Blossoming Shemale

I'd had a few by this stage, so I wasn't really picking up all the details as we transferred over, but I was still in control, and still felt that I could charm Christie. I felt a niggle in my brain when they said the name of the club, but I wasn't really focused.

The last thing I remember of that night was Christie's face. She was smiling at me like she knew the punch line to a joke I was telling, and it seemed like she was rising above me...

* * *

When I woke up I was cold, and my head was pounding. It must have been a busy night. I reached over to the other side of the bed to see if I'd been successful with Christie, but instead I felt the wall. This wasn't my bed. I tried to open my eyes, but they were so dry and they felt sandy. But the realisation of not being in my own bed pushed me on.

I was in a single bed, more of a cot really. I couldn't remember ever having slept in something so small. Above me was a window, but it was only muted light coming in. The walls were an off-white colour, but clean. The wall at the foot of the bed looked like one of those two or one-way mirrors you see in cop shows, I always get the one/two way thing mixed up. The wall opposite the bed held the door, and an average sized TV mounted to the wall, high up. The carpet looked short, and was a creamier colour than the walls. That was it. Was this a cell? It didn't look like a bedroom that's for sure. The mirrored window worried me, and I could feel a creeping panic.

I pulled back the duvet, which was surprising thick. I realised that's the only reason I was warm, as I discovered I was pretty much naked. What I was wearing, was a thong. I could feel the material up my bum crack. It was sizes too small though. I'd always been pretty proud of my dick. I was a good nine inches hard on a good day, and thick enough to get the job done. I looked down at my crotch. My cock was stuffed inside the pouch, but it wasn't up to the job of fully concealing me. Part of my nut sack was squished around the sides, and even part of the shaft bulged out. It was, of all colours, pink, and spandex. I'd never have been caught dead in something like this. Usually I wore boxers, occasionally briefs, but always muted colours. Why was I dressed this way?