Monday, January 28, 2013

Goldie Locks and the Three Bears

I'm finding that I enjoy rewriting old stories into a kink-friendly version. I've done Snow White and A Christmas Carol. For today, I did Goldie Locks.

Of course, a Bear in the fetish community is a hair gay man. So that changed a few things.

Even still, I hope you enjoy.


Goldie Locks meets Three Bears

Greg checked his manhood at the door. They took his coat, and the bag where he put his street shoes and his pants. He rolled the leather of his skirt down over his lace panties, slipped into the highest heels he could walk in, and went into the club.

He walked in and felt the music, saw the sweat on the dancers, and smelled the leather. So much leather. Greg pulled his hair out from where he'd tucked it into his shirt and shook it out, running his fingers through the golden tresses, letting them take on the curls that advertised, as if the skirt, stockings, and heels didn't, that Greg was much more comfortable as a woman.

That he had been born to be one.

He got a drink from the bar and walked carefully to the back area. Greg was still living as a man, and didn't have the experience walking in heels that he wished he had. He balanced the drink carefully and walked slowly, letting the heels make his ass sway back and forth. Better to be slow and sexy than quick and stumbling.

There was a bouncer in the back. He wasn't stopping anyone, just explaining what was happening back there. The bouncer smiled at Greg as he sauntered up.

“This is a private party,” he said. “Do you have an invitation?”

Greg smiled warmly. “Is this the meet and greet?” he asked. He reached into a pocket in his blouse, just above the edges of the corset that gave him hints of feminine shape. He pulled out the little piece of paper, the closest he had to any kind of invitation. “Boys and Bears?”

The bouncer smiled and ushered him inside.

It looked like a job fair. There were men sitting in chairs that rested on little platforms about a foot off the floor, with one step leading up. They had clip boards in hand. In front of them were little stools, uncomfortable and lower than a normal chair. Greg was handed his own clip board, and someone explained things to him.

“It's like speed dating,” they said. “You go from Bear to Bear, and you talk to them. You discuss what you want, they tell you what they want, and you see if you're a match. You write down if you want to see them again on your clip board, they do the same for you. When the bell rings, you move on to the next one.” The man handed him a little ID badge with the number 17 on it. “If you like them and they like you, we give you both contact info, and you go from there.”

Greg nodded. Made sense. He smiled and moved to the first of the men in the big chairs.

The first man, the number 1 on the platform under his boots, looked down with a perpetual sneer on his bearded face. He was huge. He looked like he could pick Greg up and snap him like a twig with his bare hands. Thick leather pants covered strong and muscular legs, but did nothing to hide the bulge between them. He wore black leather boots with a silver ring holding straps over the top of the foot and around the heel. Motorcycle boots. He looked like he should be smoking a thick cigar. The vest he wore made his hair chest, his broad, powerful chest, clearly visible. He gestured to the stool, and Greg slid onto it.

“You're a sissy.” He said it without judgment. Just a statement. Greg nodded. “If you convince me to take you, you'll be my little bitch, and I'll be your daddy. I will fuck you within an inch of your life. You will be beaten on a whim, whipped for discipline, and you will serve whoever and however I choose.”

Greg swallowed hard at that, and tried to hide his growing erection. “Um,” he said. “Okay. Are you really into pain, then?”

The man smiled, baring teeth like a wolf. “I like sensation,” he said. “I like making my little bitches cry, and scream, and whimper.”

“And safewords?”

He laughed and leaned back. His voice became softer, more realistic. “Well, yeah. Of course I use safewords. Anyone who doesn't is just insane. We'll have one to tell me to slow down, and another to make me stop. And we'll negotiate and all that. Of course.”

Greg smiled again, let out a breath he wasn't aware he'd been holding. “And what about sissification?”
The man shrugged. When he spoke again, the hardness was back in his voice. “I do approve of you being such a bitch,” he said. “It's good that you know your place, that you're not a man, not really.”

“But no need to go farther?”

The man shook his head. “I may work on beating whatever's left of your manhood out of you. But I'm looking for a bitch. Not a girl.” He leaned forward. “If I wanted a girl, I'd be straight.”

Greg smiled and nodded. The bell rang. “Thank you for your time,” he said. The man waved him away, dismissing him.

Greg wrote a note next to number one: 'too hard.' Then he moved on to number two.

The man with the number 2 had his ID on his chest. He was wearing a t-shirt, his hairy arms visible. He looked strong, but in a normal kind of way. Like he led an active liftestyle. He wore black jeans with leather chaps on over them. But the chaps weren't dirty, weren't scuffed on the sides the way number 1 had been. These were not the leggings of someone who actually rode a motorcycle. They were the costume of a leather fetishist. So were the leather fingerless gloves he wore, and the buckled boots he wore.

“You have beautiful hair,” he said as Greg sat down.

Greg blushed. “Thank you.”

“You make a very pretty girl. Or, at least, it looks like you will.”

That made Greg smile.

“I think I'd like to help with that,” number two said. “Get you into pretty dresses, help you get on hormones. Make you into a real girl. A pretty girl.”

Greg nodded. “And then?”

The man smiled. “A nice pink bedroom, brushes for your hair, dresses and nighties. You could be my little doll, my own personal barbie.” The man shook his head. “I'm not really into anything all that rough. I like sex to be a gentle, joyous experience for both of us.”

“So you want a sissy?”

He nodded. “I don't know why, but I prefer men who are women to anything else. Pretty little princesses that I can spoil, that I can dress up. You'd be wearing perfume, dressing in sweet clothes and being my little girl. As far as anyone else was aware, we'd just be a normal heterosexual couple, once you were ready to live as a woman full time. Is that something you'd like?”

“What?”

“Being a woman full time.”

Greg nodded. Number two smiled. “If things worked out, would you want to go ahead and get the surgery? I'd want you to be a woman as far as anyone else knew. I'd take you to parties, you'd be my wife, my princess.”

Greg smiled when the bell rang. “That sounds very sweet,” he said.

As he walked away, he wrote 'too soft' next to number 2.

He walked right past the next person. He looked a little bit too imperious, a little bit too impressed with himself. Also, Greg overheard him talking about safewords as being something that are only used by those who don't know what they're doing.

Red flag.

Number four locked eyes with him and just shook his head. He smiled, said “sorry, I'm not interested in sissies. Best of luck.”

And so Greg moved on and sat in front of number 5.

This bear wore leather pants that seemed custom cut. They framed his legs, but didn't strain against them like the first one had, didn't look like they were only taken out for special occasions like the second one. They looked well worn, but also well taken care of. Greg could see the bulge between his legs, but the pants weren't cut to show that off.

He wore a short sleeved shirt made of leather, with laces up both sides. Greg could see the skin beneath, the little hints of hair. He could see the chest hair poking up at the top, just subtly there, without the attention to it demanded the way the first man had been. Number 5 had dark hair on his forearms, and Greg could see hints of a tattoo disappearing under the shirt.

He wore freshly shined leather combat boots that drew Greg's eye, but were clearly not new.
Greg smiled his way up number 5's body, and when he got to the well shaped and trimmed beard, he saw that number 5 was doing the same to him. Greg slid onto the stool.

“You're very pretty,” the man said, his voice confident and friendly. “Love the gold hair. Is that your natural color?”

Greg found himself blushing. “Yes,” he said. “It's my real hair.”

“Gorgeous.” The man ran his hand, which had scars on it but still somehow looked gentle, over a bald head. “I could never grow mine that long.”

Greg smiled. “I take vitamins,” he said.

“Not hormones?” Greg shook his head. “Do you want to?” Greg shrugged. “I think you'd make a very sexy girl.”

“Thank you.”

“So tell me, seventeen. What do you like?”

Greg, mouth open to ask the same question, was suddenly confused. None of the others had asked that. Not really. “I, um. I dunno.”

Number 5 smiled, and the light twinkled off brown eyes. “Sure you do,” he said. “Take a second, and tell me.”

Greg took a deep breath. “Well,” he said, “I do like some pain, but not too much. I love humiliation. I want to be a sissy, not a woman.”

“So no surgery?”

Greg shrugged. “Maybe some day. And I do want to live as a woman. I think. I'm not really sure.”

Number 5 smiled. “You don't have to be. That's what makes life so interesting. Okay. Do you like bondage?” Greg nodded. “And how do you feel about the idea of being bent over the back of a bike and fucked in the ass in the middle of nowhere, with someone using your wonderful locks of hair as a handle, calling you a dirty whore the whole time?”

Greg felt himself blush, and number 5 knew he didn't need to hear the answer.

“But nothing that leaves marks for more than a day or so, nothing that really damages your life. Just the allowance to go at your own pace, as far as you want. To be told what a disappointment you were as a man, how much better you are as a cock worshiping sissy girl. To be bound in leather, maybe even shared under the right circumstances. How does that sound?”

The bell rang, and Greg gave number five the same response out loud as he did writing on the clip board. “Just right,” he said. “It sounds just right.”
Number 5 smiled again. “I'm Brad.”

“Greg.”

Brad stepped down and they shook hands. “Talk to you soon, Goldie Locks.”

1 comment:

  1. AWESOME!!! i like!! i like!!....nice twist adding in the speed dating format. thank you Boots!!

    ReplyDelete