Synopsis:

Michele, a closet Transvestite in her forties, likes to dress up whilst home alone; little does she know she is going to get paid an unxepected call by an uninvited visitor; The Predator; an evil break and enter man who has been terrorising women in the city.

Story:

MICHELE AND PREDATOR

By

Michele Nylons

The predator peered through the bedroom window and smiled; he couldn't
believe his luck. This woman was just to his taste; he felt himself begin
to stiffen as his eyes devoured her; he couldn't wait until he had his
hands on her. In his mind he played out the scenario that he envisaged
would soon take place. His thickening member began to engorge and throb.

The predator had been terrorising the city for months; always preying on
attractive, middle-aged women who lived alone. He would break into their
houses and spend the night ravishing his prey until he was sated; then
leave the women bound to the bed, covered with his issue; this was their
final indignity; to be found helpless, despoiled and degraded. Although,
by the time he was finished with them, his victims were usually beyond
caring how he left them; they just thanked god that he had left.

The predator had defiled five women so far, all sophisticated, attractive
and well dressed ladies in their forties or early fifties. He made a point
of that; that they be dressed attractively. He had been known to make his
victims get out of bed and apply makeup and dress in their finest lingerie
and eveningwear before he spent his time playing his sordid games with
them. Some victims reported that he made them parade before him wearing
differing ensembles until he was satisfied with how they looked before he
ravished them.

The predator had arrived at his current destination by sheer luck. He
usually followed his intended victim for a few days, and then planned his
attack when he was sure that the victim was alone in her home. Tonight he
was returning from a bar and decided to cruise a well-to-do neighbourhood
just to see if there was anything special that might be worth following up.
He was slightly drunk and stopped his car next to an alleyway separating
two townhouses so that he could relieve himself. He ducked into the
darkened alley to urinate when he noticed the shadow on blind. The
silhouette on the blind was unmistakeable to a predator of his kind; a
woman either dressing or undressing; her movements and mannerisms playing
out like a shadow-puppet on a movie screen. He couldn't help himself; he
had to see what might be on offer here. When he had splashed the last of
the hot stream of his urine against the wall he climbed up onto a garbage
bin hoping he would be able to see more through the window.

The predator was in luck and managed to secure a position where he could
see through a chink in the blind where it had not been fully extended. The
view provided by the chink took in half of a woman's bedroom. He could see
most of the bed, scattered with lingerie and women's clothing lying in a
heap, the coat-hangers still attached to the skirts, blouses and jackets.
There had to be at least six outfits lying on the bed surrounded by the
small piles of assorted lingerie. He could see a dressing table littered
with makeup, perfume bottles, jewellery boxes and the sundry items that
women seemed to be unable to do without in their endeavours to look
attractive. A wine glass, half full of red wine was set to one side. A
small shelf above the dressing table held three wig stands. A blonde bob
sat on one wig stand and a black long haired wig sat on the second; the
third wig stand was bare.

The predator was pleased to see that this woman had such good taste in
clothing and obviously looked after herself. The mountains of lingerie,
makeup, jewellery and the wigs bespoke of a woman who was most attentive to
her appearance - the sort of woman he fantasised about.

The predator allowed his eyes to consume the sight before him. The woman
presented herself sideways to him, sitting in front of the mirror at the
dressing table making final adjustments to her appearance. She looked to
be in her early forties, solid but not fat, and dressed just to his taste.
His eyes started with her face and worked their way down her body.
Straight brunette hair hung just to her shoulders, the fringe framing her
heavily made-up eyes; her cheeks were rouged, her lips full and painted
plum red. A glint of light betrayed the simple sparkling earrings that
undoubtedly matched the diamante necklace around her neck. She was wearing
a black nylon full-slip, the rise of her small breasts emphasised by the
tight bodice, the laced hem of the slip resting on her sleek nyloned thighs
just above her knees.

The predator liked the way her taupe stockings glistened in the lights from
the makeup mirror. Her hands slid down one leg, her fingernails painted a
matching plum red to her lipstick, and adjusted her stocking; pulling the
sleek nylon taught on her shapely leg and momentarily disappearing under
the hem of her slip as she adjusted the clip on a garter strap. The
predator shuddered. His eyes continued down her leg and lingered on the
black, patent leather, open toe high-heels and he caught a glimpse of her
painted toenails on display, encased in the gossamer of her sheer stocking,
as she waggled her foot back and forth back as the admiring her own pretty
foot. She stood, and then advanced towards the bed presenting herself
front-on to the predator.

The predator took in the whole visage of the woman that he had now
determined was to be his next victim. Mature, attractive, heavily made-up,
tall and well built; she was just to his taste. If he had not spent the
evening in the bar and was in a sober frame of mind he might have been more
cautious, but the sight she unknowingly presented to the predator sealed
the woman's fate. The predator slid silently off the garbage bin on which
he had been standing and made his way back to his car. He scanned the
street and saw no one. Most of the lights in the adjoining townhouses were
out and the street was quiet. He checked his watch: 11:30pm, perfect he
thought, and reached into the back seat and took out his burglary tools.
Fuck the risk! He had to have her. Now!

Michele sat before the makeup mirror twirling the wine glass in her fingers
watching the light sparkle in the red Shiraz. The dark red wine matched
the colour of her fingernails and she briefly giggled to herself at the
complement. She was slightly drunk from the half-bottle of wine she had
already consumed and she set the wine glass down carefully and began to add
the final touches to her makeup.

Michele was actually Michael, a divorcee in his mid forties who lived alone
and had come to transvestism late in life after suppressing an urge to
crossdress for most of his adult years. Like most crossdressers he had
urges to dress-up and become a woman for short periods of time and often
dressed in his wife's underwear when she was away. After an amicable
divorce some five years earlier, Michael now transformed into Michele
whenever it pleased him to do so. Living alone and having the privacy to
dress when it suited him, he had developed the persona of Michele over a
period of years.

Michele's male alter ego had fought a battle with his weight for most of
his life and he had allowed himself to balloon out during the later part of
his marriage. When the opportunity to fully crossdress whenever he felt
like it presented itself, Michael decided he didn't want to look like a
middle-aged frump. He dieted and exercised until he could eventually fit
into a size 16 and some times even a 14; a great effort given his large
frame, and he now carried very little fat.

Michele had acquired an extensive wardrobe, first at opportunity shops and
later at larger specialty shops; insisting to the shopkeepers that he was
buying the clothes as presents for his wife. Lingerie was easy to buy as
it is never considered unusual for men to buy nice underwear for their
wives or lovers.

Michele bought his first pair of women's shoes from an opportunity shop and
once he knew his woman's shoe size he purchased many styles of high-heeled
pumps and sandals; again insisting to inquisitive shop assistants that they
were presents for his wife. He sometimes had the boxes gift-wrapped to
maintain the façade.

Michele had dabbled with his wife's makeup with various degrees of success
and failure during the years of his marriage and easily obtained all the
makeup he needed by purchasing a couple of complete makeup kits ("its for
my niece's birthday; she's just turned thirteen") and then simply added to
his makeup collection by throwing any item he desired in with the week's
groceries; no one ever questioned him at the checkout; husbands just picked
up whatever their wives had written on the shopping list after all.

Michele could purchase women's jewellery easily of course, but his biggest
problem was how to get his hands on some nice wigs. The problem was solved
when he was sent to a large city interstate on a business trip where he
visited the part of town frequented by the gay community. Here a
sympathetic old lady in a wig shop who was used to dealing with 'his kind'
helped him pick out and try on three different styles and hair colourings.
He purchased the wigs and then went into another 'specialty shop' where he
bought breastforms in two sizes.

Michele loved being Michele; Michael transformed into her at every
opportunity and spent most evenings and weekends dressed and fully made-up.
More and more often though he had been fantasising about taking his
transvestism a step further; whenever he was dressed as Michele he became
aroused, he always had, but for the last year or so he had fantasised about
being with a man. He did not consider himself gay; in fact when he wasn't
Michele his sexual fantasies revolved around women; but when he was Michele
he wanted to be with a man or to have a 'lesbian' encounter with another
transvestite.

Michele was terrified that her secret life would be exposed. When dressed
she kept the doors locked, the shades closed and never answered the door.
Although she had become adept at applying makeup and dressing en-femme, and
she believed that she made quite an attractive mature woman, she would
never dream of going out dressed as Michele. She contented himself with
reading books and looking at magazines and movies where transvestites had
hot sexual encounters with each other and with male admirers. Although
masturbation bought relief, Michele longed for 'the real thing.' She was
thinking a lot lately of either placing a discreet ad in some of the sex
shops she visited or advertising her availability in a contact magazine or
in some of the internet chat rooms she frequented.

Michele was not aware that she was about to have her first encounter
tonight, nor that the Predator would be her first man. The Predator was
not aware that the woman he lusted after, as he spied on her through her
bedroom window, was in fact Michele; a transvestite.

Michele had opened a nice half-bottle of Shiraz earlier in the evening and
then poured herself a warm bath. She painted her toe and fingernails and
allowed them to dry and then poured herself a glass of wine and stepped
into the steaming, scented water. She spent a luxurious hour soaking,
during which she had shaven her legs and chest and closely shaven her face.
She had also drunk three glasses of wine.

Michele towelled herself off and carried a full glass of wine from the
ensuite bathroom into her bedroom where she sat at her dressing table and
looked at herself critically in the mirror. She was showing her age but
was still respectable and with the magic of makeup would soon be
transformed into a presentable, if slightly sluttish, middle-aged woman.
She giggled to herself and realised she was slightly drunk.

Michele went through the labour of applying her foundation; she had a
product from Max Factor which closely matched her skin colour but covered
up the few scars and blemishes that she had acquired during in her life.
Next she liberally coated her face and neck with face powder one shade
darker than her foundation; she now had the blank canvass she liked to
achieve prior to applying the rest of her makeup. She loved this next
part; the application of colours and shading which changed the whole look
of her face from bland maleness to feminine fox. She giggled again and
took a gulp of wine before continuing.

Michele applied her eyeliner next. All the books and magazines in which
she had read makeup tips said you should do this later but Michele had
learned that this was the hardest part of applying makeup and if she
screwed it up (which she often did, especially after drinking), she could
wipe the eyeliner away, apply more foundation and start again without
ruining her eye-shadow and mascara. The eyeliner was applied liberally to
her upper and lower eyelids, from the inner corner of her eyes to the outer
corners, gradually thickening the line as she went. Having achieved the
desired result she looked for a suitable palette of colours for her eye-
shadow.

Michele selected a pale blue which she applied to her eyelids and then
blended it into a shade of dark pink which she brushed onto the upper part
of her eye sockets and right up to her eyebrows. She wished she could
shape her brows but that would be too noticeable to her workmates, family
and friends so she just kept her brows neatly plucked. Next she rouged her
cheeks to define the lines of her cheekbones. She used more rouge and eye-
shadow than is the fashion nowadays but she preferred the more colourful
makeup styles of the eighties over the current subdued 'less is more' look.

Michele next applied a light coating of 'skin-glow' face powder all over
her face and neck to set the makeup she had already applied and to give her
face a subtle radiance. She carefully brushed lashings of mascara onto her
lower and upper eyelashes. She knew from painful experience that if she
put too much mascara on her lashes that it would congeal and look
unsightly; even worse it could end up ruining her eye-shadow or face makeup
if globs of the mascara came loose from her lashes. She did like to wear
lots of mascara though and found a Maybelline product that did not clot and
was easy to apply.

Michele took her time putting on her lipstick. Having completed the rest
of her face she didn't want to ruin the effect with a sloppy job. She took
time to line her thin lips just outside her lip-line so that her lips would
seem fuller; she also knew that the wine she had drunk was having its
effect and realised that caution here would save her tears of frustration
if she slipped and made a mess of her lipstick. The colour was a deep plum
red and matched the nail polish that she had painstakingly painted on her
toe and fingernails prior to her bath.

Michele reached up and studied the three wigs sitting on their stands.
'The brunette,' she thought to herself and lifted the wig from its stand.
She brushed the wig with the special brush that she been advised to
purchase by the nice old lady who had sold her her wigs. She started her
brush-stokes at the extremities of the hair and worked her way up to the
crown, admiring the sheen of the artificial hair. She positioned the wig
on her head and adjusted it so that her fringe was straight and hung level
with her eyebrows.

Michele looked in the mirror and admired her transformation. 'I look quite
attractive' she thought; 'I bet Michael would like to fuck me' (she giggled
to herself at the absurdity) and reached for her wine glass.

Michele went to the closet located on the right-hand side of the bedroom;
Michele's closet. The closet on the left was Michael's closet and contained
his suits, shirts, ties and boring male underwear, socks and shoes.
Michele's closet contained the soft, luxurious, feminine attire that so
excited her. She rummaged through the lingerie draws and threw a pile on
the bed; next she took down half a dozen ensembles and threw them in the
centre of the bed amid the strewn underwear. It looked like a messy,
awkward way to select an outfit but it worked for her. She would often get
nearly fully dressed and then change her mind and she had found over the
years the best method for her was to take a selection of clothing and throw
it on the bed and then once she had finished dressing, put away whatever
clothing she had decided not to wear.

The predator at this time was just leaving the bar having been unsuccessful
in locating a suitable woman as his prospective next victim. He had drunk
more than usual, and frustrated at not finding his next target, stumbled to
his car and took off towards the better part of town to prowl for a fitting
quarry to stalk.

Michele tore open a packet of cheap flesh-toned sheer to the waist
pantyhose. She wore pantyhose as a foundation garment to help flatten her
tummy, hold her male genitalia out of the way between her legs, and to help
cover the small nicks and varicose veins on her forty-year-old thighs and
ankles. She felt a small tingle of excitement as she smoothed the
pantyhose up her legs and over her tummy and buttocks. She carefully
manipulated the sheer toes around her painted nails ensuring she didn't
ladder the cheap hose.

Michele selected a pair of red nylon full-cut panties from the midden of
lingerie on her bed. She stepped into them and slid them up her nyloned
thighs, savouring the rustling sound of nylon on nylon. She adjusted the
waistband on her hips so that the cute little lace bow was centrally
located below her belly button. Michele could not understand the modern
woman's obsession with thong panties; they were uncomfortable and
unflattering on women of her solid build. Besides she liked the way the
tight nylon panties caressed her buttocks.

Michele next chose a black satin garter belt; her mother had called them
'suspenders' she remembered. She clipped the garment together and stepped
into it carefully pulling it up her hosed legs and over her panties so that
it sat snugly around the bottom of her waist. She carefully adjusted the
garter straps ensuring they did not snag her pantyhose.

Michele decided on a matching black satin bra, again clipping the
fastenings at the back of the bra together before donning the garment. She
giggled yet again when she thought about all the troubles she had had as a
young adolescent Michael attempting to undo his girlfriend's bra so that he
could caress her budding teenage breasts. She took another sip of wine and
pulled the garment over her head, adjusting it on her chest in the mirror
and straightening the straps on her shoulders. She had breastforms if she
wanted to use them but this bra was slightly padded and with her 'man
boobs' gave her a pleasing if subtle cleavage without being overly busty
(although sometimes, when she was in the mood, she liked to stuff her bra
with the largest set of breastforms she had and parade around like Mae
West).

Michele dithered over which stockings to wear; it would depend greatly on
which ensemble she finally decided upon. Should she wear black, grey,
taupe, flesh-toned; fully fashioned, Cuban heeled or sheer toe? She had so
many pairs! She settled on a pair of high sheen taupe lace tops. She loved
the way they emphasised her shapely legs, and with the flesh toned
pantyhose underneath the stockings, her legs would look magnificent.
Michele thought her legs were the best part of her body. She slid the
stockings on and connected the clips on the garter straps to the lacy
stocking tops. She reached for her jewellery box and selected faux diamond
earrings and a matching pendant necklace. As she clipped the earrings to
her ears she lamented the dearth of good quality clip-on earrings. She
dare not pierce both her earlobes as it would be too noticeable to others.

Michele went back to her closet and selected a pair of black, patent
leather, open toe high-heels and placed them beside the chair next to her
dresser. She chose a black nylon full-slip from the mess of lingerie on
the bed and pulled it over her head being careful not to ruin her makeup or
hair. She smoothed the garment to her body, the tight bodice clinging to
her breasts and hips and the skirt flaring around her thighs, occasionally
sticking to her stockinged legs because of the static electricity. She
loved the feel of the lacy hem; like butterfly wings brushing on her
thighs.

Michele sat down in front of the dressing table and slipped her feet into
her high-heels; although a size eleven her feet were not grotesque because
they matched the proportions of her body. After all she was a small size
eight in men's shoes and her feet were considered quite small for a man.
She turned her chair sideways to the dresser so that she could adjust her
stockings; she pulled the sleek nylon taught on her shapely leg and her
hand disappeared under the hem of her slip as she adjusted the clip on a
garter strap. She waggled her right foot from side to side, admiring her
own pretty feet in the high-heels and appreciating the gleam of the lights
on her high sheen stockings. Little did she know that she was not the only
one admiring her legs and feet!

Michele stood and advanced towards the bed to select an ensemble for the
evening. She finally decided on a white 'Carla Zampatti' A-line skirt and
a mauve satin long-sleeved blouse she had purchased from Supré. She
always wore long sleeved blouses or jackets because although she kept her
fingers and the backs of her hands free of hair, she could only lightly
shave her arms with a beard trimmer. Her tanned arms had only a light
sprinkling of fair hair but she felt that fully shaving them would be too
noticeable when she wore T-shirts and Polo's when she was Michael.

Michele donned the blouse, fumbling with the buttons; she was still not
used to them being on the opposite side to men's shirts. Then she stepped
into the skirt and pulled it up around her waist, tucking the blouse into
the skirt and closing the zipper at her waist. She went back to her
dresser and mooched through the jewellery box and decided upon two matching
silver bracelets for her left wrist and a silver amulet set with a large
black opal for the right. She slipped a matching opal ring set in silver
on the ring finger of her right hand and a diamante ring set in white gold
on her left ring finger.

Michele pushed her hands out before her and admired the effect of the
jewellery against her slim wrists and her plum-red painted fingernails; she
had taste she thought, but she still projected that slightly sluttish style
she favoured. She looked at herself in the mirror and was pleased with the
result. She twirled around and admired her ample but well-proportioned
bottom; the A-line skirt was a snug fit. She drained her wine glass and
tottered on her high-heels as she started from the bedroom to the kitchen
to open another bottle of wine. She was drinking a lot lately; but what
did she care? As long as she kept her weight in check; it's not as if she
had a boyfriend to keep sober for. She sauntered down the hallway towards
the kitchen, her heels clicking on the slate tiles as she did her best vamp
imitation, swinging her buxom sexy bottom from side to side and giggled to
herself again.

The predator had let himself in easily through the kitchen window whilst
Michele was making the final adjustments to her clothing in the bedroom.
The kitchen window looked out over a small garden, dark at night, and well
hidden from the main road; the lock was cheap and easily defeated. The
predator was silent as he climbed through the window and dropped
soundlessly to the tiled floor; he'd had plenty of practice after all. He
heard the clatter of high heels on the tiles and a little giggle from the
hallway. 'Oh this bitch would not be giggling for long!' he thought, as he
hid behind the opened door that led into the kitchen from the hallway.

The predator quietly lowered the bag containing his burglary kit to the
floor and reached inside it to take out a gag and a pair of handcuffs. He
didn't like using the gag on his victims because it ruined their lipstick
and distended their faces. He liked to look into their pretty faces while
he did things to them, and once they learned resistance was futile (and
they all learned that lesson pretty quickly) he liked to kiss them. The
woman who had excited him enough to risk what he was about to do had
affected him strongly; he wanted to take her as soon as possible, his
member was so hard that it was uncomfortable in his pants. He would take
her quickly in the kitchen and then they could retire to her bedroom for
the rest of the evening's entertainment. he thought to himself.

The predator heard her high-heels getting louder now as she approached the
kitchen door and his drunken mind reflected on his last glimpse of her
before he had jumped down off the perch outside her bedroom window. Her
heavy makeup, the black nylon slip in contrast to her sheer taupe stockings
(he preferred women who wore stockings instead of pantyhose), and those
shiny black open-toe high heels. He would take her fully clothed, right
here in the kitchen; he would take her in such a way that she would know he
was in charge and that resistance was futile. He would take her in a way
that a woman of her breeding had probably never experienced before.

Michele walked into the darkened kitchen and headed straight for the wine
rack above the breakfast bar. She didn't bother turning on the light as
the light spilling in from the hallway was ample for the task; besides she
hadn't closed the curtains in here and even though her kitchen window was
not in open sight of the road she was still paranoid about anyone seeing
her dressed en-femme. She was thinking of whether to open a bottle of
Shiraz or merlot when she felt herself being pushed heavily from behind and
she collided heavily with the kitchen table.

The predator pounced on her when she was halfway across the room. He used
his weight and strength to propel her towards the kitchen table. She was a
big woman and he was taking no chances; as she crashed into the table he
pushed her shoulders down and pulled her hands up behind her back and
clamped the handcuffs on her wrists. He lifted his knee and slammed it
into her well proportioned behind to hold her against the table and pulled
up on her cuffed wrists. As expected, she pushed her upper body upwards
and back in an effort to escape, but this only assisted him. As she rose
up and gasped, a prelude to either to a scream or cry for help, he pulled
the ball bag over head and into her mouth, securing the straps tightly
around her neck. He now had her where he wanted her.

The predator pushed down on her shoulders so that she was bent over the
kitchen table. In the dim light he could now see her mauve satin blouse
and the white A-line skirt; subconsciously he approved of her style, he
loved it when they dressed nicely for him. He wasted no time. The
predator kicked her heels apart so that her legs were spread as far as the
tight skirt would allow and released one of his hands from her cuffed
wrists and undid his flies and released his erect organ.

The predator was extremely aroused and he could smell the stale alcohol on
his own breath as he panted in excitement. He reached under the woman's
skirt with his free hand and grasped the waistband of her panties and
yanked them down. He was puzzled when her panties came to an abrupt halt
at the top of her thighs and then he realised that she was wearing her
garter belt over her panties and because of this her panties could be
lowered no further without releasing the clips on the garter straps
attached to her stocking tops. It didn't matter, her panties were down far
enough for him to carry out his intentions.

The predator stepped in close between her splayed high-heeled feet; his
crotch close to her buttocks, one hand gripping her handcuffed wrists and
pushing her body down hard on the kitchen table, the other hand under her
skirt pulling her panties down so that they bunched around her thighs. He
bought his free hand out from under her skirt and spat in the palm of it;
then he spread the glistening spit over his tumescent penis, ensuring his
glans was completely lubricated.

The predator lifted the woman's skirt up and thrust forward. His cock came
up against a membrane of sheer nylon, and for a moment he couldn't figure
out what had happened. Was the silly bitch wearing two pairs of panties?
Then he figured out what was preventing him from reaching the object of his
desire; it was the gusset of the woman's pantyhose. The dumb cunt was
wearing pantyhose under her stockings! Why the fuck would she do that?

The predator took no time to try to answer these questions, he was now so
stimulated that he was close to climax. He pushed forward with his hips
and felt his member force the nylon membrane of the pantyhose into the
crease between the woman's buttocks. He pushed harder still and felt his
glans nestle into the woman's anal bud, her silken hose wrapped around the
sensitive head of his penis stimulating it into bringing forth a trickle of
pre-seminal fluid; the clear liquid combining with his spittle to further
lubricate his member. He grunted and pushed forward with all his
bodyweight and actually felt the heavy table move an inch or two as he
thrusted.

The predator felt his iron hard cock tear through the gossamer thin
pantyhose gusset and then slam against the woman's tight sphincter. His
cock paused briefly at her resisting puckered entrance, then his weight and
the lubricant did their job and his shaft slid slowly and steadily inside
the woman's tight back passage. The Predator's crotch slammed hard against
the woman's soft round buttocks and his scrotum rested in the silken purse
of her bunched panties stimulating him to extremis. He ground his crotch
in a circular motion against the woman's lovely soft arse and pulled her
back hard against him and unloaded stream after stream of hot semen into
her tight channel.

The predator howled and shuddered as his orgasm shook through his body; he
ground his hips harder against her and stimulated his scrotal sac by
rubbing it against the silken gusset of her pantyhose. His climax over, he
pushed the woman forward and pulled back from her. He watched in awe as a
trickle of semen seeped out of her and ran down her thighs, staining her
stocking tops and pooling in the crotch of her panties. He had only just
started with this bitch; he was going to have some fun tonight!

Michele lost all thoughts of red wine as she was propelled forward and
slammed hard against the heavy wooden kitchen table. She was confused as
to what was happening; her thought processes slow and fuzzy because of the
wine she had drunk. She realised a stranger was in her house and that she
was being pushed down across her own kitchen table but couldn't figure out
why. For one second she stupidly panicked at the thought that someone had
found her dressed as a woman; and then a split second later she realised
that she had a lot more to worry about than the exposure of her
transvestism. She realised she was in serious trouble when she felt the
handcuffs clamp on her wrists.

Michele's fighting instinct took over and she used all her strength to lift
her body up off the table so that she could yell a protest to the man who
was assaulting her. She understood now that the perpetrator believed he
was dealing with a woman; if she could just let him know that he had
handcuffed a man, not a woman, maybe the intruder would let her go, or at
least think twice about what he was about to do. Maybe she could negotiate
with the trespasser; offer him money, her car, anything to get him out of
her house without any further indignity.

Michele never got a chance to say a word; as soon as she opened her mouth
the rubber ball gag was pushed into it. She started to hyperventilate,
being forced to breathe in and out through her nose; then her chest was
slammed downwards on top of the kitchen table and she couldn't move. She
stumbled as her heels were kicked apart and her legs spread to the full
extremity allowed by her tight skirt. The home invader held her tightly
against the table so that she wouldn't fall, and then terror struck her she
felt his hand reach under her skirt.

Michele was horrified at the prospect of what was about to happen to her.
A glimmer of hope surfaced; he would realise she was not a woman and let
her go, surely! Then she felt him yank her panties down and was actually
relieved when her panties entangled in her garter straps and would go no
further. As soon as the pervert reached under her to touch what he thought
would be female genitalia he would be in for a terrible shock. He would be
shocked by what he found there and would stop what he was doing. He would
be disgusted to find out that she was a transvestite and may even beat her,
but at least he would stop this perverted attack.

Michele's glimmer of hope faded when she heard his flies unzip and the
sound of him spitting into his hand. She was about to attempt one last
struggle when her attacker's full weight pressed against her backside
pinning her to the table. She screamed to herself in her head as she felt
her skirt being raised and the gusset of her pantyhose stretch as her
attacker's penis nestled in the bud of the entrance to her back passage.
The fool didn't realise she wasn't a woman! He thought she was the lady of
the house and he intended to defile her in this despicable manner to
gratify his primal urges! Then she felt her attacker's hard hot member tear
through her pantyhose and begin to invade her.

Michele screamed into the gag at the intense pain as the hot cock forced
its way inside her. No sound would issue forth around the gag but that
silent scream would live in her memory for a long time. The man's member
slid slowly but inevitably deeper and deeper inside her; surprisingly after
the initial shock and intense pain she felt as he had entered her, the feel
of the invader's lubricated penis became less painful; it just felt
uncomfortable and filling.

Michele felt the intruder's crotch press hard against her soft buttocks and
realised with some relief that he was now fully inside her. She felt him
pull her soft bum back hard against him and the gyrations of his hips as he
worked his turgid member around inside her tight passage. Then she felt
the hot gush of his semen as he spent himself deep inside her; she heard
his groan and could smell the stale alcohol on his breath as he bayed and
howled with his climax.

Michele was absolutely astonished at what happened next. As her defiler's
glans pulsated and throbbed against her sensitive prostrate, washing it
with his hot seed, she felt a stab of exquisite sexual pleasure pulse
through her lower regions and she simultaneously stiffened and ejaculated
into the crotch of her pantyhose. She couldn't suppress the pleasure she
felt even though she felt utterly debased. She collapsed against the
kitchen table as her orgasm subsided and she felt her attacker pull himself
slowly out of her and was surprised that it did not hurt but in fact was
mildly pleasurable.

Michele could feel that the tight bud of her back passage was left slightly
open after the ravaging it had taken and she felt her attacker's warm sperm
run out of her and down her thighs where it pooled in her panties and
stained her stocking tops. The front gusset of her pantyhose was soaked
with her own spend whilst her attacker's semen ran down her thighs into her
bunched up panties. Her head was spinning with the realisation of what had
just happened to her; then she began to wonder what would happen next.

To be continued............

Notes:

Hi; I am Michele Nylons a fortysomething 'part time' transvestite from Australia. I write semi-autobiographical stories and have been published at Crystals, Fictionmania, Literortica etc. I would love to be an author on this site.
xxx
Michele

Synopsis:

The Predator has Michele, a closet transvestite, trapped in her house and is taking his time as he takes his pleasure from her. He does not know she is a transvestite and thinks she is a sexy mature socialite; he's in for a surprise!

Story:

The Predator was satisfied with his first taste of the woman who he had
bent over the kitchen table and held captive; but he was far from
finished with her. The snooty bitch had been taught her first lesson
for the evening; his warm issue dribbling down her stockinged legs was
evidence of that. "I bet she's never been taken in the rear before," he
thought to himself. He was still befuddled why she was wearing
pantyhose under stockings though? Maybe she had really bad varicose
veins or maybe her legs were just pale and untanned? These society
bitches were all so vain about their appearances, that's what attracted
him to them.

The Predator pulled the woman up by her handcuffed wrists and heard her
grunt into the ball-gag as she tottered on her high-heels. He pushed
her down the corridor to where he knew her bedroom was located at the
rear or the house. He couldn't help but become excited again as he
looked at her round bottom and shapely nylon encased legs as she
staggered ahead of him down the hall; he started to think what he was
going to do next and started to stiffen in his jeans. When he got to
the bedroom door he pushed her hard so that the bitch was propelled
forward and fell face down on to the bed.

The Predator looked excitedly at the woman sprawled before him on her
bed; her white A-line skirt had ridden up revealing the crotch of her
full-cut red nylon panties and the lacy tops of her taupe high-sheen
stockings, the tops of her thighs were framed magnificently by the
black lace of the nylon full-slip. He opened his fly and coaxed his
member to a full erection. God he loved this!

Michele lay sprawled on her bed; feeling completely exposed and
helpless. She could feel his sticky come still dribbling from her back
passage and she felt so degraded lying there with her skirt riding up
revealing her red nylon panties and the lacy stocking tops; she wished
she had never experimented with crossdressing; it was her fault, she
should be ashamed of herself. She was even more ashamed that she had
orgasmed when the predator had sodomised her; "my God, when would this
end," she thought. Then she heard the unmistakable sound of a zipper
opening and looked up to see the man open his fly and stroke his member
until it was rock hard. Michele groaned into her gag and wondered what
was going to happen next; how could this animal become aroused again so
fast!

The Predator jumped onto the bed beside the woman; his hard member
wobbling out in front him. He undid his belt and shucked down his jeans
and underwear and kicked off his shoes when his clothing bunched at his
ankles then he pulled off his socks so that he was naked from the waist
down. The woman lay still on the bed breathing heavily through her nose
because of the ball gag in her mouth. He worked his way into the middle
of the bed so that his crotch was level with the woman's face. He
reached out and turned her head so that she was facing his erect penis,
it bobbed up and down in front of her pretty face. This was the part he
really loved, but it was also the most dangerous! He warned the woman
that he was about to take the ball gag out of her mouth and if she
cried out or attempted to bite he would beat her until she begged him
to stop. To prove his point he slapped her once across the face. He
looked into her pretty heavily made-up eyes and saw the beginnings of a
single tear; then the tear ran down her face leaving a small streak of
mascara. The Predator figured she had got the message and reached
behind her head and released the gag.

Michele screamed inside as the man jumped onto the bed; his erection
wobbling out in front him and removed his clothing from the waist down.
It would have been a comical sight in any other circumstances; the man
struggling out of his jeans as his cock bounced up and down in front of
him; but Michele was starting to realise what was going to happen next
as the man moved forward and his erection approached her face. She
could smell her musk on his manhood from when he had fucked her arse
and she saw a bead of clear pre-seminal fluid form at the eye of his
glans. Michele could not really understand the warning he issued but
when he slapped her face she understood his intent. Her face stung and
her head was reeling as the man reached behind her head and ripped off
the ball gag; she gasped as the gag was released and managed to say one
word: "Please!" before the beast pushed his cock into her mouth and
grabbed the sides of her face and held her there while he fucked her
face.

The Predator had done this to all of his victims and always loved the
shocked expression on their faces as his cock invaded their mouths. The
woman was so stunned that she didn't even think of biting; instead her
lips clamped over his shaft and her tongue began slaver around the head
of his penis as she tried to eject his member without biting it. The
Predator started to fuck her face; his powerful hands held her face
steady as he pushed his cock back and forth between her lipsticked
lips. She could do nothing, trussed as she was, except capitulate.

The Predator looked down and was aroused and excited by the sight in
front of him. The woman was heavily made-up (which he loved); her
pretty face was framed by her brunette hair which hung to her shoulders
and fringed her brows, her eyes were outlined in back eyeliner and her
lashes heavily mascared. Pale blue eye shadow blending to a shade of
dark pink coloured her sparkling eyes, her cheeks were heavily rouged,
defining the lines of her cheekbones, her lips were coated in with a
deep plum red lipstick; and sticking out of her matronly but attractive
face was his pink, hard cock. He looked down her body at her arse and
legs and then slid his eyes back up again to the woman's face and began
to fuck her mouth harder.

Michele was still stunned from the slap as the rubbery flesh invaded
her mouth and her first reaction was to eject the foul tasting monster.
She was conscious of the fact that if she bit the invading penis she
would suffer badly, so she clamped her lips over the man's shaft and
tried to eject it. Michele pushed her tongue onto head of his penis and
tasted a male cock for the first time. It was not what she expected; it
was not salty as she had read it described so many times, but more of a
creamy floury taste with an undercurrent of musk. She could also taste
her own lipstick and perfume, and god help her if she didn't feel a
stirring in her panties as her own member began to stiffen. Then she
felt the man start to push his cock in and out of her mouth, groaning
with pleasure. Michele realised that her attempts to expel his member
were in fact arousing the man further; her tongue slathering along his
glands and her lips tight against the taut sleek skin of his shaft were
in no way effective in ejecting the invading penis, they were having
the opposite effect. Michele decided that there was no way she was
going to be able to repel his attack and decided that she would try to
excite the man as much as possible so that he would get this barbaric
act over with as soon as possible. As the Predator started to fuck her
face; his powerful hands holding her face steady, she started to suck
on the intruding member and work her tongue over his glans as her
lipsticked lips moved up and down the shaft.

The Predator used long slow strokes so that the woman could breathe
through her nose in time with his thrusts; he didn't want her gagging.
Her soft lips and tongue were proving extremely arousing on the
delicate nerves of his manhood. He loved it when he pulled back and the
flange of his glans was between her lips and then the slippery feel of
her wet tongue slavering his cock as he thrust into her face. If he
didn't know better he would think the bitch was encouraging him.

The Predator felt his orgasm begin as his scrotum contracted and his
penis started to convulse. Waves of pleasure shot though him as he felt
his semen churn out of his scrotal sac and begin to shoot along the
channel inside his cock, searching for release through the opening in
the eye of his glans; the hot load spurned on by the blood engorged
spongy walls of his shaft contracting and convulsing. The Predator held
the woman's face hard and steady; he allowed the first few squirts of
his ejaculate to stream into her hot wet mouth and then he pulled his
cock back and out of her mouth; the head of his cock plopping out over
her lips as the first jet of hot sticky semen ejaculated out of the eye
of his convulsing cock.

Michele sucked and licked the invading penis as it raped her mouth; she
was increasingly aware of the gossamer feel of her silky lingerie and
stockings, the taste of her own lipstick and the light caress of her
hair on her face. She could not help but become further aroused; the
fact that she was cuffed and vulnerable added to her pleasure and
allowed her to find an excuse for her debased reaction to this invasion
of her sanctity; after all what could she do? All she could do, she
rationalised, was to capitulate and to try to bring this brutal action
to a swift end. Then Michele realised what was happening as the man
quickened his pace and she felt his organ begin to contract and
convulse. Her mouth filled with warm yeasty semen; it didn't seem to
spurt out of his cock as she expected it would, it seemed more to just
suddenly appear in her mouth. Michele couldn't escape the eroticism of
giving her first fellatio, even if it was against her will; she felt
herself ejaculate into her panties again, the warm flood of her own
ejaculate soaking her panties and pantyhose as she swallowed his seed.
Then the man pulled back suddenly and his cock plopped out of her mouth
and she felt streams of hot sticky semen start to splash onto her face.

The Predator moaned with pleasure as stream after stream of white, warm
fluid shot all over the woman's face; he rubbed his cock on her cheeks,
her lips and her nose; coming all over her. A long rope of semen ran
from the woman's brow, across her eye and onto her nose; as his cock
rubbed against her face the semen mixed with her makeup and began to
make a colour palate of semen, makeup and lipstick all over her eyes,
cheeks and lips. He forced his cock back into her mouth as the last
convulsions of his orgasm consumed him.

The Predator sighed as the last of his issue spent into her lipsticked
smeared mouth; he stared into her scared, pretty eyes, now panda-like
with the mixture of semen, mascara and eyeliner smudged all around
them. God he loved to do this to these stuck up matrons. He pulled his
cock out of her mouth and rubbed it all over her face again, the sperm
and makeup now mixing with her tears. He let go of her face as she
began to sob and rolled her over so that she was on her back, face up
so that she could watch his final degrading act. He moved down the bed
and grabbed a handful of her pristine white skirt and wiped the
congealed mess of come and makeup off his cock with it. Her skirt was
stained black and red by her makeup and silvery gobs of sperm were
mixed in with the mess. "That'll stain," he laughed wickedly at the
stuck up matron lying handcuffed on the bed before him.

The Predator finished wiping the mess on her skirt that was now rucked
around her waist, and then he noticed the stain in the front of her red
nylon panties. He knew that the spend from when he had fucked her had
stained her underwear, he had seen the results of his orgasm on her
buttocks and thighs; but he hadn't touched her cunt yet; he was saving
that for later; so why was there wet semen all over the front of her
panties? Then he saw the bulge there straining against the nylon
pantyhose and panty gusset and slowly but surely he realised what it
was! This fucking woman had a cock!!! What the fuck????????????

To be continued...

Notes:

Orginally published by Michele Nylons at Fictionmania

Synopsis:

Michele is being taken out for a night on the town against her will by the Predator; a serial sex offender who has big plans for our transvestite heroine.

Story:

MICHELE AND PREDATOR - PART III

By

Michele Nylons

The Predator was stunned; it dawned upon him what had happened; he had fucked and been fellated by a transvestite. A man dressed as a woman! He looked at the pathetic sight lying before him on the bed and laughed. He thought to himself that she was just as good as any ‘real’ woman he had fucked; and she sure wasn’t going to be telling anybody about this evening, that’s for sure; you could see the look of terror and disgust in her eyes. He might as well enjoy the rest of the evening. He started making plans to do just that.

Michele lay sprawled and cowered on the bed; she saw the look on the face of the Predator as he realised what he was dealing with and she watched his face change from surprise to cruel calculation. She lay there shivering as the Predator strolled around her bedroom and examined her secret things. Michele was reviled as the beast toyed with her makeup and wig collection; she heard him snigger to himself as he opened her wardrobe and rifled through the hangers inspecting her clothes. She was revolted when he opened her lingerie drawers and pulled out various items of intimate apparel; she gagged when he lifted a pair of her satin panties to his face and sniffed at them and then rubbed them sensuously on his cheek, the nylon rasping on his five o’clock shadow.

The Predator started to hatch his plan. How he loved to humiliate the upper class bitches he preyed upon; this would be even sweeter. This pansy transvestite couldn’t do a thing to protect himself; he was obviously ‘in the closet’ (he sniggered to himself at the pun and was delighted when the transvestite bitch shivered at his evil laugh). The Predator had thought of the transvestite as a ‘her’ so far and decided he could deal with the situation better if he continued to think of ‘him’ as a ‘her’. Yes he was going to have some fun with this bitch! He dragged her off the bed and into the bathroom. He spoke only enough to get his message through to the shocked whore; “Wash, makeup, dress! The clothes I want you to wear will be on the bed; wear the blond wig! You better look fucking good when you come out of this bedroom bitch or I’ll handcuff you to the front fence still dressed as a woman so that all of your stuck up snooty neighbours can see what they have been living next to!” He slammed the bathroom door shut.

Michele pulled herself up off the cold bathroom tiles and looked at herself in the mirror. Her lipstick was smeared all around her mouth; her mascara, eyeliner and eyeshadow had blended together with the Predator’s semen and was smeared around her eyes and had run down her cheeks in dark rivulets. Her brunette wig was dishevelled and clumps of her hair were matted, glued together by the hideous man’s issue from when he had spent himself over her face. She tore off the wig and turned away from the mirror and turned on the shower; turning up the hot water until she could barely stand to hold her hand under it. She looked at the water cascading across her painted fingernails and began to sob uncontrollably; she hated herself. Why did she have this uncontrollable urge to dress like a woman!!! She had got what she deserved she thought as she removed her jewellery; dressing up like some high class hooker had attracted this revolting vile man! Michele started tearing off her clothes; she pulled her semen and makeup stained white skirt down around her ankles and kicked it into the corner of the bathroom; her high-heels skidded on the tiled floor as she kicked and she slipped and landed heavily on her arse. Now she started to laugh uncontrollably; she realised that her sobbing and laughing were symptoms of shock due to what had happened to her; being violated in her own home. She tore off her blouse and it joined the wig and skirt in the corner. She propped her back against the hard wall and reached down and unbuckled her high-heels; they too joined the growing heap of womanly attire.

Michele slithered out of her slip and she couldn’t suppress a flash of arousal as the slinky garment slid down her stockinged legs creating a little electric shock of pleasure. She suppressed the feeling and felt further disgust with herself for having such a feeling at a time like this. Michele was becoming enraged with herself now and she grabbed at her garterbelt and the waistband of her pantyhose and nylon panties and pulled them down around her ankles in one tangled bunch. She reached down to the stockings and pantyhose clinging to her ankles and pulled them over her pretty painted toes and scrunched them, along with her panties and garterbelt, into a perfumed silky ball of nylon and lace which she also kicked unceremoniously into the corner with the rest of her clothes. She did not want to touch her lingerie as it was stained not only with the Predator’s semen, but her own spend; she felt even more loathing with herself for climaxing whilst the Predator had had his way with her. Lastly she shucked herself out of her brassiere, which then became the last garment to join the dishevelled heap of clothing in the corner of her bathroom. Michele pulled herself to her feet again and stepped naked under the shower, deliberately not looking in the mirror on the way past. She grabbed a washcloth and poured a liberal amount of moisturising cleanser into it and began to scrub at her face, removing her makeup as the scalding hot water cascaded over her body.

The Predator listened to the sobbing and then the laughing coming from the bathroom and finally the sounds of the bitch showering. He realised that the incoherent laughter and crying were the result of shock; more importantly he realised that this cunt was going to comply with his every order. The Predator continued to work on his rudimentary plan as he rummaged through the clothing in the wardrobe and dresser. He didn’t want to see the transvestite when she emerged from the bathroom; seeing her as a man would ruin the fantasy; he wanted to see her only as a woman. He would select the outfit she was to wear and then wait in another room until she was dressed. The scattered clothing that the transvestite had left on the bed when she was dressing before he had invaded her house was swept onto the floor; he already knew what he wanted her to wear.

The Predator selected a black leather miniskirt and a longsleeved white nylon blouse from the wardrobe. The blouse had ruffles on the décolletage and cuffs and to him it looked both classy but also slutty. He threw them on the bed and then went back to the wardrobe and chose a pair of extremely high-heeled, red leather open-toe sandals; he played with the shiny red straps and silver buckles for a while and then tossed them onto the bed next to the skirt and blouse. From her dresser he took a lacy red brassiere and matching panties which he laid on the bed along with a black satin suspender-belt. He whistled to himself as his rummaging produced a pair of exquisite black stockings. He held them up to the light and stared at the diaphanous black nylons with their darker reinforced Cuban heels and stocking-tops; tiny diamantes decorated the satiny stocking-tops and Cuban heels; a black seam ran up the back of the stockings. He licked his lips and gently fingered the gossamer hose, being careful not to snag them. These he lay gently next to the rest of the lingerie on the bed.

The Predator felt himself stiffen and he turned his back to the bed and walked over to dressing table; he picked up a bright-red lipstick and wrote on the mirror in large letters: ‘DON’T FORGET THE BLONDE WIG!!!’ He checked that the window was locked, pulled the blinds and ripped the phone out of the wall socket. As he heard the shower stop in the bathroom he walked out of bedroom and went down the corridor into the kitchen. He was fully sober now and needed a drink. He found and opened a bottle of red wine; he guzzled the wine straight out of the bottle, thin streams of the dark red liquor ran from the corners of his mouth. The Predator pulled a kitchen chair into the corridor to where he could see the bedroom door and straddled the chair so that his elbows rested on the backrest. He occasionally gulped from the bottle as he finalised his plan, all the time his icy cold eyes stared at the bedroom door.

Michele emerged from the bathroom full of resolve and determination. She didn’t know what the Predator had in store for her but she knew that she would not be able to overpower him unless she could catch him off guard; maybe acquire some form of weapon in the house, or make an escape whilst he was distracted. She had thought about her predicament whilst she stood under the shower washing away the residues of his attacks. She hurt a little down there, but it was only a weak throb caused from being invaded in a place that until tonight had been virginal. Michele knew that she had to pretend to comply with Predator’s every wish until she had a chance to escape or incapacitate him.

Michele looked around the bedroom and was glad to see that he had left the room; she didn’t want him to see her as a man; somehow she could deal with the humiliation while she was dressed and feeling like a woman; but standing powerless, man to man, in front of him would be unbearable. She looked around the room at her scattered clothes that the Predator had swept from her bed and her eyes settled on where he had laid out what she was to wear. She sat down at her dresser and looked in the mirror. The predator’s warning glared at her; ‘DON’T FORGET THE BLONDE WIG!!!’ in big red letters. She was tempted to wipe the lipsticked threat from the glass but she thought that should she get through this the writing may be evidence that could be useful to the authorities. Couldn’t the police identify criminals from their handwriting? Who was she kidding? There was no way she was going to the police or anybody with her story. It was inconceivable that she would confess to being a transvestite and even more inconceivable that she would admit to what had been done to her by this monster. Besides the authorities would probably think she was a freak and got only what she deserved. Michele fetched the blond bob from its wig-stand and placed it on the dresser and arranged her makeup in order to begin her transformation.

The Predator had finalised his plan; he knew exactly how he was going to degrade this cunt! She couldn’t tell anyone about what was happening to her because she was obviously living a double life; he doubted a soul knew she was transvestite. That would be the weapon he would use to control her over the coming hours; the fear of discovery of her fucked up double life. And what an interesting few hours it would be! Moving in the circles he did, the Predator knew a few close companions who would love to play this game with him. Of course none of them knew he was the infamous rapist known as “The Predator” who was carving a swathe of terror through the city; but they were intimate enough that they had shared their sadistic fantasies with each other. Oh yes; even though he would have to wake them in these early hours, he knew they would love to participate in his game. He reached into his shirt pocket and took out his cellular phone. As he punched up the phonebook he sniggered to himself.

Michele commenced her ritual; she stroked her face with her fingertips. Her skin was still smooth from the close shave she had had two hours ago. God, had this nightmare only been happening for two hours? It seemed like forever! She applied a thick but even basecoat of foundation to her face and neck and then set it with a liberal dusting of matching face powder. She then went to work on her eyes. Michele forced her hand to remain steady whilst she applied eyeliner, as close to her lash-line as possible, to her upper and lower eyelids. She started in the very corner of her each eye and worked outwards applying two or three coats and touching up where necessary so that her eyes were framed by the black makeup. The concentration required to apply the eyeliner almost took her mind off the current situation. Next she carefully brushed dark pink eyeshadow onto her eyelids working from the inner corner of each eye to the centre above her pupils. She worked the powder upwards to her eyebrows and then applied a coat of aqua-blue out to the far corners of her eyes, lightening the shade as she worked it up to her brows. This colour effect had worked for her before with the blond wig; she was trying to archive that ‘society-slut’ look again. She stifled a laugh as she realised the efforts she was going to satisfy the monster waiting for her outside the door. Michele again realised that her mind was operating its own defence mechanism; if she didn’t laugh she would scream.

Michele smoothed and blended the eyeshadow with a small brush and made final adjustments with her fingertip. She noticed the plumb red nail polish on her fingernails; she must have done a good job applying it earlier because it didn’t even need a touch-up. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about what colour lipstick to wear; every girl knew that you should match your nail polish and lipstick if possible; she stared to giggle hysterically again and forced herself to stop. Next she applied lashings of mascara to her upper and lower eyelashes; her hand started shaking again and a few small clumps of mascara fell onto her cheek and she carefully lifted them off with her little fingernail. “Concentrate!” she whispered to herself; the last thing she needed to do was fuck up her makeup and have to start all over again! She cleaned the mascara brush and evened out any small clumps that clung to her lashes. She was always amazed at how her eye makeup highlighted the colour of her eyes and made them shine and sparkle; “Not bad for an old boiler,” she giggled to herself again. She gripped the edge of the dresser and forced herself to stop before she became hysterical.

The Predator had made six phone calls and had been successful in getting through to four of his acquaintances (he wouldn’t call them friends as such; just persons with a mutual attraction to sexual peccadillos that shall we say, strayed from the accepted norm). Two of those he spoke to had declined his offer, the hour being too late, but two of them leapt at the proposal he put to them; they were even now getting out of bed, dressing, and preparing to meet up with him. After all, how could men like these resist having sex with a stuck up society bitch who liked it rough and hard; if her fantasy was to pretend to be taken against her will by tough, hard men; then they were just what she was looking for. Of course the Predator hadn’t told them the real story; he didn’t want to spoil their surprise! He took another slug of wine from the bottle and smiled his lizard smile to himself.

Michele applied blush to her cheeks and smoothed it into her foundation and face powder and then dusted her whole face and neck with coating of sheer-glow finishing powder, being careful not to smudge her mascara and eyeliner. Finally she applied two coats of plum coloured lipstick, biting down on tissue after each coat to set the lipstick. She adjusted the blond bob wig on her head and checked out the result in her mirror. The transformation never failed to astound her; from a plain, smooth-faced man she had become a heavily made-up middle-aged woman. Her blonde fringe framed her exotic eyes and her bangs caressed her rouged cheeks and highlighted her luscious red mouth. Now she needed to complete the transformation.

Michele sat on the edge of the bed and inspected the clothes that had been laid out for her. She rose once more went to her dresser and opened a drawer, she extracted a package of sheer-to-the-waist pantyhose; size large, colour taupe-sand, the packaging said. She sat on the bed again and eased the pantyhose from the slim packet and slipped the hosiery over her pretty painted toes and slid the sheer nylon up her feet one foot at a time. She carefully eased the pantyhose up her legs keeping the nylon taught; smoothing out the wrinkles as she went. She stood up and pulled the waistband of the pantyhose up over her crotch and smoothed the nylon gusset around her midriff to just below her bellybutton. Michele adjusted her sex so that the bulge it created was minimal. She took the black satin suspender-belt and adjusted it around her waist so that the top of garment covered the waistband of the pantyhose.

Michele sat back down on the bed and drew the diaphanous black nylon stockings up her legs one at a time; the stockings sighed their nylon on nylon whisper as they glided over her pantyhosed legs. She adjusted the Cuban heels and carefully adjusted the back-seams so they lay straight and centred along the back of her legs and then clipped the garters hanging from the suspender-belt to the reinforced stocking tops. As she smoothed the nylons along her legs she suppressed the shiver of excitement she always felt when she stroked her hosed legs. Michele stepped into the red panties; they were full-cut with a lace panel at the front, the gusset and seat were shiny red satin; there was no cotton panel in the gusset; none of Michele’s panties or knickers had cotton gussets, she loved the feel of nylon and satin on her body not cotton. She hooked the brassiere together and eased it over her head, adjusting the straps on her shoulders and settling the cups in the right position; she walked over to a drawer and took out several pairs of old pantyhose which she stuffed into the cups of the bra to fill them. Next she stepped into the black leather mini and pulled the skirt up her legs and adjusted it around her waist; she left it unzipped until she had donned the white nylon blouse. Again she struggled with the buttons being on the opposite side to which she was used to; she tucked the blouse into her skirt and zipped it up. She arranged the ruffles on her décolletage and lifted up her skirt to pull the bottom of the blouse so it hung straight and tight against her body; she noticed the light glimmer off the tiny diamantes that decorated her black reinforced stocking tops as she smoothed down the mini and straightened the hem at mid-thigh.

Michele moved over to the dresser and inspected herself in the mirror; with her blond hair, leather mini and her red brassiere showing through the gauzy white blouse she looked like a middle-aged, well to do, hooker. She decided to contrast all the red she was wearing by clipping silver mounted emerald drops to her ears and placing a silver and emerald necklace around her neck and matching bracelets on both wrists. She put on four large silver rings, two on the fingers of each hand; the rings were set with emeralds and rubies. It was all costume jewellery of course. She sat back on the bed and slid her feet into the red leather high-heeled sandals; buckling the thin red straps just below her ankles. These were her highest heels and she always had problems walking in them; she wondered how she would fare trying to run away in them. Michele fastened a silver anklet below her left ankle; another fake emerald glittered as it hung from the thin silver chain fastened to the anklet. Finally she stood up and tottered over to the dresser and sprayed a liberal amount of ‘Poison’ cologne on her neck and décolletage; she reached down under her skirt and sprayed her thighs as well; she giggled again and had to compose herself once more so that she would not break down. She had to convince this revolting man that she was his compliant plaything until she could make her move and escape. Michele took a deep breath and opened the bedroom door; she was ready!

The Predator was impressed when the tart tottered into the hallway on her spiky red heels; she looked so sexy that he was tempted to turn her around and take her back into the bedroom and fuck her again, but he had made his plans and intended to stick to them. He beckoned her towards him and she slowly moved down the hallway towards the kitchen door. He pointed into the kitchen and as she squeezed past him he couldn’t help himself and he reached out and squeezed her arse; the transvestite squealed and scampered into the kitchen. The Predator came in behind her and walked over to the table where he had poured a glass of red wine which he now held out to her. His demeanour was such that she didn’t dare decline and she took the glass and drained it. It was a good sign for him that she would be complaint. Just to make sure, he picked up a large knife and held it under her face. He explained to her that in no circumstances was she to attempt escape; that they were going for a ride, and when they got to their destination she was to keep her mouth shut. “Go and get your makeup bitch; you’ll need it,” he ordered.

Michele was hustled into the kitchen and as she passed the man he squeezed her behind making her squeal and she nearly tripped over in her high heels. She took the wine he offered to her and drank it down in one gulp, grateful for the alcohol which she hoped would dull her senses enough to deal with the forthcoming situation but not so much so she could keep her wits about her should a chance to escape present itself. Then she received the biggest shock since this pig had bent her over the kitchen table and taken her from behind; under the threat of a knife held under her chin, the madman explained that he was taking her out someplace. Taking her out!!!! My god; the thought of venturing outside dressed as a woman scared the hell out of her. What if he abandoned her miles from home? What if he took her to some place where she was recognised? Then she realised that the prospect of this animal murdering her or permanently wounding her was far more of a worry than being caught dressed as a woman; besides he couldn’t take her anywhere too public or she would be tempted to attempt an escape or cry for help. She assented to his directions to keep quiet and compliant; she would bide her time! When he ordered her to get her makeup she went back to the bedroom and swept all of the makeup she had just used into a small makeup case which she tossed into her only handbag, a cheap red clutch. She dropped the small bottle of ‘Poison” cologne in too, and left the bedroom to go to her fate.

Michele thanked god for the darkness of night as she ventured outdoors dressed as a woman for the first time. When the man finally had her situated in the passenger seat of his car and they were finally driving down the quiet streets she actually felt slightly enthused; she was exhilarated at being outside in the world as a woman for the first time but safe inside the car where no one would identify her. Michele had come to realise after crossdressing for a little while that when she was dressed and made-up it was unlikely that anyone would recognise her anyway, unless they got real close or unless she spoke; then she realised what the Predator had said about her not speaking; where was he taking her? Then she felt a hand rest on her stockinged knee and slowly slide up her thigh and under her skirt; she shuddered with the double reaction of the uninvited caress and the realisation that she was being taken somewhere where there would be other people.

The Predator found it hard to concentrate on driving, he was so excited; not only that his plan was about to come fruition, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the sexy bitch siting beside him. She was deep in thought and didn’t realise that her skirt had ridden up and her sexy nyloned legs and stocking tops were on display for all to see. The Predator reached out and gently placed his hand on her gossamer encased knee and slowly slid it up her thigh and under her skirt. He rubbed two fingers along the edge of her satin panties, caressing her pantyhosed thighs above the stocking tops, and he stroked across the lace panelled front of her panties; he felt her squirm, but as he continued stroking her panties he also felt her start to stiffen. He quickly pulled his had away; he didn’t know how he felt about that yet. He was certainly aroused touching her legs and arse, and he had no qualms with her being a transvestite as long as he thought of her as a woman; he had ruminated about fucking her and being fellated by her earlier in the night and felt ok about it. He still wasn’t sure how he felt about the fact that she had ejaculated whilst he done those things to her and that she was getting aroused at his touch. It was a quite a different thing to actually touch her thingy; even though her panties, ‘Maybe just let that lie for a while and see what happened?’ he thought. Besides here was their destination; he pulled into the car park of a seedy bar, turned off the engine and reached across and opened the door for the bitch and told her to get out.

The Predator moved close in on her right side and pulled her hard against him and marched her to the door of the dark seedy bar. He produced the knife again and held it under her chin and reminded her of the consequences of trying to escape or opening her yap. She nodded assent and as he looked into her pretty eyes he just had to kiss her; she looked so fucking good! He pulled her hard against him, sliding one hand down to her arse, and kissed her long and deep, his tongue slowly flicking in and out of her mouth in time with the dry humping he was giving her, his cock rock hard in his pants rubbing against her. He eased her gently away from him and then pulled her to his side again; “Be good sweety and you might just get home safe,” he whispered breathlessly in her ear, nuzzling her earlobe as her blonde bob tickled his lips. Then he marched her into the dark gloomy bar, past a line of scarcely populated tables to a booth in the back. He pushed her onto the cheap vinyl bench seat and forced her to slide along so that she was jammed against the man who occupied the corner of the bench and was leaning against the wall; he pushed her along the seat until she was sandwiched between them; “Hi Red,” he murmured, “look what I bought us to play with.” The Predator grinned at the transvestite and then pulled her face towards his and kissed her; then he turned her head towards the man now known as Red, and Red leaned forward and kissed her too. The Predator looked at Red and winked; simultaneously they both unzipped their flies.

Michele came out of her reverie in the car and stated to squirm as she realised the Predator had taken one hand off the steering wheel and was stroking the outline of the leg opening on her panties, his fingers slithered inside the hem stroking the nylon gusset of her pantyhose. Then his hand skated across the lace panel in the front of her panties and she felt herself become aroused. As her member thickened in the confines of her pantyhose and panties it started to become uncomfortable; then the monster snatched his hand away. Just as she was yet again about to become dismayed at her reactions to the man’s ministrations he pulled the car into a car park, stopped the car and leaned over her and opened the door. He told her to get out and as she alighted, she took in the façade of the cheap sleazy bar where they had stopped. Two thoughts crossed her mind: no one here would know her, and the place looked like trouble. The doorway entry was dark; except for cheap neon beer signs in the windows and a dull yellow light in the car park there was little signs of life. There were about six or seven cars in the lot. A fading, dirty neon sign on the roof flashed ‘Open All Nite’; what a hovel!

Michele felt her captor move close in beside her and he frogmarched her to the door of the bar where she was taken by surprise when he produced a knife and grunted at her to remind her to keep quiet. Michele nodded and held his gaze briefly; then he really surprised her and pulled her hard against him. He encircled her in his strong arms and mashed his lips against hers, forcing his tongue into her mouth. One of his hands slid down the back of her blouse to her skirt and fondled her arse; the lining in the leather skirt rasped against her satin panties. She felt him press against her and could feel the heat and girth of his hard cock through his jeans as he rubbed against his pubis against hers through her skirt. Michele was just about to lift her arms and hold him in a reciprocal embrace when he gently extricated himself. She convinced herself that she was only going to embrace him back as on impulse; she had not enjoyed the experience! Had she????

Michele was pulled close against his side again and he nuzzled her ear and whispered; “Be good sweety and you might just get home safe,” then she was marched into bar. The smell of stale beer, cigarette smoke, and sweat assaulted her nose. The place was as dark and squalid inside as it appeared from the outside and she felt the eyes of the few faceless, seedy, patrons linger over her body as she was led to a booth in the back of the bar. Back here it was even darker, the only light emitting from a feeble, fly-specked red bulb hanging over a door that had a wooden sign, ‘His,’ hanging from it at a drunken angle. She was pushed down onto the bench of the back corner booth facing the barroom, hemmed in by a wall behind her and another against the far end of the booth. Then she realised there was a man sitting in the dark corner of the booth. Her captor sat next to her and began to push her further into the corner, she felt the cheap vinyl bench stick to her thighs even through two layers of nylon stockings; what a fucking dump!

Michele ended up sandwiched between the Predator and the stranger who occupied the corner of the booth. She heard her subjugator murmur something about ‘red’ which she didn’t understand. She certainly understood the implication of the next sentence that he spoke, “Look what I bought us to play with!” Then she was forced to turn her face towards the Predator who kissed her and then he turned her towards the other man who also kissed her. The stranger had recently shaved and smelled of the shower he must have recently taken, and although she could taste scotch and cigarettes on his breath, she could also discern an aftertaste of mouthwash. He kissed her gently, running his tongue along the inside of her mouth. He was only the second man that had ever kissed her and he was far more gentle and considerate than the Predator. Then Michele paled; she heard the unmistakeable sound of a zipper being opened. She looked down and saw that both men had their flies open and had taken out their semi erect penises.

The Predator saw the transvestite go pale even in the dim light of the bar. Oh fuck he was going to enjoy this; humiliating the bitch in public; and the night was only just beginning as far as he was concerned. He took the bitch’s right hand and placed it in his lap, he watched as Red did the same with her left hand. He pulled her face roughly towards his and growled, “Stroke those cocks bitch or I’ll break your fucking fingers one at a time!” The Predator felt her fingers loosely circle his cock and start to slowly stroke him. He reached down and squeezed her wrist, at the same time he bought his face close to hers and whispered, “Harder.” He looked at her made up face in the gloom; her eyes dark with mascara and eyeliner; the highlights of her eyeshadow fringed by the blonde bob; her peachy cheeks and plumb red lips, he groaned and pressed his lips to hers. He lifted his hand to the back of her head and stroked her hair as he mouth fucked her; driving his tongue in and out of her sweet moist mouth as he mashed their lips together.

The Predator felt the woman grasp his penis tighter and begin a rhythm of slow, hard strokes. He could feel her body moving against his as she set the same rhythm with her other hand as she masturbated Red to the same cadence. He loved the scent of her perfume, the feel of her hair as he stroked it, and the sensuous taste of her lipstick as they kissed. His cock became rock hard under her grip and he could feel pre-seminal fluid leaking from the eye of his glans providing lubrication as she stroked him harder. She did not pick up the pace at all; she just squeezed his shaft harder on each upstroke. He knew he wouldn’t last long and he didn’t want to; this was just an hors d'oeuvre for what was to come. He kissed her harder and deeper and felt his orgasm approaching. He wanted her to see what he was forcing her to do; to see what effect she was having on the sordid patrons of this seedy bar, so he pulled his face away from hers. “Look,” he said, and the silly bitch misunderstood and lowered her eyes to look at the two cocks she was wanking. “No! out there stupid!” he hissed and she looked up to see that just about every head in the bar was turned their way, watching the woman on the corner booth wanking off two men simultaneously. The Predator looked at her stunned pretty face and felt her clench his turgid penis tighter still in a shock reaction; he groaned and relaxed as his issue jetted forth from the eye of his cock; he looked down to see his sperm shoot out in long thick ropes and splash over her sleek nyloned thighs, and as the spasms of his orgasm subsided, globs of sperm ran down his shaft and over her clenched fingers coating her painted red fingernails with hot viscous fluid. He heard Red groan too as his orgasm shook him. The fun had just begun.

To Be Continued.................

Notes:

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