A Week At The C.C.: Chef Duvall--Friday. free porn video

Friday--Chef Duvall "Weekly salary: $1,123. Weekly housing benefit: $980. Weekly fuxeries: Priceless." The alarm flashes... 7:55 ... 7:55 ... 7:55. I groan, curse and--like every morning--think about jacking the nail business, and myself. I mic some leftover coffee. Splash some Crown Royal in it. Fire-up a Camel. Then I remember it's Friday. In sixteen hours I'll be Disco King of the C.C. Again. I could use a shave. Just politics on the news--something about goddamned Hillary. I don't have time to pick the best DVD to start my day, so I flip to the house channel. The programming don't change much, and ain't often up to my standards. But I'm in luck. It's the original "Brazen Tranny Cum Burglars"--the Citizen Kane of the shemale heist genre. One of the best scenes is coming in five minutes, and I could be too. But I don't have time. Gotta shower, maybe shave, and get my workspace set-up. If I hurry, I'll catch the climax, when the anti-heroines drain the Strategic Semen Reserves from Fort Cox. ======================================================= Don't think I don't work hard for my special day. Tuesday thru Friday I've got a pedicure scheduled early--three back-to-back, some days. I get to the kitchen before 11:00 a.m., and sometimes need to stay til 11:00 p.m. But the duties aren't too fucking difficult. We're only open six hours; with a 2:00-6:30 closure between the two services. I've never served above a hundred meals in a day. Sometimes half that. And it's 100% a man's joint--which saves mucho time not plateing everything with a sprinkle of wildflower petals, zig-zags of ornamental sauces, or cutting fucking radishes to look like fucking roses. What guy'll be admiring artsy presentation over the bouncing tranny ass on display? Molecular gastronomy? Fegettaboutit! Members get enough of that in restaurants they take their wives to. No point inventing trendy Peruvian-Malay fusion dishes, to wow "New Yorker" critics, or some pansy from "The Times". Chez Duvall at The City Club deserves a reputation, but ain't exactly wanting one. When you can't expand your clientele just gotta give the ones you got exactly what they expect. No meal leaves my kitchen unless it's excellent, but everything is just an appetizer. The service is what keeps Members coming. In more ways than one. I got your Wagyu beef, Beluga caviar, four oz. "shrimp", and in-season oysters--same-day couriered from sea to plate. With that you don't get fancy. Just add a dash of seasoning, and make sure it's cooked at an exact time and temperature. Sound almost too easy, if you've never worked in a kitchen full of yammering spics. Don't get me wrong. I'm not at all prejudiced, and all my guys got hustle. Just some of them can't follow instructions real good. I'm told we've one of the finest wine cellars in the city. All I know is none of it is light on the wallet; even sold at cost. Dessert choices are a (not bad) chocolate cake, a couple of flavors of Costco ice-cream, or pour your own sauce on a slice of the Sissy cheesecake. The hardest part of the job is all the back-and-forth; as I'm the only contact between the cellar-dwellers, and the Sissy servers on the second floor. Kitchen staff only enter through the back alley (though who doesn't here!) It's a wise precaution that the cooks and dishwashers don't see what goes on upstairs--though most of 'em must have a basic idea. The first line of security is always, always, always hire illegals--they work hard, don't complain, don't snitch, and are loyal if you pay 'em like white men. Playing dodgems with a scrum of wetbacks is less exhausting than dealing with Sissy issues. Sissies are at their best when more is coming in their mouths than out of it. I work like I fuck: Firm control of the back-end; more hands-off in front. ======================================================= I'm lucky to "live above the store." It allows me a three-hour mid-day break. Tuesdays and Thursdays I'm rushed to get to my side-gig as a dance instructor (mostly waltzing with wrinkled society widows, who treat the classes like a gigolo service). The other days, I've time for a siesta, or enjoyment of my extensive collection of shemale/femboy/ts/ ladyboy/trap porn. All of 'em on old-school DVD or VHS (except for my historical archive). Though I'm now forced to download some stuff, I like it better displaying the collection. I've got the rarest 60's stag-films on 8mm. They're some of oldest images in the world of sluts with knockers and balls taking it up the ass. Everything's catalogued and categorized (on a spreadsheet--I'm not a complete dinosaur) so I can quickly find what I'm in the mood for. Being in frequent contact with underdressed, nubile young powdered and pantied "waitresses" on the job, I gotta reserve a few minutes a day for stress relief. When I'm not working, my two-room suite in the C.C. Residences is down the hall from a bunch of rarely-occupied fuck chambers. But it's, more excitingly, just two floors down from the perfumed perversities of the Sissy dormitory. It's hard getting any shut-eye for thinking of those mincing little homos upstairs in bed together; which is a common sleeping arrangement in the dorm. And homos they are! I don't care how you look at: limp- dick lezzies tonguing ass while calling it a cunt; or painted, plump- titted femmy fags, disappointedly rubbing silky crotches together while waiting for their next dose of thick jizz from a real cock. Yeah, I call them she/her to their faces. It's hard to think of them otherwise, when you're looking at a thoroughbred Sissy with its tightly revealing clothes on. Besides, I wouldn't get laid much if I didn't play along with that bullshit. These days, most of them insist they are "transgender." You gotta have priorities when setting them... straight. I like thick, limp noodles and shrunken sterile peanuts; like a Chinese appetizer. But it's all good, so long as I'm ramming tight hole. My rule is that if you gotta argue with a ditzy pansy, make sure you've shot your load in it first. Outside of fucking fucking situations, call a spade a spade, what I say. The Sissies I know are pathetically scheming limp-wristed former fags, who realized that (with 95% of men straight) they'll get more cash, cock, and protection playing like they're normal bitches. They're probably right. There's gotta be more homos in the city than men like me. But there are a lot more strong straight dudes that love fucking hot shemales than there are queers manly enough to manage and satisfy a primo simpering fuckdoll. Just look at the C.C. membership--and history--to realize that strong- willed, motivated, accomplished real men deserve and claim fuck-rights on the weak, pliant and pretty. It's just that flouncy powder-puffs who can't cut-it as boys are upsetting the natural order of things. The womanly role has always been to encourage men's competitiveness. Sissies know better than anyone that they can't compete with men. Some people erect skyscrapers, some erect penises. Just gotta know who's who. Your typical Sissy (though generally simpleminded) isn't confused about who is better at doing things and who is better having things done to them. They got better insight than any woman about how to handle a cock jammed down their throat. They always offer a tight back passage, 'cause they've no other choice for their need to be filled. They're not concerned about pregnancy, and orgasmic like'd make anyone jealous. That combo makes 'em more schlong-hungry than front-entry broads. They dress more feminine than 99% of women--sometimes because mannish clothes reveal their physical limitations. And more sexy--'cause they need to work a lot harder to tempt normie straight guys. Which is their real prize, and why they'll never be satisfied. But what bitch ever is? I mean, if you're a fat cunt, there are weirdos who like that. Those cunts should find men into that; and be grateful that they exist. But, no! Bitches can't accept being loved as they are. They wanna be loved *despite* what they are. Like they're so special that they're the *unique* cunt that can bag a guy who hates hippos. No man is so dumb that he can't figure this riddle out. If you're a lardass, and a bitch is sucking your dick, you're not worrying if she only likes sucking the dicks of lardasses. You're happy your lardass dick is getting sucked at all. Pussyboys are like fat cows x10. They want a man who loves burying his face in slimy, reeking vaginas, but who'll make an exception to tongue some withered ex-penis, *only in her case!* Men like me who are happy to fuck them just as they are, are always second best for to them--don't think I don't know that!. But we still get to fuck 'em, because getting cocks hard and inside them is the main talent they have... and Prince Charming doesn't exist. If I explained this to any Sissy I've fucked, most of them wouldn't even understand. The smarter boyquim would claim that being illogical proved they were women. But with the desperate need to not be men, they got women beat in every way. That's what I love about 'em! Broads got their good points, and bad. Lemme tell ya', all sissycunts are pretty much as annoying as a regular broad. Seems to me that just goes with the territory of being a hole. Even if they are practically perfect in every other way, this is a negative that can't be eliminated. What makes good sissies better than women is a dedication to ac-cent- tchu-ate the positive. Most women these days try too hard to be men. But they fail for reasons I've already explained. I guess this failure is why they keep getting bitchier. Quality sissyhole, though, is from (cleavage displaying) top to (greased, needy) bottom, and from dim- witted head to colorfully painted tootsies, the true opposite of a man. Once enough schmucks figure-out what the smartest guys like me already know, the future of the human race may be doomed. I suppose somebody has to keep the planet populated and pay child-support. But guys with other serious duties deserve the ultimate pleasure of cumming deep inside a hot trap's tight backpussy. If women can't get back to focusing on what they are good for, they could be replaced. The era of the neo-traditional male is beginning. You can't turn-back time, but you can find modern methods of restoring traditional values. Take Donald Trump: Classy guy, knows how to treat a broad, and is way too smart not to be banging shimhole. I always expected he'd become a City Club member. Not now as it's too risky for a Presidential candidate. But he's definitely the man to get trannies out of the military, and the military in more trannies. Win-win. Plus, there's a Sissy here, Gabrielle, who looks exactly like a slightly younger, hard- used, cut-rate Melania. Dunno if that proves anything, but I'd give him the benefit of the doubt. Call it 50/50. ======================================================= Though completely straight, I'd have to admit my job has spoiled me on three-hole broads. Getting a new wife would make my dear Mama happy. But for what?! I'm a master chef, so don't need anyone to cook for me! Other housewifely services would be fine, but not as good as living in a fullish-service luxury "hotel" suite. Laundry done and delivered, folded, to my door. USA Today, ditto. Room service here doesn't mean food, but I can raid the kitchen for a late night snack. I have to vacuum the carpet and scrub the shitter once a week. But when I please, and a lot less trouble than being nagged that the lawn needs mowing, or she wants the bathroom wallpapered, like every-fucking-day! I'd be stuck with the cost of keeping her. If the cunt was near my age she'd likely have some brats I'd have to support too. And I wouldn't want any wife of mine working! Maybe that's old-fashioned, but in my family the man wears the pants. Period! Speaking of which, all that bleeding and bitchy moods--no thanks! Gotta figure she wouldn't like my wall of porn, even if I kept it in the den. She wouldn't understand that I'm not some loser with his wang in his hand, but the internet's foremost cataloguer, historian and reviewer of a cinematic genre that's going to break big any day now! Trust me. I'm bullish on the cross-over potential of the bigger-budget productions like "Shemale Cumpocalypse" (action/adventure, ****, 2012), "Jane Austen's Tallywhacker" (costume drama, ***, 2015), "Shimitation of Wife" (melodrama/romance, ****, 2013), and "Brazen Tranny Cum Burglars VIII" (detective/cumburglery, *****, 2016). The BTCB franchise has returned to form--leaving a lot of critics with egg-like stuff on their faces. And there are three major horror/cumburglery projects already in production. "TS Night of the Jizzing Dead" looks to be the most Oscar-worthy among them. We got a Member (whose name I won't mention) who produces/directs lots of those superhero movies. Seems to me returning Batman & Robin to its roots would make a solid summer tentpole, without needing to change much in the treatment. Slap a rack on Robin, Catwoman's shiny bodysuit reveals a bulge, and the story basically writes itself. I'm proud that every last one of them was made in the USA, unlike "Crouching Ladyboy, Hidden Wang" (historical/fantasy, **, 2005). It was groundbreaking for its time, and the Brazilian industry was also strong back then. But nothing matches Made in America right now. It's the same with Sissies. When I took this job more than a quarter were foreign imports. And mostly better quality than homegrown hole. Now there's maybe two or three of them, and none a solid thumbs-up. Homos turning themselves into trannies is getting very trendy. If it lasts five years, we'll exporting 'em by the boatload. ======================================================= Getting me a *Sissy* wife would be an entirely different story! But I can't see that happening. Sissies mostly work their moneymaker now to get it inverted later. So when they're ready to quit I wouldn't be interested. The mantraps looking for a husband at the City Club are digging for more gold than I got. The two most dedicated to the marriage mission, Lexa and Suzy, only got eyes (and holes) for billionaires. Between the two gold-diggers I'd have to choose Sissy Miss Suzy. The perfect wife, and lady; always keeps her stockings straight. Gorgeous, but treats me like a servant. She's got this 50's housewife obsession, so I'd be the boss as soon as I put a ring on it! Also, she's a good little dancer, so long as the steps aren't more recent than "The Twist." We'd be the perfect couple if she had a bigger rack, and me a much bigger bank account. Ashley's got decent feet, and checks-off everything else on my list. Nothing like railing her hard from behind to get those massive udders swing and huge ass bouncing. But the tits (and face) make her the kind I couldn't take home to Mama. She's fully installed with every pornographic excess of implant and filler. I've a half-shelf in my DVD collection devoted to the porny bolt-on inflatable-doll look. I love her gagging on my steely 6.75" bone, while an identical blonde bimbo is doing the same on my 46" screen. I've even got videos featuring Ashley herself. But you'd not recognize her now. Gabi's never gonna be anything but a whore. Rachel, Dior and Athena are too tall, or bigfoots, or both. Plus one's Mex and another black. I'm fine with that, but Mama wouldn't be. I might sell her on Rachel being Catholic, since she's the best of the three anyway. Sadly there's no "nice Italian girl" working here. While Dior is the only Sissy actually taller than me, my wife *must* always wear high-heels, and still allow me to look down on her. Janet or Nika and are the ones to talk to if you're into bending over. As I'll never-ever allow a man-sized erect shaft anywhere near me--even if it's attached to a presentable bona-fide pansy--I wouldn't touch those filthy cunts ever! I won't touch any object that's ever plumbed a manhole. I'm careful to avoid even second-hand exposure to my fellow Members members. Can't afford being picky about slopping my dong in a recently used jizz receptacle, but my mouth is getting nowhere near it! I won't kiss pantyboy lips, or eat their holes. A trap would need a week being hosed-out with douches and Listerine for me to consider it. I'm so straight I've never even tongued a real broad's snatch. If I figured late-20's was old enough, Mallory is too bossy, and Bambi (along with Pansi, Marianne, and Bella) is a gelding. I won't even nut in gelding ass, let alone marry one. Pansi's ball-lessness doesn't stop me face-fucking it every so often. Not having a go at Bella's boycunt is my greatest regret amongst all of 'em. She's got the most perfect petite feet, and the radiant innocence nearest to co-ed honey of the stable. But you gotta have principles. This self-mutilation craze is nearly as bad as them getting the fake twats. My favorite fucking style is reaming the grease out of ass-cunt, from behind, until it dribbles down to make it slick between my big hairy stallion balls and the pussyboy's shaved and puny sac. Makes a nice wet slapping sound when you bang one hard. Then I finish by kneading both pairs together in my cupped hand, while I fill the pinned plaything with my potent seed. It's true that when you flip effeminate asswhores over, to fuck 'em from the front, they're probably better neutered, so that nothing gets in the way. But I mostly mount 'em from the rear. And if I want some variety, the tiny impotent marbles are easily pushed up in her. If I was cradle-robbing it'd have to be Bridget. There's nothing in particular about her that fits my type--but she's a ways to go, so the tits will get bigger and the panty-filler softer. She looks like a young Ann-Margret. She's already got the prettiest face of them all, and doesn't she know it! I've got enough mirrors around my bed that dim trim Bridget will start feeling herself-up just from seeing her reflection. Give her a bit of time to admire herself, and you can force your helmet in her ring-hole before she even notices! ================================================ My pay is barely above Sissy wages. And with all their tips and presents, every last, ever-fucking whore takes home more than me! Sure, there's my free housing. With Manhattan rents (and being fairly well-located) that bennie nearly equals my salary. None of this matches what I'm worth. More than I could negotiate now, I guess. But what if I'd spent the last dozen years establishing a rep, instead of slaving in the shadows? I coulda had my own TV show! I'd be a triple-threat, what with my dancing and judging talents. You seen the crap on TV these days? I could whip-up a better Duck Confit than those schmucks while doing The Hustle. Nobody makes Funky Chicken a la King than me. The Director bastards got a firm grip on my 'nads, though. It's the Regional Membership perk that keeps me here. That's not the top class, 'cause they wanna feel generous while still spitting on a guy, see. Full Membership gets you the voting-rights and unlimited use. Platinum is an out-of-towner category, for guys who aren't going to visit more than 50 days a year, and like the fucking $125K a year "bargain." They should really be paying me to rate the wares, not pretend it's a fucking privilege. All the managers get the same deal. But I'm the only one that uses it enough to write the reviews. Jay Gould's fussy about mixing business with pleasure. I guess the name defines the man in Ben Dover's case. He doesn't come-across as light in the loafers, but I've never seen him working with a hard-on. So gay, or hung like fruitfly. Even the ever-professional, almighty, Mr. Gould, you catch him trying to hide a stiffie a couple times a day. That doesn't stop him disapproving when I'm showing wood. But whatcha gonna do? It's an occupational hazard for a guy with a huge joint. Hector Rodriguez does handle the merchandise. But he's not got the discipline to be a taste-tester. For months at a time he'll be the loyal husband and father to his massive brood somewhere in mid-Long Island. But you can feel the tension brewing. Then, when he has two days off, he'll go on a tranny-banging bender! That kinda unpredictable is disruptive to operations, if you ask me. Like sure, I'll fuck every Sissy I can get my hands on in a 24 hour period. But that's scheduled, and I'm as reliable as clockwork. Sorta. It sticks in my craw that having access to the best tail in the world blocks the self-advancement that all real men want. But weekends, I'm back to feeling like I'm never retiring from the job, unless in a body- bag. Keep in shape and I'll be banging Sissies that ain't even born yet. You get older, they stay the same age, like they say in that movie. If I get too old and worn-out to cover emasculated boywhores, I'd like to go out erect and on my back, with the freshest artificially be- titted, baby-fat, shim buggering itself silly on my bursting pecker. Feeble reminders of its inadequacy slapping on my belly, while I heave a last goodbye heavenward into its sperm-hungry fuckhole. 1970-20?? Carve *that* on my gravestone! ================================================== My big day is so close I can taste it. In fifteen and a half hours I'll be the C.C. Disco King! I'm pretty careful not to abuse the perk. No one'll be the wiser if I can get some sly hole on a Sunday night. But I can legit fuck all I want one day a week, and that's scheduled for primo advantage. My big Saturday starts with keying-in as a member at midnight sharp, unlocking the Disco, then I got 24.5 hours of fun. The great thing about my schedule (besides being the only night the Discotheque is regularly open) is it's the only way to catch three whoring shifts in 24 hours. Practically every Sissy will be working one of these. And sleeping from 5 a.m. til lunchtime, I'm awake for every last minute I got a crack at some ass. Gotta take more shots at the hole if you're in my position. Being poorer than a ditzy cocksucker is a problem, when the gold-digging sluts favor guys who can deliver the most tips and gifts. But I don't whine about this. I man-up to get a leg up, and (as Ellie says) a leg over. Scheduling and table assignments are important to any Sissy's livelihood. Lead Sissy hostesses know the slut distribution that will best satisfy dining Members. It works best leaving this stuff to Sissies. But the dimmer holes don't know this, and I'll throw my weight around if displeased. The appearance of authority is good to have. So is being able to play favorites by doling-out snacks or treats from the kitchen. I've opened my porn collection as a lending library. You'd think there'd not be much interest, since they show a basic day-at-the-office for a pantied pansy whore. Also, every TV in the joint shows 20-hour loops of shemale fuck films, if you're not too particular about the quality and can stand all the repeats. But I can make suggestions targeted to individual requirements. If their man of the hour has a specific kink, they can put something on that will get him off, and free themselves up more quickly. For personal use, there's a modest demand for ladyboy lesbo. I'm probably the best dancer that's ever been on the floor of the Sissy Disco. Certainly the best *man*. So a lot of Sissies like to partner with me, as a break from boogieing with clods or each other. The kids mostly just shake their tits and ass to monotonous boom-boom, but they've all seen "Dancing With The Stars," so some will seek me out to show them some proper steps. It gives me one-on-one time, even if I can't fuck them then. I make it known that I'm a trained dance instructor who normally charges (slight exaggeration) $100 an hour for my services. "Twinkle Toes" is my best racket by far, though. I'm not equipped for acrylics, gels or fancy designs, but I?ve got a corner of my bedroom partitioned: with a professional quality massaging chair, motorized foot bath, a small desk with an illuminated magnifier C-clamped on it, and an autoclave. For the basic shape, buff, and polish, I?m pretty skilled. I can apply jewels or do French-tips. Buying second-hand wholesale I got all the equipment and tools for less than three grand. My running costs are only for lotion, foot scrubs, acetone, buffing blocks and emery boards. My policy is customer brings the color. For always primped and painted dolls, my services are hard to resist?a huge time-saver at no cost. What they pay in exchange for this service is following my pedicure dress-code of short skirts, and panties of my choosing. I?m forced to do manicures. It?s what needs re-doing most often, and not much appeal in getting her tootsies painted if she still had to go elsewhere for the rest. But I?m in it for the pedis. Pedicure appoints always get priority. I can?t obviously discriminate with the Dormice who have the most use for my in-house salon. But I avoid mini-wanged bigfoots who live off- base by rarely operating outside 8:45-10:45 a.m. If possible, I schedule prime tail as the last appointment of the morning. My type is soft, small feet with plump toes. Its face doesn?t matter much, as that will be plain, at worst. Ugly bitches obviously don?t get hired here. I like massive soft tits, but that?s a trade-off. Naturally massive jugs ain?t common among bitches playing catch-up to grow a pair, so I always go with big over soft. I?ve long been interested in small feet, with pudgy painted piggies to suck on. Some tiny-toed mantrap with her foot in my lap (Lara I think it was called, or Lauren) thought it would be fun if I painted her toes. It turns out that lots of ?em didn?t mind this. Once I realized how easily Sissies accepted this attention, I had bigger things in mind than my hard-on, and began using these opportunities to develop my skills. A toenail should be closely clipped. It should be brightly colored, but not decorated. I?m precise in my standards. It?s the mark of a real man to focus on what is most important. Shims and broads fuss about everything, so can?t ever decide anything! It?s why men dominate in fields like fashion and hairstyling. O.K., most of ?em are homos, but even queers are more decisive than the hormonally-challenged. My procedure: strip, footbath, trim, then suck her toes if she allows it. Most do, as it?s not something airhead Sissies would think twice about?just shit that?ll happen in their line of work. Them getting pawed, prodded and propositioned is kinda like me getting a cut or burn on the job. If the hole objects I won?t do it, but I don?t ask for permission. Next is foot massage and toenail painting?in position for a nice upskirt view. If she?s tucking a mouth-watering slab of tenderized meat, she?s told to wear completely sheer panties to the appointment. Undesirables are told to wear something pretty but opaque. If a sheer-pantied Sissy allows it, her toenails can dry over my shoulders, while I enjoy the view. If she?s even more obliging, I might tug one out right there. I know where to draw the line on a workday. Can?t fuck ?em or have them touching my rod. But there?s no law against a guy jacking-off in his own room! Anyone who doesn?t want to watch is welcome to leave. ======================================================== After a shower and light breakfast, Shonda is my first job of the day. She?s one too "stir-fry steak" in the panties to suit me. It goes to show that it?s not always true what they say about the blacks! Not that I?m racist. No more than anyone else. In fact she?s got lovely feet?plump and not too long?so I love to suck her brown toes. It?s just the under-endowment that turns me off. But with fat thighs spoiling the upskirt view, I never see much anyway. Little Ellie?s a quick one sandwiched between the others. With her microscopic package, I?m fine with her only wanting a manicure. It?s a rough start to the day when ya? get two that could barely manage five inches between ?em. I?ve scheduled to end the morning on a high-note, with a raunchy bit of developing ass like Gigi. Now that she?s getting decently betitted, she?s really becoming my type. I?ve made good use of its mouth during the few scattered weeks it?s been in service. Honestly, because there wasn?t much competition for the hole. Some Members were boycotting her for her rules violations. And she looked a bit rough for the choosy ones?either too boyish, or from the visible scarring. I don?t mind ?em raw. Ya? naturally feel manlier mounting one that hasn?t had all the boy fucked out of it yet. If ever there was a Sissy needing a hard hand applied to her lumpy fat- injected ass, it?s Gigi. Suck balls the Employment Committee banned disciplinary spankings back in 2011. You?re supposed ask for *permission* now! Though the C.C. isn?t big on political correctness or workplace rights, even here some misguided "progress" creeps in. Nowadays I gotta give the whores a one-day suspension for minor infractions. It?s a bad decision for everyone, if you ask me. I used to spank them in the middle of the dining room. I?m not all that into it, but a public display of authority is useful for keeping Sissies in line. Most members found the show entertaining, and bet your life that a Sissy would rather get its ass reddened than lose a day?s earnings! ======================================================================= Far as I know, Gigi?s the only minor on payroll. Everything about the bitch is a mystery. There?s the age?barely seventeen, if rumors are true. Old enough to poke in New York, but the Board knows the legal trouble of "contributing to the delinquency of minors." I?ve never known Gould taking that risk unless the item in question is Grade-A Prime (plus a background suggesting nobody?ll come looking for her). Gigi sure wasn?t top-shelf when it arrived. It?s common to see signs of recent surgery when a fresh Sissy is delivered. Usually its bruises under the eyes from a nose-job, or she?s bandaged to support her newly installed fun bags. As far as I could tell with Gigi, the tits and nose were the only bits *not* being improved! It looked so bad that it was kept in solitary confinement for twelve weeks, except for a brief spell away for (what I expect was) another trip under the knife. Gould snuck it in when the club was closed at Thanksgiving week-end, and it wasn?t working until mid-February. The only reason I even knew Gigi was around was because it was a bit of a chubster, and ran directly to the smell of food when it managed a jailbreak. Gigi?s had vocal-chord surgery for sure (at first it never spoke, and now it?s insanely squeaky); something done to the forehead; something inside the mouth (could be dental work, or I think that?s the way they put in cheekbone implants); liposuction around the waist and, I?m guessing, had that fat pumped in its ass and, lips. Not just filler?a connoisseur like me can tell the difference when the lips are wrapped around my rod. It can?t have been chemically castrated for long, if at all. That?s why no boob-job. It looks like crap when there?s no natural development to cover the implant. It wasn?t completely flat- chested, but the shape and pathetic nipples looked more like a boy?s babyfat bitch-titties. Gould?s got a good eye, and maybe saw potential that no one else did. But I?m not buying it. He ain?t running no charity, and the up-front remodeling costs hadda been high. In a couple months it broke the all- time yearly record for formal Member complaints. Though Gould is nearly irreplaceable, he was putting his job on the line. For Gigi? It made no fucking sense. Gigi was still too banged-up and recovering when let loose among the membership. It was wearing the no butt-banging red ribbon on its wrist for another month or so. That?s another weird thing. I?ve never known it allowed for more than five days. Still, it was an excellent cocksucker for its age, and an eager one for any age. I figure only Pansi is more cum-thirsty than Gigi. Maybe too eager; because it was a spoiled brat from day-one. "You want your dick sucked, mister?" was its standard greeting. Worse, if refused, it might follow-up with "Wanna suck mine?" The last time, it threw in a hip-thrust, crotch-grab gesture to make the message clear. Have you ever seen a retired Marine general and respected military historian fall into a faint? I have, and my guess is that he couldn?t handle the truth of saying "yes." That got Gigi its last suspension. It?s a miracle that it got away with this for so long. Gould mumbled something about it being only an "unwritten rule." But it?s probably the Club?s #1 unwritten rule that Members sucking dick can only happen if it?s never seen or heard about. But there?s more. A lot more?and every time it was suspicious that Gigi would get "guidance" where every other cunt would be suspended. Even with nine lives Gigi was suspended as often as working. No other slut has matched this without being kicked to the curb. Jay Gould doesn?t mind the rumors he?s capped bitches for less! I don?t know if he has. I?m sure he wouldn?t today (and, for the record, I?m against the idea). But he sure wouldn?t want to look soft without a very good reason. Loads of times I dismissed Gigi because, if a Member left a meal relatively untouched, it?d plop in a chair to finish the leftovers. Would this be allowed *anywhere*? This wasn?t only pissing-off the Members; it also upset senior cunts like Athena and Suzy, who were responsible for controlling Gigi?s diet. It wouldn?t (or couldn?t) do make-up, other than a messy smear of color on its cocksucker lips. On days it looked alright you knew some pitying Dormouse helped out. It treated C.C. dress standards as a joke. As long as they were women?s clothes Gigi felt that was enough. Those sweats with "PINK" written across the ass were the usual. Maybe leggings, a big sweater, and those ugly boots with the fur inside. Whatever it felt comfortable in. There aren?t many Sissy uniform standards at the club. White over black is required for the lunch service. At dinner they can wear pretty much what they please. After that some of ?em wear nothing all. It?s way more flexible than the Member dress-code: no t-shirts, shorts, or sandals; jacket required at dinner; and no public nudity. Sissies are allowed to wear all kinds of crazy shit?so long as it meets the quota for making rods stiff. Gigi?s attitude was, more-or-less, that it was a Member who could swallow a pint of jizz in place of paying monthly dues. Everything to Gigi was a negotiation, where her part of the bargain was always swallowing cock. Gigi begged I overlook the issue when I reprimanded for it announcing dick-sucking as the daily lunch special. Got my best blowjob of the month, but that?s kinda beside the point. Besides the general attitude, bad manners, and pushy blowjob solicitation, the commonest write-up was for hard-ons; or maybe it was stuffing a sock down there. You?ll see weak Sissy stiffies around the club sometimes. But only when a girl is displaying herself nude. For regular everyday purposes Sissies always tuck their tails between their legs. That this isn?t a *rule* is because the rule isn?t fucking needed! I?ve known damned few Sissies who didn?t think this was the proper and natural behavior. Many will remove their panties only as a last resort. Once you?re done fucking them, if they?ve got the energy, the first thing they?ll do is grab a fresh pair, so everything can be arranged more ladylike again. Some favor the panties that are open at the back, so they don?t have to take them off at all. If you rip ?em off anyway, expect you?ll have a pouty pussyboy on your hands. There are Sissies who are popular for showing-off big erections. But that popularity is with closet-case Members. She didn?t have a friend that I could see. Amongst themselves Sissies have a clear pecking- order. I don?t know every last thing that makes a cunt high-status in Sissy society. But a visible panty bulge ain?t among ?em! Gigi coulda written the book on "How to Lose Friends and Outfluence People." After the "Tom Collins Incident" (that?s what the old queer calls himself at the Club) Gigi had been forgiven a half-dozen serious felonies, and more misdemeanors than you could shake a dick at. It was on super-probation last-chance status. Then it ran away. That?s no big deal. A few new hires a year realize whoring ain?t for them, and none of them give two-week notice. But few ever come back, and none get a second chance. This was above the Executive Manager?s paygrade. But, somehow, he got the Board to rehire the bitch! Gigi was back in prison for a couple more weeks, and "Project Gigi"?some sort of Obedience Training/Femininity Boot Camp?was a top management priority. Mallory was in-charge. Gould even let her poach instructors from my wait-staff, if we were slow. I don?t know what torture techniques got used. If they gave her the rack, it shoulda been bigger. Better I focus on the future than question the past. In fourteen hours I?ll once more be the C.C. Disco King! =========================================================== "Is sir ready for me now?" is what she says when I answer the knock. Definitely odd from the least respectful Sissy I?ve ever known. I get "Boss" and "Mr. Duvall," but most of these emasculated cum-guzzlers (Gigi included) usually call me "Chef." Today it?s all "Sir." If she mentions a Member or manager he?s Sir too, even if it makes the story so confusing it has to go back and explain which Sir it means. Even many of the Sissies are Miss this-or-that. It?s just after ten, the club?s not open, Gigi hasn?t been in good graces long enough to get back on the schedule yet, and she?s only traveling 100 paces and a two-floor elevator ride. Still she?s wearing towering gold-glittered stripper heels. She?s nearly eye-level with me, so they might be 8 inches. As we?re nose-to-nose I can see all the make-up. It?s not great work, but it is heavy?with inch-long fake lashes and glitter on the lids. Even in a whorehouse it?s a bit much for the morning. The thin-strapped black mini-dress is loose and simple, but too short to bend over in. It could easily be mistaken for a nightgown. She?s so unsure on the heels that it takes her nearly a minute to shuffle across my front room to get to my work area. While I do her manicure (polish: purple with gold glitter in it) it?s hard to believe what she?s saying, unless some literal brain-wiping technology got invented. If not zombiefied, she?s been well-coached in playing happy convert to feminine submission. First thing I say is I?m surprised she?s been released from her shackles. It?s meant it as a joke. "Sissy has a collar and cuffs in her room, if Sir wants Sissy to get them" is her reply. Nah, but I ask her what?s with the wild paint-job and shoes. "Eight. Sissy may not leave Sissy?s room unless she can show she is wearing at least seven facial cosmetic products, Sir. Sissy Gigi chose this eyeshadow to match Sissy?s shoes." "Nine. Sissy must, at all times when she is awake, wear shoes no less than six-inches high, with a heel no greater than one square inch, until she is put into service again. Sissy must learn to walk on these so she can manage the four-inch work shoes she will wear then." I tell her Sissies mostly keep the four-inchers for the late shift. "Oh, wearing 4-inches all the time when in service isn?t part of the rule. Sissy was only explaining to Sir the reason to wear the taller ones now, while Sissy has time to learn." Then I ask how long she?s expected to do this. "One. Sissy must comply with these rules until she can recite all of them in the correct order, but she must follow all rules an extra day for every violation of these rules. Sissy is good at memorizing, Sir, but she already got four extra days for slipping-up on her first day out. Miss Mallory said she would schedule me if I get 90% tomorrow, but I must follow all rules until I score 100%. So tomorrow is a real big deal!" I ask her how many rules she needs to know. "Seventy, Sir. Sixty-nine, plus the one explaining penalties if Sissy can?t remember all the others. It?s, like, a major pain in the... hard to do." What are two and three? "Two. Sissy must always address all men as ?Sir.? If a man tells Sissy to call him something else, Sissy will. But when Sissy sees him again, she will call him ?Sir? again..." Here she pauses, concentrates, then repeats it from the start. "Two. Sissy must always address all men as ?Sir.? If a man tells Sissy to call him something else, Sissy will. But when Sissy sees him again, she will call him ?Sir? again. If the man questions why Sissy is doing so, Sissy will repeat this rule to him." "Three. Except to repeat this rule Sissy may not say ?I or me.? Sissy may not say ?my or mine.? Sissy or Sissy?s must be substituted. Sissy cannot say Sissies name without saying Sissy before it." ============================================================ When I?m ready to start the pedicure, it stands facing away from me and asks my permission to lift the back of the dress. When I tell her sure, she daintily raises it with just one finger and thumb while the rest are spread, to avoid damage to her wet nails. The next surprise is a tattoo, still with a slight trace of swelling from recent work. It?s on the outward slope of her ass, running across the upper part of the butt cleavage. Lower than the usual tramp-stamp, it?s mostly below the waistband of it?s hot pink panties There?s a big floppy bow on the back, so has to edge ?em down half-way to give me a good look. "Sisi ! Gigi"?the capitals maybe 3 inches high, in a girly cartoonish version of hip-hop graffiti style. Lowercase in black, but the large capitals black-bordered with pink fill. The dot on each "i", a diamond reflecting light from it. I?m guessing the spelling "Sisi" is for symmetry (though it may be Spanish). The background to the "S" and "G" are milky splotches that look like cum puddles. The best I?ve ever seen?allowing that I?ve never seen a cumpuddle tattoo before. The "!" between the words?right at the top of the crack?is like a winking cartoon sperm, with a cockhead as the dot, so it looks a little like the shaft is hidden in Gigi?s crack. Weird thing is the sperm character has long eyelashes and lipstick which... kid?s today? I don?t fucking know. Seems to me this shows a dedication to whoredom more than parroting some rules and behaving for a few months. It?ll backslide on that eventually. The tat?s trampy as all hell, and kinda limits her options. But no amount of molding is going to make Gigi ladylike, or a prissy little pansy. So cheap slut seems the sensible career choice. She arches her back, tilts her hips and holds the pose for a moment. She wiggles it and giggles, swats the right cheek, before lowering the back of the dress, and itself into the seat for her pedicure. I reach to unbuckle the ankle strap on a tramp shoe. "Nine. Sissy must, at all times when she is awake, wear shoes no less than six-inches high, with a heel base no greater than one square inch, until she is put into service again, Sir." It won?t budge on this, even though I say I won?t tell. Shit! That pretty much makes foot massage and toe-sucking out of the question. I think about throwing her out. Act huufy that my artistry?s being compromised. But, I?m too curious about the new Gigi. They?re open- toed, so while the job?ll, it?s ain?t impossible. Before I?ve begun Gigi starts mouthing word from some papers that were folded in her bra. I tell her she?ll remember better if she reads them out-loud. Since I got shafted by Rule 9, may as well find out if there?s any that?ll work to my advantage. "One. Sissy must comply with these rules until..." The first section is about language. That ends with the rule explaining why she is talking this way. "Six. If Sissy is asked a question that can be answered by one of these rules, or is ordered contrary to any of these rules, Sissy must recite that rule, and number, before speaking further." Then the next dozen or so are dress code. Most of these are whole paragraphs, like wearing only skirts/dresses which can?t be longer two- inches above the knee (so the exact opposite of what Sister Agnes expected in my school). That?d seem clear enough without beating a dead horse by listing all the sweatpants, jeans and fishing waders that aren?t skirts! I wouldn?t say listening to this is exactly calming, what with Gigi?s squeaky toy voice. But the bitch has more of a femmy lilt than a month ago, and there?s a nice rhythm to the repeated "Sissy". I slight lisp on the "S" making is sound halfway to "Thithy." "Twenty-five. Sissy will never sit in the dining rooms, unless invited by a Member. Sissy will never eat in a dining room without prior permission from a manager or LS" "Twenty-six. Sissy may not propose sexual acts to men. " "Twenty-seven. If Sissy wishes a man to propose them to her, Sissy may express this with her body, but never words." Gigi stops here, causing me to look up. The teen cumslut lewdly flickers her tongue at me before ending with a tight smile and innocent batting of those big lashes. There?s a new neon orange ball piercing her tongue?probably explains the lisping. If Gigi?s only following the letter of the law, that could be trouble. Figure her staggering around on giant heels, twerking with her tongue lolling out might be a bigger disruption than "Lemme suck your dick, dude?" But there?s probably another rule for that. With me getting good and hard, I?m wanting better viewing entertainment. From long experience I know that miniskirts meet my needs better than minidresses, even if the dress is shorter. When sitting upright the skirt stays in place, or rucks up a bit, giving a good view, unless the bitch is thunder-thighed. Dresses though (especially loose ones with no waistline, like Gigi?s got on) will ride up at the back while hanging lower in front. This one being so short, Gigi?s damned sure got nothing between her ass and naugahyde, but it falls low enough to reach the chair between her legs in front. I?m pissed when I ask Gigi why she didn?t wear a miniskirt, like she was told. "Sir, Sissy had a miniskirt when Sissy requested this appointment with Sir yesterday. Later, Miss Athena threw out *all* my clothes! Miss Athena has given Sissy some shoes, bras and panties that Sissy Gigi can choose from, but Sissy has only two dresses, no skirts." I make like I care about the lost clothes, while enjoying the image of all her shit tossed on a bonfire. I praise Athena that these panties weren?t burned in offering. They ain?t perfect (all-mesh) but they?re sheer behind and not too covered by the big bow. In front and between the legs satin, though there?s a big diamond-shaped sheer cut-out in the middle. Through the front panel I can see Gigi?s pubes are bare as the day it was born; and also see the root of my interest. I can see the unclipped head peaking out the sheer back panel. Not my ideal. You can skin it back, but it won?t stay there if a bitch can?t get it up. The pronounced mound under the satin between looks very promising. "Thank-you Sir for excusing Sissy" is all the fucktoy says before reading from the list again. "Thirty-six. Sissy must wear Sissy?s chastity cage 24-hours a day, on days she is scheduled to work. Until further notice." "Thirty-seven. Sissy must at all other times securely tuck Sissy?s pee- pee in Sissy?s panties." "Thirty-eight. Sissy must wear panties at all times, unless their removal is required to allow Sissy to be penetrated." "Thirty-nine. When instructed by any supervisory staff member, Sissy must lift Sissy?s skirt or dress for inspection of Rule 36 or 37, and not lower the hem until instructed." "Forty. Sissy will obey the following commands from a Member: Stand, Sit, Kneel, or Bend-Over. And hold that position until instructed otherwise, or the man leaves the room." "Forty-one. When Sissy is commanded to bend over, it must be at no less than a 90 degree angle." "Forty-two. Sissy must always sit to make water. "Forty-three. Sissy must be completely and smoothly shaven below the neck, at all times. "Forty-four. Sissy must douche when..." I call a halt as it seems it?s going to be a boring toiletry/hygiene crap for a while. I ask her to repeat #s 37-40. O.K., so possibly the cunt could lawyer me on #40, but I think I win that. I?m still a sort of Member, even if not supposed to be behaving like one right now. #39 is a lock, since I?m clearly a supervisor. So she?s forced to do what I say. And the best part is even if she complained about this, I?m not taking liberties. More like I?m helping out, by putting the hole through its paces. I let her keep going until the end before fully asserting my authority. She?ll get through the list twice before I?m finished, and I want to see if there are more juicy bits later. But I do get the immediate issue taken care of. "Sissy Gigi," I growl, "raise your dress for inspection that Sissy?s pee-pee is properly tucked." It sounds stupid, but I wanna use the exact wording, so it seems official.. She does this instantly, while still reading. And not being an innocent wench she must realize I?m not going to tell her to lower it for awhile. So she sweeps the hem to one side, where she can hold it with one hand on the armrest, so as to keep on reading. Turns out there?s not a lot more that?s very interesting unless you care about the fucking mind-boggling amount of daily beauty and hygiene routines expected of a good Sissy bitch. Especially the endless variety of hosing and greasing techniques they use, so holes are ready for railing on demand. This is making sausage stuff, ain?t making sausage stiff. You don?t want to hear about the process, just want it available when you?re in the mood. It?s not a sex-slave manual?which is kinda disappointing. The mention of penetration in Rule 38 (and elsewhere) doesn?t say Gigi has to take it, just she?s allowed to take her panties off when she does. It?s all about keeping her nose clean, and on her toes, with a needed dose of random humiliations in the mix. Most boypussy digs that. They love being bottoms to superior males, and are used to doing as they?re told. Probably the ones that didn?t catch-on they needed a protector didn?t survive Junior High. I dunno how Gigi feels about it, but it doesn?t matter how she feels, as long as she performs. She?s still working in a service industry, and old Gigi wasn?t at all suitable. I?m gonna enjoy cutting the brat down to size. As soon as I?ve given her the last stroke of topcoat, I tell her, "Kneel, Sissy." Figure I?ll get to see her squirm, as that?s a pretty tough order without her messing-up wet toenails. The cunning whore looks nervous, before realizing it can turn in the chair so her feet hang off the edge, with her ass towards me. I tell her to bend over. "Forty-one. When Sissy is ordered to bend over, it must be at no less than a 90 degree angle. Sissy Gigi cannot achieve that position while Sissy is still commanded to kneel here, Sir." She still puts a little effort into pressing her nose in the seatback and shifting her ass up and out. Her knees slip wider to press against the armrests. She drops her script, as she?s in no position to read it. I slide my low, wheeled stool so my knees are pressed hard against the front of salon chair. I figure now is as good a time as any, while I fish for a bottle of lotion from my workbasket. I check it?s not the one with the pumice in it, as I don?t want to make that mistake again. The tied-waist scrub pants I wear in the salon allow me to release the beast effortlessly. It?s a matter of seconds, that I doubt Gigi would even notice. I lean forward so my nose is level with her fuckhole, and less than I foot away. What?s really turning me on is the rare chance to get my face so close to one that I?m certain hasn?t had a penis in it... for at least a couple of months. I catch a whiff of unperfumed fresh talc, with slighty musky undertones. Gigi is clearly keeping up with that rule that was somewhere in the upper 50s. I stroke myself rapidly. I should be supervising lunch prep already, and figure Gigi?s attention-span won?t allow her to stay still and silent for long. I make sure the Kleenex box is in range of my left hand. Gigi hits the button that makes the whole chair vibrate?accidentally? I can feel it through my knees. I can see her ass rippling. Mostly what I see is that cartoon sperm; so close that I?m cross-eyed and it seems to be wriggling. The vibrations of the chair cause Gigi to slip closer to my face. I close my eyes. Enjoy the moment. Feel the lightest pressure on my nose. It?s the brush of sheer panties. Gigi slips a bit further. My nose deep in her cleft. I think to back- off, but I?m seconds from finishing. I reach for the tissues, and... knock the box to the floor. Another inch of slippage. My face now fully in contact with Gigi?s hole and the organ tucked beneath it. I feel some moisture on my lips. I win the race, just in time. Before it gets gay. My bullish bellow, thankfully, muted by Gigi?s crotch, as my massive manly balls eject jet, after jet, after jet. It?s amazing, even by my standards. It?s got really good range for such a thick rope of... Fuck! ======================================================= "Oh, my fucking dress!" Gigi squeals. "What the hell am I going to wear!" "Shit!" and "Shit" ? one from each of us. How to not cross the line while getting-off on the staff requires knowing what crosses it. This ain?t a doozy, but for sure a pickle. Gigi at least gets her shrieking under control quickly. She maybe realizes that getting found out has risks for her too. After a few more "shits" and "fucks" she seems to remember there are rules on her list about inappropriate language. I could use those against her?and make up some more. This maybe doesn?t excuse me, but I could take Gigi down with me. She?s not trusted, so a simple he said/she said, where I deny false accusations would favor me. But with the heavily Lewinskied dress in evidence, declaring total innocence would be tough. Her eyes narrow as she gains a little composure. Mine too as I think, and realize I?m still gripping my sticky meat. For a moment it feels like the Mexican stand-off scene in "A Fistful of Shecock" (western, **, 1999). I consider the consequences. The Board is cracking-down on shit that wouldn?t raise an eyebrow five-years-ago. I get my fair-share of "calls to the principal?s office," but haven?t been nabbed for anything major since my first few years on the job. Not a chance I?d get fired for just this. The real risk is them wanting to send a message. They could take my Big Saturdays away! Eliminating that perk is the best hammer they got; suspending it the second best. Even a month barred from the Disco and the fucking is something I don?t wanna think about. I?m a guy innocently masturbating in his own home, who shot (a load on) someone accidently, but I?m not sure how that?d play with the jury. Confession is out of the question! Good thing is I?ve hosed her up the front while the dress was hanging loose beneath her. So the cum that?s on the dress is mostly on the inside (and on her underwear, belly, and, and maybe chin). But the dress is just two layers of really thin material, so some jizz will soak through soon. Black is the worst to hide it when it dries. Anyway, Sissies got like a sixth sense for semen. They?ll probably smell it on her at 50 paces. The chance of her getting back to her room without being noticed is nearly nil. It?ll take her a helluva long time to shuffle there on her big heels. It?s well after eleven, so there?ll be Sissies coming out of their rooms, late for work as usual, or going out to lunch and shop on a sunny Friday afternoon. Gigi starts to sob. I wipe down my whopper while considering alternatives. I suggest maybe give her one of my shirts to wear back to her room. It?d be about the size of the dress on her. She angrily blubbers whichever rule prevents that. And, yeah, maybe not the greatest idea anyway. Wringing it?s neck and disposing of the body at night seems extreme (though a nice thought). Besides, it?d cut into my Disco time! Seems like the best option is scrub everything in the sink and wring it out. Both my bathrooms have hairdryers mounted on the wall, to speed things up. But it ain?t gonna be real quick. I?m already running late. Maybe nobody notices Gigi?s absence, but if they come looking for me and put two and two together... The only solution is let her stay in my apartment and trust she destroys the evidence herself. "Ya got any breakfast, I?m hungry," Gigi whines. There?s still some coffee in the pot, and maybe eggs and cheese in the minifridge. I send her to look in my front room while I change into my whites. "I guess I?ll thumb through your DVDs while I?m waiting," she calls back to me. I cringe at thought of her fucking-up my cataloguing system. While I?m happy to lend ?em out, only I touch ?em, and I stick a card in the empty slot with name/date recorded for every loan. And don?t think I ain?t noticed how she?s gone from teary distressed damsel to cheery and casual in ninety seconds flat. Her last squeak shoulda been more like "Sissy Gigi asks Sir?s permission to look through Sir?s DVDs while Sissy is waiting." Once I?m ready for work I come back to my front room. All her sperm spattered shit is floating in my little kitchenette sink. The fucking kitchen sink! My fucking coffee cup?s bobbing beside her fucking bra, because she couldn?t be fucking bothered to set it aside. Is Gigi there washing and rinsing her clothes? She is fucking not. I round the corner to see fucking Gigi running her (excellently manicured) filthy fingers across my orderly massive wall of porn. She tosses another disk onto the small pile on my sofa. Looks like "Tranny Cum Burglars IV" (comedy/cumburgling, *, 2011). No surprise she?s picked the worst one in the franchise. She fucking deserves to watch that crap for violating my temple of fuck-flicks! Of course she?s wearing nothing but those towering shoes. She?s also lazily beating herself off. It?s even bigger than I expected. Her fingers aren?t the only thing touching my library. Gigi winks at me. Deep breath. Keep calm. Calm. Calm. Keep calm and carry onto work, just as usual. Now isn?t the time for rustling any feathers. Plotting revenge can wait. I exit as the heavy door swings slowly shut behind me. "That was one sweet hard-on, bro," she chirps. "Shame it?s not as big as mine!" Ah, well. Fuck it. Only twelve and a half hours before I?m the C.C. Disco King again.