Trapped! Ch. 05

The moment I opened my eyes, I excitedly leapt out of bed and pranced to the window to throw open the curtains. With a mix of trepidation and anticipation, I thought about the evening that was drawing closer with every breath. I was going to the city's busiest club in a sexy Daenerys costume, on the arm of my handsome hunk of a neighbor. The catch? He, and hopefully everyone else, was oblivious to the fact that I wasn't actually a girl.

I blinked and rubbed my eyes, yawning. When they focused, I realized that a fairly good-looking man with salt-and-pepper hair in the building across the street had been watering his plants, but now was staring at me in slack-jawed lust. At this distance, I surely looked like just another slutty young girl getting out of bed in the morning, flaunting her tight, toned body in her black lace pushup bra. My window was thankfully only waist height, so the man had no idea that my girl-cock was fully erect with morning excitement right below his field of view.

Perhaps having Damian's hot, manly seed pumped into my boy-pussy had conveyed some of his confidence over to me, as I felt adventurous, sexy, and more certain than ever in my ability to pass. Even though scarcely a week ago I would have been terrified at the very thought of being seen by another person en femme, I was now a borderline sexual exhibitionist. I decided to tease the silver fox ogling me.

Pretending I hadn't noticed him, I raised up my slim arms and stretched luxuriously, in the process squeezing my fake cleavage together and tossing my tousled brown locks back in a luxurious cascade. I twisted my hips and wiggled from side to side, reveling in the sensation of my long hair brushing against my shoulders and back and the weight of my breasts swinging with every move. The friction of the thin lace thong against my shaved hole reminded me that I had an opportunity to get fucked again later, which made my clit twitch a little.

Salt and Pepper had put down his watering pot and his hands disappeared from view. Wait...could he be- Oh shit, there was no doubt about it! He was jacking himself off thinking that he was peeping on the hot slut next door, unaware of my little secret hidden behind the windowsill. The idea of being lusted and fantasized over aroused me so much, that I almost unconsciously turned around, carefully keeping my girl-cock out of sight, stood on my blood red tiptoes, and planted my plump, firm butt onto the windowsill. I turned my head to the side so that he could get a good view of my high, sharp cheekbones and blood red lips. With one hand, I began fondling the mass of silicone that created an illusion of breasts, imagining that it was real and sensitive and responding to my touch. I made a girlish moan as pre-cum oozed from my clit.

When Salt and Pepper saw my thin, toned back, accented by thick brunette waves and a strappy black lace bra strap, and two thick globes of ass separated by a matching thong, I could see him increase the pace of his furious pumping. Smiling to myself at how easily men were manipulated, my free hand began running up and down my own girl-cock in long, sensual strokes, paying extra attention to my sensitive tip. From the man's point of view, it hopefully looked like I was just fingering myself. At this point, I gave up the charade and locked eyes with Salt and Pepper, licking my lips and winking. His eyes widened and his mouth made a surprised "O" right as a jet of cum sprayed all over his potted succulents.

The idea that a strange man had just cum to my perfect feminine appearance was enough to set me over the edge as well, and my body shuddered as I released my own seed into my cupped palm.

Quickly slurping up my own cum—I had already come to crave the taste—I waved to my stunned neighbor and blew him a kiss before shutting the curtains, heart pounding. It was one thing to convince a man on the other side of the street that you were a girl, but to successfully pass in front of a bunch of strangers at the club at close proximity required extensive planning and work. My stomach did a little turn at the prospect of being seen by so many people, but I steeled my resolve and strutted to the bathroom, focusing on swinging my hips and keeping my arms close to my sides. Nobody said being a cute girl was easy!

Checking the time, I saw that I had somehow slept until noon, giving me five hours to get ready. I threw a rose-scented bath bomb into the tub and turned on the water. As I waited for it to fill, I took off my wig and brushed it, and shed my matching lace lingerie.

Grabbing my enema kit from its hiding place under the sink, I lubed up the nozzle and pumped a generous amount of saline solution into my rectum. As usual, the filling sensation involuntarily aroused me and my clit got semi-hard. Holding in the water, I shaved the little facial and public hair I had, making sure to leave a little patch above my "clit." It looked ridiculous but there was something very erotic about the incongruity of a little feminine patch of pubic hair above a veiny cock. As I plucked a few stray hairs, the "full" feeling grew to a crescendo and I hurried to the toilet to release the contents of my bowels.

Now squeaky clean inside, I turned my attention to my brows, and the tub filled right as I finished tweezing them. I slid into the steaming, scented water with a soft sigh.

After enjoying the simple girly pleasure of soaking in hot, scented water for a few minutes, I raised a thin but toned leg out of the water and grabbed the razor from the side of the bathtub. Carefully, I shaved my legs, and what was likely a mundane chore for real girls was incredibly arousing to me as the pink woman's razor removed the last traces of hair from my body.

I leaned back and enjoyed the view of my tight, feminine body underneath a mountain of foamy, scented bubbles. Wiggling my red, painted toes in luxuriant comfort, I found my hand idly tracing circles around my nipple. Usually buried under a mountain of silicone, I never really had the opportunity to play with them en femme. But as my fingers moved of their own accord, I gasped as jolts of electricity ran up my spine and I felt my little clit stiffening in the hot water. Fuck, it felt amazing! I was so very tempted to keep going, and indeed a finger on my other hand had somehow found its way into my tight little hole, but I forced myself to stop. I had work to do, and no amount of playing with myself could compare to having Damian thoroughly ravish my boy-pussy.

With renewed focus I hopped out of the bath and dried myself off before moisturizing all over with a lavender scented lotion. I then wrapped a fluffy towel around my flat chest like a real girl would before putting a wig cap on my wet hair. Ordinarily I would put on my wig before doing my makeup, even though it was more inconvenient, because I enjoyed seeing myself as a cute girl putting on her face in the mirror. Today, however, I would have to save it for last in order to avoid messing up the long silver braids in my wig.

Pulling up a Dany makeup tutorial on YouTube on my phone, I deftly mimicked the high-pitched blonde in the video and began applying pale foundation, followed by subtle contouring and highlighting to achieve a facsimile of Emilia Clarke's sharp bone structure. After the addition of some dark brown eyeshadow, false lashes, heavy mascara, straight black brow pencil, and lip filler, I finished my ensemble by popping in violet-colored contact lenses.

I squealed in delight at the transformation in the mirror. Though a far cry from my usual sultry, smoky look, it was nonetheless a resounding success. Obviously I didn't look exactly like Dany, but the flawless application of makeup had captured her icy, untouchable regality while still hinting at the smoldering sensuality beneath with thick, pouting lips. Lips that would wrap themselves around her Khal's thick cock as she looked up at him with her big, doe-like eyes.

My clit began stirring again at the visualization, so I quickly tucked myself in before pulling on an extra tight pair of white, cotton, bikini-cut panties. Dropping the towel to the floor, I then began gathering the skin and tissue on my chest towards the center, securing the newly formed cleavage with a cold, silicone, adhesive bra. I layered two more adhesive bras on top, each progressively adding more volume and deepening the inviting crevasse on my chest. Finally, I secured everything with a strapless, white Victoria's Secret push-up bra.

Underwear all set, it was time for the dress. A few months ago I had splurged on Dany's gray, floor-length halter dress from the first season, as it emphasized my narrow shoulders and prominent collarbones, while the loose, flowing construction concealed my boyish figure, despite the revealing slits up both sides. The golden armbands drew attention to my slim arms, toned but completely devoid of any muscle, and the slave collar halter neck both concealed my Adam's apple and hinted at my submissive side. As I slipped on the gorgeous dress, it felt like slipping on my real persona: that of a beautiful, seductive, young girl.

Though my costume was accurate to the show, and already sexy by itself...it was Halloween after all, so I decided to ditch the flat leather sandals for a pair of four-inch gladiator heels that forced me to stick my butt out to maintain my balance and added a girlish sway to my hips when I walked. They also revealed my toenails, painted a fuck-me red.

Finally, teetering on my heels, I applied some wig glue to the intricate silver tresses before securing it to my head with several additional clips and pins. The wig was heavy and expensive, and I didn't want it to get messed up.

To carry all my personal items, I had purchased a cute little cross-body purse that was basically just a black stuffed dragon with a long strap. I put a tube of KY jelly inside "Drogon," in addition to a few extra-large condoms, a tube of lip gloss, a tampon, some moisturizer, my keys, some cash, a compact mirror, and...shit, poor Drogon was already almost full to bursting. Girls really did have a lot of stuff to carry around.

I minced to the kitchen to take a shot of vodka to calm my nerves, and checked the clock. It was time to go. With the alcohol still on my breath, I took a deep breath before stepping out my front door. The hum of the central air conditioning seemed deafening as I could hear my heart pound like a jackhammer. This utterly taboo disguise was just so exciting and arousing, and even as my palms grew sweaty I loved every moment of it. I made my way to the elevator, got in, and pressed Damian's floor. The doors closed, and the elevator began to move.

Ding! The elevator decelerated and then stopped on the floor before Damian's. I could feel my stomach churn again as the doors opened and a couple got in, also in costume for Halloween. This was going to be the first public test of my Daenerys costume. Would they clock me or just think I was another slut ready to party?

The guy was tall, but not as tall as Damian, and in good shape. That he chose to brave the Halloween chill as a Spartan was no surprise—he had a lean, muscular build and wanted to show it off. The girl with him, presumably his girlfriend, was slightly overweight, wearing a frumpy black dress, cat-ear headband, and sneakers. Other than the whiskers painted on her cheeks and a black nose, she was not wearing makeup. A painfully obvious low-effort cat costume.

When the Spartan saw me, his brown eyes lit up noticeably, and they scanned me up and down like I was a piece of meat. The intensity of his scrutiny both aroused and terrified me. But I must have passed muster, because he smiled before getting on one knee and saying in a thick Jon Snow accent "muh queen." Down low, I could tell he was appreciating how impossibly long my legs looked in my four-inch heels through the slits in my dress, and he involuntarily licked his lips when I wiggled my red painted toes.

His girlfriend grabbed his arm and pulled him up, glaring daggers at me. Her obvious jealousy only served to spur me on, as I put a delicate hand on the Spartan's breastplate and told him that I was the breaker of chains, while sneering directly at his girlfriend.

He grinned at the jest as his girlfriend turned an ugly shade of purple, but before she could retort we had reached Damian's floor and I was out the elevator. I could feel her gaze burning a hole in my naked back, as well as her boyfriend's gaze on my thick, plump, tush.

As I reached Damian's unit, I began to grow nervous again. Would he suspect anything? More importantly, was it really just coincidence that he was going as Khal Drogo? Clenching my small hands, I took a deep breath and was about to knock on Damian's door when it suddenly opened.

For one moment I swore that towering over me was Khal Drogo himself, his hard, muscled body gleaming with oil. Damian had gotten a professional looking wig and beard that really rounded off the ferocious barbarian look. Shirtless, a faint bulge in his tight leather pants hinted at the 10 inch monster lay lurking beneath. He was every girl's fantasy, wild, untamed, dominant, and smolderingly handsome.

He should have expected a half-assed Dany from me given the mere one day's notice he'd given, but underneath the black warpaint his eyes betrayed no hint of surprise at my expensive and detailed costume.

"You're late. Your Khal demands that we leave at once!" he declared, flashing a gleaming white grin. Smoothly, one arm went under my knees and other behind my bare shoulders, and suddenly I was being carried in the arms of my hunky neighbor. Instinctively throwing my arms around his neck and nestling my face against his broad, muscular chest, I could hear his heart beating strong and loud, and if the rate it was going at was any indication, he was just as appreciative of my costume as I was of his.

A few long strides later and we were inside the elevator by ourselves. I looked upwards longingly with large, violet eyes. He sensed my gaze, looked down, and gave me a full, deep kiss. Our tongues were still swirling around each other, wet with passion, when we reached the lobby and the elevator doors opened.

My Khal gently lowered me onto the lobby's black leather couch so that he could call an Uber to take us to Jungle, the city's hottest club, and without a doubt packed as hell on Halloween. I lay a small hand on his thick bicep appreciatively as he swiped on his phone. He smiled distractedly, murmuring "Khaleesi..." and ran his other hand down my thigh, sending shivers up my spine.

It occurred to me that just a week ago, right here in the apartment lobby was where I had first met Damian. I couldn't help but feel proud of the progress I had made from a terrified closet crossdresser to feeling confident and sexy in such a short span of time. It was all thanks to the muscled hunk who was caressing my bare thigh. I wanted to thank him for releasing me from my unknowing prison somehow, and the best way I could think of to thank a man was by wrapping their cocks with my tight boy-pussy. But first, we had a night of debauchery ahead of us, and I couldn't wait!