TOO MUCH DRAMA! By THRONE (Patreon)

TOO MUCH DRAMA!

By THRONE

© 2019 QoS Comix All Rights Reserved

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TOO​ ​MUCH​ ​DRAMA​​ ​by​ ​Throne

Dylan​ ​didn't​ ​fit​ ​well​ ​into​ ​most​ ​groups​ ​of​ ​guys.​ ​​​Not​ ​only​ ​didn't​ ​he​ ​play​ ​sports, but​ ​he​ ​didn't​ ​follow​ ​or​ ​bet​ ​on​ ​them.​ ​​​He​ ​wasn't​ ​interested​ ​in​ ​cars.​ ​​​And though​ ​he​ ​had​ ​a​ ​longing​ ​for​ ​girls,​ ​his​ ​record​ ​with​ ​them​ ​was​ ​a​ ​string​ ​of failures.​ ​​​The​ ​last​ ​problem​ ​was​

​especially​ ​hurtful​ ​to​ ​him.​ ​​​He​ ​wanted​ ​to​ ​date someone​ ​and​ ​couldn't​ ​understand​ ​his​ ​inability​ ​to​ ​do​ ​it.​ ​​​He​ ​was​ ​short,​ ​but​ ​so were​ ​plenty​ ​of​ ​girls.​ ​​​And​ ​his​ ​slender​ ​build​ ​shouldn't​ ​be​ ​a​ ​deterrent.​ ​​​His modest​ ​frame​ ​made​ ​it​ ​easy​ ​for​ ​him​ ​to​ ​dress​ ​well,​ ​with​ ​nice​ ​designer​ ​shirts and​ ​straight​ ​legged​ ​jeans,​ ​plus​ ​a​ ​selection​ ​of​ ​crewneck​ ​sweaters​ ​and​ ​the like.​ ​​​He​ ​took​ ​care​ ​of​ ​his​ ​grooming,​ ​using​ ​gel​ ​on​ ​his​ ​full​ ​head​ ​of​ ​auburn​ ​hair, as​ ​well​ ​as​ ​emollients​ ​and​ ​exfoliating​ ​products​ ​on​ ​his​ ​skin.​ ​​​Still,​ ​something was​ ​lacking.

After​ ​he​ ​got​ ​into​ ​college​ ​he​ ​joined​ ​the​ ​drama​ ​club​ ​to​ ​try​ ​to​ ​build​ ​a​ ​social​ ​life. But​ ​as​ ​shy​ ​as​ ​he​ ​was,​ ​they​ ​usually​ ​relegated​ ​him​ ​to​ ​handling​ ​props​ ​and costumes.​ ​​​He​ ​preferred​ ​the​ ​latter,​ ​because​ ​carrying​ ​a​ ​dress​ ​was​ ​easier than​ ​assembling​ ​a​ ​set.​ ​​​Besides,​ ​Dylan​ ​had​ ​gotten​ ​the​ ​idea​ ​that​ ​bringing dresses​ ​to​ ​girls​ ​would​ ​be​ ​a​ ​good​ ​way​ ​to​ ​get​ ​to​ ​know​ ​them,​ ​and​ ​that​ ​might lead​ ​to​ ​more.​ ​​​Particularly​ ​with​ ​one​ ​girl​ ​--​ ​Julia.​ ​​​He​ ​was​ ​especially​ ​excited when​ ​the​ ​group​ ​decided​ ​to​ ​present​ ​a​ ​modernized​ ​version​ ​of​ ​Othello.​ ​​​The actors​ ​could​ ​improvise​ ​and​ ​rework​ ​their​ ​lines​ ​if​ ​they​ ​kept​ ​to​ ​the Shakespearean​ ​feel​ ​and​ ​the​ ​director​ ​approved.

Everything​ ​was​ ​progressing​ ​nicely​ ​when​ ​one​ ​of​ ​the​ ​cast​ ​members​ ​dropped out.​ ​​​He​ ​had​ ​been​ ​playing​ ​Clown​ ​and,​ ​for​ ​some​ ​reason,​ ​several​ ​others thought​ ​of​ ​Dylan​ ​as​ ​a​ ​replacement.​ ​​​When​ ​the​ ​young​ ​man​ ​objected​ ​that​ ​he hadn't​ ​acted​ ​on​ ​stage​ ​yet,​ ​they​ ​pointed​ ​out​ ​that​ ​the​ ​character​ ​only​ ​had fourteen​ ​lines​ ​in​ ​the​ ​original​ ​play.​ ​​​Dylan​ ​could​ ​certainly​ ​hold​ ​his​ ​own​ ​with such​ ​a​ ​small​ ​part,​ ​especially​ ​since​ ​he​ ​didn't​ ​have​ ​to​ ​remember​ ​the​ ​lines exactly,​ ​but​

​only​ ​their​ ​essence.​ ​​​He​ ​accepted​ ​it​ ​with​ ​a​ ​mix​ ​of​ ​unfamiliar pride​ ​and​ ​nervous​ ​trepidation.​ ​​​He​ ​was​ ​most​ ​motivated​ ​to​ ​make​ ​the​ ​effort, however,​ ​by​ ​the​ ​chance​ ​to​ ​see​ ​more​ ​of​ ​Julia.​ ​​​In​ ​his​ ​imagination​ ​she​ ​was his​ ​fair​ ​maiden,​ ​and​ ​he​ ​her​ ​noble​ ​gallant.​ ​​​​​She​ ​was​ ​the​ ​finest​ ​actress​ ​in​ ​the group.

Julia​ ​was​ ​a​ ​willowy​ ​blond,​ ​her​ ​flaxen​ ​hair​ ​falling​ ​to​ ​her​ ​milky​ ​shoulders.​ ​​​Her bust​ ​was​ ​rather​ ​full​ ​for​ ​the​ ​rest​ ​of​ ​her​ ​figure,​ ​and​ ​showed​ ​itself​ ​to​ ​good advantage​ ​in​ ​the​ ​Elizabethan​ ​dresses​ ​she​ ​wore​ ​when​ ​performing​ ​The​ ​Bard. Often​ ​she​ ​would​ ​play​ ​opposite​ ​Tyler,​ ​who​ ​was​ ​tall​ ​and​ ​handsome,​ ​his reddish-gold​ ​hair​ ​worn​ ​short​ ​and​ ​neat.​ ​​​He​ ​was​ ​also​ ​on​ ​the​ ​swimming​ ​team. For​ ​this​ ​play​ ​they​ ​had​ ​a​ ​recently​ ​transferred​ ​student​ ​joining​ ​them.​ ​​​That​ ​was Javon,​ ​who​ ​shared​ ​Tyler's​ ​superior​ ​height​ ​but​ ​not​ ​his​ ​Scandinavian complexion.​ ​​​The​ ​new​ ​student​ ​was​ ​Black​ ​and​ ​excelled​ ​at​ ​basketball.

So​ ​there​ ​Dylan​ ​was,​ ​still​ ​handling​ ​costumes,​ ​but​ ​now​ ​about​ ​to​ ​wear​ ​one himself.​ ​​​He​ ​liked​ ​to​ ​go​ ​to​ ​the​ ​wardrobe​ ​area​ ​when​ ​no​ ​one​ ​else​ ​was around,​ ​just​ ​to​ ​appreciate​ ​the​ ​workmanship​ ​and​ ​design​ ​of​ ​them. Sometimes​ ​he​ ​would​ ​hold​ ​a​ ​mutton-sleeved​ ​shirt​ ​or​ ​pair​ ​of​ ​breeches​ ​up​ ​in front​ ​of​ ​himself​ ​and​ ​admire​ ​the​ ​effect​ ​in​ ​one​ ​of​ ​the​ ​full​ ​length​ ​mirrors backstage.​ ​​​He​ ​would​ ​perch​ ​a​ ​jaunty​ ​cap,​ ​perhaps​ ​with​ ​a​ ​long​ ​feather projecting​ ​from​ ​it,​ ​atop​ ​his​ ​head​ ​and​ ​strike​ ​extravagantly​ ​theatrical​ ​poses. Once​ ​or​ ​twice,​ ​thinking​ ​of​ ​how​ ​young​ ​men​ ​had​ ​portrayed​ ​women​ ​before females​ ​were​ ​permitted​ ​to​ ​perform​ ​on​ ​stage,​ ​he​ ​would​ ​even​ ​pose​ ​with​ ​a dress​ ​in​

​front​ ​of​ ​him,​ ​marveling​ ​at​ ​the​ ​intricate​ ​brocade​ ​work​ ​and​ ​flowing skirts.

Once,​ ​he​ ​took​ ​a​ ​dress​ ​that​ ​Julia​ ​had​ ​recently​ ​worn​ ​and​ ​hugged​ ​it​ ​against his​ ​narrow​ ​chest,​ ​inhaling​ ​the​ ​lingering​ ​traces​ ​of​ ​her​ ​perfume.​ ​​​That​ ​made his​ ​heart​ ​beat​ ​faster​ ​and,​ ​even​ ​though​ ​it​ ​was​ ​embarrassing​ ​to​ ​admit​ ​it,​ ​even to​ ​himself,​ ​his​ ​penis​ ​throb.​ ​​​​​He'd​ ​had​ ​some​ ​problems​ ​in​ ​that​ ​latter​ ​area back​ ​in​ ​high​ ​school.​ ​​​In​ ​the​ ​locker​ ​room​ ​some​ ​of​ ​the​ ​bigger​ ​guys,​ ​and​ ​most of​ ​the​ ​guys​ ​were​ ​bigger,​ ​had​ ​taunted​ ​him​ ​about​ ​having​ ​a​ ​small​ ​dick.​ ​​​He tried​ ​to​ ​take​ ​it​ ​good​ ​naturedly,​ ​telling​ ​himself​ ​that​ ​it​ ​was​ ​simply​ ​how​ ​guys behaved​ ​in​ ​that​ ​environment.​ ​​​He​ ​also​ ​told​ ​himself​ ​that​ ​he​ ​was​ ​of​ ​average size​ ​down​ ​there,​ ​and​ ​that​ ​the​ ​impression​ ​of​ ​him​ ​being​ ​small​ ​was​ ​because they​ ​weren't​ ​allowing​ ​for​ ​his​ ​lesser​ ​stature,​ ​and​ ​the​ ​fact​ ​that​ ​his​ ​body​ ​parts were​ ​in​ ​proportion​ ​with​ ​that.

One​ ​afternoon,​ ​at​ ​a​ ​rehearsal,​ ​he​ ​determined​ ​to​ ​listen​ ​more​ ​closely​ ​to​ ​the leads​ ​as​ ​they​ ​spoke​ ​their​ ​rewritten​ ​dialogue,​ ​in​ ​the​ ​hope​ ​that​ ​it​ ​would​ ​help him​ ​to​ ​do​ ​better​ ​with​ ​his​ ​own.​ ​​​Julia,​ ​as​ ​Desdemona,​ ​swept​ ​out​ ​from​ ​behind one​ ​of​ ​the​ ​flats.​ ​​​Tyler,​ ​in​ ​the​ ​title​ ​role,​ ​entered​ ​from​ ​the​ ​opposite​ ​side. Javon,​ ​who​ ​of​ ​course​ ​portrayed​ ​the​ ​Moor,​ ​waited​ ​patiently​ ​in​ ​the​ ​wings. Their​ ​director,​ ​the​ ​gay​ ​but​ ​not​ ​effeminate​ ​Professor​ ​Smyth,​ ​suggested​ ​that they​ ​simply​ ​improvise​ ​a​ ​scene​ ​to​ ​warm​ ​up.

Tyler​ ​went​ ​to​ ​Julia​ ​and​ ​proclaimed,​ ​"Verily,​ ​charmer​ ​of​ ​my​ ​heart,​ ​the blossoms​ ​of​ ​the​ ​fields​ ​would​ ​lower​ ​their​ ​heads​ ​in​ ​modest​ ​surrender​ ​to​ ​your beauty."

She​ ​looked​ ​directly​ ​into​ ​his​ ​eyes​ ​and​ ​responded,​ ​"And​ ​the​ ​stags​ ​of​ ​the forest​ ​declare​ ​themselves​ ​less​ ​than​ ​thou​ ​in​ ​poise​ ​and​ ​courage."

Javon​ ​swept​ ​in​ ​and​ ​declaimed,​ ​"But​ ​hark,​ ​what​ ​darkness​ ​from​ ​offstage struts?"

Everyone​ ​laughed​ ​at​ ​his​ ​intentionally​ ​humorous​ ​line.​ ​​​He​ ​bowed​ ​to​ ​his fellow​ ​players.

Tyler​ ​asked,​ ​"Good​ ​friend,​ ​brother​ ​of​ ​my​ ​trust,​ ​why​ ​is​ ​your​ ​countenance clouded?"

Now​ ​serious,​ ​Javon​ ​said,​ ​"There​ ​is​ ​a​ ​storm​ ​aborning​ ​and​ ​it​ ​casts​ ​its shadow​ ​far.​ ​​​Fair​ ​weather​ ​is​ ​foul​ ​and​ ​foul​ ​fair​ ​when​ ​men​ ​do​ ​not​ ​speak​ ​their minds​ ​truly.​ ​​​Even​ ​the​ ​devil​ ​may​ ​quote​ ​scripture​ ​to​ ​his​ ​purpose.​ ​​​And brothers​ ​we​ ​may​ ​be,​ ​good​ ​Othello,​ ​but​ ​are​ ​we​ ​bonded​ ​by​ ​barefaced​ ​trust​ ​or that​ ​which​ ​but​ ​wears​ ​the​ ​mask​ ​of​ ​trust,​ ​and​ ​thus​ ​leads​ ​us​ ​to​ ​false fellowship?"

Barely​ ​missing​ ​a​ ​beat,​ ​Tyler​ ​told​ ​him,​ ​"What​ ​have​ ​such​ ​as​ ​we​ ​to​ ​fear​ ​of truth​ ​made​ ​its​ ​opposite?​ ​​​What​ ​silver​ ​tongued​ ​imp​ ​would​ ​speak​ ​midnight words​ ​to​ ​us​ ​on​ ​such​ ​a​ ​noon-bright​ ​day?"

The​ ​Black​ ​actor​ ​spoke​ ​with​ ​sly​ ​persuasiveness​ ​when​ ​he​ ​said,​ ​"Who​ ​indeed, when​ ​friend​ ​is​ ​foe​ ​and​ ​foe​ ​friend?"

Julia​ ​put​ ​herself​ ​between​ ​them,​ ​as​ ​if​ ​it​ ​discourage​ ​an​ ​impending​ ​conflict. "Pray,​ ​list​ ​to​ ​me,​ ​good​ ​men.​ ​​​For​ ​good​ ​you​ ​both​ ​are,​ ​though​ ​perturbing riddles​ ​might​ ​your​ ​minds​ ​confuse​ ​and​ ​sway."

The​ ​three​ ​of​ ​them​ ​stood​ ​there,​ ​with​ ​no​ ​one​ ​sure​ ​who​ ​should​ ​provide​ ​the next​ ​line.​ ​​​As​ ​one​ ​they​ ​broke​ ​up​ ​laughing.​ ​​​The​ ​director​ ​joined​ ​them, clapping​ ​without​ ​moving​ ​his​ ​hands​ ​very​ ​far​ ​apart.

"Bravo,"​ ​he​ ​congratulated.​ ​​​"That's​ ​the​ ​sort​ ​of​ ​thing​ ​I​ ​want​ ​to​ ​hear.​ ​​​You have​ ​the​ ​rhythm​ ​and​ ​intonations​ ​I'm​ ​listening​ ​for.​ ​​​And​ ​I​ ​like​ ​what​ ​I've​ ​heard the​ ​last​ ​week​ ​or​ ​so,​ ​with​ ​a​ ​soupcon​ ​of​ ​contemporary​ ​English.​ ​​​​​I​ ​hope you've​ ​been​ ​working​ ​together​ ​and​ ​writing​ ​down​ ​the​ ​lines​ ​you​ ​come​ ​up with."

They​ ​all​ ​agreed​ ​that​ ​they'd​ ​been​ ​doing​ ​just​ ​that.​ ​​​Professor​ ​Smyth suggested​ ​that​ ​just​ ​Julia​ ​and​ ​Javon​ ​work​ ​on​ ​one​ ​particular​ ​scene​ ​together. Tyler​ ​said​ ​that​ ​if​ ​they​ ​wanted​ ​to​ ​talk​ ​with​ ​him​ ​later,​ ​they​

​could​ ​just​ ​call.​ ​​​He left​ ​with​ ​the​ ​professor,​ ​but​ ​Dylan​ ​remained,​ ​unseen,​ ​lurking​ ​in​ ​the​ ​shadows offstage.​ ​​​The​ ​two​ ​actors​ ​ran​ ​some​ ​lines,​ ​exchanging​ ​them​ ​impressively. Javon​ ​offered​ ​a​ ​different​ ​way​ ​for​ ​them​ ​to​ ​stand​ ​in​ ​relationship​ ​to​ ​each other.

Julia​ ​told​ ​him,​ ​"You​ ​have​ ​a​ ​terrific​ ​sense​ ​of​ ​stagecraft.​ ​​​I​ ​can​ ​picture​ ​you directing."

He​ ​said​ ​confidently,​ ​"I​ ​know​ ​someone​ ​I'd​ ​like​ ​to​ ​direct." "Who,"​ ​she​ ​asked​ ​coyly.​ ​​​"Me?"

"That's​ ​right.​ ​​​In​ ​a​ ​love​ ​scene."

She​ ​extended​ ​her​ ​hand​ ​and​ ​he​ ​took​ ​it,​ ​bringing​ ​it​ ​to​ ​his​ ​lips​ ​so​ ​he​ ​could place​ ​a​ ​kiss​ ​on​ ​it.​ ​​​Then​ ​he​ ​gently​ ​pulled​ ​her​ ​toward​ ​him.​ ​​​She​ ​allowed​ ​it willingly​ ​and​ ​they​ ​embraced.​ ​​​Julia​ ​turned​ ​up​ ​her​ ​face​ ​and​ ​he​ ​lowered​ ​his, both​ ​meeting​ ​in​ ​a​ ​tender​ ​kiss.​ ​​​His​ ​large​ ​hands​ ​ran​ ​down​ ​her​ ​back​ ​and settled​ ​on​ ​the​ ​top​ ​of​ ​the​ ​rise​ ​of​ ​her​ ​bottom.​ ​​​From​ ​his​ ​hiding​ ​place,​ ​Dylan froze​ ​up​ ​inside.​ ​​​He​ ​watched​ ​as​ ​the​ ​recipient​ ​of​ ​his passionate-but-unvoiced​ ​love​ ​kissed​ ​Javon​ ​again,​ ​with​ ​growing​ ​fervor. Dylan​ ​backed​ ​into​ ​the​ ​dressing​ ​closet​ ​where​ ​he​ ​would​ ​be​ ​invisible.​ ​​​He​ ​was squeezed​ ​between​ ​two​ ​female​ ​costumes​ ​hanging​ ​from​ ​the​ ​crowded overhead​ ​bar.​ ​​​Instead​ ​of​ ​being​ ​discouraged​ ​by​ ​what​ ​he​ ​was​ ​witnessing,​ ​he felt​ ​himself​ ​become​ ​more​ ​emotionally​ ​involved​ ​with​ ​Julia.​ ​​​Seeing​ ​her​ ​taken by​

​someone​ ​else​ ​made​ ​her​ ​even​ ​more​ ​desirable.​ ​​​His​ ​already​ ​deep​ ​crush swelled​ ​into​ ​obsession.

Dylan​ ​watched​ ​intently​ ​as​ ​they​ ​alternately​ ​kissed​ ​and​ ​talked.​ ​​​Javon​ ​was​ ​so confident​ ​and​ ​relaxed.​ ​​​She​ ​was​ ​obviously​ ​smitten​ ​with​ ​him.​ ​​​But​ ​she​ ​was still​ ​somewhat​ ​shy​ ​around​ ​his​ ​overwhelming​ ​masculinity.​ ​​​Dylan​ ​could​ ​see the​ ​conflict​ ​in​ ​her​ ​body​ ​language.​ ​​​It​ ​was​ ​like​ ​something​ ​you​ ​might​ ​learn​ ​in an​ ​acting​ ​class.​ ​​​Except​ ​that​ ​this​ ​was​ ​real.​ ​​​She​ ​finally​ ​stepped​ ​away​ ​from Javon​ ​and​ ​held​ ​up​ ​her​ ​hands.

"Really,"​ ​she​ ​said​ ​breathily.​ ​​​"We've​ ​got​ ​to​ ​slow​ ​down.​ ​​​I​ ​mean,​ ​I​ ​don't​ ​want this​ ​to​ ​stop​ ​but..."

When​ ​she​ ​couldn't​ ​finish​ ​her​ ​sentence,​ ​the​ ​Black​ ​student​ ​offered,​ ​"But​ ​it's all​ ​happening​ ​too​ ​fast.​ ​​​Right?​ ​​​No​ ​problem,​ ​angel.​ ​​​Slow​ ​and​ ​steady.​ ​​​How about​ ​if​ ​we​ ​get​ ​together​ ​after​ ​tomorrow's​ ​rehearsal?​ ​​​Go​ ​out​ ​for​ ​coffee.​ ​​​Or a​ ​drink,​ ​if​ ​you'd​ ​like."​ ​​​He​ ​took​ ​her​ ​hand​ ​in​ ​both​ ​his.​ ​​​"It's​ ​what​ ​we​ ​both want."

She​ ​brought​ ​her​ ​hand​ ​up​ ​to​ ​her​ ​chest,​ ​so​ ​that​ ​his​ ​hands​ ​were​ ​between​ ​her breasts.​ ​​​"Thank​ ​you,​ ​Javon.​ ​​​It's​ ​like​ ​you​ ​can​ ​read​ ​my​ ​mind.​ ​​​Tomorrow would​ ​be​ ​fine."​ ​​​She​ ​smiled​ ​impishly.​ ​​​"Give​ ​me​ ​a​ ​chance​ ​to​ ​catch​ ​my breath."

"And​ ​give​ ​me​ ​time​ ​to​ ​think​ ​about​ ​you​ ​and​ ​how​ ​sweet​ ​you​ ​are."

They​ ​kissed​ ​once​ ​more.​ ​​​Javon​ ​looked​ ​directly​ ​toward​ ​where​ ​Dylan​ ​was cowering.​ ​​​Then​ ​the​ ​Black​ ​stud​ ​walked​ ​Julia​ ​out​ ​with​ ​his​ ​arm​ ​around​ ​her shoulders,​ ​her​ ​head​ ​leaning​ ​against​ ​him.​ ​​​Dylan​ ​was​ ​trembling​ ​from unfamiliar​ ​feelings.​ ​​​It​ ​was​ ​somehow​ ​exciting​ ​to​ ​see​ ​her​ ​with​ ​that​ ​superior male.​ ​​​And​ ​to​ ​witness​ ​how​ ​she​ ​melted​ ​under​ ​his​ ​subtle​ ​approach.​ ​​​Still between​ ​those​ ​two​ ​dresses,​ ​he​ ​held​ ​the​ ​sleeve​ ​of​ ​one​ ​against​ ​his​ ​cheek​ ​as his​ ​other​ ​hand​ ​drifted​ ​downward.​ ​​​Almost​ ​without​ ​knowing​ ​he​ ​was​ ​doing​ ​it, he​ ​put​ ​his​ ​fingers​ ​against​ ​his​ ​crotch​ ​and​ ​moved​ ​them​ ​up​ ​and​ ​down,​ ​ever​ ​so slowly.​ ​​​The​ ​paired​ ​sensations​ ​of​ ​that​ ​sleeve​ ​and​ ​his​ ​self-stimulation worked​ ​so​ ​well​ ​together.

His​ ​thoughts​ ​went​ ​back​ ​to​ ​how​ ​young​ ​guys​ ​had​ ​historically​ ​played​ ​female parts.​ ​​​It​ ​was​ ​a​ ​perfectly​ ​normal​ ​occurrence.​ ​​​And​ ​it​ ​would​ ​be​ ​a​ ​good​ ​acting exercise​ ​for​ ​him​ ​to​ ​try​ ​it.​ ​​​He​ ​stepped​ ​out​ ​of​ ​that​ ​confined​ ​space,​ ​reached back,​ ​and​ ​took​ ​the​ ​dress​ ​he​ ​had​ ​been​ ​fondling.​ ​​​It​ ​was​ ​gorgeous,​ ​with​ ​short ruffles​ ​at​ ​the​ ​cuffs,​ ​a​ ​high​ ​neck,​ ​buttons​ ​down​ ​the​ ​front,​ ​a​ ​corset​ ​waist,​ ​and billowing,​ ​ankle-length​ ​skirts.​ ​​​There​ ​were​ ​even​ ​breast​ ​forms​ ​sewn​ ​into​ ​it. Maybe​ ​it​ ​actually​ ​had​ ​been​ ​worn​ ​by​ ​a​ ​guy​ ​before.

In​ ​a​ ​trance,​ ​images​ ​of​ ​Julia​ ​and​ ​Javon​ ​still​ ​dominating​ ​his​ ​mind,​ ​he unzipped​ ​the​ ​back​ ​and​ ​set​ ​it​ ​aside.​ ​​​It​ ​would​ ​be​ ​awkward​ ​and uncomfortable​ ​to​ ​still​ ​have​ ​his​ ​own​ ​clothes​ ​on​ ​under​ ​it.​ ​​​Dylan​ ​began unbuttoning​ ​his​ ​shirt.​ ​​​He​ ​was​ ​impressed​ ​that​ ​his​ ​erection​ ​was​ ​still​ ​100%.

His​ ​fingers​ ​massaged​ ​it​ ​lightly​ ​for​ ​a​ ​minute.​ ​​​He​ ​reached​ ​into​ ​his​ ​half opened​ ​shirt​ ​and​ ​felt​ ​his​ ​nipples,​ ​which​ ​added​ ​to​ ​his​ ​arousal​ ​and mesmerized​ ​state.​ ​​​Soon​ ​he​ ​was​ ​naked,​ ​taking​ ​deep​ ​but​ ​calm​ ​breaths​ ​as he​ ​stepped​ ​into​ ​the​ ​dress,​ ​got​ ​his​ ​arms​ ​into​ ​the​ ​sleeves,​ ​and​ ​reached around​ ​to​ ​zip​ ​himself​ ​into​ ​it.​ ​​​The​ ​raised​ ​neck​ ​fit​ ​close​ ​against​ ​his​ ​throat​ ​and the​ ​insides​ ​of​ ​those​ ​breast​ ​pads​ ​rubbed​ ​against​ ​his​ ​chest​ ​intimately.

A​ ​new​ ​thought​ ​flashed​ ​into​ ​his​ ​consciousness.​ ​​​What​ ​if​ ​Julia​ ​had​ ​worn​ ​this very​ ​dress?​ ​​​Did​ ​he​ ​dare​ ​to​ ​believe​ ​that?​ ​​​Dylan​ ​wanted​ ​to​ ​pay​ ​tribute​ ​to her,​ ​to​ ​express​ ​his​ ​affection,​ ​even​ ​though​ ​she​ ​wasn't​ ​there.​ ​​​He​ ​could​ ​be Julia,​ ​if​ ​only​ ​for​ ​a​ ​short​ ​time.​ ​​​He​ ​could​ ​aspire​ ​to​ ​that​ ​ideal,​ ​though​ ​it​ ​was plainly​ ​unobtainable.​ ​​​Dylan​ ​took​ ​a​ ​step,​ ​and​ ​then​ ​another.​ ​​​He​ ​raised​ ​one arm​ ​and​ ​made​ ​a​ ​broad​ ​gesture​ ​that​ ​could​ ​be​ ​seen​ ​from​ ​the​ ​back​ ​rows.​ ​​​His steps​ ​were​ ​small​ ​and​ ​feminine.​ ​​​A​ ​wiggle​ ​became​ ​apparent​ ​in​ ​his​ ​walk.​ ​​​He tilted​ ​up​ ​his​ ​small​ ​chin​ ​and​ ​licked​ ​his​ ​lips.​ ​​​He​ ​was​ ​dedicating​ ​his mini-performance​ ​to​ ​the​ ​girl​ ​with​ ​who​ ​he​ ​was​ ​so​ ​taken.

Dylan​ ​sashayed​ ​back​ ​to​ ​the​ ​wardrobe​ ​and​ ​picked​ ​a​ ​small​ ​round​ ​hat.​ ​​​It​ ​had fake​ ​gemstones​ ​set​ ​around​ ​its​ ​sides​ ​and​ ​a​ ​short​ ​veil​ ​in​

​front.​ ​​​He​ ​smoothed the​ ​netting​ ​over​ ​his​ ​upper​ ​face​ ​and​ ​puckered​ ​up​ ​his​ ​lips​ ​to​ ​make​ ​them​ ​more girlish.​ ​​​When​ ​he​ ​got​ ​in​ ​front​ ​of​ ​one​ ​of​ ​the​ ​dressing​ ​mirrors​ ​he​ ​was​ ​stunned by​ ​the​ ​effect.​ ​​​Though​ ​he​ ​had​ ​never​ ​worn​ ​anything​ ​feminine​ ​like​ ​this​ ​before, it​ ​seemed​ ​very​ ​familiar​ ​and,​ ​more​ ​importantly,​ ​right.​ ​​​At​ ​the​ ​same​ ​time, another​ ​part​ ​of​ ​his​ ​brain​ ​was​ ​telling​ ​him​ ​that​ ​it​ ​was​ ​wrong​ ​and​ ​shameful. Yet​ ​how​ ​could​ ​anything​ ​that​ ​felt​ ​so​ ​good​ ​be​ ​bad?​ ​​​He​ ​decided​ ​to​ ​get​ ​back into​ ​his​ ​street​ ​clothes​ ​and​ ​give​ ​himself​ ​time​ ​to​ ​sort​ ​everything​ ​out.

When​ ​he​ ​was​ ​naked​ ​again,​ ​he​ ​couldn't​ ​resist​ ​embracing​ ​the​ ​dress,​ ​as​ ​if​ ​it was​ ​a​ ​fusion​ ​of​ ​the​ ​girl​ ​he​ ​longed​ ​for​ ​and​ ​his​ ​own​ ​idealized​ ​version​ ​of himself​ ​as​ ​her.​ ​​​It​ ​was​ ​all​ ​so​ ​confusing.​ ​​​Holding​ ​the​ ​dress​ ​against​ ​him,​ ​he dared​ ​to​ ​grip​ ​his​ ​small​ ​erection​ ​through​ ​the​ ​layers​ ​of​ ​material​ ​and​ ​stroke​ ​it until​ ​he​ ​moaned.​ ​​​No,​ ​he​ ​had​ ​to​ ​stop.​ ​​​Was​ ​he​ ​gay​ ​or​ ​something,​ ​reacting this​ ​way​ ​to​ ​crossdressing​ ​himself?​ ​​​And​ ​what​ ​about​ ​being​ ​turned​ ​on​ ​by peeping​ ​at​ ​Julia​ ​and​ ​Javon's​ ​physical​ ​contact?​ ​​​Why​ ​had​ ​that​ ​been​ ​so stimulating​ ​and​ ​unforgettable?​ ​​​Yes,​ ​he​ ​definitely​ ​had​ ​to​ ​get​ ​away​ ​from here​ ​and​ ​restore​ ​a​ ​sense​ ​of​ ​normalcy.​ ​​​After​ ​all,​ ​he​ ​always​ ​had​ ​the​ ​option to​ ​return​ ​and​ ​try​ ​dressing​ ​up​ ​again.​ ​​​Just​ ​to​ ​see​ ​how​ ​it​ ​effected​ ​him.​ ​​​He assured​ ​himself​ ​that​ ​he​ ​could​ ​stop​ ​anytime​ ​he​ ​pleased.

The​ ​next​ ​day​ ​after​ ​classes​ ​there​ ​was​ ​one​ ​more​ ​work​ ​session​ ​on​ ​the​ ​play. Another​ ​play​ ​was​ ​going​ ​to​ ​precede​ ​theirs.​ ​​​The​ ​sets​ ​for​ ​that​ ​one​ ​had​ ​been finished​ ​during​ ​the​ ​afternoon.​ ​​​There​ ​was​ ​a​ ​modern​ ​looking​ ​bedroom interior,​ ​and​ ​a​ ​bed​ ​in​ ​the​ ​middle​ ​of​ ​the​ ​floor.​

​​​Dylan​ ​again​ ​watched​ ​from​ ​the sidelines.​ ​​​He​ ​then​ ​got​ ​to​ ​run​ ​his​ ​lines,​ ​which​ ​he​ ​was​ ​having​ ​trouble​ ​with even​ ​though​ ​there​ ​were​ ​so​ ​few​ ​of​ ​them.​ ​​​His​ ​part​ ​involved​ ​confronting​ ​a musician​ ​who​ ​was​ ​playing​ ​too​ ​loudly​ ​and​ ​annoying​ ​the​ ​master​ ​of​ ​Dylan's character.​ ​​​The​ ​other​ ​actor​ ​had​ ​been​ ​toying​ ​with​ ​the​ ​lines​ ​and​ ​called​ ​Dylan, as​ ​the​ ​servant​ ​Clown,​ ​onto​ ​the​ ​stage.​ ​​​The​ ​guy,​ ​portly​ ​and​ ​swaggering, took​ ​his​ ​place.​ ​​​Dylan​ ​uneasily​ ​put​ ​himself​ ​in​ ​front​ ​of​ ​him.

The​ ​guy​ ​said,​ ​"Just​ ​follow​ ​my​ ​lead."​ ​​​He​ ​took​ ​a​ ​moment​ ​to​ ​fuss​ ​with​ ​the collar​ ​of​ ​his​ ​shirt,​ ​as​ ​if​ ​he​ ​was​ ​in​ ​costume​ ​and​ ​was​ ​using​ ​some​ ​acting technique.​ ​​​Suddenly​ ​he​ ​looked​ ​Dylan​ ​in​ ​the​ ​eye​ ​and​ ​said,​ ​"What,​ ​good​ ​sir? Why​ ​do​ ​you​ ​interrupt​ ​our​ ​music?"

"It's..."​ ​​​Dylan​ ​was​ ​aware​ ​of​ ​the​ ​three​ ​principals​ ​watching​ ​him,​ ​especially Julia.​ ​​​"It​ ​is​ ​too​ ​much...​ ​or​ ​too​ ​loud,​ ​for​ ​my​ ​Master."

"Do​ ​you​ ​not​ ​appreciate​ ​it​ ​yourself?​ ​​​Are​ ​you​ ​a​ ​music​ ​maker?" "I...​ ​I​ ​am​ ​not?"

"And​ ​yet,​ ​but​ ​a​ ​moment​ ​ago,​ ​I​ ​clearly​ ​heard​ ​you​ ​sound​ ​an​ ​unfragrant​ ​note. What​ ​inspired​ ​such​ ​an​ ​effort?"

"I...​ ​played​ ​no​ ​music...​ ​Sir."

"You​ ​played​ ​an​ ​air​ ​that​ ​an​ ​ass​ ​might​ ​play​ ​after​ ​it​ ​eats​ ​too​ ​many​ ​apples. The​ ​ass​ ​plays​ ​his​ ​special​ ​instrument,​ ​whereby​ ​hangs​ ​a​ ​tale."

"I...​ ​played​ ​that​ ​pleasant​ ​note...​ ​because​ ​it​ ​was​ ​in​ ​my​ ​heart,"​ ​he​ ​improvised, trying​ ​to​ ​keep​ ​up.

"It​ ​would​ ​seem​ ​sure,​ ​minstrel​ ​of​ ​repasts​ ​past,​ ​that​ ​it​ ​issued​ ​from​ ​a​ ​lower region."

That​ ​line​ ​was​ ​met​ ​with​ ​laughter​ ​and​ ​spontaneous​ ​applause.​ ​​​Dylan​ ​was​ ​lost and​ ​clueless.​ ​​​Javon​ ​came​ ​out​ ​and​ ​clapped​ ​him​ ​hard​ ​on​ ​the​ ​back.​ ​​​Julia wagged​ ​her​ ​finger​ ​teasingly​ ​at​ ​the​ ​uncomprehending​ ​performer.​ ​​​Tyler​ ​went and​ ​congratulated​ ​the​ ​student​ ​playing​ ​a​ ​musician.​ ​​​Professor​ ​Smyth​ ​said they​ ​would​ ​keep​ ​the​ ​lines​ ​in,​ ​and​ ​that​ ​he​ ​thought​ ​Dylan​ ​was​ ​very convincing​ ​as​ ​a​ ​fool.​ ​​​The​ ​next​ ​hour​ ​went​ ​well​ ​and​ ​then​ ​everyone​ ​was ready​ ​to​ ​leave.

Julia​ ​and​ ​Javon​ ​were​ ​making​ ​plenty​ ​of​ ​eye​ ​contact​ ​with​ ​each​ ​other.​ ​​​Dylan faded​ ​into​ ​the​ ​background,​ ​hoping​ ​for​ ​a​ ​replay​ ​of​

​their​ ​previous​ ​behavior. He​ ​was​ ​denied​ ​that,​ ​however,​ ​as​ ​they​ ​limited​ ​themselves​ ​to​ ​a​ ​few​ ​chaste kisses.​ ​​​But​ ​there​ ​was​ ​a​ ​change​ ​as​ ​Julia​ ​pressed​ ​her​ ​pelvis​ ​against​ ​Javon's and​ ​held​ ​it​ ​there,​ ​her​ ​generous​ ​bust​ ​partly​ ​flattened​ ​as​ ​she​ ​hugged​ ​him tightly.​ ​​​When​ ​she​ ​stepped​ ​away​ ​there​ ​was​ ​an​ ​unmistakable​ ​bulge​ ​between his​ ​legs​ ​and​ ​running​ ​partway​ ​down​ ​one​ ​thigh.​ ​​​It​ ​was​ ​huge.​ ​​​Dylan​ ​couldn't keep​ ​from​ ​comparing​ ​himself​ ​to​ ​what​ ​he​ ​was​ ​seeing.​ ​​​It​ ​contradicted​ ​the smaller​ ​student's​ ​belief​ ​that​ ​his​ ​own​ ​penis​ ​was​ ​average​ ​size.​ ​​​But​ ​then​ ​he told​ ​himself​ ​that​ ​he​ ​was​ ​still​ ​of​ ​normal​ ​dimensions,​ ​and​ ​the​ ​Black​ ​guy​ ​was well​ ​above​ ​the​ ​middle​ ​range.

Julia​ ​reached​ ​out​ ​hesitantly​ ​and​ ​ran​ ​her​ ​fingertips​ ​along​ ​that​ ​impressive length.​ ​​​She​ ​pressed​ ​her​ ​body​ ​against​ ​his​ ​again,​ ​this​ ​time​ ​moving​ ​her​ ​hips as​ ​she​ ​did​ ​so.​ ​​​Her​ ​eyes​ ​strayed​ ​to​ ​the​ ​bed​ ​in​ ​the​ ​corner​ ​of​ ​the​ ​stage.​ ​​​She licked​ ​her​ ​lips​ ​nervously.​ ​​​But​ ​then​ ​Javon​ ​moved​ ​back​ ​and​ ​the​ ​moment passed.

He​ ​told​ ​her,​ ​"I​ ​know​ ​someplace​ ​more​ ​comfortable​ ​and​ ​private.​ ​​​If​ ​you​ ​don't mind​ ​a​ ​short​ ​wait."

She​ ​said​ ​breathily,​ ​"All​ ​right,​ ​Javon.​ ​​​It's​ ​just​ ​that​ ​I've​ ​never​ ​been​ ​around someone​ ​quite​ ​like​ ​you."

"Yeah,"​ ​he​ ​told​ ​her​ ​without​ ​modesty.​ ​​​"I​ ​get​ ​it.​ ​​​And​ ​you'll​ ​get​ ​it​ ​later,​ ​girl. Right​ ​now​ ​let's​ ​take​ ​a​ ​drive​ ​and​ ​talk,​ ​let​ ​you​ ​make​ ​sure​ ​you're​ ​thinking clear."

Was​ ​he​ ​being​ ​a​ ​gentleman?​ ​​​Dylan​ ​wondered.​ ​​​Or​ ​just​ ​enjoying​ ​how obviously​ ​eager​ ​she​ ​was?​ ​​​Either​ ​way,​ ​they​ ​left​ ​together,​ ​Julia​ ​with​ ​both hands​ ​on​ ​his​ ​upper​ ​arm,​ ​feeling​ ​his​ ​muscular​ ​bicep.​ ​​​Dylan​ ​had​ ​to​ ​sit​ ​down after​ ​they​ ​were​ ​gone.​ ​​​He​ ​felt​ ​as​ ​out​ ​of​ ​breath​ ​as​ ​she​ ​had​ ​been.​ ​​​It​ ​was​ ​like he​ ​had​ ​an​ ​emotional​ ​link​ ​to​ ​Julia.​ ​​​When​ ​he​ ​reached​ ​behind​ ​him,​ ​his​ ​hand brushed​ ​the​ ​hem​ ​of​ ​one​ ​of​ ​the​ ​dresses​ ​hanging​ ​there.​ ​​​He​ ​caressed​ ​it softly,​ ​pulled​ ​it​ ​forward,​ ​and​ ​kissed​ ​it​ ​tenderly.​ ​​​He​ ​pictured​ ​beautiful​ ​Julia wearing​ ​it​ ​as​ ​he​ ​did​ ​that.​ ​​​​​Like​ ​after​ ​the​ ​last​ ​rehearsal,​ ​Dylan's​ ​pecker​ ​got stiff.​ ​​​There​ ​was​ ​no​ ​pause​ ​for​ ​rationalizing​ ​this​ ​time​ ​as​ ​he​ ​rapidly​ ​stripped and​ ​got​ ​into​ ​the​ ​dress.​ ​​​Dylan​ ​did​ ​a​ ​reprise​ ​of​ ​his​ ​pantomime,​ ​mincing around,​ ​adding​ ​some​ ​more​ ​arm​ ​movements,​ ​and​ ​posing​ ​in​ ​front​ ​of​ ​the mirror.

Then​ ​came​ ​a​ ​moment​ ​of​ ​decision.​ ​​​He​ ​wanted​ ​to​ ​touch​ ​himself​ ​as​ ​he​ ​had done​ ​the​ ​other​ ​time,​ ​but​ ​he​ ​also​ ​wanted​ ​to​ ​go​ ​further.​ ​​​To​ ​go​ ​all​ ​the​ ​way,​ ​if that​ ​term​ ​could​ ​be​ ​applied​ ​to​ ​a​ ​lovelorn​ ​young​ ​man​ ​with​ ​only​ ​his​ ​hand​ ​to comfort​ ​him.​ ​​​He​ ​turned​ ​away​ ​from​ ​his​ ​reflection,​ ​hoisted​ ​up​ ​the​ ​heavy skirts​ ​of​ ​the​ ​dress,​ ​and​ ​got​ ​a​ ​grip​ ​on​ ​his​ ​dick.​ ​​​It​ ​was​ ​electrifying.​ ​​​He​ ​began to​ ​stroke​ ​himself,​ ​at​ ​first​ ​rapidly,​ ​but​ ​then​ ​at​ ​a​ ​more​ ​measured​ ​tempo,​ ​not wanting​ ​to​ ​rush​ ​through​ ​to​ ​the​ ​end.​ ​​​He​ ​kept​ ​it​ ​up​ ​for​ ​several​ ​minutes before​ ​daring​ ​to​ ​slowly​ ​turn​ ​back​ ​and​ ​face​ ​his​ ​image​ ​in​ ​the​ ​glass.​ ​​​It​ ​was​

​so strange​ ​to​ ​see​ ​himself​ ​covered​ ​up​ ​in​ ​that​ ​lovely​ ​dress​ ​from​ ​neck​ ​to​ ​where he​ ​was​ ​holding​ ​it​ ​up.​ ​​​Dylan's​ ​face,​ ​so​ ​smooth​ ​and​ ​with​ ​such​ ​fine​ ​features, didn't​ ​announce​ ​his​ ​maleness.​ ​​​He​ ​saw​ ​how​ ​androgynous​ ​he​ ​could​ ​appear, and​ ​that​ ​amplified​ ​the​ ​effect​ ​of​ ​being​ ​in​ ​that​ ​dress,​ ​the​ ​one​ ​that​ ​Julia​ ​might have​ ​worn.

As​ ​his​ ​confidence​ ​rose,​ ​he​ ​began​ ​striking​ ​poses​ ​like​ ​he​ ​had​ ​done yesterday.​ ​​​Then​ ​he​ ​broke​ ​away​ ​to​ ​hook​ ​the​ ​dress​ ​up​ ​in​ ​front,​ ​using​ ​large safety​ ​pins.​ ​​​Now​ ​he​ ​could​ ​have​ ​his​ ​hands​ ​free.​ ​​​That​ ​allowed​ ​him​ ​to finger-comb​ ​his​ ​hair,​ ​run​ ​his​ ​hands​ ​down​ ​his​ ​sides,​ ​and​ ​raise​ ​the​ ​dress​ ​in back​ ​so​ ​he​ ​could​ ​turn​ ​around​ ​and​ ​look​ ​over​ ​his​ ​shoulder​ ​at​ ​the​ ​reflection​ ​of his​ ​shapely​ ​buttocks.​ ​​​He​ ​stuck​ ​his​ ​tongue​ ​out​ ​at​ ​himself​ ​and​ ​giggled​ ​at​ ​the sight.​ ​​​Facing​ ​his​ ​reflection​ ​once​ ​more,​ ​Dylan​ ​resumed​ ​masturbating.​ ​​​He moved​ ​away,​ ​got​ ​a​ ​second​ ​dress,​ ​and​ ​went​ ​to​ ​the​ ​bed.​ ​​​When​ ​he​ ​laid​ ​back on​ ​the​ ​mattress,​ ​it​ ​was​ ​as​ ​if​ ​he​ ​was​ ​in​ ​another​ ​world.​ ​​​He​ ​spread​ ​the second​ ​dress​ ​on​ ​top​ ​of​ ​himself,​ ​so​ ​that​ ​he​ ​felt​ ​completely​ ​enclosed​ ​by​ ​the feminine​ ​garments.​ ​​​His​ ​hand​ ​kept​ ​pumping.​ ​​​He​ ​shoved​ ​the​ ​fingers​ ​of​ ​his other​ ​hand​ ​into​ ​his​ ​mouth​ ​and​ ​closed​ ​his​ ​jaws.​ ​​​Moaning​ ​loudly​ ​into​ ​the improvised​ ​gag,​ ​he​ ​climbed​ ​toward​ ​a​ ​climax.​ ​​​Before​ ​he​ ​could​ ​consider​ ​the consequences,​ ​his​ ​little​ ​dick​ ​spurted.​ ​​​His​ ​orgasm​ ​made​ ​him​ ​arch​ ​his​ ​back for​ ​a​ ​moment​ ​before​ ​he​ ​collapsed​ ​back​ ​into​ ​an​ ​exhausted​ ​daze,​ ​unaware​ ​of his​ ​surroundings.

Dylan​ ​pushed​ ​the​ ​heavy​ ​dress​ ​covering​ ​him​ ​to​ ​the​ ​side​ ​and​ ​it​ ​dropped​ ​to the​ ​floor.​ ​​​With​ ​the​ ​one​ ​he​ ​was​ ​wearing​ ​still​ ​pinned​ ​up,​

​he​ ​remained​ ​in​ ​that state​ ​for​ ​almost​ ​a​ ​quarter​ ​of​ ​an​ ​hour.​ ​​​His​ ​mini-adventure​ ​into​ ​fantasy​ ​had been​ ​so​ ​erotic​ ​that​ ​he​ ​was​ ​still​ ​feeling​ ​aroused.​ ​​​He​ ​played​ ​with​ ​his​ ​spent penis,​ ​using​ ​his​ ​own​ ​spunk​ ​as​ ​lube.​ ​​​Undoing​ ​the​ ​front​ ​of​ ​the​ ​dress,​ ​he spread​ ​the​ ​halves​ ​of​ ​the​ ​bodice​ ​and​ ​used​ ​his​ ​other​ ​hand​ ​to​ ​play​ ​with​ ​his receptive​ ​nipples.​ ​​​His​ ​member​ ​didn't​ ​get​ ​hard​ ​again​ ​but​ ​it​ ​was​ ​so​ ​nice​ ​just to​ ​be​ ​handling​ ​it.​ ​​​He​ ​writhed​ ​his​ ​hips,​ ​eyes​ ​closed​ ​and​ ​mouth​ ​opened. That​ ​went​ ​on​ ​for​ ​a​ ​timeless​ ​time,​ ​until​ ​he​ ​slowly​ ​came​ ​back​ ​to​ ​reality.

That​ ​was​ ​when​ ​he​ ​got​ ​the​ ​second​ ​dress​ ​off​ ​the​ ​floor​ ​and​ ​saw​ ​that​ ​he​ ​had shot​ ​his​ ​mess​ ​all​ ​over​ ​it.​ ​​​​​What​ ​if​ ​someone​ ​spotted​ ​that?​ ​​​And​ ​they somehow​ ​realized​ ​it​ ​was​ ​him​ ​who​ ​did​ ​it?​ ​​​After​ ​all,​ ​he​ ​was​ ​getting​ ​known​ ​as the​ ​'costume​ ​guy'.​ ​​​Dylan​ ​sat​ ​on​ ​the​ ​edge​ ​of​ ​the​ ​bed​ ​with​ ​his​ ​head​ ​hung. The​ ​idea​ ​of​ ​having​ ​his​ ​secret​ ​practices​ ​exposed​ ​was​ ​heart-stopping.​ ​​​Then he​ ​had​ ​an​ ​inspiration.​ ​​​He​ ​was​ ​the​ ​only​ ​one​ ​there.​ ​​​No​ ​one​ ​would​ ​know​ ​if he​ ​--​ ​did​ ​he​ ​dare?​ ​--​ ​if​ ​he​ ​took​ ​it​ ​home​ ​with​ ​him.​ ​​​Naturally,​ ​he​ ​would​ ​only be​ ​doing​ ​that​ ​so​ ​he​ ​could​ ​clean​ ​the​ ​garment.​ ​​​That​ ​was​ ​all.​ ​​​And​ ​maybe​ ​try it​ ​on​ ​again.​ ​​​Once.​ ​​​Or​ ​twice.​ ​​​So​ ​he​ ​smuggled​ ​it​ ​out​ ​of​ ​the​ ​building​ ​and​ ​put it​ ​lovingly​ ​into​ ​the​ ​trunk​ ​of​ ​his​ ​car.

As​ ​soon​ ​as​ ​he​ ​got​ ​home​ ​he​ ​snuck​ ​it​ ​into​ ​his​ ​room​ ​and​ ​spread​ ​it​ ​out​ ​on​ ​his bed.​ ​​​The​ ​stains​ ​he​ ​had​ ​made​ ​were​ ​mostly​ ​dried.​ ​​​He​ ​folded​ ​the​ ​dress​ ​so that​ ​they​ ​were​ ​covered.​ ​​​Then​ ​he​ ​got​ ​completely​ ​undressed​ ​and​ ​lay​ ​on​ ​top of​ ​it.​ ​​​The​ ​contact​ ​of​ ​all​ ​that​ ​smooth​ ​material​ ​against​ ​his​ ​soft​ ​body​ ​was wonderful.​ ​​​He​ ​lay​ ​there​

​relishing​ ​the​ ​sensations​ ​that​ ​were​ ​running​ ​through him.​ ​​​And​ ​there​ ​was​ ​no​ ​rush​ ​to​ ​get​ ​the​ ​dress​ ​back.​ ​​​If​ ​he​ ​rearranged​ ​a​ ​few of​ ​the​ ​others,​ ​no​ ​one​ ​would​ ​notice​ ​its​ ​absence.​ ​​​And​ ​if​ ​they​ ​needed​ ​that specific​ ​one​ ​he​ ​could​ ​--​ ​well​ ​--​ ​think​ ​of​ ​something.​ ​​​Maybe​ ​say​ ​that​ ​he​ ​had moved​ ​a​ ​few​ ​to​ ​the​ ​backup​ ​storage​ ​area.​ ​​​Sure.​ ​​​That​ ​would​ ​cover​ ​him.

The​ ​new​ ​production​ ​had​ ​started​ ​its​ ​run,​ ​but​ ​the​ ​theater​ ​was​ ​empty​ ​after each​ ​performance.​ ​​​Over​ ​the​ ​next​ ​week​ ​and​ ​a​ ​half,​ ​he​ ​enjoyed​ ​several more​ ​episodes​ ​of​ ​playing​ ​dress-up​ ​on​ ​the​ ​vacant​ ​stage​ ​and​ ​playing​ ​with himself​ ​at​ ​the​ ​same​ ​time.​ ​​​The​ ​more​ ​times​ ​he​ ​got​ ​spots​ ​on​ ​the​ ​dresses,​ ​the less​ ​important​ ​each​ ​one​ ​seemed.​ ​​​And​ ​he​ ​was​ ​slipping​ ​them​ ​out​ ​of​ ​there​ ​to smuggle​ ​home,​ ​so​ ​no​ ​one​ ​need​ ​ever​ ​know.​ ​​​Dylan​ ​was​ ​in​ ​deepening​ ​denial but​ ​he​ ​didn't​ ​see​ ​it​ ​that​ ​way.​ ​​​He​ ​was​ ​simply...​ ​experimenting.​ ​​​One​ ​of​ ​the interesting​ ​discoveries​ ​he​ ​made​ ​was​ ​that​ ​he​ ​didn't​ ​want​ ​to​ ​masturbate​ ​with the​ ​dresses​ ​at​ ​his​ ​place.​ ​​​He​ ​loved​ ​wearing​ ​them​ ​there,​ ​and​ ​it​ ​got​ ​his​ ​little prick​ ​standing​ ​up​ ​every​ ​time.​ ​​​But​ ​jerking​ ​off​ ​was​ ​only​ ​a​ ​thrill​ ​when​ ​he​ ​was alone​ ​on​ ​the​ ​stage.​ ​​​Maybe​ ​it​ ​was​ ​because​ ​that​ ​was​ ​where​ ​Julia​ ​was​ ​so often.​ ​​​Or​ ​it​ ​was​ ​just​ ​the​ ​knowledge​ ​that​ ​he​ ​was​ ​doing​ ​something​ ​very forbidden,​ ​and​ ​even​ ​risky.​ ​​​Whatever​ ​the​ ​explanation,​ ​he​ ​couldn't​ ​stop​ ​what he​ ​was​ ​doing​ ​and,​ ​more​ ​importantly,​ ​where​ ​he​ ​was​ ​doing​ ​it.

Dylan​ ​went​ ​to​ ​that​ ​deep​ ​storage​ ​area​ ​just​ ​to​ ​see​ ​what​ ​else​ ​might​ ​be​ ​there. He​ ​was​ ​delighted​ ​by​ ​what​ ​turned​ ​up.​ ​​​There​ ​were​ ​several​ ​dresses​ ​that were​ ​somehow​ ​extra​ ​racy.​ ​​​They​ ​were​ ​still​ ​period​ ​ones,​

​with​ ​full​ ​skirts​ ​and fancy​ ​detailing,​ ​long​ ​sleeves​ ​and​ ​high​ ​necks.​ ​​​But​ ​they​ ​were​ ​tailored differently​ ​and​ ​hugged​ ​his​ ​body​ ​in​ ​ways​ ​the​ ​​​others​ ​hadn't.​ ​​​When​ ​he looked​ ​in​ ​the​ ​mirror​ ​now​ ​he​ ​saw​ ​not​ ​a​ ​demure​ ​woman​ ​of​ ​the​ ​past​ ​who might​ ​sometimes​ ​become​ ​sexually​ ​abandoned.​ ​​​Instead​ ​he​ ​saw​ ​a lascivious​ ​girl​ ​who​ ​craved​ ​male​ ​attention​ ​and​ ​was​ ​ready​ ​to​ ​reciprocate.​ ​​​He was​ ​in​ ​one​ ​of​ ​those,​ ​on​ ​the​ ​bed,​ ​the​ ​skirt​ ​bunched​ ​up​ ​around​ ​his​ ​waist, happily​ ​pulling​ ​his​ ​small​ ​penis,​ ​when​ ​everything​ ​changed.

From​ ​the​ ​dark​ ​he​ ​heard​ ​a​ ​male​ ​voice​ ​say,​ ​"Busted!" Another​ ​called​ ​out,​ ​"And​ ​surrounded."

As​ ​Dylan​ ​lay​ ​there,​ ​trying​ ​unsuccessfully​ ​to​ ​push​ ​the​ ​skirt​ ​back​ ​down​ ​over his​ ​naked​ ​lower​ ​body,​ ​several​ ​figures​ ​emerged​ ​from​ ​the​ ​shadows.​ ​​​The​ ​first was​ ​Javon,​ ​neatly​ ​dressed​ ​as​ ​if​ ​for​ ​a​ ​date.​ ​​​The​ ​other​ ​three,​ ​also​ ​Black, looked​ ​more​ ​thuggish.​ ​​​They​ ​penned​ ​him​ ​in​ ​on​ ​the​ ​bed​ ​and​ ​one​ ​reached out​ ​to​ ​grab​ ​the​ ​hem​ ​of​ ​the​ ​skirt​ ​and​ ​pull​ ​it​ ​up​ ​even​ ​higher​ ​than​ ​it​ ​had​ ​been. Several​ ​phones​ ​appeared​ ​in​ ​dark​ ​hands​ ​and​ ​pictures​ ​were​ ​taken.

Javon​ ​said,​ ​"Look​ ​at​ ​what​ ​we​ ​got​ ​here,​ ​men.​ ​​​The​ ​white​ ​fairy​ ​princess​ ​all dressed​ ​up​ ​for​ ​the​ ​ball.​ ​​​Looking​ ​for​ ​her​ ​prince.​ ​​​Preferably​ ​one​ ​with​ ​a super-size​ ​cock."

"She-it,"​ ​said​ ​one​ ​of​ ​the​ ​Black​ ​guys.​ ​​​"Maybe​ ​we​ ​ought​ ​to​ ​enroll​ ​in​ ​this place."

"What?"​ ​​​Dylan​ ​reached​ ​for​ ​the​ ​hem​ ​of​ ​his​ ​dress​ ​again​ ​but​ ​an​ ​angry​ ​glance from​ ​the​ ​guy​ ​who​ ​had​ ​pulled​ ​it​ ​up​ ​stopped​ ​him.​ ​​​"I'm​ ​not​ ​a​ ​fairy.​ ​​​I​ ​was just...​ ​uh...​ ​method​ ​acting.​ ​​​Getting​ ​into​ ​a​ ​role."

"Whoa,"​ ​Javon​ ​interrupted.​ ​​​"You're​ ​playing​ ​Clown,​ ​the​ ​easiest​ ​part​ ​in Othello.​ ​​​And​ ​he​ ​sure​ ​ain't​ ​no​ ​pansy​ ​cross​ ​dresser.​ ​​​Plus,​ ​unless​ ​I'm forgetting​ ​my​ ​Shakespeare,​ ​there's​ ​no​ ​scene​ ​where​ ​he​ ​jacks​ ​his​ ​Jones. Right?"

"Well,​ ​yes.​ ​​​I​ ​was​ ​thinking​ ​more​ ​of​ ​how​ ​boys​ ​used​ ​to​ ​play​ ​girls​ ​in​ ​the​ ​old days."

"Right.​ ​​​I​ ​know​ ​my​ ​Shakespeare​ ​101.​ ​​​I​ ​know​ ​that​ ​they​ ​used​ ​to​ ​have​ ​the stage​ ​direction,​ ​'ENTER:​ ​Dressed​ ​As​ ​Girl'.​ ​​​And​ ​I​ ​know​ ​that​ ​got​ ​shortened to​ ​'drag'.​ ​​​As​ ​in,​ ​I​ ​still​ ​don't​ ​know​ ​what​ ​you're​ ​doing​ ​there​ ​in​ ​drag,​ ​pulling your​ ​miniature​ ​pud.​ ​​​The​ ​only​ ​answer​ ​I​ ​can​ ​figure​ ​out​ ​is​ ​that​ ​you​ ​are​ ​a stone​ ​faggot​ ​wimp​ ​sissy.​ ​​​Am​ ​I​ ​right​ ​or​ ​am​ ​I​ ​right?"

"Not...​ ​the​ ​way​ ​you​ ​mean​ ​it...​ ​I​ ​just​ ​like​ ​to...​ ​dress​ ​this​ ​way.​ ​​​But​ ​I​ ​only started​ ​doing​ ​it​ ​recently."

More​ ​pictures​ ​were​ ​taken.​ ​​​Javon​ ​snapped​ ​at​ ​him​ ​to​ ​get​ ​up.​ ​​​"And​ ​don't give​ ​me​ ​anymore​ ​sorry​ ​excuses.​ ​​​From​ ​here​ ​on​ ​in,​ ​you​ ​just​ ​do​ ​what​ ​me​ ​and my​ ​crew​ ​tell​ ​you.​ ​​​Otherwise,​ ​the​ ​shots​ ​they​ ​been​ ​taking​ ​are​ ​going​ ​to​ ​go viral.​ ​​​Understood?"

"Go...?​ ​​​You​ ​would...?​ ​​​But​ ​then​ ​I'd​ ​be..."​ ​​​It​ ​all​ ​sank​ ​in​ ​and​ ​Dylan​ ​stood there​ ​in​ ​the​ ​dress​ ​that​ ​was​ ​so​ ​sexy​ ​in​ ​a​ ​historical​ ​way.​ ​​​"Yes,​ ​Sir."

"That's​ ​more​ ​like​ ​it.​ ​​​Now​ ​you're​ ​skirt​ ​fell​ ​down​ ​and​ ​I​ ​didn't​ ​say​ ​that​ ​was okay."​ ​​​He​ ​looked​ ​at​ ​the​ ​other​ ​three​ ​young​ ​Black​ ​men.​ ​​​"Did​ ​any​ ​of​ ​you dogs​ ​say​ ​it​ ​was​ ​okay?​ ​​​No?"​ ​​​His​ ​attention​ ​returned​ ​to​ ​Dylan.​ ​​​"So​ ​let's​ ​get it​ ​back​ ​up​ ​where​ ​it​ ​was,​ ​candy​ ​ass."

Dylan​ ​unenthusiastically​ ​gathered​ ​up​ ​the​ ​skirt​ ​in​ ​front,​ ​revealing​ ​his​ ​penis, which​ ​was​ ​now​ ​limp​ ​from​ ​all​ ​the​ ​upset.​ ​​​He​ ​stood​ ​there​ ​with​ ​his​ ​thighs pressed​ ​together​ ​in​ ​a​ ​failed​ ​attempt​ ​at​ ​modesty.

Javon​ ​went​ ​on,​ ​"So​ ​here's​ ​what​ ​you're​ ​going​ ​to​ ​do.​ ​​​First,​ ​you're​ ​almost hairless​ ​down​ ​there.​ ​​​But​ ​I​ ​don't​ ​want​ ​to​ ​see​ ​that​ ​peach​ ​fuzz​ ​growing​ ​above your​ ​baby​ ​size​ ​dick.​ ​​​So​ ​tonight​ ​you​ ​make​ ​sure​ ​to​ ​get​ ​rid​ ​of​ ​it.​ ​​​Buy​ ​yourself one​ ​of​ ​those​ ​handy​ ​razors​ ​like​ ​the​ ​girls​

​all​ ​use.​ ​​​And​ ​some​ ​girl​ ​style​ ​shaving cream.​ ​​​And​ ​while​ ​you're​ ​shaving​ ​down​ ​there,​ ​get​ ​rid​ ​of​ ​anymore​ ​you​ ​have anywhere​ ​else.​ ​​​I​ ​want​ ​you​ ​clean​ ​and​ ​pink​ ​all​ ​over,​ ​like​ ​a​ ​bitch."

As​ ​if​ ​to​ ​reinforce​ ​Javon's​ ​words,​ ​one​ ​of​ ​his​ ​backups​ ​stepped​ ​in,​ ​fists​ ​balled at​ ​his​ ​sides,​ ​and​ ​gave​ ​Dylan​ ​an​ ​angry​ ​scowl.​ ​​​"Yo.​ ​​​Tell​ ​the​ ​man​ ​you​ ​going to​ ​do​ ​what​ ​he​ ​says."

"Yes,​ ​Sir.​ ​​​Yes,​ ​Javon.​ ​​​I'll​ ​do​ ​that.​ ​​​Tonight.​ ​​​Like​ ​you​ ​said."​ ​​​His​ ​voice​ ​was quivering.​ ​​​He​ ​wished​ ​they​ ​would​ ​allow​ ​him​ ​to​ ​cover​ ​himself.

"And​ ​then,"​ ​Javon​ ​continued,​ ​"you​ ​going​ ​to​ ​meet​ ​up​ ​with​ ​us,​ ​tomorrow​​nightat​​eight.​​​​We'll​​all​​get​​together​​in​​the​​old​​gym.​​​​Now​ ​that​ ​the​ ​new​ ​one's​ ​done being​ ​built,​ ​they​ ​leave​ ​the​ ​other​ ​locked​ ​up.​ ​​​But​ ​I​ ​got​ ​myself​ ​a​ ​key.​ ​​​So​ ​you report​ ​for​ ​sissy​ ​duty​ ​and​ ​we'll​ ​be​ ​there​ ​to​ ​help​ ​you​ ​get​ ​into​ ​the​ ​new​ ​part you'll​ ​be​ ​playing.​ ​​​Damn,​ ​you​ ​said​ ​you​ ​was​ ​method​ ​acting.​ ​​​Well,​ ​you​ ​going to​ ​get​ ​into​ ​the​ ​method​ ​real​ ​deep,​ ​and​ ​with​ ​us​ ​four​ ​to​ ​be​ ​your​ ​acting coaches.​ ​​​Going​ ​to​ ​help​ ​you​ ​get​ ​into​ ​the​ ​roll​ ​of​ ​sissy​ ​who​ ​don't​ ​want​ ​to​ ​have them​ ​pictures​ ​sent​ ​to​ ​the​ ​campus​ ​cops,​ ​and​ ​administration,​ ​and​ ​even Professor​ ​Smyth,​ ​who​ ​might​ ​like​ ​them,​ ​if​ ​you​ ​know​ ​what​ ​I​ ​mean."

"I...​ ​all​ ​right,"​ ​Dylan​ ​conceded​ ​in​ ​defeat.​ ​​​"The​ ​old​ ​gym​ ​tomorrow​ ​at​ ​eight."

One​ ​of​ ​the​ ​other​ ​guys​ ​said,​ ​"How​ ​about​ ​if​ ​he​ ​bring​ ​a​ ​dress.​ ​​​A​ ​real​ ​old-time slutty​ ​one​ ​like​ ​he​ ​got​ ​now."

"I​ ​shouldn't,"​ ​Dylan​ ​objected.​ ​​​"I​ ​already​ ​have​ ​too​ ​many​ ​at​ ​my​ ​place​ ​and..." He​ ​ran​ ​out​ ​of​ ​words.​ ​​​Clearly,​ ​they​ ​didn't​ ​care.

Javon​ ​made​ ​a​ ​mental​ ​note​ ​of​ ​that​ ​unintended​ ​revelation.​ ​​​He​ ​said,​ ​"Just​ ​be there,​ ​girly​ ​girl.​ ​​​With​ ​the​ ​dress.​ ​​​Now​ ​how​ ​about​ ​a​ ​few​ ​more​ ​poses​ ​for​ ​me and​ ​my​ ​posse?​ ​​​Like​ ​get​ ​on​ ​your​ ​knees​ ​with​ ​--​ ​"​ ​​​He​ ​went​ ​to​ ​a​ ​table​ ​and picked​ ​up​ ​a​ ​plastic​ ​bottle​ ​of​ ​hair​ ​gel.​ ​​​"​ ​--​ ​with​ ​this​ ​in​ ​your​ ​hand.​ ​​​First​ ​up, hold​ ​it​ ​alongside​ ​that​ ​shrunk​ ​up​ ​dick,​ ​so​ ​everybody​ ​can​ ​see​ ​how​ ​small​ ​it really​ ​is.​ ​​​Then​ ​get​ ​yourself​ ​hard​ ​again.​ ​​​It'll​ ​be​ ​fun​ ​for​ ​us​ ​to​ ​watch​ ​you​ ​do that.​ ​​​And​ ​do​ ​the​ ​size​ ​comparison​ ​a​ ​second​ ​time.​ ​​​You​ ​still​ ​won't​ ​come​ ​out looking​ ​too​ ​good.​ ​​​Then,​ ​for​ ​the​ ​big​ ​finish,​ ​give​ ​that​ ​bottle​ ​some​ ​licking,​ ​and get​ ​your​ ​sissy​ ​lips​ ​around​ ​the​ ​top​ ​of​ ​it,​ ​like​ ​its​ ​a​ ​cock​ ​you​ ​be​ ​sucking​ ​off. Me​ ​and​ ​my​ ​buddy's​ ​will​ ​make​ ​sure​ ​there're​ ​plenty​ ​of​ ​pictures,​ ​just​ ​in​ ​case you​ ​need​ ​more​ ​persuasion​ ​later."

Dylan​ ​followed​ ​those​ ​mortifying​ ​directions,​ ​while​ ​the​ ​quartet​ ​or​ ​Black tormentors​ ​laughed​ ​and​ ​took​ ​many​ ​more​ ​pictures.​ ​​​They​ ​even​ ​sent​ ​some​ ​of them​ ​to​ ​friends,​ ​just​ ​for​ ​fun,​ ​which​ ​proved​ ​to​ ​their​ ​victim​ ​how​ ​ready​ ​they were​ ​to​ ​expose​ ​him​ ​more​ ​widely.​ ​​​They​

​taunted​ ​him​ ​too,​ ​about​ ​how​ ​gay​ ​he acted,​ ​how​ ​small​ ​his​ ​dick​ ​was,​ ​and​ ​how​ ​he​ ​was​ ​lucky​ ​he​ ​wasn't​ ​into​ ​girls, because​ ​no​ ​female​ ​would​ ​be​ ​interested​ ​in​ ​him​ ​with​ ​the​ ​bad​ ​news​ ​he​ ​had between​ ​his​ ​legs.

At​ ​last,​ ​with​ ​the​ ​foursome​ ​satisfied​ ​and​ ​Dylan​ ​feeling​ ​exhausted,​ ​on​ ​the verge​ ​of​ ​a​ ​mini-breakdown,​ ​Javon's​ ​three​ ​friends​ ​left.​ ​​​The​ ​student​ ​in​ ​the dress​ ​looked​ ​at​ ​his​ ​fellow​ ​actor.

"But,"​ ​Dylan​ ​wanted​ ​to​ ​know,​ ​"how​ ​did​ ​you​ ​find​ ​out​ ​what​ ​I​ ​was​ ​doing​ ​in here?"

"Well,​ ​stupid,​ ​you​ ​screwed​ ​up​ ​and​ ​did​ ​the​ ​humpty​ ​dance​ ​with​ ​your​ ​hand​ ​in one​ ​of​ ​the​ ​dresses​ ​Julia​ ​plans​ ​to​ ​wear​ ​for​ ​the​ ​real​ ​performances.​ ​​​And​ ​then you​ ​didn't​ ​take​ ​care​ ​of​ ​them​ ​pecker​ ​tracks.​ ​​​It​ ​freaked​ ​her​ ​to​ ​find​ ​your​ ​little sissy​ ​shots​ ​on​ ​her​ ​dress.​ ​​​She​ ​knew​ ​something​ ​was​ ​up.​ ​​​Then​ ​she​ ​told​ ​me because,​ ​you​ ​know,​ ​I'm​ ​her​ ​boyfriend.​ ​​​And​ ​we​ ​figured​ ​you​ ​were​ ​doing​ ​it right​ ​here,​ ​and​ ​you'd​ ​seen​ ​me​ ​and​ ​Julia​ ​getting​ ​to​ ​know​ ​each​ ​other.​ ​​​​​You did​ ​spy​ ​on​ ​us​ ​--​ ​right?"​ ​​​After​ ​Dylan​ ​confessed,​ ​Javon​ ​went​ ​on,​ ​​​​​"Then​ ​I decided​ ​to​ ​catch​ ​you​ ​at​ ​your​ ​nasty​ ​game.​ ​​​So​ ​I​ ​came​ ​in,​ ​real​ ​quite-like,​ ​and saw​ ​what​ ​you​ ​was​ ​doing.​ ​​​From​ ​there​ ​it​ ​was​ ​easy​ ​to​ ​get​ ​my​ ​boys​ ​and​ ​set up​ ​this​ ​--​ ​let's​ ​call​ ​it​ ​--​ ​sissy​ ​intervention.​ ​​​Now​ ​we're​ ​going​ ​to​ ​help​ ​you​ ​get in​ ​touch​ ​with​ ​your​ ​real​ ​self.​ ​​​The​ ​queer​ ​inside."

"But,​ ​I'm​ ​not​ ​that​ ​way.​ ​​​Honestly."

"Maybe​ ​not.​ ​​​I've​ ​seen​ ​you​ ​getting​ ​all​ ​dreamy​ ​when​ ​you​ ​look​ ​at​ ​Julia.​ ​​​But​ ​I think​ ​your​ ​sissy​ ​side​ ​is​ ​the​ ​boss​ ​of​ ​you.​ ​​​It's​ ​like​ ​some​ ​of​ ​that​ ​truth​ ​they teach​ ​us​ ​in​ ​psychology​ ​class.​ ​​​Hey,​ ​maybe​ ​I​ ​can​ ​get​ ​a​ ​term​ ​paper​ ​out​ ​of this."

"Please,​ ​no,"​ ​Dylan​ ​pleaded.
"That​ ​was​ ​me​ ​funning​ ​you.​ ​​​But​ ​the​ ​other​ ​part​ ​is​ ​deadly​ ​serious.​

​​​Tomorrow
night.​ ​​​Eight.​ ​​​You​ ​know​ ​where.​ ​​​See​ ​you​ ​then,​ ​sweet​ ​cheeks."

After​ ​that​ ​Dylan​ ​had​ ​a​ ​restless​ ​night.​ ​​​All​ ​the​ ​next​ ​day​ ​in​ ​classes​ ​his​ ​mind was​ ​elsewhere.​ ​​​After​ ​classes​ ​he​ ​had​ ​time​ ​to​ ​kill.​ ​​​As​ ​he​ ​wandered​ ​around campus,​ ​he​ ​kept​ ​thinking​ ​that​ ​people​ ​were​ ​looking​ ​at​ ​him​ ​with​ ​knowledge​ ​of his​ ​secrets.​ ​​​At​ ​7:30​ ​he​ ​went​ ​to​ ​get​ ​a​ ​dress​ ​from​ ​the​ ​theater.​ ​​​He​ ​held​ ​it against​ ​him​ ​and​ ​tried​ ​to​ ​think​ ​positive​ ​thoughts​ ​about​ ​Julia.​ ​​​But​ ​she​ ​was the​ ​one​ ​who​ ​had​ ​outed​ ​him.​ ​​​And​ ​Javon​ ​might​ ​have​ ​told​ ​her​ ​what​ ​they'd discovered.​ ​​​Maybe​ ​even​ ​shown​ ​her​ ​some​ ​of​ ​those​ ​incriminating​ ​photos. He​ ​was​ ​devastated.​ ​​​Well,​ ​he​ ​told​ ​himself,​ ​he​ ​had​ ​to​ ​get​ ​this​ ​over​ ​with. Dylan​ ​decided​ ​that,​ ​if​ ​he​ ​endured​ ​more​ ​of​ ​their​ ​torment,​ ​and​ ​tried​

​to​ ​act​ ​like the​ ​situation​ ​wasn't​ ​overly​ ​serious,​ ​they​ ​would​ ​just​ ​lose​ ​interest​ ​in​ ​upsetting him​ ​and​ ​that​ ​would​ ​be​ ​the​ ​end​ ​of​ ​it.​ ​​​Sure.​ ​​​It​ ​wasn't​ ​like​ ​they​ ​were​ ​going​ ​to do​ ​more​ ​than​ ​make​ ​fun​ ​of​ ​him​ ​and​ ​have​ ​their​ ​cruel​ ​entertainment.​ ​​​Was​ ​it?

He​ ​got​ ​to​ ​the​ ​darkened​ ​old​ ​gym​ ​precisely​ ​at​ ​eight,​ ​figuring​ ​that​ ​tardiness was​ ​a​ ​bad​ ​idea.​ ​​​The​ ​door​ ​was​ ​unlocked​ ​and​ ​there​ ​was​ ​a​ ​light​ ​on​ ​in​ ​the locker​ ​room.​ ​​​He​ ​had​ ​bad​ ​memories​ ​of​ ​locker​ ​rooms​ ​past,​ ​where classmates​ ​had​ ​seen​ ​and​ ​mocked​ ​his​ ​supposedly​ ​undersized​ ​endowment. He​ ​went​ ​to​ ​where​ ​light​ ​was​ ​showing​ ​under​ ​the​ ​door​ ​and,​ ​not​ ​sure​ ​how​ ​to approach​ ​them,​ ​knocked​ ​respectfully.

There​ ​was​ ​laughter​ ​from​ ​inside​ ​and​ ​Javon's​ ​voice​ ​told​ ​him,​ ​"Come​ ​on​ ​in, missy."

Dylan​ ​entered​ ​the​ ​locker​ ​room​ ​and​ ​found​ ​all​ ​four​ ​of​ ​them​ ​waiting.​ ​​​One​ ​of them,​ ​who​ ​he​ ​had​ ​heard​ ​Javon​ ​call​ ​Tyler,​ ​told​ ​him​ ​to​ ​get​ ​naked.​ ​​​With​ ​their eyes​ ​on​ ​him,​ ​the​ ​sole​ ​white​ ​person​ ​in​ ​the​ ​room​ ​had​ ​to​ ​strip​ ​down.​ ​​​He​ ​stood there​ ​shifting​ ​his​ ​feet​ ​until​ ​Tyler​ ​barked​ ​at​ ​him​ ​to​ ​stay​ ​still.​ ​​​The​ ​threatening Black​ ​figure​ ​came​ ​close​ ​to​ ​him​ ​and​ ​put​ ​his​ ​hand​ ​on​ ​Dylan's​ ​bare​ ​shoulder with​ ​easy​ ​familiarity.

He​ ​said,​ ​"Hey,​ ​boy,​ ​you​ ​got​ ​to​ ​trust​ ​us.​ ​​​All​ ​we're​ ​doing​ ​her​ ​is​ ​settling​ ​a score.​ ​​​You​ ​spied​ ​on​ ​our​ ​main​ ​man​ ​and​ ​his​ ​woman.​ ​​​You​ ​know​ ​who​ ​I mean.​ ​​​That​ ​blond​ ​girl​ ​who​ ​loves​ ​spreading​ ​her​ ​legs​ ​for​ ​his​ ​big...​ ​black... pussy-splitter.​ ​​​So​ ​we​ ​have​ ​to​ ​do​ ​what​ ​we​ ​have​ ​to​ ​do."​ ​​​His​ ​hand​ ​slid​ ​down Dylan's​ ​back​ ​and​ ​caressed​ ​his​ ​bottom.​ ​​​"Then,​ ​since​ ​you​ ​look​ ​like​ ​a​ ​white girl​ ​yourself,​ ​it​ ​just​ ​makes​ ​sense​ ​for​ ​us​ ​to​ ​treat​ ​you​ ​like​ ​one.​ ​​​And​ ​for​ ​you​ ​to play​ ​along.​ ​​​​​Get​ ​into​ ​the​ ​part.​ ​​​You​ ​know,​ ​cause​ ​your​ ​an​ ​actor​ ​and​ ​all.​ ​​​Or actress."​ ​​​He​ ​laughed​ ​at​ ​his​ ​own​ ​humor.​ ​​​The​ ​others​ ​joined​ ​in.​ ​​​"But​ ​we don't​ ​want​ ​to​ ​make​ ​it​ ​too​ ​rough​ ​on​ ​you."​ ​​​He​ ​moved​ ​his​ ​hand​ ​to​ ​Dylan's wrist​ ​and​ ​gripped​ ​it​ ​tighter​ ​than​ ​the​ ​student​ ​would​ ​have​ ​preferred.​ ​​​Tyler rubbed​ ​his​ ​thumb​ ​over​ ​Dylan's​ ​palm​ ​and​ ​said,​ ​"Now​ ​one​ ​thing​ ​you​ ​got that's​ ​real​ ​girly​ ​is​ ​how​ ​soft​ ​you​ ​are.​ ​​​This​ ​hand​ ​is​ ​damn​ ​soft.​ ​​​Feels​ ​like​ ​a pussy​ ​almost.​ ​​​And​ ​a​ ​pussy​ ​feels​ ​good​ ​on​ ​a​ ​cock.​ ​​​So​ ​how​ ​about​ ​you​ ​put on​ ​that​ ​slutty​ ​dress,​ ​get​ ​down​ ​on​ ​your​ ​knees,​ ​take​ ​my​ ​rod​ ​out​ ​of​ ​my​ ​pants, and​ ​give​ ​me​ ​some​ ​hand​ ​pussy.​ ​​​You​ ​want​ ​to​ ​do​ ​that​ ​for​ ​me?​ ​​​Just​ ​to​ ​help make​ ​things​ ​right?"​ ​​​When​ ​Dylan​ ​was​ ​too​ ​scared​ ​to​ ​speak,​ ​Tyler​ ​added, "Or​ ​would​ ​you​ ​rather​ ​do​ ​something​ ​else​ ​girly​ ​for​ ​me,​ ​instead?"

"No,​ ​Sir.​ ​​​I​ ​mean,​ ​yes,​ ​Sir.​ ​​​I'll​ ​do​ ​that​ ​with​ ​my​ ​hand.​ ​​​Just​ ​please,​ ​not​ ​the other​ ​thing."

The​ ​barely​ ​veiled​ ​threat​ ​set​ ​Dylan​ ​into​ ​action.​ ​​​He​ ​got​ ​the​ ​dress​ ​and,​ ​with all​ ​of​ ​them​ ​still​ ​eyeing​ ​him​ ​and​ ​snickering,​ ​put​ ​it​ ​on.​ ​​​Having​ ​Tyler​ ​call​ ​it slutty​ ​made​ ​him​ ​understand​ ​that,​ ​just​ ​as​ ​he'd​ ​seen​ ​it​ ​that​ ​way​ ​before, others​ ​could​ ​perceive​ ​it​ ​the​ ​same​ ​way.​

​​​Dylan​ ​suddenly​ ​felt​ ​like​ ​a​ ​courtesan or,​ ​perhaps​ ​more​ ​accurately,​ ​a​ ​fallen​ ​woman.​ ​​​Once​ ​he​ ​was​ ​dressed​ ​he sank​ ​to​ ​his​ ​knees​ ​in​ ​front​ ​of​ ​the​ ​waiting​ ​Black​ ​guy.​ ​​​His​ ​unsteady​ ​hands came​ ​up​ ​and​ ​he​ ​began​ ​to​ ​undo​ ​Tyler's​ ​pants.​ ​​​Less​ ​than​ ​a​ ​minute​ ​later, despite​ ​clumsiness​ ​born​ ​of​ ​fear,​ ​he​ ​had​ ​Tyler's​ ​cock​ ​freed​ ​and​ ​in​ ​his​ ​hand. It​ ​was​ ​alarmingly​ ​big,​ ​like​ ​Javon's.​ ​​​As​ ​soon​ ​as​ ​Dylan​ ​began​ ​to​ ​gently knead​ ​it,​ ​the​ ​length​ ​began​ ​to​ ​grow.​ ​​​It​ ​quickly​ ​went​ ​from​ ​six​ ​inches​ ​soft​ ​to eight​ ​hard.

"That's​ ​my​ ​little​ ​snowflake,"​ ​Tyler​ ​encouraged.​ ​​​"You​ ​take​ ​care​ ​of​ ​me​ ​and​ ​I won't​ ​have​ ​to​ ​do​ ​nothing​ ​bad​ ​to​ ​you.​ ​​​Show​ ​me​ ​you​ ​want​ ​to​ ​be​ ​a​ ​good sissy.​ ​​​Let​ ​the​ ​other​ ​brothers​ ​know​ ​that​ ​you're​ ​the​ ​kind​ ​that​ ​satisfies."

Dylan​ ​got​ ​his​ ​secondhand​ ​into​ ​the​ ​action,​ ​using​ ​it​ ​to​ ​hold​ ​and​ ​manipulate the​ ​knob​ ​while​ ​he​ ​continued​ ​to​ ​stroke​ ​the​ ​thick​ ​shaft.​ ​​​Tyler​ ​hummed​ ​a​ ​few tuneless​ ​bars​ ​under​ ​his​ ​breath.​ ​​​He​ ​told​ ​Dylan​ ​to​ ​take​ ​his​ ​time​ ​and​ ​that​ ​they had​ ​all​ ​night​ ​if​ ​they​ ​needed​ ​it.​ ​​​The​ ​kneeling​ ​young​ ​man​ ​sniffled​ ​and​ ​bit​ ​his lips.​ ​​​His​ ​new​ ​rationalization​ ​was​ ​that​ ​they​ ​just​ ​wanted​ ​to​ ​prove​ ​how​ ​much they​ ​could​ ​control​ ​him.​ ​​​It​ ​was​ ​something​ ​they​ ​needed,​ ​to​ ​feed​ ​their​ ​egos. Fine.​ ​​​He​ ​would​ ​submit​ ​to​ ​this​ ​and​ ​it​ ​would​ ​let​ ​them​ ​feel​ ​victorious.​ ​​​After that​ ​he​ ​could​ ​put​ ​all​ ​these​ ​indignities​ ​behind​ ​him.​ ​​​He​ ​kept​ ​working​ ​on​ ​the heavy​ ​organ,​ ​his​ ​fingers​ ​stretched​ ​around​ ​it,​ ​the​ ​contrast​ ​between​ ​his​ ​pale skin​ ​and​ ​the​ ​darker​ ​shades​ ​of​ ​Tyler's​ ​body​ ​so​ ​vivid.

"There​ ​you​ ​go,"​ ​Tyler​ ​said​ ​between​ ​deep​ ​breaths.​ ​​​"You​ ​got​ ​me​ ​right​ ​on​ ​the edge,​ ​girl.​ ​​​Now​ ​take​ ​me​ ​the​ ​rest​ ​of​ ​the​ ​way."

The​ ​way​ ​Dylan​ ​was​ ​positioned,​ ​if​ ​Tyler​ ​shot​ ​now,​ ​it​ ​was​ ​going​ ​to​ ​get​ ​all over​ ​Dylan's​ ​face​ ​and​ ​the​ ​front​ ​of​ ​the​ ​dress.​ ​​​He​ ​started​ ​trying​ ​to​ ​lean​ ​to​ ​the side​ ​but​ ​Javon​ ​saw​ ​what​ ​he​ ​was​ ​doing​ ​and​ ​understood​ ​why.

"Hey,​ ​sissy,"​ ​Javon​ ​told​ ​him.​ ​​​"Watch​ ​your​ ​posture.​ ​​​Get​ ​that​ ​back​ ​straight. You​ ​don't​ ​want​ ​that​ ​sexy​ ​dress​ ​to​ ​get​ ​all​ ​scrunched​ ​up."

When​ ​Dylan​ ​did​ ​as​ ​he​ ​was​ ​told,​ ​it​ ​put​ ​him​ ​back​ ​in​ ​the​ ​line​ ​of​ ​fire.​ ​​​Tyler grunted​ ​and​ ​his​ ​cock​ ​spurted.​ ​​​A​ ​gob​ ​of​ ​white​ ​cream​ ​caught​ ​Dylan​ ​in​ ​the cheek.​ ​​​The​ ​next​ ​one​ ​struck​ ​him​ ​in​ ​the​ ​chin.​ ​​​And​ ​the​ ​third​ ​landed​ ​on​ ​the formerly​ ​clean​ ​bodice​ ​of​ ​his​ ​dress.​ ​​​Tyler​ ​took​ ​half​ ​a​ ​minute​ ​to​ ​relax​ ​after his​ ​burst​ ​of​ ​pleasure.​ ​​​He​ ​seized​ ​Dylan's​ ​arm​ ​and​ ​brought​ ​it​ ​up​ ​so​ ​he​ ​could wipe​ ​the​ ​end​ ​of​ ​his​ ​cock​ ​on​ ​the​ ​sleeve.​ ​​​He​ ​took​ ​some​ ​pictures​ ​of​ ​Dylan's messy​ ​face​ ​and​ ​reminded​ ​the​ ​others​ ​to​ ​get​ ​shots.

Tyler​ ​said,​ ​"Next",​ ​and​ ​another​ ​of​ ​Javon's​ ​off-campus​ ​friends​ ​stepped​ ​in.

This​ ​one​ ​told​ ​Dylan​ ​he​ ​wanted​ ​his​ ​balls​ ​massaged​ ​and​ ​that,​ ​if​ ​he​ ​did​ ​it​ ​too hard,​ ​he​ ​would​ ​get​ ​his​ ​own​ ​balls​ ​treated​ ​in​ ​ways​ ​he​ ​wouldn't​ ​enjoy.​ ​​​The sufferer's​ ​knees​ ​were​ ​getting​ ​sore.​ ​​​He​ ​wanted​ ​to​ ​wipe​ ​off​ ​his​ ​face​ ​but​ ​was afraid​ ​of​ ​angering​ ​his​ ​captors.​ ​​​Besides,​ ​he​ ​didn't​ ​want​ ​to​ ​use​ ​his​ ​sleeve and​ ​get​ ​the​ ​dress​ ​even​ ​dirtier.​ ​​​The​ ​standing​ ​figure​ ​took​ ​several​ ​pictures while​ ​he​ ​was​ ​being​ ​stroked.​ ​​​This​ ​time​ ​was​ ​a​ ​lot​ ​like​ ​before​ ​and​ ​a​ ​load​ ​was fired​ ​against​ ​Dylan's​ ​closed​ ​mouth,​ ​chest,​ ​and​ ​into​ ​his​ ​lap.​ ​​​It​ ​went​ ​on​ ​like that.​ ​​​The​ ​third​ ​guy​ ​wanted​ ​his​ ​cock​ ​talked​ ​to,​ ​for​ ​Dylan​ ​to​ ​use​ ​a​ ​lisping voice​ ​to​ ​tell​ ​the​ ​long​ ​member​ ​how​ ​much​ ​he​ ​loved​ ​fondling​ ​it.​ ​​​That​ ​ended with​ ​the​ ​cock's​ ​owner​ ​groaning​ ​something​ ​about​ ​busting​ ​a​ ​nut​ ​and​ ​then suiting​ ​his​ ​actions​ ​to​ ​the​ ​words.​ ​​​Dylan​ ​was​ ​beginning​ ​to​ ​feel​ ​like​ ​he​ ​was going​ ​to​ ​be​ ​soaked​ ​through.​ ​​​In​ ​fact,​ ​he​ ​could​ ​feel​ ​dampness​ ​seeping through​ ​the​ ​fabric​ ​in​ ​a​ ​few​ ​spots.

The​ ​only​ ​Black​ ​man​ ​left​ ​unserved​ ​was​ ​Javon.​ ​​​But​ ​he​ ​wouldn't​ ​want​ ​to​ ​be hand-pumped​ ​because​ ​he​ ​was​ ​dating​ ​Julia.​ ​​​Having​ ​sex​ ​with​ ​Dylan's dream​ ​girl.​ ​​​And​ ​from​ ​all​ ​evidence,​ ​emptying​ ​his​ ​balls​ ​frequently​ ​with​ ​her willing​ ​participation.​ ​​​Yet​ ​Dylan's​ ​initial​ ​assumption​ ​was​ ​wrong.​ ​​​Javon​ ​did want​ ​his​ ​impressive​ ​meat​ ​manipulated.​ ​​​He​ ​chuckled​ ​as​ ​Dylan​ ​got​ ​it​ ​out​ ​of his​ ​pants​ ​and​ ​began​ ​stroking​ ​it,​ ​leading​ ​to​ ​an​ ​engorgement​ ​that​ ​made​ ​it​ ​the largest​ ​one​ ​yet.​ ​​​With​ ​his​ ​thumbs​ ​on​ ​its​ ​sensitive​ ​underside​ ​and​ ​his fingertips​ ​on​ ​its​ ​top,​ ​Dylan​ ​performed​ ​unhurried,​ ​two-handed​ ​maneuvers. Javon​ ​grinned​ ​down​ ​at​ ​him,​ ​as​ ​if​ ​he​ ​was​ ​gloating​ ​at​ ​both​ ​the​ ​white​ ​guy's helplessness​ ​and​ ​the​ ​fact​ ​that​ ​Javon​ ​had​

​taken​ ​the​ ​object​ ​of​ ​his​ ​longing away​ ​from​ ​him.​ ​​​As​ ​clear​ ​fluid​ ​appeared​ ​at​ ​the​ ​tip​ ​of​ ​Javon's​ ​penis,​ ​Dylan began​ ​to​ ​quietly​ ​sob.

The​ ​big​ ​man​ ​kept​ ​him​ ​at​ ​it​ ​for​ ​nearly​ ​a​ ​half​ ​hour,​ ​while​ ​the​ ​others​ ​drank beer​ ​and​ ​ate​ ​pretzels.​ ​​​They​ ​even​ ​handed​ ​their​ ​leader​ ​a​ ​can​ ​that​ ​he​ ​took occasional​ ​swigs​ ​from,​ ​as​ ​Dylan​ ​submissively​ ​tended​ ​to​ ​his​ ​rampant​ ​organ. At​ ​last​ ​signs​ ​appeared​ ​that​ ​Javon​ ​was​ ​about​ ​to​ ​relinquish​ ​control​ ​to​ ​his urges.​ ​​​Dylan​ ​dreaded​ ​having​ ​his​ ​features​ ​spattered​ ​with​ ​semen​ ​one​ ​more time.​ ​​​He​ ​subtly​ ​tried​ ​to​ ​angle​ ​that​ ​massive​ ​tool​ ​lower​ ​so​ ​its​ ​output​ ​would​ ​all land​ ​on​ ​the​ ​already​ ​messy​ ​dress.​ ​​​But​ ​Javon​ ​saw​ ​what​ ​he​ ​was​ ​doing​ ​and ordered​ ​him​ ​to​ ​aim​ ​it​ ​straight​ ​at​ ​his​ ​own​ ​face.​ ​​​Javon​ ​felt​ ​hot​ ​tears​ ​rolling down​ ​his​ ​warm​ ​cheeks.​ ​​​He​ ​gave​ ​three​ ​more​ ​pumps​ ​and​ ​the​ ​well-primed prick​ ​fired​ ​point​ ​blank​ ​at​ ​his​ ​eyes,​ ​nose​ ​and​ ​mouth.​ ​​​He​ ​got​ ​the​ ​full​ ​amount on​ ​his​ ​writhing​ ​face.​ ​​​There​ ​was​ ​so​ ​much​ ​that​ ​it​ ​ran​ ​down​ ​and​ ​dripped​ ​from his​ ​chin.​ ​​​His​ ​nose​ ​began​ ​to​ ​run.​ ​​​He​ ​blinked​ ​cream​ ​out​ ​of​ ​his​ ​right​ ​eye.

Javon​ ​laughed.​ ​​​"I​ ​seen​ ​you​ ​take​ ​care​ ​of​ ​your​ ​skin​ ​with​ ​that​ ​crap​ ​you​ ​sneak onto​ ​it​ ​during​ ​rehearsals.​ ​​​Some​ ​expensive​ ​girl-type​ ​product.​ ​​​Well,​ ​now you​ ​got​ ​a​ ​full​ ​facial,​ ​and​ ​it​ ​didn't​ ​cost​ ​you​ ​a​ ​thing.​ ​​​How​ ​about​ ​you​ ​thank​ ​me for​ ​that."

"I...​ ​yes,​ ​Sir.​ ​​​Thank​ ​you,​ ​Javon.​ ​​​Thank​ ​you​ ​for​ ​my...​ ​free​ ​facial." "Hey,​ ​no​ ​problem,​ ​buddy.​ ​​​What​ ​are​ ​friends​ ​for?"

That​ ​set​ ​off​ ​more​ ​laughter​ ​from​ ​the​ ​watchers.​ ​​​Javon​ ​made​ ​Dylan​ ​began​ ​to frig​ ​himself.​ ​​​Even​ ​though​ ​his​ ​mind​ ​was​ ​in​ ​turmoil,​ ​the​ ​white​ ​guy​ ​was​ ​hard in​ ​record​ ​time.​ ​​​That​ ​triggered​ ​more​ ​taunts​ ​about​ ​his​ ​lack​ ​of​ ​size.​ ​​​They made​ ​him​ ​undo​ ​the​ ​front​ ​of​ ​the​ ​dress​ ​and​ ​bare​ ​his​ ​narrow,​ ​now​ ​hairless chest,​ ​so​ ​he​ ​could​ ​finger​ ​his​ ​nipples.​ ​​​That​ ​got​ ​him​ ​even​ ​more​ ​excited​ ​and​ ​it was​ ​obvious​ ​that​ ​he​ ​didn't​ ​have​ ​enough​ ​self​ ​control​ ​to​ ​contain​ ​himself​ ​much longer.​ ​​​His​ ​little​ ​dick​ ​squirted​ ​a​ ​line​ ​of​ ​spunk​ ​across​ ​the​ ​floor,​ ​though​ ​much less​ ​than​ ​what​ ​any​ ​of​ ​the​ ​others​ ​had​ ​produced.​ ​​​More​ ​pictures​ ​were​ ​taken as​ ​Dylan​ ​was​ ​made​ ​to​ ​smile​ ​as​ ​if​ ​he​ ​was​ ​happy​ ​with​ ​what​ ​had​ ​just happened.

At​ ​last​ ​Javon​ ​said,​ ​"Now​ ​look​ ​at​ ​that​ ​mess​ ​you​ ​got​ ​on​ ​our​ ​clean​ ​floor. That's​ ​got​ ​to​ ​be​ ​wiped​ ​up.​ ​​​Do​ ​you​ ​want​ ​to​ ​do​ ​it​ ​with​ ​that​ ​dress?​ ​​​Or​ ​with your​ ​tongue?"

The​ ​thought​ ​of​ ​getting​ ​semen​ ​on​ ​his​ ​tongue​ ​made​ ​him​ ​nauseous.​ ​​​He grabbed​ ​the​ ​hem​ ​of​ ​the​ ​dress​ ​and​ ​began​ ​dabbing​ ​up​ ​the​ ​string​ ​of​ ​sperm​ ​in front​ ​of​ ​him,​ ​at​ ​the​ ​same​ ​time​ ​picking​ ​up​ ​some​ ​of​ ​the​ ​accumulated​ ​filth​ ​on what​ ​Javon​ ​had​ ​intentionally​ ​misrepresented​ ​as​ ​the​ ​'clean​ ​floor'.​ ​​​When​ ​he was​ ​done,​ ​Dylan​ ​looked​ ​up​ ​at​ ​the​ ​man​ ​who​ ​had​ ​so​ ​easily​ ​mastered​ ​him.

"I...​ ​hope​ ​I​ ​did​ ​everything...​ ​right,"​ ​he​ ​choked​ ​out.​ ​​​"And​ ​I'm​ ​glad​ ​I​ ​was​ ​able to​ ​cancel​ ​out​ ​what​ ​I​ ​did​ ​wrong​ ​by...​ ​doing​ ​all​ ​this."

"Cancel?​ ​​​What​ ​cancel?"
"Well,​ ​I​ ​mean,​ ​didn't​ ​this​ ​make​ ​up​ ​for​ ​me​ ​sort-of-accidently​

​seeing​ ​you​ ​and Julia​ ​while​ ​you...​ ​made​ ​out?"

"No,"​ ​Javon​ ​told​ ​him​ ​bluntly.​ ​​​"It​ ​did​ ​not.​ ​​​You​ ​still​ ​got​ ​repayments​ ​to​ ​make, white​ ​bread.​ ​​​So​ ​be​ ​back​ ​here​ ​tomorrow​ ​at​ ​the​ ​same​ ​sissy​ ​time."

"But​ ​will​ ​tomorrow​ ​be​ ​the​ ​end?"

"Not​ ​damn​ ​likely.​ ​​​It's​ ​like​ ​the​ ​Bard​ ​himself​ ​said...​ ​'Tomorrow​ ​and​ ​tomorrow and​ ​tomorrow'.​ ​​​So​ ​get​ ​another​ ​of​ ​them​ ​old-time-tramp​ ​dresses​ ​and​ ​we'll see​ ​what​ ​we​ ​feel​ ​like​ ​doing​ ​when​ ​you​ ​get​ ​here."

The​ ​mental​ ​torture​ ​Dylan​ ​went​ ​through​ ​after​ ​that​ ​was​ ​nearly​ ​unbearable. He​ ​was​ ​trapped.​ ​​​Reduced​ ​to​ ​a​ ​living​ ​sex​ ​toy​ ​for​ ​those​ ​four​ ​Black overseers.​ ​​​How​ ​was​ ​he​ ​ever​ ​going​ ​to​ ​escape?​ ​​​The​ ​dress​ ​he​ ​had​ ​worn was​ ​so​ ​messed​ ​up,​ ​especially​ ​after​ ​using​ ​it​ ​to​ ​wipe​ ​the​

​floor,​ ​that​ ​he​ ​had​ ​to take​ ​it​ ​back​ ​to​ ​his​ ​place​ ​until​ ​he​ ​could​ ​figure​ ​out​ ​how​ ​he​ ​would​ ​get​ ​it​ ​and the​ ​others​ ​properly​ ​cleaned.​ ​​​The​ ​next​ ​day​ ​he​ ​stole​ ​another​ ​and​ ​took​ ​it​ ​to the​ ​gym.​ ​​​He​ ​stood​ ​outside,​ ​a​ ​nervous​ ​wreck,​ ​while​ ​waiting​ ​for​ ​eight​ ​o'clock to​ ​arrive.​ ​​​When​ ​it​ ​got​ ​there​ ​he​ ​went​ ​in​ ​unhappily,​ ​fearing​ ​he​ ​would​ ​have​ ​to give​ ​more​ ​'handys',​ ​as​ ​he​ ​had​ ​heard​ ​them​ ​refer​ ​to​ ​his​ ​manual​ ​sex​ ​efforts.

When​ ​he​ ​got​ ​inside​ ​the​ ​locker​ ​room​ ​they​ ​had​ ​brought​ ​four​ ​chairs​ ​from somewhere.​ ​​​The​ ​guys​ ​were​ ​all​ ​sitting​ ​in​ ​them​ ​--​ ​and​ ​they​ ​were​ ​naked,​ ​their long​ ​relaxed​ ​cocks​ ​fully​ ​on​ ​display.​ ​​​Dylan​ ​got​ ​a​ ​bad​ ​feeling​ ​about​ ​his situation.​ ​​​Javon​ ​casually​ ​told​ ​him​ ​to​ ​undress​ ​and​ ​get​ ​into​ ​his​ ​new​ ​sissy dress.​ ​​​He​ ​also​ ​wanted​ ​his​ ​phone​ ​and​ ​the​ ​password​​to​​his​​homepage,​​aswell​​as​​his​​credit​​cards.​​​​Once​​their​ ​boy​ ​toy​ ​had​ ​stripped​ ​and​ ​then​ ​dressed, they​ ​made​ ​him​ ​parade​ ​around​ ​and​ ​kneel​ ​in​ ​front​ ​of​ ​each​ ​of​ ​them,​ ​to​ ​kiss their​ ​feet.​ ​​​It​ ​was​ ​incredibly​ ​upsetting​ ​but​ ​the​ ​most​ ​worrisome​ ​part​ ​was​ ​that Dylan​ ​kept​ ​having​ ​sexual​ ​stirrings​ ​all​ ​through​ ​his​ ​body.​ ​​​Why​ ​was​ ​that happening?​ ​​​He​ ​didn't​ ​want​ ​any​ ​of​ ​this​ ​to​ ​be​ ​occurring.

When​ ​they​ ​made​ ​him​ ​raise​ ​the​ ​front​ ​of​ ​his​ ​dress​ ​and​ ​pin​ ​it​ ​up,​ ​he​ ​was crushingly​ ​shamed​ ​to​ ​have​ ​them​ ​witness​ ​his​ ​arousal.​ ​​​It​ ​set​ ​off​ ​a​ ​diss-storm of​ ​insults​ ​and​ ​nasty​ ​remarks​ ​about​ ​his​ ​sexuality.​ ​​​Tyler​ ​had​ ​him​ ​pull​ ​up​ ​his skirts​ ​in​ ​the​ ​back​ ​and​ ​show​ ​off​ ​his​ ​smooth​ ​bottom.​ ​​​He​ ​had​ ​to​ ​put​ ​himself before​ ​each​ ​guy​ ​so​ ​they​ ​could​ ​cop​ ​a​ ​few​ ​feels​ ​and​ ​talk​ ​about​ ​how​ ​it​ ​was just​ ​like​ ​touching​ ​a​ ​girl.​ ​​​He​ ​even​ ​had​ ​to​ ​sit​ ​on​ ​the​ ​lap​ ​of​ ​the​ ​biggest​ ​of them,​ ​named​

​Able,​ ​who​ ​also​ ​had​ ​the​ ​most​ ​muscular​ ​physique.​ ​​​On​ ​Able's lap,​ ​facing​ ​outward,​ ​Dylan​ ​had​ ​to​ ​reach​ ​between​ ​his​ ​own​ ​legs​ ​to​ ​fondle​ ​a huge​ ​ebony​ ​cock.​ ​​​Soon​ ​it​ ​was​ ​standing,​ ​thrusting​ ​up​ ​between​ ​the​ ​white boy's​ ​hairless​ ​thighs.

"Day-am,"​ ​Tyler​ ​marveled.​ ​​​"Our​ ​Miss​ ​Pinky​ ​finally​ ​got​ ​a​ ​real​ ​cock​ ​between her​ ​legs.​ ​​​It​ ​just​ ​ain't​ ​color-coordinated​ ​with​ ​the​ ​rest​ ​of​ ​her."

Dylan​ ​had​ ​to​ ​lightly​ ​stroke​ ​Able's​ ​superior​ ​cock​ ​and​ ​then​ ​bring​ ​his​ ​thighs together​ ​so​ ​they​ ​were​ ​holding​ ​that​ ​impressive​ ​piece​ ​of​ ​man​ ​meat​ ​between them.​ ​​​Able​ ​made​ ​him​ ​move​ ​his​ ​thighs​ ​to​ ​increase​ ​the​ ​stimulation.​ ​​​After the​ ​Black​ ​man​ ​was​ ​highly​ ​aroused,​ ​he​ ​ordered​ ​Dylan​ ​off​ ​his​ ​lap.

"Just​ ​you​ ​get​ ​down​ ​there​ ​on​ ​your​ ​knees,​ ​lily​ ​white."
"Y...​ ​yes,​ ​Sir,"​ ​Dylan​ ​said.​ ​​​Once​ ​he​ ​was​ ​in​ ​position​ ​he​ ​began​ ​to​ ​run​

​his
hands​ ​up​ ​and​ ​down​ ​the​ ​pole​ ​without​ ​being​ ​told​ ​to.

Able​ ​said,​ ​"That's​ ​nice,​ ​but​ ​rubbing​ ​us​ ​off​ ​was​ ​yesterday.​ ​​​Today​ ​you​ ​start

in​ ​with​ ​sissy​ ​sucking."
"I​ ​can't​ ​do​ ​that,"​ ​Dylan​ ​insisted.​ ​​​"I'm​ ​not​ ​gay."

"Maybe​ ​you​ ​ain't​ ​gay,​ ​but​ ​you​ ​sure​ ​are​ ​a​ ​sissy.​ ​​​Those​ ​hand-jobs​ ​you​ ​gave us​ ​sure​ ​weren't​ ​something​ ​a​ ​straight​ ​guy​ ​would​ ​do.​ ​​​So​ ​don't​ ​get​ ​all fussy-picky​ ​now.​ ​​​You​ ​already​ ​had​ ​your​ ​hands​ ​on​ ​me,​ ​now​ ​give​ ​a​ ​few​ ​licks and​ ​I​ ​know​ ​you'll​ ​figure​ ​out​ ​the​ ​rest​ ​real​ ​quick."

"Yeah,"​ ​seconded​ ​Tyler.​ ​​​"Sissy​ ​knows​ ​what​ ​to​ ​do​ ​with​ ​a​ ​cock​ ​like​ ​a​ ​dog knows​ ​what​ ​to​ ​do​ ​with​ ​a​ ​bone.​ ​​​It's​ ​in​ ​your​ ​blood,​ ​pansy."

Dylan​ ​ran​ ​his​ ​tongue​ ​up​ ​the​ ​underside​ ​of​ ​Able's​ ​massive​ ​weapon.​ ​​​He capped​ ​the​ ​knob​ ​with​ ​his​ ​mouth​ ​and​ ​fastened​ ​his​ ​lips​ ​around​ ​it.​ ​​​When​ ​he sucked,​ ​the​ ​seated​ ​man​ ​made​ ​an​ ​approving​ ​sound.​ ​​​Dylan​ ​took​ ​in​ ​the​ ​next few​ ​inches​ ​but​ ​that​ ​was​ ​his​ ​limit.​ ​​​He​ ​used​ ​his​ ​hands​ ​on​ ​the​ ​remainder​ ​of​ ​it, remembering​ ​from​ ​that​ ​night​ ​before​ ​that​ ​they​ ​liked​ ​to​ ​have​ ​their​ ​scrotums lightly​ ​handled​ ​too.​ ​​​Pictures​ ​were​ ​taken​ ​of​ ​him​ ​giving​ ​his​ ​first​ ​head.​ ​​​OMG, if​ ​anyone​ ​ever​ ​saw​ ​those​ ​he​ ​would​ ​be​ ​ruined.​ ​​​Now,​ ​more​ ​than​ ​ever,​ ​he had​ ​to​ ​keep​ ​these​ ​four​ ​happy,​ ​no​ ​matter​ ​what​ ​it​ ​took.​ ​​​Able​ ​kept​ ​him​ ​at​ ​it​ ​for another​ ​ten​ ​minutes​ ​before​ ​launching​ ​a​ ​load​ ​into​ ​his​ ​mouth.​ ​​​Dylan​ ​gagged and​ ​thick​ ​semen​ ​leaked​ ​out​ ​around​ ​his​

​wide-stretched​ ​lips.​ ​​​It​ ​ran​ ​down​ ​his chin​ ​and​ ​he​ ​knew​ ​another​ ​dress​ ​was​ ​getting​ ​filthy.

As​ ​he​ ​swallowed​ ​as​ ​much​ ​as​ ​he​ ​could,​ ​he​ ​felt​ ​queasy.​ ​​​The​ ​reality​ ​of having​ ​sperm​ ​in​ ​his​ ​stomach​ ​made​ ​him​ ​feel​ ​used.​ ​​​He​ ​thought​ ​of​ ​the​ ​terms 'cum​ ​dump'​ ​and​ ​'jiz​ ​jar',​ ​as​ ​they​ ​were​ ​applied​ ​to​ ​cheap​ ​girls.​ ​​​He​ ​was permitted​ ​to​ ​take​ ​his​ ​mouth​ ​off​ ​Able's​ ​cock,​ ​but​ ​the​ ​next​ ​guy​ ​was​ ​already calling​ ​to​ ​him​ ​for​ ​similar​ ​service.​ ​​​Able​ ​got​ ​hold​ ​of​ ​Dylan's​ ​hair​ ​and​ ​kept​ ​him where​ ​he​ ​was​ ​for​ ​an​ ​extra​ ​half​ ​minute,​ ​long​ ​enough​ ​for​ ​the​ ​Black​ ​man​ ​to milk​ ​out​ ​a​ ​final​ ​dollop​ ​of​ ​cream​ ​into​ ​Dylan's​ ​auburn​ ​locks.​ ​​​Then​ ​the​ ​oral slave​ ​crawled​ ​to​ ​the​ ​impatient​ ​second​ ​guy.​ ​​​He​ ​had​ ​to​ ​pleasure​ ​him​ ​and​ ​the one​ ​after.​ ​​​His​ ​stomach​ ​was​ ​rebelling​ ​from​ ​all​ ​the​ ​cum​ ​he​ ​swallowed.​ ​​​That left​ ​only​ ​Javon,​ ​who​ ​still​ ​had​ ​Dylan's​ ​phone.

The​ ​Black​ ​man​ ​said,​ ​"I​ ​did​ ​you​ ​some​ ​favors.​ ​​​Took​ ​some​ ​really​ ​flattering shots​ ​of​ ​you​ ​with​ ​cocks​ ​in​ ​your​ ​mouth,​ ​so​ ​now​ ​you​ ​can​ ​look​ ​at​ ​them whenever​ ​you​ ​want.​ ​​​Feel​ ​free​ ​to​ ​tug​ ​on​ ​your​ ​mini-dick​ ​while​ ​you're​ ​drooling over​ ​them​ ​and​ ​reliving​ ​pleasant​ ​memories."​ ​​​He​ ​laughed.​ ​​​"And​ ​I​ ​used​ ​your credit​ ​card​ ​to​ ​sign​ ​you​ ​up​ ​for​ ​a​ ​few​ ​web​ ​sites.​ ​​​After​ ​you​ ​get​ ​out​ ​of​ ​here​ ​I want​ ​you​ ​to​ ​go​ ​to​ ​them​ ​and​ ​check​ ​out​ ​what​ ​you​ ​find.​ ​​​It's​ ​all​ ​stuff​ ​a​ ​sissy​ ​like you​ ​will​ ​get​ ​off​ ​on."​ ​​​He​ ​looked​ ​down​ ​at​ ​the​ ​kneeling​ ​student​ ​in​ ​a​ ​dress. When​ ​Dylan​ ​gave​ ​him​ ​a​ ​meek​ ​nod​ ​of​ ​acceptance,​ ​Javon​ ​went​ ​on,​ ​"And now​ ​you're​ ​going​ ​to​ ​do​ ​me​ ​with​ ​that​ ​pretty​ ​mouth.​ ​​​But​ ​look​ ​here."​ ​​​He​ ​took something​ ​from​ ​the​ ​floor​ ​next​ ​to​ ​his​ ​chair.​ ​​​"Julia's​

​lipstick.​ ​​​She​ ​didn't​ ​like this​ ​color​ ​but​ ​I​ ​thought​ ​it​ ​would​ ​look​ ​terrific​ ​on​ ​you.​ ​​​Get​ ​that​ ​cute​ ​face​ ​up where​ ​I​ ​can​ ​reach​ ​it."

Dylan​ ​complied​ ​and​ ​Javon​ ​gripped​ ​him​ ​by​ ​one​ ​ear,​ ​holding​ ​it​ ​firmly, avoiding​ ​the​ ​spunk​ ​that​ ​was​ ​everywhere​ ​else.​ ​​​He​ ​applied​ ​lipstick​ ​all​ ​over Dylan's​ ​mouth,​ ​not​ ​being​ ​careful​ ​about​ ​'coloring​ ​inside​ ​the​ ​lines'.​ ​​​Javon made​ ​a​ ​joke​ ​about​ ​the​ ​cosmetic​ ​being​ ​not​ ​only​ ​waterproof,​ ​but 'cream-proof'.​ ​​​Then​ ​he​ ​sent​ ​Dylan​ ​to​ ​one​ ​of​ ​the​ ​lockers​ ​and​ ​told​ ​him​ ​to open​ ​it.​ ​​​There​ ​was​ ​a​ ​mirror​ ​on​ ​the​ ​inside.​ ​​​​​What​ ​Dylan​ ​saw​ ​made​ ​him gasp.​ ​​​His​ ​mouth​ ​was​ ​a​ ​mess​ ​of​ ​bright​ ​magenta,​ ​looking​ ​like​ ​a​ ​child​ ​had scribbled​ ​on​ ​and​ ​around​ ​it.​ ​​​Javon​ ​summoned​ ​him​ ​and​ ​he​ ​got​ ​back​ ​down on​ ​his​ ​knees​ ​at​ ​the​ ​locker,​ ​then​ ​crawled​ ​back,​ ​figuring​ ​that​ ​was​ ​how​ ​he​ ​was expected​ ​to​ ​move.​ ​​​The​ ​Black​ ​leader​ ​had​ ​him​ ​sit​ ​up​ ​on​ ​his​ ​heels​ ​so​ ​he could​ ​write​ ​on​ ​Dylan's​ ​chest.​ ​​​First​ ​he​ ​circled​ ​his​ ​nipples​ ​with​ ​lipstick​ ​and then​ ​he​ ​wrote​ ​something.​ ​​​He​ ​made​ ​the​ ​white​ ​boy​ ​look​ ​down​ ​and​ ​decipher the​ ​letters​ ​from​ ​his​ ​upside​ ​down​ ​viewpoint.

"What's​ ​it​ ​say?"​ ​Javon​ ​demanded.
"It​ ​says,"​ ​Dylan​ ​answered​ ​slowly,​ ​full​ ​of​ ​shame,​ ​"pussy​ ​mouth."

"Right.​ ​​​Mouth​ ​like​ ​a​ ​pussy​ ​for​ ​Black​ ​cock.​ ​​​Say​ ​it,​ ​girl.​ ​​​Tell​ ​everybody that's​ ​what​ ​you've​ ​got."

"I've​ ​got​ ​a...​ ​pussy​ ​mouth...​ ​for​ ​Black​ ​cock."

"Sounds​ ​good,​ ​especially​ ​because​ ​you​ ​did​ ​it​ ​all​ ​whispery.​ ​​​And​ ​remember, snowflake,​ ​when​ ​you​ ​say​ ​'Black​ ​cock',​ ​you've​ ​said​ ​a​ ​mouthful."

That​ ​caused​ ​more​ ​laughter​ ​at​ ​Dylan's​ ​expense.​ ​​​Then​ ​Javon​ ​pointed toward​ ​his​ ​own​ ​fat​ ​cock.​ ​​​The​ ​kneeling​ ​young​ ​man​ ​understood​ ​and​ ​began to​ ​handle​ ​it,​ ​by​ ​then​ ​knowing​ ​what​ ​they​ ​wanted​ ​and​ ​how​ ​to​ ​achieve​ ​it.​ ​​​He coaxed​ ​it​ ​to​ ​full​ ​erection​ ​and​ ​then​ ​spent​ ​a​ ​few​ ​minutes​ ​adulating​ ​it​ ​with​ ​his mouth​ ​without​ ​putting​ ​it​ ​between​ ​his​ ​colored​ ​lips.​ ​​​Next​ ​he​ ​took​ ​the​ ​first​ ​four inches​ ​all​ ​at​ ​once,​ ​hoping​ ​the​ ​move​ ​would​ ​surprise​ ​and​ ​please​ ​Javon.​​​​Itwas​​important​​not​​to​​upset​​him.​​​​Dylan​​gave​​a​​dirty​ ​blowjob,​ ​purring​ ​and lapping​ ​and​ ​making​ ​wet​ ​sounds.​ ​​​Javon​ ​noted​ ​how​ ​eager​ ​his​ ​prey​ ​was​ ​to do​ ​a​ ​whorish​ ​job.​ ​​​He​ ​made​ ​Dylan​ ​draw​ ​it​ ​out​ ​for​ ​a​ ​while​ ​before​ ​allowing himself​ ​to​ ​firehose​ ​a​ ​heavy​ ​load​ ​down​ ​the​ ​smaller​ ​guy's​ ​throat.

"Not​ ​bad​ ​for​ ​a​ ​first-timer,"​ ​Javon​ ​concluded.​ ​​​"But​ ​don't​ ​worry.​ ​​​We'll​ ​keep letting​ ​you​ ​practice​ ​on​ ​us.​ ​​​Every​ ​night.​ ​​​And​ ​I​ ​don't​ ​want​ ​to​ ​call​ ​you​ ​by​ ​your boy​ ​name​ ​when​ ​you're​ ​acting​ ​so​ ​girly.​ ​​​How​ ​about​ ​we​ ​call​ ​you...​ ​Deena? Yeah,​ ​I​ ​like​ ​that.​ ​​​Deep​ ​throat​ ​Deena.​ ​​​Or​ ​you​ ​will​ ​be​ ​soon.​ ​​​With​ ​all​ ​that practice.​ ​​​And​ ​it​ ​looks​ ​like​ ​you​ ​got​ ​everybody's​ ​jazz​ ​on​ ​that​ ​dress.​ ​​​Better learn​ ​to​ ​swallow​

​more."​ ​​​He​ ​shook​ ​his​ ​head​ ​and​ ​chortled.​ ​​​"See​ ​you tomorrow,​ ​Deena.​ ​​​Parting​ ​is​ ​such​ ​sweet​ ​sissy​ ​sorrow."

When​ ​he​ ​got​ ​back​ ​to​ ​his​ ​place,​ ​Dylan​ ​put​ ​the​ ​dress​ ​on​ ​top​ ​of​ ​the​ ​previous one.​ ​​​He​ ​was​ ​so​ ​shaken​ ​up​ ​that​ ​he​ ​wasn't​ ​worrying​ ​about​ ​getting​ ​them​ ​in​ ​fit condition​ ​to​ ​return​ ​to​ ​the​ ​stock​ ​of​ ​costumes.​ ​​​And​ ​he​ ​would​ ​have​ ​to​ ​find another​ ​one​ ​for​ ​the​ ​next​ ​night.​ ​​​But​ ​he​ ​also​ ​remembered​ ​what​ ​Javon​ ​had said​ ​about​ ​using​ ​the​ ​credit​ ​card​ ​to​ ​buy​ ​something​ ​that​ ​would​ ​show​ ​up​ ​on his​ ​computer.​ ​​​Dreading​ ​what​ ​he​ ​might​ ​see,​ ​Dylan​ ​went​ ​on-line​ ​and​ ​sat there​ ​in​ ​his​ ​underwear,​ ​trying​ ​not​ ​to​ ​think​ ​about​ ​how​ ​he​ ​had​ ​to​ ​keep​ ​his body​ ​denuded​ ​of​ ​hair.​ ​​​It​ ​felt​ ​so​ ​feminine.​ ​​​He​ ​unconsciously​ ​ran​ ​his​ ​fingers over​ ​his​ ​satiny​ ​thighs​ ​as​ ​he​ ​checked​ ​his​ ​inbox.

There,​ ​right​ ​in​ ​the​ ​middle​ ​of​ ​the​ ​usual​ ​ads​ ​and​ ​notices​ ​and​ ​Friend​ ​Book posts,​ ​were​ ​several​ ​unfamiliar​ ​senders.​ ​​​They​ ​were​ ​SUBMISSIVE​ ​SISSIES, DADDIES​ ​AND​ ​WIMPS​ ​and​ ​BETAS​ ​IN​ ​​​BONDAGE.​ ​​​​​As​ ​soon​ ​as​ ​he opened​ ​the​ ​first​ ​one​ ​and​ ​started​ ​looking,​ ​he​ ​was​ ​horrified.​ ​​​Everything​ ​he saw​ ​involved​ ​strong​ ​Black​ ​mean​ ​and​ ​weak​ ​white​ ​guys,​ ​the​ ​latter​ ​group​ ​all presented​ ​in​ ​unmanly​ ​ways.​ ​​​The​ ​sissies​ ​were​ ​obviously​ ​in​ ​thrall​ ​to​ ​their Black​ ​Masters,​ ​as​ ​the​ ​big​ ​men​ ​were​ ​called.​ ​​​The​ ​white​ ​guys​ ​all​ ​had​ ​tiny dicks​ ​and​ ​the​ ​Black​ ​ones​ ​were​ ​all​ ​hung​ ​like​ ​stallions.​ ​​​The​ ​second​ ​site​ ​was more​ ​of​ ​the​ ​same,​ ​except​ ​that​ ​now,​ ​instead​ ​of​ ​just​ ​making​ ​the​ ​sissies pleasure​ ​them​ ​with​ ​their​ ​hands​ ​and​ ​mouths,​ ​they​ ​were​ ​making​ ​them​ ​lick boots,​ ​kiss​ ​jock​ ​straps,​ ​and​ ​nuzzle​ ​backsides.​ ​​​The​ ​last​ ​was​ ​even​ ​more extreme,​ ​with​ ​the​ ​white​ ​victims​ ​tied​ ​up,​

​strapped​ ​down,​ ​or​ ​in​ ​very​ ​restrictive bondage​ ​outfits​ ​--​ ​and​ ​being​ ​used​ ​by​ ​the​ ​powerful​ ​Black​ ​men​ ​as​ ​sexual playthings,​ ​even​ ​to​ ​the​ ​point​ ​of​ ​backdoor​ ​penetration.

In​ ​a​ ​near​ ​stupor,​ ​Dylan​ ​gazed​ ​at​ ​the​ ​images.​ ​​​He​ ​touched​ ​his​ ​smooth​ ​chest and​ ​belly​ ​and​ ​groin.​ ​​​His​ ​hand​ ​encountered​ ​his​ ​penis​ ​and​ ​he​ ​was​ ​unsettled to​ ​find​ ​it​ ​at​ ​full​ ​attention.​ ​​​His​ ​fingers​ ​closed​ ​around​ ​it​ ​and​ ​in​ ​his mesmerized​ ​state​ ​he​ ​gave​ ​himself​ ​a​ ​slow​ ​motion​ ​stroking.​ ​​​He​ ​really needed​ ​to​ ​finish.​ ​​​Just​ ​to​ ​relieve​ ​all​ ​the​ ​stress​ ​he​ ​was​ ​under.​ ​​​But​ ​he​ ​didn't want​ ​to.​ ​​​Not​ ​while​ ​looking​ ​at​ ​guys​ ​like​ ​himself​ ​worshipping​ ​the​ ​bodies​ ​of Black​ ​men​ ​like​ ​Javon​ ​and​ ​his​ ​buddies.​ ​​​He​ ​forced​ ​himself​ ​to​ ​leave​ ​the computer,​ ​though​ ​he​ ​didn't​ ​turn​ ​it​ ​off.​ ​​​For​ ​comfort,​ ​Dylan​ ​turned​ ​to​ ​those beloved​ ​dresses.​ ​​​He​ ​found​ ​one​ ​that​ ​wasn't​ ​as​ ​badly​ ​spotted​ ​with​ ​his​ ​spunk as​ ​the​ ​others​ ​and​ ​carried​ ​it​ ​to​ ​his​ ​bed.​ ​​​He​ ​lay​ ​there,​ ​curled​ ​into​ ​a​ ​fetal position,​ ​hugging​ ​it​ ​tightly.

Dylan​ ​was​ ​feeling​ ​more​ ​in​ ​control​ ​of​ ​circumstances​ ​until​ ​his​ ​eyes​ ​drifted​ ​to the​ ​computer​ ​screen.​ ​​​There​ ​was​ ​a​ ​picture​ ​of​ ​a​ ​small​ ​white​ ​guy​ ​kneeling alongside​ ​a​ ​muscular​ ​Black​ ​man,​ ​hugging​ ​his​ ​sinewy​ ​thigh,​ ​his​ ​lips​ ​pressed against​ ​the​ ​dark​ ​skin​ ​of​ ​a​ ​hip.​ ​​​Dylan​ ​groped​ ​under​ ​the​ ​dress​ ​and​ ​found​ ​his little​ ​pecker,​ ​which​ ​was​ ​still​ ​stiff.​ ​​​He​ ​wished​ ​it​ ​would​ ​just​ ​go​ ​limp,​ ​and​ ​that his​ ​urges​ ​would​ ​fade​ ​away.​ ​​​But​ ​that​ ​wasn't​ ​happening.​ ​​​The​ ​on-screen picture​ ​changed​ ​to​ ​something​ ​more​ ​explicit.​ ​​​He​ ​began​ ​to​ ​pump​ ​his​ ​hand, which​ ​the​ ​Black​ ​guys​ ​had​ ​called​ ​his​ ​hand-pussy.​ ​​​They​ ​had​ ​remarked​ ​on how​ ​soft​ ​it​ ​was​ ​and​ ​he​ ​couldn't​ ​deny​ ​it.​ ​​​He​ ​wanted​ ​to​

​close​ ​his​ ​eyes​ ​and think​ ​about​ ​Julia.​ ​​​She​ ​might​ ​be​ ​unattainable​ ​but​ ​he​ ​could​ ​still​ ​dream​ ​about her.​ ​​​Instead​ ​he​ ​continued​ ​staring​ ​at​ ​the​ ​compelling​ ​images​ ​on​ ​the computer.​ ​​​Now​ ​it​ ​was​ ​a​ ​sissy​ ​with​ ​his​ ​face​ ​wedged​ ​between​ ​the​ ​buttocks of​ ​a​ ​muscular​ ​stallion.​ ​​​It​ ​had​ ​been​ ​so​ ​wicked​ ​of​ ​Javon​ ​to​ ​spend​ ​Dylan's money​ ​to​ ​buy​ ​him​ ​interracial​ ​sissy​ ​porn.​ ​​​Still,​ ​that​ ​was​ ​already​ ​done​ ​and​ ​it wasn't​ ​worth​ ​the​ ​risk​ ​of​ ​upsetting​ ​Javon​ ​by​ ​trying​ ​to​ ​cancel​ ​it.​ ​​​Dylan attempted​ ​to​ ​call​ ​up​ ​Julia's​ ​face​ ​in​ ​his​ ​mind​ ​but​ ​instead​ ​saw​ ​himself​ ​in​ ​the place​ ​of​ ​the​ ​kneeling​ ​figure​ ​on​ ​the​ ​computer​ ​and​ ​Javon​ ​as​ ​the​ ​standing one.

"Please,​ ​no,"​ ​he​ ​murmured.​ ​​​"That's​ ​not​ ​what​ ​I​ ​want.​ ​​​I​ ​only​ ​want​ ​J...​ ​Jul... J...​ ​Ja...​ ​Java..."​ ​​​He​ ​sobbed​ ​loudly.​ ​​​"I​ ​don't​ ​know​ ​what​ ​I​ ​want."​ ​​​And​ ​with that​ ​he​ ​shot​ ​his​ ​meager​ ​load​ ​all​ ​over​ ​the​ ​dress,​ ​the​ ​one​ ​that​ ​had​ ​until​ ​then been​ ​the​ ​cleanest​ ​of​ ​his​ ​growing​ ​collection.

For​ ​the​ ​next​ ​week​ ​his​ ​nightly​ ​visits​ ​to​ ​the​ ​old​ ​gym's​ ​locker​ ​room​ ​involved giving​ ​hand​ ​jobs​ ​and​ ​improving​ ​his​ ​throating​ ​skills,​ ​along​ ​with​ ​plenty​ ​of lipstick​ ​that​ ​always​ ​got​ ​smeared.​ ​​​He​ ​defiled​ ​one​ ​dress​ ​after​ ​another.​ ​​​And then​ ​he​ ​got​ ​an​ ​additional​ ​unwelcome​ ​shock.​ ​​​When​ ​he​ ​arrived​ ​one​ ​evening, still​ ​trying​ ​to​ ​puzzle​ ​out​ ​how​ ​to​ ​reverse​ ​his​ ​ongoing​ ​emasculation,​ ​he​ ​found a​ ​mattress​ ​on​ ​the​ ​floor.

Javon​ ​told​ ​him​ ​without​ ​preamble,​ ​"Time​ ​to​ ​pop​ ​your​ ​cherry,​ ​Deena.​ ​​​Turn the​ ​rear​ ​exit​ ​into​ ​an​ ​entrance.​ ​​​But​ ​don't​ ​worry,​ ​we​ ​got​ ​plenty​ ​of​ ​lube."​ ​​​He laughed​ ​unpleasantly.​ ​​​"So​ ​get​ ​all​ ​naked​ ​like​ ​usual,​ ​and​ ​into​ ​that​ ​dress​ ​you got​ ​hidden​ ​in​ ​the​ ​plastic​ ​bag​ ​like​ ​always.​ ​​​I​ ​hope​ ​it's​ ​a​ ​good​ ​dress​ ​for​ ​this special​ ​occasion."

Without​ ​thinking,​ ​Dylan​ ​said,​ ​"The​ ​dress​ ​has​ ​a​ ​corset​ ​waist.​ ​​​It​ ​will​ ​make​ ​me look​ ​more​ ​like​ ​a​ ​girl.​ ​​​It's​ ​kind​ ​of​ ​uncomfortable​ ​but..."

What​ ​was​ ​he​ ​telling​ ​them?​ ​​​How​ ​would​ ​that​ ​sound​ ​to​ ​the​ ​rapacious slave-makers?​ ​​​Especially​ ​with​ ​him​ ​using​ ​such​ ​a​ ​feminine​ ​voice.​ ​​​He silenced​ ​himself​ ​while​ ​he​ ​stripped​ ​in​ ​front​ ​of​ ​them​ ​and​ ​got​ ​into​ ​the​ ​dress that​ ​was​ ​tight​ ​in​ ​the​ ​middle​ ​and​ ​billowed​ ​out​ ​below.​ ​​​They​ ​made​ ​him​ ​circle the​ ​mattress​ ​and​ ​then​ ​stand​ ​on​ ​it​ ​and​ ​do​ ​a​ ​slow​ ​twirl.​ ​​​There​ ​was​ ​enough padding​ ​sewn​ ​into​ ​the​ ​breast​ ​cups​ ​to​ ​give​ ​him​ ​the​ ​illusion​ ​of​ ​a​ ​modest​ ​bust. The​ ​room​ ​was​ ​still​ ​as​ ​he​ ​waited​ ​to​ ​find​ ​out​ ​what​ ​happened​ ​next.​ ​​​Javon came​ ​to​ ​him​ ​and​ ​pointed​ ​at​ ​the​ ​mattress.​ ​​​Dylan​ ​got​ ​into​ ​the​ ​familiar kneeling​ ​posture.

His​ ​Black​ ​Master,​ ​like​ ​one​ ​of​ ​those​ ​in​ ​the​ ​videos,​ ​told​ ​him,​ ​"Get​ ​that​ ​chin down​ ​and​ ​your​ ​cute​ ​ass​ ​up."

When​ ​that​ ​was​ ​done,​ ​Javon​ ​threw​ ​the​ ​skirt​ ​up​ ​in​ ​the​ ​back.​ ​​​The​ ​corset waist​ ​enhanced​ ​Dylan's​ ​figure​ ​but​ ​it​ ​was​ ​also​ ​squeezed​ ​him.​ ​​​The​ ​Black man​ ​got​ ​on​ ​his​ ​knees​ ​behind​ ​his​ ​target​ ​and​ ​Tyler​ ​tossed​ ​him​ ​a​ ​big​ ​bottle​ ​of lube.​ ​​​Javon​ ​caught​ ​it​ ​easily​ ​in​ ​his​ ​large​ ​hand.​ ​​​He​ ​rubbed​ ​his​ ​cock​ ​against Dylan's​ ​waiting​ ​ass​ ​to​ ​get​ ​himself​ ​hard.​ ​​​Then​ ​he​ ​lubed​ ​up.​ ​​​The​ ​thick business​ ​end​ ​of​ ​his​ ​member​ ​pressed​ ​against​ ​Dylan's​ ​pucker.​ ​​​The trembling​ ​white​ ​guy​ ​couldn't​ ​believe​ ​this​ ​was​ ​happening.​ ​​​It​ ​was​ ​too​ ​much. He​ ​might​ ​never​ ​recover​ ​his​ ​male​ ​identity​ ​if​ ​he​ ​was​ ​violated.​ ​​​Javon​ ​leaned into​ ​him​ ​and​ ​his​ ​knob​ ​was​ ​forced​ ​past​ ​Dylan's​ ​tightness.​ ​​​The​ ​recipient grunted​ ​and​ ​let​ ​out​ ​a​ ​long​ ​moan.​ ​​​Javon​ ​gave​ ​him​ ​time​ ​to​ ​get​ ​used​ ​to​ ​being stretched.

The​ ​Black​ ​penetrator​ ​said,​ ​"I​ ​don't​ ​do​ ​this​ ​to​ ​Julia.​ ​​​She​ ​don't​ ​want​ ​to​ ​be​ ​all stuffed​ ​back​ ​there​ ​with​ ​my​ ​Black​ ​jungle​ ​snake.​ ​​​Don't​ ​want​ ​to​ ​be​ ​all​ ​sore​ ​the next​ ​day.​ ​​​And​ ​definitely​ ​don't​ ​want​ ​to​ ​take​ ​a​ ​chance​ ​of​ ​getting​ ​hooked​ ​on​ ​it. You​ ​want​ ​to​ ​get​ ​hooked​ ​on​ ​it,​ ​Deena?"

"N...​ ​no,"​ ​he​ ​mewled.​ ​​​"No,​ ​Sir."

Javon​ ​got​ ​a​ ​hand​ ​between​ ​them​ ​and​ ​groped​ ​for​ ​Dylan's​ ​genitals.​ ​​​He​ ​felt them​ ​and​ ​wanted​ ​to​ ​know,​ ​"If​ ​you​ ​don't​ ​want​ ​your​ ​ass​ ​plugged​ ​with​ ​big Black​ ​cocks,​ ​then​ ​how​ ​come​ ​you're​ ​puny​ ​dick's​ ​all​ ​hard​ ​again?"

"I...​ ​don't​ ​know,"​ ​Dylan​ ​wailed​ ​miserably.​ ​​​"Please,​ ​don't​ ​make​ ​me​ ​want this."​ ​​​He​ ​sobbed.​ ​​​"Don't​ ​get​ ​me​ ​hooked​ ​on​ ​it."

"Ain't​ ​me​ ​making​ ​you​ ​want​ ​it,​ ​girl.​ ​​​It's​ ​Deena​ ​making​ ​Dylan​ ​want​ ​what​ ​I got."

As​ ​if​ ​to​ ​drive​ ​home​ ​his​ ​point,​ ​he​ ​buried​ ​another​ ​two​ ​inches​ ​into​ ​his​ ​captive. Then​ ​he​ ​invaded​ ​him​ ​further​ ​and​ ​further,​ ​until​ ​he​ ​was​ ​in​ ​up​ ​to​ ​his​ ​weighty balls.​ ​​​As​ ​Dylan​ ​whimpered,​ ​Javon​ ​began​ ​an​ ​evenly​ ​paced​ ​in-out​ ​motion. He​ ​took​ ​long​ ​strokes​ ​to​ ​make​ ​sure​ ​Dylan​ ​knew​ ​he​ ​was​ ​being​ ​well​ ​and completely​ ​used.​ ​​​Javon's​ ​fingers​ ​dug​ ​into​ ​the​ ​softness​ ​of​ ​Dylan's​ ​hips.

The​ ​bigger​ ​man​ ​rode​ ​him​ ​steadily​ ​for​ ​over​ ​a​ ​half​ ​hour,​ ​wearing​ ​down​ ​the last​ ​of​ ​his​ ​resistance.​ ​​​He​ ​invited​ ​Dylan​ ​to​ ​push​ ​back​ ​against​ ​him,​ ​saying​ ​it would​ ​make​ ​everything​ ​easier.​ ​​​Either​ ​because​ ​he​ ​thought​ ​it​ ​would​ ​ease​ ​his suffering,​ ​or​ ​maybe​ ​because​ ​he​ ​was​ ​responding​ ​to​ ​being​ ​used​ ​that​ ​way, the​ ​white​ ​guy​ ​did​ ​begin​ ​to​ ​meet​ ​Javon's​ ​thrusts​ ​with​ ​his​ ​own​ ​backward shoves.​ ​​​That​ ​was​ ​what​ ​it​ ​took​ ​to​ ​drive​ ​the​ ​Black​ ​stud​ ​to​ ​an​ ​orgasm.​ ​​​He gripped​ ​Dylan​ ​even​ ​harder​ ​and,​ ​with​ ​three​ ​short​ ​hard​ ​jabs,​ ​was​ ​creaming inside​ ​him.

Having​ ​cum​ ​in​ ​his​ ​mouth​ ​and​ ​stomach​ ​was​ ​bad​ ​but​ ​this​ ​was​ ​so​ ​much worse.​ ​​​He​ ​had​ ​been​ ​taken​ ​in​ ​the​ ​most​ ​sissy-like​ ​way​ ​possible.​ ​​​And​ ​his betraying​ ​penis​ ​was​ ​still​ ​hard.​ ​​​Javon​ ​hunched​

​over​ ​him,​ ​descending​ ​from the​ ​heights​ ​of​ ​his​ ​climax.​ ​​​He​ ​withdrew​ ​slowly,​ ​a​ ​long​ ​strong​ ​of​ ​glistening spunk​ ​attached​ ​to​ ​his​ ​cock​ ​even​ ​after​ ​it​ ​was​ ​out.​ ​​​He​ ​wiped​ ​himself​ ​off​ ​on Dylan's​ ​buttocks​ ​and​ ​got​ ​up.

Javon​ ​said,​ ​"Sloppy​ ​seconds​ ​for​ ​whoever​ ​wants​ ​them,"​ ​and​ ​Tyler​ ​took​ ​the spot​ ​he​ ​had​ ​just​ ​vacated.

Dylan​ ​groaned​ ​in​ ​expectation​ ​of​ ​another​ ​rampant​ ​tool​ ​entering​ ​him.​ ​​​That was​ ​exactly​ ​what​ ​he​ ​got.​ ​​​The​ ​final​ ​two​ ​guys​ ​waited,​ ​beers​ ​in​ ​hand,​ ​for​ ​their turns.​ ​​​By​ ​the​ ​end​ ​there​ ​was​ ​spunk​ ​leaking​ ​out​ ​of​ ​his​ ​rear​ ​and​ ​getting​ ​on the​ ​mattress.​ ​​​After​ ​they​ ​were​ ​done​ ​they​ ​made​ ​him​ ​clean​ ​up​ ​as​ ​much​ ​as​ ​he could​ ​with​ ​his​ ​dress.​ ​​​He​ ​was​ ​left​ ​sore​ ​and​ ​beaten,​ ​lying​ ​on​ ​his​ ​side.

His​ ​Black​ ​Master​ ​announced,​ ​"Not​ ​too​ ​much​ ​longer​ ​now,​ ​Deena.​ ​​​Maybe another​ ​week.​ ​​​Then​ ​we'll​ ​be​ ​done​ ​with​ ​you.​ ​​​Your​ ​debt​ ​will​ ​be​ ​paid."

As​ ​stimulated​ ​and​ ​shaken​ ​up​ ​as​ ​he​ ​was,​ ​with​ ​visions​ ​of​ ​IR​ ​sissy​ ​porn dancing​ ​in​ ​his​ ​head,​ ​all​ ​Dylan​ ​could​ ​think​ ​of​ ​was​ ​grabbing​ ​his​ ​own​ ​dick​ ​and rubbing​ ​off​ ​a​ ​finish.​ ​​​But​ ​he​ ​didn't​ ​want​ ​them​ ​to​ ​see​ ​him​ ​display​ ​a​ ​lack​ ​of restraint.​ ​​​All​ ​he​ ​could​ ​think​ ​about​ ​was​ ​sex,​ ​except​ ​that​ ​now​ ​his​ ​thoughts centered​ ​on​ ​Black​ ​men​ ​and​ ​white​ ​sissies.​ ​​​He​ ​covered​ ​himself​ ​and struggled​ ​to​ ​where​ ​his​

​clothes​ ​were.​ ​​​Javon​ ​didn't​ ​like​ ​the​ ​effort​ ​he​ ​was seeing.​ ​​​It​ ​showed​ ​too​ ​much​ ​spine.​ ​​​It​ ​had​ ​been​ ​a​ ​while​ ​already​ ​since​ ​he had​ ​drilled​ ​that​ ​tight​ ​virgin​ ​tail.​ ​​​Watching​ ​the​ ​other​ ​guys​ ​nail​ ​Dylan​ ​had aroused​ ​him.​ ​​​He​ ​was​ ​capable​ ​of​ ​another​ ​go​ ​already.​ ​​​So​ ​he​ ​grabbed​ ​Dylan by​ ​his​ ​hips​ ​and​ ​dragged​ ​him​ ​back​ ​to​ ​the​ ​center​ ​of​ ​the​ ​mattress.​ ​​​He​ ​made the​ ​white​ ​guy​ ​take​ ​his​ ​dark,​ ​still​ ​unwashed​ ​cock​ ​and​ ​revive​ ​it​ ​with​ ​his hands.​ ​​​Then​ ​Javon​ ​got​ ​where​ ​he​ ​needed​ ​to​ ​be​ ​and​ ​put​ ​his​ ​battering​ ​ram against​ ​that​ ​overused​ ​entrance.

He​ ​called​ ​out,​ ​"Once​ ​more​ ​into​ ​the​ ​breach!"​ ​and​ ​planted​ ​himself​ ​in​ ​it​ ​all​ ​the way​ ​with​ ​one​ ​mighty​ ​effort,​ ​making​ ​Dylan​ ​wail​ ​and​ ​begin​ ​to​ ​cry.

After​ ​that​ ​was​ ​over​ ​they​ ​let​ ​him​ ​limp​ ​away.​ ​​​The​ ​promise​ ​of​ ​more​ ​of​ ​the same​ ​in​ ​less​ ​than​ ​24​ ​hours​ ​was​ ​almost​ ​unbearable.​ ​​​But​ ​Javon​ ​had​ ​also said​ ​there​ ​was​ ​only​ ​a​ ​week​ ​more​ ​of​ ​this​ ​nightmare.​ ​​​Dylan​ ​made​ ​a​ ​silent oath​ ​that​ ​he​ ​would​ ​get​ ​through​ ​it,​ ​if​ ​not​ ​for​ ​himself,​ ​then​ ​to​ ​honor​ ​Julia.​ ​​​He muttered​ ​her​ ​name​ ​and​ ​Javon​ ​didn't​ ​miss​ ​it.

For​ ​the​ ​rest​ ​of​ ​the​ ​week​ ​they​ ​used​ ​Dylan​ ​any​ ​and​ ​every​ ​way​ ​they​ ​pleased. He​ ​spent​ ​his​ ​time​ ​in​ ​class​ ​thinking​ ​about​ ​the​ ​night​ ​and​ ​trying​ ​to​ ​sort​ ​out​ ​his mixed​ ​up​ ​feelings​ ​about​ ​it​ ​all.​ ​​​After​ ​his​ ​visits​ ​to​ ​the​ ​locker​ ​room,​ ​he​ ​went back​ ​to​ ​his​ ​place​ ​and​ ​watched​ ​more​ ​porn,​ ​as​ ​ordered​ ​to​ ​by​ ​Javon.​ ​​​He​ ​was trying​ ​as​ ​hard​ ​as​ ​he​ ​could​

​not​ ​to​ ​become,​ ​as​ ​Javon​ ​had​ ​said,​ ​hooked​ ​on everything.​ ​​​Dylan​ ​just​ ​had​ ​to​ ​hold​ ​on​ ​a​ ​while​ ​longer.

The​ ​final​ ​evening​ ​arrived.​ ​​​Dylan​ ​went​ ​to​ ​the​ ​gym​ ​with​ ​another​ ​dress.​ ​​​This one​ ​had​ ​a​ ​much​ ​lower​ ​neckline.​ ​​​He​ ​had​ ​to​ ​start​ ​replacing​ ​them​ ​before​ ​their dwindling​ ​numbers​ ​were​ ​noticed.​ ​​​There​ ​were​ ​so​ ​many​ ​lying​ ​around​ ​at​ ​his place.​ ​​​The​ ​night​ ​before​ ​he​ ​had​ ​slept​ ​with​ ​three​ ​at​ ​once.​ ​​​As​ ​soon​ ​as​ ​he was​ ​changed​ ​into​ ​his​ ​dress,​ ​Javon​ ​surprised​ ​him.

"We​ ​got​ ​to​ ​celebrate,​ ​Deena.​ ​​​How​ ​about​ ​you​ ​have​ ​some​ ​wine?​ ​​​It'll​ ​make you​ ​feel​ ​better.​ ​​​Get​ ​you​ ​relaxed."

"Well,​ ​you've​ ​haven't​ ​been​ ​very​ ​nice​ ​to​ ​me​ ​and..."

Javon​ ​held​ ​up​ ​an​ ​interjecting​ ​finger​ ​and​ ​reminded​ ​him​ ​amiably,​ ​"We've​ ​just been​ ​trying​ ​to​ ​help​ ​you​ ​pay​ ​your​ ​debt,​ ​and​ ​let​ ​you​ ​get​ ​in​ ​touch​ ​with​ ​your feminine​ ​side.​ ​​​You​ ​know,​ ​sometimes​ ​you've​ ​got​ ​to​ ​be​ ​cruel​ ​to​ ​be​ ​kind,​ ​in the​ ​right​ ​measure.​ ​​​But​ ​no​ ​hard​ ​feelings.​ ​​​Right?"

Dylan​ ​appreciated​ ​Javon's​ ​consoling​ ​tone.​ ​​​He​ ​accepted​ ​a​ ​glass​ ​and sipped​ ​it.​ ​​​Able​ ​wanted​ ​his​ ​balls​ ​lapped​ ​right​ ​away​ ​but​ ​Javon​ ​told​ ​him​ ​to wait.​ ​​​Again​ ​Dylan​ ​was​ ​soothed.​ ​​​He​ ​drank​ ​more​ ​wine.​ ​​​Then​

​two​ ​of​ ​the guys​ ​got​ ​into​ ​a​ ​discussion.​ ​​​They​ ​were​ ​saying​ ​that​ ​someone​ ​could​ ​take wine​ ​in​ ​an​ ​enema​ ​and​ ​it​ ​would​ ​get​ ​them​ ​drunk.​ ​​​It​ ​sounded​ ​like​ ​it​ ​was something​ ​they​ ​had​ ​debated​ ​before.​ ​​​They​ ​went​ ​back​ ​and​ ​forth​ ​until​ ​Javon interrupted.

He​ ​said,​ ​"I​ ​got​ ​fifty​ ​bucks​ ​says​ ​it's​ ​true.​ ​​​And​ ​I​ ​got​ ​a​ ​enema​ ​set-up​ ​in​ ​one​ ​of the​ ​lockers​ ​to​ ​prove​ ​it.​ ​​​I​ ​wanted​ ​to​ ​be​ ​ready​ ​to​ ​take​ ​your​ ​money."

Tyler​ ​said,​ ​"You're​ ​on."​ ​​​The​ ​other​ ​guy​ ​said​ ​the​ ​same.​ ​​​"Now​ ​let's​ ​see​ ​some proof.​ ​​​Otherwise​ ​just​ ​shut​ ​up​ ​and​ ​pay​ ​up."

Javon​ ​pointed​ ​out,​ ​"Yo,​ ​I​ ​ain't​ ​got​ ​nobody​ ​to​ ​try​ ​it​ ​on."
"Then​ ​you​ ​owe​ ​us.​ ​​​Unless​ ​maybe​ ​Deena​ ​there​ ​wants​ ​to​ ​let​ ​us​ ​try​ ​it​

​on her."

"No,"​ ​Javon​ ​told​ ​them.​ ​"This​ ​is​ ​her​ ​last​ ​night​ ​and​ ​that​ ​wasn't​ ​part​ ​of​ ​what​ ​we planned."​ ​​​He​ ​got​ ​out​ ​his​ ​wallet​ ​and​ ​cursed.​ ​​​"Damn.​ ​​​I​ ​should​ ​have​ ​waited till​ ​I​ ​figured​ ​who​ ​to​ ​use."

Dylan,​ ​seeing​ ​a​ ​chance​ ​to​ ​really​ ​clear​ ​himself​ ​from​ ​any​ ​carryover​ ​trouble, and​ ​deciding​ ​that​ ​the​ ​treatment​ ​wasn't​ ​harmful,​ ​said,​ ​"It's​ ​okay,​ ​Javon.​ ​​​Sir. I'll​ ​do​ ​it."

"You​ ​don't​ ​have​ ​to."
"No.​ ​​​I​ ​want​ ​to.​ ​​​So​ ​you'll​ ​understand​ ​that...​ ​I​ ​don't​ ​know...​ ​that​ ​I'm​

​okay."

"Well​ ​damn,"​ ​Javon​ ​said,​ ​giving​ ​Dylan's​ ​small​ ​hand​ ​a​ ​hearty​ ​shake. "Guess​ ​I'm​ ​going​ ​to​ ​earn​ ​some​ ​easy​ ​money​ ​now.​ ​​​Maybe​ ​I'll​ ​split​ ​it​ ​with​ ​my new​ ​business​ ​partner."

He​ ​made​ ​Dylan​ ​fetch​ ​the​ ​rubber​ ​bag​ ​and​ ​tube.​ ​​​Able​ ​grabbed​ ​a​ ​half​ ​empty bottle​ ​of​ ​red.​ ​​​Their​ ​test​ ​subject​ ​had​ ​to​ ​kneel​ ​on​ ​the​ ​edge​ ​of​ ​the​ ​mattress with​ ​his​ ​bare​ ​bottom​ ​raised.​ ​​​They​ ​quickly​ ​got​ ​everything​ ​ready​ ​and​ ​Tyler popped​ ​the​ ​nozzle​ ​into​ ​his​ ​rectum.​ ​​​As​ ​the​ ​valve​ ​was​ ​released,​ ​Dylan​ ​felt liquid​ ​rush​ ​into​ ​his​ ​bowels.​ ​​​He​ ​got​ ​a​ ​full​ ​feeling​ ​and​ ​then​ ​the​ ​valve​ ​was shut​ ​and​ ​the​ ​piece​ ​in​ ​his​ ​bottom​ ​was​ ​separated​ ​from​ ​the​ ​tube,​ ​so​ ​he​ ​could move​ ​around.​ ​​​Very​ ​soon​ ​he​ ​felt​ ​the​ ​effects​ ​of​ ​the​ ​alcohol.​ ​​​His​ ​head​ ​was spinning.​ ​​​Tyler​ ​said​ ​something​ ​about​ ​how​ ​Dylan​ ​could​ ​just​ ​be​ ​faking drunkenness.​ ​​​Javon​ ​considered​ ​that.

He​ ​said,​ ​"Yeah,​ ​guess​ ​you're​ ​right.​ ​​​How​ ​about​ ​we​ ​cancel​ ​the​ ​bet?" "Sure.​ ​​​No​ ​big​ ​deal."

Dylan,​ ​now​ ​reeling​ ​drunk,​ ​was​ ​vaguely​ ​disappointed.​ ​​​Weren't​ ​he​ ​and

Javon​ ​buddies​ ​now?​ ​​​Working​ ​together?​ ​​​Maybe​ ​going​ ​to​ ​split​ ​the​ ​money?

"And​ ​I​ ​got​ ​to​ ​step​ ​out​ ​for​ ​a​ ​while,"​ ​the​ ​group's​ ​leader​ ​said.​ ​​​"You​ ​guys​ ​keep Deena​ ​entertained.​ ​​​Show​ ​her​ ​a​ ​good​ ​time​ ​for​ ​her​ ​last​ ​night.​ ​​​Help​ ​her​ ​get in​ ​touch​ ​with​ ​her​ ​party​ ​girl​ ​part."

Feeling​ ​too​ ​drunk​ ​to​ ​get​ ​back​ ​up,​ ​Dylan​ ​watched​ ​hazily​ ​as​ ​one​ ​of​ ​the​ ​others dropped​ ​his​ ​pants​ ​and​ ​knelt​ ​in​ ​front​ ​of​ ​him.​ ​​​By​ ​reflex,​ ​Dylan​ ​used​ ​his mouth​ ​to​ ​get​ ​the​ ​proffered​ ​cock​ ​hard,​ ​then​ ​began​ ​to​ ​suck​ ​it.​ ​​​He​ ​used​ ​all​ ​the tricks​ ​he​ ​could​ ​remember​ ​learning.​ ​​​This​ ​was​ ​like​ ​being​ ​in​ ​one​ ​of​ ​those​ ​IR sissy​ ​videos.​ ​​​And​ ​he​ ​was​ ​the​ ​star.​ ​​​He​ ​finished​ ​the​ ​very​ ​sloppy​ ​BJ,​ ​gulping down​ ​semen​ ​but​ ​also​ ​getting​ ​it​ ​on​ ​his​ ​chin.​ ​​​The​ ​wine​ ​was​ ​sloshing​ ​around inside​ ​him.​ ​​​When​ ​he​ ​seemed​ ​like​ ​he​ ​might​ ​pass​ ​out​ ​they​ ​helped​ ​him​ ​up and​ ​walked​ ​him,​ ​between​ ​two​ ​of​ ​them,​ ​to​ ​the​ ​bathroom.​ ​​​Then​ ​they positioned​ ​him​ ​over​ ​the​ ​toilet​ ​and​ ​pulled​ ​his​ ​plug​ ​just​ ​as​ ​he​ ​sat.​ ​​​Dylan emptied​ ​himself​ ​into​ ​the​ ​bowl​ ​and​ ​sat​ ​there​ ​with​ ​a​ ​lopsided​ ​smile​ ​on​ ​his face.​ ​​​Someone​ ​used​ ​the​ ​lipstick​ ​on​ ​his​ ​mouth,​ ​doing​ ​an​ ​amateurish​ ​job​ ​but not​ ​as​ ​intentionally​ ​bad​ ​as​ ​Javon​ ​had​ ​before.​ ​​​He​ ​was​ ​taken​ ​back​ ​to​ ​the mattress​ ​and​ ​put​ ​on​ ​his​ ​knees.

Dylan​ ​was​ ​aware​ ​of​ ​two​ ​more​ ​cocks​ ​being​ ​offered​ ​to​ ​him.​ ​​​He​ ​handled them,​ ​went​ ​back​ ​and​ ​forth​ ​between​ ​sucking​ ​the​ ​one​ ​on​ ​the​ ​left​ ​and​ ​the​ ​one on​ ​the​ ​right,​ ​and​ ​then​ ​finished​ ​each​ ​in​ ​his​ ​mouth,​ ​letting​ ​cream​ ​mixed​ ​with saliva​ ​run​ ​freely​ ​over​ ​of​ ​his​ ​lower​ ​lip​ ​and​ ​down​ ​his​ ​front.​ ​​​He​ ​saw​ ​how​ ​badly the​ ​dress​ ​was​ ​getting​ ​streaked​ ​with​ ​it​ ​and​ ​laughed.​ ​​​The​ ​room​ ​was spinning.​ ​​​Someone​ ​gave​ ​him​ ​a​ ​pill​ ​that​ ​they​ ​said​ ​would​ ​help​ ​him​ ​sober​ ​up and​ ​a​ ​swig​ ​of​ ​wine​ ​to​ ​wash​ ​it​ ​down.​ ​​​They​ ​left​ ​him​ ​the​ ​bottle.​ ​​​He​ ​laid​ ​back, clutching​ ​the​ ​bottle​ ​to​ ​his​ ​chest,​ ​dimly​ ​aware​ ​that​ ​wine​ ​was​ ​running​ ​out​ ​onto the​ ​dress.​ ​​​He​ ​was​ ​dimly​ ​aware​ ​of​ ​the​ ​lipstick​ ​being​ ​tucked​ ​into​ ​the​ ​top​ ​of his​ ​dress.

Then,​ ​for​ ​some​ ​reason,​ ​they​ ​were​ ​putting​ ​something​ ​around​ ​him​ ​on​ ​the mattress.​ ​​​Pieces​ ​of​ ​paper?​ ​​​Pictures?​ ​​​His​ ​head​ ​felt​ ​funny.​ ​​​Maybe​ ​a​ ​side effect​ ​from​ ​that​ ​sobriety​ ​pill.​ ​​​He​ ​wondered​ ​when​ ​it​ ​was​ ​going​ ​to​ ​start working.​ ​​​And​ ​then​ ​he​ ​passed​ ​out.

Meanwhile,​ ​Javon​ ​had​ ​showed​ ​up​ ​at​ ​the​ ​rehearsal​ ​space​ ​shorty​ ​after leaving​ ​the​ ​gym.​ ​​​Julia​ ​had​ ​asked​ ​that​ ​everyone​ ​involved​ ​with​ ​the​ ​show gather​ ​there.​ ​​​She​ ​had​ ​noticed​ ​that​ ​the​ ​dress​ ​she​ ​was​ ​supposed​ ​to​ ​wear​ ​for the​ ​impending​ ​performance​ ​was​ ​gone.​ ​​​When​ ​she​ ​searched​ ​for​ ​it​ ​she​ ​found that​ ​many​ ​others​ ​were​ ​also​ ​missing.​ ​​​Everyone​ ​showed​ ​up​ ​to​ ​discuss​ ​the situation.​ ​​​Everyone​ ​except​ ​Dylan.​ ​​​Professor​ ​Smyth​ ​was​ ​concerned.

Javon​ ​defended​ ​the​ ​missing​ ​student.​ ​​​"I​ ​mean,​ ​why​ ​would​ ​he​ ​do​ ​anything with​ ​the​ ​dresses?​ ​​​They​ ​were​ ​his​ ​responsibility."​ ​​​He​ ​made​ ​a​ ​show​ ​of thinking​ ​for​ ​a​ ​few​ ​seconds.​ ​​​"On​ ​the​ ​other​ ​hand,​ ​why​ ​didn't​ ​he​ ​notice​ ​that​ ​a bunch​ ​were​ ​missing?​ ​​​And​ ​report​ ​it?"

That​ ​was​ ​all​ ​it​ ​took​ ​to​ ​set​ ​the​ ​others​ ​off.​ ​​​They​ ​had​ ​all​ ​noticed​ ​how​ ​oddly Dylan​ ​had​ ​been​ ​acting​ ​for​ ​weeks.​ ​​​Like​ ​he​ ​had​ ​something​ ​to​ ​hide.​ ​​​The​ ​girls were​ ​especially​ ​suspicious.​ ​As​ ​they​ ​discussed​ ​it​ ​now,​ ​Javon​ ​still occasionally​ ​tried​ ​to​ ​defend​ ​him​ ​but​ ​opinions​ ​were​ ​solidifying​ ​against​ ​the only​ ​missing​ ​person​ ​involved.​ ​​​​​Javon​ ​joined​ ​them,​ ​but​ ​with​ ​a​ ​show​ ​of reluctance.

He​ ​said,​ ​"Now​ ​that​ ​I​ ​think​ ​of​ ​it,​ ​I​ ​have​ ​noticed​ ​his​ ​car​ ​at​ ​the​ ​old​ ​gym​ ​a​ ​few times​ ​recently.​ ​​​I​ ​figured​ ​he​ ​was​ ​working​ ​out.​ ​​​You​ ​know,​ ​because​ ​he's​ ​so slender​ ​and​ ​kind​ ​of​ ​a​ ​weakling."

Julia​ ​said,​ ​"Maybe​ ​we​ ​should​ ​go​ ​over​ ​there​ ​and​ ​take​ ​a​ ​look." The​ ​Professor​ ​backed​ ​her​ ​up​ ​with,​ ​"Whatever's​ ​going​ ​on,​ ​I'd​ ​like​

​to​ ​get​ ​this straightened​ ​out​ ​before​ ​opening​ ​night."

"Well,"​ ​Javon​ ​said​ ​optimistically,​ ​"it'll​ ​be​ ​worth​ ​it​ ​if​ ​we​ ​can​ ​clear​ ​the​ ​kid's name."

They​ ​all​ ​piled​ ​into​ ​cars​ ​and​ ​drove​ ​across​ ​campus.​ ​​​When​ ​they​ ​got​ ​there, Dylan's​ ​car​ ​was​ ​the​ ​only​ ​one​ ​on​ ​that​ ​lot​ ​and​ ​the​ ​side​ ​entrance​ ​of​ ​the building​ ​was​ ​open.​ ​​​The​ ​group​ ​entered​ ​and​ ​someone​ ​saw​ ​light​ ​coming​ ​from under​ ​the​ ​locker​ ​room​ ​door.​ ​​​​​They​ ​went​ ​there​ ​and​ ​when​ ​the​ ​door​ ​was​ ​flung open​ ​and​ ​they​ ​went​ ​in,​ ​they​ ​were​ ​stunned​ ​by​ ​what​ ​they​ ​found.​ ​​​There​ ​was a​ ​mattress​ ​on​ ​the​ ​floor​ ​and​ ​on​ ​it​ ​was​ ​Dylan,​ ​in​ ​a​ ​dress,​ ​his​ ​lower​ ​body exposed.​ ​​​He​ ​had​ ​one​ ​hand​ ​on​ ​his​ ​tiny​ ​flaccid​ ​penis​ ​and​ ​the​ ​other​ ​reaching for​ ​a​ ​bottle​ ​of​ ​wine.​ ​​​Spread​ ​around​ ​him​ ​were​ ​print-outs​ ​from​ ​a​ ​computer. As​ ​people​ ​began​ ​to​ ​pick​ ​them​ ​up​ ​they​ ​gasped​ ​at​ ​what​ ​they​ ​saw.​ ​​​In​ ​every picture​ ​Dylan​ ​was​ ​involved​ ​in​ ​some​ ​sort​ ​of​ ​lewd​ ​sex​ ​act,​ ​while​ ​in​ ​a​ ​dress, and​ ​often​ ​looking​ ​quite​ ​happy​ ​about​ ​it​ ​all.​ ​​​Then​ ​they​ ​realized​ ​that​ ​he​ ​had semen​ ​on​ ​his​ ​lipstick-colored​ ​mouth​ ​and​ ​his​ ​lower​ ​face.​ ​​​It​ ​was​ ​also​ ​on​ ​the front​ ​of​ ​the​ ​dress,​ ​which​ ​was​ ​stained​ ​with​ ​wine.

"That's​ ​my​ ​dress​ ​for​ ​the​ ​show!"​ ​Julia​ ​lamented.​ ​​​"And​ ​there's​ ​my​ ​missing lipstick​ ​sticking​ ​out​ ​of​ ​the​ ​neckline."

"This​ ​is​ ​scandalous,"​ ​Professor​ ​Smyth​ ​cried.​ ​​​"I​ ​don't​ ​want​ ​anybody​ ​talking about​ ​it​ ​outside​ ​this​ ​room."

"It​ ​could​ ​make​ ​the​ ​college​ ​look​ ​terrible,"​ ​said​ ​someone​ ​from​ ​the​ ​rear, someone​ ​who​ ​sounded​ ​like​ ​Javon.​ ​​​"It​ ​should​ ​be​ ​handled​ ​quickly​ ​and decisively.​ ​​​By​ ​the​ ​college​ ​authorities."

A​ ​moment​ ​later​ ​Dylan​ ​sat​ ​up,​ ​blinking​ ​his​ ​bleary​ ​eyes.​ ​​​He​ ​said​ ​in​ ​a​ ​slurred voice,​ ​"We​ ​had​ ​a​ ​party.​ ​​​I'm​ ​a​ ​party​ ​girl.​ ​​​My​ ​name​ ​is​ ​Deena.​ ​​​Don't​ ​call​ ​me Dylan."

"Young​ ​man,"​ ​Professor​ ​Smyth​ ​said,​ ​sounding​ ​uncharacteristically​ ​stern, "you​ ​are​ ​in​ ​serious​ ​trouble."

"Wh...​ ​what?"​ ​​​Dylan​ ​got​ ​shakily​ ​to​ ​his​ ​feet​ ​and​ ​stood​ ​there​ ​swaying.​ ​​​He was​ ​coming​ ​to​ ​his​ ​senses.​ ​​​"It's​ ​not​ ​my​ ​fault,"​ ​he​ ​whined.​ ​​​"It​ ​was​ ​Javon." He​ ​spotted​ ​him​ ​and​ ​pointed.​ ​​​"He​ ​was​ ​here​ ​the​ ​whole​ ​time.​ ​​​He's​ ​the ringleader.​ ​​​There's​ ​a​ ​whole​ ​group​ ​of​ ​them.​ ​​​I'm​ ​not​ ​a​ ​sissy.​ ​​​I'm​ ​not​ ​gay."

"What?"​ ​​​It​ ​was​ ​Julia.​ ​​​"He​ ​couldn't​ ​have​ ​been​ ​here.​ ​​​Javon​ ​was​ ​with​ ​us​ ​for the​ ​last​ ​hour."​ ​​​She​ ​took​ ​his​ ​hand.​ ​​​"And​ ​I​ ​know​ ​he​ ​could​ ​never​ ​be​ ​involved with​ ​anything​ ​like​ ​this."

Professor​ ​Smyth​ ​said,​ ​"I'm​ ​calling​ ​campus​ ​security.​ ​​​This​ ​will​ ​not​ ​go unpunished."

"And​ ​there​ ​are​ ​still​ ​a​ ​lot​ ​more​ ​dresses​ ​to​ ​be​ ​accounted​ ​for,"​ ​Javon​ ​added with​ ​concern.​ ​​​"You​ ​don't​ ​think​ ​they​ ​could​ ​be...​ ​at​ ​his​ ​place?"

They​ ​went​ ​there​ ​next​ ​and​ ​found​ ​not​ ​only​ ​the​ ​stained​ ​dresses,​ ​but​ ​Dylan's computer​ ​turned​ ​on​ ​and​ ​IR​ ​sissy​ ​porn​ ​running​ ​on​ ​it.​ ​​​Someone​ ​realized​ ​it must​ ​be​ ​a​ ​pay​ ​site​ ​and​ ​someone​ ​who​ ​was​ ​a​ ​computer​ ​science​ ​major checked​ ​the​ ​machine,​ ​discovering​ ​that​ ​he​ ​belonged​ ​to​ ​three​ ​pay​ ​sites,​ ​all with​ ​variations​ ​of​ ​that​ ​theme.

The​ ​next​ ​morning,​ ​with​ ​the​ ​Professor​ ​laying​ ​out​ ​the​ ​evidence,​ ​and​ ​Javon and​ ​Julia​ ​present​ ​as​ ​concerned​ ​members​ ​of​ ​the​ ​theater​ ​group,​ ​a​ ​hungover Dylan​ ​was​ ​expelled.​ ​​​He​ ​couldn't​ ​believe​ ​it.​ ​​​At​ ​the​ ​same​ ​time,​ ​more demeaning​ ​pictures​ ​were​ ​being​ ​leaked​ ​anonymously​ ​to​ ​everyone​ ​in​ ​the theater​ ​group​ ​and​ ​a​ ​number​ ​of​ ​other​ ​students.

As​ ​Dylan​ ​walked​ ​dispiritedly​ ​away,​ ​a​ ​car​ ​pulled​ ​up​ ​alongside​ ​him.​ ​​​It​ ​was Tyler​ ​and​ ​Able.

Tyler​ ​told​ ​him,​ ​"I​ ​don't​ ​think​ ​you​ ​want​ ​to​ ​run​ ​home​ ​to​ ​your​ ​family.​ ​​​If​ ​you​ ​do, somebody​ ​might​ ​send​ ​them​ ​a​ ​bunch​ ​of​ ​nasty​ ​pictures​ ​of​ ​you,​ ​Deena."

"Yeah,"​ ​agreed​ ​Able.​ ​​​"You​ ​need​ ​to​ ​like​ ​get​ ​a​ ​job​ ​and​ ​someplace​ ​to​ ​stay. So​ ​I​ ​talked​ ​my​ ​uncle​ ​into​ ​hiring​ ​you.​ ​​​Get​ ​in​ ​the​ ​back​ ​of​ ​the​ ​car."

Feeling​ ​like​ ​his​ ​world​ ​was​ ​crumbling​ ​around​ ​him,​ ​Dylan​ ​numbly​ ​obeyed.​ ​​​It turned​ ​out​ ​that​ ​Able's​ ​uncle​ ​had​ ​a​ ​janitorial​ ​business.​ ​​​They​ ​took​ ​Dylan there​ ​and​ ​got​ ​him​ ​some​ ​coveralls.​ ​​​All​ ​the​ ​ones​ ​on​ ​the​ ​rack​ ​were​ ​orange except​ ​one,​ ​which​ ​was​ ​pink.​ ​​​That​ ​was​ ​what​ ​they​ ​gave​ ​him.

"Now​ ​strip​ ​down,"​ ​Able's​ ​uncle​ ​told​ ​him.​ ​​​He​ ​was​ ​a​ ​hard-faced​ ​Black​ ​man with​ ​a​ ​cigar​ ​stuck​ ​in​ ​the​ ​corner​ ​of​ ​his​ ​mouth.​ ​​​"You​ ​can​ ​leave​ ​your​ ​street clothes​ ​here."

Afraid​ ​to​ ​protest,​ ​Dylan​ ​got​ ​naked.​ ​​​Tyler​ ​handed​ ​him​ ​a​ ​rainbow-striped shopping​ ​bag.​ ​​​Inside​ ​were​ ​pink,​ ​bikini-cut​ ​panties,​ ​and​ ​a​ ​matching​ ​garter belt​ ​and​ ​stockings​ ​set.​ ​​​He​ ​obediently​ ​put​ ​them​ ​on,​ ​having​ ​some​ ​trouble with​ ​the​ ​stockings​ ​but​ ​ultimately​ ​donning​ ​them.​ ​​​Then​ ​the​ ​coveralls​ ​went​ ​on over​ ​top.​ ​​​He​ ​was​ ​given​ ​pink​ ​running​ ​shoes​ ​to​ ​complete​ ​the​ ​demeaning outfit.

"Now,"​ ​Able​ ​said,​ ​"we'll​ ​hold​ ​onto​ ​the​ ​keys​ ​for​ ​your​ ​old​ ​place.​ ​​​Help​ ​you​ ​get moved​ ​out.​ ​​​Try​ ​not​ ​to​ ​accidentally​ ​give​ ​all​ ​your​ ​boy​

​clothes​ ​to​ ​charity.​ ​​​If​ ​we did​ ​that,​ ​you'd​ ​be​ ​stuck​ ​in​ ​the​ ​girly​ ​stuff​ ​we're​ ​going​ ​to​ ​buy​ ​with​ ​the​ ​cash from​ ​your​ ​wallet,​ ​and​ ​order​ ​with​ ​your​ ​credit​ ​card."

"But...​ ​where​ ​can​ ​I​ ​stay?"

"We'll​ ​move​ ​you​ ​into​ ​a​ ​little​ ​apartment​ ​my​ ​uncle​ ​is​ ​renting​ ​you.​ ​​​Of​ ​course, he​ ​can't​ ​afford​ ​to​ ​pay​ ​you​ ​much,​ ​since​ ​you​ ​lack​ ​experience​ ​in​ ​the​ ​janitorial field.​ ​​​But​ ​you'll​ ​be​ ​able​ ​to​ ​make​ ​the​ ​rent.​ ​​​Barely.​ ​​​Now​ ​we'll​ ​drive​ ​you​ ​to your​ ​regular​ ​assignment."

Still​ ​feeling​ ​disassociated​ ​from​ ​himself,​ ​Dylan​ ​let​ ​them​ ​drive​ ​him​ ​again.​ ​​​But why​ ​were​ ​they​ ​taking​ ​him​ ​back​ ​to​ ​the​ ​campus​ ​after​ ​his​ ​expulsion?​ ​​​As​ ​they got​ ​him​ ​out​ ​of​ ​the​ ​car,​ ​passing​ ​students​ ​gaped​ ​at​ ​him​ ​in​ ​that​ ​pink​ ​jumpsuit and​ ​shoes.​ ​​​Some​ ​of​ ​them​ ​had​ ​seen​ ​the​ ​photos​ ​of​ ​him.​ ​​​Others​ ​had​ ​heard whispered​ ​stories.

"Now​ ​just​ ​walk​ ​yourself​ ​across​ ​campus​ ​to​ ​the​ ​administration​ ​office​ ​and report​ ​in.​ ​​​I​ ​think​ ​today​ ​they​ ​have​ ​you​ ​cleaning​ ​the​ ​bathrooms​ ​in​ ​Alpha​ ​Afro Alpha."

"The​ ​Black​ ​fraternity​ ​house?​ ​​​But​ ​I​ ​can't​ ​go​ ​in​ ​there.​ ​​​If​ ​those​ ​guys​ ​see​ ​me like​ ​this,​ ​I​ ​don't​ ​know​ ​what​ ​they​ ​might​ ​do."

"Yeah.​ ​​​​​Who​ ​knows?​ ​​​And​ ​it​ ​would​ ​be​ ​even​ ​worse​ ​if​ ​somebody​ ​fired​ ​off​ ​a bunch​ ​of​ ​them​ ​pictures​ ​of​ ​you,​ ​with​ ​Black​ ​cocks​ ​in​ ​your​ ​hands​ ​and​ ​mouth, to​ ​them​ ​brothers.​ ​​​Pictures​ ​with​ ​Black​ ​cocks​ ​but​ ​no​ ​Black​ ​faces.​ ​​​Just​ ​your face."

As​ ​Dylan​ ​started​ ​toward​ ​the​ ​administration​ ​building​ ​he​ ​saw​ ​familiar​ ​figures strolling​ ​toward​ ​him.​ ​​​It​ ​was​ ​Javon​ ​and​ ​Julia,​ ​hand​ ​in​ ​hand.

She​ ​looked​ ​at​ ​him​ ​critically​ ​and​ ​said,​ ​her​ ​voice​ ​furious,​ ​"You​ ​are​ ​pathetic.​ ​​​I was​ ​sickened​ ​when​ ​I​ ​saw​ ​you​ ​lying​ ​there,​ ​drunk​ ​and​ ​covered​ ​with​ ​semen, your​ ​dick​ ​hanging​ ​out.​ ​​​And​ ​that​ ​thing​ ​between​ ​your​ ​legs​ ​is​ ​so​ ​small.​ ​​​What is​ ​that?​ ​​​Some​ ​kind​ ​of​ ​medical​ ​problem?​ ​​​You​ ​are​ ​a​ ​complete​ ​freak,​ ​Dylan."

Javon​ ​told​ ​her​ ​in​ ​a​ ​calming​ ​tone,​ ​sounding​ ​not​ ​at​ ​all​ ​urban​ ​like​ ​he​ ​had​ ​when he​ ​was​ ​in​ ​the​ ​locker​ ​room,​ ​"I​ ​think​ ​he​ ​told​ ​everyone​ ​last​ ​night​ ​that​ ​he prefers​ ​to​ ​be​ ​called​ ​Deena​ ​now.​ ​​​And​ ​he​ ​can't​ ​help​ ​it​ ​if​ ​he​ ​has​ ​an impossibly​ ​small​ ​dick,​ ​something​ ​no​ ​girl​ ​would​ ​ever​ ​want.​ ​​​His​ ​issues​ ​with being​ ​sexually​ ​different​ ​and​ ​seeking​ ​certain​ ​types​ ​of​ ​partners​ ​and​ ​abnormal acts,​ ​well,​ ​that's​ ​for​ ​him​ ​to​ ​deal​ ​with.​ ​​​Deena​ ​may​ ​seem​ ​like​ ​what​ ​the​ ​Bard would​ ​have​ ​called​ ​a​ ​puling​ ​whelp,​ ​but​ ​there's​ ​always​ ​hope.​ ​​​For​ ​now,​ ​we can​ ​only​ ​offer​ ​him​ ​our​ ​pity."

Julia​ ​took​ ​Javon's​ ​arm.​ ​​​"Oh,​ ​baby,​ ​you​ ​are​ ​such​ ​a​ ​good​ ​person.​ ​​​I'm​ ​so lucky​ ​to​ ​have​ ​you."​ ​​​She​ ​gave​ ​Dylan​ ​a​ ​final​ ​withering​ ​look.​ ​​​"And​ ​I'll​ ​try​ ​to​ ​be sympathetic​ ​toward​ ​creeps​ ​like...​ ​Deena.​ ​​​But​ ​it's​ ​not​ ​easy.​ ​​​I'd​ ​be​ ​just​ ​as happy​ ​if​ ​I​ ​never​ ​had​ ​to​ ​set​ ​eyes​ ​on​ ​him​ ​--​ ​or​ ​her​ ​--​ ​or​ ​whatever​ ​--​ ​again."

Javon​ ​concluded,​ ​"Thus​ ​ends​ ​our​ ​drama."​ ​​​A​ ​moment​ ​later​ ​he​ ​gave​ ​Dylan​ ​a private​ ​wink​ ​and​ ​added,​ ​"All's​ ​well​ ​that​ ​ends​ ​well."

As​ ​they​ ​walked​ ​away,​ ​Dylan​ ​began​ ​to​ ​tremble.​ ​​​His​ ​last​ ​dream​ ​had​ ​just been​ ​shattered.​ ​​​Julia​ ​despised​ ​him.​ ​​​Soon​ ​he​ ​had​ ​to​ ​face​ ​the​ ​Black members​ ​of​ ​Alpha​ ​Afro​ ​Alpha​ ​house.​ ​​​And​ ​he​ ​couldn't​ ​see​ ​any​ ​way​ ​to​ ​get out​ ​of​ ​the​ ​trap​ ​he​ ​was​ ​in,​ ​especially​ ​with​ ​those​ ​blackmail​ ​pictures​ ​available to​ ​send​ ​to​ ​friends​ ​and​ ​family.​ ​​​Everyone's​ ​address​ ​had​ ​been​ ​on​ ​his computer.​ ​​​He​ ​was​ ​doomed.

Even​ ​though​ ​he​ ​had​ ​been​ ​unceremoniously​ ​thrown​ ​out​ ​of​ ​college,​ ​he​ ​was still​ ​going​ ​to​ ​get​ ​a​ ​lot​ ​more​ ​schooling.

*********

(This​ ​story​ ​is​ ​from​ ​an​ ​outline​ ​by​ ​Devin​ ​Dickie,​ ​who​ ​also​ ​provided​ ​the​ ​clever title.)