Your "friends"

You stop in shock as you find a collection of your cruelest bullies hanging out in your livingroom. Slade, the headquarter back who made your school life hell since kindergarten, wearing his letter jacket and a smug smirk as usual. Becca, his girlfriend, head cheerleader, and your unrequited crush, wearing her cheerleader uniform as if anyone would ever forget she's a cheerleader. Similarly eight of Slade's football cronies are standing around drinking your Daddy's liquor and in full uniform. You are stunned speechless, not sure if this is a living nightmare or a waking wet dream.

"Oh look, bros, the guest of honor is here. Your dad went through your yearbook and looked us up on facebook. He said you are a some kind of sissy faggot that gets off on humiliation. I was all, I could have told you that, brah." Laughter fills the room, you can feel it reverberating between your ears. Before everything was a twisted little fantasy that you took maybe just a teensy bit too far. Now being branded a sissy faggot humiliation junkie is your new reality...

"So since we were planning on having a costume party tonight anyway, he said we could have it here and drink all we want and order as much food as we want on his platinum card. He even offered to let us make this our crash pad all week. He said he'll just take it out of your college fund since sissy fags don't need to go to school."

Just like that your future was ripped from under you. You were a smart kid. You had a future ahead of you. Hell, with enough money, you would have at least landed a wife that would pretend your cock was "average sized" and you could have pretended to be a man. Now your only chance to make a living will be limited to kept sissy pet at best, and street walking sissy whore at worst...at least you hope that's the worst...

"So the party isn't for another few hours, and me and my crew would love a snack to go with these drinks. You look good enough to eat right up. Are you going to be a good hostess and serve your guests? Or would you rather do the whole 'oh know please don't **** me, I'm just a straight boy in a dress' thing you closet faggots love?"

You can't believe the nerve of Slade. And just because your tiny clit is achingly hard in your rubber skirt and the anal beads are making your sissy cunt hungry for more than a snack, doesn't mean you want to give this asshole the satisfaction of admitting he's been right all these years. Still, is there anything left to admit? Isn't your outfit and the fact you skipped downstairs hoping to find a group of gropy gentlemen ready to fuck you all the proof he needs?