The Locker By The Scallywags Thescallywags@aol.com
A short story by 'The Scallywags.' Please feel free to use, and abuse, this story in any way that you care. Though should you want to reproduce it, do please give us suitable credit. Thank you.
ONE:
My eyes open to discomfort and total blackness; my ears cannot discern a sound. As my senses awaken, I become aware that my jaw is really aching, primarily due to the fact that it is wedged wide open by some immovable object. I explore it with my tongue and conclude that the obstacle is a ball gag, tied securely somewhere behind my head. My attempts to remove it explain the second level of discomfort; my hands are secured behind my back by some long single glove! The glove is very tightly bound and serves to pin my arms tightly together, all the way up to my elbows. Judging by the way that my shoulders are aching, I have obviously been standing in this uncomfortable position for some time.
Where the fuck am I? How did I get to be trussed up in this manner? I rack my brain to recover an explanation as to my current predicament. The last recollection I can summon gradually lifts from the stupor still clouding my thinking. I was out for a drink with that pretty Asian cheerleader from the visiting university's football squad, what was her name? Disparate memories surface, like airplane crash wreckage on still waters. Candie. That was it, her name was Candie. We met for dinner at Truro's, then... and then we went up to her apartment for a nightcap! I remember now, I was desperately hoping to get real lucky with the luscious Candie. But what happened next? As much as I wracked my now almost clear mind, I could not fill in the blanks that lead to my current predicament. Was Candie some type of sexual predator? One who liked to keep her conquests locked away for her later amusement? That had to be it. She must have drugged and then bound me thus for her to enjoy later. Well I would show her, no one treats Alan Borne like a damned toy.
I determined to get free from the evil bitches clutches, no simple task given how securely my arms are tied behind me.
Still I tentatively explore my surroundings; very quickly surmising I am standing in some type of metal locker. There is very little room to move, not that I could do so easily anyway as I find my ankles are also bound securely. But what type of locker could contain my 6' 2" frame? I am standing straight and yet my head does not touch the top?
The fact that my ankles are also bound, for some reason, really pisses me off, and I redouble my attempts at regaining my freedom, swaying so as to bang around against the walls of my prison. I do my level best to shout for help, but the large ball gag silences me to a pitiful groaning and muffled whimpering.
As I sway within the dark, and now warm, confines, I become aware of some type of board hanging from my neck. I can feel it as it slides across my curiously sensitive chest. My attempts at making out exactly what it is around my neck are interrupted by the arrival of voices. Obviously male voices.
This altogether changes my assessment of my predicament. So the bitch wasn't looking to keep me for her own nefarious purposes, but instead has set me up as some type of sick joke. Enlightenment dawns in the shape of my recognizing that I ma bound securely within a locker, most probably, judging by the raucous hollering outside the thin steel door, a football teams changing room locker.
For some reason this calms me, setting me thinking that it is probably the work of one of my so-called friends. Mike and Stewart's names immediately spring to mind I definitely would not put it past them to play such a prank on me. Then I begin to worry about what else they might have done to me. As far as I can ascertain I still dressed, though my knees feel cold when I push them against the locker's door.
The realization that I might be unsuitably dressed, plus the unknown sign hanging over my chest, (why does it send shivers up my spine when it brushes my nipples?) decide me to silence. I might beat them at their own game if I remain undetected by the football team.
For over half an hour I remain still in increasing discomfort as I recognize the sounds of the football team disappearing in to the showers. Now if only my luck can hold true a while longer the team can go about celebrating their apparent victory and my erstwhile friends can come and extricate me from their failed gag.
TWO: Alas, it is not to be. Not long after the voices return outside my prison, still victory loud, and the door to my locker swings wide open. I am dazzled by the sudden bright light and blink wildly as my eyes rapidly adjust. I am staring straight in to the face of Jeff Crow, the universities star quarterback. His look is one of bewilderment, turning rapidly to glee "Well lookey- lookey what we have here!" He smiles an unfriendly smile. Though it is his next words that really cause me to panic. "If it isn't that snotty little chink cheerleader from NU!" as several of his cronies gather around the spectacle of me trussed up tightly within Jeff's locker, he reaches for the placard around my neck and reads it aloud. "A little present for the team from your grateful fans. Don't worry, no one will ever know, she is yours to do with as you please."
As I scream protests into my gag, my eyes are drawn to a sight below the placard Jeff still holds in his enormous hands; a garish costume in the colors of the visiting team from NU is stretched across two very obviously feminine mounds. Two mounds topped by tow little bumps that even in my ridiculously befuddled state, I recognize as being nipples. Nipples set atop two generously proportioned breasts! I have tits! Me, normal male Alan Borne has tits! But it is much worse than that, much worse, for there is no sudden realization that I am a man dressed as a woman. No sudden realization that they, also, are the butt of someone's joke. As strong hands physically life me from the locker and place me in front of the now fully attentive team, I realize two things: one, even Jeff does not possess the strength to simply lift the two hundred pound Alan Borne that easily. And two, I used to look Jeff straight in the eye, he was only two inches taller than I at 6' 4" was.
Now he towers over me by at least a foot.
No, I realize, with a gut wrenching moment of sad enlightenment, that I am no longer Alan Borne. Somehow, it appears I now inhabit the body of the self-same cheerleader who drugged me after I had paid for an expensive dinner. The worse part of this revelation is the realization that now is a particularly bad time to be trapped in this particular body. For every face that I look at is filled with primal lust. A lust of the body I am unfortunate to occupy.
As if that fact alone was not bad enough, the assorted comments directed at me suggest that the former occupier of my new body had gone out of her way to flirt with and then piss off every member of the team. Even the kicker who no one likes! Remarks of "Well you don't so fucking high and mighty now, do you Miss Fucking America!" and "Looks like we'll all get to see if I have a pencil dick or not." The tone of the conversation make it abundantly clear to the densest of them, and I realize I am currently surrounded by a fare few of those, that someone had intentionally made a very great effort to ensure that each and every member of the team feels he has a very real score to settle with me. The fact that I am bound hand and foot to stop flight or fight, and gagged to prevent me from protesting my innocence, are just further factors that make it clear to me that I am in for a very tough time of it.
I don't have to wait long for proof. With tow powerful hands, Jeff reaches out and rips open the bodice of my cheerleader's uniform; exposing my white sports bra encased breasts beneath. From no where he produces an evil looking switchblade and in seconds my bra is history.
He reaches out and yanks viciously upon my exposed nipples. "So Miss hot shot Candie, looks like you should have been a little nicer to me and the boys last Thursday. Well don't you worry your pretty little Asian head over it, it looks like you're gonna have plenty of time to make it up to us later.
He notices something down by my feet, stoops to retrieve it and comes up holding a purse: My purse. "I'll take this into safe keeping for the time being." He says as, with a final pull upon my nipples, that revolts me as it thrills me, he slams shut the locker door with a hastily whispered, "Don't worry, we'll resume this after coach leaves."
I was immediately plunged back into darkness to contemplate the horrendous fate that awaited me. Imagine, not only was it a fate that any normal woman would practically consider suicide to avoid, but try and picture to from my point of view.
Here I was a normal heterosexual man; somehow magically transferred into the body of a woman that thirty-two men felt had justified a royal gang banging! For nigh on two hours I remained tightly bound within the locker, all thought directed at the ordeal ahead of me. Try, try as I might, I could come up with no way to extricate myself. Even assuming they remove the gag and were prepared to listen to me, how could I possibly convince them that it was not I who had maliciously teased and ridiculed them? If I told them I had somehow been metamorphosed into this body against my will they would surmise I was either crazy, or it was some flimsy attempt to extricate myself from their clutches. Neither one I could really see working to my benefit. Although I realized my circumstances had changed beyond all belief, I did however retain my old mind, and as such managed to resist my new bodies powerful hormone induced urge to succumb to a bout of tears. I remained determined to somehow liberate myself and regain the old life somehow now denied me. And so I stoically stood there, spectacular though unfamiliar and currently despised breasts exposed, and awaited my fate.
THREE: I stood there listening to the barely audible plotting, then the coaches congratulating them on a great victory over NU.
Then, one by one the voices faded until I was sure no one was out there. I made a final bid for my freedom, frantically struggling to head butt open the door, but all I managed was to give myself a mild concussion.
A little while later I realized I could barely discern whispering beyond the steel door of my dungeon. The team was returning.
Once again I am momentarily blinded and then as my eyes grow accustomed to the bright glare of the locker room lights, I see the majority of the university football team surrounds me. And then to my mounting horror, I see they have bought others, including some girls, including my girlfriend, Sherri, to join in my humiliation.
Once more I am easily lifted free of the steel coffin and displayed, breasts akimbo, for all to see.
"See," crows Jeff, "I told you it was her!"
"You are right." Agreed an amused looking Sherri, "I have to admit that I thought the chances of my getting my hands on this bitch disappeared with their team bus, but here she is, right as rain, just waiting for the chance to entertain us." She moved closer and with a look of unadulterated malice, whispered to me, "Well little Miss Chinkey slut, looks like you are going to learn the errors of your ways. Looks like the girls and I are going to have an opportunity to pay you back after all.
We will show you what happens when some Asian whore comes into our university, steals my boyfriend and goes around flirting with theirs. And just you wait and see what the boys have planned for you..."
Oh fuck, Sherri must have learned of my liaison with Candie, and I suppose my subsequent disappearance, and now she obviously figured I had run off with the person whose body I was now forced to inhabit. Totally unable to defend myself, either verbally or physically, I could offer no resistance as I was unceremoniously lifted onto Jeff's wide shoulders and carried into the gym.
I was dismayed to see that much preparation and planning had gone into the nights 'entertainment', for the majority of the wide gym floor was now covered in wrestling mats, and, far worse, several video cameras were set upon tripods amid banks of bright lights. Seeing the shocked look upon my pretty face, Sherri cackled "Oh yes, we thought we would capture tonight's fun for prosperity. But don't worry, we'll be sure to send you a copy!" As laughter rained from all directions, she went on "Hell, we might even send a copy to all your friends and family who's name we found in your address book. That is unless you can lay your pretty little cock teasing hands on several thousand dollars for the originals!" More laughter from the others. Though the implications that my being trapped in this alien body for longer than tonight are what really frightens me, especially if I am to enter a life with this debut hanging over my head.
Jeff tosses me onto the mats in the center of the gym. As I sit there, leaning back upon my hands, the hungry faces that look down on me from all sides terrify me.
"We thought that we would give you the choice as to how this is to proceed," announces Jeff, "We can, obviously, do it the rough way, or, you can cooperate and make life a little easier for yourself. The choice is yours."
The old saying about when rape is inevitable, lie back and enjoy it sprung to my mind as Jeff went on, "If you do your sexiest strip for us, and the cameras, we will lend you some clothes, and offer you the chance of escape. Now I am being honest here, we like the idea of chasing you and, ideally, capturing you, but we will give you a fare head start, and a chance to escape. Providing you do a passable strip for us. Now do we have a deal?"
I know that somehow this is a trap, but what choice do I have? Even if I fail to escape, the result will be little different than if I refuse his offer. I dumbly nod my acceptance.
"OK, now I am going to free your hands and remove the gag. You will then commence the first part of your strip tease in which you will remove your current clothing. We will then stop, dress you in... more usual clothing, and you will then repeat the show. If we are satisfied, you will get dressed once more, be given your head start and try to elude us. OK?"
Again, realizing my options are zero, I nod my compliance.
Jeff then uses his knife to free my hands, ankles and remove the loathsome gag. I spend a few minutes working life back into my aching muscles, shoulders and jaw, and then stand ready to begin the ordeal.
Loud and raucous rock music blares from a boom box at the back of the gym, not exactly the tempo I had hoped for for my first ever strip show, but I press on. The crowd is not pleased with my efforts and shouts advice, well orders, as to exactly the kind of strip show that I am to perform.
I suppose it is only to be expected, given the circumstances, but they demand that I act so lewd. I am compelled to gyrate in a thoroughly obscene manner, thrusting my amazingly bouncy breasts out, cupping them and puling long on my nipples, bending over to display my seemingly over-sized ass to them and the all-seeing cameras. When I remove my panties, I am instructed to ensure that I give plentiful views of my hairy pussy. My face burns a brilliant scarlet as I assume the wanton smile they demand throughout my performance. When at last I stand naked, my body glistening with perspiration, a result of my efforts and the heat from the lights, Jeff approaches me with a look of concern on his handsome face.
"Candie, that was OK, but not really good enough. The girls think, and I have to admit we agree with them, that there needs to bee... well you need to put a little more effort into it. Plus... we think we need to touch up your make up and do a little, shall we say cosmetic improvements. OK?"
Still gasping for breath, I quickly nod my assent, I want that chance at escape, and so thinking, and I will readily comply with their every wish.
"Good. Good girl." He smiles at me while giving thumbs up to my now seated audience. Sherri and three other girls' approach, carrying several brightly colored bags. Before I know what is happening, they have wrestled me to the ground, spread my long legs wide and are busy applying a cream to my groin area. I can offer only token resistance as I feel the application of a razor and realize I am being shorn of all my black pubic hair. While one concentrates on removing every last vestige of hair from above, besides and behind my pussy, another goes to work on my toes as I recognize that my toenails are being painted. A similar, though more lengthy and different operation is occurring on my fingers, while Sherri is applying some sort of cream to my face. I can only lie there quietly as unseen by me, my toes are painted a shocking purple/pink color, had I seen what was occurring with my hands, I think it is fare to suggest that I would have put up much more of a struggle. For enormously long nails were glued over my well-tended natural ones, before being painted the same hideous color as my toes.
But it was my face with which the greatest liberties were being taken, I am sure any natural woman would have recognized exactly what Sherri was up to, but having been a normal man only hours before, I had absolutely no idea. It seems she was taking a great delight in making me look the total slut she was convinced I was. Way too much dark foundation had been worked into my every pore, before and excess of blusher gave my cheeks a whorish glow. My lips were exaggeratedly lined with a deep red, before the area below and above the perimeter was filled with a highly glossed lipstick, matching the color of the one and a half inch talons now resplendent upon my fingernails. But it was undoubtedly her work on my eyes that gave me the truly slutty look she wanted. First she lined each with a dark blue kohl pencil, even further exaggerating my Asian ancestry with their shape. Then, after instructing me in a menace filled voice to hold perfectly still, she glued two enormous false lashes to both my top and bottom natural ones. These, especially after she had coated each with at least three coats of the thickest navy blue mascara any of the girls could find, gave me a totally whorish look, most pronounced in the way I now blinked slowly due to their weight. Her final cosmetic touch was to color my eyelids with three different shades of thick and creamy eyeshadow. Firstly the outer corners of my lids were colored a dark gray, with the lids themselves glossier still with a silver shadow with pink glitter added for effect. The outer and upper parts of my lids, all the way up to my freshly tweezed eyebrows, were colored a pink/purple, with silver glitter this time.
Satisfied with their cosmetic efforts, attention was switched to my jewelry, of which I wore none bar a single ring upon my right hand and plain silver studs in both sets of piercing's in my ears.
The studs were replaced by one pair of massive gold hoops, fully five inches in diameter, and a second pair of hideous chain gold bells, so long that they broke upon my shoulders. A couple of toe rings were forced onto my feet, bracelets around each ankle and several heavy and noisy necklaces around my slender neck. But it was my wrists that I hated the most, for over each wrist was forced a total of what must have been twenty assorted bracelets. The effect was to both weigh my hands down with their weight, and to make each movement of my wrists loud and awkward as they slid up and down my arms. A total of eight rings were forced over my fingers and thumbs, each gaudier than the last.
Before I was permitted to stand and get dressed, I was drenched, absolutely smothered, in a ghastly cloud of sickly and cloyingly sweet smelling cheap perfume. A couple of aerosol cans of were produced, and the girls set about my hair, with much combing, brushing, spraying and teasing, they transformed my naturally wavy shoulder length black hair into a hideous mass of highly teased curls and bangs. Copious quantities of hair spray held the whole mess high above my head in a decidedly tricked out 'do.' Unbeknownst to me, I now looked, smelled and sounded like the cheap whore the girls intended for me to be.
As I stood, the first things I noticed were the noises from my assorted cheap jewelry and the hideous color and length of my fingernails. They were evil, like bestial talons and painted such an obnoxious color as to be unmissable. But I was ready to be dressed for my next strip show.
Sherri produced a bag of clothes, and as could only be expected, they were most definitely not of a conservative nature.
First she helped me pull brilliant white seamed stockings up my legs; I was incapable of performing this seemingly simple act due to the length of my new fingernails. A brilliant red garter belt followed next with Sherri's assistance being required once more to help secure the stocking tops to the garter tabs. A vivid green pair of thong panties was yanked forcefully home between my legs, finally covering the sight of my freshly denuded pussy from all. I was given a brassier, for want of a more fitting description, of a startling turquoise color. Luckily it was what I had always referred to as a front loader, so I was relatively easily able to secure it in place. In reality, it was little more than a shelf upon which my giant tits lay and it served to further push then up and out, and completely failed to cover my nipples which rested atop the frothy blue lace cups.
I was handed a top that was pathetic in size and cover, comprising of no more than a tiny bit of red fishnet cloth. When I worked it over my head and pulled it down as far as it would go, it began immediately under my breasts, and finished fractionally higher than my bra. It was completely see through and my nipples jutted through the netting. Still, if this was what I had to do for my chance to escape, so be it.
I was handed a skirt, equally miniscule. Though this time comprised of an opaque material, it was bright pink in color and pleated in such a manner as to ride a little higher on my hips, coming no where close to covering my stocking tops.
A pair of hideous black patent leather shoes, atop a six-inch heel and three-inch platform completed my attire. I now felt, as well as looked, like a stripper slut.
While all this had been going on, the boys had been making their own arrangements. Two chairs were now off to one side of the mats and two wildly grinning linebackers sat in them. Jeff came over to explain this change to me.
"Wow Candie, you look incredible!" I felt myself blushing beneath the copious cosmetics. "Well, are you ready?" I again nodded my ascent, too nervous to trust my voice. "Good, well this time we want it really dirty, in fact this time you are to treat Mike and Dave," he indicated towards the tow men seated, "To a real strip show. I want you to do everything in your power, short of actually touching their cocks directly, to get them off."
Christ was he serious? He apparently was as he continued. "I'm sure you've seen how real strippers do lap dances, plenty of touching them through their pants, sitting on their laps and rubbing your ass and cunt up against them?" I had seen, and indeed, in my old much missed body, experienced such delights, but to actually have to do it... Oh well, my resolve to win my chance for freedom remained and strengthened accordingly.
"Good, if you mange to get them both to bust a ball before the third song is over, we'll hold up our end of the bargain and give you a shot at escaping. OK?"
I was determined to win, no matter what the cost to my dignity. Plus, with this body what chance did they have? "Yes" I said, speaking for the first time, surprising myself with my new sexy sounding high-pitched voice.
"Good, then let's get the show going!" He cried.
And so I donned my sexiest smile, and struggling slightly atop the unfamiliar and hideously high-heels, sauntered my way onto the center of the mat in front of the two still grinning man.
The music started up again, once more a fast paced rock anthem, and I immediately threw myself into the only chance I had of hoping to avoid being gang raped. I recalled my own visits to Cheetah's, the local strip club, and did my very best to put on the kind of show I had most enjoyed.
I advanced on the two men, who had defied the odds by smiling even harder now, and licked my deep colored lips in a highly provocative manner. I dropped a long nailed hand into their two crotches, successfully fighting the bile that rose in my stomach in natural revulsion. Good, both men were already beginning to grow erect. I let my purple nailed hand linger a while, stroking and squeezing each sizable cock below while I bent over to afford each man a free look at my barely concealed breasts.
Withdrawing for the moment, I threw myself about the mats to the rhythm pumping out, being careful to ensure plentiful glimpses of the assorted treasures my new body held.
And then, once more fighting my natural revulsion, I began to strip. As the music pounded, I coquetishly removed first my top, and then my skirt so that I now wore nothing other than the flimsy ad mismatched lingerie.
I returned to the two men, this was it, time to really turn up the heat and hope I could get them off in the allotted time I thought. I smiled seductively at the first as I turned my back to him, bending at the hips to ensure my lime green thong panties were fully worked up my ass and framing my pussy. Looking back over my shoulder, I blew him a really hot kiss and lowered my shapely ass into his lap. As long as I live I will never forget the moment that my pantied ass came into contact with his erect penis, clad, thankfully, beneath thin layers of denim and cotton. Still, I had a job to do, and being sure not to forget his neighbor, who I reluctantly tweaked with my right hand, I began to slowly grind my ass against his stiff cock.
I was surprised when he thrust his hands around my waist, pulling me fully down upon his engorged member. I shot a look at Jeff, this was never permitted at any strip club I had visited, but Jeff gave a shrug of his shoulders to indicate nothing had been mentioned about it here.
Realizing I should have thought to try and establish a few rules, but it was too late now, I managed to wriggle from his grasp and regain my balance atop my unaccustomed heels.
The first record finished, I was one third of the way through my act with little to show in the way of results. I decided to up the ante and struggled to remove my bra, a task made infinitely trickier by my inch and half long nails. Still, remove it I did, and my breasts celebrated their freedom by performing a little dance all of their own as I gyrated in the most erotic manner I could envisage to another bass heavy song, this time the aptly named 'Fat Bottom Girls' by Queen. Being sure to never loose my unfelt smile, I slowly eased the tiny thong panties down my long legs, turning to afford both the my audience, and three cameras, a wonderful view of my freshly denuded pussy as I bent over to pull my vivid green panties off over my shoes. For all intents and purposes I was now naked, though presented in a manner guaranteed to raise the blood pressure in any, still live, man.
Knowing that there was no hand off policy in place, and that, subsequently, I was in for a real mauling, I turned back to my two 'helpers, and set about the task of getting their nuts off.
I climber onto the chair of the guy on the right, standing so that my hairless pussy was mere inches form his face, carefully placing my left foot between his thighs so that my toes could stroke his crotch. As feared, he pulled my groin onto his face, forcing his tongue up my pussy. I was powerless to stop him, both through a lack of rules, and through the delicious sensations his probing tongue generated inside of me. But stop him I must if I was to accomplish my task in time. I climbed back off the chair, and dropped to my keens in front of him, this was it, shit or bust time. Swallowing any residual male pride, I lowered my face into his denim groin and breathed hot air against his encumbered penis. I immediately was rewarded by feeling it twitch, I pressed home and rubbed my purple lipsticked mouth up and down it while I stroked it with both hands. Deciding to concentrate on the most sensitive spot, the underside of his glans, at least it was on my dick, when I had been fortunate enough to possess one. By blowing warm breath onto his balls, and using a ridiculously long fingernail to scratch the underside of his helmet, I soon had him leaping up and down in his chair as his orgasm hit full force. One down, one to go.
I moved over to number two and sat down in his lap facing him, my legs either side of his. As I concentrated on gently massaging his member with my naked pussy, he set about giving my tits a proper mauling, roughly squeezing, mauling and groping them to his hearts content. We were by now well into the third song, a surprisingly slow number by George Michael, which dictated my dancing become a good deal slower and more sensual.
I eased my way out of his lap, almost having to slap him as he sucked hard upon the milky white flesh of my left breast.
When he did at last release it, with a loud pop, he left a vivid red hickey, starkly contrasted against the white and untanned portion of my jug.
As I made to move away, he reached out with his incredibly powerful hands and physically lifted me off the floor. I could only yelp in surprise as he forcefully lifted me over his head, before turning me upside down and then lowering me, face first, into his lap. I was realized that entirely too weak to prevent him doing anything he so pleased, and so submitted to his liberties, as he forced his rough chin between my stockinged thighs and set about eating me out. I tried to do my level best to ignore the delicious sensations emanating from where ever his tongue tickled my most private of places and set about bringing his juices to boil. Luckily for me (did I really just say that?) he was wearing thin cotton khakis, affording me much greater access to his dick concealed within. Ignoring both the sensations of my blood rushing to my head and the incredible sensual waves originating from my pussy, I grasped the bull by the horns, or more correctly, his penis by the root, an forced my mouth over its length.
Needless to say, this was the very first time I had ever had another man's penis in my mouth, but, given the circumstances, I felt my actions justified. Doing my very best to overcome the obstacle his pants presented, I blew, sucked and generally titillated his engorged cock as best as I possibly could. Thankfully, the results were not too slow in coming, the trouble was, nor were mine. In a moment of almost perfect synchronization, we both reached that wondrous plateau of orgasm at the same time.
Thankfully, my work was done, for there was no way I could have continued as my first ever-female orgasm overcame me. I had never felt anything like it, as wave upon wave of incredible sexual ecstasy overran me. Without realizing what I was doing, I screamed and squirmed within his grasp, crying out loudly "Oh yes, oh my God yes!"
But I had done it, I had won, the last record was still playing and both my victims now sported considerable damp spots within their pants, I had done it! Jeff was quick to come over and congratulate me, though I was too pumped to notice a slight edge to his voice. "Well Done Candie, you did it, and might I say that was quite a performance, you might want to consider a profession as a stripper, you were very good."
I ignored the jibe, too flushed from my recent marvelous orgasm and the fact that I had well and truly earned my shot at freedom to care.
Jeff obviously sensed this as he said, "Well, you truly have earned your chance to escape. Sherri and the girls want to repair the worst of the damage to your face, and then they'll help you into your costu... I mean, help you get dressed for the big hunt."
I was way too elated to care what happened; instead I concentrated on exactly how I would elude them once free. With no keys, I could neither drive nor get into my old apartment, plus no one in town knew me as Candie, so there was no one to hide me from my pursuers. Still, I thought, too distracted to bother with what the girls were doing to my face and laying out for me to wear, I did possess good local knowledge and should be able to find somewhere safe to hide until they tired of looking for me, or someone helped me.
I should have been more attentive as Sherri pulled a black top over my head before helping me into some type of waste cincher, for it was only when she snapped my elbows onto two concealed clips at my waist, that I realized there might be some trickery afoot. As she viciously tightened the rear laces of the cincher, I realized, too later, there most definitely was.
For the cincher served to greatly compress my naturally trim waist, as well as firmly lock my elbows to my hips, I could only move my arms from below my elbow in pathetic little waves, no movement above that was possible at all. Worse, I now realized, the top I was now wearing was transparent black and offered my big breasts no support or contained them in any fashion what so ever. My shock at my upper dress, was completely blown away as I was pushed down into one of the chairs and surrounded by eager helpers to slide the skirt I was to wear up my white fishnet stockinged legs. For the skirt was no more than an elongated tube of black latex rubber, and it became quickly apparent that it was an incredibly tight fitting sheath of latex. But, inch by inch, they did work it up my legs, over my knees, up my thighs and finally, with help from three of the boys, up over my ass and hips. With it now fully in place, I was helped to my feet and realized I had been well and truly tricked. For the skirt was so incredibly tight, and reaching as it did to just above my ankles, permitted me virtually no gait at all. Only by taking the most tiny of teetering steps, a task not eased by the hideous heels I still wore, could I move at all. My gait was reduced to somewhere between six and eight inches, and resulted in wild movement of my unencumbered beasts. Worse still, was that the whole crew now set about pinning little bells to just about every part of my clothing you can imaging. Little gold bells now chimed sweetly from the ankle buckles of my shoes, four larger ones rang clearly from the chains securing my elbows to my hips, and yet more were adorned in a string loosely around my wide hips and around my neck. The result was that every teetering little step I took caused a cacophony of bells to ring clear, that plus send my breasts into a wild orbit.
The last piece of their surprise was a large sign that Jeff held up for me to read before he glued it to my ass, it read "Catch me, fuck me, and then get a reward! Call 555-1762 after you have enjoyed me."
As Sherri stepped in to cover me in another nauseating wave of sickening perfume, Jeff told me. "Well good luck Candie, we're going to give you a fifteen minute head start, and then we're coming after you. I feel I should warn you that the university radio has announced a special competition for which you are the prize, so good luck!"
And with that, he smacked me hard across my ass and propelled me towards the door leading out on to the muddy sports fields where my progress was further hampered by the six-inch heels I wore sinking into the soft mud below. By the time I made it across the field, I had tripped twice and was covered with slimy mud; the only good part was that I had made sure to cover the wretched sign affixed to my ass with mud so as to make it illegible from a distance. I climbed the slope leading up to the main university road, all bells a jangling, jewelry a knocking and tits a swaying, quickly scanned to see the coast was clear, and headed off towards town. The hunt was on.
Why don't you finish the story from here? Send me your completed tail and I'll see about writing my next story about you! Go on; give it a go, the more budding authors we find the better the fiction we enjoy.
Copyright: thescallywags@aol.com November 2000