Date: Fri, 5 Nov 2010 20:57:12 -0500
From: Amber Fountaine <amber_fountaine@hotmail.com>
Subject: Brandi's Story

	Amber Fountaine stories contain sexually explicit descriptions of
consensual sexual activity and are not suitable for reading by anyone under
the age of 18, or anyone offended by reading such material. These acts
include gay and bisexual activity as well as any combination of piss play,
diapers, cross-dressing, sissified adults, and other fetishes and
perversions that may please the author's whims. The characters in these
stories are fictional, but are based on the author's true experiences, as
well as the experiences of others that he has met. Every attempt to conceal
these identities has been made.
	These stories are placed in Nifty for the enjoyment of its readers
and are not to be copied and/or distributed without the approval of the
author.
	This is the second in a series of short stories that are true
stories as related to me over the last 35+ years that I have enjoyed
meeting others that share my interests. Every time I've met or corresponded
with someone I've made a point to ask how they developed their interest and
I've used combinations of those stories, along with my own experiences, to
create much of what I've previously written. However that was when I had
more time to do so. With less time available to me, for this series I'll
relate the more interesting sexual biographies as I remember them. And
since I change the names anyway, what I'll do for this series is put them
in alphabetical order rather than by chapter.


					Brandi's Story
				as told by Amber Fountaine

	My life changed a few days after my 12th birthday. And at the time
it happened, I wasn't even sure I knew the name of the girl that changed
it.
	We lived in a housing addition on the outskirts of town, about a
half-mile past a new shopping center. Sometimes my mom would ask me to go
to the store for her and she didn't like for me to take my bike out on the
highway. The alternative was to walk all the way around a large wooded
area, or cut through from our subdivision to the shopping center. As you
can imagine, it didn't take long for a kid my age to strike a path through
the woods. And because of that, I happened on something that made me
curious.
	I was nearing the shopping center when I heard a woman's voice
holler, "Hurry!" It was coming from the direction I was headed and instead
of hurrying, it made me stop. About that time I saw a girl who appeared to
be not much older than me run into the woods just far enough that she was
mostly hidden from the shopping center parking lot and then turn behind
some shrubby brush. She was wearing a plaid, pleated skirt, much like the
girls at my school wore when school was in session, and had just hiked it
up in back when I heard her make a weird noise - sort of a mix of a soft
cry and a moan - and she froze in position. I'd never seen anyone of any
age or gender act like that.
	As silently as possible, I moved closer to see what her problem
might be and to my amazement, she was standing, knees bent in a
semi-crouch, and pissing in her panties. From my new vantage point, no more
than fifty feet away, I had no problem seeing the stream of yellow piss
pouring out of the crotch of her pink panties.
	My initial reaction was a muffled snicker. There'd been a time or
two in my past when I'd held it, thinking I'd make it home or someplace,
and misjudged, wetting my pants. So to see someone else, in this case an
older girl, wet her panties because she hadn't gone to the bathroom when
she should have, was sort of cathartic. It made me wish the boys that
teased me all the time were there to witness this if only to draw their
attention away from me. Maybe I should explain that.
	My name is Brandon Hardwood. My folks had me enrolled in a small
private school since kindergarten and I'd already skipped one
grade. Because the school was more concerned about segregating the students
by sex than age, the only time I was around girls was before and after
school when our parents dropped us off or picked us up. The rest of the
time I was rubbing shoulders with boys from six to eighteen and as a young
nerd and a momma's boy, you can imagine the sort of teasing the older boys
gave me. Add in a last name like "Hardwood" and it was even worse.
	The first time I remember being teased about my name had been in
second grade. I had no idea what the older boys were talking about so I
went home that night and at the supper table asked my dad why the older
boys called me sissy and offered to let me play with their 'hard wood' and
would rub their crotches and fall out laughing at me. Instead of an
explanation, my dad took me to school the next day where we met with the
Dean and I had to point out the boys that had teased me. Of course they got
in trouble and I thought that was kind of neat until a couple of days
later, on a Friday afternoon after school, when a coat was thrown over my
head from behind, and I was beaten and kicked for being a snitch. I was so
sore that I could barely move for three days. They told me that if I told
anyone I'd been beaten again, the next one would be ten times as bad. If
anyone asked, I was to say I'd been playing rugby, a new sport at our
school, with some older boys and had come out the worse for it.
	What I learned from that experience was that I should accept the
teasing and if I had any questions, it was better to ask one of the older
boys instead of my parents. As a result, I had a much better understanding
of sex than most boys my age, since that seemed to be the favorite topic of
conversation among the older boys who were already in puberty.
	My only ally at the time was another sissy type boy in my class
named Richard Adams and because his folks insisted he be called, "Dickie,"
he got as much teasing as I did. Being buddies seemed to add to the teasing
exponentially with us constantly being taunted about me playing with
Dickie's dick and Dickie accused of making my wood hard since that was what
sissies like us loved to do. Of course Dickie and I both understood that
playing with each other's penis was supposed to be a bad thing to do, and
we had no intention of doing anything like that, but it was pointless to
explain that to the older boys.
	In addition, Dickie and I had confided in each other that sometimes
our little pricks would get hard for no reason and we both swore it wasn't
because we played with them ourselves; something else we were often teased
about. It seemed to be the consensus of the older boys that Dickie and I
spent all our free time either playing with our own pricks or each
others. And typical of a boy that age, I'd tried playing with mine to see
what all the fuss was about, and had considered the whole activity to be a
foolish waste of time.
	So you can imagine how amazed I was to see a girl peeing in her
panties, and confused as to why watching that was making my prick get
hard. Even worse, it gave me a funny feeling, almost like I had a fever
that seemed to come over my whole body. Then, to my further amazement, when
the girl finished peeing, instead of dropping her skirt and going back to
whoever was waiting on her, she took off the wet panties and carefully put
then across one of the bigger branches of the bush, like she was laying
them out to dry. Then she ran back to the shopping center parking lot and
disappeared around a corner of a building.
	I think I stood there in awe, barely breathing, and wondering why
my heart was throbbing like I'd been running laps at school. I speculated
on my erection and why seeing a girl pee had made it hard. Did that mean I
had to pee too even though my bladder didn't feel full? Sometimes in the
morning when I had to pee my pecker would be hard. Yet I knew I had to wait
for it to soften before I could pee, so that didn't make sense. In fact,
none of it made sense, but I knew who to talk to about it. I made a bee
line to Dickie's house.
	"You saw her bare ass," Dickie concluded after I'd told him about
it. "That's always supposed to make a guy get hard."
	"But it got hard when she was peeing in her panties," I
countered. "Isn't that weird?"
	"Maybe you really are a pervert like Jason said and that's why you
stole the panties."
       I knew he was just teasing. Jason Miller was one of our biggest
antagonists. His latest nickname for us, given to us just before the summer
break, had been, "The Dork Duo," and Dickie was now called "Prickie" and I
was "Brandy" instead of Brandon. The previous Saturday I'd been at
Dillard's with my mom and had run into one of the older boys who'd
hollered, "Hey Brandy - is your mommy going to buy you some new dresses?"
       "I didn't steal the panties," I told him again. "She threw them
away."
       "The first time you told me she laid them on a bush to dry. I'll bet
she was coming back for them. Did you see her bush? If it was really Kathy
Miller I'll bet she has one. Think how hard you would have gotten if you'd
seen that!"
       I decided that Dickie wasn't going to be any help and put the
panties, which had long since dried, back in my pocket. "Maybe next time
that Kathy Miller babysits me, I'll show her the panties and see if she
wants them back. Maybe she'll put them on while I watch." That was really
pushing my imagination. While it had looked like it might possibly have
been Kathy Miller, that was as much wishful thinking as anything. Kathy
just happened to be the only young and attractive female in my life so of
course she was at the top of my fantasy life too.
       "Yeah. Fat chance. You're probably keepin' them 'cause you want to
wear them yourself and pee in them like she did."
       Now I'm not saying the idea had never occurred to me, but at that
moment, the second he said it, I knew I was going to do it. Since I was an
only child and my parents worked, finding time and privacy to do it was not
a problem. However as unlikely as it was that anyone would ever know, I
thought the last thing I needed was to give the older boys more reasons to
tease and taunt me. I was sure that wearing girl's panties and peeing in
them would be something I could never live down. As a result, it was a
couple of days after I'd acquired those panties before I got up the courage
and used them as Kathy had done. And while I'd had the house to myself all
day that day and it would have been much easier to do standing in the
bathtub, I put on the panties, wore them under my shorts, and stood in
exactly the same spot near the shopping center to wet them.
       I'm not sure what I expected. I do remember thinking as I watched
the wet spot on my shorts become large and very visible; that peeing had to
be the main reason women wore dresses and that wearing a skirt would be
easier for boys too. And I was pleasantly surprised by how good it felt to
have that warm piss spread throughout my crotch. But when my bladder was
empty, all I could think of was - now what?
       Walking home through the woods with visibly wet shorts wasn't a
problem. But there were two blocks to travel when I got to my subdivision
and there was no telling who I might run into. I also remember thinking
that next time, I either had to take off my shorts or find someplace else
to wet myself. I don't recall that I considered for a moment the
possibility of not peeing in those panties again. In fact, as I walked
slowly though the woods, willing the wind to dry my shorts yet getting a
thrill from walking around in piss soaked clothes, I began to think of
other ways I could try wetting myself that would be less of a
problem. Ironically, it was Kathy Miller that once again contributed to my
next step into life-long sissy-dom and not just my fantasy Kathy Miller.
       Kathy was my mom's favorite babysitter. And while I was at that age
where I was beginning to resent needing a 'baby' sitter and my mom now
referred to her only as ,'the sitter,' I did like Kathy. So I was looking
forward to her next sitting job.
       My mom had read some book about marital relationships and had
decided that she and my dad had to have a 'date' of some sort every
weekend. It seemed kind of hokey to me and I suspect my dad felt the same
way, but as he explained to me later in life when I was about to take a
wife of my own, "When Momma's happy, everyone is happy." I'm just surprised
my mom didn't make him drive around the block and then come back and ring
the doorbell to pick her up.
       Anyway, when their next 'date' rolled around, I wondered how or if I
could or should tell Kathy that I had a pair of panties that might be
hers. For one thing, I wasn't 100% certain that it was her I saw. When the
girl in the woods had walked toward me, I was further away and behind some
trees. By the time I got close enough that I could have been sure, she had
her back to me and never really turned completely in my direction when she
finished. However there was one moment, just as she was walking off, and I
was walking toward where she'd peed, that I stepped on a branch and it made
enough noise that she turned to look in my direction. I'd frozen in place,
mostly hidden behind the same bush where she'd peed, and after a glance,
she kept going. She looked back a second time just before she went around
the corner of the building, smiling, but never stopped.
       When Kathy showed up - she lived just a few doors down the street -
she gave me no reason to suspect there was anything unusual about to
happen. But about an hour after my folks had gone, while we were watching
some show on TV, she suddenly asked, "Brandon, what did you do with the
panties you picked up in the woods?"
       If she'd been a little less direct, I might have been able to play
dumb. But she hadn't given me any wiggling room at all. She hadn't asked if
I had them, making that fact a given. She just wanted to know what I'd done
with them. In a voice that was little more than a quivering whisper, I told
her, "They're in my room."
       I waited for the verbal abuse that I was sure was coming and
wondered what would happen to me after she told my mom and dad. Instead, to
my utter amazement, she asked, "Have you been having fun with them?"
       Not knowing how she might mean that, I glanced up at her from where
my eyes had been burning holes in the carpet to discover she was smiling at
me. So she had seen me for sure, but wasn't mad about it. Somewhat relieved
and hoping maybe she wouldn't tell my folks about it, I nodded and told
her, "yes." I wasn't about to tell her what I'd been doing, but it
definitely fell under the category of, "having fun." I'd wet them three
times in the last five days and the previous night, had worn the wet
panties under my pajamas to bed.
       "I didn't think you were old enough to do that yet."
       Dickie and I had recently learned about masturbation, or jacking
off, or spanking the monkey, or any of the other phrases the older boys
called it. And it was our old nemesis Jason that, after taunting us about
playing with ourselves and each other, had added, "Just teasing guys. You
little babies aren't old enough to do that yet." Dickie and I had consulted
on that and surmised that maybe we should try it just once to see if we
were old enough, since it seemed to be the only way to tell if we'd reached
that magical stage of our development. But since we had no idea exactly how
a guy was supposed to jack off, we'd let it slide. But at least I was
pretty sure I knew what Kathy had meant.  "I'm not - I mean I don't - can't
. . ." As much as I hated to say the words, I told her, "I'm not old
enough."
       Now she was really smiling at me. "Have you tried?"
       I shook my head and bashfully told her, "I don't know how."
       "Well you said you'd been having fun with my panties. If you weren't
using them to play with your peter, what were you doing?"
       By now I was starting to glow beet red. "I . . . wet them," Then to
make it sound a little less ominous, I added, reminding her, "Like you
did."
       "So you've put them on and wet them?"
       I nodded. "Yeah," I whispered.
       "Do you like wearing my panties?"
       Again I nodded, unable to speak.
       "Which do you like more - wearing the panties or wetting them?"
       That was the kind of question I had to answer, yet I really didn't
have one. All three times I'd worn them, I'd had them on for a while before
I wet them and each time I'd let the nylon material dry out while I still
had them on. I really liked the way it felt when I let my bladder go, but I
also enjoyed the way they felt - so different than the jockey shorts I was
used to. I gathered up the courage to answer, "I kinda like both."
       She move to sit beside me on the couch and I wasn't sure if she
intended to take me over her knee and spank me like my mom had a time or
two. What I for sure didn't expect was for her to put her arm around my
shoulder and tell me, "Me too."
       Stunned, I listened silently as she told me about the day I'd seen
her wet her panties and how she'd been near my age before it was safe for
her to go to bed without a diaper and that sometimes, just for fun, if she
woke up dry she'd wet the diaper on purpose because she thought it felt
super good.
       "Were you still in diapers when I first started sitting for your
folks? Your mom always had you in your pajamas already so I wouldn't have
known."
       I told her that I almost couldn't remember being in diapers and that
I'd had an accident or two, wetting the bed at night once in awhile, but
that my mom had never suggested putting me back in diapers.
       "Would you like to try it? My little brother is still in diapers and
sometimes I take one of his to wet it. I could bring some with me next time
I sit for you. It would be a lot more fun to baby sit you if I could make
you my baby."
       If I hadn't already had a huge crush on Kathy Miller, I sure did
from that moment on.
       Then we talked about underwear and how much prettier everything was
that they made for girls and since I was kind of a sissy anyway, she said
I'd be foolish if I didn't enjoy wearing pretty things and offered to go
shopping with me if I'd like to get some more things to go with the panties
she was happy to let me keep. She made it sound like I was lucky to be a
sissy and not have to try to act like one of the showoff boys, insisting I
go to my room and put on the panties and my pajamas so we could talk like
she talked with her girlfriends.
       It was totally awesome. At the same time we were talking about me
being a baby and a sissy and dressing like a little girl, she was making me
feel more like a grownup than I'd ever felt before. Before long, we were
talking about sex and boys and her explanations made a lot more sense to me
than anything my dad had tried to tell me or that I'd picked up from guys
at school.
       That began a period of two and a half years that are pretty much the
foundation of the adult I became. Sometimes Kathy would diaper me and make
me her baby girl. At other times, like when she'd invite me to come over to
her house when her folks were gone, she'd dress me up as Brandi and I'd get
to be her little sister for a few hours. I was learning how to be feminine
and a girl's prospective on sex and it was all good!
       I passed along the things I was learning from Kathy to Dickie, and
when school began again Dickie let part of my secret out, starting the
rumor that I had an older girl teaching me about sex. I became an instant
hero. It's crazy how that works out sometimes. I went from supreme sissy to
class stud. Of course I left out the parts about Kathy putting me in
diapers and going shopping with me so that I could buy the lingerie I had
hidden in my bedroom that I would wear when I jacked off - something else
Kathy had taught me to do.
       It didn't take many diapering sessions with Kathy, and her playing
with my little prick each time, before I wanted to take some of that baby
oil and play with it myself. And it didn't take many of those manual
stimulation sessions before I'd produced my first emission.
       Eventually Dickie learned about Brandi and instead of being upset,
insisted he wanted to see Brandi dressed up. I needed Kathy's help for that
and when I told her what Dickie wanted, she suggested that what he really
wanted was to have sex with me. That surprised me since he and I had always
insisted that we weren't really anything like what the older boys teased us
about. I didn't want to argue with Kathy, but I was almost certain she had
to be wrong about that one.
       Now maybe if I'd phrased it different, things would have turned out
different. But I didn't. Instead of asking Dickie why he was so anxious to
see me dressed as Brandi, in the usual blunt fashion I'd learned from my
dad, I asked, "Do you want to have sex with me?"
       That sounded to him much more like an invitation than a question and
I was so stunned when he said, "Sure," and began undressing, that I didn't
stop him.
       Suddenly I had a naked boy in my bedroom. Since we'd been in
pajamas, that hadn't taken but an instant. All the things I'd learned from
Kathy, plus all the things she'd said she wanted to do when she had a
boyfriend, rushed through my mind. Only recently Kathy had given me my
first hand-job while diapering me. She didn't believe me when I told her I
could cum so instead of just oiling my cock and playing with it for a
minute or so, she kept at it. It wasn't the first time she'd played with my
dick - just the first time to make me cum.
       Her little brother was out of diapers by then and I'd had to buy my
own and keep them hidden in my Boy Scout backpack – the last place I
figured my folks might ever look for something. From the first time she'd
diapered me, she'd made a point of playing with my pecker, but had never
done more than that. Ironically, at the same time she was diapering me and
treating me like her baby, we'd be having a much more grown up
conversation, with her telling me about some boy at school and how handsome
she thought he was and how he always got a bulge in his pants when he
talked to her and things like that. I'm sure she shared secrets with some
real girlfriends, but I was one of the first to hear about it when she
played with her boyfriend's cock for the first time. And later, when one of
her friends bragged about giving a guy a blowjob, we talked about that at
length and how she'd like to do that for a boy if she really, really liked
him, and how she wasn't sure if it was better to swallow or spit, that the
girls she knew didn't all agree on that.
       Now, with Dickie standing naked before me, his young cock painfully
erect, it looked like the only decision I had to make was how far I wanted
to go. I knew he wanted me to dress up for him, but all I had at home were
the diapers, five panties, and one nightgown. So quickly I put on panties
and the nightgown and almost immediately, Dickie hugged me and began to rub
his naked body against the nylon of the gown, telling me how good it
felt. I thought his hard dick rubbing against mine through the material of
the lingerie felt damn good too! Then I realized that if I didn't do
something with that hard dick of Dickie's, that he'd be cumming all over my
gown - if he could cum yet. I'd cum for the first time less than a month
earlier and had no idea if Dickie could do it yet or not. But I did know
that this was my opportunity to get up close and personal with a hard
boy-cock and dropped to my knees for a closer look.
	"Oh shit, you're gonna suck it, that's awesome!" I heard him moan.
	Actually, I hadn't even touched it yet, but he'd assumed when I
knelt before him that sucking his cock was my intention - and everything
considered, maybe sub-consciously it was. My conversations with Kathy had
made me think about doing it. We'd discussed boy's cocks and whether
circumcised or un-circumcised was better. Since mine was cut, I told her
that I thought I'd prefer a boy that was cut too and she'd asked if Dickie
was. So most of those visualizations, of `Brandi' playing with and sucking
a cock, had been of Dickie. Now I had my chance and there wasn't any more
hesitation.
       His prick was about the same length as the width of my hand so while
I wanted to feel it, I knew there wasn't enough Dickie dick that I could
hold it and suck it too. I held it between two fingers for a moment, just
to see if his felt any different than mine, He was so hard it was
twitching, almost like it was a finger motioning for me to, "come here." In
one movement I leaned forward and took the whole thing in my mouth. Like
me, his prick wasn't much bigger than my thumb, so sucking in the entire
cock, all the way to his bare pubes, was possible. Thankfully, Kathy's
remark about it being silly that they called it a blowjob when you were
really supposed to suck had been in my mind each time I'd fantasized about
doing it, so I began immediately to suck Dickie's dick, taking it all the
way in, and then sucking like it was a hard, fleshy popsicle as I pulled
off it. Then I'd flick the head with my tongue the way Kathy played with
the head of mine with her finger, and do it again.
        Suddenly Dickie grabbed my head to stop me, moaned almost as if I'd
hurt him, and with no experience in sucking cock, I worried that maybe I
had. Then he pulled away and told me, "That was awesome. You can be my
girlfriend any time."
       If he'd cum in my mouth, it hadn't been enough for me to notice. But
we were definitely bonded as never before. And the timing was perfect. As
Kathy became less interested in being my baby sitter and turning me into
her baby sister - she was beginning to get popular at school and dated a
lot - Dickie was there to take her place. And since Kathy wasn't available
that much anyway, and I was getting older, my folks decided I probably
didn't need a baby sitter and agreed that when they went out, I could have
Dickie spend the night with me. As I said, it was perfect timing.
       When I told Dickie all the details about how Kathy had made me her
sissy baby sister, he wanted to try it too, as well as returning the favor
of sucking my cock. It was as great a puberty as I could imagine a boy
experiencing. We didn't grow tired of it until we were both in high school
and dating girls and the only time I ever came close to being caught was
when I was at the drug store buying diapers for Dickie and me, and one of
my mom's friends walked up behind me just as I was taking the diapers out
of the shopping cart and putting them on the check-out counter. I know I
had to be blushing but she didn't say anything. I guess she assumed I was a
bed-wetter and didn't want to embarrass me any more than I already was. I
was sure my mom was going to question me about it, and I had a story ready
about a friend's mom asking me to run to the store for her, but I never
heard a word.
       After that, I decided that maybe I'd really gotten too old for
playing in diapers, but I was for sure hooked on playing in girl's clothes
and there was another bit of irony involved with that. Dickie and I were
fifteen, going on sixteen, when we decided after what had been four
wonderful years, that we should stop dressing as sissies and sucking each
other off all the time. I threw a few things away, but kept one blouse,
skirt, nightgown, bra, some falsies, and a couple of pair of panties and
used them to entertain myself at home. And I guess, since I wasn't trying
to be so secretive, as I had been when I'd been having sex with Dickie, I
got a little too casual about hiding my feminine wardrobe and my mom found
it.
       "Care to explain that?" she asked, pointing at the box on the bed.
As soon as I'd come home from going to a Saturday football game, and my mom
told me she wanted to talk to me in that voice that meant all was not well,
I knew I had a problem. Then when she'd had me follow her to my room, I was
sure I knew why. Seeing my box of girl's clothes sitting open on my bed had
confirmed my worst fears.
       Fortunately, more than once Dickie had asked me what was I going to
tell my folks if they found my 'Brandi' clothes and I had a story
prepared. As casually as possible, considering my legs were shaky and I was
sweating like a race horse, I told her that it was a bunch of things that
Kathy had given me for a skit back in middle school and I'd never gotten
around to throwing them out.
       "You needed a nightgown for a school skit?"
       I shrugged. "I don't know why that's in there," I lied, hoping she
hadn't noticed the numerous stains on the front of the gown. "I guess she
just put a bunch of things together that she didn't need."
       There was a long pause as she gave me that look that told me she
didn't believe a word of it but all she said was, "Then you won't be
needing any of that stuff and it's okay for me to throw it out?"
       "Oh sure," I told her as enthusiastically as I could manage since I
was about to cry. I'd gotten big enough by then that I was busting the
seams on everything but the nightie, and it was getting tight, yet I still
hated to see it go. But at least I was off the hook.
       What made that really so ironic was that it didn't take long for me
to miss those well used items when I jacked off and for the first time I
went looking at my mom's clothes as a substitute. Maybe Dickie didn't want
to dress up as "Darla" anymore, but I couldn't stop being Brandi - at least
not completely - until I was out of junior college.
       I may have looked like a geek, but I didn't have 'geek' classroom
skills, with the exception of being pretty good with computers. However
mechanical things came easy to me and I went through a two-year program at
a local junior college and got an associate degree for working on power
generators. I got hired right out of school by an oil company and after a
few months in the oil field, got to transfer to an off-shore crew. My folks
convinced me that it was foolish to rent an apartment since I'd be out at
the rig more than I'd be home and let me keep my old room at minimal rent.
       Now who would ever guess that in the very masculine environment of
an off-shore oil rig that I'd discover that Brandi had a kindred spirit. We
weren't one of the super size rigs, but the importance of maintaining
electrical power meant that there were three electricians and three power
generation mechanics on the rig, working in rotating 12 hour
shifts. Because of that, I was working, or off duty, at all hours of the
day and night. We had several computers on the rig and a satellite hookup
for guys to check their email, contact their families, or more likely, to
look at porn. It wasn't at all unusual for a guy to spend a half-hour or so
at the computer, and then make a bee-line to a toilet stall. I guess
because everyone did it, there wasn't any serious teasing about it. I mean,
there was a lot of joking about it, but not like the kind that I'd endured
from the older boys when I'd been going to that private school. As the new
man, for the first couple of months, I caught the most, but it was all in
good fun and by then there were other guys newer and I was left alone.
       As I said, I'm pretty good with computers and in fact, my partner
and I now own a computer sales and repair business, but this was back in
the late nineties. One night, while browsing through one of the computers
that was used by all of us in rig maintenance; I discovered someone had
gone to an e-group site for cross-dressers. I thought sure someone had
stumbled on it by accident, but when I looked closer, I found that whoever
it was had opened several pages on the site. The flush of excitement that
came over me, after a couple of years of very limited fun with one pair of
panties, was incredible. It was like a hot flash and cold chills at the
same time.
       "WHO?" I asked myself silently a dozen times. I tried to think of
anyone I'd met on the rig that seemed to be in any way effeminate and not a
single one of the guys seemed to stand out to me. Hoping to find a clue, I
dug into the computer more closely and then began to map out a plan. Every
time I got on the computer, I cleared the history cache and over the next
couple of weeks, prior to my rotation, I was able to narrow the
possibilities down to maybe a dozen guys and on closer look, a few might
possibly have a feminine side. However, every one of them seemed capable of
rearranging my dental work if I suggested they might be the guy I was
looking for. Then I hit on a better idea.
       When I was home the next time, I used my computer in my bedroom to
join the same cross-dressing group and began putting in messages about how
I worked off-shore and spent most of my two weeks at home dressed as Brandi
and how I'd love to meet a man. I told the group that being around all
these masculine men for a month got me so horny and that my fantasy was to
be a bunkhouse slut for them so that they'd never have to jack off
again. As you might imagine, I got a lot of responses, wishing me well and
telling me what a great fantasy I had, but it was six weeks later before I
got the response I was looking for.
       "Drill_me_deeply" sent me a message saying that he too worked
offshore and had just gotten home and would be spending the next two weeks
dressed as `Charlene' and that if I was anywhere close to Victoria, Texas,
maybe we could meet sometime. I knew exactly who it was, even though he'd
given me the name of an entirely different rig and company as the one where
he worked.
       One of the men I worked with, a supervisor, was the rig systems
engineer. One of his jobs was seeing to it that our generators were capable
of providing the power we needed and working with the electricians to see
that the loads were evenly distributed. He was about ten years older than
me, and like me had been with the company since he'd graduated - in his
case from Tulane University in New Orleans. He'd taken courses in
electrical engineering, petroleum engineering, and mechanical engineering,
and had done an internship with the company that had built our rig. I'd
spent hours chatting with the guy when we'd worked the same shift late at
night and had nothing to do for a couple of hours. He had a Cajun last name
- one of those that aren't pronounced at all like it's spelled - and, oh by
the way, his first name was Charlie.
       I also knew he was single, had a girlfriend that he suspected saw
other men when he was gone, and while he was originally from a small town
outside New Orleans, that he now lived by himself on a small family farm
near Schroeder, Texas, a very small town about 15-20 miles from
Victoria. The farm belonged to a widowed aunt and the one large pasture was
leased out to a neighbor. Charlie lived in the old farmhouse to make his
aunt happy and the same guy that leased the pasture looked in on the place
when Charlie was out at the rig.
       "I live a little ways out of town," he wrote in one message and in
another he told me he had privacy at home to dress as he pleased. So I
wrote back, giving him, over the course of four emails, a pretty accurate
account of how I'd become "Brandi" and all about my early sexual
experiences. I tried to remember what I'd told Charlie when we'd talked. I
wanted him to suspect it might be me, but not be sure. However when he
wrote back to tell me that he'd discovered the cross-dressing world while a
college student in New Orleans, there was no doubt in my mind that Charlie
was Charlene, aka. "drill_me_deeper".
       Over the next week we chatted - sometimes three or four times a day,
about our preferences in lingerie, and what we happened to be wearing at
the moment. He told me that he'd never tried wearing diapers, but had a
friend in college that was big into piss play and he liked to do things
like that. One of the things he told me was that he loved pink lacy
panties. I had just enough time to buy some before I had to go back out to
the rig and I was ready for him when he came out a week later.
       I was really nervous keeping those panties hidden, waiting for the
right opportunity, even though I had them in a small sealed envelop. A
couple of times I caught Charlie looking at me and I'd smile, getting one
in return. Finally, after more than a week, the time was right. I was just
about to go off shift when Charlie told me he was going to his desk to log
some reports. As soon as I got to my locker, I grabbed the envelope, went
to where his cubicle was, and after being sure no one else was around,
handed him the envelop.
       He looked at me, puzzled, and asked, "What's this?"
       Fighting back the fear that seemed to be choking my throat, I told
him, "Brandi thought you might like these." As soon as I said it, I turned
and fled.
       The next time I saw Charlie was when I went to lunch the next
day. He saw me first and was smiling when I looked in his direction. Then
to my surprise, he very discretely winked at me. Later that day I found an
envelope marked, "B. Hardwood" in my box when I went to check mail.
       Inside was a thank you note from "Charlene" and a chastisement for
giving her something she loved so much and didn't dare wear for nearly
three weeks. And at the bottom, was a note to tell me we'd be working
together Tuesday night and that she was looking forward to having time to
talk to me.
       That talk was another eye opener. The first few minutes were almost
humorous as we both were as nervous as a high school kid on his first
date. There was always that very slim chance that the other person had put
together an elaborate trap. The company we worked for had a policy for off
shore personnel complete with special rules and regulations. One of the top
reasons a person could be discharged was what they called "Inappropriate
Sexual Conduct" and there were no specifics as to what was
inappropriate. It was pretty much understood, though not written anywhere,
that any sort of homosexual activity, including solicitation, would be
reason enough to be fired. But within minutes, our stilted conversation
turned to gushing like two school girls and our feminine side had come
blazing through. If we hadn't been dressed in our work clothes, we might
have really been camping it up.
       Then, almost out of the clear blue, while we'd alluded to sex, we
hadn't discussed it in any sort of detail and I was taken back for a moment
when Charlie asked if I'd ever had sex with a man when I wasn't dressed. I
told him that like I'd said in our earlier emails, I'd never had sex with a
man, only with my friend Dickie ten years earlier and that we'd done it a
few times when I wasn't dressed as Brandi, but we both liked it better when
I was.
       Then he dropped the bomb on me. He told me there were a few very
discrete individuals that enjoyed a little bisexual contact and that the
only reason he'd been accepted had been because one of the participants had
recognized 'Charlene' from his days in New Orleans and how Charlene had
been created with the help of a girl in his teens, then put aside until
he'd turned twenty and had moved to the big city for college.  He told me a
few more details of how he'd picked up a girl at a party during his
sophomore year at Tulane and how the girl had turned out to be a guy that
worked part-time as a drag queen. He'd admitted before that he'd had some
desire to try sucking a cock going back to when he'd admired some of his
classmates in the gym showers when he'd been in high school. So when he'd
discovered the girl had a cock in her panties, he hadn't hesitated to
fulfill that fantasy. Within six months "Charlene Chanel" had joined
"Melinda Moore" as an entertainer at a popular New Orleans nightclub that
catered to the transgendered and their admirers. Then he added with a huge
smile, "There were lot's of horny admirers and they paid well."
       He went on to give me a "good news and bad news" sort of thing. The
good news was that there were several of us guys that were bisexual on the
rig and Charlie guessed there were several more that were as yet unknown to
each other. One of them that he knew about was 'Pug' Williams, the top man
on the rig, and that really surprised me. The bad news was that while Pug
saw nothing wrong with a guy helping a horny buddy out with a blowjob or
piece of ass, he was adamant that he didn't want any "sissy boys" on his
rig. "Sounds silly I know," Charlie told me. "It's okay to suck all the
pricks we want as long as we don't get caught. But pretty pink panties like
the ones you gave me - thanks again - are against Pug's rules. For me, that
takes a lot of the fun out of it."
       "Me too," I told him. "Maybe all of the fun out of it. It's been
several years since I've done it, but I've fantasized about it and in every
fantasy, I was dressed as Brandi. I guess I could do it if I wasn't
dressed, but I don't think I'd want to."
       "And you might want to get to know Ron Hastings."
       I did know Ron, but not well. He was one of the medical team on the
rig and since I'd never been sick or hurt myself in any way, the only time
I'd spoken to him had been in passing or if we happened to be eating at the
same table. Before I could ask Charlie why I should get to know Ron, he
told me.
       "I showed Ron those panties you gave me and he's jealous. He said
they're exactly like a pair he bought his wife and hasn't had a chance to
wear yet. Ron has a real problem getting to dress as Rhonda because his
wife doesn't approve. He's an old friend of Ashley and Betty, the couple
from San Antonio that visit me when I'm home, and sometimes Rhonda can get
away for a day to join us. But he's only a few miles from you and he's on
the same rotation you are."
       "Does he know I'm the one that gave you the panties?"
       "No. We're pretty damn discrete about things like that. First I had
to get his permission to tell you about Rhonda, and now if it's okay with
you, I'll tell him about Brandi."
       I nodded and assured him it was okay. But there was one question he
hadn't answered and more out of curiosity than need, I asked, "So where
. . . I mean how do the guys you've mentioned find privacy to . . ."
"Right there is one," he told me, indicating a store room for blueprints
and wiring and plumbing diagrams. "When Ron is here, he'll let a couple of
guys use the infirmary while he watches, and there are a couple of other
spots. Most of the time three guys make a date to meet at a certain time
and the time makes a difference on where they go to get together. One guy
stands watch while the other two have fun and then the guy standing watch
takes a turn with one of the other two. By the way, one of the guys that
loves to get blown is Thumper. Bet that surprised you."
       He was right about that. The guy we called "Thumper" was John
something and he got the nickname because he was a bible thumper. You could
talk to the guy about the weather and a minute later he's telling you that
God creates weather and segues from there into salvation. "Isn't he
married? The one time I talked to him at breakfast one day, he was telling
me how important the bonds of matrimony were in God's eyes."
       "Adultery in Thumper's eyes means he doesn't even think about
fucking anyone but his wife, but dumping a load in some other guy's mouth
doesn't bother him at all."
       I had to laugh about that. There'd been a story in that
cross-dressing e-group from a guy that said he went to TV's for sex because
his wife wasn't into sucking and he felt like if the girl he was getting
head from was really a guy, it wasn't really cheating. I wasn't married but
thought that if I was, I didn't think my wife or any wife would accept that
theory. Then I realized that Charlie was grinning at me and I was sure I
knew why.
       "I don't know," I answered honestly. "I don't think I'd want to try
sucking a cock unless I could do it dressed as Brandi. But I definitely
want to come visit you the next time we're home and I'll try to get to know
Ron better too."
       As it turned out, I did get to know Ron better, as well as Charlie
and his friends from San Antonio. Ashley and Betty were the ones to get
Brandi back in diapers after fifteen years.
       For years I had been fantasizing about cocks and getting my mouth
filled with cum, and those fantasies were happening to me much more often -
like night and day - but I really had no desire to suck off the guys on the
rig if I couldn't dress as Brandi. Charlie understood and put me in contact
with Ashley and Betty. Ron promised to spend a day or two with me as soon
as he could come up with a reasonable excuse to give his wife. She always
had a list of things she wanted him to do as soon as he got home. So it was
Ashley that contacted me first. In fact, the phone was ringing when I
walked in the door.
       Ashley, who was better known in the business world as Al, worked
from home doing telephone sales for a couple of different companies. As a
result, he was able to stay dressed as Ashley for days at a time. What
surprised me when they drove down the following day, was that Ashley had
driven dressed up, which would have scared me in case I'd had car trouble
or got stopped for some reason and had to show my driver's license. And
something Charlie had failed to mention was that Betty was a real woman and
Ashley's common-law wife. I'd spoken with them both for nearly an hour and
while Betty's voice was deep for a woman, I thought sure she was a guy that
just sounded more feminine on the phone than Ashley.
       As it turned out, she'd been the one to get Ashley back in diapers
and having heard of my experiences with Kathy in my early and pre-teens,
had discussed that at length with me, getting me to admit that I'd really
love to try it again. So it wasn't a surprise when they arrived for Betty
to announce she was taking me upstairs to get me ready. And getting me
ready turned out to be putting me in big thick diapers, ruffled plastic
pants, and the cutest little sissy dress I'd ever seen. It was no wonder
Charlie had been so sure I'd like them.
       And when it came time to change my wet diaper, it was Ashley that
did the honors with Betty watching and enjoying the show. Ashley had said
he loved sucking a piss soaked cock more than anything and he sure proved
it that day! I blew my first load in Ashley's mouth, my second in Betty's
awesome pussy - which Ashley promptly licked clean - and I'm not sure who
got the third. They were both sucking me at the same time and when I
finished cumming and opened my eyes, they were kissing and passing the
flavor back and forth. They were definitely a well-matched couple.
       As for me, I discovered that afternoon just why Ashley thought the
flavor of a piss soaked prick was so great. His pretty little cocklet was
like sucking on a piss flavored Popsicle and when he came in my mouth, it
was everything I'd hoped for in all those fantasies. Beginning the middle
of the following week, I spent ten days with 'Charlene' and that included
another three day visit from Ashley and Betty, and Rhonda got to join us
for two days. At one point Charlene's house was filled with women and only
one of them was really female. The rest had pretty little pricks in their
panties - assuming those pretty little pricks were still in their panties
and weren't in someone's mouth.
       Those ten days were all it took for Charlene to convince me I should
move out of my folks house and live with him in that big farm house where I
could be Brandi as much as I wanted. And it was probably because of that
this story has an ironic happy ending.
       At the farm, I wore and wet diapers to my hearts content, meaning
well over half the time. About a year later, when my folks decided to visit
relatives on the West coast, they asked me to spend a couple of weeks
staying at their house to house sit while they were gone. I decided for
those two weeks I'd wear disposable diapers and went to the new Wal-Mart
that had been built where the woods had been where I'd found Kathy's wet
panties years before. In fact, when I was checking out, instead of paying
attention to the cashier, my mind was on that long ago event and I was
speculating that I might quite possibly be standing exactly where Kathy had
peed behind that bush. As a result, I almost walked off without my credit
card and the cashier called my name.
       The guy behind me in line asked if I was the same Brandon Hardwood
that had lived on Oak Forest and when I told him I was, he turned out to be
Kathy's little brother Gordon - now fully grown - that I hadn't seen since
he'd been five or six years old. We got to talking and I found out that
Kathy had recently divorced and had moved back home temporarily and Gordon
insisted I call her to say hello.
       That "Hello" resulted in Kathy coming over. As a lark, and to see
her reaction, not long after she got there I put on a diaper and nightgown
and she loved it. We got to talking and before we knew it, we'd told each
other all the secrets of our lives. She told me her ex had kept a drug
habit hidden from her until after they'd married, and after swearing to
stop numerous times, had been caught in the middle of a drug deal and had
been thrown in prison. By then she'd had enough and divorced him. I told
her all about how I'd never been able to completely give up my sissy side
that I'd enjoyed with her and how I now lived with another sissy guy,
usually dressing as two women in a lesbian sexual relationship. She told me
she was supposed to go to Houston to spend a week with her best friend from
college where she'd become a bigger computer genius than me and that when
she got back, she wanted to meet 'Charlene' and 'Brandi'.
       I was afraid Charlene might nix the idea of Kathy visiting us, and
for a moment, it almost sounded like he would. But he agreed and once again
Kathy changed my life – and Charlene's too.
       Kathy and Charlene hit it off like long lost soul mates. It didn't
take long for me to feel like a third wheel. Just as Kathy had talked with
me long into the night, when it looked like she intended to do the same
with Charlene, I went off to bed by myself. Charlene and I usually slept
together but we maintained separate bedrooms, so when I woke up at dawn, I
went to see what had happened to Charlene. The noise I'd heard must have
been Kathy's orgasm, because when I stuck my head in the door to Charlene's
room, Kathy was telling him how good it had been. She was naked and sitting
astraddle of Charlene's hips and when she saw me, she told me, "You told me
how much you love his cum, and how you always had wanted to eat my
pussy. Well here's your chance to enjoy both!"
       Thanks to Ashley and Betty, eating fresh fucked pussy was now on my
list of favorite things and I didn't hesitate to join them. I'll have to
admit that I was a little bit jealous of Charlene since I'd hoped to bed
Kathy myself. Eventually I got to do that, several times, but that was
before I quit the oil business, Kathy and I became business partners, and
she married Charlene. Since then Kathy has come to love wearing diapers
almost as much as I do. When Charlene is home we both treat her like a
queen – well actually, since she is a `queen', maybe I should say
royalty.
       As I mentioned in the beginning, I'm now part owner of a computer
sales and repair business. Most people think "K&B Computer Solutions" is
owned and operated by two women. Since I got away from the oil business,
I've lived almost full time as Brandi. And I'll tell you a little
secret. If you happen to drop by the store to see us, and there's a sign on
the door saying we'll be back in thirty minutes, it means Brandi is in the
back room getting her diaper changed.
       For this big sissy, life is good!

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Please contact the author for a complete listing of all Amber Fountaine
stories.