White Trash free porn video

The best sissy transformation story I ever read :

White Trash
By The Scallywags

I’ve been a cross-dresser since about age thirteen. It’s not something I’m
proud of. I’d like to stop, but it’s like a d**g and its sleazy allure soon
drags me back from my latest attempt at abstinence. This time, with
horrific consequences.

Me? Well I’m a white male, a lot shorter than I’d ideally like at 5′ 6”
and weighing in at about 145 pounds. I’ve never been one for sports and
have always steered well clear of v******e of any sort. With my height and
build I know I’d soon get the shit kicked out of me!

I’m a freelance web site designer, nothing too big, just designing and
supporting web sites for local businesses, which I publish on my web
server. It does have the benefit that I get to work from home. I live alone
in a medium sized two-bedroom house, with an office in the den, in a middle
class neighborhood. My neighbors are typically older retired people, mostly
now widowed but still living in the same houses they had shared for thirty
years or more. My house has a secluded patio and a nice size pool at the
very back in what I `thought’ to be a private location, behind the
garage. I say `thought’ because recent events have proven me wrong.

About two months back, I was enjoying a long weekend of kicking back, and
indulging my fantasy about being dressed as a woman. In these fantasies, I
am forced, by some unseen Master or Mistress, to dress up in panties,
stockings, a brassiere (stuffed with two water filled condoms) skirt,
blouse, heels and jewelry, but no makeup. And then I am `instructed’ to go
about my house performing ordinary chores that inevitably involve lots of
bending over and stretching which causes my scanty clothing to reveal more
than its designer’s intended. That’s it really. Nothing too wild or
crazy. I’ve tried indulging in a little anal experimentation with butt
plugs and others, but found it painful and so rarely bother now. To make
the fantasy more exciting I’ll usually try to involve a mild risk of
exposure to people outside this secret life of mine. Again, nothing too
daring, I’ll put mail outside my front door very late at night, or run
about the kitchen scantily clad in broad daylight, always safely behind
closed windows and screens mind. I enjoy sitting out on my patio in the
evenings-dying light while smoking a joint and drinking, in a very delicate
and lady like manner, a glass of red wine. The weekend all this changed
was a scorcher, the thermometer on my shady, partially covered, patio was
reading over 100 degrees Fahrenheit, and the air-conditioned was having
serious trouble from stopping the inside temperature from matching it.
Even dressed only in a skimpy sundress and panties, I was
sweltering. Inevitably, my thoughts turned to my pool. I had a dazzling
little turquoise and yellow thong bikini I had been dying to be brave
enough to use for weeks. I decided today was the day!

As I walked out to the pool, I was careful to walk quietly in my four-inch
heeled white slip-on sandals, and to keep the hem of the oversized T-shirt
I was wearing pulled down over my scantily clad buns. Keeping close to the
cover provided by the side of the house I wiggled my way out to the pool.

Within minutes I was floating, lost deep in thought, on my back letting the
cool water caress me. A sound from behind the thin bamboo fence, separating
me from the family living in the house behind mine, suddenly broke my
daydream and sent me scurrying to seek shelter up against the side of the
pool nearest the fence. My reasoning was that I would be hidden from any
prying eyes hidden behind the sunlit fence.

This was bad. The family that live behind me are the typical `bad apples’
you get trying to spoil every idyllic neighborhood. They were the ones with
the two snarling and constantly barking dogs, the ones who set off their
own fireworks every July fourth, regardless of the realistic danger of
their unkempt tinderbox garden going up in flames, and taking mine with
it. These were the neighbors who held fierce shouting matches at full
volume at any time of the day, the ones who played loud acid house music
late in to the night while laughing, hollering and carrying on with no
regard for anyone around them. In other words, they were the local white
trash, and I had them as neighbors with the very real risk of one of them
playing peek-a-boo with me while dressed in a fashion I had no wish to be
ever seen in.

I held myself breathlessly at the edge of the pool, after a few seconds
that seemed to last forever, I heard the sounds of someone moving away from
the fence. Had they been watching me? They gave no indication of having
seen me as I heard their kitchen door screen slam shut. All was quiet. I
was alone again. Should I get out and scurry back to the cover and security
of my house? Or should I go with my feelings that it was nothing and
continue with my original plan and do a spot of sunbathing? I decided to
hang out in the pool a few minutes longer, listening for any evidence there
was still anybody out there. I waited, ears straining, what I thought to
be a suitable period for caution and then climbed out and jumped quickly in
to my hammock, my water filled breasts swinging wildly within the miniscule
support of my bikini top. I decided I wanted that ultimate of female
attributes, tan lines from a sexy bikini. Nothing too obvious, just the
exciting thong bikini border of paler skin against the faintest hint of the
gold of a tan.

I relaxed in the sun, the adrenaline high of my recent brush with danger
and the effects of a hectic workweek draining off as I slipped in to a warm
and comfortable sleep.

Part 2. Caught:

My deep and sexy dream filled sleep was shattered by the realization that a
shadow had moved suddenly over my face, I was no longer awake. With a
start, I sat up, sending my latex breasts in to rapid movement within my
bikini. My eyes opened with terror to the malevolent grins of the two sons
of my neighbors. I was caught.

“Well lookey what we have here Jim!” smirked the older brother Sam. “Looks
like we got us a died in the wool faggot. All dressed up in it’s sexiest
bikini.”

Jim just smiled maniacally, displaying an overfull mouth of discolored
teeth. Some type of `snarf’ sound escaped his throat as his brother
continued. “Yes Jim, we have captured ourselves our own personal faggot,
fairy slave!”

His use of the word `slave’ broke my terror filled trance. I realized this
could quickly get out of hand, “Now hang on a minute…”

“Shut the fuck up faggot! You just keep your cock sucking mouth clamped
tightly shut if you know what’s good for you” shouted Sam.

The sheer v******e of his face and body language as he screamed at me, his
face coming close enough that some spittle from his angry words splashed
out on to my upturned face beneath him, convinced me to shut up and back
down away from him.

Seeing me so obviously back down calmed Sam as he realized I had conceded a
lot of ground, or face, to him already. “That’s it, there’s a good little
sissy, keep it clamped tightly shut as your new Master…”

I again bridled at his choice of words, but my only protest was to try and
sit up, and he quickly stopped this, and any verbal complaint I had
planned, by reaching behind my head and grabbing a large handful of my long
brown hair. He pulled my head up until it was back within spitting range of
his furious, anger twisted, mouth.

“Now listen here you little sissy faggot cunt, and listen fucking good
while I tell you how it’s going to be around here. From now on, your
perverted little faggot ass is mine. Mine to do with as I please. Do you
understand cunt? Am I making myself clear?

I could only nod my spittle-covered face in abject terror. Sam was a good
eight inches and nearly two hundred pound bigger than I, there was no way I
could beat him physically. I realized my only option was to do as he said,
no matter how… no matter how sick, depraved, disgusting or humiliating it
was. Until such time as I could extricate myself from this mess without any
danger of real and serious bodily harm I was very unfortunately his to do
with as he planned. Short of possibly dying, I had no alternative. I was
fucked.

“Good, now listen carefully while we tell you your new roll and a few new
rules you’re going to start living by. First, you are now my property. This
means you do exactly what I tell you, when I tell you, and with your
sexiest smile on.

Secondly, the same is true for my dear younger brother here. Whatever he
tells you, you do.

Thirdly, we have full control and access over you and everything you
own. Your house, your clothes, your car, everything. Is that clear? Are you
keeping up you sissy faggot? Go on tell me that the sissy faggot
understands and agrees to comply with everything I’ve said so far”

Tears were welling up in the corner of my eyes as the bleak future promised
by his, no by my new orders, was so clearly painted. I resolved not to let
them see me cry, it would serve me on purpose, and would only serve to
emphasis their hold and superiority over me at this time. I followed the
only course open to me. “Yes… yes, I agree.”

“Not good enough cunt. I told you to tell me the sissy faggot understands
and complies with everything Master Sam has said. . In fact beg me! Go on,
beg me to let the sissy faggot do everything Master Sam and Master Jim
want, beg me to use and abuse you and all your stuff. Go on cunt, beg me”

God, was he going to make everything such a degrading ordeal? I had no
choice; I was completely outmaneuvered both physically and mentally. My
only choice was to go ahead and submit to his twisted demands, or face at
the very least a really bad beating, possibly even long lasting physical
harm.

I folded, even as I realized I was giving way to this bullying youth the
last vestiges of my masculinity. I looked up at his overbearing physical
presence and begged him. “Please Master Sam,” I said, trying to down play
my natural English accent, “please Master Jim, let this little Sissy Faggot
be your slave. Please use little Sissy Faggot’s property, car, clothes as
you see fit.”

An evil grin was evident on both their faces as Sam did not let up “That’s’
good cunt, keep on begging us, but do it in a girly voice, you know with a
lisp and a high sexy voice. Let us hear your little English school girl
voice.”

Blushing deeply now with shame, I complied and forced my voice to my best
impression of a little girl as I continued, “please Massster Ssssam and
Massster Jim, let me be you ssspecial ssslave ssisssy?”

They both fell about laughing as I continued begging for the very last
thing I could ever possibly want.

“Oh that’s great cunt, that was brilliant, you sound like a stuck up Daffy
Duck! Tell you what, loose the lisp, but from now on you will only ever use
that voice, stress that stupid accent, and keep it nice and high, you
understand?

Still blushing furiously, I nodded my agreement.

“Good. Now back to the rules. Where were we Jim?”

“Four.” The speed and clarity of Jim’s answer startled me, and it dawned on
me that he was not the idiot neighbor I had taken him for all this time.

“Good. Fourth rule. You will dress at all times in the manner which Jim and
I will outline in a minute. Now we know you have some cushy job working
from home,” my surprise at their knowledge of my habits showed on my face
judging from the smile it elicited on Sam’s as he continued, “so that means
you can wear what we tell you, all the time. I mean when you are working,
sleeping, eating or even fucking! You will at all times wear exactly what
we say. If you need to change, you’ll have to come and see us for
permission. Now is that part clear?”

The full consequences of my capture and surrender were now becoming
painfully obvious. He wanted to run my life according to his sick and
perverted fantasy twenty-four hours a day, and seven day a week. Still I
had no option. I could only agree to obey him in every little humiliating
details and just hope a chance of escape presented itself to me later.

“Yes Master Sam, I agree to do exactly, to wear exactly, and to act exactly
as you tell me, and to only change my clothes with permission from you or
Master Jim.”

“There’s a good little cunt… we need a new name for you! Do you have a
name you call yourself when you’re dressed up as a little cock sucking
faggot?” My eyes dived to the ground in shame, I inadvertently telling him
what he wanted to hear. “You do! I know it! Go on tell us what it is. Tell
us what you call yourself while you act out your sick dreams.”

“Candy.” I mumbled.

“What? I can’t hear you bitch.”

“Candy, Candy Row.” I said clearly.

“Candy Row, what kind of…”

“As in Randy Cow.” His brother Jim quickly worked out. “It’s a
`spoonerism’, you swap the first letter of each word. Candy Row, Randy
Cow.”

“OK. So Candy Row, our little Randy Cow, it is. Rule five. You will always
refer to yourself in the third person. So rather than saying `Please Master
Jim, please may I suck your dick?’ you will say `Please Master Jim, may
Candy suck you big dick?’ You got that?”

“Yes, I under…”

“THEN DO IT!” he screamed at me, causing me to involuntarily shudder as I
backed away from his fury.

“Sorry Master Sam, Candy is sorry. Candy agrees to and understands
everything you have told me… I mean her.” I hastily replied.

Sam let out a long breath as some of the anger drained from his tense
face. “That’s better. This is only going to be as hard as you make it. Me?
Personally, I hope you fight and struggle every step of the way. That way I
get to savor every little nuance of your shame and suffering.”

His words chilled me to the bone. He knew exactly what he was doing. He was
going to make it as hard and uncomfortable for me as he knew how.

“Good, now we digress, back to your new rules. Number… six,” his brother
prompted again, “rule number six is that you will smile your prettiest
smile AT ALL TIMES! No matter how degraded, humiliated or sick you feel,
you will always have a sexy little smile pasted on your pretty little
face. Comprend^Â?”

Again I was forced to politely answer my Master, before he continued, the
rule making apparently over. “So why don’t you stay here sunning your
little ass? I think you front is well done,” I realized with another start
that I had slept in the sun much longer than I had planned, my whole front
and face had caught a great deal more sun than I had planned.

“Here we’ll make sure you stay nice and tight.” This last was said as he
produced a roll of silver duct tape from a previously unnoticed duffel at
his feet. Both boys forcibly rolled me over on to my front and proceed to
bind me, none to gently, to the hammock frame. When finished, I was bound
securely, spread-eagled face down, in the full heat of the sun. Sam
continued. “So let’s get some sun on your dainty little ass.

Sam carefully made sure that my bikini top and thong bottom was in the
correct position to join the tan lines on my front, slapped both my ass
cheeks really hard, and then commented. “Right then, you stay here sunning
your self Candy, while Jim and I go and have a good look around your house”

And so I was left. I don’t know how long I remained bound tightly to my
hammock; it must have been close to two hours. I can tell you that for when
they eventually came back out to the pool, I was dying. The sun was really
hot on my back, exposed ass cheeks, and legs. I was sweltering and ready to
give them anything, I was so thirsty and hot, I would have gladly agreed to
anything they ordered, or even politely asked. I was fried.

“Hey Candy, you ready to come in and get changed for a little shopping?”
Called Sam from the cool depths of my pool as they splashed around mere
inches from my torment.

“Yes please Master Sam. Candy’s ready to go in and get changed now.” I
eagerly replied my smile almost sincere now. Anything to be released from
the stare of the sun.

“Good girl, well why don’t you cool down in here a minute, after that we’ll
go and get you changed and then it’s off to the shops. Hope you have
plenty of money Candy, because we have quite a little shopping spree ahead
of us. But then, all girls love to shop for pretty things, and I bet a
little cock sucking faggot like you is no different Candy? Isn’t that true”

“Yes Master Sam, Candy likes to go shopping for pretty things.”

I was released, stripped naked to show off my new, unmistakably obvious,
tan lines, and provide them with a great opportunity to taunt me about the
small size of my male equipment.

“Look!” called Sam as I climbed in to the delicious coolness of my pool,
“that’s not really big enough to be a dick, it’s more like an oversized
clit! Hey Candy, I can see your Peter-Clit!” I realized it was obviously
about to get worse.

Part 3. Changing:

As I entered my bedroom, it was obvious the brothers had been busy
here. Every drawer was open, so was my wardrobe and every cupboard. There
was a large pile of my clothing stuffed in to several garbage bags just
outside the door. With horror I looked in to my wardrobe and my worse fears
were confirmed as I looked upon my collection of Candy’s clothes. They had
bagged everything masculine thing I owned, and replaced it with all my
skirts, dresses, and blouses. A quick look in to the still open drawers
confirmed the same story; all my jockey shorts were gone, replaced with all
my dainty panties and lacey brassieres. My socks were gone in place of
stocking, garter belts and tights. T-shirts were now my collection of tight
fitting cropped tops, bodysuits, and camisoles and my jewelry was cluttered
on top of my dresser.

My reverie was short lived as Same pushed me on to my bed, now resplendent
in my pink satin sheets I had been saving for a special day, “There you go
Candy, we thought we’d tidy up a little. You won’t be needing all those
ugly masculine clothes and things, so we’re taking those, after all, be a
shame to waste them wouldn’t it?”

“Yes Master Sam.” I smiled as sweetly as I could as I watched them load up
several thousand dollars of good suits, shirts and other clothing.

“Good, now we’ve also moved all your pretty clothes in here for you. Your
pretty undies are all stashed away, and your lovely jewelry is out for
you. Now where’s your makeup?”

“Oh I don’t… I mean, Candy doesn’t wear any make up Master Sam.”

“No? Well we’ll soon see to that. Now Master Jim has picked out something
pretty for you to wear on our trip to the mall and I’ll pick out some
jewelry for you to wear also. What are you waiting for, your clothes are on
the bed. Get changed.”

Please don’t make him be serious? He was, I could see that anger starting
to rise up in him as he watched me watching him. I knew what was coming and
was frightened. I moved quickly to do as he ordered me.

I picked up the butt plug and proceeded to lube it up well with the
thoughtfully provided jar of Vaseline. It was not the first time I had
forced this rather large penis shaped plug up my ass, but the last time was
many months ago and I had stretched my anus very little recently. It was
definitely the first time I had ever had to insert it in front of two
men. Knowing, and shying from, the consequences of refusal, I lubed the
plug well before trying to gingerly slide it up my light hole. After a
minute Sam exploded with anger at my slow progress and grabbed my wrist and
pulled me to him as he sat in my bedroom chair. He roughly forced me over
his lap and then grabbed the butt plug and forced it straight up my
defenseless butt, slapping it fully home with the palm of his right hand. I
screamed as the widest part was forced through my over stretched sphincter
muscle.

Not satisfied that I was in enough pain, and still fueled with his anger at
my perceived reluctance to follow his orders, Sam laid in to spanking my
unprotected ass with his oversized and callused hand. I couldn’t believe
the pain that he was generating in my buttocks! In under a minute, my plan
to never let them see me cry was washed away with the tears that ran freely
down my cheeks. I was sobbing, screaming and begging for him to stop. Only
when I finally promised, swearing upon all manner of deities, promises and
threats, to obey his every spoken word, did he relent and stop his hand
hammering down on my derriere.

He then turned me over and without pausing, forced my small testicles back
up in to their cavity, it was extremely uncomfortable.

As I climbed down from his lap I caught a glimpse of my bottom in the
wardrobe door mirror. It was almost scarlet and was currently burning like
hell from the evil combination of a brutal spanking, and a developing case
of sunburn. Worse, my front view revealed only a small penis, sans balls,
hanging limply and pathetically down.

I was heading for clothes lay out on my bed when Jim announced “Oh that
won’t do. Not at all. We’re going to have to do something about all that
body hair.”

I looked down upon the sparse covering of body hair I was rather proud
of. “Your right Bro.” Agreed Sam. “It’s into the shower with you young Miss
Candy Row. You’re gonna have to shave every last mother hair from that puny
body of yours. Off to the shower you go. But here, no need to go naked is
there?” He through me the most translucent peignoir I had ever owned. This
thing was transparent, only the merest hint of baby blush pink tinted its
shimmering nylon lace. I slipped it on as instructed, for once not even
noticing the silky texture of the robe. My pair of pink satin fur trimmed
mules completed my attire for the seemingly long walk of twenty feet to my
bathroom. My ass was still glowing, fiercely, and the butt plug up my ass
was as uncomfortable as I remembered it to be.

Here, I was instructed to remove the robe and slippers and stand beneath
scalding jets of water and remove every last hair from my body, save those
on my eyebrows, eyelashes and head. When I returned to my bedroom, once
again resplendent in peignoir and four-inch pink shoes, I had been
thoroughly inspected for any single body hair. Further fun had been cruelly
made of my small penis, now even more pathetic looking, sans its
neighborhood pubic forest.

Now I was forced to don the clothing Master Jim… `I must stop myself
thinking of them as `Masters.” My outfit comprised of an a****l print and
black lace bra, a tiny turquoise thong I had been meaning to throw out for
years, due to its too small size. A brilliant red garter belt, a pair of
seamed black stockings, a hooped white mini skirt made from almost
transparent nylon, a pink angora sweater, and my six inch platform
stilettos made from clear plastic completed the wanton attire laid out on
my bed for me.

I was mortified at the prospect of my being seen dressed like this in a
public place like the mall. Once again, I desperately reviewed my options,
hoping against hope that I had somehow missed a way out in my previous
assessments. Unfortunately, none presented themselves to me, so I was left
with on choice but to start putting on the sluttish apparel awaiting me.

With considerable discomfort I worked the miniscule G-string panties up my
legs and in to place around my newly denuded privates, with my penis tucked
back the profile was entirely feminine with my balls stuffed uncomfortably
out of sight. The tribal brassier was next, repacked with my ever jiggling
latex breasts.

I was briefly scolded when I failed to slide the stockings up my legs in a
sufficiently `sissy like’ manner, and was careful there after to live the
roll of Sam’s sissy. Once the seams were straight to Sam and Jim’s
satisfaction, I attached them to the six oversized garters on the belt. The
slip like skirt was next, it’s lack of opaqueness and the tight way it
clung to my still throbbing ass, served to do little to disguise the
presence of my bright turquoise thong and bright red garter belt. Even my
recently tanned thighs were clearly visible.

Sam’s continuos mean looks in my direction convinced me that I had better
get a move on. I quickly slipped the angora sweater over my head, once
again failing to notice a favored texture, but not failing to notice the
way the dark a****l print of my bra was clearly visible through the tightly
stretched fine and fuzzy wool.

As I worked the towering shoes on to my reluctant feet and stood teetering
atop their ridiculous six-inch heels, I realized how exposed I felt dressed
like this. Even here with the two men forcing me to dress in this fashion,
the transparent nature of my skirt, my slutty stockings and garters so
clearly visible, with my bright pink wool sweater snugly hugging my body
wherever it touched, and it touched everywhere. I felt like I was wearing
nothing.

My feeling of insecurity wasn’t helped by Sam’s choice of the jewelry I was
to wear. My largest gold hoop earrings – a full four inches in diameter,
every jangling bracelet I owned, and his finishing touch, when his brother
breathlessly returned, a red studded collar, fresh from the neck of their
bitch Doberman, complete with jangling tags.

“There we go Miss Candy, all dressed up and ready for your big shopping
adventure! Shall we go?”

A final peek in the mirror confirmed my worse fears, an androgynous looking
person, of decidedly uncertain gender, dressed as an obviously lower end
street walker, stared back at me.

Part 4. Coffee in the mall:

Of course I had to drive to the mall, my plug seemingly to stuff my butt
like I was constantly having an enormous bowel movement.

The two boys enjoying playing with every gadget my white Jeep Wrangler had
to offer, thus ensuring we drew more than our fair share of attention much
to my ever increasing horror. Sam directed me to pull off the freeway and
head to the Galleria. With shock I realized that my girlfriend Sherri and
many of our friends used the Galleria to shop and as a meeting place.
“Please Master Sam, can’t Candy go shopping somewhere else?” I pleaded.

Sam picked up on my reluctance immediately. “Oh so there’s some reason you
would rather not go to the Galleria Candy?

Come on, tell Master Sam”

What could I do? “Well, it’s just that I know… I mean Candy knows a lot
of people who go there… including my girlfriend… Sherri… ”

“Well silly” replied Sam in an annoyingly patronizing manner “tell me where
they go, and perhaps we can avoid those places.”

I was so thankful that I blurted out the names of the coffee shop and other
stores I knew Sherri and our friends frequented.

I should have known better than to even think Sam had a compassionate bone
in his body. “You hear that Jimbo, looks like we’re going to have to have
one of those lardy-dah coffee drinks. You see cunt” he said turning back to
me “everyone’s going to see you as a sissy cock-sucker sooner or
later. Haven’t you worked it out yet? This is for keeps, I’m planning on
making your new position a permanent one! So we might as well go in there
now and get it started. I’m sure there’s a whole list of people we gotta
let know about Pasadena’s new official sissy slut!”

We pulled in to the mall and Sam instructed me to park as far away from the
mall as was possible. Of course, that way I would have to put on my show as
we walked down town to get to the mall. `Would it ever end?’ I asked myself
once again.

As we left the parking structure Sam and the now seemingly emboldened Jim,
gave me strict instructions on how I was to deport myself. Not
surprisingly, this comprised of me swinging my ass and breasts about as
much as decency and the laws of gravity would permit. By the time we
entered the Galleria I was strutting my stuff like a veteran hooker, and
drawing an uncomfortable amount of stares from people perplexed by the
androgynous specimen sashaying itself towards the mall.

Once in the mall I was directed to walk precisely five paces behind the two
men, who kept shooting dagger like looks at me if my poise ever belied
anything other than a tart. We proceeded to walk from one end of the mall,
stopping from time to time somewhere inconvenient like right outside the
gentlemen’s toilets, and then back again. The entire time my cheeks were
burning bright red with shame. I would have hidden my face if I had not
already tried, been caught, and warned of the consequences if my head was
anything but held high. My shoulders were to be held rigidly back to
further accentuate my pink wool encased and swirling breasts. My steps were
to small, ensuring the tortuous heels were noisy upon mall tile floors, and
my hips swung lewdly from side to side as I dutifully followed behind my
Masters.

When at last we made it back to where we had entered, Sam informed us it
was time for a refreshing coffee at my friends favored hang out. Cringing
physically, I followed Sam and Jim into the familiar, and once secure,
interior of `The Golden Bean’. A furtive look around revealed no one I
knew, and so I relaxed enough to dutifully follow Sam’s loud orders and to
`be a good slave and fetch us some of those fancy coffees’. I was sure to
`be a good slave’ and get myself a super-sized cup of regular.

Standing in line was nerve wracking as I expected to be recognized at any
moment. Still no one shouted my real name out. Sure I got a lot of strange
looks, and even heard one man refer to me as a “fucking faggot”, my face
erupted in to a deep red blush.

I was grateful to be able to return to the relative sanctuary of the table
the boys had secured. Of course my seat was facing, and directly in front
of the main entrance, ensuring I would be the first thing anybody saw as
they entered the coffee shop. That and the fact that the hard stool served
to further ram my uncomfortable butt plug even further home made sure I was
anything but relaxed.

I dutifully drained my voluminous coffee, and even made it half way trough
the refill I was instructed to purchase, before it happened.

The way I quickly thrust my head into the cover of my arms was enough to
alert Jim that they had hit pay dirt and somebody I knew had just
entered. “Looks like Miss Candy has a friend in the house” he joked.

“Who is it?” hissed Sam.

Reluctantly I told them, “That great big muscle bound guy by the cakes,
he’s some kind of friend of Sherri’s”

“Well then, don’t you think you should go over and say `Hi’? Be sure to use
your new girly voice like we practiced earlier cunt.”

No. He couldn’t be serious? Could he? He didn’t really expect me to go over
to that jock, dressed like this, and strike up a conversation? Please God,
NO!

“Well go on then Candy, go up to the nice man and say Hi. Oh, and be sure
to make sure he knows who you are, you know mention Sherri’s name a few
times to be sure. In fact go on and invite him over to join us, that way we
can be sure he knows all about you. Well go on then, go get him!”

I was forced up out of seat, the ferocity of Sam’s voice had made sure that
all heads were turned in our direction, and were now, thanks to Sam, openly
staring at me. Fighting back waves of nausea, I fought to remain conscious
as I made my blushing way to… what was his name? Dave, Denn, no Don, that
was it Don.

His eyes were locked on to me as I made my way over to him. As quietly as
possible, I dug myself still deeper in to the mire”

Hello Don, how you doing buddy?” I asked in my almost falsetto little girl
voice.

Whether it was my accent or something else that triggered his recognition I
will never know, but his eyes lit up in recognition and surprise.

“It’s… it’s Alan isn’t it? Alan Borne?”

“Yes” I was once again blushing furiously “So. Ahh… well, so how you
been? You look good.”

“Yeah” he stammered, “so do you, I mean a little different from when last I
saw you…”

“Yes well,” I tried to bravely push on, but there was something about Don’s
stare that frightened me a little. I pushed on regardless, “we were
wondering, that is, ah, my two friends over there” I pointed to where Sam
and Jim were listening in enthusiastically “were wondering if you would
like to join us?

“Yeah sure, I’d like to know what all this is about. Believe me, I have a
vested interest” His last comments, and the quick nature of his acceptance
did nothing to dispel my feelings of uneasiness. “Let me get a coffee and
I’ll come join you and `your two friends”.

Of course I should have guessed how it was going to go. My luck wasn’t
exactly sky rocketing at present. Turns out Don had been trying to get
inside the panties of my lovely girlfriend Sherri, and with recent success
I was horrified to learn. He saw this as a perfect opportunity to demolish
my reputation with the woman I was in love with, and at the same time get a
little revenge for the two years he was convinced I had stolen from him by
dating Sherri. Don reveled in telling the brothers and I that Sherri had
finally despaired at the tiny size of my penis, and so had gone to Don for
`some real loving’.

I was distraught. On top of all the indignities heaped on top of me
already, I had now been revealed as a little sissy faggot to the man who
was fucking my girlfriend, and now I had three Masters!

I was dispatched to go loiter outside the gents, “But under no
circumstances was I to use them.” I dutifully loitered, drawing a wide
selection of reactions ranging from hate and contempt, through pity, and on
to lust! Yes, I distinctly remember two different men looking at me in a
decidedly unpleasant sexual manner. Meanwhile the brothers and Don plotted
and planned further injustices upon me.

By the time the three men had completed their discussions, exchanged
numbers and just generally leered at me, I was beginning to feel the
effects of over twenty fluid ounces of coffee and was beginning to squirm a
little.

Sam as always, missed nothing. “What’s the matter there Miss Candy? You
look a little uncomfortable.”

“I need… “A quick ferocious glare made me see my error, “I mean Candy
needs to pee Master Sam.”

“Well that’s too bad then, you should have gone before we left home. Come
on, we’ve got loads of shopping to do. Bring your credit cards cunt, let’s
go.” And so I wobbled and jangled along after them.

Part 5. The Salon:

Our first stop was at a salon I knew Sherri used occasionally. I knew this
because I had spent some time waiting for her here. I was known.

Once inside Sam wasted no time on pleasantries, he strolled up to the
counted and demanded that “Can someone take care of this sissy here right
now!”

I cringed ands felt my face flame red again. A young girl I had never met,
thankfully, came to see what the fuss was all about, “Can I help you…”
again the pause due to my uncertain looking sex, “men, is it?”

“Yes, we’re all men, though to be honest I think my friend Alan here,”
waving to me as I stood rooted to the spot in shame and humiliation. He
continued, “I think Alan, or Candy as he likes to be called, Candy would
like to get a full perm, color, manicure and pedicure. Isn’t that right
Candy?” His openly hostile glare once again told me of the futility in
arguing with him.

“Yes please Miss.” I answered in my now familiar feeling little girly
voice; “Can you please fit Candy in?” I was desperately hoping they would
be too busy on this hot Saturday afternoon.

“Well yes, it’s pretty quiet here for a Saturday, I think Gloria can help
you now.”

Gloria, I recognized the name immediately from some only half listened to
conversation I’d had with Sherri about her stylist. Gloria was Sherri’s
stylist, and friend.

The brothers Grimm followed me through to the work area where Gloria and
one other girl were chatting to themselves in an empty salon. As we
approached I could see she didn’t recognize me, after all it is quite a
leap to go from normal man, to androgynous slut.

The young lady from the front was quick to explain my situation to Gloria,
whose eyebrows rose accordingly. She looked at me with renewed interest,
just as Sam blew away the final veil of recognition, “Hello there, this
young man Alan, wants a big blonde curly hair do. We are talking big
hair. Isn’t that right Alan? You want something more befitting your new
status in life, something more in keeping with your new role of Candy the
cock sucking sissy sex slave?”

Again I was forced to totally demean myself and ask for something I had
absolutely no desire for. “Yes please Gloria.”

But Gloria wasn’t listening, the use of my real first name, coupled with my
unmistakable accent, had caused her to lean forward and to stare in to my
eyes. “I know you! You’re Alan. Sherri’s… boyfriend? I knew Sherri said
you were a little pathetic at times, but I had no idea it was this
pathetic!”

Ow! Even now, it hurt to hear the lady I thought was in love with me had
been telling her friends, even her hair stylist, that I `was a little
pathetic’.

Gloria suddenly seemed very enthusiastic to help in my humiliation. “Well
then Alan, why don’t you step out of your cute little stockings and we go
get your hair washed while your friends here” this was said with a look of
pretty intense lust directed at Sam, “tell Monica what it is exactly `you’
want done.” With that, she allowed me two minutes to hastily remove my
stockings, not bothering to tell me why, then grabbed my wrist, with more
force than was necessary, and dragged me towards the hair washing stations
at the rear of the store.

Once again I found myself careening along with no say in my future, I was
not enjoying this at all. Once in among the wash stations Gloria let me
know exactly what she thought of me. “I can’t believe how pathetic you are,
no wonder Sherri’s been looking else where for some decent sex. Oh yes
Alan, or didn’t I hear you called Candy back there?” My down turned eyes
confirmed her answer. “Well Miss Candy, I cannot wait to see Sherri and
tell her how pathetic little you is being forced to flounce around the mall
in your slutty little clothes, forced by two teenagers at that. They aren’t
even real men!” She erupted in laughter as she viciously yanked my head
back under the hot water and proceeded to lather my hair.

It was with mounting regret that I lamented my decision to let my hair grow
out. Although up to a little over four hours ago I’d thought it kinda cool
in a grunge way, I was now regretting it badly. Gloria had a lot to work
with, and I desperately feared what was being discussed back in the salon.

Once my hair had been shampooed and conditioned, I was lead back in to the
salon.

“Hey Gloria, we thought you might like to use Lisa’s station? She’s not
here, and you have to admit it has the best view!” this last comment was
met with gales of laughter from all, but me. I realized the source of their
laughter when I was made to sit in the chair immediately next to the large
glass windows that comprised the front of the store.

“Hey look Candy. Look what we made for you!” Sam was holding a piece of
white cardboard, twenty inches high and nearly three feet in width. Written
in large, eye-catching, and bold text was the legend: SEE A MAN BE
TRANSFORMED IN TO A SISSY BEFORE YOUR VERY EYES!

Again I could only marvel at what terrible injustices could make a man such
a sadistic bastard. He never missed an opportunity to make a terrible
ordeal even worse. Sam was a natural sadist, but not just the stupid
violent kind; no he was a meticulous and intelligent natural psychological
bully. With much laughter, Sam taped the billboard in to place in the
window right next to me. Worse, as Gloria and Monica started work on me,
Sam and Jim went outside to first stare, but then to actively get people to
watch my ordeal from a few feet from where I burned with shame.

Gloria and Monica went to work on me. Pulling out all the stops as my hair
was soaked with an array of evil smelling chemicals, both my toes and
fingers were fussed over, all unseen by me as I was ordered to keep my eyes
tightly close during the entire procedure. All I knew was that it felt like
my toes were painted; my fingernails had something glued to them before
being sprayed with something involving a small compressor and airgun. I was
guided, with my eyes still screwed shut, to a chair with a hair dryer over
it. Once the hair dryer was positioned over my head, blocking out all
sounds from outside, I felt it being moved. Strongly believing Sam’s threat
of making me give blowjobs out in the nearby crowded mall toilets, I opted
to follow his orders and not sneak a peak. If I had I would have been
mortified to learn that they had actually wheeled me outside the store.
Little known to me, I was providing free entertainment as I sat there,
oblivious to everything but the loud hum of the hairdryer. Sam’s sign was
now prominently taped to the chair besides me.

For over an hour I sat there as streams of people, mostly strangers but
probably one or two people whom new me personally, walked by, or worse
stopped to study the ridiculous spectacle I was unwillingly providing.

Finally Gloria decided I was `done’ so I was wheeled back inside and helped
back to the window side chair. Gloria now set about piercing my
ears. Apparently it had been decided that I should have each ear pierced
three times! Gloria loved her work. I could hear how much enjoyment I was
providing her each time I grunted when she finally stopped toying with me
and pierced another of the holes. “Oh you are such a sissy Candy, even
little school girls make less of a fuss than you are”. I decided against
pointing out that most of these little treasures she was describing to me,
were probably here of their own volition, and probably only had two holes
at a time!

Monica fixed three pair of gold studs in place while lecturing me on how to
take care of them, and not to wear anything too large for about a
week. Meanwhile Gloria was putting the finishing touches to my `new’ hair,
which I had yet to catch a glimpse of, as she yanked on a comb, pulling and
twisting my hair and head all over my head.

Finally! They were done. I was told I could open my eyes. The first thing I
saw, once my eyes adjusted to the glare, was a crowd of about nine people
all staring and smiling, their eyes a mixture of pity, lust and disgust, at
me in the chair now facing outside the salon. Sam then spun my chair around
with a fanfare call of “Ta-Raaa!”

I couldn’t believe my eyes. The face was still unmistakably mine, but that
was all you could say. My still vaguely recognizably masculine face was
framed, no surrounded, by a mass of brilliant platinum blond tresses. The
slightest movement of my head resulted in a gorgeous eruption of light and
cascading platinum curls. It was gorgeous, if only it wasn’t on me, I mean,
if only it wasn’t my hair!

“Check out your nails!” cried a delighted Sam.

For some reason I looked at my toenails first, they are brilliantly
candy-pink colored. Immediately I see my new fingernails from the corner of
my eye. In mounting horror I hold them up for closer inspection. They are
horrendous! Each nail continues from where my natural nail finished a
repulsive full half an inch. Worse, on each vivid pink nail is a mildly
pornographic image of a woman holding a different suggestive pose on each
nail. Closer inspection reveals that the accurately sprayed rendering is of
me. The enormous platinum locks confirm that it is intended to be me lying
holding my legs wide open up in the air. It is me on all fours with a hand
`fondling’ my ass, it’s me sucking on the large dildo, and it’s me holding
my enormous breasts up for review. I’m way too shocked to think to comment
on the amazing detail on each nail, and my eyes are only pulled from my
nails by catching myself brushing back a stray lock of hair that fell over
my eyes. I realize with a start what an obviously feminine reflex it is.

Jim, of course, also does not fail to recognize it as such. “Did you see
that?” he shouts, “Did you see her brush her bangs from her eyes? Man, that
is such a sissy thing to do!”

Unfortunately Gloria had also seen me do it and quickly joined Sam in
turning the screws down a little tighter on my rapidly decreasing
masculinity.

“You know Candy, I think you’re enjoying this. I think you like being made
to look like a hot sissy slut. I suppose that way you figure you’ll be able
to attract lots of me, then you can suck on their big hard cocks, and let
them fuck you up your tight little virgin sissy-pussy. Is that what you
think Candy? Go on tell your Auntie Gloria. Tell Auntie Gloria that’s what
you think and that’s what you want to do, go on tell Auntie!”

Sam threatened to back hand me as I started to lower my head in shame,
planning to mumble some response, “Now you tell your nice Auntie Gloria
what she wants, and you make sure you do it loud and clear, and in your
best voice.”

I again avoided pain by giving him what he wanted, my pride. “Yes Auntie
Gloria. Thank you so much for making Candy look such a sissy slut, now
Candy can attract lots of men. Then Candy can suck on their big hard cocks
and let them fuck Candy up her virgin sissy-pussy.”

“Now then Candy,” interrupted Sam, “your sissy-pussy’s not really a virgin
is it? Tell Auntie Gloria why not.”

Being sure to maintain an acceptable pose and volume, I told them all what
I thought Sam wanted me to say. “No, that’s right Master Sam,” this
elicited more laughter from the girls and those spectators still close
enough to hear, “Candy currently has a large butt plug up her virgin
sissy-pussy.”

“And who’s plug is it Candy?” quizzed an evilly smiling Sam.

“It’s Candy’s butt plug Master Sam.”

“And you have many more toys, don’t you Candy. Tell us exactly what toys
you own.”

God this was so hard to do. “Candy has two vibrators, one eight inches long
and shaped exactly like a big black cock, the other is much smaller and is
silver. Candy also owns three butt plugs shaped like penises. One small,
the medium one is in Candy’s sissy-pussy now, and one even larger one. And
Candy also owns a string of beads, and a vibrating artificial vagina.”

“Oh that must be for you to practice licking pussy on!” roared Sam.

After much more humiliating recitals of my peculiar sexual peccadilloes as
I was `permitted’ to supply a further show highlight, by putting my seamed
stockings back on, in clear view of the main mall walkway. Sam and Jim
temporarily tired of poking fun at me so ordered that I pay Gloria and
Monica, being sure to tip them each handsomely. We were on our way back in
to the mall.

Part 6. Made Up:

Our next port of call was at the cosmetics counter of a large department
store.

“How can I help you… you… young men?” she guessed as she studied me
closely for evidence of my true gender.

“Well thank you Miss. The truth is my sissy friend Alan, I’m sorry, I mean
my sissy faggot friend Candy here, needs to buy a complete set of make
up. Everything from lip-gloss to eyelashes, to blusher, to that tan muck
you spread all over the face… you know? The works.”

The girl could only stare incredulously at me. “Is that true?” she asked in
amazement, “I mean do you, do you really want me to help you choose out a
complete set of cosmetics for you?”

“Yes” I mumbled, and then as Sam shot me another look, louder, “Yes please
Miss, Candy would love for you to help her choose some makeup.”

“Well OK then… ahh, what look do you want?”

Sam interrupted her “Oh we think something really vampish. You know
something like those women in that movie `Boogey Nights’. You seen that
one?”

“Well… yes I have, but that was based in the seventies, it’s an awfully
slutty look, perhaps we could…”

Sam cut her short again “Yes that’s what she, I mean HE, wants. You want to
look really slutty don’t you Candy? You know. Tell the nice young lady how
you want to be a real slut so that you can attract all the men. Go on tell
her.”

This was continuously getting worse. Now I had to ask a perfect stranger to
advise me on the right cosmetics to make me look a complete slut. “Yes
please Miss, Candy wants to look really slutty to attract all the men.”

“Oh and Candy, be sure to hold your sign up where everybody can see it” he
passed me my billboard.

The sales assistant hesitated briefly before she realized the commission
available from such a sale and her tone became cold and courteous. After
all, it meant nothing to her who bought the stuff; “OK, then walk this
way… uh Miss Candy” she sneered.

I was led to a high chair besides the `Wet `n’ Wild’ cosmetics
stand. Figures Sam would deliberately pick out the booth with the most
garish selection seemingly specifically targeted at rambunctious teenagers
seeking to shock the establishment through wearing too much loud cosmetics.

I climbed up upon the seat, being sure to position my sign clearly upon my
lap as instructed, trying to ignore the comments and stares of the
passersby. I couldn’t help both rejoicing on the relief the chair provided
my feet and cursing the damned butt plug forced deep up inside me again. I
realized that once again I had been maneuvered to the seat most publicly
situated. As the sales lady plied my face and carried on a running
commentary about what each lotion, creme and ointment would do for my
complexion, and how best to apply them, Sam and Jim took off for another
part of the store. As Abigail, I learned from her badge, smothered my
smooth face with a base of something unpleasant smelling, I thought about
escape. This was the first time I had been allowed out of the brother’s
sight, if I was to run, it would have to be now, but where? Sam had my car
and house keys, and my wallet. I had no where to go, and no way to get
there. I realized that once again I had no choice but to play along with
them, and just hope I escaped or they lost interest, before any lasting
damage was done to my body or my mental state. So I sat still and Abigail
did her job.

Finally, Abigail was finishing up her masterpiece, having plucked my
eyebrows back in to thin high arches, having glued enormously thick and
heavy false eyelashes to both the top and bottom natural lashes. She had
meticulously traced a pouting outline with a dark lipliner around my lips,
before filling in the spaces with a dazzling scarlet lipstick, which was
then smothered in a sickly tasting gloss. My blue eyes were high lighted by
the combination of the thick masscared eyelashes, dark blue kohl pencil
outlining, complete with a large Egyptian tick at the far corners. The
shimmering eyelids above them also further accentuated them. A combination
of bright blue, pink and brown eyeshadow, all three were heavily dosed with
gold glitter, served to light up my eyes. A too heavy brush of pink blush
completed my transformation from happy man, to sultry reluctant sissy. And
all this was framed by my dazzlingly eye-catching mass of tightly curled
and flowing platinum blond tresses. There was no way you could look in to
my face and think anything other than sexy looking slut. All trace of Alan
Borne was gone.

The return of Sam and Jim coincided with Abigail bagging way too many pots,
jars, tubes, sticks and bottles of makeup in to two full size plastic
bags. There were lipsticks ranging from pale pink, through blood red to
mauve, nail polish including turquoise and lime green, and eyeshadow in
almost every garish color known to man.

Sam handed me back my wallet, commenting “We must get you a pretty purse
Candy, that way you’ll have somewhere to carry your makeup, pocket book and
toys…” The last part worried me, toys?

“Here.” He said as he passed me another full carrier bag, “we got you some
perfume. You’d better put some on now.” He opened the bag and removed a
large bottle of Coco, by Chanel. “This has always been a favorite of
mine. Here you go.” And with that he proceeded to drench me in the sickly
perfume, applying way too much.

Stinking like brothel I paid Abigail, I was horrified to find that the
total for my makeover and carry out was in excess of $450!

Worse, Sam insisted I give Abigail a $30 tip. This could get expensive for
me real quick; it wasn’t like I was rolling in cash to start with.

Ignoring my pleas to let me please use the bathroom, we set off back in to
the mall at a dizzying pace. To keep up, and still walk in a manner
approved by my young Masters, I had to practically jog along behind them
with tiny little mincing steps. The effect was spectacular, my heels rained
out a staccato beat on the hard tile floor, and my breasts were jumping up
and down all over the place. Such was the way they were bouncing,
practically unfettered, inside my tight pink sweater, there was a very real
threat of my accidentally ejecting a water filled condom out from my
visible bra and on to the floor for everyone to see.

Part 7. Clothes:

My bladder was full to overflowing, and I was finally able to persuade Jim
to let me go to the bathroom. I had not realized that he had purposefully
waited for the mall’s busiest lunch period, and was shocked when he refused
me entry to the gents, where I was heading on autopilot. Where you think
you’re going Candy? That’s your bathroom over there.” He was pointing to
the long line outside the ladies toilets.

I was forced to stand inline, never having felt more an imposter in my
life, and enter that sacrilegious area off limits to every man. As I stood
waiting patiently inline, I could hear the thinly veiled comments as to my
`disgusting’ state of dress, and questions as to what kind of slut would
dress like that for a trip to a crowded mall. I could not get out of there
quick enough, and was actually relieved to get back to Jim and Sam.

We moved on to a large store which appeared to specialize in clothes and
accessories for teenage girls, while Sam escorted me to a young bored
looking sales assistant, Jim went off to check out the stores collection of
jewelry. Heaving the two heavy bags of cosmetics with me, I moved to stand
the approved distance behind Master Jim as he addressed the
assistant. “Hello Miss. I wonder if you would be so kind as to help my
friend Alan, say hello Alan, say hello to… ” He leaned over the counter
to read her name tag, “say hello to Vivica.”

“Hello Vivica.”

Vivica’s mouth dropped open in amazement as she stared open mouthed as this
vision of blond beauty was revealed to be a man! Her pretty face changed,
instantly, in to a sneer of contempt. “You pervert! What are you? Sick or
something?”

“Well yes he is Vivica” interrupted Sam, “You see he gets off being treated
really badly by strangers in public places. Isn’t that true Candy, tell the
nice Miss Vivica how you love it when someone like her treats you like the
piece of shit you are. Tell her how happy you’d be if she would dress you
like the little slut you long to be, and be sure to mention what a big
tipper you are.”

“Yes, it’s true Miss Vivica, Candy would love it if you would be so kind as
to help me pick out some dresses…”

“Go on Candy” hissed Sam.

“Please Miss Vivica, help dress Candy like the little slut she wants so
badly to be, you can treat me like shit.” I practically begged the bitch.

Her face lit up as she realized what an opportunity for my total
humiliation she was being presented with. “Well, since you asked so nicely
Candy, I would be happy to make your shopping experience a living
hell. Come on slut, let’s go get you dressed.”

For the next fifty minutes I was forced to parade in and out of the
dressing rooms in a fantastic collection of lingerie, catsuits, micro-mini
skirts and dresses, tube tops, incredibly tight Capri pants and hot pants.
With every item, no matter how small or revealing, and I knew for a fact
that Miss Vivica was showing me nothing of an evenly vaguely conservative
nature, every little item had to be worn outside the changing room for a
public display. Each piece of clothing was modeled for the purposes of
further degrading me, and for the pleasure of Sam, Jim, Vivica, and any
passersby’s. I was forced to twirl, bend over, sit with my legs crossed,
uncrossing and recrossing them time and time again, any position that would
possibly cause me any more humiliation. Then it was back to the changing
room for the next skimpy little outfit, as Sam and Jim told Vivica which
items I would be buying, all to frequently ordering the item in a size
smaller than that which I had already had trouble squeezing myself into.

As the `sweet Miss Vivica’ was folding my purchases prior to packing them
in to yet more bags for me to carry, she commented to Sam, “You know I have
a friend who would be most interested in meeting young Miss `Thing’ here?”

“Really” I could tell Sam’ interest was piqued.

“Yeah, his names Tyrone and he takes great pleasure in little sissies like
Candy here. Mind you, I should warn you he’s over six foot-six and three
hundred pounds.”

“Oh that’s OK, I think it important that Candy here broadens her horizons!”

“Good then. Here let me get Candy’s number, I’ll have Ty call her. He can
introduce her around the LA DOM/sub scene… as well as a very personal
introduction to over eleven inches of solid Negro man meat!”

While I reeled in horror at her words, both Sam and Jim thought it
hysterically funny. “What do you say to that Candy, looks like `Y’o gonna
be some big ol’ Nigger’s bitch’. Just think of it, a hulking great black
man holding you tightly and forcing his enormous manhood up your little
sissy-pussy. We gotta get you home so that we can move you up a size in
plugs.”

“Maybe we ought to stop off on the way and pick up a few other toys for
little Miss Candy!” jeered Jim.

With this new threat hanging over my head, I was made to give Vivica my
home and business numbers so she could pass them on to her friend Tyrone.

My next pleasure was the shoe shop in the center of the mall. As we entered
a young man, more a boy really, came over to ask how he could help us. Sam
explained that I was here to buy some `come-fuck-me-pumps’. The boy’s eyes
nearly popped out of his sockets as he checked me out in my tiny little
costume.

He regained his composure enough to have me sit and measure my feet, all
the while sneaking not too conspicuous glances up my long legs. He
disappeared to the back of the store to fetch some shoes and Sam took this
opportunity to order me “I want you to flirt with the k**, you know let him
see right up your skirt, and use your feet to feel his dick up.”

He returned carrying three boxes and proceeded to fit me with the most
hideously heeled shoes I had ever seen. These comprised of one pair with
towering six inch heels covered with rhinestones, another pair of six
inchers in black patent leather with an ankle strap with a large gold
buckle, and a final pair of red leather Mules with a paltry five inch heel.

I obediently allowed him an uninterrupted view up my long legs, past my
bright red garter belt and all the way to my tiny turquoise G-string. As he
fitted the first of the shoes, the red Mules, I obediently slid my other
foot down to his crotch, trying to ignore the fact that my skirt
consequently slid further up my thighs. He jumped as my black nylon clad
foot found his growing erection and proceeded to massage it through the
shiny polyester of his pants.

Each pair had to be tried on and modeled by me before young Pete would
slowly remove them and fit the next pair, all the while massaging my nylon
clad foot as I rubbed his tool with my painted toes. When we finally left,
with all three pairs, Pete was sporting an embarrassing dark spot and I had
a damp foot and bright red face.

Finally, we were done shopping. Struggling under the load of bags
containing over $1,900 of skirts, dresses, blouses, lingerie, shoes and
cosmetics, and with my billboard sign taped to my sleazily gyrating ass, I
wiggled my way after my tormentors, out to the car park.

Part 8. Eric & Porn:

True to his word, Jim made us stop at a large adult shop about two miles
from my house. I was forced to go inside, look everything over, while being
sure to bend over in a most provocative manner, with the br