A Fishing Trip, But I’m The Bait Ch. 02


In the first part of this tale you’ll find that I took an innocent trip to go fishing that was to change my life. At the end of that encounter I found myself in the thrall of an older man who left me two options: to bug out and pretend nothing had ever happened or accept his terms for sex. Although I had been left in tears by the experience, they were tears of confusion and frustration and when I was invited to leave a secret note of acceptance, I was pleased to do so.


Paul had instructed me to shave my pubic hair and under my arms, but in truth I hardly needed to, since I was blond I had only wispy hair down there and my chest was bare. I had only recently started to shave my face, much to my mother’s annoyance for she must have wanted to keep me as her little boy for ever. I was blessed with great skin and had an unblemished complexion that made my older sisters envious. In short I was a prime candidate for what Paul had in mind.

It was mid-morning when I returned from my first trip and so no one was home: perfect! I dropped my fishing gear in my room on my way to the bathroom where I knew I was going to be quite busy. I had fretted a little over shaving myself for fear of discovery but then, apart from an emergency trip to the hospital, who would ever see ( apart from Paul of course )?

Once I locked the door behind me I stripped off and looked at myself in the vanity mirror. I could see dried flecks of Paul’s come peeling off my skin and the strands of matted hair that he had tried to clean and my mind slipped back to that moment, till I found a huge smile spreading over my face. I plucked at those little pieces of Paul and sniffed my fingers. Ah! There was still a smell. I popped my fingers into my mouth, but there was little taste.

With a sigh I turned to face the full length mirror and ran my hands over my front and side profiles, looking anew at the body with which I was already so familiar but now I was seeing with new eyes. I reached under my legs and pulled my little prick and balls out of view and, crossing my legs slightly to keep them in place, I saw the curves of a young girl with long legs, slim waist and shoulders that suggested a girl who maybe swam: not muscled, but toned. The only thing that didn’t measure up was the fuzz of pubic hair and the razor beckoned.

I ran a hot bath and put in a few drops of the oil my sisters used. I intended to take a long soak but was impatient to shave, so after I had scrubbed with a loofah, I stood up and reached for the foam and a razor. The warm, soft feeling of the foam was exquisite as I smoothed it over my pubis and gave me a hard on that could not be ignored. I started masturbating with long, liquid strokes, letting my hand run down my shaft, over my balls and then underneath, before running slowly up, letting my balls slither back into place with a thick coating of foam. I ran my other hand behind, between my cheeks and past my puckered entrance where I let the fingers meet. The sensations were too much for patience and whilst my left hand wandered, my right hand rushed me to orgasm. My hips began to sway and I had to lean on the wall or lose my balance. My mouth opened in a silent call and short strings of come burst from me, streaking the tiles with little white beads of joy. I sank back down to kneel in the water and felt my head fizzing as the heat of my orgasm spread through my body in waves.

My mood changed a little as the glow faded from me. I reflected on what I was contemplating, feeling torn between the guilt of ‘should’ and the lust of ‘want’. Luckily there was another thought that sprang to my mind, “I wonder how my cock would look without hair?” and I let my curiosity guide me instead.

I took the razor and shaved a path through the golden hair from the base of my cock upward. “There,” I thought. “May as well finish the job now.” In a few minutes of very, very careful work I became preteen in appearance and my cock was again stiff and getting in the way of the final strokes of the blade. I finished up by shaving my under-arms and rinsed under the showerhead as the bath drained away the evidence.

I dried off and, wrapped in a bath towel, I tiptoed into my sister Laura’s bedroom. I pinched a couple of items of make up from her dresser and a handful of body cream and snuck back to my room. I carefully rubbed the cool liquid over my new naked balls and pubis, noting that all the temporary doubts of my conscience were melting away. I was determined to go through with this, wherever it led.

I had another task to carry out on my body for Paul had complained that my ‘cunt’ was too tight. I wasn’t too happy with the name as it seemed a bit brutal and I felt maybe ‘pussy’ sounded better to me: it was what Laura called hers. I knew this because I’d read her diary. [ Ooops – did I just admit to that? ]

I’d already figured out how to do this because I’d experimented with plain white household candles but Paul’s prick was much bigger so I’d kütahya escort have to trim a big Christmas candle to shape. I found a suitable one in a cupboard when I had the house to myself and began to whittle it into shape with my fishing knife. I took the flame of another candle to smooth the edges and couldn’t wait to try it in my mouth for size. I’d given it a head about an inch and half across, which looked about right and I raced back to my bedroom to try it. I undressed and smeared the head of the candle with Vaseline before standing it on a mirror I’d positioned on the floor before lowering myself onto it. My little pussy stubbornly refused entry. When I pushed hard it just tore at my skin so I applied more Vaseline around my little hole and tried again. Oow! This was getting me nowhere and I was fearful I was going to tear myself.

I decided to reshape it so that it tapered from its tip to the thick base and so allow me to force my pussy open: it didn’t look like a dick anymore but this would be a better training device. Back in my room I reapplied the Vaseline and squatted once again. This time I felt the muscles relax and I watched as the hard tool slipped inside me, my pale skin pierced by rigid, tapered shaft. I pushed down hard until the pain stopped me abruptly. I froze in fear, knowing that if I panicked and jumped off too fast the pain would be even worse. Surely I must have stretched myself by now? I counted to ten then slowly eased myself upward. Almost immediately the burning ache returned and had to stop. After a pause to let the cramp subside, I allowed another half inch to slip out. There was less pain now and I began to feel more in control. A bit more and my muscles quickly expelled the remainder of the candle. I rolled forward, resting my head on the floor with my bottom in the air and put pressure on my pussy to comfort it. As I began to recover I examined my hand, wondering fearfully for a moment if the was any blood on it. Though there was none I decided it would be sensible to take the next two days to train myself gradually. Imagine if I had to take that emergency trip to hospital with a shaved pussy!

By Thursday evening I was becoming more practised and although the training candle still stretched me to the limit, there was much less pain. I took another bath that evening and shaved again to be completely smooth for Paul the next day. I put my fishing gear by the front door and kissed my mother good night at just after nine. She was a little surprised how seriously I was taking this new hobby but was pleased I had something to fill my days before college.

The dawn was overcast and by the time I arrived at the river it was raining. There were no cars parked in the lane but I knew there might be some other fishermen around, so I would have to be careful I wasn’t seen. I shouldered my bag and casually walked along the river’s edge, before taking the path to the old buildings.

My heart was thumping as I approached the surrounding drift of nettles and made my way to the doorway. I pushed the door open and peered into the dim interior. I thought I must have beaten Paul to it but then I saw a bag on the old sofa that I didn’t recognise. Still wary of my surroundings I picked my way across the rubbish-strewn floor as silently as I could. From the middle I could see into the next room and once I realised I really was alone I could relax and turn to the bag. I held it up to gauge its weight and perhaps guess at the contents. It may have been left by Paul but what if someone else used the building as a hang-out? I undid the drawstring and looked in. I pulled out some fabrics and found they were girl’s clothes. I sniffed them and was surprised to find they smelt fresh and clean in contrast to the damp, musty room. At the bottom of the bag was a note.

“Hi Jane

I hope you like the outfit and have made the changes I suggested? I have put a couple of blankets in the next room in case you get cold but I should be along by 7 so you should have plenty of time to make yourself ready for me.


I found the blankets and spread them over the dirty covering of the sofa and then laid out my new outfit. There was a white blouse, a singlet ( Paul obviously recognised I didn’t need a bra ) a short grey pleated skirt, long white socks, a maroon cardigan and matching maroon sandals and finally a pair of regulation dark blue knickers. Very plain knickers I thought, though they did have a little bow at the front to distinguish them from something entirely unisex.

Paul evidently wanted me to play a role much younger than my true age but nevertheless I was excited by the idea of dressing up. I checked my watch and saw that I had over 30 minutes, so I decided fix my makeup first without dirtying my new clothes. I went over to the big old mirror leaning against the wall and rubbed a clean patch out of the grime. If I was to be so young I only needed a little enhancement so, taking my borrowed kohl malatya escort pencil I applied a subtle line on my lower eyelids. Lip colouring would be a mistake so instead of my sister’s pink lipstick I used a little Vaseline to my lips that gave them a simple shine. ‘That’s it’, I thought pursing my lips at the mirror. Hair! I nearly forgot. I combed the parting from my hair and brush it forward evenly so that I had a low fringe over my forehead and did my best to hide my ears. Hmm. That didn’t quite work so I leant forward and shook my hair out and just let it settle back naturally. Tousled was much better!

I turned back to my new outfit and began to undress in the cold damp air for it was still raining outside and drops of water fell into a puddle in the corner of the room. Although I knew I was alone ( I would surely have heard anyone approach ) when I came to take off my knickers the feeling of embarrassment made me stoop forward out of habit as if unseen eyes were spying on me. I quickly pulled on my new girls’ knickers with a shiver and replaced my socks with the knee-length girl’s ones. Now I was half boy, half girl, with my maleness hidden from view and my girls legs partly covered by my old sweatshirt. I slipped this off and replaced it with the singlet that hung shapelessly from my shoulders. It took me a second or two to realise my white cotton blouse buttoned left-handed, which made it awkward but the fit was pretty good and even the cuffs had plenty room. Finally I stood into my grey skirt and adjusted it to hang comfortably off my hips. The sandals were a size out and my toes were pinched when I tightened up the straps.

I was surprised how the cold air washed up my bare legs, leaving me feeling still only half dressed. The thin cardigan helped a little but I found myself sitting on the edge of the sofa with my legs pressed together and my arms folded in front of me. I was even sitting like a girl! Maybe this was why, if gilrs felt this cold all the time?

I pulled the blanket over my knees, but then swung my legs together beside me on the cushion: much more lady-like. The time crept past slowly and I sat gloomily, resting my chin on the back of my hand as I leaned onto the arm of the chair. Raindrops fell from the gutter over the door like a beaded curtain but apart from that background all was quiet. I watched a little spider make its way along the arm of the chair oblivious to my presence until I began a game of making it climb over my finger. Absorbed in the game I was startled when I heard footsteps on the gravel outside.

I leapt up in a panic, wondering if it were Paul or a stranger and hid inside the doorway of the other room. I heard the outer door being dragged open and someone scuff in over the floor.

“I know you’re there Jane: everything is strewn about and …,” Paul stopped to sniff the air. “I can smell you.”

I pivoted round the door-jam into view and there was Paul shaking off his big coat, like Lawrence’s Gamekeeper.

“Hello you,” he greeted me with a broad smile. “Hell – you look gorgeous! Come here, come here.”

He waved me towards him and I stepped to within a few feet of him with my hands clasped behind my back. I gave him a slow twirl to let him have the full picture.

“Well my dear: I’m lost for words. You are such a pretty girl.”

“Do you… do you really think so?” I laughed as I skipped right up to him. “I wasn’t sure. Am I what you want?”

I turned to face the mirror and examined my reflection. Paul moved behind me, towering over me so tall that he could look right over my head to share the view. He rested his hands on my shoulders and dipped his nose into my hair.

“Mmm. Apples,” he spoke quietly and ran his mouth over my ear, his tongue darting out to touch my lobe, making me shiver and pull away.

“Yes… apples,” I spoke the words dreamily as his tongue was now tracing a delicate line down my neck. “It’s my sister’s….my hair… yes.. apples.”

He straightened up and, looking again into the mirror, ran his hands gently down my sides, exploring my shape. My skin tingled with his every move. He reached past my hips to the hem of my skirt before making a return stroke that ran up my front, over my tummy and blouse before tracing symmetrical paths up my bare neck and past my ears. I don’t think I breathed. I remember feeling my heart beat so fast in my chest and wanting air like a swimmer stuck underwater.

There was a silence as he drank it the moment.

“Did you -“

“Shave, yes,” I interrupted. “Do you want to see?” I turned to him but as I reached down to my skirt he stopped me.

“Good. And the other thing: did you do something with your cunt?”

I blushed and looked away.

“I did. I used a candle and I .. I tried my best.” I replied with my voice trailing away. “It hurt…”

I looked back into his face and there was the faintest of smiles on his lips.

“We’ll see, my sweet.”

He took manisa escort my hand and led me to the sofa, sitting himself down but making me stand in front of him. He took out a cigarette, lighting it with a match that he threw away without taking his eyes off me.

“Do you want me, Jane?” he asked directly, blowing a column of smoke into the air.

“Yes Paul, I’ve thought of little else,” I answered, a little stung by the question.

“Say it then.”

I paused for effect before replying, “I want you, Paul.”

“What do you want, Jane?”

“I ..want your cock?” I replied, hoping it was the right answer. He nodded.

“I want your cock in my cunt,” I repeated.

“Good, good, Jane. But before we can go further I need to know that it is the girl in you that wants me, not some horny punk. So, here’s how we do this and how we will start all our sessions together. I want you to toss yourself off: however you like, do it over there, but just get rid of the boy and give me the woman. Can you do that?”

I nodded slowly taking in what this meant. Certainly, after I came I usually had a distinct change of mood, but I was in so far I couldn’t back out now.

Paul sensed my hesitation.

“I was forgetting: this is all new to you, isn’t it? I’ll give you a hand this time but it’s important to me that when we make love you are entirely passive. You must give yourself to me, willingly and wantonly. Now here, turn away from me and do what you need to do and I will help.”

As instructed I turned and reached under my skirt to where my little dick was straining for release. I heard Paul stand and unzip himself as I slowly began the play my fingers up and down my dick. As I continued he ran his hands under my skirt and slipped my knickers down my thighs. He put his boot between my feet and kicked them apart a little. I could smell the pungent aroma of his manhood and for a moment the cool air kissed my bottom before I felt the warmth of Paul’s body close to me. His huge, hot prick slid upward against the cool skin of my inner thighs, until it lodged tight under me. I clamped my legs together to grip his member and whilst I quickened the pace of my hand, he held my hips and pushed his cock into the soft grip of my thighs. His hard purple head nudged into my balls and I matched his movements, thrusting my bottom back against him.

It didn’t take me long to despatch myself and I shuddered as my shots of sperm spurted onto the dirt of the floor in front of me.

“All done?” said Paul flatly. I nodded and squeezed the last drops out, shaking my hand clean where some had dribbled over my fingers. I tried to push away the emotions that were crowding into my head: this was all so wrong and I hoped Paul would not look at my face for he would have seen my guilty tears. I wanted to brush them away but I dare not, lest my true feelings be discovered. I swallowed hard to steady myself and tried to concentrate on my task: to be willing and wanting.

“Turn round when you have tidied yourself away,” he said. “I have something else to help you become more feminine.”

My dick was still half hard but I managed to push it out of sight, but as I turned he was reaching into his pocket and barely glanced at my smooth pubis. He had something hidden in his hand but reached up to the neck of my blouse and began to fumble with the buttons. He almost broke the button in his attempts and tutted with annoyance.

“Damned buttons – I should’ve got something with poppers.”

“Here, let me,” I said placing my hands over his. I quickly undid my blouse to the waist and untucked it, leaving only my singlet in place.

“These,” he said, pulling down the neck of the singlet. “These are for your nipples. Let me show you.”

Like a conjuror he produced one of the bulbs and pinched it between his fingers. He held it up to my mouth and told me to lick it, before he put the opening over my nipple. The immediate suction drew at my skin and I could see inside that my nipple was pulled forward as if an unseen mouth was suckling me. He took my other nipple between his lips and gently bit me before positioning the other bulb onto it. I was pleased at the effect and the gentle pressure pulling at my breasts.

“Wear them as much as you can until you have proper tits I can suck. Now, let’s see if you’ve done your homework properly,” he said sitting back down and turning me around. He took the back of my skirt and tucked it into the waistband and nuzzled the bristly skin of his mouth into the soft flesh of my bottom. I stifled a moan as his tongue darted between my cheeks and reached my rosebud. He spread my cheeks apart with his thumbs and began to trace broad circular strokes with his tongue. Any remaining guilt quickly evaporated as I was overcome my his alternating warm wet tongue and teasing flicks over my sensitive opening so that I pushed back onto him, demanding he lick me harder again.

He held me away as I gyrated my hips and arched my back to offer my bottom to him. He’d taken out a tube of gel and when he buttered my pussy with his finger it was so cold it made me cry out in surprise. He took a bigger dollop and spread it between my cheeks and forward under my balls.