READER PLEASE NOTE:  This is a work of pure fiction based on real people, yet inevitably it will offend people because of the subject matter.  This story includes cross-dressing, bondage, and sexual experimentation by minors and you may find it offensive.  However, if you are interested in reading the thoughts and fantasies of a couple of unique young boys (one of them is me), then read on.  Either way, you've been warned!  Categories:  TG, BD, SM, femdom, pre-teen, MM.

 

What Really Happened...

by Ami Lamida

Chapter 1

 

Halloween was always my favorite holiday - though I was never brave enough to wear what I really wanted to.  I always ended up wearing traditional male costumes.  Over the years I had dressed up as a pirate, ninja, caveman, and other typically male costumes.  But the girls always wore such pretty costumes, and I was always in jealous awe of them.

Perhaps now would be a good time to explain about myself.  Since the age of five or six, I have been (literally) a closet cross-dresser.  I actually used to hide in my closet and dress in the prettiest girl clothing I could scrounge up.  I was quite a sexually active child, and from about the age of seven, I was pleasuring myself several times a day to either the thoughts or the feel of sexy female attire.  Yep, I was a very horny, and perhaps somewhat perverted, little guy.

Of course, all the sexual activity combined with the taboo of wearing female garments gave me quite a guilt complex.  I was brought up in a religious family who didn't take kindly to crossing gender barriers, much less doing it for sexual pleasure.  So not only did I have to hide my cross-dressing tendencies, I had to create a scenario in my mind where it would be okay.  The psychological conflict left me cursing myself for being who I was.  However, the answer to my conflict sort of presented itself while I was watching TV.

As most writers know, in order to create a more dramatic story, you need to create tension and conflict.  I noticed that cartoons sometimes employed capture or bondage of either the heroine or some innocent damsel as the dramatic mechanism.  Wanting to feel more like a woman, I decided to try to emulate those heroines I saw getting captured in cartoons.  The first time I got caught, I slipped on the blue super-hero tights my mom had bought me after much begging and pleading and pretended to get caught.  As I lay in my bed with my ankles bound to the footboard with my imaginary "magic lasso", I discovered that I was getting sexually excited - more than usual, that is.  I also discovered that I didn't really feel as guilty about dressing up as a girl since I was "captured".  I was no longer in control of my actions, so I felt free to enjoy my situation.  I know: only a child could follow that logic, but I was only nine, after all.

And so, getting tied up, or being in "bondage", as I learned it was called much later in life, was an essential element of my fantasy life.  Somewhere in my young mind I knew that I couldn't explain away being tied up in female clothing if my parents were to find me thus, but that fact didn't seem to matter to my young, fertile imagination.  And so it went with me all the way through high school.

Of course, there are so many ways to dress up and so many ways to get tied up, that I never became bored.  But I was lonely.  I wished that I could tell one of my friends, and find out that he or she liked bondage or cross-dressing too.  Then we could play together, and maybe I wouldn't feel like such a freak.  But alas, there is no way to ferret out other children with the same interests without some serious social risks.  I just couldn't take those risks.  Being a shy child, I was already a social misfit and couldn't handle more persecution due to my odd fetishes.

One answer to my loneliness, it seemed to me, was to be kidnapped.  But how do you get kidnapped by the right person - the one that will want to dress you like a girl and tie you up to use you for his or her pleasure?  Now pose that question to a nine-year-old, and you'll see why I realized it could never happen the way I wanted it to.  Still, I dreamed it would happen some day.  Perhaps a robber would break in while I was alone in the house, tied up in my favorite frilly clothes and the robber would take an interest.  I didn't even care what happened to me afterward.  As long as I got to live out my fantasy, the means justified the ends.  Pretty sad, huh?

Well, it was Halloween again, I was eleven, and I was doing my best caveman impression that year.  I never seemed to impress anyone else, though.  I grunted and stomped around acting very primitive, but the girls all seemed completely disinterested in my manliness.  Looking back, I think I was ignored mostly because I was so desperate for attention.  Plus, I probably did a fair bit of staring at all the prettily dressed girls even when it wasn't Halloween, so that didn't help.

That year there was an abundance of pretty costumes.  There were girls dressed as princesses in their tiaras, ruffled and gathered sleeves, petticoats, Mary Jane shoes, and those intoxicating white tights seemed to be everywhere, doing no good for my already overactive sex drive.  But this year, the girl that really captured my imagination was a girl wearing a bunny costume.  She was a few years older than me, and in a different grade, but she stood out from the rest of the girls, at least to me.  I'm sure her parents figured she was cute in her cute little bunny costume, but in my mind, I kept thinking "forget playboy bunnies - this girl is sexy!"  From the bunny ears, to the beige dance tights, to the shiny pink leotard with the fluffy tail, I was in love.  Of course, I was more in love with the outfit than the girl, but I had a hard time distinguishing between the two things at that age.

I'd never even taken notice of this girl before, but suddenly I became fixated on finding out more about her.  She was a bit older than me, but I found out that very day where she lived - the rear house in a somewhat secluded court not too far from my house.  I wandered into the neighborhood after school.  Unfortunately, she didn't go trick-or-treating and ended up inside all evening.  I was very nervous about being spotted, so I gave up trying to see her lovely curves in the pretty outfit again.  Plus, there was trick-or-treating to do.  As usual, that year I spent hours on end with my brothers ringing doorbells.  In the end I had enough candy to choke a whale.

The next day at school I kept my eyes peeled for the new love of my life, but couldn't seem to spot her.  Almost at the end of the day, I finally saw her.  The girl was dressed like a boy - not in the pretty, frilly girl clothes I expected.  I was heartbroken.  I idealized girls and thought they should all take advantage of the wonderful benefits they had - the clothes, the makeup, the gentle nature, etc.  Unfortunately, this girl was a tom-boy.  That explained why I had never noticed her before.  I liked my girls sweet and pretty - not boyish.

Well, my hopes of love were dashed, but I still entertained fantasies of getting my hands on that outfit.   She didn't seem to enjoy such pretty clothing normally, so why should she want to keep it?  Over the next few weeks, I found myself compelled to wander into her neighborhood from time to time.  I would sneak peeks at the front of her house and wonder if anyone was home.   It was hard to tell because in those days, not every mother worked and not every family had two cars.  I never really got the courage up to sneak around close to her house to find out and eventually I gave up on my silly fantasy.

Almost a year later, I had put that previous Halloween from my mind.  My mom wanted me to dress up as a pumpkin that year, and I heartily refused.  Of course, my parents never seemed to have any spare money to spend on costumes, so I often had to settle for what she could make.  If I wasn't going as a pumpkin, I was going to have to make do as a ghost.  It wasn't much of a costume - a bed sheet with holes in it really.  But at least a kid dressed as a ghost wouldn't get beat up.

As my mom was busily making my costume and several others for my siblings, I just happened to wander past Melissa's circular street - the bunny girl from the year before (I'd found out the bunny-girl's name after much questioning of my older brother, who was in her grade).  All the memories of the last Halloween came flooding back to me, and suddenly I glimpsed her heading out of her house with a girlfriend.  They seemed to be going somewhere to play.  It was a perfect opportunity to get a closer look.  She'd probably outgrown her bunny outfit and it would be hanging in a storage shed somewhere, ripe for the picking.  I had no idea whether her parents were home or not.  I'm sure if I had been thinking straight, I wouldn't have been so brave that day, but I was emboldened by the fact that I was young and innocent-looking.  If I got caught, I would just say I was seeing if Melissa was home.  Kids my age often did intrusive things like looking in people's windows.  Nobody really thought much of it back then.

So I nonchalantly wandered over to her house.  Not wishing to appear too suspicious, I headed right for the back yard.  There were some woods back there that a kid could cut through to go to a friend's house.  As my luck would have it, Melissa's back yard was surrounded by a tall wooden fence.  There was no way to see in, but there didn't seem to be any locks on the gate latch either.  So with my heart in my throat, I nervously unlatched and opened the gate.

At first, what I saw didn't register - and then it didn't seem real.  I saw a very pretty girl.  She had on a Cinderella costume with a long, blonde wig, and short, pink, faux fur jacket over it...oh yeah - and she had been suspended from the swing set, tied hand and foot to the supports.

I just stopped dead in my tracks, and my heart seemed to stop as well.  I didn't know what to make of the sight before me and forgot all about shutting the gate quietly behind me.  BANG!  The gate shuddered on it's hinges as it shut, creating even more noise than I'd thought possible.  That got my heart racing again, and my confused mind was split between making sense of the spectacle in front of me and worrying about whether anyone had heard the crash of the gate.  Certainly, the pretty girl tied to the swing had heard me enter the yard, but she was facing away and was apparently in no position to turn and see who I was.

I wasn't sure what to do, so I waited.  The girl tied to the swing set didn't stir, and nobody else in the neighborhood did either.  After a few minutes of silent vigilance, I decided to investigate further.

I surveyed the scene.  Melissa's family had a swimming pool and a shed-like pool house - things I'd always wished for, but never had.  The swing set was the standard metal one that most families had at the time - an 'A' frame, with an assortment of swings and a trapeze-like swinging bar.  "Cinderella's" hands were tied to the center support, while her feet were tied wide apart to the sides of the 'A' frame.  Knowing quite a bit about self-bondage through my years of experience, I was reasonably sure "Cinderella" hadn't tied herself there.  So I assumed what I was seeing was a cruel practical joke on one of Melissa's friends or a sister.

As I quietly crept around the yard to get a better look at "Cinderella", I somehow knew there was more to the situation, but I didn't know what it was.  Of course, the pretty outfit and helpless maiden were working to stir up my loins, regardless.  By the time I got close to the swing set, I had an embarrassing "prominence" in my pants.  That could make meeting this young maiden a little awkward.  Still, I had to get a look at the face of my damsel in distress, and my male bravado was telling me that if I rescued her she would be forever grateful.  So I worked up my courage, adjusted my loins a bit, and walked around to the front of the suspended figure.

I froze again - there was something familiar about the girl.  She seemed to be close to my age or a bit younger, but I couldn't quite determine where I'd seen her before.  She was cute, and I prided myself on having cute faces from school committed to memory.  She had pale skin, some cute freckles, and pretty blue eyes, though her makeup seemed a bit overdone.  I couldn't tell what color hair she had under the ridiculously blonde wig.  But there was no doubt that this Cinderella wouldn't have escaped my notice at school if she was anywhere near my age.  Yet there was something familiar about her.

Sheepishly, I realized that those blue eyes were staring at me pleadingly while I sized up the situation. The girl had been gagged and obviously couldn't communicate in body language trussed up like that.  Not knowing what to do or where to start helping this poor lass, I pulled the knotted silk scarf out of Cinderella's mouth so she could talk to me.  She breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thanks."

Suddenly everything became clear.  I knew why I'd never seen this girl at school.  I knew that voice.

"Larry?"

"Hi Arnold."

Again I was speechless.  I had no idea that Larry was a cross-dresser like me.  I stood there with mixed emotions.  Here was a cute girl, who was actually a boy, who obviously hadn't tied himself up like this.  I was almost overjoyed at this new information, except I was frightened as well.  I was seeing my chance to open up to somebody, except that he obviously hadn't put himself in this situation, so perhaps he hadn't dressed himself like that either.  Perhaps he wasn't like me at all, but I knew this was the closest I'd ever come to finding someone like me.

After a few moments of watching Larry struggle and going through a similar mental struggle in my own mind, I blurted out the most prominent question on my mind.

"Who did this to you?"

"My sister.  She does stuff like this to me all the time.  Then she leaves me like this for a long time.  She's totally evil.  What are you doing here anyway?"

"I...uh...never mind.  Would you like me to get you down?"

"NO!" he shrieked.  "My sister might come back and then she might do something worse to me."

"Worse?"  I couldn't imagine what that could be, but the idea definitely had my male organ struggling for prominence again.  I decided to pursue a different subject to keep my mind off of it.  "Your sister sounds pretty mean.  Did she dress you like that?"

"Yeah.  She hates to wear girly stuff so she makes me wear it.  I really don't mind that part so much, but then she always ties me up somewhere and leaves me alone.  Sometimes I worry that she will tie me up somewhere and forget about me, and nobody will ever find me until I'm dead."

Tears began to fill Arnold's eyes, and he seemed to be unable to continue talking.  I began to really feel sorry for him and I wanted to help him even though he wasn't exactly the damsel I had believed he was.  But if he wouldn't let me release him, all I could do is talk him through it.

"It's okay Arnold," I began lamely.  "Um...I'm sure there are lots of people that would love to be in your situation."  Boy did that sound stupid!  But it was true in my case.  I would have switched places with him in a heartbeat.  Arnold sniffled and his sobbing seemed to ease up, encouraging me to go on.  "To tell you the truth, I would love to have a sister like yours."

Arnold suddenly stopped crying altogether, and in the sudden awkward silence I realized I may have said too much.  I didn't know Arnold well enough to know what he would do with the information I'd just given him.  He was kind of shy like me, but I'm sure he could ruin my life with the shocking admission I'd just given him.

"What do you mean?"

"Umm...I...well...I mean..."  Now I was feeling like the one in a Cinderella costume, hanging from the swing set.  I quickly made up my mind that I was fairly safe in light of Larry's current situation, so I decided to tell the truth.  "Arnold, I get dressed up in girl clothes all the time, only I don't have anyone to tie me up, so I have to tie myself up."

"You mean dressed up like a girl, like my sister dresses me?"  The shock was really setting in and Arnold's eyes were wide with realization.

"Yeah, like a girl, only not usually as pretty as you.  I'm afraid to put on makeup and stuff just in case I can't get it all off and somebody notices."

"I know what you mean.  I used to worry about that too.  But my sister enjoys taking my makeup off as much as she enjoys putting it on.  She scrubs my face really hard.  I think she just enjoys hurting me.  Anyway, I can usually do it myself now if I can talk her into letting me do it.  It's less painful when I do it myself.

"But why do you tie yourself up?"

"Well, I'm not really sure, except that I like it.  I guess it just lets me enjoy myself better.  I pretend I'm being forced and then I don't feel as guilty about it."

"That makes sense.  My sister always forces me, but sometimes I really enjoy it.  I would never tell her that, though I think she knows sometimes.  I just don't like it when she ties me up and leaves me like this.  It hurts to just hang here for so long, and I can't see myself or touch myself like I want to.  I can't even feel my fingers or toes anymore.  I do hope my sister doesn't stay at her friend's house all night.  Sometimes she leaves me tied up for a really long time."

"I could untie you," I offered again.

"Well, if you could just untie my legs so I can stand up for a while, it would help.  But you have to remember how I was tied so my sister won't suspect anything."

"Okay," I said excitedly.  I really liked the way Arnold looked in his pretty Cinderella outfit.  I had wanted to touch the material, and now I had an excuse to do it.  I fumbled with the knots in the ropes, purposely brushing my fingers across the soft, pink tights and the pretty 2"-heeled pink patent leather dress shoes.  I finally got both of his legs untied, but he still barely reached the ground with his toes.

"Thank you."  He ended up having to stand on his toes to relieve the pressure on the ropes around his wrists.  It kind of looked painful, but it also did something to the shape of his legs that was turning me on.  I wanted to touch those pretty legs, and I had just the excuse ready.

"Are you in pain?  Do you want me to rub the circulation back into your legs?"

He seemed a bit nervous, but he said, "If you don't mind..."

"Sure!"

I proceeded to rub his soft, nylon-clad ankles.  I gave a good massage at first, but I was panting and my hands were shaking as I felt a compulsion to explore upwards.  I soon gave in to the temptation.  I worked my way up as gently as I could.  The curves of his legs encased by the soft material had my tiny boner throbbing.  As my hands disappeared under the dress, I glanced up to watch Arnold's reaction.  He had a sort of wide-eyed, surprised look, but he was also biting his lower lip and staring straight ahead.  He appeared to be enjoying his leg rubdown, so after glancing around and finding us still alone, I continued.

As I caressed his silken clad thighs and started to move upwards, Arnold let out a little gasp, but continued to bite his lip, encouraging me to continue.  I ducked my head under the dress and petticoats so I could see what I was doing.  Not wanting to startle him or break my momentum, I slowly moved my hands over his bottom.  I squeezed them both gently, and traced the soft curves around them.  Then slowly, I moved my hands around to the front.  I was very eager to feel what I knew was there, straining against the fabric.

But as soon as my hands brushed the silken tent in front of him, he drew his knees up defensively, nearly kneeing me in the face.  I immediately extracted myself from the voluminous dress and stood up.  I hadn't wished to offend him, but I couldn't help myself.

He was huffing, and his face was red.  I could tell the answer to the question before I asked it: "Didn't you like that?"

"Well...yeah, I guess, but..."

"I'm sorry.  Look, I just really love the way your clothes feel.  I've always wondered what I would feel like to someone else when I'm dressed.  I'm not trying to take advantage of you or anything.  I'm not gay, just curious."

"Well, I'm not gay either.  I just don't think I can handle having a guy touching me like that."

"What if I were a girl?"

"Huh?"

"Would it help if I were dressed up too?  Then it wouldn't be like a guy touching you."

He thought for several moments.  "Well, maybe..."

"Okay, then I guess I should explain something.  I remember what your sister was wearing last Halloween, and ever since then, I've wanted to wear it.  I actually came over here wanting to steal it so I could wear it.  Do you know where your sister keeps it?"

"It's probably hanging in the basement with all the other pretty clothes she refuses to wear.  She calls them 'sissy clothes'.  If you want it, I'm sure she'd never miss it.  The back door to the house should be unlocked.  She usually forgets to lock it.  Go through the kitchen, down the hall on your left, and through the first door to the basement."

I couldn't believe it.  The clothing conquest I had come here for wasn't going to be hard after all.  I hurried through the back door and into the basement.  I found the light switch and immediately noticed a rack of clothes off to the left.  It didn't take me long to find the bunny outfit.  To my heart's joy, the tights were hanging right there with the leotard and bunny ears.  I trembled as I took it from the rack.  There were many nice "sissy clothes" hanging on the rack, and I looked them over as I slowly shed my clothing.

I made a mental note to come back sometime for the beautiful, lacy Easter dress I saw, and a glittery dance outfit that consisted of a white leotard, long-tailed tuxedo-type jacket and a sparkly hat.  My nervousness increased as I reached for the beige dance tights that went with the bunny costume.  I hadn't noticed before that they were seamed down the back.  The feel of the seam against my legs heightened my awareness of what I was wearing.

By the time I picked up the bunny leotard, I thought I would shake into pieces.  My tiny organ was hard and throbbing, making a little tent in the tights.  I slowly pulled the leotard up my legs.  It was nearly a perfect fit.  I put the bunny ears on my head and pulled back my bangs with it so my hair would appear more feminine.  I wanted to look in a mirror and see if I looked as sexy as I felt.

I was a little nervous at the prospect of wandering around in a strange house dressed as a girl bunny, but I'd come this far without any problems.   So I proceeded to check the upstairs rooms for a mirror.  I immediately tumbled into a room that must have been Melissa's room.  It was lacking much of the feminine clothing most girls might have, but it was definitely decorated like a girl's room.  Maybe Melissa dressed like boy, but her mom must have done the decorating.

I also found a wide variety of shoes, which I realized I was going to need in order to go out in the somewhat chilly air.  I found a pair similar to the ones Arnold was wearing, except black, and tried them on.  Surprisingly, they fit just a bit loosely.  Melissa was older than me, but I always figured girl's feet stayed smaller than boy's feet.  I'd outgrown my mom's shoes a year ago.  Luckily, Melissa's feet were big for a girl.

Drawn now to the clothes hanging in the closet, I searched for anything feminine.  There wasn't much, but there were what appeared to be a few Sunday dresses.  There was one pretty pink Barbie overcoat.  It was made out of some kind of lightweight, glossy rubber.  I decided that it probably wouldn't be missed and put it on over my bunny costume to keep myself warm.  It covered my pretty, fluffy bunny tail, but you can't have everything.

I turned to the floor-standing mirror in the corner.  I was looking very pretty, but not as pretty as Arnold was.  I didn't know how to apply makeup, nor did I really want to mess with too much of "evil" Melissa's things so it would just have to do.  Using Melissa's makeup would probably just get Arnold in more hot water anyway.  So, satisfied that I looked okay, I headed back out.  There was still nobody around.

"Well, what do you think?" I asked Arnold.

"Wow - you look pretty as a girl.  I like it."

"Thanks," I giggled girlishly.  I'd been practicing giggling girlishly in the mirror for months because it really turned me on when girls do it.  It seemed to have its effect on Arnold as well.

"Do you still want to touch me now?"

"Oh yes.  May I?"

"Sure."

Suddenly feeling as girlish as I pretended, I stood on my tip-toes and gave him a quick kiss on the lips.  It was as pleasant as I had imagined kissing a girl would be.  He didn't seem to mind either, though he blushed furiously.

I rubbed my legs up against his and kissed him again on the cheek.  I pulled him in tight to me and could feel him bulging through the material as much as I was.  Then I began my leg massage again, slowly and gently moving up from the ankles.  This time I didn't stop at his bottom and smoothly moved my hand to his groin.  He twitched a little at my touch, but didn't object as he had the first time.  I felt him harden even more under my caresses, and I hardened too.

I always loved stoking myself through silky feminine attire, and I found that I loved stoking both of us at the same time even more.  I moved around behind him and stoked us both for all I was worth.  In a matter of seconds, we had both made a sticky mess of ourselves.  I continued to hold him tight against me for a minute, but I guess Arnold started feeling a little weird about everything.

"Okay, you've got to tie me back up the way I was before my sister gets home.  Hurry."

The imperative really broke my sexy mood, so I did as he asked and pulled his gag back into place.  Just as I finished, sure enough, I heard some female voices outside the fence.  The back door to the house was about eighty feet away.  I was trapped, and I had left my clothes in the basement.  There was a pool house about twenty feet away, and I dashed to the door.  I got inside just in time.

Through the window, I saw Melissa and a friend come through the gate.  They headed straight for Arnold.  As they approached, I began to make out part of what they were saying.

"...poor Cinderella.  Isn't she just adorable in her pretty costume though?"  They both giggled.

"Let's get some pictures of him, okay?"

"Yeah."  They clicked several snapshots.  I felt terrible when I realized those photos would be used to blackmail Arnold for years to come.  But there was nothing I could do, especially dressed as I was!  The girls continued teasing Arnold as I tried to plan my escape.  Hopefully, the girls would leave again, or let Arnold loose and he'd have the decency to bring me my regular clothes from the basement.

Unfortunately, fate was not being friendly just then.  Melissa decided that Arnold hadn't had enough humiliation and left him hanging there while she went inside the house with her friend.  I had no idea how long I'd be trapped in the pool house, but there was nothing I could do but wait.

 

...end Chapter 1

COPYRIGHT:  This is my story and I reserve the right to grant permission before it is copied or reprinted (though most likely I will grant said permission if politely asked).  Misrepresenting this material as anyone's other than mine is strictly prohibited.  Although no material is used from anyone else's stories, this story is partly based on the story "A Night of Fun" by Laura Ellis.  Laura's "A Night of Fun", while not great prose, is probably the most erotic story I've ever read (even more so if it is actually true), and I just had to put my young self into Laura's story to see what would happen.  This is the result.

   

  

  

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