Raised By Strippers - A Trans Story

*** This may be the start of a new multi-part story. My stories tend to evolve, as I get to know the characters better. I start a story with certain ideas and directions, but I like to flow with opportunities, as they arise. I live my life like that, and I want my characters have the same ability to grow and change. As always, I welcome your input, especially with regard to character growth and story development. Thanks for reading ***

Chapter 1 My Story Begins

Hi, my name is Sam. It used to be short for Samuel, but now it is short for Samantha. I guess you can see where this is going. This change did not happen after some great memorable, life-defining moment. Rather, it was a slow evolution over years and I never even realized a change occurred. I know, that sounds impossible, but you have to understand my childhood to appreciate this. You see, I was raised by strippers.

Raised by strippers? What the HELL does that mean? Well, I am the only child of a woman named Channel. No that is not her real name. It is her stage name, but really the only name I knew her by, as I was growing up. I knew that her real name was Evelyn, but nobody ever called her that, especially in the dressing rooms of the strip clubs, where I spent so much of my early years.

I know what you are thinking. Spending so much time in the dressing rooms, where sexy, exotic women were always naked or dressing in erotic clothing, you are the luckiest guy in the world. Well, that is what almost ALL of my male friends always said. They never understood that it was just where I hung out. It was like the living room, where I sat around and did my home work and talked about my day. The people around me were not strippers to me. They were my extended family. They were the people I talked to about my problems, the people I came to for advice or compassion, when life knocked me down.

Maybe it was this lack of identification of female eroticism, that shaped my sexual identity or maybe I was just that I was born this way. I do not wish to get involved in the debate about nature versus nurture. I only want to tell my story, and you can draw your own conclusions. I have learned from countless arguments about this, that people will draw their own conclusions anyway. So, why bother? But, back to my story.

So, here I am spending almost all of my developmental years with only strippers for role models. I learned early on, how to apply make up, how to match the perfect wig with a certain outfit, how to move sexily in heels. You know, all the essential skills a young man needs, to succeed in life. Now, I laugh at how I thought all of this was normal, but at the time, I never knew anything else. Helping Aunt Sapphire touch up her face or grabbing a sequined G-string for Aunt Jade, was just an average evening at my "house".

Obviously, this was not my whole life. I did go to school and interacted with other kids my age, etc. However, I was shy, small for my age, and not good at making friends. So, most days, I just tried to get through the day, so I could run back to my safe space, and share my day with my "family". As a senior in high school life was not usually difficult to deal with, it was just that I was more comfortable at the club. Being 18 and almost I through with high school, my days were mostly uneventful, until they weren't.

I don't know how it is for other people, but there is a point when we go from feeling like everyone is my friend, to the feeling that everyone hates me. It also coincides with the transition to adult bodies, and the hormonal and emotional issues that go with that. As I noticed more and more of my peers getting taller and stronger, I felt like I was being left behind. I was slightly built to start with, and I never seemed to get that growth spurt that made all of the other guys look more like men. It added to my feelings of not fitting in, and feeling like I was definitely not like them.

Thank GOD, I could come home to my stripper family, where I felt normal. Yes, most of the women had large breasts, often augmented, but they were mostly slightly built and feminine, like me. I felt more like them and the girls at school, than I did like my male peers. They also accepted me and encouraged me to be and do what made me feel good.

Unfortunately for me, what made me feel good, was to dress in their costumes and pretend I was someone else. When I was dressed, I didn't feel like the misfit I was in my "regular" life. When I dressed, I felt like a confident performer, who could dance in front of crowds of cheering guys, and have them begging to be with me. It got to the point where I needed to put on at a sexy bra and panty set or sexy lingerie, to get that sense of empowerment and confidence, that I lacked when I wore my boy clothes. It got so bad, that I needed to start wearing at least a pair of panties under my clothes, just to feel normal and get through the day.

I never thought much about sexuality growing up, but apparently my peers spent a LOT of time thinking about this. Even though I didn't feel wrong wearing women's underwear under my clothes, I did take precautions, like waiting until I was alone in the locker room before changing, etc. I was aware enough to know, even though my stripper family accepted my choices, my peers at school would NOT. I got validation of this on the fateful day that I was running late to get to gym class and carelessly pulled down my pants with a few other guys around.

Even with all the other activities, conversations, and people hurriedly getting dressed, a pair of pink lace panties can make time stop. My first indication of trouble was when the guy down the aisle from me stopped like he was frozen and stared. Then there was another guy elbowing his buddy and pointing at me. Then after what seemed like an hour of silence, the jeering started. "What the FUCK? Are those girl's panties?" "Look at the fag." "I always thought something was off with that one." I am sure there was more, but I yanked my pants back up and ran out of the locker room as fast as I could. I never stopped to ask permission, but just ran from the school and all the way home.

My real home, you sickos. Did you think I actually lived at the strip club? Of course, I couldn't wait to get to the club later with my mom. I needed to feel normal again. I needed to have people I loved, tell me that I am not a freak. That there is nothing wrong with needing to dress in women's clothes. They were amazing, comforting and consoling me between their dance numbers and when they were not performing private dances, etc. They always made time for me when they could. They were also not afraid to ask me the hard questions.

"Why do you enjoy wearing wearing girl clothes?" "Do you feel comfortable wearing girls clothes or do you actually feel like a girl?" "Have you been with a girl?" Do you want to?" "Have you been with a boy?" "Do you want to?"

Now these questions are hard for any 18 year old guy at any time, but when surrounded by a group of concerned strippers, wearing thongs, push up bras, school girl outfits, and some wearing nothing at all; it was surreal. I was having a hard time finding answers to any of their questions, until one question resonated, "How did you feel when everyone was looking at you, with your pants down and your pink panties showing?" I answered with one word, "excited".

As I relived the experience for them, I realized that one of the things that made me run away, was that I immediately got hard. As I said earlier, I have not thought much about sexuality, but at that moment when I was exposed and all the other boys were looking at me in my panties, I felt an excitement that I never felt before. My cock is rather small, but it was large enough when I was so hard, for everyone in the locker room to see. My stripper family, never shy to say what was on their minds, were quick to comment that, none of them remembered ever seeing me getting hard, while hanging out in the dressing rooms.

After several of them exchanged knowing looks, they were quick to offer their thoughts on what this meant. "Don't worry baby, it is OK if you like guys." "Hell, I love the cock." "Mmmmm, yes girlfriend, I love to suck some nice big dick." "Don't listen to them, take your time and figure out what you want, what you need."

What did I want? What did I need? To be completely honest, I had no idea. The only thing I knew for sure, was that I liked the feeling I got with all of those guys looking at me. I needed that feeling. I was a late bloomer when it came to masturbation. Maybe it was the lack of privacy, often being in tight quarters, surrounded by strippers. Yes, I understand now, why that should have been a HUGE red flag, that I was not exactly straight. However, now I couldn't stop myself from finding a private place to stroke my small dick, while thinking about my classmates watching me strip off my boy clothes and reveal my sexy girl clothes. My fantasies grew. After a while, it was me in front of the whole class, stripping in the auditorium. Then it was me on one of the stages at the club, and I am dressed in the sexiest outfits, as I strip for a huge crowd of cheering guys. Then the sex dreams started.

I kept remembering Jade's comment, "Mmmmm, yes girlfriend, I love to suck some nice big dick." I started to think a lot about how it would feel to suck a nice big dick. I felt my own cock with my hands and wondered how it would feel in my mouth. I traced the veins and smooth head, and I wondered what they would feel like as I slid my tongue over them. I thought about how it would feel to have a cock filling my mouth. I imagined how it would feel to have another guy's cock in my hand, one much larger than mine. I became preoccupied with thoughts of stroking cocks and sucking cocks. It got so bad, that I started looking for things around the house to put in my mouth, so that I could better imagine the feeling.

I brought this up to my mother one night, as she was between dances. She looked at me, like I was a moron and said, "You realize you are surrounded by oversexed women, who spend much of their time, thinking about satisfying themselves or actually satisfying themselves? HELL, there are probably more than a handful of dildos within arms reach of where you are sitting right now. If you want to feel better what it's like to have a cock in your mouth, just ask and someone will lend you a dildo to try it out. In fact, I am sure many of them will get off on the idea of showing you some pointers." I am not going to lie, I was suddenly VERY hard at the idea of being showed how to really suck a cock.

Needles to say, teaching Sam the finer points of sucking cock, became the latest rage. Some of these girls made me blush, showing me what they could do with a 10 inch latex cock. It was intimidating, but very exciting, learning how to lick, how to suck, when and where to use my hands, when to squeeze a guy's balls, and most importantly, how to relax my throat to be able to take a cock all the way into my throat, without choking to death. I got a way better education in sucking cock, than probably ninety percent of all other girls. I am also pretty sure that I am way better at it than most girls.

In addition to learning how to suck cock, l also earned the fine art of taking cum. They taught me that some guys will like to cum on my face, while others will prefer cumming in my mouth. I learned how to stop in time, to take just the head in my mouth and lick the head, while stroking a cock. I learned how to not gag when cum hit the back of my throat. I learned how to swallow when I could, because some guys cum so much, that it can back up on you, if you let it. And very importantly, I learned that it is NO fun to gag so hard on a mouthful of cum, that you snort it into your nasal cavity.

The best part of my oral education, was that many of the girls had guy friends, who had no problems letting me practice my skills on them. The first time I felt a real cock, other than mine, and took it in my mouth, it confirmed everything I suspected. I love to suck cock. I love the feel of a cock in my mouth. I love how hard it is, but still soft enough to feel almost chewy. I love the smooth head of a cock, and how the ridge around it feels as I slide my tongue around it. I love the smooth, slick feeling of a guy's pre-cum, as I run it around the smooth cock head with my tongue. I love the feeling of surprise from a guy, when his cock pushes into my throat. I love the feeling of his hand grabbing my head and holding me there. And my GOD, don't get me started on the smells and and the heat of a cock on my face and lips, as I am so close to it, kneeling and ready to take it in my mouth.

OK, so now we are all caught up on whether I like the cock or not. Now I face the prospect of getting through the rest of my senior year, and figuring out what I do with this knowledge that I am apparently a cock hungry slut.

Chapter 2 Back to School

Although my stripper family had comforted me and made me feel better about myself and the things I was discovering that I needed in my life, I still had to figure out how to live my life outside of the strip club. For those paying attention, I basically ran screaming from school after accidentally outing myself in front of MANY of my classmates, in the high school locker room. The school itself was pretty great about it. My Mother talked with the Principal and explained what was going on in my life and he was very understanding; at least that is what my Mother said. He must have been, because I never heard anything about leaving school like I did. Well, I didn't hear anything from any Teachers or Administrators. My peers, that was a WHOLE different thing.

Walking back into that school, was one of the hardest things I ever did. I would say it was an exaggeration, that everyone in school heard about what happened and was talking about it, but I am pretty sure, that is exactly what happened. Even though I still went to school in my boy clothes, I felt like everyone was staring at me. Suddenly, all the confidence I got from my stripper family and all my pride in my new found oral skills, went POOF, when I faced the reality of being surrounded by my school peers again.

The confident dancer that wanted the world to watch her, was gone in a puff of smoke. In her place was the slightly built, awkward boy, who wanted to melt into the floor, rather than face the judgement of a bunch of high school seniors. Suddenly, the lace thong under my pants, that started my day making me feel so sexy and bold, now only highlighted my vulnerability, to this pack of wolves, who seemed ready to rip me to shreds.

It wasn't all bad. Some people actually approached me and shared words of support. However, it seemed like WAY more of them couldn't resist sharing their thoughts regarding the kind of guy who wears women's underwear and what they believe that kind of guy likes to do with other guys. Even many years later, I am not sure how I felt about those judgements. I mean it is hard to counter it, when I had been spending a LOT of time, learning the best techniques for sucking cocks.

Luckily, I didn't have many friends, so I didn't feel any more alienated than I was before all this started. On the positive side, as time went by, I actually started to have guys catch me, when they were not around their friends, and they took great interest in my sexuality. Some even asked if I wanted to meet on the weekend or after school and "talk", if that would help me. I quickly discovered that "talk" was code for seeing how it would feel, getting their cocks sucked by the freak that wears girls' clothes.

As it turned out, there were a lot more guys in my school, who wanted to "talk", than I would ever have dreamed possible. It also turned out that I did a LOT of talking, which is funny because I usually had my mouth full, and couldn't talk if I tried. As it turned out, most of these guys would rather talk to Samantha than Samuel, so Samantha came out to play more and more. In a way, it really helped me make the big emotional jump to finally coming to school as Samantha.

Because I had tied so much of dressing as Samantha with my sexual activities, it was hard to be Samantha in school and not be constantly distracted with my sexual desires and needs. On the plus side, once I embraced Samantha, I truly became a different person. I now walked the halls like I was walking out on stage. Now, all of the judgmental stares became the cheers of my appreciative fans, at least in my head. Samantha became so much more, than Samuel could ever be. She was even invited to a party thrown by the popular people, including many of whom were on the football team. I was actually going to a party with the popular crowd. Finally, I was going to be accepted. Or so I thought.

Trevor was a Senior like me, and he was apparently quite talented as a running back. I had absolutely no clue what that even meant really, but he was really hot and I was thrilled that he wanted me to go to the party with him. He told me how cute I was and told me to wear something really sex, so I could really WOW everybody at the party. After classes ended for the day, I was so excited and giddy, I almost ran to the club, to share my news with my stripper family, and solicit their advise on what I should wear.

Most of my club family were overjoyed for me. Of course there are always those who want to crush your joy. Jasmine was one of those people. She was the stereo typical, man hating, lesbian dancer; and yes, she was one of those that insisted that she is a dancer NOT a stripper. I don't want to be mean. I know that she had a lot of bad experiences with men. She was shit on by quite a few, and was even married to a guy, who was a HUGE asshole, who regularly beat her and even knocked her out a few times. She earned her right to hate men, I guess. I am just glad that she didn't see me as a man, and most of the times, I felt like she actually liked me.

Well, Jasmine warned me against going. She was sure that those guys were just going to mess with me and humiliate me. She said that guys are assholes and even the ones who want to be accepting and inclusive, will betray me, especially if their friends are around. Naively, I told her, that isn't the way it is; and that Trevor was DEFINITELY not that way. He seems like a really nice guy and I feel like he really likes me. Yes, I should have listened to Jasmine.

Instead, I listened to everybody else, who were much more focused on dressing me, like I was their personal, life sized Barbie doll. They tried all kinds of sexy outfits on me. Everyone had their own opinion of what I looked best in. The one thing they could all agree on, was that my butt looked amazing in thongs. I have to admit, my butt is round and firm with just enough flesh to make it move just right when I walk, and YES, it looks amazing in a thong. The red lace one, that they picked, looked even better. The way the color stood out next to my pale white skin, dividing my round butt cheeks, looks amazing.

Of course, a matching red lace bra was a must. The problem is, that the bra is one of Victoria's, and she is a full 34D. I am very slightly built and all of my bras are A cups. Fortunately, several of the girls had inserts that they wore when they were going for a fuller, bustier look, when they were dancing. This was not always a good strategy, especially when most dances ended with their bras discarded on the stage. However, some of them were like professional Magicians, and could drop a bra with falsies inside, and never miss a beat. I guess turning, bending over, and slapping your ass, has a way of distracting guys. Who knew?

OK, so now the underwear decisions were made. Of course everyone agreed that black stockings and a black lace garter belt completed the erotic look. Now, what to actually wear?