The Red Panties Test Pt. 07

Dani Sweets

Looking back, there were a lot of choices that prompted and then shaped the transformation from the man I used to be. That initial moment of weakness in jail. My first submission to Warren's demands. Turning to Trudie and then Ayla to guide my feminisation. And being willing to suck that first cock that came through the glory hole, rather than run screaming in the other direction ...

The biggest of all may have been the Decision. Capital D, because it was simply too momentous to capture in lower case. But the one that I've always found easiest to talk about was a later event - one that finally made me take some control over my life. Or as much control as I could manage, given my circumstances.

It was an experience so wild that it left an indelible mark, both on my psyche and my memory. For as long as I live, I'll be able to remember exactly how it felt - and what distressed me the most about it.

It wasn't the pain, though that was considerable, as the man behind me vigorously plundered an asshole that wasn't ready for a cock as big as his. Especially given his penetration was being lubricated only by the cum already deposited there.

It wasn't the choking sensation as his even better endowed friend forced his huge dick down into my gullet, ignoring my gurgled protests and the tears spilling involuntarily from my eyes as I writhed in the chains that held me.

Nor was it the taunts of the other men, the ones just waiting their turn to fuck me. The men whose erect cocks were being used to slap and prod me, anywhere they could get access. Whenever they came within reach of my outstretched hands, I was expected to stroke them as best as I could. Given my limited range of movement and what else was happening to me, my best was not very good at all ... which simply induced more slaps.

It wasn't the running commentary that my employer was providing, his low, gravelly tone somehow cutting through the voices calling me a stupid slut or a useless bitch, or telling me with relish just what they were going to do when they got their chance, or warning me how much worse it would go for me if I struggled too much ... or didn't struggle enough. (Opinion seemed to be divided on that last point, which wasn't exactly a comfort.)

It wasn't even the man himself, the one who could have claimed the right to take me first but had dismissed me as not worth the time and effort. The one who had no interest in fucking me but thought it amusing to invite a group of his "associates" round to do it instead.

No, what really disturbed me was how much I was enjoying it all.

My first orgasm had come when Natasha was inside me. She was the other sissy there. Quite pretty looking, even if - like me - she wouldn't quite pass a close inspection. She actually had a fairly good-sized cock; it only seemed small by comparison to some of the monsters currently on display around the room. It had certainly felt big enough when she entered me, just as it had on previous occasions. And something about the angle of her penetration, coupled no doubt with the drugs I'd been fed to boost my performance, had for the first time ever caused me to come hands-free.

It was the strangest sensation, simultaneously intense and yet frustrating, as I yearned for my straining, spurting little dick to be enveloped in a warm pussy or mouth - or even just grasped by my hand.

The second time around felt a lot more conventional, as Natasha squatted beneath my swaying body and sucked away while I was being spitroasted. As the man behind me grunted and started pumping hot cream into me, that was enough to tip me over the edge and I began spurting my own seed into her willing mouth.

I had little time though to savour the release, or even the relief at feeling that giant spike withdrawn from my back passage. Because now it was the turn of the dude who'd been filling my throat to cram his massive length - or most of it at any rate - into my tortured "pussy." By the time he had finished with me, my asshole was gaping and oozing cum. I hardly felt the next two men, though I was plainly still tight enough to coax yet more creamy deposits out of them.

When yet another giant had me gasping once more, it was time for a third climax of my own. And by this time the first couple had recovered sufficiently to start coming in my mouth - or, if that was not available, all over my face and my newly acquired ash-blonde hair.

While all this was going on, Natasha - when she wasn't being fucked herself, as a warm-up for those waiting to get at my ass - had been collecting into a bowl some of the cum dripping from my well-cleaned ass or face, not to mention my own little cock. When the men had finished with me, I was released from my chains, put into a dog collar, led around on all fours on a leash, then forced to lick out the bowl while Natasha gave me one last fucking.

I think I may have come yet again - though it was hard to be sure, since my balls by this stage were pretty much drained.

While my fellow sissy drove herself into me, her abdomen slapping hard against my quivering buttocks, I could hear my employer being offered large sums of money to purchase me.

"Not mine to sell," he said, shaking his head regretfully. "You'd have to talk to the little slut's wife. Mind you ..."

He paused, considering, then gave a booming laugh. "Now I think about it, an auction could be fun. Yeah, I can see how that might amuse her! I'll bring it up next time I'm fucking her in front of the slut here. Though she does like having a personal slave - so much better than a husband, she says. She's even talking about having some work done, you know, giving the bitch a big pair of fake tits, then put her to work in a brothel to earn her keep ..."

All that talk should have horrified me. Yet it was somehow exciting. Which, naturally, was another thing that worried me.

By the time both Natasha and the men had finished with me, I was drenched in sweat and cum, my abused ass was sore and gaping, and a huge quantity of sperm was sitting heavily in my stomach. And I had just had the best, most exciting and scariest sex of my life ...

"And you got paid for all this? Being filmed having sex with all those ... studs? Like, the best sex ever, to hear you tell it, and it actually made you money?" Listening to the story had made Taylor's attractive blue eyes grow appreciably in size.

"Quite a bit of money, actually," I said, fighting to keep my smile from turning too smug. "Though that was all Natasha's doing, really. Even though it was my first time in front of the cameras, she negotiated a pretty good deal for me. Doesn't hurt that she doesn't just appear in a lot of their videos. She's also in and out of the director's bed. Though he doesn't know how often she's in it with his wife as well, apparently. They keep that arrangement to themselves."

"That's ... pretty wild. Are all porn makers this crazy?"

"Honestly? I couldn't tell you," I said. "That was my one and only time."

"So you wouldn't do it again? What was so terrible about it anyway? You came, what? Three, four times?"

I made a face. "It wasn't terrible, quite the reverse - but that's exactly what worried me. Thing is, it was so out of my control. I mean they weren't raping me; I'd said yes beforehand. But they could have done, and I wouldn't have been able to stop them. And getting turned on by called a bitch and a slut, and having to lick cum out of a bowl? And being threatened with huge tits? It's almost like I didn't recognise myself. Didn't want to either."

"So you're not rushing off to surgery to get a nice pair of double D-cups?"

"Oh no, I want double Fs at a minimum." I grinned and patted my chest. "No, seriously, we'll see how the hormones go first. ..."

I took a sip of wine. "As for doing another shoot, well, I keep getting begging messages. Apparently, the subscribers loved the scene. Even Natasha says it's super hot and she's not easy to impress. Says I can get double what I made last time. She said the guys who were there last time are queuing up to fuck me again."

"Nice to be wanted," said Taylor drily.

"To be honest, I haven't even seen the film. I'm not sure what would disturb me more, being shown up as such a slut, or reliving all those bad memories with Warren. Well, not memories as such , I guess, but ... like a parallel universe. Alternate reality, whatever. Everything everywhere all at a once, you know?"

"Another universe?" repeated Taylor, now looking thoroughly confused. "Everything where?"

"What, you didn't recognise the plot of my little scene?" I paused and reflected. "Oh, right, I guess I may not have filled you in on all the details of what happened with Jillian, or Warren. You know, her stepfather. Or stepfather-in-law. I didn't exactly keep it a secret. I just assumed Nico would have told you ..."

"Well no, pretty sure I didn't. But Jillian was your wife, right? And Warren ... you worked for him, I think. But how is any of that relevant to your porno?"

"Um, okay, so ... it's complicated." I frowned. "Hmmm. I guess there's actually quite a lot of stuff I haven't told you."

Taylor shrugged. "To be fair, I never really asked. I wasn't that interested in who you used to be. And if you didn't want to say too much, that seemed fair enough. I guess I just assumed your marriage broke up because you wanted to be Nikki and Jillian ... didn't want that. Or got mad when she found out about you dressing up. And as far as Warren goes I ... well, I had the sense you had a bit of a thing for him, to be honest."

"Oh, I was certainly in lust with him, that was for sure," I admitted. "Pointlessly, as it turned out. I've been trying to put it all behind me, so I guess that's why I haven't spoken about it. But that's silly, really, cos it was what made me the girl I am today. Or the girl I'm trying to become ..."

I re-tied the bows to my black chiffon peignoir, pulling it tighter around me and admiring the way it both concealed and yet revealed the underwear beneath. Long and flowing, with lacy flared sleeves, it was a present from Taylor and my favourite item of clothing.

"Okay. So ..."

It hadn't really occurred to me how important Taylor's lack of interest in my past had been when we first started going out. But now I thought about it, I could see just how liberating it had been to forge a relationship with someone who only cared about the present. It had seemed so natural that I hadn't noticed how little I had ever said about my strange journey.

The subject had only come up now because a conversation about Natasha had led to me talking about my one and only time sharing a film set with her. My new partner was broadminded enough not to be shocked by my behaviour. But what would Taylor's reaction be to the events that had led me to that point - or the subsequent choice that had been the catalyst for our relationship?

I wasn't completely sure. But I couldn't see a single good argument in favour of trying to stay silent forever. So I took a deep breath, then told the story. About how I'd been forced by Warren to work for him in women's clothing as his maid and secretary, setting me down a path where, with little real compulsion, I'd started spending as much time as Nikki, my female persona, as the man I'd been. How that had led me to question my sexuality, discovering to my considerable surprise that I enjoyed giving oral pleasure to men. And preparing for the day when Warren would, I was sure, force himself on me.

Only that day never came. Instead, the very first time I presented myself in full makeup, the man I had come to call Daddy made it clear that while he was happy to take a blowjob, he had no further interest in me sexually. A point he demonstrated in the most humiliating fashion possible. By inviting my wife round, fucking her in front of me and then having me lick his cum out of her. And explaining that my feminisation had merely been an effective way to distract me while he pursued his real target - his stepdaughter.

"So Jillian knew exactly what was going on?" asked Taylor.

"Well, she wasn't expecting me to be there when she came round to see him, but she knew about my crossdressing, yeah. Though how much, and when she'd found out, I didn't know at that stage. She told me she was going away with Warren, but when she returned, she'd tell me what was going to happen to me, and whether I could stay in her house. Her house, mind, not ours, So I had a few days in which to figure out what to do."

"Oh god Nikki, that just sounds horrible! Just to abandon you like that, and then assume it was up to her to tell you what to do ... And all this after you found out she was having an affair behind your back! You must really have hated her for that."

"Hated her? Oh no, not really. I mean, she was clearly under Warren's spell, just like I was. And after seeing him with her ... well I couldn't blame her for preferring him over me. He was everything I couldn't be. Seemed like we both wanted a real man, only Jillian was the one who got him ..."

I pursed my lips, relishing as always the taste and scent of the gloss that coated them. "If I hated anyone, it was myself. For being so weak." It was the same thing I'd told Trudie, the first time I'd talked about what happened. And it was still, all this time later, how I felt.

Taylor frowned. "So you thought becoming Nikki was, what, a mistake? One you wouldn't have made if you'd been stronger?"

"Oh no. Or rather, maybe, yeah, I did believe that at one point. But the more I thought about it I decided that I preferred being Nikki. For all the effort it took and the anxiety about being caught, I just felt more ... comfortable isn't the right word, it's never been that. But I guess ... I felt like there was more to me. I got to play someone more interesting, and definitely a lot prettier. I could be a better version of myself."

"Okay, so you enjoyed being Nikki. But that took a lot of strength too, right? I mean you weren't just dressing up. You were going a lot further, and that takes guts. So I'm still not seeing how any of this makes you weak."

I smiled. "Now you sound like Emmy. Or Trudie. They were both incredibly supportive, just when I needed it most ... But the weakness wasn't just being scared of Warren. It was being so dependent on him, so desperate for his attention. I mean, it was clear he had no real interest in me, but I was still thinking of going back to work for him. Even though he'd just cuckolded me. Not to mention suggesting that he might invite a bunch of friends over to play Fuck the Sissy while they reminisced about all the fun they'd had in prison. Mind you, I quite liked the sound of that ..."

"Aha, so that's where the porno idea came from?"

"Yep, though whether the real thing could have matched up to what I got from those lovely guys ... well, I'm not planning to find out, am I? That itch has been well and truly scratched. Unless of course you have some friends you want to share me with?"

I giggled at the look on Taylor's face. "Just kidding babe! Don't worry, I'll get to the bit where I made a porno. But anyway, what changed the way I thought about Warren was some useful advice I got from someone who didn't even know him - just the type of man he was."

It was Emmy who put me in touch with her. I'd gone to see Emmy while I was waiting for Jillian to get back. I told her everything, even though I'd only met her once before, on that amazing night when she took me to the glory hole. Talking to Trudie and her girlfriend Mikayla had shown me how much I could gain from sharing my problems.

When I had my heart to heart with Emmy, I had only just decided that I wanted to change from being Emile to Nikki, and I had no idea about the state or future of my marriage, my job, my home, ... none of it. Whereas my new friend had been transitioning for years, had her own place, a worthwhile (if not financially rewarding) job at a victims of crime support group, and a clear preference for sex without commitments.

Interestingly though, she didn't spend time trying to tell me what to do. What grabbed her attention was that Warren clearly saw me as no different to the various sissies he'd encountered in prison. He could see both my physical weakness and my willingness to be feminised, and knew just what buttons to press to keep me in line.

Emmy said she knew some "girls" who'd gone into prison male, but came out irrevocably changed. And she thought it might be helpful if I spoke to one of them, to get more of a sense of what I might be in for if I stayed in Warren's orbit. And as it turned out, she was dead right.

Her name was Kimmy. I caught up with her over coffee on the same day Jillian was due to return. She was softly-spoken and really sweet. But her story wasn't.

Like me, she had failed the red panties test, at the same prison I had spent that one fateful night. But where I had merely been haunted by the thought of what could have been done to me after my weakness had been exposed, she hadn't been so lucky.

Serving a three-year stretch for fraud, she had been claimed by one of the tougher inmates. But unlike Nicole, the pretty young man who'd been my unlikely protector during my brief stay inside, she hadn't become the man's girlfriend and earned the opportunity to share his privileges and protection. Instead she'd been turned into a heroin addict and whored out to a succession of other prisoners. Two of her "customers" had got into a knife fight over her services, which had proved fatal for one of them and scarring for her - both physically and emotionally. She had been lucky to keep her eyes, but the effects of the deliberately disfiguring slashes were still vividly apparent on her face. Not that they had stopped her from being put back to work as soon as she returned from her stay in hospital ...

Fortunately, life had improved for Kimmy since she got out. She was clean now, she told me, and had found a job working in a queer bar - which was where she'd met Emmy. She had also just started to go out with what she called a "nice boy," though she was some way yet from being able to even think about the possibility of having sex with him. Her only experiences of that sort since she had been released had been with ex-cons who had recognised her type and more or less forced themselves on her, while she was still working her way off the heroin. Feeling stronger now, she'd learnt what sort of places to stay away from, to reduce the chance of further encounters.

I asked Kimmy if she'd thought about going back to her old life as a man. She shook her head. "That guy is long gone. I wouldn't even know him anymore. Besides ... I actually quite like being a woman, you know?" I smiled and nodded; I certainly did know.

"And I mean I was gay already, very much a bottom too. So it wasn't as if I disliked men or being fucked. Just ... the lack of choice. And the violence." She shuddered. "I just hated being so ... so scared, all the time."

Her message was simple and clear: stay away from the bad men. I resolved then and there to take her advice, as best I could. If I had the choice, I wouldn't go back to work for Warren. Even if I could trust him to leave me alone, which maybe I could, given his preference for Jillian, there was no guarantee his "friends" would do the same.

It was strange, but only a few days ago I'd been ready to throw myself at him. He was no longer just my stepfather-in-law, nor even my employer, but my master, and I his all-too-willing slave. And if I was honest, I still felt the pull to return to his service, to be whoever and whatever he wanted me to be. Even if that meant being a fucktoy for his associates. Did I mention the part about being excited at that prospect?