Test Dummy

After that first time with Adam and Andrew, I was confused and uncertain and ashamed.

On the one hand, I couldn't deny that they'd both crossed a line with me. They'd taken me without asking. I had been used.

On the other hand, on some level... I'd enjoyed being used.

After the initial shock, I had been aroused by being used by them like a convenient body for them to fuck. It had turned off my ever-humming brain and had made me into an animal. For a little while, I had been nothing but a slut. Not myself, with my history and my memories and my family, just their bitch.

I was turned on by the fact that when they had looked at me, they'd looked at my mouth and my body and my ass and they had thought: I'm going to have that.

I found myself jerking off to the memory of it when I was lying in on weekend mornings. I was so aroused by thinking about the dirty, abject pleasure of being the only one naked and the only one who was getting fucked. And then, Adam taking me again, just he and I on his bed a couple of hours later, he knowing that I wouldn't fight him off, I would only protest mutely as he conquered me.

I began to wonder if in fact I wasn't bi after all, but entirely gay. All I could think about, when I thought of sex, was Adam and Andrew taking me at each end and me blindly squirming beneath them, receiving them.

This is who I am, I thought. I'm a bottom. I'm not anything else.

Then things became a lot more complicated, because I fell in love with a girl.

I was delaying entry into university because I wanted to take a course to help me prepare for my studies. So I was spending a year at a community college.

And halfway through my first week, I saw this girl.

At first I hadn't noticed her because our paths had barely crossed. And she dressed and styled herself in such a way that I somehow missed her.

But then, one morning outside, I was just about to go in when I saw her chatting to someone on the top step. I couldn't take my eyes off her.

She was slim and not very tall, dressed in dull clothes: dark jeans, boots, multiple layers, an anorak, a scarf. Her hair was in a pixie cut with bangs that she kept having to flick out of her face. She had large round glasses, and she appeared to be not wearing makeup.

She looked like the cutest boy ever. Her face was smooth and pale but she had red cheeks.

She was talking to my friend Melissa. I paused, hovering, hoping Melissa would notice me, which she did. She greeted me and we said hello and chatted.

The boyish girl stood there, smiling. I glanced at her and nodded briefly. I noticed she had a pride flag pin on her anorak. I had one on my own coat.

"Oh," Melissa finally said, "Harriet, this is my pal Ali."

"Hi," I said.

"Hello," said Harriet. We made a little small talk and, just like that, I seemed to have become friends with Harriet.

She was friendly and sociable and laughed a lot. It probably helped that Melissa had introduced us: Melissa was a great introducer of people. She was black-haired (she was part Lebanese) and sexy and funny, although I liked her too much as a friend to want to fool around with her, and anyway she preferred big strapping guys, like... well, Adam and Andrew, in fact.

Soon, I found myself going for coffee with Harriet fairly regularly and falling for her in the most hopeless way.

I loved her delicate features, her good humour, the way she was the same with everyone.

She was doing an art course and from time to time she worked as a life model, to help pay the bills.

I wished that I was one of the artists who could see her, because although she disguised her slender body under layers of clothing, I couldn't stop myself from fantasising about what she looked like when she wore nothing.

She had a tattoo on her collarbone and another on her right wrist.

Fairly early in our friendship, she told me she was genderfluid and generally went with they/she pronouns. I told her I was bi.

"Are you," she said with a hint of amusement.

"Yes."

"Really? Or just bicurious?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Well, a lot of straight guys claim to be bi but actually they don't do anything about it."

"Oh, I'm bi," I said. "In fact, I'm..."

I paused and felt nervous. Harriet looked at me intently and smiled.

"It's okay," she said softly.

"I most recently had a thing with a couple of guys," I said, dry-mouthed.

"A couple of guys? At the same time?"

"Yeah."

She smiled encouragingly.

"In fact," I said, "both of them still claim to be straight."

"So, okay," she said thoughtfully. "That's a little disingenuous."

"Well," I said, blushing, "that's how I lost my virginity."

She nodded, looking at me askance.

"How was it?" she said.

"It was a little bit intense."

"I've never had a threesome," Harriet said. "Don't feel like you have to go into details if you don't want to."

"Well, whatever you can imagine," I said, "it was probably like that."

"Oh," she said, "okay," and laughed.

"But," I said, "I'm definitely bi," and then blushed again at how clumsy it was to say so.

"But you've never been with a girl."

"No."

"Anyone you fancy?" She sipped her coffee and grinned at me merrily.

"I plead the Fifth Amendment," I said. She smirked.

I changed the subject. I didn't want to push it.

Over the course of the next few months, I saw nothing of Adam and Andrew, but Harriet and I began to get closer.

We liked each other's company. We had similar tastes in food and TV and movies.

I could cook, which endeared me to her roommate Charlotte, a plump, friendly lesbian who wore brightly-coloured clothes and shared Harriet's taste in large round glasses.

We started to have regular movie nights, where I would cook us dinner and then we would sit on the sofa and watch terrible romance movies and laugh at them.

And then came the evening that it all changed.

Harriet rang me at 6pm and said 'Come round, quick as you can. We've had a great idea.'

'Do you want me to get any shopping?' I said.

'No no, don't worry about that. We're all going out.'

'Okay. Give me half an hour to get ready.'

'No need for that,' she said, and chuckled. 'We'll get you ready.'

She hung up.

I was rather mystified, but I had a quick shower, dressed and headed around to Harriet and Charlotte's place.

When Harriet opened the front door, at first I didn't recognise her.

She was dressed as a guy, in an old-fashioned three piece suit and shirt, and she had trimmed her hair and slicked it down, and she had a sandy false moustache.

I must have looked dumbfounded, because she rocked with laughter and stood aside to let me in.

'You're going out like that?' I said. But part of me was rather intrigued, because she made for a very cute guy.

'Not just that,' she said. Charlotte appeared in the hall.

'You're going as her girlfriend,' she said to me, grinning.

'What,' I said.

'We're going to give you a makeover,' Harriet said. 'We've got loads of clothes and stuff. We're going to make you a girl.'

'I'm not dressing up as a girl!'

'Oh, come on,' Harriet said, clutching my arm and smiling at me. 'It'll be so much fun.'

'Nobody's going to believe I'm a girl,' I said, but part of me was thinking Wait, before you definitely refuse, just think...

'We'll be the judge of that,' Charlotte said. ''Mon in.'

Harriet led me into the living room. It was scattered with vintage clothes and there was makeup on the table and a selection of wigs. I began to get an idea of what the girls had in mind for me. There was an open bottle of wine and three glasses.

'First things first,' Harriet said. 'Show us your chest.'

I blinked at her, then lifted my t-shirt. I am naturally moderately hairy.

'Right,' she said. 'Can't have that.'

She handed me a box containing a tube of hair removal cream, a packet of disposable razors and a can of shaving foam.

'Go and be smooth,' she said.

'How do I use this stuff,' I said, peering at the instructions.

'Just apply it, wait about five minutes and then scrape it off. Then have a shower and come in.'

Several minutes later I was sitting on a chair in their bathroom in only my boxer shorts, my chest smeared with hair removal cream, waiting patiently. To my surprise, it didn't sting or burn. I had shaved my face and my shoulders and arms, but I drew the line at shaving my legs; it would have taken forever.

After I'd got all the cream and hair off, my chest and stomach were smooth and hairless, and also pink from all the scraping I'd done. I took off my shorts and got under the shower.

When I was at last clean, I dried off, put my shorts back on and then, on an impulse, gathered my clothes up and went back to the living room.

Harriet smiled as I walked in, wearing just my boxers.

'Very nice,' said Charlotte cheerfully.

'I don't know why I'm letting you do this to me,' I said.

'Because it'll be fun,' Harriet said. 'Now. We were talking, and we thought that no-one's going to believe you as a real femme girl, because you're too skinny, but we thought we'd go a little bit sort of gypsy goth?'

She held up a black wig.

'The kind of girl who doesn't shave her pits,' Charlotte said.

'Okay,' I said dubiously. Harriet indicated a chair, and I sat on it. She began to apply foundation to my face.

Charlotte was rooting through the pile of vintage clothes and she held up a rather ratty-looking pair of black briefs.

'These are perfect,' she said.

'Ooo, yeah,' Harriet said. She turned to me.

'Well,' she said, 'try them on.'

'You mean...' I said, blushing.

'It's nothing I haven't seen before on other guys, and she's not interested,' said Harriet.

Charlotte threw the briefs to me and I caught them, and then I stood up and quickly pulled my boxers down over my hips, so that I was naked with the two young women. Then I stepped into the briefs and pulled them up. It wasn't all that easy to keep my genitals inside them, but they did fit.

Already I'd crossed a line: Harriet and Charlotte had seen me naked. Having done it, when Charlotte found another pair a few minutes later that she thought were a better fit, it was easy to do it again, and soon I was quite used to slipping into and out of a state of nakedness.

'Nice ass,' said Charlotte, grinning.

'You're objectifying me,' I said, smiling and feeling my face go crimson. But I did feel rather like an honorary girl. The only thing that could have made it more exciting would have been if Harriet, too, had been changing her clothes, but I knew that she was getting to see all of me--if that excited her in any way.

They gave me a padded bra and a silk shirt and black jeans, and a selection of bangles and necklaces. Harriet fitted the wig onto my head, and did my eyes and lips and cheeks, then they gave me a dark jacket.

At last, Harriet held up a mirror so I could see myself.

A pale, black-haired girl with fine cheekbones looked back at me curiously. I had a scarf around my throat to hide my adam's apple. I had pierced my ears some months earlier, and dangly earrings hung from them instead of my usual small ornamental earrings.

I didn't think I looked very convincing, but Harriet declared herself satisfied, and finally, at half past nine, the three of us set out.

The evening itself was fun. I felt very nervous walking into a bar in case I met anyone I knew, but I didn't. Instead I felt myself being checked out by some of the guys.

Charlotte had wanted to give me tight jeans to show off 'that ass', but Harriet had ruled them out; she said they would give away that I was a guy, so my clothing was fairly baggy.

I didn't want to talk much in case I gave the game away, so I stayed close to Harriet. She seemed to like this, and held my hand.

'Are you enjoying yourself,' she murmured to me, around half past ten.

'Mm-hm,' I said quietly. 'It's kinda nerve-wracking, though.'

'Being a girl?'

I nodded.

'Now you know,' she said simply.

We looked into each other's eyes.

I understood: Harriet wasn't doing this to prank me. It was to help educate me. I felt moved.

'I'd like to kiss you now,' she said.

'I'd like that too.'

She leaned in and we closed our eyes and kissed.

I felt the prickle of her false moustache against my face.

Under the table, her hand touched the front of my jeans and she placed it on my cock, then curled her fingers around my genitals, holding them through the fabric of my jeans and briefs. I gasped into her mouth and began to get hard.

Harriet pushed her tongue into my mouth. I made a little whimper.

After a long moment, she took her tongue out and drew away from me, looking at me, a half-smile on her face. She let go of my cock and balls and brushed a stray hair out of her eyes.

The rest of the evening out passed in a blur. Charlotte met some friends and decided to go dancing with them. Out on the street, Harriet held my hand.

'Shall we go back to mine,' she said lightly.

'Mmm,' I said.

We flagged a cab and spent the taxi ride kissing.

Once we were in her front door, Harriet was dragging me to her room, pulling at my clothes. I kicked off the shoes and she dragged my jacket off me. We went into her room still kissing, she unbuttoning my shirt and me unbuckling the jeans. I shut her bedroom door behind me with my foot.

She yanked the shirt from my upper body, reached behind me and opened the bra. It fell off, the pads falling to the floor. She pulled the wig from my head as I was stepping out of the jeans.

Then she was standing before me, still fully clothed in her mannish suit and false moustache, and she peeled my briefs off me, stripping me naked before her.

I stood there, my arms by my sides, completely exposed. I was still in my feminine makeup. My body was shaven, at least above my groin; I hadn't been able to completely shave my genitals.

Looking at me the entire time, Harriet kicked off her shoes, took off the jacket and waistcoat, peeled off her false moustache, and then opened her trousers and dropped them.

Underneath the trousers, she was not wearing any pants or shorts.

Instead, a strap-on dildo swung in the dim light of her room.

'I am going to fucking destroy you,' she said softly.

'Oh god,' I moaned.

She walked around behind me, picking a bottle of lube off her dresser, and then I felt her smearing the cool lube into the cleft of my ass.

'Do you want that,' she said.

'Yes,' I gasped, and even being asked if I wanted it was arousing. I trembled.

She gave me a push, and I moved towards the bed.

'On the bed,' she said. 'Face down.'

Obediently, I lay face down on the bed. I heard rustling, and then a black sleep mask went over my eyes, and a ball gag parted my lips and was tied behind my neck. I made an incoherent moan. Then Harriet was cuffing my wrists behind my back.

Naked and helpless, I shivered as she got on the bed and kneeled behind me.

Then the dildo was pushing between my buttocks, and I couldn't help squirming with reluctance, as she pushed it deeper into the cleft. I made a noise of protest.

'If I do anything you don't like,' she said, 'cross your fingers.'

I kept my fingers uncrossed, and made more protesting moans as she targeted my asshole with the dildo and pressed into it.

And then, I felt the head of it parting the tight muscle, and the slippery shaft of the dildo penetrated me. And the relief of it made me give a muffled scream into Harriet's pillow.

She began to bugger me in slow, deep strokes and I submitted to it, utterly, the naked, blindfolded, gagged young man in handcuffs beneath her. She made me her bitch.

I had fantasised about having sex with Harriet. But not like this. In the fantasies, I had been taking her from behind, in the shower, or in the woods, or in her living room.

But not her dressing me up and making me her girl for the evening, then taking me home and stripping me, and fucking me up my arse.

'Oh god, that's so fucking hot,' she panted. 'God, I could drill your arse all night...'

'MMMMFFF!'

'Seeing you like this, all helpless... oh fuck, yes...'

I didn't have to pretend to be helpless. There was nothing I could do. I was naked and handcuffed and blindfolded, and a girl was riding my hips with a dildo up my ass. I moaned out my ecstatic humiliation. It was overwhelming.

Harriet kept pumping into me for some minutes, then I felt her leaning over me and realised she had taken off her shirt. Some cloth fell onto my bare back and was taken off, and I dimly guessed that it must have been whatever she was using for chest binding.

Then she opened the handcuffs and parted my arms, holding me down at the wrists, and I felt her bare breasts and torso on me. She was lying fully on me, still fucking me. It was more comfortable without having my hands cuffed behind my back, and I realised this way she could see my fingers.

Then she let go of my wrists and my ball gag was taken out.

'Oh god,' I gasped, feeling the dildo filling me up.

'Say you love it,' she said.

'I love it.'

'From now on,' she said, panting, 'whenever you tell anyone about our relationship, you have to tell them I fuck you up the arse.'

'Ohhh...'

'Say you're my bitch.'

'I'm your bitch.'

'Are you gonna come.'

'I don't know... oh god...'

'Do you want to fuck me.'

'Y-yes.'

'Do you think you're in any condition to?'

'Uuuhhh...'

'I said I'd fucking destroy you. You look pretty destroyed to me, at this point.'

'Oh god...'

'I dunno if you have the power,' she said breathlessly, 'what with me buggering you till you don't even know your own name.'

And she reached around me and began to jerk me off.

It was the final crowning humiliation. In seconds, I felt it happening and I was moaning as I came into Harriet's cupped hand.

Then she pulled the sleep mask off my eyes and wiped my own cum into my face.

And then she pulled out of me.

I lay there, half-blinded, panting, shocked, and I blinked the cum out of my eyes and looked over my shoulder at her.

She was kneeling on the bed, smiling a slightly mocking smile, sweaty and flushed, herself rather breathless.

'Well,' she said. 'I made you submit. Do I have to do all the work around here?'

I looked at her in wonder, and then her meaning became clear.

'You will pay,' I said, turning over.

'I don't think so,' she said, grinning, and started to move off the bed. But I grabbed her.

We wrestled, a bit drunk and very inexpertly, on the damp tangle of sheets and bedclothes. I managed to hold Harriet down with my legs and unbuckle her strap-on, and she cursed as I pulled it off and threw it in the corner, but then we were grappling again.

She got me on my stomach with her arm around my throat and she was pushing one finger at my still slippery arsehole, but by using all my strength I was able to break out of it, and Harriet swore as I slipped around behind her.

Now she was naked, her body was slender and boyish. Her breasts were small, with rosy nipples. She didn't shave her pubes, which were almost ginger.

I got my arms around her waist and she was on her stomach on raised elbows, trying to clamp her legs together. I managed to splay her arms out and then part her legs, and as she gasped with frustration I mounted her from behind and reached down with one hand on my cock.

'No,' she grated, and I looked at her fingers, but they remained uncrossed.

Even though I'd just come, wrestling with Harriet while we were both naked had made me hard again. I felt the cleft of her vulva and I pushed up with my hips.

'Unh!' she gasped, and then as I entered her, she shuddered and moaned 'Oh, god.'

It was the first time I'd ever had sex with a girl. And it was dirty, strenuous, rear-end sex on her mussed-up bed, after she'd comprehensively sodomised me. I looked down at Harriet's shoulder blades and bare back, glistening with perspiration as she moved with each stroke of my hips.