Humiliating Hook Up

The camera shakily catches the young man waiting in the park. Gazing vaguely into the middle distance, he drinks from a thermos mug and sits on the wooden bench with his legs crossed. It appears to be a fair spring day. Blossoms have settled all around the park bench on which he coolly reclines.

On what is clearly a quiet afternoon, the large park looks to be sparsely populated. Other than the guy on the bench, only a few distant dog walkers and focused runners are visible on the rare occasion that the camera pans around.

The young man evidently considers himself to be totally alone and unwatched. This solitary state doesn't seem to put him at ease. A nervous energy characterizes his movements.

A cigarette is nervously pulled from a pack in the messenger bag alongside him. The camera zooms in on the pair of black Chuck Taylors poking from the bag. The guy lights up, puffs on the cigarette and sips at his hot drink.

The camera then zooms in and clocks his features. A pretty bare face sits beneath a swath of dark wet hair slickly combed back. Skin pale and unblemished. Dark aviator shades cover his eyes. He's in his early to mid-twenties and a little on the short side. Slim everywhere except for a slightly paunchy middle.

The guy looks up from his nicotine induced reveries and retrieves a trilling phone from his pocket. As he studies it, the guy intermittently looks up and around. With a self-possessed scowl he surveys the quiet park, but his vigilance swiftly melts away when his gaze returns to the device.

When not transfixed by his phone or scowling around wearily, the guy occasionally glances down at his feet. He's hardly dressed for a leisurely afternoon in the park, but the boots on his feet are certainly the most startling part of his ensemble.

The pleasant weather suggests that there's barely any need for the tatty black leather bomber jacket he wears. It's evidently sported out of style rather than necessity. Beneath the open jacket is a fitted black shirt buttoned right up to the neck. His black denim clad legs are crossed. The bootcut jeans hug tight at his butt and thighs, and then flare out, thereby mostly obscuring his feet. One may presume that he's bare footed given the shoes in his bag, yet in the minutes that follow he does uncross and cross his legs a couple of times, inadvertently showing off the boots hidden by his long jeans.

At one point the camera rabidly tilts down and zooms in on the exposed footwear. The long bootcut jeans can't hide the fact that the guy is wearing a pair of particularly ostentatious women's platform ankle boots.

When the cigarette is finished the guy drops the butt and daintily crushes it with his platformed toe. Just then he looks up, shifts and repositions himself . Then he's bending down fiddling with the laces located on his lower left ankle The camera catches the hoist of his trouser leg and zooms in closer. Murmurs emanate from the Video Voyeur holding the camera.

The tottering platform ankle bootees scream 'Sissy'. The Punk Rock style black imitation leather ankle boots consist of a towering stand-alone heel and a snubby platformed toe. They barely creep north of his ankle. The laces threaded up the front of each bootie are clearly just decorative, as a small zip is nestled on the inside of each shoe.

Briefly revealed between the top of the boot and the bottom of his denim cuff is a chunk of black and white striped print nylon. An additional chink in his masculine armor. A shiny swath of bold black and white goth girl femininity flashed by the tiny gap created by his fiddling.

He quickly pulls down the jeans, covers the breach and glances around for witnesses. Nothing. Then his eyes are dragged back to the phone as it trills once again. A grin slips onto his handsome features. He glances around as if looking for the mobile correspondent in his immediate vicinity. A hook-up possibly? A pause follows. The guy seems to be considering something as a result of the last message sent his way. A smile and then he removes his sunglasses for the first time. Softer murmurs from the Video Voyeur indicate that she is indeed a woman. The hoped for hook-up in question maybe? Revealed beneath the glasses are a pair of big blue eyes emboldened by black eyeliner and eyeshadow. Sissy credentials confirmed, the guy shakes his head in a, 'I can't believe I'm doing this' manner and retrieves a tube of lipstick from his bag. After a quick look around to ensure that nobody is in the vicinity, the gothy looking sissy begins to paint his thin lips bigger with a tube of metallic purple lipstick.

At this point a few things are arguably clear from the illicit video clip. The guy is probably there to meet somebody who he is corresponding with on the phone. Perhaps a hook-up of a particularly kinky variety. It also appears that his exhibited sissyness is something ordinarily kept under wraps. Electronic encouragement compels him. The Chuck Taylors in his bag indicate that his journey to the park was not made wearing the foot contorting (and fresh out the box) platform boots. His painted eyes were obviously intended to be hidden by the shades and all outward signs of his sissyness would not have been previously apparent. So it's safe to surmise that the subject in the video could be acting out a fantasy in public with somebody else's encouragement.

But is a pleasurable rendezvous to follow? Or is the whole thing a malevolent ruse?

After some time spent focusing on the guy nervously painting his lips, the camera begins to shakily move from its static position. But this isn't the only additional movement. Two figures impinge on the shot. One from the left and one from the right. Clad in black and creeping, the men with pixel blurred faces advance on the benched sissy. Entirely unaware of the imminent danger that lurks nearby, the guy pouts with his freshly painted purple lips and taps at his phone. Selfie...

The Video Voyeur slowly moves forward towards the guy on the bench. The camera operator has to be out in the open, but the Sissy remains ignorant of the impending threat.

Then they're on him. Flying into center frame and pouncing. The Video Voyeur fails to avoid shaky-cam as her speed increases. The two men accost him. Pushing, pulling, jeering nonsensically, but saying nothing coherent. Digitally masked, a perverse lunacy energizes them. The pixel faced men grapple with the bewildered Sissy. He struggles to comprehend what is going on. They make it impossible for him to get up from the bench or fight back. They keep him sprawled out and slouched. No words will come. Despite losing his voice, his eyes scream. The camera is now in his face but the Sissy is blind to it.

His belt is splayed and so are his jeans. He only starts to realise what's happening after they rip off his jacket and playfully wrench down the zip on his left bootie. One of them pulls off the platform boot and tosses it away behind the filming Video Voyeur. The jeans are eased down past his butt. Black shirt buttons pop and lay with the blossoms. A tight red nylon vest is exposed beneath. A little too sheer for the menswear department...

The Sissy finally starts to fight out of panic and fright. Movements wild and desperate. Still unsure of what is actually happening, only his gradual forced exposure a sure reality. But he isn't a fighter and it shows. Can't throw a punch. Can't handle himself. His clumsy attempts at violence only aid his attackers. They easily restrain and coerce him into even greater humiliation. The camera gorges on it.

He wiggles and kicks his little feet impotently. One still booted and one clad in shiny striped hosiery. Thighs bare white beneath his sissy vest, the jeans bunch at his knees. The kicking only helps them to spin him and ease down the flared jeans. No movement would've been better for him. To fall into a crouch and hold onto his remaining attire would've been wise, but wisdom is lost in the wilderness of panic.

Instead the jeans are ripped from his legs and his body tugged from the bench onto the grass.

The stripping has taken mere seconds. The guy appears mortified to suddenly find himself sprawled out in a little red sheer vest, a shiny black nylon ladies thong, a pair of nylon black and white striped knee highs and one platform bootie.

Now he curls up, but it's far too late. An instinctive stance intended to protect what remains of his modesty. The camera eagerly eats up his pale white hairless legs. The Sissy clearly waxes. His shame radiates from blushing cheeks and teary eyes. The thin knee high socks scream for attention. Each sock ends with a thick swath of white at the toe and a chunky strip of white elastic below the knee. A chunky black/white print for the gothy fashionable femme. Yet the garish hosiery is the least of it...

The camera mesmerically closes in on the smooth narrow booty. His hairless white buttocks splayed either side of a skimpy black nylon thong. Surprisingly, a modest erection appears to be tenting the shiny pouch of the panties. Stylish punk rock guy has gone. Replaced by little miss nylon. His hands scramble for torn away duds, but it's no good, as the movement just shows off more of him. The vest rides up over a soft white belly. Love handles swallow thong elastic.

One of the attackers rips his vest to shreds, while the other lifts him up, sits down on the bench and works to topple the Sissy over his knee. The victim stumbles clownishly on one platform and places his one socked foot on the blossom strewn ground before going down and kicking his legs.

The notion of shouting for help seems to flutter across his anguished, bewildered face. Perhaps shame suppresses the impulse? Maybe the notion of being rescued by a passer-by while wearing a bitch's thong and knee highs is just unthinkable?

Tears erupt from his cosmetically darkened eyes and he mumbles a garbled plea for mercy. All fight seems to be drained from his exposed form. The secret bitch in him has been outed in public and on camera. It's clearly an emotional moment.

The struggle for long gone clothes over, his hands instinctively drift to cover his nylon clad package.

Pixel faced attacker one who destroyed the vest leans in and messes up his hair. Slick locks are disheveled into a frizzy mess. Attacker two drapes the wiggling rube over a black tracksuited knee. He kicks and moans, as his feet foolishly peddle in the air. A vicious spanking elicits a shrill bitch's squeal. The Sissy tries to hold it together after the humiliating verbalisation, but attacker two delivers a panty shredding wedgy to accompany a fresh flurry of stinging booty slaps. His pounded on buttocks quickly darken to match his crimson tear stained cheeks.

His dirty laundry is being literally aired in public. A penchant for feminine under things cruelly displayed to the fresh afternoon. Attacker two lifts him like a wilting rag doll. The Sissy comes down in an upright sitting position on Attacker one's lap. Attacker two pulls his protective hands from the little nylon package. For the first time we see that his nails are painted black.

"Please...just fucking leave me alone..." He is heard to moan through gritted teeth. The puppeteered ponce shrieks instinctively as he realises that the wedgy has spilled his small erect cock and balls from the hard worked panties.

Perched on the pervert's lap, he suddenly bucks like a startled pony. Something presumably nestles between his thong splayed buttocks. The Sissy flails at even the possibility of penetration. Video Voyeur (who is likely standing right before the sadistic scenario) zooms in tight on the jiggling junk. An aroused cock and hairless bollocks on display to all. Attacker two gyrates his hip for giggles and then changes tack, securing the lap perched Sissy in a full nelson. With his arms dangling aloft, the Sissy is powerless as attacker one lifts his legs and knees, spreading those thighs wide for the camera's eager lens. The guy kicks, but this only helps the peeled down thong get twisted further towards his knees. The camera catches a glimpse of a winking anus and zooms. Attacker two unzips and wrenches away the remaining platform boot, leaving the Sissy in only his garish, moist socks and presumably less likely to do any damage with his kicking. Restrained and folded up with his most intimate areas helplessly exposed, the Sissy's head soon drops in absolute despair. Visibly broken, the attackers cackle as they clownishly jerk him around like a sock puppet. His feet are practically in his dazed face when one of the camera woman's hands enter the frame with a black plastic bottle. Renewed shrieking and bucking commences, as lube is squirted into his exposed anus. Her finger smears and probes the way ahead into the Sissy's butt.

"Oh...oh...fuuuuuuuck."

The Video Voyeur then proceeds to giggle, as she films with one hand and uses the other to fit the mewling knee sock wearing bitch with a faux-ruby red butt plug.

Then as quickly as they were upon him, the attackers are off and gone. The Sissy is dumped unceremoniously onto the blossom strewn grass. The attackers and the intrusive Video Voyeur disappear back to where they came. The camera cuts to its original vantage point and zooms in.

Wallowing shocked on the grass, one of the Sissy's hands goes to his invaded butt, but he stops short of pulling out the plug. Unfortunately for the Sissy, they've swiped everything (including his tangled knickers) and left him with only the feminine nylon knee highs for coverage. His cock still juts forth and his balls dangle. Realizing this, his hands shoot down to cover them. He gingerly stands, but remains in a crouch. His wide eyes scan for the fleeing attackers, his clothes or any dreaded passers-by.

He is quite the picture. Pale, white, hairless skin. Hair messed up and pointing skyward. Tears moistening his anguished face, his panda bear black eyes getting bigger and bigger. The purple metallic lipstick is untouched, but this only serves to render him even more Sissy looking.

Then he spots it and the camera follows his startled glance. A little white plastic bag sits propped up on the grass ahead of him. The prize is in a significantly more exposed location than his hidden park bench of shame. A quick look around and then he's rapidly trotting (still hard cock and balls in hand) towards the strange bag. The butt plug does nothing to normalize his gait...

Strangely trying not to soil his thin socks, the guy moves forward on tippy-toes in a curled crouch. The bag is quickly opened and his shocked expression says it all. Struggling to comprehend the situation, he grabs the bag and runs further away from the bench and presumably towards home.

He unwittingly moves in closer to the camera and hides behind a bush. The camera pans to show that a young dog walking guy has appeared on the pathway not far from where the Sissy found the bag.

He waits for the dog walker to pass and then slowly retrieves the contents. Whatever's in there, the articles are scant, flimsy and bright. He retrieves a crumpled paper note. Maybe a malicious 'fuck you!', maybe directions and a potential lifeline? The Sissy puts his weary head in his hands before dressing in the scandalous outfit intended for him.

He pulls on the small thong with great difficulty, as it is significantly smaller than his own stolen panties and not designed to hold his modest package or an erect cock. He moans slightly, as the thong eats deep into his butt and nestles to one side of his openly visible tacky butt plug. He works hard at forcing the aroused dick into the panties, but it's a losing battle. Finally he settle for the tip poking out of the top. This only serves to exemplify the detail on the front of the bright white cotton thong. A cartoon image of a pink butterfly sits beneath the pink words, 'Sissy'.

The vest is next. Neon pink and stereotypically gay, the sleazy fishnet vest

barely stretches down to his belly button. He stands tentatively and looks at the open-toed platform stripper heels he's been left with. Unsure whether to put them on or not, the Sissy appraises them, but then picks up the transparent soled heels by their also see-through plastic strappy uppers and begins padding over the grass in his socks.

The camera follows as the Sissy walks around a little duck lake and up towards a small pathway that threads alongside a wooded area on the left and a grassy mound on the right. It is mercifully isolated. Still his hard cock refuses to relent, poking buoyantly above the cheap elastic waistband of the 'Sissy' emblazoned thong.

Once on the gravel track the Sissy is forced to stop and put on the absurdly trashy stripper platforms. The jagged gravel of the narrow path is presumably too painful to walk on with just nylon socked feet. Churned up mud on either side of the path presumably makes walking beside the gravel in socks also impossible.

It's a long, hard, tentative walk for the stripped down deviant. Despite his sissy nature, he clearly isn't used to walking in heels as he totters and buckles a couple of times on the gravel path. It may be a warm day, but the conditions certainly aren't warm enough to comfortably wander around in a fishnet vest and a thong. His legs struggle on the heels, a situation not helped by the plug still filling his butt. As he makes slow progress, the Video Voyeur continues to follow at a distance.

Despite it being a very quiet day in the large park, the Sissy still occasionally stops and crouches down to check that the coast is clear. Regardless of the nightmarish predicament in which he finds himself, the Sissy is apparently still wary of encountering any additional witnesses to his utter humiliation. The camera on the mound pans across into the distance and catches the few dog walkers and random wanderers on a distant adjacent track that prompt the Sissy to stop and duck down.

The camera eagerly trails the Sissy's descent down a sloping bend when he is confronted by his first inescapable witness. She's coming straight for the Sissy and he clearly has nowhere to hide. To better catch the scene, the Video Voyeur's vantage point moves further up to the right of the track.

The Sissy stumbles when he realises that he can't escape the dog walker. The camera moves around and zooms in on his horrified expression. A middle aged red-headed lady walks with a black dog towards the sheepish figure on the path. She does a rapid double take. The dog even trots ahead for a better look. The Sissy's hands nervously hover over his Butterfly emblazoned package, but his erect cock still refuses to be tamed by the knicker elastic. His white hairless thighs squeeze out bright white from the tiny panties, while his nipples stand erect beneath the neon vest. In amazement, she appraises the figure trotting along before her. Scandalized good humor rather than fear characterizes her expression as she draws up to the weirdo. The guy looks down at the ground in shame and struggles to stay atop his stripper heels. She covers her mouth as if to suppress a guffaw, as she takes in the mortified looking young man's humiliating outfit of pink vest, tiny thong, stripy knee highs and utterly impractical high heels. Given his obvious sheepish humiliation, surely he can't be willingly dressed that way?

"Are you okay? Do you need any help?" The mic on the camera faintly picks up the exchange.

"It's just a prank. Nothing serious." He murmurs in abject eroticized misery, completely avoiding eye contact.

To make matters worse, the friendly black dog is intent on sniffing the Sissy's socked feet, causing the broken young man to dance an ankle twisting jig around the enthusiastic beast.

Clear of the dog, he moves on as quickly as the stripper heels will allow him. The lady risks a glance back at the departing young man. His narrow white ass pouring out of the little thong and the still embedded butt plug greets her backward glance. She covers her mouth in shock and struggles to suppress a stray bout of hysterical laughter.