Raised By Strippers - A Trans Story

My Mother actually suggested I wear one of her school girl outfits, since it was a high school party. Almost everyone groaned at that idea. Yes, my Mother pulls off the sexy school girl like NOBODY else, but it is DEFINITELY not the look for any event outside of a strip club or the bedroom. After that, and trying about a thousand different outfits, I settled on a nice black spandex skirt and red silk blouse. It was just the right level of sexy, without being over the top.

I look at myself in the mirror and I see saw no sign of the awkward, petite boy that nobody cared about. I see a woman that is a knock out. This is the first time I have seen myself with real tits. I am only 5'3", so with my thin waist, full round butt, and now my large bust, I look like a living sex doll. I am not kidding. I am amazed at how absolutely fuckable I look. I like it. The final touch, is a long, wavy, auburn wig, that perfectly matches the outfit and my pale skin.

Although I am already very talented at doing my own make up, I can't stop the girls from "helping". My GOD, it is like they all want a part in getting me ready for my big date. As mean spirited and petty, as strippers can be amongst each other, they can also rally together, and be as supportive as any family. I feel like crying at that moment because I feel so loved. Of course, I would NEVER cry and ruin this amazing make up job, LOL.

I drive to the party on my own, because Trevor said he had to pick up beer and food to bring. The party is at a place in the State Park, that has these old cabins. I am not sure if we ever had permission to use the cabins or if it is just something that people do. This was my first real party, so I have no idea what is normal. All I know is that I am so excited and nervous, that I feel like I will pee myself.

It is easy to find the cabin that the party is in. There is music blaring from it and it is the only one with light on. They aren't really lights, but more like candles and lanterns. I think that this gives the cabin a very romantic feel. It also makes it very difficult to see who is actually there. Many of these people are not people I am very familiar with anyway.

As I am getting adjusted to the low light in the cabin and trying to see who is there, someone yells out, "Hey look, the main event is here." My first thought is, "What the Hell does THAT mean?" My second thought is, "Why am I the only girl here?"

I don't have time to ponder these things, as I am quickly grabbed and held up between two very big, strong guys. "Look at the FAG," one guy says. "Yeah, look at what he is wearing," says another. "Fuck, look at the tits, though," says someone else. "DAMN, he looks better than your girlfriend David," says someone else. "He definitely looks like he came to fuck, that's for sure," says another. That is the thing that worries me most, especially when it is followed by so many agreements that YES, I am there to fuck ... and fucking is what I get ... LOTS of fucking.

Now, I want to make it VERY clear. I had NEVER fucked or been fucked by anyone before that moment. Also, I had no intention to break that streak, when I went to the party. I had seriously considered sucking Trevor's cock by the end of the night, but I had not even let my mind touch on the concept of fucking. I hadn't even considered if I could or would want someone to try putting a cock in my butt. Now it seems I am not going to get the choice, and I am quite certain it is going to be WAY more than just one.

I am not sure how long they turn me around in front of them and comment on my clothes, my heels, my underwear, my tits, etc. Time seems to warp around me until I hear the words, "DAMN, look at that ass ... that is a VERY fuckable ass." This is when I wake from my fog, and realize that my skirt is being pushed up, and my full round ass, separated by that sexy red lace thong, is on display for this crowd of hungry men.

It is at this point, that I am pushed and bent over forward, as someone grabs my face and pulls my mouth onto a rather large cock. Maybe it is the fear of what is going on around me or that I am finally faced with something I can wrap my head around, but I immediately start sucking the anonymous cock. I am good at sucking cock, and there is a sudden comfort, in the familiarity of having a cock in my mouth. It is like a pacifier to a scared baby. And I suck my pacifier VERY well.

I think that was the only way I was able to distract my mind from the inevitable feeling that I am going to be raped. However, distracted is a far cry from immune to pain. When that first cock is shoved into my virgin butt, I SCREAM around that cock in my mouth and I am sure I am going to die from the pain.

When I felt the spit covered fingers pushing into my butt, getting me ready, I convinced myself that it wouldn't feel that bad. How bad could it be really? People do it all the time, right? However, with that first stab of pain, I realize just how bad it can be. Apparently, I am the only one troubled by my pain. In fact, I think the guy in my mouth actually enjoys the feeling of my screams around his cock. And scream I do, a LOT.

At some point, I stopped screaming. I can't say for sure when it happened. I think it happened progressively, as I got used to the feeling of being invaded and violated. In fact, I suddenly realize that the pain has changed completely and I am now feeling something good, VERY good. It feels so good, that I can't even describe it. I have never felt anything so good and satisfying before. My mind is having a hard time getting used to the fact that one minute I am screaming in pain, wanting it to stop, and then I am feeling something so good, that I want it to never stop.

I guess it is good for me that I feel that way, because it seems like it will in fact, never stop. I mean, my GOD, how many of them are there???? I lose count of how many guys fuck my mouth and my butt. I feel like it must be at least a week since they started using me like I am their personal sex doll. I am sure it isn't more than a couple of hours or so, maybe more, who knows. All I know is that it stops almost as quickly as it started.

I suddenly realize that I am on the floor, huddled in a ball, my butt hole so sore I can't even stand the idea of my thong touching it, and my jaw is so achy, that I think I have lock jaw. Don't get me started on the cum ... there is soooo much cum on me, in me, dripping out of me, and seemingly sticking me to the floor.

As I lay there crying and rocking myself, try to soothe the pain, I think two things. The first is, "Jasmine was SOOOO right. Men are assholes." The second thing I think is, "My GOD, when can we do THAT again???

Chapter 3 Star is Porn

I am shell shocked after my experience at the football team party. It seems like hours before I can even think of peeling myself off the sticky, cum covered floor. The cabin is just one of those sparse things, only used for gatherings and parties, so there is no running water. As a result I have to put my clothes back on, right over the dried and sticky cum, which seems to cover my entire body and is dripping from just about every opening in my body.

I search around to find my various pieces of clothing, which the Guys scattered around, as they tore them from me in a savage lust driven rage. Well, at least nothing seems to be torn or ruined, other than the obvious cum staining on just about everything. That should wash out I guess, so I feel pretty lucky, considering... you know, the whole gang rape thing.

As I slip my red lace panties up my legs, I cringe at how they stick and drag over every place where my legs are covered with cum. Putting on my bra is just as unnerving, and my whole body shivers, as a wave of humiliation and shame overwhelms me. It is so overwhelming that my legs feel weak and I am sure I will fall straight to the floor.

Something that is even more overwhelming for me, is the fact that my small cock got hard as a rock and I feel it twitch and shoot my own cum, into my already damp panties. What the FUCK??? I just had one of my most intense orgasms of my life and I was not even touching myself. How could I cum so hard from just feeling the shame of putting on my cum covered lingerie? Was it the memories of the hard fucking and oral rape, I went through all night? Was it the feeling of complete degradation, I felt and still feel? My mind seems to be short circuit, as I try to process all of the thoughts and emotions. I can't make my mind focus on any one thing. It races from thought to thought. Then one thing is clear. I need to talk with the one group of people who can help me process all of this. I need my stripper family.

The trip back to my house is uneventful, except that I seem to stick in my car seat every time I move as I drive home. My GOD, I am so glad that Trevor wanted to meet me at the party, so I had to drive myself. I can't even imagine how long it would take me to walk out of the park, especially since I would have to walk in these 4 inch heels, while wearing a short, tight skirt.

Thankfully, mom is not home when I get there. I am able to peel my sticky clothes off my body and get into the shower, without anyone witnessing my shame. The feeling of the warm water on my sticky skin feels amazing. But even as I am feeling the relief of the sins being cleansed from my body, I am also feeling a kind of loss, like getting rid of mementos, that remind me of a lost lover. "What the FUCK is wrong with me?" I think for the hundredth time since I woke up in a pool of cum this morning.

Before I can torture my mind any more, I get into my bed and quickly pass out. I would love to say that I slept restfully and woke completely understanding and comfortable with my thoughts and feelings, but this is FAR from the truth. Instead I had dream after dream, one more nasty and erotic than the last. I don't remember all of the details, but they all seemed to center around me surrounded by men, so many men, and I was sucking so many cocks, stroking so many cocks, being fucked by so many cocks. I have never had dreams so vivid before and to my shame, I never woke up before, with my bed covered with so much cum. I can't even imagine how many times I came during my lurid dreams. At first, I thought I had peed the bed, because it was so wet.

Yes, I definitely need another shower before I can even think of dressing and heading down to the club. And yes, I can not stop myself from rubbing and touching myself, while reliving my experience from the night before. Even as I watch the cum shoot from my cock and slowly slide down the slick tiles of the shower, I can't tear my mind away from its conflict, trying to deal with the repulsion and overpowering sexual desire, I am feeling, as result of my gang rape.

With these thoughts and emotions still dominating my brain, I quickly dress and race down to the club. I slept most of the day, but luckily it is still early enough to catch a lot of the girls, because the action won't pick up at the club until 9 O'clock at least. As a result, a lot of the girls have the time to listen to my story, while they take turns making the most of the few diehard pervs, who always seem to be in the club, during the day.

The bad news is that my mother also has a lot of free time to participate in my dysfunctional group therapy session. It isn't that I don't appreciate her input, but the idea of sharing with her, my gang rape experience and my mixed responses, well, THAT is a bit much.

Of course, her first reaction is protective and she wants to call the cops, and have all of the guys arrested. "My God NO, PLEASE not that Mom," I beg her. "One, I NEVER, EVER, want the rest of my school to know about what happened, and two, I don't think I can do something like that to them. I mean, they are not bad guys or anything. And a lot of them have been really interested in me since this all started." I am sure that all sounds stupid and pathetic to my mom and the other strippers, but it is what I am feeling.

To my surprise, several of the other girls support my position. Some even share similar experiences, they had. I never imagined that so many of the girls had been raped or been in similar rough and brutal sexual situations. To me, they always seemed so confident and in control. I have a hard time imagining some of these strong women, in such weak positions.

I would say that this was a very emotional moment and there was a lot of crying, but HELLO, strippers. They are already dressed and made up to dance, so NOBODY is going to ruin THAT by crying, if they can help it. Most people have no idea how much time and effort goes into a good make up job. There is a lot of hugging and support though.

Not wanting to break this feeling of mutual support, I am hesitant to ask them about the other part of my story. How can I tell these women, who suffered so much at the hands of men, that I had and am still having, such strong sexual responses to my own experience? They shock me again, when several of them immediately say that they feel the same way. Some even tell me that they often seek out partners that will do such things to them, so that they can relive the feelings and emotional responses of their experiences.

I can't explain the overwhelming feeling of acceptance at I feel at that moment. I go from feeling broken, to feeling, maybe even more complete, because I can accept all of myself, and not feel like I am made up of pieces, that don't fit together. I feel like I can embrace these feelings, needs, and desires, as I live my life going forward. And God help me, but I am already thinking of a LOT of ways I want to fit this into my life. I am also thinking a lot about, how I can get invited to the next football team party.

This ends my origin story and how I discovered who I am. I can't overstate how none of that would have been possible without the love and support of my stripper family, and how lucky I was to have been raised by strippers.

*** I hope you liked this origin story for my future adventures of "Sam the Cock Hungry Tranny". That is a joke, don't hate me. I am going to explore Sam's journey of self identity and her evolution. I have some exciting ideas, and I hope to hear some of yours. Sam is an exciting canvas, on which I want to paint an erotic masterpiece. I hope you will join Sam and I on this journey. ***