Bosom Bondage Buddies

by Brandy Dewinter

  

Chapter 10 - Ladies Night Out

  

The next morning was a Friday. As we dressed to go to the club for our workout. Kelly pulled her thong leotard on over her tights then reached for her fanny pack instead of first putting on a tee-shirt. She grinned at me in acknowledgment of the correctness of my previous prediction.

"One of these days," she vowed, "we'll get you out from under your tee-shirt as well."

"I don't think so," I disagreed in disappointment. "The exercise and lost weight have done a good job on my love handles but I'm always going to need a corset to get a good feminine shape."

"I guess you're right," she agreed. "We'll just have to get you plenty of corsets, then."

I smiled in agreement but couldn't help feeling a little jealous of Kelly's spectacular figure. Her weight loss had all been in unnecessary areas and while she could stand to lose a little more off her tummy, her magnificent bustline made most other places irrelevant.

"You know," she mused, "you still need an incentive for the next ten pounds."

"I haven't even gotten all of my outfits for the last incentive, yet," I grinned.

"I know," she said, "but you need to get a start on the next one as well. I have to admit your choices for my incentives have been outstanding. . ."

"Especially the last one," I interrupted with my own version of the amused smile.

"Yes," she admitted with a quick blush, then continued, "but that just means I have to find one as good for you."

"I can hardly wait . . . or is that weight as in pounds?" I laughed.

Kelly smiled at my weak pun, but maintained her thoughtful expression as we headed for the club and all through our exercises. I waved as I left, finishing before her as usual, and she waved back in a distracted fashion.

That evening as I pulled into the drive, Billie Jo came walking over with a package in her hands. It was interesting to see how our relationship had changed since I had become aware of the depth of her interest in Kelly. Now I was confident and she was embarrassed.

"Hello, Billie Jo, have you got something for us?"

"Yes, another package came for you."

Deciding this was the best time to broach the subject of Kelly's third incentive, I casually commented, "I couldn't help noticing your interest yesterday, in Kelly's . . . clothes."

She nodded silently, but her cheeks heated with a rush of blood.

"Kelly has often mentioned how impressed she is with your commitment to physical fitness," I continued. "She respects that greatly."

Again, Billie Jo could only nod, not entirely sure where I was heading.

"Did Kelly ever tell you how she earned that new outfit you were admiring?" I asked.

"No," she finally said, curiosity at the purpose of my conversation beginning to overcome her embarrassment.

"For the last few months we've been on a weight loss program," I explained.

"I could tell. The results have been pretty impressive," Billie Jo interjected.

"We decided our best success would come if we had near-term incentives based on incremental savings. That dress was Kelly's reward for losing a second ten pounds and keeping it off."

A light began to dawn in Billie Jo's eyes as she remembered the changes she had noticed in my own attire during our evening walks.

"A second ten pounds, you said?" Billie Jo invited me to explain further.

"Right, for the first ten pounds, she got some lingerie . . ," I paused for effect, " and a set of handcuffs."

Billie Jo gasped as her blush returned, but I could see her nipples pop up through her blouse.

Continuing on before she had a chance to comment, I said, "and we've already decided on her incentive for her third ten pound increment."

Her curiosity won over her renewed embarrassment and Billie Jo asked, "What's that?"

"You," I replied with a grin.

"What?" she blurted, but her nipples popped up so hard I knew they must hurt, and her breath froze in her throat.

"You heard me," I confirmed. "When Kelly loses another ten pounds, we want you to come over for an evening of intimate entertainment."

"With you, also," she breathed, confusion rampant on her face.

"If you want," I offered. "I'll be there, but no one will do anything they don't enjoy. You might be surprised, though, at what we enjoy, especially Kelly. Think it over."

This invitation to let her imagination run wild had the desired effect. After an instant's dreamy look confirmed a ready fantasy, Billie Jo blushed hotter than ever and dropped her eyes. She seemed to have overcome the need to breathe, her heart locked in her throat. Nodding abruptly, she turned and fled back to her own house. I wondered if her nod meant acceptance of the invitation or only that she would think it over. When Kelly arrived I decided not to tell her about my conversation with Billie Jo, at least, not yet. Kelly had a package under her own arm, which she offered to me as I gave her the one I had gotten from Billie Jo.

In my package were two more corsets. Both were identical in style to my midnight blue one, but the first was the deep red of my nightgown, while the other was in a pure, virginal white. Holding them up against my body, I realized they would be even tighter than my first one, if fully pulled snug. I was so distracted by my intimate finery that I didn't notice the contents of the package that Kelly had opened. When I finally looked up to once again see Kelly's smug smirk, I saw in Kelly's package a lacy blouse and a short denim skirt. Instead of my usual midnight blue, the blouse was in the deep red color she had decided set off "my" hair so well. In the package were also thin-strapped sandals, matching the blouse in color, but matching my satin pumps in the height of the heel.

Hurrying into the bedroom, I stripped off my outer clothes and Kelly began my amazing transformation. She laced me into the red corset with no relaxation of her commitment to squeeze me tighter each time. Deciding that suntan stockings were more appropriate with denim, she handed me a pair. Once I was securely laced in and had my stockings fastened to the garters, Kelly handed me the micro-miniskirt and the nearly see-through blouse. It was only as she was buttoning the blouse that I realized it did not have a high collar.

"What about my Adam's Apple?" I asked.

"Got it covered," she punned as she held out a wide choker neck band in red velvet.

I reached for the choker but Kelly drew it back. "Not until after we do your makeup," she insisted.

This time, in applying cosmetics to my face, Kelly explained every step. She would do one side and have me do the other. Only when she was sure that I understood what needed to be done would she move on to the next color or item. Her patience was rewarded by my success in matching her creative style, though she had to explain some of the elegant subtleties in careful detail. When we were finally done, she handed me the choker and brought out the lustrous waves of the wig. Again she explained every step in adjusting the fit, and in pulling the flippant bangs into the correct position. After this intense training session I was confident I could reproduce the miracle of my transformation . . . as long as I could remember everything that is.

I bent to wrap the sandal straps around my ankles, and was brought up short by the stiff corset.

"Kelly," I complained, "I can't do this."

"Well," she grinned as she bent to complete the task, "I guess I don't have to worry about you taking your shoes off when I'm not around."

"That's it!" she exclaimed with a burst of giggles. "I know your third incentive."

"What?" I asked in confusion.

"When you get your third ten pounds off, you're going to take a vacation from your office."

"Huh?" I glibly returned.

"You're going to take a vacation. For that time you will be pure Brandy, total immersion. We will take a vacation someplace where no one knows you and you will be totally female to anyone we meet. We won't always be together, either. Part of the time, you'll be Brandy alone."

The idea fascinated me as a snake fascinates a bird. I knew it was dangerous, but I couldn't turn away from the idea. Discovery was always a threat, but with Kelly to keep me out of trouble I had accepted the idea that I could handle it. Removing that safety blanket was a dramatic step. The blood pounded in my erection even before the blush lit my face and it was clear I was hooked. Then the practical difficulties raised their ugly heads.

"I can't even put on my corset by myself," I worried, "and I don't have any ID or driver's license."

"You let me worry about that," she reminded me of my words to her. "You just worry about losing the weight."

She finished fastening my sandals, and I stood to look in the mirror. Brandy was back in all her undeniable beauty. No one could doubt that this gorgeous creature was a woman, sensual, mysterious in some undefinable way, utterly desirable.

"Wow," I gushed, "another success. You're a genius!"

Smiling in agreement, Kelly pulled out another pair of tight silk gloves, in red this time, and handed them to me along with earrings and other jewelry.

"You finish putting these on while I change," she directed.

Kelly had her own denim mini and high-heeled sandals, though once again not as high as the ones she had inflicted on me. She chose a soft silk blouse rather than matching the lace I wore. Handing me her ice-blue corset, she turned for me to wrap it around her and lace her in. Revenge is sweet, I thought as I got back at her for the tightness of my own constraining garment. Chest heaving for breath, Kelly grinned as she acknowledged my success and quickly finished dressing. She needed help with her own sandals which I could provide since she could raise her feet into my reach.

"We're going to have to put our shoes on before we complete lacing our corsets, if we don't wear slip-on shoes," she observed.

"What are you complaining about?" I teased her. "This is twice in a row you've gotten off with lower heels than me."

"Oh," she grinned, "but you have a much better swing to your hips. You can wear them so much better than I can."

I pretended to try and catch her to slap her for her impudence, but she knew she was much more nimble in her heels than I was in mine, so she danced away out of reach. Then she came back into my arms and we hugged, which was not nearly as much fun as normal since the corsets armored our waists and we didn't dare smear our makeup. Laughing and giggling at all the implications of my cross-dressing we strolled out of the house.

"Where are we going, anyway?" I asked.

"I figured we'd go back to the mall," she replied, "and then get some dinner."

"I have to try something," I decided, motioning Kelly to wait.

Stepping carefully to keep my heels from disappearing into the grass, I crossed from our driveway to Billie Jo's, and then approached her door. Ringing the bell, I held what little breath the corset let me have in anticipation of Brandy meeting someone who also knew Ran.

Billie Jo came to the door and asked normally, "Can I help you?" before she really took a good look at the woman before her. A quizzical expression clouded her features as she began to wonder who I was. The transformation had been so effective that even though she already suspected what had happened to Ran, she could not believe who she thought I might be.

"Hello," I softly sang in Brandy's musical contralto. "I'm Brandy Dewinter, Ran's sister. Kelly and I are going shopping and then to dinner. Would you like to come along?"

The sibling relationship I claimed was a credible enough explanation for the similarity between Ran's features and Brandy's that Billie Jo's doubts increased. She looked at Kelly, dressed so beautifully as well, and Billie Jo realized that she would be a poor third in looks with her normal tee-shirt and shorts. Surely, I could almost hear her thinking, this gorgeous woman cannot be Ran! She started to shake her head in refusal.

"Come on, Billie Jo, put on some sexy clothes and come with us."

This comment caused her jaw to drop, and surprise widened her eyes, for I had deliberately delivered it in Ran's normal tenor. Gulping air like a fish out of water, she stared at me in disbelief.

"Please come with us," I entreated in Brandy's soft tones. "I would so like to get to know you better."

I turned and motioned to Kelly to join us, wondering if her close proximity would increase the intensity of Billie Jo's emotions or help to get her back together. Billie Jo continued to stare at me, the message of her eyes contradicting the message her mind was trying to assimilate. When Kelly arrived, she looked at her, made up as beautifully as on the previous night though in a more conventional outfit than the leather dress and handcuffs. She started to refuse again.

"I can't come with you. You're . . both . . so beautiful," explained Billie Jo.

"Kelly's a genius with cosmetics. You wouldn't believe what I looked like before she helped me with my makeup," I whispered as though sharing a deep secret. "She can help you, too, if you want."

"I've never really gone in for that sort of thing," Billie Jo tried to deny her interest.

"No time like the present to start," I insisted.

I caught Kelly's eyes with mine and in the near-telepathy of those who share their lives completely, I let her know my intentions. We gently but firmly pulled Billie Jo from her doorway and took her to our house. Leading her into the bedroom, Kelly sat her down at the vanity table, and I went into the closet to find Billie Jo some clothes.

"What size shoes to do you wear?" I called out.

"6," Billie Jo replied with confusion. She was beginning to understand what we had in mind but was not sure how far we intended to go.

I wasn't sure what clothes to choose without my native guide. Kelly's sense of style and color had demonstrated genius and I knew I was not as capable. However, I didn't want to lose the momentum we were building in Billie Jo's transformation and Kelly couldn't be in two places at once. Finally, I decided to get the same outfit Kelly had worn for Brandy's first outing. Finding the black leather mini-skirt and black lace blouse, I looked around for the spike-heeled boots. They were a size 6 ½, so they would fit if we found some heavy socks to pad Billie Jo's feet a little. That reminded me about underwear. Billie Jo didn't really need a corset but she did need appropriately erotic lingerie. I found the garter belt Kelly had given me and a clean pair of dark, seamed stockings.

When I returned to the bedroom I could see that Kelly was well on her way to another miracle. Billie Jo's lean face was sharply angular, too strong to be very feminine, though the clean lines and high cheekbones offered a potential to build on. Kelly had softened the planes of Billie Jo's face rather than emphasizing them as she did in her own makeup. The result changed Billie Jo from lean strength to refined elegance. Since it was easier to work that way, Kelly had turned Billie Jo away from the mirror. As she finished she let Billie Jo turn and look. Her hands flew to her transformed face, prompting a laugh from both Kelly and I.

"When she first worked her magic on me," I explained, "she had my hands bound behind the chair so I couldn't touch anything and screw it up."

The mention of bondage resurrected the hard points of Billie Jo's nipples through her shirt. I knew that her interest in that aspect of a potential relationship with us would probably be the deciding factor in her eventual acceptance of our invitation to intimacy. She realized that her reaction was showing, and then noticed the clothes I held. Her pleasure at the beauty she saw reflected in the mirror gave her the last push she needed to embrace the idea of going along with us, and she stood up with clear resolve. Stripping off her shirt without embarrassment, she reached for the black lace blouse.

Kelly waved me back and said, "Wait a minute, Billie Jo, we need to start with your underwear."

I had been so fascinated by the change in Billie Jo that I had not been paying adequate attention to Kelly. Her face was flushed, her breathing was ragged, and I would have bet her nipples were as hard within her corset cups as Billie Jo's exposed ones were. She was clearly excited by the close proximity to a half-naked, beautiful woman in a situation of sensuality not found in a girl's locker room. Pointing at the sexless exercise shorts that hung on Billie Jo's narrow hips, Kelly motioned her to remove them. Under the shorts Billie Jo had on plain white cotton panties.

"Those just won't do," Kelly declared. "Hmm, your hips are too small for most of my underwear. Let me see, I may have something, though."

Rummaging around in her drawers, Kelly extracted a barely-there, sheer g-string with thin elastic that provided enough flexibility to make it one size fits all. She smiled and handed it to Billie Jo, who looked at it with fascination but did not immediately reach for it.

"Come on, Billie Jo, you deserve it," I urged.

I seemed to have hit on a magic word, for once Billie Jo began to believe that she actually deserved to be pretty and sensuous, she began to open up with more energy. Of course, I had always believed it was impossible to spend time within range of Kelly's effervescence without being lifted up so perhaps my choice of words was not such a major driver. Whatever the reason, as Billie Jo reached for the negligible g-string she began to grin and giggle along with Kelly and I. She stripped out of her cotton panties without self-consciousness and I wondered if she had forgotten that there was a male in the room. I wasn't about to remind her. Though Kelly, with her flamboyant bust fit my image of optimal female beauty much better than Billie Jo's leanness, I was very much aware of the now-naked woman placing a sexy g-string around her waist. I turned away to hide my reaction, as much from Kelly as from Billie Jo. The tight thong I wore kept my package hidden unless I was really aroused and a few seconds of thinking about other things let me regain my control. By the time I turned back, Billie Jo had donned the garter belt and was fastening the garters to the seamed stockings. Deciding a bra was unnecessary with Billie Jo's leaner figure, Kelly let her have the skirt and blouse and I handed her some thick footlets I had found in Kelly's sock drawer. In a few minutes, Billie Jo was standing in Kelly's black high-heeled boots and her transformation was almost complete.

"Back to your house for some better earrings and jewelry, then we go out," Kelly announced.

Billie Jo had clearly not walked in high heels much and I was about to give her some advice when Kelly waved me to silence. In a few more steps I saw what she had anticipated. Billie Jo's naturally athletic poise had soon given her a gliding grace. She did not need to swing her hips as dramatically as I did, though a gentle rhythm was clearly apparent. Instead, Billie Jo gracefully flowed from one foot to the other with an elegance more in keeping with her lean face and figure.

"You know, if she let her hair grow out she'd be a knockout," I whispered to Kelly. "Different from you, but really attractive in her own way."

Kelly's response was an embarrassed flush, showing that she was not immune to the attractiveness of our transformed neighbor. My objective assessment of Billie Jo's new looks had a very subjective counterpart in Kelly's building desire.

We left our house and went next door. In a few minutes Billie Jo had changed her simple posts for glittering golden loops, shining dramatically in contrast with her dark hair and clothes. As we left her house again, we looked at our choices for transportation. My pick-up was clearly out of the picture and climbing in and out of the back of Kelly's Camaro was something I didn't want to try in such dangerously short skirts. The obvious choice was Billie Jo's car, a four-door Taurus. We got into the car, carefully placing our heels together, sitting down, and then swinging our legs inside with an almost choreographed sequence which launched new fits of giggling from all of us.

"Where are we going?" asked Billie Jo.

"It's too late for shopping," Kelly mused. "Let's just go get dinner."

Without further discussion Billie Jo drove to a restaurant Kelly and I had never tried before. She parked in the closest space she could find and we extracted ourselves from the car. I was gaining in confidence, but moving into such a public place still made me nervous. I fidgeted with my skirt and my hair and found the others moving off without me. Not wanting to become obvious by calling out, I hurried after them and almost stumbled on my tall heels. I forced myself to get a grip on my skills and concentrated on the swinging gait I had learned. By this time we were near the door and my exaggerated sway contrasted with the smooth glide of Billie Jo and the reduced motion allowed by Kelly's lower heels to make my entrance seem deliberately provocative. The other two watched my final approach. Billie Jo's eyes widened again in surprise at the blatant sexuality and Kelly giggled at both my motion and at Billie Jo's surprise.

"She's shameless," Kelly whispered to Billie Jo. "We ought to follow along behind her handing out Kleenex to all the poor fools drooling over that hot woman! Or maybe ice water to cool off some of these studs."

The silver tones of her laugh carried through the entryway. I had been doing pretty well tonight in maintaining a cool, calm facade, but when I became the focus of their laughter my always-close blush resurrected itself. I glance around to see if others were watching and it seemed that every eye in the place was on us. This fanned the flames in my cheeks and I hissed at Kelly to be quiet, which only increased their mirth. By now, Billie Jo was thoroughly enjoying herself, fully into the game of treating me as a woman, though always aware of our shared secret. The amused light shining from her eyes lit up her elegant face into a more potent beauty than I had ever seen in her. In a moment the attractiveness of our threesome was demonstrated literally, as men began to converge like iron to a set of shapely magnets.

It was interesting to see the types of men gravitating toward us. Billie Jo, with her restrained elegance, was the immediate focus of an overpoweringly sensual stud, draped with gold chains that showed against his furry chest through his unbuttoned shirt. It seemed he relished the challenge of thawing what he thought was an ice maiden. Kelly's angelic smile drew a correspondingly nice looking man. He had a matching grin and approached with cheerful exuberance. I reflected on how lucky I was to have found and captured her since this man was taller (as most men were), more fit, and more personable than I felt myself to be. Kelly could have had him at any time with little more than a smile. In fact, a small frown of jealousy must have shown on my face for Kelly looked at me with another telepathic message of reassurance. I then found myself the target of a dark, heavily-built man. He smoldered with deep wells of masculinity, silently shouting his power and his control. I saw in him an exaggeration of the master personality I wore when I bound Kelly to my will. There was no trace of the angel in him, nor in me.

His approach was derailed when Kelly grabbed my hand, and Billie Jo's and pulled us both with her to the powder room. Billie Jo looked at the sign on the door with arched brow and then at me, but Kelly sailed on through. I followed, though not without refreshing the heat in my cheeks and the amused light sparkled from Billie Jo's eyes. Inside, Kelly motioned me to the counter, indicating that I was to take care of any cosmetic repairs myself. I quickly assessed the minor damages, mostly a diminished lipstick shine, and proceeded to set things right. Now a measure of respect was added to the amusement in Billie Jo's expression as she realized that I had learned feminine skills even she did not possess. Billie Jo glanced in the mirror and was about to turn away when Kelly stopped her and made her replenish her makeup to the uncompromising excellence Kelly demanded in her creations. Properly chastened, Billie Jo began to comply.

"Did you see that stud that was after Brandy?" Kelly chortled.

"That man was not going to take no for an answer."

Billie Jo stammered and added her own blush to the one flaming my cheeks.

"I think she was too occupied with her own conquest to pay attention to anyone else," I teased.

The heightened color in her cheeks confirmed my insight. Kelly's tinkling mirth prodded at us both. Through the mirror, I met Billie Jo's eyes, and we smiled at each other in acceptance of Kelly's jibes. This wordless pact moved us into a warm sisterhood I had never shared before. My emotional ties with Kelly were rich and fulfilling, but she was too cheerful and open for the sort of quiet depth I suddenly felt with Billie Jo. In Billie Jo's expression I saw a change in her attitude toward me. Previously, my cross-dressing adventure was a joke we shared. Now, she respected and honored this facet of my personality and from that point I truly became Brandy to her.

Tossing my long hair into position, I made one last check and declared myself ready to face the world. Billie Jo smiled and nodded concurrence and Kelly proudly led her creations back into the entryway of the restaurant. Before the stud patrol could again converge, our table was called and we sauntered to our seats. Kelly and I ordered our usual salads and Billie Jo was about to do the same when we stopped her.

"Listen, you beautiful woman, you need to add a little shape to maximize your potential. Eat something with some delicious fat and lots of protein," Kelly demanded.

"Please do, we're so proud of you, but you could do with a few more curves," I confirmed.

She agreed to compromise with a small steak and baked potato, loaded with creamy butter. We jealously agreed with her selection, resigning ourselves to perpetual constraints. As we waited for our dinners Kelly engaged Billie Jo in a conversation clearly designed for its effect on me.

"Did Brandy tell you about the hunk who was chasing her the last time we were out?" Kelly opened.

"No, tell me!" Billie Jo returned, pretending not to notice my embarrassed hiss at Kelly.

I ducked my head in an attempt to find some sort of oblivion, but the liquid waves of my hair flowed down over my gloved hands in a proclamation of sensuality.

"See?" Kelly chortled. "She does it all the time. She uses that hair and her hips to get men's attention constantly. Then she'll put on some helpless act and get guys to hold a door for her, or help her to stand. Like I told you, she's shameless."

I felt my burning cheeks would set my long wavy tresses on fire at any moment, but Kelly continued relentlessly.

"The last time we were out I went to the bathroom and when I returned this incredible hunk was sitting with her. She was flirting madly and he was hooked like a trout. That stud would have had her right there on the barstool if I hadn't come back."

"Ooh, tell me more, what happened next?" cooed Billie Jo.

"Her stud bought us dinner. Of course, I was just window dressing. He probably only noticed I was there when he realized there were three meals on the check."

By this time Billie Jo was rocking with mirth, trying to contain her helpless laughter. Tears were filling her eyes and I was sure she only kept them in check because of the damage they would do to her makeup. I looked daggers at Kelly, who preened invincibly, knowing there was just enough truth in her tall tale to make denial too complicated to be practical. Then she dropped the bomb she had obviously been leading up to.

"By the way, Brandy, did I tell you he called the other day?"

"No! He didn't either! When?" I gasped, not sure whether to want her to be telling the truth or lying outrageously.

"Yep," she smirked. "It was a couple of nights ago. He was barely able to contain his disappointment at not finding you home. Apparently, he was going out of town for a few weeks and wouldn't be able to get back with you. He wanted to be sure you knew it wasn't due to lack of interest."

My head had come up at her incredible tale, sending additional waves flowing through my lustrous mane. This prompted Kelly to poke Billie Jo in the ribs and point, first at me, then at the interested glances of an obviously married man at the next table. Billie Jo was reduced to shaking quivers as she tried to hold in her laughter.

All through our dinner Kelly embellished on her tale of Dart Tanyon and the parking valet. I countered with a description of the crowd of rescuers Kelly had attracted in her tight leather mini-dress and high boots. Together, we sounded like a pair guilty of inciting to riot and if it wasn't entirely true, there was still enough validity to it to make us blush or giggle as we alternated our stories. Somewhere in the rendition the flames of embarrassment burned away and I started being proud of my effect on men. I resolved never to make a promise I obviously couldn't keep, but I also resolved to have fun. If a thing is worth doing, I rationalized, it is worth doing well.

I had invited Billie Jo along on a lark, mostly to see what effect Brandy would have on someone who knew Ran. By the time we finished our meals we had formed a friendship with her that would endure long beyond an evening's fun. We were still giggling and teasing as we walked to the car. My towering heels forced me to the shortest stride and Kelly drifted slowly ahead. Billie Jo held up to wait for me and as I reached her she whispered, "Let me know when Kelly reaches her next ten pound goal." The warmth of her smile made it clear she expected me to be an active participant in that evening's promised entertainment as well.

  

  

  

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