the third sex

I had an old friend in town who likes ladyboys but who doesn’t really know Patpong, so I took him for a wander through. We went along Patpong 2, the narrow pedestrian way that runs alongside the main strip, and paused at Pinocchio, an agreeable little pub. The staff here are a mixture of ladyboy and GG, with only about half a dozen of each, and the place is very friendly.

Pushing open the door, I was greeted by a gorgeous ladyboy who seemed vaguely familiar. “Remember me?” she asked. When you meet and photograph as many ladyboys as I do, this is a familiar situation. You may have photographed them with their pants down and shooting a load only a few weeks previously, or maybe a couple of years previously, but there are so many they can become a blur. Besides, when I take their pix I like them to wear minimal makeup. At night, in full regalia, they are often transformed.

“I am Pocky,” she said “Rachel!” Then the penny dropped. Not only had I taken her photograph on a couple of occasions a few years back, I also had even closer knowledge of her.

As a 16-year-old boy, Pocky had worked as a waiter at a restaurant near where I live. He was making pocket-money after school. Clearly gay and naturally effeminate, he always looked uneasy and self-conscious. Not a happy looking young man, I thought to myself. But at this time, of course, the only thing I had to do with him was to order my dinner.

Over the next couple of years I watched as Pocky morphed into a ladyboy. Not a particularly feminine one at first, but gradually the “he” disappeared and I began to think of Pocky as a “she”. When she turned 18, I invited her back to my place. She was painfully, embarrassingly shy. For a few months, she became a regular visitor, creeping in and snuggling up under the bedclothes. I took a couple of photosets, and thought she looked good. She liked the name Rachel, so that’s how she appears on the site. Then she went to college, and moved away. We lost touch until I entered Pinocchio.

“I not shy now!” she said, as we sat down, and she proceeded right there in the bar to pull her cock out of her panties and massage it up to full strength. It was a lot more impressive than it had been. “I not take hormones now,” she explained. Then, for good measure, she turned round on the bench seat and hoisted up her skirt and pulled down her pants, showing me (and the rest of the pub) her cute little bottom.

Apart from this boldness, the most remarkable thing was Rachel’s beauty. She had blossomed into a beautiful girl. Great makeup, lustrous hair, a slender figure, cute boobs, and a natural dimple in her left cheek that she must always have had, but I had not noticed. Above all, she looked happy. A bouncy, sparkly personality, and a confidence that I don’t think she would have had if she had remained male.

I turned round to see my friend sitting on the bench seat next to me, and his eyes were popping out like gobstoppers. Even the GGs in the pub were looking on bemused. I thought back to the time when little Pocky would lay on her back in my bed, her stiff little cock in the air, her eyes shut with the sheer embarrassment of it all. My, how you’ve changed.