Social Media Star Ch 02

[All characters are age 18+]

CHAPTER 2

Over the past few weeks, I began wearing my special panties more and more. In fact, they were the only things I wore anymore --at least around the house. All this was partly owed to my new modeling contract (more of that later), but also, partly because I liked how they felt! I had grown accustomed to the way the soft cotton and silks felt. When I woke in the morning, I loved the way the panties softly pressed against my morning wood. After getting up and showering, I would put on a fresh pair and spend the rest of the day lounging around the house, although I did feel a bit exposed in my skimpy underwear when my mom and sister were around.

As a result of my earlier fame on social media, a modeling company had reached out to my sister and asked if I was interested in signing a modeling contract with them. My mom and sister had been so excited at this news. Although I had misgivings at first, the offer was too good to pass up. It worked out to almost a thousand dollars a week! And all I had to do was wear their products from their FemBoy product line. Apparently, the company specialized in feminine clothing items for men and transwomen. They also sold other products, but I didn't look into those. To be honest, their clothing wasn't exactly my cup of tea --I wasn't trans nor was I interested in girly stuff-- but the modeling money was too much to turn down. A contract from FemBoy Inc. was sent to our house not long after. The document itself was really long, and I had trouble reading the seemingly endless pages of legalese. Thankfully, my mom said she had looked it over and everything seemed okay with her. I promptly signed it and sent it back.

The fine print of the modeling contract required that I wear the company's underwear exclusively. I did actually remember reading that clause. While the ink was still wet, my mom had made sure that all my boy underwear was thrown away. The top drawer of my dresser was now filled with FemBoy Inc. panties --lots of pink and purple underwear with lace trim and little bows. The company had sent a variety of boyshorts and thongs for me to wear --basically as my daily uniform.

In fact, today I was wearing one of the pink ones with a little red bow in the front. And earlier in the day, I had posted a photo of me wearing it on my Instagram page --with my face cut off, of course. My new modeling contract required me to post several of these selfies a day while wearing their FemBoy Inc. products. The company had even set-up separate social media accounts for me apart from my stepsister's. All I had to do was post a few times a day --easy money!

I noticed it was about 3 o'clock in the afternoon. I had been in my room all day playing videogames again, but now I decided to walk downstairs to get something to eat. Wearing just my new pink underwear, I walked slowly down the stairs to the kitchen. With all this modeling work, I had begun to watch my figure for the first time in my life. I wanted to keep looking trim in the photos, lest I upset the FemBoy people and my growing internet fan base. After making myself a fruit smoothie, I went to the living room to find both my mom and sister sitting and talking on the couch. Both were casually dressed in jeans and tank tops. On the coffee table in front of them was a large cardboard package.

Noticing me at the doorway, Miley pointed at the box and said, "Timmy, a package came for you today."

"Who's it from?" I asked as I slowly walked towards them, my bare feet sinking into the plush carpet.

"Who do ya think, silly? Femboy! They sent it overnight for you..." she replied.

"And Timmy... I hope you don't mind, but we already opened it for you. Why don't you have a seat and see what they sent?" added my stepmom as she made room for me on the black leather couch.

"Sure mom."

I walked over and nervously sat between them --the leather of the couch felt cold against my exposed ass cheeks. With the two women on either side of me, I reached forward and opened the top flaps of the box. Inside the large box was what looked like a shoe box and a large plastic pouch. On top of both was a typed letter on pink paper. Eyeing my mom, I grabbed the letter, unfolded it, and read it.

Dear Timmy,

We at FemBoy Inc. hope you are enjoying the panties we sent you! (and based on your Instagram photos, we think you have!) Enclosed is a special outfit we want you to wear for us. We have spoken to your sister Miley and she has agreed to shoot a special video of you modeling it for our website! We hope you have fun with it...

Hugs and Kisses,

Your Friends at FemBoy Inc.

P.S. We are sadly disappointed that you are still covering your face in all your posts. We remind you to read Clause 9 of your contract ;)

I gulped after reading that final line, ignoring the rest of the letter. Clause 9? I didn't remember a Clause 9. Reading my mind, my mom went straight to the kitchen and came back with a copy of the signed, notarized contract and handed it to me. Miley had begun rifling through the box, as I carefully read the legal document. There were over 20 numbered clauses, all of which were spelled out in tiny font on page 43! My heart sank when I read the ninth one: "Contracted model must, upon request, show his/her face on all media products including but not limited to photographs and videos sponsored or otherwise endorsed by FemBoy Inc. and its affiliates. Failure to adequately comply will result in contract termination and forfeiture of all prior payments." Noticing my growing discomfort, my mom delicately took the contract from my now shaking hands and sat next to me on the couch.

"Now Timmy, this isn't the end of the world! There is nothing to be ashamed about. Modeling is a fine career choice. And you have a very pretty face," she explained as she placed her hand gently on my lower back.

"I just... I just don't want people to see me wearing this weird lingerie... these panties and... they might get the wrong impression! I'm only doing this because I need the money," I replied. The room went quiet. I put my hands in my lap, wishing I was wearing more than a skimpy thong as I confessed this.

Miley then sat on the other side of me and added, "Oh come on, Timmy. Who cares what you wear?"

"Your sister makes a fair point, Timmy," said my mom, trying again to comfort me. I felt so exposed with the two fully clothed women on either side me.

While she was mindlessly twisting her hair, Miley coyly suggested, "I have an idea Timmy... what about if we disguise you somehow?"

"Like with a mask? I don't think the people at FemBoy would go for that..."

"No silly...I mean with makeup! The contract doesn't say anything about not using makeup."

"I know you're trying to help, Miley. But I don't think your brother wants to wear makeup," said my mom.

I tried to process Miley's suggestion. That might actually work, I reasoned in desperation. As long as the person in the photos didn't look exactly like me, I could always deny it. Right?

"But I don't know the first thing about applying makeup," I added.

"I'm sure if you ask your sister nicely, she would be glad to help," suggested my stepmom.

I turned to Miley, buried my pride, and asked, "Miley, would you please help me?"

"Of course, sweetie! Give me just a few minutes, and I can make you look like the next Cover Girl!" she replied.

Her second comment unnerved me, but before I could say anything, Miley bounded off the couch and to her bedroom.

My mom patted me on my thigh and said, "I think you made the right choice, Timmy."

Miley quickly returned, bringing with her all her makeup supplies. She placed a multitude of bags, mirrors, and plastic cases on the coffee table in front of us. She also sat on the edge of the table directly opposite me so that we were face to face.

"Miley, I just don't want to be so... uh... recognizable. Please don't go overboard. Please..." I begged, starting to regret my earlier, rash decision.

"Understood, lil' bro," she replied.

Over the next half hour, I watched as she applied various things to my face. First, she started with a flesh-colored liquid that I imagined was foundation or something. She next moved on to my eyebrows, plucked them for a while, and then began using a pencil-like thing on them. Then, she made me close my eyes and told me she was applying something called "eye shadow". After that, she put something on my eye lashes that made them feel heavier. She then moved on to my lips.

"Timmy pout your lips for your sister," my mom instructed.

I complied, and after Miley used a variety of pens, lipsticks, and gloss, she sat back and admired her work. Satisfied, she spent the remainder of the time on my face. Powders and contouring brushes littered the top of the table as the minutes passed. By the end, my whole face felt different.

"All done!" Miley declared as she put down a bottle of lip gloss.

"How does it look?" I dared to ask.

"Oh, Timmy! Your sister has really outdone herself. You look beautiful!" said my mom as she leaned forward to get a closer look.

"Definitely one of my better looks," Miley proudly said. She reached to her left and grabbed a mirror from one of her bags. Holding it deftly by its handle, she moved it directly in front of my face before I could react.

"Have a look, Timmy!"

I almost choked when I saw my reflection. It was all too much for my mind to process: my bright red lips, huge eye lashes, penciled-on eyebrows, and soft, smokey eye shadow. I didn't know what to think! I was staring at a female version of myself. What was happening to me?! I looked like a girl on the night of her prom! The only thing that looked the same was my short, light brown hair. But even that sort of looked like a pixie cut. And as another shock, I could feel myself getting hard in my panties.

Tiring of my stunned silence, my mom asked "Sooo... what do you think, Timmy?"

"I'm... I'm not-- "

"Yourself?" Miley blurted out. She and my mom started giggling.

"No. I'm not sure this was a good idea, Miley," I answered, still staring at the reflection in the mirror. I couldn't look away, but I also didn't want to make eye contact with either of them.

"Don't be silly! This is perfect. You look adorable and no one will recognize you. At least...probably no one," Miley added.

"She's right, kitten. And that reminds me. Timmy, where are your manners? Thank your sister for helping you," my mom demanded.

Not wanting to upset either, I meekly said, "Thank you Miley."

"You're welcome, sweetie. Now we can finally move on to the fun part!" Miley squealed as she got off the table and sat next to me on the couch again. With the mirror out of my face, my attention focused again on the FedEx box from FemBoy.

"Now Timmy, like the letter said, your modeling agency wants you to wear what's in this box for a short promo video," my mom explained.

"What kind of video exactly?" I asked as I watched Miley reach into the FedEx box and pull out the shoebox and opaque plastic pouch.

"You'll see, Timmy. Now go put these on," said my mom. She nodded to Miley, and she obediently handed me the bag and shoebox. I noticed that the bag had already been opened, but I did not look inside.

"Okay, mom. Let me just go to my room and change," I said as I got up off the couch.

"Oh, just change in the bathroom done here, kitten. No need to go upstairs. You can leave the panties you're wearing now in there," my mom countered.

"I guess it makes no difference," I conceded. With the two items in hand, I walked back towards the kitchen and went into the small powder room off the hallway, closing the door behind me. I winced as I stood on the cold tile floor with my bare feet.

Now in the bathroom, I put the shoebox down and opened the black plastic pouch. Like I had secretly suspected, inside the bag was a new pair of panties. It appeared to be a simple, black brief-style undergarment. Like a typical bikini or speedo, I figured. But as I pulled it out of the bag, I noticed that something was off. This was no ordinary bikini. The inside label read "Vibz for Boyz", and I could feel the heavy weight of it. I instantly understood. These were vibrating panties! In the front, I could feel a hard plastic cylinder-like thing built into the stretchy, satin fabric. They wanted me to model this!? I then looked unsuccessfully for an ON/OFF button. Finding none, I contemplated not putting it on, but I knew I had no choice. At least these new panties provided me with some better coverage, I thought, as I glanced down at the tiny pink thong around my waist. Also, they were satin black in color and not festooned with little bows and lace.

Knowing I was pressed for time, I built up my courage, peeled off my pink thong, and put the new panties on. As they slid into place, I could feel the weight of the built-in vibrator against my semi-hard cock. The vibrator also made my bulge look bigger. Trying to ignore my growing panic, I next turned to the nondescript shoebox laying on the floor.

My worst fears were confirmed when I opened that final box to reveal a pair of high heels. Specifically, black closed-toe pumps with 4-inch heels and red soles. I didn't know FemBoy Inc. marketed shoes too! At this point, with the makeup on my face and the new panties, I knew I was committed. I slipped the shoes on without giving myself time to back out. They were a little small, but I managed nonetheless. Apart from playing dress-up as a kid, I had never worn high heels before, so although I could stand just fine in them, walking was another issue entirely. I practiced a bit in the limited space of the bathroom, but it was difficult. The shoes made loud clicking noises on the tile floor every time I moved. I knew the whole house could hear me struggle. Before I left and went back to the living room, I looked at myself one final time in the oval mirror above the sink.

A girly boy with a face full of makeup stared back at me. My huge eyelashes moving every time I blinked. What was I doing with my life? A part of me was mortified, but judging from my erection, a part of me was not. I knew I had to go out and face them. But at least my obvious bulge could be blamed on the vibrator. Hopefully.

They both lightheartedly clapped as I clumsily walked back into the living room. Both Miley and my mom were now standing by the couch, having just finished putting away Miley's makeup supplies.

"Oh Timmy! I knew you'd love your new panties! They fit you so well!" said Miley, practically jumping with glee.

"And the shoes! They really make the outfit. I wish I had a pair!" added my mom, pointing to my feet as I feebly strutted into the room. I could hardly walk as the heels dug deep into the carpet. It took tremendous effort not to fall flat on my face.

"Yes! They do look absolutely perfect on him. This video is going to look amazing!" Miley said in agreement. She walked over to me and held my arm, helping me regain my balance

Wanting to get this over with, I knew what I had to do. I could almost see the finish line. I asked, "So where is the video camera?"

"Oh we're not filming the promo clip here, sweetie. No, no, we're gonna film it upstairs in your sister's room," my mom answered. She had also walked over to me and was examining my new black underwear. I felt her hand on my ass caressing the satin fabric.

"Uhhh... okay. Fine with me, I guess," I replied looking at both of them. Something didn't feel right. But I knew that a short promo clip wouldn't take too long to film. This would all be over shortly, I kept telling myself.

"Come on, Timmy. Let's go," stated Miley as she took my hand and led me upstairs to her room. It took me some extra time to go up the stairs in my black pumps, but she and mom were patient. With each step, I could feel the heavy vibrator tug down on my panties. But at last, I made it to the top of the staircase without tripping or falling.

I then carefully walked into Miley's bedroom and approached her bed. It was a large bed with 4 white posters in the corners and a light pink duvet. Miley walked ahead of me and brushed away the mountain of frilly, decorative pillows and pulled off the duvet, leaving just a single pillow on top of a light pink fitted sheet. I struggled to keep my balance as my heels dug into the thick, white carpet of her room.

"Here Timmy, jump on my bed. I'll help you."

"Shouldn't I take my shoes off, Miley?" I asked, trying not to make eye contact with her.

"No, no. Leave them on. It's better that way!" she replied.

My stepmom had positioned herself on the other side of the bed as I slowly got on my sister's bed, positioning myself on my hands and knees. I found myself barely sinking into my sister's extra-firm mattress.

"Miley... what exactly are we doing here? Why can't we just shoot this video downstairs?" I nervously looked at both her and my mom. I felt so unprotected on her bed in just these ridiculous briefs and my high heels. Not to mention what they had done to my face. Why does this have to be done on her bed?

"We have something special planned for you, Timmy. Don't worry you're going to love it..." answered my mom.

"And what is that exactly...?"

"We could explain it to you... but I think it's better if we just show you," replied Miley. She winked at my mom and gently grabbed my right arm as my mom approached from the other side.

"Here Timmy, we need you to lie down on your back...yes like that... good boy. Just lay on your back. Now give me your arm. Just like that. Good boy," said my mom, as she and Miley gently guided me onto my back. Each then took an arm and quickly tied it to the nearest bedpost.

"What the hell are you--?"

"Timmy I know this must seem strange, but this is want the agency wants. They were very specific over the phone," said Miley as she secured a slip knot around my right wrist.

"You've got to be kidding me. Really?!" I blurted out as I tried to process what was going on. As I was talking, both women had moved on to my legs and were fastening my ankles to the other bedposts. The silk ropes had already been pre-tied and everything. They had planned this ahead of time.

My mind began to race as I realized my helpless predicament. When I woke up this morning, I had not planned to later find myself tied spread-eagle to my stepsister's bed! I could hardly move! The restraints were tight but thankfully not constricting or uncomfortable. I was grateful for that at least.

My head was slightly propped up on a pillow, allowing to me look down. I could see my panties and my little bulge. My toes were sticking straight up at the ceiling, with my ankles and stiletto heels firmly against the mattress. All I could do was wiggle my toes in the shoes.

Sitting down on the bed next to me, my mom said, "Timmy, if you don't want to do this, we can stop. It's your call. Your sister and I won't be upset."

"Is this really what the company wants?"

"Yes dear. They want a video demonstration. An advertisement for their new product. Your sister and I suggested to them that you be... restrained. It makes it simpler and...easier. You understand, right?"

I looked over at Miley for her take, but she was just nodding in agreement, her arms folded.

"Mom, I only agreed to all this just because I needed some extra cash. This is a bit extreme..."

"If that's what you believe, then fine. We'll untie you and we can forget about the whole thing. I just think you're making a big mistake... voiding the contract like this. We'll have to return all the sponsorship money..."

Miley then pleaded, "Mom's right. PLEASE little brother. Do this for me? I don't want you to lose this opportunity..."