Making a Woman of Him Ch. 07

In spite of his exhaustion, he couldn't push the memory of Yvette from his mind. That first night he had seen her naked, how she had forced him to touch her breasts, how she had handled him. He knew there was more and as much as he wanted to push it away, the memory came tearing back into his consciousness.

He made his way downstairs, his room and her clothes as clean as he could muster. He hoped he hadn't ruined her blouse. The carpet he was less concerned about. He held the panties in a ball, intending to throw them in the garbage where no one would be apt to find them.

She wasn't in the kitchen when he got there. Not knowing what she wanted for dinner, and not having much experience in the way of cooking, he set the table at the bar for two. As he was putting down the water glasses, she walked in.

"No, no, no, Chester. That won't do at all. Those look just awful!"

He looked at the place settings, confused. He didn't think it was going to be a formal night...

She giggled. "Not the plates, idiot. Those horrific sweat pants and shirt. Take them off -- they're offensive."

He looked at her to make sure she was serious, and looked around to see who might come home. It was only 5:30, the servants wouldn't be back til the morning, and who knew when his father might appear. Maybe never. The entire side of the house was glass, but it faced a private arboretum -- there were no neighbors on this side. As long as she didn't make him go outside, the thought ran a shiver through him, he wouldn't be exposed.

"C'mon. Please, Chester. They're really awful! Where did you get them?"

He shrugged, not wanting to set her off, and peeled the sweat shirt over his head. He could feel his peter jiggling -- he hadn't bothered to put on any underwear -- and the thought he would be naked in the kitchen sent one of the odd pulses through his groin. Slipping off the pants, he folded them and set them on a chair.

"What's for dinner?" He looked at her in the light and gasped a little. She had put on sheer cotton pajamas, her breasts, particularly her nipples and the dark area around them, clearly visible, as was the dark triangle of hair at the top of her legs. "You look hungry enough you could eat me," she said in a way that left him wondering if she meant something else.

"I...I don't cook...that much. On nights like this there's usually some casserole or something we can microwave." He walked to the side-by-side and opened it. He could sense her coming up behind him, but he jumped when her fingers touched the small of his back.

"You're a little high-strung, Chester. Just relax a little. Just the two of us. Hanging." Her hand came around his waist and cupped his balls and cock. "At least, you're hanging. So far."

He froze, waiting for her to let him go. "Uhhh...I don't know what else you might want."

She giggled, pulling a dish from the refrigerator. "It looks like there's some vegetables in the drawer. Grab 'em and I'll show you how to cook a little."

He did as she directed, awkwardly peeling carrots, slicing a cabbage. She seemed to know her way around the kitchen -- a difference between their upbringings.

Sitting across from her at the peninsula, his discomfort at being the only one without any clothes on returned. "Would you mind...?" He nodded to his sweat pants.

She ignored him, or pretended not to understand. "Hey! I've got some friends coming over a little later. I want you to help me."

He turned pink at the images that came into his head. "What, exactly, do you mean 'help?'" He asked softly.

"It's not much, actually. One of them is an aspiring fashion designer -- she's trying to get a line ready and she needs some input. I thought you could offer an opinion or two."

He chewed slowly, watching her, knowing there was more to it than that. "My opinion? On fashion?"

"Women's lingerie," she grinned, her eyes glistening coldly. "You'll be modeling."

He almost choked, his face beet red. "No. You can't. I won't. Yvette...you can't make me..."

"You're right. It's probably too much to ask. But I just thought...well...never mind."

He saw the scheming behind the mask of her face and couldn't avoid the bait. "What. What...were you 'thinking?'"

"It's just that, I'm pretty certain your school chums would be more than interested in your nighttime habits...with your sister, no less."

"You wouldn't! You can't! Yvette...this...you..." He had lost his appetite, his stomach cramping.

"Whatever. I thought you might want to help. They'll be here in an hour -- should we just leave the dishes for the help?" As she got up, he thought he noticed her pajama bottoms sticking slightly between her legs, and as she turned, he saw they had ridden up between her cheeks. His face was burning, embarrassed by what he had seen and frightened by what he knew she was going to make him do.

That he would agree was never an issue. She knew it, she knew he knew it, and she knew he knew she knew it. She just liked to play -- like a cat with a mouse. It aroused her to no end to toy with him. He would parade around in Lyssa's designs all night. It would pass the time.

He heard the doorbell ring from his room. He had hoped to get dressed, but didn't know what to wear -- he couldn't find any of his clothes. He threw on one of his mother's robes. As the sounds of young women's laughter and voices echoed from the front hall, he felt another jolt in his peter. "You can't possibly be getting an erection from this!" He hissed to himself.

Trying, and failing miserably, to concentrate on his History, it was a mixture of anxiety and relief when Yvette knocked on the door.

"Chester? I'd like you to meet a couple of my friends -- Lyssa and Hannah. Girls? My step-brother, Chester."

He turned, smiling weakly at them, exchanging polite hellos.

"Chester? Would you like to join us downstairs?" It wasn't a question and he knew it.

He set aside his book and tried to control the shivering. They had left, his sister still in her transparent pajamas, Lyssa -- a dark haired, pierced Goth, and Hannah looking stoned or just stupid. Standing up seemed to help, his upper body vibrating, his peter sending weird signals. He wiped his face, his hands massaging the muscles trying to reduce his tension.

He padded down the carpeted stairs, barefoot. He could hear them in the living room, and he tensed at the idea he would be stripped naked not only in front of his sister, not only in front of her friends, but possibly to the driveway and street beyond. With each thought, his peter pulsed a little and his face turned a deeper red.

"Oh...there he is. Isn't he just so cute when he blushes?" She motioned for him to take a chair in front of them. They were reviewing a sketchbook on the coffee table. He noted, relieved, the curtains were drawn. His self-consciousness returned as he tried to sit without exposing himself, the robe riding up his legs.

"So...Lyssa was just going over her designs -- they look pretty amazing. What do you think?"

He didn't know anything about women's lingerie. He just liked stroking his mother's when he masturbated he kept reminding himself, wanting to shout at her sister but knowing it would only make it all worse. That was the last thing he should be saying right now!

"Chester? What do you think?"

The three of them were staring at him now, their gazes shifting from the pink robe to his face, as if they were expecting him to get hard. He shook his head silently, pleading with her to not go through with whatever she had in mind.

"Sometimes it's hard to imagine a design from the sketches, Lyssa, you know?" She smiled at him, sounding as if she was the kindest, most endearing sister a boy could want. "Maybe it would help to see the prototypes?"

For whatever reason, this last question sparked some interest in Hannah, who until then looked as if she had been about to fall asleep. She reached over and grabbed a large duffel, putting it on the table as Lyssa gathered up her sketchbook.

"Let's see," Lyssa said, unzipping the luggage. "I've got an entire ensemble here I think is really cool." She pulled out a plastic bag filled with a gauzy pink material.

He stared, dumbstruck, as she laid out an entire outfit -- panties, stockings, garter and a teddy -- all baby pink and all silk. He licked his lips before he could stop himself, and felt his peter moving.

"Do you think they'll fit?" Yvette's question hung in the air, the implication she had discussed the plan with the two others now obvious, and he blushed. "What do you think, Chester? Do you like these?" She motioned for him to get closer, touch them and pressed him for an answer.

"They're...I...they're really nice." He could barely speak, his tone as non-committal as possible.

"You see?" She turned to the two women. "I thought he'd like them. Go ahead, little brother, let's see them on."

He looked up to see all three staring at him, Yvette cruelly, Hannah with mild interest, and Lyssa with the stare of a scientist -- as if he were some exotic species she'd never encountered before.

"Please...Yvette...no...This isn't right..." His fingers belied his protests, drifting across the material.

"Now, now, Chester. I don't think that's very gentlemanly of you. Especially after I promised my friends you'd help. Up. Up! Let's see how these work. If they fit, Lyssa has a couple of other things to try on too, right?

He shook his head, looking at Lyssa's eyes. She was smiling softly, encouraging him to try.

As if in a dream, he stood up, his fingers untying the belt, letting the robe slip open. He knew he wasn't the most muscular boy, but he'd never given it much thought before his sister had forced him to bare himself. He could feel his peter getting larger and blushed again, knowing his body was conspiring against him.

He looked down. He couldn't stand to see their faces staring at him, looking at his peter when it got so hard. He just wished it would behave itself and not give itself away. He peeled off the robe completely, his penis at half mast.

"Oh shit," Lyssa gasped, looking over at Yvette. "They're not going to fit right at all."

"Well, he should at least try them on so you can get the right measurements, yeah?"

Lyssa nodded, staring. Hannah reached into the duffel for a tailor's tape and they watched as he pulled the pink panties onto his legs, and up as high as he could. They easily went over his thighs -- they were high cut and the elastic waistband stretched tightly around his hips. The crotch though was far too flat -- it mounded out, his penis folded over.

They stared at him, waiting. He pulled up the garter, and then the stockings, snapping them in place. They were too long and bunched a little at the knees. As he was about to reach for the teddy, his eyes brimming with tears at the way they were staring at him, his sister held up a hand.

"Hold on. This looks awful, doesn't it?"

Hannah was on her feet, her hands winding the tape around his waist. "32." She moved it down to his hips, across his bulge. "35...no better make that 36" She saw his cock pulse as she ran her fingers across it. Dropping to her knees, she took his inseam, "30," pushing his balls aside with her knuckles "dresses left," and before standing back up, stared at his cock. He didn't know what she was planning, it looked like she was going to kiss it. For the second time that night, he was sickened at the thought of a girl putting his peter in her mouth. Nobody would want to get that dirty!

"Hannah! You're such a ho. Get back, girl."

"I can get those stockings to work, but the panties...They're completely wrong." Lyssa was up now, kneeling down to tuck the tops of the stockings into the clips, tightening them to take up the slack. "But this hair...it's disgusting. It completely ruins the look." She waved her hands all around his body, from his legs up to his chest.

He heard Yvette laughing through the drumming in his ears. No. They wouldn't. They couldn't. He'd run away. He'd...he didn't have anywhere to go. Yvette would be on Facebook in a flash; the whole school would know. But...but they'd know on Monday, anyway, when he went to the gym, completely shaved. He felt hot tears dripping down his cheeks.

"Whoa, there," Lyssa stepped back, the drops landing on her neck. "You'll stain the merchandise."

"There's nothing to be done, Chester. You heard the designer -- doesn't work with your hair. We're going to have to clean you up. I think I have just the stuff for it. Get out of those things before you ruin them, and we'll head upstairs to the bathroom."

He carefully removed the garments, worried he would rip them, handing them to Lyssa, his eyes unable to meet hers. Stripped bare, he let Yvette lead him up the stairs, his eyes red and burning from the shame.

"No, little brother. Let's use Mom and Dad's." She directed him the other way at the top of the stairs -- away from his bathroom to the master suite. He'd only used it once before, that he could remember -- years ago when his dad made them shower together. He dimly remembered the embarrassment of that day -- seeing his dad's penis, huge and hanging, his body hairy and looking so...dirty.

He followed Yvette into the bedroom, the reflection of his naked body in the full length mirrors reminding him of how little control he had. He could hear the other two coming up the stairs, arguing about something.

She flipped on the lights in the bathroom, the whole room lit up with a pink glow. It was a temple of marble, larger than his entire bedroom. At the far end, a glass enclosed shower big enough for all of them, the two side walls covered in water jets. The far wall of the shower, glass from end to end, looked out onto a private garden; he had spent a lot of time in that garden, the memories of his mother's silhouette making his heart jump.

"I...I have to use the bathroom," he said quietly, hoping to buy time, hoping Yvette would somehow change her mind.

"Go ahead. I've got to get something from my room. I'll be right back."

The toilet was separated from the main bathroom; he closed the door behind him and sat, eliminating as best he could, knowing the two girls were just on the other side. He couldn't prevent the splashing as he urinated or the noise as his gas exited. He sniffled and cried silently, struggling to find a way out of the situation.

"Chester? Are you almost done? We want to get started, little brother?" She opened the door, revealing him sitting, his face teary.

"Just leave me alone...for a few minutes, can't you?"

"Now stop that, Chester and get yourself cleaned up. C'mon!"

He pulled the tissue from the roll, trying to ignore them as they stared. He wiped himself and got up, flushed the toilet and went to wash his hands, more ashamed and humiliated than he'd ever been in his life.

Lyssa had set herself up at his mother's vanity, her duffel on the floor, the pink underwear on her lap. "I think I've got an idea, Yvette. When I saw how Chester filled out the main panel, I realized what I've got to do. Chester -- I can't tell you how much you've helped me."

Yvette motioned him over to the bathtub where she'd perched herself, her legs slightly open, the dark triangle and deeper crease at the top of her thighs catching his eye. Hannah was standing next to her, not appearing to do much of anything. The fear of losing all of his hair, of being the laughingstock at school started another round of shivers. His teeth began to chatter.

"Chester! Are you cold? Hannah -- turn on the heat lamps -- over there."

The room grew a deeper shade of pink. He looked down, his skin looked like it did after a sunburn peeled -- pink and fresh. He didn't have much hair on his chest, and in moments he'd have even less. His gaze traveled down to the wisps around his peter -- also not much compared to what he'd seen other boys had in the locker room. And his legs, why were they being so mean? He felt his eyes filling with tears again, hoping to stop the flow by shutting them.

"Chester, my brother," she was talking softly, but all he heard was menace in her voice. "This is very expensive stuff. You won't have to use much. Just take some on your fingertips and spread it all over."

She held open a wide-mouthed jar half-filled with a white crème. The smell was acrid and floral. He scrunched his nose as he scooped some onto his fingers and began to spread it on his chest.

"Hannah -- can you come help me here?"

He felt the air movement as she stood close to him. He couldn't look at her doing what he was doing. He scooped more, wiping the crème across his breastbone.

"Don't forget under your arms, Chester. Definitely don't want any hair there."

The smell coming off his chest was awful -- like burning hair and orchids. He scooped some more, applying it under one arm. He'd always thought his hair was densest there, relatively speaking, but he knew it was thin and wispy. As he applied the crème to his other arm, he jumped. Yvette had spread it on his pubic bone, her fingers coming down and around his balls and sac. At the same time, Hannah was rubbing it in the small of his back and down his buttocks.

"I'm not going to do that!" He heard her protest. He could barely breathe, the smell of the crème as it melted his hair away was overpowering.

"Chester will help, won't you, dearest?" He looked down. She had stopped applying the crème to his privates, motioning he should spread his cheeks open.

"What?" He could barely say the word. Her expression left him no choice. Reaching down, he opened his cheeks and felt Hannah spreading the crème down his crack. At the same time, Yvette had run her hand along the underside of his pelvis and he felt their two fingers meet.

Suddenly, a white glow began in his hole, getting hotter with each heartbeat until it was burning. He jerked, and felt Yvette's hand slap onto his shaft. Another stab of pain began to grow where he'd felt her fingers touch him there.

"Ouch! Shit! Shit, what's in this stuff? Ouch! Yvette! It's hurting!"

The two women moved back as he started jumping from foot to foot. "Get into the shower, Chester! Right now."

He moved quickly, turning the knobs as he entered. The blast of cold water on his shoulders and head shocked him, forcing an intake of breath. The vapors jumped into his lungs, burning him. He coughed and spluttered, the water now running hot. He felt hands turning him, spraying water on him, his eyes closed from the spray and pain. The smell began to subside along with the heat. He could still feel the stinging in his butt hole and along his penis and scrotum.

"You are two twisted kids," Lyssa commented.

Yvette was in the shower with him, her pajamas practically invisible now from the jets spraying. Her body, this close to him, not as naked as his, but even more revealing in some way, caused a new reaction. He felt another erection starting and moaned.

"Okay, Chester. Time for your legs." She turned off the spray and reached for the jar. Quickly she ran the crème down his front and back. He could almost feel the hair coming off before she'd finished one side. "Last rinse and we're done." Again the water and he opened his eyes to see his skin completely clear of hair. He cried.

"Shit, Chester. Be a man, for chrissake. Grow up."

He thought it kind of odd she was telling him to be a man, when she'd just removed what little bit of manhood he had. She might as well have had him cut his peter off. He sniffled, trying not to be so childish in front of these three women, but he was losing the battle.

She stripped off her pajamas, leaving them on the shower floor and grabbed two towels. He dried himself off and waited, watching her now, standing in the bright pink room as naked as him, but with one major difference: he was completely shaved from chin to toes. He noticed tufts of hair under her arm, and looking closely, hair on her legs. It wasn't fair!