Lexy Becomes Herself

When I come out of the shower, just like Max promised, he's put some clothes out for me on the guest room bed. But I'm shocked by what he's laid out. I thought maybe shorts and a t-shirt - normal guy clothes! Instead, it's panties and a little lacy, frilly nightie.

My first reaction is shock, anger, even fear. What kind of game is this? What is he doing? I remember what he said when he sent me off to the shower: "I think I have some clothes that might fit you, but they're probably not exactly your usual style."

And I get that his own clothes wouldn't fit me. He's way bigger than me - over six feet, with a bulky, muscular frame. Meanwhile I've always been a skinny, small-boned guy. I had to practically crane my neck to look up at him. So I get that his shorts might have fallen right off me. But this...I mean, I can't wear this girly stuff.

I should just wrap a towel around my waist, go down and tell him that's not really my jam, he's going to have to produce something else for me to wear. That's all.

But looking at the silky, lacy outfit...look, it's a weird feeling, being out here in this house in the middle of the woods, no ties, no one I know, just this almost total stranger. When I left home today I had no plan at all, I just knew I needed to get away from my shitty stepdad. Our family didn't have the money to pay for college, so after I graduated high school I just...stayed there, while my stepdad got increasingly nasty during his days-long drinking binges. He was threatening to get violent when I finally left. But I had no real plan - and when it started pouring, I got pretty desperate. I had no idea what I was going to do. So when Max stopped and picked me up, in his big fancy car, and offered to let me stay the night...well, it was a relief. He was so confident, so authoritative, it was easy to just agree with everything he said. He seemed to take control immediately - and I desperately needed someone to take control.

He drove out to a beautiful house, almost a mansion, on a lake way off in the woods. I'd never been in a house this nice before. I was hunched up in his foyer, trying not to drip too much on his expensive-looking wood floor, and he laughed and told me to take a shower.

And that brings us up to this outfit.

I don't feel like I'm in danger - I don't get that vibe from Max. Powerful, sure, in charge, but not malicious. It's more that I feel like I'm in a little private, secret world with him. No one knows I'm here. We're so far away from where I used to live. It feels like an alternate dimension populated by just me and Max.

No one will ever know what we do in this private dimension.

And when I look at those panties, that little nightie, a little whim comes into my head. I'll go down and tell him I need different clothes...but what if I tried these on first? Just try them on. Just curious. How would I look?

I slip the panties up over my butt and look at myself in a floor-length mirror. They look cute on my ass, I have to say. I shave my body - it started for swim team, and then I just kept doing it - and my butt has a nice curve to it. The bulge in front isn't great. I try tucking it between my legs - that's how they do it, right? Tucking it back? It's not very comfortable.

I slip the nightie on next, and it feels dangerous and thrilling. The effect really isn't bad. The truth is I've always had slightly feminine features, and my long hair - meant to make me look edgy - just makes me look even more like a girl. It's still damp, a little messy - dirty blonde wavy hair that looks darker when it's wet, clinging around my face and neck. In this outfit, everything seems to work together to make me look feminine.

The truth is, I like it. It's just...there's this mixture of emotions that's heady. A little shame, of course, a feeling of emasculation.

I'm not an idiot. I know there might be a reason Max wants me like this. And I know there's a worst case scenario here, of course. He could serial kill me. He could try to get me to...do things. (My mind stops, as though too prudish to truly imagine what sorts of things.) But I don't get dangerous vibes from him. There's a little intimidating authority, but I didn't sense anything furtive or cruel. Maybe he thinks younger guys dressed like girls are hot, maybe he'll check out my butt, I don't know, but...if I start to feel uncomfortable, I'll just say I'm tired and go to bed in the guest room. It won't be a big deal.

And besides, I...want him to see me like this. It feels like it doesn't count, in a way, unless someone else sees me. It's our own little private dimension, right? I'll dress like this, just this one time. Max and no one else can see me like this, just this one time. It'll be our little secret.

It's funny, as I leave the room and walk down the stairs: it feels like I'm walking like a girl. Some shift in my posture. Dressing like this changes the way I feel about myself. And when Max looks up at me, I blush like a girl. His eyes go up and down my body, and I can see he likes it. In his smile, in the way he keeps looking and looking...

"Not my usual style, but they fit okay." I laugh, trying to sound casual, like this is no big deal, but the laugh comes out more like a giggle.

"You look cute," says Max. He's got a light tone to his voice, and I can't tell for sure if he's just making a casual joke to put me at ease, or if he really, really means I'm cute. It makes me blush even harder, though.

He pats the couch next to him. There's room for me to sit further away, but he indicates right next to him, close enough to touch. "Have a seat. I was about to watch a movie, if you want to join."

I'm very conscious of my legs, as I walk over. They're smooth, and I think they look nice. I'm even more conscious of my panties, though. The nightie is so short that when I walk, it rides up to flash my underwear.

I sit down and he casually throws an arm around me, sort of forcing me to lean into him. Already, I feel like he's treating me like a girl. It's a weird mix of parental and boyfriend. He's so much bigger than me; I could imagine being his daughter, cuddling with my dad as we watch TV. That scene fills me with a curious, wistful feeling of safety. But it could just as easily be a guy on the third date, pulling me closer, both of us knowing that at some point we'll stop watching...

I'm trying to figure out if it makes me uncomfortable. I mean, it does. This is all so new, and I'm not a girl, and it's hard to relax. I'm alert for the slightest odd movement from Max. For him to get rough, or mean.

As if sensing my fears, he leans down so his face is close to my ear. "You don't have to worry about anything," he says softly. "You're safe with me. I won't make you do anything you don't want to do." He puts a finger under my chin and tilts my head so I have to look him in the eyes. Suddenly his face is so close to mine, in my personal space, too close, but I don't pull away. I keep flicking my eyes down to his lips. I know I shouldn't, but I can't help it. "You really do look pretty, though," he says. "Do you feel pretty?"

"Yes," I squeak out, barely more than a whisper.

And then he kisses me.

It feels totally different, his kiss. I've only ever kissed girls before (and not too many of those). He's bigger, taller; I have to tilt my head up to reach him. He's in control. His hand in my hair, holding me. His tongue pushing into my mouth - not much, and not for long. More than anything, it's the feeling that I'm not kissing; I'm being kissed. He's in charge of how this goes. I let out a little high-pitched moan of confusion and trepidation and...and I guess arousal, too.

"You've never been with a guy, have you?" he whispers, and his lips go to my ear...down to my neck.

"No. I'm...I'm straight," I stammer. I know that sounds ridiculous given that I'm currently wearing panties and a nightie and making out with an older man, but I've always identified as straight. And to be honest...in some weird kind of way, this doesn't feel gay. It feels like something else.

He smiles. His hand is on my hip - not quite on my butt, but close. "You look straight," he says. "You look like a straight girl."

Maybe that's why this feels different, I realize. I don't feel like a guy doing gay stuff--I feel like a girl. And when I feel feminine like this, it just makes sense that he should kiss me, that he should put his hands on me, that he should be attracted to me. I don't say anything; I don't know what I'd say. But I let out a little gasp when he kisses me behind my ear.

He presses, though. He must want to hear me say it. "Do you feel like a girl?" he breathes into my ear, and I squeak back:

"Yes."

"Do you want me to treat you like a girl?"

I tense up. "I mean, I don't know how - how far I want to go." Does he want to fuck me? I couldn't...I glance down and realize he's hard. He's only wearing thin pajama pants, and I can see the outline of his cock. It's big and intimidating. I can't wrap my head around the idea of it being aimed at me. There's a wild, electric zing of excitement, but it's buried under layer after layer of trepidation and shame.

He catches me looking. "It's okay. We'll go slow. Nothing you don't want to do. But you can see I'm turned on by you, can't you?"

I nod.

"Reach down and see how it feels. No commitment, but I bet you're curious, aren't you? It's probably bigger than yours. Go ahead and explore." He's right. It's considerably bigger than mine. I'm not well-endowed; it's not a micropenis or anything, but it's on the smaller side. He's not porn star huge, either, but I feel like he's probably on the bigger side.

And his cock does feel different. Just like a different type of thing than my own cock. Thicker, more substantial. I barely even register that I've obeyed him, reached down and gently stroked my fingers up and down it. I squeeze gently and he catches his breath. "That feels nice," he whispers. He's still kissing my neck. His hand has definitely wandered onto my butt now. I move my hand up and down, gripping him as lightly as I can through his pants. Jerking him off. I can't believe I'm doing it. What if I make him cum?

He reaches down, lifts his butt up, and pulls down his pants before I can really even react, and suddenly his cock is out, pointing straight up at my face, glistening with a bit of precum at the tip, looking even bigger than it felt. "I'll give you better access."

He keeps doing things without asking, I realize. Pushing me. Or maybe just guiding me. Because the truth is, if he asked me about any of this I would say no. Do you want to touch my cock? I would have felt I had to say no.

I need him to tell me to do it. I don't mind what we're doing. It's hard to deny that I'm turned on by it, given the little tent sticking up in my panties, through my nightie. I like it, but I'm too embarrassed to admit it. I need him to give me orders.

"Put your hand back on it," he says quietly, and I obey.

I'm still leaning into him, my head on his shoulder. He's leaning back on the couch. I'm looking directly down at his cock while I stroke it up and down. I've stopped pretending I might not give him a handjob. I suddenly realize that if he were to cum right now, it would hit me in the face. I'll have to find something, if it seems like he's going to cum, a tissue or something to block it with. Maybe I'll take off my panties, if he seems like he wants me to finish, use them, maybe he'd like that. I realize that I'm already thinking about what to do when he cums. Inside, I've already decided I'm going to make him cum, if he wants me to.

But he wants more than a handjob. "Put it in your mouth, sweetheart," he whispers.

I gasp. I think part of me must have known he would want this, but I couldn't allow myself to think about it.

The rush of shame I feel when he tells me to do it...blowjobs are so demeaning. I've always thought that. I haven't asked for them, from the few girlfriends I've had; I felt like it was disrespectful. And they rarely offered. I know they feel amazing, but for a girl to work so hard to give a man pleasure - to put his cock in her mouth, so she can't even talk - it's so slutty. And especially to cum in her mouth, that must be absolutely humiliating for the girl.

And now here I am, lowering my face down towards it. I don't even know if I really want to. I feel pressured. If I were to say no, it would be awkward. I've already turned him on; don't I have an obligation to follow through? Would a stronger person say no? Wouldn't a stronger person have said no right away, as soon as he saw this outfit? What if Max can tell I'm weak, can tell I won't stand up for myself, and he's preying on me.

Even as my mind is whirling, as shame overtakes me...I open my mouth, squeezing my eyes shut, bend over, and take his cock in.

He lets out a long sigh. "Good girl," he says quietly. "Good girl. Suck on it. That feels nice. What a sweet girl you are."

There's an intense rush of humiliation as my lips close around Max's cock. An almost overwhelming sense of shame. But right along with it comes an intoxicating excitement, a thrill that feels electric. I freeze for a moment, just trying to process the fact that I have a man's cock in my mouth. It feels like I've crossed a point of no return. From teasing to sex. We're having sex now. I can't pretend it's just playing around or teasing anymore. It's really happening. If I tried to back out now, he'd be mad - and rightfully so.

I suck gently, not moving my head too much, just trying to get used to it. It feels really big in my mouth. My lips wrapped around it. I'm using my tongue on the underside as I suck. My hand is still around it, too, and I keep slowly stroking it as I suck. Jerking him off into my mouth.

It feels even bigger than it looked. Muscular and warm. A drop of precum hits my tongue, salty, and I automatically swallow.

I feel the obligation to make him feel good, but I realize he doesn't seem interested in making me feel good. That hasn't come up at all. Like he just assumes that anything that happens tonight will be for his pleasure, not mine. That's humiliating, too. He's not just treating me like a girl, but like a cheap girl.

But I like it this way, if I'm honest. I'm unbelievably turned on, but I would be uncomfortable if he touched me down there. It would feel wrong. I want to pretend I don't even have a cock. What I'm doing now makes me feel like a girl, and that's how I want it. I want to leave what's between my legs out of this completely. I want this to be all about him.

"Get on your knees," he whispers, and I slide off the couch onto the floor between his legs. I look up at him, blushing and shy, almost too embarrassed to make eye contact, but his eyes find mine and lock into place. "I like a girl to be on her knees when she sucks my cock," he says. It's wild listening to him talk dirty to me. It adds to how it makes me feel. Slutty, I guess. Degraded. If I let myself see what's happening right now - that this man old enough to be my father has dressed me up in panties and a nightie and ordered me to my knees to suck his cock - it's unbelievably humiliating. And I do feel that, I feel humiliated. But it's mixed in with excitement in a weird and powerful way. I'm so aroused. I'm not sure I've ever been this turned on.

"Do you like how it feels to be on your knees, sweetheart?"

"Yes sir," I whisper, and put his cock back in my mouth.

I've licked my lips to make them as wet as I can before going down, and I start to suck for real now, bobbing my head up and down on him. I put my hands on his thighs. I go down as far as I can, until he hits the back of my throat and I gag softly. I try holding him there for as long as I can. It's about two thirds of the way in. I don't know if I can do the thing where it goes down my throat. It feels pretty weird when it just hits the back of my throat a little. I hope two thirds is enough. I go back up to the tip, using my tongue more when just the head is in my mouth, and then plunge back again.

He puts his hand in my long hair and holds me steady, impaled on his cock; holding me firm like that, he stands up and looms over me. I have to get up on my knees to stay with him. He pulls my head back by my hair so I have to look up at him, still with the tip of his cock in my mouth. I back up a tiny bit on my knees, so I'm in a better position. "Is this your first time sucking cock, baby?" he asks.

I nod. He's so tall. I feel like I'm looking way, way up at him. "Mm-hmm."

"You're doing great. It feels really good. Go back to work, baby."

And I do. I try to keep my lips wet so I slide easily up and down on his dick. I bob back and forth at a steady rhythm. Every few strokes I try to go deeper, to take him down my throat a little; I choke every time, making an embarrassing noise. But I can get him a little ways down into my esophagus. A little.

He holds eye contact as I gag. "Is it embarrassing?" he asks. "Do you find it emasculating to be on your knees with my dick in your mouth, sweetheart?"

I freeze. Somehow it almost feels more embarrassing to admit that I'm embarrassed than the embarrassing thing was in the first place. But eventually, blushing, I nod again. "Mm-hmm."

"Good girl," he says. "That's sexy to me. The moment when you first surrender to your femininity, that's the sexiest moment in the world for me, and it's happening to you right now. This is your first time feeling like this, right?"

"Mm-hmm."

"I bet you like it, don't you?"

"Mm-hmm." I sound desperate, moaning my agreement while I suck his dick, but I feel desperate. Desperate to keep exploring how it feels to me. It's okay if he knows how much I like it. He wants that. I gag myself on his cock to show him how much I like it.

"Good girl," he smiles. "That's what I want. Tonight, right now, I want to make you into my girl. You can go back to your old life tomorrow, if you like. Any time you want. Maybe this will just be a little experiment, and you'll go back to your old life soon. Maybe you'll want to stay like this for a while. But right now, it's making you feel good to be my girl. I can sense that it's shameful to you, too, humiliating, and I really get off on that. That's so hot for me. I like the humiliation. That's part of the kink, for me. Do you understand what I mean?"

I nod. It hadn't occurred to me that shame might be something anyone would find sexy, but I feel it. I find it sexy too. I try to pull back a little so I can talk, but his grip tightens in my hair and he holds me there, his cock about halfway inside me, not quite touching the back of my throat but filling my mouth completely.

"I know you like it too," he says. "It's okay. It's not uncommon to be turned on by shame. It's one of the biggest kinks. There are lots of sweet girls like you, who are aroused by it. Are you one of those girls, honey? Do you find it sexy to be humiliated?"

I hesitate again, and then nod. "Mm-hmm."

He smiles and strokes my face. "I knew it right away. I knew you would love being treated like this." He pulls me down a little further, the tip of his cock tickling the back of my throat uncomfortably, and then holds me again. It's uncomfortable, and I feel tears start to my eyes. He won't let me go, though. "I'm going to cum in your mouth, do you understand?"

I nod.

"You're going to swallow every little bit of it. Aren't you?"

I nod. The realization that he's going to do that to me - what I'd previously thought was the most degrading thing a man can do to a girl, he's about to do it to me, and I'm going to let him. I'm going to work for it, I'm going to try my hardest to make him feel good just so he can do that to me, so he can cum in my mouth, and then I'm going to swallow. I feel drowned in shame, a dangerous and dizzy humiliation.