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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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WARNING!
This text file contains sexually explicit
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Rocker Chick
by Author Obscure (1996)
***
A struggling guy band complies with a promoter's demand
that one of them impersonate a women and that one gets
into the role more than anyone expected. (MM, 1st-gay-
expr, oral, cd)
***
They waited. Five young guys in a room. All wearing the
same "uniform" if leather jackets, jeans and heavy
boots could be called that. Mac, Sam, Suds, Frazz, and
Don. They were friends from school, and since school
they'd been a band. Soft metal. "The Tide". Now they
were in their mid-twenties and if they didn't "get a
break" soon, they wouldn't be a band much longer.
Tonight, they'd played the Garden, the biggest venue in
the town. It was where every band began, and they had
done 10 minutes, gone down pretty well, and were now
waiting to see if Hans Breecher, the manager was going
to give them a return PAID booking. If he DID, they
were on the way. if not, well, They were all tense.
Frazz, the drummer played a monotonous tattoo on the
concrete wall of the dressing room. Mac, the vocalist
shot him a glance, and Frazz stopped.
"Sorry," he muttered.
The door swung open, and Hans stood there. They all
rose. Breecher was tall, with swept back black hair,
and a lean fit body. He'd run the Garden for the past 5
years, and started some of the biggest bands on their
way. He gazed around the room, and smiled.
"That wasn't bad, not bad at all."
The five young guys let out a collective sigh of
relief. "Does this mean you're going to book us?" asked
Mac, tentatively.
"Well, yes, three week run, starting next month. Terms
to be arranged."
Suds let out the first whoop, then they were all
joining in. Hans held up his hand, "On one condition!"
he said, smiling.
They waited.
He stared at Don, and grinned.
"You look like that the chick here the most."
Don frowned. Chick?
"Thing is," continued Breecher. "Band needs an angle,
not many bands have a cute fox playing bass, use it
more, bring her into the light a bit, that's the deal."
"But..." began Don, and then yelped as Mac kicked him
hard and sure on the ankle.
"Sure thing Mr. Breecher, Donna here hates the
spotlight, but rest assured she'll be rocking next
time!" The rest of the guys were silent. When Mac
spoke, he spoke for all of them.
"And, you know, try to sell your charms a little more,
doll," said Breecher. "I know its considered sexist
these days, but give us a bit of leg?"
He turned and left the room.
The exhilaration was gone. Don was confused. Sure he
was slight of build, only 5'6" tall, and like the other
guys he wore his thick dark hair halfway down his back,
but to be mistaken for a girl?!
"What do we do?" asked Sam, the lead guitarist. "Well
it's simple, Breecher wants us to feature our "girl"
bassist, so we feature her," said Mac.
"I-If you think I'm going to p-play the next gig in a
dress, you're out of your freakin' mind!" said Don
angrily.
"What's the problem?" pleaded Mac. "Let Breecher think
what he wants, do what he wants. Lets do the 3 weeks,
make the contacts, get things rolling, and then it
doesn't matter anymore!"
The three others joined in the argument, and so it
raged for a solid hour. Don trying to explain that he
couldn't possibly go pull it off, the others begging
him to try, for the sake of the band, and three hours
later, after a good too many beers at Murphy's, Don
finally agreed.
***
They had just under two weeks before the first gig.
During this time it was suggested that Don learnt how
to be a girl "full time" so he wouldn't give himself
away by an error in speech or movement. They all shared
a rambling flat in the town centre, and Mac's
girlfriend Shanna was roped in to help him learn about
clothes and make-up.
Don normally shared a room with Suds, but they all
agreed that as a girl, he should have Mac's room, and
so one afternoon a couple of days later, he moved into
it, complete with a new wardrobe of second hand clothes
that Shanna had bought around town. The first night,
she dressed him. Firstly, he shaved off all his body
hair, underarms, chest, legs, all of it. He stood
before Shanna, naked, feeling the breeze so much more
on his hairless body. It was a strange feeling. not
unpleasant... just different.
Shanna helped him to dress. First she had him wear a
very tight, flesh coloured G-string, that tucked away
his balls and cock, between his legs, leaving him with
a dull ache, and a smooth girlish front. Over this he
wore tiny white panties.
Next Shanna had him put on a waspwaisted white lace
corset, and tugged on the laces, until he thought he'd
choke. When she'd finished, she measured his waist at
24 inches. The corset's tightness, had forced the loose
flesh up his chest, and now, with the minimum of
padding, and a little shading on his cleavage, Don
looked for all the world as though he had a small, but
real bust. Then Don pulled on a pair of fishnet
stockings and Shanna clipped them into place.
"Good legs!" she said admiringly.
Don blushed, though secretly pleased, if he was going
to be a girl, it was nice to be thought a cute one! A
tight black lycra mini skirt was next, and an old black
and white hooped T-shirt completed his outfit. Shanna
decided he should wear his heavy motor-cycle boots,
which looked very trendy with the skirt. She busied
herself slipping lots of silver bangles and rings onto
his hands and arms, then a pair of hoop earrings,
completing the jewelry with a few chain necklaces and a
silver crucifix.
Then she started on his make-up. Foundation, heavy eye
shadow, eye-liner, mascara, and deep red lipstick.
patiently explaining it all as she went, so he'd be
able to do it himself next time. Then she began to
backcomb his hair until it billowed from his head and
cascaded down his back in waves of raven black volume.
Finally she stood back and looked at him. Don stood
there, his heart racing. he could feel the tightness of
the corset, the soft jiggle of his "breasts" as he
moved, the rasp of the stockings if he crossed his
legs. He turned to the mirror, and fell silent. he was
GORGEOUS! Like one of the bands own groupies. Slim,
sultry, pouting lips, luscious hair, long, long legs,
tiny waist.
Shanna threw open the door, and he followed her down to
the kitchen. The four guys were seated around the
table. They stared at him, and one by one began to
smile. Then Mac let out a low wolf whistle.
"You look, stunning, Donna!"
Don smiled, and swayed into the room, he felt good! The
attention the guys paid to him, their questions about
what it felt like, all excited him, and when Mac
suggested they all go for a walk, he couldn't wait!
Out on the street he was nervous at first, but as they
passed more and more people, and no-one seemed to be in
the slightest bit curious, he realised that he did
indeed "pass" as a girl. He hugged Mac's leather jacket
tight against him, and blushed. When Mac had given him
the jacket against the chill, he'd been a little
surprised, but deep down happy to accept the offer. Now
as he walked, he could smell the "maleness" of the
singer on the jacket, and part of him was turned on by
the thought of rolling around on,
"Penny for them?" smiled Mac.
Don blushed. "Oh just thinking about playing a guitar
in a skirt!" he giggled.
The days passed into weeks, and Don grew more and more
accustomed to playing the role of Donna. He now did his
own make-up, and had even progressed to buying a few of
his own clothes. Around the flat, the rest of the band
all treated him as a girl, and he realised that without
thinking about it, his mannerisms had altered, his
walk, his moods, even his voice. Most noticeably, the
constant constriction of his corset had had a definite
effect upon his body shape.
As he stood there night before the gig, in front of his
bedroom mirror, wearing only a tiny pair of panties, he
was amazed at what seemed to have happened. Even
without the corset, his waist seemed to remain tiny,
and he had breasts! Small maybe, but breasts
nonetheless. He cupped them in his hands, and tweaked
the nipples. He moaned softly, then turned round
swiftly as the door opened and Mac stood there
watching. The singer smiled as Don's hands
automatically went across his chest, hiding his bosom.
"Don't worry about it, Shanna said they'll go down when
you stop wearing the corset. I just want to say thank
you, you've done brilliantly and we all appreciate it,
we really do!" Don smiled and dropped his hands. He
stared at Mac. Mac stared back, then turned and walked
out. Inside Don felt, disappointed?
***
The next day arrived quickly. The band practiced hard,
then took the afternoon off. Don had plans of his own,
and went into town, spurning company, and returning to
the flat only an hour before they were due to leave for
the club. As he stood in the doorway, the guys gasped.
Before them stood, THE most stunning BLONDE! Don
grinned. He'd had his hair peroxided and now looked
like an early incarnation of Debbie Harry. He wiggled
his hips as he climbed the stairs to dress for the gig.
He stripped to his G-string, and carefully pulled on a
pair of fishnet stockings that he clipped into place on
a black lace suspender belt. Over them he slipped a
pair of black lace panties, and patted his smooth
"pussy". A black lace and leather basque, which pushed
his growing chest up and out, was followed by a tiny
black leather mini-skirt that hugged his hips and
bottom, and showed off the tops of his stockings. Thigh
length black suede boots followed, along with a black
leather jacket, and lace fingerless gloves. Lots of
silver jewelry, and he spent ages backcombing his
blonde hair, and applying a particularly wild make-up.
He felt strong and beautiful, and noticed the reaction
of everyone on his way to the club, pure lust! At least
from the males!
Breecher's face was a picture. He couldn't take his
eyes off Don, and when Don sauntered into the hallway
before the gig to get a glass of water, he was waiting
outside. His eyes drank in the female form in front of
him, and Don giggled inwardly as Hans tried his best to
chat him up. To rub insult in to injury, he patted Hans
obvious bulge and muttered something about "after the
show" and wandered back into the dressing room.
On stage the band was electric, they could do no wrong!
They did 5 encores, and Don nearly wet himself with
pleasure at the attention he got from the crowd. he
wiggled and pouted to the best of his ability, and gave
as many as he could a glimpse of cleavage, and a swift
peek up his skirt.
Back in the dressing room, the guys were ecstatic, and
began passing a joint around.
"We did it!" screamed Suds. Frazz nodded happily. Sam
giggled with the effect of the dope, while Mac simply
sat there stunned!
Don felt a stirring inside. He wanted to, he
couldn't... could he? He found himself on his feet,
reaching behind his back, to unclasp his basque. He let
it fall to the floor, and stood, staring at the four
men. He saw them stare back, oogling his breasts. He
smiled.
"Lock the door, and FUCK me!" he ordered.
There was silence. They all looked to Mac. Mac was
still. Then he strode to the door, and turned the key.
"Well, you heard the lady!" He grabbed Don roughly by
the shoulders and pulled him close.
Their lips met in a violent kiss, mouths opened and
tongues sought each other hungrily. Don was in heaven.
He felt hands roughly grabbing at his breasts, lips on
his neck, fingers groping beneath his skirt, pulling at
his panties. With a rip, they and his g-string came
away. He gasped and broke the kiss.
Mac reached out and whipped off his skirt, leaving him
standing in boots and suspender belt. Sam, cleared a
table with one swipe, and two of them grabbed his arms
and threw him onto it. Don shuddered with pleasure as
he felt his buttocks groped and tweaked. He cried out
as Frazz licked his nipples. "Jesus! Now!" he yelled.
He had never felt SO turned on! He lifted his ass
invitingly, and suddenly in front of him he saw the
purple head of a huge cock. He looked up. It was Sam,
grinning. Don licked his lips, and nodded. Sam thrust
his hips forward and Don felt the hot meat at the back
of his throat. So THIS was what it was like!?
He sucked hard, tickling and teasing, mmmmmm it was
salty and thick. He felt his hands grasped and then he
was holding Frazz in one hand and Suds in the other. He
grinned as he sucked and began to pump, wanking the two
guys at either side. The room was silent except for the
pleasured moans of the three men and the she-male on
the table, then Don felt hands below his waist, lifting
him, a slight pause, and then he yelped as Mac rammed
home, his cock sliding forcefully into Don's ass, deep
and hard. The flare of pain subsided, and a glow grew
deep in his tummy. Mac began to screw him, slowly, ten
fast, then slow again, Don pressed back trying to match
him. He licked harder, as Sam began to shudder.
"Oh god, yes!" muttered Sam.
Frazz and Suds were moaning too, and Mac was pounding
harder and harder, at the same time wanking Donna. "Oh,
yes! Yes, you bitch!" moaned Mac.
"I'm going to, aaaggghhhhh!" moaned Sam, and shot his
load.
Don gulped and swallowed the thick, hot cum. It seemed
never ending as Sam's cock pumped the thick cream into
his throat. It seemed to act as a release, as the next
moment Frazz exploded shooting semen up and across
Don's back, closely followed by Suds. Sam pulled out of
Don's mouth, allowing the "girl" to enjoy the final
seconds of her fuck, as Mac screamed and clutching
tight, bucked and came deep in "her" ass.
As he felt the waves of hot cum coursing through him,
Don gave himself over to his own orgasm and exploded,
his cum shooting up, spattering his breasts, he rolled
and twitched with the pleasure, then fell exhausted
back onto the table as Mac pulled out of his ass.
Slowly he rose to his feet, rubbing the cum into his
chest and back, licking his lips, and picked up his
skirt.
"Can Donna stay in the band??" he pouted.
THE END
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. 4-million people around the world
contract HIV every year. You only have one body per
lifetime, so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
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