Of course, as a man, you must uphold your bets

You touch the feminine wear. The fabric is so subtle to the touch. You face Trey, your babysitter for the next two weeks. The man who will presumably spread your upcoming wardrobe out for you. He smiles at you encouraging this crossdressing wager. He sits on the couch with his big black cock dangling over the cushion. His hand digs something from the arm's resting place. You didn't even know the coach had those.

He snatches a recording camera from the hidden chair spot. You see a red light flashing to indicate the camera is rolling. Trey films you with an eclectic immorality smile. You try to man up in this bizarre situation. This is day one, you wonder what would happen on day fourteen when your family came home.

Trey said. "Come on now Shayna. Don't make your new daddy come over there, and put the clothes on you. I might get a little handsy."

You hate that he called you Shayna. You are Shane. A strong, not, brave, more cowardly, and outspoken, better at following other people's leads guys. You are a dude, not some frilly cross-dressing fetish maniac. You finish undressing the remaining of your boy clothes. Your slender, smoother than most men your age, nerdy frame is on full display for your daddy director.

He films as you confiscate the tiny white g string and cotton bra. You look over your shoulder at the black man recording your descent this fuck up the path. You place one leg through the white g string than the other. The tiny scarcely fabric skids up your smooth legs. The white pouch covers your little cock up nicely. The string expanding between your milky white cheeks.

"Damn princess. That little number looks so great on you." Trey said staring over his project with starvation and thirst in his eyes.

You stare at how the g string front frocks so easily around your manhood. No bulge poking through, many emotions of inadequacy, the guilt of lacking in having a large cock department to fulfill a lover's needs, and embarrassment of another man filming you putting on these feminine items. You lift the petite white cotton bra, staring at the hooks that would snap and hold up your no breasts. You struggle to try to settle the bra on your nerdy chest. Your inexperience with female bras causes you to go reddish in the face.

Trey laughs as he initiates to walk over to you. "Man, I forgot you've never been with a woman before. This bra presumably feels like rocket science to you." He touches your slender arm with his dark palm, moving the cotton around your chest and then hooking the bra into the right position like a man with a great percentage in this deed. "Mmm, now you're looking like a teenage slut Shayna." He sat back down resuming his amateur photography.

You clasped your stomach in an unfortunate manner. The cotton fabric hits home, as your body fits so naturally in these feminine clothes. Your hand reaches down, touching the bedazzling pink tube top. You pull the pink female clothing down your arms around your chest. Your entire belly was on exhibition, and if you had breasts, your bottom under boobs would have been flashing.

Trey allow a mumbled grunt through his voice. "Fuck... Your so hot." He's had one hand on his fat mamba baseball bat-size black cock. He stroked gradually with one hand while the additional black fingers sustained the camera steady at the amateur model. "Mmm, you look like one of those damn sexy exotic foreigners from an Icelandic country. That pale skin, mmm, that low body weight, and fuck. I can barely stop..." Trey wanders off his sentence without finalizing his thought.

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