It was my own silly fault. Not for the first time, I was the architect of my own downfall; it had happened before and it would happen again. Notwithstanding that I was only 12 years old, I should have known better. I was spending the summer holiday with the Grants and their 16 year old daughter Alice. The Grants were quite rich and lived in a very grand house, set in several acres of well-manicured gardens. I had stayed there before, two years ago when I was 10. I liked Mr and Mrs Grant, but I was especially fond of Alice. She had been 14 then and was sympathetic to the timid and rather effeminate young boy that I was. The room that had been Alice's nursery had been converted into her playroom, and along with all her toys, it contained the biggest, fully-furnished dolls' house that anyone had ever seen, and in one corner, by the big bay window, was a massive, grey rocking horse. I had spent many happy hours in there with Alice, re-arranging the fittings in the dolls' house, playing with her tea-seat, and rocking back and forth on the giant horse. But now that Alice was 16, and on the verge of young womanhood, she had "put away childish things".

It was a pleasant summer's day, but clouds had gathered and now a fine drizzle of rain blanketed the countryside. Mrs Grant and Alice had taken the train into the city and Mr Grant had been called away on business. Alone in the playroom, I stared wistfully out through the playroom windows. With no-one to play with I was lonely and bored.

I wandered out of the playroom and walked slowly down the first floor landing toward Alice's bedroom. I hesitated outside her bedroom door. I had no conscious plan in my mind but slowly reached out and turned the door-knob. Alice's bedroom was a typical teenage girl's room; the bed was unmade, clothes were scattered around the room, and stuffed toys and dolls cluttered the chairs and the settee and the window ledges. The room and the house were silent, save for the heavy ticking of the grandfather clock in the main hall downstairs. My heart was beating as I approached a chest of drawers. I carefully pulled the top drawer open and there inside lay a tangled mess of Alice's underwear. A pair of powder blue panties caught my eye and I picked them up and held them to my face. They were so silky and scented faintly of lavender. Without stopping to consider my motives, I quickly removed my short trousers and underpants and stepped into the panties. I drew them slowly up my hairless leg and found them pleasantly snug around my girlish thighs, then I tucked in my little genitals and pulled the panties on completely. Excited at my daring, I tip-toed over to the chevalier mirror to admire myself but my shirt-tails obstructed my view. I quickly threw off my shirt and kicked my shoes off. I posed before the mirror and felt an electric tingle in my willie. Looking around, my eyes rested on the double wardrobe and I skipped to it across the room and threw open the doors. I had never seen so many clothes on hangers and recognised a lot of the frocks that Alice used to wear when we played together And there was my favourite! A frock in a delicate pink with white lacy trim on the arms that stopped well above the elbow, and a skirt that flared out and that was also hemmed with lace. I took it down off its hanger and drew it down over my head, then pulled it down around my slim torso. The hem came only half way down my thighs and the skirt stuck out like a ballet dancer's tutu. I stepped back and was going back over to the mirror but paused at the chest of drawers, then stooped down and pulled out the second drawer. I was rewarded with the sight of socks and nylon stockings. The latter confused me but the socks I understood. I picked out a pair of small, white ankle socks with frilly turn-overs at the top, much favoured by little school girls. I wasted no time in pulling off my own socks and putting the ankle socks on.

Then I returned to the mirror. I was so excited at the reflection that greeted me! I did a quick turn and looked back over my shoulder at my rear view and felt again that electric twinge in my private parts. It was a shame I didn't have a wig to complete the transformation but I was as happy and excited as I could remember. In the bottom of the wardrobe was a pair of shiny black Mary Jane type shoes. They were a bit big but I slipped them on anyway!

I pranced out of the bedroom and went happily back to the playroom and lay down on my stomach on the carpet in front of the dolls house and began playing with the miniature fittings.

~~~

Mr Grant was not a happy man! He had driven to an unscheduled meeting on the other side of town only to find that it had been cancelled. He was driving back and cursing the fine rain that kept obliterating his windscreen. Then he drew off the main road and headed toward the park. He stopped several yards from the iron entrance gates and turned off the engine. At the side of the gates were the public toilets and Mr Grant kept them under observation for several minutes, but he saw no men going in or out, or loitering. He cursed the weather again, massaging his frustrated erection, there would be little chance of any queers or perverts visiting the toilets in this weather! He waited another ten minutes, then started the Jaguar up again and headed back home. As he drove, he realised that he was going to be alone with Francis for the rest of the day, and wondered how he was going to entertain the orphan boy. Perhaps he could leave him alone with a jig-saw puzzle.

Mr Grant drove straight into the double garage and entered the house through the connecting door, into the kitchen. He threw the car keys down onto the kitchen table and poured himself a stiff drink. He loosened his tie and walked through into the main hall. He supposed Francis would be in the playroom and quietly made his way up the carpeted staircase, one hand holding his glass of whisky, the other gripping the polished bannister rail.

He opened the playroom door and stopped in his tracks, shocked and bewildered – there on the floor lay a young girl completely engrossed in playing with the dolls house!

~~~

It would be difficult to say who was the more shocked. I didn't actually hear the door of the playroom open, but was immediately aware of the presence of someone in the room. I span around and saw an open-mouthed Mr Grant, standing there as large as life, and I scrambled in panic to my feet.

"What the devil is going on?" cried Mr Grant, now recognising me as the mystery girl.

I was dumb-struck, what could I possibly say? Instead I stood there to attention, my hands crossed in front of me, my head bowed in shame and embarrassment.

"How dare you!" Mr Grant hissed, sucking in a large gulp of whisky, "How dare you?"

The silence that followed was deafening, I was scarlet red with fear, and Mr Grant was temporarily speechless.

~~~

In those few seconds, that seemed like an eternity to the boy, Mr Grant feasted his greedy eyes on the figure before him, and felt his hungry penis stiffen. The boy was gorgeous and at his mercy!

~~~

Mr Grant strode forward toward the cowering 12-year old me.

"You have abused our trust!", he shouted, "you have betrayed our hospitality! What kind of disgusting behaviour is this?"

I cringed and just wanted the earth to swallow me up, for the world to end in a big bang right now. I could not answer, knew not what to say, I couldn't raise my eyes or look my accuser in the face.

"What is Alice going to think when she finds out that you have invaded her privacy, and rifled through her bedroom?" Mr Grant ranted on, taking another gulp of the single malt.

The tick of the clock downstairs was the only break in the silence. Tears sprang to the corner of my eyes.

"Please don't tell anyone" I whimpered, "please don't tell Alice or Mrs Grant".

A cunning calm had now descended on Mr Grant, who put his glass on the sideboard and approached the boy. It was eleven o'clock, another five hours before Mrs Grant and Alice were due home.

"Such behaviour must be punished" said Mr Grant, "and how can I not tell Alice what you have done. She will be disgusted when she finds out that you have been dirtying her clothes?"

"Please sir" I begged, still not able to raise my eyes or look my tormentor in the face, "can't I be punished without you having to tell them?".

Punishment to me meant having to write out 100 lines at best, or at worst, getting a spanking, but I just wanted all this to be over, to be able to get back into my own clothes, and I knew that I would never be welcome into this lovely house again if I didn't make amends.

~~~

Mr Grant thrust his heavy hand into his trouser pocket, he had to adjust himself, his raging hard-on was caught up in his underpants. He stepped right up in front of the cowering, tearful boy.

~~~

"If you are going to dress like a naughty girl" he said, "and if you are going to behave like a naughty girl, then you are going to have to be treated like a naughty girl. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir", I muttered.

"Louder girl!" shouted Mr Grant.

"Yes sir" I replied, much louder and now daring to look up at Mr Grant.

"And you are going to have to be punished like a naughty girl, aren't you?"

"Yes sir" was my miserable reply.

"Now" said Mr Grant, now visibly more relaxed and in control, "what is your name?"

I didn't understand, what did he mean "What is your name?" He knew it quite well.

"Francis" I replied.

"No, what is your girly name?" Mr Grant asked.

I couldn't believe it, How did Mr Grant know? No-one knew that I had a special girly name for myself, I had only thought it up myself an hour ago! It wasn't possible!

"Wendy" I confessed.

"Well Wendy" Mr Grant answered, finishing off the rest of his drink in one swallow, "that is a very pretty name for a very pretty girl, and a very pretty name for a very naughty girl. Now Wendy, I want you to take hold of the hem of your skirt and raise it up as high as it will go"

I couldn't imagine it, but things were getting worse, now Mr Grant would see that I was also wearing a pair of Alice's panties.

"Please" I begged, "can't you just punish me and forgive me?".

"Wendy, you dirty little girl" Mr Grant said, "I won't ask you again"

Slowly, I took the hem of the skirt in both hands and ever so slowly, began to raise it.

~~~

Mr Grant loved Francis's dimpled knees, but he was even more enamoured by his girlish, hairless thighs. And then he was treated to the sight of the powder-blue panties that encased the pre-pubescent boy's loins. The thin material was tight on the flesh of Francis's thighs and the shape of his little genitals were clearly outlined. Mr Grant sighed inwardly with lust and had to clear his throat,

~~~

"Now turn around Wendy, and raise the back of the skirt".

I was glad not to have to face Mr Grant any longer, and turned my back to the man and pulled up the skirt to reveal my backside. Mr Grant drank in the wonderful view of the back of those boy-thighs and the marvelous boy-buttocks, not fat but well-pronounced. He felt pre-cum beginning to drool from his engorged member.

I didn't know whether his punishment had started or not, if shame and humiliation were part of the punishment, but standing with my back to Mr Grant, exposing my bottom, felt strange; I kept getting thrilling feelings in my willie and I felt it begin to stiffen. Was Mr Grant laughing at me or admiring me? I just wished that it would all end soon.

"Now Wendy, I want you to skip right around the room, but keep holding your skirt up high" Now I was confused. I started off skipping around the playroom, holding the skirt up and feeling very silly.

~~~

Mr Grant watched the movement of the boy's body and buttocks as he skipped around like a silly girl.

~~~

After three circuits Mr Grant told me to stop.

"Now, come on over to the rocking horse" he said.

I obeyed and stood alongside the rocking horse.

"Alright Wendy, I want you to pull up your panties really tight as high as they will go"

I grasped hold of the flimsy material of the panties and tugged it up as hard and tight as it would go. Mr Grant flipped up the skirt and admired the view. "I want them higher and tighter than that" he said, "I am going to spank you and I want your bottom cheeks quite bare".

I blushed and managed to get the panties even tighter, so that the material was now tight in the crease between my bottom cheeks, like a thong.

~~~

"That's better Wendy" sighed Mr Grant. He looked at Francis's peach-like bottom, and was overcome with the urge to lick and suck and bite into those creamy cheeks.

~~~

"Now climb up onto the rocking horse" he said.

I stepped up onto the rail and put one foot into the stirrup. The girth of the horse was so wide that I had to part my legs as wide as I could and struggled into the saddle, my thighs painfully parted.

"Now lean forward Wendy, lay your head on the horse's head and wrap your arms around its neck".

I did as I was told, and was now in the perfect position for a good spanking. It started off slowly but each smack from Mr Grant's hard hand left a pink impression on those perfect bottom cheeks. I squealed and yelped like a puppy dog but my cries were music to Mr Grant's ears. There was no-one in the big house to hear my cries of distress, and Mr Grant's spanking got harder.

~~~

Mr Grant was in a lustful frenzy of delight, and had to pause as he feared a premature ejaculation, but then continued, now spanking the back and the inside of those delicious, virgin thighs.

~~~

I squirmed and cried and my tears ran down the wooden horse's neck but as I writhed against the saddle, my little willie stiffened and my pain was balanced by those electric thrills of pleasure.

~~~

Mr Grant only stopped when his arm grew tired and he feared he may bruise or mark the queer boy's flesh.

~~~

"Stay right where you are, you naughty little girl-boy!" he shouted, and strode from the room.

I lay across the horse, sobbing and rubbing the tender flesh of my beautiful bottom.

Surely that was the end of it, I asked myself?

~~~

As Mr Grant made his exit, he swept up the empty glass and made his way down the staircase and across the hall and into the kitchen. His heart was pounding, his throat was dry and his penis was bursting to be free. Mr Grant splashed more scotch and took a gulp. He threw himself down onto a kitchen chair and quickly unzipped his trousers. He looked down at his erection and his penis stared straight back at him, another pearl of precum forming at its tip. His shirt-tails and underpants were sticky and he made a futile attempt to wipe them clean.

He had to calm down, he had to get a grip, upstairs he had a beautiful young boy dressed as a girl, stretched out face-down, awaiting his pleasure. It was all his dreams come true and now he was over-excited and shaking like a leaf. He wanted to go straight back upstairs and let his lust loose on the boy, he wanted to defile and abuse his body, he wanted to suck on and bite into those creamy buttocks, he wanted to stretch the cheeks wide apart and sodomise the boy's virgin anus, he wanted to hear the boy cry and beg and whimper.

He took hold of his raging prick and crushed it in his fist. But he couldn't attack the boy, not now, not today. He wanted Francis to visit over the Christmas holiday and next year's Easter and summer holidays. He would write to the orphanage to arrange it. He mustn't damage the goods, mustn't kill the golden goose. Mr Grant did his best to compose himself and decided to change his approach. He was reminded of 'Good cop. Bad cop'. He had been aggressive and angry but now he would change course and try to make amends by seducing the little queer.

~~~

My position was becoming uncomfortable and I took advantage of Mr Grant's absence to sit up in the saddle and adjust my cramped position. It was strange how the pain and the pleasure seemed to happen together. Then I heard Mr Grant climbing the stairs, and threw myself down again across the horse's neck and raised my bare bottom into the air and closed my eyes.

~~~

All Mr Grant's good intentions evaporated when he stepped into the playroom and beheld again the vision of the prostrate boy with those blushing buttocks on offer. "Just another few smacks", he decided.

Mr Grant first caressed those glowing cheeks, then spanked the back of Francis's thighs. He ended with another pattern of blows to the bottom, revelling in the way the muscles clenched as the boy twisted and turned but endured his just punishment.

~~~

"Now Wendy" said Mr Grant, "you can climb down and dry your tears". I slid down from the saddle, wiping my tear-stained face and then rubbing my roasting bottom.

~~~

The panties were still pulled up tight like a thong, exaggerating the length of the boy's private bulge. Mr Grant drank in the sight, then went out and along the passage to Alice's bedroom. He picked up Francis's clothes from the floor where he had abandoned them and carried them back to the playroom.

~~~

When I saw my clothes in Mr Grant's hands, I breathed a sigh of relief and assumed my ordeal was finally over.

"Now get out of Alice's clothes" Mr Grant said as he sat on the settee. I quickly stripped naked in front of the man and then stood there, expecting Mr Grant to hand over my clothes.

~~~

Mr Grant stared silently at the wonderful boy's body – so slender and clean but so firm and fleshy where it mattered. And so innocent!

~~~

Mr Grant patted the seat next to him, "Now come and sit here" he said.

Nervously, the naked me sat down next to the fully-clothed adult. I felt so small and vulnerable. Mr Grant put a reassuring arm around my narrow shoulders and gave me a hug.

"Now Wendy" he continued, "you have been a very naughty boy. Mrs Grant and Alice are very fond of you, but can you imagine how they would feel if they knew what you had done? Do you think you would still be welcome if they knew what you are really like?

I shook my head miserably.

"You are fond of Alice aren't you?" asked Mr Grant, "and you want to come and stay with us again, don't you?" This time, I nodded my head and said "Yes sir".

"Well, you have had your punishment and there is no need why anybody else should ever know. We will keep it as our special secret" and Mr Grant gave me another hug.

I felt a wave of relief and gratitude sweep over me, and at that very moment a gap appeared through the rain-soaked clouds and a shaft of sunlight filled the room. I felt as if a great weight had been lifted from me.

I offered no resistance as Mr Grant drew me on to his lap, and I buried my tear-stained face into the man's chest. "Now Wendy, give me a nice, thank you kiss" said Mr Grant.

I raised my face intending to kiss him on the cheek, but Mr Grant pressed his lips to my mouth and I tasted whisky and tobacco on the man's tongue.

I had never been kissed on the mouth before and I found the experience strange but not unpleasant. I responded by pushing my own tongue into Mr Grant's mouth. We kissed for a while, and I wrapped my slender arms tight around Mr Grant's neck.

"Now Wendy, spread your legs wide, I want to play with your boy bits" said Mr Grant, and I did as I was told. I took my arms from around his neck and lay back in his lap, then I spread my legs as wide as I could, and shuddered as Mr Grant's big, hot hand began fondling me. Mr Grant gripped my stiff penis and little balls, "Would you like to be my girlfriend Wendy?" he asked,

"Oh yes please sir!" I gasped.

The End