‘Panty Raid and Other Stories of Transvestism and Female Impersonation’ contains three short stories. The first two, ‘Undercover News’ and ‘Costumed Vacation’, do not interest me, but ‘Panty Raid’, the title story, does have a moderately amusing script and two wonderful drawings. The fact that neither of the drawings coincides with an event in the story is typical of Stanton.
"All right, so I didn't succeed in my panty raid. I lost! The frat brothers will give me a real paddling," he squirmed at the thought, "and that'll be that. So let's just forget it."
"Oh, we don't want you to be paddled out of your fraternity, no sir" another girl said. "Lori what say we give him an outfit . . . panties, slip, bra, dress, silk stocking, and a pair of high heeled shoes."
"That's really nice of you," Bruce smiled, relief flooding his senses. "Now, if you'll only release me . . ."
"Not so fast!" snapped Lori. "We'll give you a feminine outfit, but it's got to fit YOU! Okay girls, let's get Bruce properly dressed. After all, that's what he came for!"
"No! No!" he protested, but four sets of female hands yanked down his boxer shorts. Bruce flushed and tried to cover himself with his hands but his awkward knock-kneed position and round-shouldered position of embarrassment only provoked more laughter.
"Very funny! Very funny!" he gasped.
"Come on, girls," laughed Lori. "I can hardly wait to see what he looks like in some really dainty clothes. Let's start with this panty girdle."
Next came an underwired satin brassiere with pushup pads.
"Would you prefer panties or bloomers, Brucie?"
Bruce felt his indignation rise. Even though he was clad in a tight panty girdle and brassiere, he still had some pride left. "Lori, this joke has gone far enough. My patience is at an end. "
"So is mine!" she shouted. "You had your chance. Okay, Sandra, get that pair of knee to thigh silk bloomer -- the one with the leather band instead of elastic. You know the bloomer -- it's transparent green, like sea foam."
Bruce stepped into the silky legs of the bloomer. When the leather laces imprisoned his torso into the filmy bloomers, Bruce glanced at himself in a ceiling-to- floor mirror off to one side of the room. He found himself pleased.
(Oops – the story is almost over for me.)
Next came a pure satin silk slip that came to just above Bruce's knees. One of the girls knelt and worked swiftly to fasten a garter belt to his pelvis. Bruce flushed. It was embarrassing to have someone lift up his slip -- right up to his hips, too!
And now...yes... here it was the gown to be worn by Bruce King.
"Do you like it?" asked Lori, already joining in giggling with the other girls at the anticipation of seeing him wear a dress. "It's a French import. It's an exclusive design."
As the dress was lowered upon Bruce, he found his heart was pounding, his emotions were stepped up and he was breathless with eager anticipation. He dared not admit his true feelings to anyone, even to himself! After all, he had been FORCED into this whole thing... by his frat brothers and then he was CAPTURED and BOUND BY FEMALES and compelled to follow their orders.
Bruce flushed. Four pairs of amused but victorious eyes were upon him. He disliked intensely having been made their plaything but he had no choice in the matter. He walked around the room, feeling a bit strange -- even naked -- in the feminine outfit, but it was rather interesting to watch himself in the mirror.
(That’s it, story over. He likes being in girl’s clothes.)
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The contents of Bizarre Life #2, also early 1960's, are not very interesting, but the red head in the maid’s uniform on the cover certainly looks uncomfortable and apprehensive.
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‘Evelyn Handleman in the Case of the V-pants’ is primarily a fighting woman story.
However, the plot includes a transvestite who is running for office. His opponent, Armand du Rochefauld, discovers his odd proclivities and is about to expose him on TV when Evelyn takes charge. The following Petticoat Punishment episode takes only about two the thirty-six pages of the story.
Quickly the two of them turned to look into the pistol she held steadily aimed at them.
"How did you - -" asked Helen.
"Both of you, start undressing! I mean now!"
Du Rochefauld turned back to look at the mirror, to see if he could use something on the dressing table as a weapon. Silently the pistol fired and du Rochefauld saw his image in the mirror burst into a thousand splintered shards.
"Now, " Evelyn repeated, "quickly." As they got down to their underwear, Evelyn ordered, "Put his shorts on and his undershirt," she told Helen. "And you, uh, Amanda, put on her brassiere and panties.
Prodded by the gun, Helen dressed in the shirt and ascot, shoes, socks, and swallow-tailed coat of her henchman, while du Rochefauld cowered in the corner of the room, terrified.
"It's a good thing you're a big woman, " Evelyn said.
"Get him into that girdle now! Put on those nylons! Dawdle, and we’ll present him on television without a dress!"
Their fingers fairly flew as each put one stocking on du Rochefauld and then squeezed Helen's shoes onto his feet. He put her evening slip on and then the black crepe evening gown.
"Lipstick now," Evelyn commanded, "and make it thick, eye shadow and liner, no time for mascara." The big woman carried out the orders. Gradually du Rochefauld's face became transformed into a grotesque caricature of a woman's.
And then they were on the air. Two women, one in a long, red evening gown and one of incredibly exciting proportions came out and stood on opposite sides of the door while a big woman, grotesquely dressed in a man's formal attire save only for the trousers came out. The Managing Director's hoarse, rasping voice, said, "Ladies and Gentlemen of the television audience, I proudly present Miss Helen Allis, Canada's feminine answer to Benedict Arnold. Try as she might to avoid being televised, the camera followed her ducking, running, awkward movements in the heavy men's shoes until she ran through the door to the property room.
Now the Managing Director's voice seemed hoarser than ever. "And the candidate for office who was scheduled to debate with Roger Dresser today, but who, unfortunately, has decided to concede both the debate and the election, Armand du Rochefauld. "
Evelyn waited for awhile outside the door, then went into the dressing room. There was a pause. Then in the doorway loomed the massive figure of du Rochefauld in Helen Allis's evening gown. He tried to hide his face with its make-up and the earrings with the masculine haircut, from the camera behind the shrug, but Evelyn whipped it off him.
Terrified, his ears assailed by laughter from the entire camera crew, he tried to run on wobbly ankles unaccustomed to high heels after Helen. But the best he could do was to walk off stage unsteadily with knees bent awkwardly, and the camera mercilessly followed him to the end.
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’Hampered Hercules’ book one and book two were published by Satellite in New Jersey. The books include no copyright or publishing date, but are probably from the early 1960’s. During the 1980’s, I lent both books to Empathy Press and they reprinted them without the color as ‘Hampered TV Hercules’ despite the fact that that the hero is not a TV.
It is interesting and unusual that Gene Bilbrew (Eneg) is the artist for Book 1 and Eric Stanton for Book 2. The two artist use similar styles and the characters look so much alike in the two books that Stanton must have at least seen Bilbrew's art if they didn't in fact work together.
As usual, Stanton draws both the girls and the hero in fetish wear. At least this time his art matches the story fairly well.
Book one begins with local Mr. America contest winner, Jeff Andrews, deciding to try his luck as a model in New York City. On the bus, he meets Connie, a delicious hunk of a girl. She’s a model already and invites him to spend his first night in New York at her apartment with her and her roommate. Hoping he might get lucky with both of them, Jeff agrees.
Her roommate, Sylvia, is a spectacular looking blond who greets him at the door wearing knee length boots and a black satin sash.
They invite him to shower and change into his posing briefs for a practice photo shoot. They suggest a Samson and Delilah scene with him in restraints. The pose becomes uncomfortable and he protests. The girls keep smiling and say that it will be fun having him for a slave. He struggles but can’t escape the chains.
Then things get worse, much worse for the macho man. The girls bleach his hair a pale platinum shade and give him a permanent wave with little girlish ringlets all over his head. They pluck his eyebrows to a thin arching line, apply makeup to his cheeks and a vivid shade of lipstick to his mouth. Next they remove all of his body hair except for that under his posing trunks. Leaving his arms fettered, they release his legs and force his feet into high-heeled shoes. They cinch his waist, tie a frilly white apron around him, and force a ball gag into his mouth.
Sylvia telephones a friend to come over and see her new slave. Jeff frantically struggles to get up and out the door.
"Go ahead and run away slave," Connie said, "I’ll follow and watch the fun. Wait until people see you in that apron and heels, makeup and hairdo." Jeff understands that she’s right, he could be arrested and thrown into jail for appearing in public like that.
He allows the girls to put dark nylon hose on his legs and a garter belt around his cinched waist. The next item put on his cringing and humiliated body is a very short full skirt. The high heels are returned to his feet and a nylon blouse put on his upper body. The girls have their dinner while Jeff is forced to help with arms secured behind him. The girls put all their leftovers in a bowl on the kitchen floor and make him eat on his knees.
Book two begins that night with Jeff standing in impotent near-nudity before his mistresses, they fasten devices to his feet to force them into feminine shape, then put him into a long nylon nightgown (releasing his shackled elbows temporarily). Putting his shackles back on, Connie rolls a rubber mask over his head and neck. He can barely breathe and only see light and dark. Wearing this bizarre blindfold, he assists the girls with their baths.
After a very uncomfortable night sleeping on the kitchen floor, Jeff has to serve the girls breakfast. He kneels before them in his hated nightgown while they enjoy a leisurely breakfast from the tray he is holding.
After breakfast, they use him as a dress form. Their garments would be too small for him, if not for the tight black leather panties and corset they lace him into. Then they bring out one of Connie’s brassieres. It is so tight that both of the girls have to strain to make the hooks of the leather garment catch, imprisoning him. As a further degradation, they proceed to stuff the empty cups with padding to fill it out. Then they drape him with leather and create a tight top and skirt. Next comes a change into long lace up boots and a broad leather belt, tightly cinched and they bind his thumbs together.
Later that day another woman brings her slave by. He has been in bondage for two years! Somehow, Jeff had to get out of the girls’ power before it was too late.
‘Suffering Males’, is rich in art and has a simple plot. The book does not name the publisher, copyright date, author or artist. I believe it was printed in the early 1960’s and the art is almost certainly by Stanton. As usual, if you have any additional information, please contact me.
Charles (Chub) B. Flager, a fat, manicured Attorney, has embezzled from the trust of Nan Boros, who is about to become an adult. Charles hoped that Nan would marry him so he would be able to hide the theft. However, Nan has fallen for Barbara Vogel, a short haired ‘bull dyke’.
Charles hired Storm Ronson to seduce Barbara and break Nan’s heart. Then Charles would agree to marry her to protect her from ever having her heart broken again. Storm’s orders are to rape Barbara if she won’t have sex willingly. Unfortunately for Charles and Storm, Charles’ secretary, Angel, overhears their conversation and calls Barbara:
Seducing Barbara was easier than Storm ever dreamed. Hell, it seemed that she was seducing him. In her apartment, she poured him a drink. In a minute, he was semi-conscious. Nan joined them and helped Barbara tie his legs and arms and string him up between chairs.
They poured a pitcher of ice water over his head.
"Hey," he said when he woke, "What are you bitches up to. Untie me, or I’ll have you arrested." Even as he spoke, the girls proceeded to undress.
"I found this spring on our back screen door," Barbara said.
"All I have is this umbrella," Nan said. She brought it up sharply, hitting him in the stomach. He drew up, only to meet the flailing spring swung savagely by Barbara.
"Hey, let up," Storm cried. "Let’s make a deal."
"No deal," Nan said. "You’re going to be working for us now, not Uncle Chub, and you won’t be paid." The beating continued with fists when the umbrella broke. They threw him to the floor. She put her high heeled shoe across the back of his neck and pressed down "You’re our slave, now say it."
The pressure of her foot became heavier on his neck. "I’m your slave," Storm whispered in pain.
"Your first assignment is to get Chub over here."
Storm called Chub and told him the plan had worked and that he had better get right over to console Nan.
When he arrived, Nan pretended to be upset. As he consoles her, she let her robe drop revealing her breasts and underwear. Chub suggests a Reno marriage. She trips him and jumps on top, fists flailing. In moments, a savage blow to the chin sends his head hard against the floor, and he lay still. She tied his hands with her hair bow and his belt. She rolled him over and when he woke asked, "Uncle Chub, what’s the condition of my estate?"
"Why excellent my dear," he said.
She grabbed his ears like a handle and banged his head against the floor until he admitted, "All I did is borrow a little."
"Do you have the money to pay me back?"
"Not at the moment, but it’s all invested wisely."
Disgusted with his lies, she delivered another knockout blow. When he woke again she stuffed a pair of her panties into his mouth and secured them by tying a scarf tightly around his head.
Barbara returned and said, "Sorry, but I need to use this room too. This is the only one that isn’t carpeted. Our slave actually tried to disobey me when I told him that he was going to have to make like Flagler here was a girl while we took movies."
Barbara spread hot coals around the floor using the fireplace shovel. Then she sprinkled thumbtacks in the same area. She dragged in the newly secured Storm. His clothes had been removed and his bondage enhanced by a feminine red taffeta apron tied round his waist.
Striking him across his chest with a flail she had made from a cord, she drove him back and forth on his knees across the coals and tacks.
"Well, do you use this fat blob like a woman while we film it, or shall we use these coals and tacks on your but and check next? Blink twice if yes."
Storm blinked twice.
Barbara pulled out the tacks from his knees, swept up the floor, and turned to Flagler. "You ready to let him use you?"
Terrified by the brutality, Chub still wouldn’t agree to being used as a woman by another man.
Barbara came at him with a huge knife. Slashing wildly, she cut off his shirt. Then she lowered his pants and shorts and Nan began beating his fat rump with a length of picture frame. Chub couldn’t cry out through his gag, but his tears flowed freely.
"Shall I try a whip next?" Barbara asked. I have an interesting idea of something I want to try with piano wire. Or are you willing to play woman for Storm?"
Chub nodded his head.
They pulled off his pants and shorts then put a huge pair of pink bloomers on him.
"Ooh, how sweet you look," Barbara teased him. Using the laces from his shoes they tied his ankles together and tightened and re-tightened a corset around his flabby waist. A garter belt came next and then dark gray silk stockings. A big brassiere was drawn tightly around him and then the centers of the cups were cut out so that his nipples thrust through the holes.
A pair of women’s shoes was squeezed onto his feet. They wrapped his hands with adhesive tape so that only the thumbs were left free. Then put thick, obvious makeup on his face, even painting a lipstick mouth on his gag. A wig came next then a satin blouse and a ridiculously short satin skirt. A wide blue satin sash went around his constricted waist.
Now the girls cut openings in the blouse to match those in the brassiere. "Woo-woo," Barbara teased.
They photographed him, front, sides, holding up his skirt showing his girlish bloomers, curtsying, standing before a mirror in a half-dozen feminine poses. Chub knew they’d make him do it anyway if he didn’t carry out their orders.
They went back to Storm and took the gag from his mouth.
"May I have a drink?" he asked.
Nan took a bowl, filled it with milk and put it on the floor. Just as he began to crawl toward the bowl, Barbara leaped onto his back and began raking his rump with her fingernails.
Still he moved forward on his sore, raw knees. Just as his tongue contacted the milk, Barbara shifted her weight to drive his face deep into the bowl. Gasping and sputtering, Storm pulled his head up and Nan took the bowl away.
He began cursing and the girls put a dirty pair of Barbara’s panties into his mouth and secured it with a polka dotted hair bow.
The two gagged men were stood on their feet.
"Chub," Barbara said, "I’m changing your name now to Gloria. And Gloria, I want you to throw your arms around your lover and give him a great big loving squeeze."
Timidly, terrified of what would happen to him if he refused, Chub put his arms around Storm’s waist. Quickly Barbara tied his jutting thumbs together, then tied storm’s wrists together around ‘Gloria’. Nan tied a sash around their knees and the two girls began flailing their victims with paddles.
"I think we’ve left Gloria with too much padding," Barbara said.
Now the two were stretched side by side on the bed, their gags were removed and Chub stripped. The girls proceeded to spank the unprotected bottoms of their victims.
When the girl’s arms were too tired to do any more beating and the men had not one iota of fight or resistance left in them, the movie equipment was set up. The title of the movie painted in bright red lipstick on the pillow was ‘The Male Lesbians’.
The bruised and beaten men went through the mockery of embraces and kisses, of courtship and pleasuring each other. The women introduced a dozen imaginative touches of them applying nail polish to each other’s toes and fingernails, shaving the hair off each other’s legs and chests, plucking each other’s eyebrows, and going through a hundred feminine tasks clumsily.
After the girls sent the film out for processing, Gloria was back in his silly costume and Storm, miserably uncomfortable in an old shift of Barbara’s, gaudy red lipstick and a pair of shoulder length earrings, was preparing lunch. There wasn’t a masculine garment in the place, and besides the pictures were too numerous to risk an escape attempt.
Gloria’s secretary, Angel, arrived with papers for them to sign. Never were two men more utterly defeated.
Angel ran the law office beautifully. Each day a plump woman came to work for her taking dictation and answering the phone. She was painfully shy and tried to avoid contact with clients.
"I want you in that low cut green satin thing with the red wig tonight, Gloria," Angel said. "Be sure to wear the highest heeled green satin shoes you have."
In Nan and Barbara’s apartment, Storm in his short skirted black satin maid’s uniform finished setting the table. "Remember to kiss Gloria tonight," Barbara told him. He curtsied in acknowledgement.
"The electrolysis and hormones are really making him more attractive," Nan said. "I can’t wait until after dinner when we show the movie of them. When we start selling it, these two will be the best known male lesbians in the whole world."
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