-37-

Suddenly his confused thoughts were interrupted by Alice saying sternly, "Roberta, get up on the chair you used last night, so we can see what's happening better. Last night you couldn't manage to come for us. But having a transvestite faggot do it for you seems to be working better and more thrilling for you. I'll bet you're proud of that, aren't you. A real he-man!!!"

Wilma never missed a stroke with his hands or his mouth on Bob's stiff throbbing cock as Bob obediently stood up on the chair to exhibit his enforced perversity. Bob knew that very soon he would be ejaculating, whether he wanted to or not, when Alice again interrupted to say, "Stop working on him, Wilma. I want to see my wonderful, virile, girl-chasing husband jerk himself off while we all watch. He couldn't make it last night, but you seem to have inspired him tonight."

Wilma stepped back and joined the two real girls in staring at the bizarre figure on the chair. Bob was frantically jerking away at his rigid organ, so confused by all that had happened to him that his present action seemed right and normal. It had been over a week since his loins had been drained, and he had been subjected for the past twenty-four hours to almost continual sexual stimulation in one perverse form or another. The inner physical needs of his body, and his slavish need to obey Alice all combined to drive him on into solo sexuality.

-38-

It seemed to go on and on forever in his fevered mind, but within a moment or so his cock was spurting hot creamy semen across the room toward the three female figures. They all clapped and cheered, ridiculing his success until Joan added the final insult and assault to his wavering manhood.

"Don't stop playing with yourself just because you've shot your load, Roberta," she commanded. "And don't get down from the chair, the stage for your wonderful performance. I want you to keep looking at yourself in that mirror, so you'll see what a lovely girl you are, and what a foolish-looking man you are, with your hand covered with your own spunk and your cock getting limp as you keep playing with it. We three are going to take time out for a while, to have a drink and a cigarette, but you stay right up there on your chair and look at yourself.

Guilt and depression of a dozen different varieties began to pour over Bob like a smothering avalanche of painfully conflicting emotions as he stared balefully at himself in the big reflecting mirror. Things couldn't be as bad as they seemed to him now, but they really were, and he suspected they would get even worse before they started to get better. The gism was drying stickily on his hand and cock, and this confirmed his feelings by drawing the details of his plight into focus. The sight of himself dressed as a sexy girl would