Tabatha - Part 3 free porn video

Tabatha - Part 3 (Recall from Part 2: As I dreamt about taking some guy deep, I played with myself. My hands were constantly touching my little dick. Rubbing it, moving it, manipulating it like a woman's clit. The whole time I was wearing my sister's cheerleading outfit. Jens' skirt if flopped up on my midsection, as I lay on her bed, with my head dangling off the edge. My hand is down my tights and panties. I'm not wearing any shoes, so you can see my red painted toenails through my shear white tights. The half shirt is pulled up exposing my nipples. Occasionally, my other hand rubbed and pulled on them. You could see my long painted press on nails caressing my nipples. Finally, I opened my eyes and started pounding my dick. The strokes were short, because my penis is short. And, either because I'm so excited, or because I'm not much of a man, it only takes about 30 seconds before I shoot my load. Another successful fantasy. Another post-cum guilt trip. And, another mess to clean up. And, shit, another knock at the front door. Knock, knock, knock. Fuck! Now what?... *** I became a good cock sucker. It took months of practice. Every afternoon I'd come home and work the dildo in my mouth and down my throat. I practiced going deeper. I practiced the dildo down my throat for longer periods of time. I practiced long deep descents, getting my chin to rest on the fake balls at the base of the dildo. And, I practiced running the length of the dildo quickly up and down my throat, fast and furiously. While I was dreaming of being reamed by some hot young stud, I had my eyes closed. The dream stud was typically strong and cut. He was bigger than me, but not big and rippled with muscles. He was lean, long, and always well endowed. He would approach me as I lay on my back on the bed. He'd flop his heavy cock on my face and I'd begin to lick and suck on it. While I would dream, I'd manipulate the dildo in and out of my throat. Slowly and gently at first and, as I got going, the dildo would be run in faster and harder. I learnt to move the dildo in and out with proficiency. Occasionally I had trouble breathing and would gag or choke. Occasionally a little vomit would fill my mouth or shoot out if the dildo was still lodged in my throat. But, I was learning, and getting pretty good at taking the dildo deep, and taking it forced down quickly. Whenever I was finished I would dream that the guy would fill my throat and stomach with cum. It was unrealistic, but I would dream that there was enough cum for 20, if not 50 men. There was so much cum pumped directly in my gut, that my stomach would rise. I'd look like I was in the earliest months of pregnancy. As he withdrew it would fill my mouth and nose. Then he would cum all over my face and hair. Cum would be in my eyes, leaking out of my nose, dripping into my ears, filled in my mouth, dripping down my cheeks, and covering my chin, lips and forehead. I was lying real still, with my head hanging off the bed and the dildo was pushed all the way down my throat, when the knock came at the front door. I had just finished playing with myself. My dream ended and I had cum. Cum was all over my hand, the top of my tights, and my panties. A little cum fell onto my sister's sheets. Knock, knock, knock... I withdrew the dildo from my throat, and dropped it on the floor. It hit the floor with a big thud. I tried to wipe the cum from my eye and off of my face. But, there was no cum on my face. It was just in my dream. I grabbed a pair of white floral panties off the floor and wiped the real cum from my dick, my hands, and the outside of my tights. Knock, knock, knock... Shit! Who is at the door now? I pull up my panties and tights, and fixed my skirt. I pulled my shirt down. It covered my nipples, but despite my tugging, my lower ribs and belly remain exposed. I looked in the mirror to make sure my hair was not too much of a mess. My hair is long for a boy, but too short for the style of most girls. Sometimes when I'm messing around, my hair will pull out of the rubber bands holding my little pigtails on either side of my head. I love the look of pigtails, especially when I'm dressed as a schoolgirl or cheerleader. Bang, bang, bang... I peak out my sister's window. It's the UPS guy again. He is standing impatiently at my door holding a box. He doesn't look like he is going anywhere until someone takes the package. I'm panicked at first. ?I can't let anyone see me this way,' I think. But then I remembered that the UPS guy already thinks I'm a girl. He thinks I'm Tabatha and doesn't know Tatum. So, it would be weird for me to answer the door dressed any other way. In fact, if I was to change back into my regular clothes to answer the door, it may blow my cover. If I tried to be myself I might give myself away. I ran over to the front door and opened it. A big smile crossed his face. I just looked at this guy dressed entirely in brown hoping again that I can avoid having to speak. I was so unsure of my voice, even though I sounded as if puberty had passed me by. I didn't believe I could pass as a real girl because of my voice. "Ah, now my day is made," the UPS guy said in a delightful tone. "My dear Tabatha, how are you today?" "Fine, thank you," I responded trying to work my best girly voice. "Great! I'm glad to hear my best girl is doing well," he responded with an even bigger smile. "I've got another package for you." He handed me the package which was a medium sized brown box with no indication of who it was from. It was addressed to Tabatha and was about the size of two shirt boxes stacked one on top of the other. All of my time spent in department stores meant that I'm acquainted with the size of shirt boxes. I should be worried about all of this. I mean, this is another strange package coming from god knows who, for god knows what reason. This means someone knows something about my afternoon ?hobbies'. But no harm has been done. In fact, I've put my last two gifts to quite good use. I still watch the porn DVD from time to time. It is still very effective at making me horny. But, the dildo has practically become my boyfriend. Every day after school, after soccer practice and after band practice, I come home and we, the dildo and I, have sex. I'm worried about the package, though. And, I'm worried about my current predicament - of having to carry off being a girl named Tabatha. Was the UPS guy buying it? He sure seemed to. He even seemed to like me a little. Those kind words seemed a little flirtatious, if not inappropriate because of our age difference and the fact that we only met once before. "I need you to sign here," he said as he handed me his electronic tablet. He had strong hands, strong forearms, and strong legs. When he wasn't working, he definitely spent a lot of time in the gym. I signed the tablet. "Thank you sweetheart," he smiled. He looked at my signature, probably more out of habit than anything else. He looked up at me, the smile turned into a look of confusion, and he said, "Tatum?" My heart stopped. Warmth of fear rushed over me. A shot of pee released into my panties from my shrivelled, tired penis, before I could consciously command my muscles to stop it. It was a funny feeling to pee right after cumming. The path is always blocked by thick drying cum. So, the urine comes flooding into my penis but can't find its way out until enough pressure builds up to overcome the obstruction. I could feel a small puddle of wetness in my panties, probably spreading into my tights. "What?" I responded. The brown clothed man replied, "I'm sorry. I just thought your signature said Tatum, not Tabatha. I must be mistaken. Signatures are always so hard to read." I gave out a nervous smile and giggle. The smile returned to his face, and he started back to his brown truck. "Have a good day! I hope to see you again, soon," he said cheerfully and he was gone. I closed the door behind me and raced around the house looking for a knife or razor to open the box. I tore into it, wondering with both excitement and fear as to the contents. Inside was a note, an envelope and two additional boxes. The note read, "My dearest Tabatha, I have given you a gift for Halloween. I do hope you plan to go to your school Halloween party. Inside the boxes you will find two outfits. One is for you, and another is for a friend. Your theme for this Halloween will be a double date. Please open both of the boxes, and then come back to the note." I put the note and envelope to the side, and took out the two boxes. I opened the first to find clothes. Girl's clothes. Inside was a pair of high heeled boots, followed by a thong, a garter belt, a dress, and some stockings. Everything is fiery red. Everything is sexy. The boots are shiny, red, ankle cut boots with very high heels. I've worn my sister's slutty heels around the house many times before, but these heels look taller. The boots look very expensive, too. A tag says they are patent leather. They have laces that run up the front with a buckle at the ankle. The dress is small and there isn't much to it. It looks three sizes too small for me. The dress is also very red, like everything else. It's strong but stretchy, with a bit of a shimmer to it. It's so small. I can only imagine how stretchy this thing is going to have to be to cover me up. It simply looks too small. If I could get the dress on, I doubt I'd be able to breathe. The stockings are thigh high. They are silky and shear, with an opaque black strip running vertically up the back. The garter belt like the thong, is a lacy little number, with straps hanging down to attach to the stockings. To top it all off, there are some false breasts in the box, and a tube of some adhesive. As I pulled out each piece my dick got harder. I didn't think that would even be possible after what I'd just put it through minutes ago. But, this was exciting. I'd never had my own clothes before and, this outfit was hot! If I'd seen a girl wearing these things, I'd think she was begging to get laid. This is what chicks wear when guys claim they were simply asking for it. But, I don't think I'll wear these things in public. Fuck that! And, certainly not at school where everyone I know can see me. No way in hell! Certainly not on a date either. Who would I convince to go with me anyway? I opened the other box and the outfit is nearly identical, with the exception that everything is a bright, baby blue color and everything is smaller. There is no way in hell I'm asking anyone to wear this. No way. I put down the clothes and continued reading the note. "I expect you can find three guy friends to indulge our wishes. I expect you to find one male friend who is willing to dress in the blue outfit, along with you in the red outfit. Then I expect you to find two more guy friends to dress in tuxedos, as your dates. Both tuxes should have bow ties that match your dresses. One with a fiery red tie, and the other with a soft blue tie. That way you'll know whose date is whose. "I even planned your itinerary. You will get dressed and all made up at your house with whoever you choose to be the blue vixen. A limo will arrive and pick you up at 7:00pm sharp. Start getting ready early. It will take a long time to get ready, especially since you'll have to show someone else how to put on their things and apply their makeup. Don't be late. Then the limo will drive to pick up your dates. Once your dates have been picked up there will be plenty of time for hanging out in the limo. Since the party doesn't start until 8:00pm, and you want to be fashionably late, the limo will take you into the city and drive around. Feel free to indulge in the fully stocked bar. "You'll arrive at the Halloween event at 8:35pm. I expect you to have a good time with all of your classmates. It is Halloween after all. It is the time to be someone else. A time to let go of your inhibitions. Everyone will be doing it. "At 10:45pm the limo will pick you up and take you to an after-party. I expect you to find out where the most happening after party will be. Don't worry about drinking too much. You have a designated driver. Then at 1:30am the limo will pick you up from the after-party, and take your dates home. "However, you and the other little vixen won't be ready to call it a night. After dropping off your dates the limo will take you to the hottest Halloween bash at the most happening club in the city. Don't worry about having ID. Your driver will get you in the VIP entrance. The party ends at 4:00am. At 4:00am, and no earlier, your driver will take you anywhere you want. Home, or anywhere. "I know this all may seem very forward, so let me give you some encouragement. In the envelope you'll find something that I hope you will like. And, if you don't want to follow my itinerary, please know I will have no choice but to send similar envelopes to your family and friends. Don't fuck with me, Tabatha, my dear. Have fun! Your secret admirer" What the fuck...? There is no way in hell I'm doing any of this. I don't know who this ?secret admirer' is, or what they know, but there is no way I'm going along with this. I dropped the note and pick up the envelope. I ripped it open and emptied the contents onto the coffee table in front of me. Out spilled a bunch of pictures. Oh my God... Oh shit! There were several pictures, and they are all of me. One shows me standing in front of a mirror in my sister's red heels, red tights, and the red corset. I have my painted red lips wrapped around the tip of a red, white and blue popsicle. The next one shows me lying on my sister's bed. I'm wearing black lingerie and my sister's high heeled fuck-me boots. My heels are in the air, my knees are pressed against my ears, and I have a plastic bowling pin standing erect, sticking out of my anus. The others are more of the same. Pictures of me dressed as the sultriest whore you ever saw. I'm in various compromising positions. Playing with myself, sucking on various phallic objects, and sticking things up my ass. One picture was the worst of them all. In the picture I'm crouched on my sister's bed, wearing a pair of black high heeled boots. These boots are calf high and have thick laces that run up the front. I'm facing directly at the camera. You can see everything. My head is cocked back and I have an expression of ecstasy on my face. I've got both of my hands gripping this extra large, extra long sausage. I'm running the sausage up my ass. I look like I'm enjoying it. I look like I'm in heaven. Tears filled my eyes. All of my muscles were suddenly weak. I started to shiver. "Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Oh, my God," kept running through my head. Tears started to mix with the mascara and rolled down my cheeks. "Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Oh, my god." My chin began to wrinkle and my bottom lip began to quiver. All of a sudden I let out a crying burst. Spit came out of my mouth. Snot shot out of my nose and tears began to flow freely. I slunk down onto the floor and start to ball. "I'm screwed! What have I done? I've been caught. How stupid can I be? Why do I do this? Why do I dress this way? Why am I driven to masturbate this way? Why aren't I normal? Why did I have to let myself get caught? Why?" Those were the words that I didn't know if I was thinking to myself, or muttering out loud, "Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid." I felt awful. I was ashamed, scared, nervous, frightened, and angry at myself. I sat there, looking like a cute little cheerleader who just had her heart broken. Shaking, shivery, and crying. Feeling sorry for myself. I was a mess. Then, I heard a door shut. Then another. Shit! Sarah was home again. What timing. Fuck! There was no time to feel sorry for myself. It was bad enough that I had some secret admirer that knew everything. I couldn't let my sister know, too. I ran the emergency drill that I had gotten used to. I grabbed all of the evidence, ran to the bathroom, and locked the door. I bought myself some time. For a little while I was safe. *** so far I haven't even mentioned my best friend Chris. I'm pretty active at school. Chris, like me, is an A grade student. He's also on the soccer team and runs track. Chris is American, but his background is Asian. I think his dad is Korean, and his mom is from Canada. Chris lives not too far away from me. Close enough that we've gone to the same schools and we've been friends for as long as I can remember but far enough away that we are reluctant to stop by often. He's like me in many ways. He is well liked but not a superstar, he plays sports and is athletic, but he is not a star athlete. He is quick and strong for his size, but being part Asian, he's not all that big. His developing muscles are cut, but skinny. He often jokes around, with his shirt off he flexes his tiny, tone Asian muscles, and refers to himself as ?a lean, mean, fighting machine'. He and I were already talking about what we would do for the Halloween party. He wasn't sure yet, but whatever it was, it had to be outrageous. We talked about going as superheroes. I could be Batman, and he Robin. Or, I could be the good Spiderman, and he could be the dark alter-ego Spiderman. That should be good for many laughs. Or, maybe we could go as body builders. We'd each get a pair of those little Speedos the body builders wear, work out in the gym daily until we got a little more definition, and tan every day. Now, hulks we are not. But, us two going around in Speedos, flexing our muscles would be funny. Whatever we did, Chris insisted it had to be outrageous. Chris had two friends from the football team, Dave and Mark, who wanted into our idea. Being on the football team they were more popular than Chris and I, and had more to lose. But they loved the idea of doing something outrageous. They could be two more body builders, making the contrast between them and us even more laughable. Then there was some talk as going as ballerinas. The football guys would be the men, and since Chris and I were small, we'd be the chicks. So far these ideas were all talk. We hadn't signed up for anything yet. According to the note, the compromising pictures would get out if I didn't go as a slut for Halloween, and if I didn't convince my friends to join in on the double date idea. So, anyway I pitched the double date idea at them and they loved it. I really had no choice. It was convince them, or be outed. Embarrassment for one night, or embarrassment for the rest of my life, was my choice. Since it turned out that Mark and Dave weren't daring enough to dress up outrageously themselves, this idea suited them just fine. A double date was just the sort of thing that was absurd and funny, but they could still look good doing it. All the real risk was for Chris and me. Chris was a bit hesitant. I could see a bit of fear in his eyes as I discussed the idea, and as Mark and Dave happily agreed. "Shit, I can't wait to see Chris in a dress," Mark said as he let a gob of tobacco run from his lip into his paper coffee cup. "I bet those little Asian legs of yours are pretty cute!" "Hubba, hubba," Dave chimed in. Chris looked to me for help. But there was no backing down for me. It was a frightening idea to me, too. But, I had no choice, and I was going to use all of my influence to make sure it happened. "I don't know, he's kinda short," I said. "Maybe he'll look better in a pair of heels?" Chris was turning pale. He clearly wanted a way out, but I wasn't budging, and Dave and Mark seemed to like the idea even more now that Chris looked mortified. "I'm in," said Dave. "I'm in... Only if Chris will be my date," Mark said with a wicked grin as he spat again into his cup. "I'm in," I said quickly. Now everyone was staring at Chris, waiting for his answer. "You guys have to be kidding!" he said. "No way!" "You wanted to do something daring and outrageous, didn't you? What could be more talked about than this?" I replied. Again everyone was staring at him. "What the fuck!" cried Dave. "You are the one whose been talking about this Halloween thing. You're the one who wanted to do something that would shock everyone. Can you think of any better ideas?" Chris said, "What about the body builder idea?" "Fuck!" said Mark. "We canned that idea weeks ago. I'm not walking around in a Speedo all night. Are you in or not?" You could tell the pressure was getting to Chris. He had no allies. It was true that he'd been talking the talk about something big. But, now that we had an idea everyone wanted to do, he was chicken shit. "What's the matter? Afraid you'll like wearing a dress too much?" asked Dave. "Ahhh, no," Chris stammered. "Don't be a wuss," said Mark. "Come on," I said, "we're all in. This will be hilarious!" Chris moved his eyes away and looked down at his shoes. He had no allies in the room. "Ok," he muttered. "I'll do it." He looked up at us and said, "I'm in." *** The big day was getting close. I had to make sure no one backed out. If so my life was over. What I didn't know at the time was that my life was already over. At least life as I knew it. I give Chris a call. "Are you getting psyched up for Friday?" I asked. "Hell, no," Chris replied. "This is going to be so embarrassing." "Yeah, I know," I replied. "But, hey, people are going to love it. Besides, we have Dave and Mark with us. No one is going to screw with them. Therefore, no one is going to screw with us. They'll just think it's a riot, that's all." "You think?" said Chris. "Yeah, I know," I replied. "Hey, I hope you don't mind, but I took the liberty of getting us our outfits." "What!" Chris exclaimed. "What did you get? Please tell me it's conservative. We're going as nuns, or Quakers, or something like that, right?" "Well...," I said. After a long pause I replied, "Look, we are going for ?shock and awe' here. I got us something shocking. Do you want to come over and see it?" "No," Chris said. "No. I'll see it when I come over Friday afternoon to get ready. Until then, I just don't want to think about this any more. Look, I've gotta go." "OK. Fine. But, just remember, getting ready as a woman isn't easy. Get over here real early so we can get our shit together. This has to be good. I want us to be really convincing. I want people to actually think we're two girls from the next town over. Get here early," I commanded. "OK, ok. I'll see you around four. Dude, I gotta go." "Alright then. Bye," I said. *** I stepped out of the shower and towelled myself dry. Although I hardly have any hair, I shaved every last square inch of me. I contorted my body to check out my legs and my behind. For a guy or a girl, I'm pretty hot. I have no fat on my body and my muscles are long and toned. My mid- section may be one of my best features. My stomach is flat and cut. I particularly like to see myself when wearing my sister's corsets. The corset shrinks my waist a few sizes. My legs are long for my body. They look very sexy with no hair and my ass is better than any girl or guy I know. Not round and apple-like, like some girls I know. And, not flat like many guys I know. Just right. The perfect ass. Knock, knock, knock, knock... He's here. Chris is at the door. I wrapped a towel around myself, run over and opened it quickly. "Hi!" I said kinda awkwardly. "Hi," he replied. "Come in," I said. "Dude, you look scared." "I'm not looking forward to this," Chris says. "I can't believe I've agreed to this. Mark and Dave have been teasing me all week! At least it looks like no one at school knows yet. So, at least it will be a surprise. And, at least it will be shocking. I'm going to do this, but I'm looking forward to the night being over." I thought to myself that he doesn't know the half of it. And, how it's going to be a long night for at least the two of us. "Are you ready?" "Shit. Do I have a choice?" Chris replied. I hold out both of my hands. In one hand I'm holding a razor, and in the other I'm holding some shaving cream. "Awww, do I have to shave my legs?" Chris whines. "Look, I know you don't have much hair in the first place, but you gotta do it anyway." He let out a long sigh. "OK, give me those," he said and walked into the bathroom. "Get everything! Don't miss a spot. Your legs, your arms, your face, your chest, and especially under your arms. Not unless you want us to look like exchange students," I yelled. I cleared off my sister's bed and I laid out both our outfits. Damn, we would look hot. Although I'm nervous about being seen this way, I'm excited too. I'd never thought I'd do this in front of anyone, never mind my whole school but we have a perfect excuse. It's Halloween and no one will hold this against us for long. We might get teased a bit, but... Particularly because Mark and Dave are in on it. I seriously doubted we'd hear much crap from anyone. The dresses, the tights, and the garters are all lined up. The blue boots and the red boots are sitting on the floor, just below each respective colored dress. I pulled my thong out of its packaging and the label on the plastic wrap said, ?flaming red gaff'. Flaming and red it was but, what's a gaff? I pulled a piece of paper with instructions out of the bag. "For a realistically smooth crotch, this beautiful undergarment is designed to hide your privates giving you a sleek feminine appearance." "Heck, what will they think of next?" I mumbled. I stripped down, and following the directions, tried it on. I figured out what it was supposed to do. But, I think it was designed for someone whose crotch didn't already look like a woman's. I mean, I had boy parts but they were small. Real small. When I put on the gaff, it was tight, and pressed my little nub down. But there wasn't any length to pull back. You could see a little bump where my dick was. I liked to think of it as a giant clit. But, I know Chris will benefit from wearing his baby blue gaff. I've seen him in the shower, both after soccer and after track. His penis is small but at least it has enough length to look like a real dick. Not like my little dolly, as my sister Sarah would make me say. I knocked on the shower door. "What?" Chris yelled out from the shower. "How is it going in there?" I asked. "Dude, unless you plan on coming in here to see for yourself, don't ask," Chris responded with a tone of sarcasm. Thirty minutes later he came out. "All clean?" I asked. "Oh yeah. All clean. I didn't know how hard it is to be a girl. Shaving took forever. I wouldn't want to do that every day." I giggled, "yeah, I guess I wouldn't either. OK, we're wasting time. We got to put on our clothes and put on our makeup and, we still have to figure out how to walk and act as girls." Chris let out another sigh. "Here are your clothes. Now step to it!" I demanded. Chris belted out, "You gotta be kidding me! This is worse than I thought. Dude, this is beyond convincing. These clothes are just slutty. I thought we were going as girls, not whores. I expected a prom dress or something." "A prom dress?" I replied. "If you want a prom dress, then you can pick one out for next Halloween. But, you are the one that wanted to go for shocking. And, what you see is it. Now get dressed!" I was getting bossy. I slipped into my things. I rolled the stockings into my hand, then glided them up my shorn legs, like a pro. I put my gaff back on, and wiggled my dolly around until it was a little more comfortable. This thing is hot, but it was going to get more and more uncomfortable as the night wore on. I hooked my stockings to the garters. Then I looked over at the tiny little red dress on the bed. How this was going to fit me I'd no idea. I knew there was no getting at my feet once the dress was on, so I put on my boots first. The boots were shiny red patent leather, and ankle high. They had laces up the front and a buckle on the side of the ankle. The heels were high at maybe 5 or 6 inches and they were taller than anything I'd ever worn before. I knew they were going to be hell on my feet. I tugged, and tugged, and tugged at the boots. I would hold my breath, contort my foot, and pull. Slowly they made their way onto my feet. Tighter, and tighter they felt. Until finally, they were on. It wasn't going to be easy to get these off later. I tied the laces tight, and then snapped in the brass buckle with a click. Then did the other boot. I stepped in front of the mirror. ?Holy...,' I mouthed as I looked at my legs. They're hot! I shuffled around to see my legs and the boots from every angle. With these boots on, all I could do was shuffle. I wasn't used to anything like these. It was going to be tough getting around all night. I could only imagine that I was going to be in pain from my arches to my butt. I went to pick up the dress and then remembered the fake breasts! I'd almost forgotten them and so rummaged through all my stuff and pulled out the breasts and adhesive. I read the instructions and saw that it was straight forward. You apply the glue evenly, stick the breasts on your chest where they belong, and apply pressure for a few seconds. So, a little goop and then I hold them in place. I let go expecting them to fall to the ground but instead, I felt the weight of the fake breasts pull on my chest skin. It felt weird having weight on my chest. I could feel gravity pulling on my skin and I could feel the added weight being carried by my back. I felt top heavy and unbalanced. Now I have a constant reminder that gravity is present and some idea of why women wear bras. Next, I picked up the slinky little dress. I rolled it up, much like the stockings, and pulled it down over my head. I lost my balance when the dress was over my head, but luckily fell onto my sister's bed. These heels were impossible and the dress was impossible, too. Once I finally got the dress to the top of my chest, I rolled it down my body. It was tight and difficult to put on especially to get over my new breasts. I had to struggle, wiggle, squirm, and tug to get it on. But finally, it was on. Well, it wasn't much. The dress was like a spandex tube. It started at my chest, around my breasts, contoured my flat stomach, over my hips, and stopped just in the middle of my ass cheeks. I tugged and tugged at the dress but it never quite covered my ass. "I can't go out like this," I whispered to myself. ?There's no way I want anyone to see me like this. The dress didn't even cover my ass.' I tugged and tugged and tugged some more but to no avail. The dress was tight. I could breathe, but I could feel the dress push back against my chest and ribs, limiting their expansion. There wasn't a contour on my body the dress didn't reveal. The dress constricted my walking. I could only take tiny little steps and, I couldn't even think about bending over. If I dropped anything, it would be as good as gone. Chris came shuffling into the room, holding his dress in one hand and one of his boots in the other. He was wearing soft and silky pastel blue tights, with tiny pink ribbons running vertically up the back. He managed to get his gaff on. And he managed to attach the garters to his stockings on his own. However, he only had on one boot. "What's the matter?" I asked. "Need help?" "What is up with these boots?" he demanded. "Why do they have locks on them?" "What? Locks? Where?" I replied. "On the ankles! On the buckle! There's a lock!" Chris shouted. I looked at my ankles. Yes, the click! That was the sound of something locking! I reached for my boots, but the tightness of the dress prevented me from bending over. I caught myself before I really began to panic. My ass is on the line here. I've got to stay cool. I've got to pretend that I know what was going on. I forced the expression on my face to relax. "Oh... yes. These boots have locks on the ankles. They were the only boots I could find in that color, to match your dress. And, I got mine to match. Don't worry about that, I have the keys, and I'll bring them with me." Of course it was all lies. I didn't know there were locks on the buckles. I didn't have the keys and I had no idea how we were going to get the boots off. But, I had to pull this Halloween costume thing off, or else. I tried to change the subject as quickly as possible. "Look, we have a lot to do, and if we don't hurry, we're going to be late. Now get your other boot on and finish getting dressed," I demanded. It worked as after a moment of hesitation, Chris put on this other boot, and got dressed. It was difficult to straddle the line of getting us both ready on time, and pretending all these girly things were foreign to me. I had to pretend I'd never done this before. At one point, Chris got suspicious. He asked me how I knew how to put on all the make up. But I passed it all off to the fact that I had four sisters. Because his hair was short, I took the liberty of buying him a wig. It was the first time I'd bought a wig, but it worked out well. It fit him perfectly. Finally, we were done and not a moment too soon. The limo pulled up in front of my house just as I was spraying a sweet and flowery perfume all over Chris and me. "Guys love this scent. Rumor is that it has some sort of natural ingredient known to get the hormones pumping." I looked at Chris and he looked stunning. I couldn't believe my eyes. He entered in baggy jeans, dirty sneakers, and a gray t-shirt now, he was wearing a form fitting stretchy blue dress, with lots of shoulder and lots of legs showing - and even a little bit of ass. His fake breasts were modest and they were clearly a B cup. The dress was velvety, and the shimmer was altered by the light. It rolled over his breasts and clung to every inch of his body. Luckily his manhood was tucked in his silky, frilly gaff, or else the dress would give him away. Skin was showing from his lower butt cheeks to the top of his silky blue stockings. His feet were encased in a pair of shiny blue patent leather boots. The heels must have been 6 inches and the height of the heels forced tension into all of his muscles, showing off his legs, especially his calves. I felt the same tension in mine. If I didn't know any better, I'd guess this chick had only one thing on her mind - "I want to fuck". Of course, that was the furthest thing from the truth. There was nothing masculine about him and one look in the mirror revealed there was nothing masculine about me either. Just to look at us, no one would guess we were boys. I hoped that my crash training over the last hour would give Chris the skills not only to look like a girl, but to act like one. The point was to be convincing. The guys insisted that no one would recognize us. We had to convince everyone that we were two girls from the town next door, dressed as tramps for the Halloween party. The tramp part had been accomplished now, if we could only pull the rest off. The limo was awesome. It was a long black stretch limo with black tinted windows and silver trim. I think it was a Lincoln or a Cadillac. I'd never been inside a limousine before and it looked the sort of thing a president or an important foreign dignitary would ride in. The limo driver got out of the car and stood next to it with his arms folded, patiently waiting for us. I grabbed our two furs and two matching purses I'd purchased for the occasion, and hustled Chris and I out the door. He looked a bit uneasy scampering around in his heels but he managed. I figured he was doing ok, and was only going to get better as the night went on. We picked up the boys and they looked the part, dressed in fine tuxedoes. They gave us both flowers to wear only for the convincing factor, not because this was a real date or anything. After a few snide comments and sniggers, none of which eased Chris's mind at all, the limo took us around town and then to the party. There was plenty of alcohol in the limo bar. None of us drank very much so we experimented. We tried rum, gin, and tequila. Chris and I settled on some peppermint flavored schnapps, while the guys took to a bottle of bourbon. I was feeling a bit woozy and I'd had the least of anyone. The alcohol did the trick. It helped everyone start to feel more relaxed and care-free. "So, what should your names be?" Dave asked who was wearing a fiery red bow tie with his very expensive tux. He cleaned up well and the real girls were going to be digging him. Especially if they think he was there with some hot, older chick. If they bought into it, they'll be jealous. "Yes, names," said Mark excited by the prospect of naming us. "Chrissie!" He shouted, pointing at Chris. "You're my date, Chrissie!" Chris frowned. Dave giggled. "How original," Dave said to Mark. "You're creative." "Can you think of a better name?" asked Mark. "No. No, no, Chrissie is fine. What about this one then?" Dave pointed to me. "Tatum... Tatum... Tammy!" Mark exclaimed. "How about Tammy?" "Well, I don't think so. That's my sister's name. I'm not going out with anyone named Tammy. No, not Tammy," Dave said. "Tabatha," I suggested meekly. "How about Tabatha?" There was silence. Everyone looked at me. Mark's face changed from a look of surprise to one of joy. I think he was shocked that I was suggesting a girl's name for myself. "Yes, Tabatha. I like it!" he said. "Sure," said Dave. "As long as it isn't Tammy, Tabatha works for me." So from then on, we were Chrissie and Tabatha. As he drank, Mark started getting antagonistic and frisky. He poked at our fake breasts, tugged on our dresses, and asked why he couldn't see our bulges. We also began to find out that Mark was a leg man. At least he couldn't keep his hands off our legs. He wanted to feel the silky stockings and did so time and time again. He liked to rub along the tights and feel the transition between the silky smooth material, and our silky smooth shaven legs. At first there were lots of protests but as time went on, and more alcohol was consumed, Mark persisted, and managed to beat us down. By the time we arrived at the party, Mark's hand had been resting on Chris's thigh for the last ten minutes of the drive. He left it there, sitting still, but occasionally shuffling his hand or wiggling is thumb over the silky material. The party was fun and no one figured us out. Since we left our cares back in the bottles of alcohol in the limo, we had no problems letting loose and enjoying the party. I was out on the dance floor for hours dancing to a lot of good songs. Chris joined me for quite a while, too. Mark and Dave didn't have much interest in dancing because all of the guys thought we were fresh meat we were constantly being approached. Some guys would just dance next to us and strike up conversations. Others would grind up on us and cop a feel. At one point two guys had snuck up on Chris and turned him into the filling of a sandwich. They got close, real close and Chris was clearly uneasy, but he was trapped. The guy in the front, the one dressed as a pimp, slowly worked his hands up Chris's legs and lifted his dress a little further up his ass, while the other guy, the guy dressed as an Indian warrior (wearing not much else besides a leather flap in front of his privates) began to press his crotch onto Chris's bare ass. Seeing this, Mark came to the rescue and pulled the guys off. The only thing that prevented me from dancing all night was that my legs were in pain as was Chris. At least he said so much many times. He begged me for the keys to release him from his boots. My feet were throbbing and my legs were burning so I wanted out of my boots too. But, I had to make up excuses and distract him, because I didn't have any keys. Luckily for me he was drunk and gullible so I managed to blow him off all night. Mark and Dave found out about a happening after-party that only the popular people were invited to. So, we got directions and the driver took us there. It was fun at first but got boring quickly. As the night wore on more alcohol was consumed. A rumor went around that Mark and his date had tried some coke and couldn't be found for a while. Finally, Chris approached me at around 2am saying he wanted desperately to go home. He was drunk, disoriented, and tired. His words were slurred but his intentions were clear. His feet were killing him, and he wanted out of his boots. He'd had enough. We all got into the limo and the driver took the boys home. Dave fell asleep in the car but Mark was wired. He had some tobacco in his mouth and spat it into a cup. Since Chris was mostly incoherent Mark and I talked. He said he'd had fun. He said he was psyched out that we'd pulled this whole thing off. He was certain no one figured out we were Tatum and Chris, rather than two girls from the next town. He mentioned several times how hot we looked and, he repeated over and over again how if we were really chicks he would bang us both. Maybe even at the same time. He talked about us sitting on his lap, riding up and down on his dick. Then he talked about bending us over lifting our skirts and pounding each of us with his ?huge' dick. And, at one point Mark said something that made me wonder. He said something about Chris being good, real good. Did he mean good looking, convincing, or something else? Good at what? Good how? After the boys left, Chris propped up a little. He was definitely drunk and tired, but I think some of his slumping over was simply to avoid Mark. So, since he was partially faking, I couldn't tell how far gone he really was. Chris asked, "Are we going home now?" "Yes," I said. "We're going home right after we make one quick stop." I knew I was lying. I knew the itinerary. I knew that we were going to some bar to party some more and I knew the whole thing was prearranged. But, I think if I didn't embellish it a little, Chris would have mutinied. I reassured him that we had to meet someone at this bar, and that we'd go home right after we did. He protested at first, but then reluctantly agreed. I had to obey the note if I didn't want to be outed. We pulled up to the back of the bar, down some slight alley. The driver got out and approached the service entrance. He knocked and a window opened. I could see him talk to someone through the door window. Then he walked over to the limo and opened the car door for us. "OK," he said. "We're here, now come along." "But," I started to protest. The driver quickly interrupted, "Listen sweetheart, I've got my orders. This is your last stop of the night. Now, don't worry about a thing. You're all set. They're expecting you." He reached into the car and grabbed me by the wrist. He pulled me, gently but forcefully out of the car. He did the same with Chris. He then handed me a set of keys. He mentioned that our ?proprietor' had asked him to give us these at our last stop of the night. "Off you go," he said, and ushered us into the private entrance. Chris and I walked down the long dark corridor. The only thing that lit the way was the occasional blue fluorescent light. The lights made our dresses look odd and everything else look odd for that matter. Chris was stumbling because he was drunk and tired. He complained more about his legs and feet. He begged for the key to his boots and this time he seemed to have tears in his eyes. I put my arm around his and helped him walk down the hall. We emerged into a chaotic scene. It was crazy. Music was thumping. The music was loud and ominous sounding. Some sort of maniacal mix of techno, and heavy metal. The words sounded German. Thump, thump, thump, thump. You didn't just hear the music, you felt it. I could feel the vibrations reverberate up through the floor, through my boots, up my legs, and through my spine. I could also feel the sound waves hit me as they moved through the air. The base pounding into my chest with each beat. Thump, thump, thump, thump - it went on. People were everywhere. Well, not exactly people. I saw gorillas, and pirates, angles, and people dressed as team mascots. Everyone was dressed for Halloween. Only, it was more like a drug induced, sexually charged Halloween. I'd never seen anything like this before. The costumes fell into just a few categories. There were people dressed in full costumes like the furry mascots, a Winnie the Pooh, and two people who were supposed to be a horse. Then there were people who were dressed in nothing but their painted bodies. The paint was spectacular. It was almost as if they were dressed. The paint made for a second skin. One woman had her breasts painted as the eyes of an insect, with the rest of the spider looking creature painted all over her body. Another guy had an elephant painted on his mid-section, with his penis as the elephant's large trunk. Then there was the couple, a guy and girl, who were painted silver from head to toe. Much like the Silver Surfer super hero guy. They both had something in their eyes that made their eyes look solid silver. I mean the whole eye, not just the pupil. They must have had some special contact lenses in their eyes. It was scary. They looked mechanical, as if in a robotic trance. Then there were the fetish people. People dressed up in leather, in rubber, in spandex and other materials I didn't recognize. You could even break these people into two categories. I thought of them as masters and slaves. Many guys and girls had on intimidating costumes. They carried whips with them, big dildos, and other strange devices. The guys wore chaps while the girls wore thigh high platform boots, and the like. The slaves were unmistakable. They were faceless, to the person. They wore masks and other contraptions to conceal their identity. Some wore leather dog masks, and were led around by their masters with a chain attached to their leather dog collars. Actually one guy was wearing a metal chain dog collar with spikes used for obedience training. He had on leather mittens and boots that made his feet look a lot like paws. He had a tail sticking out his bare rare end. The tail must have been part of something solid that was stuck up his ass. This one big, hairy guy had several leather slaves that he led around by chains. There was a mix of guy and girl slaves. They looked uncomfortable. They were totally encased in leather and latex full body outfits. They had no control over their arms. Some were folded in front of the inside of the suit. Some had their wrists restrained by shackles that attached to their waist belts. Their leather booty ankles were shackled, so they could only shuffle around to walk. Each one had a leather or latex mask, which zipped shut over the mouth. Some zippers were in the form of a smiley face, while some were straight across. By the looks of their bulging cheeks, some of their mouths were full to capacity with something. Something was filling their mouths and forcing their cheeks to expand like balloons. Except for one slave, the lead slave I presumed, each one had either blindfolds that attached to their hood, or had integral black sunglass like material in the eye sockets. The lead slave was wearing heels that looked like they were 9 inches tall. They contorted his feet unnaturally, such that his toes were as vertical as the heels. How he managed to walk, I don't know. If my heels hurt, his must have been torture. They must have made him 9 or 10 inches taller too. How did he wear those things? How did he walk? How much pain must he be in? I caught a glimpse of the lead slave's eyes. I could see fear in his eyes. He was scared. His eyes pleaded for help. I knew immediately that this vision would haunt my future fantasies. I knew that being a slave was for me. In the future I was going to dream he was me. Hundreds of people, or pseudo people, were out on the dance floor. The music was pounding, and the people were jumping around, sweating, and grinding. I knew I wanted to get out there before the night was over. Being in this place gave me a sense of excitement, and a second wind. Chris and I sat at the bar. Immediately this shirtless guy ordered us two drinks. He was wearing only a pair of cowboy boots, tight leather chaps that revealed quite a bit, and a hat. His abs and his arms were totally rippled. He looked liked he worked out 8 hours a day, every day. I wanted to look like that. Or else, I wanted to dream about a person who looked like that. The bartender served our drinks. They looked fruity with red and white and some cherries at the top. I took a sip. It was delicious. Chris mumbled something about having had enough. But, our naked cowboy would have nothing of it. He encouraged Chris to drink and he did. We talked a little while, but then Chris said he had to go to the bathroom. I figured since we didn't see it on the way in, that the bathrooms must be down another hallway I could see. So, I pointed toward the hallway and Chris left. The cowboy convinced me to join him on the dance floor. Since I didn't have to look after Chris for a little while, I figured, ?what the hell,' and I went. The dancing was a total rush. The music was pounding. People were crowded all around, dancing and sweating. I was totally liberated. No one knew me here. I could be Tabatha. Guys were constantly bumping into me and rubbing up against me. Others would come dance with me. They were all worked up. The place was full of sex. Guys were groping me, and grinding on me. What felt the best was when they would run their hands up my legs. I loved the feel of strong hands over my silky nylons, my lacy garter, and lifting my tight dress. I loved the feel of strong hands grabbing my ass. I was nothing more than a sex object, and loved every minute of it. I was turned on. No particular guy did anything for me. I wasn't interested in them. I was interested in me - my fantasies. I loved being a woman for the night. I loved wearing all of these slutty, sexy clothes. I loved being sought after, hit on, touched, and manhandled. I loved being a sex object. I loved that I wasn't totally in control. Unlike prancing around in my sister's bedroom, I wasn't safe. One guy forced himself on me. He grabbed me and pressed his mouth against mine. He was strong and his grip was tight. His tongue pressed through my lips into my mouth without any trouble. I was scared and excited at the same time. I wasn't interested in him, but he was so close I couldn't even see him. I closed my eyes for a minute as he sucked my face. It felt good. Probably not the kissing as much as the forcefulness. I may have even participated for a minute. Then he pulled away and kept dancing. I got carried away. It had been a while since I'd seen Chris. Shit, did he get lost? Or worse yet, did he pass out somewhere? I felt responsible for him. I had to look out for him because he would rather be home and in bed, and it was my fault, I was keeping him up. I had to go find him and make sure he was ok. I made my way off the dance floor and searched around. I couldn't see Chris. The place was crowded, and it was dark. It was loud, which you would think shouldn't affect my ability to find him. But, the noise made me disoriented. I was operating on three fifths of my senses, and half of my wit. I lost the cowboy long ago on the dance floor. I didn't know anyone and had no one to ask for help. I kept looking. I went down the corridor that was the last place I saw Chris go. It was dark. There weren't any bathrooms back here. The long hallway led to another room, and another corridor, which led to another room and another corridor. The place was like a maze or more like a labyrinth. Each room was full of big cushioned benches. People were sitting around, waiting, smoking, kissing, doing drugs, and some were just about having sex. I asked some guy (at least I think it was a guy) in a cocktail waitress uniform if he knew where the bathrooms were. She pointed back the way I came. I got to what appeared to be the last room. No Chris and I began to panic. Where is he? Is he alright? Is he lost? Passed out? Did he leave? If so, was he alone? I was really scared now. I lost my friend. How could I do that? What if something happened to him? Then, I noticed a stairway that went up another floor. It looked like a place that the public wasn't supposed to go. But, it occurred to me that Chris may have wandered up there, so I better have a look. I walked up the stairs slowly. I didn't think it was possible, but the place simply got darker the further I went. I tried not to let my heels make too much noise on the wooden steps. But, with each step I ascended there was an unmistakable click. At the top of the steps there were several doors and more rooms. I opened the first door and there was a couple having sex. The guy on top was dressed as a vampire. Count Dracula I guessed. He was believable and frightening. He was fucking another guy up the ass. The guy being fucked was very skinny and totally naked, with nothing but a seashell necklace on. He looked like a blond surfer dude, with a surfer haircut. Lots of sweaty blond hair in his eyes, sticking to his face, forehead, and neck with his fangs embedded in the bottom guy's neck. It looked like blood was trickling down. I tried not to be noticed. I quickly closed the door and caught my breath. What if the same thing is going on behind all of the doors? I couldn't push my luck and barge in again but, then it occurred to me. What if Chris was behind one of these doors? Chris wasn't gay and he hadn't wanted to dress up as a chick. He didn't want to come here. I had to find him and get him home safely so I opened another door. "Hey! What the fuck?" this big fat guy turned to look at me as I opened the door. "Get the fuck out!" he yelled. He was fat. He was dressed as a sumo wrestler. He was wearing nothing but some black cloth wrapped around his crotch. You could see all of his flab and all of his rolls hanging down. He had these big flabby tits. He was big and he was angry. There were mirrors on all of the walls in the room, so it looked like there were four fat sumo wrestlers. His yelling startled me. I was about to leave, but as I turned away I noticed a pair of bright blue high heeled boots were sticking straight up in the air. The person being buried underneath that whale of a man, the person getting fucked by that fat sumo wrestler was wearing blue ?fuck-me' boots. Chris? "What are you staring at? Get out!" he shouted. "What are you doing? What's going on here? What are you doing to my friend? Get off," I said. The expression on the fat man's face changed from anger to fear. Not fear of me I'm sure. But, likely fear of being caught raping someone. "He was awake when I got here," he stuttered. "I didn't do anything." He withdrew his fat dick from his ass and began to get up. I could see Chris for the first time as he backed off a little. Because of his size, the man's penis looked small. But it wasn't that small, it was fat. It just looked small compared to him. It was still erect, pointing directly at Chris's gaping asshole, as if it wanted to go back in. "Get off her!" I said. "Get off!" The fat sumo wrestler released his grip from Chris's ankles, fixed his sumo diaper so it covered his erect dick, and scurried out of the room, all the while denying doing anything wrong. "I didn't do anything," he said again. Chris lay on a big cushioned platform in the southeast corner of the small room. His asshole didn't close and it was stretched wide open. Fresh cum leaked from his hole and dripped down his buttocks. There was some dried blood on his ass too. It looked like he'd had a period or something. He was a mess. He was soaked. It smelled of piss. He probably pissed himself. Or else, someone pissed on him. Maybe that was it, because he was wet all over. His wig was gone and his left eye was red and swollen. Someone must have punched or slapped him. He looked like he'd been roughed up. His panties were on the floor. His dress was pulled scrunched up in his center, pulled down from his chest and pulled up over his stomach. His fake breasts were missing, too. Dried cum was all over him. All over his ass, crotch, stomach, dress, hair, lips and nose, and his face. Most of the press on nails were missing. This was more than the work of the fat man. He looked so pretty earlier. Now, he looked liked he'd been beat up and gang banged. He slid his boots down the cushioned platform until his legs were relaxed. His blue stockings were still on and still attached to the garters. His eyes were half open. Chris was somewhat conscious, but not alert. He wasn't coherent, but he knew something was going on he didn't like. He was upset and began to mumble, "no." What had I done? Oh no this was my fault. Chris didn't want any part of this. He was reluctant to go along with our Halloween prank. He didn't want to dress as a girl, much less a slut. He didn't want to stay out late. He didn't want to come to this place. He wasn't gay. He was a troubling sight lying there on the platform in such a mess. His penis was flaccid, and his balls were pulled up tightly to his body. He partly rolled over and I could see his bare ass was flaming red. Some one had spanked him, and spanked him hard and long. "No," he murmured again. I rushed over to him to console him. "It's ok," I said. "It's going to be ok. It's me, Tatum. I'll take care of you. I'll protect you. I'm going to fix you up and take you home now. You're going home," I said softly and reassuringly. I fixed his dress so it once again covered his chest and his butt. I grabbed his gaff and used it to wipe up as much of the urine, blood and semen as I could. "It's ok," I whispered. "I'll take you home." To be continued....