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Irie bumps into her celebrity crush.
He felt helpless, and good, scared and spent.
When he was done cumming in her mouth, his penis growing soft, she slipped her fingers out of him, and kissed him on the lips, pushing him back onto the mattress with her body, licking into his mouth with her tongue.
"Let's finish getting you dressed, little boyfriend," she told him, pulling away. "You need to be pretty for me. Let's get you in that wig I got for you."
Richard had doubts that he was what you would call pretty.
He was, though, dressed up as something that would attract a good amount of attention. His boots were hard to walk in, the heels were so high, his legs were very cold since his skirt was almost up to his hips. He had been made to wear a very sheer blouse, and she had stuffed the bra so full of stuffing that he felt he probably looked garish.
She had permitted him a thin jacket, though.
And then she had flown him to one of the worst parts of the City, and dropped him off on the street.
"Just walk around," she said. "Attract attention. You'll get plenty of it here. I'll be watching you from up high, I won't let anyone hurt you too much."
"Can I go home afterwards?"
"We'll see. If I get her, then I won't need you anymore. Maybe you can go home then."
"Her? Who? What am I looking for?"
"Shh. Just don't forget, I've got my eye on you the entire time. Don't try and run, or I'll catch you, and hurt you. Got it?"
Richard nodded, shivering in the cold.
She turned away, crouched, ready to leap up into the black night again. Before she did so, though, she turned around again and looked at Richard, shivering in the night.
He stared at her.
"I mean, is that what you want to do? Just go home?"
He didn't know what she was talking about.
"You wouldn't want to, I don't know, stay with me? When he's not there? Is that something you would want?"
Richard's jaw was slack. He shook his head.
"I don't - "
She frowned, her eyes narrowing.
"Forget it, boyfriend," she spat. "Just forget it. Don't worry about it- you just move your little ass out there, and get me what I want. Pussy! Faggot."
She turned and leapt into the sky.
Richard watched her fly.
What the fuck.
He looked around. Some cars driving, some people walking.
He was scared and alone. He didn't want to be pretty anymore.
He picked a direction and went.
It didn't take long.
Richard walked past a group of three guys, who were sitting on a porch drinking something from a bottle that they were passing around, the air thick with smoke around them. His face burned with embarrassment as he passed them, hoping against hope that they somehow hadn't noticed him.
Knowing from the way they fell silent as he walked by, though, that they had in fact noticed him.
And then knowing shortly afterwards that they were following him.
He wasn't sure if he would be able to outrun them in any circumstances, and certainly not in the heeled boots she had told him made his ass look delicious.
Richard looked up into the night sky, looking for the Fist. But she was nowhere to be seen.
The three men followed Richard, who pulled his jacket tighter, and tried to hurry.
It wasn't long until they had him cornered in an alley, far away from the street and the cars.
"What is this," the first of them said. "What is this, exactly?"
"One of them transgenders, I'd say," another answered.
"What is that exactly?"
"Not sure. Maybe we need to have a look under that skirt."
Richard backed into the wall, and shook his head no.
"Come on, guys," he was babbling. He kept looking up, seeing nothing.
"I better not see some dick under that skirt. I have no idea what I'll do if there's some dick under there. I'll probably freak the fuck out."
"You got a dick under there, sweetheart?"
Richard didn't know what the best answer to that questi