tagTranssexuals & CrossdressersVicky's Pink Diary 01

Vicky's Pink Diary 01

byLeggyVicky©

There he is sat on my bed, my Uncle, Uncle Creep, well that's what I call him. I'm just staring in shock as he flicks through it.

"Put that down, it's private," I manage to blurt out.

"Don't worry, you poor little thing. I've read it right through a few times. I won't tell anyone, Vicky, isn't it?"

I'm shaking in horror, my diary, my pink diary with all my secret thoughts and wishes, my fantasies, and things I've done, embarrassing things. Well how many 18 year old boys get a kick out of wearing their and their stepmother's underwear and dresses? How many boys write things like that, and how many boys write about the thrill of pretending to be a girl?!

"I'll be back in half an hour, and if you are a good, girl, and show me Vicky. You'll get your diary back. I want you in everything, makeup, clothes the whole lot."

"And if I don't?" I ask, barely able to breathe.

"Then your stepmother gets the diary when she comes back from her holiday. I'm sure she'd be disgusted by her pervert stepson's thoughts about wearing his stepmother's clothes."

He walks past me and I visibly recoil. He smirks and says, "See you soon, Vicky."

My real mum died ages ago. My dad remarried, and then he ran off after just a couple of years, leaving my stepmother Jenny to bring me up. She soon found another man, and they married, and grudgingly brought me up. I was going to tell Uncle Creep, she already knew, she did, she came home one day, and caught me in her clothes. She laughed at first, and then she called me a little pansy, and a queer. She called my stepfather into the room, and I can still feel the sting from his belt on my ass to this day.

"I, I'm going to need a little longer."

He stops at the door and looks back, "Okay, seeing as how I'm looking after you for the next three days, you get an hour. But you had better be looking good, because we are going out for a walk."

It took me nearly 5 minutes to uproot myself. Going out was that much of a shock, but I've done it in the dark, at three in the morning when the rest of the house was sleeping; even then it was just going round the block, praying I was the only one around at that time. It was so scary, but so thrilling, wearing a skirt, hose, and heels, a coat, wig and makeup, and feeling the cool air and blowing gently on my shaved legs was out of this world. Yes it was that good, but it took all my willpower to actually creep down the stairs, go through the back door, down to the gate, and then into the alley that runs along the bottom of our garden. But once I was on the pavement, once I heard my high heels leaving the crunching gravel and hitting the tarmac, I was in heaven!

Uncle Creep would get one hell of a shock when he saw me. Okay I was dreading going out, but it was already getting dark so I had half a chance to pull this off, get my diary back, and then........and then.....what?

My fingers shook as I applied my makeup. They always did when I was going out at night. I fussed over every little mistake I made. I don't really know why because it was never my intention to be seen, well not close up so someone would notice the smudge of mascara, or the lipstick that had strayed from my lips. One man did see me once. He was a tramp sheltering in an arch way. I had to go through that very arch way, or risk going through the town centre, where even at 4 am there would be the odd drunk or the street cleaners. The tramp, saw me before I saw him, I jumped a mile when he asked me for a cigarette. In the dark with my umbrella up hiding my face, I managed to get my cigarette packet out and give him one. He puffed on the cigarette, and I watched his eyes roll up my legs. A hand came out, and from his position sat on the ground against the wall, he ran his hand up my leg. He groaned a little and asked me what I was doing out so early. I couldn't move let alone speak. He grunted coughed and then chuckled. He told me not to worry, as a lot of women messed around behind their husband's back. I was wearing a wedding ring just to complete my look, and he must have seen it. His hand stroked my leg and as he started to go higher so I pulled away. But at that moment that was when the thing about being a transvestite took on a whole new meaning. To have a man, even a tramp touch my leg, just helping him self to a feel stirred something in me. When I got home, I played the incident over and over a thousand times. Trying to recapture the thrill and shock, the excitement and horror, which I felt when his hand slowly stroked my leg.

The next day I felt awkward and even disgusted with myself, but even that night, when I wore a slip stolen from my stepmother's laundry basket to bed, I wanted to feel that hand, any hand, any male hand stroking my legs and thighs as if I was a real woman!

I even went back to the alley now and then, hoping to give the tramp another cigarette, and more importantly for me. A chance to grope what he thought was a cheating wife!

So here I am, waiting for my uncle to take me out for a walk. I wonder if this is something he has decided on to shame me into not dressing as a girl, or could my Uncle Creep be just like my tramp?

For the next few minutes I stand checking everything, over and over, in the full length mirror that I had to buy myself, because my stepfather thought it was, "weird," for a boy to have one in his room.

Now Vicky is staring back in the reflection, in a blonde wig which had cost me a fortune from one of those TV shops, (more on my visits there another time,) was combed and in place. My makeup was pretty good too, I've practiced enough, and picked up tips from the afore mentioned shop. Mascara, eye liner, and a lovely red lipstick, stolen from my stepmother completes my face. A few little squirts of perfume too, but just a hint. My black bra is stuffed with tights to give me some tits. My matching panties are in place, and black tights on my shaved legs makes me feel wonderful underneath. Over the top is a white jumper, soft and sexy. And a black mini skirt, which stops halfway between my knees and the tops of my thighs. If I was on my own I'd hitch it up a little more, hell, a lot more!

I only have two pairs of shoes, high heels of course, which I've practiced walking in, and I needed the practice. But now I swing my hips quite confidently, and the sound of those heels clicking on anything, makes me feel so sexy!

I slip my black knee length coat on.

"You won't need that."

I've been so wrapped up in my dressing and makeup ritual, that I had forgotten just what is about to happen. I watch as my uncle, my stepmother's brother chucks my pink diary on my bed. I watch it bounce on the quilt until it stops.

"So, we aren't going out then?" I ask feeling a little relieved.

"Oh yes Victoria, we are going out, but you won't need your coat."

My heart sinks, my hands start shaking, and my mouth gets stuck trying to shoot words out.

"You look pretty good, I must admit. It is dark out, and there won't be many people about. Bedsides according to your diary, you love the thought of men eyeing you up and those long legs, well, I'm sure if anyone is around, you'll get your wish. Now Uncle Creep as you refer to me in your diary, just wants to go round the block, maybe we'll bump into that tramp, the one you wrote about, and said you fantasised about him making you sucked his cock, because you cheated on your husband."

"H...how do, you, know about, that? It isn't in my diary."

"No, not that one, but I've found your other diary."

"Oh my god!"

"And number three before you ask. It was quite a good hiding place, in that trunk in the shed, but fancy keeping the combination written in your first diary. As soon as I found your old bike chain looped through the trunk handle, I knew I had found your second secret hiding place."

"Have you...read...everything?"

He grins at me, and nods. I slump to the bed. All of my fantasies have now been shared with the man I call Uncle Creep, some fantasies even involving him!

"I particularly like the bikers, who dragged you in the tent at that music festival, which was quite a dirty little episode. Now there was six of them if I recall correctly, and such nasty things they did with their dirty little tranny. Then of course there are those little fantasies involving me."

"I'm sorry..."

"Don't be Vicky. I'm just making your fantasies come to life. I can be even more disgusting, and much more of a bastard than even you write about."

Suddenly the horror of my uncle finding out, how I want to suck his cock, and have him fuck me in front of his friends, and then offer me round fades into the background.

"Do you mean, what we are doing, tonight, are the things I have written about?"

"Vicky, do you remember what you wrote about me taking you to the canal, by the pub?"

My eyes are open wide and my trembling increases. He chuckles at me.

"Don't worry Vicky, I don't think my friends will be there waiting to gang bang you. No, we'll just go for a walk, like uncle and, niece...or in your words, whore and master."

At least it is raining when we get outside, just that fine drizzle which seems more of a mist. My umbrella is enough to cover my face, when I need it to. But I've never been out this early, just gone 10.30 on a Sunday night. I'm trying my best to keep calm, but this is so unreal I have to think about every step I take. My Uncle has the only key to the house. Mine is in my jacket, behind the front door. What if he drops dead or something? What if he has forgotten his key? What if I just jump out in front of a passing car and kill myself? At least I won't have to go through the humiliation of being found out. Yes I'm scared, I'm very fucking scared!

"Put your arm through mine."

What the fuck does he think I am? Okay, in my diary I would, but this is real life, can't he see that?!

"Victoria, it will help steady you, and that way we can walk at your pace, unless you want to lag behind?"

He has a point I suppose. He keeps calling me Vicky or Victoria too, I guess I should be grateful for that, but I can't help thinking he is doing it to humiliate me. I grip his arm.

"Yeah that's fine, but not so tight, I won't get any blood to my hand."

"Shit...sorry."

"Vicky, you are supposed to be a girl, at least sound like one. Like you said you had practiced in your diary."

Fuck, he has read everything! Maybe I should just settle for saying nothing, so I do, until we see two men in the distance coming towards us, "We're going to have to cross over, please uncle they'll see me."

"Oh and what was that quote you mentioned several times in your diary, about wanting to get leered at?"

"Hell that was just my fantasy...please Uncle."

He guides me over the road, and I still can't relax, until the men have passed by.

"There, that wasn't so bad was it? You passed with flying colours, and, I bet you are wondering if they looked, aren't you Vicky?

"I don't care...I just want to go home."

We walk on down the road, we haven't even got out of my road yet, and I still want the pavement to open and swallow me up. We go to cross over and have to wait for a car to pass. I look the other way and gulp, and start whimpering.

"Hey isn't that your friend Sean, looks like he's going to visit you. Maybe he'll give you a lift home. I can wave him down if you want?"

"Don't you fucking dare," I half screech.

He chuckles as we cross the road.

"And don't mention anything about what I want to do with Sean. This is bad enough."

"Oh is that in your diary too?"

"You know it is," I hiss.

"Well, I lied, I haven't read it all; I can see I've got some more reading to do."

I huff and we walk on, down the slope that runs between the old factory and the football field, and then down to the canal. By this time my heart has suddenly stopped trying to boil my blood by beating my chest to death. I won't say I'm relaxed, but I have got over the shock, probably until the next one comes along.

"Um...did those men, look?"

He chuckles again, "Yes Vicky, they looked back at you, and I don't think they suspected a thing."

"Oh, well, that's okay then."

"Yes, I think you'll be making another little entry in your book about tonight. Now down by the canal, under the bridge back up the other side, and then up the alley and in through the back door...unless you want me to buy you a drink?"

"No, I just want to get home please...were you serious about the drink?"

"God no, but there are a few pubs and clubs that I could take you, but we'd have to go to London or a big city for that...anyway, you have written about them, so you know what clubs I'm on about."

"You, you've got...your hand, on my...ass."

"Didn't I do that in your fantasy when I walked you down to the pub?"

"Yes...but..."

I don't know why but I haven't stopped him touching me. Well I do know why, but I'm just finding myself rather confused at the moment. The last hour has been like a nightmare, or rather, like my dreams. Being dressed as a girl does come into my dreams when I'm a sleep sometimes. Sometimes I'm at work, wearing a skirt, serving customers and I know I've been seen, but the way people react differs from dream to dream, sometimes I'm trying to hide, sometimes it seems I have no option but to carry on. Always in the morning when I remember the dreams, good or bad, I like them. Right now my uncle has rested his hand on my ass. I can feel it roll with each step, and it feels just as I had written about in my diary, humiliating, yet thrilling!

Even so, I'm still nervous, and I still want to go home. I'm staring at the bridge we have to go under. I want to ask if we can go back, but if I do, will he remember what I had written about that bridge in my pink diary?!

"Maybe we should go back now, please?"

"Good god no, not yet."

My heels echo as we walk under the red brick bridge. He takes my hand and pulls me to a stop. I know now he has taken in every detail, which I have written.

"Do I get that kiss now?"

I shake my head, because I can't seem to find the words. He pulls me back to the shadows and leans against the wall of the bridge. The two foot gap between us is quickly closed as he jerks me to him. Our bodies touch and he puts his hand round my waist.

"Isn't this what Uncle Creep did to you, in your diary? Now kiss me, Victoria."

I swallow hard and move my lips to his. He pulls my waist, squashing me against him again. Our lips touch and his grey beard scratches my face, just like I imagined it would when I wrote about it. Even now I feel like the helpless girl I yearn to be, forced by my cruel uncle to do such things as this.....and worse!

He forces his tongue in my mouth and my slight struggle becomes more forceful. He grips me tighter and his tongue goes deeper. Why I don't just knee him in the balls I don't know, but Vicky wouldn't do that, Vicky would just have to accept what was happening...so I do!

Part of me wants to let go to the fantasy I have written about in my bedroom. But I just can't do it....or can I?

He doesn't let off the kiss, and his hand starts tugging up my skirt, until my ass in black panties and tights feels the cool air. I renew my struggle but that soon stops when he forces my hand down to his dick. I gasp and try to stop and pull away. But he holds my hand against his hard cock, his hard cock which is out of his trousers, and naked, in my fucking hand!

"Jerk me, or your stepmother gets the diaries."

What can I do? This is so cruel, and yet, just what I've wanted, just how I've written about being treated so many times. I jerk him, I jerk my first ever cock, apart from mine that is. My hand is squashed between us, but I can move it enough to hear my bangles jingle on my wrist. He is still kissing me hard, and the feel of his beard is humiliating me like I guessed it would.

I've stopped struggling now, and my uncle is feeling my ass. Not my ass, not Kevin's ass, Vicky's ass. Kevin would have thumped him by now, although he isn't really that sort. I have to tell myself I am Vicky, this is Vicky kissing and jerking her Uncle's dick. This is Vicky letting Uncle Creep explore her mouth with his tongue, and groping her ass. Yes, I'm Vicky, the girl I always wanted to be, this is me, Vicky, doing this. Kevin doesn't exist when I'm Vicky. I turn into her as soon as lock myself in my bedroom. Kevin has fucked three girls, Vicky is a virgin, but such a slut at the same time, an unwilling slut though, and that is how Vicky likes it to be.

"Slow down," is hissed in my ear.

My hand slows and I'm wondering why the hell I've been jerking him so quickly in the first place!

Then I hear it, feet approaching along the path. Panic starts to run through my mind. My uncle keeps me there kissing me and groping my ass. The feet go past, two pairs of shoes, one belongs to a woman. The other pair is not so loud, a man I think, and then scurrying feet, a dog it must be a dog.

I'm still kissing and jerking my uncle. My uncle is still groping my ass. The fear starts to evaporate, and after a few seconds I turn my head slightly to look at the owners of the shoes, and the dog who are now off in the distance.

"Yes they looked, and all they saw was a couple making out under the bridge. Not like in your pink diary is it though? Not the men that watched you suck me off, and then joined in?"

The fear is back now, does he expect me to get to my knees and suck his cock!

"Please Uncle, don't make me do that...please don't."

He grins at me with a wicked glint in his eye, "I won't Victoria.......NOT HERE!"

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