The beautiful game - Part 2 - Remastered 05

Chapter 05 - Out of the frying pan and into the fire

A week past and having excitedly checked his pockets each evening upon getting his jacket back from the cloakroom, so far, all Milos had found were empty pockets and a growing feeling of disappointment. He was starting to think that perhaps Alek was all talk or worse, had decided that helping him would be too much hassle after all.

In the meantime, all the demeaning and soul-crushing day to day activities he was forced to endure continued, walking Brutus, cleaning Marko’s cars, gardening, and many more jobs and tasks, all, of course, whilst wearing tiny impractical outfits and sky-high heels.

Even more, worrying for Milos, recently Marko seemed to be paying closer attention to him than usual, started off with a few lingering stares from afar. Marko had always kept a close eye on him but in the past week or so, he seemed to have a strange look in his eyes, a look of lust.

Then the changes began, small at first, like Marko asking him to join him for lunch at the table where up until that point, he had just been given leftovers up in his room. After the initial invitation, Milos was now eating all his meals with Marko at the dining room table, treated like a pampered princess as he forced himself to act nice and make small conversation.

Marko then started taking him along to business meetings, where he would sit next to him in an indecently short skirt as the other men there took sneaky looks at his legs and cleavage. Milos hated being the centre of attention and looking like some surgically enhanced Barbie doll for all these wretched men to lust over, but in a way, it did beat cleaning the oven or walking Brutus.

The little touches from Mako were inevitable, starting with a little pat on the bum here and there, leading to little stolen kisses, finally coming to a climax when he was invited to join Marko in the hot tub.

(See image 5.1)

Feeling awfully vulnerable, wearing only a tiny white bikini that exposed almost all of his forcedly femininized body, Milos was told to give Marko a massage.

Taking a deep breath and trying not to shake, he began with his shoulders and back, but it soon became clear, Marko was after something more. Soon Milos' hands were being pushed lower and lower until he found himself stroking Marko’s very erect penis through his trunks.

At this point, Marko grabbed him and started kissing him passionately, his hands wandering all over Milos’ body, making short work of untying the back of his bikini and releasing the girls.

Milos tried to let his mind wander, imaging himself as a fly on the wall, separating himself from the steamy scene that was unfolding.

With his top removed, Marko started playing with his Milos’ huge sensitive breasts, suckling on his large nipples as he tried to suppress his moans of pleasure.

It didn’t take long for Marko to lose his shorts and knowing what was expected of him, Milos let his head be guided down until his plump lips were wrapped around the man’s engorged hard-on.

Forced to keep his eyes open and looking straight up at his captor, Milos bobbed his head up and down, trying not to choke as the rock-hard member pushing its way down the back of his throat.

After what seemed like an eternity, warm jets of salty liquid pulsated into Milos' mouth, spilling out over his face and breasts. With Marko finished, Milos looked away in shame, not wanting to think about what he had just done or look up at Marko who was staring down at him with a beaming smile on his face.

From then on, the hot tub sessions became a regular bi-weekly activity, but worse still he was now spending most nights sleeping in Marko's bed. Being Marko’s plaything was now to be part of Milos' punishment, as he was called upon whenever his captor wanting satisfying, usually expecting much more than the horrendous experience in the hot tub.

The whole experience was pure hell for Milos as not only did the thought of having to provide sexual pleasure to the devil himself disgust him, but he also felt guilty and confused with part of him actually feeling some sort of pleasure himself during the sexual acts. After all, it was the first time he had ever had someone play with his feminised body and after so long without any sexual relief his body was going rogue on him.

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It was a terrible start to the day, having to wake up at 8 am to walk Brutus after only four hours sleep, Milos looked out the window to see it pouring down with rain. Going through his morning routine, he got dressed, did his makeup before going down to greet the excited Brutus.

The slobbering great mutt, happy to see Milos bounded towards him almost knocking him off his high-heeled feet, and after struggling to clip the lead around his neck, they headed out for their morning 2k walk.

In the gale-force wind and torrential rain, Milos’ umbrella did little to keep him dry as the huge dog dragged him tottering along behind looking utterly ridiculous.

An hour and a half later, soaked through and freezing cold, Milos returned to the house clutching his right hand. Olga who was up and sat in the living room looked up as he entered, “hmm, not the best weather for dog walking”, she quipped before noticing his hand, “What happened to your hand”? She asked not sounding overly concerned.

Milos looked down clutching his throbbing hand, “I fell and broke a couple of nails”, he said, feeling ridiculous as he said it stood there soaked to the bone dressed in clubwear.

In the past, he had always thought nothing of it, when a girl said she had broken a nail, but now, having experienced it for himself, he had an entirely different perspective.

The accident happened after a heavy tug from Brutus where on the slippery surface he had lost his footing, tumbled over and landing on his acrylic nail tips. Bonded to his real nails beneath, it had been exceptionally painful.

Olga looked at him with what seemed like a touch of sympathy, out of character from her usual robotic character, “ok, you go and take a shower and warm up”, she said, “then we’ll fix up those nails”.

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Milos hadn’t seen Sonja in a long time, which was a good thing in his mind, so, when she turned up mid-afternoon at Marko’s house, the sight of her was almost as painful as breaking his nails.

After a few hours of insults and degrading comments, Sonja had repaired his broken nails before applying a new set of acrylic tips.

While there, she also refilled his eyelash extensions. Milos again just lay back trying not to listen as she talked on and on, running her mouth, “you know you’re pretty lucky really, getting pampered like this, if I was Marko, I would have just made you live with that mutt you like walking so much”. she said as Milos bit his tongue and didn’t respond.

“But I guess he likes you looking like a slut, after all that is all your good for these days, right? you never were as talented as me when it came to football”, she said as Milos fought back the urge to scream at her.

With the beauty session over, Sonja insisted, for old times’ sake, to pick out Milos’ outfit for his evening date with Marko. The news he was going out that evening was a surprise, having thought up until that moment, he’d just be spending the evening working in the club as per usual.

Leading him up to his room, Sonja seemed to delight in pawing through all his skimpy outfits, making comments about how well they suited him and the thoughts he must induce in the minds of every man who saw him wearing them.

She settled on a long red gown with a long slit running all the way up the left leg. It was sleeveless, with a large diamond-shaped section cut out in the front, obviously designed to show a lot of cleavage.

Milos had seen the gown before but never dared to wear it, wondering for what possible occasion he would need it, tonight as it seemed, was to be that occasion.

With Sonja’s help Milos wriggled his body into the gown before leaning down to slip on the ridiculously tall pair of pumps, Sonja had placed by his feet.

Raising himself carefully to a standing position, Milos almost fell straight back onto his bed. He could feel the strain in his ankles threatening to buckle under him as the frankly ludicrous heels he was now wearing made him feel ten feet tall. He tried moving and managed to take a few tiny mincing steps, like the dress, he had seen this pair of shoes in his collection many times but never dared to wear them.

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Thirty minutes later, Milos descended the central staircase of the mansion, trembling nervously on his tall platform pumps to find Marko waiting at the bottom eyeing him up.

Confused as to what was happening, Milos accepted a red rose from the smiling Marko who greeted him by pulling him close and kissing him passionately on his plump glossy red lips.

“Very sexy, Candy Doll”, he said, as he ran his hands slowly down the sides of Milos’ tight form-fitting gown. He then took a hold of Milos’ hand tipped with a set of long red acrylic nails to match his dress and led him out to the waiting car.

Their destination was a fancy restaurant in the centre of the city, but before entering, Milos was first told to stand in front and pose. Marko proceeded to take out a camera before taking great delight in snapping picture after picture of an uncomfortable looking Milos.

As the camera flashed in his face, Milos tried not to show his anger or frustration, instead, like always, he just gave Marko what he wanted.

(See image 5.2)

After what seemed like forever and with Marko finally satisfied, he was escorted inside, where they took up a seat by the window.

The restaurant, by most people, would have been described as romantic, with its ambient piano music playing and superb views of the city skyline. Milos thought about how amazing it would have been, to be there under different circumstances, perhaps where he was on a date with a beautiful blonde babe instead of being one himself.

Marko did the ordering and most of the talking, “so, Candy, I’m happy you have adjusted to your new life”, he stated like it was a fact while looking Milos right in the eyes across the candlelit table, “I want you to know, I’m a man true to my word, and I’ve decided to forgive you for trying to run away from me”. Milos just sat there staring at Marko sceptically, thinking that it must be some sort of trick.

Marko continued, “from now on, you will no longer degrade yourself by being a dancer, I’m moving you to my premier club where you will be the floor manager and number one hostess, you will show our most important VIP guests to their tables and make sure they are taken care of, this is a much more suitable position for my girlfriend”.

The last statement caused Milos to choke on his champagne, spitting it back into his glass as Marko looked at him slightly angered by the reaction, “unless that’s not what you want”? He boomed.

Milos quickly regained his composure, “no, of course not, Marko”, he replied, suddenly intimidated by the angry gangster sat across from him, “I’d be honoured to be your girlfriend”, he added, forcing out the words and feeling as though he was about to vomit, “I just need to use the bathroom, is that ok”?

Marko smiled, “Of course my little doll, but don’t be too long, ok”?

Milos tottered across the crowded room as quickly as his towering pumps would allow, and after somehow not tripping over anyone or anything, found himself in a bathroom stall throwing back up the seafood starter he had just eaten.

Stumbling over to the sink to freshen up, he splashed some water on his face before re-applying his lipstick and looking at his feminised image in the bathroom mirror. The person staring back at him was the epitome of a living Barbie doll. His mind still found it difficult to process that the image he saw when looking in the mirror was actually his own reflection.

Reality hit him in that moment like a sledgehammer. No longer was he Milos Ivanovic, and he probably never would be again. He was now Candy Doll, a former exotic dancer and gangster’s girlfriend.

All his life he had cursed his luck at the hand fate had dealt him, wishing to be someone else, but at that moment, staring at the blonde bimbo in the bathroom mirror, spilling out of her form-fitting red gown, and wobbling on her tall impractical platform pumps, he would have done just about anything to return to that simple life he once had.

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Entering the club a few weeks later, depressed and resigned to his new role, Milos’ eyes lit up she passed over his coat to the blonde cloakroom attendant. It was her, Alek’s cousin. For a moment he couldn’t believe it, now in a new club on the other side of the city, Milos had thought his means of contacting Alek had been severed, but here she was smiling at him.

Milos handed over his coat and received a nod and a wink in return. His eyes lit up once more as she walked away to store his little jacket, hoping and wondering if that meant a note would be waiting for him later that evening.

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At two in the morning, with his shift finally over and feeling absolutely exhausted, Milos stumbled up the stairs, ready to get out of the repulsive club. The blonde girl in the cloakroom, saw him coming and rushed off to fetch his jacket. She returned in the blink of an eye and handed him his tiny white jacket, that in truth, did nothing to keep him warm or cover up the tiny pink top he wore beneath.

Again, she winked at him as she handed him back his jacket, almost confirming in Milos’ mind that a note would be waiting for him, filling him with a sudden burst of energy. He wanted to jump up and down, smile or show any kind of reaction but with Olga waiting for him by the door, he just mumbled a thank you and trotted off towards the car waiting outside.

Stepping out onto the pavement with a click, the cold night air assaulted his half-naked body from all angles. using the opportunity, Milos pulled his jacket tightly around his upper body and placed his hands casually into his pockets.

The pockets were small, too small for his hand to fit in entirely, but large enough to feel around. Wiggling his long acrylic claws along the bottom of the pockets, he fought the urge to smile, feeling a small piece of paper between the tips of his fingers.

The ride back to Marko’s mansion that followed was excruciating. Milos desperately wanted to take out the note and read its contents. But instead, he waited patiently biding his time and trying to act natural, which meant pouting and looking miserably out of the window.

Back in the house, Milos went straight to his bedroom as he usually did after a long shift. Running over to the far side of the room by the window, he quickly reached into his pocket and fished out the note.

With his heart beating and adrenaline coursing through his veins, he opened the note with his shaking hands, it read, “Sorry for the delay, things got a little complicated after Marko moved you but I’m working on a way in which we can meet. Is there any time you can slip away for 5 minutes? I’m going to get you out of there Milena. That piece of shit Marko is not going to get away with this, together we are going to put that vile bastard behind bars where he belongs”.

Milos had just finished reading the final sentence when his bedroom door suddenly flew open. Seeing Olga burst in, Milos quickly stuffed the note down the back of his skirt before looking up at the imposing woman.

(See image 5.3)

“What are you doing? It’s time to sleep”, Olga said, giving him an odd look.

“Nothing”, Milos replied, trying not to look guilty, “just getting some air”, he added before turning to open the blinds on the window behind him.

Olga grunted, nodded her head, and left the room, leaving Milos shaking after his narrow escape.

Letting out a heavy sigh of relief, Milos felt the note pressing against his right butt cheek inside his frilly pink panties, but as uncomfortable as it was, he decided to leave it where it was, for the time being, not wanting to risk Olga walking in on him again while he was writing his reply. Besides, he needed time to think about how he was going to respond. Finally, being contacted again by Alek had filled him with hope once more but it also worried him. He had no idea how they were going to meet or if this man was even capable of helping him.

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The very next evening, Milos handed over his coat to the smiling blonde cloakroom attendant. His reply written in red lipstick read, “Thank you for not giving up on me but meeting up is not going to be easy. He watches me everywhere I go. The only time I am ever alone is when I’m in my bedroom at night, getting changed in the back room of the club, or using the bathroom”.

Milos had to wait four antagonizing long days for a reply, each one worrying that Alek might have given up on him. The words he had written also played through his mind on repeat as he obsessed about the way it had gone across. He wondered if he should have perhaps thought more carefully about the wording, but even after thinking it over for hours on end, he still couldn’t think of a way to get away from the watchful eye of Marko or Olga.

When he finally received a reply, he felt a great sense of relief, even if the message wasn’t exactly what he wanted to see, it read, “the situation is a tricky one, I tried to sneak into the club the other evening in disguise but security on the door recognised me instantly. They roughed me up a little, threw me out and warned me about returning. But don’t worry I am not going to let you down I promise, give me a little time, I’ll find a way to get to you”.