The Little Red Dress by Don Julian Winslow
Cinderella found that a magic slipper had the power to transform her from a scullery maid into a princess. And maybe, just maybe, some of the same magic still takes place when a quite ordinary young girl steps into her first prom dress and is transformed from girl-next-door to a ravishing beauty. Such is the power of clothes.
When an overly-zealous government goes on a crusade to stamp out sexy clothing, a group of fun-loving girls stumble upon a stash of banned clothes. Soon they are trying on the sexy things and brazenly showing them off – with predictable results. The clothes work their seductive magic, and in no time the erotic contagion spreads, eventually corrupting the very government officials who are publicly demanding restrictions on behavior between the sexes, while privately cavorting about in the most provocative, outrageous dress.
“Wildly thrilled, he grabbed for her, his greedy hands cupping to fit Jodi’s tight cheeked bottom, rubbing his palms over the slick tight-fitted seat of her silvery panties. He spent a few moments thus engaged, fondling the girl’s rear-end, while she, feeling the rising heat of arousal, squirmed excitedly, grinding her butt in his hungry hands. A playful swat at that jutting bottom causes her to jack up and turn, regarding him over her shoulder with a little pout on her lips.”
Lots of M/f, spanking, punishment, sexy dressing, exhibitionism, and sex including anal and oral.
Torri sat splay-legged on the storage room floor, surrounded by discarded plastic bags and heaps of old-fashioned clothes and accessories from a time now largely forgotten — except by the privileged few who had been granted access to the archives.
She was intently studying the small screen set up before her, pictures of advertisements that showed the fashions of that by-gone era. Since their find, Jodi had done some research work, and had come upon old advertisements. She even went so far as to secretly download some images from the archives, and then smuggle them out of the college library in her pocket pc. The two girls poured over the contraband images in the dim light of the storage unit. By piecing together the evidence, they quickly saw how the strange accouterments seemed to go together in various combinations.
A full-length mirror they had found in a corner had been dusted it off, and moved over into the light of day. And now Torri looked up to see Jodi who, having removed her tunic and let her baggy jeans collapse down her lithe white legs, stood beside the mirror in nothing but her underwear. It was not the first time Torri had seen her girlfriend in her underwear: the pale slender body banded by the serviceable gray cotton briefs, and the thick elastic of the bandeau that confined and flattened her maidenly breasts. Jodi was bending down to pick up the red dress.
“You know, if you’re gonna get dressed up like this and all, shouldn’t you go all the way?”
“Underwear too. Come on. Don’t you want to try this on?” she asked, fingering a pair of cream-colored panties that the girls now knew were worn by F-guys of long ago underneath their dresses.
Jodi grinned, and with a ‘why not’ nod of her head, snatched up the flimsy lace offering. Hurriedly, she skimmed down her standard briefs, tossed them aside, stepped into the silky panties, and drew them up, all in one quick motion.
Jodi tugged on the waistband, pulled the odd underwear up around her waist. The panties seemed to fit well, although they were definitely a bit skimpy in covering her behind. She hooked a finger into a legband to nudge an escaping rearcheek back into place, then ran her hands over her flaring hips and around, curved palms lightly caressing the silken contour of the taut slick seat. Jodi decided she rather liked the feel of her sex nestled in the cool silk, and gave an extra tug on the front to tighten the crotch.
“Well?” Torri asked.
“Yeah. Not bad,” Jodi pronounced. “What about the ban?”
“I think the ban gotta go. You should see if one those ‘brassiere’ thingys will fit you. I think I saw one over here.”
Jodi casually stripped her bandeau off over her head, freeing a pair of taut little breasts that settled in place with a jiggly wobble, then, bare-breasted, joined her friend pawing through the mounds of treasures in the hunt for the perfect brassiere. This became a major operation as they found that brassieres came in a bewildering variety of sizes and colors and designs. Unlike the simple bandeau worn by modern F-guys these old-time contraptions were awkward with their flimsy straps and hooks, and at first they required some assistance to climb into.
After trying on several examples with Torri’s help, Jodi found there a kind of knack to it, and soon she began to move instinctively: slipping her arms through the delicate shoulderstraps, coaxing her small tits into the cups, reaching back till blind fingers found, and learned how to deftly secure, the little clasp — all without Torri’s assistance.
Eventually, they found the perfect fit, a delicate thing in dusky pink satin, with lacy embroidery edging the flimsy half-cups, and narrow ribbons of silk for shoulderstraps. Jodi cupped her holstered tits, adjusting the bra on her slim chest, lightly hefting her pert bosom as she tested the comfort of the fit. It felt strange — having her breasts cradled in slippery satin and raised to stick out in prominent display like this. She rather liked it! She looked at herself in the mirror. She felt….well…kinda sexy.
She studied the subtle feminine curves of her profile in a side view, then turned her back to the mirror and looked at herself over her shoulder.
“Well, whadaya think?’ she asked her best friend.
“Weird,” Torri opined, “but kinda nice.”
“Gimme the dress.”
The slender girl took the fabric in both hands, looked it over, held it one way and another before deciding that it went on over the head. She worked her way into the ancient red garment, and let it slide down her slithering body.
The little dress turned out to be a sleeveless affair, with shoulderstraps, a modest scooped neck that permitted a just a bit of cleavage, and a hemline that rode no more than a third of the way down the girl’s bare thighs.
“And that’s it? You go around like that? I mean, with nothing on your arms and legs?” Torri asked, mildly shocked. The garment left as much exposed as a bodysuit one would wear at the beach!
Jodi, still gazing in the mirror, paid no attention. “Here, pull up this zipper thing.” And as Torri went behind her to help with the zipper, Jodi adjusted the shoulder straps and ran her hands down her front, tugging the dress down, smoothening the soft red fabric into place. The thin dress seemed made for her slim, small-breasted body. It flowed down, layering the softly curved lines. She looked at herself in the mirror. For a moment, no one spoke, the two of them just stood there looking at the pretty blond girl in the short red dress. Not quite knowing what to make of it.
“There are things you’re supposed to wear on your legs, you know.”
“No, not really. They’re called ‘pantyhose’. We have some around here somewhere.”
Torri shook her head in disbelief as she watched her girlfriend hike up her dress, plunk her bottom down on the floor, then begin squirming and struggling to draw on the stretchy nylon of a pair of pale honey-tinted pantyhose. Jodi managed to get the clingy garment up to her crotch before standing up, hoisting up the skirt, and pulling the pantyhose the rest of the way till the top band of elastic rode above her hips. Jodi stood with hands on her trim hips under the accordiened dress. She found she enjoyed the snug fit of the pantyhose, and after making a few minor adjustments, she let the skirt fall back into place.
“I think this is right,” she said with growing confidence, straightening upright to regard herself in the mirror.
Torri looked her friend over, her eyes trailing down the tall nylon-clad legs, admiring the way the slick stockings seemed to smoothen the lithe feminine contours. She looked at herself standing beside the taller blonde girl in the red dress, and she felt suddenly plain, and rather shabby in her dumpy gray outfit.
“How does it feel?” she ventured.
“I feel kinda….. tingly,” Jodi replied, rubbing a hand down a nyloned thigh and smiling with satisfaction.
Suddenly Jodi turned to her.
“Come on Torri, we got to get you dressed up too.”
“No, let’s finish you first. I’ve been looking this stuff over, and I think you still need a slip.
“What’s a slip?”
Jodi soon found herself hitching up a deliciously frilly thing, satiny smooth, thin and slick and made out of some silvery fabric that slipped like liquid metal between the fingers. The slip had lacy waistband, and at the bottom a generous border of embroidered trim. Jordi had actually discovered the garment and they had puzzled over it for a time, before putting it aside. It was only later that Torri found a picture of it, or something very much like it, in the fashion ads. Neither girl could quite figure out the purpose of the slip, but they knew it was worn under the dress. As it happened what the girls had gotten a hold of was a half-slip, but they had the right idea, and Jodi stepped into it, and pulled it up into place.
Finally, there were the shoes to be considered. That decision was easy. The red pair slipped on easily over Jodi’s nyloned feet, and they seem to go perfectly with the dress. She stood up, feeling slightly uneasy in the stilted stance. She looked at herself in the mirror; looked down at the pointy shoes, that seemed to gleam on her feet, and took her first few tentative steps in high heels.