I am in some sort of institution or home for people with sex troubles. Looking in a mirror I note that the lacy upper part of a slip is partly seen in the V-neck of a black shirt I am wearing. Say to myself: "Why not, everyone knows I am supposed to be a man who wears women's clothes. So what!" Later I appear to be wearing a skirt with same black shirt and hear someone say that it is afternoon tea time. A woman with a large oven opens the door and I see little cakes inside. She says to be careful, they are hot. I take a brown one that appears to be gingerbread, but I wonder what is inside. While taking it on a paper doily, I note some chocolate balls about 1" in diameter on a nearby shelf and when the woman turns her back, I take some. Look for a table and all are full. But someone at a table invites me to sit down. I sit and feel good because I remembered to smooth my skirt properly. Later a woman from the institution, some sort of warder, takes 2 or 3 of us on a bus. I sit down alone at an aisle window, conscious of being dressed completely as a woman and with a neatly coiffed hairpiece. I look at arms in the sleeveless dress and observe they are too muscular looking. Some young boys enter the bus and apparently know the warder. They sit in back with her and are all laughing and joking. One is apparently sitting behind me and I feel a rake-like stick poke me under the rear and I jump with a slight protest. Then one of the young boys sits down alongside me. I see he carries a new, coiled bull whip. He turns to me and I note his shirt is open and I poke him away and off the seat with a small stick which I push against his chest. He leaves, saying, "I'll get you later." I hear someone else, one of the girls, jump in indignation and I guess someone has also poked her with the rake stick. Later we are in a bar. I see the warder and the boys and some other people sitting up to the bar. I walk past and sit down at an empty table in what I feel is ladylike fashion, smoothing my skirt. A boy approaches me with a mean look on his face and I begin to realize that the warder has set this whole thing up to allow myself and the other girls to fall into the hands of these bad boys ... and that the bus meeting was prearranged. I am afraid because I do not want to be touched by them or even worse, to be whipped and get hurt seriously. I get up and look for a toilet. Remember saying to someone that I had better use the men's room. Enter and note people staring at me. I enter an open booth, fumble thru dress, slip and corset and finally find my penis. I urinate standing over the bowl and immediately it fills up as my loud, strong and very yellow stream pours down. It flows onto the floor from a bidet which seems strangely connected to the toilet bowl. A janitor walks in and ignores me as he reaches up and pulls a chain. I walk out and adjust my dress.