Bus rides can be adventures, from brutally humiliating to romantically fulfilling...
The Greatest Lie
Chapter 2
Don’t You Hate Buses?

WARNING! This story meant solely for adult audiences! It contains scenes of graphic sex and forcible rape described in first person narration by its transgendered, teenage protagonist. If you are not an adult, or if you find this type of material offensive, please stop reading, hit the back key or dispose of this file. You have been warned of the content. If you proceed neither the author nor the site host will be held responsible! This story is purely fictional. All resemblance to actual persons is coincidental.

The Greatest Lie

By Alexandra Rios

Chapter 2
Don’t You Hate Buses?

Never take a long distance bus if other transportation is available. If I had just lobbied my parents a little harder, they probably would have sprung for the plane fare for my summer school session at Minnesota. They were still pissed at me about the problems I had at the end of senior year, but those same problems made it imperative that I get out of town. After all, when a teenage cross-dresser like me has been gang banged by a Latino gang once, it its only a matter of time before they (or their friends) come back for seconds, or even more.

Just spending a few minutes at the Greyhound Bus Station in downtown LA was enough to convince me that the creeps and losers that I was escaping from must have come from large families, because this place was full of them. The thought of spending three days on a bus with a cross section of this lumpen proletariat made me sick and fearful.

Although I hid behind my Raybans, they gravitated to me. A greasy bearded, tattooed middle-aged loser beckoned to me from the bench opposite me. I pretended to ignore him, but he rose and took the empty seat next to me. He hissed in my ear, "I tol-jah ta come eeer, pretty boy." He clamped his callused hand on my skinny forearm. "Wassa matter, dincha get it?" A flash of genius struck, and I responded "Je ne parle pas l’Anglais." He looked at me with disgust and stalked off, not noticing the Los Angeles Times lying on my lap.

That narrow escape brought me back to my immediate dilemma, the painfully distended bladder full of pee, and my fear of going to the men’s room at this dump. I hate public rest rooms, and have a difficult time peeing if I even think that somebody might be watching me. The alternative, waiting and trying to pee in the swaying rear of a moving Greyhound while all of the passengers watched and waited, seemed even more daunting, so I took my carryon bag of estrogen, female dainties, and amphetamines and skulked as invisibly as I could to the john.

The public bathroom was even worse than I imagined. Instead of urinals, it had a long, canal-like trough, which was lined with pissing travelers. Even though I was wearing boy’s undies for this voyage, just the thought of pointing my tiny, estrogen-shrunk penis over a fetid river of piss, while being watched by a long row of real men pissing loudly and freely from real penises, gave me a bashful bladder. So I opted for the most remote of the littered, wet-floored and graffiti-covered stalls. Even though I preferred to pee sitting down, I would rather have died than have sat on the damp, sticky seat. So I squatted and waited nervously for the pressure in my bladder to overcome the nervous sphincter of my little cock. After a long wait, the pee came.

I pulled up my now unfamiliar boy’s briefs and struggled to hoist my tight Levi’s over my rounded tush. Why was I so nervous, I wondered? When I opened the stall door, I had every good reason to be nervous: there lurked the guy with the greasy beard from the waiting room, pretending to be waiting his turn for my stall. He covered my mouth with one hand and shoved my chest up against the wall, banging me so hard that my Raybans went flying, exposing my fear-filled baby blues. He snapped shut the door latch and put a 5" buck knife to my throat, hissing "sh-sh-sh" menacingly. With his other hand, he fumbled with his belt, button and fly, and his greasy jeans slid down his legs, revealing a long, partly hardened cock. He pointed to it, and nodded commandingly. I nodded back and knelt on the slimy, piss-sprayed floor, remembering not to regain my command of English. I lifted his tumescent member into my mouth.

He was uncut, when his head slipped out from under his foreskin it released a stale and sour slough of dried sweat and dead skin, which his pulsing prick pushed to the back of my throat. The reddish mass of his pubic hair was rough and clumpy, like it hadn’t been washed for a week, and it scraped rather than tickled the soft skin of my face and lips.

His filth was so overpowering that I could barely taste his pre-cum.

His shaft was long and ridged with veins. It was long and thin enough to pass my tonsils and slide down my esophagus, so I easily deep throated him. He placed both hands on the nape of my neck and forced my head up and down his long, slender shaft, my gag reflex rebelling at each forceful shove. I controlled it and steadied my motion by bracing on his hairy ass, keeping my fingers well away from his crack. Clearly, this character liked to be in control.

And controlling he was, ramming my face so hard and long that I began to pay attention to the public address announcements for fear of missing my bus. Too speed things up, I slipped one of my hands up between his legs and began massaging his blood-engorged balls. He moaned and began pulsing faster, and then the motion became jerky and more random and his load filled my mouth. And a huge load it was: I had to swallow three gulps to get it all down and keep my sweatshirt clean. When he was done, he tilted my face upward, as if to study it. Then, he spat in my face, slapped me and wordlessly opened the door and left.

I was alone, wet kneed on the filthy toilet floor, spit mixed with tears of humiliation dripping down my flushed and stinging cheeks. Then, I heard my bus announced. I grabbed my Raybans and bag, pulled myself to my feet, rinsed my hands and face and hurriedly gargled with the cold water of the stained and paper towel-stuffed sink. I ran off to my bus and jumped aboard just as the doors were about to close. God, I thought, if this is the real world, it’s even worse than high school! I noted with relief that greasy beard was not a passenger on my bus.

I found a window seat next to a Mexican woman and tried to compose myself. What rotten luck I had. When I dress as a boy, my effeminate good loos attracted the worst weirdoes of this world. I didn’t have the I.D., or the nerve, to pass full time as a girl. I felt trapped and helpless. Fortunately, this bus was filled with modest working folk returning to their families or heading off to factories or fields. I found their ordinariness comforting. None of them would take an interest in me, I hoped.

When we were on the Interstate, I went to the bathroom, bag in hand. I stuck my finger down my sore throat and forced myself to vomit. I washed my face and brushed my teeth about five times, to get the foul taste of my assailant out of my mouth. To get him out of my memory, I bared my ass and injected a double dose of estrogen, and popped a couple of tabs of Valium.

Then, to further boost my morale, I changed out of my jockeys and put on some flowered cotton panties and a matching training bra. I looked in the spotted and swaying mirror, and realized I looked frazzled and ashen. I put on a little mascara and eye shadow, and some lip gloss, and felt much better. I covered up with my Raybans and a baseball cap, returned to my seat by my Mexican madre. The estrogen/Valium combo, together with the rumble of the bus through the desert, worked their magic, and my troubles slipped away into sleep.

I must have slept through a stop or two because when I woke up "Mother Mexico" was gone, and replaced by a uniformed, six foot tall soldier. I was startled and thrilled: he was gorgeous, but sound asleep. I climbed gingerly over his massive thighs, to take a pee and make some preparations for some serious conversation after he awoke. He would be the perfect antidote to old greasy beard. I asked the driver our next stop: six hours non- stop to Denver, where I had a layover. Plenty of time to get acquainted and to make plans for a very special "lay" over.

In the bathroom, I prepared myself for "whatever" by douching my ass. No matter how little I eat, traveling always constipates me. How gross! I held it as long as I could as it swirled like a wild tide with the sway of the bus over the mountainous highway. I squeezed it in, imagining I was pregnant and in labor with the soldier’s baby. I brushed out my hair, applied foundation, spritzed with a subtle Eau de Toilet; interrupted, occasionally, by urgent feelings and expulsions from my gut. I changed from my bulky sweatshirt to a tight, rolled neck T, and draped a simple gold chain around my neck. For inspiration, I popped a black beauty and attached a couple of estrogen patches to the undersides of my nubile breasts. By the time I was done, I heard urgent knocking and angry Spanish through the door, but my tush was squeaky clean, empty, and lightly lubed, and I looked really cute. I stepped over the sleeping soldier again, this time gently brushing his thigh with my butt as I settled in my seat.

He stirred in the mid morning glare, squinted, turned to me, squinted again, and rumbled "Whoa, excuse you, Miss, errr, Good Morning!" He was befuddled by sleep and by the vision of me. I flipped back my baseball cap, raised my Raybans, and batted my eyes.

"Good Morning to you, soldier." Well, it emerged he was not really a soldier, Air Force Reserve, whatever that was, but what the hell. I wasn’t really a Miss, either. But I would explain that later.

His name was Jake, he had gone straight into the service out of high school, gone to college on government grants, and now he had to re-up for another year of active duty and three more in the Reserves. The problem was, he didn’t really like it any more.

After college (he had gone to Minnesota for two years!) the Air Force guys all seemed too rah-rah! He was sick of it and glad he had only six months left. I listened attentively, nodding, flirting, and agreeing with everything. Then I told him I was on my way to start college at Minnesota.

He was so excited, telling me all about the wonderful people and experiences. "You make it sound like Athens in the tundra," I said. He agreed completely, describing it as being like a modern day Greece set down in the Mid West. I told him how glad I was to be escaping LA. He wondered why. It seemed so tolerant, hedonistic, and creative. Not my high school, I said.

"Well, nobody’s high school is! Anyhow, you’re gonna love Minnesota."

But first, I thought, I am going to love you. "But enough about me," I cooed. "What’s next for you?"

"I have a couple of days leave in Denver, then I report to an air base in Colorado Springs, which sucks!" he said. I smiled inwardly. Soldier, you’re gonna have a leave in Denver that both sucks and fucks. I mentally rearranged my travel plans to defer my arrival in Minnesota.

By the time we pulled into Denver, we had made plans to get together for dinner and a night out exploring the city. We split up to get to our hotels, but I was so sure of myself that I changed in the ladies room at the bus station and saved my hotel money. I hadn’t eaten since LA, but I still wasn’t hungry, so I popped another black cad and a couple of Premarin. My estrogen level felt high, and my nipples and breasts ached with sensation when I pulled off the patches, but they had never looked bigger. They quivered and jiggled as I sponge-bathed in one of the ladies room toilet stalls. I felt better after I had cleaned my ass and cockette with a damp towel, and spritzed more Eau de Cologne all over. It felt cool and shriveled my balls nicely. Then I moisturized and lubed myself lightly.

It felt good to get out of my dirty-kneed Levi’s and into a pair of Capri’s and my mules.

None of the ladies batted an eye as I preened in the mirror, adding lipstick to my gloss, and color to my cheeks. I popped some dainty gold hoops in my ears to match the necklace. The woman next to me noticed my self-inspection and commented "Don’t worry honey, you look great!" I was so thrilled. I thanked her, wondering how I would tell Jake about my special problem.

We had agreed to meet at one of those beer and burger places, and I arrived first and ordered a diet coke. Like clockwork, one of the local losers sidled up. Blowing cigarette smoke toward my face, he began pestering me. "Where r’you from, what’s your name, what’s your sign, I’m Cancer."

"Right," I agreed. "You do remind me of a cancer: lung cancer," I replied haughtily.

He stupidly mumbled, "Fuck you, cunt," and walked back to his lonely table. I was thrilled at my bitchy brilliance, and delighted that he had thought I was a girl.

Jake arrived moments after I brushed off the pick up guy, and told the bartender we needed a table. We ordered but I was so cranked that I ate little. I noticed he ate heartily but had good manners. I asked him a lot of questions about himself and let him ramble on. I knew that guys liked that, since I had been one. And that kept the conversation off the delicate question of my background.

After dinner, we took a walk in the cool evening. He held my little hand tenderly in his, and when we paused to view a pretty vista, he put his muscular arm around my narrow shoulders. I turned my head, looked into his eyes and said, "I’m cold". With that he gathered me in his arms and gave me the first real romantic kiss of my life as a girl, as he gently stoked my upper arms and back. He was built like a marble statue, and I melted.

After an eternity, his lips broke contact with my trembling mouth, and he asked, "Did that warm you up?"

I replied, "I’m boiling now", and he laughed. We were near his hotel, so he suggested that we go back there and get an extra sweatshirt for me. I readily agreed.

It would be ridiculously big on me, but I wasn’t planning on going back outside that night anyhow.

We went to his room and I went to the bathroom to freshen up my cologne and tush. I hadn’t eaten for days, and my ass felt clean and fresh when I probed it with a finger full of KY. Tingling all over from my self inspection, I resolved to confront the issue that I had been ducking and dreading. Jake was sitting on the bed. I sat down beside him, and began my confession, my head hanging , and my eyes staring at my pretty little feet.

"Jake, I’m different from the other girls you have met."

"What do you mean?"

Tears streamed down my face, and emotion choked my throat. This was it, the moment of devastating rejection or acceptance as a special kind of girl.

In a hoarse and halting voice, I admitted "I have been a girl as long as I can remember, but I was born in a boy’s body." My voice was overcome with involuntary sobs as these words passed my lips, which spread and spasmed through my body. It was the first time I had ever dared admit this out loud. My eyes were blinded, and my ears deafened by the force of my emotional response to this devastating admission. I did not know if Jake would kick me out onto the street, beat me senseless, or accept me into his heart. I was so overwhelmed by the pain of articulating the secret that I had hidden inside me for so many years, and so overcome by my intense desire to be possessed by him, that I practically lost consciousness.

The first sensation I had was of his arms around my shoulders, pressing my teary face against his chest, and of the whispered words, "That’s OK, baby," in my ears. My eyes still blinded with tears, I lifted my face from his chest to meet a chaste kiss on my lips. I responded and was soon experiencing for the first time from the girl’s side a truly hot and passionate kiss. I let my lips yield and open and felt his warm tongue enter and stroke mine. My arms were pinned to my sides by his embrace, but when he relaxed his grip to allow his hands to explore the tingling territory from my waist to my tingling breasts, I left them there, as if I were now his willing prisoner. The increasing passion of his kisses tilted my head back and as I continued to melt under his embrace, he rolled me back on the bed and lay atop me. His kisses paused, and for the first time I opened my eyes.

"You sure don’t look, feel or kiss like a boy," he said, and resumed his exploration of my breasts, bottom and mouth.

My relief at these words released all my pent-up desire and horniness. I had been on hormones for over four months now and they had so totally overcome the boy hormones that I had not cum since Seth had brought me to climax at the end of my Prom nightmare.

The press of Jake’s well muscled, 6’1" frame on my petite and estrogen softened figure filled me with exquisite sensations to match the emotions that filled my heart, and these built on each other to a nearly unbearable passion. The next time his lips released mine, I gasped, "I’m boiling. Let’s undress!" I pulled my top over my head, tousling my long hair over my face like a gauzy veil, and wriggled out of my Capri’s. I left my bra and panties for him. He returned to me, naked and hard, unhooked my bra, and began alternating kisses of my breasts and lips as he gently stroked the front of my panties. I lay back passively and gave him free reign over my body. My one inch nipples grew hard and rose to the tingling touch of his tongue and lips. My little cockette did the same under his gentle massage, despite the speed and hormones.

After about two minutes of this, I could not stand receiving without giving back. I hoarsely whispered, "OK, my turn!" and he released my from the gentle prison of his embrace. I rose and knelt between his knees, then bowed to worship his circumcised, eight inch cock. As I took it in my mouth, I reveled in its fresh, meaty taste, which was immediately and pleasantly seasoned by his ocean-scented pre-cum. I began tentatively, not wanting to show immediately the full extent of my painfully gained oral experience.

He guided my head lightly, and I picked up the pace and introduced some tongue flicks and flutters, as I took him ever deeper into my mouth and throat. He certainly was well hung, long and thick, and his testicles, which I now cupped in my little palm, were huge and hard. He was breathing hard, but I did not want him to climax yet, so I paused, and as his eyes opened, I said, appreciatively, "Yum."

He lifted me up and onto bed and again sat over me, as I looked up at him adoringly. He kissed me, enjoying the first flavors of his manhood in my mouth. Then, he gripped the waistband of my panties and began to slide them down. As he did, I searched his eyes for his reaction. They did widen when my tiny cockette popped out, but only momentarily. I wriggled my hips to help him, and soon my panties were dangling from one ankle as he took my tiny but erect cock and firm compact scrotum as a single mouthful, while with one hand he fondled my breasts and with the other, explored the crevasse of my rounded ass. I moaned gratefully in response. As minutes passed, waves of blinding ecstasy swept over me, and when his fingers at last found the doorway to my tight hole, I was on the verge of my first climax in months.

I said, "Stop", and he looked at me, surprised and hurt.

"What’s the matter, baby" he asked.

"It’s OK, I said, I just don’t want to cum that way. Just a minute. Stay here", I said, as I made a last trip to the bathroom. I quickly checked the condition of my hairless bum. It was pristine, and I applied a generous dab of lubricant. I fluffed my hair, added a little gloss to my swollen lips. I grabbed a condom, then decided against it. He was lying on the bed, slightly softened, so I plopped down beside him and quickly brought him to full attention with a dozen deft stokes of my lube-covered hand. I looked lovingly into his eyes and said boldly, "I want you to fuck me now."

He looked happy and relieved. "I’m just dying to fuck you but I was afraid to ask. I don’t want to hurt you."

"That’s OK," I said, "just remember to start slow."

"I’ll try," he said. I lay on my back and lifted my ankles to his shoulders, raising my ass into perfect position for him. He pressed his dick-head gently against my hole, and we beheld each other silently for a moment.

"OK," I sighed, and he pressed forward, as I pressed my sphincters down. As his head slipped through the tight ring of my anus I gasped, and he thoughtfully stopped. As tears rose in my eyes, I concentrated on relaxing my ass muscles. "OK, go on" I said, gritting my teeth and pressing down as another massive inch slipped up me.

"God, you’re so tight", he said. "You feel so good!"

"Be careful, I’m a virgin." And I believed I really was, that the brutal and forced sex of Prom night and at the bus station had been nothing. This, at last, was the real thing. "Just keep going slowly until I can get used to you," I begged. As my body grew accustomed to his presence inside me, I signaled him wordlessly with my eyes, and he pressed forward another inch. I moaned again, this time with obvious pleasure. Three more perfectly timed strokes and he was inside me to the hilt. My ass and tummy felt warm and pleasantly full. I beckoned him with my lips, and he leaned forward to kiss me passionately again. As his full weight crashed down on me, it spread my legs akimbo, and wrenched the massive penis inside me to a delightful new angle. But still my rectum gripped him tightly.

Now he rose, and bracing himself with one hand cupped on my breast, and the other rubbing my little dickie like it was a clit, he began gently rocking his pelvis. With my legs up and my ankles balanced on his shoulders, I lay back and enjoyed him, immobilized by his weight to helpless vulnerability. Inside, my juices began to flow, and as they lubricated his dick inside me, his strokes became longer and more wanton. Soon, he was plunging his full length, in and out, with accelerating velocity and increasing force.

The rapid motion and slight friction of his large organ in my tight, wet hole sent waves of warm pleasure through me, occasionally mixed with moments of pain as his marauding penis reached new territory. The slap of his thighs against my bottom blended with the sound of his grunts and heavy breathing and my own sighs and moans to form an erotic symphony. Now, tears of joy and pleasure filled my eyes, and I felt that we were both nearing orgasm. But it was too soon. Again, I whispered, "Slow down", and his pace gradually diminished, allowing us to pull back from the brink.

I whispered, "I want you behind me," and he lifted one of my feet over his head and spun me onto his tummy. As my ass spun around his cock I was filled with pleasure from the corkscrew motion of his cock in my ass and with the expectation of being possessed by him from behind. When he mounted me from behind, his cock felt even bigger, and his weight took my breath away. He slipped one arm beneath my breasts, and spread his long fingers to tweak both of my nipples. In his other hand he cupped my tiny but excited cockette. In this position, his cock found new spaces to invade, and I groaned each time his cock conquered new territory. As each new place became slathered in ass juice, his pace again accelerated.

From this angle, my soft round ass muscles could better respond to him, and I undulated in concert with his thrusts. That made him even more wild and forceful in his fucking.

Now, the sounds of slapping flesh and our heaving breaths grew more intense, and the sensations his heat and strength pounding inside me grew overpowering. Uncontrollable forces conquered both of our bodies, and I heard my own voice rise involuntarily from within me in a wordless language that only he could answer, with deep throated grunts of his own. With a spasm that gripped me from head to toe, I climaxed in his hand, and a moment later, he came in a dozen massive spurts inside me. Every muscle from my anus to my throat spasmed gratefully in response, as if my ass had had an orgasm of its own.

He kept moving, more slowly now, his still hard dick sailing on the ocean it had made inside me. With that vision in my mind, I drifted into a deep sleep.

I awoke God-only-knows how much later to a tickling feeling between my thighs, a pleasant weight on my back and a slight sensation of fullness in my ass. His warm cum was oozing out of my cock-filled ass, and he was snoring on top of me. I enjoyed these pleasant sensations for a few minutes, but he was very heavy, and I was actually having a little trouble getting enough breath. I finally grazed my shoulder against his cheek, and he awoke with a yawn, followed by a smile.

"Wow, you are great" he said, gently pulling his softened cock out of me. I felt an inner ocean of sperm and ass juice start to pour out of my uncorked ass, and quickly squeezed my cheeks to keep it in.

"Excuse me", I said, and scampered to the toilet. I wondered if you were supposed to leave the door open or closed in these situations; my old mentor Marta had never covered that. I compromised and left it ajar as I cleaned up my well exercised bottom and peed sitting down.

When I came back, he was lying on his back. Wordlessly, I knelt between his legs and began to clean the residue of my tush from his penis. He quickly hardened and began heaving his hips as I licked and stroked his cock and balls. Soon, I was bobbing my tired head energetically under his guiding hand. After the long, hard fuck, I was pleasantly surprised at how quickly I brought him to a second climax, this one in my hungry mouth.

It was delicious: the first meal I had had since leaving LA two days earlier.

Jake slept as I did a little beautifying. I painted my nails, tweezed my eyebrows, douched, and took a Premarin. He woke up after a half-hour, and I said, "I was just about to take a shower, care to join me?" He practically jumped for joy at that suggestion and soon we were behind the curtain of the shower, and Jake was exploring every square inch of me with his soapy fingers. By the time our shower was over, I felt like I had never been cleaner in my life.

He went out for pizza and beer as I cleansed, moisturized, and put on fresh makeup and nail polish. I blow-dried and brushed my shoulder-length blond tresses, and pulled them into tight, school-girlish pigtails. By the time he got back I really looked quite lovely in my negligee and dainty slippers. I ate a piece of pizza and even had a sip of beer (yuck!).

The food and drink revived Jake as well; after the pizza was gone he fucked me long into the night, and we slept until late the next morning. By morning, he had recovered enough to make love to me again. We took another sexy shower and then emerged from our love nest to explore Denver by day. Jake took me on a lengthy shopping spree, and I happily augmented my stash of cosmetics, jewelry and girl’s clothing and accessories. I felt a little guilty about the money he was spending on me, but what the hell, I was worth it.

And besides, each time my shopping bags were full, we would return to our room for another session of lovemaking.

 
And so it went for two days, until our groins were sore and raw, and his leave was over.

He even went AWOL for eight hours so he could see me off on the early morning bus to Minneapolis. He had given me his name, unit and address, and told me to write when I had a home, so he could come see me. I promised I would. There were tears streaming down my cheeks as I kissed my first love goodbye from the steps of my Minneapolis-bound Greyhound.