I am Number Four

It took a while to get to sleep that night. As hard as I tried not to, I kept thinking about what I'd seen that night. Owen and I had been friends for years, just regular guy friends, and the fact that this side of him existed without me knowing threw me for a loop. Had he always been like this and I just didn't see it? Had he been dressing for years and just hiding it, like me? Or had Vic somehow coerced him at some point and made him like it? My curiosity was almost unbearable, but I didn't have a clue how to even begin to broach the subject to Owen, or if I even wanted to. A big part of me just wanted to forget everything I'd seen. I was still chasing my own thoughts in circles when sleep finally took me.

Two days later, I'd finally managed to stop jumping in fear every time my phone rang or someone knocked at my door. Thankfully Owen was the only one to visit me, and he gave no indication that he knew I'd seen him with Vic that night. Everything seemed normal between us, but there was a tension just beneath the surface. I couldn't tell if Owen felt it too, but I did find myself examining him closely when he wasn't looking. I looked for any vestiges of makeup he may have missed, and at the waistband of his baggy pants to see if he was wearing panties underneath. Sometimes I thought I saw a hint of white lace peeking out above his boxers, but it may have been my imagination.

I flirted with the idea of just asking him, but decided against it. Even if he proved amenable to discussing it, it would definitely change things between us. And I didn't want that. I liked having my femme side and regular side separate, and Owen was definitely on the regular side. One thing was for sure-I wished that I'd just gone back for my phone in the morning.

It was comforting, though, Owen just hanging out with me like normal. We smoked, we watched TV and played Xbox, and all seemed right with the world.

But two days after that fateful night, I opened my door in the morning to find a suspicious box sitting outside my front door. Any hopeful thoughts I had about it being put there by mistake were dispelled when I read the card on top of it, which was addressed to me.

Alex,

I enjoyed meeting you the other night, even if we didn't get the chance to really talk with everyone else there. Owen's told me all about you, and I have a feeling you're someone I'd like to get to know. I hope you like my present, and I look forward to talking with you more soon.

Vic

I carried the box inside in a daze, cold dread seizing my heart and squeezing it tight. Owen had told him about me. What did he tell him; what did he know? Did Owen know I dressed? Would he tell Vic if he did know? Suddenly I wasn't sure of anything anymore, except that Vic was now actively pursuing me. That horrifying thought was confirmed a moment later when I opened the box and looked inside.

It was a pair of white panties, identical to the ones Owen had been wearing that night, with one obvious difference. There was a '4' on my pair, and the front had the word 'Sissy' printed on, in the same pink lettering as the numbers. I assumed Owen's had that too, but I hadn't seen his from the front.

The meaning of the numbers was clear now, though I'd had my suspicions before. Owen was Vic's third bitch, and he had already decided I was the fourth. It was probably safe to assume Quinn and Ashley were the first and second, though I didn't know the exact order. It didn't matter. Vic was well on his way to having his own harem of sissy white boys. It was like one of those interracial porn stories, only real.

I couldn't deny that part of me was excited that a man desired me in a sexual way, enough to have a pair of panties custom made for me. They were my size and everything, though how he could possibly know that I couldn't say. The submissive girl in me quietly exulted at the idea of being a dominant man's property and being labelled as such, while the man in me raged against it and the irrevocable damage this would do to my already fragile male ego.

Before I had anymore time to fret over it, my phone chimed with a text notification. My eyes widened as I saw the sender, labelled 'Daddy.' I knew Owen must have given Vic my number, and programmed him into my contacts when I wasn't looking. There was even a picture of Vic's fully erect cock next to his name on my screen. So Owen was definitely complicit in all this. Fuck.

So did you like my present, Sweetness?

I froze in horror upon reading this. He had my number, I had a picture of his cock in my phone, and he was calling me pet names now, like I was already his girlfriend. The game was already half over before I even knew I was playing, and I was losing, badly. This shit had to stop, now.

Look, sorry if I gave you the wrong idea somehow, but I'm not interested, ok? I like women.

I was shaking when I sent this, half afraid it would upset him. I knew I shouldn't care, but I didn't want to disappoint him, as insane as that sounded. His reply came back quicker than I expected, as if he'd anticipated my reaction.

Really? So I was imagining you standing at Owen's door, drooling on yourself while you watched me spank his sissy ass?

Shit, so he had seen me. Still, I'd had over a decade of practice hiding my inner sissy. I could do this.

I was just surprised, that's all! I didn't know Owen was like that! There, that sounded convincing. Right? Vic's response shot that all to hell with one word.

Bullshit.

I sat there silently fuming, composing countless angry retorts in my head. This guy just met me a few days ago, hasn't spoken ten words to me in the entire time we've known each other, and he dares to presume that he knows me?

You don't even know me! And if Owen told you I'd be into this then he doesn't know me either! You guys just play your perverted little games and leave me out of it!

There, I'd said it, in no uncertain terms. I was shaking worse than ever now, but I didn't know if it was from anger, fear, or excitement. My phone chimed again, bringing Vic's answer.

If you really wanted me to leave you alone, you would never have texted me back. Owen fought me at first too, but now he loves my black cock in his sissy pussy. You will too, trust me.

To my horror, I found myself getting hard at this last part. So he did fuck Owen, and Owen liked it. Even more troubling, it seemed that Vic wouldn't stop until he had me. And I was no longer sure I wanted him to stop. Because he was right; if I really wanted him to leave me alone then all I had to do was ignore his texts. But part of me liked the pursuit. I liked playing the part of the stuck up girl that played hard-to-get.

Damnit, I could feel control of this situation slipping away from me completely, and panic rose up sharp and hot in my chest. How did this happen? I've been here for less than a week, for fuck's sake!

You're thinking about it, aren't you?

Now I was shaking so badly that I could barely type out my response. In my desperation I dropped all pretense, and tossed out a verbal Hail Mary. Please God let it work.

Look, please, just leave me alone, ok? I don't wanna argue or play games with you, I just want to live a normal life. I don't know what Owen told you and I don't wanna know. Just drop it, please.

I waited, the silence in the apartment seeming to stretch into infinity, until finally the chime of my phone nearly startled me out of my seat.

Sorry Alexa, but I can't do that. You've got a sexy girl inside of you, and you need to let her out. Even if you don't want to.

Alexa. Damn it all, he was never going to let me go. In his mind I was already a girl, his girl, and nothing I said or did was going to convince him otherwise. I felt trapped, claustrophobic, as if there was no air in the room.

How many times do I have to say this? I DON'T WANT TO DO THIS! You're making me really uncomfortable, and I have to live here. So for the last time, PLEASE STOP IT!

I nearly threw my phone against the wall then, figuring if I couldn't see his response then I wouldn't feel compelled to answer. But my sensible side prevailed in the end, and I simply clenched it tightly in my sweaty, trembling hand, willing Vic to apologize or just drop it.

Mmm, I think you're my favorite so far, Alexa. So feisty! But no, I'm not gonna stop. I want you, Alexa, and one way or another I WILL have you. Best you get used to that.

"No, nonononononono, " I moaned, holding my head in my hands. So that was it, then. Short of moving out, there was nothing I could do to stop him now, and I couldn't afford to move again. If I kept fighting him, I would be forced to be on guard every second of every day. And not just against him, but against Owen, Quinn, and Ashley too. He would continue to assault me from every direction until I gave in, and the harder I fought the more he would want me.

I'd idly wondered, whenever I dressed up, what it would feel like to be a girl. To not only be allowed to wear these soft pretty things every day but to be expected to do so. To essentially put myself on display, all day every day, for the pleasure of my man. Now, thanks to Vic, it seemed I was going to find out firsthand whether I wanted to or not. I got a twinge in my chest when I thought of Vic as my man, and myself as his girl, one that wasn't entirely unpleasant.

I picked up the panties Vic had sent me and ran the material between my fingers, marvelling at its softness. These were no cheap panties, but high quality satin, definitely a cut above the cotton bikinis I usually wore. I wanted desperately to try them on, feel the luxuriant satin against my skin, but a small voice in my head warned me that once I put them on, I belonged to Vic for real. I jumped and nearly dropped them when my phone chimed again.

So what do you say, Alexa? You wanna be my baby girl? I'll be so good to you, and once you get this dick you'll never want anyone else.

I was about to type out an affirmative reply, but at the last minute my sanity reasserted itself. Maybe sometime in the future I would experiment with a guy, be a willing woman for a dominant man, but I wouldn't be forced into it. Not like this.

I told you, no. I don't want your present, and I don't want to be your girl. I'm not arguing with you anymore. This conversation is over.

I put my phone on silent then and set it on the table beside my chair. Later, when my blood cooled a bit, I would delete all of Vic's contact info from it and have a long conversation with Owen about personal boundaries. We might or might not still be friends at the end of said conversation, but he needed to know why what he did was unacceptable. Regardless of my fantasies I didn't appreciate being pimped out by someone who was supposed to be my friend, especially when I wasn't even properly moved in yet.

I sat and watched TV for a while, but I couldn't concentrate on anything. I couldn't even remember later what I was watching. I just kept running over Vic's words in my mind, and panicking at the fucked-up situation I was in. I had no illusions; I knew he wouldn't stop just because I was ignoring his texts. Guys like him got what they wanted one way or another, and I wasn't nearly strong enough to stop him, physically or otherwise.

Despite my...unusual habit, my ultimate goal was still to find a woman and settle down. That hadn't changed. But now I was being drawn deeper into a lifestyle that I wasn't sure I could come back from. If I gave in and became Vic's girl, I didn't think he'd be willing to let me go. I might not even want him to. And of course the part of me that still believed I was a man kicked and screamed at the idea of submitting to another man so completely. It didn't want to admit that I was so inferior to this man in nearly every conceivable way. Next to Vic, I was pretty much a woman already.

But as hard as I tried to stop them, my eyes kept flicking down to my phone, and the little flashing green light indicating unread texts. Every time that light flashed my stomach twisted with anxiety, but I also felt a little throb in my groin. It was all so confusing.

"Ugh," I growled out loud. I needed something to take my mind off all this. Maybe a nice hot shower, then a little nap, since I hadn't slept much since the incident at Owen's two nights ago. I got up and went into the bathroom, purposely leaving my phone where it sat on the table beside my chair. I wasn't even gonna look at it until I woke up later, maybe not even until tomorrow. Every time I started to calm down and forget my predicament, one glance at my phone and that blinking green light brought it all rushing back.

I took my time in the shower, letting the hot spray run down through my hair and over my smooth body. I sighed as the heat seeped into my muscles and gently massaged my tension away. But as I finished up and turned off the water, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and felt my stomach clench a bit. I'd kept myself smooth all over for a while now, and I was already naturally slim. The natural result of all this was an incredibly feminine look, which was, of course, my intention. But besides the flat chest and the utterly unimpressive penis hanging between my legs, it really could have been a girl looking back at me from that mirror.

Then an image of Vic's naked body swam unbidden into my mind. His broad, muscled chest, his swollen biceps that were nearly as big around as my legs, and most of all that thick snake between his legs. That was a man, not this slim, hairless creature looking back at me from my mirror. Maybe I was fooling myself, thinking any woman would want me with men like Vic out there. It was hard to believe I belonged in the same gender as him. Maybe I didn't.

I thought about what Vic had said to Owen, about white boys. It was something I'd wondered about before, whether black guys were naturally more dominant and masculine than white guys. The whole truth was obviously going to be much more complex than that, but just going by my personal experience Vic seemed to be right. All the black guys I'd ever met were full of bravado and machismo, fit and physically imposing. By contrast, most of the white guys I knew were smaller and more low-key, like myself and Owen. Some of this was undoubtedly because I gravitated more towards people like me when it came to friends, and I certainly hadn't seen enough of life to pass my own experience off as objective truth.

There was also the possibility that it was just something I wanted to believe. I wasn't attracted to men, generally, but something about dominant black men really did it for me. When I first started watching porn I almost exclusively stuck to lesbian videos, and I still enjoyed those to this day. But as I got deeper into crossdressing I started watching gay videos. Mostly interracial ones, with black guys in the dominant role. And when I got myself off it was always black men I fantasized about, bending me over and taking me like a bitch. It really turned me on, thinking that black men were superior overall to whites, and that I had no choice but to submit to them. Whenever I pictured the ideal man in my own mind it was always a black man, muscular and chiseled, glistening with sweat, with a huge bulge in the front of his tight shorts.

I realized even then how all this sounded, especially when it's all put out there like that. It sounded ridiculous, saying I wasn't attracted to men while I was all but salivating over black guys. Maybe I was gay, or bisexual, and just in denial about it. It was all so confusing, and I usually tried not to think about it too much. I grew up in the South, so anything outside of normal heterosexual behavior was, to say the least, strongly discouraged. I already felt like a deviant freak just because I was a crossdresser, so becoming a black man's sissy toy seemed like ten steps too far.

I hadn't realized how lost in thought I was until I started shivering. I was still naked and wet, and more than a little turned on from imagining all those hard black men in the porn videos that I loved. I was both aroused and ashamed to see that my little penis was smaller when fully erect than those black monsters when they were soft. I remembered one video in particular, with a white guy that was built very similar to me. The black guy in the video had made the little white twink wear panties while he sucked his cock, and told him that since his little thing could fit into the panties that was where he belonged. That was what I liked to think about myself, that having a little dick wasn't a biological misfire, but a sign that I was meant to be on the other side of the sexual equation.

I dried myself off quickly and headed straight for my closet, to the bags in the back where I kept my girly things. I needed to get myself off, and I hardly ever did it without wearing something feminine. I had something specific in mind, and I found it without much trouble. A matching pink bra and panty set, by far my favorite color, and a little pink Tinkerbell t-shirt. The panties were bikini-cut, which was my personal preference. I put the panties on first, while I was still soft enough to tuck myself back, and then the bra. I stuffed my breastforms into the padded cups of the pink bra, then pulled the tight shirt on over it. Normally I would've gone farther and put on a skirt, maybe some leggings, and shoes, either heels or knee-high boots, but I was impatient today. Plus, this seemed like something an actual girl would wear around the house if she were alone.

I laid down in my bed and pulled the covers back so I could feel the cool air caress my bare skin, and started running my hands over my body. I started at my belly, at the strip of exposed skin between the bottom of my shirt and the waistband of my panties, and slowly worked my way up to the soft breastforms cradled securely in my bra. They felt so real, and I thought for the thousandth time how worthwhile a purchase they had been.

I moved my wandering hands back down, over my heaving chest, down to the flat front of my panties. I always tucked myself back when I dressed, every single time. I'd seen enough on the internet to know that not all crossdressers did that. Some of them liked seeing the bulge, some just didn't know how to tuck properly, but I had to. I was a perfectionist, and I needed to look as much like an actual girl as I possibly could every time I dressed or I couldn't enjoy it.

Then I got tired of teasing myself and slid one hand down between my legs, to firmly rub my tucked-back dick through the soft fabric of my panties, while the other caressed my smooth thigh. I suddenly found myself imagining the hand on my thigh was Vic's, and that he had his strong arms wrapped around me while he ground his throbbing erection against my ass. I could practically feel the warmth of his hard body pressed against my back, and his hot breath on my neck as he pulled me back against him. That was enough to push me over the edge.

"Ohh, fuck me, daddy," I sighed softly as I flooded the gusset of my pink panties with my sissy juices. When it sunk in exactly what I'd been thinking about and what had slipped out of my mouth I nearly came again, my hole spasming uncontrollably as I imagined it being filled by Vic's thick cock as he shot his enormous load inside me. Thinking of being bred by that big black stud made me feel faint and weak and I found myself sagging back on my bed, too tired to even peel off my cum-soaked panties. I was asleep in less than a minute.

I was awakened a short time later by a loud knocking at my door. I didn't actually register what the sound was at first; my mind was still foggy from sleep. But once it sank in I got out of bed and half-stumbled toward the door and pulled it open to find Vic on the other side. He looked me over with a raised eyebrow and an odd smile on his face, which made me realize with horror that I was still wearing my girly shirt and panties.