The cold war 33

“Place your right hand on your hip”, Natasha commanded as Jake stared back at her in his zombie-like state.

“A little higher, and arch your back slightly”, she added demonstrating the pose to him.

Jake sighed, doing his best to imitate her movements as he felt the back of his calves begin to cramp after standing around in heels all afternoon.

The posing continued for another hour or so along with multiple outfit changes, each as feminine as the last and equally humiliating for the stunned young man, force to wear them.

“Ok, we are finished”, announced Natasha placing down her camera, “these have actually come out quite nice, you have a good face for modelling, very pretty”.

The comment stung but the announcement that the photoshoot had finally ending caused a wave of euphoria to crash over him.

It’s finally over, he thought to himself, looking down at his feminized frame and wanting nothing more than to get changed, get the hell out of there, and put this crazy day behind him.

Brushing a loose strand of hair from the wig behind his ear, Jake felt a tug on his forehead as the memory of his transformation and Natasha gluing the edges of the wig came rushing back.

She had videoed the makeover and the thought of anyone he knew seeing him sat in frilly a bra and panties set, looking up at Natasha as she carefully painted his face made him shudder.

“Can I change now”? Jake shouted across the room.

“Yes, yes, go”, Natasha replied nonchalantly, waving a hand at him without looking up from the camera screen as she flicked through some of the pictures she had just taken.

With his legs shaking Jake turned and wobbled his way towards the dressing room where he had changed between sessions.

Stumbling through the door, he tottered to the nearest chair and almost fell onto it. Leaning down he made quick work of the ankle straps attaching the glittery platform sandals to his aching feet.

With the release of his feet from their torture devices, he let out a moan of pleasure, tossing the shoes across the floor where they hit the sidewall with a thud.

Stretching out his calf muscles and moving his feet in circles, an immense feeling of pleasure hit him as he leaned forward slightly to unzip the back of his skirt.

He stood up and watched it slide down his smooth legs, the black and white checked skirt quickly joining the heels on the far side of the room as he kicked out a leg, sending it flying.

Reaching for the sparkly vest top hugging his upper body, which was about to join its companions in the heap of discarded clothes, Jake stopped in his tracks. His head spun one way before quickly pivoting the other.

Dropping to his knees he searched under the chair as his heart started to beat quicker. No… no… he wouldn’t, he muttered to himself, oh please God, no, he said panicking, having realised his clothes were now nowhere to be seen.

Storming out of the room, wearing only his sparkly vest and panties, Jake marched straight towards Natasha. “My clothes are missing, where are they”? He demanded angrily, having finally reached his breaking point.

“Gone”, Natasha replied, her face once again without an ounce of emotion.

“What the fuck do you mean gone”? Jake screamed, “what am I going to wear”?

Jake watched as Natasha’s lips curled downwards and her brow wrinkled, “I will find you something to wear”, she announced folding her arms across her chest”, but first let's get something clear, you are never again to speak to me like you just did, are we clear”?

“What clothes!”, Jake exclaimed loudly, “I've had just about enough of this shit, I want my clothes back and I want them…”.

Jake didn't finish his sentence as he was hit by what felt like a hammer blow across the side of his head, almost popping his eardrum and sending tumbling onto the floor.

“I said not to speak to me like that”, Natasha screamed, leaning down, and pointing a finger in his face, it was the first time she had shown any emotion all day and sitting on the floor with his ears ringing, Jake was terrified.

Cupping his chin with a vice-like grip, Natasha moved her face in closer, “are we clear”? She said in an angry tone.

“Yes… yes, I’m sorry”, Jake said in a trembling voice his jaw feeling like it was about to be crushed.

Releasing him, Jake fell once again to the floor in a heap, “good now get up”, Natasha said, her voice having returned to a calmer tone and her face once again devoid of expression, “I will help to find something to wear, follow me”.

===================================================================

Feeling completely powerless and ashamed, from that moment on, Jake followed every instruction he was given without comment.

He kept his mouth shut as Natasha picked out a ridiculous outfit and watched him put it on.

He also stayed quiet as he was marched out of the building and into a waiting car, climbing into the back seat as the same driver from earlier made a joke about his appearance, causing his companion in the passenger seat to keel over laughing.

As the car swiftly made its way back into the city, Jake closed his eyes praying for the ordeal to end. He couldn't bear to look down on his hairless legs and campy outfit any longer and was sick of the sight of the smirking face of the driver that kept glancing back at him through the rear-view mirror.

When the car stopped, Jake slowly opened his eyes and felt like he was about to vomit. looking out of the window he wasn't outside his house, instead, he was back at the same alley he had been picked up in earlier.

knowing he was about to be stranded in a rough neighbourhood, dressed like a fairy and with no money to make his way home, his leg started to shake uncontrollably.

“Wakey wakey, tranny boy, we're here, time to get out”, the burly man in the passenger seat announced smirking.

“Please, you can’t leave me here dressed like this”, Jake pleaded, “I’ll be killed, please just drive me back into Manhattan, I'm begging you”.

“Sorry faggot, we’re to drop you here, boss' orders”, the man replied, “oh, but don’t worry, we’re not going to leave you stranded, we ain’t heartless”.

Jake suddenly felt a glimmer of hope, but it was quickly extinguished as the man leaned over and opened his hand to reveal a few coins in his hand, “your pay, it should be enough to get you home on the subway".

Jake opened his hand and accepted the coins before just staring down blankly at his hand unable to move.

“What do you think he’s waiting for Boris”? the man in the passenger seat said turning to speak to the driver.

The driver turned, “I don’t know, Igor, perhaps the sissy wants to suck your cock before he leaves”, the driver replied, chuckling loudly.

“Well, you know, Boris, it has been a long day, what do you say doll? want to help old Igor relieve a little pressure”? Igor announced laughing loudly.

Jake didn’t respond, he just grabbed the door handle and in a flash, he was out of the car and scurrying away up the alley as fast as his tall wedge heeled sandals could carry him.

Reaching the end of the alley, he glanced back over his shoulder, relieved to see the car drive away but terrified realising he was not all alone.

Out of breath, with his heart thumping in his chest, Jake stopped to survey his surroundings. The houses were pretty run down and most of the walls were tagged with graffiti. It was about to go dark and to make matters worse, he couldn’t remember where the subway station was.

Slipping the coins into the small pocket of his jeans shorts, Jake lifted his left hand up to rub the side of his face. His ears were still ringing, and his cheek was burning in pain. He knew the trip home was going to be humiliating but wanting it over with, he took a deep breath and stepped out into the dilapidated street, his legs wobbling, and resisting the urge to throw up.

(See image 6.2)