Virgin

Sunlight creeps through the blinds. It’s unwanted. Morning has come too soon. My brain is swimming with images from my dreams, my dreams haunted by what happened the day before. Thoughts fade away and then return in brilliant detail only to fade away again. All I see is Brad’s penis and I. I want it to go away. To disappear like nothing happened. It’s unrelenting. I think I’m going to be sick…

My legs feel weak. I can barely hold myself together as I stand over the sink, waiting for the terrible feeling in my stomach to go away. Nothing comes out. I feel like I want to vomit but there is nothing to vomit. Is this all psychological?

I hear footsteps – my roommate – my heart skips. The doorknob squeaks. The bathroom door begins to open. I look down at my feet immediately. Nothing could be worse than eye contact right now. I’m in a very fragile state emotionally and can’t handle him looking at me. He says nothing yet. I can hear him walk around me towards the toilet. From the corner of my eye I see him tilt his body and crook his head around in an attempt to look at my face. I quickly turn my head the other way, keeping my eyes squarely fixed to the ground.

‘Well, good morning to you too,’ Brad speaks. ‘Are you ashamed about something, Craigy? What’s the matter, babe?’

I say nothing. I’m still looking away. I can hear him pissing into the toilet bowl now. I hear the urine splash into the water in one long continuous stream. It makes me think of his cock. I move ever so slightly to look behind me but I stop myself. I dare not look. Or rather, I dare not let him see me look, I’m sure his eyes are trained on the back of my head. I can feel them.

Why am I still in the bathroom while he is peeing? I make for the door. An arm comes swinging around me. He holds me in place with just one arm wrapped around me between my neck and chest. I try to jerk forward towards the door and quickly feel stupid for trying. He must think I’m really weak.

‘Now wait just a minute. What the fuck are you doing, bitch? You think you are going to ignore me?’ he says surprised, just inches away from me.

He isn’t wearing any pants! I can tell because I can feel his cock as it freely moves about as he presses up close to me when he speaks. I squirm, trying to get out of this situation. This is bad, he has full control. I don’t know what to do.

To my surprise hardly any time passes and he releases me. It feels suspicious so I slowly take a few steps forward. I open the door, as I do I turn my head around. My eyes are met with his semi-erect cock that already puts mine to shame. It glistens with a few traces of piss still. He didn’t shake properly. I’ve been staring at it for a while now… my face goes red and my eyes dart up to his. He gets what he wants and instantly smiles, even if it was for just a moment. He saw it coming. He found out whatever it was he wanted to know and I looked away as fast as I could, running out of the bathroom.

I’ve locked myself in my bedroom now. He could probably kick down the door if he wanted to, but luckily he has to go to work soon so I calm down, just a bit. The next fifteen minutes takes forever. I just lay there, my back up against the door for some form of extra security and peace of mind. It makes enough sense to me and helps with the nerves. Finally I hear the house door slam shut and the click of the lock. Nothing could sound better. I step outside of my room, as if stepping onto a new planet. Upon realising that the coast is clear I settle. I’ll see what’s on TV.

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It’s not even eleven am yet and I hear the doorbell ring. My heart sinks. He should still be at work, surely. I carefully peek through the shades to see who’s there. A man is walking away back to his truck. He has left a package and a letter at the doorstep. I wait for him to drive off and then hurriedly grab them and take them inside. The package is a pretty large, heavy rectangular box and I struggle to bring it in so the door bangs loudly as a result of my frantic behaviour.

I sit down on the sofa. The envelope is blank. I open it and inside it the paper reads: ‘You know what to do.’ Below that is an address. Shit. That’s my parent’s address. The box stands just where I left it, in all its inanimate glory, silently inviting me to uncover its secrets. For a moment I contemplate not opening it. It’s got to be Brad, though, and this is obviously a reminder that he knows where my parents are. I can’t afford having them find out I’ve been bludging this whole time. I’ll be out on the streets. Sigh.

I open the box and inside the box is another box, a glory box. Opening the glory box reveals a host of contents. I notice the clothes first. I see stockings, high heels, a skirt, blouse, lingerie. I spot a wig. No. This isn’t happening. This is NOT happening. The fuck is he thinking? What am I thinking? There is no further instruction anywhere in the box. There are ladies razors and shaving gel, tweezers, lipstick, mascara, eyeliner, and eye shadow. There’s so much stuff. Why am I still looking through it? ‘You know what to do.’ The words float around in my mind. What to do, that much is obvious, but why and what for? That is my dilemma.

I argue with myself inside my head. I’m scared of Brad and what he might do. The lack of instructions has put me on edge and I’m dreading his arrival home at five. He’s always had a sick sense of humour. Maybe if I just play along we can have a laugh and call it even. It will mean I can keep on living the life I want to; no work, no socialising, no worries.

He just wants to me to look like a bitch and make fun of me, but hey, that’s not too bad. I start with his trimmer in his room, not the glory box. I’m pretty sure he only uses it for his facial hair and pubic hair, but if I’m going to shave all over I think this is where I should start. I accidentally do my arm pits too. Was that really necessary? May as well go all the way, I guess.

After a nice shit I spend a good two hours in the shower with the razor and shaving gel. By the end of it my entire body is smooth, including my balls and ass. It felt strange being hairless all over and having a hairy ass, so I did my ass crack too. No hair made my dick look bigger which was a nice change. But that isn’t saying much. All things considered, I could never take mine seriously after seeing Brad’s.

Hot water trickles down my hairless body. I can’t help but rub my hands over the newly smooth body parts. I can’t decide what feels better, the feel of it on my hands or the feel of it on my legs and ass, on my chest, on my groin. It all feels so unexpectedly good. My body is very soft and smells very girly from the scented body wash, shampoo and conditioner I found in the box. After drying off I get a rude shock checking the time. It’s two thirty in the afternoon already.

I start with the provided dark pink-red nail polish on my toenails. It gets a little clumpy on the first nail I do and I can’t find any nail polish remover. How long does nail polish last? What’s done is done. I finish the rest of the nails and my finger nails too with improvement. I don’t do too bad a job with it after all. This now brings me to the hard part, the makeup. I have no idea how to do this and there is so much stuff here; blush, foundation, concealer, moisturiser and more, so I retreat to the computer for direction.

Google always has the answers. I use the tweezers to shape my eyebrows a tiny bit. I’d already shaved my face in the shower. Not that it needed much work, for some reason it doesn’t see much growth and it doesn’t come close to as thick as Brad’s. I proceed to cleanse, tone and moisturise my face. Everything I need is in the glory box. I brush some light cream coloured foundation over my face. It matches my skin and blends in perfectly with my neck. I finish that off with some powder. I move on to the hardest part, the eyes. The eye shadow is easy enough. It’s dark and black with a purple tinge and softens my face. The eyeliner is a bitch. I’m scared of slipping and drawing all over my face, but I eventually get there, making a good job of it I feel. The difference is immediately identifiable in the bathroom mirror and it’s dramatic. My eyes look larger and the blue in my eyes really sticks out.

A scissor like contraption called an eyelash curler make my lashes curve up. Mascara then adds volume and length to the lashes. The lipstick is the same pink-red of the nail polish. I smack my lips about, spreading the colour over my lips. The pencil that is apparently lip liner seems pointless, but I apply it anyway, outlining my lips. I seal the deal with some lip gloss which gives it a shine.

I’m a good learner. I’m pretty good at this. A smattering of blush to the sides of my face is the final icing on the cake and that’s it! All done! My cheekbones look more slender, my lips full, my face very clear and smooth. Most of all my eyes pop!

White stockings with pretty red bows at the top are the first item of clothing I put on. They reach half way up my thighs and feel amazing on my bare skin. Next I slide on silky red panties, the white frilly outlining tickling me as they go up, it snugly encases my genitals. The matching bra goes on next, not forgetting the gel breast forms that fit perfectly in place. Brad has a sick sense of humour.

I wriggle the red skirt on. It wraps around my hips and flares out, hiding the small bulge in my pants. A creamy white long sleeved silky blouse is next. It has a deep v neck cut and black buttons down the middle. It looks simple and elegant. I tuck it into my skirt. I wear the red scarf tightly around my throat and it hangs down the middle of my breast where the cut in my blouse is.

I look at the wig. My natural hair is a light brown and the wig kind of matches that except I would say it’s a light brown blonde colour. It’s long, wavy, and bouncy and drapes the sides my face, the fringe teasing my eyebrows. Crunch time… I look in the bathroom mirror and – gasp – I’ve pulled it off! I look… curvy and petite. I complete the look with three inch red heels. The shoe magically fits and my back arches as soon as I stand up, sticking my butt out. I make for Brad’s room to see myself in a full length mirror and am forced to walk one foot in front of the other like a girl.

Effeminate. It’s the only thing I can think or say right now as I look into the full length mirror, turning my body to the right side and then the left. I spin around and check myself out from the back. My ass looks huge! I slide my hands all over my body, tracing the curves of my ass and legs, legs that look super fucking sexy now. This is incredibly strange, I wouldn’t mind the girl I see in the mirror in all honesty.

I’ve gone too far… Brad wanted me to dress as a girl so I’d match the horrible words he was calling me earlier; bitch, sissy, pussy… but this was surely over the top. I better tone it down a bit. Crap. The time is a quarter to five already? What the fuck? There’s no time, he’ll be here very soon.

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I tidy up as best I can and it’s now five. Brad’s car is rumbling down the drive way. I see some jewellery that I didn’t notice earlier in the glory box when I go to close it. There’s not much time to contemplate so I dive in with my hands, putting them through red and pink bangles that sit on my wrist. A red collar finds its way around my neck and I have to put the scarf back in place. The door lock churns. He’s here. What do I do? Where do I go? Time is up. I close the glory box as he opens the door and sees me turn around to face him.

Our eyes meet. He smiles and nods his approval. I don’t know what to say and keep quiet.

‘Dressing the part isn’t so bad, is it, pussy?’ He now laughs. ‘It’s ok, you’ve passed, and with flying colours might I add. Your little secret is now safe with me.’

I’m not sure what secret he is talking about. That I’m not working and that a roommate is paying the rent and bills? Little secret… I’d say that’s a pretty BIG secret I’m keeping from my parents. Or… is he talking about last night? He says it’s my little secret, but wouldn’t sucking his cock be OUR secret? I’m so confused.

‘I brought you a present,’ says Brad, as he steps into the kitchen and grabs a wine glass, ‘a nice bottle of shiraz for you.’

I sit down on the sofa when he begins to pour the red wine into the glass on the kitchen counter. I suddenly realise how god damn hungry I am. I’ve been so busy all day with the contents of that glory box that I haven’t even had time to think about food, let alone eat. The smell then hits me like a semi trailer when Brad opens up the pizza box. Words come out of my mouth without much thought.

‘Thank you so much. I’m fucking starving.’ I get up off the sofa and nearly trip myself on the heels trying to walk too fast. He laughs. I’m too hungry to care. No time for plates. I grab a slice and eat over the box.

‘Careful now, we wouldn’t want to make a greasy mess of all your hard work.’ He’s talking about me.

He pushes the glass of red towards me. I don’t want to refuse and get him mad so I take a big gulp of it and wash a mouthful of pizza down with it. He is now preparing himself a cocktail over at his liquor table that I’m not allowed to touch. He’s making his favourite, a black Russian, vodka and kahlua.

‘Take it easy, Crissy. There’s plenty of wine for you,’ Brad tells me. He tops my glass up with more and sips his own beverage.

‘Excuse me?’ I reply.

‘What’s wrong, Crissy?’

‘That. What you’re calling me. Crissy,’ making an air quotes gesture when saying Crissy. ‘What the fuck?’

He laughs. ‘I don’t know. You look more like a Crissy than a Craig. Got a problem?’ He is now staring me down.

I say nothing and don’t argue any further. I’ve gone as far as I’m willing to go with this. He’s mixed the name Craig with sissy. How demeaning.

We finish off the pizza and are now sitting on the sofa with some game show playing on the television, our drinks sitting on the coffee table. I’m now on my third glass of wine and feeling light headed. I’m not a drinker. Brad’s moved on to scotch in a glass tumbler. Conversation has been limited and frivolous, mostly about what we are watching. The game show host thinks he’s hilarious and is really fucking annoying.

‘Being a girl suits you, you know. Soft little pussy like you, a virgin, likes the indoors,’ says Brad.

I don’t know what to say in reply to that so silence follows and I look away from him and focus hard on the television. He gets up and speaks.

‘Fuck this show.’ He turns it off and turns on the stereo system, his stereo system. It’s actually an awesome set up that he owned and took from his ex-girlfriend’s place when he moved in with me. The sound and bass it gives off fills the entire room.

‘Crissy, you’ve been fucking me over. Big time.’ He is right. ‘I don’t like lying little bitches, so for tonight you play it my way.’

This isn’t fair. I already sucked his dick last night when he got home from the gym. I protest.

‘Dude, I’ve done enough. Last night, when I sucked your cock, today, dressing up like this.’ I gesture, waving my hands over myself.

‘And what do you expect? Me to continue being the only one working and paying while you lay about the house rubbing your cock all day?’ He has a point.

‘Get up and dance.’

‘Dance?’ I question back.

He grabs me by the wrist, causing my bangles to clink, and drags me up to a standing position. The music is slow and rhythmic. I generally avoid dancing. I remember my high school formal mostly featuring me and a chair, but I didn’t drink anything that time. I finish off my glass of red with my free hand, he hasn’t let go of me. He is still taller than me, even in three inch heels, and he places my left arm on his shoulder, my other hand interlocks with his out to the side, his right hand finds a place flat on the small of my back. He leads. He makes eye contact and I look back into his eyes properly for the very first time. We sway back and forth in a circle, only speaking with our eyes and the movements of our bodies. I feel very femme dancing like this in these clothes as I get lost in the deep bass of the music and it’s sensual lyrics.

The song ends, the next song plays. He places both my hands up on to his shoulders around his neck now, placing his on either side of my waist, just touching the top of my ass. He pulls me in closer, my hips sway side to side under the influence of his hands. I’m in a very relaxed state thanks to the wine and the music. This is actually kind of… nice.

He brings me in even closer and I can feel the heat of him, pressed up against my body, the silky blouse and red skirt rubbing up against my skin. It feels wrong and right at the same time. I can’t lie, it feels good. Our eyes lock once more, this time it is more intimate. His fingers slide down, firmly taking hold of my soft ass cheeks. He is so strong. He lifts me up just a tad with his hands cupped around my bottom and dips his head, his lips approach mine. Now just an inch away, I can feel his breath on mine, I close the distance and shut my eyes. I don’t know why, it just happens. My first real kiss with anyone ever! Be it girl or boy… His lips wrap around mine, our mouths open and his tongue teases mine. My tongue answers back. It’s magic, the way his lips connect with mine. Somehow, among all of the dizziness and the clinging to him like a life line, something inside me changes, never to be reversed. This new feeling could be dwelled upon later, because, for now, I was content to feel his breath come and go with mine.

The song ends and the next one starts. I may have sucked his cock the night before, but this feels more damning. Prostitutes suck cock, they don’t give passionate kisses. This is going beyond just a meaningless sexual act. I still don’t break the kiss, I continue with it, revelling in his embrace as he gropes and kneads my ass with his hands. I feel guilt and shame. This is not what a man does, this is not what I should be doing. But I feel secure and safe. I feel sexy. And most deranged of all, I feel like a girl.

He lifts me up by the ass completely off the ground now and breaks the kiss. I don’t know what I’m doing, this needs to stop, but for some reason I want more. I retighten my grip around his shoulders and neck and wrap my legs around him. He’s so strong. The weight of both our bodies doesn’t even faze him. He walks us over to the sofa and throws me on my back, our bodies still linked together. Our lips meet once more and we passionately make love with our mouths and tongues. I can taste the hard liquor that he’s been drinking. I’ve never had a woman before and here I am with another man, giving him my kiss. It’s hot, it’s wet, it’s slippery. I feel like I’m falling into a deeper and deeper hole that I can’t get out of as I get lost in the moment.

His body is grinding up against mine. I can feel his hardening cock rub up against my pubic region, rubbing against my manhood, dwarfing what I call my cock, which is now straining against the silky red panties. My body instinctively pushes back up against his. Things are getting wilder by the second. His hands are wandering all over my body, caressing me, finding their way up my skirt, gently sliding around my thighs. It feels amazing. The tip of my cock moistens.

He breaks the kiss again. I make a wanting breathy noise, half way between a gasp and a sigh. He finally speaks.

‘I want you to admit it.’ His hands are still exploring my body, causing my back to arch and body to squirm whilst looking up at him. ‘Admit that you want me. Admit you are a faggot.’

If he hadn’t already realised how flushed my face was, he would notice now. I’m lost for words in a sea of embarrassment.