The Secret Stash

by Shy

 

James was running out of time. It was already 9:00pm, and he didn't have enough money to buy a ticket to the dance. How else would he get to dance with Cindy and tell her how he really felt about her? There wouldn't be another chance… classes will be over soon and he needed an excuse to talk to her. The dance would be perfect; he could be inches away from her and tell her his innermost feelings without a fear of reprisal. It had to be tonight.

He also had to get $10 somehow! But from where? His change jar had been empty for quite some time, in a similar fashion to his wallet. Mom and Dad had gone out for the night, and sis was probably already at the school. Dammit, 9:05! If he doesn't get there soon, Cindy might slow dance with someone else and take off before he even gets there! James was rapidly becoming desperate, he needed $10!

As he was frantically scouring his room for any change he could find, James noticed that his sisters' door was open down the hall. Hey, that's it! Sis always had a stash of money hidden in her closet somewhere! Every time she was about to leave the house, James could distinctly hear the sound of rummaging coming from her room. She'd exit her room with her purse in hand, hastily zipping it shut. If there was going to be a chance to dance with Cindy, it'd be through a loan out of his sisters' closet. Let the rummaging begin!

James headed down the hall and peeked into his sisters' room, being cautious in case she had been quietly home all along. Nope, the coast was clear. He switched on the light and walked in, sneering at her choice of décor. Obsidian bats, incense holders, and old dusty books were prominently scattered about the floor. The grey walls were splattered with crudely written poems and passages, something that she was supposed to paint over a long time ago. Dad really hit the roof when he found out his daughter was writing dark scriptures all over the walls of his house, but never really got around to making her fix the damage. Ah well, James thought, let her be a creepy witchy goth chick. As long as she doesn't drain my blood in my sleep, I'm fine with it.

The closet was blocked by a heap of dirty black skirts and socks, which James quickly punted to the other side of the room. Opening the sliding door revealed a multitude of dresses, gowns, corsets, and stockings that his sister had acquired through years of hard work at the local Mini-Mart. Dad was always after her for her paycheck, but it always managed to mysteriously run out before she could pay to paint her room again. James sneered. The thought of a goth working at a department store always made James laugh, and he never hesitated to remind her how pathetic he thought it was. Once he asked her if she used her 'dark powers' to make the customers buy more toilet paper. She responded by throwing the remote at him.

James began going through the large pile of boots and boxes in the back of the closet, hoping to find a chest or coffee can full of cash. There! A quarter! Now he was only $9.75 away from attending the dance! He scowled and shook his head, tossing the coin behind him. He knew that sis must be hiding her earnings from Dad. She didn't keep them in the bank, or Dad would be able to read her bank statement. If only pops knew how much money she was hiding from him, he'd have her painting her room along with all the other rooms in the house by now. James opened a large black box, only to be met by the cold dead stare of Jangle, his sisters' childhood teddy bear. He tossed the box aside, and decided to venture deeper.

As he leaned inside the closet to move the hangers of clothes from one side of the rack to the next, something large and bushy brushed up against his neck and caused him to jump back and fall on the bed. Breathing heavily, James scowled at the source of his panic: an enormous black shoulder length wig with bright blue streaks. The bangs were trimmed in a sight V shape, and the back of the hair was done up in two massive pigtails with incredible volume and thickness. The pigtails were so poofy and thick that it looked like they were made from 2 separate wigs, then glued onto the main wig with the bangs. James exhaled deeply, happy to see that he hadn't been attacked by some mysterious hairy beast. He moved the wig to the left side of the closet, and began rummaging through the pockets of his sisters' coats.

Just as James was about to start taking boxes off the top shelf, he felt something else brush the side of his neck. Dropping the heavy box of books and leaping back, he saw that it was once again the huge wig merely getting in the way. He frowned at this repeated misfortune; hadn't he just moved the wig further over to the left of the closet? The creepiness of this room is getting to me, James thought. I need to relax and find the stash. 9:20! The dance ends at 10! James needed to hurry, and stop worrying about ridiculous attacks from the messy closet.

James grabbed the heavy wig and threw it on the top shelf of the closet, as far to the left as he could. It landed behind a rather sizable box, which would keep it from getting in his way again. Shaking his head, James looked down at the box of books he dropped. He fell silent, his eyes wide with amazement at what he saw: Sisters' stash, spilling out of a hollowed out text book that she stole from junior high.

Jackpot!

James quickly dove into the wad of money and started counting it. There must be $400 in here! he thought excitedly. He knew that if he took half the money, she couldn't rat him out or Dad would demand as to why she had so much money saved up in the first place. She'd wind up losing the rest of it to repairing her graffitied walls, so she'd best keep quiet about it. Hell, why not take the entire wad? It'll be nice to see her squirm in rage while I take Cindy out to dinner. James chuckled to himself as he feebly justified his crime, and turned to head out of the room.

As he was about to head towards the door, James was once again startled by the mess in his sisters' closet. This wasn't an innocent little brushing of the neck though, something very large and heavy landed directly on top of his head. Twin walls of hair descended into his view, blocking off his peripheral vision completely. James screamed in terror, dropped the wad of money and stumbled back into the room. He tripped over the box of spilled books, and landed hard on his behind in front of the closet. The impact sent the two massive pigtails of blue and black hair swinging around his head crazily.

James was breathing rapidly; the initial shock of the wig falling on his head was insanely intense and terrifying. His panicked breaths drew out longer and slower, and evolved themselves into a quiet chuckle. The chuckle grew into a laugh, and soon James was in hysterics as to how silly the situation was. Thrice attacked by his sisters' wig! He couldn't believe his bad luck, and was glad no one was around to witness his chicken shit antics. James laughed a bit more; reassuring himself that everything was OK.

But everything wasn't OK. James stopped laughing as he clearly remembered throwing the wig into the upper corner of the closet. How did it fall on him? Most importantly, how did the wig fall directly onto his head, cap side down? James reached up into the mass of hair to pull the wig off. A cold wave of terror swept through him as the wig didn't budge. He pulled again, only to have the wig pull just as hard on his head. He quickly grabbed both of the huge pigtails and yanked on them as hard as he could. The wig wouldn't move an inch; it was securely attached to his head. James' heart began racing as he got to his feet, continuously burrowing his fingers deeper and deeper into the wig, pulling again and again in the hope that it would dislodge itself and come free. He might as well had been pulling on his own hair, as the wig remained on top of his head despite his efforts, the wig cap pulling hard on the top of his scalp with each attempt.

"What the fuck is going on?" James screamed out. Had his sister left some glue inside the wig? Did she know that he was going to snoop through her closet tonight, and set a trap? Impossible, he thought. There's no way that she could've set the wig to fall directly on top of his head like that. James reached up underneath the thick bangs and tried finding the seam for the wig, hoping to peel it off his head. The seam was there all right, but no manner of picking or scratching would lift the cap off of his scalp.

 

James was panicking now. Why wouldn't the wig come off? It must be glued on somehow… it must be! He began frantically looking around the room for any suspicious bottles, hopefully one labeled 'Solvent'. He needed this giant mass of hair off of his head right away, or he could kiss his chances of kissing Cindy goodbye.

James' thoughts were interrupted by a strange tingling sensation on his scalp. He had heard his sister complain about itchy wigs before, but this seemed like something different. It wasn't so much an itch, as it was almost a vibrating sensation. He buried his hands deep into the wig and scratched at the top of the wig cap, trying to alleviate the discomfort. This only seemed to make the tingling stronger, much to James' dismay. Just as he was going to try and pull the wig off again, the pigtails suddenly whipped around his face, wrapping themselves firmly around his head.

"MMMMMPPPPHHH!" James grunted through his newfound prison. James grabbed onto the wall of hair and desperately tried to remove it from his face. It was no good, the hair was wrapped quite securely around his face. If that wasn't enough, James was jolted with shock as he could feel the hair roughly rubbing against his face, as if it was giving him a facial massage. James started screaming through the hair once again and pulled on the wig, then tried to stand up. The wig wrapped itself tighter around his head, which threw him off balance and landed him directly in the closet. As he tried to regain his footing, he could feel a multitude of invisible hands grabbing violently at his clothing as if they were trying to pry his shirt and his pants from his body. James began blindly smacking the hands away, viciously trying to claw his way through the jungle of clothes to freedom. The strange hands were relentless, and continued their gripping assault. This prompted James to grab one of them off of his shoulder and bend it in half, hoping to break some bones or injure it in some way. His eyes widened underneath the mountain of hair when he realized that it wasn't a hand at all.

It was a sleeve of one of his sisters' jackets.

James let out a continuous scream, realizing that he was being violently assaulted by the clothing in his sisters' closet. He felt his shirt ripped away from his body, along with his pants and underwear. He flailed his arms helplessly as his socks were pulled from his body, followed by a strange sensation running along the bottoms of his feet. Soon, he could feel his legs being enveloped by what he imagined to be a snake, devouring each of his legs all the way up to his waist.

Remembering that he was in the closet still, James realized that these were stockings going up his legs. He felt them tighten around his legs and hips, coming to rest without much of a fuss. James mustered up all his strength and once again tried to break free of the clothes holding him down. He flexed his arms and his chest, and made a heroic attempt to sit up. Screaming through clenched teeth and a wig, he managed to move nearly a foot forward, before he was brought down by several jackets and skirts that had joined the fight. It was no use. Whatever was powering these things was far stronger than he was, and fighting was absolutley futile. Each time he tried to grab onto something solid and hoist himself out of the closet, all he could get a hold of was more clothing. James felt like crying.

The wig continued to rub against his face as a jiggling creature made its way onto his chest. James' breathing became more and more rapid as he could feel the things' body quivering and shuddering as it moved. When it came to rest, it stretched two thin straps under his arms and then snapped them shut against his back. This must've been sis' bra, complete with the breast forms that Dad threatened to throw in the fire. Sis was always looking for attention, and these breast forms almost got her expelled. Now they were tightly pressed against James' chest, jiggling with his every movement. James reached up to pull them out of the bra, but his arms were pinned back against the wall by the army of clothes. Something else was moving around his feet now, something hard and thick. It quickly moved up his legs and around his waist, where it came to a stop.

James felt a new level of pain as his waist began to shrink and tighten with the corset. It drew itself in tighter and tighter until he thought he was going to burst. His cries of pain and help were muffled by the wig, and soon enough the corset had shrunk his waist to what must have been an acceptable level by the standards of the closet.

 One of the many sets of arms holding him down released him, then climbed over his body and down to his feet. He could feel it move across his body, it was something large, ruffled, and extremely thick. It opened up at his feet, and began swallowing his entire body into its frilly mass. James' heart sank; he knew what this was. He has seen his sister wear it many times, and every time he saw it he made fun of her. Now it was making its way up his body, a thick layer of ruffles could be felt moving up his legs. It drew itself up, stopping at his shoulders and zipping shut. Once it was firmly on him, James felt the sides of the fabric compress and suction in towards his body. Soon enough, the dress was skin tight against his body and the corset underneath. The entourage of clothing finally let him go, and he took no time in getting to his feet and lunging out of the closet. Still blinded by the wig, James fell on the bed face first.

James' feet were dangling over the edge of the bed, and they soon had two long pieces of hard material running up them. When they reached his knees, he could feel each of the buckles snap shut in sequence, all 12 of them. Once the boots were settled on his feet, the wig stopped rubbing his face. He quickly rolled over and sat up, digging into the tight wall of hair around his face. Standing up and stumbling around blindly, James unraveled the now non-resistant hair and came face to face with the full length mirror.

The scream could be heard blocks away.

The results of the long, blind struggle in the closet could now be seen; James was fully dressed as his sister. When the wig was rubbing his face, it had somehow been applying extremely thick makeup to him. It was all there; the thin eyebrows, the white foundation, the overdone purple and black eye shadow, huge fake lashes, extremely thick eyeliner, and black-red lipstick. On his feet were knee length boots with a heavy mule sole and a multitude of buckles running up the front of them. Under these were black and white striped stockings, which ran up underneath his very poofy gothic lolita crinoline and petticoat. The dress was lacy and black with a frilly white apron in the front. The dress started at his neck and went all the way down to his knees, where it ended in a wide bell shape. James' heavily made up eyes widened as he noticed that the frilly white crinoline could be seen from under the petticoat. The skin tight lacy sleeves went down both of his arms, ending at his wrists. The enormous black and blue pigtails stood from the top of his head, running down each side of his face to his shoulders where they constantly brushed against his neck and face. Somewhere in the fray, a white ribboned headdress managed to weave itself into James' new hair, sitting partially buried atop the mass of black and blue. The large breast forms under his dress swayed and bounced with his every move, which James didn't appreciate at all.

Stunned, James stood silently staring at the mirror, unable to comprehend what just happened. He moved his arm up and touched his face softly; unable to comprehend the recent assault. James stood silently for a couple of minutes, awaiting the next article of clothing to attack him or for the wig to strangle him to death. He waited quietly; making sure not to move a muscle…

Then he suddenly snapped to attention and quickly reached up to pull on the wig, thinking that he could catch it off guard. The thick towers of hair were locked firmly on his head, his continuous pulling and tugging was still in utter vain. He grabbed the dress and pulled on it, trying to rip it off his body. Like the wig, it held up against his attacks. He reached for the zipper and tried pulling it down, but even that had locked itself in place and refused to budge.

The breast forms were next. Maybe if I can get the breast forms out of the dress, I'll have enough leeway to pull it off, James thought. He grabbed onto each breast and pulled hard, his heart filling with horror as the forms pulled back on the skin of his chest. James pulled harder and harder, tears welling up in his eyes as he tried to free his chest of these two mountains of jello. He pulled them out farther and farther, watching them stretch, then letting go and having them snap back to his body, jiggling and bouncing crazily. He tried to rip the stockings off, but he couldn't even pinch the fabric or get any grip on them. It was as if he was born with striped nylon legs.

James sighed in defeat, not even wanting to try the boots. On a whim, he attempted to unbuckle them, which was met with familiar defeat. The buckles were locked shut, and trying to pull the boots down produced nothing. The physical activity of trying to get free combined with the crushing grasp of the corset was beginning to wear James out. He was about to sit down, and give into his clothing captors when he was introduced to the newest element in his night.

He couldn't move his legs.

He had been moving only seconds before, but now it was as if his legs had locked themselves in place. Without thinking, he bent over and picked up the wad of sisters' cash. James let out a long, tortured scream, since this action was absolutely involuntary. The clothes were in control now. He stood back up and began walking out the door, having absolutely no say in the situation.

"What the fuck is going on?! Where are you taking me??" James cried out. He reached down and tried to stop his legs from walking, but the boots and stockings were determined to carry out their mission. He headed down the stairs and towards the door. His eyes opened wide as he saw the outdoors rapidly approaching.

"No! NO! I'm not going outside like this! STOP!"

James desperately started pulling on the wig and the dress again, making a vain attempt to free himself of the gothic outfit he was now situated in. He yanked on the pigtails on either side of his head, which was met with the now familiar pulling of the wig cap on his head. He fumbled around his pretty gothic hairdo and grabbed onto the ribboned headdress. He pulled at it viciously, but either side of the frilly white piece was buried deep into the wig, refusing to let go at any cost. He grabbed onto the huge poof of crinoline in front of him and pulled on it as hard as he could, thinking that he might be able to pull the dress over his head before he made it outside. The dress was firmly stuck to his body, clinging to his skin as if it was glued in place. He grabbed at the front of the dress and tried tearing it off himself. Hopeless. The clothing was unnaturally strong, and wouldn't rip or pop a stitch at all. What if the neighbors saw him wandering around outside dressed as a girl? Would they assume he was his sister? Why were these clothes making him walk around in the first place?!

Once he was at the door, his heavy right boot managed to kick the door open, and he strutted outside. Heading down the driveway, his boots and stockings led him forward with a quickened pace. James began pulling at the wig again.

"Well! I always knew that house was a family of fruitcakes!" A voice called out. It was Mr. Thompson, the next door neighbor. He laughed and shook his head as he watched the newly feminized James strut down the busy road, his wig moving around his head crazily with the wind, his arms frantically grabbing and pulling at his breasts and clothes, with his dress swishing around his stocking clad legs all the way.

The dance was nearly at an end. Most of the kids had either left, fallen asleep in the bleachers, or were out drinking in the parking lot. Cindy Edwards was standing near the exit by herself, a tad disappointed that James Matthews hadn't shown up. He was a shy boy, and she knew that he had a crush on her. The feeling was more than mutual, and she planned on making a move on him that night if he asked her to dance. She sighed. If his dumb ass goth sister showed up, then why couldn't he? Cindy glared at the circle of black skirted girls in the corner. She always had contempt for the goth group. They thought they were so intelligent, thinking they were above everyone else. She shook her head and turned to leave.

She could hear laughter down the hallway, accompanied by the sound of loud boots and a swishing of fabric. Probably the football jocks giving some poor kid a hard time, she thought. Cindy headed out the door, hoping to avoid the jocks cruel idea of humor.

She was met by a tall goth girl wearing entirely too much makeup and an extremely poofy and noisy dress, strutting her way past all the stares and catcalls in the hallway, a look of pure terror on her face. Cindy glared at her and shook her head. That's all the world needs, another goth girl! The strange new girl stared at Cindy helplessly as she passed, and turned to head into the dance. Cindy decided it was time to call it a night, and left the school before she could hear the endless hoots and hollers of laughter coming from the black skirted circle in the corner of the gymnasium.

  

  

  

*********************************************
© 2004 by Shy. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, and compilation design) may be printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without the express written consent of StorySite and the copyright holder.