Dirty Laundry
An innocent mixup at a laundromat winds up in much less than innocent results!
Matt really should have known better. He shouldn't have to be reminded, either by another or by circumstance, that getting wasted at a party on Sunday night was not a good idea. Still, when he had gotten the last-minute invitation to a party he couldn't refuse, particularly when there had been the promise of plentiful hot, young ass to feast his eyes upon. While the promise of eager young ladies had been vastly overstated, there had been booze aplenty and the wolf had partaken liberally. At the time, at least, it had seemed like a reasonable response to an otherwise dull party.
Hours later the clock was flirting with midnight; soon he would be able to count the hours left before he would have to be waking up and getting ready to work on one paw. Instead of getting comfortable in his bed, however, Matt found himself at the humid little laundromat down the street from the apartment, watching the clothes spin in the drier through bleary eyes. He'd stumbled home from the party only to realize that he had utterly failed to wash any of his clothes for the upcoming week, and tomorrow he had an important review with his manager. The wolf had his eyes on a healthy raise, but he'd have to look and act his best to impress. There was no way he was going to pull that off with dirty, wrinkled clothing.
For the better part of an hour he had been sitting in an uncomfortable, plastic chair. He'd even passed out after he'd thrown the load in the drier, waking only when the harsh buzz of the timer sounded, and he'd sat up in a fog of confusion. The heavyset gator who was manning the front counter seemed not to even have noticed him sitting there sleeping, and he really had no idea how long he had fallen to sleep. Muttering under his breath, he staggered over to the drier and pulled the door open, shoveling the now dry clothing into the laundry bag, firing off a mock salute to the bored attendant before he shuffled his way out the door.
Home was, fortunately, not very far away. Only a few blocks away, he was able to make the journey in just a few minutes on foot; while it wasn't exactly the best part of town, it wasn't so bad that he felt nervous about walking around alone in the dark. Besides, he reasoned to himself, the chances of some mugger loitering about and waiting to abscond with his laundry were pretty small.
Fishing his keys out of his pocket and working the lock open proved to be problematic. By the time he made his way in to his apartment and tossed the laundry bag on the couch, flicking one light on, he was thoroughly irritated. The laundry was done but he still was not ready for bed. He would have to make sure that he had at least one outfit hanging up to keep it from getting wrinkled. He shot an angry glance over at the clock in the corner when he saw it read 12:28.
With a grunt and a sigh, the wolf tugged the drawstring open and started pulling the clothing out. He was looking for something specific, a long-sleeved blue shirt that he had bought only recently. As soon as he pulled a pair of frilly pink panties out of the bag, however, he froze.
"What the ..." He frowned at the clothing dangling in his paw, trying to figure out where it had come from. It had been a while since he had the opportunity to hold a pair of panties like that, a fact that irritated him to no end, and he was positive that enough time had passed since the last time he'd had a woman in his apartment that he would have noticed something like that. When the next article of clothing he pulled out was a long black stocking, he realized something was very wrong. Peering into the bag, he could spy nothing other than women's clothing, most of it lingerie and other delicates.
He had taken home the wrong load of laundry.
Blushing, he dropped the stocking back on to his couch. He remembered seeing a few more machines running back in the laundromat, so obviously he was not the only one that was forced to spend a late night at the laundromat, but he didn't remember seeing anyone there. Certainly, he could not recall seeing the dainty creature that would be wearing this kind of clothing.
Cursing to himself, he stuffed the few articles of clothing back into the bag and hurried out the door. Locking it behind him, he started to lurch his way on down the street, back in the direction of the laundromat. With any luck, his load might still be there and he'd be able to exchange the load without anyone being the wiser.
Hardly five minutes later, Matt stumbled his way into the laundromat, the hot, humid air smacking him in the face again as he made his way back to the corner where he had been sitting. To his chagrin, however, there were no more loads of laundry being cleaned. Cursing under his breath again, he made his way over to the counter, clearing his throat to get the attention of the attendant.
The gator, looking excessively bored as he read the now outdated morning newspaper, glanced upward and almost frowned. "Can I help you?"
"I, uh, seem to have grabbed the wrong load of laundry," he said under his breath, feeling slightly sheepish about it. "I don't suppose someone else said anything about getting the wrong load?"
For a long moment the reptile just stared at him, before reaching under the counter and producing a piece of paper that had been carefully folded into eighths. "This would be for you," he said, plunking the paper down on the counter, pushing it in his direction, and then turning his attention back to the newspaper.
In spite of the attendant's demeanor, Matt felt a rush of relief as he scooped up the paper on the counter. "Thanks," he muttered under his breath, stepping away from the front counter and over to the door, leaning against the frame as he unfolded the paper and looked at the note.
Got your laundry held hostage at my place, the note read, written in a playful, feminine script, followed by an address. _ Hurry on by and get it before I decide to keep it!_ The tone of the note made his eyebrow quirk on its own. The quick image of a playful young temptress dressed up in revealing lingerie, waiting for him to show up and claim his "hostages" came unbidden to his imagination, but he realized that was a little out of line. Even if there were some truth to it, he knew it was way too late for anything like that. He'd have to make the exchange and head home as quick as he could. Glancing at the address again, he realized that it was not far down the street, either. Almost the same distance as his apartment, only in the other direction.
At least he would get his clothes back. Hurrying on down the street in the direction of the address on the paper. It only took him a few minutes to come up to the little apartment complex nestled up against the side of the road, double checking the apartment number and making his way to the indicated door. Again he felt a swell of relief as he could see a int of light filtering in through the window. The frilly shades made him briefly hopeful again that he'd run in to some cute, lonely thing who might invite him in for a drink. As he knocked on the door, he realized how stupid that idea sounded.
The door was answered by a male tiger who looked to be about his own age, dressed in a tight muscle shirt and an even tighter pair of cutoff jean shorts. He had a little hematite stud in his right ear, and his bright blue eyes absolutely sparkled when he got a look at his visitor. "Well hello! Oh, a laundry bag, you must be the laundry thief, then!"
Matt breathed a groan inwardly. The unabashed lisp in the tiger's voice and the little flair with which he conducted himself made it painfully obvious that he was dealing not only with a homo, but a particularly boisterous one at that. "Uh, yeah, sure," he said flatly, closing his eyes as he suddenly felt a little dizzy. He wasn't sure if it was the alcohol or the realization that he had been inadvertently fondling the panties that belonged to a flaming male tiger.
"Well goodness, hun, you look like you're gonna pass out!" Before he realized what was happening, he felt the tiger grasp him by the shoulder and tug him into the apartment. "Come on, sit down and catch your breath. What have you been doing, partying all night long?"
Matt shook his head and tried to shake off the grip. "No, no, I'm fine ... look, let's just swap clothes and I'll be on my way. It's late."
He opened his eyes just in time to see the tiger shutting the door behind him, before herding him in the direction of a nearby couch. The interior of the apartment was more than merely frilly, it was downright gaudy. The coffee table had lacy doilies at each corner, the walls were adorned with what looked like some kind of ballet posters, and the furniture looked better suited to his grandmother's home. When the tiger spoke up again, his voice and demeanor matched the frilly nature of the apartment. "Oh my! Usually the guys try and get a few drinks into me before they start talking about getting into my clothes," he said in a flamboyant, teasing manner.
The wolf was not really in the mood for it. Shaking his head and groaning, he covered his eyes before speaking up. "Ha, ha. Look, really, it's late, I just want to get my things and go. I have to get up early."
A brief moment of silence passed before he opened his eyes and looked up at the tiger, who now had his arms folded over his chest and was regarding him with a suddenly chilly look. "Oh, come on now, I'm just havin' a little tease," he said, and then brightened up before he headed over to the adjoining kitchen. "No reason to get your panties all up in a bind."
Matt had to hold his tongue to keep from making some snarky comment about who among them was wearing panties. "Yeah, sure," he said, leaving it at that as he shook his head again. "Can I just get my clothes?"
"You mean these atrocities?" The tiger returned with a pile of clothes in his arms, which had been neatly folded. "These are _so_out of style, hon. We're talking, like, last decade stuff here. Just where have you been doing your shopping?"
The wolf felt himself snapping. "Look, I don't need to take fashion advice from a ..." He caught his tongue at the last moment, and looked up with a slightly pained expression.
The tiger looked even more pained at that, at first shocked, and then an expression that was approaching anger. "From a what?"
Matt almost felt bad. The tiger, a complete stranger, had neatly folded all of his clothing, left a note telling him where to pick it up, and here he was, sitting in the guy's living room and deriding him for what he was. He'd always tried to be tolerant of those with an alternative lifestyle, but found the in-your-face flaunting of homosexuality to be tasteless, at best. "Nothing," he said, frowning.
"No, you weren't going to say nothing. What is it?"
"Look, I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything. Can I just get my clothes and go?"
The tiger frowned again, and turned around, setting the clothing on a nearby table. "No, go ahead and say it. What's your word of choice? Faggot? Homo? Fruitcake?"
The wolf almost cringed at that, but the combative nature the tiger had taken on was eroding any kind of sympathy that he might have felt. "Look, I wasn't going to say anything. I don't really care what you people do, but, come on. We ... your lifestyle is completely different from mine. Last thing I want to hear is you telling me what I ought to wear. I mean, hell," he said, undoing the drawstring on the laundry bag and dumping the contents of it onto the couch. "These are _girls_clothes."
"Only if a girl wears them," the tiger retorted, obviously trying to remain good-natured in spite of the insults he was getting in his own home. "I'm confident in my manhood enough to know that I can wear that, and look damn good."
"That's ridiculous," he replied, frowning.
The tiger shrugged his shoulders, reaching over and grasping one of Matt's button up shirts. In a flash, the shirt was unbuttoned, and the tiger was slipping it on over his tight white shirt, doing the buttons up one after another. "Look, I can wear your clothing and look every bit as manly as you do, so you ain't got nothing on me, hun. What I wear underneath makes me feel good. You got a problem with that?"
"Yes. I mean, no," he fumed, feeling the strange urge to get up and tear the shirt off the tiger's chest. What right did he have to wear his shirt like that, to give him a hard time - to call him hun? "I don't really care what you wear. Hell, I don't know a thing about you except that apparently you've got a thing for wearing women's underwear. Now, come on. Give me my shirt and I'll get out of your house."
"Ah," the male said with his shoulders drooping a little. "It's so sad to see, really."
Matt scrunched up his face a little in confusion. "What the hell does that mean?"
The tiger shrugged his shoulders a little, reaching over to the table and running a fingertip over the folded clothing before he began to smirk a little. "I'll tell you what. I'll give you your clothes back as soon as you return the favor. I've shown you that I can look every bit as manly as you in your ugly collared shirt," he said. "So why don't you take that cute lil' pair of panties there, put them on and prove to me that you're man enough to do it."
"That's stupid," he retorted with a snort. "There's nothing manly at all about wearing a pair of panties."
"Suit yourself. The only reason for a guy like you to be afraid of doing it is because you're afraid of something. You're afraid that you'll put them on and realize that you're not quite the man you think you are. You're afraid that you might like it, heaven forbid."
Matt waved it off with an irritated little grunt. "That's ridiculous. Look. The last thing I want to do is sit here and argue with you about it all night long."
"Then stop arguing and get dressing." The tiger flashed a toothy grin at him and winked.
"Oh come on," the wolf said with a low growl, practically fuming where he was at. He felt like he was a few breaths away from making himself guilty of assault. "Give me my damned clothes before I call the cops."
The response was a light, somewhat mocking laugh. "Call the cops? What are you going to tell them, a mean old faggy tiger stole your clothes and won't give them back?"
He had to admit that it did sound ridiculous; if he were the police dispatcher receiving a call like that, he would be more inclined to laugh the caller off rather than send any officers to waste their time. It was getting late, though, a clock on the far wall showing just a few minutes to one, and he didn't have the time to sit here and argue with the guy. "Come on, just ... let's not play this game, I got to get home ..."
The tiger would not relent. "You come here and insult me in my own home for something you don't understand, you don't make demands. Spend a moment in my shoes - well, my panties - and then you can feel free to insult me all day long if you like, but I won't accept an apology until you understand where I'm coming from."
"You just want to see me in your panties," Matt shot back with another irritated glance.
"Maybe." The tiger just shrugged at that and smiled. "Doesn't really matter to you. Put them on, and the clothes are yours."
Matt turned around and took a step toward the door. He didn't have to stand around and put up with this, and he certainly didn't have the time for it. Yet he also realized that he couldn't just walk out the door without his clothes. Tomorrow would be among the worst of times to call in sick to work - he could get away with it, but it would do a lot of damage toward his aspirations at work. His options to retrieve his clothes were limited. He couldn't really beat the guy up and take them. Calling the cops would have made him a laughingstock. With a sigh, he turned to the tiger once again. "No cameras?"
"No cameras. I swear!"
Again Matt sighed. He was probably still a little drunk, and could, in retrospect, blame that for anything that happened. He didn't really care what this stupid homo thought about him, since he would never run into him again in his life, most likely. "I'm not wearing anything frilly, and I'm not changing in front of you," he growled, gritting his teeth.
"Oh, of course not, hun!" The tiger suddenly seemed to brighten, waving in the direction of a hallway off to the side. "You can change in my bathroom down the way. I suppose you can pick any pair you like, that's a fair enough compromise. Go ahead and take my bag of laundry with you. Take your time, too ... and you can keep your shirt on if you like, but once you've got that pair of panties on, you come on out here and model them for me and I'll call the deal good."
The wolf wanted to protest the bit about modeling, but he didn't have the patience to argue anymore. Without waiting for another word, he stalked his way into the dim hallway and straight to the end, where he saw the door to the bathroom cracked open. Pushing his way in and flipping the light on, he closed the door behind him a little more forcefully than he should have.
The room was simple and clean, if a the vanity was a little overcrowded with what had to have been various scented soaps, bath salts, body sprays and other such things. Matt growled at his reflection in the oversized mirror, resolving to go out of his way to avoid his own reflection. The thought of seeing himself in panties was not one he wanted to cherish. Behind his reflection he could make out a walk-in closet, shelves lined with neatly folded clothing of one variety or another, well-pressed shirts and even a few coats dangling from hangars off in one corner. Even fruitcakes had to dress professionally for work, he supposed.
With a resigned sigh, he took a step into the darkened closet and dropped the bag of clothing that he had carried with him, letting the contents spill out onto an unoccupied shelf. If the tiger dressed normally during the day, this was undoubtedly his nighttime collection : panties, long stockings, skirts and more. For a brief moment he considered picking through the pile and selecting a pair of panties that he might find suitable, but the thought of doing so seemed to somehow validate the whole stupid exercise. Growling, he snatched the first pair out that caught his eye.
Deciding that it would be easiest if he just got it over with, Matt tugged at the fly of his pants and, hooking his thumbs inside the waistband of his underwear beneath, tugged the both down his hips and into a pile on the ground around his feet. Looking again at the pair of panties that he had snagged, he felt himself blanching a little at the frilly black lace on the hem. _At least it's not a thong,_he thought to himself with some measure of relief. Gritting his teeth, he held the pair of women's underwear open and stepped into them, pulling them up snug to his groin.
He was strangely surprised to find that they were almost a perfect fit - and somewhat comfortable. The thin fabric in the front hugged his sheath nicely, and was just the right size to conceal his balls. The lacy waistband hugged over his hips just right. All he had to do was reach around behind to snap the little strap that went up and over his tail. Even more strangely, Matt found himself compelled to turn around and peek in the mirror, see what it looked like on him.
It was a compulsion that he was able to overcome.
Still, he realized, that even if he didn't have to look at himself in the mirror, that queer tiger fellow was going to get a good peep show out of him. He knew that the snug fit of the garment against his sheath and his balls would do nothing to conceal the shape, giving the perverted male a perfect idea of what he looked like. Hell, he may as well have been naked at that point. Matt nearly tore the panties back off and stormed out in a rage, but that would only get him back to square one.
"Bastard never said I couldn't wear something over them," he muttered to himself aloud, realizing that something of a loophole might be found. Strangely forgetting his own pair of pants at his feet, he started to dig through the pile of clothing on the shelf. He discarded a pair of cutoff shorts that would be too much of a hassle to get on and off. After sorting through a few more pairs of panties and stockings, he came across a dark purple skirt. It seemed easy enough. With a grunt he stepped into them and pulled them up over his hips, wriggling them into place.
They were pretty tight, and short, only just covering the panties underneath. They didn't completely obscure his bulge, either, but at least the shape was vague enough that he didn't feel naked. With a mildly satisfied grunt, he turned to head back out.
Unintentionally, he caught his reflection in the mirror. There he was, in a grungy and wrinkled t-shirt and a miniskirt that hugged his hips. In spite of himself, he laughed. "Oh, god, I make a terrible girl," he said to himself, shaking his head. Still, out of curiosity, he held up his hands and blocked the upper and lower parts of his reflection. The bulge was still too prominent, he thought. Turning his hips a bit he glanced over his shoulder so he could get a look at his butt. "Well, that's not too bad," he commented to himself. "I'd hit that. Maybe after one or two shots..."
Turning his head again, he caught the sight of the pile of clothing out of the corner of his eye. A curious little thought tickled the back of his mind, and he found himself wondering just how terrible a girl he'd make, if he were better dressed for the occasion. It was a thought that had never popped into his head before, and one that he realized would probably never occur to him again. It might have been his only opportunity to satisfy that strange little question.
Hesitantly, he returned to the pile of clothing.
Curiously he fished around in the pile to see what other articles of clothing the tiger might have had. He fumbled past a couple of blouses and some more panties, one or two uncomfortable looking thongs, and then came across a long stocking that was the same color as the skirt he had slipped on. Holding it up, he realized it was made of the same material, as if it were part of an outfit. Gingerly, cautiously, he wriggled his foot into the stocking and began pulling it up his leg - it wouldn't do to snag the material on a toeclaw and have to replace the damned thing.
Again, it was nearly a perfect fit. It came up past his knee, halfway up to his thigh, and ended in a little lacy frill. The material hugged his leg without bunching up, giving his leg a decidedly sleek, feminine appearance to it. Chuckling, he fished out the stocking's twin, slipping it up his left leg and wiggling it into place. It was as if the tiger and he wore the same sized clothing.
There were a few more items of clothing that looked like they matched the set. First was a pair of elbow-length gloves that had the same frilly fringe. They were easier to put on than the stockings, but had the same effect of making his forearms look sleeker, more dainty. Wiggling his begloved fingers, Matt laughed at the thought as he dug through the clothing and found one more piece of clothing that seemed to match the color and fabric of the rest of the getup. At first he had trouble telling what it was - tube shaped, with one side bearing a number of lacy bows, and the other side a zig-zag pattern of white lacing. Once he held it up to his chest, though, he realized that he was holding a frilly corset.
"A corset?" He laughed softly at the thought, but, as he had already gone this far he thew caution to the wind and started to pull it over his chest. It was a little tight squeezing his shoulders through but once past that point it slid over his torso fairly snugly, a little loose in the chest. It didn't come down fully to his waist, leaving his midriff exposed. It seemed all to silly, and he chuckled to himself, turning once more to get a look in the mirror.
"Awful," he repeated shaking his head. He _did_make a terrible female. The bodice was designed for breasts - albeit small ones - and seemed to hang from his chest a bit. Even covering the reflection of his head with his gloved paw wasn't enough to hide that fact. Moving his paw a little lower - just enough to cover his chest - suddenly everything looked different.
Matt wasn't the biggest of guys, and he knew it. He might even have described himself as slight, but certainly not feminine. His body shape was still wrong, his hips too narrow, but somehow, from the middle of his torso down the getup looked convincing - almost alluring. Sure it was silly, bordering on outright slutty, but from that point down it worked. He might not even need a shot to convince himself to hit that. Maybe just a beer.
The click of a door to his side made his blood suddenly go cold. "Hey, you get lost in there or something hun? That's an awful long time to put on a pair of ..." Instinctively he threw his arms around him, as if he might hide what was going on, as the tiger was making his way into the bathroom. Briefly he considered retreating into the closet, trying to somehow tear his way out of the clothes before the other male knew what was going on, but even then it was too late. The tiger stopped dead in his tracks, his jaw going slack, blinking for a moment before a weird smile started to play on his lips. "Oh, you naughty girl! Going through my things like that without asking!"
"No, I'm, um, sorry," the wolf replied, stuttering, shaking his head. He tried to take a step back and retreat but his legs were suddenly frozen in place.
"Well if you wanted to play dress up, all you had to do was ask," the tiger said in a lilting voice, stepping forward and looking him over in an appraising fashion. Matt wanted to object, wanted to point out that it was nothing more than a weird, morbid curiosity, but his tongue suddenly felt swollen up in his throat. "But my, such a naughty outfit, too! Good girls don't wear anything like this, just a girl looking for trouble!"
Swallowing hard, he managed a few dry, raspy words. "I'm sorry, I'll take it off ..."
"Nonsense!" The tiger interjected, waving a hand in the air dismissively. "But here, you do have this a little wrong. Turn around, let me fix it for you!"
The wolf found himself complying in a dumbfounded haze. Turning, he found himself facing the mirror again, the tiger stepping up behind him and taking hold of the bodice. Deftly the male shifted it on his torso, reaching around behind and pulling the lacing snug, starting to tie it off. Matt couldn't help but to notice that as it was tightened, it closed more firmly around his chest, the top hugging his pecs in a way that created the illusion of small breasts, perhaps an A cup. The tightening down below made his figure somewhat more hourglass in shape.
The tiger seemed to regard him in the mirror with a little nod. "There we go, that's better! Now let's see ... hmm. Your hair is a little short, but I'm afraid I don't have any wigs that'd look right on you. Here," he said, reaching up and tousling Matt's hair, the wolf feeling strangely powerless to intervene as his hair was splayed down over his forehead, partially obscuring his eyes. "A little short, but, maybe you're just butch."
In a bizarre sense it was true. He knew better - it was his own face he saw in the mirror, after all - but he could almost forget it, almost convince himself that he really was looking at some boyish wolf bitch dressed for more than a little trouble. The image of the tiger's paws moving to his chest, subtly adjusting the way the bodice sat on his pecs, looked for all the world like a lewd fondling. The same way he might fondle a cute little figure like that.
Alarm bells went off in his head when he felt the touch trailing downward over his sides, playing against his exposed midriff before following the contour of the skirt downward and then brushing over his thighs. He felt strangely paralyzed, unable to do much of anything except for watch the reflection in the mirror, fixated on the sight of fingertips playing against the bare fur of his legs. He could feel his heart starting to thump loudly in his chest while the tiger bunched up the short little skirt, pulling it upward. When he finally did speak up, his voice came out all raspy, wavering. "What ... what are you doing?"
"Oh, you naughty, naughty girl. You wouldn't be dressed like this if you weren't looking for trouble." While the panic continued to rise in his chest, a part of his mind found itself incapable of disagreeing with the sentiment. A girl dressed like that really was looking for trouble, of course. He could envision himself whispering the same words to the cute lil' bitch in the mirror, could see his own paws meandering under that skirt to run lewdly over the soft rise of the bitch's mons, pulling the flimsy fabric of those panties to the side to let his finger slip in and run against her sex.
Except that he was the bitch dressed for trouble. He could feel the tiger's fingertips tracing out the shape of his cloth-clad package, could feel a finger slipping inside the panties and stroking against his sheath. When he involuntarily let out a little moan, the tiger leaned in to whisper into his ears. "Looks like you found trouble too."
The tiger's voice sounded different. The little flair and lilt had melted away, the voice becoming low and for all intents and purposes masculine. He didn't look at all faggy in the mirror now, hands sliding up the skirt of a proper slut. Matt gasped again when he felt those fingers move against his inner thigh once more, then around his hip to brush lazily against his rump before it aimed straight for the spot beneath his tail, nudging the cloth out of the way and pressing lewdly right against his anus.
The screaming alarm bells in his head demanded that he run, but his body did not budge. He watched in mute horror at his own reflection, watched his own hips begin to sway slightly back and forth in response to the touch. Why the hell can't I run?
"Mmm, more naughty than I thought," the tiger said with a low growl, extracting his hands from the skirt and resting them on the edge of the counter next to Matt's waist. The male then leaned in, pressed an obvious bulge in his shorts right up against the wolf's backside and began to grind firmly. "Don't have to tell me what you're looking for, bitch, I can see it in your eyes, in the way you dress. You just want some guy to bend you over this counter, lift your skirt and fuck you, don't you?"
It was quite possibly the last thing that the wolf could have possibly wanted. In fact he wanted to open his mouth, protest, and say that he was in the mood for anything else, but his mouth just would not open. It was held shut by some strange twisted logic running through the back of his mind. No one had made him dress up like a whore, after all. He had put the clothes on of his own accord. Perhaps he had secretly wanted to slip them on, perhaps he secretly did want to be a lil' wolfbitch. Perhaps he really did want to be bent over that counter ...
Of course it was all nonsense, but still he couldn't budge. He simply watched it all in the mirror, watched as the tiger stood up straight again, relieving the pressure on his backside. The feline reached back to his own crotch and tugged the fly of his cutoff shorts open, pulling them down and wriggling his hips from side to side to work them down. Matt caught a few little glimpses of his cock, swollen, stiff, swaying from side to side. Did the tiger really mean to fuck him?
Without missing a beat, the male reached around and pulled open one of the vanity drawers to the side. Matt watched, his eyes fixed on the reflection in the mirror, while the tiger pulled a little unmarked bottle out of the drawer, setting it on the counter before fishing around again before pulling out a shiny foil square. The telltale circular bulge in the foil made it very clear what it was, but the wolf still watched, wide-eyed, as the tiger tore the packaging open and pulled the condom over his swollen dick. "Happy to give a naughty bitch what she wants, but I'm not gonna get her knocked up," the tiger said with a lewd grin before reaching for the little bottle and unscrewing the cap.
Ten minutes ago, he was remarking at what an awful girl he made to his own reflection. Ten minutes before that he was arguing with a homosexual tiger about the merits of wearing panties and ten minutes before that he was walking down the street, half hoping that he might be hooking up with some lonely girl whose laundry he had accidentally swapped. Not once during the night had he ever thought he might find himself dressed like a hooker, half leaned over a counter with a horned up tiger lubing his cock behind him, but the wet squelching sound of that lube being smeared against a condom was all too evident in his ears. He could still say no, he could still run, but still his body didn't move.
He put the clothes on himself. This was what he wanted, right?
A sudden pressure at his back forced him forward, and Matt reached forward to grasp the edge of the counter and prop himself up. He continued to watch his own reflection in the mirror while the tiger hiked the skirt up with one hand, reached in to unclasp the strap holding the panties up over his tail, and tugged them downward. For a brief moment he could feel the kiss of air against his backside, against the flesh of his undertail, and then there was the rude intrusion of something slick, warm, and hard. One last chance to back out.
He didn't move.
At first it was just a pressure there under his tail, a slight pressure that quickly grew, and then it happened. He heard a low grunt behind him a half second before a sharp, painful heat registered beneath his tail, a burning sensation that quickly ran up his spine and made him cry out lightly in surprise. Flashes of light filled his vision before he squeezed his eyes shut, leaning forward and groaning helplessly as that burning pain at his backside blossomed into a real fire, and for a second he feared he might simply pass out from the pain.
He was surprised at how quickly the pain began to subside down to a dull throbbing sensation under his tail - either that, or he had simply lost track of the time. When he opened his eyes again, the sight in the mirror was almost enough to startle him. There he was, leaning over the counter, jaw agape, skirt hiked up high while the tiger behind him was shuddering, getting used to the tight sensation around him. He'd seen that look on a guy's face before - even on his own, from the few times he'd recorded some shenanigans with some unsuspecting girl. It was that blissful look of having first hilted deep inside of a conquest. The difference was that this time, he was the conquest.
The same part of his mind that had been sounding alarms before was now crying out in defeat, that he'd allowed himself to sink to this level, that he'd somehow been duped into raising his tail for some queer. Yet at the same time he coudln't help but to think that it made sense. It certainly looked like it made sense in the mirror, little more than some loose whore being bent over by some randy guy. It didn't matter who they were, how they knew each other, or even if they did. Women dressed like that were sluts, and that's what sluts did. Right?
When the tiger again moved, pulling his hips back and grinding them forward, Matt experienced another little wave of heated pain in his backside, but significantly muted in contrast to the first one. It was still enough to elicit a gasp from his throat. The tiger thrusted again, slowly, and again he felt that pain, but as the male under his tail began to settle into a rhythmic sawing motion with his hips, the pain slowly faded, lessening with each thrust.
The groans from his own muzzle did not fade, though. It was like a scene out of some kind of cheap porno, watching the whorish bitch moan out with each and every thrust as if it were the best thing in the world. Hell, it even started to feel good after a few minutes, little hints of pleasure that ran up his spine and helped those little groans to sound a little more loud, a little more genuine. He couldn't possibly be finding this pleasurable, but, that's what bitches like him were after, right? To be used, bent over, fucked?
No, he couldn't possibly find it pleasurable, but it sure felt damned _good. _Good enough that he felt his own cock starting to strain at the panties he was wearing, the cloth barely enough to contain him. Good enough that he started to pant and grunt loudly in spite of himself. Good enough that he actually heard his own voice speaking up under those groans. "Oh, yes ... yes ..." Just like a good whore should.
The tiger seemed only too happy to oblige. The wolf watched, wide-eyed in the mirror as his own body started to sway and grind back against the eager rutting at his backside, watched the lusty look of pleasure forming on his face as he moaned out for more and more. And damn did it feel good! He could feel the insistent jabbing at a spot inside of him that made him quiver, made him weak in the knees, made his voice waver with a little whine.
It wasn't meant to last, though. After a few moments of the rut the tiger suddenly leaned his head back, roaring loudly as he was assuredly climaxing. That was a face that he had seen in videos too, a face that was every bit as unmistakable as the first - the tiger was cumming, and he was cumming hard. Matt continued to watch it all unfolding in the mirror, watching his tongue hanging out as he panted, moaned loudly for more and more, watched as he, the eager little bitch, took it every bit like the whore he was.
"Naughty girl," the tiger growled out again when he was done, slapping him firmly on the buttocks. Unexpectedly the male pulled out, just as his own pleasure was really beginning to heat up. He found himself feeling cheated, empty, reaching back reflexively to adjust his panties and clutch at his backside, turning to look at the tiger directly in protest.
What he saw nearly made him lash out in anger. The tiger had already turned to the nearby toilet, pulling off the now used condom and dropping it in the trash before grabbing a hand towel to wipe the remainder of the spunk from his cock. It wasn't the tiger's apparent inattention to his own needs, however, as much as it was the fact that the male looked somehow _different_when he wasn't being reflected in the mirror. He didn't look like some virile male who had just gotten done using some willing and slutty bitch - he looked like little more than some faggot who had just gotten through violating him.
Matt felt like throwing a punch but was caught off guard when the tiger, still nude from the waist down, passed him with a nonchalant shrug. "You sure are one hot fuck," he said, stopping at the walk-in closet to bend down and retrieve Matt's own clothing that was there, shoving it back in the wolf's chest. "But you know, I'm not really into you as a person. I'm sure you understand, but I think it's best if you just get going now."
Thought the wolf was beginning to see red in anger, the whirlwind pace at which things were happening and changing around him made him feel like he couldn't keep up. Rather dumbfounded, he found himself being led along - almost hastily - back into the living room and toward the door that led back outside. Fumbling for how to react, he turned around and shook his head. "But ... but ... I'm still wearing your clothes ..."
"They're yours now," the tiger said, his voice once again taking on the lilt and lisp that it had at first, swatting at his rump playfully again and grinning. "But you might want to hurry on home dressed up like that. Might give off the wrong impression hun," he said with a laugh and a wink, pulling the door open and motioning outside.
Matt was dumbfounded and confused. Without really thinking about what he was doing, he stepped outside into the cool night air, turning around again and blinking at the tiger. "Come back if you ever feel like playing dress up again," he said, winking before shutting the door with a click and latching it behind him.
For a long moment the wolf just stood there on the doorstep. He half considered kicking the door in, storming inside and beating down the tiger who had somehow tricked him into letting himself be used. Matt was straight, after all - yet when he turned to the door to bang on it, he caught his reflection in the window again. Straight men didn't dress like that. "What the hell is going on?"
Confused, he stumbled away from the door and, almost on autopilot, began to shuffle his way back toward his home, not too far down the street. His mind struggled to process what had just happened. He had put on women's clothing, gotten fucked by a tiger, and liked it. Yet he hated it at the same time, felt intensely dirty for what he had done, and he had no idea what the hell it meant. Every time he considered turning around, stomping back to the tiger's apartment and giving him what for, he remembered his reflection in the mirror. He remembered the clothing that he had put on. He had gotten what he wanted, after all, hadn't he?
When he was almost home, he suddenly remembered that he had left his clothing at the tiger's apartment, still sitting there on the couch, all folded neatly. He remembered the review that he had, only hours away, for which he had no good clothes to attend. He remembered the entire reason he'd gone to the laundromat in the first place that evening. With a frustrated cry, he threw the bunched up clothes that he was carrying on the ground and turned around. He had to get that back.
To his surprise, he nearly ran straight into a horse who had apparently been following close behind. Matt raised his fists, prepared to defend himself, but the horse merely blinked and swayed where he stood. "Hey ... uh, how much?"
"What?" The wolf blinked, confused, angry, and startled, still ready to strike if he had to.
The horse looked around furtively, swaying a little on his feet, reeking of cheap wine. "How ... how much do you charge?"
Matt shook his head and took a step back. "Look, I don't know what you're talking about ..."
Abruptly the horse shoved a piece of paper in his direction. "Just tell me ... is this enough for a blow job?"
It wasn't until the wolf took a look down and, seeing the paper was actually a crumpled up twenty dollar bill, that he realized what the question meant. "Oh, woah, look, I think there's been a bit of confusion ..."
With a grunt, the horse shook his head and shoved his hands back in his pockets, producing a handful of wadded up bills and stuffing them into Matt's hands. "Is this enough?"
Without realizing what he was doing, the wolf looked at the money in his hands and added it up. Three twenties, a ten, two fives and a one. Eighty one dollars. He lifted his head again to protest, but while he had counted it up the horse had already made his way over to a shaded spot beneath a tree, moving away till he was nearly out of sight of anyone else in the vicinity. Matt heard the distinctive sound of a zipper being pulled down, and looked back at the money in his hands.
It was almost as much money as he made in a full day, after taxes. Then he caught his reflection in a little puddle of water that had built up on the side of the road, saw himself wearing that outlandish outfit. Of course the horse had assumed that he was out on the street looking for work. He glanced at the money in his hands, and then at the darkened silhouette of the male standing behind the tree. Once more he looked at his reflection in the puddle, and could not help but to grin wryly.
It was what he was dressed up for, after all.