Date: Mon, 15 Dec 1997 13:18:56 PST
From: Sian Seteyan <nais@hotmail.com>
Subject: TG STORY: DIARY

GO NO FURTHER!!!   DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU ARE A MINOR, OR ARE EASILY 
OFFENDED BY EROTIC SUBJECT MATTER.


DIARY Copyright Seteyan  All Rights Reserved.

I saw her as soon as I came into the dining room of the hotel, and 

unconsciously sat a table where I could see her clearly. She was 

lovely, a six foot tall blonde goddess, late thirties, with sharp 

Germanic features, and a short masculine hairstyle. The reason I 

noticed her though was her clothes, she was dressed in a shockingly 

tight grey sweater dress, cashmere i think, that went up from her 

booted calves to the edge of her chin, ending in a slim turtleneck.  

On top of that she was wearing a cropped angora cardigan, also grey 

but lighter, that barely covered her large breasts.  It was, 

unfortunately for me, a vision straight from my dreams.  I ate my 

dinner transfixed, not tasting the food, just staring at her. I think 

she was sitting with another woman, younger, and an Asian man, but I 

would not have noticed.  Over coffee I took out my pocket diary and 

tried to sketch her, to capture her beauty, but my days as an aspiring 

artist were long past. I am obsessed with sweaters and there was some 

sort of trigger effect when I saw her: my heart beat faster, my pants 

were suddenly tight, my hands felt sweaty.  I started instead to write 

down how I felt, to write another one of my elaborate fantasies, only 

this time starring her. 

 If I could have talked to her, I would have, but I became too wrapped 

up in my private fantasies to overcome my shyness. So there I sat, in 

the emptying restaurant, feverishly scribbling erotic thoughts to 

myself, imagining those sweaters around me, on me - when I looked up - 

and noticed her staring at me.  I blushed violently, and stood up from 

the table, spilling coffee across my pants. It was so embarassing, I 

dropped my diary on the table and started dabbing at my pants, not 

daring to look up again.  She would be looking, I knew she would.  

Finally I walked to the men's room, as calmly as possible, to try and 

regain my composure.

When I returned a few minutes later, my hands were no longer shaking. 

I was almost dissapointed to see her table was empty.  Ah well - too 

bad.  I went to pay my bill, waiting for me on my small empty table, 

when I realized with a shock - my diary was gone.  I stared around the 

table, looked on the floor. Nothing.  Only a hotel key left next to my 

coffee cup. And it wasn't my key.

I got on the elevator like a zombie. What did it mean, had she taken 

my diary, and left the key to tell me? Had she read the diary already? 

The notes and stories in the diary were so intensely personal, I 

turned red on the elevator just thinking about it. Maybe it was a coy 

invitation. I doubted it.

I reached her room, 1204, three flights above my own.  I knocked 

hesitantly, thinking only that I had to get the diary back.

A voice said, "Come in." I tried the knob, noticed my hand was 

shaking.  "Use the key", said the voice, a deep feminine voice.  So I 

let myself in.

The room was dark, and I remmeber smelling the pervasive scent of 

perfume and clothes and women.  She was sitting in a high backed 

chair, READING MY DIARY. I tried to swallow, unsuccessfully.

She said, "I suppose you want this back?" I nodded. She smiled.  "What 

you have written about me is...", she trailed off, shaking her head. I 

tried to say something, that I was sorry. "And now you have let 

yourself into my room, what am I to think?"

I stared about wildly.  She laughed, but it was a cold laugh, cruel. 

"Relax", she said, "I only want to see if all of this is true, I mean 

what would happen if you put one of my sweaters on?"

The words hung inthe air. I swallowed again; suddenly it was so hot in 

her room I thought I might faint.

"Put this on", she said, and held up a sweater, mohair I think, a knit 

turleneck, with a soft fuzz around the edges. It was pink.  "Put it 

on," she said, "and then you can go."

She tossed it at me,and I caught it. Like a sleep walker, I pulled the 

soft wool sweater up over my head, down over my polo shirt.  I felt 

the fabric caress my bare arms, I smelled the deep smell of wool and 

felt - woozy.

She smiled at me as I emerged from the thick neck of pink wool. I 

wondered if the room was spinning from having realized this secret 

fantasy.

She said, "Sit down." And I did,on the edge of the bed. "You like it, 

I can tell," she whispered, "and I think you would do anything to stay 

in that sweater, to look like me." And she pushed her breasts forward, 

straining the fabric of her sweater dress. I stared at her, the room 

went out of focus around her.  She said, "Why don't you pull the neck 

of that sweater up around your face?"

And it sounded so logical, like the perfect escape. I unrolled the 

soft wool up over my hairless chin, it stretched up to just below my 

eyes.  She smiled again. The wool smelled strange, as it covered my 

mouth and nose, it smelled sweet, like a chemical. I stared at her, my 

temptress, and her grin grew wider and wider. 

And then I lost consciousness.

When I awoke, I knew I had been drugged, I knew it with the certainty 

that you have after a violent nightmare.  There had been chloroform on 

the sweater - and now where was I - a dark room - the hotel - where?

I sat up and edged my way to the corner of the bed.  I felt strange, 

something about the clothes I was wearing - and then the lights went 

on -  I looked at down at myself: I was a WOMAN!  Huge breasts 

stretched at a fuzzy grey sweater, my legs (hairless they looked like 

someone else's legs) were wrapped in strange fishnet stockings, and my 

feet were jammed into cruel looking high heels, four inch heels, with 

tiny locks at the ankles. I took all this in at a glance, then looked 

up at the woman in the door - the Blonde - wearing what looked like a 

rubber catsuit, smiling at me cruelly, waving my diary in lazy circles 

in the air.

She said, "This is a lot like a story I have been reading." She 

flipped through the pages of my most intimate secrets. "Would you like 

to hear it?"


I stood up suddenly, too suddenly, and went down on one knee, my head 
spinning. My heavy breathing caused the breasts on my chest to rise and 
fall, under the cool grey sweater.  I stared at them distractedly, as I 
heard her laughter again, that cold, cruel laughter - and then there was 
a flash of light.  Flashbulbs going off inmy head, was I blacking out 
again?  I peered up at her uncertainly. Next to her was a smiling asian 
woman, the woman from her table at dinner.  She was pointing a small 
camera at me, giggling as she took picture after picture.  I looked up 
at the both of them incredously.  Another flash.  I stared at the Asian 
woman's bizarre red sweater dress.  It was tight and long, almost to the 
floor.

The blonde yanked me to my feet suddenly, steadying me on the four inch 
heels.  She barked at me to stand still, and then smiled for the camera.  
By the time the white lights stopped bouncing around inside my head the 
Asian woman was gone.  The blonde pushed me away from her, and I fell 
back on the bed, a heap of stockinged legs and grey angora.

"First you come into my room, you write sordid things about me, then you 
try on my clothes, what should I do with you Mr. Aranson?" She asked 
this question in the same cruel mocking tone. At the sound of my name my 
body stiffened.  She continued. "We know who you are MR. Aranson, we 
retrieved your bags moments ago, and normally we would already be 
finished, but you interest us."

My head cleared somewhat on hearing my name. "Let me go", I croaked, but 
all I got was another cold smile.  She moved closer to me on the bed, 
then very slowly lowered herself on top of me. I could smell the rubber 
and sweat from her formfitting catsuit.  Her knees were on either side 
of my stockinged legs, her hands at my shoulders.  Her smile was inches 
from my ear.  "Close your eyes,"she said, "and feel my skin." And I did, 
I ran my hand over her reptilian curves.  "Now touch yourself ," she 
said.  And I did.  I felt the soft, fuzzy edges of my own curves.. 
Somewhere under these female clothes my desire stirred.  She whispered 
in my ear, "You can leave right now Mr. Aranson." Her handcrept down 
over the grey sweater, down and under the edge of it, and pressed 
lightly against my manhood. I shuddered with fear.  "Tell me you want to 
go Mr. Aranson and I will help you to the door."  She touched me again, 
as I ran my hands feverishly over the taut rubber stretched over her 
breasts.  I shook my head.  "Please", I said,but it was barely audible.  
"Or how would you like to feel like me?" Her lips caressed my ears. "How 
would you like to wear my clothes, to dress in something like that grey 
dress I was wearing earlier?"

My throat felt dry.  Her voice was so close to me, inside of me.  "Say 
you want to stay." I nodded, involuntarily.  "Say you want to wear my 
clothes, to feel like me."  I nodded again, my head pounding.  "Say it."  
And I did.  I said everything she wanted to hear.  I heard my voice say 
those things and it was like listening to a stranger.  She finally stood 
up, releasing me. My thighs felt slick with desire.  "Take off those 
clothes and go bathe. Yuki will help you. Do everything she says or the 
pictures and your naked ass will be delivered to the authorities.'"  I 
stood up meekly, still tottering on the heels, and very slowly made my 
way into the bathroom.

I undressed slowly, as if it was a dream, and Yuki appeared to free me 
from the locked high heels and the unfamiliar brassiere.  Her pointed 
breasts were cupped in a latex bikini, and I shuddered with desire all 
over again.  All in all it was terribly unfair.  They knew evrything 
there was to know about my obsessive fantasies, they knew my history 
with women's clothes and sweaters.  They could push all of my buttons 
without thinking twice.
I ruminated on much of this as Yuki scrubbed my nearly hairless body 
clean, then shaved what was left from my legs and chest, my underarms 
and pubic hair. Something burned in the shaving cream she used, and I 
was forced to grip the shower rail while she finished.  Then she pulled 
a straight razor, and shaved my face clean and my sideburns, and then 
started on my head.  I panicked for an instant, and in a flash Yuki had 
the blade of the straight razor poised over my penis.  She smiled 
crookedly, shaking her head, and completed the haircut.  My eyebrows 
were the last to go, shaved down to a bare minimum. Then Yuki forced me 
back into the hot steaming water, and I emerged more naked then I had 
ever felt in my entire life.

She toweled me roughly, and then led me into the adjoining room.  I knew 
I was still in the hotel now, although this suite was much larger than 
my own.  For an instant my mind screamed escape, but when I saw the 
clothes laid out onthe bed, my weak will collapsed.  
It was simple pile of lingerie, and lycra, topped by a strange bra and 
sweater, but the very sight of them cut my resolve in two.  Yuki pulled 
the lycra girdle around my waist, and up to my chest, and I felt it 
squeeze me in a million places, compacting my male body into a rough 
simulation of feminity.  The huge brassiere was next, a black satin job 
with enormous cups and broad straps.  The girdle attached to two latex 
stockings, the top edge of the girdle stretching down like a miniskirt 
and clamping on to the talcum laced rubber.   I stretched unfamiliarly.   
Yuki dissapeared for a second and I caught a glimpse of myself in the 
bathroom door mirror, a strange flat chested, hairless eunich, somewhere 
between two sexes. And then Yuki returned, slipping huge breast forms 
down the front of my brassiere, at least a 38D.  I felt top heavy, but 
all questions of sexlessness had gone. And then the sweater, the same 
pink angora number I had tried on before, with the long chloroform neck.  
It did not smell like chemicals anymore, and now it felt tight, as it 
stretched obscenely over my huge breasts.  I watched the strange 
creature emerge as the neck passed over my face.  I sighed.  And then 
the lights went out, as Yuki pulled a tight black sheath of lycra or 
something rubbery over my face.  I could breath, my lips were visible, 
but I could not see.  Yuki grabbed my hands and pulled me to the bed, 
where she locked something around my neck.  Then manacles closed around 
my wrists, and the same uncomfortable shoes were latched onto my feet.  
My head was spinning.   Yuki did not wait, she tugged me to my feet and 
led me away with short mincing steps into the next room, and further 
along (I thought I heard a door open and shut), until I was completely 
disoriented.  And then there was applause and laughter, and my body 
burned with shame under all of these clothes.  I was in a room full of 
people dressed like this, huge sweatered breasts, and hi heels - 

And then the blonde spoke, and she said, "Everyone, meet Erin.  She will 
do anything for a sweater."  And I knew she was right.

TO BE CONT'D  - Feel free to submit the next chapter to nais@hotmail.com