Date: Tue, 22 Jan 2013 01:16:30 -0500
From: oberon ofavalon <oberon_52@hotmail.com>
Subject: Mr. Wallace and me (TG)

By Robin O.

My name is Bill. I'm just out of high school, and still living at home. I
had decided to take a year off before I went to college. I was tired of
studying, and being the best diver on our swimming team had been a lot of
pressure. I hadn't had time for much dating, and I was looking forward to
going off the diet that I've had to be on ever since I could remember and
taking a scissors to that tight rubber cap I had to wear over my blond
ponytail whenever I was in the pool.. I'm 5-7 and 132 pounds. The girls in
high school ignored me and my sex life consisted of playing with myself
while looking at Internet porn.

The only job I could find was as a night security guard at an old factory
in my small hometown. The factory used to be humming 24 hours a day, but
since the economy had tanked, there is only one shift, and I'm all by
myself overnight. It's such a nothing job that if I had to do it for more
than a year, I think I would go mad. My supervisor, Ted Wallace, has been
there for about 30 years, and I never met a bigger loser in my life. He's a
63-year-old former Marine, but you'd never know it by looking at him
now. His pockmarked face usually needs a shave, and it's almost always
scowling. He's about 6-4 and he's got to be pushing 285 pounds. He's on
duty every day when I come in, and he's a stickler for all the company
rules. Most of those rules don't make a lot of sense to me. I mean, it's
not like the Iranians are going to invade the factory any time soon. One of
those rules was to stay away from the company computers and just do my
rounds.

It took me only a few weeks before I found a computer in a corner of the
third floor where I could pass hours looking at porn. This wasn't such a
bad job after that.... until one evening when I came in to work, and there
was Mr. Wallace's fat face smugly smiling at me.

"C'mere, kid," he said, motioning to his computer monitor with a pudgy
hand. "I keep telling you how much you have to learn, and that includes
where all of our security cameras are located."

My eyes grew wide as I leaned in over where he was sitting, smelling his
sickly, pungent after-shave, which he must have had on him at least two
days based on the stubble on his face.What I saw on the tape from last
night almost made my heart stop.

There I was, sitting in front of the computer, my eyes half-open, my pants
and underpants around my ankles, my necktie very loose and my uniform shirt
unbuttoned. My left hand was pinching my right nipple, and my right was
around my slim, 4-inch circumsized penis.

I turned away from the screen, started to stammer, and tears were forming
in my eyes. I started to move away, but Mr. Wallace grabbed my wrist.

"No, Billy boy," the fat man said with a derisive laugh. "It's just getting
to the best part."

I almost couldn't see the screen through my tears as my slender little
penis erupted, my left hand preventing my cum from getting over the
computer. Mr. Wallace let go of my wrist, and I stumbled back.

"Now," he said, smiling widely enough for me to notice he was missing a
side tooth. I had never seen him smile before. "What should we do about
this, Billy boy? I should certainly have you fired. I could probably have
you arrested, too, for putting company equipment at risk. Of course, I'll
have to see that your parents see this tape. I've got it on my home
computer already. I'll almost certainly post it on Facebook."

I was literally shaking.

"Please, Ted ... Mr. Wallace, please ... not that. I'll never do it
again. I'll work extra hours for no pay. Please ... don't. Why would you do
this to me?"

He laughed again.

"Why, you little shit," he said, "do you think I'm stupid? I can tell every
time you come in to work that you think you're better than me, that I'm a
nothing guy in a nothing job."

My eyes almost shut as I tried to keep from crying, I slowly shook my head
"no," even as I knew he was right.

"I ... I'm sorry, Mr. Wallace."

He looked me up and down and smirked.

"I'll tell you what, Billy boy," he said. "I'll keep this our secret ... at
least for a while. We'll see how sorry you are. My house has been a mess
ever since my wife divorced me ... what has it been, 16 years now? Well,
from now on, every Saturday afternoon, you're gonna come over and clean my
house."

I brightened just a bit.

"That's it? I've just got to clean your house ... and you won't let anyone
else see the tape?"

"That's it," he said. "But I'm particular about how my house is
cleaned. You'll have to follow all my instructions when you're there. If
you don't, or if you miss one Saturday, the tape goes out to everyone."

He wrote his address on a piece of paper and told me to get there at 12:30
sharp before he picked up his things and left at the end of his shift.

The next two nights at work passed without more than a few words passing
between us as we met on our shifts, except I called him Mr. Wallace instead
of Ted, like I had been doing.

Finally, it was Saturday afternoon, and I told my parents I was spending
the day with friends. I found his double-wide trailer house in a lower
middle class neighborhood. Dressed in jeans, a T-shirt and sneakers, I rang
the bell. He opened the door in a bathrobe that was probably older than I
am. Somehow, he looked even bigger than he did at work, where he was mostly
sitting on his fat butt. The place reeked of cigar smoke, and there were
clothes and magazines and fast-food bags strewn around. There was a sink
full of dishes that probably weren't washed for weeks.

"Come in, Billy boy," he said expansively. "Five minutes early, I like
that."

He put his fat hand on the small of my back and led me to the bedroom door.

"Go in there and change," he said matter-of-factly.

"Change?" I asked, confused.

"Yeah," he said, his hand on my back urging me into the bedroom. "When you
clean my house, you're going to dress the way I want you to."

The bedroom was a dissheveled mess, but on the rumpled bed was a crisp,
blue house dress.

"You ... you can't be serious," I said.

Mr. Wallace sauntered, if a man that big and fat can saunter, over to his
bedroom computer, punched a few keys, and there I was on the screen showing
me beating off at work. His eyes were steely and mean.

"Oh, I'm serious, Billy boy," he said. "I'm dead serious. Now, you get out
of your clothes and put that dress on. No underwear, you understand? You
can go barefoot today. I'll be waiting in the living room. Snap it
up. You've got a lot of work to do."

After he left the room, my mind was in a haze. It's bad enough I have to
clean this fat, old man's pigsty, but in a dress? There wasn't anything I
could do about it, though, and I looked at myself in the bedroom's
full-length mirror as I took off my clothes. I don't have much body hair to
start with, and that I had I shaved because I was on the swimming and
diving team. Was this Mr. Wallace's method of humiliating me for my
attitude at work?

I pulled the dress over my head, and it eased down over my body, coming
down to a few inches above my knees. The built-in belt was snug but not too
snug on my concave waist. The elastic top of the dress had puffy sleeves
that just did cover my shoulders, and the scoop neck revealed a good deal
of my chest and my upper back, on which rested my blond ponytail. Swimming
and diving had given me a taut body and breasts that jutted out just a
little, giving me a hint of cleavage in the dress.

I looked in the mirror and had to admit that I looked pretty nice, but I
felt ridiculous. I walked out into the living room. Mr. Wallace was
sprawled on the couch in that ratty robe while watching football.

"Ah," he said. "you look very pretty."

I didn't say anything. I just stood there, mortified.

"You can start on the dishes, Billy," he said. "But first, fetch me a beer,
will you, honey?"

"Honey?" I thought. "Did he just call me 'honey?'"

I walked to the refrigerator and opened it. It smelled like something had
died in there. I took out a can of beer and brought it to him, humiliated
with each step I took in that dress. He looked up at me, then turned his
attention to the game. I was being dismissed to do my housework,
reinforcing my feminine role while the man of the house watched football.

I started on the huge pile of dishes, my mind in a whirl in the dress. In
about 10 minutes, Mr. Wallace called to me.

"Hey, Billy, he said, "fetch me another beer."

I stopped what I was doing, dried my hands on a towel and obediently
brought him another beer. He smiled that missing tooth grin at me, handed
me his empty beer can and said, "Thanks, hon."

A chill went through me. Something in me was pleased that I had pleased
him, and that bothered me.Walking back, I felt and heard the skirt of my
dress swishing. It made an interesting sound.

After I got through with the dishes, he told me to tidy up the living room
but not block his view of the game.

"Oh, and one other thing," he said, "every five minutes, I want you to go
into the bedroom and look at yourself in the mirror."

I could see what the bastard was up to. He wanted to keep reinforcing my
mental image of myself dressed as a girl. I was already arching my back
femininely and bending my knees rather than leaning over as I picked up
things around the couch so as not to block his view of the TV. When I
wasn't stopping what I'm doing to fetch him another beer, I was going into
the bedroom to look at myself in the mirror. For some reason, when I looked
in the mirror, I would adjust the dress or move a stray hair off my
forehead or some other little thing that would help me look a bit
better. When I walked back to the living room, for some reason my palms
faced forward and my shoulders were back

The living room needed vacuuming, but when I asked Mr. Wallace, he said he
didn't want the noise. He said I should go make the bed and pick up the
clothes in the bedroom, and not to forget about looking in the mirror every
few minutes.

I couldn't help moving differently in the dress than in my male
clothes. When I looked in the mirror, I had to admit that ... well ... I
was pretty. About a half hour later, the bed was made, the room was a bit
neater, and I was looking at myself in the full-length mirror when I heard
Mr. Wallace walk in behind me. I saw the fat slob in the mirror.

"You know, Billy, you really are pretty," he said as his fat hands went
around my tiny waist, "and you're a much better housemaid than you are a
security guard."

I wanted his hands off me, but then there was that tape.

I could feel his thick fingers fiddle with the rubber band holding my
ponytail, and then I felt it break and saw in the mirror as my blond hair
spread out over my shoulders and back. I heard Mr. Wallace's hard breathing
and felt his breath on my neck. His hands moved up from my waist to my
puffy sleeves, which he ever-so-slowly pulled just off my slender
shoulders. I started to tremble and breathe hard as I looked at this giant
in the mirror behind a sweet-looking ... yes ... girl.

My mind fought against this image. I'm a man, after all, and determined not
to react to the touch of this fat, ugly old man who is blackmailing me, no
matter what. But something about my shoulders being exposed made me feel so
vulnerable ... so feminine.

Mr. Wallace's robe came open. I could see a thick penis emerging from a
gray and black bush of pubic hair. Then he kissed my right shoulder
... just once, and a chill went through me.

"N----no," I said weakly.

Mr. Wallace's hands went to my bare shoulders as his mouth began kissing
and licking and nibbling my neck. I stood straight up, impassively, even as
my little penis got stiff in my dress. I hoped he didn't notice.

"Mr. Wallace ... please ... I ... I'm ... not interested."

Mr. Wallace just kept on his caressing my sensitive shoulders, licking,
kissing and nibbling my neck as I stood there hoping he would get
frustrated and give up.

But, he didn't stop.

"It's all right, Billy," he said as his pockmarked, stubby, fat face moved
my hair out of the way of his gentle assault. "We have the entire
afternoon."

I stood there, looking in the mirror as my old, fat supervisor just kept
kissing and nibbling my neck. I never knew my shoulders were so sensitive
until I felt his hands alternate between feathery touches and powerful
grasps. The seconds turned to minutes ... and the minutes dragged on. I
didn't realize it, but my shoulders began to shimmy just a bit, his gamey
after-shave making me a little dizzy as he kept up his assault on my neck.

I ... couldn't ... help ... it. His fat lips were giving me the chills. His
hands caressing my shoulders made me feel so ... so desired and ... yes,
feminine. I closed my eyes and tilted my head to give him more access to my
neck.

That little movement was apparently what he was waiting for. His robe fell
away, revealing his disgusting, hairy body. He intensified his assault,
pulling my hair back and biting my neck. His tongue traced my collar bone
as he twisted my body from behind. I cried out as he bent me over, my hands
reaching for his shoulders to keep myself from falling. His lips searched
for mine. I kept my lips shut tight, but he was insistent. My body went
limp in his grasp, and his thick lips moved on mine. Then, for the first
time in my life, there was a tongue in my mouth that wasn't mine.

I never felt like this before. In my mind, I was a pretty young girl being
despoiled by a fat, ugly, old brute.We kissed for minutes ... or maybe it
was hours. All I knew was that I was surrendering to the overwhelming girth
and power of my worthless boss in my nothing job. I was making little girly
noises as we kissed and I clung to Mr. Wallace's putrid body.

The look of utter triumph on his face made me ashamed, but still, I yearned
for his kiss, his hands on my chest and shoulders, my dress remaining on my
quivering body.

As his lips pressed against mine, he lifted me up, one thick arm under my
legs, the other behind my back. He lay me gently on the bed and raised my
arms to either side of my head, my palms femininely outward, my slender
bare shoulders shimmying slightly and revealing my desire.

Mr. Wallace stood diagonally over me, his fat, disgusting belly hanging
over his thick cock. I looked up at him, breathing hard, feeling like a
pretty, young girl in the clutches of an ugly, old monster. My mouth
silently mouthed one word of desire.

"Please ....?"

Mr. Wallace smiled much too confidently, bent over and lifted the skirt of
my dress, revealing my slender, erect, little penis.

"Damn, Billy," he said, "with that little excuse for a dick, you're better
off as a girl."

My face turned red, my wrists on either side of my head as he lowered his
face to my penis, My eyes grew wide as his thick lips encompassed my penis.

I groaned out loud. Then my body began to undulate.

He started sucking rapidly, and I hardly noticed as his middle finger
maneuvered its way slightly into my rectum. I was going to shoot any
second, but he lifted his sweaty face and smiled at me triumphantly.

"Want me to stop, Billy?"

I was lying there in this pretty dress. I had surrended myself to this
awful man I despised. I was so ashamed, but I had to cum. I just had to
cum.

"Please don't stop, Mr. Wallace."

He smiled again, actually more of a triumphant leer, his right hand digging
more into my bottom, his left slowly tracing over my chest, moving from one
bare shoulder to another, only touching what the dress made bare, ignoring
my nipples. His mouth, a minute ago on my penis, now covered my lips, his
tongue owning my pliant mouth.

He whispered.

Are you a pretty girl, Billy boy?

His finger now completely inside me, I nodded.

"Say it, Billy boy."

Mr. Wallace's finger pumped in and out of me. It felt like a baseball bat.

"I ... I'm ... I'm a ... pretty ... girl, Mr. Wallace.

Another leer, and the fat man was under my skirt again, my penis entirely
in his mouth, his finger pumping my bottom. Ten seconds later, my mind
dizzy, I cried out loudly as I exploded into Mr. Wallace's mouth. I didn't
feel like a boy. I felt like a girl ... a woman ... achieving the best
orgasm of my life.His finger pounding away at my rectum, I finally eased
back ... limp, moaning contentedly, luxuriously, slowly shimmying my bare
shoulders. Mr. Wallace removed his finger. His enormous body covered mine
as his hands gripped my shoulders. His mouth covered mine, his mouth
maneuvering mine open. I was too weak to resist. To my horror, I felt my
own cum sliding into my mouth. The bastard had saved it to feed to me. I
tried to struggle, but his weight on me and his thick hands on my shoulders
made it impossible.

He kissed me, rubbing his cum-covered tongue over mine for several minutes
before collapsing atop me. Long minutes passed until he woke up. Was he
going to fuck me. The big man rolled off me, breathing hard.

"Go get dressed, Billy," he said.

I slowly removed my gown and dressed in my male clothes. It felt a little
weird. I kinda missed the dress.

"Y'know," I said, "I don't mind staying and tidying the place up some
more."

The big, old man got up and pulled my hair sharply, walking me rapidly to
the door. He bit my neck one last time, then opened the door and shoved me
out.

"I'll see you at work Monday,: he snarled. "And next Saturday, Billy, Don't
even think about being late coming over here."

(To be continued.)