Date: Thu, 16 Sep 1999 23:16:33 EDT

From: Cindy V

Subject: Early Memories by Cindy V. TV: Young Friends, Control

EARLY MEMORIES

by Cindy V.

Femdom, TV, humiliation

As I think back to my childhood, I can remember exactly when my

introduction to crossdressing and female domination began. It was in

fourth grade, in the 1950's, by my teacher, Miss Stevens. After a series

of women teachers who were old and dowdy, Miss Stevens was the heartthrob

of the fourth grade boys. She was young and cute, she wore red lipstick,

and I'm sure every boy had a crush on her. In fact, we were all shocked

when she got married over the following summer - somehow we foolishly

thought she would wait until we were older for one of us.

Anyway, on the day of the big fourth grade play, Miss Stevens surprised

us by doing something none of my earlier teachers had done. She got out

her liquid makeup and announced that she was going to put some on each of

us so that we would look better under the stage lights. The girls were

thrilled - they did not have too many opportunities to wear makeup at that

age, and they were in heaven. The boys groaned at this affront to our

masculinity. But Miss Stevens sternly insisted that this was essential to

the performance, and as our female classmates gleefully teased us, Miss

Stevens sponged a little liquid makeup on each of us. Fortunately all of

us boys were in the same embarrassing position, and we survived the

humiliation of the makeup and the taunts together.

I should say that in elementary school it was cool for the boys and

girls to hate each other. We would look for opportunities to find fault

with each other and tease each other verbally whenever we could get away

with it. I admit I was no different. Although I was a year younger than

the rest of the class because I had skipped second grade, and quite a bit

smaller too, the boys accepted me, largely because I could play ball. So

when the boys were teasing the girls, I was right in there too.

In fifth grade our teacher was Mrs. Allen, another older woman. As our

fifth grade play approached, I had not forgotten about the makeup incident

of the year before. Mrs. Allen, however, was not a woman who wore makeup,

and we seemed safe this year. But it was not to be. Mrs. Allen asked the

class if anyone could volunteer their mother to come in on the day of the

play to do makeup. Marilyn and Betsy raised their hands. On the day of

the play, their mothers came to school. Marilyn's mother, in particular,

was quite a glamorous woman, and once again to the catcalls of the girls we

boys found ourselves standing in line waiting for our makeup.

The next year was sixth grade, our last year in elementary school.

Our teacher was Mrs. Vinton. We were "seniors." We were all a little more

cocky than we had been a year before, as we all tried to see how much we

could get away with. The girls had learned how to work the system, how to

become teachers' pets, how to be infuriatingly polite, at the chagrin of

the boys who never seemed to understand how to play up to the teachers.

All the boys could do was laugh loudly when a girl made a mistake in class,

or dropped her lunch, or bent over and had her panties show. The rivalry

between the sexes was at its highest that year.

The day before our sixth grade play, Mrs. Vinton had not mentioned

anything about our volunteering a few moms for makeup duty. She also

appeared to be a woman who did not wear makeup, and I wondered if we would

be safe from this awful humiliation this year. The girls, however, had

thought about this ahead of time, and were prepared.

"Mrs. Vinton, would you like some of our mothers to come in tomorrow

to do the makeup?" Elaine asked. Mrs. Vinton had forgotten about this, and

she thought it was too late to get someone. "Mrs. Vinton, it's not hard -

some of us could do it if it would help you out," volunteered Jane. Jane

was the tallest girl in the class, and since I was a year younger, she

really towered over me. Mrs. Vinton was happy to have one fewer detail to

worry about, and she agreed. The boys collectively groaned.

The morning of the sixth grade play was a morning of great activity

and confusion. Scenery was falling apart, microphones were not quite

working, and poor Mrs. Vinton was going in a dozen directions. Somehow the

girls had arranged for a separate room for the makeup, and Lee was calling

out our names alphabetically one by one. One by one a boy would enter the

other room, and he would emerge a few minutes later wearing a thin layer of

liquid makeup. Although his cheeks would be red with embarassment about

the thought of having to wear makeup and of having it applied by a female

classmate, it seemed to be better this year that boys didn't have to watch

each other have makeup applied. Thank goodness for small favors. I was

glad not to be the first boy called, and slowly it dawned on me that

alphabetically I would be the last. Maybe that was good.

Finally Lee called my name. I entered the room, and Lee followed me

in and closed the door. Marilyn, Betsy, Elaine and Jane were already

there. I was surprised to see that they were in what appeared to me to be

full makeup in what was then the style of the 1950's - their skin was a

little too white, they were each wearing a thick black line above their

upper eyelid, and they were wearing lipstick. Their lipstick was a bold

shade of red - not bright and shiny like it might be today, but dark and

deep. The makeup, but especially the lipstick, instantly made them seem

older and more mature. They also looked sort of pretty. I was afraid -

something was not right.

"Billie," Elaine said to me. "Did you know that Sharon is out sick

today?" No, I didn't know that. "Someone needs to fill in for her in the

play." I didn't understand how this concerned me.

"She and two of the shorter girls in the class are the ballerinas,"

explained Betsy with a smile from her red lips. "And you are about the same

height." Jane held up a pink skirt with layers of ruffles. The girls

giggled. Their intention was clear.

"Oh no you don't," I said, as I ran for the door. Lee and Marilyn

blocked the door. Betsy, Elaine and Jane started closing in on me. Soon I

was surrounded by all five girls. Two of them forced my hands behind me.

Someone was unbuttoning my shirt, someone else was unbuckling my belt, and

someone else was unzipping my pants.

"Why are you doing this to me?" I whined, as I felt my pants slide to

the floor.

"Because we girls are tired of you boys teasing us all the time,"

replied Elaine. "Grow up, will you? This is a lesson for all you boys."

The next thing I knew I was naked, except for my underpants. With my

hands still held behind me, someone slowly lowered my underpants.

"Gee, is that as big as that thing gets?" asked Marilyn, as her

girlfriends giggled at my flaccid penis.

"Gee, I thought they were supposed to have some hair down there,"

remarked Betsy, to more giggles and to my utter embarassment.

The girls worked quickly. They put a girl's sleeveless T-shirt with

sparkles over my head. They put pink girl's panties over my behind and

penis. They put the pink ballerina's tutu on me, followed by girl's

slippers. My legs were compeletely bare, and the tutu ended many inches

above my knees. I felt ridiculous.

"And now for the reason you came in here in the first place," said

Lee, as she pushed me into a chair. "Let's draw straws to see who gets to

do Billie's makeup," she said gleefully. "Shortest straw wins."

Lee got five pencils of various lengths, arranged them in her hand,

and had each girl choose one. When they were done they compared lengths.

"Yippee, I won," exclaimed Marilyn.

Marilyn got her cosmetics and came over to where I was sitting. She

told Jane and Lee to hold my arms behind me so I wouldn't move. Elaine and

Betsy were watching Marilyn intently from the sides as she went to work on

me.

Marilyn shook the bottle of liquid makeup onto a sponge and stroked

the sponge over my face. She spread out the cool liquid until she was

satisifed with it. She took her finger and dipped it into a tiny jar of

colored cream, and then she applied the cream to a small area on my cheeks.

Rouge, she explained. Then she opened up a compact and began powdering my

face with a powder puff. Meanwhile the other girls oohed and ahhed and

said how pretty I was starting to look. While Marilyn got the next item

ready, Elaine took a bow and clipped it to my hair. Somebody sprayed with

me a sweet perfume.

Marilyn showed me what looked like a black pen. "This is liquid

eyeliner," she explained to me. "You need to close your eyes, but not

tightly, and be very still. If you move I will just have to wipe it off

and do it again." I closed my eyes and felt her get very close to me. I

liked the way she felt. I felt my penis growing against the panty fabric.

Slowly, Marilyn drew a line with the eyeliner on my upper lid. I could

feel the liquid on my eyelid. She continued her line past my eyelid. She

told me to keep my eyes closed until she said I could open them.

When she let me open my eyes, she was very close to my face. She was

examining how straight a line she drew. She seemed satisifed.

"And now for some lipstick," she announced in a cheerful voice.

She picked up a tube of lipstick and unscrewed it. Two girls were

still holding my arms tightly behind me. Marilyn held my chin in her left

hand as she drew the red lipstick to my lips. My own eyes were focused on

Marilyn's red lips. All of a sudden Marilyn looked extremely pretty to me.

As she painted my lips with lipstick, I wondered why I hadn't realized how

pretty she is. I felt my penis grow some more.

Marilyn finished with the lipstick, made me blot my lips into a

tissue, and stood back to admire her work. My eyes were transfixed on her

lips. I wondered if she and I were wearing the same shade of red. I could

hear the girls giggling in the background as they commented on what a cute

girl I was. Suddenly, I felt the image of Marilyn and her pretty red lips

change before my eyes. I knew it couldn't be true - but I felt like I was

staring at Miss Stevens!

The girls couldn't have known this, but they did know something was

up. "Look at how big Billie's panties are getting," Betsy laughingly

exclaimed.

Of course I had no idea how to sit with my knees together, and as I

looked down it was obvious that my penis had become erect.

"Let's all get a really good look," said Elaine, as she reached for my

panties and lowered them to my knees. My cheeks burned with embarrassment,

as the girls stared at my penis. Each of them took a turn feeling it and

giving it a little push to watch it bounce up and down.

"We can't very well have Billie appear in the play in this condition,

girls, can we?" asked Jane.

"It's pretty clear he likes you best, Marilyn," said Lee. "Maybe you

should try to get him to squirt."

Marilyn took control. She told two of the girls to hold my hands

behind me again so I couldn't get loose. Then she looked me squarely in

the eye as she put her fist around my penis. She started stroking me up

and down. She was going to masturbate me, whether I wanted to or not, in

front of her friends! How humiliating! But I forgot my humiliation as I

concentrated on her delicious sensation on my penis. I closed my eyes

halfway, still faintly enjoying her dark red lips while thinking of Miss

Stevens. I rubbed my own lips together as I imagined kissing her - who -

Marilyn or Miss Stevens? I wasn't sure. But as I closed my eyes and

imagined someone's lipstick kissing my lips, I came.

Marilyn caught my ejaculation in a tissue - the same tissue with my

lip prints that she had used to blot me. An ironic and erotic touch, I

thought.

The girls were hysterical laughing at how expertly Marilyn had totally

overpowered me. "What a little sissy," someone said. Marilyn saw that I

had rubbed some of the lipstick off, and decided she needed to put more

lipstick on me.

When she was done, someone looked at the clock. "My goodness, it's

almost time for the play to start," she said. The girls stood me up, fixed

my panties and skirt, and walked me to the door. As they opened the door,

it hit me how the whole class was going to see what the girls had done to

me.

END