Comfort Women Ch. 02

Sam looked stunning in her slim-fitted pencil skirt suit but she was so ungainly and unsteady on her feet that she walked like a new born foal. Wendy gave Sam some pointers but there wasn't time to train her in the womanly arts. She'd gathered some accessories and snapped clip-on earrings onto Sam's earlobes, put a necklace around her neck and bracelets on her wrist. She gave her a clutch purse that complemented her suit.

"I've put your keys, cigarettes, handkerchief and some makeup in the clutch," she explained, slamming the purse into Sam's belly so that she instinctively gripped it.

She looked down at her red nailpolished fingernails, past her tight tummy, down the line of her skirt to her shapely legs and her feet shod in the high heels and actually felt that she looked pretty good and very feminine. The hem of her skirt tickled her legs and felt delightfully decadent as the lining swished on her nylons. She could taste her lipstick and smell the perfume that Wendy had doused them both with.

Sam actually felt very feminine. It was very strange and unsettling but somehow comforting and it was just for one day. It was just a lark; a tease, a prank forced on them by a couple of bullies. It was just for one day. Just for one day, she kept repeating the mantra in her head over and over.

"Just for one day. It's just a prank," she spoke aloud without intending to.

"That's right Samantha; it's just for one day," Wendy said as she took Sam's hand and led her outside the department store.

But Wendy wasn't so sure. She knew that she looked very fetching dressed enfemme but Sam looked absolutely stunning and sexy without realising it. She hoped that the others were just pranking them because Wendy had witnessed some shocking things in the alley out back of the Pink Parrot nightclub. But there was no need to scare Sam. Sam was much younger then she very inexperienced and naive. Wendy saw it as her job to protect the ingénue.

As Sam and Wendy approached The Copperlode they could hear the raucous noise of men having a good time. Bill Haley was singing about rocking around the clock, men were laughing loudly and bottles were clinking.

When Sam and Wendy walked through the door, Sam leaning on Wendy because she was still unsteady on her feet, the noise stopped abruptly. Someone silenced the duke box and the four men just stared at the two beautiful women.

When Bill Brody had ordered Sam Steele to 'show up wearing those fucking clothes or else I'll beat you into them,' he had expected to see Sam and Wendy dressed like a couple of pantomime artists, not these two convincing sexy women.

"Christ on a fucking crutch," Buddy Flintock whispered.

"What the fuck?" Victor Benning stood with his mouth agape.

"Ok ladies. Get to fucking work. Clean this joint up and get us more drinks," William Brody needed to justify to himself and to the others why he had made Sam and Wesley get dressed like this.

Having gone years without seeing women, certainly not up this close and personal, the men were fascinated by Sam and Wendy. They looked feminine, they smelled feminine and some of the men bet they felt feminine. They found it best to forget all about Samuel Steele and Wesley Meakins then they could just believe that Samantha and Wendy were real.

"Get busy. The busier we are, the less chance we have of having to play grab-ass with these guys," Wendy began to clear tables and empty ashtrays.

"What do you mean 'play grab-ass'?" Sam asked, confused and still shell-shocked.

"These guys haven't seen women for the whole of their incarceration. We aren't real women under these clothes but the more they drink, the more they are libel to forget that," Wendy pointed Sam towards the bar where she took up station.

Sam worked the bar and Wendy worked the room bussing tables, cleaning ashtrays, sweeping the floors and dodging wondering hands. The men marvelled at how presentable the women were except for Bill Brody who now regretted making them dress up. He hadn't wanted this. The men were treating Sam and Wendy like they were real women and they were supposed to tease, belittle and bully them.

Dale Snitterman had put some tater tots in the oven and hotdogs in the broiler and Sam plated the snacks and took them into the bar to feed the men. Buddy and Victor pawed at her and Dale laughed at her predicament. Wendy came to her aid but she too was molested.

The men pretended it was all a joke but to Sam it didn't feel that way. There seemed to be genuine malice and lasciviousness in their actions.

"Why are they behaving this way?" Sam asked Wendy when they went outside for a smoke break so they could be alone.

"I warned you this might happen. Men who haven't been seen women for such a long time are libel to put aside their aversions and let their imaginations and their ardour take hold, especially if they've been drinking," Wendy lit up a Salem and offered the pack to Sam.

She lit up and was amused to see her lipstick stain the filter of her cigarette.

Sam looked confused and annoyed. She actually enjoyed wearing the clothing, the underwear and nylons felt delightful against her body, the skirt tickled her knees, the makeup tasted lovely, even the high heels were pleasant to wear now that she was getting used to them but the men's reaction to her was unexpected and alarming.

"Look when we and my friends performed our skits on board the USS Polari the sailors enjoyed the shows but some of them took it a little too far after the show," Wendy pretended to study the end of her cigarette.

"What do you mean they took it a little too far?" Sam sounded alarmed.

"Those men were fighting a war far from home and were far removed from female comfort and didn't know if they would make it back. Three gorgeous women were entertaining them and some of those men chose not to differentiate between us and real women," Wendy admitted.

"What do you mean?" Sam sounded shocked.

"You know what I mean. Don't be so naïve," Wendy was starting to find Sam's naivety a little tiresome.

"Look. Like you said this only for one day so let's just get through it and move on ok?" Wendy regretted snapping at Sam and gave her a hug.

"Ok Wes, I mean Wendy," Sam giggled.

Wendy slapped Sam on the ass as she turned to go back inside and Sam laughed dizzily.

"Here they are! Let's dance ladies," Victor Benning grabbed Sam and Buddy Flintock grabbed Wendy as they came through the door.

Sam stutter-stepped onto the small dance floor pulled along by Victor whereas Wendy was quite the accomplished dancer and was soon cutting a rug with Buddy. Victor held Sam awkwardly at first, his alcohol-fuelled bravado dissipating now that he had Sam in his grasp but as he gazed into her beautiful green eyes enhanced by the dark makeup and her full red lips he just saw a beautiful woman and nothing of Sam Steele.

Victor pulled Sam closer and inhaled her perfume, nuzzling her neck as they shuffled around the dance floor to Love Letters In The Sand. Sam felt awkward and out of place being held by a man who up until recently had been a fellow inmate and was known to be particularly cruel to her. She went along with it, feeling Victor's hand on her slim waist holding her tight while she automatically placed the fingers of her right hand between the thumb and first finger of Victor's left hand and he gently closed his fingers over the side of her hand.

She had heard the quote about Ginger Rogers dancing backward and in high heels and at first she was clumsy and graceless but despite his rough exterior, Victor was quite the dancer and he led her around the floor and made her feel at ease. She looked over and saw that Buddy was holding Wendy tight and his hand was on her ass. She didn't seem to making any attempt to move it either.

The evening just kept getting more bizarre. Buddy and Victor insisted that the girls sit with them and entertain them which Sam had no clue how to do but she looked so pretty that neither Buddy nor Victor cared; they just wanted to look at her and touch her.

Wendy kept them entertained, telling stories of her days performing drag at the Pink Parrot and of the exploits of the customers and the queens. She was careful never to break the illusion that they were real women, always referring to the queens in her story in the feminine vernacular and when talking about Sam and herself she also used feminine pronouns.

Sam would get up to replenish drinks and pass around snacks and Wendy would clean up glasses and empty ashtrays but Buddy and Victor insisted that they return to their table as soon as they had finished their chores.

Dale Snitterman watched the whole thing with amusement. He took Sam for a turn around the dance floor but he was polite and treated her respectfully. Sam could tell that he was bemused by her and Wendy; he studied them both and engaged with them but made no attempt to touch either of them. He joined them at their table and listened to Wendy's stories and jokes.

The respect that Dale proffered the two ladies was not matched by Buddy and Victor who as they got drunker, got bolder. Victor started by stroking Sam's legs under the table. At first she didn't know what was happening, she just felt this soft sensual sensation on her leg which felt quite nice. She quite liked the feel of the nylon stockings on her legs and the flutter of her skirt on her knees but this was something more sensual and demanding.

When she realised that Victor was stroking her legs she paled and froze then she carefully extracted his hand and put it back on the table. He insisted they dance again and he attempted to kiss her while they were dancing but she rebuffed his advances but he held her tight and squeezed her ass which she could do nothing about. Wendy was no help because she was letting Buddy kiss her and feel her up without protest or rebuke.

When they returned back to the table Dale Snitterman was sitting with one leg crossed over the other with a shit grin on his face.

"You all make lovely couples," he chuckled and Buddy and Victor laughed along with him.

Sam offered to refill everyone's glasses as an excuse to get away.

She poured a double whiskey and a draught beer, put them on a tray and took it over to Bill Brody who was sitting alone just watching the spectacle.

Sam put the drinks down in front of him, picked up his empty glasses and turned to walk away.

"You two think you are hot shit don't you?" Bill grumbled, obviously drunk.

Sam had had enough and she spun around and stood in front of him with her hand on hips. Her pose was very reflective of an angry woman but she wasn't aware of it; it came intuitively to her. What she didn't realise was that she was subconsciously affecting femininity without really thinking about. She felt like a woman dressed as she was so she mimicked feminine gestures. It came easily to her, without forethought or effort.

"What on earth do you mean Bill?" Sam was angry.

She'd been made to dress up as a woman and behave like a woman and the men were treating her like a woman and being a little brazen with their advances but she could put up with that. She wouldn't admit it to herself just yet but she quite liked being dressed this way and was enamoured with how she looked but Bill was being obtuse.

She pulled back a chair and sat herself across from him, fuming.

Bill admired the way her green eyes lit up when she was angry. Her face framed by the brunette bangs was more than pretty in the heavy makeup; she was gorgeous and she filled out her suit nicely and those legs went on for ever. Bill had been erect on and off all evening just watching her, jealous of Victor when he danced with her.

But he would never tell her that.

"What's your problem Miss Steele?" Bill sipped his beer coolly; looking at her over the rim of the glass.

"My problem is you calling Wendy and I hot shit. You made us dress like this. You made us perform for you, pretending that we are girls. You were probably hoping the men would taunt us, tease us, maybe put a little beating or two on us but your plan seems to have backfired," Sam said heatedly.

"The men seem to like us and enjoy our company and no harm has been done. Also I doubt this is supposed to be part of the study or experiment or whatever you call it. This is just bullying and harassment," Sam began to seethe.

"Allow me to respond Samantha," Bill smiled at her wickedly.

This was not the first time she had been called Samantha and she didn't mind it; she quite liked the name.

"Let's not ignore the fact that you and your chubby sister seem to like dressing like a couple of floozies a little more than I expected you would, although I knew it was nothing new for Miss Meakins. You however have surprised me. You are fully transformed and quite feminine. I'd never guess that it was Samuel Steele under that skirt," Bill took another sip of his drink.

"I have to say that that the men's reactions to you both surprised me and I admit that my plan I had has backfired. Yes I was expecting that the others would tease and belittle you but after some consideration I can understand why the men are taken with you both," Bill lit a cigarette and passed it too Sam and then lit one for himself.

"As to how this fits into Flagg's study, that's for me to know and you to find out. Put it in your diary, I'm sure Flagg will be amused when he reads it," Bill tapped ash into the ashtray.

"But for now just entertain the troops. Just be a zhenshchiny dlya utekh," Bill said with a perfect Russian inflection.

Sam just glared angrily at him and stood up and snatched up the tray. She turned and was about to walk away.

"One more thing Sam," Bill said and Sam turned around.

"You have a great ass in that skirt. Wendy was right; that suit fits you perfectly," Bill chuckled and turned to his drinks.

Sam flushed with anger but underneath her flaming ire she accepted the compliment.

As it was Saturday the Copperlode stayed open until midnight and at midnight Wendy, Sam and Dale ushered the others out the door and Wendy and Sam cleaned up the bar and Dale cleaned up the kitchen, leaving the two women to lock up.

"Well that wasn't so bad was it?" Wendy said sitting at a table with Sam sipping a nightcap.

"The clothes and makeup are quite nice; I could get used to them but my dogs are barking in these shoes," Sam kicked off a high heel and massaged her toes.

"I'm glad it was only for one night though because it became very uncomfortable a few times there with Victor. He kept putting his hands under my skirt and he tried to kiss me several times and my ass feels like melon on a fruit stand that has been squeezed far too many times," Sam allowed herself to laugh.

"Oh stop your whining; it's all part of it," Wendy countered.

"Well you didn't seem to mind one bit. In fact Miss Wendy Meakins you were quite the hussy!" Sam couldn't help but burst out laughing and Wendy joined her.

The two women locked the bar and let themselves out back.

As soon as they entered the alley they knew that something was wrong. Buddy Flintock blocked one end of the alley and Victor Benning the other. Sam tried to unlock the rear entrance to the Copperlode but fumbled with the keys in the dark and dropped them.

The women didn't stand a chance and Buddy pinned Wendy up against the wall almost instantly. Sam was a little more athletic and made it a few yards down the alley before Victor caught her and pushed her against the wall.

He fell on her, pinning her small frame against the clapboard with his muscled torso. His hands went straight to her skirt, hiking it up despite her protests.

"Let me see them legs bitch," Victor pawed at her.

"Stop Victor; there's nothing to see there. It's all an illusion," Sam cried.

"Is it fuck! Look at them sexy long legs in those slinky nylons," Victor had managed to hike Sam's pencil skirt up her thighs so that her long legs and slim thighs were on display in the lamplight.

Victor stroked Sam's legs and she felt the same way she had in the bar when he had done it earlier. It was alarming but somehow soothing and sexy. When his fingers came to her white rayon high-waisted panties she began to struggle again.

"Don't Victor; you know what's in there and you won't like it," Sam protested.

"I don't wanna see what's in there I wanna see them pretty panties snug around your pussy above those black silky stocking tops," Victor stroked her stocking welts and then the front panel of her panties.

"It's an illusion Victor," Sam pleaded.

"Illusion this sister. You keep struggling and I'm going to hurt you," Victor thrust his fingers between her legs which she was keeping tightly closed and squeezed her penis which was lying limp along her perineum.

The pain was fleeting but incredibly excruciating. While Sam gasped for breath and recovered Victor put his mouth on hers and kissed her. Sam began to turn her head and Victor thrust his hand between her legs again and Sam stopped struggling.

She returned the kiss and when Victor used his tongue on her she reciprocated. Sam hadn't kissed anyone for so long she had forgotten how wonderfully sensual and soothing it was. She forgot that she wasn't actually a woman or that Victor was forcing himself on her and put her arms around his neck and kissed him passionately.

When he squeezed her ass she didn't complain, his fingers massaging her buttocks through her panties felt quite nice. She knew what she was doing was wrong but she justified her actions to herself by alleging that Victor was forcing her to do these things and if she resisted he would hurt her, which in itself was in fact true.

Victor squeezed and pawed Sam's buttocks for a while and then he placed his hands back on her thighs and began to stroke her legs. His kisses were getting hotter and Sam's cock was becoming uncomfortably cramped between her legs but she had no intention of freeing it. She let Victor fondle her legs and the front of her panties while he kissed her and she kissed him back hoping that what they were doing would sate his lust.

She didn't even flinch that much when Victor freed his penis and began to rub it on her nylon-sheathed thighs. She was expecting him to do so and her plan was to encourage him and let him sow his seed on her legs. It was better than any of the alternatives, the likes of which she didn't want to think of.

Sam stole a glance sideways and saw that Wendy was kissing Buddy Flintock quite enthusiastically and to her horror she saw that she also had Buddy's erect penis in her hand and was stroking it while he crushed his body against hers. She had a leg hooked around him and he was massaging her thigh whilst she massaged his appendage.

Sam tore her eyes away and concentrated on kissing the muscled black man who had her pinned to the rough clapboards. She was like a damsel in distress in the Saturday morning flickers but there was no hero to come to her rescue.

When Victor slid his meaty appendage between Sam's thighs she closed her legs around it and kissed him more fervently, hoping that she could trigger his climax. She could feel the dampness of his pre-ejaculate staining her stockings and god help her, the feel of his hot manhood between her thighs was making her concupiscent. She could feel her cock pushing against the sleek fabric of her panties.

For a man out of practice, Victor was a good kisser. He pressed his lips to hers and slipped his tongue in and out of her lips and then explored her mouth. The more he did this the more Sam liked it and she kissed him fervently in response. Their kisses were hot and heavy and Victor was holding her tight, fucking her legs, his cock trapped between her thighs, warm, meaty, pulsing and ready to come.

Then Victor looked over to his pal and saw that Wendy was on her knees fellating Buddy and doing a very good job of it. Buddy had his hands on her shoulders and was thrusting his cock in and out of Wendy's mouth as she sucked it like a lollipop.