I've actually been thinking a lot this last few weeks. I'd always wanted this blog to be a non-commercial place where transvestites, cross dressers - and submissives like myself could meet and swap ideas and thoughts without a bunch of interfering garbage.
The truth is though? I'm pretty old to begin with. I KNOW that this doesn't necessarily mean a damn thing - but I've been taking medications for about four years now that almost castrate me totally - so that I don't have any sexual urges whatsoever - so in that case, I really don't belong here. I can say that I remember - but that's not quite the same thing.
I'm also still 100 percent behind anything that takes away from our stupid feelings of 'guilt' because we're not 'normal'.
But I'm running out of things to say and the thought of writing something for this blog every Sunday is getting beyond me. Don't necessarily want to quit completely - but decidedly want to back off. I've been getting great help from Belinda, Carrie, Kammi, and Monica, for which I thank them very much. I've also got Rosie's permission to add her here as an approved author - and I KNOW that you'd like him / her. Just buggered if I can remember how to do it! (Aha! Just found it!)
I'll throw in an old story of mine - but a thought first. Any of you ever read Thorne Smith? He's a Yankee author who was very popular back around the 30's I think. Never quite came out - but was the closest thing to it as could be then. He wrote some books that were made into movies. "I Married a Witch": "Turnabout" and the 'Topper' series. I used to laugh like hell at them. Old fashioned probably - but might be worth a look at.
Here's an old story of mine. One of my very first. It had a different title then - just can't remember what it was.
Hope that you enjoy it. - just don't expect me back for a few weeks.
Hugs to all of you.
The truth is though? I'm pretty old to begin with. I KNOW that this doesn't necessarily mean a damn thing - but I've been taking medications for about four years now that almost castrate me totally - so that I don't have any sexual urges whatsoever - so in that case, I really don't belong here. I can say that I remember - but that's not quite the same thing.
I'm also still 100 percent behind anything that takes away from our stupid feelings of 'guilt' because we're not 'normal'.
But I'm running out of things to say and the thought of writing something for this blog every Sunday is getting beyond me. Don't necessarily want to quit completely - but decidedly want to back off. I've been getting great help from Belinda, Carrie, Kammi, and Monica, for which I thank them very much. I've also got Rosie's permission to add her here as an approved author - and I KNOW that you'd like him / her. Just buggered if I can remember how to do it! (Aha! Just found it!)
I'll throw in an old story of mine - but a thought first. Any of you ever read Thorne Smith? He's a Yankee author who was very popular back around the 30's I think. Never quite came out - but was the closest thing to it as could be then. He wrote some books that were made into movies. "I Married a Witch": "Turnabout" and the 'Topper' series. I used to laugh like hell at them. Old fashioned probably - but might be worth a look at.
Here's an old story of mine. One of my very first. It had a different title then - just can't remember what it was.
Hope that you enjoy it. - just don't expect me back for a few weeks.
Hugs to all of you.
NINETY THOUSAND BUCKS
I was so close. I had
$82,675.49.
Naturally, I had stolen it --
there was no way I had come by it honestly - but, in some ways I had earned
it. Humiliation, regardless of whether
you like it or not, can make a lot of withdrawals on your ego bank.
I first met Pat and Dorothy
when they came into the piano bar, one night that I was filling in for Edna,
the regular pianist. I'm not in her
league as a piano player, the owners knew it, I knew it - but they were willing
to pay me, and it was a way of making a buck.
Also, I needed all the bucks I could get as I hadn't had a winner in
quite some time, and my bookie friends were starting to make some very
unpleasant noises.
I had seeded the tip glass
with a couple of dollars, but was barely getting by. A loudmouth broad kept stretching my memory
with old tunes. I don't mind that, but she kept calling out "Hey Edna give
us ...such and such a tune". In
loud asides to her friends she'd confide
"Edna's not up to her usual standard tonight". I felt like
slapping her one, but the way the manager and everyone else was kissing her
ass, I knew that it would probably be my last gig in that place if I did.
She finally left, but did pay
her way, lurching over to me and stuffing a fifty down the front of my
shirt "Thanks honey" she gurgled
"But try and look prettier next time".
What can you do? I smiled a big smile and said a not-very
sincere "Thanks", then settled down to close out a quiet
evening. About then, I noticed Pat for
the first time - a small, burnished red head, with a money-glow about her. Her companion, Dorothy, as it turned out, was
gorgeous, very feminine and beautifully dressed.
Pat hardly talked to her,
however, her attention on me.
I was flattered at first, but
gradually got very uneasy. There was something predatory about her, and I
started making some really bad errors on the keyboard. I finally finished the set, jumped off of the
stool, and headed outside for a smoke.
When I got back, they were the only two customers left, so it was real
difficult to ignore them, especially as they'd moved right up close to the
piano. Dorothy started yakking to me,
and she was hard to avoid. Friendly,
chatty, and didn't seem to notice my mistakes.
Gradually, I started relaxing.
They invited me to join them
for a drink when I finished. I was still nervous of Pat, but accepted. I hadn't
been sitting two minutes when she transfixed me with an enigmatic smile "Back home in Texas," she drawled "A woman calls a man Edna
better look out for her life. How much
she give you to make up for it?"
I smiled weakly. "Go's
with the job, I'm afraid. Fifty bucks."
"Must be a great
job." she said softly "You get told to pretty yourself up, and
get called by a woman's name for fifty bucks. Suppose I give you a hundred,
would you put a dress on?"
Dorothy spoke up "Oh, c'mon Pat, you're making the poor
guy blush. We're not all as rich as you. Fifty bucks means something to a lot
of people, you know".
Pat spoke to her, out of the
corner of her mouth. "I'm serious. I'm not used to men like
this." She turned her attention
back to me. "I'm very rich. Are you
married?"
I looked at her in
astonishment, then tried to laugh it off. "No. Don't know anyone crazy
enough."
"I'm not crazy" she
said calmly "but, for reasons of my own, I want to get married. You're available, and look interesting, so
let's do it".
There's no sense in going
into details. I was like a rabbit in front of a snake. She's small and slightly
built, but carries herself with the confidence of a Mike Tyson. Within three weeks, I was ensconced as her
husband in her luxury condo. All of a sudden, I was in the money.
At least, that was the way it
seemed. She made no attempt to keep her
business conversations private. What I
heard made me blink a couple of times.
This woman was rich - VERY.
Properties spread all over the United States. A stock portfolio that sounded as if it was
more than a couple of million, more
jewelry than she could wear. I soon found that I had access to a lot of dough,
but only for housekeeping expenses and the like. According to her, she didn't agree with the
concept of having servants - except, of course, her husband. Quickly, I found myself in the position of
being totally subservient to her - a house husband.
She didn't, however, give me
even that honorific for long. After a period of doing the dishes and cooking
the meals, I accumulated more chores - like hand-washing (and giving a 'light'
touch-up with an iron) to her undies. At
her urging, Dorothy coached me in some of the finer points of sewing repairs -
and somehow it just seemed natural for her to start teaching me how to crochet.
In bed, all activities were
initiated by Pat. She started to refer
to me, laughingly, as her "squaw man", that became "squaw"
in a fairly short time. She had a manicurist, Lisa, come up every week to do
her nails. Then one time Pat bitched that my fingernails had snagged one of her
favorite blouses while I was ironing it. From that point on, I became one of
Lisa's regulars too. I didn't mind too much, it was a break in the housework. Lisa wasn't too used to doing men's nails
though and, after a while, my hands started taking on a rather feminine
appearance. I was also sure that the 'clear' varnish she said she was putting
on had more than a touch of pink in it, but thought better of commenting on
that..
I had a terrible shock one
day. In an apartment walkway I saw two of the bookies I had been dodging. Luckily, they didn't see me. If they had, I
could have suffered a couple of broken legs.
It dawned on me that they probably
lived there, and that it wasn't too smart for me to wander around the
complex. I became even more of a stay-at-home. About this time, I started
stealing from the housekeeping. I wasn't too proud of myself, but there was
tons of money around and Pat didn't appear to take too much notice. I snuck out
one day and set up a personal account at a local bank. At first, I just stole with no objective in
mind. As I saw the balance rise,
however, it dawned on me that I could pay off my debts, run away from Pat, and
start a new life. All I needed was $90,000.
Months went by and, as I got
closer and closer to this amount, I guess that I got carried away with myself.
Keep in mind that apart from
Pat and Lisa, the only person I saw on a regular basis was Dorothy. She was, and is, one of the most feminine people
that I have ever met. Constantly well groomed, a charming self-effacing
personality, and totally immersed in fashion and make-up.
One time Pat took me over to
her flat to help clean it for a party she was throwing and I happened to see
the fantastic quantity of clothes hanging in her closets. I was also astounded at the obvious
quality. She had to have a fortune
hanging there I thought. She and I
gradually became good friends over this period.
Believe it or not, I had
never came close to guessing the real relationship between the two of them. It
never dawned on me then, when I was making comments about Dorothy's feminine
traits or how nice she was, that Pat could have read meanings into what I said
that didn't exist.
Then I got the new bank
balance - eighty two thousand and
change. A month at the most, and I was gone. I guess that I started feeling
macho, or something. That day, I made a
mild pass at Dorothy - put my arm around her shoulder and tried to kiss her.
To tell the truth, I had
never been that aggressive as far as women were concerned. In fact, with Pat I
had become totally submissive in our lovemaking. It had actually got to the
stage that I was given a series of girls names while she was on top of me -
Pamela, Geraldine, Christine, were some of her favorites. Just the month before, I had been introduced
to the joys of wearing baby dolls - fluffy, frilly, beribboned ones.
"If you're gonna act
like pussy in bed, you may as well dress the part." was Pat's
reasoning. "These'll maybe remind you
of how you're not supposed to act. When
you begin to behave like a man, maybe I'll let you dress like one."
Needless to say, this
progression into feminine nightwear and more passive behaviour in my
relationship with her did little to increase either my aggressiveness or
masculinity.
Maybe with Dorothy, her
obvious femininity - and my increasing acceleration into the same state, jolted
my remaining ego into, at least, a pretence that I still thought of myself as a
man.
She pulled back from me, and
sort of shook her head.
"What are you
doing?" She asked, with a sort of
bewildered expression on her face.
Red faced at the rebuff, I
tried to talk myself out of it.
"Well... You really are a most attractive woman.."
"I didn't know you liked
women." She said.
It was my turn to be
puzzled. "Well.. I married Pat,
didn't I?"
She put her hand to her
mouth, giggled. "You better not let
her hear you say that..." Then a
dismayed expression crossed her face.
"Oooh! I'm sorry! I thought..." Her voice tailed off.
"Thought
what?" I asked, astounded by the
way the conversation was going. What are
saying? What are you talking
about?"
She sighed. "I'm sorry - but I don't really think of
you as Pat's husband.." She sighed
again. "More like her.. her.. wife."
My mouth dropped open, and
she hurriedly started talking again.
"Well, you're so sweet - and nice - and you do the things that
wives do for their husbands - look after the house - and you're friends with
me, for goodness sake .. I sort of look on you as my ...my.."
"Oh God!" I wailed.
"You think of me as your GIRLFRIEND?"
She looked down at her
feet. Nodded. "I'm sorry. Really sorry.
But Pat talks about you as if you were a girl - calls you by girl's names
sometimes. She's even had me buying
nighties for you. Do you like them? I've been dying to ask." She looked up at me again. Shrugged.
"Can you blame me for thinking you're .. kinda girlish?"
Totally destroyed by these
revelations, I mumbled something. I
truthfully don't remember very much of what followed, except that she put her
arm around me and comforted me. When she
left, we were almost back to a normal footing.
The following day, Lisa
appeared out of the blue. Pat wasn't there but I didn't mind - gave me a chance
for a little chat. Lisa seemed more pre-occupied than usual while
working on my manicure , but I didn't pay any attention until she released the
hand she'd been working on. I saw the false nails, long and scarlet, that now
graced my hand. "What.. what are you doing?" I stuttered.
"What Pat told
me." she answered, picking up my
other hand. "It's a new shade 'Crimson Tide'. She wants you to wear it for
tonight."
"What's
tonight?" I asked, too stunned to
pull my hand away.
"Don't know." she answered laconically. "After I
finish with you, you gotta read this."
touching an envelope that was sticking out of her smock pocket.
"You've made a mistake
" I laughed, reaching for it. She
put her hand over her pocket, and looked at me coolly. "Just settle down,
squaw. I'm going to finish your nails then, per Pat's instructions I've to make
sure that you put some Chanel #5 on your wrists and behind your ears. Then you
get to read it."
I could only look at her in
astonishment. She was too large for me to argue with. Some thirty minutes later
she left me, scarlet nailed, and smelling discreetly of that
well-known perfume. She had stood by, with a slight grin, watching me touch the
perfume behind my ears and circle my wrists the way I'd seen Dorothy apply
perfume. She blew me a mocking kiss as
she left.
I opened the envelope.
Squaw:
You are in shit up to your ears. You have two options:
1. Run away, and make sure I never find you.
2. Go to the back bedroom. There are clothes on the bed that I want
you to wear.
Put all of these clothes on.
If you have any sense, you'll pick option number 2. I'll be home at seven thirty, with Dorothy. I want you to
answer the door when I ring. Plan to have dinner ready for eight-thirty.
I think I knew what awaited
me in that spare room, but pretended to consider running away. That was a
totally ludicrous concept though. I had practically no cash on hand, and
couldn't see how get to the safety deposit box for my bank book - not with my
nails being the way they were. Even if I
could get rid of the nail polish, I knew I was going to have a helluva job
disguising the perfume. I looked at the
clock – no way!
In the bedroom, it turned out
to be even worse than I could possibly have imagined. A puffy, frilly, white organdy dress, multi layered,
laid on the bed. On one side of it lay a
full set of shocking pink satin lingerie, on the other, a frilled apron. A pair of white pumps were at the bottom of
the bed with a pair of nylons. 'No
way' I thought. 'No way I'm gonna put
that on!' But then I thought I'd better
reconsider. I mean, what else was
there? Maybe it wouldn't be too
bad? I needed time desperately.
I think there was a sense of
relief as well. All of the snide remarks and innuendo were over. Everything was
out in the open. Pat had now made it perfectly clear what she thought I
was. Along with the relief was a curious
feeling of excitement. I thought I might
have a problem with the underwear but,
after stripping down to the nude, slipped into the satin lingerie with a feeling
of ease, liking the way the fabric clung to my body as I did so.
Fastening the dress at the
back was a little more difficult, but I finally made it. The shoes were a
perfect fit, and not high enough in the heel to give me any great difficulty in
walking. There wasn't any indication that I had to use the lipstick or the dark
wig on the dresser, but I did. The wig had a pretty pink bow tied in to it,
that matched the frilly apron that I put on over my dress. In an almost
dream-like state I saw the almost-pretty girl in the mirror.
In the same state, I went
into the kitchen and threw a salad together with a side buffet of cold
cuts. Just in time.
I answered the doorbell about
three minutes later. Pat and Dorothy came in. Both were carrying large parcels
which they carried through to the bedroom, then immediately returned to the
dining room.
From the tone of Pat's note I
wasn't sure as to how she was going to act.
She was kinda cold, but not overly threatening. Nodded her head approvingly at my appearance.
When I helped Dorothy take
her coat off, I discovered that she was wearing an outfit identical to mine.
She grinned. "Like gorgeous twins -
right?"
I was flattered at her
compliment and afterwards, to tell the truth, quite enjoyed the meal. Now that I had been firmly moved to the
feminine role, Pat seemed genuinely nicer to me. I did manage to get a chance to talk to
Dorothy while we were doing the clearing up, as Pat had gone through to the
bedroom.
"I'm sorry" she whispered. "Maybe I should have known, but I really
didn't think that Pat would take it this way."
"Take what?" I whispered back. Then it struck me. "Did you tell her about me trying to
... Oh god! Was she mad at me?"
"I think so" Dorothy replied. "Told you. She thinks of you as her wife. Not only were you unfaithful to her - but you
tried to get off with her girlfriend - me.
She thought she was getting rid of your male tendencies, now she's not
so sure."
"So that's the reason
for making me wear this dress?" I
asked. "Does she have anything else
in mind?"
She grimaced, and started to
say something, but Pat had returned, and called me to take her a drink and we
never had a chance to finish the conversation.
Pat had been surprisingly
pleasant, but finally made her intentions known to me after everything had been
cleared away.
"You seem to have got
the idea that you were some kind of a man. Now, I've known better ever since we
met and I think I've been proven right tonight - there are not a lot of men
waltzing around in pretty dresses like the one you've got on. The big question
for me though isn't how much of a man you are. I'm really curious to find out
just how much of a woman you are".
I looked at her, puzzled.
"Well," she said.
"I want you to listen, real close.
You're always on about how feminine Dorothy is. I've come to think that
she's more masculine than you, and I've got a little contest in mind to prove
it. Now, Priscilla, - that'll be your
name for the contest. You'll go into our bedroom with Dorothy and you can both
change into the contest uniforms I've laid out for you there. As I'm going to be photographing this event
and need a little color difference, I'd like Dorothy in blue and you in pink -
you don't mind, do you? When you get
back, I'll explain the contest rules and so on.
O.k?"
She wasn't really asking for
my opinion, so I just nodded, wondering if the 'uniform' was going to be more
masculine than my dress. A surprise was
in store once Dorothy and I got there. I had thought the organdy dress was
feminine, but it was like blue jeans compared to the contest 'uniforms,' both
identical except for the color.
Basically, each was comprised
of a satin harem set of lacy bra and baggy pantaloons that cuffed at the
ankles. Over that went something like a multi-layered chiffon mini-dress. Over
that went another multi-layer peignoir type coat that fastened with wide satin
ties at the neck and waistlines as well as the wrists, forearms and
biceps. Dorothy helped me tie all the
ribbons into big extravagant bows, then I helped her with hers. I tried to pump her about the contest, but
she just giggled, and wouldn't say anything about it.
Returning to the other
bedroom where Pat had set up the cameras, I felt like that I was moving in a
sensuous cloud of sweet smelling fabric. Dorothy linked her arm with mine, so that we
made our entrance in swirling chiffon. I
noticed that Pat had set up some camcorders and they were all running. At first I was still in the dream state that
I'd been in all night but, as Pat explained the rules of the contest, horror
started entering the scenario.
The rules were quite simple.
I was either going to make love to Dorothy (man to woman, me on top) or she was
going to make love to me (man to woman, her on top). The winner would be the
first one to 'penetrate' the other. My puzzled look was answered by Pat
ceremonially presenting Dorothy with a kind of strap-on penis.
Pat explained. "Dorothy's never played the man at all,
so you have a little advantage there - just a little, since you haven't been playing
it much recently yourself - but you'll have some. We'll be having three minute rounds, with
each of you wrestling to overcome the other.
You say that she's too feminine so, in a fight you might have the
advantage there as well. There will be
three minute breaks so that you girls can get your breath back and repair your
make-up. Before the start of each round, I'll tell you who's ahead on points so
that you know where you stand. Not that
points make much difference as it's a fight to the finish. Now, Priscilla, it's obvious that the deck's
stacked in your favor. I've balanced
that by giving Dorothy a special inducement, so you might have a real struggle
to defend your honor. O.K. Girls, I want
you to start the fight by giving each other a kiss. Any questions before we start?
"What inducement do I
have?" I quavered.
"Silly!" Pat said, "You keep your cherry - and,
if you win easily, I might let you back into dressing like a man again. Understood?"
Her tone of voice left me no
option. I nodded.
"O.K girls, on your
marks and go! Come out kissing!"
Dorothy advanced on me, her
eyes laughing, her lips pouted for a kiss.
We met in the only available open space, and gave each other a girlish
peck.
She started after me
immediately, and I backed away.
"This is fun" she
tittered. "Come to Dorothy,
Priscilla".
I really wanted to escape,
but Pat was between me and the door so I had to close with her. Weakly, I
advanced and tried to push her away. Still giggling, she brushed my reaching
arms away, then got hold of my waist and forced me back on to the bed. I felt
so wrapped in fabric that I could hardly move.
I didn't expect her next move
- a strong kiss on the lips. There was something very erotic about two sets of
heavily lipsticked mouths meeting.
I felt an erection start in
my groin, and a feeling like a heavy lethargy come over me. I started to sink into the softness of her
embrace then, horrified at my own weakness, got enough strength to squirm out
from under her and took a couple of quick steps away. But she immediately came
after me again, now stalking me in an exaggerated fashion, arms wide apart with
hands well above her head, fingers spread widely - speaking out of the side of
her mouth to Pat "How'm I doing
judge?".
Pat answered her by pretending
she was talking into a microphone.
"Well folks, the
challenger doesn't lack confidence. From
the opening bell, she's been stalking her opponent. Cissy, who was the opening favorite seems to
be living up to her name, refusing to mix it up and backing away.
Maybe she hopes to tire Dorothy out- but somehow, I don't think.. Wait folks!, Dorothy's on the attack
again!"
Dorothy had rushed me, hands
still uplifted. I met her with my own
then found myself being forced back, down on to the bed again. "Please Dorothy.." I started, then
started to cry. Blinded by the tears, I
was too late to stop her from straddling me.
This time though, I did put up a better struggle, and managed to roll
her off me. As we thrashed around on the
bed, I could hear Pat's mocking commentary.
"Look at these two dolls
slug it out. Have you ever seen such a
titanic struggle? Who will win this epic
contest? Who will be the "man"
of the evening? Right now folks, I don't
think it's going to be Priscilla."
She paused: "Ding-ding
girls. End of round one."
Dorothy helped me up from the
bed, and then linked her arm through mine. Her tone was friendly
"Whew!.. that's warm
work, isn't it? Want a hand with your
lipstick? It's kinda messed up"
I shot an enquiring look at
Pat. She responded with a phony
commentary
"Howzabout that! The contender has offered to help her
opponent fix her makeup. Well, I'M the
judge, and I don't see anything wrong with it - so ok Priscilla, you can let her
help you."
So we went to the dressing
table together. She repaired my
lipstick, and I returned the favor by brushing her hair a little.
Pat interviewed us while we
were thus engaged.
"Well girls. It hasn't been that great a contest so
far. The contender's pretty well ahead
on points. Has definitely played the
more masculine
role here tonight. Any comments for the crowd Dorothy?"
Dorothy smiled shyly, but
followed Pat's lead. "I know that
Priscilla was the favorite to begin with, and I was kinda scared, but I got her
in a clinch there at the beginning of the round, and I definitely felt her
weaken. I got some real confidence now.
I just gotta keep pounding away".
Pat turned to me "Well Priscilla, you heard her. Do you think you can win this contest
now?. It looks as if she has all the
momentum. Can you get back into your
form, and pull this championship off?"
I couldn't answer. What Dorothy had said was true. She had kissed me and I'd started to
melt. If I couldn't stop her from
getting me like that again I was coming to the conclusion that I was done
for. Couldn't speak.
I heard Pat say loudly. "No comments from the favorite. Saving
her energy maybe. O.K. Girls. Ding ding - round two.
I tried to work up my
confidence by taking the initiative and grappling with Dorothy, but she reacted
quickly, surprising me again with her strength. Again I heard Pat's taunting
commentary as we thrashed around in a haze of gauzy fabrics. This time it was a more even contest, though
I could feel myself weakening every time she managed to brush my face or lips
with hers. As the round wore on though,
she continued to press and I found myself retreating before her onslaught
again. Constantly, I found myself on my
back, her on top, with it becoming more and more difficult for me to fend her
off.
One thing puzzled me. At
every opportunity as she straddled me, I felt a rather peculiar sensation
coming from various parts of my body.
Still struggling against her, I paid no attention at first, too
concerned about defeat at her hands to think about much else. Then I saw what had been going on. She had been busily engaged in untying the
proliferation of satin ribbon bows that bedecked my arms.
I didn't understand what she
was doing but had to smile a little to myself. What an indication of feminine
idiocy! Fighting a battle, and being so
concerned about your opponents appearance that your strategy was to make her
look bad. (With an internal shock, I realized that even in my own mind, I had
now started identifying myself as a 'she'- as evidenced by thinking of myself
as a 'her' in defining Barbara's opponent.)
But my grin widened. Surely she didn't really think that I was SO
feminine that I cared if some of my pretty ribbons were untied?
But, as the round went on, I
discovered what her strategy had been. Still thrashing around in a haze of
chiffon, silks and lace, I started to feel a decided loss of mobility. Then it
dawned on me. She had started retying
the ribbons, but with one major difference - she was tying the ends of different
ribbons together. I was now wriggling futilely inside my clothes more than
fighting her. The end of the round saved me for a little while.
I was now so enmeshed by the
ribbons to the extent that I could only move my arms enough to untie one or two
knots. Barbara leisurely tidied herself
up a little, applied some new makeup, then came over to me. This time, she
freshened my lipstick without asking. As
she finished she took my face in her hands and kissed me firmly on the mouth
again. Helplessly, I sank into the
firmness of her embrace.
Pat was yelling in the
background. " A major penalty here folks.
Dorothy just lost that round on that foul kiss." She came to stand beside us, Dorothy still
kissing me, and spoke in Dorothy's ear. " Will the loss of that round have
any effect on the outcome, challenger?"
Dorothy took her lips from
mine and pulled back to reply.
"Not a hope." she said, smiling.
Pat turned to me, grinning,
as I wiggled my arms in a futile fashion, to get free of the ribbons that bound
me. "You're starting to look like a
birthday present for Dorothy, all pretty and pink, and tied up in satin
bows. Do you think that she'll maybe
open you up this round? Catch the double
entendre folks? - Open her up?"
I looked at her, and I could
feel my eyes filling. Blindly, I continued
to pluck at the knots. I heard her
say. "Looks like the contender has
the favorite all psyched out and practically immobilized. That foul kiss obviously weakened Priscilla a
great deal, and she deserved to have the round awarded to her on that basis. The big question is - can she regain her
mobility and fighting spirit? Ding,
ding, round three!"
I hadn't managed to get all
of the knots untied, and Dorothy, now totally ignoring my weakening struggles
and mewling for mercy, just went right back to where she had been before the
end of the previous round, tying and tightening, tying and tightening, only in
a much more leisurely fashion. She even
started to untie some of the ribbons that were not exactly to her satisfaction
and re-tie them more to her liking. She
started holding a conversation with Pat, but interrupted it by kissing me
gently, on a regular basis. What
resistance I had started to show began to disappear entirely. I was soon
immobilized, flat on my back on top of the bed.
"Now lie still there!" She commanded me. Exhausted, I complied as she collected a
series of pillows and cushions and put them on the bed behind me. Then she pulled and tugged at me until I was
sitting semi-upright, supported by the pillows.
"Gonna make you real
pretty now Priscilla. Blush, and eye
shadow I think. Then I'll pluck your eyebrows a little. Mascara. You'll be gorgeous!"
Pat was standing beside us
again. "Well folks" she intoned
"don't see much chance of Priscilla recovering now - but you never
can tell, so we'll keep the contest in effect, though I think we'll just
dispense with the rounds now, as the ex-favorite has obviously been
immobilized. What d'you think,
Priscilla?"
"I don't think that
Priscilla's opinion counts for too much right now," Dorothy said briskly,
advancing on me, carrying small cosmetic jars and a white wand-like thing in
her hands.
"Isn't that right,
Priscilla? We've got to make you pretty,
don't we? And we don't have time for all of these interruptions, do we?"
I just looked at her
helplessly.
"Answer me,
please." She said firmly. "You want to be pretty for Dorothy now,
don't you?"
Shamefaced, I nodded.
"Say 'Yes please
Dorothy'" she chided.
"Yes please,
Dorothy" I responded.
Pat laughed softly. "Well, Dorothy. Doesn't look like too much is going to be
happening for a while, so I'll go and pour myself a drink, maybe watch a little
TV. Just make sure that Priscilla smiles
nicely into the cameras now and then - want her to see what a great time she's
having when she sees the video later on."
With that, she walked out of the room.
And Dorothy plucked my
eyebrows into fine, arched, semi-circles over my eyes. Next, true to her word, she applied various
types of eye make up, showing me my advancing levels in a hand mirror on a regular
basis. She also made sure that I "smiled prettily" for the cameras,
as Pat had requested.
She disappeared from my line
of sight for a little while, then re-appeared, wearing only a pair of blue
baby-doll pajamas. She walked in front
of me
a few times. "This outfit hides it pretty well, don't
you think?"
I didn't know what she was
talking about, until she flipped the front up, and I saw the bulge under her
panties. As she let them back down, Pat
came back into the room. "Moment of
truth coming up?"
Dorothy had a peculiar glint
in her eye when she nodded. "You
know, I never thought I'd like doing this - but I'm starting to see how it
feels to have .. power? I guess. I really think I'm getting turned ON!"
Then she lay down beside
me. Grinning widely, she placed one arm
under my neck, kissed me firmly, and started pulling me towards her. I slid
into her arms. Then, she started to caress me, just as a man would a
woman. My breasts, my tummy, my thighs. She kept asking me if I was her girl. I did try to resist her, but found it
impossible. My back started arching towards her in entreaty, and I verbally
agreed that she was my man, and would she please make love to me.
A few minutes later I felt
her hand at the fastening of my pants. I squirmed, but she held me tighter
until she had unfastened the waistband.
As she slowly worked them
down to my ankles, I tried to take solace in the fact that even though I was
defeated I still had the consolation of a healthy bank account. At the first opportunity I was going to
escape - I was close enough to my target now. While I was dreaming, Dorothy was
still at work. I started to feel the peignoir layers being pulled up over my
head. I thought she was going to remove
it altogether but she loosened some of the ties instead, then used them to tie
the hem above my head, so that I was effectively cocooned in layers and layers
of the material. Next, I felt my panties being worked down. I felt her pause,
then she slipped an arm under my thighs, and lifted them just clear of the bed.
She put some lubricant on the fingers of her other hand, and started working it
around, and in the entry to my anus. Her
fingers worked their way gradually inside me.
It was a strange but not altogether unpleasant sensation.
Pat's voice came through the
haze " All over but the shouting folks. Priscilla has been prettified -
and parceled in pink- and is about to get poked".
At this point I think that I
finally realized what was happening. I
woke up to the fact that I had been involved in a trial of strength with
Dorothy for Christ's sake!. I could have
won it -- maybe could even win it yet?
Really terrified of my own
weakness now, I tried to escape but was totally imprisoned within the peignoir.
I became very conscious of my soft, smooth, womanish arms waving weakly in
front of me. The smell of my perfume and cosmetics filling the enclosed area,
and my voice softly weeping for mercy.
There was nothing masculine
left in my world - except for the two women who had both demonstrated that they
were more manly than myself. I could
see, hear, smell, nothing but my own femininity while, at the same time, feel
the oncoming masculinity of someone I'd considered extremely feminine.
My arms were totally useless,
wrapped in the diaphanous material, as well as being tied with the pink
ribbons. Even my leg movement was
restricted by my harem pants and panties being down around my ankles. I could breathe all right, could even make
out vague shapes through the fabric, and could hear perfectly well. Well enough to hear the sounds of Dorothy's
laughing comments on the feel of the dildo and how 'the girl' was really acting
up.
For a second or two, I
re-doubled my frantic efforts to escape, and got a firm command to "Stop
it!" Unwisely, I ignored her command. Quickly, I was turned over, the chiffon
layers got pulled up and I was over her knee, being spanked soundly. I surrendered, lying prone, and starting to
cry again.
"Look" she said tenderly "Be a good girl and relax. It won't hurt
so much that way". She lifted me
from her knees and maneuvered me until my legs were over the edge of the
bed. Then, she was straddling me, her
hand inside me again and working her legs in between mine. She used her feet to kick off my pants and
panties, then pulled my legs apart.
"Keep them like
that" she warned me.
"Please don't do this to
me Dorothy" I cried softly.
"Do what?" She asked.
"Put that thing in
me." I pleaded.
"But weren't you going
to put 'your' thing in me the other day?"
She asked.
I didn't know what to say.
"Legs up! There's a good
girl!" She said, and I complied.
I felt something poking at
me. Just as it started to enter, I tried to think of something - anything - to
take my mind off of what was happening.
"What are you getting
out of this ?" I asked.
"Oh," she
said. "A brand new, total
wardrobe. Pat's giving me a fantastic
price for all of my clothes."
"Eh?" I said, my back passage opening to something that was
growing inside me. "They won't fit
her."
She giggled as she came even
further inside me "Course not,
silly! They're all for YOU!. It's a real
strange price too.." She paused,
entering me some more. "How could
she possibly have come up with a price of $82,674.49, Eh?"
I bucked as she pushed
further inside me, horrified at what I was hearing.
She continued. "Isn't that great? Now you can dress up in all of my pretty
clothes, and be a real girl-friend to Pat and me all the time!"
Another thrust, and the
'thing' was all the way inside me now.
She lifted away from me, then came back in, harder now.
"I'm not hurting you too
much, am I baby?"
I couldn't help it. I raised
my body in response.. But I knew where the 'strange' price had come from, and
was pretty sure it wasn't coming from Pat's bank account.
I really cried then. - And my new life started
The end
3 comments:
Thank you for posting here.
I always like your stories.
Sugar, it was a classic tale even when you wrote it (Original title: $90,000, publication on the TV Channel March 2000) and it's wonderful (again!) now. I hope you're feeling better - and I hope you continue to write and enjoy your femininity, no matter what your age!
Chrissie
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