Trapped in Number Six Pt. 03

For what felt like the hundredth time that day, Dylan fought the urge to glance down at his legs. After all, if he could feel what was under his pants, surely everyone else could see it as well?

As he walked into the lobby of the building where the morning's lecture was being held, his eyes darted around to see if any of the other students were staring at him.

He didn't think they were, but he couldn't be entirely sure. He never was, these days. There was always that sense that, no matter how well he hid what he got up to, someone would see through his facade.

For the past two months he'd been spending three or four evenings each week at Katja's apartment, doing what he'd started on that fateful night in the sixth cubicle of the toilet block down by the park.

Being Natalie. And not just dressing as her, but performing as her.

Lying on a bed, showing her butt, opening the cheeks wide as if inviting penetration, sucking a vibrator and then sliding it in and out of her tight passage. Caressing her legs, playfully snapping the suspenders on her garter belt. Teasing her nipples until they ached.

Stroking her hard cock, the only thing on display that was indisputably masculine, until it erupted with cum that she could cram into her lascivious mouth.

And talking seductively to the camera, about what she'd like to do to every man watching, about how badly she needed their cocks, about her craving to be fucked ...

For the first couple of times, this had all been done for a recording and nothing else - or so he'd been told.

But since then he'd worked with Katja's laptop, exchanging messages with what was clearly a live audience, taking requests and thanking the hidden watchers when they tipped him.

Katja Insisted that the clientele for his performance was both limited and discreet. But he wasn't so sure, about the former at any rate. He was getting a lot of messages, and the amounts that seemed to be ticking up as each session progressed were huge.

Not that he wasn't profiting. He was getting paid for his services, and handsomely, even if the amounts that arrived in his account from an obscure overseas investment firm were only a fraction of what his viewers appeared to be paying. He would soon have enough for a car, perhaps even to move out of his parents' home and get a place of his own.

But there was also, of course, a cost.

The memory of being so terrified in the toilet block had slowly faded. He hadn't again seen the huge men who had terrorised him, and enjoyed blowjobs at his expense.

Katja and her friend Holly, the two sex workers who had feminised him and turned him into a cam girl, had been nothing but friendly and helpful. But they were still the agents of his captivity.

Because that's how he still thought of himself, as being trapped in that cubicle. The walls of his world may have expanded, but he was stuck as Natalie. And not just on the nights he visited Katja.

Not now he was being instructed to practise his makeup at home, something he could only do when taking what he pretended was a long bath, or snuck back during the day while his parents were at work and his little sister at school.

His sister, who had no idea (he hoped!) that while she was studying he was in her bedroom, trying on her clothes, and practising walking around in the highest heels that either she or their mother owned ...

He had never spoken to the "boss" to whom the other girls reported, and they were clearly too frightened to reveal whatever they knew about him. But the mysterious figure's orders were clear - and with so much compromising material about Dylan in his possession, there was no question they would be obeyed.

It wasn't all bad, of course. Dylan was getting to spend regular time with two hot young women whom he could never have expected to hook up with in ordinary circumstances. He certainly couldn't have afforded to pay for their services - well, until recently, at any event.

He didn't get to have full sex with them. B there was usually one day a week when they would join him on the bed, let him kiss and fondle them and return the favour, and help bring his aching cock closer to orgasm by using their superlative oral skills.

Strangely, perhaps, what he enjoyed most was going down on them and making them come. Not all their orgasms were genuine, they admitted, but he was learning to tell the difference - and also how to really please them.

What was perhaps both best and worst of his current situation was that he could actually enjoy being Natalie, if he stopped worrying long enough.

He liked the feel of her clothes, the scent of her perfume, the taste of her lipstick - and above all, the freedom to be bold and provocative.

When she was talking to the camera. Natalie was a hot sissy trap who wanted cock. Whereas Dylan was an unprepossessing young man who once had a thing for his best friend Sam, but was otherwise definitely hetero in his tastes - and struggled to talk to girls. let alone form relationships.

All things considered, being Natalie was a lot more fun ...

Except, that is, when it came to attending classes with lacy panties, sheer stockings and suspenders underneath his shirt and trousers.

His socks were pulled up as high as they would go so that no sign of the hose would peep through at his ankles. But in his imagination, every single person he walked past had x-ray vision.

All week, he'd been instructed to come to university like this, with his makeup purse in his rucksack. That's all he'd been told. And with each passing day it hadn't got any less fraught.

He felt a light squeeze on his upper arm and a figure brushed past him. "Hi Dylan!" called a cheery voice.

He stared at the figure retreating from him. "Uh, hi Rina," he managed, and was rewarded with a glimpse of a flashing smile as she glanced back at him, before disappearing into the lecture theatre.

Nonplussed, he followed her into the classroom and took a seat, wondering what would cause the best looking girl in the class to suddenly take an interest in him.

Oh, they knew one another. This was the third class they'd taken together and they had worked on at least one group project, an experience that had demonstrated that Rina was a lot smarter than she generally let on.

But they weren't friends, and he couldn't recall the last time they'd even spoken.

She was quite the contradiction, he thought, staring at her as she took a seat on the other side of the room and elegantly crossed her long legs.

Despite what some people would doubtless have called her exotic beauty - she was Lebanese, he thought - she invariably dressed in the cheapest and most basic clothes. And he had never seen her in anything but scuffed and dirty running shoes.

Yet she was reputed to be from an insanely wealthy family, something hinted at by the quality of the jewellery she favoured. Whatever her apparel too, or the state of her hair, she was always beautifully made up, accentuating the dark eyes that were her most captivating feature.

She would also happily talk to anyone about sport (something for which Dylan himself had little time), but professed no interest in music or pop culture.

She also appeared to be entirely absent from social media: he had looked for her, just as he assumed many other guys in the class had done. Yet she always seemed to know who was doing what to whom. Maybe she just had a really good network of spies, he thought.

She was still very much on his mind when, as they were walking out of a lecture to which he had paid not the slightest attention, he saw her making a beeline towards him.

Stopping in front of him, a broad and apparently genuine smile on her face, she asked: "So, Dyl, want to go and get a drink tonight?"

He was conscious of heads around him turning to look his way. He should have been stricken dumb with amazement, or fear, or both. And the old Dylan would have. But he'd been playing Natalie very successfully for the past two months. And if he could do that, he could certainly play a cooler version of himself.

"Sure," he responded, affecting a nonchalance he most certainly didn't feel.

"Great!" replied Rina brightly. "See you at the clocktower at seven, yeah?" And to his utter astonishment, she reached in and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

But as she did so, he felt her hand briefly run down his thigh and then stop as she traced the outline of the stocking tops underneath his trousers.

"See you later - Natalie," she breathed, so quietly that if it hadn't been for that knowing touch, he might have thought he'd imagined it.

And then she was sweeping away, laughing at the expressions on the faces of the posse of acquaintances - somehow, she never gave the impression of having friends as such - that always seemed to surround her.

And Dylan was left trying his hardest not to gape in shock, but instead acknowledge the quizzical or even frankly jealous looks he was getting with the calmest and blandest of smiles.

He managed pretty well, he thought. But his mind was still a whirl when, a minute or so later, it registered that someone was calling his name.

He looked around and realised with a start that he was still standing in what was now an empty classroom - except for the woman staring at him, her eyebrows raised as if demanding an explanation.

"I'm sorry Professor Lane," Dylan said in a contrite tone. "Was there something you wanted?"

He'd always liked Monica Lane, even when she was tearing one of his arguments to shreds or, just as often, excoriating him for agreeing with her too readily.

"Think!" she would demand, tapping the side of her temple, her eyes magnified by her bright, horn-rimmed glasses, and her spiky iron-grey hair vibrating as if responding to the intensity of her exhortation. "What's the counter-argument?"

The one thing he could be sure of with her was that she would always be brutally honest with him. This time was clearly going to be no different.

"Ah, he's woken up!" she exclaimed. "And there was I thinking you'd caught somnambulism from the blockheads in the back row." She flashed him a brittle smile. "Care to give me a quick recap of my conclusion?"

She waited a few seconds, then prompted: "You know, from the lecture you just sat through?"

"I -, well, I mean ..."

She waved her hand irritably. "Don't bother. I could see you were off on some other planet."

Her expression softened. "Look, with most of the bozos in that class, if they want to come and daydream, or do whatever it is your generation is doing when you're tapping away at what fossils like me still call a phone, what do I care? As long as they're keeping quiet."

She shook her head. "But you're one of my best students, Dylan. Or you were, anyway. I just don't know what's going on with you this term, I really don't."

She smiled again, but this time far more warmly. "Look, I know whatever it is, it's none of my business. But if there's anything you want to talk about ...?"

Just for a second, Dylan was actually tempted to take her into his confidence. But he wasn't sure she'd believe what he had to say. And besides, he couldn't risk it getting back to whatever shady organisation he was working for that he'd been indiscreet. So he shook his head.

"Pity," she said and moved to walk away. Then she stopped. "One other thing though. I saw you talking to Rina? I would watch yourself there. There's something not quite right with that one."

Without waiting to see his reaction, she turned on her heel and left him alone in the theatre. He stared at her, wondering what it was that she knew, or thought she knew, that would prompt such a warning.

Dylan spent the rest of the afternoon in a daze. A couple of other students tried to engage him in conversation. Not his few friends, or ex-friends rather. They had all now given up trying to break through the barriers of self-absorption that his recent experiences had created. These were simply classmates who had probably heard of his unexpected liaison and wanted to get the goss.

He fobbed them off and went back to worrying about how on earth Rina could know of his secret identity - and, more pressingly, what on earth she had in store for him.

He very nearly didn't go. But at the last minute, he decided that it was better to know what was going on. And besides, if she knew all about him, he could only guess what she might decide to do - or disclose - if he failed to show.

In the end, he had to run part of the way across campus to make it on time and was out of breath when he arrived at the appointed location. Rina was already there.

"Hi sweetie," she smiled, reaching in to plant her second unexpected kiss of the day on his cheek. "Ooh, you're all sweaty! Can't have that! Come with me."

Before he could say anything she had seized him by the hand and was leading him away from the brightly lit square in front of the clocktower, then down a darkened alley that ran between two buildings.

Opening a nondescript door that he had never previously noticed, then pulling him down a deserted corridor, she arrived at a ladies' bathroom. She ducked inside, took a quick look around, then beckoned him to join her.

"Come on," she said, stifling the protest she could see he was about to utter. The smile was gone and she was all business now.

"We don't have that much time. And you're perfectly safe here. Hardly anyone even knows about this place, let alone uses it. I change here all the time."

The "hardly anyone" was not as reassuring as it might have been. But Dylan knew that he had to find out just how deep this rabbit hole went. Sighing, he followed her into the bathroom, looking around nervously as if scared someone would leap out from one of the cubicles.

Dropping a couple of shopping bags on the floor, Rina instructed: "Clothes off. The boring ones I mean."

Without waiting for an answer, she kicked off her shoes and began to pull her faded sweatshirt over her head. As it came free, she threw it on the floor and started unbuttoning her jeans, then stopped and frowned at him.

"Is there something wrong with your hearing? I said clothes off! Or do you need me to get Katja here to do it for you?"

Dylan glanced around nervously, but began unbuckling his belt. "You know Katja?"

Rina grinned. "In the biblical sense you mean? Not as often as I'd like. But yes, we've met."

She stripped off her jeans, revealing to Dylan's considerable surprise that she was wearing lingerie that exactly matched his own, down to the lace boyshorts and the elaborate design at the top of the black stockings that adorned her shapely legs. Unlike him, she had a matching bra, through the black lace of which her nipples were clearly visible. She waited until he had disrobed, then reached down to one of the bags.

"If you've finished staring at my tits, you can have some of your own. Here." She threw him a bra with padded cups, then laughed at his fumbling attempt to put it on and fasten the clips.

"Not got the hang of that yet, I see. This should be a bit easier though." She pulled two black garments from the bag. "One for you, one for me."

"This" turned out to be an elegant cocktail dress, with floral lace inserts and a short skirt that flared out slightly and was just about long enough to cover Dylan's stocking tops.

Rina zipped up the back of his dress, turned to allow him to do the same for her, then inspected him, pursing her lips. "Hmmm, not bad at all. But even better with the right accessories."

From the other bag, she produced the most stunning shoes Dylan had ever seen. They were black, like the dresses, but etched with intricate white floral patterns that wound down and around both the sides and the slim, skyscraper heels.

Dylan slipped his feet into them - or tried to. They were too small. "They don't fit," he said, unable to hide his disappointment.

"No?" said Rina. "Oh! Sorry babe, you've got my pair. Here you go."

This time, they fitted perfectly. Rina watched with an amused smile as Dylan walked down to one end of the bathroom and then back, hips swaying and a dazed look on his face.

"I can see you've been practising," said Rina. "Divine, aren't they?" Dylan nodded.

"Well they should be," continued Rina, "they cost almost as much as what I'm told you earn on a good night." She laughed at his expression. "Don't worry. If you haven't already worked it out, we share the same employer."

Dylan stated at her. "You mean, you're a ... a cam girl too?"

"Nope," said Rina, "my talents lie elsewhere. But enough chit-chat, we still have to get you looking as fabulous as you'll need to be. Got your makeup?" He nodded.

"Get your face on then," she instructed. "At the moment, you're a guy in a dress. It's Natalie I want to see."

Working as quickly as he could, he applied his makeup, including to the middle of his chest to enhance the appearance of cleavage (a trick Katja had taught him), and painted his nails. When he had finished, he presented his face for inspection.

"There she is!" exclaimed Rina, affecting delight. "But I think we can make some improvements there ..."

She found her own makeup case and started adding to what he had done. By the time she had finished, his eyes in particular were a lot more heavily accented, matching hers.

"Couple more things," she said, reaching into her bag again. The first item was a wig with long, lustrous blue-black hair, again replicating her own look. Dylan's hair was steadily growing out, but was still too short to do much with. So he was grateful for the artificial enhancement.

Next came some gold earrings, bracelets and a necklace with a pendant that settled down between his "breasts." He remarked to Rina on the weight of the jewellery.

"That's because they're solid gold," she's said, scooping up their discarded clothes and stuffing them into the bags. "They're worth even more than the shoes. Don't you dare lose them ... Now come on, time we headed off. Oh, hang on! One more thing."

She pulled out a small bottle and sprayed the two of them with a delightful fragrance. "And yes, before you ask, that perfume's expensive too. Nothing but the best for our evening out. Right, let's go!"

"But where are we -" Dylan's question died on his lips as Rina stalked out of the bathroom, her heels clattering on the tiles. He hurried after her and caught up just as she was going to exit the building.

"Wait!" he cried desperately. "I've never ... I mean ..." He gestured helplessly at himself.

"You haven't been out as Natalie, right?" she asked, her hand on the door knob. He shook his head.

"Well, about time you did - and had some fun too. Look, I've seen what you can do as her. Just be her again, right now. Come on."

Without further ado she opened the door and stepped out into the warm night air.

Dylan hesitated, closed his eyes, then thought to himself: Be Natalie. It's Natalie's night out. Just be her.

It was Dylan who had walked into that building half an hour earlier, But Natalie was the one to emerge. Nervously, she followed Rina back out to the main thoroughfare and then in the direction that would take them towards the city centre. But she had only taken a few steps before her world came crashing down.

"Oh, hey Rina!"

The young woman who stopped in front of them was all too familiar. Natalie wasn't quite sure of her name: Elaine, Aleina, something like that? But she was definitely in their class - and she would know Dylan, if only by sight.

"Wow, great look honey!" gushed the newcomer. Her eyes flicked onto Natalie, who held her face still but waited with sick certainty for the outcry that would surely result from being recognised.

But amazingly, she saw no more than the briefest hint of a frown on Elaine/Aleina's face, before the latter's attention returned to Rina.