Jeffy's Adventures In Alberton free porn video

Jeff's Adventures in Alberton By Katie Dale I was fourteen. Life at home stank ? I was the youngest of five kids. My older siblings (two boys and two girls) were really successful in everything they did ? the girls were gorgeous and the boys were strong and muscular. They were all brilliant. I, on the other hand, was a very skinny boy, and not at all muscular. I did okay at school but wasn't outstanding like the rest of them. I could hardly play sports, and truth be told, didn't enjoy them much. Due to all this, I had an extreme inferiority complex. I felt really down most of the time; I saw myself as a failure. And although my older siblings were always nice to me and encouraging ? they still babied me ? in a way, I hated being around them because to me, it just rubbed in my inferiority. I LOVED girls. If a hot chick walked down the street, I couldn't help looking. I probably got hard at least a hundred times a day. I even got hard by looking at my own sisters ? anybody would, they were so hot! But even though I was so infatuated with girls, I could only dream of getting one of my own. I wasn't popular, handsome or successful enough for anybody in my class to give me a single ounce of attention. Of course, I never once even tried to ask a girl out ? I was too afraid of being rejected, which, to me, seemed like the only obvious response to my theoretical proposition. So when I finished 8th grade (mostly B's with a few C's and one A), I felt like I was going to go nuts if something didn't change. I wanted to get away ? not permanently, because I loved my family a lot. I just wanted to take a bit of a vacation, go somewhere where I wouldn't feel so much pressure and intimidation, somewhere where I could discover myself, and maybe even learn to feel good about myself. One day I was surfing the net and came across an ad for a student exchange program in Alberton. Of course, I had no idea of what Alberton was, but the ad promised great stuff. First of all, they paid you two thousand bucks just for coming. They provided all your travel and living expenses for free. And you got to live with a nice family and be "adopted" by them for a whole year ? usually successful families with few or no kids who wanted bigger families but couldn't. Since they were so happy you came, these families were really nice and spoiled you rotten. I still had no idea what Alberton was, though. I clicked on the link leading to the official Alberton website. "Alberton ? a modern, 21st century civilization. Founded on the values of Equality and Democracy, Love, Respect, Eternal Youth, and a Love of Life. Barbara Stimbek, Governor." The screen displayed the colony's symbol ? a coin-like shape with the words "Equality, Democracy, Love, Respect, Youth, Life" inscribed around the perimeter. I clicked on the symbol. On the next screen, there was an arial view of the town. Alberton is an island, surrounded on all sides by water. From above, it looked nice, with beaches, lots of large patches of green grass. I could see private homes and town houses; there were lots of private swimming pools, and many larger, public pools, with big water slides and other attractions. There was a large amusement park, and an airport. I started getting excited by the prospect of living in such a lovely place. Then I remembered that there, too, I'd be a small, weak, poor excuse for a teenage boy, and would probably have all the same troubles there as I did at home in Philly. But then I read on. There was a good description of their unique civilization, written by their Minister of External Relations and Immigration, Dr. Stephanie Lipman. And boy, was I surprised by what I read! Alberton is a female-dominated society. It was started by a group of philosophers, psychologists and scientists who wanted to prove that most gender-associated behaviors were learned, not inborn. They created a society exactly opposite the common, normal one. Meaning, the women were the powerful ones, and the men were the pretty ones. Men and boys worried about the way they looked, dressed in tights and dresses, played with dolls ? all that stuff. The little girls were taught to play with cars and tractors when they were young, and when they grew up they held high-up important career positions. Men were not allowed to vote or make any major decisions, and most of them, after marriage, remained at home as "house-husbands", raising the kids. The civilization, officially an independent country, was in existence now for about 30 years. When I read all this I had a good laugh. I guess I was wrong about finding the perfect place for me, I thought. No way I'm gonna be wearing the tights and tutus! But as I read on, and flipped through some of the pictures on the website, I began to gain a little more interest. Mainly, I thought about how in our society I didn't make it as a successful boy, but in their society I'd probably be perfectly ideal. I mean, they didn't want boys with big muscles and stuff ? the popular boy's image there was a small skinny "pretty" one. Many boys had to undergo surgeries or hormone treatments to get their muscles made smaller ? I wouldn't have any problems like that! The thought of having to wear skirts and tights made me nervous, but in a way it also excited me. I had always loved seeing a hot girl in a short skirt ? I knew just what it did to the boys. There, I could be the beautiful, hot one, and get attention from the girls. Truthfully, when I began thinking about it, he thought of wearing smooth slinky tights kind of appealed to me. But, I thought to myself, I'm definitely NOT gay! I love GIRLS! And crossdressing is an activity for gays! Then I remembered that in Alberton, a boy wearing a dress isn't cross dressing ? it's normal. And the boys-in-the-dresses are interested in the muscular "manly" girls. Gradually, the thought of finally maybe being acceptable, successful, even popular really began to excite me. And I knew that even though I'm not particularly smart like my siblings ? if I were the "girl", I could be liked and successful without brains, if I only managed to be charming and pretty? I began sending emails to inquire about certain details. Eventually I decided I wanted to try it. Alberton had a way of hiding certain details about themselves from applicant's parents so as not to embarrass the applicant. My parents thought I was signing up for a year away on a students' exchange program in England. They signed the consent forms and everything. At the beginning of the summer I was badly in need of a haircut, but luckily I learned of the Alberton option early on and opted not to cut it. By the end of the summer it was almost shoulder- length, and if styled right could pass as a cute girl's hair, although I always made sure to keep it inconspicuous ? tucked under a baseball cap or something like that. My family didn't suspect a thing. I know that they didn't know that Alberton existed. A week before my departure, I received a first-class plane ticket to Chicago in the mail. In Chicago I was supposed to switch planes to England, or so my folks thought. I packed up my stuff ? hardly brought any clothes, as I was told that in Alberton I'd be supplied with an entirely new wardrobe. On the last Friday in August I boarded the American Airlines flight to Chicago. As was previously arranged, I was greeted in the airport by an androgynous-looking woman named Pat, who took my bags for me and led me to a cab. I was treated to a luxury suite in one of the most expensive hotels in Chicago. I had a blast there ? using all the services for free. Pat stayed in the room adjacent to mine, and made sure I had everything I wanted. Again and again she insisted that today, money was no object and I could indulge in anything I want. Late at night Pat woke me up. Somehow, she called my parents and in a very British operator-like voice asked if they'd accept a collect-call from their son in England. They accepted, and I talked on the phone for a while, telling them I got there and everything was great, just as I wanted. Before hanging up I told them I'd call them in a week and give them a phone number in England where they could reach me. The next morning, Pat woke me up at around 10. She said our flight to Alberton left that afternoon at 2:30, and we had to get ready. I wouldn't dress in girls' clothes yet ? I'd change in a special changing-room before boarding the plane. But I still had to get "ready". After getting me to sign a few last consent forms, Pat opened a large suitcase she had brought with her and handed me a black Speedo. She pointed to the bathroom and told me to go in and change. I hesitated. I never wore a Speedo ? not since I turned eight and realized that a Speedo was like a girl's bathing suit. (Before that my mother always dressed me in a Speedo when I went swimming; after my "realization" I insisted on wearing baggy swimming shorts instead.) Pat sensed my embarrassment. "Look, you really have no reason to be embarrassed. And you'll have to get used to wearing things like that ? you know that in Alberton boys wear what you think of as "girl's" bathing suits. Still, if you feel uncomfortable right now, then go into the bathroom, put on the Speedo, and put your pants back on over it. We'll start with the stuff we can do with your clothes on. When we have to take care of your leg-hair, though, you'll have to strip down to the Speedo. I went into the bathroom, took off my pants, and stepped into the Speedo. It felt tight, real snug around my equipment. I looked in the mirror. I wasn't used to this. I thought that it would make sense to start getting used to this and exit the bathroom wearing just the Speedo, but just before I opened the door I chickened out and put my pants back on. Pat asked me if I was wearing the Speedo under me pants ? I said "Yes". She gave me a bag to put my underwear into. She took me back into the bathroom and had me sit in front of the mirror. She took her shirt off, revealing very muscular arms and shoulders and pair of bra-less breasts beneath a tank-top undershirt. Her chest and armpits were generously sprinkled with hair. She started trimming my hair ? to even it out. Then she did something to my eyebrows and eyelashes, then to my finger- and toenails. When that was done she told me to come back to the bedroom. She spread a plastic sheet on the bed, and on top put another cloth sheet. Then, quickly and kind of roughly, she yanked my shirt up and over my head and my pants down. She lifted me into the air so that my pants dropped off of my ankles, and laid me down on the bed. I felt kind of humiliated by the way she was treating me, but didn't say anything. I lay there in nothing but the tiny Speedo, waiting for what she'd do to me next. She said she was going to remove my body hair. Because I was only going to Alberton for a year and not for good, she wasn't going to remove it permanently. The next best treatment she had lasted for about three months at a time; in three months I'd have to remember to go to a beauty salon to have it redone. She put some kind of portable machine beside my head, and then attached a mask to the machine. She said that she was going to give me laughing gas, like at the dentist, so the treatment wouldn't hurt. Then she strapped the mask over my nose and mouth. I began feeling very comfortable, relaxed, and sleepy. I came in and out of consciousness until she removed the mask and proclaimed, "Tada". She lifted me up and carried me back to the mirror. All the hair below my eyelashes was gone. I felt like a peeled potato. I felt my legs, and was surprised by how soft the felt. Then Pat rubbed some lotion all over my exposed body. She said it will make my skin beautiful and soft, and that for the next ten days I should use it morning and evening. After that, once a day would be enough. After the lotion had soaked in, my skin felt even softer. I found it very hard to believe what was happening to me. "Jeffy, I can honestly say that you are going to be the most beautiful boy in your class, the most pretty, the most popular! The girls will fight over who gets to sit next to you!" I liked the idea of that, and smiled. Pat then explained to me that from now on, I shouldn't let people see my nipples. In America, boys' nipples aren't considered private parts, but in Alberton they are, just like a girls' in America, so I must be careful to keep them covered. She said that the girls get really excited when they see a skinny boy with a really flat chest in just a small bikini top. And if the nipples are erect and tiny bumps can be seen through the fabric ? all the more excited they get. And just like the boys in America like seeing big bulges on girls chests, the girls in Alberton LOVE seeing a big bulge on a boy's crotch. Some of the "bad" boys get surgery done to make theirs bigger. Less "bad" ones wear bathing suits or underwear with a bit of padding to make them look bigger. But the good ones just use what they have. She recommended I be a good one ? I had such a great body that I didn't need to enhance anything ? I'd be most popular even if my penis was smaller than some of the others. Pat showed me the outfit she had brought for me to wear on the plane ? a tight, white, low-cut, short-sleeved spandex shirt and a black polka dot pleated short skirt. She said it's often cold on airplanes so she recommended wearing the skin-color tights she brought. She gave me a simple pair of white keds to wear with the outfit, and a bow for my head. All of these things she put in a small carry-on bag ? I'd change in the changing room in the boarding area. Pat put a few more things in the bag ? some pamphlets, some books, a list of important phone numbers "just-in-case" and some Alberton money. Then she told me to quickly put on my "boy" clothes, being careful not to ruin my hair. She hailed a cab, and before I knew it, had checked my luggage and pointed me towards the boarding area. She wasn't going to be flying with me ? my new "adoptive" family would meet me at the airport in Alberton. She wished me luck, and we parted. I went past the security check and headed for the boarding area. The boarding area for flights to Alberton was separated from the rest of the flights ? preventing a lot of problems. Close to the entrance to the plane were about twenty changing booths. While I was looking around, a man dressed in a stewardess' uniform greeted me and urged me to go get changed quickly since boarding would be commencing soon. I got in line, and soon found myself closing the door in the stall. I was a well-lit stall with a comfortable chair and a large mirror. Checking again that the door was locked, I set my bag on the table and opened it. Then I took off all my clothes. I realized I was still wearing the Speedo ? now I took it off, and replaced it with the white satin boys' "panties" that were at the top of the carry-on bag. There was a matching white satin "bra" (made for boys with no cleavage), which I also put on. Then I stretched the shirt over my body. It clung to me like a rubber band. I took the tights and slowly rolled them up my smooth legs. I got a big kick out of that, and noticed my penis was quite hard, straining against the satin panties. I stood up and pulled them up around my waist. Then I put the skirt on. It fit me well, stopping mid-thigh. I noticed, though, that it was a bit see- through. Then I noticed a little slip-skirt in the bag and slipped it on under the skirt. That solved the see-through problem. I completed the image, with the bow in my hair and a necklace and bracelet. Then I put a bit of make-up on, the way Pat had taught me. Finally I looked at myself in the mirror, and saw, looking back, a very pretty, "flat" "girl". "This is gonna be fun," I said to myself, enjoying the sensations the new clothes were giving me. I gathered up my stuff, took a deep breath, and nervously exited the stall. I noticed a bunch of girls my age kind of staring at me with big smiles on their faces. I walked over to a seat and sat down ? I noticed that the feeling of the silky tights brushing against each other as I walked was especially enjoying. I crossed my legs "girl"-style and admired them, as did the two girls (dressed like boys) who quickly sat down at my sides almost immediately after I sat down. Boarding commenced. I had a window seat. The middle and aisle seats were occupied by girls. I noticed across the isle the same arrangement: boy at window, and two girls. The girl sitting next to me began talking to me, flirting. She was obviously really into me, and I enjoyed the attention. Once the flight had gained altitude, two big burly female flight attendants dressed in pantsuits started walking down the isle, doing something. I couldn't figure out what they were doing until they reached me and were talking to me. "Are you Jeffy?" one of them asked. "Yes, that's me," I said, trying to put on the prettiest smile I could. I was trying to impress the two girls sitting beside me. "According to our records, you're flying alone. Is that correct?" they inquired. "Yes, that's correct." "Okay, I'm not sure if you're aware of this, but Alberton flying regulations require that all male passengers flying unaccompanied be handcuffed to their seats. It's just a safety precaution ? I'm sure you understand. Don't worry ? there's a call button on the armrest. If you need to go to the restroom, or to get up for any other reason, just press it and we'll come and unlock you." This was strange, I thought. I wasn't aware of this regulation. But I knew there would be lots of new things in Alberton, and I decided to just go with the flow. Kate, the girl sitting next to me, tried to act macho and said to the woman, "There's a mistake. Jeffy's not flying alone ? she's with me. I'm her guardian for the flight." The woman looked confused. "Is that true? Then there's a mistake with our records. Hmmm, that doesn't make sense. Jeffy, are you or are you not flying alone?" "It's okay, guys, I don't mind," I told the girls sitting beside me. Although I wasn't thrilled with the idea of being cuffed to my chair, I didn't mind it so much. Besides, deep down I knew that if these girls were anything like the boys back home, it would probably really excite them to have the pretty boy chained to his seat, right beside them, with no way to run. With that, the woman leaned over, grabbed my right wrist, and snapped a metal handcuff over it. She tightened it enough so there was no way I could escape, but not too much so it would hurt me. She then attached the other end to my armrest. I was now chained to my chair ? the thought of this made me hard. Then the other woman spoke to me. "We recommend you drink this," she said, holding a paper cup in her hand. Weird recommendation, I thought. But without thinking much, I said, "Okay." She held the cup up to my lips and tipped it back, pouring the sweet-tasting milky-like substance down my throat. I drank it all down like a good boy. "That will help you pass the time of the flight," the woman said, "and assure us you won't cause any trouble." Within half a minute I began feeling drowsy. "Pity you took the tranquilizer," the girl beside me said. "I was hoping we'd get to talk." By now I couldn't respond. I just looked at her with a weak, drowsy smile. The burly woman came back and instructed me to put my knees together. I couldn't move, so she leaned over and moved my knees for me. Then she covered me with a blanket, up to my shoulders. The last thing I remember before falling asleep is feeling someone's hand under the blanket, rubbing my thigh. Must have been the girl sitting beside me. I was out cold. I didn't wake up until the plane had landed and people were beginning to disembark. Unaccompanied male passengers were not unlocked or allowed to leave the plane until all the other passengers had left. Then the burly woman came by and one-by-one unlocked the handcuffs from the armrests, leaving them still attached to our wrists. We were told to stand in the isle, and the open end of the cuffs was attached to a long chain. All the boys and men were now chained together. Someone began to pull on the chain, and we all obediantly marched out. In the arrivals hall, we were kept on the chain until someone female came and identified us as theirs. It took a few minutes. Finally, I noticed a group of people presenting some documents to the official, and walking towards me. They introduced themselves as Mel and Paulie Jodies. They were my adopted family for the year. The official unlocked my handcuff, and the three of us moved to the baggage claim department. Mel ? Mrs. Jodies, did most of the talking, telling me how excited they were that I came to live with them, and how they were going to help me out in any way I needed, blah blah blah. We left the airport. It was a beautiful day. All around, I noticed lots of really pretty girls; all wearing dresses or skirts ? no pants. And then I realized that they weren't girls at all ? they were boys like me. The girls were the muscular ones dressed like boys. Weird, I thought. This IS gonna take some time getting used to! The Jodies' daughter Sam pulled the car up and we all got in. Mrs Jodies rode in the front beside her daughter, and Mr Jodies rode in back, beside me. During the way they tried to fill me in on the important information I needed to know about Alberton. They apologized about the handcuff business, saying it must have been really humiliating for me. I told them it was surprising, but not that bad. Sam began to explain. "According to the law in Alberton, boys and men are not allowed outside, unaccompanied. They must be accompanied at all times by a female ? a friend, a sister, a mother, a daughter ? it doesn't matter who, as long as they're female. We don't discriminate against males here ? I hope you don't think we do. We absolutely love males. It's just that everyone knows that while boys and men are wonderful and mean well, they're still irresponsible. So for everyone's safety ? both the males and the females, this law was passed. Young boys, under the age of 13, must be kept on a leash at all times. From 13 up they do not need to be kept on a leash (although some parents prefer to keep them on leashes until they feel they're more trustworthy), but they still must be accompanied." Mrs. Jodies continued, "Remember that, dear, because if you're caught outside unaccompanied, you'll be arrested and locked in a cell until one of us comes to free you; it will also cost us a pretty penny." The car pulled up to what appeared to be a police station. Mrs Jodies opened her door and left the car, and then opened my door. "Come with me please," she said. "You guys can wait in the car ? we should only be a minute." Inside the building we approached a clerk, who motioned us into a side room. Once there, the clerk sat behind a desk and asked Mrs. Jodies some details ? my name and their address and phone number. Then she asked me if I had any known allergies or other medical conditions. I told them I had none. The woman entered all this information into the computer and then a machine sitting on the desk, attached to the computer by a cable, produced a small capsule, about the size of a regular gel-cap that antibiotics come in. "That capsule contains all your personal information, as well as a small tracking device," Mrs. Jodies explained. The clerk took a weird contraption out of her desk ? something that looked like some sort of gun. I began to get nervous. "It's going to be implanted in where your neck meets your shoulder, under the surface of your skin. It's for your own safety ? all the boys here get it done." Neither the clerk, nor Mrs. Jodies, asked me if I was willing to have this done. The clerk merely walked up and placed a firm hand on my right shoulder. She then pulled at the neck of my shirt, exposing my bra-strap. I didn't think this was necessary, since my neck and a bit of shoulders were clearly visible, as the neck opening in my shirt was quite wide. She then held the gun to that point between my neck and my shoulder. "This will hurt a bit," she said, "but don't worry ? it won't leave a scar." With that, I felt a horrible, sharp pain in my neck. The clerk removed the gun and walked back to her seat. The pain continued ? I rubbed the area, and it hurt even more. "That's going to be a little painful for anywhere between 5 and 24 hours. You can use ice if it's really bad. Within about an hour, though, usually it's just a little nagging pain and not really so bad. "There, so you're tagged now, Jeffy. It's for your own good. Here, let me demonstrate," the clerk said. She then took another gadget that looked like a calculator with a big screen, and walked back towards me. I began to fear more pain. "All I need to do is point it at you, within three feet, like this, and? see? All your details appear on the screen. If you're ever in an accident and lose consciousness, or if your lost, or anything like that, every policewoman and rescue-worker has one of these on her at all times and can instantly know exactly who you are, who to contact, and so on. If you ever go missing, all we have to do is enter your name into a special computer at any police station, and instantly we can pinpoint your exact location on the computerized map. And, as a final safety precaution, a tiny device in your neck can emit a drug that will instantly paralyze you completely. If you ever get out of hand, and are endangering yourself or others, we can activate that too, remotely, from the computer in the police station. It's a wonderful invention and all the males in Alberton have had them for about five years now." With that, we got up to leave. I felt like my independence was taken from me ? it was hard at first, and I didn't want to complain and make a bad impression on my first day there, so I just remained quiet. My neck was killing me. We got into the car and Sam drove us home. When we got home, they began giving me a tour of their house, or more properly, their mansion. It was HUGE! But I wasn't feeling up to it ? I was still kind of down about the lack of freedom I now had, being tagged like a dog and forbidden to go anywhere on my own; my neck was still hurting like hell, and I was tired from the trip (strange, I thought, I slept the whole way). So I asked them if they'd mind postponing the tour, and if they could show me to my room so I could get a bit of a nap in. I apologized, but told them I had jet lag. They said that would be fine. Sam showed me to my room. It was a lovely room ? for a girl! Beautiful decorations on the walls and shelves; pink curtains and bedspread; satin sheets; it looked really girly, and I wondered to myself if I could really stand to be like this for a whole year. Sam said that a whole shipment of clothing arrived for me and was ready for me in my closet and drawers. I thanked him ? I mean her (man, this was gonna be hard!) for being so nice. She said she was so excited about having her own brother for a whole year, gave me a kiss on the cheek and left the room, closing the door behind her. I collapsed on the bed, clothes and everything, and was out in an instant. When I woke up it was dark outside. I fumbled for a light switch and the room lit up. The clock said it was 9 PM. I must've been sleeping for a while. I got up and stretched. The pain in my neck was almost unnoticeable, and I felt a lot better in general, being now well rested. I looked at myself in the floor to ceiling mirror I had been provided with, not believing what I saw. I noticed I looked untidy ? I had wrinkled the skirt pretty bad by sleeping in it. So I figured I'd better change into something else before heading out of my room. I opened the closet, then the drawers, and realized that I had no idea how to dress like a girl. I mean, this wasn't like those TV stories I once saw on the Internet where people were trained, or given lessons, or stuff like that. This was for real, and there were no lessons ? I had to wing it! Anyway, I did my best to do it right. I wasn't really sure what would be considered informal evening house wear. After a lot of debate and trying on things and more things, I finally finished debating, and put on a loose black skirt made out of T-shirt style material and a pink short-sleeve T-shirt. I took the stuff in my hair out, brushed, and then put in a ponytail with a scrunchie I found in a drawer. I took off the tights and replaced them with slouch socks. Now I looked in the mirror ? looked okay, I guess. To be continued? (Maybe)