Don's life changes when his roommate makes a discovery.

Afternoon of Day One: Fuck!

While I was out working at my part-time job, that prick Paul went through my stuff. He found my girl stuff, or most of it, and he laid it out on the bed where it was when I got back from the coffee shop. I couldn't believe it.

"What right do you have going through my stuff?" I yelled at him when he told me how my stuff got there. I couldn't believe how mad I was, I've never been that mad.

But he grabbed me by the front of my shirt and pushed me against the wall. "Don't yell at me, faggot," he said in a hard voice but like he was laughing at me, too. "I was looking for something and I found your perverted stuff."

"Drugs?" I guessed. "You were looking for drugs? I don't do drugs," I told him, squirming to try to get away.

He pinched my cheeks together inside my mouth with his big hand, God that hurt.

"So what? I thought you might have had some pot, so sue me. I didn't expect to find this crap. How long you been doing this?" He let me go so I could talk.

Now I was scared. He'd hurt me and he didn't think anything about it, like it was just...I don't know. I realized I could get really hurt by this guy if I weren't careful. "A while," I admitted.

"Since high school?" he asked.

I nodded.

"Before that?"

I nodded again.

"All your fucking life?" he asked, or growled, scaring me even more.

I nodded and tears were running down my face.

"So you're not just a crossdresser, you're one of them transfeminists?"

I swear that's what he said, I'd never heard of transfeminists. "I don't know?" I said.

"You ever suck a guy's cock?" he asked.

I shook my head quickly and I knew my face turned pink.

"Ever fuck a girl?" he asked.

I must have shook my head again. It hurt to admit that I was a virgin.

"Ever been fucked in the ass?" he asked.

"No!" I said. My asshole squeezed tight just thinking about it.

He laughed. "You don't know what the fuck you are," he said. "Let's find out."

I must have looked at him in terror.

He gestured at the bed. "You ever wear any of that stuff here at school?"

"No," I admitted.

"Why not?"

I looked away from him. "I was afraid to."

"Afraid I'd find out? Or someone?"

I nodded.

He looked thoughtful a moment. I was still afraid because he'd said we would find out what I was. How would he think we could do that?

"Your parents know about this? Anyone know?'

I shook my head. "I order everything online."

"This stuff fit?" he asked.

I nodded again.

"Put it on," he ordered.

I shook my head, trembling.

"Look, you pansy faggot, I want to see what you look like as a girl. If you're cute, maybe I'll let you suck my dick," he said bluntly.

I think I fell down on the floor, my legs just gave way out from under me.

He stared at me.

I tried to glare at him but I was just too scared. I started really crying and I got the hiccoughs.

"You sure cry like a sissy girl," he said, sneering. "You ain't got the balls to do what you want to do with your life which is cut off your balls. Right?" He laughed.

"What do you want?" I mumbled. "Don't hurt me."

"Oh fuck," he said. "I'm not going to hurt you, Jesus Christ. So you're a pussy, it's not like there aren't thousands of faggots and eunuchs at this school. I just want to know if you're worth it."

"Worth what?" I struggled to stop crying. He threw a box of tissue at me and I used some of them to wipe my face.

"You've never been brave enough to let anyone see you dressed as a girl?'

"Uh, no," I said.

"So, how do you know if it's worth it? I mean, it would be a damn shame if you wanted to be a girl but you would make an ugly fucking girl, huh? Personally, I think you might be pretty good looking." He snorted. "You're a weedy shrimp of a guy with no chin, but as a girl you might be all right."

I stared at him some more, unable to think of anything to say.

"Get your ass up," he ordered. He reached a hand down and yanked me to my feet. "Look, if you're just a damned queer, well maybe you can suck my cock." He actually seemed to be trying to make me think he was being reasonable. "But I ain't queer, so it can't go no further than that."

I stammered something. He pushed me toward the bathroom we shared. "Take a shower, get as girly as you can. Dress up and do your makeup, all that shit. I swear to God, if you're even passable as a girl, I'll treat you like one." He grinned. "And then you can suck my cock."

I staggered into the bathroom and he dragged a chair over to sit in the door.

He took a very macho pose, the chair turned backward with him straddling it.

"You shave your legs?" he asked.

I nodded, turning pink again.

"Sweet," he said. "Shave everything, legs, face, pits, what you've got where you ought to have a pussy. Can't stand a girl with a hairy cunt," he added.

He took something out of an Altoids tin and stuck it in his face and lit it with a tiny Bic lighter. I smelled the sweet burning grass smell of pot, I'd never smoked any but I knew what it smelled like.

"You can't..." I started.

He waved smoke at me. "You going to stop me?" he asked. He sucked on the joint so it glowed red, then said in a tight voice, "C'mere."

I hesitated and he glared at me so I edged closer.

He grabbed me and pulled my face down next to his. "Inhale," he ordered in that funny voice with smoke curling around his lips. Then he pressed his mouth to mine and blew into my mouth.

I coughed and choked but some of the sweet, spicy smoke got down into my lungs. It terrified me, I felt that it would instantly turn me into a drug addict.

He laughed, taking another pull on the joint after he released me. "You better turn into some fine looking piece of ass," he warned. "I ain't never frenched a boy before and I don't want this to be a precedent." He blew smoke into the bathroom with me. I realized that when the light in the bathroom was on the exhaust fan automatically came on so all the smoke would be pulled through the bathroom and blown out the exhaust; no one in the hallway outside our room would smell it.

I blundered around the bathroom, getting soap and washcloths and razor ready. I didn't see what choice I had. Did the prick intend to watch me the whole time?

"You need anything out here?" he asked, almost politely. "Smellum, lotion, shampoo?" My regular bathroom stuff was already handy but the lavender and aloe shaving lotions I used for girl-type shaving and my strawberry shampoo were on the bed. He handed them over without getting out of the doorway.

I had no hope of escape and calling for help seemed out of the question. What would I tell any potential rescuer?

"Do you have to watch me?" I complained.

"Oh yeah." He grinned. "Watching is lots of fun." He spewed more smoke in my face. I felt dizzy but whether from the marijuana fumes or just the pressure of what was happening, I couldn't tell.

I ran the water in the shower to get the temperature right. I had to strip while Paul watched me. He kept grinning but made no comments. I tried to conceal my crotch from him, even while stripping naked.

When I stepped into the shower, he changed his position, coming into the bathroom and sitting on the closed toilet. He propped the shower door open with his foot so he could watch me.

I protested, raising my voice over the sound of the running water, "The floor will get all wet."

"Yeah," he agreed. "Who do you think will have to clean it up, pussy boy?"

The shower water mixed with my tears. At least he didn't make me face him while I did everything he commanded, shampooing twice, then shaving my face, arms, legs, pits, chest and crotch. The last very carefully, though I did nick myself on the wrinkled skin. It bled a lot for such a small cut and the blood washed down the shower drain.

Paul the prick did make one comment. "You can use a styptic on that when you get out," he said.

I almost screamed at him then.

When I turned the shower off, he handed me a towel, the biggest fluffiest one we had, one of his. "You ain't got any girly towels," he accused.

After patting myself dry, I wrapped up in the big, blue towel, sarong-fashion, with another smaller towel, one of mine, around my head in a turban. We moved back to the bedroom of our tiny "suite".

He stared at me while I contemplated my treasures he had scattered across the bed. I owned several pairs of panties, I sometimes slept in them; two bras with the plastic gel inserts to give me shape; a padded girdle, a white slip and two dresses--besides assorted other things that seemed irrelevant.

"You pass," he said, interrupting my thoughts.

"What?" I asked.

"You, you're a girl," he pointed at me, grinning. "You're even kind of cute."

I know I turned red.

"Ah," he announced, "she's blushing." He seemed hugely amused.

"What--what convinced you?" I asked.

He laughed out loud. "The way you looked at your things; even though you've only got two dresses and a pair of shorts, you looked just like one of my sisters looking over a closetful of stuff."

Okay, I laughed too, well, I probably giggled. I think I laughed from relief, Paul seemed a lot less threatening now. But when he stood up, I flinched.

"I'm going out," he said. "Get all dolled up and I'll take you out to dinner."

"What?"

"Do your makeup first, my sisters always did so they could be careful not to get anything on their nice stuff. Put on your best show, I'm taking you to dinner," he repeated.

"I've never--"

"First time for everything," he said, looking sly. "You probably won't be a virgin after tonight either."