Tgirl

I wasn't totally disoriented. I roughly knew the distance to the
airport. When we slowed down in a certain long turn, I knew we were
entering LAX. We stopped at a checkpoint. It was nice to know the
driver could drive civilized if he had to. We rolled along for a few
more minutes, then stopped. My wet skin felt the rumble of jet engines
vibrating the metal floor. The door slid open.

"Two she-men bound for Holland.", he said.

The other guy was grabbed first. Then I felt a man's large hands on my
waist. I inhaled and tried to stop my newly hardening cock from rising
so no one could see my trace of excitement at all this domination.

I felt the sun on my body as I got carried up the steps. Only five. A
private jet. Before I knew it, I was thrown into a padded seat and
belted in.

"Tighter, girl boy?", said a new male voice.

I pictured him as the worst macho slob imaginable. He pulled the belt
as tight as it would go, four inches beyond discomfort.

"Flat as a fucking board.", the driver said.

"Too much of a wimp to make it, I say. She'll never go through with
it.", answered the slob.

"Look at the other one. Gynecomastia. What's the matter, son?
Breastfeed for too long?"

The other guy yelled through his towel gag.

"Have a good flight, cocksuckers!", they said in falsetto. I could hear
them blowing kisses. They left and I heard the van rev up and drive off
as the jet's door closed. Someone else was in the cabin with us.

I felt the jet rotate. The engines got louder. My waist hurt from the
seatbelt. My arms were sore from the cuffs. The plane accelerated. It
felt like going West. The bag on my head was hot, and all the moisture
from my wet hair made it terribly humid. The runway seemed to go on
forever, then we took off. The landing gear retracted and we made a
gentle rising turn to the northeast.

"Can I help you, Robert?", asked a female voice.