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From: brucejamie@hotmail.com (Jamie B.)
Subject: Carla's Panties Chapter 2, (femdom, humil, tg, ts)
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Although inspired by a news story about a hapless employee of Donald
Trump's being jailed for four years for stealing a pair of Marla's
panties and a pair of high heels this story is a work of fiction and
the characters bear no resemblance to actual persons living or dead.

It is intended for mature audiences that enjoy male humiliation,
feminine domination and cross dressing themes. Later chapters will
contain strong sexual encounters. If these things offend you, you are
below the age of majority  or stories of this kind are against the law
in you  jurisdiction read no further. 
Otherwise enjoy....

Carla's Panties by Jamie B.     brucejamie@hotmail.com

Chapter 2

Surprise she said, holding out her arms, then stopped as she saw my
chest and the smile slipped of her face to be replaced with a look of
concern and confusion.
What have you done. She asked.
 Susan, we have to sit down and talk. I couldn't think of anything
else to say.
But what's happened to your chest she persisted as I moved her trough
to the living room. Are you hurt?
No I'm fine I tried to reassure her. Lets get a drink and I 'll
explain everything.
You look as if you have grown breasts she said, pouring two drinks, a
smile creasing her worried face.
I've been fitted with false breasts I admitted. Not sure of how else
to tell her.
She sagged into the chair opposite as if the air had been let out of
her.
For god's sake why., pushing my drink across the table towards me. I
remembered my fingernails and kept my hands in my pockets for the
moment.
I have to masquerade as a girl at the party tomorrow.
What, she exploded. Peter what is going on? Her voice getting shrill 
Susan. I confessed. I did something very stupid, and that is the price
I have to pay. Its either that or go to jail. I hope you can
understand and forgive me.
What do I have to forgive, other than you appear to have gone out of
your mind. She demanded, her voice as cold as her eyes. Please explain
to me what exactly is going on.
Susan. I stole some of Mrs. Bridges underwear. Mr. Bridge found out
and gave me a choice, go to the party in a dress or go to jail.
All our friends will be there she said, rubbing her forehead with the
flat of her hands as if she had a sudden headache, we'll be the
laughing stock. We'll be finished. I'll never be able to hold my head
up again.
Susan, you're talking like your mother. After all I'm the one who has
to wear the dress.
Yes she spat back, angry now, but you are my fiancee and I have to
stand beside you while you make a fool of yourself.
I really needed that drink and reached across the table. Her eyes
flared open as she spotted the false fingernails.
What other surprises do you have Peter, she asked her voice flat and
drained of emotion.
I had a complete body wax. Susan, they insisted on all of this. I had
no choice.
Next I suppose your going to tell me you have a hair and makeup
appointment.
Yes I answered, tears of frustration and humiliation welling up in my
eyes. I was loosing her by the second and there was nothing I could
do.
So the picture I get is you making your grand entrance into a circle
of our friends and co-workers, your hair done in a bouffant style,
false eyelashes and lipstick, a flashy party dress, stockings and high
heels. Have I left anything out?
I didn't answer. All I could hope was that her anger would run out and
we could talk about it calmly, although form the look on her face that
seemed unlikely.
Perhaps you'd like me to lend you some of my underwear, or have you
arranged to borrow some of Mrs. Bridge's?
Please Susan, this is getting us nowhere.
I agree, she answered, her fury growing. Do you know what shits me
Peter? You never stole any of my underwear did you?
Did you, she asked again when I didn't answer.
No Susan
That's damn right. We are supposed to be getting married and your
wearing panties stolen from other women.
Susan for what its worth I swear to you I didn't put them on.
Well your about to make up for lost time aren't you. The tears were
flowing freely now for both of us. Getting up she stood over me.
You might like to wear this tomorrow she said tugging at her
engagement ring. It popped free and she dropped it on the table. Be
careful you don't snag it in your nylons dear. With that she walked
off.
I sat staring through my tears at the ring on the table. 
A few minutes later she was back. Her tears had gone but not the fury.
I'll leave my makeup and nightgown. I'm sure you can make good use of
them in your new life.
Ignoring my pleas to sit down and talk she turned on her heel and
walked away. I head the outer door slam and then nothing but the
distant rumble of traffic. It seemed to be a good time to finish my
drink and get another or three.
Sometime later, I wasn't sure quite when, other than darkness was
drawing in, I needed a trip to the bathroom and another bottle of
scotch. 
When I came out of the bathroom something caught my eye and I diverted
to the bed. Neatly laid out were the lace underwear I had given Susan
for Christmas. Turning on a bedside light I sat on the edge of the bed
and read the note she had left on top of the dark lace top stockings. 
" I was really touched when you bought me this lovely lingerie for
Christmas. I have been looking for an opportunity to wear it when you
could enjoy taking it off me. Tonight was to be that time. A girl can
never have too much nice underwear. I'm sure you will enjoy wearing it
more than I can now. Love Susan."
Oh god, I cried, the tears flowing freely. This was only the start and
I had already lost my fiancee. I felt so sad and alone. Picking up
each garment I looked at it with a mixture of sadness and awe. These
lacy little nothings held such a strong attraction, but they were
going to cost me my life, and nobody seemed to understand or care.
Staggering to my feet I threw off all my clothes before pulling the
white slip out from under the other garments. I was shocked when it
slipped easily over my head, the lace top hugging my breasts snugly.
Looking down at my smooth legs peeking out from the wide lace hem I
moaned in a combination of ecstasy and fear at the powerful emotions
overwhelming me. As I moved about the room the silk garment caressing
my skin with every movement, my cock became hard despite my mental
resolve to remain unimpressed. With shaking, sweaty hands I manage to
ball up a stocking. Sitting on the edge of the bed I slipped it over
my toe and gently pulled the gossamer tube up my leg. Standing up
after repeating the process with the other stocking, thighs pressed
together to hold the stockings in place, I picked up the wispy white
lace garterbelt, hitched up the slip and wrapped it around my waist.
The process of pulling down each ruffled suspender to the stocking top
and attaching the clip hidden behind a dainty length of ribbon felt so
feminine and sensuous I thought I might faint.
Falling back on the bed I pressed Susan's panties into my face,
caressed myself through the slip, drinking in the scent of her
femininity and perfume, my mind overloaded with the sensual signals my
body was transmitting. Rolling on my back I brought up my legs,
slipping my rigid cock between my nylon thighs. Now I could look down
and see the feminine me, no cock to ruin the illusion. With a white
hot cock that was all it took. Holding my breath I buried the purple
tip of my cock in the crotch of Susan's panties enjoying the silky
coolness along my shaft. But a moment was all I got. My next movement
sent me into an uncontrollable series of body wracking ejaculations,
my cum quickly overwhelming the ability of the tiny panties to soak it
up.
My elation disappeared as fast as my erection. My borrowed underwear
was covered in semen, I felt unclean and unworthy. In the bathroom I
quickly removed the lingerie and unsure of the effect of water on my
new body sponged myself down. Leaving my soiled lingerie on the
bathroom floor I went in hunt of the remains of my bottle of scotch.
With bottle firmly in hand I made my way into the darkened living
room, curled up in the chesterfield and proceeded to drink myself into
grateful sad oblivion.

To be continued...



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