Author's Note: Long ago, I roleplayed a play-by-post erotic fantasy with a girl named Christine, who amazed me with her deviously humiliating responses. What follows is a reconstruction of the scenario we roleplayed, which has ever since remained a favorite erotic fantasy. Wherever you are now, Christine, i hope you're enjoying powerful orgasms! You gave this burgeoning little sissy a fantasy i would masturbate over for years to cum...
All characters are 18 or over.
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David didn't want to attend ballet class, but his mother insisted that he would if he wanted to go on living under her roof rent-free. She turned off the TV one day right as he was about to fight an end boss and said, "I'm not about to let you spend an entire year sitting on the couch with your PlayStation." She had filled out an online application from the local community college and submitted it on his behalf.
She had even gone so far as to purchase ballet tights for him, which was embarrassing enough, but as he was in the locker room changing into them, he learned to his horror that they were a girl's leotard and tights. A stock photo of an attractive teen girl doing a pirouette on the leotard's packaging smiled back at him as if bemused by his predicament. Yet he didn't have anything else to wear, and class was starting in mere minutes.
He stumbled into the dance room a bit awkwardly, very much aware of how snug the leotard was as it stretched over his crotch, how it rode up between his taut, clenched buttocks. He looked at the others in the class - all girls, all of them lithe and athletic and extremely sexy in their tights to the young man - and he felt a warm rush of mingled shame and lust wash over him. Some of the girls looked at him and smirked, and he began to feel his tights growing even more snug.
Risking a quick glance down at his crotch, David realized with horror that he had sprung a very obvious erection which was now stretching out his leotard crotch, pitching a little tent and obscenely bobbing.
One of the smirking girls turned to her neighbor and murmured, "Boys, always making fools of themselves." It was said just loud enough that David could hear her, and he awkwardly cupped his hands over his leotard-clad bulge. He could feel his face burning as he blushed.
The girl gave a little flick of her honey-gold ponytail and walked up next to where he stood by the mirrors and the barre. Watching him with an unnervingly unblinking stare, the girl lifted one graceful leg onto the barre and began to do her stretches. Each stretch gave him a generous view of her slim, perfectly toned teenaged body. "Are you just going to stand there like that all class?" she said, breaking the tension.
David's mouth had gone dry as he watched the girl stretching, unable to stop himself from ogling her lithe, athletic body sheathed in tights. He felt an enthusiastic throb in his leotard that forced him back to reality. Still blushing furiously, he nervously stammered, "Uhh...um, no...I..." He hesitantly removed his hands from his crotch and began trying to perform his own stretching exercises, hoping against hope for a return to some semblance of normalcy. He continued to feel terribly awkward as his persistent, protruding erection interfered with his movements.
He could hear quiet laughter coming from all directions. From the corner of his eye, David could see reflected in the mirror groups of girls snickering amongst themselves. He caught bits and pieces of their hushed conversations - words like "sissy" and "little pervert."
"You're really tense," the blonde girl said. "Is something the matter?"
David's head felt warm, and the room spun a bit as the unrelenting pressure of his shame gave him vertigo. His ears burned with every insult he overheard from the girls assembled behind him. He desperately grasped for some way to cling to his fleeting dignity.
"I'm...um...I mean," he sputtered, searching for the right words. "These aren't my tights!" he blurted out. "I mean, I didn't buy them! I mean, I..." As every attempted defense spilled out, he abandoned them, realizing how weird every declaration sounded. He needed to find the right words, some way to reassert his masculinity. Meanwhile, his penis continued to betray him, throbbing insistently against the straining lycra of his leotard and tights.
"Oh, I get it," she said. "They're, like, your sister's, right?" At last she giggled out loud. "Well, that's okay, I guess. I mean, it wouldn't be right if a guy wore that to class, but you're still just a boy. If you had longer hair, you might even look like a girl."
David's shame redoubled as she so easily cut down his remaining shreds of pride. His mother had always lamented that he was a late bloomer, and he'd long hoped for a growth spurt that had never arrived. He had wondered if he would always look younger than he was, and despite his mother's assurances that he might be thankful for that some day, up until now it had only served as a source of emasculation.
The blonde girl turned away from him and put her other leg up on the barre. David's gaze immediately shot to her delectable bottom, where her leotard hugged her tightly, emphasizing the curve of her white-tights-clad cheek. She leaned forward and threw a look over her shoulder, just in time to catch him staring at her butt.