Forced Crossdressing Story Novels & Stories

The biggest one leaned down, his lips barely brushing my ear. “Take your clothes off, little human,” he murmured. “Let us see what we are going to claim.” My hands trembled as I reached for the hem of my shirt. I knew this was my only chance to survive. But my body was already burning, desire mixing dangerously with fear. The circle on my wrist burned hotter, waiting. In a swift, I pulled my dress down and it dropped to the ground~ Who can guess what happened to Gunnar? perhaps I would drop another chapter today if anyone guessed it right.

He came out of my wardrobe holding my tight red cocktail dress, the short, figure-hugging one I sometimes wore for special nights out. “Put this on,” he ordered. “Nothing underneath.” I slipped the dress over my sticky, messy body. The mixture of cum, sweat, honey, and cream made the red fabric cling tightly to my skin, turning some areas darker and wet. It felt so filthy and exciting at the same time. Once I had it on, they told me to kneel in the middle of the bedroom. The four men formed a circle around me, slowly stroking their cocks again. Mr. Reynolds handed me a laminated A4 sheet of paper. “Read this aloud so we all know you happily accept the terms.”

I grip the edge of the counter to steady myself. “This isn’t real,” I whisper. “This isn’t me. They know it isn’t me.” But I know how it works. The truth never mattered. The story is all that counts. And right now, the story is that Elena Cross is filth. I slam the empty bottle against the wall. It shatters, shards scattering across the marble. Scotch bleeds down the glass like rust. My chest heaves. I sink down, back against the wall, knees pulled up. My silk dress wrinkles, my hair falls in my face. I don’t even care.

I had plans of bringing Meadow here, bending her over and fucking her from behind. But maybe… maybe this wasn’t so bad. I’d have a new one made. And we would christen that one. This bastard already ruined it with his fucking shoes anyway. “You were only trying to—” “To what? Impress me?” I scoffed. “You’ve been trying a little too hard lately, Cross. Haven’t you?” He blinked twice, looking to the side as if there was someone there who could help him. Save him. “I t-thought… I thought it was cleared. The confirmation came through.”

“How did the plug feel yesterday, little one? Did you think of me every time it shifted inside you?” “Yes, Master,” I whispered, cheeks burning. “I could barely concentrate at work. Every movement reminded me that I belong to you now.” A small smile touched his lips. He fastened a leather cuff around each of my wrists and ankles. The cool material against my heated skin sent fresh shivers through me. Then he led me to the large St. Andrew’s cross mounted against the far wall. My heart raced faster with every step. “Face the cross,” he ordered. I pressed my front against the smooth wood. He secured my wrists high above my head, stretching my arms wide. Next came my ankles, spreading my legs a

Jay replied softly. People passing by couldn’t help but notice the two of them—how easily they fit into each other’s presence, how their hands found each other, how their eyes locked like they had their own secret language. An elderly couple smiled as they walked by. A teenager elbowed his friend and whispered, “Goals.” In the theater, the lights dimmed, and the movie began. At first, it was just another romantic drama. But soon, the story unfolded into something more. Too familiar. A woman torn between loyalty and love. A complicated triangle of truth, betrayal, and second chances.

“I don’t have a memory for when it began, but I was five when my mother started dressing me as a boy. I wasn’t allowed friends, and we weren’t allowed to stay in a pack for more than three months,’ I continued. I stared at him, maybe I was hoping that he would say something. But still he said nothing. I squeezed my eyes shut, taking in a deep breath as I forced myself to continue, “When I turned eight, I had forgotten the rule, told a little girl my name… my real name, crescent…” I winced, this memory was one that I wasn’t proud of, something that I never wanted to think about. “a man had heard; he had taken us… and when he asked who was crescent… I had pointed to her… she couldn’t fight...

Who would've thought? The homeless man I met back then-the one I asked to pretend to be my fiancé- wasn't homeless at all. And in the end... he became my happy ending. Fate really did have a strange sense of humor. Because the fake fiancé I once found on the streets... was now about to become my real husband. —

What does her noble behaviour say about me? Shakespeare’s Rosalind was a possibility, but for the future. Her cross-dressing was an activity that would require serious research, and my itch needed scratching sooner rather than later. My eye spots Mademoiselle de Maupin, Gautier’s most successful novel. This is a woman to copy. She appears, dressed as a man. She causes her friend Rosette and Rosette’s lover to fall in love with her. It is a complicated triangle, involving homosexual and heterosexual affairs. Rosette falls in love with de Maupin, as a man, but is really entering a lesbian affair, while Rosette’s lover, d’Albert, believes he is entering a gay relationship, but it is actually he

Daring to cross such realms had never truly crossed her mind but as her eighteenth birthday begins to approach, she knows her future is already set in two paths; sold as a slave to another cruel master or work in the brothels as one of the many town whores. Driven by purpose and a thirst to change the fate aligned for her, Ariadne disguises herself as a boy and crosses realms in search of a greater life-- But what meets her on the other end is so much more. WARNING; This story is rated R for mature audiences only. It contains sexual themes, violence, gore, profanity and nonconsent. Readers discretion is advised.