Sissy

A/n: I would love reviews, especially to know if anybody has interest in reading more about this character! Thank you!

-

"Fuck off, you little sissy," the man sneered, flicking the stub of his cigarette in Aaron's direction. His friends laughed derisively and eyed Aaron, looking as though they'd take any excuse to break his face.

Aaron froze. His whole body flushed with a sudden, unexpected, and unfamiliar emotion. "Look, guys," he said, his voice low. "I’m not looking for trouble."

The guy, who had already started to walk away, laughed over his shoulder. "What a pussy," he scoffed to one of his friends, but none of them turned around. Aaron let his breath out slowly and backed away.

He made it the two blocks to his car (stupid of him to be out here this late at night), and slid hurriedly inside, and locked the doors. For a moment Aaron just sat in his dark car, his hands gripping the steering wheel tight, his heart pounding. His face felt hot. It wasn't the first time he'd felt this way, but he hadn't been expecting it, and he didn't…he didn't let himself think about it too often, and…

Shaking a little, he started the engine and drove home.

-

It had been really, really difficult for him to do. He'd tried valiantly to convince himself that no one would ever guess, but he couldn't help feeling like everyone was staring at him accusatorily, knowing exactly what he was going to be doing later. He could be buying it for his girlfriend, as far as anyone else knew, he tried to reassure himself. It didn't help. He was a nervous wreck until he got home—and even after that, too.

Aaron dumped the shopping bag in the corner of his bedroom and tried to ignore it. He made himself dinner. He had a couple beers. None of it really took the edge off; he could practically hear the fucking thing calling to him the whole night. At last, he gave in.

Abandoning his third beer on the coffee table, he edged his way into the bedroom, staring down the Macy's bag in the corner like it might jump up and bite him at any moment. Aaron ran a shaky hand back through his gold-blonde hair; he hadn’t let it grow long since he was about ten, and he would never grow it out again, but for the first time in years he almost missed it. Abruptly he reached for his t-shirt and tugged it up over his head, wrestling his arms out of it and tossing it aside, and hopped out of his jeans just as rapidly. He hesitated a moment, and then stripped his underwear off, his cock springing free already hard as he stepped out of them. Goosebumps prickled over his skin. He was about to just leave his clothes there, but then Aaron looked down at them and kicked them under the bed, out of sight.

He advanced on the bag and picked it up gingerly by the handles, easing himself down onto the bed. Aaron lifted the tissue-wrapped object out, discarding the bag; the paper crinkled in his fingers as he peeled it back. At last the skirt lay bare on his lap, the object of his shame.

Aaron stared at it for a long moment, his skin reddening. Even alone in his apartment, it was a disgusting thing to do, and he almost threw the thing away and pretended like it never happened. Almost. But he wanted it so badly, in a way he couldn't even explain, and it was already here…

Lowering the thing to the floor, he stepped one foot into it and then the other, drawing the skirt slowly up over his knees and up his thighs until it reached his hips. Aaron held his breath as he zipped it up the side—it was a miracle it even fit him, as he had just made a wild guess as to what might actually be the right size. He smoothed his hands down over the fabric, and closed his eyes momentarily; but then he made himself get up, and moved to stand before the floor-length mirror on the back of his closet door.

The skirt was white, and frilly around the bottom, and short. It was probably the girliest fucking thing he could have bought and he'd done it on purpose, despite how much it shamed him. Of course, saying that it fit was kind of a stretch—he hardly had hips to speak of, and it rode almost vulgarly low, letting a fine trail of coarse blond hairs peek over the hem. It made his long skinny legs look even longer. Aaron smoothed his hand slowly over his abdomen, trailing his fingers over the soft fabric, and then rubbed his hand up over his chest (trying all the while not to meet his own eyes). He didn’t look much like a girl, especially shirtless, except maybe that he was skinny enough to be one—but then he was too tall, and that ruined it too.

His hand was shaking. He ran it through his hair again, taking a few deep breaths and trying to steady himself. No one was here to see; no one would ever have to know. And fuck, he was so hard.

Aaron sank back down on the edge of the bed and spread his legs wide, looking down at the way the skirt draped between his thighs, outlining his hard cock. He spread his legs wider, swallowing at how vulnerable it made him feel, and slowly slid his hand beneath the edge of the skirt to wrap around his cock. For a minute he just stroked himself slowly, his lips parted on shallow panting breaths, but then he stopped.

It felt…wrong. He didn’t want to touch himself like this, not with the skirt on, but what else could he do? Helplessly Aaron looked around, and then his gaze caught on the pillows at the head of the bed. He reached out and grabbed one, crawling further in to the center of the bed and sitting up on his knees.

Widening his thighs, Aaron pushed the pillow between his legs and straddled it, squeezing his legs together and crushing his cock firmly against the material. Hesitantly he braced himself on his hands against the bed. For a moment he just held himself there, breathing raggedly. This was so wrong. He was a fucking freak. And here he was, about to get off by humping a fucking pillow between his legs, and that was just as humiliating as any of it.

But all the shame in the world was not succeeding in talking him out of it. He wanted it too much. Slowly, Aaron started to move, squeezing his eyes closed as he rocked his hips slowly against the pillow. His cock slid in short thrusts against the material, and every movement made the skirt slide against his thighs.

"Sissy," he muttered aloud, trying it out. He felt his skin glow hot. But his cock throbbed at the same time. "Girl."

He groaned softly, rocking harder against the pillow, his thighs flexing and squeezing it tighter between them. He was such a slut, getting off like this. Not a real man. Just a slut, rubbing off against a pillow. He slid his hand up his inner thigh and imagined it was someone else pushing their way beneath the skirt to touch him. He wanted someone to molest him. He wanted someone to push the skirt up around his hips and fuck him, use him, like a whore. Aaron whimpered and thrust against the pillow harder, his hips rutting frantically against it.

He came with his mouth open on a soundless gasp, thighs clenching, his head falling back as his spine bowed. For a long minute he couldn't move as his body spasmed and he emptied himself against the pillow and the thin fabric of the skirt. At last, he took in a deep, shuddering breath.

Aaron held himself up on his arms, trembling all over. Then he got up and got dressed. He bundled up the skirt and stuffed it in the darkest corner of his closet, and he went back to pretending it never happened.