After School Special/Part Five

by Marlissa

Glen was shown to the bedroom by his new 'parents.' He
gloomily looked around. It was decorated entirely in pink--
pink plush carpeting; a big pink double bed, with two fluffy
pillows and a smiling oversized teddy bear; a pink vanity replete
with lipsticks, mascaras, perfumes, foundations, brushes, styling
pins and rollers; a pink painted bookshelf filled with brand new
paperbacks, all of them romance novels; a pink skirted
nightstand with a stack of magazines like Cosmopolitan, Teen
Beat, Soap Opera Digest, and a number of catalogs from
Talbot's, Laura Ashely, Victoria's Secret and more; a pink
Princess phone; a pink plastic boom box with a preselected
music library of Madonna, Janet Jackson, Whitney Houston,
and Wilson Philips CDs; a pink lamp in the shape of a
ballerina; and a single window adorned with pink curtains. On
the wall were two posters. One was full of flowers and flowing
feminine script. It repeated a trite poem about setting love free
and it would come back to you. Another was a full length
poster of Fabio, the romance novel cover model and teen
heartthrob. The requisite Barbie doll rested on a bookcase shelf
watching over all with her empty and pleasing smile. A Minnie
Mouse clock clicked away the minutes and hours on the wall.

"You'll be very happy here, Kelly." Mr. Mason's -- Daddy's--
hand was on his bare ass and he hated it.

"And you'll finally be allowed to wear clothes. Isn't that
exciting? Why don't you play dress up by yourself and get used
to your new home, Kelly. Your father and I will be down in the
Play Room with Brenda." She rubbed her palm against her
thigh. "She's been a very naughty girl and needs to be
punished." The door was shut, leaving him alone.

He was relieved. Privacy. It was the first time he had enjoyed
privacy in two months. And clothes! He never realized how
much you could miss clothes! He opened the dresser.
Naturally-- girls' underwear. Bras, panties, thigh high stockings
and nighties. He opened the next drawer. Tops-- but all in
bright or pastel colors. He opened the bottom drawer-- shorts,
exercise outfits and bathing suits. None of it in the least boy-
like.

He turned and opened the closet. Inside hung a number of
short-skirted dresses, frocks and miniskirts. There was even a
little black cocktail dress. "Is that when I get invited to school
dances?" he thought disgustedly. On the floor were a number
of shoes-- many being three inch heels of varying fashion
colors. In addition, there were a pair of open-toed sandals and a
pair of pink Reebok running shoes.

He looked out the window, down at the wide luxuriant green
lawn and the hedges that bounded the huge estate. They
couldn't make him put these clothes on. And yet he wanted to
cover his body. Reluctantly he
returned to the dresser. He pulled out a light blue cotton bra
and slipped it on. It gently lifted and separated his 32B breasts,
offering some girlish cleavage above the flowery trimming that
decorated the demi-cup. He hated the pleasant way it made him
feel. He had to resist. But as he stepped into the matching
Calvin Klein blue thong panties, he couldn't help the wave of
delight he felt as the snug garment crept between and up his
legs. He had to remember he was a male, a twenty year old
male, not some dopey sixteen year old kid. But his resistance
crumbled as he slipped on the white cotton half-blouse that
bared his trim, flat tummy, feeling the tightness over his breasts
as he buttoned up. He picked out the only pair of jeans in the
closet, determined not to wear a skirt, no matter what.

But as he held up the pair of No Excuses jeans, he realized why
the calves had zippers. The designer jeans were so tight, he had
to unzip the calves, then get on his back and try to jam himself
into the legs. He managed to get them half in and stood up
carefully. He bounced up and down as he forced his already
small butt into the even tighter jeans. At last he was able to get
them in and triumphantly zipped the zipper. With the air of a
natural gesture, his hands found their familiar perch on his hips.
The mirror showed a sassy, hot to trot sixteen year old with
pouty lips and smoldering blue eyes. But that wasn't the reality,
Glen reminded himself frantically. Fishing though the shoes, he
slipped on the pink running shoes.

"Very pretty, Blue Eyes." It was the Masons. They were back.
But they weren't alone. Mr. Mason yanked a leash and Brenda
came tumbling to the floor behind him. "See your new big
sister, missy?"

Brenda looked up, eyes swollen with tears. The leash was
attached to a pair of handcuffs and allowed Mr. Mason to drag
the boy-girl behind him. The fourteen year old wore only a pair
of white bikini panties and a training bra. The back of his thighs
were red as if from being hit with a flat object repeatedly.

"Brenda has been a naughty little girl, Kelly. It seems your
sister isn't as interested as she should be in her housekeeping
duties. Naughty girl!" Mason screamed at the girl.

Brenda groveled on the floor before the two adults. "Please!
No more! Please! I won't do it again!" She pressed her cheek
against Lesley Mason's high heeled shoe pathetically.

Mrs. Mason rubbed her shoe across the boy-girls cheek and
Brenda obediently began to lick it. "This is what happens with
only children," she spoke to her husband. "They get spoiled
like Brenda. You know, I think having a big sister like Kelly
around will do wonders for teaching Brenda how to act like a
proper young lady."

Mr. Mason concurred. "Kelly, you may do whatever girls do
when they are alone. Your mother and I need to continue with
Brenda's discipline-- in our bedroom."

Brenda looked up. Kelly noticed the boy-girl shaking as he
struggled to his feet. The door was shut and Glen was left only
to wonder about the many shocking shouts and cries he heard
from the bedroom in the following hours.

*****************************

Rick Mason heard the door shut first. "The girls are home,
Darling. It's Homework Time"

Lesley Mason looked up. She had been reading a medical
journal article, which she carefully bookmarked and closed.
Languidly she rose to follow her husband, who was already
downstairs ordering the girls to come to the Play Room.

She walked in to find them standing, heads down, for their next
instruction. The Play Room was her idea. As a creator and
shaper by training, she had put much of her imagination in it's
design. The immediate impression was dungeon-like. She
preferred the dark, Gothic stony look, with the fireplace for her
and her husband's love games. It put everyone involved in the
proper frame of mind. Two sets of manacles hung from the
ceiling, which were easily controlled by a simple winch. A
stockade and sawhorse sat ready for use on the side of the
dark, barely-lit room. Whips, crops, and canes of all sizes and
thickness waited on wall brackets for hard hands to wield them.
A cage waited for an insolent prisoner in the other corner.
Lesley's favorite prop was a device they had bought
commercially-- a kind of saddle-seat mount from which
protruded a detachable dildo. Oh she loved that toy!

Rick lit the fireplace and brought it to a roar with the bellows.
"Strip down, sluts. You first Brenda."

The little brunette looked down and though shivering with
fright, kicked off her heels. Unsteadily, he pulled off his ribbed
pink tank top, exposing his cotton bra. At fourteen and a half,
Brenda had just been allowed to graduate from a training bra to
the real thing, even though his breasts hadn't grown, nor would
they ever grow any bigger. Gingerly he unzipped his denim
miniskirt. Wriggling out of it, he waited in only his pink cotton
softcup bra with it's thin straps and the matching pink cotton
bikini panties.

"Now Kelly."

With a saucy smile, the sixteen and a half year old kicked off
his red high heels and pulled off his midriff t-shirt. It was tight
and read "Boy Toy" on the front and back. Underneath, his
healthy pert bust was supported by a red lace half-bra, which he
thrust out proudly. Kelly loved his breasts, the way the boys
and male teachers at school looked at them, the way he could
make them jiggle to get attention. Sinuously, he pulled down
her neon green spandex bike shorts to reveal the red lace thong
panty. It had been a gift from Daddy for being such a good girl
in helping to slut-train his little sister Brenda. He loved them--
they made him feel like such a pampered princess!

Months ago, Kelly had hated to wear the revealing, provocative
clothing he wore now. He had made up his mind to resist the
temptations of the feminine trap he was in. He was a male, a
twenty year old man. Panties and bras couldn't change that and
he wouldn't accept them as natural. But slowly his feelings
changed. Not that he liked what had happened to him-- he
missed the freedom being a man had given him. Everything
feminine was such a prison-- tight clothes, high heels,
mandatory make-up, everything. And the dull hot throb that
emanated from the chastity belt reminded him constantly that he
had born a male. It was so frustrating never to be able to
scratch the itch below, the itch that was a curse because the
things that his adoptive parents did to him always kept it
burning.

But his attitude had changed. It wasn't the result of the
punishments he earned from time to time. It wasn't the training
either. It was from inside. It was the creep in his spine that
rose when he realized he was becoming very good at dressing
up, the silent scream from knowing he blushed when Daddy
complimented him, the anguish that raged impotently when he
began to pick and choose from his growing lingerie collection
and get turned on, even against his will.

And then his escape plans began to dissolve in gauzy
daydreams. His instincts told him if he could talk to the right
people, have them check his fingerprints or dental records,
then... But a day would pass and these thoughts would be lost.
And in trying to rediscover them, he found that thinking was
just too hard, too exhausting, too frustrating. Instead of taking
firm shapes, his thoughts grew fuzzy and vague, like strands of
cotton candy that dissolved at the merest touch. He gave up
thoughts of escape in favor of less complicated, simpler things
like his romance novels and soap operas, what to wear and what
color to paint his nails.

Then school had started. It was strange being a student in the
same school he had once been a faculty member of. Not that he
any longer remembered the skills or education he had once had.
Today Kelly was no more able to be a guidance counselor than
he was a rocket scientist! Luckily, he wasn't encumbered with
college prep courses. Like Brenda, his parents had enrolled him
in general overview courses that wouldn't tax his mental
abilities. The only courses he had to worry about grades in
were Home Economics and Gym class. Home Ec was
important because he was responsible for household cooking
and cleaning, with Brenda as his helper. Gym was important
because it kept him in shape, though aerobics at home were also
expected.

School itself was a nervous blur for Brenda. The young boy-
girl was jumpy and still unable to handle the attention his
ripening feminine body and teasing clothes attracted from boys.
But for Kelly, being a pretty high school sophomore was
wonderful. In the clothes he wore now and the nubile body he
sported, he did indeed resemble the Kelly Taylor character from
the Beverly Hills 90210 series. Sweet, tarty thoughts crossed
his mind as he swung his hips in the tiny red miniskirt for the
boys behind him. He began to find power over boys in the
smallest ways-- by bending over to reveal some pink cleavage,
to toy with a stray bra strap, to giggle cutely at their silly jokes,
to intently listen, eyeing them dreamily as they spoke to him.

He wasn't permitted a boyfriend by his parents. Kelly was
reserved for their use alone. Whenever he was asked out on a
date, Kelly had learned to answer that there was a boyfriend
who was in the Marines, so, gosh no it wouldn't be possible for
Kelly to cheat on him, would it? But if Kelly wasn't already
involved, and if the mysterious Marine ever dumped Kelly,
could she take a raincheck and call the boy up? This strategy of
assuaging each boy's ego kept them from thinking the pretty
blonde was "stuck up."

He was allowed to flirt, though, and flirt he did, with the boys
he was beginning to think of more and more as cute and
handsome. Instead of paying attention to the teacher, Kelly
would silently choose a boy in a classroom and begin to tease
him, allowing the lucky boy quick peeks of the bright polyester
or lace panties he wore as he slowly crossed his legs under the
desk. Such behavior earned him the reputation of a slut, which
he both resented and accepted. Kelly was Kelly-- he couldn't
help what he had been turned into.