"Put these on," said the man, tossing a bundle of clothes on the bed in front of the boy.

Twelve year old Tommy Follows looked puzzled, turning his gaze from the man who had forced him into his car an hour earlier, brought him to this place miles from home, to the bundle before him. It was, he could see, brightly colored - a pattern of reds and yellows and pinks. "But, sir, I've got clothes on," the boy said.

"Sure, kid. Dull old boy's clothes." The man grinned at the child. "These other ones are special."

The boy furrowed his brow and picked up the bundle. It fell open, spilling clothes on the bed. In a moment Tommy realized they were women's clothes - a mass of fine fabrics and lace. "I can't wear these," he gasped, dropping them back on the bed.

"Of course you can," snapped the man. He was, of course, considerably taller than the youngster and he stepped forward to tower over the kid. The man's rough, close cropped beard and his long, black hair made him look threatening, along with the dark pools that were his eyes. "You get out of those things and get those on. Now!'

Sudden tears welled in the pre-teen boy's eyes. He was scared. "Please... I want to go home."

"Not yet," said the man. "Later, if you're good. When you're dressed."

The boy sniffed back his tears. "Please sir. Why do I have to wear these clothes?'

"Because I say so. And you'll look cute, believe me."

Tommy wiped his eyes on the back of his hand. "I want to go home," he repeated.

"And I want you to get dressed," growled the man. "So do it."

"You can't make me."

"Oh but I can," smiled the man. "I can make you do anything I want." He flexed his big fists and cracked his knuckles loudly, making the terrified boy blink.

Reluctantly Tommy started to pull off his own clothes. He began to fold them neatly, just as he had been told by his mom.

"Don't bother," said the man. "You won't be needing those again."

Tommy let his clothes slip from his hands to the floor, embarrassed as he slowly became naked under the unrelenting gaze of the man. He'd never seen this man before he had been pulled, struggling into the car and told to lie still - very still - on the floor by the passenger seat. Tommy had done exactly what he had been told if only because the man had looked capable of getting very angry.

He still looked as if he could get angry as he glared down at Tommy. The boy shivered, partly from fear, partly from the cold in the cabin.

They were a long way from home, up in the mountains. The cabin had little furniture in it beyond the bed, a table and two hard back chairs. The small window on one side looked out over rocks and a distant valley. The door was locked and Tommy already knew the man had the key.

"Put the panties on first," said the man. "You can get to cover that wiener up."

Tommy fished in the bundle of clothes and pulled out a pair of pink nylon panties, decorated with white lace at the legs. He held them up, unsure what to do with them.

"Quit stalling, kid. They're just like your own pants. It's just that they're a little lady-like." The man laughed at his own joke.

Tommy stepped into them, glad at least he could hide his dick. He pulled them up over his hips, aware of the way the nylon felt. It made him shiver but in a different way to just being cold or scared.

"Now the bra," said the man.

"I can't," spluttered the boy, face turning red as he stared down at the red and black lace garment. "It's for women!'

"Of course it is. It's a goddamn brassiere. But you're going to wear it."

"But I've never worn one before," objected Tommy.

"Time to learn, kid. Put your arms through the bra straps and fasten it behind your back." The man paused. "You want me to do it for you?'

Tommy felt his heart start to race. He didn't know if he wanted this man to do it, but he couldn't do it on his own. "W-will you do it?" he asked.

"Say please," grinned the man.

"Please," mumbled the boy.

"Please what?'

Tommy stared at the man, seeing how he was enjoying this. Tommy couldn't work out why. He said it anyway, even if it was quietly: "Please, sir, will you put the bra on me."

"Louder," said the man.

The boy, startled, repeated it louder.

"Good," said the man. He picked up the bra and showed the boy. "The cups go in front, on your little chest." The cups he alluded to were lace - black like the rest of the bra but with generous red lace on the edges, a red bow between the cups and bizarrely, red satin straps. Tommy had seen very few bras before - only his mom's and his sister Diana's - but they were usually white, though a couple were entirely black. But this was something almost sluttish. A strange feeling flickered in the boy's stomach.

He held his arms out and watched as the man threaded the straps over them and drew the bra up to the boy's chest. Deftly, the man tugged the bra round Tommy's back and hooked it closed. "It's tight" the boy said when the man had done.

"It's meant to be tight," growled the man. Tommy didn't like the man standing so close to him, didn't like the feel of his rough hands on him, but he was both fascinated and scared when the man adjusted the sliders on the bra straps to make them sit tight on his shoulders. He did it like he knew exactly what he was doing. For some reason Tommy was aware of thinking: my dad wouldn't know how to do that.

"Feel good?" the man asked, stepping back to study the boy.

"It's, um, sort of weird," said Tommy, aware something he had never known before was stirring in him. The tightness, the softness of it sent a peculiar tremor through the twelve year old. He brought his hand up and felt the bra cup lace and shivered, simultaneously repelled by its femininity and attracted to its texture.

The man grunted, as if he understood. But he said as he turned away: "Better get used to it."

"It's flat," said the boy, suddenly blushing at what he'd said.

"I know. You haven't got anything to fill the cups out." The man's eye's sparkled as he added: "Soon you can have something."

Tommy blushed brighter red, unsure what the tumbling sensation in him was.

The man didn't see it. He had turned away and gone to the stone fireplace and was pushing some dry sticks and brushwood into a pile. He struck a match and lit the brushwood. Tommy watched as the flames licked up round the wood and the man carefully added some larger pieces of wood to it, and the boy was glad there would be some heat. It was late afternoon and the onset of night he knew would bring much lower temperatures.

The man stood and went to the table, ignoring the boy. He had brought a bag with him and was looking in it.

"Sir," ventured Tommy. "The rest of the clothes. Do I put them on."

"Sure," the man said as he brought something out of the bag. It was pink - flesh colored - and looked shiny. He put it on the table and looked back at they boy, standing in the bra and panties. "But first we need some more fuel for the fire."

Tommy watched, horrified, as the man stepped over to the pile of Tommy's boy clothes, swept them up - including his sneakers - and took them to the fire. Without a word the man began tossing them on to the flames. The smell of burning leather and plastic from the sneakers filled the room.

"My clothes!" gasped the boy as he saw the flames consume them. He took a half step forward but stopped himself: the man shot him a look so he stood still, helplessly watching his pants and sweater disappear in flames.

"Your old clothes," corrected the man. "I told you already you wouldn't need them."

"But... what am I going to wear?" The boy wailed.

"The skirt and the blouse - oh yeah, and the slip. I'd get that on now if I was you."

Tommy gulped, tears in his eyes, and picked up the slip - a full-length white slip with lace insets on the bust and at the hem. Without a word he struggled into it, dropping it over his head. He wouldn't admit it but he was secretly glad it fitted him - and it helped cover up his panties and the small swelling of his cock inside them.

"I don't look like a girl," grumbled the boy, conscious of how he felt as the slip settled round him. In an odd way, it was more girlish than the bra.

"You do if I say you do," said the man quietly but firmly. "Now the blouse," said the man, gesturing at the richly patterned red and yellow flowered long-sleeved blouse on the bed. Tommy picked it up cautiously. "Go on. It won't bite," the man laughed, watching him.

Tommy struggled it over his shoulders, glad that it gave him more cover. It was smooth to the touch and again the boy shivered without knowing why. He fastened the buttons, despite the fact that they weren't how he was used to, including the ones at the cuffs.

For some reason he was too ashamed to admit, his small cock was stirring in the panties. Tommy grabbed the skirt - a gray and black check knee-length skirt - and pulled it up his legs, desperate to hide the small but distinct bulge at the front of the slip. He hoped the man wouldn't notice it. There was small zipper at the side of the skirt - at least he presumed it was the side - and a hook fastening. He closed it and wriggled in it, like he'd seen his mother do, to straighten it.

"There," smirked the man. "Feel better now you're dressed?'

"Okay I guess," said Tommy in a small voice. He put his arms round himself, feminine-like, to hug himself both for warmth and protection: the fire looked as if was going to die down with all his clothes burnt and the man made no move to put any more wood on it.

"You look cute. I said you would," the man said. "The clothes fit real well."

Tommy swallowed and shivered. His small cock was harder than he would like, as if wearing this stuff excited him. But that was stupid, he told himself. Boys don't wear women's clothes.

The man picked up something next to the pink, shiny thing on the table. "Trouble is, kid, you look like a girl but not the face. Guess you need to have that little girl look."

Tommy furrowed his brow, confused. "I'm not a girl," he said.

"Not yet," laughed the man as he stepped forward. He had two things in his hand - a short, narrow tube and a piece of surgical tape with a small hole at the front. Tommy stared wide eyed at them, suddenly fearing the worst. "Now, kid. We can do this the easy way or the hard way. But it's going to happen."

"What do you mean, the hard way?" The boy gulped, taking a step back. The bed met the back of his legs and he couldn't retreat any further.

"I mean I can tie you to one of those chairs and make you do what I want, or you can make it easy on yourself and stand still while I put this in." The man held the tube up. "It's to help you stay alive," he said.

"How?" Tommy managed to say, alarm exploding in him. He was fighting down his fears.

'It's so you can breathe and feed properly. Just keep this between your lips for a minute," the man said as the tube came up towards the boy's face.

Tommy, foolishly, tried to knock it away. The man was prepared for that however and seized the child. He grabbed something off the bed - a thin leather belt that Tommy had assumed was just part of the clothes he was supposed to wear. It was, he realized, to keep his arms out of the way. The man looped the belt round the boy's arms and waist in an instant and then buckled it tight, pinning Tommy's arms to his side.

"Let me go!" Tommy shouted, trying to struggle.

The man merely held him effortlessly, even when the boy tried to kick - not very effectively, he soon discovered. "Cut it out kid or I'll get more ropes and straps and really tie you down." Suddenly Tommy gave up, slumping in defeat in the man's strong arms. He was allowed to sit on to the bed, head bowed, knowing that resistance wouldn't work.

"Better you're sensible, kid. I can hurt you, no problem," he said, not unkindly. "But I don't want to. So make it easy for yourself and cooperate, okay?"

"You wouldn't hurt me," said the boy, trying to be defiant.

"I try not to hurt little girls unless I have to."

Tommy nodded, knowing he had no option but to obey. The thought came to the pre-teen that if he did what this man said, he might be kinder to him. Maybe let him go. Tommy opened his mouth so the man could insert the tube - it hung between his lips like a cigarette. The man peeled the back off the surgical tape and brought that up, fitting the tube through the hole and smoothed the tape over Tommy's cheeks, covering all of his lower face. The boy made a helpless mmmphing noise but nothing else.

"You can breathe through that tube," said the man, "and take in drinks. Like a drinking straw."

Tommy, tears in eyes, nodded. The man went to the table and came back with the pink, shiny thing. He held it up in front of the boy.

"It's a rubber mask," he explained. "A little girl's rubber mask."

Tommy stared at it, panic in him, knowing that it was for him. The face on the mask was like that of a doll: big painted on blue eyes with large lashes, arched eyebrows and a cute bright red bow lips, pouting to a kiss. There was, he could see, a small hole in the middle of the lips and two others where his nostrils would go. He was relieved to see the blue eyes had two small holes too, so he would be able to see when it was on.

The boy made no effort to fight as the man pulled the mask over his head. The mask fitted snugly over his nose and the man made a couple of small adjustments to make sure the tube in Tommy's mouth projected through the mask, the nostrils and eye holes were in the right place and it sat properly over the boy's head. Slowly, methodically the man began to lace up the back, compressing the thin rubber to the boy's face. Tommy groaned as the pressure increased but with his arms still pinned to his side by the belt, there was nothing he could do.

The man finished the lacing and tied the ends off at the back of Tommy's neck. "You look really sweet, girl. Can you breathe okay?'

Tommy nodded. He could breathe through his nose and the tube in his mouth and was at least glad of that. The man went back to the table and the boy watched him, aware that the small holes at his eyes meant he had to turn his head to do so: there was no vision if he moved his eyes to the side. The only way he could see was looking straight ahead.

The man returned with a small, golden padlock. "This," he explained, "goes at the back of the mask. It locks it onto your head and stops you undoing the laces."

Tommy made an urgent demand why all this was happening, how long was this mask - this hood - going to be on him. But his taped up, hood covered mouth allowed only meaningless grunts, and even if he could make himself understood the man probably wouldn't have told him.

"Calm down, girl," the man said as he threaded the lock through what must have been two small rings at the back of the hood and snapped it shut. "It's for your own good."

The man went back to the table and brought out what was clearly a wig from the bag. It was a mass of long, golden blonde curls, and the boy knew it was for him.

"Shirley Temple look," the man grinned. "You'll look even more like an adorable, cute little girl now." The man as he pulled the wig into place on top of the hood and smoothed down the curls at each side. "And, special treat, it won't come off in a hurry. There are special glue pads inside it, which are waterproof. After all, no girl likes her hair coming off in the rain or in the shower," he grinned, positioning himself so that Tommy could see him directly without turning his head. "It also hides those unsightly laces and the padlock."

The man seemed to be showing more kindness now, seeming much less threatening. Tommy gulped, wondering where all this was leading. He understood the man wasn't going to kill him now and for all the fear, all the terror, there was something reassuring about this. He was still Tommy Follows, but it was all hidden away under this pretend girl.

The man got up and found, from his stuff, a hand mirror. He brought it over to where Tommy sat and held it up so the boy could see himself. It was, Tommy admitted, quite a shock. For a start it could have been anybody in that mask: with the blond, tumbling curls wig and the wide eyed, innocent painted face it was simply a doll staring back. He was a doll. A weird doll maybe with the small tube sticking out of its mouth but a doll nonetheless. Moreover, the way the mask had been stretched it seemed to reshape Tommy's face, making it rounder and smoother. The light gleamed on the "skin" of the doll face, emphasizing its sweet, almost contented look.

Inside the pink panties the boy's small cock began to twitch again and his cheeks burned with embarrassment inside the hood. But of course, the man wouldn't see that. All he could see would be a doll, looking pleasantly at him.

The man put down the mirror and undid the belt, freeing his prisoner's arms. Tommy understood he could do nothing about the hood but he brought his hands up to feel its smoothness and texture. It was like nothing he's ever felt before.

"Warm in there?" asked the man.

Tommy grunted a yes and nodded. It was warm inside the hood. He wasn't sweating yet but it wasn't far off.

"That's the rubber, though it is a special compound," explained the man as if he was a teacher. "It lets the skin breathe and there are small holes at the top that allow air - and heat - to escape through the wig. But, like all skin enclosed, there's going to be some build up of heat. Best thing to do is not to do anything too demanding. No severe exercise. No running away, for instance," he grinned. "You might want to get up and walk round, though. Get used to everything, like how the skirt feels." He paused. "But before you do, I think you need some shoes."

The boy nodded. He wasn't sure why this man had kidnapped him, why he had been brought to this lonely place, why he had been made to dress as a girl and wear this mask. But he had the overwhelming feeling that the man didn't want to hurt him. If anything the man looked a lot less scary than he had at first, and his voice was gentler. Like he cared.

The man reached under the bed and pulled out a box. When he opened it and lifted it up to show Tommy the contents, the boy's heart did a little flip. He wasn't sure if it was shock or a strange delight he couldn't explain. The box contained a pair of polished black, high heeled shoes, complete with ankle straps and gold buckles. Very feminine shoes that even a small girl wouldn't wear normally. Only for dressing up games.

"Uhhh mmph mrrm uhngg!" grunted Tommy. He had tried to say: I can't wear those things but it might have sounded like a gagged version of: "wow, they look good.'

The man, kneeling in front of the boy, eased the first of the pair on to Tommy's foot. The shoe was a perfect fit and slipped on as if it was made to measure. The man carefully, almost lovingly, fastened the gold buckle. The boy, staring down, gave a little gasp: the high heel and the shape of the shoe pointed his foot down elegantly and he liked the way the polished toes caught the light. Even the tight ankle strap gave him a peculiar but enjoyable thrill.

The other shoe went on, perfectly, and was fastened like the first. The boy looked at both feet as the man stood. "I think," he said, looking down at the boy, "you need to practice walking in them."

Tommy gulped and nodded. Gingerly he got to his feet, wobbling a little on the spike heels, his arm supported by the man. He knew his mom had a pair like this and he'd wondered how she could walk in them. He was about to find out and the idea sent a shiver through him and his cock stirred anew inside the panties.

"Take it easy," said the man gently. "One step at a time."

The man didn't let go of the boy's arm, allowing him to walk tentatively, awkwardly, at first. Then the man said something odd: "You'll find you're right at home in them soon enough."

The twelve year old was walked round the room, wondering what the man meant. Would he have to keep them on his feet a long time, or were they going to walk somewhere? He tried to look down at his feet as he walked but the small eye holes limited his vision and he had to bend his head well forward. The man stopped him.

"Better if you walk properly, head up. You'll fall if you walk like that."

The boy nodded and walked, head up, allowing the man to guide him. They walked twice round the room before the man let go of Tommy's arm, so he could walk on his own. He did, feeling elated he could cope with shoes like this. His feet, unused to the angle and the heels, were hurting a little but the boy didn't mind too much. There was something about wearing high heels that sent a thrill through him.

He thought how impressed his mom would be to see this. That made him stop in his tracks: he realized he hadn't thought of his parents for a while. He felt guilty. He had yearned for them to come and rescue him, thought that they would be calling the police, that help would be on its way. But the dressing up, the mask and the shoes had made him forget about them.

The man noticed the boy had stopped. "Something wrong?" he asked, stepping up.

Tommy shook his head to show there was nothing wrong. Given that he had in the space of two hours been kidnapped, brought to a strange place, been gagged, restrained and masked as well as made to wear women's clothes - and high heels - it was strange to indicate there was nothing wrong.

"Good," said the man. "Carry on walking."

Tommy did as he was told. He made several more circuits of the room, aware his feet were beginning to hurt now. He looked at the man, sat at the table, watching him and tried to make a "I can't go on doing this" look. The mask, of course, made it look like he was entirely happy. The man indicated the boy should continue his exercise, and the child did, feeling the sweat beginning to prickle under the mask.

The hood muted some sound but not all. There was a rattle of something metallic and Tommy looked round at the source, where the man was. He had extracted a length of chain from the bag and what looked like another padlock. He came towards the boy. "Time to rest," he said. Without warning the man looped one end of the chain round Tommy's neck and closed the padlock at the boy's throat. "This chain will secure you to the bed or whatever I want. Can't have you getting up in the night and falling over in your heels," he grinned.

The night? He'd have to stay here for the whole night, like this? Panic welled in the boy again. He tried to object, tried to lash out with his fists, even kick out though he almost lost his balance as he did so in the high heels. The man dodged the boy's efforts easily, scooped up the belt and this time secured Tommy's wrists behind his back, fastening the buckle in front across his belly. The man gave it a good hard tug to tighten it, making Tommy groan, before pushing the boy back on the bed, so his skirt flew up.

The man leaned over and straightened it down, for which Tommy was glad. He may have been a boy in female clothes but even he knew what modesty was in a young lady. The chain was looped round the headboard post. "Just relax," said the man. "I don't want to chain you up like some animal but I need you to behave." He paused. "I could chain your ankles easily, so you can't walk very fast or even fasten your wrists behind you - permanently. For now, the belt will do, so just take it easy. Good girls don't fight."

Tommy glared at the man but he knew it would do no good. He watched, sullenly, as the man returned to the table, brought more chains out of the bag but didn't approach Tommy with them.

Instead the man went to the fire, stirred the remains of the boy's clothes into the hot ashes and threw some more wood on. The fire burned bright and Tommy stared into the flames.

---

The chains rattled when Tommy walked. He must have walked round the cabin a hundred times, to the point he was long past feeling dizzy. The man watched as the boy completed yet another circuit, his ankle chain rattling on the floor boards. The man was masturbating, slowly stroking his thick cock as he watched the boy walk.

Tommy was embarrassed to see a man doing that, because he'd been doing it for a year himself: masturbating his admittedly much smaller dick. But like a lot of pre-teens, they were embarrassed about what they all did naturally. Seeing someone else do it so openly made Tommy feel hot and bothered. Tommy even tried not to glance at the man's thick cock, noting its purple head and how hard it was. How a small drop of pre-cum gleamed at the eye.

And Tommy could see the man's dick was like his - hairless. He understood men had pubic hair. He had seen his father's cock briefly once when they went swimming, when they had changed together. Tommy had been fascinated by the thick matt of hair round his dad's cock as he glanced surreptitiously at it. But this man, the one who had enslaved him, clearly was shaved. Admittedly, the boy didn't understand what that was - he assumed at first that the man was naturally hairless. Fascinated, the boy kept glancing at the man, who seemed to be smiling as if he knew what was in the kid's mind.

Tommy didn't understand this but the man was an expert at almost bringing himself off, just delaying the moment of ejaculation so he could enjoy watching the cross-dressed, rubber-masked boy walk so deliberately, so slowly in his chains round the room. The boy's own experience of masturbating had been mostly swift: he came quickly and wiped it up hurriedly. But this man wasn't guilty, or hurried. He was slow and deliberate. Measured.

The boy in the girl's clothes desperately wanted to ask if he could stop walking as he was exhausted, but he also knew in some deep way that he probably wouldn't stop until the man had finished his masturbation. Of course, there was the matter of the gag, so asking was out of the question anyway. In desperation, the boy did the only thing he could: he knelt in front of the man and brought his hands up in a praying, pleading gesture.

The man laughed at Tommy's gesture. He stopped masturbating (though still gripped his cock) and beckoned the boy closer. Tommy shuffled on his knees towards the man, feeling the rough floor hurt his knees but he didn't drop his hands from the pleading position.

"Good, you're learning," said the man, not unkindly. "You will learn to communicate with me by gestures. Providing you aren't tied up." The man smirked at the last part and suddenly renewed his masturbation.

In a moment Tommy understood what would happen next, and what he must do. With his face less than two feet from the cock, he also grasped what was required of a doll-faced slave. He shuffled closer still and put his hands behind his back, face angled towards the bright pink, bulbous end of the man's hard dick.

The jet of cum was hard and rattled loudly against the boy's masked face. The boy flinched at it, but instantly understood the benefit of having a layer of thin rubber between his face and the semen. He couldn't feel it roll down his cheeks but presumed it was. he thought he should remain, hands in back, and he didn't move.

The man put his cock away. He picked something up, which looked like an expensive handkerchief. "Yours," he said. "It's lace edged silk. I'm just borrowing it." Without another word the man wiped the silk over the boy's face, clearly wiping his own semen off the mask.

"If you weren't gagged, you could suck it clean," he said, with a sly smile. "So you should thank your lucky stars your mouth is occupied. Agreed?"

Tommy nodded, grateful the man wasn't going to push the cum-soaked silk and lace into his mouth and make him suck it all off. The gag he wore was good for something, he concluded.

"Okay, girl, time to rest now," said the man as he stood. "Let's get you chained up on the bed and you can get some sleep. After you have a drink."

A wave of panic swept over Tommy. he thought that the man would do something gross like pissing in his mouth, but he needn't have worried. The man picked up a glass and filled it with ordinary water, and then held the tube at the boy's mouth so it could go into the liquid. Tommy soon understood he had to suck to drink the liquid.

"In case you are wondering, this is also how you will be fed from now on. You will be drinking a special food slaves like you have."

Under the mask, tommy raised his eyebrows. Slaves like him? There were more?

The man must have understood the slight movement of the cross-dressed boy's head. "Oh sure," he smiled. "There are small boys like you all over who get to be dressed up like this, made into slave girls. Someone had to make all this, right? So it follows they have to make the stuff that you will live on."

Tommy mentally gulped as he drank. He hadn't realized how thirsty he was, and hungry too. But he suspected he would have to wait until the next day for a taste of this food. The boy wondered what it would taste like, whether he would hate it. In the way he hated Jello. Maybe, he thought, there are different flavors.

The boy drank all the water and then lifted his head clear of the empty glass and as he did so, he felt his bladder twinge. Of course, he understood, he had to pee. And he also understood he had to indicate to the man he needed to go. He stood, carefully, and lifted his skirt and put his hand in front of him as a boy would, to hold his cock as he would when going to the bathroom.

The man looked at him and slowly shook his head. "Girls don't go to the toilet like that, do they?"

Tommy blushed under his mask and shook his head. The man made no effort to move, and slowly it dawned on Tommy he had to communicate the proper way, as a girl would. Holding his skirt up, he bent and squatted, as if he was going to sit on the toilet in the female way.

The man, to Tommy's relief, grinned and nodded. He took hold of the boy's arm and led him, chains clanking, to a door at one end of the room. He opened it to reveal a small bathroom - no more than a toilet, sink and shower unit. The man guided Tommy in and stood, arms folded in the doorway, watching. The boy was embarrassed to do this but he had no choice: the feeling in his bladder was urgent. Lifting his skirt again, higher, Tommy peeled down his pants and sat. He was facing the man and kept his eyes down in shame at being seen doing this. The boy was tempted - but understood he shouldn't - to hold his small cock down as he peed.

Somehow he managed to empty his bladder. He finished, stood and pulled his panties up and straightened his skirt. He did it as naturally as he could, as a girl would do.

"Good girl," said the man with a nod. "Now it's time to chain you up in bed. Busy day tomorrow."

Tommy nodded slowly, sighed under his doll mask and headed for the bed and the waiting chain.