Our Gay Apparel
By Nocti Raven
Copyright 2012 by Nocti Raven, all rights reserved
* * * * *
This story is intended for ADULTS ONLY. It contains explicit depictions
of sexual activity
involving minors. If you are not of a legal age in your locality to
view such material or
if such material does not appeal to you, do not read further, and do
not save this
* * * * *
I looked pretty
good in that new suit. And don’t you dare call me arrogant, because it wasn’t
just my opinion. My mom and dad and my Aunt Helen all agreed that I was filling
out very nicely for a 14-year-old (joining the football team probably had
something to do with that). And I had confirmation from outside the family as
well: several girls at school had asked me out, and I’d said yes to more than a
few. I enjoyed playing the field . . . and experimenting. I didn’t really see
the point of going steady.
So as I stood in
front of that mirror, adjusting my jacket and straightening my tie, I wished
with all my heart that I could go to school or to a café, to anywhere with
girls to woo. It was probably the best I’d ever looked, and it was wasted on
this damn family Christmas.
There were girls
there, of course, and some of them were pretty cute . . . but they were my
cousins. Personally I wouldn’t have had a problem with it; if all we do is fool
around naked, it’s all in good fun. But they wouldn’t see it that way; they
were uptight. I guess it was no big loss. The only really hot one was Ariana,
and she was 17 at the time. Older ladies weren’t quite as incredibly easy for
me to seduce.
“Oh James! You
look absolutely dashing!”
Okay, maybe some
older ladies were pretty easy to seduce. That was Aunt Helen, who definitely
wasn’t so bad for a lady her age. Before I start to sound repetitive, I’ll
explain that we’re a very attractive family. It started when a handsome
economist roped in a stunning model. They had four children, one of whom had me
Helen. Are people here yet?” My grandparents’ house was so big that a party
could be raging just a few rooms over and you’d never hear it.
“Ah, no. Not
yet. Most people won’t get here for a few hours. I just came to find you to ask
Now this was
unexpected. Usually all I did at these reunions was play with the cousins in a
kids room while the grownups schmoozed and got liquored up. I guessed I was
finally grown up enough to do a little more.
“Name it,” I
said, craving responsibility.
you seem to have matured into quite the responsible young man. Sadly . . . my
son has not.”
I couldn’t help
but smirk. Helen was probably very taken with me because I compared so
favorably to her own son. Tyler
was my age, but he never once acted like it. See, we cousins all ended up
together on holidays and reunions, and back in the beginning Tyler would always
play with Daniella, who was two years younger than him (the youngest of all the
cousins, actually). Later Daniella grew out of him and started playing with the
rest of us. Tyler
played alone then.
tried to play with us, play whatever game the rest of us thought up . . . but
it never worked out. He was a sore loser, whiny and annoying. And he always
lost because he refused to play by the rules. We all scolded him, from little
Daniella right up to her sister Ariana, and eventually he’d get the message and
run away. Or he’d do something stupid, like hit one of us. Then his mommy would
come and spank him, right in front of all of us. Yep, he never seemed to grow
out of a good spanking. Last time I saw him get it, naked and screaming, he and
I were eleven years old. We always laughed at him while he got it, but that
time I didn’t laugh. The others laughed, of course, because it was funny. But I
just felt . . . angry. I hated Tyler
for making 11-year-old boys look stupid. He was a disgrace, still getting
spanked at that age.
And from the way
Aunt Helen was talking, it sounded like Tyler
hadn’t changed a bit.
“Yeah,” I said.
“I remember him having some . . . bad behavior.”
She nodded. “I
need to help set up and cook Christmas dinner, so I can’t be watching Tyler to make sure he
doesn’t get into trouble. If it’s not too much trouble, I’d like you to keep an
eye on him until everyone arrives.”
So now I was Tyler’s babysitter. Not
exactly the important duty I’d expected, but at least it was responsibility. It
was a dirty job, but someone had to do it.
“Of course, Aunt
Helen. Anything I can do to help.”
She led me through
the massive house. She, my dad, and their other two siblings were the only
people who could navigate the place. They’d grown up here, learned the layout
while they were kids. No one else could get around without a guide or a map.
Even my grandparents got lost on the way to the kitchen, and they owned the
through the big main room, with the towering Christmas tree and the cavernous
fireplace and half a dozen couches. That was where everyone would gather on
Christmas morning. I hadn’t spent Christmas with the whole family in a couple
of years, but I imagined Tyler
would be as bratty as ever. He’d rip open his presents and forget to say thank
you, then brood while everyone else got their turns.
Down what felt
like a mile of wide corridor, past what felt like a hundred ornate wooden
doors, we stopped. Aunt Helen put a hand on my shoulder and smiled awkwardly.
“Just so you’re
not surprised, James . . . I should tell you that Tyler’s trying out a new look.”
“Like a new
“No, not really.
Not at all, actually. You know how he is, always acting up. You’ve seen plenty
of times how a spanking is the only thing that gets the message across. Well, I
got to talking to some friends of mine, and they had some interesting theories
on exactly why that was.”
“Why he gets the
message from a spanking?” I laughed. “I’m no expert, Aunt Helen, but I used get
spanked when I was little. It’s been a while, but I remember it pretty well. I
think it gets the point across because it hurts.”
certainly. But I think there’s more to it, especially for older children like Tyler. It’s embarrassing,
James. It humiliates him. It strips him naked, so there’s that. And then he
get’s bent over and beaten like a little child.” She looked down, a little sad.
“Sometimes I feel bad about it . . . but he deserves it every time. He brings
it on himself. And I think it’s that . . . that degradation, more than any
pain, that keeps him in line.”
clicked in my head. “Wait a minute . . . a new look! You don’t mean he’s . . .
chuckled. “No. I considered that, but that would make it awfully difficult for
us to go out in public. So I did some research and came up with an even better
idea. It keeps him humiliated pretty much all the time, which keeps him out of
trouble. But he’s only humiliated if someone sees him, so he can’t be left
alone too long.”
80’s song was playing. For a second I thought the house had an intercom I
hadn’t known about, but then Aunt Helen took out her cell phone and the
ringtone stopped. She read her text.
“It’s from your
mother,” she said. “I’m needed back in the kitchen. Well, you’ve been warned.
Just keep an eye on Tyler.
It shouldn’t be too challenging. Oh, and don’t just comment on it; treat him as
if he really is the way he looks.”
That was when it
hit me. With that comment I’d figured it out. I nodded as reassuringly as I
could, and Aunt Helen scampered down that endless hallway to help cook dinner.
I straightened my tie and adjusted my jacket one last time, just to look as
dashing as possible for my new lady friend.
I opened the
door and walked in; it was a sitting room with a huge window, letting in plenty
of natural light. And Tyler
was standing at that window, looking out into the courtyard. I struggled not to
Tyler had certainly not filled out as I had;
he was still skinny, and a few inches shorter than me. And he was dressed as a
girl from head to toe: in his hair was a headband, and on his feet were
glistening black Mary Janes. In between was a dress--one I’m certain I’d seen
on some of the sluttier girls at school dances. It was hot pink, matching the
headband, and it was very, very short, not even reaching halfway down his
thighs. And . . . and it was tight, designed to show off a girl’s figure. Tyler’s figure was
vaguely girlish, tapering at the waist; the dress flared out to make up for his
lack of round hips.
I cleared my
throat to announce my presence, and Tyler
spun around so fast that his dress fluttered up, flashing a hint of red panties
underneath. Now that was interesting.
He was speechless, eyes wide like a deer in headlights. I began walking toward
him to get a better look.
The illusion was
actually quite spectacular. Tyler’s
hair was long for a boy’s, which was barely even short for a girl’s. And his
face and legs (exposed as they were) had no hair to speak of. In fact, with his
boyish features and even more boyish body, he looked just like an 11- or 12-year-old
girl. And pretty cute, if I do say so myself.
“Hey, Tyler. Long time, no
see.” Almost two years, actually.
His eyes got
wider as I got closer, and his lower lip was visibly trembling. Up close I
could see more details. He had a little heart-shaped gold locket around his
neck. His nipples made little points in the dress. His lips were actually the
same hot pink as the dress and headband.
I realized I was
grinning from ear to ear. Not very dignified, but I couldn’t help it. This was
just too priceless, too precious.
“So you’re a
girl now.” I put a hand on his bare shoulder. He cringed.
“Uh, well . . .
I don’t . . .”
“Aw, you’re all
flustered. Don’t worry; lots of girls get that way around me.”
“What?” he said.
“No! I’m not . . . it’s just . . .”
I couldn’t help
but laugh. “Wow. Boy Tyler
never seemed to run out of annoying things to say, but girl Tyler can’t even
get whole sentence together. Better not let Ariana catch onto that; it might
offend her feminist side.”
His face was
approaching the colour of his dress and lips.
As I waited for
him to mangle another attempt at responding, I realized that this was more than
just funny. I had never in my life felt so confident, mature, masculine,
powerful. Here was a guy the same age as me, but without the deep voice,
muscles, and body hair. Girls ripped off their dresses for me, and his mom had
stuck him in one. I felt very big, very tough.
In fact, one
part of me was actually getting bigger and tougher. I guess it made sense: I
was alone with a cute girl in a very short dress. Tyler’s mom had specifically said to treat
him like a girl, and it seemed my dick had gotten the message.
hot pink lips looked very interesting.
I slid my hand
down from Tyler’s
shoulder, over an almost nonexistent bicep, a knobby elbow, and a hairless
forearm . . . and I took him by the hand. (That was when I noticed his nails—guess
what color they were painted.) I interlaced my fingers with his dainty girly
ones, and led him over to a sofa. He followed without too much trouble.
We sat down side
by side, much closer than male cousins usually did. But Tyler wasn’t my male cousin anymore. He
wasn’t even a female cousin. He was just a girl. Maybe a bit of a late bloomer
with that flat chest, but a girl nonetheless. I draped my arm around her
shoulders, evoking another cringe.
“So you were a
bad boy,” I said. “So bad that your mommy made you into a girl.”
She seemed to be
holding her breath. I pulled her just a bit closer.
“Are you gonna
be a good girl . . . or a bad girl? Or maybe both?”
She looked at me
with her big blue eyes. They were wide with fear, and oh so pretty. Tyler had certainly
inherited the family attractiveness, but he’d gotten the female brand. He made
a childish-looking, mediocre boy, but a waifishly sexy girl. Aunt Helen was
trying to punish him, but this was the nicest thing she could have done. It
brought out the beauty of his feminine side.
I wondered if Tyler had known about his
feminine potential. He always tried so hard at being a proper boy, obsessing
over sports and things like that. Maybe he was trying to distract us from the
pretty little girl he was meant to be.
“I . . . I . .
.” she stammered adorably, “I don’t know . . . both . . . no, good. I’ll be
“Are you sure?”
I said, giving her shoulder a squeeze. “I think you can do both.”
She made a pouty
little frown. I’d seen that frown, that little pursing of the lips, a thousand
times. It was what he did when he wasn’t getting his way. It had always annoyed
me . . . but with that lipstick, it aroused a very different feeling.
“No . . . I
won’t be bad. Only good. I promise.”
speech made me chuckle. “Okay, okay. But being a good girl means doing what
you’re told. What if I tell you to do something that makes you a bad girl?”
The fear flashed
in her eyes again. But I’m pretty sure she had no idea what I was thinking. It
wasn’t the fear of a boy bound for a spanking, or of a girl about to get taken
advantage of; it was the fear of a keen little first-grader who doesn’t know
the answer to the teacher’s question.
“It’s okay,” I
said, placing my free hand comfortingly on her bare thigh. Her skin was warm.
“You can be bad and good at the same time, and you won’t get in trouble.”
She looked down;
her cheeks were flushed. Was she starting to figure me out? Or was she just
embarrassed that she couldn’t follow my line of reasoning?
I decided to put
things to the test. I slid my hand slowly up her thigh, inching closer and
closer to those little red panties. It took her a moment to notice the motion,
but I felt her leg and her shoulder tense up when she did.
“Shh,” I said.
And then, very softly in her ear, “Be a good girl.”
My fingers slid
under the pleated fords of the dress . . . and brushed the soft fabric of the
panties. She leaned forward, probably some male instinct to protect the balls
from harm. I pulled her back.
With a couple of
questing fingers, I got a feel for what was under those panties. It was a
little big for a clit . . . but small for a dick. And it was a soft little nub, not at all happy to see
me. I gave it a little squeeze.
Suddenly Tyler shot right to his
feet, and took a nervous step away from the couch. His balls felt pretty small,
but I guess they worked for just a second.
I was hard
already, but seeing her upright, eyes wide and cheeks red and the dress hugging
her skinny little curves . . . I went from hard to rock hard. And I always had
a thing for reluctant girls; they line up to date me, but then I ask for a BJ.
If they’re down with that, I say we fuck. If they’re down with that, I go for
anal. As a rule, I never come until we’re doing something I had to talk her
into . . . or pull her into.
I leaned forward
and grabbed her skinny wrist. I held her tight.
you’re being a very bad girl.”
She took in a
breath. “No . . . I’m . . . I’m not a girl.”
I jerked her
wrist toward me, and she fell back into place on the couch. “Yes,” I said
firmly, “you are a girl. You’re a
very pretty girl. So pretty that . . . even when you’re a bad girl, you’re
still better than when you were a boy.”
I released her wrist, which made her relax
just a little. Then I slipped my arm behind her back and held her by the waist.
It was a comforting gesture, and she looked at me with an emotion I couldn’t
“But you were
still a bad girl, Tyler. You need to be punished.” I slid my hand down from her
waist, giving her butt a playful squeeze. “I think a spanking is in order.”
“No!” she said,
finding her voice. “Please, no. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry . . . I’ll be
I almost laughed
again. This was too perfect. I leaned in and gave her a little peck on the
cheek. She winced.
“Like I said, Tyler, you’re very
pretty. How would you like to be my girlfriend?”
“Your . . . your
girlfriend? No, I can’t. I’m not a girl.”
I gave her butt
another squeeze. “Oh, I think you are. If you’re not a girl, then you’re just
my dumb cousin, and you need a really hard spanking. But if you’re a nice,
delicate girl, I might go easy on you. And if you’re gonna be my pretty little
girlfriend, I won’t have to spank you at all.”
Her eyes darted
back and forth, like big blue searchlights frantically seeking something. An
exit, I guess. But there was no way out.
“Oh . . . okay,”
she muttered. “I’ll be your girlfriend.”
I began nodding.
“A good, obedient little girlfriend.”
nodded with me. “Obedient.”
“You’re my girl.
You do what I say.”
“Say it,” I
said. “You’re my girl. You do what I say.”
She gulped, and
I noticed yet another boyish femininity: Tyler’s
Adam’s Apple was pretty much undetectable.
“I’m your girl,”
she said, barely louder than a whisper. “I do what you say.”
With the hand on
her butt, I shoved her forward, right off the couch. She stood awkwardly in
front of me. Once again I took a moment to appreciate her. She really reminded
me of a twelve-year-old I’d gone out with for a week, the youngest girl I’d
ever fucked. But Tyler
was prettier. That little upturned nose and those huge blue eyes, and the silky
smooth skin and the tight little butt . . . she was downright adorable.
And she was so
fucking reluctant . . . she could barely admit she was a girl. That thought got
my heart racing like a jackhammer.
“Get down,” I
said. “On your knees.”
although kind of slowly. I don’t think she was quite used to those Mary Janes
I gestured to
the left, and she inched over until she was right in front of me. I beckoned
her to come forward, and I opened my legs wide so she could come right against
Grinning like an
idiot, I kept my eyes on Tyler’s
face while I unbuckled my belt and unzipped my pants. I didn’t want to miss the
moment when those deep blue eyes saw what was about to happen.
When they did,
it was glorious.
I’d have to
retuck my shirt later, but that was a small price to pay. I tossed my tie over
my shoulder so it wouldn’t get in the way. Then, last but not least, I pulled
down the waistband of my boxers, and let the iron rod loose.
Seven and a half
inches. That’s my length when fully erect. But judging by Tyler’s reaction, I’d guess his wasn’t half
that. Her face was a good foot from my dick, but she looked like I’d slapped
her with it.
“Paint it pink,”
I said. She looked at me with scared confusion. “Suck on it. Like a popsicle.”
I didn’t need to
remind her to be a good girlfriend. She slowly leaned forward, planting a cold,
wet kiss on the tip. I shuddered with pleasure, and she took me in as deep as
she could. I decided not to force her to deep throat me; that could wait till
our relationship was a little bit stronger.
It took her a
moment to get into the rhythm, but she got it. She’d been a fourteen-year-old
boy recently enough, which meant she’d seen her share of porn. I’m sure Tyler had never received
a blowjob, but she’d seen enough on the internet to understand the basics. She
was even careful not to let me feel teeth.
She was good for
an amateur. It was one of the best blowjobs I’d ever had. And there was this
one perfect moment, near the end, when I looked down and she looked up, and
there was this dreadful understanding in her face. When our eyes met, I looked
deep into her liquid blue peepers, and I could tell what she was thinking:
“Your dick is huge compared to mine, and
it’s inside my mouth.”
sense of size envy made me remember for a second that this was actually a guy.
But to my surprise, that didn’t make it any less sexy. I’m not attracted to
guys, of course, but seeing one as pathetic as Tyler, reduced to my cocksucking girlfriend,
was overwhelmingly erotic.
forward and ran my fingers through her hair, then gripped her head like a
basketball. She tried to lean back, but I held her down. She made a kind of
wide-mouthed yelping noise, full of alarm, but she figured out what was coming.
And she knew I was stronger than her; she couldn’t struggle.
I shot my load
right to the back of her throat; her gagging noises would have made me laugh if
my whole body wasn’t bound in the orgasm. I’d been with enough girls to know that
I was a prodigious blaster: I shot it out hard and fast, and in gratuitous
quantity. I let Tyler
withdraw as I filled her mouth with fluid, but I kept the tip in her lips until
my prostate had squeezed it all out. Then I let her lean back and swallow it
all in one massive gulp.
A lot of girls
need to be told to swallow, or at least asked. But Tyler was a good girl. She knew her place.
I had an
old-fashioned handkerchief in my suit’s pocket, and I used that to mop the
excess saliva off my dick, then to wipe a dollop of my sperm off the corner of Tyler’s mouth. I made
sure to fold the handkerchief so that none of the fluids would touch my suit
when I pocketed it.
lightly, I said, “Stand up.”
She was wobbly
as she got to her feet, like one of them had fallen asleep while she was on her
knees. But she stood before me, pretty as a picture, with her hands behind her
Almost as an
afterthought, I stuffed my dick, still fairly stiff, back into my boxers,
retucked my shirt, zipped my pants and closed my belt. It takes some skill to
do all that sitting down, you know.
That done, I
leaned forward and lifted the front of my little girlfriend’s dress, exposing
the front of those silky red panties. She made a plaintive little yelp, like
she was holding in an objection.
“Good girl,” I
said, for good measure.
With my other
hand I pulled down the front of those panties, exposing Tyler’s pitiful little package. His whole
body tensed up with fear, or with the effort of not bolting from the room.
bastard still wasn’t happy to see me. It must have been cold in that skimpy
little dress, because Tyler’s
flaccid pecker had shrunk to about an inch in length, looking very much like
the slightly oversized clitoris I’d compared it to. And those little balls were
almost invisible in their wrinkly little sack. And, of course, his pubes were
so downy and sparse I could barely see them.
“You’re a good
girl now, but you were still bad before. I won’t spank you because you did so
well just now, but you still need to be punished.”
I stuck three
fingers in his scrotum, practically reaching inside his body to get ahold of
his little testicles. When I found them I gave them a gentle squeeze. Tyler doubled over,
stifling a cry of pain, and I withdrew my hands from his groin. The panties
snapped back into place and the pleated hem of the dress fell down to cover
I got to my
feet. Slowly Tyler
straightened up, and looked me in the eye. I gave him a wink, and he turned his
gaze noncommittally to the floor. Smiling, I reached over and adjusted his
headband, which I’d dislodged when I grabbed his head.
“Tyler,” I said, “I think
this’ll be the best Christmas ever.”