Magic Dress - Robin Pt. 01

PART 1 One man, two dresses

University student societies are supposed to be fun, right? All those bright young people out for a good time? Like most freshers I parted with money to join several societies during intro week. We were feeling rich with our student loans. Later on, we would realise how small they were compared with the expenses of the real world.

And fun? The debating society was the place for those with grand political ambitions. They started with a major event in the Student Union. Eventually it was decided to send a letter of condemnation to a foreign president for his recent actions. The genocidal dictator would be quaking in his boots, I thought. The SF society turned out to be the place for bitter arguments rather than enjoyment of science fiction. The film club put on old black and white French films that were philosophically deep, or Scandinavian ones where no women took their clothes off. There did not seem to be any plot, just long silences in gloomy places.

But the XYZ society had to be better. (It was Zee, not Zed, for some reason.) "Curious about life, sex, and yourself?" said the sign above the desk where gullible first-years like me handed over their money. There was a very pretty girl manning it (or womanning it) dressed in a man's suit and looking very sexy.

It seems it used to be the Gay and Lesbian Society but had added extra terms, so they had changed to XYZ to include any new letters, which I thought was quite witty.

"I'm not gay," I said. (But to tell the truth I had been a bit curious about some things, and was not particularly successful with girls. All right, not successful with girls.)

"Forget the labels," she said. "How you dress and who you have sex with is unimportant. Why be limited to one gender? I'm certainly not."

She smiled invitingly, and I had handed over my money.

But it did not seem that fun. There were lectures and leaflets about health, and tales of terrible persecution. Plus the tub-thumping political students who took the floor whenever they could and were hard to shut up. Disagreeing about patriarchal hegemony and entrenched worldviews and such.

To be fair, there were some trying to be more welcoming, but it came over a bit like religious people trying to say how jolly it was to follow strict rules and avoid things you might like. (And there were a couple who were religious as well and tried to sell it.)

I had pretty much decided I was no longer curious, when someone proposed a drag ball. That got the expected condemnation of stereotypical language, but somehow arguments were put forward that people who liked dressing up a bit extreme should be able to do it, and why not allow everyone regardless of their biology? Dressing up in extreme male or female stereotypes was really challenging them, as was the use of the term drag.

And (strangely) it might actually be fun.

There was an overwhelming vote from the floor.

+ - + - + - + -+ - + -+ - + - + - +

So I was a member of the XYZ society and there was going to be a drag ball. I imagined myself dressing up as woman and getting off with a woman dressed as a man.

But I knew I did not have the guts to try. There was nothing for it but to actually do what everyone else was starting to do, and get on with studying the course I was supposed to be there for.

I was still not used to the city, so I accidentally got on the wrong bus. It took me a while to realise, and I found myself in an unfamiliar place.

Just by the bus stop was a charity shop. In the window was a green dress and a wig. I had just been thinking of how I wouldn't go to the drag ball when I saw this. There was no-one around. Nobody knew me here.

I went in.

There was a pleasant middle-aged lady.

"Can I help you?" she said, and of course I answered "Just looking, thanks."

I browsed the paperback books and CDs of unpopular groups. Finally, I worked out what to say.

"I'm a student. We're having an event, and just for a laugh we're putting on drag. Do you think you might have a dress that would fit me?"

She looked at me, then smiled at my bright red face.

"I don't know. Let's measure you up and see."

I took off my fleece and she measured my chest and waist and hips.

"Well, it might be a bit of squeeze, but we'll see what we can do."

"Remember anything you buy goes to charity," she added, as I sidled towards the door.

I pretended to look through some LPs (although I don't have a record player).

Eventually she produced two and held them up against me.

"This one might be a bit tight on the waist, but it's worth a try. This one, you might find the sleeves a bit restricting around your shoulders. You can go into the back room to try them on. I won't peek."

There was a new feeling of excitement, as I stripped off. Me in a dress! How silly! But I was hoping it would fit, I really was.

The first one was great. I got it on, but I could hardly breathe. It was a struggle to get it off. The second one really was tight around the tops of my arms, and I realised I could never do it up at the back. I put on my trousers and top.

"Sorry," I said, coming out of the back room. "Thanks for trying."

She was standing there with the green dress.

"I forgot about this one," she said. "Why don't you try it on?"

She handed it to me and took the others.

"Let me know when you've got it on, and I'll come in," she said as I went back in.

I put it on.

There was no struggle. It was as if I had been wearing a dress all my life.

I looked in the mirror, and twirled. How nice it was that the skirt flared out when I turned. I had expected to feel daft, but I did not. It just seemed a nice dress.

I forgot to say anything, but there was a knock on the door, and she asked me if I was done yet. I said she could come in. And I actually wanted her to see me.

She came in and stopped.

"Oh, success, I see." She held up the wig from the window.

"You can't go to a drag ball without a wig. Luckily this one is red, like your hair, and makes a nice contrast with the dress. Let me help you."

She put it on, and fussed around.

"I'm afraid the dress is a bit more expensive than the others, because it's good quality. But it's still cheap and the proceeds go to charity. We don't normally have wigs, and it's really a fun one, so it's not much."

"Wait a minute," she said, and went to get her handbag.

"You really need some makeup. Let me just do your eyebrows and lips, so you can see. I promise it will come off."

I didn't say anything.

"This lipstick's nearly done, so you can keep it, and you can have the eyebrow pencil. You shouldn't really share lipstick, but I promise you I don't have cold sores."

I looked at myself in the mirror and rather liked it. Was I gay? Or at least XYZ? Yes, definitely XYZ.

"I've done it properly," she said, scrutinising me. "I won't say you'd pass, but it's not bad. If you don't do it as well, that'll be fine for a drag do. If you can get a girlfriend to do your eyelashes and give you some eyeshadow, that'll be even better. But I think you'll do."

The shop bell rang, and she excused herself.

I looked at myself in the mirror. This was me. But somehow it seemed more me than before. I was sort of excited. Not excited, just glad to be alive, feeling good. I really wanted to go out like this! I couldn't wait for the drag ball.

She was out for a while, and came back with a plastic bag.

"That was funny," she said. "The woman who donated this dress came back with another bag."

She opened it and pulled out a red dress of the same style.

"It's the same size," she said. "Actually, it's a bit more striking. If you're brave enough, it might do even better."

I looked at it, and I wanted it. But I didn't want to give up the green one.

"Can I take both?" I asked.

"Of course, same price, and with the wig, that'll be... Oh, just a minute, there's some other things in here. There's a green bra and a red bra. The dresses would look a lot better with a bra. We don't normally take underwear, but I can smell conditioner, so they've been washed. Shall we see if it fits? We can just slip the dress off your shoulders."

I did not argue. She fiddled with the straps and did it up behind me, then got some wrapping tissue, and fitted it in the cups.

"Just wiggle your shoulders," she said and fiddled a bit more. "Not too tight?"

"Fine," I said, and she pulled the dress back up and adjusted it at the back.

We both looked in the mirror. We both looked a bit surprised.

"Well, that certainly worked better than I thought," she said. "But if you don't shave, and get some eye shadow, you'll look more draggy."

I didn't say anything. I was just surprised and strangely satisfied. I knew I had to change, but didn't want to, just yet. Maybe she understood.

"I'll leave you to think about it," she said. "and when you have, get changed and call me."

I still hadn't changed when she knocked and asked to come in, as it was time to close the shop. She cleaned my lips and eyebrows with some sort of wipe, and I was back to my normal face. She left and I hurriedly changed.

I used my shiny new student bank card, and took my bag home.

I hung up both dresses and looked through the bag. As well as the two bras, there were some knickers. And the red one had a matching suspender belt and fishnet stockings. I felt a bit funny, so went to the canteen and had my dinner.

Unusually, I had a shave. Then I was going into the shower when I looked down at my legs and decided to shave them. The little ginger hairs clogged the electric shaver.

Nice and clean, I knew exactly what I wanted, and put on the green knickers and the green dress. Not the bra and not the wig. I was not going out and not pretending: I just wanted the dress.

I felt really relaxed. But also thought it would be a good idea to get on with some studying.

I was doing well and had just made a mug of tea, when there was a knock at the door.

It was the pretty girl from the XYZ society, in a skirt this time.

"Oh hi, er..."

"It's George," she said. "Is Terry in?"

"Next door," I said (thinking "lucky Terry!"). "By the way I'm Robin."

"Sorry to have disturbed you, Robin," she said with a smile. "By the way, nice dress. Is that your costume for the drag ball?"

With horror, I said "Er, yes. Just trying it out."

"Well," she said, "if you want any help with makeup, let me know." And she knocked on Terry's door.

I went back in and sat down. My fright changed to amusement. I was now a full member of XYZ!

And I wasn't really ashamed. It was a nice dress and I liked it.

+ - + - + - + -+ - + -+ - + - + - +

The thing was: what about the red dress? It was sort of intriguing. But stockings and suspenders? I couldn't do that!

On the other hand, I should definitely practise with the bra and makeup.

The green bra was quite a struggle, but eventually I got the technique. I was quite proud of myself, and looked forward to wearing it each evening (stuffed with socks) in the green dress while I did coursework or read lecture notes. I hardly went out, except to the XYZ society where George (in jeans and football jersey) arranged to come and make me up before the drag ball.

The night of the ball was the last week of term before Christmas. I shaved my face and legs and showered. Although my hair was ginger, my beard was fairly blond, so I could not get good masculine stubble, so I might as well shave it off. At least that's what I told myself.

I thought I would just try the red dress. I put on lipstick and marked my eyebrows, and held it up. I wanted it - and somehow it seemed as if it wanted me!

The red bra went on more easily than ever before. I put on the panties, and hesitated before trying the suspenders. As I slowly rolled the stockings on, there was a feeling of mounting excitement. (And how had I known to roll them on? But how nice it was to do it slowly. And the satisfaction of attaching to the suspenders. As if I was used to it.)

Then the red dress. Wow! I pulled on the wig quickly. And looked at myself.

I felt good, I looked good. I was hot! Not in temperature, in desirability. I was sexy and excited.

My cock was rigid and it felt so good as I wanked it. I had to be careful not to get spunk on the dress, but it was a great orgasm.

'Curious about life, sex and yourself?' Yes, and very pleased with the discovery!

I cleaned myself up, and just sort of preened. I was a sexy girl. Hot stuff, in fact. It was going to be quite a night!

I wasn't anxious, as I thought I would be. Though my cock had obediently shrunk away, I was excited and sort of randy. I knew I wanted something, though I wouldn't admit what it was.

There was a knock at the door.

George arrived in a suit and tie and a false moustache, though still with her tits. But she definitely seemed to have something in her trousers. Seeing me look, she took my hand and put it on, to feel a cock and balls! I realised she must be transgender, but a very attractive one.

She looked at me.

"I think I preferred the green one, but it's your night out, young lady, so let's get you prepared, shall we?"

She put some cream and powder on me, but it was the eyes which were important. Eyeliner, mascara on the eyelashes and plenty of eyeshadow. I looked ridiculous - but hot!

"Shame you haven't got high heels," George remarked. "But then maybe you would really fool everyone."

No, I just had my best trainers, which were really not very best, just not worst.

We took a taxi to the ball, where I discovered that I had no money. I had the ticket and my key in my hand, but no pockets.

"Put them in your bra," said George. "I'll pay because I'm the gentleman. Next time bring a handbag."

We were in the small bar of the Student Union, which is often used for functions. There were quite a few people already. There were a lot of funny coloured wigs (including a couple which probably came from a clown costume). There were two men with beards in schoolgirl outfits. There were curvy girls artfully failing to pass as men, with a drawn moustache on their faces and so carefully made up to look like no makeup.

I was told that it had proved quite popular with non-members of XYZ, and there were some couples both nominally female, but one much bigger and obviously not.

"I'm going to circulate," said George. "Have fun."

Of course, she was not my girlfriend, just someone who had helped with makeup, and it was obvious she had many friends of both sexes, as she got a lot of kisses.

I started dancing a bit by myself, feeling foolish. But then people were looking at me, and I started to like it. Yes, they were interested, and I was hot.

It took longer than I hoped, but eventually a guy came up and said "Can I buy you a drink?" He was just a regular guy, not in drag. Was he straight and fancied me? The idea was so exciting!

"A half of lager and a shot," I said, confidently, which surprised me. I don't do shots. Well perhaps I did, tonight.

The shot was a shock, of course, but the buzz in me grew stronger. I was going to suck his cock! That was something I had vaguely wondered about, not wanting, just wondering what people on the sucking end got out of it. Now I was determined to find out.

We danced a bit, and finally he got closer and whispered in my ear (which in a dance means shouted quietly).

"I really fancy you," he said. "Can I suck your cock?"

So much for fooling a straight guy! But maybe I was mishearing.

"Say again?"

"I WANT TO SUCK YOUR COCK!" he said, as there was a slight lull, and people turned round and looked and laughed.

"OK," I said, and followed him to the gents' toilet.

The cubicles were full (possibly for sexual purposes, considering the event).

I just bent down, took off my knickers and leant against the wall holding my skirt up. I would never have believed that I would act like this, but I was rather different tonight. Despite my earlier wank, my cock was rigid. He went on his knees and took me in his mouth, and I let my skirt drop on his head.

I had never managed to get a girl to suck me off before, so it was new, and very good. And I think he was well practised. It took just long enough, and was everything I hoped for, when he gulped it down. I was smirking as men (some in drag) came in and out, some not looking, some very much looking.

It was the strangest thing. As my cock deflated and I pulled on my knickers, I felt sexier than ever.

He got up from the floor, his trousers bulging. I kissed him on the mouth and started to unzip him. He backed against the wall and I went onto my knees. I was just so hungry for that cock, there was no hesitation. I just went with instinct, sucking and moving my head, and getting it as far in as I could. He was moaning and I was feeling so high. It was better than having my own sucked!

Swallowing it was easy, and I felt the power of a woman as he bucked and groaned with pleasure.

Two guys had come in for a piss, and had been watching, their cocks still out. I smiled, and one came over, half-hard.

There was a drop of piss on his knob. I sucked it off and started wanking him with my hand, keeping his knob in my mouth. I could feel the foreskin moving backwards and forwards, and I tickled the tip with my tongue, getting another drop for my trouble. It all tasted of piss and sweat, and I loved it!

It was great to feel it stiffen in my hand and swell in my mouth, then take him all the way.

I was exultant, but my knees were aching as the second one came across.

"Just a minute" said a voice. It was a man in a leather jacket and cap, with a couple of earrings in one ear.

"Stand up a minute, or you'll get cramp," he said. "And have a drink."

He helped me up, and handed me a half-pint glass.

"Shandy," he said. "Best thing to rinse away the spunk."

It was actually refreshing and just right. I thanked him and bent to deal with my next client.

Fully refreshed, I was able to give the next cock the attention it deserved, and was suitably rewarded by a nice mouthful of spunk. Because I was bending down, it didn't swallow so easily, and I was glad of the drink.

"Thank you, sir," I said to the man with the earrings, "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Can I fuck you?" he said.

"OK," said, as if it was quite normal, and he shepherded me into a cubicle, where I instinctively bent over and rested my hands on the toilet lid. I felt my skirt being lifted, and my knickers being pulled down. The door was open, which I rather liked.

Then one bumcheek was pulled to one side and something liquid applied. It stung for a moment then sort of faded. Then there was a lubricated finger going in. All I felt was mounting excitement and desire.

Finally there was something large being pushed in - something impossibly large! I braced myself. It hurt as he pushed harder, and stretched me to the limit. It was too much, and I was about to say stop, when it went in. It hurt as he pushed in, but I didn't care. As he moved in and out, the pain began to fade, and there was just the pleasure of being filled.

(I later realised it had been some lubricant with a bit of anaesthetic properties.) I was a girl in a red dress being fucked! Thoroughly fucked! This is what I had wanted all my life, but didn't know it!

"Oh God, you're so tight!" he said. "You're fantastic!" I could only agree. I was fantastic!

It was a triumph when I felt him coming inside me, slamming hard and going "Oh fuck! Yes!"

It was a little bit of disappointment when he pulled out, and I felt my arsehole gaping.

But as I started to turn, he had stepped back to take off a condom, and there was another man with a condom on a stiff cock. Happily, I turned back and braced myself.

This time there was no pain, just the pleasure of a girl getting a good solid fucking. A really hot gorgeous sexy girl! He just pounded me until he came. I looked around to see if there was another cock, but there wasn't. It was OK. I needed something else, so called out to the man putting a condom in the bin "Get me a drink, would you? Half a lager and a shot."