Seven
“But I’m not a girl. I’m a fellow,” I yelled at him just as I felt his grasping fingers close around my unprotected male equipment which had been hidden beneath the skirt. “Those girls have been making me go around disguised as a sexy girl. I’m straight, normal, square, hetero, whatever you want to call it. I’m not dressed like this because I like it. I go for real girls who would dress like this.”
Butch froze into rigid immobility with one arm holding my upper body and his other hand firmly gripping my exposed maleness.
What he had discovered was quickly being digested in his mind. With his right hand still holding my upper body helpless, his left hand flipped up my skirt so his eyes could confirm what his fingers had uncovered. Now his fingers went to work on me, stroking and caressing my sensitive male flesh.
“Hey, cut it out, Butch,” I protested vigorously.
“Remember I’m straight. I don’t dig playing these games with you any more than you dig playing with girls. Stop doing that, and let me go. We’ll work it out with Mary and Doris, somehow.”
“To hell with Mary and Doris,” he muttered hoarsely as his hand continued to stroke me most intimately. Now he released me for a second and thrust his hand inside the bodice of my bizarre shiny leather dress. As soon as he discovered that my seemingly ultra-feminine breasts were actually rubber and sewn to the inside of the dress, hebecame even more excited and demanding. “They told me I had to rape you, and now it will be a pleasure.”
He had my skirt up around my waist so I had no protection from his perversely stimulating hands. When he began to grope at his own fly to free his own equipment for the coming assault, I knew I had to act fast. With one hand I unlatched the car-door on my side, and with my other hand I snatched his fingers away from my exposed hairless groin. Then, in a fraction of a second, I was out of the car and running as fast as I could toward the dubious safety of the girls’ dormitory. The tight skirt hampered my strides as it slid down into place, and my stilt-like heels made my steps very uncertain, but I heard Butch coming after me and that spurred me on to added efforts. I glanced back and saw that I would be in the building before he could catch me.
I was gasping for breath and truly frightened as I blundered my way into the big second-floor room which had been the scene of my transvestite disguises. Mary and Doris were sitting there, evidently awaiting my arrival, and almost in unison they asked, “How did you make out with Butch? What happened?”
“Nothing happened at first, as long as he thought I was a sexy girl,” Itold them slowly as I tried to calm myself even under these strange conditions. “But when he found out that I was a male, even though I was dressed up like a seductive woman, then he really tried to rape me, just like you told him he had to. Even when I told him that I wasn’t that kind of a fellow, he kept coming on strong. I managed to escape from him, and here I am. Will you please let me go now? It’s late, and I’m exhausted from all that’s happened to me today. I just can’t take any more. Please let me go.”
“Not a chance, Joannie,” said Mary firmly. “We have lots more things for you to do before we’re through with you. And lots more sexy girlish costumes for you to wear, so you’ll really find out what it’s like being a girl. You want to be a girl, don’t you, Joannie?”
“No, I don’t. And you Know it,” I protested wearily. “I only pretended to be my twin-sister that one time. And only because she broke her ankle and couldn’t play in that tennis match. I’ll do anything you say if you’ll Just finish this awful masquerade and let me get back to being a man.”
“You’ll do anything we tell you to do, anyway,” Doris informed me sternly. “And we’ll let you go when we get bored with dressing you up like a girl. You’re almost like a doll for us to play with, a real, live baby-doll who has to do anything we want.”
“So Butch was really scared of you as long as he thought you were a girl?” said Mary laughing.
“How did you feel, Joannie, when he discovered your true self, and began to go for you in a big way?”
“It was awful. At first he thought I was scared of him because I was a virgin and didn’t want to be raped,” I said.
“Well, in the way he wants you, I suppose you are a virgin, aren’t your” asked Doris. “Maybe we ought to give him a chance to fix that. I’ll bet he’d like it.”
“Oh, no. You can’t do anything as awful as that to me,” I begged, nearly in tears at the thought of being used and abused so cruelly for the amusement of these vengeful girls.
“We can do anything we want with you,” said Mary. “But now it’s late, way after midnight, so it’s time we got you dressed for the night. Take off all your lovely clothes, Joannie, except your waist-cinch.”
Even after having had to do it several times before, it was still terribly humiliating to me to have to strip and expose my hairless body before these dominant girls. When I was wearing only the painfully tight flesh-colored band around my middle that gave me an accentuated feminine outline, they handed me the too-tight, fleshcolored, tiny elastic panty-brief which had encased and constricted my crotch when I had been forced to do the red-spangled belly-dance at the cook-out. I had to struggle into this, and when it was in place, the pressure on those sensitive tissues between my thighs was extremely uncomfortable, completely emasculating in appearance.
Next, two large and very realistic foam-rubber breasts were securely glued onto my hairless chest, adding further feminine curves to my altered shape. As I glanced into the big mirror, I could almost believe that I was looking at a naked girl, for all my obvious male attributes had been completely hidden before any external costume was put on me. This transformation was a terrible shock to my ego, and I vaguely wondered if I would ever be able to get back to looking and feeling like a man. Since the false breasts, the so-snug waist-cinch, and the tight elastic panty-brief were all flesh-colored, it took more than a casual glance to know that the visible girlish contours were not for real.
At first I did not understand their purpose when my tormentors brought out what I was to wear for outer wear clothes for the night. They were two identical long satin nightgowns in a natural skin tone of pink. They had me put on the first one after turning it inside out so that the sleek sensuous surface was against my skin, seeming to caress me wherever it touched me. The second nightgown was put on me normally right side out, so that the shiny glistening exciting surface was outside to shimmer in the light and please the hands that touched it.
Like all form-fitting garments of this sort, the material was cut on the bias, so that when I was standing upright the diagonal pull of the fabric made it cling closely to every curve it adorned. It outlined every lush detail of my falsely feminine figure with lurid and exciting accuracy, accentuating my synthetic carnal appeal.
High-heeled mules of matching pink satin, with feathery pompoms at each instep were provided for my feet, completing the picture of a glamorous and intentionally seductive woman who eagerly sought carnal attention. Because my so-called shoes were backless, I had extreme difficulty walking. I had to stand straight and arch my back. This thrust my breasts and buttocks into exaggerated prominence, and made me walk with a teasingly feminine twitch and curve of my hips.
Again I was forced to parade around the big room, flaunting my assumed femininity for the _ sadistic entertainment of my captors. They felt me all over, caressing the sleek satin of my outer nightgown, at the same time stimulating my flesh with the smooth clinging inner satin surface. Their lewd comments on my appearance and the potentialities for the uses of my transformed body added immensely to my shame and I was continually blushing, adding to my virginal girlish appearance under the circumstances.
The worst shock came when I had to study carefully my reflection in the big mirror. Looking and posing seductively before it I saw my boldly thrusting breasts outlined in lush female curves. My waist was nipped in to emphasize the exciting curves of bosom above and flaring hips below. The length and taut curves of my legs were exaggerated by the high heels of my mules and this exotic footwear forced me to use hip-slung strides that seemed to beg for visual and manual caresses from an appreciative loving male.
Now they made me feel myself with gentle tingling sweeping fingers, tracing my revealed conformations over the sleek satin that thrilled my hands on the outer surfaces and my legs and body with its inner gliding smoothness. As I watched and performed these sensuous activities I began to experience a bizarre dual ambivalent sensation all through me. As a normal heterosexual male I was becoming excited by watching and intimately caressing a seductive nubile and exotically clad female. The sensations of fondling and wantonly petting such a thrilling and passively accepting girl was extremely exciting to my masculine body and soul.
But I was also the girl I was teasing and thrilling with my hands. The tender stimulating touches sent waves of thrilling sensations coursing through my flesh as the sleek shiny satin on the inside caressed and aroused me carnally. I felt strange swellings and urges in my loins, and I knew that this bizarre situation was really getting to me. I was falling wildly and rewardingly in love. The male of my true self was intrigued and infatuated and sexually excited by the girl I was being forced into portraying with such vivid and total accuracy.
I tried to ignore these unwanted feelings and emotions. I tried to bring my sane and rational mind to bear on the situation, telling myself that it was all a terrible hoax being perpetrated on me. It was successful only because I was letting it be so, thrusting away my sensual urges and desires as well as I could, I studied my appearance in the big mirror. I hunted for disillusioning items in my appearance which would help me throw off this aura of bizarre self-love that was confusing my emotions. I studied myself carefully in the mirror, letting my questing hands confirm what my eyes saw.
Medium-long blonde hair was coiffed neatly and attractively on my head, revealing button earrings that pinched my lobes sharply to remind me of my transvestite slavery. Deftly applied cosmetics gave my hairless face a look of sultry seductive allure that would entice any man. Powdered shoulders and arms exposed by my nightgown gave no hint of my basic maleness, for the depilatory cream had completely removed all traces of masculine body hair. The chain slave-bracelets on my wrists were a normal type of feminine jewelry.
From neck to feet I was covered by the sleek clinging satin of the flesh-pink nightgown, glued-on rubber falsies jutted out proudly against the shimmering fabric and seemed to have a thrilling life of their own as I posed and moved in front of the mirror. Their glowing prominence was emphasized by the invisible flesh-colored waist-cinch which gave my revealed form a beautiful and feminine contour. Under this stringent compression my hips swelled out gloriously within the lustrous outlining caress of the sensuous satin. The crampingly tight panty-brief compressed my male genitals into invisibility of color and mass between my thighs, giving no slightest hint of the truth that cringed within.
The long tapering curves of my legs were clearly visible within the clinging bias-cut skirt of the glamorous gown, a Classically seductive sight on any girl who was garbed to greet her lover in bed. There my feet peeked out from beneath the flowing hem of my scintillating long gown, their matching satin finish, their slender high heels, and the dainty fluffy pompoms over my toes, all added together to make me aé perfect specimens of an intentionally seductive and eagerly willing sensual girl.
Now that I was prepared for the night in the matter of glamorous attire, I was as signed the job of helping Mary and Doris get ready for bed. Knowing that I was totally helpless in their power, they delighted in teasing and tempting me as much as possible. Piece by piece I divested them of their clothing which they had worn to the dance, and then helped them with every detail of putting on the shortie baby doll pajamas which they would wear for sleeping.
A couple of other girls came in to see my humiliation of dress and obedience, and my captors delighted in showing off to the newcomers my complete enslavement and loss of any manly prerogative in carnal aggression. Then one of the girls asked casually if I was completely tamed and docile, and could be made to do anything that was demanded of me, Doris assured her that I would be eager to perform any task assigned me in the hope that this would lead to my release from transvestite slavery soon.
Betty thought this over for a moment and then asked if she could borrow me for a while after Mary and Doris were through with me for the night. She promised not to keep me too long, nor to ruin my deliciously feminine costume in any way, but she had some ideas for fun where I might be able to help out most thrillingly.
A few minutes later I was taken by Betty to her room on the same floor of the dormitory. She locked the door behind us and then walked around me, studying every aspect of my transvestite appearance. I was studying her, too, for I was worried as to what type of service she wanted from me. She was about my size, and wearing a set of dark navy-blue pajamas of a rather severe and simple material and design, far from the blatant femininity of my costume.
Now she approached me and began Kissing me passionately, while her hands flowed possessively all over my satin-clad body. Her caresses concentrated on the emotionally significant areas of my transformed figure, and soon she was whispering tensely, “Kiss me, Joannie. Hold me tight and fondle me lovingly. You’re the most beautiful and exciting girl I’ve ever met, and the instant I saw you in that gorgeous lovely nightgown, I Knew I had to have you. Love me, Joannie. Make me flaming hot with your passionate caresses.”
I knew I had to obey, even though I knew that, as a male, there was no chance for me to get any reward from this bizarre encounter. Soon we were on the bed together, and I learned what heated intimate services she demanded from me. It was as Joannie, the exotically sensual girl that I appealed to her deviant emotions. As a man I could mean less than nothing to her.
The shame of the duties I was forced to perform for her keeps me from itemizing them. Without being specific, I can say that by the time I was allowed to leave her an hour or so later, I had been forced to provide every possible carnal stimulation that one girl can give another.And all this with no chance for any relief or pleasure for my own desires. She did not injure me, or even mess up my ultra-feminine costume, but my hands and mouth were kept imaginatively busy under her direction providing optimal rewards for her.
When I got back to Mary and Doris’ big room, I was greeted with derisive snickers and gloating taunts. They evidently knew of Betty’s tendencies, and they asked me what Lesbian duties I had been required to provide. However I was so upset by this ultimate denial of my fundamental young masculinity that I could not talk about it. I was a male and I knew it, but I hart been used as a girl, by a girl, and that was too much for any fellow to have to endure.
I slept the few remaining hours of the night between Mary and Doris in their big bed. Sandwiched between two attractive and scantily clad girls, I was their helpless, passive, impotent prisoner. My body kept responding with rigid, painfully restricted yearnings, but total frustration and futility were my only rewards from my tormentors. The double-layered satin that encased my body Kept teasing me with its slinky stimulation both inside and out, and by morning I was nearly crazy with desire from the bizarre transvestite role that had been forced on me.
In the morning I awoke after a night plagued by nightmares of having to live out the rest of my life cladina wide-skirted ballet-dancers tutu and wearing toe-dancing slippers laced on my feet. As I assisted Mary and Doris to dress for the day, I learned that we were to have another tennis-match, but this time it would be different from the one yesterday when I had beaten Mary in the singles finals-match. Today, Sunday, the two of them as partners experienced at playing together, would be pitted against me alone. And as I was to discover later, the exaggeratedly feminine tennis outfit I was to wear would further limit me ina most painful and humiliating manner.
While they watched with taunting attention and critical remarks, I had to strip off the two satin nightgowns which had teased me all night. Then I had to drag off the tiny tight elasticized panty-brief which had been crushing my male equipment into docile impotence for so long. Wearing only the very snug waist-cinch and the rubber breasts glued onto my chest, I had to stand there in hairless nudity while they carefully inspected my body with eyes and hands, and planned the details of my newest masquerade.
First they clad the upper part of my body with a dainty white blouse. It had cap sleeves to cover my shoulders and the top of my upper arms, and it buttoned down the back. But the most emasculating feminine part was that it had several rows of filmy fluffy ruffles horizontally across my chest at the level of the foam rubber falsies. This emphasized and exaggerated that part of my transvestized form in an area which was already more than adequately prominent for any girl, and much too voluminous to suit my wishes.
Then, to my alarm and surprise, they put a small pillow-case over my head, effectively blinding me to what they would be doing next. Then I was ordered to put my hands on top of my head and keep them there, so that I could not interfere in any way with what was about to happen to me.
A noose of strong cord was slipped around the end of my male member, as they had done yesterday when I had worn the short-skirted cheer-leaders costume and been taken back to our high school. But this time, instead of being dragged backward between my buttocks, the cord was drawn upward onto my hairless belly and securely fastened to the front of my strangling waist-cinch. Immediately the strain was uncomfortable, and I knew that playing active tennis while wearing this taut genital halter would be a most unpleasant experience.
Next I felt them pulling what felt like a pair of shorts up my legs after I had been made to step into them. These shorts felt extremely brief, almost like hot-pants, in that the legs gripped my thighs snugly right where my thighs joined my body. The garment was pulled up very tightly so that the firm crotch pressed much too powerfully between and against my imprisoned masculinity. And the waistband of the shorts seemed high, being broad enough to cover and conceal my flesh-colored waist-cinch. The material seemed firm and unyielding, like denim, where it clasped my hips and buttocks, outlining and accentuating my unnatural curves there.
Now the pillow-case was removed from over my head, and I had to put dainty white angora socks on my feet, followed by white sneakers which had gay colored pompoms as tassels on the ends of the laces. As I looked at myself now in the big mirror, I seemed a typical cute attractive girl clad in a costume appropriate for tennis. The tassels bounced and tossed with each step, adding to my girlish appearance, but I could see nothing odd about the shorts, and I wondered why it had been necessary to blindfold me while they were put on me. They were very short shorts, the legs forming a straight line across the extreme upper limits of my thighs, and the crotch cutting cruelly into my groin while my hips and buttocks were tightly encased, but aside from that, they seemed normal enough.
As I began to move around I realized that these shorts would not be too uncomfortable to wear if I stood still, but when I moved around, as I would have to do playing tennis, the stimulation in my crotch would be both exciting and painful. With each step my genitals were rubbed and squeezed by the movement of the firm material from my flexing thighs. I might look typical and attractive In my snug white shorts and my frilled white blouse, but the shorts were a teasing-torment garment when I was active.
As I was led to a nearby court on the campus, we were joined by Butch, whom I had hoped never to see again. He greeted Mary and Doris courteously, with less fear and resentment than he had shown before. Discovering that I was a fellow, not a girl, and finding that I had to do whatever these girls demanded, evidently made him feel less antagonistic toward them and more pleased with me.
With Butch watching, carefully scrutinizing my appearance and every move, we started playing tennis, with Mary and Doris playing partners against me alone. I had had trouble beating Mary in singles yesterday, and with a partner she began giving me a rough time. They ran me up and back, and right and left chasing the ball, and with each step I felt the stroking and grinding as my shorts rubbed and compressed my imprisoned manhood.
The sensations in my loins alternated between painful pressure and thrilling stimulation. I found it difficult to keep my mind on the game I was playing, because I was continuously reminded of how feminine my whole appearance was, in those tasseled sneakers, the angora socks, the tight, high-waisted shorts, and the frilly ruffled white blouse.
Another thing that kept bothering my mind was wondering what Butch’s presence here this morning really meant. Did my cruel captors intend to turn me over to him so he could satisfy his deviant carnal desires on me? Would I be allowed to resist his unwanted advances, or would they make me become a partner to such horrible actions? And suppose I did become his unwilling victim, just what would I have to do? Or what would be done to me?
While all these thoughts and sensations were whirling through my mind and tormenting my body, the tennis game seemed to be going on forever. I was being badly defeated, but they kept urging me on to play harder, knowlng how I was suffering in body and soul with every passing second. Fleetingly I remembered how, the night before, when wearing the convincing masquerade of the satin nightgown over the totally disguising underwear, I had experienced bizarre feelings of my masculine self falling in love and feeling carnal desire for the feminine Image which I had been made to represent. Was I really becoming emotionally involved so I wanted to dress up like a sexy girl? Where would it end?
My emotional turmoil, combined with my physical exhaustion from playing tennis so long under these terrible conditions, had me completely confused. I seemed to hurt all over, and not know what I really wanted. Maybe it would even be worthwhile to stop fighting against my fate, and just relax and allow myself to be feminized. I had had almost no sleep in over twenty-four hours, I had been very active physically most of that time, and I had endured unbearable emotional strains continuously since noontime yesterday. Fear, shame, and pain were about to overwhelm me, and the only thrilling and rewarding time I had experienced was when I had seen and caressed myself in front of the big mirror last night while I was wearing that ultra-feminine sexy satin nightgown. To feel eood again would be worth almost any sacrifice, I knew.
When at last they allowed me to stop, Butch came out onto the court to compliment me and to help me to a bench to rest. He put an arm protectively around me, as any felow might around a tired girl to show his affection. But he knew from evidence his eyes and hands had given him, that I was not a girl. And before we got to the bench, his hand had slipped downward in back and was tenderly clasping and kneading one of my buttocks within the tight white shorts. There could be no doubt that he still had strong carnal interests in me, and wished to do something about it.
Now that my flaunted lush femininity no longer turned him off emotionally, Butch went out of his way to be nice to me. He kept complimenting me on how cute I looked, how well I played tennis, and how well I had danced last night. He kept staring at the slight bump in the front of my snug shorts, and his hands kept fondling my thighs and buttocks although I kept trying to brush his hands away and avoid his caresses. He kept glancing worrledly at Mary and Doris, to make sure that he still had their permission to continue his seduction. Any uninformed witness to this scene would have thought it was a fellow being very attentive to his beloved but shy girl-friend.
Under orders from the girls, we soon were strolling back to the dormitory, with Butch lovingly close beside me, and Mary and Doris right behind us, giggling and whispering together. I was so tired and so mixed-up in my emotions that I was almost willing to go along with whatever my captors demanded without further protest. Maybe we could all work out a compromise of some sort that would satisfy everyone without subjecting me to carnal rape by Butch.
Back in the room the girls announced that I had to put on a skirt and jacket over my abbreviated athletic costume of shorts and blouse. The skirt was knee length and flaring, made of brilliant scarlet denim. It fastened around my cinched waist with a broad heavy leather belt that was buckled in the back. The jacket was short, stopping above my waist in back, and hanging open in front to display my bulging rubber breasts with their exaggerating ruffles of the blouse. I noticed that the skirt had a wide sewn hem at the bottom, with a sort of rope, like a purse-string, hanging out at the back.
Now my tasseled sneakers were replaced with the knee-high leather boots that I had worn previously with the cheer-leader costume. These heels were so high that I was standing almost on tip-toe, and was very unsteady in my walking and balance. Again I was ordered to parade around to show off my newest transvestite masquerade, and to view myself critically in the big mirror. To my relief I found that it was the most nearly normal and the least revealing of the many feminine outfits I had worn.
Now Doris asked Butch if he still found me a very attractive girl whom he would lke to know more intimately. After a significant pause Butch replied that he found me excitingly attractive, and he certainly would like to get to know me much better in several ways.
Doris then said she would like to demonstrate to Butch several special details of my present costume which he might find useful and interesting for his purposes. She pointed out that because of my stilt-like heels I was very unsteady on my feet. Then, ordering me not to resist, she bent down and quickly pulled my flaring skirt up around my body, till the hem was at the level of my neck. Then with a quick strong yank on the rope I had noticed at the hem, she tightened the hem of the skirt snugly around my neck. This rendered my hands and arms completely useless, enfolding them tightly against my body inside the enveloping fabric of the skirt.
This was alarming in its surprise, but not too shameful, for from my waist down I was still covered by the white shorts I had worn for tennis. Now I had to back toward the mirror and bend way forward, so that I could watch between my spread legs while she showed Butch the final oddity of my costume.
As I watched from my upside-down pose I saw my bottom sticking out, clad in the brief white shorts. Then Doris grabbed a zipper up near the waistband in back and began to pull it slowly down. First the tops of my buttocks were exposed, but as the zipper continued, those tensed mounds separated from the strain of my pose. And still the zipper continued downward.
When it had opened nearly to my navel in front, all my hairless male equipment was fully exposed, and Butch was gasping with delight.
With scissors Doris cut the noosed cord which had been holding my member up to the waist-cinch in front, leaving everything hanging normally. Without another word, Doris quickly pulled the zipper back around my crotch, closing the gap in the shorts which now again looked normal. Then she had me stand erect and loosened the knot which held the hem of my skirt up around my neck, so effectively imprisoning my hands.
“Now Mary and Jane going to leave you, Butch, and you, Joannie, alone. We will be in the bathroom watching what happens between you two,” said Doris with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “When you two have amused us enough by putting on a wild and entertaining show for our benefit, we’ll set you both free. You will be allowed to go back to your normal regular lives, without fear of any more trouble from US in any way. So, get the show going, kids.”
The End
