Fort Benning Georgia, 1949

Sergeant William Brody was recalled stateside in 1949. The Army had downsized but Bill had performed well, had distinguished himself in battle and had risen to the rank of Staff Sergeant. The Army was rebuilding. US citizens were afraid of ‘Reds under the bed’ and there was sabre-rattling in Korea.

Bill was assigned to the Infantry School at Fort Benning as a senior Drill Sergeant. Farewelling Heidi Baumgartner in Berlin had been emotional but they both knew that their relationship was temporary. As much as he cared for her, there was no way that Bill was bringing Heidi back to the USA. He cherished her company deeply but every time he saw her son he was reminded of Heidi lying on that bed in the basement under the Russian Command Post servicing an endless stream of Russian soldiers.

Bill never really settled into the peacetime Army and took solace at the local bars and whorehouses but maintained his discipline and exemplary behaviour. All was fine and Bill was looking forward to another posting to a combat unit when Madeline Drinkwater entered his life.

Lieutenant Madeline Drinkwater graduated from the WAC Training Centre Fort Lee in December 1948 with one goal in mind: to marry a senior officer who was going places. Women were being recruited into the regular Army to fill non-combat positions to release men for front-line service. Lieutenant Drinkwater was posted to Fort Benning as an Administration Officer and appointed OIC of the Personnel Office.

Madeline was popular and was chased by most of the line officers at the post but she wasn’t interested in any of the young bucks. She was looking for a full-bird Colonel at least and she had her eye on a few. Her cause would not be helped if she gained a reputation as a ‘bed jumper’ so she behaved herself publicly.

Privately Madeline had a penchant for rough trade, not the fresh-faced young officers and soldiers who were in the majority at Fort Benning.

Staff Sergeant William Brody was just the type she was looking for: a highly decorated combat veteran who was ruggedly handsome, mature and physically fit. She’d seen him in his tight-fitting uniform with his ‘Brown Round’ campaign hat and spit polished boots and she got wet just looking at him.

Madeline was big-breasted, slim-waisted, wide-hipped, long-legged and was incredibly pretty with flaming red hair, full pouty lips, high cheekbones and deep green eyes. Her ‘pinks and greens’ did not conform to the dress manual but no one was going to complain or tell her to dress by the book. Her dress of the day was a forest-green coat tailored to fit her figure with a contrasting light olive-drab coloured skirt with a slight pinkish hue. She wore her skirt just above her knees which was contrary to regulations. The Army issued her beige nylon hosiery and brown leather shoes with low heels but she wore fifteen denier fully fashioned stockings with kitten-heel brown pumps that she purchased herself.

Bill Brody took an instant dislike to Lieutenant Drinkwater. It wasn’t that he believed that women had no place in the Army; in fact he thought the opposite. He’d been impressed by the work carried by the Women's Auxiliary Army Corps in Berlin. But Madeline Drinkwater carried herself with a swagger she didn’t deserve. She’d been in the Woman’s Army Corps less than a dog watch yet she talked like a veteran and was an obvious dilettante.

Lieutenant Drinkwater accepted Bill Brody’s aloofness and hostility as a challenge. When Bill rejected her advances she bombarded him with busywork; a seemingly endless river of paperwork which Bill hated. She found excuses for him to have to report to her office, usually on the pretext of reviewing one of the recruit’s personnel files. These subtle advances were rejected however so Madeline hatched a plan that was a little less subtle. What Madeline wanted Medline got!

Staff Sergeant Brody got the word that he was required to report to the OIC of the Personnel Office at 1830 on Friday when he was freshly showered and shaved and wearing his dress uniform ready for a night on the town. He knew that it would be more busywork involving a pointless review of some jar-head’s personnel file. The rest of the NCOs had left for town when Bill stormed across the parade ground to the Administration Building.

The building was deserted. Being Friday evening the married men were home with their families and the single guys were blowing off steam in the dens of iniquity in Phenix City. The only light came from under the OIC’s office. Bill could smell Madeline's perfume as soon as he walked down the corridor.

When he entered it was if she had staged the encounter, which she had. Madeline had one of her long legs stretched out, her foot on the desk, her skirt hiked up and she was stroking the wrinkles out of her stocking. Her skirt had ridden up her thighs and Bill guessed that those translucent white nylon panties through which he could see her trimmed pubic hair were not regulation.

“Sorry Sergeant, I just can’t keep the wrinkles out of these damn nylons or keep my seams straight. The Army buys such cheap hosiery,” Madeline said by way of explanation as if it was perfectly normal for a female officer to be showing off her undergarments to an enlisted man in a deserted office.

Bill stood at parade rest and admired Madeline’s long coltish leg. She might be an opportunist who was in only the Army to catch herself a trophy husband but she was one sexy woman.

Madeline put her foot down but her skirt remained rucked up on her thighs but she pretended not to notice. Bill also noticed that she’d taken off her jacket and tie and that her shirt was unbuttoned at the neck exposing her décolletage.

“I'm sorry to have to bring you in on a Friday evening but there are some anomalies in these personnel records that we need to address. It could take us quite a while,” Madeline tapped a red-lacquered manicured fingernail on a stack of files and smiled at him wickedly.

Bill had had enough; it was time to get this over with. The bitch wanted to taste a battle-hardened veteran then let her have it and then she might leave him in peace.

“I don’t think we are going to do anything of the sort Ma’am,” Bill sidled up to Madeline and unbuttoned his fly and freed a burgeoning erection.

“What the hell are you doing Sergeant?” Madeline pretended that she was shocked.

She looked at the long thick veiny weapon and licked her lips in anticipation; her panties already damp.

By way of an answer Bill put his hand on the back of Madeline’s head and pushed her face into his groin. She opened her lips and took the proffered phallus in her mouth. Bill looked down at her pretty face, her red lipsticked-lips drawn along his sleek shaft as she suckled him. She worked her tongue on his glans and Bill’s penis grew to full tumescence.

Her mouth was warm and wet and she was good. He could smell her perfume and he saw that she was stroking her cunt through her transparent panties while she sucked his cock. The musk of her sex rose to his nose and he inhaled it and sighed. He enjoyed the feel of her red lips on his cock, her tongue tickling his fraenulum. He gently placed his other hand on her head and guided her face up and down on his big cock.

Madeline had sucked her fair share of cocks but this one was exquisite. Straight from the shower it was clean and tasted a little of Lifebuoy soap and his body smelled of Old Spice aftershave. It helped that Bill was ruggedly handsome and had been elusive. Now that she had him in her mouth she intended to enjoy him. She slavered at his cock whilst she tickled her labia through her silky panties. Her clitoris was distended and ached to be touched but she denied herself that privilege so that she could prolong the encounter.

She took her hand out of her lap and worked at Bill’s belt, unbuckling it and dropping his trousers down around his polished boots. His briefs followed and Madeline was able to cup Bill Brody’s substantial scrotum while she sucked his cock. She stroked his sac and manipulated his testes gently, inducing ringlets of pleasure which combined with the deep carnal delights emanating from his penis. She could feel Bill’s cock trembling in her mouth and guessed that he was about to climax.

Madeline spat out Bill’s penis and leapt to her feet and Bill pulled her in close and kissed her. Her lipstick tasted decadent and wanton, her breath was sweet, her mouth wet and warm. Their tongues intertwined as they groped at each other. Bill’s hand went under her skirt and found her pubis swathed in diaphanous nylon panties that were wet with her secretions. He teased her labia through the gauzy fabric and Medline whimpered into his mouth and squeezed his cock in her soft hand.

He pressed her against the desk, her buttocks resting on the edge as it cut into her ass. She hopped up and Bill helped her so that she was sitting on the desk with her arms draped around Bill kissing him passionately. He groped at her blouse and freed her breasts and she guided his mouth to them. The flesh was soft and creamy, her teats like ripe berries. He lapped at her tits and took her nipples in his mouth and suckled and nipped them gently with his teeth causing Madeline to shudder and groan as waves of pleasure radiated from her bosom.

Madeline wrapped her stocking-sheathed limbs around Bill and pulled him closer and he delighted in the feel of her silky nylons on his flesh. These were no Army issue nylons she was wearing; they were expensive sheer and sexy stockings and he loved them. He ran his hands up and down them as he nursed at her breasts and she delighted in the feel of the Sergeant’s rough hands on her limbs and his lips and teeth on her sensitive teats.

Bill opened Madeline’s labia and was stroking her clitoris through her saturated panties. Fiery circlets of delight spread from her sex into her belly. Bill’s hand stroking her legs was evoking deep sensual feelings and his fingers thrummed her clitty through panties wringing forth wave after wave of pleasure. She tore his face from her bosom and kissed him and he returned the kiss ferociously.

His cock was hard and pulsing in her hand, she could feel the steeliness of it, the manliness of it, the dangerousness of it. She wanted it inside of her.

Madeline opened her legs wide and guided Bill’s cock to her panty-clad mound and eased aside the silky gusset and nestled the head of his penis in her labia. Bill pushed forward and his cock lid into her sultry tight tunnel.

They both moaned into each other’s mouths. Bill’s hand went to her breasts and he tweaked her nipples as he slowly worked his cock in and out of her warm clammy quim. Madeline wriggled her buttocks so that Bill could get all of it inside her and also so that his pubis pressed on her clitoris. She wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his torso and let him fuck her.

Being fucked brutally by this manly hero was so much better than the foppish West Pointers who treated her like a porcelain doll. She ripped open his blouse and raked her nails down his chest and her heels down his flanks then she pulled him closer, her silky stockinged limbs caressing his grazed flesh.

Bill liked that she was rough. He didn’t like the woman and the coarser their coupling the better as far as he was concerned. He bit her lip and tweaked her nipples harder, then grazed his fingernails down her breasts. Madeline howled as the stinging pain combined with the lecherous pleasure radiating from her tits and her cunt. She bit him back and smashed her cunt into him, scratching him, encouraging him it ravish her.

He moved his hands to her legs and held them apart and began to fuck her hard and fast, staring into her burning green eyes. He hated this bitch and fucking her like the slattern that she was gave him more pleasure than he thought it would. Her cunt clung to his cock as he thrust is in out of her tight passage. It was like her cunt was reluctant to release his shaft from its tight grip.

“You fucking animal!” Madeline hissed; her eyes bright with lust.

Bill raked his fingers down her legs laddering her stockings and scalding her flesh. She reached for him and brought his face to hers so she could kiss him violently as her orgasm began to build. She wrapped her legs around him and lifted her ass off the desk to meet his thrusts and she sensed that he was close to extremis.

Bill battered her bruised cunt with his aching cock as it began to spew his scalding issue deep inside her. Madeline screamed obscenities around Bill’s kisses, calling him a barbarian and a hoodlum and a predator as her orgasm exploded in a mighty bloom of carnal delight and coursed through her whole body.

And that was when the MPs entered the room.

Madeline cried rape and Bill’s defence was laughed at by the jury members and the military judge. Bill Brody’s defending counsel was atrociously ill prepared and ineffective at the court martial. Madeline presented as a ‘peaches and cream’ ingénue: an attractive, inexperienced young officer who knew so little of the world at large and of the Army particularly. She was easily overpowered by her brutish subordinate as she worked alone in her office that night.

She presented each day very demure, her uniform worn exactly as per regulations and makeup toned down. She cried a lot and made goo-goo eyes at the Judge Advocate, a grey-haired Colonel who she knew was about to make Brigadier General and take up a position in the Pentagon. They would later marry and she would bear him two spoiled brats.

The scratches on her body, her bruised lips and bitten nipples were evidence enough of rape; not to mention her torn clothing and battered vagina. She had defended her virtue valiantly as was evident by the bruises and scratches she had inflicted on Staff Sargent Brody’s body.

The MPs testified that the Staff Sergeant had forced the Lieutenant onto the desk and was holding her down and was raping her while she struggled beneath him and screamed obscenities at him because that was what they thought they saw. During their rounds they had heard Madeline howling and moaning with anguish and she had cried rape when they burst through the door to her office.

Bill didn’t stand a chance and was sentenced to fifteen years at the United States Military Prison, Fort Leavenworth with no hope of parole.

*****

Villawood Montana, 1959

The bullying started six months into the experiment.

Flagg read the men’s diaries every Monday and was pleased with how the Study was progressing. The six men had created their own hierarchy led by William Brody. Bill allowed the men some freedom, letting them wear civilian clothes, live in their own houses, use their first names but he still maintained discipline and structure.

There was friction between Brody and Flintock but that was to be expected as they were both alpha males but Brody maintained his position as the person in charge and exercised his superiority by issuing orders through his ‘company clerk’ Wesley Meakins.

Meakins had assumed some superiority by association, being Brody’s ‘Girl Friday’ which was an interesting choice of words given what Flagg knew about Meakins and the other subjects didn’t. But he was despised by the others for toadying up to Bill Brody.

Flintock and Benning had bonded because of their technical skills and looked down on the others because they were specialists who provided essential services and the others were expendable as far as Flintock and Benning were concerned. Meakins and Steele were considered the lowest in the pecking order because of their roles as clerk and nurse. Snitterman was a good cook which was good for morale but being a clerk was a function that anyone could perform and Steele’s medical prowess was seldom needed although he tended to cuts and bruises and coughs and colds and had once had to stitch up a deep gash on Benning’s forearm.

Whenever menial tasks were required to be completed they fell to Steele and Meakins even though Brody had directed that the tasks should be shared equally. Brody had become broody and aloof. He joined the men for meals and for drinks in the Copperlode Bar but during the day he remained cool and distant.

The men were doing an excellent job maintaining the town and were enjoying their new found but limited freedom. As Flagg had expected, independence and liberty came at a cost. The men enjoyed all the luxuries of free men with the exception of female companionship.

Staff Sergeant Brody had requested that ‘women of ill repute’, meaning prostitutes, be provided now and then but Flagg refused. Part of the study was to see how the men would survive living in isolation with limited freedom but with no means of sexual release.

Flagg also knew that Brody was reading the diaries before they were submitted and he had no real problem with that and as far as Flagg could tell the entries had not been edited or censored. The men expressed their gratitude for the freedoms they had, their secret resentment and jealousies for each other and their anguish at not being able to enjoy the comfort of an intimate other. This was made all the worse by the way Villawood was presented to them.

There was evidence of the fairer sex everywhere: the mannequins in the department store, his and hers ablutions in public places, a playground for children, female clothing and accoutrements in the store. The magazines and lingerie catalogues had been passed around and were now tattered and torn. Flagg refused Brody’s request for more. He wanted the men totally isolated from the outside world but with total freedom inside the fence that separated them form society and emancipation.

Brody had requested the men’s Personnel files and after some rumination Flagg had acquiesced. He wanted to see what Brody would do with the information contained therein.

As for the six inmates, life conformed to their established routines of work, rest, exercise, meals and drinking at the Copperlode Bar in the evenings, telling war stories and embellishing their sexual exploits and of course wishing they had female companionship. Tales of loose women and of girls who had offered their virtue for some scant reward during the war were oft repeated. The men encouraged Brody and Flintock to tell their tales of comfort women and women of pleasure. The idea of having women kept solely for pleasure was intriguing.

Everything changed the day the men went to the department store one Saturday afternoon. The men had been drinking in the Copperlode Bar and someone had suggested that they go to the store to get some new clothes as the ones they were wearing were six months old. Their clothing was clean and pressed, Brody insisted on it, but it was becoming threadbare.

That was another menial task that had fallen on Sam Steele. He had been delegated the task of laundryman as well as having to tend bar in the evenings and weekends.

The men entered the store and the first thing they were confronted with was the two mannequins. The lifelike dolls were a blessing and curse. They were a blessing because they were the only representation of femininity in Villawood and a curse because they reminded the men of what they were missing.

As they stood staring drunkenly at the two lifelike dummies Buddy Flintock remembered what Wesley Meakins had said to Sam Steele the first time they had entered the store.

“You still think Sam could fit into that suit?” Buddy pointed to the blonde haired, long-legged, big-breasted and slim hipped mannequin wearing the dark pencil-skirted suit.

“With a little help I’m sure he could,” Wesley giggled.

“Oh come on guys knock it off,” Sam dismissed the comment as a jibe and started to walk towards the men’s clothing section.

Victor Benning stepped in front of Sam and blocked his way.

Sam was slightly built, his voice high pitched and almost effeminate. During boot camp he struggled with PT and battlefield training and had been assigned to the medical corps.

“I reckon you could fill that suit nicely,” Victor pushed Sam in the chest towards the mannequin.

“What do you mean with a little help?” Buddy turned to Wesley.

“Well she’d have to put on a wig and some makeup otherwise she’d just be a man in a dress,” Wesley sniggered.

Victor produced a hip flask, took a slug and passed it to Buddy who took a swallow.

“Don’t call me ‘she’! You're the fucking Girl Friday!” Sam sniped at Wesley.

“And I’m not putting on the fucking suit!” Sam wailed.

It may have been Sam’s bellicose attitude, it was certainly the alcohol but it was also a need to bully intimidate that fired Buddy’s resolve to force Sam to wear the suit.

“You're wearing the fucking suit Sam!” Buddy growled.

“Who wants to see Sam wear the suit?” Buddy asked drunkenly.

Victor went along with everything that Buddy did, Wesley was a toady who pretended he was someone special because he worked directly for Brody but the others knew he was a cowardly wuss. Dale Snitterman was the closest that Sam had as a friend but seeing Sam being bullied by the others meant that he was being left alone so he joined the bullies.

They all raised their hands.

“Sergeant! Stop this idiocy please,” Sam turned to Bill Brody and begged.

Bill had little time for any of them but he’d read their diaries and had their personnel files and knew them all intimately. He should have put a stop to it but he found the situation amusing.

“Put the fucking suit on Nurse Steele,” Brody took out his own hip flask and took a slug.

“You guys are joking right? Sergeant? Surely you're joking?” Sam could sense the situation was getting out of hand.

He’d been the butt of their jokes for some time now but this was really going too far.

“Wesley! Help me! Convince your boss that this is just plain ridiculous,” Sam turned to Wesley for help.

“Wesley? You mean fucking Wendy. You can help Sam get into that fucking suit and then you can put on that dress. Then you two ladies can come back to the Copperlode and serve us real men some drinks and snacks,” Brody chuckled and the others joined in.

Except for Wesley Meakins.

He had suddenly become pale and was speechless. Staff Sergeant Brody had called him Wendy. How did he know about Wendy?

Bill Brody turned to Wesley Meakins and hauled him by the collar.

“I know all about you Wendy; now git to gettin’ sissified with your girlfriend here,” Brody hissed in Wesley’s ear but the others overheard and were very interested.

“What’s the story Sarge? Why’d you call Meakins Wendy?” Victor Benning asked.

“Let’s go back to the bar boys and I’ll tell you all about it. You two ladies better show up wearing those fucking clothes or else I’ll beat you into them,” Bill hissed at Sam and Wesley and stormed off followed by the others leaving Sam and Wesley alone in store.

Sam couldn’t believe what was happening. What had he done to infuriate Bill Brody? The others had been teasing him for weeks now and he was used to it but why had Bill turned on him? And what was the story with Wesley Meakins who stood there looking totally dejected.

*****

Majuro Atoll, Marshall Islands - North Pacific, 1944

Wesley Meakins knew that he was gay as soon as he entered adolescence. He’d been an average student and found employment as a bank clerk when he left school with no real ambition other than to live a comfortable life and keep his homosexuality in the closet except for when he met up with his friends at Newport, Rhode Island on the weekends.

He and his friends all stayed at the same hotel which tolerated gay men. Wesley frequented the Pink Parrot nightclub where he performed as a drag queen to supplement his income. Being effete and quite the accomplished mimic, singer and actor Wesley performed as the drag queen Wendy Wayne three nights a week.

When the United States entered the war Wesley wanted to do his part but did not fancy storming beaches or being shelled in a foxhole and so he joined the USN as a clerk. His good fortune prevailed and he was posted to USS Polari an auxiliary repair ship which spent most of its time anchored in Pacific island lagoons following the battle fleet but out of harm’s way.

Being far away at sea USS Polari became a heterotopic space where some men sought the companionship of others. Despite official prohibitions of such behaviour the CO turned a blind eye provided the men carried out their duties to the best of their abilities. The ship was required to remain away from port for extended periods as it was a vital element supporting the fleet and the crew worked long hours under harsh conditions and had little to do in the way of recreation.

The tradition of dressing as women for entertainment, including theatre shows, was more common on ships on boringly long inactive voyages than it was in the army or air force. Wesley Meakins let Wendy Wayne out of the closet and dragged up for concert parties in a troupe of three. He impersonated the singer Ann Sheridan and his two shipmates were Rita Hayworth and Katharine Hepburn.

The ship’s company was amused by the three crossdressers who were very good at their art of female impersonation. The crews of other warships tied up alongside the Polari for periods of maintenance and repair would come on board and attend performances, the sailors eager for any distraction from the long periods of boredom broken by short periods of terror which constituted war at sea.

It was a loose secret that the ‘sea queens’ would offer sexual favours after the show in secluded spaces below decks and many a ‘straight’ sailor succumbed to their feminine wiles. ‘Any port in a storm’ was a phrase often uttered by men starved of female companionship and sexual gratification.

Wesley was enjoying a peaceful war until his good work got him promoted to Petty Officer and a posting to USS Antilles a Lexington Class aircraft carrier where he got a taste of the real war. But being on a ship with such a large crew there were bound to be other homosexuals and Wesley’s ‘gaydar’ soon located another sailor of the same disposition. But it was to be his undoing when a Chief Petty Officer caught the two in flagrante delicto.

Meakins was given the option of paying bribes to the bellicose Chief Petty Officer or being beaten by him and his homophobic buddies and then brought before the mast. Under great duress Wesley stole cash from the Pursers safe and doctored the books to hide his crimes. He got away with it for a while but his crimes were eventually discovered.

His defence at the court martial that he was being blackmailed by a Chief Petty Officer was not considered an excuse and most of the Board found his blatant homosexuality distasteful although some were briefly amused by his anecdotes of performing as Wendy Wayne. It did him little good however and he was sentenced to twelve years imprisonment, the harsh sentence due to the Judge Advocate’s hatred of gay men.

In Leavenworth Wesley kept his homosexuality a secret for fear of being beaten or killed by men who hated faggots although he sometimes found himself on his knees in the ablutions block fellating a bully.

Wesley’s secret life however was fully chronicled in his Personnel file and that file was now in the possession of Staff Sergeant William Brody.

*****

Villawood Montana, 1959

“What the fuck is going on Wesley; I can’t believe this is happening,” Sam stood in the middle of the department store entrance dumbfounded.

“We’re being bullied Sam, that’s what's happening,” Wesley said forlornly.

“The Sergeant knows about my past, that’s for certain,” Wesley sighed.

“Past? What past?” Sam was confused.

Wesley gave a Sam a condensed story of his exploits on board the USS Polari, leaving out the part about having sex with the sailors. He amended and edited the story explaining that he and three others and been performing drag shows on the ship to break the boredom and entertain the ships companies.

“Bill Brody has some files locked in his safe that I can’t access so I’m guessing he has our Personnel files in there,” Wesley opined.

“What has that got to do with anything?” Sam was still confused.

“Don’t you see Sam it doesn’t matter? You and I are the weaklings and those other four men are big and strong and in control and they want us to dress up like women,” Wesley sounded exasperated.

“Dale is my friend,” Sam said pouting like a spoiled child.

“Dale has joined the others. We have no friends. This place is just as bad as Leavenworth. It’s a gilded cage,” Wesley sighed.

“But why make us dress like women?” Sam was still confused.

“To bully us, to mock us, to tease us and to belittle us. It’s just another way of exerting their superiority. They want female company but can’t have it so we will be the next best thing. It was will be harmless fun. We’ll serve them drinks and prance around a bit and they’ll slap our asses and make lewd comments and then we’ll take off our makeup and dresses and everything will go back to how it was,” Wesley began to undress the mannequins, carefully putting the clothing into a shopping trolley.

“They're just blowing off steam and we’re the butt of their jokes,” Wesley reassured Sam but deep inside he didn’t think that was the case at all.

“We gotta get out of here. This is not part of the study… experiment… whatever. We gotta tell Colonel Flagg,” Sam circled the mannequins not paying attention to what Wesley was doing.

“Sam! There is one vehicle in Villawood and Bill Brody has it. There is an electrified fence surrounding the town. The only direct communication with the outside world is the emergency telephone and this ain’t yet an emergency. Now stop flapping around and come help me,” Wesley had taken the pencil-skirted suit and the fitted dress off the mannequins and put them in the cart.

Sam stopped walking in circles and looked up at the mannequins. They looked almost lewd stripped down to their underwear. He stood there gawking at them transfixed, staring at their foundation garments and nylon stockings.

“Leave the mannequins Sam and come with me,” Wesley began to push the cart into the store.

Sam followed Wesley like a loyal pet, not knowing what else to do. He was led around by Wesley who visited a number of stations in the department store and put various items into the cart. They came to the Health and Beauty department and Wesley parked the trolley and told Sam to strip.

“I beg your pardon?” Sam sounded stunned.

“Sam. I’ve got no more time to waste on you. If we don’t do what we’re told, those boys are going to come back here and as Bill Brody so eloquently put it: they will beat us into those clothes,” Wesley pointed at shopping cart.

Sam surrendered. For now at least there was no escape, nowhere to go, no one to help. He would put himself in the hands of Wesley Meakins hoping that Wesley would keep him safe. Wesley was Bill Brody’s Company Clerk so he knew secrets that the other didn’t, like what was actually in the Villawood Rules & Regulations folder that Brody refused to let the others see.

Sam stripped down to his skivvies and Wesley appraised him.

“You're small in stature but you have long legs and a decent ass, your waist is slim and your feet are small for a man. You’ve hardly any body or facial hair. There are drag queens out there who would kill to have that body; in fact there are women out there would kill to have that body if you only had tits,” Wesley studied Sam carefully.

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about Wesley,” Sam said standing there stupefied in his underpants and undershirt.

“Women's clothes fit differently Sam but I’m not going to waste time explaining to you why. I’m going to beat your face then I’m going to dress you and we’ll take it from there,” Wesley was laying out cosmetics on the counter.

“Why are you going to beat me?” Sam was disappointed that his friend was threatening him.

“It’s a drag term honey. Beating your face means putting makeup on you,” Wesley explained and Sam just nodded.

Wesley has Sam sit on a stool next to the cosmetics counter and scurried away and came back with a bowl of hot water, shaving soap and a razor. Sam sat still and allowed Wesley to shave his face.

“I’m wasting my time really; you hardly have any facial hair,” Wesley commented as he wiped away the post-shave lather from Sam’s face.

“I’m going to put up a mirror here on the counter so you can see what I’m doing and I’ll explain the process. I don’t have time to teach you but you’ll become adept with practice,” Wesley said and Sam wondered why he would day that.

Why would he become astute with practice? This was to be a onetime thing. He and Wesley would dress up as women and the others would intimidate, tease and torment them and that would be that.

Sam watched Wesley turn his handsome face into a pretty feminine face using foundation, finishing powder, eyeshadow, eyeliner mascara, rouge and lipstick. Sam was mesmerised by the process as Wesley for all intents and purposes turned him into a girl.

“We used to have saying back in the day: ‘pretty boy means pretty girl’,” Wesley said as he put the finishing touches to Sam’s face.

He took the brunette bob from the trolley, brushed it out and fitted it to Sam’s head. The transformation was complete. Looking back as Sam in the mirror was a beautiful woman with flowing shoulder-length brunette locks and bangs which highlighted the makeup complimenting her pretty green eyes.

“I don’t believe it,” Sam stared into the mirror.

“Now is the time I stop thinking of myself as ‘he’ and think of myself as ‘she’. It helps with the transformation,” Wesley explained as she began to apply cosmetics to her own face.

Sam wouldn't admit it but that was how she felt. As of right now, looking at her reflection, she thought of herself in the feminine vernacular.

“Just call me Wendy. Wendy Wayne is back in the house honey,” Wendy poked at her honey-blonde, curly bouffant updo with the spiky handle of the hairbrush, getting it to sit just right.

Wendy looked amazing too. There was no doubt that Sam was the more attractive of the two in her mind but Wendy was quite the doll. Sam didn’t understand why she felt that way. Why would she consider herself more attractive? They were two men dressing as women for a lark because they had been made to do so.

“Ok honey here comes the good part. Now this going to feel a little strange at first but I think you’re going to like it. In any event you're going to have to get used to it,” Wendy produced a pair of white rayon high-waisted panties with an elasticised waist.

“These are tight fitting and smooth so they won’t spoil the lines of your pencil skirt,” Wendy placed them on the counter and put a matching brassiere beside them.

“I don’t have your waistline honey so I’m going to have to wear a girdle with garters but because you have that waist you can get away with just wearing a garter belt,” Wendy held a piece of lingerie made of a lacy fabric that was elasticised and had six suspender straps with silver clips fitted to them.

Sam knew that the garment was designed to go around a woman’s waist and the garters were used to hold her stockings. He’d had a fascination for women’s legs in nylon stockings since he could remember but the thought of actually wearing the garments had never entered his head.

Sam had been in the military and in prison long enough that she was not embarrassed by nudity so when Wendy told her to take off her skivvies she did so with no anguish. Wendy fitted the garter belt around Sam’s waist getting her to step into it. Once she was happy with the fit she had Sam sit on the stool and offer her a leg.

“You have to careful not to put holes or runners in these things when you put them on,” Wendy explained as she rolled up a gauzy black fully-fashioned nylon stocking and slipped it over Sam’s toes.

The feel of the silky cool nylon as Wendy smoothed it up Sam’s leg was indescribable. Sam knew how lovely stockings felt on women’s legs when she stroked them but feeling the diaphanous garment on her own legs was absolutely delightful. Now she understood why women went to such great lengths to get their hands on good quality hosiery.

The sensation she felt putting on her stockings was exceeded only by the tingling exotic tickle of the fabric of her rayon panties sliding up her legs. Sam was becoming tumescent despite the absurdity of the situation.

“The lady doth protest too much, methinks,” Wendy snickered when she saw the effect that donning her intimates was having on Sam.

Sam blushed.

“I can’t help it. I’ve never felt anything like this before,” Sam admitted.

“Well that unsightly bugle will ruin the line of your skirt,” Wendy said.

While they waited for Sam’s erection to go down Wendy went looking for shoes. Sam had never felt so silly in her life. She had endured sitting on a latrine inches from another person taking a dump in a field head. She had lined up alongside a dozen men and bent over so that a prison officer wearing rubber gloves could examine her asshole for contraband. She had lay awake in the bottom bunk listening to the man above her masturbate and then followed suit knowing that he could hear her.

But sitting on the stool dressed only in nylon stockings and a garter belt waiting for her erection to subside so she could pull up her panties was the most absurd thing she had ever done.

“These will fit,” Wendy returned waving a pair of open-toed strappy high heels.

She too looked absurd running down the cosmetics aisle, her face painted expertly and her blonde do wobbling as she held onto it with one hand and waved the heels with the other, dressed only in boxers, tank top and socks. Sam couldn’t help but laugh which helped the last of her erection diminish.

Wendy showed Sam how to tuck her genitals and hold them in place with her tight panties.

“When I did drag we taped it all in place because we were singing and dancing and performing acrobatics but we are just going to be serving drinks and snacks to a couple of drunken men,” Wendy said, as if it that wasn't the most absurd thing ever.

She helped Sam finish dressing, padding her brassiere cups with rolled up nylons to give her chest some shape. Putting on the open-toed heels was easy but walking with them was torture and Wendy left Sam to practice walking, holding onto the counter for support until she had her balance.

“Point your toes slightly inward and unnaturally as it feels, put your sole down first then your heel. Those things aren’t combat boots,” Wendy advised her whilst putting on her own lingerie.

Wendy had been undertaking mostly sedentary duties and enjoying the meals provided by Dale Snitterman and dodging Company PT whenever she could and had put a few pounds since arriving at Villawood.

The added weight actually made her face a little prettier when she put on her makeup as it disguised her wrinkles and gave her full rosy cheeks. She’d had to step into a full corset which covered her entire torso and included bra cups and garter straps. It featured an inbuilt girdle that shaped her body into an hourglass figure and as she was carrying the extra pounds she had an ample bosom which she showed off by wearing the sleeveless, strapless dress with the fitted bodice and a full skirt that the mannequin had modelled in the store entrance.

Wendy looked like a voluptuous, attractive middle-aged woman who was confident in her gait and poise. Her transformation was amazing and unless you knew Petty Officer Wesley Meakins you would never know that it was him under that lipstick, powder, heels and finery.

Sam looked stunning in her slim-fitted pencil skirt suit but she was so ungainly and unsteady on her feet that she walked like a new born foal. Wendy gave Sam some pointers but there wasn’t time to train her in the womanly arts. She’d gathered some accessories and snapped clip-on earrings onto Sam’s earlobes, put a necklace around her neck and bracelets on her wrist. She gave her a clutch purse that complemented her suit.

“I’ve put your keys, cigarettes, handkerchief and some makeup in the clutch,” she explained, slamming the purse into Sam’s belly so that she instinctively gripped it.

She looked down at her red nailpolished fingernails, past her tight tummy, down the line of her skirt to her shapely legs and her feet shod in the high heels and actually felt that she looked pretty good and very feminine. The hem of her skirt tickled her legs and felt delightfully decadent as the lining swished on her nylons. She could taste her lipstick and smell the perfume that Wendy had doused them both with.

Sam actually felt very feminine. It was very strange and unsettling but somehow comforting and it was just for one day. It was just a lark; a tease, a prank forced on them by a couple of bullies. It was just for one day. Just for one day, she kept repeating the mantra in her head over and over.

“Just for one day. It’s just a prank,” she spoke aloud without intending to.

“That's right Samantha; it’s just for one day,” Wendy said as she took Sam’s hand and led her outside the department store.

But Wendy wasn’t so sure. She knew that she looked very fetching dressed enfemme but Sam looked absolutely stunning and sexy without realising it. She hoped that the others were just pranking them because Wendy had witnessed some shocking things in the alley out back of the Pink Parrot nightclub. But there was no need to scare Sam. Sam was much younger then she very inexperienced and naive. Wendy saw it as her job to protect the ingénue.

As Sam and Wendy approached The Copperlode they could hear the raucous noise of men having a good time. Bill Haley was singing about rocking around the clock, men were laughing loudly and bottles were clinking.

When Sam and Wendy walked through the door, Sam leaning on Wendy because she was still unsteady on her feet, the noise stopped abruptly. Someone silenced the duke box and the four men just stared at the two beautiful women.

When Bill Brody had ordered Sam Steele to ‘show up wearing those fucking clothes or else I’ll beat you into them,’ he had expected to see Sam and Wendy dressed like a couple of pantomime artists, not these two convincing sexy women.

“Christ on a fucking crutch,” Buddy Flintock whispered.

“What the fuck?” Victor Benning stood with his mouth agape.

“Ok ladies. Get to fucking work. Clean this joint up and get us more drinks,” William Brody needed to justify to himself and to the others why he had made Sam and Wesley get dressed like this.

Having gone years without seeing women, certainly not up this close and personal, the men were fascinated by Sam and Wendy. They looked feminine, they smelled feminine and some of the men bet they felt feminine. They found it best to forget all about Samuel Steele and Wesley Meakins then they could just believe that Samantha and Wendy were real.

“Get busy. The busier we are, the less chance we have of having to play grab-ass with these guys,” Wendy began to clear tables and empty ashtrays.

“What do you mean ‘play grab-ass’?” Sam asked, confused and still shell-shocked.

“These guys haven’t seen women for the whole of their incarceration. We aren’t real women under these clothes but the more they drink, the more they are libel to forget that,” Wendy pointed Sam towards the bar where she took up station.

Sam worked the bar and Wendy worked the room bussing tables, cleaning ashtrays, sweeping the floors and dodging wondering hands. The men marvelled at how presentable the women were except for Bill Brody who now regretted making them dress up. He hadn't wanted this. The men were treating Sam and Wendy like they were real women and they were supposed to tease, belittle and bully them.

Dale Snitterman had put some tater tots in the oven and hotdogs in the broiler and Sam plated the snacks and took them into the bar to feed the men. Buddy and Victor pawed at her and Dale laughed at her predicament. Wendy came to her aid but she too was molested.

The men pretended it was all a joke but to Sam it didn’t feel that way. There seemed to be genuine malice and lasciviousness in their actions.

“Why are they behaving this way?” Sam asked Wendy when they went outside for a smoke break so they could be alone.

“I warned you this might happen. Men who haven’t been seen women for such a long time are libel to put aside their aversions and let their imaginations and their ardour take hold, especially if they’ve been drinking,” Wendy lit up a Salem and offered the pack to Sam.

She lit up and was amused to see her lipstick stain the filter of her cigarette.

Sam looked confused and annoyed. She actually enjoyed wearing the clothing, the underwear and nylons felt delightful against her body, the skirt tickled her knees, the makeup tasted lovely, even the high heels were pleasant to wear now that she was getting used to them but the men’s reaction to her was unexpected and alarming.

“Look when we and my friends performed our skits on board the USS Polari the sailors enjoyed the shows but some of them took it a little too far after the show,” Wendy pretended to study the end of her cigarette.

“What do you mean they took it a little too far?” Sam sounded alarmed.

“Those men were fighting a war far from home and were far removed from female comfort and didn’t know if they would make it back. Three gorgeous women were entertaining them and some of those men chose not to differentiate between us and real women,” Wendy admitted.

“What do you mean?” Sam sounded shocked.

“You know what I mean. Don’t be so naïve,” Wendy was starting to find Sam’s naivety a little tiresome.

“Look. Like you said this only for one day so let’s just get through it and move on ok?” Wendy regretted snapping at Sam and gave her a hug.

“Ok Wes, I mean Wendy,” Sam giggled.

Wendy slapped Sam on the ass as she turned to go back inside and Sam laughed dizzily.

“Here they are! Let’s dance ladies,” Victor Benning grabbed Sam and Buddy Flintock grabbed Wendy as they came through the door.

Sam stutter-stepped onto the small dance floor pulled along by Victor whereas Wendy was quite the accomplished dancer and was soon cutting a rug with Buddy. Victor held Sam awkwardly at first, his alcohol-fuelled bravado dissipating now that he had Sam in his grasp but as he gazed into her beautiful green eyes enhanced by the dark makeup and her full red lips he just saw a beautiful woman and nothing of Sam Steele.

Victor pulled Sam closer and inhaled her perfume, nuzzling her neck as they shuffled around the dance floor to Love Letters In The Sand. Sam felt awkward and out of place being held by a man who up until recently had been a fellow inmate and was known to be particularly cruel to her. She went along with it, feeling Victor’s hand on her slim waist holding her tight while she automatically placed the fingers of her right hand between the thumb and first finger of Victor’s left hand and he gently closed his fingers over the side of her hand.

She had heard the quote about Ginger Rogers dancing backward and in high heels and at first she was clumsy and graceless but despite his rough exterior, Victor was quite the dancer and he led her around the floor and made her feel at ease. She looked over and saw that Buddy was holding Wendy tight and his hand was on her ass. She didn’t seem to making any attempt to move it either.

The evening just kept getting more bizarre. Buddy and Victor insisted that the girls sit with them and entertain them which Sam had no clue how to do but she looked so pretty that neither Buddy nor Victor cared; they just wanted to look at her and touch her.

Wendy kept them entertained, telling stories of her days performing drag at the Pink Parrot and of the exploits of the customers and the queens. She was careful never to break the illusion that they were real women, always referring to the queens in her story in the feminine vernacular and when talking about Sam and herself she also used feminine pronouns.

Sam would get up to replenish drinks and pass around snacks and Wendy would clean up glasses and empty ashtrays but Buddy and Victor insisted that they return to their table as soon as they had finished their chores.

Dale Snitterman watched the whole thing with amusement. He took Sam for a turn around the dance floor but he was polite and treated her respectfully. Sam could tell that he was bemused by her and Wendy; he studied them both and engaged with them but made no attempt to touch either of them. He joined them at their table and listened to Wendy’s stories and jokes.

The respect that Dale proffered the two ladies was not matched by Buddy and Victor who as they got drunker, got bolder. Victor started by stroking Sam’s legs under the table. At first she didn’t know what was happening, she just felt this soft sensual sensation on her leg which felt quite nice. She quite liked the feel of the nylon stockings on her legs and the flutter of her skirt on her knees but this was something more sensual and demanding.

When she realised that Victor was stroking her legs she paled and froze then she carefully extracted his hand and put it back on the table. He insisted they dance again and he attempted to kiss her while they were dancing but she rebuffed his advances but he held her tight and squeezed her ass which she could do nothing about. Wendy was no help because she was letting Buddy kiss her and feel her up without protest or rebuke.

When they returned back to the table Dale Snitterman was sitting with one leg crossed over the other with a shit grin on his face.

“You all make lovely couples,” he chuckled and Buddy and Victor laughed along with him.

Sam offered to refill everyone’s glasses as an excuse to get away.

She poured a double whiskey and a draught beer, put them on a tray and took it over to Bill Brody who was sitting alone just watching the spectacle.

Sam put the drinks down in front of him, picked up his empty glasses and turned to walk away.

“You two think you are hot shit don’t you?” Bill grumbled, obviously drunk.

Sam had had enough and she spun around and stood in front of him with her hand on hips. Her pose was very reflective of an angry woman but she wasn’t aware of it; it came intuitively to her. What she didn’t realise was that she was subconsciously affecting femininity without really thinking about. She felt like a woman dressed as she was so she mimicked feminine gestures. It came easily to her, without forethought or effort.

“What on earth do you mean Bill?” Sam was angry.

She’d been made to dress up as a woman and behave like a woman and the men were treating her like a woman and being a little brazen with their advances but she could put up with that. She wouldn't admit it to herself just yet but she quite liked being dressed this way and was enamoured with how she looked but Bill was being obtuse.

She pulled back a chair and sat herself across from him, fuming.

Bill admired the way her green eyes lit up when she was angry. Her face framed by the brunette bangs was more than pretty in the heavy makeup; she was gorgeous and she filled out her suit nicely and those legs went on for ever. Bill had been erect on and off all evening just watching her, jealous of Victor when he danced with her.

But he would never tell her that.

“What’s your problem Miss Steele?” Bill sipped his beer coolly; looking at her over the rim of the glass.

“My problem is you calling Wendy and I hot shit. You made us dress like this. You made us perform for you, pretending that we are girls. You were probably hoping the men would taunt us, tease us, maybe put a little beating or two on us but your plan seems to have backfired,” Sam said heatedly.

“The men seem to like us and enjoy our company and no harm has been done. Also I doubt this is supposed to be part of the study or experiment or whatever you call it. This is just bullying and harassment,” Sam began to seethe.

“Allow me to respond Samantha,” Bill smiled at her wickedly.

This was not the first time she had been called Samantha and she didn’t mind it; she quite liked the name.

“Let’s not ignore the fact that you and your chubby sister seem to like dressing like a couple of floozies a little more than I expected you would, although I knew it was nothing new for Miss Meakins. You however have surprised me. You are fully transformed and quite feminine. I’d never guess that it was Samuel Steele under that skirt,” Bill took another sip of his drink.

“I have to say that that the men’s reactions to you both surprised me and I admit that my plan has backfired. Yes I was expecting that the others would tease and belittle you but after some consideration I can understand why the men are taken with you both,” Bill lit a cigarette and passed it too Sam and then lit one for himself.

“As to how this fits into Flagg’s study, that’s for me to know and you to find out. Put it in your diary, I’m sure Flagg will be amused when he reads it,” Bill tapped ash into the ashtray.

“But for now just entertain the troops. Just be a zhenshchiny dlya utekh,” Bill said with a perfect Russian inflection.

Sam just glared angrily at him and stood up and snatched up the tray. She turned and was about to walk away.

“One more thing Sam,” Bill said and Sam turned around.

“You have a great ass in that skirt. Wendy was right; that suit fits you perfectly,” Bill chuckled and turned to his drinks.

Sam flushed with anger but underneath her flaming ire she accepted the compliment.

As it was Saturday the Copperlode stayed open until midnight and at midnight Wendy, Sam and Dale ushered the others out the door and Wendy and Sam cleaned up the bar and Dale cleaned up the kitchen, leaving the two women to lock up.

“Well that wasn’t so bad was it?” Wendy said sitting at a table with Sam sipping a nightcap.

“The clothes and makeup are quite nice; I could get used to them but my dogs are barking in these shoes,” Sam kicked off a high heel and massaged her toes.

“I’m glad it was only for one night though because it became very uncomfortable a few times there with Victor. He kept putting his hands under my skirt and he tried to kiss me several times and my ass feels like melon on a fruit stand that has been squeezed far too many times,” Sam allowed herself to laugh.

“Oh stop your whining; it’s all part of it,” Wendy countered.

“Well you didn’t seem to mind one bit. In fact Miss Wendy Meakins you were quite the hussy!” Sam couldn’t help but burst out laughing and Wendy joined her.

The two women locked the bar and let themselves out back.

As soon as they entered the alley they knew that something was wrong. Buddy Flintock blocked one end of the alley and Victor Benning the other. Sam tried to unlock the rear entrance to the Copperlode but fumbled with the keys in the dark and dropped them.

The women didn’t stand a chance and Buddy pinned Wendy up against the wall almost instantly. Sam was a little more athletic and made it a few yards down the alley before Victor caught her and pushed her against the wall.

He fell on her, pinning her small frame against the clapboard with his muscled torso. His hands went straight to her skirt, hiking it up despite her protests.

“Let me see them legs bitch,” Victor pawed at her.

“Stop Victor; there’s nothing to see there. It’s all an illusion,” Sam cried.

“Is it fuck! Look at them sexy long legs in those slinky nylons,” Victor had managed to hike Sam’s pencil skirt up her thighs so that her long legs and slim thighs were on display in the lamplight.

Victor stroked Sam’s legs and she felt the same way she had in the bar when he had done it earlier. It was alarming but somehow soothing and sexy. When his fingers came to her white rayon high-waisted panties she began to struggle again.

“Don’t Victor; you know what’s in there and you won’t like it,” Sam protested.

“I don’t wanna see what’s in there I wanna see them pretty panties snug around your pussy above those black silky stocking tops,” Victor stroked her stocking welts and then the front panel of her panties.

“It’s an illusion Victor,” Sam pleaded.

“Illusion this sister. You keep struggling and I'm going to hurt you,” Victor thrust his fingers between her legs which she was keeping tightly closed and squeezed her penis which was lying limp along her perineum.

The pain was fleeting but incredibly excruciating. While Sam gasped for breath and recovered Victor put his mouth on hers and kissed her. Sam began to turn her head and Victor thrust his hand between her legs again and Sam stopped struggling.

She returned the kiss and when Victor used his tongue on her she reciprocated. Sam hadn't kissed anyone for so long she had forgotten how wonderfully sensual and soothing it was. She forgot that she wasn’t actually a woman or that Victor was forcing himself on her and put her arms around his neck and kissed him passionately.

When he squeezed her ass she didn’t complain, his fingers massaging her buttocks through her panties felt quite nice. She knew what she was doing was wrong but she justified her actions to herself by alleging that Victor was forcing her to do these things and if she resisted he would hurt her, which in itself was in fact true.

Victor squeezed and pawed Sam’s buttocks for a while and then he placed his hands back on her thighs and began to stroke her legs. His kisses were getting hotter and Sam’s cock was becoming uncomfortably cramped between her legs but she had no intention of freeing it. She let Victor fondle her legs and the front of her panties while he kissed her and she kissed him back hoping that what they were doing would sate his lust.

She didn’t even flinch that much when Victor freed his penis and began to rub it on her nylon-sheathed thighs. She was expecting him to do so and her plan was to encourage him and let him sow his seed on her legs. It was better than any of the alternatives, the likes of which she didn’t want to think of.

Sam stole a glance sideways and saw that Wendy was kissing Buddy Flintock quite enthusiastically and to her horror she saw that she also had Buddy’s erect penis in her hand and was stroking it while he crushed his body against hers. She had a leg hooked around him and he was massaging her thigh whilst she massaged his appendage.

Sam tore her eyes away and concentrated on kissing the muscled black man who had her pinned to the rough clapboards. She was like a damsel in distress in the Saturday morning flickers but there was no hero to come to her rescue.

When Victor slid his meaty appendage between Sam’s thighs she closed her legs around it and kissed him more fervently, hoping that she could trigger his climax. She could feel the dampness of his pre-ejaculate staining her stockings and god help her, the feel of his hot manhood between her thighs was making her concupiscent. She could feel her cock pushing against the sleek fabric of her panties.

For a man out of practice, Victor was a good kisser. He pressed his lips to hers and slipped his tongue in and out of her lips and then explored her mouth. The more he did this the more Sam liked it and she kissed him fervently in response. Their kisses were hot and heavy and Victor was holding her tight, fucking her legs, his cock trapped between her thighs, warm, meaty, pulsing and ready to come.

Then Victor looked over to his pal and saw that Wendy was on her knees fellating Buddy and doing a very good job of it. Buddy had his hands on her shoulders and was thrusting his cock in and out of Wendy’s mouth as she sucked it like a lollipop.

“I’m gonna get me some of that,” Victor chuckled and Sam looked over and saw what Wendy was doing and her heart fell.

She fought valiantly but she was no match for Victor’s strength and by the time he had Sam on her knees she was unable to struggle any longer. He held her by her hair and poked his cock at her lipsticked lips but she refused to open her mouth.

“You know how this ends if you don’t do what I want Samantha and I’d rather not hurt you or spoil that pretty face,” he grunted, pushing his cock against her closed lips.

Sam let the tears roll down her cheeks as she opened her mouth and accepted Victor’s offering. He was smart enough not to gag her and he let only a small portion of penis enter Sam’s mouth.

“You bite it and you won’t wake up for a week honey; if ever,” Victor whispered, the malice in his voice was terrifying.

Sam closed her mouth softly over Victor’s erect penis and began to suck it. It followed naturally that her tongue would lick and slather it. Now that she had it in her mouth the worst was over. The battle was lost. It was best to get it over with as soon as possible.

She gripped the base of Victor’s penis and began to lick it and suck it, putting as much of his huge member in her mouth as she could take. It wasn’t really that unpleasant. Victor’s shank was long and black with purple veins and capillaries running along it; the head was mushroom shaped, dark pink and leaked a continual dribble of pre-ejaculate which to her surprise tasted fresh and sweet.

She used her fingers in conjunction with her lips to stroke the thick shaft while her tongue slathered at his glans, the tip ticking his fraenulum which made him shudder and sigh. Sam actually felt quite powerful even though she was on her knees. She decided how hard or soft she used her mouth on him and whether her tongue flicked over his glans or lapped at the underside of his cock.

Her panties were beginning to bulge under her skirt because she had become fully tumescent and her cock had sprung free.

Not that Victor could see any of that. He was too busy staring down at her pretty face looking into her dreamy green eyes which were looking back dutifully into his while her red lipsticked lips suckled his hard cock. She was so pretty and he was so horny.

Sam felt his cock begin to tremble but she set her resolve and kept eye contact with him as he began to flood her mouth with hot, salty semen. She swallowed what she could but some leaked from her lips which inspired Victor and he pulled his cock from Sam’s mouth and spattered that last of his pend on her face and in her hair. She stared at up at him defiantly while he defiled her pretty face, spraying it with his scalding jism.

She held this pose to disguise the fact that she was creaming her panties. Her cock, untouched and yet rampant inside her diaphanous rayon knickers, seeped globules of spunk; the warm sticky morass soaking into the fabric of her panties.

Her whole body was aflame with a supressed orgasm that coursed through her body, propagated in her shiny sleek panties and proliferating through every organ in her body. The air reeked of semen and sex; she could smell it in her nose, she could taste it in her mouth, she could feel it on her skin and in her hair.

Victor pushed his cock back into Sam’s mouth and she dutifully sucked out the least vestiges of his spend.

“You suck cock pretty good for a white girl,” Victor chuckled as he helped Sam to her feet.

He popped her against the wall and leaned and kissed her on lips quickly, keeping clear of the spatters of semen on her face.

“See ya later princess,” he smiled at her and joined up with Buddy Flintock who was standing at the end of the alley smoking a cigarette waiting for him.

Wendy was in the process of straightening her dress and fixing her makeup.

Sam reached into her clutch and took out the handkerchief and dabbed it at her face and hair until all of Victor’s semen was gone. There nothing she could do about the taste of it in her mouth so lit a cigarette. She waited until she was sure that Wendy wasn't watching and she slipped the handkerchief under her skirt and dried her panties as best she could. She tossed the handkerchief into the gutter in disgust.

Wendy came to join her smoking her own cigarette.

“Sorry Sam, I should have guessed that might happen,” Wendy said.

Sam looked at Wendy her face a picture of disbelief.

“Don’t be naïve Sam. What did you think those boys wanted when they were feeling us up on the dance floor? It could have been a lot worse,” Wendy said matter-of-factly.

“Thank fuck it’s over with and it was only for one day,” Sam sighed.

“Yeah Sam; it was only for one day,” Wendy said; not at all convinced she was telling the truth.

To be continued