Trapped! Ch. 06

Damian gallantly helped me out of the Uber, as I was not nearly experienced enough to get up from a seated position in my four-inch heels, before casually yet possessively putting his arm around my shoulders. A massive line of at least a hundred shivering people in various Halloween costumes snaked around the block, but Damian ignored them and began gently steering me toward the entrance of Jungle. A few people in line looked up from their miserable huddling to give us thinly-veiled dirty looks.

"What about the line?" I asked timidly. Though my skimpy Daenerys costume provided no protection against the winter chill, I felt warm and safe with Damian holding me. I was amazed at how he shrugged off the temperature even though he was technically wearing less than me in his barbaric Khal Drogo costume.

"A Khal waits for no one," he quipped, grinning. "Nor does his Khaleesi."

I shivered, not from the cold, but from the way he casually said I was his, like I was some object. As we neared the front of the line, I noticed a group of college-aged boys dressed as matching Teletubbies, and when they saw me in my detailed, revealing costume, their eyes visibly lit up. Even though all my fantasies involved me being seen and admired as a pretty girl, I nonetheless blushed and looked down as their hungry gazes devoured my body with unrestrained lust. As we drew nearer, the purple one made a motion like he was going to say something to me, but before he could, his green friend grabbed him and gave a pointed look at the towering Damian and his rippling muscles. Purple Teletubby held his peace, but as soon as they were behind us and out of sight of my intimidating date, I could feel all four of them staring at my perky butt, forced into an incredibly suggestive position by my sky-high heels.

And they weren't the only ones to notice my handsome neighbor. A pretty Harley Quinn and her voluptuous Catwoman friend also made eyes at him as we passed, but Damian kept his gaze coolly ahead, and lightly but perceptibly tightened his grip on my bare shoulder to reassure me that he was thinking only of me. To return the favor, I pointedly avoided eye contact with a very convincing Jon Snow despite his desperate attempts to wave me down. As we made our way down the queue, people of both genders noticed us as an attractive power-couple, oblivious to the girl-cock securely trapped in my panties, and gave us varying looks of admiration and jealousy.

As we approached the very large, very annoyed-looking bouncer standing behind a wooden podium, I suddenly realized one crucial fact: I didn't bring my ID. When getting ready I had glanced over it with my boring boy-mode photo and automatically dismissed it. But now I realized too late that without it, I wouldn't be getting into the club.

Panicking, I tried to get Damian's attention but he had already gently released me to walk up to the bouncer, who had just waved in a tall girl dressed in a skimpy Wonder Woman costume. After exchanging a handshake and a pat on the back, they began conversing in low voices. At first, the bouncer was shaking his head, but Damian looked back at me, which drew the bouncer's gaze as well. As the man leered at my exposed body, I clutched at my own shoulders, suddenly cold without the protective warmth of Damian shielding me. This caused me to involuntarily squeeze my faux cleavage together even further. The bouncer's grin widened.

"Slut," I heard a girl mutter jealously behind me. I didn't bother turning around.

The bouncer looked back at Damian, nodded, then made a beckoning gesture for me to go over, which I did.

"We normally don't give your boyfriend here any trouble," he explained. "But it's Halloween and management's all over my ass."

I blushed again at the implication that I was his "girlfriend." I mean, we were wearing matching costumes, after all, and we were certainly both very attractive. Of course, neither of them could have suspected that I wasn't even really a girl.

The bouncer looked around before leaning in and lowering his voice. "But for fifty each, I'll risk it."

Despite the ridiculous amount, Damian immediately got out his wallet and pulled out a hundred. The bouncer didn't even look at him, instead keeping his eyes on me. "And I'm going to have to pat you down to make sure you're not bringing anything in that you're not supposed to."

Damian turned and looked at me intently. We all knew what the bouncer was really asking for: permission to fondle and grope me in public in front of hundreds of partygoers. Was this really worth skipping the line for? Damian said nothing and kept his expression neutral but his piercing eyes examined my face as I struggled internally.

By staying silent, Damian was respectfully leaving the decision of my bodily autonomy to me. He didn't presume to refuse on my behalf, and I glowed a little at his thoughtfulness. But was this some kind of test? Would he think I was a slut for trading my body to save a bit of time? For a long moment, I froze, torn with indecision. Finally, I decided that I would trust what my instincts as an attractive, slutty, young girl told me to do.

Unzipping my little dragon purse to expose the contents, I stepped up to the bouncer and, back straight, proudly held my arms out to the sides.

Stepping up to me, he drank in the sight of my extravagantly detailed Daenerys costume. Intricate silver braids graciously descended down to my slim waist, and the soft linen dress clung to my body in all the right places yet flowed where my boyish figure was at a disadvantage, hanging from a golden halter neck that cleverly concealed my Adam's apple. In a deviation from canon, I was wearing impractical four-inch gladiator sandals, in addition to lipstick, nail and toenail polish in bright, fuck-me red. Otherwise, my flawlessly applied makeup and violet contact lenses completed the illusion of the alluring Dragon Queen. Unbeknownst to anybody but myself, the real illusion was the one safely tucked away in my white, cotton panties. I was my own harshest critic when it came to passing, but I was certain that my sexy, extravagant costume was a sight to behold. Even so, I was a little surprised when the bouncer grinned and pushed Damian's hand holding the hundred dollar bill away as he stood up and approached me.

I didn't close my eyes, and instead stared regally at the bouncer with violet eyes. He merely smirked, and began by squatting down and reaching under my dress to place his sweaty, meaty hands around my slim ankles. How unlike Damian's gentle touch this was! Though equal in unrestrained lust, the man's clumsy groping was not meant to pleasure me, but merely himself.

Slowly but surely, he began running his paws up my long, smooth legs, and I could feel his rough, calloused palms slide against first my gladiator sandals and then my calves. Because my dress was slit up the sides all the way to my hips, the bouncer was able to continue to slowly caress my beautiful legs as he slowly stood up without causing my dress to hike up. He stopped a few inches from my panties, just as I began to panic, to knead my fleshy and sensitive thighs for a few seconds, causing me to bite my lip involuntarily. Abruptly, he released my legs. He knew better than to try for anything else below the belt. That was fortunate for me, as his rough ministrations had caused my little girl-cock to swell in the gusset of my tight, white panties, and I did not want him to wonder what that extra piece of flesh was.

Behind me, I could both hear and feel the line go silent, as everyone stopped what they were doing to watch the fat bouncer fondle the pretty Daenerys before them. Even though I couldn't see them, my face burned at the attention I was getting. I heard a few phone camera sounds as people undoubtedly took photos. Damian continued to watch intently.

Next, the bouncer forcefully grabbed the full globes of my ass, causing me to gasp. I loved having my pert butt touched, and at that moment I learned that apparently it didn't matter to me who touched it. The man then slid his hands up to my narrow waist, at all times maintaining full contact between his palms and my tight dress, before bringing them up to my half-exposed "breasts." His beady eyes were locked onto the full, gently heaving cleavage before him. Having felt myself up numerous times before, I was confident that the mass of skin, muscle, and Nu-bra could be safely fondled as long as my push-up bra kept everything under wraps.

The bouncer licked his lips before fully cupping my breasts. Even though I barely felt anything, I gave a little feminine moan the way I imagined a real girl would at having her breasts fondled. At this sound, the bouncer jerked violently, and abrupt released me before dashing back behind the podium. It didn't escape my notice that a small dark patch had appeared in his jeans before he did so.

Rather than feeling used, I smiled like the Cheshire cat knowing that just touching my tight, girly body had been enough to cause a man to ejaculate into his pants. There was nothing that could confirm my femininity more than this, and I reveled in the feeling of accomplishment. With my feminine sensuality, the world was my oyster, and I felt sexy, empowered, and more like a girl than ever.

Though the bouncer's podium had a small UV light to shine onto IDs to check for authenticity, he quickly waved us through the door while embarrassedly looking away. Nobody mentioned that Damian, the guy and the one more likely to be carrying contraband, had not even been searched. Well, I was technically also a guy, but that was beside the point... As Damian took my hand and strode in, I heard voices swell in complaint behind us at how we essentially cut the line for free, as well as a few catcalls, whistles, and mutters of "fucking slut."

Damian's face was inscrutable and we became engulfed in the booming bass of dance club music as we passed the coat check, making further conversation impossible. I wondered with concern if he was disgusted with my slutty behavior.

As we made our way down the dark corridor, I struggled to keep my balance in my teetering heels, but noticed a sign for the bathroom. With my adrenaline wearing off, I suddenly realized that my bladder was full, and that I really needed to go. Dressed as I was, I knew belonged in the ladies' room, but was feeling butterflies in my stomach again at the very idea. Somehow, despite having been fucked by Damian twice without him discovering my real gender, and despite having passed convincingly as a sexy, young girl to the crowd outside, it suddenly felt like the real test would be the women's bathroom, the hallowed sanctum of femininity.

I squeezed Damian's hand to get his attention, and he stopped, correctly intuiting I wanted to go to the bathroom. He turned to me, and I suddenly felt weak-kneed at the raw, animalistic power in those dark eyes. In that moment I wanted more than anything for him to rip off my dress and fuck me. Instead, he cupped my chin, and brought my face up to his for a long, sensual kiss. As our tongues entwined, his other hand snaked around my waist to knead my butt, and I closed my eyes and moaned involuntarily into his mouth. Dammit, if the man didn't know my weak spot before, he certainly did now.

Breaking our kiss, he leaned in next to my ear so that I could hear him over the blaring music and said, "What you did out there was fucking hot."

I turned bright red. So I guess he wasn't disgusted at my slutty, exhibitionist tendencies, after all. If anything, it turned him on! Not knowing what to say, I kissed him firmly on the lips again, his Khal Drogo beard scratching my face pleasantly, before turning on my heels and walking into the ladies' bathroom.

My wild imagination had pictured a pleasantly scented, spacious lobby with cushions and mirrors, and several attractive women lounging around chatting or fixing their makeup. Instead, it was a small, three-stalled bathroom that looked identical to the men's room minus the urinals. It was also completely empty, and I breathed a sigh of relief as my heels clicked on the black tiles to the first open stall.

I closed the door, hiked my dress to the side, and carefully sat down, enjoying the girlishness of the simple task. Looping my fingers into my tight cotton panties, I pulled them down my thighs and my girl-cock sprang free, half-engorged from my make-out session with Damian. Sighing, I began peeing and the toilet reverberated with the sound of my release.

At that exact moment, the tall, attractive Wonder Woman who had gotten in ahead of us opened my stall door—I belatedly realized it wasn't auto-locking—came in, and shut and locked the door behind her, all in one smooth motion.

I shrieked and covered up my still-peeing girl-cock, but like in the Uber, realized I couldn't get up in my ridiculously high heels.

Wonder Woman put a manicured hand over my mouth, roughly grabbing my contoured cheeks. Even in my panic and distress I couldn't help but notice that her skimpy costume fit her thin, fit, model-like body like a glove. My shrieks were reduced to muffled whining.

"Shh, you don't have anything to be afraid of," she said, smiling. "Your secret's safe with me."

As I squirmed and reached up to remove her hand from my mouth, she used her free hand to flip up the skirt of her costume, revealing a large, bulging mound where there should only have been the smooth front of a pair of panties.

I froze. A small wet spot was evident on the right side of her panties, and as she pulled them down, she confirmed that the fluid was in fact pre-cum, oozing from her semi-erect, tumescent, six-inch cock.

With one hand still firmly locked over my mouth, she began to slowly stroke her girl-cock while watching my shocked reaction with unbridled lust.

"After all, we girls have to stick together."