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