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HALLOWEEN SURPRISE by Throne Charlie took the bus to Helena's neighborhood and walked the final six blocks to her small suburban house. He was so thrilled that she had invited him to accompany her to a Halloween party, even saying that she had an extra costume he could wear. He hurried along, trying to regulate his gait, which often slipped over into a distinctly feminine swish. Charlie sighed mentally. He was very aware of is less than manly body language and the accents he added to what he wore -- a long scarf with tousles on the ends or a bright patterned bowtie -- that drew occasional stares. Had Helena noticed at the office where she was his boss? He didn't think so. She was always busy running the department, with her take-charge manner and decisive way of speaking. He checked his cell phone to make sure he was correctly following the directions she had sent him. He reached the corner and saw that the street he was on intersected with hers. Charlie turned left and, halfway up the block, found her house number. It was dusk, the night before Halloween, and the trees lining the avenue cast their shade over the sidewalk. He went to her front door and knocked timidly. A moment later the door was opened slightly and Helena peered out, looking down on him from her superior height. She was fiddling with an earring, one with a polished black stone dangling down from it. "Hi, Charlie," she said cheerily, her contralto voice projecting a sense of authority, despite the friendliness of her words. He put his phone back into the top pocket of his neat white shirt, straightened his colorful necktie, and gave her a sheepish grin. "Hi, Boss." She chuckled. "We're not at work now. But you CAN call me that... if you want to." He didn't understand what she meant but she was already pulling the door the rest of the way open. Helena was wrapped up in a voluminous plaid robe. The naturally commanding woman told him he could go to the bedroom and that she'd be with him shortly. He obeyed without question. When he got there he saw a costume laid out atop the bedspread. It was a maid's outfit: pale pink blouse, short skirt with bib front attached (both in a darker pink), frilly apron that was white with pink trim, pink stockings and color-coordinated shoes, glossy ones with three inch chunk heels and plastic bows. To one side of all that was a tiny white maid's cap and on the other a pair of pink panties covered in ruffles. He stared at everything with deep interest, even dared to reach out and feel the satiny material, which sent an electric buzz along his fingers and right through the rest of him. Charlie guessed that if she was going as a maid, his costume would be a butler's. That wouldn't have been his first choice but it was acceptable. After all, he would be encountering plenty of new people and didn't want to stand out. His innate shyness would be better served by something like butler's livery. Helena was suddenly behind him, asking, "So, Charlie, what do you think of the costume?" He turned to find her standing there in a snug black dress that showed off her curves, also baring her cleavage and leaving her thighs half bare. She had on plenty of eye make-up and her lipstick was a red so dark it bordered on black, and her mouth was heavily outlined. On her feet were a pair of flashy red heels. He turned his eyes toward the floor and said meekly, "I think you'll look... wonderful... in it." "Me? Oh no. That's for YOU to wear. I'm already dressed." Bringing her hand out from behind her back she held up a black riding crop. "I'm going as a dominatrix and you can be my pretty little sissy housemaid." "But I don't... I mean, I wouldn't want to..." He faltered and stood there, hands held out pleadingly in front of him, eyes going up to implore her and then dropping again. "You couldn't wear that? Really? That's not what I think. You're so good at taking orders already, on the job. And deferring to women. And sneaking peeks at us when you think we don't see. And most of all, checking out what we're wearing with more interest than most guys. Or should I say, a different type of interest." "I... I'm not interested in... I mean, in putting on..." "No?" She deftly plucked his phone out of his top pocket. "How about if I check your browsing history? Or your list of favorite sites? Hmmm? Would I find anything relating to... women's wear?" He made another feeble attempt to defend himself but it petered out within seconds. "I do have a sort of... interest in... things," he finished lamely. "That's what I figured out. And now you're going to shave off your body hair -- if it hasn't already been removed -- and get into that lovely sexy outfit." "Y... yes, Ma'am." "I'm a dominatrix, Charlie. Capital D Dominatrix. I'm sure you know the proper way to address me." "Yes... Mistress." "That's a good girl. Now get yourself out of those inappropriate boy clothes and let's see if you need a quick shave all over." As he began to unbutton his shirt he told her, "I don't need to shave... anywhere." "That's my clever little maid. All ready to get into her uniform." She swatted the edge of the mattress with her crop. "Get busy, Charlie. Or rather, let's call you..." She put the tip of one finger against her rounded chin and stuck out her full lower lip. "... call you Charlene. You'd like to be known as Charlene. Wouldn't you?" Again he lowered his eyes. "Yes, Mistress." "Good. But now look right at me and ask me to call you that." "Mistress, please call me Charlene." "I'll be happy to. And don't act so serious. It's only for a Halloween party. Right? Don't worry, your secret's safe with me. You can even tell people that you did it on a dare, or that you lost a bet with me. Whatever. Relax and enjoy it." He nodded wordlessly and resumed taking off his shirt. Next came his shoes and pants. He stood there in his jockey shorts, fidgeting. She informed him that she didn't intend to leave the room. And that she was going to look him over while he was naked. He cringed slightly but continued stripping. When he was completely undressed she made a circle in the air with her finger to indicate that he should turn around slowly, all the way. Helena observed him critically, appreciating how slender, unmuscular, and smooth he was. She also noted that he had the smallest penis she had ever seen on an adult guy. She told him that, not in a cruel way, but in a clinical tone, with just a hint of amusement. He blushed prettily and pressed his thighs together, wrung his hands like an upset girl, and pouted in a way that gave Helena a secret jolt of dominant satisfaction. She watched contentedly as he pulled the panties up his hairless legs, got the stockings on, and carefully donned the blouse. Charlie had a few seconds of confusion getting the skirt and bib combination sorted out. He stepped into the skirt, raised it and zipped it in the back, fascinated by how it stuck out all around. Then he pulled up the front and stretched a length of attached elastic, got it under the collar of the blouse, and patted everything into place. He held the cap over his medium length blond hair and hesitated. As if reading his thoughts she said, "No wig. I don't want you to look like a girl. I want you to look like a guy who's been forced to dress like a girl... by his Mistress." He settled the cap in place and felt two attached bobby pins, which he used to fix it to his locks. Finally he looked at the shoes, considering the challenge they offered. Helena sounded a bit sympathetic as she asked, "You have worn heels before, haven't you, Charlene?" "Yes, Mistress," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "But usually just in my bedroom, and never with heels more than two inches high." "Well, I thought that might be the case, so I picked these ones, with the thick heels to give you more balance. At the same time they're still very girly, especially with those bows, and will do plenty to shape your legs, which are being shown off so nicely. So slip them on and buckle those ankle straps." He sat on the edge of the bed and concentrated on what he was doing. With the shoes on he stood cautiously and took a few experimental steps. Then he stepped around the room, at first with longer male strides but then changing to mincing female movements. Helena smiled her acceptance. From her dresser she took one more item which, he saw with a shock, was a pink collar. As she held it up he saw that the name FiFi was spelled out in small glittering rhinestones. "What?" she wanted to know. "You put on the entire outfit and now you're going to make a fuss about this pretty collar? Charlene, lift your chin so I can put it on you." He hesitated for only a fraction of a second and then did as he had been told. She nimbly fitted it around his neck, closed it, and fastened the buckle. Then she attached a leash and gave it a test tug. "Very good," she decided. "And no, you don't have to get down on your hands and knees. I wouldn't want you ruining those lovely stockings I got for you." In a wispy voice he said, "Thank you, Mistress." She smirked and told him, "You're welcome, Fifi. Let's do your face and then we can get started." Charlie shivered slightly but then, like the sissies in the so many stories he had read on line, he took the hem of his skirt between thumbs and forefingers and did a neat curtsey. Helena said, "I want to see that whenever it's appropriate. And of course you'll keep speaking in that demure feminine way." "Yes, Mistress." Helena sorted through her generous supply of cosmetics and selected several items. She began with a light foundation, moved on quickly to blush, created subtle faux shadows to accentuate his cheekbones, fussed over his eyes long enough to make him nervous about what she might be doing, and finished with his mouth, which was outlined to make it appear more full, covered with deep pink lipstick, and than coated with wet-look gloss. She pointed toward her vanity mirror and he went there to take a look. Charlie gasped. In his crossdressing dreams he had never pictured himself looking so fully womanish, so perfectly made over. It was almost like peering at someone else. A vertiginous sensation gripped him for half a minute as he gaped at his exotic eyes and sensual mouth. The make-up was a bit exaggerated, but not cartoonishly so. It was just enough to assure that everyone who saw him would take a second look and probably a third. "All right," she told him, "time to go." Feeling disoriented, not wanting to leave the apartment, he nevertheless followed her out the door and down the back stairs, being careful on his heels, grateful that they weren't stilettoes, and out into the parking area. Luckily for him, there was no one else around. They got to the car and Helena opened her door and slid in. She closed the door and he tried the other side but it was still locked. He stood there, desperate to join her. She started the car. He wanted to tap on the passenger window but was concerned that it might upset her. At the exit of the lot, an opening in a cinderblock wall, a young couple strolled by. Charlie stepped back into a shadow that he hoped would make him less visible. That put him further from the car, out of its path as she surprised him by backing up. He stood there, shocked, as she turned toward the street and rolled forward. With no other option, he followed along as she crossed the sidewalk and pulled into the street. Was she going to leave him there like that? In his oh-so-sissy outfit? Helena drove halfway down the block and moved in alongside the curb. He hurried toward her, not able to run because of his footwear. Two guys came around the corner and started toward him, chatting with each other. They looked up and saw the odd figure moving rapidly in their direction, stopped, and waited. One of them pulled out his phone and aimed it to take a picture. Charlie stopped but didn't want to risk Helena going further away... or leaving him altogether. The guy with the phone was taking pictures and the other one was grinning and chuckling. Their subject felt his cheeks grow warm and knew he was blushing. At last Charlie reached the car but, to his dismay, the door was STILL locked. He dared to rap on the window and even allowed himself to whine, "Heleeena. Please. Let me in. Let me in... Mistress." The pair watching him laughed out loud. Helena opened his window a crack and called to him, "Strike a few poses for those guys." Now they both had their phones out. "Let them get some good shots of you, Charlene. Or Fifi. Let's go with Fifi for now. Ask those boys nicely to please take some more pictures." Feeling helpless, he faced the pair and smiled weakly. "Could you... please... take more pictures... of me?" "Sure, Sweet Cheeks," said the first one. "Turn sideways and stick out your butt." After he did that, hating every second of it, the other ordered, "Now get closer to us, suck your thumb and... mmmm... I know... tug your earlobe." Doing what he had been told to with both hands, Charlie felt utterly ridiculous. The guys both got shots of him in that ignominious posture. After they had made him assume several more self-shaming positions, Helena at last called for him to get into her car. With deep relief he opened the side door and threw himself in. She snickered, honked at the photographers, and drove off. "What do you say, Fifi?" For a moment he was speechless but then he figured out what she wanted. "Th... thank you, Mistress." "Good Fifi. Now let's get to that party. I can't wait to show you off to all the guests." He sank down in the seat and hoped he wouldn't be noticed by too many pedestrians or drivers. At he next red light Helena honked her horn. When passersby turned to check, she pointed to Charlie and then put up her hand and let her wrist go limp. They understood and were amused. Soon, to his relief, they were out of the congested area and on an open road. Unfortunately, that also meant that they were closer to reaching their destination. He didn't even know exactly where he was. If he jumped out of the car when she stopped he would be lost, looking like a total Nancy-boy. Charlie nibbled his lower lip and tasted lip gloss. All too soon they entered a suburb, turned into a residential neighborhood, and pulled up in the middle of a block where there were already plenty of other cars parked. Helena mentioned merrily that they should have gotten there sooner, because there were no close spots. The house they wanted was down at the corner. Charlie didn't want to leave the car. "Pleeease, Helena. Mistress Helena. Don't make me get out. I can't go in there. Not like this." He was quivering with nervousness. "Nonsense," she said, waving dismissively. "It's Halloween eve. I'm sure there are lots and lots of guys who have let themselves be dressed up like cute sexy maids, with their dates dressed as nasty dominatrix types." "I... don't think so...?" She took the end of that leash attached to his pink collar and gave it a tug. "Do I have to drag you down the sidewalk? And keep saying, 'Let's go, Fifi. Be a good little maid for Dommy Mommy'? Would you prefer that?" He swallowed dryly. "N... no... Mistress. Mistress Helena. Mistress Mommy?" His confusion tickled her. It also go her aroused. She rubbed her plump thighs together. But right now they had to get to the party. Another couple approached from the next block, also having had to park further away. The man was dressed as Julius Caesar and the woman as Cleopatra. Charlie wished that he could switch to a toga and sandals, and be crowned with laurel leaves. But no such luck as Helena released his leash and got out, letting him exit from his side before she took up the leash once more. He noted uneasily that she also had her riding crop in hand, holding up where it was plainly visible. They went toward the house where the party was and reached its front walk just as Caesar and Cleo did. "Hello," Helena said pleasantly. "I love your costumes." "Likewise," said the woman. She eyed Charlie with bad intent. "As the Queen of Egypt I should have servants. Maybe later I can borrow yours." "Yeah," seconded the man. "Maybe both of us can borrow him. Her. It." The three of them laughed while Charlie wished he could run and hide in the bushes fronting the house. They all started up the walk and when they got to the door Cleo rang the bell. They were greeted by a woman in full leather dominatrix regalia. As they went in the hostess and Helena began to discuss their different takes on looking like an enslaving female. The new Dom took a paddle off her wide leather belt and held it up. Helena made Charlie bend far forward and shove out his rump. The Dom gave it a playful swat, not hard at all, but still he yelped, as if to demonstrate what a wussy he was. At least, he tried to console himself, it hadn't happened outside. He curtsied and thanked her. As they went downstairs into a full basement, Charlie's eyes got wide. There were a dozen couples in attendance and Caesar and Cleo had the tamest costumes of anyone. There was a woman in a military uniform standing next to a short man who wore only a short pink nighty and high heel slippers, with a wig of blond sausage curls. They were conversing with two tall women, both with short hair and mannish body language, in tuxedos and vampire capes, appropriately each holding a Bloody Mary. Across the room was a pretty gal in a leather bondage outfit that left her so helpless that her companion, a man in leather shorts, vest and boots, held her drink and tilted it up to her mouth so she could take a sip before he set it down. There was even one unlucky guy, in the corner, who had been bound in a squat, his arms doubled up and tied that way, with a feathered bird disguise that made his bent arms resemble wings. There was a beak strapped to his face and a cap of feathers over his head. Standing by him was a tall Black woman in the guise of a lion tamer, complete with a whip. Charlie blinked and ran one forefinger around under his collar as the hostess introduced her husband, who had on a devil costume. The tines of his plastic pitchfork were red dildos. He offered to make drinks for the newcomers and they all put in their orders. Helena said that Fifi didn't want anything. After he returned with the drinks on a silver tray and the glasses were taken, he handed the tray to Charlie. The host said, "Let me get some toys from the playroom for our sweet maid here. And honey," he suggested to his wife, "how about if you get that plate of snacks from the kitchen." Minutes later he returned with several sets of cuffs. One went onto Charlie's wrists and another on his elbows. Then the host knelt down to put the final one on the frightened male-maid's ankles, afterwards running his hand up the inside of Charlie's leg all the way to his stocking top. Each pair of cuffs was joined by a short chain, so that Charlie's movements were severely limited. The hostess returned with a plate of tiny snacks. She had Charlie hold the tray he had been given level, and then she set the snack plate on it. "There," she said with a satisfied smile. "Now we have someone to serve all our guests." She gave his shoulder a squeeze. "Take your time, darling. I'm sure folks will enjoy getting to meet you." His stomach was full of butterflies as he began moving among the partygoers. First he approached the woman in military garb and the guy in a nightie. Charlie whispered his offer of edibles to them. The woman took a black olive with a toothpick through it and held it under the nose of her feminized companion. "You don't like these, do you Muffy?" "N... no, Ma'am," he replied meekly. "I... um... hate them." "Oh, good. Let's put this one in your mouth and leave it there. You can chew it very, very slowly, so the flavor will last a long time." She put it between his lips and pulled out the toothpick empty. The guy looked queasy. She used the pick to spear a square of cheese, took a cracker, and with slow deliberation, put them together and set them on her tongue, to draw them in and chew with pleasure. It made a strong contrast to how her partner was not enjoying what she made him have. Then she turned her attention back to Charlie and said, "I've been thinking of finding my sissy husband here someone to play with. He's straight, so that would be just soooo awful for him to experience. Do you think you'd like to be his sissy sister? Have a Pink Party together?" Charlie was so unsettled that he felt like he was swallowing his tongue. At last he managed to speak and had the sense to say, "You'd have to speak to my, um, Mistress about that." She gave him a twisted smile and said, "I might just do that. You sissies could have a delightful play date in his big canopied bed." To Charlie's relief she waved him away. He dipped at the knees, not able to perform a proper curtsey. Next came the two unfeminine women in tuxes and capes. He offered them the snacks and they each took a few mini-pretzels. The one on his left said, "Mmmm, maybe we should try a sissy who could be our obedient male lesbian." "Maybe," agreed the other. "This one is so unmanly that it'd be practically like having a girl in bed with us." "In bed or bent over getting her sissy fanny swatted." "Or polishing our boots while we make out with each other. I'll bet the sissy would get all turned on and might even cream in her panties." "That would be funny. And then, after she's spurted and is out of the mood for sex, then we could use her as our love slave. It would be so much fun to mess with her weak sissy mind like that." They each took a few more pretzels, raised their nearly empty glasses to Charlie, and then turned back to each other. He felt that he had been dismissed and was glad to move away from the pair. As he moved toward the guy in leather shorts and the girl who was so well bound, her arms behind her and drawn together in a bondage sleeve, he shuddered inwardly. She was so pretty. Her eyes were on the man who was obviously her Master, gazing at him worshipfully. He ignored her as he looked over the offerings on the tray. "Nothing for me, Mary," he said to Charlie. It felt strange being addressed by yet another female name, and especially by such a butch guy. Charlie turned toward the girl, not quite sure what to do since she didn't have the use of her hands. The Master spoke for her, saying, "Slave Bethany is saving her appetite. After the party we'll be getting together with several of my buddies and she'll be gulping down a belly full of rich creamy protein. Won't you, Slave?" She only nodded. Charlie felt sorry for her and yet, somehow, when he caught the look in her eyes, it seemed almost as if she desired what was going to happen later. Was that possible? If so, had she always felt that way? Or was it an attitude someone could be conditioned to have? He wasn't sure but was concerned about what the answers to those questions might mean to him in his present situation. His knees felt uncertain as he advanced toward the female lion tamer and her avian submissive. She helped herself to several crackers that were topped with bacon bits on cream cheese. Charlie stood there watching her chew. She was stunningly curvy but, at the same time, her superior height and short hair intimidated him. He found himself looking down at the food on his tray. She put a finger under his smooth chin and made him tilt his face upward. When she locked eyes with him it was as if his spine turned to jelly. He swayed slightly on his heels and licked his lips. She let him squirm inwardly for another half minute and finally said, "Aren't you going to offer my pet something to nibble on?" He looked down at the bird-sub, whose concerned eyes peered up at him from under that cap of feathers. How could the squatting figure ask for anything with that beak strapped over its mouth, or take it without the use of hands, or even eat? Still, Charlie wasn't about to defy the will of the tall masterful female. He asked the parrot-like submissive if he wanted a 'treat', the word coming out without Charlie thinking about it, almost as if he was dealing with a real bird. To the maid's surprise, the bird-boy answered with a series of tweets and twitters. Charlie noticed that the beak had an opening in its end and figured that there must be a device within it that allowed the production of those sounds. The imposing woman announced, "Birdy says he doesn't want anything to eat. He says that what he wants is for me to take him to the playroom, punish him for not being cheerful enough, and then put him into his cage and roll it out here so everyone can see how funny he looks in it." Looking down at her victim she asked, "Isn't that what you want, Baby Bird? To be squeezed into that small cage? That confined space? To be all cramped up in there? With no way to hide from everybody's amused stares when I roll you out here? Hmmm?" She snapped her fingers and went imperiously toward the door that the host had gone through to obtain the cuffs that Charlie was now wearing. The bird-thing shuffled along behind, trapped in his awkward posture, eyes on the lion tamer's full and shapely backside. A mournful little whistle escaped his beak. After he followed her through the doorway, another couple emerged. It was a full-figured woman in a halfway- transparent dress that clung to her outstanding curves, followed by a guy in nothing but a short camisole, stockings, and three-inch heels. She went up to the woman in military wear and her slave in lingerie. Charlie moved over there automatically to offer the new couple snacks. He heard the BBW say to the other, "I've been thinking about your offer while we were in the playroom, trying out the bondage table and some of the spanking implements." Charlie saw that the slave's bottom, where it peeked out under the hem of the camisole, was deep pink all over and highlighted with vivid red stripes. "How about if we get together next weekend," she went on, "and turn these two into real sissy sisters?" "Excellent. What I was thinking was that, at my place, we could put down some rubber sheets, get them almost naked, and pour warm baby oil all over them. And then they could demonstrate what total sissies they are and how much they want each other." "Even though they both still imagine that they're straight," the other female said and laughed, throwing back her head. Charlie went cold inside. That could have been him who was getting taken to an oily fate. He saw how unhappy the other two sissies were with what was facing them. And they would have the whole week to think about it, to anticipate with dread what they were going to be made to do. He was glad that Helena hadn't been asked for her permission to make him participate. Speaking of her, where was the gorgeous woman who had brought him? He peered around and saw her coming back down the basement steps. What had she been doing upstairs? Why was he accompanied by their host? And why did the tall impressive man in the devil costume look so well satisfied, as did Charlie's erstwhile date? The logical answer made him quiver. Their hostess emerged from the playroom. She had a guy, his soft body denuded of all hair, by the ear and was twisting it and leading him like a naughty boy. He was wearing a diaper and a frilly baby top, along with a bonnet, and had a fat pacifier stuck between his lips. There were booties on his feet. The host and hostess with their new partners got together and agreed that the evening had turned out wonderfully. "I'll say it did," agreed Helena, glancing sidelong at the man she had gone off with. The hostess laughed and said, "For all of us. Baby Bunting here is quite accomplished with her tongue. She said girls don't taste good down there so I..." She looked at the baby-playing male and wanted to know, "So what did I do to make myself taste better... down there?" He let the binky fall from his mouth and hang by the ribbon that was strung through it. "You put liquid soap on yourself... where I had to lick." His lower lip stuck out and his eyes were getting teary. "Well, remember that for next time, little man." She patted him lightly on the side of his face. "But we do appreciate that you paid for this entire party." He gave her a shy smile. Obviously he wanted the type of treatment she had given him. Charlie understood that he still had a lot to learn about this alternate lifestyle, which went so much further than just making himself pretty in private. He just hoped that Helena wasn't going to take him too deeply into it. The maid outfit was beyond what his dressing up usually included but it was still acceptable, sort of, kind of. And she hadn't allowed any of the guests to take advantage of him. At least he assumed she was behind him being left relatively untouched. Maybe she had sent the word ahead that he wasn't to be taken to the playroom, or to go home with anyone else. Now if she just didn't share him in the future, he would be okay. After all, he didn't want to be subjected to what any of the submissive guests had undergone. Did he? Really? Helena put her hand on the back of his neck and rubbed it. She said, "Let's get you out of those cuffs -- all of them I guess -- and take you back to my place. You can stay over and I'll get you home tomorrow. All right?" He gazed at her with a mixture of affection, trust, and maybe a little misgiving. Then he found himself looking down at her sexy red heels, which he all of a sudden couldn't look away from. His cuffs were taken off and he gave curtsies all around. Charlie/Charlene/Fifi felt dazed by everything that had happened. And the very real possibility that there would be more of the same -- or worse -- to follow. He didn't know what self-revelations he would experience over time, but he expected that they would come and that he would be changed in ways that could never be reversed. He wondered if he was ready to accept whatever happened. ************ (This story, especially the beginning, like my previous effort called COMPLETE SISSY CUCKOLD, was inspired by the art and writing of lil jo. Check at the end of that earlier one for the address of jo's sexy and entertaining blog. I'm sure she'd love to hear from you.)