Big Hard Girls

by Nikki Crescent

  But if he stopped, what did that mean? If he cut himself off after just two nights, did that mean he wasn’t a real man? Did that mean he failed the test, like all of the trannies he’d seen over the past few days? He splashed some more water on his face.

  “It’s just in your head,” he said aloud quietly. He was just the victim of the power of suggestion, and not the power of some random British woman’s voice.

  In the mirror, Kent noticed something dangling on the back of the door: a red glimmer of lace hiding beneath a white housecoat. He turned around and uncovered a red bra and a matching pair of panties. He wasn’t surprised—Kyle’s house was always a mess. Kyle and his wife once had a bet to see who would eventually cave and do the stack of dishes in the kitchen. That stack remained there for three months while Kyle and his wife ate nothing but takeout. A couple of months later, they had a similar bet over the laundry. Kyle smelled like a wet sock for the better half of a year.

  So Kent wasn’t surprised to see a pair of panties left dangling on the back of the bathroom door on that Sunday morning. Though he was surprised to find himself holding that panties in his hands, feeling the lace with his fingers. He brought the little garment up to his nose and he sniffed. They were basically clean, though he could smell a bit of pussy on the crotch. He didn’t mind—Kyle’s wife was a babe, even though she was a bit of a slob like her husband.

  Kent looked around to make sure the blinds were closed and then he slipped his pants and boxers down. He carefully stepped into the red lacy panties and he pulled them up. They were tight on his cock, holding it in place firmly. He was used to boxers—not super tight lace. But in a weird way, it felt nice. He liked the way the tight lace rubbed against the tip of his cock. He liked the way it formed his figure in the mirror. He turned profile and admired his curves. And then he watched as his face turned white all over again. He was wearing a pair of panties—panties that belonged to his friend’s wife.

  But instead of ripping them off, he found himself smirking. He felt strangely naughty. He kind of liked the way he felt with his heart beating fast. He liked that warm, fuzzy fluttering inside of his gut. Maybe it would be fun and exciting to wear the panties underneath his clothes for the rest of the party.

  He slipped his boxers back over the panties and then he slipped his pants back on. He took a deep breath and then he re-joined his friends downstairs, just a minute after kick-off.

  And he sat with a big smirk on his face for the next five hours. Every time he moved even just a little bit, he could feel that lace rubbing against his cock. It was during the second game’s halftime that he went up to the bathroom and jerked himself off into Kyle’s toilet. It only took a few firm strokes before streamers of white cum were splashing into that toilet bowl. And he ended up coming more than ever before—probably three times as much as he usually came. Hell, he could have filled half a pint glass with all of the cum that blasted out the tip of his throbbing erection.

  He left the panties on for the rest of the afternoon. And it wasn’t until he was home that he pulled them off and flung them across the room. He stared at that small limp pile of lace as if it was a poisonous tarantula. He took a few heavy breaths and then he heard himself say, “What the fucking hell is wrong with me?” He looked down and saw that his cock was erect. It had pretty much been erect since he put the panties on, even after he finished masturbating.

  And now he was curious to know what was on that second tape. What did that British woman whisper into his ear? He pulled open the tape on his computer and listened to that last few minutes. “Do you like wearing my panties? They’re so cute on you. Don’t they feel so nice? Don’t you just love the way they feel, hugging your little sissy cock? I bet you want to come in those little panties—fill them with your warm, sissy cum. Of course you do. Look at yourself in the mirror. Oh my God, you’re so cute. I still can’t believe how cute you are in that eyeliner. You would look even cuter with some warm cum dribbling down your face—but maybe we’ll save that for another time. For now, just enjoy this. Enjoy the simple pleasure of a snug pair of panties. And look in the mirror again at that sexy face. My God, you’re so hot. I bet I know a few guys who would bend you over and fuck you’re little boy pussy. Wouldn’t that feel nice?”

  Kent turned the recording off before it reached the end. His heart was pounding ferociously now. But he was still convinced it was just a coincidence. It couldn’t be real. No recording can make a man put on women’s panties. Kent did that voluntarily, to satisfy a curiosity… But what curiosity was he trying to satisfy?

  He splashed some more cool water on his face. “It’s just a coincidence,” he said to himself. And he was sure of it. It couldn’t be real. If the effects of that tape were real, then ghosts were probably real, and aliens, and Bigfoot… It was just impossible, and he was determined to prove it. He downloaded the third recording to his computer and he slipped on his headphones. Once he was comfortable in his bed, he pressed play.

  “Hey again. Ready to have some more fun? There’s so much I want to do with you tonight, but first we need to get you back in your makeup. I’m thinking we’ll go for a cat eye look today—something sexy—something the boys will notice. I picked up the cutest highlight at the store today. It’s got these gold sparkles in it. I think you’ll love it. And I also picked up something else.” The girl in the recording let a cute giggle slip. “It’s lingerie—the naughty kind. The kind you only wear with boys you want inside of you. It’s even got a hole, right in the back, perfect for your boy pussy. What do you think? Want to try it on? It’s red, just like the panties you wore yesterday.”

  Just a coincidence, Kent thought to himself. Though the coincidences were really starting to add up.

  CHAPTER V

  When Kent woke up the next morning, he was tempted to listen to the end of the recording, to hear what crazy nonsense the British woman talked about while he was sleeping. But he resisted the urge. He knew that if he listened, he would probably find himself feeling more susceptible to her suggestions.

  He felt no different once again. He was nearly halfway through the tapes, and he was still confident that he was a man. He was still confident that he loved women and tits and pussies. In fact, he decided to jerk off to some high-definition lesbian pornography that morning, just to prove it. He got off in less than two minutes, while the girls were fingering each other under their skirts, before they were even fully undressed. And then he found himself with a big smile on his face, which lasted for a minute and then went away when he looked back down at his computer screen and saw that the lesbians were now naked with their big cocks hanging out. He didn’t just get off to lesbians—he got off to a couple of traps.

  He shut down the video and closed his computer. It was just a coincidence. The title of the video didn’t suggest that it was trap porn, and the girls looked convincing. They didn’t look like men. Just another stupid coincidence…

  Kent was happy that it was Monday, a workday. He needed the distraction. He was looking forward to staring at his bland computer screen all day. He knew the office blocked all pornographic websites, so he knew he wouldn’t end up on some weird cross-dressing fetish site.

  He was also happy because there was only one girl on his floor at work, and always dressed in unflattering pantsuits, so he knew he wouldn’t end up ogling her shoes or her outfit or even her hair, seeing as her hair was always a frizzy mess. At work, he was safe from the temptations of feminization, not that he actually thought he was susceptible to the temptations of feminization.

  But whatever was on that tape that he listened to that night—he knew it wasn’t going to hurt him at work. He knew he wouldn’t randomly stumble upon a pair of red lace panties at the office. He knew he wouldn’t get into a deep conversation with any cuties. It was a safe space.

  He even locked his office door and closed his office blinds, so that he wouldn’t invite in any random conversations from co-workers. He was terrified of what he might say t
o someone—what words might end up slipping out from his lips. The last thing he wanted was to tell one of his co-workers that he loved to put on makeup, even though he’d never even held any makeup in his hands before. Or worse—what if he said something sexual to one of his bosses? What if he ended up telling his manager that he wanted to suck his cock?

  He tried not to think about it. He didn’t want to think about what might happen. He just wanted to focus on his work and appreciate the distraction. A few times throughout the day he found himself looking back on every e-mail he sent and every document he wrote up, just to make sure he didn’t slip in any unintentional innuendos. He was terrified he would read an e-mail he sent to his boss and see that he wrote something along the lines of, ‘I’m a naughty girl and I’m hungry for cum.’ Luckily, nothing like that slipped into any of his work.

  A big smile crossed his face when his alarm chirped, letting him know that his workday was done. He packed up his things and avoided human contact on his way down to the bus stop. Now, he was feeling confident that the sissy hypno tapes had failed. He’d conquered them mentally. Ten hours had flown by without any slips or embarrassments.

  The bus pulled up and Kent found himself a nice spot near the back. It was at the next stop when a young blonde woman got on and sat just next to him. She looked over and smiled, making Kent’s heart tingle. “Hey,” he said with a casual nod. He could have gotten into a conversation with her. She seemed like she was hoping for at least a compliment—and she was definitely Kent’s type. She was petite and a bit curvy—not weighing more than one hundred and ten pounds.

  She wore cute little open-toed flats on her feet. But it was the stockings all the way up to her thighs that made Kent’s head spin. He loved stockings on girls, especially when they wore short skirts with them, like the skirt the blonde was wearing now. Kent found himself wondering what wearing a skirt would feel like. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how freeing it would feel, with a tight pair of sexy panties underneath, holding his cock in place. He began to wonder how it would feel to run his fingers up his own smooth legs, and then he began to wonder how cute his cock would look if he shaved all of his pubic hair away.

  When he got home, he ran a hot bath, lathered his body with shaving cream, and he shaved everything except for his eyebrows and the hair on his head. Then he ran his fingers up and down his smooth legs and he let a little whimper slip from his lips. His cock really did look cute, even when it became rock-hard a moment later. He went to the bedroom and retrieved those red panties he stole from Kyle’s house. He slipped them up his legs and he posed in the mirror. The panties couldn’t contain his throbbing erection, so he decided to jerk himself off. While he was pumping his cock, he reached around back and started to press two of his fingers into his asshole. It felt nice, but it wasn’t enough. He needed more. So he went and grabbed a cucumber from his fridge. He spat on the tip of it and then he brought it around back. It was still cold from the fridge, but he knew it wouldn’t be for long. His body was burning hot with beads of sweat forming all over.

  The cucumber went in with a swift push. He slid it in deep and let a long groan out from his lips. He started pounding it up and down, stretching his tight hole wide. But it felt so good, even when there was a little bit of pain. He took his hand off of his cock and started using two hands to thrust the cucumber in and out. And it was only a minute later when his cock was blasting cum up into the air, just from the anal stimulation alone. He squirmed and yelled and smiled and blushed. Then he fell onto his side and began to catch his breath.

  He was facing the mirror. He could see himself slumped on his side, naked, shaved, and panting. And he knew the sight should have filled him with shame, but he couldn’t help but smirk. There was no denying that it felt good. And there was no denying that his body looked good. He really did have the curves of a woman. It was strange that he needed to be hairless to be able to see it.

  But his senses did eventually return to him. He looked down at the mess of cum on the floor and then he quickly got out of those panties. He looked down at his legs and wondered how he was going to explain his hairlessness to girls for the next couple of months while everything grew back. Though that was the least of his problems.

  It was 8:00 PM and Kent hadn’t left the house. He was too afraid to leave the house, afraid to embarrass himself in public. At least when he had the urge to do embarrassing things in his apartment, he was in the safety of his apartment.

  He had the strangest urge to go online and buy himself a skirt and a blouse and maybe some makeup and a pair of heels. But he fought that urge, knowing it was just a consequence of the stupid experimenting he’d been doing—not because of the tapes.

  There was a knock at his door. He answered, and saw his female neighbour standing in his doorway. “What’s up?” he asked, holding his door slightly closed, even though there was nothing to hide in his apartment—at least he didn’t think there was anything to hide. But give his track record over the past few days, he couldn’t be sure that there wasn’t some embarrassing pair of panties dangling in his hallway—maybe something he put there during one of his weird blackouts. He looked back quickly and saw that the hallway was clear, but he still held that door mostly shut.

  “My sink isn’t working,” she said.

  Kent laughed. “Your husband is a plumber, isn’t he?”

  “He’s out of town for his aunt’s funeral. I don’t know how to fix the sink.”

  “What’s wrong with it?” Kent asked.

  “I have no idea. Mike usually fixes that stuff.”

  “I guess I can take a look.” So Kent grabbed his toolbox and he went over to his neighbour’s apartment.

  “Sorry it’s such a mess. I haven’t had a chance to clean up,” she said. But it wasn’t really a mess. There were a few dishes on the counter and a couple of laundry bins in the middle of the kitchen, next to the washing machine, which also appeared to be broken.

  “Does anything here work?” Kent asked.

  “The fridge works.”

  Kent got down and checked the pipes. They seemed fine, but there was a wet spot on the wall behind the pipes. Kent followed that wet spot down the kitchen cupboards, to the access panel next to the fridge. He popped it off and saw that water was leaking out from a pipe. It was probably much, much worse in the apartment below—and it was probably something that her husband could do a better job of fixing, or even the building manager, but her husband was gone and the building manager was off for the night. So Kent figured he would give it a shot.

  He turned off her water and then he reached into the wall to try to reconnect the disconnected pipe. It was stiff, as if it had been disconnected for a few days. He gave it a hard tug and then managed to get it back lined up. Screwing the pipes together was difficult at his angle, but he managed to do it. Then he turned the water back on and said, “Do you want to try the sink now?”

  But she didn’t reply.

  “Hello? You there?” Kent asked.

  “Sorry! I’m just getting changed! I’ll be out in a minute!” she called out from behind her closed bedroom door.

  So Kent pulled himself out from under the sink and he gave the tap a try himself. It worked. He opened up his toolbox and went to toss his wrench in, and then he noticed a black skirt sitting at the top of his neighbour’s laundry bin. He stared at it for a moment before snatching it and shoving it into his toolbox. Then he saw the white stockings and his eyes lit up. He loved stockings. If he was going to try on a skirt, why not try on a cute pair of stockings as well? He stuffed the stockings into his box, and then he grabbed the long-sleeved crop-top that he knew would be the perfect match for the outfit, so he grabbed that as well. He closed his toolbox and then his neighbour appeared. “Is it all working?” she asked.

  Kent nodded his head quickly. “It should be good—at least for now. Your husband will probably want to take a look at it when he’s back though. If you have any other issues, feel free to let me k
now!” He quickly scuttled to the door.

  “Okay, thank you!” said the pretty neighbour. And it wasn’t until Kent was on his way out the door that he realized she’d gone and put on some skimpy nightwear—bordering on lingerie. Did she put it on for him? Was she hoping to cheat on her husband while he was at his aunt’s funeral? Kent paused, but then he decided to continue his escape. He’d slept with married women before—he never felt good about it, even though he knew he wasn’t the one to blame. In that moment, he would much rather hide in his apartment and try on that little outfit.

  So that’s exactly what he did. He got undressed and then he put on his red panties, the white black skirt, the black stockings, and the black crop top. He ran to the mirror to see how he looked, and then he watched his face light up. The clothes fit perfectly and shaped his body in a flattering way.

  Kent liked the way he looked—until that dread found its way back into his gut. He watched as his face turned white. He was currently standing in front of the mirror wearing a skirt and a crop-top and stockings. His legs and crotch and chest and armpits were shaved smooth, and this was now the third time he’d put on those red lacy panties. Or was it the fourth time? He’d lost track.

  Maybe he shouldn’t download that fourth recording. Maybe he was better off stopping his feminization journey. He shouldn’t have ever started it in the first place. It wasn’t some masculinity challenge, it was just mental warfare. He’d voluntarily signed himself up to be a lab rat. Why did he have to prove anything to anyone, or even to himself? Why couldn’t he just be happy the way he was, without subjecting himself to mind-altering tests?

  But he was already halfway. He couldn’t just stop now. If he stopped, that meant his worst fears were true: he wasn’t manly enough to survive some silly tapes. If he stopped the tapes now, then he was probably no better than those weirdoes at the diner, wearing their skimpy outfits and pretending to be women. That wouldn’t happen to Kent. Sure, there had been a few little side effects from the sissy hypno tapes, but he wasn’t going to turn into a full-blown sissy. He wasn’t even going to turn into a casual or occasional cross-dresser. He just needed to power through the rest of the week.