Kinky Club Assignment! By Throne (19 Pages) (Patreon)

Kinky Club Assignment!

By Throne

© 2019-2020 QoS Comix All Rights Reserved

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, email to ​Devinwhitegurl@gmail.com 

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

KINKY CLUB ASSIGNMENT

by Throne

It all seemed so innocent at the start.  My boss, Mr. Jameson, at Reveal, the popular tabloid newspaper, gave me an assignment.  I was to infiltrate a kinky nightspot and capture some incriminating images with a miniature camera I would conceal on myself.  I was thrilled when he picked me for the job.  My impression up until then had been that he didn't like me.  When I made slyly nasty remarks about one of the gay employees, he let it upset him.  And the time I rolled my eyes and shook my head at the mention of some Pride event, he didn't like that either. 

Jameson had arranged to have me taken on at the club as a temporary hire.  An opening had appeared suddenly so he told me there wasn't enough time to give me background on the story or details about exactly what he wanted.  But he assured me that once I got there it would be obvious. 

He said, "I trust you to figure it out, Peter.  Make me proud."

That was quite a contrast to his familiar outbursts of bad temper.  So I took the spy-type camera he supplied and secreted it in my jockey shorts, figuring I could just excuse myself to go to the restroom when I needed to retrieve it.  This was going to be easy, I told myself as I took a bus to the part of the city where Club Biz-R was located.  It was on a shadowy side street, with a barely identified entrance.  There was a doorman, a burly guy in a white shirt and black slacks, who was all business.  He looked at me unfavorably until I told him who I was and why I was there.  That softened him up and he ushered me inside and told me to go to the backstage area.  If they had performances of some type, maybe that was what I was expected to document.  But like I'd been told, I would be able to work it out.

When a young man in tight pants and a red vest, with no shirt, directed me to where I was going, I had my first misgivings.  Why didn't he have on a shirt?  But hey, if there was something dirty going on, it would make my task that much easier.  So I entered the dressing area and was shocked to find myself behind a shapely female figure, her waist tightly corseted.  I came to a sudden stop just as she turned around.  Except that she was a he, a fact made obvious by her bare, hairless and quite flat chest.  That was in contrast to a gaudily made up face and wavy blond, shoulder length wig. 

"I'm sorry," I began, but the figure hushed me.

"No problem, sweetie.  I don't know you, so I'm guessing you're the new boy they hired."

"Um... yes."

"Well, welcome to the zoo," she said and let out a high-pitched laugh. 

Let me use female pronouns for her and the other performers, who appeared while I was still recovering from my initial shock.  Several more young men entered, all of them in lingerie, with thinned-out eyebrows, hints of make-up, and unmanly mannerisms.  I was still trying to regroup my thoughts when the first one introduced me to them as the 'cute new guy'.  Someone asked me my name.  When I said it was Peter they started to buzz among themselves. 

"Well," decided the first one.  "As much as we all like Peter, all the peter we can get, we can't call you that.  How about..."  She put a finger to her chin and pursed her lips.  "Petunia?"

The others all approved of that.  Then Treat, which was her stage name, picked up a large atomizer and sprayed its contents at my face.  The stuff was flowery like perfume but also had a secondary effect.  As soon as I inhaled it I found myself relaxing, despite those uncomfortable circumstances.  Busy hands began to unbutton my shirt.  Feeling a little drunk, I undid my own belt.  A buzzing instrument was run over sections of my body as they were exposed.  Was it a razor or laser or what?  Even my jockey shorts were removed and the tool got used down there too.  I started to feel less intoxicated but then two more shots of mist were aimed at my lower face and I breathed them in.  Next came piercing sensations, as if I was being stuck with needles, in my upper chest and my butt cheeks. 

Something was clapped over my genital area and held there for several minutes.  After that I was assisted getting into some kind of underwear and something that covered my legs.  Last of all I was sat down while two of the TVs applied several types of -- cosmetics? -- to my face, and fussed with my hair before spraying it.  I was allowed to sit there for a time that my mind wasn't recovered enough to measure.  When I finally came out of my pleasant stupor, Treat and another of the 'girls', one called Trick, helped me to my feet and walked me to a full length mirror.  What I saw snapped me back to reality.  The reflection wasn't recognizable as myself.

In a voice hushed by shock, I asked, "What did you do to me?"

"Just helped you get ready, dear," Treat insisted.

"To make you feel like part of our team," added Trick.

Staring back at me from the glass was a very feminine person.  Her hair was fluffed up and staying that way.  Face made up to look somewhat sluttish.  Body denuded of all hair.  Wearing a scanty bra-like top, panties and stockings.  Except that the cups of that upper garment held small but unmistakably real breasts.  And when they turned me sideways, the seat of the panties were stretched out by plump round buttocks.  It must have been those injections that gave me my new shape.  For it definitely was me, I assured myself as I reached out and set my fingertips against the cold hard surface of the mirror. 

Another of the CDs, a tall Black gal with distinctive cheekbones, held up my tiny camera.  She was Jet.  "Look what I found in your shorts.  It was the second most interesting thing there."  She giggled and gave my crotch a squeeze.  "But now the main points of interest are well concealed.  Go ahead, sugar.  Pull down your pretty pink panties and have a look."

I didn't want to expose my cock and balls to these queens but I was too unsettled by what she had said not to check.  When I lowered the lightweight undergarment, I was startled to see a perfect replica of shaved female pudenda.  When I tried to tug it off, all I succeeded in doing was pulling at my skin and hurting myself. 

"Ingenious, isn't it?" said another of them, one with an obvious Asian heritage, short like me but with exotic features, and known as Ming.  "The adhesive will keep it there for weeks.  Just remember to sit when you pee, darling.  The rest of us tend to do that by choice.  In your case, though, it's a necessity."

My head was spinning.  Two of them reached out to steady me.  The sensation of male hands gripping my bare arms unnerved me.  It was even worse when someone patted my bottom.  Jet began taking pictures of me with my camera.

"Maybe we had better test your new pussy," suggested Ming. 

She put herself in front of me and, while my arms were still restrained, began to finger my nipples through the thin material of the top.  I gasped at the sensations, which raced directly to my cock.  It immediately got hard, or at least tried to.  The pussy cover was a tight fit so that my penis was pressed against my testicles.  When the former tried to enlarge it cause some nasty discomfort to the latter.  I moaned and my tormentors made obviously insincere sounds of sympathy.  Then Ming fastened her mouth to each side of my chest in turn, to suck and tongue-tease my nipples.  That turned my below-the-belt discomfort into pain. 

"Please..." I whimpered.

"Oh?" Ming inquired.  "You want more?" 

"No, no, no," I blurted.

"Now, Candy Pants," Treat told me, "don't get snippy.  You do want to stay on our good side.  After all, without our help you'll be wearing that faux puss for three weeks minimum.  

But we do have access to a very specialized solvent which is the only thing that'll take it off any sooner."

"And then there's your small but eye-catching tits and ass," Trick reminded me.  "Do you want them to stay the way they are?  Or would you like us to use a counteractant to get rid of them?  Hmmm?  But if you get on our bad side, there's even a chance we might accidently use more of the same stuff that gave you those curves, which would give them a growth spurt.  Right now we're calling you Petunia.  After a few more injections that might have to be changed to Miss Big Boobs.  And Bouncy Booty."

"So," Ming concluded, "it would be good for you to do what you're told."

"Okay," I said reluctantly.  "What's my job going to be?"

"You can start by serving drinks.  Just go to a table, take their order, and go to the bar that runs alongside one wall.  Then deliver the drinks and flirt a little to get better tips."

"Well, I'm really not interested in making money.  I just want to..."

Jet silenced me with an upraised hand, palm facing me.  "Honey Pie, if you don't earn enough in tips, you'll be assigned some unpleasant duty for your lack of effort.  And trust me, you wouldn't want that."  Her dark features were made over by a devilish smile. 

"All right."  I sighed.

"Half the tables are already occupied," said Jet.  "And there are only two girls working them.  So get yourself out there and shake your moneymaker." 

Treat pointed the way.  Half naked, body smooth and hairless, hair slightly styled, face very much made up, wearing that revealing top and brief panties, which showed off my new figure, I knew I had to go.  Trick snapped her fingers to get my attention.  She held out a pair of sandals, encrusted with obviously fake jewels, and bearing two inch heels. 

She said, "I think you'll be able to walk in these.  And they'll shape your legs a bit.  Plus make you take small mincing steps.  So put on your magic slippers, remember to keep your voice soft and high, and get out there and make us proud."

"Yeah," seconded Trick.  "While we finish getting ready for showtime, you warm up all those gentlemen out there.  And remember about how important those tips are."

I got the sandals on, took a few experimental steps to assure myself I could balance in the relatively low heels, and stepped through a door that led to the main club.  What I saw was a long room with, as I'd been told, a bar down one side.  There was a low stage and, in front of that, a series of risers all the way to the back wall.  On each of those elevations were tables and about fifty percent of them were occupied, with newly arriving patrons seeking seats.  The pair of other servers were busily working.  I had to look twice to convince myself that they were honestly males, just pretending to be girls.  Then a well dressed man at a nearby table signaled for me to come and take the order of the four customers there.

Putting one foot carefully in front of the other, feeling how that made my hips roll, and aware of my enlarged backside also moving to my new gait, I approached him and his companions.  When I stopped a few steps away,  he crooked is finger to coax me nearer.  Remembering the need to make tips, I got within an arm's length of him.  He reached out to stroke my thigh above the top of one stocking.  It made me shudder with revulsion. 

"I don't know you," he said.  "You must be new."

"Yes, Sir."  I didn't have to try to keep my voice breathy and mild.  Fear did that for me. 

"And what's your name, sweetheart."

I almost said Peter but then substituted it with, "Petunia."

His fingers drifted across the front of my panties, checking the notch in my false mound.  "And I see that you like to pretend your a girl right down to the essential details."

"Err... I do."  That didn't sound convincing, so I fluttered my false eyelashes at him.

"A shy one," he told the other guys at the table.  "Maybe she'd relax if she got to know us better."

Seeing trouble ahead, I mentioned, "But right now I should take your order."  I inhaled and tried to untense.  With a hint of coyness I said, "Maybe we can talk again later."

He pulled a stack of one dollar bills from the inside pocket of his sport jacket and laid it on the table.  "Sounds good, baby.  Let us give you our order."

They all leered at me as they said what they wanted.  Despite being a nervous wreck, I was able to keep it all straight in my head until I got to the bar and told the tall guy in a gown and bouffant wig what I needed.  He -- I mean she -- cheerfully made the drinks. 

"I'm Creamy," she said.  "Let me know if any of the customers aren't getting fresh with you."

It took a second for what she had actually said to register.  I forced a smile and thanked her.  She gave me the glasses on a tray and I started back, full of trepidation.  The guy who had already touched me once gave my bottom a pat.  As I circled the table to hand out the other drinks, everyone took advantage of my forced proximity.  By the end I was quivering.  But then the first guy held out a single and the others each had one ready.  Unfortunately for me, I was expected to circle the table so they could tuck the bills into my panties, which naturally involved still more touching. 

As I walked unsteadily away someone else was already trying to get my attention.  There were two guys at that table and one of them managed to pull me down onto his thighs.  I could feel his penis getting hard against my enlarged rump.  He urged me to try his companion's lap, where I found myself having my tits fondled.  With an effort, I acted like it was all just playful fun.  In reality it was a nightmare.  I'm a straight man, I kept telling myself.  Except that my chest had become unusually sensitive, and my trapped penis kept trying to get hard as rude hands sampled my hairless flesh.  My only consolation was that I earned two five dollar tips.

Just as I was telling myself I could get through the next few hours without going into hysterics, I saw one of the other waitresses on her knees, sucking teasingly on some man's thick middle finger.  He was laughing and saying something I couldn't hear.  Was I expected to perform acts like that?   Or even worse?  A spotlight hit the stage.  Trick and Treat appeared, fully costumed in their drag finery.  They lip synched to a pair of songs and then traded quips.  Finally they invited an audience member up for some suggestive back and forth, most of it gently aimed at the volunteer. 

They left and Jet replaced them.  She made a few barbed comments about her predecessors before saying it was time for the evening's first private party selections.  The other two waitresses headed toward her.  As one of them passed me she hooked her arm in mine and pulled me along.  There I stood on the stage, with the whole room, now full, watching.  I shifted around nervously, wondering what was about to happen.  Jet indicated the first server and asked who was interested.   Hands went up and voices were raised.  By some process I couldn't fathom, Jet selected one table and sent the girl scampering toward it.  Then she moved on to the second candidate, with similar results.  Finally she reached me.  I froze up inside.  A pair of men, who looked like they were in early middle age, wanted me and I was given to them.  Numbly I made my way to their table.  The other two waitresses were being taken through a door on the other side of the stage.  I went to the men who had been given me and they took me there too.  We passed through and there were several doors which led to private rooms, one of which we entered.

When I saw a bed dominating the space, my heart sank.  One of the men sat on a wooden chair in the corner and waved me toward him.  I went and he patted his lap, where I obediently sat.  He grabbed my hips and held me in place.  When he gave my pelvis a few tugs I understood the signal and began to wriggle atop him.  Soon I had another stiff cock poking at my bottom.  The second man dimmed the lights and sat on the edge of the bed.  The one with me began to moan softly. 

"Oh, this feels so good.  Having my cock inside you.   It's so big.  Is it stretching you?"

I realized that he was playing out a fantasy.  I gave another jiggle and tried to play along.  First I purred.

Then I told him, "It is big.  So large.  And it's stretching me."  What else would he want to hear?  "But it feels good."  Just in case he wanted the opposite response, I added, "It hurts but it's turning me on, too."  I sounded strange to hear myself saying all that in my new feminine voice.

"You want more," he suggested.  "Don't you?"

Lifting my hips slightly and lowering them, I used a seductive tone as I assured him, "I want it to go on all night."  This scenario was so demeaning.  "Don't stop."  I sighed loudly.  "Please don't stop."

He cupped my breasts and fondled them, which had the unfortunate effect of stimulating me again.  The crotch cover once more caused me discomfort.  I groaned and he took that for enthusiasm. 

"You just can't get enough of having me inside you.  All the way.  So deep.  It's almost too much."

"Yessss."  I sounded even more involved than I intended. 

"Well, pretty soon I'm going to shoot my load.  What do you think of that?"

What did he want me to think?  To say?  I improvised, "I want it.  Give it to me."

He pinched my nipples and bucked his hips at the same time, grunting like he was really ejaculating.  That went on for half a minute before he settled back down.  I felt so used, reduced to a pervert's plaything.  He told me I could get up and I did it slowly, as if I was lifting myself off his impaling organ.  He seemed to like that final touch.  I stole a peek at the front of his slacks but didn't see a wet spot. 

Then the other one took my hand to pull me near.  He patted the mattress and I laid down, automatically getting onto my back.  He parted my legs and knelt over me. 

"You look delicious.  Good enough to eat."  He licked the side of my face.  "And you can't stop me from doing it.  Can you?"

"N... no.  I'm helpless."

His eyes lit up.  "That's right.  There's nothing you can do."  He nibbled on my neck, making me exhale in surprise.   "And you're a little bit scared.  Afraid you're going to like it.  Love it." 

"Yes.  You're already getting me... excited.  Ohhh."

He nuzzled his face in my shallow cleavage.  Pulled up my top.  Lapped noisily at my nipples.  I made a soft fluttering sound and my body twitched.  He moved down to slobber all over my belly, with special attention to my navel.  Then he slid further toward the foot of the bed to lavish wet attention all over my inner thighs.  It was disgusting, to be used as part of that second bizarre wish fulfillment.  He even kissed the artificial puss. 

"I can have any part of you that I want." 

He craned his head to the side to nip at my waist with his teeth, then do the same to my hip.  Out came his tongue again, to work its way, tickling as it went, over my ribs.  He was getting his saliva all over me.  Ugh.  But what could l do?  This weird situation had reduced me to the wealthy patron's fantasy focus.  I was a rich man's plaything.

As his head came higher he once more paid unwanted homage to the ends of my tits.  It was so strange to feel my newly swollen mammary mounds moving under his ministrations.  He came further, kissing the other side of my neck before pretending he was biting and chewing it.  I was desperate to get from under the deeply involved man, but even if I did, where could I go?  There I was, barely dressed, with no body hair, carrying a pair of modest boobs and a pert butt, my face and hair looking very feminine.  And my male clothes were somewhere else, probably put away someplace in the dressing room.  I turned my head to the side, unintentionally giving him the opportunity to lick my ear.  After plenty of that, he spent several minutes licking every bit of my face, until I wanted to scream for release. 

The guy above me kept muttering between licks about ice cream, as if I my features were being served to him in a cone.  At long last he was done, and got off the bed, leaving me there in a daze, my cock tingling inside its tight prison, my balls compressed. 

"What do you think?" the one customer asked the other.  "Pretty good?"

"Real good.  I always like the new girls.  They're so... uncertain about us."

They took out their wallets.  Each produced several singles.  The guy who thought I was delicious also added a five.  The other, maybe trying to outdo him, got out a ten.  Finally, still eyeing each other, they each added a twenty.  Then they threw the bills at me, scattering them over my supine form.   As they straightened their clothes I lay there like a used whore.  One of them winked at me and the other gave a smirking smile.  Then they were gone.  I gathered the bills, hoping that, along with what I had earned on the club's floor, it would be enough to prevent me from being the low earner.  Not sure what was supposed to occur next, I got up and pulled my top back into place over those unfamiliar breasts.  Adjusted my panties and stockings.  Exited the room.  Outside I found the other two waitresses.  One's hair had been mussed a lot.  The other's cheeks were bright pink.  I tried not to think about what might have happened to them.  Except that, while I was still very upset, they both appeared content and even proud.  Taking me by my arms, they marched me to the dressing room.

I could hear Ming out on stage, telling a story with lots of sexual action in it.  But Trick and Treat were waiting for me, along with Jet. 

Treat snapped her fingers at me.  "Let's see your tips, girly."  I handed over the money and she counted it, then whistled appreciatively.  "Not bad.  But of course, it's your first night so you have to follow our tradition."  She divided the bills into what I imagined were equal amounts and handed them to the other servers.  "There you go, girls.  Now get out there so the three who went on after you can have their turn in the back rooms."

"B... but..." I protested weakly.  "You gave them my money.  That's not fair."

"Hey," Treat said, "life ain't fair."

"So now you ARE the low girl on the totem pole," Trick added.

"And that is not good," Jet said with a knowing nod.  "And I think it's my night to deliver the punishments on stage."

My mouth fell open.  I shook my head.  Jet extended her hand menacingly, long painted nails almost touching me.

"Hold on," Treat said.  "It's not to late for our Petunia.  She could be saved by a sponsor."

"A what?" I wanted to know.

Trick explained, "Some man who is willing to buy your way out of this little problem you've gotten yourself into.  He agrees to be responsible for you and -- "  She snapped her fingers.  "-- no punishment."  She turned to Jet and asked, "Did you have something special planned for Contestant Number One here?"

"Well, I just got a new sex toy and wanted to use it to give her a very penetrating experience."

That didn't sound good.  I said without thinking further, "All right.  Get me a sponsor.  Please."

"If you say so, without reading the fine print," Treat told me.  "And we do have one customer who already showed an interest in you.  He even wants to take you upstairs, to one of our fully furnished rooms, for the entire night."

"Wait!"  I held up my hands.  "I changed my mind."

"Too late," Treat informed me.  "But I think you'll like him.  His game is complete control.  Really gets off on the idea of taking some innocent and putting them into a terrible predicament.  Then doing whatever he wants, while they have no say in it.  And he also likes..."  She held a hand alongside her mouth and said in a loud stage whisper, "... sexual dominance."

"And bondage outfits," Trick said.

"Plus some very odd roleplaying," Jet concluded.

Just then, Ming rejoined us.  She grinned maliciously when she saw me.  They brought her up to date on my situation.  The slender Asian beauty, looking like a member of a K-Pop band, got her phone off the dressing table and sent a brief text message. 

She told me, "You new Owner... I mean Sponsor... will be here in a minute."

"You can't do this.  Can't hand me over to some man who wants to play sick games all night.  And to... do things to me.  As if I was a -- " The word stuck in my throat.  " -- sissy."

"Well," Ming said confidently, "if you aren't now, by the time he's done with you, maybe you will be."  She giggled. 

A curtain in the back of the room was pulled aside and my Sponsor strode in with total confidence.  He was tall and imposing.  And familiar.  The man who now possessed me was also my boss, Mr. Jameson."

He grinned and said, "Hello, Peter.  Or I should say Petunia.  This is something I've been planning for quite a while.  Glad it worked out so well.  Now let's get to our room.  I have so much I want to do with you."

Taking my bare shoulders he turned me toward the curtain he had appeared through.  Then he gave me a hard swat on my pantie clad sitter.  I stumbled forward on my bejeweled sandals, knowing that by morning I would be a changed man.  Or maybe not a man at all.