Brandi's Story

Amber Fountaine stories contain sexually explicit descriptions of consensual sexual activity and are not suitable for reading by anyone under the age of 18, or anyone offended by reading such material. These acts include gay and bisexual activity as well as any combination of piss play, diapers, cross-dressing, sissified adults, and other fetishes and perversions that may please the author's whims. The characters in these stories are fictional, but are based on the author's true experiences, as well as the experiences of others that he has met. Every attempt to conceal these identities has been made.

These stories are placed in Nifty for the enjoyment of its readers and are not to be copied and/or distributed without the approval of the author.

This is the second in a series of short stories that are true stories as related to me over the last 35+ years that I have enjoyed meeting others that share my interests. Every time I've met or corresponded with someone I've made a point to ask how they developed their interest and I've used combinations of those stories, along with my own experiences, to create much of what I've previously written. However that was when I had more time to do so. With less time available to me, for this series I'll relate the more interesting sexual biographies as I remember them. And since I change the names anyway, what I'll do for this series is put them in alphabetical order rather than by chapter.

Brandi's Story

as told by Amber Fountaine

My life changed a few days after my 12th birthday. And at the time it happened, I wasn't even sure I knew the name of the girl that changed it.

We lived in a housing addition on the outskirts of town, about a half-mile past a new shopping center. Sometimes my mom would ask me to go to the store for her and she didn't like for me to take my bike out on the highway. The alternative was to walk all the way around a large wooded area, or cut through from our subdivision to the shopping center. As you can imagine, it didn't take long for a kid my age to strike a path through the woods. And because of that, I happened on something that made me curious.

I was nearing the shopping center when I heard a woman's voice holler, "Hurry!" It was coming from the direction I was headed and instead of hurrying, it made me stop. About that time I saw a girl who appeared to be not much older than me run into the woods just far enough that she was mostly hidden from the shopping center parking lot and then turn behind some shrubby brush. She was wearing a plaid, pleated skirt, much like the girls at my school wore when school was in session, and had just hiked it up in back when I heard her make a weird noise - sort of a mix of a soft cry and a moan - and she froze in position. I'd never seen anyone of any age or gender act like that.

As silently as possible, I moved closer to see what her problem might be and to my amazement, she was standing, knees bent in a semi-crouch, and pissing in her panties. From my new vantage point, no more than fifty feet away, I had no problem seeing the stream of yellow piss pouring out of the crotch of her pink panties.

My initial reaction was a muffled snicker. There'd been a time or two in my past when I'd held it, thinking I'd make it home or someplace, and misjudged, wetting my pants. So to see someone else, in this case an older girl, wet her panties because she hadn't gone to the bathroom when she should have, was sort of cathartic. It made me wish the boys that teased me all the time were there to witness this if only to draw their attention away from me. Maybe I should explain that.

My name is Brandon Hardwood. My folks had me enrolled in a small private school since kindergarten and I'd already skipped one grade. Because the school was more concerned about segregating the students by sex than age, the only time I was around girls was before and after school when our parents dropped us off or picked us up. The rest of the time I was rubbing shoulders with boys from six to eighteen and as a young nerd and a momma's boy, you can imagine the sort of teasing the older boys gave me. Add in a last name like "Hardwood" and it was even worse.

The first time I remember being teased about my name had been in second grade. I had no idea what the older boys were talking about so I went home that night and at the supper table asked my dad why the older boys called me sissy and offered to let me play with their 'hard wood' and would rub their crotches and fall out laughing at me. Instead of an explanation, my dad took me to school the next day where we met with the Dean and I had to point out the boys that had teased me. Of course they got in trouble and I thought that was kind of neat until a couple of days later, on a Friday afternoon after school, when a coat was thrown over my head from behind, and I was beaten and kicked for being a snitch. I was so sore that I could barely move for three days. They told me that if I told anyone I'd been beaten again, the next one would be ten times as bad. If anyone asked, I was to say I'd been playing rugby, a new sport at our school, with some older boys and had come out the worse for it.

What I learned from that experience was that I should accept the teasing and if I had any questions, it was better to ask one of the older boys instead of my parents. As a result, I had a much better understanding of sex than most boys my age, since that seemed to be the favorite topic of conversation among the older boys who were already in puberty.

My only ally at the time was another sissy type boy in my class named Richard Adams and because his folks insisted he be called, "Dickie," he got as much teasing as I did. Being buddies seemed to add to the teasing exponentially with us constantly being taunted about me playing with Dickie's dick and Dickie accused of making my wood hard since that was what sissies like us loved to do. Of course Dickie and I both understood that playing with each other's penis was supposed to be a bad thing to do, and we had no intention of doing anything like that, but it was pointless to explain that to the older boys.

In addition, Dickie and I had confided in each other that sometimes our little pricks would get hard for no reason and we both swore it wasn't because we played with them ourselves; something else we were often teased about. It seemed to be the consensus of the older boys that Dickie and I spent all our free time either playing with our own pricks or each others. And typical of a boy that age, I'd tried playing with mine to see what all the fuss was about, and had considered the whole activity to be a foolish waste of time.

So you can imagine how amazed I was to see a girl peeing in her panties, and confused as to why watching that was making my prick get hard. Even worse, it gave me a funny feeling, almost like I had a fever that seemed to come over my whole body. Then, to my further amazement, when the girl finished peeing, instead of dropping her skirt and going back to whoever was waiting on her, she took off the wet panties and carefully put then across one of the bigger branches of the bush, like she was laying them out to dry. Then she ran back to the shopping center parking lot and disappeared around a corner of a building.

I think I stood there in awe, barely breathing, and wondering why my heart was throbbing like I'd been running laps at school. I speculated on my erection and why seeing a girl pee had made it hard. Did that mean I had to pee too even though my bladder didn't feel full? Sometimes in the morning when I had to pee my pecker would be hard. Yet I knew I had to wait for it to soften before I could pee, so that didn't make sense. In fact, none of it made sense, but I knew who to talk to about it. I made a bee line to Dickie's house.

"You saw her bare ass," Dickie concluded after I'd told him about it. "That's always supposed to make a guy get hard."

"But it got hard when she was peeing in her panties," I countered. "Isn't that weird?"

"Maybe you really are a pervert like Jason said and that's why you stole the panties."

I knew he was just teasing. Jason Miller was one of our biggest antagonists. His latest nickname for us, given to us just before the summer break, had been, "The Dork Duo," and Dickie was now called "Prickie" and I was "Brandy" instead of Brandon. The previous Saturday I'd been at Dillard's with my mom and had run into one of the older boys who'd hollered, "Hey Brandy - is your mommy going to buy you some new dresses?"

"I didn't steal the panties," I told him again. "She threw them away."

"The first time you told me she laid them on a bush to dry. I'll bet she was coming back for them. Did you see her bush? If it was really Kathy Miller I'll bet she has one. Think how hard you would have gotten if you'd seen that!"

I decided that Dickie wasn't going to be any help and put the panties, which had long since dried, back in my pocket. "Maybe next time that Kathy Miller babysits me, I'll show her the panties and see if she wants them back. Maybe she'll put them on while I watch." That was really pushing my imagination. While it had looked like it might possibly have been Kathy Miller, that was as much wishful thinking as anything. Kathy just happened to be the only young and attractive female in my life so of course she was at the top of my fantasy life too.

"Yeah. Fat chance. You're probably keepin' them 'cause you want to wear them yourself and pee in them like she did."

Now I'm not saying the idea had never occurred to me, but at that moment, the second he said it, I knew I was going to do it. Since I was an only child and my parents worked, finding time and privacy to do it was not a problem. However as unlikely as it was that anyone would ever know, I thought the last thing I needed was to give the older boys more reasons to tease and taunt me. I was sure that wearing girl's panties and peeing in them would be something I could never live down. As a result, it was a couple of days after I'd acquired those panties before I got up the courage and used them as Kathy had done. And while I'd had the house to myself all day that day and it would have been much easier to do standing in the bathtub, I put on the panties, wore them under my shorts, and stood in exactly the same spot near the shopping center to wet them.

I'm not sure what I expected. I do remember thinking as I watched the wet spot on my shorts become large and very visible; that peeing had to be the main reason women wore dresses and that wearing a skirt would be easier for boys too. And I was pleasantly surprised by how good it felt to have that warm piss spread throughout my crotch. But when my bladder was empty, all I could think of was - now what?

Walking home through the woods with visibly wet shorts wasn't a problem. But there were two blocks to travel when I got to my subdivision and there was no telling who I might run into. I also remember thinking that next time, I either had to take off my shorts or find someplace else to wet myself. I don't recall that I considered for a moment the possibility of not peeing in those panties again. In fact, as I walked slowly though the woods, willing the wind to dry my shorts yet getting a thrill from walking around in piss soaked clothes, I began to think of other ways I could try wetting myself that would be less of a problem. Ironically, it was Kathy Miller that once again contributed to my next step into life-long sissy-dom and not just my fantasy Kathy Miller.

Kathy was my mom's favorite babysitter. And while I was at that age where I was beginning to resent needing a 'baby' sitter and my mom now referred to her only as ,'the sitter,' I did like Kathy. So I was looking forward to her next sitting job.

My mom had read some book about marital relationships and had decided that she and my dad had to have a 'date' of some sort every weekend. It seemed kind of hokey to me and I suspect my dad felt the same way, but as he explained to me later in life when I was about to take a wife of my own, "When Momma's happy, everyone is happy." I'm just surprised my mom didn't make him drive around the block and then come back and ring the doorbell to pick her up.

Anyway, when their next 'date' rolled around, I wondered how or if I could or should tell Kathy that I had a pair of panties that might be hers. For one thing, I wasn't 100% certain that it was her I saw. When the girl in the woods had walked toward me, I was further away and behind some trees. By the time I got close enough that I could have been sure, she had her back to me and never really turned completely in my direction when she finished. However there was one moment, just as she was walking off, and I was walking toward where she'd peed, that I stepped on a branch and it made enough noise that she turned to look in my direction. I'd frozen in place, mostly hidden behind the same bush where she'd peed, and after a glance, she kept going. She looked back a second time just before she went around the corner of the building, smiling, but never stopped.

When Kathy showed up - she lived just a few doors down the street - she gave me no reason to suspect there was anything unusual about to happen. But about an hour after my folks had gone, while we were watching some show on TV, she suddenly asked, "Brandon, what did you do with the panties you picked up in the woods?"

If she'd been a little less direct, I might have been able to play dumb. But she hadn't given me any wiggling room at all. She hadn't asked if I had them, making that fact a given. She just wanted to know what I'd done with them. In a voice that was little more than a quivering whisper, I told her, "They're in my room."

I waited for the verbal abuse that I was sure was coming and wondered what would happen to me after she told my mom and dad. Instead, to my utter amazement, she asked, "Have you been having fun with them?"

Not knowing how she might mean that, I glanced up at her from where my eyes had been burning holes in the carpet to discover she was smiling at me. So she had seen me for sure, but wasn't mad about it. Somewhat relieved and hoping maybe she wouldn't tell my folks about it, I nodded and told her, "yes." I wasn't about to tell her what I'd been doing, but it definitely fell under the category of, "having fun." I'd wet them three times in the last five days and the previous night, had worn the wet panties under my pajamas to bed.

"I didn't think you were old enough to do that yet."

Dickie and I had recently learned about masturbation, or jacking off, or spanking the monkey, or any of the other phrases the older boys called it. And it was our old nemesis Jason that, after taunting us about playing with ourselves and each other, had added, "Just teasing guys. You little babies aren't old enough to do that yet." Dickie and I had consulted on that and surmised that maybe we should try it just once to see if we were old enough, since it seemed to be the only way to tell if we'd reached that magical stage of our development. But since we had no idea exactly how a guy was supposed to jack off, we'd let it slide. But at least I was pretty sure I knew what Kathy had meant. "I'm not - I mean I don't - can't . . ." As much as I hated to say the words, I told her, "I'm not old enough."

Now she was really smiling at me. "Have you tried?"

I shook my head and bashfully told her, "I don't know how."

"Well you said you'd been having fun with my panties. If you weren't using them to play with your peter, what were you doing?"

By now I was starting to glow beet red. "I . . . wet them," Then to make it sound a little less ominous, I added, reminding her, "Like you did."

"So you've put them on and wet them?"

I nodded. "Yeah," I whispered.

"Do you like wearing my panties?"

Again I nodded, unable to speak.

"Which do you like more - wearing the panties or wetting them?"

That was the kind of question I had to answer, yet I really didn't have one. All three times I'd worn them, I'd had them on for a while before I wet them and each time I'd let the nylon material dry out while I still had them on. I really liked the way it felt when I let my bladder go, but I also enjoyed the way they felt - so different than the jockey shorts I was used to. I gathered up the courage to answer, "I kinda like both."

She move to sit beside me on the couch and I wasn't sure if she intended to take me over her knee and spank me like my mom had a time or two. What I for sure didn't expect was for her to put her arm around my shoulder and tell me, "Me too."

Stunned, I listened silently as she told me about the day I'd seen her wet her panties and how she'd been near my age before it was safe for her to go to bed without a diaper and that sometimes, just for fun, if she woke up dry she'd wet the diaper on purpose because she thought it felt super good.

"Were you still in diapers when I first started sitting for your folks? Your mom always had you in your pajamas already so I wouldn't have known."

I told her that I almost couldn't remember being in diapers and that I'd had an accident or two, wetting the bed at night once in awhile, but that my mom had never suggested putting me back in diapers.

"Would you like to try it? My little brother is still in diapers and sometimes I take one of his to wet it. I could bring some with me next time I sit for you. It would be a lot more fun to baby sit you if I could make you my baby."

If I hadn't already had a huge crush on Kathy Miller, I sure did from that moment on.

Then we talked about underwear and how much prettier everything was that they made for girls and since I was kind of a sissy anyway, she said I'd be foolish if I didn't enjoy wearing pretty things and offered to go shopping with me if I'd like to get some more things to go with the panties she was happy to let me keep. She made it sound like I was lucky to be a sissy and not have to try to act like one of the showoff boys, insisting I go to my room and put on the panties and my pajamas so we could talk like she talked with her girlfriends.

It was totally awesome. At the same time we were talking about me being a baby and a sissy and dressing like a little girl, she was making me feel more like a grownup than I'd ever felt before. Before long, we were talking about sex and boys and her explanations made a lot more sense to me than anything my dad had tried to tell me or that I'd picked up from guys at school.

That began a period of two and a half years that are pretty much the foundation of the adult I became. Sometimes Kathy would diaper me and make me her baby girl. At other times, like when she'd invite me to come over to her house when her folks were gone, she'd dress me up as Brandi and I'd get to be her little sister for a few hours. I was learning how to be feminine and a girl's prospective on sex and it was all good!

I passed along the things I was learning from Kathy to Dickie, and when school began again Dickie let part of my secret out, starting the rumor that I had an older girl teaching me about sex. I became an instant hero. It's crazy how that works out sometimes. I went from supreme sissy to class stud. Of course I left out the parts about Kathy putting me in diapers and going shopping with me so that I could buy the lingerie I had hidden in my bedroom that I would wear when I jacked off - something else Kathy had taught me to do.

It didn't take many diapering sessions with Kathy, and her playing with my little prick each time, before I wanted to take some of that baby oil and play with it myself. And it didn't take many of those manual stimulation sessions before I'd produced my first emission.

Eventually Dickie learned about Brandi and instead of being upset, insisted he wanted to see Brandi dressed up. I needed Kathy's help for that and when I told her what Dickie wanted, she suggested that what he really wanted was to have sex with me. That surprised me since he and I had always insisted that we weren't really anything like what the older boys teased us about. I didn't want to argue with Kathy, but I was almost certain she had to be wrong about that one.

Now maybe if I'd phrased it different, things would have turned out different. But I didn't. Instead of asking Dickie why he was so anxious to see me dressed as Brandi, in the usual blunt fashion I'd learned from my dad, I asked, "Do you want to have sex with me?"

That sounded to him much more like an invitation than a question and I was so stunned when he said, "Sure," and began undressing, that I didn't stop him.

Suddenly I had a naked boy in my bedroom. Since we'd been in pajamas, that hadn't taken but an instant. All the things I'd learned from Kathy, plus all the things she'd said she wanted to do when she had a boyfriend, rushed through my mind. Only recently Kathy had given me my first hand-job while diapering me. She didn't believe me when I told her I could cum so instead of just oiling my cock and playing with it for a minute or so, she kept at it. It wasn't the first time she'd played with my dick - just the first time to make me cum.

Her little brother was out of diapers by then and I'd had to buy my own and keep them hidden in my Boy Scout backpack – the last place I figured my folks might ever look for something. From the first time she'd diapered me, she'd made a point of playing with my pecker, but had never done more than that. Ironically, at the same time she was diapering me and treating me like her baby, we'd be having a much more grown up conversation, with her telling me about some boy at school and how handsome she thought he was and how he always got a bulge in his pants when he talked to her and things like that. I'm sure she shared secrets with some real girlfriends, but I was one of the first to hear about it when she played with her boyfriend's cock for the first time. And later, when one of her friends bragged about giving a guy a blowjob, we talked about that at length and how she'd like to do that for a boy if she really, really liked him, and how she wasn't sure if it was better to swallow or spit, that the girls she knew didn't all agree on that.

Now, with Dickie standing naked before me, his young cock painfully erect, it looked like the only decision I had to make was how far I wanted to go. I knew he wanted me to dress up for him, but all I had at home were the diapers, five panties, and one nightgown. So quickly I put on panties and the nightgown and almost immediately, Dickie hugged me and began to rub his naked body against the nylon of the gown, telling me how good it felt. I thought his hard dick rubbing against mine through the material of the lingerie felt damn good too! Then I realized that if I didn't do something with that hard dick of Dickie's, that he'd be cumming all over my gown - if he could cum yet. I'd cum for the first time less than a month earlier and had no idea if Dickie could do it yet or not. But I did know that this was my opportunity to get up close and personal with a hard boy-cock and dropped to my knees for a closer look.

"Oh shit, you're gonna suck it, that's awesome!" I heard him moan.

Actually, I hadn't even touched it yet, but he'd assumed when I knelt before him that sucking his cock was my intention - and everything considered, maybe sub-consciously it was. My conversations with Kathy had made me think about doing it. We'd discussed boy's cocks and whether circumcised or un-circumcised was better. Since mine was cut, I told her that I thought I'd prefer a boy that was cut too and she'd asked if Dickie was. So most of those visualizations, of `Brandi' playing with and sucking a cock, had been of Dickie. Now I had my chance and there wasn't any more hesitation.

His prick was about the same length as the width of my hand so while I wanted to feel it, I knew there wasn't enough Dickie dick that I could hold it and suck it too. I held it between two fingers for a moment, just to see if his felt any different than mine, He was so hard it was twitching, almost like it was a finger motioning for me to, "come here." In one movement I leaned forward and took the whole thing in my mouth. Like me, his prick wasn't much bigger than my thumb, so sucking in the entire cock, all the way to his bare pubes, was possible. Thankfully, Kathy's remark about it being silly that they called it a blowjob when you were really supposed to suck had been in my mind each time I'd fantasized about doing it, so I began immediately to suck Dickie's dick, taking it all the way in, and then sucking like it was a hard, fleshy popsicle as I pulled off it. Then I'd flick the head with my tongue the way Kathy played with the head of mine with her finger, and do it again.

Suddenly Dickie grabbed my head to stop me, moaned almost as if I'd hurt him, and with no experience in sucking cock, I worried that maybe I had. Then he pulled away and told me, "That was awesome. You can be my girlfriend any time."

If he'd cum in my mouth, it hadn't been enough for me to notice. But we were definitely bonded as never before. And the timing was perfect. As Kathy became less interested in being my baby sitter and turning me into her baby sister - she was beginning to get popular at school and dated a lot - Dickie was there to take her place. And since Kathy wasn't available that much anyway, and I was getting older, my folks decided I probably didn't need a baby sitter and agreed that when they went out, I could have Dickie spend the night with me. As I said, it was perfect timing.

When I told Dickie all the details about how Kathy had made me her sissy baby sister, he wanted to try it too, as well as returning the favor of sucking my cock. It was as great a puberty as I could imagine a boy experiencing. We didn't grow tired of it until we were both in high school and dating girls and the only time I ever came close to being caught was when I was at the drug store buying diapers for Dickie and me, and one of my mom's friends walked up behind me just as I was taking the diapers out of the shopping cart and putting them on the check-out counter. I know I had to be blushing but she didn't say anything. I guess she assumed I was a bed-wetter and didn't want to embarrass me any more than I already was. I was sure my mom was going to question me about it, and I had a story ready about a friend's mom asking me to run to the store for her, but I never heard a word.

After that, I decided that maybe I'd really gotten too old for playing in diapers, but I was for sure hooked on playing in girl's clothes and there was another bit of irony involved with that. Dickie and I were fifteen, going on sixteen, when we decided after what had been four wonderful years, that we should stop dressing as sissies and sucking each other off all the time. I threw a few things away, but kept one blouse, skirt, nightgown, bra, some falsies, and a couple of pair of panties and used them to entertain myself at home. And I guess, since I wasn't trying to be so secretive, as I had been when I'd been having sex with Dickie, I got a little too casual about hiding my feminine wardrobe and my mom found it.

"Care to explain that?" she asked, pointing at the box on the bed. As soon as I'd come home from going to a Saturday football game, and my mom told me she wanted to talk to me in that voice that meant all was not well, I knew I had a problem. Then when she'd had me follow her to my room, I was sure I knew why. Seeing my box of girl's clothes sitting open on my bed had confirmed my worst fears.

Fortunately, more than once Dickie had asked me what was I going to tell my folks if they found my 'Brandi' clothes and I had a story prepared. As casually as possible, considering my legs were shaky and I was sweating like a race horse, I told her that it was a bunch of things that Kathy had given me for a skit back in middle school and I'd never gotten around to throwing them out.

"You needed a nightgown for a school skit?"

I shrugged. "I don't know why that's in there," I lied, hoping she hadn't noticed the numerous stains on the front of the gown. "I guess she just put a bunch of things together that she didn't need."

There was a long pause as she gave me that look that told me she didn't believe a word of it but all she said was, "Then you won't be needing any of that stuff and it's okay for me to throw it out?"

"Oh sure," I told her as enthusiastically as I could manage since I was about to cry. I'd gotten big enough by then that I was busting the seams on everything but the nightie, and it was getting tight, yet I still hated to see it go. But at least I was off the hook.

What made that really so ironic was that it didn't take long for me to miss those well used items when I jacked off and for the first time I went looking at my mom's clothes as a substitute. Maybe Dickie didn't want to dress up as "Darla" anymore, but I couldn't stop being Brandi - at least not completely - until I was out of junior college.

I may have looked like a geek, but I didn't have 'geek' classroom skills, with the exception of being pretty good with computers. However mechanical things came easy to me and I went through a two-year program at a local junior college and got an associate degree for working on power generators. I got hired right out of school by an oil company and after a few months in the oil field, got to transfer to an off-shore crew. My folks convinced me that it was foolish to rent an apartment since I'd be out at the rig more than I'd be home and let me keep my old room at minimal rent.

Now who would ever guess that in the very masculine environment of an off-shore oil rig that I'd discover that Brandi had a kindred spirit. We weren't one of the super size rigs, but the importance of maintaining electrical power meant that there were three electricians and three power generation mechanics on the rig, working in rotating 12 hour shifts. Because of that, I was working, or off duty, at all hours of the day and night. We had several computers on the rig and a satellite hookup for guys to check their email, contact their families, or more likely, to look at porn. It wasn't at all unusual for a guy to spend a half-hour or so at the computer, and then make a bee-line to a toilet stall. I guess because everyone did it, there wasn't any serious teasing about it. I mean, there was a lot of joking about it, but not like the kind that I'd endured from the older boys when I'd been going to that private school. As the new man, for the first couple of months, I caught the most, but it was all in good fun and by then there were other guys newer and I was left alone.

As I said, I'm pretty good with computers and in fact, my partner and I now own a computer sales and repair business, but this was back in the late nineties. One night, while browsing through one of the computers that was used by all of us in rig maintenance; I discovered someone had gone to an e-group site for cross-dressers. I thought sure someone had stumbled on it by accident, but when I looked closer, I found that whoever it was had opened several pages on the site. The flush of excitement that came over me, after a couple of years of very limited fun with one pair of panties, was incredible. It was like a hot flash and cold chills at the same time.

"WHO?" I asked myself silently a dozen times. I tried to think of anyone I'd met on the rig that seemed to be in any way effeminate and not a single one of the guys seemed to stand out to me. Hoping to find a clue, I dug into the computer more closely and then began to map out a plan. Every time I got on the computer, I cleared the history cache and over the next couple of weeks, prior to my rotation, I was able to narrow the possibilities down to maybe a dozen guys and on closer look, a few might possibly have a feminine side. However, every one of them seemed capable of rearranging my dental work if I suggested they might be the guy I was looking for. Then I hit on a better idea.

When I was home the next time, I used my computer in my bedroom to join the same cross-dressing group and began putting in messages about how I worked off-shore and spent most of my two weeks at home dressed as Brandi and how I'd love to meet a man. I told the group that being around all these masculine men for a month got me so horny and that my fantasy was to be a bunkhouse slut for them so that they'd never have to jack off again. As you might imagine, I got a lot of responses, wishing me well and telling me what a great fantasy I had, but it was six weeks later before I got the response I was looking for.

"Drill_me_deeply" sent me a message saying that he too worked offshore and had just gotten home and would be spending the next two weeks dressed as `Charlene' and that if I was anywhere close to Victoria, Texas, maybe we could meet sometime. I knew exactly who it was, even though he'd given me the name of an entirely different rig and company as the one where he worked.

One of the men I worked with, a supervisor, was the rig systems engineer. One of his jobs was seeing to it that our generators were capable of providing the power we needed and working with the electricians to see that the loads were evenly distributed. He was about ten years older than me, and like me had been with the company since he'd graduated - in his case from Tulane University in New Orleans. He'd taken courses in electrical engineering, petroleum engineering, and mechanical engineering, and had done an internship with the company that had built our rig. I'd spent hours chatting with the guy when we'd worked the same shift late at night and had nothing to do for a couple of hours. He had a Cajun last name - one of those that aren't pronounced at all like it's spelled - and, oh by the way, his first name was Charlie.

I also knew he was single, had a girlfriend that he suspected saw other men when he was gone, and while he was originally from a small town outside New Orleans, that he now lived by himself on a small family farm near Schroeder, Texas, a very small town about 15-20 miles from Victoria. The farm belonged to a widowed aunt and the one large pasture was leased out to a neighbor. Charlie lived in the old farmhouse to make his aunt happy and the same guy that leased the pasture looked in on the place when Charlie was out at the rig.

"I live a little ways out of town," he wrote in one message and in another he told me he had privacy at home to dress as he pleased. So I wrote back, giving him, over the course of four emails, a pretty accurate account of how I'd become "Brandi" and all about my early sexual experiences. I tried to remember what I'd told Charlie when we'd talked. I wanted him to suspect it might be me, but not be sure. However when he wrote back to tell me that he'd discovered the cross-dressing world while a college student in New Orleans, there was no doubt in my mind that Charlie was Charlene, aka. "drill_me_deeper".

Over the next week we chatted - sometimes three or four times a day, about our preferences in lingerie, and what we happened to be wearing at the moment. He told me that he'd never tried wearing diapers, but had a friend in college that was big into piss play and he liked to do things like that. One of the things he told me was that he loved pink lacy panties. I had just enough time to buy some before I had to go back out to the rig and I was ready for him when he came out a week later.

I was really nervous keeping those panties hidden, waiting for the right opportunity, even though I had them in a small sealed envelop. A couple of times I caught Charlie looking at me and I'd smile, getting one in return. Finally, after more than a week, the time was right. I was just about to go off shift when Charlie told me he was going to his desk to log some reports. As soon as I got to my locker, I grabbed the envelope, went to where his cubicle was, and after being sure no one else was around, handed him the envelop.

He looked at me, puzzled, and asked, "What's this?"

Fighting back the fear that seemed to be choking my throat, I told him, "Brandi thought you might like these." As soon as I said it, I turned and fled.

The next time I saw Charlie was when I went to lunch the next day. He saw me first and was smiling when I looked in his direction. Then to my surprise, he very discretely winked at me. Later that day I found an envelope marked, "B. Hardwood" in my box when I went to check mail.

Inside was a thank you note from "Charlene" and a chastisement for giving her something she loved so much and didn't dare wear for nearly three weeks. And at the bottom, was a note to tell me we'd be working together Tuesday night and that she was looking forward to having time to talk to me.

That talk was another eye opener. The first few minutes were almost humorous as we both were as nervous as a high school kid on his first date. There was always that very slim chance that the other person had put together an elaborate trap. The company we worked for had a policy for off shore personnel complete with special rules and regulations. One of the top reasons a person could be discharged was what they called "Inappropriate Sexual Conduct" and there were no specifics as to what was inappropriate. It was pretty much understood, though not written anywhere, that any sort of homosexual activity, including solicitation, would be reason enough to be fired. But within minutes, our stilted conversation turned to gushing like two school girls and our feminine side had come blazing through. If we hadn't been dressed in our work clothes, we might have really been camping it up.

Then, almost out of the clear blue, while we'd alluded to sex, we hadn't discussed it in any sort of detail and I was taken back for a moment when Charlie asked if I'd ever had sex with a man when I wasn't dressed. I told him that like I'd said in our earlier emails, I'd never had sex with a man, only with my friend Dickie ten years earlier and that we'd done it a few times when I wasn't dressed as Brandi, but we both liked it better when I was.

Then he dropped the bomb on me. He told me there were a few very discrete individuals that enjoyed a little bisexual contact and that the only reason he'd been accepted had been because one of the participants had recognized 'Charlene' from his days in New Orleans and how Charlene had been created with the help of a girl in his teens, then put aside until he'd turned twenty and had moved to the big city for college. He told me a few more details of how he'd picked up a girl at a party during his sophomore year at Tulane and how the girl had turned out to be a guy that worked part-time as a drag queen. He'd admitted before that he'd had some desire to try sucking a cock going back to when he'd admired some of his classmates in the gym showers when he'd been in high school. So when he'd discovered the girl had a cock in her panties, he hadn't hesitated to fulfill that fantasy. Within six months "Charlene Chanel" had joined "Melinda Moore" as an entertainer at a popular New Orleans nightclub that catered to the transgendered and their admirers. Then he added with a huge smile, "There were lot's of horny admirers and they paid well."

He went on to give me a "good news and bad news" sort of thing. The good news was that there were several of us guys that were bisexual on the rig and Charlie guessed there were several more that were as yet unknown to each other. One of them that he knew about was 'Pug' Williams, the top man on the rig, and that really surprised me. The bad news was that while Pug saw nothing wrong with a guy helping a horny buddy out with a blowjob or piece of ass, he was adamant that he didn't want any "sissy boys" on his rig. "Sounds silly I know," Charlie told me. "It's okay to suck all the pricks we want as long as we don't get caught. But pretty pink panties like the ones you gave me - thanks again - are against Pug's rules. For me, that takes a lot of the fun out of it."

"Me too," I told him. "Maybe all of the fun out of it. It's been several years since I've done it, but I've fantasized about it and in every fantasy, I was dressed as Brandi. I guess I could do it if I wasn't dressed, but I don't think I'd want to."

"And you might want to get to know Ron Hastings."

I did know Ron, but not well. He was one of the medical team on the rig and since I'd never been sick or hurt myself in any way, the only time I'd spoken to him had been in passing or if we happened to be eating at the same table. Before I could ask Charlie why I should get to know Ron, he told me.

"I showed Ron those panties you gave me and he's jealous. He said they're exactly like a pair he bought his wife and hasn't had a chance to wear yet. Ron has a real problem getting to dress as Rhonda because his wife doesn't approve. He's an old friend of Ashley and Betty, the couple from San Antonio that visit me when I'm home, and sometimes Rhonda can get away for a day to join us. But he's only a few miles from you and he's on the same rotation you are."

"Does he know I'm the one that gave you the panties?"

"No. We're pretty damn discrete about things like that. First I had to get his permission to tell you about Rhonda, and now if it's okay with you, I'll tell him about Brandi."

I nodded and assured him it was okay. But there was one question he hadn't answered and more out of curiosity than need, I asked, "So where . . . I mean how do the guys you've mentioned find privacy to . . ." "Right there is one," he told me, indicating a store room for blueprints and wiring and plumbing diagrams. "When Ron is here, he'll let a couple of guys use the infirmary while he watches, and there are a couple of other spots. Most of the time three guys make a date to meet at a certain time and the time makes a difference on where they go to get together. One guy stands watch while the other two have fun and then the guy standing watch takes a turn with one of the other two. By the way, one of the guys that loves to get blown is Thumper. Bet that surprised you."

He was right about that. The guy we called "Thumper" was John something and he got the nickname because he was a bible thumper. You could talk to the guy about the weather and a minute later he's telling you that God creates weather and segues from there into salvation. "Isn't he married? The one time I talked to him at breakfast one day, he was telling me how important the bonds of matrimony were in God's eyes."

"Adultery in Thumper's eyes means he doesn't even think about fucking anyone but his wife, but dumping a load in some other guy's mouth doesn't bother him at all."

I had to laugh about that. There'd been a story in that cross-dressing e-group from a guy that said he went to TV's for sex because his wife wasn't into sucking and he felt like if the girl he was getting head from was really a guy, it wasn't really cheating. I wasn't married but thought that if I was, I didn't think my wife or any wife would accept that theory. Then I realized that Charlie was grinning at me and I was sure I knew why.

"I don't know," I answered honestly. "I don't think I'd want to try sucking a cock unless I could do it dressed as Brandi. But I definitely want to come visit you the next time we're home and I'll try to get to know Ron better too."

As it turned out, I did get to know Ron better, as well as Charlie and his friends from San Antonio. Ashley and Betty were the ones to get Brandi back in diapers after fifteen years.

For years I had been fantasizing about cocks and getting my mouth filled with cum, and those fantasies were happening to me much more often - like night and day - but I really had no desire to suck off the guys on the rig if I couldn't dress as Brandi. Charlie understood and put me in contact with Ashley and Betty. Ron promised to spend a day or two with me as soon as he could come up with a reasonable excuse to give his wife. She always had a list of things she wanted him to do as soon as he got home. So it was Ashley that contacted me first. In fact, the phone was ringing when I walked in the door.

Ashley, who was better known in the business world as Al, worked from home doing telephone sales for a couple of different companies. As a result, he was able to stay dressed as Ashley for days at a time. What surprised me when they drove down the following day, was that Ashley had driven dressed up, which would have scared me in case I'd had car trouble or got stopped for some reason and had to show my driver's license. And something Charlie had failed to mention was that Betty was a real woman and Ashley's common-law wife. I'd spoken with them both for nearly an hour and while Betty's voice was deep for a woman, I thought sure she was a guy that just sounded more feminine on the phone than Ashley.

As it turned out, she'd been the one to get Ashley back in diapers and having heard of my experiences with Kathy in my early and pre-teens, had discussed that at length with me, getting me to admit that I'd really love to try it again. So it wasn't a surprise when they arrived for Betty to announce she was taking me upstairs to get me ready. And getting me ready turned out to be putting me in big thick diapers, ruffled plastic pants, and the cutest little sissy dress I'd ever seen. It was no wonder Charlie had been so sure I'd like them.

And when it came time to change my wet diaper, it was Ashley that did the honors with Betty watching and enjoying the show. Ashley had said he loved sucking a piss soaked cock more than anything and he sure proved it that day! I blew my first load in Ashley's mouth, my second in Betty's awesome pussy - which Ashley promptly licked clean - and I'm not sure who got the third. They were both sucking me at the same time and when I finished cumming and opened my eyes, they were kissing and passing the flavor back and forth. They were definitely a well-matched couple.

As for me, I discovered that afternoon just why Ashley thought the flavor of a piss soaked prick was so great. His pretty little cocklet was like sucking on a piss flavored Popsicle and when he came in my mouth, it was everything I'd hoped for in all those fantasies. Beginning the middle of the following week, I spent ten days with 'Charlene' and that included another three day visit from Ashley and Betty, and Rhonda got to join us for two days. At one point Charlene's house was filled with women and only one of them was really female. The rest had pretty little pricks in their panties - assuming those pretty little pricks were still in their panties and weren't in someone's mouth.

Those ten days were all it took for Charlene to convince me I should move out of my folks house and live with him in that big farm house where I could be Brandi as much as I wanted. And it was probably because of that this story has an ironic happy ending.

At the farm, I wore and wet diapers to my hearts content, meaning well over half the time. About a year later, when my folks decided to visit relatives on the West coast, they asked me to spend a couple of weeks staying at their house to house sit while they were gone. I decided for those two weeks I'd wear disposable diapers and went to the new Wal-Mart that had been built where the woods had been where I'd found Kathy's wet panties years before. In fact, when I was checking out, instead of paying attention to the cashier, my mind was on that long ago event and I was speculating that I might quite possibly be standing exactly where Kathy had peed behind that bush. As a result, I almost walked off without my credit card and the cashier called my name.

The guy behind me in line asked if I was the same Brandon Hardwood that had lived on Oak Forest and when I told him I was, he turned out to be Kathy's little brother Gordon - now fully grown - that I hadn't seen since he'd been five or six years old. We got to talking and I found out that Kathy had recently divorced and had moved back home temporarily and Gordon insisted I call her to say hello.

That "Hello" resulted in Kathy coming over. As a lark, and to see her reaction, not long after she got there I put on a diaper and nightgown and she loved it. We got to talking and before we knew it, we'd told each other all the secrets of our lives. She told me her ex had kept a drug habit hidden from her until after they'd married, and after swearing to stop numerous times, had been caught in the middle of a drug deal and had been thrown in prison. By then she'd had enough and divorced him. I told her all about how I'd never been able to completely give up my sissy side that I'd enjoyed with her and how I now lived with another sissy guy, usually dressing as two women in a lesbian sexual relationship. She told me she was supposed to go to Houston to spend a week with her best friend from college where she'd become a bigger computer genius than me and that when she got back, she wanted to meet 'Charlene' and 'Brandi'.

I was afraid Charlene might nix the idea of Kathy visiting us, and for a moment, it almost sounded like he would. But he agreed and once again Kathy changed my life – and Charlene's too.

Kathy and Charlene hit it off like long lost soul mates. It didn't take long for me to feel like a third wheel. Just as Kathy had talked with me long into the night, when it looked like she intended to do the same with Charlene, I went off to bed by myself. Charlene and I usually slept together but we maintained separate bedrooms, so when I woke up at dawn, I went to see what had happened to Charlene. The noise I'd heard must have been Kathy's orgasm, because when I stuck my head in the door to Charlene's room, Kathy was telling him how good it had been. She was naked and sitting astraddle of Charlene's hips and when she saw me, she told me, "You told me how much you love his cum, and how you always had wanted to eat my pussy. Well here's your chance to enjoy both!"

Thanks to Ashley and Betty, eating fresh fucked pussy was now on my list of favorite things and I didn't hesitate to join them. I'll have to admit that I was a little bit jealous of Charlene since I'd hoped to bed Kathy myself. Eventually I got to do that, several times, but that was before I quit the oil business, Kathy and I became business partners, and she married Charlene. Since then Kathy has come to love wearing diapers almost as much as I do. When Charlene is home we both treat her like a queen – well actually, since she is a `queen', maybe I should say royalty.

As I mentioned in the beginning, I'm now part owner of a computer sales and repair business. Most people think "K&B Computer Solutions" is owned and operated by two women. Since I got away from the oil business, I've lived almost full time as Brandi. And I'll tell you a little secret. If you happen to drop by the store to see us, and there's a sign on the door saying we'll be back in thirty minutes, it means Brandi is in the back room getting her diaper changed.

For this big sissy, life is good!

Comments appreciated: amber_fountaine@hotmail.com

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