Rose's Dolly Pt. 04

This story contains persistent themes of nonconsensual, reluctant sex, including blackmail, and public groping. Proceed with caution.

*

Dylan stood in the mirror studying himself. God, he looked slutty. Rose had him in this weird little sleeveless black leather thing that covered almost nothing... he thought it was maybe called a "tube top"? Exposed shoulders, exposed upper chest, exposed tummy, no straps of any kind, basically just a tight band of leather around a small section of his torso, basically covering an inch and a half on either side of his nipples. For a bottom, a pair of truly miniscule hot pink booty shorts, uncomfortably tight against his skin and, he noticed, a built-in ass crease down the middle. Bright pink lipstick, glittery purple eyeshadow, big thick wingtip eyeliner, rouge on his cheeks. And he was going to have to go out like this?

Rose sidled up behind him, rubbing her hands all over his shoulders, arms, upper chest. "Hmmm, you look great right now Dolly."

"Kay." He took a moment to study her. Same deep red lipstick as usual, tiny black leather skirt and a deep blue crop top paired with deep blue eyeshadow. She looked incredibly hot, as always. He tried not to notice that.

She kissed him on the cheek, which made his cock shift in his booty shorts a little. "So do you shave your body or do you just naturally have, like, no body hair?"

"It's there, it's just, you know... blond," he protested.

"Hmm, well it's super hard to see, I'll tell you that," she said, greedily running his hands down his waist to rest on his hips. "Hmmm, you were made to be a little sissy slut, you know that?"

"Stop it."

"You're lucky you met me, you really are. You deserve someone who can bring out your... potential." She wrapped her arms tight around his body, pressed herself close against his back. He was pretty sure he could feel her cock grinding into him. "God, you know I look at you right now and I just want to devour you, consume you, gobble you right up." A couple quick kisses on the side of his neck.

"Then why don't you?" he said sulkily.

"Hnngg, does that sound good to you sweetie?" Kiss, "Me consuming your flesh?" Kiss, "Me ripping your little body to shreds with my teeth and swallowing you down?"

Why the hell did that make his dick move a little? "I mean I'd almost rather that happen than be seen by people like this," he grumbled.

"Hmm, well tough. I want people to see you, want them to see my handiwork. I want everyone out there salivating over you showing off your skinny little body. But they don't get to have you. Cause you're mine you little bitch."

He shook his head, "I don't think anyone out there is gonna be salivating over me like this."

"Wanna bet?" she said with an eager look in her eye.

"With you? Absolutely not, wouldn't be worth losing. But, I don't know, people are just gonna look at this and see some degenerate freak shit." He glanced at her balefully. "Which it is."

"Yeah yeah." She rolled her eyes and started walking toward her closet. "Hey, what shoe size are you?"

"Uh, eight," he said, then added, "Men's. Obviously."

She snorted, "It's not that obvious right now, sweetheart." After a bit of looking around, she pulled a shoe box out of the bottom of the closet. "Here, try these on!"

Black stiletto heels, open at the top to expose pretty much the entire foot minus a network of criss-crossing straps to hold the foot in. Dylan needed Rose's help to get the damn things on.

"Ooh yeah, those really complete the look baby," she said. "Walk around in them a little, see how they feel."

How they felt was hideously uncomfortable. And he felt ridiculous, it was difficult to balance while wearing them. He made a few awkward passes back and forth across the room, when suddenly he heard Rose say, in a deep tone that he supposed was a parody of a man's voice, "Hey there baby," followed by a sharp smack on the ass. This caused him to lose his balance; his arms flailed in circles for a moment to try and stabilize, but he fell forward right on his face. Rose laughed her ass off at that.

"Don't DO that," Dylan said angrily, rolling over onto his back.

Rose just shrugged. "Make me stop." A lightbulb seemed to go on in her head. "Hey, stay right there," she said eagerly, and ran back to her makeup table.

Dylan wanted no part in whatever she was doing, he was scrambling to get up, but the heels screwed him up, made him fall back down. Shortly after that Rose dashed over, a little pink bottle in her hands and a cruel grin on her face. She sat herself down right on his chest.

"Oof!" Fuck, she was heavy.

"Heh, like being in this position, don't you Dolly?" Rose asked, rubbing her crotch on his chest.

He ignored that, he was squinting, trying to read the bottle. "Nail lacquer, huh?"

She nodded enthusiastically. "Now, give me your right hand." He shook his head at that. She frowned. "It's either, I paint your fingernails or I break your fingers. And then paint your fingernails." She grinned smugly at him. "C'mon sweetheart, it's pink and sparkly, you'll love it. Give me your hand."

And Dylan scowled bitterly at her, but he still gave her his hand.

"Hmm, good girl," she said as she got to work painting.

"Stop saying that." He tried not to waste his breath anymore on objecting to her calling him a girl, but sometimes he just couldn't help himself.

As she finished his first hand and started on his left hand, she said, "Hmm, I wonder what percent of boys would actually make me break their fingers before I painted them. Probably a majority, don't you think? You always raise such a fuss about everything Dolly, but you give in so easily. I think you probably like being girlified, really."

Dylan rolled his eyes. "Most boys are all talk. Besides, I know resisting wouldn't get me anything. I'm a pragmatist, not gonna get myself harmed over nothing."

"So then," Rose said, "what was the pragmatic reason behind you fucking around with my roommates?"

"Like I said," Dylan said crossly, "I was trying to find a way out of our arrangement."

"Yeah yeah," Rose said, "I think you were just craving more futa cock. I think you needed to get fucked again and I wasn't around, so..."

"That's not true," Dylan grumbled, "I don't like taking cock."

"Well, you sure cum a lot from it," Rose shot back. "Just, don't screw around with any other futas from now on, okay? You're mine."

"I don't wanna screw around with any futas..."

"Ah," she said, and she stroked the side of his face, "then it sounds like the best move for you is to keep making me happy, yeah? God, you know you're the exact type of boy futanari girls go for. So slender, so pretty..."

"Stop it."

"And so if you don't want a bunch of dickgirls trying to use you for the rest of your life, your best move, pragmatically speaking, is to let me have you. Let me protect you. Let me mark you as mine. Permanently"

He peered at her nervously. "How would you do that?"

She leaned in and bit his nose. "You'll see, one of these days. Your nails are all done, there's just one thing left I wanted to do... Let's get you up," and at last she got off his chest, stuck a hand out to help pull him to his feet. She then dashed back over to the closet and came back with a long blonde wig, which she placed on his head.

She clasped her hands together. "You're a masterpiece, you know that?"

"Okay," he mumbled.

She wheeled him around to look at himself in the mirror. God, with his short hair, despite everything he looked relatively butch for a sissy, but now with the long wig and pink nails he looked comprehensively girly.

Rose leaned down next to him to grin into the mirror. "Would you fuck you?" she asked him. "I'd fuck you."

He just rolled his eyes. (But, he thought, he probably would fuck a girl who looked like he did currently).

"Alright, let's head out," Rose said, and she led him down the stairs by his hand. This probably prevented him from falling down on the stairs due to the heels, but he still resented it, made him feel so powerless.

When they walked out onto the main level of the house Ganza let out a loud wolf whistle. "Damn, you make a good sissy dude!"

Despite himself, Dylan blushed at that.

"Rose, you're not really gonna parade him in front of us looking like that and not let us have him, right?" Iris added.

"Yeah, I really am," she shot back, opening the door. "Anyway, byeeee."

By now it was dark out. "Fuck, it's cold," Dylan grumbled, rubbing his bare shoulders to try and warm them. "Any chance I can get a coat?"

"Nah," Rose said, "just walk to the club faster, things will heat up there."

Dylan started shuffling forward a little faster, but there was only so fast he could go in the heels. "God, I really don't wanna be seen like this. Just, like, dreading the prospect of running into someone I know."

"Well, it's Wednesday, isn't it? Probably things will be a lot less crowded. Anyway, if someone teases you, I can kick their ass if you want." She grinned over at him.

He rolled his eyes. "Thanks, I guess. Just don't want to get, like, a reputation for being a transvestite faggot or something."

"Well, probably they'll just think you're a pretty girl. I did a good job, you know."

"If you say so."

Soon enough they were walking into The Brickhouse. Dylan had never been in here on a Wednesday, it was in fact pretty dead. Still, he sort of pulled some strands of his wig hair in front of his face, and slouched forward, hoping this would prevent him being recognized.

As they walked up to the bar the bartender said, "What can I get you ladies?"

Rose nudged him with her elbow, "What'd I tell ya?" and then, to the bartender, "Give us each a rum and coke!"

As they stood there sipping their drinks near the bar, Rose said into Dylan's ear, "I hope you realize you're going to have to dance with me tonight."

Dylan tensed. "Not sure how much dancing I'll be able to do with these fucking heels."

"Pft, amateur," Rose said with a smirk. "Don't worry, I won't let you fall on your face." She downed the rest of her glass. "C'mon, I'm bored, get out on the floor with me," she said, and grabbed his hand and tugged him toward the dance floor.

After all she'd done to him, Dylan hated that he still found her attractive, but right now, watching her twist and gyrate to the music, God he couldn't help himself, she was breathtaking. After a while of just standing there watching her she looked up at him and said, "Hey, don't just stand there, dance for me!" He started awkwardly shuffling back and forth in his heels, sort of vaguely waving his hands around. She rolled her eyes at this. "Get over here," she said, and grabbed him, spun him around so his backside was pressed against her. Right into his ear she said, "Twerk on me, okay?"

"I don't know how to twerk," he protested.

"Well, just, like, shake your ass against me to the beat," she insisted. "C'mon, do it."

And so, awkwardly at first, he started rubbing his butt on Rose. And as it went on, he found himself getting more into it, grinding his hips more, shaking his butt back and forth, up and down. Rose, for her part, seemed to be loving it, grinding enthusiastically against him. Soon enough he could feel her hard cock against him.

Soon enough, he could feel his own starting to get harder. This threw him out of the moment a little, filled him with doubt and a sense of shame, embarrassment.

"Hey, why'd you stop?" Rose asked, irritated edge in her voice, but before he could respond some burly bearded guy sidled up and grabbed Dylan's hand.

"Hey, mind if I borrow your friend?" he said to Rose, smug grin on his face. Ooh, that made Dylan uncomfortable, he wanted this fucker to leave him alone, but he didn't want to say anything because he knew the guy would be able to tell he was a man from his voice.

Rose just stuck her hand in his face and shoved him away. "Fuck off, can't you see we're dancing?" Then, running a hand down the side of Dylan's body, "Well, we're dancing aren't we? So dance!"

And somehow, in that moment he was grateful enough to Rose for removing the dude that he was able to throw himself into dancing on her again. Soon they were both lost in the music, the rhythm, the motion against each other's bodies all over again.

At some point he found himself being dragged off the dance floor to the hallway to the bathroom, Rose forcing his back up against the wall, pressing herself against him, kissing him hard, deep, and despite everything, somehow the intensity of the moment had him kissing her back, hands running over her body, giving himself to her passion.

"You," she breathed, pulling away from his face, "have been driving me crazy out there, you know?"

He couldn't think of any better response than, "Is that so?"

"Oh yeah," and she ground her crotch against him. "You can feel how hard I am right?"

"Yeah," he said, resigned to the sensation, (resigned to the fact that he kind of liked it).

"Hmmnngg, what if I took you back out there and fucked you in the ass right on the dance floor, huh? How would you feel about that?"

He just sighed. "Please don't."

"Why not?" and she went in for another kiss. "Worried everyone would wanna join in?" Kiss, "You should be," kiss, "you look so fucking good, so fucking tasty right now, I bet everyone out there is barely restraining themselves from grabbing you and having their way with you. If I started fucking you out there it'd be a frenzy, everyone lining up for their turn with the slutty sissy."

He rolled his eyes at this. "More like we'd just get kicked out."

"Wanna bet?" she said eagerly.

"No."

"Fine." She pulled herself off of him. "Hey, let's get some more alcohol.'

She ordered them each a rum and coke and, shortly after they received the drinks, he heard her squeal, "DANA! How have you been, sweetheart?"

And suddenly she was gone, and he was alone in this bar. He sipped on his drink. He was catching a lot of looks, that was for sure, he wasn't sure if they were interested in him or disgusted. In this skimpy little outfit, he felt so... exposed. He lurked along the edge of the bar, near the wall, trying not to meet anyone's eye, until a voice cut through the crowd:

"Haven't we met somewhere before baby?"

Dylan spun his head around. It was Clay, one of his frat brothers. Nope, absolutely not, he could not be seen like this. He turned his face away, stared at his drink.

"Aw, c'mon baby, I just wanted to talk about where I know you from." He put a hand on Dylan's shoulder, Dylan jerked his shoulder away and started walking. Clay didn't like this, it seemed, because he grabbed Dylan more roughly, wrapping one arm around Dylan's exposed waist and the other clutching his hair. He pressed himself tightly against Dylan's backside, Dylan could feel his hardness. To Dylan's horror, he could feel his own cock move at the sensation.

"Hmm, you're not leaving much to the imagination you know," he murmured, running his hand down from the waist to grab at Dylan's ass in the pink booty shorts, "what do I gotta do to see the rest of you, huh?"

"Get off me," growled Dylan.

Clay jolted away from Dylan. "What the fuck dude?" Mix of shock and anger. Well, Dylan's voice was still undeniably masculine. Clay grabbed his shoulder and spun his body around to examine his face, squinting angrily at him for a few moments before his eyes lit up with recognition.

"Dylan? What the- AH!"

Rose had materialized behind Clay, hooking an arm around his neck. "Hey cutie, I see you've met my friend Dolly. We're actually a package deal, trying to find a guy to have a threesome with tonight. Would that be you?"

"Argh, get the hell off me," Clay said, struggling uselessly against Rose's grip. "What the fuck, are you a man too?"

Rose growled at that and pushed his body up against the nearest wall. "Do I look like a man to you, dipshit? Do I sound like one, huh?"

And of course she didn't, but Dylan was quite certain from the way she was pressing her crotch into Clay that he could feel her hardness against him. In any case he had a stricken look on his face, mouth seemed to be groping for words. "I... I..."

"I was trying to have a nice time with you, you know that, but I think what you need is to be taught a lesson," Rose said, angry edge in her voice.

"Rose," Dylan moved in, tugging on her arm, "I know this guy from the frat, you don't wanna mess around with him," he struggled for a lie, "he's got herpes."

"Eurgh," Rose took her hands off him, "alright, I'll leave you alone, just don't call me a man again or I'll break your legs." She disappeared into the crowd again.

Once she was gone Clay turned to Dylan, "Hey fuck you, I don't have herpes."

"Yeah, I was saving you, dumbass," Dylan shot back.

"Fuck you, I didn't need saving from you faggot."

"No yeah, you looked like it," Dylan said, "Like you were totally in control and definitely not shitting your pants."

Clay just glared at him. "See you 'round, Dolly," he said snidely, and he was gone too.

Dylan looked around. Well, maybe he could make his way toward the exit...

"Dollyyyyyyy!" Rose's hand fell heavily on his shoulder. "Hey sweetie, you wanna get a lot drunker? I'm buying, all night." Before Dylan could say anything, she had grabbed both his shoulders and was guiding him toward the bar.

And four shots of whisky later, he was rambling, confiding all his anxieties to Rose of all people. "Clay fuckinnng knew it was me though man," he said, "He kneww and wasnn't happy about it." He hiccupped. "He didn't appreciate what I did for him there, you know? I got you to leave him alone, I helped. He's just maaad because he thought I was a cute girl." Another hiccup. "He's mad at me, he's the one he should be mad at."

Rose shook her head sympathetically. "Boys can be so mean to us dickgirls, huh Dolly?"

Dylan held up a finger at her, "I am nnnot a dickgirl, stop it."

Rose grinned at him. "Oops. Easy mistake to make right now."

God, Dylan hated himself for it, but right now, her smiling at him, his head full of liquor, she looked like maybe the hottest girl ever. She put an arm around his shoulder and before he could stop himself he let out a happy little, "Mmm," noise. He shook his head, can't let himself do that, nope, nope. But... his head was feeling heavy and her shoulder was right there. No harm in letting it rest there a little while...

"Hey there baby," she said into his ear. He grinned at that for a few moments, then got sad.

"Everyone's gonna knowww though," he started. "Ever- the whole frat, all the guys. Probably Kim too. Clay's gonna tell." The thought was unbearable.

"Hmm, and would that be so bad?" Rose asked, rubbing his shoulder. "Like fuck 'em, you know? Fuck their judgment, walk into the frat house in a little miniskirt, shake your ass in their faces. Doesn't that sound fun?"

"No," he mumbled, "no I don't wanna be like this."

"Well," she kissed him on the forehead, "you look great like this, you really do."

"Whatever." But it did something to him to hear her say that. He felt tired and incredibly groggy, but he looked at the strands of wig hair running down the side of his face and neck, his own body in the slutty little outfit, knowing that he had Rose's lust, knowing he looked, well, kind of hot like this, it felt, well, nice.

"Hey," she said, rubbing his shoulder, "will you be sweet tonight and let me fuck you without putting up a fight?"

He sighed. In spite of himself, he felt very close to Rose right now, leaning all over her, having confided in her, never mind the awful fear that no one else would want anything to do with him come tomorrow. And, fuck it, he knew letting her use him would probably mean an orgasm, but... He still wasn't drunk enough to trust her. "Will you be sweet and not hurt me on purpose?" he asked.