(Mtg, ped, ws, cast, inc)
========================= Part One - Joseph's Story =========================
I don't know what's worse - my boss's proposal, how eager my son was to comply, or the impossibly hard tent I've been sporting for days.
Let me give you some context.
My name is Joseph Wood. I'm 42 years old, and painfully overqualified for the middle management hell I've been stuck in going on six years. I'd quit, but as the single father of a twelve year old son my options are limited.
Others my age - hell, even younger - have moved up to the CEO's inner circle. A lot of them aren't even competent, but there they are, laughing along, like they're best buds.
Bastards.
What we do doesn't matter. Crunching numbers for the government is as captivating as watching paint dry. It's the kind of thing that bores a date to tears, so I won't repeat it here.
Suffice to say the higher ups are a tightly knit pack, damn near impenetrable without an invitation. Those invitations come seemingly at random, and are few and far between.
Next I knew I was summoned into the boss' office, and what he said changed everything.
Now let me tell you about my son, David. He's a good kid - the best a father could ask for. Good grades, a competitive swimmer; a bit on the shy side, though.
He's been looking out for me since his Mom ran off, even though it's supposed to be the other way around. When I come home he's there with a meal prepared, wearing a frilly apron over his jeans and t-shirt.
David jokes about being a 'housewife', but it's good when a young man knows how to take care of himself. No woman wants a useless boyfriend or husband.
I love him more than anything in the whole wide world; which was why my heart was breaking that fateful day as I waited for him to come home.
Around 4pm the door opened, and David walked in without a care in the world. He was surprised to see me.
"You're home early," he said. "Everything alright?"
"Fine, son. Fine," I lied, and gestured to the armchair opposite me.
I watched as he sat. David was, as my boss described, 'a fine looking boy' with a mop of black hair and eyes as blue as the Pacific. It was only after talking to the higher ups that I paid any attention to his lithe figure; his slender neck, his small shoulders - and calves so tight they could crack a walnut.
He flopped into the armchair with some concern. I could hardly stand to look at him. What I was about to tell him could go a thousand different ways. God help me for going through with it.
"Come on, Dad. I can tell something's up."
Images filled my mind; images I didn't want to see, but knew I had to - of what my bosses saw in him that I couldn't. My head weighed a thousand tons, but the least I could do was look him in the eye.
"I'm up for a promotion," I said.
David lit up. "Dad! That's great news! Oh my god, I'm so proud of you! It's about time you started moving up."
If only it were that simple.
"There's a catch," I said. "There's... a party." Shame dropped in my gut like a stone. "You're invited."
David rolled his eyes. "Lame. Any chance I can get out of it?"
My voice was heavy. "No, son. In fact you're the guest of honor, and... there's no promotion without you."
David tilted his head. Poor kid. He had no idea what he was in for, and I was the one to ask. I couldn't feel like a bigger heel.
So I explained the situation; told him what my boss told me - how he would prepare, what their expectations were, how he would be addressed, and more. All this so his old man could make seven figures and sit in a corner office. Was it worth it?
But David took it better than I thought he would. He stared into the distance, his breathing heavy; but in the corner of his mouth there was something so slight - a smile. I looked to the seat of his pants, and what I saw stopped my heart. Heaven help me. The boy was hard.
It was a Friday. 8pm. We drove to the gate at the end of Hillside Drive to where a modern white building with mirrored black windows protruded from slanted ground. It was surrounded by lush grass, dense trees around the perimeter, and had a large fountain in front welcoming the guests.
It was the home of Jeremiah Banks, one of the nation's wealthiest entrepreneurs-slash-government-contractors. Only a handful of people in the world had his kind of money, which probably explained how he could afford this kind of 'party'.
I turned to the passenger seat with dread. There was no son of mine, but a pretty girl wearing his skin.
The transformation was remarkable. With some hair extensions, make-up, and a little styling David was a whole other person; a flat-chested pre-teen girl in a strapless purple dress. Not to mention the strapped wedge heels that tightened his already shapely legs.
I gripped the wheel. It was all I could do to remember that it wasn't a sultry young girl beside me, but my own son. Everything that made me a man wanted to make a move on this pretty young thing; but no loving father should ever lust after their child.
Fuck, I was so hard.
The guard let us in through the gate, and gave a wink to the 'girl' in the passenger seat. It turned my stomach the way he treated him, and even more the way David drank up the attention. Was my son a sissy faggot? It was one thing to go through with this nightmare ordeal, but that he should ENJOY it...
Of course 'he' was a 'she', at least for the remainder of the night. No longer 'David', but 'Julie', my 'daughter'. All of this to get ahead in the workplace.
Past the foyer and into the main hall was a who's who of the corporate world. Our entire board of directors was there, as were many of our rivals - some had even brought their wives. All of them had a young 'girl' on their arm - most around Julie's age, some a little older, and a fair few much, much younger. How many of them, I wondered, had actually been born female.
Julie tugged on my jacket. She gasped in a high pitched voice, natural for girls her age. God, she was way too good at that. Her eyes grew wide, and she pointed.
"Daddy! Look!"
'Daddy.' She hadn't called me that since she was six. Can't say I hated it, though. A big part of me misses those days when I carried him... HER on my shoulders.
I followed her gaze to a nearby table where a mountain of champagne cups was stacked. More notably was the Asian teen - probably Korean - standing above it wearing nothing but black heels and silk gloves. She positioned her cock - large in defiance of every Asian stereotype - and pointed the head at the tallest glass.
I could hardly believe my eyes. The room cheered as a clear stream of piss spilled forth, filling the first cup and cascading down the others. This girl - if you could really call her that - rolled her head as the weight of her bladder eased, and giggled at the men in tuxedos fawning at her feet.
When she ran dry another came forth - a full-lipped Latina with tropical flowers in her hair - to fill the rest. Her cock was the largest I'd seen on a human person; the same could be said for her silicone packed tits. Yet she couldn't be older than sixteen. When she pissed it was with the force of a fire hose that frothed the pale yellow liquid.
It was my boss, Mr. Milton, who greeted the girl as she finished. He smiled eagerly as he accepted two glasses, never looking away from her once. Then, against all reason, he sipped from one of the glasses and raised it in celebration. Then he turned to me.
"Joseph! So glad you could make it!" As though I had any choice.
He smiled a smile wider than I'd ever seen on his wrinkled face, flashing every capped white tooth he had. He held out a cup.
"Can I interest you in a drink?"
A glass of piss. 'Fuck off,' I didn't say. Instead I told him, "no thank you, sir."
"Then perhaps the young lady would like to try," he said. His eyes fixed on Julie, a girl a fifth his age. There was hunger there; a hunger that could swallow her whole.
Julie shivered. "No. No, thank you... sir."
Mr. Milton curled the corner of his lip. "I really must insist. Can't let such a fine vintage go to waste."
My son - my daughter - looked to me for guidance.
"Actually, I wouldn't mind a drop," I said, took the glass from his hand, and downed it in one gulp.
"Good man," said Mr. Milton, satisfied for the moment.
The taste... wasn't terrible. Salty, acidic, bitter - like some beers, but without the yeast. Though you'd be hard pressed to make me drink a second time.
Looking at the vixens who poured the 'refreshments' it was hard to believe that they possessed cocks of their own; and yet there was the proof, hanging for all the world to see. Sure, they were beautiful - maybe even sexy if they were real women - but this wasn't my scene, and I wasn't gay. If only my straining cock would listen.
"But where are my manners?" said Mr. Milton. "My name is Andrew. I work with your father. And you are...?"
"Julie," she said, flashing the slightest grin. She didn't know what to make of that hungry look most men had for a girl.
"You're very pretty, Julie."
She beamed. "Really?"
Milton's hand cupped her ass and rounded the back of her dress. A single digit pressed between her cheeks, searching for her sensitive virgin rosebud. He looked at me with daring. Bastard wasn't even trying to hide it.
Even worse was Julie's little moan - so small and girlish. And the way she pressed against him, moving up and down, as though she wanted to be molested by a grey-haired old man.
The father in me wanted to beat his ass. This was my son! He was a boy! Bad enough that they made him dress like a little tart, but to make him a faggot's plaything? It was enough to drive a man to the brink!
... But I kept my cool. This job would be worth it, and though I was ashamed Julie seemed to revel in it.
"I'd like to introduce you to some friends of mine," Mr. Milton said. "Would that be alright with you, Joseph?"
Julie shivered and looked up to me. "I'll be fine, Daddy. Just worry about yourself, and promise me you'll have some fun."
I promised nothing, but smiled and set her on her way.
Milton's hand never left her ass once. I watched him lean into her, breath smelling like piss, plying her with compliments. It was the worst night of any father's life.
I was miserable, and so was my boner, though I was trying my damndest to hide both.
The sounds and smells of sex were all around, backed my ambient electronic music. Depraved old men, pushing the boundaries of their lust, pressed between the lips and cheeks of emasculated boys robbed of the opportunity to be men. And now Julie - David - was caught smack-bang in the middle. All for the love of money.
A pretty young thing sauntered across the floor with a glass in each hand. She seemed more mature than the other 'girls' there - more developed, curvaceous, with cleavage pressed together, near spilling from her little black dress. She gave me that look that few women had given me since David's mom ran off. Under her shadow-coated cat eyes it was hard not to feel something stirring.
"May I sit?" she asked breathily.
I shrugged. "It's a free country."
She descended gracefully with legs together, and sidled closer than I might have liked. Her pink lips glistened in the dim houselights, and I was overcome by her scent; spicy, like cinnamon, and of flowers I couldn't name.
"Would you like a drink?" She held out the glass before I could refuse. "It's champagne, not yet distilled through an attractive young woman."
"Are you a woman?"
Most would be offended by that remark, but she took it in her stride. "No more or less than any other, but I suppose that depends on your definition."
I accepted the glass and took a tentative sip. Yep, champagne.
"How old are you?" I asked.
"Does it matter?"
"Yes," I told her, because in spite of the creaming between my legs there were some lines I was determined not to cross. I just had to know where those lines were.
She sighed and laughed. "Fifteen last month. Discovered my girlhood when I was ten, and haven't looked back since. Been to a lot of these kinds of events. Never seen you here before."
That explained her... developments. Probably taking hormones or something.
"So when you go home you're... still..."
"Twenty-four seven," she said. "Once you're a girl, you're a girl for life."
My blood froze. What did that mean for David? What if he decided to give up his manhood? What a horrible fate for my only son.
The girl pulled my chin with a finger so she had my full attention. "It's not as bad as all that," she said. "In fact it's the most freeing thing I know. Being beautiful, being desired, being ravished..." She gasped, remembering herself. "I'm Amber, by the way. Amber Jade."
"Joseph," I said, taking her hand. That's when I realized I'd seen her face before. "Amber Jade... Banks?"
She grinned like the cat who got the cream. It wasn't the same smile I'd seen inside of magazines, in family portraits of the rich and famous; but there was no mistaking that soft button nose and strawberry blonde curls.
"Daddy insists I introduce myself to as many people as I can; to show you're not the only one to, quote, 'give up his son in the climb to the top'."
Amber laughed. I didn't.
"Lighten up," she said. "It's for the best. You'll see."
Without asking, Amber slipped her feet out of her pumps and threw her legs over my lap. I was stunned to suddenly have these slender stems sat on top of me, but I dared not move.
"You don't mind, do you?" she asked, but didn't. "These heels are killing me, and I would die for a foot rub."
Maybe I should have said no before the lines in the sand were blown away completely, but she was so far up the food chain. How was I supposed to turn her down?
My hands enveloped the balls of her feet, massaging the tender curve through her sheer nude stocking. I'd never touched feet so soft - not since David was a baby. She moaned every time my thumbs pressed into her flesh. Her toes curled as I moved higher. Each of them were perfect in their own way, and would make a tasty morsel... if you were into that sort of thing, I guess.
Amber's other foot brushed against my crotch. There was no hiding how hard I was. Her touch only made it harder. She leaned into my ear and cooed. "Poor thing. I bet he's in agony."
I had to keep it together, but it was a losing battle. "I... I'm not gay," I said.
Amber grinned. "Good. Neither am I." She leaned closer. Her hot breath tickled my neck.
Fuck!
"I can't! You're a..." No, she wasn't a boy. "You have a..."
Amber took my trembling hand and guided it between her legs. My heart was beating a mile a minute. Once beyond this point, the line was gone completely. My fingers brushed against the lace of her panties, tracing the front where a pussy should have been. Instead there was a smooth curve of flesh, tucked downward; the essence of all that Amber was.
"That's, uh... that's really nice."
"I haven't even shown you the best part," she teased.
Shamelessly, and in front of a room of people who were otherwise preoccupied, she slid her panties down, kicked them off to the other side of the booth and slid closer to me. She was free now, but I dared not look down. Her eyes were too intense, like a jungle cat. If I looked away she was likely to pounce, dominate me, and win.
My fingers traced the smooth hairless skin around her cock. It was like velvet to touch, unlike any I might have imagined before. Though only small, maybe a couple of inches, she was remarkable to hold. I wanted more.
"Move down," she hummed. "Cup my balls."
Probing deeper, my touch ran along the pruning skin of her scrotum. It was harder than I thought to find the small eggs beneath the bumps. That's when I realized...
Amber grinned. "Maybe you don't see me as a girl, but now you know I'm not a man, either. Maybe I could have been, once. Not anymore."
"Why? H-how?"
"You can thank my Daddy," she purred. "He had me castrated for my birthday. I begged, and I begged, 'til finally he said yes!"
"You asked for this?"
Amber giggled. "He loves to play with my empty sack and tease me about not being a boy anymore. Not that I was much of a boy, but it's fun to pretend."
I could see why. Next to her shrunken tool and loose scrotum any man would feel more powerful, more virile. A lack of balls did not a woman make, but it certainly helped. Just thinking about it caused my body to tense. My cock was on fire!
She leaned closer, cupped my cheek, and whispered hotly into my ear. "Would you like to take a closer look?"
The air was heavy, and my thoughts were smoke. The only clear voice was the one in the seat of my pants. This debauchery was wrong - oh, so wrong. It flew against the very fabric of my manhood, and yet the temptation was overwhelming.
"Think we can find somewhere a little more... private?"
She led me by the hand to another room with an arrangement of circular beds. Each had two curtains hanging from metal rings; one heavy curtain, and another sheer curtain underneath. Many used only the sheer curtain so passersby could look upon them. I stared, dumbfounded, as Amber pulled me through the arena of sex. There wasn't a pussy among them and still I was overcome by visions of femininity.
We arrived at what would be 'our' bed. Amber was thoughtful enough to draw the heavy curtain, and sprawled like a cat upon the cushions. Her dark eyes smiled, beckoning me to taste, but I was still. All of this was new to me. I was out of my depth.
"Come closer," she purred, sliding up the hem of her dress. Her legs parted, and there sat her hairless, diminutive cock - if you could even call it that. Her empty sack lay to one side; a non-functional accessory to the soft, lazy pricklet above.
I did as she asked, crawled on my hands and knees to the other side of the bed, and breathed in the aroma of her skin. Sweet, musky, just like every other woman I'd been with. Sliding onto my stomach, I dared venture closer, like a wildlife filmmaker closing in on a pack of wolves. But Amber's 'cock' was no predator - it was the gentlest I'd ever seen, and practically begged my attention. In forty-two years of staunch heterosexuality no cock had ever swayed me... until now.
"Kiss her," she said. I had little choice but to obey.
Somehow I expected it to taste rank, metallic, but it was anything but. Amber's cock was mild in every way; soft, creamy and smooth. My tongue rolled around her hood - the only part between her legs that was uncut, while two fingers pried where her balls should have been. They ran deep, folding her sack down an unknown chasm that few men are probably aware of. Amber seemed to like it, and threw her head back with the gentlest mew. Everything about her made me hard. The culmination of thirst pooled in the seat of my pants, ready to burst from arousal alone.
She wasn't hard - never hard - which only fed the fire. Her Daddy was right; she would never be a 'real man' - not like he was and I am. Not that Amber seemed all that bothered. She pulled on the base of her cock, pulling her foreskin back, and I was overcome with a brand new flavor. Sweet, watery; the faintest drop of some kind of pre-cum dribbling from the tip.
I wanted this, more than anything. Does that make me a dirty faggot? Maybe. I was too lost in my own arousal to care. Without even thinking I arched my hips up, and with a free hand gripped my cock through my trousers. It demanded relief, and it wasn't going to get it from going down on a pretty femboy.
Amber cooed. "You poor, darling thing. Here I was, being selfish, only thinking of myself."
She pulled away. Despite being small she'd left me gasping for more. Who knew that castrated girl-cock was so addictive?
Amber pulled her dress over her head, leaving her in naught but stockings, a garter belt and a pearl necklace. She was a vision, as were her breasts. Real breasts! Not heavy enough to fold down her chest, but substantial enough to get a good handful. Most enticing of all were her nipples; swollen nubs the color of peaches and just as sweet. They were more beautiful than any I'd seen before, more than any 'real' boy could possess.
I lost control and leaned into her, enveloping one nipple between my lips, kissing and biting; and with one hand groped with desperate hunger, to feel, to drink, to know every tender inch of her.
The girl swooned and was almost lost to the sensation - almost. She pushed me back onto the pillows and chastised me teasingly. "Let me take care of you," she said, and rounded me; crawling the length of my body, straddling herself over my chest, and leaning down toward my still-suffering erection.
Suddenly I was face to face with the center of her cheeks. Amber's asshole wasn't the tight, brown sphincter I would have expected, but bright and pink; a ring of loose skin begging to be used. Heaven help me, she'd perfumed it. It smelled of rosewater and vanilla, like no ass should.
My attention snapped back when she took me into her warm, wet mouth. With unmatched skill she moved down the entire length, with one hand she cradled my balls - balls she no longer had, that would never again feel full. I was on the fast road to cumming, but I didn't want to - not yet. I needed a distraction.
Lunging at her eager hole, I lashed the rim with my tongue. I'd never eaten ass before, but I had to be doing something right - Amber squealed with surprise and descended into moaning, stuffing her throat with greater enthusiasm.
Fuck, she felt good - tasted good; hot and rich like I tasted the fire inside her. I couldn't hold back any longer. She drew cum out of me like a milkmaid. My head swam and all of my arousal ran to the base of my cock. In one glorious moment it swelled, bringing me to the moment of orgasm, and with nowhere left to go flew out of my spasming cock, deep down the back of Amber's throat. Of all the girlfriends I'd ever had, even the ones who were fiends for sex, nobody had ever brought me off with that level of intensity. Maybe I really was gay for femboys.
Amber climbed off my chest and curled into my arms, clawing for my skin through the tuxedo. She leaned her head up, and with sultry eyes pleaded for more.
"Kiss me."
I shook from my stupor. "But... I just came in your..."
"It's only polite," she said. "I'd do the same in your shoes."
That much was true, and Amber'd yet to steer me wrong. I hesitated at first, but leaned in, lips parted. Her tongue lapped against mine, only slightly tinged with my bitter taste. She'd swallowed it all down, and the remains were diluted with sweet saliva.
"See? It's not so bad," Amber hummed. She stroked the length of my cheek. Even her sweat smelled good. "This is a perk, not a punishment," she said. "You and Julie will be right at home."
Julie... David! Freed of my arousal, I hurriedly closed the front of my pants and rolled out of the bed. Somewhere in this room my son was... who knows what he was doing! Something depraved.
I told Amber, "I have to go." Where, I didn't know. I moved between the beds, listening for moans, to see if I could recognize David's voice.
Amber didn't follow. She probably knew a lost cause when she saw one.
======================== Part Two - Julie's Story ========================
I love my Dad, more than anything. As far as I'm concerned there's no better father than mine. He's always been good to me; kind, patient, funny - even when he's being stern. Which is why when Mom ran off I was determined to take care of him, too.
We joke sometimes that I'm his 'housewife'. Well... I joke. He's a man's man in the old fashioned sense, and he wants me to be the same. Wife, kids, a house in the suburbs - you know the drill. Probably didn't even occur to him that I don't think about girls that way.
I'm on the swim team, which is the only sport not dripping with machismo, and I had to pick something to pass PE. Still, Dad was proud, and he came to every competition, cheering from the front bleachers. Which is great! Don't get me wrong. But would he feel the same way if he knew what happened in the locker rooms?
It wasn't 'gay'; it was 'experimenting', though I was the only one who got on his knees to suck a dick. Whatever. Not only did it NOT disgust me, but I also kind of liked it. The taste of a boys cock in my mouth just felt... natural.
Word got out that I was thirsty for giving head, and suddenly all the boys from sixth to eighth grade wanted a piece. Every middle schooler in the county - and some high schoolers as well - lined up outside bathroom stalls to fill my mouth. My favorites were the ones old enough to shoot their cum. I swallowed every drop, and was always sad to let go, even after their spent cocks went soft.
But Dad could never know. I don't know that I was gay, but I was close enough; and he only tolerated gay people at best. Knowing that his son was excited to pleasure every boy he could? It would only break his heart.
It was one of the reasons I was so surprised that day he came home early from work.
"I'm up for a promotion," he said.
It was the best news I could have hoped for. Finally, the job that made Dad miserable was leading someplace! I guess all those extra hours were paying off. Funny thing was he didn't seem too happy about it.
"There's a catch," he said. "There's... a party. You're invited."
Ugh. Like any kid wanted to go to some boring work party with stuffed shirts talking numbers and office politics. Last time I went to one of those things I spent the night in a side room playing on my Switch.
"Lame. Any chance I can get out of it?"
His voice was heavy. "No, son. In fact you're the guest of honor, and... there's no promotion without you."
It made no sense. What would a bunch of corporate clowns want with a twelve year old kid? I guess I was still technically a virgin, able to be offered up as part of some satanic bloodbath.
"Why me?"
Dad choked on the words. "My boss thinks you're... pretty."
It struck me like a sledgehammer. 'Pretty' isn't a word most boys want to hear, but when I recoiled it wasn't in shame.
"The board of directors also thinks you're pretty," Dad said with all the joy of plucking nose hairs.
The word tightened in my chest, and my heart raced. Someone thought I was pretty? Not one person, but a whole board of directors! I don't know why, but the word was precious; but I quashed it. If Dad could read my mind I'd be dead meat. Worse if he read it on my face.
"So why is that important?" I asked.
Dad groaned and reached for a box. He couldn't watch while I opened it. What I saw left me flabbergasted. It was a dress - purple with a black lace panel running down the front.
"They want me to go to their party... dressed like a girl?"
He nodded.
"Why?"
"David, they want to do things with you," he said. "Sexual things. I don't like it either, but again, there's no promotion otherwise."
His shame was palpable, but he wouldn't ask if it wasn't important. A promotion like this could be life-changing for both of us, and all I had to do was put out for a group of old men. Maybe I should have been disgusted, but I wasn't. Instead my pants became very, very tight. Shit! I folded my legs. Couldn't let Dad see.
"I'll do it," I said. Honestly, I kind of wanted to wear the dress.
Dad dropped his head. I think he was hoping for a 'no'.
That Friday was the night of the party, and I had special permission to stay home with a stylist sent by the company. She was no less than amazing.
"You're a very beautiful boy, even without make-up," she said. "But I think girlhood would suit you better. What do you think?"
First pretty, now beautiful. I'd never thought of myself as anything other than average, but now the compliments were stacking and warm shivers ran down my arms. Any more and my cheeks would explode!
They say it's tough being a girl, but I bet becoming one is even tougher. The stylist spent the entire day working on pieces at a time - first by weaving extensions into my hair, turning my mop into long, raven locks; then cutting it, treating it, making sure it had 'body', whatever that means. It felt nice. That's all I knew.
Next was a 'mani-pedi' which is the short way of saying 'cleaning between your toes and filing your nails.' Except that the stylist had it down to an art form, and whatever she did made my toes look... well, beautiful! Pink and glossy with a subtle sparked.
Then came the waxing. God, the waxing! I only had a few sparse hairs, most of them either under my arms or bristling between my legs, but they were soon gone. At least the cool moisturizer soothed the pain.
Before the dress came the makeup. Sharply drawn eyebrows, black eyeliner and mascara, 'blending' around the jawline, a mix of pink and purple eye shadow, some blush and a shade of lip gloss just darker than flesh. I couldn't believe when I saw her. It was love at first sight. Where was the boy in the mirror two seconds ago? Who knows? Who cares? All I knew is that I didn't want this new person to go away, EVER.
The stylist could read it on my face. I needed her arms around me, or else I'd cry. Think of my eyeliner!
"You're going to raise a few cocks tonight," she said. "And who knows? Maybe break a few hearts along the way."
A sudden dread gripped my chest. What would Dad say once he saw me like this?
He didn't look at me, not once - but he did hold my hand. 'We'll get through this,' he didn't say, at least not in words.
The selfish part of me liked his being defensive. It made me feel seen, feel safe. I may have only been pretending to be a girl - I think - but he was a real man in every sense. Next to him I was small, fragile, and he was there to guard my... well, not 'virtue'.
"Have you decided on a name?"
One of the rules was that I had to be a full girl for the night, not just in appearance, but name as well. There's not a 'David' in the world who looked the way I did.
"Julie," I said. "Adjective. To be like a jewel."
Dad didn't laugh. "That's funny," he said, stone-faced.
He may have been cold, but that was for his sake, not mine. Dad was struggling. This world was different to anything he'd ever known; heck, it was different to anything I knew! But some people are less adaptable than others.
Never once between the car and the mansion did he let go of my hand. He was determined to protect me as much as he was able. Even while he 'fed me to the wolves' - his words - he silently promised to be at my side.
I only wished I could tell him it wasn't that bad. Maybe I'd have to show him instead.
We'd hardly stepped in the door before I was swept into a social tsunami, and a grey haired man named 'Andrew' pulled me away from my father. Maybe I should have been scared, but I wasn't. This man wasn't going to hurt me; he wanted to have sex with me, just like the agreement said - and I don't think Dad would want to see that.
Some people call old men 'creepy', but I don't think so. Maybe I'm lucky, and I grew up with kind, caring men who'd never go out of their way to hurt me. At worst they were boring and didn't know how to talk to a kid. Andrew seemed like that kind of guy, though I'd never met a man who was hard for me before. I wasn't scared, but I was nervous. What do girls do in this situation? Heck, what do boys do in this situation? I wanted to please him, to play my role well, but I just didn't know how.
Andrew smiled and pulled close. His erection pushed into my stomach, through his pants, through my dress; the heat of it stirring something inside me.
"Don't worry, I don't bite," he said, and then breathed into my ear, "unless you want me to."
A shiver ran over me. I don't know if I liked it or not... okay, I liked it a LOT. Being pretty, being delicious, being desired! I never imagined being any of those things, but knowing that I was...
My eyes wandered up and down. What did Andrew look like under his tuxedo, I wondered. Was he hairy like my father; with thick fur the color of his hair woven across his chest? I eased back a step, pulling away from the hardness. I was bug eyed at the shape that pressed his trousers, bigger than I'd ever seen before! Sure, I'd blown every teenage boy in the county, yet to fully grow - but Andrew was a man.
"You're a very beautiful girl," he said, brushing my cheek. The way he looked on me was like a spotlight melting the world around into nothingness. My cock strained against the panties holding it back. I tried to ignore it; I was supposed to be a girl.
With both hands on my hips he pulled me back, and leaned into my shoulder. Andrew stopped, only then to remember himself.
"May I kiss you?" he asked.
I wasn't supposed to want this, but I did, more than anything! So I nodded, dumbly, losing any words that might have spilled out of my mouth.
Andrew sunk his teeth into my neck ever so lightly, and closed his lips upon my flesh. He breathed me in and ran his tongue's warmth around. I threw my arms around him and held for all my might. How could anything feel this good! After a minute he loosened his hold, and lifted my chin to meet his gaze. My mind was still swimming, lost in a haze of sensation. Why did he have to stop?
A sudden urge drove me forward. Lips crashed against one another. Andrew pressed back, taking charge with his tongue mingled with the taste of some girl's urine. I didn't care! I wanted him - every morsel. It's funny. I've sucked a lot of dick in the past, but it was only now that I had my first kiss, and with a much older man.
The floodgates in my chest flew open, and a desire came crashing out; a desire that wouldn't wait, so thirsty that it could consume every man for a mile. Being a girl was the key, and I was going to be the very best girl of all.
We entered the back room where two older men sat next to each other on a long, leather sofa. Both had a girl to play with, straddling their sides. Neither man seemed to mind their cocks out in the open, and were focused instead on the beautiful creatures handling them.
I was dumbstruck. The man on the left - with hair greying on the sides and a trimmed goatee mustache - sat gripping the hips of a girl in a gold bikini, whose cock had 'slipped' out of her thong. She pressed her skinny tool to the underside of his and jerked them together with her hand. 'Frotting' I think it's called, and it's a lot sexier in person.
The other - with fiery red hair and a thick, neatly kempt beard - stroked the back of a little girl sitting in his lap. She couldn't have been older than eight or nine, or seemed so dressed in a pastel pink ballerina dress. They kissed passionately; his two fingers massaging her thumb sized organ, and her small hand struggling to contain his width.
All the 'stranger danger' warnings drilled into us at school went out the window, along with warnings of predators in panel vans. These things did not apply when it came to the rich and powerful, and the heat in my belly was thankful.
Andrew cleared his throat. "Excuse me, sir."
Both men pried themselves from the girls in their arms, prompting needy mewls. The blonde in the bikini curled her lip. "Who's the new girl?"
"Now now," said the goateed man. "Play nice." He slapped her ass, signaling her to leave.
The red headed bear turned to me, and flashed a smile as wide and as bright as any I'd ever seen. "You must be Joseph's daughter," he said, then turned to say goodbye to his young pet. As shiver ran through me as I watched the big man lean in, slurp the girl's tiny digit, and turn his head up to feed his tongue into her mouth.
"I'll be back for you later, little one," he said to the girl, and sent her scurrying through another door.
He stood, making no effort to tuck his penis away. It was huge - nearly the size of a cucumber! And hung low down his front. I wondered how a girl was supposed to take that thing.
"Eyes up here," he said, and lifted my chin. There was a hunger in his eyes that burned hotter than I'd never seen before. Desire unbridled, like a forest fire too intense to ever be quelled.
When he took my hand he handled it like porcelain and kissed the back of my palm. I gasped in wonder, as though I'd never known a strong man to be so gentle.
"My name is Jeremiah Banks," he said. "'Jerry' to my friends. 'Sir' to good girls like you."
There were those words. I melted all over again. Was I really that predictable? Or maybe there were a lot of girls who wanted to be good, to please, to be wanted.
"And what's your name?"
"J-Julie," I said. "Um, adjective. L-like a jewel!" Shy smile, eyes down, cue cringe.
Sir paused, and burst out in laughter. He turned to Andrew, then to his friend. "She's funny! Nobody told me she was funny! Oh, Julie. Sweet Julie. I can tell we're going to have a lot of fun together."
He didn't ask like Andrew did, but a man like that always takes what he wants. He pressed his mouth to mine, lavished me with the warm taste of him, and scraped my lips with his bristles.
I clasped my thighs together, trying to contain myself. This had to be some kind of dream. Thank heaven for dirty old men.
His strong hands lifted the hem of my dress. Another set of hands brushed me from behind, pulling my hips back. I met him halfway, grinding my cheeks against the hard thing in his pants.
Andrew peppered kisses along my shoulder, making my head swim, inspiring me to fall limp in both their arms. The only part of me still standing was the throbbing dick tucked into my panties, which was soon swept up into Andrew's palm.
"She's so fucking hard," he said.
Two bodies a head taller than me closed around from the front and back, with a third following his cock's lead to the side. Maybe they were wolves, but I was the one hungry for meat.
"Room for one more?" asked the goateed man.
Andrew hummed. "Owen, meet Julie. Julie, Owen. He's one of our regional managers."
"She doesn't want to hear about all that, do you, princess?"
This wasn't his first time. Sir knew just the right words to make a girl feel special. I stood on my toes - as well as I could in wedge heels - and opened my mouth, begging for Owen's kiss. My ass ground against Andrew, while a free hand curled around Sir's surging cock.
Underneath the thin, fleshy layer was a stone burning with heat. It belonged in my grip, in my mouth... other places I dared not think about.
'Please fuck me,' I would have said, only it came out a needy whimper.
Sir raked his fingers through the back of my hair and twisted a handful, using it to draw me away from Owen. My mouth gasped to be filled, and fill it he did with two sweaty fingers. I savored the salty flavor, bringing my mouth down on them the same as I would any phallic object - so long as I had something!
"Would you look at that eager mouth," he said. "What's say we put it to good use? How does that sound, sweetheart?"
I nodded dumbly, lost in the haze of want. There was little I would refuse, so long as I had a cock in front of me.
Andrew and Owen stood to either side of Sir, and the three men started to undress. I'd only ever seen one man in the nude before - my father, and only when I was very young; but I'd never seen him hard or preening for a mate, rolling his shoulders and demanding service.
Without even thinking I fell to my knees and peered up, eyes fixed on a man more powerful than his fortune.
"Good girl," said Sir, inspiring another joyous wave tingling down my arms.
If anything could snatch my attention from his gaze it was his dark tool moving ever closer. We were face to face, with the tangy smell of his body tickling my nostrils. It smelled like a boy's locker room, which should have been gross, but...
My lips fell over him and took him as far down as a twelve year old could go. I'd only ever sucked on boys, not men with mighty cocks that could support wet laundry. And I was still a kid; immature and inexperienced, but making up for in enthusiasm. There's nothing in the world better than the taste of cock, I decided. That night it would be all I could think about as the doors of this delicious world flew open!
A hand on either side took mine and placed them on two more waiting rods. They guided me in jerking them, in case I forgot on my own. I didn't have to open my eyes to know that Andrew and Owen wanted the same oral treatment, though the boss had the privilege of using me first.
"Share the wealth," Sir instructed, "like a good girl."
And I was - a very good girl! I pulled away, only to throw myself at the next nearest erection, opening wide and challenging my ability to swallow. In the tidal wave of lust I needed cock more than air, and pressed until I choked.
Owen laughed. "This one's a keeper!"
'Yes,' I thought. 'Keep me! Force me to crawl on my hands and knees! Make me pose for you and touch my body, satisfying your every sexual want!' A girl could get drunk on ideas like that.
It felt like hours, maybe longer, but time had lost all meaning. My jaw ached, but that was second to the absolute joy of serving. If only they'd promoted my Dad sooner.
My poor Dad. If he could see me now, he'd be so ashamed. Maybe I would be too, after the deed was done. Nobody could say for sure. All a man's man like him wanted was a son to be proud of; not a would-be daughter thirsty for every dick that rose for her.
"Mmf! Daddy..."
He was all I could think about as the first streaks of cum landed along the roof of my mouth. A firm hand pressed my head down, making sure I couldn't escape his thick, salty taste. I swallowed the first spurt, choked on the second, and lapped up the rest as it ran down the length of his cock.
I barely had a moment to revel in satisfied moans before another hand pulled me between his legs. The cum was thick on my tongue, and too overwhelming to be diluted. It was everywhere, practically running down the back of my throat. All I could do was whimper like a little girl, so thankful for their rich, manly reward.
When I opened my eyes it was to Sir's devilish grin. The tip of his cock burned like an ember, trembling as he brought himself to climax.
"You belong to me, girl," he said. It was everything I never knew I ever wanted. Cum launched from the tip of his slit, shooting in waves and landing in streaks over my face. Thick, wet semen trickled down my skin, over my eyes and down my cheeks. I was like a piece of meat, and Sir was the alpha dog, claiming me as his own.
My legs clasped around my prick. I was so hard, but hadn't been able to touch myself. Now I was on the verge of exploding!
Andrew and Owen collected their belongings. Each leaned down to give me a passionate kiss, not at all bothered by the pool of cum in my mouth and running down my chin. I shivered, still reveling in their ever-present desire. And then they were gone.
Sir patted his knee, inviting me to join him. I crawled up, blind, and sat my naked bottom on his flesh. The sensation of skin against skin flooded me with delight, as did the hand that cradled the small of my back. With delicate fingers, Sir wiped the cum from my eyes, ran it over my skin, and fed it between my lips. Despite my mouth being full to the brim I slurped it all, eager to show him my thirst. I opened my eyes, and there was that smile again; confident in a way few men could be.
He pried my legs apart, and with his free hand wrapped my poor, aching dick. It's not the biggest you'll ever see - long, maybe; but not thick - but it was definitely hard. With every stroke of his mighty hand I could swear it grew.
"Are you having fun, sweet girl?"
I nodded.
"Good. It just wouldn't do if you weren't having fun," he said. "You know, we don't just go out and feminize boys for the fun of it. We seek them out, and select only the most depraved to join our... I guess you'd call it a 'club'."
Yes. That was me; depraved. Deviant. Faggot. Sissy. Cocksucker. All the words made ugly by people too afraid to chase what they wanted - but I would wear them, shape myself into them, and be the wanton slut every sexy old man craves.
Sir handled me like putty, and guided me to the arm of the lounge chair. It was almost painful when he drew his hand away.
"Have you ever had anal sex, Julie?"
I admitted no, despite the number of fingers, vegetables and other objects I'd experimented with.
"A girl like you is born for it," he said. "Perhaps it's time for you to learn." His touch pressed down the inside of my thigh, and turned underneath my balls. There he plunged into the valley between my cheeks, found my tight virgin hole, and swirled around it.
My breath caught in my throat. "D-doesn't it hurt?"
"Only if you rush," he said. "The trick is to relax and let it happen. You may feel full, like you need to use the restroom, but that's a part of the process. Just... let... go."
Somehow my body knew. I'd never been fucked by anyone before, but a stirring inside me was desperate for someone to reach. It was, in my mind, the most natural thing in the world.
"Get on all fours," Sir said. "Lean over the arm rest." When Sir spoke, I obeyed.
My skin pimpled as a slick, jelly-like coolness dribbled down my ass. Sir met it half-way, guiding its path with his fingers, running over the puckered folds of my entrance.
If Dad could see this he'd flip; and yet I couldn't shake the thought of his digits doing the same. Those same hands that held me as a baby, which held mine as we crossed the street in grade school, in my fantasies were the same that tested my depths.
One finger slipped inside, and already I was in ecstasy. So many times I'd played with myself and felt nothing. Maybe it needed a man's touch to get going.
"This must be a lot, even for a little slut like you to take in," he said. "Not just my fingers, mind. This whole... 'arrangement'."
I would have agreed, but words were anywhere but my brain.
"You must really love your father," Sir said, plunging his finger deep. I gasped, and whimpered as he curled against something inside me. It was so sensitive!
"More... more than anything!" I whined.
There was some sort of commotion, but I was too far gone. My body demanded to be filled. It screamed, shutting out anything else.
"How much?" Sir slowed, giving me room for thought. "Have you ever thought about fucking him?"
I nodded. "Ever since Mom left... I... wanted to be... his wife..." That was when a 'joke' stopped being a joke. I did want to serve him, to please him, to give him everything that he missed by being abandoned. It was the least he deserved after all he sacrificed for me.
Another finger shot into my hole, prompting me to writhe. I tightened around them, fighting to hold on as they pistoned in and out of me.
Then I heard his voice. "David?"
It almost snapped me back into my body - almost. There was my Dad; disheveled, covered in sweat, his salt and pepper hair a mess. The look on his face jumped between horror, rage and something else, I don't know what.
Mr. Banks - Sir - slid a third finger in my hole, stretching it with a sweet ache that sent me back to the edge. It begged to be filled, even under the shameful eye of my father.
"Daddy!" I wailed, pleading for both his understanding and the delicious tent he carried. More! I needed more!
"You hear that, Joseph?" Sir said with pride. "The girl wants you, body and soul."
"This isn't right," Daddy said. "I'll... I'll kick your ass! Call the authorities! I'll-"
"Men like us don't answer to the authorities," Sir continued, "so you can stop the moral posturing. There are no rules here, Joseph. You can unleash your desires, no matter how depraved."
His fingers twisted, as though to drive his point home. Fuck, I was so full! And it hurt, but I wanted more; and I gasped, fought to relax, but squeezed, wanting all of him pressed against my walls!
"D-Daddyyyyyyyyyy..."
He was lost, unsure of what to do with the lust in my eyes. It had been there the whole time, but only now did he see it.
"Isn't she beautiful, Joseph?" Sir pressed. "She wants you, and there's nobody here to stand in the way."
All this time - wanting to taste him, wanting to feel him, wanting to swallow him from both ends - it all sat in the open. A swell of need filled my chest, and I searched for any trace in him. I moaned around Sir's hand. Not even twisting my nipple could dull this feeling.
Daddy blinked. "She is... beautiful. She's so, so beautiful."
I pressed back on Sir's hand. I could almost cry!
"Then tell her so," Sir said.
My father wandered toward the arm of the lounge. Even with my ass being stuffed I didn't break his gaze once. The floodgates were open, and feelings coated in shame ran free. It wasn't lust as much as it was... something. A new facet to our bond?
He sat on his knees and leaned closer, parting his lips and drawing me into a kiss. Daddy didn't seem to mind the taste of cum, or even care. The electricity running between us was fiercer than all of that.
"You're so beautiful," he gasped. "So sexy..."
"Make me your girl, Daddy," I said.
He caught his hesitation and nodded. Nothing would stop him from taking his twelve year old son-turned-daughter's virginity.
I stepped out of my dress and lay on the length of the chair. Sir pulled my legs back, and guided me to hold them. The open air tickled my hole, which was suddenly very empty.
"That's a good girl," Sir said, biting his lip in satisfaction. How often does a man get to watch live incest unfold for the first time? For a man like Mr. Banks, probably a lot, but he was no less excited.
Daddy stroked his cock which was stained brown with sweat. It stuck out from his wiry hairs like a great tree stretching over a forest. A shimmer of pre-cum all but gleamed from the hood of his uncut slit. His eyes shifted between me and my waiting hole. My breath halted in anticipation. I wanted to see him every moment he was inside of me. My father, my love - my Daddy!
"Are you ready?" he asked.
I nodded.
With ever so much care he pressed his tool against my hole, which was still aching from use, but warm enough to accept his width. It was like nothing I could ever imagine! More powerful than fingers, pushing through my resistance as though designed for it. Daddy pressed deeper, squeezing little moans from my girly throat. Soon he found my 'button' - the hard little nub hidden inside every former boy. His cock practically arced to meet it, applying a level of pressure never felt before.
Fuck, I could cry! With need, with joy, with so much more! Daddy shuddered as he fed me the rest of his length, the heat of him growing with every inch. Once he was in I let go of my legs and wrapped them around his waist, pulling him as close as two bodies could manage. He shuddered, lost in the reality of my squeezing around him, and him stretching my depths. His strong, manly hands clasped my hips, and we held each other. It was the most perverse dream come true.
"Fuck me," I begged.
Sir nodded with encouragement, and stroked his own engorged cock.
And he did - fuck me, flexing his core and driving deeper. My head swam and my body was in ecstasy, bounding on the up and down waves of Daddy pumping his cock. My 'button' screamed as though it would burst, but always sat on the edge.
"Harder, Daddy!"
With hunger and fury he gripped my sides and pulled me in time with his thrusts; always right to the edge before plunging back in. I was screaming! Overcome with an internal swell the likes I'd never experienced, but would hopefully feel again, and again, and again!
Sir had claimed my body, but Daddy owned my soul, and always would. I was his girl - his daughter, his wife, his obedient little slut, and I would always obey. I would serve his needs, serve his cock, serve his every whim so long as it brought a smile to his face; so long as I could make him proud.
From nowhere a final surge raced outward, pulsing from my button and projecting outward through my dangling erection. Juice thicker than any other girl's flew from my cock, spraying my stomach and my chest. Daddy snarled, and with one hand ran my cum over my nipple and used it to massage my flat, immature tit. More than anything I wanted tits for him to ravage! I snatched his hand and greedily licked his fingers, desperate for the taste of cum, even if it was my own. Now that I had it I'd never again be without it, and would go out of my way to milk every cock I could find; but only if Daddy wasn't available.
His eyes rolled back. "I'm cumming, sweetheart. I'm cumming!"
Daddy's seed shot deep into my depths. I held for all I could, savoring his every spasm, gripping him for as long as possible before his beautiful cock slipped out of me. He leaned down, and glistening with sweat, tickling my naked body with the thick hair of his chest, he kissed me. Our tongues danced and our lips crashed, as though trying to inhale the other.
Sir was still beating for all his life, but we hardly noticed. Daddy and I had forged a brand new bond that would change us forever.
And what a strange way it happened, with the offer of a new job.
================= Epilogue - Joseph =================
Amazing how so much can change in such a short amount of time. To think, little less than a month ago I was stuck in a cubicle for forty hours a week, driving a used Nissan, living in a house barely a third of the way through paid off. Now? Upscale condo, luxury sedan, three hour lunches on the company dime, and the most precious gift of all...
"Daddy! I'm home!"
Once upon a time I had a son. He was a good kid - the very best a father could ask for. Now she walks in the front door; medium length black hair tied in a high ponytail, straight bangs hanging over her eyes; white school blouse with tie and matching tartan skirt far too short for a girl of any age, and those same tight calves wrapped in crisp, clean stocking socks.
She's an angel incarnate, and the moment I see her my hands are everywhere, pressing her against the living room wall, while I envelope her mouth in mine. Julie moans into my kiss and wraps her legs around me. Her erection pokes from under her skirt, but it's that tight little ass that screams for attention.
I unbutton her blouse. One hand snakes inside, massaging the flesh under her bralette. The hormones work fast on a kid her age; she's already an A cup! Her Mom was stacked, and if that's anything to go by Julie will follow a tradition any father can be proud of.
Who could have dreamed of a life like this? Definitely not me; and all it cost was my self-righteous ego. That's the price of getting ahead.
END