Invitation To A Drag Club free porn video

INVITATION TO A DRAG CLUB by Throne I don't even know where to begin. They've given me this recording device and want me to tell my story. And by 'they', I mean the people who are keeping me here. Well, they're not forcing me to stay but I certainly can't just walk out, not looking the way I do now. Let me try to relate it from the beginning and explain everything as best as I can. It started on a Friday night when I got home from work. My wife Adele and I had plans to leave for our vacation. I had left my bonus check with her, and the instructions to put it in our savings account so we could use it to cover the airline tickets we'd bought, the rooms we'd reserved, and any charges we ran up while we were away. Our flight was due to leave the next morning. She seemed happily distracted. I asked her if everything was all right and she assured me it was. Then she told me that we'd gotten some good news. A friend of a friend of hers had gotten us passes to an exclusive club in the city, for a show in a few hours. I argued that we needed to focus on getting ready to leave but she was all excited about her new plans. I reluctantly agreed to go along. I mean, I've always tended to defer to her wishes. You see, Adele was quite a catch. She's tall and shapely, with a lovely face and sweet voice. I, on the other hand, am a pretty average looking guy. Nothing special. I even have an ordinary name, which is Barry. So I knew I had married above my station, at least in the looks department. We got dressed appropriately to enjoy drinks and whatever sort of entertainment the place had. You know, a nice shirt and slacks for me, a slinky red dress for her. Except that with her figure, Adele made what she wore look super sexy. When we went to the car she said she would drive, because she knew where the place was. Again, I went along with what she wanted. We drove into the city and to a neighborhood I wasn't familiar with. Down a dark street there was a walled lot with a security gate. She rolled up to the entrance and a young man stuck his head out of a security booth. As soon as he saw the pass she had been given to her hit the button that let us drive in. Once she parked among a few dozen other cars, we headed for an unmarked door. I thought it was odd that there wasn't any sign or anything to announce what the place was, but I didn't mention it. We were admitted by a doorman, after he too checked her pass. At the end of a plain corridor lit by recessed blue lights, we passed through a beaded curtain and into a long room with a high ceiling, a bar along one wall, and tables filling the rest of the floor. At the far end there was a low stage. An overdressed woman in a sequined gown, all glitz and cheap glamour, led us to seats about halfway back. She had a slightly husky voice and kept eyeing me up and down. As we settled in, my eyes adjusted to the dim lighting. I noticed that the bartenders were also female and similarly overdone, with heavy make-up and high wigs. It really wasn't my sort of place. Another female came over to take our drink order. She was slightly less flashy, in a sleeveless top and short-shorts. But even this one had an obvious wig, with bangs and long straight hair down to her bare shoulders, and the hairpiece was blue. And she was busty. I realized belatedly that all the women had big boobs, though none were exposing any cleavage. Adele ordered for both of us, some kind of house drink called a Creamy Mouthful. As the server went to the bar to get them, I noticed that her bottom was small in proportion to that full bosom. That was when I asked Adele if there was some sort of theme at this place. Were the women all supposed to look kind of tawdry? She gave me a look that suggested I was slow to understand what was right in front of me. Then she asked what I had expected from a drag club. I was shocked and wanted to know why she hadn't told me that was the sort of place we were going to. Adele was all innocence as she said she thought she had explained that. Suddenly I was very uncomfortable. The way the hostess had checked me over as she led us in had been off-putting, but also slightly flattering. I mean, women don't usually pay much attention to me. Now, however, knowing it was a guy in a dress, her interest became unsettling. The server came back with our drinks and, paying more attention this time, I realized that she too was a man in women's clothes. At the other tables there were traditional couples or small groups of women. Except that half of each pair and most of the all girl parties, were men in drag. There were a few of what I believed were true women but even with those I couldn't be certain. Adele acted faintly amused by my reaction. She told me to just relax and enjoy myself. I tried but it wasn't working, so I took a generous swallow of my drink. It helped but not enough. I've always had a nervous bladder and it began to make demands right about then. So I excused myself, spotted the restroom sign, and made a beeline for it. When I got there I found just one door, labelled HIS AND HERS. As I entered, the first thing I saw was a figure standing at a urinal, with the front of his party dress, along with layers of petticoats, held up with one hand. His other hand was on his penis, controlling his aim. Though I wanted to flee, I had to relieve myself and it couldn't be postponed. Standing in that person's line of vision didn't appeal to me so I went toward the booths. The first one had a pair of high-heeled feet showing under the door. Except that from their position I knew the person wearing them was kneeling. Then I heard a loud deep grunt and realized there were two people in there, the other seated on the john, and it didn't take a genius to figure out what they were doing. The farthest booth was also occupied, though by a single person. I had to take the one in between, which put me next to the busy couple. Their vocalizations prevented me from doing my business. I sat there with my pants pushed down as little as possible, trying not to hear those sounds of passion. Not only were there sighs and moans from the recipient, but the provider made wet sucking and slurping noises. It was unnerving and I had to wait until there was a loud finale, followed by an exchange between two voices, one high and the other low. What they said I'd rather not repeat, and I guess since it's not essential to my story that's not required. Anyway, I finally was able to relieve myself. Usually I'm fastidious about washing up but this time I was ready to skip that. But I'm also particular about healthy practices and didn't want to return to the remainder of my drink with unclean hands. So I did a quick rinse, soap up, and scrub. While I was using the wall-mounted dryer, standing there with warm air caressing my palms and fingers, another of the club's patrons came in. This one made me think of Raggedy Ann on LSD, wearing a poufy gingham dress, clownish make-up, and a red fright wig. She even had on shiny ruby shoes with squared off toes and three inch, chunky heels. Getting her face -- I'll use the female pronoun -- close to mine, she said that she could blow me than the machine I was using. As quickly as I could, I exited the restroom. On my way back to the table I was more conscious than ever of hungry eyes on me. I was the straightest looking male I'd seen in the place and that must have been a novelty. With my attention divided that way, I didn't notice until I was almost to Adele that she wasn't alone. Sitting next to her, too close for my comfort, was a well dressed man. Handsome. Obviously not ill at ease in our surroundings like I was. He leaned close to her to say something that made her smile. At least, I told myself, he must be as gay as the rest of the crowd in the club. My wife greeted me cheerily and introduced her companion as Mark, who had gotten us the pass to this bizarre club. When he thrust out his hand I automatically accepted it. He had a firm grip and gave a vigorous shake. I sat, feeling awkward, and gulped down the remainder of my drink. Mark said he wouldn't mind having something from the bar himself. He pointed out that our server was currently on her knees under a neighboring table, providing a different sort of service. The sight of it made me sick. I dimly heard Adele's friend-of-a-friend suggesting that I go to the bar and get us some refreshments. He told me what to order for everybody and that if I pointed to our table and mentioned his name, the drinks would be covered. It would have been awkward to refuse or even question anything, so I started back across the room, my head spinning. I was given the three glasses on a round tray, with the bartender, a svelte Asian TV, fluttering her long, obviously artificial eyelashes at me. When I got back, Mark handed round the drinks. As he gave me mine he nodded conspiratorially, as if he was letting me know there was some secret information I should know. I just gave him a subtle thumbs-up gesture, at table level, and took a swallow of my drink to show acceptance of him paying for the round, or whatever he had done. My wife acted a bit funny and I gave her a questioning look. She sheepishly told me she had made a sort of bet with Mark. Adele had entered me in some sort of contest and bet on whether or not I would win. When I asked if it was a drawing or something similar she explained that it was more of a competition. Mark identified it as a talent contest. He said it was an Amateur Night kind of event, with several non-professionals performing what he called 'stunts' or 'dares' and being judged by audience applause. That was definitely not something I wanted to do in a place like that. Adele bit her lip and told me there was more to it. The bet involved our flight tickets and room reservations, along with the understanding that, whoever won, the other party would also be responsible for any bills that got run up. I was stunned. This wasn't possible. But Mark happily said that he loved to get involved in 'little amusements' like this. When I tried to back out he got hard-faced for a moment, pointing out that at the club these matters were taken very seriously. When I said I would talk to management he raised his eyebrows, cupped a hand behind his ear and told me he was listening. My bride informed me that Mark was a half owner of the place, which explained his access to the pass and ability to cover our drinks so effortlessly. I felt queasy. Acting like the whole situation was just for fun, he told me I could go backstage and some of the regular performers would assist me. I got up on numb legs and stood for a moment. At Mark's urging, I took my new drink with me. It was large and blue and potent. Following his directions I went behind a curtain alongside the stage and through a door that led to the dressing area. There was a tall drag queen there, unwigged but with her face made up, and wearing nothing but panties and a short, loosely belted kimono robe. The latter garment left the front of those panties uncovered, making it very obvious that this person was all male where it counted. In fact, exceptionally male, if you know what I mean. I explained what was going on and she gave me a toothy grin, introduced herself as Glory, and told me to get undressed. It made my skin crawl to have to take off my clothes in front of someone like that. Glory watched intently as I got out of my shoes, shirt and slacks. Standing there in just my white jockey shorts, I felt utterly vulnerable. She pointed with her chin toward my only covering and wagged an extended finger downward, conveying that I should drop them. I did and stood there blushing all over. She gathered up my things and put them into a rainbow-striped shopping bag, then set it aside. Next she produced a large tube of hair removing cream. She offered to rub it all over me herself but I assured her I could do it alone. After I had smeared the perfumed stuff all over myself, with Glory offering unwanted comments, she made me stand there for 10 minutes while it worked. Finally I was allowed to step into a stall shower and rinse it all off, along with every strand of hair below my eyebrows. It felt so weird to be pink and smooth all over. I dried myself with a big fluffy towel and waited uncomfortably while Glory slipped into a shiny blue dress, applied blue eyeshadow, and settled a tall silver wig atop her head. Then she returned her attention to me. At the same time, other performers started to appear, all of them interested in me, who one referred to as their 'new sissy sister'. I cringed inwardly at the term but was more concerned with hiding my nakedness, even if it was with feminine garb. Glory handed me thong panties which I got into, then held out a dress made of stretchy material. I stepped into it and she worked it up my body while several of the others who were getting ready offered their opinions. When my arms were through the shoulder holes and it was zipped up in back, it clung snugly to my body. It felt funny over my bottom and a glimpse in the mirror behind me showed why. There were pads built into the posterior that gave me a protruding female backside. Then Glory stuffed plump breast forms down the front and worked them into place. I turned and saw that my figure was completely feminine. Glory turned to one of the other girls and asked her to do my make-up. This one was a tall Black TV, with dramatically high cheekbones and pillow lips. I had to sit and see my face in the mirror. She smiled devilishly as she went to work with foundation, gel pencils, lip-cover brushes, various shadows, and two sets of false eyelashes. I could see my masculine looks being transformed step by step. This one, who I heard the others address as Magic, was an expert. Soon I could barely recognize myself, which made me feel even more helpless. Next a bouffant blond wig with a large pink bow in the front was perched on my head and held there with some sort of pins. Several pieces of large plastic jewelry were contributed by various of the girls. Worst of those were what they referred to as door knocker earrings, so wide that they brushed my shoulders whenever I moved. I had to step into shoes with two inch heels. That might not sound very high but, if you've never worn them before, it's not easy to navigate in such footwear. I tottered around with Magic possessively holding my upper arm. At last I was declared to be done. Two guys in street clothes came in through a door in the back. They were swishing and limp-wristed. It turned out they were my competition. And if I couldn't beat them, I told myself, my vacation with Adele would be forfeited, along with any added costs the winner incurred. Those two had brought what they were going to wear. One dressed like a trashy, chesty prostitute. The other ended up resembling a schoolgirl, complete with an oversized lollipop, but also sporting bra-busting boobs. Glory was fully ready and preceded us out onto the wide but shallow stage. She introduced herself as Gloria Wholesome, but said they could just call her Glory Whole for short. Then she warmed them up with some off- color jokes, mostly about crossdressers hooking up with guys. After that, Magic went onstage. Glory announced her as Black Magic, and the woman who had done my cosmetics lip-synched a slow jazzy song from the 1940s. After that there was an overweight dragger in a bright polka dot dress who suddenly appeared from a corner of the dressing room and swept straight out onto stage, waving her arms around and talking loudly even before she left the dressing room. She did stand-up comedy and her stage name was Mother Inferior. Most of her humor was self-deprecating, making fun of her weight, flamboyant personality, and especially what she said was a penis 'the size of an acorn... and that's when it's hard'. After she earned lots of raucous laughter and backed offstage bowing, tossing in a last comment about her fake knockers trying to escape her dress, Glory went back on. She did some more chatter, asked a few audience members innocuous questions, and used their answers to go off on lewd tangents. Magic let me know that the contest was next. She told me to just do whatever I was told and check the others to see how they were performing. Then she gave me a kiss on the ear, including a flick of her wet tongue, and patted my padded bottom, telling me it was for luck. That intimate contact just made me more nervous. At last the three contestants were summoned onto the stage, where we were met with enthusiastic applause. Magic followed us out and took up a spot alongside a low table. There was a pink cloth over the table, with shapes visible beneath it. I couldn't be sure what was hidden there. Glory had us each step up to her and speak into a hand mike, as she fired off leading questions. The other two hopefuls tried to give clever answers but only partially succeeded. I tried to be straightforward and my worried sincerity amused the audience to the point where I got a better reaction then the two who went ahead of me. Well, I did want to win. Then Glory pointed out that I hadn't told her my name. The others had and as frightened as I was I didn't remember them. I started to speak, stumbling over my words, when she silenced me with a finger against my lips. She called me silly and pointed out that she didn't want my boy name. She wanted my girl name. I had a vague idea that sometimes a guy would take his masculine name and alter it to something similar but feminine. Like Bob becoming Barbara or Steven turning into Steffanie. So instead of Barry I called myself Berry, which was all I could think of. Then I cleared my throat and remembered to use a higher voice. An inspiration struck me and I spoke again, sounding more girly, and expanding my new identity to Strawberry. Glory put her hand on my shoulder and suggested to the audience that my new name was like the mark left by a love bite on the neck. Then she brought her open mouth close to my jugular and pretended to use her teeth on my skin. I flinched but tried not to show how much that unsettled me. It was time for the first event. Magic pulled the cover partway off the table, just enough to reveal three long rubber penises. She took the dildoes and handed one to each of us contestants. The other two held their and kissed them. I kept mine at arms length and eyed it with disgust. There was a murmur of comments from the watchers out front and some chuckles as well. We were expected to get romantic with the fake cocks. Not just use our mouths on them, but also talk to them, stroke them, and try to seduce them. Glory went to each of us in turn and held out the mike. The others sounded like they were more eager to pump those organs dry than to romance them. When she got to me she offered encouragement and used my new name. Again my nerves and lack of experience worked in my favor, making me come off as an uncertain suitor, which the audience liked. There was a brief respite while Glory announced some upcoming events. Then Magic went to the table and posed with arms extended, like one of those ladies on game shows who reveals the prizes. She pulled back the cover further to expose some black straps and narrow chains, all hooked together. At first I didn't know what I was seeing, but as she picked up some of them and held them up to the viewers, I understood that it was bondage equipment. A shudder ran through me. Glory and Magic herded us three players together and began to bind us, except that they attached us to each other, at elbows and knees, with short lines connected to collars that kept our faces near each other. We stood there in an imperfect circle, waiting for what was next. The game we had to play started when one of the guys was given a fat grape and we were told we had to pass it from one to another, going all the way around and back the other direction. I didn't fully comprehend until the first guy pressed his mouth to the second one's. Glory gave a warning about not choking and then turned it into a joke about having lost our gag reflexes. But she singled me out as maybe still having mine. That won approving sounds from the onlookers, who I guessed were siding with me as the odd man out, though 'man' might not be the right term. The grape came to me next and my neighbor wasn't shy about pushing his mouth against mine, moving the piece of fruit forward with his tongue, and not withdrawing as soon as he might have. I was repulsed. It wasn't bad enough to have to be up there in front of a roomful of laughing chatting people the way I was, denuded of body hair, in a dress with false curves added, face made up, wearing that ridiculous wig, and swaying on high heels. No, I had to be attached to two obviously gay guys who had picked up on the fact that I wasn't one of them and kept rubbing against me. I was sure a lot of those in front of us found it titillating. I had to pass the grape back to the first guy, who returned it to me, taking his time and causing me more distress. Then I had to move it along to the one who had given it to me previously. The action went over so well that Glory declared we should do it all again, but with two grapes. That led to us having to perform something really awful, which was one of us having whipped cream sprayed into his mouth and then transferring that around the circle, with Magic adding more as needed. Glory kept using the term 'snowballing', which I didn't know the meaning of. She also made endless cheap jokes about the whipped cream being like male ejaculate, which allowed me to figure out the missing definition. After that was done, I hoped desperately that there was no more. I looked out across the tables for Adele. She was in her seat, still with Mark. As the bondage equipment was being taken off us, to the disappointed groans of the crowd, I held out my arms pleadingly. She only smiled and gave me a wave, as if I were enjoying the show as much as she appeared to be. Mark held his hands up and pretended to clap encouragement. It turned out there was one more event for me to endure. The three of us contestants were each given a chair to stand alongside. Then we had to grip the back of our chair and back up without letting go, which forced us to bend forward with our backsides jutting out. Magic went behind each of us and raised our dresses, then lowered our panties, at the same time taking some free feels of the available flesh. When she revealed the final items on the covered table, they were a variety of spanking implements. I gasped out loud, which set off a ripple of laughter across the room. Glory made a show out of selecting her instrument. It was a sorority paddle, long and thick. She donned a mortarboard and strutted in front of us, provoking chatter among the audience members. Then she took up a position behind the first guy and started to swat his exposed rump. He grunted and writhed but took it rather well. The second guy did even better. I determined to outdo them both and react almost not at all. Instead, when Glory hit me the first time, I yelped in pain and surprise. It did not get better. I howled and squirmed wildly until Glory at last relented. Then it was Magic's turn. She selected a slender riding crop and covered her upper face with a white, leather domino mask. The other contestants didn't do quite as well as in Round One. I did much worse than before. I shrieked and my knees almost buckled more than once. My poor bum was on fire, the pain penetrating deeper as the punishment went on. For the final round, the plump TV who had done stand-up reappeared. She was dressed the same as before but had added a harness around her hips, from which protruded an impressively large artificial phallus. I froze up at the sight and what it might mean. She was given an ineffectual tool to use on our posteriors, a wooden handle from which hung a bunch of limp plastic streamers. It was less something to inflict pain than a prop for a cheerleader. She went behind the first guy and pretended to whip him. He acted as if this was the harshest cruelty yet and quaked and cried out. Then she put the tip of her fake member between his buttocks and moved her wide hips, as if she was ravishing him, even though no penetration took place. He overacted again, but this time as if in the throes of pleasure. The audience clapped politely. The second contestant took much the same approach, though he added lots of words, trying to further exaggerate his fake reactions. When the comedian got to me I wasn't sure what to do. At first I just remained quiet. The audience did too, some of them craning forward, probably hoping I would again stand out from my competition. They might have gotten disappointed except that Adele suddenly stood up and raised her hand, which was holding a rainbow striped shopping bag. It had to be the one holding the clothes I had arrived in. I hollered something about how she should 'gimme my male clothes back'. That triggered a celebratory reaction from the crowd, which in turn set off a breakdown in me. I began to blubber and gesticulate, knocking over my chair. The comic improvised, waving her fake whip overhead and jerking her hips at me like a dog in heat. The crowd loved it. Magic grabbed several pieces of bondage equipment and thrust them toward me, as if she believed she needed to restrain me. Glory took her mike and began polling the audience to decide on a winner. She held her hand over each other the first two contenders' heads and was met each time with lukewarm applause. When she got to me the room went wild. There were hollers and cheers. The response was overwhelming in my favor. Glory declared me the winner 'by a landslide'. I stumbled off the stage in those difficult heels and tried to reach Adele and Mark. They got up and started toward the exit. Congratulations flew at me from all sides. Well wishers slowed me down. I didn't reach my wife and her companion until they were at the door that led out of the building. As I stood there breathing hard, they stepped into the parking lot. Passersby could see in through the gate. I hollered for them to take me along, or at least return my shirt and slacks. Adele handed the bag to Mark, he took her in his arms, and they kissed passionately. At that instant I knew he wasn't gay. Maybe bi but not exclusively homosexual. My legs folded up and I knelt in the doorway, watching with disbelief. Mark called over to me not to worry. He said that he and Adele were going to enjoy the vacation that I was supposed to be taking with her. It turned out that he had bet on me to win. She had assumed I would lose and had wagered accordingly. I wanted to know what I was supposed to do. Adele told me that the club had generously agreed to let me stay there for the two weeks while the happy couple would be away. I said I couldn't do that because I didn't fit in there. Mark laughed and explained that he had instructed the staff to help me to become one of them. And that there was a sort of dorm upstairs, where some of the performers lived for minimal rent. I would stay with them. He concluded that, by the time he and my bride came back I would be a changed man. I didn't correct his use of the noun, though it might well have been wrong. I wanted to run over to our car, which they were getting into, but didn't because of the way I looked, and how devastated I was after all I'd already been through. After they were gone, one of the first things Glory wanted me to do was record this message. You see, she is the other half-owner of the club. And she says there's someone who can edit my words, make any needed changes for clarity, and they can be posted on some on-line site that caters to readers who would find a predicament like mine interesting, even arousing. Naturally, lots of the club's regulars love that page and would be amused to know that they're reading something true and not the usual fiction offered there. That's everything that's happened so far. I can only imagine how much I'll be affected by whatever happens now, and for the next 14 days and nights. So if you're ever given a free pass for an evening at a private club on a shadowy street, deep in the city, or if you're wife gets such a gift, make sure it's not the same place I'm stuck in now. I mean, you wouldn't want this fate... would you? ********* (The theme of a straight guy becoming the captive of TVs has been handled with wit and imagination by Crayle2 on his page on the free Deviant Art site, along with many other of his fantasy scenarios. Check out his captioned images and maybe leave him a comment there.)