Sailor Moon Ch. 01

A light rain splattered against the windscreen as the small car crept along the open road, a series of warehouses coming up in the near distance. The driver, clad in a large grey coat and wearing a nervous look on his face, was driving at least 5 miles under the speed limit, betraying a marked reluctance to get to his final destination.

There was good reason for that. The man checked his rearview mirror again, and his mood lightened for a moment at least as he assured himself that no-one was following. Not that "people behind him" was his primary cause for concern. It was more the "person waiting for him up ahead" that was causing the most amount of conflict as his imagination raced from one possibility to the next. And the "person at the wheel of the car driving" wasn't his most reliable ally right now either. His hands clenched, gripping the driving wheel tightly. It was an open question as to whether the fact that he was doing this out of choice made matters moderately better or far, far worse. Either way, even crawling along the road as he was, foot reflexively prodding at the brake pedal to slow down even further, there was no delaying the fact that he'd ultimately be standing in front of a door in the side of one of those warehouses looming up, waiting for it to open and waiting for a whole slew of new experiences to engulf him.

He breathed in deeply, and tried to focus his mind as the first warehouse came up on his left-hand side and the road finally entered the complex on the outskirts of the city where he'd been told to meet the stranger. When he'd left his house thirty minutes ago, he'd mumbled out loud while climbing into his car that "this was crazy". He'd then proceeded to sit in his car stock-still in his driveway for five long minutes as the realisation hit him that it wasn't _this_ that was crazy, oh no, _he_ was crazy!

A second warehouse passed by and the man started to look for numbers on the main doors of the buildings. He was looking for Warehouse 7 and had a pretty good idea of where it was from Google Maps. He'd entered from the south of the complex so the numbers had started high and were counting down. It was hard to avoid the feeling that he was counting down to some figurative and literal cataclysmic event.

10, 9, he slowed down even more and started to look for a place to park. There wasn't anyone around, it was the weekend and the warehouse complex seemed to be deserted at the moment. For a second, he was glad of that as it meant that there wasn't anyone around to see him. Then he realised with a start that this meant there equally no one around to see him and know he was here if something about what was about to happen went wrong. Warehouse 8 passed by on the right and his breath became ragged. He slowed to a complete stop, and now his hands shook on the wheel. Gathering a few last vestiges of composure, he tried some breathing exercises and then parked the car next to Warehouse 7. A non-descript grey door in the side of the building beckoned him. He sat there for a few more minutes, wondering why he didn't just gun the accelerator and get the hell out of dodge. He'd talked to the stranger online - he could easily just delete the account, forget this ever happened, and move on with his life as a typical working man in a typical working life.

Instead, he fumbled for the driver's side door handle, and open it slowly, before swinging his feet down to the ground and pausing for a moment. He looked all around, ensuring that no-one was watching, and then got out of the car. It is at this point that a casual observer would notice the first of what would eventually show to be many oddities about the man. Because as he stood there in his long, plain, grey coat, it was now evident to anyone who might happen to stroll by that the man was actually wearing white stockings on his legs that protruded out from under the coat. He took one final series of furtive glances around him to reassure him of privacy, and then quickly kneeled down to remove a pair of ordinary sneakers that he'd been wearing while driving. Quickly tossing them back into the car, he leaned in and grabbed a large bag, from which he proceeded to pull a pair of red knee-high boots with a medium-sized heel. He gulped, and then sat back in the car and began to urgently pull on the boots. There was a brief struggle as he pulled them up, but with some panting and cursing, he managed to wriggle them on, and then pull the zip up so that they snuggly engulfed his lower legs.

Then, with an audible sigh, he closed his eyes and his hands went to the buttons of his coat. Slowly, one by one he undid the buttons, until the only thing holding his coat closed were his own hands.

He mouthed a countdown from ten, the numbers getting more and more dragged out as doubt raced through his mind. Finally, and with jerky robotic movements that betrayed the conflict in his mind, he pulled the coat open and let it fall down his arms. Stepping up from the car seat again, he shivered in what was otherwise a warm day outside, and revealed for the first time that he was dressed in a short frilly blue skirt that splayed out, with a tight white buttonless blouse - clearly a very feminine cut with curves where he clearly didn't have any - and a huge red bow over his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut, half expecting a burst of laughter to suddenly erupt from some hidden observer, but the warehouse complex was almost eerily quite as only the occasional rustle of a light breeze interrupted the silence.

He opened his eyes again, his breathing fast and shallow. He turned, pushed the coat into the back seat of his car, and then grabbed a pair of long white gloves that went up to his elbow. Slipping them on, he completed his costume, and took a second to look at himself in the car's sideview mirror. He didn't recognise the man staring back at him, and momentarily he was startled and thought that maybe there was someone else directly behind him. There was no-one but him though. A man - although not a man dressed as a man. No, the image in the mirror was that of a man - or was it even a silly little sissy boy? - dressed as none other than Sailor Moon. What kind of man dresses as Sailor Moon, he mused, almost detached emotionally from what he was seeing. Then the reality of what he was doing slapped him in the face, and he shook himself out of his contemplation. Hastily looking around, with a guilty expression plastered on his face, he closed the car door and locked it. Then, he stumbled towards the side-door of the warehouse and tried to hide in the shadows of the building.

The grey side-door had a small grill at head-height, and he knocked twice as he'd been instructed. Nothing happened for a good minute, and the man was left standing in the shadows the warehouse dressed as Sailor Moon, wondering if at any moment whether someone would come by and discover him. He was about to knock a second time, urgency building up in him with every second he was outside, when a sharp sliding noise heralded the opening of the grill in the door. He tried to peer in, but there was only darkness within.

"Scott." A man's voice said from inside. So the stranger he'd been talking too _had_ been male, he though. The word "Scott" should have sounded like a question, but there was a calm confidence in the voice that suggested the man who had spoken was not one to brook doubt, and that he wasn't really asking for confirmation but more stating a simple matter of fact to assert authority.

"Y... yes..." Scott replied, shaking slightly and trying to get close to the door, "are you..."

But the voice cut Scott off before he could continue. "You have your instructions. Pass your keys and your wallet and your phone through the grill."

Scott gulped. This was literally insane. This could be a robbery, it could be anything. Part of him was aghast at the fact that he was even contemplating going through with this. Yet, from all that he'd heard online, this stranger could... help him.

He hesitated for a moment, and was looking wild-eyed at the phone, keys and wallet in his hands when the stranger spoke again. "Do you think I ask people twice? Do as I say now, or leave now."

Scott clenched his hands, gripping hard on to his possessions, the possessions that would let him get back safely home if only he left now. But then, with a sense of inevitability, he slowly raised his hands up to the grill and watched in horror as he handed over his lifelines to the stranger behind the door. He felt a strong masculine hand take the keys, phone and wallet of him, and then without any further discussion, the grill on the door slid shut. Scott stood there for a moment, and a wave of panic began to sweep over him. Had he just handed everything over, only to be left with no way of getting home - which would be a long walk indeed along an open road and through his very own suburb - in a girly, feminine Sailor Moon outfit?! Scott whimpered slightly, and crossed his legs, sagging in his knees and trying to use his hands to cover up his outfit in an entirely futile exercise at protecting his modesty. He was frozen on the spot though, and had no idea what to do next. He banged on the door again, the two knocks that he'd been told would be his way of saying he'd arrived. There was still no response. Now, every rustle of the breeze made him think that someone was walking nearby, every quiet creak of a building sent shockwaves down his spine. Now he knocked again, more vigorously and continuously. He was about to start shouting at the door, begging for help, when a loud scrapping noise silenced him, and the door slowly began to swing open.

Scott almost fell in to the building as he stumbled forward, and as he finally staggered inside, the lights were suddenly turned on. Scott's froze at the entrance, and looked around. He had expected to see the stranger, but there was no-one else in sight. Instead, in front of him there stretched out a largely empty warehouse. Row upon row of high shelving units disappeared into the distance, some with a scattering of boxes on them, but otherwise mostly unused, while he was currently standing in what looked like a forty square foot open space with a couple of pieces of office furniture on the sides, and a single chair in the middle that faced the door. As the looked around wordlessly, he noticed that on the far edge of the open space was a couple of tall light stands of the type used by photographers and film crews, and a camera mounted on a tripod that was currently pointing in the opposite direction from Scott and the chair.

"Sit down" the voice said, disembodied in the air around him. Scott looked around again but there was still no sign of the stranger. He hesitated for only a second, but remembered what the stranger had said about not asking twice, and walked over to the chair, studied it for a moment, and then sat down when he was satisfied it was a simple ordinary chair. As he did, the side door he'd walking through swung shut and closed with a loud slam.

"You like to be a sissy boy." The voice said again, and again it wasn't framed as a question but as a statement of fact that served only to claim dominance by the stranger over the strange little man in the Sailor Moon outfit sitting in a chair in the middle of a warehouse.

Scott felt he didn't need to answer, but then found himself mutely nodding his head anyway. He stared at the door, his back to the large majority of the warehouse, and wondered if he should really just run for it, even in the heels that comprised his ridiculous outfit.

Then, he heard steps approaching from behind. He started to turn his head when the voice interjected. "Do not turn around. Sit in the chair and put your hands on your head and face the door." It was not a voice that invited argument. Scott did so, and felt his body shake slightly.

The footsteps stopped and Scott could sense someone behind him.

"What are you dressed as?" The voice behind him asked. It was the first question Scott had been asked, and his lips opened for a second with no sound coming out. He realised his mouth had gone completely dry, and when Scott spoke his voice sounded strained and cracked. "I'm dressed as Sailor Moon." Scott replied, quietly.

"Louder." The voice behind him barked.

Scott closed his eyes shut, and then said in a louder clearer voice "I'm dressed as Sailor Moon!"

The voice went silent for a moment, and let Scott feel the echoes of his words reverberate through the warehouse. If there was anyone else in here, they were now well aware of Scott's presence and Scott's predicament.

"Do men wear Sailor Moon outfits?" The voice asked again. Scott shook his head mutely, but he also knew that the voice would want him to speak as well.

"No, men do not wear Sailor Moon outfits." He said, gulping.

The voice contemplated this for a second, before continuing. "You have told me that you are wearing a Sailor Moon outfit. You have told me that men do not wear Sailor Moon outfits. What does that make you?"

Scott took a deep breath in. The voice had already said what he was before, but it was evident that the voice now wanted Scott to betray himself and shout it clearly in this large warehouse for the benefit of anyone who may be listening.

"I'm a silly little sissy boy!" Scott said, and then almost shrunk back as his voice carried through the warehouse and echoed off the high ceilings and distant walls.

The voice seemed momentarily satisfied, and paused for a second while Scott shivered, before adding "Stand up. Bend over. Prove to me that you can follow instructions."

Scott stood up immediately, and he was almost shocked at how his body began to instinctively follow the instructions. Slowly, he bent over, showing his ass to the stranger behind him.

After a few moments of this, he realised that the stranger was expecting more. His hands slowly went to the blue frilled skirt, and roughly began to pull the material up. His instructions over the internet prior to coming here had been clear and the Sailor Moon outfit he was modelling was not the sole cause of his embarrassment. As he pulled the skirt up, bent over with the stranger behind him, a pair of bright pink ruffled feminine panties came into view.

Scott stood like this for the next 30 seconds, and a bright red flush began to come over this cheeks as the realisation of how he was exposing himself to the stranger sunk into consciousness. Finally, the voice interrupted the silence and Scott's growing humiliation.

"You have worn what you were told to wear. You have passed the first test. Sit down."

Scott quickly lowered his skirt again and sat down on the chair, gratefully.

The stranger took a couple of more steps towards Scott and he could now feel the other man almost breathing down his neck. Scott struggled to not look over his shoulder, and sat rigid, staring tremblingly at the door ahead of him.

"You want to be handled like a sissy boy."


Scott nodded, not daring to say a word.

"You need to be handled like a sissy boy."

Scott paused, but then nodded again, his head shaking as his nerves began to get the better of him.

"We will soon see what else you need done to you, and what else you need to do." The stranger said, and this time there was a tone of amusement in his voice. Scott's heart skipped a beat, what did he mean by that?

He opened his mouth, tried to put some words together, and then struggled to get out "I... what... umm... do you..."

Two large firm hands suddenly landed on his shoulders, not pressing down so hard that it hurt, but pressing down hard enough that Scott realised he couldn't stand up or move from the chair.

"Your name is Scott Matthews" the voice said. Scott nodded again, acknowledging his real first name and the fake second name he'd used online to protect his identity. "Scott Matthews needs to be shown off in silly girls' clothing because Scott Matthews is a sissy boy. Scott Matthews wants me to make him parade around in that ridiculous girl's outfit..."

Scott trembled and bit his lip. It was true of course, it was all true.

"Scott Matthews wants many things, but Scott Matthews will need to _earn_ his rewards," the voice lingered on that last part for a second, before idly adding - almost as an afterthought - "and will need to suffer the repercussions of any failures..."

Scott had to fight the urge to turn around, a question forming on his lips as to what the stranger meant, but he grimly stared ahead at the door, fearful of what might happen if he did look around.

"I have a camera and a photoshoot setup. Behave yourself and I may choose to grant you your desires. But first, prove yourself. I don't waste my time with people who won't obey!"

Scott coughed, thought of asking what he was supposed to do, but then thought better of it. He simply sat and waited, trying to calm himself down and to stop the involuntary shakes.

"There are two boxes by Warehouse 5," the voice continued, "you are to retrieve them both."

Scott nodded to signal he understood. The pressure from the man's hands remained on his shoulders though and he obediently stayed in his seat.

"The first box has some stuff we need inside of it, and you will bring it here without looking inside. The second box is empty. When you have reached Warehouse 5 and the empty box, you will remove your skirt and place it in the empty box, and come back here with both boxes." The voice was calm and strong, and clearly indicated that nothing about the instructions just given were open to debate.

Scott gave a short, jerky nod of his head again to acknowledge his understanding, and to signal his submission.

Finally, the pressure on his shoulders relaxed and the man's hands pulled back. Knowing what that meant, Scott stood up and took a deep breath in. Without looking back, he started walking towards the side door, which began to open as he approached. Outside, he could see the clear cool air and the light coming from the now blue post-shower sky overhead.

As Scott crossed the threshold between the building and the large road, Scott took in a deep gulp of air. He then felt a breeze behind him, and just took a step forward in time so that the side door didn't smack him in the backside too hard as it swung shut. The side door closed with a sharp clang, and Scott was momentarily caught in a bout of horrified realisation as he remembered that his keys, wallet and phone were all on the other side of that door. He shook his head slowly, as he he peered down both ways of the road for signs of other people, and quietly began to wonder how and why he'd managed to land himself in this situation in the first place.

****

Scott had stared at the computer screen back at his apartment for a solid five minutes before his mind had fully processed what he was looking at. It was a reply. A reply to a message he'd posted on a website some three months back, a website that he'd largely forgotten about consciously, even if not subconsciously.

Scott was a man of average height of a fit, if not especially athletic build. He worked in an office as an accountant for a day job that consumed most of his week and nearly all of his will to live. The dark night sky outside had tempted him to go to bed early, try and get some rest and maybe given him the opportunity to finally head to the gym in the morning prior to work like he'd been telling himself he should do for the past six months. However, he'd decided to just check his email once, quickly, he certainly wouldn't spend a lot of time on it, just out of the usual bulk-standard idle curiosity.

And there it had been. That reply.

Scott had a boring job and a boring life, but that hid some not so boring fantasies. Well, maybe "not so boring" wasn't quite the right descriptor - "some down right weird and freaky fantasies" was perhaps a more accurate way of capturing what went through Scott's mind when he let his imagination wander.