The Comic Book

Then he closed his eyes and awaited the inevitable. The shout of shocked recognition. The cruel laughter. The mocking voice wreaking revenge for his own failings as a boyfriend all those years ago.

He stood there shaking, and seconds passed by.

Then, after nearly a full minute, there had been nothing. He cautiously opened one eye. He was still alone in the aisle. He opened a second eye. Still no Stephanie.

Edging down the aisle, creeping along on the soft quiet carpet under the soft dim lights of the store, praying that his princess heels didn't give away his presence, he peeked around again and saw that Stephanie was looking in one of the bargain bins near the counter. She looked up at the owner, and seemed to have a brief conversation, holding up the comic as if to get his opinion.

Jonathan's mouth remained dry as his fate hung in the balance.

Then, like a miracle, Stephanie seemed to judge that the comic in the bargain bin was to her satisfaction. Walking casually back to counter, she placed it down and seemed to rummage through her bag for an eternity while Jonathan watched on, barely able to breathe.

Finally, she paid for the comic, said a few words of farewell to the owner, and then disappeared out the door again.

Jonathan backed down the aisle and then tried to steady himself as his breathing returned, in fits and starts and barely able to take in enough air without hyperventilating.

"Holy shit," he whispered, "too close... too close."

Wild-eyed, he looked back down the aisle, and then not daring to waste another second half-sprinted to where the "M"s were and let his shaking hands grab at random titles until he had found a "My Little Pony" book.

So armed, he dashed back to the counter, head down and ignoring the obvious looks and sniggers of the other patrons, and paid for the book without saying a single word.

As he was about to leave, he momentarily made eye contact with the owner. In his eyes, he saw a mixture of surprise, pity and mirth. Jonathan was an object of ridicule, and as he rode wave after wave of embarrassment, he felt a climax of humiliation wash over him that was both crazy, terrifying and arousing all at the same time.

He looked back once on the store that had nearly been the scene of his ruin. Then, vowing never to return, he started the final leg home.

**************

Jonathan staggered out of the store, his world shaken and his entire body shivering in the aftermath of what was a close encounter of the terrifying kind.

All he could think about what his car and a continuing cycle of "what if" questions all centred around the future that would have played out if she'd seen him.

The car, he had to focus on the car. The bright light from the blazing sun once again made him wince, as his eyes struggled to adjust from the softer light inside Titan Comics.

Pausing only for a second to squint, he turned to his right and hurried on towards his car. The only small mercy was that he was now becoming more familiar with walking in high heels, and was able to cover the ground somewhat faster than when coming to the store.

He gripped the comic he'd bought even tighter, as if concerned that it might blow away if he dared slacken his grip at all, causing him to have to go back into the store again.

The steady click, click of the heels still reverberated around him, and he felt like they were as loud as a siren, somehow calling all of the attention of the entire street on to his pitiful predicament. He struggled on, not quite manfully, but at least with the growing realisation that he at least dodged a bullet and that his ordeal was almost at an end. Now that he was on the final leg, and with Stephanie safely avoided, he even permitted himself a small sense of achievement and thrill, as he began to recount the events of the past few minutes through the misty lens of a growing erection. He felt his cock — previously shrunk and shrivelled and cowed by the embarrassment of his costume — began to stiffen against the silky material of his feminine panties. Humiliation was slowly giving way to horniness, or... perhaps, a traitorous part of mind mused, perhaps his humiliation was inseparably linked to his horniness.

Still, he blushed. The skirt and the panties would reveal his manhood's erection if he became to stiff, and the car was now only a few store fronts away. He was passing by men and women in the street who wore the same looks of incredulity, surprise and smirking laughter that he had felt on the way to the comic store, but now he could see his car and safety and he tried to simply block out the stinging words and mocking glances that were being directed his way.

Some of them were probably only in his imagination, trapped as he was in this cycle of shame that was now fuelling a need within him that caused his own body to betray the desires now surfacing. Still, the barbs, the looks, the judgements, they were all pricking him like little needles jabbing his body from all directions.

He forced himself on, eyes fixed ahead on his car. Then, half way along the sidewalk, he came to a sudden stop, realising with a jolt that he'd been staring without really looking, his eyes focussed on his vehicle without truely seeing anything around it. For there was a man lounging against his car. Jonathan's mouth dropped open. A man, dressed normally, respectably, wearing mute greys and blues, and he was now looking directly at Jonathan. Jonathan, the sissy man dressed in bright pink, whose sparkly shoes and lipstick and makeup and long flowing blonde pleated ponytail stood in absolute contrast to this example of normal, sensible masculinity who was now propping himself up against Jonathan's only means of escape.

A sudden shiver ran down Jonathan's spine. He froze on the spot again, indecision like that which had afflicted him in the car rearing its ugly face again. Jonathan looked behind him, back at the store he'd left. No, he couldn't go back. If he went back, he'd just be out in the open for longer, dressed like this. He looked back at his car and squinted at the well-set man of medium build who was now leaning casually with one hand on the passenger-side door, and who — from only two cars away now — seemed to be smiling directly at Jonathan.

Jonathan's mouth was still gaping open, when his eyes finally focussed on the stranger, and he took an involuntary step back.

No. No, it couldn't be. Jonathan mutely shook his head, as if denying the fact could somehow change the reality he was being presented with.

He... he knew the man. The stranger, it was an old face from a past life. Jonathan's hands squeezed, partly crumpling the comic in his hand, and he had to fight the urge to simply turn and run. The man was looking at him and pointing with a finger, before turning his palm over and beckoning Jonathan to come closer.

Jonathan blushed furiously and turned to walk away. As he did though, he caught a glimpse of an even more terrifying sight coming behind him.

Stephanie was only a couple of cars away now and purposefully walking down the sidewalk. There would be no way of avoiding her if he headed away from the car. He shook on the spot, and then looked desperately at the nearest store front. It was a lingerie store, and three women were inside the entrance chatting away to themselves. They hadn't seen him, not yet at least, and he didn't dare enter the store — not like this. What if this was where Stephanie was heading anyway?

In a split-second he reached a decision and started again for his car. Head down, he tried to avoid any eye contact with the man who awaited him. Maybe the man had been looking at someone behind him. Jonathan held on that ridiculous hope for the few seconds that it took him to cover the distance to his car, before it was torn from his shaking grasp by two simple words.

"Hello Jonathan."

Jonathan almost threw up on the spot, and his face went a ghostly white as he finally looked up at the other man. It was Don. Don Christofferson. Don from his old Fraternity days — a blast from the past that had almost blown Jonathan off his feet.

His mouth was still hanging open, and he tried to say something but only a pitiful squeak came out.

He held up his car keys in his left hand, and looked pleadingly at Don. Then, as he heard footsteps behind him — surely Stephanie's — he tried to make it to his driver's side door.

"Now Jonathan, is that any way to treat an old friend?" Don said, tilting his head to one side.

"Please..." Jonathan said, struggling to get the words out through his dry mouth, "look... I'll talk to you later... I just need to..."

"Need to make sure Stephanie doesn't see you?" Don finished for him, a slight knowing smile creasing his face.

Jonathan shook as he looked at Don wild-eyed. His brain was desperately trying to process all the events of the past few seconds, but now alarm bells were clanging away in all parts of his mind. Don could hardly be here by accident.

Jonathan grip on his keys slackened as he realised the full predicament he was now in. The keys slipped out of his grasp, and clattered to the sidewalk by his feet.

He tried to say something, but no words would come out.

"Jonathan," Don said, almost kindly, "did you really think Stephanie was here by accident?" He paused and looked up at the woman who had now arrived, and gave her a knowing wink.

Jonathan's head pivoted slowly on his neck, unable to control himself. He looked, slack-jawed and gaping at his ex-, and his eyes almost popped out of their sockets.

"I'm.... I'm.... I'm..." was all he could manage.

"I'm dressed like a fairy princess?" Don said, "I'm dressed all in pink and put on my makeup for a walk around the city?" he added, a questioning tone intermingled with a teasing inflection on his words, "I'm prancing around in public wearing sparkly pink high-heeled shoes, flashing my silly cartoon panties to everyone who asks?"

Jonathan went mute again.

Stephanie didn't say a word, but walked around and stood by Don, crossing her arms, with almost a pitying look on her face.

Then Don leaned across to her and whispered — just loud enough to ensure Jonathan heard — "and you know what..." he said, pointing at Jonathan's crotch, "he's _loving_ every second of it."

Jonathan almost jumped out of his skin at that point, following Don's gaze and realising in horror that his erection was entirely obvious through the thin material of the panties and the frilly skirt that fluttered around his waist.

"No... you don't understand..." he was finally able to reply, but was cut short by Don again.

"No, I do understand. More that you realise."

"But I..." Jonathan tried to protest.

Don just smiled and looked at Stephanie, who still hadn't said a single word but whose entire demeanour and look spoke volumes of what she thought of Jonathan.

Then, a brief swell of indignation surfaced in Jonathan, and he tried to summon all of his height to tower over the shorter Don. "So you two are together, is it, following me around everywhere hoping you'd catch me doing something embarrassing?" he tried to summon all of the anger he could muster, channeling the fear and embarrassment that had seeped into every ounce of his being and turn it to another purpose.

Don just laughed in his face. "Well, hardly. I mean," Don looked at Stephanie, "no offence, but she's not my type," he looked down instead at Jonathan's bulging manhood and gave him a knowing wink. "I thought that was common knowledge around the old Frat house," he added, with a broad smirk.

Jonathan closed his eyes, and grimaced. "How..." his voice now dropping to a defeated whisper, "how did you find me?"

Don shrugged, and pointed at the now crumpled comic book in Jonathan's clenched fist. "Well, you _did_ say you'd buy me a comic book for that silly bet you lost." He took one step forward towards Jonathan, who flinched but otherwise didn't retreat further. Don carefully and gently prised the comic book out of his grasp. "I just thought I'd come by and pick it up in person rather than make you go to the expense of posting it!"

Jonathan's vision swam as he began to lose focus, and a thousand thoughts jostled for attention in the front of his mind.

"No... no... that can't be you... she said she was a..."

It was Don's turn to shake his own head now. "I mean, come on, how many people on the Internet are truely what they say they are?"

"No... I mean..." he looked helplessly at Stephanie, who finally broke her silence.

"Don't look at me, I was almost as surprised as you are now when Don here contacted me last week." She looked up and down at Jonathan, making him feel like she was cataloguing every embarrassment, every feminine feature, every ridiculous square inch of clothing and makeup. "You were just another asshole ex-boyfriend from my University days that I was trying to put behind me. Still..." her voice trailed off, lingering on the sight of his erect cock poking through the pink material.

Don prodded her in the shoulder. "Doesn't look as small as you told me it was."

Jonathan finally found the wits and common sense to thrust both hands in front of his skirt, masking his humiliating arousal.

Stephanie raised an eyebrow, "Well, to be fair, I don't think he was ever able to maintain it for as long and as hard as he seems to now be able to do for you."

Jonathan shook his head in mute protest, but Don dismissed this with an idle flick of his wrist, and then swooped down to pick up the keys from the ground where Jonathan had dropped them.

Too late, Jonathan realised what he was doing, and reached out one hand to try and intercept Don. It was to no avail though, and Don looked at the keys with studied interest for a moment before clicking a button and being rewarded with the sound of the car locks opening.

"Right. Well. Much to discuss." Don said. He tossed the keys to Stephanie, who caught them deftly. "You drive, I'm calling shotgun."

Jonathan started to protest.

"Settle down princess." Don said. "You forget, I know everything... all those drunken confessions from our good ol' Fraternity days that you probably can't even remember making... all those confessions on the chat channels that I _know_ you remember making now..." He pointed at the back seat of the rental car.

"Hop in, we've got some planning to do and a lot of fun to have."

As Jonathan stood helplessly by, he watched as Don clambered into the passenger side of his car and then as Stephanie brushed past him to get to the driver's side. He could smell her perfume, and he struggled to breath for a moment as the sheer weight of the humiliation he was feeling pushed down on his chest.

He stood, caught between two futures. Did he run? If so, where to and how would he get home dressed like this? Who else might he run into? If he got in the car, what possible control over what happened next.

As he was caught between two impossible futures, he suddenly heard Stephanie pause as she was halfway into getting into the car.

"Sorry... just need to check something," she said, almost absentmindedly, "he said... well, Don said, you were... ummm...." she paused, almost as if not even knowing how to ask such a ridiculous question. Finally she settled on simply saying, "look, bend over and lift your skirt up please."

For a moment, Jonathan didn't do anything, didn't dare acknowledge the request, didn't even want to consider how to comply. Then, as if his mind was no longer in control of his own body, he felt his hands grasp the thin material of the dress. He slowly bent at the waist, his body jerking as if fighting some great internal battle, and his shaking hands slowly pulled the dress up to his stomach. Bent over, Stephanie now had a perfect unimpeded view of his silly panties and the pony that paraded on his posterior.

Entirely submissive and trying to avoid breaking out in tears, Jonathan struggled for breath but held the pose, bent over and exposed for his ex-girlfriend to simply stare at.

He was expecting a hail of laughter and some biting remark, words that would feel like a stinging slap across his vulnerable backside. Instead, all he heard was a sharp intake of breath and a muttered "my God!" before the sound of the driver's side door closing told him that Stephanie was now sitting in the car. Somehow, inexplicably, her reaction was even worse than if she'd openly mocked him, and the last bastions of resistance broke inside of him. He held the pose, shaking, for a few minutes longer and then staggered upright, using his hands to push down the dress again as if that could in anyway protect his dignity.

He looked at the two people in the car, and then silently stumbled towards the back passenger-side door, where a seat and a journey to a new life awaited him.