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The beautiful game - Part 2 - Remastered 02
🕑 Added 2021-07-14 17:51:21 +0000 UTCChapter 2 - The great escape?
“Say cheese, bitch”, Sonja announced, holding up her phone to snap a picture.
Pressing one of his extended nails into his puffy red lips, Milos held his pose, knelt on the pink apartment sofa. A tight denim miniskirt rode high on his pantyhosed thighs, struggling to contain his voluptuous backside, and a tiny boob tube top that barely contained his impressive chest threatened to slip down at any moment.
After meeting Bojana at the club, things had improved slightly for Milos, although he was still expected to spend his evenings flaunting his surgically enhanced body at Marko's nightclub, at least on nights where Bojana was around, he could forget his miserable existence for a few hours and just have fun, dancing and drinking like a normal person.
Life away from the club on the other hand was still a living hell, with Sonja treating him like her own personal dress-up doll and servant. His days were spent struggling to do the cooking, cleaning, and housework around the apartment while dressed in impractical clubwear and sky-high heels, the only clothes he owned now as every outfit in his closet consisted of skin-tight outfits and shoes with towering heels.
Each day went by at a snail's pace with Milos in a zombie-like state, his eyes vacant and distant, and his body on autopilot just going through the motions.
This was his reality now, day after day of being ordered about by Sonja, his only rest bite coming in the form of a photoshoot every few hours.
Decked out in a humiliating outfit, picked out by Sonja, Milos would strike an emasculating pose and try to let his mind go blank. When done, he was forced to choose the best picture and send it off to Marko, only to receive some derogatory comment in return, complimenting him on his boobs or ass.
(See image 2.1)
Still holding a grudge, Sonja continued implementing had also continued implementing her house rules, and now without Coach around to keep her in check, the ones she came up with were crueller and more sadistic than ever.
There was the rule that prevented him from sitting down unless he was posing for a picture or sleeping and If that wasn’t bad enough, another of Sonja’s rules, banning Milos from using the apartment elevator, now forced him to tackle nine flights of stairs each time he needed to enter or leave the building. As a result, his feet and legs were always in a constant state of pain, something he had learnt to accept as being a normal part of his everyday life.
To keep himself sane, Milos got through his interactions with Sonja by imagining her being killed in some cruel and horrific way. Imagining her being set on fire, pushed into a wood chipper, or his personal favourite, torn apart by a pack of wolves after falling into their encloser at the local zoo.
When he wasn’t thinking about Sonja meeting her demise, Milos focussed his efforts on aiding Coach with his plan to escape, dreaming of the day where he would finally be free. The problem was that didn’t seem likely to happen anytime soon. Coach still wouldn’t tell him about his plan and night after night, Milos would watch the drunk skeleton of a man deteriorate further as started to wonder if he was even capable of coming up with a plan these days, never mind implementing it successfully.
but Milos tried not to think that way as it did him no good to think such negative thoughts, he wasn’t ready to give up on Coach just yet, hoping the man he once knew, the man who had saved him from a life on the streets and given him a home, was still in there somewhere.
Their interactions had been fleeting over the last couple of weeks, but every time they spoke, Coach reassured him they would be out of there soon, so for now, Milos was prepared to wait, going through his daily dress-up sessions, apartment chores, entertaining punters at the club or dancing the night away with Bojana.
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A few weeks passed without much changing until one evening as Milos sat on what had become his usual spot in the club, dolled up and dressed all in white, he was given a glimmer of hope.
High as a kite, having taken a handful of pills and copious amounts of alcohol, Milos stared blankly across the room feeling woozy, acutely aware of the material of the sofa gently caress the smooth tanned exposed skin of his back.
Trying to get comfortable, he kept shifting in his seat and readjusting the position of the soft white fur material draped over his shoulders, his legs swishing loudly as his sheer white tights brushed against each other.
He felt very exposed, but that was nothing new, sat there in his short white dress that was mostly see-through with its cut out mesh compartments, designed to show off his impressive cleavage and toned midsection.
With the beat of the music pounding in his ears and his feet aching as usual, squashed inside a pair of tall white six inch-pumps, Milos tried to think of an excuse to not to have to walk another lap of the club.
(See image 2.2)
“Milena”, a voice said from behind, making Milos’ head swivel around as a cascade of blonde hair flew wildly through the air.
Coach stumbled up, leaning against the back of the sofa to keep his footing, “Milena, we’re getting out of here kid, get ready”, he said slurring his words, “we’re leaving tomorrow”.
Milos felt a wave of euphoria wash over him, “Oh thank god, I can’t take another second of this", he gasped, "what’s the plan”?
“I can’t give you all the details right, now, there’s no time”, Coach replied rocking his body back and forth, “but I’ve got it all mapped out, tomorrow is Thursday, right? Meaning Marko will be out like he always is on a Thursday, that’s when we make our move”.
“What do I do”? Milos asked enthusiastically.
“Just do what you usually do until 10.30, act natural and don’t arouse suspicion, I’ve been watching for weeks now and by 10.30 all of Marko’s men will be off the club floor and up in the VIP section”, Coach said before paused for a moment to look around the room in case anyone was watching.
“Tomorrow night, you’re going to complain about stomach pains, especially to Olga”, Coach said miming the action and holding his stomach, “every hour or so you need to run to the bathroom, lock yourself in a cubicle and sit there for about 20 minutes or so, at 10.30 on the dot, make sure you head back to the bathroom and make sure Olga sees you”.
“What!”, Milos gasped, “why would you want her to see me”?
Coach smiled, which wasn’t a pretty sight with both his front teeth missing, “By that point, she will have given up following you, and it should give us a small window of time to make our escape”.
“You’ve thought a lot about this, “Milos said, sounding impressed, “but are you sure it will work”?
“It’ll work, it has to”, Coach replied, “now listen, we don’t have much time, once you’re inside the bathroom, lock one of the cubicles, so that if anyone does come in to look for you, they’ll think you’re inside, here take this”, Coach said, placing a small key in Milos’ palm.
Milos looked up surprised, “Is this for the cubicle? He asked while trying to ball his hand up into a fist but struggling due to his long acrylic tips getting in the way, “how did you get this”?
“I took it off one of the cleaning people a few days back, no one has noticed it’s missing, now put it somewhere out of sight”, Coach announced in a proud voice.
“Err.. ok”, Milos said, pausing for a moment before reaching inside the top of his dress and slipping the key inside next to his left breast.
Looking back up, Milos felt a little embarrassed seeing Coach staring at the top of his dress and his enticing cleavage, “ahem”, Milos announced loudly, watching Coach’s face shoot back up and turn red, “so after I’ve locked the door, what them”?
“Yes, the door”, Coach said regaining his chain of thought, “on the far wall there’s a window, you need to climb through it”.
“What! That window's tiny and it’s like six feet off the ground, I’ll never get through there”, Milos announced in shock.
“It is a bit small, but you need to get through it, it’s the only chance we have”, Coach said nodding “you can do it, I believe in you, once you’re on the other side find the stairwell, the parking lot on the third floor, I’ll meet you there with a car and we’ll get the hell out of here and never look back”.
There was a moment's silence as the two men looked at each other said, before Milos spoke, “wow, you really have thought this through”, he said smiling, “but where will you get the car”?
“Don’t worry about that, you just make sure you make it to the roof, I’ll take care of our ride”, Coach said smiling back at him, “One more day and we’ll be out of here, kid, stay strong”, he added before struggling to his feet and limping away.
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After a restless night, tossing and turning, and a day spent cleaning the oven wearing a tight little mini skirt and ridiculously high heeled boots, Milos was waiting in his room for Olga to take him to the club when the door swung open.
“Hey, slut we need to get a picture for Marko before head off to the club to flaunt that sexy body of yours and flirt with all the boys”, Sonja said, bursting into the room, phone in hand.
Milos didn’t respond, used to her cruel comments at this point. Turning to face her, he put one hand on his hip and brought the other up to cup his right breast, striking a pose.
Sonja started to lift the camera but suddenly stopped as a frown appeared on her face, “Why are you wearing those pants? What happened to the skirt you were wearing earlier, the one that matched that top”?
Milos had been expecting the question, knowing Sonja would notice that he had changed out of the skirt she had picked out for him that morning, in preparation for his climb out of the window later that evening.
“Erm… I’m sorry Sonja, I got it covered in grease earlier while cleaning the oven”, he lied, “I wasn’t sure what would go with this top, but then I remembered something you once said about black going with everything, I thought maybe these pants, would look good with the rest of the outfit”.
Sonja looked confused for a second as Milos wondered if the mention of the advice she had once given him, would be enough for her to allow him to wear the pants out tonight.
“hmm… I did say that didn’t I”? Sonja replied smugly, “I guess you can wear them; they do make that big bubble butt of yours look spectacular”, she added with an evil glint in her eye before lifting her phone once more to eye level and starting to snap pictures.
As Milos posed, he felt great but tried not to show it on his heavily made-up face, It was a small victory but a victory nonetheless, he just wished he could have thought of an equally good excuse to avoid wearing the towering thigh-high boots tightly compressing his legs.
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A few hours later Milos sat on the lap of some greasy haired man. He stunk of alcohol and cigarettes and his large muscular arms, covered in tattoos, were pawing all over Milos’ body. Having a random stranger molesting him was nothing new for Milos, in fact, it was a pretty common nightly occurrence but tonight, stone-cold sober the experience was almost unbearable.
Time seemed to stand still as he focussed his attention on the large clock on the wall behind the bar, watching the seconds tick by as the man, with his hand having slipped through the opening in his tiny top, rubbed his erect nipple between his thumb and forefinger and kissed the side of his neck. “Only two hours to go”, he thought to himself, “I can do this”.
Sticking to the plan, Milos had faked an upset stomach all night, rushing off to the bathroom every hour or so. Olga had followed him on the first two occasions, but on the third and fourth visit, just as Coach had suspected, she'd just left him to it.
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Returning after his fifth trip to the bathroom, Milos looked up at the clock once more, wishing the time away, “45 minutes to go” he thought, trying to psych himself up before returning to the roaming hands of Lazar, his drunken sleazeball companion for the evening.
But as he approached his Sofa, Milos wasn’t greeted by the foul-smelling pervert sat there when he left 20 minutes earlier, instead, In his place sat a much more pleasant but worrying sight.
The first thing he noticed approaching his seat was a tall multicoloured platform ankle boot dangling from a pair of lean sexy legs crossed above the knee. Scanning up further, Milos was greeted with a lot of exposed skin, with the woman’s only piece of clothing being a small white playsuit that looked more like a bikini, barely covering her private area.
The red-haired girl turned, looked straight at him, and smiled.
“Hey. There you are girlfriend, I was waiting for you”, Bojana said running her fingers through her recently dyed hair.
“Oh, hey”, Milos said not expecting to see her, “what happened to the man that was sat here”?
“Oh, he’s long gone, I’ve told Marko to stop making you sit with his perverted clients, man I’m pissed, wait till I see him”. Bojana said looking angry.
“Gone, really, oh”, Milos said looking around, suddenly worried that his plan to escape might be crumbling away in front of his eyes.
“Hey, I can get him back if want”, Bojana said pouting, “I thought you’d be more pleased to see me”.
“No, no, of course, I’m happy to see you and I love your new hair colour, it really suits you”, Milos said trotting over to greet her with a hug, “sorry I’m just a bit grumpy today, I’ve got this really bad stomach, I’ve spent most of the evening in the bathroom”.
“Eww, too much information girl”, Bojana replied pulling a face, “but hey, now that I’ve got rid of that scumbag, you can relax with me for a while, come on sit down, let's catch up".
"Do you really like this colour"? Bojana asked as Milos plopped himself down next to her, "I wanted it to be a more of a vibrant red, but it’s come out a bit ginger, don’t you think”?
Milos and Bojana chatted for a while, talking about fashion and makeup brands until it was time for action. As the large hand on the bar clock dropped to the lowest point in its revolution, Milos looked up at Bojana and grabbed his stomach, “oh, sorry, gotta go again, be back in a minute OK”? he groaned, climbing to his elevated feet before taking off towards the restroom in an awkward stumbling motion.
People stopped to look as Milos tottered by pushing people out of his way, but that was the point as he caught Olga out of the corner of his eye, look up, shake her head before returning to look down at her phone.
Entering the dingy bathroom with its flickering red light, Milos eyed the window on the far wall and sighed before being startled by a toilet flushing.
Hearing the click of a lock, a cubicle door flung opened and out stepped a drunk woman. she looked at him oddly before stumbling over to the sink. Thinking fast, Milos joined her in front of the mirror.
Raking his colourful fingers through his straight blonde hair, Milos tried not to look at the girl next to him, reapplying her lipstick, not wanting to start a conversation.
For what seemed like an eternity, the pair stood side by side, the girl occasional glancing in his direction as Milos stared straight ahead at his feminine reflection, wondering if there would be any way to reverse all the changes that had been forced upon him after he escaped, knowing that the huge breasts sat on his chest, the round bubble butt that jiggled whenever he moved, and his ultra-feminine face with its alluring features and huge pouty lips would probably be with him for some time.
He wanted more than anything to believe there was a way back, a way to reclaim his old self, but as the girl next to him finish up and exit the room, he decided that he could worry about that later, first he had to get away from Marko and this god awful club.
(See image 2.3)
Without wasting a second, Milos trotted over to inspect the small window and sighed once more, knowing that getting through wasn’t going to be easy.
The window was at least six feet above the ground and even in his tall platform boots, he still couldn’t see the ground on the other side.
Looking around the room for something to stand on, he spotted a rubbish bin near the sinks, used to discard paper towels, and made a beeline for it.
Grabbing the plastic handle, Milos tipped it upside down, spilling its contents all over the bathroom floor before repositioning it below the window.
Ready to attempt the climb, he suddenly remembered that he hadn’t locked a cubicle door. Swiftly, he clicked his way over to the cubicle furthest from the exit, took the key Coach had given him from inside of his tiny top, being careful not to scratch a nipple with one of his long nails and locked the door.
Placing the key back in its fleshy hiding place, Milos teetered back over to the upturned bin, carefully placed his right boot atop, took hold of the window frame with his long pink and yellow claws and heaved himself up into a crouched position atop the black plastic tub.
Wobbling and trying not to fall, he pushed the window open as far as it would go before peering down nervously at the drop on the other side. With no way to get through gracefully, he knew the fall was going to hurt, seeing the hardwood floor of the corridor on the other side, but at this point, he was willing to do just about anything to escape the living hell that he was forced to endure every day and a few bruises weren’t going to stop him.
Placing both arms through the small opening, followed by his head, Milos pushed off with his feet. It was a tight fit as he tried to squeeze his humongous breasts through the tiny opening, his sensitive nipples becoming erect as they rubbed painfully against the wooden window frame, causing shivers to run up and down his jiggling body.
Huffing and puffing and worried he wasn’t going to fit, Milos gave it everything he had, until something suddenly gave way, sending him tumbling through the window. He let out a little scream as he fell the six feet, rolling his body in the air to avoid landing on his head before landing with a heavy thud on the other side.
A little dazed and sore but determined to keep moving, Milos pushed himself to his leather-clad knees and using the wall to help, wrenched himself back up onto his heeled feet.
Looking around to get his bearings, he looked up and down the long corridor, usually off-limits to staff. Luckily, it was empty, but he did wonder for a second if there were cameras, not that it mattered at that moment because if all went to plan, he would be long gone before anyone saw the footage.
With his heart beating furiously in his chest, Milos tiptoed down the corridor, located the staircase and pushed open the heavy door.
With the door closed behind him, he stopped for a moment to catch his breath, suddenly feeling a pain in his leg after landing on it pretty hard after tumbling through the window. Stepping forward his leg threatened to give out on him but with his veins coursing with adrenaline, he limped his way up the first couple of steps towards freedom.
Three flights of stairs were the only thing left to overcome, then his nightmare would finally be over, “I can do this”, he repeated in his mind, knowing he could make it having climbed three times as many flights of stairs every evening to reach his apartment thanks to Sonja and her awful rules.
It was slow progress in his impractical shoes and throbbing leg, but one step at a time, Milos edged his way closer to freedom but just as he reached the second floor, he suddenly heard a terrifying noise from below.
A door had opened and now he could hear footsteps coming his way. Panicked, Milos set off scrambling up the remaining steps as quickly as possible, but it was no use, the person ascending the steps was moving too quickly as heard the footsteps drawing closer. Knowing he had been caught, Milos turned to accept his fate.
(See image 2.4)
But not all was lost as the head of Coach came into view.
“Milena, we need to abort”, he announced loudly, placing his hands on his knees to try and catch his breath, “I was about to go into Marko’s office to steal the car keys when I noticed him sitting inside. I don’t know why he’s here, but we need to get back to the club floor before some notices us missing”.
“No, no, I can’t go back”, Milos screamed, grabbing his head and pulling at his long blond hair, “we’re so close, please, there must be another way”.
Coach climbed the remaining steps that separated them and opened his arms for Milos, who fell into them before starting to sob, “you must be strong now, Milena, I promise you, we’ll get another chance but if we leave now, how far do you think we are going to get without a car and you in those boots? Next Thursday, we will try again, the plan will work, we just need Marko to be out of his office”.
Milos looked up into Coach’s eyes and pouted. There was a moment where time seemed to stand still, the pair staring lovingly into each other’s eyes before Coach brought his head forward, slammed his lips against Milos’.
The make-out session was hot and heavy as Coach ran his hands down Milos’ hourglass figure, reaching down to caress his bottom as Milos let out a little moan.
Out of breath, Coach pulled away, reaching up with his hand and placing it on Milos’ cheek, “I love you, Milena, I am going to get you out of here, I promise, can you wait one more week for me”? he asked, gently stroking the feminized boy’s cheek.
Milos looked up at Coach and gave him a weak smile. “I can wait, I’ll wait for you”.
“Good girl”, Coach replied, wiping away a dark mascara soaked tear, “now come on, let’s get you back, I’ll help you back through that bathroom window, remember to fix your makeup before you head back out there", he added in a soothing voice, "just hold on for one more week then we'll be free".
