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 such products.

Eventually I grew bored with television and just sat around feeling depressed. The apartment was such a mess, and it smelled of stale beer and ashes, I could hardly stand being there. I considered getting dressed and going out, but the idea of slipping into one of my dresses and parading around outside in drag appealed to me even less than staying put. As depressing as the apartment was, at least no one could see me. Slowly an idea formed in my mind, and in the end I decided there was nothing better to do, so I set myself the task of cleaning the place up. After all, I thought, if I have to live here now, I might as well make the place livable.

I spent hours throwing out beer cans and pretzel crumbs, emptying ashtrays, putting away drug paraphernalia, stacking tapes and albums, cleaning stains out of the carpet, the furniture, the drapes, and basically getting the place as spotless as I could. Most of the work was in the living room, but I also spent a lot of time scrubbing the bathroom, which looked as if it hadn't been cleaned in months. When I was finished, the place looked fantastic, and I felt a lot better about having to be there. All in all it was really a great little apartment, now that I could actually see it. Except for the posters, the stereo and a few other juvenile touches, it now looked more like someone's home than just some party pad.

After making myself a quick snack in the kitchen, I realized it was time to start getting ready for my date with Dick. It was hard to believe that I was really going out on a date with a boy. What was even stranger was that I was about to make myself look attractive as a girl for him. How could I, only days earlier, ever have imagined myself in this position? It was all so incredibly bizarre.

by the time Dick arrived, I was ready, dressed and made-up exactly as he'd instructed, and the look in his eyes as I opened the door to let him in showed his approval. His gaze swept over me, from the frilly lavender ribbon in my long, blonde hair, past the tightly clinging minidress that displayed all my girlish curves to advantage, down my slim, smooth legs encased in black nylon, to the tips of my shiny lavender pumps with their tall, spike heels. Silver bracelets jingled on my wrists, and large hoop earrings dangled from my newly pierced ears. My face was made up to perfection, the result of much time and effort on my part, and even my fingernails had been repolished to match my outfit. Looking at my reflection earlier, even I'd had to admit that I looked beautiful, elegant and very feminine, so a I shouldn't have been surprised when Dick's eyes almost fell out of his head in admiration.

I was momentarily at a loss for words when he casually produced a bouquet of flowers and a box of candy from behind his back and held them out for me. He might have been teasing me again, and the flowers and candy Could've been just gags that would explode or humiliate me in some other way, so I hesitated, but the look of disappointment on his face when I didn't take them from him was so sincere that I realized he was serious. He'd brought me real flowers and candy, just as he might've done with a real girl. I accepted his gifts with an attempt at a smile and put the flowers in some water, leaving the box of candy on the coffee table.

"Thank you," I said timidly, knowing that was what he expected.

He stepped closer, putting his hands on my shoulders.

"A pretty girl doesn't have to say thank you with words."

His arms slipped around me as he moved closer still, and then his face descended on mine, his mouth seeking my soft, girlish lips. I tried to step back, but he held me firmly, and there was no escape. His kiss was passionate, tender yet aggressive, a very masculine kiss that was unlike any I'd ever gotten before. My breath came short, my knees felt weak, and I couldn't help returning his kiss a little.

When our lips parted, he smiled and winked at me. "Fix your face, kitten."

Reaching into my clutch purse, I took out my lipstick and compact mirror and carefully repaired the damage his kiss had done to my make-up, aware of his eyes on me the whole time, watching me as I made myself look as pretty as possible to please him.

Finally he asked, "Are you ready, princess?"

I felt the blush in my cheeks as I nodded.

"Then let's get going," he insisted. "I'm starved."

With one hand carrying my clutch purse and the other resting daintily on his forearm, I reluctantly allowed him to lead me downstairs and outside into the cool evening air. As we walked to the bus stop, he gave me new instructions on how to behave that night, and I was forced to slip my right hand into the front right pocket of his pants as my left slid into the back rear pocket, with the result being a very intimate form of physical contact.

I had to stand so close to him that my breasts would frequently brush up against his side, and my hips were rhythmically bumping against his as we walked. The fingers of my right hand were only inches from his crotch, while the palm of my left hand was resting comfortably on the upward curve of his left butt cheek. Once again I was cast in the role of a pretty girl who was obviously very possessive of her boyfriend, except this time there were some decidedly sexual overtones.

Occasionally I was allowed to take my hands from his pockets and simply hold his hand or put my arm around his waist, like when we were boarding the bus or getting off at our stop downtown. The rest of the time, however, I was to keep my girlish hands imprisoned in his pants.

There was one awkward moment when we arrived at the restaurant Dick had chosen; the hostess glared at me for a moment before leading us to our table, obviously displeased by my wanton show of affection in a public place. I wanted to explain that I had no more control over my actions than a puppet, but there was no way to make her understand. In her eyes I was a girl with a lot to learn about decorum.

Dinner was far more enjoyable than I would've imagined. Dick let me remove my hands from his pockets, then held my chair for me as I sat down. When he sat down opposite me, he immediately took hold of my hand and hardly let it go all through the meal, making us appear to be a very romantic young couple.

When the waitress came to take our orders, Dick ordered for us both, saying, "...and the lady will have..." making me feel quite feminine. I did my best to eat as daintily and gracefully as I could, taking tiny bites and using my napkin frequently. Dick appeared very pleased by my performance, and as we were finishing up I felt the tip of his shoeless foot slip between my legs to massage my inner thighs sensuously. I glanced around nervously, but no one could see what he was doing to me under the tablecloth, so I tried not to let my reaction show on my face.

He stopped after a few minutes, then whispered to me, "Now you do it to me."

I swallowed hard, knowing that he meant it, then reached down to casually remove one of my high heeled pumps. I let my stockinged foot slide up his pants leg slowly, gradually moving toward his lap. When my toes finally wriggled against his crotch, he smiled and took hold of my nylon-clad ankle, holding my foot in place against his growing erection. As I continued to caress his male organ with my toes I could feel it swell and harden beneath his zipper like a powerful animal rousing itself from a deep sleep.

"Can I get you anything else?" the waitress asked, suddenly appearing at our table. I tried to control the blush that warmed my cheeks as I shook my head and continued to fondle Dick's erection with my foot, wondering what she might think if she could see what I was doing. , She certainly wouldn't be half as surprised as she would if she discovered we were both boys.

I slipped my lavender pump back on my foot as Dick paid the check, leaving a big tip for the waitress, and then he took me by the hand and led me toward the restrooms.

"I have to take a piss," he said. "You go powder your nose, and I'll meet you back here."

With that he just turned and walked off, leaving me standing before the door to the ladies' room with no choice except to go inside. I felt a little scared as I entered, like a spy in enemy territory, and I was relieved to find there was no one else there. I stood before the mirror fixing my lipstick and patting my blonde tresses back into place until I figured that Dick was ready, then minced back outside.

Leaving the ladies' room made me feel even more feminine than going inside had, and I blushed again as I noticed several men nearby observing my exit, admiring my pretty face, my hourglass figure and my shapely legs.

It was a short walk from the restaurant to the movie theater Dick was taking me to, and soon we were standing in f line before the ticket window, my hands once again tucked deep into his pockets. As we neared the ticket counter I glanced at the girl working behind the money drawer and felt my heart skip a beat. It was Shelly!

I hadn't seen her since we'd stopped dating almost six months earlier, and I'd forgotten that she sometimes helped out her uncle by working a shift at the local theater. She was one of the last people on earth I wanted to see me dressed as I was, and I would've given almost anything to just leave that line and walk away, but with my hands buried in Dick's pockets, I was as helpless as a prisoner in handcuffs.

When I noticed that Dick had seen her, I met his gaze once to impart a pleading look, begging him with my eyes to get me out of this, but he just smiled and said nothing, so I let my gaze fall to my lavender pumps and waited for the inevitable to happen.

"Howdy, stranger," Shelly smiled at Dick when we stepped up to the window, but her eyes held no glint of recognition when she gazed at me. "Who's your friend?"

"Shelly," Dick said, introducing me, "this is Bambi."

I nodded to her and tried to smile, but I was terrified that any second she might realize who I really was and break out in a fit of hysterical laughter. Shelly'd always been such an ardent feminist, I could imagine nothing would have pleased her more than to learn that one of her ex-boyfriends had been forced to dress and act like a pretty girl and had even unwillingly engaged in sexual exploits with dozens of other guys. Looking at the world from her "side of the fence" would undoubtedly be good for me, in her opinion, so the more feminine I appeared, the more she would've enjoyed my suffering.

Dick exchanged a few pleasant words with her, and then he led me inside, much to my relief. We passed the refreshments stand and went straight to our seats, and Dick suggested with a chuckle that if I got hungry during the film I could suck on the lollipop he had in his pants. I didn't see anything funny about it, since I fully expected that I would have to do just that once the movie started.

We sat all the way in the back row tucked into one of the corners with no one even remotely near us, and as soon as we were seated Dick removed the lightweight windbreaker he'd been wearing and placed it in his lap. Then he gave me a stern look and took my hand, guiding it underneath the windbreaker to his crotch, and I understood what he wanted. Massaging his growing hard-on through the material of his trousers, I sat back and offered no resistance as he leaned over and kissed me. The kiss seemed to go on and on, becoming more and more passionate, until I felt his tongue slide between my lips to caress the inside of my mouth. He continued to French kiss me as the lights went down and the curtains before the screen drew apart, and then he sat back to watch as the projector began to roll and the screen flickered to life before us.

For a while Dick was content to have me rub his erection through his pants, but as the film got underway, he ordered me to open his zipper and reach inside. Working carefully with my long fingernails, I gently unzipped his fly and slipped my hand into the gap in the front of his boxer shorts to take his warm, hard flesh in my fingers. Keeping his windbreaker in place to conceal my activities, I slowly pulled his erection through the opening in his pants and set it free, then started stroking it tenderly, exciting it with the caress of my fingers and the tickling touch of my long, lavender nails.

Again, Dick was satisfied for a time, but then I felt his hand on the back of my neck, urging my head down into his lap, and I knew he wanted more. Hoping that no one would notice, I slipped from my seat and got on my stockinged knees between Dick's legs, and moments later I had his firm manhood in my mouth, licking and sucking like an old pro.

It might have been the excitement of doing it in public, but whatever the reason, his climax was incredible. I nearly gagged as the semen spurted out of his organ like oil from a gusher, wave after wave of male reproductive cells oozing down my throat, but finally he was sucked dry, and I was able to clean him up and tuck his manhood away in his shorts once more.

I spent the rest of the movie with my head resting peacefully on Dick's shoulder with his strong arm wrapped around me. I didn't pay much attention to the film, having already missed the first half, but I do recall one scene where the hero saves the beautiful heroine and she kisses him to show her gratitude. I remember noticing the way she leaned her breasts against his chest, threw her arms around his neck and lifted one foot behind her in the air as she raised herself on tip-toe to kiss him. The action seemed so incredibly feminine and seductive, and against my will imagined myself trying it out on some guy with passionate results. I appeared to have all the equipment a girl would need to make such behavior irresistibly attractive to males, and for the first time I began to consider the power to control and manipulate that females have over men, a power that I might now wield quite successfully, if I chose to do so.

At the end of the film, we sat and kissed while the theater emptied out, and then we headed for the main exit. With my hands stuffed back into his pockets, I once again appeared in the role of the overly possessive girlfriend, and rather than try to fight it, I simply let my head rest on Dick's shoulder again and let people think what they would about me.

We were walking past the line of people waiting to get in for the next show when I heard a sound that made my spine turn to ice. Trying not to look as frightened as I felt, I glanced up in horror to find my parents standing beside me, smiling at Dick and me as though we were the cutest looking couple they'd ever seen!

"Good to see you, Dick," my father said, shaking his hand, and then he smiled at me. "Who's this little beauty?" Dick introduced me as his girlfriend, Bambi, and neither of my parents seemed to suspect a thing. In a sense I was relieved that they had no idea who I really was, but on the other hand, it was disturbing to realize that I'd been feminized to such a degree that even my own mother and father couldn't recognize me. They saw me only as the girl Dick was dating, and what was worse, thought I was pretty! In fact, I was sure that I caught a momentary flicker of desire cross my father's expression, and another chill ran down my back. Not only did he fail to recognize me as his son, he was even entertaining thoughts about me as a sexual partner!

I suddenly felt as if something had been torn away from me, leaving me empty and vulnerable, and with a shudder I realized it was my masculinity. Standing there in my high heels and miniskirt, hanging all over another boy like a lovesick girlfriend, looking on as my own father sized me up as a potential bedmate, it was as if all my old feelings of boyishness instantly drained out of me, leaving an aching gap that slowly filled with an indescribably intense sense of femininity, as if I had suddenly been transformed into a real girl beneath my sexy clothing, for a similarly drastic alteration had just taken place inside my head. In my thoughts, my emotions, my very being, I suddenly understood with perfect clarity just what it felt like to be a girl!

With this strange surge of emotions overwhelming me, it was difficult to pay attention to what Dick and my parents were discussing, but eventually I realized that they were talking about me, the real me, or the old me, and I listened more closely. My father was explaining that I'd written them a note saying that I was running away from home, but my parents weren't very concerned about it, since I'd done that sort of thing before and always came home with my tail between my legs within a week or two, and of course that was true; I had pretended to run away in the past, mostly to punish my parents by making them worry needlessly, and now the boy who cried "Wolf!" was no longer taken at his word.

I was glad that my parents weren't agonizing over my whereabouts, but I was also hurt by their indifference with regard to my disappearance. I would've thought they cared more about me than that, but apparently I was wrong, and the knowledge really stung deeply.

After Dick and my parents had exchanged a few more pleasantries, we bid them goodnight and continued on out of the theater, and I never even glanced back. There were tears in my eyes by the time we reached the bus stop, and before long I was crying uncontrollably, sobbing into Dick's windbreaker like a child. He seemed to understand what was troubling me and offered what comfort he could, holding me Close as he whispered in my ear that everything was all right and that he'd take care of me. I offered no resistance as he rocked me in his arms, and soon I was quiet again, cuddling against him like a baby dozing off to sleep after a fit of crying.

We didn't talk on the bus ride home or the walk back to my apartment. I was too depressed for words, and Dick seemed to sympathize, holding his silence. Once we were back upstairs, Dick took me straight to the bathroom and let the water run in the tub as he stripped off all my clothing and jewelry, even my wig and make-up, leaving me standing stark naked before him. At his command I stepped into the tub and lowered myself into the warm, soothing water as he sprinkled bath salts around me, then added a capful of bubble bath. I leaned back and closed my eyes as the pink froth began to rise around me once more, filling my nostrils with the scent of flowers that I now recognized as my own Personal fragrance.

After the bath had had a chance to soak up some of my tension, Dick returned, now naked, and helped me out of the tub, toweled me off, rubbed body lotion into my skin and dressed me in a satin nightgown that hugged my shape like a vale blue mist. In a single swift motion, he scooped me up into his arms and cradled me against his chest, and I let my arms encircle his neck for support as he carried me across the hall to the bedroom.

It was a shock to see my reflection in the full-length mirror beside the vanity table. My wig was gone, I wore no make-up or jewelry, and my figure lacked the padding that had earlier given it such luscious female contours, and yet I still looked like a girl! In part, it was my painted fingernails and toenails, my plucked eyebrows and my smoothly shaven legs that maintained my image of femininity, but there was also something in my posture as I snuggled in Dick's arms, the way I held my head, the way I moved my hands, and something in my face, my expression, the look in my eyes... something that said "GIRL" in capital letters.

I knew then that the transformation I had felt inside was also visible on the outside. Something in me had changed, and I not only felt like a girl, I also looked like a girl, even without cosmetics, a hairpiece or padding. It was a difficult realization, but one I had to accept, for I could not deny that the eyes staring back at me from the looking glass were indeed the soft, sensitive eyes of a girl!

Dick seemed to have sensed the change in me too, for he was strangely gentle and tender with me. Instead of the rollicking sexual escapade I'd expected, he simply laid me on the bed, pulled the covers over us and turned off the light. He was so strong so irresistible as he took me in his arms and caressed me but unlike the rough, demanding, almost hostile treatment I'd received from him before, now he was gentle, tenders almost loving. He asked nothing from me, but concentrated instead on stimulating my senses. His fingers wandered everywhere over my smooth skin, and his tongue played delicately with the boyish nipples on my chest as if they were the full, ripe nipples of two real breasts.

Eventually he turned me onto my side facing away from him, and I felt his hairy legs and torso press against me from behind as his arms encircled me again. We lay together matching curve for curve, like two spoons in a kitchen drawer, and he continued to fondle and caress me at a slow but deliberate pace. His foreplay was so engaging and so distracting that he was sliding his stiff manhood inside my back door before I'd even realized he was in position. This time there was no rapid pumping, no urgent crescendo, but instead a slow, steady gliding motion, in and out, in and out, like the methodical movements of a sexual-ballet.

Inside me, the tingling, erotic sensations I now knew so well began to build and build, slowly but inevitably gathering toward an unspeakably satisfying climax, and when in the end I finally released my load into the pale blue nightgown I wore, I couldn't contain the low, guttural moan that escaped my throat; even in my own ears it sounded like a girl reaching orgasm. Perhaps it was the sound of my passion being fulfilled that sent my male lover over the edge, for at that same moment his rigid pole trembled and injected its contents deep inside me. We remained locked together, basking in the afterglow, and I quickly fell asleep with Dick's manly sword still buried up to the hilt in my soft, girlish bottom.

TUESDAY

I awoke the next morning to find Dick leaning over me to kiss me. Apparently he'd gotten up and showered and was already dressed and ready to leave. I accepted his kiss and even found myself kissing back a little.

He sat on the mattress beside me for a while, holding my hand and talking in a soft, soothing voice. He asked me if my earache was still bothering me, and I didn't know which was more surprising, that he remembered or that he cared. I'd actually forgotten about it myself, since it had caused me only mild discomfort now and then since my ordeal began on Saturday, three days earlier. I assumed the infection was gone and told him so.

He explained that he was taking the day off from work to run some errands in "the city," about a two hour ride each way by bus, and that he expected to be back around mid-afternoon with some surprises for me. I reminded him that it was Art's night to be with me, and that Art was planning to take me to the frat party downtown. As I spoke, Dick got a strange look in his eyes: I would've almost sworn it was the green glint of jealousy flickering there, but of course that was silly. He just nodded his head and said he'd be gone long before Art came to get me, and with another kiss, he was on his way out the door.

I went back to sleep for several hours and didn't get up until noon or so. Then I just lounged around the apartment for a while, looking for something to do. I spent a few hours watching television, reading comic books and doing my nails, changing the color from lavender to sparkling silver. It was about two or three in the afternoon, and I was in the bedroom, seated naked before the vanity table, adding the last touches of cosmetics to my face in the make-up mirror, when Dick finally returned with an armload of packages.

He wasted no time in presenting me with my gifts, starting with some sexy half-bras, some low-cut blouses and a few V-necked dresses. The clothes were of good quality and no more feminine than I was used to by now, but it was obvious that I wouldn't be able to wear them without exposing the falsies on my chest. When I pointed that out, Dick just grinned like a Cheshire cat and handed me another large package. I opened it cautiously, wondering what he was up to now, and I gasped when the wrapping paper fell away to reveal the container's bizarre contents.

It was basically a shirt or vest by design, neckless and sleeveless, reaching only to the midriff or so, but it was totally unlike any garment I'd ever seen or imagined. The material looked exactly like skin, colored a pink fleshtone similar to my own skin color, and it was obviously meant to fit quite tightly, judging by its elastic qualities and small size. The most remarkable thing about it, however, were the two very realistic-looking breasts blossoming on its front.

"Put it on," Dick insisted.

I hesitated, looking the thing over closely, but I knew better than to try to argue, so I simply slipped the garment over my head and did my best to pull it into place around my upper torso. The material clung to me like what it was, a second skin, except in the area of my chest, where the two bulging mounds of seemingly female flesh rose prominently, bouncing and jiggling and looking every bit as natural as if they'd grown there. The nipples were large and dark pink and permanently erect. Once Dick had applied some waterproof make-up to the edges, the color of the garment blended perfectly into my own skin, and the charade was virtually undetectable.

The breasts looked so real sitting there on my chest that I was almost surprised that I couldn't feel them when my fingers began to explore this startling new addition to my appearance. The sight of my girlish hands cupping and caressing a pair of very female breasts, MY breasts, was unexpectedly arousing and I felt a strange stirring in my loins.

The sight must have had the same effect on Dick, for when I looked up at him, he was glaring at my breasts with a serious case of lust. His hands reached out to touch them, first cupping one and then the other and then holding them both in the palms of his hands as his thumbs tickled and teased my huge nipples. He seemed to be enjoying himself to no end, and I was sure that if those breasts had been real, I'd have been in ecstasy from all the attention he was giving them. As it was, all I could do was stand still and let him have his fun.

He continued to feel me up for a few minutes, then dragged himself away, like a hungry man on a diet. He handed me one of the sexy half-bras he'd bought for me and began to open the last few packages as I strapped the bra around my chest and hooked the front clasp securely. The cups only covered the lower half of each breast, leaving most of the nipple exposed, and they were designed to lift and accentuate each fleshtone mound into eye-catching 1 fullness, creating a deep cleavage between them. I had to admit that I looked quite provocative in that bra.

When the last of the packages had been opened, Dick handed me a pair of matching panties, very sheer and cut high up on the hips, and I stepped into them at once. I didn't realize until the panties were in place just how special they were, but once I was wearing them I immediately felt the draft between my legs and the frilly borders of the Opening to be found there. At first I thought they might be open-crotch panties, like the kind I'd seen advertised in magazines for horny women, but a brief inspection with my long-nailed fingers revealed that the opening was much farther back, directly above my anus. They had been designed to be worn during sex, just like the open-crotch kind but these had been intended for sex through the back floor a kind of "sodomy special," I thought grimly.

Dressed in my sexy underwear with my boobs hanging out in front of me, as if they were just begging to be held and fondled, I knew I made quite a tempting dish for the eager male standing before me, so it was no surprise when he finally lost control and lunged at me, throwing me onto the bed in a single, swift motion. He practically tore off his Clothes in his haste to join me on the mattress, and he caused only long enough to lubricate his erection with gelatin before leaping on top of me like a wild animal. We had a mutually satisfying round of sex, and then he Collapsed with his head resting peacefully between my new breasts and my smooth legs still wrapped possessively about his waist. Feeling strangely content, I just lay there and held him in my arms as he took a short nap.

He awoke at the sound of someone unlocking and opening the front door to the apartment, and we looked at each other in panic, knowing that Art had arrived a little earlier than expected. Grabbing his clothes, Dick rushed over to the closet and hid inside as I hurried out of bed and rushed to go meet my date for that night.

Art was looking rather tired and depressed when I first saw him, but the moment he saw me standing in the hall in my bra and panties with my new breasts in plain view, his eyes lit up like candles. He ogled the mounds of flesh on my chest in disbelief, until I explained how Dick had purchased the unusual garment and dropped it off for me. His curiosity satisfied, he immediately set about investigating my new physical attributes. Then he began smoothing his hands over my smooth skin, going everywhere, touching, tantalizing, exploring, and when he discovered the opening at the rear of my panties, he knew immediately why it was there and determined to make use of the access it offered without delay.

Sweeping me into his arms, he carried me to bed and began kissing and fondling me, slowly stripping off his clothes a little at a time, until he was finally lying naked on top of me. It took only a moment to lubricate his staff, and then he was plunging inside me again and again, thrilling me with a feeling of sexual gratification I was now quite familiar with.

As I lay beneath him, impaled on his manhood, I thought of Dick hiding in the closet and listening to it all. Perhaps he was even peeking, watching us through a crack in the door. Somehow that seemed to make the act even more perverse and even more erotic, and I couldn't contain the sounds of pleasure and satisfaction emerging from my throat, and knowing the effect they'd have on Dick when he heard them made them even harder to contain. Was I trying to make Dick jealous? I really wondered.

Once we'd finished making love, Art and I got dressed and ready to go out. He was wearing his usual dungarees and workshirt, and his clothes contrasted quite strikingly with my new, low-cut silver minidress, my dark nylons and my silver pumps, each with a sexy strap about the ankle. He looked like he was going to work; I looked like I was going to a fancy dress ball. He didn't seem to mind, though. In fact, he sometimes had trouble taking his eyes off me. With my wig and jewelry in place, my make-up repaired and my silver clutch purse in hand, I was ready, and we left without further delay. As I locked the apartment door behind me, I thought of Dick in the closet and wondered what his night would be like tonight.

We arrived at the party just as it was getting started. I was incredibly nervous at first and did my best to persuade Art not to take me in there-, since I assumed it would be crowded with people who knew me, as frat parties usually were. He was obstinate, however, and insisted on "showing me off," so I had no choice but to let him lead me inside the frat house.

My first few encounters with people I knew were harrowing, nerve- wracking experiences, for I was constantly afraid of being recognized, but when one person after another kept accepting me as a pretty, blonde- girl named Bambi, I gained some confidence in my disguise. It was ridiculous of me to have worried at all, of course. My own parents hadn't recognized me, and now that I had breasts, very noticeable breasts practically spilling out over the top of my dress, it would have been miraculous for someone to have guessed who I really was.

As we mingled with the other guests, drinking German beer from a keg on the porch and munching on chips and other snacks, I eventually started to relax and have a good time, despite the embarrassment I felt every time I caught some guy looking at my breasts. It was also a bit embarrassing the way Art kept fawning all over me, fetching me drinks and rolling joints for me and making sure I was comfortable. At every opportunity he could find, his hands were on me, resting on my hips, circling my waist or clutching my girlish fingers tightly, making him appear as possessive of me as I had appeared with Dick the day before. It bothered me to think that he could touch me whenever and however he wanted while I couldn't even say anything about it, but in another sense it was also rather flattering to get so much attention and to have someone desire my touch so strongly.

When we danced, I tried my best to imitate the girls I'd seen dancing earlier. For the fast songs, I wiggled my hips, jiggled my breasts and shook my long hair behind me, hoping that I didn't look too awkward in my high heels, and for the slow ones, I melted into my partner's arms and let him lead me as he chose. It felt strange to have those two false mounds of flesh bulging between us as we embraced, but Art didn't seem to mind in the least, and to be honest I guess I didn't either, since the more female I appeared on the outside, the less likely it was that anyone would suspect who I really was on the inside.

After a while it seemed that Art was trying to introduce me to everyone at the party, and he made no secret of his carnal interest in me, which was surprising at first. He'd kiss me and hug me and grab my ass right in front of everybody, as though he'd have nothing to be ashamed of if my secret were somehow revealed. I wondered if he could be so dumb as to believe that my identity was truly undetectable, that no possible circumstance could arise resulting in my exposure as a boy in skirts. It was unlikely, yes, but not impossible, and I couldn't understand his casual attitude about it.

It had been the same with Dick the night before. He hadn't seemed the least bit ashamed of being seen on a date with me or kissing me in public, and he also appeared unconcerned about the possibility of someone recognizing me. As I thought about it, I believed for a moment that I had them right where I wanted them. If they'd been seen in compromising positions with me, then how could they dare to expose me if I disobeyed them? They'd have just as much to lose as I would! Both Dick and Art had been on dates with me, kissing me! They'd be humiliated too if the truth came out! They didn't dare to threaten me anymore!

This idea brightened my thoughts considerably for a moment before I saw the flaws in my logic. True, Art and Dick had kissed me and dated me, and they might even admit that they'd made me suck them off and then raped me, but no matter how much they had to hide, it was still nothing compared to what I was hiding. Letting some guy blow you and giving some guy a blowjob are very different things as far as the males I associated with were concerned. Dick and Art

would be teased and forgiven. I'd be ostracized forever, or worse.

What was even more disturbing was the realization that Art and Dick wouldn't even have to admit anything. They could deny any involvement in my feminization and claim that they'd been fooled right along with everyone else. Would anyone doubt them? In public, they'd treated me just like a real girl, even kissing me openly. They could simply point to their behavior in support of their claims of innocence, saying that they never would've kissed me like that in public if they'd known I was really a boy. In the end, they'd probably be believed, and I'd be ridiculed, hated and possibly attacked.

No, if anything, treating me like a real girl only made Art and Dick more secure in their defense, so the idea that at first had seemed so liberating was really just another reason to give up hope of ever escaping their clutches.

We ran into Bob and Frank at the party later on, and after Art had explained my newest acquisition, both guys looked quite pleased by the prominent breasts I was displaying so boldly, each of them probably eager for his chance to check them out more intimately. I gave each of them a kiss on the cheek, and then Art dragged me back onto the dance floor for another slow turn around the room. I noticed that Dick was conspicuous by his absence and wondered why.

As we were dancing I saw Shelly, my old girlfriend from the movie theater, standing near the keg talking to some of her girlfriends and looking pointedly in my direction. I assumed that she was telling them how she'd seen my out last night on a date with Dick, and she was probably implying that I was "easy" or "too loose" or something. Somehow that didn't bother me the way it should've, and I smiled at the thought that Shelly was just jealous.

Toward the end of the festivities the frat brothers who had organized the party tried to enlist as many girls as possible to participate in a spontaneous wet t-shirt contest on the back patio. They'd supply the t-shirts if we supplied the boobs. I wanted desperately to refuse, but I was no longer free to make my own decisions, so I turned to Art with a pleading look in my eyes, hoping he'd give me a break, and to my great relief, he did. The two boob-hungry college students were quite disappointed when Art explained that we were just leaving and put his arm around me to lead me to the door, saying goodnight to people as we passed them.

Once outside, I breathed a sigh of relief, and without thinking I turned and gave Art a generous kiss to show my , gratitude. I was almost as surprised as he was, but the urge to do it had come so suddenly and felt so natural that I hadn't been able to control it, let alone understand it. It just happened. He hesitated a moment in bewilderment, then returned my kiss with enthusiasm.

"Thanks, Art," I sighed when our lips finally parted. I cupped my breasts in my hands and smiled at him shyly. "I was afraid you were gonna make me show these off in front of everybody."

"I thought about it," he admitted, "but when you looked at me so sweet and innocent, I just couldn't."

Brushing my girlish fingers aside, he took my breasts in his hands and caressed them lovingly. "Besides, I don't want to share these babies with anybody."

He delivered the line so comically, and I felt so stupid with him feeling me up as we stood there under the Streetlight, that I simply had to laugh. He began to chuckle too, and his eyes gleamed with amusement as they fixed on the breasts that jiggled in his grasp when I laughed. We shared the moment, sensing a feeling of tenderness growing between us, and then he stepped forward, taking me into his arms to kiss me. I let my arms encircle his neck as I'd seen the girl in movie do, with my hands hanging limp behind him, and balancing on one tip-toe, I lifted my other foot behind me, knowing full well how feminine I was acting, but somehow it felt right.

We were both drunk and tired when we arrived at my apartment later that night. He made us some nightcaps while I slipped into something more comfortable, and then we spent a little time watching television and snuggling on the couch before he finally carried me to bed. My false breasts commanded most of his attention for some time, and I found myself almost wishing I could feel them as he licked my nipples and kneaded the soft feminine mounds on my chest like they were real. Eventually he got around to business, stripping off his clothes and lubricating his male dagger before stabbing me from behind as I lay on my stomach beneath him. Soon we were both gasping in mutual Satisfactions and then he fell asleep on top of me. I rolled him over gently onto his back and cuddled against him feeling strangely comforted by his hairy arms and his broad, manly chest, and as I slept that night I dreamed that he was a tall, valiant knight in armor and I was the beautiful princess he adored.

WEDNESDAY

Art was already gone when I awoke late the next morning, but I found a note taped to his pillow that read as follows:

Bambi,

Thanks for a wonderfultime last night. Lookingforward to seeing you againon Friday night with thegang. Take care and staybeautiful.

Love,

Art

P.S. - I'll miss you.

I was momentarily put off to find myself the recipient of a love note from another boy, but as I thought about it, it did seem kind of a sweet thing for Art to do. I imagined that he must've felt pretty stupid writing that note, so I tried to appreciate it in the spirit it was given and even ended up putting it away in the nightstand drawer as a keepsake.

When I finally got up and went to the kitchen to make myself a cup of coffee, I found another note waiting for me on the kitchen table, this one from Dick. I'd forgotten that he'd been hiding in the closet when Art and I left for the evening, and I wondered now how he'd felt about it at the time. The note rested on a small stack of magazines and was taped to a thin plastic container about the size of a compact case, and it read as follows:

Bambi,

Here's a little presentfor you from your fan club.Take one every day withoutfail, or I'll spank yourcute little behind. See youFriday, sweetheart.

Love You,

Dastardly

P.S. - Got you something toread, too. Enjoys

The magazines were all copies of female-oriented publications like Sweet Sixteen and Boy Crazy for girls or Ladies Only and Fashion Focus for women. I put them on the coffee table and wondered if there was actually anything in them worth reading.

Opening the plastic container, I was shocked to discover that it was filled with birth control pills, all lined up in a circular arrangement, each one marked with a calendar date from 1 to 31 to help keep an accurate track of their consumption. I assumed, at the time, that this was just another of Dick's psychological ploys, intended to unman me and make me feel like a real girl, but I learned much later, to my great surprise, that these pills actually contained female hormones, and when taken as ordered, they would slowly alter my blood chemistry from male to female. In my innocence, however, I took the pills faithfully, never suspecting the drastic physical consequences that would result until it was far too late.

Frank dropped by around lunch time to tell me he was taking me out to the carnival at the fairgrounds that night and to help me pick out something cute and sexy to wear as his date. He spent some time playing with my new breasts, amazed at how realistic they were, and then I fixed him something to eat and obediently sucked him off as he sat at the table having lunch. Afterward, he kissed me good-bye and went back to work for the afternoon.

When he returned around six that evening, I was all ready to go, dressed in the tight-fitting, low-cut peasant blouse and black leather miniskirt he'd selected for me, as well as a pair of spike-heeled black leather pumps on my stockinged feet, large, golden hoops dangling from my ears and a black beret perched atop the golden tresses of my wig. Frank looked very pleased and greeted me with a warm, passionate kiss.

The fairgrounds were about an hour away by bus, so we arrived just as it was getting dark. We walked around for a bit, checking out the attractions, and then Frank bought me a cotton candy and had me sit on his lap while I nibbled at it daintily. It was the first time in a long time that I'd had anything sweet to eat, and I really enjoyed it.

After that, we went on several rides. I loved the merry-go-round, although I did have to ride side-saddle because of my tight skirt, and I had a good time, despite my reservations, when we tried some of the kiddy rides. I imagine it must've looked a little unusual for a girl my age to be going on such childish rides, but I didn't mind as long as Frank was with me, for everyone seemed to understand that we were just a

young couple looking for fun, and no one gave us a second look, except of course for the many guys who continuously stared at me lustfully, but I was getting used to that by now, and it no longer bothered me.

The roller coaster, however, was another matter entirely, and once we started downhill, I spent the entire time trying to climb into Frank's lap and screaming my head off, just like the other girls on the ride. I'd never been bothered by roller coasters before, so I wondered at my reaction, but so many things about me seemed to be changing lately that I just took it in stride. I was much more worried by the way I thanked Frank by kissing him on the lips when he told me we didn't have to go back on the roller coaster. Such actions were becoming more and more instinctive and uncontrollable and that frightened me a lot more than my sudden fear of roller coasters.

It was our ride on the ferris wheel, however, that I found most exciting and frightening in a way I never could have imagined only a week earlier. As we climbed slowly toward the top, pausing again and again to allow another car below to be loaded, Frank began to get passionate, kissing me and feeling me up, discreetly at first, but then with such mounting enthusiasm that he didn't even seem to notice when the wheel had taken on its last passengers and started to spin at full speed. Neither did he seem to care that people could see us as we swooped through the lower half of the circle we traced above their heads.

It was almost like we were on view in some kind of rotating display case, and I caught glimpses of the people below looking on in amusement as I tried to fend off my boyfriend's lustful advances. I struggled to maintain a certain decorum before the eyes of so many witnesses, but there wasn't much that I could do with Frank pawing and kissing me like there was no tomorrow. I managed to remove his hand from inside my blouse, and each time he unzipped my skirt I was able to zip it up again before he could remove it, but things were getting very serious, and I wasn't sure where this was going to lead, but I was damn sure that this wasn't the time or place for it.

When the ride finally slowed and came to a stop to start unloading passengers, we were about midway up the rising half of the wheel, and it was then that I learned just how serious Frank intended to get, for as I looked on in stunned silence, he opened the zipper of his trousers and removed his stiffening erection, pausing only to lubricate it with some gel from a container in his pocket before hoisting me up off my seat and pulling me onto his lap, where his greased and eager manhood waited to impale me.

With great reluctance, I raised my skirt and settled onto his thighs, feeling his magic wand slip through the opening in the back of my panties and plunge deep inside me, stirring my emotions and arousing my passions in the strange way that I still didn't quite understand but could no longer resist. Bouncing and squirming on his lap, I gasped with pleasure each time he reached inside me, and as we rose to the height of the wheel's arc, I looked out over the countryside with house lights and streetlamps glittering like stars in the distant darkness below, and it felt as if the male organ I was riding on had lifted me hundreds of feet above the world, carrying me off into the clouds and beyond in search of a joy I'd never known before. This ecstatic feeling, almost a religious experience, went on and on until I finally felt him tremble and jerk inside me, releasing his male juices in joyous spasms, and then I too could wait no longer and emptied my load into the crotch of my panties.

And not a moment too soon. As I recovered from my post-coital daze, I realized that we were more than halfway down the wheel's height, and people were already able to see inside our little car and observe our x-rated antics. I quickly settled back onto the seat beside Frank and repaired my make-up using my compact mirror as he nonchalantly tucked away his shrinking erection, and we did our best to look casual as we waited for the car to reach bottom.

That was when I saw her. she was standing beside a hot dog vendor with her new boyfriend pointing up toward Frank and me with a look of disbelief and indignation on her face. It was the third time she'd seen me in three days dating a different guy, and I'm sure Shelly was as appalled by my seeming popularity as she was by my apparent inability to say "No" to a boy. yet I was also sure that she'd trade places with me in a second if she could.

Then I noticed that other people were also staring at us, and one group of college guys was laughing and making jokes about our apparent lack of self restraint, but no one said anything to either of us as we emerged from the unloading platform and walked quickly, hand in hand, toward the game booths.

For almost an hour, Frank proceeded to impress me with his many and varied skills, first at the rifle range, where he shot a record number of targets and won a big stuffed panda bear, which he gave to me of course, and then at the dart throw, the coin toss, the softball pitch and the basketball hoops. Through it all I just stood beside him, cheering him on like a proud girlfriend, my arms increasingly burdened with the prizes he'd won for me.

In the past, I would've eagerly tried my hand at all these challenges and entered into competition with the other boy, but now I had no interest in shooting baskets or knocking down milk bottles with a softball. I was content to stand in the background and watch as my boyfriend competed for me, knowing that I would reap the benefits of his success. Besides, dressed as I was, engaging in such boyish activities was simply not practical. After all, I might've broken a nail, smeared my make-up or gotten a run in my stocking. I was dressed to please and tease the boys, not to act like them.

The last booth was a dunk-the-clown baseball throw, where hitting the target dead center would cause a narrow platform above a tank of water to collapse, plunging a circus clown into the drink. In order to attract customers the clown did his best to irritate and anger likely prospects, hoping to get them mad enough to spend half a buck trying to dunk him. It worked, too. He got some guys so furious they couldn't see straight, let alone hit a small target with a baseball from twenty feet away, and the whole time we stood there watching I only saw him get dunked once. The crowd cheered the hero who'd hit the target, and the clown, now soaking wet, got a little nasty after he'd climbed back up to his platform and resumed his former place.

Then he saw Frank and me, and the moment his eyes swept over my feminized form I knew I was in trouble. He began to flirt with me, calling me all kinds of insulting names, and when that failed to make Frank mad, he started putting me down, ridiculing the size of my breasts, criticizing my make-up and suggesting that I engaged in certain off-color activities with animals late at night. I blushed brighter with each comment he fired at me, and soon I actually felt tears welling up in my eyes. I wanted to turn and run as fast as I could in my high-heeled pumps, but just as thought I could take no more, Frank let go of my hand and took a step toward the booth.

"Okay, asshole!" he shouted hoarsely. "I hope you drown!"

With that, he paid the clown's assistant, grabbed his three baseballs from the rack and let loose with his first cannonball. The target rang loudly as the ball hit dead on, and the clown went under with a terrific splash. Even angrier now, the clown started to antagonize Frank again even before he'd resumed his seat on the platform, but he was barely in position when Frank's second baseball connected, and down he went once more.

He'd been taken by surprise that time, and he was gurgling and gasping for air when he came up. He waved his fist at Frank and started yelling as he climbed back up to his perch, but he hadn't even gotten both feet on the platform when Frank's final volley hit home, and with a wildly comical somersault, the clown went down a third time, head first into the water. When he emerged at last, clutching the side of the pool for support, he said nothing and didn't even look at Frank.

With a grunt of satisfaction, Frank turned away and walked back over to where I'd been standing and looking on in sheer awe. I doubted if even a major league pitcher, even my favorite player, Gene "Lightning" Logan, could've gone three for three hitting that target. Something had spurred Frank on to go beyond his best possible effort, and the thought that his inspiration had been defending me made me feel proud and strangely confident. I wasted no time in planting a big "thank you" kiss on his lips the first possible moment, and he received it readily.

"You're my hero," I whispered with a smile, and he grinned back like a little kid who just discovered ice cream.

Other than the roller coaster, the only attraction at the carnival that I didn't enjoy was the fun house. It was amusing in the beginning, but toward the middle I actually started to get scared, and I held onto Frank just like the timid teenage girl I appeared to be.

The worst part, however, was at the end, where the people in the fun house have to cross a balcony in plain view of the entire fairgrounds, and a blast of cold air shoots up from the flooring, causing pants to balloon outward and skirts to rise straight up. As a boy, I used to enjoy hanging out with the other guys by the fun house to watch the girls as they shrieked and tried to pull their skirts back down when the air blast hit them, but now I was a girl in a short, skimpy skirt, and the boys out there would be waiting for me to expose myself to their leering gazes, and there was no way to avoid it. Fortunately my skirt was very tight, hugging my butt cheeks closely, so when the air blast rose from the floor, it hardly raised my hem more than an inch or two, and the boys outside got little more than a teasing glimpse of my frilly panties and smooth, girlish crotch.

Frank saved what he called "the best" for last, and the final attraction we visited that night was the very popular tunnel of love. After leaving my stuffed toys and other prizes with the attendant, I took Frank's hand and let him help me as I placed one high-heeled pump and then the other inside the tiny boat, which was designed to look like a gigantic swan.

Settling down on the narrow bench beside him, I thought back on the few times I'd taken girls on similar rides and how my only ambition had been to get as far as possible with them before the boat emerged on the far side of the tunnel. Now, ironically enough, I was the girl being taken into that dark interior to be accosted by her date, and it would be Frank's ambition to get past third base with me, if possible. He took my hand gently in his, and I tried to smile at him as the man operating the ride pushed our little boat away from the dock and let it drift into the slowly moving current of the large, circular watercourse that would carry us through the donut-shaped tunnel and back again.

Frank made his move before the boat had even entered the tunnel, fondling my breasts and pulling me close for a deep, probing French kiss. Knowing what to expect, I reached down and daintily unzipped his fly, then slipped my girlish fingers inside his pants to grasp the bar of flesh concealed within. Unbuttoning my blouse, he quickly unclasped the front of my bra to reveal my false breasts in all their glory, and he spent several minutes kissing and licking the swollen nipples as I began to stroke his erection to full size.

His attention finally wandered from my breasts down to my nylon- clad thighs and what lay between them, and I gasped as I felt his middle finger reach up inside my panties to tickle my sphincter. The opening puckered at his touch, trying to seize and hold onto his finger, but each time it did he teased me by unplugging his cork from my bottle and tickling me again. It was incredibly arousing, and I heard myself gasping with pleasure at his every touch.

Then, almost with a will of its own, my hand released his male organ and slipped inside his pants pocket to grab the container, of gelatin I knew was in there. Smearing a generous amount of the grease paste onto my fingers, I massaged the gel onto his straining erection, carefully coating it from tip to base while urging it to grow even larger and harder. All the while, our lips met again and again and our tongues intertwined like mating snakes.

"Hurry," I whispered, sounding remarkably like a girl in that dark, echoing tunnel, "take me now."

Laying me down on my back across the narrow bench, he quickly mounted me and thrust his male lance deep into my bowels. My legs were sticking straight up in the air with my spiked heels pointing toward the ceiling, and my arms were wrapped around his neck in a clinging embrace as he began to pump his firm flesh in and out, in and out, like the tamping rod of a butter churn gone wild. The little boat rocked crazily, making splashing, rippling noises on the water as we bobbed up and down and side to side and back and forth, all to the rhythm of Frank's frantic pumping.

The orgasm I felt building inside me was frightening in its intensity, and when it finally exploded inside me, I couldn't hold back the girlish scream of delight that burst forth from my lungs and echoed throughout the tunnel. A moment later I felt Frank let loose inside me, and then he collapsed on top of me, exhausted but very, very happy. The current was relentlessly carrying our little boat toward the end of the tunnel and the bright lights of the carnival outside, so with a simultaneous sigh of regret, we both hurried to put our clothes back on and resume our seats on the bench before we were exposed to the eyes of others. I was just fastening my bra clasp as we passed under the lip of the tunnel, and I rebuttoned my blouse quickly, painfully aware of the teenage boys who stood nearby and commented on the nature of my recent activities inside the tunnel with my boyfriend, suggesting that they'd enjoy a similar ride with me anytime.

By the time the boat drifted up to the dock, I had repaired my make-up and looked unmolested once more. I gratefully accepted Frank's hand as he helped me up onto the dock, and once we'd reclaimed my prizes from the attendant, he led me away from the crowded attraction, back toward the bus stop and the journey home.

We sat on the bench holding hands and talking about all the things we'd seen and done as we waited for the next bus to arrive, and when it finally came we took seats near the back and fell asleep in each other's arms.

I awoke sometime later to find the bus driver standing over me and gently poking my arm. "Isn't this your stop, Miss?"

Glancing out the window, I realized we were back in our neighborhood, and I thanked the driver before tenderly waking Frank with a kiss. He took a few moments to return my affection, then helped me to my tired feet and led me to the exit with his arm around my waist. The bus driver watched us go, eyeing my retreating behind in my tight leather miniskirt and then casting Frank a look of envy before driving off.

Back in my apartment, we collapsed into bed side by side, still fully dressed, and with a few tender goodnight kisses, we drifted off to sleep in each other's arms.

THURSDAY

Frank and I both woke up a little before seven in the morning when the sound of crashing garbage dumpsters announced the arrival of the sanitation truck that came every Thursday before dawn to antagonize the entire neighborhood. Frank wasted no time in stripping off our clothing from the night before, and when we were both naked, he proceeded to warm me up with some foreplay before eventually mounting me from behind and doing it doggie-style on our knees, his hands reaching forward to firmly caress my artificial breasts the entire time. Afterward, I made him breakfast while he showered and got dressed for work, and then I sucked him off as he ate like a dutiful little housewife. He paused at the door to give me an extremely long and passionate kiss before heading down the stairs and outside.

I spent most of the morning glancing at the magazines Dick had gotten for me the day before, though I had to stop every once in a while and ask myself why. why was I looking at girls' fashions and trying to imagine myself wearing them; why was I reading articles on dating and sex written from the woman's point of view and hoping to get insights from them; why, above all, was I enjoying it so much?

I told myself over and over that I had no choice; I didn't want to be a girl, but I was one, and that was that, no sense denying it. I told myself I might as well learn all I could about the new role I'd been forced to take in life, but that explanation really didn't satisfy me, for the feelings I got sitting curled up on the couch with my imitation breasts pressed between my knees gazing at the pictures and reading the articles was one of contentment, not necessity.

Somehow reading those magazines made me feel more like a real girl inside, and considering that I had no choice except to be a girl on the outside, being one on the inside too was simply a way of making life easier and less tense. If I couldn't fight against my feminization, the only way to 4 reduce the stress I felt was to accept myself as a girl the way the other guys had, so reading those magazines in a way was like therapy for me, aligning my thoughts with my deeds to eliminate the friction between them, since it was nearly impossible to read that material and have a single boyish thought in my head.

I skipped lunch again as part of a diet I'd put myself on, hoping to lose that slight tummy bulge I'd noticed when I wore a tight skirt or dress; it probably wasn't noticeable to anyone but me, yet like any pretty girl I wanted my figure as slim and shapely as possible, so I went hungry a lot, but the results were already starting to show, and I was at that time thinner than I'd ever been in my life.

Late afternoon I started getting ready for my date with Bob, relaxing in a warm bath before slipping into my sexy underwear and dark, sheer nylons. I wore the most conservative dress I had, a simple black cocktail dress with long, sleeves, a loose-fitting turtleneck and a hem reaching almost to my knees. The material molded itself to the contours of my feminine shape like black paint, and the skirt was so narrow I had to take tiny, baby steps that made me mince even more than usual in my shiny, black leather pumps. My make-up on, my jewelry attached and my wig in place, I stepped gracefully before the mirror and smiled, knowing that Bob would be very pleased. What guy wouldn't be?

I hadn't realized it beforehand, but of the four dates I had that week, my date with Bob was to be the most difficult for me emotionally. I'd always been closest to Bob, in age, in size, in temperament, and I always had the most fun hanging around with him, just he and I doing things together, like going to ballgames in "the city," so when he'd told me on Sunday that he planned to take me to see a night game against the American League's leading team Thursday night, I was actually looking forward to it, but the moment he arrived that evening I immediately perceived that things were not going to go as I'd expected.

I opened the door and struck a sexy pose thinking that Bob's eyes would light up with approval when he saw me in my tight-fitting black dress, but strangely enough he just gave me a curious look, as though he wasn't sure what to say to me. His reaction made me feel nervous, but I tried to smile as I said hello and asked him to come in. He made no attempt to kiss me or even come near me as he entered, and then he stood around looking uncomfortable as I got him a beer and rolled a joint for us to smoke.

When I lit the marijuana cigarette and passed it to him, he took it from me and paused, staring for a moment at the lipstick stain I'd left on the end before he took a hit. Once we'd smoked the joint down to a mere stub, I used my long, silver fingernails as a roachclip, holding the pink-stained end to my lips, then to his. He seemed reluctant to take a hit this way at first, staring at my girlish fingernails as if he'd never noticed them before, but then he leaned forward and took a puff, his eyes looking dark and distant.

"You've sure changed since Sunday," he said at one point, noting the way I sat with my legs tightly crossed at the knees in a typically feminine pose, and I certainly couldn't argue with him, so I just shrugged and reminded him that I really didn't have any choice in the matter, which made him retreat into that brooding silence again.

He did seem to enjoy the dinner I cooked for us, especially the wine sauce I made to go with the roast, but the burning candles I'd put on the table and the romantic music playing in the background seemed to make him nervous somehow. When I noticed that it was nearly time to catch our bus, he helped me clear the table, leaving the dirty dishes in the sink until the next morning, and I got my purse and my scarf and was ready.

As we walked to the bus stop, I absentmindedly tried to take his hand, but he pulled away, pretending to scratch his head, and it was obvious that he was reluctant to touch me, which made me wonder why. I had lots of time to think about it, for he barely said two words to me as we waited for the bus, appearing deep in thought and perhaps a little sad. What was going on in his mind?

When the bus arrived, he paid our fares and we took a seat toward the back, away from most of the other passengers, as we usually did, and we passed the time during the ride by playing a one-on- one trivia game, as we had so many times before, but somehow Bob's heart just wasn't in it anymore. Our games used to be very competitive, but this time I beat him round after round, and he would just nod and pretend to be impressed with how much I knew about baseball, as if I were a real girl. Eventually he lost interest in the game altogether and just sat in silence, looking out the window.

After a while I got so upset by his behavior that I nervously reached out toward his hand resting on the seat between us and caressed it with my girlish fingers. He turned to me with a startled look, and I leaned close to whisper in his ear, "What's the matter, buddy?"

He gazed at me strangely for a moment, then moved his hand to his lap and looked away. "Nothing."

Feeling suddenly rejected, I looked down at my feminine hand on the seat between us, the slender fingers with the long, sculptured, silver nails trembling slightly as placed them back in my skirted lap with a sigh. I gazed out the window and watched the familiar terrain go by, thinking back on all the trips Bob and I had made together on that bus. It was comforting to relive those moments, and in those memories I found the key to what was wrong with Bob, though I placed little value on my discovery.

For the first time since Dick had transformed me into his slavegirl, I was doing something I wanted to do, with someone I liked to be with, and I was trying to have fun, to enjoy life like old times, but times had changed, and I was no longer the boy I once was, or even a boy at all in most respects.

Thinking back on the way things had been less than a week ago made me realize then what Bob had recognized right from the start... it would never be the same between us. Going to a ballgame with him again, I'd been trying to recapture the past and perhaps escape the present, but my life had changed too drastically, and in trying to retrace my old footsteps I found that my high-heeled pumps just didn't fit. I could no longer be the person I was, and I could no longer do the things I once enjoyed doing. Bob and I could no longer be friends', as we once were, but if that was true, then what were we to each other?

I knew then why Bob had felt so uncomfortable around me that evening. Of the four of them, only Bob really knew me and liked me before last Saturday, and of the four he was surely the most reluctant to force me into something I didn't want to do.

If the other guys were doing it, peer pressure would motivate Bob to join in, so he showed no hesitation in raping me the previous weekend, but now we were alone, and unlike the other three males, he wasn't aggressive enough to force himself on a girl, especially a girl who used to be a boy and a friend. In my mind I could imagine the dilemma he was in; on one hand, knowing who I was and wanting to treat me as the friend he'd known, and on the other hand; seeing me as a sexy, desirable girl and wanting to do something about it. In his confusion, he didn't know whether to arm wrestle me or kiss me.

Knowing what troubled Bob did nothing to reduce the strain between us. If I tried acting like my old self, he'd look at my stockinged legs or my female figure or my pretty face, and his eyes would register "girl," sparking desire in his loins, making it impossible to treat me the way he once did, but if I tried acting like a girl, part of him would remember who I really was, and his memory would protest that I was a fraud, nothing more than his old friend in drag, making it impossible to accept me as a girl. So, rather than find a way to resolve Bob's confusion, I only succeeded in getting depressed myself, and we rode all the way to the bus terminal in a tense silence.

As the night went on, things proceeded to get worse. When we disembarked at the terminal, I remembered how we used to race down the escalators to street level, weaving in between other, slower- moving pedestrians as though they were just objects on an obstacle course. Bob usually won, though I always gave him a good run for his money, and we'd pant together and laugh and the loser would say, "Wait 'til next timed But not this time. In my narrow skirt and high heels, I found it difficult enough to walk; there was no way I was running anywhere, so the race was off, postponed indefinitely.

Neither of us said anything as we walked slowly to the escalators and rode them down, but I know Bob was thinking the same thing I was, and it made me sad, as if I'd become physically handicapped or something, for I was beginning to see that as a girl there were some things I just couldn't do, and running through bus terminals was one of them.

Before long I discovered many more things I could no longer do. out on the street, Bob and I used to take a short detour to the x- rated part of the city and look at all the prostitutes and sex shops out of curiosity, but dressed as I was, we both realized it would be a mistake for me to walk those streets now and possibly be mistaken for a hooker. Standing outside a porno house and ogling at the naked women, while looking prettier than the best of them, would also attract too much unwanted attention, and somebody might get suspicious. For me, the x-rated neighborhood had become off-limits, which meant Bob had to abandon the detour as well, and that made me feel bad.

Our next stop was usually a topless bar on the border of the red- light district where the bartender never bothered to ask for I.D. if you looked older than fifteen, but once again my female appearance made that a risky proposition, for girls who hung out there were usually looking to get laid, so the second stop on our old agenda was also canceled due to my feminization. Instead we went to a crowded pizza shop across from the sports arena and had soft drinks, sitting across from each other at a booth with an uncomfortable silence hanging between us.

Since we arrived earlier than usual, the sports arena was not as crowded as it had seemed in the past, although it soon would be, of course. Instead of running from the topless bar all the way to the main gate and standing in a long line to get in, we simply walked casually up to the ticket taker, who was just opening up for business, handed over our tickets and went inside. The vast corridors that circled the stadium's seating platforms seemed deserted as we headed for our section, and I could hear echoes of my high heels tapping on the concrete flooring with each step.

Before trying to locate our seats, Bob and I used to take a pitstop in the men's room, both to relieve ourselves after all the beer we'd drunk and also to sit in adjoining stalls and smoke a joint by passing it under the partition between us. I was sure that Bob wanted to get high before the game started, as usual, but there was no way we could use the restroom together anymore, and there was nowhere else safe to light up. I didn't really want to go into the ladies' room and smoke one by myself, so I offered to wait for him while he went to the men's room alone. He gave me that strange look of discontentment again, then nodded, knowing that there was nothing else we could do, now that I was a girl.

While I waited, I continued to brood on all the things I'd miss out on if my life as a girl were to continue, as it seemed it must. No more sports like football, baseball and hockey. No more rough-housing with the guys. No more dates with girls. No bachelor parties. No drinking contests. No hunting trips. No masculine fun of any kind. All I had to look forward to were new recipes to try in the kitchen, a new apron for doing housework in, new dresses, new shades of lipstick and nail polish, new bras to show off my breasts, new ways to look pretty for my boyfriends, and night after night of dating the four guys who'd taken away my masculinity and made me their sex slave. I was still really a boy, and still very much wanted to live as one, but the only future that awaited me was a future in skirts, and the only life I could live was the life of a pretty girl named Bambi.

By the time Bob returned from the men's room I was feeling about as depressed as I could get, or so I thought. We found our seats quickly and sat in silence waiting for the game to start, each of us lost in his own thoughts, and when the game began it seemed that he was almost as disinterested as I was in following its progress.

By the second or third inning I was hardly paying any attention to the game at all, so when I heard the crack of a bat and everyone around me jumped up, I didn't realize what was happening at first. Climbing to my high-heeled feet, I glanced up to where everyone was looking and saw the ball heading straight down at me! My first instinct was to go after it; even without a glove I knew I could catch it if I tried! No one had a better shot at it than I did! It was mine if I wanted it!

And then I remembered... I was a girl! I couldn't go leaping up onto my seat and snatching baseballs out of the air! I'd probably trip in my heels or rip my skirt or break a nail or something! I'd definitely get a lot of strange looks and raise suspicion unnecessarily. No, as much as I wanted that ball, the girl I'd become could do no more than watch it come down and cower back out of the way as the guys around her went grabbing for it.

Bob had a shot at it, but the ball came down a little on the far side of me, so I was directly in his way, and it ended up being snagged by the bald guy behind me. I saw the disappointment on Bob's face and felt sympathetic, but then his eyes turned to me with disapproval and disgust, quickly fading into a look of pity mixed with contempt. It wasn't my fault that I was a girl, and he knew that better than anyone, but he still seemed disappointed in me, as though he'd expected me to somehow retain my masculinity, despite the dresses and nylons, the make-up and jewelry, even the sexual demands of my male captors. Somehow he was more disturbed by my inability to catch that ball than I'd been, and that made me feel even worse.

I sat with my eyes downcast, staring at the pointy toes of my black pumps for the rest of the game. Had I been made into a girl too easily? Had I submitted when I should have fought back? Was Dick right in declaring that I was just a "pussy" after all? Did I deserve Bob's friendship and respect when I so obviously had lost all respect for myself? Question after question ran through my mind, only serving to make me more and more despondent as I failed to answer them.

Bob left to go to the men's room again for another joint during the seventh inning stretch, and I took the opportunity to check my make-up in my compact mirror, feeling somehow like a traitor to my own sex. The girl looking out at me from the mirror had a sad, haunted look in her eyes, the same look, I realized, that I'd seen all night in Bob's eyes, and suddenly I knew what it was... the sorrow of mourning, regret, remorse. Both of us were grieving over the loss of his friend, the boy he used to hang around with, get drunk with, come to ballgames with... the boy I used to be. It must seem to Bob, I thought, as though I died, and now he's dating this girl who somehow reminds him of me. Strange as that was, it was certainly nowhere near as strange as the truth.

When Bob returned, he looked excited, and he couldn't wait to tell me what had happened. The restroom had been crowded, so he took a walk toward the bullpen to watch the pitchers warming up while he waited, and as he was standing beside the ground level fence, Gene Logan walked by on his way back from the dugout. He'd been my favorite pitcher for years, and Bob also thought he was a legend on the mound, so as the man passed by, Bob said hello, and much to his amazement, Logan actually stopped and talked to him for a while. They exchanged insights into the game in progress, and the pitcher was impressed with Bob's knowledge of the two teams involved, and in the end he invited Bob to bring a, friend to the locker room after the game to meet the other players. It was like a dream come true! This was better than any foul ball might've been! To meet the players themselves! Wow!!

I shared in Bob's excitement instantly, and I was just as anxious for the game to end now as he was, for the sooner it was over, the sooner I could meet my hero, Gene Logan, and maybe get his autograph or shake his hand. This would make up for everything that had gone wrong that night, I thought, but I was sadly mistaken.

With the last pitch, Bob and I rushed over to the locker room entrance, eager to take advantage of Logan's invitation, and sure enough Bob's name was on the guard's list of people to be admitted after the game, and it even said that he could bring a friend with him, but as we started for the door the man put out his hand to stop me, saying with a smile, "I'm sorry, Miss, this is the men's locker room. Ladies aren't allowed."

I was dumbstruck! Of course they wouldn't let me in, not dressed like a girls What had I been thinking of? Even if I'd been allowed in, did I really want to parade around in front of a room full of naked baseball players looking prettier than most girls? It would be awful!

I looked at Bob and saw the disappointment in his eyes. He hadn't considered what would happen either, and now he was torn between fulfilling a dream and remaining loyal to a friend. Instinctively, I knew that he'd stay with me, if I asked him to, rather than just abandon me outside while he enjoyed himself, and I also knew that I didn't want that. It would just be something else to feel guilty about, another reason Bob could be disappointed with me for being a girl, so I tried to hide my emotions and told Bob to go ahead without me.

"Go on," I insisted when he started to object. "I'll go powder my nose or something while I wait. Go ahead!"

He seemed relieved, then disturbed that I wasn't coming with him, but in the end he went without me anyway. I stood by the door, watching him vanish down the hall, and then I turned and walked slowly into the ladies' room. I spent a few moments touching up my make-up in the wall mirror, trying not to think about my disappointment. I had just finished applying a new coat of gloss to my lips, when the depression that had been building inside me finally became overwhelming, and suddenly my tears were flowing like water over a broken dam. I sobbed loudly and lowered my face into my hands, unable to contain my sorrow any more.

"I don't want to be a girl," I whispered in a choked, gasping voice. "I don't want to be a girl!"

The woman who entered the restroom shortly afterward found me like that, standing before the mirror, head in hands, crying my eyes out, and naturally she was sympathetic, asking me gently what was wrong as she offered me her shoulder to cry on. Feeling fragile and vulnerable, I gratefully accepted her consoling embrace and let her put her arms around me in a motherly way as I shed my tears into her blouse. It was so unlike me to break down in front of a stranger like that, but then I wasn't even sure who I was anymore, so who's to say what type of behavior was like or unlike me. It certainly felt natural at the time.

Once I managed to get my crying under control, I made up some story about how my boyfriend was mistreating me, and the woman accepted my explanation without question, even offering me some womanly advice on how to handle men, rather pointed advice that made me blush when I realized that I could actually use it. After all, I did have four boyfriends to contend with. If anything, I needed to know how to handle a boyfriend even more than most girls.

After I'd thanked her for her sympathy and support, she helped me fix my make-up again, showing me a few little tricks I could do with my mascara wand that made my eyes look even bigger and sexier than before. We parted with a sisterly kiss, and I thanked her again before stepping outside to see if Bob was back yet.

Much to my surprise, he was waiting for me right outside the ladies' room door, and even more surprising was the fact that standing beside him, still dressed in his baseball uniform, was the one and only Gene Logan!

I stopped dead in my tracks when I saw him! It was him! It was really him!

"Bambi," Bob said, putting his arm around my waist to lead me over toward the man, "this is Gene Logan."

"I know," I said with a dreamlike tone in my voice.

"Mister Logan," Bob continued, "this is my girlfriend, Bambi."

"Hello, Miss," he said, extending his hand. "Bob tells me that you're my number one fan."

I slipped my girlish fingers into his big hand and shook it gently, hardly able to believe that I was touching the legendary pitching arm of "Lightning" Logan. I was speechless with awe, and he seemed amused by my reaction.

"When Bob told me he'd come to the game with a friend," the man explained, "I didn't realize he was talking about a girlfriend, or I wouldn't have told him to meet me in the locker room, but as soon as he explained and told me you were waiting outside, I saw my mistake, and... well, here I am."

I just stood there in a daze for a moment before I realized that I was still holding onto his hand. He didn't seem to mind, but I quickly released my grip anyway. My first thought was to say something like, "It's so awesome to meet you, man! I can't believe how bitchin' your pitchin' is, y'know?" but then I remembered how I was dressed and figured I'd better adjust my vocabulary to fit my new image.

"I'm so pleased to meet you," I said in a soft, feminine voice. "I've admired your pitching for a long time."

"I'm very pleased to meet you, too," he said sincerely. "When I asked Bob if his girlfriend was pretty, he told me you were the best-looking girl in the whole damn city, and now that I've seen you, I must... I think he's right."

I blushed bright red and lowered my long eyelashes modestly, unable to think of anything to say, except "Thank you very much."

"Thanks for giving up so much of your time, Mister Logan," Bob said, offering him a farewell handshake. "I knew Bambi would be heartbroken if she didn't get to meet you."

"You're both quite welcome," he replied, and after shaking Bob's hand, he turned to me again. With a smile, he put his hands on my shoulders and leaned closer, and before I realized what he was going to do, he'd planted a friendly, almost fatherly kiss on my lips. "Good-bye, Bambi. Bob's a lucky guy."

I was stunned! He kissed me! He actually kissed me!! I hardly noticed as the man turned away and started back toward the locker room, my mind was in such turmoil! I'd finally met my all-time greatest sports idol, the man I most wanted to be like in the whole world, and instead of shaking my hand and wishing me well, he'd actually kissed me and said that he envied my boyfriend! He didn't see me as a young version of himself, ready to follow in his footsteps! In his eyes, I was just a pretty teenaged girl with an interest in baseball, or at least baseball players! If he ever thought of me again, it wouldn't be to wonder if I was doing well in my softball league; more likely he'd fantasize about what it might have been like to take me to bed!

Even with everything that had happened to me in the last few days, I couldn't recall ever feeling so depressed or humiliated before. I was numb, emotionally exhausted, and I let Bob lead me to the bus terminal in a kind of mental haze. Every so often, he'd stop and ask me what was wrong, but I had no answer, so I simply stared off into space, ignoring him until he finally gave up and started walking again. I don't remember getting on the bus or the ride back. The next thing I knew Bob was helping me up from my seat and leading me toward the exit. We were home again.

We walked back to my apartment in silence, and I was hardly even aware of Bob's presence most of the time. When we reached my new home, he had to dig my key out of my purse and unlock the door, since I made no effort to do so myself. Once inside, I sat at the kitchen table and continued to stare at nothing, like a zombie, while Bob got us some beers and rolled up a fresh joint. He was just lighting up when I suddenly felt my deep-seated emotions rising irresistibly to the surface, and with a gasp of pain I fell off the chair, my head clutched in my hands, and collapsed onto the floor at his feet, crying hysterically.

Of course, Bob was startled, and at first he tried to pretend he didn't care, but his feigned indifference soon melted away before my relentless sobbing, and he fell to his knees beside me on the floor, cradling me in his arms and whispering in my ear, "It's all right. Don't cry. I'm here. I'll take care of you. Don't cry."

His voice was strong and sincere, with no trace of the sad uncertainty I'd heard earlier, and the only thing stranger than hearing him say these words to me was the way they made me feel inside. Each syllable he uttered carried more weight of comfort in it than any I'd ever heard before, for it meant that he'd reached a decision at last. The turmoil in his mind had ended, and he'd finally settled the disturbing confusion he felt over who and what I really was. That part of him that so doggedly held on to memories of the boy I used to be had reluctantly given up, and the part of him that desired me, lusted after me the way a man lusts after a woman, had won at last. His old friend was dead and buried in his mind, and I was just Bambi, a pretty girl crying in his arms.

The realization of that fact should have upset me even more than being kissed by my sports hero did, but, oddly enough it had the opposite effect. Knowing that Bob now accepted me completely as a girl and nothing more than are girl seemed to ease the tension I'd been feeling, as if I'd been torn between two lives that were rapidly diverging and ripping me in half, but then a choice had been made, and it hardly seemed to matter that the choice hadn't been mine, for I accepted it, and that was what counted. Bob had decided for me. My old life was gone, and I was Bambi, at least for the time being.

I snuggled against him as he picked me up and carried me into the bedroom, and my crying slowly subsided as he gently, carefully stripped off my clothing, jewelry and wig and helped me into bed. Then he removed his own clothes and slipped under the covers beside me, his body feeling warm and firm beside mine. Kissing and fondling me, he continued to offer comfort and support, telling me how beautiful I was, how much he cared for me, how much he wanted me, and I responded with the passion of a real girl. I drank from his lips and let my fingers wander all over his body, exploring everywhere but finally settling around the rigid pole rising between his legs.

After so many recent sexual escapades, that night experienced a true romantic coupling with another male for the first time, for we did not just have sex; we made love. And for the first time since I'd been feminized, I did not feel the slightest reluctance or guilt in satisfying my partner, for I no longer felt that we were two males engaged in some perverse and immoral sex act; it was as if I was truly female now, despite the evidence between my legs, and wanting to satisfy my male lover was the most natural thing in the world.

It was sheer ecstasy to feel him deep inside me, knowing how much I could please him, and when he finally came, I climaxed with him, soaring through imaginary clouds on the most incredible orgasm I'd ever had. I fell asleep hugging him to my imitation breasts with my legs wrapped possessively around his, and that night I dreamed he was a famous baseball player named Bob Logan, a pitcher with a lightning fastball, and I, of course, was Mrs. Bambi Logan, former fashion model, his beautiful and adoring wife.

FRIDAY

Bob and I woke together the next morning, and we stayed in bed for a long while just talking, renewing our friendship on a somewhat different footing. He'd decided to take the day off from work and spend it with me, so we lounged under the covers, holding and caressing each other as any young couple might as we talked.

First, he apologized quite sincerely for his part in kidnapping and mistreating me, and explained that he was too intimidated by Dick and the others to refuse to be involved, let alone to help me against them, and I knew it was true. In fact, no one knew better than I just how intimidating Dick could be. I told Bob that I forgave him, and when he asked me if I wanted him to help me stand up to the others now, I smiled and said it was a little late. That made him feel guilty, so I explained that as long as the guys could expose me, there was nothing I could do anyway. Much as he might want to, he simply couldn't help.

"I'm afraid I'm stuck like this," I said, gesturing toward my artificial breasts, "until the other guys let me go."

"Well," he sighed, "if you have to be a girl, I'll do my best to see that you're a happy one."

I kissed him. "You're doing a good job so far."

We made love again, and the experience was as wonderful as I'd remembered it. Then we showered together before going to the kitchen for breakfast. I made him eggs and bacon, and then got down on my knees between his legs to suck him off as he ate, but before I could start, he put his hands under my arms and lifted me back into my seat beside him. Placing the plate of food between us, he insisted that I join him for breakfast. I felt like there were little pink hearts in my eyes instead of pupils as I gazed at him lovingly, and he smiled back, looking quite gratified. We talked a bit more as we ate together, and I felt closer to him than I ever had before.

After breakfast, Bob decided to take me on a picnic for the day, so I put on a light summer dress and my white sandals with the double anklestraps. The dress was made of a soft, pale blue fabric like silk that swirled around me every time I moved. Underneath, I wore only a pair of frilly pink panties, going without bra or nylons, and the outline of each girlish nipple was clearly visible through the thin material of my dress. Once my make-up was done, I added my wig, earrings, bracelets and a few splashes of perfume, and I was ready. Bob had dressed quickly and put together a little picnic lunch for us to bring, along with a blanket, radio and some other odds and ends, so as soon as I came out of the bedroom he took my girlish fingers in his free hand and led me downstairs.

We walked past the bike trail to the woods that bordered the apartments and continued on along the forest path for a couple of miles into a valley that followed a winding stream between two tall hills. At one point, the path crossed over the stream at a shallow ford, and rather than let me get my sandals wet, Bob insisted on carrying me to the other side. I felt so safe and content in his arms, I was reluctant to let him put me down again, and when he finally did, I gave him a big kiss to show my gratitude.

Leaving the path, we walked across a shelf of solid rock, my high heels clicking loudly with each step I took, until we came to a little isolated dell. There was a clearing amid the trees, right beside a patch of wild flowers, and Bob set up our picnic there.

We sat together on the blanket, and I was relieved to take the weight off my high-heeled feet, for walking in the woods in my girls' sandals had proven quite strenuous, and my ankles were tired. We listened to the radio and munched on some of the snacks Bob had brought, and for a little while things weren't very different than they might've been a week earlier, before I became Bambi. We commented and joked about stories we heard on the newscast, and after listening to the sports news, we discussed our favorite teams and their chances of winning the pennant that year. For a brief time, I almost forgot what had happened to me and started feeling like my old self.

Then everything changed. There was a lull in our conversation. The radio was playing a slow, romantic love song that I once would've hated, but now found rather sweet and sentimental. As the singer repeated his confession of love over and over, I met Bob's eyes and saw a look of desire kindling there.

Without a word, we moved toward each other, and he pulled me onto his lap as we began to fool around, kissing, hugging, fondling, caressing, nibbling and tickling each other. Finally I raised myself onto my knees to allow him to get into position and prepare himself, and then I sat back down on his lap facing him. The greased and ready erection protruding from his trousers slipped inside the opening of my special panties and found its target with ease, driving itself deep inside me, and then I started to slide my bottom up and down as he laid there, letting me do all the work, a look of perfect contentment on his face. I came first, spraying my juices into my pink panties, and then I felt him erupt inside me with a tremor like an earthquake. I collapsed into his arms with a sigh, and we rolled onto our sides and snuggled together for a while in silence.

After a brief rest, Bob insisted we go skinny-dipping in the stream, and though I tried to point out that someone might see me, he disagreed and was obstinate about it, finally just taking my clothes off, despite my protests. Stark naked, except for my jewelry, wig and make-up and that strange feminizing garment that put girls' boobs on my chest, I was led by the hand into the chilly running waters of the stream. I tried to keep my lower half submerged at all times, which made me feel safer from prying eyes, and after a while I relaxed and enjoyed the cool water flowing around me. In the end, Bob practically had to drag me back out of the stream, I was having such a good time.

Back at our picnic site, Bob dried me off and helped me get dressed again, and then I did the same for him. We spent the rest of the afternoon sun bathing, Bob sitting against a broad tree reading to me from a book of love poems as I lay stretched out on the blanket with my head resting on his lap. It was so idyllic that if I could've stopped time, I would've done so right then, just to make the moment last forever. It was actually kind of sad when the sun started dropping toward the horizon and we realized it was time to go back. We retraced our steps along the same path, holding hands and walking in a strangely meaningful silence.

Ironically enough, we were just re-crossing the bike trail at the edge of the apartment complex when who should appear casually riding her ten-speed to work but my new old girlfriend Shelly. She nearly lost control of her bike when she saw Bob and me walking hand in hand, carrying the remnants of a picnic lunch. Her eyes were bursting from her skull as her glared at me, both astonished and envious to find me out on my fourth date that week with yet another guy. If she only knew!

When we returned to my apartment, I convinced Bob that it would be better for him to leave and come back later, rather than to let the other guys know that he'd stayed the whole day with me. I saw him to the door, and we kissed for a long time before he finally started down the stairs, and once he was outside I rushed to a window and waved to him until he was out of sight. Then, with a heavy sigh, I started to prepare dinner for my "guests" that evening.

By the time the guys arrived, all within a few minutes of each other, dinner was ready, and so was I. The meal was a terrific success, for though I made plenty, there were no leftovers, but despite that the guys seemed to hardly even notice the food. They sat around the table staring at me the entire time, making casual conversation, but always with their eyes drifting back to me. Admittedly, I did look ravishing. I'd taken extra time applying my make-up and putting my hair up in a sexy, sophisticated style. I wore my tightest, sexiest evening gown, the white one with holes cut out in strategic places, and underneath, in addition to my laciest bra and panties, I wore a garter belt and sheer stockings for the first time. I not only looked but felt about as feminine and beautiful as I possibly could, and the guys seemed to eat it up like candy.

At the end of the meal, Dick made a toast, and the others joined him in raising their wine glasses.

"To Bambi," he said. "May she keep growing lovelier with each passing day."

I blushed and thanked them all in a soft, timid voice.

"And now," said Art, pushing his unfinished dessert aside, "let's get to the surprise."

Frank and Bob agreed, so Dick conceded and took some papers out of his pocket with a mysterious smile on his face. I tried to imagine what those papers might be, but even my wildest guess was short of the mark.

"As of this moment," Dick explained, passing the papers across the table to me, "you're no longer just a fantasy, Bambi. You're an official, fully documented citizen of the U.S., complete with passport, birth certificate, social security number, the works. We even got you a credit card and a driver's license."

I looked at the documents in amazement. It was true! Each of them had the name Bambi Desiree' Taylor on them, age eighteen, sex female, and some of them, like the passport, even had a picture of me with my wig and make-up on. The photographs had obviously been taken on that first day, the previous Saturday, when my ordeal had begun, for I could see the neckline of the first dress I'd ever worn at the bottom edge of the photos. Knowing where the pictures had come from, however, did little or nothing to explain how these documents had come into existence, and I gazed at Dick in speechless bewilderment, but he just smiled, revelling in my confusion.

"A friend of Mike's knows a guy who does fake I.D.s," Art explained. "They cost a pretty penny, but the best way to spend a pretty penny is on a pretty girl, right?"

The others agreed heartily, and then they all congratulated me on the gifts I'd received, taking pains to point out certain details I might've overlooked at first. My age, for example, was now over eighteen, hence my driver's license. That meant I could also buy liquor anywhere I wanted, and even places that always asked for I.D. would serve me without hesitation. I did look kind of young for eighteen, but I had "picture I.D.," and nobody questioned that, not even the police, without good cause. Besides, it was sometimes difficult to tell a girl's real age, as everyone knows. With those documents I not only looked like Bambi, I could prove I WAS Bambi and just holding them in my hand made me feel somehow safer and more secure in my new role.

I think there was a tear in my eye as I thanked the boys for their generosity, perhaps a tear of shame shed in the knowledge that I was even more firmly trapped in my female identity than ever, or perhaps a tear of joy at knowing they cared enough to want to protect me from accidental exposure. My emotions were all twisted at this point, and I really didn't know what I wanted or felt by then. Part of me was dying and screaming out in protest, but his voice was fading more and more every day, and the other part was newly born, fearful and innocent, but unjaded by past experience and ready to explore life, life as a female, for the first time.

"Don't thank us yet," Frank said, grinning widely.

"We're not done."

"There's more?" I asked in surprise.

"Did you really think we got you a driver's license just for the hell of it?" Dick said, taking my hand to help me out of my chair and lead me toward the door.

"I don't understand," I confessed. "Where are we going now?"

"Outside," he explained, and as I let him guide me downstairs and through the exit into the parking lot, the other guys followed close behind. There was a car parked in the space nearest my door, a brand new Camaro, which assumed to be my neighbor's, but as Dick led me toward the driver's side door, I noticed the license plate and gasped.

"'BAMBI'?" I read aloud, then turned to Dick in astonishment. "You didn't!"

"Yup," he admitted, handing me a set of keys. "We did. Go on, get in and start her up, sweetheart. She's all yours . "

I gaped at the car in disbelief, unable to accept that I owned it and could actually drive it if I wanted to. True, it was definitely a girl's car. The body paint was a bright pink with a delicate detailing of white swirls around the sides, and the interior was pink vinyl with plush pink seat covers featuring a design pattern of tiny hearts melting together. The stock stick shift had been replaced with a custom-made version that had a large pink heart mounted atop the stick, while a pair of pink velvet hearts, delicately stuffed and trimmed with lace, dangled from the rearview mirror.

It was the kind of car I wouldn't have been caught dead in not long ago for fear of being ridiculed by my macho friends, but things were not as they were, and looking the way I did, standing there in my sexy evening gown with my artificial breasts practically spilling out of their cups, it would've been silly to worry about my male pride at that point. Besides, this car was MINE! I owned it, and according to my driver's license, I could legally drive it! The fact that it was as feminine in appearance as I was hardly seemed to matter; it was MY CAR!

"You bought this!?" I said doubtfully. "For me!?"

"It took every last dime we had," Frank told me, "and a lot of laws got broken in the process, but it's all yours, Bambi, from all of us."

Not knowing what else to do, I gave each of them an appreciative kiss on the lips as well as a gushing "Thank you" or two, and then, unlocking the door, I slipped gracefully behind the wheel and tried it out for size. The seat was comfortable, and the stick shift seemed to fit my hand perfectly. Working the pedals with my high-heels on took some practice, but I got it down before too long. The guys piled in, Art beside me in the passenger seat and the rest in the back, and then I turned the key in the ignition, anxious to go for a test drive.

Being sixteen, I actually didn't know how to drive, and the guys, all of whom were older and more experienced than I, had to teach me as we went along. Art was the oldest and had been driving his father's pick-up truck around the apartments for years, so he became my primary driving instructor. I made a few blunders, but basically I was doing pretty well, until we got on the highway.

At first, everything was fine, but then Art started showing me how to work the tape deck, and I lost track of how fast we were going. Dick was just warning me slow down when a police siren sounded behind us, and I looked up in horror into the rearview mirror to see the flashing lights of a patrol car in pursuit! I panicked! What was I going to do!?

Art sensed my fear and placed his hand over mine on the steering wheel. "Don't worry, Bambi. Stay calm. Just pull over... That's it... Now stop... Turn off the engine... Good girl."

My manicured fingers were trembling as I rolled down my window and got my documentation ready, praying that wouldn't be discovered as a sixteen-year-old boy in a dress. The guys whispered encouragement to me, but as the legal driver and owner of the vehicle, according to the paperwork anyway, I was the one who'd have to face the police and deal with a speeding violation, and I was scared to death.

The officer was very polite and seemed to sense that I was terrified of him, so he spoke in a gentle, nonthreatenirg voice and moved very slowly as he took the documents I surrendered to him. He looked my license over carefully, then studied my face, and I had to look away as his bright flashlight blinded me. He glanced around the interior of the car, surprised and perhaps a bit amused to find four guys keeping me company. He probably assumed Art was my boyfriend, since he looked the oldest and was sitting in the front seat, and I doubt he suspected that all four passengers were my boyfriends, like some male harem, or drones attending their queen bee.

"All right, Miss Taylor," he said, handing back my paperwork with a friendly wink. "Try to keep it under fifty-five from now on, okay?"

Realizing that he wasn't giving me a ticket, I smiled at him gratefully and offered my thanks is a soft, timid voice. He tipped his cap to me politely, then waved and started back to his patrol car, saying, "Goodnight, Bambi. Goodnight, fellas. Have fun and be careful."

With a tremendous sigh of relief, I slumped back in my seat and took a moment to settle my nerves.

"I don't believe he let you go," Art said. "You were doing over seventy!"

"She's a girl," Dick explained. "You would've gotten a speeding ticket and so would any guy, but all Bambi has to do is blink her pretty eyes and smile, and the big macho cop just lets her go. After all, a cute little thing like Bambi wouldn't break the law on purpose, now would she?"

"He's right," Frank laughed. "The cop checked her out and could tell how sweet and innocent she was."

"And he probably had such a raging hard-on," Bob added, "that he couldn't think straight."

The boys all laughed at that, and I nodded in agreement, feeling certain that if I hadn't been dressed like a girl, I'd have definitely been cited for speeding.

"Good thing it wasn't a lady cop," I observed, and the guys laughed again.

"Or a gay cop," Art said, but the mention of the word "gay" brought the conversation uncomfortably near to a subject that none of us wanted to think about, and we all grew silent as I started the car and pulled back onto the highway.

Since that first night when they raped me, I'd suffered feelings of guilt and shame over my sexual involvement with other guys, but I didn't really have much choice in the matter, so I felt much more shame than guilt. For the others, however, they had forced themselves on me, and they were now much more sensitive to the label of "gay" or "homosexual" than I was. Perhaps that was why they tried so hard to make me look and behave as femininely as possible. Were they trying to turn me into a real girl to avoid the uneasy knowledge that they were forcing themselves on another boy? Was I coming to accept my role as a girl in order to avoid the same painful thoughts? If so, where would this lead in the end?

To celebrate my new car, and to relax after our encounter with the law, the boys suggested that I take them to a drive-in movie, and I couldn't very well refuse, so I took the next exit off the highway and headed for the open-air theater near the shopping mall.

If I thought the cop had looked amused when he saw me with four guys in my car, that look paled to insignificance beside the smirking grin on the face of the ticket attendant working at the kiosk beside the entry gate. He seemed to know without a doubt what we'd come there for and what those four guys would be doing to me before long, and the worst part of it was, he was right! I was just as sure as he was that my boyfriends intended to have sex with me in my car during the movie, but I doubt very much that he suspected my lack of options. He probably assumed, as I would've done in his place, that the blonde in the pink Camaro was a real nymphomaniac and planned on making it with four guys at once, and since she chose to do it in a drive-in theater, she must also be pretty kinky.

It's no wonder he winked at me and held onto my hand when he took the money from me, pausing a moment to admire my well manicured fingers. He might've even thought I was a hooker, and that realization had me blushing brightly as I drove on into the parking area.

Naturally, the boys insisted that we park near the back in an isolated corner, and although they did allow me to tune the radio to pick up the soundtrack being broadcast by the theater, I actually didn't get to see much of the film, since I spent most of the time in the back seat lying on my stomach or my back, legs spread, with one of the other guys on top of me, pumping away like crazy, making the car's shocks sigh in sympathy with each downward thrust. As each of them got his rocks off, the other three sat in the front seat watching the film or watching me get laid or both.

About halfway through the movie, I was in the back seat with Bob when the other guys offered to go to the snack bar for us. It was hard to place an order for refreshments with Bob plunged deep inside me, and he seemed equally distracted, but we finally told them what to get, and they left us to finish our coupling in private. Our privacy didn't last very long, however, for after a few more minutes I opened my eyes to look out the window at the starry sky, and much to my alarm someone was looking in at us from outside!

It was a boy of about my age, a former classmate from school, standing on his tiptoes with his hands shading his eyes from the glare of the movie screen as he gaped at our sexual antics in gleeful fascination. I gasped and grabbed Bob by the arm, but my boyfriend mistook my meaning for a sign of passion, and before I could speak he started riding me like a bucking bronco, driving himself in deeper and deeper each time. The boy watching us grinned wider as Bob got more enthusiastic, and he seemed to enjoy my inability to make myself understood. His laughing eyes met mine with a teasing "I see you" look that made me feel ashamed, and before I could try again to warn Bob that we were being watched, the boy chuckled to himself and ran off.

I had no fear that he'd prove a threat, even if he told someone what he'd seen, for he'd been standing at the side window and saw only Bob's back and me lying under him with my legs in the air. He surely assumed that I was a real girl, and judging by the look on his face, he'd probably be looking for an opportunity to do the same thing to a girlfriend of his own as soon as possible. In fact, I'm quite sure that he would've asked Bob for "sloppy seconds" if he'd thought there was one chance in a million of getting into my panties when my boyfriend was finished.

I never mentioned the boy to Bob or anyone, and I tried not to let the thought of that peeping tom upset me anymore, but that night, after my boyfriends and I had had a playful round of sex and laid huddled together in my bed, I drifted uneasily off to sleep and had a terrible nightmare in which my every move was observed, recorded and televised by satellite to a sickened yet fascinated America, and while commentators discussed the progress of my transformation from male to female, cameras zoomed in to portray my girlish body locked in sexual embrace with a male lover.

I woke once during the night, screaming and trembling, and my boyfriends did their best to comfort me and help me back to sleep, reminding me that I'd just been having a nightmare, but though I did manage to fall asleep once more, my dreams were haunted by the recurring image of a beautiful slavegirl chained to the statue of a gigantic erection, and each time I saw her she looked more and more like me.

SATURDAY AGAIN

I was the first one up the next morning, and I slipped quietly out of bed, trying not to disturb the guys. Putting on my silky robe and sandals, I went to the kitchen and started a fresh pot of coffee, knowing that my "guests" would all want some as soon as they woke up. While it was brewing, I washed the dishes from the night before, then went around the apartment straightening up.

The place was so different than when I'd first seen it. Then it had been dirty, neglected, used but not lived in, and it was obvious from the trash littering the floor, the beer stains on the rug and the cigar burns on the coffee table that the guys who partied there were real slobs. Now, however, it was almost another apartment entirely. It looked clean, cared for and lived in, and it was obvious from the nylons hanging on the shower curtain rod and the fashion magazines on the coffee table, as well as the stuffed animals and other carnival trinkets arranged neatly on the bookcase, that this was the apartment of a young woman.

As I passed by the hall mirror, I was reminded that the apartment wasn't the only thing that had changed radically since last weekend. Even without my wig and make-up on, I now looked totally female and exceptionally pretty. My hands and feet looked delicate and dainty with their polished nails, and my earlobes still sported the large silver hoops I'd been wearing the night before. My body was relatively smooth and hairless, although I'd probably need to use that depilatory cream again soon, and the flesh-like garment with the twin breasts offered convincing proof that I was indeed a pretty girl under that see-through robe. Only the items dangling between my legs contradicted the image of femininity I presented, even to my own eyes.

And the change went much deeper than just the skin, for my mind had also been transformed, until I found myself thinking thoughts that would normally be found only in the mind of a teenage girl. It was hard to believe, but in less than a week the boy I once was had been virtually destroyed, 9 and in his place stood a voluptuous girl named Bambi.

With a shudder of worry, I wondered just how long the transformation would last. Weeks? Months? Years!?? And when it was finally over, would I really be able to reclaim my old identity? I'd been a girl for less than a week, and I'd already changed more than I would've thought possible. What would I be like if I continued to be Bambi for any length of time? Would there be anything left of the person I was before, or would I eventually come to think of myself only as Bambi, a pretty female, and nothing more? I made breakfast for the guys when they emerged from the bedroom, one after the other, and I tried to act pleasant as I served them coffee and kissed them good morning, but inside my head those questions kept coming around, again and again, like wooden horses on a carousel, and I couldn't dismiss them, for I had no real answers. When the guys were all served and satisfied, I sat down with them to have some toast and coffee, and as I ate they revealed that they had yet another surprise planned for me that day. No matter how I pleaded, they wouldn't even give me a hint of what it was all about, saying I'd simply have to wait and see.

I did the breakfast dishes while the guys got dressed, and then they helped me to pick out what I'd be wearing that day. They chose a loose-fitting, see-through blouse of gray silk and a flaring red skirt, which I put on over a lacy pair of red panties. The outfit was completed with slate-colored pantyhose and red leather pumps, and once I had my wig, make-up and jewelry on, I was ready to leave.

When I asked why I wasn't given a bra to wear, the guys exchanged knowing smiles, but said nothing. I felt very nervous about parading around outside with my breasts so visible, even if they were fake, and as we piled into my pink Camaro I realized that I'd better not get pulled over for any traffic violations in that see- through blouse, or I might get arrested for exposing myself too ludely in public.

I drove us all downtown without incident and turned into the college parking lot on Dick's instructions. Then the guys led me around the dormitories to the health center, a single-story building in the middle of the main campus. The front entrance was open, and a few people were working in the reception area, but most of the building was shut down for the weekend. The offices and examining rooms looked dark and deserted through the windows as we walked around the side of the building to the rear entrance.

The door near the loading dock was locked, and a sign declared that admittance was restricted to authorized personnel only, but my escorts never hesitated, walking straight up to the door and knocking loudly. I tried asking Bob in a whisper what was going on, but he pretended not to hear me.

After a half a minute or more, the door lock clicked from the inside, and the rear entrance swung open to reveal a young man in a white jacket, not a doctor, but an intern, a recent medical school graduate working at the health center as an emergency room attendant. He looked us all over carefully, taking a little extra time to study my girlish physique, and then he held out his hand to Dick.

"I'm Harry," he said. "You must be Mike's friend."

"Dick," the younger man replied, accepting the offered handshake. "This is Art, Frank and Bob... and of course Bambi."

The intern's eyes swept over me again, and he smiled.

"Pleased to meet you, Bambi. I've heard a lot about you."

I wondered what it was he'd heard. Had Mike mentioned me and our sexual encounter last week? Had Harry heard about my performance in the softball dugout on Sunday? Or had Shelly gone around spreading the word that Bambi was a slut dating four guys at once? Whatever it was that this guy thought he knew about me, it made him grin like a hungry tiger, which made me quite nervous.

He ushered us in and carefully locked the door behind us before leading the way down one corridor after another until we finally reached a small room marked "EMER SURG UNIT" and went inside. It was a tiny operating room, complete with all the lights, instruments and gadgetry of a standard surgical theater, but intended for emergency use only. The sight of all those machines surrounding the operating table and the tray of shiny metallic instruments beside it made me feel a little faint, and I tried again to ask discreetly what was going on, but no one would answer me.

Harry spent a little time preparing materials on the counter near the door, then he turned to me and smiled wolfishly. "Okay, beautiful, take your blouse off."

I hesitated a moment, feeling bashful, but then remembered how much of my artificial breasts he could already see through my revealing blouse, and modesty seemed foolish. Acting shy would also seem out of character for a girl who'd dress the way I was dressed, and I didn't want Harry to suspect anything, so I tried to act nonchalant as I casually pulled the lightweight garment over my head to expose my twin prominences for full inspection.

And inspection is exactly what they got. Harry had me sit on the table before him while the other guys looked on, and he proceeded to examine my imitation boobs with great interest. I glanced at my boyfriends nervously, wondering why they were putting me through this, but the only response I got was a reassuring wink from Dick.

For a while it seemed as if Harry was fooled by the mounds on my chest, as I'd hoped he would be, but then to my amazement he took a scalpel from the instrument tray and proceeded to cut the fleshtone garment up the middle. The fingers of his free hand had found the bottom edge of the skin-like material and carefully lifted it away from my midriff as the scalpel sliced cleanly through the fabric. It continued to cut, passing between the fleshy mounds and right up to the neckline, and before I could move or speak the feminizing garment had been peeled back to reveal my hairless, boyish chest.

I was sure that Harry knew then that I wasn't a real girl, but he surprised me again by commenting on how silly girls are and the drastic lengths they go to just to look attractive to men. I couldn't hide my embarrassment as he helped me finish removing the fleshtone garment, but rather than suspecting the truth, he seemed to think that I was merely a flat-chested girl wearing falsies, and that was something of a relief. I couldn't be certain what he really believed, of course, since there might very well be a few more surprises ahead of me before they let me out of that operating room, but I had to hope that Harry didn't know the whole story and thought I was really a girl, and fortunately he didn't do or say anything to contradict that assumption.

Once the breast-vest had been removed, Harry concentrated on studying my real chest with even more intensity, looking closely at both my male nipples and even poking them a few times to observe their reactions to stimulation. I hoped their was no evidence of maleness to be seen, and he didn't seem suspicious in the least when he looked up and asked me if I was ashamed of my breasts. Not knowing what else to say, I stammered out that they were kind of small for a girl my age.

Then he asked me if I was bleeding regularly. I was nonplused for a moment and just sat there looking confused, and then it hit me... menstruation! He was asking me if I was getting my monthly period on schedule! He seemed to be serious, and unless he was teasing me, his question confirmed my belief that he had no knowledge of my true sex, which I found somewhat comforting.

Before I could invent an answer to his inquiry, Dick volunteered the information, telling the intern that I rarely bled at all, and when I did it was more like the flow produced by a girl of twelve than a mature woman. Harry nodded, and it seemed that Dick had told him just what he wanted to hear. He conducted one more close inspection of my chest, cupping my boyish pectorals in his hands and lifting them to test their resilience, momentarily molding my chest into twin mounds of flesh uncomfortably resembling female breasts.

The blood test he wanted to give me required only a pinprick on my index finger, and I hardly winced at all as he jabbed me with the pin and smeared a drop of my blood onto a waiting microscope slide. He seemed impressed. "You're a brave girl, Bambi," he told me. "A lot of the coeds faint at the sight of blood, even the nursing students."

Harry left then to do some tests in the laboratory, and I thought I might have a chance to ask my boyfriends what was going on, but unfortunately they went with him and ordered me to wait, so I just sat there on the operating table half-dressed, trying to imagine what they were planning, but all I could come up with were ideas so wild that they couldn't possibly be true... except, it turns out, one of them was!

I waited for nearly half an hour and was getting worried when Harry finally returned with the guys. He had a few documents in his hand, apparently the results of my blood tests, and he discussed them with me at length, but I honestly couldn't understand half of what he was saying. At one point he mentioned that my female hormone count was very low, while my testosterone levels were unacceptably high, and I couldn't figure out what he meant.

I learned much later that the only reason I had any significant amount of female hormones in my system at all was because I'd been taking birth control pills for a few days. Otherwise, my blood tests would've proven without a doubt that I was male. As it was, the intern interpreted my condition as that of a female with a hormone dysfunction. None of this was known to me at the time, however, and most of what he said sounded like nonsense.

He concluded by explaining that he would first deal with my hormone imbalance, and once that was corrected my metabolism should undergo normal developmental stages. I had no idea what that meant, but when I saw the large hypodermic needle he intended to stab me with, I got nervous. I looked to my boyfriends for support, but they urged me to be quiet and let Harry handle everything, so I reluctantly lowered my pantyhose and raised my skirt to allow Harry access to my girlish bottom. I thought of jumping off the table and running half-dressed down the corridor as the needle moved slowly toward my rear, but escape was still impossible, so I could do nothing but submit to whatever it was that Harry was doing to me.

After throwing away the hypodermic needle, Harry had me lie down on the table under the bright lights. He explained that it would be a long time before the shot produced any noticeable changes, but in the meantime he had a solution to my problem, "much better than wearing that thing," he said, pointing to the breast-vest with a look of contempt. I wanted to ask him what he was talking about, but before I could speak a breathing mask was placed over my mouth, and I smelled a sickeningly sweet vapor being pumped into my lungs. The room started to spin around like a gyrating top, and Harry's voice seemed to come from very far away.

"I decided to use gas and a local anesthetic," he was saying, "so you can watch the procedure, in case you're interested. If not, you can just look away."

He propped my head up on a firm pillow so that I could see myself lying before him and observe what he was doing.

The gas made me feel light-headed and giddy, and although I could still see and hear and understand what was going on, I couldn't organize my thoughts enough to move or even try to talk. With a growing sense of detachment, as if it were happening to someone else, I just relaxed and watched Harry painstakingly wash his hands and slip on surgical gloves.

Once the local anesthetic had been administered, Harry painted a rectangular area below my right nipple with a yellowish foam, and then the scalpel was brought to bear against my flesh to make a single, neat incision right through the center of the yellow rectangle. Blood streamed out of the wound, but I felt no pain, or any sensations at all near my chest, and moments later Harry had the bleeding under control. .

His gloves colored bright red at the fingertips he produced a clear, globular mass, like a trembling bail of gelatin dessert, from a special container on the instrument tray, then carefully parted the incision in my chest, lifting the top edge like a flap, and inserted the globe under my skin directly below my boyish nipple! Once the globe was correctly positioned, however, my nipple no longer looked the least bit boyish! It was stretched, making it seem much larger, and it sat atop a perfect hemisphere of flesh, pointing skyward like the aroused tip of a real female breast!

In fact, the breast Harry had created on my chest looked so real that the only thing that marred its appearance was the obvious lack of a twin companion alongside it, but that imperfection was soon addressed, for as soon as he had stitched up the first incision, imprisoning that gelatinous globe under my skin, he cut an identical slice below my other nipple and similarly transforming that pectoral into a girl's breast as well. When the last stitch was sewn, Harry paused to smile down at the twin mounds now rising from my chest, real mounds of real flesh, MY flesh, MY breasts! I couldn't simply take them off, as I could the feminizing fleshtone garment! They were there to stay!!

I was in a daze as Harry cleaned up the suture marks, covering each with a fleshtone band-aid, and then pronounced the operation a total success. My arms hung at my sides like rags as I sat up and let the guys help me get dressed again, and when they eased me off the table, my knees wouldn't hold me up, so Art had to take me in his arms like a child and carry me back the way we'd come. Harry unlocked the back door again to let us out, then smiled at me, his eyes scanning the curves of my breasts in their see- through covering.

"No reason to be ashamed anymore, Bambi," he assured me. "Now you've got one knock-out set of knockers."

He went on to explain that once my natural development began, I might want to have the implants removed or reduced in size, if my breasts were to grow too large for my liking.

"Well," Dick said finally, shaking Harry's hand again, "thanks for everything, Harry."

"Thank YOU," Harry insisted. "I can always use an extra thousand bucks. Let me know if you've got any more 'boards' who want to be 'broads;' I'll make them all look like Dolly Parton."

"Will do," Dick smiled. "Tell Mike we said 'Hi'."

He stood in the door and waved to us as we went back toward the front of the building, and I could hear the lock slam back into place when we turned the corner. I was still too groggy from the anesthesia to formulate any kind of intelligent response to what had just happened, so I just hung onto to Art's neck and let him carry me to the car.

I was in no shape to drive, so Dick got behind the wheel with Frank next to him, while Bob and Art sat in the back with me sandwiched between them. In that position I found it impossible to do anything except stare down at my new breasts in bewilderment. They looked just like the false pair I'd worn since Monday, except perhaps more pert and bouncy, more alive. Indeed, they were alive! They were real! As the anesthetic wore off and my thoughts began to clear, the significance of that fact grew to unbearable proportions. They had really done it to me! The sneaky bastards had actually changed part of my anatomy to give me real breasts! Now I not only looked a girl, I had permanent female secondary sexual characteristics as well, and without another operation, there was no way to get rid of them!

Tears flowed down my cheeks as I sat there gazing in growing horror at the mountainous globes beneath my blouse.

Art noticed that I was crying and tried his best to cheer me up, but I refused to listen to him or any of the others. I virtually ignored them as they helped me out of the car, and when Art offered to carry me upstairs, I pushed him away with an angry shove and minced past him, staggering a little in my high heels, but able to walk under my own steam again.

Inside my apartment, they wasted no time in stripping me down, slipping a babydoll nightie over my head and putting me to bed. With my back propped up against the pillows I just sat there staring at my boobs, quite visible through the diaphanous pink material, unable to find words to express my utter shock and dismay. The guys sat around me on the mattress, watching me for a long time in silence, and then Dick finally spoke.

"I guess we owe you an apology," he said softly. "We should've told you what we were planning, but we were afraid you'd refuse."

"You're damn right I would!" I screamed, sounding very much like a hysterical girl. I grabbed my new breasts with both hands and lifted them, noting some pain, which meant that the local anesthesia was wearing off. "Look at these! Look what you've done to me! I'm deformed!!"

"You're gorgeous!" Art argued.

"Totally," Bob agreed.

"For a girl," I objected, "but I'm not a girl! Can't you guys get that through your thick skulls? I'm not a girl!!"

They exchanged nervous glances and then looked away, as though they were reluctant to meet my gaze.

"We, uh..." Dick started. "We wanted to talk to you about that. We've been thinking it over and... well, basically, what we've decided is... well..."

Somehow I sensed that this was no ordinary decision they'd made, and my nerves were on edge as I waited impatiently for him to finish his announcement. He glanced at the other three guys for support, then said it.

"We want you to be a real girl."

The meaning of his words took a moment to sink in, and then my jaw dropped as my eyes went wide with surprise. No, they couldn't mean that! Not THAT!

"We still owe Mike a thousand bucks for the breast implants," Dick continued, gathering steam, "but as soon as that's paid off, we plan to start saving up for the operation, the big operation, the one that'll make you female forever."

They did mean THAT!! Good Lord!! They were serious, too! There would be obstacles in their path, I could see that already, but unless I found a way to stop them, they were planning to castrate me and put a vagina between my legs, and judging by their past successes, they'd probably do it!!

I tried to imagine what it might be like, to be really female, not just in appearance, but in every way, right down to the primary sex organ! The thought of having my genitalia turned inside out made me shudder, and knowing that I was permanently trapped in the role of a girl would be even worse!

How could they even think such a thing? But of course I already knew the answer to that. They wanted me sexually, couldn't resist me, even if it meant their behavior might be called "gay" or "perverse" by others, but if they could use me in bed like a real girl with a real pussy, then all the stigmata would vanish. I could never be exposed accidentally, their egos would be bolstered and their reputations would be safe. As far as the world was concerned, I'd be female, and any male who mated with me would be involved in a strictly heterosexual act. For them it was the perfect solution, but for me it was a one-way ticket to life as a girl!!

"You can't be serious!" I said, shaking my head. "You want me to become your permanent slavegirl!?"

"No," Dick objected, "not at all. you see, there's more. We also decided, and it was totally unanimous, that we... well, we..."

"We what?" I asked.

"We love you, Bambi."

At that, each of them reached out to me, 80b taking my right hand, Dick my left, Frank grasping my right ankle, Art taking the left. Their eyes glimmered with sincerity and deep affection, and I suddenly felt all choked up. Never before in my life had anyone ever looked at me that way, and somehow it made me feel alive for the first time. They really did love me! In fact, they were devoted to me! Somehow that made everything different.

"We love you," Art repeated, "and we want to marry you, all of us!"

"MARRY!?" I gasped. "ME!?"

They nodded solemnly. This was no joke! I tried to imagine myself in a wedding dress, marching down the aisle to meet my future husband, one of these four young men, and from that day onward I would be his wife, a man's wife!! It was too much! It could never happen, and yet, apparently, all I had to do was say "yes" to one of them, and it would be true! I'd be a married woman, Mrs. Bambi... what? Pierce? Lindon? Dent? Rohmer? If I did marry one of them, which one would I choose? It'd be a hard decision to make, I realized. Each of them had his strong points, and they all seemed to love me deeply. Which one would I prefer as a husband? I didn't know, and I found it hard to believe T was actually trying to make up my mind about something like that! It was crazy!

"I couldn't marry any of you," I admitted. "First of all, I'd never be able to choose among you."

"You don't have to," Bob explained. "When Art said we all want to marry you, he meant we want you to marry all four of us."

"It wouldn't be a typical marriage," Dick added. "We'd perform the ceremony ourselves and get some fake documentation from Mike's friend, but it would be legal, as far as the paperwork goes, and it would be real, if we all keep our vows."

"We want to spend the rest of our lives with you, Bambi," Art said, "and we all love you so much that we're willing to share you."

"Lots of girls get married more than once," Bob smiled, "but you get to say "yes" to four guys at the same time."

"We'll take good care of you, Bambi," Frank added, "and that's a promise."

I didn't know what to say. They just sat there looking at me, waiting for me to respond, but I had no response to offer. My mind was like a wasteland, too ravaged by recent cataclysmic events to produce anything but ashes blown by a cold wind. They waited patiently, but when it became obvious that I had nothing to say, they each climbed off the mattress and knelt beside me on one knee, and my hands were soon clutched tightly in theirs, my girlish fingers wrapped in a twin cocoons of male hands.

"Marry us," Dick said, speaking for them all. "Please, Bambi."

Everything was happening too fast- I wasn't sure how to react. Part of my thoughts let loose with a scream of protest, demanding my former identity back, refusing to go one step further in their plans to feminize me, but after its initial outburst, that voice faded into silence, as if it had exhausted itself entirely in that final cry of rebellion, and all that remained was Bambi.

Killing with kindness, they had exterminated the last remnant of my old self, and as I came to the inevitable realization that I simply had no choice, I felt strangely excited by the life that awaited me. In a short time I'd be a married woman four times over, and soon after that I'd be a real female!

It was like letting go of the last shreds of a torn parachute and going into freefall, like looking a hungry lion square in the eyes or laughing in the face of the executioner. Accepting the unavoidable outcome caused a sudden release of tension, and the instant I decided to give in to them and become their wife, I knew it was the right thing to do. My old life was lost beyond retrieval, and I had no choice but to step into Bambi's high- heeled shoes for good. Taylor Stark was gone, and I would Bambi forever.

"Yes," I whispered, so softly that they didn't hear me at first, and I had to repeat it. "Yes, I'll marry you."

They stared at me in disbelief, overjoyed to finally hear me say the words they wanted to hear so badly, and for a moment no one moved or spoke. Then the four of them jumped to their feet with a chorus of yells that shook the building, and they started to prance around the bed like farmers at a square dance.

"She said Yes'! She said Yes'!"

They were just starting to settle down when I finally caught their attention, and wearing a deep pout on my pink lips, I scolded them like children.

"Well, don't just stand there, fellas," I said, holding out my arms to embrace them. "Come over here and give your bride-to-be some sugar."

As I expected, I got more than just a kiss.

EPILOGUE

It was Christmas Day, and I was once again lying in bed dressed only in a babydoll nightie, recovering from an operation, this time a much more serious one. After my breast implant surgery, my boobs were a little tender and sore for almost a week, but it was more a matter of discomfort and mild pain than anything else. This time, however, I'd been bedridden for more than a week, and the pain and discomfort I'd endured were many times greater. Like the first operation, however, the incisions healed, the scars faded, and I recovered to find myself a somewhat different person than I was.

It took a long time to get used to the breasts on my chest, even after the soreness was gone, for they were so large and so sensitive, they constantly demanded my attention, no matter what I was doing. I'd be talking on the phone, and the cord would brush against them; I'd look down to see my feet, and they'd be in the way; I'd adjust my blouse, and feel the fabric on my nipples through my bra... They were so new and different and incredibly erotic that I just couldn't get them off my mind, especially when the boys were around. As soon as one of them would get tired of feeling me up, another would start, so I was kept in a constant state of arousal, even as my male organs began to shrink into insignificance from the bombardment of female hormones.

The injection Harry had given me pumped up my hips and bottom to outrageously female proportions, and my breasts had also grown until they were quite a bit larger than average for a girl my size, but there was no talk of removing the breast implants... the guys liked my boobs big, so I just let them grow and kept buying new bras with larger cup sizes.

They also liked long hair on girls, so I let mine grow and died it blonde, and then one day my real tresses were long enough to style, and I no longer needed the wig at all. My own hair was kept in various styles after that, from beehive to ponytail to simple shaggydog, but no matter which way I wore it, it always looked decidedly feminine, and the guys loved to touch it and run their fingers through its silky softness.

My engagement to my four fiancees lasted a bit longer than they'd planned, but when it finally happened, the Wedding was an absolutely splendid affair. By then I'd made few girlfriends at my new job waiting tables at the steak house downtown, and some of them agreed to be my bridesmaids during the ceremony, though they couldn't get over the fact that I had four grooms waiting for me when I walked down the aisle.

A Navy captain, another friend of Mike's, performed the ceremony, and it was the merest technicality that the whole thing wasn't exactly legal, since we had documents to prove that it was. On that day I became Mrs. Bambi Taylor-Pierce-Lindon-Dent-Rohmer, and everyone said I made a beautiful bride. From the moment the four of them carried me over the threshold of my apartment until the minute that our honeymoon weekend was over, we spent the entire time in bed together, and it was memorable.

Soon after that I learned they had actually arranged for "the operation" to take place in a hospital in "the city." How the guys had managed it, I wasn't sure, but that's the way it always was with us. They told me only what they wanted me to know and protected me from certain knowledge, and I did what a good wife should and obeyed her husband, or in my case, husbands.

I obediently drove us to the hospital the day before my surgery was scheduled, and I went through all the tests and preparations without a whisper of complaint. The doctor, a woman in her fifties, told me I was a "good girl," or soon would be, and the next morning they wheeled me under the bright lights of the operating theater.

During my recovery, the boys were with me constantly, first at the hospital and then at home. Each weekday, one of them would take off from work to stay with me, and the rest of the time we were all together. It was difficult for me at first. I kept having recriminations, pangs of doubt, guilt and fear. why had I let them do this to me? They'd taken away my bat and balls and replaced them with a dugout, and now I was a girl, especially where it counted, between my legs, and like it or not I'd stay female for the rest of my life.

The first time they helped me into the bathroom to urinate, the fact that I had to sit down pressed home the point that I would never stand before a toilet or urinal again, and I ended up crying myself to sleep when they put me back to bed. Through it all, the boys were unfailingly patient and understanding, which was the only thing that made it all bearable for me.

Yet time, they say, heals all wounds, and as my physical recovery progressed, so did my mental adjustment, until shortly before Christmas, I decided to give my husbands a wonderful surprise. The doctor had told me long before, and recently confirmed, exactly when my new orifice would be fully functional, but I had slyly withheld that information from the guys. When they asked, I suggested that it might still be a long time before I was ready, and they accepted that without question or complaint, which set them up perfectly for the surprise I had in mind.

I'd already made my preparations while the guys were in the living room watching football, and they never suspected a thing, believing me to be reading a romance novel in bed before retiring for the night. When I heard the halftime announcement on the television, I asked them all to join me in the bedroom, and from the tone in my voice they could tell that something was up, but they still didn't suspect the truth. They came in and sat beside me, just as they had more than six months earlier on the day they proposed to me, the same day they'd cunningly forced a pair of real breasts on me, but now it was my turn to surprise them.

Earlier that day, I'd opened all my Christmas presents from the guys, a collection of decidedly feminine gifts, to be sure, like sexy nightgowns, perfume, jewelry and make-up, as well as additions to my daily wardrobe, all skirts and dresses, of course. I still wasn't allowed to wear pants of any kind, but that no longer bothered me.

Pretending to be upset, I told the guys that I hadn't been able to get them any gifts for Christmas, since I was still supposed to stay in bed as much as possible, and they immediately dismissed my apology and told me not to worry my pretty head about it, saying, "You're all we wanted for Christmas anyway."

But now it was time to let them in on my little secret.

"What is it, Bambi?" Dick asked, slightly concerned.

"I forgot to tell you guys," I said, trying to hide my smile. "I do have something to give you for Christmas."

They exchanged curious glances, puzzled and intrigued.

"What is it?" Art asked.

By way of reply, I lifted my knees and spread them wide, revealing the large pink ribbon tied around my hips with a large bow directly over my crotch. I'd taken my time and done a good job, and now I was all wrapped up like a gift waiting to be opened. The boys just sat there gaping at the little patch of pubic hair barely visible at the top of the bow, shocked by the realization that all my bandages were gone, and I was naked under that band of pink ribbon.

"Well" I sighed petulantly, "aren't you going to unwrap it?"

Grinning like kids at the circus, each of the guys grabbed an end of the ribbon and pulled, and as the bow unraveled their eyes lit up at the sight of a perfectly formed pussy between my legs. The lips were dark pink and slightly pouting, as if puckering up for a kiss, and a kiss is exactly what they got, first from Dick, then Art, then Frank and finally Bob. They examined, touched, smelled and tasted the female orifice for a long time before getting down to business, but once we got started in earnest the bed springs got virtually no rest that night. Needless to say my husbands never did see the second half of that football game, but I really don't think they minded that much.

And so it was that on Christmas Day, less than six months after I first answered to name of Bambi, I consummated my marriage to the Four Musketeers and became a complete woman, body and soul, inside and out, for better or worse, and from that day until this I think I've been the luckiest, happiest, most contented girl who ever lived, for this little bundle of "sugar and spice and everything nice" wouldn't go back to being "snakes and snails and puppy dogs' tails" for all the diamonds in Africa, even if diamonds are a girl's best friend. I never thought I'd hear myself say this, but I'm a happily married woman with four wonderful husbands, and I wouldn't change a thing. I am what I am and that's all that I am, and what I am is a girl.

And my name is Bambi.

--THE END--