This was not the morning after glow that I was expecting. Whether you’re a dame or a dude this should never ever happen to you. My eyes became accustomed to my surroundings and I soon discovered I was in a cellar of sorts.
I was naked, tied up to a bed and if things couldn’t possibly get worse which of course they did when I spied a pile of whips and other ‘stick em where it hurts’ nasty things.
I’d been drugged for sure by the tribe of Indians stomping their feet in my head.
My first foray into manhood and I had been snaffled by a psycho chick that was into more sadistic stuff than I’d ever seen at the flicks. My stomach grumbled a man sized hunger but I had a feeling it was me that was on the menu.
Well, Ivan Stan it seems, you, that is I, have found myself somewhat in a predicament. Just shows you a fella gotta be careful where he sticks his…
Oh no! … here comes my sweetie and she doesn’t look like she’s caught any humor by that scowl on her face. “Hi ya” I feebly said a tad worried by the largish knife she held and the cross eyed look upon her face. I gulped and wondered if sausages and eggs might be her favorite breakfast meal.
I considered telling her that I’m really a woman trapped in a man’s body but had this inkling that it would only make her more irate . This crazy bitch may not like the idea of a lesbian fling from our outing last night. If you can guess what happened next, I’ll give you my last wish. Somewhere from hidden speakers, Donna Summer’s “Love to Love you Baby’ began to play. Then bugger me, oh umm, preferably not , my nemesis began to coo and be all wet fish like again, repeating her performance from last night.
Oh, I prayed for that oodles of doodle to get happy and play reach for the sky. I had the distinct feeling that if her demands were not met it was a slice and dice casserole for me. I began to write my obit because Mr Shhlong to my dismay was shy and shrinking. I prayed for intervention and guess what? Bless their hearts that knocked so loudly on her front door.
Alone in my dungeon I tugged at the bedposts finding I had this awesome strength, rather handy I thought for getting those tight lids of my new lime marmalade jars. The whole bed it just fell apart, likely it was worn out from abuse, bits and pieces were hitting my head. I found some knickers didn’t care whose they were and cautiously headed up those stairs. What a sight, me this big brawny guy with pink frillies on and scared out of my wits.© K S Hardy 2009
Ivan Stan, a man, that is me but still a woman inside is in a sticky icky situation.
Settle back for a truthful account of what really happened to me.
And here is a little bit more of the gore -Part Four
Here’s some music to get you in the mood…