The thump of my heart in my ears almost drowns out the slow, seductive music that is snaking its way through your apartment. I stand up straight, as I was told to, stark naked with my hands by my sides. I feel excruciatingly self-conscious, standing to attention in the middle of the room as you and your friend sip wine and converse in a low whisper. I stand facing you, separated from the soft, velour-upholstered sofa that you both sit in by a low table. In the middle of the table is a shopping bag from what looks like an expensive boutique, but not one that I'm familiar with.
This is all there has been so far: I arrived at your place about an hour ago, and was surprised to find your friend here, an attractive, stylish, composed woman with short blonde hair. You never introduced her, but simply led me to the living room where we are now and instructed me to strip for her. After a moment's hesitation and a sharp look from you, I obeyed, as she looked me up and down with a slight smirk. And that was it. You got wine and the pair of you chatted on the sofa while I stood, my cock still soft but my whole body trembling.
"Well," you say, suddenly raising your voice so I can hear, "let's get started." You lean forwards, putting your wine on the table and pick up the shopping bag. Reaching inside you bring out a handful of what looks like fabric. In the low light of the apartment I can make out a mixture of colours - pink, black, blue, yellow and more. I don't know what I'm looking at until you start separating the bundle out and laying them carefully on the table.
Panties. You lay out in neat rows what must be about a dozen pairs of women's panties. My heart starts to pump faster as I look at them. There are all manner of styles there, from super-plain white cotton panties, to lurid thongs. Your friend leans forward for a closer look as you finish laying them out and put the bag on the floor. "So," you smile at her, "which ones first?"
"Oh, I think we should get started with something simple. The white ones." She indicates the simple white cotton briefs, and you look up at me with a commanding smile.
"You heard the lady, put the white panties on." I knew it was coming of course, but still I shudder with the confirmation of what's going on. I'm to put on a little fashion show for you, I'm the entertainment for your friend tonight. I bite my lip, take control of myself and reach down for the white panties.
They're soft, and the largest underwear on the table. Even so, just as I thought these aren't designed for men - they're women's panties and they're tight as I pull them up my thighs. They're extremely plain, not even a trim, and the cotton elastic bites into me a little. You must have gotten the largest size for them to fit me at all, but they're still a little small for my frame. And of course, the biggest problem arrives when I pull them up to my waist and into position. There's no space in this design for the extra package that I'm carrying, my (still soft) cock and balls have to be carefully squeezed into the white cotton panties, and bulge at the front obscenely. Stretching the front of the panties of course means that the back cuts into my ass cheeks even tighter. The curls of my pubic hair aren't covered at all, but I manage to hide my genitals.
"Very good," you purr, "That's the idea. No matter what I want that cock of yours covered up by the panties. And if it gets uncomfortable, well then that's your own fault for being such a slut." Your friend giggles. "You're such a slut that you deserve to wear sexy lingerie, and that cock you're carrying around is just a problem you're going to have to deal with." I feel my skin start to prickle, my body getting hotter. My prick is still soft though, and still fits into the white cotton panties - just. "What do you think?" you ask your friend.
"He looks so pure and innocent in those," she muses, "that doesn't seem like a good fit at all. How about the blue ones?" She points to a powder blue pair, still simple but a little more sexily cut, and with a thin floral lace trim around the thighs.
"Put those on," you order, and of course I obey. This time the lace trim makes the panties cut into my thighs more, and the front dips down a little more too. It means I have to tuck and squeeze more to cover my member, but again I just about get it covered. "Turn around," you order, and when I do your friend laughs.
"I love how it bites into his ass like that, it's so hot." When I face you again she catches my eye. "Hey," she runs a finger around the rim of her wine glass idly, "you're a pretty sexy slut." I feel my face flush with humiliation and look down at the table, only to see rows of further humiliation to come.
The fashion show continues, and somehow I stay in control even though my heart seems fit to beat right out of my chest. There are ruffle-butt boy shorts, some side-tie blue and yellow bikini briefs for the beach, and I somehow manage to stay unaroused as you make me twirl and peruse me. I somehow manage to hide my manhood each time. But when you bring out the second bottle of wine, the tide turns against me.
"Ok, no more messing around," you say, and pick up a neon pink mesh thong. You throw it to me and I catch it, heart in my throat. "Time to get slutty."
These panties really are scandalous - just neon pink and virtually transparent - the mesh is almost see-through. I pull them up and the back of the thong slips between my ass cheeks. At the front my prick is barely contained. I have to turn it to the side, pressing it along my body so it can stay within the bright pink mesh. And as I'm doing that I get a sinking feeling as the bulk of me starts to grow, my prick starting to plump up.
"Oh, now that's fucking slutty," your friend giggles. "I like how you can just see his cock so clearly through the fabric."
"Yeah, and the bright pink is really him, right?"
"Oh yeah, this is totally club whore style."
