2 comments/ 73458 views/ 21 favorites Public Cross Dressing Experience Ch. 01 By: sublocked Don stirred in the hotel bed. He was uncomfortable, and he was unsure why. His head was pounding to the beat of his heart. He pulled his knees up toward his chest to try to squeeze into a sleepy fetal position. It was then that he realized something was very different here. He felt compressed and restricted. He was lying in a bed, but what bed? It wasn't his. And he had shoes on. He was confused. The room was dark, but where was he? Slowly his aching eyes focused on dark curtains at the window. Scanning the room he saw generic pictures of pastoral landscapes in cheap picture frames, and a small desk with chair. It looked like a hotel room. Alarmed, he tried to sit up but was immediately restrained by the tightness at his waist and chest. "Jesus Christ!" he said out loud. He felt his waist and it was satiny smooth with a zippered garment running from his crotch up to his chest. He was tightly cinched in a corset. As his hands moved upward he found that at the top of the corset was a small padlock where the zipper ended, and above that was a bra filled with realistic, soft and squishy prosthetic breasts. Not only that, but his head not only ached but it felt enclosed in some way, and warm. Hair, long hair flowed from his scalp. How could this be? It was like one of those transformation stories that he read about in his fantasy searches on the internet, the ones where a man suddenly wakes up and finds that he has been magically transformed into a woman. His headache didn't allow him to enjoy that fantasy at the moment. "What the---? What the fuck is going on here?" He managed to sit up now, and dangled his legs over the side of the bed. How had this happened? His legs were encased in nylon and lycra stockings attached to his corset garters and he had high heeled shoes on his feet. He felt his "breasts" and they seemed quite large and were supported with a bra which allowed them to jiggle and bounce when he moved. Must be made of some kind of gel, he thought. They seemed to pull on his chest muscles on each bounce. Strange. Upon examination, they were attached with adhesive. Fully awake now, he turned on the light and surveyed the room. This was scaring him. He had no recollection of going to a hotel or spending the day dressed up. Come to think of it, what day was it? Was it even day time? The clock beside the bed said 9:05, and just when he looked, the alarm went off, making him jump. As he reached out to find the alarm shut-off he noticed his hands, with long, fake manicured nails painted bright red. Jesus, he must have been drunk last night or something, he thought. He tapped his fingernails on the bedside table. Hard as rocks, those nails were not coming off any time soon. Who was he with last night? Had Tessa and Jen been with him? They dressed him up lots of times and had fun with his cross dressing. Maybe they were in the bathroom, he thought and hoped. He decided to get up and try to figure this out, so he stepped out toward the bathroom in his high heels, walking the way they had taught him to walk over the past year. Catching a reflection to his right, he stared with disbelief at the image. Standing there was a very good looking blond woman, wavy hair down to her shoulder blades, dressed in a black bra, red corset and garters, black panties, and black stockings. The waist was drawn in severely by the corset to give an hourglass silhouette. He felt it now, to make sure he wasn't dreaming. He had never been laced up this tight before, which explained his breath coming in shallow gasps. His breasts over hung the top of the corset and the bra struggled to support. Testing, he bent his knees up and down a few times resulting in the unmistakable feminine bounce. Somehow he had been transformed into this "woman" without even knowing it had happened. His face was fully made up, and there was no residue of masculinity remaining to him. Except of course the penis rising in his panties. He had never been so surprised to be so turned on in his life. The bathroom was empty but for an envelope with the name Donna on it. Before opening it he traced his bright red fingernails over the meticulous makeup job. It was all dry as well, with no smudging. Amazing. Ripping open the envelope he read: Dear Donna, By now you may realize that I administered something to you last night that hopefully dimmed or erased all your memories of the last eight hours. Your name is Donna and you are staying at the TransContinental Hotel on 5th Avenue and you are on the 16th floor. You looked gorgeous when we finished with you at about eight o'clock this morning, but what we can hardly wait to see is you at the Metronome Restaurant at noon. You know where that is---it's six blocks due south, just on the edge of downtown. Now the details, at least as much as you need to know at this point, in case you don't know it, your corset is locked on, with the laces coiled in a pocket which covers the laces in the back. Just so you know, it was a bitch of a job getting you into that thing! Your breasts are glued on with a surgical adhesive I got from the hospital and cannot be removed without a solvent chemical designed for that. Your makeup is all long-lasting waterproof stuff. It shouldn't be smudged, but before you go, you might want to refresh your lipstick. Oh, and brush your hair. Your head has been shaved and we applied the wig with the same surgical adhesive, so don't worry about the brush pulling the wig off. It won't. In fact we shaved your entire body, so no need to worry about any masculinity showing through. LOL It was truly strange to see you seemingly awake and conscious as we did anything we wanted to you all night. We took some pictures which we can show you at lunch. The pictures go on your Facebook page if you somehow manage not to show up. Are you having fun yet? Now for the truly interesting part. There are no male clothes for you to put on. I left a beautiful form-fitting dress on the chair by the balcony window. It should suit you just fine. It has enough body that it should hide the fact you are wearing a corset. The neck is high and frilly so your Adam's Apple will not be visible. I also left you a light coat that you can wear if it is colder than the forecast predicted. The matching purse contains only your lipstick, other makeup, hair brush, and cell phone, nothing else. You have no credit cards or cash. What a shame, huh...giggles, no taxi for you! Checkout time is eleven o'clock and I have prepaid the room so you can leave when you get up enough guts...LOL. The room is booked by someone else for early occupancy today (what a coincidence eh?), so you can't simply tell the maid to leave. She WILL ask you to leave. I figure it's probably about 9:30 now as you read this, so that leaves you about an hour and a half to get ready to join us for lunch. By the way, it's Tuesday, and the downtown lunch-goers won't really notice another well dressed woman going about her business---or will they? That depends on you I guess. I know you have never tried to pass in broad daylight before. Just remember to walk and carry your purse like we taught you, you'll be fine. And for God's sake, if it is hot, do NOT wear the coat or you'll become a sweaty man in drag, and you definitely do not want that, do you? LOL We have a reservation at the Metronome and we'll be waiting for you. Love, Tessa and Jen PS: Take the pills on the bedside table to get rid of your headache. And I almost forgot, no lady is complete without jewelry. You have bangle ear rings (cheap clip-on ones but they're pretty good) and a bangle bracelet and a fine gold necklace. They're in the purse too. Have fun sweetie! XOXOXOX Don put the letter down on the countertop and stared at himself in the mirror. His heart was pounding and he felt slightly sick. They had outdone themselves this time. Sure they had tried to embarrass him before, but never like this, and never in broad daylight. It had been fun getting hooked up with these two last year. He had met them at the fetish club over on 17th Avenue and at their request he had moved in with them as the third "girl" in the 3-bedroom condo. Tess, a medical doctor with questionable ethics, and Jen were lesbians and were amused by his fetishes for women's clothing, dressing him up and doing him up as best they could. He loved it of course and in return all he had to do was pay his portion of the condo fees and do all the housework. It was a perfect symbiotic relationship. Until now. He looked at the clock. It was 9:43. He pulled his panties down to the garter tabs and sat on the toilet to pee. The corset was impossibly tight and it restricted him so that he had to sit up straight. The tightness plus the new anxiety with his predicament gave him a light headed anoxic feeling. With his sharp manicured fingernail he dislodged some "sand" from his eyes and brushed it away. He decided he didn't dare mess with the makeup in any way, as it was flawless. His head was pounding, so he went to the bedside table with a glass of water and took the pills. Sitting on the bed he waited, hoping beyond hope that they worked instantly. They didn't. What the hell was he going to do, he thought? He could remove everything except his corset and wig and wrap himself in towels while calling a cab, but that would still look nutty, a guy with boobs secured to his chest, a long blond wig to his head, and a corset locked on. Oh, and he remembered the letter said he had no means to pay the cab anyway. Shit! He looked around in panic, hoping to find something, anything, that could remove him from this quandary. Tess and Jen's plan seemed foolproof. There was no way out of this. Call the police? No way. His uncle was a police officer. Word got around. It was 9:51. He periodically sipped the water and waited for the pills to work so his head would clear and he could find an honorable way out of this. He could just explain to the front desk that some people had tricked him into dressing this way and that he needed them to call a cab for him. He could just see the smirks. No, after creating several different scenarios in his head, there was only one way, and Tessa and Jen knew it. He had to play this out and walk the six blocks to the restaurant, eat lunch with them, and depend on their mercy to get him home some time in the afternoon. It was 9:59. One hour and he had to be out of there. He went to the chair at the balcony window and examined the dress he was intended to wear. It was somewhat heavy in weight, but light in texture, red with some black trimming in a sexy but business style, with traces of red and black lace at the neck and the ends of the sleeves. He unzipped the back and stepped into it, pulling it up and with difficulty did up the zipper. While it was tight and stretchy at the waist and upper hips, the skirt portion hung free and swirled outward when he turned. His male bulge could not be seen. The hem was about at the knee. There was a stretchy black belt accessory with a bold gold colored interlocking buckle that he did up and adjusted to fit his corseted waist. Picking up the purse he checked it for contents and it was exactly what she had said. The ear rings were easy to attach, but they felt strange as they swung around, weighty on his ear lobes. The necklace was harder to put on, especially with his fingernails so long. He placed the purse over his shoulder and put the coat over his arm and went to the mirror, standing and turning, looking this way and that way, the ear rings jingling slightly as he turned. 10:15. His heart was pounding, but his headache was gone. He didn't dare wait until the maid knocked on the door, as he didn't want anyone to see him up close. He had to leave soon and hope he met no one. He powdered his face slightly and reapplied his lipstick. Walking back and forth he practiced the female walk just as they had taught him, elbows slightly in at his new waist, steps short and one foot almost directly in front of the other like walking on a railway track. He was contemplating his figure and looking for flaws but he couldn't find any. Last item---he had to start believing he was Donna, not Don. He stared at himself and said, "Well Donna, you're in quite a pickle aren't you?" Just then his cell phone rang inside the purse and he screamed like---well, like a girl. Being unfamiliar with his new nails he tried unsuccessfully to press the answer button, finally getting it right and saying, "Hello?" The ear rings clanked on the phone. It was Tessa. "How ya doin Donna? All set for your walk?" "Jesus Tess. What the hell do you think you're doing? I'm dressed to the nines here. How am I supposed to get to the restaurant without drawing attention to myself?" "Welcome to my world Donna. Most women have to deal with that all the time. You better make sure they notice you for the right reasons though. A man decked out like that creates negative attention, wouldn't you say? Now, if you're a good girl and act like one, that will create some positive vibes. Keep your head up and for God's sake look confident. Don't shift your eyes around to see if anyone is making you." "Shit!" He paused, trapped, "Tess?" "Yes Donna." "You have to come and get me! I'm scared shitless here." "Aww, poor baby," she said with sarcasm. While she always encouraged him to dress up, she never hid the fact that she believed him to be a feminine sissy. It was part of how she got enjoyment out of the relationship. Rather sadistic, but no harm done. It was what everyone wanted in the triangle, thus the symbiosis was complete. Ignoring his demand, she said, "It's 10:35 Donna. You better get moving. We girls are going to have a wonderful lunch, aren't we? I'm even going to order some light white wine to get silly with. See you soon." Click. Oh God, Donna thought, while still holding the phone to his ear. He put the phone back in his purse and took as deep a breath as possible in the corset to calm himself. "Now," he said out loud, "I'm going now. I have to go now. Shit!" One last check in the mirror and then he opened the door to the hallway, peeking around the frame checking for people. Seeing none, he stepped out. The open door hovered behind him like the edge of a cliff. He let it go with a surge of fear and adrenaline as it clicked and locked behind him in as final a sound as he had imagined it would be. He was on his own now. There was no place left to retreat. His breathing was shallow as he walked neatly to the elevator. Short steps, heel in front of toe, elbows at waist, hand on purse. He was trying to control his breathing as the elevator door opened. Nobody there. Thank God. He pressed the Lobby button and waited for the door to close. Please let me have some luck here, he thought. Please. 15---14---12---11---10, the floors went to history above him, and then the elevator slowed and stopped. The doors parted and two thirty-something business men walked on, briefly looking Donna in the eye before scanning and staying at breast level for what seemed like an eternity. "Fuck off," Donna wanted to say, "Eyes up HERE!" The door closed and the elevator went to floor nine where three more men and one woman got on. The woman looked at her and scanned her with an even more aggressive eye assault, shoes to top of head. She was fat and not dressed that well and it was apparent Donna made her uncomfortable. She went to the far side of the elevator to avoid direct comparisons by the men. Nobody spoke and everyone stared at feet, men occasionally stealing a glance at breast or legs. It was so freaking obvious. The smallest of the men happened to be standing next to Donna. The man glanced up at the advertisement monitor above the elevator doors and then cast a look directly sideways into Donna's face. The look lasted a bit too long for Donna's liking and he returned the glance fearfully. Their eyes met and held briefly and then the man smiled and turned away. Instinctively Donna reached into his purse simply to display nonchalance. The man knew. Donna tried to control his knees while standing in the high heels. The breathing was the hardest, and he thought he felt slightly light headed, like he might faint, but no one else entered the elevator, and when the doors opened at the lobby no one moved out. Suddenly it dawned on him that the men were letting her exit first. As he left, he could feel the men's eyes on his ass. Being a fully heterosexual cross dresser, he found that this was the most difficult thing to deal with. What if they hit on him? Stepping into the lobby was like walking on to a stage completely naked in front of thousands. Or worse, stepping on to a stage dressed in women's clothes. He felt vulnerable and alone, and struggled to walk with a feminine stature. He caught the reflection in the mirrored walls to his right and saw himself, feminine, poised, beautiful, and with a thousand eyes following his every step. Was this the way a woman felt all the time? Did they ever get used to this? Or were they looking at a man in drag? His knees were still shaking but at least the shoes were quite comfortable. Even though the heels were about four inches high, maybe five, he walked easily down the street. People on the sidewalk parted for him. It was unbelievable, and he started to allow himself to believe that he was a she, and addressed himself accordingly in "her" mind. Donna had entered the world of womanhood and the thrill was almost orgasmic as she walked, flicking her hair back over her shoulder as she went, the wind blowing it back. It was warm and she didn't need the coat so it hung over her left arm. Her breasts bounced embarrassingly and the heat under her wig was unpleasant. She hoped she would not sweat. If she did, she would smell like a man, she knew. Tess had forgotten that one detail. Female perfume would have been nice. As he walked, he fantasized. He felt as though he could live this way full time, it felt so exquisite. He could quit his job at the bank and maybe even become a receptionist, but then he remembered his voice. That could never change---or could it. He resolved to work on that and find that female tone so that passing in public was complete. His thoughts were his own as he went, with full confidence, block after block. It was 11:35 and there was the Metronome, just on the other side of the intersection. The light was red. He had made it. "Excuse me miss. Could you help me find this address? I'm new in the city." A well dressed senior perhaps in his sixties blasted his way into Donna's tranquility and feminine smugness. Donna was going to have to find that voice, and now. He delayed as long as possible, glancing at the red light, his feet, and then his eyes. His eyes. They were not looking at Donna's eyes at all. Again, the male stare, flicking from his face to his breasts and back again. God this was uncomfortable, he thought, and so fucking unfair. I am a person. A woman is a person, look at me, look at my face, he wanted to say. Donna decided to just do his best. "Of course, where do you need to go?" The voice somehow came out neutral, deep, but like a Bea Arthur. But the feminine appearance he cut, with long fingernails pointing at his map, and hair flying across his face, overwhelmed any doubt the old fellow may have had, if he had even thought about it. After a brief flurry of instructions and hand waving, the man said thank-you and went on his way, glancing backward only once to look at his feminine legs. The light had gone green and back to red in the time it took to help the man, so Donna had to wait out the red again. He felt the eyes of seemingly every man on the street, even those from cars whizzing by. This was crazy, he thought. He tried to maintain His balance between his opposing viewpoints as to why they were staring. Was it because they saw a woman, or was it because they saw a man in drag? Despite his doubts, he was now ecstatic with the ride, and barring getting beaten up by gay-bashers, he was now okay with either vision of his gender. Public Cross Dressing Experience Ch. 01 The last few feet. He entered the Metronome and the darkness reduced her vision. The hostess approached him and said, "Good morning. Do you have a reservation Ma'am?" What a feeling, being called ma'am automatically. "Tessa Green made the reservation." "Ah yes, they've been waiting for you. Right this way ma'am." The restaurant was huge, and sparsely occupied as it was still early for lunch. As they walked, the hostess made small talk, "Beautiful day, isn't it. You look lovely. By the way, I just love your shoes. Where did you get them?" Tough question. Internet? Better say something else. She made up the name of a store in Seattle which seemed to satisfy her. Tess and Jen greeted her at the table, doing the female hug and cheek peck with grace and elegance before they all sat down. They just sat and smiled at each other, shaking their heads, for a few moments. Jen spoke up finally, "I honestly can't believe it. You look great. Are you having any fun? Here, have some wine." She poured a glass of Chenin Blanc and passed it to her. "I've alternately died of embarrassment and ecstasy, death by a thousand cuts. I think I've had enough though. This corset is so tight I don't even know if I can eat much lunch before we go home." Tessa and Jen exchanged glances and smiled. Passing an envelope to Donna, Tessa said, "Here is your next set of instructions." "What? Come on, wait a minute. We ARE going home after this, right?" "It's a long day Donna. Lots to do yet before we sleep. You're a woman for a day. Enjoy it. I know I am." Tess handed the menu to Donna who took it and placed it beside the unopened envelope. "No, this is enough Tess. Come on. This has been terrifying and fun, but I want to go home. My feet are killing me, and my corset is squishing me to death. Besides, I need to go to the bathroom and I don't know how long I can hold it." Tess spoke up, "The bathrooms are over there. Oh, and if you don't want to play our game, just say so. Remember, you have no credit card, no cash, and no means to get home without us. Just how long do you think you could go? It's a long walk to Braeside with heels on, don't you think? Oh, and wait till we show you the pictures." It was ten miles. And the slightlt veiled threat of Facebook exposure was pretty clear. He opened the envelope and read: The Olay Bar on Seventeenth Avenue (2 blocks from here) opens up at 4:00. Go there and choose either a table or sit at the bar, spending the time drinking alone. We should be done at the Metronome by about 2:00, so that means you'll have about 2 hours to kill. Go where you want. We've arranged for you to run a tab at the Olay. Just say your name is Donna. We'll come by and pick you up at 6 o'clock for supper. Make sure you don't let anyone else pick you up, so don't get too drunk. And keep your makeup fresh. Good practice for a woman. LOL Donna looked at her two lesbian friends with her mouth open, and shook her head. "Please. Come on. I'm not going to do this." But she knew she did have to do it. They had cleverly removed any choices from her. He was "she" for today. They just smiled at her and the server interrupted them asking for orders. After ordering, Donna asked again, "Tess? Jen? Oh God, you've really done it this time haven't you? You're going to make me do this. What if someone figures me out?" "Funnier still," laughed Tess, "I guess you'll just have to play the part perfectly won't you?" Donna downed her wine in about sixty seconds and held out her glass for more. "Take it easy girl, or you'll get picked up at the bar," Jen laughed. Donna, realizing there was no choice in this real life play, said, "Well, at least he'd fucking take me home!" Laughing, they did a toast to that, and Donna said, "I really, really need to go to the bathroom. What the hell am I going to do?" "Girls stick together," Tess said, "We can go together." Apprehensively Donna said, "To the lady's washroom?" "Now where else do you think you could go looking like that?" Jen stood up first and Donna and Tess followed. Both excited and terrified, Donna entered the empty washroom and entered a stall to pee. As she started to close the door, Tess squeezed into the stall with her and locked the door. "What the hell are you doing?" whispered Donna. Tess laughed and returned the whisper, "Your first trip to a woman's washroom, I don't want you to be left alone. Hurry up. Pee." She giggled. Rather awkwardly and self-consciously Donna did her business and when she finished she started to pull up her panties. Suddenly, Tess pushed her back down on the toilet and got on her knees, taking her cock in her mouth. It didn't take long. Here she was dressed as a woman, passing as a woman, sitting inside a woman's washroom. The fantasy and reality merged within her mind and she emptied herself into Tess's mouth, stifling male grunting as she did so. Tess quickly swallowed and stood up, leaving the stall and returning to the table with Jen, who had been standing guard. Donna was left gasping and sated in the stall, but it was different now. Fantasy burst like a frail bubble with the orgasm, and she now felt extremely vulnerable. His name was Don. It was not Donna. He was dressed like a woman. In public. Very public. He contemplated staying in the stall forever, but he knew he couldn't. This was an absolute horror. Several minutes passed and he tentatively opened the stall door and left the room, joining the grinning girls at the table. The meal had been delivered and they were eating. He sat down and silently started to eat as well, washing the food down with copious amounts of Chenin Blanc. They had ordered another bottle. At 1:45 Tess and Jen got up and went to the washroom again, leaving Donna to sit alone, sipping on coffee, casually but fearfully surveying the remaining patrons. The noon rush was over, and he was beginning to feel more at ease again. Also, the fantasy was returning. It always did. Suddenly his cell phone rang in his purse. Oddly it was Tess. "The bill has been paid. You're on your own. See you at six. Have fun." Click. Oh God, she thought, here we go. Donna left the table and went to the washroom, this time to fix her makeup, a little bit more mascara, some powder and lipstick. This was it, but where to go? Oh God, where do I go, she thought? Exiting the restaurant, she surveyed the area and froze. There was no place that she could see that would afford her invisibility. The young girl taking care of the door for the Metronome came over to her and asked, "Ma'am? Can I call you a cab?" "Oh my God yes. I mean, no. I mean I'm fine. Thank-you." Donna just started walking, with nowhere to go, just walking. There was no choice. The sun was hot, so she crossed to the shady side of the street and saw a bar or pub that looked like it would be dark and cool, and walked in. The place was called "Jason's Place" and it was as she had hoped, very dark and cool, with only a few men scattered at the bar and tables. She had been in many of these places before and it felt familiar, a feeling she craved at the moment. She forgot two things. Her name was Donna, not Don. And she had no money. But the fog of the Chenin Blanc at lunch had diminished her judgment just enough, just enough to order a drink when she sat down. It was a bad decision. Public Cross Dressing Experience Ch. 02 Donna's eyes were now accustomed to the murky darkness of the bar. The gin and tonic had disappeared from her glass a bit too quickly as she became immersed again in this bizarre charade and fantasy. The corset remained unflinchingly tight, holding her erect and feminine, and her shaved body was slippery under the dress, hose and panties, her penis reacting with every movement, sliding, rising, subsiding, rising again. She closed her eyes and tried not to think or feel this, but it was too overwhelming. The enclosure in women's clothes and persona was too much. She sat there observing the inside of the bar and realized that to all within it she was a woman, no questions asked, and that was both thrilling and alarming. Again she closed her eyes and her lips parted as she moved her hips imperceptibly back and forth on the seat in the booth behind the table. She briefly touched her breasts in the guise of straightening her necklace. Her breathing became erratic and even more shallow than the corset allowed... "Can I buy you a drink?" Donna started and opened her eyes. What the fuck? "What?" she said, clearly shocked at the abrupt disruption of her imminent orgasm, "Pardon me?" A middle-aged man with thinning grey hair leaned on the back of the chair opposite her at the table. He was tall but heavy set, had glasses, and was dressed business casual, a pair of black pants, blue shirt, no tie, but with a sports jacket. In contrast to the clothes, he had at least two days growth of beard, and his hands looked dirty, but with gold and diamond rings on almost every finger. Pimp-like, dangerous, Donna thought. He leered and said, "Sorry I interrupted your, err, sorry I interrupted you. But can I buy you a drink? You look like you need some company." Scared now, "Thank-you, but no. I'm fine." And she looked away. He sat down. Donna ignored him and reached into her purse as a distraction to make herself look aloof. He stared at her and smiled with absolute confidence. "Never seen you in here before, have I? Not your regular walk is it? By the way, pretty obvious you were about to have an orgasm. I can help." Donna reacted with anger, her eyes flashing, her voice perhaps a bit masculine, "I said no to the drink, and I did not say you could sit down here. And what you THINK was happening is a disgusting comment. Now, leave or I'm going to get the manager." He sat back and folded his arms, quiet for a few moments. "I am the manager," he said with that by now familiar leer, "and if you're gonna act like that, then I'm gonna ask YOU to leave. The hookers that come in here normally don't get as hostile as you, so why don't you pay your fucking bill and leave? I like friendly people in my bar." Donna was flustered. Her gin high was tossed aside by the danger adrenaline in her system. It was then that she remembered she had no means to pay. No cash, no credit card, nothing. This called for desperate measures. "Okay then, I will leave!" Abruptly, she got up and walked quickly to the door, her knees wobbly with fear. The grab on her arm was severe and bruising, heavy with brute strength. "You weren't thinkin' of leavin' without payin', were you? Cuz, I wouldn't like that. Ten bucks, then get the fuck out." Donna shuffled her feet, still with her back to him. "Umm, let me make a phone call okay? I don't have any money. I'm sorry." The manager twirled her around. "You come into my bar, order a drink, and you don't have any fucking money?" The Jack Daniel's veins in his face were almost bursting with anger as he glared at her. Suddenly he smiled. "Tell you what, you can pay me in services rendered." He pulled her close and said, "Ten dollar blow job and I won't call the cops. Deal?" Donna was thinking frantically. Sure, this guy was old, but he was big, and street wise, tough. Should she blow her cover and pepper him with fists and run away? Run away in high heels. Not a fast exit. "Look, a friend of mine is coming by to join me. She should be here soon. I need to phone her okay?" Disappointed, he whispered, "Okay, but it better be soon. You embarrass me in front of my regulars and I don't want you in here, get it? If your friend ain't here in ten minutes, it's cops or a blow job. You better make up your mind." Donna called Tess' cell and waited. One ring, two rings...please pick up, please pick up. "You've reached Tess. Leave a message. Bye." Donna was stunned. She pretended to talk to a live Tess, "Oh Hi Tess. Yeah I know, I know," (pause, pause), "yes, oh you're on your way? Good. Look I've got an incident here. Need your money girl, emergency," (pause, pause), "Yeah, Jason's Place, across from the Metronome. Okay, see you soon. Bye." To the manager, "She's on her way. Don't worry; you'll get your money." He leered at her again and grabbed her left breast, massaging it while pushing her toward a side door. Luckily the glue held fast and when he removed his hand her breasts were still intact and even. The touch appeared to embolden him even more and his breathing became deep and loud. "Maybe I don't want the money now. Did you ever think of that? Maybe I just want a blow job." He pushed the door open and with surprising strength and agility, pushed her into the side entrance hallway, a place that stank of urine and semen, but was devoid of light. "No! Stop right now or I'm going to hurt you," Donna yelled, summoning her masculine side. "Really now? A nice little girl like you hurting me? Good one." Before Donna could react, he grabbed her right arm and got it in a lock behind her shoulder blade, and forced her to the floor with one strong hand. With the other, he undid his fly and flopped his penis in front of her face. "One false move, and your arm gets broken. Now suck my dick slut!" Her shoulder was almost to the point of dislocation. He knew how to do this and his grip was like a vice. Donna smelled but could not see the penis in front of her face. He was searching out her mouth as it slapped against nose, cheek, then lips. "Suck it bitch. Suck it and swallow it bitch," as he thrust into her mouth. With her free arm she started to swing at him, but he simply applied more pressure on the arm lock, causing her to retreat and re-think her defiance. She had underestimated his strength. There was no real alternative. She took him then and he thrust deep into her mouth causing her to gag slightly. Donna just wanted this over. Instead of him relaxing as she worked him, he pulled harder on the arm, so she worked harder as well, probably the response he wanted. Even as he came, spitting the disgusting goo down her throat, the arm lock grew so tight that she was sure she would loose that battle too and break her arm. He pulled hard on her arm and said, "Swallow darling. Swallow it all. That's it. Yes." She worked him until he was dry, swallowing as much as she could, wondering if she had just at this minute in her life contracted AIDS. The manager relaxed now and let her arm go. The only sound was his heavy breathing. The only taste was his semen. The only smell was of him, and the only feeling was one of rage and humiliation. The darkness of the hallway was not as dark as it had seemed earlier, and Donna lowered her arm in pain until circulation and the normal bending motion returned. She saw his silhouette in the light of a crack in an exit doorway and kicked. Her shoe connected with a sickening thud into the very organ she had just had in her mouth and he doubled over in helpless agony. Donna was Don now, and he brought his knee up to meet the manager's descending face, silencing the beginnings of his scream. He dropped with a thud, out like the light. For good measure, Don kicked him again in the ribs, unmistakably breaking some or all in the vicinity of the shoe. He was not going to be getting up any time soon. With a surprising degree of coolness born of necessity and adrenaline, Don reverted to Donna and walked back into the bar and looked around. Not one person even looked at her, so she walked to the ladies room to freshen up. Suddenly her hands started to shake as the adrenalin levels changed once again. The cell phone rang in her purse and she picked it up, "Tess? It's about fucking time. I'm dying down here. I just was raped. Well not technically raped, but I was forced to give a guy a blow job. He almost broke my arm." She looked in the mirror as she talked. "Oh shit Tess! You've got to get here quick and get me home. I'm a mess. My make-up's a mess. I'm a guy in drag now. Oh shit, oh shit! Get me out of here." "Jesus Donna, what did you do for Christ's sake? Are you safe? Are you okay? I'm just outside and I'm coming into the bar. Where are you?" "I'm in the ladies room. The guy who got the blow job is unconscious in another room. Jesus, what a pig! I should have killed him. I feel like barfing. Got any toothpaste? I don't think I want to be a woman any more. Oh God, this fucking corset is tight!" The bathroom door opened and Donna cringed back into the corner. When Tess saw her she ran to her and hugged her close. "Oh my God, you look like shit! Okay, let's fix you up okay? Okay? Are you okay?" Whether it was the corset or all the clothes, makeup and wig combined, Donna looked at Tess and actually started to cry like a woman under stress, but caught it and held it back in a manly way. "Jesus, what the hell is wrong with me? I feel so, I feel so weird, so weak or something. Did you put me on hormones too? Jesus Tess, did you do that?" "No Donna, I didn't. I could, but I didn't. Now calm down and stand here under the light while I remove your makeup." "Remove it? How the hell am I going to pull this off if I don't actually look like a woman Tess? Jesus!" Tess grabbed Donna's head between her hands and spoke to her, inches from her face, "Donna, calm down, okay? Your stubble is showing through. I have to remove your makeup so you can shave again. Then I'll do you up again. I knew I'd have to do this anyway, so I have everything I need." While Tess was dabbing the makeup off, Donna asked, "What time is it any way?" "3:35." "Where's Jen?" "She's at work. She's expecting to meet you at the Olay Bar at 6:00, remember? Then we're going for supper." The makeup was gone except for around the eyes and Donna/Don began to shave with the electric shaver. Tess noted that Donna's nails were still in good shape as were her clothes, no rips or smudges of dirt or God forbid, cum. By 3:49 Don was Donna again, and very much calmed down. They left the bar together and walked to where they could see the Olay Bar. It was 3:57. Tess said, "The plan still applies girl. Go the bar. It opens right now. Remember what to do. The tab is open for you." She was almost running away from Donna as she told her this and Donna looked at her disappearing form in despair. "Tess? Jesus Christ Tess!" But she was gone. And there was nothing else she could do but go to Olay and wait for the next planned stage of this adventure. Donna felt like a puppet in a huge theater, manipulated and transformed at someone else's whim, captured and forced to act this play out. Oddly, it aroused her and her penis stirred once again, remembering her interrupted orgasm in the bar earlier. She walked to the Olay door and looked inside. An odd pink and black décor beckoned with soft lights and curtained walls and windows. She opened the door and entered. Sitting at the bar alone Donna gazed around the room. Odd décor. Lots of pictures of women on the walls in various stages of undress. Some were lesbian couples, and some wore fetish gear. Was this another fetish club in the city she was unaware of, she wondered? "What'll you have sweetie?" asked the female bartender, a monstrous woman of well over six feet, although trim and well proportioned, curvaceously maintained by an external black corset over a short red dress. Her hair was short and black and her makeup was perfect and regal. Studs lined both her ears from top to bottom and her fingernails were short but matched her dress. "Chardonnay please. My name is Donna." "Oh yes, of course. It's all been arranged for you. Welcome to Olay. My name's Evita." There was an awkward silence then as Evita explored Donna's body and clothing. She seemed to snap out of it and walked to the other end of the bar to pour the wine. Bringing it back to Donna, she placed the wine glass down and leaned on the bar, hands spread wide and leaning forward. "You look great," she said, "How long have you been a woman?" Donna already had the wine to her lips and the directness of the question took her by surprise. Her breath expelled from her mouth in a rather violent fashion, ejecting a small spout of wine onto the bar. "What? I, umm, what? What kind of a question is that?" she said, hoping the makeup would conceal the burn in her cheeks. Evita replied, "I thought, oh, Tess said, umm, look, I'm so sorry. That was a stupid question. This glass is on me ma'am." Donna had already finished the glass by now. "Good then. I'll have another. What time is it?" "4:23. It's early. Normally we don't get members in so early, but here you are. I, umm, assume you are a member?" Donna squinted her eyes. "Member? Tess didn't say anything about membership. What is this place anyway?" "You don't know? Look, this is kind of awkward. I don't want you to get the wrong idea and be intimidated or anything, but this is a lesbian bar. We open at 4 and close at 3 AM. Most of the good stuff happens after 10. Are you sure you're okay with that?" Donna stared at her in silent disbelief for a few moments, thinking of where else she could go safely. Thinking of no other, she said, "Yeah, I'm okay with that." Again, the channeling of necessity. There was no other place. In an hour, a few women started to arrive, most of whom were dressed in business suits, direct from the office, enjoying a couple of drinks before heading home. Most were couples. The ones alone eyed her as a possibility. They either stayed or would be back later. By 6:00 Donna had been served five glasses of wine and was feeling fine among a bar full of women. Both the wine and the situation were intoxicating, and she chatted with several prospective dates, none of whom guessed she was a he, as far as she could tell anyway. Her panties were soaked and she honestly wished she had a girdle on to conceal her perpetual erection. Trips to the ladies room required a constant cover of her genital area with her purse, and the whole scenario morphed into a dream state, surreal in its implications. Tess and Jen entered at 6:05 and several of the patrons hugged them as they entered, obviously in recognition of at least "regular" status, if not "lover" status. They sat on either side of Donna and they hugged, grinning widely. "You look good," Jen said, "How was your first blow job?" Donna glared at her and responded, "Jen, that's not funny. Tomorrow I'm going to get checked for AIDS, for Christ's sake. That is, IF you are so kind as to allow me to become a man again. I think my shape is becoming permanently altered by this corset." Tess intervened, "Well, your release depends on how you perform tonight girl. You need some initiation into womanhood, and this is the place to do it. We have The Room booked for you. But first, let's order some nachos and you can meet all our friends." "The Room? What's the room? Initiation? Can we take the nachos in there, cuz I'm starved?" Donna's sense of discretion and reason had by now been diminished to almost nil by the wine and fantasy. Facts and questions were disconnected in the fabric of time. Tess cast a secretive glance at Jen as she dropped a powder in Donna's glass. It dissolved without a visible trace. "Well, let's finish the nachos and wine first shall we? Here's to women!" And she raised her glass, clinking it with the other two. Donna drank with gusto, relieved to be with friends in a safe place, enchanted to be dressed in a corset and heels, perfectly at ease as a woman, for the first time in her life. Her penis ached for relief and she sensed it would come tonight. Finally, tonight. Public Cross Dressing Experience Ch. 03 The music was rhythmic, a monotonous synthetic beat, too precise actually, too perfect, and eventually the beat struck Donna like a pillow to the head. It didn't hurt; it simply enslaved him and his head began to almost imperceptibly bob up and down, invisible to those who did not know him. But he was incapable of dance. That required an effort, or an order. He sat there in a trance, waiting for instruction. Any orders would do. A voice came out of the fog, "Are you ready for the room?" "What?" It was Tess, "Are you ready for the room?" "The room. The room? What room?" Jen smiled and glanced at Tess, saying, "He doesn't have a clue what's going on do you Donna?" "Hey Jen, what's going on?" Donna asked. He took another prolonged drink of wine, like it was water and he was thirsty. Tess said, testing, "You've dreamed of being a woman, haven't you Donna?" His brow furrowed in confusion, "Yeah, I guess. I feel weird. Hey, lots of freaking beautiful women here. Holy shit!" He was slurring his words slightly. Again Tess tested him, "Look in the mirror Donna. You ARE a woman, remember? Look at your hair and makeup. Feel your clothes, the corset." "What?" Donna stared for a few moments, and then tried to wiggle his torso while he touched his breasts and corseted waist. "Wait," he said, "What's going on? What's going on? What's going on? What's going...What's?" His voice trailed off as he tuned once again to the beat. "God I love that music," he said absently. Tess smiled and stifled a laugh. Then she said to him, "We're going to take you to the room now and use you for the rest of the night okay?" "Sure. That's fine. Use for what?" "A whore, a slut, cuz that's what you are, right?" Jen said, giggling. "Huh?" He looked at himself again in the mirror and began touching his breasts and waist. "I feel weird," he said, "Oh fuck, oo boy, this is weird..." The drug increased its grip and squeezed him like the corset he was wearing. Jen said, "You're a woman tonight, remember? And you're a lesbian." Donna shook his head and said, "No, yes, that's right, I'm a woman, oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God...oh God...I'm a...Where am...?" His voice got shrill as he seemed to approach orgasm. And he was. Then he trailed off again and he was gone. Still there, but gone, awaiting instructions. "Follow me Donna," Tess said, grinning, "And when I give you instructions, please answer "Yes ma'am"." "Yes ma'am." His eyes were glazed and roaming, and his mouth hung slightly open. If not for his lipstick, his lips would have been dry as his mouth. He followed the two of them to the back of the bar where a corridor left the main room to the right and ended after about ten feet at a dead end. To their left was a door with two lights over it, one green, one red. The green one was on, but the door was locked. Tess put a key into the lock and turned. Donna looked on in a trance. He knew what was happening, but was looking on as if he was a casual observer from afar. The feeling was puzzling, interesting, and intriguing. Like a twisty country road, he wanted to see what was around the next corner. The door closed behind them with a whooshing, sound-proofed thump. The outside music disappeared as if a switch had been flipped. There were two light switches beside the door. Over one it said "green', over the other, it said "red". Tess flicked the "red" switch, and, invisible to them all, a red light went on over the door on the outside. To those that were in the know, that meant "A scene in progress, do not disturb". And it was truly a scene. Donna passively looked around the room. It was dimly lit with red lighting, and a smell of leather pervaded all. Seven other women stood were scattered about the rather large room, some with glasses of wine. To Donna, they seemed unreal. Their lips seemed to move as they chatted and smiled at each other and at him, but he did not hear anything. This baffled him, and he wondered if he had lost his hearing, until Tess whispered into his ear, "These are the women who are going to use you tonight. Make sure you satisfy them all. Is that clear?" He wondered what that meant, removed from reality as he was, but he said, "Yes, ma'am." Tess paraded him among the women and was allowed to touch them as they touched him. They lifted his skirt, felt his breasts, and kissed his lips. He felt dizzy with desire. "Now, I'm going to put this on you so you always remain hard for them." It was Tess or Jen. He was confused now, but it didn't matter. "Yes, yes, of course," he answered, as if that was obvious. She lifted his skirt and he stood there obediently as she fastened a strap-on dildo to him so that his new false penis bobbed provocatively up and down in front of him, and above his own member which was dwarfed by comparison. She dropped the skirt back down and all the girls laughed at the tent in his skirt, for it had two poles, only one of which would be used. His eyes continued to scan the room. It was padded, like a cell in an insane asylum, and in comparison to the electronic music he had just left behind, the silence here was soft and blunt, snickers, moans and gasps disappearing in the air like steam on a hot day. Bondage tables were strewn about, and tethering points were everywhere on the floor, ceiling and walls. Chains and leather and rubber paraphernalia hung about, hoods, corsets, blindfolds, gags, dildos. Donna took it all in, emotionless but understanding, in effect just passive and accepting, awaiting instructions. "Donna?" Tess said. "Yes ma'am?" "Lie down on this table while we tie you down." "Yes ma'am." And he lay on his stomach on the nearest table, the soft leather padding cold but forgiving underneath him. "On your back please." He flipped over and put his hands out when asked, while leather cuffs were attached, then locked to rings on the table and cinched tight. Several straps were pulled over his arms and legs and torso and consecutively cinched tight as well so that he could not move a muscle. When he was secured, all nine women clustered around him chatting incessantly and excitedly. Periodically some touched him or caressed his penis. To Don, it all felt surreal, like he was watching from afar, but he felt each touch, heard each whisper. His skirt had been pulled up over his corseted belly, and some of the women verbally marveled at his conversion to femininity. One said, "Just what I've been dreaming of, a woman with a penis." It was Janet, and Tess responded to her dream by saying, "Then you can have him first. Do what you like, and whatever is left open, one of us will take. We've got lots of time, and lots of wine." And with a flourish Tess said, "Ladies, start your engines..." It was a dreamlike scene to Donna as he looked about at all the women in various stages of dress or undress, like he had been abducted by aliens and they were discussing what experiments to administer to this strange being before them. Periodically he tried to break his bondage, just to see if he could, but there were so many bonds that, although muscles could be tightened, no movement could be attained. Janet came at him from behind his head, sitting on his face gently so it was obvious what he had to do. She quickly became aroused and involuntarily thrust her hips forward and backward, sometimes downward and angling so that his nose was pressed against her anal opening. Through it all he was impassive but aroused himself, wanting to do more, but only able to do what she dictated by her own movements. Periodically, he could not breathe as she squashed him with her impassioned weight. When panic arose within him, she somehow knew and pulled up to allow him to regain his breath. Then it began again, and so on, until finally Janet wanted to be filled. She pulled herself off his face and squirmed toward his penis which was aching to have her. Relieved that he could breathe without obstruction, he waited with excitement to enter her, but with confusion, he felt her rise and fall at his groin area, accompanied by gasps and moans. Soon, the sounds of her filled the room as she reached orgasm time and time again. Donna, in his drugged state, was not connecting the dots. He was puzzled as to why he felt nothing but excitement, an unrelenting denial of physical release. Then even as Janet writhed on top of him in ecstasy, another vagina descended upon his mouth and the cycle began again. This new woman brought new sounds of passion to the room, even while the other girls continued to sip wine around him and watch. In the distance he heard statements like, "I want to go next" or "you just had him, let Judith use him for awhile". Time stood still as he laid there, a human receptacle for the women's lust. After what seemed like an eternity, he realized that he was just an object of their lust, and had to simply perform for them. This was not for him; it was strictly for their fantasies. "Water, can I have a glass of water?" he heard himself say. His abuse had continued for several hours but had now stopped for a few moments while the women chatted and laughed around his tethered body. His lips were numb and tingling, and his jaw ached from oral exertion. One of the women laughed and poured some white wine down his open mouth. He choked and sputtered but drank as much as he could. This was repeated several times until he had had enough. In a rare moment of quiet in the sexual drama, one of the girls spoke up excitedly, "He's thirsty, so anybody need to pee? How about some golden showers for him? Is that allowed here? Or do we have to go to my place?" There was a chorus of both yays and nays about the idea but Tess spoke up with authority, "Nobody here is going to pee into my Donna's mouth, period. He belongs to me and I make the rules. I might do that some time, but not now, not here." Everyone nodded in agreement to that and Tess added, "Has everyone had their fill of him now?" It was 1:35 AM and everyone said yes, adding tidbits of private information like, "I'm too sore" or "my knees are too wobbly" amid gales of laughter. Donna laid there like the sexual apparatus he had become and listened, expressionless but knowing, and distantly processed his state of sexual objectification. Tess smiled at their responses and said, "Good. Now I'm going to mount him and make him cum. And I said no pee in his mouth, but I didn't say anything about his own cum, did I?" By now the drug's effects had peaked and were beginning to wane, being replaced with a fatigue and an increased awareness of his participation in these events. He pulled at his bonds to no avail. He did not want semen, his own semen or anybody's semen, in his mouth. But he was unable to verbalize it now. It was like the drug gave something back but took something away. The effort to talk was too great. And he needed and wanted to cum at any cost. The sequence began the same way, with Tess sitting on his mouth, but this time she pushed the strap-on aside and gently massaged Donna's penis while she rode his tongue. Donna would have bucked like a horse if he could, but all he could do was moan and close his eyes, hoping and praying that he would be allowed to cum. Suddenly, Tess left him. Donna's mouth reached for her, but nothing was there but cold wafts of air. He opened his eyes to see Tess straddle him, this time over his penis, and facing him. She plunged down upon him and they both gasped and moaned while Tess leaned with her hands on Donna's breasts, kneading them. Bending forward they kissed, a lesbian kiss of such gentleness and passion that Donna was overwhelmed with need and love for her. With the only available means in his body he pushed his lips upward, parting her lips with his tongue, sucking her up while she gently pumped up and down on his penis. Tess lifted her head and whispered, "Slowly, slowly Donna...that's it, slowly. I love you...slowly, yes, that's it. I'm going to let you cum...but not yet. Don't cum Donna...no. I need to cum first. I cum first...yes..." Her breath started to get ragged, but she continued to talk to Donna, preparing him for the end. "Slowly, yes, yes..slow...ly, oh, yes. I'll tell you when to cum. Then you...clean..me up. I'll, I'll...oh God...I'll tell you...when, oh, jeez..." Donna listened and obeyed, lost in subspace, waiting for his trigger to be pulled. Within seconds, Tess cried out for God and also screamed out, "Cum, oh God, Donna cum...oh, fuck!" Her screams became wordless as she bucked up and down on his penis. It intensified when she felt the high pressure spurt of semen inside her, and everything became more slippery. Within seconds, the revulsion of having something foreign inside her reared its head. She detested that, but sometimes craved it at the same time, a lesbian's paradox. She squeezed her muscles shut and left the now useless penis behind and sat on Donna's face. She felt his mouth open and his tongue extend. She coughed and expelled as much as she could while he licked and sucked her clean. She looked down at Donna in triumph. He looked up at her in submissive awe. Only now she saw a man in drag and he suddenly realized he was a man in drag. Poof! The bubble of fantasy had burst. Now she hugged him, but with no fantasies cluttering the scene. Their costumes of fetish and fantasy became irrelevant. It was pure and clean, mind to mind communication. She pulled his head to her breast and let him suckle while the others looked on in sacred silence, some turning away in honor of their private intimacy. No one said a word, as exhaustion had consumed them all. Respectfully, they undid Donna's bondage, pulled him up and redid his makeup so that he was passable once again. He slowly came around, still stunned and in passive mode, but aware. Tess held his face in her hands and said, "Ok, we're done with you sweetie. I'm going to take you home. You won't remember much of this tomorrow, but remember this please: I love you. And your name is Donna." Donna awoke in his bed the next day and sat up, his head exploding with ache. He was undressed except for his corset which was still locked on and his bra which was still filled with the heavy silicone breast inserts. His long flowing hair that had been attached with surgical glue to his shaved head seemed to be a very real part of him as he sat up, brushing it from his face. Stumbling into the bathroom to pee, he instinctively sat down on the toilet with his pounding head in his hands. When he was done he stood up and observed himself in the mirror, periodically closing his eyes in pain. Out loud he said, "What the fuck are you doing? Jesus!" He felt behind him and clutched the lock at the top of the corset where the sealed flap contained the laces and pulled. Nothing. Opening the makeup drawer, he saw the scissors and put them in his hand, holding them like a man with a gun contemplating suicide. He brought the blades toward the base of the corset, but stopped. He couldn't do it. The hug of the corset was too much. It wasn't the toughness of the fabric; it was the weakness of his heart, so the corset held him like the addiction that it was. As he stared at himself, a grim look came across his face, his lips straightening like a ruler. Now he had to look like a woman to make it all right. After all, a man in a corset was ridiculous, a parody of humanity. Like there was no other choice, he washed his face, shaved, and reapplied all his makeup, taking extreme care to create perfection. When he was done, a warmth swaddled him like a blanket and suddenly decisions came to him. He knew which skirt and blouse he wanted to wear today. And he knew which high heels would match. His mind started to race as, in comparison to a man, women's choices for clothing were only confined by imagination. He felt like a blank canvas to be painted. And so it began again. It always did.