Four
“Oh, I’m glad I found you, Joannie,” said Mary sweetly. “We want you to meet Butch. He is going to be your date for most of this weekend. You two should get to know each other. Don’t stray too far away, Joannie. In a little while we’ll be going back to the dormitory to change clothes before we go to the cook-out and barbecue later. Pick you up soon, dear.”
As Mary and Doris left us, I glanced up at Butch who was looking me over carefully. To my surprise he looked almost as awkward and uncomfortable in this situation as I felt. From my own experience as a young male, most fellows would be very pleased to have a sexy cute girl for a date, and would quickly begin trying to arrange to get to know her better, much better, intimately so. Any such carnal efforts by a fellow would make my enforced transvestite situation much worse, of course, so I was glad that this Butch wasn’t obviously trying to promote anything with me.
A little later Mary and Doris collected me to go back to State College and change clothes for the coming barbecue. They told Butch to meet us at the dormitory in an hour and he accepted the invitation even though it sounded more like an unwelcome order for him.
Upstairs in the big bedroom a number of the girls gathered around to heckle and tease me while I was commanded to perform a strip-tease for their amusement. First I had to take off the short pleated skirt and par ade around before them displaying the tiny red bikini panties which encased me loins. Then I removed the panties and showed myself off in just the snug transparent pantyhose, to my terrible shame and humiliation.
Next it was time to take off the tight sweater which had displayed my false breasts so voluptuously. Then the girls made me mas sage and squeeze those lushly protruding hemispheres as if I was amusing myself sensuously and flaunting those symbols of my assumed femininity. Not only was this terribly embarrassing for me, but it also kept me painfully aware of my hairless and chafed chest beneath.
Now I had to remove the high-heeled boots and the filmy pantyhose, and then parade around among the jeering and critical audience wearing only the too-tight waist-cinch and the cord attaching my masculinity to the cinch in back. The girls made me keep playing with my breasts while their hands seductively inspected the effectiveness of the noose and cord in keeping my genitals down and pulled tightly back between my thighs.
While this many-handed caressing was going on, Mary and Doris began criticizing and berating me for not sticking out my chest enough and not wiggling my seat enough when I had been strutting saucily around at the
high school. They claimed that since I had wanted to be a girl, they wore going to insist that I be the most feminine and enticing and exhibitionistic girl possible. And since I had disobeyed them, I would have to be punished.
After tightening up the waist-cinch some more until I could hardly breathe, they fastened my wrists together again behind my back. A rope was looped around my wrists and pulled tight over the top of the closet door before it was slammed shut, thus holding me bent forward with my head against the door and my buttocks stuck out bare and unprotected toward the girls in the room.
Now each of my tormentors got a weapon to punish my bottom with, some had ping-pong paddles. Others had leather belts. One had a riding-switch. Another had a doubled dog-leash, while another had a long flat ruler. The most imaginative had a tennis racquet, to remind me of what had gotten me into this mess in the first place.
“Now, Joannie,” said Doris severely. “Like any bad girl, youre going to get a spanking on your bare bottom, to teach you that you have to obey orders. And you’ll get another spanking whenever you disobey, such as if you are not very nice and affectionate with Butch, during your date with him over this weekend.”
I quaked in my strained, bent-over pose at the possibilities that this plan might involve, but Doris was continuing to threaten me, “I Know this spanking is going to hurt, and make your cute bottom all hot and red, but we
can’t have you yelling and crying here. If you make any resistance or make any noise, we’ll take you outside, nearly naked as you are, and with your hands fastened behind your back, and turn you loose on the campus. Then you can see how you make out.”
I had visions of being arrested or otherwise discovered in this terrible condition. The humiliation would be awful, and my reputation would be ruined for life. I knew I have to bear in silence whatever she wanted to inflict upon me.
Now the spanking began. The girls walked past me in a line, each girl delivering a stinging swat with her particular instrument of punishment before circling back to the end of the line for another chance at abusing my out-thrust seat. The brisk scalding blows seemed to come in unending succession, landing continuously on my hips, my buttocks, my lower back, and my upper thighs. The heat of inflammation rose within my whole pelvis and it felt as if flames were licking hungrily at every surface.
Finally they finished but that did not mean that this part of my ordeal was over. I was still forced to hold my bent-over pose while my tormentors used their hands and eyes to inspect the results of their punishment. They giggled at how red the whole area was and the snickered with pleasure at how hot my exposed flesh felt to the touch.
In preparation for my next transvestite costume, my ultra-tight waist-cinch was now removed, which meant
that the cruel bondage on my masculine equipment also came off. Then the rope holding my hands up and back was released, the girls took sadistic pleasure in fondling my maleness, making me respond to these intimate caresses but frustrating any relief for me in that department.
Now I was handed a small, flesh-colored, elastic panty-brief and told to put it on. The garment was so tiny and the rubberized stretchability so strong that I had a difficult time getting it up my legs and settling it about my loins. My genitals were stringently compressed and hauled down between my thighs. This was very uncomfortable for me as you can imagine, and insured that there would be no revealing bulge in the front of whatever exterior garment I would be wearing. High-heeled sandals were put on my feet and securely laced up around my ankles and calves so that there could be no chance of my being able to take them off. All this time I could feel my spanked bottom glowing hotly and pinkly as a symbol of helplessness in the power of these angry girls.
To cover the lower half of my body they gave me some low-waisted, hip-hugger denim dungarees to wear. Again it was a struggle to get them on and buttoned up, for they were a size to fit a much smaller girl that I was masquerading as. These jeans clung to my hips and thighs as if they had been painted on me and the swelling of my spanked seat filled them very tightly.
The upper half of my body, over the exaggeratedly padded brassiere, was now adorned with a short blouse of white satin. This exotic garment had a stand-up collar that encircled my neck, and a two-inch band that encircled my chest just below my bra. It buttoned down the back so that the front of my upper torso was a facade of gleaming satin with the twin mountains of my ersatz breasts jutting out proudly from in between the bottom of the blouse and the waist band of my hip-hugger slacks was a broad expanse of bare flesh, including my belly-button and my hairless tummy. The blouse had long full sleeves with wide buttoned cuffs, to hide the essentially masculine shape of my arms.
After repairing my cosmetic make-up and rearranging my hair into an upswept effect that fully exposed my ears, the girls brought out the earrings I was to wear for this next stage of my transvestite ordeal.
They were huge, with bright red faceted glass prisms bigger than an olive dangling from chains about an inch long. When these were screwed painfully tight onto the lobes of my ears, I was not only aware of the pain of having that sensitive flesh crushed, but the weight of the heavy earrings kept a constant drag on my lobes that hurt a lot.
I immediately discovered that each slightest movement of my head sent these glass pendants flying around wildly, glinting flashes of red in all directions. This was bad enough, but now to my horror, they brought out
four more of the shiny red glass baubles on chains, and one without any chain. They pinned one of the scintillating red jewels onto the front of my white satin blouse right at the summit of each tautly bulging synthetic breast. The other two dangling red brilliants were pinned onto the seat of my skin-tight jeans, right on the most prominent areas of my swollen buttocks.
While I was still dismayed at these bizarre ornaments to my already exotic transvestite costume, my captors filled my belly-button with some quick-drying glue and then stuck the unmounted red-glass into that depression where it immediately was glued in place. And now, with each breath and with each movement of my hips or torso, that jewel winked its blood-red glitter to attract attention to my transformed body.
Now once more I was ordered to parade around for the entertainment of my tormentors. As I moved and posed in front of the big mirror, I was truly horrified at what I saw my head was feminized by the upswept hair-do, the carefully applied cosmetics, and the heavy, glinting, dangling earrings. My upper body was exaggeratedly girlish because of the shiny white satin blouse which concealed my arms but emphasized the huge bold mounds of my padded bra. My slim bare midriff with its blinking red jeweled eye was the ultimate in feminine glamour. The high-heeled sandals exaggerated the length and curves of my legs in typically female fashion.
But the worst part of all was the skin-tight hip-hugger jeans which so snugly encased the region of my hips. Clinging to my flesh with hardly a wrinkle, they surged out over the curve of my inflamed and swollen buttocks. They were so tight that the fabric was drawn deeply in between my spanked bottom-cheeks, emphasizing their prominence and separation. My hips seemed femininely broad within the tight revealing material. In the front, the sleek denim curved down from well below my navel, accentuating the curve of my lower belly. But where the clinging dungarees passed between my thighs was the most emasculating sight of all.
The painfully tight elastic panty-brief that served as underwear was crushing all my masculine equipment up and back so rigorously that there was no expected male bulge visible to my startled eyes. In fact, there was even a shallow valley where the front center seam passed down out of sight between my thighs to join the deeper seam which was separating my swollen buttocks. And with each step I took, those sensitive elements so tightly compressed between my legs were buffed and massaged strongly.
It was nearly dark outside now, and I had to accompany the dominant girls to a wooded area on the outskirts of the campus where the cook-out and barbecue was to be held. Altogether there would be about twenty-five girls and a similar number of fellows. There was a large charcoal grill where ham burgers could be cooked, along with plenty of french-fries and lots of beer and soda.
After this informal supper, there would be a big dance in the gymnasium, with live music from a rock band.
There were several of these very bright gasoline lanterns for and almost everyone had his or her own flashlight. The general mood was of gay festivity, even though I was frightened and resentful at what was being inflicted upon me because of what I had considered merely a practical joke. I was further alarmed when I spotted Butch coming toward me, even though his whole manner was far from menacing and he seemed nearly as uncomfortable about the whole situation as i felt. He was big and very handsome, but I somehow got the idea that he disliked or was afraid of girls. As far as I was concerned, that suited me perfectly, since I was his date.
When everyone had had all the beer and hamburgers they wanted, Doris stood up in the light of the bright lanterns and called for attention. When the whole group could hear her, she announced, “We’ve got some special entertainment for you this evening before we all go to the gym. As you know, our freshman tennis captain lost her singles match this afternoon to the captain of the high school girls’ tennis team. Mary was beaten because her opponent played a more powerful, almost a masculine type of game. Mary was beaten by Joannie, who is here with us now. To amuse you, Joannie is going to perform in her favorite hobby, belly-dancing. So let’s give Joannie a big hand, and turn all our lights on her as she dances for our entertainment now.”
I was stunned. I wanted to die, or sink into the ground and disappear. So that was why I was wearing the glittering red spangles and the gleaming stone in my navel. I knew nothing about belly-dancing, but if I did not obey orders, the girls would reveal my true sex and identity, and I would be lucky to get out of this mess alive.
A couple of people present had guitars, and the rest began clapping their hands for rhythm, as I was shoved out into the center with all the lights aimed at me. In desperation I began to shuffle my feet and swing my legs in time to the music, and all the audience began to cheer as they clapped.
My dangling pendant earrings were twirling wildly, sending out showers of red sparks from the reflected light. The chained sparklers attached to what were meant to be my jutting nipples were whirling and glittering hotly with every movement. I knew that the pendants fastened to the seat of my tight dungarees must have been performing similar Technicolor acrobatics as my buttocks squirmed and clenched to the rhythm. Red flashes were also coming from my stomach where the jewel implanted in my bellybutton refracted and reflected the lights trained on me.
“Swing it, Joannie. Whirl it around,” called voices from the surrounding group. “Bounce those beautiful mounds, girlie. Wiggle your cute round bottom, make your bellybutton really light up the party.”
Gradually I increased the violence of my dancing in time to the music and clapping. The crowd was cheering me on, and that was much better than having them sufficiently antagonistic toward me to discover my true identity. I felt horribly humiliated and shamed by the contortions I was performing and the transvestite costume I was wearing, but this was infinitely better than what would surely happen if my imposture was discovered.
Now I stood with my feet in their high heels widespread and firmly planted. With my hands held high I began to weave my hips sinuously. I thrust my pelvis back and forward, and heaved it from side to side. This caused painful pressures and constrictions within my too-tight jeans, but I continued because only their continuing approval could save me from discovery and disaster. The jewel in my navel was winking mischievously at my audience, and I knew that the bouncing swaying red reflectors on my buttocks were sending exotic signals that the crowd was enjoying immensely.
Now I began to rotate my shoulders back and forth in short rhythmic arcs. This made my earrings dance and glitter in the bright lghts, and made the reflecting pendants attached to the tips of my well-padded bra-cups spin and twinkle like fireworks. Suddenly I began to know the inner warmth and satisfaction that any girl performer must know when her act is greeted with enthusiasm by watching girls and by mounting carnal desire by the watching males.
