The "Coming Out" Party

Randall was a had always enjoyed the thought of himself in women's clothing, but not until recently had be begun to live out his fantasies. He had gone to the store, and bought a few dresses, and business suits, claiming they were gifts for his wife (he was a closet TV for over a year). He was a small man, anyway, being 5'8" and weighing about 145. He wore a size 10 in women's shoes, and over the last year his collection of shoes women's shoes had grown rather intense. His favorite part of cross-dressing was wearing pantyhose or stockings and sexy shoes. Tonight he and his boyfriend, Raul, were going to a company party.

Randall and Raul had been working together for five years, now, and once Randall found out that Raul was also gay, it wasn't long before he had revealed his secret. Raul was thrilled about it, and they had started going out together. Randall enjoyed being able to go out of the house, dressed like a woman. He felt that it was a great load off of his mind, no longer being in the closet. Half of the time, the men didn't realize that he was a man.

This party would be Randall's coming out at work. He was worried what his colleagues would think, but he no longer cared who knew. If he it went over well, he hoped that he could start wearing dresses and business suits to work, too. It was a long shot, but maybe.

First, he had to concentrate on getting ready. First, off he got into the shower, and washed and rinsed his body and hair. His least favorite part of being a "wo-MAN" was shaving his underarms. If he didn't do it just right, it would leave an ugly, itchy razor-burn. And when that happened, he had to wear sleeves, and when he wore sleeves, the material almost always aggravated the razor-burn. Basically, if you got razor-burn on your underarms, you were screwed. Shaving his chest and stomach weren't so bad, though, because the hair was thin, and he didn't have to do it as often (it wasn't as thick, and grew much slower). Raul shaved Randall's back once a week. Randall wasn't cursed with thick back hair, but he did have some.

Randall had gotten better at shaving his underarms, but he still hated it. He couldn't stroke too slow, because it would feel like he was pulling the hairs out, rather than cutting them. He couldn't pull too fast, because it was real easy to get razor-burn that way. He had developed a rhythm and speed, and usually the only time that he got razor-burn, now, was when he slipped. He was still extra careful. He found that it was best for him to shave downward, because the hair seemed to grow upward. If he went against the grain, his armpits were sometimes so smooth, that it sent shivers down his spine just to touch them. He had dragged his finger across his left armpit, one time, after he had gotten it smooth. He laughed out loud, because it tickled so much. That he knew, was smooth, because a person is normally not capable of tickling themselves, especially on the armpits. After he finished shaving his armpits, he got out of the shower, and after drying off, he put some Gillette After Shave Gel on his underarms. He had found that gel was much more soothing, and also left them feeling slick, and the way it felt when his arms swished so slickly, like that, made him horny.

He went to his room, and began rummaging through his closet. If there was one thing he liked about his apartment, it was his closet. It was big enough to put a table and chairs in. He had plenty of room for two wardrobes and tons of shoes. He had pumps in over twenty different colors, and twelve pairs of boots. His collection of shoes ran to a total of 65 pairs, including men's shoes. He made good money from his job as a computer programmer, and so lots of extra spending money.

He pulled out a red sleeveless, strapless dress, that he had worn only once before, but had never been seen in public in. He had ordered it out of a Newport News magazine. It accented every curve of his feminine figure, and so after putting on a specially made bra (that was intended to "make mountains out of mole-hills"), he pulled the dress on. He put on a pair of jet-black, nylon panty-hose, and was rather pleased with what he saw in the mirror.

He went back to the bathroom, and dried his hair, teasing it and adding lots of hair spray, to acquire the look that he preferred. It was almost reminiscent of the "big-hair" movement, but conservative enough not to draw too much attention. Everyone thought that he had let his hair grow out as a sign of mid-life crisis. Oh, if they only knew. But, they will tonight, he thought to himself.

The only thing that really worried him was that Brent was sure to be there. Brent was the "man's man" in the office, who had always called him a "sissy-girl", because he had long hair. Randall didn't mind the "sissy-girl" part so much, because it was partly true. Brent's attitude and demeanor, however, had driven Randall to almost pure, unrelenting hatred for the man. He had two or three friends who worked under him, and they followed him around laughing at everything he said, and basically kissing his ass every chance they got.

Randall had made up his mind, though. He was going through with it. Everyone was going to know that he enjoyed being a she-male. Everyone was going to know that he preferred to be called "Brandy". He hoped to turn the heads of a few men, tonight as well. He wanted to make the strait guys see what they were missing. (note: From this point on, Randall will be referred to as "Brandy", unless he is being spoken to or of, by another character who doesn't accept the idea of calling him "Brandy".)

Brandy finished with his hair, and went back into his room. He decided that he didn't need anymore red, so he went with a thin, silky black scarf, which he wound around his neck, tied, and threw the two loose ends over his left shoulder. The dress was rather short, so he decided that pumps would make his legs look too long, so he went with a pair of long-strap, high-heeled black sandals. He put them on, and the straps were long enough to wrap around his leg three times, as he wound them up his calves, so that they crosses in X's in the front and back.

Raul had already arrived, and let himself in. He was sitting in the living room, when Brandy came out. Brandy was also carrying a black suede purse, and wearing black suede gloves. Raul did a double-take, and had to use both hands to hold his jaw up. He had never seen Brandy looking this good. He was certain, at this point, that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with Brandy. Brandy was truly a great looking man, and dressed up like this, Raul didn't see how any other man could resist him, either. Raul wasn't looking to shabby, either. He had on a black Armani suit, with a dark blue, silk shirt, and a black silk tie. He wore bright dark blue socks, and a pair of black wing-tips, made by Drexler.

They left for the party, riding in Raul's 69' Corvette. Raul was the most "man's man" of a gay person that Brandy had ever met. He had rebuilt his 69' Vette all by himself, and was an avid sports fan, as well as a great golfer. He could fix almost anything, and Brandy felt certain that Raul was a good fighter as well. He had never seen Raul raise a fist at anything, but his 6'3", 220 pound frame, would have been hard to put down in a fight. Raul was solid, every inch of him covered with hard, muscle, and hands that were strong enough to squeeze a tennis ball until it popped, but gentle enough to carry Brandy to bed, and put him to sleep, when he fell asleep early.

Upon arrival, no one recognized Brandy. He even greeted a few people, and caught broken pieces of conversation about Raul's new girlfriend. Brandy wasn't worried, as soon as someone asked his name, his secret would be out in the open. He didn't have to.

He felt a tap on his shoulder, and turned around. It was Brent.

"Oh, my God," Brent said, "It's you. Hey guys, check Randy out."

About that time, three more of Brent's "ass-kissers", Clayton, Roderick, and Yancey came over laughing.

"Check out the girlie-man," Yancey taunted.

By then, everyone had turned, and caught on to what was going on. The room filled oohs and ahhs. Some people laughed, some just smiled. Some stared in disbelief, and a one guy hollered over the crowd, "You go girl."

Brandy had never felt so embarrassed in his life. He knew that he had to endure, though, or they would never respect him or his decision.

"What's a matter, Brent?" Raul asked. "Does he make you horny?"

"Fuck you," Brent said. "I always thought there was something funny about you two, but nothing prepared me for this. What do it call you, man? Randette? Randalina?"

"Brandy," Brandy said, with confidence.

"Brandy, huh? Well, listen, Brandy, you're luck I'm not gonna kick you're ass right here, right now. I figure it took a lot of guts for you to come in here looking like that. But, you can guarantee that before the night is through, you'll hear from me again."

With that Brent walked off. After that, the night wasn't so bad. Some people told him that they strongly disagreed with his lifestyle, but they didn't hassle him. A few people even liked the change, including Ralph, from shipping who came up and said, "Hey man, how's about giving my wife a few pointers on what to wear to make a man hard?"

Brandy had a great time, for the remainder of the party, which included a dee-jay, who seemed to play all of Brandy's favorite songs. He got to dance with Raul several times, and Raul was an incredible dancer. Brandy decided that night, that there probably wasn't anything that Raul wasn't good at. He was one of those multi-talented Hispanics-Americans from Nicaragua, who could do just about anything he put his mind to.

As they were leaving the party, and they were among the last to leave, Brandy saw Brent, Clayton, Roderick, and Yancey walk out behind them. There was no one else in the parking lot, and Brandy began to worry. The four men quickly caught up with them, and before Brandy knew what was happening, they had jumped Raul, and knocked him out. They then grabbed knocked Brandy on the head with a large stick, knocking him unconscious. When he awoke, he was in the locked in the back of a Bronco. He recognized the location, though, it was the place where he worked. It was a large building, mostly devoted to the production and shipping area, but it also had a small office section.

He tried to open the back door, but there was a spare tire on the back, and he would not be able to get it open. There was a glass screen between where he was and the rest of the Bronco. He cried out for help, but there was no one to hear him.

Then he saw Brent and the ass-kissers coming out the back door of the building. They came over to the Bronco, and opened up the back, where Brandy was. Brandy started trying to fight them, but Brent quickly ended his defense.

"You'll do whatever we want, if you want to Raul to live."

"What did you do to him?"

"Nothing, yet," Roderick said. "Do as we say, and nothing will happen to him."

"What do you want?" Brandy gave up.

"Come this way," Brent directed him into the building, where Raul was hog-tied, hanging from the ceiling by a hoist.

"You bring him down, right now," Brandy demanded.

"Not until we're finished with you, little girl," Brett retorted.

He began looking Brandy up and down.

"What possesses a man to do this to himself, Brandy?" Brett asked with amusement in his eyes.

"Some people just feel more feminine than others." It was a weak answer, but Brandy couldn't really explain why he did it.

"Come over here," Brent said, and let Brandy over to a lever. "Turn around."

Brandy turned around so that his back was up against the steel pole.

"Put your hands up over your head," Brett demanded.


"Just do it."

Brandy put his hands over his head, and Brett pulled some ropes out of his pocked, and tied Brandy's hands to the arm of the lever.

"Oh, that's really gonna hold my arms up." Brandy mocked him.

"Oh, it will alright," Brett said, with a devil's smile. "That lever controls the release on the hoist that hold's your 'precious' Raul suspended 35 feet up in the air. I'm going to have a little fun, and if you pull your arms down, Raul's gonna fall 35 feet, face first into this concrete floor."

Brandy gulped and became extremely nervous.

"What are you going to do to me?"

"Oh, I don't know, little girl," Brent smiled, "I'm just not sure yet."

At that point, because of Brandy's arms being raised, Brett noticed his smoothly shaven armpits.

"Wow, you really did go all out, didn't you, sweetie?" Brett marveled at the armpits.

He ran the fingers across the smooth underarms, and Brandy let out a squeal, and almost pulled the lever, but he remembered in time.

"Whoa, how about that, boys? He's ticklish." Brett moved his wiggling fingers in menacingly close, causing Brandy to wince at the thought of what would happen if all ten of those fingers hit his extremely sensitive, insanely ticklish armpits.

"Please, don't do that. There's no way I'll be able to hold my arms up."

"Well see about that, missy. Cutchie, cutchie, coo."

He began lightly dragging his fingers up and down Brandy's horribly ticklish armpits.


It was torture of the worst kind. Brandy couldn't struggle at all, because to do so might cause him to pull the lever and send Raul plummeting. It took every ounce of strength Brandy had to keep from pulling his arms down to protect his armpits. By now, he was laughing loudly and uncontrollably, but there was nothing he could do to defend himself. Any movement might cause him to pull that lever, and it was one of those levers where only the slightest pull would result Raul's release.

"Aaaaaaahaaaaaahaaaaaahaaaaaaahaaaaaaaa. Staaaahaaaaahaaaaahaaahop."

Raul hung suspended and watching as Brent tortured his helpless boyfriend. Meanwhile, Roderick, Yancey, and Clayton had cleaned off one of the transport carts, that had steel railing at both ends. Brett saw this and smiled.

Brett lowered Raul down, and told the guys to put him in the AC room.

When they returned from putting Raul away, he untied Brandy, and the four of them man-handled Brandy, one taking each arm and leg, and carried him over to the cart. They tied his hands, one to each side of the railing at the head of the cart. They then removed his shoes and tied his feet, one to each side of the railing at the foot of the cart.

They also stuffed a rag into Brandy's mouth, so that they wouldn't have to listen to his screams. They each took a spot. Brett and Clayton each hovered over his armpits, while Roderick and Yancey sat one at each foot. Brandy's eyes grew wide with terror. He had always been ticklish on his feet, and the nylons would only make that worse.

They all jumped in, tickling heavily in their respective places. Brandy surged against the ropes, but he was tied too well. Forty fingers teased at his helpless armpits and stockinged soles, and he screamed with every force he could summon, but it was all held back by the gag.

They tickled Brandy for hours into the night, and then with the threat of more tickling, made him promise that he and Raul would never mention this to anyone. And they never did. Brandy started wearing his women's clothes to work, but Brent no longer teased him. Brent had actually enjoyed tickling Brandy, and even asked Brandy out a few times. Brandy's heart belonged to Raul, though, so Brent had to settle with being friends. He did, however, take every opportunity he could, to tickle Brandy in even the smallest situations.