The Making of Meaghan Ch. 03

CHAPTER 3: Time to Think

I packed my bags and headed out the door, catching the Greyhound bus to my sisters at 10 am. I felt sad, confused and depressed watching the miles tick by on Interstate 29 and 90.

How the fuck did this happen to me? I haven't had the best of luck getting girlfriends or getting the sex I've always craved and now I feel like I've been tricked and abused like a whore by some fucking guy that I thought was my friend. I could still taste him in my mouth and my jaw ached. I had to put it all out of my mind and get away from this fucking town.

My visit with my sister was a relief. As the youngest of three boys and an oldest sister, we were very close. She always stood up for me when my older brothers were laying a beating on me, which seemed to be often when I was a kid. They were always so much bigger than I am, wrestling me to the ground and grinding my face into the dirt.

My dad was away a lot when I was a kid. He didn't seem to have much time for us and let us run amok. My mum was always cold and distant, like this whole business of raising kids was something she just had to survive to make it through life. I don't know what she was waiting for on the other side, cause I'm pretty sure there wasn't something better than the love we could have given her, but she'll never know now, or us. I'm fairly certain if she'd been born today, in the age of the pill and more options for women to support themselves, she would never have married my dad or had us kids.

My sister, on the other hand, was the divine intervention. Somebody had to be the mom, cause it's an important role in the family I'm told, and damn if she didn't step up to the plate and knock it out of the fucking park. It is deeply puzzling to me that people like my sister do all the heavy lifting in life, like she is doing with her own family, and get none of the credit. It's like we intentionally shine no light on the real saviors that keep our families and communities together, but are more than happy to hand over the mike to some fucking blowhard and his band of charlatans. Fortunately, my sis doesn't give a shit about credit, there are more important things to do, like raising kids.

I don't remember getting a lot of love and affection as a child, but I had a soft spot for my oldest sister, that's for sure; she was tough as nails, but a sweetheart inside. I knew it and loved her for it, even though we never really talked about it. We all understood that no emotionally authentic conversations were allowed in our family. Pulling out an M16 and wasting the family would have been marginally more acceptable I'm sure; kinda par for America these days, or so I'm told, although I don't fucking believe that either.

I enjoyed spending time with Sarah and the kids. We hung out, played pond hockey, went for some nice long walks. I didn't used to appreciate kids, but now I have all the time in the world for their innocence and yearning; it's as precious as an ice frost in February. Fresh from the abuse from Dave, I somehow felt that much more tender towards them, like I suddenly understood what it is to be truly vulnerable, which all children are. I would die to protect them.

In between the family time though, when I was alone in my room, I was as mess. It's like my psyche was crumbling. Did I deserve this? Did I do something wrong to end up in this predicament? Was Dave right, and somehow I actually wanted this abuse?

I had never had a tonne of luck with chicks, I'll admit. It was frustrating that most girls I was interested in seemed to want to be my friend more than a girlfriend. They seemed way more interested in being with jock assholes than nice guys like me. I remember my first fuck, with Anna. I was desperately trying to show what a sweet, articulate thoughtful guy I was, just to get in her panties of course. I eventually got there, but it wasn't pretty, and I won't bore you with the details. Fast forward a few years, and now I get it that I would have been far better to play it cool, been a bit of a jock asshole (assuming I could pull that off of course) and waited for her to come to me.

It's almost like there is an energetic or pheromone conversation going on below the surface that is way more powerful than the one we are actually having on the surface. I shifted uncomfortably, realizing that maybe Dave had this more figured out than I do. Maybe I'm just not "manly" enough, and it's apparent to others like Dave, in ways I didn't realize. Maybe I was projecting my availability to be dominated at an energetic level, like I was wearing a sign that said, "Abuse me and make me suck your dick" and everyone - or at least some people like Dave - could see it plain as day.

I didn't really want to admit it, even to myself, but there were times when I did sneak into my mother's or my oldest sister's bedrooms and try on her clothes, and wonder what it would be like to be a girl. Did that make me gay? Did trying on their clothes when I was 12 doom me to sucking Dave's cock at 25? Was that die cast a long time ago? Did other guys do that, or are most other guys just straight and narrow; only interested in being a man, and doing manly shit, marrying their high school sweethearts, and spending the rest of their lives fussing with fucking power tools in the garage. I wish it was that simple for me sometimes.

A couple of nights at my sisters, I woke up from a nightmare, dreaming of gagging on Dave's cock, cum streaming down my face. I had to put a stop to this when I confronted him. This was going in a very bad direction.

My pulse was racing and my stomach felt sick when I let myself back into Dave's bungalow. I hadn't seen him for 3 weeks, and the more time that passed, the more the whole events of a few of weeks ago seemed like a nightmare that never really happened. I would confront him when he got home from work. There was no way I was going to put up with this anymore.

I downed a couple of beers from the fridge to steel my courage. I was stressed too. I got a threatening letter from PrimeOne Credit that my car would be re-possessed if I didn't make my overdue payments and I was down to the wire in my bank account. I literally jumped when I heard him open the front door. I stood frozen to the spot as I heard him kick off his shoes, drop his tool bag and hang his coat.

"Hey Brian, you're back. How was your sisters?" How could he possibly sound so matter of fact.

"It was good to get away and have a break, to sort myself out," I said.

"I'm sure it was," he replied, cracking a beer from the fridge.

"Listen Dave, we need to talk. I can't be treated like that. It's just not on. I'm not gay, and I can't believe what I did, but you made me do it, and I am real angry about it."

He leaned over me uncomfortably, "You probably practiced that little speech at your sisters, didn't you?"

I didn't want to admit that I had.

"I'll bet you've replayed in your mind what happened that night didn't you? Made you kinda sick and all confused didn't it? Made you question your own sexuality and whether you had this coming, didn't it?"

My throat was dry and I didn't answer. This wasn't going according to plan.

"Listen, you can protest if you want, but the plain and simple fact is you kneeled in front of me dressed as a girl and sucked my dick and ate my cum three weeks ago. And if I may say so, you were a real trooper. You could have found ways out of it. You could have spit me out, but no you took my whole meat and swallowed my load."

"If you really didn't want to do that, you would never have found yourself in this position. Lots of girls regret when they suck dick the first time, but you know what, it's what they were meant to do, and deep down, they know it, and that's why they act so weird but keep coming back. And you did too. It takes work to become a real woman."

I snapped, "I'm not your fucking girlfriend, here to cook, clean and service you whenever you want, you disgusting fucking pig! Why don't you go get yourself a girlfriend for Christ's sake. Or if you're gay, why don't you just own up to it and get a boyfriend. Fuck, there are lots of gay guys out there that would be happy to suck your dick. You didn't need to fuck up a friend and abuse me you fucking asshole!"

"That was a good effort, I appreciate that Brian. But let me just tell you something. I've had plenty of girls, trust me. Some have been real kinky and fun, that's for sure. But here's the kicker: you are going to be so much better than a girlfriend, the best kind of girlfriend actually Sure, chicks are great with their hot little bodies, and if you're lucky they will suck you dick for a while, but it never lasts. They'll go along with your fantasies to land your sorry ass, but they are all hardwired the same in the end. What they really want to do is settle down, have kids or not, get you to support them, and pretty soon they have you on a short leash, with just a little bit of sex now and then to keep you on the hook, or maybe not at all once you've been together 10 years and are up to your eyeballs in kids and mortgage debt, all of which is wrapped up in this ridiculously complicated package that is just more fucking work than it's worth. No wonder so many guys cheat on their wives or things fall apart when the kids come along and you spend more time with your dentist than having sex."

"And besides, women are like sculpted butter at 20, beautiful and smooth and irresistible. But when they hit 30, it's like they've been taken out of the fridge and turned into a melted blob of fat as the clock keeps ticking."

"Jesus, you're a cynical fuck. I'd be surprised if any normal chick would want to be with you anyway."

"Precisely. For me it's real simple. I just want something pretty to look at that gives me a good suck and a fuck when I want it. It's not much to ask, and that's where you come in."

"And as for gay guys, I am just not into guys. Hairy, smelly beasts for the most part, or effeminate little wimps. What is the attraction in either? Now that may sound funny, given what I did to you, but guys just don't do anything for me. I am into chicks' hot bodies and sexy clothes - and frankly, I don't see you as a guy. More like a hybrid; a work in progress, someone who just needs some strong guidance to find their way to being the hot and ready girlfriend you are meant to be."

Dave took a slug from his drink, working himself up now. "Truth is, you are destined to be my girlfriend, you just haven't figured it out yet. I spotted you a long time ago. Cute little body, tight little ass, full lips and mouth. I saw you standing next to Rebecca once and thought, damn, you are a candidate for sure: fit, intelligent, energetic, Interesting guy, someone whose company I can actually enjoy. And the best part is I knew you would be spunky and put up a fight. Who wants to haul in a pike like an old boot when they can have a small mouth bass like you, flying out of the water as soon as the hook sets. Now that is sport fishing!"

"Let's face it, with some proper grooming and training, and ridding yourself of your hangups, we can have you looking and acting as hot as any chick I know, better in fact, because you're a guy with a guy's sex drive, and it's just a matter of channeling that insatiable, uncomplicated male sexual appetite in the right direction, if you know what I mean, into servicing me, when and how I want, as often as I want, with dirty, kinky sex."

"It's pretty simple really; definitely not fucking rocket science. And trust me, you're not going to go dry like a girlfriend or wife; in fact, by the time I'm finished with you, you'll be dripping all the time and won't be able to get enough."

'Oh, and one more thing." He was on a roll now.

"The more you resist, the hotter it is for me. It's like breaking a really good thoroughbred horse. It's a lot of work in the beginning, but the rewards will be worth it in the end. So if you want to push back, have at er buddy, I'm game; in fact, the more the merrier. I'll break your sorry ass one way or the other."

My head was exploding. "Fuck you Dave, this is insane, you are one sick mother fucker, you know that? I am out of here!"

I slammed down my beer, heading for the door.

"Not so fast sister." Dave lunged out and grabbed my wrist.

I tried to resist, but he is so much bigger than me.

"Don't do this Dave. Not again," I pleaded.

"Oh I won't have to make you do this; you'll do it for yourself. You see, I took some pictures last time. Really quite artful close ups of your face with my dick buried up to my nuts. Even a few action shots of my cum spraying all over your cute face. I've got them posted on google pics already, I am just trying to figure who I should send an invite too. How about Bill, Jerry and Mark from the finishing shop? Or hey - better yet, how about a mass post to the hockey team on Facebook? That would cause a stir. Who knows, you'd probably get a whole bunch of new followers and a ton of likes. You'd probably have a bunch of our buddies pounding on the door looking for a quick blow. Open that mouth, and you would have a lot more friends than you thought you had."

"Oh I know, how about your sister, what is her name again?"

I took a swing at his face with my right fist, but before I could reach him, he'd grabbed my arm and twisted it behind my back and had me pinned to the kitchen floor.

"What's it going to be?" he said menacingly.

"Are you going to be honest with yourself and do as you are told, or I can let you go and hit send on those pics just as the door slams behind you. It's your call."

He kept me pinned to the ground for several seconds. I felt a sharp pain in my elbow. "Ok. Ok..." He let go of me, and I slumped to the floor, Dave towering over me.

"It doesn't have to be this way. You can embrace it rather than fight it, and you'll be so much happier, but I get that's going to take some time. For now, just head upstairs. I've laid out some clothes for you. And get dinner underway, I'm hungry and horny, but we can deal with that later."

I got to my feet and made my way upstairs, rubbing my wrists. How did this go so wrong? How could he do that to me? My life would be devastated if those pictures go out; it would be over. There is no where I could go in the world that those images wouldn't follow me. What if my sister saw them?

Rebecca's clothes were laid out on the bed: a short red satin dress with a halter sash, a matching pair of red lace panties and lace bra, black sheer nylons, a silver braided necklace, and clip-on earrings laid neatly to the side. There were delicate strappy high heels next to the bed, probably 4 inches at least. I wouldn't be able to move in those...maybe that was the idea. My heart sank. Fucker.

"Oh, one more thing," I heard Dave yell from downstairs. "Have a shower and give yourself a fresh shave...all over, and put on some of that nice perfume I got you."

It was all I could to do not to be sick, my stomach was churning. I stepped into the shower, lathering my legs and ass, and shaving myself all over, careful to get every crease and corner. I applied moisturizer all over which helped to reduce the sting. I took a deep breath and stepped out of the shower. Dave was standing there.

"Here is a stiff drink, you'll need it," he said with a smirk.

"I hadn't noticed how small your dick is before, make sense though," he chuckled as he left. "Make sure to tuck all that away like you did last time."

After the shower and shave, I pushed my balls up into my body and taped my cock back like I had learned to do, then pulled the red lace panties up over me, and then the matching red lace bra. I glanced at myself in the mirror, noticing the way the boxer panties cleverly framed my ass cheeks. Everything about women's clothes is so damn sexual, no wonder men don't have a chance.

Just then Dave stepped back into the bedroom, more drinks in hand, and I jumped.

"Here, have another shot," Dave said, "you look great."

I should have known better, but I eagerly took the double gin and tonic and tossed it back. Self-consciously, I pulled on the black pantyhose and slipped the red satin dress over my head, Dave watching intently. He appeared behind me suddenly, and closed the zipper to the top of my dress and did the clasp. I shivered involuntarily; there was something very intimate and vulnerable about that gesture, like I would never be able to take off this dress without his help.

Dave reached out and casually stroked my ass, from the back of my thigh up to my waist. The sheer of the dress and feel of his hand against my panties and nylons made me shiver and I could feel my erection pushing against the binding tape, causing my mind to reel and my skin to flush.

We went downstairs, and I prepared dinner again. We watched a movie; me seated at his feet like last time, as he insisted.

"I'm going to bed soon, I've got an early day tomorrow. Why don't you help me relax a little bit, if you know what I mean," he said, spreading his legs.

"Dave, please, you're not going to make me do that again, surely to god."

"I'm not going to make you do anything babe. You want to do this. It's more for your pleasure than mine, right? Stop resisting for heaven's sake."

I knew where this was headed, and tried to get up, but between the alcohol and the 4 inch heels I began to trip. Dave grabbed me, pulling both my hands behind me again, like last time, the familiar sound of the clasps locking onto my hands.

'Jesus, Dave, not again. don't...please."

He pushed me down in front of him, kneeling, then reached down to lift up my dress, and slapped me hard on the ass.

"You are making this hard on yourself. Why do you do that? You came back to me didn't you? You got dressed again, even sexier, more provocative clothes than last time. Why would you do that if you didn't want this? What am I supposed to think? Oh, this chick doesn't want my dick? No - you are here because you want to be here."

With that he pulled my dress up again and slapped me even harder as I yelped.

My mind spun with the alcohol and my growing confusion. Maybe I did want to be here. Maybe he is right, and I haven't tried hard enough to get away. Maybe this was my my doing, my own fault? I could have stayed at my sisters. Am I just meant to be repeating this whole nightmare? Was I always meant to do this?

Dave tilted my chin and brought another gin and tonic to my lips.

"If you really don't want this, I can let you go and you can deal with your picture being on the internet, but if you are in doubt, why not have another drink and think about it for a second?"

I couldn't resist, and started to swallow the G&T hungrily, drowning a double straight.

'That a girl," Dave said.

"Now let me look at that pretty face," he said, as he undid the belt buckle on this jeans and dropped them to the floor. His swollen cock was bulging to one side inside his black boxers.

"Ya know, one of the things guys just don't get is they don't see their face as a sex object the way women do. Women spend a fortune making their lips and eyes and skin look as enticing as possible. Most would never admit it, I know, maybe even to themselves, but deep down they know every guy wants to fuck their face and they are marketing that: 'Here it is; if you bring enough to the table i just might...' Guys just don't get that. They don't see their faces as sex objects in the same way women do...but you really should."

"I think we should work on your face a bit. It's quite feminine already, but I think we need to help things along a bit. Perhaps growing your hair out and having some highlights to give you that dirty blond look." He slid his fingers over my forehead and into my hair as he hooked the waistband over his cock and slid his pants off.