Five
Now Doris was pushing Butch out into the open lighted area to dance with me. It was evident that he was objecting vigorously but she was forcing him to obey. The audience cheered wildly, and Butch realized that he had to go along with the idea, the way I had. I was still standing with my feet spread and my pelvis thrust forward, swirling my hips and twitching my shoulders, to make all my flashing red reflectors give the most startling effects. To my surprise, Butch did not approach me from the front to do his part of our dancing together. Instead he eased around behind me where he made no effort to touch my heaving bounding false breasts. He put his hands on my waist and began his own rhythmic thrustings and swivelings to the sensuous beat of the music and clapping.
As a finale for this wild dance, all the watching fellows and girls arose and began to dance together in the welllighted clearing. Some of the girls danced more gracefully than I had, but none of them was costumed to accentuate her ultimate femininity as I was, even though all of mine was false and my performance was unwilling. Soon this part of the weekend festivities was over, and all the fellows and girls left to get ready for the big dance in the gym. I had managed to get through this latest embarrassing ordeal without being discovered for the transvestite impostor that I was, even though I was playing that role unwillingly.
As I was led back to the girls’ dormitory, I saw that Butch was coming along with us. Doris was talking
seriously to him, evidently giving him orders of some sort. For his part, Butch seemed to be protesting, claiming that he either would not, or could not do something that Doris was demanding. Whatever it was, I had a terrible feeling that it would turn out to be bad news for me. In any event Butch soon left after promising to meet us at the gym later.
Upstairs in the big room which had been the scene of all my transvestite costuming I was ordered to strip, for I had another role to play before we all went to the dance. The girls all laughed derisively at me as I obeyed, knowing my humiliation and frustration. Then I was told that I was to be their ladies’ personal maid, helping them all out of their present clothes, then helping in every detail as they showered, and finally helping them get dressed for the big late party. I was sternly warned that if I did anything wrong, or if I showed any normal male reactions to so much naked and available female flesh, I would be thrown out of the building naked, and have to find my way home as best I could.
I was too worried about my bizarre plight to have much carnal interest even when my tormentors teased and tantalized my natural male libido by rubbing against me most intimately, and flaunting their most provocative feminine charms right before my hands and eyes. In the shower I had to soap and then rinse each of the several girls, an experience that put a terrible strain on my ability to control myself and my reactions.
The worst part came when they had me kneel down and then sit back onto my heels so that they could give me a shampoo. This position placed my face right at the level of their several sets of warm smooth hips, so that I was continually forced to stare at the masculine image of the Promised Land, without any chance of satisfying my normal masculine desires.
When I was out of the shower and all dried and powdered, they pinned a pert lacy cap on my heal and tied a tiny lacy apron around my waist. Then black pompoms were glued onto my chest, simulating female breasts with frivolous coverings. Black high-heeled shoes on my feet completed my costume of an exotic ladies-maid, and I was ready for my feminizing duties in helping the girls prepare for the big dance.
I helped some of my captors put on filmy pantyhose, making sure that they fitted perfectly all the way up, including in the crotch and around their hips and buttocks. Others wore garter-belts and regular nylons which it was my duty to adjust and fasten to the wearer’s satisfaction. Then there were dainty panties for me to hold while the girls casually and revealingly stepped into them, and bras to adjust and snap into place. And all the while I was wearing only those pompoms, and the transparent little apron to cover my naked hairless male loins.
For outer garments, some of the girls wore glamorous pant-suits, while others wore mini-dresses or long
evening-gowns, depending on their individual preferences. As I moved around performing my various duties for my dominant mistresses, it was a constant source of shame to me the way my tiny lace apron, my only real article of clothing, kept flipping up and around to further expose me to my captors laughter.
Finally it was time to get me dressed in my newest transvestite outfit to go to the dance in the gymnasium of the college. They removed my apron and the pompoms, and then replaced the waist-cinch which I had been forced to wear earlier in the afternoon. Using their Knees to brace against my back, the girls laced up this painfully constricting garment even tighter than before, giving my torso a truly wasp-waist conformation. My chest bulged above this feminizing compression, and my hips curved out exotically below it. I could hardly breathe, and any bending of my body was an effort that rave me strange feelings within my loins.
Next came a shiny black satin garter-belt, to which were tautly fastened sheer black nylon hose that clasped my legs in their smooth silky grip all the way from my feet up to nearly the top of my thighs where they joined my shaven body. This meant that my whole genital area in front, and my inflamed pink buttocks in back, were framed by contrasting black which accentuated my hairless nudity.
Shiny black patent-leather pumps with spiky high heels went on my feet. From the back of each shoe, a slavebracelet chain went around my ankle. This not only carried out the motif of the slave-bracelets on my wrists, but also made sure that I could not take off the shoes, no matter how awkward and distressing the stilt-like heel became.
Now they brought out a black mini-dress made of fairly stiff patent-leather. As I was wondering why they had not put the padded brassiere on me, I saw that the bizarre dress already had large rubber falsies sealed into the front of it in the appropriate places. The top was a halter effect, with a high bib and a collar that snapped around my neck. This left my back bare most of the way down to where my waist-cinch encased me.
There was a zipper up the back, all the way from the hem to well above my waist. This closure was necessary for otherwise I would not have been able to get into the exotic garment at all. At the waist it was very tight, and down over my hips and buttocks it followed my exaggerated curves with faithful accuracy. The hem was about a third of the way down my thighs, very short even for a miniskirt. The skirt was tight on my thighs, almost a hobble-skirt in effect. Fortunately the leather was firm and strong, for I found that with every step I was straining against it as it limited my strides to very short steps.
The combination of the ultra-tight waist-cinch, the too-snug skirt around the upper part of my thighs, and the stilt heels on my shoes, all tended to make me unstable on my feet. Fleetingly I wondered if all girls who wore bizarre fashions felt as bondaged and hampered in their movements as I did. Or did they eventually become accustomed to the exotic attire that they often wore to enhance their appearance and attract men. Maybe the feeling of helplessness and the intentional exaggeration of their feminine charms was enjoyable to them and an integral part of their sensual enjoyment. Surely it increased their allure for men who saw them. And for my present condition, even the symbolic slave-bracelets on my wrists and ankles seemed designed to show my defenseless availability to any man who desired me, whether I wanted It or not.
These philosophical thoughts were soon replaced by intensely practical problems as I was taken to the big dance in the college gymnasium. My false flaunted femininity was already attracting plenty of unwanted masculine attention even before we were inside the building. I could understand this, even if I did not like or approve of it, for I had studied my appearance in the big mirror back at the dormitory, and I knew I was really something to look at.
Within the shiny black leather bodice of the exotic dress, my simulated breasts thrust out boldly as symbols of my flaunted lush girlhood. My bared back revealed that I needed no supporting bra to hold those hemispheres firm and high to tempt all man kind. The long sleek glace kid
gloves which had been worked up shoulder-high on my arms and buttoned snugly at my wrists inside my slavebracelets, offered a sharp and glamorous contrast with the pale flesh of my face, back and shoulders. The inner waistcinch made my middle exaggeratedly slim in contrast to the swelling curves of my swollen hips and bottom.
The tough strong gleaming patent-leather of the skirt tightly covered my hips and upper thighs. With every step, diagonal wrinkles formed across the polished expanse of the front, drawing every eye to focus on my crotch, the center of male desire. Above my high-heeled, black patentleather shoes with their slave-chain anklet fastenings, my legs, their curves accentuated by the heels, were encased in my black nylon hose all the way up to where they disappeared beneath my so brief leather skirt.
Suddenly I froze in alarm. What I had not realized until that moment was that I had been provided with no underwear of any sort for my pelvic region. If I fell, or if I was not extremely careful in sitting down, all the indisputable evidence of my true maleness would be immediately exposed. I would be revealed as a transvestite so glamorously costumed as to exceed any real girl in seductive and exotic appearance.
I tried to tell Mary and Doris about this newly discovered problem, but they smiulingly said they had known it al along. The added difficulties and fear that now burdened me were an intentional part of my punishment,
and I would have to deal with the difficulties of maintaining my role as best I could. If I was discovered, they would insist that I had borrowed the clothes from them because I liked to dress up as a girl and tease fellows.
Another aspect of my present difficulty now occurred to me. Formerly I had always, in my enforced transvestite costumes, been clad in some sort of tight restrainer for my masculine equipment. These male chastity belts had been uncomfortable, but they had effectively kept my masculine gender from revealing itself in case I became erotically aroused during my intimate contacts with my feminine captors. Tonight if I got excited and engorged, there was nothing to keep my disguise from being exposed. Hopefully I wondered if the firm tight leather skirt was long enough and strong enough to conceal any such lack of control on my part this evening.
As we entered the building where the dance was already in full swing, we were met by Butch, who still seemed less than pleased at being stuck with me for a date. Of course I didn’t want a date with him either, or with any fellow, but I didn’t understand why he was so resentful of being paired up with the sexiest and most exotically clad girl there. All the other fellows seemed to be staring at me and practically licking their lips in anticipation of trying to make out with me. My costume was intentionally designed to arouse male carnal excitement, and we all knew it. Everyone was interested but Butch.
As we walked toward the dance-floor in the middle of the big room, Butch courteously put his hand and arm around me to guide me through the crowd. But instead of on my arm, or around my slim waist, his hand went instinctively toward my bottom where he gently clasped one of my swollen rounded buttocks.
Soon we were dancing, and I was finding things even more difficult than I had imagined they could be. In the first place, my straining tight waist-cinch made my whole body stiff and awkward, and the tight leather skirt around the tops of my nylon-clad thighs made it impossible for me to move my legs properly to maintain my balance while dancing. But the worst part of this terrible transvestism was the high heels of the shoes that I was wearing and could not remove because of the chains locking them on my ankles.
Normally I am a fairly good dancer and I usually enjoy it very much, but under these conditions it was a continuous nightmare of fear and frustration. I knew that if I slipped and fell, my skirt would fly up around my waist, and with no underwear, my imposture of being a fellow disguised as a sexy girl would be revealed and I would be mobbed by the hundreds of angry students.
Butch was an amazingly good dancer considering his size and his seeming embarrassment at being with me. For my part, I was ashamed at my enforced awkwardness, due primarily to the extremely high heels which I could not
remove. A number of other fellows cut in and danced with me, and Butch seemed relieved to be rid of my presence.These other fellows were very frank in their admiration of my bizarre costume and what they thought it contained in the way of female delicacies. They kept trying to get me to leave the party with them, or at least make a late-date to meet them after the dance was over. I had to smile and be polite to them, of course, but I explained that I already had a mate for later and all the time I had to be careful that my voice did not give me away in the role I was being forced to play.
When the orchestra took a break, Mary and Doris came over and took me off to one corner of the big gym. They asked me how I was doing in my public masquerade, and how many of the fellows had been propositioning me because of my glamorous appearance. I had to admit that my appeal to the male libido seemed all too successful. The girls laughed said that’s what happened to winning girl tennis-players like me. The more difficulties I got into because of my transvestite disguise the better they enjoyed it as part of my deserved punishment for taking my sister’s place.
When the music started up again, the many non-dancers gathered in a big circle around the lighted area in the center of the gym where most of the dancers were performing. This meant that the distant corners of the gym were dark and practically deserted except for a few romantic couples who were clasped tightly together in slow sensuous mutual enjoyment. The band was playing a slow romantic set, quite different from their previous loud raucous repetitive rhythms.
Now Mary began dancing with me, holding our bodies warmly close while she whispered intimately in my ear.
Her words were not the sweet endearments of normal lovers; they were accurate and detailed descriptions of what ardent, impassioned, and experienced lovers would be doing when in bed together. She described every possible activity of action and reaction in luridly clinical specific particulars. She itemized what she, as a girl, could do for me, as a male, itemizing each act and the expected reaction.
Now she turned me over to Doris as a partner for dancing to the slow sensual rhythm. Doris clung even closer to me, rubbing her breasts against me, and weaving her pelvis against mine. She made me tell her in every detail what Mary had told me, and all the while she was doing her best to stimulate me with her lithe and knowledgeable body. When we were deep in an unlit corner, she even reached one warm groping hand up under my leather skirt, and laughed tauntingly when she discovered how rigidly I was reacting to their teasing. We both then looked down at the front of my skirt and saw that my aroused and unhampered masculinity was straining outward, forming a noticeable lump in the surface of the tough shiny leather.
