Antique Shopping
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Antique Store free porn video
Antique Store
This story is dedicated to all of us who are tired of everyone
transforming into young buxom beauties. We old-timers who think a 26
inch waist is mission impossible. And want to watch Roseanne Barr
snap Pamela Anderson Lee in half on prime-time TV.
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Copyright 2000 by Samantha Michelle.
Permission given to post on FictionMania, C-Sprite, and Sapphires.
Please send comments to [email protected]
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All I did was try to help a couple of older, oddly-dressed ladies get
their shop door closed in a cloudburst. The wind had caught it and
sprung the hinges, and rain was blowing inside. I had just dropped in
at a neighboring shop-and-rob to pick up a candy bar, not like I
really needed the calories. I was the only one in the parking lot.
When I saw them fighting with the door and wind, I realized that at
nine on a Saturday evening, and this being a three-day holiday, they'd
probably never find a repairman before they were flooded. So I
grabbed some of the ever-present tools out of my truck, and ignoring
the cold driving rain, slowly managed to bend things back into some
semblance of their original form. I was checking the fit, with them
pulling it closed from the inside, when there was a really strong gust
of wind, and a metallic ripping sound from above me.
A deluge of foul-smelling water and goo knocked me to my knees.
Shaking the stuff off my face, I realized the building's antique
down-spout system had failed, and nailed me with gallons of dead
leaves, bugs, and probably pigeon droppings. I managed to find a
clean rivulet coming off a canopy, and when I could see, noticed my
glasses had been washed off. I rinsed and rinsed and finally started
to peel off as much clothing as was socially acceptable trying to
clean myself off when I found I was shivering. Hard. One of the
ladies called through he rain telling me to come inside. When I made
it inside the door I was immediately wrapped in a large towel, and
pushed towards the rear of their shop.
"We've a shower in the back of the shop." She looked at me. "My
goodness, you are going to catch your death of cold..." I both shook
and nodded my head, because my teeth were chattering too hard to say
anything. They shoved me, clothes, towel, and all, into the warm
shower. I managed to slowly peel off what was left of my reeking
clothes and set them and the towel outside the shower. Several
washings with a bar of perfumed soap and some type of weird shampoo,
and I was both clean and no longer shivering. Or at least not
shivering as much.
An "Oh good, you're finished," from right outside the shower curtain
reminded me that I was now both sans culottes and without a towel. I
almost screamed when the curtain was pulled back and one of the women
handed me another towel.
"Hey!" was all I managed as I tried to grab the towel while covering
myself. My somewhat overweight, 40's something body wasn't that good
anyway.
"Don't sweat it dearie, I've been through two husbands and six kids.
If I haven't seen it or washed it, you haven't got it." That did not
help a lot as I pulled the curtain closed and quickly dried off.
Wrapping the towel around me, I opened the curtain to find all three
of them standing there. The tallest of the three handed me a mug of
hot cocoa. That did help. What surprised me was they were all dressed
like something out of the turn of the century. The nineteenth
century.
I tried to remember what type of store this was, but it didn't
register. They sat me down in a big, padded chair at a table in a
back room, pulled up chairs for themselves, and profusely thanked me
for fixing their door. They also apologized repeatedly for my getting
doused in what one of them described as smelling like old chicken guts
in a hog wallow. Suddenly my brain restarted, and I asked about my
clothes.
"Made sure there weren't nothin left in the pockets and tossed them,
braces and all, in the trash bin. Ain't nothin that'll ever get 'em
clean, short 'a burnin." The smallest lady, who looked a bit like
granny Clampett off the TV show, was speaking. "'Sides, ain't none of
us going nowhere nohow, least for a while, 'cause while you was
clean'n up the firemen came by and told us both bridges o'r Delany
Creek's been washed out."
It took a minute to sink in. At least I knew we were on high ground.
And I realized with a start that without my glasses I couldn't drive
anyway. I stared at them. Then the lights flickered and went out.
When the emergency lights kicked on, I could see they were smiling.
"Don't worry about a thing. We've got plenty of food and candles and
such-like." This from the tall one who found a flashlight, and soon
returned with a small candelabra and matches.
The smallest one spoke up again "Darn it, Fergot my manners. I'm
Maybel, the pretty gal on my right is Jesse, and the big'n that found
the candles is Nellie." Both smiled at me. Maybel looked at me, and
winked. "Since we been a bit closer than ladies and gents should
afore introducing, what's yer name?"
"Sam, Sam Michaels." I wondered if I had accidentally found a halfway
house of some kind. I started to shiver again, and realized that the
damp towel was not keeping me warm.
Nellie broke in. Her "I think we need to find Sam here some clothes
before he catches cold" sent Jessie off with a flashlight. Instead of
clothes, she returned with a tape measure. I stared at it, and her.
"This is a clothing store, among other things, and I can't tell what
size you are without taking measurements." When I told her my sizes,
she shrugged, saying they wouldn't help her at all. I wound up being
measured like a dressmakers dummy. I started to feel like one. A
dummy, that is.
The three of them were looking over the measurements and mumbling to
themselves. Nellie asked me to stand back up and examined my pudgy
chest and waist. Although I was still shivering, I started to feel
embarrassingly warm. They conferred again, and Jessie headed off
with the flashlight. Nelly broke out more candles, and showed me to a
dressing room. She put the candles and their holders on a shelf and
told me to wait. I was left staring at myself and the towel in one of
the corner mirrors. I realized that I had not brushed out my hair,
and cringed at the thought of trying to keep what little I had while
removing the tangles.
Two knocks on the door, and Maybel handed me a neatly folded pile of
clothes. I could hear giggling and a faint "he's gonna need help" as
I closed the door. When I checked quickly through the clothes, I knew
why they were giggling. It was a complete women's outfit, from the
skin out, circa the eighteen-ninety's.
My "Ahh, nice joke, but how about something that will fit me?" got an
unexpected response.
"Those are your size."
"You know what I mean."
"Sorry, dearie, but this is a women's boutique, and well, those are
the least frilly we could find in your size." There was a pause "And
it's those, a towel, or your birthday suit. And they're a lot warmer
than a towel."
I looked the clothes over again. The long bloomers, or pantaloons, at
least that's what I think they were, and the several long slips seemed
innocuous enough, and I was surprised how soft they felt. The dress
and under-dress were of a soft, very heavy cotton, but there was no
way I was going to get them around my middle. Then a little birdie
told me why there was a long, heavy item I had not unrolled. When I
unwrapped it, I was staring at a corset. A very large corset.
This did not look good at all. I was certain that I had fallen into a
loony bin, and was trapped with some of their inmates. Nellie's
chuckling "Let me guess, you can't get dressed by yourself" didn't
help. Escape did not seem likely either. Not in this weather,
dressed in a towel.
I pulled on the bloomers, and found they had a hook-and-eye inner
panel that held my privates close to my body. I was surprised at how
comfortable they were. I was not used to soft cotton all the way to
the ankles. Deciding that I had better humor them before they became
violent, I swallowed and opened the door. "I seem to be unable put
these on in the proper manner..." They all giggled, and motioned me out
of the room.
I felt like a bloomered idiot. I never realized how many layers of
clothes women used to wear. Realizing the three of them were probably
dressed the same way was no consolation. Nellie's "Well, he got the
first piece right," sounded bad.
Shortly I was wearing one of the slips, and they had wrapped the
corset around me, hooking it in the front, laces at the back. It
covered me from armpits to crotch. When they said "Take a deep
breath, and grab the bar over the door" I was afraid it might be my
last. Nellie had taken three sets of laces and was puling from one
side, and Jessie had done the same, pulling from the other. I felt
many years of good living being squeezed up, down, and in. Several
long tugs later, I realized that I was standing very, very straight,
and was surprised I could still breathe. I felt ridiculous.
Jessie measured me with the tape, grinned, and said "just two more
inches.." I gaped at her like a fish, and she signaled the other two
to start again. It took then quite a while, pulling in a little at a
time, until Jessie told them to stop. I wanted to scream that I was
being squashed, but I could not get that much air. Her tape must have
been happy, because they wrapped the many feet of lacing around me,
and tied it off in the back. They then fastened two wide straps over
my shoulders to some clips in front, and moment later my shoulders
were drawn straight back, until I had the posture of a British palace
guard. Their "You can let go now," caused me to lower my arms slowly.
I had never felt anything like it. I thought it would hurt. Rather,
it felt kind of good, sort of like a tight full-body hug. When I
looked at myself in the mirror by candle-light, I had to make sure it
was me that I was watching. What I saw looked just like one of the
many pictures in my history books of a matronly woman dressed in her
corset. What surprised me was that I seemed to have grown breasts. I
reached down, and found that between the corset and my pudgy chest,
which had always gotten me teased, I now had a formidable bosom. I
strutted for a moment, and then realized what I was doing. I crossed
my arms across my protruding chest. They had started to laugh.
"Seems Samantha likes the way she looks." I tried to sit in nearby
chair, and found that in a corset, one does it carefully. The bottom
of the corset had jabbed me painfully in a most-sensitive area.
Once seated, I started shaking my head. "I can't believe I'm letting
you do this to me." Then it dawned that they had called me Samantha.
"Hey, I'm not a woman. Samantha's a woman's name..."
"At this point you look a lot more like a Samantha, so quit
complaining and let's finish getting you dressed." All I could do was
nod. Even if I had planned on trying to escape, the corset didn't
leave me enough air.
Adding a second slip, they pulled the under-dress on, and buttoned it
down the back. It had a hidden, stiff collar that forced my head up.
Then came the dress itself. Five minutes later it was buttoned in
place. I had been getting more used to the corset, and realized that
for the first time in years my back wasn't giving me grief. I tried
to walk, and almost tripped over the hem, which was dragging on the
floor. Maybel's "Oops, fergot shoes" broke the silence. They
carefully sat me back down, and I only got a little jab.
I felt them pull up the legs of the pantaloons, and pull some thin
socks over my feet. Then they made me stand on one of those little
measuring gadgets. Finally, they sat me down, this time on a tall
stool. My eyes bugged out when I saw what Maybel was expecting me to
wear. They were calf-high boots. I managed a breathless "Hey, wait a
minute, those things have three-inch heels," was not ignored.
"They're four inches, and the only pair we got that'll fit yer
gunboats, 'lessen you want these." She pulled out a pair of bright
pink spikes that made my stomach curdle.
Soon I was standing really tall, trying to balance in the very tight,
stiff boots. I realized that twisting an ankle was unlikely. The
boots had metal reinforcements.
Nellie went and got several more candles, and when they had managed a
reasonable level of illumination, Jessie got a brush, sat be down on
the stool, and started working slowly on my hair. It felt really
good, and I quit worrying about losing more to tangles. When they
told me to close my eyes, I complied, as I had run low on energy and
figured that whatever they did, as long as I lived though it, really
didn't matter any more.
That was before Maybel loosened the upper part of the dress, the
corset straps and underdress, and pulled the slip down over the top of
the corset. Several towels were tucked into the clothes. Her "hold
still, I've ne're done this by candlelight. And keep yer mouth shut"
made me stiffen. I felt a thick cream being carefully smeared over
most of my face, neck, shoulders, and upper back and chest. A few
minutes later it started to itch, and she told me that I needed at
least a few more minutes. When I started trying to wriggle because it
was beginning to burn, someone took damp cloths and wiped every bit of
it off, rinsing me several times.
This was followed by some sort of soothing lotion. It had been a long
time since someone massaged my face like this, and I started to make
happy noises. That got a giggle or two, but they continued.
My skin felt cool, and sort of funny. They pulled and buttoned
everything back into place. Reminding me too keep my eyes and mouth
closed, and hold very still, I felt someone pulling out individual
eyebrow hairs.
"Wait just a minute. I know what you are doing this time." I felt
whoever was doing it back off.
'Sorry dearie, but ya need some work. It won't make ya look funny, so
quit worryin'." I put my hands up to protect my face and looked at
Maybel.
My "Unh unh, no way..." caused Nelly to shrug, and she went to get
something. Jessie was behind me, still working on my hair. Maybel
seemed to be amused by my actions. Nellie returned and joined Jessie.
A sharp swat on my bottom with the brush made me reach around behind
me with both hands. I was unable to respond fast enough when she
handcuffed me. With the corset on I could barely move my arms at all.
"Now you sit there and close yer eyes, 'cause I want to do this
right." Not like I had much choice anymore. I wondered if the police
checked this place regularly. At least I was warm and dry. It was
not much of a consolation. Just before it seemed I would have nothing
left, she finished, and began putting makeup on. I felt her carefully
remove my earrings, something I had done years back, and had kept in
because I loved the feeling of them swinging as I walked. They were
replaced by really big, heavy, dangly ones that jingled. They felt
really nice, almost erotic. It was the first thing I didn't mind.
I began to wonder if I could afford to disappear for a while 'till
things grew back. If I lived through it. I hoped they were finished,
They weren't. I felt them put a long, soft wig on my head, and
secure it all over by weaving my hair into it, and adding hairpins at
the edges.
When they stood me back up, I was wondering of there was a noose
waiting. They turned me around, and told me if I would behave they
would take off the handcuffs. In the heels I was about as
maneuverable as a packing box, so they were not giving up much. I
nodded, and soon was rubbing my wrists.
"Now open yer eyes, dearie."
I blinked, but the candlelight was low enough that it did not affect
my sight. They were standing in front of me. Nellie was twirling the
handcuffs like she had done this before. Her "turn around" caused me
to face the mirrors.
They had to rush and grab me before I collapsed to the floor. I had
expected to look like a clown, or a guy in a dress, one of those
weirdos that were sometimes found on TV talk shows. Instead, staring
back at me was a stout, buxom, middle-aged woman with long graying
hair. A proud woman who would have been perfectly at home in a
horse-drawn carriage or manor house a hundred years ago. It was when
I realized there was no sign of the dumpy, middle-aged professor I had
been a couple of hours before that I got dizzy.
With their smiling help I managed to stagger to the stool. "Easy,
dearie, it takes a bit 'o time to get used to breathing right, and to
walk in them shoes." I nodded, but my mind was still spinning. "And
yer look so much better than yer did earlier." I nodded again. I
didn't want to admit it, but I actually liked the way I looked and
felt. I slowly got back up, and started to walk back and forth in
front of the mirror. I found that by letting my hips roll and swing
with each step, I moved easily, and the swishing of the skirts was
sensuous. So were the earrings and continuous hug of the corset. I
reached up and fondled my breasts, which were full and more sensitive
than I had ever felt, then blushed when I realized they were watching.
Nellie spoke up "Well, Samantha, I think you like dressing like a
lady." I tried to deny it, but wound up grinning shyly.
"It, it's like I'm a different person." The corset made me speak in a
breathless voice that was almost feminine. I swished the long skirts
around me. "But I'm not supposed to like it. And, dammit, it's
getting me aroused..." That got a peal of laughter started.
Shortly we were sitting, stiffly, around the table in the back room,
sipping on sodas, and nibbling on some delicious imported chocolates.
Jessie remarked that they could be written off to storm damage. The
others agreed. I was still skittish, but felt like I belonged the way
I was, at least for the moment. I knew it wasn't hypoxia, as I could
still breathe reasonably well. A battery operated clock said it was
four AM, and the wind was still howling. Nellie pulled several large
comforters and a pile of blankets off a shelf, and by piling cushions
on the floor soon had a sleeping area.
When they started to undress each other, I stood to the side. "Hey,
join in, it goes faster." I wound up helping Jessie. Soon we were
all down to corsets and undergarments. I found myself staring
hungrily at them. Each had a small, firmly corseted waist and proudly
displayed breasts. The display got better when they removed their
slips. They looked soft and womanly, not virginal. And all of them
had hard, aroused nipples. They were chuckling. I looked down and
saw why. Even in the slip and pantaloons I was creating quite a
bulge. Something I had done little of in recent years. I tried to
cover myself, and Nellie reached over and waived the handcuffs at me.
I quit trying.
Maybel and Jessie pulled off their bloomers from under their slips,
and when Nellie handed one of them the handcuffs, she did the same.
They motioned to me to do likewise. I think we didn't need the
candles. My blush was probably brighter. I discovered I couldn't
reach them. The corset would not let me bend enough. So I had to
stand there while they pulled them off. I was very sure that they
brushed me intentionally. The thin slip now resembled a tent. I
hurt.
It took two of them to lower me onto the cushions. When they rolled
me on my back, they had to pull the slip down. Nellie and Jessie took
a flashlight and went to get something. Maybel told me to stretch my
arms out to the sides, and relax, and began to massage my feet. It
felt so good I was afraid I was going to make a mess of the slip
before the others returned. On of them lifted my head and massaged my
neck, and I felt something hard and padded slipped behind me. Maybel
moved up to my knees, and I forgot about the other two, which was a
bad move.
A moment later my wrists were secured wide apart to some kind of
wooden bar they had put under me, and when I started to protest a big,
soft leather plug was pushed into my mouth. They then put a wide,
padded strap around my neck, securing me to whatever was holding my
arms, and I felt them connect the leather thing to it also. In the
corset I couldn't sit up, and the bar prevented me from rolling over.
One they were certain I was breathing properly, I lay there watching
them whispering to each other, and pointing at me. Although I
couldn't look down, I knew the tent was wiggling. Which made it
worse.
They covered me with a comforter and a blanket, then disappeared out
of my view. I wasn't uncomfortable at all, just immobile. They had
tucked the bar down into the cushions, so unless I pulled at it, there
was no pressure of any kind. I closed my eyes and tried to
consciously relax. It worked too well.
I barely heard them return. When they pulled my legs wide apart, and
fastened them to something similar to what was holding my arms I got
hard again. I felt like a Christmas turkey. I looked at them, and
almost swallowed the plug. Maybel and Jessie were strapping Nellie's
arms together behind her in what looked like a huge glove with
shoulder straps. When they were finished, her arms touched from wrist
to elbow, and her shoulders were drawn sharply back. They turned her
around, and I saw she was blindfolded and had a wide leather strap
across her mouth. Putting one and one together, I figured she was
gagged the way I was.
I watched, fascinated, as her heavy breasts, thrust out by having her
shoulders drawn back, swung with every move. Maybel brought over an
overstuffed chair, positioning it where I could see the back. A moment
later they had bent Nellie over the back, and had tied her feet to the
rear legs. Then they seemed to be tying her hands to something. This
left her more than ample bottom fully exposed, with her body held
rigidly horizontal by the corset and glove. Out came the hairbrushes,
and up went the slip. Although I really needed my glasses, there
was no question she was aroused. I was surprised she could walk as
swollen as she was.
They began with light swats, and occasional caresses that made her
quiver. When they really began to swing, her bottom was turning
bright red and bouncing rhythmically. She seemed to be trying to
force her thighs together, and they would stop, caress her a bit, then
continue. When they stopped she was moaning and grinding herself
against the chair. She was so wet she glistened.
They untied her, and she stood unsteadily. When she tried to get her
legs together, a really sharp swat stopped her. Maybel came over to
me, and patted the tent. I arched up. She and Jessie then lifted my
hips and shoved a thick cushion under my butt. This began to look
familiar, but I was so aroused I think I would have cooperated with
anything. Not that I had any choice. Shortly I found myself with
Nellie on her knees straddling me, just above my penis. When she
tried to lower herself, she got another swat. She had an amazing
bottom, and thick, curly bush that quivered. A dripping wet bush.
I watched out of the corner of my eyes as Jessie put Maybel into a
similar contraption, and reached beneath her slip to massage her. A
blindfold and plug that looked too big to fit her mouth were added and
secured. The next maneuver was weird. Jessie lay her, face down, with
her feet by my head. Then she lifted the bar, moved some cushions,
and pulled Maybel's feet under the bar to my shoulders. She then
motioned me to be quiet, and slowly removed my gag. I saw it was much
smaller than Maybel's With a grunt, she lifted Maybel by the glove,
and sat her up, which planted her bush firmly on my mouth. This I
understood. A moment later I felt Nellie being impaled on my penis.
She was heavy, but amazingly tight.
The next couple of hours were something out of an under-the counter
novel. For an old guy who could rarely get it up, I was playing
superman. I don't think Maybel was multi-orgasmic. Continuously
orgasmic, maybe. The gag had left me with a dry mouth. Maybel sure
didn't. Nellie had really talented muscles, managing to make me come
twice to her innumerable times. The first took five minutes. The
second took an hour. As Jessie was pulling them limply off me, I
fell asleep.
I woke up warm and unfettered except for the corset, sandwiched
between two corseted, sleeping women. My jaw and tongue ached. My
hips ached. And I felt better than I had in a long time. I wrapped
my arms around the one in front, and went back to sleep. I woke the
second time alone under the covers. I could smell hot cocoa, and
noticed the lights were back on. The clock said 2:30. That meant it
was already afternoon.
A "Glad t'see yer decided to join us" caused me to try and sit up.
Not in a corset. I had to roll over and lift myself, tucking my legs
under me. They were all dressed, and sitting at the table. I managed
to stand. Maybel's "I think yer need to brush yer teeth," caused them
to giggle. I just smiled and headed for the washroom. After more
pressing matters were settled, I noticed there was a new toothbrush
waiting for me.
I managed to scrub the smudged makeup off, and carefully remove the
evidence of last night's activities from my face, teeth, and nether
regions. When I emerged, they helped me put on the pantaloons, and in
a little while I was dressed and made up like before. But this time I
helped. I guess the guy that ran the stop-and-rob was marooned also,
because they had tracked down some bread and lunchmeat. I was
starved, but one large sandwich and I was full. "Corset" clicked.
Someone banged on the front door, and a minute later Maybel escorted a
harried looking trooper to the back. I was scared silly, but he
seemed not to notice me. When he told us that it looked like it would
be at least until Wednesday before they would have one of the bridges
repaired. I groaned. The others giggled. When he asked if we needed
to be evacuated, they loudly declined, saying they had plenty of food,
and were going to have a washout party. I started to say something
when one of them kicked me hard in the shin. I winced, and he gave me
a funny look. Maybel escorted him out, and I heard her lock the door.
By Wednesday I was totally worn out. I didn't know there were that
many ways to make love. Or resurrect the dead. Maybel was part
vacuum cleaner. With an attitude. And it wasn't just kinky stuff.
Corrugated, weird, and insane, probably. I loved it. I felt like a
hormone-soaked teenager again. But I had never had this much fun back
then.
It turned out Maybel was a widow, Nellie was divorced, and Jessie was
a lesbian, which made for some interesting pairings. It took being
tied up, gagged, and gloved, with her legs spread, but Jessie finally
admitted that I had a talented tongue. She didn't have much option.
Her quivering grunts told the whole story. It was not my choice. I
was as trussed up as she was. And Maybel had a hairbrush to make sure
I didn't stop.
Nellie drove me home dressed in a skirt and sweater. And the corset.
Once inside, we spent several hours in bed. God, I loved fondling
her breasts. And she loved for me to fondle them. We returned with
me dressed in my own clothes, wearing glasses. I realized I looked
rather strange with the high, thin eyebrows. Another part of me
wanted to put a skirt on. And I missed the corset.
That was almost a year ago. These days I wear a corset, much tighter
than the first one, all the time. I've lost almost fifty pounds, and
feel like I'm thirty again. I'm also just as likely to be found as
Samantha rather than Sam. Nine months ago at Nellie's urging, I
started on a low dose of hormones, and the remaining fat has
re-distributed itself, probably with the help of the corsets, to my
chest, hips, and butt. I quickly developed big, sensitive nipples,
which the Doc said would probably be all I would grow at my age. And
they feel so, well, feminine as they jiggle.
Nellie and I tied the knot, almost literally, last month. She was
shackled under her gown. When she saw my present to her, it kept us
busy for a full week. A complete set of leather and steel shackles,
several other toys, and our "new" antique, heavy four-poster bed are
always finding new uses. Maybel and Jessie are "renting" a spare
bedroom while their place is renovated. Thanks to them, I've become
all-too-well acquainted with the toys and shackles. But I'm not
complaining. The last time I did I was stiff for a week.
-- Finis
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