A Dad’s Fantasy Chapter 4

This is a fictional story. A few of the people are based off real people in my life. Their names have been changed to protect all involved. If this was a perfect world, and I could have a genie in a bottle or an amulet that granted my wishes I might actually wish for this. Otherwise, this is all just my personal fantasy that I find therapeutic to express and share.

This is a continuation of A Dad’s Fantasy.

She reached back pulling herself to me and meeting me in a kiss as I supported her weight by cupping and massaging her breasts. Her own hands reached up and back around my head, keeping us locked together.

We stayed like that for 4 or 5 minutes just relishing in the spontaneous act of sex, our bodies humming in afterglow of sexual bliss.

We finally calmed enough to move. Our bodies disconnected. She carefully stepped out of her dress and I out of my shoes and slacks and headed up to the bedroom.

Chapter 4

A week later and it was time to shut down the theater part of the club for a month. The time from mid-December to mid-January was the slow season for performances. Drinkers were plenty.
I called home to let Tasha know it would be a late night at the theater. She was accustomed to them. Building sets, setting lights and programing light cues happened in the late hours after the need for the stage was gone. I have spent numerous overnights working on shows just to make things perfect on the technical end. Twice a year, it was also duty to make sure everything was put away properly, inventory taken, supplies counted and ordered, etc.

It was also the first time since Tasha and I began our love affair that I was among some of my hidden cross dressing stash. I know what I promised (read chapter 1 if you need a reminder), but that desire burning in the back of my mind won out. “She will never know.” I thought to myself.

I had spent the majority of the night putting away set flats and props that were left throughout the back stage area. Then the organizing of script and technical notes, stage manager call books came. I then took a short break at the bar just before closing to have a drink. I sat at one of the stools drinking a screwdriver watching the staff begin to break down the bar and clean. Once everyone left and I made sure all the doors were locked and lights out, I went to finish my job at the theater.

I headed first to the costume shop and storage area. I was in a cleaning mood and wanted to dress appropriately. First I stripped down and took a long shower. Once out I shaved the 5 o’clock shadow from my face. Luckily Tasha liked my body smooth so I was already smooth skinned and didn’t need to shave other body parts. I towel dried myself then began piecing together a maids costume. I found everything I needed in my secret stash other than the maids outfit: nylon stockings, wig, fake nails, make-up, panties, and my custom made prosthetic breast.

I then went into costume storage and found an authentic looking French maid outfit; the satin and white lace type with petticoat and strapless corset top. It even had a white, lace trimmed apron and the white lace maid’s headpiece. I found some white lace, wrist length, ruffled gloves, too along with a pair of 4” heel sandals.

With everything in place and on, including wig, nails, and make-up, I was once again Kryztal. My heart beat rapidly at being a girl again. The feel of satin, nylon, and silk gliding over my body was exhilarating. I began the general cleaning. I cleaned bathrooms, dressing rooms, and the shop from top to bottom and had begun working in the house (The audience seating area). I was toting a duster, and a vacuum. I didn’t realize someone was in there with me. The dark shadows in the corners kept my voyeur hidden from view. I had started in the balcony. At one point I felt as if being watched, but saw no one when I looked around. I continued with my cleaning.

I made it down to the main level about an hour later. Before beginning the final stretch of cleaning I took one more break. I went over to the restaurant bar, (It’s good to be the owner) and mixed myself a martini. I was shaking the drink getting ready to pour when a voice startled me making me drop the cocktail.
“Where’s mine?” the masculine voice asked in a voice unrecognizable but somehow strangely familiar.
I spun in the direction of the voice to see a thin man in a dark ball cap pulled low over his eyes. He wore a black long sleeve shirt with a turtle neck. With me looking at him, he set a black steel 9mm pistol on the bar with the barrel pointing at me. I was terrified.

“There’s no access to money.” Told him hoping he’d leave. I was all too aware of my appearance and didn’t want him looking for more than money from me. “If he finds out I am a guy, I’m dead.” I thought to myself.

“What I asked for was my drink.” He said sternly.

“What would you like?” I asked.

“Whatever you’re having.”

“Look, mister,” I said in my best feminine voice possible, “I really don’t want trouble. If you leave now you’ll be gone by the time the police show.”

The figure at the end of the bar picked up the gun and aimed it in my direction. “Pour” he said.

I began to cry. I began mixing a large batch of martini drinks. I looked at the alarm panel and saw the blurred green like winking at me through my tears. I hadn’t set the alarm because I was still in the building. The man at the end of the bar must have seen the green light, too, and called my bluff. It felt like it took 20 minutes for me to make the drinks. I poured both into rocks glasses and started to walk down to him with them.

“That’s not what they go in.” he corrected when I was just a foot or two away.

“I’m sorry.” I cried. “Please don’t hurt me.”

I turned without waiting for his response to get martini glasses.

“That is one nice ass.” He said as I walked away from him.

I just dropped my head in shame. I had always wanted to hear that while in my woman form but not like this. I made the mistake and looked in the bar back mirror and saw the streaming eye make-up running down my cheeks. I just began crying more.

I transferred the drinks to proper glasses, and even bent over to the micro fridge to get a few olives to garnish the drink. I could feel the intruders gaze burning into my ass and thighs. I was humiliated.

I walked back with proper drinks. He just took it and drank. Not a word was said. I drank mine in two gulps. He laughed. Again, the laugh was familiar but not recognizable. I stood there watching his every move. He kept his head tilted down enough to cast shadows over his face. I began to wonder if this was someone I or one of the bar girls knew.

I was on my third drink by the time he finished his first. The whole time we drank in silence. All that was heard was the electric buzz of the cooling units. Finally he stood and picked up the gun. “Let’s dance.” He said.

I trembled as I walked toward my captor. He kept the gun in his hand and pulled me close to him. I could feel the cold metal barrel press into the small of my back. At first, I tried to keep as much space between us, but he was on to me.

“This isn’t how to show your appreciation to someone when you dance with them.” He said. “Dance with me like I’m your boyfriend.”

Although I towered over him by a good 10 inches I dared not challenge him because of the gun. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him to my chest.

“That’s better” he said.

We swayed to silent music to which he kept the beat. I felt his mouth begin to kiss my neck and the top of my chest. “I’m dead.” I thought. “He’s going to kiss me breast and know they aren’t real and I’ll be dead.”

He didn’t notice or didn’t let on he noticed. Instead he just pulled me in tighter and closer. I actually felt a long hard appendage on my thigh. I knew immediately that it is his hard-on. I closed my eyes and sighed. I began to cry more. I knew I wouldn’t see my daughter ever again. I was dead either way. Either because I was really a guy and he’d shoot me, or he’d still rape me and then shoot me. Either way I was dead.

We danced together like that for 10 minutes. I just wanted it all to be over with. Why was he dragging this out? Eventually all I could think of was my daughter and lover, Tasha. How would she take the news?

“I’m sorry to tell you this but your mom has been in a terrible accident.”

“You sick fuck my mom has been dead 4 and a half years.”

“This isn’t your mom?” an officer would say showing a photo of my dead image.

“That’s not my mom, that’s my dad.”

My overworking imagination was thwarted when my captor asked for something to eat. He pushed me to the kitchen and had me make him chicken marsala, my own renown recipe from the menu.

Twenty minutes of cooking and him undressing me with his eyes his dinner was presented. I was made to sit on his lap and feed him every bite and carefully tilt his glass up to his lips so he could drink. The entire time the gun was in his left hand pressed up under my skirt to my crotch and his other hand massaging my ass. There was a strange sense of excitement as his hands kneaded my buns. Finally his meal was finished.

“Your turn to eat.” He said.

“I’m not hungry.” I said.

“That’s fine, because what you get to eat isn’t that filling any way.” He told me.

I knew right away what was to come. I was terrified, and began to cry again.

He pushed me up and stood. He then motioned toward the door to the dining area with the pistol. I began walking out of the kitchen. He came up behind me a pressed the gun into the small of my back and lightly wrapped his slender fingers around my throat.

Without a word, he guided me through the theater. He took me to one of the star dressing room suites with a bed in it. This had to be someone I met at least once, to know this area or had done his homework.

Once in one of the rooms I was told to sit on the bed. My captor took a long thick dark piece of cloth from his back pocket. He set the gun on a table at the other side of the room and stepped to me.

“I really don’t want to do this, but I feel it necessary.” He said and covered my eyes with the fabric. I was in complete darkness.

“Now,” he said, “lace your fingers together and hold out your hands.”

“Please, don’t do th-”

Smack! The back of his hand connected with my cheek firmly and I shut up doing what I was told. I sobbed like the little girl I looked like.

He tied my hands together and wrapped a few loops in between my hands before tying it off. I could feel the weight of extra fabric drop and the end brush over my nylon clad, painted toes.

I heard his hard soled shoes click across the floor to the table and return. The gun was pressed into my forehead.

“God, please! Don’t kill me, I’ll do anything, please just don’t hurt me I cried.”

“Then undo my pants.” He said.

Shakily I reached out and felt for his slacks. I found the belt and unfastened it crying. I pulled it free.

“Fasten it around your neck.” He commanded.

I did.

“I like that.” He said. “It makes you look like the slutty bitch you are. You know what to do.”

I reached back out and freed his cock. It felt strange; almost spongy in my fingers. I never had another cock in my hands besides my own. I chalked it up to inexperience. Still holding the warm hard member I leaned forward and kissed it.

“Oooo, yeah.” He said. “Kiss it.”

I did. I didn’t know what to expect. I opened my mouth and took in the tip. It had a fleshy texture but tasted like a salty rubber band. I began running my tongue around it and sucking on it.

I was only allowed to suck on it at my own pace for about 3 minutes. It was then my captor took a handful of wig hair from the back of my head and held me while he pushed ¾ of his dick down my throat. I gagged. He pulled out and did it again this time holding my head so I continued to gag on him.

“Fuck yeah. That’s how you suck on a cock.”

I was held there unable to breath and dry gagging around the cock in my mouth for 20 seconds. I thought I’d pass out. He pulled back enough for me to gasp a couple of breaths of air and did it again, this time for 30 seconds. My eyes began to bulge and I’m sure if I wasn’t blindfolded the colors would have been fading to black. Again I was allowed to breath, but only after becoming limp. I took hold of his cock and began sucking on it for all I was worth. I licked and kissed it making pornographic lewd slurping noises.

“Now you’re sucking cock. God, you mouth feels so good around my did.”

I was determined to make him cum. Unfortunately, my lips and jaws tired out before his libido did. I stopped sucking his cock. “Had enough to eat? That’s fine there’s more to you than mouth.” He said

First my fake tits were heaved out of the corset constraints. Then my hands were tugged to the head of the bed and tied to the wrought iron head board. I was told to get on my knees. Two long thick ribbons were tied to each of my ankles and then to the foot corners of the frame. I would be able to stretch me legs out and back but I wouldn’t be able to move away much from my captor.

Next, my captor got up behind me and lifted my skirt revealing my ruffle pantied ass. “Nice.” he said. He then grabbed a hold of them ripping them painfully off my body. I yelped as the fabric dug into and across my shaft and sac.

“Well what do we have here.” He said. “A sissy boy.”

I was sobbing.

“That’s fine. One tight hole is as good as any other.”

He then took the end of the belt still looped around my neck and pulled my neck up and back. I forced my back to arch and my fake tits to sway heavily under me. I felt his other hand spread my ass cheeks before his hard tip press against my brown hole.

“This is going to be so fucking good.” He said.

Then pushed his barely spit slick dick tip deep into my ass. I screamed. He just pushed deeper. I felt my ass stretch around his shaft and slide into me. I was being raped. He didn’t stop pushing into me until I could feel his heavy balls against my sac. I lay there crying and panting in pain. He waited until my sobs and breathing returned to normal before beginning his slow rhythmic thrusts into my ass. It hurt and began to burn as the dry fucking began. Suddenly, I felt a cool almost sticky substance land at the top of my brown hole where my flesh met his dick. It was lube. The thick hard cock began to slide in and out of my ass with ease.

Soon I was moaning in pleasure in spite of myself. I was being fucked in the ass and liking it.

“You are an ass whore, aren’t you?” He said pounding me harder and faster now. “Say it. Tell me how much you like it in the ass.”

“I love it.” I cried feeling a wave a pure lust wash over me. “I love your big cock in my ass. I’m your little ass whore.”

I couldn’t believe I said that out loud. I was even starting to push back to meet his thrusts. My captor stopped his thrusts and just let me rock back and force my ass onto his dick.

He took off my blindfold. As my eyes adjusted, out of the corner of my eye I saw his shirt get tossed and then a strange gauze like flesh tone fabric in a wound up ball. Next the hat was tossed in front of me. When I turned to look back, I got a very hard slap across my ass. I kept my eyes forward.

Without warning a deep buzz and vibration began emanating from the shaft in my ass. I was stunned stiff. My captor leaned over my back. I felt soft breast, women’s breasts press into me. A face appeared next to me and wavy raven hair swooped down the other side of it from me.

“You want to be a woman so much, Dad, that you couldn’t keep your promise to me. So now you know what it feels like at the worst. I hope you like it.”

It was my daughter Tasha. She was dressed as a man. She was my rapist. Something clicked inside me. I was lost in lust, passion, desire, anything sexual all at once. It was a fantasy come true. There I was, being ass much of a woman as I could, having a sexy woman fucking me in the ass with a strap-on.

I began fucking my daughter’s fake cock with abandon. I focused on the erotic sway of my breasts and the rubbing of Tasha’s nipples along my back. My dick already hard began to twitch and fill longer, harder, and stiffer with more blood. It was my fantasy come true.

“Oh god, baby, your dick feels so good in my ass. Please cum in my ass. Make me cum with your big hard dick.” I said to her.

I felt her untie my ankles. The next thing I knew I was being flung onto my back. The emptiness in my ass from the sudden vacancy of her strap-on had me begging her to put it back in me. She grabbed my ankles and lifted them to her shoulders lifting my ass in the air. My nylon encased legs and painted toes showing through and the black heels framing her face was electrifying. She reached down and guided her phallic member back into my gaping hole. The deep new sensation was almost too much. My legs slid off her shoulders and I wrapped them around her waist.

“Now I know why men like women to where nylons so much. Your legs feel so hot around me like that.” She said thrusting her dick in and out of my boy pussy.

I looked up into her golden hazel eyes. “I love you, baby.” I said. “God, you are going to make me cum.”

I was so close. The look of her eyes glued on mine as she fucked me like a man fucks a woman was divine.

“I’m gonna cum, too. I’m so close. Don’t you dare cum before I do.” She said then gripped my sac and gave a painful squeeze. I screamed in near agony.

It did the trick and held me off. Instead, 2 minutes later, she was cumming above me. She grabbed my still hard dick and began stroking it in time with her own strokes in my ass. I grunted my warning of my eventual cum. She slipped an attachment over my tip that had a clear hose leading away to destinations unknown.

I erupted. I felt suction from the attachment and watched my thick white liquid travel through the tube rather quickly. I felt the most incredible orgasm wrack through my body and at least a dozen shots leave my dick.

I was cumming down from my orgasm when, Tasha squealed through a second of her own. I moment later I felt warm sticky liquid shoot into my ass from the phallus. I felt 5 shots hit my colon walls. She pulled the dick out and hopped onto my chest and pushed the now smelly rubber passed my lips before I knew what was happening.

As soon as it hit my tongue, 7 more shots of warm, sticky, slimy liquid hit my taste buds. It was then that I realized that my own cum was dripping out my ass and coating my tongue.

“Get dressed whore.” She finally said to me. “You’re done here for the night.”

I got up and gathered my costume and began to leave.

“Where do you think you are going?” she asked.

“To go get dressed.” I said.

“Everything you need is right in this room. I already have the rest of your things packed and in the car.” She said.

It was obviously her intention to have me walk out of the building as Kryztal. I had never walked out in public in drag. I didn’t know what to do. She picked up the pistol and lowered its barrel at me. I got dressed as best as I could in drag. The panties were the only thing missing.

When she saw me looking around for something, she asked what was wrong.

“You tore my panties.” I replied.

“I’m sure you have more here, don’t you slut.”

“Yes.”

“Let’s go get them, then.”

I lead her to my office suite. I opened the bedroom closet. Inside was a chest of drawers where I kept my drag lingerie. I picked out a spare pair of “maids” panties and pulled them on.

We then put everything away, locked up and set the alarm before leaving.

On the way home, Tasha complained of being hungry. Under threat of the gun, she made me take her to a 24 hour restaurant. I had to join her dressed as Krystal. All I could do was hope that I was passable enough to keep my true identity secret. My appearance as a sexy French maid turned heads and elicited a few crass comments.

We didn’t know it, but stopping for food then would turn out to be a big mistake.

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