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  • Aphora's Mission Ch. 02

Aphora's Mission Ch. 02

The very warm nighttime temperature and high humidity we stepped into convinced me we were somewhere in the tropics. Maybe not far from the equator.

We were involuntary tourists courtesy of a band of women!

We five men stood side by side in the near dark, neck-connected, wearing dresses, as two women with tasers watched over us. Not a word had been spoken, but we - who all appeared to be in our twenties - looked each other over.

Several were smiling, as though they thought this was the biggest joke ever, while the others looked rather grim and angry.

I noticed that Ah-lahnaya from the aircraft had joined us, looking confident but a bit tired. I had more of a chance to check her out: She was somewhat taller than the other women, stood very erect, and had dark, slightly curly hair reaching her shoulders. Her breasts were ample and nicely formed as was her waist, which was delineated by a wide, woven belt. She had silver-like metallic bracelets on both wrists.

But I was drawn mostly to her face in the dim light, which appeared nicely formed, with high cheekbones, a slender nose, and sensual, fully-formed lips. This, along with her composure, had all the men checking her out. One let out a rebellious wolf whistle, which she obviously didn't comprehend.

Soon, another woman appeared of a heavier bearing, with a more masculine look and shorter hair, wearing a similar dress with markings on her bodice that none of the other women had. She and Ah-lahnaya conversed quietly for a time before Ah-lahnaya departed into the shadows. The new woman drew from a handbag a translation instrument and began speaking through it.

"Welcome to our little camp, and thank you for following our instructions. I am sure you wonder why we have taken you from your daily lives and brought you here. Be patient; you will learn the reasons in the weeks to come. We will try to make your stay here as comfortable as possible. In the coming days we will be evaluating you and your complete cooperation is requested and expected.

"As you can see, our contingent is comprised entirely of women. We are highly trained and have complete control over you. For example, the compliance collar you all are wearing can be instantly triggered to painfully incapacitate you should this be required. And in the very, very unlikely chance you did manage an escape, it would do you no good because we are surrounded by miles of thick jungle, no roads, and then the ocean.

"Now you will be shown to your quarters, and I look forward to seeing you again tomorrow, after a good sleep."

The quarters turned out to be, in the near-darkness, a rather old, raised-off-the-ground native-built house, apparently woven from tree bark. In our house, there was one main room, with only a single weak electric bulb.

Again under the authority of two women with tasers, our plastic compliance collars were disconnected from each other and we were each taken to a separate metal bed, where our collars were chained to the head of the bed, and a new ankle shackle was connected to the foot of the bed. A light blanket was given to each of us and mosquito netting hung over each bed. A woman guard remained at the door of the house, with a radio, a flashlight, and a taser, and she was replaced by others during the night.

"Hey, beautiful, I want you in bed with me," yelled one of the men. Another added, to no one in particular, "Yeah, and just before you'd blow your wad, she'd taser you good. No happy ending for you, buddy boy."

And so on. Before long, the restive bunch of five including myself were asleep, and I had dreams of snakes curling up my legs and my getting hung up in giant spider webs as I tried to escape through the jungle.

It wasn't long before the new day dawned, with long shafts of sunlight cutting through small gaps in the side of the house. We all slept in rather late, so it must've been around 10 a.m. before anyone came in to wake us.

One of the guys chirped up, "Welcome to girl scout camp, boys. Maybe we'll be working toward our slave labor merit badge, or whatever."

Another added, "More likely we'll be learning proper deportment and how to behave on our first date." That brought gales of laughter, perhaps because of our unease about wearing dresses.

We learned each other's names. There were Alden, Chris, Roberto and Will.

As we sat up in our beds, women brought in new clothing and deposited it at the foot of each frame. When they left, our chains were removed. We took showers one by one, under strict guard, and the opportunistic Roberto was collar-zapped when he tried to escape through a window. We heard a cry of pain and then heard his heavy body fall to the floor. He sheepishly joined us again.

Our diapers had been disposed of, and the underwear laid out for us was in the shape of boxer shorts, but was tighter and silky, an off white, with no fly and a tiny bit of delicate decoration along the leg openings. I figured, what the heck, but two of the guys refused at first to wear them, then gave in, maybe thinking that this girly garb was only a temporary thing.

The guards were making notes about all of this.

Then we put on our short dresses and were taken to a mess hall of sorts, and fed traditional American fare - good for our morale.

Here we met more men yet. There were 20 of us, exactly. Again, we were all about the same age, all decent looking, all healthy. So how many women were here, I wondered?

The men ate hungrily, looking around warily, talking softly with each other.

Among my housemates, I was getting along best with Will, a sandy-haired teacher from Utah who'd been attending college near San Francisco.

Afterwards, we were ordered to stand in a long row. I started to whisper to the man next to me but cut it short when I felt a warning buzz in my collar.

A new officer-like woman began to inspect us, from head to toe, as though we were horses up for auction. However, she didn't go so far as to examine our teeth. Accompanied by three-taser-wielding subordinates, she did find one ill-tempered fellow who displeased her, and he (not from my house) was taken away never to be seen by us again.

We then returned to our dorm, and one by one we were taken to another building, each to return after 20 minutes. I realized it was evaluation time. Evaluated for what? Workhorses and slaves? Recruits for their male contingent (because the women seemed rather military)? They wanted to harvest our organs?

When my time came, I was escorted to another building and into a small room with an examination table. I was directed to remove my dress and underwear, then was strapped onto the table - arms, legs and waist - by two young women under the direction of an older woman in an attractive, shimmering, silver dress, with decoration along its bodice as an indication of status.

My cock began to pay attention to one of the two younger women and became erect in no time at all. Seeming to not notice this, the older woman asked me through her translator device to relax and submit. There would be no pain, she promised. As she made notes, a blood sample was taken, tape measurements recorded (including my penis, and around my chest and waist), and a small MRI-like device was moved over my head (after my collar was briefly removed), and I could hear it making faint sounds before it was moved aside.

Then electrodes from an impressive-looking device were attached to my scalp, fingers and toes and the better-looking attendant ran her finger sexily around my lips, softly, then around my nipples (please, you could do that all day), then around my penis, just below the head. She tried earnestly not to look me in the eye, but I caught her glance once.

This certainly beat any medical exam I had in the past.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked politely, and of course they made no effort to understand. After all, there were at least a dozen other dudes to check out.

From there, I was escorted to another room, now feeling horny, where the goings-on were even more unusual and curiosity-arousing. There, various dresses, underwear and shoes were shown to me, in my size I was told, and I was given to understand that I would be choosing what to wear in the future. I wondered how the other guys had dealt with this embarrassment, all the time remembering I was wearing a compliance collar.

At the same time, a memory returned that I had forgotten for years. I must've been around ten, my parents weren't home, and my older sister insisted on dressing me up in some of her outgrown clothes. She was bigger and stronger than me, and she coerced me into panties, a beginner bra, a slip, a dress and some girl shoes. And not only that, but lipstick and perfume too.

Then she held me in front of a mirror. I must've been blushing 20 shades of red, and turned away so I wouldn't see myself, and then I fought with her and finally pushed myself out of all that girl finery.

She was saying, "Stevie girl, you are so cute, Stevie's so cute, he makes a good girl."

And you know what? That night as a kid lying in bed I remembered a glance at myself in the mirror, and looking like a girl felt magic, as though my sister was a fairy god mother and I, Cinderella. But that sweet reverie lasted only a day before I completely reverted to Stevan and boyhood.

However, every once in a while my sister would embarrass me in front of my friends by hinting at what we'd done together.

I also remember looking through her lingerie drawer a couple years later, when I was entering puberty, and then quickly closing it, thinking it was freaky and queer to do so. Later on in life, the old feeling would re-emerge once in a while when I would see a sexy bra or hosiery ad.

So, in our tropical paradise, I was to make choices. I acted as though I didn't want to decide, but secretly I was kinda enjoying the freedom to dress however I wanted. In fact, the little wetness emerging from my penis in the exam room was now increasing.

I spent a lot of time looking at everything (after all, the guys couldn't see me doing this). I couldn't pick the sexiest thing available to give myself away, but then again, I had good taste (I had always been a keen observer of women's fashions).

My chosen dress was of a very soft material of a lilac color, with some bead ornamentation, and my underwear was in the form of rather plain, stretch panties in various colors rather than boxers (or bloomers, as women call them). My shoes were leather sandals with an intricate design and short heels.

I skipped the jewelry.

Of course, the next morning in the dorm, when our chosen clothing was all laid out for us to wear, we all joked about what we'd chosen. Like me, most of the guys chose conservative stuff.

Roberto was now permanently missing; we heard that he'd refused to choose or further wear any new feminine clothing.

On the other hand, Chris didn't hold back at all, and had chosen the most elaborate and sexy kind of dress, very lacey underwear, strapped shoes and a necklace.

One of the guys called out, "Hey, Chris, you forgot the bra!" to which Chris replied, "If you can't beat 'em, join 'em."

I figured either Chris was gay or some kind of closet cross-dresser, the category I had a vestigial attachment to. And while all this joshing and kidding was going on, our guards were making notes, and I'll bet we were being videoed as well.

I came to enjoy wearing tight-fitting, slick and sexy panties over my male bulge, but would never admit it. Heck, we were all wearing panties.

We kidded that we'd soon have to adopt girly names. I would be Stella, Chris would be Krista, Will would be Willamina, and Alden would be, well, Alida. This was in the nature of the old drag shows men's clubs used to put on, with coconut-shell bras and grass skirts - a once-a-year escapade good for a lot of laughs.

I wondered how far this clothing trip would take us. We still didn't have a clue as to our raison d'etre.

We manly girls in dresses and panties were just sitting around during the heat of the day, killing time by playing cards or shooting baskets with wadded-up paper, while our guard or guards kept a close eye on us.

At night, I would remember the woman who had caressed my nipples for science and one night I began to hotly masturbate to this vision. But the compliance collar began buzzing. We had no privacy whatsoever. Like they said, they owned us.

(To be continued)

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