TV NUDIST – A classic tale from C.C.

 TV NUDIST

     My name is Clinton Crayle, and I'm a very different kind of Private 
Eye. I specialize in untangling the kinky sex problems of the very rich. 
My fee is One Thousand Dollars a Day, and I'm seldom out of work. My 
clients know that my discretion is absolute and I guarantee my results. 
So if you're rich and in a jam, come to my office. Harold Belt did.... 

     "Mr. Belt," I said, "Your problem sounds interesting. Blackmail 
from a professional Dominatrix is, fortunately, rare. But from what 
you've told me, it's very real in your case." 

     "I guess I was a fool to write her all those letters," He sighed, 
drawing a cigarette from a gold case. "All my innermost fantasies, in my 
own handwriting. But I thought she could be trusted...." 

     "Most mistresses can be," I said, "this woman, this what's-her-
name...." 

     "Carla." 

     Belt lighted his cigarette with a flick of a very expensive 
lighter. 

     "Carla Dare, my - my Dominatrix for over a year." 

     "What I'm wondering," I went on, "Is why you haven't tried to get 
the letters yourself, or hired some other, less expensive, P. I. to get 
them for you." 

     "I have," He said, "But Carla seems to have a fool-proof set-up 
where she's living now. There's no way I can get close to her without 
her knowing it. And the last detective I hired quit the case without 
even telling me why. He just handed me his incomplete report and told me 
that even if he found out where the letters were hidden, he wouldn't be 
able to get to them. I knew then that the man I hired would have to be 
the best in the business - You"

    "Thanks," I smiled. "Now let me see that report while you fill me in 
on this fool-proof set-up." 

    Harold Belt explained. And as he spoke, I realized why no one could 
get close to Carla Dare without her knowing about it in advance. I also 
figured out why she'd waited until May to start her blackmail and had 
set September as the deadline for Belt to pay her a cool Million. I took 
the case. 

    And started preparing for a visit to Carla. At the Sunny Acres 
Nudist Camp. 

    It's not easy getting into a place like Sunny Acres. You have to be 
recommended by a current member, have your own camper, provide 
references, pay dues and abide by some strict rules. Fortunately, I have 
some good connections and Harold Belt provided me with a generous 
expense account. In less than a week, I was driving my rented mobile 
camper through the woods of upstate New York and into an assigned 
camping spot at Sunny Acres. 

    "You'll find the water and electric hook ups over there," The 
Director told me. He was a healthy looking man, just over middle aged, 
wearing nothing but sneakers and a suntan. 

    "The showers are right next to the General Store, where we also run 
a Post Office," He went on, "Mac - that's the big fellow down at the 
gate - he runs mail out to the Post Box, and he'll fetch things from 
town, if you should need anything." 

    "Sounds good," I tried to act casual, talking to this naked man. 

    "You'll find us rather liberal here," The Director continued, "Some 
Nudist Camps are pretty strict about young people having a good time, 
but we feel that as long as it's consenting adults - uh, you are an 
adult, aren't you Mr. Crayle?" 

    "Sure am," I answered, "Twenty-eight last January." I'm used to that 
question. My youthful looks and longish hair have often let me pass for 
a much younger man. 

    "Well, we feel that as long as you don't do anything really raunchy 
out in public, or don't force yourself on others, you shouldn't have any 
restrictions here that you wouldn't have, say, in a Single's Bar. 
There's only two rules that we enforce strictly."

    "First, as long as the temperature stays above Sixty Degrees, you 
have to be naked when you leave this camper. Shoes are okay, but no swim 
trunks or anything like that. This place is a camp for Nudists, and 
anyone who can't accept that can just - well, you understand." 

    "Sure," I smiled to hide my uneasiness. "What's the other rule?"

    "Well, a few years back, some blue-noses passed a law that places 
like ours have to provide separate hygiene facilities for men and women, 
and that includes showers. Now not every camper is as nice as yours, Mr. 
Crayle, so a lot of folks use those showers. And you'd be surprised how 
often some guy will try to get a peek into the Women's showers. You sure 
wouldn't think you'd have a problem like that at a Nudist Camp, but I 
guess it's a case of forbidden fruit looking sweeter. Anyway, a thing 
like that could cost us our license, so we have an attendant at the 
Lady's Shower twenty-four hours a day. Any man who tries to sneak in 
there gets thrown out of Camp. Immediately. Well," he seemed unsure of 
how to go on. "I guess that's it. Enjoy your stay, Mr. Crayle." And he 
left. 

    Alone, I undressed and pondered the situation. If Carla Dare was 
living here, as Harold Belt had told me, she certainly did have an 
interesting set-up  No one Could come onto the property without her 
knowing about it, so she'd know who to watch out for. I imagined that 
she'd check out newcomers like myself pretty closely. And it certainly 
would be hard to sneak Burglary Tools around in a Nudist Camp. This 
wasn't going to be an easy case, I reflected. 

    Well, the first thing was obviously to find Carla Dare and get some 
idea of what I was up against. Feeling shy and uncomfortable, I slipped 
the keys to my camper onto a chain around my neck, took off the last of 
my clothes, and put on a pair of sandals. Here goes nothing, I thought, 
as I walked out onto the grounds. 

    It was odd at first, walking around like that. There were few people 
about, since it was getting on toward evening, so I felt rather awkward 
and isolated, as though people were staring at my nakedness from 
somewhere. My pale skin did set me off from the crowd, and a few young 
girls pointed at my white bottom and giggled. I tried to act casual, but 
my stomach fluttered inside me and I kept fighting back a blush. 

    I soon reached the general store, however, and got a stroke of luck. 
As I entered, I heard a woman complaining to the attendant. 

    "Damnit it anyway!  Mac couldn't get into today, and you folks can't 
even sell beer. How's a lady supposed to get a drink around here?" 

    I looked at the tall, dark-haired woman, with her firm, high 
breasts, long legs and ripe ass and I recognized her immediately as 
Carla Dare from Harold Belt's description. 

    I wasted no time taking advantage of this chance. 

    "Excuse me," I smiled, "Maybe I can help."

    She turned and looked at me, mistrust in her eyes. Then, she 
grinned. 

    "Well, a Cotton-tail. And who might you be?" 

    As her eyes swept over me, I felt myself covered by the blush I'd 
been fighting. Her amusement at my paleness was very disconcerting. 
Nonetheless, I pushed on. 

    "Err- -Clinton Crayle's my name. I just got in this afternoon, and 
it -uh- it happens I have a g-good supply of Spirits in my trailer if 
you'd care to..... to... er...." 

     This was Silly I felt so shy and awkward. Me, who'd given smooth 
lines to dozens of girls before, now stammering such a crude proposition 
to this amused naked lady.

    "Hmmm", She smiled, "You certainly don't waste time, do you Mr. 
Crayle." She pretended to hesitate, and I wondered if she was torn 
between a mistrust of strangers and the need for a drink. Somehow, she 
didn't look like muff of a drinker to me. But she surprised me by 
saying: 

    "Well, I really shouldn't. But I guess there's no harm if I just 
drop by for a drink. Shall we say in about an hour, Mr. Crayle?" 

    "Call me Clint," I said, "I'm in lot Thirteen, Miss Da..-Miss, uh?" 

    "Carla Dare," She seemed not to have noticed my near-slip. "See you 
in an hour - Clint".

    I felt a little better as I walked back to my trailer. This was my 
chance to get close to my quarry, to find out what kind of person she 
was, and, perhaps, get a lead on those letters. I was nearing my trailer 
when an odd voice broke in on my thoughts. 

    "Hi there. New in town?" 

    It was a tall, slender man, fairly young, his hair as blonde as 
mine. A black man, slightly shorter but more muscular, walked with him. 
Something about the pair seemed a little off key somehow. 

    "Err- Hello", I said, embarrassed all over again. "I-uh- just got in 
today. Clinton Crayle is my name." 

    "Just call me Art," the blonde man said. He shook my hand with an 
odd, caressing touch. "And this," he gestured to the black man, "Is 
Roger." 

    "Charmed, I'm sure," Roger's voice was surprisingly soft. And his 
handshake was delicate and lingering. "Art and I have the camper next to 
yours," he smiled, "We're roomier." 

    "Why not drop over tonight, Clinton?" Art asked, "Roger and I just 
love company." 

    Somehow, he was eyeing me just as Carla had. I felt a fresh wave of 
embarrassment at my nudity. 

    "Uh, that-that would be nice," I said, "But I'm afraid I have 
someone coming over tonight. A-er- lady." 

    Roger's lip curled faintly. 

    "Well," he said, "Some other time, then. Good day." 

    As the two men walked to their trailer, I thought I saw them holding 
hands. What a narrow escape that was. 

    Back inside my luxurious camper, I checked the tape deck, fluffed up 
pillows on the bed, and made sure the portable refrigerator was chilling 
the wine. I set out some crackers and pate and took a quick shower, 
drying off and powdering myself with talc. I wanted Carla to be 
impressed with me. 

    There was a rap at my door. 

    "Coming", I called. Naked, I padded across the thick carpet and 
opened the door. 

    And got something of a surprise. Carla was standing there fully 
dressed. 

    "Well?" She smiled at the shock on my face. "Aren't you going to 
invite a Lady in?" 

   Not waiting for an answer, she swept in.

    "Oh, it's lovely."

    I had a chance to get over my surprise and take a closer look at her 
now. she was wearing an elegant black gown, gathered at the neck, 
shoulderless, with a very low cut back. Silk stockings, high heels, 
jewelry and a rather large purse completed her outfit. 

    "How did you...?" I stammered, "That is...I thought you'd be..." 

    "Naked as a Jaybird?" She smiled, "Well, that's hardly the way for a 
demure little lady to come calling on a man she's just met. I carried 
these things over in this bag and put them on in the shadows outside. 
But I think you look simply charming. Mmmm, smell nice too." 

    "Excuse me, while I slip into something," I started. 

    "Oh no you don't." Carla was still smiling but there was a firm 
undertone to her words. "As long as I'm the guest here, I want you just 
as you are."

    "But...but I feel kind of funny this way. I mean, with you dressed 
and all." 

    "Nonetheless," She stated, "If you want my company here, you'll stay 
naked. If you put on as much as a slipper, I'm leaving." 

    "Well," I didn't want to lose this chance.  "I guess if you put it 
that way, I can't get dressed."

    "Fine," She said, "Now show me about the place. Then you can serve 
me some wine." 

    She seemed impressed by the luxury of my camper. 

    "How nice. You even have a shower. I have to use the Camp shower 
facility. Oh, and a wet bar".

    As she toured through the small trailer, I noticed that she examined 
things rather closely. My closets, lockers, even my refrigerator, all 
got a thorough once-over. As if she were looking for something. I 
wondered now, just who was checking out whom. It occurred to me that 
perhaps her complaint in the General Store had been just a come-on. A 
trick to get a closer look at the new-comer, me. Was it possible -that 
this striking woman was a lot sharper than I'd thought? 

    But she soon relaxed and let me pour her some wine. 

    "You look so cute, serving like that", She giggled, "You should have 
a little apron". 

    "I'd be glad to wear anything right now," I said, "My feet are 
getting cold."

    "Hmmm," She considered, "I suppose I should let you wear something." 

    "I'd be very grateful," I urged. 

    "But you know," She went on, "I can't be too careful. I mean, a 
woman alone with a man, in his rooms, after you've seen me nude. I'm 
afraid that the wrong clothes might make you - oh, how shall I put it? - 
too masculine and aggressive. I wouldn't want you to force your 
attentions on me, after all." 

    "I'll gladly wear anything that will make you feel safe." 

    "Word of honor?" She teased. 

    "Word of honor," I confirmed. 

    "Very well, then," To my surprise, Carla reached into her purse. 
"Put this on."

    It was a lacy white apron. 

    Before I could say a word, she was behind me, tying it around my 
waist, securing the apron strings with an elaborate bow. 

    "Carla"' I winced, "What is this? That's awfully tight."

    "No buts. put them on. And the shoes, too or I leave this instant." 

    Reluctantly, I pulled the dark stockings on. They molded themselves 
to my legs, hiding the trace of masculine hair there. Then Carla 
squeezed my feet into her five-inch heels, tightening the straps 
herself. 

    "Nice," She said. "The heels give a very sexy swish to your walk. 
Move around some for me." "Well it's such a tiny thing," She explained,        
"It can barely fit around even this slender waist of yours. There, I 
think that's charming." 

    I didn't. I felt awful in the frivolous thing. It seemed to be a 
mere nothing of white nylon lace, and the bow in the back called 
attention to my bare rump beneath it. In front, it barely hung low 
enough to cover my privates. 

    "Carla, must I wear this?" I complained. 

    "You certainly must," She insisted. "And that's not all," She 
slipped off her high heels, reached up under her gown, and started 
removing her dark hose. 

    "You were complaining about being cold," She said, "These should 
keep your legs nice and warm." 

    She handed them to me. Dark, thigh-length hose with elastic tops. 

    "I can't wear those," I protested, "I mean, they're so feminine". 

    "They'll go very nicely with that cute little apron," Carla said. "I 
know you're a man, and there's no one else here, so you needn't worry 
about that. you want me to stay, don't you?" 

    "Of course I do. But..." 

    I did as she ordered. The heels were awkward and a little painful, 
but I managed to walk around in them. 

    "Very good," Carla beamed, "You certainly know how to move that ass. 
Now, just a little makeup and you'll be all set."

    "Makeup", I squeaked, "Carla, that's going too far." 

    "Nonsense," She said, "It'll wash right off. It'd sure be a shame 
for me to leave now after you've gone this far, but that's what'll 
happen if you won't wear just a little makeup." 

    "Well," I wavered, "I guess you've got a point..." 

    Minutes later, I surveyed myself in the full-length closet mirror 
and felt a flush of shame. 

    Carla had combed my hair into a girlish wave and put a white ribbon 
in it. It seemed terribly feminine. But that was just the start. Eyebrow 
pencil, eye shadow, even false eye lashes combined to give my eyes a 
soft, sexy look. Powder and rouge softened my features and brought out 
my girlish cheeks. And my lips had been painted an alluring, kissable 
red that matched my brightly-colored fingernails. 

    Carla hadn't stopped there, though. Working skillfully with the 
rouge, she highlighted my bare chest, emphasizing the slight curve of my 
breasts, darkening the aureoles. As I studied my self in the mirror, I 
could scarcely believe how remarkably feminine I looked. 

    "Admiring your body, Sweet?" 

    I turned at the sound of Carla's voice, embarrassed all over again 
by my appearance. Then, I was amazed to see that she had removed the 
rest of her own clothing and was lounging nude on my couch. 

    "Guess I can get comfortable now," She said, stretching her tawny 
body. "You certainly don't look masculine and threatening any more. 
Serve me some more wine and then put some music on. I want to see how 
you look when you dance." 

    As I timidly obeyed, I realized that this woman must truly be a born 
Dominatrix. Here we were, after barely an hour and she'd reduced me to a 
feminine maid in my own camper. I scampered about, blushing every time I 
caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and wondered how she had done 
this to me. 

    Well, I thought, it's only temporary. Just till I could find out 
where she was hiding those letters from Harold Belt. Boy, would she feel 
foolish when I got them.

    But for now, it was me who felt silly, simpering about at her 
command as she lounged nude on my couch. Somehow, I found her lush body 
incredibly exciting, even as I rebelled at the indignity of my own 
appearance. I felt odd stirrings of arousal, and I'm sure Carla noticed 
my twitching cock.  This went on for more than an hour, until she 
said: 

    "Well, it's getting late, and I imagine you're tired, so I'll be 
leaving now." 

    "Leaving?" I asked, dismayed. "But it's only Nine O'clock. Can't you 
stay a little longer?" Besides, I thought, I still hadn't a clue as to 
the whereabouts of the letters. 

    "Sorry, Love," Carla smiled sweetly. "If I stayed much longer, I'm 
afraid I just couldn't control myself. I might just eat you up, you look 
so sweet. And on the first date, too." She shook her head. "No, 
beautiful, I'm afraid you wouldn't respect me if I let you have me so 
easily," She stood up, flaunting that magnificent body of hers as she 
studied the frustration in my face. "And I guess you know, I insist on 
respect from men"' 

    "Can...can I see you again?" I asked weakly as Carla put on a pair 
of sandals. 

    "You certainly may," She smiled, putting her clothes into the bag, 
"You may walk me to my trailer if you'd like"' 

    "Oh, I'd love that"' I said, "Just give me a second to change." 

    "Uh-uh," She shook her pretty head. "If you want to see me again, 
you'll have to walk me home just as you are now"' 

    "But Carla"' I protested, "I can't go out like this"' I gestured 
down at my feminized state, my stockings and heels, my apron, hair 
ribbon and makeup. "If anyone saw me, I'd get kicked out of camp"' 

    "It's quite dark out tonight," Carla said, "If we're a little 
careful about where we walk, no one will see you. Come on, it'll be a 
real lark"' 

    "I don't know," I said, "I feel just awful like this"' 

    "Tell you what," Carla urged, "I have a very important bit of 
information for you. Something very sexy and exciting that I know you'll 
be interested in. If you'll walk me to my trailer, I'll tell it to you 
when we get there." 

    I was hooked. And we both knew it. I couldn't pass up the chance to 
learn something else from this mysterious woman. Carla waited outside as 
I put out the lights and fastened my key chain around my neck again, 
then snuck out of my trailer, locking it securely. 

    "Ooo, isn't this exciting?" Carla giggled in delight at the sight of 
me, outside in my feminine embarrassment. "You're so sweet to do this 
for me. Here, here's a little present for you." 

    So saying, she held up the onyx necklace she had worn that evening. 
She stepped behind me, and, with a little difficulty, fastened it around 
my neck. 

    "There"' She smiled, "Now you're just perfect"' 

    But I was too busy looking around me to appreciate her addition to 
my humiliating appearance. 

    "D...doesn't seem to be anyone around," I ventured cautiously.

    "Oh no," Carla informed me, "There's a big dance over at the Main 
Building. Most everyone will be there. My trailer's in the opposite 
direction, so we're not apt to see very many people." 

    "Thank goodness"' I shivered, although the night was warm. "Let's 
get going"' 

    We must have been an odd sight. Carla, naked, walking confidently 
slow while I, dressed in bits and pieces of feminine attire, minced 
awkwardly beside her, hips switching, trying to hurry her along. 

    "Don't be so impatient," Carla chided, "It's not far, really." 

    "Oh Carla," I whined, "It's so hard to walk in these tiny shoes' And 
I'd just die if anyone saw me like this"' 

    "Well then you'd better think of something fast. You're much too 
young to die, and someone's walking our way." 

    I saw the figure in the light from a trailer, even as Carla spoke. A 
tall, well-built man, totally nude. And walking right toward us!

"What'll I do?" I gasped. 

    "He hasn't seen us yet," Carla said calmly. "If I were you, Sweetie, 
I'd scamper over behind those bushes and hide. You can catch up with me 
after I get rid of him. But you'd better hurry"' 

    She didn't have to tell me twice! Panic-stricken, I trotted into the 
shadows and hid there, watching. 

   It was a strangely erotic scene. The naked male and the nude female, 
meeting on the path, their perfect bodies gleaming in the moonlight. As 
I watched, the man engaged Carla in conversation. They talked for a 
while, and I could see that the man was trying to lead Carla back the 
other way, toward the dance. She shook her head softly, however, and I 
could see that the fellow was disappointed. To make up for it, Carla 
kissed him, and it was so wild, seeing their bodies come together as 
they embraced. 

    I watched from my hiding place, strange emotions running through me. 
Excitement at seeing such an erotic display. Confusion about my peeping-
tom eavesdropping. Tension, I mean, what if Carla did go off with him 
and I never got to find out what she had to tell me? And above all, fear 
that somehow this man might see me in this awful feminine get-up. 

    But at last they broke off their passionate embrace. The man went 
his way and Carla hers. I hurried to catch up with her. 

    "My," I panted, "That was close"' 

    "Mmmhmm," Carla sighed, "Closer than you realize...yet." she looked 
at me. "I guess that little scene must have excited you, Darling"' 

    I looked down and saw to my embarrassment that my cock was hard, 
stiff and straining under the apron. Carla gave it a delicate caress. 

    "Don't you feel silly," She teased, "A girlish little thing like you 
with a hard-on? Did he excite you that much? Or is it those feminine 
clothes that turn you on?" 

     "I'm not into that. I'm not"' I insisted as Carla grinned broadly 
and gave my cock another squeeze. "It's just...oh, I don't know." 

    "Well, you'll have plenty of time to think it over tonight," Carla 
said, "We're at my trailer." 

    As she unlocked her camper, I noted with surprise that it was the 
same make and model as my own, but a different color. This woman must 
really have some money put into this project if she was living as well 
as I was. 

   But Carla started talking, and I tried to clear my confused mind and 
listen attentively. 

    "Well," She said, "I'm going inside. You can't come in, so you'll 
just have to walk back to your trailer alone. Think you can find it?" 

    I nodded. 

    "Good. Now for that bit of information I promised you. Here it is: 
I've been very mean to you tonight." 

    "You have," I tried to make it a statement, but it came out sounding 
like a question. 

    "Mmm..., meaner than you know...yet. You see, you won't be able to 
get those things off until you get back to your trailer. That apron is 
tough nylon, and I knotted it very tightly. You'll probably have to cut 
it off. And your shoes are fastened shut with tiny locks on the buckles. 
I left the key under your couch cushions. You can't take off your 
stockings over your shoes, of course, and the makeup, the necklace, even 
your cute little hair ribbon, will all be very difficult to remove." 

    "I...I guess I'll just have to hurry back and get inside my trailer, 
then," I admitted "I just hope nobody sees me." 

    "I hope so too, for your sake Sweetie," Carla stepped inside her 
trailer and spoke to me through the open door. "But there's no hurry. 
You see, when I put that necklace on you, I secretly slipped off the 
chain with your keys on it. You're locked out of your trailer, all 
dolled up in feminine clothes that you can't take off"' 

    My hands fluttered up to my neck, searching for the key chain, but 
found only Carla's necklace. She saw my eyes widen and quickly 
continued. 

    "Oh, I don't have your keys, Beautiful," She said, "I gave them to 
that guy back there on the path. I said I'd found them and asked him to 
hang them on the bulletin board right outside the Main Building...where 
the Dance is being held. You'll have to wait until the crowd breaks 
up...about Midnight...then try to sneak up under the spotlights and get 
your keys without anyone seeing you. Good luck, Girlie"' 

And she closed the door. 

    "Carla'" I cried, desperately, "Don't do this to me' Let me in!" 

    But her only reply was to turn on the outside light, sending me 
scurrying into the protective darkness. 

    Huddled there, I shivered in dread at this woman's fiendish 
ingenuity. I knew that the penalty for wearing clothes in public here 
was immediate expulsion from the camp, a penalty that would effectively 
prevent me from carrying out my assignment. Carla knew it too, and must 
be really enjoying the double cruelty of tricking me outside in women's 
clothes. I had to hide, now. Not only to keep from being kicked out, but 
also to avoid the awful embarrassment at being seen this way. 

    Keeping to the shadows, I made my way toward the Main Building. It 
proved to be harder than I'd expected. I knew the general direction, but 
it's difficult to find your way around a strange place at night. I had 
to listen carefully for noises and scan the darkness for the glow of 
party lights. As I got closer to my destination, however, more and more 
people were about. I had to jump behind bushes, apron strings flying, to 
avoid being seen, and make wide detours in those awful heels to skirt 
groups of revelers. 

    Finally, I found a spot in a grove of trees where I could just see 
the Main Building and wait for the Dance to end. Time seemed to slow, 
almost to stop as I waited there in my feminine garb. With no watch, I 
had no way of knowing how long the Dance had to go. People kept arriving 
and leaving randomly. And although I was too far away to recognize 
anyone, quite a few stopped at the large bulletin board mounted on posts 
outside the building. What if one of them took my keys by mistake? What 
would I do, I wondered? 

    After an eternity of discomfort and suspense however, I at last saw 
the crowd thinning out. More time passed and more and more of them left. 
Finally, I saw the director lock up the entrance and leave. 

    At last, I thought. Walking stiffly in the tight heels, looking 
cautiously about for any chance passers-by, I sashayed up to the Board. 
Quivering under the merciless spotlight, I searched for my keys. But 
what I found instead was a note:

           DEAR CLINTON,
       APRIL FOOL! I REALLY LEFT YOUR KEYS ON THE
       GROUND IN FRONT OF YOUR CAMPER. HOPE YOU
       HAD A NICE TIME COMING ALL THE WAY OVER
       HERE AND WAITING AROUND LOOKING LIKE THAT!
           LUV THIS,
             CARLA

    Furious, I snatched the note down and scurried back to my camper. 
The keys were on the ground, just as the note said. All that waiting, 
that dreadful embarrassment, for nothing. Inside, as I removed the 
shameful feminine garments and rubbed off the makeup, I began to calm 
down a little. And as I moved around the camper, I began to notice 
subtle little tell-tale signs. 

    The place had been searched! And now I knew that I was up against a 
truly brilliant opponent. 

    Thinking back over the night's events, I saw just how clever Carla 
had been. She'd arranged to start off with me naked, so that I couldn't 
hide anything on my person while she gave the trailer a quick once-over. 
I had noticed her subtle search, and she had noticed me noticing. So she 
had cunningly arranged to get me out of the trailer, wearing clothing of 
her choice, and keep me out for hours while she came back and gave it a 
thorough search. By now, she would have found my P. I. license and would 
be fairly certain of what I was So after. It looked like she held all 
the cards now. 

    All but one. 

    I thought I knew where she'd hidden the letters. 

    I was up late the next morning, after spending most of the night 
thinking. All night, I had tried to put myself in Carla's shoes -
figuratively, that is - and think like she must be thinking. She had a 
good set-up here at Sunny Acres and she wasn't likely to blow it just 
because a Private Eye showed up. She'd scared off one Peeper already, 
and after the way she'd handled me last night, she probably wasn't too 
worried about me getting very far with this case. 

    Of course, she didn't know about all my resources. She probably 
figured that I was just another guy whom she could easily dominate, as 
she had last night. And she didn't know that I knew where she was hiding 
the letters. 

    Well, I didn't know for sure, but I had a pretty good clue. Last 
night, while touring my trailer, she had admired the built-in shower and 
mentioned that she had to use the Camp Shower Facility, that "Women  
Only" facility that the Director had warned me about. And according to 
my predecessor's notes, she did go to the Shower Room every day. 

    Yet, after making that humiliating walk over to her place, I had 
found that her trailer was the same make and model as mine, so she must 
have a shower of her own.

    Now why would a woman with her own shower visit the Camp facility 
every day? Obviously, she must be hiding something there and wanted to 
keep an eye on it. The letters! 

    As soon as I figured that out, I knew it had to be right. Such a 
place would appeal irresistibly to Carla's cruel sense of humor. A spot 
that was guarded Twenty-four hours a day, where she could come and go 
freely, but no man could follow. The penalty for even trying to sneak 
into the place was immediate expulsion for any man, and Carla would know 
instantly if I were to bring a woman into the camp. So she probably 
thought the letters were completely safe there, and yet tantalizingly 
close. 

    Yes, that would appeal to her, all right. 

    But I thought I could outsmart her. 

    It was the crack of dawn, two days later, when the car bearing the 
bearded man pulled up in front of my trailer. He seemed a little amused 
at the sight of me answering the door naked, but he quickly carried in 
the heavy suitcase, straining under his bulky sweater and baggy 
trousers. As I locked the door behind him and drew the blinds, he 
slumped onto the couch, panting. 

    "The least you could do," he said, as the false beard came off, "is 
give a lady a hand." 

    "That would have been a sure tip-off," I said, "I think the two guys 
in the next trailer are watching me, and I can't have them suspecting 
there's a woman here. You won't be able to stay very long, either, or 
they'll get suspicious. We'll have to make sure they see you leave as a 
man, also. I know it's a lot of trouble, but after all, I'm paying you 
well enough, Evelyn Traynor."

    I should explain, dear reader, that Evelyn Traynor was known to me 
as an exceptionally talented woman. She runs a well-stocked Boutique for 
transvestites in a large city and she's a master - or mistress - of 
cosmetic disguise. Some time ago, she had even transformed me into a 
woman, complete with false breasts and a tiny wig that managed to cover 
my male organs and disguise them as a woman's pussy hair. In this state 
- much against my will - I had been forced to work at a Gay nightclub 
for nearly a week by two sadistic teenagers before Evelyn would 
transform me back. She, of course, hadn't known that I didn't really 
want to be made over into a female. She was only doing her job, and 
doing it quite well at that! 

    But now it looked like I could make good use of Evelyn's unique 
talent. 

    "You sounded very mysterious over the phone," She said, opening her 
bag. "But you are paying enough to make all this trouble worthwhile. You 
said you wanted the 'Skin Out' treatment again..." 

    "That's right," I said, "I'm sure you've noticed this is a Nudist 
Camp," I was almost casual about being naked by now, but I crossed my 
hands over my lap as I sat in front of this amused woman. "I want to 
pass as a woman here. It's that simple. You made me into a perfect copy 
of a naked woman once, and I know you can do it again." 

    "Yes, and I think you'll be pleasantly surprised," She said, "Just 
lie down on the couch there. I see you've already shaved off all your 
body hair. That'll save us oodles of time, Dearie!" 

    She moved around out of my sight for a moment, then returned with a 
hypodermic syringe. 

    "Now this won't hurt much at all, so be a brave little girl!"

    To my surprise, she gave me two shots, one on each side of my chest. 
She hadn't done that the last time. 

    "Oooo!" I complained when she was finished, "What was that for?" 

    "The last time I transformed you," Evelyn explained, bustling about 
with more equipment, "I glued false rubber breasts to your chest. This 
time, I thought I'd give you something a bit better. The substance I 
just injected into your chest is a sort of concentrate. Over the next 
hour, it will mix with the fat in your chest and swell up, giving you 
real, natural looking breasts!" 

    "Real breasts?" My eyebrows shot up in shock. "But I don't want... 
How long will they last?" 

    "Oh, Six to Twelve weeks," Evelyn said casually. "If you want to 
conceal them, you can always wear-loose clothing, as I'm doing. Now 
spread your legs, Dear, it's time for me to work on your jewels." 

    How awful! I thought. I certainly hadn't planned on being stuck with 
real breasts for nearly three months! But it was too late to stop now. 
Meekly, I spread my legs and let Evelyn go to work on my privates. 

    Evelyn Traynor's Pussy-wig involves an elaborate process, with 
several secrets known only to her, but I think I can explain the basics 
of it. 

     First, she applies an ice pack to the genitals, causing them to 
shrink as a natural reaction to the cold. Then, she takes advantage of 
this temporary effect by slipping the cock and balls into small, 
confining devices, making the reduced size permanent. 

    An oval-shaped semi-flexible plastic cup goes over the balls. Evelyn 
pushes this back between the legs where she glues it to the skin and 
pubic hair with special bonding latex. There is a small tube mounted on 
this plastic cup, and Evelyn slips the shrunken, flaccid penis into this 
tube and secures it there. Thus, the total male equipment is tucked and 
held firmly back between the legs, much reduced in size. 

    Finally, Evelyn glues a triangular wig over the apparatus, artfully 
styled to look like a woman's pubic thatch. She has even shaped the 
device to suggest pussy-lips. Wearing it, a man's true sex is not only 
concealed, but attractively disguised as a woman's. The penis tube 
permits the wearer to empty his bladder -if he sits down - but of course 
completely prevents the cock from getting erect. In no way can a man in 
this device ever express his true maleness until it is removed. 

    "You were wise to send for me to do this," Evelyn said as she 
secured a wig to my head by lacing my real hair through it. "A job like 
this calls for an expert with years of experience. Use the wrong latex, 
and the skin will blister horribly. And I'm sure you remember that you 
can't remove that pussy-wig without the proper solvent. Don't worry, 
I'll leave you a generous supply. Just don't forget that if you try to 
take off the pussy-wig without it, you'll rip the skin right off."

    At last, Evelyn announced that I was done and helped me to my feet. 
I tiptoed over to the mirror and surveyed her work.

    My blonde hair, augmented by the wig, now swept quite gracefully 
over my bare shoulders. Beneath it, my face was the very picture of 
femininity, with long-lashed shadowed eyes, pink cheeks and sensuous red 
lips.

    The new breasts - that I was stuck with -  were not overly large, 
but they were definitely firm and well-shaped. I tentatively explored 
them with my feminine fingertips and felt them swell as the nipples 
stiffened embarassingly. 

    Below this, my shaven body now seemed totally feminine. Long, smooth 
legs, rounded bottom, and there, between my legs, a woman's inviting 
love nest. 

    I moved about before the mirror, examining myself front and back, 
extending my legs, raising my arms, turning about and stepping daintily. 
It was perfect. I looked totally female. 

    "My! I do love to see a TV enjoy herself!" Evelyn laughed. 

    I had almost forgotten about her. I stopped suddenly embarrassed, 
not just by my feminine condition and nudity, but that Evelyn had seen 
me capering about that way. I grabbed a towel and held it up to me 
rather self-consciously. 

    "Well, I must be going," Evelyn had packed her bag and was now
putting the false beard back over her face. "I certainly hope you enjoy 
your new role, Dearie. I left you a few feminine things you may need. 
Have fun now!" 

    I blushed, wishing there were some way I could explain to her that I 
wasn't a transvestite. That I was only doing this for business. Then I 
looked down at my nude, totally feminine body, the pert breasts, the 
shapely legs, and the soft-looking pussy. I tasted the lipstick on my 
mouth and felt the odd heaviness of my false eyelashes. And I knew there 
was no way I could make her believe it. I watched quietly from the 
darkness of my trailer as she drove off. 

    Now, I thought, time for action. I quickly gathered up a few things, 
a white bath towel with a few vital items rolled up in it, and a white 
latex shower cap that Evelyn had left. Next, a pair of women's white 
sneakers with rather thick soles and a three inch heel, laced onto my 
bare feet. I clipped my key chain around my neck - no losing it this 
time - and crawled out a loading door, out of sight of Art and Roger's 
trailer. 

    I was outside now, totally feminine and naked, ready for a trip to 
the showers.

    It was like an out-of-body experience, walking across the camp. I 
felt giddy, afraid and elated at the same time. I mean, here I was, 
walking about in broad daylight, a stark naked woman! My shapely breasts 
jiggled and my bottom swayed sensusly as I moved my long, shapely limbs. 
The cool air on my nipples and between my legs felt oddly thrilling. It 
was weird, not having the familiar masculine bulge there, and feeling 
instead the weight of my swaying breasts. And it was even stranger to be 
walking around in public this way without getting even a second glance - 
except, perhaps for some lustful stares from the men!

    One man in particular admired me rather frankly. His hot stare up 
and down my body set me blushing all over and he laughed with delight as 
I passed. I recognized him as the guy who had kissed Carla a few nights 
ago, and I was glad to get past him without any amorous approaches. 

      Finally, I reached the showers. I had timed it beautifully. Too 
late in the day for morning bathers and too early for people cleaning up 
after the day's activities. Except for the muscular female attendant at 
the doors, the place was deserted as I donned my white latex bathing cap 
and stepped inside. 

      It took me forty-five minutes of searching before I found the 
loose wall tile with the plastic bag behind it, full of papers. I 
quickly I rolled the letters up in my towel, replaced the tile and left. 
And it was barely a moment too soon. I was several yards from the shower 
building when I caught a glimpse of Carla going in from another 
direction. Talk about a narrow escape! 

      But I knew that I was going to have to move fast. Once she found 
the letters were gone, Carla would undoubted come looking in the most 
obvious place - my trailer - with all the resources at her command. I 
was going to have to get rid of them, fast! Fortunately, I had prepared 
for that emergency. 

      First, though, I had to make sure I had it the right stuff. I 
found a shady knoll, where I could see anyone coming, unrolled my towel 
onto the ground and stretched my naked, feminine body across it. And 
started reading. 

Dear mistress,

    You have commanded me, your Slave Harold Belt, to write you another 
of my fantasies. I must obey. In my fantasy I am a rich, spoiled 
hypochondriac with a private room in an expensive hospital. The Doctors 
have long since grown tired of my complaining and the only one who 
visits me is you, my private nurse.    

    One day, I try to rape you. You easily repel my attack, then 
threaten to have me thrown in jail. I plead for any punishment but that. 
We agree that you will impose your own punishment, and I must take it. 
You shave off all my body hair, then start wrapping me in plaster 
bandages. They go on easily when wet, but soon start to harden, like a 
plaster mold. You bind me up in them with my arms behind my back, elbows 
meeting. You force me to suck in my stomach, and wrap me very tightly so 
I can scarcely breathe. You make me arch my back and stick my chest out 
and you cut round holes in the front so that my bare breasts stick out 
like a woman's. Above the waist, only my face and breasts are left free 
of the confining mold.

     And then you start in below the waist. You wrap the bandages up my 
shaven legs that I cannot bend my knees, stopping at the tops of my -
thighs. You wrap my ankles and feet so that I can only walk on tip-toe. 
And you tape my cock back between my legs, since I won't be needing it 
again, you say.

    Finally, you force me to look at myself in a mirror and it's so 
awful, seeing what you have done to me. I'm Completely covered in smooth 
plaster, except for my face, breasts and butt. I have no arms, and my 
narrow waist emphasizes my flaunting ass and blobs.

    I beg you to release me, but you only laugh and make me tiptoe 
around the room. I must depend on you totally now, for food, cigarettes, 
even to go to the bathroom. You sit me on the floor and force me to 
orally service you. It excites me terribly, but my cock can't get free 
from the plaster confinement. You climax, and to reward me, you paint my 
body sheath with flesh-colored paint and spank me because now I look 
naked.

    That night, you smuggle me out of the hospital. You take me to an 
exclusive women's club where everyone laughs at my silly helplessness. 
They put wigs and makeup on me and dress me up like a doll. I must stay 
there, you say, as a plaything for all the women, and.... 

     There was more, pages and pages of it, but that was enough. Harold 
Belt certainly could imagine some elaborate predicaments! Then, I 
remembered where I was and how I was with a start. Talk about some other 
guy's dreams, here I was looking totally feminine, bare assed and bare 
breasted in broad daylight, my male organs hid by a pussy-wig. And in 
this vulnerable state, I was holding onto letters that were worth a 
Million, with a cunning Dominatrix after them!

    But I had prepared for this, I reminded myself. From my towel, I 
took a large pre-paid mailer, already addressed to Harold Belt. I sealed 
the letters in it and headed straight for the Camp Store and Post 
Office. 

    But once there, I had a problem. 

    "Mac's already taken out the Mail for the day, Miss," The naked man 
behind the counter told me. "It's Ten-Thirty now, and the Mail Truck 
gets to the post box around Eleven. But if you Just leave your package 
in the bin over there, it'll be okay." 

    Sure, I thought. This was probably the second place Carla would 
check. She'd have little trouble filching the envelope from that open 
bin. Then, an idea hit me. Without a word, I raced out of the store. 

    As quickly as I could, I trotted toward the main gate. If anyone 
thought it odd, seeing this naked blonde woman in high heeled sneakers 
running around with a rolled up towel under one arm and a bulky envelope 
under the other, no one said anything. If only I could reach the gate 
and get Mac to take the package down the half-mile to the post box, I 
thought, I'd be safe. 

    But Mac was not there, and the gate was locked securely in his 
absence. Out to lunch or on an errand, I thought. What rotten timing. 
There was a phone by the gate, so I could call an attendant, but I knew 
that by the time anyone got there, the Mail truck would have been long 
gone. 

    What I did next may sound foolish, but I was desperate. I couldn't 
afford to have Carla find me with the letters, and there was no place I 
could hide them. I had to get them out to the Mail Box - and right away. 

    Summoning up all my courage, I looked about and saw a good spot 
where I could climb the Twelve-foot chain-link fence that surrounded the 
camp. There was a tree with some low-hanging branches just above the 
barbed-wire top that I could use to help me over. Taking advantage of a 
narrow gap near the gate, I passed my towel and the envelope through to 
the outside then put on my white latex bathing cap to keep my hair from 
becoming tangled in the branches. 

    And I climbed over the fence. 

    It was easier than I'd expected, since the fence was designed to 
keep people out of the camp, not in. There were plenty of footholds and 
the limbs of the tree outside were springy enough for me to swing easily 
down to the ground on them. Once safely down, I picked up the towel and 
envelope and ran down the trail toward the Mail box. 

    As I ran, I felt suddenly fearful. I was outside the protection of 
the Camp now, nude and feminized. What if somebody saw me? I remembered 
that the road where the Post Box stood was rather well-traveled. Oh, 
heavens, I thought, what if somebody catches me this way? I had visions 
of amorous truckers pulling me into their rigs and carrying me miles 
away from my trailer and clothes. It would be horrible to be abandoned 
this way, looking like a woman, wearing only bathing cap and sneakers, 
at some sleazy truck stop, motel or road house. 

    But the road was mercifully deserted when I reached the post box. I 
quickly inserted the envelope, wondering if the Mail Truck had passed 
yet. My answer came seconds later as I heard it rumbling up the road 
toward me. I quickly ducked back into the bushes and watched as the 
driver picked up the mail and sped off. 

    Well that was taken care of. I breathed a sigh of relief. Now to get 
back to my trailer, my own body and my clothes. Might as well leave 
tonight, I thought. 

    It was not to be so easy, however. Back at the fence, I discovered 
that my earlier observation was truer than I'd thought. That fence was 
designed to keep people out. There was no way I could climb back in near 
the gate. I thought about using the call-phone to summon someone from 
the office, but then I reflected. They'd want to know what I was doing 
outside. They'd want to check my name to make sure I was a member. Even 
if I wanted to reveal my true sex, they'd never believe that I was 
actually Clinton Crayle, their wealthy male guest.

    No, I was going to have to sneak back in. Some way. 

    Fearfully, I began walking along the fence line, looking for a good 
spot to climb. All my anxieties came back now, stronger than ever. What 
if some hunters saw me? Or hikers? I heard once about a young 
schoolteacher who was caught skinny-dipping by a troop of Girl Scouts 
who forced her to accompany them on their hike. They took her miles into 
the woods, away from her clothes, and forced her to act as their nude 
slave for the entire two-day camp-out. How horrid it would be for me, a 
man, to get caught like that and be trapped in this feminine body. 

    After walking the perimeter of the fence for what seemed like hours, 
however, I finally found a suitable tree growing close to the fence. I 
knotted my towel into a large ball and tossed it over. Then, with a 
little difficulty, I made it up the tree and over the fence. Inside at 
last! 

    By now, I was quite a ways from the main part of the camp but I felt 
much safer as I strolled through the woods. Not so worried about being 
caught. It was kind of a trip, really, to be transformed so completely 
that I could pass as a woman, totally naked, in front of everybody. 

    I was so taken with this strange sense of unreality that when I 
reached the main part of Camp, I decided to prolong it just a bit. I was 
sweaty and dirty from my efforts, and after all, I might as well take 
advantage of this while I could. So I went back to the Women's Showers. 

    This proved to be even more delightful, for the showers were quite 
crowded now. All around me, slippery female bodies lathered themselves 
up and rinsed off. I tossed my shoes into the trash, since I wouldn't be 
needing them again, put on my bathing cap and joined in.

    What an experience, to be surrounded by all that femininity. Inside 
my pussy-wig, I could feel my cock tingling. My breasts grew firm as my 
nipples stiffened with arousal. Finally, I had to turn the water on very 
cold just to keep my composure.

    After I dried off, I realized that I probably wouldn't be needing my 
shower cap or towel again either, so I chucked them in the trash, too, 
and headed back toward my trailer barefoot, wearing only my key chain. 

    That last stroll was really something. I flushed with the success of 
a mission accomplished. My long hair felt good on my bare shoulders, and 
my pert breasts jiggled delightfully. A cool breeze wafted across my 
bare bottom and the grass felt good between my toes Nonetheless, I was 
looking forward to freeing my male organs once more and putting on 
clothes again. I rounded the corner to my parking area, lot Thirteen. 

     My trailer was gone. 
     Someone had simply driven off with it. 
     Leaving me stuck here. 
     Like this.

     I nearly swooned in shock, staring at the bare ground where my 
Camper had been. Suddenly, I wanted to throw my hands over my nakedness 
and run for cover. It seemed worse every second I thought about it. I 
couldn't report the theft to the Camp Director, because I couldn't prove 
that I was a registered guest here. Not without the solvent for removing 
the disguise over my genitals. Or some cream to remove my makeup. Or a 
mirror to help me get my wig off. Or a baggy sweater to cover my... my 
breasts!     

     Everything I needed was in that stolen trailer. I had no money, no 
clothes, no place to stay and no one to call for help. I was stuck here, 
unable to leave or to make myself look one bit less feminine. Stuck in 
this Nudist Camp and in this nude female disguise. 

     I knew immediately, of course, that it was Carla's work. Once she'd 
found that the letters were missing from her hiding-place, she had 
probably come immediately to my trailer. She couldn't have known when 
I'd taken them, of course, but a quick check with Mac would reveal that 
I hadn't left the Camp. At that point, the next step must have seemed 
perfectly logical to her in a deliciously cruel way. She'd know that the 
letters were either with me or in the trailer. So she could cover both 
possibilities with a single bold stroke - steal the camper. If the 
letters were hidden there, she'd have them. If I still had them, then 
stealing my camper would effectively prevent me from leaving with them. 
Either way, she had me. 

    I wandered about the Camp for over an hour, trying to look natural 
and composed while my mind was in an uproar. What to do? Then, the idea 
hit me. It seemed risky, but worth it. The one person who could get me 
back my clothes was the one who had stolen them. And it to me that, with 
a little bit of luck, manage to pull off a very tall bluff, holding no 
cards at all. 

    Mind made up, I headed for Carla's trailer.

    The voice that answered my knock was Carla's, coming from within her 
trailer. 

    "Come in. It's unlocked."

    Taking a deep breath, I entered the trailer. It was very similar to 
mine, in a different color scheme. Carla, dressed in the black gown she 
had worn a few evenings ago, was at a portable desk, her back to me. As 
I entered, she calmly turned, then stopped suddenly, her eyes widening.       

    "Who are...? I was expecting... Wait a minute!" She rose and walked 
over to me, staring intently at my feminized body. Then she simply broke 
up laughing

   "Oh, ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Uh-hee!" 

    I blushed beet red from head to toe as she took in my appearance. 

    "So that's how you did it. My, how charming! This is even better 
than I'd thought! Ah-ha-ha! Are these real?" She ran her hands over my 
breasts, then tweaked the nipples. My wince of embarassed arousal set 
her eyes gleaming. 

    "You certainly went to a lot of trouble, Mr. Crayle," She smiled, 
"Or is it Miss Crayle now? Whatever did you do with your mannish organs? 
I must say this is a distinct improvement." 

    "Very funny," I fumed, "Shall we get down to business?" 

    "Certainly, my Dear," Carla said with false sweetness, "Whatever did 
you want?" 

    "You have something of mine," I said. 

    "You're wrong," Carla replied, " I have everything of yours, 
including, now that I look at you, your true gender and identity." 

    "Give them back!" I snapped. 

    "Why, whatever should I do that for?" Carla's voice sounded like she 
was talking to a little girl. "It's only a question of time before I 
find the letters in your trailer. And you look so sweet like this. You 
could make a great career as a stripper," she giggled, "If you had 
anything to take off." 

    "You may be right about the letters being in my trailer," I half-
lied, "But you could search it for years and never find them." That much 
was true anyway. "You need my help as much as I need yours."

    "Are you suggesting a trade, Little Lady?" Carla could tell that her 
constant references to my feminized state rankled me, and it delighted 
her. 

    "That's right," I swallowed my anger and went on, "The letters in 
exchange for my trailer and clothes. I've put more than enough work into 
this job already, and Harold Belt isn't paying enough for me to become a 
full-time woman. Just take me to the trailer, I'll give you the letters 
and we can both go our separate ways." 

    Carla considered. 

    "I guess it would save some time," She reflected. 

    "I can promise you that," I insisted, "Without me, you'll never get 
those letters." 

    There was a bit more haggling, but before long Carla was driving her 
mobile trailer out of Sunny Acres, with me crouched on the floor beside 
the passenger seat. I had to hide there, because Carla had adamantly 
refused to give me any clothes. Just as well, I thought. When we got to 
my Camper, I'd want plenty of freedom to move. As you've probably 
guessed, I planned to overpower Carla when we got there and simply take 
back my trailer. I figured that I could use the element of surprise to 
my advantage. Meanwhile, I sat with my bare rump on the cold floor, 
knees drawn up to my breasts, hugging my smooth legs as we rode down the 
highway and I tried to pump Carla for information. 

    "What about Art and Roger?" I asked, "The two ..er.. guys in the 
trailer next to mine. Are they in on this with you?" 

    "In a way," Carla said, "They're both clients of mine who had some 
interesting bisexual fantasies. I got them to come here for an extended 
get-acquainted session and they both just love it. Of course, they're 
also good friends of mine, so they were happy to keep an eye on your 
comings and goings for me." 

    "Sounds like you're pretty well-organized," I said, brushing a stray 
lock of hair back over my bare shoulder. 

    "I call it 'meshing'", Carla explained, "I try to find clients whose 
fantasies can be blended with those of other clients. I pair the sadists 
with the masochists, the submissives and dominants, the gays, even the 
readers and the writers. I used to type up Harold Belt's fantasies -with 
minor changes, of course, and send them to a dominant husband and wife 
team in Connecticutt. They just loved them, and they can hardly wait to 
meet Harold in person." 

    "Meet Harold?" This was news to me. "How are you going to arrange 
that?" 

    "Didn't he tell you?" Carla asked casually, "That's what I was 
working on when Harold chickened out. So I moved up to Sunny Acres and 
told Harold that he could either come up and get his letters back 
himself or else send me a Million Dollars to ease my hurt feelings. I 
figured once I had him up here, naked and cut off from his money, his 
natural masochism would make him bend to my will," She smiled down at 
me. "I never dreamed that he'd find such a shameless Little Lady to come 
and get them." 

    Through my embarassment, I tried to digest this new bit of 
information. Belt had told me only half the truth. Carla Dare, it 
seemed, was more interested in his body than in his money. 

    That changed things, but only a little. True, I was no longer 
dealing with a purely mercenary female, but now I could see Carla for 
what she really was, a woman for whom Domination was all-important. She 
had gone to great lengths just to force her will upon Harold Belt. I 
shuddered to think what she might do to me if she found out I had foiled 
her. 

    "We're here." Her voice broke in on my thoughts as she parked the 
Camper. 

    "Is it safe for me to come out?" I asked, rising timidly to my feet. 

    "Sure," Carla nonchalantly went to the door. I followed, shivering. 

    Outside, I could see that we were in a rather heavily-wooded area, 
and my trailer was fairly well concealed among some trees. Carla and I 
walked toward it. Here, at last, was my chance.

    Moving swiftly as we walked, I grabbed Carla's ankle and pulled 
hard. she went down fast, with a surprised grunt. But I was long gone by 
the time she hit the ground, running naked through the grass to the 
safety of my trailer, breasts jiggling wildly. I reached it in seconds, 
flung the door open and jumped inside. 

     Into the waiting arms of Art and Roger. 

    "Hey! Who's this?" Roger said, grabbing my arms, twisting them 
behind me. I kicked and he twisted harder, until I yelped with pain. 

    "Steady, Girl." Art cautioned, grabbing one of my kicking feet. 
"Where's Carla? Quit kicking or I'll break your toe." 

    "I'm right here," Carla stood in the doorway, scarcely mussed by her 
tumble. "Hold on to her, Roger," She said calmly. "Art, you tie her 
feet." 

    Art quickly lashed my feet together with a necktie. He and Roger 
were both fully dressed, and I felt terribly embarassed at being handled 
by them this way. I felt so vulnerable in so many ways. As a naked 
person among people who dressed, as a female at the mercy of two strong 
men, and as a Straight Male being pawed by Gays. Their hands seemed to 
be all over me as I writhed in their grip. 

    Deftly, Carla tied a necktie around my neck, then, with the help of 
the men, twisted my arms up behind me and tied my wrists in the loose 
ends. 

    "Recognize her, Fellows?" Carla asked the two men when I was bound 
helplessly. "It's Clinton Crayle, the Private Dick. He made up like a 
woman to steal the letters from me, and now she can't get back to 
Malehood."

    Art and Roger looked at me with increased interest and amusement 
now, and I felt more ashamed than ever as I lay naked before them on the 
floor, breasts jutting out because of my bound arms, my tied ankles 
emphasizing my curvaceous legs and ass. 

    Carla knealt down on the floor, looming over me menacingly. 

    "Let's have those letters, Girlie." 

    "Untie me", I wailed. 

    She tweaked one of my nipples, pinching until I moaned. 

    "The letters," She urged, purring.

    "N-never"!

    "All right." She stood up, "Spank her, Roger!"

    "Delighted, Miss Carla."

    The black man sat on a wooden chair and hauled me across his lap. 
His hand stroked gently across my invitingly upturned bottom, and I 
wriggled in my bondage as his thumb darted mischievously between the 
cheeks. 

    "How many, Madame?" He asked. 

    "Just keep going until she starts talking. If you get tired, Art can 
relieve you. Then I'll relieve him. Sooner or later, this wouldbe Bitch 
will tell us where the letters are. And I hope it's later". 

    I have no idea how long it was. The stinging blows began raining 
across my ass like fire. I screamed, I bucked, I cried, all to no avail. 
Finally, 

    "I'll talk!", I sobbed, "I'll tell!, I'll tell!, I'll tell!"! 

    "That's my Sweet Girl." 

    Roger dropped me onto my red, burning ass and stood over me, smiling 
contemptuously down at my nude, feminized body.

    "Well?" Carla sneered. 

    "I m-mailed them", I sobbed, trying to stop my flowing tears. 

    "That's a lie!" Carla snapped, "Work her over again, Roger!" 

    "No! It's true!" I cried. Quickly, I explained to them how I had 
done it. They listened, skeptically at first, then with more interest. 
Carla pumped me for details, about how my feminine transformation had 
been worked, how long it would last, how I had gotten the letter out and 
my self back in. At last, they seemed satisfied. 

   "Well guys, looks like I'm going to have to find some other way of 
getting to Harold Melt. This little Cutie -" Carla nudged me with her 
high heeled foot. "- is sharper than I thought!" 

    "Will- will you let me loose now?" I asked. 

    "Hmmm," Carla smiled down at me. "Are you sure you want me to do 
that, Little One?" 

    "Wh-what do you mean?" I asked. 

    "We made a deal to swap the letters for your Camper and clothes, 
remember? Well you can't deliver your part, so I'm certainly not giving 
you anything. I'll arrange to have your Camper returned to the Rental 
Agency. And I think I'll make a present of your clothes to that Charity 
Drive down the road, since you obviously can't use them." 

    "But - but what will I do?" I trembled fearfully. 

    "You have two choices. You can come with me, or you can go with Art 
and Roger. You said your breasts will stay swelled up like that for two 
or three months, and I can find plenty of uses for a feminized slave. If 
you'll agree to serve me in every way and obey me implicitly, I'll take 
you with me, and when your breasts shrink back to normal, I'll give you 
back your male clothes and accessories. I think that's a good deal." 

    "Better than you'll get from us," Art said, "Roger here's an 
attorney and I'm an accountant. We'd probably set up some kind of 
closet-sized office where you'd have to act as our secretary, chained 
naked to a desk." 

    "We'd teach you typing and short-hand," Roger went on, "by rewarding 
your good work with lots of loving and kisses and punishing your 
mistakes with spankings and - other things." 

    "But I don't know if we'd ever let you go," Art finished, "Even 
after your breasts shrink, you'd still have that lovely, shaved body." 

    With such persuasion, it didn't take me long to make up my mind.

    Two months later...

    I tugged at the hem of my short satin Maid's Uniform in a vain 
attempt to get the bottom of the skirt to meet the tops of my black silk 
stockings. My breasts still threatened to spill out of the low-cut 
strapless bodice, but I thought they were getting a little smaller. I 
adjusted my apron and my cute little cap and minced in my eight-inch 
heels out to the living room, where Carla waited.

    "Everything is ready for the party, Ma'am," I smiled and curtsied as 
I had been taught to do. "I've cleaned and polished the bathrooms, 
dusted and vacuumed elsewhere, and arranged the lights and chairs." 

    "Very good, Fifi," Carla said, lounging on the sofa, her figure 
stunningly revealed in a black leather bikini, complete with matching 
boots and gloves. A dark leather hood masked her upper face. 

    "These Costume Parties can be a lot of work," She went on, "Is your 
own costume ready?" 

    "Yes Ma'am," I blushed, lowering my eyes. "Underneath this dress, 
I'm wearing pasties and a G-string and...and...." 

    "And?" Carla prompted. 

    "And the - the other thing you ordered, Ma'am. The tiny vibrator is 
in - in place and you have the remote control switch. When you give the 
signal, I'll go into my act as - as a Stripper!" When Carla made a joke, 
she never forgot it.

    Hours later, the Gala was in full swing. Most of the guests were 
masked, but I knew some of them. There was the couple from Connecutt, 
who brought Harold Belt, totally encased in flesh-colored plaster except 
for his face, breasts and ass. Their female hormone treatment had 
already developed his breasts to the size of my own, if not larger, and 
with his wig and makeup, he was a perfect image of a life-sized Barbi 
doll. He owed me a lot of money, but I didn't think he'd ever be able to 
pay me. Not as long as his captors held him prisoner, anyway, and rumor 
had it they were planning on a loig-term relationship. I didn't really 
care about the money any more. All I could think of was being returned 
to Manhood in a few more weeks. 

    Meanwhile, more guests ar ived. There were Art and Roger, dressed as 
Siamese Twins joined at a very interesting place, and a whole host of 
other revealers in various stages of disguise. I served drinks and hors 
d'oervres to them all, my bare bottom peeking out from beneath my short 
skirt with every step I took. 

    One woman, dressed in a leather outfit with a hood that completely 
covered her features, seemed quite interested in me. 

    "You really enjoy this, don't you Fifi?" She asked. 

    I saw Carla looking on with interest, so I smiled and replied, "Yes 
Ma'am. Very much", I curtsied. 

    "Don't you get awfully horney, I mean with your male organs tucked 
away where you can't get at them to bring yourself off?" 

    "I get very horney, Ma'am," I replied, still smiling, "And my 
Mistress uses it to torment me. She says that being frustrated all the 
time makes me a much more attentive lover, both for her and- and her 
friends". Just a few more weeks, I thought. 

    "She's probably right, and you seem none worse for it. Very well, 
Fifi, I want you to put your delicate hands over your sexy eyes and 
don't take them down - no matter what -until I tell you to". 

    I knew better than to disobey a command from any of Carla's friends. 
I curtsied and covered my eyes dutifully. Unseeing, I felt the mystery 
woman ower the top of my dress. 

    And felt a sharp pain, first under one breast, then the other. 

    "Ooo! oh - M-Mistress!" I squeaked. 

    "Keep those hands up," The woman warned. "There! All finished. You 
can look now, Fifi." 

    I looked. I thought I would find myself wearing some kind of torture 
bra, such as Harold had to wear occaisionally, but I saw to my surprise 
that my breasts were still perfectly bare, except for the pasties. 

    The pain was subsiding, and now I felt a strange throbbing tingle in 
my chest. I looked up at the woman in confusion and saw that she was 
putting a hypodermic needle back into her shoulder bag. 

    "Wh-what did you do, Ma'am?" I asked fear

    "Well, since you seem to be enjoying yourself as a feminized slave 
so much," She pulled back her hood fully, revealing a familiar face. "I 
thought I'd prolong it for you at no extra charge. After all," Evelyn 
Traynor smiled, "You're getting to be a steady customer". 

    "M-miss Traynor"! I gasped in shock, "You mean you...?" 

    "That's right, Darling," She said pleasantly, livery soon now, your 
breasts will swell up to really impressive proportions and stay that way 
for about six months."

    Suddenly, I heard Carla's voice behind me. 

    "How delightful!" She said brightly, "You've given Fifi a whole new 
lease on her life here with me and my friends." She turned to me and 
commanded,  "Thank Evelyn, Fifi." 

    "But I-I-Ieeee!"  My protest was cut off as Carla activated the 
vibrator in my ass.

    "Thank Evelyn, Fifi!" She said, more forcefully. 

    "Th-thank you M-miss Traynor," I curtsied obediently. Only then did 
Carla turn off the vibrator. 

    "Very good," She said, "Now go into your act.

    Knowing better than to disobey, I scampered over to the small 
platform that served as a stage and beSan dancing, Shedding my uniform 
in time to the music. Hat, gloves, apron, and 
finally my dress. I undulated there, in heels, hose, pasties and G-
string as the crowd applauded my curvaceous figure. Where would this all 
end, I wondered? 

    By the time my dance had ended, I had been forced by the shouting 
onlookers to remove absolutely all of my clothing. With nothing to wear, 
I had to return to my Maid's duties completely naked, enduring the 
taunts, pinches and lewd caresses of the amused party-goers. Carla 
finally permitted me to take a break, and I all but collapsed on my 
small cot in her bedroom. 

    As I rested, too weak to move, I got the answer to my question. 
Carla came into the room with the couple from Connecticutt. 

    "Just relax, Fifi," Carla said merrily, "We're only going to put a 
little bondage on you." I submitted meekly as Carla continued talking. 

    "A little elbow-bondage, behind your back, like so. And now I'll 
just tie your wrists to the ends of this belt passed in front of you... 
There! Your arms now blend perfectly into that slender waist." She 
turned to the man. "You want to take over now, Gene?" 

    "Certainly." Gene put somethin into a bucket of water. "And when I'm 
through, you'll see that anyone can be turned into a sexy Barbi doll, 
just like Harold." 

    Horrified, I felt the wet plaster bandage curling around my legs to 
the tops of my thighs, locking my knees straight, arching my bare feet 
down so that I could only walk on tiptoe. Gene's wife Irma smoothed the 
plaster as Gene wrapped the bandages around my waist, working up to my 
shoulders, hiding all trace of my arms but leaving my bare breasts and 
ass exposed. 

    "While this dries, we'll get the flesh colored latex paint and the 
false arms," Irma explained to Carla, "And a bathing cap, so that we can 
plaster her head, too. Then a fashion wig and some lovely accessories. 
When we have Fifi and Barbi pose together for us, you won't be able to 
tell them apart."

    "Hmmm," Carla mused, "But if they look that much alike, how will we 
know which one to send home with you and which one to keep here?" 

    "What difference does that make?" Gene asked, "As long as there's 
one for each of us?" 

    "How true." Carla approached my now-rigid form. As I started to 
plead with her, she casually popped a ball-gag into my mouth. 

    "Well, Fifi," She smiled, "Looks like you've got a fifty-fifty 
chance of ever returning to Manhood again. You'll either become Gene and 
Irma's sex toy, or stay here and serve me for another six months. My, 
don't you make a sexy doll, though. Well," She kissed me lightly on the 
cheek and stroked my breast before turning away, "Good luck, Lover." 

    As she walked away, Gene and Irma returned with more bandages, 
paint, and other"accessories" I had to stand there, helplessly looking 
in a mirror, as they "dolled" me up, painting my face, wigging me, 
adding rouge to my breasts and bottom. Clipping the false mannikin arms 
to my shoulders. 

    "Won't Fifi and Barbi look delightful performing together?" Gene 
mused. 

    "Yes, and look!" Irma beamed, "She cries real tears"' 

The End.

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