I was standing where he had ordered me to, with my legs spread slightly, bent over with my hands on the bed.  I could hear him moving behind me but I kept facing forward.  He had already told me he had something to plug up my ass with so I knew what was coming but had no idea what he planned to stick in me.  I felt something cool and slick rub around my ass a little and then he started to ease whatever it was in me.  I felt the tip enter me a little and stop as he teased me with it.  “You want to be fucked don’t
you?” he said.  “Yes, please fuck me sir.” I answered.  The tip of what I guessed was a butt plug continued forward in my ass and it only took a second to realize it was a pretty small one.  Thankfully he was taking it
easy on me.  The small plug slid in to the end and my hole tightened against the base involuntarily.

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With a loud buzzing sound ringing throughout her room, Charlotte awoke in the dark and rolled over to slap the button on her clock radio. Well, to call it a clock radio was somewhat of a misnomer since the radio made a lower pitched and louder buzz than the alarm. Rubbing her eyes the glowing blobs resolved into 5:45, with a small red dot uselessly reminding her that it was in the A.M. Completing the roll, her feet hit the
floor and, grabbing her dressing robe, she made her way groggily to her flat’s bathroom.

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ButtSluts, cross-dressing story and tranny story

My name is Jimmy James. When I started high school, my parents shipped me out to boarding school to teach me discipline. They were mad because I had always been a disappointment to them. I wasn’t terribly manly and I liked to dress in girls clothes. The more often they caught me dressed like a girl, the madder they got.
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My name is now Stephanie, once it was Stephen. I would like to relate how I was turned into a girl (really a transvestite slave) by the beautiful young lady who has become my mistress.  I have always felt that I should have been born a female.  I definitely have female traits. I have a very feminine voice and I cry over the silliest things. Just like a woman would.  Cindy’s dominance over me has expanded my submissive nature.  I love Mistress Cindy and happily submit to her every desire.  In high school, I spent two frustrating years trying to date the opposite sex.  I found girls to be rather disbelieving: “Go out in public with a sissy like you?  I’d rather die.” At the end of my junior years all that changed.

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Margo sat next to me in the coffee shop late that Saturday afternoon. His real name was Mark, but he was one of the loveliest Drag Queens in New York City. I had been dressing secretly at home in my mother’s and sister’s clothes for just over three years, but at 18 years old, I had never been in public as a
woman.  Margo lived now as a female, and could pass anywhere.  I complimented “her” on it, and “she” said.  “You could do just as well, you know.” I was flattered, but not as sure as she was.  “Come on,” she said.  “I’ll show you!” We went to her apartment.  We had been occasional lovers, so I had been there
before, but this visit would be different.

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After 37 years, most of which I’ve only dreamed of soft silk,  smooth satin and rustling petticoats, the opportunity has at last  arisen to bring some of those dreams to fruition.  Only last Spring  upon becoming “modemized” did I stumble upon Compuserve’s  “Genderline” and CB Channel 13.  Until that time I had been  completely and tightly closetted.  Despite the fact that  crossdressing or at least thoughts of it had dominated my sexuality  since before puberty, only my wife of 11 years had any inkling of my desires.  Even she had to wait until a year after we were married  before I shared even a part of my true nature.  At the time,
although she appeared tolerant, I assumed she couldn’t “enjoy” my  transvestism so even after she went so far as to purchase severals lovely “gifts” for me, I kept my dreams and fantasies to myself. 
Whether it was fear or embarassment, to this day I don’t know why I remained so defensive and thus refrained from any activity other than furtively collecting TV fiction whenever I got the chance. 
Little did I know all that was about to change.  After several weeks of “lurking” on Compuserve, afraid to even speak, I finally worked  up the nerve, chose my new name, and made myself known to those who 
would soon become my friends and “sisters”.  I was made immediately  welcome and delighted in the openess and warmth of all who shared my up-till-then secret love of all things feminine.  I think “died and
gone to heaven” is the appropriate phrase.

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