Hiding Under The Bed
With no time to waste on a stuck window, you shimmy under the bed just as the door opens. Carefully peering out from your hiding place, you see three very large women entering the room. They are freakishly large. The smallest of them, standing about six foot seven inches, turns to lock the door on her way in. “Alone at last,” she says in a sultry baritone.
“Finally!” the next largest of them sighs in a faux southern twang, “If I had to keep this corset on for a moment longer, I think I’d snap!”
“And so would the corset!” interjects the third and largest of the bunch. They all laugh, sounding like a record being played backwards very slowly. “Keeping up appearances is sooooo very haard, right ladies?” she asks in a husky tone. A wig drops right in front of your face and a sigh of relief emanates from somewhere high above.
From beneath the bed, only a trio of colorfully-garbed lower halves are visible. Without warning, one of them drops down on the mattress. The resulting pressure nearly snaps your spine in several places. Slowly, she rolls down a stocking (in front of your face) revealing a well-muscled and very hairy leg. Before you can stop it, a sound (part childish giggle and part scream of terror) escapes from your mouth. “Did y’all hear something?” the semi-undressed amazon asks. A giant potato shaped upside-down face comes into view. A stranger hiding under the bed in its own clothes shocks the face. It shrieks. Hands the size of Christmas turkeys drag you from your perverse den. Soon you are cowering between the three most hideous gender-bending “women” you’ve ever laid eyes upon… and you used to live in Saskatchewan.
“Well, welly well well!” the largest woman quips, “Looks like we caught a peeping Tom. Well nobody who seen us without our proper clothes on ever lived to tell about it, but you’re simply too cute to kill. We know what to do with him don’t we ladies? See, we can’t have no bebbes of our own but that don’t matter none because lookie here, the stork brought us our very own special gift!”
Being a surrogate child to a trio of cross-dressing giants isn’t as bad as it sounds. You never have to worry about things like work, school or going to the toilet. But it does get pretty confusing around feeding time…
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