I am Number Four

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New sissy finds his calling.
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I stood silently in the middle of my living room, surveying my very own new apartment with a weary satisfaction. I still had boxes of small stuff to unpack, dishes and books and the like, but the furniture and appliances were all in place, and the heavy lifting was more or less done. I felt a warm glow of pride as I saw it take place before my eyes, my first place that was all my own. The first step on the way to having my own life as a grown man.

One of my friends from back home, Owen, lived in the building too, and was actually the one who'd turned me on to the place to begin with. It was a stone's throw from a nearby community college, so a large proportion of the tenants were college aged, mostly guys. Here where I lived, on the fifth floor, there were no less than six guys around my age, including Owen, who lived two doors down the hall from me.

I personally didn't go to college. I'd picked up some freelance writing gigs for various blogs and websites that, while not enough to allow me to live in the lap of luxury, were enough to provide for my modest needs.

I sighed heavily as I saw the sizable pile of boxes that still needed to be unpacked and pulled a bottle of cold water out of the refrigerator. I took a long drink and leaned back against the counter. Fuck it, I decided. The chair and sofa were sitting there waiting for me, the TV and sound system all hooked up and ready to go, and the rest of this stuff could wait until later, or tomorrow.

I plopped down into my plush recliner and turned on the TV. A warm, lazy feeling flowed through me as all my muscles started relaxing at once. I didn't even care what was on, as I could feel myself start to drift off within minutes.

A knock on the door startled me awake. I took a glance at my phone, my fuzzy mind calculating that I'd been asleep for about an hour. I hauled myself to my feet, still feeling a bit groggy, and opened the door to find Owen standing on the other side. His short brown hair was as messy as usual, and every part of his appearance embodied the stoner lifestyle, from the perpetually goofy grin he wore to the baggy jeans and Korn t-shirt that hung off his skinny frame.

At 5'9", both of us were the same height and similar builds, but I wore my hair long, usually in a ponytail. Partly because I couldn't be bothered to get a haircut, but mostly because I liked the look and feel of having long, flowing hair. I kept it tied back most of the time, but when I was at home alone I would spend hours playing with it, and would linger in front of the mirror whenever I went into the bathroom.

There was also another reason I enjoyed having long hair, a secret reason that I'd never share with anyone. I'd loved wearing girl's clothes since a young age. Something about the look and feel of soft cotton panties and dresses felt more right than my own clothes. Sadly, I also understood that it wasn't normal, that it made me different, and not in a good way. I knew I had to keep this side of myself hidden.

I wasn't bothered by the secrecy, though. Not really. I'd always been a very private and reserved person, and being the slightly effeminate guy that everyone ignored suited me just fine. I dressed in my room by myself with the door locked, gradually progressing from only panties and dresses to skirts, bathing suits, and shorts, then eventually to full outfits.

But it didn't actually become sexual until I was about thirteen. It had always been fairly innocent before then. I just liked the soft fabric and the bright colors, and indulging my inner girly-girl with no one around to judge. Then puberty hit, and the rest, as they say, is history.

But I feel I should clarify something at this point. Despite my obvious gender issues, I wasn't attracted to men in the slightest. I found (and still find) women to be gorgeous, exquisite, and overpoweringly sexy. My personal style en femme is based on what I find attractive on women.

I still dress to this day, and it promised to be much more fun and liberating now that I had my own place to do it in. Instead of hiding in my bedroom I could wander the entire apartment dressed, spend days at a time in feminine attire. But I hadn't thought of unexpected guests, and Owen's unannounced arrival drove that point home in the most direct fashion imaginable. I was just thankful I wasn't dressed now.

"Oh, hey," I said, reaching out to shake Owen's hand on instinct, still not fully awake yet. "What's up, man?"

He looked past me into the half-furnished apartment and frowned a bit as his eyes landed on the pile of boxes waiting to be unpacked. "Well, I was coming over to ask if you wanted to come over and chill, but I guess you're not done unpacking yet."

I waved a dismissive hand in the general direction of the boxes and scoffed. "Nah, fuck that shit, man," I told him with a short laugh. "I'm done for today. I was just watching TV."

Owen grinned. "Nice," he replied, stepping through the doorway so I could close the door. Once it was shut he pulled a fat joint out of his pocket and stuck it in his mouth. "The guys are already at my place, so we'll just blaze this shit really quick and head over there."

"Sounds like a plan," I agreed as I watched him fish a Bic lighter out of his pocket and light it. I noticed, to my puzzlement, that the lighter was decorated with a very girly design, white and pink hearts on a bubblegum pink background. He probably just borrowed it, or stole it, I thought. People steal lighters all the time without even meaning to.

I put it out of my mind as I watched him puff on the joint a few times before passing it to me. I was definitely the last person that should be judging a guy for being a little effeminate, if that was even what was going on. Owen didn't seem to notice anything was amiss, just leaning casually against my counter and trying to blow smoke rings.

I drew deeply on the joint, holding in each hit until it felt like my lungs might burst, and soon my head was swimming. I passed it back to Owen, and we went back and forth like that for awhile without speaking.

I was a little nervous, though I would try not to let it show. I was always shy about meeting new people, and I was about to meet three of them. All guys, too, so one of them would most likely be one of those alpha males that always made me feel so weak and inadequate.

"Alright, we should go," Owen finally said, which definitely got my attention. Owen was one of those irritating people who won't hurry for anyone, who think nothing of showing up to work half an hour late. I loved him like a brother, but no one would ever call him punctual. So to hear him suggesting we hurry was unusual in and of itself, but also because he sounded a bit nervous himself. "Don't wanna keep the guys waiting too long."

Once again I decided to let it go. It was probably nothing, and if it was something I didn't wanna get involved. "Okay, let's go then." I grabbed my keys, wallet, and phone, and followed Owen down the hall to his apartment.

His furniture was set up much like mine: one couch and one recliner, but his TV was a lot bigger. True to Owen's word, his friends were already inside. The two on the couch were slim and white, much like Owen and myself, and I paid them only enough attention to not be rude. He introduced them to me as Quinn and Ashley.

Quinn was a bit taller than Owen and I, perhaps 5'10", but was just as skinny. His hair, what I could see of it, was dirty blonde. He kept it in a tidy buzzcut and wore a green throwback hat with a pot leaf emblazoned prominently on the front.

Ashley was a proper blonde, with medium length, immaculately-groomed hair. His clothes, a white button-down shirt and a pair of skinny jeans, were similarly impeccable. He struck me as a stereotypical gay guy, but I didn't comment on it. I didn't care if he was gay. He was a bit shorter, at 5'6", but it seemed to suit him somehow.

The last guy in the room, however, couldn't have been more different. Vic was black, muscular, and at 6'3", significantly taller than all of us. He was occupying the only chair, and gave me a curt nod when Owen introduced us. Clearly he was the alpha I had been dreading. I took a deep breath and seated myself on the couch, as far away from Vic as I could get without making it obvious I was avoiding him.

"Owen, why don't you go get us some beers, man?" Vic said. His tone sounded casual, but I detected an undercurrent of menace in it, and the other three guys exchanged nervous glances before a second glance from Vic spurred Owen into action. He scurried into the kitchen without so much as a glance back at us. I didn't want to look at him too long, but I definitely saw something flash behind Vic's eyes before he returned his attention to the football game on TV.

Something about Vic made me deeply uneasy, and I began noticing more and more little things as the evening went on that only cemented that feeling. He requested more things later—more beer, snacks, an extra pillow- and Owen was always quick to comply. Owen sat on a folding chair in his own apartment while Vic made himself at home in the recliner as if he owned it. Whenever he spoke, the other guys were scrupulously careful to listen closely and not interrupt, and they always waited until they were sure he was done talking before they replied. Vic naturally controlled the remote, and gave me a severe, almost angry look when I asked if I could find something else to watch.

The atmosphere in the room was so tense that I was sure something would snap any moment. Vic held court in his recliner like a king, and the rest of us huddled quietly like frightened animals, terrified of drawing his wrath. Something fucked up was definitely going on here, and I wasn't sure I wanted to know what it was.

This went on for a few more hours, though the unbearable tension in the room made it feel like a lot longer. I saw Vic give Owen a subtle nod and cut his eyes toward the door. It was deftly done, and I doubt I would have noticed if I hadn't already been looking. Owen stood up and announced that it was getting late, and he needed to get some sleep. The rest of us, eager to get away, didn't argue and filed out of the room quickly, murmuring our farewells. Vic got up, but made no move to leave the apartment, which was another red flag. But I didn't care, I just wanted to get home.

"Shit!" I swore softly when I got home. I had reached to take my phone out of my pocket so I could charge it only to find it gone. Owen's apartment was the only place I'd been tonight, so it had to be there. But I didn't want to go back and chance meeting Vic by myself.

I stewed in my anxiety for about ten minutes before finally concluding that I was being ridiculous. I was a grown man now, and it was time to start acting like it. I needed my phone, so I had to go over there and get it. Case closed, end of story. I marched down to Owen's apartment and knocked before I could talk myself out of it.

There was no answer, but I tried the door and found it unlocked, so I eased the door open and slipped inside to try to grab my phone without alerting anyone. But I heard odd noises as I walked further into Owen's apartment. Sharp slapping sounds, followed by very feminine whimpering noises. Did Owen have a girl over? I ventured closer to his bedroom door, opened just a crack, where the sounds were coming from, hoping to catch a glimpse of this girl. What I saw struck me into one of the very few speechless silences I have ever experienced.

Vic sat on the end of Owen's bed, stark naked, his enormous tool hard as a rock. But the thing that really shocked me, that made my brain grind to a dumbstruck halt, was Owen. He was dressed in a frilly, bubblegum pink dress with a white lacy petticoat beneath, with a long, blonde wig done up in pigtails. His face was fully made up with dark eyeshadow and pink lipstick, and his body was draped over Vic's lap. Vic had Owen's skirt hiked up around his waist and his white lace-trimmed panties pulled down far enough to expose his smooth, white bottom, and was spanking him hard with his big beefy hand.

"You don't disrespect me in front of company, bitch!" Vic snarled, slapping Owen's bare ass hard enough to leave red handprints. Owen was choking back sobs, but evidently knew better than to resist. He was whimpering from the pain, and my heart went out to him even as my hard cock was tenting the front of my jeans.

"I'm sorry, daddy," Owen pleaded, evidently very familiar with this position. "It's just that Alex was here, and I didn't want to make him suspicious."

"I don't give a fuck about your excuses," Vic told him, slapping his ass harder. "When I tell you to do something, you do it. If I tell you to go over there to Alex's right now and suck his cock, you'll fucking do it. You know why?"

"Because I'm your bitch, daddy," Owen answered immediately. Vic made a small noise of approval.

"Good girl," he praised, and gave Owen's burning ass a possessive caress. "Now get down on the floor and take care of this shit." Vic gestured toward his iron-hard cock, straining proudly toward the ceiling like a towering monument to his overwhelming masculinity. Owen didn't hesitate.

He fell to his knees on the floor, not even bothering to pull his panties up. His poofy skirt dropped back into place as he took his daddy's black dick between his pink lips and started enthusiastically bobbing up and down. It was obvious he'd done this before, judging by how much of that impressive tool Owen was able to get into his mouth. Within moments Vic's swollen ebony balls were grinding against his sissy's chin as he forced all 9 ½ inches down Owen's willing throat over and over.

"Fuck yeah, take that black dick, you little white sissy bitch," Vic moaned, lifting his hips off the bed now to make better use of Owen's wet mouth. "All you white boys try to pretend you're men, but you love black cock even more than your girls do. This is where you all belong, on your knees in front of a real man."

Owen's only response to this was a deep, feminine moan and a quickening of the tempo of his sucking. Whether he knew he wasn't supposed to answer or he just wasn't willing to take his daddy's dick out of his mouth long enough to speak, I neither knew nor cared. I was so turned on by the spectacle in front of me and Vic's casual denigration of Owen's (and my) race, I was willing him not to stop. For some reason, I wanted to see this big black stud fill my friend's feminine mouth with his seed more than anything.

"Mmm, I'm about to cum, sissy," Vic moaned again after a few more minutes of Owen eagerly slurping on his cock. "You know the drill. Swallow every drop or you're going right back over my lap."

The kneeling sissy nodded his understanding as best he could without halting his sucking. Vic was apparently satisfied with this response. He closed his eyes and leaned back, keeping one hand on the back of Owen's head to maintain the rhythm.

"Here it comes, bitch!" Vic gasped. Owen immediately pulled back until only the head of his daddy's cock remained in his mouth. Vic groaned loudly and his hips bucked as he erupted, filling Owen's girly mouth with his hot sperm. I could see the muscles in my friend's throat working frantically to swallow it all.

I marvelled at the sheer volume of this stud's load. Even on my best day mine were nowhere near that big, and going by the miniscule bulge I'd seen in the front of Owen's panties when he'd knelt on the floor it was probably much the same for him. Maybe Vic had a point about white boys. I knew that Owen and I were pretty pitiful specimens of masculinity compared to him; that much was obvious.

Owen managed to swallow Vic's entire load without much difficulty, making me believe more than ever that he'd done this before. Vic patted him affectionately on the head like a good puppy as he pulled his semi-erect cock from his sissy's mouth. The bright pink stains from Owen's lipstick were clearly visible on his black shaft, and I found myself strangely fascinated by that little detail. It was like the perfect visual indicator of my formerly heterosexual friend's complete and total submission to this superior man.

Then Owen abruptly stood up, thankfully facing away from the open door, and pulled his panties up to cover his abused bottom. When he did, I saw a pink '3' silk-screened on the back of his panties. I wondered briefly what it could mean, but that flew out of my mind when I saw Vic's eyes move toward the door. A tiny smirk crossed his face when he looked at the place where I stood watching, and I darted back in a panic. I shot into the living room, grabbed my phone from where it sat on Owen's couch, and fled back to my apartment, closing and locking the door behind me.

I stumble-walked toward my easy chair and collapsed into it, my mind reeling and my stone-hard erection throbbing in my pants. I was still in utter disbelief that I'd seen what I'd seen. It was so surreal. Owen had never been a paragon of masculinity, but he'd never shown any leanings in the femme direction either. I'd certainly never imagined him as another man's sissy plaything. But considering Vic's attitude and demeanor, and the fact that he outweighed Owen and I by at least sixty pounds, it was entirely possible, even probable, that Owen wasn't a willing participant. At least that's what I told myself.

The truth was that the idea of Owen being a willing sissy for a dominant alpha scared the hell out of me. If it could happen to him, then I, the guy that was mostly a sissy already, didn't stand a chance. I'd felt Vic's animal magnetism, and the submissive girl in me reached out for it, yearned for it in a primal, uncontrollable way. It didn't matter that I didn't know or even like the guy, that actually seemed to make it worse. As big, forceful, and masculine as Vic was, I knew I would be his for the taking if he so chose. All I could do was hope that he was satisfied with Owen and decided he didn't want me. A foolish hope, I knew, but I clung to it anyway.

I tried not to dress up that night, bound and determined to reassert my own masculinity in any way I could. I watched car shows on TV, pounded all six of the beers in my fridge one after the other, and lounged in my boxers piss-drunk. But my smooth and baby soft skin mocked my efforts, and my long chestnut hair spilled over my narrow shoulders as if to drive home my essential femininity. Images of Owen bent over in his candy pink sissy dress, his pale white ass a sharp contrast to Vic's chocolate brown legs beneath him, swam unbidden into my addled mind.

I wondered what had happened after that. Vic was still semi-hard when I'd run out of Owen's apartment, so I doubted that they'd stopped at a simple blowjob. I felt myself getting even harder as I pictured Owen bending over in that dress and being fucked hard by his black daddy. Surely there was no more feminine act in the world than being taken by a man like Vic. It was almost frightening how easily I could imagine myself in Owen's place.

The idea of being in that sexy dress and bent over a man's lap was enough to push my pulsing cock over the edge and I shot a huge load onto my bare chest and belly. I barely restrained myself from crying out from the force of the orgasm. I could even feel the muscles of my sphincter clenching slightly, as if begging to be filled.

I lay there in the afterglow of the strongest orgasm I had ever experienced for about ten minutes, give or take, until the warm stickiness of the cum on my body started to irritate me. Even more irritating was the fact that the only thing handy to wipe it off was my discarded shirt from earlier. I wiped off the drying jism the best I could, then filled up the kitchen sink with hot soapy water so I could soak the shirt before the spunk on it set in. I took a quick shower to get the rest of it off my body, then washed my shirt by hand and hung it on the balcony to dry.