GO NO FURTHER!!! DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU ARE A MINOR, OR ARE EASILY OFFENDED BY EROTIC SUBJECT MATTER.
DIARY Copyright Seteyan All Rights Reserved.
I saw her as soon as I came into the dining room of the hotel, and
unconsciously sat a table where I could see her clearly. She was
lovely, a six foot tall blonde goddess, late thirties, with sharp
Germanic features, and a short masculine hairstyle. The reason I
noticed her though was her clothes, she was dressed in a shockingly
tight grey sweater dress, cashmere i think, that went up from her
booted calves to the edge of her chin, ending in a slim turtleneck.
On top of that she was wearing a cropped angora cardigan, also grey
but lighter, that barely covered her large breasts. It was,
unfortunately for me, a vision straight from my dreams. I ate my
dinner transfixed, not tasting the food, just staring at her. I think
she was sitting with another woman, younger, and an Asian man, but I
would not have noticed. Over coffee I took out my pocket diary and
tried to sketch her, to capture her beauty, but my days as an aspiring
artist were long past. I am obsessed with sweaters and there was some
sort of trigger effect when I saw her: my heart beat faster, my pants
were suddenly tight, my hands felt sweaty. I started instead to write
down how I felt, to write another one of my elaborate fantasies, only
this time starring her.
If I could have talked to her, I would have, but I became too wrapped
up in my private fantasies to overcome my shyness. So there I sat, in
the emptying restaurant, feverishly scribbling erotic thoughts to
myself, imagining those sweaters around me, on me - when I looked up -
and noticed her staring at me. I blushed violently, and stood up from
the table, spilling coffee across my pants. It was so embarassing, I
dropped my diary on the table and started dabbing at my pants, not
daring to look up again. She would be looking, I knew she would.
Finally I walked to the men's room, as calmly as possible, to try and
regain my composure.
When I returned a few minutes later, my hands were no longer shaking.
I was almost dissapointed to see her table was empty. Ah well - too
bad. I went to pay my bill, waiting for me on my small empty table,
when I realized with a shock - my diary was gone. I stared around the
table, looked on the floor. Nothing. Only a hotel key left next to my
coffee cup. And it wasn't my key.
I got on the elevator like a zombie. What did it mean, had she taken
my diary, and left the key to tell me? Had she read the diary already?
The notes and stories in the diary were so intensely personal, I
turned red on the elevator just thinking about it. Maybe it was a coy
invitation. I doubted it.
I reached her room, 1204, three flights above my own. I knocked
hesitantly, thinking only that I had to get the diary back.
A voice said, "Come in." I tried the knob, noticed my hand was
shaking. "Use the key", said the voice, a deep feminine voice. So I
let myself in.
The room was dark, and I remmeber smelling the pervasive scent of
perfume and clothes and women. She was sitting in a high backed
chair, READING MY DIARY. I tried to swallow, unsuccessfully.
She said, "I suppose you want this back?" I nodded. She smiled. "What
you have written about me is...", she trailed off, shaking her head. I
tried to say something, that I was sorry. "And now you have let
yourself into my room, what am I to think?"
I stared about wildly. She laughed, but it was a cold laugh, cruel.
"Relax", she said, "I only want to see if all of this is true, I mean
what would happen if you put one of my sweaters on?"
The words hung inthe air. I swallowed again; suddenly it was so hot in
her room I thought I might faint.
"Put this on", she said, and held up a sweater, mohair I think, a knit
turleneck, with a soft fuzz around the edges. It was pink. "Put it
on," she said, "and then you can go."
She tossed it at me,and I caught it. Like a sleep walker, I pulled the
soft wool sweater up over my head, down over my polo shirt. I felt
the fabric caress my bare arms, I smelled the deep smell of wool and
felt - woozy.
She smiled at me as I emerged from the thick neck of pink wool. I
wondered if the room was spinning from having realized this secret
fantasy.
She said, "Sit down." And I did,on the edge of the bed. "You like it,
I can tell," she whispered, "and I think you would do anything to stay
in that sweater, to look like me." And she pushed her breasts forward,
straining the fabric of her sweater dress. I stared at her, the room
went out of focus around her. She said, "Why don't you pull the neck
of that sweater up around your face?"
And it sounded so logical, like the perfect escape. I unrolled the
soft wool up over my hairless chin, it stretched up to just below my
eyes. She smiled again. The wool smelled strange, as it covered my
mouth and nose, it smelled sweet, like a chemical. I stared at her, my
temptress, and her grin grew wider and wider.
And then I lost consciousness.
When I awoke, I knew I had been drugged, I knew it with the certainty
that you have after a violent nightmare. There had been chloroform on
the sweater - and now where was I - a dark room - the hotel - where?
I sat up and edged my way to the corner of the bed. I felt strange,
something about the clothes I was wearing - and then the lights went
on - I looked at down at myself: I was a WOMAN! Huge breasts
stretched at a fuzzy grey sweater, my legs (hairless they looked like
someone else's legs) were wrapped in strange fishnet stockings, and my
feet were jammed into cruel looking high heels, four inch heels, with
tiny locks at the ankles. I took all this in at a glance, then looked
up at the woman in the door - the Blonde - wearing what looked like a
rubber catsuit, smiling at me cruelly, waving my diary in lazy circles
in the air.
She said, "This is a lot like a story I have been reading." She
flipped through the pages of my most intimate secrets. "Would you like
to hear it?"
I stood up suddenly, too suddenly, and went down on one knee, my head spinning. My heavy breathing caused the breasts on my chest to rise and fall, under the cool grey sweater. I stared at them distractedly, as I heard her laughter again, that cold, cruel laughter - and then there was a flash of light. Flashbulbs going off inmy head, was I blacking out again? I peered up at her uncertainly. Next to her was a smiling asian woman, the woman from her table at dinner. She was pointing a small camera at me, giggling as she took picture after picture. I looked up at the both of them incredously. Another flash. I stared at the Asian woman's bizarre red sweater dress. It was tight and long, almost to the floor.
The blonde yanked me to my feet suddenly, steadying me on the four inch heels. She barked at me to stand still, and then smiled for the camera. By the time the white lights stopped bouncing around inside my head the Asian woman was gone. The blonde pushed me away from her, and I fell back on the bed, a heap of stockinged legs and grey angora.
"First you come into my room, you write sordid things about me, then you try on my clothes, what should I do with you Mr. Aranson?" She asked this question in the same cruel mocking tone. At the sound of my name my body stiffened. She continued. "We know who you are MR. Aranson, we retrieved your bags moments ago, and normally we would already be finished, but you interest us."
My head cleared somewhat on hearing my name. "Let me go", I croaked, but all I got was another cold smile. She moved closer to me on the bed, then very slowly lowered herself on top of me. I could smell the rubber and sweat from her formfitting catsuit. Her knees were on either side of my stockinged legs, her hands at my shoulders. Her smile was inches from my ear. "Close your eyes,"she said, "and feel my skin." And I did, I ran my hand over her reptilian curves. "Now touch yourself ," she said. And I did. I felt the soft, fuzzy edges of my own curves.. Somewhere under these female clothes my desire stirred. She whispered in my ear, "You can leave right now Mr. Aranson." Her handcrept down over the grey sweater, down and under the edge of it, and pressed lightly against my manhood. I shuddered with fear. "Tell me you want to go Mr. Aranson and I will help you to the door." She touched me again, as I ran my hands feverishly over the taut rubber stretched over her breasts. I shook my head. "Please", I said,but it was barely audible. "Or how would you like to feel like me?" Her lips caressed my ears. "How would you like to wear my clothes, to dress in something like that grey dress I was wearing earlier?"
My throat felt dry. Her voice was so close to me, inside of me. "Say you want to stay." I nodded, involuntarily. "Say you want to wear my clothes, to feel like me." I nodded again, my head pounding. "Say it." And I did. I said everything she wanted to hear. I heard my voice say those things and it was like listening to a stranger. She finally stood up, releasing me. My thighs felt slick with desire. "Take off those clothes and go bathe. Yuki will help you. Do everything she says or the pictures and your naked ass will be delivered to the authorities.'" I stood up meekly, still tottering on the heels, and very slowly made my way into the bathroom.
I undressed slowly, as if it was a dream, and Yuki appeared to free me from the locked high heels and the unfamiliar brassiere. Her pointed breasts were cupped in a latex bikini, and I shuddered with desire all over again. All in all it was terribly unfair. They knew evrything there was to know about my obsessive fantasies, they knew my history with women's clothes and sweaters. They could push all of my buttons without thinking twice. I ruminated on much of this as Yuki scrubbed my nearly hairless body clean, then shaved what was left from my legs and chest, my underarms and pubic hair. Something burned in the shaving cream she used, and I was forced to grip the shower rail while she finished. Then she pulled a straight razor, and shaved my face clean and my sideburns, and then started on my head. I panicked for an instant, and in a flash Yuki had the blade of the straight razor poised over my penis. She smiled crookedly, shaking her head, and completed the haircut. My eyebrows were the last to go, shaved down to a bare minimum. Then Yuki forced me back into the hot steaming water, and I emerged more naked then I had ever felt in my entire life.
She toweled me roughly, and then led me into the adjoining room. I knew I was still in the hotel now, although this suite was much larger than my own. For an instant my mind screamed escape, but when I saw the clothes laid out onthe bed, my weak will collapsed. It was simple pile of lingerie, and lycra, topped by a strange bra and sweater, but the very sight of them cut my resolve in two. Yuki pulled the lycra girdle around my waist, and up to my chest, and I felt it squeeze me in a million places, compacting my male body into a rough simulation of feminity. The huge brassiere was next, a black satin job with enormous cups and broad straps. The girdle attached to two latex stockings, the top edge of the girdle stretching down like a miniskirt and clamping on to the talcum laced rubber. I stretched unfamiliarly. Yuki dissapeared for a second and I caught a glimpse of myself in the bathroom door mirror, a strange flat chested, hairless eunich, somewhere between two sexes. And then Yuki returned, slipping huge breast forms down the front of my brassiere, at least a 38D. I felt top heavy, but all questions of sexlessness had gone. And then the sweater, the same pink angora number I had tried on before, with the long chloroform neck. It did not smell like chemicals anymore, and now it felt tight, as it stretched obscenely over my huge breasts. I watched the strange creature emerge as the neck passed over my face. I sighed. And then the lights went out, as Yuki pulled a tight black sheath of lycra or something rubbery over my face. I could breath, my lips were visible, but I could not see. Yuki grabbed my hands and pulled me to the bed, where she locked something around my neck. Then manacles closed around my wrists, and the same uncomfortable shoes were latched onto my feet. My head was spinning. Yuki did not wait, she tugged me to my feet and led me away with short mincing steps into the next room, and further along (I thought I heard a door open and shut), until I was completely disoriented. And then there was applause and laughter, and my body burned with shame under all of these clothes. I was in a room full of people dressed like this, huge sweatered breasts, and hi heels -
And then the blonde spoke, and she said, "Everyone, meet Erin. She will do anything for a sweater." And I knew she was right.
TO BE CONT'D - Feel free to submit the next chapter to nais@hotmail.com