BE FOREWARNED. The following story contains sexually explicit material not suited for those who have not yet achieved the age of maturity. If you should fall into this category, do not read further. Consult the laws of your community to clarify if you are eligible to read adult sexual material. The theme is transsexual. If this type of reading matter offends you, read no further. Go do something else. Standard disclaimer applies. Any association with real people, places, events, or entities is purely coincidental.

 

Quality Garment Testing

by Virginia Kane
© 2002, All rights reserved

 

Chapter One.

 

During my first year away from home to attend college, my new roommate got us both neat part-time jobs. I needed to supplement my meager spending allowance without cutting too deeply into my study time. This job was perfect in that respect.

All I had to do was field test clothes and stuff, but some items I was supposed to test as the job progressed weren’t intended for guys to wear. That development led to some interesting situations I’ll soon explain. (Patience, dear reader.)

My dad was a good provider, but he was living in the dark ages when it came to how costly college freshman essentials are. Asking him for more cash was like applying for a mortgage. He expected clear details for every last dime. To be honest, he was fair, because he had lots of expenses that took priority over my extracurricular activities, but dad didn’t put the kibosh on my working part-time.

The keenest feature of the job was that we didn’t have to work hard. We tested a wide range of consumer products for a campus based independent laboratory to determine how much abuse they could tolerate. Mel, my roommate, had an older brother in graduate school that preceded us. His graduate school class load was too intense to permit even a no-brainer job, so Mel inherited it; then referred me.

The lab had full-time Quality Control staff to establish the necessary parameters, but wisely pinched dollars by also using college students who are more likely to break things accidentally than QC people would do intentionally. The underlying philosophy was sound: to field test the questionable new products under careless roustabout conditions, in addition to designing simulated lab tests that might miss an unpredictable factor of use found in the field.

One additional benefit was that Mel and I were testing a lot of casual clothes, so we cut our personal dry cleaning and clothing replacement costs to zip. The dorm provided us with laundry service at a reasonable flat fee per term, so we used it for regularly laundering products we were testing, further assimilating true field conditions. We kept detailed records on the products tested, listing any unusual things we noticed and handed our reports in weekly like time sheets.

After a month on the job, we noticed that there weren’t any girls at work. When I asked our QC coordinator why, he said they weren’t reliable. They were willing to take products the lab provided free, but didn’t diligently fill in the reports, or all to often would fake them. He wasn’t being critical, but said many girls only went to college to find guys that were likely to be highly successful in life after they’d graduate, inferring the ones who made more money were better husbands.

I didn’t agree with his gross generalization, but knew there was a grain of truth in it, because some girls in my classes were after guys who had the money to take them out to fancier joints, and not the student union cafeteria where we paupers ate, to have enough money available to pitch in for a kegger party now and then. The weekend beer blasts were awesome and girls were always welcome to join the festivities. Bucking three to one odds, cute girlfriends were premium luxuries. What the heck! Every guy needs to have some diversions from the grind. Right?

Speaking of girls, Mel and I didn’t do so well with the ladies. The ones we met in our classes were dating upperclassmen. We both had girlfriends back home, but with a hundred miles or so between them and us, it wasn’t often we got to spend time with them. Most guys from our dorm building were barking up the same tree, but no pussycats were falling out into our laps. Oh well.

The boss asked me to come into his office one Friday to ask me why I wanted to know why he didn’t hire any college girls for product testing. I told him I was just curious, because I wished some girls were around to strike up a conversation with, to see what things we shared in common besides testing new materials the garment manufacturers used to make their clothes look, wear and feel better. My answer startled him. He must have misunderstood me for some reason, because his face lit up like a Christmas tree when he heard my candid reply.

"Say! That’s an intelligent observation, but why are you so concerned with how a garment looks and feels? All you are supposed to do is punish the clothing we’ve supplied you, and let us know how you think they compare to similar things that you’ve worn in the past. I’d be willing to increase your rate of pay considerably if you’re willing to test garments for comparative durability, looks and feel. I’d like to renew a contract I lost this fall, but knew that I’d lose, because getting the proper feedback isn’t easy. Girls are hopelessly elusive, and guys are too squeamish to be of any help." He stopped and looked at me sort of funny. "Did your roommate, tell you about his older brother? If he did, he could help you to test the garments under undue stress, if you know what I mean. I’ll raise his rate of pay, too."

"He did. Let me ask him if he’s interested. I could sure use a pay raise. How much did you mean by considerably? If I know Mel, he may not want to bother."

"I’ll pay fifty percent extra, but don’t think you can squeeze me for any more."

"No, I won’t. I just need to know how much to tell Mel. Thanks."

"Ask him right away, and then get back to me on Monday. If you’d like, we could arrange for a company tailor to make sure the new product line fits you properly. I’ll have the manufacturer send one out here to my shop, so I can supervise the fittings personally. I don’t want to rely on the QC engineers. Some of them don’t appreciate this client’s goods. They think that durability is the principle factor to evaluate. That may be true in most cases, but good looks and feel are equally important to the particular client I’d love to add back to my receivable ledger."

++++

I blew my paycheck on dinner and drinks that night. I got so loaded that I forgot to ask Mel about working closer with me, helping me to test a new line. We went out for dinner and drinks Saturday on night, and I popped again for Mel’s share, Thinking a substantial raise was in the wind for both of us, I wanted to butter him up, so he’d go along, and thank me later for his share in the potential windfall.

I explained the offer before getting too drunk. "What do you think, Mel?"

"I dunno. When we first met, you looked like you might be the type that would be interested, but I decided to wait and see, in case you would be offended. I guess I didn’t figure you wrong back then. Sure! Why not? What do we have to lose?"

"Nothing I can think of. I’ll let the boss know Monday."

I went to our boss on Monday, and told him I’d test the new line, for the incentive pay he offered. He said to come in after school on Wednesday for my fitting and to bring all the files on clothes I was already testing up to date to see if I could test the new line at the same time. That was odd. We got test clothes in batches and were supposed to wear them exclusively, alternating the sets in order. We’d have to skip a set or lengthen the rotation schedule to add more clothes to it.

Tuesday morning, Mel asked me if I’d sign up for bicycle riding with him instead of attending the basic PE class we took. He said we’d limber up our leg muscles better. As freshmen, we weren’t permitted to have cars on campus. He thought bike riding was more of an essential than a gym class. We’d be able to wear our street clothes instead of gym clothes if we wanted. We’d avoid using the public showers in the gym building afterwards, too. I didn’t realize that he already knew the kind of new clothes I’d be testing. Because I was dense, I didn’t catch on.

That changed late Wednesday afternoon. I used up all my spending allowance on Tuesday to get my new cycling helmet, gloves, hip huggers and t-shirt, which were required gear for campus cycling or the current rage. My forthcoming raise was going to be a necessity, with the unanticipated expenses I incurred. I was down to my last ten bucks, and already borrowed fifty from Mel until next payday.

Arriving at the lab on our bikes after class, Mel and I went straight to the boss’s office. A man from his client was waiting to measure me for the new clothes. The boss sat back and watched as the guy pranced around me, taking down figures.

As Mel and the boss looked on they started to talk about Mel’s older brother, who the man from the client must have known well, because he asked Mel how his brother was doing. Mel told the guy his bother missed his job, but couldn’t afford to wash out of grad school, and had to keep his head buried in books all the time.

"It’s a shame you aren’t short and slim, like your roommate, Mel. My company is introducing a new line of garments that will need lots of testing. We’re using new fabrics that will require less labor and will look sleeker, because all the seams will be glued together instead of sewn. The new look is very astonishing. Less lace is needed to hide hems and other machine stitching. A new machine works just like a sewing machine needle, but uses hot glue instead of thread. Binder feet guide the cloth’s raw edges through the glue applicators into a flat, compressed, nearly transparent hem resulting in a smoother looking garment with blind seams. "

"What kind of garments are they" Are they made for men to wear?" I asked.

"Why no, ladies’ foundations, of course. Men don’t normally wear such garments, except to test them, like you will be doing."

"Whoa! Mr. Walworth! You never mentioned I’d be testing women’s clothes."

"They’re not clothes, young man. They’re garments," said the fitting expert. "What made you think our garments are designed for men? I understood that you were made aware of the requirements we requested, like the last tester: Mel’s brother. We want to test out our new line vigorously. By the way, your measurements are ideal for the task, as were your predecessor’s. Why didn’t you mention that he was to test women’s undergarments sooner, Mel, Mr. Walworth?"

They both started to talk at the same time, claiming they thought I knew.

"For your information, young man. We don’t refer to any outerwear as ‘garments’ in the trade. The term is used universally for the ladies’ underwear that provides excellent support in relative comfort. The new line that we’ll introduce next year should give them all the support they need and want, with far more comfort than traditional stayed corsets. We have high hopes for the technology employed."

"I – I –" I was in shock. "T-- then w – why do people call it a ‘Garment Industry’"?

"Oh, I see." He chuckled. "You’re over-reacting, dear fellow. I have a garment on underneath this shirt and pants. Can you detect that I’m wearing it? No. I didn’t think so. That’s because of the brand new technology we use. The garment that you will test is virtually seamless, so the edges can’t be detected easily. No one will know you have it on, unless you’re in a habit of disrobing in public. I hope I haven’t wasted my time coming all the way out here to measure you properly."

"I can’t wear underwear made for women. What would people say?"

Mr. Walworth butted in. "They won’t say anything, because they won’t know. Are you trying to muscle me for more money, Dean? If you are, I’m afraid I won’t be able to employ you any longer. I’m sorry that you weren’t aware of the reason for my additional pay offer, but I assumed that you knew what a garment was. Mel’s brother didn’t have any problem field-testing things made for women, and they were more obvious to the naked eye when being worn than yours will be."

"Is that right, Mel? Did your brother wear-test women’s garments?"

"Yeah. Didn’t I mention that to you before? I could swear that I did."

"Yes, but you said he wore garments. I thought you meant men’s garments."

"What’s the difference? I didn’t think you were going to act like such a baby about something no one will ever know about. Why did you think that Mr. Walworth was willing to up our pay rate by fifty percent?"

"For the extra reporting I’d have to do."

"Partly, but if you were testing more outer wear for men, there’d be no increase in effort. You can only wear so many outfits per week. The hefty pay increase is for testing the additional undergarments. Even I could figure that out, you dodo. Your apparent greed must have blinded you. Listen. Seeing as how the tailor came out here already, and the stuff won’t be seen by anyone else, give it a shot. Who’s to criticize you for it, besides me, unless you want to talk to my brother first? He can tell you how easy or hard it was to test, or what you can to do to avoid detection."

"I’m not interested, Mel. I got kidded enough back in high school. I still don’t need to shave every day, and my long blonde hair gets me mistaken for a girl from the back, too often, when I’m standing in a checkout line. I don’t need any additional reasons to be tagged as a faggot. I’m only interested in women, exclusively."

The man from the manufacturer spoke up. "Turn around, son." I did. " I see what you mean. I have an idea that could earn you a fast five hundred dollars extra."

"Who do I have to kill?"

"Believe it or not, I think I could easily disguise you sufficiently to pose for a set of body photos that we’ll need in conjunction with displaying the new product line in stores. The lean look is in, so your neat, flat chest is ideal. Your head and legs would be deleted from the pictures, only your torso would be seen by the public."

"Five hundred? What if I still don’t agree to test the garments?"

"No deal. I merely suggested the photo shoot to entice you to do the testing for us. You have perfect measurements for it. I’ll even let Mr. Walworth raise his fees to my company, to offer you an additional twenty-five percent raise in your hourly rate of pay, after you agree to do the photo shoot, as well. I’ll use my own digital camera. Only the four of us will ever have to know who posed for the photos."

"In advance?"

"No, I don’t have that much cash on me, but I can advance you a hundred now, and bring you a check for the balance when you feel you’re ready to proceed."

"How many photos will you need to take of me?"

"I’ll take hundreds of shots in rapid succession, but I’ll only need a dozen different poses, with legs and arms set in different positions to select a presentation of the garment’s lines that will catch a woman’s eye. If we need to, we can air brush in a woman’s features over yours to enhance the image, if a complete picture --."

"No thanks. I’d rather not let you take any pictures of my face that someone else might see. It’s a touchy point with me, because I’ve been mistaken for being a girl many times before, but my posing as one, is sure to get me into trouble."

"How? No one will know it’s you. You’re a blonde. I’ll use a redheaded wig. Your face will have enough stage makeup on, so your mother couldn’t recognize you."

"Oh. Well -----. You’re sure that no one else will ever know that it’s me?"

"Absolutely."

"Can I think it over?"

He seemed exasperated. "Sure. I’ll give you ten more minutes. You’re being too paranoid, making a big deal over nothing. No one will care if we use pictures of a man instead of a woman. If the thought of wearing a woman’s garment worries you that much, try one on first. I brought some along that are out in the trunk of my car. Then make your decision. There’s nothing to be afraid of. You’ll see.

I’m sure I have one in the right size. You’ll be surprised how a well-made corset will envelope and hide you. We’re after pictures of the garment, not of you. We have no good reason to expose you, so you don’t have to fret over that.

I’m wearing a garment right now. Your roommate’s brother wore them, and I can assure you Mr. Walworth has at some time or another, too. I can’t speak for your roommate: Mel, but I’ll venture to guess that his brother had him try one on, too. The point is: not one of us will make fun of you for trying. Once I’ve prepared you, you can still decline, if you’ll think you’ll be in danger of any public derision."

He left and returned quickly with a small valise and several flat boxes I assumed contained the garments. I was curious to see them. "Go into the bathroom and take off all your clothes. Then, put this on. It’s called a gaff. It’s supposed to be a tight fit, to create the illusion of a woman’s mound instead of a man’s ‘basket’.

As soon as you’re ready, stick out your head out the door and I’ll come in to show you how to put on a garment properly."

I gulped, wanting to delay making up my mind. I needed the money, after blowing all that I had over the weekend and for the cycling paraphernalia. "Could you go in first? I’d like to see how one you’re wearing looks on a guy before I try it. You mentioned that you are wearing one, now." I figured he was lying and would balk.

"Sure, but you’ll notice that I’m not afraid to let your boss and roommate see me." He took off his tie and shirt, and then unbuckled his belt, and dropped his pants right in the room. I was astounded by his nonchalance, because his entire torso was encased in a fine mesh body stocking. (I was not aware of what that meant at the time). The fabric was sewn together with a satin trim around the openings, except those on his arms at mid-bicep. A satin diamond-shaped panel covered his midriff to keep his tummy taught, with a sharp indent at the sides, and a wide flare toward his hips. The paneling gave the illusion that he was wearing a garter belt around his narrowed waist.

"This model has flesh colored inserts sewn into the bottom intended for girls that lack an attractive rump. Its one-piece seamless, tubular, tapered torso, has been woven of special threads that vary in density on a computer guided loom to be of greater strength where strength is needed, yet tapers down to nearly nothing to provide more freedom to the wearer where stresses are minimal.

Go ahead and touch it if you’d like. It fits like a glove and moulds everything into its proper place. Notice how abruptly my waistline flares out toward my hips? The sateen waist inlay is made of an extremely inflexible fabric that aids soft flesh at my waistline to conform to an ideal blossoming curve toward my hip and derriere. Over time, my flesh has retained the imposed shape, so it looks more appealing to the eye, even when I’m not wearing this model garment."

I still stood in awe, because his body looked like a woman’s except for his flatter chest. Besides, his complimentary commentary accentuated the alluring image, as he pointed out each feature. I was never interested in a man’s body before, but this one was an exception. He looked good in it. I shuddered at the thought.

He regained my attention by continuing. "You’ll notice that the groin resembles a woman’s with a definite indent where a vulva would normally be. That’s due to the gaff I’m wearing. It was also woven on the special loom that shapes a man’s soft flesh into appearing more appropriately in the garment. Yours will do the same, once you have it on, so that under close scrutiny, the pictures I’ll take will portray nothing unusual. In fact, if I was standing side by side with a real woman, no one can discern which of us is the authentic female."

"Why go trough all that trouble?"

"If it can persuade my aging flesh, think of how well this garment will embellish a woman’s curves. Even older women, whose bodies have lost their resiliency, can retain a more youthful appearance. Soft tissue eventually conforms to continual restriction and will hold a desired shape indefinitely if properly supported over an extended period of time. We hope this model will rekindle greater interest in body sculpting, as rudimentary Victorian corsets did over a hundred years ago. Once the new figure control concept takes root, few women will resist owning them."

"Will this kind of garment change my body’s shape?"

"It would if you were to wear one for many months on end, like I do. You won’t be wearing one quite this severe. Your first one will test a new zipper I designed that doesn’t protrude, like conventional zippers. Instead of having normal interlocking teeth, my new invention overlays a thin layer of microscopic hooks onto a layer of woven fiberglass. The primary advantage is ease of removal at the end of a long day of work, when a woman wants to relax in a tub full of foaming, scented lather to ease the day’s tensions. That’s why Mel’s assistance will be needed. The new zipper is more difficult to put together, until the entire length is secured. I have a novel idea to first line up the two halves; then, fold the zipped seam over once, to achieve the garment’s correct fit. It will be hardly noticeable, once the garment is properly in place on your body."

"Is that the kind you brought for me to try on?"

"Yes. Go into the bathroom and slip on the gaff. I’ll come in to fit you, as soon as you are ready, unless you don’t mind the others seeing you being corseted."

"I might as well get used to having Mel see me, if he’s to secure the zipper. You’ll have to show him how to do it properly. Won’t you?"

"Yes. I didn’t want to rush you the first time, but would prefer to demonstrate how it’s to be done to Mel right from the start, if you don’t mind. Go put on the gaff. If you need any help, call out, and I’ll be right in to assist you."

I went into the small, office bathroom and took off all my clothes. I looked into the mirror, took a deep breath, and pulled the tiny stretch panty up my legs. It wasn’t exactly easy, but not as difficult as I had imagined, squeezing everything I had in between my legs to the back of the pocket, then pulling up the waistband. Sure enough, I had an obvious indent where a woman’s vaginal lips should be.

I emerged from the bathroom with trepidation, but not a one of them stared at me or made a lewd comment about how I looked. The man wrapped a black corset around me and showed Mel how to engage the zipper. As the man folded it over, I could feel it tighten on my torso. He then pulled my soft flesh up at the top and down at the bottom, so the tightness eased somewhat, but not a whole lot.

"That’s all there is to it. Take a look in the mirror, Dean."

I went to the mirror and saw an immature girl looking back. The corset’s bra cups were empty, but still stood out from my body bearing two tulip-shaped floral prints with scalloped edges (a new term I learned that day). A pair of entwined stems at the base of the tulips swirled downward, appearing to end at my waistline at the sateen panel designed to look like a vase in which the stems were planted.

I took a deep breath and turned from side to side. The empty cups at the bosom stood away from my chest a bit, making me look like a young girl trying to wear her mom’s fancy undies. The bottom of the corset was straight across, so that the bottom of the gaff was visible, with its suggestive indent. "I still look like me."

"I can change that now, if you’d like. Watch." He took a plastic bag from his valise and inserted a half-inch diameter cotton pads about two inches long on each side of his upper gums. His appearance changed dramatically. He applied rouge, a bit of eyeliner and a thick coat of bright red lipstick, while standing beside me, using the mirror to guide his hand as the stage makeup changed his appearance. With a deft move, he bowed to the waist, put on a wig and stood up.

Without any doubt, the woman reflected in the mirror looked nothing like the man who approached it less than two minutes before. If he left the building in a dress, no one could guess he was a man, as he gestured differently and walked up on his tiptoes, as a woman who was wearing high heels would. His totally different reflection smiled at me, as he whispered: "Your turn".

By that time, I was enthralled and you could hear a pin drop while he worked on my face, with my back to the mirror. When he finished, he spun me back around to critique his handiwork. While I stood gawking at the pretty girl, he inserted two gel forms into the bra cups. I was lovely, and my gaff was getting painful on me.

"Have I convinced you yet? Would your own mother know you are hiding behind less than half a gram of cosmetics? Mel, Mr. Walworth? What do you think?"

Mr. Walworth thought that I was absolutely gorgeous, and my roommate thought I was a heavenly dish. I had to agree with both of them, nodding my head. I could still tell that the reflection was still Dean Withers’ though, because of my hair.

The man reached into another box I didn’t notice and brought out an auburn wig, which he placed on my head. I looked nothing like me! I was a totally different person! If I wanted to, I could walk out of the lab building in a sexy dress too and get whistled at by every guy on campus. "Wow!" was all I could think of to say.

We laughed at how easy it was to change me. It took less than fifteen minutes.

"By the way. I’m Carl Carter, but you can call me: Carrie Calder for now." A man twice my age stood next to me and looked like my big sister. No wonder women can look younger than men. "What would you like to be called?"

"I haven’t the vaguest idea. Deanna Wilson, I suppose."

"That won’t do. It’s too close to ‘Dean’. How about Dana or Donna, or Darla?"

"Okay. Darla Wilson, it is. I like the ring of it."

"When would like me to take the promotional pictures, Darla? I suggest you get used to wearing the corset, first. Here’s the first hundred dollars. Let’s not rush it, if you don’t mind. Let the corset adjust to your body. You’ll know when. It will feel better in a few days, and the gaff will, too. If it becomes too uncomfortable, stop by this clinic in town. They’ll prescribe something a little stronger than aspirin to ease your discomfort. Tell them I sent you and to bill the visit to my company."

With that, he said he had to leave but would return as soon as he heard from me. Mel was to assist me in putting on the corset. He suggested I take out the breast forms and remove the wig, before I left the lab, or he couldn’t be held responsible for my fate. We chuckled again, as he headed for the bathroom to remove his makeup, leaving the door open to advise me how to remove mine: using a mild soap and warm water.

I didn’t want to wash it off, because everyone was so casual and accepting. Mel looked at me through glazed eyes. Mr. Walworth beamed at me with delight.

"It’s beginning to feel tighter. How long do I have to wear it each day?"

"That’s up to you. It will feel comfortable sooner if you leave it on for as long as you can, but not overnight. In a few days, you won’t notice you’re wearing it.

I’ll leave you three. After being worn, they should be hand-washed with a mild soap for woolens and then rinsed in cool water. Use the soap sparingly. Report any problems you encounter to Mr. Walworth. I expect you’ll feel totally at ease after about a week. My schedule is over crowded next week. Shall I expect to hear from you about the photo session in – say – two weeks time?"

"Wednesdays are best for us, Mr. Carter. We get out of class early, and our last class is a bicycling PE class, so we can ride our bikes over here by three in the afternoon. Will that be okay?"

He marked his pocket calendar. "My schedule is open then, too. Got it. I’ll see the three of you two weeks from today. These other two corsets are identical to the one you have on. The third, empty box is from the one you’re wearing. Be sure to alternate them daily and keep them in the box they came in. After the first week, try sleeping in one at night. You’ll be surprised at how good you’ll feel when you wake up in the morning. This new line is so comfortable; you’ll want to wear one all the time. Boned corsets are the exact opposite, so very few women choose to wear them nowadays, and would prefer to die before sleeping in one."

We exchanged goodbyes, and Mr. Carter left first, after putting his male clothes back on over his corset. I followed suit and put my clothes back on. Mr. Walworth said he had work to do, and didn’t have anything further to discuss with the two of us, so Mel and I left the lab and headed for our dorm building with me wearing my first corset under my cycling outfit. I wore the darn thing all evening too, until it was time to hit the sack. Mel didn’t have to help me take it off, so I locked the doors to the bathroom, and washed it out, then hung it to dry inside my closet.

++++

Our dorm building was erected in the old days when college dorms were run like cloisters. Our room was the first off a stairway and was originally intended for a dorm prefect, an upper classman, who would answer questions for new students and kept his room’s Dutch door’s top-half open to make sure no girls were snuck into rooms on his floor. Prefects had a single stall private bathroom, and the door to it from our adjoining room was never removed or plastered over. We liked the direct access from inside our dorm room. One minor difference: any guy from our end of the hall in a hurry could access the bathroom from the hall too, unless it was in use already, in which case it would be locked from the inside.

That made it convenient to hand-wash my corsets. Mr. Carter was right. By the end of the second week, the corsets didn’t feel tight. I wrote the "relaxing" of the fit onto the report I was going to turn in at the end of that week, but I decided to also tell Mr. Carter in person, when he returned for the photo shoot.

Mr. Carter was aware the corsets’ fit would relax somewhat. He brought me three replacement corsets that he claimed were "pre-stressed". He said that they might feel tight when I first put them on, but they’d "settle in" after the first wearing. He took some pictures of me wearing one of the three original corsets, with a digital camera he brought, after he made up my face again, and I put the auburn wig on.

We viewed the pictures together with Mr. Walworth and Mel on Mr. Walworth’s computer monitor connected to the camera. Mr. Carter appreciated my detailed comments, but seemed to be disappointed with how I posed. He suggested that I come to the lab to practice posing, and showed Mel how to operate the camera. He left some 8" X 10" glossies of girls posing in various other undergarments for me to compare. Mel and I didn’t miss how gorgeous the girls looked, especially the pictures where they were sprawled across a satin bed, fur coat or rug.

It didn’t take Mel long to figure out how to duplicate photographs of the girls using the elaborate equipment Mr. Carter and Mr. Walworth let us use for practicing my posing. In less than a week, Mel had printed out full sets of the girls’ photos; then made a hefty piece of change selling them to guys on our campus as "pin-ups". I tried to warn him we could get into trouble, because the corset manufacturer had exclusive rights to the professionally taken photos of paid models. He didn’t think that Mr. Carter would ever find out or mind if he did know about it.

Mr. Walworth did though, and he gave us hell for it. He warned us never to sell a set again. If we wanted to make some side money so bad, he said we should go to websites and copy someone else’s "girlie" photos. Mel said he tried that, but they didn’t sell well, because anyone could download them from the Internet free. What made the girls’ pictures so desirable was they had a "girl next door" look.

Yeah, Mel talked me into posing for some, after asking Mr. Walworth if he could use the equipment to make a few samples of me to sell. I let Mel take a few shots of me putting on my makeup, the corset, and putting on a pair of filmy nylons, just to see how the guys would react. They went nuts! Mel sold ten sets of them right away because I looked very young without huge mammaries hanging out of my fantastic looking corset. They wanted more shots of me wearing different Outfits! Unfortunately, I only had the one model corset, so our options were limited.

Then, Mel got another bright idea. He ordered more outfits from a catalog he had stashed in his footlocker. The pictures of me in those outfits sold like hotcakes for ten bucks for a set of ten that cost nearly nothing to make. We paid Mr. Walworth for a case of glossy print paper, and Mel put a deposit on a very expensive video camera so we wouldn’t have to use Mr. Carter’s camera any more. Mel bought me more makeup in different shades and a long black wig, so I would look like two different girls in the next set of photos he planned.

When Mr. Carter arrived with a professional photographer for the company’s photo shoot of me in his company’s corset, we had made close to a thousand dollars from Mel’s picture sales, free and clear. We thought we had it made.

Mr. Carter asked me to sign a standard release form, indicating his company had the rights to sell any pictures taken of me in their corsets, and the company had sole rights to use them as they saw fit, including commercial gain. He waved the four hundred dollars in cash under my nose, so I signed the form, thinking that he referred to pictures to be taken by the professional photographer. He then asked Mel to return the digital camera including all the recorded disks containing all the pictures Mel took of me while I practiced posing.

Mel goofed. He didn’t buy any separate disks to use for the pictures of me in the outfits he bought from the catalog. Mr. Carter and the pro shutterbug saw what Mel accomplished over the past two weeks photographing me.

Mel didn’t even have the brains to take the disks out of Mr. Walworth’s office, so Mr. Carter had downloaded the disk still inside of the camera into the computer, to review on the monitor. He didn’t say a single word when he saw me dressed in a negligee made by a competitor, with me wearing his new corset underneath it. Mel and I stood by in silence, because we assumed we were in deep doo-doo.

Mr. Carter politely told his photographer to take a break and ask Mr. Walworth come to his office. When he arrived he asked: "Were you aware of these, Jack?"

Mr. Walworth peered at the monitor, saw me wearing a negligee with one foot up in the air, straightening out my nylon stocking, and shook his head. "No sir, I can’t say that I was, Carl. I didn’t authorize them to do any freelancing."

The coward! He knew perfectly well what we were doing!

"In fact, I tried to warn Mel not to sell copies of the sample pictures you provided for Dean’s inspiration. Perhaps I wasn’t emphatic enough. You know kids."

"Have you boys sold any of the pictures showing someone else’s goods, yet?"

"A few." Mel was humble pie when he answered.

"How much money did you make off of them?"

"A couple of hundred dollars."

"I see." He pondered, while we sweated bullets. "This was very enterprising, but you should have asked me for permission before proceeding on your own. These are high quality goods and diminish our product’s worth. To take photos of them in conjunction with our corsets jeopardizes our ad campaign.

I hope you cropped the pictures of Darla, so her face wasn’t shown." Mr. Carter folded the four hundred dollar bills he had in his hand and put them back into his pocket. The move indicated that I would not be paid for doing the ad campaign.

"No sir. I’m afraid they wouldn’t be worth much without a pretty face in them."

"Well, you boys violated the payment terms we agreed on last month before the ink was dry on the modeling contract Dean signed. I don’t see why I should trust you if you plan to do things without consulting with me first. You must realize that you’ve sold something that the company owns without permission. I’ll expect you to refund whatever cash you collected and recover the pictures you sold before I will even consider paying you another red cent. And, that’s just for starters.

Did you sell any copies of the sample pictures, as well?"

"Yes sir."

Mr. Carter let out a deep breath. His anger was obvious. "How much did you make off of those sales?"

"We collected almost a eight hundred dollars, but we thought you were through using them because they showed older model corsets, not the new ones."

I noticed Mel used "we" instead of "I". I guess misery loves company. I never saw a dime of the money Mel collected for the pictures. He hung on to it to snowball the idea and fund the new video rig he planned to buy next.

"Have you spent it all?"

"I put a deposit down on a brand new video camera, and bought a case of glossy paper. The rest of the money I still have at our dorm."

"How much cash do you still have?"

Six hundred dollars, more or less."

"Go and get it, right now! I’ll decide what to do about what you spent, later."

After Mel left, Mr. Carter turned his attention back to me. "I can see that I can’t trust either of you two. Be thankful that I’m not a vengeful man. I suppose you’re thinking about how you will be able to pay back what’s been spent. Don’t worry. I won’t deduct it from your paychecks from Mr. Walworth, but I still expect you to continue to cooperate with testing the new corsets, because I have to account for what I’ve advanced you already, and report the sales of these pictures.

Our department’s annual budget is predicated on how many catalogs are printed for each dollar we spend producing them. We can sell off old proofs to offset our budget deficits, so I will cover your butts in that way. In fact, you probably made more than I usually do on a prior year’s proof shots. The company will have fits if they find out you had pictures taken showing competitors’ goods with ours."

"I’m sorry, Mr. Carter. We didn’t know we did anything wrong. Mel saw a way to pick up some –"

"I don’t want to hear any excuses. If Mel recovers the pictures featuring another manufacturer’s goods, I’ll forget the matter, entirely. If you two want to continue to work for us, and make some real side money, we’ll do it right. You and Mel will follow my advice from now on. Taking a dump where you live is too risky. We can wholesale proof shots of you for considerably more money, if you’re interested."

"We can?"

"Sure. However, let me decide what you’ll wear and how you’ll look. I assure you, no one will recognize you. By now you know I can create quite an illusion in you.

I’ll show you plenty of tricks I learned over the past years, so you can reap a part of the profits, along with Mel, Mr. Walworth and me. I won’t use the cameraman that I bought along today, so don’t slip up in front of him. We’ll finish a complete set of photos for the company’s ad campaign as planned, and do another shoot for extra money later, after I make the arrangements with another photographer.

Darn it. If the photographer didn’t get to see those pictures of you on the monitor, we might have gotten away with keeping the side project you boys initiated all to ourselves. I don’t trust him, so I’ll have to turn in the money he heard Mel say he collected, or recover the photographs, so my company doesn’t put up any stink. When Mel gets back, I’ll tell him to offer his customers a new, better set of photos of you at a big discount, if they agree to return the ones he already sold them."

"Why not forget about the other pictures?"

"If even one buyer puts those pictures on the Internet, we’re in for trouble."

"Why?"

"Digital pictures contain a coded file containing the serial number of the camera used, the date and time the picture was taken, and other important information to trace how it got onto the Internet. If we sell any pictures of you, we’ll use different cameras and computers that won’t link the photos to my employer. We’ll also use garments and outfits already on the retail market, not that garment you have on or one like it. Explain it to Mel. If he used other garments exclusively and different equipment, I’d have no qualms about your selling photos, even faked sex. Hell, I’ll help you to market them, as long as I can get an equal share of the profits."

"Faked sex?"

"Sure. It looks like people having sex, but there’s no penetration. Don’t you watch cable television? Most of the stuff they show is faked."

"It looks real to me."

"That’s the point. It looks real. Say. Shouldn’t Mel be back by now?"

Ten minutes later, Mel returned, but didn’t look happy. "Someone got in our dorm room through the adjacent bathroom, Dean. We must not have locked the door when we left, because there wasn’t any sign of a forced entry. They took the money I hid in our coffee can. Hell, they took the whole can, coffee and all."

We finished the photo shoot for the corset ads and the photographer left, telling Mr. Carter he’d get back to him, after editing and cropping the shots he took.

Mr. Carter didn’t seem as angry with Mel as I was. "So, you’re short by over eight hundred dollars. I can cover it temporarily, but you’ll have to agree to do another shoot now, Dean. Explain it to Mel, will you? Shall we do it next Wednesday?"

I let out a sigh. "I guess so, Mr. Carter. Are you sure we can sell it wholesale for the eight hundred?" This soft touch job just got a harder. Mel looked over at me.

Mr. Carter caught his bewilderment. "Mel, since you decided to sell racy pictures of Dean, we’ll continue, but in the right way. No real sex, mind you, just some faked shots to look authentic enough to bring a good price. Dean agreed to do another photo session. With my help, I think you can make more money, not risk your college careers or take photos that will be traceable to my employer, like the pictures you took using my company’s equipment."

"Dean agreed?"

"Yes, and you will star in them too, won’t you?"

"Me? Why me? I can’t get away with wearing girlie underwear."

"Your entrepreneurial conduct put you two in debt to me for the eight hundred. I see no reason why you should balk at participating in the resolution. Do you?"

"Damn right, I do. Dean looks great in sexy stuff. He gets to wear makeup and costumes so nobody will know that it’s him. How do I conceal my identity?"

"Let me explain about that. No one will know it’s you. You’ll be wearing a mask."

"Oh. In that case, I’ll do it. My parents would kill me if they found out what we did. It was also very careless of me to leave money in our room where a thief could find it. Now we’re indebted to you, Mr. Carter. As long as no one will know it’s us, what do we care? You’re sure no one will be able to detect me?"

"In most shots we’ll take, they’ll only see your body Mel, never your face. If we do need a head shot, we’ll use disguises. That trick’s been done to excess for years. There’s an old joke about two young, attractive women who once robbed a bank, stark naked. No one present at the bank could identify either of them in a police lineup, because they didn’t pay any attention to their faces. I doubt if anyone will pay attention to your face either. They’ll be too busy gawking at Darla."

++++

I got three new corsets from Mr. Carter in red, white and black. They were far too tight on me when I first tried to wear them, but loosened up after a few days in each of them. Mel had to use brute strength to fasten the hook and wool zippers, but seemed eager to assist me. I took the painkillers I got from the clinic to ease cramps the corsets caused me by being so tight. I noticed my new corsets were whittling my waist down in size. That was a relief, because the constriction added additional feminine definition at the bra cups to further conceal my identity. I then decided to wear the corsets twenty-four seven, as my initial debut for the photo shoot was approaching, one week after the traumatic session at the testing lab when Mr. Carter discovered our side venture.

Mel was a great sport about the entire affair. He helped me get used to my being corseted continually. He admired how the corsets sculpted my body into a svelte image. I would shiver when he massaged my waistline to help ease the cramps, lingering where his hands confirmed the abrupt blossoming of my hips, under the influence of the confining mesh molding my waistline. Covered by male clothes, my body looked sleek, as if I was working out heavily to gain definition.

Within the confines of our small dorm room, Mel consoled me, saying that I was starting to look more feminine when undressed, enough to pass for being a girl, even though my breasts were nonexistent. He played with the gathered fat inside the bra’s cups and told me he’d love for me to grow more flesh up there for him to suck while making the faked sex pictures to make them look more authentic. I guess my being fooled into the first set of photos led us to accept going further.

For a similar reason, I preferred a more authentic bust line, too. Knowing I would have a difficult time portraying a real woman before an unforgiving camera’s lens. It worried me. To satisfy my growing curiosity toward what it would feel like to have something real to fill in the corsets’ top, I visited the local K-Mart in search of the electric pumps that nursing women use to drain milk from their breasts.

The elderly woman at the checkout looked scornfully at me at first, but nodded in typical dubious understanding to my spontaneous explanation that I needed the inexpensive small pumps to complete a science project showing how a partial vacuum affects heat transference.

I spent late nocturnal hours encouraging my flat chest to fill out the empty cups of the corsets in the privacy of the bathroom adjacent to our room. Three days left before our scheduled photo shoot, Mel investigated the source of a soft humming he heard coming from the bathroom and discovered me. He caught me with the milking cups attached to my nipples, which were swollen to the max.

"What the hell! Are you trying to grow breasts, Dean?

"Not exactly. I was hoping vacuum would help expand my pectoral muscles to fill out these big, empty cups of my corsets a little like the firm band surrounding my waistline is reshaping my torso. Haven’t you noticed how my hips are bigger now that my waist has been confined in the corsets, pushing all my excess fat down lower over the past month?"

He approached me with a weird look on his face when he saw how my nipples were fiery red from the vacuum inside the clear plastic breast pump cups. I had no choice but to explain what I was doing, since he could plainly see that my nips were swollen from the pumps’ vacuum. He nodded and removed the clear plastic cones with a hiss to inspect what progress I’d made and began to manipulate my swollen nipples to see if he could stretch the skin behind them by pulling on them hard. I was surprised at how good his twisting fingers felt on my swollen flesh.

"Oh, Mel, too hard! That hurts!" He leaned over to capture my left nipple in his lips and his teeth ground into it with such urgency, I wrapped my arm around him, holding his head firmly in place with my other hand to pull him off if he bit me too hard. He lessened his teeth’s grip and used the tip of his tongue on the nipple.

For the next ten minutes, he alternated between my nipples, providing me with exquisite pleasure and pain. As he sucked harder on them, he made the flesh surrounding my nipples bleed. The immediate two-inch diameter of flesh around my nipples stayed swollen and dark red long after he stopped sucking and we reluctantly retired for the night, viewing each other in a new light, one filled with mutual and possibly growing affection. I was surprised I was able to get excited by another guy’s attention, especially my roommate and workmate.

In the morning, I woke up in considerable pain. Mel insisted I remain in the room, while he went out to find a lotion to ease my suffering. When he returned with a salve, he mentioned that he told a local pharmacist of the problem his girlfriend was having. I smiled, hearing that he told a complete stranger that his "girlfriend" had nipple hickeys because of him. That was a sweet thing for him to say of me.

Fortunately, the cups of the bra on my new corsets were flexible enough to fold down when I was pumping them up earlier, and when he was applying the salve that he acquired. I read the jar’s label out of curiosity as Mel generously applied the cream containing ten percent wild yam extract to each orb. The fine print on the label promised the salve would stimulate latent milk ducts to expand and add a degree of extra growth to my breasts. The claim was a bit puzzling to me but encouraging information. Could massaging this stuff into my chest area really make me grow tits? I doubted if it would work on a guy, but wished it were true.

By the next morning, the irritation from the hickeys that Mel and the two breast pumps gave me went away, but my chest now sported two bright red marks that circled my protruding nipples. They were still very sensitive to the touch, but the subtle swelling was a welcome sight. I closed my eyes to imagine what it was like to be a genuine girl with impressive jugs on her chest. The urge to fondle myself was so overpowering, I rubbed more cream into the tender area around my new insignificant mounds until the jar was empty.

That was on Tuesday. I hoped the swelling didn’t disappear over the next day, so I would have some semblance of a bosom for the picture shoot. When I prepared for the day’s classes, I discovered that wearing a loose, heavy sweatshirt was the only practical mode of dress I dare to consider. Otherwise the ripe berries on my chest pushed out the cups of my corset enough to show an outline. Even then, I was forced to use an elastic bandage to hide my chest’s new appearance.

After my last class, I decided to return to Mr. Carter’s clinic for more painkillers. The nurse at the clinic was a big help. She said the prescription the doctor gave me previously was refillable, but as long as I was there, she’d ask the doctor if he wanted to see me again so soon. He did, and marveled at how my novel corset’s viselike grip was modifying my waistline.

He then suggested an injection to ward off a potential infection of my tenderized flesh surrounding my nipples, as they were still inflamed. Without waiting for my response, he lowered my bra cups and inspected the area closely. He left me in the room alone, and soon returned, telling me to lie down flat on the examination table. I felt a cool sensation in each nipple from an anesthetic he sprayed on the two protruding nubs. Then I felt pressure and a warming sensation, but no pain.

I supposed that he injected an antibiotic directly into each nipple. He then told me to sit up and asked me if what he had done was what I had hoped to achieve by recklessly using breast pumps. I looked down. My nipples were huge. I sat there looking at them in a state of bewildered shock. I didn’t know if I should want what he did to me or cuss him out for doing it to me. He said they’d feel larger than they look, because collagen was foreign to my body and my flesh was reluctant to absorb it without becoming somewhat inflamed. With a hand on my shoulder, he told me not to worry, as it would dissipate by Christmas if I weren’t pleased.

Christmas time?

I sputtered. How could I go home to visit my folks and my girlfriend with swollen nipples? He must have misunderstood the purpose of my visit. I was only fooling around with the breast pumps. I didn’t seriously want to have a pair of tits! I hung my head in my hands and started to cry. This corset testing business was getting out of hand and had to stop! Sure, the swellings would eventually go down, but what was I to do about attending classes in the meantime? "How can I attend my classes like this? How in the world will I maintain my grades, if I miss classes?"

"Continue to use the ace bandage. The swelling of your nipples won’t be visible if you keep them under wraps. If you didn’t really want to achieve a more feminine figure, why are you wearing so tight a corset? Why did you want a prescription for muscle relaxants with feminine hormones? Independently, the two wouldn’t cause any permanent restructuring. But in consort with weight reduction, and a lack of strenuous exercise, your musculature will begin to dwindle and your skin will soften. You are bombarding your body with a raft of signals to change its status quo. Are you saying you are not considering reassignment? "

"Not that I’m aware of. Mr. Carter from the garment company insists I continue in my present assignment." I wondered why the doctor would be concerned about my testing the new corset design. "If Mr. Walworth reassigns me to field test any other clothing, Mr. Carter may not pay me the fee he promised for a photo shoot that I’m supposed to do wearing the corsets. Poor Mel and I will have to pay him back eight hundred dollars we owe him but we don’t have, and won’t be able to raise unless I continue to wear test the corsets."

I thought it out further without telling the doctor: Then, likely, we wouldn’t be able to repay without our telling our parents how we sold the girlie photos belonging to Mr. Carter’s company. I didn’t know what not to tell this doctor because I didn’t think he knew about the fix we were in. "You’ll have to ask Mr. Carter what else the garment testing that I’m doing will require."

"I don’t see how he has anything to say, unless he’s funding your transition."

"What transition?"

Why, your sexual reassignment, of course. When Mr. Carter first called, he said his company would underwrite any treatment you might request to assist you in the same course of action as the last candidate he referred, including fulfilling the legally required year in a feminine role. Have you chosen a psychologist yet?"

What was this mad doctor talking about? I had no interest in a change of gender. "I – I don’t know what you mean. Should I? Why would I need a psychologist?"

"I suggest you do. Look, changing your gender is a serious matter, not a game. If you aren’t seriously considering permanent sexual reassignment, you had better examine your recent activity critically with the aid of a genetic psychologist to see if your interest in breast development is based on a envy of womanhood that you want to resolve, or a merely a passing whim because of the hormones in the pain killers I prescribed and you are now taking. You’d better proceed with caution.

If you don’t know of any reassignment psychologists or have difficulty selecting one with whom you will feel comfortable, I’ll be glad to refer you to those in town who are highly regarded by the medical community, have sufficient experience to counsel you properly, and are willing to protect you from narrow-minded bigots and people who’ll try to take advantage of you."

"No, but thanks for offering. I don’t intend to refill the prescription you wrote. Can you write me another one for the painkillers that doesn’t contain any hormones or an appetite suppressant? If I knew the last one contained feminine hormones, I would not have used what I did."

"Of course, Dean. Perhaps it was very wise of you to return as soon as you did. From my first exam, which was preceded by the call from Mr. Carter, I assumed that you were seeking full sexual reassignment, which you confirmed by wearing a distinctly feminine undergarment during your last appointment. I now feel I was incorrectly misled about your true intentions. Taking hormones I prescribed for a brief period of time won’t result in changing your physique, but stronger doses taken over an extended period of time definitely can affect how your body looks.

I think you should have a serious chat with Mr. Carter to find out why I was led to believe you were beginning a program of sexual reorientation. I’m concerned that you shouldn’t trust his motives. If he has an agenda to get you more involved in deviate sexual activity against your free will, I’d be very leery."

++++

I went straight to my boss’ office to tell him I was quitting. "That’s exactly what the doctor at the clinic told me, Mr. Walworth. He also thinks Mr. Carter is planning to exploit Mel and me. He’s only using the corset testing in order to set us up."

"I can’t agree. I’ve known Carl for years. Why, you’re the fourth student he had me hire to test undergarments for his company. Not one of the others sought any sexual reassignment. Mel’s brother was the most recent. Perhaps you should talk to him and ask if he was duped into having any surgery. Personally, I’m shocked to learn that the doctor prescribed a medication containing feminine hormones, since that same doctor examined the other three garment testers and prescribed painkillers for them, but I doubt that they contained any hormones. The results of taking hormones would have been evident in the others.

The doctor must have misunderstood something that you said to him during your first appointment when you were wearing your first garment there to the clinic. The doctor was supposed to check you for any spinal abnormalities or physical limitations that would disqualify you. Mr. Carter wanted to be sure no harm would come to you from the rigors of testing his company’s garments."

"Baloney! The doctor specifically told me Mr. Carter authorized him to provide me with drugs to enhance the way I will look while wearing the corsets. The company would underwrite any feminization, including my living a required year in the role of a female. He suggested hormones, like he did for the three guys before me."

"Hmm. It doesn’t sound like Mr. Carter directed the doctor to give you hormones, but merely said the company would underwrite all the costs if you chose to seek sexual reassignment. There’s a big difference between someone offering to pay for a treatment and dictating the course of action, as you believe. Mr. Carter is a crackerjack salesman as well as a design specialist. He might have indicated the company would pay for whatever would encourage you, but knows well when to draw the line at coercing a doctor to do something unethical."

"I don’t follow."

"Well, you led the three of us think that you were interested in hiding your gender to look more –ah—shall we say: ‘attractive’ for the first photo shoot? Mr. Carter didn’t prompt you to go a discount store to buy breast pumps afterwards. Did he? He didn’t suggest you ask an engineer about the lack of female employees at the lab. You told me you knew all about Mel’s older brother’s previous assignments for the lab, when you didn’t know that he tested women’s garments. Are you sure you didn’t say something similar to the doctor at the clinic that misled him to think you desired gender modifications?

Mr. Carter didn’t agree to test garments for a hefty raise in pay, and then claim that he didn’t really know what a ‘garment’ was. You did. He didn’t even know who you were when you asked your roommate to assist you to determine how well the garments you would wear will hold up during a romp in the hay. You did.

You’re not that naďve, Dean. You may want me to believe you are, but I’m as big a fool that you think I am. Do you think all older people are gullible?

You love wearing corsets. It’s quite obvious. Why don’t you just admit it instead of trying to blame everybody else for tricking you into it? As soon as Carl and Mel arrive, you’re supposed to do another photo shoot. If I were you, I’d forget about blaming someone else and start thinking about the shoot. Now isn’t the time for you to get cold feet. Carl arranged for a well lit set, a cosmetologist and the good photographer, so if you think you want to back out now, you’d better reconsider. It’s too late. Think of a better way to reimburse Carl for what he has advanced to others so that Mel and you have a chance to pay off what you already owe him."

"I’m afraid that we’ll sink further and further into his debt somehow anyway, and then he’ll spring some kind of a trap on us."

"That’s utter nonsense. You’ve been reading too many mystery thrillers. The only traps you need fear are those of your own making. Take, for instance, the breast pumps you bought. By using them, the doctor assumed that you wanted to have larger nipples. Well, now you have them, so don’t complain."

The phone rang, and I listened intently to Mr. Walworth’s half of the conversation. "Yes, he’s right here, sitting across the desk from me, listening. We’re waiting for you and Mel to arrive." -- A pause. -- "Okay, in that case, I’ll drive him there to save time." He hung up the phone and told me to bring my bicycle inside the lab, as he’d be driving me to a studio that Mr. Carter arranged to use for the shoot.

Along the way, I asked Mr. Walworth: "What about my disguise and clothing?"

"Carl said that he and Mel have the studio set ready and waiting. A professional makeup artist he knows is now on her way there, too. That was why he called.

Carl thinks you can look real sexy if a pro does your makeup. I know the woman well. She assists a movie production company when they shoot on location in town. We’re lucky to have her assistance. Carl knows many people in the film industry, from supplying them with his company’s goods. One of Carl’s other passions is to design elaborate gowns and costumes used in making movies."

"But -- She’ll know who I am if I show up there like this, Mr. Walworth. Mr. Carter promised that no one else would be able to identify me."

"Unless you tell her, she won’t know your real name or where you’re from, Dean. She’s a professional. There’ll be a professional photographer there, too. Neither will want to expose anyone, since by doing so they’d be cutting off a source of their income. You worry too much for your own good."

"I’m the one who will be in front of a camera lens. I ought to be concerned."

++++

The woman Mr. Carter introduced me to was extremely pleasant in manner, and particularly pleased at how my corset coaxed my body into shape. She had fixed up Mel already, who was wearing a long robe. If I didn’t recognize his voice when we arrived, Mr. Carter would have had to introduce me to him too, because Mel had a mustache, a tiny beard they called a "Van dyke" and sported two tiny horns on top of his head that made him look like a handsome devil impersonator. The woman really knew how to do her stuff, which put me at ease, learning that she planned to use elaborate latex masking to conceal my features.

The studio had a dressing room where she did her magic. Watching in the mirror was interesting, as she explained what she was doing when she applied two thin latex strips over my eyebrows to hide them before she penciled in highly arched brows. The edges of the latex were invisible, once her deft hand blended them in. She added a piece of latex under my nose, completely changing its appearance because it made my nose look real cute, like a girl’s

"Do you like what I’ve done so far, Darla?" She used my adopted feminine name. I wasn’t sure if she even knew my real name.

"It’s fantastic, Miss Turner. I look completely different."

"Call me ‘May’, honey. Now, for the first shoot, would you like me to leave your lips as they are, or give you a pretty Cupid’s bow?"

"First shoot?"

"I think Mr. Carter wants photographs of three different girls before we can call it a wrap tonight. Don’t worry. I brought along several bits and pieces to change how you’ll look. The public will think they’re seeing three different girls, since you haven’t marred your body permanently with tattoos. We can use a water-soluble ink transfer to add a touch of decoration to your shoulder, or hips if you want me to, and wash them off afterwards. Makeup artistry isn’t limited to a person’s face nowadays. I wish your ears were pierced, though."

"I was thinking about it, but ---"

"Good. Let’s do it now. You’ll look gorgeous up close with long earrings on."

"Why not use clip-ons?"

"We could, but wearing even a small pair of clip-ons becomes painful after you’ve had earrings on all evening. Once a piercing heals, you won’t mind wearing them for any length of time and the variety of elegant styles available for pierced ears exceeds clumpy looking clip-ons by far. We’re trying to achieve authenticity in the photos. Did you ever hear of a model who didn’t have pierced ears?"

"Will it hurt a lot?" She was holding what looked like a labeling gun in her hand.

"You’ll hardly notice. This is a very good tool. It will put a stud into place so fast; it won’t feel anywhere near as bad as getting an injection from a nurse. Ready?"

I hesitated, and was about to nod my acceptance when felt a pinch in my left ear. As I turned my head to look to the mirror, I felt the second pinch in the right one. The woman chuckled over my hesitancy and subsequent surprise.

"Everyone experiences the same uneasy trepidation. They are all as surprised as you are, at how little pain ear piercing causes. Now, doesn’t that look stunning?"

I looked back into the mirror. She was right. The image I saw no longer could be thought of as male. I felt a tingle of arousal at my groin. Seeing myself looking more and more like a pretty girl was turning me on. "What’s next?"

"Applying eyeliner, powder, blush, and lipstick. Unless, you prefer that I enhance your bust line first? Would you like to find out what it’s like to feel real pendulous breasts pulling on your shoulders? I have a set of good quality mastectomy forms I know will look great on you. They’re made of the same type of latex that I used to cover your eyebrows, so I can blend the edges, so well, you’ll look natural, like you grew them the same way real girls do. The garment you are wearing will look better with your chest bulging out at the top, too. It won’t take me long, but you’ll need to lie down flat, so I can align them properly, before I glue them into place."

I went to the chaise lounge in the corner of the dressing room when May pointed. I didn’t hesitate, because I’d been dreaming about breasts ever since I put on my first corset. She didn’t waste any time and lowering the corset’s breast cups away from my chest, exclaimed appreciation when my nipples were exposed. "Oh, by now my brother must have introduced you to his favorite pastime: sucking on tit!"

"Your brother?"

"Yes, Mel. Don’t tell me! Didn’t they mention that I’m his older brother: Mark?"

"No!" I sat bolt upright. "Mr. Walworth only told me that you were a professional cosmetologist from a movie studio. You’re really Mel’s brother?" I was shocked.

"That stinker. He knows perfectly well that I’m still attending grad school. I’m on call to production companies when they’re in town for a location shoot. That’s why I can’t devote a substantial amount of time to wear testing for Mr. Walworth any more. With working in makeup on short notice, I can’t handle a second job. That’s why he was pleased to hear that you were willing to take my place.

Mr. Carter pays Mr. Walworth very well to arrange for a few college guys like us to test his creations, and shows pictures of us wearing them to his customers. He makes sure his customers know that we’re guys in reality. Girls with fairly decent looking bodies can make a garment look great, but making a guy look great takes a garment that is made very well.

That’s why he is so successful. He lets the garments sell themselves, instead of making false promises. We’re proof his creations will do what he claims they will. If they don’t hold up under the abuse that we put them through, he modifies the design so that they do. That’s a great corset you have on. I wish I had one."

"It’s a new thing. Some special kind of machine makes the cloth, so it’s stronger where it has to be, and very light where strength isn’t important. "

"Yes, Mr. Walworth mentioned that to me when he begged me to wear-test it. Too bad I still had to turn him down. You’re the first guy to test the new design concept for Mr. Carter. How long have you been wearing this model?"

"A little over a month, but not the same ones. I have three new ones Mr. Carter brought me last week to replace the two successive sets of three corsets that became loose after I wore them for a week or two. I guess the material needs more testing because the garments get fatigued after being worn and become loose except at the waistline. The reinforcing panel keeps that part snug on me."

"Were they extremely tight when you first tried them on?"

"Yes. In fact Mel has to do the zippers up for me. They’re a new design, too. The usual teeth of a zipper are replaced with hook and wool strips that are fastened together and then folded over to result in an invisibly joined seam at the side."

"Let me take a closer look. One month, you say."

"Well, a few days more than a month, really. Why?"

"It took me over a year to achieve a slim waistline that abruptly flares to wide hips like yours. Have you ever worn corsets before testing this model for Mr. Carter?"

"No. Never. Am I doing something wrong?"

"Not at all. I’ll bet the special material works better than he anticipated. You have a figure most girls would kill to have. Have you been meticulously taking down all your measurements daily over the month you’ve been wearing the corset?"

"Like clockwork, every morning. I get paid extra to carefully track all the changes. I dropped over four inches off my waist and added three to my hips already, but I haven’t lost a lot of weight. I did lose a few pounds when I first took up bicycling for PE with Mel, but not a lot. Most of the weight has gone south, into my hips."

"I noticed. Are you using hormones to promote softer skin or muscle atrophy?"

"Atrophy? I just found out today that the pain pills the doctor gave me for cramps that I had when I first started testing these corsets contained feminine hormones and some kind of muscle relaxant. The doctor prescribed them for me because he incorrectly thought I was beginning sexual reassignment in addition to testing these corsets, which was a big misunderstanding I straightened it out today."

"Hmmm. Did Mr. Carter send you to this doctor?"

"Yes, he did, because Mr. Carter’s company arranged to pay the clinic directly for all the medical exams they wanted, so they would know firsthand if the new cloth they’re testing causes a rash or other complications from the corsets being worn over an extended period of time." I told May the doctor’s name and the name and address of the clinic. She said she used the same clinic when she wear- tested corsets, and thought he was a very good doctor, though he didn’t prescribe any regimen of feminine hormones for her, as far as she knew.

"I’ve been seeing him ever since I began attending college, long before I started to work for Mr. Walworth. He’s a well-respected physician. Prescribing hormone supplements was likely due to the innocent misunderstanding. However, just look at how your body took to the influence of taking hormones in such a short time. Those are great looking nipples, kiddo."

"Oh, that. The doctor injected some collagen, after what happened to them from using breast pumps on them. Well, Mel made them get inflamed after catching me in the bathroom late one night using breast pumps."

"Are you considering sexual reassignment or not?"

"No, not at all. You made the same mistake the doctor did. He misunderstood my playing around with breast pumps, too. That’s what prompted him to pump up my swollen nipples with the collagen. After he did it, he told me it was a lot safer than risking infection from broken capillaries from vacuum pumps or a boyfriend’s lips. I was so embarrassed, I didn’t know what to say to him."

"It’s going to be a shame to hide them under latex falsies. The breast forms that I brought for you to wear have recesses built in the back, so they’ll fit you without any problem. In fact, they’ll fit you much better than other guys. You’re going to marvel at how they’ll look, seeing as how you tried to develop a pair of your own breasts by using vacuum pumps."

"Not a smart move, eh?"

"Whatever. Mel’s going to pee in his pants when he spots you with these babies on your chest. He’s an avid breast man, you know. Loves to suckle. Why, even our mom says he’s got to find himself a woman who likes her man to breastfeed. She had a hard time weaning him. He will, if I know my brother. Now lie still until the glue sets up. Close your eyes and take a breather. I’m going out for a smoke. I’ll return to let you know when you can sit up. Figure about ten minutes."

She (or he, really) left me to ponder my future. She asked a lot of questions, but didn’t explain why she asked them, or what my answers meant to her.

She was a nice person. I decided that I liked her, even more than Mel. Which reminded me. Mel was waiting patiently, so he could play being a little devil.

After May returned from having her smoke, she applied makeup to edges of the breast forms, so they’d look natural. "I wish the manufacturer could make them taste as good as they look. You could bet your last buck Mel wouldn’t let me take them back off of you. If you had continued to take the hormone pills, you wouldn’t need these falsies in a year or so. You’d grow your own full set of tits by then."

"Really? If I mention something about Mel, would you promise not to get upset?"

"Depends on what it is. He’s my kid brother, you know."

"Well, when Mel caught me fooling around with the breast pumps, he went wild and sucked them so hard he gave me hickeys around my nipples. I had a hard time stopping him because his lips on them felt so good that I think I went into a trance. I really didn’t want him to stop. If there were some way to hide them, so that I could still attend my classes as a guy, I wouldn’t mind having a genuine pair of breasts of my own, so that my corsets will fit well. Besides, they feel so good sticking out all the time."

"Are you sure you’re not gay?"

"NO! I only like girls. I have a steady back home. Why does everyone think a guy is gay if he gets a big kick out of doing something a little kinky? I wouldn’t really want a big set of jugs, just a bit extra for my girlfriend to play with. Whenever I would fondle or kiss her breasts, she’d tweak my nipples, which felt great to me. She often told me that I didn’t know what I was missing. When I first started to wear-test the corsets, the empty cups made me want to find out what it would be like, more than before. That’s why I experimented with breast pumps. "

"Is that why you don’t mind wearing makeup or having these pictures taken?"

"I agreed to having the pictures taken to repay money we owe to Mr. Carter. Mel and I made a big mistake. Mel sold some pictures of me wearing stuff that wasn’t made by the company along with me in my corsets. Mr. Carter insisted Mel buy them back and promise to replace them with better ones. That’s why we’re here."

A knock on the door to the dressing room interrupted us. The photographer was waiting and growing impatient. We came out together to find the room lit by low light. The photographer had me pose for an hour, while Mr. Walworth, Mr. Carter, Mel and his brother looked on. He was changing rolls of film, when he instructed May to change my appearance for the next sequence.

Fifteen minutes later, I was back on the bed, or before one of three backdrops, posing for another set of photos wearing different outfits over my white corset.

During the second set of photos, Mel asked the photographer if it was time for him to get into the pictures yet. The cameraman chuckled and asked him to be more patient. He’d get around to the fake sex show in a few more minutes.

When the second set of shots was finished, He told me to go change into my red corset and a red negligee I’d find in the dressing room, along with the red nylon stockings and a pair of shiny black vinyl boots with pencil thin heels. Then, he told me to put on the things in a box he handed to me. I looked inside. A fiery red wig and a short red tail must attach by snaps to my red corset. "Let’s make this set look real hot. Take all the time you need to get ready. Don’t rush. Okay?"

May helped me to change. She suggested I use a set of colored latex lips with the costume, so my lipstick won’t smear. She opened up a plastic case. Inside was what appeared to be oversized painted lips attached to the end of a short tube. She said the tube world help me flex the thick latex lips to speak properly. When I wasn’t speaking, the lips would form a protruding, sexy pout.

She fitted the latex lips over mine, and affixed a flange behind the lips in front of my teeth forcing the lips to stick out more. Biting down on the tube would make my lips change their shape, as my lip muscles weren’t strong enough on their own when extended by the flange in front of my teeth and restricted by adhesive.

With the fake lips in place, she started to blend the edges into my cheeks and my chin, using more latex cement. She said that the movement of my new lips would require more adhesive than the eyebrows. I watched her in the mirror as my face took on the look of a teenaged tart. While the glue was still setting, she finished changing the complexion of my face to look redder, to match my outfit better.

"Now, let’s test the lips." She opened her blouse and exposed a perfect set of breasts. She opened her underwired bra’s front clip and said: "Suck."

I leaned forward hesitantly. Her hand on my head drew my mouth to one of her nipples. I couldn’t feel through the latex lips, so I pushed the tip of my tongue out through the tube. Her nipple was warm, like the rest of her breast. "That’s enough – for now. Let me check out the edges of your lips to make sure they’ll hold up."

She examined the edges of the lips closely for damage. "Perfect! It’s show time!"

"Your breasts are real! They’re warm!"

"No, latex absorbs body heat and just feels real, soft and warm. You didn’t notice the taste of the latex because my nipples taste like just like your lips, kind of blah. Besides, if my brother kisses you in the next shoot, he’ll be kissing the latex lips, not your real lips, so don’t get upset about how passionate he seems to get. It’s still faked kissing. We’d better get a move on, so the ‘men’ don’t get antsy."

The cameraman was talking to Mel, giving him instructions when we walked onto the set, a different one from the set where the other pictures were taken. This set had a round bed with black satin sheets. Mr. Walworth and Mr. Carter weren’t there, which put me more at ease. I blushed when Mel took me by the hand and led me over to the bed, looking a like a devil: horny, sexy and damned attractive.

"Don’t be nervous, Darla. Remember that we’re supposed to act like performers following a script. If I get amorous, don’t freak out on me. Follow what I tell you to do. You won’t have to do anything really, but it will look like I’m really kissing you passionately. Try to look reluctant so it looks like I’m seducing you. I’ll try to keep my latex lips where my ‘sister’ put latex on you. Our photographer instructed the others to step out, so he will be the only other person here in the room with us."

The photographer told me to sit at the edge of the bed, with my forelegs over the edge. He arranged my negligee to his satisfaction to like I was preparing to retire for the night, and was about to remove my boots.

I was to look up in surprise as Mel approached the bed, pretending that I wasn’t expecting him. Once Mel sat beside me on the bed, I was supposed to obey his instructions as if he had put me into a hypnotic trance. If he instructed me to do something weird that I didn’t understand, I should cross my fingers, to advise the photographer when to stop taking pictures, so I could ask questions.

Mel removed his robe. He was totally naked, except for a nearly invisible condom covering his soft manhood. He whispered that there’d always be at least a layer of latex between us, so it would only appear to the camera that we were making body contact. I nodded and gulped, because I already had a good idea of where he might want to stick that thing once it got harder. My stomach was in turmoil at the thought of Mel touching me with it, even if covered by a sheath. Being under a devil’s control made me feel highly aroused. My nipples throbbed in response to the bizarre setting. They were expecting me to comply with the scenario, which portrayed a virgin possessed being manipulated passionately by the devil.

I knew that I would have wanted to do just as Mel was doing, if I was performing his role and someone as pretty as me was sitting before me on a bed, wearing a sexy outfit like I was wearing. He told me that he would first step up to me, and shower me with kisses, just as if he was seducing a virgin, and I should try to make it look as if I was trying to fend him off, but couldn’t resist his advances.

Later during the photo shoot, he would pull me upright, and demand that I kiss his manhood, but all I’d have to do was direct the rubber covered penis past my cheek on the side away from the camera, so it would look like I was really giving him head like we had seen done on adult television channels. The cameraman would signal whether or not he could detect the deception. After that sequence, he would set me up doggie style on the bed and put his thing up against my butt.

He said he would let his thing slide between my cheeks, warning me not to panic, at the feel of it when he got close. The rubber would still be covering it, and he really wouldn’t try to bugger me, but it would only look like he did.

I had a sudden urge to flee. I trusted Mel, but didn’t know the cameraman. If he should tell Mel the shots weren’t authentic looking, what would he expect of Mel and me under the circumstances? Mr. Carter spent a lot of money to set up this farce. Mel looked great in the nude. His hairy stomach rippled with firm muscles stood out in contrast to my soft skin. I meekly nodded and sat down on the bed, like I was supposed to, hoping that all I would have to do is fake the sexy parts.

The sequence began suddenly with many bright lights turning on. The lighting was so bright it disoriented my vision. I heard the cameraman talking from in the shadows beyond the bed telling me to stretch out my arms out and fake a yawn, then make believe I’m rubbing my eyes, being careful not to smear my makeup. When I took my hands away from my eyes, Mel was getting on the bed. He took me into his arms kissed me. Facing away from the camera, he reminded me in a low whisper to not break character, and only put up token resistance and to show dismay at his arrival. I was too nervous to do anything but obey him.

For about ten minutes he kissed me and rubbed my fake boobs. Then he started to lick them after exposing them. While he licked them, one of his hands went to the area between my legs and caressed me below the bottom hem of my corset. I thought I would explode from the heat of his hand covering my growing erection hidden inside of my gaff. After less than a minute, I began to buck up against his hand, to get him to stop. He ignored my whimpering and continued to massage my growing woodie insistently, in spite of my half-hearted pleas.

The sensations I felt at my chest were marvelous. I wished the latex breasts were real. I could feel the heat of his kisses right through the latex falsies. He stopped lavishing my false breasts with kisses, came up for air, and kissed me on the lips again insistently, but one hand continued to rub my crotch hard. I enclosed it in my thighs to slow him down, because I thought I would explode in my gaff from the thrills he incited at my groin. He got up, stood before me, and pulled me into an upright position.

I remembered what I was supposed to do. His penis was hard as a rock, so I had no trouble directing it to one side to fake the kiss. His hands on my head directed the slow thrusts he was making as I held his wand to one side and found myself with my lips at his pubes, in contact with his hairy ball sac. Instinctively, I stroked his penis with my hand in consort with my head’s bobbing under the influence of his hand on my head. He twisted slightly, and took my hand away from his cock with his. Then, he returned his hand to the back of my head and turned it slightly. His manhood slid along the fake lips. It was just latex, not really my lips, I kept repeating to myself, as I felt the hot tip of his cock reached dead center.

Then, Mel pushed hard. I felt the tip of his cock spread the fake lips into a wide "O" slowly, as his cock entered inside my mouth. Still, it hadn’t touched my flesh.

He stroked in and out a little, then suddenly plunged it all the way in. I felt intense heat from his cock as it reached my tongue. I tensed up. Mel’s grip on my head was firm, and the end of the tube inside my mouth prevented me from propelling the glans out. "Yes that’s it, baby. Take it. Do it good, baby. Suck hard. You know you want it, so take it all."

I had little choice, as Mel closed off my nostrils between a thumb and forefinger. To resume breathing, I would have to obey his command. After all, he was still wearing his condom. It wasn’t like I was really sucking on his cock. That’s what I thought until I began to taste saltiness. Using my tongue, I confirmed that it was bare. Mel’s cock wasn’t in a rubber any more. The extended tip of the condom wasn’t there. With a lurch, I pulled back and opened my eyes to look up at his smug expression.

"When you stroked my cock, you slipped the condom off. You wanted me inside your mouth without it. Didn’t you? Your fake lips feel unbelievably fantastic!"

I heard the cameraman whisper: "Slap her face and tell her to put your cock back in her mouth. I want a few shots with your hard dick head up against her lips, so hold that pose momentarily and then have her slowly feed it back inside."

Mel did just that. He slapped my face. The sudden tingling sensation from being slapped confused me. His hands resumed their firm hold at the back my head leaving me with no alternative but to accept the ensuing penile invasion. If I tried to run off I’d be unable to leave, dressed as I was and I’m sure the photographer would throw a royal fit. At least, we were all alone. Mr. Walworth and Mr. Carter weren’t there to see me suck Mel off. I totally lost my pride, got caught up in the naughtiness of performing fellatio on Mel, wishing that I could have been a real girl, so giving him a blowjob voluntarily, wouldn’t be so devastatingly gross.

Feeling his manhood sliding back and forth over my tongue wasn’t exactly what I thought a cock would feel like to a girl. I tasted his saltiness and could detect an unfamiliar pungency, and didn’t mind much, as the flavor was somewhat unique, kind of like raw egg whites. Mel kept pumping away, and his breathing gradually became faster and his thrusts were more urgent. I felt his cream explode inside my mouth. He pulled back suddenly, spewing his goo all over my face, while he pumped away at his organ with his hand. "ARRRRRGGGGGHHHH!"

My ordeal finally ended, and I leaned away from Mel in utter humiliation. "Cut! That was fabulous. Go back to your dressing room and ask May to refresh your makeup, Darla. You were terrific you too, Mel. Take a break, kids. We’ll do one final sequence after Mel has a chance to catch his wind."

I sat in utter disbelief at my stupidity. Mel easily transformed me into becoming a somewhat willing cocksucker in front of a camera. How could I ever face him as his equal again? Why would I want to? I felt like a complete fool, letting them talk me into doing the photo shoot. I should’ve guessed they expected this to happen. I really sucked off Mel’s cock instead of faking that scene. That was what was so hard to accept. Sure, as he first entered my mouth, I let myself think it was only a latex sheath, so it was no big deal. Once it was deep inside, I found out too late that it wasn’t the condom that I was sucking on. It was the real thing: Mel’s naked cock. I couldn’t stop Mel, or myself. When he penetrated the thick latex lips it felt exciting and made my pecker begin to pulse. I expected Mel to remain just inside the rubber tube, not go way into my mouth until he hit the entrance to my throat.

The cameraman offered Mel a hand-rolled joint, which the two shared, ignoring me completely, so I got up to return to the dressing room, to seek solace with Mel’s brother or his sister or whomever was back there waiting for me.

I cried on her shoulder like a girl. "He’ll want to fuck my ass next. I can’t do that. He doesn’t care. He’ll force me. I know he will. What should I do, May?"

"You’re wearing a gaff. How will he take it off without spoiling the illusion? You’ve gone this far; why not see it through to the end? He can’t penetrate your butt if he can’t get you to help him to remove first the negligee, then the corset and finally your gaff. Don’t let him undress you, and you’ll survive. If worse comes to worse, you can give his wand another licking. It’s too late to deny you did that already. You were magnificent bobbing up and down on him. I got a woodie watching it."

"You saw us? I thought we were alone. I didn’t notice you coming in."

"I watched it in here on the dressing room’s monitor. Video cameras are set up in the corners of the room up near the ceiling, facing the foot of the bed. The people who designed the set installed them for shooting scenes with multiple partners, so that they can enter and leave the set on cue without interrupting a take."

Were Mr. Walworth and Mr. Carter watching us, too?"

"I suppose. They went to the engineer’s control room together during the take. If they know how to set up the recorders in there, they probably recorded the entire scene on videotape, including when you received instructions from Mel and the photographer. I watched that part from here, too. Anyone who sees the footage of you being instructed by the photographer will know you weren’t aware of the video cameras in the room, nor know if you accidentally took off his condom or not. If I were to be asked, I could swear you did it on purpose. Did you?"

"No! I didn’t know that it slipped off, or I wouldn’t have let Mel stick his thing near my mouth to begin with. Oh no!"

I ran out from the dressing room after noticing the switchbox on the top of the monitor that indicated three different cameras. When I returned to the set, I saw the third camera positioned above the bed on a movable gimbal mount recessed into the ceiling with a grid under it to disguise it when it was not in use.

With that camera, the entire episode could be seen from up above, showing clear details of my oral supplication to Mel’s erection. I demanded to know where the engineer’s control room was. The cameraman pointed the way and resumed his break, sharing a reefer with Mel.

I burst into the control room and accused Mr. Carter and Mr. Walworth of deceit.

They calmly advised me that I already knew that I was to be photographed faking the sex scene. Giving Mel an actual blowjob wasn’t their doing. Neither of them was willing to admit guilt for deceiving me in any way, shape or form. They said they thought that we got carried away, and my going down on Mel’s naked cock when he turned my head was my idea.

So, they both knew precisely when Mel turned my head and pushed his cock into my thick lips. They must have been watching the entire episode from inside the control room. "Did you two get off on seeing me being violated against my will?"

They both shrugged and remarked that they had seen better blowjobs on adult television. They simply added another recording medium to the last take because the equipment was ready, paid for, and would increase the value of the session. They were already duping multiple copies of footage from each camera’s master tape to edit into one extended blowjob to bring the group a lucrative fee from the distributing company. If I didn’t want to share the bounty, they’d understand and split my share between them, but they saw no reason to let a great opportunity slip away, as there were considerable production costs to recover in addition to marketing costs still ahead and the outstanding money that Mel and I still owed to Mr. Carter for selling prints of the photos that weren’t our property.

Mr. Carter then advised me that my costume hid my new corsets sufficiently to sell the tapes on the open market without revealing the still unreleased design concept. If I was willing to cooperate and finish the last scene with Mel, I could walk away with perhaps enough money to pay for a year’s tuition and board.

"I’m not interested. I can imagine what he’ll try to do to me next!"

"Don’t be a prude. No one can identify you. Mel’s brother took care of that aspect superbly. He’s much smarter than Mel is. Don’t you agree?"

"I think May’s the only decent person in this entire fiasco."

"Aw, c’mon, Dean. Be a sport. Do the last scene. If you do, I promise not to ask you to continue further testing of Mr. Carter’s corsets and recommend you for the college’s design engineering program so any testing you do from now on, will earn college credit. Does that sound like we’re trying to take advantage of you?"

"How did you know that I didn’t qualify for admission into the engineering school and started college as a student at large, Mr. Walworth?"

"Dean. Every year I receive a list of freshmen allowed to co-op as QC trainees. Your name wasn’t on this year’s list. You aren’t an engineering student, as of yet. If you maintain a 3.0 average this year, you can apply for acceptance into the engineering school next year. If an enrolled student exhibits exceptional talent, a recognized campus mentor, myself included, can submit the student’s name to a panel of regents to consider for current acceptance into a particular school, such as design engineering. Students’ applications usually are honored if their current teachers concur with the submitted recommendation."

"You’ll recommend me if I let Mel screw my butt, right? That’s blackmail!"

"I merely indicated that any student showing talent could be recommended. After examining your weekly reports, I think you deserve consideration. If you decide to walk out on us, I must assume you’ll quit your job, as well. Your attitude toward Mr. Carter and me has been very hostile all afternoon, without cause. How will it appear to a panel of your teachers if you quit your job after your employer sent in a glowing recommendation? Your benign attitude will reflect on me, too. I’m still going to submit the recommendation. You decide what you want to do.

I don’t particularly care whether Mel plugs your butt or not. What I do care about is the tape’s marketability. Without you appearing in it, it won’t be worth the price of a blank tape. Please understand, Dean, or Darla. We will all profit handsomely from the venture if you put aside how you happened to have turned out so sexy."

"Sure. It’s easy for you to recite advantages to me Mr. Walworth, but I’m the one who will be risking exposure. My degree in design engineering won’t be worth much if I’m pointed out as a guy who made porn videos posing as a girl. I’ll have to live it down for the rest of my life. Mr. Carter: you don’t seem to care what will happen to me after I’m finished testing your garments. The only thing either of you two care about is how much money you’ll make from my dilemma."

"If that was true, we wouldn’t go through the trouble of having May dramatically change how you look in front of the camera today. Would we?"

"You also wouldn’t have gone through all the trouble of suggesting to the doctor your company hired that I was interested in getting sexual reassignment, either."

"You must have planted that idea in his head during your first visit. It wasn’t me."

May, Mel and the photographer appeared at the door of the control room to see what the clamor was about, though May must have had some inkling that it had to do with my being led down a primrose path by my employer and his cohort. They joined the discussion, not realizing how perturbed I was. The photographer asked how soon we planned to shoot the last scene, as if nothing was amiss.

I exclaimed emphatically. "We’re not doing another scene! We’re done!"

Mel spoke up, first. "Did I do something wrong, Dean?"

Damn! Mel looked so great with his face all made up to look like a devil. He had been nude in the last scene, but now was wearing skin-tight shiny tights under his short robe. The red tights made his bulging thighs look more prominent.

Mr. Carter looked at him and shrugged his shoulders. "No, but I’d venture to say that today would have been much more productive if you stood in Dean’s shoes right now. He is paranoid over the last part of today’s shoot, with the notion that his identity will be exposed publicly somehow. He also thinks we instructed his doctor to prescribe hormones. He doesn’t want to do another scene that will involve any further sexual contact with you."

"Oh." -- Mel blushed when he heard what Mr. Carter said. He stammered when he said: – "Would anyone mind if I speak with Dean in private for a minute?"

The others filed out of the room and Mel closed the door.

Mel took my hand. "I’m to blame, Dean, not Mr. Carter or Mr. Walworth. I was the one who told the doctor that you were a potential reassignment candidate when I picked up your first painkiller prescription. I told him we were living together and you were shy, but were planning to take hormones you ordered from a source outside of the country. Mr. Walworth and Mr. Carter don’t know anything about it.

Your doctor cautioned me about foreign made hormones and not having a doctor properly monitor a candidate’s progress. He already examined you, so he added a mild dose of estrogen to your prescription. The doctor explained that by starting out slowly you wouldn’t wreak havoc on your endocrine system and were less apt to experience bad reactions. I didn’t think you would notice anything, but they seem to have made your skin softer looking already, in less than a month."

"He must have taken my comments to him during my physical exam about doing anything I could to successfully look authentically feminine into consideration. I was referring to using makeup and growing my hair longer, not taking hormones. Why did you tell him I was a sexual reassignment candidate, Mel?"

"Once I saw how good you looked wearing your first set of corsets, I didn’t want you to quit wear-testing them after you made the initial big stink about you being tricked, because you didn’t understand what they meant by ‘garments’. I thought the hormones would encourage you to enjoy wearing the things women normally wear. I talked to my brother about how he felt when he started wear-testing his corsets. He told me that he took hormones to soften his skin and look less manly.

He knew from his own experiences that a low dose wouldn’t do any harm and he said it might heighten your interest in becoming docile and more feminine in the way you think, but would take at least a year for any noticeable breast growth.

Gee Dean, I really wanted you to continue wearing corsets because I’d receive the same rate of pay you were promised and because I wished you were more feminine looking since the day we met. Imagine how great you would look having real breasts. When I caught you in the bathroom trying to extend your nipples with those pumps, I thought I died and went to heaven and my wishes came true.

After wearing corsets for a long time, if you discover that you liked the changes in your body, I was going to suggest taking hormones to you to improve your breast size so you’d look more feminine wearing the corsets. I also wanted you behave more feminine so you’d be more responsive to me like a girl.

I should have known your doctor would advise you about adding the hormones to your last prescription when you went to see him today, but I was hoping that you would have broached the subject with me first, so I could convince you to let me call and arrange to pick up your prescription like the first time. That way, you’d think he was prescribing the hormones at your request. Instead, you thought that Mr. Carter and Mr. Walworth were responsible, instead of me."

"What exactly did you mean when you said that you wanted me more responsive to you? Do you expect me to behave like a real girl would and come on to you?"

"Well, not really. I was thinking that you’d be less likely to spurn my advances. When Mr. Carter first suggested taking photographs of you wearing corsets to promote his new design, he gave us sample pictures for you to help practice the various poses. Unfortunately, he later found out that we sold sets of the sample pictures to other guys on campus and got very angry."

"What do you mean by ‘we’? Selling the sample photos he gave to us was your brainstorm. I had nothing at all to do with that. That’s why we’re stuck here doing a porn flick. If you get any more brilliant ideas like that one, please let me know ahead of time, so I can transfer to a different college, Mel. I ought to wring your neck for coming up with that stupid plan, you goofball! Look, I’m no prude, but I never dug messing around with guys. I’m not about to let you treat me like your girlfriend, so you can get that idea out of your head, pal."

We had become fast friends, so I wasn’t really angry with Mel, nor was I dead set against the two of us fooling around a little in private, like we did hen he caught me trying to enhance my bosom. After all, he was a good-looking dude, one that should have no trouble hooking up with liberal girls on campus for some heavy hanky-panky. Still, I had to tell Mel something after he had confessed what he’d done. He looked like a sick puppy. How could I be angry with someone with only half a brain? He looked out of totally character in his devil impersonation and his short bathrobe. Damn! Why was I finding him so attractive?

Mel bragged a lot about his steady girlfriend back home when we began sharing our dorm room, so I mistakenly had assumed he was straight as an arrow. I had exaggerated to him about how deeply I was involved with the girl I escorted to my senior prom. Mel must have exaggerated to me in turn, to hide the truth about his being gay. I fell for it hook, line and sinker. I suppose he did about me, too.

His ruse worked perfectly; because he successfully led me into growing fonder of him to the point of entering a more than casual relationship that now progressed into my being photographed doing the most intimate act one person could do for another. I should have been more upset with him, by finding out he prompted my doctor to write the prescription laced with women’s hormones. I was positive that Mr. Carter and Mr. Walworth were behind the doctor’s mistake, I never even considered Mel.

I was upset for being tricked into wearing the corsets and then taking hormones. Misjudging the older men blinded me to the obvious. When Mel admitted that he was behind it all, I thought he was trying to cover up for them. He then admitted that he wanted to come on stronger to me from day one! Poor guy. I must have been giving him erections ever since the day we met and found out that we’d be sharing our dorm room. Being considered to be date material by a guy wasn’t something I expected. I suppose I knew I was being duped, but I didn’t consider that I was Mel’s secret sex object. The thought of being the subject of another guy’s wet dreams, a great looker, too, made me horny.

He tried to act defensive. "Hey, you knew about the pictures I was selling, Dean. You’re as much at fault as I was. If you were so dead set against the idea, why didn’t you say so, beforehand?

Besides, you let me kiss you and seemed to get into it when I caught you fooling around with the breast pumps in the bathroom. Tell me you’re not glad I arranged for the doctor to add hormones to your prescription. I’ll bet you can’t!"

"I’m too flabbergasted to answer that one way or the other, Mel. I suppose that I should be relieved to know Mr. Carter wasn’t behind it, or Mr. Walworth. Those two are still up to something that could turn out to be dangerous for us, if you ask me. They made the challenge of wear-testing these corsets sound too inviting."

"You’re being melodramatic again, Dean. Maybe they get their rocks off seeing you like this, in drag. I sure do. You’re gorgeous. Can we still be friends, now that I’ve come clean and admitted I was behind spiking your painkillers, Dean?"

I didn’t have the heart to spurn the big lummox. Besides, finding a new roommate mid-semester wasn’t too appealing a thought. Further, I could take advantage of his infatuation with me, if I had a mind to extract revenge for his effrontery.

I decided to play along with his sexual interest in me for the time being. I wasn’t about to give up the marvelous thrills I discovered getting dolled up with the help of his older brother/sister. I wanted to experiment more with the fabulous looks she was able to create in me with a little latex putty and war paint. She had done this sort of thing for years, and I could benefit from her guidance.

"I should have better sense, but" – pause -- "we can still room together, but only on my terms. You’re going to have to do whatever I tell you to do from now on. You seem to like me more when I’m feminine, so I’ll tell you what, Mel. From now on, I’ll be your ‘mistress’. You’re going to be my personal slave. Understood?"

"Really? Oh, Darla! I’d love to! You’ve made my fondest dream come true."

Mel tried to take me into his arms and kiss me.

"Not so fast, buster! I’m calling the shots from now on. Your initial punishment for trying to turn me into a woman without telling me to is to ask Mr. Carter if he can make corsets like mine in your size, so you will find out what a hassle it is to wear these things. Starting next week, you’ll be wearing them full-time.

Even though you’ll never ever pass for a woman under any circumstances, you’ll demonstrate to Mr. Walworth and Mr. Carter that being my ‘pet’ gives you certain kicks that you can’t get otherwise. If you serve me well, I may let you kiss my ‘clit’ as your reward." His eyes lit up, and he took my hand and kissed it, getting down on one knee.

"We’ll do another scene tonight, dearie, but you’re not getting anywhere near my butt with that huge plug of yours. In the scene, you’ll do exactly what you wanted to do me, but you’ll do it to Mr. Carter, instead. If I know him, he’s wearing one of his fancy corsets right now. Your older brother shouldn’t have difficulty altering Mr. Carter to look like an aging call girl. That’s what she’ll have to do if you want to continue being my roommate and serve me as your mistress. No go and talk Mr. Carter into doing the next scene in my place with you."

"Oh, no! Please, Dean ---"

"Mistress Darla, to you from now on, Melissa!"

++++

Surprise, surprise! Mel had no problem convincing Mr. Carter to have May put heavy makeup on him. What was shocking to me was that Mr. Carter looked great, too damned great! His face looked a lot like mine when May came out of the dressing room with him in tow. His entire body was void of hair and his skin glistened with a fine sheen from oil May had applied everywhere.

He wore a daring negligee that accentuated the clearly visible corset molding his waist into an hourglass figure. He was the devil’s female counterpart. Mel wore a white silk pajama bottom and took position at the foot of the bed. Mr. Carter had turned the tables on Mel. He agreed to do the scene, but only if he could be the aggressor. Mel sheepishly waited for Mr. Carter to violate him with the shutterbug capturing it all on film and videotape.

Mr. Walworth asked me to join him in the technician’s booth. We sat in awe while Mr. Carter seduced Mel, while he absorbed Mel’s rigid schlong with lips that were enhanced like mine. Viewers would think Mr. Carter and I were the same person, because their interest would be centered on the lips slurping on Mel’s hot poker.

Mr. Carter lifted Mel by the waist and literally threw him onto the bed. Straddling Mel’s shoulders, he continued to stroke Mel’s swollen member, and winked at the photographer. His member was in Mel’s face, but not visible to the cameras. With a push, Mr. Carter impaled Mel to complete the sixty-nine. I was getting aroused by the hot action I viewed directly from what appeared to be a mirror on the wall of the set. When Mr. Carter sat upright, it appeared that Mel was orally attending to a woman, as Mr. Carter’s prong was deep inside Mel’s mouth, hidden from our view. His rocking didn’t reveal his true gender. The monitors showed the close-up of Mel’s chin buried in Mr. Carter’s bush.

Mr. Carter leaned forward and resumed sucking Mel’s cock. Just as Mel started to spew his load, Mr. Carter rose up and let Mel’s spunk hit him in the face. I was so entranced by the show; I didn’t notice Mr. Walworth had moved closer to place his arm around my shoulder. Feigning timidity at this point would have seemed a folly, so I didn’t balk at his advance, until he took my chin in his hand and turned my head toward his. I barely felt his tongue as it entered my false lips.

He was very gentle. I let him continue to French kiss me. I granted my employer full reign to explore a little further, so he would forget about my unjustly accusing him of causing my doctor to add hormones to my prescription. His hands began to roam over my body, pausing every now and then over my sensitive breasts. I could feel the heat of his hands right through the layer of latex that covered my nipples. Regardless, the pressure felt wonderful to me, and I guess I let out a soft sigh when he cupped my false breasts. I barely noticed his lips left mine and he started blowing into my ear. I erupted into my gaff without being touched there.

The tension left my body as I slunk into a post orgasmic stupor. I saw Mel hump Mr. Carter on the bed before me, but my ability concentrate on their performance escaped me. I envisioned myself being impaled by Mel instead of Mr. Carter. The thought was enticing. I squeezed my buttocks tighter, as if it were filled with Mel’s urgent staff. The act made my cock pulse, reminding me of my recent discharge.

If Mr. Walworth had wanted to, he could have done what Mel was doing without my contesting his actions. Instead, he massaged my damp groin, urging me to reciprocate. I didn’t decline. My fingers trembled over the firm lump in his pants, as it grew more rigid in my grasp. I knew what he wanted me to do for him, but I was reluctant to start something that he would insist on from me from then on.

Instead, I tried to disengage from the hold that was urging me to descend to take his manhood into my mouth right through his pants. "Please Mr. Walworth. Don’t force me, not here, not now. I’m too excited and confused to resist you the way I should. Think of what would your wife would say."

"I’ll have to call her long-distance and ask her. Her new lover would be pleased to learn that I have a new interest to placate my raging hormones, Darla. You could be a dear and spend the night at my house, if you’d like. I’ll invite Mel and Carl to join us, if you think that I’ll be too demanding. Seem they’re getting on famously together. May and the cameraman can join us too, and we’ll party. Think of the options and possibilities."

"Ask Mel. This is too new to me. Maybe Mel will spend the night with you."

"Now is that fair? Carl is sure to feel neglected if I attempt to whisk Melissa away. Do you expect me to treat my very important client in such a boorish manner? Besides, it’s you I want to share my bed with me tonight. You’ll have plenty of opportunities to experiment with your roommate, but Carl is leaving town in the morning. Let the two of them spend Carl’s last night in town together, while we make passionate love in my waterbed.

I’ve been able to behave up until now, but watching you take Mel’s pecker into your mouth brought out a little of the devil in me. What’s the harm in making an older man who has controlled himself far too long a happy man? It’s not like you are an innocent virgin any longer. You should be eager to have more fun, now that you’re sexually active. I’ll do my best to satisfy your curiosity about how great anal sex is. I can be very gentle, if that’s what’s bothering you."

"That’s not it at all, Mr. Walworth. If I let you talk me into accompanying you this once, you will expect me to continue seeing you regularly. I don’t want to become too engrossed with rampant, deviant sex to the detriment of my studies. What’s wrong with my just wanting to exercise self-control and behaving?"

"Nothing, nothing at all. I’m tired of visiting madam palm and her five daughters to quell my passion. Women are possessive and want too much in return. Plus, the danger of getting a woman pregnant takes the fun out of a casual relationship.

I’m not demanding by nature, like a lot of men, but I would be willing do anything for the privilege of taking your anal cherry. You could even tie me up, or whip me, if you’re into masochism. If you’d like to be watched being introduced to anal sex, I’ll ask Carl and Mel, and even the others to witness your denouement."

"Is that what that means? I heard the term, but always in an indirect context. Why would anyone want others to watch getting butt fucked?"

"Why does anyone watch any sex videos? It gets them excited faster. Watching Mel screwing Carl right now excites you. Doesn’t it?"

"Yes, but I know both of them. I don’t think seeing someone I don’t know would be quite the same. Sex is two people touching and rubbing together in sensitive places to get aroused. That’s how you got me aroused. Trouble is, once a cork pops out of a bottle, the contents fizzle. It’s all over and it doesn’t feel as good."

"I can tell you don’t have much experience, uh -- Darla. That fizzling sensation that you feel right now is called ‘afterglow’. Unlike a flashbulb that goes off one time and is no longer of use, men are like strobe lights. It takes a little time, but a battery charges up the capacitor so the strobe is able to flash again and again.

Watching videos and live sex performances like Mel and Carl are giving us helps the batteries inside of us to recharge our internal capacitors faster. Talking about sex like we’re doing keeps our minds off of letting the batteries rejuvenate desire. Talking about different sexy acts and engaging in foreplay helps, too.

Look. I think the show is about to finish. See how hard Mel is concentrating? I’ll bet he’s about to climax. See? Watch how the muscles in his face and neck are tightly clenched. Think of the million little buggers shooting out of him and filling Carl’s butt. Wouldn’t you like to find out how wonderful it feels? See how Carl is reacting? He’s humping back at Mel to get every last drop out of him. He must be reveling in the pulsing sensations from Mel’s release. I can’t tell you how good it must feel, because I’ve never been on the receiving end either. Maybe both of us can discover the ecstasy for ourselves tonight. Darla? Darla? Are you okay?"

"I – I – my strobe went off again!"

"Good. Every time that you let loose means the following ejaculation will take a little longer and the peak will get higher each time. You’ve had three or four. Your next orgasm should be mind-boggling. Successive orgasms grow in intensity. We can go directly to my place to continue. Masturbation won’t give you orgasms like partners can. Tell me that you want to learn how it feels. I won’t disappoint you."

"Okay. If Mel and the others agree to go, I will, too."

++++

They gathered around the waterbed in Mr. Walworth’s master bedroom to watch him take my cherry. Mel was somewhat reluctant at first, but Mr. Carter promised to introduce Mel to heights of pure pleasure that he had likely never known. May showed me how to prepare for the main event by a process she called purging. It was very uncomfortable, but she promised it would become a pleasurable act in of itself in time that I would learn to enjoy. I doubted it.

We had watched one another in various stages of sexual passion all day. I was ready to help Mr. Walworth get a full erection by licking and sucking him with my extended lips. He climbed on top of me with his knees beside my ears and bent forward, causing his manhood to force its way between my lips. While he slid in, he took a hold of my legs and put them under his arms, so my back curled up so he could put pillows under me. Then, he began to lick my manhood until I too got hard. Then, he slid further and kissed between my nether cheeks.

I could see the others in my peripheral vision, caressing. May was fondling the photographer through his open fly, while Carl and Melissa entwined their bodies in a lusty hug. They were still recovering from the multiple orgasms Mel had in the last scene of the filming session. Mel just wanted to cuddle, but Mr. Carter told Mel he still wanted to get a blowjob from him while we watched, before the night was over.

I felt Mr. Walworth’s breath on my sphincter as his finger probed inside of me. A twitch of pain made me shudder as a second finger joined the first. He removed his fingers and I felt a moist intruder take their place to the oohs and aahs of our audience. "Rim him good." I knew that meant his tongue was sliding into me. The heat was relaxing. I tried my best to not tense up, but couldn’t resist the urge to expel his insistent tongue. His cock inside my mouth got so big I thought I would choke on it. Suddenly he removed it, got off of me and knelt between my legs.

He pushed my legs back up and put them on his shoulders. I could hear him put a condom onto his cock. He leaned forward and slowly parted the ring of my ass with his sheathed cock. The pain was so intense, I cried out in a loud voice.

"OH! It hurts! It hurts! Holy saints, please stop! You’re splitting me open!"

I felt him slowly enter me and the pain became almost bearable. "That’s a girl. Relax. The less you resist me, the better it will feel."

I gulped, and felt him slide all the way inside, then paused. The others cheered him on and clapped, congratulating me. I tried to smile, but the initial pain was too much to bear.

Hands caressed my butt cheeks and nipples. Everyone was trying to soothe me. The throbbing lessened, and Mr. Walworth retracted. Then he resumed pushing forward until he was all the way inside again. My tunnel was very slippery from whatever coated the condom. I could imagine how bad his cock would feel if the condom didn’t have any lubricant. I felt like I need to expel him, but it refused to respond. It remained deep inside my back passage, while the initial pain of his entry subsided. I was taking shallow breaths, hoping he wasn’t lying to me about the pain going away after the first minute or so.

"Oh, Darla. Flexing like that feels tremendous, but you’ll be more comfortable if you try to relax until you get used to getting fucked, dear. There’s no need for us to hurry. Our audience is enjoying your first ass fucking. Let’s not spoil the show by getting overanxious. I made sure that I’ll last very long so you will enjoy your first time better, even if I come early. I took a Viagra. Let me do all the work. You lay back and close your eyes."

As soon as I did as he asked, I felt another person joining us on the bed. My bra cups were inverted and two sets of lips found my nipples. I felt a sharp tug on my one side as the breast form was peeled away, exposing my excited nipple. Then the other was stripped off. More weight was added to the bed. I opened my eyes to find all of them kneeling around me.

Mel took my soft cock into his mouth while Carl sank his cock between my lips, and leaned forward to kiss Mr. Walworth. I placed my hands on the rumps aside me and fondled them as Mr. Walworth resumed fucking my ass leisurely. I had not expected them all to gang up on me, but the feeling of a cock gliding back and forth over my prostate sent me into a wonderland of sensation, so I closed my eyes and let them have their way with me.

It must have lasted for over half and hour, but each person expended a bounty of sperm onto my corset. Each orgasm made my cock pulse in response, but not with wild ejaculations like masturbating. These were deeply rooted explosions of increasing magnitude that lasted far longer and seemed to expand into terrific fits of total release from deep within me.

Eventually, everyone tired, paired off and let Mr. Walworth finish me off with his last intense orgasm that took the wind out of him. He collapsed on top of me, so I held him tightly in my arms until he recovered. When he was able, I kissed and kissed him, fully sated, feeling his shrinking member grow soft inside of my butt.

He was right about one thing. He gently initiated me into a full-fledged devotee of being butt-fucked. When he tried to get up, I put my legs around his waist, so he had to remain inside of me. I didn’t want the marvelous fullness to end just yet.

Finally, he slipped out anyway and took me to his Grecian shower, where he bathed me and nuzzled on my tiny nipples until I cried out for joy. He washed every little crevice, and asked me if I wanted him to kiss my tender nether eye again. He didn’t wait for my reply, but sank to his knees and gave me another shuddering climax with his tongue planted deep inside.

That night, I slept like never before. In the morning, we watched as May and the photographer took the spotlight. Her firm breasts bounced up and down and all around as the photographer humped her face to face. Then he flipped her over and took her from behind. Her globes swinging in precise cadence to his thrusts mesmerized me. I wondered if my breasts could ever grow to perfect proportions like hers. I knew that hers were the result of implants, so I wasn’t apt to achieve equivalent contours unless I chose to live as a woman full-time and did as she had done.

Not!

After that party, Mel and I got comfy together and more familiar in our room until the end of the school year. The following year, we were cordially invited to reside with Mr. Walworth, but chose to get our own pad, as we received enough money from the video sale to afford a real nice place with a hot tub of our own inside the bathroom and a swimming pool to share with fellow tenants and their guests.

We had many young men court us, but we dated very few, and drew the line at getting intimate with any of them. Eventually, we made other videos, but none of them were as successful as our first.

Mel and I continued to wear-test corsets, exclusively. We didn’t need to work our way through college that way, so we stopped wear-testing other things. The new corset design wasn’t as successful as Mr. Carter hoped. Girls were still shucking their bras and refusing to wear what they called a body harness. Still, many men would buy them, either for their girlfriends or themselves. Without the hormones to entice their bodies to take on a feminine shape they didn’t go femmy like I did.

Mel stopped product testing during our second year at college, but I continued on, and kept up the hormone regimen. I blossomed somewhat, and developed a conservative rack, but still could hide them when I venture home for the holidays.

Maybe someday, I’ll leave a version of this story at my parents’ home, without the sexy parts where my folks can find and read it. I’m sure they would understand my evolving interest in interior design and décor product engineering better if they knew how I first discovered why I didn’t date many girls in my youth and why I never date them now.

 

The End?

 

 

 

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© 2002 by Virginia Kane. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.