Law School was going well, and at the beginning of the final semester we had a class on the statute of limitations. I was delighted to learn that the statute for sexual assault, at least in the state in which I had committed the crime, was seven years. My assault on Lela had occurred in our Senior Year of High School, which was coming up on seven years. There were some minor exceptions to the seven year statute, such as the discovery of DNA evidence, but none were really applicable to me. All John had were some cryptic texts, which admittedly could have been potentially damning in conjunction with Lela's testimony. However, as she had zero intention of reporting me to the authorities, John's leverage over me had a time-limit, and it was fast approaching.
Unfortunately for me John had reached the same conclusion, and realizing that his leverage over me was about to expire he upped the ante, calling a meeting between the two of us and Lela.
"I am going to cut right to the chase," John began confidently. "Mark is under the impression that the statute of limitations is about to expire, but I have a little surprise for him. Remember this, Mark?"
As I looked in John's direction, he held up a woman's bra that was contained within a plastic bag.
"That's mine," Lela said quietly. "I was wearing it the night of the sexual assault. How do you still have it, John?"
"Well," John said cheerfully, "the night of the Winter Formal, when you told me that Mark had forced himself on you, I asked you if you still had the clothes you were wearing. Do you remember that Lela?"
"Barely," she admitted. "It was almost seven years ago."
"You told me that you had thrown them under your bed as soon as you got home," John said with a smirk on his face. "I spent a lot of time at your house in those days, and I took the bra when you were in the shower. As you know my dad is an attorney and my mom is a pathologist, so I have always been a budding criminologist. I brought a forensics bag with me that day, and while I am sure that there is a little cross-contamination, Mark's DNA is undoubtedly on the bra, in the form of his dried semen. When this forensic evidence is combined with his confession by text, it will assuredly meet the criteria for extending the statute of limitations."
My heart sank at this revelation. DNA evidence was considered an extremely reliable form of evidence. Even if John had left some of his own hair or skin on the bra, the fact that my ejaculate was splattered across it was highly incriminating, and definitely met the legal standards for extending the statute of limitations for prosecution.
"Do you remember the standard, Mark?" John said smugly. "You don't need to cite the case precedent and information, simply state the legal requirement in your own words. Remind us of the law."
"The statute of limitations remains the same, seven years in the case of sexual assault," I began quietly. "However, the discovery of fresh evidence moves the beginning of the statute period to the date of the evidentiary discovery."
"And, in this case, that date would be?" John continued, thoroughly enjoying my turmoil.
"The day that the plaintiff learned of the availability of the evidence," I added dejectedly. "Today."
"Exactly," John concluded. "I own your ass for another seven years."
Lela flashed me an apologetic glance even though I was well aware that it was not her fault. John had played the long game, sitting on the compelling piece of evidence for almost seven years, thereby extending the statute of limitations by the same period of time.
"Why don't you go and change into something more comfortable, Mark?" John said dismissively, as he beckoned Lela towards him.
I knew that this was another crossroads in my life, and while I desperately didn't want Lela to witness my transformation into her surrogate, I knew it could only get worse for me if I refused. Dragging my feet reluctantly towards the bathroom, I shot Lela one more frantic glance, just before she and John began to engage in a tender open-mouthed kiss.
Even before I saw the tools of my transformation laid on the bathroom countertop, I knew what John was doing. Lela knew that John and I occasionally hooked up, even though it was a totally one-sided arrangement. She even knew that John had dressed me in her lingerie and scented me like a bitch a few times. However, the thought of having to transform into something that closely resembled her in an apparent voluntary manner, was sickening to me.
The long black wig made of real Native-American human hair was hanging on the back of the door, with the wig clips attached to it. Visible through the long, dark tresses was a dry-cleaning bag containing something in a very bright shade of pink. As I tore open the bag, I realized that it was a silk, mid-length camisole and a pair of stretch latex boy-shorts. The boy-shorts were slit up the sides and adorned with white lace, and the crotch was open to facilitate John's entry.
My head was spinning as I contemplated my options, and as my eyes gravitated towards the countertop, the rest of my outfit came into view. Clearly designed solely to emasculate me, the pink silk stockings also had white lace on the top, which matched the garter-belt perfectly. There was a tiny pair of g-string silk panties, which seemed completely unnecessary considering the fact that the stretch-latex boy-shorts were crotchless. Lying next to the pile of lingerie were a set of pink, press-on fingernails, some pink lipgloss, a choker to conceal my Adam's apple, and two pink hair ribbons. Lela's favorite perfume was on the countertop, and on the floor were a pair of outrageous high-heeled pumps. They appeared to be my size and were a shockingly bright shade of pink.
There was a small box sitting on the countertop, and as soon as I opened it my heart sank. Contained within it were my gaff with its silicone vagina insert, my silicone breast enhancer pads, and my butt-lifter pads, which were the final indignity.
Less than ten minutes later, as I applied the final spritz of my girlfriend's perfume, I looked at my reflection in the mirror. I looked like a complete pussy, all dolled up for another man's enjoyment as he sat in the adjoining room making out with my girl.
I honestly couldn't decide which was more humiliating, the sky-high pink pumps on which I teetered, or my very visible camel-toe, which made me appear to be anatomically female. I took in one last deep breath, and opened the door to the bedroom.
I knew that John had a persuasive manner with the ladies, so it was no surprise to see Lela on her knees by the side of his bed, as he relaxed on the edge of it. Her head was bobbing up and down in his lap as she demonstrated her newly-acquired oral skills. John had his eyes closed as Lela sucked his cock, but once he heard me enter the room, he looked at me and smirked.
"There she is," John said cheerfully. "Pretty in pink."
While it was an accurate assessment of my current situation, Lela's response, which was to burst into an excited giggle, caused my face to flush bright red with humiliation.
"Come," John beckoned, "don't be shy."
As I teetered nervously on my towering heels, I was forced to take short, feminine steps to maintain my balance. The affectedly dainty manner in which I was required to walk exaggerated my plight, and as I minced into the room, John spoke.