Date: Tue, 9 Dec 2008 09:37:50 -0800 (PST)
From: Fred Gingerman <gingerfred2005@yahoo.com>
Subject: Alternative Education -- transgender

Alternative Education
by Gingerfred Man

   Chapter One -- Johnson, Johnson's Johnson, Johnson Junior

   Mark Johnson, PhD, lay naked on his bed. His chest was heaving as the
result of a stupefying orgasm that had spewed a large amount of hot sperm
in a semen sauce along the length of his flat belly and hairy, buff
chest. His considerable cock was softening as the exhausted educator
considered the fact that he had cum three times in the past 45 minutes.

   The cause of his sexual agony was gripped tightly in his left hand. A
long, cum-stained printout of an email from his son, Josh, a student at the
Lovejoy Institute in Pink Beach, Florida.

   Mark loved his only child very much. And 18-year-old Josh loved his
father. The loss of Josh's mother to disease when Josh was only five had
bonded father and son tightly. That was why the separation and transition
had been so difficult for them both.

   But it was for the best.

   Mark Johnson was an internationally known authority on
educational-testing methodology and the interpretation of the results. When
the results of his testing of Josh had been so clear cut, to deny the
action he knew he must take for Josh would be a betrayal of his life's
work.

   Still, Josh had been so sad when his father told him what the tests
clearly indicated what Josh must do. He cried. And so did Mark. Josh denied
the results, but they both knew they were accurate. Josh was frightened
that he wouldn't fit in at Lovejoy Institute. But his father knew he would.

   Mark's balls ached, but he had to read the letter again.

   It began:

   Dear Daddy,

   Oh, Daddy, I love you so much! What a wonderful, wise man you are to
send me to this place where I can learn the way I need to learn, be who I
am, and live as I need to live.

   You know what I was afraid of, Daddy, but I'm not afraid of that
anymore. Now that I've met Brett. <Blush>

   I felt abandoned when you put me on the plane to Pink Beach. You know
high school was rough for me, but I thought college would be better. I had
no idea how wonderful college could be!

   There was a van for me at the airport, just as you said, Daddy, and
there were three other "boys" like me catching rides. You know I'm a little
shy, but the boys were sweet and friendly and it was a short drive to
Lovejoy Institute.

   What a beautiful campus! A real quad. And ivy. Things you wouldn't
expect in Florida. But the school is very heavily endowed (just like the
men who contribute to the institution, Daddy -- LOL).

   We were taken for a nice, light lunch of salads, where I got to meet
some of the other "boys like me." There are 16 of us in this year's class.

   After lunch, they brought in a bunch of ladies who stripped us to our
boxer shorts and measured us for our "real clothes." (Oh, Daddy, the
clothes!) Then the ladies gave us manicures and pedicures and painted our
finger- and toenails red or hot pink. I would have been embarrassed, but
the other "boys" were being girlied up too. We smiled shyly at each other
and giggled as the ladies pierced our ears for earrings and showed us how
to put on lipstick, just lipstick. I guess we all looked silly standing
there in just our boxer shorts with girlish fingernails, toenails, ears and
lips, but it was very exciting Daddy. I saw quite a few hard bulges around
the room as we walked into the Grand Hall to meet Dr. Lovejoy.

   Oh, Daddy! Dr. Lovejoy is incredible! So smart and powerful and strong
and handsome. A real "alpha-male," like you, Daddy. And he made us feel
really welcome. A lot of the stuff he talked about was the same as what you
told me -- we had been selected from all over the country because we had
scored the very highest on the Gingerman Test. That meant we were the most
feminine boys in our age group in the whole United States. Another group of
boys our age was being in-processed separately. They scored the lowest on
the Gingerman Test, which meant they were the most masculine boys in the
country. We were the sissies or pantyboys and they were the alpha males. An
alpha male needed a sexual partner who was much more feminine than any
woman could ever be. An alpha male needed a pantyboy. And a pantyboy needed
an alpha. For years, alphas and pantyboys were denied true, sexual union
during the height of their sexuality -- the college years. But Dr. Lovejoy
 had recognized the problem and done something about it. At the Lovejoy
Institute, alphas and pantyboys got a superior college education and were
able to realize their full sexual potential as they learned.

   Then Dr. Lovejoy told us to take our boy boxers off and put them in a
pile at the front of the room. Some of the "pantyboys" jumped right up and
did so. I was nervous about being naked in front of them and <gasp>
Dr. Lovejoy, but I knew it was the right thing to do. You raised me right,
Daddy.

   It was a strange but lovely scene, looking at the other 15 pretty,
feminine, naked boys. Most of us were covering ourselves a little, but
there were things we already had in common. We were all slim, with good
complexions and not much muscle tone. We were already girlish in our
movements. And <blush> we all had pretty little bottoms, plump, but not
fat. And little peenies.

   I'm going to tell you all the details, Daddy, because Dr. Lovejoy says
honesty is the only way for a pantyboy to get through life. I was stiff,
looking at all those pretty boys, Daddy. They excited me. In a funny
way. But more about that later.

   Dr. Lovejoy then had us line up and he came down the row of naked (and
all erect) pantyboys. He introduced himself to each of us and gave us each
our girl's name (mine's Paris. Like it? I do.) Then he took each of us into
his strong, manly arms and gave us a deep kiss. With tongue! That was
weird! Especially since some of my classmates started spurting their sissy
cream, just from that kiss! Dr. Lovejoy seemed very pleased when that
happened. I didn't "spurt," but I could have. It was a great kiss and, as
you know, my first from anyone. I was a little worried about "that issue we
discussed," but I was getting less worried.

   Anyway, when he was finished, he said that we would be getting our
girlie clothes in a few hours. Meanwhile, we could go have some fun at the
Institute pool, just outside the Great Hall.

   My classmates and I felt a little funny going out to swim naked, but
Dr. Lovejoy said no outsiders would see us.

   Hmmm. Anyway, we went out and the pool was wonderful! We were the only
ones there, so we got into the spirit of things and took a dip. After a
half hour or so, I had just gotten out when I heard lots of girlie
squealing. Sixteen of the hunkiest boys in the world had just entered the
pool area. They weren't naked, but it was close. They were wearing
something called the "alpha pouch," which, with sandals, is what the alpha
males wear at our school most of the time. It encases the penis and
testicles in a thin, revealing pouch and covers nothing else. It's
connected to the waist with thin strings and is almost dirtier than being
naked.

   I sensed something important was about to happen. The apparent leader of
the alphas (my Brett!!!) called for order and submissively, the sissies
stopped squealing, but we continued to cover our nipples and our privates
with our hands and arms. Brett said, "Welcome, Ladies. It's great to see
you all here. You're going to love this school and the school will love
you. A selected group of alpha seniors and juniors will welcome you
freshman creampuffs today. So please, don't be afraid."

   The pantyboys calmed a little and I got a good look at Brett and his 15
companions. Tan and buff. Heartbeakingly handsome. Big bulges in the alpha
pouches. Very self-assured.

   Then Brett made a beeline for me! As he got closer, I noticed that he
had some bruises on his face and that he had something in his left hand. He
was saying something: "...must be Paris. You're even lovelier than your
pictures. I'm Brett. I'm a senior here and I know what sunburn can do to
skin as beautiful as yours, may I put some lotion on you?"

   Oh, Daddy! Oh. It was a bottle of tanning lotion he had in his left
hand. I guess all the pantyboys were being invited by their men to take
lotion, but I could only see Brett.

   Somehow, I managed to nod yes.

   "Please turn around, Sweetheart."

   If I turned around he would see my bare bottom! I was so shy and so
embarrassed at my nakedness. But he was so manly and handsome that I had to
obey him.

   Submissively, I turned. At least Brett wouldn't see how my nipples had
erected at the sight of him. Not to mention the great distress my
underused-to-that-point-in-my-life peeny was in -- throbbing and quivering
and engorging with hot blood.

   He stood behind me, rubbed some suntan lotion on his hands and began to
massage my shoulders with his strong hands.

   Oh, Daddy. It was the greatest moment of my life.

   Then it got better.

   Brett slid his hands down my sides and began to massage my hips. He took
a step closer to me and said, "Your body is a feminine masterpiece. You're
the prettiest girl we've ever had at Lovejoy Institute."

   Oh, who cares if it's true? It's exactly what every pantyboy wants to
hear. I was melting.

   Then Brett grew bolder. Still standing behind me, he reached around and
began to massage both of my distressed nipples with his oiled fingers. I
whimpered loudly, then moaned. The naughty boy began to kiss my neck as he
moved even closer. So close, that I felt his cock in the small of my
back. It was hot and hard. And VERY big!

   What happened next was inevitable. As Brett rubbed his pouched cock
against me, kissed my ear and tormented my left nipple with his left hand,
he gently, tenderly cupped my "little pink bag" with the fingers of his
right hand. Stirring my pearls. Whispering how beautiful I was as he kissed
my neck and ears.

   Daddy, I'm only human. I screamed. It was <blush> embarrassing, but I
was helpless in his strong-but-gentle embrace. My poor little bag exploded,
and I began to spurt out my wet, sissy cream in thick, hot ropes of
ecstasy. Brett held my scorched scrotum in his gentle fingers and milked
out every drop of my juices until I was spent.

   Then he turned me around and, still standing, kissed me deeply for so
long that I lost all sense of time. So long that I was stiff and needy
again.

   I had never made cummies with another person, Daddy. And I had never
kissed with tongue like that (except for Dr. Lovejoy). And I also hadn't
sobbed like I began to when he broke that kiss.

   Brett was genuinely concerned about my tears. "What's wrong, Paris?
Please tell me," the wonderful, 21-year-old man said.

   "Oh, Brett," I bawled. "It's true. It's what I've feared all my life and
it's true."

   "What's true, Darling?" he asked.

   I sobbed. "I'm homosexual!!!" Then I went into convulsions of tears.

   Brett threw his full energy into comforting me. When I was able to
listen, he said, "Paris, 'homosexual' means you're attracted to the same
sex. Is there anything the same about you and me?"

   My eyes got wide and my brain was engaged. Brett was right. I was more
feminine than any female on earth. Whom else should I consort with than the
manliest men? I was the most hetero of heterosexuals.

   And it was time to enjoy it.

   I stopped blubbering and Brett began to kiss away my tears. My little
knoblet was all needy again and I was hoping Brett would suggest something
really naughty.

   He did.

   "Come with me to my room, Lover," Brett said. "And we'll spend an
afternoon and night in paradise."

   Well, Daddy, that almost squeezed my gumdrops dry right there. I looked
down shyly, the way men like, cause they don't want girls to be too
trampy. Then I said in a little voice, "OK."

   That spurred my man on and I thought he was going to do something very
carnal there, right in front of my 15 classmates and their men. But for the
first time, I noticed that they were all gone! They certainly hadn't played
hard-to-get! They were probably already "deeply" engaged with their new
friends.

   I took Brett's hand, then I kissed a bruise on his delicious face. "How
did you get that?" I asked.

   Brett gave the million-dollar answer. "Two of the other alphas said they
wanted to be the first to meet you. I insisted that I be first."

   Men fighting over me!?!?!

   I almost fainted with lust and my desire to satisfy the winner's
naughtiest needs. It was almost as if they were cavemen or something. And I
was the prize!

   Brett led me to the dorm area, where every student has a private,
hotel-style room. With king-sized bed. Private bath with double-wide shower
and sunken tub.

   Brett's room was clean, but the smell of dried cum was in the air. I had
to imagine that Brett had gently coaxed the cream from the pink bags of
legions of sissies before me, right in that room, on that bed.

   I didn't care. He was mine at that moment and he had fought over me!

   I waited for instructions from my heroic man. He had them.

   "Let's take a shower, Paris. It was so sweaty out there, all that suntan
lotion, and you were in that chlorine in the pool."

   Did he say let's? As in together?

   He did.

   Being jaybird-naked, I didn't need to disrobe. But Brett did and it was
spectacular.

   Brett reached behind his back and untied the knot that held his alpha
thong. The whole, filmy thing came off and I saw what I had only imagined
in my most unguarded moments. The Golden Fleece. The Promised Land.

   A handsome, hunky, kind, sweet, loving man's enormous, veined, thick,
engorged, hard, hot, uncircumsized, throbbing cock.

   And it was all for me.

   I couldn't wait for the shower. I fell on my knees right there at the
bathroom door. For an instant, I thought Brett would insist on his agenda,
but the man is no fool.

   I cupped his thick, hairy, full ballbag in my left hand as I felt his
cock from stem to stern with my right.

   It was so much fun being heterosexual!

   My guess is that Brett has "had" a few dozen sissies in his sex-glutted
life. But he seemed to be completely focused on the little creampuff who
was about to devour her first cock. His grunts and moans definitely made a
girl feel special. <giggle>

   I settled my bottom on my haunches and set to work on that delicious
slab of meat. My own "little person" was standing chubbily as I hesitantly
skinned his thick "hood," then kissed the slick arrowpoint of Brett's "pink
helmet." Brett shuddered with lust as I began to lick up his steadily
flowing juices. I felt so submissive there -- on my knees and servicing
that magnificent man with my hot, wet tongue. He was so sweet and
appreciative that I would have gone on licking him and cuddling his balls
all day.

   But things don't happen that way. I had that poor man in quite a sexual
dither. I think his heart rate went up 40 beats or so and his face was all
scrunched up. As if he were in some sort of distress.

   Then he made the cutest groan and started pumping big, thick cords of
the thickest, hottest, creamiest cum on earth. My goodness, it almost
burned my face. It filled my poor little mouth and I had to swallow the
delicious cream to avoid choking. It was so sticky that my eyes were almost
welded shut when the seventh and last glob was joyously launched.

   It was so emasculating, Daddy. I was on my knees in front of a man whose
cock I had just licked to a spectacular orgasm. My face was frosted with
his goo and I had swallowed two or three thick globs of the manly juice. I
could never be a real man after that, Daddy. My maleness, what there was of
it, had left town.

   I was so proud!

   Brett was enchanted with me. He told me so. As he was kissing my cummy
face and licking my girlish tongue.

   See, Daddy, I made a nice new friend my first day at college.

   I was squealing and giggling as Brett dragged me into the warm shower,
then kissed me all over as he washed me with a warm cloth. Just to be sure
I was extra clean, he even washed my toes and between my bottom cheeks
<blush>.

   Brett even washed my cum-drenched hair. He wouldn't let me wash him. He
just told me to stand there so he could look at me as he was washing
himself. He said I was the most beautiful sight of his life and that
looking at me alone would produce something we would both like -- his next
big boner. He was right. It got stiff and big. And I liked it a lot.

   When we got out of the shower, he dried me off as if I were the most
precious, delicate flower. Daddy, I was half in love with him already,
after two hours.

   Brett cupped my freshly scrubbed-and-dried bottom with his big hand,
leading me to his king-sized bed.

   I was a little worried about what might happen to my bottom. But eager,
nevertheless.

   Brett stopped at his dresser and extracted something pink. My man held
it against me and said, "I got this for you. I think it'll make you feel
nice and girly as we...uh...get into bed."

   It was the prettiest babydoll nightie, Daddy. Pink, with a lacy, white
trim. And tiny red hearts. Brett slipped it over my head and he was right
again. I felt extra girlie in it -- my first nightie. It was so <blush>
short that my "girlish excitement" was completely exposed. Just the way
Brett and I wanted it. The friction of the silky material on my tender
nipples had me extra-aroused. Oh, I love being feminine!

   Brett lay on his back, his head on the pillow, and beckoned for me to
join him. I got on top of him and melted into his embrace.

   Oh, Daddy.

   He rubbed his big cock against my doodle as we kissed. He was such a
gentle lover, with very active hands. Brett especially liked my bottom,
which he cupped in both his hands, controlling me in his grasp, rubbing my
stiffie against his monster as he kissed me.

   I was on a new planet, Daddy. Pleasurus. The planet all sissies hope to
visit. His kisses were heavenly and I adored the way I seemed to excite
him. I know he wasn't faking excitement because his penis exploded first,
Daddy. A lot. All over my privates. His eyes were rolling back in his head,
he was so turned on! I counted six, strong spurts and let me tell you, I
was soaked. In the best possible way.

   Full of surprises, Brett drew me up to straddle his shoulders. He asked
me to lift my nightie and then "feed me your little tinkler, Sweetheart."

   Oh, I was embarrassed because I was so wet "down there" with Brett's
cum. But he certainly didn't mind. In fact, Brett first set about to
"spruce me up" in my pubic region. He licked off all the sex juices from my
thighs, tummy, and "pink bag." Then, Daddy, Brett took my little point into
his mouth and showed me how it's done.

   All real men love to suck their sissies' doodles, Daddy. And from what
I've learned, they're darned good at it. I was only able to lick the
perimeter of Brett's big "business," but Brett had my whole set of pink
parts in his mouth. I looked down at a beautiful sight, Brett was rolling
his tongue around and around my little, pink knoblet, then kissing my
little peanuts with his wet, skilled lips.

   Oh, Daddy. What a college education I was getting. I was squirming and
gasping, with some sissyish whimpers thrown in for good measure. He was
trying very hard to make me happy and he was succeeding. I didn't know
anything could feel that good. Brett happened to be sucking my nuts at the
exact moment of my near-death-experience explosion, so he got four thick
wads of my sissy juices full in the face. I was afraid that I had committed
a faux pas, but no. He loved it. He was smiling and happy when I leaned
over to kiss him and to lick his beautiful face clean. One hot thing led to
another, hotter thing and, before we knew it, I was on top of him,
reversed, sucking his cock as he, and I'm not making this up, Daddy, had
his tongue in my bottom! In my bottom! His tongue!

   What a great idea. The tongue feels wonderful there and the whole thing
was so awfully "dirty." The tongue in my bottom told me too that my
"boyfriend" was pretty darned smitten by me. You don't just stick your
tongue in everyone's bottom hole, no sir. That's reserved for special
people in your life.

   I enjoyed Brett eating my "pussy" so much that I stopped sucking his
lovely cock. The naughty man made me squeal like a little girl being chased
by a boy on the playground. Again, I lost my sticky mess, this time all
over my new best friend's hairy chest.

   Daddy, I guess you know what happened next. <blush> I was all wet and
soppy "back there" and suddenly I felt that maybe I could accommodate a
nice, big "visitor." I know you told me that the men here would want to
stick their things into me and, you remember how horrified I acted. Well, I
wasn't terribly horrified. I was excited too. Frightened about the pain and
more frightened about the homo-ness of it all. But really excited too. And
I was practically hyperventilating when Brett flipped me over onto my
stomach and slipped those three pillows under my hips.

   I guess my bottom was a nice, plump target for his "sticker," which was
iron-hard again and so thick and long that I thought the Lovejoy Institute
would be shipping my body home to you in two boxes. But Brett was (and is)
sweet and gentle, the way truly "real men" are. He showered my pink bottom
with soft kisses, telling me how beautiful my derriere was. He also said
that my anus was the prettiest one he had ever seen -- completely pink,
without even a hint of brown. <blush> Well, talk like that can really turn
a girl's head, Daddy, but I was still sort of crying and trembling a bit,
so Brett said, "We don't have to do this if you don't want, Darling."

   But, Daddy, I wanted to. And I told him so. "Don't you dare stop now,
Brett," I said. "I'm afraid, but I'm ready."

   Brett smiled. Then he got on his knees, in position behind me. He placed
the wet tip of his penis right on my anus and teased me with it, rubbing it
around and pushing slightly. I groaned and said, "Please put it in
me. Now."

   That was enough of a mandate from Brett. "Try to relax, Sweetheart," he
said.

   I did, just a little, letting my breath out. And at that moment, he
pushed. In. The big, wet, slippery head.

   I was being fucked by a man. Emasculated forever. In total surrender to
his passion.

   It was wonderful, Daddy. Wonderful.

   Brett sort of wiggled his way into me. I think he's been in a few sissy
bottoms before. And it hardly hurt at all. After a minute, I felt only
gut-wrenching pleasure. And a strong urge to poop. But that passed.

   Brett picked up a rhythm. In and out of me. Fucking me. Telling me how I
was the best he had ever had. "You're a perfect angel," he said. "Built for
a man's love."

   He really knew what to say to a girl.

   I was sort of wiggling my bottom and pushing back to get every
centimeter of his big boy. He liked that. Then the point arrived when he
began to concentrate on his own orgasm. He stopped talking and got down to
some serious fucking. My little tinkler was rubbing on those pillows and
the cock in my bottom was making my own situation quite desperate. My
nutsies were sending out distress signals. I gasped and thought I would
cum, but no! The cock in my ass had blocked something and I
couldn't...oh. That did it. I came late, but came very hard, with much of
what I felt centered in my bowels. My body erupted, from my nipples to my
toes. And that was the little extra that drove my man over the cliff. He
began to pump the first creamy load I had ever taken into my bottom. It
gushed out of him. He was wincing in ecstasy. Even he, the veteran, was
surprised at the intensity of his pleasure.

   And we were only on our first date.

   Oh, Daddy. Brett and I are more than "an item" now. He squires me around
school as if I'm his "possession." We're together all the time, except for
classes, two-hour, daily study time, and the two hours each day when the
alpha males are playing rough sports and we girls are doing "maintenance,"
looking for clothes, gossiping and comparing boyfriends. And of course, we
spend every night together. Every lovely night.

   The other girls tell me I need to sample some of the other men. And I
know nothing lasts forever, especially in a sexually charged atmosphere
like Lovejoy Institute. But I'm enjoying being the "best girl" for the
alpha of all the alphas.

   Oh. And so far, after two weeks, I really like the classes. They seem
determined to give us an outstanding, liberal-arts education. You know;
make us people who can read, write, speak, add, investigate and think. It's
difficult to keep your mind on class when there's an incredibly sexy,
overheated man sitting in front of you, wearing only a thong around his
huge penis. I'm sure it's just as difficult for the men. We pantyboys all
dress to thrill. Stockings and big stiletto heels. Bustiers, teddies and
babydolls. Bras, camisoles and corsets. Lots of make-up. And panties,
panties, panties! Some of the girls wear the kind of panties that you can
see right through, so their mini-peenies are exposed to the men and the
other pantyboys. And the faculty.

   That's an important fact, Daddy. Our freshman class has 16 "girls" and
only ten men. The other three classes are similar. Dr. Lovejoy did that on
purpose for two reasons. One, he knew that pantyboys didn't just "like" and
need men. They "like" and need each other. So if the forty men are matched
up with forty panty princesses, that leaves 24 pantied cuties free for
girl-girl fun, naughty threesomes with a man-pantyboy couple (rarer than
you think) or the third option, which is the second reason for the numbers
as they are. The faculty needs love too. Lots of it. Beginning with
Dr. Lovejoy, whom a lot of the students call Dr. Love-BOY. Dr. Lovejoy has
been getting more than his recommended daily allowance of pantyboy pussy
for a number of years. And the girls love him. He's very alpha, they say,
and a great lover. Not as much stamina as one of our 18-22-year-old
studmuffins. But the wisdom, wile and technique of age. The same goes for
the hunky,
 alpha-tested-and-bonded faculty.

   This place is heaven on earth for a pantyboy.

   Or an alpha male.

   Which brings me to my good news. By now, you should have received an
invitation from Dr. Lovejoy to attend "Fathers' weekend." Only the dads who
test high enough as alphas (you scored off the charts!) are invited and no
dad has ever turned the invitation down. It's three days of orientation and
a chance to spend hours and hours -- quality time -- with their pantied
sons' friends. Let me spell it out, Daddy. It's a big sex party for the
dads. And a big spark to alumni giving. Please come!

   I've been telling my friend Carly about you. She's mega-cute, Daddy, and
since she saw your picture and your alpha-test results, you're all she can
think about. I've enclosed several pictures of her. And <blush> I've also
enclosed a pic of Brett and one of me as a pantyboy -- you've never seen me
like this. I'm pretty!

   That's all for now Daddy. I'll see you in about ten days. I love you.

   Your pantied son,

   Paris

   Poor Mark had cum again. He had never been so excited about anything in
his life. He was looking at Carly's pictures and, impossible as it was, he
felt his balls stirring and significant activity in his cock-stiffening
apparatus.

   Carly was spectacular. Slim and feminine, with a tiny set of male
privates. A masterpiece of a face, carefully tended to. Killer legs encased
in silky, black, fully-fashioned stockings. Her three, erect inches were
facing the camera. She was smiling gorgeously, though her face was drenched
with must have been the cum of a 12-foot-tall man with ten-inch-diameter
balls.

   Oh, please no. It would be too painful. Oh. He was cumming again. His
back arched and his guts exploded, though only watery juices dribbled from
his considerable equipment.

   The 18-wheeler hit him, then backed up to ensure his complete demise.

   When he recovered, he dared to look at the individual pictures of Paris
and Brett.

   Thank goodness Paris hadn't sent him a picture of herself as racy as
what Carly had sent along. Though Paris was in a very small black nightie,
stockings and what must have been five-inch stilettos. Her face and manner
were completely feminine and he could see why men would do anything for her
favors. Anything. Mark put that picture down before he harmed his
constitution and what remained of his morality.

   Then he looked at the picture of Brett. Naked. Standing tall. And
erect. Fully erect. Very handsome and manly. It was no wonder that Paris
had fallen in love with... Oh no. Was his johnson stirring again?

   Time to put those things away and fall asleep.



   Chapter Two -- Lovejoy loves boys

   It was eight p.m. on a Wednesday and Michael Lovejoy was enjoying his
evening. In fact, Michael Lovejoy enjoyed every evening, but he was having
a particularly fine tete-a-tete with Dana, a delicious senior at Lovejoy
Institute and one of Lovejoy's favorite companions.

   Actually "partner" may be a better word, since it seems to match with
"sex," which is the activity in which they were heavily and delightedly
engaged.

   Lovejoy was naked, lying on his left side. Lying on her right side, Dana
was wearing only tan, fully-fashioned stockings and a pretty, white garter
belt. Her face was cosmetic perfection that enhanced her total, natural
beauty in a stunning manner. Her D-cup titties were thrust forward, toward
Lovejoy's eager mouth, which was sucking and licking each huge, brown
nipple in turn.

   Dana's cock was small, but very erect and her "pink purse" of testicles
was dangling sweetly and temptingly.

   Except for her incongruous "male privates," Dana's body was fully
feminine, with narrow waist, swelled hips and the finest breasts Lovejoy
had seen on anyone. She even had a "French manicure," which gave her talons
that a pornstar would be proud of.

   Such augmentations were voluntary for his student princesses. Lovejoy
left it up to the pantyboys, of course. Just as he left everything up to
them. They all had choices to make, with attendant consequences. They could
choose Dana's path, becoming complete she-males through hormones, implants
and other surgeries. Or they could choose to remain just pretty boys. Most
chose the latter.

   Lovejoy had enjoyed a spectacular night 24 hours earlier with Julie, a
sophomore without enhancement who, nevertheless, was one of the most
feminine XY-chromosomed people he had ever made love to. And he had made
love to hundreds. Julie was slim and sexy, with a warm, wet mouth and a
tight, hospitable "pussy." And she did feminine wonders with her attitude
and accessories.

   But why compare, he thought. Any night in bed with a pretty pantyboy was
a good night. So every night for Lovejoy was good.

   Lovejoy was secure in the knowledge that he would be giving Dana a good,
hard fucking. Probably several. There was no rush. So he made sure they
both enjoyed the journey as well as the destination.

   Dana certainly enjoyed having her titties worshiped. But they both
enjoyed kissing more. Lying in bed. Kissing. Rubbing cocks. Dana rubbing
her erect nipples against Lovejoy's hairy chest. Frequent lovers, they
enjoyed that very much. So that was what they did.

   Dana still showed great wonder whenever she touched Lovejoy's cock. He
liked when pantyboys gasped at its length, thickness and rigidity. It was
the biggest cock any of them had ever seen or even heard of. And that made
Lovejoy proud. It also sort of set his life path. That and his long-time
affection for pretty boys in dresses.

   The most alpha of alpha males, Lovejoy found the niche many such teenage
boys find -- he was a bully. Through elementary school and the first two
years of high school. He wasn't particularly violent with the boys he
picked on. But they wouldn't be inviting Michael Lovejoy to their weddings,
bar mitzvahs or birthday parties either.

   Lovejoy's widowed mom doted on him. And his late father had left Michael
and his mother well off. So 16-year-old Michael had few worries when he
began his junior year in high school. Except for the fact that he had no
friends, since potential pals were afraid of him. Then there was that other
issue.

   The other problem was that he was a virgin. Hadn't even been kissed. Not
from lack of opportunity. The girls adored a rough, big-bulged, potential
felon like Michael Lovejoy. But Michael didn't like them. That's not
entirely true. He liked a part of them. The feminine part. Michael Lovejoy
wasn't gay. The simple truth was that he didn't think that girls were
feminine enough for him. He knew what he wanted, but he couldn't articulate
it. He knew that to reach his goal, he would need to change his strategy
for dealing with his environment.

   The first day of high school that junior year, Michael came upon three
of his former bully associates beating up on a frequent target, their
classmate Jerry Blanchard. The thugs were quite surprised when Michael
turned on them, chasing them away from the hapless lad.

   Jerry was amazed. And more frightened than he would have been had
Michael not intervened.

   "Are you all right?" Michael asked the slight, whimpering victim of bad
boys' torment.

   Jerry nodded. What was happening? Michael was known to be the school's
number one bully.

   "Good," Michael said. "They won't bother you again." And he left a
stunned Jerry alone.

   Jerry didn't see Michael again until three days later. True to Michael's
word, the three bruisers and all the other bullies in school had left Jerry
alone. It was an amazing, glorious development, the first of many for
Jerry.

   Jerry just had to rush up and thank Michael when he saw him between
third and fourth periods. Michael responded in an unexpected way.

   "You're welcome," Michael said.

   Jerry screwed up his courage and asked. "Why did you do it?"

   Michael smiled. It was a dazzling smile. Jerry's stomach flipped when he
saw that smile. "You didn't deserve that," Michael said. "I needed to grow
up to understand that, but I'm happy I did."

   Jerry could only stare, open-mouthed

   Then Michael added, "That's a nice shirt. You should wear blue more
often." And he departed.

   Jerry's ears were warm. He was puzzled beyond belief. For the next few
days, he wore blue. It paid off.

   Jerry ran into Michael at church that Sunday. Both were with their
parents, but Michael excused himself from his mom and joined Jerry and his
parents. Dazzled by the attention from one of the coolest guys at school,
Jerry introduced Michael to his parents. Michael was charming and
respectful to the parents and, what would be a good word, "attentive" to
Jerry.

   Over the next weeks, Jerry and Michael became friends. Publicly. Which
raised Jerry's status in school and permanently destroyed Michael's status
as a cool guy.

   Neither cared. Jerry, as it turned out, wasn't as nerdy as popularly
believed and Michael was not as cool.

   They enjoyed each other's company a lot. Just hanging out. Playing video
games. Movies. Even though the rumor at school was that they were gay. It
wasn't true and they didn't care anyway.

   Things had plateaued for them after six weeks and that was OK. Wasn't
it?

   Then there was the sleepover. At Michael's house.

   Michael's mom made the boys a great dinner. Then they watched a
video. Mrs. Lovejoy was delighted that Michael had made a nice friend,
albeit he was only 5'4", 100 pounds and looked as if he would blow away in
a strong wind.

   When the boys said goodnight, Mrs. Lovejoy wondered briefly about
whether they would both sleep in Michael's double bed. No big deal either
way, she thought.

   Michael thought otherwise. The boys were in Michael's room. Jerry had
taken out his pajamas and was trying to decide if he should change in front
of Michael or go into the bathroom. Michael sort of decided that by
stripping to the waist right there, unashamedly, in front of Jerry.

   Michael's naked body reminded Jerry of Superman's physique in those
comics he used to read. Oh. It reminded Jerry that Michael was so manly and
Jerry...Jerry wasn't.

   Now Jerry was embarrassed and knew he would have to change in the
bathroom. Especially since, for some reason, Jerry's tiny cock was
threatening to rip his pants.

   But then, for the second time in six weeks, things changed radically.

   Michael saw Jerry moving toward the door and said, "Wait a minute,
Jerry. Those pajamas are so nerdy." Not a putdown. Smiling when he said it.

   Jerry smiled back. "They're all I have with me. What should I wear?"

   The moment arrived.

   Michael looked at Jerry, took a deep breath, opened his dresser drawer
and pulled out something blue and lacy. A lovely nightie. And a pair of
matching panties. He extended them, offering them to Jerry.

   Jerry gasped.

   Was this a joke?

   Was Michael being cruel?

   Jerry looked in Michael's eyes. Jerry saw only sincerity. And need.

   Jerry trembled. Then he said, "Are you serious? Tell me now."

   Michael's throat was dry. "I'm serious," he said. And Jerry believed
him. Trusted him. Surrendered to him.

   Jerry reached out and took the nightie and panties.

   What did it all mean? What would happen if Jerry put the girlie things
on? He was scared to see what would happen. But more scared about what he
would be missing if he didn't.

   Again Michael took the initiative. He removed his trousers, underpants,
shoes and socks, then sat on the side of his bed to watch Jerry undress,
then transform.

   Jerry shuddered when he saw Michael's huge, erect cock and massive
balls. Was such manly beauty possible? What did Michael want from him? Did
he want...?

   Jerry took a deep breath and began to undress. It was difficult to
believe that Jerry and Michael were of the same gender. In the most
important ways, they were of totally different genders.

   Michael was delighted with the show. And the prospect of what could
follow. He knew he was jeopardizing his relationship with Jerry. He also
knew that Jerry could tell everyone in school that Michael was gay, which
Michael knew wasn't true. Michael was 75% sure that Jerry would react in
the way that would be best for both of them.

   Jerry proved him right. Jerry disrobed, displaying his slight, girlish
body to Michael for the first time. Michael's thick cock twitched. Jerry
was delicious. Alabaster skin. Flawless lines of hip and leg. Pretty, slim
feet. Erect, pointed nipples. And an equally erect, though miniscule penis
and tiny, pink bag of pearls.

   Being naked in front of Michael was bad enough. But putting on those
girlie things... And the way Michael looked at him. As if Michael were
starving and Jerry was a feast.

   Jerry locked eyes with Michael and said one word: "Why?"

   Michael smiled and said, "You know why."

   It was true. Jerry knew.

   He put the panties on first, his whole body blushing. Oh, the panties
felt wonderful! He gasped when he settled his privates into the silky
treasures, his delicate testicles rubbing against the smooth
material. Michael drank in the lovely sight of a pantyboy in his first
panties. He almost stood up, took Jerry into his arms and pelted him with
kisses. But he waited.

   Jerry felt the heat rising from Michael. Jerry gave off several therms
of his own.

   Jerry turned his back to Michael and slid the blue nightie over his
head, then over his sweet body. Jerry turned to face Michael.

   It was true. Blue was Jerry's color.

   Red was Michael's. The color of his cockhead anyway.

   Jerry was everything Michael had hoped for when he decided to romance
pretty boys. And this particular pretty boy several weeks earlier. But one
more touch was needed.

   Michael strode across the room and removed a tube of red lipstick from
his drawer. He handed the lipstick to Jerry, who, figuring in for a penny
in for a pound, took the tube from Michael and carefully, but inexpertly
applied it to his full lips.

   Jerry turned to face a smitten Michael. "You're gorgeous," the
pantyboy's beau said to his lover-to-be. That wasn't quite true, but
inevitably, it would be.

   And then he kissed her.

   Hot, wet and needy.

   Tongues in swirling, erotic combat.

   Grunts and moans and the smell of arousal.

   Pricks, large and small, dribbling their sticky nectar of arousal.

   Rubbing and groping.

   Jerry cried out when she felt Michael's full slab rub against her little
appetizer. The monster cock was so hot it scorched Jerry's tiny tickler.

   Jerry was almost comatose with lust. She knew she was being too forward,
but she held Michael's thick rod in her dainty hand, then explored the
shaft manually as they continued their oral engagement. Michael had never
kissed anyone erotically before and neither had Jerry. But their enthusiasm
more than compensated for their inexperience.

   Jerry kept asking herself, what was she supposed to do next? Then she
realized that she had surrendered to her man and the agenda was his. Though
he did seem to be enjoying her soft caresses along the length of his penis.

   Michael cupped Jerry's bottom in both of his strong hands. With easy
strength, he lifted her by her soft buttocks, carried her across the room
and laid her gently on her back on his bed. She squealed softly as he
covered her with his huge body, mounting her, kissing her again as he held
her cocklet in his large, but gentle hand. Jerry maintained her grip on
Michael's equipment. She followed Michael's lead, rubbing tender, pink
cockheads together as they kissed deeply. Jerry was doubly excited by the
fact that, with her man on top of her, she was completely helpless. He
could do anything he wanted with her. It was totally emasculating. Which
seemed to excite her more than anything.

   Both sets of peelips were weeping steadily, wetting both
cockheads. Making the rubbing slick and agonizingly delicious. Jerry
thought, "I'm such a little pantyboy to let a man do 'dirty things' to me
like this. I'm not a man. I'm a sissy." And that was the thought that was
the "little extra" we all need sometimes to make us eject the contents of
our "goodie bag."

   For the first time with a man, Jerry spurted sperm. Big globs of
it. With excellent accompanying sounds. By the blood-curdling screams,
someone walking by would have thought a murder was taking place. In a way,
it was. Michael Lovejoy had just murdered the masculine side of Jerry
Blanchard's personality. And the murder weapon had just exploded. Michael
cried out in joy and his massive ropes of cum soaked Jerry's nightie,
half-off panties and privates.

   Remember, it was Michael's first time with a sissy, the object of all of
his fantasies, as well.

   Well, Michael had certainly picked a good sissy to start his career,
because Jerry had managed to wiggle out from under Michael, moved her lover
to flat on his back and was licking his still-drooling cock with a skill we
can only attribute to beginner's luck.

   Wow. Jerry had Michael rampant and ready again in very short order, but
she didn't stop sucking when he was hard. In fact, she kept licking his fat
knob with her wet, warm tongue. And those looks she gave him as she did
it. So...coquettish. This was a sissy just waiting to happen. If Michael
hadn't brought her to the surface, a man would have smiled at her in a
month or so and she would have dragged him into an alley to suck his
dick. In a way, Michael had done Jerry a favor.

   It appeared Jerry was about to repay that favor in a big way. Michael
was grunting with pleasure as his first love's hungry tongue polished his
cockhead to a fine gloss. Then, all cum broke loose. His first two creamy
globs hit Jerry in the mouth and nose. The third hit her forehead. Jerry
aimed the last four at her mouth, which gave her a full meal of the juice
of life. A supersized meal, even without the first three, thus biggest,
shots.

   Jerry thought absently, "My man is a cum factory. And he gets erections
on demand." Not totally true, but close enough.

   Michael surprised Jerry by drawing her on top of him for a long session
of delicious, cummy kissing. Michael didn't seem to mind getting some of
his own cum on his handsome face. Jerry tidied him up by trying to lick off
what she could. But Michael's agenda ruled the day. She squealed loudly
when he pulled her to her knees astride his chest, then was enchanted when
he asked her to feed him her peeny.

   Her man was going to suck her off.

   Jerry had been stiff and needy since she had begun to suck Michael's
bruiser. But she subordinated her need to that of her man. But like any
true lover of sissies, her man was very aware and very attentive to her
needs as well.

   Michael knew that when he began to make love to sissies that he would
need to suck their little pricklets, swallow their sissy cream and lick
their tight pussies. He welcomed the prospect.

   So did Jerry, whose prick had never been in anyone's mouth before. It
was heavenly to rock back and forth as your man licked and sucked you. He
was so strong, but so giving and loving. It was a dream come true, so, of
course, the pantyboy began to weep tears of joy. Then things got too hot
for anything other than concentration on the upcoming cream delivery. Jerry
dropped off what felt like a quart to the nice man who was the only one on
her route at that time. She pushed and came and whimpered and came and
gasped and came. Michael swallowed it all. And loved it. Jerry dropped
senseless onto her lover's hairy, manly chest.

   When she recovered, she was on her stomach and someone (hopefully
Michael) had his tongue several inches into her anal regions. Again, she
squealed from shock and pulse-pounding pleasure.

   Things were happening to Jerry so quickly. Was Michael going to fuck
her?

   Oh yes.

   Lovejoy's remembrance of fucks past continued as he plowed the lovely
furrow of the delicious Dana, who was really a she-male, not a pantyboy.

   No matter. Lovejoy was an equal-opportunity pooper-porker.

   Lovejoy was a man who loved feminized males. He liked young, pretty,
pantyboys best. But he also enjoyed older crossdressers and every flavor of
she-male. It was just that there weren't enough hours in the day to
diversify in all the ways in which he was capable.

   Dana was on her stomach, her teeny wienie was rubbing the sheets as a
fully mounted Lovejoy fucked her from above. His supersized salami was
making Dana squeal as each long, deep stroke scraped her tender prostate.

   Despite having fucked hundreds of sweet, feminized males, each was
special. And in his own way, Lovejoy loved each girl he made love to.

   Jerry, his first, was certainly special, though. He went beck to his
memories of his first fuck. He had just surprised himself by eating Jerry's
tight little pussy. She was so...cooperative and so...needy. He knew she
would welcome his cock in her secret place.

   Jerry practically rolled out a red carpet for Michael's large, blunt
object. She wiggled her bottom and whimpered, which is as close to an
engraved invitation as such a situation allows.

   Michael was as inexperienced as Jerry was, so he was very cautious about
his approach. He knelt between Jerry's splayed legs and held Jerry's hips
in his hands. He lifted Jerry's torso up a bit, then parted her bottom
cheeks with his big splitter. Jerry was trembling and in a bit of a cold
sweat as her moment arrived.

   Michael eased his cock forward, rubbing her anus a bit to get the
correct angle. Then he pushed. She gasped. He gasped. The big mushroom
popped in with a "squish" sound.

   Both lovers saw their futures. Both liked what they saw. And felt. A
lot.

   Michael gave Jerry three more hot, stiff inches. The little doll
squealed. Three more inches and the pretty angel's bottom muscles
contracted on her lad's tosser. She ejaculated helplessly into the already
sticky sheets. Michael rubbed his cock gently as she sobbed and shook and
dribbled the remaining cum from her aching nutbag. When she let her guard
down, Michael pushed the remainder of his big boy all the way in her.

   It felt wonderful!!! For both of them. Not just the physical feelings,
which were exquisite. Michael reveled in the feelings of dominance. Jerry
adored the feelings of submission and emasculation. And the huge load of
cum he pumped into her ass felt awfully good as well.

   That memory triggered a very nice, present-day explosion in the
well-buttered bottom of the lovely Dana.

   Girls like Dana, and certainly girls like that new little beauty, Paris,
were the reason his Lovejoy Institute was able to exist. Big donations from
big donors made his college a very healthy institution. Frequent "donor
weekends" where donors and girlish students spent quality time together
seemed to engender even more generous donations. Really big donors even
enjoyed the pleasure of a pantyboy's company for one or two weeks of winter
break or spring break.

   Lovejoy had a good thing going. But it was good for everyone associated
with the Lovejoy Institute, not just him.



   Chapter Three -- Johnson joins son

   Mark Johnson, PhD was thinking that it hadn't been a good idea to get a
rental car to drive from the airport at Vista del Sol to his son's school
in Pink Beach, Florida. Driving while both frighteningly nervous and
horribly erect is not optimal.

   Funny how Mark still thought of Josh as his son. Of course, he hadn't
seen the lovely Paris since her transition, though he had seen her pictures
many times. And the pictures of the lovely Carly, Paris' pantied friend.

   Oh the fantasies Mark had conceived since Carly had offered to transport
Mark to a carnal carnival where a kewpie doll was won several times a day!
Mark had even dared to dream of taking Carly as his boy-wife, always
dressed to thrill and subject to his every need, no matter how
disgusting. The envy of the neighborhood. The most feminine person within
hundreds of miles. Men need to dream. It's what keeps them sane.

   Paris had even hinted about meeting and "enjoying" other Lovejoy
Institute students. Had he filed his will properly? He had better remind
Paris where the key to the safety deposit box was.

   In a secret corner of his mind where he rarely allowed himself to visit,
Mark knew that his "stones stirred" when he saw the naked, rampant Brett as
well. Had he reasoned it out, he would have known that as an alpha male,
his urge to dominate, even emasculate a powerful, yet lesser alpha male was
a strong instinct. Plus Brett had a great butt.

   Anyway, Mark breathed deeply as he pulled into the parking lot at the
Lovejoy Institute administration building for his 1 p.m. meeting with
Dr. Lovejoy.

   It would be some long weekend.

   Meanwhile, in a different part of campus, at noon, Carly Suckmore was
leaving her freshman English class and heading across the quad to her
dorm. She wanted to look extra pretty, and a little trampy, for Paris'
extra-hunky Dad, Dr. Johnson. Carly giggled a little at that name --
Johnson -- the nickname for a penis. What a tough name to go through life
with.

   The usual lunchtime crowd was out on the quad. Alphas with tight pouches
looking for a lunchtime assignation. With 60% more pantyboys than men, the
alphas usually didn't have to look very diligently. Most of the pantyboys
hadn't been fucked since before breakfast and they were itching for a full
bottom.

   Carly wasn't looking because she had a date with an older man! The other
freshman girls were so jealous, since most of them hadn't even dallied with
the faculty yet, just upperclassmen and their classmates. Which was VERY
nice, thank you. But the thought of a bottomful of cock from a beautiful,
hairy, 40-ish man like Dr. Johnson made pretty Carly's testicles rumble in
their pretty, pink bag.

   Carly was sissying across the quad in black, patent-leather,
five-inch-stiletto pumps, black, seamed stockings, a miniskirt that didn't
cover her stocking tops, and a baby-T that said, "Ask me if I swallow."
across her flat chest. Alphas were staring at her with lust, as were many
of the other pantyboys. But the word was out that she was taken for the
weekend.

   Arriving at her nicely appointed room, Carly assured herself that things
were clean and straightened. She didn't want her first "seasoned" man to
think she was a slob. There was plenty of lube and babyoil in the
nightstand -- check -- and seven sets of clean sheets -- check. That should
get them through until tomorrow, she thought. Some of the upperclass girls
had warned Carly that older guys couldn't cum 10 to 15 times a day like the
younger ones. "So what," the precocious pantyboy said. "I can." And that
ended the advice session.

   Carly gave herself a two-quart enema so she would be squeaky-clean for
that hunky treasure. Then she settled into her bubble bath.

   Meanwhile, at 12:50, Mark entered Lovejoy's palatial, outer office. The
most impressive part of the office wasn't the luxury, it was the
receptionist. She was a middle-aged knockout. Dressed in a business suit
that was failing miserably at dampening her raging femininity, Lovejoy's
secretary was a world-class beauty, with legs that a Rockette would kill
for.

   "I'm Jerry Blanchard-Hayes," the masterpiece said, in a deep, yet
girlish voice. "I'm Dr. Lovejoy's assistant. You're a little early,
Dr. Johnson. May I get you anything?"

   "Yes," Mark thought, "Two weeks in a hotel room with room service for
the two of us, then a body bag for me." Mark had been at Lovejoy Institute
only a few minutes and already he was in love. With Lovejoy's 40-something
secretary.

   Mark attempted conversation. "Have you been with Dr. Lovejoy long?"

   Jerry smiled. Mark blinked at the radiance of it. "Oh, yes,
Dr. Johnson. I was his first. My husband doesn't like to be reminded of
that, but the pay is great here and I think it's kind of cool."

   Mark thought dully, "His first what?" but he didn't ask. Wait, did that
divine work of pulchritude mean that she was once a ...?" Mark dismissed
that thought just as the door flung open and Lovejoy appeared.

   The man was incredibly vital, as you might expect from a guy who is
getting all the best sissy pussy in the world, wherever and whenever he
wants it. Taller than Mark would have guessed, and good looking.

   That approximated the evaluation Lovejoy made of Mark Johnson.

   Lovejoy welcomed Mark into his huge office, then sat him in a chair at a
long conference table. Lovejoy sat at the head of the table. They engaged
in the usual small talk until Mark felt gentle hands in his crotch, opening
his zipper!

   Lovejoy smiled at Mark's reaction. "Don't be concerned, Dr. Johnson,"
Lovejoy said. "Our pantyboys are always looking to please our important
visitors, such as yourself. The lovely Allison is under the table, on her
knees, looking to relieve the tensions of your trip by using her mouth and
fingers to pleasing effect. May she proceed?"

   <Gulp> Knowing it would be rude to turn down such hospitality, Mark
said, "Yes, please. Thank you, Dr. Lovejoy...and Allison."

   Lovejoy was happy at Mark's response. So was Allison, who set to work
immediately and skillfully. So was Mark, who realized that Allison was the
first biological male to touch him "down there" since Randy Roberts sucked
Mark's cock behind the barn when they were twelve. Then moved away. The
horny ones always move away, Mark mused. Imagine what life would be like if
they all moved to one place.

   It was difficult to concentrate on Lovejoy's questions with Allison
slurping Mark's ponderous putz. The questions were probing too. Was he
being interviewed or something?

   Anyway, Lovejoy seemed to like Mark's answers. Mark asked Lovejoy
questions about the school too, and even asked if a pantyboy was under the
table "relaxing" Lovejoy as they conferred.

   "Yes, Dr. Johnson. The beautiful Darla has me in a bit of a state, as I
imagine you are too. Why don't we take these lovely ladies into the other
room and enjoy them more fully?"

   That sounded good to Mark, though he didn't want to use up the spunk he
was saving for Carla. Maybe just one, nice creamy cum for Allison wouldn't
hurt, though.

   The girls emerged from under the table. They were stunners!! Each
lovelier and more feminine than the other. And they each had a stiff popsy
poking from their only garment, tiny, pink panties.

   Lovejoy led the way, escorting Darla to a couch against one wall of his
office. He gestured to Mark to use the couch on the opposite wall. Then
Lovejoy stunned Johnson by stripping naked. He then welcomed Darla to his
lap, his huge cock "angried-up" as some say in the American South.

   With no intention of being a wet blanket, Mark stripped equally naked,
wondering if Lovejoy was testing him in some way. No matter. Allison was
whimpering with lust and that took priority.

   Lovejoy was kissing Darla deeply as he stroked her cock with his gentle
hand. Darla squealed and panted appropriately.

   Mark surprised himself by wasting no time in removing Allison's pretty
panties.

   Mark had wondered if he would be able to, you know, actually do sex
things with pantyboys. Pantyboys had flounced through his dreams for many
years. He had been an avid "reader" of Panty Boy magazine since its
inception and had spilled an ocean of cum in tribute to the pantied
princesses featured on its sticky pages.

   But pantyboys had...penises. Penises were icky for heterosexual men. A
lesson hot-wired into his DNA -- every guy's DNA -- since birth. Would Mark
be able to make love to someone with a penis? Even someone as gorgeous,
feminine and eager to please a man as a Panty Boy pantyboy or a Lovejoy
Institute pantyboy? Someone like Allison...or Carly?

   It still required a huge leap of faith for a lifelong "heterosexual" man
to take a pantyboy's popsy into his mouth and to suck out the creamy
filling. Or to push his "business" into a pantyboy's pretty "pussy."

   Mark looked at the delicious, eager prize before him. He was ready to
take that leap of faith. Allison was too good to pass up. But he didn't
know what to do.

   Allison, who looked like a beautiful, well-maintained-but-flat-chested
girl, but had a 19-year-old boy's sex drive, understood. And she knew what
to do.

   The naked little doll sat on Mark's lap and started to kiss him. They
both liked that. Then she said, "Oh, Daddy! You've made me so stiff and
drippy! You're so handsome and manly. You make me so excited that I'm
almost bursting. And my little bag is getting sore. Please help me feel
better."

   How could a chivalrous gentleman turn that down? Mark continued kissing
Allison as he placed a hand on her very stiff, but teeny peeny.

   "Oh, Daddy, that feels so good," she said. Mark didn't know why she was
calling him Daddy, but it made his own equipment stiffen even more. "Please
keep rubbing me, Daddy. I need it!"

   Pantyboys say (and mean) the kinds of things men wish women would say.

   Mark was giving a "boy" (by a very strict definition only) a
handjob. And they were both enjoying it very much. He even dropped his hand
to her pretty pearls and gave them a nice cuddle as well. Allison responded
enthusiastically, which tripled Mark's enjoyment. When he moved his hand
back to her sensitive cockhead and gave her a very nice thumbrub, she
squealed, "Daddy!!!!!" and spurted her hot creamies in thick globs, Mark
almost lost his own load of goo.

   That was apparently next on the appreciative Allison's agenda.

   Mark was perplexed about how to deal with the sissy cream all over his
right hand. Again, Allison anticipated his needs and, taking Mark's hand in
hers, licked off and swallowed her own sperm.

   Oh. That was sexy.

   But not as much as when Allison literally sat on Mark's cock.

   Mark was sitting. Allison kissed him deeply, then managed to rid him of
his troublesome trousers. Naturally, his penis was straining the limits of
its skin. In a move worthy of the Lovejoy Institute's fine traditions,
Allison faced Mark, straddled his legs and, with one steady movement,
lowered herself (and her pre-lubed bottom) onto Mark's delighted dick.

   Truth be told, Mark had never had his cock in anyone's bottom before. It
was very different from your standard, garden-variety pussy. The "grip" was
different. The lubrication was different. The angle of assault was the most
different of all.

   But when a tight, hot bottom was attached to someone like Allison, it
offered the best fucking known to humankind.

   His reservations completely addressed, Mark decided it was time to take
charge. Allison, being naturally submissive, couldn't be happier.

   Mark applied his lips and tongue to each puffy nipple of his naked,
squealing partner. Just like titties, he thought, only better. They would
never sag. They were totally sensitive to a man's love. And they puffed
like little cocks when a pantyboy was excited.

   Allison was very excited.

   Mark marveled at the intensity of his sexual sensations. Frankly, he
hadn't had his cock inside anyone in more than 13 years. Women had pursued
him, but the downsides with women had always seemed much steeper than their
upsides.

   To begin his fucking life anew with a Lovejoy pantyboy was like breaking
a long fast with a 20-course feast.

   So it surprised no one, including Mark when his balls exploded,
WRENCHING the cum from his hairy bag and soaking sweet Allison's perfect
bowels with his hot juices.

   The poor fellow actually passed out from the joyous agony. When he
awoke, only he and Lovejoy were in the room.

   "You'll have to pace yourself a bit, old sport," Lovejoy said. "I know
you've been out of the game for a while, but I can see that you are an
excellent player. And you seem to have overcome that little problem many
new men have about fucking girly boys' bottoms. I imagine you'll be sucking
their peeners next and swallowing their sissy cream. It's so
delicious. You'll see. You seem to be a natural alpha male. And just the
age for these randy little creampuffs to drool over. They'll be wiggling
their pretty bottoms at you the whole time you're here. And I imagine
you'll end up taking most of them in your bed, if you want to stay a while
longer than just the weekend. You're welcome to do so."

   Mark's heart leaped. It appears that he had impressed Lovejoy enough to
give him an open-ended invitation to stay at the Institute. He would do
just that. Stay a week. Maybe two. How wonderful.

   "Let's get you dressed and off to see your sweet Paris. She's a
knockout, Dr. Johnson -- one of the cutest, sexiest little prickteasers
we've ever had here. And I understand she's lined you up with her friend
Carly for the weekend. A magnificent introduction for you to our
community. After the weekend, you may want to find some other pretty boys
to grace with your hot juices. Meanwhile, take this. You can go wash up in
my private bathroom, then put it on, with these sandals and I'll take you
to meet Paris."

   Lovejoy had offered Mark an "alpha thong," the revealing pouch that male
students and faculty at Lovejoy wore most of the time.

   But Mark couldn't walk around 90% naked, could he? Of course, that was
what Lovejoy was wearing and Mark was convinced that he could look at least
as good at the Institute's president in that skimpy gear.

   What would Paris think when she saw how sexy her Daddy looked in a
garment that only covered his cock and balls? And revealed their shape and
erectile condition in some detail?

   Mark shuddered and began to erect at the thought of arousing his pantied
"son."

   It was wrong, but it was making Mark crazy.

   When Mark emerged from the bathroom in pouch and sandals, Lovejoy said,
"My goodness. You look outstandingly sexy. It'll be a wonder if I can get
you across the quad without you being gang-sissied by the entire student
body."

   Mark smiled. Lovejoy was kidding, wasn't he?

   Anyway, Mark was fully erect and fully ready to see what lay beyond
Lovejoy's office doors. Beginning with seeing his son in full pantyboy mode
for the first time. And his pantied son seeing his Daddy as an alpha male
for the first time.

   Lovejoy was in a fine mood when he and Mark, dressed only in their alpha
pouches and sandals, strode toward the quad, the busiest place on
campus. Mark knew he had an exceptional, male body, but he was
self-conscious about being a bit pale over most of its muscular
expanse. The pantyboys and alphas Mark and Lovejoy encountered on their
stroll didn't seem to notice.

   Mark expected the students to show Lovejoy respect -- the man ran their
little playpen and he had the biggest cock Mark had ever seen. But he was
unprepared for the appreciation the students gave him, a man no one knew.

   The alphas gave the strolling, older men wide berth -- a sign of
respect. The sissies giggled and preened and wiggled their little bottoms
at Mark. Pretty little bottoms. Bottoms that had experienced many fine
visitors. Unlike the men, the girls were dressed eclectically, with all
manner of alluring feminine attire. The sissies giggled, then ooohed and
aaahed when Mark, who was after all only human, erected fiercely in their
presence.

   Lovejoy made an announcement, word of which would surely rocket across
campus. "Ladies, this fine gentleman and alpha-daddy is Dr. Mark Johnson,
Paris' father. He'll be spending the weekend with Carly." [Disappointed
groans from the girls] "But then he'll be staying for quite a while, so I
want you girls to make him feel welcome." [Excited murmurs from the crowd
of girls.]

   "I can make Dr. Johnson feel very welcome right now," a lovely she-male
junior named Maria said. She had double-D titties, huge, curly, black hair,
tan-stockinged-encased legs that belonged in the Smithsonian, and a face
that would make the young Elizabeth Taylor envious.

   Everyone laughed except Mark, who was trying not to humiliate himself by
cumming into his alpha thong.

   Perhaps sensing Mark's arousal, Lovejoy good-naturedly broke up the
crowd and moved Mark toward their destination, Paris' dorm room.

   Mark and Lovejoy stood at Paris' door. Mark took a deep breath and
knocked.

   The door flew open. The kind of girl Mark (and every other male) thinks
he will never live long enough to see in person, screamed in joy, then
leaped into his naked arms.

   My goodness, Mark thought, as he embraced his lovely "son." He had only
caught a glimpse of her as she joyfully flung herself at him, but what he
saw was truly stunning. Mark's son made that Maria he had met in the quad
look like the last girl picked to play spin the bottle.

   Paris was weeping with joy, hugging her Daddy as if they had been apart
for two years, not the two months it had been. Paris had changed so much,
it may as well have been two centuries, Mark thought.

   It took all his strength for Mark to extricate himself from his loving
son's grip and to hold her at arms' length for inspection. First
impressions were confirmed. This was a world-class pantyboy. The kind men
mortgage their homes to buy jewelry for. The kind men go insane dreaming
over and longing for. She looked like everyman's wet dream in a black
lingerie peignoir set that included a filmy robe that concealed nothing of
her filmy, black, babydoll nightie with matching, skimpy panties, and long,
silky, black stockings so high, only inches of creamy thigh were
uncovered. Paris walked easily in the highest heels -- strappy, black,
stiletto mules -- that Mark had ever seen. She was even <gulp> Mark's wet
dream.

   And she was strong too. She didn't spend much time allowing herself to
be admired by her father. In moments, she had broken Mark's grip and was
back into her father's full embrace -- rubbing her loveliness against
Mark's naked flesh. Very excited to be with her Daddy again. Inadvertently
(?) rubbing her stiff, little tickler against her Daddy's big, hot, hard
pussypoker as they embraced, weeping and professing her undying love for
her Daddy.

   Mark was scared silly that he would cum while his pantied son was
holding him and rubbing...oh, rubbing...her package against his. He didn't
want that. He tried to... He was going to... Oh -- humiliation. All that
stimulation on the quad, then the joy of seeing Paris! The rubbing. The
poor, mortified man was cumming hard. Gasping for air. Tears in his
eyes. His alpha pouch was drenched with his sticky juices, as were his
thighs. And worse, Paris private regions were soaked with the overflowing
paternal juices! It was unintentional. He would never...

   It was a good thing Lovejoy was there to give things proper
perspective. "Think nothing of all that," the wise educator
said. "Overexcitement is the norm at Lovejoy Institute, especially for
someone as new as Dr. Johnson. It's clear that all this 'naughty business'
was unintentional."

   Mark felt some relief at that. But when he looked at Paris, smiling
coyly at him, he wondered whether she had tried to... No. She was a good
girl. It was unintentional and that was that.

   Paris seemed to notice the globs of cum on her pretty tummy for the
first time. "Oh, Daddy, Dr. Lovejoy," she said, "Please come in. I need to
clean up. My boyfriend Brett is coming by and it wouldn't be proper for him
to see me with my father's creamy spendings all over me. I'll get you a
washcloth too, Daddy. And a fresh, XXL alpha pouch. It's so easier for men
to 'freshen up' around here. "

   It was true. Mark, Lovejoy and Paris went into the lovely dorm room. It
was functional and feminine, with a huge bed, four walk-in closets, one of
which was just for shoes, and a vanity table strewn with every cosmetic
known to humans.

   Mark saw Paris slip into the bathroom and, it appeared that, but he
wasn't sure...Was Paris scooping a bit of her Daddy's cum from her peignoir
with two fingers. What was she doing? Oh. Why was she licking her fingers
and sighing deeply. Mark must have been mistaken.

   But Mark's third erection in less than an hour was no mistake. Goodness
knows what might have happened if Lovejoy had not distracted Mark with
conversation about the room's amenities.

   Things were certainly different here, Mark thought.

   When Paris emerged from her bathroom, fresh and tidy, Mark slipped in
there to straighten himself out. He peeled back his minimal garment to
reveal a sticky, cummy mess, all over his pubic hairs, cock and balls. He
was thinking of taking a shower, not just a sponge bath when there was a
knock on the bathroom door. It was Lovejoy.

   "I'm off to other things, old sport," Lovejoy said. "Why don't you
shower so you'll be fresh for a fun weekend with Carly? Then come by on
Monday morning and we'll discuss some things. Things about your
future. Meanwhile, I reminded Paris that while we don't have many rules of
decorum here, the things she may have on her mind about you are definitely
out-of-bounds."

   Mark thanked Lovejoy sincerely, then closed the bathroom door. He
stepped into the warm shower with lots to think about. Was Lovejoy thinking
about offering Mark a job at the Institute? Is so, was Mark's life
insurance paid up? Did Mark want to live and work in the most
sexually-charged environment on the planet? And what kinds of things did
Paris have on her mind about her and Mark?

   "Bad Mark" thought, "What business was it of Lovejoy's to meddle if a
pantyboy wanted to show her father some affection?" "Good Mark" slapped
"Bad Mark", but "Bad Mark" began to fantasize that Paris had stripped and
gotten into the shower with the real Mark. They were soaping each other and
embracing and kissing...

   "Good Mark" won out! "Bad Mark's" fantasy never happened. Mostly because
Paris never came into the bathroom, naked or otherwise, when Mark was in
the shower. Otherwise, since Mark was a guy, "Bad Mark" would have probably
kicked "Good Mark's" bony ass and father would have been very bad with his
offspring.

   Again, that "bad stuff" with Paris did not happen. Though that fantasy
was to remain a sure-fire way for Mark to regain an erection whenever he
needed one. And he was to need one frequently at Lovejoy Institute.

   Anyway, Mark dried off and slipped his alpha pouch and sandals on. When
he opened the door, he was surprised to see Paris on her bed with a randy,
beautiful young man, who had Paris' stiff little tinkler in his mouth and
was making her squeal happily.

   The couple stopped coupling when Mark appeared, but neither was
self-conscious about being "caught" like that by a girl's father.

   "Daddy," Paris said, "This is Brett, my man."

   Wow! Paris was possessive, Mark thought. He recognized Brett from the
email pictures, but they didn't do him justice. He was the acme of male
beauty. Masculine, yet so handsome that he was almost pretty. His pouch had
been removed during his love-tussle with Paris and his cock was standing
tall and skinned.

   Mortification for Mark seemed to be occurring at least once every half
hour during that lovely, life-altering day. He was erect again. But that
time, at the sight of his pantied son's boyfriend!!!! A totally unexpected
and unprecedented (for Mark) occurrence.

   Was Mark "turning gay?" Did he need to get Cher CDs, a timeshare on Fire
Island and designer alpha pouches?

   Politely, Mark and Paris pretended not to notice. Or maybe they really
care enough to notice. Brett looked as if he wanted to bury his cock deeply
into Paris' eager behind as soon as Daddy cleared out.

   To move things along, Paris popped up and said, "Daddy, I just spoke to
Carly. She's ready and waiting for you and she's in 223, four doors to the
right. The four of us can have breakfast tomorrow at 9, if that's OK with
you."

   That was more than 18 hours away. Was he going to be in that room that
long with an eager, hot-to-trot pantyboy? Could he keep her happy that
long?

   He wasn't 18 anymore -- more like 40.

   Still, how often does a guy get an offer like that? Mark took a deep
breath, went to Paris, kissed her on the cheek and said, "Have a nice time,
kids."

   Paris giggled and said, "You too, Daddy. Don't do anything Brett
wouldn't do." Then she lay on her back spread her legs and brought her
knees up to her nipples so Brett could have oral access to her anus. Brett
kissed and licked and tongued that perfect rosebud as Paris squealed
happily and Mark slipped from the room.

   He turned to the right. Walked. Room 223. OK. Another deep breath. He
knocked.

   Milliseconds later, the door flung open. They certainly didn't teach
these girls to be coy, Mark thought.

   But someone who looked like Carly didn't need to be coy. She only needed
to be Carly.

   Pink. That was his first impression of Carly. A pink outfit that looked
identical to the super-femmy, super-sexy, black ensemble that Paris had
worn.

   Paris. That was his second impression of Carly. Same build. Same
size. Carly looked enough like Paris that they could be
sisters. Creepy. Very creepy.

   Randy. That was his third impression of Carly. She threw her arms around
Mark and said, "Oh, Dr. Johnson. I've been counting the days until your
arrival. I'm so happy to see you. And Dr. Johnson, you are the hunkiest man
in the Northern Hemisphere, do you know that?"

   Praise is a great aphrodisiac. As is the smell and look and touch of the
feminine masterpiece who stood before him.

   Mark was very excited. He wished Carly didn't look so much like
Paris. But he planned to get over that very soon.

   Carly took Mark by her warm hand and led him to a comfortable chair.

   "You must be so tired from your trip and all the 'oddities' you've
already seen and experienced around here. Can I get you some lemonade?"

   Mark, like most guys around someone like Carly, was not thinking about
lemonade.

   "No lemonade?" Carly said. "OK. I only have one chair in here, so would
it be OK if I sat on your lap?"

   <Gulp> "Yes, please, Carly. I would like that very much. Paris tells me
that you're an English Literature major." Mark was very nervous.

   Carly settled into Mark's lap. Making sure her thigh was rubbing against
his stiffening sissypleaser.

   "Oh, yes, Dr. Johnson. The academics are very good here. Very
challenging. Just like the extracurricular activities." <Rub, rub>

   <Gulp> "So, Carly, I know you're a freshman, but do you have a career
selected yet?"

   Carly laid her head on Mark's hairy, bare chest. She began playing with
the hairs around Mark's nipple and said, "Oh, yes sir. I want to be a nice,
rich man's boy-wife. Making myself pretty for him, making his home
comfortable and pleasing him in any way he wants -- forever."

   <Gulp> <Gulp> "I can see where that's a very achievable ambition,
Carly. You're stunningly beautiful and you have an attitude that almost no
women have. You want to please men. Do you want to please me, Carly?"

   Carly smiled, "I thought you would never ask, Dr. Johnson. Dr. Johnson
is just too many syllables. You're the first man over 22 I've 'been with.'
May I call you, 'Daddy,' Dr. Johnson?"

   Mark thought: A boy who looks like my son. Both of them dress and act as
girls. This one wants to have continuous sex with me and wants to call me
Daddy. What does that say about me? What would Freud say? Who cares?

   Mark embraced Carly, kissing her deeply. "Oh Daddy," she moaned softly.

   So sweet. And pink. All over. And she smelled fantastic. Was that "White
Diamonds" perfume? Her lips were perfectly glossed. And how did she "do"
her eyes like that? They looked enormous. Like Paris' huge,
cosmetically-enhanced baby blues he had marveled over less than an hour
earlier.

   Carly was covered from neck to foot and he was practically naked. That
peignoir looked so feminine, but it had to come off.

   Mark peeled Carly's frilly, night covering over her creamy, left
shoulder, kissing it as he exposed its magnificence. Carly gasped in
appreciation. Mark exposed the right shoulder and that time it was Mark's
turn to gasp. Only the thinnest of spaghetti straps from Carly's tiny
nightie covered the pretty boy's alabaster neck and smooth shoulders.

   The bare shoulders were so kissable. And the kisses were so
appreciated. Mark had located the first of what must have been 70 or 80
erogenous zones on the marvelous Carly.

   His long-term goal was to give Carly at least one screaming orgasm from
the stimulation of each erogenous zone.

   Gently, with minimum wiggling, the lovers lowered the filmy robe to
Carly's waist. Oh, my. Her upper arms were lovely too. So were the lower
arms. Pink was everywhere, both in skin and lingerie.

   It occurred to them simultaneously that the project they were
undertaking would better be accomplished on the bed, so they rose and,
kissing all the way, navigated to the bed, the robe divested en route.

   Carly lay on her back in her teeny nightie. Her spaghetti straps were
down. Her panties were "pointed." Her luscious legs were encased in pink,
fully-fashioned stockings with reinforced heel and toe. Her pretty,
red-painted toenails were peeking from behind the silky nylon. Her pink,
strappy, six-inch-stiletto mules made her look even sexier than the wet
dream she already was.

   Mark lay next to her, deciding how he should proceed. When you're 40,
your lover is 18, and you've cum twice in two hours, you take your time,
giving your ball bag time to move from "E" toward "F."

   Top-down seemed to be working well, so he continued. Lovingly, Mark
peeled Carly's babydoll down to expose the prettiest nipples he had ever
seen. Mark considered his prizes. Pink and stiff, as Mark imagined Carly's
as-yet-unseen sissypole was, her nipples invited a man's kisses. Vaguely,
he wondered what Brett and Paris were doing four rooms to the left.

   "My nipples need love, Daddy," the little prickteaser extraordinaire
said.

   Mark wondered vaguely who was really in charge of that operation. It was
true that Carly's nipples needed his immediate attention, but something
"alpha" within Mark stirred when Carly gave him so much "direction." If I
wanted direction, Mark thought, I could fuck a woman.

   Wasn't the man supposed to be the master? And now and then, shouldn't
the man be a bit of an animal?

   Mark decided that if he was going to stand out as a worthy sex partner
for these worthiest of sperm receptacles, he was going to have to be a bit
different from the "boys" who were servicing the pantied princesses. He was
going to have to be a man. A real man. A bit wild and very firm.

   Mark began by giving Carly's right nipple a tiny lovebite. Just a hint
of teeth, but Carly's pretty eyes opened wide at that one. And she
whimpered. When Mark repeated the process on her left nubber, Carly knew
she was dealing with someone different from the lovers who merely kissed
and licked and made rapid, but frequent love to her.

   Mark liked the reaction he was getting. He sensed the tiniest bit of
fear, which adds a very spicy element to basic lovemaking. Carly was 99.9%
sure that Mark would not tear into her with his teeth like a starving
jackal. But that 0.1% had her senses boiling.

   He gently chewed on each nipple, doing no harm, other than causing every
blood corpuscle in Carly's body to rush to her penis. Then, suddenly, he
abandoned her nipples, leaving her trembling and whimpering.

   Carly's respite was brief, but long enough to increase her fear to 0.2%!

   Mark peeled Carly's panties down and exposed her tiny "package."

   A tiny pricklet. Pink and stiff. And quivering with lust and fear.

   A silky, pink purse of delicious, girlie pellets, dangling and swollen
with raw need.

   Mark stayed with his theme. Slowly and carefully, Mark began to chew the
loose skin of Carly's scrotum.

   Carly's eyes opened completely, she arched her back, screamed as if she
were being gutted, and pumped thick globs of the world's sweetest cream
allover her flat, warm, silky tummy.

   Mark continued to chew the wrinkled skin as Carly whimpered her way back
to the land of the living. Then he stood up and said, "Stand up and face
the wall!"

   Oh, goodness!! Was this brute going to shoot her? He was an animal!
USING her to satisfy his own disgusting needs!

   Carly couldn't remember ever being that excited.

   Carly stood immediately and sissied over to a bare wall in her dorm
room. Facing it. In her big heels, stockings and babydoll. Panties down to
her knees.

   Mark moved her feet apart with his foot, none too gently. Her legs
spread about two feet apart. Just enough to open her cheeks to this
rampaging brute.

   What was he going to do to her? Fuck her? She certainly hoped so.

   She said, "There's lube in my drawer."

   Mark gave a fairly convincing snarl and said, "No lube for you. I'll
lube you with my cum. Maybe I'll spank you first. Is there a strap in the
room?"

   In one of the least proud moments of her life, Carly peed herself when
Mark said that. All over the wall. Mark hoped she had some good cleaner in
the bathroom.

   Mark had had no intention of spanking Carly, but if it excited her like
that, he would certainly add it to the weekend's agenda.

   For the first time since she had been allowed to express herself as a
pantyboy, Carly was totally under a man's dominance. She was
scared. Terrified even. But her cock was hard as hardened, hard stuff and
near orgasm from her stupefying excitement.

   Mark hoped she wasn't scared shitless. That would have been a messier
cleanup.

   The sissified lad had been fucked many times in that pretty anus, so
Mark was sure he wouldn't injure Carly by "fucking her dry." But it would
not be easy either. Having come that far, Mark proceeded.

   He reached around Carly and held her stiff, aching popsy in his manly
hand. "I thought you were afraid of me, Baby. This stiff thing isn't
afraid."

   Carly whimpered, panting heavily as the rude man stroked her lovestick.

   Mark put his cock into position at Carly's tiny hole. "Tell me you want
me to put it in you, Baby, Mark said."

   Carly held her head back, reveling in the strokes the bad man was giving
her penis. Afraid, but longing for full insertion of his thick
pole. "Please put it in me," she begged breathlessly.

   Mark said, "I knew you wanted it. Here it is." Trite, but accurate. Then
he did something far from trite. Rather than enter her as she was, legs
apart, standing, Mark pushed Carly hard against the wall. Flattening
her. Immobilizing her.

   Carly yelped from surprise. Then he let her cock go and used his hands
to spread her cheeks and, in one swift motion, pushed six inches of his
cock into the helpless girl.

   Carly squealed and came all over herself and the wall. More cleaner
needed.

   Mark shoved in the last three inches, then pressed himself into
Carly. Making her a "wall pancake" as he fucked her dry bottom. The
pleasure for Carly exceeded the pain by a factor of 100 to one.

   She felt totally emasculated and used. Completely at a strong man's
mercy. Just the way a true pantyboy sees herself in her naughtiest dreams.

   She couldn't move; could hardly breathe.

   A big cock plowing her bottom. A hairy, rutting, ultra-masculine man
using her for his pleasure.

   Mmmmmmmm!

   Carly gave herself completely to that brutish man. And dreamed of
marrying him, bearing his children and submitting to him sexually many
times a day for the rest of their lives.

   But Carly was the kind who rushed things.

   At the moment, the highest priority was milking out her man's big,
creamy load. Her gasps and whimpers, combined with her complete submission
and, let's not forget, her perfect "pussy," did the job very well. Ten
rutting, almost suffocating minutes later, Mark's dam burst and he filled
his new friend with thick juices.

   Did Carly hear him mumble, "Oh, Paris!" when he came? Maybe not. And
what if he did? It was Carly who had just gotten the fucking of her life.

   Not Paris.

   Carly was completely smitten by Paris' father. A man she once imagined
to be a wimpy academic.

   A man who had withdrawn his big cock from Carly's ass and was standing
by the bed, ordering Carly on her knees in front of him.

   Gladly!!!!!!

   Carly sissy-ran over and hit her knees, a familiar position to Lovejoy
Institute girls.

   "Look at me," her lover said. She did.

   Then he did something else that the younger alphas never did. He began
to smack her face, gently, but smacks nevertheless, with his wet, limp
cock. Rubbing his cum and other juices on her perfectly made-up face.

   Using me again, Carly thought, and her blood boiled.

   "Clean me," he said and Carly did. Licking and kissing. Sucking and
caressing.

   It took her 30 minutes to get him hard. Then he said, "I'm going to cum
in your face, then you're going to clean that pissy mess you made by the
wall. After that, we're going to take a shower. I'm going to fuck you again
in the shower. Then we're going to take a long nap."

   Secretly, Mark hoped he could meet that agenda. The only part he was
sure he could do was the nap part.

   But the Force was with Dr. Johnson that day. And it didn't take long for
every pantyboy at the Institute to know that a true fucking-star had been
born.



    Epilogue

   I guess you can figure out the rest. Mark and Carly made love that
entire three-day weekend. Carly came so many times she ran out of fingers
and toes to count them. She came hardest after Mark spanked her, then
fucked her blistered bottom.

   Paris was sooooo jealous. And a bit moody. She and Brett broke up soon
after that weekend. Which was a good thing for Paris and all alphas besides
Brett at the Institute.

   Word of Mark's stardom reached Dr. Lovejoy, of course. That strengthened
his resolve to offer Mark employment.

   "I have a groundbreaking project for you, Mark," Lovejoy said. "Research
funded by the U.S. taxpayer."

   [For our readers outside the USA: Members of Congress often help ensure
their re-election by spending taxpayer money on bewildering projects (such
as tennis courts where no one lives, research into jelly flavor choices,
support for a zithering school) that bring that money to their home
districts. The original name for this was "pork-barrel politics," but
today, it is called merely "pork." So the Lovejoy project was "pork for
porking pantyboys."]

   "We know that a boy who scores 95 or higher on the Gingerman Test is a
simpering little nancyboy," Lovejoy told Mark. "But where does it end? Can
a '90' be a cock-sucking, pantied princess? How about an '85' or an '80?'
We want you to go out into 'the field' and do the research! Long weekends
back here at the Institute, of course."

   Hmmmmm. Mark would have to think about that job offer. Maybe he would
just go back to his home in the Midwest, where it was 15 degrees below zero
and he hadn't been laid in 13 years.

   Hmmmmm.


 Please tell me what you think at gingerfred2005@yahoo.com.

My other stories on nifty:

"Acting Up" transgender -- control
"Panty Pleasures" transgender -- young friends
"Woodville" transgender -- tv
"Mothered" transgender -- control
"Panty Town" transgender -- teen
"Tradition" transgender -- teen
"Punished" transgender -- high school
"Panty Paradise" transgender -- teen
"Kevin and Molly Go to Camp" -- transgender -- teen
"Lovelife" -- transgender -- high school
"My Three Sissies" -- transgender -- tv
"Acting Out" -- transgender -- high school
"Explorers" -- transgender -- high school
"Pantied" -- transgender -- young friends
"Rebuilding" -- transgender -- teen
"The Au Pair" -- transgender -- surgery
"Birthday Girl" -- transgender -- teen
"Genes" -- transgender -- high school
"Brothers in Panties" -- transgender -- teen
"Coach" -- transgender -- control
"Intervention" -- transgender -- high school
"Winners" -- transgender -- teen
"Teased" transgender -- high school
"Irish Girls" transgender -- teen
"Finished" -- transgender -- teen
"Role Model" -- transgender -- high school
"Freedom" -- transgender -- high school
"Panty Fiesta" -- transgender -- control
"Experiments" -- transgender college
"One Fine Day" -- transgender -- teen
"Stiff Resistance" -- transgender -- teen
"Poker" -- transgender -- tv
"Panty Sabbatical" -- transgender -- high school
"Published" -- transgender -- tv
"Stripped" -- transgender -- high school
"Trained" -- transgender -- control
"Something Better" -- transgender - tv
"Fulfilled" -- transgender -- tv
"Private Matters" -- transgender -- high school
"Hard Times" -- transgender -- tv
"Girl Nights" -- transgender -- control
"Geography" -- transgender -- tv
"Somewhere" -- transgender -- high school
"Next Door Bride" -- transgender -- chemical (though I don't think it has
chemicals) 
"Service" -- transgender -- tv
"Test Driven" -- transgender -- tv
"Sissy Stepmother" -- transgender -- tv
"Slacker Moms" -- transgender -- tv
"Sissies and the City" -- transgender -- tv
"Paid in Full" -- transgender -- tv