The Intern free porn video

The Intern By Snow Girl This story developed as an offshoot from 'Stewardess.' Ideas that didn't fit in that one grew into their own with this. It's not that explicit, but if sexuality offends you, don't read this. This may be freely reposted to any free archive as long as it remains intact. I do read my reviews, and thank you for appreciating my stories thus far. You can also send comments, notes, or praise to [email protected] ***************************************************************************** I thought moving to Los Angeles would change my life instantly for the better. Growing up in Seattle was dull and rainy and gray and all I ever wanted was to spend my days in the sun. I was a mediocre student, average athlete, and mildly unpopular. I slipped through high school and two years of college, saving my money for a move to southern California. I had hoped to transfer into UCLA to study film, but my grades weren't good enough. Seems like I spent too much time working in greasy restaurants to keep my grades up. Still, I had an old friend who had moved to Los Angeles and she had become a fashion photographer, and she offered to help me make the transition. Susan was beautiful, five years older than me, and my first crush. I grew up next door to her and watched her mature into a sexy brunette who could have been a supermodel on the other side of the camera if she wanted to. Countless nights were spent stroking myself to orgasm... my hand wrapped around my cock, my mind wrapped around the sexy outfit she had worn that day, whether it was jeans or sexy miniskirt or a light summer dress, it all looked good on her. She came back to visit her family for the Christmas holidays, and I bombarded her with questions about Los Angeles. She told me that you don't really need a college education to get a job in the film industry. She even had a friend who owned a video production company that might even hire me. "I think you might really make something of yourself in Los Angeles. You'll find a whole new you..." she said. That was all the inspiration that I needed. A month later, I had cut my ties to Seattle, packed up my few possessions and moved to Los Angeles. I had enough money saved to get started, but getting an apartment took a hefty bite out of my savings. I was mildly worried about making it. Things started looking up, though, when Susan was able to get me an interview with her friend's production company. Fashionable Productions was run by Beth Alfani. She was in her thirties, and as tough as she was sexy. Her Italian heritage gave her deep green eyes floating above gentle cheekbones and full lips, all framed with waves of curly black hair. She wore a pair of high-heeled pumps that made her as tall as I was, and a pair of black pants and a white blouse. She wasn't just sexy, she had a presence that felt like a physical force, and I felt intimidated as I followed her into her office. I tried to look my fashionable best, but a former short-order cook from Seattle can only accomplish so much. Beth was less than impressed with me from the moment she saw me, and she grilled me mercilessly in a brief interview. Without a college degree, I was willing to do just about anything, and Beth seemed determined to test those limits. Would I answer the phones? Yes. Would I fetch coffee? Yes. Dry cleaning? Yes. Water the plants? Yes. I had the distinct feeling that the interview wasn't going well, that Beth was looking for any reason not to hire me. You'd be working primarily for women, she asked. That was fine (actually, that was a perk as far as I was concerned). You'd be taking orders from them all day...I'll do anything for the job. You'd have to learn about high fashion and models to advance here...that wouldn't be a problem. Then she looked at me with those green eyes. It felt almost like a physical invasion, her eyes peering deep into mine, her gaze seemed to reach deep into my brain, I could feel her inside my head... Would I cut my hair? Yes. Change my wardrobe to something more fashionable? Yes. Would I be dedicated to the job? Yes, yes I would. That seemed to satisfy her, and the physical presence of her gaze lifted. I was practically sweating from the grilling Beth gave me, but my perseverance paid off and she offered me a job as an intern. Interning was more difficult than I thought it would be. The pay was a joke. I worked ridiculously long hours, and all I did was answer phones, type labels, and staple photocopies. Susan was right. You really didn't need a college education to work for a video production company, I laughed to myself. Starbucks was a more mentally demanding job, but Fashionable Productions promised much more interesting work if I could stick with it. They videotaped fashion shows and set up shoots for models, usually editing those events into telelvision-friendly blurbs that aired on many cable channels. Lila, my supervisor, was demanding and harsh. Lila had long blonde hair, blue eyes, and freckles. She grew up in Iowa and looked like a beauty queen, but she was not to be trifled with. Anytime I did something wrong, I heard about it from Lila. A message taken wrong? Lila chewed me out. A package not sent out properly? Lila chewed me out. Even dressing poorly earned a chastisement from Lila. Fashion and looks were important to Fashionable Productions; that's why Beth insisted on hiring attractive women instead of men. I noticed very quickly that every woman wore high heels to the office on a daily basis. There was almost a unspoken dress code that three inch heels were the minimum, and short skirts or shoulder-baring tops were required If I wasn't so tired at the end of each day, I could have stroked off to the memory of any of the women in the office. There were only two other men in the office, and both of them were gay. Flamboyant, ears pierced, shaved heads, and mincing about the office gay. Brent, the office manager, tried flirting with me on my first day, and he turned his nose up at me when he found out I was straight. You'd think that being the only straight man in an office full of sexually attractive women would be like shooting fish in a barrel, but that was far from the reality. Beth constantly reminded me that I was there as a favor to Susan, and that I was hanging on by a thread. Susan stopped by the office from time to time, and she looked phenomenal whenever she came by. I always thought she was beautiful, but when she showed up in a sundress and heels, her hair pulled back into a braid, I almost came in my pants. All of the women in the office treated me like dirt. I was nothing more than an intruder or an unpleasant bit of grit in their high-gloss world. I tried my best to dress fashionably, to fit in, but with my intern's salary, I couldn't keep up. The office girls spent their days working and their nights club-hopping on the arms of gorgeous dates at all the hot night spots in town. They would come in the next morning and race to share their gossip with each other, and only cast dark stares at me if I ever came near one of them while they were sharing something juicy. I was an outsider, and nobody took any pains to hide that fact. All I could do was keep working and prove myself to the ladies in the office eventually. I had been answering the phones for about two months before things started to change. Lila was finally warming up to me, and the other girls in the office would at least acknowledged my presence. Even a nod from Shannon, the former receptionist, or Liz, the wardrobe coordinator, would make me happy, like I had come one step closer to becoming part of the team. One Friday afternoon, the phones had stopped ringing and the girls were lining up at the bathrooms to get ready for a big night out. Beth and Lila were chatting on the couch in the lobby. I had three hours before I was released for the night, and for me, I could have hung out in the office all night long for all I had planned. Friday just meant another night at home alone. I didn't much care for the weekends, as I didn't have the money to go out and party and I didn't have much time to make friends in the city. Susan had taken me out for drinks once or twice, just to keep my spirits up, but other than that, I was alone. I was thinking about my lonely weekend, wishing that I could go out with all of the hot women from the office, and listening to Lila complain about her shoes. "These new Jennifer Moore heels are killing me," Lila said. They were silver, with a closed toe, three straps across her foot, and one strap up over her ankle. They had a slight shine to them, and nicely accented her white tights and gray skirt. "They look wonderful on you. You should see what they do for your legs," Beth said. "Tom there has been staring at them for the last fifteen minutes." I blushed when Beth said that. I felt my cheeks burn with embarrassment, after all, I had been staring at her legs, and how sexy those shiny white tights and silvery heels looked. I wanted to look away, but I couldn't, all I could do was stare at Lila's long, curvy legs. I thought about what those shoes would be like to wear, how they would feel, what those tights felt like, and how sexy they looked... "Tom, you seem to enjoy those heels so much, why don't you try them on?" Beth's soft voice whispered inside my head. I shook my head no, and Beth's voice asked me again to wear those heels. I felt Beth's overwhelming presence drifting through my memory, recalling all the days I stared at Susan coming home next door and wishing I could wear those sexy outfits. Beth made me think about that, about all the times I wanted to wear heels... Her voice was soothing and compelling, and part of me felt those thin straps tugging around my feet. No! I wanted to respond, fighting against that nagging voice in my head. I never wanted to wear heels...Until Beth told me I did; I never wanted to wear them, didn't I? NO! I couldn't remember, but I could remember. I could remember wanting to dress up like a woman, wanting to wear Susan's sexy outfits. No. I never wanted that... it was like I was drowning in the lusts that I never had. Don't you want to wear Lila's heels, Beth's voice whispered in my mind? No... I don't want to wear Lila's high heels. NO! Beth and Lila looked at me, and my embarrassment grew when I realized I had shouted out, "No!" I didn't even know what they were talking about. Like a spell was broken, I looked up from Lila's legs, and realized with embarrassment that I really wanted to wear her heels... and more. Lila laughed, "No, what? Tom? You don't like these heels?" Lila sat up and crossed her legs to show her heels to me. Her foot was arched, and looked so delicate. Beth laughed, too. "Maybe Tom was saying 'No, those look like comfortable heels.' Maybe Tom wants to wear them for us." "That's a great idea. He should know what we go through every day to look so pretty. He obviously doesn't put any work into his appearance. Maybe if he knows what we do, he'd appreciate us more," Lila said. "Tom, Lila has a point. You dress like a mechanic, and if you want to know how things work around here, you need to try to blend in a little better. I think I have a pair like this in the wardrobe room that might fit you." Beth left that in the air as a challenge. "I don't even think he could manage a pair of these heels," Lila added. I realized they were challenging me. "Sure, I can manage them." My voice almost broke as I whispered my reply; I was trying so hard to sound cool and suave, like wearing high heels was no big deal. "You girls are always complaining about them. I can handle it." It was okay; after all, they wanted me to wear them... Lila was back in a flash with a pair of silver heels just like hers. "These might be a little too small, but if you're man enough to handle the heels, you'll be man enough to handle the pinched toes!" I had to cuff up my jeans and take off my socks. Beth wanted to get me a pair of stockings, but Lila didn't think it was necessary. "We'd just have to shave his legs, and at that point, he might as well have a skirt on." Lila laughed the idea off, but it was obvious that it was not forgotten. She knelt down in front of me and buckled a heel onto my left foot, than my right. I felt my foot flex, arching up high. Lila dragged me out of reception and into the back of the office, looking for a mirror. I stumbled to keep up, feeling my hips move differently, thrust forward, my steps shorter, the heel of my shoe landing first on each step, my foot rocking forward. By the time we reached the wardrobe storage room, five or six girls had gathered to watch me and giggle. They had me spin around in front of the mirror. My jeans were rolled back down, and I stood up, awkwardly balancing on three and a half inch heels. A quick glance at my feet made it was obvious that I was wearing heels. The shiny silver toe seemed to draw your eye immediately to my foot, and the blocky heel stood out when you looked at me from behind. Several of the girls on the production staff offered their own fashion tips, and offered to take me shoe shopping on my lunch break. I was embarrassed, but strangely, this was the strongest show of solidarity they had ever shown me. They were laughing, but they were also paying attention to me. Beth broke up my fashion show and sent us all back to work. I was back at my receptionist's desk, thankful that the front panel hid my feet from the deliverymen who picked up and dropped off packages all afternoon. Lila delighted in my heel wearing and had me sending faxes and bringing coffee to all her staff members all afternoon. I quickly got the hang of walking in heels, and after an hour, nobody was staring at my shoes. I was being used to do all sorts of errands around the office, and this was the most responsibility I had been given since I started. The only embarrassing moment came when the Fed Ex guy, a tall rugged man who normally stood a good six inches taller than me, came in while I was faxing some papers for Lila. I had to run up to the front of the office, taking mincing steps in my heels, and sign for a package. I stood next to him, and he noticed that I was almost as tall as he was. "Been growing," he asked. He looked down at my heels. "Just getting along with the girls," I laughed. "Good luck," he said, and went on his way. I thought nothing of it. I got home that night and didn't take the heels off immediately. Even for the walk from the carport to my apartment on the second floor. I could hear the heels clunking with each step, and they echoed as I took each stair. Climbing stairs was weird... I had gotten used to having my balance shifted forward a little, but the extra three and a half inches was really noticeable on each step, and the loud clang that echoed in the stairwell sounded like an alarm bell, announcing to every neighbor that a man was wearing high heels on his way home from work. Heels still on, I made a light dinner and went out to eat it on my patio. When I crossed one leg over the other, one thigh over the other, the leg of my jeans lifted just a little, so that the silver heel with its strap buckled tightly around my ankle was clearly visible. It was almost dark, but somebody who took a good look out their window would easily be able to see the shiny silver heels I was wearing. I kept them on all night. Sometimes I walked in circles around my apartment just to feel how different my legs felt in them. I imagined wearing a pair of shiny white tights with them, and a little gray skirt like Lila had on. I checked my perpetually empty e-mail box, and thought about doing some shopping on-line. I knew brands and sizes, and I could get myself anything I wanted sent to me anonymously. I was browsing a department store's website, and I could almost hear Beth's voice whispering in my head, encouraging me. Then I thought of how little money I had, and decided that buying women's clothes just so I could masturbate in them wasn't a good idea. Besides, I'd have to give these heels back before anything I ordered arrived. Around midnight, my legs were really sore and I had to take them off to get ready for bed. When I undid the strap, I could see the indentation it left on my skin, the red imprint of the buckle. I pulled my clothes off and was about to put some pajamas on when I looked at the heels again. Beth and Lila had strapped them on; I never got to put them on myself... So I sat down on the edge of my bed and slipped them on. They went on much easier now that I had worn them for a few hours. A few? Close to nine hours was more like it. My legs were definitely going to hurt tomorrow, but I had to put them on one more time. I pulled the strap tight, then pulled it tighter and buckled it. I hated to admit it, but these actually looked good, and if I shaved my legs... I pulled a t-shirt out of my drawer that I never wore because it was too long and went back into my living room. The t-shirt hung down below my crotch, it almost looks like a nightie, and I laughed. I stayed up for another hour, wearing nothing but the t-shirt and heels. My cock had been hard for most of the day, and I finally gave it some release, gently masturbating with a slow and steady hand. I thought about Beth and her long legs, and Lila with her see-through blouses, and then I looked at my feet, arched up in three-inch heels, strapped with silver... I exploded all over myself when I imagined my legs up in the air, spread wide, feet arched in heels that were even higher, legs spread wide apart and aching for somebody to wrap themselves around. I opened my eyes after my orgasm and found myself lying back on my couch, legs spread open in a 'V' and my toes pointed. If my legs were shaved, this would look pretty, I thought. I took the heels off before I went to bed, thankful for the relief in my legs and sorry to see them go. I did carefully put them away in my closet, thinking that I would return them on Monday. Then I went to sleep wearing only the t-shirt as a nightie. Saturday, I put the heels on again. As if something compelled me, I went on-line and purchased a blue linen dress, a pair of satiny white tights, some panties, and a lacy black nightie to sleep in. I was embarrassed, but no one would know. I didn't question where these ideas came from; it just felt like they had been there all along. I had always wanted to dress like a woman, and now that I was living alone, I could. I remembered years of lusting after Susan's sexy, feminine outfits, staying up late to watch her dates bring her home...wishing that was me in the little black dress with the pantyhose and heels and long hair dancing around my nearly bare shoulders. I couldn't stop thinking about how pretty my legs would look if they were shaved, and if I wore pants, nobody at the office would know... and before I knew it, I was lathered up and closely shaving every inch of my legs. Again, I masturbated on the couch with my legs up in the air, spread like a woman's, aching to be wrapped around a man's body. I fell asleep there on the couch, right after I came, still wearing the heels. Sunday night I wore the heels until bedtime. My legs were screaming in agony, but I felt sad inside when I took them off. That night, I had a disturbing dream. I was naked and in a ladies dressing room. The light was hot and bright. Lila was there, wearing a navy skirt and blouse over gently patterned tights. She took off her suede navy blue heels and made me step into them. They were warm and soft and my feet felt very comfortable in them. I wanted to blush. I was naked, my limp penis trying to hide in my pubic hair. I felt vulnerable and exposed, and with my feet wrapped in those beautiful suede pumps, I felt embarrassed. I turned around in the heels and Lila held up a skirt. Than another. Then a blouse. Then a suit. She would hold up clothes and push the soft fabric against me and I was embarrassed that they were women's clothes but happy for the coverage. Then someone else held up some clothes behind me, and I felt more hands pushing, grabbing at me. I was surrounded by hands, by people pushing soft fabrics all over me as I twirled around, naked in those blue heels. Gradually I realized my body was changing, growing rounder and softer to fit the shape of each piece of clothes that was held before me. I couldn't see anything but bright colors of fabric and glimpses in a mirror of a body, my body, softening into a woman's shape, softening until I fit the shoes I was wearing. Suddenly, the hands vanished and I was holding a limp pile of fabric, and I held it up and it was a tiny black leotard or body suit, just a limp swatch of nylon spandex puddled in my hands, and I was shaking as I held it up next to my body, realizing that I could fill out the curves of such a slinky little thing... Then I woke up with a warm shudder, my semen sticky between my belly and my nightie. I hadn't had a wet dream in years and I would have really enjoyed it, but I was disturbed. I thought about standing there, naked and vulnerable, being dressed by women, thinking about wearing that leotard... I got out of bed and cleaned up but the thought of that little wisp of spandex was in my mind during my entire drive back into work. Beth and Lila were waiting for me to get in on Monday morning. "Morning, Tom. So, how do your legs feel? Did we prove our point," Beth asked me? "My legs are fine." there was no way I was going to give ground on that, "but the strap hurt the hell out of my ankles and walking up stairs was a little difficult," I conceded. "Did you bring them back," Lila wanted to know? Shit! I was so distracted by my wet dream that I had forgotten them. "Oops," I told them, "I forgot them at home. I'll bring them in tomorrow." "Don't worry about it," Beth said. I completely forgot to ask what happened to my shoes from Friday, but I never saw them again. On Tuesday, I was mortified when a delivery came for me. It was the dress and the tights that I had ordered... Oh, no! I must have accidentally shipped them to my job. The package was clearly from Banana Repulic - Woman and had my name on it. The Fed Ex guy gave me a funny look as he gave me the package, and I hid it under my desk. Susan came in later that afternoon, wearing a blue linen dress and black leather clogs with a two-inch heel. I blushed when I realized that I had bought the exact same dress, and had it sitting between my legs. I was envious of her clogs; they went so well with the dress, too. Susan breezed by me on her way to a meeting with Beth, and I was captured by how the light fabric flowed over her hips and swirled around her legs... I had fantasized about this for years, dressing up like Susan, imagining I was her, walking home after a late night. I wanted to get home so badly and wear that dress I could hardly concentrate on my job. Beth and Susan came back out to the reception area, and I swear that Beth knew about the package between my legs. I don't know how, but the way she looked at me, with those piercing eyes, I knew that she knew, and I was terrified. Not in front of Susan... please, Beth, please don't humiliate me in front of Susan... "Well, Tom, how do you like Susan's new dress?" Beth asked me. "I love it, but everything looks good on you, Susan." I tried to act cool, but I didn't think it was working... I thought of anything that could switch the conversation from the dress. "But I really love those clogs you've got on." Beth smiled, and my stomach lurched... She had set me up. "Those are lovely clogs you're wearing, Susan. I bet they'd look good on you, too, Tom." Before I knew it, Lila appeared with a matching pair of clogs for me. When I lifted up my pants leg to take my shoes off, Beth asked "Did you shave your legs, Tom?" Susan smiled at me. "It's like we're sisters!" Everybody laughed at that. Everybody but me. The clogs were softer to wear than the heels, but the back of my ankle felt naked and exposed. "I suppose you'll want to borrow my dress, next," Susan continued. I mumbled, "no thank you," and went back behind my desk. I did really want to borrow her dress, to feel her warmth, her scent on it. The worst part of it all was that the clogs Lila gave me were really quite comfortable. I got home without further incident. Nobody noticed me wearing the clogs home, even with the give-away click-clack that the wooden heels made on the stairs. My humiliation vanished as soon as I got inside my apartment, and I tore into my package. I pulled on the blue dress and twirled around. I was in ecstasy with the light fabric swirling around my legs; lightly swishing with every step I took. After dinner, I carefully pulled on the tights and Beth's heels. The shiny nylon had me erect immediately, and I could see my hardness through the nylon and linen. I took up my position on the couch and started stroking myself... legs in the air. I remembered how Susan always treated me like a younger sister, telling me all the dirty details about her dates. Telling me about having her breasts pawed by men desperate with lust, about hard cocks that shivered when she touched them, about being filled with cum in the backseat of a car, about the lovers that brought her to orgasm over and over again. I almost came all over my new dress just thinking about all those old times. That night, I had the dream again. Lila. Black suede heels this time. All those hands reaching out, rubbing silk and satin and lace and crepe and cotton and soft wool and cashmere, holding outfits against me, clothes I wanted to wear. My hips tilted forward, legs curved, body soft and smooth under the hot lights. It ended with the black leotard pooled in my hands and excitement in my cock... A week later, Fashionable Productions jumped into overdrive. Susan was going to shoot the packaging shots for a new line of pantyhose. Eileen Waters was an up and coming designer who hated her old design firm and wanted to start doing business with Fashionable Productions. If this shoot went well, Fashionable Productions would have an exclusive relationship with one of the hottest young designers on the scene. I was excited not just to work with Susan, but because finally I got to really help out. I was making phone calls and tracking down equipment for Susan. Racks of clothes started showing up in the office, and then racks of shoes showed up with them. Liz, the wardrobe director, had all the girls in the office modeling the outfits so Susan could test her lighting on each outfit. I was fascinated at how much thought went into matching a little floral skirt with the right pair of shoes. Too strappy, not too strappy enough, draws attention away from the stockings, doesn't flatter the stockings; the list went on and on. All this for a package of pantyhose... just a picture of the hem of a skirt and a pair of heels, but the attention to detail was incredible. The day of the shoot was a disaster. Lila sprained her ankle carrying a case of pantyhose to the set. Susan scratched a camera lens. Claiming it was a union regulation, two beefy union guys showed up and insisted on 'supervising,' which largely amounted to sitting around and drinking coffee. Rhonda, the model, called and said she was going to be two hours late. Two hours passed, then two more, then two more. By late afternoon, it was apparent that Rhonda wasn't going to show up at all. The union guys were demanding overtime. Beth was trying to find a replacement model, but every agency wanted too much money to send out a girl on such short notice. The shoot was in serious danger of not happening at all, and everybody was on edge. I had an idea, but I was afraid of what the solution was. We had to get the pictures taken, and someone had to be the model. Beth couldn't do it, Lila had a sprained ankle, Tammy the make-up lady was too big, and Liz was too old. Everyone else had a job on the set but me. I knew I was the right size. I knew I could pose in the required pair of heels. I was just the wrong sex. I took a pair of the heels off the wardrobe cart and went off to find Beth. I could hear her through the door of the office. She was busy talking on her cell phone, trying to negotiate an overtime agreement with the crew. I slipped my shoes off, and sitting on the steps of the office, gently buckled the heels on. These were delicate stilettos, four inches high, and really required concentration to stand up in. They felt good, though. Natural. I cracked open the office door. Beth was sitting on her desk, staring at me, like she was waiting for me. "What?" "Nothing, it's just that... well, maybe I can solve your problem." Beth looked at me for a moment and realized she was looking at me eye to eye. I stepped inside the office and shut the door. She looked down at my feet, and I pulled my pants legs up. I was perched there on top of those dangerously high stilettos. I put one foot forward, and then spun around for her approval. "Drop your pants, I need to see your legs." Silent, I undid my belt and let my pants fall. The air was cool on my freshly shaved legs. I was wearing panties - I had worn nothing but panties for the last week - and my hard cock was straining at the black satin. Beth appraised my legs with a professional's eye, then sized up the rest of me. I could feel her staring at every curve of my legs, analyzing them. I was torn between embarrassment and pride, because, I had to admit, my legs did look good in these heels. "Well, it looks like you are a team player after all," she said. "But that hard-on has to go. Now." I looked confused, I hadn't thought about that. "Can't we just tuck it back?" I asked. "Not until it's soft. Jerk off. Now, and then we'll get a pair of pantyhose on you to see if this will really work." I thought I was just volunteering to pose, but this felt extremely embarrassing. My boss was staring at me wearing panties and stiletto heels, waiting for me to masturbate. I was backed into a corner, I had to do it. My hand dropped to my cock and started stroking it slowly. Beth sat down on the desk and picked up her cell phone to make another phone call. She crossed her legs and settled down, staring at me. "Keep it up." I looked at her legs; she was wearing black stretch suede boots that went nearly up to her knees and clung to her calves like a second skin. Black tights and a mini-skirt. A loose white blouse. She undid a button and leaned forward so I could stare at her cleavage, pushed together with a lacy white bra. She stared at me, and my face went red. I just stared at her breasts, wishing I could hide in her cleavage as I kept slowly pumping my cock. "Hi, Elaine? I'm looking at the solution right now. One of our crew members is a lovely young lady who'll be happy to pose. Yes, she's a model and she's been looking for a break. Yes. Yes, that's fine. Call you tomorrow." I stared down at my legs, and they looked like woman's legs in those delicate heels. My panties had fallen around my knees. My cock seemed strange being attached to a woman's body, but I kept stroking it, faster and faster. Beth hung up the cell phone and grabbed my chin, pulling my head up until she was staring me in the eye. Then the office door opened but I couldn't look away, I could only look into Beth's deep green eyes. Her beautiful green eyes... I could swear she was looking deep into my soul, I felt hypnotized. The world collapsed until it was only her gorgeous dark green eyes, reading every thought in my head. I found myself thinking about the first pair of heels I ever wore, back when I was fourteen and going to my first formal dance. I remembered how my mother held my hands and taught me how to walk heel-toe and to keep my balance forward. I remembered the dress and laughed at the peach taffeta and how grown up I thought I was in my first pair of suntan colored nylons. Then more memories of lingerie shopping, buying strapless bras at the mall with my girlfriends, giggling at all-night sleepovers, conflicting memories flashed in a crazy, disjointed rush through my head and every thought led back to Beth's deep green eyes that seemed to control my every thought. I would do anything she asked me, wear anything, become anything she wanted, and then I was coming, spurting hot semen into my hand. Someone started laughing, and I blushed furiously when I heard Tammy and Liz, the wardrobe coordinator, standing behind me talking about my legs. "I think he'll do. Let's put a pair on him up here and see, though," Liz said. "He'll have to clean up, first, and I didn't bring any tissues with me," said Tammy. I was shaking from my orgasm, I could barely stand in the heels, and I was staring dumbfounded at these two women. I wasn't embarrassed anymore, I was broken. Part of me wanted to cry for putting myself in this position, then I felt my cum dripping off my hand. "Dammit, clean that up, now!" Beth scolded me. "But I don't have a..." "Lick it up. Every girl in here has swallowed her share of that. It won't kill you, and if you get any on the floor, I'll make you lick it up on your hands and knees." I couldn't argue, not when she stared at me with those entrancing eyes. Head bowed, I gently licked my cum off the back of my hand. There wasn't a lot, but it was sticky and salty and I licked every drop off my hands. It's not so bad, I told myself, girls do this all the time. Girls do this all the time, and I'm posing like a girl, so it's all an act. It's okay, I kept telling myself. Then I was plopped into a chair. Liz deftly unbuckled the heels and Tammy started spreading a sweet-smelling lotion onto my legs. "This will help keep the hose from running and make it look nice and shiny in the photos," she told me. Tammy massaged lotion up and down each leg and into the soles of my feet. Then she made me stand up and she massaged more around my groin and on my cock. "Don't get hard, or you'll just have to taste your cum again," she told me. Then she massaged my buttocks with lotion. I gasped with shock when she slipped a finger into my asshole. "Just being thorough, sweetie. You really are a dear for doing this, you know." "Which pair first?" Liz asked. "Let's go all the way and make sure this will work." "The sheer evening wear?" "With the sparkles woven in." "Perfect! I think we've got a pair of heels with an extra half-inch. That should really remove any trace of manliness from her," said Liz. "I wonder how she got so good at keeping her balance in heels? Every time I have a cock slide into me while I'm standing in heels, I have to cling to my man for dear life to remain upright." I realized she was talking about me like I was a woman. "I've been training him around the office. He's got a couple of pair at home that I'm pretty sure he practices with regularly," Beth said. "Isn't she a dear?" I was pushed back down on the chair, and told to point my toes. Slowly, a pair of gold and black nylons were rolled up my legs, up to my thighs. The feeling was exquisite, like a second skin that shifted and flexed and gently hugged every inch of my legs. Liz carefully buckled my heels back on. Then I was pulled out of the chair. Tammy gently tucked my limp penis back behind my legs and Liz pulled the pantyhose up over my waist, carefully adjusting it around my crotch and smoothing it around my belly. They came up to my belly, and they were so tight around my stomach, it almost seemed to suck my gut in and give me the illusion of having hips. "Perfect." Beth proclaimed. The crew was hushed as I walked out onto the set. Susan took my hand and walked me out onto the set, whispering in my ear, "You look lovely, darling, just stand here, shift your leg out like so, turn this way, and hold." This was just like old times, years ago, when Susan dressed me up in her clothes and took pictures of me in her basement. The rest of the shoot was a blur. I vaguely recall the two union guys laughing at me, standing like a sissy in pantyhose and heels. Susan molded my legs into position after position. I liked how her firm hands felt through the nylon, how strong they felt as they moved my legs just so... Liz had me in more tights and pantyhose that I could count, sheers, opaques, patterns, control tops, even nudes. The shooting went on for hours, and I couldn't remember a thing. The lights were so hot that I took off my shirt, standing in front of the white backdrop in a floral skirt, black thigh high stockings, and four inch black pumps. Wearing the skirt made my chest feel naked and exposed. I lost track of the time, I just posed however Susan told me to. She smiled at me knowingly. CLICK! And I was wearing blue open-toed heels with white hose. CLICK! And it was black tights with heels. CLICK! Burgandy tights with brown open toed heels. CLICK! Susan posed me again and again, just like we did when we were young, she taught me so much about modelling, and she was very excited to see me starting a modelling career here in Los Angeles. CLICK! Sheer hose with a plaid miniskirt. My legs were sore and my mind was numb. All I could really think about was my first formal dance, where Robby Benton took me to my first formal, and how we danced, and how that was the first time I ever felt a boy's hardness through his trousers. We were only fourteen, and I knew what he wanted me to do, but I wasn't ready. I do remember the heat of his penis, the steel hardness of it pressed against the shiny peach fabric of my homecoming dress, and the unfamiliar tightness of my tan nylons, and how familiar and much more soft and comfortable the nylons I now had on felt, and I remembered how curious I was about his penis... how it would taste, how would it feel in my mouth? I was a boy, and I never wore heels and pantyhose as a child, but the memory was so vivid, I couldn't deny it. I never wore a dress, and I wasn't a girl, but I could remember it plainly. The weekend was a blur, but I spent much of it wearing Beth's silver heels. I left the shoot on Friday night wearing a pair of sheer black nylons with an intricate rhinestone pattern and a pair of stiletto heels that made it nearly impossible to drive but I didn't even think about taking them off. I loved the way they felt, I loved looking down and seeing a pair of womanly legs, my womanly legs. Walking across the parking lot to my apartment, I knew that at least two couples had to see me. The stilettos clicked loudly on the asphalt of the parking lot, calling attention to me. Plus, I was only wearing a t-shirt on top of the pantyhose, and the sparkling jewels had to be visible from quite a distance. From the waist up, I looked like a man, but from the waist down, I had legs any woman would kill for. I carefully removed the sparkling hose and slept nude. I put the silver heels back on almost the moment I woke up and spent all morning walking around my apartment in them. I couldn't believe how comfortable they were. I felt dizzy, though, whenever I thought about Beth and her deep green eyes. How did she dig up that memory? Where was that from? I went through an old photo album and right in the middle of my high school photos, there they were. Pictures of me in frilly peach dress with matching heels and my hair teased up. I even looked like a girl, with a hint of cleavage and nice round hips. Photos of me looking like a woman and dancing with a brown haired boy, right in between photos of me playing men's basketball and me starring in the school play... It felt like this memory was just wedged into my head. I couldn't remember being a boy for that dance and taking a girl...I thought I did, once, but now I couldn't be sure. Then there was a picture of me and three girlfriends at a slumber party. We were all wearing nightgowns and making funny faces. The other girls were unfamiliar and I had never seen them before but they looked familiar and I remembered spending the night at that house often with my best friend. There were more pictures, but looking at them made me confused and frightened, so I put them away. Sunday night, I don't know why, but I turned on my computer and started surfing the net. I wanted to buy a pair of pantyhose. I wanted to feel the smooth nylon against my skin, hugging my legs. I felt the anonymity of the web, and thought how easy it would be to order a pair of tights and this beautiful black skirt, and they would match perfectly with that pair of clogs. If I got a white blouse and the brown skirt, brown suede heels would match too... Before I was done, I had spent over four hundred dollars on women's clothes. Another pair of heels, two skirts, a wide array of tights, even a bra! I was shaking as I turned the computer off, anticipating dressing up. I didn't know what I was doing anymore, but I was addicted. I went in to work on Monday wearing a pair of jeans and tennis shoes. I almost wore the heels, but the snickers from the male crew members stopped me. I can keep this private, and no need to provoke anything further. Beth walked up to me and asked me how my weekend was. "Fine, I guess. I didn't really do anything, I think Friday kind of wiped me out." "I can't thank you enough for what you did. Wait until you see the pictures, you won't believe how sexy your legs are. And the clients flipped out, they are talking about using you again," Beth said. "I don't know," I said, "that was a one-time thing, I think." I didn't want Beth to know how much I was getting addicted to dressing up like a woman. I especially didn't want her to know about my weekend shopping trip. I had to hide that from her, but she turned those green eyes on me and I think she immediately knew what I had done all weekend. I tried to not think about it, not think about the pantyhose and the skirts and the bra that I ordered, but I felt her reading every private thought I had. "After what you did on the shoot, you are no longer dressed appropriately to work here. To be a full member of the team here, you'll have to start living up to the image we must project," Beth told me in a voice that resonated deep in my body. "We are heavily involved with the fashion industry, and we can't have our receptionist looking ignorant of the fashion world, can we?" She handed me a bag of clothes, and without thinking I went into the bathroom to change. In the bag was a bright pink tube top with dark dyed jeans and matching pink flip-flops. I squeezed into the tube top and felt how bare and naked my shoulders felt. Even the thin straps of a tank top would have provided me some modesty. The tube top didn't even stretch down to the top of the jeans, so my belly button was peeking out. The jeans were cuffed like capri pants that ended at mid-thigh, and every step I took reminded me that these were girls pants. There was a small case of pink eye shadow that I dutifully used to lighten my eyes, and a tube of lipstick that just barely tinted my lips pink. There was even a scrunchie to use to hold my hair back. I was afraid to look in the mirror, but when I did, I looked girlish. My naked shoulders made me feel so vulnerable I wanted to cross my arms over my flat chest and cover my shoulders with my hands. I sat out at the desk feeling self-conscious with each leer from every delivery person who came in that day. I wore those clothes home that night, looking so much like a girl that I didn't care who saw me. I walked past some guy on the steps and I knew he turned around to check me out. I wore my regular clothes into the office the next morning, and there was a stack of clothes there for me to change into. I don't know why I didn't quit... I don't know why I let myself suffer the embarrassment. I don't think I could have even if I wanted to, though. Beth had a hold on me, even when she wasn't around, I could feel her eyes peering into my soul. I knew she was turning me into a girl, but I was helpless, I couldn't do anything she didn't command me to do. This morning there was a red handkerchief top waiting for me. It tied around my neck with a thin string but had no back and every time the door opened, the gentle breeze made it flap against my belly. White capri pants and black leather platform sandals finished the outfit. Wednesday morning it was a pastel green knit tank top with khaki pants and sandals. I wanted to fight the compulsion to obey Beth, but I couldn't. I wanted to quit, but I couldn't. I just wanted to wear boy's clothes, I wanted to stop turning into a girl, but I couldn't. Lila loved how I looked. So did Beth. She thought I was so pretty, she wanted to use me as a model again next week. Susan took me out for luch, and she talked about the model portfolio she wanted to shoot for me. I was confused... I never wanted to be a model or an actress. Susan just ran a hand down my cheek and told me not to worry, everything would be okay soon. Thursday it was a tight blue top with a scoop neck and ruffled bottom with black stretchy capri pants with black thong panties. I was all out of mens shoes at home so I just wore the black clogs into work. I had gotten used to the stares from the FedEx guy and the mailman. I think the FedEx guy even wanted to hit on me. I was developing hips, I was sure of that. Last night, I found pictures of myself wearing my first bikini at summer camp, and I had a full round bottom and tiny waist. I found photos of the plaid skirt I wore on my first day of high school. I remembered working as a waitress, wearing a white blouse with black skirt and tights for the restaurant's uniform. I remembered two sorority friends of mine from college, one who was going to get married next summer. I remembered playing high school basketball on the boys team, but I also remembered cheerleading for the championship game as a girl... I knew there was a box in the back of my apartment with my old cheerleading outfit. I knew I never wore it as a boy, but I knew it was a perfect fit. Friday, I started to give in. I wore the blue linen dress into Fashionable Productions with the white tights and silver heels. I put on a thin bra and thought about stuffing the A cups with tissue to fill them out. My memory was like a double-exposed photograph, and the male image was fading rapidly. There were more pictures of me as the lead in the school play. I had never acted before, but there I was as the lead in Annie, Get Your Gun. There were pictures of endless ballet recitals... pink tights, black leotards, tutus. Modeling lessons. Acting lessons. Diaries that talked about crushes on boys I thought I played baseball with. Diaries that talked about my dreams of moving to Los Angeles and becoming a famous actress. There was my one straight A school report card for Kimberly Hastings. The weekend came, and I was almost out of boys clothes. I wanted to go buy a pair of jeans or cargo shorts. I turned on the computer to buy some clothes on-line, but I found myself browsing the women's clothes at J. Crew on-line. I ran out to a mall to buy a pair of jeans, a jock, a necktie, anything male. Anything to help me fight this... but first I had to run inside and change out of my heels and flowery dress. I went for the men's department at Nordstrom's but found myself in the hosiery department looking at tights and stockings. A saleswoman approached me and asked, "Miss, do you need any help?" I saw myself in the mirror. Even in jeans and a t-shirt, I looked like a woman. Without a bra, my nipples were visible under the white t-shirt. My dark hair fell limply to my shoulders, and girlish freckles dotted my face. I ran out of the store in a panic and drove to the salon. I'm going to cut this hair off... I'll cut it all off. I pulled into a drugstore. I'll buy some scissors and hack this hair off... I will fight this. I am a man, my name is Tom. My name is Tom. I got out of the car (chanting 'my name is Tom') and then my mind went blank and I found myself back in the car with a bag of cosmetics and a box of tampons. I looked in the mirror and my hair was still there, long and limp. I opened up the eyeliner and just stroked a little under my eyes, then a touch of lipstick, and some blush. The dark, sexy eyes that stared back at me were mine, but I had never seen them before. More memories of Kimberly erupted, more memories of Tom vanished as I stared at my beautiful face in the mirror. The hair... fix the hair, cut it off, anything to remain masculine. Gunning the engine of my little red Miata convertible, I drove frantically to the salon. Got to cut my hair, got to remain a man. I knew I played baseball and basketball, but I couldn't remember any games. I could remember cheerleading and having a crush on Mike, the blond catcher from the baseball team who was a year older and felt my boobs behind the bleachers after practice... I worked as a short order cook, but I could only remember waitressing in a nice Italian restaurant and complaining about how hot and scratchy and thick the uniform's tights were. When I got to the salon, I was just in time for Kimberly's appointment. A young redhead with a white tank top and large breasts shampooed my hair. Her long hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and she had a belly ring and a tattoo peeking out over the top of her hip huggers. I knew her boobs were implants, but I was jealous of how firm and round they were. I remembered leaving the restaurant to work in a salon as a shampoo girl... the black smock and black tights and heels all the girls had to wear in the salon. Those tights were much more comfortable, cooler in the summer, softer... I learned so much about hairstyling that summer that I started to trim my girlfriends hair at slumber parties. I remembered giving my best friend Angela a haircut once, the night before a big date... I even started working as a stylist for Susan on her first photo shoots, touching up model's makeup... Sheila spun me around so I could face myself in the mirror. She talked about trimming up, adding some layers for body, removing split ends, and growing it out longer. I tried to tell her to cut it off... cut it all off. Shave it off. Make me a man, but I couldn't say anything. I nodded. Kimberly nodded, and watched as Sheila bobbed it off at my shoulders, and added some volume to it. She blew it out and my hair fell in dark, beautiful waves to my shoulders. Giving me a mirror, I saw it was thick and shiny and just above my shoulders. Kimberly loved it, I just wanted to go home. I put the top up on my convertible for the drive home, not wanting to mess up my hair right after it was styled so nicely. I thought about all the dance lessons Kimberly took, moving from ballet into jazz and modern dancing. She loved dancing, and I felt a little pride at how well and how gracefully my body could move. It took a lot of discipline and practice, and I felt disappointed that work kept me from taking another class this month. There were two more shoots with Susan coming up, and Eileen Waters wanted me to be the lead model in a fashion show the month after that... Doing the catwalk in four inch heels was much easier with all my dance experience, I thought. I wanted to dance again, to put on my favorite leotard and let my body sway freely... I went home and collapsed on the couch when there was a knock on the door. I wanted to ignore it, I wanted to think about my past that I never remembered, I wanted to sit and feel my beautiful hair brushing against my shoulders, but whoever it was just knocked louder. "I just heard you come in," a deep man's voice rumbled from outside. "You got a package today and I signed for it." I panicked. Another on-line order. I couldn't leave them with some guy. Blushing furiously, I ran to the door. I cracked the door open and tried to sound natural, but I was fighting off tears. "Just a second... I just got home." >From nowhere, I felt Beth's eyes staring at me, I felt like she was inside my soul, telling me what to do. Kimberly listened eagerly, and it scared me. I ran my fingers through my hair to fluff it up again. I felt dirty in these jeans and t-shirt, but there was nothing I could do. My nipples stood out against the fabric, erect, obvious. I still had a cock because it was stirring under my panties, but thinking about it made me blush. I was a woman. I was Kimberly Hastings. I opened the door. He was average height, but muscled. I looked at his dark hair and his dark eyes, and it was almost like Beth was staring at me through him. "Hi. Come in," I told him. I took the package from him. It was from Victoria's Secret, and addressed to Tom Hastings, but the package was torn open and heels and a pair of lace stockings were spilling out of the package. There was no way he could have missed that, I thought. I invited him to sit down on the couch. "I don't know how to thank you enough for holding on to this for me." I ran my polished fingernails up his arm and smiled at him. He smiled back. "The package was all torn up when it arrived. I hope everything is okay." "Well, why don't I try it on. I'll let you be the judge." I smiled coyly. "Wait right here." I brushed my hair against his chest as I leaned down to take the package from him. Back in my bedroom, I peeled off my jeans. Time for those to be thrown out. I stood naked in my room, looking at the lace curtains, the pink pillows on the bed, the rack of cosmetics and perfumes on the night table, the pictures of me from my modeling portfolio... Wow, I forgot how sexy I can look. I opened up the package and pulled out a limp sheath of nylon. This was my dream. This body stocking of fine lace. I shivered as I pulled it slowly up over my calves, my thighs, my hips, my belly... I wriggled my arms into it and smoothed it out over my breasts. It was sheer to the waist, then the lace darkened to demurely cover my breasts. My cock was still there, I felt it throbbing, but it was hidden in the lace... tiny and shrinking and hidden under my neatly waxed bush and the lace of the body stocking. I slipped into the new suede heels, and they fit perfectly, giving me three more inches of height. A black velvet skirt was all I needed to finish the outfit. Little gold earrings and a dash of perfume, and I slowly walked back to the living room, giving my best model catwalk strut. My neighbor stared at me, mouth open. He stood up and gently touched my shoulders, brushing my neck, brushing my hair. He didn't have to say anything, I knew I was beautiful. His hands ran down my back to my ass, gently squeezing it, firmly pulling me close to him so I could feel his hard cock bulging in his trousers. I pushed him back against the couch and slowly went down to my knees, crossing one ankle over the other. I pulled his pants down to his knees, then freed his cock. It jumped out proudly, rock hard, glistening. My fingers slowly stroked it and I loved to hear him shudder and moan... I controlled him just by touching his cock like this. My lips brushed against the head of his cock, then my tongue reached out. I licked it, tasting it, feeling its heat. I sucked it in, more and more of it and my neighbor gasped for breath. I felt the velvet hardness in my mouth, the heat, and I sucked harder. His hips thrust toward my mouth, pumping it, fucking my mouth. He was reaching the edge of orgasm and I wanted to taste him. I wanted his cum in my mouth. I was a girl and girls swallowed cum and I wanted it, but he pulled it out. "I want to fuck you. Now," he commanded me. I stood up and flipped up the back of my skirt. "You can take my tight, virgin ass, but you're going to have to go through this stocking... and if you break it, you have to buy me another," I teased. With hands so strong it frightened me, he bent me over, exposing my ass, leaving it vulnerable. Something metal teased the nylon, then punched through. I gasped as he tore a hole through the back of my new body stocking, I didn't think he'd do it, I thought I'd be safe to tease...but I wanted his cock so badly, I didn't care. His fingers tore the hole wider, and I felt a hot cock against my ass. Then he picked me up and put me down on the couch, on my back. I eagerly spread my legs for him as he climbed on top of me. My cock, what was left of it, throbbed. He put the tip of his cock against my asshole and slowly pushed in. Kimberly had used dildos and had a favorite butt plug, but this was nothing like that. Her girlfriends all talked about it. But now, this hot, throbbing cock filling him up, making him burst... Kimberly had sex before, and I knew that shortly Kimberly's pussy would be getting regularly filled with hot dick, but now, all I knew was this. This hot cock stroking in and out of my feminine ass, a hard, strong man bearing down on me with all his weight. Waves of pleasure flooded my body, I couldn't think, I couldn't breathe. I was yelling out, crying out in pleasure and couldn't stop myself. I pried my eyes open and saw my legs, Kimberly's legs, wrapped tightly in lacy stockings, pointing straight up into the air, opening my ass, toes pointed, feet arching even higher than the suede pumps demanded, and then the orgasms started, my cock dribbled out its last load of cum, my body rocked and bucked and the orgasms kept coming, pushing me higher and higher. I was thinking about Tom but didn't know who Tom was anymore... it might be my neighbor, this hot stud who is filling my ass with his cum... Tom? I don't care who he was... he's not important anymore. I relaxed my legs, wrapping them around my neighbor, wanting him to get hard again, to fuck my dripping wet pussy, to make me feel like a woman... The End