GIRLIFIED: 15 BOOKS MEGA BUNDLE

by Nikki Crescent

  “That little slut,” Rachael said again.

  We watched as the redhead barebacked Sarah’s tight boy-pussy. We could hear Sarah moaning after just a couple of minutes. Admittedly, she looked pretty good with a cock pressed into her asshole. She had a cute moaning face, and her orgasm face was even better. “We really shouldn’t be watching this,” I said—but even I couldn’t look away. Rachael didn’t bother justifying my utterance with a response. We were both hypnotised by the sight: one trap fucking another trap.

  “You think Sarah’s done this before?” Rachael asked.

  I shook my head. “No,” I said.

  The redhead pulled out suddenly. She reached down, grabbed her cock, squeezed, and then coated Sarah’s back with a huge load of warm cum. Then she reached down and spread her cum all over Sarah’s back with the palms of her hands. She even bent down and used her tongue to taste her own product. “Damn,” Rachael muttered under her breath. “Maybe now it’s time we get out of here.” Her cheeks were dark red and her eyes were glowing.

  “I agree,” I said. So we carefully ran away from that cabin together. We had to follow our own tracks to find our way back. And I found myself starting to think that I’d been kidnapped and brought to a strange six-month-long sissy orgy camp.

  CHAPTER XI

  I kept expecting the camp to take a turn. I kept expecting to wake up and realize that everything wasn’t perfect, and that the next six months would truly be hell—but I only woke up feeling more and more excited every morning. After two weeks at the camp I felt like I was where I belonged, with people who understood me; and I understood them.

  We all still felt a little bit embarrassed when it came to getting dolled up in the mornings. I would always find myself eyeing the truly sexy little skirts and dresses, but I was still too afraid to put them on, too afraid of what my bunkmates might think of me. But I caught them eyeing up the little outfits.

  It was too cold out for most of the exceptionally skanky outfits, but there would be time for those in a few months, near the end of our six month stay at the sissy camp.

  It was hard to believe all of the senior campers when they told us that the six months would fly by, but it started to sink in at the end of the first two weeks. I still felt like I’d just arrived at the camp as I woke up on that two-week anniversary—time was already flying by.

  But also, when I woke up on that two-week anniversary, I realized it had been two weeks since I’d heard from my family. I wondered if my parents told my sister what had happened to me, or if she was just left terribly confused. I felt bad—I never got to say goodbye to her. She was in her senior year of high school—she would be graduating before I was done at camp, and before I was taken away from home she’d been applying to colleges in different countries. There was a good chance that she would be gone before I got home—and it might be a year or two before I see her again.

  So I found myself trying to track down a phone. I wanted to call her and let her know that I was okay. I wanted to see if she’d gotten into any of the colleges she’d applied for. I wanted to feel like I still had family in the world.

  I went to a few of the resident cabins, asking if they had phones. I got a lot of strange looks. “They took away our phones,” I was told more than once.

  “But you don’t have a landline here? Have any of you talked to your families since you got here?” I asked—and I got terribly blank stares in return. Everyone was cut off, and only a few people had even thought about contacting their families since arriving. I found out very quickly that many of the traps at the sissy camp weren’t very close with their families—and many of them were excited to be far, far away from their families. But that’s not what I wanted. I still loved my parents, even if they didn’t understand my secret sissy obsession.

  “What if there’s an emergency? How do they call the police?” I asked.

  “There’s a landline in the main cabin, but we aren’t allowed to use it. It’s in the room where the camp leader sleeps—and when she’s not in the room, they keep it locked,” said one of the senior campers, who was just two weeks away from being sent home.

  I had a feeling that no one had ever asked to use the phone. It seemed like everyone was perfectly content in their blissful utopia. No one wanted to destroy the illusion by contacting the outside world and breaking character for just a couple of minutes. I went down to the main cabin and I knocked on the camp leader’s door. It was a few seconds before she answered. “Can I help you, Brenna?” she said. I was surprised that she already knew my name. There were tons of sissies at the camp—it would have been very impressive if she knew everybody’s name.

  “I was wondering if I could use the phone,” I said.

  She shook her head before I even finished my question. “That’s not allowed. I’m sorry. Is there some sort of emergency?”

  “I just wanted to talk to my family,” I said.

  She made a friendly smile and put her hand on my shoulder. “Feeling homesick?” she asked.

  “No. Well, maybe a little bit. Is there not anyway I can contact my parents—or even just my sister?” I asked.

  “I’m afraid not. That’s strictly against the rules here. But don’t worry—your family knows that you’re safe. Try not to stress out too much—just try to enjoy the camp while you’re here. The six months goes by very fast, you know.”

  I forced a smile. “That’s what everyone keeps telling me.”

  So I went back to join my bunkmates at our cabin. But it wasn’t even a full week later when I found myself stressing out again. This time I was worried that the camp leader was wrong, that my family didn’t know if I was okay or not. How could they know? Was the camp leader calling all of the parents on a regular basis? Was she telling them that I was okay? And if she was calling them, was she telling them that we were all living like girls—getting dolled up every single day? If my dad knew, he would have driven to that camp and picked me up himself.

  Or had my family just forgotten about me?

  So I started asking the other campers if they knew how I could get into that room, to use the phone. No one had any ideas for me. “I leave next week,” said one of the senior campers. “I can pass along a message to someone for you.”

  I thought about her offer, but I didn’t like the idea of a one-way communication. I wanted to know how my family was doing—I didn’t necessarily want my family to know how I was doing. I certainly didn’t want my dad to know what I was doing, and I’m not sure I wanted him to know that I was having a ton of fun. I wasn’t at the camp to have fun. My dad didn’t pull me out of school and pay whatever he paid for the camp just so I could have tons of fun. But at the same time, I wanted my sister to know that I was okay, just in case she thought that I wasn’t. So I wrote a little note and I put my sister’s phone number on the note. “Just call her when you get a chance,” I said.

  “I’ll call her as soon as I get back to civilization,” she said with a smile.

  And I didn’t think about reaching out to my family again until the next week came, and it was time for the senior campers to leave.

  We all gathered at the camp’s main gate. The bus was all revved up and ready to go. There were lots of teary eyes in the crowd: lots of hugs, lots of kisses. One girl was begging the camp staff: “Please let me stay! I don’t want to go back. I want to stay here. I’ll do anything. Maybe I can work here—do you need any more staff?”

  They got everyone loaded up on the bus, and then the camp leader came out from the main cabin and made an announcement. “No one will be leaving today. There is a terrible snowstorm and all of the main highways are closed. I’m afraid we’re all stuck here until further notice.”

  And now there were many big glowing smiles in the crowd. The seniors’ sissy experience would continue for at least a few days. And those few days turned into a week, and then two weeks. And no one ever questioned whether or not it was true: was there really a bad snowstorm? Had the highways really
been closed for two weeks? Even I didn’t start to question it until the camp leader made her announcement after two weeks: “They’re still working on clearing the highways. They got more snow than ever before.” I thought it was strange, especially since we’d hardly gotten any new snow in the past month.

  And I started thinking about my family again—and my sister, who was probably still wondering if I was okay. I was worried that note I wrote was never going to get out, so I started trying to find a way to access that phone again.

  Chloe pulled me aside after she overheard me asking around. “There’s no way you’re getting to that phone,” she said quietly, as if she didn’t want anyone to overhear her. “But there’s a way to access the Internet. Maybe you could message your sister on Facebook or through e-mail.”

  “How?” I said.

  “You can’t tell anyone that I told you.”

  “Of course—just tell me how.”

  She smiled. “If I tell you, will you suck me off and eat me out?” she asked.

  I felt a warm buzzing run down my arms and legs. I hadn’t touched a cock since I’d last sucked Chloe off, but I was excited to give it another go. “Sure,” I said with a sly smile of my own.

  “Pay up first, and then I’ll tell you,” she said.

  So we snuck away to one of the many isolated cabins in the woods around the camp. I got Chloe onto a bed and then I flipped up her skirt and tugged down her panties. I couldn’t get that cock into my mouth fast enough. I’d been fantasizing about sucking cock for weeks, since I was last with Chloe. I’d been too afraid to ask her if I could do it again, worried she would think that I was a slut—even though I was starting to think that I was a slut. Many of the other sissies in the camp had been fucking on a daily basis. The cabins were almost always occupied. I’d lost count of how many times I walked into our own bunkroom to find my bunkmates sucking and fucking one another.

  Chloe’s cock was just as satisfying as I remembered. Her asshole was tight. It was hard to get my tongue inside of her, but after a bit of fingering, she loosened up. I loved the way that she moaned while I ate her out and fingered her hole, so I kept going. I got two fingers inside of her, and then I got three inside of her. She was moaning louder and louder. I sat up and looked down into her eyes while I pumped her bum with my fingers. “Do you like—” Before I could finish, her cock suddenly burst cum all over the inside of her skirt. A few streaks even shot as far up as her chin. She groaned and squirmed and once she was done, I slowly slipped my fingers out from her stretched hole. She had a big red-cheeked smile on her face. “That was amazing,” she said. “You need to let me do that to you sometime.”

  My heart skipped a beat. I was still terrified of the thought of being penetrated. I wasn’t sure my tight virgin asshole could handle it—though I knew I was probably the only sissy at that camp who hadn’t been fucked in the ass. I’d even caught Rachael with a well-hung trap from another cabin. I walked in on her while she was clutching the bed sheets and moaning loudly. She looked at me with a terribly embarrassed look. Her cock was erect and dripping pre-cum.

  “So to access the Internet,” Chloe said, “You need to grab one of the new tablets. They’re equipped with 3G.”

  “3G? But surely there’s no data or reception out here,” I said.

  “Not here, but if you hike three hours up the mountain, there’s a spot where you can get a bit of data—enough to get onto Facebook to send a message or two. Though the hike might be tough right now, with all the snow. A few of us would go up during the summer, so we could touch base with our friends.”

  The main cabin had a bunch of tablets for the campers to use. There were movies and TV shows loaded onto the tablets, and the tablets could be booked out—though there was always a bit of a waiting list to get one, even though the tablets were mostly just loaded with rom-coms and soap operas. So that afternoon, I went and put my name down on the waiting list for one of the tablets, and I just hoped that I would get one of the new ones. And two days later, I did get my hands on one of the new ones.

  It was a cold day, but I was feeling more determined than ever to reach my sister, to see how the family was doing. So I snuck away from the camp and I started the long hike up that mountain. And Chloe was right—it wasn’t easy with all of the snow and ice. I had to walk carefully, and I nearly slipped dozens of times. The trail wasn’t meant to be hiked during the winter. There was a long stretch of path that teetered over a tall cliff, and the path was slicked with ice. So I moved carefully, my heart pounding the whole time. It took nearly five hours before the borrowed tablet showed a single bar of data reception. I sat down on a rock and I logged into my Facebook. It took a few minutes for the page to load. I tried to send a message to my sister, but the messages kept failing to send. I tried hiking further up the trail, but the reception only got worse.

  So I found myself back at that rock, trying again—but I still had no luck. Every attempt to send a message came back with, “Unable to send message. Please check your connection and try again.” But I was able to load her Facebook page after about twenty minutes of holding the tablet above my head. And I was shocked to see a news article that she’d shared: “Dozens of young men still missing after suspected abduction.”

  I tapped on the article and waited for another heart-pounding ten minutes as the article loaded. And I couldn’t believe what I was reading. Apparently a bus full of young men on their way to a religious camp had been stolen. The bus was found abandoned on the side of the highway, but none of the young men had been found. The date of the apparent abduction was the exact date of my departure. And supposedly this was the second bus that had been stolen in the past seven months.

  So it was true—we really had been kidnapped. This really wasn’t the camp that we were supposed to be at.

  CHAPTER XII

  My heart was still pounding when I returned to the camp. I was cold and sweaty and exhausted, and it was late, but I wasn’t going to go to bed until I found Chloe. She was just getting ready for bed when I slipped into her cabin. She looked me up and down and asked, “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” I said. “I need to talk to you. I just discovered something terrible.” I made her follow me down the path, even though it was brutally cold now. I looked back to make sure no one was around, and then I told her that we’d been abducted. “This isn’t the camp we’re supposed to be at,” I said.

  She stared into my eyes for a moment, and then she started to laugh. “Wait—are you serious?”

  “Yes—I have the article up right here. It’s even got my name on it at the end, with dozens of other names. Your real name is probably on here too.”

  “No, I mean, did you seriously not know about this? I thought everyone knew about this,” she said. And she was staring into my eyes with a confused grin. And was she serious? Was this common knowledge? Did people just not care? “They didn’t rescue us, Brenna—they saved us. Do you have any idea what they do at those camps? They basically torture kids for six months, and then you practically leave lobotomized.”

  “My family probably thinks that I’m dead,” I said.

  “And maybe that’s for the best. Maybe your male persona needs to die so that your true female self can be free,” she said. My heart stuttered. It was an attractive thought: to be completely free, to start again fresh in a body that I was happy with. I finally felt like I belonged—and the sissy camp was giving me the chance to have that forever. “One of the other girls overheard the camp leader talking to some of the other staff. There’s no snowstorm. They’re going to spend the next year slowly breaking the news to us that everyone thinks we’re dead. And then they’re going to work on rehoming us. They’ve even got a connection with the government—they’re going to get us real IDs and everything. They really are saving us, Brenna.”

  “But what about my family?” I said.

  “It’s a small sacrifice. Besides—does your family really love you? Would they really send you to on
e of those horrible camps if they actually cared about you?” I had to think about it. If the camp was as bad as she was saying, then maybe she was right. But what if she was wrong? What if she just thought the religious camp was bad because her head had been filled with propaganda? It would make sense that people running the sissy camp would want us all to think that they were saving us—surely that’s common with people who abduct young people.

  Chloe gently took my hand. “I can tell that you’re not sold,” she said. “I think I can help.” She led me down the path—far away from the camp and into the forest. It was very dark, so we moved carefully. And the air was getting very cold. My fingers and toes were starting to hurt.

  “Where are we going?” I asked.

  “A secret place,” she said.

  It was a ten-minute hike through that cold forest before we ended up at another isolated cabin in the woods. But this one was much older than the others. Overgrown weeds and bushes kept it mostly hidden, and the roof was caving in on one side. I wasn’t sure if it was safe to go inside, but Chloe insisted that it was fine.

  The inside of the cabin was surprisingly clean. It was dark until Chloe located a lighter. She lit a few candles and then she spent the next ten minutes getting a fire started in the old stone chimney. “No one knows about this place—just a few of us. I’m not even sure that the camp leader knows about it,” she said. “But no one will find us here. And there’s a path on the other side of the cabin—it’s probably an eight-hour walk, but it will get you to the highway. If you really feel like you’ve been wronged, you can start the hike in the morning. No one will try to stop you. If anyone asks where you are, I’ll tell them that you went for a hike up the mountain.”