November 01, 2004

Her room is lit by candles and a setting sun. A black corset clings tightly to her body and 22 black balloons float on her hardwood floor. As she listens to jazz, she puts the finishing touches on her costume and waits for the expected guests.

“I’m a bumblebee,” she says, excited about the Halloween party. You’re the only one unprepared.

“Do you have anything for me to wear?”

She smiles, her lips touch yours, and from the closet she fetches a red corset. You always dreamed of wearing a corset, so you lose no time in removing your shirt. She wraps the corset around your waist with slow, sensuous movements. The materials grips your ribs — for a moment you have trouble breathing.

She’s good with makeup, she assures you, taking your hand and leading you to the bathroom.

Then comes pancake factor number one,
Eyeliner rose hips and lipgloss are such fun

Rouge and coloring incense and ice,
Perfume and kisses, oooo it’s all so nice.

You’re a slick little girl, you’re a slick little girl

When you look in the mirror you’re startled to see a stranger in your place. Next, she makes you squeeze into one of her skirts, your hard-on bulging the fabric awkwardly. “It sits better on you than on me,” she says, taking care of your problem.

The guests arrive in pairs. You put on a broad grin and stand by her side: tonight you’re just a sweet transvestite from Transsexual Transylvania. And she’s a wild and an untamed thing; she’s a bee with a deadly sting. You laugh with her and dance with her, and later when she’s bored you sneak with her into a yellow room and tell her that you love her.

Next morning when the party is over, you wash off your makeup and go back to being a boy. But you don’t stay that way for long. When Trevor arrives next evening to tell you about Halloween parties and his naked ass, he finds you wearing her clothes. You wanted to see how her pants looked on you, and you liked them so much you decided to keep them.

In her pants, you feel like a rock star. You wear her jeans on the ride home — their tightness gives you a hard-on. As you try to hide your erection you realize why men don’t wear low-cut women’s pants. You just hope no one will notice the tip of your penis poking from the top of your new pair of jeans.

That’s what you get for getting into her pants.