Sailor Moon Ch. 01

At a moment of weakness some months back, he'd allowed himself to indulge in the idea that maybe he should explore those fantasies rater than just let them fester as flights of fancy that occasionally popped up in his imagination.

So he'd posted something to a website - FetLife in fact - a simple request to see if any women out there were... well... were _interested_ let's say... in having _some_ measure of control over a man who absolutely would not dress up like a woman if left to himself, but if... well... if a strong enough woman was to command him to do so... well, the man would have no choice would he? He'd have to - reluctantly and fighting against it every step of the way - obey.

He opened the email and his breath quickened as he read it. Had some dominant woman read his message, been piqued by his proposal, and offered to take him up on it?

Then, has his eyes danced over the texts, a slightly disappointed and conflicted expression appeared on his face. The person who had replied was a man. Dominant, yes. But a man.

Scott shrugged. "Not interested, sorry. Women only!" he thought as he began to compose a quick reply.

Nevertheless, his fingers lingered over the "send" button longer than he felt comfortable, and when he finally did send the email, a puzzled and worried expression was evident on his face in the reflection of the computer monitor.

He pushed the keyboard away, yawned, and then finally headed to bed, thoughts now of strong dominant women dancing in the forefront of his mind.

The moon slowly arced across the night sky outside Scott's apartment as he fell into a troubled sleep. Tossing and turning, Scott finally woke up at 3am in the morning and grunted in frustration. His hand went to his cock and he was going to try and jerk off and see if he could masturbate himself to sleep, when instead his head turned and his gaze fell on to the desk in the corner of his bedroom where his desktop computer sat. Pausing for a few moments, he finally swung his legs down from the bed, pulled back the covers, and padded softly over to the desk dressed only in his boxers. He peered at his computer, grunted again, and then prodded a few keys, waiting as the computer slowly sprang back to life.

Moments later, Scott was back in his web mail client, and now we was staring at another email. Another reply.

His mouth went dry and he licked his lips. Cautiously, he pressed open and a small body of text appeared on his screen. Silently he read it, restarting several times as he absorbed what was being proposed.

What Scott needed, his mysterious correspondent argued, was someone strong in his life who could make him walk around in women's clothing. Did that person have to be a woman? What if Scott was to be made to parade around in front of women? Would that not excite him? To be exposed as a sissy boy to people who he then didn't have to see ever again?

Scott clenched his fists as he wrote. He was turned on even just thinking about it, although he still hated to admit that about himself.

What Scott wanted, his mysterious correspondent continued, was someone strong in his life who would make Scott live his fantasies even where Scott's own cowardice had failed him.

Scott bridled slightly at the use of the word "cowardice", but he shook his head, erased it from his memory, and continued on.

What Scott will do, his mysterious correspondent concluded, was come to a location of the correspondent's choosing on Sunday, wearing an outfit that Scott would buy based on instructions that would be emailed to him tomorrow morning.

Scott took a large breath in and a hand dropped down to his crotch, feeling the hardness of his cock through the material of the boxers.

What Scott will promise, his mysterious correspondent signed off with, would also be to show abstinence until the weekend, as an initial show of submission and a sign of good faith.

Scott thought about replying, but after several minutes of just blankly staring at the screen, he pushed himself away from the keyboard for a second time that night, and returned contemplatively to his bed. His hand returned to his cock, and for moment he thought about releasing his pent-up tension in a self-love session. However, after a long time of just holding his erect manhood, his hand slipped off and fell to his side, as Scott instead closed his eyes, rolled over and fell back into a deeper sleep.

As promised, there was indeed a third email waiting for him when he woke up. A link to a FetLife profile was included and Scott quickly read up on the anonymous comments posted online about his mysterious correspondent. After that, he almost absentmindedly clicked on two link at the very end of the email that led to a costume website and an underwear online store. Scott's mouth fell open as he looked at the images that now appeared on his screen...

****

The walk from Warehouse 7 to Warehouse 5 had been an exercise in growing embarrassment and a rapid realisation that he was completely vulnerable to anyone or anything that might happen to stumble across him.

In terms of distance, the walk couldn't have been more than 800 feet across flat open terrain, with one right hand turn turn thrown into the mix as he went down a side road. However, half way along, as he stumbled along in his red heeled knee-high boots, painfully aware of how silly he looked and conscious too of the increasing bulge in his feminine panties where his body betrayed the arousal that he was feeling, he'd caught out of the corner of his eye a glimpse of movement in the distance. Instantly, he had felt an icy chill go down his spine. Despite it being the weekend, the warehouse complex was not as empty as first thought. There were other people around, even if so far they had all been in the distance and all had seem preoccupied on their own tasks rather than noticing the curious antics of a silly little sissy boy prancing along in a very emasculating Sailor Moon outfit.

Scott had tried to double his speed upon realising this, but he was unused to walking in such boots and his movements were constrained to a fast hobble that dragged out the moments that he was exposed in public. He tried to control his emotions, but at the same time as he felt embarrassment at his attire and that he was wearing it outside, he felt equally embarrassed that not only had he put himself in this situation in the first place, but that on some level he was secretly enjoying it. The stranger had been right. Scott _did_ want to be paraded about like a little sissy boy. Or at least, he wanted to be teased with the idea of being made to do that. Now that he was actually outside and having a complete.a task with no realistic means of escape, the cold hard truth of reality was colliding against the secret fantasies that he'd dreamed of. If he was _actually_ seen, if someone else _actually_ came along right now... well, he'd dreamed of that and felt the thrill of excitement at imagining it, but for it to really happen would be a whole new level of humiliation!

He saw two boxes up ahead and he forged on determinedly. In the far distance, a couple of warehouses away down a long stretch of open road, he saw a forklift drive out of a building, followed by two workers. For a split second Scott froze as he imagined a future where the forklift turned right and started heading towards him. For a single crystallised moment, Scott was caught in a perfect moment of absolute inescapable humiliation and he struggled to breath. Then, the forklift turned left and started to move away from him, followed by the two workers who were none the wiser to the strange sight to their right.

Scott breathed out, and blinked. Dear God that was too close. He hurried on to the boxes and - as foretold - found that one was heavy and must have contained some equipment, while another smaller box was open and empty. Well actually, not entirely empty. Inside there was a small envelope with a simple instruction written on it. "Once your skirt is in the box, open this envelope."

Scott wasted a few more moments casting glances around the open complex, and then realised the stupidity of it as he stood there, practically inviting someone to suddenly turning a corner and finding him, when he should be getting this over as quickly as possible and getting back to Warehouse 7. Cursing himself, Scott quickly wriggled out of the blue frilly skirt and revealed his ruffled pink knickers to the world in general. Stuffing the blue skirt into box, he fumbled for the envelope and scanned the contents quickly. The instructions inside were as brief as the ones on the envelope itself.

"Look up to your left and smile."

In confusion, Scott looked immediately up to his left, but the smile that was beginning to form on his face as instructed froze into a shocked expression as he saw what the note was really referring to. Pointing directly at the boxes, and by extension directly at Scott, was a security camera.

Scott swore. Of course there would be fucking security cameras in a Warehouse complex! How on _earth_ had he not thought of that earlier. He must have passed a dozen on his way here, while lost in his own private world of embarrassment worrying so much about being found by random passers by! His hands instinctively went to his crotch, and he seethed in agony as he felt his cock harden even further. The very thought of being seen like this was both torture and a turn on, and Scott looked down at the ground - too late of course, the camera would undoubtedly already have a nice snapshot of Scott's full face in a Sailor Moon costume and pink panties - before picking up the boxes, discarding the envelope and note, and hurriedly setting off for the false haven of Warehouse 7.

The walk back was even more excruciating as the walk to the boxes. Now he worried not only about random workers, of whom he now seems to spy one in the distance every minute or so, but he also scanned the buildings and shuddered and he saw for the first time the security cameras mounted up high that would have captured his every movement, recording and reporting his every step. He went bright red, matching the bright pink feminine panties he was displaying to all who might look, and whimpered as he try to get to Warehouse 7 as fast as he could. Half way there, his haste got the better of him and he felt himself stumble forward as his heels caught a slightly uneven patch of the tarmac road. With his hands carrying the boxes, he was caught for a split second between the dropping the boxes and trying to steady himself with his arms, or letting himself sink to one knee so he could avoid a full blown fall. Caught in indecision, he instead achieved nothing other than falling flat on his face, the boxes strewn around in front of him, his legs splayed behind him and his bright pink panties pointing up into the air. He landed also on his erect penis, which could a shock of pain to coarse through his body.

"Argh" he said, as he placed his white-gloved hands on the ground and shook his head in irritation. Then, as he began to push himself up, his eyes flew open as he stared behind him and realised that there were a pair of workman's boots only 10 feet behind him. The boots were connected to a pair of legs dressed in long overalls, and as he looked up horrified, he came into direct eye contact with a tall muscular man, around 30 years old and of African American descent, who was carrying a clipboard and looking incredulously on at the bizarre sight in front of him.

"What... the..." the man started to say, a look halfway between disgust and shocked amusement creasing his face.

Scott gaped and tried to speak but his voice completely abandoned him. He hauled himself to his feet and tried to pick up the boxes, conscious that as he bent over he was displaying his sissy boy ass clad in bright pink panties to this muscular, proud specimen of manhood. If that wasn't the ultimate sign of submission, Scott didn't know what would be!

"I'm... I'm sorry..." Scott managed to stammer finally as he proceeded to pick up and then immediately drop the second box, having to fumble for it again. The second box popped open and his skirt half fell out, causing him to then have to waste precious seconds closing the box again.

"What the fuck are you, man?" The worker asked, his eyes working there way up and down Scott's body, taking in every embarrassing embellishment of his costume.

"I... I..." Scott tried to say, but there was simply no way to explain this.

"What the _fuck_... are you doing dressed like _that_... here?!" the worker continued, shaking his head in amazement. "Who do you work for?!"

"Ware... warehouse 7!" Scott replied, not even thinking about what he was saying or what he was revealing.

"And you wear _that_ as your work outfit?!" The man asking, snorting derisively.

"Yes... yes sir... yes sir, I do." Scott mumbled, eyes down, unable to hold eye contact with this clearly superior man.

"My God..." the man said, continuing to shake his head disbelievingly, "you look ridiculous, you know that right?"

Scott nodded, not trusting himself to open his mouth and speak. Instead, he finally worked up the self-control to turn around and hastily begin to beat a retreat. He closed his eyes tight, hoping that if he didn't see the world around him then the world around him wouldn't see him either. For a few seconds, he panicked as he heard footsteps behind him that indicated that the worker was following him, but mercifully they stopped after a few seconds, and Scott sensed that the other man had stopped. Now he powered on, putting as much distance between him and his unfortunate encounter as possible, and praying that he reached Warehouse 7 before anyone else found him.

When he did make it, he practically banged the door down as he called out for the stranger inside to let him. Of course he was kept waiting for a full two minutes, each second agony as he expected another person to find him, judge him, mock him, degrade him, but mercifully no-one did and finally the door swung open. Scott practically fell inside and gratefully took shelter.

"Sit down" the voice commanded. Once again, the stranger was nowhere to be seen.

Scott hurried over to the chair and resumed his position, staring at the door as it again swung shut and locked him inside. This time, that seemed preferable to what waited outside.

"You have completed your first task." The voice said, and once again Scott felt the footsteps approach from behind him.

"You were turned on by your little adventure and by tour little encounter." The voice stated.

Scott tried shaking his head in violent disagreement, but then when the voice let the silence build, he shuddered and then nodded his head in meek agreement.

"I saw your pink panties on the way back," the voice said, teasingly. "Stand up and tell me how hard your cock is."

Scott just sat there for a moment, but then slowly got to his feet as instructed. He couldn't lie of course, and he knew the stranger had been watching every step of the way.

"I'm very hard." Scott confessed.

"No it is not." The voice said, in a matter-of-fact tone that felt like a slap across Scott's face.

"Wh... what... y... yes I am..." Scott stuttered, looking down at his pink panties and seeing the bulge that was poking out.

"I saw no bulge. I saw no sign of an erection, no sign of a cock even. Just a pair of pink panties on a silly little sissy boy who can't get it up."

Scott audibly gasped at the insinuation. "I'm..." he started to say, indignation beginning to build up as anger swelled inside.

"Turn around and face me!" The voice barked.

Scott's eyes went wide as he processed what had been said, and then slowly turned around. He was suddenly facing a large caucasian man, jet black hair and brown eyes, clean cut and with a strong athletic body. His face radiated confidence and dominance, and he was at least half a foot taller than Scott. Scott didn't say a word, and just stared mutely at the man.

"Show me your cock."

Scott looked up startled. "Wh... what... no... that wasn't part of what we..."

The man simply looked at Scott, who's voice broke up and trailed off. The expression on the other man's face barely revealed an emotion, but Scott could read in it a simple statement that the man had said back at the door when Scott had arrived. Do you think I ask people twice?

Scott looked back at the door. "I... don't... I..." he tried to drag this out, hoping the man would move on to other tasks, but the stranger just stood there, an amused look slowly building upon his chiselled masculine features.

"I... don't... like men looking at my cock..." Scott said, although his voice gave away the conflict of emotions inside his brain, and even as he spoke, his hands grasped the sides of his feminine ruffled pink panties, and jerkily pulled them down his thighs. He grunted involuntarily as he hard cock sprung forth from the tight confines of the panties, and how he felt utterly and completely exposed.

"Can... can I get me keys and stuff back?" Scott whispered.

"You will." The man said, his gaze now focussed on Scott's crotch. He shrugged. "How disappointing. How... tiny."

Scott's mouth fell open. "I... I... no, I don't... have a tiny penis!" He objected, some sense of pride still flickering unextinguished inside of him.

The man shook his head, and then pointed at the chair. "Sit down."

Scott turned and faced the chair, red-faced, and then sat down, feeling the cold hard chair on his bare backside.

"I'd like to go soon..." Scott said, out loud.

There was no immediate reply, and after a few moments of sitting in the silence Scott repeated himself.

"I said I'd like to go soon..." Scott said, even more loudly, hearing himself echo through the empty warehouse. Did anyone hear him outside as well?

"You can go whenever you like." The man finally replied. "You're submitting to this because you want to."

Scott shook his head. "Showing you my cock was not part of what we discussed..." Scott started to say, but then he was interrupted by his own voice as he came over a pair of speakers hidden in the ceiling.

"I... like men looking at my cock. I... have a tiny penis!" Scott almost gagged as he heard his own voice speak those words, edited out of context from what he himself had said only moments ago.

"As I said," the man continued, with an amused drawl in his voice now, "you can go whenever you like."

Scott looked around nervously. "What are you going to do with that... with what you... well... have?"

"Well," the voice replied, teasing out each word and making Scott almost beg for release, "you can stay and find out, or you can leave and find out. This one is very much your choice."

As Scott's imagination went into overtime on what the stranger could possibly have meant by that, the side door to the world outside noisily began to open and a tray slid across the floor before coming to a rest by the entrance. On it, were Scott's keys, phone and wallet. He now had a very challenging choice to make.

*****

Scott slowly turned around so that his back was to the exit. Glancing up, he saw the other man slowly walking towards him, arms crossed. As he came across the open space, he paused at the camera setup and casually tapped the device. It began to swing around slowly and silently, and the man just stared at Scott with a sly look on his face. Scott's eyes tracked the camera and with perfect precision, it stopped it's arc exactly at the moment it was pointing directly at him. The man slowly leaned his head to one side as if he was contemplating something, and then raised an eyebrow as a thought seemed to cross his mind.

"You are going to get your cock out again..."

Scott's eyes darted across from his focus on the camera to the man. He almost began to shake his head, but held back instead.