Hallowiener Pt. 08

"Come on, dude, just one more game." Tommy howled in complaint.

"I can't. You know I have to be back to see my folks off on their trip." I said, looking down at my friend sitting crossed-legged in front of the console.

"Fine, but I'm coming over tomorrow and beating your ass."

"You couldn't practice enough in one night to beat me, Tommy." I poked my tongue out and pulled the door closed just before the cushion he threw at me had a chance to hit its mark. "See you tomorrow," I shouted through the door.

I smiled and licked my lips, still tasting my friend from earlier in the day. It was starting to get dark, and no lights were on in the house. So, when I turned for the stairs, seeing Becca standing in the hallway frightened me.

"You just can't get enough of the men in my family, can you?" Becca had a huge shit-eating grin on her face.

"Wha--what do you mean? I have no idea what you're talking about." I tried to walk past her, but she moved in front of me.

"One slut to another, those sloshing sounds you make are unmistakable. And you're not at all quiet."

I thought about protesting, but my mind couldn't find a valid excuse quick enough. "What do you want, Bex?"

"Straight to the point, good, men like a slut who doesn't skirt about the point. Follow me." Becca beckoned me over her shoulder as she walked off to her room.

"Stop calling me that." I tried my best to sound sincere, but in truth, being called a slut was quite a turn on. "and keep your voice down. I don't want Tommy to hear."

"Oh, you don't reckon my brother thinks of you as a slut already? Wake up, you big cock swallowing slut." Becca laughed lewdly as she pushed open her bedroom door and led me through. "Mr Pierce is going to flunk me."

"No way! Not another teacher. Forget it." I turned to leave, but Becca pulled me through the doorway by my jumper.

"It's not another teacher. It's Mr Hamilton, remember him. Remember that almighty pussy pounding he gave you across his desk?" She crossed her arms and smirked broadly at me.

"Hard to forget," I said as my head dropped reluctantly. "But why Mr Hamilton if it's--"

"Mr Hamilton is the faculty head of the whole department. He can review a student's work from any of the classes he oversees and remarks as he sees fit."

"And you want me to convince him to--"

"Give me an A, exactly."

In my head, I gave Becca's request a full minute of consideration. In reality, I answered almost before she had finished her last sentence. "Okay, I'll do it."

"Oh, I see. I won't call you a slut anymore." Becca walked past me towards her closet. "An eager slut is more fitting. You answered far too quickly to be considered a mere 'slut' anymore." She laughed.

Moments later, Becca stepped out from her closet holding a backpack and handed it to me. "Here."

"What's this?" I dropped it to the bed and pulled the zipper open. "What the fuck, Becca?"

The bag was full of girls things, two wigs, some heels, and a small makeup bag. "You'll need to do your makeup yourself on Monday. I can't make it. Unfortunately, I'd love to watch the show."

"I can't do that. Becca, please?" I pleaded, but her mind was made up. If I were honest, I was pretty happy to give it a try anyway.

"Put the lingerie on now. I want to make sure it fits. Your ass is fatter than mine these days. I'm quite jealous." Becca said, slapping my rear.

Protesting was pointless. I couldn't win. Becca could easily control me, and she knew it. I picked up the thong and matching bra and ran into her en suite bathroom, closing the door quickly behind me.

"Why so shy?" Becca mocked. I sensed her at the door as she began to whisper. "I've seen it all before, remember? I can still picture your little thingie flapping about when Dad bottomed out in your fat little ass."

My heart raced, and my entire body trembled as the memory of that night came to me. Seeing Becca sitting there as her father filled me with his roaring orgasm was an electrifying experience I will never forget, but she wasn't wrong. Becca had seen me in a way no one had ever seen me that couldn't be changed. I opened the door and stepped out into Becca's now illuminated room. "Fine." I sighed reluctantly.

Not wanting to prolong the embarrassment, I lifted my t-shirt over my head. I picked up the red satin bra and wrapped it around my midriff, snapped the clasp shut, fed my arms through the loops and shimmied the soft fabric up my chest. Becca nodded her approval, but I didn't wait. I yanked my shorts down, leaving them in a pile on the floor. Stepping over to the dresser, my little cock swung free. Becca let loose a little squeal of excitement. She was the only girl ever to see my cock, and the reaction was not one a real man would have appreciated. It was the kind of reaction a girl makes when you show her a puppy, kitten or something equally as adorable.

Becca looked me in the eye and smiled. I was hard; she knew I would be, it was pointless to try and hide it from her. Like so much of my new life, I embraced it. Picking up the panties, I allowed myself a moment to feel the soft fabric between my fingers. Looking at the thong, they were small, smaller than any I'd worn before. Not that they needed to be very big to cover my cock, but I might have still wanted a little more fabric. I couldn't lie, though; they were cute. I quickly pulled them on and stopped. I looked up at Becca when they reached the top of my thighs. "Should I wait? You know until it goes down."

Becca laughed. "Oh sweetie, don't you worry, they're all yours, so I don't care if you make a mess inside them. Besides, once Mr Hamilton catches a glimpse of those, I doubt they'll remain intact for too long. Now, give me a spin."

I pulled the panties the rest of the way up and tucked my little boner away. Ensuring the straps weren't kinked, I straightened up and gave Becca a quick twirl. Halfway around, I felt her hand on my shoulder, stopping me. "Fuck me, that ass! No wonder you get so much attention." She laughed and slapped my ass again. My cheeks flushed red, and I was about to add to Becca's comment when I caught sight of her face in the mirror. Her eyes opened wide, and she pushed me into the bathroom.

"Danny? You still here?" Tommy's voice chilled me to the bone. "I thought you were in a rush to get home."

Becca threw my t-shirt and shorts at me, and I scrambled to get dressed. "He's just helping me with my studies."

"Hey Tom, yeah, just helping Bex, but I think it's time I get going." I hastily pulled on my clothes and snatched up the bag.

"Call me when you get home, and we can go over what I want you to do. Okay?" Becca said as I dashed past. I didn't reply. I just ran out of her room and made my way downstairs.

Pulling the front door closed behind me, I finally allowed myself to breathe. Leaning up against the door, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. As my mind calmed, I was conscious of what I was wearing. The soft satin caressed my chest and cupped my boner like a gentle hand. The material was cool against my hotly flushed skin. I pictured Mr Hamilton and gasped as my eyes shot open, and my breathing quickened. "Let's get home, shall we?"

It was dark when I reached the park, and everyone knew that the park wasn't the place to be at this time of day. We'd all heard the stories of the older kids who would hang out there looking to cause trouble. I considered going around it, but that would mean adding twenty minutes to my journey, and I was already late to see my folks off. So, I decided to go through, but quickly.

I could see my street from where I was. It was no more than a hundred metres away through a patch of trees, so I quickened my pace. The streetlights flickered to life ahead of me as I reached a row of benches. A loud hollering rang out from behind me, and I turned my head sharply, trying to see where it had come from; I really should have kept looking forward. The action of turning my head spun me around in a full circle, I managed to keep moving forward, but as I turned back to face forward, I had to quickly step to my right to avoid colliding with a trash can. As I did, my heels clicked together. I scrambled to stay upright, but my speed and the freshly cut grass only helped to send me crashing to the ground. I landed with a thump just before I reached the trees. The backpack fell from my left shoulder, and I slid to a stop on my stomach.

I didn't need to lookup. I knew the strangers were there. I could sense the circle of eyes as they surrounded me. A familiar smell of tobacco smoke wafted about the small clearing as a soft muttering began to rise around me. "Hey, check it out. He is a dude, right?" The first unknown voice said.

"Seems like it, but maybe not like the rest of us." A ripple of laughter emanated from all around. I could tell the voices were close, but I couldn't tell where they were coming from.

It was this second comment that caught my attention. I was suddenly very aware of the cool evening air as it grazed my now exposed butt. I quickly knelt, lifting myself on my hands. My left ankle ached; I'd sprained it for sure. Pushing off, I managed to grab the hem of my shorts and pull them up over my thong covered ass before landing back in a kneeling position. I blinked and wiped the grass off my face. I looked from side to side and took my first look at the gang who had found me.

There was six of them in all--two in front of me, one to my right. To my horror, the other three were on my left, looking down at the strewn contents of my backpack. The heels and wigs were lying in a crumpled heap, and the makeup bag had opened, spilling its contents in a small pile.

"On your way to a party, were you?" One of the boys bent down and lifted a wig and single stiletto in each hand. "What do you think, guys? Redhead or blonde?"

The guy to my right snorted, "Gotta be red, matches the thong." The entire group burst out laughing.

I stood up, not wanting to say anything to rile the group up. "Can I have my stuff back, please?"

Another guy bundled the rest of the pieces up and stuffed them back into the backpack. "Sure, if you tell us what you plan to do with all this girlie crap."

The three guys closest to me moved closer still. I could feel one of them no more than a foot to two behind me. "I'm just helping a friend. Now, I have to go, my--my parents are waiting."

"Not the kinda 'help' I have ever seen before." One of the guys around me said, causing the group to laugh loudly.

"I never helped a friend wearing one of these." A voice called out from behind me.

A sharp pain lashed my waist and caused me to wheel around in a futile effort to deflect whatever had already hit me. "Stop, that hurts." I tucked the little straps back below the waistband of my shorts.

"Show us." The guy holding the backpack said.

My attention was firmly on the guy who just twanged my strap, so I didn't thoroughly pick up on what he said. "Huh?"

"You heard me. If you're helping a friend, show us how you intend to use these." He held up the skirt, a wig and heels.

"I can't--"

"Fine, we'll kick your ass, take all this shit and burn it."

"Fine!" I said, puffing out my chest.

"You sure about that? Darryl's mom is a hairdresser, and I'm pretty sure these things are expensive. Right, Darryl?"

The guy I presumed to be the leader tossed the red wig to his buddy, who took a moment to read the label, then let loose, with a long whistle. "Sure is. This one here would probably be two-hundred bucks."

"No fucking way," I exclaimed. "My friend would never--"

"You calling him a liar? You lying, Darryl?"

"Fuck no. You little bitch. You calling me a liar?" Darryl spun the wig on his index finger and stepped towards me.

The circle of guys behind me got closer, causing me to bump off two of them as I tried to back away from Darryl and the leader. "Of course I'm not--I would never call--"

"Well then," the leader said, smiling, "if you believe him, then whatever help you're offering is important. I highly doubt your friend would be happy if you lost close to five-hundred bucks worth of gear because you wouldn't satisfy our curiosity, would they?"

I replied, but my voice caught in my throat. "No."

"Pardon, I didn't hear you."

"No, Sir, they wouldn't."

The group looked at one another for a moment, smiling and a little shocked. Then they all burst into fits of laughter. "Sir? Fuck I like that. Now show us."

The leader dropped the backpack, together with the skirt and heels. Darryl handed me the wig. I waited for a moment, looking around at the circle of guys, trying to debate if running would be an option again. That was soon ruled out when I placed my weight on my left leg and felt a shooting pain through my ankle. Instead, I dipped my head, swished the wig downwards and put it on top of my head. With another quick flick of my head upwards, the fiery curls fell over my shoulders, framing my face. I closed my eyes and tried to gather the courage to continue. I knew what the consequences would be if I didn't, and the last thing I wanted was for Becca's wigs and heels to be burnt; They would cost me a fortune to replace.

With my eyes shut, I couldn't see the looks on the guys' faces, but shortly after I flicked my head, I could hear them murmuring. When I opened my eyes, the expressions were less derision and more of appreciation. I remember thinking to myself, "Was this really happening?"

I picked up the skirt and quickly fastened it around my waist. Once secure, I pulled my shorts down and let them shimmy down to the floor. By the few mock groans the guys made, they were hoping for a second sight of my thong. Perhaps they didn't fully believe what they saw when I fell, but I was not going to give them jerks a striptease.

Hooking my fingers into the straps of the two heels, I tried to limp over to a bench. The circle of guys quickly converged on me. "What? Do I honestly look like I can run from you? I need to sit down to put on the heels." I waited a moment, then pushed my way past two of them and turned to sit.

I felt the relief in my ankle the moment I sat down. I also felt the cold sting of the wood against my butt. A small ripple of laughter emanated from the guys when they noticed me shift uncomfortably on the bench. I just smiled, bent over, and slipped on my heels.

Once I was done, I looked up at the leader. I already knew his answer, but I asked it anyway. "There, are you satisfied now? Can I go?"

At first, he smiled at me, and for a split second, I thought I was going to escape. "Stand up, give us a twirl."

I shook my head, "My ankle is to--"

"Give us," his smile was still in place, but his voice was anything but pleasant, "a fucking twirl."

I sighed and held out both hands. After a moment's confusion, two of the guys took my arms and helped me to my feet. The grass was soft, which any woman will tell you, is not great for high heels, but it was firm enough to help me balance. I lifted my left foot, which was still aching and tried to spin myself around on the spot. Several of the guys began to spin me around, slowly at first but quickening. I wanted to stop them. I was getting dizzy. I put my left foot down to help me balance, and the pain was too much. It caused my body to convulse, and my knee buckled beneath me. For the second time that night, I was on my knees in front of a gang.

I took a moment to regain my senses; My head was spinning. Just like before, I raised my arms looking for assistance, but when it wasn't forthcoming, I looked up. Six men surrounded me with the same glazed expression I had seen countless times before. These six men had given up all pretence and were looming over me with a singular intention. I closed my eyes and said to myself, "You're wrong. You're wrong." But when I opened my eyes again, any misreading of the situation was gone. If their demeanour didn't give it away, their hard throbbing cocks poking out from their jeans certainly did.

My eyes darted from one cock to the next. For a moment, I forgot the situation. I forgot the peril of it all and found myself trying to choose who should go first. The leader should, shouldn't he? And I could now see why he was the leader. Darryl? I had almost called him a liar. Maybe as an apology, I should let him--my mind slapped me back to reality when the first of the cocks nudged my open hand. I quickly recoiled. "What the fuck, get away from me, you perverts."

"We'll show you who's the pervert!" The leader grabbed my arm and pulled me towards him, slapping my hand onto his cock. I knew I should stop, but instinct took over, and I gave him a couple of soft strokes, slowly resigning myself to the inevitable--

"I hope I'm not crashing your party, guys."

All seven of us looked up just in time for the brightest flashlight ever invented to light up the entire scene. And like cockroaches in a city apartment, they scattered in all directions away from the light. I stayed on my knees, shielding my eyes, partially blind and secretly a little bummed that my entertainment had been cut short.

"Are you okay?" The voice was calm and deep. I tried to focus, but the glare from the torchlight, now extinguished, lingered in my field of vision. I just nodded. "Good, here, take my hand."

I waved my hand in the general direction of the voice and felt a large gloved hand grasp it tight. My body became weightless as I was lifted off my knees with ease. I hovered for a moment, trying to balance my right leg. I placed my left foot on the floor, and the second I did, my leg gave way again, only this time I didn't fall; I was caught.

"Have you been drinking tonight, Missy?" I shook my head and winced as the pain tingled up my calve. "Good, I'd hate to charge you for being drunk in charge of stilettos."

My vision was slowly returning, but I couldn't see his face. I did, however, make out a sparkling blue eye winking at me and just the faintest hint of a smile. "T--Thank you, Sir."

"My name's Millar. Officer John Millar."

As I straightened up in Millar's steady grasp, I felt the jacket he was wearing. It was a Goretex style waterproof with a thick zipper. It was adorned with pockets and on his chest was the familiar metal badge of our local Police force.

I've never been one to judge a man's looks. It's funny, but everything I've ever done has been driven by necessity rather than attraction. However, as my eyesight cleared, I could see that Millar was hot. He could have passed for a model. A strong, square jawline beautifully framed his soft smile. His eyes were a light shade of blue and sparkled. That shade of blue almost looks like white until you take a close enough look. Short cropped dark hair, probably the desired style considering his job, but it suited him nicely. At first, I thought he was a stocky five-foot-ten, but then I remembered I was wearing four-inch heels. His stocky five-ten became a thick six-two; maybe more.

Millar stepped away from me for a moment but returned a split second later with my backpack. "I take it, this is yours, Missy?"

I wasn't sure if he knew I was a guy dressed as a girl, and he was playing along, or if he truly believed me to be female. In either case, I liked the way 'Missy' sounded coming out of his mouth; I wasn't going to stop him. "Thank you, Officer." I'm not sure when Danielle had decided to appear, but my voice was now a soft, seductive purr rather than my usual boyish drawl.

"Do you have far to go?"

"No, not far, just about five minutes, that way." I flicked my head in the direction of my street, steadying myself against him. I pressed my hands against Millar's broad chest.

"How about a Police escort, Missy?"

I beamed a smile and flung my arms around him, "My hero! Yes, please."

"Okay then, come along, Missy." Millar stepped away and began walking in the direction I'd indicated, leaving me wobbling on my heels. When I didn't follow, he turned back to me.