Date: Thu, 27 Jan 2000 01:25:23 -0500
From: Lisa Fox
Subject: Bambi

"BABMI"

By Lisa Fox

PROLOGUE



My name is, or was, Taylor Stark.

During the spring of my sixteenth year, I met a group of older
boys and started hanging around with them. The Four Musketeers, as
I called them, had all graduated from high schools recently, and
each of them was less than a year away from getting his driver's
license, while I would only be entering my senior year in the fall
and was at least eighteen months away from my learner's permit,
and my age created several major differences between us right from
the first, so I wasn't really accepted by them until the spring
softball league started. The guys in our neighborhood had formed a
team, and when we started playing in competition, I became one of
the brightest stars on our roster. My batting and fielding weren't
all that great, but my small size and wiry frame, together with my
natural speed and grace, made me a very formidable base runner,
and as the number of bases I'd stolen climbed, my popularity with
my four newfound friends increased as well.

The leader of the group was Richard Pierce, also known as
"Dastardly" Dick, and his command over the others was never
questioned, like something instinctive, the way a pack of wolves
recognizes its leader. He was by far the most aggressive and
domineering of the guys, and of all the young men I've ever known,
he was easily the most "macho," both in word and deed. He was also
a bit neurotic, or perhaps psychotic, but I wasn't aware of that
until I got to know him better and slowly learned to be afraid of
him.

Art Rohmer was the biggest and roughest of the bunch, easily
standing six inches taller than Dick, the next largest, but he was
pretty soft-hearted underneath, and I came to think of him as a
big, dumb, friendly bear who could crush your rib cage with one
good hug, if he wasn't careful. He'd been working for his father
since he was twelve and had already developed the outlook and
attitudes of a blue-collar worker, but for all that, he was
basically a generous companion, a sympathetic listener and a lot
of fun to party with.

Though still more than six months from getting his license, Frank
Dent was the oldest of the boys, and in many ways he was also the
most mature. I think he may have been the cleverest among them as
well, perhaps developing his brains to make up for whatever he
lacked in charisma, since he was the least attractive and
personable of the four and the only one who ever had any trouble
getting dates.

Bob Lindon, on the other hand, was the handsomest of the group,
and he never had the slightest difficulty finding dates, though he
also never seemed to like any of the girls he went out with very
much. I'd often been told that I was a good-looking kid, in a
youthful, boyish sort of way, but Bob had the chiseled features
that suggested he would be a very handsome man one day, and was
already part of the way there. He was also the smallest and the
youngest, but his strong will and his notable skill as a boxer
kept him from being dominated by the older boys.

It was Bob who introduced me to the others. I first met him at a
sandlot football game; we got to talking and became good friends.
I hung around with him for a few months before he finally took me
to meet me to his older buddies, and of the four he remained my
best friend throughout.

With my success on the baseball diamond, I thought my acceptance
into Bob's group of friends was assured, but then I suffered a
series of illnesses and discovered just how "fair-weather" my new
friends really were, for they were not at all the kind of people I
believed them to be, as I was unlucky enough to discover that
summer.

And it began on a Saturday.



SATURDAY



"I'm sick of your bullshit!" Dick snarled. He rose from his chair
and glared at me angrily. "You're a fucking pussy!"

I swallowed nervously and took a step back. He was not only a lot
bigger and stronger than I was, Dick was known throughout school
for his hot temper. He once put an older boy in the hospital for
spitting on his gym locker.

"Calm down, Dick. All I said was that I can't play softball
tomorrow, because I have an earache."

The other boys looked on from their seats, still following the
boxing match on television, but giving half their attention to the
live entertainment.

"An earache, huh?" Dick scoffed.

"Yeah, an earache. It's starting to go away, but..."

"What was it last time, guys? Hay fever?"

The others grunted their agreement.

"He said his allergies were acting up," Frank recalled.

"And the time before that it was the flu," Dick continued. "It's
always something, isn't it?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "I've been sick lately."

"I say you're a pussy!" Dick growled.

"Look, I can't help it if I've got a bad ear infection, can I?" I
tried to sound defiant, hoping the other boys would come to my
defense.

"Which one is it?" Dick asked, looking at my ears.

"The right one," I said, pointing.

"Does it hurt now?"

"Well, no, actually. It only hurts if it..."

Before I could raise my arm to stop him, Dick slapped me on the
right side of my head, and my skull exploded with pain. I fell
back against the wall, dizzy and gasping hardly able to stand.

"Does it hurt now?" Dick smiled. "You bastard," I muttered, and he
raised his hand to strike again, but I cowered against the wall,
shielding my infected ear with both hands. "Don't, please."

"What a fucking pussy!" Dick roared triumphantly.

"Take it easy, Dick," Art said from the sofa. His father managed
the apartment complex where we all lived, and Art also worked
part-time around the place. "The neighbors'll complain to my old
man."

"Why don't you leave him alone?" Bob suggested, tossing his empty
beer can toward the kitchen.

"Yeah," Frank agreed. "What's the point?"

"The point is that I'm fucking sick of his excuses!" Dick snapped
back. "It's like hanging around with my little sister!"

"I'm sorry," I started, "I can't help it..."

"You make me sick," Dick said, and he knocked me to the floor with
one good shove. I collapsed on the carpet, trying to cover my ear
with my right arm as he raised his hand to hit me again.

"Please," I begged, "don't!"

"Say it!" he insisted. "Tell me you're a pussy!"

I looked to the others for help, but all three of them just sat
there watching. Dick leaned closer and drew his arm back to
strike.

"All right!" I sobbed. "Don't hit me!"

"Say it!"

"I'm a pussy," I said softly.

"Louder!"

I closed my eyes and buried my pride. "I'm a pussy, all right? Is
that what you want to hear?"

Dick nodded with satisfaction. "Good. It's about time you admitted
it. Now get up."

"What're you gonna do?"

"Just get up!"

"Hey, Dick," Bob started, "I don't think..." "Shut up!" Dick
yelled. "Keep out of this, all of you! This is between the pussy
and me!"

I struggled to my feet, finally starting to recover from the
painful smack I'd received. My ear still throbbed, but most of the
sting had gone.

"Okay, pussy," Dick commanded, "into the bathroom!"

I hesitated a moment, looking once more to the others for support,
but they did nothing, so with my eyes lowered and my shoulders
sagging in defeat I proceeded my tormentor into the bathroom of
his parents' apartment.

"Stop right there," Dick instructed, and I stood staring at the
floor tiles in silence as he started the water running in the
bathtub.

"Okay, pussy," he said with an edge of cruel humor in his voice.
"Strip."

I looked up in surprise. "Huh?"

"Take your fucking clothes off, asshole!"

For the first time, I was really afraid. I'd known Dick and the
others for less than six months, but long enough to know what they
were like... especially Dick. I'd never met a sadist before, but I
knew he was one, if anybody ever was. Each time he selected a
target for his petty cruelties I thanked the stars that the victim
was someone else; only this time it wasn't! This time it was me!

"Well, come on!" he said impatiently. "Do it!"

As he raised his hand to cuff me again, I realized I was trapped,
caught between the unknown humiliation he planned for me and the
pain to be inflicted at his hands if I should disobey. Though I
dreaded the thought of submitting to one of his degrading pranks,
my fear of the unknown was overwhelmed by the immediate threat of
physical violence. Of course, if I had known then what Dick had in
mind and how it would all work out, I would've let him beat me to
a pulp, but at the time I had no idea just how radically my life
was about to change.

"All right," I said, cringing before his upraised fist. My fingers
were trembling slightly as I unbuttoned my shirt.

"Make it snappy!" he growled, and then he checked the tub water as
I continued to undress. While the faucets were still running, Dick
took a bottle from a nearby shelf and poured some of its contents
into the churning water, and immediately the room filled with the
scent of wild flowers as a delicate pink foam rose from the tub.

I stared at the feminine bubble bath, feeling ill. Though I still
had no idea what Dick's intentions were, I was beginning to have a
terrible suspicion, too frightening to consider seriously, but
impossible to dismiss. I froze with fear, standing barefoot and
shirtless, my fingers locked on the buckle of my belt.

"Well, come on, pussy, don't just stand there!"

"What're you gonna do?" I asked with sudden concern. "I don't..."

Before I'd finished another word his fist had connected with my
ear again, and I went down in a cry of pain. As I lay there on the
tiled floor, gasping for breath, I felt Dick's hands unbuckling my
belt and tugging on my dungarees, roughly stripping off my
remaining garments. Soon the pain had subsided to a steady
throbbing, and I found myself lying naked at the feet of my
tormentor.

"Get up," he ordered, and though I struggled to obey as quickly as
I could, his hands impatiently grabbed my arm and dragged me to my
feet.

I was still in a daze, and nothing seemed quite real. I merely
looked on as the older boy guided me toward the tub, and though I
felt the steaming water on my skin as he forced me to get in, it
seemed like it was happening to someone else. I settled down amid
the pink bubbles and leaned back, closing my eyes with a muffled
sob.

"Clean up," Dick commanded, and he tossed a washcloth at me. "I
want you squeaky clean, as clean as you can get, and I'll be back
in ten minutes to check on you."

I heard the door close behind him as he left to make further
arrangements for my humiliation, and it took all my remaining
strength to suppress my sobs and stop the tears from falling.
Swallowing hard, I clenched my teeth and began to wash myself as
Dick had instructed. My only hope was that it would all be over
soon, so I could rid my life of these so-called friends of mine.
If I had only known what a false hope that was, I would've jumped
out the second-story window and run down the street, naked and
screaming for help. yet I had no real clue regarding the strange
and horrifying fate that awaited me, so I let myself be bullied
into submission until it was finally too late to resist. When Dick
returned to the bathroom, he was carrying a tall chair with him.
It was really like a stool with arms and a backrest, and he placed
it in the middle of the floor facing the mirror. Then he tossed me
a towel and ordered me to climb out of the tub and dry myself off.

As I emerged from the pink foam I noticed with dismay that the
fragrant scent of wild flowers now clung to me like perfume. I
toweled dry, grateful to have something with which to cover my
nudity, until Dick took the towel roughly from me and ordered me
to sit in the chair he'd brought.

Seated as instructed, I watched in frightened fascination as he
took a roll of silvery duct tape from the cabinet and tore off
long strips. After placing my hands and feet the way he wanted
them, he ordered me to sit still while he began to bind me to the
chair with tape. First he secured my feet to the crossbar of the
chair, placing the tape in such a way as to prevent me from
getting up or even wriggling my toes. My hands were then similarly
confined, with the tape covering my knuckles, holding my palm
pressed flat to the arm of the chair, so that I literally couldn't
move a finger.

I was just about to ask him what he was doing when he surprised me
by placing a strip of tape over my mouth, effectively silencing
me, except for my muffled protests. I tried unsuccessfully to
scream, and I thrashed about quite violently in the chair, trying
to get loose, but Dick's bonds were much too efficient. I was a
helpless prisoner, and it was only just beginning to dawn on me
that Dick was far from finished with humiliating me.

The door opened just then, and I turned my head to see Art
standing in the hallway. His eyes widened when he saw me securely
bound to the chair, but he said nothing. With only a casual nod to
Dick, he entered the room and stood over the toilet. When he'd
finished urinating, he left the room without a word, and I began
to realize just how hopeless my situation was. No one would come
to my rescue. I was alone, trapped and helpless, in the hands of a
sadist.

"Now," said Dick as he rummaged through the drawers of the sink
cabinet, "here's where the fun begins."

When he finally found what he was looking for, I gasped and felt
my heart start to pound. The small package he carried as he
approached me was undoubtedly one of those instant press-on false
fingernail kits, the kind used by women to repair or simulate
long, sculptured fingernails. My eyes were practically bulging out
of my head as I watched him prepare the first nail with adhesive
and place it carefully over the nail of my right index finger. I
tried to move my hand, but the way my fingers had been taped down,
I couldn't interfere with Dick's plans in the slightest.

Finger after finger, I could only look on in horror as he
transformed my hands into the slender, delicate-looking hands of a
girl Once he'd finished attaching the false fingernails, he
immediately began to paint them with bright pink nail polish that
made my hands seem even more feminine and girlishly attractive. As
a final insult to my manhood, he knelt down and added pink polish
to my toenails, making my feet seem as pretty and dainty as a
teenage girl's.

He stood back a moment, admiring his handiwork with a broad grin.
"Very pretty."

I tried once more to struggle out of the chair, but it was
impossible. Dick watched me, amused by my helplessness, then
picked up a women's fashion magazine from a rack of periodicals
bedside the toilet, thumbing through the pages looking for
something. When he found it, he spread the magazine open on the
counter before him, and much to my dismay I saw that he had turned
to a section on cosmetics and their general application.

"Now, be a good little pussy and just sit still," Dick warned, and
as he came toward me I saw that he held a pair of tweezers in his
hand. "This won't hurt too much."

With one powerful hand he held my head down and back, rigidly
still despite my best efforts to thwart his plans, and with the
other hand he began removing hairs from my eyebrows with the
tweezers. It went on for a long time, and there were tears in my
eyes from the minor stinging pains he kept inflicting on me, but
finally he was satisfied and let me raise my head again.

It was a shock to see myself in the mirrors My eyebrows had been
plucked to two fine, arching lines high above my lashes The effect
was to make my face seem much younger and somewhat girlish in
appearance. Then it hit me... Unlike the false fingernails and
nail polish, which could be removed, or the scent of perfume that
lingered on my skin, which would eventually wear off, my plucked
eyebrows were relatively permanent. True, they'd grow back after a
few weeks or months, but in the meantime I knew of no way to undo
or even conceal what Dick had done to me.

My tears were flowing freely now, which seemed to please my
tormentor no end. He stood grinning at me for a while, amused by
my plucked eyebrows and the grief they caused me. Then he removed
the tape over my mouth and warned me to keep quiet, or he'd toss
me out into the street exactly as I was. It was a warning I took
very seriously.

What happened next was almost too much to bear. Still smiling his
wicked smile, Dick produced a can of shaving cream and began to
lather up my face, but he didn't stop there. He continued down my
neck to my chest, then smeared a handful of cream under each of my
armpits. The cool, white foam was then applied to my crotch, my
thighs and the rest of my legs. When he was finished I looked
quite ridiculous, gaping at him from beneath plucked eyebrows, my
body almost entirely covered in shaving cream.

It shouldn't have surprised me when he took a razor from the
cabinet, but my reaction was one of such horror that I could only
sit there and stare as the stainless steel blade glided over my
skin, removing the shaving cream and with it my body hair. He
started at my right ankle and worked his way up, denuding my legs
one after the other. Then he went to my chest and underarms,
carefully removing the hair from there as well. Then he shaved my
face as close as possible, leaving not a trace of stubble. Finally
he brought the razor to bear on my crotch, and with a wicked grin,
he shaved away my pubic hairs.

I was emotionally numb by the time he started wiping away the last
bit of shaving cream from my body. Never in my life had I ever
experienced such an ordeal as this, and with a terrified shudder I
began to realize that this was only the beginning.

My tears had stopped, and Dick used a tissue to dry and clean my
face. Then he put some flesh-colored lotion on my complexion and
began rubbing it in, spreading it evenly about my cheeks,
forehead, nose and chin. When hew was finished, he took a brown
pencil from his mother's vanity drawer and drew over my newly
plucked eyebrows to make them even more noticeable.

Then he started working on my eyes. A thin, black line was drawn
around the rim of each eyelid, along the base of my eyelashes, and
then the lashes themselves were brushed with a mascara wand that
coated them with dark liquid, over and over again, until they were
so thick and dense I could feel their weight with each blink of my
eyes.

The final application of cosmetics was to my lips. First my mouth
was outlined in a dark pink, making it seem a little larger and
more pouting. Then I felt a smooth, creamy film of lipstick being
smeared over my lips, again and again, until the excess was
blotted away and my make-up was complete.

When I saw my reflection in the mirror again, I was aghast. The
image in the looking glass was no longer mine at all, but that of
a short-haired, flat-chested girl My face was so obviously
feminine that it made the rest of me seem girlish as well,
especially with my shaved legs and painted nails! A face that
pretty couldn't possibly belong to a boy! Her long, dark eyelashes
fluttered sexily beneath high, arcing eyebrows. Her skin was
smooth and unblemished, and the pink lips of her mouth were so
sensuous they almost demanded to be kissed. Yet that was MY face!
That pretty girl was ME!!

"Say, you're quite a looker," Dick said, obviously pleased with
the results of his labors. "Now just sit there quietly while I go
get you some clothes. Don't go away!"

He left the room laughing, and for a few minutes I was left alone
with my thoughts, which as you can imagine were quite troubled.
What was I going to do? How could I get out of this terrible
humiliation? Dick obviously planned to dress me up completely as a
girl and then force me to parade my feminine looks before the
other guys. I wasn't sure I could go through with something like
that, not without having a nervous breakdown first, yet it looked
as if I would have no choice in the matter.

As much as I hated to admit it, Dick had me just where he wanted
me, and there was nothing I could do about it. If I tried to
resist his mad schemes at this point, he was sure to make me
suffer for it, suffer in ways I probably couldn't even imagine.

My only hope of getting through this with as little shame as
possible was to follow Dick's instructions without question. Then,
maybe, he'd have a little fun at my expense and let me go,
humiliated but still alive, uninjured and relatively sane. It
would be bad, no doubt, but what might happen if I fought back
could be a lot worse. A lot worse.

When Dick returned he was carrying some of his mother's clothes.
Since she and I were approximately the same size, I had no doubt
that her clothes would fit me well enough, which Dick was
obviously counting on.

"Why are you doing this to me?" I asked meekly, hoping not to get
him upset.

"Because you're a pussy," he said as he sorted through the ladies'
undergarments he held, "and you should dress like one."

"Please don't do this," I begged timidly. "Please."

"Shut up," he sneered, "before I belt you again."

I remained silent after that.

He began dressing me by first untaping my feet, with a stern
warning not to try anything cute. I had to lift my bottom off the
seat cushion as he drew a strange, clinging undergarment up my
legs, past my waist and up to my smoothly shaven chest. It fit me
like a girl's one-piece bathing suit, hugging my crotch so tightly
that my masculine bulge was no longer evident, and it cinched my
waist in to slim, feminine proportions. On top, it sported two
large, empty cups, but they didn't remain empty for long. Dick had
brought two deflated party balloons, pink in color, and as I
watched he cleverly filled each one with warm water from the tap,
tied them tightly and positioned them inside the cups of my
undergarment with the knots placed in such a way as to simulate a
pair of erect nipples.

"You're such a lucky girl," Dick grinned, massaging my false
breasts as though they were real. "Lots of girls would kill to
have a nice big set of tits like these."

Then he leaned closer and winked at me. "And everybody knows how
the guys really get turned on by big breasts."

I looked away, too ashamed to meet his evil gaze, but well aware
that he spoke the truth. Any guy who saw me now, who didn't know
who I really was, would be totally excited by my newly feminized
appearance. To almost every male on the planet, I'd appear to be
nothing more or less that a "hot chick," a "knockout babe," a
young woman "built like a brick shithouse," and no guy in his
right mind would throw me out of bed. It was hard for me to admit
it, but I made one hell of a pretty girl.

I had to point my pink-nailed toes, first on one foot, then the
other, to accept the rolled-up nylon sheath as Dick slipped a pair
of sheer pink pantyhose onto my legs. The material clung to my
smoothly shaven legs like a second skin, adding a delicate pink
tint to my flesh. I had to raise my bottom from the seat again to
allow Dick to pull the top of the pantyhose into place, and the
added constraint over my crotch helped to conceal my maleness even
more.

Once in place, the nylon covering made my skin feel strange, as
though wrapped in butterfly wings or rose petals. Even stranger,
my legs appeared incredibly feminine in the sheer ladies' hosiery,
not like my legs at all, but like the legs of a beautiful actress
or fashion model. I could also see my painted toenails through the
seamless toe of each stocking, adding to the girlishness of my
appearance.

For a moment, Dick paused, his eyes fixed on my nylon covered
thighs with an eerie intensity. Then his hand moved over my leg,
and a chill ran down my spine as I felt his fingers touch my skin
through the pantyhose.

"What're you doing?" I whispered, trembling slightly.

He seemed momentarily confused, as though waking from a ; dream,
and then his eyes met mine angrily.

"Shut up!" he growled. "And keep it shut!"

With another stern warning, Dick set to work unwinding the tape on
the chair arms, releasing my hands. The glue had set by now, and
the false fingernails were firmly attached to my own. They made my
hands look and feel so strange, as if they weren't my hands at all
anymore, but the hands of a real girl. Unconsciously, I even
seemed to be moving my hands in a feminine manner, with graceful,
girlish gestures I couldn't control.

Still seated before the mirror, I had to raise my arms and allow
Dick to lower one of his mother's dresses over my head and down
onto my female figure. It was a light, silky dress with a very
short, flaring skirt, puffy sleeves and a demure neckline. The
material was pastel blue with pink paisleys, and it clung to my
girlish curves as if it had been made for me. The skirt barely
reached my mid-thigh as I sat there, and I knew it would rise much
higher once I stood up. Somehow the hem of my dress seemed to make
my legs look even more gorgeous, and very sexy.

Then Dick knelt before me again, and I had to hold still as he
slipped a pair of delicate high-heeled sandals

onto my feet. Each of the ladies shoes were sky blue leather, with
one set of straps crossing over the instep and another circling
the ankle. As Dick fastened each dainty buckle I felt as if I were
being confined into some sort of ; torture device. If possible,
the sandals made my legs seem even more beautiful and sexy than
before.

"And now," Dick smiled, removing a leather hatbox from the closet,
"the finishing touch."

Unzipping the container, he lifted the top to reveal a wig of
golden blonde hair resting on a Styrofoam stand. The hairpiece was
silky and shining and had been cut into a youthful, sexy style
with bouncing bangs and a little wave at the ends of its shoulder-
length tresses. I'd seen his mother wear it now and then, and it
somehow made her look younger. I grimaced as he lifted it from its
stand and placed it on my head.

Dick spent a long time fussing with the wig, applying some kind of
glue to my hairline and messing with dozens of clips and pins, but
when he finally let the hairpiece fall into place around my face,
the effect was staggering. It was the final ingredient in my
conversion from a slim, good-looking boy to a sexy, gorgeous girl.
The golden tresses surrounded my angelic face like the gilded
frame of a masterpiece, complimenting and even enhancing the
beauty contained within. The bangs tickled my forehead, and the
longer strands brushed my shoulders and back; strange new
sensations that combined with my ladies apparel to make me feel
quite different than I had ever felt before. It was as though I
somehow inhabited a new body, the soft, shapely body of a very
pretty young woman.

I sat there gaping at my reflection for a moment, unable to
believe that the pretty girl in the mirror was really me, but then
my thoughts were interrupted abruptly when Dick placed his hand
over my mouth and turned my face toward him. His fingers squeezed
my cheeks, and my lips puckered comically, but I wasn't laughing;
I was too terrified by the sadistic gleam I saw in my tormentor's
eyes.

"Now listen up, pussy," he said, menace dripping off each word.
"From now on, until I say different, you're a girl."

He paused to let the word sink in. As it did, I started to
protest, but he silenced me at once.

"Starting right now," he continued," you're gonna talk like a
girl, walk like a girl, sit, stand, eat, drink and think like a
girl, understand? Otherwise, I'm gonna smack you so hard your ears
won't stop ringing for a week!"

I felt tears in my eyes, but I fought them back. How could this
have happened? What could I do to resist? I had lots of questions,
but no answers.

Suddenly he tipped the chair forward, and I was forced to scramble
to my high-heeled feet. I almost stumbled in the unfamiliar shoes,
but managed to keep my balance, though I did sway a bit at first.
Standing on those tall, thin heels wasn't as hard as it looked,
and I could even take tiny steps to correct my balance without
difficulty. It was the way those shoes effected my posture that
really upset me, for the heels made my legs seem longer and
slimmer, while making my bottom stand out in a very feminine way.

"Let's see you walk," Dick said, and I took a few hesitant steps
toward him.

"No, no!" he growled. "Swivel your hips, side to side, that's it,
and make your butt squirm more. More! That's right!"

I found that by placing the heel of one shoe directly before the
pointed toe of the other I could induce my pelvis to gyrate in the
coquettish manner that Dick demanded. He had me walk back and
forth across the bathroom to practice, and soon I found the
motions coming quite naturally, as if the clothes I was wearing
insisted on a smooth, feminine gait. Little by little, Dick kept
changing my posture. When he was finally satisfied, my right hand
was resting delicately on my hip, my slender fingers pointing
toward my crotch, my elbow out to the side; my left hand was
riding palm-down on the upward curve of my bottom, fingers splayed
downward, my elbow swept back behind me; shoulders back, chin up,
eyes forward. I felt like a fashion model preparing to walk on
stage as I took a few dainty steps toward the mirror.

My reflection was even more shocking when I beheld the decidedly
feminine poise and grace with which the girl in the mirror was
moving. Her stance, her stride, her mannerisms, all said GIRL in
capital letters. What was even more unnerving was the way Dick
kept looking at me. No guy had ever looked at me that way before,
and it made me very uneasy. I felt like a candy bar waiting to be
eaten by a hungry kid.

"Okay, pussy," Dick said, suddenly opening the door to the
hallway. "It's showtime."

I froze, glaring at him in horror. "I can't."

"C'mon," he snarled, grabbing my wrist and pulling me toward the
door. "You didn't get all dolled up just to hang around in the
bathroom. We've got to show you off."

"No! I can't go out there like this!" I tried to resist, but my
high heels afforded me no proper footing against his superior
strength, and I found myself being dragged out into the hall.
"Please, Dick! Don't make me do this! Please!!"

He just stared at me with a threatening look, then pointed toward
the living room. I could hear the television out there announcing
the results of the boxing match, and I thought of my three former
friends sitting around, drinking beers, completely unaware of what
Dick had done to me. I glanced down at the twin mounds on my
chest, the miniskirt and pink nylons, the high-heeled sandals
sporting pink toenails, and I dreaded the idea of parading about
in that get-up before those guys. They'd never let me live it
down. I'd be humiliated for life, but from the look on Dick's
face, I really had no choice.

"Remember, you're a girl," he whispered as he urged me forward.
"Walk the way I told you to, and don't say anything unless I give
you permission to speak."

I nodded and reluctantly began my sexy strut down the hallway to
the living room. The tap-tap of my high heels on the floor
announced my arrival, and the guys were all gazing curiously over
their shoulders as I turned the corner. Their eyes went wide with
surprise and disbelief as they scanned my girlish attire, my
hourglass figure, my smooth legs and sexy walk. I couldn't meet
their startled gazes, so I stepped forward into the room with my
eyes lowered in shame, knowing without looking that Dick was right
behind me, smiling broadly.

For a minute they just stared at me in silence. Then the wonder in
their eyes began to change to acceptance, then approval and
something worse. It was the same look of desire I'd seen in Dick's
eyes earlier. They wanted me, the way horny guys want a pretty
girl, and only the knowledge of my real identity kept them from
acting on their desires.

"I don't believe it," Art said finally.

"It's incredible," Bob agreed.

"I told you she was a pussy," Dick grinned. "She tried to dress
like a guy, but I saw right through her disguise and convinced her
that from now on she should drop the pretending and dress like a
girl."

"Damn," Frank muttered. "He really does look like a girl, doesn't
he?"

"SHE," Dick insisted. "She IS a girl, got it?"

"What'll we call her?" Art asked, playing along with him. "She
needs a name."

"How about 'Bambi'?" Frank suggested.

"Bambi was a boy, you idiot," Bob argued.

"So," Frank replied, "this Bambi was a boy, too, before Dick got
hold of her."

"I like it," Dick smiled. "We'll call her Bambi."

Throughout this entire exchange I just stood there, head bowed in
shame, unable to believe what was happening. Not only did the
other guys voice no objections to what Dick had done to me, they
actually seemed to be enjoying my discomfort.

"Bambi," Dick said, stepping before me, and I looked up in
recognition of my new name.

"Go get me a beer," he commanded.

I hesitated only a moment, then nodded sadly and began walking
toward the kitchen. I could feel their eyes on my wriggling bottom
as my hips swayed back and forth beneath the silky material of my
skirt, and I fought hard once again to keep the tears from
breaking free, knowing that crying would only add to my
humiliation. I pushed stray strands of long, blonde hair from my
face as I crouched in my nylons and heels before the open
refrigerator door, grabbing a beer bottle and unscrewing the twist
top with my long, pink + fingernails, and I found every sensation
to be different and strange, a constant reminder of my new status
as a girl.

When I returned to the living room, Dick and the others were
seated before the television as before, watching baseball
highlights as if nothing unusual had happened. I stepped beside
Dick's chair and held out the bottle for him, but he just looked
at me and shook his head.

"In a glass," he said, then turned back to the screen.

I stood there a moment, wanting to break that bottle over his
skull, but dressed as I was made him seem even more intimidating
than usual, so I just cast a heavy sigh and headed back toward the
kitchen, knowing there was nothing I could do to escape my new
position as Dick's slavegirl.

As I left the room, I noticed the guys all sneaking glances at my
swishing rear, and I felt my cheeks blush to think that they were
secretly attracted to me sexually. Despite the fact that they knew
who I really was, they still watched me exit the room the way they
would any good-looking girl, and I wondered with a chill if any of
them were getting erections from watching me.

When I returned with Dick's glass of beer, each of the others
began making similar requests, one at a time, so that I was forced
to walk to the kitchen and back over and over again, until it
became painfully obvious that they were simply making me parade my
girlish bottom for their amusement. I hated them for what they
were doing to me, and at that time I wanted nothing more than to
get as far away from them as possible, but all I could do was obey
their instructions and hope they would release me soon.

After they'd run out of errands in the kitchen for me, Dick forced
me to pose in various sexy positions as he took my picture with
his instamatic camera. Then I was ordered to make myself useful,
"like a good girl," and do some housework as he continued to
photograph my plight. First he had me fetch a dustcloth and
furniture polish, and I was put to work on the tables and
bookshelves. Then I had to empty and wash all the ashtrays, water
the plants and put away Dick's recently laundered clothes. I had
no chance to rest at all, and my feet were starting to hurt in
those unfamiliar high heels, but I refused to give them the
satisfaction of hearing me complain, so I gritted my teeth and did
my best to wait it out in silence.

I was just starting to wash the front picture window, as
instructed, when I heard a sound that stopped my heart... the
doorbell! I turned and glared at Dick in fear, wondering who it
might be and afraid to let anyone else see me dressed as a girl.
Art, Bob and Frank also seemed a bit apprehensive about who it
might be and what might happen if someone found out what had been
done to me, but Dick was completely unruffled. He simply put his
camera away and smiled at me with that wolfish grin.

"Get the door, Bambi," he said calmly.

I just stood there staring at him in disbelief.

"Go on, girl," he insisted. "Go see who it is."

It was necessary for him to raise his hand and threaten another
painful blow before I finally gave in and agreed to open the door.
I approached the atrium slowly, reluctantly, like a virgin walking
toward a sacrificial altar. I took a deep breath that made my
false breasts swell inside my bra, then let my pink-nailed fingers
encircle the doorknob. I tried to force a pleasant half-smile onto
my girlish lips as I stepped back and swung the door open, ready
to greet whatever stood beyond with all the courage I could
gather.

I almost gasped when I saw who it was, but I managed to hide my
surprise and dismay behind a look of disinterest. Of all the
people I knew who lived in our apartment complex, there was
probably no one that I, in my present predicament, would have
wanted to avoid more than Mike, but that's exactly who I found
standing outside on the stairway.

"Hey there, gorgeous," he smiled up at me, "where'd you come
from?"

His eyes were wandering over my feminized form like it was a
sirloin steak cooked just the way he liked, and he was hungry. I
couldn't help a nervous gulp in my throat, which he noticed with
great satisfaction.

It was rare that Mike dropped by for a visit. He was a few years
older than we were and a member of the local motorcycle gang, so
he was usually off cruising on his bike with his buddies and some
babes. We generally only saw him when he needed something,
although each of us had at one time or another bragged that Mike
was "a close friend." In truth, we were all scared to death of
him, and he knew it.

He hesitated only a moment before pushing past me and strolling
into the living room as if he owned the place. Standing well over
six feet tall and carrying more than two hundred pounds of solid
muscle, he was an intimidating figure, and with his studded
leather jacket, complete with steel chains, he looked like a
character from a really bad nightmare.

"Hey, amigos," he said in a deep, booming voice.

The others responded with a chorus of "Hi, Mike!" and Dick offered
him the most comfortable chair.

"Bambi, go get Mike a cold beer," Dick commanded, and when I
hesitated, he added, "Move it, girl!"

Not knowing what else to do, I followed his instructions and
walked to the kitchen, knowing that now five pairs of male eyes
would be fixed on my wiggling backside as I left the room, and one
of those five males believed that I was really female.

"Who's the babe?" I heard Mike say, and Dick explained that I was
new to the neighborhood.

"What's she doing here," Mike asked incredulously, "with you
guys?"

His pride wounded, Dick responded to the implied insult with some
boastful and creative lies, claiming that I, as a girl, was so
hung up on him that I was virtually his slave. Not only would I do
anything he told me, I'd also serve his friends, waiting on them
hand and foot, just to please him.

Overhearing this, I felt my sense of shame deepen. Now, to protect
my real identity, I'd have to play the part Dick had created for
me. To keep Mike from discovering the truth about me, I'd have to
pretend to be a real girl in front of him. But what was worse, I'd
also have to pretend that I was infatuated with Dick, so much so
that I'd serve his every whim without question. I doubted very
much that I'd be convincing in the role, but I had little choice
other than to try my best.

Strutting sexily on my heels, I minced back into the living room
and stepped beside Mike's chair, a big recliner that somehow
seemed too small for him. His big hand reached up and took the
bottle from me, and I was mortified to see how dainty and feminine
my own hand looked in comparison. Not knowing what else to do, I
just stood there waiting for further orders.

For a while the guys were involved in watching a special on the
coming Olympic Games, and for the most part I was forgotten, which
was fine with me, but after a few minutes I noticed that Mike was
glancing at me, briefly at first, but then with increasing
frequency, until he was virtually staring at me. His gaze made me
even more uncomfortable than I already was, and I tried to ignore
it, but I couldn't help peeking at him out of the corner of my
eye, like a rabbit fascinated by an approaching wolf, and each
time I did he would smile at me and wink rather suggestively.

I pretended to be interested in the television program, hoping
he'd leave me alone, but much to my horror I felt his hand
encircle mine in a powerful grip and pull me closer. Before I
could correct my balance on those teetering heels or utter a
single sound of protest, I found myself falling over the arm of
the chair straight into his embrace. He spun me around as I
toppled over him, so that I landed with my plump, girlish behind
right on his lap. My arms were quickly pinned to my sides as he
pulled me tight against his chest with one hand, cradling me like
a child, while his other hand grasped my chin and tilted my face
toward his irresistibly.

My eyes were wide with fear as they met his gaze and saw the
passion burning there, a fierce, demanding passion I had never
seen in anyone before and never wanted to see again. He wanted me,
the way a man wants a woman, and the very thought of that made my
skin crawl.

"Tell me something, beautiful," he said softly. "Are these guys
giving you what you need?"

I was too stunned to reply. My mouth tried to form words, but no
sounds would come out.

"I've been around," Mike continued. "I know how much a pretty girl
like you needs sugar."

"Sugar?" I managed to whisper. Through gaps in my long, blonde
tresses I could see the other guys staring at us with a mixture of
surprise, bewilderment, concern and amusement on their faces. They
didn't seem to know what to do, but they obviously weren't going
to help me, since they did nothing but observe.

"Yeah, sugar," Mike repeated. "You know..."

My heart skipped a beat as he suddenly leaned over and kissed me
on the lips. It was a long, lingering kiss, deeply passionate and
demanding, unlike anything I'd ever experienced before. I was so
startled that I simply froze, uncertain what to do as I felt his
lips descend onto mine caressing my mouth with his in a firm yet
tender embrace.

When our lips finally parted I was still too shocked to move or
speak. I could hardly even think. A boy had kissed me! On the
lips! And he liked it! His eyes were glowing with pleasure, and
his smile was wide and warm.

"Sugar," he explained, "like that. Have these guys been giving you
enough?"

In a trance-like daze, I nodded my head, hoping he'd leave me
alone now, but in the back of my mind I knew he was only getting
started. He was a guy, and guys lusted after girls, and he thought
I was a girl, so... I felt myself begin to tremble in his arms.

"Bambi gets all the sugar she needs," I heard Dick say, and the
peculiar tone I noticed in his voice made me curious .

I glanced over at the guys and was surprised to see how frightened
they were. For a moment I didn't understand, but then it all came
clear to me in an instant...

Mike had kissed me!!

So far it had been a traumatic experience, but it would get an
awful lot worse if Mike were to find out who I really was. He was
a big, tough biker with a mean disposition and a poor sense of
humor, and if he ever learned that he'd been fooled into kissing
another guy... look out!

My former friends were obviously worried about the possible
consequences if Mike should learn the truth. For setting him up
like that, he'd probably beat them all senseless, thinking that
they'd done it on purpose as a joke. A chill ran down my spine. If
he'd beat them up just for keeping my real identity a secret, what
would he do to me? It seemed highly likely that he'd kill me!

So, it was no longer just my fear of Dick that kept me playing my
part, for I now had a much bigger worry. So long as Mike thought I
was female, I was safe, safe from being beaten to death anyway, so
no matter what happened from that point on, I had to make sure
that Mike never learned my true sex. If he did, I was history.

"The fact is, girls can never get enough sugar," Mike told Dick,
then turned back to me. "Isn't that right, gorgeous?"

I didn't know what to say. I certainly didn't want to agree with
him, but I was afraid to contradict him.

"Especially pretty girls," he added, "like you."

I almost gasped when I felt his hand sliding up underneath my
skirt, massaging my thigh through the pantyhose. I placed my
girlish hand over his strong forearm and tried to push his
questing fingers away, but he was too powerful and too determined.
He just smiled at me and kept reaching further and further under
my skirt. His fingers were only inches from my crotch and getting
closer by the second. Within moments he would discover what was
hidden between my legs, and the fate that would befall me then was
too ghastly to contemplate. I had to do something! Anything!

In a mounting panic, I tried to climb off his lap, but he simply
pulled me back down and continued groping toward my crotch. I
could feel his erection against my pantied bottom as I twisted and
squirmed in his lap, noting with dismay that it grew even harder
as I rubbed against it in my struggles. Turning toward him, I was
able to slide partially toward the floor, though the motion did
cause my skirt to rise up, revealing my pink panties and smooth,
featureless crotch. For a moment he tried to stop me and pulled me
back into his lap, but then he smiled and let me continue sliding
down his legs.

At first, I was relieved. Kneeling on the floor between his legs,
it was no longer possible for him to reach my crotch, so my secret
was safe again, but when I tried to rise and back away from him I
realized what I'd now gotten myself into, and the expression "out
of the frying pan into the fire" came to mind.

"Oh, I see what you want," Mike grinned at me. While one hand held
me tightly, keeping me from moving away, his other hand went to
the zipper of his trousers. "You're hungry, are you?"

I glared in horrified fascination at the rigid pole of flesh he
pulled out through the open zipper, and the thought of what he
expected me to with it made me feel suddenly sick to my stomach.
There was no way I could do something like that! No way!!

"Don't be bashful, honey," Mike insisted, grabbing me by the back
of my head and forcing my face down into his crotch. "It's all
yours."

I pressed my lips tightly together and turned my face away,
unwilling to do as he instructed, yet unable to escape this
confrontation. I looked to the other guys for support, hoping
they'd feel that things had gone far enough and would help me, but
no such luck. Dick even nodded for me to go ahead, silently
forming the words "Do it!" with his lips.

"What're you waiting for, sweetheart?" Mike asked impatiently. His
grip grew tighter on the back of my neck, and I winced in pain.
"You want to start with some rough stuff first?"

"No!" I gasped. "Please, don't hurt me!"

"All right, then," he nodded. "Get to work."

I swallowed hard and let my gaze return to the erection standing
firm and tall before me. I couldn't touch THAT! I couldn't!! Yet I
had no choice! The only way out of this in one piece was to give
Mike what he wanted, so no matter how disgusting it might be, I
had to submit.

My hands were trembling as I reached up and took the base of his
pulsing organ between my girlish fingers and began to stroke him
up and down, slowly at first, then faster, keeping up a smooth,
steady rhythm that seemed to please him. I knew just how to handle
his manhood from years of practicing on my own male tool, and he
obviously enjoyed my attentions.

"Kiss it, Bambi," he instructed. "Put your soft, sweet lips on
it."

Closing my eyes in shame, I bent forward and planted a big, juicy
kiss on the head of his organ. I felt it throb against my lips in
response, and I almost gagged.

"Suck it, girl," Mike sighed with pleasure. "Suck me off."

Fighting down the last shreds of male pride and the final dregs of
resistance, I opened my mouth and let his manly flesh slide
between my lips. I gave him pleasure reluctantly at first, letting
my tongue caress his warm staff as I slowly drew it in and out of
my mouth, but when he began to respond, tensing and trembling with
jolts of pure ecstasy, I tried harder to satisfy him, knowing that
the sooner he came, the sooner he would go. Licking and sucking
and jerking my head up and down, I crammed his male meat as far
into my mouth as it would go and stimulated him in every way I
could. I thought back on blowjobs I had gotten in the past and did
my best to imitate those girls who had pleased me most. Little did
I suspect back then that someday I'd be using their techniques
myself on another guy.

Whatever I was doing, it was effective, because after a few
minutes Mike's erection was about as stiff as it could get. It
felt like an iron bar between my lips. Suddenly he shuddered and
gasped, and I felt his organ quiver. Then his erection throbbed
violently, once, twice, again, and I felt a warm, sticky fluid
with a salty taste erupt inside my mouth. I swallowed as quickly
as I could and sucked every last drop from the tip of his organ
before finally letting the limp but satisfied penis fall from my
lips.

"Wow!" Mike sighed. "That was incredible!"

Unable to look at him or any of the others, I busied myself by
putting his shriveled manhood back into his pants and pulling up
his zipper.

"Bambi," he said, and I reluctantly lifted my head to meet his
gaze. "You're the best cocksucker I've ever met!"

The words shamed me deeply, but knowing that he'd meant it to be a
compliment, I tried to smile and whispered a very insincere
thanks. At least it was over, I thought. Maybe now I could get out
of that damned dress and go home.

My hopes were short-lived however, for no sooner had I thanked
Mike for calling me a "cocksucker" then I heard Dick's voice
echoing his sentiments.

"That's true," he was saying. "She sure can tame trouser snakes,
no doubt about it. I'll bet she could suck the chrome off a
trailer hitch."

The guys all laughed at the old joke, probably releasing tension,
and then Dick said the words that dashed my last hopes to the
ground...

"Speaking of which," he continued, "Bambi, get your pretty little
ass over here and take care of business."

I glared at him in disbelief as he reached down and unzipped his
pants. This was too much! Giving Mike a blowjob was bad enough,
but at least he didn't know any better, since he thought I was a
real girl. Dick, on the other hand, not only knew who I was and
what had been done to me, he was responsible for doing it! And now
he expected me to suck him off, just as I'd done for Mike! It was
beyond belief!

Looking around, I saw that the other guys were startled as well.
They seemed to find it hard to believe that Dick was serious, and
they turned to me to see how I would react. My first thought was
to tell Dick to go fuck himself and storm out of there. After all,
enough was enough! But then I remembered Mike and what Dick had
told him about me. It would seem strange, to say the least, for me
to refuse Dick a blowjob after giving one to Mike, since I was
supposed to be totally infatuated with Dick. According to what
Mike believed, giving Dick a blowjob should make me very happy.
How could I deny Dick's request without raising Mike's suspicions?
I hesitated as long as I dared, trying to think of some way out of
this rapidly deteriorating situation, but in the end I had no
alternative, so after a few moments I lowered my head and crawled
across the carpet on my knees to where Dick was sitting. I only
looked up at him once, and the evil satisfaction in his eyes was
too much to bear, so I dropped my gaze and focused my attention on
the stiffening organ that he pulled from his trousers.

I repeated my performance, and Dick seemed to enjoy my attentions
every bit as much as Mike had, maybe more. I noted with a strange
detachment that Dick's flesh tasted somewhat different than
Mike's, and his erection was shaped differently, with a larger
head and a thicker base. The thought occurred to me that I was
reluctantly becoming a connoisseur of cocks, and the idea was
almost painful.

Dick's erection grew and grew, until it reached awesome
proportions. I could only fit about half of it in my mouth, and it
was still growing! I'd never suspected that Dick was so well
endowed, and of course I'd never expected to get such a first-hand
education. Suddenly it exploded in a release of tart, gooey jism
that slid down my throat like warm molasses, and once again I
cleaned up the male I had satisfied, hoping that at last my ordeal
was over.

But still the nightmare went on, for no sooner had I placed Dick's
penis back in his trousers then I heard another zipper being
pulled down. I turned in alarm to find Frank smiling down at me,
his eyes gleaming wickedly above his sinister grin.

"I'm next, Backbit he insisted, and moments later I was kneeling
before him, my head in his lap, my lips wrapped around his
manhood, licking and sucking for all I was worth.

My worst fears came true after that, for as I had begun to
suspect, my torment would not now end until I had satisfied all
five males in the room. After Frank, Art was next, and then
finally Bob. When at last the fifth erection had unloaded its
juices down my throat, I was allowed to rest, and I collapsed on
the floor beside the couch in exhaustion. My jaw was aching, my
lips felt chapped and the back of my throat was sore from being
poked so often, but all my physical discomforts paled beside the
tremendous weight of shame and embarrassment I felt.

I couldn't imagine that anyone had ever felt more humiliated than
I did just then, dressed like a sexy girl, a virtual prisoner,
lying at the feet of several guys whose cocks I'd just sucked. It
was almost more than I could bear, and I may have come close to
having a nervous breakdown, but all I did was lie there in
silence, sulking over the cruelty of my fate and wishing I'd never
been born. I think I dozed off for a while, for the next thing I
knew it was dark outside and the guys were at the door saying
good-bye to Mike. I didn't try to rise, but just laid there with
my eyes closed, wondering if at last I would be allowed to change
clothes and leave. I could hear Dick and the others whispering
about something, but couldn't pick out any of the words.

I looked up when I sensed the guys standing over me, and as they
reached down to help me to my high-heeled feet I assumed that they
were going to take me to the bathroom and undo everything that
Dick had done to me. Eyes partly closed, swaying unsteadily on my
heels, I let them lead me down the hall without resistance, but as
we turned right instead of left I realized they were taking me
into the master bedroom, and I started to struggle.

"What are you doing?" I asked nervously.

They made no response, but continued to guide me forward, and when
I tried to stop them they practically dragged me into the room.
Without a word, they carried me to the bed and threw me face-down
on the mattress. It was all so strange, and everything was
happening so quickly, I had no time to think, no opportunity to
resist.

Before I could move, Frank had climbed onto the bed in front of me
and taken both my wrists in a firm grasp, holding my arms
stretched out before me. At the same time, Bob took hold of my
right ankle and pulled it toward one corner of the mattress as Art
grabbed my left ankle and drew it the opposite way, pulling my
legs-as wide apart as they would go. A frightening suspicion was
beginning to form in my clouded thoughts when I felt Dick's hands
reach up under my skirt, his fingers sliding over my girlish rear
to grasp the top of my pantyhose. I heard the click of his
switchblade and felt the material tear as Dick cut the nylon in
two. I was too stunned to move, unable to accept what appeared to
be happening.

Then I felt him cutting away the bottom of the women's
undergarment that lay at the base of my disguise, and suddenly I
was more vulnerable than I had ever been before in my life. With a
shock I realized that my bare ass was now hanging out, totally
unprotected, and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it.
I still hadn't come to terms with what was going on, but my
instincts were warning me of serious trouble heading my way, so I
started to struggle with my captors in a futile attempt to break
free, but they just laughed at me.

"Okay," Dick said from behind me, "hold her still."

HER!?

For a moment I was so startled to hear myself referred to in the
feminine gender that I thought of nothing else, but then I became
aware that Dick was doing something behind me, so I glanced back
to see him open a small tube and smear a clear gelatin onto his
middle finger. Before I could react, he reached forward and with a
single swift motion plunged his greasy finger directly into my
anus! I almost died of shock and embarrassment! It was too
horrible to be real, yet it was happening! I could feel his finger
inside me as he spread the goop around, covering my sphincter and
beyond.

Even then, I still hadn't fully accepted what was about to happen.
I kept thinking that they must be up to something else. It
couldn't be THAT! No, they'd never do THAT! THAT was unthinkable!

Yet THAT is exactly what they did, for as I looked back at him,
Dick smiled at me and began to unzip his trousers once more. His
organ was fully erect again when he removed it from his pants.

I began to shake my head, glaring at him in astonished disbelief
as he stepped forward and climbed onto the mattress behind me. He
couldn't do THAT! He COULDN'T!

It wasn't until I felt the head of his erection slipping smoothly
between my ass cheeks and pressing firmly against my sphincter
that the truth became undeniable. Even before his organ forced its
way inside me, I knew there was nothing I could do to stop him. I
was helpless, and he was going to rape me!

"NO!!" I screamed. "You can't do this!! Stop!! NO!!"

Yet even as I voiced my useless protests, Dick was penetrating my
virgin bottom, sliding irresistibly inside me, using my anal
orifice in a way it had never been used before and had never
really been meant to be used. The pain am was intense, a burning
agony that went deeper and deeper inside. And then he was all the
way in, and his erection was touching me in places I never knew I
had. I could feel his hairy balls against my bare ass, his
muscular thighs pressed against my soft, smooth skin.

My mind rebelled, trying to deny what was happening, but as he
began to slide back out, then in, then out, then in, the reality
of my situation became indisputable. He was fucking me! I was
being fucked like a girl! I had a male organ plunging deep inside
me again and again in search of sexual satisfaction, and it was
not just a terrible nightmare! It was real! Gradually, as he
pumped his erection in and out of me with a steady, mechanical
rhythm, the pain I'd been feeling subsided somewhat, and another
much stronger sensation grew to dominate my awareness. It was a
strange kind of tingling, a pleasant feeling unlike anything I'd
ever felt before, and as it grew more intense I felt my thoughts
begin to swim in unexpected and unwanted enjoyment. How could it
feel like that? It was wrong! Everything I knew told me that, so
why did it feel good?

I heard myself moaning softly as he continued to pump his manhood
into me, and despite my revulsion I had to admit that the
sensations I was experiencing were truly and uniquely pleasurable.
I never would have guessed that being raped by a male would feel
like that, but I couldn't deny it. After a while, it felt good!

I was just on the verge of reaching orgasm, a strange kind of
orgasm unlike any I'd ever had before, when I felt Dick's erection
shudder and begin spewing its contents into my rectum. Part of me
was relieved that the ordeal was ending, but another part resented
the fact that he'd come before I'd had a chance to reach my
climax. As his shrinking member withdrew, I experienced a strange
feeling of emptiness and unfulfillment, and I sighed both with
relief and longing.

My lack of satisfaction was not long to be endured, however, for
no sooner had Dick retracted his organ than Art was switching
places with him, his erection every bit as eager to penetrate my
soft, warm hole as Dick's had been. This time the organ slid in
smoothly and immediately began to stimulate and arouse me in that
strange way. Within minutes I was pumping my own juices into the
mattress beneath me, deliriously caught up in the most unusual
orgasm I'd ever known. The rest of the night became a blur after
that.

I know that I was raped by all four of my former friends, and I
fell asleep still clad in my minidress and heels, still wearing my
wig and make-up. As I drifted off to a restless sleep, I remember
the strange sensation of being hugged and kissed and caressed by
several guys lying beside me in bed. The last thing I recall is
hearing Dick's voice whispering to the others...

"I say we keep her."



SUNDAY



When I awoke in the morning, I was alone. I was still in bed in
Dick's parents' apartment, and I was surprised to find that I was
naked under the sheets. For a moment I wondered if it had all been
just a nightmare, and I hoped with all my being that it was, but
looking under the covers I noticed that my body was still smooth
and hairless, my hands were still adorned with false fingernails
polished a bright pink, like my toenails, and I still smelled of
sweetly scented bubble bath. Much to my dismay, I realized that it
had all been too real, and everything I remembered had actually
happened.

Apparently, someone had removed the women's clothes I'd been
wearing, including the wig, and then put me to bed under the
covers. Judging by the sunlight streaming in through the window,
it was getting to be late morning, so by my best estimate I'd been
unconscious for more than twelve hours. Between emotional
exhaustion and physical trauma, the ordeal of the day before had
wiped me out, and as I sat up in bed I felt far from rested and
refreshed.

In fact, as memories of the previous day came flooding back to me,
I began to feel more and more depressed, hurt and humiliated. I
still couldn't believe what Dick and the others had done to me.
How could I ever look them in the eyes again? How would I live
down the shame of being raped by four horny guys while dressed
like a pretty girl? Soon I felt tears coursing down my cheeks, and
then a sob shook my chest, followed by another and another, and
before I knew it I was crying my eyes out and sobbing
hysterically. With each tear, each ragged breath, my feelings of
humiliation and regret grew more intense, until I thought I might
actually die of the shame I felt.

When my emotional outburst finally exhausted itself, I raised my
head from the tear-soaked pillows, still sniffling and coughing
between occasional sobs, and glanced up with a start to find Dick
standing over me, looking at me strangely, with a sad kind of
compassion in his eyes, as though he had just spanked a child and
was watching it cry. His gaze seemed to carry both sympathy for my
plight and an adamant refusal to apologize for causing it.

"When your feeling up to it," he said softly, "you can take a
nice, warm bath, and I'll make you some breakfast."

I looked away, unable to face him after what he'd done to me. I
wanted to scream at him, to hit him, to hurt him as badly as he'd
hurt me, or worse, but I couldn't find the strength within me. I
had always been rather passive and easy-going by nature, and my
experience of the previous day only enhanced these submissive
tendencies, making me feel quite timid. Just by being in the same
room with me, Dick was able to cow me into submission, and I had
no doubt that I would now do whatever he told me to do,
reluctantly but without argument, for I no longer had the will to
resist him. My pride, my confidence, my self-esteem had all been
stripped away, and all I had left was fear and obedience.

"I'll start the bath water for you," Dick said, heading for the
bathroom. "Come in when you're ready."

I just sat there for a little while, wondering what I should do
next. I wanted to get far away from that place and particularly
that guy in the next room, but I had no idea where my clothes
were, and I still had to do something about the false fingernails
on my hands and the traces of make-up that I knew would still be
on my face. It occurred to me then that maybe Dick felt bad for
what he'd done and was going to help me regain my old appearance
as best he could. I climbed slowly out of bed and trailed after
him into the bathroom, wondering if I was right and hoping that my
torment would soon be over.

The moment I entered the bathroom, however, I knew that my guess
was wrong and I was hoping in vain, for the air was rich with the
fresh scent of wild flowers once more, and the tub was quickly
filling with pink bubbles again. I looked at Dick, surprise and
disappointment obvious in my eyes, but he just smiled that strange
smile and gestured toward the tub.

"Your bath awaits, M'Lady," he said in a serious tone.

"Call me when you're finished and I'll come dry you."

I swallowed nervously. If it wasn't over, what was Dick going to
do to me next? It was a frightening thought.

"While you're bathing," he continued, moving toward the door,
"I'll pick out what I want you to wear today, something nice and
sexy that shows off your pretty legs."

I was too stunned to reply. It was obvious now that he planned to
dress me up like a girl again. I didn't know why, but I had an
awful feeling that it would lead to a repeat performance of the
previous night's rape scene, and though that possibility terrified
me, I didn't see what I could do to prevent it.

When the tub was full, I shut off the water and climbed into the
pink froth as instructed. The last thing I wanted to do was to
start preparing myself for another day in skirts, but what else
could I do? I knew I'd never be able to stand up to Dick, not
after what he'd done to me the day before in bed, so disobedience
was out of the question. Like it or not, I had to follow his
orders. After I'd been soaking for about ten minutes, Dick
returned and helped me out of the tub, then dried me off with a
big, pink, fluffy towel. He then proceeded to cover me with a
foul-smelling gel from my face to my ankles, and a glance at the
label on the container told me it was a depilatory cream, designed
to remove my body hair well below the surface. It would now be
weeks before I began to grow back the hair Dick had shaved off me
the day before. A quick shower removed the cream, after it had
done its work, and then more lotions were rubbed into my skin,
making me feel baby smooth and soft all over.

I had to sit patiently in front of the mirror once more while Dick
removed the previous day's cosmetics with some cold cream, then
restored my pretty girl's face with a new application of make-up.
The blonde wig, which had been brushed out and replaced on its
stand, was once again attached to my head, and the gorgeous girl
I'd seen in the mirror the previous day was back once more.

Once Dick had finished my face, we returned to the bedroom, where
I saw several items of clothing laid out on the bed, and judging
by the color and the texture of the fabrics, they were girls'
clothes. It wasn't until I got a really close look, however, that
I recognized the design and purpose of the outfit. It was old and
a little dated, fashion-wise, but cheerleader uniforms hadn't
changed that much in twenty years, so I knew without a doubt what
it was. It was an easy guess that Dick had gotten his mother's old
cheerleading uniform out of storage, and now he expected me to
wear it.

I wanted to resist, to refuse to cooperate any further, but I had
already lost so much and sunk so low, there seemed little point in
standing up to Dick now, even if I'd had the strength to do it,
which I didn't. All I could do was to play along with him until he
got tired of humiliating me and let me go home. Hopefully that
would be soon.

So I offered no resistance as Dick began to dress me in his
mother's clothes again, although I did follow each instruction
with the greatest reluctance. After putting another one-piece
figure shaper on me and restoring the two pink water balloons to
their resting place on my chest, Dick slipped a pair of white
rhumba panties up my legs and around my waist, and the frilly
little ruffles that covered its surface made my crotch seem even
smoother and my bottom seem even bigger than before.

The pantyhose he slid onto my smooth legs were a bright maroon in
color and very sheer, and they were followed by a matching blouse
and skirt of white cotton with maroon stripes and lettering. The
name of our high school was spelled out in bold block print right
across the bulging mounds of my false breasts, making my girlish
shape even more noticeable. The skirt was very short and pleated,
so it took very little movement on my part to make the hem rise up
or spin outward to reveal a glimpse of frilly panties underneath.

The last item of women's apparel forced on me was a pair of
gleaming white leather boots with high, spike heels. They encased
my nylon-clad feet tightly, being perhaps a size too small, but
once they were securely zipped up they looked perfect, and my legs
appeared as beautiful and sexy in the feminine footwear as any
girl's could. Once again, I had to practice walking in high heels,
but I picked it up much more quickly this time and was soon
strutting my girlish stuff around the room as if I'd been doing it
all my life, much to Dick's satisfaction.

A11 during my transformation into the pretty cheerleader who now
gazed back at me from the mirror, Dick had been studying me with
increasing intensity, until now that look of hunger was back in
his eyes. I could sense his carnal interest growing each time I
swiveled my hips or tossed back my long, blonde hair or let my
false breasts jiggle in their cups as I minced daintily before
him. I felt like a lamb under the watchful eye of the wolf, too
frightened to do anything more than hope he goes away.

"Okay," he said after a while, "I guess you're ready, so let's get
going. I don't want to be late."

"GOING!?" I gasped, surprised at how timid and feminine my voice
sounded. "Going WHERE!?"

"It's Sunday," he shrugged. "Softball, remember?"

My eyes went wide with alarm. For the first time I realized that
he was wearing his football jersey and sweat pants, the same
things he always wore to our weekly softball game on the
neighborhood field. On the other hand, I was dressed quite
differently than usual, and the thought of having the guys from
the team see me prancing around in my skirt and high heels was too
much to bear."I can't go to the field dressed like this!"

"Of course you can," he assured me, reaching out to take me by the
hand, "and you will."

"No, please, Dick," I begged him. "Don't make me do this, please!"

My appeals all fell on deaf ears, and he was smiling sadistically
as he practically dragged me to the front door. "Don't worry," he
said. "All you have to do is act l like a pretty girl and do
exactly as I say. Nobody will suspect a thing."

before I could say another word he was pulling me after him down
the stairs, and I was trying my best not to trip in my high heels.
And then, suddenly, we were outside!

Just stepping out into the sunlight and being in the open, dressed
as I was, was enough to send me into a state of near panic. I made
no further protests to Dick, for I was too frightened to speak. I
just followed along behind him as he led me down the street, my
thoughts whirling in a maelstrom of fear and embarrassment. I was
outside, where anyone might see me, and the risk of exposure was
at its highest.

Gradually, as we walked, I allowed myself to adopt all the
feminine mannerisms I could think of, supplementing my sexy walk
with graceful hand gestures and an occasional toss of my long,
blonde tresses. As galling as it was to play the part of a female
in public, I knew it would be far better to be taken for a girl
than to be recognized and ridiculed as a boy in skirts, for I was
equally sure that if things went wrong, Dick and the others would
simply claim that I liked dressing up in women's clothes and deny
any responsibility for my appearance. How would I prove they were
lying? And even if I could, would it matter? I'd still be
disgraced and humiliated no matter how I got like this. Getting
the guys in trouble for what they'd done would be cold comfort to
me at that point. I just wanted to escape the entire ordeal as
soon as possible and then forget I ever knew those bastards I used
to call friends. Meanwhile, however, I'd have to pretend to be
just what I appeared to be... a pretty girl in a cheerleader
outfit on her way to watch her boyfriend play softball.

When Dick noticed my efforts to appear more feminine, he smiled at
me and nodded. "Good girl. The more girlish you look, the less
suspicious people will be. I'm glad to see you've got some brains
in that pretty head of yours."

When we got to the field, Dick paused to build up my confidence,
reminding me how feminine and beautiful I looked and promising
that no one would find out about me, so long as I did exactly what
he told me to do. I nodded my agreement reluctantly, and we
started off toward a group of guys drinking beers on the far end
of the field. As we got closer, Dick told me to put my arm around
him, so I did, and we walked up to the others looking to all the
world like a young man and his very sexy girlfriend. Art, Bob and
Frank were already there, staring at me as I approached them, and
I couldn't meet their gazes. What they'd done to me the day before
was still very fresh in my memory, and I didn't think I would ever
forgive them. The other guys from our team didn't have the
slightest idea who I really was, and they all stared at me,
sweeping their hungry eyes up and down my feminine figure as if I
was an item on the dessert tray to be craved and drooled over.

"Guys," Dick said by way of introduction, "I'd like you meet a
friend of mine. say `Hi,' Bamb."

I nodded politely to each of them as they introduced themselves,
afraid to speak in case someone might recognize my voice. All the
time, half of them were staring at my breasts while the other half
studied my nylon-clad thighs. The thought of what these guys would
do to me if they could sent a shiver down my spine, and I resolved
not to stray far from Dick's side, if only for the protection he
offered me from the rest of the males.

No one else on either team had brought their girlfriend along, so
I appeared to be the only girl there that day, and somehow that
made my situation seem even worse.

"Hey, where's that wimpy little pinch runner today?" someone from
the other team asked, and my ears burned, for I knew he meant me.

"He's not playing anymore," Dick explained. "Don't worry. We don't
need him."

I looked at the ground and hoped no one had noticed the blush that
warmed my cheeks.

"Well, let's play ball," somebody said, and the game got under
way.

It felt strange to be standing there in the dugout watching,
instead of out there on the field playing, but what was even
stranger was the way the guys kept glancing in my direction at
every opportunity. My girlish good looks and sexy figure were
drawing their eyes like magnets, and I couldn't help feeling
flattered by all the attention, though I was also frightened and
embarrassed by it as well.

During the seventh inning stretch, Dick and the captain of the
other team got together to set up a wager on the outcome of the
game. I couldn't hear what they were betting, since they'd walked
out of earshot by then, but I assumed it would be money or beer,
as usual. Whatever it was, it certainly seemed to inspire them
all. I couldn't recall ever seeing such a fierce final inning. In
the end it all came down to a last minute homer with two outs and
a count of two and two, and our team lost by a single run.

Despite the loss, my former teammates seemed in good spirits as
they crowded around me in the dugout. A few of those who didn't
know who I was were trying to impress me with recaps of their
greatest moments from the game. I just nodded and pretended to
enjoy the attention.

I was rather surprised when the circle of guys around me opened up
to let the other team approach. There was something about them, a
look in their eyes that worried me, and I was suddenly aware of my
position... a pretty girl surrounded by almost twenty horny males.
The skin at the nape of my neck began to tingle with fear.

"Okay," the opposing captain said to Dick. "You lost, so pay up."

Rather than answer him, Dick turned to me with a very serious
expression on his face. Putting his arm around my waist, he led me
off to the side a little, then whispered in my ear.

"A bet's a bet," he said grimly. "We lost, so we have to make good
on our end."

I didn't understand why he was telling me this.

"What did you wager?" I asked.

He looked me straight in the eyes. "You."

I was too startled to respond.

"Your gonna have to do this, Bambi. There's no other way."

"Do what?" I asked in a trembling voice.

"The bet was that if we won, they'd buy all the beer for the rest
of the season, but if they won, you'd give each of them a
blowjob."

I felt all the blood drain from my face as my mouth opened in a
loud gasp. "WHAT!?"

"I really thought we'd win," Dick explained. "I didn't think you'd
actually have to do it."

"I can't!" I pleaded. "I can't do THAT!"

"Oh, come on," he argued, "it's not like you've never sucked cock
before."

I lowered my head in shame, unable to reply.

"You really have no choice," he continued. "You can do it
willingly, or I can tell them to take you by force. Either way,
you're gonna drink a lot of come today."

Once again I felt the need to scream, to run, to escape from this
nightmare, but there was nothing I could do. I was sure that Dick
was serious when he threatened to have the guys rape me if I
resisted, and that would certainly be worse than the alternative.
Like it or not, I had to cooperate.

As he led me back over to the circle of guys, I thought about the
sick and twisted joke Dick was about to play on his opponents,
letting them think they were being sexually serviced by a pretty
girl, when all the time they were getting sucked off by a boy in
drag. The other guys didn't know it, and I couldn't help it, but
the fact remained that Dick was maneuvering each of us into
performing a homosexual act. I was sure that the thought of that
pleased him immensely.

When I got to the center of the ring of standing figures, I found
the captain of the opposing team sitting on the bench with his
back to the wall, staring up at me expectantly. I had to suppress
a nervous swallow as noticed that his zipper was open and his
fully erect manhood was standing rigidly at attention.

"Okay, Bambi," Dick said, patting my rear end gently.

"Get to work."

Without looking at the guy sitting before me or any of the other
males around me, I knelt down on the dugout floor between the
young man's legs and lowered my face down into his crotch, taking
his waiting organ straight into my mouth. I sucked him off with
consummate skill, for I was rapidly becoming quite good at it, and
mere moments after I'd choked down several gulps of his semen,
another guy was sitting down beside him and whipping out his
erection for servicing.

As I moved from one male organ to another, giving blowjob after
blowjob, the ring of softball players continued to surround me,
watching intently, their bodies shielding my activities from
prying eyes. After a while my jaw began to ache again, yet the
young men kept on coming in a seemingly endless line. In time, my
stomach began to churn from all the semen I'd swallowed, and I
thought might get sick, but then suddenly it was over. I let yet
another limp organ slide out from between my soft lips and turned
to take on the next one, only to discover that I was done.

Each and every one of those guys had come in my mouth, and at last
it was over. Ten blowjobs in all. With a wince I realized that
very few real girls could claim to have sucked off an entire
softball team. It was a dubious distinction to be sure, and I
wished quite fervently that it wasn't so, but there was no denying
the taste in my mouth or the shame in my heart. In less than
twenty-four hours I had sucked off fifteen guys, and somehow I
knew that my life was never going to be the same again.

Art, Frank and Bob said good-bye to Dick and me at the field.
There was a brief, whispered conversation between Dick and Art,
and then Dick led me toward the playground area while the other
guys headed back to the apartment complex. I followed along
feeling like an object, a possession with no free will of my own.
For all intents and purposes, Dick owned me now and could do
whatever he wanted with me. Until he decided to let me go, I was
his slave, and the longer I allowed things to go on like this, the
weaker my resistance would become.

I might have fought against my feminization from the start, or
even after Dick had completely transvestized me, or even after the
other guys had seen me dressed that way, or after Mike had kissed
me and I'd performed my first blowjob, or after I'd been raped, or
even now, after I'd sucked off a whole softball team and before
Dick could begin his next torment, I could still try to refuse his
mad demands, but with each concession I made, with each
opportunity for resistance I let slip past me, the consequences of
disobedience grew, until now the price of freedom was just too
high. I knew that no matter what Dick wanted to do to me, I'd let
him, for my fear of exposure was now so great, I'd do almost
anything to keep people from learning who I really was and what
Dick had made me do.

Walking past the playground, I was startled by a little girl who
ran up to me from behind calling "Mommy, wait!" When I turned to
face her, she realized her mistake and looked embarrassed, and
both of us were blushing brightly when she turned to run off and
look elsewhere for her mother. Dick found the girl's error quite
amusing, and when he saw my reddened cheeks, he actually laughed
out loud.

"I bet you'll make a wonderful mother someday," he chuckled, and I
tried to ignore this and other comments he made as we continued
walking.

On the far side of the playground, we turned toward the bus stop,
and Dick gestured for me to sit beside him on the bench. My heart
began to beat a little faster as I wondered what he was up to now.

"From now on," he said in his most solemn tone, "I want you
touching me at all times. Hold my hand, put your arm around my
waist, rub your fingers on the back of my neck, something like
that. Even if you're just leaning against me, I want some part of
you in contact with me at all times. Got it?"

"I guess so," I said softly. "Why?"

"Don't ask questions!" he growled. "Just do it!"

"Okay," I sighed, slipping my arm around behind him to hug his
waist. "Like this?"

"That's fine," he nodded. "Good girl."

Hearing myself referred to as a girl again embarrassed me just as
it had before, but what was worse was the way he'd said it,
without any trace of sarcasm or humor, as if he were talking to a
real girl. I wondered, not for the last time, just what in the
world was going on inside Dick's twisted brain. Could he be more
than just a little crazy?

When the bus arrived, Dick rose and walked toward it with me
trailing close behind him, reluctantly trying to follow his
instructions and maintain constant physical contact with him. As
we boarded up the steps I took his hand, and he smiled at me with
approval. Then he reached back for his wallet to give the driver
our fares, so I slipped my hand around his arm and kept it there
until we had taken seats near the back of the bus.

The insidiously clever nature of his latest demand became apparent
to me as we walked down the aisle to our seats past the other
passengers, for I realized that in their eyes my constant efforts
to hold on to Dick's hand or arm or waist would simply be taken as
the rather possessive behavior of a young lady toward her
boyfriend. No one would ever have guessed that I was only touching
him because I'd been ordered to, so everyone who saw us would
undoubtedly come to the same conclusion... I was Dick's
girlfriend, and I was quite attached to him, literally. His
seeming indifference to my attentions only made it worse, as
though he was simply tolerating my constant efforts to touch and
hold him, like a patient boyfriend indulging his silly, overly
romantic girl.

Once we had taken our seats, I slipped my arm around his waist
again, then asked him several times where we were going, but all
he would say was, "You'll see," or "Keep your panties on," or
something like that, so I passed the time gazing out the window,
hoping that no one I knew would see me sitting there dressed like
a cheerleader with my arm around another guy.

Under the circumstances, I was naturally quite anxious concerning
our destination. Dick could take me anywhere he wanted to, and I'd
have to go along, like it or not, and who knew what would happen
when we got there? My imagination conjured up all sorts of bizarre
possibilities, each more frightening than the last, but nothing I
dreamed up came close to the reality I was about to experience.

The bus was just turning into the entrance to the local shopping
mall when Dick pulled me to my feet, and I glared at him in
surprise and fear. There were more than a thousand people
clustered about the mall on an average Sunday, and any number of
them might be people I knew. It was the most populous, most
crowded environment I could imagine, and if somehow someone were
to recognize me... The very thought put goose bumps on my arms. I
couldn't go strolling through the mall on Sunday in a cheerleading
outfit! This was insane! Yet there was nothing I could do but
follow him back down the aisle and out onto the sidewalk with my
girlish hands clutching at his arm the whole time.

I had hoped briefly that we might just merge into the crowd and
lose ourselves in anonymity, but almost everyone we passed seemed
to notice me in my skimpy, sexy cheerleader uniform, and most of
the men who saw me obviously found it a pleasant sight. Among the
women, some frowned at me with disapproval, glaring at my short
skirt and my flirtatious walk in disgust, but others seemed amused
by the way I clung to my boyfriend's arm or hugged him around the
waist so possessively, as though he might vanish if I were to let
him go even for a moment. Girls my own age seemed to ignore me,
focusing instead on the boy beside me, although a few appeared
interested in my hairstyle or my shade of nailpolish, but it was
in boys my age that I noticed the biggest change, for almost every
single one of them went out of his way to stare at me with an
undisguised desire burning in his eyes. I could almost hear the
old line, "I wouldn't throw her out of bed!" as it flickered
through the mind of one teenage boy after Other.

Against my will and despite my revulsion, I had been turned into a
sex object for my own sex, irresistibly admired and desired by
heterosexual men for my seemingly female beauty. With absolutely
no encouragement of any sort from me, I was attracting male
attention like a flower might lure a hive of bees, and every drone
who saw me appeared to want nothing more than to insert his
stinger between my stems and pollinate me.

The memory of Dick and the other guys doing just that was still
quite fresh in my mind, and the thought that I had indeed already
been used by males for carnal satisfaction highlighted the fact
that I could be used that way again, with or without my consent. I
had taken on the appearance of a girl, a female receptacle for
male passion, and every guy I met now saw me as a potential and
very desirable sex partner, an unavoidable misperception on their
part that frightened and revolted me yet could not be remedied so
long as I looked the way I did.

At the entrance to Atta Girl, a popular clothing store for young
women, Dick took my hand and led me inside with a warning to
follow his instructions and act my part. I still wasn't sure what
was going on, but I was getting more frightened by the moment. I
tried to look calm and composed as Dick led me over to the counter
where several salesgirls were gathered, but my heart was pounding
so hard I was afraid it might be noticeable, perhaps by the
rhythmic jiggling of the twin mounds on my chest or the hot flush
I felt building up in my cheeks.

"Hello, girls," Dick said as we approached the counter. He put his
arm around my shoulders and gave me a little squeeze. "This is
Bambi."

I listened in well disguised astonishment as he proceeded to tell
them a long and detailed story about how I had recently moved to
his neighborhood and how only hours earlier I'd been victimized by
a burglar in my apartment who'd stolen everything, including every
stitch of clothing I'd had, except what I was wearing.

His audience was understandably sympathetic, and accepted their
comments of "How awful" and "You poor girl" with a grateful nod or
two. When Dick went on to explain that his mother had an account
at this store and had generously offered to buy me a whole new
wardrobe, or rather to lend Dick the money until he could pay her
back, the girls totally reversed themselves, telling me what a
lucky girl I was to have such a wonderful boyfriend. The way I
clung to his arm, they probably assumed I was grateful to him and
felt appreciative, while in fact I was feeling rather bewildered.
Was he really going to buy me a whole wardrobe of girls' clothes?
What in the world for?

Then one of the girls introduced herself as Sally, the assistant
manager, and offered to help me with my purchases. I gratefully
accepted, since I had no idea what I should be buying, in what
size, or very much of anything at all about girls' clothing. She
advised me on everything, from hats to shoes and from the skin
out, proving herself most invaluable as a teacher as well as a
salesperson, although I doubt she suspected that I'd never bought
a single article of female clothing before in my life and was just
now learning it all for the first time from her. I let her do all
the talking, simply nodding in agreement every now and then,
occasionally looking at Dick for approval of something she'd
suggested. He had very specific ideas about how he wanted me
dressed and pretty much dictated to us both what my wardrobe would
include, adamantly insisting on dresses and skirts, instead of
slacks or jeans, and pumps and sandals rather than sneakers or
loafers. I just stood beside him, my arm curled about his waist,
pretending I wanted and appreciated his help, like some dumb
blonde eager to please her lover.

When Sally suggested that I start trying on some of the clothes, I
turned to Dick with a look of barely visible panic. He remarked
that it wasn't necessary to try on everything, especially the
undergarments, but he did want me to try on a few dresses and
skirts, in case some alterations were needed. I looked deeply into
his eyes, silently asking if I really had to do this, and he
smiled, then gave me a hug.

"Go ahead," he whispered as his mouth passed my ear.

"You can stop touching me until the fitting is over."

Feeling a little dazed and frightened, I agreed to try on the
garments he'd indicated and followed Sally as she carried them
into the changing room. I was taken by surprise and had to
suppress a gasp of alarm as the salesgirl began helping my out of
my blouse and skirt, as if it was the most natural thing in the
world, and indeed as far as she was concerned we were both girls,
so what was the big deal?

It was quite a big deal to me, however, to find myself wearing
panties, pantyhose and a ladies' support garment while standing
before a pretty girl not much older than I was. The smooth crotch
of my panties gave no evidence of the manhood I had tucked away
between my legs, and the mounds on my chest seemed quite real as
they bulged outward in their elastic cups. Even the nipples seemed
real, so much so that when Sally glanced at them and noticed their
seemingly erect state, she gave me a very strange look, as if to
ask, "Why are you getting aroused now? Are you a lesbian or
something?" I was far too embarrassed to respond, so I just stood
there blushing while she attended to my fitting.

Not knowing how to put on or take off most of the clothes I was to
try on, I let Sally do everything, standing there like a mannequin
as she dutifully dressed me, first in one outfit and then another.
Between each change of clothes I had to go out and model the
outfit for Dick. He'd stand there grinning at me, telling me to
turn this way or move my arms that way, having me pose like some
cover girl for his amusement.

After trying on several sexy minidresses, an evening gown, some
leather miniskirts and a few very girlish blouses, we went to the
shoe section where Sally helped me remove my high-heeled boots and
slip my stockinged feet into several pairs of pumps, sandals and
bedroom slippers. All had heels as high or higher than the ones
I'd been wearing, and I know I must have seemed a little unsure of
myself as I walked around in each pair, testing out the fit, but
Sally didn't seem to suspect anything. Perhaps she thought I'd
been a tomboy most of my life and had only recently started
wearing high heels. Whatever she thought, she kept it to herself,
which suited me fine.

When all our purchases had been rung up and placed into bags or
boxes, we thanked Sally for her help and prepared to go. Dick
insisted on carrying everything, so I simply took his arm as
instructed and let him lead the way, looking like some spoiled
young lady with a boyfriend willing to pamper her. On the way out
we made a quick stop at the drugstore to purchase some cosmetics
and perfume, and then Dick insisted that I get my ears pierced at
a jewelry store next door. I knew that lots of guys were getting
one ear pierced these days, but getting them both done was still
considered a sign of femininity, so I was obviously reluctant to
submit to such a permanent alteration, but as usual I had no
choice.

As we left the mall, a pair of golden hoops dangling from my newly
pierced ears, I glanced at the huge pile of bags and boxes in
Dick's arms, noting the pink label on each one declaring that
these goods were from Atta Girl, and with a nervous chill I
thought about the fact that these clothes, these GIRLS' clothes,
were now mine. They'd been purchased for me, and I had no doubt
that Dick was fully expecting me to wear them. why else had he
bought them for me?

During the bus ride home, I tried again to figure out what Dick
was up to. He obviously wasn't planning to just let me go, but I
couldn't imagine what he was hoping to accomplish, other than my
continued degradation. If he just wanted me to dress up like a
girl for him and the other guys sometimes, it wouldn't have been
necessary to buy my own clothes; I could just borrow some of
Dick's mother's things, as I'd already done. And why so many
clothes? I now had such a complete girl's wardrobe that I could go
for weeks without ever wearing the same thing twice. If Dick just
wanted me to dress up now and then, all those clothes would last
me for years. It didn't make sense, but it soon would.

When we arrived back in our neighborhood, Dick didn't take me to
his place, as I'd hoped he would. Since the weekend was almost
over, and my parents would be home from vacation soon, I was
beginning to think that Dick might finally let me go. If we'd gone
back to his apartment, he might have helped me out of those girls'
clothes and let me resume my normal appearance, as much as
possible anyway, but we were walking in the opposite direction,
and all my hopes for an end to this nightmare were soundly dashed.
Wherever we were headed, I had a feeling I wasn't going to like
it.

We entered the section of the apartment complex where all the
furnished apartments were located and went straight to an upstairs
unit near the carports. At the top of the stairs, Dick kicked the
door and shouted for someone to open up, and moments later there
was Bob standing in the entrance, grinning at us from ear to ear.

"Come on in," he said.

Dick went down the hall without another word, and I heard him
deposit the packages he was carrying in the bedroom as I stepped
daintily into the living room and looked around in surprise. The
layout of the apartment was the same as Dick's parents' place, but
there the resemblance ended, for this was obviously not the
apartment of an average suburban couple and their son. The
furniture, carpeting and draperies were nice, apparently supplied
by the landlord, but everything else spoke of another world.

There were posters of rock stars, sports heroes and naked women on
the walls, as well as some spray-painted graffiti, and the room
was dominated by a patchwork stereo system and a huge pile of
records, tapes and compact discs arranged on the floor in no
particular order. There were sports magazines and comic books
scattered everywhere, as well as several cans of beer and a few
empty pizza cartons. The charred remains of dozens of marijuana
cigarettes littered the coffee table beside a well used crack
pipe, and the ashtrays were full of cigar butts. In the midst of
all this was a brand new, wide-screen television set currently
showing the pre-game program for that evening's National League
game.

It was more like a college dorm room than an apartment, a place
where no one actually took up permanent residence, but where many
people met to party. I'd never been told about this place before,
but that wasn't really surprising. I knew that the guys had kept
many secrets from me.

Apparently this was one of them.

Art and Frank were with Dick when he returned from the bedroom,
and they joined Bob and me in the living room.

"First thing's first," Dick said. "Bambi, get everyone a beer from
the fridge."

I went to the kitchen to fetch four bottles of beer and when I
came back the guys were seated around the coffee table, smoking
dope.   They took the beers from me gratefully, then told me to
sit on the chair beside the stereo and continued to indulge in
both pot and crack for some time. Once they were all properly
wasted, it was my turn, like it or not, and I was forced to inhale
a good deal of smoke before they let me stop. The drugs went to
work on my mood, despite my reservations, and the grim depression
I'd felt for the last twenty-four hours or more was finally lifted
a little. I even smiled when Art started to tease Frank about his
crew cut, calling him "Baldy."

Despite my drugged state, however, it was impossible for me to
forget how I was dressed, how I'd been treated and the mystery
that still remained concerning my future at the hands of these
miscreants. I no longer felt as anxious and upset as I had before,
but I was also far from being relaxed and happy, and there was no
drug ever invented that could have removed my ever-present sense
of shame.

Eventually the guys settled into another of their strange
discussions, and this time I was to be included, for the moment of
truth had arrived, and they were prepared to tell me their plans
at last.

"Well, here's how it is, Bambi," Dick said candidly. "This used to
be our pad for all-nighters and such, our home away from home, but
from now on, this is your place, your home."

"I don't understand," I confessed timidly.

"Art set it up so that his dad thinks somebody's living here,"
Dick explained, "and every month the four of us chip in to pay the
rent and stuff. Nobody actually lives here, though."

"Well, nobody did live here," Bob corrected him, "until now."

"Exactly," Dick agreed. "As of today, this is your apartment,
Bambi. You live here, eat here, sleep here, the works. We even put
the lease in your name... Bambi Desiree' Taylor."

I was flabbergasted! They couldn't be serious!

"Live here!?" I gasped. "As a girl!?"

"Of course as a girl," Art teased me. "What else, a house plant?"

"But... I can't!" I insisted. I knew the fact that I simply didn't
want to be a girl wouldn't carry much weight with them, so I went
straight to my ace in the hole. "What about my parents?"

"No problem," Frank replied. "This afternoon I forged a note in
your handwriting saying that you were running away from home to
grow pot in Hawaii. Your parents will find it taped to the door
when they get back tonight."

I was speechless! What could I say? What could I do?

"Face it, girl," Dick smiled. "We've got you."

"You belong to us now," Art went on. "From now on you 0 do
whatever we tell you to do. No arguments. No complaints.
Understand?"

"Wha..." My voice cracked from the strain. "What do I have to do?"

"Be our girl," Bob said.

"We'll keep paying the rent," Dick told me, "and we'll buy your
food and whatever you need, but you have to earn your keep. That
means keeping us happy."

"Happy?" I asked. "What do you mean?"

"It'll be your responsibility to keep yourself looking as pretty
as possible," he replied. "You should also do your best to act
cute and feminine at all times."

"You'll also do housework and cook for us sometimes," Frank added,
"or do our laundry, stuff like that."

"The most important thing, however," Dick concluded, "is that you
make yourself available to us for sex whenever we want it, and
however we want it."

I just sat there gaping at them, unable to believe that this could
really be happening! Yet they looked totally serious!

"This is kidnapping!" I protested.

"It certainly is," Art agreed, "or it would be, if we were forcing
you stay here. The fact is, though, that you can leave any time
you want."

I hesitated. I didn't really want to go home dressed in that
damned cheerleader outfit. My parents would never have understood
how such a thing could've happened to me, and the humiliation
would be unbearable.   Yet the alternative was far worse. I had
waited long enough, too long in fact, and it was time to make my
escape from this nightmare. I stood up slowly and started for the
door. "Of course," Dick said in an unmistakably evil tone, "if you
leave, everyone will find out what we did to you."

I paused in mid stride.

"Even more important," Dick said, lowering his voice in a
confidential manner, "everyone will find out what you did to us,
and Mike, and all the guys from Dave's team. How do think the
fellows will react when they find out they got sucked off by a boy
in a dress? Think they'll be pleased?"

"You'd tell them?" I asked.

"You know I would."

"No one would believe you," I said, bluffing.

"I have photographs," he reminded me and then waved his hand
toward the other guys, "and witnesses."

His words hit me hard. I couldn't let them reveal the truth about
what had happened. Even if I didn't get beaten to death by some
angry guy whose cock I'd sucked, I could never live down the
humiliation or show my face in public ever again. I was trapped,
and they knew it.

"We'll keep quiet about what you've been up to," Dick promised,
"but in return, you stay here, as our mistress."

There was no doubt in their minds that I would agree to their
demands, and despite my desperation to escape, they were right.

"Now, we've worked out a schedule," Art told me. "On Monday
nights, you'll be with Dick. Tuesday night you're mine, then
you'll see Frank on Wednesday nights and Bob on Thursdays. Friday
and Saturday night, we'll all be here, so those are `gang bang'
nights."

The use of the phrase "gang bang" suddenly brought home to me the
real nature of their expectations. They would be the "gang," and I
would be the "bang." I was to be their whore, their prostitute,
their sexual slavegirl! What they really wanted was a soft, warm
hole to ram their cocks into, and like it or not I was to be the
receptacle for their carnal passions.

"Sunday is your day of rest," Art concluded. "We figured you
should have a day to yourself once in a while, so we're giving you
Sundays off."

"Not this Sunday, though," Bob amended. "Tonight's a special
occasion, so we're gonna stay here and help you celebrate."

"And I think we should start this celebration with a good,
homecooked meal," Dick announced. "Bambi, get your pretty ass into
the kitchen and cook us up some grub."

And that was that. Without another word to me, the guys turned to
the television and began to watch the game, which was now in
progress. I stood there for a moment, totally ignored, wondering
what to do. I had an urge to plead with them, to beg them to let
me go, even if I had to crawl to them on my knees, but pity and
compassion had never been their strong points, and somehow I knew
that such a performance would only make things worse, making me
feel even more degraded, while accomplishing absolutely nothing. I
felt tears coming to my eyes, but I refused to give them the
satisfaction of seeing me cry again, so I turned away and minced
back to the kitchen, where I could be alone.

Once I let the tears begin to flow, it was hard to stop, and I
sort of lost control for a while. I tried to muffle the sounds of
my heavy sobbing with a kitchen washcloth, but I'm sure the guys
could hear me, even with the television turned up so loud. After a
few minutes, I started pulling myself together. I was a real mess.
My nose was running, my eyes were swollen and I was trembling all
over, but I did manage to stop crying.

More to take my mind off of things as much as anything else, I
rummaged through the kitchen cabinets to determine what sort of
meal I might prepare for my captors, as I'd been told to do. There
wasn't much of a selection, just some cans of tuna, bread, some
celery and eggs, a few condiments and a bag of pretzels, but with
a little effort I was able to put together a tuna salad to go with
their beer and pretzels, and it didn't turn out too badly. I
hadn't realized how hungry I was until I tasted my recipe, and
then I had to gulp down a few spoonfuls of the finished product
before I could tear myself away. With a little food in me and my
crying under control, I was beginning to feel a bit better.

Putting everything onto a pizza carton, I carried the makeshift
serving tray out to the living room and set it down on the coffee
table between the guys. They seemed momentarily surprised,
glancing at the food, then me, then back to the food. It was as if
they hadn't been expecting me to actually come up with anything
edible. Then all at once they pounced on the stuff, their faces
bright with approval and expectation, and they appeared to like
it, a lot. The lip-smacking sounds of contentment came so thick
and heavy that at first I thought they were teasing me again, but
eventually I realized that they were sincere in their compliments,
and after a while I couldn't help but feel gratified by their
appreciation of my efforts.

Before all the tuna salad had gone, Dick insisted that I have some
too, and much to my embarrassment, I had to sit on the floor
beside him while he spoon fed me like a child. When the last of
the food had disappeared, I was ordered to take the remnants to
the kitchen, where I had to wash the cutlery and dispose of the
trash. After I'd finished cleaning up the kitchen, I returned to
the living room, hoping I might get to see some of the game and
take my mind off my problems, but no such luck. As soon as Dick
saw me, he ordered me into the bedroom to put away my new clothes.

The bedroom was also furnished, and the guys had-left less of an
impression on this room, probably since they spent so little time
in here, so it appeared almost normal in decor. The apartment had
been intended for a couple, and the furnishings reflected that,
with a king-sized bed, two dressers and a woman's vanity table
beside a full length mirror. The walls were adorned with several
abstract paintings of naked women, and the windows were curtained
with thick velvet drapes. The bed itself was covered with an
attractive quilt that matched the color of the plush wall-to-wall
carpeting.

Unpacking my new wardrobe took much more time that I'd expected.
It seemed as if each garment came with a multitude of tags and
labels that had to be removed rather carefully, since most of the
fabrics were quite delicate and fragile. Then I had to sort
everything out and figure out where to put it all. In the end, I
think I had it all organized the same way most girls would, with
one drawer for panties, one for bras, one for other undergarments,
one for nightgowns and one for stockings and pantyhose. I lined my
shoes and sandals up in the larger closet underneath the rack
where my dresses, skirts and blouses were hung. Finally I placed
my jewelry, cosmetics and perfume bottles on the vanity and
stuffed all the packing material into the largest of the boxes,
which I put into the other closet, just to get it out of sight.

As I was finishing up, Dick came in and stood by watching me
without saying a word. When I had nothing more to do, he told me
to come stand before him, and like an obedient puppy I walked
daintily over to him. Standing still as instructed, I looked on as
he began to remove my clothing. He unzipped my high-heeled boots,
and I stepped out of them, glad to be free of their confinement.
Then he stripped off my blouse and skirt, followed by my panties
and pantyhose. The figure-shaping undergarment he left in place,
along with my wig.

After a quick trip to the vanity table to repair my make-up Dick
dressed me in a sexy, pink babydoll nightie and placed a pair of
high-heeled bedroom slippers on my feet. A lavish spray of perfume
in strategic areas, and r was ready for whatever it was he was
planning next.

Back in the living room, the game was over, and the post-game show
was still in progress. The other guys looked up with undisguised
interest as Dick led me to the center of the room. Then he left me
standing there and went to sit on the couch beside Art as Bob put
in a tape and turned on the stereo.

"Okay, Bambi," Frank said. "Let's have some real entertainment."

Then the   music started, a slow, sultry jazz composition that
seemed to steam with passion, and the four males sat before me
with their eyes fixed, eagerly, expectantly, on my feminized
anatomy. I felt like a piece of fancy pastry offered up before a
group of famished men.

"What am I supposed to do?" I asked nervously.

"Dance," Dick said. "You know, something seductive.

Really try to turn us on."

"But I don't know how," I objected.

"You're gonna learn," Art insisted, "right now."

I hesitated,- uncertain what to do, and then I tried to give them
what they wanted. I was pretty bad at first, moving clumsily from
side to side with my hands on my hips, but the guys kept
instructing me on what to do, how to move, and I got better.
What's more, the music actually began to inspire me after a while,
so I let myself go with it, tossing my long hair, massaging my
false breasts, grinding my hips, licking my lips, doing everything
they told me to and more, until I'd worked those guys up into a
frenzy. I had no doubt that each of them now had a raging hard-on
in his pants, for I had even given myself an erection with the 2
seductiveness of my performance.

When the song ended, I paused and glanced over at them, and the
desire burning in their eyes was truly frightening. I took a step
back involuntarily, and they all began to move from their seats
wearing menacing smiles. I took another step toward the hall, and
they were on their feet moving toward me. As I continued to back
away from them, they laughed cruelly and started stalking me, like
a pack of wolves closing in on-a helpless fawn. It was great fun
for them, but I was terrified, for I knew where this would lead,
and I saw no way to avoid it.

When I was about halfway down the hall, I turned and ran for the
bedroom, hoping to close and lock the door behind me before they
could reach it but as I ran I could hear them charging after me,
yelling `Get her! Catch her!" I had almost swung the door closed,
but then Art stuck his foot across the threshold and forced it
open again. They came at me all at once, grabbing me and carrying
me over to the bed. I screamed once, but then a hand clamped down
over my mouth, and it was all I could do just to keep breathing.

I heard the click of Dick's switchblade again and felt him
reaching up under the back of my nightie to cut away the bottom of
my undergarment as before, and then I was pulled onto the mattress
with the four of them all around me. They laid me on my back this
time, with Dick kneeling beside my head, Bob and Frank each
holding down one of my arms and Art clutching both of my ankles in
one of his big, calloused hands. I was still wearing the pink
bedroom slippers, and his thick, masculine hands contrasted
sharply with my slim, smoothly shaven legs, my small feet with
their pink toenails and the dainty high-heeled footwear.

Art held both my ankles in one hand for several moments as he used
his free hand to unzip his fly and free his erection, and I looked
around to see that each of the other guys was also exposing his
manhood for action. Four firm male organs surrounded me like
compass points, and I knew from experience that each of them would
soon be spewing its contents into one of my body cavities.

Still clasping my ankles with one hand, Art raised my legs up
until my feet were high off the mattress, and then his free hand
carefully lubricated my sphincter with a cool gelatin from a
container in his pocket. I knew what to expect after that. My legs
were spread wide apart with my feet still raised high in the air,
so that my bottom was actually lifted off the bed a little, and I
felt his erection slide between my ass cheeks, searching for the
socket it wished to plug. There was hardly any resistance this
time as his male dagger plunged deep inside me, and almost at once
I felt my thoughts being carried away on that strange cloud of
erotic pleasure. The ramrod that sank again and again into my
bowels was like a hot piston sparking my engine to life, and I
couldn't control the rocking motion that entered my hips, driving
him even further inside me.

As Art began to pump his manhood in and out of my bottom, Bob and
Frank each took one of my hands and placed it on his erection,
wrapping my girlish fingers like a soft cylinder of flesh around
his male meat. Their hands urged mine into steady stroking
motions, and through the daze of my unwanted arousal I realized
what they wanted and started to jerk them off as best I could.

And then it was Dick's turn. Kneeling behind and above me, he took
my head in both hands and tilted my face back until I was staring
directly into his crotch. His erection moved closer, aiming
directly for my mouth, and I thought of turning away or keeping my
jaws tightly clenched, but I knew it would do no good in the end,
and besides, I was already being sexually abused by three other
guys. What difference would one more cock make? So when I felt his
rigid staff against my lips I simply opened my mouth to let him in
and started sucking him off again.

It occurred to me then that if anyone I knew were to see me now
and recognize me, I would feel about as humiliated as a human
being possibly could. There I was all dolled up like some gorgeous
girl giving two guys handjobs, another guy a blowjob with a fourth
guy fucking me up the ass, all at the same time! I was not only
being used like a female by a male sex partner, I was being used
like a female by FOUR sex partners, so I guess it's accurate to
say that I suddenly felt four times as feminine as I had before.
Few real girls ever experience satisfying more than one guy in bed
at a time, but I was servicing my full quota, it seemed, and the
role had a definite demoralizing effect upon me. In just a few
days I'd gained more sexual experience with men than some women
get in a year, or a lifetime, and somehow it made me feel as
though I'd become at least partially female myself. I was still
physically a boy, but part of my mind was being changed by the
girlish thoughts it was forced to contain.

When each of the guys had finally ejaculated, they rested for a
while, smoking cigarettes, joints and crack and talking about
football, and then it started all over, with each guy rotating one
position clockwise. This second session was followed by a third
and a fourth, until each of the guys had had his chance to
sodomize me. It was quite late by that time, and I was totally
exhausted. I remember being kissed and hugged and fondled all over
while four male voices told me how sweet and soft and beautiful I
was, and then I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

MONDAY

The following day was June first. I made a note of the date when I
realized that this was officially the first day of my new life,
and since then I've used that date as my birthday, since it was in
fact the actual day of my rebirth. At that time, I became Bambi on
a daily basis. I had no more illusions about escaping from my
captivity. The guys obviously had no plans to release me for a
long, long time and with the threat of exposure they held over me,
there was no way I could defy them, so I was stuck in the role of
a beautiful teenage girl living as the mistress of four guys.

I awoke once more to find myself alone in bed. This times however,
I could hear voices and activity in the living room, and someone
was taking a shower in the bathroom. There seemed to be no reason
to drag myself out of bed, so I laid back and closed my eyes,
hoping to sink back down into the refuge of sleep, but minutes
later Dick was standing over me, shaking me and telling me to get
up.

"Hurry up," he urged me. "Art and Frank have to leave soon, so get
your cute little butt into the kitchen and get breakfast started
pronto."

I paused for a few seconds, considering my options, and then
nodded in agreement. Still dressed in my sandals, pink nightie and
torn undergarment, and with the blonde wig still in place, I
climbed off the mattress and minced past him into the hall. My
butt was incredibly sore from all the action it had seen lately,
and my whole body felt drained and full of minor aches and pains.
Art and Frank were in the living room watching cartoons and
rolling joints. They were already showered and dressed and ready
for work. They both smiled at me and wished me a good morning as I
entered the room.

"We went out to the store and got some stuff for breakfast," Frank
explained. "It's on the counter."

I nodded, knowing they expected me to cook it for them, and headed
for the kitchen.

"I'll take mine sunny side up," Art called after me, and then
Frank added, "Scrambled for me. I'll find out how the other guys
want theirs."

There were four bags sitting on the counter, all filled with food.
The guys had apparently splurged and gotten enough grub for all
five of us for at least a week. After unpacking all the groceries,
I started breakfast. As I was preparing the coffee maker, Frank
came in and told me how Dick and Bob wanted their eggs. I nodded
and then surprised myself by thanking him. He smiled and went back
to watch some more cartoons.

When I finally had everything ready, I stepped daintily into the
living room where all four guys were now gathered. Each of them
had a summer job that took up all his time on weekdays, so they
were all dressed and ready to leave. Art and Frank started work an
hour earlier than Dick and Bob did, so they were used to getting
up earlier, which was why they were up and dressed before Bob had
even started his morning shower.

For a moment the guys didn't seem to notice me, intent on dividing
up some lines of cocaine powder on a mirror on the table. Dick had
snorted several lines already before anyone realized I was there,
and then they all turned to me expectantly.

"Breakfast is ready," I announced timidly, and the news was
greeted with much enthusiasm. Before they would come to the table,
however, they insisted that I do a few lines of coke with them, so
I knelt down beside the table and accepted the plastic straw and
the handmirror with the drugs on it, inhaling my portion slowly.
The cocaine rush made me a bit anxious and jittery, but I felt
calmer and more at ease once the drug had taken full effect.

When everyone had done their quota of lines off the mirror, they
followed me to the kitchen, taking turns grabbing my ass as we
went. I put their meals in the microwave to warm them up as they
sat down, and then served them piping hot breakfasts that looked
and probably tasted a lot better than they could've made
themselves. I wasn't a great chef or anything, but because my
parents were always away I'd learned to handle myself in the
kitchen, which none of the other guys seemed to be able to do.

As they ate, frequently pausing to compliment me on the cuisine, I
just leaned against the wall staring out the window and nibbling
on a piece of toast. I had considered making myself a full
breakfast, but my appetite was poor due to stress and anxiety, so
toast and coffee were enough for now. I figured I could always
make something later if I got hungry after the guys left for work.

My daydreaming took me outside, into what seemed like "the real
world" to me, where my former life was taken from me. I wondered
what my parents were doing. They had to have seen Frank's forged
note by now. Had they called the police and reported me missing?
Did they believe the note was real? Perhaps they suspected the
truth, that I'd been kidnapped, and even now the FBI was
mobilizing its resources to find me. That didn't exactly comfort
me, since in my present feminized state I really didn't want to be
found and rescued anyway. I just wanted to hide from the world
until my captors finally decided to release me.

When the guys ware finished eating, I cleared the table and did
the dishes while they smoked and talked. Much of the talk was
about girls, and Dick and Bob ended by comparing notes about a
girl they had both dated recently. I wondered if now they'd be
talking about me like that when I wasn't in earshot.

Then Art interrupted to ask Dick if he had the tube of jelly in
his pocket, and when Dick nodded, Art told him to get it out. Dick
passed it across the table, and then Art removed the cap to spread
a generous amount onto his middle finger.

"Come here, Bambi," he said with an evil grin, and I swallowed
hard, knowing what he wanted. As I stepped beside him, he raised
my nightie with one hand and applied the gelatin to my sphincter
with the other. I closed my eyes in embarrassment, trying not to
wince or make a sound as I felt him reach up inside me. Then he
turned his chair toward me and had me stand with my back to him as
he unzipped his pants and removed his hardening erection.

"Have a seat, pretty girl," he said, and his hands took me by the
hips and lowered me slowly onto his lap. I hovered above him for a
moment as his male spear sought its target, and then with one
smooth, gliding motion I was pulled down onto his pulsating staff
and impaled on his manhood. We just sat there for a little while,
my smooth butt cheeks resting on his hairy lap, his strong arms
wrapped about me possessively, his firm member implanted deep
inside my rectum. Then he began to rock me back and forth, lifting
me slightly so that his cock withdrew until only the bulbous head
was still inside me, and then pushing me down onto his erection to
bury himself as deeply as possible. The pace grew faster and
faster, until I was virtually bouncing up and down on his lap with
his hard-on sliding rapidly in and out of my rear.

That strange feeling of pleasure was overwhelming me again, and I
heard myself moaning in the back of my throat, just like a girl
might do while making love to her boyfriend. The sound brought on
a chorus of laughter from the other three guys as they watched Art
and I going at it and made comments on our technique.

When Art finally erupted inside me, I was immediately passed to
Frank, whose lap was ready and waiting for me. I had noticed
during my unwanted sexual education that his cock was the
smallest, so it was also the easiest for me to accept among the
four, and this time it slipped inside with virtually no resistance
at all, like a piston entering a well oiled chamber. Frank was
fairly thin, and his thighs were much bonier than Dick's, so I
bounced up and down on his lap feeling more like a paddle ball
than a trampoline artist. He came quickly inside me with very
little warning, and then I was passed on to Bob.

By the time Bob had finished with me, Art and Frank were leaving
for work. They came over to where I was sitting on Bob's lap with
his shriveled and sated male organ still inside me, and each of
them gave me a warm kiss on the lips and said he would see me
later in the week on "our night." I watched them go out the door,
and then moved over to Dick's lap, where his big, stiff plug
awaited my warm, wet socket.

His cock was the biggest and the most difficult to accept, but
once it was inside, it filled me in a way I find impossible to
describe. He was stretching me to the utmost and touching me in
places no one else could touch me. Of my four male lovers, Dick
was by far the most stimulating and satisfying, and where Art had
gotten me to moan with pleasure, Dick simply drove me nuts. I
moaned, I gasped, I cried out. I wriggled my bottom and squirmed
in his arms as he lifted me up and then pushed me back down,
stabbing me again and again with his male dagger, and suddenly I
came, spewing globs of creamy fluid onto my delicate nightie as my
thoughts whirled in a deliriously thrilling orgasm. Dick climaxed
moments later, and I collapsed into his arms with a groan, feeling
strangely satisfied and comfortable.

Soon it was time for my other two lovers to head out for work, and
I stood in the doorway as each one gave me a deep, sensuous kiss
before rushing down the stairs and out the door. Moving to the
window, I watched them walking together toward the bus stop. They
turned once, saw me and waved so energetically that I just had to
wave back.

And then I was alone.

The first thing I thought of was escape. With no one watching over
me, I could undo the drastic feminization I'd undergone as much as
possible and then return home, saying nothing, of course, about
the incident to anyone, but as soon as Dick discovered I was gone,
he'd start telling everyone who the sexy cheerleader from Sunday's
game really was, and if I somehow managed to escape a pounding
from Dave and his teammates, there was always the possibility that
Mike would hear about it, put 2 and 2 together and come after me,
which might even prove fatal for me. In addition to the risk of
violent reprisals, there would also be the unendurable shame of
having everyone know what I'd been forced to do, or if they
believed Dick and the others, what I'd done of my own free will,
for they would certainly lie and say it was all my idea. I didn't
dare defy my captors in that way, and I knew it.

I thought for a while of simply running away and starting a new
life elsewhere, where no one knew me or my sadistic former
friends, but I had no answers to the questions of where I would go
or how I would survive. I was too young to legally work a full-
time job, sign a lease or travel alone without arousing suspicion,
and if I was picked up for vagrancy or loitering or something, the
cops would take me straight back to my parents, and I'd be in the
same humiliating fix as if I'd just gone home. Running away solved
nothing, for it was too unreliable to risk.

I was trapped. As long and Dick and his cohorts could reveal my
shameful secret to the community, I was in their power. The
thought flashed briefly through my mind that my problems would
vanish if my tormentors were to die, and I momentarily considered
the idea of killing them. It would be easy. A little rat poison in
Friday's dinner, and all my worries would be over... except, of
course, that I'd be a murderer, and I didn't think I could bear to
live with that, either. It simply wasn't in my nature to kill
another human being, no matter how much the bastard might deserve
to die.

There was only one safe, sure course of action, and that was to be
an obedient little slavegirl and do as I was told. My secret.
would remain safe, the risk of harm and humiliation would be gone
and my conscience would remain clear of guilt. The logic with
which I arrived at this conclusion seemed irrefutable, and with a
grim finality I came to accept the idea that I really had no
choice.

Looking around the apartment, I tried to come to terms with the
fact that this was now my home, and the perverse sexual antics
that would go on here would constitute most of my life. The girls'
clothes in the bedroom were mine, bought for me and to be worn
exclusively by me, as were the cosmetics and jewelry that came
with them, and the reflection of that beautiful girl in the mirror
would remain my reflection. The person I used to be was gone, and
in his place would now be Bambi, gorgeous sex slave of four horny
guys.

I thought briefly of my parents and how I would miss them, and I
recalled every detail of my old bedroom... the model planes, the
baseball trophies, the computer games; all of it was now
completely beyond my reach. I was a prisoner of my new life, and
like it or not, mine was now the life of a sexy teenage mistress.

I wandered around the apartment for a while, uncertain what to do.
Dick had left me written instructions on how I was to prepare
myself for that night's encounter with him, but I wouldn't have to
start getting ready for hours yet, so I watched a little
television to take my mind off things, but every time I saw a
commercial for some feminine product, like lipstick or pantyhose
or perfume, I was reminded of my plight, for such commercials now
held practical value for me and actually caught my interest, since
I was now a consumer of s