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DISCLAIMER
All persons mentioned in the following story are 18+ years of age
…
“It’s easy to find god in a sunset, its rather more difficult to find God in a pencil.”
The plan was simple, and yet that everpresent feeling in the stomach remained. Monday, glorious European sunshine in the garden. 3 hours remaining until the sound of a shower drowns out my chastity cage’s padlock slamming up and down…
I should really get one that has an internal lock now that I think about it. A flat one, for it does seem that mine is rather too big. I’m what they call a ‘grower’ you see. And the change is rather drastic and remarkable. When soft one might even call what I have between my sizeable thighs a button. But I must admit when I’m aroused I’m a solid 6 inches, and this is quite a predicament to be in for someone who wishes to be limp and leaking at all times. But I digress.
The vibrations of my 8-inch BBC dildo should also be obscured by the water but I’m never sure. It sounds louder when its inside me. The last sound I wish to mask is my moaning, and yet at the same time I really want to be able to practise moaning higher and higher. Living with others is making that a tad difficult and embarrassing. Maybe I should find a sugar mummy. Or just some kinky host. A twink maybe. Or a larger girl with goth tendencies. The pool of the mind is rippling with thoughts of depravity and darkness lit by strobe and neon and latex and leather.
I haven’t done my laundry in a few days, and for some reason it’s remaining undone. Well, I know the reason. It’s not clothes i enjoy wearing. Joggers, compression tops for the gym, hoodies etc. In short, bland and boring boy clothes. Perhaps if I had a wardrobe I dreamed of I would have more motivation to wash my clothes. If instead of boxer shorts and grey shirts I had a wardrobe of silk then maybe I’d want to do my laundry. In the seasons of my life when I did decide to indulge and buy a minidress or a leotard of pink, it’s all I wore in my room. I preferred to be caged and dressed up as opposed to naked. Naked is masculine and revealing. Covered up in a thong and a tight skirt is preferable.
I do have some items of note however, a black crotchless maid’s thong, complete with white frilly front and a nice bow. Some white panties with a hole in the front where my caged nub can dangle freely, and a hole ar the back to fill. Gosh how I crave to fill it until a trembling state of ecstasy. I’ve been fasting all day simply because it leaves the body sensitive and the stomach empty to penetrate fully, an anal douche görükle escort would simply clean out the inside so that i could bounce like a little bimbo on my fake monster cock. It’s such a drag to have to clean out my boipussy and wait for the filth to run clean. By fasting I can remain clean all day so that when I get the urge, which happens all day, I can simply run to the bathroom and begin riding my toy like a little slut.
All day I’ve been listening to some sissification hypno and sneaking off during work to watch porn in the toilet. No touching you understand, simply standing naked, watching denial porn and clenching my clitty and pelvic muscles.
…
Now I’ve finished working, and I’m lying down in a mesh thong for men, with ample room at the front to pop my shaven shaft and balls.
Any minute now I will grab the numbing lube and go to the shower. I have something new I want to practice but I know I’m in for a long haul. The goal is to eventually be able to bounce happily up and down until a dry orgasm, limp the entire time. This means Sliding down onto the dripping toy without getting hard (currently impossible), and grinding away. The moment I find myself getting harder I must stop until completely limp with the cock still inside. Once limp I begin again. Then repeat until the feeling of complete softness somehow feels the same as being rock solid. When the permanent state is limp and dripping, then one is successful.
What is it about being impotent, unable to even reach an erection, makes one so hard? A paradox indeed. The thought may run back through years all the way to some past experience or fantasy. In my case, I remember vividly always having a specific fantasy in my college years. The fantasy is as follows:
I have gym class and somehow, against all logic and reality, I end up in the girls’ changing room by ‘accident’ instead of the boys’. Again, somehow missing this and all the perfume and clothing change, I go for a naked shower. This is out of the realm of possibility because I refused to do so at any time. I felt too insecure at school and college to do such. I was the boy in the corner changing as fast as possible to avoid anyone seeing that space between underwear-less and wearing a fresh pair. I always felt I was too small.
But anyway, I’m in the girls’ shower when I hear a noise. Giggling, high-pitched gossip, it’s the girls. At this point shame and sheer panic ensue as I realise where I am. I’m soapy and naked and they’re approaching.
“Hello?” I hear. Obviously none of the nilüfer escort girls from the class went to shower, so this is an unknown entity washing themselves. Maybe an older girl who wanted to workout alone. But no, it’s
“a boy!”
A call from the one at the front, checking out the situation whilst the rest change and refresh after a sweaty class.
I never worked out the specifics of the next moments because my mind only ever was interested in the main points. The next moment is me, wet and naked, having my hands held behind my back as one of them plays show-and-tell with the other girls. Some are shy and quickly covering themselves up or turning away. Others, more confident, are completely naked and standing before me maybe holding onto shorts or underwear either sweaty and worn or fresh and new.
“You pervert!”
“I- I didn’t mean t-“
“Look at how small he is!”
“Are they all this tiny!?”
“My boyfriend isn’t! He says some cocks grow and some are already the right size!”
The right size? What size is t-
“Well why isn’t he growing then? Are you okay?”
“I just want to get dressed and-“
One of the more bratty ones now, “Oh you’ll be getting dressed alright. Where’s his clothes?”
Some searching and moving of bags.
“Here!”
I try to struggle to cover up with my hands but by now two of the girls are holding me tight.
“You want to be in the girls changing room so much hm?” Some plot is being whispered between a few of them.
“You can’t be in here unless your a girl, you know that right? Are you a girl?”
“I ju-“
“I mean, his bum is quite girly.” Says one behind me. “Maybe he is.”
“These shorts and this ugly football jersey aren’t for girls. Girls, do you think these are his?”
I watch as the most confident of them grabs my clothes and puts them in a bag. “They can’t be. These are boys’ clothes. Sarah, take these to the guys’ changing room. Maybe someone lost them.”
“But I-” I almost scream
“I think your clothes must be here somewhere new girl. Maybe we can find them.”
“What did you have on?” One of the naked girls is feigning concern and rummaging around for my apparent wardrobe. “I guess if we can’t find your lost clothes we can always donate some to you.”
Aaaaand there’s the growing. It gets noticed immediately by one of the less experienced girls who has been eyeing me without interruption. “Look! You see, she’s a boy after all!”
“Oh no!” Sarcastically “But his clothes are already with bursa sınırsız escort the guys. What a shame.”
I plead. “Please, all I want is-“
“Is to shower in our changing room and get caught. What’s the word, a ‘sissy’? That’s you, right?”
At this point everyone is dressed except me. Not for long however, because some resourceful girls have already completed their plan.
“He can put these on.” A pile of their worn clothes is dumped in front of me along with the ‘lost and found’ box.
“New girl, we have class in 5 minutes so you better choose something to-“
Out of a sheer need to get this ordeal over with I break free from the girls holding my wrists and pick up the first thing I can…
It’s a leotard. One of the gymnastic girls must have left it and it ended up as lost and found.
“Put it on.”
As quickly as I picked it up, I slide into it.
“Now these. Now!”
Someone’s thigh-highs. Obviously someone taller than I because they reach past the thighs and effectively reach my crotch. The strong elastic compresses my skin enough to push my ass up.
“I want an ass like that.” says one of the girls mockingly, but truthfully at the same time because I do in fact own a beautiful booty.
“I’m sure there are some shoes for you somewhere.”
Some converse are donated and the look is complete.
The leotard is white and so all is visible in terms of my ‘bulge’
In the fantasy they are all around me and adjusting my socks and the front of the leotard, typical humiliation scene. Flicking my clitty, slapping my bottom.
“Now, last thing…”
By this time as a daydreaming wreck I would have climaxed watching this movie in my mind
“Go and get your clothes from the boys’ room…”
Red, like a cherry, my face becomes.
“You’re going to go in there, and we all know they are showering and talking about football and us and they’re probably waiting for you. Sarah left them your clothes and they know they belong to you. Go and get them.”
I’m being pushed out of the room, my begging falling on deaf ears.
And then a vision of a door, the smell of deodorant and rule-breaking cigarettes emanating from underneath. I hear loud low voices. Swearing. A noise. The girls leaving for class, they blow kisses at me as they walk past. One of them tries to push me into the room but I stop myself from completely entering. I do however nudge the door and I hear one of the boys coming to check what’s happening and…
And then he’s there, wrapped in a towel before me, the door wide open. Eyes. All I see is eyes. Okay, it’s not *all* I see.
I see cock. Guys tend to be very free with nudity and the number of free young men is a lot.
“What the fuck!?” I hear from one of them.
Then the fantasy comes to a close so to speak…
…
Where was I? Ah yes, I have a shower to meet with…
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