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I love this brute, I thought. I smiled. But it wasn’t always like this. I was mortally scared of him, some years back. I used to be terrified.
He was my roomy from college. He was this swaggering blusterhead in first year. And he was loud, big and brawny to boot – the complete opposite of me. I could hardly hear myself speak in those days, I smiled as I recollected. Now I am a complete chatterbox.
The first day was absolutely terrifying. He just swooped in to my room and occupied my bed and started removing my clothes from the cupboard nearby. Then he noticed me glaring and stopped. Good, I thought. But he had an amused look on his face. “Clear up, babe,” he said. I don’t know what made me do it. But I quietly cleared the cupboard and moved my stuff to the other cupboard that had one door jammed.
I was furious though. I had turned beet red. But I was also fighting back tears. But it was to no avail. They just rolled down. It always happened. I teared up when angry. No amount of self control would help.
He noticed it. He came near me, held me by my shoulders and turned me around. How easily he did that, I would think later. He just rubbed my tears off with his coarse palm and simply said, “Don’t cry, baby. I won’t hurt you.” And he left.
I just lay down on the bed, sobbing. Why did I let him do that, I thought. He had called me a babe and had addressed me as baby. I was angry and ashamed but I had not dared to correct him. So what if he was 6 feet tall and me only 5 feet. I should have, I thought. But I had dared not and instead let him see me cry. And even now, tears were rolling down as I lay thinking.
So the days went on. I used to completely avoid him. It was more out of shame rather than due to fear. I woke up early and left before he would wake up. And he used to come really late and did not bother me. Or so it was till that fateful sunday.
He used to completely go missing on Sundays. I used to wake up late and have long baths. That Sunday was no different. I had just come back to the room from the bathroom at the corner of the hostel wing corridor. I was rummaging through the cupboard that had one door jammed. My face was deep inside the cupboard looking for something to wear. Since the cupboard was dark, I could not find anything. And I hated messing up ironed clothes. I was taking my time.
I had not realized that the door was open, till I felt his coarse fingers on my hip folds. He let out a low whistle. “Wow”, he said while pinching me on the hip, “You are soo soft. Look at your hip folds! I love your love handles, baby”. I froze. From where he could see, I was only wearing a towel that was covering my waist and thighs. I dared not move.
He started caressing my hip folds. Things were getting out of hand. I extricated my head from inside the cupboard. As I turned around, I saw him staring at my bra covered chest. He had not removed his hand that was rubbing my hip a little hard now.
I realized that he was staring at my tight bra and chest. The bra was not a good fit and it was cutting into my soft flesh on the shoulders and sides below my armpits. He was checking out the overflowing flesh out of my bra and my chest area that were more than normal in size for a male. My school friends had always made fun of what they called my tiny titties. I used to laugh then. I had never bothered then. But now when a real man stared at them, I was feeling odd even though they were safely covered inside a bra. Oh my God, did I just think of him as a real man! Then what was I, I could not help thinking.
Oh, what is happening to me! In shame, I just turned around while simultaneously hiking up the towel that was tied at my waist and retied it around my chest a little higher so that it covered my chest and bra. But there was no hiding the bra with the straps still visible. If anything, I was only looking more girly. I realized how girly I was looking right then with a short towel hiked over to cover my bra covered hairless soft chest with. Not only that but this had also exposed my hairless thighs completely as it was a small towel. I turned pink in shame, when he started laughing and said, “How sweet! “That’s so like a girl.”
My worst fear had come true. My secret was out and my shame complete. My eyelids grew heavy with welling tears about to break a dam. I tried to blink them away. But that only made them roll down in two streams down my cheeks.
I knew he was about to do something as he advanced. I tried to back away, but there was nowhere to go behind my cupboard. I had no idea what he wanted to do but I said in a pleading whisper, “Don’t do anything please.”
He just came near and wrapped his left hand around my waist and dragged me close to him. Then he bent down to my short frame as I stood clutching my towel helplessly around my milky white body. He then put both his palms on my towel covered waist and was about to peck me on my lips. He was reeking of cigarette smoke. The smell revolted me and I felt like throwing up. But I did not know then that it was a smell that I would get used to and get used to loving over time.
I tried to push him away with my small hands but my efforts were to no avail. He easily overpowered me.
His kiss was about to get stronger. He tried to make himself comfortable before the final assault on my lips. His right hand had come down my waist and had grabbed my soft, white thighs that were easily accessible because of the short towel.
I just stood passively. His left hand was slightly tugging my hair from behind my head. He gave me no choice. The only way to feel comfortable was to be a ragdoll in his hands. I craned up my head to prepare to meet his lips.
I was horrified when his hands travelled slowly up my thighs into the towel on the back. I had not yet put on any underwear.
Then something snapped inside me. That is when I had realized what was about to happen. I started crying without any noise.
He realized the quiet sobs that were wracking my body. He did not kiss me. I was relieved. He moved back and brought his hands up to hold both my shoulders. “What happened, baby?,” he asked. “Why are you crying? You don’t like it?”, he said in a voice that was genuinely sounding concerned.
He raised my chin to make me look at him. With tear streaked cheeks, I looked up at him. Since I was so close, I had to crane my neck to meet his eyes. He was tall.
“Tell me, babe, don’t you like it?”, he asked again.
I tried to speak, but my sobs wouldn’t stop. He waited patiently till my crying subsided.
He still held me in a caring way, when I could finally start speaking. “It is not like that”, I said. “I don’t know if this is right”, I managed to whisper. He had got his answer.
“Oh”, he said and laughed. “I was worried. You will like it, babe. Don’t worry. I won’t do anything you don’t like. Now dress up,” he said.
I was really thankful. I was about to untie my towel when a sudden realization hit me. The brute was still facing me and his lascivious male eyes were about to light up in anticipation of watching me remove the towel.
I said half hopingly, “Will you be outside, when I change?”.
He threw his head back and laughed good naturedly. “No, sissykins”, he said. “Let me turn around while you finish your business”.
When he turned around after I finished dressing, he was in for a shock. I had changed to a unisex tee top and jeans that were a little tight. “Oh, why didn’t you wear girl’s clothes, dear?”, he asked me. “Don’t you have any?”
I shook my head shamefacedly. My tight ill fitting bra was the only piece of woman’s clothing, I had ever worn and owned.
“Let’s go”, he said with a sense of purpose.
When he started the bike and waited for me to hop on, I was hesitant. I said, “You go, dear”. Now I did not know what made me say dear. I was horrified as I realized what I was saying.
He looked around. For the first time, I was seeing anger in his eyes. “Why, what happened?”, he asked.
“My jeans is tight. I cannot sit on the bike. It will tear”, I said.
“Oh, then put both the legs on one side and sit sweety”, he replied matter of factly.
His tone would not take no for an answer. I quietly sat behind with both my legs on one side. Since he was big, there was not much place for me to sit. I also had an unusually large bottom for a boy. I had to keep my thighs close together to fit in. I finally managed, but there was nowhere to hold. I did not dare ask him though. He had a modified bike where all aids for pillion riders had been removed. I shifted my body weight to face forward while my legs were on the side.
When he started his bike, the sudden acceleration automatically brought me close to him and plastered my chest on his back. “Hold tight, sweety,” he said and zoomed ahead. My right hand naturally curled up from below to hold his right shoulder. And my left hand automatically moved to hold his stomach for balance. A slight turn of his wrist on the motorcycle’s throttle had made me his girl!
He did not say anything till we reached. He did not need to. And I did not speak either as I was thinking about the fast changing situation. If the room encounter where he had caught me in the bra had changed the power equation, the bike journey had completely redefined the gender equation between us. It did not matter what I was born as. I had just become his girl when his speeding up the bike had made me plaster myself on him for protection and hang on for dear life.
It was his house. It was locked. He told me that his parents and sister had gone for a marriage and won’t be back for a few days.
He directly took me to his parents’ room and opened a cupboard that had all kinds of clothes. “These are old clothes, dear. Nobody would notice them missing.”
So there it was in front of me. For the first time in my life, I had a whole wardrobe to choose from. The cupboard was full of clothes that his mom and sister had discarded over the years.
But I would not pick as I did not know where to start. He picked a pinafore frock. It was a checked pattern and looked like his sister’s old school uniform, but I dared not ask.
He asked me for my bra size. I said 32A. He laughed, “What a sissy sweetie you are!”, he said, “You know your cup size also!”.
I was getting upset. He was making fun of me. I did not like that. “I read and learned to measure by myself,” I said defiantly.
“Oh, ok, ok,” he said. “Look at you, turning red and all that”. He was laughing away. There was no stopping him.
I did not realize I had turned red in my face. It always happened when I got angry. My eyes started welling up with tears.
“Oh, no, no, sweety,” he said. “Don’t cry dear. I won’t make fun. I love you.” That was the first time he had said that.
I looked up at him, startled. He met me in the eye. He was gazing into my eyes. “Really?”, I only mouthed the words. He just tilted his head to mean yes. I did not say anything. Both of us were looking into each other’s eyes. There was no need for words.
Then the moment broke. He gave me what looked like a sports bra. He said it was his sister’s first bra. He said it would fit me as I was too small for my age.
He just gave it to me and asked me to change while he would go outside for a smoke.
Before going he turned around and said with mischief in his eyes, “I don’t think your size is A. It is more like AA”.
First I did not understand. “You mean they are bigger?”, I asked him.
“No, dearest. AA is smaller than A”, he said while winking so that I won’t mistake him.
“No way,” I retorted, quite indignant that he thought I was smaller than A cup.
“They are bigger than AA”, I said.
“What is bigger than AA dear?”, he asked innocently.
“Why, my breasts of course”, I said.
“Oh, you have breasts, really? I don’t see them. Why don’t you prove it?”, he continued.
By now, I had figured out what he was wanting.
“Oh really. I saw through your little plan. Now get out”, I said. I was also smiling by now.
Once he left, I quickly removed my tee and wore the bra. It was easy to slip into. It was like a cut banian that stopped somewhere at my chest instead of coming all the way. Just to feel modest, I turned away from the door. Why let the brute see through any hole or window, I thought while still smiling as I recollected his boyish plot to see my tiny breasts. I realized I was feeling quite happy only when I started humming a song to myself. This brute made me feel like a girl. I was crying. I was blushing. I was happy. I was jumping from one emotion to another. Wow, what a life it is to be a girl, I felt. And this guy was taking me through on an emotional roller coaster.
It was a small dress and I realized it would only come till the top of my thighs. If I sat up, it would rise further posing danger to my modesty. His plan was becoming all too clear. But I dared not change his plan as I remembered his anger I saw today morning before I got on the bike. I still remember how he towered over me when we met first time and how he easily overpowered today morning when he tried to kiss me. This is not a guy to mess with, I thought. And by the way, that kiss never really happened was also another thought I had simultaneously. Wow, I felt two emotions for this brute at the same time, I realized.
I need underwear, I thought. I rummaged through the cupboard. I quickly realized that his sister’s old panties won’t fit me. My waist size had no relation to my chest size. I was completely disproportionate. I never used to find readymade clothes of my size. My waist was smaller than my hip. I always had to be fitted.
I quickly discovered some of his mother’s old panties. They were worn out cotton panties, but I was not in a position to choose. I put one on.
Then I held up the pinafore. It was like a sleeveless frock. It had to be buttoned from behind. I would need help. I was kicking myself for sending him out.
Before that, I need something as a top, I thought. The dress he had given me was sleeveless. My sides and underarms would be exposed. The bra strap would show on the sides if I lifted my hands. And I had not shaved my underarms too. My underarms had some soft hair and some soft hair at my pubic area. Otherwise I was hairless. This dress would have needed a girl to shave her legs, but I hardly had any hair on my thighs or legs.
By now, he had become impatient. He started knocking but did not wait. He just opened the door and walked in authoritatively. I was a sight in my tiny sports bra and a wornout cotton panties. He let out a low whistle in appreciation. I felt a little flattered as he paused to check out my figure. I filled out at all the right places. Budding breasts, narrow waist, big bottom. I looked like a girl alright.
He took the pinafore from me and held them apart. “Come here”, he called. I knew what he wanted me to do. I stepped into dress gingerly. I held him for support. I thought his hands lingered at all the wrong places a little longer than necessary as he brought the little dress over my thighs and then up my waist on to my shoulders.
“Turn around”, he ordered. As I turned, he quietly buttoned up my back, but not before pausing to admire my wide hairless back covered only by a bra strap. I could feel his hot breath on my back. What would he do, I thought.
I could feel him come close as I felt his breath on my ears. He just hugged me from behind and kissed the back of my neck. Oh, a thousand volts ran through my back. Oh my god, oh my god, is this how it feels to be a woman, I thought. I could not bear it any longer. I knew I had to pull away.
I turned around to face him. I had to look up as the brute was very close to me and almost a foot taller than me also. He was sweating. I used to hate his sweat smell when he used to come back to the hostel room after playing. He would not take a bath also and the whole room would only smell of his sweat. It used to drive me mad. But now, I sort of liked the maleness of his sweat. No wonder guys get away with being dirty pigs, I thought. Girls love it in the right mood. And I was in the right mood. And I was being his girl. And loving it.
I felt very tender to see him so excited. For the first time that evening, I took both my arms and put them on his broad shoulders and around his neck and he pulled me closer. There was hardly any space between us. I did not even want to think about what would happen next. Time had stopped for me. I was in the moment. He was also in the same state.
He bent his head down and I looked up. Our lips wouldn’t meet. The brute was so tall. He just cupped my bottom and helped me raise myself on tiptoes. I was standing precariously like a ballet dancer with only his hands to support my bottom. He bent down again to meet my lips and his hands gave a teensie upward push to my bottom. My toes left Mother Earth for good. For the first time ever, our lips met and his tongue entered my lips.