Me Swetha Manasa
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The Reflection Of A Man free porn video
The reflection of a man:
I had always been a shy boy for as long as I can remember.
I would blush bright red whenever I spoke with a girl and then become
conscious of the fact that I was blushing and that would make me blush
even more. But what would make me blush in the first place? Well as I
spoke with a girl I would wonder what it was like to be her and to wear
sexy exciting clothes like her. What was it like to look that beautiful?
At the same time I would be aware that she knew that other boys would no
doubt be thinking of having sex with her and it would embarrass me that
the girl I was speaking to might think I that I did not see her as
anything other than an object of my sexual lust. In other words that I
did not see her as a person. But then I would wonder if she wanted to be
seen like other boys saw her or like I did?
Did girls like men fantasising about being them? Then I would blush and
I would get even more embarrassed as I thought the girl I was talking to
might know what I was really thinking.
Although I was so shy, I was a good writer and one of my English
teachers, Mrs Cohen, noticed that when it came to my writing I would as
she put it "come out of my shell." Mrs Cohen was a very young teacher
and would dress in clothing that was both sexy and sophisticated. In
other words, just the sort of girl to make me blush. She got me the
"job" of running the school newspaper.
During the remainder of my time at school then I discovered that I could
overcome my fear of talking to girls if I was writing or taking
photographs for the school newspaper. I needed something in my hands to
distract me from the beauty of the girl I was talking to.
So this was how I became a journalist.
I did quite well at school, without the distraction of having a
girlfriend, and got onto the journalism course I wanted to study at
university.
I became a Christian whilst I was at university as I had started to ask
myself questions about the meaning of life which only the Christians I
was talking to seemed to have any answers for but at the same time I felt
out of place and alone whenever I went to meetings of the Christian
union. I was conscious that I was somehow different. I was reminded of
Gandhi who said something about how he loved Jesus, it was Christians he
had a problem with.
After university I got a job working for the newspaper in my town and got
to interview lots of local people. My boss, Lilly, would sometimes get
annoyed with my unwillingness to compromise my integrity to obtain a
story and how feminine and cautious I was for a man. She said she didn't
know any other man like me although she knew several women like me.
Then our music journalist fell ill right at the time that I heard that
the shock rocker Margot Dors was coming to town. Margot was born a man
and her real name was Lionel Jones but she claimed to be channeling
various spirits.
Margot claimed to be a satanist and in many of her videos she would
crossdress. As you probably know, she had an amazing sense of fashion
but wore makeup and dark lipstick.
Anyway I managed to talk Lilly into giving me the job of interviewing
Margot. It was my first big job for the newspaper. An interview with a
major celebrity instead of some local idiot like the people you see on
the tv news when there's some major tragedy or event. Get this interview
right and I may finally get to move onto bigger things than my local
newspaper.
I had planned to ask Margot about her childhood and how she became a
transvestite. I would try to persuade her to become a Christian. I was
one of the good guys I told myself.
I had been on demonstrations outside Margot's concerts.
I found out that there were conditions to interviewing Margot. Margot
insisted on straight male journalists who wanted to interview her wearing
a tour tee shirt and allowing her to put her distinctive dark red
lipstick on them.
Interviews with female journalists were sexier as they were conducted in
lingerie. That is to say Margot and the journalist would both only be
wearing lingerie. She would also paint the journalist's lips, but with
black lipstick. Margot had even done an video to one of her songs where
a female model pretended to be a journalist and Margot did a lingerie
interview with her before having sex with her.
As a result of this Margot controlled what journalists wrote about her,
by firstly making the journalist uncomfortable during the interview and
secondly letting the journalist know that the interview had been filmed.
It was therefore well known, although I did not find out about it until I
got there, that an interview with Margot was always going to be
humiliating and that Margot kept videos of all of her interviews.
Lilly obviously knew all about Margot's terms and conditions when she
sent me to the the interview. She pretended not to know when I phoned
her to tell her but I could hear her giggling at the thought of her
Christian journalist wearing a tour tee shirt and lipstick when I
explained what was being demanded of me and saying that it was up to me
what I did but she had always told me a good journalist knows when to
compromise in order to get a scoop.
When I turned up for the interview with my camerawoman Ally and my
questions that I intended to put to Margot I was invited to come straight
through.
Margot told Ally if she was prepared to do the shoot in lingerie, Margot
would too. Margot started flirting with Ally and said it was nice to see
a woman pointing a camera at her. Then, as I was taking my seat, Margot
took my notes off me and chucked them in her shredder.
Ally kept her clothes on.
For a moment I was shocked and felt vulnerable like I was being stripped
of my clothes and Margot chose that moment to paint my lips. I had never
felt so vulnerable in an interview before and it was sort of exciting and
humiliating at the same time. I noticed also that Ally seemed to be
shooting pictures of me instead of Margot.
I was not used to having the subject of my interview take control of the
interview in this way or being photographed..
I had planned to call Margot "he" and "him" to try to unsettle her but
she already made clear that she was setting the rules.
"Jamie, in your vanilla world you are Jamie and I am Lionel Jones and
there are no other possibilities, but as your quivering lips may have
already told you, we are not in Kansas anymore and down the yellow brick
road there are all manner of alternative realities and I become Margot
and you become Diana, my huntress." She said, like a professor lecturing
a fresher. "Yes, down the yellow brick road, Diana, your preferred
personal pronouns are also "she" and "her" because you have left your
black and white world behind and those that want to hang with me again
know how to use their own personal pronouns properly."
I was stunned, I had never been anywhere like this in an interview before
or indeed anywhere like this before.
"So is it Jamie or Diana?"
I was silent then as I didn't want to mess up my big interview.
"Are you going to do your interview with me as Jamie or Diana?" Margot
probed.
"My name's Jamie."
"Jamie, Diana, Margot, Ally, they're all girl's names, what's the
difference?" Margot replied. "All my sheep have gone astray, Diana. You
know you have looked like a sheep before the shearer, lover girl, ever
since I painted your lips. You Christians like sheep don't you?"
I nodded. There were lots of dull sermons I had sat/slept through about
sheep.
"Look, I want you to find the Emerald City, my little huntress, but you
have to pay the ferryman. For starters, you will have to consent to go
further than any other journalist. You are going to become my little
black sheep now, Diana. They won't let you back in church when I am
through with you."
I realised that this meant that I was going to have to let Margot give me
a full makeover. She was quite the expert and glued down my eyebrows
before covering my face in foundation. She then stuck false lashes on my
eyelids before pulling out a mascara brush and applying eyeshadow and
painting on false eyebrows.
Ally was still taking pictures of me rather than Margot.
"Look I agree it's not unpleasant having your face made up but I am not
Diana. My name is Jamie." I was trying to take control of the
interview but at that point Margot slapped me on the right cheek.
"Aren't you supposed to offer me your left cheek now, Diana?"
I didn't do this and I wasn't prepared to do so, but I knew that by
Margot asking this question she was exposing me as a fraud but I did not
know how to respond.
"I am a high priestess of the church of Satan, Diana, and as such I have
the right to name new members of my church and you are henceforth and
forevermore Diana so stop pretending to be Jamie."
Why Diana? I wondered.
Although I had enjoyed the makeover I also felt humiliated at the same
time partly because of the loss of control of the interview and that I
was now really starting to look like a girl.
I sensed at this point that Margot knew that she could dominate and
humiliate me. She was in the driving seat and in such a situation Margot
had always been known to put her foot on the gas.
"What will your church say when they see the pictures of you with me
post-makeover in your paper? Good girl gone bad Diana? The interview is
over for now but if you want a proper interview stick around. We are
going to a party now and if you're going to stick around, here's your
costume. If you are going to follow the yellow brick road you had better
get changed quickly," Margot said leaving the room. "If you decide to
stick around you had better be wearing your costume."
I had minutes to decide whether to follow the yellow brick road or go
back to Kansas.
I chose the yellow brick road. That meant putting on a pair of black
lace panties and fishnet tights. Then a pair of black hotpants with
white stars on them.
I then had to put on a pair of knee length boots with a five inch heel
before getting Ally to help me glue fake breasts onto my chest and then
strap me into a shoulderless bra and black corset.
I was given two black bracelets and then Margot returned.
She put a wig on my head and a black tiara.
Now I understood the Diana thing, Margot had already made allusions to
the goddess but it was clear I was meant to look like a Goth Wonderwoman.
"You look like a natural woman now Diana.." Margot told me. "Don't worry
no one will recognise you until your story appears in the paper - "Margot
made me a woman!" Just fancy that! I can see the headline now." She
said stroking my thighs causing my fishnets to tingle all over my leg. I
had never felt anything as exciting and humiliating in my life as the
feelings I was now experiencing but how was I going to turn this into a
story and stop me from being the story?
"Actually Diana could do with some nail extensions," Ally said to Margot
looking at me and laughing.
"Good call!" Margot laughed. "Maybe you should write the story, Ally!"
So I sat there as Margot added false fingernails to my look. There was
no way out of this nightmare now.
Normally at parties I would sit in the corner and leave early but when we
got to the party I found myself the focus of attention as the new member
of Margot's entourage. Everyone wanted to speak to me and dressed as
Diana it meant I suddenly felt confident in myself and able to talk to
girls without embarrassment. I was one of the girls now.
During the course of the evening I took drugs for the first time and got
drunk.
The following morning I woke up wearing a full white slip with spaghetti
straps and feeling my backside was burning.
I had worn the slip for my interview.
And Margot had fucked me..
I thought about pretending that I was drunk or stoned but that wasn't
true.
I knew what Margot was doing and I enjoyed it.
She called me "Jamie" whilst she fucked me in my slip.
It was her way of saying that I should see myself as a woman regardless
of whether I was Diana or Jamie. I was a rock chick now and my
inhibitions were gone. They had to be, I was one of the main characters
in the video for Margot's latest single that was shot during the party.
There was no going back to my day job as I did not see how I could write
about what had happened to me. My mask was off and I was no longer a
cisgender Christian journalist any more. I had found acceptance with my
sister Margot and I would help promote her work.
Was I gay now? I don't know, maybe I am bisexual. I had enjoyed being
fucked by Margot but I might not be so honoured again. One thing was
sure, whether I was Diana or Jamie I dressed as a woman now.
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