Big Hard Girls

by Nikki Crescent

It was a fun night. Lots of Kent’s buddies showed up to the party, and it wasn’t long before a game of beer pong was underway. Kent lost track of Andrew for a while, and then he found him in the kitchen doing a keg stand. Fresh bottles of beer kept ending up in Kent’s hands, and he made sure to polish off all of them.

  His confidence was back. He found himself chatting with girls—sometimes two or three at a time. He caught girls checking him out from across the party, smiling and probably wishing he would bring them upstairs for a quickie. But Kent wanted to make sure he was going to go home with the right girl—the best possible choice—the hottest at the party. He wanted a reminder that he still had what girls wanted. He was still the macho man that girls fantasized about at night when they played with their vibrators.

  And he had his eyes on a pretty brunette, who couldn’t have been much older than nineteen. She had dark freckles and the cutest little nose. She looked at him and smiled with a little wave. Kent smiled back, and he felt good about the fact that he didn’t look away with shy anxiety, like he was doing the night before. Maybe his confidence really was back. Maybe that was just a temporary blip to his ego.

  He decided to wait before approaching her, letting her get a drink or two more inside of her. Also, he didn’t want to look desperate. He wanted to play it cool, and he wanted her to think that he wasn’t just there for the potential sex. He was just there to have fun.

  He found Andrew again in the basement, smoking pot with a bunch of black guys. “There’s a cutie upstairs that I’ve got my eyes on,” Kent said. But Andrew was too stoned to reply coherently. He just ended up laughing and then coughing and then smoking some more pot.

  So Kent returned to the party by himself, now planning to find the girl so he could make his move. He looked for her in the living room, but she wasn’t there. Though a group of three girls did catch his attention. He recognized one from the diner that morning: the blonde with the choker who wasn’t really a girl at all. And the two girls with her now also weren’t girls at all. Kent was seeing a fresh new pair of sissies, probably the product of that strange sissy hypno. Was dressing up like a girl a new trend, or was Kent just noticing it more now after listening to that first tape? What the hell had gotten into these young men? Why were they doing this to themselves?

  The blonde made eye contact with Kent, so Kent looked away quickly. That wasn’t a girl he wanted to be seen talking to, even if she only came up to say something along the lines of, ‘Weren’t you at the diner this morning?’ He didn’t want anything to do with feminized men or sissies or transgenders or any of it. He was a man and he liked it that way. That’s why he was listening to those dumb recordings: to prove it.

  He found the cute brunette a few minutes later in the kitchen. He was already a bit drunk, so building up the courage to talk to her was easy. He stumbled up and tapped her on the shoulder and then he said, “Hi, I’m Kent. What’s your beautiful name?” He had a big smirk on his face. The girls around all laughed. The brunette’s face turned red.

  “Cassie,” she said with a cute, shy voice. Kent found himself looking closely at her throat, making sure she wasn’t one of them. There was no lump to be seen, and her shoulders were nice and narrow and feminine.

  “Sorry if I’m being forward, but I saw you from across the room and I just think you’re so beautiful. I hope that doesn’t make you feel uncomfortable.” He was almost yelling, making sure his voice was heard over the music.

  “Thank you,” Cassie said. Her cheeks turned even redder.

  “I really love your shoes. They’re super cute,” Kent said. And then he caught himself, unsure of where those words came from. He felt his face turn red with embarrassment.

  She laughed. “Um, thank you,” she said. And she was probably put off by the compliment. No straight man should ever compliment a woman’s shoes. “I got them last week on sale. They’re usually five hundred bucks, but I got them for one-fifty.”

  “Cool,” Kent said, trying to think of something else to talk about. “Do you like football? You strike me as the type of girl who likes football.”

  She smiled. “Go Saints, Go!” she said before letting a little giggle slip. She had a cute giggle. Kent knew plenty about the Saints, so he pretended to be a Saints fan and they ended up talking for the next hour—first about football, then about other sports, then about college, and then about exes. It was around midnight when they found themselves upstairs in a locked bedroom, so they could chat more privately. But once that door was locked, it wasn’t chatting that they got up to. Kent kissed Cassie on the lips and Cassie wrapped her arms around Kent’s body.

  She was petite and soft and warm. Her body was light. Kent easily lifted her up, placing the palms of his hands on her butt to hold up her weight. She squeezed her thighs against his waist and continued kissing him, even after they fell onto the bed together. Kent had no idea whose bed it was, but it was big and plump and covered in floral sheets. It was probably the parents of whoever was throwing the party—some poor couple away on vacation.

  Kent quickly stripped his little brunette date. He squeezed her tits and sucked her nipples and then he sunk down even further to eat out her perfect little pussy. She was all shaved and smooth, with a few little red bumps of razor burn. She probably shaved right before the party, knowing sex was a strong possibility. Kent got his tongue in deep, making her squirm and moan. She became wet quickly, dribbling down her legs and his face. He kept licking away, making her wetter and warmer.

  Then she flipped him over and did away with his belt and his jeans and his boxer shorts. She gasped at the sight of his large, erect penis. She carefully reached out for it and lifted it up with glowing eyes. “It’s so big,” she said, her voice shaken.

  “Suck it,” he said. “You’ll like it.”

  She grinned and then bit her lip. Her whole face was a shade of dark red. She leaned forward and opened her mouth and allowed the cock inside. She began to suck, bobbing her head slowly. It felt nice, though she was being a bit gentle for Kent’s preference. So Kent grabbed her head and started to push it down further, helping her pull back with each bob. He even reached down and tried pushing her jaw down, so that she was putting more pressure on his throbbing rod.

  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in. It felt good, and it was only feeling better and better with each passing moment. She had her hands on his thighs. He took one and he brought it around to his ass. He singled out one of her fingers and he began to press it against his hole. Then he stopped himself, his heart stuttering.

  “Stop,” he said. So she stopped, looking up at him with warm saliva all over her lips.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  He forced a smile. “Nothing. Let’s get to it maybe, shall we?” He flipped her onto her back and then he rolled over her. “Are you on birth control?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” she said.

  “And you’re clean?”

  “Yeah,” she said. So he took his wet cock and he pressed it into her wet pussy. She gasped loudly. That gasp made him smile bigger than he’d smiled in days. He loved watching her face as she went through so many different emotions: pain, elation, confusion, certainty, and so many more. She reached up and grabbed his sides and held on tight while he started to thrust his massive throbber in and out of her body. “Oh God,” she moaned.

  He grabbed her tits and squeezed them tight, leaving dark red marks where his fingers were. Then he brought a hand up to her throat and strangled her—just enough to get her off, but not enough to make her pass out. She liked it. Girls always like it. She ended up squirting all over those floral bed sheets.

  Then he closed his eyes as he felt the orgasm building up inside of him. He felt that amazing tingle at the tip of his cock, and it was getting intense fast. He came down harder and harder, listening to the sound of his pelvis slapping her bum. Then he felt a tingle growing deep inside of his body, somewhere below his gut and behind his pelvis. It was a new euphoria that he had
n’t felt before, but it was amazing. So he kept thrusting harder and harder, letting that amazing sensation take over his body. “Fuck, I’m going to come!” he said.

  “Come inside of me,” she said with begging, glistening eyes.

  He followed her command, filling up her tight hole with his hot load. She gasped and smiled and groaned and then she pushed her fingers even further up Kent’s asshole. And that’s when Kent looked down and snapped, “What the hell are you doing?”

  “What?” she said with two fingers deep in Kent’s asshole, up to her knuckles.

  “Pull those out!” he said.

  So she pulled her fingers out. She looked frightened now, afraid of what Kent might do next. “You asked me to do it so I did it,” she said.

  “What are you talking about?” he asked as he stood up. His cum started to drool out from her tight pussy hole.

  “You said ‘finger my asshole’, so I did it. And it made you come. I thought that’s what you wanted. Did I do it wrong?”

  Kent’s heart was pounding. Was she screwing with him? When did he say that? He didn’t remember saying it. He quickly grabbed his pants and pulled them up. “I have to get going.”

  Cassie stared at him with confused and frightened eyes as he quickly got dressed and left. But she probably wasn’t nearly as confused as Kent was. Kent’s heart refused to stop pounding even after he got home from the party. He took his third shower of the day, even though he wasn’t dirty. He thought the warm water would bring some clarity into his head, but it didn’t. He still couldn’t figure out what had happened.

  Though he had a bad feeling he knew exactly what was happening: that first sissy hypno tape had messed with his brain. It was the only way to explain all of the weird things that were happening to him.

  But that couldn’t be it. Kent had a strong will. He wasn’t just some easily manipulated sheep like everyone else. He had solid morals that couldn’t be confused by a few hours of some British voice, and he was determined to prove it. So after his shower he downloaded that second five-hour recording. He put on his headphones and he got comfortable in his bed. And once again, he scoffed at the ridiculousness of the recording.

  “We had fun last night, didn’t we?” the British woman said. “You looked so cute in that little skirt. And your face got so red—I still can’t believe how red your face got! But tonight I need your help with something. I left all of my makeup at a hotel in London, and Sephora is having a big sale. Maybe you can help me pick out some new makeup! I really need a good eyeliner. I want a liquid eyeliner—something so I can draw very thin lines. Maybe you even want to try it out for me. You would look so hot with a bit of eyeliner—don’t you think? You’ve got such pretty eyes. I would kill to have eyes like yours. And your eyelashes! You hardly even need mascara—though don’t you think you would look so cute with some mascara? Let’s go to the mall to see what we can find.”

  And that’s about when Kent dozed off.

  CHAPTER IV

  Kent sprung out from his bed as soon as he realized he was awake. He wrestled his headphones out from his ears and then he took a deep breath. His forehead was covered in sweat, though he wasn’t sure why. He pulled off the blankets to make sure everything was still normal. His heart relaxed a bit when he saw that he was still intact. And he was strangely relieved to see that he still had his pubic hair, though he wasn’t sure why he was relieved.

  He was still a man. He still cringed at the thought of cocks and his cock still got hard at the thought of beautiful, naked women. No audio recordings could take Kent down. Words weren’t enough to screw up his brain.

  As he was showering that morning, he felt a sense of comfort in the realization that all of the weird things that happened the day before were probably because of his anxiety towards the tape recordings, but not because of the tape recordings themselves. The tapes were probably just placebos: harmless, but the suggestion that they might do something might make a few guys go crazy. And the men who end up becoming full-blown sissies at the end of their seven-night trial—they were probably already sissies to begin with. They probably already wished they could go around in women’s clothing. It was the only explanation that Kent could wrap his mind around.

  It was Sunday, his last day off before work. Kent had been invited to a football party at a friend’s house. He was asked to bring some beer and a snack to share with everyone, so his first stop that morning was the grocery store. He bought a twelve-pack of Bud Light, a large pack of chicken wings, and a bottle of buffalo wing sauce.

  The party didn’t start until 11:00 AM, when the first game of the day kicked off, so Kent still had a couple of hours to kill. He decided to kill those hours at the dog park.

  Kent didn’t have a dog—and he didn’t even like dogs very much—but the dog park was always his go-to place to go when he had time to kill. It was free and the park was always filled with beautiful, single women. Sure, most of them were psychotic women who thought their dogs were their children, but there were some sane cuties in the mix as well.

  Kent always had the same excuse to tell girls when they asked where his dog was. “I was supposed to meet a girl here for this blind date, but she didn’t show up. So I just figured I would go for a walk and admire all the cute dogs while I was here.” It was the perfect line: establishing that he was single and establishing that he had something in common with the cute dog owners—even though it was technically a lie. He didn’t hate dogs, he just didn’t want one in his house, scratching up the cabinets and pissing all over the rug.

  He used his line on a cute redhead who was walking two large German Shepherd dogs. He watched as her cheeks nearly became the same colour as her hair. She batted her long eyelashes and said, “She really stood you up?”

  “I guess so,” Kent said, shrugging his shoulders, trying to look a little bit vulnerable but mostly unphased. He certainly didn’t want to look desperate. “Or maybe she saw me and ran away before I could see her.” He laughed.

  And the redhead shook her head. “No—I’m sure something just came up. I can’t imagine any girl running away from you.” Her cheeks turned an even darker shade of red. “I mean—you’re very handsome. I think any girl would be happy to go on a date with you.”

  Kent just smiled. “That’s very sweet of you to say.” He turned his attention to the woman’s large dogs. “I love your dogs. I’m a big German Shepherd guy.”

  “They’re Malinois.”

  “Aren’t they though?” Kent said, nodding his head. That must have been another word for smart or cute or something.

  “No, that’s the name of the breed. They aren’t German Shepherds.”

  “Oh,” Kent said. And now Kent’s cheeks were turning red. He forced a laugh. “If I’m going to be honest with you, I don’t really know a whole lot about dogs. I just love watching them play and bark and… all that dog stuff that they do.”

  “So what kind of things are you into?” she asked.

  And Kent had to think about it. He wanted to come up with an answer that would make her eyes glisten. He wanted to sweep her off of her feet. He loved watching her cheeks turn red and he wanted to do it again. Maybe he could even get her home before his football party started. Maybe he could get her to suck his cock and swallow his hot load. Maybe she would—

  “That’s unusual,” she said.

  Kent looked around. “What’s unusual?” he asked.

  “What you just said. I’ve never heard of a guy being into that before.” She looked confused and even a little bit concerned.

  “Into what?” Kent asked. The look on Kent’s face must have been even more contorted and confused.

  “You just said you were really getting into makeup.”

  “I did? No I didn’t,” Kent said. His heart started pounding and his hands started trembling. He took a deep breath in carefully. Was she screwing with him? Had he really told her he was getting into makeup?

  “I don’t know, man. That’s just what you
said. Are you okay?”

  Kent nodded his head. There was a lump the size of a fist now in his throat and a cold sweat down the back of his neck. He bit down on his tongue and said, “I should be going.” He got out of that park as fast as he could without running and looking like a complete lunatic—he only looked like a bit of a lunatic.

  Surely she was screwing with him. If he had said what she said he did, he would have noticed. He would have heard the words come out from his mouth, and he would have thought of the words before they came out. Words don’t just come out from someone’s mouth without them realizing it—unless he truly had lost his mind.

  He was relieved to see all of his buddies outside of the football party house, having a cigarette before the first game’s kick-off. “Nice of you to show up!” Andrew called out as he waved Kent over. “You okay? Your face is super white.”

  “Me? I’m fine. I just—didn’t get a ton of sleep last night,” Kent lied with a big smile. “And I skipped breakfast, so I’m looking forward to eating some nachos and chicken wings. Someone brought nachos, right?”

  “Kyle did,” said Andrew. “Are you sure you’re okay though? You kind of look like a zombie—no offense.”

  Kent nodded his head quickly. He couldn’t stop thinking about his encounter with the redhead. His heart hadn’t stopped pounding since those words apparently slipped off of his tongue. “I’ve actually been holding my piss for the last hour. Maybe I’ll go and use the bathroom.”

  Kent got up to the upstairs bathroom, locked the door, and then stared at himself in the mirror. His face was in fact white, except for the circles of red on his cheeks. His eyes were dark and sunken, as if he had a terrible illness. He ran the sink cold and then splashed some water on his face. Then he kept his eyes closed and took a deep breath.

  He knew he could stop. He didn’t have to listen to the other five tapes. He could stop after two, and the side effects would probably go away. He was still convinced the side-effects were just placebo effects, not actually from the tapes at all—so as long as he believed stopping would make him feel better, then it would work.