Part 5
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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.



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