Date Bait Part 1
By
Timothy Reisling Betticut


"The hem of this thing is way too high," Timmie's long nails tweaked at
the tight satiny stuff, "It's just..... indecent on me like this. Come on
Tiffany, at least lemme wear something else. And I can hardly stand still
in these heels, look they make me teeter and that makes me jiggle and,
awe, please Tiffany....." Timmie brushed back some cascading curls to peer
into the mirror and shake the long earrings loose. But no matter what
angle it showed, the reflection was hot honey blond girl in pink. Pink
ankle strapped spikes, pink shiny stockings, pink satin dress, pink
earrings, pink lips, pink eyelids and a big floppy pink bow.
"Pink makes you so innocent," Tiffany smirked, "And shiny like that
Timmie, even in the dimmest light, you flash like a strobe," she giggled
and clapped, "A twinkly display. I love it." "Innocent?

This dress might cover me from neck to hem. And it's got long
sleeves. But innocent?" The blond peered at the dazzling reflection, while
ten nails sparkled pink and clawed at the shorty hem. "These heels're
probably longer than my skirt. This corset's got me down to a twenty four
inch waist and my tits are what? C cup?"
"Sounds right, maybe B+. Love the way your new boobs jiggle and poke
their nipple tips against your bust. Look like little puppy noses trying
to sniff through. Naughty." Tiffany pulled her own red hair back into a
strict long pony tail. "You'll get a date sure tonight."
The blond twirled and stared as if suddenly shot, "Date! The hell you
mean, date?"


Tiffany conned Tim into drag on Wednesday. Just a quick session in costume
for the costume party on Saturday. Tim didn't want the works, but he got
them. His secretary Tiffany, after all had the pictures. A video camera in
her handbag, in his office, caught her on his lap. The kiss. She was so
gorgeous that day. So flirty. One minute she peered over his shoulder at
the report on his desk, the next moment on his lap - kissing and hugging.
Hell, it was all so abrupt. He'd never cheated on Candi. Never meant for
that ambush to happen. But so fast, Tiffany's top was down, his hands were
on her breasts. Abruptly she was backward on the desk, breasts out, skirt
up, pulling him down, unresisting. Why didn't he struggle?


Then she whipped down his pants, her lips around him. The hidden camera
catching it all, recording the sounds. Her moans, little cries and
squeals. So fast, before he caught himself, pulled her back and away.
Ordered her out. Watching her redress slowly and smirk as she grabbed her
large purse. Next day, the tape arrived, neatly edited. Was he raping her?
A jury would be hard pressed to call it, the way the cuts were made, some
speeding up, some new sound added to the noises she made. No doubt the
thing would destroy Tim, threaten his job. And Tiffany demanded so little.
Just go to the costume party on Saturday. Let her dress him up. Come on
over, they could practice. Come to her apartment, let her just do this and
the tape was his. So little. Why not?


Lips, eyelids, cheeks and nails - Tiffany mixed the paints herself while
Tim watched. Each carefully matched the dress, shoes, earrings and
stockings. The way everything coordinated somehow focused attention on
Timmie's swollen lips, pumped full with the doctor's callogen. That's not
all that swelled. Tiffany's next door neighbor was a pre-op transsexual
with all the equipment to let him experience femininity. So now, in a
borrowed under rigging, Timmie experienced it from jiggling C cups to an
imitation mound that was furred between his legs. Worse yet, never very
big, Tim was wimpy looking guy, but shaved of body hair - he made a pretty
nifty girl.


"So you rated me 'Adequate' in my evaluation this year, Eh, Mr. Tim?
Adequate? Minimal raise? You bastard. You really worked me over, eh Boss?"
Tiffany's eyes burned into the squirming blond bombshell, glimmering in
front of the mirror. "Yea, you're going to get a date for that dance
Saturday night. A vixen like you needs a boyfriend. And tonight we're
going trawling for Mr. Right!"


"Boyfriend?" Tim was truly frightened. There was no way he could tell that
lovely in the mirror from the real thing. And if he couldn't find a fault
- yikes, even though down deep under his girdle and panties he felt the
most egregious fault straining hard to get loose.


"Uh-huh," Tiffany finished her makeup at the vanity, "A boyfriend's
someone who'll take us out at least three times and buy us the very best
dinner in town. Tonight's Wednesday, that's the first date. Then there's
Friday, and of course there's the big costume ball, no pun intended, on
Saturday. I think the dinner ought to be Friday night, right?"
Timmie blushed red, "I've got to get a date for the ball by picking
somebody up a guy tonight? Dressed like this? And get him to take me out
on Friday? As a girl?"


"Not just as a girl," Tiffany stood now and smoothed her own green skirt
in the long mirror beside Timmie. "But as a smouldering sex-pot. And don't
forget the dinner, shrimp appetizer and lobster ought to do it."
"Dinner?" Timmie's eye's opened wide and the pink lips formed an 'O', "But
when a guy buys a girl.... I mean if a girl orders something that
expensive....... He's going to expect.... Tiffany, I can't," The blond
twirled to the mirror again, tugging at her skirt, "Dressed like this,
spending a lot of some stranger's money, he'll just naturally think
that....."


"Quite a problem, eh, little boss?" Tiffany handed Timmie a pink clutch
purse crammed full of cosmetics. ""Here you might need these as well...."
She handed a slim box of glow in the dark strawberry flavored condoms. "It
never hurts to be safe. Well it hurts sometimes, but it's still safe."
The blond looked dazed as Tiffany grabbed an arm and walked them toward
the door. "We'll start at the straight bars Timmie and I'll give you till
midnight. Better work fast or else we'll have to prowl some of the leather
'n links places where they're not so nice to the girls they lasso. If you
know what I mean."


Tim's mind was barely accepting the mess. Here he stood, a twenty eight
year old executive, trapped in the body of a twenty four year old
nymphette. Blond curls cascaded well down his back and his sensitive new
tits scraped inside the satiny top of the back buttoned dress that
imprisoned him from neck to micro short hem. He heard his sparkling pink
nylons swish as he teetered for balance in the heel that tipped him up and
forward. In the mirror he saw the effect was to bend his knees and thrust
both his new breasts and buns out and up. Wherever his hands fluttered,
then new long nails flashed like gems and those lips..... His lips were
the most terrible part of the display since they just exactly matched
every other single thing that sent sexy signals to any male's gonads.
Somehow, this all had to be stopped. But without the tape, Tiffany was in
charge.


Timmie stumbled in the skyscraper heels and wobbled against the corseting
as the door closed behind them, "Look, I'll redo that evaluation Tiffany.
Maybe I was a little strict...."
"Strict?" his secretary giggled, "We'll discuss strict over the next few
days and yea," she said holding the car door for the reluctantly pinked
beauty, "You will redo that evaluation. Lots of things are going to get
redone." For a moment Tiffany watched the curly headed blond yank at the
micro skirting, then, with a menacing red smirk, she dropped a glistening
pair of chrome cuffs on Timmie's lap and slammed the door closed.

Part Two

Humiliation, humans are the only animals that feel it. People will die to
avoid it. Rational men grow hostile in the face of disgrace, women freeze.
Tim, a twenty eight year old business executive sat disgraced by his
secretary. Through blackmail and drugs he was now a blonded, bimbo in a
flashy pink mini dress - bait for the male sharks at the trendiest
singles' bar in town. Everything about his new identity as Timmie
screached sex. His tits and ass swelled against the glimmering satiny
dress. Timmie's heels and earrings were long and razor thin. A cloud of
hair framed a soft doe eyed face painted to carefully enhance fat pink and
shiny lips. Long pink nails clutched at either a short hem or a small
purse engorged with cosmetics, condoms and a set of implacable handcuffs.
"Smile Sweetness," Tiffany, Tim's secretary and tormentress hissed to her
sexy puppet, "Here come a couple of prosperous hunks."
Timmie remembered the rules.

It was Wednesday night. The costume ball was
Saturday and Tiffany insisted that Timmie would go, with a date, a
boyfriend. Tonight they were trolling for boys, a man who would have to
take Timmie home and to an expensive dinner at least once before the ball
that weekend. Without the boyfriend, Tim wouldn't get the incriminating
video back. His job hung on his performance and the two studs who were
coming their way seemed hung in an entirely different fashion.
Three hours later, closing time. Rock offered to drive Timmie back to
Tiffany's apartment. Tiffany murmured something in his ear and gave him
the keys. He'd have to follow Timmie up, have to open the door.


"Somebody might see, we've got to hurry Rock," Timmie's eyes darted about
as quickly as his tongue. They were through the lobby, Timmie heard his
heels click on the hard floor and felt his tits jiggle and sway as Rock
slowly guided him toward the elevator. Rock's support was necessary for a
high heeled, tight skirted blond with both hands cuffed tightly behind. "I
shouldn't have let you make me put these things on. I.... I don't remember
the key in my purse...." The elevator opened to reveal another couple
aboard coming up from the parking garage below.
"It's alright Dear," Rock smiled, his voice loud enough for all to hear.
"I know we left the key to those things somewhere in bed, we'll just have
to root around under the covers."


"Underneath the..... You mean they're in the....." Tim felt his shame burn
deeply. His maleness wanted to fight out, the totally female packaging was
terrible enough, but the others didn't know about that part of his
predicament. Of course the shameful Timmie costume would have embarrassed
most women anyway. But Tim's plight went even beyond both of those
problems. He was handcuffed, tightly wrapped into a blond and satined
swishing girl bundle, teetering atop the cruelest heels and his hands were
joined shamefully and obviously above his newly jiggling rear.
The other man looked uncomfortable but his date smiled at Timmie's dismay.
No one said a word until the portals opened on Tiffany's floor. In moments
Rock pulled his reluctant date through the door and toward the bedroom.
"It's fine now Timmie, Tiffany told me about your little game and I'm
really a pretty open guy. So?"
So? Rock towered over Tim, even in the tall heels. What was it he
expected? If he knew Timmie's secret..... Did he? Was he? "Uh, just
exactly how would you like to, er have me play, my, uh, game?"
"Well, I think I'll just sit over there and watch for a while. That ought
to be fun, right?"
"What precisely, would you like to watch?" Tim tried a coy smile, tried to
tease as much out of the big guy as possible. "I mean, how would you like
me to, um.... start?"
He plopped into a bedroom chair, "Well in that get-up I figure just seeing
you root around in there ought to be worth my while, eh? This is really
kinky."
Root around? Where? Tim's mind raced. He watched his date's eyes roam to
the bed and back, and it came to him. The keys, of course. Somewhere in
that tightly made bed were the keys to Timmie's problems. And with his
hands hampered behind him, in that tight flashing outfit, he'd somehow
have to pull and maybe even chew his way to the things.
"Hello, what's this?" Rock poked around under him and came up with a white
lacy sleeping blindfold. "Hey, hold a minute Baby, let's make this a
little more interesting, eh? How 'bout you come on over here and kneel
down. This thing gives me a great idea!"
Kneel down? In front of this guy? Tim knew the blindfold was inevitable.
He knew he was going to have to search for the keys without any light. He
understood that this big man would be watching him stumble blindly now,
first for the bed then through it for a tiny key. But even though the
stark finality of this sentence provoked his fears, the thought of having
to kneel, cuffed, heeled, hosed and dressed between this stranger's legs
while his sight was robbed from him........ No, too much. He had to run.
Had to escape. Forget the video. Forget Tiffany. Somehow......
Rock's voice was soft, yet his words carried a hypnotic power tugging
Timmie over and down,"Hey, Girl. I said, Œhereı." The lacey white eye
blinder dangled low between his legs, close into his bulging crotch.

*** ** ***

"He watched me stumble and fumble for half an hour. It was terrible. I
knew that everything I had, showed through my clothes. My skirt hiked way
up to my waist and those frilly red panties came out. And my breasts
tossed from the exhaustion. Without my eyes the noisy rustle of all that
satin was unbearable. I could feel his heat building all the way across
the room." Timmie was still sobbing at the memory as Tiffany smiled and
listened to the blond's story. "I tried to rub that damned blindfold off
but it caught on my earrings. So I staid in the dark the whole time. That
bastard actually spun me around before setting me off and it took me five
minutes of bumping into things before I got smart enough to crawl around
instead of trying to teeter on those heels to find the bed."
"He was right behind you when I came in. You should have seen the look on
his face. I'll bet that's how Hinkley must have looked when he saw Jody
Foster's Academy Award dress"
"And he's taking me out again tonight, but you can't make me go like this.
Oh please Tiffany, not dressed like this!" Timmie looked down and surveyed
her gleaming blackness from toe to chest. The outfit was the latest thing
from an company called Aqua-Girl. A technological breakthrough of
malevolent purpose. The designer discovered how to bond breathable colored
spandex to tissue-thin vulcanized rubber. So Timmie was encased, scooped
neck to heels in the tightest, stretchiest covering known to, and lusted
over by man. "I'm a fetish wet dream in this stuff. And with this damned
scoop, and the way you've rouged me, you can see clear down my front!"
"He'll be talking to your cleavage all night. Even your corset and
stockings are made out of the hot-green stuff. And don't you just love
those little high heeled bootlets? They go right along, huh? Neon red
skyscrapers, wow! And that wide thick red plastic belt. Sizzling. I like
your red plastic gauntlets and the way they match your earrings, nails,
lips and your doggy collar. Whoa. You're a turn on. Remember now, order
pricy stuff, lobster and like that," Tiffany looked at her watch, "We've
got a moment before the boys are due Dear. Let's get you squirming a
little. Tell me about the special features of your, uh, outfit."
Timmie shook her bright blond curls free from her frightened eyes and
looked down. She knew there was no choice, so she turned to the mirror,
"This is so repulsive Tiffany. These cuffs, the collar and ankle straps
all have O rings attached. So does my belt. And under my skirt at least
these rubber tights go all the way beneath my corset so he can't get to
my, er, my, surprise. But, of course there's the zipper that goes down the
back of my seat and under in case I have to go to the bathroom. I guess if
he ever got to pull that around far enough, I'd be in big trouble." A
doorbell cut Timmie short.
Moments later two men escorted their dates down toward the elevator. The
blond minced along in a long, skin tight calf length neon green dress that
impeded her movements almost as effectively as her towering red heels. Her
smiling date carried a small red mystery pouch she'd handed him as they
left. Neither of them knew it contained a half dozen tiny locks along with
another half dozen condoms. Once again, the keys were missing.

Part Three

And to top it off, Timmie was boiling from three Œludes disolving in his
mouth and dripping forcefully into his overheated system. Rock sat on the
couch, Timmie was down on the floor. Each of the rubber ladyıs struggles
set her curls and wiggling tits ajiggle. And the blond struggled like a
fresh caught carp on the dock. But tiny locks connecting her red gloved
hands to her red ankle strapped spikes kept the scooped necked bimbo
kneeling between Rocks giant thighs. ³Comeon Rock,² Timmie knew his
swollen red lips were dripping wet. ³Lemme outta these things.... This...
isnıt..... ergh.... funny anymore.²
³Girl, you sure enough turn me on, tell you what,² he slid forward on the
couch. ³You get me out, maybe Iıll let you out.²
³Get you out? How.... I mean,² Timmie shook and pulled twisting to look
back over his shoulder at the bedroom door closed behind Tiffany and her
friend. His earrings splayed wide and as he swirled back to look at Rocks
bulbous crotch through Bambi eyes. ³You donıt mean to ask me. Um.... ok,
let my hand loose so I can..²
³Teeth it open Babe. Comeon,² he grabbed the blondeıs head and tugged it
downward.... ³Get that mouth warmed up for my friend Maker.²
³Maker? Who.... whoıs,² Timmie felt the sweat dripping from under his
crushing skirting to dribble down his thighs. He knew what Rock meant.
This bubble headed blond in the flashing black and red rubber costume was
in no position to argue. He was in a position that only cock suckers ever
got to view their men. And he knew that the big guy was going to insist
that those blond curls roll over his huge thighs as those white teeth
poked through the fattened red lips to tug down Rockıs fly to let the
blond meet ... his ... Maker!
It was afterward as Rock was leaving, Timmieıs face and mouth still
drooling thick cum strings, that Rock revealed his secret, ³You know, if
Tiffany hadnıa told me Babe - Iıda never guessed. Canıt wait to get your
story at the Ball tomorrow, heh heh. In fact, canıt wait to get a ball
after the ball either.²
***
³He knew all night? And...² Fifteen hours had passed. It took Timmie two
showers, five tooth brushings and gargling with everything from Lavoris to
bourbon before the oily taste got masked. And now Tiffany was masking him.

She was gorgeous as she nodded her head, ³Sure he knew. I couldnıt risk
getting beat up by some fag basher enraged over your little secret. I
called him up before dinner last night, seems he couldnıt resist you eh,
Cutie?² Her hand adjusted Timmieıs petticoats one last time.
His costume was outrageous. He was corseted down to twenty three inches
and pumped up into D cups capped with big button nipples. His slip was
snug ivory nylon from ankle to scoop neck mincing his step to just four
inches. But the damn thing had a cutout, a heart shaped vent that left his
buns up and bare. There were no panties, at lest not for his loins. Over
that a wide transparent hoop then fully four floor length petties that
kept his skirt way out and over his five inch bootlets. Timmieıs dress was
a 19th century wonder, all gay silk in the lushest rose, off the shoulder
with sleeves that ended in poofs of multi layered lace. His hands were
bare except for three inch nails painted the same rich pink as his lush
lips. It was hard to see anything through three layers of flirty lashes
and sheıd made him go to the department store cosmetic clerks to order a
Œfull-slutı look for the evening. Worse, sheıd made him go, as Tim!
And then the four last touches. ³I read about these in a story somewhere
Dear. Like them?²
He hated them. First, this eighteenth century lady had her wrists wired
tight behind her, up into the mammoth floppy bow that mimicked a bustle.
Over these were wrapped big thick ropes that appeared easily lost by the
prisoner. Ropes that covered her real bindings. She was an ersatz captive,
perhaps a pirateıs prize. Then, Timıs mouth was stuffed full with last
nightıs panties, still tasting strongly of Tiffany. It was the Crazy Glue
painted over his lips that kept those sodden dainties deep in Timmieıs
mouth.

Finally, a sheer gag was wrapped about his head, a Hollywood gag,
the type the victim could easily wag off, only this one was lightly glued
in place beneath Timmieıs tiny nose, his shiny wet lips seen easily
through the misty fabric. To anyone, Timmie seemed the willing victim. The
play coquette. The pirateıs treasure. In fact he was corseted into the
strictest posture forcing his jouncing breasts up on display. His stilt
heels, fully five inches of them, kept his knees bent, his ass out and
reinforced the offerings on his chest. That inner skirting made walking
difficult, running impossible, and stairs undoable. Finally his wrists and
lips were stilled implacably while he only seemed to pretend. That was the
package that Rock collected as he came to meet his date. Oh yea, a meeting
Tiffany was good enough to arrange... in her bedroom!
Not too much later, Timmie peered backwards into the darkness of his hoops
and petties. Once again he knelt, this time over the bed, his great chest
poking into the spread. And there was another spread. In fact, it was
Timmie.


³When did you first decide to become a girl. I mean, full time like this,²
Rock spread the blondeıs buns. ³Oh come on, you can stop pretending about
that gag, Babe,² Timmie felt the dripping wet tip snuggle into the top of
his crack. But with Rockıs big hands on his shoulders there was no
standing up, no rolling away. He knew that he was little more than a
target. A blond, petticoated, high heeled bound object. It was one thing
to work Rod up to attention with his bound hands. Maybe it was the four
Œludes, Tiffany wrapped into his mouth-cramming underwear, that now
disolved, made it not quite so awful to anoint the bulbous thing with its
own pre-cum. But now Timmie understood that instead of his tightly glued
lips, he was bound to give his Maker another home, one never before
invaded. One that lay micrometers away . As Tim tried to struggle around
within his crushing corset... Tried to peer over the mounds of petties and
hoop that kept him from witnessing his deflowering.... As he tried to
explain through glued lips and panty stuffed mouth that he wanted none of
this. Wanted, demanded, that this fearfulness stop. Before... before....
As all of those things happened to that pile of silkened blond,
defenselessly wriggling and kicking her hosed and heeled feet uselessly
upon the bed, only one thing was shamefully clear. The terms of his
impalement were making Tim erect..... Timmie, the bubble headed DATE BAIT
was caught, face down, between a Rock..... and a hard place.


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