Chapter 23 DRESSING LIKE A SLUT

I didn't came out till evening when my dick hard finally subsided.

Time for dinner, no one called me to come for dinner. So I stood up. Went to the kitchen and saw nothing. She didn't cook or what? Since morning I've not eaten. I took 2 satchet of indomie and 3eggs and cook, eat and went back to sleep.

The next day, I woke up late. I stomped to my table and found a note-- and it's addressed to me.

Who might have dropped this? "I asked myself".

My door wasn't locked last night, so someone can intrude into my room at night while am far asleep.

I took it and open it.

"Dear Randy,

I know what you're up to. If you don't want your father to find out about your evil deeds, call me the moment you discover this note.

Franca".

I took my phone and dial her number. She answers on the second ring.

She: Hello, she says in her gravely voice-- a dead ringer for Demi Moore.

Me: It's me," I say. "I found your note.

She: Surprised?

Me: Very.

She: I thought you would be. Since you called, may I assume that you would like to keep our little secret from your father's ears?"

Me: Yes.

She: "Then do exactly what I say."

Me: "Fine."

She: Dress up in some of my clothes and make up. Get as slutty as you can. I want to see you in lingerie and a dress. I've left a wig and size 12 high heels in my room for you. Wear those, too.

Then drive to the Westin hotel in Longwood. It's just off the interstate at exit 21. Check into a suite and call me back with the room number. I hope you can do that.

Her demands wallops me like a Louisville Slugger upside the head. I stagger backwards and fall to the floor, slumping against my bed. My whole life flashes before eyes. I see everything being taken from me. Just because of fuck.

Me: I don't think so. How can you demand that I should dress like a woman. This is evil.

She: You better do it-- unless you want your father finding out about your little fetish.

Me: Let's settle this dispute once. Let's stop all this nonsense.

She: Are you doing it or not?

Me: Why am I dressing like a woman for?

She: when you come first, you will find out.

Me: It's alright.

She: Good. And one other thing. I want you dressed like a woman when you check into that suite. This isn't my first stay at that hotel. I have friends there. If you're wearing a T-shirt and jeans when you check in, I'll find out-- and you will suffer the consequences."

Me: This is fucking crazy.

She: Yes. And if you don't?" You may as well pack your bags right now because your father will have you out of the house once he's back. So, do we have a deal?"

Me: As you wish.

She: Good. I'll expect to hear from you soon."

She hangs up, and the line goes dead.

I can hardly believe what's just happened. My whole life has changed in one phone call. I feel used and abused, like a cheap prostitute. It begins to sink in that I'm going to have to go out in public in women's clothes for the first time. I'm horrified. My heart is pumping like I've just drunk three pots of coffee.

I don't think I've ever been so confused in my life like this.

Tell my dad about everything or do it?? No. No. No. I can't tell my dad.

I took my bath and went to her room and found some of her stuffs laid on the bed. I locked the door.

As I strip off my short, I begin to absorb the depth of my step mother's sickness. Never before has she shown any signs of being a pervert. She's always been a typical rich-bitch step mom. She has always been a little bit of a flirt, but I never would have dreamed that she fucked around on my father.

It takes a special kind of weirdo to give the kind of orders she did. Almost as surprising was that line she gave me about having friends at the hotel. It's as if she's done this sort of thing before. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

I took her bra and stretch it across my chest, putting the ball-like foam inside and fasten it behind my back. I put on the panties, arranging my cock so the underside presses against the lacy fabric.

The panties are "boy shorts" that fully cover my ass and leave plenty of room for my balls.

I unroll the stockings up my legs. I love how the tight fabric feels against my skin. With my cock hardening, I fasten the garter belt around my waist. Hooking the straps to the stockings takes some effort. Every time I think I've got a hook secured it slips out of my masculine fingers.

I finally get the stockings hooked up and go into franca's closet to choose a dress. I quickly find a little, black cocktail dress that I pull over my head. The stretchy material forms to my body. I check myself in the mirror on the closet door. After checking myself, I headed to the bathroom to do my make up.

I paint my face as beautiful as can be in cherry-red lipstick, black eyeliner, gray eye shadow and mascara. Checking myself in the mirror, I see that I'm not quite passable as a woman, but I'm closer.

Only God knows what am going there to do.