18 February 2011

Fair's Fair - Monologue

By: Bea

Yes Evelyn I can see that you're surprised! Changed days, huh? I just figured
I'd use Joe to serve us all today – sort of surprise you girls – you know?

Not quite Mr. Macho man in that pretty apron is he?

Yes. I know EXACTLY when and why it started. He'd been acting like the Lord of
the Manor, telling me to do this – do that – just like he'd been doing since we
got married – and me falling for it. Getting all worked up when he'd be out with
the boys and come home drunk – and I THINK he was even running around on me . .
Typical macho husband!

Oh positively Shannon! He may look like a little pansy at the moment – but he
definitely is heterosexual. No question about that. None at all . .. Not what
you would call 'great' in bed – but helped to pass the time now and then.
(Giggle)

Like I said? He was running around with the boys, up to all sorts of nonsense –
even made me cry when I'd cook a nice dinner for him – and he wouldn't even
call. Come in all drunk and ignore ALL that I had done for him! Mean with
money too! Controlled all of the money too! Had all that money his parents
left him – had that silly little job where his secretary did all of his work!
Lazy? Not the word for it! Spoiled rotten! Always moaning about me doing some
nice shopping and my spending – can you IMAGINE? I'd buy something nice and
sexy – to please HIM – and he'd just bitch, bitch, bitch!

Okay! Evelyn! I can stay on the subject. It was Dolores here – yes you Dolores
with your sexy Latin husband that got me started. Yes! Remember that time I was
admiring that gorgeous diamond ring you'd just got – and you told me your
secret? How to manipulate a husband in one easy lesson? Just pretend to demean
your man's masculinity – get him to be mean to you? Then cry and sniffle a lot
about how MEAN he is to you? Maybe hold back your affection – or be cold?
Then (giggle) he'd buy you something nice to apologize?

Well, I wanted this Ruby pendant – but knew that mean old Joe here would never
go along with it – maybe it WAS a little pricey – but I figured that it might be
well worth time spent if I could get him to buying me that pendant for being
mean to me. (Yes Joe! Our drinks need freshening! Get to it!)

As I was saying? He'd come in one night. Not as late, nor as drunk as usual –
but I'd made up my mind to try – so I started nagging at him right away. Called
him all sorts of names. Have to admit that I was surprised. It was the first
time I'd ever raised my voice to him, other than complain. But he just got this
sulky look on his face – and STOOD there! Then I started calling him a pansy
and a faggot! Told him how he wasn't a REAL man in bed!

Yes Dolores – that's what I said – and he just sort of cringed. Didn't raise a
hand – not even his voice! I couldn't believe it! He started to walk away from
me – like a coward! So (she shrugs) I followed him from the hall into the
kitchen! I saw some dirty dishes sitting there that I hadn't washed yet. Told
him that if he wanted his dinner he'd better EARN it – to go and wash those
dirty dishes!

Yeah Shannon. Every word is true! I can't believe my eyes! He goes and starts
DOING the dishes immediately!

Yes Dolores! A man – MY husband – doing dishes – like a woman! No, I can't
even think of what your husband would do – but I ain't finished yet! I see this
little frilly apron there that I keep for show when we have visitors. So I pick
it up – and throw that at him. Tell him if he's a woman in bed – he may as well
look like one in the kitchen! And his eyes get this big round way and he tells
me he can't wear an apron.

What did I do Evelyn? I got to be honest. I was so confused? Almost listened to
him! But I could see that my little plan wasn't going to work and must admit
that I got a little mad! I just slapped him! Told him to stop behaving like a
nattering woman and put his apron on! I’ll swear that a few tears came into his
eyes but he put that apron on! Got all apologetic on me when I sneered at him
for not being able to tie a pretty bow at the back – ended up standing there all
shy and demure while I tied him into it!

No, I'm not kidding! I ended up making him do the dishes? THEN I made him serve
up the dinner! Even teased him by calling him 'girly' a few times. But I was
really too confused to do anything much more. Started thinking that he was
probably a lot drunker than he looked.

But the next day? He didn't say a word – just looked all shy. Yes Dolores –
he could hardly look me in the eye. So know what I did? A couple of things!
Took him gently by the hand and had him admit that he's been very naughty! Yes,
can you imagine a grown man admitting THAT? Saying he should help more about
the house! Needed aprons to do it!

I've always been a sucker for those old aprons that they had back in the fifties
– you know, like Lucy used to wear? I remembered this retro store on the
Internet – and had my little sweetie stand by me at the computer. As luck would
have it there were three aprons there. That's one of them he's wearing now!
Isn't it lovely on him?

Then? The most IMPORTANT thing! I went out and bought that Ruby pendant! When
I brought it back I could tell that he wanted to say something – but he didn't –
so I had him put it on for me! Around my neck! The little dear finally choked
when I had him say how nice I looked! But he said it – and got all red when I
kissed him and said how generous he was!

To tell the truth? I thought I'd get the little pansy to argue with me when I
made him get the place ready for you girls – but here he is now – in one of his
pretty aprons, and at our` beck and call.

What am I gonna do with him Evelyn? Haven't really figured it out. Can't see
that there IS much.

* * *
Well girls? It's been a week since you were here. See any difference in Mia?

Oh – I forgot. That's what I call my little Joe now. Joe was FAR too masculine
a name for a little sissy – don't you think? I feel that Mia is far more
suitable. More feminine – like he's getting all the time.

Oh Shannon? That all you see – that he has another nice apron on? Didn't you
see his nice makeup when he answered the door and took your coats?

Oh. Yes. I guess it was dark in the hallway. Never thought of that. But now
that he's out here in the light, you going to tell me you don't see a
difference? I know that his hair isn't that long yet – but don't you see the
difference in styling? Don't you think that a little lipstick looks good on
him?

Me? I don't remember what brought it on. Remember last time we spoke I
couldn't think what to do with him? I got to thinking about something he said a
whole bunch of times. Used to sneer at how us women made ourselves nice for our
men. Went to all that trouble to make ourselves attractive! Started to laugh
as I thought how great it would be if he started to make himself look nice for
ME! Got a little taste of what we women go through!

Don't you dare laugh Evelyn! I know that you’re a lesbian and all that stuff –
so you don't have to go through all that crap that us NORMAL women go through
for our men. We just tolerate you because we all liked you BEFORE you came out
of the closet. (Laughs). I'm talking for myself, Shannon, and Dolores – NORMAL
women who worry about our looks! Not you! Masculine thing that you are! Even
though I have to admit how attractive you are!

But Dolores? With you being an ex-beauty salon operator? Would you look at his
eyebrows? To my mind, they're all wrong. I was going to pluck them myself – but
seeing you were coming, I thought I'd get your opinion.

Oh! I can see what you're getting at! I would have done them all wrong! Would
you like to pluck them for me? Don't be silly – he won't mind, will you Mia? Oh
stop that whimpering! It won't hurt as much as that wax job you had the other
day! Don't you want to be pretty for me? (giggle)

Goodness gracious! Will you listen to those little squeals he's making! Sounds
like the noises he made when I laced him into his corset this morning!
Pretending as if he couldn't breathe! Honestly! He's such a baby! If he
doesn't behave himself? I might give him a pacifier and diapers – then put him
over my knees and give him something to really cry about! (Shakes her head)
Sometimes I feel like giving him SUCH a spanking!

(Giggles) Stop laughing you two! Ah well, I can't lie too much. It's such FUN
embarrassing the pantywaist that he is! Did I tell you that I have him in
panties and bra now? Seemed to go with his corset much better! (Giggles again)
You should see him prancing around before he puts his nightgown on at night!
But let's get the cards out and do some playing. He'll start getting a big head
if I talk about him too much!

* * *

Well? Here we are again. Didn't you girls wonder why Mia wasn't taking your
coats and handbags at the door? Well I wanted to give you all a surprise at the
same time. Mia darling? You can come OUT now!

Yes! Isn't she just the prettiest thing in her black satin maid uniform and
white apron? Pirouette for the ladies Mia! Notice the white ruffled slip – oh –
and that flounced cap! Isn't she just darling? Oh yes, I call her a 'she' now,
though I get mixed up now and then. It's SO hard to think that she was ever a
man for goodness sake! Just a few weeks – and look what has happened!

I hope that you noticed the red of her lips and how dark and sultry they are?
She cried a little bit when I had a lady come and tattoo them in permanently but
I think she she's now maybe happier that she's not wasting a lot if time in
making herself pretty with makeup – the sweet dear has SO many things to do
around the house! And of course, her ears have been pieced – but she's getting
braver by the day – just whimpered a little bit! For some reason, she started
to cry when I had her go into her office – okay, okay – she DID have her makeup
on at the time – but I let her pick fairly masculine clothes at the time. For
some reason now, her ex secretary does all the work. Reports to ME now. She
seems to find all sorts of excuses to come over here. Makes SUCH a fuss over
Mia, doesn't she dear?

But you know? I think I'm going off in a different direction now – it may even
have been a point that one of you girls brought up. Until now? I've been
introducing Mia to things that are pleasurable! I mean the satin and lace
undies – the sweet perfumes- the cosmetics and the feel of nice fabric against
an ever-so-smooth skin. Things that can make a girl feel beautiful!

But that doesn't seem fair to my darling Mia! It was okay to put her in tight
corsets for you ladies coming – but some of us girls need control like that all
the time! Now he has that pleasure! Then, I got to thinking – I put his hair
up in a few rollers at night. Now a FULL head of tight plastic rollers to help
him sleep! And (she pretends to blush) what girl is complete without her time
of month – huh? So I've introduced my sweet little maid to the joys of Tampax.
I don't think he finds that too comfortable – but that is what I'm trying to
prove, huh?

Oh – I nearly forgot! I'm human you know and DO listen to her complaints. I
could see her pluck up her courage one time. Told me how she was working seven
days a week now and never had any time off to relax! I know that I can be a
mite demanding – he – sorry she – is learning to be SO good with hair. I don't
think that he enjoys helping me get dressed for dates now – but I enjoy my sex
and – excuse me Evelyn - I'm not into the lesbian scene and he's more like a
woman than anything else now that I have him on those gels and testosterone
blockers – but I was losing track. The dear was complaining about not having
any fun! So I gave him this lovely surprise one evening! Got him SO pretty in
the retro- party dress from that Internet place – all soft and fluttery. THEN
didn't tell him that I'd invited some of his best pals and their girl friends
over for a game of cards!

He was SO embarrassed! For some reason didn't want to play with his friends –
even seemed a little put out when I played cards with them in his stead – and
sent him to join in with the girls who didn't want to play! Though I'll admit
that even there he looked strange – them being in casual clothes and him in his
formal party dress. But once I got him serving drinks and munchies he seemed to
settle back into his true self. Got SO red and blushed so prettily when his old
friends – boys and girls – teased him a little. The hysterical thing? It was
the GIRLS that patted him on the ass! He was sure they were teasing him – but
that was nonsense, they were just having a little fun!

But right now I think I've been having another idea. Don't have all the details
yet, but I think we'd better get the cards out. Your deal I think Shannon – but
now that I think of it before we start playing? If any of you girls have a
function – want a maid for the day or night? Mia would be available. Let her
out of the house for a nice change?

Shannon? Those cards are AWFUL! Call yourself a dealer?

* * *

Well – I must say that something's going on with my dear Mia, but I want to keep
it a secret for a little while. But something I've found to be a real hoot? I
always figured out that men were naturally stronger than us women – not YOU
Evelyn! But mostly. Well, I never figured Joe – Mia – to be terribly strong
with him being so slim and scrawny – but remember I told you last time that I
had him on gel and testosterone blocker? Well, it’s a real giggle – he's got
tiny little breasts now – but the real point? Mia? Show those ladies your
lovely soft white arms! Come ON now! Make them all jealous!

Yes – aren't they lovely? But I found this out by accident. Shannon? You're
the smallest, weakest, of all us girls. I'd like you to compete with Mia in
Indian Wrestling!
No Shannon – you don't have to – but know that scarf of mine you like? It'll
be yours if you win. I know that you've never beat anyone before at that – and
no, I'm NOT ordering Mia to lose. Matter of fact – if SHE wins? She can have
the full day off tomorrow! Promise!

There Shannon! Doesn't that make you feel strong? Don't forget to have me give
you that scarf before you leave. Mia? You don't need to cry! How do you think
that makes ME feel? My husband in a satin dress, crying like a girl! Honestly!
(giggle) letting a little thing like Shannon beat you so easily in a strength
contest? Ought to be ashamed of yourself!

Evelyn! Stop it! Mia doesn't need protecting! She isn't one of your girls you
know! Well, I can see that you're just putting an arm around her – but I wasn't
THAT cruel! Get the cards out. Your deal I think!

* * *
Yes. Been a while since we last met here. Isn't Mia pale? Probably the pills
she's taking in the morning – can't explain it (giggle) but she gets sick every
day now. I can't see why she keeps on complaining about taking those pills! A
little morning sickness never hurt anyone and – she absolutely HATED that Tampax
and now she doesn't have to use it any more. You would think she'd be more
grateful!

I'll admit to having a problem with her complexion. Didn't know whether to have
her glow – all radiant and lovely – or pale and wan. But it dawned on me that it
was the misery of womanhood that I was trying to get across, so the paleness won
out. I'll be nice to her later – make her positively GLOW with promise! Make it
a point to make her lovely – that's only fair after all.

I think that plumpness is SO natural. Naturally, I didn't want to put her
through nine months of pregnancy – NINE months! I was tempted, but figured that
I'd get bored so I've cut it back a lot. Right now, she's just starting to show
the baby padding I have her wear. Dresses getting too tight – that sort of
thing. But if she's nice I won't let her go through too much of that thing –
get her into nice, comfortable, maternity smocks. Maybe even cut back in her
work? But I don't know – she's becoming SO valuable around the house – a
regular treasure!

And Dolores? You had Mia as your maid for that night a few weeks ago? I meant to
ask if that husband of yours knew that one of his pretty maids used to be a guy?
Oh – I sorta wished you had told him! Just think of all the fun you could have
had? You mean that he didn't TELL you that he was patting Mia's ass? Telling
her how pretty she was? Just think of the LOOK on his face if you'd told him
he'd been trying to make out with a man? Priceless!

But cards anyone?

* * *

Hello girls! I see that Mia answered the door and let you in. As you can
probably guess, she's got too heavy to do much work – so plump and feminine - I
thought I'd give her a seat and sit in with the rest of us girls – watch us
playing cards – that sort of thing.

No. She doesn't cry much anymore. I do hear her cry at night if she has to go
onto another bedroom while I entertain a male guest – but I think she's starting
to see my dilemma – I'm just not INTO girls! She's now in the last few weeks of
pregnancy and I told her that if she behaved nicely, I'd get her back to being a
normal sized girl again. She thinks that's lovely. Don't you Mia?

Isn't that the shyest, loveliest, smile you've ever seen? You know, I know, SHE
knows she isn't really going to have a baby – but try and tell HER that! Poor
little dear! I'll just bet that she never miscalls a woman again. Isn't THAT
right Mia dear? Of COURSE you won't!

The poor dear! I used this false baby padding that fits at her front and rear.
It's a kind of plastic I think but I developed a way to add some weight? Didn't
want my darling getting TOO comfortable. Now? It won't be long – will it Mia?
I just LOVE the way she waddles around! So cute!

What am I going to do with her once she's back to being a proper girl again? I
don't really know, Shannon – to tell you the truth! But until I have time to
think? Your turn to deal Dolores!"

* * *
Well hello Mia! How lovely you look! Feeling better now that you have got rid
of your pregnancy outfit? I just BET that you do?

Now don't be bashful! Your wife felt that it wasn't fair for her to be around
you all of the time. Felt that you needed someone different! Thought that I
might be able to comfort you.

Yes. I know that the other girls call me Evelyn the lesbian! Well? Maybe that's
true! But does that mean that I can’t make you feel nice? Give you a nice warm
cuddle now and then?

I should think NOT! I've always had a soft spot for you – and I don't care who
knows it! Since you've got rid of that false pregnancy padding? I think that
your figure is lovely! Not only that? Would you mind if I gave you a kiss?

Of course there's something sexual in it! Expect me to tell a lie? I've
wondered and wondered about you for a LONG time now. Bet if you want, you can
give me a kiss that I'll never forget! Oh, you pout so prettily! Look so
sultry and sexy!

Mmmm! Wasn't wrong – was I? Now it was purely accidental of course – but I
happened to feel that you really don't have an awful lot downstairs at the
front? (Laughs gently) Absolutely gorgeous at the back! These drugs! Almost
like a woman under your skirts? Think it was the drugs – or the gel? But you
feel so lovely and smooth. May I have another kiss?

Oh? Why I am here instead of your wife? She does apologize – but has a date
that will keep her out very late tonight. Knew that I was lonely – yes – I
recently lost a girl friend – and she also felt guilty about leaving you by
yourself. Felt that we might be able to comfort each other? Asked me to come
over and see if you liked me?

Oh you do? I'm so flattered!

No! You silly little thing! Come to Evelyn!

Yes. Yes. Yes. Of course it feels all strange to you – but just turn your
sweet backside to me a little more? Just think! It may feel a little liquid and
squishy to you just now, but it feels so nice and natural to ME. In a little
while? I hope to be introducing you to more of the joys of being a girl.

Right now? Doggy style? I don't know what you mean! Oh – that?

Say 'woof' for me darling – would you? Nice and soft?

17 February 2011

Hers At Last

By: David

Note: Kinda different story including castration theme.

Jullie stood over me in the shower as I sat on the floor in a daze.
She leaned down & pressed her knees into my body. She took my hair
in her left hand and my balls in her right. She began to squeeze.

My breathing came rough & hard as I struggled to move. My fiance
had me pinned, and my cock was hard. "Are you ready, Boy?"

"Yes, Ma'am".

"You know what this means don't you? This means you'll belong to me
now, forever and ever. It also means you'll never fuck me again.
You realize that don't you?"

"Yes Ma'am"

"And you still want it? You want to marry me? And be mine? Be my
slave, forever and always be at my side when I'm having sex, but
never have sex with me?"

"Yes, Ma'am"

"It really is for the best, isn't it, David"

"Yes, Ma'am".

"I want you to ask me, David. I need you to ask me for it"

"Yes, Ma'am. I need it Ma'am. Please cut me, Mistress. Please take
them from me. Please cut off my balls. Please neuter me and make me
your slave. Your slut. Please hurt me."

"And you know what your job's going to be, too, don't you, David.
We've talked about this before..."

"Yes, Ma'am"

"Your job will be to kneel beside the bed and wait while my lovers
FUCK me, David. You're going to get me wet before he fucks me, and
you're going to clean me, David. You're going to eat *all* of his
come out of me when he's done." "And do you know what happens when
I'm too tired for sex, David? You're going to be his bitch. You, on
the floor, on your knees, with No Balls, licking the big balls of
my lover who gets to fuck me while you kneel beside the bed and
watch and wait to eat his come."

"Yes, Ma'am. Ma'am?"

"Yes, David"

"I love you, Ma'am..."

"I know, David"

I knelt at her feet in the shower, the hot spray covering us both.
She turned the nozzle to 'mist' & reached outside for something.

she nudged my legs apart, and said "This is for your own good,
David. I'm doing this because I love you. I'm doing this because I
treasure your gift to me."

She reached between my legs and pulled my balls down. My penis was
hard and thin strands of pre-cum reached down. She gently encircled
my scrotum with the thin metal band. The touch of it was cold, yet
reassuring somehow.

My time had come.

She tightened the screws on the clamp. Soon I felt the slight
discomfort, along with the feeling of safety and security that ball
bondage always brings me.

I felt a tiny jab as the anesthetic spread into my legs, numbing me
slightly as the needle quickly withdrew.

She rubbed my penis gently, and looked into my eyes with love. I
couldn't feel anything between my legs now. My balls were purple-
black, and they were dying.

"Its too late to turn back now, David. Are you happy? We're almost
done" She said, beaming.

"Do you know what the best thing is for me, David?" "You're NEVER
going to fuck me. You'll be married to me, and you'll never have
your penis inside me. Do you know how exciting that is for me?"

"Yes, it really is the best thing, Ma'am"

"Ok, David. Look into my eyes. I'm going to release your last
ejaculate, David. Its going to be very painful, but we have to do
it. And then your testicles will be clipped and you'll be mine"

She poured lube over my cock and stroked it. The member buldged
obscenely, clamped in the shiny metal device, the blades held open
by the lever that waited for Ma'am's hand.

She tortured his dick with her fingernails as he shot stream after
stream of hot come onto her legs.

"Now, David" she said, as she cranked the lever sharply to the
right, snipping his nuts cleanly.

She held him in her arms while he cried at the beautiful loss of
his manhood. The shower washed everything away. When he looked
between his legs there was a polished metal band under his cock,
where his balls used to be.

***

Two months later

A tall black man sat in a restaurant booth with David. Between them
sat Julia, admiring the diamond wedding ring on her left hand.
David's ring was elsewhere, on his cock, specifically, which had
shrunk to the size of a large man's pinky when flaccid.

"Get under the table, David, get me ready"

"Here, Ma'am?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes, David, and be quick about it." she said, patting him gently.

David slid down the booth and onto the floor. He could see his wife
holding hands with her lover as she lifted her skirt.

David nestled between her legs as she spread them slightly. He
lapped at her cunt and made her especially wet.

When she tugged his hair, he came back up to sit beside her.

"We'll be back. Wait here" she said.

After 10 minutes they returned and sat with David between them.
James reached over and put his hand between Julia's legs. Then he
put his fingers up to David's mouth.

"Eat, boy" said Julia.

And David, Julia's treasure, then man with no nuts of his own, ate
the seed of the man who was now her lover.

Ducklings

By: Rosie

I must admit, it took a lot of adapting from my side, but in the end, it was all
worth it. I mean, what goes on in the privacy of the bedroom should remain
between husband and wife. The intimate lingerie worn to the bedroom should also
not be seen outside the bedroom. Granted, it can’t be completely hidden from the
world – someone has to make it, after all, and then there’s the salespeople that
handle it. But that should be it, right? No one else should know, especially no
one this close to you? So naturally, it was very difficult for me to accept the
fact that my own mother knew what was worn in our bedroom. To make matters
worse, not the morning after, but beforehand, before I even laid my eyes on the
lustrous lingerie and the silky night gowns and baby dolls, she knew all about
them. After all, she was the one who provided them.

But then again, if there’s an expert on such things, it’s my mother. She knows
about clothes, especially sexy clothes, she knows hair, she knows makeup and all
other beauty tricks. Though when I let her take care of our wedding wardrobes,
all my reservations were swept away by the gorgeous gown she had made, and the
trousseau…

I was returning from a week long business trip. My mother in law picked me up at
the airport.
“Hello, Marcia,” I said, kissed her on the cheek.
We got into her car. She was wearing a very elegant green silk wrap around
dress.
“Nice dress,” I said, “My mother’s, I presume?”
“Oh, you know Beatrice,” she chuckled, “Every since your wedding she won’t let
us wear anything but her designs.”
“Yeah, she does tend to get overbearing,” I said, “Though it’s worth it, isn’t
it?”
Marcia sighed.
“Look, I don’t mean any disrespect to you mother, she has been very kind to me,
taking me in when I wanted to live close to you two, but I think moving in with
her was a mistake.”
“Come on, Marcia, it can’t be that bad?” I said, though suspecting it just as
well could.
“Well,” she sighed, “On one hand my wardrobe has doubled since I got there, I
can’t complain about that, can I? On the other, she just won’t leave me be until
I’m dressed like she has envisioned. I mean, I know she means well, but I’m a
grown woman, for Chrissakes, I can dress myself.”
“Yep, that’s my mom,” I commented.
“You know I don’t even dare to wear my own clothes anymore. She even started
altering them. My blue polka dot dress?”
“What about it?” I asked.
“She’s shortened the skirt to a mini!” Marcia replied, “My yellow floral
sundress? Now it’s a jumpsuit.”
“Oh dear,” I said.
“Yes. So now I either wear the clothes she’s made for me or she lends me her
own. God, I don’t remember when it was the last time I wore a pair of jeans. Not
after I moved in with your mother, that’s for sure.”

I kept silent for a while, not knowing what to say. My mother was like that, no
one could do anything about it.
“Well, the past week’s been easier on me,” she said, “She had Ashley to fuss
over.”
Ashley, my husband had been staying with both mothers while I was away. He
wasn’t too thrilled about the idea, but I felt it was better than him being all
alone in our house.

Ever since my mother learned he was the boy I wanted to marry, she had worked on
him, so to speak, until his image was to my liking. Truthfully, she made him
look primarily to her tastes but as much as I had to object on grounds of
privacy and her interference in our lives, I had to admit I rather enjoyed the
results. Marcia on the other hand wasn’t too thrilled about the changes – he was
her son, after all – but as she had lived quite a distance away at that time,
the first time she had seen him in a long while was just before our wedding.

By that time mother had already made all preparations for the wedding and
despite Marcia’s fierce protests, it was too late to change anything. In time –
and probably under my mom’s influence once she had moved in with her – she
learned to accept her son’s new look, though. Lately, even she had started
participating in my mom’s attentions to Ashley. She had to admit, as much as she
found my mother to enforce her views, that she made anyone she worked on look
much better than before. That, and she was glad to get my mom off her own back,
I suppose, even if it meant getting her on her son’s back.

My mother was in her living room when we came in.
“Dolores, honey,” she called out and got off the sofa. As she rushed towards me,
he the silk of her full skirted black dress fluttered about her thighs. I swear,
I had never seen her dressed in anything else than what she considered ladylike
clothing, and always immaculately made up. As long as I lived under her roof,
that was my dress code as well.

She wasn’t too conservative, she did allow me to wear short skirts and low cut
tops (she did wear them herself), though certain basic rules always applied.
Such as “A lady never shows bare legs,” which meant that no matter how hot it
was, I always had to wear at least the thinnest of nylons. Preferably not flesh
toned, at least not the thinnest ones. This rule wasn’t too popular with me,
though it did earn me many admiring looks in the summer. Also, socks and knee
highs were only allowed with pants. Even with floor length skirts I had to wear
full length stockings or pantyhose – God forbid my skirts should rise and the
tops of my socks come in view.

“I’m my own first and last product,” she used to say, meaning she was a walking
commercial for her services. She used to treat me the same way until I had moved
away, though I never fully got out of her grasp. Lately, I suspected she started
to view Marcia in that way.
“How’ve you been?” she asked, “Everything worked out okay?”
“Even better than I expected,” I replied. I decided beforehand I wouldn’t boast
about my business success, though I was starting to find the urge almost
unbearable. My mother stopped me, in her own way.
“I’ve made a new dress,” she said, “Maybe you’d like to try it on?”
“I think what Dolores wants the most right now is to see her hubby,” Marcia
said, “Isn’t that right?”
“Yeah,” I chuckled, amused by Marcia’s choice of words, “Where is my ‘hubby’
anyway?”
“Oh, I assembled a very special welcoming outfit for Ashley,” mom said, “To
welcome you back home, you know? But first, Marcia? Would you make us some tea?”
“Sure,” Marcia said and went to the kitchen.

My mother turned again to me. “Now, where were we? Oh yes!” she said and knocked
on the door that led to her office.
“Ashley, dear? You can come out now,” she said.
This was one of her favorite tricks, having her models enter the room at her
cue. That’s how she had him reunite with his mother. At that time I thought it
demeaning, though in retrospect I guess it made sense. Marcia probably wouldn’t
have recognized him otherwise, without introduction I mean.

And now I was waiting for him to come out, pleasantly nervous with anticipation
of his new outfit. Not for the first time in my life, and I suspected not for
the last time either.
He stepped out the door, shyly, demurely. I gasped in surprise when I saw him.
Not that I hadn’t seen him dressed like that before – I had, though in different
surroundings, and certainly not with his mother nearby.

At first it appeared as if he was naked from his waist down. He was wearing a
grey satin corset top with a black embroidered floral pattern. The corset
cinched his already slim waist and made his breasts almost spill over the top.
His hair was now dyed a champagne blonde, and fell in gentle waves down his
shoulders, barely touching his breast. His lips were painted crimson red, his
eyes sultry darkened. He wore silver pumps that had a four inch heel and matched
his top. However, between the top and the shoes, all he was wearing was shiny
translucent pantyhose. Only at the second look I saw that he was wearing black
lacy panties over the pantyhose, supposedly functioning as an outer garment, not
lingerie.

I could not contain myself. I ran over to him – as fast as my tight skirt
allowed – held him by the waist and kissed him, trusting my tongue into his
mouth as deep as I could. The heels of my shoes were lower than his though I
still had some height advantage over him and we assumed our usual embracing
stance – me bending downward slightly, he snaking his arms around my neck,
tilting his head backward in full acceptance of my advances. Eventually we broke
our embrace, but not before I thoroughly inspected his back with my hands,
spending the biggest portion of time on his barely clad backside.
“Oh, honey, I missed you so much,” I cooed in his ear.
“I missed you too,” he said.
“How’s mummy been treating you?” I asked, my hands still on his shoulder.
“Well, I think your actions speak louder than words,” my mom said, “We’ve had a
marvelous time, haven’t we?”
“Yes, mummy,” he said.
Even though he had started calling my mother ‘mummy’ even before our wedding, it
never failed to amuse me. Marcia didn’t think it so funny when she learned about
that but my mother made it up to her by making Ashley call her ‘mummy’ as well,
as opposed to ‘mom’. In case of doubt, Marcia became ‘mummy dearest’ while my
mom was just plain ‘mummy’.
“And you, Dolores? I take it you like what you see?” she asked me.
“You bet, mummy,” I said, “Though didn’t I see you wear that top at Shauna’s
birthday party two years ago?”
“That’s right,” she said, “Not just the top, though.”
“I figured as much,” I replied, then turned to Ashley.
“How about that?” I said, pulling him in to another embrace, “My husband wearing
my mother’s hand-me-downs?”
“Oh, like it’s the first time he’s wearing something of mine,” mom sighed.
“I know. I’m just teasing,” I said.
Mummy dearest returned to the living room. She nearly dropped her tray when she
saw her son’s new getup.
“Jesus, Beatrice,” she said, “Isn’t this a little too forward?”

It was an awkward situation to both her and him, though despite her
embarrassment, she couldn’t keep her eyes of his curvaceous body.
“These are just panties he’s wearing over the hose, right?” she said, snapping
the elastic at the leg of his panties.
“Come on, Beatrice. Don't you think you should have allowed him some more
modesty?” she protested, though the pride of her son’s good looks was decisively
present in her voice.

Under our amused glances, she took a good look at her son again.
“Well, at least he has the legs to carry that outfit,” she said, sitting down
beside my mother.
To my bewilderment and amusement, and to Ashley’s discomfort, my mother put a
possessive arm around Marcia.
I tried to engage in a conversation, though I was too distracted. Fortunately,
Marcia spoke up first.
“I’m sorry, but I just don’t feel comfortable with my son practically undressed
among us,” she said, “No disrespect, but it’s not even dark yet.”
“It will be when our lovebirds get to their home,” my mom said.
“Come on, Beatrice, you can’t possibly mean he’s supposed to go out like that,”
she said.
“Of course not,” my mom replied, “I have a nice light coat for him.”
“The one you showed me?”
“The same,” mom said.
“But that thing will hardly cover his backside,” Marcia protested again, “Can’t
you give him something that will attract less attention?”
“Marcia, we’ve talked about this…” mom said with a threatening tone.
I raised an eyebrow, bemused by the developments.
”Oh please, be reasonable,” Marcia said, though sounding almost as if she was
begging my mother, “Let him at least wear one of my old dresses, the ones you
don’t let me wear anymore.”

Mom looked at Marcia for a minute, then relented.
“Oh, alright,” she said, though not sounding very pleased, “Ashley? Go see if
your mother has any suitable skirts.”
“Yes mummy,” he said and got off the couch.
I lustily watched his shapely behind as he made his way up the stairs.
“I’ll have you over my knees for this, Marcia,” my mom said to my mother in law.
“I know, Beatrice, I’m sorry,” she sheepishly replied.
“Not as sorry as you will be,” mom dryly retorted.

Ashley reappeared soon enough, with a short but very full black skirt that came
down to his mid thighs. Somehow, I couldn’t imagine that ever belonging to his
mother.
“Not bad,” my mom said, “Mind you, I don’t approve when people interfere with my
work, but I have to compliment you on your choice, Ashley. Looks like something
did brush off to you.”
“Thank you,” he said, then dropped a small but perfect curtsey.
I got up, walked up to him, put my hand on his thigh then possessively ran it up
under his skirt, until I was groping his buttocks again.
“Well, I guess we’ll be going,” I said, “Thanks again, mum.”

Later that night, perhaps not fully sated but our energies surely spent, we were
lying in bed in each other’s arms.
“You didn’t tell me, really,” I said to my husband, caressing his tummy through
the chiffon of his baby dolls, “How was your stay at my mother’s? You all got
along?”
“Well, my mom’s still can’t get over how your mom…” he began.
“Who?” I stopped him.
“Sorry. Mummy dearest still finds mummy too enforcing in regards to wardrobe,”
he said, with a softer voice even, “Though other than that, we got along fine.
Mummy dearest even began helping mummy with the dressmaking.”
“How many times did you have to get over her knees?” I asked.
“Just once,” he said, “I forgot she had a customer coming and I wasn’t wearing
the dress she made in time.”
“She used you for a model?” I asked.
“Mummy dearest too,” he said.
I paused for a while.
“You think I’m in trouble for not trying on that dress?” I asked, “You think
she’ll spank me tomorrow?”
He shrugged.

The next day we showed up at her door again. We were both wearing mummy’s old
clothes that she had given us. I was wearing a cream and coffee polka dot silk
dress, mini skirted but long sleeved. Ashley was wearing a pink short sleeved
blouse and a dark blue A-line skirt that reached to just above his shoulder.

“My my! Look at you two,” mummy said as she ushered us in, “I almost hate
sending you off to change.”

Though she did. Each of us was sent to our own private room to change.
Not wanting to anger my mother any further, I quickly divested of my clothes and
started to put on the lingerie laid on the bed. Pink satin, lavishly lined with
lace – panties, bra, and a merry widow corset. Also I put on pink-hued
stockings. Then the dress. It was also pink, made of taffeta, with a square
neckline and full, puffy short sleeves. The knee length skirt was very full and
retained the same pleated look even after I put on a very full petticoat
underneath it. Embarrassed by this humiliating garment, I made my way
downstairs.

Ashley and Marcia were already in the living room – and they were both wearing
dresses identical to mine.
Shamefaced, I came up to them, hugged them.
“You look kinda cute, you two,” I said.
“So do you,” Marcia said, sounding equally embarrassed.
“I’m glad you like your new look,” I heard mummy say as she entered the room.
It was as if we all stiffened with fright, then we quickly turned to face my
mother. She was dressed in a black pantsuit with a dark red silk blouse.
“Come to me, girls,” she said, spreading her arms.

Accompanied by loud rustling of our dresses, we all snuggled up to her embrace.
She kissed us each on the forehead, then planted a full kiss on Marcia’s lips.
“Well, my little princesses, why don’t we go out for a while?” she said, “Let’s
go for lunch, then maybe a walk in the park?”
All of us knowing it wasn’t really a question, we cued behind and left the room.
As we passed a mirror, I stole a glance. The picture was perfect – three pink
ducklings led by a serene, powerful black duck. I turned around and kissed my
husband, then minced to my mummy’s car.

16 February 2011

The Race

By: Bea

It's not MY fault. I wanted to marry Cynthia. Said so MANY times. She finally
gave in and we got married. I try not to complain too much, but nether she,
Amanda, Betty, Caroline – nor her mother - seem to care about my concerns. Just
look at me and shrug their shoulders as if I should have been more careful. But
how was I supposed to know, huh? I thought everything was supposed to be agreed
before the ceremony. Okay, some words were missing or not said. But what are
we – a bunch of lawyers?

You be the judge.

I fell madly in love with Cynthia the moment I saw her. As usual, I met her
originally with her three companions who rarely, if ever, left her side. All
three were beautiful : Amanda, the cool ice type blonde. Betty the warm and
seductive red head. Caroline, the warm brunette. None of them seemed to like me
very much. To be honest? 'Like' is wrong to describe their feelings for me – an
amused contempt was closer to the truth. But I put up with them because it was
the only way I could stay close to her.

Cynthia is the epitome of female beauty. Ash blonde and tiny. I've been
accused of favoring her because she was small and – should I admit this? –
dainty, like myself. There maybe is something in this, but her three girl
friends idolized her as well – and they were bigger than her. As a matter of
fact, I don't suppose they were large by any manner of means but in their heels
they seemed to tower over both of us – something I should have been used to as
commonplace up until then – but never really accepted.

Almost immediately, I made my desires known to Cynthia about wanting to get
married. "Dear boy," she said sweetly. "You would be a most desirable
companion, but for one thing my friends don't care for men too much. For a
second? I make no bones about it. I want a large, magnificent wedding and all
the trimmings. I even have a resplendent dress picked out already. A friend of
mine worked as a model in an exclusive bridal shop. When she saw it for sale,
she knew it was my size and got it for me. I still have it for my big day – so
at least you know that I intend to use it!" She sighed. "I'm well aware that
some people look askance on my friendship with the three girls – accuse us of
being lesbians, but they just don't know us!"

I pressed the matter and she explained further. "Dear Albert? You are cute. No
denying it – and I didn't want to admit this but my father being dead? My
dearest mother cannot afford the kind of big wedding that I want. I'm afraid
that you'll just have to wait until we win the lottery or something."
"But I could pay for a large part of a glorious wedding," I tried.

She patted my arm. "No darling Albert. I realize what a compliment you're
paying me – but what would be my sense in bankrupting you? As you know, I
delight in feminine things and would not be happy if you had no money after our
wedding. So why can't we just be friends?"

Her refusal didn't kill my ardor for a moment. I even approached her mother –
Donna – and she regarded me balefully once I'd spoken my piece. "It is nice of
you to offer to help me with a wedding – but I consider your offer as an insult.
If Cynthia didn't like you, I'd expect you to go away – and stay away –
permanently. But I suppose she has a mind of her own so, for her sake, I'll put
up with you."
I swallowed. It was bad enough not having her friends like me – but now her
mother as well?

I felt she was unkind, but it was nothing to the jibes and remarks I'd have to
put up with from the three girls. Nothing stopped them. Not even Cynthia's
presence. They joked about my masculinity – or lack of it. Commented how I
must enjoy being a part of a coterie of girls who surrounded Cynthia. I'd get
upset, but she'd laugh and tell me not to be so hot headed. "I'm SURE that
you're a boy!" She'd say. "Just ignore them!" Then she'd smile at her friends.
"How can you be so cruel?" Of course, they'd all just laugh and one of the
three - usually Betty or Caroline would pinch me.

But Cynthia finally was determined that the girls would like me if only we were
together more. I can't say that I liked her solution – as she figured out that
if I sat with them, familiarity would lead to a friendlier relationship. The
girls didn't like this at first either. It often meant that one of them would be
singled out to sit apart, while I would take my place in the middle of the other
two.

But through time, they discovered that one of the three could get more attention
from Cynthia, while with their larger size and the usual dresses that they wore,
could simply overwhelm me and I'd discover myself almost hidden completely
between two females. To their enjoyment, they found that Cynthia thought her
idea working when either one or both would put a (pretended) affectionate arm
around my neck to further submerge me in amongst them. Naturally, I couldn’t
complain as Cynthia would have been bound to take it badly. So it became
commonplace for me to sit almost completely enveloped in the fabrics and smells
of effeminacy. Naturally quiet by nature, I felt myself increasingly a part of
the girls. Cynthia even forgot a few times and addressed us collectively as
"her girls".

But then she noticed this and apologetically brought it up in front of us all.
"I think you girls are being mean!" she said. "Albert is a young man and yet you
keep making inferences about his gender as if he's some sort of homosexual. He
is a man – and I think that you three should treat him as such!"
"I don't know what you mean?" Amanda laughed, putting an arm around my neck and
pulling me in.
"Me neither!" Caroline laughed, putting her arm around my neck and now almost
completely hiding me from view now. "He's SO sweet! I don't see how you could
think of such a thing!"

"I don't mean to be critical," Betty asked. "But Cynthia. How do YOU know he's
heterosexual? Have you ever kissed him? Felt him up? See if his penis works?"

Cynthia laughed. "That's terrible Betty. I just know he's manly! The fact that
I'm keeping myself pure for marriage and won't let him kiss or touch me?
Perfectly natural that he should obey my wishes! It's a manly thing to do!"

What she said was a sore point with me for in all the time we'd known each
other, we'd never kissed or made any other contact other than accidental. She
had explained this by saying she wanted to keep herself pure for marriage. Yes,
I was confused by some of the amorous kisses and hugs that passed between her
and the three friends – but she explained this with a light laugh. "Yes dear.
Of course it is sexual. Want me to pretend otherwise? But we're all girls, my
friends and I, that do that – so I can go to my wedding bed saying that I've
never known even a man's kiss. Pure! Do you have a problem with that?"

And now I sat there, practically a prisoner. Almost helpless in two women's
arms. "Here!" Cynthia said to Betty. "Do something for me!"

And she walked to Betty – and proceeded to give her the most salacious kiss that
I ever saw! "Now Betty?" she said when they had finished. "I just kissed you.
I want you to pass that kiss on to Albert – just the way I gave it to you.
Okay?"
"Like I'm the middle man?" Betty laughed – still panting from the effects of the
kiss.
"Exactly!" Cynthia laughed. "I'm sure you can tell me if Albert is gay!"

Goggle eyed, I watched Betty smooth out her dress and approach the three of us,
grinning so that Cynthia couldn't see her. I still couldn't move, even when
Amanda and Caroline loosened their hold, and I felt, rather than saw. Betty
straddle me on the couch. Then her lips were on me – and her tongue had
literally forced its way into my mouth. To make matters worse, her hand easily
found my groin and she massaged my erection. I was wet in seconds, pumping my
semen into my pants.

"My my!" Betty tutted. "He seemed to like me as a woman – but he came into his
pants awfully quickly . ."
"I've heard that's a sign of latent homosexuality?" Caroline asked.
"Oh Albert! How could you?" Cynthia asked sorrowfully.
"Cynthia? Now it’s you that's not being fair!" Amanda said. "I think we should
give Albert a second chance!"
"I agree! Maybe even a NUMBER of chances!" Caroline piped up. "After all –
that was just a sign of gayness. Maybe he was taken by surprise? Is that right
Albert?"
I looked up, dazed. "I think so. Honest. I'm not gay!"
"See, you other girls?" Cynthia crowed. "Though Albert? I'd suggest that you
go home and change."

I hadn't thought of Amanda's comment that I be given a second chance, but now it
seemed to be a chance for all of the girls who wanted to prove that I wasn't as
gay as they'd previously thought. It actually became quite commonplace for
Cynthia to have one of the girls in an embrace – and have another take me into
her arms for another 'trial'. The thing that nobody seemed to pay much
attention to was the fact that these women were all bigger and stronger than me.
To put it as kindly as possible, they would treat me as if it were I who was the
girl – even though Cynthia always seemed to be the strong one in her kissing
relationships. It struck me more than once that she's be kissing one of the
girls – nicely of course – while I was being kissed by another. But I guess I
couldn't complain. It just seemed that even though I was being treated like a
girl, all the girls would exclaim how "manly" I was, as they held me prisoner in
their arms, burying me in the soft fabrics of their clothes.

This went on for a while and though I felt out of sorts by how I was treated, I
seemed to be better accepted by the girls and Cynthia's mother. I couldn't
agree with what was happening, but Cynthia seemed happy enough, so that kept me
quiet.

Then Betty brought up the point one day as we sat around in Cynthia's house,
while the rain thundered down outside.
"I noticed that they're having the Bridal race in about two months Cynthia."
She laughed. "You've got the dress. Thinking of joining in?"
"No way!" Cynthia retorted sharply. "That's SO demeaning! I don't know how
girls can sink that low!"
"Bridal race?" I piped up. "What are you talking about Betty?"

"That's right. You're practically a newcomer." Amanda piped up from a magazine
she was reading. "About every two years or thereabouts, the next town has this
race between girls in their bridal gowns. The winners get this super-duper
wedding put on for them, free of charge.."
"All and I mean ALL – the trimmings!" Caroline laughed. "I saw the last winner
get married – what a fairy tale wedding that was!"

My interest had been turned on. "Couldn't you think about it Cynthia?" I asked
meekly. "If you won, we could have the fancy wedding you've always wanted – and
I'd still have my money?"
"You're being nonsensical!" she told me sharply. "No way!"
"If you really wanted to marry her THAT much?" Betty piped up. "You could
borrow her dress and compete yourself! All you'd have to do is win – and all
your troubles with Cynthia would be solved!"
"Not in MY dress, he wouldn't!" Cynthia said, half laughing at the idea.
"Anyway? He isn’t a girl – and they'd probably find out and disqualify him."

"What's all this?" Donna asked as she came in to see if anyone wanted coffee or
a soft drink. With a lot of giggling and joking, what we'd been discussing was
explained to her.
She shrugged. "What's so funny? I'd guess that Albert would fit into Cynthia's
dress just fine. And Cynthia? I'd bet that if he spoiled your dress in any
way, he'd be glad to replace it with a new one. Would be a LOT cheaper than
paying for a complete wedding. You wouldn't mind, would you Albert?"

"Well?" I tried to backtrack. "It seemed to have certain advantages but . . "
"You talking your way out of your offer?" Donna asked me indignantly. "You've
been going on and on about how you'd do anything to marry Cynthia. Now you have
the chance, all I hear is you trying to weasel out!"
"It's not that Ma'am," I said weakly. "But I'm not a girl. Don't think I could
pass and . ."
"That's the silliest thing I ever heard!" she snapped. "It's about two months
away. Your hair is nice and long and you have a dainty figure that a little
padding would help if you wore a dress. You come and stay with me for the next
two months and I'll see how serious you are about marrying my daughter. "She
leered at me. "And I guarantee that you'll make a nice looking bride. Guarantee
it!"

"Oh mummy!" Cynthia laughed. "You can't be serious! He's a boy – and my three
friends here will vouch for it! I don't think you can expect . ."
"I can expect him to stand by his word!" Donna argued. Then she turned to me.
"Do you mean what you've been saying all along – or was it just a bunch of
bullshit?"

This was from the woman who I wanted to be my mother in law. I knew that I
either had to go along with her, or lose Cynthia forever. On top of that, my
brain had already figured out a major plus. The girls and Cynthia spent a great
deal of time together – but this gave me the chance to be with her almost all of
the time when the girls were at their own homes. But I couldn't help covering
the bases. Spoke quietly. "Oh ma'am! I meant it all right. I just thought
that Cynthia didn't like the idea?" The implication was there now. I'd go
along – but only if Cynthia agreed. Frankly, I didn't think she would. But
Donna stepped in again.
"Cynthia? I don't see how this can be anything but a good thing for you. You
have tons of clothes that you bought – then didn't like. Fit him just fine!
I'll be responsible for his training. If you ever feel that he won't act or look
properly? You can call off the whole deal."

To my horror, Cynthia giggled. "Oh mom! Put him in my dresses? But he's a
boy!"
"Enough said!" Donna answered. "I won't argue with you all day." She turned
to me. "Alice? You may as well start now. Come and help me make lunch."
"Alice?" I said, horrified.
"Yes. You. Come and help me! I'll look you out some proper clothes. Going
around, dressed like a boy! Got to stop! Come along!"

I licked my lips. "But I'm not sure . ." Then I yowled as Donna simply took a
step towards me and grabbed me by the lobe of my ear. "Come along young lady!"
With that, she easily lifted me out of my chair and strated leading me out of
the room.
"Alice?" Caroline exclaimed.
"Pretty clothes?" from Amanda.
And Betty and Cynthia just giggled and laughed.

Donna kept hold of my ear but stopped and addressed everybody. "This is Alice."
She said, shaking my ear to show who she was talking about. You will address
her as such. My job is to have her behave and look like a young lady for the
next few months. If any of you argue with my decision other than Cynthia, you
will not be welcome in this house!"
"See you soon – Alice" All three girls waved me goodbye.

They sniggered when they saw me next as I delivered soft drinks and sandwiches
in to them. I wore a long full brown skirt, a white peasant blouse with a half
apron over my skirt, I wore a bra, panties, garter belt and a half slip under my
skirt and a pair of flat brown shoes. Donna had listened somewhat to my
embarrassed mewling and I just had a little lipstick, blusher and eye shadow on.
She had simply combed my hair back into a sort of pony tail and used a brown
lace scrunchie to hold it in place,
"Eyes up girl!" Donna commanded me from the rear. "That girl over there is
your new mistress. Her name is Miss Cynthia. Now go and introduce yourself to
her – just the way I told you!"

Face flaming I tried to ignore the lewd comments from the girls and walked over
to Cynthia. Tried to overlook the amusement in her eyes. Doing as I'd been
told – and shown, I curtsied in front of her. "Good afternoon Miss Cynthia. My
name is Alice and Miss Donna wants me to be your friend. Is that all right by
you?"
"You look very sweet – for a boy?" Cynthia asked. You want me to call you
Alice?"
"Only until I compete in the Bridal race Miss Cynthia."
"That's NOT what you were told to say Alice!" Donna spoke. "But it's acceptable.
Now what favor were you to ask Cynthia?"

I blushed even more. "I didn't feel that wearing your nightwear was proper Miss
Cynthia. Mistress Donna suggested that I ask you . ." I stammered to a pause
here, then managed. "To use the money in my wallet and buy me six nightgowns or
baby dolls?"
"You want ME to buy you girly nightwear Albert?"
"ALICE!" Donna reminded her.
"Sorry Alice," Cynthia said. "But you want me to be instrumental in buying you
pretty gowns and negligees to wear at night?"
"Yes ma'am" I managed.
"I must admit to being surprised at your easy acceptance," Cynthia said. "You
DO realize that your masculinity is diminishing in my eyes?"
I felt myself shrink. "Yes ma'am." Saw Dona glare at me – and curtsied to
Cynthia.

She shrugged and turned to the other three. "Looks like the rain is letting up.
Why don't we go and buy Alice some pretties, shall we?"

By the time they got back, Donna had made me shave myself – not that I needed
much – and used a home method to pierce my ears. She had used an electric
curling iron to curl the hair on my brow and painted my nails. Put a little
perfume on me. I still wore my brown skirt and white blouse but I was decidedly
more feminine than I had been when the girls and Cynthia left.

I won't try to describe the feelings of shame I went through when the girl I
wanted as my wife, returned and presented me with various items of ladies
lingerie that was to be worn at night – the shame as I held the items up against
myself and cooed how pretty they were, while Amanda, Betty and Caroline almost
had a fit laughing.

Donna was an apt trainer. For the next few months, I lived the life – and
became – a proper young lady. I never saw another article of male clothing. I
answered to Alice – and learned to ignore being called Albert. In many ways I
became like another daughter to Donna – a sister to Cynthia. I suppose that the
only thing of consequence was that they discovered that I would have to undergo
a physical examination to prove that my breasts weren't padding. For some
reason, I was becoming more relaxed in my new role – perhaps the pills they had
me take daily? But it made temporary sense for me to have realistic silicon
breasts injected in the appropriate locations.

It made sense that I take more pills to make sure not to have a bad reaction
once that surgery was complete. I DID notice that my voice was becoming softer
– surely that was all of the practice? My hips more pronounced – corset
training? And I didn't seem to have as many erections as I'd once had, (This
may have been an increase in my reaction with the girls. They seemed to find it
funny to refer to me as Alice and take me into their arms on a regular basis.
Now that I wore panties all the time – and had many pairs available to me in the
house they didn't mind me getting wet), To be quite truthful, I wanted to speak
to Cynthia about this but I often found that I had the feeling that she'd be
watching one of her friends caress me – then bring me to orgasm with a hand up
my dress or skirt. It'd be embarrassing for me of course – but how was a bride
to be to behave?

Time went by and I became more and more like a sweet and shy girl. Cynthia
seemed to accept this and one day I realized that the girl I wanted to marry had
actually painted my nails – and had helped me with my hair rollers at night. (I
now had a completely feminine hairdo). Checked out my makeup and suggested a
different lipstick – and the worst of all this was the fact that it had all
seemed so perfectly natural!

As a reaction to this thinking, I guess that I had to show everyone that I was
still a guy. I don't even remember what it was I did – to be honest, acting in
a masculine manner was becoming more and more unnatural for me. But Cynthia and
the girls noticed it right away,
"Would you look at Alice?" Caroline tittered. "Acting as if she's a dyke!"
"Yes!" Amanda agreed and opened her arms. "Come into my arms Alice. That's a
pretty petticoat you're wearing under your dress. I'll make you feel like a girl
again."

But Cynthia was in a bad mood that day. "No Alice! What would my mom do if she
saw you acting this way – all boyish and not like a bride at all. Think she'd
be happy?"
Abashed and blushing, I looked down at the carpet. "No Cynthia. I don't think
she'd like it."
"Think she'd spank you on your panties? Teach you to behave properly?"
"I don't know Cynthia." I mumbled.
"Well, she'd gone shopping right now – so I'll have to do. Come over my knees
Alice. Now please!"

"But not a spanking Cynthia! You've never so much as touched me to this day!"
I whined, almost crying.
"I'm STILL not going to touch you. I'll hold your dress with my left hand and
spank your panties with my other. Now get over here – or do I ask the girls to
bring you here?"

And the girls all crowded around us as I put myself over Cynthia's knees and
giggled and laughed as she commented how pretty my dress was – and my petticoat
as I had to lift them out of her way. Then I had to admit – a number of times –
that she was spanking me for my own good – and tearfully, I did so.

After that episode I was as sweet and shy as anyone could ask for.

The day of the big race finally came and I was in my bridal gown completely for
the very first time. Parts of it had been fitted and altered a little to suit,
but with the three girls helping and laughingly describing themselves as
bridesmaids, I was soon completely dressed. I did notice that my breasts now
seemed completely natural and that the white lace corset that I wore seemed to
fit a figure that was feminine – rather than create it.

The dress was long and full, a beautiful mix of satin, tulle, and lace. Short,
full, puffy sleeves emphasized soft white arms that were deliciously feminine –
and I wondered when that had happened. I mean, I'd never been muscular but now
any hint of masculinity seemed to have disappeared, Not only that? But my feet
seemed to have become smaller – were positively dainty in my white shoes with
the pearl embroidery. Then I finally saw myself in a full length mirror and had
to gasp – I was a pretty bride! Smiling, Amanda put my veil on then carefully
covered up my face with it. I picked up my long train. (Donna had taught me
well).

Then I was escorted into the hall and found myself as part of a sea of white
brides. There were about twenty of us I guess, but the hall wasn't really that
big and I found myself touching other brides – then something I hadn't expected
– other brides commenting how lovely I looked. Naturally, I had to repay the
simpering comments and I saw Betty in the crowd that surrounded us – catching me
while I made a compliment – and saw the enjoyment she got as I acted the same as
the other brides.

Next, all of us brides had to singly walk out onto the middle of the floor and
curtsey to the judges. I wondered what this was for but discovered that a
handicap process was in force as some of us girls had short, easy to move in,
dresses – whereas others like myself had long trains which would make racing
difficult. There were about six of us with relatively short trains – although
one girl had a beautiful cathedral train and was given the best handicap. This
took a while and I was glad to see that the girls and Cynthia seemed to have
disappeared. Figured that they'd probably gone to the finish line. Finally,
all of us brides had been handicapped and we were all led outside.

Now the sponsors were there with packages of lingerie and cosmetics for us and
we had to be photographed. Luckily, I saw Donna and was able to give her my
package for me to use later. Then I reminded myself – this was it! This was my
last day as a girl. Surprisingly. I didn't feel as happy as I'd thought I'd be.
But I shook my head and carried on. Looked around me and saw the course.

No expense had been spared. A form of carpet had been laid from the hall about
five feet wide and stretching about two hundred yards and covered in with a
canopy – I guessed it was for possible rain although the day was fine. Us girls
were lined up by our handicap numbers – I even found myself giggling when I
caught myself thinking "Us girls". My training had been TOO effective I
thought. Have to start thinking of myself as a man again! The girls who wore
the freest gowns were the first to go. Sedately they went – as brides should –
though arm in arm, the full length of the course, with the Wedding March from
Lohengrin playing on loudspeakers. Then I was paired up with another girl.
('Another!' I found myself think) and when it was our turn we slowly minced our
way along the carpet to the music, smiling at the people who lined the course.
I also noticed that I was much prettier than my companion – which gave me lots
of reason to smile. Shook my head suddenly – I was thinking more and more like
a girl all the time!

Finally we were all positioned for our race back to the hall. The girls with
the shortest dresses were almost two hundred yards away from the finish line,
then there were a few scattered over the next fifty yards. With some giggling
amongst us, us six drew lots to position us, I had one just in front and four
close behind me – so that all I had to do was pass two girls – one with a train
similar to mine and the girl with the long cathedral train. I figured I had
about a hundred yards to go.

Now silence fell as the announcer said. "All right girls. Get your trains up
into your arms and be ready!"
I found myself giggling a lot as I pulled my taffeta train up and folded it in
my arm. Kept the other free for balance. Then a whistle – and we were off!

Donna had trained me well in that I had practiced in tight skirts and undies
many times. I was also used to high heels and I started out strongly. I passed
the girl in front of me quite easily, then found to my surprise that the girl
with the long train was moving quite easily and maintaining her lead. This
shook my confidence up and I started going faster than my plan called for – and
the laughing and cheering of the crowd distracted me.

Then I saw her falter and I was passed her, out two gowns floating about us as I
went past her side by side. And now the finishing post was about thirty yards
away, when I heard the silky rustle of two dresses at my back. I tried to
increase my speed, but couldn't. With a silky rustle and giggles, two girls
passed me to place first and second.

The girl who had won was put on a pedestal sort of thing, and all of us girls
had to curtsey and wish her all the best. Then I couldn't figure it out – all
of us other girls were herded into a side room and allowed to brush our hair and
fix our makeup – and there were no sour grapes. None at all. They were the
happiest losers I'd ever seen. Then I found out why.

My eyes grew wide as we were herded into the main hall in a soft cloud of white
and sensuous fabrics. The first thing I saw once my vision cleared, were
Amanda, Betty and Caroline – though all of them were identical green dresses,
wit large cartwheel hats. Looked like bridesmaids was my first thought – then
they beckoned to me and as I went over seeing Donna in a pearl gray suit and
actually smiling at me.
"I'm sorry Mistress Donna," I said.
"You tried your very best Alice – and you look wonderful Just let the girls see
to your train and we'll go over here to join Cynthia."
I didn't quite know what to do when Amanda took my train and the other two
followed me – and then I saw that all the other brides were heading to a
circular altar – and Cynthia was wearing a white tux. She was wonderful as
always – although she did look sort of masculine.

Later, we were in a limousine all by ourselves. Her arm was around me and she'd
just kissed me. "You my lovely bride now Alice?" she asked me softly.
"But - But - I'm a man!" I panted.
"Oh? Let me try something," she said – and her hand was up inside my dress.
"Strange dear? You SURE you're a man? I just feel something small and soft,
Certainly not an erection there! You sure now?"
What she had said was true. I really couldn't feel any response from me. "Maybe
the excitement? The race and all?" I hazarded a guess.
"Maybe you're right," she said. But then she seemed to have withdrawn something
from her inside pocket and as she put it under my skirt I herd this funny sort
of noise. "Tell me honestly now Alice! How does THIS feel?"

And something hard was touching my rear end, buzzing its way in between my
panties and gently touching my anus.
"I - I - don't know!" I murmured.
She pulled me into her embrace with one arm and worked the vibrator inside me a
little. "You'll get used to it Alice," she said.

Josie and her new job

By: Josie girlc

My Alarm sounds off and I wake and almost forget what has happened to me over
the last decade. But as I rub my eyes and take my hands from my face and look
at them I seen the pink acrylic ½ inch nails staring back at me, the various
rings on my fingers, the hairless arms and I am brought back to my reality. I
am a feminized male.
Today is a work day for me. My wife (should I say that because we certainly
don't look like a man & woman marriage, maybe 2 lesbians in marriage) calls
out to me "Josie sweetie I have a surprise for you to wear this morning to
work."
Sarina comes in my little bedroom and in her arms is a corset. The old
fashioned kind that has laces running up the back. It is a black see through
and it looks too small, but I'm sure I will get it to tighten around my body.
She has a wide grin and tells me to put this on and she will tighten up the
laces. I comply, there is no fight left in me. I'm really just a sissy girl at
this point. I have been living as a female sissy for all these years. I was at
one time just a cross dresser that got enjoyment and my "rocks off" putting on
women's clothes ever since I was a little boy. Sarina was a willing
participant and has a dominant streak that she loved to explore. But I was
greedy and got involved with other women and occasionally would cheat on my
wife. After being caught in a rather expensive affair, in debt, and really no
one to bail me out. Sarina came to my rescue but there were 'strings
attached".
She was pissed that I was with another female and she decided to teach me a
life long lesson. She would be sure that another straight female wouldn't want
me, because she had me dress every day from head to toe as a female. And I had
to act feminine as well. I had a device locked on my penis that never comes
off. It is attached to a chain belt that wraps around my waist and is
padlocked on. My little penis is pulled between my legs and also locked to it.
This makes erections impossible. It makes you have to pee sitting down and
gives you a nice "camel toe" appearance when you are wearing tight pants,
shorts or a bathing suit. (Yes in summer I wear one piece suits to the beach).
My hair was grown long, had a body perm, cut in a permanent women's hair
style. It's a cute bob that brushes my shoulders, is curled underneath colored
bright platinum, with cute fluffy bangs across my eyes. I have to go every 8
weeks and get these extensions that are sewn in retightened. But my bangs
don't go low enough to hide my tattooed eyebrows. These are in a permanent
"who me" look. When I first got waxed there I sort of put up a fuss about the
feminine shape. Sarina just handcuffed me, tied me to a chair. Duct taped my
neck to the back of the chair and got out a safety razor.
It only took a few seconds to swipe each brow. They were gone forever. She
then "drew on "my expressions with an eyebrow pencil. It was an embarrassing
few weeks to have to sit there and have her decide each morning what my "look"
was to be that day. Sometimes they were very thick, sometimes very thin. High
arch some days were drawn on. I had a "happy look" sometimes or I was made to
look angry other days. When my brows would start to grow back the hairs that
would start to come out. Sarina would have me pluck them out. So eventually
when you do that to your brows they will never grow back. Then I was taken to
a cosmetology clinic and I had to tell the women there that I wanted a nice
thin feminine arch. These get re-touched every 6 to 8 months now.
I also had my lips outlined in a nice light pink color, and my eyes were also
done in a nice soft brown under and above so I look like I have make-up on all
the time. It makes it impossible to think you can ever be dressed as a male
again. With being shaved from top to bottom, acrylic permanent nails (refilled
every 2 weeks), tattooed make-up and an obvious female hair color & cut I am
to the casual observer a female.
I have been given anally progesterone to enhance my breasts and give me a nice
bottom. It has rendered me impotent (Like I could have sex anyway). When I
fussed about taking the progesterone I was tied over a bench, my ass in the
air and extra ones were popped in for putting up a fuss. My penis is no bigger
than my pinkie and my balls have become the size of a grape. When all this
gets done to you, you really can't go back, or fight back, you try to be as
girly as possible and just try and get through seeing life from the female
side. You get used to it SO YOU THINK.
But Sarina loves sending me on errands in girly, feminine outfits. I have had
many different jobs as a female as well. First she used some of her friends to
let me "work for them" this got me into the "system" as a female. Her
girlfriends would know and loved "fixing" a cheating used to be spouse. I
worked at a retail store at the mall, at a travel agency, as a hostess in a
restaurant just to name a few.
As I start to get laced up in my new corset, my body is pushed and pulled into
a nice "hourglass" shape. Sarina tightens it up to the point that I can only
take shallow breaths. Tied into several knots and then I hear the "click" of
the padlock. It's not coming off until she decides. With the hormones my
bottom is sticking out more and my waist is very small and this corset pushed
my hips out. With my padding added to my already plump chest I look very
womanly. I finish dressing, put on my black panty hose, and step into my
little maroon jumper. Put on my little black 3 inch pumps, Finish up my
make-up and put up my hair into an updo using some big clips. A few pieces of
my hair are placed to drape in front of my ears. My dangling silver earrings
brush my shoulders and I can feel them sway as I walk out to my little bright
green neon carrying my black sneakers in my large purse.
I drive to my destination and of course park in the back, wiggle in and check
in. I go into the Ladies room and change my shoes. I'm ready for another day
at the Diner!!.
Yes, my new job is as a waitress, working the breakfast & lunch counter at a
diner.
Thank god in order to blend in I can wear sneakers like the rest of the girls.
But when I'm done work I have to don my pumps to wiggle out to my car and
drive home. I get to smile and talk as girly as possible to all the different
people that stop in. I carry my coffee pots around and fill up the cups and
chat with all the old farty men that try and flirt with anything in a skirt.
My name tag reads "Josie" and I get all the stupid remarks about "Josie & the
pussy cats". Especially with my Platinum colored hair, apparently the cartoon
girl also has platinum hair.
Sometimes Sarina will come in for lunch and just grins from ear to ear to see
me hustling and wiggling around taking orders and bussing tables. She will sit
at my station and then tell me in a low whisper how much I look like every
other waitress now. And how my shaved legs look pretty in the dark hose or
nude hose that I wear every day. Sometimes she tells me she is going to expose
me to everyone that I used to me a male. She will then tell me softly how I
need to have my wrists a little more limp, wiggle that butt, or smile and tilt
my head when I speak to be more girly.
She says "Josie dear, you really have come a long way, and you are hopelessly
feminized girlfriend". Then adds "I like you in this job, I think this will
last for a few years before I have you make a change."
All I can say is "Have you decided on your order Ma'am". I smile a happy grin
to fit my happy eyebrows as I take out my order pad and pencil with my acrylic
pink nails.

08 February 2011

Brittany's Strapon Hell Week 5

By: humbleslave

I awoke on Friday morning to the sound of Mistress Brittany on the phone.
"Yes, we'll be there to pick up the car at noon, thank you," she said.
"Well slave, I decided to wrap up the conference early, so we can take a
side trip. It's a surprise for you, since you've been such a trooper all
week. Now go get yourself ready."

I went in the bathroom and took a quick shower, tossed on a tank top, a
pair of jeans and heels, and brushed out my blonde locks. As Mistress
finished getting ready, I carefully packed up both our bags. My clothes
had taken a beating worse than I had over the past week, and I knew I
would be stopping at the dry cleaners when we returned to Los Angeles.
Mistress emerged, and we loaded up the car and took off.

A few miles down the road, I began to see signs for my hometown Tampa, and
my heart caught in my throat. Mistress must have read my mind, because she
laughed. "I've always wanted to meet the people responsible for your
creation," she said. I simply lowered my head and did not respond. My
parents had seen the video of Mistress Chantz fucking me in the ass, but
this was taking it to a whole new level. "You may call me Brittany in
front of your parents," she generously offered as we pulled up to the
house.

My mother met us at the door, with a kiss and hug for each of us.
"Brittany, it's so good to finally meet you, after all the lovely chats
we've had. Brad, you're looking good. I assume she's keeping you out of
trouble?" she laughed. "Your father is out of town, it's a shame, I'm sure
he'd have wanted to see you. You two must be tired, and it's getting late.
I've made up the guest bedroom for you," she offered.

"That's very sweet of you, Mrs. Smith, but if you don't mind, Brad and I
sleep in separate beds. It's only proper."

"But I thought..." my mother trailed off.

"Our relationship is very unique and we are very close, almost like
sisters," Brittany explained. "It's gotten much deeper, and we prefer to
have it this way, if you don't mind."

"Not at all, I'll make up the other room," my mom said.

"Don't trouble yourself with that, mom, I'll just sleep on the floor. It's
good for my back," I said, as I inadvertently cupped my tits in my hands.

With that, my mom went off to bed, and Mistress and I went into the guest
room, which was next to my parents' bedroom. Mistress had laid out a white
shelf bra, thong, garter belt, thigh highs, and lace and silk baby doll on
the bed, with the matching heels on the floor. I busied myself putting
everything on, and as I finished buckled the strap on my heel, I looked up
to see Mistress Brittany in full domme attire. Her blonde hair was pulled
into a stern ponytail, and she was wearing a leather bustier, which
accentuated, but did not cover her tits and black, metal-studded, thigh-
high boots. She was carrying a riding crop, and belted around her waist
was a 14 inch ribbed black strapon.

This particular strapon also had a heating pad-like device that spread out
across the wearer's pelvic area. It provided a nice warming sensation to
the wearer, but burned the wearer's victim. It was also very thick. It was
designed to inflict pain. Mistress said it was so she didn't have to wear
herself out spanking my ass. I was tossed onto the bed, and my arms were
bent in half, each wrist tied to its shoulder. The same was done to my
legs, tying each ankle to its thigh. "Mistress, please, not here" I softly
pleaded with her.

"I guess you'll just have to be quiet, won't you?" she laughed, as she
buckled a white leather collar around my neck. Next, she lifted me up on
my elbows and knees, and I heard a leash being snapped onto the collar. I
glanced over my shoulder to see that the leash was made of a series of
white beads, which increased in size as they got closer to the collar.
"Now let's get you warmed up," she said. With that, she flipped the baby
doll up over my backside, and started whaling on me with the riding crop,
as she pulled my head back with the leash.

Now, I had acquired a pretty high tolerance for pain, but after a few
minutes I couldn't take it anymore. I also knew I couldn't yell, for fear
of waking my mom. So I jerked my head forward and bit into the pillow. To
my surprise, she stopped hitting me briefly, and let me rest my head on
the pillow. Then I felt my head being pulled back, slowly and steadily,
and simultaneously felt my ass being filled, but not by cock. The leash
was a string of anal beads, and each one that went into my ass, pulled my
head back and arched my back even more severely.

Once I was stretched as far as I could go, head back, pillow still
dangling from my mouth, Mistress grabbed onto the leash between my collar
and asshole, and rammed all 14 inches of her cock straight into my ass. I
screamed into the pillow, as my hole was immediately ripped open, and my
ass began to burn from the heating element, but I held onto the pillow.
She reached forward and pulled down the top of the baby doll, leaving the
shelf bra to support my bouncing tits. She continued to hammer away at my
ass, my tits swaying wildly, using short, quick strokes to maximize her
pleasure and my pain. It was only a matter of time until I dropped the
pillow and screamed, which would wake my mom for sure.

I knew Mistress was just toying with me, and that she could make me drop
that pillow whenever she wanted. She enjoyed watching me suffer, and work.
All of sudden, she removed her cock all the way to the tip, and then
rammed it all the way back home. By this time, all the fucking had
loosened up my ass quite a bit. As she started to withdraw, the entire
leash flew out of my ass, bead by bead, causing my head to fly forward,
and I simultaneously lost the pillow, orgasmed, and screamed.

There was a rustle next door, and I heard someone get up. Mistress wasted
no time getting in front of me, pulling me by the leash up to my knees,
and shortening the leash in her hand until her cock was buried in my
mouth. To my horror, my mother walked into the room, and rubbed her eyes.
What she saw, was her once macho son, wearing white platform heels, which
were resting on his ass, and matching thigh highs, garter belt, shelf bra
and silky baby doll, bound, collared, and leashed, sucking the gigantic
black cock of his "friend."

"Good evening, Mrs. Smith," Mistress said nonchalantly, as she continued
to skull fuck me. "You are not dreaming. When I said our relationship has
gotten deeper, I was telling the truth. She used to only be able to take
six inches, the one I just pulled from her ass, the one she is currently
servicing, is 14 inches. It's also true that we don't sleep together. I am
her Mistress, and she is my slave, my slut, my own personal fucktoy, if
you will." She pulled the cock from my mouth. "Now apologize to your
mother for waking her up."

"I am deeply sorry for waking you up mother. Rest assured it will not
happen again. I will make it up to you before I leave," I said, my face
burning with embarrassment.

"I will personally see to it that she will not disturb you further,"
Mistress assured her, as she shoved a cock gag into my mouth and secured
it. She then threw me onto my back, and jammed her dick back into me.
"We'll see you at breakfast," Mistress laughed as she continued to abuse
me. I caught a glimpse of my mother leaving the room from behind my
flopping tits, and I heard the door close.

A few hours later, I awoke to the sunlight coming into the room, and a
feeling of fullness in my ass. I looked down to see the cock was still in
my ass, and at some point I had been rebound, so that only my hands were
bound to each other, in front of me. Mistress was nowhere to be seen, but
I assumed she had gone for a morning run. I heard the door open, so I
quickly pretended to be asleep. My mother came into the room, and pulled
off the covers, then took what was probably a note off my back and read it
aloud.

"Please let sleeping beauty rest, she's had a long night. What you saw
last night was real. Lift up her nightie in the back." I felt a cool
breeze on my crimson ass, and I heard a gasp as my mother discovered a 14
inch black strapon in my ass. To my surprise, she gave it a few taps,
driving it into my ass, but not enough to elicit an audible response from
me. I heard her leave the room, and awhile later, Mistress Brittany
reentered the room. She looked absolutely stunning, in a pink sports bra
and tiny pink sweat shorts, sweat glistening off her perfect body. She
quickly buckled herself back in to the harness and gave me a few quick
pokes before she yanked the cock from my ass and untied my hands.

I stood up gingerly and minced my way to the bathroom, not bothering to
cover my huge, sore tits. I undressed and jumped in the shower. A few
moments later, Mistress joined me in the shower. She kissed me tenderly,
working her way down my body, and we scrubbed each other clean. She
nibbled on my ear and caressed my breasts. I felt so loved. We got out,
and changed into matching white sweatpants and wife beaters, and went back
to the guest room. We lounged around all afternoon watching TV. I felt so
safe in her arms. "It's time to get ready for our date," Mistress said.

She led me to the bed, where she had laid out my outfit. I put on a baby
blue spaghetti strap tank top and a wrap around, pleated denim mini skirt.
Red lipstick, a small handbag, and wooden platform sandals completed the
look. "Oops, I almost forgot this," she said, as she tossed me a miniscule
baby blue thong, which I slid up my legs. "I know you like going braless,
I prefer you that way too," she said. She knew me so well.

Mistress came back into the room dressed as a man. She was wearing men's
dark blue jeans, black shoes, a hat, and a baggy button up Hawaiian shirt.
She took me by the arm, and led me to the car, promising my mother she'd
have me back by ten.

We went to dinner and a movie, and were having lovely evening out. Oddly
enough, she paid for everything. She never paid for anything. On the way
home, she reached over and began to grope my leg. Then she reached up and
pinched my nipples, bringing them to attention under the thin tank I was
wearing. My nipples were very sensitive since the operation, and I began
to get aroused. I leaned over and unzipped her jeans with my teeth, and
out popped a nice eight inch, flesh colored cock. I got to work, giving
her a terrific blow job as we sped down the road.

After a few minutes, the car slowed to a stop, and Mistress got out of the
car and told me to do the same. I looked around, and though there had been
some changes, I could see it was the park I used to play in as a kid. She
led me over to a new piece of equipment. It was a large wheel, with hand
grips to the side, which kids could run on, sort of like a treadmill. I
was quickly bent over the wheel, which hit me right at waist level, and my
hands were placed on the grips. I quickly bucked my hips to flip my tiny
skirt up over my ass, as Mistress pulled down my tank top and yanked my
panties down to my knees.

Her cock was eased into my ass, inch by inch. "I could tell you wanted
this all night," she whispered in my ear. "Dressed up like you are,
turning me on like that. You're a dirty girl, and you're going to get
every inch of my dick and you're gonna like it." She began to fuck me
hard, but she knew that the eight inch cock was the perfect length for my
pleasure. The motion of our fucking caused the wheel to rub against my
tiny cock and my tits, further arousing me.

After a nice hard fuck, she removed her cock from my ass, and grabbed my
hips, indicating that I should stand up. She led me over to the picnic
table, which was not an easy task, as I had to mince slowly to keep my
panties around my knees, and my sandals from slipping off. As I walked, I
reached up and took off my tank top, accidentally causing my skirt to flip
back down over my ass. Mistress let go of my hand, and I bent myself over
the short end of the picnic table, panties around my knees, reaching back
to flick my tiny skirt up out of the way. I glanced over my shoulder,
biting my finger sexily and wiggling my ass invitingly. Then I turned back
around and grabbed both sides of the table, bracing myself for this most
welcomed invasion.

I didn't have to wait long, and I felt lube being applied to my ass. This
really was my lucky day! I felt Mistress's tits brush against my back and
her well-lubed cock brush between my cheeks. Then I felt a pain in my
right nipple followed quickly by a tug, which brought my face closer to
the picnic table, and then pain in my left nipple. She had attached nipple
clamps to my tits, and fed the short connecting chain through one of the
boards on the table. "That's for you baby, I know you like it doggy style,
and I know how you love your nipples played with," she whispered, as she
slid her cock into me. This time she took it slow, filling me with nice,
long strokes, and caressing my hips as ass cheeks as she did so.

After awhile, I felt her pull out, but I was not ready to be done yet. I
was fully aroused and needed more cock in my ass. I looked back over my
shoulder, and gave her my sexiest pouty "please take me" look. Mistress
laughed, "Well, looks like someone's a needy girl. Prove to me you want
it. Come and get it! I back up as far as the clamps would allow me, and
then arched my ass up, and impaled myself on her cock. I continued to
violate myself on the cock, nonchalantly putting my elbows on the table,
and my head in my hands, like I was lying on the floor reading a book. I
was so close, yet despite my efforts, I could not orgasm.

Mistress, sensing my frustration, instructed me to remove the nipple
clamps as she slowly removed her phallus from my ass. Then she spun me
around and sat me down on the picnic table, grabbing me tenderly by the
neck and easing onto my back. She unbuttoned my skirt, leaving the now
flat scrap of material as a cushion for my ass. My ankles were placed on
her shoulders and her dick found its way back into my ass, where I wanted
it. As she picked up the pace on my well-stretched ass, she began a
twisting motion that she had never done before. I was literally being
screwed! I imagined the scene: A hot blonde getting nailed on a picnic
table at dusk, pinching her nipples and writhing in pleasure, her legs
flailing wildly as her panties swirl around her ankle, her lover hammering
away, pants around his ankles, a few buttons missing from his shirt.

My vision was quickly interrupted by the flashing of police lights and the
approach of two people. At that moment, Mistress hit my prostate, and I
screamed out in pleasure as the best orgasm of my life racked my body. She
quickly removed her cock from me, and threw her clothes back on, as a
flashlight was shone in my eyes. I recognized the cop as the father of my
old friend Bill Thomas. "Mr. Smith, my how you've changed," he laughed. "I
just had to come see this for myself, thanks for calling me Brittany," he
added. This was all a set up! "Hey Bill, come over here," he yelled.
"Remember Brad Smith? Here he is!" Another man approached me and started
laughing as well.

"I guess we'll have to book him for public indecency," Bill said, as he
cuffed me and threw me naked into the cruiser. "Brittany, you are free to
go. Thank you for alerting us to this situation. We can't have naked
people pleasuring themselves in public parks." They hadn't seen her
fucking me in the ass! "Just wait until we get you downtown," Bill
laughed.

"Bye bye, sweetie. Have fun in jail," Brittany laughed, as we pulled away
in the cruiser, lights flashing.