Substitute Pledge: Epilogue free porn video

SUBSTITUTE PLEDGE... The Sequel By "c.c." Morning. Sunlight invaded my eyelids as I stretched luxuriously in my bed, feeling the cool flow of satin sheets across my shaved legs and voluptuous breasts... Breasts? I blinked awake, and suddenly the memories of the last three days came flooding back to me: How I, a wealthy male named Charles Pearson, had promised my niece, Bobbi, that I would help her with a sorority initiation by disguising myself as a woman - - - how Bobbi and her friends had carried the masquerade to extremes I never expected, making up my face, styling my blonde hair, shaving my body, and even giving injections to make me grow breasts - - - how, once I was feminized, the girls had ensured my obedience to their training by stealing all my clothes and money, trapping me in their apartment and dressing me in all sorts of outrageously feminine attire so that I didn't dare try to escape until they had trained me to move, speak, act, and even think like a woman... And then the awful sorority initiation, where I was surprised to see an old girlfriend of mine, one whom I had seduced away from her lesbian lover and then dumped a year ago. Now she was back with her old girlfriend, the President of the sorority! Both girls extracted a terrible vengeance on my feminized body, binding and spanking me, forcing me to run for my life through the campus streets, nearly naked, with another transvestite victim, a professional Female Impersonator named Carlie... I remembered how Carlie had given me clothes to get home in, and the agreement I had signed, promising to repay her. Wait a minute, I thought; There's something else I have to do! I sat up, fully awake now, remembering another promise I had made: My commitment to my ex-cleaning lady, Leola. I was supposed to be at her place by Noon. I looked quickly over at my alarm clock: Ten Forty-Five already; I'd better hurry! In the shower, I tried to organize my thoughts as the expensive mentholated shampoo I use oozed its tingling way down my ripe, smooth- skinned, feminine body... Leola had helped me out when Bobbi and her friends first stole my clothes, and in exchange, I had promised to act as her Cleaning Lady for a half-day, starting at Noon. Also today, I had to get back with Bobbi and get her to remove this thing that she and her two friends had woven over my crotch. I looked down at the blonde triangle of natural-looking female pubic hair that now covered my male genitals. I knew that it was only a wig, skillfully braided into my own pubic hair with super-strong surgical threads. But to all outward appearances, it disguised my crotch as a woman's, and only Bobbi and her two friends could remove it. They had promised to do this, so long as I showed up at their apartment by Six this evening. After that, they would be moving into the Lesba- Delta sorority house, and could see males only by special arrangement. Finally, there was my promise to Carlie, the professional TV who had untied me and given me clothes to get home in. Last night, desperate for clothing to get home in, I had signed a legal document stating that I would eitherpay her a hundred dollars by Six this evening for the use of those clothes, or else live and work in her club, a gay nightclub called FOXXIES, for a month as forfeit. All in all, it looked like I had a busy day ahead of me, I thought as I toweled off my voluptuous body. And the sooner I got started, the sooner I could be rid of this awful feminine disguise. I made up quickly, using the cosmetics that Carlie had put into my purse the previous evening. Bobbi and her friends had trained me well in this art, but I was a little hampered by the bold, brassy tones of the lipstick, rouge and eye shadow that Carlie had provided. Finally, I finished and looked at the result in a mirror. Deep shadowed eyes with long, dark lashes. Soft pale skin. Cheeks just a little too bright-pink, thanks to that rouge. Lips a full, passionate red. I stepped over to a full-length mirror in the bathroom to study the effect from a distance, and now I saw myself in my full feminine splendor; the crown of curly blonde hair that swept around my pretty face, the incredibly smooth and creamy tone of my shaved skin, the shapely, good-sized breasts that swung and jiggled on my chest, the narrow waist, wide hips and rounded bottom atop a pair of sensuously curving legs. And, at my crotch, the triangular fleece of blonde pubic hair. I stood there for a moment, amazed all over again that a man like me could have been so changed by a few college girls. I knew that beneath this disguise I was still very much a man, but seeing myself in the nude like this almost made me wonder Was there really a man inside this sexy female exterior? Of course there was, I told myself: I'm an affluent, good-looking male, and I'd better get a move on if I wanted to get back to my old appearance. Hurriedly, I dressed in the clothes Carlie had loaned me the night before. This outfit was really something! A pair of lacy red silk panties, too tiny to cover my bottom very well at all, followed by a matching bra that was equally inadequate for containing my-bountiful bosom. Black fishnet hose, held up by a thin black garterbelt, came next, and white sandals with three-inch heels. Finally, I slipped into the white mini- dress that buttoned up the front, and gathered my wallet, keys and credit cards into a tiny white clutch purse. Oh, how I wished I had something else to wear! I studiously avoided looking at myself in the mirror, since I knew I looked just like a cheap hooker. But all of my masculine clothes (which probably wouldn't fit me very well now anyway) were still in storage, and would not be delivered until sometime this evening. That's the problem with living near a college campus like I do: everything has to stop for a few hours on Football Saturdays, due to the crowds. So for now at least, it looked like I was stuck this way. I checked the clock: Ten 'til Twelve. I was going to be late getting over to Leola's, but it couldn't be helped; I had an errand to run first. Behind the wheel of my Mercedes, I felt a little better. I wasn't quite so conspicuous in an enclosed car like this. Of course, I got a few lecherous-stares when I stopped at the Bank Machine and took out Five Hundred Dollars, but I did my best to ignore them and concentrated instead on the comfortable feeling of having money again, for the first time in three days. During the short drive from the Bank to Leola's, I tried to psyche myself up for the embarrassment of seeing my ex-employee again in this feminized condition. I thought about the pleasant times the two of us had had, of the gentle way I coerced Leola into providing me with sexual services by threatening to fire her and frame her for stealing some of my Jewelry. Well, maybe it had been blackmail at first, but I think Leola had come to enjoy it. I certainly had! Leola is a tall, light- skinned black woman with intelligent, aristocratic features and long, straight, jet-black hair. Her breasts and buttocks were as firm and shapely as the rest of her gorgeous body (though not, I reflected, as large as mine were now!) and.. well, you just can't blame a man like me for taking advantage of her. Only it looked like the tables were going to be turned for a few hours now. Leola had gotten quite a laugh when she first saw me feminized a few days ago, and it had appealed to her sense of mischief to commit me to serve this half-day as her cleaning lady in exchange for helping me. And now, as I stood in front of her door, dressed in this skimpy, trampish outfit, I just couldn't help feeling a wave of nervous embarrassment. How would my ex-servant react at seeing me again this way, more curvy and feminine than she herself? And just what would this fun loving black girl have me do? My answer came soon enough, as Leola opened the door. "'Bout time you got here, Mr. Charles," she said, grinning widely as she took in my appearance. "What kept you? Been working the streets Uptown or something?" "Very funny!" I said as I minced in. "Honestly, Leola, I'm sorry I'm late, but you just wouldn't believe what I've been through." "Oh really?" Leola looked interested as she locked the door securely. "Maybe you better tell me about it -- all about it, so that as your employer, I can decide if you have a good excuse for tardiness!" "Oh no, Leola," I started. "It's much too ---" "Its 'Mistress Leola for today, Honey," she corrected, "And unless you want me to invite some friends over -- friends who will see you this way -- you better start talking!" Ten minutes later, Leola had coaxed the whole embarrassing story out of me, including the intimate details of my feminine transformation and the appointments I had to keep that day if I wanted to return to malehood. "My, you have got a busy day ahead of you!" she said when I had finished. "Well, I just may be able to help out!" "Oh great," I said thankfully, "just anything you can do for me, I'd appreciate, like maybe letting me out of this work --" "NO way, Baby!" she interrupted. "A promise is a promise, and I mean for you to live up to yours. After all, I worked hard enough for you for two years. No, I mean that maybe I can run one of your errands for you." "What do you mean -er- Mistress?" I asked. "It just so happens that I'm meeting some friends for a little shopping this afternoon, and if you want me to, I'll stop by that FOXXIES bar for you." "And drop off the money to Carlie?" I finished. "Oh, Le-uh, Mistress Leola, that would save me at least an hour. Would you? Please?" "Sure, Honey," she smiled. "I'd be real glad to handle that little errand for you. Now before I go, let me outline your duties for this afternoon." A short time later, Leola had taken off in my car, with my wallet, and I was busying myself with the list of chores she had laid out for me: Do the laundry, Clean the bathroom, Wash the car (which was why she'd taken mine). This was going to be better than I expected, I thought as I filled the washing machine with a load of Leola's white cotton work underwear. I had feared that my former cleaning lady might want me to dress up like a Maid or something, and insist on supervising my work personally. Perhaps even spank me! But instead, I had been left to carry out my assignment in privacy, without the embarrassment of Leola's giggling stares and teasing remarks. Confidently, I turned on the washer and headed for the bathroom. But this bathroom was going to be a major project. Leola had explained to me that it was used by a house guest who had just ended his visit this morning, and he had left this room in a sorry mess. Dirty toilet, dingy tub, hairy wash basin, and damp towels strewn all about. I hadn't been at the job for long before my clothes were soaking wet and filthy from leaning over that bathtub, and I was getting terribly uncomfortable, trying to work in the tight, sopping garments. That's when I had a stroke of inspiration. Dropping my cleaning tools, I hurried downstairs to the washing machine. Good, I thought, the cycle isn't too far along yet. Since I was still going to have to wear this outfit over to Bobbi's, I at least wanted it to be presentable. So I quickly unbuttoned my white nylon mini dress and popped it in the washer with Leola's white things. Then, after checking to make sure all the curtains were drawn, I slipped off my bra, panties, garter belt and nylons and put them in a laundry basket full of Leola's brightly colored work shirts and blue jeans for the next load. Nude now, I started back up the stairs to the bathroom, but I found the cold floor a bit hard on my bare feet, so I went back for my white high- heeled sandals. They made me sway and jiggle more but I had to admit they felt better. With no clothes to worry about, the bathroom was a much quicker job, and I soon had the toilet, tub, and sink shining and spotless. By then it was time to put the white things into the dryer, and the colors in the wash, so I did that before starting in on scrubbing the bathroom floor. After all, I wanted to be sure my things would be clean and dry to leave in. That done, I turned my attention back to the bathroom. I must admit, it gave me rather a funny feeling, scrubbing that small floor on my hands and knees, all naked like that. One wall of the room was covered in mirror tiles (just like my own bathroom, but on a much smaller scale; Leola must have stolen the idea from my interior decorator) and as I worked, I could see myself all too clearly, ass raised high, pendulous breasts swaying downward and swinging back and forth as I worked. My shaved legs and smooth back seemed incredibly bare and white, and my feminine makeup and hair style only added to the illusion. Worst of all, as I crawled around, I could occasionally catch glimpses between my legs, where I was so used to seeing my manly genitals. Now the only thing visible was the girlish triangle of hair that covered them. Finally, that unpleasant job was done, and it was time to get back to the laundry. As I put the last of the colored things into the dryer and carried the whites upstairs to Leola's bedroom, I began to consider my next project, washing the car. I had checked this out earlier and noticed that Leola's driveway where the car was parked, was surrounded by a privacy fence, her garage, and the wall of her house, so there wasn't much chance of anyone seeing me as I worked out there. But I had no intention of going out there dressed -- or, rather, undressed -- as I was now. Just the thought of being outdoors in the nude, all feminine as I was now, sent shivers up my naked back. No, I was going to have to wear something out there, and I didn't want to get my white mini dress wet again, so I really had only one choice. I was going to have to wear something of Leola's. I must admit that I found myself oddly, unexpectedly excited at the prospect of going through the closets and dresser drawers of this Black Woman with whom I had been so intimate. My fingers ran across silken dresses and evening gowns, peignoirs and nighties of peek-a--boo lace, delicate underwear, still carrying her scent, exotic stockings, shoes and boots... my heart raced as I pawed through all of this. But I finally settled on a pair of blue-jeans cut-offs and an abbreviated T-shirt that came down to just above my tummy. I suppose I could have selected something a little more conservative, but these fit me well and they looked right for car-washing, so I went with them Soaping and rinsing off Leola's big Pontiac didn't take too long, but I was glad I had thought to wear these things and go barefoot as it was a very wet and messy job. I wished, however, that Leola didn't have quite such a petite figure. That darn T-shirt kept riding up on my breasts, and it seemed like every time I bent over, the cut-offs came unsnapped. The skimpy things practically rolled off my hips before I could finish the hub caps! With this task completed, my assigned tasks were done, and I still had an hour before Leola was due back. Inside the house, I found, to my surprise, that the colored things were still damp. Must be tough to dry those heavy jeans and work shirts, I decided. So I set the dryer on High and tossed in the T-Shirt and out-offs I had been wearing. That should do the trick, I figured. So what to do now? I suppose I could have put my mini dress back on, but my stockings and undies weren't out yet, so I'd just have to take it off again. Somehow, I found my mind wandering back upstairs to Leola's closet. Well, I mean, I couldn't just run around naked, could I? So it was back upstairs, and another exciting search through Leola's clothing How long I spent there, trying on things, checking sizes, holding robes and dresses up to my naked, feminine form, I don't know. It seemed like seconds. It seemed like a lifetime. Finally, however, I settled on a billowy, hip-length nightie of purple, silk-textured rayon. At least it was billowy on Leola. On me, it was more like a slippery sheath of rippling purple, sliding over my hips and breasts, brushing my round derriere.... the feeling was delicious! And it was this I was wearing -- this and my high-heeled white sandals -- when Leola returned. I hadn't planned it that way. I had gone downstairs nearly a half hour before she got back and pulled the now-dry clothes from the dryer, taken them upstairs, and put them carefully away. But then, when I went to put on my undies, I found them torn and shriveled to almost nothing! Too late, I realized that these delicate synthetic fibers could never stand up to the High setting on a dryer. But what about my dress? I pulled it out of Leola's white cotton underthings and found that it too was ruined, puckered and shrunken to half its original size -- which was tight on me to begin with! I could never wear it now. Just then, the doorbell rang. I remembered Leola's final instruction to me to answer the door at her pre-arranged signal. There it was. I looked out the window and saw my Mercedes parked at the curb. So Leola was back. I looked down at the gossamer-thin nightie that didn't even completely cover my ass, realizing that Leola was going to see me like this. But I also realized that now I was going to have to ask this woman to get me something else to wear, and I'd best try to please her. So, blushing furiously, I hurried to the door in my heels and nightie and curtseyed as I opened it, eyes downcast, saying: "Please come in, Mistress..." And got the shock of my life. For there, at the door, were three smartly dressed black women! And no sign of Leola! "This must be the place, Girls," the tallest of the three said barging in before I could close the door. "Would you get a load of her?" "Hee, hee!" The second girl, shorter but ripely curved, laughed as she entered, carrying a shopping bag. "She sure must be one lazy Cleaning Girl to stay in her pajamas so late in the day!" "Ain't she something, though?" The third girl closed and locked the door from the inside, then looked me up and down. "Girls, we want our work cut out for us!" For myself, I seemed rooted to the spot, struck paralyzed by surprise and embarrassment, feeling awfully how much of me was exposed in this brief nightie, sensing the eyes of the three women running over my body almost like a physical touch. I was burning with humiliation, shaking with fear and confusion. What was this? What were these women doing here? As if reading my thoughts, the tall one walked up and gripped me by the jaw, her fingers clamping tightly as she pulled my face to hers. "Let me explain it to you, Miss Charlie," she said. "We girls belong to a club called hookers for Hookers -- That is right, we're whores. And we get real pissed off at kinky johns who like to beat women. That's right, Honey, Leola told us all about how you force her to have sex and did weird stuff to her. And she told us all about this queer mess you've got yourself in. Imagine, a man like you, looking like this!" Still holding my chin, she ran her free hand down over my silken-covered breasts, then up under my nightie and between my legs. I flinched and cringed as her knowing fingers explored there. It had seemed bad enough just to be caught like this by three strangers. But the fact that they knew my real sex and were in on the shameful secret of my transformation somehow made it ten times more horrible. "So this seemed like a perfect chance for Leola to pay you back," she continued. "And in exchange for a generous contribution to our club, we agreed to do the paying!" "Ummm-hummm." One of the other girls stood close up behind me now pressing her breasts into my back, even as her hands reached around and cupped my own boobs, pulling me closer to her as she whispered in my ear, "We gonna see to it that you get a real strong taste of your own kinky shit: Spankings, tie-up games, face-fucking. - - you gonna get a real educationtonight, Sweet-cakes!" "Tonight!" finding my tongue, I squeaked finally, "Oh, but I cant! I have to go...." The tall girl's hand shot out across my face with blinding speed. "Don't speak, Bitch," she growled. "Don't talk at all unless we give you permission. Understand?" She grabbed my jaw again and shook it. "Speak, Girl. Understand?" "Uurrgh!" I groaned, "I understand!" SMACK! "Call me, Mistress, Slave," the tall girl's voice was lower and more menacing than ever. "Understand? Speak, Slave!" "Yes, Mistress," I whimpered, scared out of my wits by her savage treatment of me. "Good girl!" The third women, the one carrying the shopping bag now approached. "I think she'll work out Just fine. Now let's get her suited up for her new job. After all, no Maid-Slave of mine is going to run around in such a shameless get-up!" All three girls laughed heartily. Then, while one of them stood by the door, the other two relieved me of my scanty clothing and proceeded to dress me closer to their own desires. It was a Maid's outfit. I knew it as soon as she pulled it from the box. A frivolous thing made of dark satin, with a leather corset built right into the bodice, low-cut and short-skirted and trimmed with yards of frothy white lace. A horribly trapped feeling came over me as my captresses dressed me in this thing. I knew that this must be a trick of Leola's to get back at me for some imagined slight. Okay, so maybe I pressured her a little hard to get her to go to bed with me, but you couldn't say I forced her. Could you? And the only "kinky shit" we'd ever done was when I had her go down on me. But there was no way I could explain that to the three harpies who now had me in their power. I would have to go along with them until some chance arose me to get out of all this, and hope to avoid some of their "education". But now the whores had finished dressing me, and they forcibly propelled me towards a mirror to look at myself. Walking unsteadily on heels that must be at least six inches high, I surveyed the result of their costuming. It was hauntingly, erotically strange. The shoes were indeed six-inch heels, shiny black, and terribly cramping on my feet. Above this, dark seamed stockings rose to my thighs, encasing my legs in alluring nylon. At their tops, a froth of gay white petticoats descending from my hips almost obscured the lacy white garter belt that tugged the nylons up to form-fitting tightness. These petties were so starched and fluffy that they stood out from my body at almost a ninety-degree angle, yet they were so short that beneath them, my black silk panties could be easily seen as I walked, and I knew that any bending at all would expose my pantied rear completely. Above this foam of white lace, my black satin maid's dress contrasted sharply. The skirt was so short that it barely covered my petties even as far as my hips. A silly white lace apron had been sewn directly onto the front, with an elaborate bow at the back that reached down almost to my knees. But instead of a conventional upper half, this dress had a crushingly- tight, satin corset sewn into it, pinching my waist in alarmingly and causing my bust and hips to swell out outrageously above and below it. This corset had half-cups for my breasts sewn directly to the top, underwired so that they lifted and thrust my treasures into sexy prominence. These half-cups weren't nearly deep enough to cover those enormous jugs of mine, but thanks to the white lace border running across the top, my nipples were barely -- and I do mean barely -- covered. Of course, this arrangement was strapless, leaving my shoulders bare. A white lace collar went around my neck, and a ruffled white maid's cap was pinned into my blonde hair, but the whole arrangement left me definitely underdressed, and the long, dangling earrings that the girls clamped into my ears didn't help a bit. CRACK! The back of a hand across my pantied ass snapped me out of my horrible contem-plation. "Got movin' Maid" One of my tormentors cackled. "We want our tea served up good and proper, and while it's brewin' you can dust the place for us." "Right," another one chimed in. "It will make good practice for when we take you to our apartment and set you up as our full time house-maid and part-time slut-substitute." "But before we grant you the divine privilege of being our slave, we're going to make sure you're up to the demands of the job," the tall one finished. "By having you service all three of us with your mouth while holding a dildo up your butt, then drinking our urine. That's what the tea is for! So you just think about that while you're in there fixing it, Sweetie. Now move!" "Oh! Uh-yes, Mistress." I curtsied, which set them all to laughing again, and scurried to obey. Now I knew I had to escape -- and quickly! I banged things around in the kitchen, checking to make sure the door leading outside was unlocked, and wondering how I could possibly out-run those tough women in this awful costume. Then, on the kitchen counter, I saw something I could scarcely believe; My keys and wallet! One of the girls must have put them there when they came in. What luck! Moving quietly, I scooped them up, slipped out the kitchen door, and ran quickly as I could towards my car. I was almost halfway there when I heard them coming outside in search of me. I risked a quick look over my shoulder and saw three angry hookers striding deliberately down the front way straight at me! Somehow, I doubled my speed, reaching my car seconds ahead of them. Trembling, forcing myself to concentrate, I manage to unlock the door. But I was too late. The girls were less than feet from me by this time, and I knew that the three of them could easily prevent me from getting in. Then, to my astonishment, the tall girl stopped, grabbing her ankle in pain. She must have twisted it, but that still left me to face two tough hookers all by myself. Surprisingly, however, both of them immediately turned around toward the tall girl, all concerned for her welfare. They seemed to have completely forgotten me! What was going on here? I didn't wait to find out. I was inside my car in a flash, locking the door. Not daring to delay, I quickly keyed the ignition. As I pulled out, I checked the rear view mirror, I could see them all three of them, standing on the sidewalk, laughing heartily, not the least bit concerned about my escape. How strange! I thought about this as I drove the few miles from Leola's house to my "niece" Bobbi's apartment. It was almost as if those women had wanted me to escape like this. Then it hit me: those women probably weren't hookers at all! They were probably just friends of Leola's who had concocted this act just to frighten me. Of course! That's just the sort of thing that would have appealed to mischievous Leola's sense of humor ---- to send me, her former employer, running for my life dressed up as a maid! I smiled in spite of myself at the cunning of her plan. Then, at a stop light I checked my wallet. Sure enough, a full Four Hundred dollars remained in there. So all that talk of a "generous contribution" to the Hookers Club had been just a story. Leola must have paid Carlie, then talked her friends into playing this wicked trick on me.... Well, it had certainly worked! I remembered how brief the maids costume that I wore now really was, and I shivered a little at the thought that I would have to walk clear from wherever I parked all the way to Bobbi's apartment in this get-up, with these frilly petticoats rustling at my thighs and my breasts bouncing and jiggling in my strapless, uplifted top. But there was no way around it. The clock on my dashboard said Five- thirty already. That gave me just half an hour to get to Bobbi and her two friends before they moved out of their tiny apartment and into the Lesba-Delta house -- where a vengeful ex-girlfriend of mine, Nan Boros, now shared a bed with her equally vindictive lover, Barbara Vogel, the president of the sorority. Just the thought of going near that place again sent a whole fresh wave of anxiety through me. I had barely escaped (literally: bare!) from the devious clutches of those female homos the night before, and I definitely wasn't eager to repeat that experience I was nearing Bbbi's apartment now in the off-campus area. And there, in the gathering autumn dark, I finally found a car-sized vacancy near the curb, only a few doors from her apartment house More good fortune! I hurriedly eased my Mercedes into it, gathered my wallet and keys, and got out. It took all the poise I could muster to walk the short distance from my car to Bobbi's apartment. I could feel dozens of eyes on me, amused, curious, lustful, studying my brief maid s outfit and smiling at the way my body bounced inside it - - - and almost not inside it! I could feel my skirt and pettis flipping up with each mincing step, exposing my swishing, scantily pantied bottom. The rustle of my starched petticoats was like a roar in my ears, and the whisper of my black nylons swishing together seemed to me like cymbals crashing. I kept my head up, trying to stare straight ahead of me and not look down at my bouncing breasts, so extravagantly displayed in this outfit -- or almost in it! I ignored the whistles and one rather persistent male somewhere behind me who kept yelling, "Hey Lady! Come back!" and finally made it to Bobbi's apartment. Bobbi's roommate Gina answered the door, her face breaking into an amused grin as she took in my brief, frivolous attire. "Well if it isn't Baby!" she giggled, "Come right in! My, what a charming outfit! Let me see behind you.... Oh my! You must really be getting into this! How neat of you to dress up as a Maid! And such a sexy one!" She turned. "Bobbi! Marie! Come get a look at this!" In an instant, my blonde "niece' Bobbi (actually, I'm just a friend of the family, barely seven years older than Bobbi, who just turned eighteen) and her long-legged, fiery-haired girlfriend Marie were practically swarming all over me, ooh-ing, and ahh-ing over my costume, flicking down the lace at the top to expose my pink nipples, and running their hands under the starched, frilly petticoats, showing off my lacy underpants. While they were doing this, I had a chance to glance around the tiny two-room apartment and I saw that I had been just in time. Boxes and bags filled with the girls' personal possessions were stacked near the door, and the place had the stark, open look of a vacant apartment. "You are just in time, Baby," Bobbi said, reading my mind. "We were just about to take off for the Lesba-Delta house. Of course, you could have come looking for us there. I'll bet Nan and Barbara would be just thrilled to have you back again! Were you really as shitty to them as they said?' "Of course not, Bobbi," I said, trying for some kind of dignity as the bosomy Gina ran her hands over the corset built into my dress, admiring its tightness. "But let's discuss it some other time. For now, will you girls please get that-that thing off my crotch so I can go back to being a man again?" "With these?" Gina ran her hands over my grotesquely-jutting breasts. "Some man you'd make! I really think you're much better off as a girl, Baby!" "Besides," Marie tossed her head imperiously, "I believe what Nan and Barb said about you! And anyway, we've already packed up all the stuff to remove the wig over your silly little cock and balls, so I guess you're just stuck that way." "Aw c'mon, Girls," I whined, tears welling up in my mascaraed eyes. "We made a deal, didn't we? I sure helped you guys out, now the least you can do is live up to your end and get me out of this fix!" "I guess you're right, Baby," Marie sighed. "We did make a promise, after all. Bobbi, help me unpack until we find that stuff to transform Baby." "And I'll remove the crotch-wig myself, since I put it on and know how the knots are tied," Gina said. She turned to me. "Okay, Baby, take off your clothes and head for the bathroom." I balked at stripping in front of these girls again, but Gina was insistent. "Let's go, Baby," she snapped. "I certainly can't work with all those pettis hanging down over your hips, and I'm certain you don't want to ruin your lovely stockings with any harsh chemicals. So strip!" Blushing (although at this point, I don't know how I had any modesty left) I began unlacing my dress in the back, slipping it off over my head, tugging my frilly petticoats down over my hips, unsnapping my flimsy garter belt and unrolling the dark stockings off my legs. Finally, mortified, I took down my panties. The girls laughingly pointed out that I had forgotten my silly maids cap, so I had to stand there, nude except for my shoes, and un-pin it from my hair while they ogled my thrusting breasts and shapely round butt. It seemed like forever before I at last tossed that lacy cap onto the pile of my other clothing on the floor! Meanwhile, Bobbi and Marie had had been going through boxes and suitcases, strewing their contents all over the place, until they finally turned up a tiny safety razor and two bottles of some unfamiliar substance. Then they began the job of repacking while Gina escorted me to the bathroom. "You'll have to sit very still now, Baby," she lectured as she seated me on the toilet. "I wouldn't want to slip up with this stuff." So I sat motionless looking up at the wall above her (after all. I couldn't see down over my breasts) while Gina knelt in front of me and began carefully loosening the metal clips that held the triangular wig to a web-work of surgical threads that had been meticulously glued to my own pubic hairs and woven into a confining net tightly over my cock and balls. Once the wig was gone, Gina said that the quickest way to remove the surgical threads was to simply shave my crotch, so she did so, leaving me completely hairless below the neck. Finally, I felt her rubbing a sharp, cold lotion from one of the bottles, over my privates. "What's that?" I asked. "Aren't you done yet?" "All finished now," Gina said, rising, "And to answer your question, that lotion I applied is a little going-away present from us girls--- to remind you of us and keep you properly humble in the presence of women for a few days. Take a look in the mirror." Rising unsteadily, I minced in my heels the few steps to the mirror on the bathroom door. And what I saw there was a crushing, totally disheartening shock! For there, reflected in the mirror, was my pretty, girlish face... my lush, feminine chest shapely shaved legs.... and between those legs, my masculine cock and balls reduced to less than a quarter of their normal size! My jaw fell as my hands scrambled down to my crotch. My balls felt no larger than buttons, tightly packed in a snug pouch. And my erect cock - - for it was humiliatingly erect -- why, I've seen cigarette butts bigger than that! Close to tears, I clamped both hands down over my tiny genitals in embarrassment and spun around to the laughing Gina. "Oh jeeze!" I gasped, bare breasts quivering as I shook with shame, fear, and the cold. "What is this? What have you girls done to me?" "Relax, Beautiful," Gina smiled casually as she gathered up her equipment, "That's just a special astringent lotion I got from the guy I know at the Lab. It has the effect of temporarily reducing size of whatever skin tissues its applied to. That coating I put on your manhood will only last a few days, but repeated treatment will reduce size permanently." "But why?" I asked, terribly bewildered. "Why put it on me?" "Boy, you are dense, aren't you Baby?" Gina smugly held a bottle of the astringent lotion out to me. "Haven't you figured out that what this stuff did to your cock it can do to your boobs?" She was right! All of a sudden, I saw this stuff as my salvation. The means that would enable me to shrink these massive feminine breasts that now bounced and jiggled on my chest back to more manly proportions. I almost snatched the bottle from her in my eagerness. "Just hold onto that stuff until you get home," Gina chided. "Now let's get out of this stuffy bathroom." "Right. Sure thing. Oh, thank you Gina!" I bubbled. I couldn't wait to get dressed again, get back to my own place and my own identity.... But outside, in the living room, I found yet another surprise. The apartment was empty! Bobbi and Marie had packed everything back up and left already, leaving a note that they would meet Gina at the Lesba- Delta house. But my relief at not having them see me this way was cut suddenly short when I realized how thorough they had been. As I looked around the room, I could see no sign of my Maids costume! "They must have packed it in with their stuff by mistake," Gina said when I squealed my protest at this discovery. "Looks like they got your wallet, too. Well, at least your keys are still here, though it looks like you're going to have a little trouble using them!" She looked me up and down, repressing a smile as she took in my lush, nude curves, smooth, skin, shapely breasts -- and my ridiculously shrunken genitals. "Oh Gina," I whispered, "What'll I do?" This seemed like the last straw. All this work, this running around today, to get back to my real sex, and now, when I was so close, another set-back. "Wait a minute," Gina said. "They left something behind the door here - -" She retrieved a small overnight bag and opened it. "Of course! It's Marie's dancing togs!" "Dancing togs?" I was trying to ward off the cold by hugging my shoulders and cover my privates at the same time. Clearly a losing battle. "What do you mean?" "You know," Gina explained, "A practice suit for her Ballet lessons. Like that dishy girl wore in FLASHDANCE. You can wear this stuff to get home in!" "This stuff?" I held up a tiny pink body shirt. "Are you kidding?" "It's either that or what you have on now, Kiddo," Gina said flatly. "Besides, you must have parked some place close. Surely you can manage a little walk out to your car dressed as a dancer." She was right, of course. And besides, she was leaving. As soon as I sighed my acceptance, Gina sailed out the door on her way to join her friends in their new sorority house, promising to return my wallet to me as soon as they unpacked and found it, and cautioning me to lock up here when I left. So there was nothing for me to do except don the dancers outfit. There certainly wasn't much to it! The body shirt was one of those stretch things that snapped together at the crotch and covered my torso and upper arms. Or almost covered them. It was at least two sizes too small, and stretched so tightly over the globes of breasts and buttocks that it threatened to burst. Next came leg warmers, brightly-stripped things covering my legs from thigh to ankle, and a pair of platform sneakers. White elastic bands for my wrists and forehead gave me a sort of athletic look and completed the ensemble. I didn't study myself in the mirror this way for very long; I couldn't stand to. One look at that body shirt, straining over my chest and bottom like an over-inflated balloon, was all I could bear. I just kept telling myself that it was only a short walk to my car as I packed the astringent lotion and my keys in the overnight bag. I kept repeating that I was going to look Just like a girl returning from Dance Class, that's all. Sure, I'd get some stares, but it would only be for a little while. For a moment, I was almost glad that my genitals had been temporarily reduced in size. In their normal state, they would have bulged very visibly under this skintight garment. Now, even with an erection that I couldn't seem to lose, they were barely noticeable. And so, with a determination born of necessity, I hoisted the bag over my shoulder and headed out to my car. I am sure, Dear Reader, that you have already guessed it. When I got back to the spot where I had parked, I saw only an empty space. For the first time, I noticed the sign: "NO PARKING ON FOOTBALL SATURDAYS" and the crowds of revelers. I had been so caught up in my own situation that I had completely forgotten about the game! So now my car was in a Police Impound Lot somewhere. And the money and papers I would need to get it out were at the Lesba-Delta house. Damn! Well, I couldn't Just stand there. And I certainly wasn't going to the Lesba-Delta house looking like this! In my present condition, I was sure that sorority president Barbara Vogel would make all sorts of demands on me in return for giving me back my wallet and that humiliating maids outfit. No, it looked like I was going to have to walk back to my apartment. The whole eight blocks. Forty-five minutes later, aching with exhaustion, blue with cold, and red with embarrassment at all the stares and comments I attracted, I thankfully turned the key in the lock of my apartment. I was home at last! Off the street and nearing the end of my bizarre four-day experiment in femininity. Feeling enormously relieved, I opened the door and entered. "Oh!" Came the feminine voice, "Quickly, Ann! Our girlfriend is here!" To my astonishment, a tall blonde woman in a white maid's uniform came mincing up to the door, followed by a shorter, more roundly-built, brunette, dressed identically. But I had no maids! What were these women doing here? "Greetings, Love," the tall one had slipped behind me and locked the door. It had been fitted with a new inside lock, and she quickly dropped the key to this down the front of her dress. "Let me introduce us: I'm Trisha and this is Ann!" Both girls curtseyed cutely, displaying their brief outfits. In my confusion, I noticed that both dresses had rather high collars and long, puffy sleeves, this in contrast to their rather short skirts. Although artfully made up, both girls had rather ordinary faces -- pretty enough, but just not quite as soft as women usually have. And their smooth- shaven legs, clad in white nylons, were maybe just a teeny bit on the muscular side. But all this was secondary to the shock, confusion, and embarrassment I felt at finding these strange girls in my apartment, acting as if they were right at home there! "Wh-who are you?" I asked, shivering a little as I noticed that both girls were openly admiring the lush curves under my tight body shirt. "What are you doing here?" "We're your new roommates!" The tall blonde named Trisha smiled. "But we're dressed this way tonight to help you with your debut!" Ann added. "A big star like you're going to be really should have her own personal maids!" "Star?" I repeated. This was becoming more bizarre, more unreal with every word they spoke. "But I'm not -- Who sent --?" "Your new employer sent us," Trisha took me by the arm. Her touch was gentle, but I could feel surprising strength in her arms. And in Ann's as she took my overnight bag. Both girls were escorting me out of the hallway, across my living room, and towards the bathroom as they spoke: "She just happens to be a good friend of ours, your employer," Trisha went on. "And she promised us the use of this nice apartment for a whole month, in exchange for us helping you become a star." "Just think," Ann enthused. "We get to help you prepare for your debut tonight, and for the whole rest of the month, well get to live with you, just like working-girls sharing an apartment, swapping clothes, telling each other our intimate adventures, throwing parties...." I felt almost as if I had been lifted up and plunked down in another dimension. What were these girls talking about? "Oh look, Trisha!" Ann held up the bottle that Gina had given me. "I've heard of this stuff! It's supposed to shrink certain skin tissues when you rub it on!" "Looks like our roomie has been using it down here," Trisha knowingly ran a hand over my crotch, then quickly unsnapped my body shirt. The stretchy fabric instantly curled upwards, revealing my ridiculously shrunken privates. "Oooh! How cute!" Ann giggled. "Stop! Stop it!" I pulled away, red with embarrassment, and put one hand down, tugging the front of my body shirt over my tiny genitals. With my other hand, I reached around behind me, trying to grab the back of my skimpy garment. "I don't know what you're talking about! I don't know who you are or who you're working for and I don't care! Just get out of here! Do you hear me, you tramps. Get out or I'll call the police!" Ann and Trisha exchanged a knowing look, eyebrows raised. "She's being just like Carlie said she would be, isn't she?" Ann commented. "She certainly is," Trisha replied, "And you know what Carlie said to do about that!" Suddenly, I felt Ann's strong grip on the hand I was holding over my crotch. Her fist closed about my thumb; twisting quickly she grabbed my elbow. At the same time, Trisha was enveloping my other arm in an unbreakable hold! "Here!" Ann grunted as she tugged my arm behind me, where Trisha seized it. "Hold her ... while I get ... these!" From a pocket in her apron, Ann pulled a pair of handcuffs. Moving with speed and skill, she deftly snapped them closed just above my elbow, pinning my arms tightly behind me. "Good work," Trisha loosened her grip now that the handcuffs were on. "Now for Step Two...." I opened my mouth to scream, but before I could utter a sound I felt a large rubber ball shoved roughly between my teeth. I tried to spit it out - too late! Trisha had already seized rubber straps that extended from each side of the ball, at the corners of my mouth, and was tying them tightly behind my head. "Mmpph!" I tried to yell, but what came out was a soft, muffled noise, barely audible. "Now maybe we can get this job done with a little less fuss," Trisha said. As she spoke, she grabbed my elbow-cuffs tightly in one hand and my gag-strap with the other, arching my neck back until I was helpless. "Yes," Ann pulled something from the cupboard under the basin sink "Some girls can be so much trouble!" I felt, but could not see, her fastening a pair of ankle-cuffs made of heavy rubber to my legs, joined together by a chain of six inches long. Then, when they were tightened to her satisfaction, she used the chain as a handle to hold my feet in the air as she and Trisha carried me over to a strong hook anchored in the bathroom wall, near the ceiling, where she hung me by the ankles facing the mirrored wall! "There," she sighed, "She won't be nearly so much bother now. What would you suggest next, Trisha?" Trisha said something, but I wasn't paying attention. For I'd seen something while they were carrying me over here and hanging me up, butt- out, by the ankles, that would have shocked me into silence even if I hadn't already been gagged: Each of these "girls" had a large masculine bulge in her panties! They were transvestites! Not girls at all, but men in women clothing, just like me! Or not quite. For Ann was now busy pulling off my shoes and cutting my leg warmers apart, even as Trisha was snipping the body shirt into little pieces that fell past my face onto the floor. I certainly wasn't wearing women's clothing anymore! In fact, I wasn't wearing much of anything now, except for ankle and elbow cuffs! Hanging there naked, tits mashing against the mirrored wall, I felt more nude and exposed, more defenseless than ever. Particularly since I knew now that I was at the mercy of two strong she-males. What would they have me do? "Yopui know," Ann said as she gathered up the useless shreds of my clothing, "Our roomie needs a nice fenny name!" She pitched te rags in the trash. "I have it: How about Cheriee?" "Well that certainly fits," Trisha slipped a hand between my smooth thighs and toyed with my tiny genitals - which were still erect! "Although after tonight, it probably won't! You're right, Cherie it is! Now what shall we put on her first?" "How about a bathing cap?" Ann busied herself again. "I have one right here!" All at once, I felt strong rubber being pulled over my head. But there was more to this! The tight smoothness went over my eyes. Short tubes went into my nose for breathing as Ann tugged the rubber down over my face and chin, securing it in the back with a zipper. Then, she adjusted it over my face, and as my eyes lined up with the eyeholes, I saw that I was wearing a crushingly tight, form fitting rubber mask! The life-like female face smiled back at me in the mirror. Her eyes looked wide and happy, her nose mischievously upturned, and her smiling lips covered my gag completely. As I hung there staring at her, I realized that with this bald-topped mask and my shaved crotch, I must now look completely hairless! "How cheery our Cherie seems "Trisha voiced her approval. "Will she always smile that way? No matter what?" "I know how we can find out," Ann said. "Here!" She tossed two hand towels into the sink and quickly soaked them wringing wet. Then she tossed one to Trisha. "Ladies first!" she chuckled. WHAP! I felt the hot wet sting of the hand towel snapping on my exposed bum. Smack! Smack! Two more spanks, cracking on my ass like rifle shots. I twisted and jerked spasmodically, trying to scream into my gag. But the only sound to emerge from my smiling rubber face was a satisfied, "Mmmm! " Slap! Slap! Slap! "This is no good," Ann complained. "She's trying to cover her bottom with her hands!" "I'll fix that," Trisha replied. "Come help me...." Working together, both "girls" removed the cuffs from my elbow and re- locked them in front of me, to my wrists. Then they got a second pair of handcuffs and, acting on pure inspiration, chained my wrists to my ankle cuffs! I felt more exposed than ever now, hanging there in a flesh ball, ass jutting, boobs thrusting out on either side of my arms, face pressed to the mirror.... "This does make her much more accessible, doesn't it? Ann ran a hand between my legs, making sure I was still erect, then darted a mischievous finger between my ass-cheeks. "Almost a shame just to spank her, isn't it?" "Yes, but you remember Carlie's instructions," Trisha retrieved her hand towel. "Besides, this looks like fun!" Smack! Slap! Smack! Slap! Smack! Slap! Doubled up as I was, there was no way for me to avoid the roar of blows that followed. I could only hang there, like a piece of sexy meat, as the two she-males laughingly pelted my poor, exposed bottom, mocking me with the sight of my smiling, female face. Crack! Snap! Slap! Smack! "Whew!" Ann said at last, "Tires your arms, doesn't it? Boy look at that rosy red glow though!" "Mmmmhmm," Trisha walked up and grabbed my breasts, using them like cushioned pads to lift my face up to hers. "Sweetie." she smiled. "That little get-acquainted session was just to let you know what to expect if you give us any more trouble or disobey us in the smallest way, or do anything to cause us the slightest displeasure. Now: Are you going to cooperate? Or do we turn you over and start again, using these melon-sized boobs of yours as targets?" Panic-stricken, not knowing what these shapely sadists had planned for me, but terrified at the thought of more spanking, I nodded frantically until Trisha at last understood that I was more than willing to do anything she asked. "Fine," she smiled. "Now let's get you cleaned up." With quiet efficiency, Ann strapped a strong rubber belt around my legs, just below the knees, and a matching collar around my neck. There was a metal clip on the front of each belt, and Ann used these to secure my neck between my knees, so that I was a tighter ball than ever. Then she knowingly worked another belt around my waist, this one with a strap hanging down in the back. "I really should have put this belt around your goodies," she reflected, "but they're so tiny, I don't know if I could find them" So saying, she took the strap at the back of my waist-belt, tugged it between my ass-cheeks, and fastened it tightly to my ankle-cuffs, after first removing every bit of slack. "There now!" What a sexy package you make!" With my head jammed between my knees this way, I could just barely see myself in the mirror, a round ball of soft, feminine curves, almost like a bizarre, flesh-colored beach ball! And that's just the way Ann and Trisha handled me. Using their combined strength, they unhooked my ankles, lowered me to the floor and rolled me over to the bath tub! "This should be interesting," Trisha said, preparing to lift me into my own oversized tub. "Right," Ann helped her lift "But I wish we had more time with her! There are so many things we could do to her, tied up like this!" "You are so right," Trisha sighed. "Wouldn't it be nice to coat her with vegetable oil and slide her around on the floor some?" Both girls lowered me into the tub, and Ann picked up a bottle of my expensive, menthol-scent shampoo, still day-dreaming out loud. "I saw an over-sized brass parrot cage in the living room, being used as a hanging planter," she said. "It'd be so neat to stuff her into that -- you know, with her mouth and bottom sort pressed right up to the bars? Then we could hang her on the balcony and make her sing for us!" "Oh well," Trisha picked up a bottle of shampoo herself. "Perhaps we'll get a chance later. For now, though..." "Right!" Ann and Trisha proceeded to pour two bottles of the pungent liquid all over my body, then work it in with their hands. Since it was quite dry, it didn't lather up, but just sort of oozed all over me, giving my skin a smooth, slippery sensation, which the "girls" exploited fully, sliding their hands into every crevice of my body. I should explain, Dear Reader, that my elaborate bath tub is equipped with two of those hand-held jet-spray shower-head attachments. It's always been kind of a fun thing when I had a girl over for the night -- but these "girls" had their own devilish use of them! Smiling wickedly, Ann adjusted the water from her shower-head so that it was hot enough to be quite painful, but not enough to scald or burn. Trisha simply turned her tap on ice-cold, and both girls commenced to fire them at me full force! 0HH! the incredible burning/freezing sensation! It was like taking a sauna bath and an ice plunge all at once! They fired the power jet sprays over me, spinning me about in the slippery tub with the sheer force of the water until I had lost almost all sense of reality. Finally, they ended it, rubbing me all over with big fluffy towels and finishing off with a blow dryer. "All squeaky-clean now, aren't you, Cherie?" Ann asked. When I made no move, she pinched my bottom savagely. "Aren't you, Cherie?" She repeated. I nodded as vigorously as I could. "Would you like us to take that bondage off?" I nodded again. I "If we do, you'll have to promise to do whatever we tell you. Understand? Anything! Well?" I had no choice. These two were going to do what they wanted with me anyway. But somehow, that never entered my mind. I guess at that point, my spirit had been well and truly broken by the sexy, painful, programming treatment they had given me. All I could think of was to serve these two transvestites to the best of my ability. I nodded. And in no time at all, I was free. It felt so good to stretch my limbs out once more that I almost forgot my embarrassingly un-clad condition. Trisha removed my mask and gag, giving me instructions as she did so. "Now when you can speak again, Cherie, you will of course use only a soft, feminine voice. You will thank us for each and every thing we do. You will smile pleasantly at all times, and you will address Ann and me in only the most loving terms possible: words like Dear, Darling, Honey, Lover... that sort of thing. Understood?" She pulled the gag from my mouth. "Yes, Darling," I smiled. "Oh drat!" Ann looked at her pretty gold wrist watch. "Not much time left. Let's hurry and dress you, Cherie." "Thank you, Sweet," I smilingly followed them into the bedroom where they had my clothing laid out. In minutes, I was dressed and Trisha was combing out my hair while Ann reapplied my make-up. But the outfit I wore was a strange one indeed! My only underwear consisted of garter belt and silk stockings if you can call that underwear! Both were of deep blue silk, and the stockings molded themselves to my legs, outlining every curve. Over this, I wore a dress of deep blue satin -- one that had been designed with a very special purpose in mind! The skirt portion was ankle-length and barely wide enough to accommodate both of my legs. Once I did manage to squeeze into it, I found that I was almost hobbled by its tight fit, which permitted me to move my legs only a few inches apart. Walking in this thing was made even more difficult by the six- inch black patent leather heels which Ann buckled tightly onto my feet. Above the waist, it fit almost as tightly as a corset, the strong blue satin encasing my sides and tummy. I noticed that the bodice had short ribbons at either side, and I wondered about this until Trisha smoothed a pair of fingerless, elbow-length blue satin gloves up my arms, buttoning them on irremovably, then tied the laces at the sides of my dress to matching loops on the gloves, pinning my silken-clad arms to my sides. So I was stuck like that, legs hobbled, arms held uselessly down at my hips, trapped in my stylish blue satin prison. But I haven't told you the worst of it. For this dress had three additional humiliating features: First of all, it ended below my breasts. That's right; it wasn't just strapless, it was top-less.. My bare boobs were completely exposed, and the way that outfit forced me to hold my arms and minced around certainly made the most of them! Second, in the rear of the skirt, there was a big, heart-shape cut-out, trimmed in white lace. The skirt was cut so tight that my round, pink bottom (bright pink, thanks to those two she-males!) actually plopped out through it, completely nude, jiggling shamefully as I swished about. And finally, in front, there was a similar, smaller, cut-out. That's right, my tiny genitals were out there for all to see, laughably erect. And there was no way I could cover them! Ann cheerfully tied an elaborate bow of blue velvet trimmed in white lace around my rigid tool. "There now What a pretty, bite-sized little Piece you have there!" she smiled. "What do you say, Hon?" "Thank you, Dearest," I smiled back at her, wishing I could of shame.. Just then the buzzer sounded, and seconds later the person we had all been expecting came in: Carlie Foxx, the owner of the TV bar, FOXXIES, who had sold me clothes last night on credit. Of course, I had figured out (as I'm sure you have, Dear Reader. the reason for all this, several minutes ago. Early this afternoon Leola, my former cleaning lady, had left with a hundred dollars of my money, promising to pay it to Carlie. A few hours later, her friends had returned with an expensive maids outfit. Obviously, Leola never had any intention of paying Carlie that money. I remembered what a mischievous sense of humor the Black Girl had, and I wondered if she was getting a good laugh out of this. For now Carlie was here to see that I paid her back according to the terms of our agreement: The hundred dollars was hours late by now, And last night, desperate for clothing, I had signed an agreement promising to work at her club for a month if I didn't get the money to her on time. "Well," she looked me up and down in all my satin splendor. "Looks like you're ready to start paying up!" "She certainly is " Trisha shot me a look that said I'd best remember my instructions. "Arent you, Cherie, dear?" Yes, I am, Love," I dutifully smiled back at her. "And don't you just love what we've done to you?" Ann prompted. "Oh yes, Darling," I gushed. "Thank you ever so much for - for everything." "My!" Carlie raised an interested eyebrow. "You girls have certainly done an excellent job on her!' "And not only that," Ann said, "but we have already removed every trace of her identity from this apartment. All of her personal papers have been mailed to a coded lock-box in a distant city, and that agreement you had her sign legally sub-lets this place for you for a month. Shell get her old identity back only when and if you want her to, Carlie!" "Nice touch," Carlie smiled her approval. Then she turned to me.. "Well, Cherie say goodbye to your nice apartment. And to your pretty girlfriends!" Meekly, I minced up to the tall, blonde Trisha, somehow keeping the smile on my painted red ups. "Thank you. Honey," I said. "My pleasure," she replied. And then she kissed me full on the mouth! Shivering with dread, I turned to Ann. "And thank you, Love," I said, "I'll miss you so m---!" My words were smothered by Ann's lips on mine. Finally, she broke off the kiss. "Anytime, Sweets!" she beamed. "There'll be plenty of that later," Carlie said knowingly. "Now, we'd better get back to the Club!" The walk out of my apartment, down the hall to the elevator, and out to Carlie's car in the parking lot was an agony of suspense for me. I quivered with apprehension that someone would see me in this bizarre fetish garb. But I was too cowed and frightened to resist, and Carlie calmly point out that none of my neighbors could possibly recognize me like this, and by the time anyone recovered enough from the outrageous sight of me to call a cop, we'd be long gone. This, however, did nothing to quiet my fears while I minced meekly beside Carlie, encased in blue satin, arms held tightly to my sides, listening to the rustle of my skirts and the whisper of my stockings brushing together as I swished along bare breasts jiggling, bare bottom bouncing, and, in front of me my silly, erect penis-swaying from side to side. It was awful! Finally, we were safe in Carlie's car, and I got up the nerve to tell her what I had been wanting to explain for hours. "Listen, Carlie," I pleaded, "I'll pay you back. I will! I'll double it if you want. Only please let me go back home! I'm not into this scene. Really I'm not!" "And what would you pay me with, Darling?" C?rlie smiled as she pulled out into traffic. "Ann and Trisha told me there was no money in your apartment, you didn't bring any back with you, and you certainly aren't carrying any now!" "But I've got it," I insisted. "I do! Surely you don't think I could live in a nice place like that and not have any money. I can pay you back, Honest!' "It's not worth the chance," Carlie said firmly, reaching in her purse for a cigarette, "I've met lots of guys in my time who live high but don't have two nickels to rub together. That's probably how you got into that mesa at the Lesba-Delta house last night! Besides, you're worth a lot more to me working at the Club." "What do you mean?" I tried to twist in my seat and look at her -- no easy feat in my satin cocoon. I finally managed to prop my shoulder against the door so that I could stay turned. "Simple," Carlie pressed the lighter in the dashboard. "Since you'll be working for free, I won't have to pay the usual waitress-dancer salary. Also, you are new here, and new girls are always good business for the club, especially if they act a little awkward or embarrassed; it lets the customers know they're getting a virgin." "Getting a vir--" I gasped. "You mean I-I'll have to --- ?" "That's right, Sexy," Carlie raised the lighter to her cigar as we stopped at a light. "You're going to serve the patrons in every way, Hon, and you'd better be damned good at i. .." Just then, a stroke of luck finally came my way. For Carlie unexpectedly fumbled the lighter, dropping it. It bounced off her dress, then down on her open-toed shoe. She cried with alarm, then reached down to retrieve it, keeping one foot on the brake. That was my chance. I leaned closer to the door, found the handle with grasping fingers, and jerked on it. The door sprang open, almost dumping me out, but I managed to twist around and get my high-heeled feet out the door. Carlie turned to me. For a second, she w