Stripped
by Gingerfred Man
Chapter One – Greed is good?
My name is Richie Adams and I have a strange story to tell you.
I guess I should have suspected something when, at the beginning of my senior year in high school, my mother taught me to walk in high heels.
Mom was always getting involved in all sorts of odd, trendy things, so when she told me that she and Olivia, my best friend Warren Baker’s mom, were involved in some research study that compared male balance to female balance, I let it go.
Mom was the definition of idle rich. She was really idle because Dad was rich. Dad worked hard for his money, really hard, because Mom was always trying to spend it faster than he could make it.
When I was seven, I sold lemonade. When I was 16, Mom made me get a job bagging groceries. All the money I made, I had to hand over to her. She said that everyone had to earn their keep. Actually, Dad and I were earning Mom’s keep.
Mom always complained about the meager, minimum-wage paychecks I was bringing home. But she stopped complaining when she got me into those heels.
It was easy to find heels in my size, since I’m short and have small feet. By good fortune (for Mom), we’re actually the same shoe size.
Mom started me out in two-inch heels and I couldn’t even stand in them. But Mom was pretty relentless and in two months, I was walking easily and confidently in six-inch skyscrapers.
It was weird, you know, wearing high-heels. Especially Mom’s heels. They were expensive and mostly straps. The heels were pencil thin. And a lot of the shoes didn’t even have backs on them.
But you didn’t say no to Mom. I never saw Dad do that, that’s for sure.
Mom is very pretty and keeps herself in beautiful shape. I see men drooling over her a lot. But she knows she has a meal ticket in Dad, so she never messes around.
The really odd part of wearing heels, though was the "girlie" part. She made me wear nylon stockings that were the same length as men’s socks. "The shoes wouldn’t fit you in your socks," she said. "And I don’t want your bare feet all over my shoes."
I kept telling Mom that it felt stupid to wear girl’s shoes and those girlie nylon things, but she just scoffed. "Your friend Warren isn’t complaining," she would say.
Warren complained to me all the time about his Mom, and not just the heels stuff either. Mrs. Baker and my Mom were like clones. Both exploited their men to live well.
Little did I know that my exploitation was about to go much further than asking customers if they wanted paper or plastic.
Chapter Two – L’Amour Salon
As I reached my 18th birthday in November of my senior year (one day after Warren’s), I wasn’t exactly living the high life. Dad was doing well, but it would never trickle down to me. Not with Mom stopping the flow. And I wasn’t a jock or a brain.
I had a girlfriend, Sandra, who was OK. She didn’t sweat much for a large person, would be my highest compliment. She was always complaining that I never had any money to spend on her. And, to tell the truth, she was pulchritudinously challenged. As far as sex, we kissed now and then, but I had only touched her boobs once (and she didn’t seem to encourage me). So that was going nowhere.
I did have a nice stack of porn I downloaded from the Internet, which, with my hand, provided some comfort. But not enough.
Maybe, I thought, things would get better after my 18th birthday.
How prophetic that thought was.
On the morning of my 18th birthday, which was a Saturday, Mom awakened me with a big hug and kiss. That should have set off alarm bells.
She hustled me to get dressed, sped me through breakfast, then practically shoved me into her Mercedes SUV (two gallons per mile).
Dare I ask where we were going?
Ten minutes later, the question was moot.
We pulled up in front of the L’Amour Salon, the place where Mom would drop $200 each week for a beauty tune-up and an oil change. She never took me when she came there. Hmmm.
Vaguely, I noticed that Mrs. Baker’s Lexus SUV was also parked outside the salon.
Mom dragged me in and twenty heads turned our way. One of those heads was Warren Baker’s, my best friend since fourth grade, only he was sitting in a salon chair having things done to his boyishly cut hair. Girlish things. And he looked miserable.
Why was Mrs. Baker doing that to my friend? Why did Mom bring me there to witness it?
Uh oh.
I got it.
I was there for the same treatment.
I panicked. Why? Why? Why?
I turned to Mom, who was looking at me the way a cat considers a bird with a clipped wing. My eyes asked "Why?"
Mom smiled and said, "It’s time you and Warren got real jobs, Sweetie."
Trapped. Over the next four hours, Warren and I got manicures, pedicures, leg-shavings, pubic-hair waxings (ouch!), facials and full-make-up (including lessons) and became short, but curly-haired blondes. I was totally, permanently humiliated.
But our trek was only beginning.
After the "treatment," we were taken to the salon's back room, where a smirking Mr. Andre, the salon owner, and our mothers dressed us in girl’s clothes!
Girl’s clothes! And all our mothers would say was that it was time we got real jobs.
Warren and I had to strip naked in front of our moms and that fruity hairdresser. Then we put on panties and bras.
I didn’t have boobs, I told Mom. Why did I need a bra? Whining didn’t help. Then I slipped on the tan stockings Mom handed me. Ooooohh. I had to admit. They did feel good. Especially on my thighs.
I had never even seen a garter belt when Mom handed it to me, so she had to show me how to wear it. I put on a very short, plaid, pleated skirt and a sweater. Then I slipped on five-inch slingback heels and was led to a mirror.
Oh my! All the blood in my body rushed to my penis as I saw my beauteous self. Warren, who had been behind a partition, joined me. He was delicious, and from his tented skirt, he felt the same way about me.
I was hotly, sexually excited and fatally terrified. An interesting combination.
The moms thanked Mr. Andre and we left the salon, all piling into Mom’s SUV.
Warren and I sat in the back. I looked at him and he looked at me. He was trembling and so was I.
As Mom left the parking lot, I hugged Warren, something we had never done before. "It’ll be all right, Warren, I said. Whatever it is we’ll face it together."
Mom looked at Mrs. Baker and they began to giggle.
I guess I never realized how greedy they were until that moment.
Chapter Three – Bada Boy
Ten minutes later, we had crossed the tracks to the bad part of town. We pulled up to a warehouse-like building that had about twenty cars parked outside. Over the door was a small sign that said, "Bada Bing, Bada Boy."
Huh?
Rather than use the main entrance, Mom led us into the office door, where we were greeted by a large, ape-like creature, who inquired as to the nature of our business.
"We have an appointment with Mr. Anthony Alto," my confident mother said.
The ape excused himself and returned moments later to escort us into a faux-wood-paneled office with cheap furnishings and a very large man.
"Mrs. Adams, Mrs. Baker. So kind of you to bring Misty and Sherry."
Misty and Sherry?
"You were right, Mrs. A," Alto said. "They’re lookers." He was staring at us as a cheetah observes a gazelle. "Can I see what they’ve got?"
"Of course, Mr. Alto," Mom said. "Girls. Pull your panties down and hold your skirts up for Mr. Alto."
Girls? Panties down? For Mr. Alto?
Hot fear gripped me. I looked over at Warren. He was quivering, but his peener was very stiff. Oh my. Mine was too.
"They can be such twits, Mr. Alto," Mom said. "You know how sissies are."
Sissies?
Alto nodded sagely. "They don’t know why they’re here, do they, Mrs. Adams?"
Mom considered lying, but then admitted that we didn’t.
Alto nodded again. "That’s OK. They’re pretty enough. We can train them. But we can’t do that if they won’t even listen to you."
Mom got the hint.
"Listen, ‘girls.’ Mr. Alto runs this beautiful gentlemen’s club, frequented by some of our town’s leading citizens. Unlike the old clubs that had half-naked and fully naked women dancing, this one has beautiful sissies. Ever since the popularity of ‘Panty Boy’ magazine, men’s love for sissies is starting to come out of the closet. And you would be part of a big, new trend and would make LOTS of money. Wouldn’t that be nice? Now GET THOSE PANTIES OFF AND HOLD YOUR SKIRTS UP!"
Warren and I were terrified, but what choice did we have? Tearfully, I shimmied my panties down to mid-thigh and watched Warren do the same. We were both really sobbing when we held our skirts up."
"See Mr. Alto," Mrs. Baker said, "They’re crying like real sissies, but they’re excited too."
It was true. I was stiff as a penalty for early IRA withdrawal.
Alto moved closer and inspected us very thoroughly.
"Very nice," he said. "Now take off everything except stockings, garters and heels."
Warren and I began to blubber loudly.
Mom’s voice cut like a serrated blade. "You heard the man. Strip!"
Again, we had no choice. I didn’t want to sleep with the fishes. Or the customers in that loony bin either. Warren and I stripped. I sneaked a peek or two at Warren. He was still rampant, but like me, his package was small and pink. And still erect. In front of our mothers. And this, this hoodlum.
We stood there covering our privates with our hands until our mothers snarled them away.
Mr. Alto inspected us once again. "Very nice. Very nice."
Why were my nipples erect and sore as he looked me over?
Alto looked at the mothers and said, "They’ll have to cum. They can cum, can’t they?"
The mothers had no idea, but assured Mr. Alto that we could.
Alto told the mothers, "Milk them for me."
That startled the mothers. But nothing deterred my Mom in search of a buck. She nodded to Mrs. Baker, then actually began to jerk me off. My mother was jerking me off in front of my best friend, his mom and some guy we just met. And I was in girl’s lingerie and heels. Mrs. Baker began to milk poor Warren. Oh the humiliation!
Mom had an incredibly good stroke and she had excellent patter. "Cum for your Mama, Misty, baby. Make big, sweet gooies for me. Mama needs 100 new pairs of shoes. You’re so beautiful, Misty."
"Sherry" was getting the same treatment from his mom. I should have been limp and disgusted, but in less than four minutes, my guts wrenched, my eyes watered and I began to spurt big globs of boyjuice. Warren joined me in heaven 30 seconds later. I looked over at Alto, who smiled and said, "They’re hired."
Chapter Four – The New Job
Mom and Mrs. Baker wasted no time leaving us in the hands of Mr. Alto, who looked as if he wanted us to do unspeakable things with him and to him.
But Mom didn’t care because we were on the clock. I don’t know what I was getting paid. That was all worked out between Alto and Mom. But the big, ugly guy, who must have been Alto’s VP, human resources, had us fill out tax forms and stuff.
When that was completed, the ugly guy, whose name was Renato, took us to meet with our "shift manager," Fawn Liebowitz.
Fawn looked to be about 40. Not bad looking, but a little worse for wear. I found out later that she had been injured in a nearly fatal kiln explosion as a college sophomore and had been through extensive therapy.
Fawn was a constant smoker, which didn’t help her looks either. She dressed very trampily, but was actually pretty nice to Warren and me, considering the circumstances.
"Fresh meat, Fawn," the subtle Renato said of us. "The boss says train ‘em up and get ‘em on the floor."
They were going to put us out, dancing in front of lusting men? That day?
Oh, yes.
Fawn said to Warren, "What’s your name, Honey?"
"Warren," he said, warily.
Fawn puffed on her cigarette. "No, Honey. Your name is Sherry. You can call yourself Ignatz at home, but here you’re Sherry. OK?"
Warren nodded. He was so darned pretty. Did I look that good?
Fawn turned to me. "How about you, Sweetie? You’re a pretty one."
I blushed. Then, as much as I didn’t want to, I said, "Misty."
"That’s the spirit," Fawn said. "You girls really walk well in those heels. That’s a great start. In the next half hour or so, I’ll teach you how to dance for those homicidal thugs in the audience. Just kidding, Sherry. Don’t cry. One or two of them are very normal men. Then I’ll get you into costume and send you out. Don’t worry. You’re going to have lots of fun and make lots of money. Have either of you ever sucked cock?"
Warren and I looked at each other, then Fawn, in horror.
"I didn’t think so," she said. "So you won’t make as much money. Or maybe you will. Those men out there will go apeshit when they see you two. You’re both beautiful, you have warm, firm, young bodies and you’re virgins, right?"
We nodded.
Fawn puffed her cigarette. "Before we get started, can I milk either or both of you to relax you?"
That sounded like a surprisingly good idea. But I could never. I blushed and looked away. So did Warren.
Fawn smiled. "I didn’t think so. Well, looking at you little creampuffs has me all excited, so would you please milk me?" And she pulled her panties down, lifted her skirts and pulled out a stiff, four-and-a-half-inch penis. It was red, throbbing and dripping a sticky goo.
What kind of a loony bin were we in? I froze, but Warren stepped forward and, very tenderly touched Fawn’s cock. Fawn shuddered with pleasure. Then puffed on her cigarette. Warren began to fondle the lady’s, uh, gentleman’s, uh, Fawn’s shaft very nicely. I was getting quite hot for some reason and, not wishing the entire burden to be on Warren, I stepped forward and began to tickle Fawn’s wrinkled ball bag. She smiled at me and blew her smoke straight up. In a few moments, we had Fawn gasping as she shot her balljuice into the air and onto the floor. Warren thoughtfully procured a Kleenex, which he used to wipe Fawn’s cockhead clean.
Fawn rearranged herself in her panties, then began to instruct us on our first dance. I had very little rhythm, but Fawn said with my looks, it wouldn’t matter. For the thousandth time that day, I blushed.
Fawn taught us the scenario for our first dance. Every dance was like a little play. The one she picked for us was horrible. I could never do it. Fawn somehow knew I would.
Then we moved to costumes. Warren and I stripped to our lingerie, added a gold chain around our tummies, then put on little girl party dresses. The kind a girl wouldn’t wear after say, age ten. We also wore little Madeline hats and were each to hold a dolly by the arm as props. She walked us through it, wished us luck, then took us to the entrance to the runway. Two "girls" like us were just finishing up a routine. They were both entirely naked except for their stockings and heels and a gold chain around their tummies. The chain was stuffed with bills of all denominations. Lots of them! And the "girls’" tummies and privates were drenched with their cum. The girls turned to face us and I recognized Eddie Baggins, who lived three blocks from me and was about a year older. The other sissyboy I didn’t recognize, but they were both VERY pretty, incredibly self-confident, and dripping of sexuality.
I looked at Warren. We could never do that or be like that, we silently agreed.
Eddie and his partner were cheered loudly as they left the runway and it was our turn.
The late Saturday afternoon crowd had increased since we came in a few hours earlier. There were about 60 patrons in the place. They were loud, horny, enthusiastic men who were eager for something to stimulate their libidos more rapidly than the $6.50-a-bottle beer was depressing them.
And Warren and I were their next victims. Playing out a dirty little play.
Alto himself stepped onto the runway and said, "The Bada Bing, Bada Boy Lounge proudly presents two brand new sissy dancers – the lovely Sherry, who turned 18 yesterday, and the sweet and beautiful Misty, who is 18 today. Gentlemen, put your hands together for little schoolgirls Misty and Sherry!"
Wild applause greeted us as we timidly walked out on the runway. We were holding hands and holding our dollies in our free hands.
I could actually hear the crowd gasp when they saw us. We were quite beautiful, clearly virginal and the little-girl dresses were reminding the men in the crowd of a lifetime of their naughty dreams.
The men were waiting for us to "do" something so we separated and began to walk around the runway, to show ourselves to the hooting, whooping maniacs.
I shouldn’t have had an erection, but I did. I looked out in the crowd and saw that the men were all looking at Sherry. The little tramp was showing the men her panties. Two minutes into our act. And you could see the outline of her hard prick and balls through the silk.
Well, I did her one better. I took my panties off! Then held my skirts up so all the men would look at me.
Sherry gave me a dirty look, then took her panties off and bent over so the men could see her pretty little bottom, but not wide enough to see the hole.
That drove them wild, until I began to stroke my pretty pricklet as I moaned.
We were warring for attention! From the pit of barbarians. I looked at Fawn in the wings. She was smoking and smiling, knowingly.
A man in the front row was waving a $100 bill at me. I stepped forward and he hooked it into my panties, which were at mid-thigh. My first tip, and a big one. Top that, Sherry!
Sherry and I decided to get back to the scenario. We met in the center of the runway and began kissing.
I never thought that I would be celebrating my 18th birthday by kissing my best friend in front of 60 sex-crazed men.
I enjoyed kissing Sherry very much. She was a far better kisser than my so-called girlfriend, and I loved rubbing her cock against mine as we kissed. I almost forgot where we were.
Then Sherry got behind me and faced me at the audience. She moved me near the edge of the runway. Men began to throw money at our feet as Sherry stroked my cock and kissed my neck. I held my skirts up so all the men could see my little peeny get skinned so lovingly. I hoped that the men in the front row were wearing raincoats because I could feel a big…..oh…..it was fantastic…..those men wanting me…..Sherry’s hand……..my pretty dress………the stockings………"Ahhhhhhh," I groaned as I spurted my cream all over the men in the front rows.
They loved it! Most of them scooped it off themselves, then licked it off their fingers.
Following along with Fawn’s scenario, I kissed Sherry some more, then turned her to face the crowd. Then I gently pushed first one, then two fingers into her perfect bottomhole. Sherry’s little squeal when I did that almost set the smoke detectors off. A hush settled on the room. The men wanted to hear every noise Sherry made as I fingerfucked her. I wasn’t very good at it, but didn’t need to be. Sherry was en fuego with lust. Her little squeals and moans made the men rub their cocks through their pants, and several of them went home with massive crotchy wetness.
When she came, Sherry’s scream and hurricane-force cum jets brought the crowd to its feet. Mr. Alto was even smiling.
For the next part of the show, Sherry and I stripped each other to our lingerie. Then Sherry took my bra off and began to kiss and lick my nipples. Who knew that would make me cum so hard and so quickly? The crowd loved it, and that time, I got the standing O.
I was actually enjoying myself as much as anyone who was permanently, irrevocably, ruined for life could enjoy a situation like that. I loved cumming. I loved making love to Warren/Sherry. And for some ridiculous reason, I liked being a sex object for 60 horny men.
Where did that come from?
But my humiliation, fear and shame were mightier than my good feelings that day.
The crowd was cheering for me to "Show us your pussy!" by which, I presume they meant my delicate anus.
I was considering whether I should do that for a row of men waving large bills at me, when suddenly, things got worse.
My eyes had gotten adjusted to the lighting and I was able to make out some of the faces in the crowd. There was Mr. Steel, my history teacher. Oh no. How could I ever go back to school? And Eric Wilson, who sat next to me in chemistry class. And Mr. Jennings, our 60-ish next-door neighbor, who was yelling more loudly for a view of my pussy than anyone in the place.
I looked at Sherry. The enormity of our exposure was catching up to her as well.
But then a certain calm came over me. I was already so far down the path that all returns had been cut off. I may as well move forward.
Sherry seemed to come to the same conclusion.
We stood up, hugged and kissed for a moment, then turned our bottoms to the crowd and spread our pretty buttcheeks. The place exploded with cheers and the stage was bathed in cash. We blew kisses to the crowd, picked up our money, bending at the waist and wiggling our bottoms at the patrons as we did so.
Then we sissied off the stage amid tumultuous acclaim.
Our debut as little sissy faggots was a huge success. For our mothers. Sherry and I counted $922, which Mr. Alto confiscated. He took 25% and put the rest in sealed, marked envelopes for our mothers. Why was he so worried about their interests? Could they be granting him favors?
No.
Chapter Five – Sherry and me
Alto sent us home after that. He said he didn’t want the customers to get tired of us right away. We were more than happy to leave, but our loving moms weren’t there to take us home. So we would have to walk two miles in our huge heels. And girl’s clothes.
At first we were too ashamed to even talk to each other. Sherry, I mean Warren, no, mean Sherry, was sniffling as we walked. But I told her that it was the kind of thing that we should have expected from our mothers.
"You’re right, Misty," she said. "At least I got to have some wonderful fun with you. You’re beautiful."
She was so sweet. I felt urges for her I didn’t know I had.
By the time we had walked half a mile, my feet were sore and I didn’t know if I could walk all the way home in those heels. Worse, we had left the warehouse area where Bada Boy was and were back in the residential area. People were looking at us. Men. Staring. Hotly.
Just then, Mr. Jennings, my neighbor, pulled up in his pick-up and offered us a ride. He was a very welcome sight. I had known Mr. Jennings all my life, so I wasn’t afraid to sit in the middle of the truck’s cab. Between Sherry and Mr. Jennings.
"You girls were incredible," Mr. Jennings said as we settled in.
I blushed. For some reason, I loved the praise.
I wasn’t used to wearing a skirt and my mini was above my stockings tops. I could see that Mr. Jennings had noticed.
We drove silently and were home in three minutes. We thanked Mr. Jennings again and, for some reason, I kissed him on his cheek for being nice.
He really liked that and, unless my vision is failing, his cock got very hard.
"I’ll drive you girls to and from Bada Boy anytime. Just tell me," he said.
I looked at Sherry. The power! Men were already doing things for us. But what would we have to do in return?
I kissed Sherry goodbye, as her house was four doors farther. Then I went into the house.
Mom noticed me. "How much did you make?" she said. Not, how are you after that near-death experience.
I told her $345.75 and she smiled. "And more tomorrow," she said.
When I got to my room, all my boy clothes were gone, replaced by sissy, girlish gear.
I was doomed.
Maybe I could leave home. I was old enough. But I didn’t have a dime. And I wasn’t earning anything, not even enough to buy a Coke.
Maybe I would think of something.
Or maybe Dad would put his foot down with Mom. Or monkeys would fly out of my butt.
My immediate plan was to eat something, then cry myself to sleep before my next scheduled shift at Bada Boy, which was right after Sunday mass.
But Mom had other plans for me.
"Dad has that business dinner tonight and Mrs. Baker and I are going out to dinner."
Good, I thought. The last thing I wanted was Mom giving me tips on how to get more money from the customers. I was pretty sure I knew what that would involve.
Then she brightened things considerably by saying, "But your girlfriend Sherry will be spending the night with you. Just the two of you. In your pretty nighties. In your big, double bed."
Wow! Now that could be interesting.
Mom left around six. She was awfully dolled up for a night out with Sherry’s mom. Her heels were awfully high and her skirt was awfully short. Hmmmm.
Sherry arrived at 6:01, carrying a pink travel bag and pretty as a picture.
I was shocked at how horny I was for someone, who eight hours ago I had only known as a boy.
Living with Mom made one fatalistic, I guessed. So I seemed to have accepted my fate, at least for the foreseeable future.
My immediate future, say until the next morning, looked very rosy.
"You’re very pretty, Sherry," I said. "Those men at Bada Boy were very hot for you."
"Oh, you’re much prettier, Misty. Those lips! Those eyes!"
Apparently, praise about a sissy’s looks is a powerful aphrodisiac, because before we knew it, Sherry and I were on the couch in a full, kissing clinch, excavating each other’s mouths with our tongues.
I was on fire with lust. Sherry was gasping and her skin was burning with excitement. The little doll reached under my skirt and began tugging at my panties.
I helped her by removing them.
Seconds later, Sherry was on the floor on her stockinged knees, kissing my little peeny and exciting me in a way I never thought possible. When she took my cockhead in her mouth, I thought that maybe Mom’s idea had its good points. Not that she cared.
Sherry was a surprisingly good cocksucker. I had no basis for comparison, but it felt wonderful. She swirled her tongue all over the knob, polishing it to a drooling sheen. I was making little sissy grunts and then I felt the first pang warning that a spermstorm had been sighted off starboard. As the storm approached, my grunts turned to little squeals. Sherry began to fondle my little balls as she licked me. My eyes began to water. My nipples hardened. And I began to ejaculate helplessly, all over the sweet sissy’s pretty face.
Sherry grunted with pleasure as the hot goo doused her nose and forehead. Then began to lick me clean. Drawing her up to join me on the couch, I returned the favor, licking my own cum off her pretty features.
I guessed that the ice was broken. Actually, more like a glacier cracking.
I led Sherry up to my bedroom and we undressed to our lingerie. Keeping our big heels on seemed sexy, so we did.
Sherry and I kissed for a long time. She was delicious. Warm and submissive to my love as I was to hers. When I entered her tight bottom with my right middle finger, her pretty eyes opened very wide. I added another finger, then knelt on the bed and took her hard cock into my warm, wet mouth. Sherry really loved having her pretty thing sucked. She arched her back and squealed very loudly as I continued to frig her bottomhole. She shuddered with pleasure, then filled my mouth with her precious cream. It was delicious. And completely intimate. Our friendship as boys could never compare to what we were feeling for each other as sissies.
When the angel returned to earth, we held each other and talked about our future, both at Bada Boy and as girls at school and around town. It was scary, but we would see it through together.
I felt so close to Sherry at that moment that I wanted to eat her girlish pussy to reach an even higher level of intimacy. I lay on my back, then had her reverse on me and lower her pretty pussy to my lips.
Oh how the little doll loved being eaten out! She was overcome by lust as I dug and licked and sucked and kissed her tight bottomhole. I heard her squealing almost constantly and discovered when my carnal meal was over that she had drenched my chest with three big loads of her Grade A sissy cream.
When I mercifully stopped, Sherry stayed in position and gave me the blowjob of a lifetime. I took her balls into my mouth and sucked them lovingly as she extracted a gallon of my sticky juice from my little, wrinkled bag
It was 9 p.m. and we were exhausted. We got naked and took a lovely, kissing and fondling shower together, then into the nighties our Mom’s had left for us.
Oh, my. The nighties were diaphanous and VERY short. And the sight of each other in them had Sherry and me all excited again.
Sherry insisted on eating me out and I screamed so loud and for so long that little kids in the neighborhood asked their Moms if it was Halloween. And I blew gooies like a cum fountain.
We were both so loose and wet "back there." It seemed that maybe something would fit right in there and feel really good. But somehow it didn’t seem right for one of us to be the first to pork the other’s bottom. But who would?
Sherry was such a little cum hog that she woke me twice and sucked me off. Being a former gentleman, I gave her equal comfort.
The next morning, my room smelled like Orgy Room 3 at Plato’s Retreat, but we each felt better about things.
Mom popped in at seven a.m. sniffed the air and said, "I sense you had a fun evening. Sherry, dear, you’ll want to go home and get dressed for Mass. We’ll see you there."
Sherry and I openly kissed goodbye. A hot steamy kiss, with my hands on her bottom. Mom smiled.
Dad was home, Mom said, and was going to Mass with us. Both were a surprise. I scooted up to my room to get dressed, since I didn’t want Dad’s first view of me as a girl to be in a cummy, see-through, pink nightie.
I took a lot of time to get ready, settling on a pretty white dress with tan stockings and white, five-inch heels.
I walked downstairs and was quite pleased to see Dad’s eyes bug out when he saw me.
"You look gorgeous, Richie, I mean Misty," Dad said.
I blushed.
"When your mother told me about the gender issues you’ve been working through and how your therapist recommended dressing as a girl full time and even working at that Bada Something place, I was shocked."
So was I. Mom sure could tell a good lie. I could call her on it in front of Dad, but I preferred to live another day or two.
Dad continued. "But I assured Mom that I would support you on this completely."
That sealed it. He never broke a promise to Mom. Even when she was lying through her teeth.
Still, things could be worse. Twenty-four hours ago my life was a total bore and going nowhere. At that time, I was leading a very exciting life that was going somewhere.
But where?
Chapter Six – Colleagues
I got a lot of stares at Mass that morning. Even Father Fagan seemed to be staring at my legs half the time and at Sherry’s the other half.
To the few people who were brave enough to ask, Mom gave them the "working through gender issues" baloney.
Then she hustled me home so Sherry and I could meet Mr. Jennings for the ride to Bada Boy.
It was with some dread that I went to Bada Boy that day. Sherry sat in the middle next to Mr. Jennings and he seemed very happy to be near her. A real gentleman. I wondered what his cock tasted like. Why did I think that?
We went in the staff entrance, found Fawn, and reported for work.
Through a fog of smoke, Fawn coughed out our instructions, then sent us back to the common dressing room we were to share with the other "dancers."
Eddie Baggins, whose self-confidence had impressed me the previous day, was putting on his make-up and chatting with the doll who had partnered with him the day before.
"Hi, Eddie," I said. "You’re very pretty."
Eddie smiled. "Thanks, Richie. Or Misty, is it?"
I nodded. "And Warren is Sherry."
Eddie smiled at Sherry. "I’m Candace and this is Leila. Welcome to Bada Boy."
We all hugged and I noticed for the first time that Candace was naked below the waist. And quite rampant. I blushed.
Candace chuckled. "I’m sorry, girls. I seem to be excited all the time nowadays. I love being a sissy and I adore working here. The pay is great. The girls are sweet. And the men! Oh."
What did she mean about the men? I asked. "The men?"
"Oh, yes, Honey. They’re incredible! Leila and I have had a hot sissy love affair for months, but it’s the men we really love. Single men taking us to their bachelor pads, putting us on their beds on our backs. Climbing on us and fucking us until we cum and cum and cum. Married men, sneaking us into motel rooms, putting us on all fours and fucking us, then telling us how their wives don’t understand them. Then fucking us again. Men taking us into dark corners to kiss us and fondle us. And sucking men’s cocks. Cock after cock spurting gallons of manly goo. Men eating our pussies until we think we can’t cum any more, then fucking us to prove we’re wrong. It’s a great life, girls."
Leila nodded in agreement and smiled.
My mouth hung open. That was our fate? I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. Could I? Would I?
The dressing room door opened and the sissies who just finished their set came in, giggling and chattering. The tall blonde with a sweet smile was wearing tan stockings and the highest, skimpiest, high-heeled mules I had ever seen. And that was all. Her thighs were drenched with cum and her drooping cock was dripping the residue of her recent ecstasy. Her companion, a five-foot six inch beauty with long, brunette tresses and a face that was three parts nice girl and one part naughty girl, was wearing a tiny nightie that exposed her suckable, flat-chested nipples and her delicious pink cock and balls.
"Hi," the blonde dream-come-true said. "You must be Misty and Sherry. I’m Angelica."
"And I’m Tina," the raven-haired babe said. "Welcome to Bada Bing, Bada Boy. You’ll love it here."
I doubted that, but the sissies were sweet and spectacular.
Sherry felt compelled to ask. "Does everyone cum every time you go out there?"
Tina smiled. "I never plan to, but my little doodle gets very excited rubbing up against my partner and accepting all the adoration and money. It’s very erotic. Don’t you and Misty make each other hot?"
Sherry and I thought about the previous night and blushed.
Tina said, I thought so. Then she and Angelica hugged us. My woodie was back and throbbing.
Angelica laughed. "See? You do like it here."
Sherry and I liked each other. A lot. We liked our fellow sissies. But the men?
I asked. "Does Mr. Alto make you suck his cock?"
Everyone except Sherry and I giggled. "I’m afraid not," Candace said. "Alto is gay as a caballero and he only has eyes for Renato. Gay men have no use for sissies. Only hetero men lust for us. And the feeling is mutual."
Sherry asked, "How many sissies dance at Bada Boy?"
Candace answered, "There are about twelve full-time and eight or nine part-time dancers. All pretty and all horny for men. And each other. We get together now and then for, uh, exchanges and stuff. Would you girls be ‘up’ for that?"
A room full of pretty sissies all hungry for our cream seemed awfully appealing to me. I nodded. I was still wary of the men, however."
Then Renato appeared at the door. "Staci and Bambi will be done with their set in ten minutes. Sherry and Misty had better get dressed for theirs."
Oh my. Another set. Debasing ourselves under the lustful gazes of a room full of uncouth, hairy men. Exposing our private intimacies to them. Cumming as they watched. I shuddered with mixed emotions.
Sherry and I quickly got into our "costumes," touched up our faces, and stood in the wings watching Bambi, who was wearing a small black cami, seamed black stockings and six-inch fuck me pumps, on her knees and sucking the little cocklet of Staci, who was wearing white mules, stockings, garter belt and teddy. Staci’s face was glazed with cum and Bambi’s was about to be.
A Sunday-afternoon crowd of about 100 men had eschewed football to watch the two gorgeous creampuffs suck each other to squealing ecstasy. I saw that several of the men in the crowd had removed their cocks from their trousers and, too overcome by lust to be embarrassed, were stroking them to messy conclusions.
How was such activity allowed? Even in places like New York, San Francisco and Fromage, the on-stage sex was only simulated. Then I got my answer. In the front row, in uniform, mind you, was Chief Pyle, the town’s chief of police since his discharge from the Marines some 30 years ago. The chief was stroking his big meat and saying,
"Gollllleee!" all too frequently.
Staci’s pink, dangly balls contracted. She squealed. Cum leaped from her sweet pricklet and drenched her lover Bambi’s beautiful face. The crowd went wild. Chief Pyle spurted his goo with his right hand and threw a fistful of paper money on the stage with his left.
The sissies picked up their money, bending at the waist and showing their lovely "pussies" to their admirers as they harvested cash. Then they blew kisses to the men to tumultuous applause and joined us. How could we top that?
We only had time to nod at the delicious duo as they smiled at us. Our music came up and we entered the stage.
The crowd whooped with joy when they saw us. Sherry and I were in classic, Catholic-school-girl outfits. Plaid jumpers with white blouses. White knee socks. Mary Janes with a one-and-a-half-inch heel. Our hair was adorned with pink ribbons and we were carrying book bags.
Very naughtily, I lifted my skirt to the audience and showed my white cotton panties. The crowd exploded and rained money on the stage. I blushed. My cock was threatening to rip my panties apart.
Sherry and I dropped our book bags and kissed each other chastely. Then with ever increasing heat. Sherry reached under my skirts and pulled my panties down to mid-thigh. She began to massage my clitty (did I really call it that?) and, even though the audience couldn’t see under my skirts, they loved the action.
Sherry stopped stroking me and unzipped my jumper, pulling it over my head. Then I removed my blouse, revealing my little-girl undershirt, which was my only other undergarment.
The crowd gasped. And paid attention as I removed Sherry’s jumper and blouse. We then began to kiss in earnest. Our panties were down and off and we were tonguing each other’s mouths in open, fiery lust.
I felt Sherry’s wet cock tip rub against my own, creating heavenly sensations. We weren’t supposed to cum so early in the performance, but I couldn’t……..Ahhhhhh. Oh. I began to spurt my hot cream all over my lover’s tummy, triggering a sympathetic gut-wrencher from sweet Sherry. What a mess!
I stole a peek at the crowd and saw that about a quarter of the patrons had their big rammers out and were lost in a masturbatory stupor. The others were showering us with money and encouragement to continue.
Improvising, I found a dry spot on the floor and got to my knees, saying audibly, "You’re all messy, Sherry. Let me clean you before we go to Sister Perpetua’s math class."
Then I licked all the cum from Sherry’s drenched privates and tummy. But I went a bit too far. Licking her pretty peener got her so excited that she was all stiffied again. A condition that I relieved by sucking her to a crowd-enthralling cum.
Sherry kissed me like a starving wolf, then stood me facing the crowd, in only my hair ribbons, make-up, little-girl undershirt, white knee socks and Mary Janes. Sherry stood behind me. She kissed my neck and told me she loved me as she rubbed all the cum that was all over me around and around my cocklet and ball bag. My red lips were parted and I even had enough showmanship to lock eyes with various audience members and make kissing motions in their directions. One poor fellow, oh my goodness, was that Mr. Kenyon, my junior-high science teacher, spurted a big glob of cream when I made a kiss at him. Then another glob. Sherry and I were driving the men wild.
And Sherry was driving me wild. She sank to her knees and, still rubbing my sticky cum around and around my clitty, began to lick and adore my perfect asshole.
I was only able to endure that for about two minutes, after which I screamed Sherry’s name and spurted my girlish cream in thick ropes onto the front-row customers, who whooped happily and licked it up. Then showered us with money yet again.
Sherry and I brought the house down as we picked up our money and exposed ourselves to the Bada Boy patrons.
We waved, blew kisses and ran off the stage clutching our mothers’ money. That we earned. And they would get.
Hmmmm.
Sherry and I did two more sets that day, finishing at around seven. Since we were still in high school, there were laws about how many hours we could work and Alto was keeping strict adherence to law.
We had cum several times and were pretty tired, but exhilarated from the adoration of our audience.
When Sherry and I got to the dressing room, we found Candace and Leila naked and in a hot clinch. Embarrassed at intruding on their lovemaking, we began to leave, when a steamed-up Candace suggested we join them.
That was a very hot idea.
Candace peeled herself off Leila and rubbed her delicious, sissy body against mine. Her tongue found my throat and, despite lots of previous exercise, my penis was stiff and red yet again. Sherry was sitting on a vanity stool as a kneeling Leila lovingly licked Sherry’s flaming cockhead.
Candace was an outstanding kisser and knew how to rub a sissycock. I fingerfucked her sweet pootie and kissed her as we both poured out creamy emissions. Sherry and Leila were writhing and cumming on the other side of the dressing room.
As Candace and I enjoyed sweet, post-orgasmic kissing, she said, "That was nice. But excuse me, Honey. I have an appointment in the back room."
The back room?
Candace said, "Alto didn’t tell you about the back room? It’s where you can earn a lot of money off the books. Away from your mothers. With men."
I almost came on the spot. Candace was going into a room to be fucked by one of the patrons. For money. Lots of it, apparently. Money she could keep. For fucking. With a man.
Candace said, "Don’t be scared. It’s lots of fun and the men behave themselves. But not too much. Even when I’ve been cumming all day from dancing, the men in the back room take me to cummy paradise again and again. And I can make $500 to $1,000 in an hour. And so can you. Oh, Sweetie, look. You’re all excited. Let me suck that excitement out of you."
Candace licked and sucked my cock for a few moments as I thought about dark corners and hot men. My goo was all over her pretty lips in a very short time. We kissed. I fixed my make-up, dressed, gathered up Sherry and our driver, Mr. Jennings, and we left.
I sat in the middle of the pickup cab on the way home and took Mr. Jennings’ cock from his pants. I told him how sweet it was of him to drive us as I stroked him to a spurting, shuddering climax. Then I kissed the grateful man and Sherry and I got out and went into our homes.
When I produced my share of the day’s activities, $633, Mom smiled. She actually got me cookies and milk. Probably to keep my sperm count up.
Exhausted, I dropped off to sleep.
Chapter Seven – Popular at last
It was with intense, searing fear that Sherry and I, dressed in minis, stockings and big heels, attended school that next day.
No one ever seemed to notice us as boys. As girls, we were the hottest news of the day.
We were the first two kids at Manson High School to be out and open about being sissies. And our status as dancers at Bada Boy, contrary to our fears of dismemberment by an angry mob, made us celebrities. Almost every boy we saw leered at us. And wanted to make hot love to us. And the teachers were no better.
In history class, Mr. Steel, whom I had spotted in the Bada Boy audience on both Saturday and Sunday, was very distracted. Perhaps my presence in the front row and my constant crossing and recrossing of my long, stockinged legs was upsetting him. It was certainly making him stiff. The other kids noticed his lumpy trousers and giggled.
The strangest part of that Monday was that the girls had suddenly discovered Sherry and me as well. Phoebe Caulfield, whose older brother Holden was a friend, was sort of throwing herself at me. Holden had been thrown out of a few prep schools in the east and was back in our town for his senior year. Phoebe, who had never given me a look, seemed to want my body very badly.
Phoebe was very dishy. I was very horny. Her parents didn’t get home until seven. I walked her home. We were in bed, in our lingerie and rolling and kissing moments later.
What an experience. I had never fucked a girl, but that one was all over me. She couldn’t get enough of me. The kissing was hot, the pussy was wet and I soon had my sissycock in her sopping muffy.
Oh. That was nice. My cock loved being immersed in Phoebe’s sweet pit. My girlish appearance and boyish cock had Phoebe in an orgasmic vortex. We fucked three times in 90 minutes and my cock was rubbed raw.
When I called Sherry later, she reported a similar experience with Allison McKenzie, a hot little piece of quiff whom we could only have fantasized about before we became sissy celebrities.
On Tuesday, I sampled Allison’s goodies and Sherry screwed not only Phoebe’s front door, but also her "servant’s entrance" in the rear. Life was good.
On Wednesday, we were scheduled for two sets at Bada Boy. And, if we were adventurous enough, some time in the back room.
Chapter Eight – Men
Sherry and I were actually looking forward to our two sets at Bada Boy that night. Mr. Jennings drove us once again and Sherry gave his cock the nicest hand job then a sweet kiss on his lips. He was eager to drive us home. Or anywhere.
Fawn was there, smoking as ever. And she prepped us for our performance. Sherry and I wore big heels and black lingerie including a teddy that exposed our nipples. We were to spend a lot of time sensuously licking each other’s nipples in full view of our admirers. Each of us was also to invite a man on stage to lick our nipples, but we were not to touch his cock or even kiss him.
That was fun. Sherry drove me wild with her nipple licking. Then I picked a very distinguished, well-dressed gentleman, who came up on stage and made Sherry’s titty-licking seem amateurish indeed. The man knew how to tease and please a nipple. I was gasping and panting and when he began to skin my prickie up and down, I gave the sweet man’s hand a huge load of my cum. The gentleman unashamedly licked it off his hand to the roar of the crowd, then took his seat.
Sherry, the big teaser, picked Mr. Steel, the history teacher, who fumbled a bit at first, but then acquitted himself quite well as a nipple licker and sissycock tickler.
For our finale, Sherry and I got onto a cot on stage and entered a furious 69, ending with glazed, happy faces for us both.
The crowd adored us. And we adored them. It was time to interact with them a bit more.
After our second set, Alto said that the well-dressed gentleman I had offered my nipples to had requested the pleasure of my company in the back room. The man from Sherry’s second set, also well-dressed, handsome and fifty-something, had requested Sherry’s company. Each was offering $1,000, after whatever cut Alto had arranged for himself. And Alto would give it to us directly – no mothers involved.
Lead us to it, we said.
The "back room" was actually a set of six private, motel-style rooms, each with a private bath. Very nice and clean. Whoever built Bada Boy planned well.
My man, Mr. Quinn, was waiting for me in the room, sitting on a chair.
Little tramp that I was, I went over and sat in his lap. I was dressed all in white lingerie and heels and I would summarize my appearance as "yummy."
It was delightful to be a girl sitting in a man’s lap. Especially when he said, "You’re very beautiful, Misty, Dear."
I smiled and said, "Thank you, Mr. Quinn." And then I kissed him.
He was an excellent kisser. Very caring and loving and sweet. And he was very manly. I felt warm and cuddled and protected.
Mr. Quinn embraced me, but he didn’t fondle me or take unasked liberties. It was time I gave him his $1,000-worth.
My little doodle was stiff and throbbing. I said, "You’re a great kisser, Mr. Quinn. See how excited you made me?" And I pulled down my panties for him. The man’s eyes ignited. Shyly, at first, he touched my flaming woodie. He had nice, warm, manly hands. He played with it very nicely and began to kiss me again, a bit more warmly than he did before.
I was gasping and whimpering and we were both pretty excited. Then my loverman asked me to stand on my big heels and face him, as he wanted to suck my clitty and swallow my cream.
Mmmmm. Good plan.
He was a pretty darn good cocksucker. The best in my limited experience. And he really enjoyed his work.
I enjoyed his work too, and let him know with my grunts and squeals. When he reached around and rubbed my anus with his fingertip as he sucked me, I felt the first warning pang. When he sucked my sensitive little grapes, I began to gooey all over the poor man's face. He hurriedly capped my gusher with his mouth and swallowed the last four spurts, seeming to savor the taste as one would a fine wine.
That was fun. I told him so.
Mr. Quinn was enraptured by me. He adored me. It was very heady stuff for a young sissy. He laid me on the bed as he undressed himself all the way to a very nice nude, then joined me for some deep, delicious kissing.
I stroked his cock with my girlish fingers as we kissed. Then, at his request, I straddled his shoulders facing his feet, and lowered my bottomhole onto his mouth.
My plan was to suck his lovely cock as he licked my "dirty," but he was so good at "pussy" eating that all I could think of was my own intense, addictive pleasure. His hot tongue probed the outer limits of carnality and made me cum twice without friction on my sissycock. I was crying and sobbing with lust as he brought me to a third hard stand.
Abruptly, he eased me off him and placed two big pillows in position. He asked me to lie on my back, with those pillows under my hips, then asked me to kiss and wet his big weapon with my mouth.
Oh, gladly!
The wonderful man was going to fuck me! His cock was delicious. The first man’s meat I had tasted. His goo was leaking and I was happily swirling it around with my tongue when he stopped me. He kissed me sweetly, then said, "You’re a perfect angel and we’re going to visit heaven together."
Oh.
Mr. Quinn covered me with his hairy, manly body. I was trapped! Too late now. I was helpless and about to be fucked. Mmmmm. I hoped Sherry was having as perfect a time as I was.
My lover rubbed his wet peehole on my loose, sopping tulip. Then he pushed.
I cried out! In joy. As my bottom accepted its first manly visitor. I squealed and begged for all of his cock as he filled me with meaty love. The sweet man was working hard for his pleasure and my own. Pushing in, easing back. Rubbing. Grunting. Kissing me and telling me how lovable I was. I was enjoying it all. The lovely man even skinned my doodle as he fucked me, making me cum twice more before his magic moment began.
Mr. Quinn seemed to cum for a long time. He certainly soaked my little pootie. His cum was oozing out of my bottom well into that night. It was heaven on earth.
When he reluctantly withdrew, we kissed for a very long time. What kind of sissy would I be if I left my man all dirty? His cock was very messy, but I licked all the yuckies off, polished the knob, then swallowed all the sperm from his second, even more intense orgasm, so he wouldn’t go home all dirty.
When Mr. Quinn suggested a clean-up, farewell-for-then shower, I eagerly agreed. I was pleasantly amazed when the randy chap managed another woodie and gave me an excellent standup fuck under the warm water spray.
I wanted to see him again really soon.
We kissed goodbye and he went home to his wife and kids with an empty ball bag, a limp cock and a memory he would always cherish. See what good things sissies offer to humanity?
I got dressed and met Sherry and Mr. Jennings for the ride home. Sherry and I were bubbling with excitement and news about our men and how much we enjoyed them. Sherry’s "date," Mr. Mills, a major bank president in our town, practically asked Sherry to marry him. Which would have been difficult for Mr. Mills to explain to Mrs. Mills and the seven Mills kids.
It was my turn to thank Mr. Jennings for the ride, so I sucked his very nice cock to a blaster of a cum as he took the long way home. He was so sweet and he had helped us before we were sissy superstars. Which was how we thought of ourselves at that moment.
Chapter Nine – Boys?
Sherry and I didn’t have another set at Bada Boy until Friday, two whole days away! Our little pussies were sore from being stretched by mannish meat, but they itched for more.
At school the day after Men 101, Sherry and I sort of flirted with a couple of our classmates. And they flirted back.
Travis Bickel and I had known each other most of our lives. He didn’t have much ambition and would probably end up as a taxi driver or something, but I always liked him. Now that I was a sissy, I saw him very differently.
When I saw Travis in the hall that day, I said hi to him.
"You talkin’ to me?" he said. "You must be talkin’ to me. Nobody else is here."
Travis is such a kidder. "Yes, Travis," I said.
"Is that you under there, Richie?"
"I’m not Richie anymore, Travis. I’m Misty. Richie wouldn’t do this, would he?" And I kissed him.
There were lots of things he could have done. Some of them quite bad for me.
I took his hands on my ass and his tongue in my mouth as good signs.
I gasped, "Not here, Travis, you impetuous boy! Meet me at my house after school."
Travis eagerly agreed.
I told Sherry later that day in school that it seemed so weird. "When we were being boys, all we did was look at girls we couldn’t have. Now it’s like being in a candy store with a charge account."
Sherry giggled. "I know. All the girls AND boys want us now. And they all want to fuck. I have a confession, Misty. I prefer boys and men now. Girls are OK, but their bullshit is almost not worth it."
"I know, Sweetie." I said. "Me too. It’s wonderful to be adored as a man’s princess, isn’t it? But let’s not forget our love for other sissies. Especially you, my sissy angel."
Sherry hugged me, then gave me a tonguey kiss. If we hadn’t been in school, it would have gotten cummy.
Sherry also took advantage of our day off from dancing by scheduling a date. But with Mr. Mills, who promised to enrich her bank account (at his bank, of course) by another thousand dollars.
"Mr. Mills says I’m all he thinks about," she said. "It’s very flattering. And very naughty."
Why didn’t I think of that with Mr. Quinn? I guess I wanted to see what sex would be like with someone who got an erection every ten minutes.
That afternoon, I found out. We only had two hours before Mom and Dad came home, but Travis fucked me four times. And I swallowed two other loads. Wow! I came so many times I almost lost count.
Still, I was a sissy and I was finding out that that meant I liked men much more than boys. Particularly rich ones who could ensure my future. A future away from Mom.
Chapter Ten – In a groove
The next few months were among the best in my life. Sherry and I danced every Wednesday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday at Bada Boy. Fawn Liebowitz taught us some actual dance steps and our shows got better.
Sherry and I had all the sex we could handle. We were both fucking our "Daddies’" brains out and loving all the sex, love and attention. The money wasn’t bad either.
By March of our senior year, Mom had made more than $38,000 from my efforts at Bada Boy. My cut was $100 in a Christmas envelope. What Mom didn’t know was that had more than $53,000 in the bank from my sexual delights with Mr. Quinn. Along with about half that much again in gifts of exquisite jewelry.
Mr. Quinn couldn’t get enough of me and I loved him deeply as well. He was a fantastic lover who worshiped everything about me. I had taken to calling him "Daddy" and every time I did, his cock hardened.
The inevitable happened when he asked me to stop dancing and said he would set me up in a beautiful apartment, which I would own, with all taxes and fees paid in advance for 40 years. I also would receive $3,000 per week for life through and unbreakable trust. All I would have to do would be to make time for Mr. Quinn three days or nights each week. The rest of my time was mine.
Did I take the deal?
Oh yes. And I fucked my lawyer in payment for his thorough review.
Sherry got a similar deal from Mr. Mills, quit Bada Boy and moved out two weeks earlier that I did. Good for her.
One of the great moments of my life occurred as I left for my last night at Bada Boy. I told Mom I was going to be a kept sissy and her gravy train had left the station. I smiled to myself as I saw Mom’s catatonic stare.
That night. I told Mr. Jennings as he drove me to work. I gave him the sweetest blowjob, but he was crying. I hugged him and told him to stop by my new apartment for a good shagging two or three times a week. Just call first.
Fawn hugged me emotionally as I went out for my last set. Mr. Quinn was picking me up after the show and taking me to my place. MY place.
I had been working with Candace since Sherry quit and she was one hot sissy.
Candace and I were to go out in tiny babydolls, stockings, garters and huge heels, steam up the audience, then spray them with cum.
Can do, I told Fawn. Then gave her a farewell suck-off.
Candace and I entered the stage and were greeted by fanatic applause. We began to kiss and dance and fondle and then I saw something very strange.
There, in the front row, center, was my real Dad! The one I grew up with, you know. He was watching every move I made and, oh my goodness, he had his cock out and was stroking it.
I wanted the set to be over, but Candace was a trooper. She had no idea what was wrong, so she kept the act going to the point where she gets behind me, kisses my neck, puts three wiggly fingers in my pootie and then tickles my peter until I spray the audience with my sweet cream.
I usually loved that part. And so did the audience. But Candace had me standing right in front of my Dad. He was looking at me in a pre-orgasmic haze. It was humiliating to watch my father stroke himself. In front of me. Because of me.
But it made me hot too. Very hot. I couldn’t help myself. I looked at Dad as Candace loved me so nicely. I felt my balls boiling. Unnnhhhh. Dad winced. I winced, and began to spunk the audience, much to their delight. Dad took direct, facial hits from three globs. And didn’t blink. But he blew thick ropes of cum near, but not on, my high-heeled feet.
The set was over. I left my money, Mom’s money actually, on the floor for Candace to keep and walked off the stage and into the arms of my loving Mr. Quinn.
I was very happy to leave the family I had endured and form a new one. One that loved me. And begin a wonderful new life.
THE END
Thanks to Tess Alden for the idea for this story.
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