Aunt Gave Me A New Life

My Aunt Gave Me A New Life



I am not sure how I ended up wearing her dress or becoming
her bridesmaid, but I did. I am eighteen and I was visiting my
Aunt Nancy in Florida. I had gone down for her wedding and to
house sit while she was on her honeymoon. My parents were only
coming for the wedding. I arrived a week early and made myself
right at home. My Aunt is only a few years older than myself
and quite attractive. She is a successful businesswoman, a
vice-president in a retail store chain. I have often fantasized
what it would be like to make love to her. I also have another
secret fantasy which I have never mentioned to anyone. I have
often seen how popular she is with the guys and her girlfriends
and I have wondered what it would be like to be her. To make a
long story short, the second day at her house she caught me
looking through her drawers and accused me of being perverted
when I confessed my secret desire to wear her clothes and
pretend to be her. I had thought she had gone out for the day
and never heard her return. I was indulging my curiosity and
exploring her wardrobe when she caught me. She had forgotten
her tennis racket and had returned for it.

She was angry with me and said she was going to have to
punish me. I begged her to forgive me and promised her that I
would never do it again. She said that I had violated her
privacy and that a simple apology was not enough. She said a
punishment was the only proper recourse for my actions. I asked
what she had in mind? I nearly fell on the floor when she told
me!

She told me she was going to show me what it was really like
to be a girl. With that she showed me how physically fit she
was. She easily overpowered me and dragged me into the
bathroom. She forced me to remove all my clothes and applied a
depilatory to my entire body. The smell was horrible and it
began to itch like crazy. She finally let me shower and wash it
off. I cried as I saw my body hair go down the drain. Her next
move was to take me back to her room and force me into a
matching black lace bra and panty set. She then said I looked a
little out of place without any breasts to fill my bra cups. I
was then introduced to a product I never knew existed. She told
me it was something she had purchased when she thought she had
breast cancer and was preparing to have a mastectomy. It was a
pair of life-like breast forms. They were filled with a special
gel to give them weight and bounce. There was also some special
electronics built into them to give the wearer distinct shocks
which would make them feel the sensations of touch. If they
were aroused the circuitry would sense it and the nipples would
get hard. "I didn't want to miss the enjoyment of the real
things so I spent the extra money to get the best fake tits
available. I also have this special adhesive which will attach
them to your body permanently. It can only be removed by a
chemical solution which I will not tell you about nor supply
you with until I return from my honeymoon. Hold still while I
give you size 40DD breasts."

I was immediately aware of their weight, movement, and
sensitivity. After putting them on me she took great delight in
pinching the nipples and sending pain and shivers through my
body. Tears actually welled up in my eyes. The worst part of
the embarrassment was that it caused an immediate erection in my
penis. My Aunt laughed at my predicament. She said that my
erection needed to be eliminated and surprised me by dropping to
her knees and giving me the best blow job I had ever had. Then
came the real surprise! She kissed me and in the process
transferred my cum from her mouth into mine. "You want to be a
girl, then you are going to have to learn to swallow cum rather
than produce it. Girls are always on the receiving end of a
penis. I think you will enjoy that and I'll enjoy seeing you
get it."

She refused to explain what she meant by that, but said I
would find out soon enough. She then informed me that she had
already formulated her plan for my punishment quite thoroughly.
"You said you wondered what it was like to be a girl like me and
I'm going to see that your curiosity is fulfilled, but on my
terms not yours. There is a lot we have to do to finish your
transformation. We'll begin by hiding your penis. Bring me the
roll of pink satin ribbon from the box in the closet. We are
going to make a penis sheath if we can. If it works, you'll
not only have a womanly appearance in front, but it will force
you to sit like a woman if you have to pee. I am going to wrap
this ribbon around the shaft of your penis but leave the head of
it exposed so you can urinate. Then I'll pull the ribbon
through the crack of your ass and secure it around your waist,
leaving your penis pulled securely back toward your asshole.
While I do this we need to think up a feminine name for you.
David Allen Reynolds just doesn't fit someone with large tits
that wears dresses. I think I'll call you Melissa Louise
Reynolds after Grandma and your mother. I've almost got this
sheath finished and it seems it is going to work just as I hoped
it would. There appears to be a side benefit from this device
as well. The cords going through your ass have spread your
cheeks a bit and made them seem fuller and more feminine also.
There will be no need to remove the ribbon to go to the bathroom
but you will need to sit for every function unless you want to
clean up the mess each time and look kind of funny in a ladies'
room. Pull up your panties and look at yourself in my full
length mirror over here. We haven't even added clothes or
makeup and I 'd swear you could pass for a girl already. You
are going to look like a super model when we are done and the
guys are going to drool all over you."

I was at a loss for words as I stared at the reflection
before me. I was indeed beautiful. The hairless body with
curves in all the right places and an empty v where my penis had
been. It seems that in pulling my penis back between my legs
that it forced my balls up into my body cavity and the empty sac
acted like the folds of the labia giving me the appearance of a
vagina. I could not help but stare in utter amazement of the
feminine beauty before me and I couldn't wait to see the
finished product. She then insisted on painting my toenails and
fingernails a bright red. Once the polish dried, it was time to
finish getting dressed. Since I appeared to be far more
feminine then she expected that I would be, she placed the
pantyhose back in her drawer and got out a garter belt and some
black seamed hose. She showed me how to roll the hose gently up
my leg and straighten the seams attaching them to the garter
straps. I felt sensual in such sexy lingerie. Next came a
black satin slip, followed by a short black dress and black high
heeled pumps. She pulled my shoulder length hair back into a
ponytail tying it off with a large red bow. She sat me at her
vanity and began applying a full array of makeup and adding some
jewelry. She said I needed some earrings to complete my outfit,
but she only had earrings for pierced ears. "Well, all
punishments should have some pain and suffering involved."

She left me sitting there wondering what in the world she was
talking about and walked out of the room. She returned a few
minutes later carrying a large sewing needle some ice cubes and
a bottle of alcohol. I was praying that she was not going to do
it, but I knew she was. I quickly found myself with a hole in
each ear. She inserted large dangling gold loops into each one.
"Now Melissa it is time for you to see yourself and to begin
your lessons on being a woman. Later on we'll go shopping and
get you fitted for your gown. I have decided to have you as one
of my bridesmaids. I've already called and made the appointment
for your fitting and I've also made an appointment with my
hairdresser to get your hair done. You are going to look so
cute as a blonde!"

I was in tears as I realized how far this punishment was
going. She also informed me that my suitcase and all my male
clothing was going to get mixed up with theirs and follow them
on their honeymoon meaning I would only have her clothes to wear
the entire time they were gone. I was a girl for at least four
weeks and I needed to face it and make the best of it. I was
concerned how far she would go in this masquerade. I already
knew we were going to venture out into public and I had a notion
she was serious about me being a bridesmaid and exposing me to
our entire family as well as leaving me to live as a girl while
she was on her honeymoon. I could think of no way of escaping
her well designed punishment. I had to first learn to act like a
girl and walk in heels as well as sit in a skirt.

She finished my makeup and then asked me to stand and walk to
the mirror. I almost fell over as I tried to stand in the hells
she had placed on my feet. As I sat down again, she called me a
little sissy and told me that the heels I was wearing were only
three inch heels. She became angry when I complained of their
awkwardness. She took them off my feet and said she would teach
me a real lesson. She replaced them with shoes that had a five
inch spiked heel and said now I could suffer some real pain and
challenge. She then lifted me to my feet and made me stand
still for several minutes to get used to balancing in them. I
told her she was crazy when she asked me to walk in them. "Take
very short feminine steps walking on your toes as much as you
can, but get your ass over here to where I am standing."

I stumbled quite a bit but I made it over to her and the
mirror. I was even more shocked at my reflection than I was
before being dressed and made up. She told me I did not have
the time to stand admiring myself in the mirror all day as I had
a lot to learn and not much time to do it in. She had me walk
around the house until I could walk in the heels with some grace
and poise. Next it was time to learn how to sit in a short
skirt without exposing my panties or stocking tops. She made me
practice crossing and uncrossing my legs, sitting and rising, as
well as knowing how to flash a glance if I were flirting with a
man. She also taught me basic feminine mannerisms, such as
tossing my head lightly to clear the hair from my eyes, or
moving my wrists in an alluring way. My voice has always been
in a fairly high pitched range, I have often been addressed on
the phone as madam or miss, so all she had to do was teach me to
use more feminine phrases and words. The time flew by. It was
soon time to go to our appointments.

Our first stop was the bridal shop. I found out that they
already had a dress made that just needed to be fit to me. It
seems that one of her original bridesmaids had become quite ill
and could not make the wedding. My need for punishment provided
her with an easy choice for a replacement. I was very close in
size and I was available. The saleslady said she was surprised
that no alterations were necessary. She also asked if she could
take a picture of me to use for her advertising. She offered to
return the purchase price of all the gowns including the bridal
gown if I agreed to model for their photographer. My sister
made me agree to return the next day and be the model for their
television commercial and newspaper ads. I was also told that
posters would be put up around the store of my pictures. I was
told that I would receive copies of all photos and videos taken
and that my Aunt would receive everything for free. I actually
felt flattered that she thought I looked pretty enough to want
me as a model. "The next thing you know, Melissa, we'll be
seeing you on the cover of Vogue."

Our next stop was at the hair salon. She had a long talk
with her hairdresser before they both came back to where I was
sitting. Aunt Nancy introduced me to Diane and said she knew
exactly what she wanted for me and that I needed to listen to
everything she had to say and do all she told me to. She said
she would run some more errands and return for me in a couple
hours. I watched her walk out the door as I followed Diane to
the shampoo area. She washed my hair and then covered it with a
foul smelling goop and wrapped it in plastic. I sat under the
dryer for a long period of time, then she removed the plastic
and shampooed it once again. This time she trimmed some of my
hair, rolled it up in curlers and applied another foul smelling
goop to it. I spent more time under the dryer before returning
to her styling area to have the curlers removed and the hair
combed out into a very feminine style. She had taken my
straight dark brown hair and turned it into a golden blonde
filled with curls. I was given instructions on how to care for
my new perm and told not to use any shampoo on it for three
days. My Aunt was delighted with their work and thanked them
for doing such a good job on me.

"You look absolutely gorgeous as a blonde. How do you like
it? Michael and his brother are going to love it when they see
you. I told him about you and what I was doing to you. He
thought it was the right thing to do, but agreed that only he
and I needed to know the truth about who you were. Since none
of his family know you anyway, they are not going to be a
problem. The only others coming to the wedding that would know
you are your mother, grandmother and grandfather."

She said she called them and they also agreed to go along
with calling me Melissa and treating me as a girl. They told
her that under the circumstances that this was a very fitting
punishment for me and my mother said that she would arrange for
me to remain a girl when I returned home for the rest of the
summer and make me work as a waitress at our restaurant. She
then informed me that I would be the bridesmaid opposite
Michael's younger brother Philip at the wedding and that the
dinner tonight was an introductory date for us. Philip was two
years older than me. He was a body builder and worked in
construction with his family. I almost died when I saw him. I
have never been interested in guys, but he was a handsome man.
He had muscles everywhere. His jet black hair framed his rugged
face perfectly. The tight jeans he wore emphasized the bulge in
his pants. I could see that he was two or three times larger
than me in that area. I was actually getting the hots for him,
and I think my Aunt knew it. "He's a real hunk isn't he,
Melissa. Look at that cock of his, isn't it gorgeous?
Michael's is about the same size and I love every inch of it.
Don't believe what you have heard, size does make a difference!
Your puny little three incher is disgusting and would do
nothing for me. These guys have real cocks and they do know how
to use them! After seeing you undressed, it was easy to see why
you would rather dress as a girl. That cock of yours is no more
than the size of a large clitoris. Later on if you would like a
good look at a real man's cock I'm sure it could be arranged.
I'd like to see you suck on it. Let's see how the evening goes
first."

The introductions were made and we sat down to have some
dinner. Philip kept trying to find out about me. He was
showing more than casual signs of interest. It was clear that
he found me very attractive as a girl. I was a little set back
by that and did not know how to respond to his advances. I was
thankful for the fact that we were in a restaurant and he could
not gain access to touch me so easily. I knew he wanted to as
he tried holding my hand a couple times during the meal. He
also joked about getting me in his arms later that evening. I
began to wonder what he had been told and how far they were
going to make me go with him. Following dinner it was decided
that we would go to a local night club for some dancing. I was
being forced into his arms. I was not allowed to refuse to
dance with him, but I was scared to death as he held me close to
him for a slow dance. I could even feel that cock of his
getting larger by the minute. It was rubbing into my abdomen as
he continued to pull me closer to him. Though I didn't want to
admit it, I was getting excited also. My breasts were feeling
the passion of our closeness. The electronic circuitry was
working well. My nipples were as hard as his cock. I did not
want the dance to end. I felt strangely comfortable in his
arms. Was I becoming the girl my Aunt had dressed me as? Could
I ever be a man again?

These and many other questions were running through my mind
and I was near panic, as the dance did finally end. I needed to
relieve myself which also added to my dilemma. Which bathroom
do I use. I managed to get my Aunt's attention and she just
laughed and said, "Look at how you are dressed! You are going
to have to use the ladies' room, of course, now aren't you?
what a silly girl you are! Blonde is definitely your color!
Now remember to sit like a proper young lady."

I did sit. I sat pondering all that had taken place. I
thought about my secret fantasies that got me into this mess in
the first place. I also thought about Philip. He was handsome
with a huge cock. He was every girl's dream. I thought about
what it would be like to suck his cock or have it stuffed in my
ass. What was I thinking?! I did not want that huge thing up
my ass or in my mouth! But I was not a boy any longer, I was a
girl for the next four weeks. A girl would want a chance at
that cock. I was convinced from the statements that my Aunt had
made earlier that the choice would not be up to me. She was
probably going to make me do it anyway. Should I beat her to
the punch? Should I just play along? Did I really like being
the girl in a relationship? I certainly was enjoying being the
center of attention for a change and I liked having doors
opened for me and not paying for everything. Being a girl
certainly has its advantages. I was in the bathroom so long
that my Aunt came looking for me. I told her all that was going
through my mind. It seemed natural, now that we were
girlfriends. She laughed and told me that all girls have many
of the same questions when they are out on a date. She also
informed me that she was thinking of making me suck his cock at
some point but wasn't planning on tonight being the night, but
since I brought it up as something I was thinking about, she
might change her mind and give me the opportunity. With the
talking out of the way, she helped me touch up my makeup and
then we returned to the guys at the table.

We continued to dance and talk which only made me like Philip
even more as I got to know more about him. My nipples stayed
hard and I could feel the moistness of precum on my cock and in
my panties. I was drifting into the female role completely that
I could not remember my real identity any longer. I was Melissa
Louise all the way now. Perhaps it was the night, the company,
or just the drinks we had. I don't know what it was but I liked
it. I liked being a girl more and more with each passing
moment. When the time came for us to leave, my arms were around
Philip's waist as we walked to the car. Aunt Nancy invited the
guys back to the house and they both said yes. I rode with
Philip in his truck while Michael rode with Aunt Nancy in her
car. This is the first time I was actually alone with Philip
and I was nervous as hell. He was not overly aggressive, but he
did give me a kiss as he opened the door for me and helped me
into the cab of his pickup. I found myself responding to his
affections and kissing him back. His tongue found its way into
my mouth and though it caught me off guard I did not back away
from it. I sucked it in deeper. His hand rested on my knee all
the way to the house. I received another kiss as he helped me
out of the truck. I did not resist it, but kissed back and
wanted more.

In the house, Aunt Nancy had me make some coffee and serve it
in the living room. I returned to the living room with the
coffee to find her and Michael fondling one another on the sofa.
His hands were busy with her breasts while her hands had
unzipped his pants and were wrapped around his cock. Philip was
not in the room. I set the tray down and excused myself. They
stopped me from leaving the room. They told me that Philip had
gone to the all night convenience store to get a soda and some
other snacks. "This gives us a chance to talk to you, Melissa.
I've told Michael everything you told me this morning and
earlier in the ladies' room. I do not keep secrets from him.
He likes the punishment I'm giving you. We have both decided
that it is in all our best interests to keep your true identity
a secret, but that doesn't mean we can't add a little
humiliation to it or have some fun with your new gender
assignment. We think it would be fun to see you suck Philip's
cock. We want you to attack him as soon as he returns and do
just what you saw me and Michael doing when you walked into the
room with the coffee. Cuddle up to him and let him play with
your breasts while you unzip his pants and release his cock.
Play with it in your hands for a bit and then as you kiss him
slide off the sofa and onto your knees, like a good little slut
and let your mouth go to work kissing and sucking his cock. He
is as big as Michael and it will be difficult to take all of it
into your mouth and throat. In fact, Michael was just saying
that I was the only girl that ever took all of his cock in. If
you can manage to deep throat him like I do for Michael, then
after you get Philip to cum in your mouth I will put on a show
for you by sucking Michael's cock in front of you and I'll let
you video tape it as well as taping us fucking in bed and I will
model nude for you. That should feed your male fantasies about
what it would be like to make love to me. If you can't take all
of him into your mouth then I get to watch as he climaxes in
your mouth anyway and you have to go out with him on a date
every night until the wedding and suck him off each night in
front of us. While we are on our honeymoon you must video tape
for us at least three more blow jobs with Philip and one with
someone else of your choosing. Are you up to the challenge?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"No, I guess you really don't, Melissa. My brother is going
to enjoy your services. He has already told us how much he
likes you and how horny he is being with you on a date. I'm
glad he doesn't know your true identity, he'd be devastated. He
is not gay, but I think he would turn gay with you in the girl's
role. We may tell him when we get back from the honeymoon and
see what happens then. I would hope we could see him fuck you
up that cute ass of yours. After all you won't be a real woman
until you've been fucked like one."

"What if I decide to tell him tonight who I really am?"

"Then we will see that you get fucked tonight and that you
have many more humiliating experiences as a girl. I have a
friend that would be glad to meet a girl like you and keep you
barefoot and pregnant in his kitchen. My brother might also
have some things he would want to do to you, or maybe he'll keep
you as his whore for a while himself. Don't cross us, your Aunt
and I will win easily. She has already turned you into a model
at the bridal shop, arranged for your mother to keep you as a
girl for the rest of the summer and can easily do something else
to you. How do you think you will like being a waitress? I
hear some of those truckers that come into the restaurant really
like to get it on with the waitresses. Perhaps you would like
to spend your summer here with us. What do you think Nancy,
wouldn't she make a good sales clerk at one of your stores, or
maybe she would better suited to working as a secretary at my
company? Wait! I've got an even better idea! She could be a
cocktail waitress at the Pink Bikini! Can you picture her
walking around in one of their pink bikinis and heels taking
orders for drinks from guys watching other girls strip on the
stage?"

"Michael, you are getting too carried away with all this. If
she wants to tell Philip all about herself then let it be
between them. Philip should decide on the consequences. She
should not be punished for telling the truth on their first
date, but she should have to suffer through whatever comes of
it. Who knows there may be two weddings on Saturday. Philip
may want to keep her as a wife for the next four weeks. Look at
her, Michael, you have to admit that she is pretty and desirable
as a female. Philip is a horny male and if he is at all like
you he needs someone to fuck everyday. She is easy and
available. He just may want to take advantage of it. Melissa,
I'm not sure what will happen if you tell Philip the truth. It
is the right thing to do, but if you tell him then you have to
tell everyone you meet and since you are going to have to live
as a girl while we are gone, how many people do you want knowing
about you?"

"What if Philip wants to fuck me? I can't run away from him.
He won't keep taking a no. I know because I have a hard time
when I go out with a girl more than once and get horny each time
that I have a hard time accepting a no from her. I know the
pain that having blue balls brings. Once he takes my panties
off he is going to find out the truth. Wouldn't it be better if
I told him before it ever got that far?"

"You are right. It would be better for all of us if he was
told. What are you going to do if he rejects you? I can tell
from your argument that you want to be fucked by him. How much
of a girl have you become?"

"I don't know. It is all so new that I have not had time to
figure out my feelings. Yes, on one hand, I do want to see what
it is like to be fucked by him. On the other hand, I feel
disgusted by even the thought of it. I am so confused. I'm
glad you are in charge of what happens. I wouldn't be able to
make up my mind."

"Michael, what do you think?"

"I don't like deceiving my brother, but we can't have the
whole world know that we are punishing your nephew this way. I
guess we should tell Philip the truth about his date and see
what he wants to do, but it should be after the blow job so he
can evaluate her performance as the female in their
relationship. Besides, I'm a bit selfish. I'd like to see how
she does in that contest you have devised for her. It turns me
on to think of getting to see her try to stuff a cock deep into
her throat. Time to decide what to do, I see Philip's truck
coming down the road."

"Okay, Melissa, here is the deal. You go through with the
blow job scenario that we described earlier. After he has cum,
then Michael and I will be the ones to tell him about you. He
will be given the opportunity to spend the night with you or
reject you, though I honestly do not think he will. He will
also be asked to help us in your punishment and given the
opportunity to suggest ideas which will be decided on by
Michael, myself and Philip if he chooses to participate. You
take the chance that humiliation will be wide spread. Are the
terms acceptable to you?"

I answered in the affirmative just as Philip came through the
door. I greeted him at the door with a kiss and took his
packages from him. He sat on the sofa and I sat down beside
him. He did not wait for any signals but pulled me into his
arms and began kissing me full on the lips. I did everything
the way my aunt had told me to do it. As we continued to kiss,
he began to play with my breasts and I undid his belt and zipper
releasing his cock from its confines. I worked it with my hand
and tickled his balls with my fingers. I felt it grow even
larger than it had been. I worked up the courage to sink to my
knees before him. I stared at it for a few minutes. I studied
all the bulging veins in the shaft and the soft curve of its
purple head with its small slit in the very tip of it. I was
now even more amazed by its size as I saw it up close. I felt a
desire to kiss it out of awe. I swallowed hard and then lowered
my mouth toward it. I kissed it softly and ;et the bulbous head
pass between my lips and into my mouth. I had expected the
taste to be quite foul. It wasn't. It was very salty, but at
the same time had a sweetness to it. I licked its head with my
tongue and discovered I liked the taste and took more of the
cock into my mouth. I was determined to show my aunt how good a
cock sucker I could be. I would be able to get this huge cock
into my throat or die trying. As soon as it hit the back of my
mouth I had to gag on it. I felt sick from it, but I wasn't
giving up yet. I tilted my head a bit and took it in again.
This time it went further in. I paused as I approached the gag
point. I waited until I was breathing freely with my nose and
then let a bit more of his sweet tender cock into my mouth. As
I continued to take it deeper and deeper into my throat, I found
that if I paused once in a while I could control my gag reflex.
In only a few minutes I was kissing his balls. I had done it.
I had swallowed all of it. Now the concentration was on making
him cum. I used my tongue as much as I could but it was pretty
much held in one position by the enormous size of his cock
filling my mouth and throat to capacity. I knew I would have to
treat my mouth as a cunt and have it go in and out using the
friction to bring about his ejaculation.

I started very slowly, but as I relaxed, I began to increase
the pace of motions. My head was going up and down on that long
thick shaft. As I got my lips to the head I was able to see my
saliva mixed with his precum. This sight only increased my
desire for it and I began attacking him with a greater vigor.
It seemed like an eternity, but it was only a few minutes before
I felt his whole body tense up and he exploded into my mouth.
Spurt after spurt of his warm seminal fluid filled my mouth and
throat. I gagged at first but found a swallowing rhythm that
prevented it. It tasted wonderful, and I felt positively
satisfied that I had succeeded in emptying him so well. I
deserved the reward I was receiving of his warm salty-sweet
milk. I had worked hard for it and I knew the pleasure it was
bringing him to have such a release. I also felt a deep inner
yearning to have him fuck me and spend the night holding me in
his arms. A woman has her needs as much as a man, and at this
moment I was all woman and enjoying it. Once the spasms ceased
I cleaned off his shaft with my tongue trying to find as much of
his cum as I could even sucking it out of his pubic hairs. He
simply fell back against the sofa in exhaustion and ecstasy.

"That was quite a display, Melissa. You have won the bet,
but first we have that other matter to get out of the way.
Philip are you still with us?"

"Yes, why?"

"Because, dear brother, we have something to tell you and
need you alert enough to hear it. We have been deceiving you
all night. Melissa is not Nancy's niece. She is really her
nephew. I know it is kind of hard to believe considering how
pretty she is and how wonderfully she can suck a cock. But, it
is true. She is a he. Let me tell you what happened from the
beginning."

Philip listened intently as Michael retold the story he had
gotten from Aunt Nancy. He still had a hard time believing that
I was really a boy. He even emphasized that they were telling
him now at my insistence on telling him the truth. Michael did
not leave out a single detail and included the fact that I had
said that I would like him to fuck me. He insisted that I was a
girl, so they made me raise my skirt and pull my panties down so
he could see my penis tucked up between my legs. Nancy added,
"Philip, you are right about one thing she is not a man, but she
is male. Look at the size of that puny little thing between her
legs. It's useless and degrading. I know some girls that have
clits bigger than that. So what do you think? Do we keep the
secret in the family and have some fun with her or what?"

"I can go along with that. I just want one ground rule set
down from the beginning, however. She remains as a girl in our
relationship. I will have nothing to do with that thing she
calls a cock. She gets fucked as a woman and sucks me off, but
hers stays hidden. Is that okay with everyone?"

I had no say in the matter, but it was agreeable with me.
Aunt Nancy and Michael both agreed also. Philip said that I
could be his steady girl all the time I was in Florida. I would
have to date him and he would use me sexually. As they were
discussing my fate, they decided that it would be fun to have me
live as Philip's wife for the next four weeks. I would have to
cook for him and have sex with him at his command. They decided
it would be fitting to have a mock wedding to commemorate the
occasion. Since my mother and grandparents were due in Florida
the next day, they decided to wait until then to have the
ceremony and said it would be fitting if we did not consummate
our marriage until after the ceremony. Aunt Nancy said that she
would talk to the bridal shop owners about getting me a bridal
gown for tomorrow night during my modeling session for them.
Philip was asked to wear a tux and Michael would be the best man
and Aunt Nancy would be my maid of honor. My grandfather was
going to be asked to give me away. I was not sure how my mother
and grandparents were going to react to this situation. I knew
what Aunt Nancy had told me when they were told about me
dressing as a girl, but how would they react to me taking on the
role of a man's wife which would include having sex with him. I
had to wait to find out that Aunt Nancy had already discussed
the possibility with them. They thought it was going a bit too
far, but felt it was her decision to make and they would not
interfere with it and would gladly help out with my humiliation
any way they could. At this point I was already facing a
problem. I was feeling a strong desire to be Philip's sex
partner. The thought repulsed me and yet inwardly I wanted to
have him fuck me. The discussion came to an end as Aunt Nancy
announced that it was time for her to pay off on the bet we had
made. She dropped to her knees and told me to get her video
camera out and start taping her. She wrapped her lips around
Michael's cock and in mere minutes she was receiving his cream
down her throat. I then followed them into the bedroom with the
camera and taped them as they fucked for the next hour. Before
climbing into bed Aunt Nancy did a strip tease for the camera.
She continued dancing in the nude for several minutes before
jumping on top of Michael and going at it with him. They were
like two a****ls in heat as they grabbed at one another and
began their sexual activities. Michael wasted no time on
foreplay as he took aim with his cock and shoved it into her wet
cunt. He pumped her hard and furious with it, as she screamed
for him to, "Fuck me harder! Shove that cock in me as hard as
you can! I want to feel you coming out of my mouth. Oh, Yes!
Give it to me, Michael!"

I took pictures of them from every angle and I could feel my
insides longing to be in her position having a large juicy cock
filling me to the depths of my bowels. I longed to have lips
pressed to mine and have hands squeezing my breasts. Most of
all I wanted that cock pumping in and out of me bringing me the
ecstasy that I could see on Aunt Nancy's face and hear in her
words as she continued to beg for more. I wanted to be a woman,
and I even started to hold the camera in only one hand and reach
out toward Philip's cock. He had become rock hard himself. I
undid his zipper once again and let his pants fall to the floor.
I wrapped my hand around his thick shaft and began stroking
him. I didn't care how steady the picture was I was going to
get as much cock as I could. After filming Michael's climax and
the way Aunt Nancy used her tongue to clean him off, I set the
camera down and began deep throating Philip in earnest. If I
couldn't have his cock inside my ass then I wanted it in my
mouth. I attacked him as voraciously as I could. I was
determined to drain him of all the creamy white cum he could
produce. He did not disappoint me. He poured gallon upon
gallon down my throat and he collapsed from the exhaustion of my
attack and how much I had drained him. After licking him clean,
I looked up to see that my efforts were now a part of the video
tape as I saw my aunt standing there with the camera in hand and
running. "You will have to let me video tape your marriage
ceremony and your wedding night deflowering as well to complete
this tape."

It was at this time that Aunt Nancy had me dress in a night
gown and removed my makeup. she gave me a silk robe to wear
over it and then we said goodnight to Michael and Philip. We
each got kissed as they said goodnight and walked out the door.
Aunt Nancy made me pack all my male clothing into my suitcase
and deliver it to her room. "I don't want you to be allowed to
dress as anything but a female and if I have your clothes, you
will have no choice since there is nothing of Michael's here
yet. I'll see you in the morning when we will have some more
lessons in being a woman. I'll teach you how to do your own
makeup, and how to style your own hair. Have a good night's
sleep, Melissa."

It was hard to sleep thinking about all that happened to me
that day. I tossed and turned as I began to think about the day
to come and the next four weeks as Philip's wife. I thought
about my return home and how my mother had told my aunt that I
would have to work as a waitress at our restaurant. Most of my
thoughts focused on the fact that I liked being a girl, but that
I knew I shouldn't want to be one. I asked myself if this is
what I really wanted in my life and whether or not I would ever
go back to being a boy. My mind raced about all the different
things that could happen. I wondered what my mother was going
to say when she stepped off the plane and greeted her daughter
rather than her son. I also wondered what my grandfather was
going to say about me becoming a girl, after all the time he
spent taking me fishing and to ball games. I thought about
losing my anal virginity to Philip. I wanted it and yet I was
frightened of it. What was going to be expected of me over the
next four weeks as his wife? Was I just there for sex or would
we be going places and doing things together? I wouldn't find
out until it happened.

In the morning, Aunt Nancy brought me into her room to select
an outfit for me to wear for the day. Our first activity was to
go to the bridal shop for my modeling session. They had hired a
professional photographer and a beautician for the job. I was
dressed and made-up in many different ways. They had me as a
bride, a bridesmaid, a prom queen, and as an formal dinner
guest. I had forgot to mention that they had also hired a
professional male model to be the groom, the usher, my prom date
and my dinner e*****. Photographs were taken of me separately
as well as in his company. It took almost seven hours to
complete the session. I was very tired when we were done. Aunt
Nancy told the people about me going through a pretend wedding
and asked if I could get a bridal gown to use and keep for my
future. They were happy to oblige. The photographer liked my
work as a model so well, he insisted on helping me build a
portfolio and putting me in touch with a modeling agency. He
made an appointment for the following week to take some
portraits of me and to introduce me to an agent. From the
bridal shop we had to go to the airport to pick up my mother and
grandparents. They were shocked at how pretty I was as a girl
more so than seeing me dressed as one. Aunt Nancy told them
about the modeling job and the offer from the photographer.
They were impressed and said they could see where I might
qualify for that type of career. I died of embarrassment. Aunt
Nancy then told them about the wedding that was going to be held
that night and they all had a good laugh and said they hoped I
would be happy with him. I was then told that I would be kept
as a girl when I returned home as well and that my mother had
already thrown out all my male clothing after Aunt Nancy had
called her and told her about my desires and her punishment.
She even told me that if I decided to go to college I would go
as a girl and that she had contacted a friend of hers who could
have all my id's and records changed to show me as a girl. I
was fighting a losing battle as I realized they were doing
everything to me except removing my penis. I could do nothing
to prevent it. Mother even handed me three bottles of pills. I
was informed that one was a prescription for birth control
pills, the second was female hormones, and the third was a d**g
I had never heard of but I was told that it was to reduce my
testosterone level. I was to be transformed into a girl as much
as they could without surgery. All of the prescriptions were
issued to Melissa Louise Reynolds.

"You look so beautiful as a girl. When Nancy told me about
dressing you as a girl, I tried to picture what you would look
like and I knew you could probably pass as a girl, but I
expected you to be a bit more plain in appearance. Those
breasts that Nancy gave you make all the difference in the world
and the fact that you have soft features only makes me wonder if
I ever really had a son. I think you have always been a girl in
disguise. I am glad that the real you has finally emerged. I
am sorry i only have a few hours right now to get to know my
daughter more. But you will be getting married and going off
with your husband like a good wife should. I hope we can do
some things together before I return home Sunday. I think it
will be fun to do some shopping together."

My grandfather also said he liked the way I looked as a girl
and said he had always thought of me more as a sissy than a boy
by the way I was never really happy when we went fishing and I
never played any sports. "The truth always has a way of coming
out, Melissa. It may take some years, but it always comes out.
The truth is you are more suited to being a girl than you are a
man. I'm happy with you no matter what you decide about your
life and your grandmother and I will always love you dearly."

Aunt Nancy got the car while I helped them get their luggage
and listened to them talk about how I made such a pretty girl
and that they hoped I would be a good wife for Philip. Mother
told me what she thought I should do for him on my wedding night
and talked to Aunt Nancy about doing a little shopping for a
sexy see through negligee for me to wear in the bedroom with
Philip. She also bought me several bra and panty sets with
matching garter belts and teddies. She wanted me to always
appear my sexiest for him from the skin out. This had become
more than a game. It had gone far beyond the form of a
punishment. It may have started out as one but it had become a
new life style. David Allen Reynolds had ceased to exist from
this day. Melissa Louise Reynolds was now living in my body and
she was one of the sexiest and luckiest girls alive. She had a
family who loved her and a boyfriend that wanted her in his sex
life and a new career in modeling to pursue. She was looking
forward to every new day and every new event. Not knowing what
was going to happen next was part of the fun in her life. She
drew each breath with a renewed vigor as she thought about her
wedding night to come. Could she fulfill all of her beloved
Philip's needs? The conversation on the way back to Aunt
Nancy's house consisted mainly of plans for my wedding that
night. We discussed where I would spend my wedding night and
whether or not I would go on a honeymoon. My grandparents
decided that there wedding gift for me would be to pay for three
nights at a Walt Disney World Hotel. Philip and I would not
return until the night before Aunt Nancy's wedding for the
rehearsal.

We brought in all of the luggage and packages. I was made to
carry all of them to the appropriate rooms. My male clothing
was then thrown into a trash bag and my suitcase filled with
several female outfits for me to wear on my honeymoon. The next
couple of hours were spent getting me ready in my bridal gown.
Philip arrived right on time and looked quite handsome in his
tux. A make shift altar was erected in the living room. I
also discovered that somehow they had talked the minister of
their church into performing the ceremony. They had even
managed to get us a real marriage license from the town clerk.
This marriage was going to be legal and binding upon Melissa and
Philip. As long as I remained Melissa, which everyone was
insisting upon, I was going to be Philip's wife unless we went
through a divorce. I cannot possibly explain my feelings as I
walked with my grandfather down the aisle as the wedding march
played on the stereo. I was holding onto his arm for support as
I almost fainted when I realized just how far this punishment
had brought us. I was trapped and there was no escape possible.
We reached the altar where Philip and Michael were standing on
one side and Aunt Nancy was on the other having walked down just
in front of us. My grandfather took my hand and placed it in
Philip's then turned to sit down.

"Dearly Beloved, We are gathered here this evening to join in
holy matrimony the two hearts of Melissa Louise Reynolds and
Philip James Morrison. If there is anyone present that objects
to this union, let them speak now or forever hold their peace.
Do you Philip James Morrison tale Melissa Louise Reynolds to be
your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold in sickness and
in health? For richer or poorer? To love and honor until death
do you part?"

"I do."

"Do you Melissa Louise Reynolds take Philip James Morrison to
be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold, in
sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, to love, honor and
obey until death do you part?"

"I do."

"Having made these vows, are there symbols of them to be
presented? Philip, place the ring on her finger and repeat after
me. With this ring, I thee wed. This ring is the symbol of my
love for you and shall serve as a bond between us forever. Now
Melissa, place the ring on his finger and repeat after me. With
this ring, I thee wed. This ring is the symbol of my love for
you and shall be a bond between us forever. Having heard your
vows before these witnesses with the power vested in me by God
and the State of Florida, I now pronounce you husband and wife.
You may kiss the bride. And now it is my pleasure to present to
all Mr. and Mrs. Morrison."

We had a small reception but with all the formalities of a
first dance, a champagne toast, the cutting of the cake, the
bouquet toss and the garter toss. They even threw rice as we
left to go on our honeymoon. Philip and I ran to his car which
had been decorated for the occasion, tin cans and all. We drove
to Walt Disney World in Orlando. It was only a few towns away.
The desk clerk checked us in and congratulated us on our
marriage. He had a bellhop e***** us to our room. Philip
scooped me into his arms and carried me over the threshold as a
smiling bellhop looked on. I was in shock as I was not
expecting it. Philip dropped me on the bed and tipped the
bellhop. The moment of truth was now here. Philip approached
me and threw his arms around my waist, drawing me close to him.
His lips came pressing hard and moist onto mine. His tongue
came through my lips seeking the depths of my mouth. He was
telling me in no uncertain terms that he wanted to make love to
me. The passion of the moment was getting to each of us. He
helped me unzip my dress and it fell to the floor. I helped him
remove his tuxedo and his underwear. I dropped to my knees and
sucked his cock into my mouth and worked it until I could kiss
his balls with my lips. His juices tasted even better than the
day before. He seemed harder and more determined to fill me
with his love meat. He was on the verge of ejaculating when he
pushed me onto my back and raised my legs into the air. He
quickly removed my panties and then put his saliva covered cock
into my ass. It was very painful when he first forced his way
in, but as he took his time and began to work his way in and
then back out again the pain surrendered to pleasure. He shoved
his huge cock deep into my bowels. I wanted it to come out of
my mouth so I could taste it as well as feel it. The pleasure
that evolved as he worked that monster of his was indescribable.
I got to the point that I did not want him to stop. I was
screaming for him to "FUCK ME HARDER" He was happy to oblige.

His rhythm became faster and faster. His sense of urgency
and desire were at its peak. Then with one last thrust he
buried himself deep inside of me and released his seed. That
delicious white cream filling my insides sent shivers down my
spine. My insides were filled with a warm satisfaction. I
could feel every spurt, every spasm of his cock. I was a true
woman now, and I loved the feeling. Philip collapsed on top of
me as his ejaculation came to an end. He kissed me and said he
had never felt so completely drained in all his life. He said
he was glad that I was his wife and that he was looking forward
to many nights of wonderful sex with me for years to come. He
told me that he had spoken to my mother and that it was agreed
that it would be my choice to live back in Massachusetts or here
in Florida. He had just finished getting his bachelor's degree
in business administration and he could settle anywhere with me.
I chose to return to Massachusetts. I knew that I could work
at the restaurant until he found a job and that jobs were more
available for him in Massachusetts. We both decided to try to
make the marriage work and to have me become a woman fully with
the surgery. There was no turning back. The road ahead would
be filled with many bumps and embarrassing moments, but we were
now determined to make it work. family caused the most
difficulty. Sex, however, was never a disappointment for either
of us and there was always something new to try.



THE END (for now!)

Melissa Louise Morrison



























Servant of Servants

by an60355@anon.penet.fi (Francis R.)

I nervously climbed the stairs and searched in dirty corridors smelling
of refuse before I found the apartment. For my heartbeat to steady, I
paused briefly before knocking, and noticed the television set playing
inside. Some seconds later the door was opened by Sabrina, to whom I had
come to offer myself as a slave.
She was carelessly dressed in cheap worn-out clothes, a knitted plaid
covering her shoulders; she was eating a sandwich and, chewing, looked
at me for a few seconds, then asked me what I wanted, expressing disgust
and boredom.
I candidly answered that I had been told she might accept me as her
slave. She swallowed, took another bite and, again chewing, grunted and
indicated that I could follow her inside. She opened the toilet door and
pushed me in, telling me to take off all my clothes and wait.
She locked me in and I took off my clothes and squatted on the cold,
tiled floor. I considered masturbating while kissing the toilet seat, to
have some anticipated, indirect contact with my future mistress, but I
understood how I would be punished if caught in such an act on the very
first evening of my bondage, and so I only experienced the psychological
satisfaction of feeling my penis hard with excitement between my legs.
I spent quite some time waiting idly for my new mistress: she watched
the television show I had so boldly interrupted. Then she came to the
toilet, opened it and walked a few steps towards the living room, where,
slapping her thigh as if calling a dog, she told me to follow her, and I
obeyed, crawling on all fours behind her, into her tiny living room,
which was decorated with damp wallpaper and furniture fit for the
rubbish heap.
She sat down in a chair, crossed her legs and ordered me to kneel
before her; she excelled at commanding, stating her wishes with such
energy that she could make mere words be as effective as a sharp blow of
her clenched fist on a servant's genitals - which is no gratuitous
metaphor: during my brief subsequent servitude I had the opportunity to
compare both and verify its literal truth.
I was ordered to look up into her eyes, which expressed superiority,
while my head remained at a few inches from the sole of her sandal; I
admired her heavy breasts and her strong arms, which she held crossed
under them, naked to the elbow; her muscles clearly betrayed that she
performed manual labour regularly.
Looking down on me, she asked me for my name, address, job, earnings
etc. in minute detail; my answers had to be polite, complete, concise
and clear, lest her shod foot would strike out over the few inches
separating it from my head, and throw me down on the dirty carpet, only
for me to resume my position until the next kick.
Satisfied with my answers, she asked me whether I was sure of what I
was doing and I bent down before her while answering "yes", very close
to the insteps of her feet; she repeated her question and, looking at
her strong feet and painted toe-nails, I confirmed; she placed her right
foot on my neck, the heel of its sandal touching my head. Thus
annihilated under her foot, I felt delicious sexual excitement and
pressed my erect penis to the floor.
Sentence by sentence, she dictated the oath I had to swear, in which I
pledged my total obedience and submission to my mistress, whoever she
might be in the future, and gave her unconditionally all rights: to use
me, to sell me and to wound, maim or kill me, or to let someone else do
these to me; I would accept that my Owners use me as an object.
When I had sworn this by Almighty God, she pulled away her foot and,
seeing me remain prostrate before her, she said I was now allowed to
kiss her foot once, so I pressed my lips to the tip of her right foot,
the one which had crushed me, and kissed it along with the leather of
her sandal, picking up a trace of cheap perfumed soap.
She pulled back her foot and explained that to kiss her feet was a
great reward I would have to deserve, since she personally quite
disliked the feeling; this prohibition extended to the soles of her feet
and, more surprisingly, to the inner and outer soles of her sandals and
shoes.
Then she told me that her evening job was to clean offices in a
certain building, and fixed our next appointment there, just before her
working hours. In the toilet, she picked up my clothes and threw them
out, and I followed them; while I dressed silently in the corridor, she
forbade me to climax until the next meeting, and told me she would have
me castrated if I disobeyed.

* * *

Although I intended to obey her, I climaxed repeatedly in my sleep (or
at least that's my story), so, on the day of the appointment, I felt
quite worried in the lift as I went up to the floor where Sabrina would
meet me.
The door opened and she was standing there, waiting for me, now
wearing a green apron and holding a black leather whip. Taking the whip
in her right hand, she pointed it towards her feet, and I obeyed her in
kneeling down just before her, but dared not press a kiss to the tips of
her sandals.
She asked why I was still dressed and, when I wanted to answer, threw
the whip on my back and told me to keep quiet; the blow did not hurt me,
for I was still protected by my clothes. She then ordered me to take
them all off and I obeyed, rapidly taking off my jacket, tie, shirt,
shoes, socks etc.
When I was almost naked another woman came in, Rita, a buxom brunette,
also dressed in the regulation green apron, but I noticed she wore brown
stockings and green sneakers. I hesitated, looking at Rita, but my
mistress, turning back, saw her friend and told me I would serve her as
a second mistress.
I took off my slip and tried to hide my nakedness a little, but
Sabrina said there would be no impropriety for me to be naked and
receive punishment in the presence of Rita; she then threw the lash
repeatedly on my back - the strokes were very painful now, but I
received them silently, prostrate at her feet.
She told me that my normal greeting of her at the beginning of my work
would henceforth be to kiss her knees (under no circumstance her feet!),
and I had to do so at once, pressing my lips to her kneecaps, with
silent delight, touching her thighs with the tips of my fingers when my
hands slid up under her apron.
After a few kisses she stopped me, making the word sound as a stroke
of the whip. I lay naked and vulnerable before her when she asked me
whether I had obeyed her and abstained from climaxing? She added to this
that my punishment would be castration if I had disobeyed, but that it
also certainly would be castration were I to lie.
Bending before her and apprehensively squeezing my penis between my
legs, I admitted guilt. She walked around me, to see me from behind, and
ordered me to open my legs: I knew that she was about to punish me, but
nevertheless obeyed. She then kicked my testicles half a dozen times,
hitting them with the tip of her right sandal, ignoring my cries of
pain; then she announced that my actual punishment would be postponed,
but that I really should obey her totally, even in her absence.
I was then set to work, performing the ladies' cleaning task on the
whole floor assigned to them. This was to become the core element of my
bondage to Sabrina and Rita: they simply had me to all their work, and I
was very happy to comply.
During the work, they ignored me most of the time, but every now and
then Rita would approach silently to inspect, and if I displeased her
she would suddenly throw the whip on my back to punish my shortcomings.
The women ordinarily chatted and gossiped together, so that I had to
listen carefully during work to notice if my Mistress Sabrina clapped
her hands once, thereby calling me to perform some menial task for her
and Rita, like pouring out coffee or clearing the table.
Small mistakes in their personal service were punished by loud slaps
to my face, whereas mistakes in the cleaning were punished using the
whip: I then had to kneel at the feet of the lady who wanted to see me
punished and I could look at them while the other lady would whip me. At
the end of these punishments, Rita always allowed me to kiss the tips of
her shoes.
When I have completed the chores, the women come to inspect my work;
they take me along with them and look at the different rooms I had to
clean, at the toilets and the cleaning tools. They carry out this
inspection barefoot, carrying their sandals so as not to leave any marks
on the clean floor. I must lick clean all neglected, dirty spots they
find, before being whipped on site for my carelessness.
Back at the lift, I kneel at the ladies' feet to wash them before
helping them put back on their shoes; I must use what is available: cold
water and detergent soap. With Rita, I must take great care to dry her
stockings too; the pleasure I feel when holding my ladies' feet and
making myself useful to them far exceeds the pain of the corrections and
the discomfort of the work. When my ladies' feet are clean, they put on
their coats and leave. I can then also dress and take the next lift
down.

* * *

At the end of the week, when the evening work was done, my Mistresses
briefly discussed what to do with me during the week-end; while I washed
her feet, Rita recalled the ancient truth that a man alone is in bad
company, so the ladies decided to toss a coin in order to determine who
of them would take me along to her place until next Monday evening. Rita
won (or maybe lost, from her viewpoint): I would stay with her.
Next, I crawled to Sabrina to wash her feet, too, regretting that she
never let me kiss them; with marked irony, she told Rita: "Since you'll
have the privilege of his presence, I'll just take this in compensation"
and picked my credit card from my jacket.
"Boy!" she called me to attention, heavily pressing the sole of her
foot on my neck, increasing my erection even further - "How much
immediate credit does it have?"
"$6000, Mistress."
"That'll do." I could hear her smile through her voice. "What's the
code?" She increased the weight on my neck to ensure a speedy answer.
"Thirty-five twenty, Mistress."
"You IDIOT!" - and she slapped the lash over the pink traces she had
inflicted earlier, when Rita had found a stray cigarette end in a
supposedly cleaned corridor - "Couldn't you have changed that to
something easier to remember?" I remained silent: there was no reasoning
against the charge.
"Thirty-five twenty" Sabrina repeated to herself, while Rita had me
stand up before her, still naked, untied her belt and slipped it around
my neck, to use it as a rudimentary lead.
"Thirty-five twenty" Sabrina repeated, leaving, and Rita had me take
my clothes along with me; we took the following lift down to the
underground parking and, while I was afraid that someone might stop the
lift on its way down and see us, Rita just carelessly took hold of my
testicles and squeezed them a little.
In the parking, she took me to her car and had me put my clothes in
the boot, then told me to get in there too, and I had to curl up as well
as possible, wedging myself between my clothes and sundry old rags and
mechanic tools and the spare tyre before she could close the boot.
She was in no hurry, knowing that I was safely locked up; I heard her
switch on the radio and she probably smoked a cigarette before even
starting the car. Then she drove away, quite slowly, maybe because she
thought I might be hurt by the disparate rubbish I shared the boot with;
in the meantime, I recalled how my Mistresses had bossed me around and I
slowly masturbated thinking of them, especially of Rita, who was
certainly the most attractive in her unsophisticated bounciness; then I
wiped off the semen with one of the rags.
Finally, we arrived at our destination, and she got out of the car to
let me out of the boot; we were in another underground parking lot, and
she had me follow her up to her apartment, which, I found out later, was
situated in a council estate building neighbouring Sabrina's.
Still being pulled by the improvised lead, still naked and holding my
rolled-up clothes, I was led into her apartment, where she untied my
neck and resolutely grabbed my penis to pull me behind her into her
bedroom.
There, she turned to me, pushing her large breasts against me, and
looked me in the eyes; she placed her hands on my shoulders, as shorter
women do when they want to be kissed, but pressed them down a little,
indicating that I should kneel down. When my head was at the height of
her navel, she placed her hands on me and again slightly pushed me, so I
went further down, all the way to her knees and her ankles, and then she
placed her shod right foot on my head and pushed it completely to the
floor: "That's your place, boy, never forget it!"
Then she let me untie her shoe-laces and take off her shoes; I
delighted in handling her elegant little stockinged feet, and
spontaneously pressed my lips to their insteps while supporting their
soles, but she soon kicked me away and added two firm kicks to my
genitals in order to calm me down, which worked.
Then she directed me to her wardrobe where I had to fetch some party
clothes for her: stiletto-heeled patent leather mules and an assorted
micro-skirt and skimpy top. Next, I helped her in taking off her
stockings and working clothes and putting on the new items; she sat down
before a mirror and had me brush her hair while she selected cheap,
plastic jewels that might gain splendour under erratic lighting, and put
on excessive make-up.
Before leaving on her clicking stiletto heels, she guided me into the
living-room and, holding my testicles, instructed me to clean her small
apartment; as a reward, I would be allowed to polish her collection of
boots afterwards - "But not before EVERYTHING's clean!" she added,
tugging at my scrotum.
Those were easy orders to obey - one need not be a quantum physicist
to vacuum carpets properly - and two hours later I could sit down on the
bedroom floor, naked, and start a minute polishing of my Mistress' boot
collection, none of which was actually in need of treatment, but I
enjoyed imagining Rita wearing them, and myself imploring her, prostrate
at her feet.















THE ULTIMATE REVENGE


(mm, nc, magic, tg, femdom) By: Realman

This story is intended for adults above the age of 18. If you are not
18 years or older, please do not read any further.





Jack woke up nude and strapped on a bed in some kind of clinic and was
asking himself why he was there and who brought him here. The door opened
and a very good looking woman came by the bed.

"Who are you and why I am naked and strapped on that bed?" asked Jack.

"My name is Brenda and I run an agency that specializes in receiving
complaints of women sexually harassed by men."

"That doesn't explain why I am here!"

"Oh yes, it does. We received over ten complaints about your behavior.
You harassed eight of them and ****d the two others. We have proof of
these acts."

"These hysterical women all enjoyed being crushed by me. Sometimes they
deserved a little male authority just to remind them who's the boss!"

"Obviously, they didn't share your opinion and they told me you must pay
for the hell you made them live."

"But, you know, I am a young man and I love women. Sometime, I can't
control myself. I need to have them for me... please don't hurt me."

"Our agency never hurt anybody...at least not physically. You're a
tough case and we decided that you deserve strong punishment. We will
change your behavior with a special serum specially designed for pigs like
you. Your problem is about power and control so we chose a serum that is
design to make you loose these features."

She took out a vial and a syringe from a drawer and fill up the syringe.
Then she look at Jack and told him: "I will now inject you with the
ultimate revenge serum. Please stand still and show me your cock. You
will feel this serum in your cock as if it was on fire, but you will take
it as a man."

"What is it and what it will do?" asked Jack.

"You're a little bit too curious and you will know soon enough. With
that d**g, you will never bother any girls again and you might feel a lot
less in control of yourself."

"Please don't do that to me. I promise to be nice to you and the others
for as long as I live."Jack was now feeling his cock as if it was burning.

"It's too late, Jack. The d**g is now flowing inside your cock, filling
it with a very nasty substance that will soon spread throughout your entire
body.I'm just sure everything that will happen to you, you deserve. Let me
now explain you some of the things that will happen to you because of this
d**g. I'm sure you will enjoy this." She threw the empty syringe in the
basket.

"After the absorption of the d**g I just injected you, you'll be
strongly attracted only by men. You'll be turned on by them and want to
have sex with them. You won't be able to see a man without thinking about
his cock, his balls, his sperm. You will dream about them days and
nights."

"You can't make me gay. I will always love women" Jack said.

"Who is talking about love? Your body will urge you to have sex with
all men but you will still be free of loving who you want. Each time
you'll see a man, your body will scream "sex" and you won't be able to
fight this attraction."

"You will also be strongly addicted to sperm. You will crave for it all
the time and enjoy the taste of it so much. As you are a man, you will
soon supply yourself."

"What! You expect me to swallow my cum! You're crazy or what!!"

"You can't imagine yet how strong this addiction will be. Be sure you
will be more than willing making your cock spurt in your mouth. In
comparison to what you're about to experiment, addiction to heroin is
nothing!"

You will find yourself very sexy and the sight of your man's body will
arouse you to extreme limit.You will feel unbearable urge jacking off all
the time. Your balls will grow rapidly in order to adjust to your body
needs.You'll have so heavy balls that it will hang just above knee level.It
will be impossible to put them inside your underwear and it will be very
difficult for you to walk as these balls will always be in your way.This
will be very bothersome. These big balls will urge to empty themselves, so
you will experiment continuous cum leaking without erection or
stimulation.This leaking will last as long as you will live and the amount
of cum you will ejaculate will be about two ounce an hour. Don't worry,
your big fat balls will have the special ability to constantly stimulate
cum production from your body.They will also command your penis to increase
in length and diameter in order to reach 18 inches flacid,matching the size
of your balls. They will take total control over your brain, producing
some substances that will screw up your brain chemistry.As your brain is
now under the control of your balls, it's easy to know what will be your
main activity."

"Are you telling me I will become some kind of sex monster and will
enjoy it?"

"The serum is not design to make you enjoy these changes, deep inside
yourself, you'll be upset and frustrated at all time."

You will soon crave to have all this hot sperm in your ass, so you will
insert that special tube in your pee hole and the dildo end in your ass and
while you fill yourself with your own cum..You will be so strongly addicted
to it,that you will fight not to unplug your butt from your sperm supply,
although you will have to in order to empty you bowel once in a while.
During that time , you will experiment withdrawal syndrome,screaming and
crying all the time, craving for your cum. So you will plug you back as
soon as possible.

"O.K., I've listen to you enough! Just untie me and we'll forget about
all this pervert discussion. Anyway, I don't believe you're able to make
me turn out as you say."

"We anticipated this reaction and in order to make you believe me, your
about to feel very strange tickling and squezzing in your balls, then your
cock will start slowly leaking some cum. You won't feel any pleasure from
that but it will upset you as it will never stop and the flow of sperm will
slowly increase, making you feel really weird."

"Ah! ah!, you think you're funny! What a stupid bitch you are.You
deserve..." Jack suddenly stop speaking. He looked at Brenda with
interrogation marks in his eyes.

"Oupps! You start feeling something, don't you?" said Brenda with a
smile. Jack was trying to look down at his cock as he soon realised that
the tip of his cock was shining wet. He was also feeling as if his balls
were slowly and powerfully contacting repeatedly as if they wanted to expel
all their content.

"I'm sure it's only anxiety that makes a little humidity down my cock.
This is weird!"

"Maybe you should look at your cock again, it seems like nice hot sperm
to me! Before long, you'll be covered with your cum."

Jack looked at his cock again and start to panic. "What the hell have
you done to me! Stop that now or you will regret it."

"How can I regret it? I'm kind of enjoying myself seeing you pig
involuntarily loosing all that sperm and not having any more control on
your cock and balls! Anyway, this is so funny looking at your wild balls
and at your leaking cock!"

"How can I loose so much cum!!! Make it stop, stop! STOP!!!!!!!"

Jack felt his hot sperm slowly leaking from his flacid cock on his
abdomen as the tickling and squeezing in his balls were intensifying. He
was furious and violently tried to untie himself.

"Please let me go!"

"But my little story isn't over yet. Maybe you should listen carefully
to me because it is concerning your future.Where was I?Oh yes, I
remember...You will be horny forever, sucking furiously every man that you
will see.If you unplug yourself for more than 5 minutes, your body will
react producing huge amount of female hormones, thus making you a
"she-male" 24 hours after you cut off your cum supply. Female hormone
production will stop immediatly if you plug yourself back but the effects
are cummulative and irreversible.

"You bitch is saying that I could turn out a woman. What a hell!"

"By the way, I forgot to tell you cum craving will soon start, so I
better untie you. Anyway you can't leave because your leg are *******ed."
She began to untie Jack.

"It's not to soon! So you think I can't leave? Look at me!" He tried
to get out of the bed but felt heavily on the floor.

"I told you...better listen to me or you might hurt yourself. Don't you
begin experiencing a funny craving in your mouth? Isn't the smell of fresh
sperm turning you on? Why don't you please yourself Jack? Maybe I should
help you."

"You dirty bitch think I can't control myself and that I will act as a
fag! You make a big mistake and I'll make you suck my dick and I'll fuck
you."

"That's a bad attitude for such a weak man. I bet you'll never be able
to fuck a woman again. This serum is about to make you loose all control
over your sex life and you're still insulting me!" She put her finger in
Jack's cum on his abdomen then bring it slowly to his mouth.

"Mmmm! It look so good for such a hungry mouth as yours."

"You think you can make me do anything, I'm not a slave!"

" When the crave will kick in, it will strike you as lightning!"

After a few moment, Jack suddenly seemed overwhelmed with panic.

"Oh my god, what is happening to me! I can't believe it! I must resist
this urge." He was staring at the finger, then hungrily suck it, moaning in
ecstasy.

"There you are. You know where you can have some more, don't you?" Jack
felt humiliated and angry as he stared with lust at his leaking cock and
his shining abdomen covered with hot sperm. He shyly began wetting a
finger with cum, then suck it but the urge to have cum in his mouth seems
rapidly to increase. He soon swept his whole hand on his abdomen, getting
large amount of cum to his hungry mouth.

"I have to stop acting like a fag but this is so good, I can't help
myself"

"You'll be surprised how much you'll swallow. You'll never have enough
to satisfy your crave. Mmmm... enjoying the taste? Never tought you would
have been loving your cum so much, dear Jack."

"Please make me stop, its so humiliating! Tell me I am about to stop
swallowing my cum."

"Oh but Jack, this is just the beginning of this. Better get used to it
because this serum is so powerfull your urge will increase to extreme
lever."

"You're such a bitch" said Jack unable to stop licking his own cum
wildly.

"There are some interesting side effects of the d**g: All the sperm you
drink will attack your teeths and you will loose them all very soon. It
will make you a better cock sucker for all men to enjoy.There will also be
a special substance in your saliva that will make the men you suck feel
very intense and addicting orgasms. This substance will also make them
ejaculate like crazy, draining them dry as you need sperm so much.So, they
will be very regular clients and I will recruits new ones.Before long, you
will always have a hard dick feeding your hungry mouth."?

She looked back at him only to realise his balls already started
growing. They were now about twice their original size.

"Look at these marvelous balls! It seems it will be a little tough to
drain them dry. Hope you like them big, Jack, because they're growing at
an amazing speed!" Breda laughed. Jack has just begun masturbating in order
to have more cum. He was screaming with desire, sweating and shaking,
desperatly in need for sperm.

"After a year of great all men sex, I will make sure at least a man
unplug you in order to buttfuck you. At this time,your sperm will contain
a subtance that is rapidly absorbed through the intact skin and the man
that is buttfucking you will experiment very strong addiction to your ass.
This substance will also have very bothering side effects for you. It will
delay ejaculation by one minute each time,making you being buttfuck for
longer time and it will also increase the diameter of his cock, thus
stretching your ass always more and more. He will enjoy getting his cock
inside your ass as often as he can.Foreign sperm in your ass will make you
feel very intense orgasm that will last about an hour. You'll be screaming
in ecstasy, sweating and convulsing all the time.During these orgasms, your
arms will be *******ed making you impossible to plug yourself back,so you
will feminized yourself at the same time. You will hate the feminizing
effects and try to avoid buttfuck, but as you don't have any free will, all
men will have absolute control over you making you impossible to fight
against them.When the foreign sperm will be absorbed by your body, the
orgasm and *******is will subside but it will strongly stimulate your ass
cum craving. You will be able to supply yourself as cum production will
increase each time a man ejaculate in your ass. Foreign sperm will also
make your anal muscles relax at all time, so cum will always leak from it
and the tube will fall out very often as your anus will not contract
anymore.It will also strongly intensify your crave for sucking cocks.
Soon, you will be so much in heat that you will not be in control of
yourself, attacking every men in sight and filling yourself with tremendous
amount of sperm.

Jack was now fingering his ass at the same time he was stroking his
cock. He lubrificate his ass with cum and tried to introduce some inside
it.

"Poor little Jack! Your ass needs sperm as much as your mouth now! How
can you fill yourself both ways! I will soon make you meet some very nice
gentlemen who will be more than willing letting you suck their big hard
cocks."

"Help me somebody!! I can't stand it, I feel so wild!" Jack screamed,
getting another load of cum to his mouth.

"You're quite a sight! I never tought your balls would have become so
big" said Brenda now playing with the special tube intended to make Jack
able to fill his ass.

"At this stage, even if you don't stroke your meat, your cock will
continue dripping cum. Your balls are now large enough to supply
continuous flow of sperm. Anyway, your cock is about to go soft."

Jack now realized how big were his balls and scrotum. They were as big
as g****fruit! His cock was now getting soft and constantly dripping cum,
as she said.

"These balls are not mine! This is monstruous. I can't live like that.
That stupid cock is always loosing sperm. That's crazy! How can I stop
that?!"

"Your balls are just making sure you have enough sperm to satisfy
yourself. You like your sperm so much! A pig like you deserve these heavy
balls and a big fat lazy dick so everybody will now see on what your life
is centered. There's no way you can hide these marvelous macho jewels now.
You'll soon regret being born a man!"

"Fuck you, sick bitch!" said Jack crying.

Brenda was staring at him, almost laughing: "I love the way your penis
is turning out with the special stimulation of your balls. It's getting
absolutely enormous but unresponsive to sexual stimulation. What a
pathetic cock: huge , always soft, without any signs of arousal and
continuously and weakly creaming incredible amount of rich, hot sperm
without any sexual pleasure! That's the cock every bastard like you should
have."

He was trying to suck every little drop of cum leaking from his cock
with passion but a large quantity was leaking on his balls and ass as he
wasn't able to get il all. There was absolute terror in his eyes as he
realised his body was now mostly dick and balls totally out of control.

"Your hands will now always urge to play with your big lazy cock and
balls, reminding you constantly how huge and unresponsive to stimulation
they are. You will also involontarily want to display your lovely male
jewels to make sure everybody have a full view over them, including
yourself.You will be very soon be unable to speak, as your balls are
producing a substance that rapidly destroy the speech center. You will
only be able to moan and shout, so nobody will be able to understand what
is happening to you. Maybe you should try speaking to me"

"mmmhhhnnnnooooooaaaa" Jack tried desperatly to get a word out of his
mouth but he was able to produce only a low passionate moan.

"That's quite sexy Jack. You'll always seem it heat from now on every
single time you'll open your mouth. The harder you'll try, the hornier it
will sound. That's a lot nicer than insults! Anyway, the d**g will make
sure you are constantly producing horny sounds as if you were a wild male
b**st in heat no matter how aroused you are. There is no way you can fight
this and it will make you ashamed of yourself. You'll be screaming your
sex urge to your heart content despite of yourself."

"aaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhooooooooooommmmmmmm" screamed Jack terror in his eyes.

"Very nice! You have some hidden talents" said Brenda enjoying herself.

"oooooommmmmmmaaahhhhhhhhhhh" screamed Jack as if he was climaxing.

No matter how hard he tried to remains silent, he was always
involontarily making powerfull climax sounds. He could not believe he was
making these erotic sounds.

"I almost forgot to tell you that your body will also act as if it was
it was in constant heat, thus matching with the wild sexy sounds you make.
You'll be caressing your body,sweating, breathing heavily and fast, having
muscle spasms all over you. This will make you a permanent advertisement
for sex. This will persist even during your sleep and even without any
kind of sexual arousement."

Jack was now experiencing a faked climax. Although he wasn't
experiencing any sexual pleasure, he was acting as if he was having a very
powerfull orgasm. He was trapped in a body on which he doesn't have any
control and he was upset to look at himself: He was acting like a wild
a****l, caressing himself with erotic passion and producing heavy climax
sound.

"Hope you're enjoying your man's body. You look so hot, you're almost
arousing me! Sorry your balls are now denying you any true sexual
satisfaction as this part of your brain is now strongly inhibited. "

The faked climax was varying in intensity but was never completely
subsiding. Jack was still hungrily eating all his cum dripping from his
huge soft cock.

The door bell rang.

"It should be the guys. You'll soon be amazed how savagely you will
sexually agress them. There, play with that tube during the time I am
answering the door."

Jack rapidly introduce the tube inside his huge shaft that was still
growing. As the tube filled itself with cum, he introduced the dildo end
in his ass. He heard some men talking and they were approaching. As soon
as they were in the room, Jack began to salivate in anticipation moaning
with desire. The first one approched Jack and as soon as he was close
enough of him, Jack ripped his pants and start sucking furiously the man.
The man soon was screaming with pleasure as he was beeing vaccumed by Jack.
He was soon dropping his huge load inside Jack's mouth. He felt an
incredible, long lasting orgasm. After that, he said, trying to catch his
breath.

" Boy, this man is wild! I've never been suck like that in my hole
life! "

Brenda was now looking at the scene: The second man was approching Jack.
"You are already quite pathetic, Jack but when you will have complete the
"she-male process", you'll look like a cheap hore with huge breast, big
butt, big lips. Your balls will gradually stop producing cum, thus making
you crave for all men to buttfuck you because your ass will need huge
amount of sperm. Your big cock and balls will gradually shrink back to
normal size after complete transformation. As a "she-male", you will be
completely insatiable with desire of cum in ass and mouth and you will have
a very special feature that you will soon experiment! You'll have a very
functional uterus and ovaries. During your transformation, your balls will
also connect themselves directly with your new uterus, thus making you
ejaculate only inside yourself. When you will ovulate, the proper hormonal
stimulation will make your cock rock hard and you will feel an unbearable
urge to masturbate. At the same time, you will involontarily start rocking
your pelvis, caressing your balls and tits and moan loudly untill eggs
fertilization process is over. As you will bring yourself to climax, you
will ejaculate sperm repeatedly on the emerging eggs untill multiple
pregnancy occurs. All this process will make your very frustrated and angry
as you'll never want to be pregnant but you will be unable to fight it .As
the cycle will repeat itself every 10 months till menauposis, you'll hate
the way your body controls your life. If you try to fight the urge of
masturbating when you ovulate, knowing what will happen, your body will
have the ability to slowly bring itself to climax again and again,
producing repeated involontary ejaculation, making sure you spread your
eggs with large amount of hot, thick sperm. As your uterus will not have
any external connection, you won't be able to interrupt your pregnancy and
you will deliver your c***dren by cesarian. I will hire a gynecologist who
will perfom the interventions. I will sell all your c***dren as you will
be only concerned servicing men and having their cum inside your body at
all time. After menoposis, you will be all male again, with cum leaking,
big balls and cum craving the very same way you were before your she-male
tranformation. During all your life, you will be permanently frustrated not
having any control of what is happening to you. Your body and other men
will have absolute control over yourself and even if you don't want all
this to happen, you will be totally helpless.You will be sad and angry
despite your body will overwhelm with lust and ecstasy. Your brain will
forbid you to mutilate or kill yourself at any time during your life making
it a permanent hell."

As she finished telling him the effects of the d**g, the second man was
ejaculating his big load inside Jack's mouth, almost convulsing in
pleasure. Jack was too much concentrated on his sucking to listen to Brenda
anymore. He felt the *******is in his legs subside but he didn't want to
leave anymore as there were such attractive young men in the room, ready to
give him their load. He felt his teeth loosen, then a few ones felt,
making his mouth look weird. he was going from man to man, making them
addicted to his mouth as much that he was addicted to their cocks. The
magic power of the d**g was working exactly as Brenda had told him. Jack
was now slaved to cocks, swallowing as much cum as he could. The men kept
coming back as they experienced pure ecstasy as they were sucked by Jack.

After about a year, a new man came to the clinic. He looked at Jack's
butt and unplug the tube that was filling him with sperm. The reaction was
immediate. Jack was furious and kicked the man with his legs. Jack was
mad trying to replug himself but the man forbid him to do so keeping the
tube end in his hand. With his other end, he grab some kind of small enema
and introduced the nozzle into Jack's ass. Jack thought he was being
replugged but the man said.

"The substance I just put in your ass will soon be activated by your
sperm. The combination will make you very submissive as well as craving to
be buttfuck by me. Your nice little ass will rapidly loosen as the d**g
will reach it's full potency and all the sperm you've got inside your gut
will flow out, thus making your crave for me to replace your supply. The
d**g will also rapidly stop cum leaking from your cock, so you'll be unable
to plug you back."

Jack felt suddenly very relax, lying on his back, he gently rub his ass
that soon began to leak some of his precious cum. It seems that his anus
was now unable to contract and he was loosing all his cum. He tried to
replug himself but the tube wasn't dripping anymore. He was now helpless
as his ass urged him to fill himself. The man came back and push his cock
inside Jack's ass. He vigorously buttfuck Jack who was crying in need of
sperm. Finally, the man spurted his load in Jack's ass. Jack was now
feeling a tremendous orgasm though his body as the man left the room. Jack
was now unable to supply himself with cum, even when he tried masturbating,
his cock wasn't responding. He began experiencing some signs of
feminisation. His breast was growing huge, his hips were enlarging, his
voice changed, his beard disappeared, his mouth and lips were sexier. He
felt his balls and cock slowly shrinking to their normal size. After 2 or
3 days, Jack was a complete she-male craving for cum in ass and mouth. The
young men came back now filling him both ways for his greatest
satisfaction.

After a few weeks of that treatment, he began feeling weird during his
sleep. He was now caressing his balls and tits and rocking his pelvis all
the time. His cock grew hard to full attention. He was asking himself
what was going on. He felt a sudden urge to stroke his cock. As he did so,
he felt wave of intense pleasure crossing all his body. When he reached
climax, he didn't see any sperm spurting out of his cock although he felt
all signs of ejaculation. His cock didn't go soft and he continue to feel
the urge to mastubate over and over, reaching climax each time, but his
cock always stay dry. After hours of ecstasy, his dick go soft and the
urge of masturbating rapidly subsided. He was exhausted and felt asleep.
He continued to experience craving for cum and sucked and was buttfucked by
lot of men, but after a few weeks, he realised he was pregnant. He could
do nothing than bear the c***d. After 37 weeks of pregnancy, his belly was
so big, he tought he will bust. Brenda came and injected him with a
substance that make him loose consciousness. He regain consciousness in
the recovery room and Brenda told him:

"You've got twins baby boys. you won't feel any cum craving for the
next 3 days in order to make you recover from the cesarian, then you'll be
back in your room, feeling the craving increasing rapidly. It will be life
as usual."

After 3 days, he was back in his room and he had regular men "visiting"
him. Less than 4 weeks after delivery, he was again caressing his balls
,tits and rocking his pelvis. He now knew that if he masturbate, he will
be pregnant again. As he didn't want to, he fought the urge to masturbate
altough it was very tough. His mind seemed to always focus on his hard
cock and his hands were caressing all his body parts making him overwhelm
with pleasure. It seems that the pleasure was doing something to his
balls. The scrotum was contracting itself as if the ejaculation will soon
occur and he was feeling as if he will have an orgasm, despite he didn't
touch his cock. He suddenly felt himself reach orgasm as he screamed in
ecstasy, feeling contractions in his cock and balls, but again his cock
stay dry. He knew he was making himself pregnant but there was no way he
can stop the cycle. His cock stayed hard very long and he felt continuous
intense orgasms . He was involontarily spurting all his hot sperm inside
himself and that was making him frustrated and sad. As his cock got soft,
he started crying knowing he was again c***dbearing.

A few days later, Brenda was back in Jack's room. She was looking at
Jack.

"I just saw the videotape of your ovulation day. So, you tried to fight
the urge of masturbating while it was time to do so! I will make sure this
will never happen again."

She took a filled syringe and empty it inside Jack's butt.

"That serum will make sure you will involontarily masturbate each time
you need to. It will be absolutely impossible not to comply to your body
needs. Your hand will automaticaly reach your cock every time it is erect.
As you deserve a little punishment for you behavior, this d**g will also
make you experiment very strong repulsion to all man's cock you will see.
As your cum craving will intensify, you will have to suck cocks and get
them in your ass even if it is disgusting to you. Even your own cock will
be a source of profond disgust for you. Anyway, you didn't seem to enjoy
playing with it. You will try to avoid looking to cocks but the d**g also
make you stare at them as often as possible. These effects are permanent
and you will now have a small sample of the effects of this new d**g. Your
cock is about to get hard and I think I will enjoy myself looking at you."

Jack was feeling he was getting hard and he felt his hand grabbed
involontarily his dick and began masturbating despite of himself. At the
same time he looked at his cock and found it was the most repulsive thing
he ever saw. He can barely stand it but he was not able to look anywhere
else. His eyes kept staring at himself masturbating furiously. He
screamed in horror to this unbearable view and could not believe he had to
live with it for the rest of his life. He soon ejaculate inside himself
and his cock got soft again.

"Well my dear, see you in a couple of weeks. In the mean time I will
install lot of mirror in this room just to make sure you have a full view
of yourself and the other men. Of course mirror installator will be naked.
Try to enjoy you snack! Remember that the d**g forbid you to mutilate or
kill yourself, so you're stuck with that marvelous dick forever."

While she left Jack was still staring at his cock, crying, almost
throwing up with disgust. The men kept comming to Jack's room and Jack had
to overcome his repulsion in order to get their sperm. His life was now a
constant fight against cock disgust in order to try to stop the cum
craving. The cum craving was so intense, it didn't matter how repulsive
their cock were.

A few months later, it was time again for delivery. This time, he got
four boys. This cycle got on and on for years making his life absolutely
miserable. When he finally reach menopausis at the age of 51, he had
delivered over 75 c***dren (all boys) and was still very disgusted by men's
cocks. Brenda came back to Jack:

"O.K. my dear, this woman's body is useless as you stopped ovulating. I
will now transform you back to your man self. You know I love giving you
injections that contains little "surprises" and this one will not make
exception to the rule." She injected Jack into his butt. "You're getting
old my poor Jack and the last few years have been tough on you, so I
decided that you deserve a break. A very special break in fact. You won't
feel any cum craving,you won't have to suck men or being buttfuck by them
from now on. While you become a man again, your balls and cock will grow
back but not as huge as they were before your transformation. Your big
balls will be able to make you ejaculate at all time and you'll enjoy
playing with your cock . You won't feel anymore repulsion to cocks, cocks
will now turn you on indeed. You'll stare at them as much as you can
humanly do and they will make you rock hard. Your sperm will now contain a
substance which can induce very strong cum craving but specifically to your
cum only. Other man's cum won't bring any satisfaction and will not
diminish the craving. This addiction is permanent and nothing can stop it.
Your sperm will also make the man that absorb it an addict of buttfucking.
He will want to have a big cock ejaculating in his ass at all time. This
effect is not specific to your cum and any man's cum will do for the
buttfuck urge he will experiment. As you will not have any urge, or cum
craving, you're probably asking yourself why I make you produce these
addicting substances and mix them with your cum. The answer is easy: I
will make you meet your boys. You know some of them are grown up now and
would be very anxious to meet you. They are very normal heterosexual boys
with a promising future. They are your exact copy but younger of course. I
will organise a little family reunion that they will remember. All your
c***dren that are over 14 will be brought here. I think there are 32 of
them at the moment.



























Scroll Very Fast





CHAPTER 1

TOMMY


Tommy was an only c***d and grew up in a small town in
the Mid-West. When he was young and was home alone, he would
often play 'dress-up' in his mother's clothing, thrilling to
the feel of the soft silky material against his body. He was
smaller than the other boys and had facial features more like
a girl's than a boy's. This was often made comment on by his
Aunt who visited his family with some regularity. "Such a
pretty girl you would make," she would comment as she hugged
the boy and offered kisses to her nephew. Tommy liked his
Aunt Beth and always tried to please her whenever she visited
and was always rewarded with hugs and kisses from the beauti-
ful woman.
One day when he was about 11, he was playing 'dress-up'
in the hours between when he got home from school and when his
parents arrived home from work. Dressed in his mother's
frilly nylon panties, a bra, slip, and a pair of her high
heels, he was admiring himself in the full length mirror in
his parent's room. He was turned sideways to the mirror and
was slowly stroking the silky material of the slip against his
sides, feeling the wonderful tingle it always provided his
body. His small cock was hard and rubbing delightfully
against the panties,when suddenly he heard footsteps in the
hallway.
"Tommy? Are you here Tommy?" It was Aunt Beth! "Oh my
God," He thought, "What if she catches me in Mom's clothes?"
Before he could formulate an answer to his own question, his
Aunt entered the room. "Oh there you are," his Aunt started,
then seeing how her nephew was attired, "My aren't we pretty
today." Tommy turned beet red and tried to hide behind the
mirror.
Aunt Beth was the younger sister of his mother and only
25 years old. Tall to his eyes, she had long flowing blonde
hair which came down to her breasts and had that 'willowy'
look Tommy had observed in the fashion magazines his mother
received in the mail. Her deep blue eyes surveyed her nephew
and she arrived at the conclusion that she had scared the boy
badly with her entry. "Tommy, don't be afraid, come over here
and give Aunt Beth a hug," she said to him.
Tommy still flushed in embarrassment and now trembling,
came out from behind the free standing mirror and approached
his Aunt. Seeing the boy shake, elicited a response of
sympathy from the woman who extended her arms and quickly drew
the boy to her, then hugged him tightly to her. "There,
there," she murmured as she held the boy to her, "It's OK
Tommy, Aunt Beth loves you and would never hurt her favorite
nephew." She stroked his small head as she held it to her
ample breasts and soon felt his trembling stop. She released
her hug and moved him out from her enough to grasp his small
chin in her hand and gently tilted his head upwards so that
she could look at his face. Tears were streaming down both
cheeks when his face came into view, so she gently wiped them
with her fingertips and then kissed the boy on the cheek and
forehead.
Holding the boy by the shoulders, she sat down on the
edge of the bed so that they were now at eye level with each
other. Then gently stroked his long-ish light brown hair back
from his face with her right hand, which finally rested on his
left shoulder at the base of his neck. His eyes were the same
deep blue as her own, but now red from crying and his pale
white cheeks trembled as he tried to speak. "Please don't
tell my Mother," he managed to get out, "She'll be mad at me
for messing with her things." Tears immediately started
flowing down the lovely boy's cheeks again, which Beth stroked
with her thumbs, then pulled him forward between her legs and
hugged him again with his head resting on her shoulder.
She rocked the ********* and gently caressed his back as
she held him then said, "I won't tell on you...I love you too
much to ever hurt you, little one." "Thank you Aunt Beth,"
came a soft reply, "I love you too." She continued to rock
and stroke him until she felt his body relax, then moved him
back out to a point between her knees, and held him by his
forearms. "Now then, why don't you tell me about it?" and
again moved her right hand up, brushing his hair from his
face.
In between occasional shudders and sniffles, Tommy
explained to his aunt that he dressed in his mother's clothing
two or three times per week and how he enjoyed the feel of
them on his body. She asked if he had ever used his mother's
makeup or dresses in addition to the underclothes and Tommy
replied "only a couple of times." "It's too hard to get that
stuff off my face," he explained and this received a smile and
a chuckle from Aunt Beth.
When he was done, she stroked his hair again and gently
talked to him. "It's OK Tommy, there is nothing wrong with
boys wanting to play dress-up...But if you are going to do it,
you should dress your own age." "But how?" Tommy inquired.
"Let me think on that for a while," she responded, then con-
tinued, "I don't know right now, but I'll work on it; for now
however, you better change before your Mom gets home and finds
you." Tommy, leaned in and hugged his Aunt then gave her a
kiss before letting go, "Thank you Aunt Beth," he whispered as
he released his hold on the woman.
His parents arrived home about 45 minutes later and true
to her word, his Aunt did not mention the incident to them.
Tommy thought she had forgotten all about it when several
months passed and nothing had happened.
It was the beginning of summer, Beth was visiting and
over dinner she made an offer to his parents. "You two work
too hard, you should take a vacation," she proposed, "I'll
tell you what, I'll take care of Tommy, and you two take a
second honeymoon!" An offer like this was too good to refuse.
Tommy's parents HAD been working very hard in the past five
years, in order to buy the house they lived in. They had
taken little time off and other than a weekend once or twice,
had never had a vacation away from their son since he had been
born. "Would you really be willing to do that s*s," Tommy's
mother asked. "Janet, you know I'm a teacher and have the
whole summer off. Tommy and I get along great, and you two
NEED a vacation." "It wouldn't be too much trouble?" his
father inquired. "No trouble at all, Tommy and I will have
lot's of fun, while you two lovebirds get some time to your-
selves," Beth replied. "Then it's a deal," his mother said,
"I hope you won't be sorry," she added. "No chance!" Beth
responded.
Things moved quickly, Tommy's parents made arrangements
to take a month off from work and booked reservations at
several hotels along their intended route. Beth would take
them to the airport, then she and Tommy would return to her
apartment for the duration of the trip. Beth would pick them
up when they returned; all was set for the trip to begin in
three weeks.
Tommy was excited about the whole idea, he had not played
dress-up since the day he had been caught by his Aunt Beth.
He had been afraid that it might be his mother who caught him
the next time and had refrained from such activities. He had
however, stolen a pair of her frilly panties and a slip, and
slept in them whenever he could do so safely. Maybe his Aunt
would let him play dress-up at her apartment, while he stayed
there.
The day finally came and after seeing his parents off at
the airport, they walked back to Aunt Beth's car in the par-
king lot. "I have a surprise for you Tommy," she said as they
walked. "For the next month, your name will be spelled 'TOMI'
and you will be my niece rather than my nephew!" "Really,"
Tommy squealed with glee, "Yes," she replied "and it will
start as soon as we get to your house." Tommy was beside
himself and stopping his Aunt, gave her the biggest hug his
little body could provide. "I though you might like it," she
said, after giving him a kiss on the forehead and stroking her
long fingers through his hair.



CHAPTER 2


FROM TOMMY TO 'TOMI'

When they arrived back at Tommy's house, he was e*****ed
into his bedroom by his Aunt who was carrying a small bag she
had retrieved from the trunk of her car. "Take off all of you
clothes," she said, much to Tommy's shock. Seeing the boy
hesitate, "You're not going to get SHY on your Aunt are you?
I've seen your little butt naked most of your life and can't
remember how many times I changed your diapers." Knowing her
statement was true, he immediately started undressing while
she removed items of clothing from the bag.
Now standing completely naked before his Aunt, Tommy
tried to hide his groin with his hands. "Come over here," she
commanded in a still gentle voice; Tommy moved to where she
was seated on the chair at the end of his bed. "Oh, put your
hands down," she said as if frustrated, "You don't have
ANYTHING to hide from me." Tommy complied and after looking
him over from head to toe, she then produced a seamstress's
tape measure and took the various measurements of his body.
"Your a little bigger than I thought, but these will still fit
you," she observed and handed him a pile of clothing from the
bed. Tommy accepted the clothing and while he looked it over,
his Aunt picked up his tennis shoes and removed the laces.
In the clothing he had been handed was: a pair of white
ankle socks, a white denim purse with a long thin strap, a
pair of white nylon panties, a pink tube top with a frilly
edge at the top seam and a pair of white shorts with no zipper
or pockets like his had. Tommy picked up the panties and
pulled them slowly up his legs, once again thrilling to the
feel of the smooth material on his body. He then put on the
tube top and shorts, then sat down to put on the ankle socks;
which he noted had pink and white lace at the top. In the
mean time, his Aunt had replaced the white laces in his shoes
with pink ones and seeing him looking her way offered an
explanation. "I didn't know what size shoes you wore, so
these will do until we can get you some girl's shoes."
Aunt Beth then had Tommy sit in the chair and got some
cosmetics from her bag. Tilting his face up to her, she held
it in her palm and studied him for a couple of minutes. "You
have such lovely skin and bone structure," she offered, "I
just wish I'd looked that good at your age," as if talking to
herself. She then took a pair of tweezers and plucked a few
hairs from his eyebrows and applied some blusher to his
cheeks. A light pink lipstick and gloss were then put on his
lips and after blotting, applied again. Aunt Beth then took
a comb and parted his hair down the middle and then drew it
into two pony tails, one on either side of his head, which
were secured with pink ribbons to match his outfit. "All
done, Tomi, let's go into your parent's room, where you can
see yourself in the mirror."
Aunt Beth lead him by the hand into the next room and
stood behind him with her hands on his bare shoulders as he
gazed at the mirror. Looking back at him was one of the
prettiest young girls he had ever seen, with pale white skin,
light brown hair, big blue eyes, and a cute little play
outfit. Tommy was thrilled at the results and turned to his
Aunt and hugged her for all he was worth, then planted a half
a dozen kisses all over her face as he thanked her. "Let's go
home then Tomi," she said, "We'll stop and get you some more
clothes along the way." Smiling all the while, he skipped to
the car as his Aunt locked up the house.

On the other side of town, his Aunt stopped at a K-Mart
store, and Tommy was taken inside, where he was allowed to try
on a number of dresses and outfits. He was having a ball and
loved modeling the clothing for his beautiful smiling Aunt and
no one suspected that he was a boy. When they left, his arms
were full of packages including: 3 dresses, 3 sun-suits, an
assortment of tops and blouses, 3 more pair of shorts, a dozen
pair of panties, 4 training bras, a couple of slips, a set of
petticoats and 3 pair of shoes. Tommy didn't see the amount
of the final bill, but knew all of this stuff must have cost
his Aunt a FORTUNE. He therefore, thanked, hugged and kissed
her at every possible opportunity. She just smiled and told
him he was welcome.
For the next couple of hours they drove and Tommy got
very tired. All the excitement at the store had drained him
and soon he fell asleep on the front seat of the car. He
awoke with his head on his Aunt's lap, looking towards her
feet. Her skirt had ridden up from his head moving about on
her lap, and Tommy's face was resting on a stocking covered
but otherwise bare thigh. He moved his cheek against the
sheer material and sighed at the thrilling feel it gave him.
"Awake ***********?" he heard, and a hand gently caressed his
cheek and rolled his head back and up. He flipped onto his
back and smiled up at his pretty Aunt, who continued to drive
as she smiled down at him and caressed his left shoulder.
His Aunt told him they would be stopping in a few minutes
to get some dinner. They were only 30 minutes from home but
she was tired and did not feel like cooking when she got home.
Tommy sat upright, but stayed in the center of the seat,
pressed up against his Aunt Beth, who continued to stroke his
shoulders as she drove. True to her word, she shortly pulled
into a 'Denney's' restaurant and they went inside to eat. The
two sat at their table and ate a hardy meal as they talked
about what she had planned for their upcoming month together.
To everyone in the restaurant they were just a lovely woman
treating her pretty niece to a dinner.
At one point Tommy had to go to the bathroom and when he
arose, his Aunt pulled him to her before he left the table and
whispered in his ear, "Don't forget to use the GIRL's room,
NOT the boy's." Tommy blushed, because he had become so
comfortable with the way he was dressed, he had forgotten he
was dressed as a girl. Had she not reminded him, he probably
WOULD have gone into the wrong restroom. He gave his Aunt a
kiss for saving him, and proceeded to the restroom without in-
cident. Inside, he almost stood before the toilet to pee,
when he realized that someone was in the next stall, and
decided he better sit like girl's do, so they wouldn't think
anything wrong.
Back in the car, they proceeded to the apartment building
and with arms loaded by packages went up the elevator to her
floor. As the elevator door opened, they were greeted by two
young girls about Tommy's age. "Hi, Miss Henderson," the
girls beamed. "Hi, girls...Oh, I'd like you to meet my niece
Tomi, who will be staying with me for the next month while her
parents are on vacation. Tomi, this is Jenny and this is
Suzie, two of my students." "Hi girls," said Tommy and gave
them his best smile. "Hi Tomi," they responded also smiling,
"We have to run, Miss Henderson or we'll be late for the mov-
ie, but we'll stop by tomorrow, if that's OK," said Jenny.
"That'll be fine, Jenny, I think Tomi is a little tired from
the trip anyway, Bye, Have Fun!" Almost as quick as his eyes
could follow, they jumped into the elevator and were gone.
"Cute girls," said his Aunt, "You'll probably be playing with
them a lot."
Inside the apartment, Tommy was shown to the guest room,
which was to be his for the next month. His aunt helped him
put his new clothes away in the closet and dresser, then
suggested that it was late and he would probably want to take
a bath before going to bed. Before he could answer, she
turned and went into the bathroom and started the bath water
running into the tub.
When, she returned, he was standing nude in the bedroom,
trying to find his robe in the dresser. "Where's my robe?" he
said "Oh, guess I forgot to buy you one," she replied somewhat
exasperated. "We'll get you one tomorrow as well as anything
else I forgot," then giving him a pat on the ass, "In to the
bath with you." With a squeal and a giggle, he ran for the
bathroom and dove into the warm foamy bathtub. He laid back
in the water and soaked for a while, relaxing and enjoying the
feel of the bath.
After about 10 minutes, his Aunt came into the bathroom,
wearing a long flowing silk robe. When she knelt beside the
tub, Tommy could see her bare legs and thighs almost halfway
up. She then picked up a washcloth and soaped it, and started
washing the makeup from his face. After rinsing his face, she
started working on the rest of his body and as she worked, her
robe fell open and his eyes nearly bugged out of his head when
he saw her large breasts bobbing about as she moved. He could
also see her public hair which was darker than the hair on her
head, but not very thick, so her pussy lips were also visible.
Seeing where the boy was looking, his Aunt said, "Oh MY!,
and immediately closed her robe. Then thinking for a couple
of seconds released her robe and said, "Well it was bound to
happen sooner or later anyway...Now it's over with." "Did you
like what you saw?" Aunt Beth asked. Tommy stammered and
stuttered since the only woman he had ever seen nude was his
mother and only quick glimpses of her. "Ya...Yes," he finally
managed to say, "Ver...Very much." "Good," said his Aunt,
"But it is generally considered good manners for a man to
complement a woman on her breasts." "The...They are VERY
nice," he replied, "May...May I touch them?" "Well now, THAT,
was certainly a GIANT leap into manhood; Certainly dear, you
may touch them if you want."
Aunt Beth stopped washing him for a minute and removed
her robe, hanging it on the door the returned and kneeled
beside the tub once more. With his hand shaking, Tommy
reached out and gently stroked his Aunt's left breast, then
turning his body to face her lifted her right breast in his
left and hand feeling the weight. His small hand probed and
stroked the soft flesh and he noticed that her nipples in-
creased in size as he caressed the lovely woman. She contin-
ued washing him, but he noticed that her breathing was heavier
and she gulped air like she was having trouble breathing.
"Are you OK Aunt Beth, I'm not hurting you am I?" She pulled
his face against her breasts and stroking his head replied,
"No dear boy, you're not hurting me, it's just...well, no
one's touched them for quite a while."
Tommy rubbed his face against her soft chest as she held
him, then when his mouth was within reach, sucked her nipple
into his mouth and nursed on it like he used to do on his
mother's. Beth moved into the tub with the boy and soon had
him laying across her lap with his head cradled in her arm and
his mouth still firmly attached to her nipple. He continued
to suckle and with his hand stroked the breast above the
nipple and his Aunt just laid back and let his little mouth
work on her while she gently stroked his entire body. After
a while, she transferred him to her other breast and he was
now laying full length on top of her with his body between her
legs. She held him as he sucked and nibbled on her nipple and
moaned with pleasure at the contact.
After about ten minutes, Beth's body raised out of the
water, and went rigid for a couple of seconds then relaxed
back down into the warm liquid. "Are you OK, Aunt Beth?"
"Yes, Yes, dear one, Aunt Beth is very happy," she sighed and
continued to stroke the small body laying on top of her. She
could feel his hard little cock pressing against her belly,
and reached down and gently stroked it until his body shook
with an orgasm, the held him to her as they both relaxed.
After a while, she sat up and then got out of the bathtub and
helped Tommy dry and dried herself before leading him into his
bedroom, and tucking him nude into the big bed. She stroked
his forehead and kissed him on the cheek then the mouth as she
said good night. "Good Night, Aunt Beth, I love you," Tommy
said softly and closed his eyes to sleep.
During the night, Tommy awoke and went to the bathroom,
in the hallway, he heard a moan and a cry come from his Aunt's
bedroom. Thinking she was hurt, he stuck his head through the
doorway and looked inside. Aunt Beth was laying naked on the
bed, with one hand holding her breast while the other was
feverishly rubbing between he widely spread legs. She was
covered with sweat and as he watched she arched her back
raising her body up from the bed and gave another deep moan,
then collapsed back onto the bed and rested. Tommy wasn't
sure what had happened, but she didn't look hurt, so he
returned to bed.
The next morning he was awakened by his Aunt's fingers
stroking his cheek and when she saw his eyes meet her's, she
kissed him and said, "Good Morning, Tomi; how do you feel."
"OK, Aunt Beth, are you OK?" he replied. "What do you mean?"
she said, looking at his now apparently concerned face. "Oh,
I had to go to the bathroom last night, and heard sounds from
your bedroom,...Like you were hurt." "I'm fine, Tomi, but I
guess I'm going to have to explain something to you that
apparently your parents haven't yet...about sex."
His Aunt then got up from the bed and removed her robe.
Standing beside the bed and before her wide eyed nephew, she
then proceeded to explain about the differences between men
and women's bodies. She ended the lesson by opening her legs
and parting the lips of her vagina, showed him the parts of
her womanhood and explained how sensitive various parts were,
especially her clitoris. She then allowed the boy to feel her
breasts again, and explore her vaginal area with his small
hands until she was satisfied that he understood about women's
bodies and how they differed from his own. She then gathered
his naked body to hers and sitting him on her lap, gave him
many hugs and kisses as she explained her plan for the day.
When she was done, she took him to the kitchen, where they
both ate breakfast au naturel, then returned to his bedroom to
get him dressed for the day.
Tommy was given a pair of white cotton girl's panties
with high cut legs, a pair of white ankle socks and a pair of
white girl's style 'Keds' were placed on his feet. His aunt
the put a half-slip on him and had him step into a pretty baby
blue sundress, which she then pulled up and after placing the
1" shoulder straps over his shoulders, buttoned the single "H"
connecting strap, which ran horizontal just below his shoulder
blades. Tomi was then seated and his Aunt showed him how to
do his own hair into the same twin pony tail style he had worn
the day before. This time however, the ribbons securing the
pony tails were tied with blue ribbon to match his dress. His
Aunt then applied light makeup to his face and he was again
lead to a mirror to see the results.
For a minute or two, Tommy couldn't believe that the
pretty girl looking back at him from the mirror was himself.
He turned this way and that, looking at how the dress was cut
showing almost all of his back clear down to the waist, except
for the shoulder and "H" straps. In front, his chest was
bare, to just above his breasts and the dress was cut to flare
at the waist outward to where it ended about 6" above his
knees. "Hi 'TOMI'," he said to the smiling girl in the
mirror, then turned and hugged his Aunt Beth's still naked
body and kissed her as thanks.
Aunt Beth got dressed quickly and they proceeded down the
elevator and out into the parking lot to her car. As they
were getting in, Jenny and Suzie approached and invited Tomi
to go swimming with them that afternoon in the complex's pool.
Aunt Beth and Tomi agreed and they would stop by around two to
pick Tomi up and show her the way to the pool. "I guess we'd
better get you a swim suit too," observed his Aunt as she
pulled the car into traffic.
The rest of the morning was spent at the mall, going from
store to store, with Tomi trying on outfits at every one and
ended with them returning to the apartment, again loaded down
with boxes and bags of clothing. After lunch Aunt Beth told
Tomi to try on the swimming suit to make sure it 'hid his
little problem'. It was a black and white bikini with a ban-
deau top. The bottom was black knit Lycra spandex with a
white waist band. When Tommy was pulling the bottom up his
legs, his Aunt gently reached out and pushed his balls back up
into the internal tubes of his groin, then folded his penis
back between his legs. The tight suit held everything in
place and to all appearances he now had the normal crotch of
a girl. "That will do nicely, Tomi, but make sure you never
undress in front of the girls or they will know you're a boy;
you could get into a lot of trouble if that happened."
The girls arrived in a little while still dressed and
carrying their bathing suits. Jenny explained their problem,
"Miss Henderson, Mom is having a card party and doesn't want
us in the apartment; could we change here before going down to
the pool?" "Sure girls, Tomi why don't you show them to your
room, so they can change," Beth replied. Tommy lead the way
and ushered them into his room, as he was turning to leave,
Suzie said, "Don't leave, Tomi, we can talk while we're chan-
ging."
Tommy didn't know what to do, here he was in his bedroom
with two pretty girls who were about to undress in front of
him and his Aunt was just down the hall. Before he could
mentally decide, he looked over towards Suzie and found she
was already standing nude before him, with a broad smile on
her face. Jenny had removed her top and was in the process of
taking off her panties and shorts in a single movement, with
her back to him and bent forward so he could see her firm lit-
tle ass and her pussy between her legs as she removed the
garments.
The girls talked as they undressed and then put on their
bathing suits and told him that Jenny was 12 and Suzie 11
years old. They were sisters and lived three doors down the
hall on the left with their mother who was divorced. Jenny
had been in Miss Henderson's class the previous year and Suzie
would be this year. They both liked the teacher and thought
she was very beautiful.
Suzie was a blue eyed little blonde haired girl, with a
straight-as-an-arrow body. Her breasts were just little bumps
which looked more like a boy's except for the nipples which
were larger and stood out just a little. Her hair was medium
length, extending down to the tops of her shoulders and
generally straight, except for the little flip at the ends.
Her pussy was completely hairless, and Tommy's little dick was
straining just at the sight of it.
Jenny was a little bigger than Tommy, probably about an
inch taller and her body was starting to show signs of
development into a woman. Her breasts were forming and stood
out about an inch from her chest, the nipples were twice as
large as Suzie's and her pussy had a sparse covering of dark
brown hair. Jenny's eyes were green and her skin milk white
in the areas covered by her tank type swim suit. Her hair was
very long, reaching almost to her waist as it cascaded down
over her back.
The girls were now attired and taking Tommy by the hand,
lead him back through the apartment and down to the pool.
They played, and swam, and laid in the sun and had a great
time, all afternoon. Tommy only had one scare all afternoon,
they were playing 'Tag' in the pool. Suzie had grabbed the
waist band of his suit bottom, and as he tried to escape, they
were pulled halfway down his ass, exposing his tender white
cheeks to the boys at the pool who hooted and hollered their
approval.
Fortunately, they did not come down far enough for his
little pecker to be seen, and he quickly pulled them back up
as he turned beet red in response to the boy's cat calls.
Suzie apologized for having pulled them down gave him a hug to
ease his embarrassment. Tommy loved the feel of her body
pressing against his bare flesh and stroked her back as they
stood side-by-side following the hug, against the wall of the
pool. "I'm so sorry," Suzie said with tears in her eyes,
"It's OK," replied Tomi, "they didn't get to see much anyway."
and patted the girl on the hip.
The next month Tommy would remember as one of the best
and most exciting times of his life. He, Jenny and Suzie
became almost inseparable, spending all of their time to-
gether, playing or going to movies, or going to the mall. He
got to see the girls naked many times, but they never saw
anything below his waist. One of the boys, named Bobby, even
had a crush on Tomi and attempted to put his hands on her
every time he was close enough to do so. They had danced at
a party at the apartment building one evening, but Tomi never
let him get beyond kissing her and stroking whatever skin was
left bare by her clothing. Tomi, knew that Bobby had a per-
petual hard-on, but was not about to take any chances.
Tommy and his Aunt took baths together every night, and
he soon learned how to make her climax with his hands and
later his mouth. She always stroked his little cock and balls
until he came, but would never let him enter her vagina with
his cock. She explained to him that this would be called
i****t and was a crime as well as one of the worst sins a
person could commit.
The night before his parents were to return, Tommy cried,
he didn't want to go back to being a boy and having to wear
those terrible rough boy's clothes. Aunt Beth tried to
comfort him but every time she released him, he would start
crying again and his body would tremble and shudder. His Aunt
held him most of the night and they slept together in her bed.
In the morning, she told him she would try to arrange the same
type of vacation for next year, but that was all she could do.
Tommy returned home, happy with the vacation, but sad at
returning to being a boy.

CHAPTER 3


DEPRESSION AND BEYOND

For the next year, Tommy was continually depressed and
even though he still got "A's" and "B's" in school, his
parents could not understand what was wrong. The only times
he got excited was when he was told his Aunt Beth was going to
visit, then returned to his previous state when she left.
Tommy couldn't tell his parents that he hated being a boy, nor
about the wonderful vacation he had the summer before. His
mother, noted that her sister seemed to be a positive influ-
ence on his mental state and approached Beth with her con-
cerns. They discussed Tommy at length, and Beth explained
that as an only c***d and being very small for a boy his age,
that he didn't get along with the other boys who constantly
picked on him. He was therefore lonely and was at that stage
of life where his body was feeling the effects of puberty but
would probably "grow out of it."
"Beth, I am very concerned about Tommy, and I am going to
ask a very BIG favor of you and will perfectly understand if
you say no. Tommy seems to perk-up around you and gets back
to a normal mental state. Is there any chance, Tommy could
spend the summer with you....We will pay all expenses, I
couldn't ask you to support our son, but we must do something,
or I'm afraid we'll have to start taking him to a psycholo-
gist." Both women were crying, and Beth took her older
sister's face in her hands and replied as she stroked the
tears from her face. "Janet, I love your son almost as much
as you do. It's no imposition on me to try and help him. If
it's what YOU want, I'll pick him up as soon as school's out
and keep him as long as it takes to bring him around;....I
only hope I can help."
As soon as Tommy was informed of the decision by his
mother, he almost immediately snapped out of the continual
depression and started acting his normal self. His mother
knew she had made the right choice from his reaction and felt
confident that her sister could help her son.
When the day finally arrived for his Aunt to pick him up,
Tommy was excited about what lay ahead during the summer. By
the time Beth finally got there he was shaking from just the
thought of what was to come and his cock had been hard all
day. When Beth arrived she hugged the boy and he smelled her
sweet perfume, then after greeting his parents and spending an
hour getting caught up on family gossip, they loaded his
suitcases into the trunk and headed back to her apartment.
Along the way, Beth pulled into a gas station and after
checking the women's restroom to make sure it was empty, ush-
ered her trembling nephew inside. Locking the door, she told
him to strip, and produced an outfit similar to the one he had
worn for the trip the previous summer. When he was naked, she
measured him, and found that other than for the fact that he
had grown an inch, now standing 5'2" he could still wear most
of the clothes she had purchased the previous year, the skirts
would just be a little shorter. Beth took note, that other
portions of his body had also grown, his erect cock was now
almost 6" long, but still only about an inch in diameter and
was surrounded by a light covering of light brown hair. Other
than his now larger cock, he still looked more like a girl
than a boy, his skin being smooth and almost hairless. Taking
hold of his stiff member, she looked Tommy in the eye and said
"We've got to get rid of this or it will bulge in your
shorts." She then started gently stroking him, with him
standing before her until she felt the little jerking convul-
sions in his cock which indicated that a climax was on it's
way. Without saying a word she leaned forward and sucked him
full length into her mouth and proceeded to give the boy his
first ever blowjob.
Tommy couldn't believe that his beautiful Aunt was
sucking on his cock, and loved the feel of her tongue as it
swirled around his cock head inside her mouth. His entire
body shook as he came, and he almost fell with the release but
his aunt caught him and then held him in her arms until his
breathing returned to normal. He had come in Aunt Beth's
mouth and rather than her being mad as he expected, she just
smiled and licked her lips, then kissed him on the cheek and
told him to get dressed. After fixing his hair and applying
a light coat of makeup, they left the gas station and returned
to her apartment.
On arriving at the apartment, Aunt Beth took him to his
room and had him strip off his clothing again. She then sat
down on the bed and had him stand before her as she slowly
inspected every part of his body. "We have a problem, Tomi,"
she said, then continued, "you are growing hair on your legs;
girls don't allow that to happen so we'll have to remove it."
Tommy just said, "OK Aunt Beth, whatever you say." Without
further comment, she led him to the bathroom, then covered his
entire body below the neck with 'Nair' and told him to stand
still while the lotion worked it's 'Magic' on him. She
checked small patches on him periodically, then decided it was
time to remove the lotion. She scrubbed him with a sponge and
as she showered him with a hand held shower attachment and
Tommy saw that every place the sponge had been, was now hair-
less and smooth. This included his crotch, which now looked
as it had when he was younger, except that his cock and balls
looked bigger.
When she was done, Aunt Beth turned off the shower and
ran a full bath into the tub, adding a bubble bath to the wa-
ter. Tommy was then told to soak in the tub for a while and
his Aunt left the room. When she returned she was unclothed
and Tommy again marveled at her big breasts and wonderful
female body. She got into the tub with him and gently washed
his hair as well as every other part of his body. All this
contact had brought his young cock back to life and she
giggled when she washed him there.
After the bath, she dried him off then dusted his body
with a sweet smelling powder. This made his skin tingle and
made it feel even smoother than it had before. After drying
herself she lead him back to the bedroom and cradled him in
her lap as he suckled her nipples. She then gently stroked
his body and talked to him about what a sweet boy he was.
That night they slept together and Tommy was treated to
another mind-blowing climax when his Aunt sucked him off. He
then licked and sucked on her tasty pussy until she finally
told him to stop, so they could get some sleep.
The next month was a repeat of the previous summer.
Jenny and Suzie were still there, and other than the fact that
Jenny now sported large breasts for her age and, Suzie was
showing signs of developing to about an "A" cup, everything
went as before. His Aunt added two foam pads to his bras and
swim suits so that he also appeared to be growing small
breasts, which made Tomi very happy.
Aunt Beth was seeing a man named Frank about three
evenings per week, but she never brought him to the apartment
and he never saw her boy/girl nephew. Tommy could tell from
the glow about his Aunt when she came home that she and Frank
were fucking on these nights which was confirmed in his mind
by the fact that she would always immediately take a bath be-
fore holding or touching him after one of her dates.
Both Jenny and Suzie now had boyfriends and they along
with Bobby hung around the girls like vultures. As he had the
previous summer, Bobby was constantly touching Tomi, which
she/he both enjoyed and hated. She/he disliked it only in
that she had to be on constant guard that Bobby's hands always
stayed above the waist, due to what might happen if he dis-
covered him to be a boy. At one of the parties, the girls
threw, Tomi ended up kissing Bobby for the better part of an
hour, to keep him occupied so that he didn't try anything
more.
By late July, Tomi was giving the boy hand-jobs to keep
him satisfied and the first week of August gave her first
blowjob. Bobby was satisfied with this arrangement as long as
she continued to give him relief, honoring her statement that
she wanted to remain a virgin until she got married. Tomi
didn't mind giving the boy head until he started getting
insistent, wanting her to do it two or three times per day.
At that point, she told him to 'Go fuck himself' and refused
to see him or be anywhere he was at. She had actually liked
the taste of his cock in her mouth and his cum was salty but
good. It was just that he got so pushy about the whole thing.
Ever since his Aunt had started dating Frank, she no
longer took baths with him, never allowed him to sleep in her
bed, never stroked his cock to climax, would not allow him to
even touch her pussy, and only occasionally would allow him to
feel or suck her breasts. Tommy a healthy ***********, had an
almost constant hard-on and was having to relieve himself two
or three times per day to keep the bulges out of his clothing.
He was sitting nude in his room one afternoon performing this
task, when like a cannon shot, Suzie charged through the door.
"Let's go swimming!" she squealed then seeing Tommy's hard
cock between his legs, stopped dead in her tracks. Her eyes
got big and her jaw dropped open, but she was unable to speak.
She reached behind her and closed the door, then managed to
choke out the words, "You're a BOY."
Tommy was so startled he had stopped in mid-stroke on his
hard cock, and had made no attempt to cover himself. Then
during the pause following her statement, finally managed to
speak. "Suzie, come over here," he said softly and released
his grip on his still raging cock.
The girl moved stiffly as if in a trance, but ended
kneeling before his seated body. Suzie listened while he ex-
plained that, yes, he was a boy, but he liked the feel of
girl's clothing better and how he liked to be around girls
more than boys. That his Aunt let him dress as a girl when he
visited, but that he could not do it at home for fear of
discovery. Suzie nodded her head several times during his
explanation and noted that by the end, her friend was trem-
bling and shaking throughout his entire body. She put her
hand on his knee and leaned forward and gave him a kiss on his
lips and whispered, "It's OK Tomi, I won't tell anyone about
you."
With tears streaming down his cheeks, he gathered the
smaller girl to him and hugged her for all he was worth. They
remained in this cinch for quite some time, as she stroked his
body and kissed him on the mouth, neck and shoulders; then
rubbed her head against his chest. Suzie then took his cock
in her hand and gently fondled it and probed his balls as if
to convince herself that they were real, then released him and
stood between his outstretched legs. In a flash, Suzie was
standing nude in the same spot where before she was wearing
her two piece swim suit. Her budding breasts were topped by
two rose colored nipples which were erect and standing out
proudly. Her breathing was rapid and she then took Tommy's
hand and placed it on her belly, then moved it downward to
her young cunt.
Tommy's fingers glided over her still almost hairless
pussy lips and became wet from the juice oozing from between
them. He opened his fingers and allowed the lips to pass
between them on either side of his middle finger, which he
gently inserted into her hole. Suzie reached out with her
hands and placed them on his shoulders to steady herself as he
slowly stroked his finger in and out of her, and her body
trembled from the pleasure he was providing to it.
After about 5 minutes of this and when her fluids were
trickling down the insides of her thighs, she backed up a step
and moving his legs together moved back forward and sat on his
thighs, with her legs around them to the sides. His hard cock
was now pressed up against her smooth belly and after placing
his hands on her breasts, she wrapped her arms around his neck
and gave him a deep kiss into which it felt she put all of her
energy and strength. His hands massaged her tender breasts
and stroked her back, shoulders and ass. Suzie then raised
herself up and using her left hand guided his cock to the
opening of her tight little pussy. Suzie then lowered herself
onto the stiff meat, until she sat with her pussy lips firmly
against his pubic area.
They sat like that for several minutes just enjoying the
feel of each others warm bodies pressed together and his hard
cock encased in her tight cunt. Tommy then lifted Suzie's ass
as if to signal and she soon was thrusting up and down on his
cock like she was riding a horse. It didn't take the excited
girl long before her body shook with an orgasm, and Tommy held
her as the waves passed through her, then she started moving
again. After another 10 minutes, the young boy could hold
back no longer and came hard into her cunt which triggered her
again. They collapsed interlocked back onto the chair and
held each other for what seemed a long, long time.
When they recovered they got up and walked holding each
other, then sat on the bed. Suzie promised that his secret
was safe, but only on the condition that his cock belonged to
her and made it clear that she intended to use it often. This
was fine with Tommy and after a leisurely kiss, they both
dressed and went to the kitchen for a snack. For some reason,
they were both very hungry.
For the balance of his stay, this young sex pot would
manage to get them alone at least three times per day, some-
times more, and either suck him, fuck him or if her pussy was
feeling tender, have him fuck her ass. The latter being some-
thing Tommy really enjoyed, since her ass was even tighter
than her VERY tight pussy.
On the Sunday of his last week with her, Aunt Beth broke
devastating news to Tommy. Frank had ask her to marry him,
and they would be married that winter. This was the last time
he would ever be able to dress as Tomi and visit her. Tommy
broke down crying and his Aunt gathered him to her and cuddled
him. She then further explained why his parents had let him
stay the summer; that the alternative was seeing a psycholo-
gist. He must return to being a boy; but even more important,
he must act normal when he did so. If he returned to the
depression, his parents would send him to a doctor and
eventually would find out about his cross-dressing. This
would get them both in serious trouble and he would probably
never be allowed to see his Aunt Beth again.
This psychology stuff was a real shocker to Tommy, he had
no idea that his parents were considering any thing like that.
He promised his Aunt, that no matter what, he would make sure
that his parents thought he was a normal happy k**.
The night before he was to return home, his Aunt again
had a date with Frank. Suzie and Jenny came to the apartment
and as soon as they found out his Aunt was gone and would not
return until late, they both undressed right there in the
living room. "I told Jenny about you this morning, Suzie ex-
plained, and she wants you to fuck her too." Looking at the
two girls side by side, Jenny's tits were almost twice as
large as Suzie's and before he could make any further compari-
son, both leapt on top of him. Suzie had her pussy pinning
his head to the carpet as Jenny was sucking his cock. He lost
track of who was where when, but he knew he had eaten both
girls and fucked each in all of their holes before they helped
his exhausted body into bed. Both girls kissed both his mouth
and cock before leaving him to go to sleep. He never saw them
again.


CHAPTER 4


HOME AGAIN


Tommy returned home and although it took considerable
acting on his part at times, managed to convince his parents
that he was again a normal boy. They thanked Beth for saving
their son and were delighted at the news of her upcoming mar-
riage.
For the next couple of years, the only cross-dressing
Tommy could manage was wearing girl's panties under his normal
clothing at school. His mother however, complained that he
must be wearing underwear for 3 or 4 days because there was
not enough of it in the laundry. He therefore made sure that
whether he wore it or not, at least 7 pair of underpants made
it into the weekly wash.
Tommy had joined the Audio/Visual Club at school since
extra-curricular activities were pushed by school officials
and he did not want to play on the sports teams. One side
benefit of this was that he worked on the stage crew in either
sound or lighting for the theater productions the school drama
club put on.
He was given a full set of keys for the stage and theater
area since the sound and lighting wiring ran all throughout
the area. To his delight one of the keys opened the costume
storage rooms and makeup rooms of the school. Unknown to him,
several of the girls on the costume committee had seen him in
the costume rooms fingering the many dresses and lingerie
located there. They never said anything to him, but told each
other and giggled at the prospect of what this might mean.
In High School, Tommy had not had much luck getting dates
with girls. He still wore his hair longer than most of the
boys and was physically smaller (only 5'3", 100 lbs.) than
most also. Whenever he would ask one of the girls out, they
would say with an incredulous look, "Go out in public with a
sissy like you? I'd rather die." But during his Junior year
all of that changed.
Stephanie, easily the cutest girl in his class (and a
member of the costume committee), called him one Saturday
afternoon inviting him to a party that evening at her house.
Her parents were away for the weekend and it would be fun. Of
course he accepted.
Tommy arrived around 7 p.m., surprised to find himself
the first to arrive. Stephanie was ravishing in a black mini-
dress and black suede baby-doll sandals with a four inch heel.
The preliminaries were brief, but unnerving.
"Take of those silly boy's clothes," she ordered.
"There's no use pretending with me." He stammered something
about the other k**s, but she had already started to undo his
jeans, slipping them down his trembling thighs. "My, my," she
said when she stripped off his briefs, "Such marvelous curves,
too pretty to hide." She was looking with envy at his body.
Tommy blushed and his cock stiffened under all the attention,
and she used it as a handle, leading him up the carpeted
stairs. "Tonight," she whispered, "our little sissy is coming
out."
In her bedroom, soft and scented and piled deep with
plush and lace, Stephanie left him standing naked before the
long mirror to go to the dresser. In a moment, she returned
with a pair of silky panties. "You were made to be dressed
like a doll," she purred. "Ken in Barbie's prettiest pant-
ies." Tommy gasped as she slipped the pink panties past his
thighs, and tucked away his swollen genitals. Before he had
a chance to protest, Stephanie had wrestled him into a pink
waist-cinch trimmed with ribbons. He could hardly breathe.
The next thing he knew, she was hooking him into a pink nylon
foam padded bra with push-up design. After stuffing the cups
with scads of her scented panties, she stepped back and
laughed. "A pretty padded bra is a sissy's best friend. And
we won't tell a soul what's in the cups." He could only hope
not, because next she found a pair of sheer pink tap pants
with garters sewn into the lacy spandex waist. "I wish they
looked half as sweet on me." She was the most beautiful girl
he had ever seen and started to protest, but she shushed him.
"here," she said, pushing him back on the bed, "Let me put
your stockings on." They were sexy shiny stockings of pink
nylon and, as she hooked them to his garters, he marveled at
his reflection in the mirror.
"You must be the cutest sissy in the world," she bragged
and he was beginning to agree. But before he could speak, she
had taken a pair of pink leather high heel pumps from her
closet and, pushing him back on the bed once again, slipped
them on his feet. He stood before the mirror seeing his last
vestige of manhood disappear. But he really didn't care. He
was remembering how he felt way back during those summers at
his Aunt Beth's and enjoyed the feel of the garments on his
body. He wanted Stephanie to tell him again how cute he
looked, and began to move shamelessly. Stephanie squealed
with delight and rushed to the closet taking down the most
beautiful pink lace dress. "How do you like it?" It was
stunning...lacy soft puffed sleeves with a gathered crepe
bodice and three tiers of lace for the generous skirt sashed
at the waist. In Stephanie's dress, he felt just like a
princess.
Stephanie sat him down at her dressing table and started
doing his makeup, applying a liquid foundation to his face,
she followed this with eyeshadow, liner and mascara to his
already almond-shaped eyes. She then rouged his cheeks and
painted his lips a very hot pink. His jewelry consisted of
pearl earrings, (She applied one to his already pierced ear,
then pierced the other herself). A strand of pearls around
his neck, a little teasing of his long hair for half an hour,
followed by a spray net and his transformation was complete.
"Beautiful," she said patting his shoulder. "C'mon, you can
mix us a drink downstairs and we can waste time with giggles
and girl-talk."
Tommy had taken two sips from his screwdriver when the
doorbell rang. "Answer it," Stephanie ordered. Tommy was
petrified but, under his skirt it didn't show. "Dressed like
this?" he questioned. "Why not?" she wanted to know. "If
anyone asks, you're my cousin from out of town." He melted in
the warmth of her smile. Cautiously, he approached the front
door, feeling dreadfully exposed beneath his lacy skirt.
When he finally opened the door, in came the entire
costume committee, five girls all his classmates (Debbie,
Heather, Denise, Kim and Carol) they were all crowded into the
foyer. "Hi sissy," called Heather, laughing. "What a pretty
pink dress, Sissy," said Carol. They were all taking turns
squeezing his corseted waist and kissing his painted lips.
For the first time in his life, other than when with Suzie and
Jenny, he felt like he really belonged.
Of course the party turned out to be a pajama party that
Stephanie had invited him to, and since he had left his
pajamas at home, the girls marched him right back up to
Stephanie's bedroom to select for him the prettiest night
clothes they could find. It was Debbie a beautiful little
blonde who finally picked out a naughty little satin and lace
pinafore in baby blue with little matching ruffled back
panties that tied on the side.
The night ended as the sun came up on a new day, after
'Tomi' had eaten all six girls and he thought fucked them all
also (at least once), as he fell off to sleep, surrounded by
beautiful female bodies sprawled in all directions. He knew
that his pretty new friends would never be far from his side
and that he would never want to be a man again.



CHAPTER 5


A NEW MISTRESS


The following day, Tomi was kept nude all day as the
girls explored the extent of their control over him. He
served as a nude waiter for both their breakfast and lunch and
whenever he was within one of them's reach, they fondled his
cock and balls almost casually. By 1:00 in the afternoon,
Stephanie realized that Tomi had seemed depressed all day and
thought she knew the reason why. The other girls had gone to
the store and they were alone in the house, so now was a good
time to find out if she was right.
"Tomi, come over here," she called, and as always, the
boy complied without comment. "Tomi, you don't seem happy
like you were last night," she offered. Tomi was standing
nude before this beautiful red head with his head down and
tears welled to the corners of his eyes, but he said nothing.
"Tell me what the problem is, Tomi," Stephanie said as softly
as possible yet still somewhat stern.
In almost a whisper, Tommy replied, "I...I like being
with you girls, but, I don't like being undressed all the
time." The tears started flowing down his cheeks and Stepha-
nie stood up and hugged the smaller boy to her. "You want to
wear MY clothes, don't you Tomi," she whispered in his ear, as
she gently stroked his back and sides. "Please, yes," was all
the boy was able to choke out. "Oh, my poor sweet sissy, I
should have known," Stephanie cooed to him.
Stephanie was wearing a peasant type blouse and Tomi's
head pressed against her breasts had worked the top downward.
His mouth rested just above her nipples and the smell of her
clean flesh and light perfume along with her tender stroking
had him very excited.
Tommy kissed her between the breasts and Stephanie
pressed herself harder against his mouth. She was hugging his
trembling body to her as hard as she could and it was all he
could manage to get his hands up to the frilly collar of her
blouse and pull it down enough to free her breasts. When they
were clear, he dove on her right nipple with everything he
had, sucking and lightly biting it, in between licks and
flicks with his tongue. Stephanie's pale white skin had
little freckles s**ttered across her breasts her nipples were
very dark and stood out like little cones under the ministra-
tions of his eager mouth. Stephanie could not believe how
this boy's talented mouth was working over her tits and knew
that even though he had few dates at school, SOMEONE had
taught him how to make a woman happy.
Stephanie, sat down in the chair behind her and pulled
him onto her lap, cradling his head in her arm so that his
wonderful mouth never lost contact with her breast. As he
suckled her breast, she continued stroking his body and
enjoyed the feel of his smooth skin. After a while, she
disconnected him and had him kneel between her legs, then
lifted her skirt and removed her panties. "Put them on," she
directed as she handed over her silky panties and with a broad
smile on his face, Tommy eagerly complied. "Now, eat my pussy
little Sissy, eat it good and I may let you do it again."
Stephanie's mound had a light covering of bright red
hair, the same color as on her head. Her lips were swollen
and partially open from his sucking of her breasts. When he
parted the lips, Tommy found the inner flesh to be bright pink
and her little clitoris stood up erect as a cock. Her juices
were flowing freely from her excitement, and Tommy lapped at
her slit trying to get every drop. His tongue flicked her
clit and worked deep into her opening then returned to her
clit in a continuous and frantic ballet. Stephanie couldn't
take much of this, the best treatment her young pussy had ever
experienced. Over the next 25 minutes she came 9 times and
each time drenched his face with her flow. Finally, she
pulled him upright, unable to take any more for a while and
kissed him on the mouth, tasting her own sweet juice on his
lips. "Oh, you darling little Sissy,...You will be spending
a LOT of time doing THAT!"
Stephanie then marched him to the bathroom and handed him
a razor and told him not to come out until he was hairless
below the neck. Tomi smiled and gave Stephanie a kiss on the
cheek then went into the bathroom and whistled as he removed
the awful hair from his body. When he emerged he was almost
as hairless as the day he was born and after surveying the
results, Stephanie gave her approval.
Back in the bedroom, Stephanie handed him a pair of pink
bikini panties, matching bra (including two foam pads) and
garter belt with pale off-white stockings. She watched as he
quickly donned the garments and noted that he knew EXACTLY how
to put them on and wear them properly. Last night was not the
first time this boy had dressed as a girl. A full length slip
followed, and was topped by a cute floral-print chiffon dress.
It had big ruffles around the cleavage, collar and hem. For
accessories she chose a pink belt and a pink hat and a pair of
black patent leather shoes. Stephanie lead him to the
dressing table and was going to do his makeup and hair, when
to her amazement he did it himself and as competently as any
girl she had ever seen. When he was done, he was one of the
prettiest girls she had ever seen and she knew he could go
anywhere without detection.
When the other girls returned, Tomi met them at the door
all smiles and giggly. "You did a great job on him," Debbie
said to Stephanie, "No, he did it himself," she replied. All
of the girls inspected him and complemented him on how pretty
he looked and what a good job he had done on his makeup and
hair. Tomi, blushed and gave each a kiss and a hug for their
complements. They spent the rest of they day like 7 girls,
talking, joking, playing games, listening to records and
having a good time. It was as if they had forgotten that one
was really a boy. From that day on, Tomi/Tommy had an
entirely new life. Each day he would go to the stage area of
the school whenever he was scheduled for a study hall. One of
the girls would meet him there and invariably he would be
dressed in one of the many costumes the school maintained for
their plays. After one of the other girls caught him eating
Stephanie's pussy in one of the dressing rooms, he soon was
directed to eat all of them. By then he was most times while
dressed, ordered to provide one or more girls with sex in some
form. Usually he had to eat their tight little snatches, and
sometimes they wanted to fuck either vaginally or anally.
After school he would be told which girl's house to
report to, and once there, either served them as a waitress
with no panties, or would be dressed in frilly clothing to
serve them. The girls would always stroke his cock and balls
whenever he was within reach, because they had decided that if
he was hard and no one needed his cock for sex, then he must
put on a jerk-off show for the girls present.
The first time he was told to put on a show for the
girls, he had refused. Stephanie, the most dominant of the
group, put her knee in his crotch and busted his balls pretty
bad. He had doubled over on the floor, and she and Debbie had
removed his clothing, then Stephanie again demanded that he
jerk-off for them. When he groaned that he couldn't, Stepha-
nie pulled his scrotum and smacked his balls hard! Then lead-
ing him by his balls, which she squeezed in her hand, she led
him to the TV and told him to sit on it.
She told him to jerk-off or she would twist his balls
off! He didn't respond, he was exasperated and helpless,
Stephanie twisted, and Tommy winced, groaned, bent forward,
shrieked, THEN he took his cock in hand and he beat it off for
them. He half filled a drinking cup, cumming four times.
Then was forced to drink his own cum while the girls cheered
him on.
Their Senior year, Stephanie got into bondage and
discipline, having been given some books on the subject, by
other girls she knew. One day she called Tommy to her in the
back stage area and showed him a cock strap and told him she
wanted him to wear it at all times unless she gave him
permission to remove it. He didn't want to do it but knew
Stephanie would bust his balls again if he didn't. So he let
her put it on him, under his balls and over his cock; making
both stick straight out. That evening all the girls saw the
new strap as he served refreshments to the girls and as soon
as they had stroked him to hardness, he was ordered to dance
for them. His balls were shaking and jiggling as he danced
and all of the girls watched and teased him. When Stephanie
tired of watching him shake his genitals, she said, "OK, now
show us how you jerk-off!" Which he did although red from the
embarrassment not the sex.
Tommy had become their sex slave, and tried to keep all
six mistresses happy. This was almost too much for one boy to
accomplish as they sometimes would make conflicting demands
upon him. Stephanie, however, established herself as the
primary Mistress and none of the others, ever tried to
contradict her.
Stephanie, would often have him come to her house, for
one-on-one training. She would strip him and tie his hands
behind his back, then take a shower and have him dry her pussy
and anus with his tongue. She would take him for walks naked
at night, with a leash tied to his balls and threaten to take
him to friends houses, if he did not immediately obey her
every command.
She celebrated her good luck by ordering him to bend over
a footstool and with his legs spread very wide, whipped his
buttocks and inner thighs with a belt, making him count the
swats. He remained in this position while she sat behind him
and squeezed his testicles awhile. At other times, she would
tie him in her dad's workshop, with his wrists bound overhead
to a hook on a beam, and would twist a piece of plastic
covered wire tightly around his cock to keep him erect. Then
attach alligator clips snapped onto the tips of his nipples,
the teeth biting hard into his flesh. She made him stand on
tip toes for hours, the clips chewing into his nipples and
amused herself by brushing his penis with a stiff brush.
Occasionally, Stephanie would fuck his ass with a dildo,
her older sister had given her. When she told the other girls
she had done this, they all wanted to see it, so that evening
she did it in front of all the girls. Tommy climaxed from the
ass fucking with the dildo, and it became a daily part of the
show thereafter. It was only a question of which girl, with
which dildo his backside was being plowed.
The night of their graduation party, Stephanie took him
to the party fully dressed as a girl, with his hands bound
behind his back. He was dressed in a bra, panties, garter
belt, stockings, sheer blouse and short denim skirt. He had
on full makeup and Stephanie had plucked his eyebrows so that
they were definitely female in appearance and had sprayed him
with perfume. She wore her older brothers clothing and when
they arrived at the party, told the other k**s that they had
challenged one another to dress up in each other's clothing.
Tomi had taken the switch to heart, she added pointing out his
plucked eyebrows, shaved legs, and lifting his skirt to reveal
his panties, garter belt and stockings. Tommy's friends
stared as he reddened. Stephanie told them that he had balked
at going to the party and that she had been forced to tie him
up before they left.
For the rest of the party he was teased unmercifully by
his friends and their dates. He was totally humiliated, and
begged Stephanie to take him home, but they stayed the entire
party. Some of the boys sat beside him and asked him what it
was like to wear girls clothing and one named Dennis even
stroked his thigh when he thought no one was looking.
Stephanie, however, observed it and whispered in the boy's
ear, that Tomi would give him a blowjob if he wanted and if
she could watch. "Why Not!" he replied, and Tomi was lead to
another room, the door closed and locked behind them.
Tomi was placed on his knees and Stephanie unbuckled the
other boy's pants and lowered them. "Isn't she pretty,"
Stephanie said as she stroked the boy to hardness. "Damn near
as good looking as you," he replied. Stephanie then lead
Dennis to Tomi and placed the hard 7" cock to his lips. Tomi
knew he had no choice so he gave Dennis the best blowjob he
could with his hands bound behind him. Stephanie watched with
interest as Tomi 'deep throated' the boy and thought to
herself that "this is not his first blowjob either." Dennis
came hard, but Tomi managed to swallow almost all of his cum;
then Stephanie, who had been fingering herself throughout the
show, ripped off her panties and forced her pussy into his
mouth.
Dennis watched as Tomi worked over Stephanie's fine cunt
and while watching grew hard again. Seeing this, Stephanie
looked at him and said, "Fuck his ass, do it real good too."
Dennis needed no further encouragement and soon was buried to
the hilt in Tommy's tight ass, and stroked hard, pushing
Tommy's face even deeper in to Stephanie's pussy. Stephanie
was now coming almost continuously and when Dennis shot his
load in Tommy's ass, Tommy also came without anyone ever
touching his dick. They collapsed in a heap on the floor and
when they emerged the party was over. Both 'girls' kissed
Dennis goodnight and he thanked them for the good time, whis-
pering in Tommy's ear that he would never tell anyone about
it. Stephanie, however, made no such promise.
On the way home, Stephanie looked over at her still bound
passenger and said, "You had to do it sometime, if your going
to live as a girl, AND YOU WILL BE LIVING AS A GIRL FROM HERE
ON OUT!"


CHAPTER 6


COLLEGE


Stephanie took him with her to college when she left
after graduation, where he assumed the full-time identity and
life of a woman. He served as her housemaid and body servant.
The other girls attended the same college and on weekends they
had parties at Stephanie's apartment. The feature attraction
at the parties was a little brown haired slave girl named Tomi
who had been put on hormone treatments and now had breasts
which measured "34A" but almost filled a "B" cup bra. Tomi
was still smaller than the girls standing only 5'4" and 110
lbs. and when dressed in his 'Roman slave' costume with it's
short white skirt, tunic and sandals looked the part of a
young girl. His hair now reached almost to his waist in back
and was worn straight, parted down the center of his head.
The girls liked to assume the role of 'gladiators' and
would tie him face down on the bed with his knees spread apart
on the floor and then slam 7-10" strap-on dildos in and out of
his poor young ass until he came on his own. Occasionally,
one of them would allow him to fuck her, but they seemed to
prefer making love to a small thin girl rather than his man
meat. Stephanie, however, allowed him to fuck her almost
every night, AFTER she tired of his talented mouth.
At the beginning of her Sophomore year, Stephanie wanted
to pledge a Sorority, called 'Beta Delta Omega' which the
girls in confidence said meant "B & D Forever" and consisted
of girls into Female Domination of men. In order to gain
admission, Stephanie had to present her slave to the Sorority
at a party to be held and demonstrate her control over him.
Tommy was not told what was going to happen only that Stepha-
nie was taking him out for the night and that they would be
going to a Sorority party.
When they arrived at the house, Tomi was lead inside by
Stephanie and found the room filled to capacity with over 100
beautiful women. He was lead into a large living room off the
center entrance hall and was told to stand in the middle of
the room. When the door was closed behind him, the room was
in total darkness until a powerful desk lamp was turned on,
spotlighting him in the center of the room. It took a few
seconds for his eyes to adjust to the dim light and it was
then that he realized that all of the women he had seen when
he entered the house, now surrounded him. The room was silent
except for a few whispers, until one of the girls spoke from
the darkness.
Tomi was asked his name and told that his mistress,
Stephanie had applied for membership in this sorority, and
that in order for her to be accepted, HE would have to undergo
some initiation rites. He was asked if he wanted his
Mistress to be accepted and if he were willing to do what was
necessary to help her. He responded that he was willing to do
anything for Stephanie. "VERY GOOD," said the voice from the
dark, "Start by Undressing."
Tomi suddenly became afraid, he had been nude in front of
the six girls many times, but there were over 100 here and he
was reluctant to show them his feminized body. He looked at
the girls closest to him and noted they were all holding large
paddles and they way they were gripping them indicated to him
that they were just looking to use them. He quickly stripped
down to his panties and bra and his softly rounded form and
swelling breasts brought whispers of appreciation from some of
the girls in the room. When he hesitated for a second, the
next instruction was both verbal and physical. With what he
was sure wall all of the power the girl could muster, one of
the girls hit him square on the ass with her paddle, while
another reminded him that he had been told to take off his
clothing and that meant ALL of his clothing!
Tomi quickly removed his bra and again heard many
whispers of appreciation at his well formed breasts. When he
hesitated again, he received another hard whack on the rear
end. He now knew that whatever else was going to happen to
him, he was going to have to stand naked before a room full of
over 200 female eyes. When his clean shaven crotch came into
view he once again heard many whispers of admiration at the
work Stephanie had done. He was then told to bend over and
spread the cheeks of his ass and turn slowly around the room,
red from head to toe he slowly complied, just missing another
whack with the paddle.
The voice then told him to circle the room, facing each
girl in the front row and presenting his genitals to her. He
was given a small saucer that he had to place under his
testicles before stepping in front of each girl, allowing them
to pull, squeeze, and probe him as they pleased. Many of the
girls also worked on his breasts in addition to his cock and
balls and it was during this part of the initiation that he
started to develop an erection.
After each girl in the front row was finished with him,
he was told to go back to the middle of the room and jerk off
in time with a record that began playing on the record player.
By now his penis was fully erect and frankly he was looking
for some relief. Having jerked off for the girls many times,
this was nothing new, so he grabbed himself and to the cheers
and clapping of the girls brought himself off in a tremendous
climax which shook his entire body.
At this point several more slaves were brought into the
room and Tomi was made to suck each to a climax, swallowing
all of their cum. He was told that if he lost any, he would
receive a whack for each drop lost. Again he received cheers
as he performed above apparent expectations. One of the other
slaves was then told to fuck Tomi's ass, and soon Tomi felt
what had to be a 10" long and very thick cock working it's way
up his ass. He relaxed his ass and without any trouble the
boy was buried to the hilt. As his ass was being fucked, he
reached out and drew the other slave back to him and sucked
the boy's cock; this brought a resounding cheer and applause
from the girls who had not expected such a show.
Needless to say, Stephanie was accepted into the sorority
and Tomi became the 'Property of the House' and had to service
any girl at any time. Only Stephanie, however was permitted
to discipline him. He lived for the next 6 years in that
house, while Stephanie got her BA, MA, and PHD degrees. Upon
graduation with her doctor's degree in psychology, Stephanie
set up practice in a town nearby and she and her housemaid
lived together for many years.


*****************
The End?




















From impala@erols.com Sat Apr 05 08:31:26 1997
Path: news1*****ave.net!news-dc-10.sprintlink.net!news-pull.sprintlink.net!news-peer.sprintlink.net!howland.erols.net!feed1.news.erols.com!news
From: "Impala" <impala@erols.com>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.tg
Subject: REPOST MICHELLE
Date: 5 Apr 1997 13:31:26 GMT
Organization: Erol's Internet Services
Lines: 1237
Message-ID: <01bc41c6$43a13660$1d0960cf@impala.erols.com>
NNTP-Posting-Host: lxp-as1s29.erols.com
Mime-Version: 1.0
Content-Type: multipart/mixed; boundary="----=_NextPart_000_01BC419C.5ACB2E60"
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit
X-Received-On: 5 Apr 1997 13:31:26 GMT
X-Newsreader: Microsoft Internet News 4.70.1155

This is a multi-part message in MIME format.

------=_NextPart_000_01BC419C.5ACB2E60
Content-Type: text/plain; charset=ISO-8859-1
Content-Transfer-Encoding: quoted-printable


------=_NextPart_000_01BC419C.5ACB2E60
Content-Type: application/octet-stream; name="mstorys.txt"
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit
Content-Description: mstorys.txt (Text Document)
Content-Disposition: attachment; filename="mstorys.txt"

Subject: michelle's story #2
Date: Mon, 04 Nov 1996 08:29:18 -0800
From: michelle <pattee@mail.ohio.net>
Organization: Microserve Information Systems (800)-380-INET
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.tg




My Aunt Gave Me A New Life







As i already wrote, my Mistress has threated to turn me into a gay
shemale slut -- and i'm terrified. Last night i began thinking about how
this whole thing began.

We've lived next door to one another for years, and i've always admired
Her from a distance. She is beautiful! She has a small frame, 5'2",
dark hair, beautiful eyes, a dynamite little body with good size breasts,
beautiful legs. i guess You can say that She was my fantasy. A number
of years ago, when they first moved in next door, She came over with her
daughter to introduce Herself to my wife and i. She wore yellow tight
short shorts with a halter type of top and my mouth just dropped and
drooled. my Wife noticed and made a joke about it later, asking if our
next door neighbor would be my new Mistress.

Well, since that time my "Mistress" has gotten a divorce, Her daughter
has grown up to be a beauty herself, and i've grown to have just too much
time on my hands.

i work at home, so i have plenty of time to play my lingerie games when
my Wife goes to work. She knows about my fetish for panties and female
items, and She tolerates it, but doesn't encourage it. So for most of
our married years we have satisfied one another (more and more
infrequently) in the usual borely quick missionary style and then off to
sleep. At least She let me wear some panties when we made love!

That's what got me in trouble, i guess. i was wearing a pair of those
panties the day my neighbor stopped by for some "male help." A limb of a
tree had broken -- not completely off -- but enough to threated to break
one of Her windows. She wanted me to use a ladder, climb up and saw the
limb. i was only too happy to give Her a hand.

I got everything i needed and was up the ladder doing my "duty". i had
on a rather short pair of shorts myself, which, because of the years, had
become a little tight. i got the limb cut, put the ladder away, and She
invited me in for a cup of coffee.

While we were sitting down on the couch in Her living room, She looked me
straight in the eyes and asked what color my panties were. i died! She
had seen the clear panty line beneath my shorts and while i was coming
down the ladder She caught a glimpse of the waist band peeking above the
top of my shorts. "you're a panty boy", She said as She stared me down.

Without saying more than another word, She kneeled in front of me and
began opening the catch of my shorts. i was unable to move. She smiled
and gave a sly laugh when She revealed a pink satin panty under my
shorts. "These will have to come off," She said as She tugged my shorts
down my legs. I was as hard as a rock and She was having a good time of
my embarrassment.

my shirt came off, too. my nipples were hard as Her delicate fingers
played with the tips. "i think i've found a new play toy", She said.
She kissed me full on the lips as Her hand carressed my hard cock through
my panties.

She got up, and told me to stay there while She got Herself ready. i
thought She was going to slip into something really sexy. i was getting
hot and sweaty just thinking about getting into Her pants -- my fantasy
girl! Suddenly, there was a click of a camera -- then two -- then three.
She had taken a quick half a dozen pictures of me before i could cover
up. "I don't think You want to DO that," She said. i dropped my shirt
which i had grabbed and She told me to start playing with my cock through
my panties.

click! click! As i masturbated through my panties She began to tell me
how my life would change. "i am not interested in males," She said. "i
got rid of My last one and haven't had a need for one since. Do you want
to know what happened to My husband?", she asked me.

"Well, SHE'S living with a pimp and earning her money off the streets. I
decided that he was a slut of a man to live with, so I used my wiles and
my charms -- and a few other little surprises -- and I feminized him. In
fact, I've completely turned him into a shemale. Do you want to see a
picture?" She went to a shelf and showed me some pictures of a man
progressively being changed from a male to a female. The last picture
showed him with huge breasts, a female face stuffed with cock, and a huge
cock of his own.

i came in my panties as i looked at the pictures. She just laughed a
wicked little laugh and told me to tuck myself away and go back home.
"Oh, by the way", She added, "I've also got YOU on tape." She pointed
out a video camera that i hadn't noticed pointing right me. "Go home,
**********, until I call you", She said.

She kept my shorts and my shirt and i had to slither back home hoping no
one would notice me. No one did.

The next day i did get a call. i was sweating things out hoping that my
new Mistress wouldn't tell my Wife what i had done. She didn't. "Be
here in five minutes", She told me. "Be wearing your jockey shorts and
carry over in your hand a pair of your frilliest panties." She hung up
as soon as She gave Her command.

When i arrived, She chided me for not carrying the panties so
anyone could them. She commanded me to strip down to my jockey shorts
and stand before Her naked. She took the yellow panties i had brought
along and played with my nipples with the material.

"I want you to take off those male shorts -- because you don't deserve to
wear male clothing, you pussy," She said. "What kind of male would wear
panties? you are a pitiful excuse as male and I'm going to change all
that for you." She commanded me to strip my jockeys off and handed me a
scissors. "Cut through the crotch," She demanded. i didn't know what
Her game was, but She was dressed so sexy in a see-through blouse --
braless -- short mini skirt. i did as She commanded. "Throw them away
and put your panties on, slut," She ordered. Then as happened the day
before i was told to mastrubate in the panties while She watched and sent
on my way back home.

i had to repeat this process every day for the next ten days until i
finally ran out of jockeys. "you will NEVER wear male underwear again,"
She told me. "Today, your training begins. We will meet for an hour
each morning. I will take command of your mind and soul. your life, as
you have known it, is over. By the time I'm finished with you, you will
become a gay shemale slave like my former husband."

i didn't -- couldn't -- believe what i was hearing. During the past ten
days i have been photographed in the most compromising positions, but i
have never had sex with my Mistress. i cannot just leave because of Her
proof that i had done unspeakable things. For more than ten days She has
repeated to me over and over again that i am not a male, but a sissy,
slutty shemale. She makes me repeat over and over again that i love cock
and want to obey my Mistress. i am mind-numbed at what has happened.

She says that by years end i will be well on my way to being like Her
husband -- i will be gay, on my way to becoming a shemale -- and i will
be looking for a new home.

help!

michelle

------=_NextPart_000_01BC419C.5ACB2E60
Content-Type: application/octet-stream; name="mstorys2.txt"
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit
Content-Description: mstorys2.txt (Text Document)
Content-Disposition: attachment; filename="mstorys2.txt"

Subject: Can She Make Me Gay?
Date: Sun, 03 Nov 1996 21:22:41 -0800
From: michelle <pattee@mail.ohio.net>
Organization: Microserve Information Systems (800)-380-INET
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.tg

i'm a little concerned. i have never been interested in anything but a
heterosexual life-style. i've enjoyed reading stories about how men were
forced into Gay experiences and then trapped into that life-style
permenantly. Whenever i've read such stories i've always found myself
hard and horny -- especially when the woman first feminized the male or
changed him into a shemale. That is REALLY a turn on.

my Mistress has taken notice that i gravitate toward this kind of
fantasy. She said that She has personally transformed straight males
into full time gay sissies and that She has determined that i am to join
that sorority. i'm terrified.

First, i don't believe you can make someone gay -- can you? She says
it's a matter of mind-control; Her mind over mine. She has been
repeating over and over again Her threat to make me a Gay sissy -- or
even worse, a Gay shemale sissy. i've heard the threat enough so that i
can't stop thinking about it. Day and night the thought She has planted
in my mind is becoming an obsession. Is this what mind-control is all
about?

Like the moth to the flame i can't seem to turn away. Each time She
feminizes me She makes me think of sucking cock and being used by a male
as a slut. Now, when i see a man i look at his bulge and wonder how full
my mouth would be with his meat. i've never had thoughts like this
before, and now i can't stop thinking this way.

She says i'm getting closer and that i will eventually beg to be Her Gay
shemale slut. i don't want it to be this way, but i wonder what it would
be like. Can She really control me and change me? Will it be a
permenant change like She said?

i'm thinking of running away from Her, but She laughed and asked me to
try. i did -- but i couldn't leave Her. She told me that She knew i
wouldn't be able to, and that my Gay days would be here before the end of
the year.

i've never believed that the stories were anything more than stories, but
i feel trapped -- seduced by my Mistress's desires to reshape my sexual
orientation.

Can i get out of this, or is it too late. Help please!

michelle

------=_NextPart_000_01BC419C.5ACB2E60
Content-Type: application/octet-stream; name="michelle3.txt"
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit
Content-Description: michelle3.txt (Text Document)
Content-Disposition: attachment; filename="michelle3.txt"

Subject: michelle's Story #3
Date: ***, 05 Nov 1996 13:44:34 -0800
From: michelle <pattee@mail.ohio.net>
Organization: Microserve Information Systems (800)-380-INET
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.tg

She asked me what i had done with all my male underwear, i told Her.
Mistress Sandy
smiled at me and asked, what did you tell her?

i told her that i liked wearing silky things and that i got rid of
them.

What did she say about that?, asked Mistress.

She told me that if that’s the way i wanted it, it would be a cold day
in hell before i got
any male underwear to put back into my drawer. Then she reminded me
about my
doctor’s appointment coming up next week. ‘You’ve got an appointment
with Dr.
Smith!’, she quipped.

Who’s Dr. Smith?, asked Mistress.

She’s our family doctor and i’ve got a physical coming up next week. my
Wife told me
that since i had changed my wardrobe so dramatically, it would stay that
way. She said i
would have to go to the appointment wearing one of my daintier panties.

And so you shall, stated Mistress.

* * * *

i had spent the first two hour of the morning, after my wife had left for
work, in Mistress
Sandy’s house next door. As it had been for the past 12 days or so, i
have stripped down
to my underwear. i only have panties now since Mistress Sandy had me cut
up, one each
day until they were gone, my male jockey shorts. i didn’t have enough
panties to replace
all the male underwear i had destroyed, so She made sure that i went to
J.C. Penny’s
everyday to purchase one new pair of panties in my size.

i’ve purchased panties -- many of them -- before. This was different,
however. Before i
would go once or twice a year, and i was certain that any store clerk who
had helped me
would never remember who i was. Everyday Mistress made me go back to the
same
store, seek out the same young clerk to help me select my panties for the
day, go to the
same cashier, and then go home. By the second day the young lady who was
helping me
knew fully that i was buying the panties for myself. By day four, She
was greeting me by
name before i even entered the rows that had the panties. Day six, She
held a pair of
panties to my waist to make certain they would fit. my embarrassment
deepened by the
day.

i finally told Her that my Mistress was making me buy panties for Her.
She looked me in
the eye and said, sure! And isn’t it nice that you are both the same
size? Red is just the
color i naturally turn now when i see my lady clerk.

After i had shaved my legs -- a daily routine in Mistress Sandy’s
bathroom -- i came out
for my daily inspection. There were no more pictures taken of me
anymore. Mistress
said She had all the pictures She needed to assure my silence. But
still, i have the urge to
get out of this twisted nightmare before i’m sucked in for good.

i’ve thought about just telling my wife everything -- especially since
i’ve never had sex of
any kind with Mistress Sandy. It would be far preferrable to take the
embarrassment and
punishment and run before She makes me Gay. i have to repeat my
submissive mantra
an hour in Her presence -- and She has me repeating it at least three
more hours during
the day. i am not a man -- i am a sissy fag -- i am not a man -- i am a
cocksucking slut --
i am not a man -- my pussy belongs to my Mistress -- i am not a man -- i
love wearing
panties. On and on it goes until all i can think about is my
feminization and slavery.
Each day before i leave She chuckles and tells me that soon i will be
sucking cock
dressed like a slutty whore. She says i will beg for it.

Now you can see why i have to get out of this mess. What would happen if
Her daughter
ever came home and found me with Her mother? Then i would be in trouble
with the
police since Her daughter’s ******* (at least i think She is!)

my assignment today: buy a bra from my saleslady. A bra from a store
i’ve NEVER
done. i’ve purchased one from mailorder, but never from the store. i am
to ask for help
being sized and for my saleslady’s opinion as to how large the cups
should be. i’ll do this
one last thing and then i’ll tell my wife and get out of this mess. What
a mess i’m in!

michelle

------=_NextPart_000_01BC419C.5ACB2E60
Content-Type: application/octet-stream; name="michelle4.txt"
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit
Content-Description: michelle4.txt (Text Document)
Content-Disposition: attachment; filename="michelle4.txt"

Subject: michelle's story #4
Date: Thu, 07 Nov 1996 08:27:40 -0800
From: michelle <pattee@mail.ohio.net>
Organization: Microserve Information Systems (800)-380-INET
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.tg

i now have a new bra -- "My Satin Fantasy", it's called. i decided the
other day to get this humiliation over with since Mistress Sandy ordered
me back to my saleslady to ask help to buy a bra. For two weeks now i
had to go to Penny's to buy one pair of panties each day to replace the
jockey shorts my Mistress was destroying. i had to use the same young
saleslady each day -- and by the end of the first week i couldn't hide
the fact anymore that i was buying the panties for myself. But a bra?

i saw the saleslady, a beautiful young woman in her early 20's with a
gorgeous figure, and She immediately smiled and came up to me. "Well,
what kind of panties do you want today, my good fairy."

my head was bowed and i told Her that i was not interested in panties
today, but a bra. "i need help finding out what size i wear," i told Her
-- "and i need to ask You to help me determine what size cups i should be
wearing." She laughed outloud causing some other customers to look our
way.

"Come right this way, sweetie, i've got just the bra for you," She said.
She held up a satin bra with a flower pattern on it to my chest. "Do
you want big tits or small ones?", She asked me. i told Her i didn't
know, that it was up to Her. "I think you're a big tit person, aren't
you?", She asked. With that She gave me a DD size up. "you can take
this up to the cashier -- or, do you want to wear it home?," She quipped.
i nearly died.

i was sure that this was the last straw and that i would do anything to
get myself out of this mess. i was going to tell me wife about
everything. She'd be mad as hell, but at least i wouldn't be being
blackmailed like i was now.

When i got home i had a message on my phone machine. It was from
Mistress Sandy instructing me to come over wearing my new bra and a pair
of panties that matched the closest. She instructed me to shave my legs
and "make myself pretty for Her." What if my Wife had gotten that
message instead of me?, i thought. i knew i had to go over to my
neighbor and straighten this fiasco out.

i went over there with my new package still in my hands and no intention
of wearing it for Her. When i rang the bell, She didn't answer directly,
but i heard someone yell for me to come in. i walked in the door and
looked in the front room and no one was there. The television was on and
there on the screen was ME! She was playing the video of me masturbating
into my panties and saying all sorts o leud things. my eyes were rivoted
on the TV and i didn't notice that someone had come into the room behind
me.

"Nice pictures", She said. i swung around to see Mistress Sandy's
daughter, Becky, standing there with very little on. She was in black
panties, a tiny black bra which barely held Her soft breasts, black
garter and stockings finished her ensemble. She walked straight up to
me, put Her arms around me neck and began kissing me deeply. Her small
hand began to rub the bulge growing in my panties. i was in a stew --
horny as hell but scared at the new twist this nightmare was taking. i
tried to push Her away, but She just hung on -- and then without a
warning She lifted Her knee briskly into my crotch. i doubled over and
grabbed my balls with a most surprised look on my face.

"you asshole! Why aren't you wearing your bra? I'd suggest you get
yourself properly dressed so we can have some fun!", She ordered.

i don't know why i did it, but i began taking off my shirt and pants, and
soon i was standing there with my new bra and white panties. Becky was
quite pleased at my behavior, and again came toward me. She began to
play with my nipples through the bra while rubbing Herself closely
against my body. She was intentionally turning me on to the point that i
could not think straight. She was kissing me again -- carressing me --
pushing down on my shoulders -- thrusting her panties crotch to my lips.

Over the next half hour i did all sorts of delicious things to that young
body -- and then She began to do some delicious thing to mine. She
rubbed my panties until they were wet with my precum -- and then She
slipped my little dick out and began to put it into Her mouth. She
played with me, bringing me to the point of climax over and over again,
only to stop before i could cum.

Suddenly the front door swung open -- and there was Mistress Sandy.
"Well, my little queer," She said -- "i see you also enjoy lesbian lust!"
As hard as i was, i grew limp in only seconds. "What do you think you
are doing with my daughter?", She demanded in an angry tone.

"Your daughter came on to ME!", i countered.

She walked through the room toward a door that i had not payed attention
to before -- and stood by the video camera that was on.

"I think you had better do what we ask, my little whore," She said.

I knew that i had been trapped for good.

*****

The next hour was spent repeating my mantra, blue balls and all.
Mistress Sandy and Mistress Becky were talking about how their little
plan worked and how they intented to continue my feminization.

my next assignment? Go back to my saleslady. Only this time i am to be
wearing my yellow stretch lace panties, my new bra with two panties
stuffed into each cup, shorts, and a thin white shirt. It's too cold to
be wearing shorts this time of year, so i know that everyone will notice,
especially since my legs are shaved smooth. And the bra! Those flowers
show through anything -- especially when they are stuffed! i am to buy
two more bras, a garter belt and black nylons, some nail polish and
matching lipstick (my saleslady's choice of colors). i am to wear put
the lipstick on and wear it home -- and i am to give Mistess's phone
number to the saleslady so She can verify that i followed my
instructions.

NOTE OF HELP FROM MY READERS: Mistress has complained that my legs are
not smooth enough. i am shaving everyday, but by the end of the day i
have a rough little stubble which She does not like. She wants me girl
smooth all the time. Any suggestions?

------=_NextPart_000_01BC419C.5ACB2E60
Content-Type: application/octet-stream; name="michelle5.txt"
Content-Transfer-Encoding: quoted-printable
Content-Description: michelle5.txt (Text Document)
Content-Disposition: attachment; filename="michelle5.txt"

[Previous] [Next] [Hitlist] [Get Thread] [Author Profile]
[Post] [Post] [Reply]
-------------------------------------------------------------------------=
--

Article 46 of 967

Subject: REPOST: michelle's story #5
From: michelle <pattee@mail.ohio.net>
Date: 1996/11/11
Message-Id: <328796F7.5980@mail.ohio.net>
Distribution: world
Content-Type: text/plain; charset=3Diso-8859-1
Organization: Microserve Information Systems (800)-380-INET
Mime-Version: 1.0
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.tg
X-Mailer: Mozilla 2.0 (Win95; I; 16bit)
Article Segment 1 of 2
(Get All 2 Segments)

michelle=92s story #5

i showed HER, i did!. She had ordered me to go back to Penny=92s to buy
somemore
feminine attire -- only this time She wanted me dressed in a most
humiliating manner. i
was to be wearing my yellow stretch lace panties, a tiny pair of shorts
(it was snowing
today!), my flowery bra with each cup stuffed with two pair of panties,
and a sheer white
shirt which would clearly show off my new bra.

i have to stand up for my rights!, so i didn=92t do what Mistress Sandy =
and
Miss Becky told
me to do. i went home, and promised to put this whole thing behind me.
i didn=92t think
that either of my new Mistresses would have the courage to do anthing
about it. Boy, was
i wrong!

*******

my Wife initiated a conversation with me about my new hobby. She is
worried that i now
wear nothing but panties under my clothes and that my legs are shaved
(not that She
objects to how smooth they feel! -- She told me last night that She =
liked
the way our legs
feel when we intertwine in bed!)

She found my bra and asked me just how far i was going to take this new
life-style. i
turned a bit red and stumbled out some sort of answer that i didn=92t =
know.
She ended the
conversation by saying that my new found hobby better not include
anything permenant,
like hormones. i just laughed that one off and hoped that the subject
would go away. i
had never THOUGHT of hormone treatments before -- and then i thought
about the
pictures that Mistress Sandy had shown me of Her feminized husband.

********

Yesterday was Friday and after my bath and shave i meandered next door
dressed in my
pink panties, my flowery bra, and my male outerwear. i was met at the
door by Miss
Becky who greeted me by grabbing at my crotch to make sure there were
panties under
my slacks. But more than grab, She kissed me full on the mouth, forcing
my lips open
while She gave my mouth a tongue-bath.

Mistress Sandy came in to see us carressing and asked, =93how did your
shopping trip go
yesterday?=94

i stumbled a bit and mumbled that =93i didn=92t know=94 when She =
interrupted me
and ordered
me to strip down to my female attire. i slipped out of my male clothing
and stood there in
my panties and bra and She asked me to =93go on with my story!=94

i immediately began making some sort of lame excuse when She confronted
me with the
fact that She had been to Penny=92s and had talked with my saleslady =
only
to find i had not
been there. =93Why?=94, She demanded to know. i told Her that =93i =
just can=92t
DO that kind of
thing -- and what=92s more, i WON=92T do that kind of thing!=94 =
That=92s when
matters became
a little roudy.

She had a riding crop in Her hand and began beating the hell out of me.
i was told not to
move, but to bend over with my ass high in the air so that She could
properly punish me.
i don=92t know why i did it, but i received well over 50 smacks with Her
riding crop. i was
in a lot of pain and was begging for mercy when Miss Becky came to my
aid.

She begged Her mother to give Her a try at convincing me to do things =
Her
way.
Mistress Sandy looked at me with a cruel sneer and hit me in the face.
=93You had better
listen to my daughter. I expect you to do only what i demand -- even if
that means going
to the store bare-ass nakekd.=94 She went on and on, and finally left =
me
in the room alone
with Miss Becky.

Miss Becky came close and began to gently carress my pantied rear which
was quite a
sight with welts and bruises. =93My mother only wants you to have =
fun!=94,
She told me.
Why don=92t you just do what She asks you to?=94

=93i just CAN=92T,=94 i told Her. She said She understood and began to =
get
intimate with me
again. Her fingers began to toy with my nipples as Her mouth closed in
on mine. Her
free hand massaged my now hard cock through my panties and soon She had
me hotter
than a bonfire.

(Get Next Article Segment)

-------------------------------------------------------------------------=
--
[Previous] [Next] [Hitlist] [Get Thread] [Author Profile]
[Post] [Post] [Reply]
-------------------------------------------------------------------------=
--
Home Power Search Post to Usenet Ask DN Wizard Help

Why use DN? | Advertising Info | New Features! | Policy
Stuff
Copyright =A9 1996 Deja News, Inc. All rights reserved.

------=_NextPart_000_01BC419C.5ACB2E60
Content-Type: application/octet-stream; name="michelle5a.txt"
Content-Transfer-Encoding: quoted-printable
Content-Description: michelle5a.txt (Text Document)
Content-Disposition: attachment; filename="michelle5a.txt"

[Previous] [Next] [Hitlist] [Get Thread] [Author Profile]
[Post] [Post] [Reply]
-------------------------------------------------------------------------=
--

Article 46 of 967

Subject: REPOST: michelle's story #5
From: michelle <pattee@mail.ohio.net>
Date: 1996/11/11
Message-Id: <328796F7.5980@mail.ohio.net>

Article Segment 2 of 2
(Get Previous Segment)
(Get All 2 Segments)

She asked me in between kisses if Her friend could come in and join in
the fun. i was so
turned on and hot that i would have agreed to anything. Miss Becky was
certainly the
best part of this whole twisted arrangement -- and was She ever sexy. i
don=92t know how
She disrobed, but all i know is that She was now wearing only the =
laciest
pair of panties
i=92ve ever seen. Her pussy was shaved clean and Her perky nipples were
aching to be
kissed and suckled. i was in heaven.

i noticed that suddenly there was another set of hands playing with me.
my panties were
lowered and a head with a lovely mane of hair lowered itself to my cock.
She took my
hard cock deep into Her mouth while Miss Becky continued to tease every
erotic part of
my body. Every time i was near to cumming, the lovely woman on my cock
would ease
up. i was begging for relief, promising to do anything if only She =
would
let me cum.

=93Anything?=94, asked Miss Becky coyly. i begged Her to bring me off =
and
again promised
that i would do anything She or Her mother would make me do. The new
lady let go of
my cock and began to disrobe. Her tits were large, but her figure was
nothing to compare
with Miss Becky=92s. She did have curves, but not like most sexy women.
Soon this new
lady was down to nothing but her panties. She turned her back to me and
slowly slithered
out of her panties wiggling her smooth ass. Miss Becky began to nibble
my cock and
pushed me on my back while the new lady came close. i looked up and saw
a large cock,
hard and shiny coming toward my face. =93It=92s time you met my =
daddy!=94,
said Miss Becky.
Her dad straddled my chest, pinning me down while Miss Becky continued =
to
fondle my
now half-limp cock.

Mistress Sandy=92s voice all of a sudden stole my attention. =93It=92s =
time to
take the next step,
michelle. you KNOW you want to do it. Just look at that cock -- feel =
it
against your lips
-- feel how smooth it feels on your cheeks -- you KNOW you want it,
michelle. you=92re
my little cocksucker, aren=92t you? =93 Her voice combined with Miss =
Becky=92s
arousing
attention was hypnotic in its affect. i had to do as She commanded. i
opened my lips,
and began to take my first taste of cock.

=93Suck it -- that=92s right! lick the end, my dear. you=92re a =
cocksucker
now, michelle. MY
cocksucker. i=92ve turned you into a fag -- and now you=92re on your =
way to
becoming my
new shemale slut! Go on, cocksucker, make my husband cum!=94 i was mad
with desire
and was trying anything to make him cum deep inside my mouth. He did.

**********

Mistress Sandy allowed me to fuck Her daughter. Everything has been
taped, including
my cocksucking session with Her former sissy husband. On Monday, i will
be going on a
shopping trip WITH Mistress Sandy and Miss Becky. And, oh yeah! They
gave me my
first vitamins!

michelle

-------------------------------------------------------------------------=
--
[Previous] [Next] [Hitlist] [Get Thread] [Author Profile]
[Post] [Post] [Reply]
-------------------------------------------------------------------------=
--
Home Power Search Post to Usenet Ask DN Wizard Help

Why use DN? | Advertising Info | New Features! | Policy
Stuff
Copyright =A9 1996 Deja News, Inc. All rights reserved.

------=_NextPart_000_01BC419C.5ACB2E60
Content-Type: application/octet-stream; name="michelle6.txt"
Content-Transfer-Encoding: quoted-printable
Content-Description: michelle6.txt (Text Document)
Content-Disposition: attachment; filename="michelle6.txt"

[Previous] [Next] [Hitlist] [Get Thread] [Author Profile]
[Post] [Post] [Reply]
-------------------------------------------------------------------------=
--

Article 32 of 967

Subject: michelle's story #6
From: michelle <pattee@mail.ohio.net>
Date: 1996/11/11
Message-Id: <32875167.3091@mail.ohio.net>

Article Segment 2 of 2
(Get Previous Segment)
(Get All 2 Segments)

daddy forced her tongue into my mouth and began grinding her cock into =
my
stomach. It grew -- and while he played with my nipples my resistance
simply melted away. Mistress Sandy began telling us what to do.
"michelle, take your panties down so daddy can get a better look at your
pussy!", She said. i foundf myself lowering my panties and soon we were
in a 69 position each satisfying the other.

"daddy, it's time to show michelle what every girl needs to learn," said
Mistress. With that, i was led to the bed, my wrists were tied to the
corners with me laying on my stomach. daddy placed a pillow under me =
and
i felt my ass being lubricated. i knew what was happening, and i knew
also that i was powerless to stop it.

daddy was gentle, but the first entry hurt like hell. Soon he was
pounding away at my new pussy, while Mistress continued Her chant of =
what
a little cocksucking slut i had become. he came in my ass while i cried
in pain. "you'll never be a man again," said Mistress.

With the several hours over, Mistress Sandy gave me some pills to take
that night, reminded me to be at Her house at 8:00 sharp in the morning,
and sent me back to my Wife -- all made up and this time "skirted". She
kept my pants, filled out my bra with water filled condoms, put a sheer
blouse on me with a matching mini-skirt. i was still wearing my male
shoes so i made quite the sight.

As soon as i walked out the door, Mistress called my Wife and told Her i
needed help at the door. As soon as i was about to open the door,
(hoping my wife would be somewhere else in the house), it opened and my
Wife just stared at me opened mouthed. "Get the hell OUT of here", She
yelled at me, slamming the door. i pleaded with Her through the door to
let me in. She didn't. So i went back to Mistress's house -- but She
too would not open up for me. "Tomorrow morning at 8:00, dear", She
yelled.

i was in a mess with no place to sleep, no keys for any car since my
pants were still in my Mistress's house, and it was cold. "you can come
home with me," a voice said behind me. i turned to see daddy standing
there smiling at me. i had no choice. As i sat down in his car, my
skirt climbed up revealing a peek of my panties. "We're going to have
such fun," he said -- i've got so much to teach you."

michelle

-------------------------------------------------------------------------=
--
[Previous] [Next] [Hitlist] [Get Thread] [Author Profile]
[Post] [Post] [Reply]
-------------------------------------------------------------------------=
--
Home Power Search Post to Usenet Ask DN Wizard Help

Why use DN? | Advertising Info | New Features! | Policy
Stuff
Copyright =A9 1996 Deja News, Inc. All rights reserved.

------=_NextPart_000_01BC419C.5ACB2E60
Content-Type: application/octet-stream; name="michelle6a.txt"
Content-Transfer-Encoding: quoted-printable
Content-Description: michelle6a.txt (Text Document)
Content-Disposition: attachment; filename="michelle6a.txt"

[Previous] [Next] [Hitlist] [Get Thread] [Author Profile]
[Post] [Post] [Reply]
-------------------------------------------------------------------------=
--

Article 131 of 967

Subject: michelle's story #6
From: michelle <pattee@mail.ohio.net>
Date: 1996/11/11
Message-Id: <3287517D.5CD@mail.ohio.net>
Distribution: world
Content-Type: text/plain; charset=3Dus-Ascii
Organization: Microserve Information Systems (800)-380-INET
Mime-Version: 1.0
Newsgroups: alt.sex.femdom
X-Mailer: Mozilla 2.0 (Win95; I; 16bit)
Article Segment 1 of 2
(Get All 2 Segments)

my Wife asked me what was wrong. i guess i had been moping most of the
day because of what Miss Becky made me do with "daddy". Mistress Sandy
had forcefully feminized Her husband some time ago after he had stepped
out on their marriage. Through chemicals and psychological training She
had succcessful turned him into a shemale slut and then She threw him =
out
of the house. As a final gesture of humiliation, She had him retain the
name, "daddy". i met daddy last Friday -- intimately so. i got to =
taste
his cock and cum and he had a ball with mine. The only good thing about
our last meeting was that Mistress Sandy allowed me to fuck Her =
daughter.
While i was still in a dizzy state of mind, they fed me my first
vitamins and sent me on my way back to my wife next doof.

No wonder my Wife wonders if something's wrong. "i'm just preoccupied,
dear," i told Her. She tells me that She's worried and that it's a good
thing i've got my doctor appointment this week. O my God! i forgot!
How can i go to our lady doctor with my legs and body shaved, wearing
panties (since that is all i now owned), and my toenails painted. Now
i've got THAT to worry about.

********

Mistress Sandy called my house and asked my Wife if She could borrow me
for a few hours this afternoon (it's Sunday). my Wife was only too =
happy
to comply, thinking it would take whatever was bothering me off my mind.
"Sandy told me to make sure you wear the proper clothes, whatever that
means!", She yelled at me from across the house.

i meekly showed up at my Mistress's House in my dainties. "Open wide",
She said as i received my daily dosage of vitamins.

"Please, Mistress, You can't do this to me," i begged. "my Wife will
LEAVE me if i begin taking these pills. She's warned me about hormones.
This is going too far."

Mistress Sandy sneered at me. "you no longer HAVE a wife," She said.
"you belong only to Me now -- to me and my daughter. Besides, what =
would
a shemale slut like you want with a wife? you're going to have a body
that needs to belong to a real MAN! I hate to tell you this, michelle,
but until i divorce you, you belong to ME now."

i was trapped! If i told my wife what was happening now, She would =
leave
me. If i DIDN'T tell Her, i would still lose Her. i was being slowly
transformed by my next door neighbor and Her vixon of a daughter -- i =
had
already become a cocksucker, like they had promised -- and there was no
way to turn back the clock.

For the next hour Mistress Sandy worked in earnest to get me ready for
Monday's shopping trip. She spent a lot of time on my hair and face,
thinning my eyebrows to a most feminine line. my hair was cut and set
into a very unisex style -- and then She put some makeup on my face.
"You will have a hard time removing that", She said. "It's a permenant
type of makeup -- try to explain THAT to your former wife!"

i jumped up and got a towel to try and wipe it off, but it stayed put.
Some smeared a bit and, after i recovered from the several slaps She =
gave
me, She repaired the damage. "Let's see if my little sissy can put Her
new lips to good use," She said. "O daddy! Would you come in here?"

daddy came in, wearing only a sheer babydoll nightie with no panties.
her huge breasts, must have been 40 DD, bounced playfully as she came
into the room. her legs were lovely and so smooth. her face, while it
wasn't the most feminine, was not bad looking. "Do i get to play with
michelle somemore?", daddy asked.

daddy came to me and straddled my lap, while beginning to play with my
nipples. i don't know why they have to be the most sensitive part of =
me.
"Pretty soon you'll have big titties just like me," said daddy. "And
just like me, pretty soon you'll just love playing all the games that
your new Mistress will have you playing."

(Get Next Article Segment)

-------------------------------------------------------------------------=
--
[Previous] [Next] [Hitlist] [Get Thread] [Author Profile]
[Post] [Post] [Reply]
-------------------------------------------------------------------------=
--
Home Power Search Post to Usenet Ask DN Wizard Help

Why use DN? | Advertising Info | New Features! | Policy
Stuff
Copyright =A9 1996 Deja News, Inc. All rights reserved.

------=_NextPart_000_01BC419C.5ACB2E60
Content-Type: application/octet-stream; name="michelle7.txt"
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit
Content-Description: michelle7.txt (Text Document)
Content-Disposition: attachment; filename="michelle7.txt"

Subject: michelle #7
Date: ***, 12 Nov 1996 07:57:03 -0800
From: michelle <pattee@mail.ohio.net>
Organization: Microserve Information Systems (800)-380-INET
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.tg

michelle’s story #7

i spent the night with daddy, Mistress Sandy’s ex-husband whom She turned
into a
shemale who must now live off the street. After femininzing me and
humiliating me
Mistress Sandy finally sent me home, but only after calling my wife to
make sure She
would be meeting me at the door. When my wife saw me fully made up
wearing a sheer
blouse and mini skirt, She threw me out. i begged Mistress to let me
back in, but She
refused. daddy, who had fucked my ass just a little while before was
only too happy to
take me to his house.

his apartment is in the seedy side of town where daddy gets his work. he
works the little
dirty bars and 25 cent peek shows to make a living. On good days he may
pull in $100,
but most of the time it’s less than $25.

Making sure that i took my vitamins before i went to bed, daddy told me
that i could
shack up with him for awhile and that he would be happy to show me the
ropes. Maybe if
the two of us worked together we our eek out a better living. Clothing
and lingerie, after
all, cost money. i cried myself to sleep on a smelly mattress sleeping
next to daddy. he
let me wear one of his prettier nighties.

**********

i called my wife to see if She would listen to some reasoning and let me
back home. She
told me that Mistress Sandy had brought Her some tapes to view -- tapes
of me
masturbating into my panties, of me screwing Miss Becky, and of me giving
a blow job to
daddy and then being fucked in the ass by daddy. She demanded a divorce
and hung up
the phone.

**********

Miss Becky knocked on daddy’s door and gave him a big hug. She came up
to me and,
giving me a big kiss, told me that i should look better than i did if i
wanted to go
shopping with Her and Mother. So She took me back to daddy’s closet and
selected a
little sundress for me to put on over my panties and bra. i wore a
garter and stockings,
and my feet were cramped into a pair of daddy’s high heels. Miss Becky
made up my
face in a real slutty fashion with bright red lipstick, dark mascara and
eye makeup. She
took my hand helping me to balance in my new shoes and shooed me out the
door.

We met Mistress at the mall where the first stop was to the beauty shop
to get a workover.
i had my legs waxed (did that hurt!), my hair colored and permed, new
nails put on, and
my face done up professionally (to look like a whore!). i next went to
get my ears triple
pierced -- and then we were off to get me my first female wardrobe. i
had to try
everything on at the store, including a bathing suit and exercise
leotards. Mistress spent
well over $500 on me, telling me that this was a gift for all the trouble
She got me into.

“I told you that i was going to turn you into my newest shemale slut,”
Mistress told me,
“and I have. Look at you! you look more female than male -- you’re on a
strict schedule
of female hormones -- you’ve become a cocksucker and you’ve taken it up
your ass --
you’ve been kicked out of your house by your wife who’s running to
divorce you -- and
you’re living with a shemale who pimps herself off the streets for a
living.”

“You MADE me that way,” i told Mistress. “If it wasn’t for Your daughter
seducing me
into making love with Her -- being u******e and all -- i wouldn’t be in
this mess.”

“u******e?”, piped Miss Becky. “You thought i was u******e? Mommy,
should we
invite the fag to my 20th birthday party next week? Maybe we could dress
him up nice
and pretty and make him be the maid for our party!”

i couldn’t believe what i had heard. i had been lurred and trapped by
two cunning and
beautiful women. “Why me?”, i asked them?

“Because you were so vulnerable,” Mistress Sandy replied. “When i found
out you wore
women’s clothing -- O yes!, I’ve seen you through the window of your home
as you
stared out wearing your wife’s lingerie! I decided that you would be one
of my finest
victims!”

“But what am i to do? What’s going to become of me?”, i asked.

“I told you that you would become a shemale, and that you will. Hormones
are only the
beginning. By year’s end you will have breast implants and augmentation
surgery to
make you unmistakeably female -- other than your cock, mind you. you
will live with
daddy for the next six months and he will teach you how to be a proper
slut. You will
learn to suck cock and worship cock until it becomes second nature to
you. i will make
you the perfect shemale whore -- and then when you are properly trained,
i will see you.”

“Sell me?”

“Yes, my dear! Unless you want to walk away from us right now!”

Where could i go? i had no place to live -- i was dressed like a slutty
whore with no other
clothing to wear. i had no money, and my self-confidence had been
completely shattered.
i looked in a mirror on the wall -- my tears were making my mascara run.
Miss Becky
came over, kissed my cheek and took my hand, and i followed Her to my new
life.

Why didn’t someone help me when i asked? It only took two weeks to turn
a man into a
whore.

michelle

------=_NextPart_000_01BC419C.5ACB2E60
Content-Type: application/octet-stream; name="michelle7.txt"
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit
Content-Description: michelle7.txt (Text Document)
Content-Disposition: attachment; filename="michelle7.txt"

Subject: michelle #7
Date: ***, 12 Nov 1996 07:57:03 -0800
From: michelle <pattee@mail.ohio.net>
Organization: Microserve Information Systems (800)-380-INET
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.tg

michelle’s story #7

i spent the night with daddy, Mistress Sandy’s ex-husband whom She turned
into a
shemale who must now live off the street. After femininzing me and
humiliating me
Mistress Sandy finally sent me home, but only after calling my wife to
make sure She
would be meeting me at the door. When my wife saw me fully made up
wearing a sheer
blouse and mini skirt, She threw me out. i begged Mistress to let me
back in, but She
refused. daddy, who had fucked my ass just a little while before was
only too happy to
take me to his house.

his apartment is in the seedy side of town where daddy gets his work. he
works the little
dirty bars and 25 cent peek shows to make a living. On good days he may
pull in $100,
but most of the time it’s less than $25.

Making sure that i took my vitamins before i went to bed, daddy told me
that i could
shack up with him for awhile and that he would be happy to show me the
ropes. Maybe if
the two of us worked together we our eek out a better living. Clothing
and lingerie, after
all, cost money. i cried myself to sleep on a smelly mattress sleeping
next to daddy. he
let me wear one of his prettier nighties.

**********

i called my wife to see if She would listen to some reasoning and let me
back home. She
told me that Mistress Sandy had brought Her some tapes to view -- tapes
of me
masturbating into my panties, of me screwing Miss Becky, and of me giving
a blow job to
daddy and then being fucked in the ass by daddy. She demanded a divorce
and hung up
the phone.

**********

Miss Becky knocked on daddy’s door and gave him a big hug. She came up
to me and,
giving me a big kiss, told me that i should look better than i did if i
wanted to go
shopping with Her and Mother. So She took me back to daddy’s closet and
selected a
little sundress for me to put on over my panties and bra. i wore a
garter and stockings,
and my feet were cramped into a pair of daddy’s high heels. Miss Becky
made up my
face in a real slutty fashion with bright red lipstick, dark mascara and
eye makeup. She
took my hand helping me to balance in my new shoes and shooed me out the
door.

We met Mistress at the mall where the first stop was to the beauty shop
to get a workover.
i had my legs waxed (did that hurt!), my hair colored and permed, new
nails put on, and
my face done up professionally (to look like a whore!). i next went to
get my ears triple
pierced -- and then we were off to get me my first female wardrobe. i
had to try
everything on at the store, including a bathing suit and exercise
leotards. Mistress spent
well over $500 on me, telling me that this was a gift for all the trouble
She got me into.

“I told you that i was going to turn you into my newest shemale slut,”
Mistress told me,
“and I have. Look at you! you look more female than male -- you’re on a
strict schedule
of female hormones -- you’ve become a cocksucker and you’ve taken it up
your ass --
you’ve been kicked out of your house by your wife who’s running to
divorce you -- and
you’re living with a shemale who pimps herself off the streets for a
living.”

“You MADE me that way,” i told Mistress. “If it wasn’t for Your daughter
seducing me
into making love with Her -- being u******e and all -- i wouldn’t be in
this mess.”

“u******e?”, piped Miss Becky. “You thought i was u******e? Mommy,
should we
invite the fag to my 20th birthday party next week? Maybe we could dress
him up nice
and pretty and make him be the maid for our party!”

i couldn’t believe what i had heard. i had been lurred and trapped by
two cunning and
beautiful women. “Why me?”, i asked them?

“Because you were so vulnerable,” Mistress Sandy replied. “When i found
out you wore
women’s clothing -- O yes!, I’ve seen you through the window of your home
as you
stared out wearing your wife’s lingerie! I decided that you would be one
of my finest
victims!”

“But what am i to do? What’s going to become of me?”, i asked.

“I told you that you would become a shemale, and that you will. Hormones
are only the
beginning. By year’s end you will have breast implants and augmentation
surgery to
make you unmistakeably female -- other than your cock, mind you. you
will live with
daddy for the next six months and he will teach you how to be a proper
slut. You will
learn to suck cock and worship cock until it becomes second nature to
you. i will make
you the perfect shemale whore -- and then when you are properly trained,
i will see you.”

“Sell me?”

“Yes, my dear! Unless you want to walk away from us right now!”

Where could i go? i had no place to live -- i was dressed like a slutty
whore with no other
clothing to wear. i had no money, and my self-confidence had been
completely shattered.
i looked in a mirror on the wall -- my tears were making my mascara run.
Miss Becky
came over, kissed my cheek and took my hand, and i followed Her to my new
life.

Why didn’t someone help me when i asked? It only took two weeks to turn
a man into a
whore.

michelle

------=_NextPart_000_01BC419C.5ACB2E60--

http://www.*****.org/files/Collections/Old_Joe%27s_Collection/TG/Femdom/Michelle%20-%20Can%20She%20Make%20Me%20Gay.txt



































From impala@erols.com Sat Apr 05 08:36:08 1997
Path: news1*****ave.net!news-dc-10.sprintlink.net!news-pull.sprintlink.net!news-peer.sprintlink.net!howland.erols.net!feed1.news.erols.com!news
From: "Impala" <impala@erols.com>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.tg
Subject: REPOST MOAN
Date: 5 Apr 1997 13:36:08 GMT
Organization: Erol's Internet Services
Lines: 3129
Message-ID: <01bc41c6$e2cdcf00$1d0960cf@impala.erols.com>
NNTP-Posting-Host: lxp-as1s29.erols.com
Mime-Version: 1.0
Content-Type: multipart/mixed; boundary="----=_NextPart_000_01BC419C.F9F7C700"
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit
X-Received-On: 5 Apr 1997 13:36:08 GMT
X-Newsreader: Microsoft Internet News 4.70.1155

This is a multi-part message in MIME format.

------=_NextPart_000_01BC419C.F9F7C700
Content-Type: text/plain; charset=ISO-8859-1
Content-Transfer-Encoding: quoted-printable


------=_NextPart_000_01BC419C.F9F7C700
Content-Type: application/octet-stream; name="moam.txt"
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit
Content-Description: moam.txt (Text Document)
Content-Disposition: attachment; filename="moam.txt"








Making of a Mistress



WARNING

This story contains sex among consenting people not generally
considered to be legal age. See "About Making of a Mistress" for
the reasons why. If this offends you, stop reading now. The
author suggest that you view this totally as a fantasy, and use
it only in consensual adult role playing.

This article also contains a strong female domination theme. If
this offends you, you are reading the wrong newsgroup.

-= Mule =-

Making of a Mistress
Preface

Is a dominatrix born or made? Read on and decide.

Contents

Chapter 1 - Susan - Susan and Judy's early sexual experiences
Chapter 2 - Karen - Ken's early sexual experience
Chapter 3 - Susan Again - Susan and Ken's first session
Chapter 4 - Susan Gains Control - Susan gains sexual dominance
Chapter 5 - A Girl and her Toys - Susan learns how to use toys
Chapter 6 - A Girl's Best Friend - Susan learns more toys
Chapter 7 - Judy - Judy returns
Chapter 8 - Two Girls and a Boy - Susan/Judy/Ken's 1st session
Chapter 9 - Four Girls and a Boy - Helen and her k** sister join
Chapter 10 - Kathy - Girls finally get their sexual satisfaction
Chapter 11 - The Girl's Club - high-school girl-dom club
Chapter 12 - The Women's Club - Adult woman-dom club
Chapter 13 - Marital Assistance - Happy ending

-=o=-

I am writing this series of stories for the enjoyment of Helen,
my wife/mistress. I suppose I ought to tell you the history
before I get into the fiction.

It all started when I was ***********. It was raining and I was
at the house of my mother's friend across town while my mother
was at a doctor's appointment. I never had much to do with Susan,
the 6-year-old girl who lived there. I saw her on the rare
occasions of my mother's visits, but these visits were usually
short, and I never played much with her. On this occasion, Susan
was visited by her 13-year old cousin, Judy.

Susan's mom got called away to rescue her husband whose car had
broken down. As soon as she left, Judy suggested that we play
some games. Eventually, it evolved into "show me yours and I'll
show you mine" between Susan and I. Somehow, Susan kept her
clothes on, and so did Judy. I was only one who wound up naked.

Judy suggested playing "dress up" with me using some of her old
clothes, and we played a few games when I didn't have my clothes
on, including one where we bounced a rubber ball around. The
girls rubbed the ball against my penis in the course of play, and
it felt good.

I got dressed, and eventually, the day ended. Susan's mom came
home, I went home. Judy went home, and I hardly ever saw Susan
again.

All of this would have been just another c***dhood memory, one
that is not all that uncommon. Except ... the experience grew
within me. I started to have special feelings every time I though
about it. I liked being told what to do by a girl, enjoyed
playing with myself using the rubber ball, and enjoyed being
dressed like a girl.

As I reached puberty, I learned how to masturbate myself with a
rubber ball, and built up a whole fantasy world around the
incident. I recorded these fantasies in writing.

I should have destroyed these stories when I got married, but I
didn't, and my wife found them. She made me explain them to her,
and started to exploit my submissive side. She made me get rid of
all the stories that didn't feature the girls being in charge and
had me fill in the remaining stories.

I am now ready for publication. My mistress has me sit down at
the computer several times a week for an hour to work on the
stories. If I have writer's block, she has the cure. She makes me
read the stories and pieces I already have and she denies me
relief.

I can go a day or two without relief before I start having lurid
and vivid sexual dreams. About once a month, mistress kicks me
out of bed at 3 AM to start recording them.

The stories are fiction, but they are based on some elements of
truth. Any similarities between the girls in the story and girls
in my life, and the boy in the story and myself is quite
intentional. Mistress Helen, sees herself in several of the
characters and has made some suggestions on how these characters
should act.

I knew how to do some of the things described in the story before
meeting my mistress, and with her help and experimentation, I
learned how to do more. We tested almost all of the techniques
described in the stories and use many of them to this day.

So, without further ado:

-=o=-

Making of a Mistress

Pornography is usually produced by men for men. Quite often books
that are sexually explicit are derogatory to females. This is not
one of those stories. This is a series of stories in which the
females are on top. It features female domination as seen through
the eyes of a young woman. We follow her story as it progresses
from an essentially innocent game of "show me yours and I'll show
you mine" to her becoming a quite accomplished dominatrix.

Girls usually have the upper hand earlier in life until society
starts conditioning them for more traditional roles. They develop
better physical skills (not to mention physical size and
strength) at an earlier age than boys. They reach a level of
mental maturity faster, than their male counterparts and have
more highly developed social skills at a much earlier age. They
quickly learn to cooperate with other members of their sex, and
more readily form alliances against boys.

The earlier school grades reinforce these feminine values:
teachers value social skills, being quiet and obedient in class,
playing nice with others, cooperation instead of competition, and
using small motor skill on projects instead of large muscle
groups on the ball field. It isn't until external factors put
emphasis on sports and technology -- two fields where females are
discouraged from participating -- that they lose the edge. At
this point, they are still to young to defend themselves against
it.

However, during her middle c***dhood years (between about six and
twelve), a girl is, in most measures, superior to her male peers.
Parents are quick to jump to the conclusion that the c***d's
world is as male dominated as the adult world, and therefore,
adults conclude that it must be the boy who is the instigator of
sex games among c***dren. This is not always the case.

Girls are more clannish than boys and their alliances spread
across a wider age group. It is not unlikely to find an older
girl mentoring her younger sister in a number of the feminine
arts including sex.

Whether she discovers it as a result of peer play, or as a result
of being shown by an older girl, nearly every girl knows what a
penis looks like by the time she starts grade school. For most
girls, looking isn't enough; they also experiment with handling
and playing with a penis as well.

Boys, on the other hand, find out about the "mysteries" of sex at
a later age. Almost all find out on a "hit or miss" basis, or get
garbled information through their peer group. By the time a boy
reaches junior high he is left to masturbate over pictures in
magazines. Meanwhile, his "sisters" had handled the real thing
about half a decade before.

This is a story of Susan and her friends, and how they use
ordinary, every day rubber items to masturbate and dominate boys.
However, the story has something for people of all walks of life.

This story is for men who like women since it provides techniques
that any male can appreciate and enjoy. Even if the man doesn't
have a rubber fetish, he'll find the variety of sexual
stimulations exciting. If the man is a rubber lover, then he will
really enjoy the attention given to his cock. The women in their
lives will find these games non-threatening and possibly pleasing
as well.

This story is for men without partners. Most of the techniques
described can be performed by one's self on one's self although
some may require modification. It is generally more fun to have
somebody else perform the actual masturbation, but the solitary
man can have hours of fun by himself.

This story is for boys. Young men don't have access to a frequent
sexual partner. Their sex drive is high, and they need a safe and
pleasurable way for them to explore their own bodies. As
mentioned above, boys can learn how to perform these acts on
themselves. Any boy lucky enough to have an older (or younger)
sister, or other female relative, or maybe even a trusting girl
neighbor, can teach her the techniques easily. Younger girls are
generally more willing to experiment, and accept such an offer.

This story is for men who prefer men. Although the story depicts
a young girl and her girlfriends in charge, there is no reason
that the controlling end of the rubber must be female.

This story is for women who like men. It provides them with a
means for providing sexual gratification to their mates when
conventional methods are not appealing or desired. It describes
to them alternate means to induce sexual excitement (and in some
cases, sexual control) in their partners.

But mostly, it is for girls. Young girls have the interest and
the enthusiasm for play. For some reason, an 8-year-old female is
more willing to take control over sexual experimentation than a
girl twice her age. A young girl quickly learns that boys have
something she doesn't, and this gives rise to "penis envy."
Providing her with a doll that is anatomically correct merely
increases the anxiety. This story provides her with a means to
reduce her penis envy by learning penis control.

As she gets older, a girl is still caught up with the
realization, that the external society favors males. She needs a
way to feel that she can compete, and have control over some
things in her life. Penis control provides some of this relief.
It is safe, spontaneous, and it can be done quickly and privately
or as a planned activity in a group. It requires no special
equipment. Every girl owns a pair of sneakers, and it is not at
all unreasonable for her to have a rubber ball or two, along with
a bathing cap.

This story depicts scenes of group sex play (many girls to a
boy). Studies indicate that this is often the case, and that it
is more common for two (or more) girls to play with a boy than a
single girl alone. Such play does not always diminish as the
girls get older, as many a sorority stunt will prove. The girl
who is lucky enough to have a boy will invariably share him with
her girlfriends. As the "owner" of the boy, she earns a certain
amount of esteem. Other girls will revere her as a teacher. She
will teach them how not to fear men.

Mistress Helen and I hope you enjoy the stories. Use them in good
health in your role playing.


Making of a Mistress
Chapter 2
KAREN

Susan's luck changed for the better about 3 months prior to her
*************. That was when her cousin, Ken, moved in with her
and her mother. Ken was 15, good looking, and from the way his
jeans fit, she could see that he was well hung. Just having a
male in the house was exciting enough, and getting a view of his
cock was a challenge she had to accept.

She figured that since Ken and she shared the basement, (he in
his bedroom, Susan right next door), that the best place to do
this was in the downstairs bathroom. She arranged the blinds so
she could look in without being noticed. The bushes which
provided her the security for most of her previous sexual
conquests kept her from being seen from the street, and kept her
shadow from showing up against the window. Every time Ken went to
the bathroom, She would get to her windowside seat as fast as her
sneakers would take her.

The unfortunate part of the arrangement was that the toilet was
on the far wall, and most of the time, she only got a view of his
back as he stood there urinating. The few frontal views she did
get did little to relax her. Even from the partial views she got,
she could see that it was the largest, most beautiful male sex
organ she had ever seen. She had to get my hands on it somehow.

Things became worse (or better) once summer vacation began. Ken
would come home from baseball practice and take a shower in the
afternoon when she had a chance to watch. She couldn't see him in
the shower, but when he got out, she saw the whole show. As he
dried himself, she could see his partially erected cock sticking
out from her first view of male pubic hair. Not only was the
penis in great shape, but so was the rest of the body, especially
his rear end.

Every time she watched him, her excitement and eagerness grew.
Her hand would find itself under her shorts and in her wet
panties stroking herself. She was so frustrated by this point,
that she began a rather intensive program of playing with little
boys again. (If she couldn't have quality, she figured she'd go
for quantity).

It was while she was examining one of the **********s from down
the street in the garage that Ken caught her. He told the boy to
zip up, go home, and forget about the incident. He told Susan
that he wanted to see her in the kitchen.

When she got into the kitchen, Ken was already seated at the
table and he motioned her to sit opposite him. He immediately
calmed her greatest fears when, instead of the lecture she
expected, he told her that he wouldn't tell the boy's parents or
her mother. In fact, he seemed to be most understanding and said
that he thought it was very natural for girls to have an interest
in penises. As far as he was concerned, there was nothing wrong
with a girl wanting to do something about it. He also said that
***********s might be able to get away with it as a matter of
innocent curiosity, but girls Susan's age couldn't use that
excuse.

He realized that almost every girl knew what a penis looked like
by the time she was Susan's age, and asked her when she first
started playing with them. To Susan's surprise, she told him that
she was already a six year veteran! Susan left out the parts
about Judy and didn't tell him about her most recent voyeurism
involving him. She didn't have to, he knew! He explained that he
knew she was spying on him, which is why he gave her as much
opportunity to see his cock as he could arrange.

Before she could ask why, he explained. He was raised in a very
strict home where sex was never discussed, and he was taught to
think of his penis as a secret. His parents went through the most
elaborate arrangements to maintain modesty, and even his father
(when he still lived with him) didn't allow Ken to see his penis.

One summer, when he was ***********, his mother went overseas as
a personal secretary for her employer. Ken was to stay in the
employer's luxurious house to be taken care of by the house-
keeper, Mrs. Renford, who also lived there with her 6-year-old
daughter, Karen.

On the very first night, Ken found out that Mrs. Renford didn't
share his mother's view about nudity, at least male nudity. As he
was preparing for his bath, she came in to the bathroom along
with her daughter apparently to get a hair brush. He could tell
by the look on Karen's face that she had never seen a boy
undressed before. He remembered being quite embarrassed at the
moment, but later, as he lay in bed, the recollection of the
experience excited him enough to have an erection.

He decided to check out Karen's real interest, to see if she
really saw his penis by accident, or if it were a planned event.
The next morning, he worked up enough courage to offer to play a
game of "show me yours I'll show you mine" with her. Karen wasn't
willing to show herself to Ken, but she had no objection to Ken
exposing himself to her. The two of them went into the closet to
look at Ken's penis. The lighting was rather poor, so Karen had
to feel it rather than look at it. She seemed to be delighted and
giggled as she rolled it around in her fingers. Ken was getting
very excited at having his organ touched by someone else. For
some reason, the fact that the someone else didn't have a penis
of her own to play with excited him even more. Apparently, Mrs
Renford also heard the giggling and she caught them "red handed".
Mrs Renford's only comment was that they shouldn't be playing in
the closet, and they should come out where there was more light
and air.

Ken wasn't sure what to make of Mrs Renford's remarks. Perhaps
she was willing to let the c***dren play their game out in hopes
that it would bore them, and that they would eventually go onto
some other activity. However, she didn't offer any other activity
for them to do. In fact, she left them alone in Karen's room and
closed the door when she left. Karen found more and more things
to do with Ken's penis, and by lunch time, they had graduated to
playing "catch". Karen and Ken would sit on the floor facing each
other with legs spread out. Karen would roll a rubber ball
between Ken's legs. Ken discovered that if he rocked forward, he
could trap the ball under his erected penis. Sometimes, he would
rock early, and poke the ball back to Karen with the tip of his
cock, or rock far enough forward so the ball would roll up the
top of it and back down.

If Ken had doubts about Mrs Renford's intentions, they were soon
erased later that day when they went swimming in the indoor pool.
Mrs Renford and Karen were adequately dressed complete with swim
suits and bathing caps while Ken was required to go "skinny
dipping". After supper, Mrs Renford even took a hand (literally)
in Karen's experimenting. Karen was curious about erections, and
her mother was willing to demonstrate a few pointers using Ken.
She showed her daughter how to jerk him off. Ken was surprised at
how skillful she was, and wondered how she knew to keep on going
until he felt good although she had given him a hard on some time
ago. He didn't even know how to jerk off himself until she showed
him how to do it. His masturbation techniques were limited to
rubbing his penis against the mattress. He wasn't old enough at
the time to ejaculate, but that didn't stop him from jerking off
every chance he got. Although Karen didn't understand why he did
this act, she enjoyed watching him do it nonetheless.

Mrs Renford provided much more than tutoring for her daughter's
sex education benefit. She had uses for Ken, himself. Each night,
after she put Karen to bed, she would bring Ken into her room.
There, she would make him strip (if he weren't already naked, she
encouraged him to remain nude for the amusement of her daughter).
Ken didn't know what to do when he first felt her tongue in his
mouth, but he soon learned how to reciprocate. This, and her
rubbing his penis with her hand, got him going really fast. Mrs.
Renford would then take off her blouse and instructed him on how
she wanted him to kiss and suck her breasts. Finally, she would
slip off her skirt and panties leaving her clad only in a pair of
sneakers. She taught him how to eat her out, and kept him at it
for as long as she could stand it. Ken's reward came later when
she let him mount her. He had no trouble maintaining the rhythm
she wanted as she wrapped her legs around his body and used the
heels of her sneakers as spurs on his young butt to get him
going.

Ken enjoyed his activities with Mrs. Renford, but his real desire
rested with Karen. She had a real girlish enthusiasm for playing
games. Ken remarked that he found himself wishing he had the
nerve to ask other girls to play these games with him. Girls his
age would laugh at him (or so he thought), and the ***********s
he might talk into it could get him in trouble. He spent most of
the last 6 years dreaming about it, or locked in his room peeking
through the blinds at the girls skipping rope or playing other
games.

Making of a Mistress
Chapter 3
SUSAN AGAIN

Ken said that he was glad he caught Susan in an embarrassing
sexual situation. It confirmed her real orientation towards boys.
She was a "doer" rather than just a "looker". She wasn't
satisfied unless she could actually play with the real thing. He
commented that she needed a "safe" boy to play with. Susan didn't
need to be told that! She lamented that some girls were lucky,
they had younger brothers to experiment with. She had nobody. He
was quick to correct her. He said that she now had an older
"brother" to play with. He wanted to play with himself with Susan
watching since he started living in the house, but didn't know
how to bring up the subject. Now, he said, they had the perfect
arrangement.

Susan asked him when they could start, and he answered by
standing up and revealing his half erect cock sticking out of his
fly. Susan took him by the hand, and lead him downstairs where
she had him quickly erected to his full 7 inches. She made a
comment about how wise he was to take his penis out when he was
talking to her since there plainly wasn't enough room in his
pants for it. She suggested that he would probably be more
comfortable if he took them off.

Ken complied by getting completely undressed. This was a rare
treat for Susan since she usually didn't make her boys get
undressed due to the danger of having to do a quick coverup. At
most, she would have them pull down their pants and underwear,
although she usually worked through the boy's fly.

Susan enjoyed her close up view of Ken's body even more than
those she caught of him coming out of the shower. In addition to
a simply gorgeous cock, Ken's muscular frame accentuated his
maleness. His large chest tapered into a narrow waist pointing to
a triangle of pubic hair which nicely outlined his sexual organs.
>From the back, Susan noticed he had strong legs ending in very
cute buns.

Due to the late hour, and Susan's mother coming home from work,
they didn't have as much time to play as they desired. Susan
would have loved to have continued fingering him. She groped for
the words to ask him to do what she wanted to see most. Somehow
asking him, "Play with yourself," didn't seem to be the right
wording. Ken put her out of her embarrassment by asking her if
she wanted to see him "jerk off." She gulped a simple "yes," and
sat on the couch while Ken knelt in front of her and masturbated.

Susan felt so honored. She saw herself as a queen with her humble
slave kneeling before her offering her his greatest gift. Susan
watched as he approached orgasm. His already enlarged cock seemed
to grow even bigger and harder. It certainly got fatter and
redder. His breaths began to come in gasps, and his entire
essence seemed to be wrapped up in his one hand. She knew that
getting a boy to this point would make him extremely vulnerable,
and she wished she knew how to get that power. She had a tough
time deciding whether to watch the reaction on his face or what
was going on with his penis. Finally, with a groan, Ken let off
with numerous jets of creamy white come right at Susan's feet. It
was the most exciting moment of her young life.

She thought of Ken's masturbation, and the depositing his come at
her feet like a cat who brings his mistress a mouse as a present --
perversely pleasant, and the ultimate in flattery. As she sat
there looking at the pools of semen between her sneakers, Susan
knew that this was something every girl should see, and she
wanted more of it.

-=o=-

When Susan saw Ken (all of him) again on the following Monday,
she had a new proposal. She told him that since she was
satisfying his fantasy, he should consider satisfying hers. (As
if she weren't getting enough already). She told him that she had
an imaginary playmate, a younger sister, in fact. She would teach
her sister all the things a girl should know. (She didn't tell
Ken that she considered one of the jobs of a big sister is to
show her little sisters what boys looked like). She proposed that
if Ken would switch his role from big brother to little sister,
she would give his penis all the attention it deserved.

Ken agreed to this, and his training (or a Susan put it, his
"feminization program") began immediately. She decided to start
him off at the beginning. She treated him as her new-born baby
sister.

Getting some of the supplies she needed wasn't all that
difficult. A trip to the supermarket had her well stocked with
baby powder, baby oil, bottles, bibs, and just about everything
else she needed except diapers. Her mother had some old diapers
from when she was a baby, but they were way too small.

At first she used towels, but then decided to make her own
diapers on the sewing machine. The "pattern" was unbelievably
simple. She had a pink bonnet that fit well enough. (Homo sapiens
are born with disproportionately big heads, their bodies sort of
grow out under it as they mature). She also had a night shirt
left over from a couple of years ago on Ken, it made a nice
dressing gown.

After she diapered him, she fed him his bottle. Ken was always a
good milk drinker as any athelete should be. He sucked his bottle
(or "bot bot" as he later came to call it) hungrily. Ken actually
enjoyed the way she hugged him as she rubbed her hand on his back
and patted it to burp him.

As he usually did in the afternoon after he ate, Ken had some
very normal biological needs. Susan waited for him to wet and
dirty his diapers. Ken, of course, obliged.

The two of them would break out of role play enough for Ken to
walk to the bathroom for his cleanup and bath.

Susan gave him his bath, making sure that everything was clean.
Ken palyed his part well enough, splashing around, and getting
Susan wet. Finally, she had him lay down as she applied the baby
oil. She divided her time equally front and back gently working
one of her fingers into his anus as she rubbed the oil into his
cute buns. She wondered how much the average mom spent rubbing
oil on her son's penis. She was sure it wasn't the 15 or so
minutes she spent.

In the following weeks, Susan engaged Ken in all kinds of little
girl's games. He was taught how to play house, was the naked
guest of honor at a tea party, and soon learned the names of all
of Susan's dolls. Of course, Susan took time out often during the
play to have Ken jerk off for her. Susan had no problem
commanding him to do so after the first day.

One of the most memorable points during Ken's training was the
day she and Ken played "dress up". They found a large selection
of women's clothes in the garage, and it provided Susan with
hours of fun. She was thoroughly amused watching Ken struggling
into a girdle and bra. Most of the clothes simply weren't built
for his physique. There was quite a noticeable bulge in front.
Susan learned quickly that bikini panties were out of the
question. Even the large, full-sized panties could barely contain
Ken's erected cock. Short shorts were totally inadequate as were
mini skirts. No matter how he tried to adjust them, his penis
stuck out somewhere.

Susan did find one outfit for him that fit rather well. She would
have preferred extremely feminine underwear, but had to settle
for plain while nylon panties (she found a pair of extra large to
hold his penis), and panty hose. She selected a grey and red
plaid, calf length skirt (on Ken it was just below the knee), and
a silk blouse with plenty of lace. She did up the wig they found
into a hair style that went along with Ken's features nicely. She
gave up on trying to teach him how to use makeup, so she wound up
applying it herself. She was extremely satisfied with the
results. Ken looked very pretty. She was disappointed that she
couldn't find any shoes to fit him. It would have been a scream
to see him tottering around in high heels.

Susan decided that classic fashion was not what she wanted in a
look for Ken. If he were to be a ***********, then he should look
like one. The wig was redone in pig tails, the frilly blouse was
turned in for a plain light blue sleeveless one, and the skirt
replaced with a denim mini skirt matching the blouse. She added
some frilly tennis panties that did nothing to hide his sex
organs. They barely kept in his testicles, and helped keep his
penis standing straight up. They did accent his rear end nicely.
The skirt was so short that it merely d****d down either side of
his penis.

Susan later supplemented the outfit with pom-pom socklettes and
light blue sneakers bought from a large women's shop. It was
exactly what she wanted; quite sporty yet very feminine. It gave
her a good view of his ass and penis (she loved to watch the way
it bounced up and down when he danced for her or played hop
scotch or jumprope), and he didn't even have to drop a stitch for
her when he masturbated so they could keep that activity
spontaneous.

While he was wearing his female apparel, Ken was the perfect
***********. His every movement was in accordance with the sex he
was trying to portray. Even out of drag, in his regular clothes,
Susan noticed a subtle feminine gracefulness in his movements.
She was quite happy that he was starting to think like a girl.

- Making of a Mistress
Chapter 4
Susan Gains Control

Now that Susan had Ken looking and acting like a girl, she could
continue his training. She decided to teach him the "alphabet"
game. With minor changes, this game is played by ***********s
everywhere under a variety of names. The version Susan played was
played by bouncing a rubber ball under her leg while reciting; "A
my name is Alice, and my husband's name is Al. We come from
Alabama to sell you Apples. B my name is Barbara ...", all to the
cadence of the bouncing ball.

Susan thought this to be a particularly good game to teach Ken
since it was a perfect "***********'s game". Aside from the words
which are uniquely from a female's point of view, she had never
seen a boy play a game anything like it. Susan also thought it
would also get his penis bouncing along with the ball. In spite
of Ken's athletic abilities, it was obvious that he, at least,
had never played anything like it. He spent a good deal of time
amusing Susan by chasing the ball around the room.

It was while playing this game that Ken had a very fortunate
"accident" along the way. On one of his attempts, the ball
bounced up and hit his penis. This gave Susan an idea for a new
game. She had him stand with his back up against the support pole
in the room with his feet spread slightly apart and bounced her
ball off the floor in an attempt to have it gently nick the head
of his penis.

Susan had played the alphabet game enough as a *********** to be
able hit it almost every time. She called the game "P-ball"
(short for "Penis ball"), and was surprised that she didn't think
of this game sooner since it was only a bigger girl's version of
the game that Karen had played with him. It was so much fun for
Susan to be able to combine her toys.

Susan found the game to have many benefits. It was fun to play,
and she had a direct hand in doing something to Ken's penis. In
fact, Ken was totally passive (she later played a bondage version
of the game). She also enjoyed the control she had. She had taken
a boy's greatest and most valued possession, the very essence of
his maleness, his penis, and made it a girl's toy for a girl to
play with in a girl's game.

The game also had an interesting side effect -- the foreplay it
provided caused Ken to have very powerful ejaculations.

Although P-ball remained one of Susan's favorite games, she soon
found a better game to play using a rubber ball and a penis. She
discovered it about a week later as she was "fingering up" Ken
for a P-ball game.

Susan had the ball in her right hand, and as she was working the
head of his penis with her fingers, she accidentally rubbed the
ball against it. Ken's organ jerked at the touch of the rubber
sphere. Susan couldn't help but notice, and she tried a few more
tentative strokes with the ball alone to determine the reaction
she'd get.

Susan soon found herself rubbing the ball in various ways against
Ken's penis. She rapidly found a technique that got it responding
to her satisfaction. After another minute or two, Ken provided
Susan with a drop of his precome to work with. This extra
lubrication induced her to rub more vigorously. Before long, she
heard the familiar panting, and Ken exploded with an ejaculation
like she had never seen before.

Ken's jerk offs for her were mild by comparison. Ken experienced
an orgasm that was paralyzing. He nearly doubled over with cramps
and was so dizzy that he found it difficult to keep standing.
Susan felt like she had a runaway fire hose in her hands. The
ejaculate virtually erupted in violent spurts that she thought
would never stop. She had what seemed like gallons of his semen
all over the ball, her hand, her shorts, and her sneakers. She
knew that she would have to learn how to aim that thing.

In the following weeks, Susan worked to perfect her technique of
putting Ken "on the ball". Holding Ken's cock at the base with
her left hand, and making a loop with her thumb and middle
finger, she would squeeze the cock gently to trap some extra
blood, causing a firmer erection, and increasing the sensitivity
of the organ. She placed her index finger just behind the scrotum
so she could feel whenever he tensed his muscles in anticipation
of an orgasm. Taking the ball in her right hand, she moved it
back and forth lengthwise under the shaft of his cock gently
nipping the "cheeks" (the 5 and 7 o'clock positions of the head
as viewed from the front).

When she felt him tensing up, she concentrated on the shaft only,
while tightening her grip on the base of his cock and applying
gentle pressure with her index finger. This built up more
pressure in his penis yet kept him from ejaculating. The series
of actions produced very heavy hard-ons. Ken said that his penis
felt like it weighed ten pounds, and both he and Susan noticed
how hard it had gotten. The head would swell up. blood so filled
the organ that it was noticeably red, and every vein was
pulsating with the pressure.

At this point, Susan ceased all action for just a second, and
then gradually released the pressure of her left hand. Normally,
this procedure produced a drop of semen which she used to
lubricate the ball. First, she placed the ball up against the pee
hole, then gave it a few twists before making little circular
designs on the head with the ball. She then went back to work
underneath.

Susan alternately brought Ken to a point where he would almost
come and bring him back from the brink until she was ready to let
him ejaculate. When Susan was ready, she shifted rapidly from
"tease" gear to "high" gear doubling the speed of her rubbing and
slightly increasing the rubber to penis pressure. She increased
the pressure around the base of the penis, but eased up with her
index finger.

Her skill was so finely polished at "putting him on the ball",
that after the first couple of weeks, she could get Ken's penis
drooling at the very edge of orgasm in a matter of a minute, and
keep him there for as long as she wished. When she finally did
allow him to come, he let loose with such volume and force, that
she would see how far she could "shoot" him.

Susan found that she got her best shots when she had worked the
penis for at least 15 minutes, but usually not longer than 30.
(By this time, Ken was sweating, and out of his mind anyway).
Anything over 30 minutes, and she figured that she had "milked"
him too much.

Susan also discovered the differences in rubber balls. Her
primary toy was a ball with a "textured" rubber surface. Using
this type of ball she could get him going in a very short period
of time, and at the precise moment she desired, cause him to have
a very forceful ejaculation. It was excellent for shooting him
good distances.

The other type of ball available to her had a smooth rubber
surface. It took her longer to get him going on smooth rubber,
and she couldn't shoot him as far, but she found that she could
bring him closer to the edge of orgasm and keep him there longer.
This was so useful in teasing and bondage games.

Susan not only gained control over Ken's penis. She gained
control over Ken himself. If she ever had any doubts that a boy
was controlled by his penis they were over now. She was now
convinced that there was a direct connection between a boy's
prick and his brain. The more control a girl had over a boy's
cock, the greater control she had over the boy's mind.

Susan thought what a great toy a boy has between his legs. All a
girl has to do is get it to squirt white stuff, and he'll do
anything for her. And getting a boy to squirt was so easy! Boys
want it. Girls can do it. Boys love it when girls do it to them.
Why then, don't women rule the world?

Susan had gained the ultimate in control. She found that Ken
could no longer satisfy his own sexual needs without some sort of
help from her. Ken actually begged to have Susan "do it" to him.
He depended upon her attention to his penis for sexual
gratification as much as he depended upon air itself for life. He
was willing to do anything for her just to get the sexual release
that only she could provide for him. Susan was aware that she was
his sole source of sexual pleasure, and she loved being in that
position.

She used her new power to impose her will on him, and make sure
that her needs came first, and that he wouldn't get satisfaction
until she felt that he earned it. She was beginning to get high
on being a dominatrix. She remembered those earlier passages she
found in a book on female domination, and now she had the chance
to use them.

Her first interests were bondage and discipline. She found some
oversized rubber bands with hooks on them that are designed for
carrying books. Two of these were all it took to immobilize him
sufficiently for her to play with. She hooked one around his legs
just above the knees and the other around his arms behind his
back. Using these simple tools, she could pose him in almost any
position. She could have him free standing, kneeling, or "lashed"
to the support pole. he could even hobble around without
attaining full mobility.

She even kept his hands and legs bound for spankings. She just
loved the way his cock got hard between her legs as he lay across
her lap. (Even though she really couldn't bring herself to do
real damage to those cute buns). Usually, these spankings were
administered for Ken's non-perfect performance in acting out some
fantasy she described to him.

The one time she really did give Ken a good spanking was when she
caught him trying to masturbate without her permission. Both she
and Ken were fully aware that Ken could barely get it up, much
less get it off by simply jerking off unless she was watching. So
it came as little surprise when she caught him with one of her
rubber balls. As additional punishment, she decided to make him
try to complete the act all by himself as she watched him.

In spite of her close supervision and instruction, (mostly in the
form of jeering remarks about "the ********** playing with his
'pee pee'"), the effort was a failure. Ken simply didn't have the
discipline to masturbate himself as well as Susan did. He rushed
himself to ejaculation. There was relatively little come, he did
not squirt it very far, and he felt very embarrassed and
unsatisfied doing it.

Susan gave him a stern lecture about how males didn't have the
self control necessary for satisfying sex. She got Ken to admit
that girls knew what was good for boys better than boys
themselves. Her point was that sex would be better for a boy only
if he put total control of his sexual activities under the
direction of a female. Susan made him promise her that he
wouldn't attempt to masturbate without her consent again.


Making of a Mistress
Chapter 5
A Girl and her Toys

Susan didn't know about the male fascination with fetish objects
when she started experimenting with rubber balls on Ken's penis.
What she did notice was that there was something special in the
way this particular rubber object affected Ken, and this lead her
to try other objects made of rubber on his cock. Fortunately
rubber items are common, relatively inexpensive, and easy to hide
(some of them were small, but most of them were everyday items,
and she could store them "in the open" in her room with no
questions asked). Best of all, they were either disposable, or
cleaned up easily. She tried rubbers (both the kind designed for
the penis, and the foot), dolls, raincoats, boots, rubber gloves
(disappointing), and even bicycle inner tubes. All of them worked
to some degree, but what Susan found worked best were her bathing
caps and sneakers.

Susan never thought much of bathing caps. They looked ugly,
smelled funny, and since the invention of the hair drier, were
obsolete. She rarely saw any women using them at the beach or
pool and, she wondered, with such a limited market, why anyone
even made them anymore. Yet once she found out what marvelous sex
toys they made, and she needed to buy them, she found out that
people did make them, stores did stock them, and the stock levels
did get depleted. She noticed that the sales were too high to be
supported by the limited market of women she saw wearing them,
and she wondered if many bathing caps were bought by women and
men for more private use.

The obvious thing to do with a bathing cap, (if you're a girl
playing with a penis), is to place the cap over the penis, and
rub it. Although Susan expected this to be a boring procedure
(from her point of view), she was pleasantly surprised by how
well she could feel Ken's penis through the rubber. Stretching it
over his hard cock or feeling it "nub" against the dry rubber was
a lot of fun for Susan. However, she really loved the way it slid
around in the cap once he started to lubricate. Best of all,
masturbating Ken like this gave her the total sensation and none
of the mess when he ejaculated. She could easily feel every
contraction and squirt.

Susan liked masturbating Ken this way because she had good
control over his penis, it was neat, and she could easily measure
how much Ken put out. Ken liked it because his penis was totally
surrounded by rubber, his cock was kept well lubricated by his
trapped semen and his mess was easier to clean up.

Being able to measure Ken's semen output was important to Susan.
It was one way she could check if Ken were cheating on her by
masturbating on his own without her permission.

The layout of the basement apartment was such that the closets to
her room and Ken's room were back-to-back. In fact, they were
built on either side of a door originally connecting the rooms.
The door was still there in the back of each of the closets, but
latched shut with the door knob missing. The hole where the
doorknob used to be was exactly at the height of Ken's penis.

On Saturday and Sunday nights, Susan required that Ken put a
bathing cap over his penis, stand at attention in the closet with
his face up against the door, stick his member through the hole,
and patiently wait for her. She sternly warned him that he better
be on time and ready at any time she wanted to play with him. She
usually got to him within a half hour of the time she told him to
report, but sometimes she would make him stand there for over an
hour waiting for her to come to him. He was usually well
lubricated by the time she got to him, so she could quickly
masturbate him and measure the amount of semen he produced. She
knew exactly how much come his average ejaculation produced.

If Ken failed to meet his production quota, Susan had the
appropriate punishment ready the next weekday. She would take the
caps Ken did fill over the weekend, plus whatever she could get
out of him on the spot, and make him clean them out by licking up
his own juices.

Susan found the very plain bathing caps worked well for direct
finger masturbation. In fact, the latex type like those worn by
the girls' swimming team gave her an excellent feel for Ken's
penis. She usually reserved the "heavy duty" rubber caps for
Ken's weekend duty (due to his limited mobility, and the limited
amount of his penis exposed, she couldn't really feel him as well
with her fingers anyway, and the extra texture of the rubber on
the interior of the cap helped her masturbate him). Besides, it
would keep Ken from feeling exactly what she was doing. Susan
would sometimes treat herself by removing her panties and rubbing
her crotch against the cap as it stretched over Ken's penis. By
standing on a couple of books, she could manage to match her
height with Ken's and make contact with her clitoris. Ken never
had an idea of what was going on.

Susan found that fancy and frilly caps were not as good as
simpler ones for finger masturbation because there was to too
much rubber in the way. She used these bathing caps as erection
holders. She would turn the caps inside out, and place them over
his cock and balls holding the cap in place with a rubber band
"chain" around Ken's waist and attached to the cap at the chin
strap points. His penis nestled in the flowers and leaves of the
cap, and whenever he got excited, his penis twitched, causing it
to be licked and massaged in the rubbery flaps. This excited him
even more, and started a stimulus-response chain reaction. There
was never sufficient enough stimulation to make him come, but the
process did keep him tickled into a constant state of arousal.
Even after a long time "in the bag", he had a beautifully red,
rock-solid hard-on for her to play with.

Susan considered giving Ken an erection and having him hold it as
an important part of his training. Not only did she want to
control his orgasms, she wanted to control every step of the
process leading up to them. Prior to Ken's training with Susan,
he did not have control over his penis. Erections would come and
go randomly. When he got an erection, he would tend to play with
it until he ejaculated. By training him with her rubber ball and
bathing cap, Susan taught him how to have an erection any time at
her command. In the very initial phases of training, Susan's
stimulation of Ken's organ was all physical. Step by step, she
would interrupt the procedure at strategic stages until she
didn't have to touch his penis at all for him to attain a hard-on
to her satisfaction.

After each training session, she sent Ken to his room with
specific instructions on how to practice. She could tell from his
lack of performance if he didn't practice enough, and from his
lack of semen if he got carried away and jerked off. Ken stated
that he really appreciated her coaching him. It was a lot easier
for him to get an erection in her presence, and he was aware of
the constant threat of discipline should he even think of
satisfying his urges without her permission.

With the proper concentration on his penis, Ken could bring it
from a totally "rested" state to a full hard-on in about 30
seconds. Using the male equivalent technique of a Kegel exercise
which he learned from Susan, he could "bounce" his penis up and
down and make the head pulsate by contracting the muscles at the
base of his scrotum. After several minutes of this exercise, his
penis would be excited enough to produce a drop of precome.

Ken was expected to continue this procedure for as long as Susan
demanded. In some cases, she had his penis drooling a nearly
steady stream of precome until she gave the "stop" signal. At
this point, Ken was still expected to maintain a hard-on, but was
allowed to give his cramped muscles a break.

"Stiffening up" was expected of Ken prior to any activity with
Susan. She said that it was his responsibility to have a hard-on
for her when she was ready to play with him, and that she
shouldn't have to work to give him one. She carefully explained
that if she were going to work out his penis, then he should make
sure he did the proper "warm up" exercises. Once Ken was
"primed", he was ready to do (or have done to him) anything she
desired.

The purpose of the stiffen up exercises was to teach Ken
discipline. Having an erection did not mean that he got to
ejaculate. Bringing himself to a point of self arousal under
Susan's supervision was difficult. Without her intervention, he
wouldn't have be able to resist masturbating long before he was
ready to ejaculate properly. To further enforce his training,
Susan would occasionally intervene using the rubber ball to bring
him beyond the sexual arousal caused by stiffening up to the very
threshold of orgasm before bringing him back.

One of the things a dominant girl has to teach a boy is to make
him masturbate to the pre-come level. How to make him do so
without cheating was difficult. Certainly, the girl can't depend
upon the boy's own judgment.

Susan found the answer in her bathing cap. She made Ken place the
cap over his penis and gently massage himself. Once he got his
first drop of precome, he was expected to spread it over the
inside of the cap using his penis. She demanded that he keep
doing it until he totally coated the inside of the cap with his
precome without ejaculating.

>From Ken's point of view, he had to slow masturbate himself over
and over again so he could become excited enough to produce
enough precome to meet Susan's demand, yet he had to hold back
just enough on each occasion to keep from ejaculating. He knew
that he had to learn how to discipline his own erections.

Susan could demand that Ken stiffen up at any time, and she did.
She didn't limit her control only to their private play sessions.
She invented a subtle "stiffen up" signal that she could issue
which Ken was required to recognize and obey whenever he saw it,
even in public. It was a totally safe way for her to order him
around when a verbal command from her would be embarrassing for
her. The embarrassment was all Ken's as he had to produce the
bulge in his pants.

She usually did this when Ken was with her on a trip to the mall
to spend his money on clothes for her. She'd generally arrange
the time so she would run into her girlfriends there. Ken stood
silently by as she would talk with her friends while totally
ignoring him, except for the secret signal. She, herself, would
never say anything about Ken's condition, but the giggling,
whispered conversation among her girlfriends as soon as the
meeting broke up left no doubt that the girls had noticed. As
often as not, Ken stained the front of his pants. To make sure
this was noticeable, Susan made sure he wore tight, light colored
pants whenever she did this.

Repeated practice of this basic discipline exercise further
impressed the role Ken was to serve. Susan was Ken's superior,
and his penis a toy with which she could play. His erections were
for her pleasure, and his ejaculations given only at her command
when she thought he deserved them.



Making of a Mistress
Chapter 6
A Girl's Best Friend.

However, when it came to masturbating Ken, Susan soon found that
her sneakers were her most versatile toys.

Sneakers are sort of a fashion statement for girls. On one end of
the spectrum, there are the the "big" brand names like Nike,
Rebook, or Adidas. On the other end are simple Keds-style tennis
shoes. There's something about the simple canvas oxford that, no
matter what kind of other athletic footwear a girl has, she
always has at least several pairs of them. It seems like just
every generation of girls grew up in them. There's something
special about them. Susan noticed that every female in her family
from her todler cousins to her grandmother wore them!

Susan soon discovered that not just the rubber, but every part of
the sneaker was significant to the masturbation effort. The
overall shape was suggestive (she found Ken to respond to pointed
toes better than rounded toes). She found the outsole (that's the
strip of rubber holding the uppers to the soles) to be useful in
teasing games. Of particular use was the part of the outsole that
was normally between her legs as she was wearing the sneakers.
Even the color played a role. (Ken seemed partial to light blue --
the color sneakers she had made him wear, and pink -- the
color she usually wore). However, Ken had no problem splattering
her well autographed and decorated plain white Keds with his
come.

The most important part of the sneaker, of course, was the sole,
particularly the "working rubber" (the part that corresponds to
the ball of the girl's foot). This, ultimately, was where all
masturbation took place. Although Susan's first masturbation
sneakers were Keds, it didn't take her long to discover the great
variety awaiting her in shoe stores. She noticed that each
manufacturer had its own special features. Some of them sported a
low-relief "crepe" rubber sole, some had molded rubber soles,
while others still were "hand wrapped." The rubber itself was
either "gummy," or smooth, or "silky," or textured. There were so
many combinations to choose from!

She also discovered that Ken often responded differently to the
same sneakers each time she used them. As she wore her sneakers,
Susan would expose fresh rubber, and slightly change the contours
of the sole design. Ken told to her that sneakers whose soles
were scuffed on concrete caused different sensations in his penis
than sneakers she wore to dance on a wood floor, or sneakers
scrubbed clean by her wearing them while walking on the sand on
the beach. All of these factors made sneakering an unpredictable
affair which both Susan and Ken found to be very exciting.

The very first method of sneakering was called by Susan, "the
lazy girl" method. It evolved from her "humping" experiments on
other rubber objects with Ken. Ken would lay on his stomach with
his penis off to one side. One pair of sneakers was placed, soles
up parallel to his body. These were the "spacers" used to hold a
third sneaker in the proper position for the working rubber to be
in contact with his organ. Ken held another sneaker between his
leg with the sole against his penis. This sneaker provided some
elevation so Susan could see what was going on. Ken then simply
humped himself while viewing the scrapbook.

The scrapbook was a book of Polaroid shots Susan had taken of Ken
in his various outfits, in all kinds of masturbational poses. The
acquisition of a self timer allowed Susan to get into the picture
and provide a pictorial "how to" masturbate a boy. Her only
regret was that she could never time it just right to get him in
the act of actually ejaculating. (The only pictures she had of
this was some she staged where he jerked off for the camera). The
lazy girl method worked, but both Susan and Ken enjoyed it when
she had more control over his orgasm.

Susan knew she needed a "hand held" method of getting Ken off
with her sneakers. Although she wasn't immediately successful,
she did discover a means of getting him erected which she called
"tickling him up". She took her sneakers and held them
sole-to-sole with the inner outsole up, the toes pointed towards
Ken, and the heels towards herself. She then put the heels under
the head of his penis and slowly pulled the sneakers towards
herself allowing Ken's cock to bump and rub its way along the
designs in the outsole. With only several strokes of her
sneakers, she could excite him into a perfect hard-on for her to
play with.

This teasing method soon led Susan to discover what she really
wanted: how to masturbate Ken directly with her sneakers. Susan
found that if she held her sneakers as if she were tickling him
up, but separated her thumbs as if she were opening a book, his
penis would fall into the slot formed by the soles of the
sneakers. She then moved the sneakers back and forth in a girl to
boy motion keeping the head of his cock in contact with the
working rubber. She soon discovered she could vary the pressure
by how much she opened her "sneaker book", and by how she tilted
the sneakers into his body. Using these techniques, Susan was
able to provide a light, tickling "push" and a strong, rubbing
"pull" on his penis with the rubber.

Susan found this to be a particularly entertaining way to
ejaculate Ken since his penis was in complete view, yet under her
control. Watching him come this way was like watching a penis
come on its own. She often took Ken on trips to the Mall and
spent his money on sneakers. Within several months of discovering
how to have fun with sneakers, she had sneakers of almost every
style and color from every shoe store to go with every outfit she
could possibly put together. More importantly, she had a variety
of rubbers to keep Ken pumping vigorously.

Susan found that having a number of sneakers was another way for
her to enforce erection control in Ken. In addition to causing
one by tickling up, she could require him to rub his penis with
the soles of her sneakers.

Susan knew that it would take many minutes of intense stimulation
with the rubber parts for Ken to get excited enough to produce
enough precome to cover the whole sole. She knew that if she
wanted him to be in the precome state of anticipation for a full
half an hour, all she had to do was have Ken coat several pairs
of her sneaker soles with his precome. On several special
occasions, she had him do her entire collection!

If that weren't enough, she would also use her mom's sneakers
when she could get them. Ken liked doing it on "auntie's
sneakers" since she wore them mostly around the house, and they
had a special texture to them.

Both Susan and Ken found sneakers to be an integral part of their
sex activities. Susan couldn't put on a pair without thinking of
masturbating Ken, and she always wore a pair when she was around
him. Ken, for his part, found it difficult not to get an erection
when seeing nearly any girl wearing a pair of sneakers.


-=o=-

Making of a Mistress
Chapter 7
Judy

Having a cock as nice as Ken's to play with was a dream any
twelve-year-old girl would consider mere fantasy. Yet Susan knew
that this news was too good to keep to herself. She yearned to
share the fun with other members of her sex. Every time she saw a
girl playing with a rubber ball, or wearing sneakers she wanted
to tell her how much power she had at her hands and feet! Susan
knew, however, that only a special kind of girl could really
appreciate this power. She wanted to find a girl who had more
than mere curiosity. She knew that almost every girl knew what
boys looked like, and most have at least handled a cock.

What she really wanted to find was a girl with the same
dominatrix tendencies she had. She needed a girl who felt
superior to her male counterparts, and could get a thrill from
humiliating a boy. However, she didn't know which girls these
were. When she was six to ***************, she might have been
more daring. Girls at that age seem to have the advantage.
Somehow, as they approach the teen years, they lose it and become
more fawning and less threatening to the boys. Even among her
closest friends, this was not a topic for casual conversation.
She found her answer on her first day of Junior High.

Susan was surprised to meet Judy in her Biology Class. Judy had
just moved back into the neighborhood from out of state, and the
two girls had a lot of catching up to do. They quickly dispensed
with the "girl talk", and got down to discussing their respective
conquests with boys. Judy, as usual took the lead, and whenever
they were able to talk privately, told Susan of her experiences.

Judy had spent the summer at her uncle's farm. There she had
caught her eleven-year-old cousin, Paul, drinking. She knew her
uncle didn't believe in drinking at all, and she used this
discovery to blackmail him into showing her his penis. She also
made him accompany her across the field where she had him boost
her up a tree and used his binoculars to watch some boys skinny
dipping in another field.

Her greatest conquest, however, was in the last town where she
lived. She was aided in this victory by her baby sitter, Jill.
The arrangement was that Jill would watch her and the neighbor
c***dren, Jeremy and Christine, at the neighbor's house. This was
the setup for the three years she lived there. The first year was
normal. It was in the beginning of the second year when Judy was
ten, Christine was eight, Jeremy was eleven, and Jill was 17 that
penis play became really big in her life again.

It was a night as normal as any other Friday night, and the girls
were watching TV downstairs. Neither of the girls paid any
attention to the fact that Jill and Jeremy were missing until
Jill called for them to come upstairs to the bathroom.

When they got there, the girls found a partially clad Jeremy with
a girlie magazine. Jill said that she found Jeremy playing with
himself while looking at the magazine. She then made some
mysterious remark about men being dominated by their own bodies;
"Like father like son". From this, and other remarks, Judy
gathered that there was something going on between Jill, and
Jeremy's father.

However, the immediate problem (or pleasure) was Jeremy. Jill
asked the two younger girls for suggestions on how they could
take advantage of this situation, although she already knew how
she wished to disciple Jeremy. Christine said that her father had
caught Jeremy doing something like this before, and gave him a
good spanking. Jeremy confirmed this as he was almost in tears
pleading with Jill not to tell his father.

It was obvious that Jeremy's case was desperate. When Jill asked
the two younger girls how she should punish Jeremy, they wasted
no time coming up with suggestions. Judy, playing dumb, asked
Jill what she meant when she said Jeremy was 'playing with
himself'. Jill made Jeremy give a detailed verbal description of
his acts to Judy and his sister.

Jeremy said he'd be willing to do whatever the girls asked him to
do as long as they didn't tell his father what they caught him
doing. He promised never to play with himself again. Jill
suggested exactly the opposite. If he liked playing with himself,
then he'd be forced to do so. Since he liked to look at women
while he jerked off, she would grant his wish. Only this time,
the women would remain clothed while he would be the one naked.
It took some time for Jill and Judy to convince Christine to go
along with the idea, but she finally gave in.

Jill made Jeremy get undressed and as he was doing so, Jill asked
the girls if they had ever seen a boy in the nude before. Judy
answered a simple yes trying to hide her excitement. Christine
said that she and her brother had taken baths together until
several years ago, but she was surprised how big he had gotten.

Jill had Jeremy stand in front of them, and ordered him to jerk
off. One more "I'll tell your dad" from her was all the
intimidation he needed. He fumbled with his penis, and somehow
reached climax. He was still so young that he could barely
produce any come and this plainly disappointed Jill who then went
on to explain to the other girls about the male ejaculation.

After Jeremy performed his penis pumping act for his female
audience, Jill took him into the master bedroom for some "private
punishment" Judy couldn't resist peeking under the door. What she
saw was Jill's skirt and panties d****d down around her sneakers.
Jill's legs were set apart, and the naked Jeremy apparently
kneeling in front of her. Jill was obviously sitting on the bed
with Jeremy's head in her lap (lapping it up Judy supposed).
Every now and then, Jill would hit Jeremy with a belt across his
back or buttocks.

>From then on, Jill made sure that the girls remained in charge of
Jeremy and his cock. She told Jeremy that if he gave her or the
two younger girls the slightest problem, she would tell his
father about catching him playing with himself. She also laid
down the ground rules. Every Friday, Jeremy was to take off all
his clothes as soon as his parents left, and keep them off until
bedtime. Furthermore, he was ordered to show his penis to
Christine and Judy and any other girl they invited whenever they
asked. It took a while for Christine to take advantage of this
situation on other than Friday night, but after a while, with
some urging from Judy, she got to like the idea of female
domination and being "on top" of her older brother.

Eventually, the two girls brought another ten-year-old, Patricia,
into the group several months later. Patricia was able to offer
her seven-year-old brother, Jimmy, as another playmate. Patricia
was a product of a broken family and an alcoholic mother.
Patricia practically raised her brother on her own. Patricia saw
the abuse her mother took from her the men who would come and
visit. She, herself, was m*****ed by some of these men. Somewhat
out of defense, she started dressing Jimmy in her clothes hoping
to divert some of the attention away from her. After a while, it
just became something to do.

She was determined not to let Jimmy grow up like the men who
abused her mother and her. Her mother had no interest in raising
either of them, so Patricia was forced to take over the total
care of her brother for as long as she could remember. While
other ***********s were diapering dolls, she was diapering the
"real thing". Although she loved her brother, she also resented
him because of the responsibilities and demands he placed on her.
Her only control in life was to dominate him since he was a baby.
She wanted revenge against some male because of her abuse, and
she wanted Jimmy to respect females.

The result was that Jimmy not only respected, but actually feared
girls and held them in awe. Patricia frequently played with her
brother, and shared him with her girlfriends. Jimmy was convinced
that he existed only to serve females, and that his penis was a
plaything for them, To Jimmy, girls dominating over boys was the
natural order of things.

The three girls played with Jimmy's and Jeremy's private parts
almost daily. Not only were they interested in girl touching boy
type play, but they also enjoyed watching the boys touch each
other. Recalling Jill's instructions, they made sure that Jeremy
jerked off for them frequently, his semen came in rapidly over
the following months. Judy still corresponded with Christine
about her adventures with her brother. Christine and Patricia had
now "graduated" to using their brothers to bring other boys
around to showing them their penises and letting them play with
them.

Susan didn't get to tell Judy about Ken. The clearest message she
could arrange was to have Judy come over the next afternoon and
stay for dinner. She did manage to add that Judy should wear her
sneakers.

-=o=-

It was fortunate for the girls that the Junior High School had
half day sessions for the first week. This give them ample time
to prepare for Ken before he came home from school. Susan gave
Judy as much detail as she could during the short walk from the
bus stop to her house. Judy was excited, but she contained it
well until they got to Susan's room. Susan went into her closet
and started to pull out numerous pairs of sneakers from a box.
Judy asked if Susan really wore all those sneakers. Susan simply
replied that she did as she reached the object she was seeking --
the scrapbook.

Judy pored over the pages with ever widening eyes as she took in
the pictures of Ken's beautiful organ, and Susan's manipulations
of it. She became agitated, and attempted to masturbate herself
surreptitiously by rubbing her thighs together. Susan caught onto
this immediately, and she pulled her own panties off and stick
her fingers up her skirt. She told Judy that she couldn't get
through the book herself without doing this.

Judy told her to wait, and she reached into her purse and pulled
out an object she "liberated" from her older sister. Susan knew
immediately what it was and complied with Judy's request to lie
down on the bed. Judy used the vibrating dildo with great skill
(she admitted to having a lot of practice) and soon had Susan
well into the first of many orgasms. Susan was in such a swoon
that she was only dimly aware of Judy removing her blouse and
skirt. Once Judy started to nibble on her young firm breasts,
Susan went into complete ecstasy. When Susan came around again,
she saw that Judy had also stripped down to a mere pair of
sneakers. She reached up and drew Judy to her, and they embraced
with a passionate kiss. Susan got hold of the dildo, and returned
the favor. By the time they were done, they barely had enough
time to get dressed, and prepare for Ken.

-
-=o=-

Making of a Mistress
Chapter 8
Two Girls and a Boy

Susan had Judy hide in the bathroom. As soon as Ken got in the
door, she ordered him to get into his outfit, bring the rubber
sex toys into the playroom, and stand there while she blindfolded
and bound him. Susan explained that they were going to play a
version of "blind man's bluff". She then turned on the radio
which gave Judy her clue that it was safe to come out. It was a
good thing since the music hid any small noise Judy might have
made. As it was, Judy had to bite her lip to keep from giggling
as she saw Ken standing there with his stiff prick sticking out
from under his skirt.

The game started easily enough as Ken could home in on Susan's
voice as she held her sneakers out for him to dock his "love
boat" on the rubber soles. To add a little more spice to the
game, Susan gave his cock a few strokes with the sneakers to see
if he could identify which pair she was using by the feel of the
rubber soles against his penis. She was surprised by how well Ken
could distinguish between them. Not only could he tell the
difference between brand names, but he could identify specific
sneakers.

To make the game more challenging, Susan arranged the next set of
toys to have Ken on his knees pushing his cock into bathing caps
on chairs and finally crawling in the floor poking at rubber
balls.

After Ken had touched his cock to every rubber object in Susan's
collection, he was thoroughly aroused and dripping semen almost
steadily. Susan figured he was ready to be introduced to Judy.
She once again allowed him to track in on her voice as she gave
her commands over Judy's shoulder. Judy took his member in her
hand and gave it a few rubs with a ball just as Susan got behind
him and removed the blindfold. There he stood face to face, and
penis to rubber with a strange, but attractive twelve-year-old
girl.

Susan had him greet "Miss Judy" with a tongue lashing. He was
required to debase himself by licking her legs from the thighs
down. As he worked his way down, Susan suggested that Judy remove
her sneakers. She said that she'd have better uses for them
later. As Ken licked his way towards her feet, Susan noticed that
Judy became tense. Once his tongue reached her feet, Judy asked
Susan if Ken could be blindfolded again, and Susan told her to go
for it. Susan explained, that in her house, girls were supreme,
and any order given to a boy had best be carried out swiftly. Ken
was hers, and she could order him to do anything.

Once the blindfold was in place, Judy sat in a chair with her
feet on a stool with Ken kneeling before them. Judy slipped off
her panties and started to masturbate as Ken administered oral
foot care. She instructed him in the fine art of licking a
female's feet.

She made him do each one of what she considered the "basic
functions" over and over again. There was the circular tongue
movements around her ankle, the gentle side to side flick along
her arch, running the back of his tongue down her instep, and
most importantly, how to suck and nibble on her toes while
running his tongue between them. She was going into orbit, and
Ken was getting one of the biggest and hardest erections of his
life. Susan couldn't let such a beautiful hard-on go to waste, so
she put him in the bag.

Time was running out on the girls, so after Judy had several
satisfying orgasms, Susan regrettably had to stop the affair.
Although she really enjoyed watching Judy getting it on she
wanted to see her "do" Ken. She quickly demonstrated to Judy how
to use the rubber balls, bathing caps and sneakers and asked Judy
to shoot him off. Judy selected her own sneakers as her weapon
and went to work immediately. She learned quickly. Her technique
was slightly different than Susan's but equally effective, and
she soon had Ken's creamy white come on the working rubber of her
sneakers.

Judy was a "natural" in the way she ordered Ken around. Susan
never got to see female domination "from the outside", and she
really got a kick out of watching another girl give her boy the
treatment. Susan knew she had gotten the right girl for the job
as Judy ordered Ken to remove his ejaculate from her sneakers by
licking them clean. She told him to suck at the rubber and use
his tongue and teeth to gently sc**** it clean. Both girls
considered domination of a male a social thing for girls to do,
and fed off each other's enthusiasm.


-=o=-

Making of a Mistress
Chapter 9
Four Girls and a Boy

Things went well between Judy and Susan. They each enjoyed
playing with Ken's penis, and shared him nicely. Susan was
finally able to get the pictures she wanted of Ken coming on a
rubber ball or on a pair of her sneakers. One girl would work the
camera, the other girl worked the penis.

Each girl enjoyed watching as well as doing. Making Ken ejaculate
was a spectator sport for the girls as well as a participatory
sport. Because of this, the girls figured that there was more
than enough of Ken's penis to go around. They decided that they
could take other girls into the group.

Their attempt to do so was based upon putting an "ad" in the
girls' bathroom at school. The ad stated that any girl interested
in playing with a boy's private parts should meet at the flagpole
in the playground at a specified time and wear a specific set of
clothing so she could be identified.

On the appointed day at the appointed time, Judy went to the flag
pole dressed as a respondent to the ad. The only other respondent
was Helen, the girl every other girl in school envied. Helen was
intelligent, good looking, popular, talented, good at sports,
etc. She had it all.

Judy was a little leery to talk to her at first, but eventually
worked up the courage to ask her if she was there in response to
the ad. Helen, for her part, was also cautious, but the two girls
eventually agreed that they were there for the same purpose. As
Susan and Judy planned, nothing happened that day. The following
day, Helen got a message in her locker indicating that she was
seen at the proper place, and where she should go to meet the
girl who had the boy to play with.

Once Susan and Judy were sure that Helen was not a plant from the
school authorities, they took her into their complete confidence.
Helen, did indeed, meet all their requirements. She gave good
proof that she had experience playing with penises, and had the
right attitude towards boys.

This attitude was based on the way she was treated at school. She
said that she would have done a lot better if she were a boy. She
claimed that most of the emphasis went in to boy's programs at
school while the lesser activities and lesser funding were left
to the girls. She swore that she was "done out of" an honors
science course simply because she was a girl. As a member of the
girls swim team and tennis team, she had to pay for all of her
equipment and transportation to most of the matches, while the
boys basketball and football teams were school funded and got
much better coverage in the school paper even though they
finished in lower positions in their respective leagues Even the
cheerleaders for the boys teams got better "press" than the girls
teams themselves. Having some "dumb jock" tell her "that's the
way it is, sweetie" didn't help. She wanted to get even, and she
envied Judy's and Susan's opportunity to do so.

On the following Monday, Susan made Ken take her and Judy to the
pizza shop, where they "accidentally" ran into Helen. Susan made
Ken stand by her side facing Helen as the girls sat down and then
gave him the "stiffen up" signal. Ken was beginning to get used
to having hard-ons for Susan in front of her girlfriends. This
time, however, his erection was not ignored in the conversation.
Almost immediately, Helen remarked that it looked quite
impressive even though he was still dressed. This was invitation
enough for the girls to start talking openly about it. The
waitress came by, overhead a little of the conversation, took a
quick glance down at Ken's crotch, smiled, gave the girls a wink
and a "thumbs up" and walked on to the kitchen door where she had
a conversation with two other waitresses, pointing over towards
the girls and Ken.

During the next hour, the three waitresses seemed to find excuses
to drift by. Although none of the tables immediately next to the
girls had been used, they got wiped clean several times. Chairs
got re-adjusted. Salt shakers got filled, removed, empty ones
brought in and re-filled. Their own waitress came by several
times with water. On each of these occasions, the waitress would
stop and listen in on the conversation and witness Ken's
embarrassment.

Finally, the girls decided to leave. After making Ken pay the
bill they got up, and walked towards the door. Their waitress
followed them and gave Susan back the tip saying, "Keep it honey,
with what I see guys trying to do to us girls in here all the
time, it was worth it. If I had a penny for every time some guy
would try to hit on me, it would make a far better tip than you
could ever give me. It's nice the see us girls win one every now
and then to even the score just a little. Come back again". "Make
sure you bring your friend. The girls and I found him amusing",
she added, looking down at Ken's crotch one more time.

"Then maybe you'd like this instead of a tip", said Susan as she
fished into her purse and presented a picture to the waitress. It
showed Ken dressed in his ***********'s outfit caught in mid-
ejaculation as Susan pumped his penis with her sneakers. The
waitress reddened, but instinctively looked down at her own
sneakers, and smiled impishly. She asked Susan what she was doing
to make Ken come this way and Susan gave her a brief description.

The waitress said that she could use that technique on her horny
boyfriend. Susan told her, that she could do a lot of things to
her boyfriend that will make him beg for her attention. As they
left, they could see the three waitresses huddled together in the
corner looking at the picture.

The girls adjourned to Susan's house where Helen immediately put
her skills to work, improving on the masturbation / discipline /
training techniques developed by Susan and Judy. In fact, the two
other girls had to restrain her enthusiasm.

-=o=-

The problem with Helen, is that she was frequently left in charge
of her nine-year-old sister, Julia. This meant that Helen
couldn't always participate, or that Susan or Judy would have to
entertain Julia while the other girls were involved with Ken.
This situation was unsatisfactory, so the three older girls
elected to bring Julia into the group.

They weren't sure how a young girl like Julia would react to
joining such a group. Helen advised caution and developed a plan
to bring her sister in gradually. Helen already suspected that
her sister had experience with boys before, and this was
confirmed during the first week of Julia's "initiation".

The girls gave Ken the week off (with plenty of bathing caps to
fill at the doorknob at night), as they worked with Julia. They
started off innocuously enough with "girl talk", and Julia was
delighted to be included in the conversation with older girls.
Eventually, the talk was guided around to boys, and the girl's
earlier experiences with penis play. The older females,
naturally, downplayed their experience. Julia readily admitted
that she had a playmate who frequently showed her his penis.

>From there, the girls had a contest to see who could draw the
best penis. The pretext was so they could confirm what they all
saw. Susan and Judy drew sketches which got the point across well
enough, while Helen's artistic talent allowed her to produce a
drawing suitable for an illustration in a medical textbook. To
the delight of the three older girls, Julia drew her penis in an
erected condition.

Helen's artistic talents were legendary. She won several awards
in school, but she actually did her best work on canvas that
wasn't in a frame. Helen supplemented her income by decorating
the sneakers of her girlfriends. They would bring her a new pair
of white sneakers, and Helen would paint on a custom design.
Usually she specialized in floral designs with the girl's name
worked in, or in women's faces with flowing hair.

Helen did a special job for Susan. She decorated a pair of her
sneakers with a flesh colored penis portraits. On the top of the
sneakers, she painter a top view of the penis and "played" the
curvature of the sneaker to get a 3-D effect. On the side panels
she painted right and left views of the organ ending up with a
rear view of the testicles at the heel.

Helen also painted c***dren's faces at parties and school fairs,
so she was also familiar with painting skin. On occasions she
would decorate Ken's penis. She usually used one of her floral
designs and painted the leaves stems and vines along the shaft,
while placing a flower at the head. There was a special challenge
painting the head. As the paint brush licked the ridges, Ken's
penis would twitch and pulsate. She had never worked on such a
difficult surface.

Sometimes, she would paint for a humorous or cute effect. Her
flowers often had patterns suggestive of a face, and she made use
of the natural contours of the penis and the pee hole to complete
the design.

Not all of her designs were flowers. She did a red, white and
blue balloon design with "Happy Birthday Susan" in honor of the
occasion. As with her sneaker designs, she often worked the
girl's name into her design. Normally she used paint that washed
off, but on a few occasions, she would use ink that took several
days to fade. Ken had to be careful in the locker room so he
wouldn't have to explain why he had a girl's name painted on his
prick.

Eventually, the girls demonstrated all of this to Julia, but
right now, they were interested in getting her set up in the
club.

Once it was confirmed that Julia had seen a penis and was
comfortable about it, the older girls admitted to her that they
had set her up. She was asked if she would like to see a picture
of a real penis. Since she had no objection, the girls produced
some pictures of Ken taken especially for the occasion. In spite
of the hundreds of pictures in the scrapbook, Susan had none of
Ken where he wasn't masturbating, being masturbated, crossed
dressed or put in some humiliating position. Susan needed some
plain pictures of his penis in various states of arousal from
totally flaccid to slightly erected.

Julia enjoyed the pictures so much that the girls decided to ask
her if they wanted to meet the boy who let them take the pictures
and see his cock for real. Julia realized that she had already
seen all that there was to see, and from the nature of the
pictures, she could see that they were taken "locally". There was
only one "local" boy, Susan's cousin, so she had a good idea who
it was she would meet. She knew Ken, and was comfortable with
him, so she agreed.

The first step was to prepare Ken for the meeting. They pumped
him totally dry using every masturbation technique they knew.
Then they checked all rubber balls, sneakers, and bathing caps at
the door. Julia was brought in, and introduced to a totally
dressed Ken. Susan asked Ken to show them his penis, and they all
went to the bathroom where Ken unzipped his fly and urinated
while the four girls watched.

>From there, they went back into the family room where Susan, Judy
and Helen played "trading post" with Ken. The game was quite
simple, in order to get a piece of clothing back from the girls,
Ken had to trade them a piece of clothing he was wearing. The
girls continued play until he was totally naked.

The following Monday was the big day. Ken was given the entire
weekend off (with the strictest orders that he would engage in
absolutely no sexual activity). That afternoon, after school, the
four girls assembled in Susan's basement to witness Ken's "pee
and strip act". Helen was pleased that he was able to do so with
only the slightest sign of an erection. Once the girls soon
settled down to other activities and Julia became comfortable
with Ken's nudity, Helen decided it was time to get her sister
more involved. She produced a rubber ball from hiding, and
suggested that Julia and Ken bounce it back and forth to one
another.

The mere sight of the ball would normally be enough to get Ken
aroused. In his condition of not having been masturbated for
nearly 72 hours after such strenuous "training", he was "up" in a
matter of seconds. Having to actually handle anything made of
rubber in a game with a girl gave him quite an impressive
hard-on. Julia had no choice but to notice it, and the girls
convinced her to learn how to play P-ball. At first she was
extremely excited, and giggled a lot every time she touched Ken's
penis. However, by the end of the day, she had picked up on
playing P-ball, and became very matter of fact about playing with
Ken's penis.

The finale of the afternoon came when the girls had Ken
masturbate for them. He knelt down facing them as they crowded on
the couch to watch him jerk off. Although he was performing
without direct intervention of a girl, and was not using a rubber
toy, he did a very good job. Having him abstain for several days,
and playing P-ball, as well as performing for a rather large and
extremely attentive female audience all combined to give him a
very passable ejaculation.

-=o=-

During the rest of the week, Helen and the other girls wasted no
time demonstrating to Julia how they masturbated Ken themselves.
Julia picked up on what they had to teach her rather well, but
she didn't quite have the skills that the older girls possessed.
Although she could masturbate Ken with a rubber ball, she didn't
have the feel for getting him close to the edge, and usually let
him come too soon. She had no problem making him ejaculate into
her bathing cap, but bathing cap masturbation was more of a
girl's private pleasure. It was not as much as a spectator sport
as other masturbation methods.

Therefore, Julia was encouraged to concentrate on her sneakering
techniques. To provide her with more variety, Helen invented two
new ways to make Ken come on rubber. The first method was called
the total control method since the girl had total control over
the penis. The girl takes one of her sneakers in her right hand
and places it sole up with the working rubber under the head of
the penis. She takes her other sneaker and places it sole down on
top of the penis so that the outsole is just behind the head. She
then takes her "penis sandwich" and moves the lower sneaker back
and forth in a girl to boy motion while moving the top sneaker
from side to side. The net result is a circular rubbing motion
which no penis can resist. The girl can cause an ejaculation
within two minutes at the exact moment she desires. This method
is so easy and so much fun for the girls to use that when they
talked about "sneakering a boy off" this is the method they refer
to.

Helen also found another amusing way to masturbate Ken with
sneakers. She got the idea from watching Judy masturbate Ken with
her feet. Judy had Ken and she sit on chairs facing one another.
Ken's legs would be spread apart, and Judy would place the balls
of her feet on his penis and pump it from foot to foot. She
enjoyed the feel of his warm ejaculate on her feet, and loved to
wiggle her toes in it. The rest of the girls preferred to stay
clean, and did the same thing wearing sneakers.

The nice thing about masturbating a boy this way is that the girl
didn't have to concentrate on the penis as much as with other
methods. She could sit back and enjoy watching the boy's reaction
as she manipulated his organ with her feet. It was just like
doing it and watching it at the same time. Although this method
wasn't as fast and efficient as the total control method, it had
its own pleasures. The boy was still under the total domination
of a girl, literally coming at her feet.


-=o=-

Making of a Mistress
Chapter 10
Kathy

Julia eventually went off to start her own "girls club" using the
boy she had been playing with all along. Meanwhile, Susan, Judy,
and Helen kept Ken's penis pumping well into their teen years.
During this period, there were several other girls which joined
the group temporarily. Each one of them brought her experience
with her, and taught the other girls new things. One of the most
memorable of these was Kathy.

Kathy lived with her parents and, up to a couple of years ago,
her 18-year-old uncle, Jim. Since both of her parents worked, and
Jim, likeable as he was, seemed to have no intention of doing so,
she spent a lot of time with him. He had been her playmate since
she was a ***********, and always watched out for her. He took
her for ice cream, to the movies, helped her with homework and
entertained her at home. He was a friendly person, and easy
going. She always felt comfortable with him, and got along with
him just fine. She enjoyed playing games with him, even when it
got physical involving wrestling and tickling.

Kathy couldn't tell when these games turned from fun to petting.
It all happened so gradually. She was accustomed to Jim touching
her anywhere, and as long as she was dressed, she didn't mind. As
a matter of fact, some of the places he was touching her made her
feel good. She really liked the way he gave her massages.

Naturally, Kathy wanted to reciprocate, and she noticed the
bulging at his crotch whenever she started to play with him. She
felt no shame rubbing his cock through his clothing, and wondered
why there would be "wet" spots when she was finished.

Kathy definitely remembers her first view of his penis. She had
impishly woke him up one morning, which was a signal for them to
start playing. At this point, he was wearing his pajamas, and his
penis slipped out. She got back and stared at it for a while, and
when he didn't make an effort to put it back in, continued
playing. Somehow in the course of the game, his pajama tops came
off, so he wrestled hers off. The bottoms came off shortly
thereafter, and they engaged in a game of slapping at each
other's behinds.

Kathy actually enjoyed the game, and would visit Jim's bedroom
every weekday morning. It wasn't long before Jim found himself on
top of Kathy and rubbing his penis against the opening of her
vagina. Initially, there was no penetration, and Jim would kneel
straddling her body and jerk off aiming his come at her box. When
Jim finally decided to have intercourse with Kathy, he was very
gentle, and penetrated slowly. One the first attempt, he didn't
even stroke. He just eased it in all the way gradually, left it
there for a couple of minutes, slowly pulled it out, and
masturbated. He then went down on her, and she really liked that.
He finished off by masturbating again.

Regular intercourse soon became a ritual with them, and Kathy
insisted on being satisfied orally before she would let Jim in
her. She became hungry for sex, and would tease him when he
couldn't respond by wearing revealing blouses and short skirts.
Her eleven-year-old body wasn't fully developed, but she knew how
to make the seductive looks and gestures to make his cock swell.

She and Jim had regular sex until she was thirteen. That's when
her parents caught on. Uncle Jim was evicted immediately, and her
parents were too embarrassed to talk to her about it. It would
have been very hard for her to explain that she was the
instigator demanding Jim to have sex with her. After Jim, she
tried to make it with other boys, but she found f******n- to
sixteen-year-old boys too immature for her likes. They came too
fast, and they didn't want to go down on her.

It wasn't until she joined the group, that Ken got to see any of
the girls even partially undressed. It all started out with Kathy
teaching the girls how much fun cunnilingus is. Each of the girls
also got to experience intercourse with Ken, and Kathy taught the
girls a variety of positions.

Although most of the girls sexual activities with Ken were
"public" affairs (that is, many girls to one boy), the
intercourse sessions were private. Each girl had Ken all to
herself for the whole day.

Susan used her days to feel him come, so she tickled him up, and
put him in the bag while she straddled his face. After Ken
brought her to several orgasms by his tongue, she would remove
the bathing cap, and start him on the ball. She would wait until
she was a lick or two away from another orgasm, and he was a
stroke or two away from erupting to turn and ride him for a short
but intense bout of fucking. He came with the same vigor inside
her body as he did when she masturbated him with the ball. She
could feel every hot, pulsating gush inside her body.

Judy, on the other hand, took a more playful approach keeping in
line with her love of foot care. She took a pair of her sneakers
which needed washing anyway and gave them to Ken to hump the
insides. After Ken filled the first sneaker, she'd give him a
short rest and put him to work pumping his prick in the other
one.

As soon as he recovered, she put him on the ball for two more
ejaculations aiming his come into her sneakers. It took her all
morning to get him to come twice in each of her tennis shoes, but
by the time he was done, she had pools of his steamy white liquid
all over the insides. This is exactly what she wanted as she
would slip them on and lace them tightly on her feet. She enjoyed
the feel his come squishing around her toes and all over her feet
for the rest of the day.

By this time, Ken was pumped totally dry and she was sure that he
was incapable of having another orgasm. Now she was ready to ride
him long and hard. She would have him mount her and fuck the rest
of the afternoon away. Finally, before dismissing him, she would
take off her sneakers and make Ken lick her feet clean, and suck
out as much of his come from her sneakers as he could before
allowing him to wash them in the sink.

Helen remained a virgin for all practical purposes. She did try
intercourse several times, but mostly she enjoyed the feel of his
tongue on her clitoris. She would straddle his face in the
"female superior" position which would give her the access she
needed to make him come in every imaginable way as he serviced
her. She considered that sex should be a discipline for Ken, and
although she caused him to have a number of involuntary orgasms,
she made sure that he was tired and drained after the ordeal.

The most satisfying part of the ritual for her was to pee in his
face and force him to continue lapping. She even resorted to
drinking plenty of fluids prior to force feeding Ken her cunt.
Helen urged the other girls piss on Ken's face whenever they
played with him.

This was the one activity added to the girl's "public" shows. It
was quick and easy for the girls to do, usually didn't interrupt
the flow of play, and Helen liked watching the girls give Ken a
golden shower as well as giving him one.

Kathy simply wanted to fuck, fuck, fuck continuously. She
couldn't see wasting a good erection on a rubber ball, a pair of
sneakers or a bathing cap.


-=o=-

Making of a Mistress
Chapter 11
The Girl's Club

Word got around to the boys at school that there was a group of
girls that "did it". This rumor was supported by hints and nods
of the girls themselves since they knew that they needed more
boys to go around.

Each girl was trained in discipline, and taught to support her
sisters. Each girl was taught the significance of being a female
and not being dominated by a specific part of her body. Each girl
was taught not only how to control a boy's penis, but that this
control meant that she controlled the boy himself. The girls
agreed that none of them would go off on her own, and that any
boy who wanted membership in the group would be shared by all of
the girls. They even agreed on the procedures for inducting a boy
into the group.

The boy had to be sponsored by a girl, and he had to pass several
tests to gain membership. He was first presented to a board of
mistresses by his sponsor. The boy could not speak to the board
directly and would stand silently by as his sponsor would speak
on his behalf. The boy was only allowed to speak if asked a
direct question and then he could only answer through his sponsor
who would act as mediator between the board and the boy.

First of all, the board explained that any boy joining the club
would have to accept the authority of the girls. The sponsor
explained to her candidate that the club was established for the
benefit of the girls, and that their pleasure was to be satisfied
before any consideration of the male members was to be given.

It was made quite clear that any boy must be willing to submit to
the rules given him by the board of mistresses. Boys were subject
to the girls' rules even when not engaged in club activity. In
short, any boy was required to obey any girl at any time and in
any place. The girls knew that although most boys were desperate
enough to agree to these terms in hopes of having some sexual
fun, few were really willing to commit to them, so they devised a
series of entrance tests.

The girls told their candidates that they only wanted boys who
were "man enough" to pass their tests. The first of these tests
was to get a sperm sample. This was usually done at the same time
as when the boy was introduced to the mistresses. The sponsor
would be given a bathing cap with instructions to milk her
candidate. This first step was allowed to be done in private, so
the girl could take her boy into the bathroom where she could
collect the sample. Almost every boy was willing to undress for a
specific girl. Some girls would play with their boys French
kissing them, and allowing them to rub up against their bodies,
others got right down to business and simply masturbated their
boys. It didn't really matter since the mistresses really didn't
care how much the boy pumped out. They measured it as a matter of
interest, but they were more interested in the boy placing
himself at the control of at least one girl.

The next test, given a day or two later, was to see how fast the
boy could come. This step had to be witnessed, so the sponsor,
and one of the mistresses would go into the bathroom with the
boy. There, the sponsor would sneaker him off while the other
girl timed the event. The girls lost quite a few boys at this
point and a few more had difficulty getting it off before their
girl with another female looking on. Again, performance was a
secondary factor. The boy's willingness to submit to more than
one female, and the introduction of female dominated group sex
play was being tested here.

The third test was reported as being a shooting distance test.
The real test was whether the boy was totally submissive to the
girls. In the previous two tests, there was an air of privacy:
the boy exposed himself in the bathroom in the presence of
selected girls. The third test took place in front of the general
assembly. During this test, the boy was put on the ball by his
sponsor. She was required to play him for at least 15 minutes
before allowing him to come. Again, some girls took real pride in
their handiwork, and wouldn't be satisfied with anything less
than having the boy beg to be allowed to come. Boys willing to
perform for such a large female audience were passed onto the
initiation ceremony.

At the initiation, the boy was again presented to the board of
mistresses. He was ordered to strip completely naked, and his
clothes were taken from him. He was to stand at attention while
the girls played with him and took pictures of him. Finally the
boy was told to "get it up". Eventually all of the boys were
taught how to "stiffen up" on command, but at this stage of the
game some boys simply couldn't get an erection so one would be
induced with a pair of sneakers. Other boys had a hard-on as soon
as a female set of eyes viewed their cocks. It was at the
initiation that the vital measurements were made.

The boy was told that the first test measured "how much", the
second test measured "how fast", and the third test measured "how
far". His next test would measure "how often".

First, the boy was then put on the ball by the group's best
teaser. For a long time, the girls had the services of a
heavy-set, f******n-year-old black girl named Louise. Louise was
an masturbation artist. She did an excellent job teasing cock
with a rubber ball. The girls didn't have to see the boy's
swollen, red cock to know she was doing her job. She had every
one of her boys breaking out in cold sweats within a couple of
minutes. Within five minutes, she had him moaning and pleading
for relief. Some boys actually started crying. The girls really
enjoyed how with gentle finger and wrist motion with the ball,
she could bring a boy under her total domination in such a short
time.

Louise didn't let them come, however. She knew her job was done
once the hormones kicked in. She knew that once a boy started
down the road towards an ejaculation he was hopelessly enslaved
by his penis and would be willing to do anything for relief. It
was a condition of this relief that he was required to bring each
of the mistresses to orgasm with his tongue. The girls had him
"in the bag" so as to maintain his heightened arousal, and would
occasionally finger the bathing cap to keep him as close to
orgasm as possible. After satisfying each of the girls, the girls
would engage in a marathon sneakering session.

A boy almost always thanked the first girl to masturbate him to
relief. He became increasingly less grateful as each girl took
her turn making him come on her sneakers. It was when he failed
to say "thank you" to a girl for the privilege of being
masturbated by her that one of the girls would grab his balls and
twist them hard. After that, the boy learned to thank the girl
for any masturbation she performed on him or for the pleasure of
eating her out.

As part of the final ceremony, the boy was issued his first pair
of panties. He was required to get, on his own, different color
panties for each day of the week, and wear one at all times. This
meant that the boys were subject to inspection by the girls
anywhere at any time. For example, a girl could have a boy pull
out his shirt tail in the school hallway so she could check to
see if he were wearing the proper color panties. More often, the
boy was told to report some place private and "drop 'em" for
several girls.

It was also at the final ceremony that the boy was introduced to
the rules he really had to live by. From that moment on, he was
required to memorize the 10 commandments of the sorority and
recite them on command:

1. I am male. I am inferior to female.

2. I am a slave to my penis. My penis belongs to my mistress. My
mistress controls my penis. She controls me.

3. I renounce the sexual bondage imposed by my malehood. My
highest aspiration is to be female. I put total faith in my
mistress to teach me to be feminine.

4. My mistress is my sole source of sexual pleasure. I must serve
her and all those females she asks me to serve.

5. I lack the discipline attain orgasm by myself. Only under the
discipline of my mistress will I know true pleasure.

6. I exist to provide pleasure for my mistress. I can expect no
wants of my own to be fulfilled except at her desire.

7. My mistress' body is sacred, only with my tongue and at her
bidding will I touch it. My body is hers to do with as she
pleases.

8. I have no secrets. As I stand naked before my mistress in
body, I must also stand naked before her in mind. I must confess
to her my deepest fantasies.

9. There is no thought I can think unless it be to honor my
mistress. There is no word I can speak unless it be to praise
her. There is no action I can take unless it be to please her.

10. I am not female. Until I have the courage to become one, I
must serve all those who are.

As further proof of his commitment to rule #10, if the boy had a
sister, he was required to bring her along to one of the meetings
so she could see the type of activities her brother was in to,
and support it at home. Boys also got special consideration if
they brought in new members (male or female).

Although the group had many different girls and boys "pass
through" it, it's highest participation was ten mistresses and
six male slaves.

The group had an interesting composition. Most of the boys were
confident in their "public" life. They didn't seem to be whimps.
True whimps would not have made it through the initiation
ceremonies.

The girls represented a thorough cross section of female
population of the school. Helen represented the "most likely to
succeed" image while most of the other girls were average, and a
few could be considered timid, shy or "mousy". The girls all had
one thing in common, however. They were frustrated by the fact
the external world favored boys, and they were willing to do
something about it, some more forcefully than others.

Each boy was at the disposal of any girl in the group. The group
had sessions with all of the girls assembled sitting on a circle
of chairs with their panties off. The boys knelt in front of
them, eating them out. At the appointed interval, the boys would
shift to the next girl, and eat her out. There were some days
when they would spend hours doing this. The girls rewarded good
performance with masturbation, and in exceptional cases,
intercourse.

Having just two boys was more than twice the fun of one boy. The
girls set up contests. The most primitive of these contests were
simple jerk off sessions among the boys to see which one could
bring himself to orgasm first. From there it was easy to progress
to contests in which the girls did the masturbating, and the boys
did the coming. The girls used just about every one of the
masturbation techniques during these games . There was a certain
social prominence to being "top sneaker", or shooting a boy the
farthest by putting him on the ball.

The girls also devised tests to see which brand of sneakers
worked best for a particular masturbation style, or which rubber
balls produced the best shooting distance.

In keeping with the spirit that male masturbation was a female
spectator sport as well as a participatory sport, the girls also
devised contests in which the boys masturbated each other.

At first, they merely had the boys mimic the girls by having them
use rubber balls, bathing caps and sneakers on one another.
Sometimes, they would even dress the boys up in girl's clothing
and have them role play a skit for them.

Another favorite game of the girls had the boys play for them was
a cock sucking contest. The two boys would be bound into a 69
position. The object of this game was to make your opponent come
before you. Therefore, boys engaged in this activity would lick,
swirl their tongues around, and suck and nibble with great gusto.
After coming, the winner swaps his load (mouth to mouth) with the
loser, and the loser is required to swallow. The loser then gets
to be the recipient of anal intercourse by the winner.

The best of the "Penis Performances" involved a type of
masturbation that took both girls and boys to accomplish.

To prepare for the "cock fight" each boy had a "pit crew" of
girls in attendance to prepare him for the event. To assure that
all boys competing in the event started in an equal state of
sexual excitement, the girls would tickle each contestant up, put
him on the ball for several minutes, and then put him in the bag
for about five minutes.

The boys would be brought together face to face. Each
"contestant" was under the control of two girls: a "spitter", and
a "rubber". The "spitter" provided saliva to the contest to keep
her cock lubricated as the "rubber" rubbed her boy's penis
against the other girls' penis. At the word, "Go!", the girls
would whip off the rubber bathing cap, and start stroking the
head of their opponent's cock with their own. The object of the
game is to make the other girls' boy come first. The losing boy
had to kneel down and lick his own ejaculate off his opponent's
penis. The winner was usually rewarded by being allowed the honor
to pick the girl and the method for his next masturbation.

The girls also timed these events. Most of the time, a cock fight
would only last 5 to 10 minutes, in some cases, however, the boys
would go on for an hour requiring a "crew change" among the
girls.

When a boy was drummed out for unsatisfactory performance, it
involved a ritual designed to be totally demeaning. He had to
submit to an endless succession of girls straddling his face
while another girl teased his cock. He was not allowed to come
even though they made sure his penis was raw for several days.

-
-=o=-

Making of a Mistress
Chapter 12
THE WOMEN'S CLUB

Throughout all of the Girls experiences, Judy kept touch with her
sister, Lisa, concerning her relationship with boys. When the
Girls turned 17, Lisa provided them with false ID, and invited
them out to a male strip club. She was pleased with their
reaction. Lisa then questioned the Girls at length concerning
their activities and asked some very detailed questions. She
asked if she could be included in on some of their masturbation
sessions with Ken to learn what her "k** sister" had to show her.

Susan and Judy were glad to have her participate, and made the
appointment for the following week. Lisa seemed proud of her
sister's accomplishments, and learned very quickly all that she
was shown. The younger Girls noticed the confidence and firmness
in which she ordered Ken around. They could tell that she was far
more advanced then they at this game.

Lisa said that she would like to return the favor, and invited
the Girls to spend a week at her house the following month during
their spring break from school. She said nothing except that she
had a surprise for them, and to make sure that they bring their
gear.

Lisa picked up the Girls at the bus station, and drove them to
her house. The Girls noticed, as they approached the house, that
it was neatly kept, and they wondered how such a busy
businesswoman could keep it so orderly. Their answer came as soon
as they opened the door and met Laura.

Laura appeared to be a very attractive young lady dressed in a
maid's uniform. If it weren't for the penis sticking out of the
skirt, she would have looked completely feminine. Before the
Girls could ask, Lisa introduced them.

In the course of subsequent conversation it came out that Larry
(Laura's real name, though that was seldom remembered) was a
business executive in Lisa's office. Laura couldn't take the
pressure of being in charge of a large section and having to make
decisions all the time. Larry once considered himself a "ladies
man," but that soon gave way when stress induced impotence set
in.

That's when Lisa came into his life. Larry confessed to her his
problem and she was very understanding. He felt secure taking her
into his confidence, and knew that normal sex between them was
out of the question. When Lisa asked him if he had ever
experimented with bondage and discipline, he indicated that he
was horrified at the idea of giving up control. Lisa convinced
him that he didn't have to give up control, he simply had to give
up mistrusting others.

Lisa impressed upon him that he needed the responsibilities of
his life removed from his shoulders and placed in the hands of
someone he could trust. She started with some very simple therapy
techniques such allowing him to trust her to catch him as he fell
back into her arms, or blindfolding him and leading him around
obstacles. Eventually, this led to bondage where he had to depend
upon her for basic needs. At first, it was a matter of Larry
trusting his friend Lisa, eventually it escalated to a sexual
situation.

After six months under Lisa's "care", Larry was willing to take
the big leap of faith and relinquish the control of his sex life
to her. He felt relieved not to have to be in charge of
everything all of the time. It felt so good, that he accepted
Lisa's suggestion to go "all the way". Lisa was willing to take
control of his life and relieve him of the pressures of having to
live up to the masculine expectations of virility. Larry felt so
comfortable with this arrangement, that he expressed his deepest
and most secret fantasies to Lisa as she suggested he do. With
that burden removed, his sexual potency returned. Larry quit the
"day job", moved in with Lisa, transferred all his worldly
possessions to her, gave up his masculine clothing, and became
Laura.

Lisa instructed the Girls to address Laura as a female, and to
continue that train of thought as long as they were there. The
Girls had no problem with this, yet it still took some time
before they stopped giggling when referring to "her" penis or
"her" testicles.

Lisa had Laura prepare the three "Women" drinks. (Laura was
simply addressed as "Girl") and relaxed as Laura took her
position behind her mistress rubbing her shoulders. Lisa
apologized for being such a poor hostess and had Laura perform
cunnilingus on Susan. She told Judy to slip off her sneakers and
that Laura would be at her command as soon as she finished with
Susan.

Susan was amazed at the delicate, yet stimulating treatment her
clitoris was getting from Laura's tongue. She had never been
eaten out so skillfully! After giving Susan several orgasms, Lisa
directed Laura to service Judy. Judy had to admit that even with
all the experience Ken had, he had never been able to "make love"
to her feet as well as Laura. Laura had just the right
combination of licking, sucking, nibbling, and flicking to send
ticklish shivers from Judy's feet, up her legs, into her spine,
and cause her mind to drift peacefully. This condition caused her
"love juices" to flow almost as freely as if she were
masturbating.

When the Girls talked to Lisa about Laura's special talents, Lisa
admitted that Laura was "trained by the best".

As Laura was servicing her two guests, Lisa explained that the
reason she wanted to know so much about how they played with boys
was for Laura's sake. She said that Laura was a faithful and
loyal servant, and a good Girl. She wanted to provide a means of
rewarding her. Allowing her to jerk off while being humiliated
wasn't enough. Yet, Lisa wanted something easy. She said that
there was no sense to being a dominatrix if you had to work at
it.

-=o=-

Lisa also told them about "the club". She knew a Woman, Miriam,
who ran a health club. During the day, it was a normal aerobics,
racquetball, and swim club. On the third Wednesday night of each
month, there would be an "executive board meeting" which
consisted of dominant Women and their submissive males. The Women
would meet to exchange ideas, and to humiliate their males in
front of a large female audience. Lisa said that what Judy and
Susan had to show would be of great interest to the club. The
Women were always interested in looking at new methods to impose
disciple and humiliation upon the penis bearers. Therefore, if
the play involved actual penis play -- so much the better.

Lisa had Judy and Susan work with Laura. Laura had to be taught
what to expect, and the Girls had to experiment with putting her
on the ball. Putting a boy on the ball isn't all that difficult
if the objective is merely to get him to come. The Girls learned
that each boy is different, and if a Girl wanted to bring him to
the edge of pleasurable pain, and get a good ejaculation from
him, she had to know how to "read him". It took the Girls several
attempts until they had Laura's "flash point" figured out.

On the day of the big event, the Girls kept Laura well teased
throughout the day. They frequently brought her to the edge of
orgasm and kept her in the bag most of the day. She even arrived
at the club in the bag even though it made her pants bulge more
than usual. (Going to the club gave her a hard on anyway -- males
at the club were expected to have a hard on at all times unless
ordered not to have one by a mistress).

When they arrived, there were already several naked males on the
aerobics floor as Women dressed in their outfits looked them
over. Susan and Judy took Laura to the men's locker room where
they shaved off her day's growth of pubic hair, and excited her
once more before taking her out on the floor. Susan used the ball
to excite Laura to precome level and to spread the liquid over
her penis. It gave her penis that wet sheen which made it look
better on display. A dry penis isn't as appealing.

The club ran an auction to raise funds. Women would put their
male's services for the night up for bids, and the club would get
part of the take. The auction provided extra money for the club
which it used to run special affairs and buy special equipment.
In addition to the extra money, the Women got to experience
dominating a variety of males as well as getting the opportunity
to watch their males be dominated by other Women.

On the block, when they walked in, was a very fine specimen of
malehood. He was an instructor at the club and had a large, hard
body and penis to match. He was taken by a pair of younger Women
(a secretary and a teacher's aid) and was led off by his new
mistresses for the evening to some other part of the club.
Several other males were sold in the same fashion.

The next event was a presentation of a short program. At each
meeting, a different Woman was designated to provide the program
for the next meeting. Typical program agendas usually consisted
of a demonstration of some new discipline technique, or a new sex
toy product. In rare instances, several Women would "pool" their
males to provide a skit where the males humiliated one another.

Tonight, it was Lisa's turn. The event was well covered in the
group's bulletin. Miriam had informed the group well ahead of
time of Lisa's sister and her "cousin" from out of town, and the
act was well played up before the evening's events. The Women
were looking forward to a good presentation since Lisa was noted
for her ingenuity, and Laura always gave a crowd-pleasing
performance.

Lisa had arranged to have other males participate since she
realized that there was a lot of ejaculating to do, and that
Laura couldn't do it all. Their first "volunteer" was an
18-year-old boy, donated by his mother who had raised him to
serve her and her two teenaged daughters since he was a little
boy. The Girls were glad to have him since a young stud was good
for multiple ejaculations.

Susan and Judy led off with a demonstration using bathing caps.
Most of the Women knew of a bathing cap's use as a masturbation
device, but they didn't realize how effective putting a male in
the bag could be. They never considered the use for different
styles of caps made from different types of rubber. The Girls
reawakened their interest in this old girl's toy. Miriam had to
open up the pro shop to sell some new bathing caps on the spot.
One of the Women went around collecting semen samples in her cap
so her male could taste it all.

The girls followed up with the various sneakering techniques.
They borrowed three more males from the audience and soon, Lisa,
Susan and Judy had a three ring circus going demonstrating each
of the sneaker masturbations simultaneously. The audience
applauded their approval and a barrage of questions opened up.
Susan and Judy had to stop the demonstration and give some
pointers. They pulled out several pairs of extra sneakers from
their gym bags to show the Women what they were looking for in a
sneaker.

The Women were quite envious of Susan, Judy and Lisa for being
prepared with Keds style sneakers as they demonstrated the
various methods of using them. In the following weeks, more Women
showed up wearing Keds instead of their normal aerobics or
running shoes. Both Susan and Judy lent their spare sneakers to
Women who wanted to try out the new techniques that very night.

The demonstration using the rubber ball was the grand finale. The
Women in the audience could plainly see the sexual tension in
every muscle in Laura's body. With all of the foreplay throughout
the day, it took nearly no time at all for Judy to have Laura at
her absolute limit of sanity, and she was drooling precome in a
steady stream. When Judy let the dam break, the gush of come drew
"ahs" from the crowd. Off went some of the Women for their
lockers or the pro shop, and they came back with racquetballs.
Judy, Susan, and Lisa were kept quite busy for a while as Women
brought their males by to learn the technique "first hand".

-=o=-

As the program was in progress, the Girls noticed a Woman using a
video camera to record all that was going on. When they finally
got free, Laura took them to meet her. She was introduced simply
as Mary.

Mary said she was a professor of sociology at the local
university. She was also the leader of a feminist group at the
university, and taught several sanctioned courses on feminism. In
addition to the sanctioned courses, she was also allowed to
conduct no-credit classes. One of these classes was entitled
"Pornography and Feminism", and the catalog warned that
pornographic films would be shown and discussed. Mary convinced
the authorities that, due to the sensitive nature of the topic,
and Women's reluctance to speak freely about it, that the classes
be restricted to females only.

The classes concentrated on the effects of pornography and how it
degrades Women. Mary presented many facts concerning the male
dominated pornography industry, and how young Women are attracted
to participate through exploitation. She started by showing some
rather mild erotica, and worked her way towards "harder"
pornography. At each point, she played on the growing anti-male
sentiment of her female audience.

When the course was over, she picked some of her most promising
students, and asked them if they would like to see "reverse
pornography". That is, pornography produced by Women degrading
men. She usually got a good response. When she showed the films
she, herself, took, there were cheers in the crowd. Her students
enjoyed the films, and almost every one came back for the weekly
showings. She encouraged her proteges to discuss what they viewed
with their boyfriends and solicited reaction.

Some of her students were surprised when they didn't get a
disgusted response from their boyfriends. Mary worked closely
with these young Women. She had the most responsive girls bring
their boyfriends to a private showing. This was one class where
the males were uncomfortable, and the females were outspoken. She
told the couples to go home and discuss what they had seen. She
told the Girls to come back and report the results of the
discussion.

There were always one or two students who admitted that they not
only discussed the film, but tried some of the things presented
in the films. Mary was usually persuasive enough to have the
males come back to the next group showing to demonstrate. She was
not only interested in the Women's reaction to "live"
entertainment, but she was also interested in watching the
dynamics of males viewing other males being dominated by Women.

The university also had a fertility clinic associated with it.
There, Mary ran into Hal. Hal was a closet homosexual who had a
private camera setup to observe males donating sperm for
research. Mary threatened to expose him if he didn't give her a
copy of his tapes. In exchange, she also gave him some of the
club's surplus "toys". Mary had hours of tape showing hundreds of
males demonstrating their favorite masturbation techniques.

Mary found it interesting that almost all of the males used
"jerking off" (or some closely related technique) to masturbate.
Yet when she asked a limited sample of males how they learned how
to do this, most of them claimed to have learned it
spontaneously. A few learned by watching other boys or by having
other boys perform it on them, and one confessed that his sister
taught him how to do it. Almost every male on the tape did a
"solo act" usually while looking at or reading some erotic
material. A couple of males, however, were assisted by
rubber-gloved Women. One of these performed while licking his
female partner's feet.

Most of the males in the film were healthy young men, who were
instructed to abstain from sex for at least 72 hours before
reporting. Therefore, Mary got many shots of great ejaculations.
She also found that Women enjoyed watching these tapes almost as
much as those featuring female domination.

Although Mary's classes had a high attrition rate, she usually
had one or two Women with the courage to be open dominatrixes.
For each one of these, she estimated she had five to ten "closet
dominatrixes". Mary was also the club's leading recruiter and
supplier of penises.

-=o=-

Finally, Susan and Judy were left alone long enough for Lisa to
show the Girls around a little. In the free weight room, they
came across the stud bought at the auction. He was on his back on
a bench with his arms and legs tied under the seat as he was
being ridden by the teacher while the secretary was giving him
dictation with her pussy straddling his face.

Out on the nautilus floor, one of the Women was in a leg exercise
machine which held her legs apart as her male plaything for the
evening knelt before her pushing his tongue through the specially
installed seam in her crotch.

In one of the racquetball courts, two Women were practicing their
serves as their male knelt against the wall with his buttocks
towards them. His rear end already had several red circles from
where his mistress or her partner had driven her ball on serve.

In the tournament court (the one with the big glass wall and
spectator section set up behind it), several Women watched two
males being choreographed by their dominatrix du jour through a
number of homosexual acts.

Everywhere Susan and Judy went, they saw Women in total control
of males. They never realized how widespread the practice was,
and they could plainly see how well some of the Women have
practiced the art. One of the older Women they talked to claimed
to have decades of experience. She said that as long as she had
been a dominatrix, she never got tired of doing it. She never
lacked for males since the number of men needing to be dominated
greatly exceeds the number of females willing to dominate them.
The challenge was to convert those that needed to be dominated
into those who wanted to be dominated. Even with these odds,
there wasn't any reason any Woman shouldn't have an entourage of
male slaves. She was amazed at the number of males who are
willing to submit to hours of humiliating servitude to a Woman in
exchange for seconds of ejaculatory pleasure. She said that it
kept her mind sharp thinking of new ways to humiliate males and
have them provide her pleasure.


-=o=-

Making of a Mistress
Chapter 13
MARITAL ASSISTANCE

It is not surprising at all that Susan married a man who she knew
would accept her past life. Although Don never knew Susan when
she was the "rubber queen" in her town, he knew of her exploits
before marrying her. Susan didn't dominate Don although he
appreciated her aggressiveness, and although he didn't have an
inborn rubber fetish, he readily accept Susan's masturbation of
him using rubber.

Don and Susan became friendly with a slightly younger couple,
Sandy and her husband, Chuck. Don and Chuck worked for the same
company which had an overseas contract. This meant that they
often went on long business trips together. When the men were
gone, the women got together to play bridge with other women
whose husbands also traveled a lot.

As often happens in these sessions, the talk included sex. The
women were different than the men in this regard. Although they
talked about sex, they usually refrained from graphic
descriptions. However, they normally gave enough information to
know who was doing what.

The other difference was that they usually talked about their
spouses' performances rather than their own, and didn't
exaggerate.

>From these sessions, Susan learned that Chuck had a sexual
problem. Although he could get an erection and keep it almost
indefinitely, he had a very difficult time ejaculating. Most of
the women jokingly remarked that they wish their husbands had
that problem, but they were really sympathetic. They knew that
Sandy loved Chuck very much and wanted to please him sexually.

Sandy explained that she tried to hang in there during
intercourse, and used to have an orgasm or two, but most of the
time she became sore waiting for Chuck to have his. She loved
feeling him ejaculate inside her, but that didn't happen too
often. Eventually she stopped having orgasms. She felt inadequate
as a woman.

Some of the other women suggested fellatio, but Sandy's strict
Catholic upbringing made that a non-choice. She couldn't overcome
the twelve years of nuns, and even if she could, she found the
thought of oral sex by either partner disgusting despite the
reassurances of some of the other women. Likewise, she couldn't
find an advocate for anal sex in that room even if she could
consider the idea herself.

She confessed that she knew that Chuck jerked off. In fact, she
convinced him to let her watch. She wanted to be a part of his
sexual pleasure even if it was a small part. Although she found
watching him play with himself exciting, she wanted a more active
role. She wanted to make him come herself.

She said she tried to jerk him off herself, but she could never
get it just right. Not that Chuck ever complained, but she
noticed that she didn't get him off as fast as he did, and didn't
get as much semen out of him. Even there she was a failure. More
than once, she caught him masturbating in the bathroom an hour
after jerking him off herself.

None of the other women (except Susan) had experience with giving
their men hand jobs, so they couldn't offer advice. Susan had
something better in mind.

Susan always had to be careful of what she said. She never made a
full disclosure of her previous or current sexual activities to
anyone in her bridge group. Some of them, like Betty, Chuck's
boss' wife, were too old and wouldn't understand. Others, like
Sandy, were young and naive and would be shocked. Yet, the group
knew that there was something special going on between her and
Don.

So she approached the subject carefully, dropped some hints, and
suggested that she had a technique that she used on Don to make
him come when he was hot and she wasn't willing. A lot of ears
picked up at this. There wasn't a woman in the room who didn't
have her period at least once when her husband came home from a
month-long trip.

Susan told them about sneakering. When she first suggested it,
some of the women giggled. Some of them thought it was a joke at
first. Others thought it was kinky. But none of them found it
disgusting. They paid attention as Susan pulled up a chair, asked
them to imagine their man sitting in it, and put her feet on the
edge of the seat. She pumped her sneakers back and forth rubbing
the soles against an imaginary penis.

Susan had the undivided attention of her audience. By the time
she had finished, she had converted the whole group. She was
barraged with questions. She had to explain what part of the sole
to make contact with, how to catch the head of the penis just
right, and what kind of sneakers worked best.

This was a major breakthrough for the group. They were never so
overtly sexual before. They usually talked about the relationship
aspect of their sex lives rather than techniques.

Susan never found out if the other women took her advice and put
it to use. However, as they were carpooling home, Sandy had some
more questions. Susan invited her in for coffee. Sandy was
excited about the prospect and really wanted to learn how to do
it, but her sexual confidence was so low she didn't think she
could risk one more failure with Chuck.

Susan suggested that Sandy watch her practice it first on Don.
Sandy was shocked. She told Susan that she wasn't into adultery,
and certainly wasn't into group sex.

Susan did her best to calm her fears. She asked Sandy if she had
ever played with a penis as a ***********. Sandy admitted that
she did. Susan asked her if she had ever done it with another
girl present. Again the answer was yes.

Sandy wanted to know where Susan was going with this line of
questioning, so Susan pointed out that this wasn't really any
different. As a ***********, she was curious about sex. She and
her girlfriend did something about it. It was perfectly natural
and wasn't so much a sexual experience as it was a part of normal
development.

In neither case would there be intercourse, in fact the women
would remain fully clothed. Sneakering is something ***********s
could do, and would do if they knew about it, and neither sex
would feel the worse for it.

Besides, the ends justified the means. Sneakering would lead to a
better sex life with Chuck.

Sandy reluctantly agreed.

-=o=-

Susan discussed the situation with Don who agreed to help. He
admitted that he had a thing for Sandy and enjoyed her company
very much. Besides, he and Chuck were good friends, and he
confided to Susan that Chuck had complained about sex with Sandy.
Susan called Sandy and set up an appointment for the following
Saturday.

Sandy arrived at 10 AM. Susan figured that a mid-morning
appointment would take something out of the sexual tension.
Nobody does sex at 10 AM on a Saturday. Maybe they mow the lawn,
or go to the grocery store, but they don't have sex.

Susan poured Sandy a cup of coffee and started some small talk.
Don came down dressed in a sweatshirt and running pants. He
grabbed a cup of coffee and sat down and joined the conversation.
After about 15 minutes of this, Susan suggested that they get
down to business.

Sandy had a small overnight bag with her in which she packed
every pair of sneakers she owned. She wanted to be sure she had
the right kind. Susan looked at them critically and told Sandy
which ones would work and why. Susan passed each pair to Don who
rubbed his fingers over the soles and nodded his approval. Susan
noticed his conditioned reflex -- a bulge in the running pants at
the appropriate place. They selected a pair and went upstairs.

Sandy felt uneasy as she entered Don and Susan's bedroom. Susan
calmed her again by explaining that they were all consenting
adults, and that this was going to help her sex life.
Nonetheless, Sandy was shaking as Don pulled down his running
pants for the two women. He had nothing on underneath. His
semi-erected cock bobbed out.

Sandy blushed and said it was good that she and Susan could
remain clothed. Susan directed Sandy to a chair where she could
watch the entire procedure.

Susan and Don sat facing each other with Don's legs spread apart,
and Susan with her feet between them. Susan explained to Sandy
how important it was to make sure the sneakers made contact with
the penis properly as she demonstrated the pumping action to get
Don going. She kept this up for several minutes until Don was
excited enough to produce a lot of precome, and then she invited
Sandy to try.

Sandy was reluctant, and tried to back out. She said that
watching was bad enough. She said that she was happily married
and didn't want to cheat on her husband. Susan argued that it was
"purely mechanical". She wasn't doing anything more than a
physical act with her feet. It was no different than donning a
pair of sneakers to go jogging. She didn't even have to get
undressed. She could wear the same clothes she'd wear to keep
house or go to the store. Susan was quick to point out the
advantage of this -- the activity could be spontaneous -- not
preparations were required.

Sandy nervously sat in the seat. She looked at Don who was
leaning on his elbows on the bed. His legs were d****d over the
end with his knees spread wide apart. His penis stood tall
awaiting attention. Sandy took a deep breath, and put her feet up
against it.

With Susan's tutoring, Sandy was able to masturbate Don. She was
extremely slow and timid at the start, but she eventually picked
up the rhythm. She actually squealed with delight as she watched
Don's jets of come splatter against his stomach.

Sandy called Susan the next day and was able to report success
with Chuck. She couldn't tell him where she learned how to do it,
so she tricked him. She and Chuck went for a walk and she
suggested they shower together.

As soon as Chuck got undressed, she faked a cramp in her leg and
asked Chuck to rub it for her. Chuck didn't question why,
although she had removed most of her other clothes, she still had
her sneakers on. He didn't question it as she swung her feet up
into his lap. He didn't question her playfulness at all, he
simply enjoyed it.

Sandy was surprised at how quickly he erected and she was able to
ejaculate him within a couple of minutes. Sandy told Susan that
it was great. She never had sex twice in one day, and here she
made two men come within hours of each other, and she could do it
all over again and again. She could be a sex machine without any
effort at all on her part.

Chuck now asked for this treatment frequently. Sneakers became a
part of their love making, and in the interest of saving time,
and maintaining spontaneity, Sandy made sure she wore a pair as
they made love.

Sneakering was only part of the answer to Sandy's problem. She
and Chuck had agreed to have a baby. This meant, Chuck had to
come inside her body. Susan suggested that if Chuck could get
excited enough just before intercourse, he might be able to come
during intercourse.

Susan explained how to put a man on the ball, but cautioned Sandy
that it took a lot of practice to get the technique just right.
Sandy was never too skillful with her hands, and wasn't sure she
could do it. Susan suggested that she get Don to the ejaculation
point, and then let Sandy take over with intercourse.

This plan would require the cooperation of all of them. Sandy
would have to tell Chuck and Don would probably have to convince
him to go along. Surprisingly, Chuck agreed once the initial
shock wore off. They waited until Sandy's appropriate time of the
month, and set up a session.

The two men had a drink as they watched some X-rated films on the
VCR. They both knew they would have to get naked, so they slipped
off their clothes early. Meanwhile, their wives were getting
ready in an adjacent room. Sandy had told Susan about a fantasy
Chuck had to do it with ***********s, so they both dressed in
***********'s outfits and did their hair in pig tails.

By the time the girls made their entrance, Chuck and Don were
partially erected. Susan went over to Chuck and asked him if she
could play with his penis. Sandy and Don sat down to watch. Susan
took out a rubber ball and went to work. Don knew what she was
doing and could emphathise with what his friend was going
through. His penis shot up as he watched Susan perform on another
man. Sandy noticed his erection, and volunteered to take care of
it. She faced him, and pumped him dry on her sneakers.

Meanwhile, Chuck was being whipped into a sexual frenzy by Susan.
He was just about to come when Susan told Sandy to get on him.
Sandy nearly attacked him on the couch and Don and Susan left
them to it. Susan told Don she still had a vision of Sandy
masturbating him and wanted him more than ever.

Susan, Sandy and their husbands went through this same ritual
several times until Sandy eventually got pregnant.

-=o=-

Susan woke slowly in the embrace of her husband's arms. Both of
them slept in late after an all-night session of fantastic sex.
She listened to his slow breathing and smiled to herself. She was
happy that she could please him so much.

She slowly disengaged herself from him so as not to disturb him.
She put on her robe and padded out to the kitchen to make
breakfast. As she stood at the sink to fill the coffee pot, she
looked out the window. It was late morning and the young spring
sun was already high in the sky. c***dren were already playing in
the street. Across the way, she could see her neighbor's
first-grader playing with another girl from down the block. They
were bouncing a rubber ball back and forth to each other.













Journal




CHAPTER I - THE DEVELOPING TEEN


Hi. I'm Chrissy Parsomes. Many boys like myself got their
start wearing girl's clothes by stumbling into cross dressing by
accident. Many tried on their sister's clothes when the family
was away from the house, or dressed as a girl for a Halloween
masquerade party. My introduction to dressing came in a more
insidious fashion. To make a long story short, my step-mother
decided that she preferred to have a daughter instead of a son,
and in one year, she and her sister converted me from a boy to a
12 year-old girl. Here's how it happened.
For most of my school career, I attended a small, private
school in NYC. My mother was a noted archaeologist, and didn't
spend much time with the family. Most of the time, she spent
months on end, digging in Africa for artifacts. My father was a
mild mannered secretary, and didn't have a lot of parenting
skills. As a result, mom enrolled me in this residential private
school beginning in third grade. I usually saw my parents twice a
year during Christmas and summer vacations.
During the fall of my eighth grade year, my father shocked
the family by announcing that he decided to divorce my mother to
marry Mrs. Locke, his boss at the company. I had met Ms. Locke a
few times when I had to get report cards signed, and knew her to
be a dominant woman whose sickeningly sweet persona seemed to
envelope everyone who came into contact with her. Strange to say,
it almost seemed like she treated everyone like a ************
girl. "Sweetie this", and "honey that", she always commented how
beautiful my eyelashes were, or how attractive my school uniform
looked. Although I didn't relish the thought of having this woman
as a step-mother, I was sort-of excited about the prospect of
being treated in a feminine manner.
Ever since I was ***************, I had harbored secret
desires to live life as a girl. I spent October break of that
year at my paternal grandmother's apartment, since my parents had
been called out of town to a big anthropology convention. She
lived in a big high rise in central Manhattan. Since Halloween
happened to fall on that particular weekend, my grandmother had
accepted an invitation on my behalf to attend a costume party at
one of her neighbor's apartments. When my grandmother indicated
that she didn't have time to get me a costume, her lady friend
told my grandmother that her daughter had some pretty party
dresses that would probably fit me, and that I could come dressed
as a ***********. My grandmother thought this was a great idea,
and borrowed everything that I would need to make the
transformation complete, Pink nylon panties, white lace trimmed
anklets, Mary Jane shoes, rhumba over-panties with ruffles, a
fluffy bouffant slip with a form-fitting elastic top, and a
pretty pink satin party dress with long sheer sleeves and a pink
ribbon sash that tied in the back. Although I was a bit
apprehensive about dressing in the clothes of the opposite sex,
my grandmother convinced me how wonderful it would be. We spent
the whole afternoon before the party playing dress up, complete
with makeup, hair curlers, and fingernail polish. As soon as I
donned the first pair of nylon panties, I knew that I wanted to
be a girl. As a result, I had a great time at the party. I made a
perfect specimen of a ***********, and no one figured out on the
trip over that I was a boy dressed in ***********'s clothing.
Since this dress up session was our little secret, I never told
my mom or dad about it, though the experience remained in the
forefront of my dreams for years after. Soon after, my
grandmother passed away, thus putting an end to any possibility
of wearing girl's clothes in the foreseeable future. When ever
possible, I tried on my mother's panties and slips, but the
experience wasn't the same. My mother was an avowed feminist, and
wore utilitarian cotton underwear. She never wore a bra or
stockings, so I had to make do with what was available. As a
result, I didn't have much of a chance to do anything about my
wishes to learn to be a girl.
Weird things started to happen as soon as I arrived home for
the Christmas break. Mrs. Locke (she refused to give up her
maiden name) refused to allow me to get my usual haircut. She
said that my hair was much too beautiful to cut, and that I
should start to wear it long. She required that I wash and
condition it every day, and keep it neatly styled. Every morning,
she brushed my hair into what to me looked like a girl's style,
and gave it a light coating with hair spray to keep it in place.
Occasionally, she even placed a few curlers in my hair at night
to "help keep the hair out of my eyes." I wanted to object,
because my feminine desires had been a secret between my
grandmother and I, but I had a feeling that her sweet feminine
exterior masked a dislike for males that could make my life
difficult during the coming summer. Wanting to start my
relationship with my step-mom off on the right foot, I acquiesced
to her demands.
Due to my stressful academic life, I had always been a nail
biter. As soon as she noticed me nibbling on my fingers, she
demanded that I stop biting my nails, To help with this new rule,
she began to manicure my nails, and kept them coated with clear
polish "to keep them from chipping." Soon my nails resembled
those of many of the girls in my class. Even my evening attire
changed. Pajamas were out. In their place, I found Lanz flannel
nightgowns to wear (she called them sleep shirts).
Former vacations were spent hanging around with the guys
from the old neighborhood. This vacation however, it seemed like
every minute of the day was spent shopping for girl's clothes for
Mrs. Locke's many nieces, and I often had to hold the pending
purchases while she looked for other items. This was great.
Before, the closest I ever got to girl's clothing was passing
through the department on the way to the boy's section. Now I was
able to closely examine the beginner bras, slips and dresses.
Although I was excited to be able to touch such items again, I
would have died if this had become public knowledge. Therefore it
was very embarrassing to be asked to hold dresses up against my
body, or to choose which color leotard my cousin Nancy would
like. Soon though, it happened so many times that I wasn't even
embarrassed to carry nylon, ruffled panties, tights or slips to
the register for payment.
The worst part of the whole deal came about when she
suddenly took me out of my old boarding school, and registered me
at a place that I had never heard of called the Petite Fille
Academy. Not only did I have to spend my last week of vacation
filling out reams of paperwork, but I also had to go for a
physical exam with the school physician.
After the usual array of questions, followed by the typical
tests that one expects during such an exam, the doctor told my
step-mother that I was suffering from a serious vitamin
deficiency, and that starting immediately, she would have to put
me on a year long, vitamin treatment program. The doctor gave me
an injection right there in the office, and handed my mother a
prescription for vitamins to be filled at the school pharmacy.
The vitamins were unlike anything I had ever seen. They looked
like big purple footballs.
I entered my new school at the end of January, and settled
into a routine not completely different from my old school. The
Petite Fille Academy was a former girls finishing school, that
decided to admit boys. Although a coed school now, most of the
students were girls. The few boys, if you could call them that,
looked like hippies, with long hair, and fair features. Most wore
clothes that looked more like girl's slacks and blouses than boys
pants. No football players, or jocks here. All seemed effeminate
to varying degrees. School uniforms were gray slacks and white
shirts for the boys, and navy blue pleated skirts, white tights,
white shiny blouses and black mary janes for the girls. If it
wasn't for the girl's skirts, I wouldn't be able to tell the
difference between the girls and many of the boys.
Despite my adoption of a routine, the change of scenery
seemed to prompt a similar change in my personality. Despite
taking the vitamins every day, I felt sort of weak, and quite a
bit laid back. I originally missed the fact that PF Academy
lacked soccer, baseball and track, but after three weeks at the
school, I rarely thought about these male activities any more. I
actually began to enjoy the home ec, dance and baton twirling
classes. I was spending a lot of time hanging around with the
girls on my hall, and soon fit in with the group as one of the
girls. Talking about boyfriends, makeup and fashions was much
more interesting than sports, or cars.
Before I knew it, summertime rolled around, and I was
excited about the prospect of seeing all of my old friends back
in New York. Unfortunately, my step mother had other ideas. As
soon as I arrived home, she told me that I was going to spend the
summer at her sister's house in San Francisco, and that I would
be flying out of JFK the next morning.
The next morning, I discovered that Mrs. Locke had already
packed my suitcase, and while she had packed toiletries, a Lanz
nightshirt, and a few other items, she neglected to include all
of my clothes. For some reason, I had gained a lot of weight in
the hips that semester, and nothing seemed to fit. I told my step
mom before I arrived home about this weight gain, and she told me
not to worry. She promised to take me shopping as soon as I got
home. When I asked about the missing clothes, she told me that
since nothing fit, there was no point in carrying clothes on the
plane. My aunt would take me shopping when I arrived in
California.


CHAPTER II - CALIFORNIA CHANGES
When I arrived in California, Ms. Locke's sister picked me
up at the airport. Aunt Clara was the same age and had the same
build as my step mother, but was considerably more domineering. I
quickly learned that she didn't like boys very much, and was only
letting me stay with her to give her sister a break from c***d
care chores. She informed me that she didn't want me hanging
around all summer, so she had already arranged for me to get a
summer job working for a friend of hers. She had already
scheduled an interview during the next afternoon, and warned me
not to blow it. She told me that if I gave her any aggravation, I
might find myself in summer school instead of on vacation.
Needless to say, I wasn't thrilled, but went along with her
demands. I figured a job was a lot better than summer school. I
asked her when we could go shopping for clothes for me to wear,
but she indicated that the shopping trip could wait. Her friend
would provide me with a uniform for work time, and she had a few
things that would fit me in the interim.
The next morning, Aunt Clara took me downtown for my
interview, which happened to be at a Doctor's office. Dr Jennifer
Nelson was a friend of Aunt Clara's and needed someone to do
basic office work, and filing. Although Dr. Nelson kept asking me
a lot of questions about my skills, and experience, I got the
sense that the interview was just a formality. At the end of our
meeting, she offered me the job, and told me to show up tomorrow,
at 9:00 AM sharp. While I was putting on my jacket, Dr. Nelson
told my aunt that she could pick up my uniforms at the Angels of
Mercy uniform shop down the street. Her secretary would take care
of phoning in the style and size information so that the order
would be ready that afternoon.


CHAPTER III - MY NEW UNIFORM
The next morning, my aunt woke me up at 5:00 AM to get me ready
for my first day at work. My aunt told me that she wanted me to
look very attractive for my new boss, and that she had picked up
everything I needed when she paid for the uniforms during the
prior afternoon. After climbing out of my nightshirt, my aunt led
me to a bubbly, lilac scented bath of steaming water. After a
good soak, my aunt washed and conditioned my hair, and then
picked up a pink girl's razor. She told me that the new uniforms
were very expensive and made of a very delicate fabric that would
pull if I didn't have smooth skin. Despite my fantasies of being
a girl, I had never had any part of my body shaved. When I pulled
my legs away from her, she grabbed them and told me that she
didn't spend all that money on clothes to have me ruin them the
first week. Within five minutes, my legs and underarms were
smooth and shiny, and I was out of the tub drying myself with a
fluffy pink towel. When I was dried off, my aunt wrapped my hair
in a towel so she could make it 'look nice' after I got dressed,
hung the wet bath towel over the rod, and stood me on the bath
mat. I began to protest when she grabbed the scented, women's
body powder, but she began dusting me with the sweet smelling
powder anyway. In a tone that indicated that she rapidly losing
patience with me, she said that perspiration would also ruin the
uniform, and that the powder and extra strong deodorant would
help to keep me dry. When I told her that I would prefer straight
baby powder and men's deodorant, she snapped that she wouldn't
waste the money to buy me special toiletries when I was leaving
in three months. Her things would have to do.

She coated my underarms with her deodorant, and told me to
keep my arms up while the feminine lotion dried. She went into
the adjoining bedroom to get what I thought was my only pair of
boy's underpants.
When she returned, I couldn't believe what she held in her
hand. Panties! She walked over to the padded dressing bench
across from the tub in the bathroom, and proceeded to lay out a
brand new pair of nylon girl's panties, a package of shimmery
white tights, a satin girl's vest, and a boxed control brief for
teenagers. I backed up toward the wall, and proceeded to tell her
that there was no way I was going to wear girl's underwear. I
told her that women's toiletries were one thing, but girl's
undies were another.
"I wouldn't be caught dead in clothes like those" I said.
"Well you don't have a choice deary! Dr. Nelson's choice of
uniform material necessitates underthings that are slippery and
shiny to avoid pulls and wrinkles. If you try to wear the uniform
with boy's things, it'll ruin the expensive material. Besides,
you have to interface with the public in your new job, and will
have to look your best. You can't look your best with a wrinkly,
poorly fitting uniform."
"Why couldn't we take it back?" I asked "and exchange it for
more durable material?"
"Because" she glared with her hands on her hips, "Dr. Nelson
picked out the uniform herself, and that is what she wants you to
wear. Besides, it's too late to do anything about it right now.
You have to get to work."
She picked up the white panties, and began removing the
tags. The panties were cut very high on the leg opening, and had
a small, triangular shaped, lace panel on the front. The material
was almost satin-like in quality, and as my Aunt guided my feet
into the openings and slid them up my smooth legs, the soft
material caused my penis to begin to get bigger. "See, that's why
you need to wear a girdle dear" she giggled. "We can't have that
bulging out of your pants." She tucked my penis down between my
legs and finished pulling the panties up to my waist. I thought
that my weight gain would make me difficult to fit, but I
discovered that the panties fit perfectly. Although I was very
embarrassed standing in front of my Aunt in a pair of pretty
panties, I suddenly realized how nice they looked and felt
against the hips, made chubby by the starchy school food. The
high cut leg opening showed a lot of my leg, and the stretchy
satin really made my bottom look....well....pretty. A smile crept
over my face as I surveyed myself in the mirror.
"Enough admiration dear. We have a lot to do."
She led me away from the mirror and over to the bench. I
suddenly noticed something interesting. The stern, domineering
demeanor that initially characterized her attitude that morning
had melted into a doting, mother hen-type personality, that
seemed to increase with every garment that I put on. Instructing
me to put my hands over my head, she picked up the white, satin
vest and lowered it over my clean shaven body. The edges of the
vest were lined with a small, frilly lace, and a shiny bow
adorned the bodice at the neckline. She tucked the end of the
vest into my panties, and sat me down on the bench. She next
picked up the white tights and began removing them from the
package.
Aunt Clara said that shimmery tights were a lot shinier than
plain stockings, which would help keep my uniform nice and new.
She took the white garment from the package, rolled up a leg and
placed the toe over my arched extended foot. She helped me to my
feet, and soon the stretchy top covered my pretty white panties.
"Don't you love the way pretty stockings make your legs look
so shapely? That's why girls wear them dear. You're going to look
fantastic in your uniform."
"Yes Aunty" I replied like some zombie from a late night
horror film. The material did indeed glisten in the light from
the vanity mirror. I felt like I was in a dream world. The sweet
aroma of the bath powder coupled with the soft caresses of my new
underthings took away all of the misgivings I had about dressing
up in front of my aunt. I suddenly looked forward to trying on my
new uniform and joining the ranks of the working world as a young
woman.
"I know you do dear. You just wait to see how much fun we
are going to have in the next couple of months. I know you'll be
happy that you decided to stay with Aunty Clara. Now then, lets
try on your first girdle."
She looked at me with a wry look on her face. "I remember
when my mother bought me my first girdle. Normally girls your age
don't start wearing girdles until they are teenagers. Your only
eleven right?"
I nodded, transfixed by her voice.
"I am sure that your mother wouldn't mind you starting early
though. This is so pretty and will give you such a nice smooth
outline under your uniform. See, it's designed especially for
young teenagers just like you!" She took out the garment, and
handed me the now empty box.
I blushed when I looked at the picture of the teenaged girl
modeling the girdle. She too was wearing stockings, but she also
was wearing lots of makeup and a girl's bra over her young,
developing figure.
The box read:
"The perfect first panty girdle for today's modern teen."
It was written as if the advertising women were talking to a
teen's mother or aunt.
"Helps her stay smooth under all of her fashions. Satin
front panel gives firm support to the just developing figure.
Lycra spandex blend provides cool, comfortable support in school,
at home or out on the town. Ideal for p*****ns just starting to
show."
I giggled nervously.
"Maybe I need to start wearing a bra too?" I looked sweetly
into her eyes as she removed the tags from the girl's girdle.
"Tsk Tsk Tsk. I really don't think you're quite ready for a
bra yet dear. After all, boys don't have much to put into one!"
I suddenly awakened from my dreamy state, and remembered
that I was a boy dressed in panties and tights. I felt very
embarrassed with the comment and tears started coming to my eyes.
"It's ok dear. Don't cry honey." She put her arms around me
and buried my face in the nylon of her lacy blouse.
"All boys would love to do what you are doing, but they just
don't get the chance. I promise that I'll take you shopping for a
bra when you're ready."
Her smile made me relax, even though I couldn't tell if she
was k**ding or being serious. On one hand, I wanted to fantasize
what it would feel like to be the girl on the box, wearing a
satiny training bra. On the other hand, I was a boy, and was
going along with this uniform to stay out of summer school. She
turned to me with the girdle in her hand and lifted my chin.
"Would you someday like to play dress up with Aunty, and wear a
dress like a real girl? Maybe then Aunty can teach you about
makeup, hair styling, slips, and dresses. Would you like that
dear?" Her gaze melted into my heart. I nodded, wiping the tears
from my eyes.
"I'll bet you'd look beautiful in a pretty petticoat and
heels." She dropped my chin and held up the new girdle, and
squatted down next to me. "Anyway, we have to get moving if we're
not going to be late. Step into the legs dear."
I did what I was told, and soon, the tight, elastic garment
was in place covering my male appendage. With the girdle, there
was no bump or bulge to give away the fact that I was a boy in
girl's clothes. Despite the fact that many of the girls in the
upper grades of my school always complained about the girdles
that were mandatory attire for female students over the age of
13, I enjoyed the feeling of security that the garment provided.
My cute buns that suddenly chubbed out during the last year at
school, looked firm and toned under the white elastic. I secretly
hoped that I would be able to wear my new girdle all summer, even
under my boy's clothes.
It was almost as if she read my mind. "Now then. There's
enough underthings in your dresser to carry you for the week.
There's no point in buying any boy's underwear since you will not
have a need for it five days out of seven. You'll have to wear
your panties and vest on weekends. You don't mind do you?"
I was back under her spell. "No ma'am. Can I wear my girdle
too?"
She responded "Of course dear. I didn't buy socks for you so
you'll have to wear tights. Tights stay up so much better with a
girdle. Next summer, you'll be old enough to wear a girdle with
garters and stockings just like Aunty. Besides you have to keep
working on that figure!" She laughed as she led me out into the
bed room. She sat me down on the bed, picked up the dry cleaning
bag, and unzipped the plastic covering. That's when I got my
first look at my uniform.
Dr. Nelson choice was obviously designed for a girl. The
slacks were white polyester like those worn by most nurses. They
zipped and buttoned in the back, and had been tailored to my
waist measurement since there was no elastic in the waistband.
The top was a plain, white polyester blouse, with buttons in the
back. The material was very similar to the nylon on the front of
my panty girdle, all shiny and slippery. My aunt unbuttoned the
blouse, and after helping me into the sleeves, buttoned up the
back. Unfortunately, there was a problem.
"Hmm. This won't do at all. I can see your vest right
through the thin fabric of the blouse, and it looks terrible. The
vest is too clingy. You look like a ***********. I guess you'll
have to borrow one of my camisoles. She left the room, and soon,
returned with a plain nylon camisole with spaghetti straps. Off
came the blouse and vest, and on went the camisole.
"Much better dear" as she buttoned up the blouse again. "For
now you can borrow mine, but this afternoon, I will pick you up a
few at the store."
Next came the slacks, which she helped me pull up over my
hips. When zipped and buttoned, the slacks fit over my chubby
hips like a glove.
"These slacks fit you much better than your boy's jeans. You
have hips just like a teenage girl." She picked up the white
nurses shoes and began lacing them up onto my feet. She noticed
my blushing embarrassed look and took my hand.
"Don't be embarrassed dear. All members of this family have
big hips. There's no real difference between boys jeans and
junior jeans, except in the hip area. You really should wear
what's comfortable. Don't you agree that you do fit better in
these slacks?"
I nodded my head. She stepped behind me and put her hands on
my hips.
"See, they hug your hips smoothly, but also fit your smaller
waist. Boy's jeans are the same width from the hips up. Your own
pants are tight in the hips and baggy in the waist. You even told
me yourself."
She took me by the hand and led me over to her dressing
table. After a bit of hair spray, some work with a curling iron,
and some powder and blush for my cheeks (to absorb oil and
prevent acne she said), she pronounced me ready for work. We
climbed into the car, and drove me to the office promising to
pick me up by 5:00 PM.

CHAPTER IV - FINALLY WORKING
When Dr. Nelson arrived, she immediately complemented me on
my uniform and overall dress. She told me that my aunt had done a
great job with me, and that I looked very professional for my
first day of work. I commented that I thought I looked too
feminine, but she reassured me that all medical office help
dressed this way. She said that it calmed the patients. She even
complemented me on my camisole indicating that it looked more
stylish than girlish.
Soon I was busy at work, greeting patients, sorting files,
and stuffing envelopes with bills. By the end of the day, I had
already become a functional part of the office staff. All of the
secretaries and other nurses agreed that I was a perfect addition
to the office. The good news was that by the end of the day, I
was on a first name basis with everyone. The bad news was that
the chief secretary had introduced me as Chrissy to a patient,
and the name stuck. After trying to straighten out the mistake, I
finally gave in, and started introducing myself as Chrissy.
My regime of vitamin taking continued. By this time, Dr.
Nelson had taken over my therapy, and along with administering
the shots, advised continuation with the pills.
Things were also changing at Aunt Clara's house. When I got
home from work, I would change out of my uniform, and help Aunty
cook dinner. Then after washing the dishes, my aunt would
manicure my nails (to make sure they were presentable to the
public).
"Dirty chipped nails are not sanitary in a doctor's office"
she said, and would spend 1/2 hour per night removing cuticles,
filing nails, and applying two coats of clear nail polish as a
protector. I kept my nails long on account of my step mother's
attempts to stop my nail biting, so by the end of the week, my
nails were as long any woman's.
When I asked Aunt Clara to cut them, she forbid me to touch
my nails because I would surely mess them up, and told me she
would cut them in time. "Besides" she said, "office girls need
long nails to work with all that paper. You do want them to
consider you to be one of the girls don't you?" As a result, my
long nails stayed.

CHAPTER V - FROM BOY TO GIRL
That Sunday night offered the first inkling that my aunt was
trying to change me into a girl. All week, I had been wearing my
Lanz night shirt to bed, and lately had noticed that the flannel
felt weird against my shaved skin. The cotton really itched, and
I couldn't get to sleep. I complained to my aunt about it, and on
Wednesday, she bought me some pink cotton panties, hoping that
the soft cotton would reduce the irritation. It didn't work. They
felt too much like my boy's underpants.
By Sunday night, my aunt had lost all patience with me. My
tossing and turning all week had kept my aunt from getting a good
night sleep, and my her domineering attitude had returned in
spades. After a thorough bath, leg shaving, and powdering, she
sat me down in my panties and nightgown and began to work on my
nails. That's when the problems started.
"Did you get the clear polish that I asked you to pick up
when you went to the d**g store?." She stopped filing and looked
up at me.
I looked at her blankly and responded "What polish? You only
told me to get Kleenex and Shampoo." After last night's dinner,
my aunt had sent me to the local d**g store.
"I told you to get clear polish for your nails. I used the
last of it yesterday, and told you to pick up some more. How did
you forget?" I sensed that she was getting angry.
"I'm sorry aunty. I didn't mean to forget. I'll walk over
tomorrow after work to pick some up."
"So what am I suppose to put on your nails tonight, dearie?
Unreal! Sometimes boys can be so stupid!" She looked up at me
with disgust.
"Well, nothing I guess. Tonight we can skip the polish and
I'll be extra careful not to break a nail." I sensed that I had
better find a way to quickly end this argument.

"And ruin a week's worth of my work? You really are stupid.
I'm not going to let you out of this chair until you have a coat
on those nails."
A sinister smirk crossed her face. "I guess I'll have to use
Pink." She reached for a bottle of Marvelous Mauve polish and
grabbed my hand.
"Please aunty, I'll be the laughingstock of the office. I
can't wear pink. Please!"
"Pink will match your beautiful new pink blouse I bought you
this afternoon. A femme boy like you will love it. It has lace
around the collar and is very see through. All the women will be
able to see your new camisole!. You'll be so pretty when you go
to work on Monday! Now hold still or I'll send you to work in a
dress."
She locked my hand to the table, and soon, all ten
fingernails and toe nails were painted a beautiful shade of pink.
When they were dry, she sent me up to my room to get ready for
bed.
Then things got worse. That evening, my cotton nightgown
really felt uncomfortable. For some reason, my breasts were very
sensitive. Perhaps it was due to the extra-close shaving that my
aunt performed on my body, or perhaps I was upset over the
feminine manicure. I kept tossing and turning and couldn't fall
asleep.
After yelling at me three times to quiet down, Aunt Clara
finally lost her temper. Turning on the lights, she stormed into
the room.
"Well sissy boy. Don't like your night shirt hmm? Well
perhaps nightshirts are too masculine for sissies like you!"
She jerked me out of bed onto the floor. Off came the Lanz,
and cotton panties. Leaving me naked, she stormed back to her
room with my night clothes. Soon she returned.
"If you're going to whine like a girl, then I'm going to
treat you just like a ***********. Put this on for aunty,
precious."
She held out a mound of pink satin. When I held it up, I
realized it was a pink baby doll nighty with matching ruffled
rhumba panties just like ***********s would wear.
"Put these on first." She threw a pair of plain, pink satin
girl's panties, and a pair of pink, shimmery tights into my face.
"Please aunty, I promise I'll be good. Just bring back my
night shirt" I begged her to give me another chance.
"You're giving me so much trouble that I think I'll send you
to work tomorrow in a dress. Just like a little sissy." She
smiled at the tears running down my face.
"Ok. Ok. Please not that. I'll do as you say." I ran over to
the bed, and quickly donned the panties and tights.
"Now, pull the lacy panties up over the tights. Aren't they
precious honey? So feminine for such a pretty ***********." She
picked up the rhumba panties from the bed and handed them to me.
I immediately pulled them over my tights. Next, she picked up the
nighty and dropped it over my head. As usual, she had picked my
size, and the puffed sleeves hung perfectly over my body.
"Such a pretty little princess. You look just like a fairy.
From now on, this is how you will dress after dinner to get your
nails done. Tomorrow, I am even going to buy you new baby dolls,
so you never have to wear those awful night shirts again. Now go
to bed little one. Give aunty a kissy." She walked out of the
room, and turned out the lights.
The next morning, Aunty allowed me to dress myself in the
usual panties, white tights, and girdle. As promised, I kept my
pink nails, which did indeed match my new blouse and matching
pink camisole. Aunty said that she bought me a pink camisole
because she didn't want my lingerie to show under the blouse. The
material was so sheer however, that I knew everyone could easily
see the lace trim and satin bow on the front. Luckily the day
proceeded uneventfully. All of my fellow secretaries commented
how nice my nails looked, and how impressed they were that I
wanted my nail color to match my new blouse. I figured that they
would object to having a boy dress in such a feminine manner, but
they told me that they appreciated my aunt's efforts to make me
fit in with the rest of the staff.

CHAPTER VI - FAIRY FOR A WEEK
The rest of the week flew by. Every day, my aunt would drop
me off at the doctor's office, and would pick me up after work.
On Friday, my feminization really shifted into first gear. When
I was cleaning up my desk at the end of the day, Dr. Nelson told
me that Aunt Clara had called, and had asked her to drive me
home. Aunty told Dr. Nelson that she was entertaining a friend
and couldn't come to pick me up. I grabbed my new purse that my
aunt had bought for me to hold my powder and climbed into Dr.
Nelson's car.
On the ride home, I really felt grown up. Dr. Nelson told me
how much the other secretaries liked having me as an office
assistant. She told me that initially, she wasn't sure how well I
was going to fit in with the all-girl office, but after seeing me
work, she was happy to see how much effort I expended to get
along with everyone. She told me that "the girls" especially
liked the new additions to my wardrobe, and they all hoped that I
would continue to wear such pretty clothes with my uniform
slacks.
"The girls are very conscientious about their appearance"
Dr. Nelson said, "and were concerned that you might clash with
their clothes." From these comments, I could only assume that I
was really becoming one of the girls. Instead of feeling
embarrassed about my pink nails and see through blouse like last
night, I now felt proud about how well I was getting along with
my co-workers. Not proud enough though, to meet my Aunt's friend
dressed in such a feminine manner.
When Dr. Nelson dropped me at the end of the driveway, I
quietly entered the house through the back door, and crept
upstairs. I changed into the single pair of ill-fitting boy's
jeans, and my old gray sweatshirt, and proceeded to wash off the
makeup, that made me look so much like a girl. I headed
downstairs for supper.
When I rounded the corner into the dining room, I couldn't
believe what I saw. There, on the dining room table, amidst the
coffee cups and raspberry danish crumbs lay my rhumba panties,
tights and baby doll nighty.
"Well look who's home from work. Our own fairy princess.
Chrissy dear, say hello to Mrs. Morgan. I was just showing her
your pretty panties, tights and nighty, and telling her how much
you love dressing up like a cute ***********. Isn't that right?"
I couldn't respond. I was shocked that my Aunt would betray
my confidence to the outside world.
"Mrs. Morgan is putting on a play at the girl's club, and
her head fairy is sick. I'll bet you'd love to take her place!"
All I could do was shake my head. My mouth was frozen shut. How
could this be happening?
Mrs. Morgan got a doubtful look on her face. "Gee Clara,
Chrissy does appear to be the right size, but I honestly don't
think he would look anything like a girl."
My aunt smiled and quickly responded. "Well, why don't you
see for yourself. I am sure Chrissy would love to model her
pretty new things. She always did want to go to modeling school."
"Aunty, please no." My eyes pleaded for leniency from my
Aunt's strange sense of humor. Unfortunately, Mrs. Morgan seemed
to warm to the idea of seeing a boy dressed up as a girl.
"Clara, what a great idea. I would love to see Chrissy
dressed in her baby doll and panties. Can I give you a hand?"
My aunt grabbed my hand and started to lead me up the stairs
to the bedroom. "Grab Chrissy's undies, and lets get started."
Mrs. Morgan picked up the panties, tights, and nighty, and the
two women herded me upstairs.
I tried to fight them as they dragged me toward the bedroom,
but the two women were much stronger than I. By the time I got to
my Aunt's bedroom, I had no strength left in my body. Mrs. Morgan
pulled the sweatshirt over my head, while Aunt Clara, unbuttoned
my jeans, and pulled my underpants down to my ankles. By this
time the sweatshirt was over my head, holding my arms from
moving. Someone pushed me down onto my back, and in one fell
swoop, I was naked on the bed.
"I'm going to throw these boy's clothes in the trash
compactor. Since I dressed him last night, I'll let you have the
honors tonight." My aunt headed down the stairs carrying the last
tie to my masculine life. Considering the circumstances, I
decided to plead for clemency.
"Please Mrs. Morgan. I'm so embarrassed. Just tell Aunty
that I am the wrong size, and let me go. Please? Can't you
understand how humiliating it is to wear these things?" I pointed
to the pile of satin in her hands. Suddenly, this hateful look
crossed her face.
"Of course. That's why I want to take part in making you
Aunty's pretty little princess. I already know that you'll fit
into Melissa's costume, but I've always wanted to dress a boy as
a girl. Now I have the perfect opportunity to do as I wish with
my own **********! And let me tell you sister, if you think that
this is bad, you just wait. You think you'll just be able to wear
your costume over your jeans? Guess again. I am going to do
everything I can to make you into a proper ***********. Just wait
'till dress rehearsal. You do know why they call it dress
rehearsal don't you?!"
I shook my head.
Well you'll find out soon enough. Now then, unless you want
me to tell your aunt to send you to work in a dress, I would
suggest we get started." She picked up the plain panties, knelt
in front of me, and held open the waist. "Let's see how Chrissy
puts on her satiny panties."
Resigned to my fate, I lifted my shaved leg, and pointed my
toe toward the floor. Mrs. Morgan put the opening, first under my
right foot and then under my left, slid the panties up my legs,
and covered my private parts.
"See dear. Don't these feel so pretty? Much better than
those nasty briefs. Now, lets get your tights." She picked up the
pink Danskins.
"Oooh, shimmery tights. Aunty really knows how to make her
********** pretty." She rolled the toe of the stockings over my
feet, and carefully pulled them up over my bottom.
As the tights reached my waist, my aunt reentered the
bedroom.
"Doesn't he make an adorable niece?" my aunt gushed as she
surveyed her nephew, once again clad in panties and pink tights.
"Absolutely. You know you were right. This IS much better
than having a daughter." She picked up the lacy, rhumba panties,
and held them up to my aunt.
"Where on earth did you get these? They are so adorable? I
didn't think that anyone sold these anymore." Not waiting for an
answer, she pulled them over my tights before my aunt could
respond.
"The Proper Princess in Santa Clara of course. The
proprietors are a couple of elderly women who remember just how
prettily girls dressed back in the sixties. They have factories
in the Orient that make old fashioned petticoats, rhumba panties,
bouffant slips, girdles, garter belts and sweater bras, all for
girls from 5 - teen. Of course, they also stock things for
special boys like Chrissy. You should see some of the Nylon party
dresses that they have in the shop. Chrissy would look great in a
party dress. I even saw some satin, sanitary napkin belts for
teenagers there. Talk about sugar and spice and everything nice!"
Without looking up from the task of adjusting the fit of my
lacy overpanty, Mrs. Morgan continued with the conversation.
"Wow. You don't see those things around much any more. I
always thought belted napkins were much more feminine than those
stick in kind. Did you buy Chrissy one? She might be having her
period soon!" Both women burst out laughing.
"No not yet. I think it is still too early for Chrissy to
make the transition from c***dhood to young womanhood. All in due
time thought. I did tell them about Chrissy, and they thought
that having a nephew who really wanted to be a niece was divine.
They told me to bring our Chrissy in anytime to start building a
wardrobe suitable for an ***************."
By this time, Mrs. Morgan had lowered the baby doll over my
head, and was fluffing my hair.
"Well, are you going to take her shopping?" I looked up in
horror, waiting for the answer that might determine my future
fate.
"Well, maybe. It depends on whether or not Chrissy behaves
himself." Aunty looked at her friend. "See, didn't I tell you
that Chrissy would make a perfect pixie."
Mrs. Morgan looked at me and spun me around to get a good
look at my new clothes. "Chrissy. I never would have believed it,
but you look absolutely exquisite. Just like a ************
girl." She reinforced my humiliation by patting my panty clad
bottom. I felt sick to my stomach, and slumped onto the bed.
Mrs. Morgan went on.
"Let me tell you about the production dear." She sat down
next to me on the bed. "I am the director of a play being staged
by the Carlisle Academy Girls Theater Company. It's called "The
Fairy Princess in Pixieland", and it's all about this ***********
who dreams that she travels to the land of Pixies, and is changed
into a fairy princess. The play opens in one week, and one of our
head pixies has come down with a dreadful case of stomach flu.
The problem is that we have already ordered all of the costumes,
and none of the stand ins are the right size. I happened to
mention our little problem to your aunt, and she mentioned how
much you enjoyed your school theater group, and how much you'd
love to join our little production. And guess what? You really
ARE the perfect size for the costume. Now I know that we have an
all girls theater company, but you shouldn't have any trouble.
After all, in your nighty, you really do look just like one of
the girls."
She continued. "Now the part is real easy. There are no
lines to memorize or anything. All you have to do is sit there,
and smile pretty. You'll even get to wear stage makeup like a
grownup!" She seemed to enjoy the fact that I couldn't blush more
if I tried.
On one hand, I really wanted to say yes, but would be
mortified to go out in front of people dressed like that.
Besides, I was so angry over this intentional humiliation at the
hands of my aunt, I had no intention on cooperating. I took two
deep breaths, and responded.
"Thank you Mrs. Morgan, but I don't think so. I have to wear
these pajamas because I am allergic to the cotton nightshirts
that my mom bought for me. I don't really want to be one of the
girls." Things were proceeding so fast, that I was terrified that
this "one of the girls" thing was getting too far out of hand.
Suddenly my aunt dropped a bombshell. "Well dear, if you
aren't one of the girls, then why are you wearing pink nail
polish? Perhaps you'd also like to show Mrs. Morgan your new
panty girdle." She turned to Mrs. Morgan. "How many boys do you
know who wear teen panty girdles? He even asked if we could go
shopping for a training bra."
Aunt Clara surveyed my satin-clad body. "Perhaps we should.
Do you think he is ready for his first bra? He's only eleven you
know!"
Mrs. Morgan looked at my aunt and smiled. "Clara, you really
are still living in the sixties. A training bra is very
appropriate for an ***************. Some girls in our theater
troupe who wear them are only *************. Now then how about
it Chrissy? Do you really want to go shopping for your first bra,
and be in our production?"
Darn! I forgot that my nails were still pink from last
night's session. It was obvious that this was a set up and that I
couldn't get out of this mess. Sensing victory, my aunt didn't
wait for me to respond.
"Of course Chrissy would love to be in your play. When does
rehearsal start?" She shot a triumphant look in my direction.
Mrs. Morgan turned to me and held my hands. "Marvelous.
Final rehearsals start on Monday at 6:00 PM. I'll bring over the
costume tomorrow afternoon to see if any alterations are
necessary. Otherwise, have her there at 6:00 on Monday." Mrs.
Morgan's face was beaming.
"As far as a bra goes, we'll have to see how developed
Chrissy is when I bring the costume over for her to try." Mrs.
Morgan winked at my aunt, and began gathering up her things.
I tried to muster as much masculine determination as
possible. "I am not a her, and I don't need a bra!" I stood up
and crossed my hands in front of me in an attempt to hide my
feminine fingernails.
"Let us be the judge of that young lady." Both women
giggled. "We can't have your boobies bouncing around under your
pixie costume, now can we?" The giggles turned to laughter as
both women headed for the door.
As Aunt Clara bid Mrs. Morgan good-bye, I sat back in the
chair, too weary to contemplate my latest humiliation.
"I'm not doing it. I am not a girl, and I don't like being
called one. Who do you think I am? Your niece? Get real!" I
turned away with disgust.
"Enough of that impertinence young lady. Let's get something
straight." She grabbed my chin tightly in her hand, and looked me
straight in the eyes. "If I tell you that you are a girl, then
you will be a girl!. I can easily send photos of you in your
nighty to your mother, or your friends at school. I can dress you
in skirts, and send you out for a quart of milk. What I say goes,
and you'd better do EXACTLY as I say. Otherwise, I'm going to
make this 1000 times worse for you!"
She released my chin, and sat down on the bed. "I told Jane
that you would help her out, and you are going to follow through
on that promise.
What choice did I have? I already knew how much she enjoyed
humiliating me. If I refused the part, she would make sure that
everyone knew that I was a sissy boy, a femme, or a fairy. If I
did go along, I might be able to keep this humiliating summer
under wraps. Besides, despite what Mrs. Morgan threatened,
costumes did go over your original clothes, and I probably could
wear my boy's underpants and socks to cement my status in front
of these other girls. Aunty would HAVE to go along with that.
And the bra stories? Probably just designed to scare me into
going along with the deal. What did I have to put in a bra
anyway?
"all right, I agree. But as long as you promise to cool the
girl stuff from now on!"
"Of course dearest, your the sweetest!" She kissed me on the
forehead. "I'll even let you wear your nightshirt tonight,
instead of your baby doll. See, I know that you want to be
Aunty's little man." She strode over to the closet, opened the
door, and lifted my nightshirt out of the laundry basket.
"Oh, I'm sorry Chrissy. I didn't wash your nightshirt. You
don't mind wearing your baby doll to bed do you? I promise to
wash it tomorrow." She kissed me again and hugged me to her body.
Mrs. Morgan 'the bitch' was gone, and the sweet, loving mother
figure had returned. She was being so sweet and all, that I
totally believed her words.
"No aunty. I don't mind." Besides, the nylon did feel much
better than the cotton.
"Perfect. Now go brush your teeth, and I'll see you in the
morning. You'll have to find something to keep you busy tomorrow.
I have a long report to write for work on Monday, and I can't be
disturbed. Now I suggest that you hit the sack. It's really
getting late."
After I brushed my teeth, she led me over to my bed, and
tucked in the covers around me. "Isn't Mrs. Morgan nice?" she
exclaimed as she turned out the lights.
As I closed my eyes, I said to myself "Yeah. Mrs. Morgan is
perfect....as a witch." Secretly, I was enjoying the opportunity
to fulfill many c***dhood fantasies about becoming a girl, but my
transformation was proceeding along much too fast. I hoped that
soon, things would get better, and this girlish stuff would slow
down. I didn't know how wrong I was.


CHAPTER 7 - THE COSTUME
Due to all the stress of the previous evening's activities,
I hoped to sleep past my usual weekend wake up time of 9:00 AM.
Unfortunately, I didn't count on my aunt's plans. At 7:00, my
aunt breezed into my room, pulled up the shades, leaving me
blinking in the strong sun.
"Wake up dearest. Today's costume fitting day! Mrs. Morgan
just called and came up with a great idea. She suggested that you
attend this weekend's afternoon rehearsals to get a feel for your
part. Since I have work to do, Mrs. Morgan suggested that you
could stay with her for the weekend, and she would take you to
the theater. Isn't that sweet of her?"
"Indubitably." I tried to muster as much sarcasm as
possible. Somehow I knew that this would not be as simple as a
lift to rehearsal, but I didn't see that I had much choice in the
matter.
She pulled off my covers and headed for the bathroom. "I'll
run your bath, and while your in the tub, I'll lay out your
clothes. Mrs. Morgan lent you some boyish slacks and shirts that
belonged to her daughter. I told her about your chubby hips, and
she thought that these would fit you instead of buying brand new
clothes. I'll leave your undies on the chair."
Resigned to my fate, I took off the baby doll, panties, and
tights, and after putting them in the laundry basket, I grabbed a
fresh towel and headed for the bathroom. As I hung up the towel
next to the hot, steaming tub, I noticed the usual pink nylon
panties, and one of my girdles. Instead of tights and a camisole,
I found the girl's satin vest that I tried on during my first day
at work, and a pair of white, opaque, shiny knee high stockings.
I turned toward the door, and yelled down the hall
"Aunty, where are my tights and camisole, and how come I
have to wear these other things?"
My aunt poked her head into the bathroom. "Because silly. In
Dr. Nelson's office, you have to fit in with a group that is much
older than yourself. At Sunday's rehearsal, you be with girls who
are younger just like you. Besides, Mrs. Morgan sent them along
with the slacks and shirts. Now hurry up. Mrs. Morgan is
expecting you in 3/4 of an hour. Make sure you shave your legs
too. They are getting stubbly. Don't bother with your hair. You
don't have time this morning."
I didn't see any stubble, but did as I was told anyway. In
fifteen minutes, I quickly completed my bath, took care of my
legs and underarms, and quickly rinsed off the suds from the
bubble bath. I hopped out of the tub, dried my smooth body,
dusted myself with bath powder, applied deodorant, and slid on
the undergarments laying on the dressing bench. I hurried into my
aunt's bedroom.
There on the bed, lay a pair of pale blue stirrup pants, a
soft pullover sweater and a lavender blouse with buttons on the
front. I pulled on the pants, pulled the stirrup under my feet,
buttoned up my blouse, and pulled on my sweater. My aunt combed
my hair with a part in the middle, and after a few dabs of facial
powder, we were ready to go. We hopped in the car, and drove
across town to Mrs. Morgan's neighborhood. With a kiss on the
face, she dropped me off in front of the house, and drove away as
I rang the bell. Almost as soon as I pushed the doorbell, the
door opened.
"Good morning Chrissy. How did you sleep in your pretty
nighty last night? Do you like the clothes that I dropped off
last night? They fit you marvelously."
I blushed at her comments, and offered a reserved thank you.
If someone else was listening in to this incredible conversation!
I would have melted into the ground.
"Well don't just stand there, come inside. As soon as I get
rid of this coffee, we can get started with the costume. I know
you'll like it since it's much prettier than your baby dolls!"
She closed the door behind me, and led me through the living room
and into the kitchen where she rinsed out her cup.
"You know, your aunt told me all about your wanting to be a
girl. She said that your step-mother found pictures in the family
photo album of you dressed as a girl for a Halloween party when
you were 5. She said that your grandmother use to love making you
pretty. Was that true?"
I couldn't believe that my grandmother had betrayed our
little secret. I also was kind of disappointed that someone else
in my family who had seen the pictures didn't pick up where
grandma left off. In spite of these feelings, I was terrified of
having anything to do with dressing up around an obvious
stranger. I shook my head, and started mumbling about Halloween.
Mrs. Morgan quickly cut in. "Well, I hope that you can learn
to like being a pretty girl because it will be a lot easier on
you if you do. If you choose to fight me on this, it will be 1000
times more humiliating than if you cooperate. Do you want me to
tell all the neighbors the newest pixie is really a fairy little
boy? Hmm? Wouldn't it be a lot easier if everyone thought that
you were just another girl?"
She had a point. I didn't relish the thought of wearing a
tutu, tights and makeup while looking like a boy. I wanted to
avoid attention to get the whole mess over with. The humiliation
of being crossdressed in public was a lot worse than getting the
chance to fulfill my dreams again. Mrs. Morgan's voice
interrupted my train of thought.
"Besides, if you enjoy being made a girl as much as everyone
says, we can have so much fun together this weekend. I've always
wanted to dress a pretty boy as a girl, and you'd make a
perfectly darling new daughter. I promise I won't tell anyone as
long as you tell me not to. It will be our little secret." She
smiled and waited for my answer.
Well, the syrupy sound of her voice worked its magic, and
the soft touch of her hand erased all fear of public exposure.
It brought back all of the fantastic memories of my last visit to
grandma's house six years ago.
"Are you sure that no one else will find out?" I whispered.
"As long as you do exactly as I say, no one will ever find
out. I'll bet you'd love to wear all kinds of makeup wouldn't
you? Did your grandmother put makeup on you?" She picked up my
hand, and looked into my face.
I nodded sheepishly, while a broad smile crept across my
lips.
"Well, if you want, I can put makeup on you too! Well, why
don't we get started making my new daughter pretty." She picked
up my hand and led me upstairs into the master bedroom of the
house.
There were clothes laid out all over the queen sized bed,
and I started to shake when I began to suspect that my new aunty
bought all of these pretty things for me.
"Mrs. Morgan, I thought I was just going to try on a pixie
costume." I pointed to all of the clothes on the bed. "Who are
these pretty things for?"
"Why you dearest." She started unbuttoning my blouse. "First
off, you need the proper underfashions for the pixie costume to
look right. Second, you're going to need something to wear to get
you over to the school for rehearsal. These clothes are much too
boyish for you. You don't want to look boyish do you dear?"
She took my shoes off, and began working on my blouse.
"And since you're my new daughter, you can quit with the
Mrs. Morgan stuff, and call me aunty!"
It was almost like falling down the rabbit hole into a
fantasy world. My new aunty was going to make me pretty, and no
one would know our little secret. She finished with the last
button on the blouse, took it off my shoulders, and pulled down
my stirrup pants.
The tights, panties and vest followed, until I was naked.
Her sweet attitude had totally removed any fear or concern on my
part about what lay ahead for the weekend. I actually loved the
fact that I was standing with no clothes on in front of this
strange woman, awaiting my transition from young man to young
woman.
"Now for this costume, you need special panties. You really
need to wear a girdle to keep you from bulging under the clingy
fabric, but a girdle would show under the short puffy skirt.
That's why I got you something that should keep you all snug down
there."
She picked up a bag, tore open the plastic, and removed a
white, elastic garment from the bag.
"This is called a dance belt." she explained as she held up
the garment in front of my face. The belt looked like a pair of
very-high cut panties without backs. The front was a plain,
heavy, satin-like material, triangular in shape, with light lace
trim around the edge, and a bow at the waist. In the crotch area,
the heavy material narrowed down into a very strong elastic
strap, that went all the way up the back to the waist. The waist
band itself was a similar kind of white elastic strap that sat
low on the hips, but was only 3/4 of an inch in diameter.
She picked up a powder puff, and dusted my private parts to
keep them dry and comfortable. Next, she had me place my legs
through the loops, and pulled the belt up to my thighs. She
reached over to the bed, and picked up what looked like a
sanitary napkin that was much thinner than the ones that I saw in
my mother's bathroom.
"Now I know how excited young boys can get when they get to
wear frills and lace, and we can't have you messing up your
costume now can we? So let aunty put this panty liner into your
belt to keep you nice and clean. Ok?"
Mesmerized, I nodded agreement. She unpeeled the sticky
back, and stuck the liner into the front of the belt. She stood
up, stepped behind me, and worked the belt over my hips while
tucking me into the front of the garment. As she pulled the belt
into place, the back elastic strap disappeared between my cheeks.
"There. Perfect. Next we need tights." She picked up the
package, and removed the stockings. The tights were the standard
shimmery kind, except this time they were powder blue in color.
Since I had been putting on tights for the last two weeks, I took
them from my new aunty, and pulled them up over the dance belt.
"My aren't you an expert! Have you been dressing up in
secret?"
I shook my head. Turning me around, she surveyed the
abbreviated panty line under the tights.
"You know, if I took a picture of you from the waist down,
you'd look just like a girl. I can't even tell you have a pee
pee."
As I looked into the mirror, I could tell that she was
right. My tights and dance belt made my penis totally disappear.
"Now dear, the skirt on the costume is very short, so the
audience will probably be able to see underneath, so we are going
to wear these lacy panties to give them something pretty to look
at! See, these are just like your pink ones that you wear under
your nighty."
These rhumba panties were even more frilly than the ones my
aunt picked out. They were made of what my aunt called taffeta,
and had an inch of soft, net-type ruffles around the leg opening.
Rows of lace were sewed every inch or so across the rear. The
waist band was hidden in the taffeta, while two white bows graced
the hips of the garment.
"What's a petticoat?" I asked as I pulled up the fancy
panties.
"Have you ever worn a half slip dear?"
I shook my head. I knew what a slip was, but I wanted her to
tell me herself. The way she talked to me made me feel just like
her daughter.
"Well, a half slip is just like a nylon skirt with an
elastic waist. It gives you modesty under a sheer skirt to keep
the boys from seeing your legs. It also protects your stockings
and panties from the rough wool or cotton material. A petticoat
is a fluffy slip that helps to hold your skirt out nice and wide
so that you look like a ballerina."
She held up a white skirt of sorts that looked like it was
made of layers and layers of material.
"See? we ordered one with each costume."
The outside layer was a thin, see through, lightweight
tulle, which lay over four alternating layers of taffeta and
nylon net. The outside layer of taffeta had been embroidered with
lace rose flowers which were faintly visible under the tulle. A
large nylon bow accented the front. The edges were all lined
with lace trim.
Mrs. Morgan motioned me to put my arms over my head, and
lowered the petticoat over my head until it hung over my chubby
hips. I looked into the mirror and discovered that she was right.
The edge of my panties did indeed peek out from underneath the
short slip.
Mrs. Morgan walked over to the door, and picked up a garment
bag that had been hanging over the edge. She unzipped the bag,
and removed the most beautiful pixie costume I had ever seen. It
was prettier than anything I ever dreamed about. So pretty in
fact, that I felt woozy just thinking that I would soon be
wearing such a dance dress. The skirt was made of the same light
blue sheer tulle as the outer layer of the petticoat I was now
wearing. It was obvious that my pretty petticoat would show
through the skirt. The bodice of the dress looked like a clingy,
very shiny lycra leotard with sheer sleeves.
Mrs. Morgan unzipped the back of the dress, and took it off
the hanger. Without any prompting, I put my hands over my head.
She guided my hands into the sleeves, and lowered the skirt over
my petticoat. I could barely stop shaking as she zipped up the
back, and adjusted the dress covering my body.
"Oh aunty! It's beautiful. It feels incredible to be wearing
such pretty things! I want to be your daughter forever!"
I pirouetted in front of the three sided mirror and felt the
satiny undergarments sliding over my nylon encased legs. This was
better than anything I had ever imagined.
"You look just like an angel! Your aunt was right that you
would make a perfect pixie! With the right hair style, and
makeup, you'll be the prettiest pixie in the show! Let me look at
you." She sat down on the bed, and made me walk in front of her.
I felt like a fashion model on a runway as I tried to emulate the
steps of a typical female model.
"Do I really look good?" I wanted to hear how pretty I was
over and over again.
"I knew you'd be the right size honey. The costume fits
perfectly. Just think, you will be wearing this costume for dress
rehearsal on Wednesday and Thursday, and for performances on
Friday night, Saturday Afternoon, and evening, and Sunday
Afternoon. Aren't you a lucky duck!"
I stood mesmerized as I stared at my feminine form in the
full length mirror. Here I was, dressed like a pixie, in a
costume that I would have to wear for six whole performances. My
wearing a dress again convinced me that I didn't want to be a boy
anymore, and I was glad that I would be spending a lot of time
over the next week with Mrs. Morgan. Suddenly, I felt her hand
pulling down my back zipper.
"I know you don't want to take off your pretty costume, but
we have to get you dressed and make it to the theater for
rehearsal by three. Take off your things, and hang them up neatly
on the hanger. Leave your dance belt on, and put on these suntan
tights. I'll help you with your leotard.
Mrs. Morgan was right. My costume was so pretty that I
didn't want to take it off, but not wanting to be late, I
carefully removed the dress, petticoat, overpanties and tights,
and hung them on the special hanger. Mrs. Morgan had bought me
dance clothes just for rehearsals, so I shimmied into the suntan
tights, and picked up the black, lycra leotard. Mrs. Morgan
showed me how to roll up the top, step into the panty, and pull
the stretchy material over my hips, and then over my shoulders.
"Here. Put these on." She handed me my navy blue stirrup
pants, and my matching flats. I pulled on the clingy pants over
my tights and looped the stirrup under my foot.
"Let me brush your hair, and we'll be ready to go." She
motioned me over to her dressing table. She brushed and teased my
hair to add fullness to the androgenous style my hair had grown
into, and added the usual blush, powder and lip gloss to my face.
In the mirror, I looked more like a young teenaged girl than the
teenaged boy that I started out as. A couple of sprays of hair
spray, and she pronounced me ready for class.
"I don't know about this. Why can't I just wear my pants and
blouse? I really look like a boy dressed in girl's clothes.
Everyone is going to make fun of me." I really had major concerns
about being seen wearing a leotard by the other girls in the
production. I knew that teenaged girls in the 8th grade still
considered boys to be yucky, and might take offense at my obvious
intrusion into their domain.
"Nonsense. You are just fitting in by dressing like the
other members of the troupe. You know, just like at Dr. Nelson's
office. There is a class dress code of solid color leotards and
suntan tights. If you wear pants, you will really stick out. Mrs.
Cataldo, the teacher, will watch out for you. I promise."
I looked up as she put on her shoes and grabbed her purse.
"Why? Won't you be there?"
"I have to run errands, so I'm going to leave you at
the theater. Just do what Mrs. Cataldo says."
She got up off the bed, and grabbed my purse that was
hanging from the doorknob.
"Here. Take your purse, and let's get going."
We locked up the house, and climbed into the car. Looking
through my purse, I discovered that she had added tissues, lip
gloss, a spare panty liner, and breath mints. I took out a
breath mint, and being careful not to smudge my lip gloss, popped
it into my mouth.

CHAPTER 8 - REHEARSAL WITH THE GIRLS
All kinds of thoughts ran through my head on the drive over
to Carlisle Academy. "What if the girls think I'm weird? What if
I can't play the part? What if someone makes fun of my tights and
leotard?" I had no explanation for being in an all-girl's play or
even wearing girls clothes for that matter. Maybe I could blame
it on my aunt, and elicit some sympathy for my plight. No
solutions came to mind as we pulled into the Carlisle Academy
campus, and parked next to the theater.
"Posture dear" Mrs. Morgan reminded as we entered the
building. "Head up, chin tucked, and hands by your side."
I felt like a girl, walking with my chest and wrists out, and
this only added to the feminine aura that I saw fifteen minutes
before in the mirror.
We walked down the corridor in the front of the building and
entered a small office with Mrs. Cataldo's name on the door. A
woman, who I guessed was the theater teacher, motioned us to sit
down as she finished up her conversation on the telephone. I
perused the walls, and noted the many pictures of girls in
various dance costumes. Some wore plain leotards with see-through
skirts. Others wore ornately decorated leotards with sequins and
lace trim. I started to see if I could find pictures of boy
dancers, but didn't get a chance to look, as Mrs. Cataldo
abruptly finished her phone call.
"This must be Chrissy." Mrs. Cataldo beamed as she looked me
over from head to toe.
Mrs. Morgan responded. "Chrissy, this is Mrs. Cataldo."
Turning to the teacher, she added "Chrissy is so excited about
being a pixie in the play. We tried on the costume this morning
and Chrissy didn't want to take it off. He really looks
adorable."
I was blushing like crazy, and knew that the makeup job only
made the situation more noticeable.
"Well it's great to have him in the show." She turned her
attention to my appearance again. "I am happy to see that you are
observing our class dress code. I'm sure you'll be accepted as
one of the girls in no time."
I liked the whole idea of being a girl, but having never
done it in so public a fashion, I was quite nervous and
embarrassed, and didn't respond to the complement.
Mrs. Cataldo continued. "Well Jane, you can be on your way.
Rehearsal should be done in two hours. We'll see you then."
She turned to me and continued. "Come on Chrissy, lets get
started shall we?" She ushered us out of the office, locking the
door behind her. Waving goodbye to my new mom, I followed Mrs.
Cataldo through a set of double doors into the theater.
The double doors led directly backstage, and I could see
that there were about sixty girls, ranging in age from about ten
to their upper teens. Some had the bodies of pre-pubescent
teenagers, while others were already developing into attractive
young ladies. It was easy to guess ages, since the leotards left
little to the imagination. Most complied with the dress code, but
a few were wearing leotards with bright designs on them, or
shorts and t-shirts over their leotards and tights.
My hopes of blending in with the group were dashed however,
as every eye in the room moved my way. Somehow, I felt naked, and
crossed my arms in front of my chest to cover myself up.
"Just like a girl!" I thought to myself.
Mrs. Carlisle hopped up on a chair, and clapped her hands to
quiet the group. Most eyes were still glancing my way, but now
many of the girls were giggling at the same time. I wanted to
disappear into the floor.
"Attention please girls. Quiet down please. I want to
introduce you to a new member of our troupe, Chrissy Parsomes.
Chrissy will be taking Melinda's place as one of the pixies in
the show. I hope you will make her, I mean him feel welcome."
The whole room burst out into laughter at her use of
pronouns.
"Let's try the dance routine in act three, scene two. Take
your places everyone.
Turning in my direction, she continued to address the cast
members. "Chrissy, you can take off your jeans, and have a seat
on the side to get a feel as to what is going on. Tomorrow, I
want you to try some of the dance steps to get a feel for the
production."
Still blushing like crazy, I walked over to the side and
began removing my jeans. That's when the comments started.
"I guess Mrs. Cataldo is right. I can't tell if he is a boy
or a girl." One of the f******n year olds stared while I took off
my blouse.
Her friend responded "I think he's a girl. He is wearing
makeup. How many boys do you know that wear blusher?"
They all laughed out loud. I don't know if it was possible,
but my ears seemed to be ready to burst into flames. I ignored
the comments, and concentrated on folding up my jeans, and
pulling down my leotard to cover my bottom.
"Look. He doesn't even have a weener. Maybe he had the
operation." I glanced over where the comment came from. This
group of girls all looked around *****************, and all of
them wore bras over well developed figures. Ignoring my glare,
they continued to giggle amongst themselves. I took the nearest
chair, and concentrated on the dance group lining up on stage. I
hoped that Mrs. Cataldo would shield me from any sort of
embarrassing situations, but so far, she had totally ignored my
humiliation.
As the rehearsal progressed, the comments continued, making
fun of my undeveloped figure, my pink nail polish, my girlish
haircut, and shimmery tights. One girl seemed to take exceptional
delight at making fun of me in front of her group.
Sandy looked to be the oldest member of the group. She held
the lead in the play, and had obviously been dancing for many
years. She had a fantastic figure, and sported a feminine
hairstyle and makeup job. She looked just like a model. For some
reason, she seemed to take an instant dislike to me. Every time
she passed my chair, which was often, she let loose with a nasty
comment. She seemed to relish in my humiliation.
"My such a sweet ***********.....What's your name little
girl.....What a pretty leotard Chrissy. Did you pick it out
yourself.....I bet your wearing pretty pink panties under your
tights. Maybe you'll show them to us in the dressing room after
rehearsal." Every comment seemed to be worse than the prior one.
Finally, rehearsal ended, and the girls pranced off the
stage to mop their brows with towels after the strenuous workout,
Sandy decided to get in what I thought was her last jab before
everyone headed home.
"Chrissy dear. Don't you know we have a dress code here?"
She looked at me with a derisive look on her face. Her clique had
gathered around to witness her attack on the new little femme in
the class.
I had already figured out that hiding didn't keep them from
making fun of me, so I decided to stick up for myself. I lifted
my chin, and summoned up the courage to respond.
"Of course. What do you think I am, stupid? What do you
think these are?" I pointed to my tights.
The group laughed. My new found courage didn't seem to be
working. Sandy ignored my response and continued.
"It says on the sign up sheet that all girls who are
developing a figure, are required to wear bras. Where's your bra
sissypants?"
I couldn't believe my ears, as the group burst into loud
laughter. I didn't know what to say. My response was pitiful.
"Boys don't have figures stupid."
"That's why they make training bras dear. For girls with
small boobies like you."
I felt like I was at a comedy routine. The group loved the
show that Sandy was putting on for them. Lost for any reply to
their comments, I was relieved to hear Mrs. Cataldo call for the
group's attention.
"OK girls. Remember, rehearsal starts at 9:00 AM sharp
tomorrow. Make sure your here ready to go. Let's see." She looked
down at a list attached to her clipboard.
"Those of you who haven't paid your costume fees yet, get
them in tomorrow. I have to pay the order bill by Friday. Stop
being cheapskates and cough up." Laughs s**ttered around the
room.
"One more thing. I shouldn't have to remind you about this,
but we do have a dress code here. Shorts, t-shirts and patterned
leotards are not acceptable. I want to see everyone in solid
leotard, and suntan tights girls."
A voice came out of the crowd that sent a shiver up my
spine.
"What about bras Mrs. Cataldo?" I looked across the stage.
There stood Sandy, looking in my direction, with a sick smile on
her face.
"Of course Sandy. Thanks for reminding me. Anyone with a
figure should be wearing a bra under their leotard. Since
everyone here is aged ten and over, you all have figures, and
should all be wearing bras. All good dancers want to look their
best on stage, and you can't look your best if you're jiggling
all over the place. I'll be checking tomorrow, so I want to see
bra straps over everyone's shoulders." A groan sent off across
the stage from the feminists in the group.
"Here it comes I thought" as Sandy inched forward towards
Mrs. Cataldo.
"Well, Chrissy told me that she...I mean he was eleven, and
I think he is pretty developed if you ask me. Why doesn't he have
to wear a bra?"
I'm sure everyone noticed that I immediately covered my
chest with my arms, because everyone, including Mrs. Cataldo was
staring in my direction.
Other girls began to pipe up their support. "Yeah. How come
we have to and he doesn't."
One girl pushed her way forward. "He wanted to join an
all-girls production. I say he has to live by our rules."
By this time, Sandy had walked over to my side of the stage,
and was standing directly in front of me. She poked her finger
into my chest and drove the final nail into my coffin.
"If you want to be a girl so much that you asked for the
most feminine part in our show, then you have to wear a bra!" She
turned and walked back toward Mrs. Cataldo.
Obviously, I was beet-faced, having been totally embarrassed
in front of sixty girls. Even so, I figured that the joke had run
its course. Mrs. Cataldo would laugh, smile, and end the whole
affair by exempting me from that part of the dress code. After
all, I was a guy, and had complied with the leotard, tights and
ballet slippers part. What did I have to put into a bra? I
smiled in her direction.
Mrs. Cataldo laughed, smiled and then dropped the bomb. "Of
course Sandy. You're absolutely right. Chrissy dear, I want to
see you wearing a bra tomorrow." The whole group erupted into
applause. It's almost as if everyone wanted to feminize me.
Despite being scared to death over the impending
developments, I found the necessary voice to respond to the
ridiculous order.
"That's not fair! I don't have a figure! I'm a boy!"
Immediately, comments sprang up from the group along the lines of
"You sure don't look like a boy!"
"Well dear, that's why they make training bras!" The
laughter was impossible to ignore and I was mortified. It's
almost as if Sandy had been talking to Mrs. Cataldo about me.
She stepped down off the chair thus signalling the end of
rehearsal. As the rest of the girls headed for the exits, Mrs.
Cataldo walked over in my direction.
"Please ask your mother to take you shopping tonight to get
you properly fitted. OK?" She picked up her tote bag sitting
beside me and headed out for her office. "I'd suggest choosing
something made of nylon with lace trim to help you feel like a
true pixie!" I gathered my things and ran outside.

CHAPTER 9 - CHRISSY'S FIRST BRA
"What a mess" I thought to myself as I climbed into bed with
the script for the play. I had three hours before lights out to
get familiar with my part before tomorrow's rehearsal. I had
often dreamed about getting fitted for my first brassiere, but
now that the event threatened to become a reality, I was too
embarrassed to go through with it. As a result, I didn't tell
Mrs. Morgan about my need for a bra, and luckily, she didn't find
out about Mrs. Cataldo's order. I figured that no one would
expect me to go through with what had to be a joke, and that
after a few rehearsals, everyone would forget about the whole
incident.
Even so, despite my keeping "the bra thing" a secret from
Mrs. Morgan, I couldn't stop thinking about going to get fitted
for a bra.
Most of the sex ed books that I read in school suggested
that a girl's first bra marked the beginning of her journey from
c***dhood to adult womanhood. A bra was the one garment that
shouted "Young woman" for the whole world to see. I remembered
spending hours following the outline of the bras worn by the
girls in my class. While the white regulation blouses were pretty
opaque in the front, the sheer backs allowed me a perfect view of
the satiny straps and back hooks. Many a day, I daydreamed about
what it would be like to have my mother take me shopping for my
first bra, and having to hook one on every morning before
travelling off to school. Now the opportunity lay open for it to
happen for real, and I was too scared to follow through! I tried
to concentrate on the script that lay in the lap of my baby doll
nighty, but the wetness showing through the panties kept bringing
me back to my old fantasies. Finally, I couldn't stand it any
longer. I put the script on the night table, and headed
downstairs to grab the mail order Catalog. After my aunt had
retired for the night, I sneaked the catalog from under my bed
and turned to the index.
"Let's see.....Bras.....Here it is.....growing girls, page
237.....Juniors, page 239-240.....teens, page 237-238."
I quietly turned to page 237, and consulting the header at
the top of the page.
"Junior Bras and Foundation Garments."
The text continued.
"Be sure to measure sizes carefully, as developing figures
change rapidly. To determine size, measure girl in normal
underwear. Place measuring tape under developing bust. This is
the bra size. Round up to nearest even number.
To determine cup size, place tape over fullest part of the
bust. If the measurement is the same or less than the bra
measurement, she takes a AAA cup. 1/2 to 1 inch larger takes a AA
cup. 1 inch or larger takes an A cup. 2 inches larger takes a B
cup. For proper sizing information, bring your daughter into the
Junior Department for an expert fitting."

I continued down the page to the section marked p*****n /
Growing Girl Bras.
"Designed for the just developing p*****n whose figure is
rapidly changing. Nylon spandex cups adjust to the growing bust
line. Adjustable stretch straps and three hook back closure allow
for perfect fit. Feminine design makes every young girl feel more
grown up!"
I looked down at the pictures. The first looked like one of my
satin vests that had been cut off below the bust. The caption
read
"Bra Look Vest. Soft nylon/cotton blend provides modest
protection and support. Lace edging with satin bow trim. Back
hook closure. Made in Costa Rica. Available in white, pink, and
beige, sizes S M L. #PTBLV. Package of two, $3.95
I continued down the page.
"Nylon Stretch beginner bra. Ideal starter bra for girls
just starting to show. Nylon spandex cups stretch to fit cup
sizes from AAA to A. Lace knit cups, and floral trim let everyone
know that your *********** is growing up! Only available in
white, sizes 28 - 36 AAA - A cup. #PTNSB. Package of 2, $4.95

The next one looked similar to the beginner bra, but had more
material. The caption read
"Support Beginner bra. Perfect for size up girls. Wider
shoulder straps and bottom bands help keep bra in place over
chubby figures. Shirring and cross your heart styling between
cups helps accommodate added bust size. Nylon tricot and spandex.
White only, sizes 34-40 AA. #PTCSBB. Package of 2, $5.50"

The next section described bras for teens.
"Bras for the girl who isn't ready for a full sized bra, but
wants to graduate to grown up styling. Feminine features make her
look just like a modern co-ed!"

These bras looked a lot more like what the girl's in my grade
were wearing. One was a very light weight bra with a single 1/2
inch strap around the back. The bra had natural cups which I
discovered were made of a single thickness of nylon instead of
being padded with fiberfill. It had an inch of floral lace and
the usual bow between the cups. The lace was there to make the
bra fit figure sizes ranging from AA to B. A lot of the liberated
girls at school wore this kind of bra, because it didn't show
much under their clothes. Thus they could meet the dress code
requirement of wearing a bra, while minimizing their acceptance
of this regulation.
The next one was slightly more substantial. It had a wider
band around the bottom that decreased in width from two inches
near the cups to 1/2 an inch near the back hooks. The catalog
called this one a contour cup since it had a layer of fiberfill
lining the cups. The front was cut pretty low, so the bra
wouldn't show under a blouse with an open button, and a small
white lace flower decorated the front. The shoulder straps
adjusted in the back. I guessed that girls would have to have the
sales lady adjust it for them since the ring and slide was out of
reach. It came in sizes from 32 to 36, AA to B.
The third bra seemed to be made for chubby girls. It looked
a lot like my mother's utilitarian underwear, with plain white
nylon contour cups, wide stretch straps that adjusted in front,
and a wide stretchy bottom band that was two inches thick in the
back. I didn't like this one, since it reminded me of crabby
Linda Crawford, the noisiest and biggest breasted girl in my
school. Sure enough, this bra came in sizes from 32 to 42, AA - C
cups.
The last two teen bras that I saw were the prettiest. The
first one looked a lot like the bra mentioned before, except that
it had a normal tapering back to it. It looked like it was made
of a satiny nylon, and was available in very pretty colors; pink,
beige, powder blue, champagne and white. It seemed to be the kind
of bra that an older teenager would wear, right before she
graduated to full sized women's bras. It even had matching
panties with the same kind of lace trim.
The other bra was one of Sears Best. It was very low cut,
and had very thin shoulder straps that adjusted in the front. The
back band had a normal taper to it, but started off at an inch at
the cup, slimming down to less than a half an inch at the hooks.
The cups were very shiny, and were trimmed with narrow scalloping
lace. The styling was very grown up, but the cut was suited to a
young teenager. Suddenly, I wanted to tell Mrs. Morgan about my
needing a bra. I wanted to wear one like all the other girls in
the group. I began to love the idea of developing a bust, and
hoped that someday, Aunty would have me fitted for that very
style. I tucked the catalog under the bed, turned off the light,
and fell asleep with sweet dreams of young girlhood in my head.

CHAPTER 10 - CHRISSY'S PUNISHMENT
The next morning, I woke up at my usual time, and after my
usual bath, dressed quickly in my panties, tights and leotard.
Looking at myself in the mirror, I figured that I might be able
to hide the fact that I wasn't wearing a bra. Looking in Mrs.
Morgan's daughter's closet, I found a loose, cotton blouse that I
put on over my leotard. Luckily it matched with the stirrup
pants, and did a pretty good job of hiding my chest. Since I
wanted to minimize the possibility for hassle at class, I
succeeded in killing time around Mrs. Morgan's house, so that we
arrived at the theater exactly at 9:00 AM. After kissing Mrs.
Morgan goodbye, I hurried into the theater.
Mrs. Cataldo was already there, atop the chair that served
as her speaking platform. I put down my hobo bag, and sat down to
put on my ballet slippers. I removed the stirrup pants, but left
on the blouse, which I ****ted at the waist like I had seen girls
in school do.
No sooner had I finished ****ting the blouse, when Mrs.
Cataldo caught sight of my i*****l attire.
"Now Chrissy. You know better than that. We don't allow
blouses. Take it off, and come show us your new bra!"
I slowly unbuttoned the blouse and tried to figure out a way
to break the news that I didn't have a bra yet.
"Well, Mrs. Cataldo, my mother didn't have time to t.k. m..
sh.p.ing..." By now I was mumbling, hoping that she would fill in
the blanks for me.
"What's that Chrissy? We can't hear you!" The class crowded
around me as I finished unbuttoning the blouse.
"My mother didn't have time to take me shopping yesterday" I
blurted out while carefully examining my pink ballet slippers to
avoid looking anyone in the eye. "I don't have a bra yet"
'Well Chrissy, we don't really want to hear any excuses. You
can't be in rehearsal without a proper bra. I guess you'll have
to sit out rehearsal. How do you think your going to learn your
part for the play if you can't practice!" She shook her head
with disgust.
I felt like a ************ c***d being chewed out by his
first grade teacher.
"I promise I'll work like crazy for the rest of the week.
I'll be sure to get one tomorrow."
At least I'd be able to get through another rehearsal
without such an obviously feminine undergarment.
Suddenly, a girl in a green leotard, with a p*****n figure
and a broad smirk on her face stepped forward.
"I have an extra bra that would probably fit Chrissy!"
Mrs. Cataldo's face lit up like an airport runway. "How
thoughtful of you Sharon. I'm sure Chrissy would love to borrow
it! I know that you do wear the same size."
All I could do was to furiously shake my head.
Suddenly, five other girls volunteered that they too had
extra bras that would probably fit me. Mrs. Cataldo sent them
scurrying off to their hobo bags, and each one returned with a
wispy, nylon undergarment.
Mrs. Cataldo took each of the five bras, and approached my
quivering body.
"Well Chrissy, which one do you like best." I didn't
respond. I was paralyzed.
"I think this one should fit perfectly. Let's go try it on
OK?" She held out one of the growing girl's stretch bras that I
recognized from the Sears Catalog.
"A perfect growing girl's bra for a growing girl's figure"
The class giggled as she turned her attention back to the group.
"Sandy, please take over the class while I attend to Chrissy
here. We'll be right back."
With that, she grabbed me by the hand, ushered me off stage
and down to her office. Once inside, she turned on the lights,
and locked the door.
"Be a good girl and take down your leotard top Chrissy." She
pushed me down onto the stool next to her desk, and shook out the
bra which had been neatly folded into a ball.
The time had come to make a choice. I had been dreaming of
my first bra ever since I first dressed as a girl, and here was
the perfect opportunity to start wearing one. Granted, it was
going to be darn embarrassing to be seen by sixty odd girls
wearing a training bra, but as I gazed at the feminine garment
that dangled in front of my eyes, I began to get more excited
about the idea.
I could say that Mrs. Cataldo forced me into it. It wasn't
my idea. I had to meet the dress code tied to the theater group.
Putting caution to the wind, I nodded to Mrs. Cataldo, who
stepped behind me, and helped me slide my arms out of the shiny
long sleeves of the leotard. Soon, I was naked from the waist up,
while my leotard was gathered around my hips.
"Why didn't you ask Mrs. Morgan to get you a bra? You are
old enough for one dear, and Mrs. Morgan did tell me how much you
wanted her to take you shopping for one." Mrs. Cataldo softly
massaged my shoulders. Almost as if she was teasing me, she
allowed the satin bra which was hanging from her wrist, to brush
across my back. Every caress sent shivers up my spine, reminding
me that soon I would be wearing a training bra full time just
like all the other girls my age.
I shrugged as she continued her massage. "I guess I felt
really embarrassed about asking."
Mrs. Cataldo continued. "That's OK Chrissy. Most girls are
embarrassed when they start developing, and have to start wearing
one. Deep inside though, every girl that I know longs to go
shopping with her mother for her first. I'll bet that you're
excited too?"
How did she know how much I dreamed of this day? I nodded my
head.
"Well I'll tell you what. You can wear this one home when
Mrs. Morgan picks you up. I guarantee that she will notice your
new figure, and will offer to take you shopping. How's that
sound?" She leaned over and looked me in the eye.
"Great!" I said as I tried to stifle the urge to ask to look
at what soon would be covering my boobies. I couldn't believe how
Mrs. Cataldo seemed to be doing everything that she could to help
me through this awkward time in my life.
"I help a lot of my girls pop the bra question to their
mommies this way. That's why we have the dress code that we do."
She slid the bra off of her wrist and pulled out the
shoulder straps to their longest length. With two fingers, she
daintily held it out in front of me by the lengthened straps, and
instructed me to put my arms through both loops. With a deep
breath, I leaned forward and put my hands into the bra.
The feeling was incredible! The straps were made of this
shiny, stretchy, satin material, and they glided over my smooth
arms like an skate blade across ice. Soon, the straps were lying
over my shoulders. Mrs. Cataldo reached in front of me, pulled
the cups down over my breasts, and slid her hands along the
bottom band to the back set of hooks. As she pulled the back
together, I could see and feel the stretch satin cups, edged with
lace, lift and surround my small sized breasts causing them to
actually get bigger. I couldn't believe it. I actually had a
figure like the other *********** girls in the class. It was the
neatest thing, and the feeling was better than anything in the
world. I swore to myself that I would wear a bra every day from
now on.
"A perfect fit Mrs. Cataldo gushed. "Of course these stretch
types do fit young girls with a variety of figures. A lot
different than when I was a young girl." She began adjusting the
shoulder straps' ring and slide.
I looked down at my new figure that was perfectly encased in
nylon, and noticed that it looked just like the chests of the
girl's in the Sears Catalogs. I especially liked the pretty bow
that was sewed on between the cups.
"Do you remember when you got your first bra Mrs. Cataldo" I
asked as I stared at my likeness in the mirror?
She continued to adjust the straps. "Every girl remembers
getting her first bra. Of course I didn't have a fairy god mother
to broach the subject with my mom."
She winked at me as she tugged at the bra.
"I remember telling my mom that my blouses were irritating
my nipples, and asking her what to do about it. She told me that
I was turning into a young woman, and that I should start
training my figure. She took me down to the girl's department at
one of the women's shops downtown, and had me fitted for my first
bra. Back in those days, young women were expected to wear
girdles, garter belts and stockings, so mom bought me everything
that she thought an all-American girl should wear. The sales lady
was so embarrassing, telling me that she was going to make me so
pretty. After picking out an appropriately feminine bra, girdle
and garter belt, she showed me how to put everything on, and how
to attach my new nylons to the belt. To make a long story short
Chrissy, I also ended up getting my first permanent, my first
makeup kit and first sanitary napkin belt all in the same day. I
was so proud when we arrived home that I modelled my new things
for everyone. Mom and I spent all evening trying on my new
things, and playing with my makeup kit. That's how I learned how
much boys wanted bras too!"
"What do you mean" I asked as I looked at her with a
quizzical expression on my face?
She continued adjusting the straps. "Well, when I got home,
my brother who was one year younger than me was really interested
in my new things. He kept asking us lots of questions about why
girls needed bras and girdles, what it felt like to wear
stockings, and if he could have curly hair like mine. My dad was
away on business for the week, so my mom suggested that my
brother let us dress him up to show him what it was like. Mom
called Aunt Jane who lived across town, and they both helped us
into the new bras, girdles, garter belts, stockings and slips
that mom and I had purchased. Aunt Jane did my brother's hair
and taught us both how to put on makeup. After the makeup, my
brother and I looked like two twins. It was a really great
weekend. It did take a couple of weeks to learn how to hook the
bra and garters though. I kept having to ask my mom to hook me up
in the morning. She was as excited as I was about helping her
daughter to become a young woman. All mothers live for that
stuff." She finished with the shoulder straps, gave a quick
look-see, and pronounced me finished.
"How does it feel?" she asked as she helped me back into my
leotard.
"Wow!" I exclaimed as I looked at the new curves that peaked
out under the clingy leotard. The outline of my new bra was very
obvious under the black, lycra fabric, and I felt very grown up
as I traced the straps over the shoulders to the top of the cups.
"Did your brother ever play dress up again?" I asked as she
made sure that my bra straps were hidden under the leotard.
"When mom found out how much Bryan liked dressing up, she
encouraged me to lend him the clothes that I grew out of. Of
course he had to wait a year to wear a bra, but when he turned
thirteen, mom and I took him shopping for his very own bra,
girdle, garter belt, and stockings. After that, we became just
like sisters. We'd come home from school for the weekend, and
after dressing in our bras and girdles, we'd do each other's hair
and makeup. One summer vacation, mom and I even took him down
for a permanent."
"Did he like that?" I asked as we rose for the door.
"I'll say!" Mrs. Cataldo responded as he opened her office
door, and turned out the lights. "Probably as much as you would!"
To top off a fantastic day, rehearsal went better than it
ever had before. After checking to make sure that I was indeed
wearing the bra, all the girls seemed to be satisfied that I had
passed their initiation for joining the group. As a result, the
harassment ceased, and I concentrated on learning my part for the
play.

CHAPTER 10 - BUYING MY FIRST BRA
When rehearsal ended, I put on my pants, and following Mrs.
Cataldo's advice, left off the blouse that I wore that morning. I
packed up my hobo bag, and walked out to the parking lot with the
other girls. Mrs. Morgan was waiting in her car, and when I got
into the car, she immediately noticed that something was
different from this morning.
"Chrissy dear, did you forget something?"
"No why do you ask?" I asked nonchalantly.
"There's something different about you."
"I was so hot, I didn't put my blouse on after rehearsal."
It was tough not to blurt out that of course I was different
since I wasn't a *********** any more.
"No, it's something else. You look.....older. More mature. I
can't quite figure it out."
I looked at her with a stumped expression. How could she
miss the outline? Maybe I was going to have to ask her to take me
shopping anyway. I pulled back my shoulders to make the bra stand
out, but she failed to see any change in my physical
characteristics.
Arriving home, I entered the house before her, and she
finally noticed the back of my bra silhouetted under the leotard.

"Hang on. Come here for a minute."
I quickly turned around with a grin on my face.
"What's wrong?"
I walked over to where she was standing in the hallway. She
laid down her bag and brushed her hand down my back. A broad
smile ran across her face, and she reached out and touched my
breasts with her finger. A very pleasurable sensation ran down my
spine.
"Your wearing a bra!" she exclaimed, as I smiled in response
to her complement.
"Uh huh" I smiled. "Mrs. Cataldo told me that it was part of
the dress code. I was suppose to tell you yesterday, but I
forgot. This morning, Mrs. Cataldo insisted on me being properly
dressed, so she borrowed one from this girl in my class. How do I
look?"
I tried to turn to show her my new figure from all angles.
Mrs. Morgan stepped back and surveyed my new self. "You
look marvelous! You really have developed into a young lady. You
actually have a bust! Come here and look in the mirror."
She pulled me in front of the mirror that hung behind the
hall closet door and pulled down the top of my leotard.
I couldn't believe it. She was right. Originally, I thought
that my figure came from the bra that I was wearing. Looking now,
I could see that I had begun to develop curves like a teenaged
girl. Small, yet distinctive nipples could be seen through the
clingy fabric of the training bra.
"How can I have a bust. That's only for girls!?"
Mrs. Morgan looked at me and shook her head. "Well dear,
some boys actually have more girl in them than boy. When they
reach puberty, these boys begin to look, act and feel like girls.
The doctor at your new school told your step mother that you were
one of these kind of boys, and that she should have you spend the
summer with your aunt to see how things work out."
She traced the strap with her finger from the top of the cup
over my shoulder and continued her explanation.
"Your aunt told me how much you wanted to be a girl. Soon,
you'll get your wish. You're going to look just like a girl, so
obviously you can't go running around like a boy. People will
talk. So, your aunt and I are going to help you learn to be a
girl until you decide if you want to get medical help to try to
become a boy again. We felt that this would be the easiest way
for you. Don't you agree?"
I was so excited that I hugged Mrs. Morgan as hard as I
could.
Mrs. Morgan seemed to share my enthusiasm. "First things
first. This bra is a bit small for your figure. You really have
to be properly fitted. Otherwise, your bra will be
uncomfortable, and you won't wear it. You obviously need a bra
dear. You can't go walking around sticking out like you were
this morning. It isn't ladylike.
She walked over to the telephone and picked up the receiver.
"Let's call your aunt, and see what she thinks!" Mrs. Morgan
dialed my aunt's number.
"Hello Clara. This is Jane calling. Yes the costume fits
perfectly. She looks like an absolute angel. Blue is most
certainly her color."
I loved the way my new mother was calling me by a feminine
pronoun.
"No, no alterations will be needed. One thing though, have
you noticed that your niece is quite developed?"
I couldn't make out my aunt's responses, so I just listened
with my hands folded in my lap.
She continued. "Uhhuh.....Yes, quite a lot for her age. I
would say a double A......Oh yes.....The clingy fabric does
emphasize her bust. You can really see her nipples.....Of course.
I agree.....I'll take her down to get fitted this afternoon
before we go to Monica's.....Where?.....Well, I haven't shopped
for training bras since I was twelve.....Mmhmm. I'll call Alison
Schmidtt's mother. Yes, she works in the clothing business
....Alison.....One of the other pixies in the show.....Ok I'm
sure we'll manage.....Bye bye."
Mrs. Morgan hung up the phone, and immediately dialed
another call. I didn't pay any attention to the number, since I
was too busy trying to think what kind of bra Mrs. Morgan would
buy for me.
My aunt's voice woke me up from my day dream.
"Alison? Hi. This is Mrs. Morgan. Is your mother in dear?"
Mrs. Morgan didn't look at me, but softly rubbed my nylon encased
thighs with her hands.
"Nancy. Hi. This is Jane Morgan. How are things?
.....Great.....Oh really? That's very special.....Yes Alison is
doing a perfect job in the play. We're very happy with her
performance."
"Nancy, the reason I'm calling is that my niece Christine is
visiting from New York, and has decided to join our production.
Well we just tried on her pixie costume, and it's obvious that
this girl needs a bra.....Yes, quite developed for an eleven year
old.....Anyway, I figured that you might know where we can get
her properly fitted.....Umhmm.....Sears and Penneys?.....What
about a lingerie shop?.....Too small?..... Hmm.....Really?.....I
would have sworn the girl's shop in the strip mall would have a
great selection.....No dice hmm?.....Well fine.....What's
that?..... That would be wonderful!.....Great. we'll see you in
about fifteen minutes....Yes, she certainly is very
excited.....What? Who should I call?.....OK.....No problem." My
aunt blew a kiss in my direction.
"Great. Thanks again for your help. Bye bye." She hung up
the phone, and turning towards me, she pulled down the shoulders
of my leotard exposing my borrowed training bra.
"Guess what?" she exclaimed.
To excited to talk, I waited for her response.
"Mrs. Schmidtt has an appointment to get Alison fitted for a
bra too this afternoon, and she offered to take us along. Isn't
that great"
"Wow" I thought to myself. "I'll be able to see what's
going to happen to me before it happens." Besides, I thought
Alison was one of the cuter members of the theater troupe, and
the opportunity to see her in a bra, overcame any embarrassment
about being seen in one myself."
She continued. "The only thing to do is to get dressed, and
Why don't you go upstairs and take off your dance clothes. Put on
your panties and white stockings, and I'll be up to help you get
dressed. I have to call the store." She winked in my direction.
"Call me when you are ready." She handed me my vest, my pair of
white knee highs, and a pair of girl's flats and I headed into
her bedroom.
I carefully removed my leotard, bra and tights, and put on
my vest and kneehighs. My feet fit perfectly into the blue
leather shoes. They felt weird, almost like I was wearing
sandals. I grabbed her bathrobe from behind the door, and headed
back to the kitchen to ask her what to wear.
When I reached the top of the stairs, I could overhear Mrs.
Morgan talking on the phone, and I couldn't believe what she was
saying.
"Sandy, this is Jane Morgan calling. I'm a friend of Nancy
Schmidtts, and I hope you can help me....I have a special little
miss named Chrissy staying with me for the weekend. Chrissy is my
best friend's son. My friend caught him dressing up in his
sister's clothes, and she decided to have him dress as a girl as
punishment. You know, pinafore punishment? Anyway, my sister
asked me to really reinforce the experience, and what better way
than to have him fitted for a bra. Nancy said that you would be
fitting Alison this afternoon and might able to accommodate our
little priss at the same time."
I noticed that Mrs. Morgan was smiling something fierce.
"Great.....Yes.....Yes that would be perfect. Just make sure
that you treat him just like an *************** girl.....Great.
I'll see you in a half hour." She hung up the phone, and headed
back upstairs.
Without a sound, I tip-toed back into the bedroom, and put
my dance stuff away in my bureau. Although I was excited about my
first bra fitting, turning into a girl, and seeing Alison in a
bra and slip, I knew that I wasn't being punished for dressing up
in girl's clothes. This whole thing wasn't my fault, right? I
should probably speak up, and question her grasp of the facts.
Thinking better of this route, I decided to make believe
that I didn't overhear the conversation, and play along with the
routine.
"All right now. We have to get you dressed." Aunty entered
the room and walked over to the bed.
"Take off my robe, and put this on." She handed me a girl's
full slip.
"Yes mom." I could tell it was a girl's slip because it
didn't have much room for a bra in the top. Although I had never
worn a full slip before, I figured it was just like putting on my
nightgown. I put my arms through the satin ribbon straps, and
lowered it over my body. My aunt adjusted the shoulder straps so
that the slip hung evenly just above my knees.
"Now you have to get your hair trimmed in a style
appropriate for a pixie. You and Alison both have an appointment
to get your hair done at 4:00. First though, we have to get you
fitted for your bra. Now I can't bring a boy into the girl's
fitting room, so you'll have to dress as a girl for the
afternoon. You're going to have to make the change soon, so you
might as well start today. You shouldn't have any trouble."
She picked up a pink girl's polyester blouse and after
pulling my arms through the sleeves, began buttoning up the
front.
"But mom. I've never gone out in public as a girl before.
Everyone will find out that I'm a boy dressed like a girl." My
aunt finished buttoning the blouse, and lowered a blue, pleated
jumper over my head.
"Don't worry your silly little head. You make a perfect
girl, if you only do what I tell you. No one will know the
difference." She zipped and buttoned the back of the jumper, and
secured the shoulder sashes to the buttons on the front of the
skirt. She sat me down at her dressing table, dabbed my cheeks
with a bit of blush and powder, and applied a coating of lip
gloss to my lips "to make them wet and kissable" like all the
other girls my age. A few pumps of hair spray, and a bit of
teasing, turned my femme boy face into the perfect depiction of a
p*****n girl.
"So far, how does it feel to be starting on the journey to
becoming a young lady?"
"Great!" I beamed. With that, she handed me a purse, and we
headed into town.

CHAPTER 11 - CHRISSY GETS A BUST
As the car hurdled down the highway, a zillion things were
going through my mind. First off, I hadn't worn a skirt since the
Halloween party at my grandmother's house, and the feeling of
wearing this short jumper was very different from the girl's
slacks that I was use to. The blouse, slip and panties were shiny
and very slippery, so every movement caused the clothes to tickle
my skin. In addition, girl's blouses were kind of thin, so the
top of my slip showed through the fabric. Looking in the mirror,
I looked like a ***********, but after my trip to the beauty
salon, and a new bra, I hoped that I would look like any other
teenager.
Second, I had no idea what to expect at the hairdresser.
Back when I was five, I had asked my grandmother about her weekly
trip to Melissa's Beauty Salon. I had already had my hair cut at
a men's barbershop, and knew that her hair looked a lot different
than mine. Hers smelled like perfume, had lots of curls, and
stayed in place no matter what she did. Mine was straight, got
all mussed up in the wind, and smelled like my dad's aftershave.
She told me that Melissa's salon made people pretty, and did
special things to girls my age who wanted to be pretty. I told
her that I wanted to be pretty just like at Halloween, and asked
her if I could have my hair done like hers. She and my mother
both laughed, and told me if I was good, that someday they might
make an appointment for me.
Alas, my grandmother died soon after, and my mother was
never home long enough to take me. I had asked my dad about it,
and he told me that boys weren't suppose to be pretty, and that
mother would never take me to such a place. Now here I was,
sitting in a car, and all my wishes were coming true.





















=======

From: nostrumo@nienor.IN-Berlin.DE (Nostrumo)

Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.tg

Subject: Repost TG: The Surprise Vacation by an unknown author and
Tristmegistus (1/6)




The Surprise Vacation

by an unknown author and Tristmegistus

1. Chapter - Innocent Beginnings

"Did you take your vitamin, dear?" Ellen called from the bathroom.

I rubbed sleep from my eyes and picked up the pill bottle, rolling a big
tablet into my palm. "My horse pill? I'm doing it now."

"Have you noticed any difference yet?"

"Nah. Vitamins are pretty much all alike." She'd gone on a minor health
kick a month before, insisting that I needed to lose a little weight and
take better care of myself. I hadn't actually made it to the gym to work
out like she was though.

"Where's my underwear honey?" I asked my wife, poking through my almost
empty drawer. It was Saturday morning. I had noticed that my underwear
had been disappearing from my drawer over the last couple of weeks. I
thought nothing of it, figuring that she'd simply been too busy to do
laundry.

"Something went wrong with the washing machine and it ruined everything
in the last load," she said.

"Well, what am I going to wear?"

She emerged from the bathroom, dipped into her side of the dresser.
"Here, put these on," she smiled, handing me a pair of her pink satin
panties. "Now don't give me any fake macho bullshit. I know you love
wearing my panties. In fact, I know you've secretly worn this very pair
before."

I looked at her dumfounded. I thought that I'd successfully hidden my
fetish from her. I'd been so careful.

"C'mon, let's put these on you,"she teased. I was beet red as I numbly
stepped into them and let her pull them up to my hips. She stroked my cock
through the fabric, a lot like I often did. "Mmmm, I see that someone
finds this exiting. We may have to keep it like that." I wasn't sure what
she meant by that remark, but was too embarrassed to ask. I hurriedly put
the rest of my clothes on, jeans and a T-shirt. She gave me a slightly
disapproving look and said, "Well, I need take you shopping and get some
new underwear for you, among other things."

I said, "Can't you just pick up some for me? I want to look at that
washing machine and watch the football game."

Since she absolutely despises football, this would normally have set her
off on a tirade, but surprisingly, she just smiled sweetly and said, "Don't
worry about the washer. I fixed it myself. Go ahead and enjoy your
football honey. I'll get everything you need."

So while she was shopping, I lay on the couch stroking myself through
the panties, embarrassed that my wife knew of my fetish, but relieved that
she seemed so low key about it. The game turned out to be pretty boring
and I thought about raiding her closet for something else to wear, but now
that she knew, I couldn't bring myself to do it. Instead, I ended up
taking a nap. I woke up when she came home, loaded with bags from various
stores. I started to get up to help.

"Just stay there, I'll put everything away. What do you say that we go
out for dinner?"

"That sounds like a good idea."

"Great. But first, I have a surprise for you. Stand up and close your
eyes." I remembered that teasing look, that flirtatious tone. We hadn't
played sex games in a long time. In fact, we hadn't done anything sexual
in a long time. With a smile, I stood and did as she asked. The next
thing I knew, she pulled my hands behind my back and locked them with a
pair of handcuffs!

"What's this all about?"

"No comments from the peanut gallery," she said as she put some sort of
gag in my mouth.

Whatever it was filled up my whole mouth, all the way to the top of my
throat! As I explored it with my tongue, I realized that it was a penis
gag. What was going on?

"Now come along peacefully, or I'll have to take further steps." With
that I followed her into the bathroom. She took my hands and tied a strap
to them and pulled it up to the shower curtain, forcing me to bend over at
the waist. She then took a pair of scissors and proceeded to cut my
clothes off, ruining jeans I could have just stepped out of. It was all
pretty kinky, even for Ellen's sometimes bizarre moods, but except for the
embarrassment of having something shaped like a penis in my mouth, it
seemed harmless.

"You won't be needing those anymore," she said, tossing the rags that
had been my jeans and tee-shirt down the laundry chute.

She then took some shaving cream and a razor and proceeded to shave
every bit of hair below my eyebrows. I definitely didn't like the turn
things were taking, but fighting her while she stroked my most private
parts didn't seem like a good idea - and there wasn't a whole lot I

could do about it, anyway.

"I think that since you like wearing panties so much, you should have
the experience of everything else that goes along with it," she explained
as she worked over my underarms. "You'll find that all of your old clothes
have been replaced with something more suitable for your new station. I
think that about does it. Step in the shower and let's rinse you off."

There was nothing I could do except slide the strap down the bar and
step under the water. I was bewildered. Surely she hadn't really thrown
out all my clothes! As she rinsed all of the hairy soap off of my body, my
skin felt strange, tingly and oddly alive. She spent more time on my
weirdly naked penis, making it swell again. She patted me dry all over
with a big, soft towel and spread skin conditioner all over me, dwelling on
my semi-hard penis.

"Well that looks much better, but we'll have to do something about your
figure. That waistline will never do. You haven't been losing enough
weight, darling. Follow me and we'll take care of it."

As we walked into the bedroom, I saw some clothes laid out on the bed.
There was a corset, panties, stockings, and a short dress. She began to
put the corset on me, and said, "Your arms are in the way." With that, she
reached into one of the bags and pulled out a leather collar. She then put
some leather cuffs on my wrists, unlocked the metal ones, and quickly
hooked my hands behind my head to the collar.

This was starting to get too weird. Our sex games had died out a year
or so before. I'd known she was curious about bondage and stuff, but had
laid down the law and said no. I tried to talk around the thing in my
mouth, but she ignored me. I was able to offer only token

resistance as my arms were asleep and numb from being pulled up and back
for so long. Next, she started hooking up the corset and pulling the laces
in behind me. Soon I couldn't breathe and still she was tightening the
laces.

"Is that uncomfortable? Too bad. It'll give you incentive to lose that
extra weight you've been ignoring, won't it?" With a final savage jerk, she
finished adjusting the laces with a full ****. "I think you'll have an
interesting time trying to untie that by yourself."

I silently agreed. It was more like being in a straight jacket than
lingerie. But there was an illicit thrill to it, despite my deepening
worry that she was going way too far with her fun.

"Now let's put some panties on you. Which pair would you like? You
don't care? That's no way for a lady to show interest in her appearance. I
guess we'll try this new pair of pink satin ones I bought you. Now you
don't have to steal mine, love. Oh, my! You really look cute in them."

Next came a set of latex breast forms which she teasingly placed in the
corset's half cups to fill out my chest. After that she rolled some
stockings up each leg, hooked them to the garters on the corset, and
smoothed them out. She quickly admired her work while I tried not to, too
embarrassed for words, even if the gag hadn't been in my mouth.

"Let's see how this dress I picked out for you fits." With that she
picked up a shimmery peach colored dress and worked it over the tangle of
my head and arms. As it fell over my breasts and hips it came down to only
mid-thigh.

She looked at me with a grin on her face and said, "Don't you look
adorable! You'll have to be very careful and ladylike when you sit or bend
over or the world will see your garters and panties. Only a slut would act
like that. If you act like a slut, I'll have to treat you like one."

What did she mean by 'the world will see you?' I didn't like the
implications in that statement.

"Step into these shoes," she said with the air of command, as she placed
a pair of matching peach shoes with about a 3-1/2 in heel on the floor.

I'd rarely dared to play with her high heels. They were a little too
tight, but the real reason I usually avoided them was because they awoke in
me a shame powerful enough to counterbalance the excitement of cross
dressing. I found it was tremendously difficult to keep my balance with my
hands fastened behind my neck.

"Now it's time for your makeup. I'm going to remove the gag, but I
don't want to hear a single word or I'll put it back in and leave it there
for a whole day." Ellen gave me a look that indicated she clearly meant it.

Well, I figured, we've gone this far, so why fight it. Besides,
cosmetics were another thing I'd never had the guts to try, and I'd often
fantasized about how I'd look. She spent the next thirty minutes
completing my makeup, going through foundation, eyeshadow, eyeliner, and
mascara, adding a light blush, and finishing with a bright, deep rose
lipstick. She topped it off with a light brown shoulder length wig.

"Now you can look at yourself," she said as she led me to a mirror.

I couldn't believe it! A beautiful girl looked back at me. If she was
alone in a bar, every guy in there would hit on her. The dress had a
scooped front almost to my breast forms, which were ample. It also showed
a very flattering figure. No wonder I couldn't breathe. Looking at the
reflection in the mirror, the hemline seemed even shorter, at least six
inches above my knees.

I heard a soft "click." I turned around, and my wife was taking pictures
of me!

"You can't admire yourself all day, sweetie. We've got a busy afternoon
and evening ahead of us."

My heart sank. She was really going to force me to go out dressed like
this! I started to speak, wanting to talk her out of it, but she picked up
the cock-shaped gag and moved ominously toward me. I shut up. With that,
my wife changed into a plain dress and fluffed her hair, not even bothering
to use any makeup on herself, which was unusual. She noted my confusion
and said, "I don't want to steal any of the attention you deserve, honey."

She clipped a leash to my collar and led me to the garage. As she
opened the passenger door, I began to fight her. "Honey what are you
trying to -"

She pushed me off balance, which wasn't hard, and stuffed the gag back
in my mouth, immediately strapped it behind my head. "I warned you! Now
you'll have to pay the price for disobedience!" She pushed me again and I
fell into the passenger seat. She buckled the seat belt.

Bound as I was, with my hands behind my head, there was no way I could
do anything but go along.

As she drove us away, she said, "I know you're dying of curiosity,
sweetie, wondering what this is all about. It's simple really. I noticed
about six months ago that my clothes and lingerie had been rearranged
almost every time you're home and I'm not. I started carefully marking my
hangers and drawers to confirm my suspicions, and I can name every time you
snuck into something sexy and even tell you what you wore. Really, I don't
mind, honey. In fact, it really turns me on. So I'm going to make sure
that you live your fantasy to the fullest. It's really perfect, because MY
fantasy is to dominate my husband completely and I'm going to act that out,
too."

I couldn't believe it! She must have caught on almost the very first
time I gave in to the impulse to see if silky feminine clothes felt as
wonderful as they looked. Well, the first time since I was a k**, anyway.

"I've arranged for you to take a two week surprise vacation starting
Monday. Your boss thinks that we're going on a cruise." She giggled. "In
a way, we are, aren't we? For the next two weeks, you're going to live
entirely as a female and follow my every command. If you give me

any shit at all, I'll send those pictures of you admiring yourself to
your boss and secretary. I think they'd get a good laugh from them, don't
you? To get you ready for our little adventure, we're going to the mall to
do some shopping for your vacation."

I kept hoping it was all a joke. That any moment she'd turn the car
around, laughing at how she'd scared me, and we'd play for a while in bed,
then it'd be over. But my guts were cold. I couldn't talk myself into
believing it'd happen that way. I knew she was dead serious. As we pulled
into the mall parking lot she said, "In case you're having any thoughts
about running away, remember that you don't have any car keys, wallet or
money. If you don't do exactly as I say, I'll leave you here to get back
on your own."

She was right! Trying to get home without her, dressed like this,
wasn't an option. I couldn't even think of hitchhiking. Cold sweat popped
out on my brow as I realized that I was stuck. I had to do what she said.
I didn't even want to think of what her plans were.

2. Chapter - The Mall

I was terrified. There I was, tied into my car seat, dressed as a woman
from high heels to wig, with my wrists handcuffed to a leather collar
around my neck, for all the world to see. And my wife had driven me to the
shopping mall to shop for clothes to complete my wardrobe. I wanted to cry
out in frustration and terror, but there was a penis-shaped gag buried in
my throat. The excitement I'd felt at home was long gone.

After she stopped the car in the parking lot, she turned to me and
unlocked the collar, cuffs, and removed the gag from my mouth. "Now, can I
trust you to behave in here, or will I have to really embarrass you? And
by behave I mean do everything I say without question."

With a numb feeling in my stomach I said, "Yes honey, I'll be good."

"Wonderful! I know we're going to have a marvelous time."

With that, she made me fix the lipstick the gag had smeared, and showed
me how to powder my sweaty forehead. We got out of the car and walked into
the mall. The heels caused my hips to sway noticeably. I did my best to
minimize it.

She looked at me with a grin and said, "My, aren't we calling attention
to ourselves!" and laughed merrily. "Our first stop is at the beauty
parlor. We don't have that much time, so today we'll just touch up your
makeup and do your nails. Your hair can wait until tomorrow. I've already
made an appointment for you."

The voyage through the crowded mall was tremendously humiliating. I
kept waiting for someone to recognize me, or see through the disguise my
wife had applied and sneer at a man in a short dress and makeup. It was
almost a relief to near the beauty shop. While I didn't draw any

of the disgusted looks I was afraid of, I got way too much attention,
and the appreciative smiles were almost worse than mockery would have been.

We walked into the parlor, and she talked to the receptionist. "Hello.
I called earlier for a 'special appointment' for Sheila."

A pretty brunette overheard and approached. "Hi! I'm Cindy and
everything is ready. Follow me please." She led us past the filled
stations into a back room. "Please have a seat here." I looked at the
chair and then my wife with some misgivings.

"SIT DOWN! You heard what the lady said!" my wife commanded and shoved
me into the chair. Before I could recover, she pulled two velcro lined
straps out of her purse and quickly strapped my arms to the armrests,
rendering me completely helpless. "Now sit there quietly, or I'll have to
take further steps."

The stylist was trying, though not very hard, to cover a big smirk on
her face.

"Go ahead and start on her. I don't think she'll give you any trouble.
How long do you think this will take?"

"For everything you asked for, about an hour and a half."

"Good, I'll be back then. I've got some shopping to do. If she gives
you any trouble, feel free to take whatever action you think is
appropriate." She then walked out of the store, leaving me alone with the
stylist.

"You aren't going to make any trouble, are you?" she teased.

I shook my head no, not trusting my voice. Sounding like a man would've
been too embarrassing, and I'd feel like a fool if I tried a false woman's
voice.

"Too bad. I think I'd enjoy disciplining and humiliating you. You're
obviously into it. Maybe I should see if my boyfriend would look as good
as you do dressed up."

That definitely made me decide not to resist - as if I could have
anyway. I did my best to ignore her flattery, too. The last thing I wanted
to do was look too much like a woman.

"Debbie here is going to do your nails, and I'll be giving you a light
makeover. Your lady friend made a separate appointment for your hair for
tomorrow." She turned her attention to my face and began working me over as
Debbie began my nails.

Sixty minutes later, she was still working on my face, and Debbie had
mockingly told me to remove my hose so she could do my toenails. The bands
around my wrists made that impossible, of course, and I cringed as the girl
touched me and did it herself. I kept my eyes closed, unable to face the
changes being made to me. The worst part was having my eyebrows plucked
into shape. How could I hide that when the "vacation" was over?

"This is a 'light' makeover?" I wondered to Cindy in a safe whisper,
trying to joke. "How long does it take for a complete job?" I really
didn't want to know.

At that moment my wife walked in with a shopping bag. "How are we
coming? Oh, she looks just darling!" she said as she grinned at me. She
then bent over and admired my bright red toenails. Confirming that Debbie
was finished, she rolled my hose part way up and began digging

through a huge shopping bag.

"What are you doing, honey?" I asked in a meek, gender neutral voice.

"Oh, I didn't think that those shoes were flattering enough, so I
dropped into the Wild Pair to find you something prettier. I know you're
just dying to wear them, but with that corset on I don't imagine you can
bend over far enough to strap them on."

That was an understatement! While I'd gotten used to taking shallow
breaths in the corset, there was no way I could bend that far down. I
couldn't see what the shoes looked like from the angle I was sitting in the
chair, but I could tell they had a much higher heel than the other set.

"There!" Cindy announced proudly. "That about finishes you. How are
you coming, Debbie?"

"Just a few minutes to let the last coat dry." After about five very
uncomfortable minutes of listening to girl talk, she said, "That about does
it. Let's stand up and have a look at you."

My wife then removed the velcro straps, freeing me from the chair. I
stood up and almost fell. I looked down at my shoes. They were a pair of
cream ankle straps with at least a five inch heel. I could barely stand in
them. It was amazing what a difference an inch and a half made. I then
looked in the mirror, for the first time, and almost didn't recognize
myself. The person standing there was a short, truly beautiful, entirely
feminine woman staring back at me with wide,

shocked, expertly made up eyes! Her skin looked perfectly smooth and
her lips were strikingly highlighted. I reflexively raised my hands to my
face, not believing what I was seeing, and then noticed my nails. One full
inch long and a deep liquid red - exactly the color of my skillfully
painted lips and toes.

My wife smiled approvingly at me and said, "Don't they look lovely,
Sheila?"

"Y ... Yes," I stammered, too shocked to lie. "They're beautiful. I
can't believe it!"

As she paid Cindy and we turned to go, she said, "By the way, I asked
her to use a permanent set on the nails. You won't be able to remove
them."

I looked down at my hands in shock. How could you hide nails like that?
What would I do at the end of the two weeks? I knew enough about it to
realize that even if I cut them off, they'd be unnaturally thick.

"Let's go, Sheila, we've got plenty still to do. Now it's time for some
clothes shopping. With a gorgeous bod and sexy face like you have, we have
to get you some 'hot' outfits to match."

I slowly emerged from my state of shock, and wished I hadn't. I was
drawing even more attention now. The way men were staring at me left no
doubt as to their thoughts. I stayed as close to Ellen as I could as she
slowly toured store fronts.

Our first stop was "The Body Shop." My wife had me try on countless
outfits in the dressing room. It was sheer torture, climbing into and out
of one revealing outfit after another. I was horrified of being recognized
and arrested for this perversion. She ended up picking out a short black
leather skirt with matching bustier, and a white satin minidress with a
deeply scooped neckline. Then she made me pay for the items with my
American Express Card - with my real name on it! The sales clerk gave me a
shocked look and then a big smirk. My face turned beet red from
embarrassment. My slim hand shook as I tried to grip the pen and sign the
sales slip with my too long nails.

We went from store to store for about two more endless hours. I must
have tried on forty outfits and purchased at least a dozen. My ribs were
killing me from the constant pressure of the corset and my feet ached from
walking and standing in those incredible heels.

"Here we go. One last stop," my wife said as we turned into another
boutique. "Why don't you have a seat for a couple of minutes."

She didn't have to tell me twice. I was exhausted. I sat in the chair
she indicated, relieved to get a load off of my feet. I carefully smoothed
my hemline as I sat down (I'd learned this lesson the hard way through some
embarrassing comments and looks from other shoppers). I was so tired, I
didn't know what store I was in, and really didn't care. I let my eyes
close.

One of the clerks came up behind me and said, "Just sit still now."
There was a sudden, intense burning sensation in my right ear. My eyes
leapt open, and I tried to get up. She held my head firmly with one hand
and said, "Just a few seconds. Hold still." The sharp pain was

repeated in the other ear. She then rubbed both with some alcohol and
fiddled with each ear for a few seconds. "There, that does it. You can
get up now."

I stood up and looked in the mirror. She had pierced my ears and placed
a little gold ball in each of them! What would I do at the at the end of
two weeks? Those holes in my ears were going to take a long time to heal
over.

"Okay, that finishes us here. It's time for us to go home and get ready
to go out tonight."

With that, we walked back towards the car - slowly, because I was forced
to take such mincing steps in the tall shoes.

As we got into the car I turned and said, "Honey, this is ridiculous.
Look at my hands! I can't -"

She slapped me hard on the cheek, staggering me. She immediately pulled
out a pair of handcuffs, put them on me, and secured them behind me to the
headrest, making me completely helpless.

"I can see that you need a lesson to show you that I mean business.
When I'm finished with you, you're going to beg me to dress you up, take
you out, and make you look as pretty and sexy as possible! We both know
that you've secretly dreamed about this. Well it's happening and there's
not a damned thing you can do to stop it! The sooner you realize that
you're no longer in control of what happens to you, the happier you'll be!"

"But honey," I whined, "don't you think that this's a little -"

She rammed the gag back in my mouth. "What were you saying dear? I
didn't catch it? Oh well, I guess it wasn't very important."

We pulled away from the mall with me helpless in the passenger seat,
thankful that the tinted windows offered me a little protection from casual
observation.

As I began to look around me I realized that this was not the way home.
Where was she taking me now?

She noticed me squirming and looking around and said, "Don't know where
we're going? Well, as much as you deserve to be humiliated more in public,
that'll have to wait. I just have to pick something up."

My relief quickly turned to chagrin as we stopped and I looked at where
we were. It was a shop entitled "Exotic Leather Goods."

"I need to grab a few things to ensure that you learn your lesson
properly. Don't do anything naughty while I'm gone."

So there I was, tied into the passenger seat for any passers by to see,
trapped in a feminine appearance and clothing with an artificial penis
filling my mouth. Now that we'd stopped, the tinted windows weren't nearly
dark enough.

Suddenly, I saw a man approaching, walking towards the car. He was
casually looking at each of them as he passed by. Would he notice me
through the window? My heart was racing a mile a minute. Just as it
looked as if he would pass right by, he stopped and did a double take. HE
SAW ME! He stood there looking in the window for at least a full minute
with a big grin on his face while I tried to become invisible. Just about
that time my wife came up to the car with a bag in her hand.

"Enjoying the view?" she casually asked the man.

"Sure am, honey," he replied with a leer. "Do you always keep her tied
up like that?" He thought I was a real woman!

"She prefers it that way," my wife laughed. "She's my display model.
Feel free to look all you want, but don't touch."

The man kept up his lewd stare while Ellen loaded her purchases. He
waved gaily, still laughing, as he walked away. With that she got in
started the car. As she drove us home, she said, "I was planning to take
you out for a nice dinner and dancing tonight, but you obviously

don't deserve a reward like that yet. So, instead I'm going to teach
you a lesson in obedience. When I'm through with you, you'll beg me to
dress you up in sexy outfits so you can show off."

brother, was I in trouble. I was afraid to even think of what my
"lesson" would be. I was sure that it would not be pleasant, but I knew
there was no way she could make good on her promise that I'd want her to
expose me publicly.

Finally, we pulled into the garage. My wife leaned over and connected
my wrist cuffs to the collar. After that she disconnected my hands from
the headrest, giving me no chance to get free. She then reached into her
big purse, pulled out a leash, and connected it to the collar. Getting her
bag, my wife got out of the car and came around to my door. I still could
not move because I was strapped in by the seat belt. She unhooked it and
gave a tug on the leash.

"Come along now, Sheila," she ordered as we walked into the house. We
stopped in the kitchen.

"The first thing we need to work on is this tendency of yours to talk
back and question everything I say. After all, I can't keep that gag in
your mouth all the time. Unless, of course, you like the feel of something
shaped like a cock in your throat."

I shook my head violently.

"Well then, you need to show me that you can behave. Believe me, I hate
keeping that beautiful mouth of yours gagged all the time. There are so
many better uses for it."

Having said that she pulled what looked like a leather sleeve with some
laces running down the length out of the bag of things she'd just bought.
She then walked out of the room for a few seconds and returned with several
pieces of rope. She unlocked the wrist cuffs and had me

put my hands behind my back. She then secured them with the hands
facing.

Next, she picked up the sleeve and slid it up my arms, securing it with
some straps in front of my shoulder, guaranteeing that it would not come
off. Then she began tightening the laces, straightening my arms and
pulling my elbows together until they were about four inches apart.

It hurt like hell and forced me to pull my shoulders back and arch my
back to accommodate the position of my arms. My arms and shoulders began
to ache almost immediately.

"My, aren't you the brazen little slut!" she laughed as she looked at
me. I had to admit that the way my back was arched did throw out my chest,
emphasizing my big breasts. Next, she took a long length of rope, tied it
to a ring on the sleeve below my hands and ran it to a hook in the ceiling.
That ring! She'd had me put that in the ceiling last week to hold a heavy
planter. How long had she been planning this? A tug on the rope brought
me back to the present. As she pulled on the rope, it forced me to bend at
the waist while she pulled my arms towards the ceiling. Tying the rope off
onto a doorknob, she commented, "There, that should keep you. Comfy?"

Hardly! I was still in those ridiculous heels and this position forced
all of my weight onto my toes, which were already in agony. Adding to
this, the bent over position made the corset so tight that I was gasping
for breath in tiny pants. I felt like I was going to pass out.

The next thing I knew she was pulling my dress up over my waist,
exposing my pantied bottom. Then she pulled the panties down around my
ankles.

"Are you ready for your first punishment?"

I had no way to say no, of course.

She fumbled around in the bag. When I looked, she had pulled out a
leather paddle. There was no doubt what her intended target was. Bound as
I was, there was also not a single thing that I could do about it.

SMACK! She connected right on my bare ass with a stinging blow. "I
think that fifty good ones is about right for talking back to your
mistress, don't you?"

SMACK! She continued. After about twenty, I lost all control and was
crying like a baby. Each stroke seemed to sting more than the one before
it. Finally, she reached fifty. My entire behind felt like it was on
fire. She then pulled the panties up and pulled my hem down again.

"That was just your first punishment. I told you that you would never
forget this lesson. I'll be back in a little while. I'm going to take a
shower and rest a bit. My arms are tired. Don't go anywhere."

Her arms were tired! At my ass and thigh's expense! I stood there,
miserably bent over, dreading the next punishment, and wondering what it
would be.

3. Chapter - Punishment

I'm sure my wife was gone no more than an hour, but it felt like days. I
was trapped there, standing on my cramping toes in those tall high heels,
bent forward at the waist, exposing my swat-inflamed, pink pantied rear
under the hem of my short peach dress. My eyes burned

from sweat and tear-dissolved makeup that'd run into them while she
spanked me with the heavy leather paddle. I could barely breathe because
of the way I was tied and tight corset cinching my waist into nothingness.
There was nothing for me to do but suffer and ruminate on my situation.

I was trapped by more than my agonizing posture. She'd taken pictures
of me and threatened to give them to my boss and secretary if I gave her
any trouble for the next two weeks of my surprise vacation. She'd made me
watch her drop them off at a fifty-minute photo place at the

mall, and I was positive she had the prints hidden somewhere I'd never
find them. All because I'd secretly tried on her panties and a few other
clothes a couple of times! Okay, to tell the truth, it was more than a
couple of times. Now, she was determined to turn me into Sheila, a sexy
little crossdresser who'd beg to be allowed to go out dancing so she could
be seen and admired!

A dizzy wave of pain made me start crying again. I suddenly stiffened.
What if that wasn't all she wanted to make me do? What if she was trying
to do more than show off my cute ass and pouty red mouth? She'd already
called me 'slut' a couple of times. What if she meant it?

I almost fainted. I had to end this before it went any further. She'd
promised me still more punishment, and I didn't think I could take any
more. Maybe, if I acted the way she wanted, she'd relent. More
importantly, if I cooperated, there was sure to be a chance to catch her
off guard and escape before any real damage was done.

By the time I finally heard the door open, I was in such total agony
that thinking of ways to escape my feminization was the last thing on my
mind. I'd have done anything simply to be allowed to stand up straight. I
was dizzy from the unending struggle to breathe. My legs

were cramped into fiery pillars of pain. I tried to sob out around the
penis gag what was supposed to be her name.

"Well, well," she drawled from behind me, "don't you look sexy! How's
that nice little ass feel now, Sheila? Still hot and pink as your
panties?"

I heard her walking across the vinyl floor until she was right behind
me. Between my quivering legs, I saw that she'd changed into some shoes I'd
never seen before. The black high heels must have been six inches tall and
were tipped with narrow metal spikes. Her ankles were

covered in black mesh hose. I jumped when I felt her hand on my ass,
then tried to stand very still for whatever she was going to do. She
petted me between my cheeks.

"Is it too tender, darling? Oh, dear. It's hard to answer me with that
nasty gag in your mouth, isn't it?"

I nodded frantically.

"Will you be a good girl if I take it out?"

I nodded so hard that time that I almost dislocated my shoulders.

I gasped the instant the thing slid out of my dried lips. I wanted to
scream at her to turn me loose. Instead, I croaked out, "Thank you."

"Why you're quite welcome, dear. Would you like to stand up?"

"Please!" My voice shook wildly.

"One little thing, and I'll loosen the rope." I heard her dig through
the bag of things she'd bought and wondered what my next torture was. She
tugged my panties down and ran a finger lubricated with something cold and
slick over my exposed asshole. Then, she eased the finger inside me. It hurt like hell, but what could I do? If I screamed or
protested, she'd do it anyway and leave me tied in this bent forward
position - or something worse. I gritted my teeth and endured as best as I
could.

She wiggled the finger inside me and ran it in and out a couple of
times. Cold sweat again popped out all over me, but there was a strange
heat, also. When she pulled her hand away, I thought she was finished.
Then I felt something cold and hard being pressed into me,

something much fatter than a finger. It spread me so wide I thought I
was going to have to scream, then narrowed, letting my sphincter muscle
clamp around it.

"Very good, honey. In case you're wondering, that's your very own butt
plug. I'm sure it's painful, but you'll get used to it. I expect you to
wear it at all times unless I tell you otherwise. Is that clear?"

I nodded jerkily.

"Say it!"

"Yes," I choked out. "I understand."

When she unhooked the rope from the doorknob and let me stand, I
staggered and almost collapsed. Even the tiny breathing space the tight
corset gave me felt wonderful. I gasped as deep lungfuls of air as I
could. I barely noticed her loosening the long leather sleeve laced up my
arms, locking my elbows together, but I was sure aware of the added freedom
and the lessening torture.

She had to help me to a chair, holding me by my wrists, still cuffed
behind my back. I hissed when I sat, both from tender ass cheeks and the
suddenly more noticeable discomfort of the thing buried in my ass.

Until then, I hadn't looked at her, and what I saw shocked and
frightened me. She looked nothing at all like my wife! She was wearing a
shiny, form-fitting black latex bodysuit that looked

something like wildly cut one piece swimwear. There was a seam down the
middle decorated with silver studs. The outfit made her nipples stand out
and was buried in the valley between her pussy lips. The stiletto heels
made her much taller than I was, even in the five inch heels I wore. Her
eyes were made up in a way that reminded me of Cleopatra, with immense
lashes and eyeliner and silver eye shadow drawn out almost to her temples.
Her lips were a deep, deep red that made

her teeth look too white. "Oh dear, you look terrible! Have you been
ruining your makeup by crying?"

I nodded, shocked by her appearance. I heard myself whine, "It hurt."

"It was supposed to," she said like she was explaining something obvious
to a c***d. "And that was nothing compared to what I'll do if you start
misbehaving again." She tied my bound wrists to the chair and brought me
some water. I sipped thirstily until I noticed how badly I had to pee.
It'd been a long time since I'd used the toilet. And about then the blood
flowing through my arms began to tingle, then burn, hurting almost as badly
as being tied had.

"It'll pass," she said with a grin.

"Can I use the bathroom? Please?"

"Soon. But first we've got to get you looking pretty again. Do you
know how much the makeover you ruined cost?"

So she led me back to the bedroom. I couldn't help noticing how the
butt plug made me walk even more enticingly than I had merely in the high
heels. Was there no end to my humiliation? I had to endure another
eternal thirty minutes at her vanity before I was allowed to pee - sitting
down, of course, with my wife standing there impatiently. I couldn't help
but sigh my relief as yet more room was made for me to breathe. As I stood
for her to pull my panties up, I was amazed that I felt almost comfortable
in the corset and heels.

"Such a sexy smile," she observed, tucking my penis back between my
legs. Her fingers lingered there. Her incredibly lush, wet lips hovered
inches from mine, and I felt myself begin to harden in her hand. "Do you
feel good, love?"

"A little," I confessed, reminding myself that I had to go along with
her mad game.

"Don't you feel pretty?"

"Kind of."

"Pretty enough to go out to dinner now?"

I blushed. "I'm awfully tired. Can we do that another time?" My penis
was at full erection by then, and she was showing no sign of stopping.

"But you would if I insisted?"

My hips rocked in time with her caress under my short skirt. "I'd have
to. I know what'd happen if I tried to fight you."

"Oh, no you don't," she whispered into my face. "It'd be a hundred
times worse than you can imagine, Sheila. Trust me on that. You don't
want to ever do anything that'd make me angry. Never again. Understand?"

I nodded, feeling her stroking hand more clearly than I heard her soft
words. The way she was rubbing me through the silky material of the
panties was driving me wild. I parted my lips, leaning forward to kiss
her. She quickly pulled away and squeezed my balls with enough force to
make me feel nauseated.

"Ah, ah! None of that, darling. I'll not have you smearing that pretty
lipstick of yours until I tell you to. Is my baby getting all hot? Her
sweet clittie's swollen so big. Would she like me to make her cum?"

"Yes," I whispered. "Please."

"You'd cum in your panties and then sleep in them?"

"Yes. I don't care. Just -"

"You'd lick and suck my pussy until I told you to stop, and then cum in
them for me?"

Oral sex had always disgusted me. "Yes! Anything you want!"

She dropped her hand and took me back to the bedroom, pushing me to my
knees beside the bed. She quickly opened a velcro closure hidden under the
metal studs of the bodysuit and peeled away a strip of fabric that'd
covered her groin. She straddled my head and sat on the edge of

the mattress. I stared in shock between her legs. She'd shaved her
pussy sometime in the week or more since we'd last made love. Her
pinkish-brown labia shone with moisture.

"Kiss those lips, Sheila. French kiss that mouth, you little slut.
Tongue fuck it like you mean it and maybe I'll let you cum."

I was repelled by the thought, but knew it was my only way to get
gratification, and that resistance would mean real trouble. I made myself
lean forward and hesitantly lap at her.

"No!" she yelled, grabbing me by my wig and slamming my face into her,
humping my nose with her hips. "Do it, you fag slut, or we'll go out and
pick somebody up to fuck YOU!"

I did it with every bit of energy I could summon. Little by little, my
disgust faded. I was turning her on! Her thrusts and approving curses
were heartfelt. I'd never heard her even half so aroused when we made love
normally. My penis strained inside the tight panties as I eagerly

wallowed between her legs, licking and sucking wherever she told me to
and going fast or slow according to her commands.

When she orgasmed, I thought she was going to smother me. She screamed
and her legs clamped around me like steel bands, trapping both my mouth and
nose. Her pussy twitched around my tongue and my nose nuzzled her clit.
Just as I started seeing black dots dancing in front of my eyes, she spread
her legs and I came up gasping for air.

I felt right on the edge of cumming myself. I looked down and saw that
the hem of my hose clad legs were spread wide. My dress had slid up high
enough to show the garters and the panties beneath. My cock was still
almost invisible, pointing toward my butt. It looked like I had a girl's
middle, and I was so turned on I was about to die! I'd never wanted to cum
so bad in my whole life, and I couldn't reach out to jack off. I tried to
pull my legs together, hoping that maybe I could rub my thighs together and
get off that way. It didn't work.

I heard my wife laugh. "Would my horny baby like to cum in her panties
now? Would she like to rub her clit with those sexy hands for me?"

I saw that she was laying back on the bed, staring down at me from
between her legs. She was stroking her clit, just like her words were
describing.

"Would you like me to fix your nasty mouth so you can be pretty for me,
and jack off for me like a dirty little slut?"

"Yes! Oh, god, please!"

When she helped me up, she didn't have to tell me to lay down on the
bed. I did it on my own. She spread my legs and snapped handcuffs attached
to the bedframe around my ankles. Then she freed my hands from behind my
back, clicking the left wrist to the bed over my head. The right one she
set free.

"Now do it slow, Sheila. You can't cum until I tell you to."

I was almost oblivious by then. My hand felt clumsy after being
imprisoned for so long, but it flew straight to my middle. She slapped it
away and pinned my arm under her weight.

"Listen to me, cunt! Unless you do it MY way, you don't get to do it at
all! Now just lay there until I say so!"

I panted while she swayed to the vanity to bring what she needed to
repair my face again. I begged her to hurry. Her hand lightly tickled my
painful balls and I cooperated to the max, holding my mouth open like I was
hungry for the lipstick, turning my head this way and that

so she could powder my cheeks and chin to her satisfaction.

"God, you're a sexy whore, Sheila! Now do exactly as I say. First,
lift your skirt out of the way. Now scratch the length of your clit with
those nasty red fingernails!"

The sc**** of my long nails through the silk almost made me shoot off
right then. I dimly heard the click of the shutter as she took more
pictures, but there was nothing I could do about it. I knew I was angling
my hips up provocatively, but I had to in order to reach myself.

"Feel good, honey? I wish you could see how sexy you are," she cooed.
"Now stick your hand inside the panties and rub it, just a little."

The thrill was electrifying! It took every bit of willpower I owned not
to jerk it just the once it'd take to send me over. But my wife's ominous
warning rang in my ears. I may have whined, but I didn't cum.

"Perfect baby! Now push your panties down under your balls. I want to
see it. I want to watch that pretty hand make you shoot cum up in the air.
NO! NOT YET! I want you to just hold it for a second, just squeeze it.
Feel how good it feels."

I was dying. My ears were ringing and my whole body was stiff. I was
panting like a dog. "Please! Please," I howled.

"Tell me your name, slut! Tell me who you are and I'll let you cum!"

"Sheila," I shrieked. "I'm Sheila!"

"And you just love looking sexy, don't you!"

"Yes! Yes!"

"Beg me to take you dancing tomorrow night!"

"Please take me out! Anywhere you want!"

"Do you want to show off? Do you want to wear that nasty black
minidress and tall heels and bright make up? Show everybody what a hot
little slut you are?"

"Yes! I'll do it!"

"Do you WANT to do it?"

"Yes! Yes! I want to be a slut and let everybody see me!"

"Then cum for me, Sheila! Rub your fat clit and cum!"

The explosion ripped through me like lightning. My first blast of sperm
must have shot two feet in the air. There were many more spurts to follow,
and my flying hand was slick with it long before I was finished. I
collapsed onto the mattress, weak as a baby.

She touched my shrinking penis, and I gasped. It was so sensitive I
couldn't stand it. I heard her low chuckle, but she relented and lifted
her hand. She brushed my lips with her fingers, and I

automatically kissed them, tasting something salty and sticky.

My drowsy eyes sprang open. It was my cum! I jerked my head away.

Her voice was a frightening growl. "Do you really want to make me
angry, Sheila? Do you really want to resist me? Are you ready for a hot,
long dick to slide up your asshole?"

My eyes threatened to overflow. "No," I whispered.

"Then lick every drop of cum from my fingers like a good slut."

More humiliated than I'd been while giving the clerks my charge card, or
even having the man leer at me through the car windows, I did what she
demanded. She scooped every last bit of sperm off my dress and slack penis
and made me swallow it. Finally, after I'd licked my own

hand clean, she was satisfied.

After she'd made me change into a red teddy, she chained me to the foot
of the bed and made me sleep on a blanket on the floor. She'd loosened my
girdle a little, but made me sleep in make up and the wig. The butt plug
was still there, too. She fed me a can of diet milkshake and a

tiny salad.

"You need to get used to being this way, Sheila. And this IS the way
you're going to be for the next two weeks. Maybe longer, if you give me
any trouble. I can't wait to get our next photos back. They'll show
anybody who sees them just how much you love living this way."

The renewed threat to give them to my boss cowed me even further. I'd
never been so miserable in my life. She'd reminded me, as she handcuffed
me to the bedframe, of what she'd said earlier.

"I told you, Sheila. I knew you didn't believe me then, but now you
know. I made you beg me to go out and flaunt your slutty body, just like I
said I would."

I cried as quietly as I could in the darkness. Somehow, some way, I HAD
to get out of this!

4. Chapter - Adjustments

I woke up stiff and sore, with the thing in my ass hurting like hell.
That and being on the floor were instant reminders of everything that'd
happened. I tried a deep breath but was stopped by the corset. I had to
sweep the wig's hair out of my mouth. My fingernails startled me so

much that my handcuffs clinked on the bed.

The mattress moved and my wife's sleepy face peered down at me. "Good
morning, Sheila? Did you sleep okay?"

A bitter retort was on my lips when I saw her face turn hard. I
swallowed my protest. "Um, it was okay."

She looked pleased. "That's the spirit, darling! What a good girl
you're being! Just for that, I'll let you go to the bathroom alone."

I tried to hide the hope surging through me by looking down at the floor
and thanking her. My heart was pounding. She dashed it by holding up a
pair cuffs with a short length of chain between them. She clicked them
around my ankles before unlocking me from the bed, and

made me put on the five inch heels. I had to take short mincing steps.
Even if I could get away from her, where could I go in a corset and teddy
with shackles on my legs? Seeing my dismay, she laughed heartily as I
walked delicately from the room.

I hated seeing myself in the mirror. There was still sleep worn
lipstick on my mouth, eyeliner around my eyes, and flakes of mascara all
over my cheeks. The brown wig was a tangled mop. Under the teddy I was as
hairless as my wife, and the corset showing through the lacy lingerie
showed a shape as nice as hers, too. I could barely see a man beneath all
that. The haggard woman in the mirror looked familiar, like my twin sister
might have if I had one.

I felt foolish standing to pee, having to hold the red teddy out of the
way, but I was damned if I'd squat unless I had to. The long red
fingernails embarrassed me as they touched my heavy morning cock. I had to
look away as I did my business.

I tried to think. I could take a razor out with me to use as a weapon -
but they were all the disposable kind and wouldn't work. Not that I could
really hurt her, not even for this. But maybe I could convince her I meant
business. To my dismay, there were no scissors, no nothing. Every
conceivable weapon had been taken away. I almost cried in frustration, and
managed not to only by reminding myself how feminine a reaction that'd be.

I pulled myself together. There'd be another time, other chances, if I
played my cards right. Hating what I had to do, I tugged a brush through
the wig and rinsed my face and mouth. I tried a practice smile, but it was
too scary. I had to stay away from mirrors.

She arched an eyebrow when I traipsed back out with as much enthusiasm
as I could find. "Why you little darling! You cleaned up for me!"

"Would you like me to bring you coffee in bed?" I asked her remembering
to speak softly in as feminine a voice as I could muster.

"What? And leave you in the kitchen with all those sharp things?
Honey, you might hurt yourself."

Obviously, she knew I'd try something and wasn't going to give me the
opening I needed. I choked back a burst of rage. "I'd be very careful."

"I'm sure you would, darling. But not this time. Sit down there and
get started on your face, my little cum lover. I'll make the coffee."

She cuffed my legs to the back legs of the vanity's chair and roped my
chest tightly to the back. I might be able to reach the ****, I thought.

"Now do a good job, honey. I want you to look pretty. Remember, we've
got an appointment to get your hair done this afternoon."

"But I can't!" I protested. "I don't know how!"

"Come darling," she warned as she turned away. "You've watched me
hundreds of time, and Cindy and I showed you exactly how it needs to be
done. Do it and do it right, or else!"

The moment she was out of sight, I tried the ****. It was tight, and I
could get no leverage because of the angle of my wrists. I fumbled with it
anyway, desperately, but to no avail. Again tears threatened me. This
time I couldn't hold them off. Once I started, I couldn't stop.

I'd never felt anything like that in my life. I was terrified and
helpless. She was outsmarting me at every turn. I was horrified - she was
winning! She WAS going to be able to make me do whatever she demanded, no
matter how sick or twisted. I was never going to be able to resist her. I
was still crying when she came back fifteen minutes later. Her deep scowl
made me try harder to dam the flood.

"You haven't even started!" she accused angrily.

"I ... I ..." I stammered hopelessly.

"You worthless little bitch! That does it!" She stormed toward me.
There was no way to flee from her. I covered my face with my arms and
sobbed anew. But she didn't go for my face. Her slap landed squarely
between my legs. I doubled up with a sick groan. She wrenched one arm

behind my back and twisted. A cold cuff went around my wrist.

"Give me the other arm!"

I did.

"Why you thankless bitch! You broke a nail messing with that ****,
trying to get away! Oh, you'll pay for that, too!" She jerked me to my
feet by my arms, causing me to yell in pain. She dragged me into the
bathroom and pushed me into the tub, still wearing what I'd slept in. She
jerked off my high heels, then turned the water on, adjusting it until it
was almost scalding hot. I was too afraid to protest. At least I'd quit
crying. She quickly reattached the handcuffs around a

very solid towel rack. With a sinking heart, I remembered I'd installed
it for her three weeks ago. More evidence that she'd been planning this
for a very long time!

To the burning water, she added fragrant bath salts and oils. She
reached under me and with a cruel jerk, removed the plug that almost felt
like part of my ass.

"You've earned the next larger size, cunt. We've got to get you
loosened up and ready for a big fat real cock, don't we? After all, we
don't want it to hurt you so much you can't enjoy the way it's going slide
in and out of you."

That was more than enough to make me sob all over again. "Please," I
begged her softly, "Not that. Anything but that."

"Anything, Sheila? You mean that anything's better than having a man
lift your sexy legs over his shoulders and spread those cute buns under
your dress and hammer you with his cock?"

"Yes!" I wailed hysterically. "Anything!"

"Oh, baby," she laughed, "I'm going to make you remember what you just
said. When you're crying this hard, begging me to let you have a cock up
your ass, I'll remind you. And you will, you know. Just like you did last
night."

With the steaming tub filled to the rim, she left me to soak and think.
Horrible scenarios ran through my mind, but none were anywhere near as bad
as what she'd said. What could be worse than having another man do that to
me? The whole thing was a nightmare, but that ...

The water was almost cool by the time she returned, and I was having
trouble. It was like the butt plug had already loosened my asshole, and I
was sweating as I tried to keep my bowels from emptying in the bathwater.

"Toilet!" I begged the instant the door opened.

"Oh, my! Do we have a problem, darling?" I barely noticed that she was
in makeup as wild as the night before and wearing an ebony minidress that
looked as wet and skin tight as her bodysuit had.

"I need to shit! Please!"

She giggled merrily. "We can't have that, can we? You'd have to walk
around all day smelling of your own shit!" She put a theatrically
thoughtful red nail before her thick scarlet lips. "Now let me see. What
did I do with those keys?"

I realized as she turned away that she wasn't coming back. I knew the
keys were just outside the door on an end table. And she didn't return
until she heard the forlorn wail I made fifteen minutes later as my
stretched sphincter finally released. I was straining to keep as much

of my body out of the filth as I could and crying like a lost toddler.

She clucked her tongue at me and looked disgusted. "Well, Sheila.
That's your third fuck up already, and you've only been awake an hour.
What am I going to do with you? I'm only going to be able to have you
fucked by a few men before it's more reward than punishment."

"I'm sorry! I'll behave! I swear to God I will. Please, Ellen, give
me one more chance!" I knew she was maneuvering me, but it was all I could
do.

She walked up to the side of the tub, petted my damp wig with her hand.
I looked up, pleading with my eyes. I could see right up her skirt, see
that she wasn't wearing any panties, just garters to hold up her seamed
hose. Her naked pussy pouted down at me. I remembered how it tasted. Her
searing red mouth smiled. "Anything, darling. That's what you said.
Remember? Now take a deep breath and relax."

With that, she unlocked my hands. I knew what was coming. Nausea
welled up in me as she pushed my head under the water I'd soiled. At least
she let me shower and scrub myself clean, even though I didn't feel that
way. It didn't feel like I'd ever be able to get clean. I hated her for
what she'd done - all of it, not just in the bathtub. But it was a strange
hatred, more fear than anger, if that makes sense. It didn't to me. I was
more and more convinced that I wasn't going to be able to escape her - ever. My self-confidence had been eaten away
over the past day until I doubted everything except her cunning.

Somehow, being naked was even worse than wearing the corset and teddy
had been. My hairlessness seemed all the reminder I needed. I wrapped a
towel around me to hide as much of myself as I could while I shaved my
light beard as smooth as was humanly possible. I knew the towel was a
feminine gesture, but I couldn't stand seeing myself that way.

When I finally minced out of the bathroom in my shackles, holding my
shampooed wig in my hand, she acted like nothing had ever happened. She
was chatty, in a kind of girl to girl way. She'd loaded a tray with fresh
fruit and coffee. My mouth watered as I ate my share and tried to make
light conversation. She was critical of my voice, but not in a vicious
way. As she cleared the scant meal, she told me to do my makeup like a good
girl.

I promptly tried to imitate what had been done to me several times the
day before. I'd been paying no attention, and was finding the task
overwhelming. I swallowed my fear and meekly asked for her help. I
watched her expressionless face as she approached, fearful of her
wrath, but her smile made me try to, also.

"Of course, my love. I'm so happy you asked." She pressed her soft
breasts against the back of my head as she hugged me. "I'd love to help
make you beautiful. But," she warned tenderly, "you must learn to do it
for yourself, or I'll be upset."

"I will," I vowed, relishing the feel of her chest wrapping around me.
"Uh, by the way, I think you're beautiful today." It was the most truthful
thing I'd said all day.

"Um," she purred, sliding her hands down my smooth chest, playing with
my nipples, rubbing her breasts more firmly against me. "Thank you, lover.
I knew you'd like it as much as I do."

She let her hands slide lower still, grasped my growing member in a
gentle hand. "God, you make me so hot," she whispered, staring at me via
the mirror. "You've done your lips even better than I did. Such a sweet
red pout - but you should never start with lipstick, baby. Oohh.

My cunt's dripping, thinking about how good they'd feel kissing it like
you did last night. You gave me the best orgasm I've ever had, Sheila. I
want to sixty-nine with you, lick your clit until we both cum."

"I want that, too," I panted hotly, imagining my cock in that sweltering
red mouth. I spoke what I hoped she wanted to hear. "Let me lick you
again. Let me fuck you with my tongue."

She kept me stone hard and sweaty until she'd coached me through the
whole makeover. Then she forced me into a second corset, this one red, and
let me play with myself and her heavy breasts as she stretched the laces
tighter and tighter. She warned me over and over not to cum

until she gave me permission. I had to put the breast forms in myself.
Satisfied, she pushed me to the carpet and straddled my face.

"Eat me, whore," was her final command before lowering her head toward
my big, raging clit.

It didn't take either one of us long. I couldn't wait for her to tell
me to let go. She started writhing on my face as her orgasm hit her, and
mine erupted wildly moments later. She didn't seem to mind, as she moaned
loudly, despite her mouthful, and sucked mightily. I was still lazily
licking her when she lifted herself off me and turned around. She brought
her smeared red lips down to mine and kissed me hungrily. She forced her
tongue into my mouth, then pushed

the glob of cum she'd saved into the back of my mouth. I tried to pull
away, but there was nowhere to go. She clamped one hand over my lips and
massaged my throat until I swallowed repeatedly, my eyes filled with tears
of humiliation.

"There. Was that so bad, Sheila? Because you're being so cooperative,
I'll overlook the fact that I didn't give you permission to cum. See? I'm
not unreasonable. If you continue to behave, we can both enjoy ourselves.
But the moment you rebel, I'm the only one who'll enjoy myself. Now be a
doll and take your vitamin before you fix your face."

The way she said it made me suspicious. I looked at the big pill when I
rolled it into my palm.

Her laughter made me turn my head after I'd swallowed it. "You're
right, dear. That's a very special vitamin. You've been taking a huge
dose of female hormones for over a month now. Haven't you noticed how
smooth your skin is getting? Soon, you'll be growing your very own

breasts!"

I stared at her in utter horror, more sick to my stomach than bathing in
my shit had made me.

"Why are you doing this to me?" I cried.

She encircled my waist from behind, trapping my arms within hers.
"Because it's what we both want, darling. Don't you see? You need this as
much as I do." Her voice turned stern and cold. "If you ruin your makeup
by crying, I'll make you regret it."

It took superhuman effort to stifle the tears. I wondered, in my panic,
if the daily overdose of hormones was what was making me so emotional. I
tried to pay attention to the cosmetics as I prepared my face to go back to
the mall. I didn't care how I looked - but Ellen did, and pleasing her was
something I HAD to do.

Dressed in a skimpy gold dress and strapped into yet another pair of
five inch heels, with the promised larger butt plug trapped between my ass
cheeks and my wig pinned to my scalp, she led me back to the garage. I was
somewhat shocked that she didn't use the handcuffs. I guess she figured
the leather collar and leg irons and my full blown feminine look was enough
incentive to behave. She was right, too.

5. Chapter- Defining Sheila

It was ten times worse than the day before. Ellen's almost obscene
black dress and lewd makeup attracted the attention of everyone we
encountered as we traipsed through the mall. While all their eyes locked
on her first, they took me in also. She warned me, after we'd gone a
little way, to stand tall and act proud of my beauty, or else. The shop
windows showed me how I looked, with my big breast forms and tiny waist and
full hips revealed by the clinging gold dress. I couldn't ignore how
enticing my widely swaying ass looked. I felt like a beacon, like people
could see me from miles away. She'd deliberately parked as far from the
beauty salon as possible, exposing us to the blatant stares of hundreds of
people as we traversed the full length of the shopping center. I felt
every lusty look like it was actually touching me.

By the time we finally got to the salon, I was horribly confused. While
I was ashamed to death of being publicly exposed like that, I was also a
little breathless with excitement. It wasn't really sexual. My cock
wasn't rock hard, for which I was immensely thankful. It was more like I
was doing something dangerous, something illicit, that charged me with
adrenaline. I was fooling everyone! They were staring at me as hard as
they could, and had no idea!

The way Ellen looked at me when we turned into the beauty shop told me
she knew what I was feeling. Her smile mocked my pleasure, said, "I told
you so," without her having to say a word.

Cindy and my wife again led me to the back room. I was grateful to be
out of sight and tried to relax. After my period of freedom, I was
dismayed when Ellen again used the velcro straps on my wrists.

"You know what to do," she told Cindy. "And while you're at it, she
broke a fingernail this morning that needs to be fixed."

"No problem," the stylist smirked. "I've been thinking. If you'd like,
I could wax her legs and chest and I think I can do better with her face,
too."

"Great idea! Do whatever you think the little bitch needs. I'll be
back in an hour or so." She turned her wet red lips up and smiled at me.
"Be a good girl, Sheila. I think Cindy likes you, so be very nice and
don't give her any trouble."

I nodded meekly, tried to smile back, and used the tips she'd given me
on speaking right. "Have fun shopping."

As soon as she was out of sight, Cindy started acting different. "Okay,
Sheila, we're going to have a lot of fun today. You're not going to
believe how hot you're going to look before I'm through with you."

She removed my wig, which was embarrassing. Anybody who walked in would
recognize me for what I was. I was expecting her to style it or something.
Instead, she threw it carelessly on the counter and picked up a pair of
shears. When she started cutting away all my hair, I froze. She didn't
stop until my hair was an eighth of an inch long all over! Then, to my
horror, she picked up a straight razor and ran it ominously over a strop,
smiling wickedly at me all the while.

I sat rigidly, gripping the armrest as tightly as I could, while she
applied shaving cream to my scalp and shaved me completely bald! I was
whimpering, doing everything possible not to cry at my humiliation.

"Now look in the mirror, Sheila!" It was a command at least as intense
as any Ellen gave me. I obeyed, fearing the consequences, and was
astonished by what I saw.

It wasn't a bald man sitting there, but a lovely, delicately featured
young woman with a scalp as slick as a cue ball! I tried as hard as I
could to see myself under the clothes and cosmetics, and couldn't! The
dangling earrings, arched eyebrows and bowed, trembling red lips weren't
mine! The heaving double swell of my chest looked like it belonged there!
The shapely hose covered legs and towering high heels were someone else's!
I had vanished as thoroughly as if I'd never

existed!

"Now for the good part," Cindy said. She lifted another wig, long,
platinum blonde and obviously very, very expensive, from a box. She showed
me a peculiar smooth liner on the underside instead of the weave like on
the other one. "What happens is that I apply a nice smooth

coat of a special epoxy to your scalp and the wig, then ..."

She let her words trail off. I completed the sentence for her in my
mind. It'd become permanent. Maybe, in a month or so, as my hair grew
out, it'd loosen. Until it did, the silver blonde hair would cascade over
my shoulders and reach part way down my back. It finally

penetrated that my two week vacation "cruise" wasn't going to end that
soon, no matter how well I behaved.

I gave in to my tears while Cindy smeared the smelly paste all over my
scalp and I openly sobbed when she carefully fitted the wig to my head,
jerking it firmly into place. She wore an expression of triumph.

"Jesus," she sneered, "what a pussy you are! It's no wonder your wife
treats you this way. It's exactly what a wimpy little fag like you
deserves! Now I'm going to take these straps off and get you out of that
corset long enough to make sure there's not a single bit of stubble
anywhere on you. Give me any shit, and I'll invite every woman in the shop
to come back and laugh at your naked body!"

Taking all my clothes off was even worse than wearing them. I felt like
I wasn't a man anymore, and she destroyed the illusion that I was a woman,
too. She laughed at the plug closing my ass as she smeared a burning,
stinking chemical all over me, even on my face, cock and

balls, and made me endure the torture of the depilatory far longer than
was necessary. I was afraid it was going to burn my penis and balls right
off. She pushed me into a shower and made me rinse it all off and use a
heavily perfumed soap and then fragrant body powder. I noticed how smooth
and soft I was all over. I guessed the hormones were working, like Ellen
had said.

She laced me back into the red corset even tighter than my wife had, but
had added some padding to the hip area while I showered. When she stepped
back to admire her work, I had even more of an hourglass figure than
before. She made me sit in the chair, with nothing to cover my

dangling, shriveled genitals, while the other girl, Debbie, redid all my
nails, not just the one I'd cracked, and made them even longer and redder.
The way she smirked from time to time at my groin made me wish my sex
organs would crawl up inside me.

Cindy, meanwhile, was styling my new hair and redoing my face, using a
different colored foundation, lots of bright blush, and making my eyes and
lips look as slutty as Ellen's did. I really and truly looked like a cheap
whore with useless male organs where a wet pussy should have been.

That's the way my wife found me on her return. Her eyes widened with
surprise, then her lush lips smiled. "Good lord, Cindy! You're a genius!"

"You've got one hot little slut here!" the stylist laughed.
"Thirty-seven, twenty-two, thirty-five unless I'm blind. That gold dress
is going to be stretched even tighter over her mean little ass. Too bad
she's got such a pot belly under that corset. Get her to lose fifteen
pounds and she'd be a real knockout - if she didn't have that ugly thing
between her legs."

"Twenty pounds is more like it," my wife said. She patted my wrist. "I
know she can do it. She may not show it, but she loves what you've done
for her, don't you darling?"

When I meekly nodded, her hand tightened on my arm. Before she could
reprimand me for not answering aloud, I did. "Yes. It's lovely. Thank
you, Cindy."

They both laughed at my spinelessness. Cindy added, a little
hesitantly, "I, uh, came across something else I think she might like. If
you don't mind, Ellen, I'd like to give her a present."

Ellen looked touched. "Cindy! That's so sweet! Of course you may!" I
was instantly filled with fear.

The stylist opened a drawer in her cabinet and brought out a gaily
wrapped package with "To Sheila," written on the tag and handed it to me.
The paper read "Happy Birthday," all over. I blushed furiously.

"Well open it, silly girl!" my wife urged.

I did, fumbling, unable to use my hands as I always had due to the
absurd length of my hooked nails. I discovered I could use them as tools,
sliding them along, slitting the paper like a letter opener. Inside the
box was a bizarre flesh toned elastic device something like both a g-string
and a pouchless jock strap. When I figured out its function, my blush went
even deeper.

"A retainer!" Ellen said appeciatively. "Oh, Sheila, put it on for us!"
She ripped off the velcro bands, freeing my arms.

I bent forward as far as I could, exhaled every bit of air in my lungs,
but the corset wouldn't let me come close to reaching my ankles, even when
I lifted one foot. "Will you help me?"

"Of course, darling! Here!" I delicately lifted each foot as she
slipped it over my ankles, but she stopped when she'd lifted it to a height
I'd shown I could reach. I had to do the rest.

It was humiliating to have to detach my hose from the garters, elevate
my hips, and work the thing into place. Worst of all was reaching inside
it and arranging my penis and balls so that they flattened into absolute
invisibility. Ellen again helped me with my tiny bikini panties. When all
was done, I had a perfectly smooth middle. Even the retainer's tough
elastic string dug so deeply into my flesh that it left no line.

For all visible purposes, I had been turned into a complete woman, even
if they peeked up my dress. No one who saw me would ever doubt my
femininity now. The leather collar covered the lump of my larynx. My
knees weren't even knobby. I felt positive that I would "pass" wherever I
went. But that was only part of it.

My own senses reported no masculinity left in me. My shimmering hair -
the only hair I had other than my carefully shaped eyebrows - had tickled
my cleavage as I bent forward, swung with my every move. Dangling from my
ears were long gold earrings that chimed softly when I moved my head. I
had learned to look out at the world through long black lashes thick with
mascara, day and night. When I looked at my chest, even without breast
forms, I saw how much the corset lifted and shaped my very own flesh into
small pink bosoms - and Ellen assured me that, due to the hormones, they
were growing. Now even my panties were flat and smooth. My every word was
shaped by lips that dripped with deep red color. My fluttering hands were
branded, changed by long scarlet commas. My ass was perpetually violated
by a fake penis I'd gotten used to feeling rub my insides as I walked.
Even without high heels, my hips rolled and swayed.

My emotions weren't even my own. Maybe it was the hormones, maybe it
was something else, but the bottom line was that I cried every time I
became afraid. I felt that EVERY emotion I felt was visible. Ellen had
easily seen through my sly efforts to try to escape from her control. And,
while I hate admitting it, she'd also read, without even trying, how
pleased I was by what Cindy had done to me. I DID like it. I WAS
grateful. And the clearly visible rush of joy that made them

laugh was making me sick.

While they chatted about this and that, I paid no attention. I was
trying to name a new emotion growing in me. I hated myself for what I was
feeling. It made me feel like maybe I was exactly what Cindy had called me
- a pussy, a wimpy little fag. That was the only kind of man

I could think of who'd be so proud of his completely feminized
appearance as I was.

As Ellen turned to me and asked me a question, I was jerked back from my
sad musing. "I'm sorry," I had to confess, despite the danger, "I didn't
hear ..."

Cindy laughed throatily. "Little cunt was so busy admiring herself she
wasn't listening."

My wife's look was stern, and her eyes shone maliciously. "I asked you
if you'd like to thank Cindy for her birthday gift."

"Yes. Of course. Thank you, Cindy. It's -"

"Not that way," Ellen interrupted harshly.

I was befuddled. Cindy took my hand, helped me stand, led me back to
the bathroom. I had no idea what was happening, but I was sure I wasn't
going to like it. She locked the door and leaned against the lavatory.
"You really didn't hear, did you?"

"Uh, no. I'm sorry. I -"

"Ellen was telling me what a great pussy eater you are, how you make her
cum like she's never cum before."

I paled, felt dizzy, sick. Unable to speak, I watched her hands slowly
lift her skirt, inch at a time.

"You know what to do, Sheila. Don't make me use force."

I stared at her exposed panties. They were a pale blue. Their crotch
was moist, dark. One hand released her hem. I felt the weight of it
transerred to my shoulder. I sank to my knees. What else could I do?

She made me do it all. I watched my woman's hands tenderly lower her
panties, revealing her moist cunt, its lips shaven, but with a cloud of
brown curls left above the hooded clitoris. I touched, stroked it, finger
fucked it, careful of my nails, exactly as she told me to. I kissed it and
licked it and inserted my tongue in her cavity to her gasped
specifications. She didn't taste quite like Ellen did. Less fishy, more
fragrant. Better, really. Her hands were rough in my hair though. The
sharp pain in my scalp was almost exactly as if my hair was real, not like
the wig had been.

When she came with a muffled shriek, I hungrily licked her clean. My
penis throbbed in my new restraint, filling it with cum. I hadn't even
touched it. My lust had betrayed me. Even after her hands left my hair, I
stayed there, kissing away the dregs of her passion, increasingly aware of
how I'd left my lipstick all over her, how proud of myself I was for
returning her gift in the only way I could.

"You ARE good, Sheila," she purred, no laughter left in her tone.

"Thank you. You taste so good, Cindy." I kissed her reddened clitoris
one last time. Was it really me admitting that, meaning that? It must be.

She helped me to my feet, more tender than she'd ever been. She
gathered me in for a soft kiss, and I offered no resistance, automatically
parted my lips for her tongue. "Next time, I'll give you another present
and maybe I'll taste you. Would you like that?"

"If you want to. If it's okay with Ellen," I stammered. My eyes were
on my face in the mirror as she hugged me. My cheeks were wet with her
fluids. My lips were smeared. When I licked them, I tasted the candy of
my lipstick and the richness of her cum. I'd made her do that, given her
so much pleasure that she'd shouted it aloud.

"You didn't answer me, slut. Would you LIKE that?"

"Yes, Cindy. Very much. I ... I came, too." I watched the honesty
made my face red.

She pushed me to arms length, her eyes twinkling merrily. "You did?
Show me!"

My regret was instantaneous. I stuttered, looking for a way out. Her
expression turned stony. "Show me, whore! Show me the mess you made in
the present I gave you!"

Batting back tears of shame, I wiggled my panties down, then the heavy
elastic, sticky with spewed sperm. My cock hung, tiny and wrinkled and
ugly, shiny with thick spunk.

Cindy's laughter was like tinking bells. "What does Ellen make you do
when you cum? Does she punish you?"

I could lie, I thought. Maybe she wouldn't tell my wife. But if she
did? And, did I really WANT to lie? "She ... she makes me eat it."

"Well? What are you waiting for?"

I was ready for it that time. I knew the taste and texture. I sc****d
up what I could. She made me unhook my hose and remove the device and lick
it clean. Her eyes glittered the whole time. Her breath was quick again.
I could see her nipples through her dress. This was giving her pleasure,
too. I made a small, shy show of the process, trying to look like I
enjoyed what I was doing. Didn't I, at least a little? Wasn't this a
vital part of what'd been done to me? Didn't it

earn me favor, freedom? Such a small price to pay.

"May I put it back on now, Cindy?" I'd seen how my penis was growing. I
wanted to hide it.

"No. Let's show Ellen what a good bitch you've been."

I hung my head and she led me out, panties dangling from one hand,
retainer from the other. Her voice was thick while she related every
detail to my wife. I hazarded a glance at Ellen from beneath the shield
locks of my tangled hair, and quailed inside.

She wasn't pleased by my actions. She was shocked, maybe even dismayed,
and trying not to show it. I felt my lower lip begin to tremble as my eyes
filled with fearful tears. I'd been so sure I was doing the right thing!

The next time I glanced up, her face was a blank mask, and her eyes were
on me, not Cindy, whose voice was but a dim echo. She read my confusion
like I was an open book. I guess I was. I couldn't look away. She
deliberately reached into her purse and came up with a package of
cigarettes and a lighter. My shock deepened. She abhorred everything
about tobacco, yet she tapped out a cigarette and lit it and inhaled as if
she'd been doing it for years. I was like a rodent

hypnotized by a snake, staring vacantly at how her bright lips stained
the white filter, then pursed as if she was kissing the grey plume she
exhaled.

Cindy's tale ended and my wife's eyes dismissed me. She smiled tightly,
but Cindy missed the tension in it. "Very good, Sheila. You're turning
into the perfect little slut, aren't you?"

She was waiting. I didn't know what to say. "I ... I guess so. I'm
sorry if -"

"There's nothing to be sorry about, darling. Nothing at all. But we
have to hurry. There's so much to do before we go out tonight. Go back in
there and get dressed. Fix your makeup."

Ellen paid Cindy while I quickly wiggled into my undergarments, repaired
my lipstick and powdered my face. The stylist refused a tip. "Sheila's
already given me one," she laughed. "Bring her back next week if you'd
like to begin electrolysis on her face."

I followed numbly. Electrolysis to remove my thin facial hair? I
didn't even worry about it. All my worries were focused on my wife. She
marched quickly along, forcing me to have to hurry to keep up. I felt
awkward, stumbling along as best I could in the five inch heels, and knew I
was making a fool of myself. She was angry what I'd done. Very angry.
I'd be punished horribly for some transgression, and I wasn't even sure
what it was. Because I'd had an orgasm as I ate

Cindy? That must be it.

She didn't slow her pace, and I fell farther and farther behind.
Everyone was looking at us - the striking brunette in the clinging black
lycra dress, and the slutty, clumsy platinum blonde. After a

while, I realized no one could tell I was following her. We didn't look
like we were together.

A surge of panic made me bite my lower lip to stifle a shout. Was she
going to abandon me here? Was she deliberately going to force me to get
home however I could? My pace faltered, throwing me even further behind.
What was I going to do? I had no money, no identification nothing! My
legs refused to carry me another step. I was frozen, in the middle of a
throng of shoppers. A man bumped into me and I nearly leapt out of my
skin.

He stopped. "You okay lady?" His eyes touched me, raked me.

I bolted. I couldn't stand how close he was, what his eyes were doing.
I pursued my wife, not caring how it looked. I felt like my very life
depended on catching her before she reached the car. To my utter horror, I
couldn't see her. Even in five inch heels, everyone was taller than I was.
The crowd had closed around her, as if it was trying to hide her. I
hesitated, turning hopelessly this way and that, at the juncture of two
wings of the mall, having no idea which direction she'd gone. I was too
scared to even remember where the car was. I'd never felt so utterly lost
and alone, even as a c***d. How could she hate me so much that she'd do
this to me?

I was positive my immobility was again drawing more attention to my face
and body. I knew I looked like I was advertising, asking for exactly the
kind of looks I was being given. There was nothing exciting about it now.
My wife had buffered me from it, made me safe. Now, I was totally
vulnerable, exposed even more than I had been when Cindy stripped me nude
in the salon.

Terror became dread certainty. Something horrible was going to happen.

"Scared, cunt?" came a sibilant whisper in my ear.

I whirled to her, my nightmare ended. "Oh, Ellen! Where were you?"

"You're crying. Stop it this instant." She handed me a tissue. She was
still angry, but there was compassion, too.

I hadn't even been aware of my tears, and was ashamed. "I'm sorry." I
blotted my eyes like she'd taught me. "I guess I was making a fool of
myself again. Did I mess up my eyes?"

"Not too badly. Come on. I need a drink."

This time, her pace was moderate, but her low grade anger made me hold
back a step. I was desperate to please her, to make amends for whatever
I'd done wrong. I reminded myself to stand tall, act proud, do everything
she'd told me to do. It didn't fully register that we were going to a bar
until she crossed the flow of traffic and led me into a dim, hushed space
that smelled of smoke and liquor. It was barely three in the afternoon,
and the place was anything but crowded.

My wife occupied one half of an isolated booth. I took the other side.

She silently stared at me until I dropped my eyes. The tension was so
thick I could taste its bitterness on my tongue. Urgency built within me
to end it, but my jaw seemed locked closed. My mind spun madly, looking
for the right thing to do, to say. A waitress appeared. Ellen

ordered a pair of stingers in somber tones. I thought she was digging
through her handbag for makeup so I could make repairs, but she extracted
another cigarette instead. The lighter added light to her face for a
moment.

"What? You disapprove of me smoking?"

"It's just a shock is all. It looks so ... like you've been doing it
for a long time."

She exhaled with what seemed relief. "What if I told you I started oh,
say, six months ago? What if I said that, since you weren't paying any
attention to me, I bought this dress and started going out?"

My mouth hung open foolishly. "You did? Oh, God, Ellen!" Pictures
flickered through my mind. Ellen, painted and needy, sitting in places
like this looking for men.

"I didn't say that's what happened. I said 'what if.' How would that
make you feel?"

"Sick, I guess. And sorry I was so blind. Is there anything I can do
-"

Her laugh was harsh. "You keep assuming that's what happened, you
stupid bitch. If you knew I'd been fucking other men - excuse me, men
period - would you feel betrayed? Jealous?"

"Of course! I love you, Ellen. I'd do anything to -"

The waitress delivered the drinks, reducing us to silence again. It was
even worse than before. It was like she'd fed me a slow poison. I felt it
eating at my guts. Doubt assailed me. Surely I'd have known. I'd have
smelled the smoke clinging to her flesh and clothes. I'd have been able to
tell if another cock had been inside her, if her lips had been passionately
locked to another mouth.

"'Anything,'" she mocked me, easily taking more smoke. "There's that
word again, Sheila. Every time you use it, you make me want to test you,
to push you, to see if you really mean it."

I squirmed.

"Drink up," she ordered, not touching hers, but waiting for me to sip
from my glass. Neither of us were big fans of hard liquor. Instantly, I
felt the small taste. Its warmth expanding outward from my empty stomach.
It'd been two days since I'd had a decent meal, and I knew the drink was
going to hit me like an avalanche. I wanted to ask her for a sandwich of
something. I held my tongue.

"You still don't get it, do you?"

"I ... I think so. You're saying that what I ... what happened with
Cindy made you feel ... uh, betrayed."

She leaned back. Her blood red smile was sharp as a knife. "I warned
you. Remember? 'If you act like a slut, I'll have to treat you like one.'
I think those were my exact words."

"But I was just doing what you ordered me to do!"

"Did I tell you to cum? Did I tell you to like it? Did I tell you to
lick up your cum, or kiss her, or promise to let her suck you off the next
time she gives you a present?"

"No." I stared at my woman's hands wrapped around the drink, the rim
marked by my woman's lips.

She leaned forward. Her breasts touched the table. I could see down
almost to her nipples. "What do you call someone who gives sex in return
for gifts?"

My heart shriveled. "But you told me to thank her that way! I -"

"I didn't say a fucking thing about 'next time,' did I? Answer me!
What kind of woman does what you did?"

She was right. What'd I'd done - almost all of it - wasn't really
because she made me do it. I'd WANTED to. I felt the weight of the words
fill my mouth, overflow my lips. "A whore," I barely whispered.

"I didn't hear you."

I repeated it for her. "A whore. I acted like a whore."

"Is that what you are, Sheila?"

"No! I'm sorry, Ellen. I was wrong. I did a terrible thing. It'll
never happen again. I promise."

"Un huh. And I'm supposed to forgive you. Just like that?"

I swallowed. "I, uh ... I guess I should be punished."

"Are you asking me to punish you?"

I finally managed to meet her steely gaze. "I want you to do whatever
you need to do. I need you, Ellen. I love you more than anything. If you
have to hurt me to forgive me, I'll take it." I was whining, begging. I
meant it with my entire being. "When I thought you'd abandoned me here, I
saw how much I need you. I can't stand the thought of ever being without
you. I think I'd die without you. You've ... I'm different now. I'm
scared all the time. The only time I feel good is when I'm doing what you
want."

I watched her anger evaporate, saw the real love in her eyes. "Do you
really mean that, honey?"

I was thrilled! "Oh, god, yes!"

"And you'll willingly prove it to me?"

I hesitated before I said the next word. I needed to be sure I meant
it, she said. "Anything."

Her smile was a ray of brilliance. Her hand covered mine, squeezed.
"You are a treasure, my love. I adore you. I realized something myself.
What you did with Cindy made me admit to myself how much I need you, too.
Now finish your drink."

I swallowed it with unladylike gulps, then gasped for breath. We both
laughed.

I shook my head at the instantaneous blast of dizziness, felt my hair
tickle my shoulders. "Whoo! That's more than I've had to drink in years."

"Since our wedding," she grinned, then pushed the second glass toward
me.

"You want me to drink this one, too?"

"Un huh. In time. But first let's go freshen up. I love what Cindy's
done to your face, don't you?"

I babbled affirmatives to her questions as we wound our way to the
ladies' room. It was weird going in there, but the thrill of illicitness
was back. I'd always wondered what those forbidden doors hid. I whispered
how much fun it was to fool everyone, to take little risks like this and
almost dare people to challenge me.

"I know exactly what you mean," she laughed gaily, but softly. "I feel
the same way wearing these clothes and using so much makeup. That's why I
smoke, too. It's part of the disguise. Want to try it?"

"I'd choke. That wouldn't be very sexy, would it?"

We kept up our quiet chatter while we touched up our faces, trading
cosmetics, giving one another giggled advice. We were mirror images, I
thought. She dark, me light; she real, me false. For the first time,
being wrapped in feminine clothes, my face coated with color, my body

changed - all of it felt utterly right. Maybe it was the hammer-like
impact of the alcohol, but I wouldn't have changed a thing, and told her
so.

Her eyes filled with tears. "I never expected to hear you say that,
love."

My smile in the mirror was bright. My lips were perfect. "I don't know
- or even care - why you wanted to do this to me. Thank you, Ellen."

6. Chapter - Stepping Out

"You're making me hot again," Ellen told me. She deliberately weighed
her heavy breasts. "See?"

Her nipples were indeed denting the shimmering black lycra dress. "I
noticed," I giggled, the alcohol making me reckless. "Would you like me to
do something about it?"

"You'd do me right here in the bathroom?" she purred.

"I'd do you anywhere you want. You make me hot, too, you know." My lips
were suddenly hungry. I wanted to replace Cindy's aftertaste with Ellen's
more pungent flavor.

"Not yet. Let's get out of here before it gets any worse."

"Worse?" I simpered teasingly, bending over to straighten my hose,
placing my face near her middle. The cascading silvery mane felt
wonderful. I could almost taste the dew certain to be collecting on the
inner surfaces of her labia. With a sudden rush, I remembered that my wife
was wearing no panties beneath that tiny dress, that her sleek, shaved
pussy was naked, mere inches from my saliva filling mouth. I felt my face
flush.

"I want to lick you, Ellen."

"You're drunk, you shameless hussy. I'd better get some food in you.
Come on."

Arm in arm, we re-entered the bar. My pulse was still hammering. I'd
eaten two pussies that day, had two marvelous orgasms, and was feeling
horny all over again. And rash.

The bar was filling. Our return drew eyes. I was already aware of how
beautiful I looked, how sexy in the shape-fitting gold minidress.
Thirty-seven, twenty-two, thirty-five, Cindy had declared with confidence
born of expertise. At five feet two inches, sans the heels, that made me a
knockout. The male eyes touching me didn't feel quite so invasive. The
potent drink had numbed my fear, warmed my libido. It was almost a
disappointment to reach our booth and hide ourselves behind a table.

Ellen leaned forward over it. The underhalf of her fine breasts again
pressed the smooth surface, and her deep cleavage opened to me. Her eyes
were hooded, the way they got when she was aroused. Her nipples were still
erect, must be visible to all our admirers. A stab of envy

pierced me. My latex breast forms, full as they were, felt inadequate.

"Would you like me to order you a snack, darling? Would you like to
stay for a while longer?"

I mechanically sipped the drink she'd pushed to my side of the table. I
was ashamed of my budding, twisted desire. "If you want to." Her face
changed to the look that demanded a real answer. "Yes. I'd like that."

She leaned back, dug for the cigarettes. "Now was that so hard?"

"I guess not." I watched her chest swell as she filled her lungs with
smoke. "Can I, uh, would you mind if I changed my mind about, uh ..."

"Smoking? Of course."

As Ellen's lighter flared in my hand and I hesitantly hollowed my cheeks
around the tobacco, the waitress arrived with another pair of unordered
stingers. "From the gentlemen," she informed us, nodding toward a table of
five businessmen across the room. I didn't like the taste of smoke at all.

My wife turned to smile at the table. "Thank them, Sheila. Give them
your prettiest smile."

My face tightened, my flush deepened. Deliberately smile at five men?
Men, just like me? Well, not quite like me, I admitted. But, wouldn't it
be rude not to - as well as annoying to Ellen? I'd already hurt her,
angered her deeply, and didn't want to risk that again. I knew how
enticing my lush red lips were as I turned up their corners and aimed them
toward the businessmen. As I did, Ellen shocked me. Beneath the table the
toe of one of her towering heels pressed against

my thighs, rubbed slickly over my hose.

My eyes jerked back to her. Her lips were slack. Her breathing was
quick. She'd slid down in her seat. "You're so beautiful," she muttered.
"Spread your legs, baby. Let me in."

My knees were knocking. I tried another puff of smoke. No one could
see, I reasoned. I obeyed her and swallowed a gulp of my drink. Dizzily,
I saw the lipstick coating its rim, marring the white filter of the
cigarette trembling in my hand. My bent-under prick was hard, hurtful,
invisible within the heavy elastic retainer. Her shoe slid smoothly
between my knees, rubbed up and down my inner thigh. With each stroke, it
went higher, its tip dipping under my high hem, nearing the tops of my
hose.

"Stop. Please," I whimpered.

"Am I embarrassing you?"

"Yes."

"Am I exciting you?"

I wet my lips. "Yes."

"Is your little clittie hard? Does it ache?"

My hips wanted to rock. I wanted to slide down so she could reach
higher. "Yes."

She suddenly dropped her foot and sat up. Her succulent mouth shaped an
inviting smile, directed over my shoulder. A deep voice throbbed in my
ear.

"May we join you?"

My entire body tensed. My head jerked toward the sound. Two men from
the distant table, broadly smiling, stood expectantly over us. My ears
were filled with a ringing noise. I barely heard Ellen.

"Of course. Sheila honey, scoot over."

I reflexively did as she commanded, felt the bench seat sag under a
heavy weight, smelled the sharp sting of male cologne over the stench of my
cigarette. A muscular shoulder brushed me as the man arranged himself. I
dared a quick look at my wife. Her heavy-lidded eyes were on me, glittered
mischievously. She'd deliberately set me up. She'd seen this coming.
She'd toyed with me, knowing what was going to happen.

She introduced us. I imagine I smiled mechanically, politely, although
I'll never be positive. The next few minutes are an absolute blank, a deep
hole in my memory. All I recall is a dire sense of panic. I was trapped
in the booth. I couldn't escape. There was nowhere to go. My glass was
suddenly empty. There was what I guess was a fresh cigarette burning
between my curved fingernails. Ellen's tall heel was sensuously rubbing my
ankle. My eyes on the table, I still saw her lean toward her gentleman,
watched her pendulous breast flatten against his bicep for a moment.
Beside me was a man. I darted my eyes up at him and he caught them. His
gaze spoke silent volumes. How desirable I was. How much he wished he
could kiss me, touch me. Fuck me.

Another round of drinks arrived. There was no food. The unaccustomed
alcohol was bringing me out of my shock. Ellen was flirting with both men.
Not outrageously, but encouraging them nonetheless. She was gently teasing
me about being so shy - recently divorced, she explained, and way out of
practice. She'd had to drag me out, she laughed musically. I wondered if
her pun was intentional, decided it was. She'd proven her genius.
Everything she did was intentional. What did she intend to happen next?
Her hand dropped to the man's suit sleeve. Her eyes were locked with his.
My throat tightened. Would she fuck him? Would she make me ...

My voice was shrill. It seemed to explode into the natural flow of
conversation. "Excuse me. I have to use the rest room. Ellen?" It was a
raw, desperate plea.

"Already?" she drawled. Her companion slid out. Mine patted my thigh,
let his hand linger for an instant before he moved. "Hurry back." His
breath puffed against my overheated cheek.

The drinks hit me like a truck the second I stood. The man who'd freed
me from the prison of the booth - Larry, I think his name was - caught me,
or I might have toppled off my heels. It was how he performed the
chivalrous gesture that was notable. He gathered me into his strong arms
like a lover. He didn't hold me tightly or lewdly, but did press against
me from breast to thigh. My thoroughly warmed latex tits must have been
convincingly soft. Through my spinning dizziness, I felt his erection on
my hip.

I fumblingly pushed away from him, but he kept his hands on my
shoulders, steadying me. The earth slowed its nauseating spin. Ellen was
standing beside me, wearing a wry red grin. She took my elbow and guided
my wobble toward the rest room. Her grip on my arm was painfully tight.
The instant the door closed behind us, she pushed me against the wall
length vanity. Her voice was a raw hiss.

"What the fuck's going on, Sheila? First you pout and sulk like a
little k** because I invited two gentlemen to sit with us, then you leap
into the guy's arms like a horny teenager."

"I'm drunk," I slurred. "I fell."

"My ass! It was deliberate as hell!"

"No!" I wailed. "I hate this, Ellen! All I want to do is go home!"

She sucked smoke savagely, spat it back out. "Maybe you'd like it if we
took them with us? You'd like to fuck him, wouldn't you?"

I shook my head so wildly that I staggered. I felt the tears gathering
in my eyes. "Don't say that. You know it's not true. Please don't be mad
at me. You know I can't drink."

"No one's been forcing you, bitch."

"I'm scared. It ... I ..."

She suddenly relented, hugged me, petted my silvery mane. It felt good
to be comforted. I nestled into her arms, lowered my head to her shoulder.
Her voice was soothing. "This's happening too fast for you, isn't it? All
these new sensations, these new feelings. It must be

very confusing."

I nodded meekly, sighed from the pit of my soul. The smell of smoke
mingled with her perfume to form an earthy scent.

"And," she chuckled, "I guess I did forget to order you something to
eat. Tell you what. Let's go back out there and make excuses and get out
of here. Okay?"

"Thank you, Ellen!"

"But I want you to do something for me first."

"Of course!"

"I want you to kiss him goodbye. A nice long kiss, like you mean it."

I lifted my wobbly head. My eyes were big as saucers and I'm sure my
pouty mouth hung open in shock. I started to ask her if she was serious,
but there was ice gleaming in her eyes. I dropped my gaze. I'd screwed up
so many times today that I'd lost count. I owed her whatever repayment she
demanded. I'd promised.

I barely heard my own voice. "You really want me to?"

"I do. Open your mouth. Use your tongue. I'll kiss mine, too - but
I'll be watching you. It'll make my cunt gush down my legs. It'll be fun
to watch them fall all over themselves, honey. They'll beg us to go out
with them. We'll give them a fake phone number, then I'll get you home and
feed you and sober you up. Deal?"

"I guess."

"Look at me," she demanded throatily, wiggling her skirt up, baring her
garters, then her naked cunt. "Look how fucking wet you make me, baby.
You turn me on so much it's killing me. I'm not hot because of those good
looking men. I'm dripping because I love watching you, Sheila.

Feel it, baby. Feel how wet I am."

I numbly reached down and rubbed her labia with a slender finger. She
purred, rocked her hips and took it a little inside. She was so slick, so
ready.

"That's what I want to kiss," I heard myself say. "That's where I want
my tongue."

She took a step back, her eyes deep pools of desire. "Not now. In the
car. On the way home. Just pretend his mouth is my cunt." She stretched
the black dress down over her hips, hiding her beautiful pussy.

She made me look at myself in the mirror. A reality check, she called
it. My own passion was as visible as my wife's. My nipples couldn't get
hard like hers, but my face reflected it just as deeply. Guiltily, I
smelled the finger that had caressed her. Her chuckle at my gesture was
low.

"Let's go do it," she said, "and get out of here before I **** you on
the spot."

Her left tit rubbed my right arm on the voyage back. I watched the
table approach, saw both men stand politely. They really were good
looking guys. Their suits were expensive. They were polite to a flaw, and
just a little forward. But then we looked like the kind of women who were
asking for male advances, so that was to be expected.

Ellen paused as we approached. "Sheila's not feeling well," I heard her
drone. We had to go. Disappointed noises from both. Ellen took us a step
closer. My eyes were locked on the one who'd picked me. Well trimmed dark
hair. Gleaming white teeth. Much taller than I was, and

vastly more muscular.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Ellen respond to the other one's faint
invitation and lean toward him. I mimicked her, refusing to think.

He gathered me up like I was a precious treasure. He enfolded me in
arms far more powerful than any I'd been in. His head bent toward mine and
my lips parted, just as they would have for Ellen. My arms went around his
waist.

His mouth was hard. His face was slightly scratchy. His tongue was
quick, agile, demanding. He ground his face against mine and took my mouth
with his own. There was no way I could pretend it was my wife. His
swollen groin was tight against my belly. When I pulled away, he

relented, released me. My lipstick decorated him like an indelible
stain, yet it vanished completely as he transferred it to his white silk
handkerchief. Did he have a wife who'd notice it, I wondered

stupidly, then tore my eyes away.

Ellen was completing the lie. Her desire-bruised lips were slightly
blurred, just as mine must be. I could make no sense of her words, just
waited patiently for her to finish. My man was saying something. I smiled
mechanically, my thundering pulse drowning out all sound. When Ellen
turned, so did I. We made our escape.

All I remember about the long trip back to the car is the way my body
moved. The plug buried in my ass caressed me with every short stride. My
hips felt loose, and I knew they swayed sexily. I didn't care. I felt my
breast forms bounce every time my high heels jarred against the

terrazzo floor. I felt the breeze of my movement lick my sleek thighs,
my long hair tickle my shoulders, the faint weight of the heavy earrings.
The corset's tightness was reassuring. My stone hard little cock, aimed
toward my warm ass cheeks, rubbed slightly between my thighs. I was as
drunk on sensation as I was on liquor.

I remember more about the drive home. I vividly recall burying my face
between Ellen's wantonly spread thighs as she sat behind the wheel. I knew
the windows were tinted and that my act would be unseen, but I'd have done
it anyway. I sucked and nibbled her through two restrained orgasms and was
working toward a third by the time we achieved the garage. She d**g me
away from her gaping cunt long enough to slide the seat back, then fucked
my face with crazed abandon, beating my chin with her hips. I don't think
she was even aware she was speaking.

"Oh, fuck me with that slutty tongue, baby. Stick it deep in me, just
like you did Cindy's nasty little hole. I almost died when you came out
with your clit and balls dangling down and your cum still in your hot
little whore's mouth. I saw how you kissed that guy, cunt. You loved it.
You let him tongue fuck your mouth, didn't you, you nasty little slut? You
felt how hard you made his big cock, didn't you? Every time you smoked, it
was like you were sucking a dick. The way you strutted through the mall
turned you on, didn't it? It made you feel like a tramp, didn't it? You
loved every minute of the whole fucking day, didn't you, baby?"

There was more. It was like each accusation, each question drove me
deeper into her slick slit. It was all true, every word of it. And I
wasn't ashamed. I felt no guilt. She was proud of me. This was what she
wanted. Atop my lust was an overlay of gratitude. I trusted her. She
knew what I wanted, what I needed. When she finally exploded, she did so
with v******e. She twisted my head, crushed my skull, jerked madly on my
hair. I felt my own orgasm trying to fill my panties, and somehow managed
to deny it. She hadn't given me permission.

The instant she threw me away from her, I rawly begged her to let me
finish myself. I was writhing with need, had to made fists of my hands to
keep them from my silky center.

Ellen sprawled obscenely against the driver's door, her dress around her
waist, her heavy tits exposed. Her nipples were immense. Her cunt lips
still pulsed. Her makeup was intact, although she'd gotten lipstick on her
teeth from biting her lower lip. She stared at me, had trouble lighting a
cigarette.

"Put your feet on the dashboard," she growled. "Open your legs as far
as you can."

I scrambled to do what she wanted.

"Reach down and show me your clit."

I jerked the panties away, loosed my purpled member from the restrainer,
displayed it, gasping, trying not to blow at the wonderful thrills created
by my touches.

"Bend forward as far as you can, slut. Try to suck it. Jack yourself
off. Shoot straight into your mouth."

I couldn't force the corset to bend much more and I whined in
frustration. She helped me, grabbing my ankles, forcing my knees higher.
It felt like I was being cut in half.

"Open those slimy lips, whore, and do it."

Two seconds later, I erupted. A gout of sperm splatted against my
forehead. A second struck my lower lip. The third landed on my heaving
chest. The rest simply drooled over my pumping fist. The instant she
released me, I started scooping up the fragrant, warm cum, eating it like
it was my favorite candy, wishing there was more.

"Good, baby," she cooed, "but not good enough. Let's get you inside.
I've got something I need to show you."

7. Chapter - Home Sweet Home

Later - much later, emotionally, if not by the clock - Ellen helped me
to bed. I needed every bit of assistance I could get. I'd been tied in a
position similar to, though more relaxed than the torturous bent forward
stance she'd employed the night before, and she'd taught me two very
important lessons. I was more accustomed to the squeeze of the corset and
the angle of the high heels, so that part of it wasn't nearly as agonizing.
The rest of the punishment, though, was much

more vicious than merely being spanked.

Ellen's first exercise was designed to illustrate how to suck cock. She
employed a strap-on dildo, one end of which was buried in the denuded cunt
still bearing my lipstick, and demanded that I perform fellatio on her
until my jaws ached and the back of my mouth was raw.

Begging her not to abuse my throat had proven worse than useless. As
she tapped her false cock against my sealed red lips, she reminded me of my
vow to do anything to earn her forgiveness. Would I prefer it if she went
to some bar and picked up a stranger equipped with the real thing and
brought him home for me? She'd be happy to drop to her knees in front of
me and lick its length, kiss its swollen head, and demonstrate first hand
how it should be done, if I wanted that. My answer was to part my lips and
ask her to tell me what to do.

The second lesson was how to take the same device, thickly greased, up
my stretched asshole. Relax, she'd urged as she pushed into me, and enjoy
it. The physical pain was much less than I expected. The butt plug must
have opened me up quite well, and the alcohol had deadened me. The
emotional trauma was much more severe.

My wife fucked my virgin ass - my cunt, she called it, her throat
clogged with lust - until the pressure of the dildo against her clit made
her cum. By then I was so delirious that I could almost feel the rubber
dong pulse and ripple in my gut as if it was expelling a huge load of sperm
deep into me.

Both were punishment for my slutty behavior at the beauty salon,
fulfillment of her earlier vow to treat me like a whore if I acted like
one. After her orgasm had eased, she gently withdrew her cock from me and
wiped it clean. As she used the warm, damp cloth to remove the messy
lubricant from my fiery red lower cheeks, she reached beneath me and
fondled my engorged cock, murmuring that I'd earned a reward. My hips
resumed the thrust they'd learned while she'd fucked me, and I watched
enthralled from between my spread, chained, hose clad legs, as her hand
glided over my long flesh, massaging it against the latex prick, heated by
my bowels and still strapped to her. I shrieked as I came, shooting my
jism all over her hand and the dildo.

When she moved back to my head, she didn't need to order me to lick the
shaft and her hand clean. That I was hungrily licking real cum from a cock
shaped toy was an irony that wasn't wasted on me.

Again I slept on the floor, chained to the bed frame, dressed in the
loosened corset and a different teddy. Ellen had coaxed my stunned brain
through the laborious process of removing all my makeup, explaining that it
wasn't good for my complexion to sleep in it, and showing me exactly how I
needed to care for my skin. I voided my violated bowels and easily
returned the ass plug to its home. In my exhaustion, even my
color-stripped face looked wholly female. I still

felt drunk, or d**gged. I wondered why I hadn't seen how feminine my
were features before, how I had truly been a woman awaiting her rebirth all
my life.

I silently cried myself to sleep, not because I was pain wracked from
her violation of me, not due to the cruelty of having every possible trace
of my masculinity erased - but because I'd loved almost everything that'd
happened to me, the whole day long. My thoughts weren't about how I could
restore myself back into maleness after my two week surprise vacation
ended, but rather to pray that I could somehow extend it forever.

It'd taken Ellen just over thirty-six hours to reveal, to myself and the
world at large, a side of myself I'd barely dared to even fantasize about.
While I'd sneakily worn her panties and dresses, this was what I'd wanted.
It'd been too horrifying, too perverse to admit, even in the darkest
recesses of my mind.

Even as I was wracked by silent sobs, I was wondering what my wife had
in mind for the next day. I knew that, no matter what I said, no matter
how strenuously I objected, I'd welcome whatever she made me do, no matter
how degrading.

My eagerness had passed by morning. The pain that hadn't been there the
night before throbbed in my ass, burned in the back of my mouth. My
calves, feet, and the small of my back were incredibly sore from wearing
the tall heels all day. My scalp itched like mad under the

permanently affixed wig. I had a hangover that felt like some insane
blacksmith was at work at an anvil between my ears. My stomach growled
with both hunger and nausea.

When Ellen released me, she didn't bother with shackles. I staggered
into the bathroom barefoot to take care of essential business. Unlike the
morning before, I couldn't bring myself to stand to urinate. I told myself
that was because I was so sick, and knew it was a lie. I sat on the toilet
ring because it would've been too shameful to act like I was still a man.
My penis and testicles were the only part of me that looked male, and I
couldn't bear the thought of peeing the old way. It would've been
shamefully hypocritical, a senseless denial of what had already become my
reality.

A long hot soak in a fragrant tub eased my physical woes, and a real, if
low-fat, breakfast lessened my psychic ones. Ellen weighed me. I was
astonished to see that I'd already lost five pounds. Her warning that the
next fifteen would be harder wasn't lost on me. I swallowed

my big "vitamin" with mixed feelings. I'd become aware how the large
dose of hormones had already affected my body. Part of me wished I could
swallow the entire bottle and accelerate the changes taking place. The
other part was ashamed to tears of that perverse desire.

She had me dress in the black corset, but left it moderately loose, and
had me cover it with the first casual clothes I'd worn in what seemed
forever. The new designer jeans were satisfyingly tight, and the three
inch heels were as easy to move in as tennis shoes had been in my old life.
I thought the green cotton blouse was flattering with the gold choker in
place of the leather collar I'd been wearing for the last two days. The
only makeup she allowed me was lipstick and mascara, which I had to do
myself.

I was still a pretty young woman, but one more suited to keeping house
than teasing cock at the mall. With rubber gloves protecting my too-long
nails, I set about cleaning the house with more gusto than I'd ever felt
before.

It was a purely domestic day, as were most of the two which followed.
There were no outrageous outside adventures. No shopping. No drinks at
bars. No scenes with other women - or men.

Ellen developed a routine for me. There were exercises designed to
limber me as well as work off pounds, without building ugly muscles. There
were daily lessons in feminine behavior and voice sessions every afternoon.
I gave myself two enemas every day. While grocery shopping

- our only trip out of the house during those three quiet days - my wife
bought me a videotape on cosmetics and demanded I memorize it, as well as
read every magazine article I could find on the same topic.

My feminine lifestyle quickly became second nature. I got so used to my
long silvery hair that I couldn't imagine having ever been without it. I
found I could do everything with my long painted nails that I'd done
before. The aches in my leg and back muscles eased and being

without high heels didn't feel normal. During rare moments without
breast forms and a butt plug, I felt like I'd been stripped of vital parts
of myself.

That was one of the most effective ways Ellen punished me. After
breaking one of our wedding wine glasses while unloading the dishwasher,
she angrily took off all my clothes and made me continue my chores nude
except for five inch heels and heavy rubber gloves. I hated the way my
cock and balls dangled, slapped against my smooth, hairless thighs with
every step. I felt fat and ugly with no corset to give me the lovely shape
I identified with. After an hour, I was in

tears, begging her to let me stretch my retainer over my male organs and
lace me back into a corset.

She was lounging in a hot bath while I cleaned the toilet and tile
floor. "You've broken something irreplaceable, Sheila. We toasted one
another with that glass at our wedding reception. After having destroyed a
symbol of our marriage, you ask me to lighten your punishment?"

"Just change it," I said in my more refined female voice. "Please,
Ellen. This is too ... too -"

"Humiliating? Disgraceful?" she mocked.

I nodded, unable to meet her eyes.

"If I let you start making amends, will you do everything I say for the
rest of the day without hesitation? No matter what it is?"

"Yes! I promise!"

She lay in the steaming water with her eyes closed for a moment. A
smile grew on her face. "Run to the vanity and bring back your favorite
lipstick, doll."

I took her order literally. Running in the tall heels was more scamper
than trot, but I'd become used to their limitations.

"Lay on your back on the floor."

The tile was cold.

"Raise your knees and spread your legs so you can see your clit. Good
girl. Take off your gloves. Now paint it with the lipstick. All of it. I
want it to be fuscia from top to bottom."

I stretched it, stroked the tube of vivid color up and down. It
hardened as I did, exposing yet more surface area to be coated. She
climbed from the tub, stood at my feet as I finished.

"Do your mouth, baby. Smear it on heavy."

The chills racing through me weren't caused by the cool floor. I ran
the lipstick over my mouth again and again until she nodded approval.

"Now jack off, bitch." She grabbed my ankles and bent me double, pushing
my knees as wide as they'd go. My shaft felt greasy in my palm, which was
instantly coated with bright color. She strained my back and neck muscles
until they screamed with pain, leaning all her weight on my comma shaped
body, forcing my cock closer and closer to my face.

"Pull your plug, cunt. Fuck your ass with the lipstick. No! Leave the
cap off the tube!"

The plug came out with the usual wet sensation. It was larger than the
lipstick, which slid easily inside my loosened hole. I held it so I could
see the dark plastic holder go in and out. My hand was a blur on my dick.
Slowly, my strained muscles let it come still closer to my slick red lips.

"Lick it, whore."

I strained my tongue as far as possible, but it wasn't far enough. I
was an inch away from the smeared, swollen purplish- red tip.

"Cum, lover. Shoot every drop right in your slutty little mouth."

As if her command was enough to make me explode, I did precisely what
she demanded. The closeup sight of my expanding, pulsing prick, the vision
of the first gout of sperm being expelled, the shocking sensation of my cum
spattering inside my gaping mouth - these factors seemed to quadruple the
intensity of my orgasm, send me into a realm beyond anything I'd ever
imagined. At that instant, my tongue somehow managed to make contact with
my leaping cock.

Something happened deep within my soul. Something irreversible. It was
like an electrical circuit had been closed, a psychic switch flipped. An
all new energy burned through me. It was entirely my imagination, but I
felt the whole length of my dick slide between my lips, into my mouth, down
my throat. All this in the split second before the second burst of cum hit
my hard palate, instantly followed by the third and fourth. By then, my
entire body was involved in the

mind-boggling climax. My ass was spasming around the lipstick tube,
squeezing it like a pussy does a cock. My hips were desperately trying to
fuck my mouth.

As the surges began to fade, my universe expanded beyond my body. I
heard my harsh gasps for air, Ellen's thick voiced encouragements. The
heel of one of my red shoes was buried in her cunt. But, above all, the
wonderful ripeness of my cum coated my mouth and tongue and soul.

I'd been made whole. A single touch of tongue to cock had made all the
difference in the world.

I caught the last oozes and dribbles in my cupped palm, milked my staff
with my lipstick covered fist, and licked it clean with a voracious hunger.
I'd stepped over a precipice and was still falling. My taste had been
whetted, not appeased. I wanted more - craved a steady flow of sperm down
my throat, not the teasing appetizer I'd given myself. I knew I'd gone mad
and I welcomed it.

Ellen disrupted my delirious reverie by lifting herself off my spike
heel and dropping my rubbery legs. She fell atop me, her hips thrusting
incoherently against my shrinking dick, her lips devouring mine, her tongue
frantic to share the flavor of my sperm. I felt the lipstick tube slip
from my ass. I opened my jaws to my wife, letting her lap from my cavity
like a dog does from a bowl. She too was cumming, using my spent rod to
rub her clit.

When she abruptly jerked away from me, her face bore an expression that
was as crazed as mine must have been. Her voice was low and raw. "Wash
the slime off your face and hands, whore. Leave everything else exactly as
it is and have your nasty ass in the bedroom in three

minutes."

She bolted from the bathroom like a berserker before I could move.
Every muscle in my body was relaxed. Pushing myself to my knees took a
massive effort. But I could almost hear a clock ticking off the seconds in
my head. I was infected by her wild energy. I scrubbed at my face and
hands, whining with frustration at the stubbornness of the lipstick's
stains.

I had no idea if I met her deadline. Neither did Ellen. She was
throwing clothes at the bed as I hurried on wobbly legs into the bedroom.

"Get dressed, you sleazy cunt."

I tried to be careful not to smear my lipsticked cock and ass on my
hands as I arranged my organs in the tight grip of the retainer. I
squirmed into the red corset while she lit a cigarette and stared at me
through narrowed, smoldering eyes. I rolled up equally red hose, stepped
into scarlet bikini panties. I looked around for an ass plug. There was
none. I looked at her helplessly, seeking guidance.

She grabbed the laces of the corset and began hooking me into it. Never
had she used such strength, restrained me so impossibly tight. Even
without the gel filled breast forms, my tit flesh bulged into the cups. My
nipples were nearly as swollen as my wife's. And I wished it was tighter
still. I ached for my tits to fill the cups to overflowing.

She tied me off and roughly pushed me toward the vanity. "Paint
yourself, slut. We're going out. We're going to get you laid for real.
Make yourself look like the whore you are, Sheila. If you don't use enough
makeup, I'll make you watch while some real man drills my cunt, then make
you lick his cum out of me."

I was utterly infected. I wanted that. I wanted to lay helplessly
beside her while a long fat prick drilled her wet pussy. I wanted to hear
her cries, watch her humping, spasming body. My mouth watered at the
thought of tasting her cum mixed with someone's sperm. It would've

been more like reward than punishment.

I created a face just as slutty as she wanted because I wanted it as
much as she did - maybe even more. I felt hollow, empty. I was going to
be fucked. By a man.

"Good," she growled, rubbing her cunt against the back of my head. She
ran a dildo over my cheek. "Use this on yourself while I do my makeup.
Don't even think about cumming again."

I flopped on the bed, curled my sexy legs to my chest and stroked the
long thin rubber cock in and out of my lipstick slickened ass while I
watched her. It was good. Very good.

I won't lie. I won't claim that everything that happened that night was
because of Ellen's dominance. That had nothing to do with it. I did it
all on my own. My mind remained filled with a haze as thick as my cum. It
allowed only surreal images of twisted lust to take shape. I was
possessed.

I spoke the name of the notorious bi-sexual bar through lips too heavy
with lipstick and gloss. I drove us there while she used the dildo on her
gushing pussy. I licked it clean after each of her two orgasms. I asked
her for a cigarette after we parked, after I'd freshened my wet red lips,
just before I led our pranced entrance. I sucked smoke as I scanned the
crowd, found us a table. I crossed my legs so anyone who cared to got a
good look at my long thighs.

I was completely devoid of shame. I selected and rejected my dance
partners, seeking just the right man. I found him after about a half hour.
I forgot about Ellen, who was on the dance floor dry fucking some guy. I
was at the table, working on my second drink and my third cigarette. I
wanted him the moment he sat in my wife's empty chair. My half hard clit
lurched toward the crack of my ass. My lips ached to be crushed under his,
and I unabashedly let him know it.

He wanted to dance first. I felt his cock swell against my belly as I
pressed into him. It was for me. His cum was for me. I wrapped my arms
around his neck and strained against him. I stood on tiptoe and claimed
his mouth, drove my tongue between his parted lips exactly like I wanted
his prick to take me. He finally got the idea. I was no nice girl playing
the dating game. I was a wanton slut who only wanted his meat.

Ellen had guided her partner near us and caught my eye. Her hand was
openly rubbing her man's cock. Her mouth was smeared. Her nipples were
twin bullets trying to tear through her black cocktail dress. Her
gyrations on the dance floor had raised her skirt high enough to expose

the tops of her hose. Her eyes were glowing embers, drilling into me.

I was looking at her while I licked my date's ear and whispered into it.
"I want to suck your cock. I need your cum."

I led him to our car, pushed him into the back seat. My quaking hand
was on his zipper before he was settled against the far door. When I felt
the heat of his long, stiff, smooth cock in my hands, I froze. A wild
thrill ripped up my spine, exploded against the top of my skull, s**ttering
hot sparks everywhere. Time slowed. I watched my lovely hands drag it out
into view. My little fists encircled it, traveled its length, measured its
girth. My mouth filled with saliva. This was

it. The time had come. My head was pulled toward his lap by an
irresistible force.

I already knew what it'd feel like, taste like, look like. There were
no surprises. Far, far back, in the dark corners of my mind, I'd imagined
this all my life. Since puberty, I'd craved this. My passion-heavy red
lips met the tip of his prick, kissed it tenderly, like a long lost lover.

I knew what to do. I knew how to make him as crazy with need as I was.
No born-woman could know what I did about how to please a man.

I made love to a disembodied cock, not the nameless man it was attached
to. I licked and sucked and kissed. I ran him into and out of my mouth,
fondling his heavy, hairy balls, flirting with his ass, occasionally
gasping and shuddering and having to just jack him off as I was consumed
with wild ecstasy.

He came too soon. I almost missed it. I had to lunge down on him as
his groans suddenly changed tone, as I felt his dick harden yet more and
begin its preliminary twitching. My head bobbed up and down, taking as
much splendor into my mouth as I could manage.

When the first gush came, I was ready. I tightened my lips on him and
began my own orgasm as his seed hit the top of my throat with marvelous
force. I wanted to remember each pulse, each gout, each choked swallow -
but I lost track. Specifics faded beneath the groundswell of my

fulfillment. All I recall is drinking him dry, trying to suck him hard
again, and being pushed away.

He was too sensitive, he said. I was hurting him. I didn't care. I
wanted that fine prick in my readied ass. It was literally pulsing with
need. And he wasn't interested. I watched in angry disbelief as he put
his cock away. He said he wasn't into being watched and slipped out the
door behind him.

That was the first indication I had of my wife's presence. I swept my
hair out of my eyes and looked over my shoulder. She was leaning against
the car next to ours fingering her cunt, pinching her carelessly bared
tits. I leaned into the front seat, grabbed the dildo she'd left laying
there. I held it out to her, positioned myself on all fours on the seat.

Ellen lurched forward and took over. The second she drove it between my
ass cheeks, I came again. She blocked my raw scream with her hand and
fucked me with just the savagery I needed. She kept it up even after my
arms collapsed, dropping my face onto the upholstery. She

continued, using both hands, while the seat muffled my choked sobs and
wails. I'm nearly positive I had yet a third orgasm before her arms tired,
but by then I was reduced to delirium. My hips had a life of their own,
kept rolling and thrusting long after the dildo squirted from my hungry
hole and clunked to the floorboard.

8. Chapter - Aftermath

I recall nothing more until Ellen slapped me awake. She was standing
impatiently outside the opened car door.

"Wake up, slut. Time for bed."

I was still in the back seat, but the car was now in our garage. I was
on my back, my knees lifted, with the long dildo hugged tight to my chest.
I awoke with full knowledge of where we'd been, what I'd done. I sucked a
harsh breath and groaned when I tried to move. My ass felt

like the dildo was still inside, heated white hot. The man's cum was
sour in my mouth. An emotion was building in me that I couldn't name.

I saw the next slap coming, but was too sluggish to avoid it.

"I said move, goddamn it!"

I moved. I dragged myself upright. Clambering out of the car and
finding my balance took enormous energy. My compressed, underclad body
weighed tons. I wasn't fast enough for her.

My wife grabbed my long tangled mane and jerked hard. I staggered after
her, off balance, bent forward, flailing my arms to keep from falling.

"You're hurting me," I whined piteously. The back of my mouth was sore
and my jaws ached.

Her only response was to bark a nasty laugh and walk more quickly. The
kitchen again. This time I knew exactly why I was being punished, and
offered no resistance as she put my ankles in a spreader bar I'd never seen
before, cuffed my hands behind me and lifted them toward the

ceiling, bending me into a right angle. She left me there. I was
afraid that I'd collapse and dislocate my shoulders. I hadn't even managed
to adjust to the position before she returned, carrying a full length
mirror. She lowered it to the floor and slid it under me, between my
widely spread legs.

She lit a cigarette. She'd repaired her beautifully sexy face somewhere
along the line. She didn't seem as angry. "Look at yourself, Sheila. I
never want you to forget this."

I was stunned, as if she'd slapped me again. First, of course, I saw my
face. My tangled platinum blonde hair hung down, framing my totally ruined
heavy makeup. My eyes were surrounded by wide black circles of blurred
eyeliner and mascara. The remaining deep emerald and rust eyeshadow looked
bland. My lips looked bruised, were ringed with a wide smear that was all
that remained of my thick lipstick. My false tits looked huge with my
shoulders pinned back. The hem of my wrinkled red minidress had risen, but
I'd have been able to see all the way up anyway from this angle. Where had
the little red panties gone? My retainer dug into the soft flesh of my
groin, hugging my male organs into invisibility. The pale, slim thighs
below were caked with dried cum. My vision swam for a moment. I thought
it was his, that there was a beautiful cunt hidden in there, that it'd
leaked the some of the sperm he'd shot so deeply into my soul.

The stark light of the camera's flash attachment as Ellen photographed
me from every angle jerked me back toward reality.

"Pose for me, baby. Push that great butt out. Can you see how red it
is around your asshole? You were fucked good, whore. Too bad it wasn't
the real thing in there. It'd have felt as good as it did in your throat.
But you know that, right? You wanted it, but the fucker let you down,
didn't he?"

I nodded, remembered to add a verbal "Yes," as well.

"But you know there'll be other times. Any bitch as hot as you are can
get fucked anytime you want. And a nympho cunt like you will want it a
lot. You'll have so many dicks shoved in that tight ass and between those
cocksucking lips that you'll lose count of them."

She fed me the cigarette. I watched my lips suck it, my chest expand as
much as it could given my restraints, then my mouth purse as I exhaled. I
felt her doing something to my left hand, realized she was removing my
wedding band. I'd noted its incongruity once or twice. As

Ellen twisted it off my finger, I realized just how wrong it was to wear
it any longer. Women don't wear wide gold bands. They can't be married
other women in our state. I tried and failed to blink away a rush of
tears. Suddenly, the name of the dull emotion filling me had a name.

It was grief. I was mourning my own death. Ellen's husband was dead,
gone forever. Shamelessly begging to suck that cock, thrilling to each and
every sensation, had sealed his fate, made his resurrection, not merely
unlikely, but impossible. I was Sheila now, body and soul.

I was surprised to feel her doing something else to my ring finger. A
new ring, lighter, thinner, slipped over my knuckle. I strained my neck
but couldn't see it. She slid her hand down my back, cupped my ass cheeks
and petted them.

"How much money do we have in savings?"

Her finger distracted me as it toyed with my tender asshole. Her
question made no sense for a moment. I sniffed away tears enough to speak.
"I, uh, about two thousand, I guess."

"Good. That'll get us started."

"Started?"

"You want real tits, don't you? They cost money, darling. More like
five thousand than two, I think."

Her finger dipped inside me. My eyes locked on the reflection of my
chest in the mirror. Real tits. Nice big, firm mounds hanging there. To
overflow my slinky bras. To fill a bikini top on the beach. To be petted,
sucked and bitten.

Her voice was dim in my ears. She inserted a second finger. "Umm. I
knew that'd turn you on, slut. We'll shave your larynx and change your
voice while we're at it. Maybe someday we'll be able to buy you a nice
tight cunt, too. Have a doctor gut that useless prick and tuck it away

inside you. You'd have three holes, whore. Room for three cocks at the
same time. You'd like that. Three men fucking you. Hands all over you,
driving you crazy with lust."

Her other hand rubbed my too big clit while her fingers wiggled within
me. I was thrusting against her, watching my sleazy lips pant as my
passion again spiraled toward a new peak.

"Oh, honey," I groaned weakly. "Oh, shit. Fuck me, Ellen. Put
something big and fat in me. Something hot and hard. I need it, honey. I
need it bad."

She laughed merrily. "I've got just the thing. I've been saving it for
a special time like this. Ron? Baby, come on in here."

I saw my shock in the mirror more than I felt it. Ron? We had a
neighbor named Ron. A body-builder our age. Married to a dull, silent
girl named Miriam.

Before I could even shape the question in my mind, it was answered. I
saw a pair of hairy, pillar-like legs approach. Barefoot.

"Take over up here," she purred throatily, withdrawing her fingers from
my ass. "I'll get you ready."

Thicker fingers replaced hers, entered me without delicacy. I saw Ellen
sink to her knees, peer at me from between my legs. She licked her
gleaming scarlet lips. Her hands weighed a huge, hairy pair of balls,
massaged a growing cock. Without taking her eyes off me, she kissed its
swelling head, licked it with a lascivious tongue.

"Yeah, I've been fucking Ron for almost a year, Sheila. I love you, but
your puny prick was never enough for me. Fucking you was always more like
screwing a woman with a cock than being with a real man."

Ron laughed at that, making his dick leap in her hand. She gave it a
more lingering kiss, allowing the whole head to enter her mouth, and
moaning around it. Saliva and lipstick clung to it as she let it pop out.

"We fucked with you right in the next room lots of times, Sheila. We
were doing it in the pool house at the Robinson's party when I told him how
much you got off sneaking around in my lingerie. He was the one who
suggested that we bring you out of the closet, cunt. He saw you

staring at his crotch a couple of times and knew how much you'd love
fucking other guys. He helped me plan the whole thing. He deserves a good
fuck, don't you think? He deserves to be the first to dump a wad in your
ass. Give him a good ride, baby."

She guided his swollen, slickened dick between my cheeks. Her eyes
glittered and her lips were parted as she teased me, rubbing the head
around my puckered hole. What she said was true. I'd noticed the size of
his manhood with what I thought was shameful envy. Now I knew

better. It was desire.

My hole was slick and ready. I tried to push against Ron's hard on.
Ellen backed his cock away, continued her maddening flirtation. "Tell him
what you want, Sheila."

I knew I was doing exactly as she'd said I would. I was begging to be
ass fucked. Without hesitation, I let my needs roll from my slutty mouth.
"Fuck me, Ron. Fuck my ass hard and deep. Please. Give me what you've
been giving Ellen. Cum in me. I need you. I've wanted you ever since I
watched you move in last year. Ram that fat cock all the way in and fuck
me like a whore."

It was nothing like the dildos Ellen had impaled in me. It was hot,
both hard and silky soft - alive! And, it was huge. As he thrust in that
first few inches, I felt myself stretching, and was filled with a burning
agony. If I could have spoken then, I'd have been begging him to stop. I
couldn't. My lips gaped, made a horrified red circle in the mirror. My
heavily made up eyes were huge. Ron yelled in pain and slapped my ass with
a hard, resounding smack. "Relax, cunt! You're hurting me!"

I gasped for breath tried to concentrate on doing what he said. I must
have achieved it, because he slid in deeper, then began a slow pumping.
Each push lessened the pain. The heat of him, the overwhelming fullness of
my ass, felt unlike anything I'd ever known. The mirror

showed his thick shaft disappearing and emerging from my body. Ellen
looked as enraptured as I was. She had one hand in her cunt, was making
wet noises with her fingers. She used the other to alternately hold her
lover's balls and caress my hidden ones.

Overcome with lust, Ron gave up on gentleness. He took my narrow hips
in his hands and pushed hard, forcing the last half of his meat all the way
in. He started slamming into my ass then, without concern for my comfort.
After three of four of his grunting thrusts, I no longer cared. It still
hurt, but the pain became secondary. The sights and sounds and sensations
transported me, mutated the agony, changed it to joy. I started wiggling
my hips, pushed back to greet his plunging cock. I was fucking my wife's
lover, not merely being fucked by him.

It lasted forever and was over too soon. I don't remember Ellen jerking
my retainer off my male organs. I don't know when she started sucking my
straining clit. But I do know that when Ron's pace became frantic, when
his impacts started jarring my teeth and I was positive he was going to
fill me with his cum, I exploded in my wife's hungry mouth with enough
force to gag her.

But, glorious as that was, it paled in significance when Ron blew his
wad in my guts. I closed my eyes. I swear to god I felt his jerking spew
all the way to my throat. I milked him, did my best to squeeze every drop
of his precious sperm from him.

As his pulsing diminished, I felt soft lips on mine, tasted the tangy
cum coating them. I returned Ellen's impassioned kiss, sucked my cum from
her full mouth.

Finally, I was whole.

"Thank you," I murmured into her mouth, making our kiss tender, more
loving than I'd known a kiss could be.

My knees were too weak to support me. When they collapsed, my shoulders
were wrenched hideously. Had Ron not still been gripping my hips, I'd have
dislocated them both. He held me up, his cock shrinking rapidly in my ass,
while Ellen stumbled to her feet and dashed for the

rope. As she released it, our lover lowered me to the cold mirror. I
felt his jism leaking from my hole, warm and sticky, as he pulled out. One
of them freed my arms from the handcuffs.

I lay there on my side, frail and helpless, while Ellen and Ron
embraced. Her hand massaged his limp dick while he crushed her against him
and she strained against his hard lips.

She tore her mouth from his. "I want you," she growled. "It's my
turn." She jerked her head to face me. "Get him hard for me, slut."

She led him by the dick to me, pushed him down toward my face. I bathed
his spent flesh in hot, wet, hungry kisses, tenderly took it into my mouth
and nursed on it, felt it begin to swell, fill my cavity. The second prick
to visit my mouth tasted nothing like the first, felt even better. But
Ellen deprived me of it as soon as I'd gotten it hard. She positioned
herself on her hands and knees beside me, guided the pole in her hand
between spread thighs. Her eyes closed blissfully

as he entered her. I reached out and started squeezing her dangling
tits. Ron batted my hands away and grabbed them himself, using them for
handles as he rode her, just as savagely as he had me.

His violent thrusts moved her face closer to me. When her eyes opened,
they were glassy with lust. She attacked my mouth with hers, grunted into
me each time he hammered her. When she started cumming, she bit my lower
lip. Each time she spasmed, she bit harder. When he suddenly

stopped, she whined in shock and need.

His voice was a snarl. "Slide under your cunt of a wife, bitch. Lick
my balls while I fuck her. See how a real woman takes a dick."

I scrambled to obey. I not only kissed and sucked his balls, I also
flicked my tongue over Ellen's swollen clit, lapped the fluids that
overflowed her pussy. Her lips were on my organ again, lapping the cum
that'd oozed from my ass. I was still so loose that her tongue actually
entered me. I humped her face like the wanton slut I was. I had no more
boundaries. A lifetime of limits, of denial, rolled off me like a shed
skin. I embraced my new existence, fit both Ron's tender balls between
widely opened lips and rolled my wife's clit with unabashed abandon.

She began another series of orgasms, had to give up my little dick in
order to howl and scream. I released Ron's testicles when I felt them
tighten. It was astounding to see his huge rod swell and throb and fill
her twitching cunt with another load of cum. As it leaked past her labia,
I devoured it, eliciting still more shrieks from her. Ron jerked out and
rolled away, gasping for breath. I devoured her vacated hole, and she
continued to cum, continued to shrilly cry out,

wracked by spasms I refused to let end.

Finally, sobbing, she fell on top of me, moving her throbbing groin out
of reach.

A sated, warm relaxation enveloped me. I only vaguely recall the chill
when Ellen rolled off me. She and Ron spoke softly, but I could make no
sense of their words. I sank into a deep peaceful sleep.

9. Chapter - Awakening

There was a vague noise. It was dark. The bed was far too hard, too
cold. I was curled into a tight ball. When I began to roll over, I was
ripped by pain. My ass. My jaws. My shoulders. I moaned.

"Wake up, whore." The ceiling light flared blindingly.

Memory filled me, and my pain was explained. I was still on the kitchen
floor.

Ellen leaned against the doorframe, smoking. She wore only high heels
and hose. Her nipples were swollen. Bite marks decorated the slope of her
tits. Her makeup was mostly gone. What remained made her look cheap, used
- and beautiful.

I tried to speak. My throat was dry, raw, emitted only a croak.

"Ron went home," she explained. "We're through with the bed. Get your
sleazy ass up there."

I was afraid I'd have to crawl up the stairs, but somehow managed to
climb painfully to my feet. I used the walls to keep myself erect and
followed her swaying ass and trail of smoke.

She released me from the corset and made me sleep in the huge wet spot
they'd left on the sheets. Each breath filled me with the perfume of their
fucking. I'd been good enough to earn a night in bed. No chains. The
world faded again.

It was still dark when I awoke, my bowels and bladder both demanding
relief. I eased Ellen's arm off me and tiptoed into the bathroom. It hurt
so much that I was afraid I was shitting blood, but my stool looked
perfectly normal. Wiping was agonizing. I shuddered a little, remembering
how huge Ron had felt in me, and hoped that being fucked wasn't always
going to hurt so much.

I steeled myself before using the mirror, but the glass wasn't the enemy
it had been. Even without the corset, I was able to convince myself that
my image was that of an undeveloped - rather, a developing - woman. Those
sweet lips had hosted two cocks after all, and the

dimpled ass had taken its first prick. I squeezed and lifted my chest.
If I continued to please Ellen, my tits would grow into firm globes like
hers. Men could suck them, slide their greased dicks between them as I
pressed them together. I'd could kiss the cock heads at the top of their
thrusts, watch them swell and eject their sperm all over my face.

I renewed my vow to be good and fought down the urge to stroke my hard
clit.

I was ready to turn off the light and go back to bed when I finally
noticed the ring. Where my wedding band had been was a small diamond
engagement ring. A stab of sadness knifed me, the grief that'd been cut
off before. I hurriedly flicked off the light, but the emotion wasn't so
easily banished. It clung to me like stale sperm, refusing to allow me to
get back to sleep.

Mourning my own death was hard. There was no corpse to shed tears over,
nothing to bury so the healing could begin. I lay there until Ellen awoke.
I went through the motions of bathing, dressing, applying my makeup,
fetching and carrying for her on command. If she noticed my

silent anguish, she made no comment.

After I'd done the breakfast dishes, she had me give us both manicures.
She was surly, terse, easily upset. She smoked heavily and her every word
dripped with scorn. Nothing I did was quite good enough. I was extremely
cautious, not wanting to do anything to upset her further. A

sinking feeling was added to my vague sorrow. Something was wrong. She
left me to do my chores and vanished into our bedroom.

It was a little after two in the afternoon when she came downstairs,
dressed to kill in the wet looking black minidress and metal-tipped
stiletto heels. Her makeup and bearing were those of a *********. I was
nearly finished mopping the kitchen floor. She stood close enough to let
me see that, as before, her shaven cunt was exposed between her mesh hose
and garter belt. I felt plain in my work clothes and minimal makeup.

"I'm going out. I want you to meet me in the airport Hilton bar at
eight. Wear something really slutty, Sheila. There's someone I want you
to meet."

"Are you ..." I swallowed. "Is Ron ..."

"This has nothing to do with Ron, darling. It's strictly for us. But
it's very important - maybe the most important date you'll ever have - so
look your best. Understand?"

I let my eyes fall from her moist pussy back to the vinyl. "Do you have
to go so early? I mean -"

Her smoky laugh was sharp enough to interrupt me. "Is my little fag
bitch scared to be alone? Or just jealous that I may be getting my brains
fucked out while you're doing housework?"

I blushed. "You've never left me by myself before."

"Of course I have, love. At the beauty salon, and right here in this
room. You've spent hours all by yourself. Your chains and ropes are just
invisible now." She stroked my long hair, pulled my head against her belly,
rubbed my cheek over her sleekly covered mons. "Would you like to kiss my
pussy goodbye? Get it nice and moist for the cock that may be in it in a
while?"

I nodded. She planted her feet to either side of my head. I slid the
skirt up and exposed her brown-lipped lower mouth. She rocked up and down
on my tongue and nose until my face was wet with her flow. As I ate her, I
was overcome with desire. She was going out, going to get herself laid for
some mysterious purpose, and I was preparing her for whoever would part
these very lips with a prick. I wondered how often she'd done this sort of
thing without my knowledge. I wondered how many men had fucked her eager
pussy while I watched a stupid football games or stayed late at the office.
I wondered if Ron knew what a slut she was. And, I wondered who she'd
fixed me up with, who'd be fucking my ass or mouth in a few hours - and why
it was so important.

She abruptly jerked her flooded core from my hungry mouth, ending my
lusty reverie. Her voice was low and throaty. "Take off your blouse,
baby. I need to tighten your corset before I leave."

It was the red one. As she strained against the laces, compressing my
waist to at least twenty-two inches, I was already visualizing what I'd
wear to meet her. How many loads of cum would her body have absorbed by
the time I arrived? A sudden thought stopped my impassioned

planning. "How will I get there? To the hotel?"

"A cab, of course. I left twenty dollars on the vanity."

Somehow the idea of taking a taxi was more intimidating than getting
dressed to go fuck some stranger. I tried to hide my nerves, as well as my
shameful excitement. Her crooked scarlet smile told me I failed at both.
She tied off my laces, smoothed her dress to cover as much as it could, and
swayed out without another word. I listened as her metal shod heels
clacked over the floor, silently crossed the carpet, then echoed for a few
strides in the garage. The door ground open. I

watched from the window as she backed down the drive, cigarette dangling
between slick, fat red lips. I saw Jerome Hillyard, our neighbor across
the street, stare open mouthed at the change that'd taken place in her.
Had he done more than stare? Had she fucked him, too? How many of our
neighbors had dipped their wicks in Ellen's hot hole? A lot of them, I
perversely hoped, twisting the engagement band circling my ring finger.

I fought the urge to dash upstairs and begin getting ready. It was too
soon. And Ellen had made it clear that she expected all my work to be done
before I left the house. I compelled myself to settle down and do the
laundry.

I'd barely fixed my lipstick and gotten started when the doorbell rang.
I froze in the midst of loading the dryer with damp lingerie. I couldn't
answer the door! What if it was Jerome, or some other acquaintance? I
couldn't let anybody see me like this! I decided to ignore it, pretend I
wasn't home. But whoever was there leaned insistently on the buzzer.

I peeked from the laundry room window, was simultaneously thrilled and
dismayed to see that it was Ron. I was hesitant to let him in without
Ellen there. He'd want to know where she'd gone, what she was doing. He
was liable to fly into a jealous rage. But he obviously wasn't

going to leave.

Checking my face in the mirror, I fluffed my hair a little and hurried
nervously to the door. I wouldn't let him in. I'd tell him we were busy,
that I'd have Ellen call as soon as she could.

But, the instant I opened the door a crack, he pushed it wider and
stepped past me.

"Ellen's busy," I blurted, hiding behind the door, leaving it open.
"Maybe you should come back -"

"Ellen's gone. I saw the car drive up the block a few minutes ago." He
ambled insolently to the couch and sat down.

"Then what ..." I began, but my voice failed me. Was he here to see me?

"Close the door and come over here, bitch. I've been thinking about
that tight asshole of yours all day. I want another piece of it."

I blushed, both fearful and flattered. I was sure Ellen wouldn't want
him to use me unless she was here to watch. He was her boyfriend, after
all. "I don't think that's a good idea, Ron." I kept the door cracked.

"Oh, come off it, slut! Don't play hard to get. We both know that's
pure bullshit. You know you want it. You let me know last night how much
you liked it. So get your sleazy ass over here. Wrap those hot lips
around my dick and let me fuck that sexy face. If you're real good, I may
even let you jack off while I drill your ass."

He was right, of course. I did want it. I had the instant I saw him
through the window. I vividly remembered how grand it'd been to be filled,
stretched, used like I was a real woman. Honestly, part of his
attractiveness was because he was Ellen's lover. Having the prick that'd
been in her so many times rammed into me made me feel even more weak kneed.
It'd be wicked to fuck him behind her back. But, if I got caught ...

Wickedness won out. Besides, if I resisted, he'd just take me anyway.
What could I do? Call the police and scream ****? Run madly from the
house? I leaned against the door and flipped the deadbolt.

He wasn't into small talk or foreplay. As I approached, both eager and
timid, Ron pointed to the floor between his legs. I sank to my knees,
staring at the growing lump hidden by his shorts. It knew how large it
was, what it tasted like. And this time, I didn't have to share it with
anyone. I was alone with my first man. I was betraying Ellen just like
she had me. I was as big a whore as she was. Saliva began to fill my
mouth.

But I wanted information along with his dick. I wanted to know how
large a role he'd played in changing me into the cock hungry bitch I'd
become in less than a week. So, as I reached out to lightly massage his
cock, I licked my lips and tried to milk him of more than his cum.

"I meant to thank you last night for everything you've done to help
Ellen."

His laugh was brutal. "Jesus. I can't believe you're really into it
this much. How can any man let this happen to him without a fight?"

I slowly lowered his zipper. "I'm not just any man," I told his
swelling groin. "I've always been a wimp. I think I've wanted to be like
this all my life, but never had the courage to admit it. I thought you
knew that."

"Not until Ellen told me about how much you got off on her clothes and
shit."

My hand reached his flesh. It was so warm, so silky. "I wish she'd
told you sooner. How long did you two plan this?"

He drew a harsh breath as I fished his manhood from his underwear and
loose shorts. It was beautiful. It nestled against my curved red nails
like an eager pet begging to be stroked.

"Six months or so, I guess. God, you're sexy. Kiss it, bitch."

I teased the head with my tongue. I wanted the whole thing buried in my
throat, but was enraptured with the power of my situation. Ellen had made
me beg. Ron had, too, the night before. I wanted to turn the tables. He
already wanted me, but I needed him to crave me, to plead with me.

"Tell me about it. It's so exciting, Ron. I want to hear everything."

While I tinted his cock flesh with my brilliant lip color, while I
licked his hairy sack, I prompted him to keep talking.

"I knew the look," he groaned. "Guys have been looking at my dick in
the shower, just the way you did, ever since I was a k**. I knew right off
you were a fag, and couldn't figure out why a gorgeous bitch like Ellen
stayed with you. Ooh, shit. Deeper, baby."

I tried to angle my head, to fit more of him between my bulging lips.
Pink saliva glistened the length of his rod. It felt like my mouth had
been designed to do this. "More," I gasped. "Tell me more."

"Ahh! That's it!" he groaned as my questing lips took more meat,
stretched to reach for his balls. His hips started to rise and fall.
"Ellen laughed when I told her how you looked at me. That's when she
started watching you closer and caught you messing around in her shit. I
told her I thought you'd make a hot looking slut. God, was I ever right!
Oh, yeah! Suck it, baby!"

I was thrilled beyond words when my throat seemed to open and I
swallowed him. My smeared lips nestled at the very root of his prick. I'd
done it! I stayed there, immobile but for my spasming throat and questing
lips, until black motes swam before my eyes and I was compelled to release
him and gasp air. I stared down in astonishment at his glistening eight
inches. I was ready to cum. I resisted the impulse to reach down and
touch myself and rocket into heaven. I wanted this to last. I wanted to
hear more. I was certain I could make him tell me whatever I wanted.

"You wanted me, too," I purred, lapping the length of his staff with my
tongue. "You've always wanted me to suck your cock, haven't you?"

"Yeah. I knew you'd be good. Almost every time I fucked Ellen, I
dreamed of you looking like this, doing this. I wanted to hurry things
along. Your bitch of a wife insisted we had to go slow."

"Umm," I said, taking him half way in then backing off. "Good things
come to those who wait, lover. Am I as good as she is?"

"Better," he growled, grabbing my hair and jerking my head down. Now
that I knew how, I let him impale every wonderful inch into me. "She won't
let me fuck her ass, and deep throat makes her puke."

He humped my mouth until I was afraid I was going to pass out. I had to
struggle free. My voice was raw. I felt crazed by my need for what was
happening. But there was still a glimmer of caginess left in me, as if it
was part of my widening lust. "You can do anything you want

to me. I don't care. The dirtier and nastier, the better. I love
being treated like a cheap whore. Was that your idea, too?"

"Yeah. Nothing turns my crank more than sluts in tight dresses and wild
makeup. The first time I made Ellen dress up for me, I fucked her for four
hours non-stop. I made her cum until she begged me to quit. She loved it,
too. I knew she would. Anybody who wanted to turn her old man into a
fucking woman had to be really twisted. Turns out she couldn't get enough
after that."

I was pumping him with both hands, letting my mouth writhe over the top
half of his erection. I didn't know how much more I could take. My
sphincter muscles were tightening and loosening on my butt plug. My ass
felt moist, more than ready.

"Did you make her fuck other guys? Did you make her dress cheap and
take her out and show her off?"

He was close to losing control. "We went to parties. It was her idea.
But she never hosed anybody else. I wondered if maybe she wanted to, but
it ever happened. I let her flirt, dance, make them hot, then I'd take her
into a bedroom and fuck her stupid. We'd go back and party

some more and my cum would be running down her legs." He struggled up in
the sofa, tried to pry me off his cock. "Has she been fucking around? Has
she?"

"No!" I insisted, kissing just the head of his hard treasure. "Of
course not! You keep her so well fucked, how could she?"

"Have you fucked her, slut? Have you poked that little dick of your
inside her pussy?"

I pulled on his cock and backed away from the sofa. "Not for almost a
month - and never again. I eat her whenever she wants. I can make her cum
with my tongue better than I ever could the other way. Come here, Ron.
I'm so fucking hot. My ass needs you so bad. Fuck me. Please. Fill my
hot little ass with that huge thing. Make me scream. Fuck me hard and
mean and shoot your cum way, way up inside me. Tell me what's going to
happen next, baby."

He stroked himself, staring at me with burning eyes while I wiggled out
of my tight jeans. I'm not even sure he knew he was speaking.

"She going to do like she said. She's going to get you tits. Make you
get a job as a woman. She says she's got friends who can help."

I curled my legs up toward my chest, spread my ass cheeks so he could
see me remove my plug. The sensation of having him watch me readying
myself for him was a thrill as intense as swallowing his entire length had
been. He was so big, so strong. I was weak and small - yet I was in
control.

He leapt toward me, rolled me over onto my stomach. "Wait," I
whispered. "I want this to be good. The best you've ever had, Ron. I want
to make my asshole slick and wet for you. I want to lube myself with my
cum. When you fuck me, it'll be like fucking myself."

I had him hypnotized. I relished having my ass raised for him, peeling
away my retainer, exposing my purpled, lust heavy cock and balls. I knew
something he didn't. He was as gay as I was. He wanted me more than he
ever wanted Ellen. I could have made him suck me, as I had him - but a sly
part of me knew that if I did, I'd lose control of him. He'd be too
sickened by what he'd done to ever be nice to me again. He needed to
believe he was the neighborhood's straight, macho, musclebound hunk. So, I
gripped myself, tickled myself with my long painted nails and teased him
yet more. I bent my rod back and imagined it was sliding up my ass. It
only took a few moments. I gasped, with my inflamed cheek pressed into the
carpet, while I pumped sticky

streams toward my back door and rubbed my sperm into my tender flesh,
dipping my fingers into my loosened asshole, pushing as much cum as I could
inside myself.

My voice was hollow with need. "Do it, Ron. Fuck me. Do it now."

I took him much easier than I had the first time. There was no pain or
chain to distract me. Like my mouth, my ass now seemed designed for cock.
I revelled in the spoils of my seduction, the depth of his hammering
thrusts. I had more power as a woman than I'd ever had as a man. My body
had become a real tool for pleasure. Cindy had given me my retainer in
return for sexual favors and told me how fantastic I was. The man I'd
sucked at the bar had paid me with a drink and cigarettes in return for the
blowjob of his life. I'd wrapped Ron around my painted pinky. I was
beginning to think I might be able to manipulate Ellen, if I was careful.

Ron's pummelling was taking its toll on me. My cock had rehardened.
When I angled my hips just right, it felt like he was fucking the inside of
my overgrown clit. Sharp electric bolts tore through me, and all thoughts
were buried beneath the cascade of sensation. When he howled and filled my
guts with his cream, I jerked and spewed in sympathy. He collapsed atop
me, his mass pinning me to the carpet. Being held and having my neck
kissed between his ragged breaths was

almost as rewarding as being fucked.

"You are one fine lay, cunt," he sighed into my ear. "We'll have to do
this again."

I carefully squeezed my buttocks together, caressing his still buried
dick. "Any time, darling. But right now, I'd better get up and get back
to my housework or Ellen's going to be really pissed."

"Speaking of the queen cunt, what's she up to?"

"She didn't say," I lied. I was protecting her. Ron was obviously
unaware he wasn't her only source of cock. He may or may not have been the
one to awaken in her a taste for tight dresses and heavy makeup, but I was
ninety-nine percent certain that today wasn't her first solo foray into the
world of bar sex. The only reason she hadn't gotten laid the night before
was because she needed to watch me get it so badly.

"Maybe it'd be a good idea not to mention that I dropped by," he said as
he raised his hips, freeing his limp meat with a soft sound that echoed
inside me.

I felt empty. My ass clutched around nothingness. Well, not quite. I
felt his cum oozing from my still opened hole. "Whatever you say, Ron."
Another rush made me shiver. It was almost time to wrap myself in the red
outfit, paint my face as nastily as I knew how, climb in a cab and go to a
hotel bar. I felt hot all over, and eager for Ron to leave.

Luckily, he was ready to go, too. A thought struck me as he rolled me
over for a farewell kiss to my smeared mouth. "Could you do me a little
favor before you go?" I asked him between tastes of his mouth.

"Sure."

"Help me change shoes. I still can't reach my ankles very well when I'm
in my corset." I smiled inwardly. Would Ellen wonder how I'd managed this
trick? "And, while you're here, maybe you could tighten my laces a little.
They seem to have worked loose somehow," I giggled.

I didn't complain that he overdid the tightening a little, reducing my
waist to closer to twenty inches, swelling what little tits I had even
more. After he strapped the towering red heels to my slim ankles, I reached
up and kissed him goodbye, feeling his prick already stirring against my
tiny belly. The fact that I could do that to a man who'd just cum inside
me a few minutes before made me feel very good. I was a foxy little slut.
Everybody who saw me would want me, and I wanted

to be desired, to be lusted after.

So, the instant I locked the door behind my lover, I cleaned up the cum
staining the carpet, but decided to take a risk and forget about my other
tasks, despite the consequences. I had much more important things to take
care of.

10. Chapter - Changes

My heart was hammering wildly by the time the taxi pulled into the
drive. I'd asked the dispatcher to make sure the driver didn't honk, but
apparently he hadn't gotten the word, because he did anyway, long and loud.
The entire neighborhood was alerted, no doubt peeking out their windows to
see what was going on. Horrified, I debated what to do. The cabbie again
leaned on the horn. Waiting was only going to make it worse. I bolted
from the front door, praying I wouldn't be recognized for what I was.

My prayer was ignored. Nosy Jerome, across the street, was plainly
visible, again drop-jawed. First he'd witnessed Ellen's departure, clad in
her skintight black minidress and wearing ten pounds of makeup. Now, some
strange woman - me, her lighter twin - in just as few clothes

and just as much makeup. The proverbial cat was probably out of the
bag.

I was mildly surprised by how little I cared. Unless relocation was in
Ellen's plans, the neighbors would no doubt see much more of me in the
future. I was absolutely determined that my two week vacation would
stretch out to encompass the rest of my life. I settled into the seat

and crossed my legs.

The driver was watching me in the mirror. I favored him with a bright
smile. He apparently wasn't used to picking up women who looked like
streetwalkers in such a respectable part of the city. I knew exactly what
my clinging, flame red dress, shimmering platinum blonde mane, and

gaudy makeup made me look like.

Being outside the house without Ellen was almost s much fun as fucking
without her at my side. I felt free to do whatever I wanted. I teased the
driver to distraction with my legs and lips, pretending I was ignorant of
what I was doing to him. But, when I leaned forward to ask him for a
cigarette, I saw the tent his erection was making in his pants. I toyed
with the idea of sucking him off rather than paying ******** my fare, but I
didn't find him all that attractive, and I wasn't very horny. Besides, I
was already nearly late and didn't want to risk Ellen's wrath.

As it turned out, it wouldn't have mattered a whole lot. I was slowed
by fear the moment I stepped from the cab. This was a very busy place.
Travelers were leaving and arriving as if this hotel was the airport
itself. My newly discovered confidence was shaken by the hustle and

bustle. I tapped into the bar, feeling scrutinized by thousands of
eyes. It was packed, of course. I scanned the tables and barstools
nervously and found no sign of Ellen. No tables were vacant, although by
the looks I was getting, I could have joined any number of solo males. I
opted for the view a seat at the bar would give me.

I stood out radically in the somberly dressed mob. The dim light didn't
seem to dull my screaming red dress, and I felt like my long silver-blonde
tresses reflected every bit of available light. For the first time since
Ellen had left, I missed her. Had she been there at my side, I'd have
revelled in the attention that saturated me. Instead, I felt vulnerable,
exposed - and scared.

I spent the last of my twenty dollars on a glass of wine. I wouldn't
have had to, of course. There was very little I'd have ever had to buy for
myself, dressed like that in a hotel bar. While that notion thrilled me
more than a little, it did nothing to banish my uneasiness. Where was
Ellen?

I rebuffed three thinly veiled offers of "a drink or something," and my
rejections earned me a little space. Apparently, I wasn't the readily
available bar girl I appeared, they must have reasoned. My self-confidence
began to return. But the fourth voice in my ear startled me when the man
it belonged to called me by name.

"You must be Sheila," came the gutturally accented baritone.

I stared for a long, uncomfortable moment. He was tall and thin, with a
mop of unkempt blondish hair. He slouched and his tie was crooked, making
his suit look too expensive for him.

If I'd been able to maintain the mood Ron left me in, feeling as brazen
as my outfit, I'd have smiled provocatively and come back with something
witty. Instead, I blurted, "Where's Ellen?" acting as

insecure as I felt.

His smile was mysterious. At least I was able to identify his accent as
Germanic. "I am Hans. Ellen is upstairs in a meeting and has asked you to
join us." He performed one of those silly little stiff continental
half-bows and offered me his arm.

Upstairs meant a hotel room. My throat tightened and my clit gave a
little lurch. I stood, nervously smoothed my skirt, and tried to take his
elbow like I'd been doing it all my life. It was a curiously pleasing
sensation to be e*****ed so formally back through the bar and lobby toward
the elevators. My mind was spinning. Meeting? What exactly did that
mean? It was an odd term, applied to Ellen the way she'd acted when she
left me that afternoon. The only business she'd

acted capable of transacting was on her back with her legs flung wide.

I was staggered. Literally. Hans gave me a concerned look as he pushed
the call button. I feigned a reassuring smile. Was that it? Was Ellen
selling her cunt? The conversation in the bar in the mall replayed itself.
The one about her cigarettes. What if, she'd said, she'd been dressing and
making herself up like that and "going out" for six months - about the time
she and Ron had hatched their plot. I'd assumed then that she'd been
trying to hurt me. While I'd sucked Ron's

dick, I'd imagined that there'd been some truth to her hypothetical
statement, that he'd uncovered in her a desire to look and act like a
tramp. But I hadn't imagined she'd actually whore herself. Surely, I'd
have known. Ruefully, I admitted that I hadn't known anything about my
wife until a week ago.

The dinging arrival of the elevator jolted me from my reverie. In the
close confines of the metal box, my e***** smelled of liquor and tobacco. A
quick craving for a cigarette grabbed me.

Speaking took effort. "Excuse me, Hans. May I have a cigarette?"

They were imported. He made no comment about the no smoking sign as he
lit it for me. The lighter was an ornate gold thing that matched the case
in which he kept his tobacco. It was harsh and oddly satisfying. My
lipstick was almost invisible against the dark brown paper.

I kept my voice going. "Uh, what kind of 'meeting' is this?"

He nodded, frowning slightly, as if confirming something. "As I
thought, she hasn't discussed this with you. Your friend has been in
contact with myself and several of my colleagues for a number of months."
His voice registered deep disapproval.

Ellen had introduced herself as my friend? To discuss what? Instead of
asking those questions, I quickly reassured him. "She and I are very
close. I'm sure she meant this as a surprise."

His expression softened. "In that case, perhaps I have said too much?"

I squeezed his bicep, gave him a soft smile. "It'll be our secret."

His thin lips curved upwards and his eyes more or less politely measured
by body. "As you wish. I must say, you seem quite well adjusted."

I felt myself pale. He knew about the secret between my legs. I was
confused. Should I feel betrayed or flattered? I took smoke very
carefully to cover my embarrassment. The elevator door opened at the top
floor. Again I accepted his arm. The far wall of the hall was mirrored. I
saw an extremely sexy little blonde woman, clad in fuck-me red, on the arm
of a tall thin man. She was gorgeous, in a brazen way, but her visible
discomfort was spoiling her desirability.
Angry at myself, I hugged my e*****'s arm more tightly, deliberately
pressed my thigh to his as we walked down the hall. He squeezed my arm and
smiled. He knew, but he didn't mind being close to me. Was he the
"special friend" I was to meet? Was I being nice enough to him? And,

above all, was he going to fuck me? If Ellen was whoring herself, was
she going to sell my holes to this man and his "colleagues?" My belly
hollowed, not entirely with fear.

I was anticipating a sordid scene as Hans turned to face a door and
swung it open. My throat was tight. Would the room be filled with men?
Maybe I'd see Ellen on her hands and knees, sucking one cock while being
fucked by another, or ...

What I was presented with was even more shocking. Ellen sat at the head
of a table with three men. They were examining papers, not her pussy. Her
makeup and hair weren't mussed. I felt a shameful stab of disappointment.
She glanced up from what she was reading, and the room fell silent as all
eyes focused on me.

They weren't the kind of looks I was growing accustomed to. They were
cold, clinical, examining me more like a side of beef than a target of
lust. I felt like a fool. Ellen had set me up, led me to believe that I
was coming here to get laid - and I'd eagerly leapt at the chance to

open my orifices to whoever wanted them.

A blast of raw sanity ripped through me. I saw myself as I was, for the
first time in days. I wasn't a woman. I was a married male with a dark,
newly revealed, twisted taste for cock. I was a sham, a parody, a pathetic
joke. My sickness had filled me. I'd given myself over to it. I'd
embraced my depravity, wanting to believe I'd had no choice. I'd lied to
myself all the way along. If I'd really wanted to, I could have resisted
Ellen's dominance and torture. I'd had more

opportunities than I could count to stubbornly say no, to insist that
this charade end. I hadn't, purely because I'd craved every last moment of
what had happened to me. I'd needed the excuses her coercion provided.

All this in one of those wordless insights that take up such a paltry
amount of clock time, yet change everything. Ellen was just beginning to
part her lips and introduce me. Her associates, or whatever they were, had
yet to complete their scan of me. In that mere instant, I'd shed my slutty
horniness and was wallowing in full-blown despair.

A strange numbness kept the scene at a distance. It was like I was
floating somewhere near the ceiling, emotionlessly observing what was going
on below as if it was happening to someone else. I mechanically took the
chair Hans held for me. I saw my legs cross, felt the casual smile on my
lips. Shouldn't I be crying, I remember wondering, almost idly? I sensed
that this was probably one of the most critical moments of my life and was
astonished by the feeling of peace enveloping me.

They were all European physicians specializing in various aspects of
gender re-assignment. Ellen had sought them out months before. They were
there to assess me. If I passed their examinations, I was to become a
woman.

In my altered state of consciousness, I felt no qualms, no hesitation. I
basked in the glow of Ellen's proud smile. Yes, I quietly insisted, this
is what I wanted, with all my heart. No, there was no chance I'd regret
such a momentous decision. I was committed. No, I didn't need

the traditional year of living in female guise to be sure. I was ready,
right then.

The interview took three gruelling hours. Two of the doctors had mild
reservations, but I swayed the other two, Hans and a younger Frenchman man
named Jordan. I didn't, of course, leap on an airplane and fly to Denmark
to have my cock made into a cunt, although nothing would have made me
happier. There were arrangements to be made - and finances to be arranged.
It was agreed, though, that I'd receive breast implants in the near future.

Ellen invited them to stay for drinks. Jordan and Hans accepted, and
Ellen called room service while I stepped into the suite's bedroom to
freshen up. As I touched up my face, I began to exit the trance-like state
I'd been wrapped in, and the reality of my choice took hold. It wasn't
fear that emerged, but excitement. A shiver rippled through me as I stared
at the pale flesh of my cleavage and the twin swells below. In ten days,
my corset would embrace living flesh, not molded latex. I could flaunt
them with even deeper necklines. Men could suck them, pinch them, slide
their pricks between them.

My sharp, curved nails worked my false nipples and my real ones
stiffened in sympathy. The thrill settled in, became heat. When the door
opened and Ellen slid through, I was still standing before the mirror,
seeing myself as I was to become. In my mind, I was already a woman, not a
cross-dressed fag slut.

She walked up behind me, encircled my waist with her arms, and hugged
me. I settled against her with a sigh, nestled my head in the cup of her
shoulder, feeling the softness of her tit against my neck.

"You liked my little surprise?" she whispered.

I nodded, nuzzling her tit.

"Would you like to thank Jordan and Hans for their kindness?"

My belly hollowed. "Do you think they'd like that?"

"That's why they stayed, darling."

"To fuck me?"

"To fuck both of us."

She was right. For the first time, I experienced the delirious pleasure
of giving a blow job while having my ass filled, and watching Ellen receive
identical treatment. The only thing about the following hours I didn't
enjoy was being stripped of my corset, having my distinctly masculine body
made love to by Jordan. I hid behind my long silver hair, stared at my
lovely hands while he fucked my ass, cursing hoarsely in French.

They left us around three a.m. I fell asleep in the hotel room bed,
curled in Ellen's arms, after lapping every bit of cum I could reach from
her pussy and ass and mouth. I was more content than I knew I could be.
Three man had enjoyed my body that day. All of them had known everything
there was to know about me, and lusted after me anyway. As I sank into
sleep, I dimly realized that for the first time I was completely unashamed
of what I was.

I awoke disoriented. It took a few seconds to realize where I was. The
bed beside me was empty, but the faint sound of the shower emanating from
the bathroom told me where Ellen was. I stretched, relishing the faint
soreness of my ass. I'd been penetrated there four times, had wildly
humped the men riding me, and felt almost no distracting discomfort. I
fingered myself. My hole was loose and moist. I was ready for more. I
rolled to my feet and padded in to join Ellen in the shower. There wasn't
a cock in the room, so I settled for a pussy, backing my companion into a
corner of the stall, eating her until her knees went weak and she tried to
pull my entire

head into her slit.

I felt so beautiful as I dressed and made myself up that I was almost in
tears. I wanted everyone to know. I wanted to be stared at, desired,
seduced. Ellen's mood was much more reserved, but I barely noticed. I
felt free, in an all new way. I was ecstatically aware, as we made our way
back to the car, of the wide sway of my ass and the bounce of my tits. I
was totally at ease with the way my every move was watched, and easily met
the eyes of those staring at me.

I didn't catch Ellen's anger until we were well on our way home, and
even then she had to slap me with it.

"You're nothing but a fucking tramp," she spat with venom after I'd
favored another driver with a wide red smile.

I was shocked by the depth of her rage. I studied the floorboard. "I'm
sorry. I just feel -"

"Nothing to be sorry about, bitch. You are what you are. Actually, I'm
pleased. It'll make what we have to do a lot easier if I don't have to
force you." She didn't sound pleased.

I drew on my cigarette, nervously rubbed at the lipstick on the filter.
"What do we have to do?" I asked very quietly.

Her laugh was a harsh bark. "We have to make a lot of money for your
surgery."

I stared blankly at her for a moment, then looked out the window. I
didn't want her to see my smile. There weren't many ways to raise the
three thousand dollars we needed in ten days. I was going to be a very
busy girl for a while. The only question in my mind was if she was going
to whore herself on bar stools beside me. I hoped so. I really liked
sharing with her.

End

-

Nostrumo

e-mail: nostrumo@nienor.in-berlin.













Subject: REPOST: ASV01 Sibling Rivalry

From: an293603@anon.penet.fi

Date: 1996/08/15

Now that the Communications Decency Act (CDA) is gone, and the world is
safe

for erotic literature, I present Alicia's Summer Vacation.

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction for adults only. It is the story
of a young boy's humiliation at the hands of his sister (and mostly
everyone else in the story). It involves bondage, nonconsensual sex acts,
forced feminization, v******e, and so much more. If these topics don't
turn you on, please do not read any further. It is not my intention to
offend anyone; this story is presented solely for your entertainment. It
may arouse you, and it may amuse you. I hope it never bores you. Enjoy!





ALICIA'S SUMMER VACATION

by Diabolical

CHAPTER 1: SIBLING RIVALRY

Kathy twisted my arm behind me. "I've taken all the crap I'm going to
from you!" she shouted.

"Let me go," I yelled.

But she wrenched my arm again, and forced me to my knees as the pain
shot through my shoulder. She was two years older than me, four inches
taller, and a lot meaner. I never had a chance against her.

"You're going to apologize, little brother, or I'll give you the beating
of your life!" As I knelt in front of her, she grabbed a fistful of my
shoulder-length hair, twisted it around, and jerked my head back. "Maybe I
should cut off all this pretty hair of yours."

"All right, you win," I cried, "I'm sorry. Just leave my hair alone!"

She shoved me face down on the living room carpet and stood over me. I
massaged my aching shoulder, and as I turned to look up at her, she
snarled, "Next time you won't get off this easy."

"I didn't-" I started to say, and she kicked me in the stomach. The
dull pain in my gut made my eyes water. "Oooh," I gasped and lay doubled
over on the floor.

"What the hell is going on here?" I heard our older brother yell.

"Ron, Al's been acting like a jerk again. I don't know what to do with
him."

"It figures," Ron said. "It's always the same problem. But I've got a
real easy solution this time. Al, from now on, you do whatever Kathy tells
you. Understand me?"

By now, I was up on my knees, still holding my stomach. "All I said was
she was having a bad hair day! And she can't tell me what to do, and
neither can you," I gasped. "You're only my brother."

"I'm also your legal guardian, since Mom and Dad passed away. If you
don't listen to me, maybe I'll have my girlfriend come over and teach you
some manners." He grabbed my collar and pulled me up on my tiptoes. "Did I
make myself clear?"

"Yeah," I grumbled, and he let me go. The last thing I needed was to
see that vulture Sandra; she gave me the creeps. And she wore these
leather outfits that make her look even creepier. By now I had gotten my
wind back. "I'm going up to my room," I said to him, ignoring Kathy.

Up in my room, I lay on the bed holding my tender stomach. Life wasn't
fair. Ron and Kathy took after Dad; Ron was big and barrel-chested, and
even Kathy was much stronger than me. I took after Mom's side of the
family. I was slight of build, and my face had soft features. Worst of
all, my brother and sister were always against me.

Everyone always liked Kathy because she was pretty; when she wore makeup
she could look like an adult. I was almost 13, and Ron was only 22, but
now I had to take orders from him. This never would have happened if Mom
and Dad hadn't died in that plane crash, right after we moved to Los
Angeles. All my friends were back in Santa Cruz, and now my sister was
pushing me around again.

Our parents had left us plenty of money, and our lawyer said the new
house was all paid for, but Ron would have to be in charge of the Peterson
household, that is, Kathy and me. Summer had just started, I didn't have
any friends here, and I was fighting with my sister already. While I
wallowed in self-pity my sister paid me a visit, carrying a shopping bag.

"Get up," she ordered me.

"Go away," I answered. The next thing I knew, she dragged me to my feet
and twisted my arm behind me again. She pulled my shirt up over my face,
and then ripped it off.

"What do you think you're doing?" I shouted.

"You're supposed to do what I tell you," she said, twisting my head
around so I was nose to nose with her. "I guess you haven't learned that
yet. But you will."

She threw me face down on the carpet, sat on me, and reached into her
shopping bag.

"Kathy, get off me! I don't want to play like this," I whined.

"We aren't playing any more, little brother. I got this just for you,"
she said, peeling off a strip of duct tape.

"What are you doing?" I shouted. This was getting serious.

She pulled my wrists together behind me, and I felt her slap the tape
against my right wrist.

"Kathy, stop it!" I pleaded, with panic in my voice. I struggled to
free myself, but she held me securely as she wrapped layer after layer of
tape around my wrists. "This isn't funny any more!"

"It won't be funny for you, but I'm going to enjoy it," she said. She
pulled me to my feet, and spun me around to face her.

"You let me go right now!" I demanded.

She slapped me across the face so hard that my cheek stung, and tears
came to my eyes. She grabbed the hair on the back of my head, and pulled
my face to within inches of hers. As I fought back the tears, she looked
me in the eye, and snarled, "Are you telling me what to do, little
brother?"

"N-n-no," I stammered. "Please let me go."

"First I'm going to take your clothes off, and then I'm going to give
you a beating. Then if you're good I'll let you go. Is that all right
with you?"

"Kathy, please-"

She slapped the other cheek, this time with the back of her hand. My
head snapped back, and I lost my balance, falling against the side of the
bed. As I lay slumped there, my ears were still ringing, and I felt tears
trickling down my cheeks. Finally my head cleared, and I looked up to see
my sister standing over me.

She kicked me in the side and sneered at me. "Are you ready for your
beating now?"

I was too scared to say anything, so I just looked down and nodded my
head.

She kicked me again, only harder. "I can't hear you," she said. "Get
on your knees and beg me to give you a proper beating!"

I struggled for balance with my hands bound, and lurched forward to my
knees. This was so humiliating; now I had to beg my sister to beat me.
But as I crawled forward, the door swung ajar, and I saw my brother.

"Kathy, you've done enough to him for today. Leave him alone now."

"But Ron, you know he deserves it!" she pleaded.

But Ron just pointed to the door, and Kathy stomped out.

"Thanks, Ron," I gasped. "Please untie me. It hurts where she kicked
me."

He picked me up, and laid me on the bed. "Just rest like this now, so
you won't get in any more trouble. I'll come back and untie you tonight."

I started to protest, but he walked out anyway. And so I had to spend
the whole evening tied up on my bed.

The next day I was out in front of the house when another boy walked
into our yard. "Is Kathy home?" he asked.

"Who wants to know?" I asked.

He came up to me, and while he looked me over, I sized him up. He was
bigger than me, muscular, and probably a couple of years older. Suddenly,
he grabbed me by the collar of my knit shirt, and nearly lifted me off the
ground. "I'm her new boyfriend. She told me she had a bratty little
brother with long hair like a girl. Is that you?"

I didn't agree entirely with the description, but this wasn't the time
to take issue with him. I nodded my head. "I'm...I'm her brother," I
stammered.

He pulled me close to him. "Then why don't you be a good **********,
and tell your big sister I'm here?" He shoved me away, sending me sprawling
onto the grass.

But before I could get up, Kathy had come outside. She wore a white
halter top that barely covered her breasts, and a pair of blue jeans that
must have been painted on her. Her long brown hair was pulled straight
back and then hung down over her shoulders. She had just seen this punk
push me around. But as I watched, they embraced, and she gave him a French
kiss. "I see you've met my brother," she said.

"Yeah," he said. "Does he always act like a jerk?"

"Always," she said, giving me a dirty look. "Like I said, you have to
smack him around just to get his attention."

"Never mind him," he said. "You look gorgeous today, so let's get out
of here."

It figured she was on his side. I backed away, and they left together.
So I wandered out to the street and down the block. Then I saw a young
girl sitting out in front of the house next door. She had dark brown hair
like me, but even longer, and cut in straight bangs across her forehead.
Best of all, a small pair of breasts lifted her red sweater. Maybe living
here wouldn't

be so bad after all. I introduced myself, and found out her name was
Arcadia. She was a year older than me.

"So we're neighbors now," she said. "I've already met your sister. But
she didn't mention that she had a little brother."

In a way that was good. At least Kathy hadn't poisoned her against me.
"We don't hang around much together. She's always had her own friends."

She smiled at me and said, "That's all right. I'm sure we'll all be
friends."

That evening, Kathy brought her thug-boyfriend home with her, and she
dragged me down to the basement playroom to give me a proper introduction
to him. His name was Craig, and when he wasn't feeling up my sister, his
idea of a good time was to try out wrestling moves on me. He shoved me
around, grabbed me, and slammed me down on the tile floor time after time.

"I've had enough of this," I said, getting to my feet for the um*****th
time.

"You're not going anywhere, sweetie," Kathy said. "Ron said you had to
do whatever I told you. And I'm telling you to get back down on the
floor."

"He didn't mean you could have this goon beat me up!" I yelled.

In a second, Craig was right in my face. "Who are you calling a goon,
pretty boy?" he said, shoving my chest.

I stumbled backward and looked to my sister for help. "Kathy, make him
leave me alone!"

"Oh, but I thought boys liked roughhousing like this," she said sweetly.

Craig threw me face down on the floor, twisted my arm behind my back,
and mashed my nose against the tiles. "Maybe he isn't a real boy," he
said.

"Get off me!" I shouted. "Kathy, get him out of here!"

"Ron said I could make you do whatever I want, and I think it's time we
took advantage of it." She held up a roll of duct tape, and pulled an
arm's-length of it out. "Craig, put his wrists together behind his back."

"Kathy, stop! This isn't fair!" I pleaded, as Craig pulled my arms
together.

Kathy wrapped the tape around my wrists several times, and Craig let me
go. He pulled me up to my knees and left me kneeling in front of them. I
strained and shook so hard that my hair got in my eyes. But the tape held
fast. I could barely see the two of them exchange glances and grin.

"Still think you can get out of that, little sissy?" Kathy asked.

"If you don't let me go, I'll scream!"

"I think he needs to be gagged," Craig said.

I leaned back from them. "You better not put that tape over my mouth,"
I warned.

"Oh, we won't use that to gag you," she said, brushing my hair over my
eyes so I could hardly see anything.

A moment later Craig sat next to me, and I could finally see that he had
unzipped his pants, and his cock was sticking straight out at me. "We're
going to gag you with this!" he said.

I recoiled in horror, tears filling my eyes. This couldn't happen to
me, not in my own house. "No, please," I begged.

My sister took a handful of hair, and guided my head toward Craig's
bright red cock. "Since you don't like to fight like a boy, maybe you're
interested in more girlish activities. Like sucking cock."

"Yeah," Craig snarled, "you're gonna suck my cock until I come all over
your face!"

Subject: REPOST: ASV02 The family That Flays Together Stays Together

From: an293603@anon.penet.fi

Date: 1996/08/15

CHAPTER 2: THE family THAT FLAYS TOGETHER STAYS TOGETHER

"No!" I shouted. "I won't suck his cock. I'll do anything but that!"

Kathy pulled my head back, and asked, "Anything?"

I nodded my head vigorously. "Anything but that!"

"Will you try on my dresses and pose for some pictures?"

"But...but you never want me near your stuff. Why do you want me to
wear your clothes?"

"Because I think you'd look adorable in a dress. Now will you do it or
not?" Then she turned my head back to face Craig's cock.

"I'll do it!" I blurted out.

"Then as a sign of good faith, kiss it." She shoved me forward so my
face was flush against his erect cock. At least kissing it wouldn't be as
bad as putting it in my mouth. I closed my eyes, kissed it, and leaned
away.

"Hey, I was looking forward to a blow job! Is that all I get?" Craig
asked Kathy.

"For now," she said, and turned to face me, "Unless the little sissy
misbehaves when I take the pictures."

Kathy ordered me to kneel until they returned, and they left together.
Alone, I was on my knees with my hands bound and had to wait for my sister
and her boyfriend to humiliate me. What had I ever done to deserve this?
All I could do was feel sorry for myself until they came back with a half
dozen dresses.

Kathy unwrapped my wrists and told me, "Strip! You've got sixty
seconds. If I see you wearing anything besides your birthday suit, you'll
be gagging on male meat."

I practically ripped my clothes off, and in forty-five seconds I stood
before them naked, my hands covering my penis.

"Don't be modest, sweetie," Kathy said, raising her camera. "Put your
hands up over your head now!"

I frowned and looked down at my member. Reluctantly I put my hands up,
and when I looked back at Kathy, I saw the flashbulb go off.

"Now put your hand on your hip like a good little fag," she said. "And
then your other hand up on your shoulder to toss your hair. And pout for
me. Come on, let's see those lips. I want to see a nice pouty look on
your face."

She finally got the sexy look she wanted, and the flashbulb went off
again.

"Now cross your ankles, and point your feet outward like a pretty little
ballerina," she commanded me. And when I did, she took a couple more
photos of me.

"Are we having fun yet, little brother?"

I shook my head. "Kathy, can I put some clothes on now?" I begged.

"Sure you can, sweetie," she cooed. "So that's why you look so unhappy.
You don't like being naked, do you?"

I shook my head again, fighting back the tears, and Craig kept
snickering at me.

"I've got just the thing for you," she said, holding up a training bra.

"No...I didn't mean that-"

"Oh, don't worry, I'll help you put it on," she said, spinning me
around. A moment later she had me in the bra, and ordered me, "Now fondle
your new breasts!"

I had no choice, and fondled myself as the flashbulb went off again.

"Let's get the ****** into the rest of his clothes," Craig said. "He'll
look cute in that little red number of yours."

The next thing I knew, I was climbing into a pair of stockings and a
garter belt, and my sister zipped me into a red tafetta dress. My legs
were encased in nylon, and the dress rustled whenever I moved.

"Now lift up your dress and pretend to adjust your garter," she said.
And the camera flash went off again.

"Good, now cross your wrists at your waist, and put your hands together
palm to palm like a good little sissy," she ordered me.

As I did do, she snapped another picture. And the ordeal went on. For
the next half hour, she must have taken twenty Polaroids of me, some naked,
but most in her outfits. She kept telling me to smile for the camera, and
Craig kept taunting me. Most ominous of all, his cock was about to burst
his pants the whole time.

Finally she stripped me again, and left me sitting me on the floor. "I
can hardly wait to show these to Ron! And wait until Sandra gets to see
them."

"Who's Sandra?" Craig asked.

"She's my big brother's girlfriend. She is one hot blonde, always
wearing these leather and rubber outfits. I'm sure she'll have some good
ideas about dressing up the little sissy."

Just what I needed. My brother's bitchy girlfriend getting her hands on
me. This was going too far. "I'm not a sissy!" I shouted at her.

"Oh, no? Well if you're such a stud, I'd like to see you jerk off right
now."

My mouth dropped open. I couldn't believe it. "Here? Right now? In
front of both of you?"

"And on camera, sweetie. I've got a few pictures left. Or would you
rather listen to that tafetta dress rustling as we walk around the block a
couple of times?"

I hesitated for a moment. I couldn't go out in that red dress. Then
she added, "And after we show you off around the neighborhood, then you can
get Craig off!"

"Now that's more like it," the big oaf said, leering at me.

There was no way out. I grabbed my cock and started stroking it. I was
so embarrassed I couldn't even look at them as I got it hard, and finally
some cum spurted out onto the floor as the camera flash went off.

"Can I go now?" I mumbled as I looked down. "Are you through with me?"

"Almost," she said. "But you've made a mess in here. My dear little
brother, I'd really appreciate it if you cleaned the floor."

"All right," I said, starting to get up.

But she pushed me back down to my knees. "No, stay down there," she
said, smiling at me. "Use your tongue."

I stared in horror at the line of white goo on the carpet.

"Do you want some fresh cum instead?" Craig snarled at me.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I bent forward to lick it up.

"Look, he's going to cry," Craig taunted me. "The little ****** is
going to cry."

I couldn't help but cry. As I lapped up the salty goo, Kathy took
another picture, and then one more of me on my knees with tears streaming
down my face.

"Now put on my white lace dress, and go to your room for the rest of the
day," she ordered me. She waved the last photo in my face. "You're going
to be a good little sissy from now on, unless you want me to start showing
everyone our new family album."

I put on the dress and hurried up to my room, my face in my hands. Now
my sister could blackmail me with those pictures.

* * * * *

The next day, Arcadia came over to see Kathy, but I met her in the
backyard. I hoped if I

intercepted her first, I could keep Kathy from telling her what happened
yesterday.

"Would you like to go to the park with me?" I asked. "We can get some
ice cream."

"Well, I came over to see Kathy. She had a fight with Craig over the
phone this morning,

and I wanted to talk with her. I guess it can wait."

That was interesting. Kathy had a fight with Craig? Maybe if they were
fighting with

each other, they'd leave me alone. We turned to go, but then I saw
Craig open our gate.

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

"I came to see your big sister, brat," he said, walking up the driveway
toward me.

"I doubt she wants to see you, though," I said, hoping I'd find out
what's going on.

"Maybe you're right," he said. "Arcadia, would you like to go out with
me?"

"We were just on our way out," I said.

"I asked the girl, not you," he snapped.

"Oh, I don't know..." she said.

"Arcadia, tell him to get lost. He broke up with my sister, and now he
just wants to use

you."

"Shut up, you little bastard!" he shouted, and grabbed me by the shirt.

"I know!" Arcadia said, smiling. "Why don't you boys settle this among
yourselves?

Meanwhile I'll go talk to Kathy."

She started off, and Craig shoved me backwards, sending me stumbling
against the

house.

"Hurry back!" he shouted to her. "This won't take long!"

I got up and tried to run, but he tackled me, and threw me down in the
grass. He sat on

my chest, making me gasp for air.

"Let's make Arcadia's decision a real easy one," he said, and punched me
in the face. I

screamed, but he had me pinned to the ground, and hit me on the side of
the face over and over.

I was dazed and helpless when he pulled me to my feet, and threw me face
first against the

concrete garage.

I don't even remember hitting the ground. I woke up out on the grass in
late afternoon

with a headache, a split lip, and a lump on my forehead. I staggered
inside to find Kathy

showing Ron the pictures of me in her dresses (or not in them, in some
cases.)

"I want him to dress up like a girl from now on," she said. "Look at
the T-shirt and jeans

he's wearing. We're new in this neighborhood, and no one here knows
he's supposed to be a

boy."

"You can't do that to me," I shouted, and my head hurt even more.

"I don't think so," Ron said. "We'd have to buy a whole new wardrobe
for him."

I breathed a sigh of relief. At least my big brother wasn't going to
let her make me into a

girl.

"No we won't," Kathy said. "He can wear my stuff. I've got a lot of
clothes I've just about

outgrown, and they'll fit him perfect now."

That's my sister. She can be so accommodating when she wants to.

"Besides, Mom bought me some really frilly dresses that I never wore.
They're just too

feminine-looking for me. But I think the sissy will look good in them."

"All right, " Ron said. "We'll try it for a little while. But start
with just the underwear, so

he can get used to it."

"Ron, no!" I screamed. "I won't do it!"

"You'll do what we tell you to," he shouted, and then he grabbed me by
the arm, and

pulled me to him. "Kathy, get me the roll of duct tape in the drawer."

Don't we ever run out of duct tape? I struggled, but he twisted my arm
behind me, and

threw me on the kitchen floor. He held me face down on the floor as
Kathy taped my wrists

together.

"Sandra's coming over any minute, and I'm sure she'll be delighted to
get reacquainted

with you," he said.

Oh, no. Sandra always hated me. "Ron, please let me go," I whined.
"Craig already

beat me up today."

But he just tousled my hair, and it got in my eyes. "You can't get
along with anyone, can

you? Now be a good little sissy," he said, "and stay right there."

"Ron, will you please untie-" I started, but then Kathy jumped on my
back, knocking the

wind out of me.

"I can hardly wait till Sandra gets here," Kathy said.

Me neither, I thought, gasping for air.

Soon the doorbell rang, and a minute later Ron and Sandra were standing
over me, with

Kathy perched on my back.

"I'd get up," Kathy told them, "but I feel so comfortable here."

Sandra was a tall blonde whose large breasts my brother worshipped. But
like many

beautiful women, she was a bitch. She fixed me with a cold stare, and I
knew I was in trouble.

She was wearing a black leather outfit, with high-heeled boots, and she
carried an oversized

gym bag. Sandra flipped through those awful Polaroid photos, and her
expression didn't even

change. You'd think she saw pictures like that every day.

"It's time you learned some discipline," she said, taking a white corset
out of her bag.

"Kathy, strip the little sissy."

"All right!" she said, and started pulling my clothes off. Soon she had
me stripped from

the waist down, and said, "I can't get this shirt over his wrists."

Sandra handed her a knife and said, "Cut it off. He won't need those
boy clothes any

more, will he?"

Kathy grinned from ear to ear, but all I could see was the light
glinting off the knife blade

as I looked up at her. In moments, she had me on my back naked, with my
wrists taped behind

me.

"Now let's see how that corset looks on you," Sandra said.

Kathy stood me up, and Sandra laced the corset around me tighter and
tighter until I

thought it was going to smother me. In a few moments I stood clad in
panties, stockings, and a

training bra my sister generously donated.

Sandra stood over me, and lifted my chin. "Now, are you ready for your
spanking?" she

asked.

"No! You can't spank me!" I said, and backed away to the far wall of
the kitchen.

"Come on, sweetie," she said, beckoning to me, "What are you doing all
the way over

there?"

"Leave me alone," I begged. "Ron, don't let her hit me!"

Sandra took a leather paddle from her bag and snarled, "Come over here
now and get

your spanking. Unless you'd like a good beating."

But my feet were anchored to the floor, and my back to the wall. I
wasn't going to budge.

Sandra moved in on me, and all I could do was slide along the wall into
the corner. Then, half-naked and trapped in the corner with my hands bound
behind me, I could only stare

up at the leather-clad woman brandishing a paddle.

"Shame on you for making me chase after you," she said. "Now you're
going to learn a

lesson." She grabbed a handful of hair, and dragged me over to the
table. She sat down, and

threw me over her knee. "Pay attention, Kathy. I'm going to show you
how to discipline your

little brother."

"Let me go-" I screamed. "You can't-"

The paddle landed, stinging my bottom.

"Ow, stop it!" I shouted.

She hit me twice more, once on each cheek, and both were burning.

"You're hurting me," I whined.

"Oh, you're hurting me," Kathy taunted me. "Can I hit him now, Sandra?"

But Sandra rubbed my sore butt with her palm. "Does that feel better,
sweetie?"

"No!" I shouted. "Let me go!"

"Oh, you've got a lot more coming," she said, and I felt the smooth
leather of the paddle

gently sliding back and forth across my butt. She lifted the paddle,
and I felt cool air against my

bottom for a moment. Then I felt another stinging blow.

Tears came to my eyes as she hit me another dozen times. My poor butt
was on fire,

and no matter how much I squirmed, she just kept hitting me. I tried
not to cry, but finally I was

sobbing, warm tears rolling down my cheeks.

"Kathy, look at how nice and red his ass is," Sandra said
matter-of-factly. "That's what

you want to do. You can give him a good beating without leaving any
welts or scars. This way

you don't mark him up, but the little bastard won't want to sit down for
a couple of days. Would

you like to try it?"

Kathy grabbed the paddle from her, pulled my hair back from my face, and
looked me

straight in the eye. "You're going to get it now," she said, sneering
at me.

"No," I begged. "Please, I've had enough."

"Can we shut him up?" Kathy asked Sandra. "I don't want to listen to
his whining.

Ron handed Kathy the roll of duct tape.

"No, don't tape his mouth," Sandra said, "He needs a proper gag."

Oh, God forbid I should be improperly gagged when they beat me.
Helpless, I watched

as Sandra rummaged through her bag, and pulled out what looked like a
rubber cock with a strap

attached to it.

"This is a penis gag," she announced. "It'll keep the little darling
quiet, and get him used

to having a cock in his mouth." She pressed the tip of the gag against
my mouth.

I clenched my teeth and shook my head. A moment later my bottom got
stung. Then

another whack. And another. I bucked and squirmed, but Sandra held me
down. My sister was

swinging the paddle with both hands. I opened my mouth to scream and
Sandra shoved the

penis gag in. She strapped it around my head, and tied it in place.
"Now teach him to be more

cooperative," she told Kathy.

Kathy warmed to the task of warming my butt. She hit me over and over
as I sobbed into

the gag and kicked my legs. My whole body glistened with sweat, my butt
was on fire, and I

squealed in agony, waiting for the next blow to fall. Finally she
stopped.

"Whew, I'm tired," Kathy said, "I never knew beating him up could be so
much work."

"Kathy, you need to work on your stamina," Ron said. "I'll bet Sandra
could do a

lot better."

"Noooo," I moaned into my gag.

But Sandra didn't hit me. She spent the next two hours teaching the
others how to tie me

up. She explained the proper use of handcuffs, spreader bars, arm
binders, and all the other

bondage stuff she brought along.

Finally, Ron and Sandra left me with Kathy, and I spent the whole day
bound, gagged,

and helpless, while she took more pictures of me. Finally Kathy took
the gag out, made me

kneel, and held a bunch of g****s over my head.

"So how do you like having a cock in your mouth, little crybaby?" she
asked.

I didn't say anything, but just opened and closed my jaw to get the
feeling back in it.

"Hungry, sweetie? You haven't had a thing to eat all day."

My jaw ached from the gag, and I tried to reach the g****s, but I
couldn't reach them.

Finally I gave up. Maybe they were sour anyway.

But then Kathy threw them on the floor in front of me. "Eat up, sissy!
Now!"

I was so hungry I gobbled the g****s as fast as I could. Then she
blindfolded me, and

left me alone on the floor. All I could do was lie on the floor in the
dark with that damn corset

choking me.

I had lost all track of time, when my blindfold was pulled off. Kathy
threw a red sweater

and a pair of red jeans in my face.

"Sandra gave the name of a beauty salon in a shopping center a few
blocks from here.

You're going to have your hair done."

"Kathy, please let me go," I begged. "I don't want to have my hair
done. I've had a long

day. I don't even want to go out."

"I didn't ask you what you want. I've made the appointment, and I'm
taking you there

now. Is that clear?"

I just nodded my head. At least she'd untie me, and I could stretch my
muscles. Half an

hour later, we showed up at the salon, but the sign on the door said,
"Closed." I was saved!

"Too bad," I said, "they're closed."

But then a young blonde woman came to the door and opened it for us.
"I'm Jennifer.

You must be Kathy and the little sissy," she said. "Sandra told me to
expect you."

"But I thought you were closed," I said, pointing at the sign. "The
sign said closed."

"I work on special customers like you by appointment only," Jennifer
said. "That way you

can feel more comfortable when I make you look pretty."

I made a face. I was wearing girl's underwear, and now I had to have my
hair done like a

girl.

"That's very considerate of Jennifer, isn't it, sissy?" Kathy said, as
Jennifer led me inside.

"How should we do his hair?" Jennifer asked my sister. Apparently my
opinion didn't

matter.

"We could have you wear your hair in straight bangs, like Arcadia,"
Kathy suggested to me.

Before I could answer, Jennifer said, "Bangs can be cute, but they're
too masculine.

Lots of boys have bangs. We don't want anyone to confuse this little
sissy with a boy."

I winced. She thinks I'd look too masculine with bangs? Jennifer was
even worse than

my sister.

"Anything you say," Kathy said. "Just make him look beautiful."

"I know! We'll part his hair in the middle just like yours, Kathy, only
I'll put long soft curls

in it," Jennifer said.

And she dragged me off to shampoo my hair. I could hardly move in the
corset, and

Jennifer practically had to shove me into a reclining chair. I lay
there with me head in a sink as I

tried to arch my back to keep my aching butt off the chair.

Half an hour later, she had styled my hair, set it in rollers, and had
me sitting under a

hair dryer. I squirmed because my butt hurt so much, but that only made
it worse.

"Jennifer, my little brother isn't the first boy to have his hair styled
here, is he?"

"No, of course not. But most of the boys don't have their hair done in
curls like this."

"Are any of the other boys cute?" Kathy asked.

Just like my sister, I thought, trying to find boys at my expense.

"Some are really cute, but almost all of them are gay."

"Well, that doesn't help me any, but maybe this little sissy would like
to meet some of

them," Kathy said.

"What are you trying to-" I started.

"Sure, I can arrange that," Jennifer interrupted me. "Would you like to
meet a fag?"

I was shocked. Speechless. How could they even think that?

"I think that's a great idea," Kathy said. "Wouldn't you like to meet a
boy a little older

than you? Someone more experienced, who can teach you how to be a fag?"

"No! Kathy, don't make me do this!" I said, my eyes filling with tears.


"Someone who'll bend you over a chair and make you like it?" she said,
leering at me.

I bowed my head as tears rolled down my cheeks.

"Oh, don't cry, sweetie, I'll find you a real nice boy, I promise,"
Jennifer said. "I doubt

he'll be as sissified as you, but I'm sure lots of my customers would
like to meet you."

Kathy giggled. "And we can keep trying until we find the right one."

"No, please don't make me meet any boys," I sobbed.

"Tell you what, little sissy. As long as you're a perfect ************
girl at home, I won't

have Jennifer introduce you to any of her friends. But if you step out
of line just once, you're

going to be a party girl."

"I'll do anything you want around the house! I'll wear anything you
want, I promise!"

"If the little ****** changes his mind, just let me know," Jennifer
said. "He's a cutie, and I

know lots of boys who'd love to get their hands on him."

Subject: REPOST: ASV03 Bathing Beauty

From: an293603@anon.penet.fi

Date: 1996/08/15

ALICIA'S SUMMER VACATION

by Diabolical

CHAPTER 3: BATHING BEAUTY

The next day I slept until noon, handcuffed to the wrought iron
headboard of my bed. I

was still stiff from the beatings Craig and Kathy had given me, and even
my face ached when

she woke me up and dangled a white string bikini over me.

Five minutes later, she had me wearing it at poolside in our backyard.
The pool was

thirty feet long, with chairs and recliner lounges s**ttered around it.
Our backyard was enclosed

by a tall wooden fence, so no one could see in, unless one of our
neighbors tried to climb over it.

Still, I hated being outside, especially in a bikini. She spread a
beach towel on the deck next to

the deep end of the pool, and made me lie on it. Next she handcuffed my
hands over my head to

the pool ladder, and taped my ankles together.

"I'm going swimming now," she said, kneeling beside me. "And you're
going to stay right

here on your back."

"For how long?" I asked.

She slapped me across the face, making me wince.

"And you're going to be quiet, too. If I see you move or hear you say a
word, I'll dump

you in the pool."

And so I lay there in the sun listening to my sister swim and splash
around in the water

for at least an hour before she climbed out and came over to inspect me.

"I think you're done on this side, sweetie. Turn over."

Not daring to speak, I rolled over on my stomach.

"That's better," she said. "You're so pale, you need some color on your
back. Of course

you'll have a tan line, but that's the whole idea, isn't it? So stay
there until I come back."

Oh, no! In this string bikini I was getting a girl's tan. How could I
ever go to the beach or

anywhere else bare-chested this summer?

After an hour on my back, Kathy marched me inside and stripped me. Then
she had me

on the living room floor naked with my hands tied behind my back. She
lashed my ankles with

another piece of cord, and drew my legs up, tying my ankles to my wrists
in a secure hogtie.

Sandra had taught her well.

"Wait right there," she said, "I have to make a phone call."

I couldn't hear her phone conversation, but when she hung up she was
kind enough to

tell me we were expecting company.

"We can't have company over with me like this! You have to untie me. I
have to put

some clothes on!"

"Would you like to wear this?" she asked, grinning at me as she held up
the dreaded

white corset.

"Please let me go. I'll put that thing on if you untie me."

But then the doorbell rang. I turned to the door and then back to my
sister. Who could

be here already? A moment later, Arcadia was standing over me. How
could things get any

worse? Now I was tied up and naked in front of the girl who got me beat
up yesterday.

Arcadia looked down at me and giggled. "Hi, sweetie."

"Arcadia, I didn't want you to see me like this," I groaned.

"It's all right. Kathy told me you were all tied up, but I like you
that way."

"Will you girls please let me go?" I begged.

Kathy grabbed my hair and I screamed as she pulled me up to my knees.

Arcadia moved in to take a closer look at me and said, "You're a cute
little guy, aren't

you? I love your suntan!"

"He really should have been born a girl," Kathy said, and I gasped as
she grabbed my

flaccid penis!

"Kathy, what are you doing?" I strained against the ropes, but that just
made her angry,

and she pulled on my cock. "Stop it! Please don't do that, " I begged.

Kathy let go, and Arcadia laughed so hard she could hardly talk.
Finally she held the

corset in front of me and asked, "Is this yours, Al?"

Before I could answer, Kathy said, "Of course it's his. I wouldn't wear
anything like that."

"Then I'd like you to wear it when we go out," she told me.

"You want me to go out with you? But you had Craig beat me up."

"I made a mistake. I thought I wanted a big, strong guy. But now I've
decided that I'd

rather date a pathetic little wimp I can push around. You'll forgive
me, won't you?"

Naked and helpless on my knees, I could be very forgiving. "We can go
out whenever

you want. I'll do whatever you want. Now will you untie me? These
ropes are starting to hurt."

The two girls looked at each other, and then Kathy untied my wrists. I
rubbed my wrists,

and then I struggled to undo the ropes on my ankles.

No sooner had I gotten free than Kathy ordered me up to my feet, and
wrapped the

corset around me. The two girls laced it up, and now it seemed like my
whole body was in

bondage.

"Kathy, I can't breathe," I gasped.

"Stop whining, you little wimp," she snarled. Then she planted her knee
in my back, and

pulled the laces even tighter. I felt the restrictive boning of the
corset all around me. I gasped

for air, and my legs got weak. The two girls had to hold me up until I
got my breath. I could only take shallow breaths with this awful thing
wrapped around me.

"Now put on your bra and panties," Kathy commanded me. She pointed at
the sofa,

where I saw a training bra, and even worse, a pair of pink panties.

"But that's not my underwear," I complained.

"It is now, sweetie. sisters share their stuff, and I'm giving you some
of my old

underwear. See, I take care of my little sister," she said, and both
girls giggled.

Reluctantly, I stepped into the panties, but after several failed
attempts with the bra,

Kathy grabbed me, and helped me into it none too gently.

"Al, you just look so adorable," Arcadia cooed. "I think we should go
out just like that."

"I'd get arrested," I said. But I had the nagging feeling that whatever
they made me wear

over this stuff might not be much better.

"Now hurry up and get dressed," Kathy told me. "If you keep Arcadia
waiting, she might

get real mad at you."

"But what should I wear?"

"Anything you want," she yelled. "Now move it!" She smacked me on my
pantied butt to

send me on my way.

I hurried upstairs, but I could only get halfway before I had to rest.
This horrible corset

was strangling me. When I finally got upstairs, I thought about getting
out of this awful

underwear. But when I looked in my dresser, all my underwear was gone.
Kathy had left me

some frilly and lacy stuff that made me sick. So I picked out a blue
sweatshirt which was baggy

enough to hide my new girlish figure. Blue jeans and tennis shoes made
me look like a boy

again.

Once I was downstairs again, Kathy made me turn around and model my
clothes. She

tucked my hair under a baseball cap, and said, "Not bad. "You might
even fool people into

thinking you're a real boy instead of a little sissy."

"Thanks s*s, I love you, too," I said, my voice laced with sarcasm.

Kathy nearly turned purple, and shoved me toward the door. Then she
took Arcadia

aside and whispered something to her. I only saw Arcadia nod her head
before she joined me

and we left together.

Once we were safely outside, I asked her, "What did Kathy tell you in
there?"

"You'll find out," she said. "It's such a nice day, let's go to the
park."

That was an order, not a request, so we headed for the park, five blocks
away. We were

almost there when Arcadia asked, "It's awfully warm for you to be
wearing a sweatshirt. Don't

you think you'd be more comfortable if you took it off?"

Underneath my sweatshirt was a bra, and a corset which was even less
comfortable.

"Please don't make me take my sweatshirt off," I begged. "Do you know
what will happen to me

if anyone sees me like this?"

She grinned, and the mischievous look in her eyes was not a good sign.
But she just led

me over to a picnic table.

"I'll be right back," she said. "I'll buy the soft drinks, since you
forgot your purse."

"Thanks a lot," I said. Now I had a moment to think about my
predicament in general,

and Arcadia in particular. Did she hate me like Kathy, or did she just
want to have fun teasing

me? She was on her way back from the refreshment stand when a
motorcycle drove right by

her.

"Watch where you're going, you big idiot!" she shouted. "You could have
hit me."

The biker parked near our table and said, "No harm, no foul, little
girl."

Arcadia ran up to the big biker. Then, as I watched in amazement, that
sweet angelfaced *********** looked up at him, and she spit on his black
leather jacket. The look on the biker's

face suggested that he didn't understand Arcadia either. For a moment
he just stroked his

straggly beard as he stared at the spit on his jacket. Arcadia must not
have gotten the reaction

she wanted, because she walked over to his motorcycle and kicked it
over.

Now the expression on his face changed, and not for the better. He
started toward

Arcadia, who ran straight to me, with the biker in hot pursuit.

"You better leave me alone, you big jerk," she shouted at him. "My
boyfriend will protect

me!"

I could hardly move in the corset anyway, and now I was frozen like a
deer caught in

headlights, as the burly man closed in on me. He grabbed me by the
shirt with one hand, and

lifted me off the ground.

"I...I didn't do anything," I stammered. If he pulled my sweatshirt up
any further, the

corset would show. If I were lucky he might kill me first.

"Your girlfriend has a real bad attitude," he snarled.

"Yes, sir," I chirped, as my voice cracked. "I've been meaning to talk
to her about that. If

you let me go-"

But he yanked me off my feet and dragged me into a nearby public rest
room.

"I didn't do anything," I pleaded. "She's the one who did it."

"Yeah, spitting on me and knocking my bike over was all her idea. And
you weren't

going to have a good laugh about it," he said, as he pulled me into a
stall.

He knocked my baseball cap off, and my lovely curls spilled into my
eyes. Then he

slammed me up against the stall partition and held me there with his
right hand on my throat. "I

think punks like you need to have more respect for other people. You
need to be more civilized,

and mostly you need to learn some manners."

"Yes sir," I said. My knees shook, and tears filled my eyes, blurring
my vision. I tried to

shake the hair out of my eyes, when he hit me in the belly. He yelled
and let go of me, as I

doubled over on the floor. I clutched my stomach against the dull
throbbing pain, and tried to get

my wind back. After an eternity, I looked up at him through a veil of
hair.

"What the hell are you wearing?" he yelled, rubbing his left hand. Then
he grabbed my

sweatshirt, and pulled it all over my head in a single motion. I tried
to pull my shirt back, but he

threw it out of the stall. All I could do was hold my stomach, as I
knelt on the floor, my bra and

corset exposed.

"Let's see what else you got under there, you little freak," he said,
and grabbed for my

belt.

"No!" I cried, and tried to push him away.

He twisted a handful of hair, wrenched my head back, and then pulled me
to my feet. I

squirmed and struggled as he pulled my hair. As I grabbed for his arm,
he hit me on the side of

the face. The punch landed flush on my cheek, and I went down in a
heap. I was dazed and

helpless as he stripped me of my shoes and pants. Then, as I lay on the
floor semiconscious, I

heard him slam the toilet seat and start relieving himself.

Slowly I came to my senses, and I sat up, holding my head. "Please, no
more," I

pleaded. "I didn't do anything. And I'll never do it again."

"You're damn right you won't," he said, as he twisted my arms behind my
back and made

me kneel over the toilet.

He made me look down at the bright yellow fluid, and it stank something
awful.

"Oh, God, no!" I begged, tears running down my face.

He held my wrists together with one hand, and took hold of my hair with
his other. The

stench of urine made me gasp and cough as he yanked my head back, and
then plunged my

face into the toilet. I shut my eyes, but the piss got in my mouth and
nose. He held me under

until I thought I would pass out, and then he finally let me come up for
air. I sputtered and felt

like I was ready to ***** as he held me there, my face barely two inches
from the surface of the

piss.

"Now listen to me, you little bastard! I'm going to get rid of your
clothes, and I'll be right

back. You're going to stay right here with your face in the toilet, you
got that? Because when I

get back, if your face isn't sitting in that piss, I'm gonna drown you
in it. Understand me?"

"Yes, sir," I whispered, nodding my head just above the piss.

He slammed the toilet seat down on me, and I heard him pick up my
clothes and leave.

So I waited, wrinkling my nose from the stench, and afraid to move.
Minutes went by,

and he still hadn't come back. Did he drive off? I couldn't hear too
well with my head in the

toilet. Should I get out and make a run for it? In my corset?

Subject: REPOST:ASV04 The Girl Next Door

From: an293603@anon.penet.fi

Date: 1996/08/15

ALICIA'S SUMMER VACATION

by Diabolical

CHAPTER 4: THE GIRL NEXT DOOR

The acrid stench made my eyes water. Finally I couldn't stand the smell
any more, so I

pushed back from the toilet. I peeked outside the stall, and the biker
was gone. My stomach

aching, I crawled out of the stall, and struggled to my feet. I dragged
myself over to the sink, and

looked in the mirror. The side of my face was already starting to
swell, my hair was matted with

urine, and I stunk to high heaven. I ran cold water, and tried to wash
the smell out of my hair.

It took me a few minutes to clean myself up as best I could, and then I
sank to my knees.

Even if the biker was gone, I couldn't walk home dressed like this. But
I couldn't stay here

because the biker might come back. Finally I peeked outside to see if
the coast was clear.

I was relieved to see Arcadia sitting on a park bench.

She waved to me, and got up. "I saw that biker guy leave with your
clothes, so I went

home to bring you something to wear. Just on the off chance you were
still alive."

I heaved a sigh of relief. I was all beat up, but at least I could go
home. She handed a

piece of clothing through the crack of the door to me. I unfolded it,
and was horrified to find it

was a pink spring dress.

"Don't you have any sweaters or jeans?"

"Well, I never," she huffed. "Talk about gratitude. It was the first
thing I grabbed from

my closet, but if you don't want it, I'll take it away."

Beggars can't be choosers, right? "No! I'll wear it," I said, and
quickly stepped into the

pretty dress. She giggled when I stepped outside.

"You better walk on the other side of me so you'll be upwind. No
offense, Al, but you

smell something awful."

I looked around. Would anyone recognize what I was in this dress? The
dress was wet,

and I could see the corset through it. Turns out I didn't need to
worry. In Los Angeles no one

walked anywhere this time of afternoon. Thank Heaven for the automobile
culture. So we didn't

meet anyone on the way, and somehow I dragged my aching body home, with
Arcadia teasing

me the whole way.

Kathy met me at the door. "Love your new dress, little ******. Looks
like you've had all

the sarcasm beaten out of you."

Before I could say anything Ron took one look at me, laughed, and said,
"You look like

you've ridden hard and put away wet."

Kathy went to take a better look at my swollen face and drew back.
"Yeah, tell us all the

gory details. After you take a bath."

* * * * *

The next day, I woke up to find a pair of stockings on my dresser. I
wasn't in any shape

for a fight, so I put them on and went down to have breakfast with my
brother and sister.

"You look darling in those stockings with that cute floral pattern,"
Kathy said. "Arcadia

and I are going to the video arcade today, and we'd like you to come
along."

"I'm not going outside dressed like a girl," I said. My face was all
bruised and swollen

and my stomach still hurt. I'd taken enough from her, and I was going
to stand my ground this

time.

"Sweetie, you can wear your regular clothes over my underwear, but you
ARE coming

with us!"

"Al, you'd better go with her," Ron said. "And no one will know what
you're wearing."

"All right," I groaned. I didn't want to have any part of Arcadia or
Kathy, but now I had to

go out again.

We met Arcadia at her house, and she expressed displeasure with my
clothes.

"Really, Al. A sweater and jeans. Don't you have any prettier clothes
than that?"

"I'm wearing my pretty clothes underneath," I groaned.

So we all walked to the arcade. I didn't have any money, so I just hung
out watching

other k**s play games, while the two girls spent their time checking out
the boys. Finally, they

dragged me over to a picture booth.

"Come on, we're all getting our picture taken together," Kathy said.

But after we stepped behind the curtain, Arcadia held my arms, and Kathy
pulled my

pants down. I struggled against the girls in vain, as Kathy ripped the
velcro snaps on my shoes

open, and pulled my shoes and pants off.

"What are you doing?" I whispered. "There's lots of k**s here."

"Bend over," she ordered me.

"Why? Haven't you taken enough pictures of me?"

"We're not here to take your picture," Arcadia cooed.

"Here's one of Sandra's toys that she didn't tell you about," Kathy
said, holding up a

flesh-colored, tapered rubber wedge. "I'm going to shove this up your
ass."

My heart was pounding as I stared at that ugly thing. "I won't do it!
There's no way you

can make me do it!"

"Suit yourself," Kathy said. "We'll be on our way now. You can explain
to all the other

boys here why you're dressed like that."

My mouth dropped open. I was trapped in an arcade wearing girl's
underwear.

"See, I'm afraid your disguise has been penetrated," Kathy said, and
threw the curtain

open.

"And that's not the only thing that's going to be penetrated today,"
Arcadia said, giggling.

"No, wait," I whispered as loud as I could without attracting attention.
"I'll do it," I said,

and pulled the curtain shut.

As the two girls snickered, I had to get down on my knees and offer my
butt in the air for

their pleasure. I felt Kathy squirt some lubricant onto me, and then
start working the plug into me as I gritted my teeth.

"Relax, sweetie," she said. "You're making this hurt more than it
should. If you want to

be a real girl, you're going to have to get used to wearing a butt
plug."

"Oooh," I moaned, squirming as the plug forced its way further inside
me. Tears of

shame rolled down my cheeks as she shoved it all the way in. Finally my
sphincter muscles

closed around it.

"Now wipe those tears away, sweetie," Kathy jeered at me. "There's a
whole world out

there waiting to see you!"

At least they let me dress and compose myself for a minute before I had
to face that

world. They pulled the curtain open, and I stepped outside, the butt
plug making me walk stifflegged as it forced me forward. I looked around
in fear, sure that everyone could tell what had

happened to me. But even though the girls couldn't keep straight faces,
no one else paid

attention to a young boy with red eyes hobbling out of the arcade.

That night, I just wanted to go to bed, but Kathy had other ideas.

"I have a date with Craig tonight, and he'll be over soon."

"I thought you broke up with Craig," I said.

"I did, but we've made up. See, he got all upset because I didn't make
you suck his

cock. In all fairness, I tried to be nice to you, but I didn't want to
lose a boyfriend over it. You

can understand that, can't you?"

"I guess so, but what does this have to do with me?"

"Well, after we broke up, the first thing he did was go out with
Arcadia. I couldn't very

well have him going out with my new best friend, what with all the
tension that would cause. So

we agreed to make up. That's where you come in."

"Where I come in?" I didn't like the sound of that.

"See, this whole problem started when you didn't give him a blow job.
He was just so

disappointed. Now to set things right, you're going to be very
accomodating tonight."

"Wait a minute-"

"On your knees, little sissy. Craig will be here any minute, and I want
to make sure

you're tied up nice and tight."

I groaned and knelt before my sister. She quickly wrapped a few loops
of rope around

my wrists, and cinched them tight. Then she expertly bound my ankles,
cross-legged, forcing my

knees wide apart. She bound my ankles to my wrists, and I couldn't move
an inch.

"Kathy, everything hurts. It's too tight," I pleaded.

Then the doorbell rang. "Just in time! Here, maybe sucking on this
will take your mind

off everything else," she said, nudging a penis gag between my teeth.
She tied it around my

head, and giggled. "Go on, you need the practice," she called to me as
she strolled out the door.

I had to wait there on the floor thinking about my fate, bound and
gagged, until I heard

them coming up the stairs. But they had let me go once before. Maybe I
could talk them out of

it. Once I got the gag out of my mouth, anyway. Maybe Kathy just
wanted to take some more

pictures of me, and she just wanted to scare me. Tied up like this, I'd
be happy to pose for them

now. A moment later, Craig and my sister stood over me.

"You don't need to suck on that fake cock any more, ******," he said.
"It's time for the

real thing." And as I watched, he dropped his pants, and then his
underwear. Kathy pulled me

up to my knees, and made me kneel in front of him. Even as Craig untied
my gag, his cock grew

until it pointed straight at my face.

"Guess what, sissy?" Kathy said. "I convinced Ron that this would be
such a special

moment in your life, that he bought this camcorder so we can videotape
it! Now smile for the

camera!"

"You...you're going to tape me doing this?" I cried in disbelief.

"And that's not all. This camcorder has a little color screen, so we
can play it back right

here, and watch it all over again."

"Yeah," Craig said. "That way we can see if we didn't get it right, we
can do it over

again."

"No-" I moaned.

"The camera's rolling, little sissy, so start licking that cock," she
said.

"No, please turn it off," I begged.

Then Kathy grabbed a handful of my hair and turned my head. "I'm going
to explain this

to you once, you little ******. Craig introduced me to the neighborhood
k**s who hang out at the

mall. Unless you behave yourself right now, I'm going to take this tape
down to the mall and

show all those k**s what you are," she said.

"And then I'll take you down to the mall myself," Craig said, "and I'll
personally introduce

you to my friends."

Kathy turned my head back, and now all I could see was the erect cock in
my face.

"All right, I'll do it," I sniffled, trying not to cry. I licked the
tip of his cock, and then took

more of it in my mouth. Slowly I worked it in and out, my tongue
sliding up and down the shaft.

Craig moaned, and his cock grew even larger in my mouth. He grabbed my
hair, and started

thrusting in and out, slamming my chin against his balls.

And then he started spurting cum into my mouth. The salty taste filled
my mouth, and

the realization of what it was made me queasy. I caught a lot of it,
but he pulled all the way out,

and the gooey stuff leaked and dribbled out of my mouth and down my
chin. He pushed me

away, and stood over me, leaving me to look at the cum on his cock.
Helpless even to wipe my

face, I burst into tears.

"Good job, sweetie," Kathy said. "Those tears are precious. Now turn
to face the

camera, and cry like a baby."

Craig helped me by twisting my face around to see that Kathy had moved
in for a

closeup.

"Please let me go," I cried, with tears streaming down my face. "I want
to wash my face."

"Let's see you struggle," she said. "Put on a good show, and I'll let
you clean yourself

up."

"See you around, ******," Craig said. "We'll have to do this again some
time."

But even after Craig left, Kathy kept videotaping me as I sniffled. I
tried to struggle

against my bonds, but I didn't have the strength any more. Finally she
turned off the camera.

"In the future you'll have to do a lot better, ******. Do you feel like
a girl now?"

I just sobbed and finally blurted out, "No!"

"I'm not surprised. Sucking a cock doesn't make you a girl. Real girls
like me don't suck

cock. You're not a girl, little ******, you're just a human toilet. To
be a girl, you'll have to have a

boy fuck you, and I can arrange that, too!"

"Please don't," I sobbed. "I'll do anything you want."

That night she chained me spreadeagled to my bed, with cum smeared all
over my face.

"Why do I have to stay tied up at night?" I asked.

"So you won't be tempted to play with that sorry little cock of yours.
Would you rather I

cut it off, and then we won't have to worry about it?"

I gasped, and shook my head. Maybe being tied up wasn't so bad. But no
matter what I

did, I couldn't get the Craig's taste out of my mouth.

The next morning, Kathy finally let me out of bed. After I had fixed
myself up, she

accosted me in my bedroom. "Now you're going to be a slave girl, and
I'm going to be your

mistress. Isn't that right, little ******?"

I just nodded my head.

"This is what it means to be my slave," Kathy said, "and you'd better
get used to it."

She took her bracelet off and tossed it at my feet. "Now pick it up,"
she ordered me.

I was fuming, but I picked it up.

Then she held out her hand. "Now put it back on my wrist, ******."

I swallowed, and gently eased the bracelet onto her wrist.

But immediately she took it off, and threw it at my feet. "Now do it
again. Only this time,

while you're down there, kiss my feet!"

I didn't know how much more of this I could take. I knelt and kissed
her black vinyl

boots.

"You call that a kiss? I couldn't even feel it. Do it again like you
mean it!"

I planted a big kiss on each of her boots. Then I took the bracelet and
placed it around

her wrist again.

"Very good, ************. Now I've got a pair of bracelets for you to
try on." She shoved a

pair of handcuffs in my face.

I took the handcuffs and stared at them, as she turned her back on me to
pick up a long

wooden paddle.

"You need to be more cooperative," she said. "I hate having to tell you
everything

twice."

I was so sick of her ordering me around. And now she was so sure of
herself that she

was going to make me handcuff myself. She even turned her back on me.
But she shouldn't

have done that.

I snuck up behind her, and snapped a cuff on one of her wrists.

"What do you think you're doing?" she yelled, trying to turn to face me.

But I was too quick for her. I had taken her by surprise, and grabbed
her other wrist.

She was thrown off balance, and I pulled her wrists together and
manacled them.

"Are you crazy?" she shouted. "I'll get you for this!"

"You've already gotten me enough," I said, stuffing a handkerchief in
her mouth. "And

I'm tired of taking orders from you." I shoved her onto the bed.

She screamed into the handkerchief, but only muffled sounds came out.

"Let's take a look at this paddle of yours," I said. "I'll bet it
hurts." Then I lifted her skirt,

revealing her panties.

Subject: (fwd) ASV05 Payback For A Btich

From: PupDoesIt <thwhite@capital.net>

Date: 1996/09/03

ALICIA'S SUMMER VACATION

by Diabolical

CHAPTER 5: PAYBACK FOR A BITCH

"This is for making me have my hair done at the salon," I said, and
smacked her butt. "I wonder how many of these you can take before you
start crying," I said.

She tried to scream again, but now I could see the fear in her eyes, and
I licked my lips in anticipation.

"I guess there's only one way to find out, right Mistress?" I snarled,
grasping a handful of hair and jerking her head way back.

She tried to moan something, but I ignored her pitiful begging, pulled
down her panties and whacked her again. I loved the sound the paddle made
when it landed on her bare ass.

"And this is for making me dress like a girl," I said, and hit her in
the same spot, leaving a nice big red imprint. "How'd you like that one,
Mistress?" I sneered. And then Thwack! "That one was for letting Craig
beat me up. What's this, do we see some tears now? We've barely gotten
started."

My poor sister shuddered and bucked, but I held her good and tight. I
wasn't going to let her go any time soon. "This one is for shoving a butt
plug up my ass," I said, and smacked her the same cheek again. And then
the tears started to flow.

"Is that the best you can do, Mistress?" I taunted her. "Looks like you
can dish it out, but you can't take it. Well, this is for that sun tan on
my chest." And I smacked her reddened cheek yet again.

I stopped for a moment to admire both my work, and the tears trickling
down her face. Then I shook my head. "No, this isn't right at all. One
of your cheeks is bright red, and the other one is still pale. We've got
to make them match, don't you think?"

She moaned into her gag as she shook her head, and turned to look up at
me with tears glistening in her sad eyes.

But in view of the recent past, I was fresh out of mercy. "I don't know
how to make this red cheek pale again, but I do know how to color the other
one," I said. "This is for making me suck Craig's cock."

And I hit her again. And again. And again. With my adrenaline
pumping, I lost count, but I think I hit her seven or eight more times.
Finally I stopped to rest, and my poor helpless sister was sobbing and
writhing now, much to my delight. "How does it feel to be beaten up by
your little sissy brother, Mistress?" I shouted.

But the commotion attracted our brother, and Ron came running into the
room. "What's going on here?" he shouted.

It didn't take him long to sort things out, and set Kathy free.

"I'll get you for this, you little bastard!" she said, choking on tears.

* * * * *

I spent that night chained to my bed wearing nothing but padded leather
cuffs on my wrists and ankles. The next morning, I awoke to find Sandra
dressed in a black leather suit, and shaking me.

"What are you doing here?" I said.

"I came to teach you some manners," she said, and unchained me from the
bed. With my wrists bound in front of me, she grabbed a handful of hair,
and pulled me out of bed.

"Ow," I screamed, "take it easy-"

Then she slapped me across the face, and pulled me close to her. With
one cheek burning, and the other one pressed against her soft leather
jacket, I was wide awake, and she had my full attention.

"You're going to get rid of those masculine habits of yours today," she
said.

Naked and bound, she dragged me off to the bathroom, and threw me into
the little chair in front of the vanity mirror.

"You need a shave," she told me.

"But I'm not old enough. I don't have to shave."

"You do where I'm going to shave you. This body hair of yours is so
unsightly," she said.

"No young lady should ever have hair on her arms or legs."

I watched first in fascination and then in horror as she lathered my arm
and used a

disposable razor on me. It scratched and irritated me, but I wasn't
about to let her know that.

She went to do shave both of my arms and legs.

"That'll do for now," she said. "Does it hurt, sweetie?"

"It's not so bad," I shrugged.

"Then you better get used to doing it yourself every week from now on.
We could some hair remover to make it easier on you, but why waste money on
a little bastard like you?"

I didn't know what to say, and she went on, "That's a nice sun tan you
have on your chest. You must look lovely in a bikini."

Silently I glared at her.

"Oh, you're so beautiful when you're angry," she cooed. "And now I'm
going to make you even more beautiful."

She picked up a pair of tweezers, and held my head firmly. Slowly, she
plucked a hair from my eyebrow, making me wince. And then another and
another. I squeezed my eyes shut, not only from the pain, but from the
fear that she was changing my appearance permanently. The tan lines on my
chest were bad enough, but now I wouldn't be able to show my face without
looking like an effeminate **********. I suffered in silence until she was
through.

"There, don't you look cute?" she said, turning me to face the mirror. I
was horrified to

see the thin feminine arch of my plucked eyebrows.

"Now even if you tried to dress up as a boy, you'll still look like the
sweetest little sissy in town. Imagine what real boys will do to you once
they see that darling little face of yours!"

I barely had time to consider my fate when she gathered up my hair with
a curling iron.

"Now what?" I moaned.

"You're going to have an important visitor today, sissy. I'm going to
tighten your curls a

bit because I know you want to look nice."

And she went on to fix my hair, finally leaving me with a head full of
soft curls hanging to my shoulders. I wrinkled my nose as she started
applying a foundation.

Finally she said, "I think some blush will really bring out your
cheekbones."

My mouth open, I turned my head from side to side, my gaze fixed on the
mirror. I wouldn't have believed it, but from the neck up, my reflection
in the mirror was that of a girl.

"I see you approve," she whispered to me. "But we aren't done yet.
Part your lips."

Still in a haze, I did so willingly, and she applied coral lipstick. I
licked my lips, and I saw

them glisten as she turned me around. Reluctantly, I turned away from
my reflection, and she

brushed my cheeks. At last she announced that her work was done, and
let me look at myself.

She'd covered up my bruises, and I gasped as I stared at the rosy red
blush on my cheeks. I

reached up to touch my face with my bound wrists, just to make sure it
was really me.

But Sandra caught my wrists and pulled them away. "Musn't smudge your
makeup,

sweetie. Now let's see if your sister may have some ideas about
dressing you."

Suddenly my illusion burst. After what I did to Kathy last night, I was
going to be in big

trouble now. Whatever ideas my sister had, they weren't going to be
good ones. Sandra led me

back to my bedroom, where my brother and sister were waiting.

"Well, look at you," Kathy said, as she studied my face. "You never
looked that good as a boy. I think you're going to make a fine little
sister, though."

"What are you going to do?" I asked.

"It's not me you need to worry about," she said. "Wait till you meet
Donna."

"Who's Donna?" I asked.

But it was Ron who answered. "It's become clear that I can't take care
of the two of you

by myself," he said. "And this house is getting to be a mess. So we
need some help around

here."

"What kind of help?"

"I've hired a governess to run the household," he said.

"A governess? What's that, someone who takes care of k**s?" I asked.

"Yeah," he snapped. "She'll take care of you."

TO BE CONTINUED

Subject: REPOST:ASV06 A Leash For Alicia

From: an293603@anon.penet.fi

Date: 1996/08/15

Message-Id: <161431Z15081996@anon.penet.fi>

X-Anonymously-To: alt.sex.stories

Organization: Anonymous forwarding service

Reply-To: an293603@anon.penet.fi

Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories

ALICIA'S SUMMER VACATION

by Diabolical

CHAPTER 6: A LEASH FOR ALICIA

Kathy made me wear just stockings, panties, and the awful white corset.
Then without

any outer clothing, she took me downstairs, where Sandra was waiting for
me with another

woman. Sandra introduced me to a tall, heavily-built woman, whose black
hair was tied back in a bun. Her name was Donna, and in her shapeless blue
muumuu, she looked like she could play

linebacker in the NFL. Even more ominous, she was a friend of Sandra.

I was glad to see Sandra leave, but now I faced this hard-looking woman
in my living

room.

"My name is Donna, and I'm going to make sure that you're a well behaved
************

girl. Is that clear?" she asked me.

"I'm not really a girl," I said. I figured I'd better set her straight
before she got the wrong

idea about me. "They just made me wear these clothes."

Donna suddenly pulled me close by a handful of hair, and slapped me
across the face.

I'd never been hit so hard in my life. My head snapped to the side, and
my knees buckled. My

eyes rolled back in my head as she held me up by my hair.

"Don't you even know how to curtsy, c***d?" she asked.

By now my head had stopped spinning. "I'm sorry," I begged. "Please
don't hit me like

that again."

"Listen to me, little sissy," she said, lifting me on my tiptoes. "You
will speak only when

spoken to, and you will address me as Mistress Donna. Is that clear?"

"Y-yes, Mistress Donna," I stammered.

"You are going to be a good ************ girl, or I will beat you day
and night, is that

clear?"

"Yes, Mistress Donna," I responded, nodding my head feverishly.

"She needs a new name," Donna said. "We can't very well call her Al.
How does Alice

sound?"

I was ready to agree to anything at this point. If they wanted to call
me Bubbles or Sissy,

it would have been fine with me.

But Kathy interrupted before I could say anything. "I think Alicia is
better. A-li-ci-a is a

pretty name," she said, pronouncing all the syllables.

"Very well," Donna said, turning to me. "Your name is Alicia, you are a
sweet ************

girl, and all you care about is looking pretty so that boys will like
you. Now repeat that back to

me."

I gulped and gasped for air, and then addressed her as Mistress Donna,
and professed

my love for my new name, my new sex, and my humble ambition in life.

"I've brought you a new outfit," she said, holding out a black satin
minidress trimmed in

white lace.

"Thank you, Mistress Donna," I said, and hurried as best I could in the
corset to step into

the dress. It felt so soft against my skin that I almost forgot how it
made me look.

Then she spun me around, and tied a white cloth around my waist. I had
to stare at it for

a moment. It was an apron. "But..but this is a maid's uniform,
Mistress Donna!" I cried in

dismay.

"Yes, ************," Donna said. "Do you have a problem with that?"

I turned to my brother for help. "Ron, I'm not a maid. I don't know
anything about being

a maid."

"You'll learn," he said. "There's no point in having you gather dust
around here while

you're bound and gagged up all day. At least this way you might learn a
new skill."

For a moment I was speechless. A split second later I was on my back,
my ears ringing

again. My head lolled from side to side until my vision focused, and I
could see Donna standing

over me. With my head turned, I hadn't seen her slap me again.

"Don't ever turn your back on me, Alicia!" she snarled. Then she
grabbed me by my

pretty lace collar, and sat me down in a chair. I was still
light-headed, when she squeezed a pair

of tight shoes on my feet, and yanked me to my feet. "Do you like your
new shoes?" she

demanded.

"Yes, Mistress Donna," I squeaked, waving my arms for balance. Not only
were these

shoes tight, they were making me lean forward.

"Those are three-inch heels. You'll do all your housework in them.
When you get used

to them, I'll give you something higher."

Higher? I was about to fall over in these things. But then she pinned
a frilly white maid's

cap on my head, and commanded me to walk over to the mirror.

Kathy looked like she was about to die laughing. "Take a good look at
yourself, Alicia!"

she said.

I had only wobbled a couple of steps when Donna grabbed my arm. "That
is not how a

young lady walks. And even though you're a slave, you're going to walk
like a lady."

"Yes, Mistress Donna," I mumbled.

"I like that," Kathy said. "Can I make the little sissy call me
Mistress Katherine?"

"I don't see why not," Donna said.

I let out as big a sigh as the corset would allow. Mistress Katherine.
It just doesn't get

any better than this.

"Then let me show this cute little maid how to walk," Kathy said, and
took me by the arm.

"Now put one little foot directly in front of the other, and sway your
hips and shoulders." Then

she did an exaggerated walk I'd seen fashion models do on a catwalk.

Reluctantly, I took a tiny step, and then another, swaying each shoulder
as I put that foot

forward. And after several mincing steps, I hobbled over to the mirror.

"By George, I think she's got it," Kathy said.

Now I could only stand in front of the full length mirror, admiring my
reflection. There

stood a pretty maid with aching feet, my smiling sister beside me.

"Kath-uh, Mistress Katherine, why do I have to wear these high-heeled
shoes to do

housework?"

"That's to get you used to them. See, you'll want to wear high heels
when you go out

with boys."

"When I go out with boys? I can't go out dressed like this."

"Not like a maid, of course. But when you're wearing a dress or a gown,
you'll want to

have a nice looking set of pumps to go with it."

A dress or a gown? On me? "But these shoes hurt, and I can hardly walk
in them."

"Do I have to explain everything to you? If you were a real boy, you'd
know that's the

idea, sweetie. Boys know that when you're on high heels, you can't run
away from them. If they

chase you, you won't get far. And since you've deliberately worn those
heels, you must want the

boys to catch you, right?"

"But-"

"When a boy sees a girl teetering on high heels, he knows she's looking
for action. And

the higher the heels, the more helpless she's made herself. But these
heels will do for a start."

I wanted to scream, I wanted to cry. "But this is getting worse all the
time," I cried.

"You should have thought of that last night," Kathy said. "I have to
take you to the

shopping center. You really need a new dress."

"I can't buy a dress!"

"You can't go on wearing your big sister's hand-me downs, either," Donna
snapped at

me.

"That's right," Kathy said. "You deserve better. So we're going
shopping tomorrow."

"But for now, you're enrolling in charm school," Donna said.

"Charm school, Mistress Donna?" I asked.

"Think of it as Mistress Donna's Charm School. It's for sissified
******s," she snarled at

me. "You're going to learn how to act like a sweet young lady tonight."

I swallowed. "Yes, Mistress Donna," I squeaked.

I spent the rest of the day learning how to behave myself. I had to
stand like a lady with

my ankles together. How to sit like a lady, smoothing out my skirt
first, and crossing only my

ankles, never my legs. I had to curtsy over and over until I learned to
do it gracefully. If I wanted to laugh at dinner, I had to turn my head
and giggle like a proper young lady. But hardest of all was learning to
stand and walk on high heels.

After dinner, Donna had gone for the day, and I was rinsing the dishes
when Ron passed

by. Somehow, I had to get him to help me.

"Ron," I called to him. "Donna hates me even more than Kathy."

"I think you'll find Donna's really easy to get along with. You just do
everything she tells

you to, and you'll get along with her just fine. And there's a lot you
can learn from her, Alicia."

"Not you, too," I groaned. "Please don't call me that."

"Now there's the problem. You still haven't accepted your new life, and
that's only going

to make things harder on yourself."

"But Ron, they beat me. They made me suck Kathy's rotten boyfriend.
They dress me

like a girl. Like a maid! I can't do this any more. If you don't make
them leave me alone, I'm

going to call the police!"

And Ron's expression hardened. He stepped forward, and at 6-foot-2 he
towered over

me. "Tell you what, Alicia, we can do that right now. I'll call the
cops and tell them my little

****** brother isn't happy with his new clothes. Cops love ******s, you
know. Who do you

think they'll believe? You, or the rest of us?"

"What...what do you mean?" I stammered.

"The neighbors saw you come home from the park in a dress. Your
hairdresser and

others have already seen you out and around dressed as a girl. Everyone
thinks I have two little

sisters. Wait until you try to explain that to the cops. Maybe they'll
send over a big black cop to

investigate. Then you'll have a great big cock to suck on. Does that
turn you on, ******?"

I swallowed, and had to fight back the tears. "No, please don't," I
begged. "I'm sorry. I

won't tell anyone."

"Good girl," he said, patting me on the head. "You've got a lot to
learn this summer.

What IS your name, anyway?"

"My name is Alicia," I said.

"Isn't there more, Alicia?"

I averted my eyes, and mumbled, "I'm a sweet ************ girl, and all
I want to do is look

nice so the boys will like me."

"Glad we got we settled, cutie," he said. "Now finish doing the
dishes."

My last hope was gone, and I had pissed off my brother now. I finished
the dishes, and

went upstairs. All I wanted to do was go to sleep, and forget today had
ever occurred. But Kathy

was waiting for me in my bedroom. She stood near the bed with a leather
strap coiled around

her hand.

"Get on your knees, and crawl over here, sweetie," she said. "I've got
a present for you."

I let out a sigh. It was time for her revenge, and I was too tired to
do anything about it.

Besides, I probably deserved it. Silently, I crawled and knelt at her
feet.

She unwrapped the strap, and it turned out to be a leash with a collar
attached. A

leather collar that she fastened tightly around my neck. "There," she
said, "there's nothing quite

like a collar to say I own you. Isn't that right, ************?"

"Yes, Mistress Katherine," I said, hoping she'd appreciate my formal
address. At least

with the leash attached to my neck, she wasn't going to beat me with it.


"And I've got something else, too," she said, holding up a hairbrush.

I said nothing, but waited for an explanation. The hairbrush might
sting, but I was sure

she could find worse things to hit me with.

"Come over behind me, slave girl," she said, and as I did so, she handed
me the brush.

"You're going to brush my hair now."

"Yes, Mistress Katherine," I said in surprise.

Then she gingerly sat down, squirming a bit as she did so. "For some
reason my rear

end is sore today. But I know the last thing in the world you'd ever
want to do is to cause your

only sister any pain, right sweetie?"

"Yes, Mistress Katherine," I said. She had given me a hairbrush, and
then sat with her

back to me, just daring me to take advantage of her as I had done last
night. And she knew I

wouldn't. I couldn't. Yes, I was afraid to, but the truth is I thought
I might be better off if I could

get on her good side. If she had a good side. Maybe if I were nice to
her, she'd take it easy on

me. Ron sure wasn't going to help me. So I gently brushed the ends of
her hair. My own hair

was long enough that I knew how to avoid snags.

"Very good," she said. "You may be useful for something after all."

Her hair was beautiful: the same color and texture as mine, but it felt
softer and silkier as

I ran my hands through it. She must use a conditioner or something, I
thought, as I took long

strokes with the brush.

Finally, she said, "That's enough." She took the brush from me and said,
"From now on,

you will be my personal slave girl, and you will wait on me hand and
foot. And if you ever hit me again, you will become a girl for real."

"For real?" I asked.

"This morning I asked Sandra about the cost of having a sex change
operation. She

knows a doctor who will perform the operation for $15,000, with no
questions asked. It's a lot of

money, but Ron says we can afford it, if that's what it takes to keep
you in line. They'll cut your

little dick off, and give you breast implants, so you'll have a real
pair of titties."

"Please, Mistress Katherine, don't do that to me. I promise I'll do
whatever you want. I'll

brush your hair every night if you want."

She tugged on the leash, put her hand on top of my head, and pushed me
to my knees.

"Then kiss me good night," she said.

I kissed both of her feet, and she tied me to the bed.

"You'd better get some rest, because you've got a big day ahead of you
tommorow."

"What...what are you going to do?"

"We're going shopping tomorrow. We both know you're just my slave, but
the rest of the

world is going to think you're my sister. And I do want you to look
pretty."

She turned off the light, leaving me bound in the dark. Beating me at
home wasn't

enough for her. Now she had to humiliate me publicly.

TO BE CONTINUED

Subject: REPOST: ASV07 Born To Shop

From: an293603@anon.penet.fi

Date: 1996/08/15

ALICIA'S SUMMER VACATION

by Diabolical

CHAPTER 7: BORN TO SHOP

I didn't sleep well that night. I wasn't used to the collar around my
neck, and the leather

cuffs binding my ankles and wrists didn't help any. That morning Donna
told me she was not

happy with my progress, and informed me that I would be bound every
night until I behaved like

a good ***********. The next morning after breakfast, Kathy said,
"Alicia, your hair looks lovely this morning, but you still need a new
look."

"What do you mean?"

"You'll find out at the shopping center. I've picked out your clothes,"
she said, pointing at

a white blouse and pleated skirt. "You'll wear those three-inch heels
from your maid's uniform."

"But I can't go outside dressed like that!"

"Sweetie, every time you go out dressed like a boy you get beat up.
This way we can

save some wear and tear on your face."

Gee, I would never have thought of that.

"Besides, you came home from the park in a dress, didn't you?" she
continued.

"But that was different! I didn't have any choice!"

She grabbed my hair, and slammed me against the wall. "Like you have a
choice now?"

A half hour later she had marched me to the shopping center. Our first
stop was at a

manicurist, and my feet were aching already.

"But I thought we were going to buy a dress," I complained.

"My, aren't you eager? We'll have plenty of time to find you a dress.
But first you'll have

to have your nails done."

"But I don't want to go in there!" I pleaded.

"What you want isn't important," she said, opening the door and shoving
me inside.

"Jennifer recommended this place."

The shop was empty except for a young brunette named Lynn, who greeted
us with a

smile.

"I'm Kathy," my sister said. "Jennifer at the salon said you could help
me."

The girl's face lit up. "Of course!" she said, and then turned to me.
"And you must be the little sissy!"

My jaw dropped. I tried to turn away, but Kathy took my arm and pushed
me forward.

"Alicia wants her nails done in the brightest red you've got," she said.

"An excellent choice for a sweet ***********," Lynn said cheerfully.
"You'll look adorable,

just you wait and see."

Lynn sat me down at a Formica counter, took my limp hand, and started
filing my nails.

"So how long have you been dressing like a girl, sweetie?"

I rolled my eyes and looked at Kathy.

"Alicia's always been a little ******, but she's just started dressing
the part recently. She

wants to have her nails done so the boys will notice her."

I groaned, but I didn't dare start an argument under these
circumstances.

"Oh, that's so cute!" Lynn squealed. "I can help with that. I have a
friend who manages

the clothing store two shops down. There's lots of pretty dresses to
choose from. While your

nails are drying, I'll let her know to expect you."

So now someone else would find out about me. I felt so miserable as she
lacquered my

nails. One by one they turned a glossy red.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" Lynn asked Kathy.

"Have you finished Alicia already?" Kathy asked.

She'd finished me all right. I was never going to get this stuff off.
My sister admired her

own nails, a much more subdued shade of pink, and said, "Oh, I'm happy
with this color. It's not

as exciting as Alicia's bright red, but then she's more adventurous than
I am. I never know when

the little sissy might try to steal a boyfriend from me!"

They both laughed and laughed while I put my head in my hands. Then
Lynn excused

herself, and I stared at my new nails, hoping they'd dry faster. A few
minutes later Lynn returned

and said, "It's all arranged. I told Barbara at the dress shop all
about you."

As soon as we got outside, l begged Kathy to let me go home.

"Sweetie, we'll do no such thing. They're expecting us at that store."

"But I don't really need a new dress."

"We don't have to buy anything, you little sissy. Girls love to shop,
so you'd better get

used to that. Besides you'll get to try on all those pretty dresses.
Won't that be fun?"

Inside the dress shop at the front counter, we met Barbara, an
attractive thirtysomething

brunette with straight shoulder length hair.

"Oh, you must be Alicia," she said, grinning at me. "Lynn told me about
you, but I had no

idea you'd be so cute."

"Thanks," I mumbled.

"Alicia's looking for a pretty dress for the summer," Kathy said.
"Something that will turn

a boy's head."

"Oh, good!" she said. "So you're not just into fashion. You really do
want to be a girl!"

I made a face, and Kathy elbowed me in the ribs.

"Yes, ma'am," I said.

"I'll find you something with lots of bows and lace," she said as she
e*****ed me inside.

I spent the next hour trying on one frilly dress after another. They
made me strut up and

down as I modeled anything a fashionable *********** might wear. My
feet were killing me, and I

just got more and more disgusted.

"Can't we go home now?" I begged Kathy.

"But we haven't found the perfect dress. If we don't buy anything,
we'll have to come

back again tomorrow and shop all over again. Would you like that,
little sissy?"

"Just pick something, and let's get this over with, OK?"

Kathy selected a low cut black dress that ended around mid-thigh, and
was slit all the

way to the waist. It was practically an invitation to ****.

I frowned, but decided to make the best of it. "All right, can I have
that one?" I asked

Kathy.

"That's 'may I', you ignorant little slut. Donna will hear about this,"
she said.

"I think you'll get lots of attention in that dress," Barbara said.
"Try it on."

I hurried to try on the sleazy black dress. Anything to get out of
here.

"You look hot," Barbara gushed when I returned, as she spun me around.

Kathy dragged me in front of the mirror, and giggled. "The boys will be
all over you in

this. We'll take it!"

Finally I was free. "Let's get out of here," I moaned as we left.

"Not just yet, sissy. We have to stop by the jewelry store for some
earrings."

"But my feet hurt. Why do you need earrings now?"

"Not me, silly. They're for you. But first you have to have your ears
pierced."

I gasped and held my earlobes.

* * * * *

The sign in the window of the jewelry shop said, "Ears Pierced - With or
Without Pain."

"This looks like the place," Kathy said. She knocked on the door, a
buzzer went off, and

Kathy pushed the door open. The store owner was a young blonde woman
named Cecilia. She

was pretty enough, but she had a stern expression on her face, and her
hair was tied back in a

bun. She looked like she was pissed off at the world. On her white
jacket was a button that said,

"I used to miss my ex-husband, but my aim is improving."

"My sister Alicia wants to have her ears pierced," Kathy said, as we sat
at the counter.

"How nice," she said, walking around the counter. "Stand up and let me
have a good

look at you."

This woman made me nervous. The other shopkeepers made fun of me, but
they weren't nasty like my sister. I stood, and Cecilia took my chin in my
hands. She seemed to be

looking straight through me as she gently lifted my hair from my ears.
"Your face has a nice

shape, and you can wear your lovely hair up to show off your ears." Then
her fingers traced

gently over my Adam's apple, and I saw a hint of a smile on her face.

"So tell me, Alicia, are you sure you want to have your ears pierced?"

"Yeah," I mumbled, and then caught myself. "I mean yes, I'd like to.
And without pain."

"It's just that you don't look very happy to be here. Usually little
girls like you are all

excited to have their ears pierced."

"She's just nervous about the pain," Kathy said.

"Are you sure this isn't something your big sister is making you do?"
she asked.

"N-no, I really want to do this," I said.

"I just wanted to make sure," she said. "It's not every day we have a
********** come in

here wearing a blouse and skirt to have his ears pierced."

My eyes got wide and my heart started pounding. Could she have found me
out already? No, she must be teasing me. I laughed nervously, and said,
"You must be mistaken." I

turned to my sister, and said, "Kathy, she thinks I'm-"

The woman hit me with a slap that made the whole side of my face sting
as my eyes

watered. I held my face and looked up at her. Fighting back the tears,
I said, "Kathy, she hit me!

Let's get out of here!"

"I want the truth, or I'll call the police, and you can explain yourself
to them. Are you a

little ****** or not?"

I turned to go, but Kathy grabbed me, pulled my arms behind me, and spun
me around to

face that awful woman again. "You better tell the truth if you know
what's good for you," my

sister hissed.

"All right, I'm a boy," I said.

"No k**ding," she said. She paused for a moment; she seemed emboldened
now that

Kathy wasn't going to defend me. "Do you like it up the ass or do you
just suck cock?"

"No," I said, shaking my head. "I don't like to do anything like that."

She slapped me again, bringing tears from my eyes. "I'll say this for
the last time. I want

the truth."

"He likes to suck my boyfriend's cock," Kathy volunteered helpfully.

Now the woman sneered and backhanded my other cheek, snapping my head
around.

My sister held me fast, and I couldn't get out of the way. She slapped
me again, and snarled,

"The little ****** can speak for himself, can't he?" she snarled.

My ears were ringing, both cheeks were on fire, and tears spilled down
my face. "Yes, I

sucked her boyfriend's cock!" I blurted out. "I'm a boy! I'm a ******!
Please don't hit me!"

She calmed down and said, "I see why you wanted your ears pierced
without pain, you

little sissy. I've had eight-year old girls in here who were tougher
than you."

I sniffled and tried to wipe my face as Cecilia dragged me over to a
counter and forced

me into a chair. Kathy sat next to me, and brushed my hair off my ears.

"You really like getting beat up by women, don't you?"

"Just by you, s*s," I grumbled.

"Has the little sissy done anything to offend you?" Kathy asked. "She
just seems to bring

out the worst in everyone."

"I hate men," she said. "My ex-husband was the worst, but they're all
bad. And I love

hurting them, especially little wimps like this one," Cecilia said,
pinning my hair back and

swabbed my ears with something that made them numb. While she worked on
me, Kathy

wandered off to look at earrings. Mercifully, I didn't feel a thing,
and the bitch had to tell me

when she was done.

"There," she said, "you're done. I'll even throw in a pair of earrings,
perfect for a little

sissy like you." And then she clipped a pair of red plastic hoop
earrings on me.

"Those are cute," Kathy gushed. "And when you get dressed up, we can
get you

something more glamorous."

"I can hardly wait," I groaned.

But things didn't get any better when I got home. I found that I had
more to learn than

just how to be a proper young lady.

"You've had enough fun shopping, young lady," Donna told me. "Now let's
get to work."

Fun? She thought my shopping trip was fun? No matter, a few minutes
later I stood

before her in my maid's uniform.

"Would you take a look at yourself?" Donna shouted. "Haven't I told you
how important

your appearance is?"

I was all confused. I turned to view my reflection in the mirror.
Black satin dress, apron,

white lace cap. "I don't understand, Mistress Donna. I thought you
wanted me to wear this."

"The seams in your stockings are crooked. Your cap isn't on straight,"
she said. "You

have a lot to learn."

Before I could apologize for the grievous crime of crooked seams, she
pulled me over to

a chair and threw me over her knee. She was going to spank me for
this??

"But Mistress Donna, I didn't know any better," I protested. "I'll know
next-"

I felt a sharp pain in my pantied butt. Then she hit me again. I
strained to look, and saw

she was using a riding crop on me. I winced and gnashed my teeth as I
waited for the next one.

"If you say one word you'll regret it, slave," she warned me.

Tears rolled down my cheeks as she hit me three more times. I whimpered
and moaned,

but I didn't cry out. Then just as abruptly as she had begun, she threw
me off her lap.

"Now go fix yourself up. Be back in ten minutes to vacuum the entire
house. When

you're done, you will dust all of the furniture," she said.

"Yes, Mistress Donna," I whimpered, wiping my face with my hands as I
hurried upstairs

to the bathroom.

I redid my makeup, made sure my stockings and cap were on straight, and
ran back

downstairs to present myself for her approval. My butt still ached, and
I couldn't take another

beating. She walked slowly around me, then turned my chin from side to
side. My chin down, I

prayed I had made myself look presentable. To my relief, she just
pointed at the upright vacuum

cleaner. Never had I been so delighted to start doing housework.

The vacuuming and dusting were just to get me used to my new
responsibilities. I spent

the rest of the afternoon cleaning and scrubbing the kitchen and
bathrooms. By the evening, I

was exhausted, and once Donna was gone for the day, I was allowed to eat
dinner. After I had

served my brother and sister.

"Glad you could finally join us for dinner, Alicia," Kathy said.

"I'm sorry I'm late, Mistress Katherine. I was busy with my new job."

"All work and no play makes Alicia a dull dog," she said. "You need to
get out and have

some fun."

"I'm too tired to have fun," I groaned. "And I can't go out looking
like this."

"Oh, but you worked so hard today, sweetie. Why, I was getting tired
just watching you

run around here. I think you owe it to yourself to have some fun."

I eyed her with suspicion. She was being very unKathy-like.

"I think you need to have a date," she said matter-of-factly.

"Mistress Katherine, I can't date anyone. I look like a girl," I said.

"And a very pretty one at that. Why do you think I took you shopping
this morning?" she

said. "Once you get into that little black number, you'll have boys
drooling all over you."

"Ron, please help me," I begged. "I can't do this. I can't be a girl
on a date-"

"She's right, Kathy," Ron said. "She has a lot to learn before she pass
for a girl."

Whew! I was safe, at least for now. I sat back in my chair.

"I didn't exactly say she had a date with a boy," Kathy said with a
grin. "Arcadia wants to

go out with the little ******."

"Ron, I don't think that's such a good idea," I said, my voice cracking.

"And why not?" Kathy said with a huff. "She's my best friend, and
everyone says she's a

delightful girl."

"But Ron, every time Arcadia comes near me, I'm risking my life."

"All right, I've heard enough from both of you girls," he said.
"Alicia, you aren't going out

like that. Arcadia will spend the evening here with you. Kathy, you
and I are going to see a

double feature, so the two of them can be alone."

"Well, it's better than nothing," Kathy said, getting up to leave.

"And if you know what's good for you, ***********, you 'd better behave
yourself tonight," he

told me.

* * * * *

That evening I was all nerves, not looking forward to a date with
Arcadia. Kathy made

me get into my sleazy new dress, and inspected me closely.

"Mistress Katherine, why do I have to get all dressed up for Arcadia?"

"Because I want you to get used to looking your best. I'll give you two
choices. You can

wear this hot new dress, or I take it off you, and leave you here
wearing nothing but ropes."

Not much of a choice. I gulped, and smoothed out my dress. "It goes
nice with my

shoes," I said.

A few minutes later Arcadia came over, wearng a pink sweater and a white
skirt. She

took one look at me, and covered her face as she blushed. "You and I
are going to have a good

time tonight, Alicia," she said.

"I think I'm overdressed," I said.

"Don't worry. We can put that outfit to good use," she said, opening
her compact, "but I

need to touch up your makeup."

She didn't explain herself, and I had no idea what she had in mind.
With my appearance, and her general weirdness, I could only wonder where
this evening would lead. She applied a deep rose blush to my cheeks, and
painted my lips bright red. I checked myself out in the mirror; in this
sleazy dress and overdone makeup, I was just asking for trouble. As soon
as Ron and Kathy left, Arcadia got on the phone. I tried to listen in on
Arcadia's half of the conversation, but it didn't do any good.

"It's all set, Alicia," she called to me as she hung up.

"What's all set? What are we going to do tonight?" I asked.

"We're going to double date. I invited a couple of boys over here for
the evening."

My chin nearly hit the floor. "You did what? I can't go on a date with
a boy!"

"But we've got nothing else to do," she said.

"You need a hobby," I grumbled.

"I already have a hobby," she said. "My hobby is boys."

"But Ron didn't say I could have anyone else over here!"

"Alicia, sometimes it's a lot more fun to break the rules. I know these
two boys, and I'm

sure we'll all have a good time."

"Three of us anyway," I groaned. "And what happens if they figure out
what I really am?"

"Then the boys might be upset with you," she said, caressing my cheek.
"If I were you,

I'd try not to let that happen."

Oh, this evening was going to be one to remember. If I lived through
it. "Who are these

guys?" I asked. "How well do you know them?"

"So that's it!" she said with a devilish smile. "You just want to know
who I'm going out

with. You're jealous because I'm dating someone else, aren't you?"

I gaped at her. This was one strange girl. "What? You think-"

"Look, you may be really cute, but did you really think I could be happy
without seeing

anyone else? I mean, you can go out with other boys, so why can't I?"

"You...you can go out with anyone you want! Who did you invite here?"

"My date is Paul, and he's a nice k**, but your date's a real stud!" she
gushed. "His

name is Carlos, and he's a senior, my school's makeout artist. He's big
and strong, and always

wears a leather jacket."

"Uh, I don't think he's my type," I said. I didn't know what my type
is, but I was pretty

sure Carlos wasn't it.

"But you're going to do whatever he wants, aren't you? If you know
what's good for you,

you're going to make him very happy tonight. See, I'm Miss Prim and
Proper in my sweater and

skirt, while you're one wild vixen in that hot little dress of yours.
So I figure he'll be perfect for

you!"

TO BE CONTINUED

Subject: REPOST:ASV08 Double Date

From: an293603@anon.penet.fi

Date: 1996/08/15

ALICIA'S SUMMER VACATION

by Diabolical

CHAPTER 8: DOUBLE DATE

A few minutes later the boys arrived, and Arcadia introduced me to
Carlos. He was tall

and dark, his long hair slicked back.

"Nice outfit, Alicia," he said.

"Uh, thanks," I said, and flashed a nervous smile.

"Alicia, why don't you show Carlos the house?" Arcadia said. "That way
Paul and I can

have some privacy."

"Yeah, we can start with your bedroom," Carlos said, eyeing me.

I led him upstairs into my bedroom, and he pulled me close. I felt his
strong arms around

me, and as he pulled me against him, my face only came up to his chest.

"Arcadia tells me you're really wild. She said you'll do anything on a
first date."

"Is that all she told you about me?" I asked, looking up at him.

"Is there more?" he said, grinning.

A lot more, I thought as I put my hands on his chest and gently pushed
him away, but

nothing he needed to know.

"Don't worry, I've got protection," he said, and took a condom out of
his wallet.

"Uh, I've got my period now...maybe we could do something else," I said,
licking my lips.

He didn't say anything, but he couldn't get out of his pants fast
enough. I had him lie on

the bed, and climbed up between his legs. His cock was limp until I
started fondling his balls. As I rubbed, his penis started to grow, and
when I raked my nails across his balls he let out a moan. This was a lot
easier when I was allowed to use my hands.

He got hard almost immediately as I took him in my mouth. I flicked my
tongue along

has shaft, and his whole body spasmed and shuddered. In seconds he shot
his load. I licked

his cock clean, and kissed it. I was becoming one efficient cocksucker.

"Alicia, you've done this before," he said, smiling at me as he caught
his breath.

"Maybe once or twice," I said. "But we'd better get downstairs. I'll
meet you down there."

He got dressed and went downstairs, while I wiped my face and fixed my
garish lipstick.

The really gross part was picking the hairs out of my teeth. As soon as
I got downstairs, Arcadia

was waiting for me, and pulled me aside.

"So how big is his cock?" she asked.

This girl had a one-track mind. "Maybe six inches," I whispered.

"Well, I've got some more good news for you," she said, grinning at me.
"The boys are

talking about your performance."

I gasped. "Carlos told Paul about me?"

"What do you expect? Boys talk about that stuff," she said. "Real
boys, anyway."

I just glared at her.

"Don't get upset, sweetie. You haven't heard the good news yet. Paul
wants the same

thing you gave Carlos."

"Your date wants me? How am I supposed to do that?"

"I will admit, it could be a little sticky for you," she said.

I fumed silently.

"Don't worry, I have a plan. I'll distract Carlos, and you can slip
away with Paul."

"I don't know about this," I said, shaking my head.

But Arcadia went across the living room to see Carlos. "Turn on the
Sega," she said,

"we can play Mortal Kombat."

"I don't like to play video games," Carlos said, as he sprawled on the
couch.

"What's the matter?" Arcadia taunted him. "Are you afraid to lose to a
girl?"

"We'll see about that," he said, getting up.

Paul drifted over to me, and as Arcadia started the game, she winked at
us. About a

hundredth of a second later, Paul grabbed me by the hand, and dragged me
toward the

staircase. With Carlos engrossed in the game, we snuck upstairs. Up in
my bedroom, I flashed

a smile at Paul, and went down on him. He was just as horny as Carlos,
and didn't last any

longer.

When we got downstairs, Arcadia and Carlos were still playing their
game, and they

hadn't missed us. Finally the game was over, and the boys started
making excuses about having

to leave. I guess they had already gotten what they came for.

"I'm glad that's over," I said, after the boys were gone. "They never
guessed about me."

"Of course not, you make a very convincing slut," she said.

"Thanks a lot," I said. "Do you have anything else in mind for
tonight?"

"No, I ought to be going home, too," she said, taking a pair of
handcuffs from her purse.

"Of course, I can't leave you here unattended. Hold out your wrists."

I frowned, but did as she said. I held out my hands, and she locked the
cuffs on me.

"Come on, I'm going to put you to bed," she said.

Now what? She led me upstairs to my bedroom, and tied my wrists to the
headboard.

I laid there on my back, bound and still fully clothed, and she held out
a white cloth.

"I brought you something. Open your mouth," she commanded me.

I did so, and she stuffed it in my mouth, gagging me. It had a strange
taste as I worked it

around in my mouth.

"I thought you'd like to clean my panties for me," she said.

I winced and shook my head.

"The thought of you sucking those two boys really turned me on, so I
masturbated in my

panties tonight. I'm afraid they're kind of yucky," she giggled, as she
taped my mouth shut.

Now she tells me.

* * * * *

The following morning I was on my hands and knees scrubbing the kitchen
floor, clad in

my maid's uniform, complete with knee pads and handcuffs, when Donna
pulled me to my feet.

"Is something the matter, Mistress Donna?" I asked.

"Have you taken a look at your hair, slave?" she demanded.

I looked in the mirror, and saw a few stray hairs had gotten loose from
my maid's cap,

and fallen across my forehead. I pushed the hair aside, and said, I'll
fix my hair right away.

"Don't bother," she said. "I have a brush right here. But first you're
going to feel it

across your bottom."

She didn't have to say anything else. I pulled up my minidress, and
bent over her lap.

"This will teach you to pay more attention to your hair," she said.

She hit me a dozen times, beating me until I had to cry out. Finally
she dragged me to

my feet, and lifted me up on my tiptoes to face her.

"If I ever see your hair or nails or makeup isn't perfect, you're going
to get more of the

same. Only a lot worse."

"Yes, Mistress Donna," I sobbed.

From that moment on, I must have checked my hair and makeup a hundred
times a day.

I was paranoid that one hair would be out of place, or my lipstick might
be smudged. No matter

how busy I was with the housework, I always made time to check myself in
the nearest mirror.

And that afternoon, Kathy came home. With Craig. For a while they just
watched, as I

hurried back and forth, doing housework and checking my appearance in
the mirror.

"See what I mean?" I heard Kathy say. "She's such a sissy now that she
can't pass by a

mirror without stopping to primp and preen."

"Then let's give her something to do," Craig said. "We can give her an
excuse to fix her

lipstick."

I stopped in mid stride and turned to see Kathy and Craig exchange
glances. Then

Kathy approached me, unlocked my handcuffs, and then locked them behind
my back.

"You need a break, sweetie," she said. "Why don't you go upstairs, and
kneel next to

your bed with your mouth open until Craig comes up to visit you."

How could I refuse an invitation like that? "Yes, Mistress Katherine,"
I mumbled.

"Mistress Katherine??" Craig said with a laugh. What, is the little
****** your slave

now?"

"You don't think so?" she asked him. "Watch this! Alicia, crawl over
to the stairs."

In dismay I sank to my knees, and swung one of them out in front of me.
With my hands

bound behind me, I could hardly crawl. Ever so slowly, I crawled across
the room.

At least she let me walk up the stairs, and then I had to wait for the
inevitable.

TO BE CONTINUED

Subject: REPOST:ASV09 Fun In The Sun

From: an293603@anon.penet.fi

Date: 1996/08/15

ALICIA'S SUMMER VACATION

by Diabolical

CHAPTER 9: FUN IN THE SUN

A few minutes later I heard Craig come upstairs, and I opened my mouth.
He found me

waiting for him facing the bed on my knees, mouth wide open.

"You know what, ******," he said, unzipping his pants, "I'm kind of
tired, so I think I'll just

lie here and let you do all the work. If you want to suck my cock,
you're going to have to work for it." And he lay on the bed flat on his
back, his hands behind his head, and his cock flaccid.

I pulled myself upright, and leaned over his cock. The corset made it
hard to move, and

I couldn't use my hands. It was all I could do to reach his cock, and
start taking it in my mouth.

He just yawned.

I drew his cock in and out of my mouth, but to no effect. He wasn't
even trying. Here I

was, the ************ girl doing him a favor by sucking on his limp
cock. I had to struggle for five

minutes just to get him hard. Finally I stopped in exhaustion.

"Come on, you ******," he shouted, grabbing me by a handful of hair.
"Take it all in!

Suck me until your jaw falls off!"

I caught my breath, and went down on him again. It took another minute
of rocking back

and forth, but I finally got him off, his cum splashing in my face and
eyes.

"There, that wasn't so hard, now was it?" he asked, getting dressed.

But I had to stay there on my knees until the cum dried on my face
before Kathy let me

go fix myself up. I spent the rest of the afternoon doing the laundry
and ironing clothes. I was

becoming a regular little homemaker. I had just finished ironing when
Kathy waltzed in, wearing

a red one-piece swimsuit.

"Alicia, you've worked so hard today that I've asked Donna to let you
take a break. Put

on your little white bikini with your high heels. Nothing else," she
said, and then added, "and

because you've been such a good ***********, you may cuff your hands in
front of you."

"Yes, Mistress Katherine," I said. Thank goodness for small favors,
huh?

I went out to the pool and saw my sister sunning herself on a recliner
lounge and reading

a copy of Cosmopolitan. She was still wet from having been in the pool,
her hair slicked straight

back.

"Hasn't this turned out to be a beautiful day? The fog just burned off
real late today, so it

isn't too hot, but we can work on our tans together," she said, and
handed me a palm frond.

"Stand over here on my left, facing the sun."

I took the huge leaf and stood as she told me.

She smeared a dab of sun block on my nose and said, "We wouldn't want to
burn that

little button nose of yours, would we?"

"No, Mistress Katherine," I said.

But she shushed me, and held a red ball gag against my lips. "No more
words from you,

************. Now take the ball. I picked it out to match your
lipstick."

"Please leave me alone-" I started to say, but the scowl on Kathy's face
made me think

twice. I opened wide, and she worked the gag as far in as she could,
tying it in place. This

horrible gag stretched my cheeks and mouth out of place, but there was
nothing I could do about

it.

"Now be a good girl and fan me, won't you?"

She was so polite. But then she didn't have to order me around any
more. She knew I

wouldn't dare step out of line again. I obediently waved the frond with
my bound hands.

For the next hour, I fanned my sister, standing on high heels until my
feet ached. The

ball gag made my jaw ache so much that I couldn't help but moan. My
hair was soaked with

sweat, and I felt it trickling down my chest and back, too. The heat
didn't bother my sister at all.

Once in a while she got up to dive in the pool. But she was thoughtful
enough to give me

permission to stop waving the fan while she was in the pool.

Fortunately, by late afternoon the fog was rolling back in, and I had a
chance to cool off.

Kathy must have felt chilly, because she gave me permission stop fanning
her. "Arcadia will be over any minute," she said. "I invited her over to
give me all the juicy details of your date last

night."

Just what I needed. God only knows what Arcadia would do to me when she
saw me like

this.

But she must have heard my moaning because she asked, "Alicia, is that
gag bothering

you?"

I nodded my head as vigorously as I could.

"Would you like a smaller one?" she asked, holding up a penis gag.

It looked like the penis gag had a much smaller diameter, so it had to
be better than this

terrible ball gag. I nodded again.

She untied the ball gag, and removed it. "All right, slave girl. Now
say, 'please let me

suck on that cock', and I'll give it to you. Otherwise the ball goes
right back in."

I worked my jaw, trying to ease the stiffness that had set in. Finally,
she lost patience

and started to shove the ball back in. "Please let me suck on that
cock, Mistress Katherine," I

blurted out.

"Good girl," she said, and slid the penis gag into my willing mouth.
After strapping on

this smaller gag, she asked me to stand on the other side of the lounge
facing her. "We want

your back to get some sun, too, so all of your tan lines will show up."

I walked around and stationed myself as she told me, and started waving
the palm frond.

And that's when Arcadia showed up, in a red-and-orange bikini.

"Tell me all about last night," Kathy said.

"We had the best time," Arcadia said as she sat on the lounge next to
Kathy. "Alicia got

down on her knees for both of the boys."

"I wish we could have taped that," Kathy said. "In the future, maybe we
can work out

some kind of **********era."

And I had to stand there and wave the palm frond as Arcadia filled in
Kathy on all the

juicy details of our date. I thought the girls would never stop
laughing.

"Let's go swimming," Kathy said, "and we can take her with us, too."

I looked up in alarm. She meant me. In the pool. With my hands bound.


"Of course, she can't wear handcuffs in the pool," Arcadia said.

"No, of course not," Kathy agreed, and she took the palm frond from me,
and unlocked

my handcuffs.

Whew! For a minute, I thought they were going to throw me in the pool
like that. I

rubbed my wrists, and moaned into the gag.

But then Arcadia pulled my arms behind my back, and I felt Kathy lashing
my wrists

together with cords. "Those handcuffs would rust in the pool. These
ropes are much better."

I shook my head, and whimpered into the gag as the ropes bit into my
wrists.. They

couldn't do this to me!

"Oh, now don't be such a sissy," Kathy said. "Once the ropes get wet,
they'll loosen up a

bit, and I'm sure you'll be much more comfortable."

And then each girl took an arm, and they led me to the shallow end of
the pool. I spread

my legs, and dug in my heels against the concrete, but to no avail. I
was bound and

outnumbered me, and they dragged me kicking and screaming to the edge of
the pool.

"Now just for being a bad ***********, I'm going to tie your ankles,
too," Kathy said.

They had me face down on the pavement, just inches from the water, and I
screamed

into the gag.

But they ignored my whimpering and begging, as Kathy tied my ankles just
as tightly as

my wrists.

"Now stop whining," she said. "Even like this, you can still do a
dolphin kick."

Mind you, I'm a good swimmer. Very comfortable in the water. I grew up
in Santa Cruz,

a surf town. I've swam in rough water, and I've paddled out on my
boogie board through strong

surf. I even went through the Junior Lifeguard program. But on none of
those occasions was I

bound hand and foot.

"Shouldn't we take the gag out?" Arcadia asked.

"No, she'll just start screaming," Kathy said.

I shook my head. "No, I won't," I slurred into the gag.

"Besides, she loves having a cock in her mouth, even if it's only a
rubber one," Kathy

said. "Why, just before you got here, she begged me to put that gag in
her mouth. Tell the truth

now, sweetie. Isn't that right?"

My sister was so good at twisting things. I wish I could be half as
sneaky as she is. But

she had me, and I nodded my head.

"All right," Arcadia said, "then let's go."

And the two girls pulled me to my feet, and left me standing
precariously at the edge of

the pool as they dove in. I stood there shivering, the ropes biting my
wrists and ankles.

"Come on in, Alicia. The water's fine," Arcadia called to me. Then she
splashed water

on me.

"Jump in right now, sissy, or we'll come out and get you," Kathy taunted
me. And now

both girls splashed water on my legs and chest.

I whimpered into the gag, but I wasn't going into the pool under my own
power. And it

didn't take them long to figure that out. They climbed out of the pool,
and grabbed me. Kathy

took me under the armpits, and Arcadia lifted my legs off the ground.
Now I was airborne and

completely helpless as they laughed and swung me back and forth. I
looked up at Arcadia and

made little squeals and screams, as they counted, "one, two...three!"

They heaved me into the air, and I soared up and then down. I blew some
air out of my

nose just before I hit the surface, sending water splashing everywhere.
A moment later, I got my

feet under me, and stood up. By the time I could catch my breath with
the gag in my mouth, the

girls were already in the pool.

"Shame on you for making us leave the pool and come get you," Arcadia
said. "The air

is colder than the water, and you made me feel chilly. Maybe we should
huddle for warmth." And she pulled me close to her.

I shivered and trembled, as I stumbled in the water. Waist deep water
is hard enough to

walk in when your legs aren't tied together.

"Will you stop being such a big baby?" Kathy said. "We aren't going to
drown you in

three feet of water."

"No, we've got the deep end for that," Arcadia said, nose to nose with
me.

My eyes widened as I stared at her leering face. This girl was just
crazy enough to do it.

Helpless, I squealed as Arcadia pulled me backwards until I was floating
on my back. Then she

gave me a little push toward the deep end of the pool.

Bound and gagged, I looked from side to side as I saw myself floating
out toward deeper

water. I had to stay calm. As long as I didn't panic I'd be all right.
I could float all day if I had to. I just had to breathe normally, despite
the gag in my mouth.

As I drifted along the two girls climbed out of the pool, and dried
themselves off.

"See you later, Alicia," Kathy called to me. "You did say you wanted me
to leave you

alone."

"Bye, sweetie. We're going shopping now with Donna, so you're on your
own," Arcadia

said, and blew a kiss to me.

I looked up at them in horror. They were going to leave me in the pool
all tied up! With

this gag in my mouth, I couldn't even call for help. Helplessly, I
floated along, and saw the girls

pack up and go. My heart started pounding; they couldn't leave me like
this. But then I heard

the car start up, and they drove off.

My heart sank. And how long would it be before the rest of me sank?

TO BE CONTINUED

Subject: REPOST:ASV10 Sink Or Swim

From: an293603@anon.penet.fi

Date: 1996/08/15

ALICIA'S SUMMER VACATION

by Diabolical



CHAPTER 10: SINK OR SWIM

Trying to remain calm, I drifted along and stared up at the gray
overcast sky. But then I

bumped my head on the side of the pool. Startled, my face dipped in the
water, and some got up

my nose. My sinuses burned, and I struggled to get my head above water.
Instinctively, I squirmed and strained against the ropes, but all that did
was wear me out.

Coughing and choking, I finally got some air, and tried to tread water
using just my

bound legs. I was gasping for air, and sucking on the gag, but after a
minute of trying to stay

afloat, I was so exhausted that I couldn't even kick my legs any more.
Finally I managed to flip

over on my back and float, while I caught my breath.

I was lucky to get out of that. And now I was so tired that the next
time I went under I

might not make it back to the surface. After I rested for a few
minutes, I had to come up with a

plan. The girls were gone, and I had to get out of this on my own. I
don't know how much longer

I could last, so I had to try something. I was still in the deep end,
but I managed to turn around

to face the wall. I planted my feet on the wall, sucked in as much air
as the gag let me, and

pushed off.

I sailed through the water, and as my momentum slowed, I did a dolphin
kick with my

bound legs. It gave me enough of a push to make it half way across the
pool. And that was far enough; the water was only four feet deep here.
Slowly, I hopped along the bottom in chestdeep water until I got to the
shallow end and rested. Luckily, the water had loosened the ropes a

bit. No way could I get out of them, but at least the wet ropes weren't
cutting off my circulation.

And that's where I waited for Kathy. A couple of hours later she found
me sitting on the

steps in the shallow end of the pool, neck-deep in the warm water.

"Nice to see you're still alive," she said. "But let me help you out of
the pool; we need

you to serve dinner."

She took the gag out of my mouth, and I shivered in the breeze, dripping
wet. "I could

have drowned in there," I cried.

"Oh, poor baby. You should have that before you beat me, little
sister," she said,

sneering at me.

"Was this your payback, just because I hit you?"

"Oh no, sweetie. I've got something else in mind for payback. Now hop
to it," she said,

and swatted me on my sore butt.

Still bound and shivering, I had to hop across the pool deck toward the
house. And to

think this wasn't enough revenge for her.

* * * * *

After dinner Donna left for the day, I looked forward to some peace and
quiet. And some

rest for my aching butt. But only after I cleared the dinner dishes did
I learn that Sandra was

coming over to spend the night with Ron. Trouble is, she wanted to see
me, too.

Sandra found me in my bedroom, and wasted no time getting down to
business with me.

Moments after her arrival, she had me on my knees, still clad in my
maid's uniform.

"You've become one uppity little bitch, haven't you?" she said. "What
were you thinking

when you beat up your sister?"

"She deserved it," I mumbled. I guess Kathy leaving me in the pool to
drown wouldn't

matter to Sandra.

"And bringing a couple of boys over here last night? I know boys turn
you on, but did

Ron give you permission to have friends over for the evening?"

"But Arcadia made me do it-"

"Trouble is, Ron's too nice to you. Even Donna and Kathy haven' t been
able to teach

you any manners. Why don't you get out of that cute little uniform?"

I was delighted to take off the symbol of my humiliation. But she had
me strip down to

my birthday suit, and then handcuffed my wrists behind me. Naked and
bound, I stood looking

up at her.

"Your skin is so smooth," she said, caressing my arms, and then running
her finger down

my chest to my navel. "But you still have all this hair around that
ugly little penis of yours. Don't you want to be clean shaven all over?"

"But no one ever sees that hair," I begged. "It's always covered."

"Wrong answer," she said. Then she used a small pair of scissors to
trim my pubic hair.

"Please be careful down there." I said.

"Oh, what's the matter, ******? What good is a shriveled little cock
for a girl like you?"

I held my breath and watched her shave my groin clean.

"This is the only cock you need," she said, holding up a dildo. "And I
know just the place

for it. In fact I think you should wear one from now on!"

"No! You can't make me do that!"

"OH? And what are you going to do about it?" she said, and slapped me
across the

face.

My cheek stung, and I tried to clear my head. No sooner than I looked
her in the eye did

she smack me again. Same cheek, only harder. Tears trickled down my
cheeks, and I struggled

to back away. But she grabbed a handful of my hair, and pulled me close
again.

"Going somewhere?" she asked, and slapped me twice more.

I couldn't get away. I couldn't even move to escape the blows that
stung my face. She

squeezed my mouth shut, her fingers abusing my burning cheeks, and
backed me up until I was

pressed against the wall. She taunted me as she stood nose to nose with
me, pulling my hair,

and swatting my cock from side to side. Naked and bound, I was helpless
as she tormented me.

There was only one thing I could do. As she leaned forward I spit right
in her pretty face!

I got her good, too! There was spittle all over her mouth and nose,
even in her eyes.

Her mouth dropped open. She stood straight up, wiping at her eyes. But
she didn't get upset.

"I can see that we aren't making any progress here," she said in a calm
voice. "Wait

right here. I'll be back real soon."

I watched her leave, and then hurried over to the bed. I sat down, and
then swung my

feet up on the bed. I tucked in my legs, and tried to get my feet
through my handcuffs to get my

wrists out in front of me. But I was still squirming and writhing on
the bed when Sandra returned, carrying a large bag.

"Time to stop playing with yourself, ******," she said. "I've got
plenty of stuff here to

arouse you."

"Go away!" I screamed at her.

But she flipped me on my back and started lubricating the crack of my
ass.

"I wasn't sure what size butt plug you prefer, so this one will be
perfect."

I turned to look back and saw a large rubber plug with a bulb attached.
"Get that thing

away from me!" I shouted.

"Don't you tell me what to do, slave girl," she said, and shoved it deep
inside me. Then

she thrust it in and out. "Is this the way you like it?" she asked.

I moaned with each thrust, fresh tears spilling down my hot cheeks.
When she paused

for a moment, I pleaded, "Please leave me alone!"

But then the plug inside me began to swell. She was inflating it!

"Mistress Sandra, please, it's too big!" I whined.

"Poor baby," she said. "Get used to it, because you'll be dating boys
bigger than this

soon."

I sobbed and squirmed, trying to get comfortable with what seemed like a
watermelon

shoved up my ass.

"And now here's something so your mouth won't feel lonely," she said,
flipping me over

on my back, and waving a black ball with a leather strap in my face.

My eyes widened. It had to be two inches across. "But I can't put that
in my mouth," I

protested.

"Open wide and say ah," she said, forcing it against my teeth.

I opened my mouth, and she pushed it in, stretching my jaw. Finally,
she strapped it in

place behind me head. I moaned and groaned through the gag as I
squirmed and fidgeted.

"Now, how does it feel to have both of your holes plugged?" she asked
sweetly.

All I could do was lie there, whimpering and kicking my legs.

"Glad you like it," she said. "Now let me explain the changes you're
going to see around

here. From now on you're going to work in your corset all day. And
you're going to wear fiveinch heels to make you look even sexier."

I groaned in dismay and shook my head.

"Oh yes you are," she said. "And I'm going to connect your ankles with
a 12-inch chain,

just to make sure you don't try to hobble off in that cute little
uniform of yours. But first I've got

another surprise for you."

I didn't want any more surprises. I'd had my fill of surprises by now.
But she showed me

another butt plug. What could she want with another one?

"From the looks of your inflatable plug, you should be ready for this
now."

She bent me over, forcing me to balance on my knees and face. As I
gritted my teeth,

she deflated my butt plug, and slowly drew it out. Fortunately, once
she let the air out, it shrunk

enough that it popped right out. But then she screwed in the other one,
driving it in and out to

make me buck and squirm. It was so big that I screamed into the gag,
but finally I felt my

sphincter muscles close around it.

"This is where it really gets to be fun," she said.

And then the plug started vibrating inside me! It was wedged in against
my prostrate,

and the buzzing was driving me crazy. This was a new feeling, and on
some level it was

arousing me. I felt my cock starting to rise.

Sandra grabbed my hair, pulled me up on my haunches, and stared at my
growing

erection. "So in spite of all your protests, our little ****** likes
having a cock shoved up his ass

after all!" she said.

I shook my head and murmured into the gag, but I couldn't help myself.
In seconds my

cock stood straight as a flagpole.

"We can't have any of that, Alicia!" she said in mock anger. "Bad
girl!"

And then she took hold of my rigid cock, and pulled on it. I screamed
at her, but all that

got me was a slap in the face. My cheek stinging and tears in my eyes,
the erection wilted.

"Now that's much better," she said. "And just to make sure this never
happens again, I'm

going to put this love strap on you."

It looked like a jockstrap, but with a fine wire mesh sheath. She
pulled it through my

legs, and tied the leather strap around my waist. Then she slipped my
flaccid cock into the metal

sheath, and pulled it through my legs, tying it in back of me on the
leather belt.

"Presto!" she said, "no more erection. You'll find that you'll have to
go to the bathroom

sitting down from now on. Trying to have an erection will not only be
impossible, it'll be painful."

Helpless, I could only stare at the perverse chastity belt around my
waist.

"I know it'll be difficult for a slut like you to stop thinking about
sex, and having erections,

so we're going to work on that, too. See, since you spit on me, I
figure you've got too much

testosterone."

The glazed look in my eyes must have told her I didn't know what she was
talking about.

"You little silly, I have to explain everything to you. Testosterone is
very bad. It's the

male hormone, and it makes you act like a boy. I'm going to give you
estrogen, to make you act

like a girl. You'll take one pill every day, and soon you'll start to
act and even look more like a

girl. Why, after awhile, you won't even want that ugly little thing
between your legs!" she said

with an evil smile.

A shudder went through me. Not only were they making me dress and act
like a girl,

now they were fooling around with my body chemistry.

"I hope spitting on me was worth it, ************," she said, stroking
my hair. "Now you'd

better get some rest, because you've got a lot of work to do."

I was ready to climb into bed, but she had one more surprise for me.

"You're going to sleep in this from now on," she said, holding a red and
white lace teddy

up against my chest.

It was a bright red satin heart that covered my chest and tapered to a
point at my groin.

The back and edges were made of lace, and two spaghetti straps went over
my shoulders.

"Where's the rest of it?" I tried to ask.

"It's made of spandex, and one size fits all. You'll look adorable in
it."

She helped me into the teddy, sliding it against my smooth skin until it
fit around me like

a glove.

"Perfect!" she said. "Now get some sleep. You'll need all your
strength tomorrow."

She left me there on the bed, bound and gagged. How was I supposed to
get any sleep

with that damn plug buzzing away inside me?

The next morning, Donna removed my gag and butt plug, and I showered and
shaved.

Yes, everywhere. The battery in the butt plug must have died, and I got
a few hours of sleep. I

looked awfully ragged, and had to do a lot of work to make myself look
pretty. And when I

finished my makeup and hair, Donna was waiting for me with a large pill
and a glass of water.

"It's time to make you into a proper young lady," she said. "I've
brought you a nice big

glass of water. Now take this estrogen pill!"

TO BE CONTINUED

Subject: REPOST:ASV11 Maid To Serve

From: an293603@anon.penet.fi

Date: 1996/08/15

ALICIA'S SUMMER VACATION

by Diabolical

CHAPTER 11: MAID TO SERVE

I swallowed the pill and gulped the water. Then she made me open my
mouth and checked to make sure I really swallowed it.

"You're lucky you spit on Sandra, and not me," she snarled. "If you did
that to me, they'd

have to sc**** what's left of you off the walls! Now get into your
uniform!"

I had to dress as Sandra had told me. I had a corset choking me, my
cock was tied

between my legs, I was perched on 5-inch heels with my legs hobbled by a
chain. My satin

uniform was the least humiliating piece of apparel I was wearing.

After breakfast, Donna was kind enough to lend me a penis gag and butt
plug. With my

hands cuffed in front of me, I was ready for work.

"No frolicking in the pool for you today," she warned me. "You're going
to work all day.

Now scrub the basement floor."

It took me an hour on my hands and knees to wash the entire basement
floor. When I got back upstairs, I was surprised at how hot it was on the
ground floor. It had been nice and

cool in the basement.

Kathy was waiting for me, wearing a towel and a white swimsuit. "I love
your shoes,

Alicia. Those ankle straps are divine."

"Thank you, Mistress Katherine. But I've already turned my ankle on
these heels three

times today."

"There, there, you poor dear," she said, patting me on the head like a
puppy. "I'd think

you were used to having things tied around your ankles by now."

"Yes, Mistress Katherine," I groaned.

"Donna said I should tell you to wash all the windows on this floor.
And then vacuum all

the rugs. They're real dirty again," she said, munching on a chocolate
chip cookie. Then she let

some crumbs fall on the carpet.

I nodded my head. "Why is it so hot in here?" I asked.

"Santa Ana winds. It's a real scorcher today," she said. "That's why
we're all out by the

pool. We turned off the air conditioning since we don't need it. Now
go about your chores,

sweetie. We'll look in on you from time to time, just to make you're
working hard."

Kathy giggled, and headed out to the pool. It was still morning, and
already I had to

wipe the sweat from my brow with my bound hands.

It was early afternoon by the time I finished all the windows, and I
felt like I was inside a

greenhouse. A hot summer day, and I was stuck inside. Sweat covered my
face, the corset

wouldn't let me breathe, and the satin minidress was plastered to my
skin. I dragged out the

upright vacuum cleaner, but I was so tired I had to sit down first. I
knew I wasn't allowed to sit

without permission, but those 5-inch heels were killing me, and I had to
rest.

That's when Donna walked in. "What are you doing, you lazy slave?" she
shouted.

I jumped to my feet. "I'm sorry, Mistress Donna. It's so hot, I had to
rest for a minute. I'll

do the vacuuming right now!"

"I should beat you for this, but I'm going to let you off easy just this
once," she said.

Then she unlocked my handcuffs, and cuffed my hands behind me. "Now get
back to work! I

had better not catch you goofing off again!"

And she left me standing on my aching feet, dead tired, and with my
hands bound

behind me. I fumbled for the vacuum cleaner switch, and sweat dripped
down into my eyes.

Now I couldn't even wipe my face, and I had to work the rest of the day
like this. I found the

switch, and the vacuum cleaner roared to life. I tried to shake the
sweat from my eyes, and I

turned an ankle. With my wrists bound behind me, I lost my balance. I
cried out as I fell to the

floor, but I doubt anyone could hear me over the whine of the vacuum
cleaner.

For a moment I lay there on the floor, trying to catch my breath. I
wondered if falling

down was against the rules? I struggled to my knees, the unyielding
corset preventing me from

bending at the waist. With the last of my strength, I used my wrists to
pull myself up against the

dining room table. Now on my feet, I had to catch my breath again, and
then I teetered over to

the vacuum cleaner, and caught the handle. Then, looking over my
shoulder, I dragged it along

behind me, being careful to pick up all the lint and crumbs on the
carpet.

By early evening I had finished all the housework, and Kathy met me as
the base of the

stairway. My sister and I made quite a contrast. She looked radiant
with her white swimsuit

showing off her new suntan. Me? Half-blinded by my own sweat, I was
completely exhausted,

and weak from hunger because I hadn't eaten all day. It was a safe bet
that I didn't smell too

good, either.

"Finished already, little sissy?" she said, gently tapping me on the
nose. "Now you have

to make all the beds upstairs. And the corners better be perfect, too."

"Yes, Mistress Katherine," I gasped, and trudged upstairs. One step at
a time, balancing

precariously on my heels, tying to keep my hobbled ankles together.
Somehow, I made it

upstairs without killing myself, and minced over to the edge of my bed.
But try as I might, my

waist couldn't bend to let me get my hands on the bed linen.

Finally I gave up, and slumped on the floor next to the bed. I sat
there a few minutes

until Kathy came upstairs to check on my progress.

"Is something the matter, ************? Didn't Donna warn you about
goofing off?"

"I can't do it," I whined. "Go ahead and beat me. I can't bend over
enough to get the

sheets."

"You are so pathetic," she said. "We wouldn't tell you to do this if it
was impossible.

Why do you think we didn't gag you today?"

I thought for a moment. It just might work. I rolled onto my knees,
and crawled to the

corner of the bed. Kneeling next to the bed, I grabbed the sheet with
my teeth, and pulled until it

was straightened out.

"Maybe you're not as dumb as I thought, Alicia," she said with a nod of
her head. "Now

hurry up and finish all three beds."

An hour later, I had crawled and tugged at sheets and blankets, tasting
more bed linen

than I ever wanted to. But I had done it. I slumped on the floor
again, this time in triumph. This

was an achievement in my life now. I was proud of making beds with my
teeth.

But Kathy had one last task for me. She led me to the bathroom, and
make me kneel in

front of the toilet.

"The toilet needs to be cleaned," she said. "The brush is over there."

It was a short brush, with only a five inch handle. But how could I get
it into the toilet

with my hands behind me?

"But I can't reach down there. Even if I sit on the toilet, I can't
reach in far enough," I

pleaded.

"There you go again," she said derisively. "You still aren't gagged are
you?"

So that was it. I took the brush handle in my mouth, and tried to lean
forward into the

toilet. Bet even on my knees, the corset wouldn't let me bend far
enough. I swiped at the toilet

from side to side, but I could barely make it reach the surface of the
toilet water.

"Hurry up," Kathy said, and she kicked me in the ass.

Startled, I screamed and dropped the brush in the toilet. I turned to
look up at her.

"Now what are you going to do?" she asked.

"Mistress Katherine, please help me," I begged.

"Oh, all right," she said. Then she lifted my legs, and aimed my whole
body at the toilet.

"Now let's see if we can't find that brush!"

"Noooo," I wailed, as she slid me toward the water. My face splashed in
it, and then she

pulled me out.

"Looks like you missed," she said. "We'll have to try again."

And so we played 'bobbing for toilet brushes' until I finally grabbed it
on my eighth or

ninth try. Then she took me by the neck, and shoved me forward,
scrubbing out the toilet.

Finally she left me alone on the tile floor, so tired that I was
light-headed. I was glad this

day was over; and at least the water had been cool.

Then she returned . "Sweetie, I know you haven't had anything to eat
all day, so I

brought you a little something," she said, and placed two bowls in front
of me.

"But Mistress Katherine, that looks like dog food," I said in dismay.

"That's right! I went to the store today and got it special, just for
you. Now dig in; it even

makes its own gravy. And when you finish it, I'll let you have the bowl
of water."

I was so tired and hungry I could have eaten anything. I stuck my face
in the dog food,

and started eating. One the one hand it tasted awful, like spoiled
meat, but most of it got all over

my face anyway. Finally she let me lap up the water. I was so parched
I thought I was going to

dehydrate. When I had finished, she sat across from me on the bathroom
floor.

"I'm tired of your attitude, and so is everyone else. If you don't
shape up, every day of

your life will be just like this, only worse," she said. "Take a good
look at yourself, sweetie. You look like shit, and you smell like shit.
Now are you going to be a good *********** or not?"

It was true. Drenched in sweat, I couldn't even stand my own smell.
There I was, bound

and helpless on my knees with dog food caked on my face. I was so tired
I could barely eat, and

my knees and feet ached. And all I had to look forward to was more of
this.

"I'll do whatever you want," I mumbled.

"Speak up," she said sharply. "What's your name?"

"My name is Alicia," I said in a clear voice. "I'm a sweet ************
girl, and I want to

look pretty so the boys will like me."

"Good," she said with a look of triumph. "But I don't want this to be a
hasty decision on

your part, so I'd like you to sleep on it."

Then she dragged me onto the carpet, and chained my ankles to the
cabinet under the

sink.

"Sweet dreams, ************," she said, and turned off the light.

Bound and exhausted in the darkness, not even my own smell could keep me
awake. I

fell fast asleep.

The next morning, I was dressed and ready for duty when Donna made me
carry a

suitcase into an empty bedroom. I could hardly lift it as I minced
along on my hobbled legs.

"There are only three more of them downstairs, Alicia," she said.

"Are these your suitcases, Mistress Donna?" I asked.

"Yes they are, slave girl. I'm moving in here to supervise you
twenty-four hours a day.

Isn't that good news?"

I could almost feel my chin hit the floor. "Yes, Mistress Donna," I
moaned. "I'm delighted. I don't deserve this."

"Since you're been a disobedient ***********, Ron felt that you needed
more discipline. First you brought boys over here at night, and then you
spit on Sandra. But I'm sure I can fix you."

"Yes, Mistress," I said. This was going to be one long summer.

TO BE CONTINUED

Subject: REPOST:ASV12 The Education Of Alicia

From: an293603@anon.penet.fi

Date: 1996/08/15

ALICIA'S SUMMER VACATION

by Diabolical

CHAPTER 12: THE EDUCATION OF ALICIA

I spent the next two weeks learning to be a slave girl by day and a
proper young lady at

night. Every day Donna found some reason or excuse to beat me. Once I
didn't fold the laundry

right. Another time I mixed up my clothes with Kathy's stuff. I
couldn't help it; the underwear all looked the same to me. She solved that
problem masterfully, by purchasing for me a dozen pair of pink panties.
All with tiers of lace, and all crotchless. But no matter what I did, I
always ended up facing the corner, hiking up my skirt, and wobbling on
unsteady heels while Donna tattooed my poor butt until I cried.

* * * * *

One day I couldn't stand any more. "I've done everything you want,
Mistress Donna," I

whined. "Won't you ever stop beating me?"

"You look like you're just going through the motions. Like you don't
enjoy being a slave

girl. And I'm going to keep beating you until you show some
enthusiasm."

"You mean I have to like being a slave in my own house?" I asked in
disbelief.

"You need an attitude adjustment, little sissy. And until you start
acting like a sweet little

slave, I'm going to whip your ass every night."

"I'll do it, Mistress Donna," I said.

Then my sister laughed. "This I gotta see," she said.

Donna turned to me.

"No, I mean it," I said. "I promise."

Fifteen minutes later, I was cheerfully dusting the furniture when Kathy
interrupted me.

She bound my wrists behind me and said, "Craig will be over any minute
to try out your new

enthusiasm. Go up to your room and kneel with your mouth open."

My eyes widened, but I just said, "Yes, Mistress Katherine."

"And you'd better tell him how much you love sucking his cock.
Enthusiasm counts, you

know!"

Soon Craig towered over me, dressed in a white T-shirt and gray sweat
pants. As baggy

as his pants were, they did not conceal a bulge. "Kathy tells me you
really like sucking cock

now. Go to it, ******!"

I knelt at his feet, waiting for him to drop his pants.

"Come on," he said. 'I don't have all day!"

"Yes, sir," I said. Now I understood. I leaned forward and took the
drawstring of his

pants with my teeth, and pulled on it. Finally it came loose, his pants
were down, and his cock

was up.

He was much more eager than last time. I had barely started licking his
balls when he

started moaning. I ran my tongue all over his cock, as I sucked it in
and out, and he came in my

mouth almost immediately. Obediently I licked it clean, and kissed the
tip of his cock.

I thought he'd be happy, but he grabbed a handful of hair and yanked me
to my feet.

"You pathetic little freak," he snarled. "I love to beat the shit out
of ******s like you. I wish I

could tell my friends how I can have my cock sucked any time I want.
But then they'd kill you,

and the party would be over. Where would I ever find another
cocksucking loser like you?"

"Please...please don't hurt me," I begged.

"What do you think about while you're doing housework all day? Do you
daydream

about your boyfriends? About how good you feel when one of them shoves
his cock up your

ass?'

"I'll do whatever you want, just let me go-"

He punched me in the stomach, knocking the wind out of me. I fell face
down at his feet,

and lay on the floor doubled over, gasping or air.

"Yeah, you can go now," he said, kicking me as he stepped over my prone
body. "I'm

sure you're got some dusting you're just dying to get back to."

The next day, my stomach still ached when Kathy got me out of bed bright
and early to

go to Jennifer's salon.

"Wake up, sunshine!" she shouted, shaking me awake. "We have to get to
the salon

before regular business hours."

I thought my hair looked nice, but what do I know about hair styles? If
my sister wanted

me to go to the salon, I figured she must have a good reason.

Turns out she had a bad reason. When we got there, Jennifer unlocked
the doors for

us, Kathy quickly tied my hands behind me.

But Jennifer was bright and cheerful as always. "I've got a surprise
for you today," she

gushed. I've got a friend in the back room waiting just for you!"

"A friend?" I said in alarm. "What kind of friend?"

"A cute ********** just like you used to be. Well, maybe he's not quite
as pretty as you,

but I'm sure you'll get along with him just fine," Jennifer said.

"N-no, I don't think I want to meet your friend-"

Then Kathy grabbed me and shoved me toward the back door. "It's payback
time for the

beating you gave me," she said, "and if you hurt that boy's feelings,
I'll hurt a lot more than just

your feelings."

Jennifer took a firm hold of me and said, "Jeremy's a nice boy. But
he's very sensitive,

so you'd better make him happy or I'll find someone a lot bigger and
meaner for you. I've told

him you're into bondage, but you're a little shy, so he'll have to meet
you more than halfway.

And if you know what's good for you, you're going to pretend to like
everything he does."

Then Kathy pushed me through the doorway, and slammed the door behind
me. Jeremy

was waiting for me, dressed in a T-shirt and bluejeans, sitting on a
loveseat.

He smiled at me, and said, "I'm Jeremy. You must be Alicia; Jennifer's
told me so much

about you."

"Hi," I said nervously. I took a good look at him; he was my age and
size. And he really

was cute, with a brown pageboy haircut that just covered his ears.

"I wish I could dress like that," he said, pointing at my pink blouse
and white skirt. "And I'd

give anything to have long curly hair like you. I just don't want
anyone to know I'm gay."

My heart sank. I was tied up, facing a k** who thought I was gay like
him. My sister had

set all this up, and I had to behave myself.

"I'm not brave enough to play it up like you, Alicia," he said, moving
in on me. "And

besides, my parents would kill me if they found out."

Before I could think of anything to say, he had me in his arms, his lips
planted on mine.

"Come on, open your mouth," he said, "I feel like I'm kissing a dead
fish."

There was no way out of this. My sister had made sure of that. And I
had to convince

this k** I was gay, too, or I'd be in big trouble when I got home. I
kissed him back, our tongues

meeting. He hugged me, and I felt a bulge in his pants rub up against
me.

"Let's not waste any more time," he said, and started unzipping his
pants.

I stood there helpless and resigned myself to giving another blow job,
when he said, "Oh,

yeah, I forgot you like being tied up. I'll help you out of your
panties."

"What-" I asked, as he sat me down, and reached under my skirt to pull
down my

panties. I came to the horrible realization that he wasn't here to have
his cock sucked. He was

going to put it somewhere else, and expected me to like it.

TO BE CONTINUED



Subject: (fwd) ASV13 Kathy's Revenge

From: PupDoesIt <thwhite@capital.net>

ALICIA'S SUMMER VACATION

by Diabolical

CHAPTER 13: KATHY'S REVENGE

"Uh, can we wait a minute?" I asked.

But he helped me bend over the loveseat, and said, "It's all right,
Alicia. Your sister told

me you're shy around new boys." Then he smeared some lubricant up my
ass. I shuddered,

and turned away from him, so he couldn't see my face.

My mind raced. What could I do? I wondered, as I felt his hot breath
on the back of my

neck. What could I say, as I felt his hands kneading my butt, spreading
me wider? But there

was no escape, and I knew it. And then he was inside me. I shivered as
he forced his way

deeper. He wasn't as big as the butt plug I was used to, but this was a
real cock sliding in and

out of me. A tear trickled down my cheek, as he rode in and out.
Finally he shot his load inside

me, and pulled out, breathing heavily. I laid there, bent over the
loveseat.

"Wow, was it good for you, too?" he asked, catching his breath.

I just groaned and fought back the tears.

He pulled me upright, and turned to face me, smiling. Seeing the look
on my face, his

smile vanished. "Alicia, I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"N-no, I'll be fine," I stammered, trying not to sniffle. Being ****d
wasn't bad enough;

now I had to pretend I liked it.

"Good!" he said. "We'll have to do this again some day."

"Yes, I'd like that," I mumbled.

He got up and left, and it took me a couple of minutes to pull myself
together. When I

went back inside, Jennifer and my sister were waiting for me.

"So now you know what's it's like to be a real girl, little ******," my
sister said. "How did

you like it?"

I just stood there, and studied the floor.

"Have you been crying, sweetie?" Jennifer asked. "Why the tears?"

"I'm all right," I said, my voice barely a whisper.

"Good!" Jennifer said. "Because Jeremy thought you look so cute in
those curls that I'm

going to give you a new hairdo for the rest of the summer."

I looked up at last, and mumbled, "What kind of hairdo?"

"I'm going to do your hair all in tight curls!"

I stared at myself in the mirror. "I don't think that would look so
good," I offered.

"Oh, don't be such a stick in the crud. You need to try new things,"
Kathy said. "New

experiences, new boyfriends, new hairstyles. Jeremy said he liked your
curls, and I think it's a

good idea too. Besides, if your hair stays in place, your mistress
won't beat you up so often."

Ah, so my new hairstyle would be functional as well as pretty, I
thought. Very practical,

that sister of mine.

"Her mistress beats her?" Jennifer asked in surprise.

"Oh, yes. At home she's a sweet ************ girl, always running to
and fro in her little

maid's outfit, cleaning here and dusting there. But her mistress is
very strict, and if Alicia has a

single hair out of place, she gets an awful beating."

"I'd love to see that! You must invite me over some time," Jennifer
said, as she led me to

the reclining chair where I had my hair shampooed.

Still bound, I had to lie back with me hair in a sink, which she quickly
filled.

"You'll have to stay in that curling lotion for at least half an hour,
so make yourself

comfortable," Jennifer said.

And so I lay there with my wrists still bound, and tried to fall asleep
with my arms

crushed underneath me. I didn't get to see what I looked like with
curlers in my hair, thank

goodness. Finally, after sitting under a hair dryer forever, they let
me take a look.

My head was covered with bright shiny brown curls. My shoulder length
hair now barely

reached my chin and the nape of my neck. I stared in amazement as I
shuffled closer to the

mirror, looking at my face framed in pretty curls. No one would ever
mistake me for a boy now. I looked even younger and prettier now.

"See, she loves it so much she's speechless!" Kathy said.

Maybe I couldn't speak, but I turned and gave my sister a withering
look.

"Oh, what's the matter, sweetie?" she asked. "You don't look happy at
all."

"Just leave me alone," I muttered.

"Now is that any way to talk to your sister, after she was thoughtful
enough to arrange

your date with Jeremy?" Jennifer asked me.

My date. That's what she called it.

"I think she needs to learn some manners," Kathy said. "Maybe Jeremy's
too good for

her. Can you set Alicia up with someone else?"

"Well, there's Bruno," Jennifer said. "But he's a big guy; he's got an
organ fit for a

horse."

I cringed.

"Sounds perfect!" Kathy said.

"No, he'd probably break this pretty little thing in half," Jennifer
said.

"Then maybe Jeremy could think of someone; he must know lots of other
fags. And you

could go out with two of them," Kathy said, turning to me. She lifted
my chin and made me face

her. "Wouldn't you to suck on one dick, while another boy rams his
stiff cock up your ass?"

It was enough to make my skin crawl. I couldn't help it; try as I
might, I burst into tears.

* * * * *

That night, I had trouble sleeping. Bound to the headboard in my flimsy
red teddy, I kept

thinking about what Jeremy had done to me. How could things get any
worse? Then I thought I

heard a sound at the door. I strained against my bonds for a moment,
and gave up. But then I

saw a shadow move in the darkness. I tried to look up, but a hand
covered my eyes, and turned

my head aside. I felt the soft touch of a girl gently climbing into the
bed and rubbing up against

me.

"Kathy, please leave me alone," I begged. "I'll do whatever you want
tomorrow."

She giggled and said, "You'll do whatever I want right now."

That wasn't my sister's voice. As her hand slid away from my eyes, and
down my cheek,

I could see the outline and features of her beautiful face, even in the
darkness. Arcadia.

"What do you want? Does anyone know you're here?" I blurted out.

"Don't worry, sweetie. I want you all to myself. When we dated, those
two boys got to

share you, and I felt left out," she said, and climbed up on my chest.
"Ooo, I love your nightie;

Kathy told me about it, but I had to see it for myself. It feels so
soft."

"Arcadia, please get off me," I gasped. I could hardly breathe with her
kneeling on me.

But she crawled over me until she positioned her groin over my face.

"You satisfied our dates, but not me. Now you will pleasure me," she
said, and then

whispered, "you don't want me to get mad at you, now do you?"

No, I didn't. Not that I had any choice, as she ground her pussy in my
face. The smell

assaulted my nostrils, but I couldn't get away. She was already wet,
and I licked up and down

every chance she gave me, gasping for air whenever I could. She grabbed
my hair and rocked

up and down on my face, finally hissing like an a****l as she came on my
face.

She leaned back, her lithe body resting on top of mine as I gasped for
air. I lay there

covered with both sweat and her pussy juice, trying to catch my breath,
praying that she'd go

away.

"Now it's your turn," she said.

"MY turn?" I asked, my voice breaking.

"Nothing makes me hotter than seeing a helpless little sissy with pubic
hair stuck in his

teeth. Especially when it's MY hair. And Sandra gave me another toy,
so now I can plug both

your holes."

And as she sat astride my waist, I saw her strapping something around
herself. At last

she got up, and I could move again. I turned to face her, and even in
the darkness, I could see a

shape projecting out from her waist. As she approached me, I recognized
it. She was wearing a

strap-on dildo, a half-dozen inches long.

"Would you be so kind as to roll over on your back, Alicia?" she asked,
putting her face

close to mine. "And then get your knees under you so I can butt-fuck
you doggie-style."

"Arcadia, please don't do this to me," I begged.

She grabbed a handful of hair, and used it to twist my head around,
making me wince. "I

won't ask you nicely again," she said. "Kathy told me how you did it
for Jeremy, so it's not like

I'm taking your cherry. Now be a good little ******, and do as I say."

I whimpered, and rolled over on my back. Then as I tucked my knees
underneath me,

she helped me out of my teddy. And then I felt her lubricating my ass,
sliding a finger in and out.

"Please be careful," I begged.

Her response was to pull my head back, and shove a penis gag in my open
mouth. "I

really don't like to do a lot of talking while I'm having sex, so I
brought along this face fucker just

in case you felt like making conversation."

Now gagged and helpless, she threw me face forward into my pillow with
my butt in the

air, and started ramming her dildo inside me. I wriggled and twisted,
but she kept pounding

away at me. At least Jeremy was getting off when he fucked me; Arcadia
just wanted to hurt me.

With my butt stretched and aching, I whimpered into the gag as she
rocked me back and forth.

As she kept driving it in and out, my whimpers turned to screams.

"Really turns you on, doesn't it?" she asked, breathing heavily.

My muffled screams went on without end. Did this crazy girl really
think she was exciting

me? Tears poured down my cheeks, and finally she gave up, and collapsed
onto the bed next to

me.

As we lay side by side covered in sweat, she turned me to face her.
"You're a bit of a

mess down there, so try not to bleed all over the sheets, will you?"

I just shook my head and cried into the gag. My butt hurt, but the
emotional pain was

worse.

"I really drilled you good, didn't I?" she asked.

Not exactly, I thought. She drilled me bad.

* * * * *

The next morning, I woke up thinking I had hit bottom. Arcadia hadn't
really hurt me, but

I looked like a girl, and I'd been used like a girl. What else could
happen? Then Kathy untied

me from my bed.

"Don't bother getting into your maid's uniform this morning," she said.
"Ron gave me a

couple of free passes to a health club that's only a short walk from
here."

"Should I dress like you?" I asked. She wore a white T-shirt and
shorts.

"Not quite. You know you can't wear pants. Not even shorts for a sissy
like you. I've got

a tennis skirt that should fit you."

I wore a T-shirt over my training bra, a short white skirt, ankle socks,
and thin white

sneakers. Sad to say, this was the most masculine attire I'd worn in
some time. Kathy noticed

that, too, so she made me wear half a dozen bracelets. I couldn't move
without the bangles and

silver bracelets rattling against each other.

"But we're just going to a health club," I said. "Why so much jewelry?"

"Because a pretty girl should make some noise when she struts around
town," she said

with a mocking grin.

"Yes, Mistress Katherine," I groaned.

"And if I ever catch you not wearing any bracelets, I'll give you a pair
of handcuffs. No

matter WHERE we are!"

I swallowed, and off we went. Once we got to the club, our passes gave
us free run of

the whole place. Swimmers went up and down a 25-meter swimming pool,
but the rest of the club was almost deserted. Mid-morning must be their
slack time, I thought, as we were alone outside a weight room.

"You can have lots of fun here checking out the hard bodies," Kathy
said.

"What did you have in mind?" I asked, my suspicion growing. I suspected
she hadn't

brought me here to work out.

"There's a lot of big strong guys here. I'm sure they'd like to get to
know a pretty little

thing like you!" she said, smiling at me as she stroked my cheek.

TO BE CONTINUED

Subject: REPOST:ASV14 Alicia Gets A Workout

From: an293603@anon.penet.fi

Date: 1996/08/15

ALICIA'S SUMMER VACATION

by Diabolical

CHAPTER 14: ALICIA GETS A WORKOUT

"No, Kathy please!" I said, with panic in my voice.

"What's the matter? Wouldn't you like to flirt with some of those big
studs we saw at the

pool?

"Nooo," I groaned looking up at her with puppy-dog eyes.

"What's wrong, sweetie? Oh, I know! I'll bet you're still thinking
about that pretty boy

Jeremy. But wouldn't you rather have a big cock rammed up your ass? Do
you really go for cute

**********s instead of big strong ones?"

"Please, no. Arcadia nearly killed me last night," I begged.

"I'm just trying to find out your type. Do you like Jeremy or would you
rather find

someone new here?"

"Shhh," I implored her. "Someone might hear you! I'll do anything you
want, but not

that."

"Anything? Are you sure?"

All I could think about was my poor tender ass. "Anything, as long as
you don't set me

up with another guy," I pleaded. When would I ever learn?

"All right," she said, and patted me on the head. "But you'd better
behave yourself and

do as I say, or I'll beat the crap out of you every day for a month!"

I nodded my head, relieved at escaping a close call, and she took me
into the weight

room.

"Let's see what we can find here," she said. "Take a look at that."

There were only a couple of people in a room of fifteen Nautilus
machines, and off in the

corner, I saw a tall girl in a gray sweatsuit with her short hair
brushed back. She stood at a bicep

machine, lifting 100-pound weights with each arm.

"She might like you," Kathy said.

"What kind of girl would be interested in me dressed like this?" I
asked, shaking my

head. It was one of those questions you really didn't want answered.

Kathy just flashed that evil smile of hers. "Look at that sweat
dripping down her chest,"

she said. "There's a dyke if ever I saw one. She could tear you limb
from limb."

"You...yo'u're not thinking of-" I stammered.

"I bet she'd like a cute little femme like you!"

My mouth open in amazement, I finally shook my head.

"We made a deal," Kathy snarled. "We agreed that you wouldn't have
anything to do

with boys here. That's a girl over there, and she's fair game for you."

But it was a big girl. A huge girl. I stared at her, and then turned
to my sister. "What do

you want me to do?" I asked, frowning.

She handed me a scarf from her purse. "Tell her you'd like to lick her
sweaty pussy, and

she can use this scarf to tie your hands."

My hands shook as I took the pink scarf. "But what if she finds out I'm
not a girl?"

"That could be embarrassing for you," my sister deadpanned. "Girls like
her really hate

boys. If she gets under your skirt looking for some chow mein, and
finds an eggroll instead...well

sweetie, she won't be happy!"

I took another look at that girl, and then back at my sister with sad
eyes.

"Move it, sissy!" she said, shoving me forward. "And make sure she ties
you up!"

I crossed the room as slowly as I could, wondering if this is how the
male black-widow

spider feels. Finally I stood before the girl at the bicep machine.
She was a teenager or maybe

a young adult, and she had to be six feet tall.

"Hi," I squeaked. "I couldn't help but admire how you work out on that
machine."

"Thanks," she grunted, and did another repetition.

"Strong girls really turn me on," I said, and then whispered, "I hope
you won't take this

the wrong way, but I'd really love to lick your sweaty pussy."

She stepped away from the machine and took a good look at me. I thought
she was

going to deck me right there, but she said, "k**, how old are you?"

"Old enough to be into bondage," I said, offering her the scarf. "I
wish you'd tie me up

and make me do it."

She thought for a moment, looked around, and then said, "Come with me."

She took me by the wrist in her iron grip, and led me down the corridor
into another

room, past a hot tub and showers, and into a sauna room. It was so hot
and steamy that I had to

stop to catch my breath. The room was empty except for several wooden
benches with towels

d****d over them.

"We'll have more privacy here," she said, barricading the door with a
heavy bench.

"What's your name?"

"Alicia," I said, noticing that my only path of escape was now
hopelessly blocked.

She took the scarf, turned me around and bound my wrists, making me
wince. I didn't know a pretty little scarf could be that tight.

"How long have you been doing this?" she asked, dropping her sweatpants
and shorts.

"Uh, long enough to be good at it," I lied, as she sat on a bench, and
pulled me to my

knees in front of her.

"Really?" she asked doubtfully. "Then show me how good you are."

For a moment I stared into the naked bush a few inches in front of my
nose. The mixed

smells of sweat and musk made me want to retch. At least Arcadia had
been clean when she

made me eat her. I wrinkled my nose, and dove in, licking here, and
probing my tongue there.

"Lower!" she rasped.

I leaned forward, and lapped up and down between her vagina and anus.
It wasn't long

before she shuddered, grabbed my face, and pulled it against her moist
pussy as a flood of juice

spilled out. I lapped up all the juice I could, as it ran down my chin.
Oh, what I must look like

now.

"Thanks," I gulped, sitting back on my haunches. "Now if you'll just
untie me-"

"No, thank YOU," she said. "Now it's your turn."

"No, no," I cried, shaking my head. 'You don't have to-"

"I'm sorry I ever doubted you, Alicia," she said, lifting my skirt, and
reaching for my

panties.

Bound and helpless, I tried to get up, but she just gathered me in her
arms.

"Oh, don't play hard to get," she said, and pulled down my panties.
"You'll like-"

And then her face darkened.

"Please don't be mad at me. I only wanted to-"

Her fist in my stomach silenced me. I crumpled at her feet, gasping for
air.

"You little bastard! I don't know what kind of games you like to play,
but you've fooled

around with the wrong person."

As I lay there doubled over from the pain in my gut, she ripped my
panties right off me.

"Please let me go," I gasped as she pulled me up to my knees. "I can
explain-"

"Explain this!" she said, stuffing the panties in my mouth. "I've heard
all I want to from

you."

I knelt before her, trying to speak as I chewed on my panties.

"So you like being tied up, huh?" she asked, as she wrapped a towel
around my face,

covering my eyes and further gagging my mouth.

I could hardly see out of one eye, and all I could do was shake my head
as she tied the

towel in place. She climbed up on a bench, and tied an electrical cord
from the light fixture to my bound wrists, pulling them up, and forcing me
to bend at the waist.

Then she stepped back to admire her handiwork. My shoulders ached as my
arms were

pulled straight upward. My skirt was around my ankles, so I couldn't
even spread my legs for

balance.

"I'm sure you're used to being tied up better than this, but I'm not
into any of that

perverted bondage stuff like you. I have to do the best I can with the
materials I have to work

with."

Still, she was doing a damn good job.

"Like this," she said. "Someone left a towel here dripping wet. How
rude! What do you

suppose we can do with a wet towel?"

I had a pretty good idea, as I whimpered into my gag. I heard her swing
the towel back

and forth through he air, and gritted my teeth. Then THWACK! as it
landed on my butt, making

me jump.

"Do you think there's something wrong with me being a lesbian?" she
asked, and

smacked my other cheek.

I screamed into the gag as tears trickled down my face.

"At least I don't dress up like a guy and try to trick people," she
shouted, and hit me twice

more.

I sobbed into my gag, and sucked on the panties, as she hit me on the
back of my thighs

a half-dozen times.

"How does that feel?" she asked, walking around me. "Now I see why you
pretend to be

a girl. You aren't too tough, are you?"

My whole body shuddered as I whimpered. I'd agree to being the most
gutless wimp in

the world if it would make her stop.

And then she grabbed my cock. "There are times I wish I had one of
these," she said.

"Maybe I'll take this one!"

I froze in place. As she squeezed my cock, I whimpered and tried to beg
for mercy.

Even so, my cock grew and hardened. Then she snapped the towel against
my erect cock. My

knees buckled, and only my bound wrists held me up. Despite the pain in
my groin, I felt like my

shoulders were getting dislocated, and struggled to regain my feet.

"I'm tired of listening to your whimpering," she snapped at me. "Would
you like to go for

a walk, you little bastard?"

I nodded my head. My body wracked with pain, anywhere we went had to be
better than

here.

She pulled up my skirt, and took the towel off my head. But she left my
wrists bound,

and they had begun to ache as she slid the bench away from the door.
She opened the door a

crack, and said, "Looks like the coast is clear."

My stomach sore, my butt and thighs burning, she shoved me outside into
the shower

area. The cool air was a welcome relief, and I tried to ask her where
we were going, but the

panties slurred my speech.

"The best thing after a sauna is to relax in the hot tub," she said,
pushing me toward it. I

shook my head, but she picked me up and sent me flying head first into
the hot water.

I shut my eyes and screamed as I flew throught air and hit the water.
My butt and thighs

were on fire, and water went up my nose, making me choke. Starved for
air, I thrashed

desperately and lifted my head above the surface. Coughing and trying
to spit the panties out, I

finally caught my breath and stood in three feet of water. I cringed,
wondering what would come

next. But I took a peek over my shoulder, and that awful bitch was
gone.

"Looks like you're in hot water, sissy," called a familiar voice.

OK, one awful bitch remained, but at least it was the one who wouldn't
kill me. My sister

leaned against the far wall, grinning at me. I opened my mouth, begging
her to take the gag out.

She grabbed the rail, and pulled me up the steps and out of the hot tub.
"This thing is really packed in good," she said, extracting the tatters
from my mouth.

"Please untie me," I begged. "My wrists are killing me."

"What happened in the sauna?" she asked. "You look like you're in a wet
T-shirt

contest. For flat-chested girls, anyway."

"I promise I'll tell you all about it when we get home," I said as she
unwrapped my wrists.

The flow of blood returned to my hands, making them hurt even more.
Just then, a club

attendant walked in. "Something the matter here?" she asked.

Kathy shrugged her shoulders. "My little sister is awfully clumsy; she
tripped and fell in

the hot tub. I just can't take her anywhere."

"Sorry about the little accident," she said, "but there's plenty of
towels you can use to dry

off."

I dried myself as best as I could, and hurried toward the lobby. I
tried to cover my chest,

my bra plainly visible. Most of all, I wanted to get out of there
before the female Godzilla showed up again.

As we walked past the counter, Kathy stopped to tell the receptionist,
"This is a wonderful

club you have here. My sister and I might get annual memberships."

"Let's GO," I implored her.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Kathy asked. "You're always
complaining about how you

have to stay home all day, and wear that maid's uniform and those high
heels. Would you rather

come here every day and meet interesting new people?"

"NO! I'd rather be a maid," I groaned, as we went outside.

"And so you shall," Kathy said, grinning at me. "I'm glad we settled
that. Now tell me

about that Amazon bitch."

So I had to tell her all the juicy details of my debauchery at the
health club.

I spent the next month as an obedient, enthusiastic ************ girl,
waiting on Kathy hand and foot when I wasn't bound hand and foot. Kathy
and Craig squabbled from time to time, but

whenever they broke up, it would only be a day or two before they
decided to kiss and make up. Or in my case, we would suck and make up..

Donna kept a close eye on me. Every morning she supervised me, paying
careful

attention as I took an estrogen pill, checking my mouth to make sure I
swallowed it. Every day

she made me stand at attention while she inspected me, poking and
prodding everywhere. She

always made sure I wore a corset, and had my penis securely tied between
my legs. Usually my

hands were cuffed in front of me, and a chain hobbled my ankles. It was
hard enough to walk on

five-inch heels; now I had to mince around to do the housework. I was
almost always gagged;

normally a penis gag would do, so I could enjoy the feel of a cock in my
mouth. But sometimes I

misbehaved, and I'd end up chewing on a ball gag all day.

I always wore a collar with a leash attached. The leash came in handy
when Kathy or

Donna wanted my attention. If I misbehaved somehow, they might make me
wear the stiff

discipline collar, but it detracted from my appearance. It covered up
the pretty white lace

chokers they always made me wear. They preferred to use butt plugs when
they needed to

teach me a lesson. Trying to hobble around with a butt plug shifting
inside me was the most

trouble, but sleeping with one wasn't much fun either. At night I was
so tired, they just chained

me to the bed in my nightie. If I went to bed gagged and plugged, I
knew I'd been a very bad girl.

At least they didn't beat me very often any more, now that I had adopted
the proper slave

girl attitude, and I was allowed to eat dinner after I had served
everyone else. I pretended to

accept it all with good cheer, counting the days to the end of summer.
But finally my 13th

birthday approached, which meant the summer was almost over. Donna and
Sandra were

discussing my outfit for birthday party when Kathy came in. I stood in
my maid's uniform with

head bowed in subservience. My hands weren't cuffed, but I kept them
clasped in front of me

anyway.

"Kathy, Donna and I are having our friends over for Alicia's birthday
party. And this is a

grown-up party, so I'm afraid you won't be able to play with her
tomorrow night."

"But I live here. Can't I come to the party too?"

"We're going to tape the party so you can see it later," Donna said.

I looked up in fright. Whatever they had planned for me was going to be
on videotape?

"I'll work the camcorder for you," Kathy said. "I'm promise I'll stay
out of the way."

Donna thought for a moment. "All right," she said, and turned to me.
"You don't mind

having your sister at your birthday party, do you, little sissy?"

I gulped and shook my head. Then Donna and Kathy left me alone with
Sandra.

"Actually we have another surprise in store for you today," she said,
giving me her evil

smile.

I didn't want to know what that might be. But then the doorbell rang. I
looked around to

see if Donna or Kathy were still nearby.

"Don't you think you should answer the door?" Sandra asked.

I looked around helplessly. I didn't want anyone else to see me dressed
up in this

ridiculous outfit. How in the world was I going to explain the leash
and collar around my neck?

But Sandra wasn't going to answer the door. She gave me a stern look,
and pointed at the door.

Off I went like a good little servant to humiliate myself in front of
whoever decided to visit.

I opened the door to find Jennifer. And next to her was Jeremy. Oh,
happy day.

"Surprise!" Jennifer said cheerily. We won't be able to make it to your
birthday party

tomorrow, so Kathy asked us to come over today."

"How thoughtful of you," I lied.

"Wow, you look great, Alicia," Jeremy said, gaping at me. "I only half
believed that you

liked being a slave, but now I can see for myself."

"Won't you please come in?" I said, showing off my outfit, so I could
shut this door before

anyone else saw me.

"Guess what I'm going to give you for our birthday?" Jeremy asked,
practically drooling

at the sight of me.

"Oh, I couldn't even guess," I said. And I didn't want to, either.

TO BE CONTINUED

Subject: REPOST:ASV15 It's Better To Give Than Receive

From: an293603@anon.penet.fi

Date: 1996/08/15

ALICIA'S SUMMER VACATION

by Diabolical

CHAPTER 15: IT'S BETTER TO GIVE THAN RECEIVE

"Alicia, why don't you go play with Jeremy upstairs in your room?"
Sandra said. "And be

sure to share your toys with him."

She didn't have to ask twice. Jeremy grabbed my leash, and we were off.


A minute later, Jeremy had me on all fours on my bedroom floor. "I've
missed you

something awful, Alicia. I don't know anyone else who's as submissive
as you. No one else

likes to play these games."

"That's me, little miss submissive," I offered, as he stuck his hands
inside my panties.

"I'm glad you like being a girl, because I have to be the one on top. I
guess I'm just not

as secure as you are."

Then he lubricated me, and I almost jumped. "Are you all right, honey?"
he asked. The

concern in his voice was plain.

I hesitated for a moment. "Yes, Jeremy," was all I could say.

"Oh gee, I almost forgot how you like being in bondage. Would you feel
more comfortable if I tied you up?"

"No!" I said, almost shouting. "I mean I'm fine the way I am."

And then he started in, sliding his cock in and out, grinding against my
ass. Over and

over, he kept thrusting into me, his groans getting louder and louder.

I wanted to get up and run away. So far away that no one would ever
find me. But no, I

had to stay here bent over, and let him fuck me to his heart's content.
And then I had to pretend

it was good for me, too. Again and again, his body slammed up against
my ass, and finally he

came inside me.

Afterward we sat on the carpet and cuddled together, with him telling me
how much he

had missed me.

"I didn't even get the chance to talk to you the day we met at
Jennifer's place. I'm dying

to find out more about you."

"Oh, there really isn't much to tell," I mumbled.

"But how long have you been pretending to be a girl? And when did you
know you

wanted to be a girl?" he asked, his innocent eyes studying me.

"Uh, it happened real suddenly, as a matter of fact. This summer, in
fact."

"Wow, I can't wait to get to know you better," he said. "I think you're
really cute." And

then he took me in his arms.

Here we go again, I thought. His mouth was wide open as he kissed me,
his tongue

probing against mine. There was no point in resisting; it would only
make things worse.

Besides, he was the only person I knew who didn't enjoy beating me up.
It wasn't fair - why

does the only person sexually attracted to me have to be a boy? I
embraced him, and kissed

him back. Despite my aching butt, I pretended to enjoy myself as he
slobbered all over me.

After enjoying me for a few more minutes, he said, "Alicia, I'd like you
to kiss me again,"

and then pointed to his cock, which was now erect again.

Didn't he know where that cock had been? Even as it grew, I could see
little flecks of

shit on it.

"Um, couldn't you wash it off, first?"

"Sorry, Alicia, there isn't time," he said, and pulled my head down
toward it.

I resigned myself to my fate. I stroked his swollen balls, wrinkled my
nose, and started

licking the head of his cock. It tasted as awful as I expected, but
after sliding him in and out only

a few times, he came in my mouth. And on my chin. And on my neck.

Then he sat back against the bed. "Now you can wash up," he said. "I'd
better be going

soon anyway."

I hurried to the bathroom, and cleaned myself up, taking care to repair
my lipstick and fix

my makeup. By the time I got back to the bedroom, he had dressed and
was ready to leave.

"I'm sorry I had you clean off my cock like that, Alicia," he said. "I
know that was

thoughtless of me, but I just couldn't wait. But next time I promise
I'll let you suck my cock first."

"Gee, thanks. I can hardly wait," I replied.

Downstairs, I curtsied as our two guests departed. Only after Jeremy
and Jennifer left

did Sandra see my long face.

"What's the matter, Alicia? Didn't you have a good time? Jeremy was so
happy to see

you!" she said.

"The matter is he's a boy," I grumbled.

"Well, don't you worry. There'll be plenty of girls at your birthday
party," she said, patting

me on the shoulders. "And tomorrow you'll learn about pleasure and
pain; how they're different,

and how they're the same."

Helplessly, I looked up at her; the evil grin on her face made me
shiver.

* * * * *

But it was Donna who spent the next day preparing me for my birthday
party. First

teaching me to be properly respectful of the guests, and then dressing
me.

By 8PM, I stood with my back against a wall in the foyer. My arms
stretched overhead,

and my padded wrist cuffs attached to a hook above my head. Looking up,
I could only catch a

glimpse of my shiny red nails, because the stiff leather collar
immobilized my neck. My seethrough white dress barely covered my padded
bra and the champagne-colored corset, whose

boning was crushing me. The dress was slit to the waist, and reached
only to my crotch.

For the evening, a pair of black straps with silver studs separated my
cock and balls,

displaying them like the crown jewels through the flimsy dress. Garters
held up my fishnet

stockings, and tugged against my thighs. As I waited helplessly, I
swayed to and fro on five-inch

stiletto heels. The plug up my ass seemed to shift whenever I moved.
Donna had practically

drenched me in perfume, and I found the sweet scent overpowering.

My lipstick matched my nails, but worst of all was my makeup. Once
Donna got through

with me, it made me nostalgic for Sandra's tender attention. I had way
too much frosted lipstick,

more blush on my cheeks than most circus clowns, and if I wore any more
mascara I think panda

bears would want to mate with me. And BLUE eye shadow; even hookers
don't wear blue eye

shadow any more. At least my hair was almost straight now; only a few
curly tendrils framed my

face, and the rest of my hair hung down almost to my fake breasts. Even
so, the red heartshaped charms which adorned my ears dangled in plain
sight.

"Our first guests just drove up," Donna said. "And now for the final
touch." She slid a

black leather blindfold over my eyes. The soft padding blocked out all
the light, plunging me into darkness. I heard the door open, and my heart
quickened. I didn't know who was coming in, and I could hardly breathe in
this corset.

TO BE CONTINUED

Subject: REPOST:ASV16 Party Girl

From: an293603@anon.penet.fi

Date: 1996/08/15

ALICIA'S SUMMER VACATION

by Diabolical



CHAPTER 16: PARTY GIRL

"Alicia, there is a lady to your right," Donna said.

With that damn collar around my neck, I had to turn my whole torso to
the right, and

smiled. "It's nice to meet you, madam," I said.

"And there is a gentleman in front of you," Donna said.

Like a good ************ I faced forward and said, "It's nice to meet
you, sir."

The moment I finished speaking, my head snapped to the side, my cheek on
fire. I had

forgotten to smile at the gentleman facing me, and the slap that made my
ears ring was a gentle

reminder.

"My apologies," Donna said, "he won't forget to smile again, I assure
you."

She was right. After that I would smile every time I thought I heard
anyone come near

me.

"You meant this slave is really a boy?" I heard a woman say.

"Technically, that's correct," Donna said. And then I felt my dress
being lifted. I gasped

as she grabbed my cock, and pulled me away from the wall to display it.
"This pretty ************

is biologically still a boy, but that will make the evening all the more
fun."

I heard them all laugh, and then their voices trailed off as they left
me. And so I greeted

a dozen guests, smiling sweetly for each new arrival, even as I wondered
who these people

were, and what they would do to me before the evening was out. Sandra
was the last to arrive,

and someone announced that dinner was served. Not for me, of course.

"You don't really want to wear those clothes, do you sissy?" Sandra
asked me.

I didn't know how to answer. I smiled nervously. "Whatever you want,
Mistress Sandra."

What she wanted was to strip me. To see the birthday girl in her
birthday suit. Still

blindfolded, I felt her remove my dress, corset (thank God) and bra.
She unhooked my wrists

and bound them behind me. Then she made me hobble on those awful heels,
bumping into

furniture as I went. Soon she took hold of me, forced me down first to
my knees, and then flat on

my face. Quickly she hogtied me, and called for one of the men to help
her.

A moment later, a pair of strong arms lifted me into the air. I gasped
as he swung me

around, but Donna had warned me about speaking out of turn. He placed
me gently on a table,

and I lay there helpless until I felt Sandra stroking my hair.

"I'm sorry you don't get anything to eat tonight, but I did bring you
this to chew on."

And I felt a ball gag pressed against my lips. Like a baby bird, I
popped my mouth open,

and she stuck it in.

"Look at this," she called out. "Doesn't the ****** look like a little
pink piglet with a red

apple in his mouth?"

The room erupted in laughter, and all I could do was gnaw on the ball
gag.

As I lay there hogtied, I heard the sounds of laughter and glasses being
raised. An hour

must have passed, and my jaw ached from the ball gag, but I heard them
start talking about me.

There were lots of conversations all jumbled together, but they seemed
to be turning their

attention to me.

Finally, Sandra addressed me, and undid my hogtie. She got me to my
feet, and folded

my arms behind me. With my wrists tied together, she started wrenching
them upwards.

"I've got your wrists tied to your collar, sweetie, and I want to make
sure it's good and

tight so you don't move."

To my relief she took the gag out, and chained my ankle cuffs together.
While I worked

my jaw to get the stiffness out, she tied my hair back.

"You've got a new pony tail now, and I'm attaching it to a ceiling hook.
So don't think

about running off," she said, and patted my cheek.

I felt a tug on my hair, and whatever was binding my hair went taut. I
tried to get better

balance, and found that the chain connecting my ankles couldn't be more
than six inches long.

"Are you going somewhere, Alicia?" she asked me.

"No, Mistress Sandra," I mumbled.

"Good, because you'd miss all the fun."

I felt her reach behind me, and then my plug started vibrating. I
stumbled and when I

turned a heel, only my pony tail supported my weight. I hissed as I
gritted my teeth, and quickly

got my feet under me again. Again the sound of laughter.

"I don't recommend hanging by that lovely hair of yours," Sandra said.
"I want you to

enjoy yourself tonight. But you almost cried out, so I'd better gag you
again."

My whole body went limp. Not that ball gag again.

But Sandra seemed to know what I was thinking. "I think you've had your
fill of that ball

gag, though. You much prefer having a cock in your mouth anyway, don't
you?"

I felt the tip of a penis gag against my lips. "Yes, Mistress San-" I
said before she

shoved it in my mouth. Then I shuddered as I felt strips of leather
brush against my chest.

"This is a cat-o-nine-tails," she said. "You'll learn to love it."

She flicked it against my chest. At first I barely felt it. Then it
tickled me. Then she

started swinging it harder. But I was used to it now. If she'd hit me
like this at first, I don't know if I could have taken it.

She slapped me across the chest hard now. I gasped and struggled
against my bonds.

Suddenly another whip hit my back. And another my thigh. And my chest
again at the same

time. I had to tap dance on my spike heels to stay upright. The
buzzing of my vibrator, mixed

with the pain of the whips was driving me mad. Then a whip landed on my
half-erect cock, jump-starting my erection. I twisted and strained, blind
and aroused as the blows landed all over my body.

"Look at his little cock, he's getting stronger," I heard Sandra shout,
as though she were

far away.

Lost in my own little world, I felt my cock stand straight up, and I was
past the point of no

return. I felt myself spurting one pulse of cum after another as my
whole body shook and

shuddered. The whipping stopped, and I sucked on the penis gag, trying
to catch my breath.

"I told you this would be fun, didn't I?" Sandra asked, caressing my
face.

I tried to nod my head, and another woman said, "Don't bother the little
****** now.

Can't you see he's busy sucking that fake cock?"

Sandra laughed and said to me, "You won't have to make do with a fake
cock tonight.

We've brought plenty of them for you to try on."

By now I had enough breath back to moan in despair.

"You've had your pleasure, Alicia, and now it's time to pay the
piper...with pain!" she said

with glee.

Getting whipped didn't qualify as pain? I wondered.

"As you know, Alicia is a teenager now. This is her thirteenth
birthday, and she will now

receive thirteen whacks on her bottom from each member of the opposite
sex at the party," she

said. After some discussion, Sandra grudgingly admitted that I was a
boy, and therefore it was

the girls who would paddle me.

"It's just as well," she said, "because that means I get to beat you
again."

Without any further warning I felt a leather strap hit my bottom. My
butt plug still buzzing

away, they made me tap dance on my spikes as I strained and heaved. But
there was nowhere

for me to go. By the time the first woman was through with me, I was
sobbing through my gag.

Then a woman took hold of me, and my blindfold came off. I blinked and
tried to adjust

to the light. Through my tears I looked up and saw Sandra holding me.

"I think it'll be more fun if we can see you cry," she said. "So we'll
leave the blindfold

off."

The blindfold came off, and I blinked at the bright lights, sniffling
and trying not to cry as I

looked around. Then I kept blinking because I couldn't believe what I
saw. A half dozen young

men and the same number of women surrounded me. I stared wide-eyed at
the weirdest people

I ever saw. The women had tattoos, and the guys wore makeup.

Men wearing mesh shirts, high heels, makeup and earrings. I wouldn't be
caught dead

in public looking like that. And the women: Sandra was a model of
decorum compared to her

friends.

In her sensible black rubber minidress, she was the most normal-looking
person in the

room. A couple of the women wore leather thongs and see-through
blouses, or lingerie. Most of

the women wore bustiers or teddies, and nothing else. And right there
in front was Kathy pointing a camcorder at me with a big smile on her face.
And they went on to beat my butt and upper thighs, with Kathy recording for
posterity every tear, every sob, and every twist of my writhing, straining
body.

Finally it was over, and I slumped forward against my leather collar.

"Dry those tears, sweetie, or you'll ruin your makeup," Sandra said, and
then asked,

"Now that the girls are done with you, don't you think the guys are
entitled to have some fun?"

I just whimpered and squeezed my eyes shut, fresh tears spilling down my
cheeks.

"Oh don't you worry, little ******, they're not going to hit you," she
said. "They're going

to give you some well deserved pleasure. So far you've had to make do
with sucking **********s.

Now you're going to try some men on for size!"

And they could hardly wait. If those guys even had a pulse, they'd be
itching to get their

hands on me by now. Sandra took the gag out, and unhooked my hair from
the ceiling.

"But that reminds me," she said, pointing at the floor. "You made a
mess over here when

you had your little accident earlier. Be a dear and clean that up for
me, will you?"

I looked at the splotches of my cum on the carpet. Bound and hobbled, I
minced over

there, and slipped awkwardly to my knees.

"Let me help you, silly," Sandra said, and shoved my face over the
largest white blob.

"Kathy, get a close up of this."

As my sister giggled and knelt next to me, I had to make a face from the
taste of the salty

goo as I lapped it up.

"And smile for the camera when you lick up the rest of it," Sandra said.

My stomach was turning and I wanted to cry again as I heard the camera
whirring. I

licked up the next dot of cum, turned to the camera, and smiled gamely
like the beaten slave I

was.

When I had licked up the last drop, Sandra said, "That was just the
appetizer. Now

you're going to get the main course."

She dragged me over to a hook in the floor, made me kneel, and chained
my crotch

strap to it. "What do you think?" she asked one of the men. "Isn't
this little slut your wet dream?"

A big strong guy with a shock of black hair planted a chair in front of
me. He dropped his

pants and sat down, revealing seven inches of erection.

"Love your makeup," the guy said, and then asked Sandra. "Are you sure
the little ******

can handle this?"

"No problem," she said, laughing. "Alicia can suck the chrome off a
trailer hitch!"

The whole room roared with laughter, Kathy most of all, but I couldn't
do a thing about it.

On my knees, chained to the floor, my spiked heels tied together, and my
arms locked behind me

to a heavy collar, I wasn't going anywhere. No one had to give me any
instructions. Kathy sat

beside me, hardly able to keep a straight face, as I leaned forward
toward a bulging reddishpurple mass of meat.

All six guys had me, and none of them needed any help getting it up.
But all of them

made me lick their cocks clean. I didn't know I could drink so much cum
without throwing up. I

didn't get it all, of course, and more and more landed on my face. I
must have looked like a baby

with food all over his face. Except it wasn't food. My makeup was
beyond repair, but the girls

were nice enough to freshen up my lipstick after every blow job. Sandra
kept telling me how

there's something about having a bright red pair of lips wrapped around
your cock that guys

really go for. And Kathy was there to record every moment.

Finally the evening was over, and I lay slumped on the floor, still
bound. All the guests

had gone, and Kathy turned off my butt plug.

"This was a neat party," she said. "I can't wait to show this tape to
Arcadia!"

* * * * *

The next day Craig came over to watch the tape of my birthday party with
Kathy. I had to

kneel before him on the living room carpet, my wrists and ankles tightly
bound with white cotton

rope to match my maid's apron and uniform. He didn't last through five
minutes of the video

before he unzipped his pants, and dragged my face into his crotch.
Moments later, he spurted

cum all over my face, still watching the video.

Twenty minutes later, he had me again with similar results.

"It's too bad we have to use the camcorder to play back the video,"
Kathy told me. "I'd

love to be taping you right now."

Craig relaxed, having left me with two loads of cum on my face and hair,
and contented

himself with watching the rest of the video. When it ended, and he got
up to leave, Arcadia

showed up. Just what I needed. The ropes were biting into my wrists
and ankles, and I had

Craig's sperm all over my face. As I knelt with my head bowed, Craig
kicked me in the side to

get my attention.

"Hey sissy, you're in the company of two attractive ladies now. Which
one do you think

is prettier?"

"What?" I gasped, wincing from the pain in my side.

"Look, ******, I know you're not interested in girls, but which one is
prettier?"

I looked up to see my sister and Arcadia standing over me while Craig
let himself out.

With all the pain and humiliation they had caused me, this was the last
thing I wanted to think

about. Arcadia had that sweet girl-next-door look, while Kathy looked
older, and had a more

sophisticated beauty.

As they waited, Kathy picked up a gnarled cane, and said, "An excellent
question.

We're waiting for your answer."

I swallowed, and looked at Arcadia. I was horrified to see that she was
idly twirling a

whip around her forearm. "Yes, Alicia, we're getting tired of waiting.
Which one of us do you

think is prettier?"

I gasped, and looked from the face of one girl to the other. Both were
beautiful, but

neither one looked very happy. And no matter which one I chose, the
other one was going to be

disappointed. And me? Somehow, I think I'm going to be a lot more than
just disappointed. It

wasn't a question of beauty any more. I had to decide which one would
be less likely to kill me.

"We'll make it easy for you," Kathy said. "You don't even have to say a
word. Just kiss the feet of the girl you think is pretty."

And the two of them stood over me. Kathy grabbed my hair, and shoved me
face down,

flat on my stomach. Finally I decided that Kathy might torment me, but
wouldn't seriously injure

me. With Arcadia I wasn't sure. I never knew what she might do to me,
and I didn't expect Kathy to leap to my defense.

"You're both very pretty, but I can only pick one," I said, turned my
head to the left, and

kissed Arcadia's shoe. Immediately, she pulled me up to my knees,
smiled, and patted me on

the head. But my sister did not seem as happy. The veins bulging in
her neck were probably a

good indication that she was not pleased with my decision.

"I think I'd better leave you two alone now," Arcadia said. "I'll come
back and watch the

video of the birthday party later." She tousled my hair and left.

That left just the two of us. With me bound and helpless at my sister's
feet.

TO BE CONTINUED

Subject: REPOST:ASV17 Summer's End

From: an293603@anon.penet.fi

Date: 1996/08/15

ALICIA'S SUMMER VACATION

by Diabolical

CHAPTER 17: SUMMER'S END

When I'm dressed up, I can pass for a girl without any trouble. My
corset and padding

give me a nice shapely figure. I wear earrings and jewelry and I'm
learning to walk and carry

myself like a girl. My wardrobe of frilly clothes is growing, as is my
hair - almost as long and soft as my sister's. My face is prettier than
most girls, and I'm very good at making myself up now. My cock is almost
always tied between my legs to avoid any telltale bulge. And I don't even
want to think about what those estrogen pills are doing to me. But no
matter how much I look like a girl, that doesn't mean I understand them.

A few months ago (back when I still looked like a boy), if anyone told
me that another

boy was better looking than me, it wouldn't have mattered to me.
Apparently, girls take their

looks a lot more seriously than boys. I found that out after Arcadia
left. I had no idea that my

opinion mattered to Kathy so much; but she demonstrated that to me at
great length.

I tried to tell her she was pretty, and that I was afraid of what
Arcadia might do to me, but

she slapped me across the face to silence me.

"Another word out of you, and I'll mess up that pretty face of yours for
good," she snarled

at me.

I didn't say another word. My cheek burning, I knelt silently as she
hogtied me.

Thankfully, she didn't tie me very tightly. There was plenty of slack
in the ropes, so I figured she

wasn't really mad at me. Then she picked up the wooden cane! Face
down, I tried to turn my

head to follow her as she walked around, my vision riveted on the cane.

"Don't worry, you little bastard. I'm not going to hit you with this,"
she said, kneeling

beside me with her face close to mine. "Unless you want me to."

I let out a sigh of relief. Why would I ever want to get hit with that
thing? Then she

slipped the cane under the rope binding my ankles and wrists, and
hoisted it. My shoulders ached as my arms were forced upward. But the
worst was yet to come; she started twisting the

rope.

The ropes tightened around my wrists and ankles as she twirled the cane.
"How does

that feel, you little ingrate?" she asked. "Oh, I forgot! You're not
allowed to speak, are you?"

I gritted my teeth as the ropes bit my wrists. After a couple more
twists I had to cry out.

"Mistress Katherine, please stop!" I begged. "You'll leave marks on my
wrists, and school starts

next week."

"Would that embarrass you, little ******?" she sneered at me. "Don't
you want the other

k**s to know what you are?" And she twisted the cane again.

"No!" I groaned.

"But honesty is the best policy, sweetie. Don't you want everyone to
know you're a

kinky, perverted, cocksucking slut?"

"No," I begged as I struggled against the ropes. "Please untie me
before I get bruised."

"You're so talkative, Alicia. I thought you knew better than that," she
said, giving the

cane another twist. "Do I have to gag you?"

Tears trickling down my face, I begged her to let me go. Finally she
relaxed the tension

on the ropes a bit, giving me a chance to breathe.

"I'll give you a choice," she said. "I can use this cane to twist you
up like a pretzel, or I

can use it to beat your ass. Which would you prefer?"

By now I was covered with sweat, my heart pounding. I didn't have time
to think clearly,

but it didn't matter. I didn't have a choice, and she knew it. "You
can use the cane to beat me," I

whispered.

"Are you sure, sweetie?" she asked. "If you are, then ask me nicely. I
don't want there

to be any misunderstanding when I whip your ass."

"Please beat me, Mistress Katherine," I moaned.

* * * * *

I lay in bed that night face down in my wrist and ankle cuffs. Kathy
had beaten my upper

thighs and butt so badly that I had cried for hours. Even now the pain
kept me awake. But at

least she hadn't left any marks on me. At least none that would show.
My butt would wear the

imprint of her cane for the next few days. But I wouldn't have to go to
school with big red welts

on my wrists.

All I had to do was survive another week, and the summer would be over.
And surely my

birthday party was the worst of it. From here on it would be all
downhill, I hoped. But then the

door opened. I tried to turn, to look over my shoulder. And then she
was on me, her hair spilling

over my shoulders and the back of my neck. A pair of hands unbuckled my
gag, and I spit it out.

What did my sister want now?

She grabbed my shoulders, and turned me over. I winced as my sore butt
hit the sheets.

"Did you miss me?" she whispered.

"Arcadia!" I gasped, recognizing her. She wore only a T-shirt and
shorts. "Does anyone

know you're here?"

"My mom said I could sleep over. After all, why should she mind if I
stay over with the

two girls next door?"

"No reason at all," I said, my voice cracking, as she climbed on top of
me. My poor butt

and thighs burned, as I felt Arcadia's full weight resting on my chest.
What else could happen to

me today?

"You said I was beautiful. Did you really mean that?" she asked,
tracing my cheek with

her finger.

I nodded my head.

"I'll bet Kathy was a little upset over that," she said.

"Maybe more than a little," I agreed.

"Then you deserve a reward, don't you think? I mean if you got beat up
just because

you said I was prettier than your sister, the least I could do is make
it up to you."

Oh, no! Heaven only knows what she had in mind. "No, please. I
wouldn't think of it.

You don' t need to do anything to me. I mean FOR me. I'm fine here,
really. I'll just go to sleep

now-"

"I don't think so," she whispered, squeezing my mouth shut.

I gazed up at her; in the dim light she was even more beautiful. If
only she weren't crazy.

She let go of me, and got on her hands and knees; then she lay on top of
me, face to face. Her

warm body rested on top of mine, her breasts pressing against my chest,
her face nuzzling

against mine; this was a heck of a time to be bound and helpless. The
scent of her, the feel of

her soft but firm body against mine; she could tease and torment me in
ways Kathy never could.

Finally I tried to speak, but she smothered my mouth with a wet kiss.
And then another,

with her tongue probing my mouth. My instincts took over. I kissed her
again, and I felt my cock harden. She must have felt it too, because even
as we kissed, she reached down and grabbed hold of my penis.

Suddenly, I came back to reality, and she had my full attention. Taking
firm hold of my

cock has a way of doing that to me.

"Does it still work?" she asked. "You've been a girl for so long now.
Those pills you've

been taking..."

"It's hard, isn't it?" I said, calling on the last remnants of my male
pride.

"Kathy showed me the video of your party tonight. Wimps like you really
turn me on, you

know that?" she cooed. "I dream about having a helpless little runt in
my power."

I wanted to scream for help, but I was afraid even to speak. She could
choke me before

I got my mouth open. But then she kissed me again, and I felt her
breasts against me. Her

nipples were as hard as erasers! This was getting out of hand; she
bounced up and down on

me, and then flung her shorts across the room!

"What...what?" I stammered.

She didn't answer, and burrowed her face past my chin, across my neck.
My penis was

rock hard now; I was as aroused as I was scared.

"Arcadia, what are you-" I started to say, and then winced in pain. She
had bitten the

side of my neck.

"Shut up!" she rasped, tightening her grip on my penis. I lay there
afraid to move, and

she placed my cock against her groin. I swallowed deeply; whatever she
wanted to do, I could

only go along for the ride. Her pussy was so wet that I slid inside
her, and she ground her hips

against me.

This wasn't how I hoped to lose my virginity, bound and helpless with a
girl on top of me.

But it was out of my hands now, as she wrapped her legs around me. I
grabbed the straps that

bound my wrists, and strained against them. As I came inside her, she
sank her teeth into my

shoulder. Crying out from pain and passion, I drowned out her grunts as
I shot one load after

another into her.

Finally she collapsed on top of me, both of us covered in sweat. "Not
bad," she said, as

she admired the teeth marks on my shoulder. "You may have some use
after all."

"Thanks," I gasped. I was still alive. Even so, I wasn't sure I wanted
to take my chances

with her again.

* * * * *

But the next day, things were back to normal. Kathy made me wear
Arcadia's pink dress,

and dragged me down to the salon.

"What would you like me to do with her?" Jennifer asked my sister.

"Sweetie, I think you'd look nice with bangs, don't you?" Kathy asked.

"I...I don't know-" I started to say, and Kathy pulled out a black magic
marker.

"Since you think Arcadia's prettier than me, I figure it must be her
hairstyle that you like

so much. Now hold still," she said, and started writing on my forehead.

A few seconds later she was done. She stood back to admire her
handiwork, and

Jennifer giggled. I turned to look at myself in the mirror. There were
three two-inch high letters

on my forehead. Even backwards in the mirror, I could read it in a
glance. My forehead said

"FAG" in great big black letters.

"Now about that new hairstyle of yours?" Jennifer asked.

"Please make my hair cover this," I begged.

And so Jennifer cut my hair in straight bangs. My hair was so long that
no one would

ever mistake me for a boy, no matter what clothes I wore. Now all I had
to do was make it home

alive so I could wash my forehead. All it would take was one gust of
wind for me to proclaim my sexual orientation to the world. But even as I
walked home, with my sister exhorting me to toss my hair in the breeze, I
took comfort that it was the end of August, and the worst summer of my life
was nearly over.

When we got home, Kathy made me show off my forehead for Ron.

"I guess it pays to advertise," he said with a laugh. "Are you the
poster fag for Gay Pride

Month?"

"May I please wash this off, Mistress Katherine?" I asked.

"You can try, ******, but that's an indelible marker. And if you're a
bad ***********, I'll have

that tattooed on your forehead."

"Yes, Mistress," I said. I turned to leave, but Ron pointed at two
large boxes on the living

room floor.

"Wait a minute. Ladies, I've enrolled both of you in a private school.
The same one Craig and Arcadia attend. These are your school uniforms."

I opened the first box and found pink blazers, and red and white plaid
skirts. "This one

must be yours," I said to Kathy, and bent over the other box.

She just grinned and shook her head. I didn't understand until I opened
the other box

and found more skirts and blazers.

"That one WAS yours, sweetie," she said, rubbing my back.

"You can't mean..." I said, as I felt all the blood drain from my face.

"I have enrolled Kathy and Alicia Peterson in school," Ron said.
"Explain it to her,

Kathy."

As Ron left, I stood dumbfounded, staring at a plaid skirt.

"I can't," I said. "I can't go to school as a girl. I thought this was
just for the summer."

"And let that cute haircut go to waste after only a few days?" she
asked, stroking my hair.

"No, I want the boys at school to think you're pretty."

"They'll kill me, and you know it," I groaned.

"Not if they think you're a pretty girl. Why do you think Donna went to
all the trouble of

teaching you how to act like a proper young lady? And if you keep
taking those estrogen pills,

you might grow a little pair of breasts soon. See, we've done a lot of
planning for this."

"You..you mean you were going to do this to me all along?"

"I always wanted a little sister," she said with a smile. "And now my
little sister is going

to make some new friends at school. Craig has a lot of friends who'd
love to meet you."

"Noooo," I moaned.

"Yeees," she said, mocking me. "And don't forget about your little
boyfriend Jeremy.

We'll have to have him come over and visit; he really got a kick out of
you in your French maid

outfit."

"No, please-"

"Of course, you have to wear the school uniform, but after school you'll
come straight

home and change into your maid's uniform to do all the cooking and
cleaning. Donna will see to

that."

"I can't do this, it's too much," I said, starting to cry.

"Between school and being my slave girl, I'm afraid you won't have much
time for a

social life, but I imagine Arcadia will be coming over all the time, and
you know how much Craig loves to see you."

I put my head in my hands and whimpered, tears running down my cheeks,
and she took

me in her arms.

"There, there, little s*s. Arcadia gave you one last night as a boy.
Now why don't you try

on that uniform for me?" she said, smoothing out my bangs. "I think
it'll match your red ball gag,

and you'll look so cute once you're hogtied in our new school colors."

THE END

And so Alicia's summer vacation ended not just with her hair in bangs,
but also

whimpering. OK, it's not much of a literary allusion. Our story ends
with a feminized 13-year-old boy facing the prospect of pretending to be a
proper young lady at school,

while he lives as a slave girl at home. It sounds like the year ahead
promises even more

adventures for Alicia.

But that, dear reader, is another story. Comments, high praise, and
even criticism are

welcome. My apologies for the poor formatting of the text - when I cut
and paste, I get lots of

carriage returns where I don't want them. But, if your response is
favorable, I'll write a sequel.

Next summer. One story a year is plenty for me. Those of you who have
been reading a.s.s for

awhile may remember last year's effort - Johnny's Punishment. The
feedback I received after

that story led to this one. I hope you have all enjoyed it.

Regards,

Diabolical























From user23@primenet.com Thu Feb 06 16:40:04 1997
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.tg
Subject: Lisa's TG Library: "A Boy's Bra Training and Discipline"
From: user23@primenet.com (Lisa Blades)
Date: 6 Feb 1997 14:40:04 -0700

BBT.TXT

A Boy's Bra Training And Discipline

by Marlissa



How did it happen? Gosh, it was four years ago. Well I could start by
saying that I knew it would be him. As soon as he walked into my summer
school class, I just knew he would be the one. Dino Fazio thought he
was God's gift to women, including me, his remedial English teacher.
Not that he was offering himself over. He made it clear that Meg Hardy
didn't pass muster.

"What was that Mr. Fazio?" I was beet red at the comment he'd just
expressed loudly in the back of the room.

He sat there in his leather jacket and sneered. That he was so good-
looking made it worse. He wasn't tall being only 5' 6", but his dark
good looks, big brown eyes, high cheekbones, long straight black hair
and soft, flawless olive skin more than made up for differences in
height.

"I just said I don't like fried eggs." He stared back fiercely, daring
me to contradict him.

But that hadn't been what he had said. What he had said loudly enough
to be heard by the twenty other fifteen year olds was "Check out Miss
Fried Egg Tits up there." The other k**s had laughed loudly at my
humiliation, double so because my blush admitted that I had heard it
too. Our eyes meet and I relented.

"Please keep your comments to yourself," I replied.

He didn't answer. Instead he looked around at his fellow teenagers,
nodding as if to say that he had met the enemy and she was his. Jed
Taylor and Frankie Farino, two fellow thugs-in-training, smirked back,
as did Samantha King and Beth Simpson, both bustier at fifteen that I
would ever be. Young Master Fazio was obviously trying to score points
with the other k**s and it was working. They giggled and whispered back
and forth the whole class and I was too mortified to say anything about
it.

I busily filled the board with sentence parsing for the remainder of the
class, until mercifully the bell rang. He waited till the other k**s
had filed out. Then as Dino passed by my desk, he leaned over and
whispered in my ear.

"Try a push-up tomorrow. Maybe I'll be able to figure out if you're
really a boy or a girl."

He uttered this trash with such steeliness that for a minute I was
scared, really scared. He left without another word and I stayed in the
empty classroom shaking like a leaf.

When I got home I poured myself a glass of wine and thought about the
problem. Here I was, my first day on my first teaching job and a boy
ten years younger than me had taken control of my classroom. And I
wasn't even into the regular school season yet. I had hoped the three
month summer remedial classes would acclimate me to a full teaching
schedule. What had I done to Dino Fazio? I wondered bitterly. Nothing.
I had done nothing to this k**. He was so resentful of having to take
this remedial class that he was making my life miserable-- by referring
to the one area of my anatomy that I was still self-conscious of.

Look, I don't have any illusions about myself. I'm not a super model.
But I am good-looking. Friends tell me that if Sigourney Weaver had
short bright red hair, she'd look like me and that sounds right. I have
pale skin and freckles-- curse my Irish forefathers!-- and bright green
eyes. I'm in good shape and stay that way by running three miles every
day. And as Dino shared with the class, I'm not exactly 'built,' though
he had exaggerated and turned a 34B into a 32AAA. Anyway, I know I have
a lean and mean figure that, in a pair of Guess jeans has turned more
than its share of male heads.

Which was another depressing topic. I drank more of the wine as I
contemplated my new job situation. I had tried not to think about it,
but now as I wallowed in self-made misery, I rolled it over again. What
would I do with my love life? This wasn't the usual self-pity single
gals resort to. I knew I could go out a find a guy. The word was that
there were several eligible bachelor teachers on staff at Bentson High
that would be returning to the school in September. But what good did
that do me? You see, I'm a lesbian. And actively lesbian teachers at
suburban Florida high schools aren't very popular with school boards--
not in the land of Anita Bryant anyway.

So there I was, in a strange town, already tormented by a little creep
on the first day and desperately lonely for some feminine companionship.
I remembered that night was the longest of my life since the death of my
parents when I was a sophomore in college. I couldn't imagine how
anything would get any better, ever. But it did, and not long after.

The next day I arose with the determination to do something about the
Fazio k**. Luckily he wasn't in class. Normally skipping the second
day would have annoyed the hell out of me, but I was just grateful not
to have to face him. His cohorts, Jed, Frankie, Samantha and Beth, kept
their chatter down to a rude if manageable rumble. Without their
ringleader, they didn't have the nerve to cross me openly.

After class, I checked in with Mr. Temple, the principal. He had hired
me and we got along well. I had the sense that he sort of thought of me
in a daughterly way, as he had gone out of his way to help me settle in
Bentson. My request for information about Dino Fazio elicited only the
mildest interest.

"Problem with the boy Meg?" he asked sympathetically. He pulled out the
file and nodded. "Looks like he recently moved here, right after the
school year was over. Was in," his eyes widened, "the state juvenile
facility for carjacking!" He pulled his glasses down and looked up
intently at me through his pince nezs. "Be careful with this one Meg.
He's trouble." Then continuing to scan the file, he concluded "If he
wants to go on as a sophomore in September, he's got to get at least a C
in your remedial English class. Looks like he's stuck with you and
probably resents it. Meg, he's a new k** in a new town out to score
some points against a new teacher. It's going to happen from time to
time. I'm sorry it has to hit you so soon. Even in Bentson, there are
these bad k**s."

I thanked him and assured him I could handle it. I left the empty high
school jumped in my car and headed toward the address in Dino's file. I
didn't have a plan really, but I was curious about how this k** lived.
Maybe I could talk to his parents, try to get their help in curbing him
a little.

As soon as I arrived at the trailer park on the edge of town, I knew my
chances of getting help were far less than even. The trailer listed as
Dino's address wasn't just run-down, it was filthy in a way that gives
benign neglect a good name. the place was a sty. There were the hulks
of at least four cars up on blocks in the front yard, piles of
uncollected stuffed garbage bags, dozens of Old Milwaukee cans rolling
round on what passed for a front lawn, and a huge tv antenna that
sprouted from the top of the dirty white trailer.

I knocked on the door. An older man in a gray-once white tee shirt and
oil splotched work pants shook himself out of a one man snoring contest.
He looked at me with suspicious, narrowed eyes. He weighed about three
hundred pounds and reeked of beer.

"Wuz you want?" he demanded.

I told him and asked if I could come in to talk about Dino. He didn't
invited me in, but didn't tell me to leave when I opened the fly-
speckled screen door.

The inside of the trailer made me long for the fresh exuberance of the
front yard. The place was a dump, pure and simple. I found a perch on
an ancient legless sofa.

"Dino, he my neff-yew, y'all unnnerstan? His ma and pa done run off--
bills yew know. And the boy come to stay heah after he got out of the
Reformatory. He come and go-- I don't care. Some day I'll get up and
he'll be gone-- wouldn't surprise me. Ain't my problem. I got other
problems-- I'm on the Disability." He took a draw on a can of Old
Milwaukee and looked at me, clearly uninterested in his nephew's goings
on.

His disability looked self-induced to me, but I nodded. "Look, Dino
needs to buckle down. His reading skills are below par."

With that, the uncle laughed. "Dino reads alright, Missy, see hare?
All them magazines he likes is all over." He pointed to a stack of
glossy girlie magazines with such gorgeous names as "Bra Busters,"
"40dds" and "Hot Tips."

I shook my head in disgust and left without another word. Behind me the
fat old drunk man continued to drink and laugh. So much for help there,
I thought despondently. Now what?

That evening I did the only thing I could think of. I called up Diana
Weston, my best friend from college. I hadn't talked to her since her
wedding three months ago.

"Weston residence," the high pitched voice answered, "May I help you?"

Polite, respectful and demure, just the way Diana liked it, I thought.
"Ginger, this is Ms. Hardy. Put your mistress on the phone."

"Yes, Ma'am, at once Ma'am!"

Diana picked up a minute later. Before she could speak, I complimented
her on Ginger's phone comportment. "He's very sweet, Diana. You've
trained him so well!"

She responded with her wry low laugh. "Yes, well once George Fielding
came back from the Honeymoon, he had to be taught that those dress-up
games on our wedding night weren't just games-- they were the way things
were going to be. Little Georgie girl here whined a bit when I made him
change his last name to Weston. And he put up a fight when he was told
he was going to stay home and keep house for me, just like a good lil
househubby. And he needed some good old fashioned discipline when he
was rechristened 'Ginger.' But he seems to be accepting his new role
quite nicely now. Anyway, honey, how are you? How's the new job
going?"

"That's why I called. I need your help with a problem. I thought since
you're in the Society--"

Diana cut me off. "Please, Hon, you know all references to the Society
need to be made in person. And if you're talking about what I think
you're talking about, you should come over at once."

An hour later I was there. Ginger Weston, nee George Fielding, opened
the door. I couldn't believe the transformation. He had been the class
president and head of the biggest frat at our college. At the wedding
he looked every inch the man-in-control as he swept Diana away in the
limo. Little did anyone know except for Meg, that Diana had very
definite ideas about how male spouses were supposed to act.

Poor George. Now he stood wearing a silk champagne negligee and high
heeled mules, his long dyed platinum blonde hair cascading seductively
over the spaghetti straps of the lingerie and his bare shoulders. His
skin was smooth and made-up, as were his eyes. His long nails were
painted a garish red. If I didn't know better and except for the flat
chest, I might have thought that the person greeting me was George's
younger sister. But of course it wasn't. It was George now transformed
into Ginger.

"Hello, Ginger."

He looked sheepishly up. Like Diana's other close friends, we had known
George before she had trained him. The knowledge embarrassed him
acutely.

"Hello, Ms. Hardy. Uh, please follow me."

Ginger led me to the living room, where Diana was listening to music.
She rose and greeted me with a big hug. Marriage agreed with her--
especially the kind she had planned on. She was comfortably at ease in
a flannel gown, so unlike the sexy frilly thing her husband wore. Diana
had a warm confident glow, the kind that no doubt attracted George to
her to begin with. She had an angular sharp featured face that made her
hard to forget, a look that was emphasized by the modish short pixie
cut of her dark brown hair. Diana was thoroughly heterosexual, though
of the female-controlled variety, and her looks were too hard for me,
though she was an attractive woman. Since my tastes run more to the
feminine, so-called lipstick lesbian range, there had never been the
slightest sexual undertow in our relationship, which made it all the
more comfortable. We both accepted each other's choices.

"Ginger, be a doll and fetch Meg a drink."

As the feminized househubby minced off to obey his mistress'es command,
we exchanged glances and began to laughed simultaneously. Three months
disappeared in thirty seconds.

"God, it's good to see you!"

I took the drink Ginger returned with and Diana gave him a pat on his
butt.

"Isn't he a sexy thing? Ginger, you'd be bored by all this confusing
women's talk. Why don't you be a pet and go warm up our bed?" Diana
winked at me. "Just think about all the things I'm going to do to you,
doll face. That ought to get you hot and bothered." She dismissed him
with a slap on his butt and he scampered up the stairs obediently.

"Now, what's this about the Society? Tell me why you're interested in
the Black Rose Society all of a sudden."

I proceeded to tell her all about Dino Fazio, then as the wine took
hold, I began to admit just how unhappy I was. The trickle which had
begun with Dino Fazio now turned into an emotional torrent. She
listened carefully and patiently. She had known about my sexual
proclivities since college and if she didn't share them, she at least
sympathetically. Finally she asked why I had brought up the Society
after such a long time.

I wondered myself. Diana had told me of her membership in this ultra-
secret organization while we were in college. At first I thought it was
some kind of sorority, but there was never any mention of it. Later she
shared the Society's mission with me.

"The idea is that women should run things, not males."

"So it's political?" I asked naively.

But she shook her head. "Not quite." She wouldn't tell me anymore
about it but she had floated the idea once of me joining.

"The sisters like you from what they can see. You know," she added
pointedly, "there are many lesbians in the Black Rose Society. It's one
place that prejudice doesn't exist toward your choice. Tell me you're
interested and I can tell you all the specifics. The Society can be a
real help when you graduate."

Diana had certainly done well for herself, landing a top job at Artemis
Investments right out of college. It was why she lived so regally now
and could afford to keep her man at home in his feminized state. I
adored Diana, but I begged off. It was all too mysterious and
melodramatic. I got the impression that George's transformation was
just the tip of the iceberg. And I wasn't at all sure that I approved
of dominating males either. Until now.

"I don't know Diana. You know my folks are gone and I don't have
anyone. I guess I'm just vulnerable that's all. That punk just made it
all go to my head." I put the wineglass down. "I should go."

"You know, I'm sure we can find a solution to your problems. Males all
provide it themselves, you know. If you're aware of the signs, you can
take advantage of their own instincts to make them behave. Why, Georgie
Girl was just crazy about Marilyn Monroe. Thought she was the ultimate
sex symbol. All he wanted from a women was for her to be a centerfold.
Fine-- I turned him into one. Find out that boy's weakness and you can
do the same to him!"

Centerfold! The word made me think of all those disgusting magazines in
that trailer! A plan took shape. Diana could see me getting excited,
then the bubble burst.

"What's the matter?" she asked concerned.

I looked up forlornly. "Diana, with all due respect, I think your life
is wonderful. You've put George, I mean Ginger, in a unique role in
your life. But you're suggesting I turn that Fazio boy into a Ginger.
And I'm not a heterosexual. I'm into girls, not cross-dressed
husbands!"

Diana smiled. "Fine. You like feminine girls. You don't have a lover
right now and you can't have one openly because you'd get fired. But
what about a teenage girl, one that you would train as a lesbian love
slave? You could keep her as a little pet to help pass those lonely
hours at home."

I was growing wet between the legs at the thought. "I love the idea,
but...how? I mean how could I do it without getting into trouble? And
what does having a teenage sex toy have to do with that little jerk Dino
Fazio?"

Diana spent the next hour telling me exactly what the two things had to
do with one another.

************************

All I told Mr. Temple the following day was that I couldn't continue
teaching the summer session. He was disappointed until I explained I
had some lengthy legal obligations to unearth regarding my parents'
estate.

"I inherited a house on the shore where I'll be staying for the next
three months. I'll be back though to teach in the Fall." With that
promise made, he allowed me to leave my remedial English course and
assigned another teacher to the class.

"I hope that Fazio boy hasn't done this! If he's causing you to give up
this course, I'll--"

I assured him there was no connection and with a thankful handshake took
my leave for the summer. I packed up a few things and drove the two
hours out to my parent's old summer home on the eastern coast of
Florida. Diana met me there, smiling in a very satisfied way. She
handed me a keychain on which hung a small key and a black button the
size of a dime.

"He's in the house. He's heavily sedated and probably won't be up for a
while. He's been fitted with the chastity belt I told you about. Use
this," she pointed to the black button, "if he gets out of hand. It's
called the Tutor. It will activate an electrical shock that affects the
nerve-endings in a nasty way. I've used it once already today. Don't
hesitate to use it. Remember, you need to show him who's boss. The
sooner he understands who makes up the rules, the better a lover he'll
eventually make for you."

The whole scheme suddenly seemed unreal and scary to me. "Diana, are
you sure about this? I mean, will he really turn into a teenage girl?
How can we get away with this?"

Diana nodded strongly in the affirmative. "Look Meg, I took care of all
that. Society sisters nabbed the little brat and left a forged note for
that fat uncle that said he was taking off with a gang. The uncle could
care less. As far as the changes, just put him on the diet we talked
about. You'll see changes at once. Within three months, your Dino
Fazio will be ready to take his place as the hottest little cutie in the
sophomore class of Bentson High School. Just make sure he drinks the
bottled water every day. It doesn't affect females, just males-- makes
them very feminine in both appearance and manner."

I shook my head. "But what will keep him from telling anyone about all
this? I can't be with him all the time at the school."

Diana patted me on the back. "Honey, don't worry. The Society CAN
watch him all the time. You'd be amazed at our presence. And what can he
say anyway? That he's really a boy? He'd be mortified to let anyone
know women did this to him. And even if he gets desperate enough, he
won't dare say a thing."

"Why?"

Diana's hard eyes fixed on mine. "Because I told him that if he so much
as acted like a tomboy, let alone say anything, that he'd be castrated."

I gasped. "Are you serious?"

Diana nodded grimly. "Absolutely. I already told him that you want him
as a young lesbian lover, therefore you could care less if he has a
cocklet. At least this way, he'll keep his little thing, even if it is
under lock and key in his chastity belt for good. What is it? You're
still doubting this can happen? God, anyone else would be thanking me.
It's a fantasy come true. In three months you'll have a hot little teen
queen who will worship the ground you walk on-- or else. Talk about the
ultimate teacher's pet! What's the problem?"

I sighed. She was right. But I still didn't believe it was possible to
convert a tough talking **************** bully into the soft sexy pretty
young thing of my fantasies.

"Well, I can see how he could be physically transformed into a girl, I
guess, but can he really emotionally be turned into a girl?"

Again, that Diana smile-- like a brilliant Cheshire cat. "I already
have a plan for you, one that should be quite amusing. But I'll hold it
for the end of August. Now go in and start training the girl of your
dreams! Good luck!" Off she went, leaving me to my new charge and
challenge of turning Dino Fazio, high school tough guy into my new
sweetheart.

Well, if you're reading this, I doubt you need to hear the details of
how Dino Fazio was transformed into Stacie Fox. Needless to say the
first two weeks were rough. Dino refused to accept my authority and the
Tutor was employed on a couple of occasions. On the second day after
all his sparse chest hair fell out, he stopped eating and drinking, but
that only lasted a day. His diet of protein drinks and bottled water--
both containing a secret chemical element prepared by the Society--
brought on amazing feminine characteristics. His nascent boy beard
disappeared, never to return, leaving his olive skin smooth and glowing.
His body hair all fell out as well. His cheeks became more pronounced,
though more delicate. Even his hands and feet grew smaller by two
sizes. His nails and black hair grew at an accelerated speed too. Dino
really became alarmed when his waist narrowed even as his hips expanded!
He still had a boyish figure, but it was certainly looked more like that
of a developing teenage girl than a boy. His new coltish prettiness
really perplexed him and he couldn't avoid it, because I kept him nude
now, except for the chastity belt. He finally gave up his stubborn
resistance to answering to his new name after another shock from the
Tutor.

The beginning of the third week we had our first conversation. He
hadn't accepted his new feminine fate, but the chemicals rebalancing his
metabolism were causing him to lose hope. He listened as I explained to
him the new challenges facing him.

"Stacie, you're turning into a girl now and there's nothing you can do
about it, is there?"

He reluctantly nodded, though petulantly. He drew his long straight
black hair back from his eyes and his full kissable lips trembled.

"Well you know you have to start acting like a girl because you're going
back to school in a couple of months."

He looked up. "Like this?" he pleaded. His voice was a nice high
soprano now, able to hit all the sweet high notes.

I grinned. "Oh yes, indeed. Just like that."

His blue eyes were terror-filled. "But what if someone finds out I'm a
boy? Will that lady still do THAT to me?"

I nodded again. "Oh yes! If anyone even thinks you might be a girl,
you'll be castrated-- understand? So what will you have to do all the
time?"

He squeezed his thin shoulders worriedly. I have to start acting like a
girl, Ms. Hardy. Like Stacie Fox."

Good. We were getting someplace. I patted him on his lovely head.
"That's right, Stacie. We'll begin at once." And with that, Stacie was
introduced to his new wardrobe-- a bright collection of Junior Miss
fashions. It only took one shock of the Tutor to convince him that he
really DID want to put on those yellow cotton French cut panties.

Within a week, Stacie was wearing all the kinds of pretty clothes high
school girls his age wore. Jean mini-skirts, tight No Excuses jeans,
hip-hugging short-shorts, cute lace-trimmed blouses, smart black heels
and girlishly pink running shoes, darling lacy socklettes, revealing
stirrup pants, and more. The following week I taught him the joys of
make-up and jewelry. He was shaping up so well I was caught by surprise
when he tried to escape one night.

Poor thing never had a chance. Stacie thought that if he could get out
of my presence, he had a shot at getting some help in reversing the
process I had begun with him. Though I was almost always training him
on these long Florida summer days, one day I decided to take a nap and
sent him to his room. The doorlock didn't catch though and Dino's
bedroom was open. Clever little thing waited for me to fall asleep,
then actually made a dash out through the front door. Of course he
didn't know that I put the Tutor on automatic whenever I was away from
him, thus ensuring that he could never get farther away than I allowed
him too. The shock hit him when he reached for the door handle. When I
awoke, I found him crouched in a corner doubled over in pain.

I could have let him be at that point, but a lesson needed to be taught.
Suddenly I liked the idea of using physical force to teach the supple
girlish boy the price of disobedience. In other words, I felt like
being a bitch! I shook my head angrily and told him I was so very
disappointed.

"Over my knee Missy. Come on-- come get your medicine."

You'd have thought all I had done to the boy would have been humiliating
enough so that a mere spanking would be nothing. But male pride is a
curious thing. He refused.

I hit the button for the Tutor to deliver a lesson in impertinence. He
threw his head up in agony. I patted my knee again, without saying a
word. He dropped his head and sullenly d****d himself over my knee. It
was the last time I used the Tutor. From that moment on, all Stacie's
'lapses' in judgment were corrected with corporal punishment and have
been to this day four years later. I still had the Tutor, but Stacie
found my method somewhat more bearable. Which was fine-- I began to
cast an eagle-eye for any small indiscretions that would give me the
opportunity to punish my pretty pet.

There were plenty, though nothing major. It was August and Stacie had
come to accept at least for the moment, his new gender. He was
dressing, making himself up as, speaking like, even walking like a
**************** girl. He didn't smile much, but I couldn't expect
miracles. When Diana came up at the end of the summer to inspect my
"summer project" she was pleased with my progress.

"You've really taken him in hand, Meg. What a cutie you have here," she
said as she watched Stacie mincing about the house. he was cleaning, a
task he performed daily now. "I'm sure by now you're handling
discipline without the need to resort to the Tutor."

I nodded confidently. "Yes, Stacie's been behaving very adequately
lately. He still gets into trouble, but nothing I can't handle," I
said, tapping my palm with a hairbrush.

"Good. Now that he's almost ready, we can talk about something you
brought up at the beginning of the summer."

I had forgotten what she was talking about. "I thought he was ready,
Diana. What's missing?"

She wagged a finger in disagreement. "No, no, no! Not by a long shot!
Look, you have him prancing around in panties, skirt and make-up, true.
He acts and looks like a girl. But he doesn't FEEL like a girl yet.
Remember how I said that my Georgie-girl really wasn't tamed into being
a proper lil househubby till I turned him into the woman of HIS dreams?"

I snapped my fingers, realizing what she was saying. "Marilyn Monroe!
Of course!"

Diana handed me a small bottle of water. "Remember what he said to
bother you earlier?"

I took the bottle. Yes, I had. I said I don't like fried eggs, the
punk had said.

"And you said he had all those girlie magazines?" she reminded me.

I nodded and smiled. "I understand. I know what to do."

We dropped the subject, though I would ask her for advice in the matter
as school progressed. Diana stayed for dinner, all the while drinking
in the sight of my pretty teen queen pet. Dino shivered whenever her
eyes fell on him too long. Only once did she ask me loudly and in his
presence if she would need to "spay" him. He turned ashen white,
waiting for me to reply.

I paused for a dramatic moment or two, then shook my head. "No, not now
anyway. He's really trying hard. Ask me again when he starts school
though. If he doesn't pass, I'll need to reconsider it."

Diana left that evening with specific instructions on how to use the
bottled liquid. "Just like before, except one dose should do. Give it
to the dear tonight and watch him drink every drop. In the morning he
should be ready to take back to Bentson with you."

I followed her instructions, and watched the skirted boy sip every drop
without so much as a peep. He was of course quite used to obeying my
every order at this stage and did so now. After drinking it, he fell
into a deep slumber. He had grown so light-- he weighed all of one
hundred-seven pounds now-- that I easily picked him up him and placed
him in his bed for a what would be a very strange night of beauty rest.

I knew the next day the bottled formula had worked because I could hear
Stacie whining to himself behind his locked bedroom suite.

"I have tits! I have tits!" He didn't sound happy about it.

I opened the door. He sat on his big pink girl's bed wearing a nightie.
He was holding the pink lace nightie up, inspecting what was underneath
resting high on his chest. They were a smallish pair of perky breasts,
about the size of cut lemons! He dropped his nightie and looked up in
alarm. Tears were streaming down his dark, wan cheeks. His full lips
were opened up in a silent scream.

"Aren't we growing up!" I cruelly chided him. He didn't say a word, but
big tears continued to fall down those soft cheeks and I left him alone
to collect his thoughts.

Later I realized that poor Dino's worst nightmare had occurred. It was
one thing to change the shape of his body, to make it sift and
acceptable to my tastes for a young, taut teen body. The long hair, the
soft skin, the make-up and dressing-- that was one thing. He had never
expected this though. Now he had what he had so often lusted after-- a
pair of teenage girl's breasts-- except these breast were smaller, much
smaller than anything that might have attracted him. I think even a
whorish pair of pumped up melon-tits would have been easier to take than
the tiny nipple-teats he had sprouted. For the diminutive little things
my girl-boy had now were more nipple than breast. As I searched for and
found the raised dime-sized nipples underneath the sheer nightie, I
guessed that at most, that my teeny-bopper would wear a 32AA brassiere
at most. But that was the point Diana had made. It was precisely how I
would turn the half-boy into the totally girlish lipstick lesbian teen
lover of my hottest, wettest fantasies.

The night before school was to begin, I took Stacie home from the beach
house, along with all his pretty new clothes. As I drove, I told him
the story that Diana and I had worked out. Stacie Fox was my niece.
HER parents were traveling extensively and I had agreed to let her stay
with me for the coming school year. I would be responsible for her.
SHE would also be in my homeroom class, and HER courses had been chosen
by me. Mr. Temple had been informed already.

Stacie listened, increasingly more depressed and withdrawn. He looked
up in fear when I told him there would be some new rules to follow when
we got home, rules that would be followed or else Diana would be paying
him a call with a scalpel. I didn't say anything more but gave him as
hard a look as I could. He squirmed and kept his full lips pursed,
afraid to utter a word.

The next morning I watched as Stacie Fox, my new niece, dressed. I
picked out the outfit-- a pink velveteen miniskirt, a sheer white
buttoned blouse, white knee socks, Maryjanes and a floppy pink ribbon to
wear in his hair. Simple pink heart-shaped ear studs, pink lipgloss and
pale pink nail polish completed the young lady image I wanted for him.
Underneath his little flared a-line miniskirt, Stacie wore a pair of
pink French-cut Hanes For Her panties.

He was tucking in his blouse when he realized his breasts were clearly
visible through the material! He looked up, confounded.
"May I put on another blouse?"

I shook my head firmly. "No. You look very pretty in that blouse and
you're going to keep it on."

He bowed his head, then gathered all his courage up. The moment he
ashamedly made his shy request, his bra training had begun.

"Then may I have a bra to wear, please?"

"Why do you need a bra, Stacie?"

He blushed. "Because you can see my breasts through my blouse, Ms.
Hardy. Maybe I could borrow one of yours?" he pleaded softly.

I laughed. "There's no way. You couldn't fill it out by a long shot.
Besides you need a special kind of bra. The kind girls wear when they
start to get their little breasts. What kind is that, Stacie? What
kind of bra do you need?"

He looked at his Maryjanes humbly for a moment, then forced the answer
out. "A training bra, Ms. Hardy. I need a training bra."

I nodded approvingly. "That's right, Stacie. And I bought one for you-
- just for your little breasts." I pulled it out of my briefcase and
handed it to him. "Go put on your very first training bra Stacie.
We're going to be late for our first day at school."

Stacie took the packaged training bra, the tag still hanging off it.
The disconcerted expression on his prettified and softened face told me
that it would take my Stacie a while before he would comfortably accept
the unfamiliar feminine garment's new role in his teenage world. I
could only look forward to his journey toward girlhood with pleasurable
anticipation!

He returned, ready for the drive to school. I noted with approval that
Stacie had donned his training bra quickly and without questions. Good-
- he could dress himself without questions. I could clearly make out
the training bra underneath the sheer white material of the blouse. It
was a darling contraption made of soft snow white cotton, with wide
straps and full chest covering cups. It was almost a half-chemise, with
pretty white lace trimming that gave only the barest hint of budding
breasts under the too-generous cups. In fact, the training bra didn't
even hook in the back, but was worn by pulling it over the head. The
whole effect was to announce that the wearer was ready to begin her real
girlhood, but still underequipped for the new stage. Stacie scrunched
his shoulders, his fingers constantly straying to position an errant
strap or scratching his back where the big backstrap offered unneeded
support. It was so cute!

As we drove, I informed Stacie that he would be expected to obey certain
private rules I had already formulated. The reason for this was that I
needed to be convinced that Stacie was being a very good girl and
therefore didn't require my brand of discipline. As I told him the
first rule, he turned pale.

He looked up at me, a nervous wreck. "Oh, must I, Ms. Hardy? Shan't I
be drawing attention to myself?" I had taught him to speak as a
properly brought up young lady over the course of the past summer and to
always use a frivolous charming turn of phrase.

"That's the point, Stacie. You'll do as I've instructed because it is
important that everyone be aware of your concern for your appearance."
I added, unnecessarily, that he knew what would happen if he didn't obey
this rule. He gave me a short nod, though his full lips were tightly
shut.

Stacie was surprised as I assigned him a seat that was surrounded by his
former summer school chums-- Jed Taylor, Frankie Farino, Samantha King
and Beth Simpson. He must have hoped against hope that the four would
recognize him, but I watched that hope die as the k**s looked him over
as dully as they did their required reading. It was as if they had
never known him at all. I knew that Stacie was reeling at the shock and
was pleased. I wanted my darling girlie Stacie Fox to understand that
Dino Fazio may as well have never existed.

I introduced Stacie to the class, though made no mention of our
relationship. I had suggested to Mr. Temple that if the other k**s knew
Stacie was my niece they might suspect me of favoritism. Stacie was so
informed as well and told to keep the relationship secret. Samantha and
Beth couldn't have taken cared less about the new "girl" but I saw a
brief predatory leer from the Stacie's two male neighbors, Jed and
Frankie.

All was preceding normally when I decided to cue Stacie. I had told him
the signal would be my taking off my glasses and putting them in the
breast pocket of my jacket. To the rest of the class, this would be a
meaningless gesture, but to Stacie it would begin the most memorable era
of his bra training.

At first his frightened expression concerned me. My back-up plan would
be to activate the Tutor and he knew this, which was probably why he
grudgingly raised his hand. I stopped my lesson, a discussion of
grammar rules, and recognized him.

"Yes, Stacie?" I asked archly, acting annoyed at being interrupted in
the middle of my discourse.

His pretty made-up face blushed a crimson red. He opened his wide
lipglossed mouth and spoke demurely. "May I be excused to go to the
Girl's Room, Ms. Hardy?"

I hid my smile. "And why, Stacie?"

His face darkened in shame, but he knew he had to continue. He had no
choice. "I must adjust my training brassiere, Ma'am."

As the class erupted into laughter, I couldn't help but join in. "Yes,
Miss Fox, you may go adjust your training bra-- by all means, young
lady!" Beth and Samantha were doubled over in chuckles and Jed and
Frankie gave Stacie cartoonish "hubba hubba" looks. All the girls in
the class were healthy sixteen year olds with nicely shaped chests and
the request only emphasized how flat Stacie was compared to them. That
a **************** girl still wore a training bra absolutely shook them
into gales of derisive laughter-- a laughter I freely shared.

Stacie scampered out of the class, completely humiliated and returned a
few minutes later. As he resented himself, careful to keep his skirt
close to his legs, Jed stage whispered "All set, Dolly Parton?" and the
class broke into chuckles all over again. Stacie sat and kept his head
bowed down.

That was the beginning of the bra training I subjected Stacie to. He
was required per my rule to utter the phrase "my training brassiere" at
least once a school day for two weeks. He had to say it in my presence
at my cue loud enough to be heard by the entire class. After the first
time, it was up to him to come up with ways to use the phrase that made
sense. To be honest, his ingenuity impressed me. The next day, at my
cue, he raised his hand. We had been discussing adjectives. How would
be make a connection between his training bra and adjectives? I
recognized him.

"In a way, adjectives are things that make others things pretty, is that
right, Ms. Hardy?"

"How do you mean Miss Fox?"

He blushed again. "Like my training brassiere makes my figure prettier?
Like that?"

Again, the class broke down. And it was like that for the next two
weeks. Every time Stacie raised his hand, the class began to get the
giggles, though by this time the girls were getting disgusted. Stacie
had no self-pride to keep bringing up her small bust, they said. She
was clearly doing it to get the attention of boys in some weird way.
But the boys thought the whole thing was hilarious.

Another affect of what was seen as her odd behavior was that Stacie was
unable to make any friends. The girls thought she was too strange and
the boys couldn't care less about a girl who thought so little of
herself, though Jed and Frankie seemed to have a private joke about
their feminine classmate that made them eye her with special interest.
In any case, Stacie was isolated which was precisely what I wanted. I
hardly needed him getting chummy with some boy or girl and sharing the
story of his ongoing training, let alone his biological sex.

Two weeks had passed and Stacie had obeyed my rules thoroughly. I
complimented him at home, though he responded only with a wan sad smile.
I knew he dreaded getting up in the morning, hated being put in such
humiliating situations constantly and that school for him was more
literally a prison for him than any of his classmates could imagine.
But regardless of how I knew he must feel inside, I could find no fault
whatsoever with his behavior. He dressed in his schoolgirl wardrobe
without so much as a cross look. His walk was graceful in his Maryjanes
and saddle shoes and his makeup applied ever more expertly as days
progressed. No-- Stacie was acting like the perfect little lady at
Benson High.

And that was why I decided to reward my little Stacie. Sunday evening I
told him I wished to speak to him. He put down his Glamour magazine (he
was responsible for reading at least one fashion magazine a week now)
and looked up demurely. By now he had learned the tricks of the teenage
girl of how to look pretty without too much work, which his casually
ponytailed black hair demonstrated. He looked up, not directly at me,
but down at my shoes-- an acceptably respectful demeanor.

"You've been a good girl, Stacie."

He continued to look down, but I saw the wince. He still didn't like
being referred to as a girl, even though he made such a convincing one
by now.

"Good girls get rewards."

He looked up hopefully now, batting his lashes excitedly. Then he saw
what I had in my hand and all his anticipation collapsed. He took the
gift pettishly, his brown eyes clouding in pouty anger.

"What do you say, young lady?"

"T-thank you, Ms. Hardy." There was a trace of hurt in it but I let it
pass. He held the garment doubtfully.

I instructed him to put it on. Sluggishly, he pulled off his pink
blouse. Without effort he slipped the training bra off over his head.
But now his hostility was softened by curiosity. He shyly toyed with
the soft wireless cups of his peach colored cotton bra.

"It's a Missy Petite, an Olga For Girls, size 32 AAA-- the smallest they
make. But it is a real bra. What do you think Stacie?"

His curiosity was winning the better of him. "It has a hook in the
back, Ms. Hardy-- not like my training brassiere." He was fingering the
soft cotton, playing with the hook.

I nodded. "That's right, Stacie. You'll have to hook it in the back.
Put it on." I watched as his trembling fingers drew his small bare
breasts into the snug comfort of the new bra. Unlike the training bra,
this one gave his small bust small but visible shaping. He now looked
like a girl- a flat chested girl, but definitely a girl with a pair of
petite breasts! Almost instinctively, he slipped the bra on, hooking
the bra skillfully in the back and pulling the thin shoulder straps up
to give his boobs a tiny shelf-like look. Against his will, I could
tell he enjoyed admiring the new figure my gift gave him.

"Better than your training bra, hah?" I teased.

He gave me a sphinxlike smile and a pretty little nod.

"Good. You'll wear your new bra from now on. You may retire your
training bra to your undies drawer. We'll keep it-- and if you ever
start to act like a ***********, it will go right back on." He blushed
and I continued. "But for now, your behavior has earned you the right
to wear a real bra. In fact, you should be so happy about your new bra,
that you shouldn't hesitate to tell everyone about it."

Stacie's face fell. As he must have suspected, his gift would have
strings attached.

"So tomorrow in class, I'll expect you to follow a new rule." As I
explained the rule, he grew more despondent. I left the room, leaving
him to think about how he would follow the new rule in school tomorrow.

As we drove in, Stacie remained silent, though he offered a smile now
and again. He had clearly reached some decision as to how he would
fulfill the new rule I had laid down the previous night. As he took his
seat, I saw the boys that sat next to Stacie were looking over with new
interest. I had dressed Stacie to draw this kind of attention by
putting him in a cute red form-fitting bolero top over a ribbed white
shirt and a matching red skirt. For the first time Stacie had a bust
and the boys noticed right away.

I was dying to see how my teen pet would obey his mistress' new rule.
But throughout the class, he remained demure and quiet as always.
Finally I knew he needed a push. And I gave it to him.

"all right class. Let's use some of the vocabulary words in real
sentences, shall we? Use the work 'exquisite' in a sentence. No who
haven't I heard from today?' I paused and searched around the room, my
eyes landing on Stacie. "Stacie. Stand up and use the word 'exquisite'
in a sentence."

He looked up, his courage screwed to the highest pitch. Without missing
a beat, he skipped up on his heels. "Yes, Ma'am." He paused for a
moment, closed his eyes, then said "I look exquisite in my first real
bra."

The class again broke out into uproarious laughter. As the students
bellowed, I could see it was taking Stacie all he had to hold onto his
composure. Beads of perspiration were forming on his smooth forehead
and he patted his black bangs down nervously, until I told him to sit
down. "Fine, Stacie. And thank you for informing us of your new bra."

And so it was that Stacie was required to use the phrase "my first real
bra" every day in front to f the class just as he had been required to
say "my training brassiere" the previous two weeks. By now he had
figured out a way to do it, slipping the humbling phrase in whenever he
could get away with it. He obeyed the new rule with complete
resignation now, enduring the laughs and jibes of the other k**s without
a word. But Frankie and Jed were eyeing him now in a way that made him
uncomfortable. He brought this up as we drove home one night.

"They both look at me, at my breasts! I hate it, Ms. Hardy! Please
move me to another seat!"

I shrugged. "Please, Stacie! As a pretty young thing, you'd better get
used to the stares of boys. With such a small chest, you think you'd be
happy to attract them. Why Beth and Samantha are even getting a little
jealous!"

He looked at me with frightened eyes. "But I'm not a girl! I'm not! I
don't want them to like me that way! I'm not gay!"

I looked him over. "Really? Well, what are you then?"

"I'm a boy!" he claimed in his squeaky-high soprano voice. But the
absurdity of that concept was obvious even to Stacie and he looked down
at his shiny Maryjanes in deep depression.

I let it pass for a moment. "You're a boy?" I pressed. "Really? You
know how I feel about lying. Thank about that before you answer me
Stacie!"

He pursed his lips. "Well, I may not be a boy anymore but I'm not gay.
That's for sure!" he seemed so proud of this complex thinking.

I smiled. "Fine. You don't like boys. Do you like girls?"

He shook his head, his long black tresses shaking wildly. "Oh, yes, Ms.
Hardy!"

"Tell me why."

He fell into a rhapsodic explanation of why he found girls attractive.
"Girls are soft and sexy, so smooth and pretty. They have such nice
curves and they're so much nicer that boys. So much more attractive.
They wear the prettiest clothes, the most precious make-up, the sexist
perfume. They're just so dreamy!"

I let it go at that. I was pleased that Stacie was so in love with his
budding femininity. That he had no interest in males was perfectly
fine-- I wanted Stacie as my lesbian lover, not as a plaything for the
teenage boys in my class. And he was developing so nicely, which made
the next new rule even more fun. As we drove home, I explained to
Stacie what was expected of him next. I handed him the tiny ruler he
would need.

"But why?" he demanded shrilly, though taking the ruler obediently. "Do
I have to?"

"As if you have a choice, young lady! As for why, it is important that
we track your development. Perhaps you're just in a holding pattern and
your growth may kick back in. You never know at this age. And stop
acting as if your small breast size doesn't bother you-- I know the boy
and girls make fun of you, don't they?"

He nodded, a teardrop descending down his soft made-up cheek. Just that
day, Stacie had returned to his locker to find written on it in
indelible ink, "Stacie Fox is a carpenter's dream-- flat as a board."
Before this his breasts had been so new to him that he couldn't have
cared less about size. He had resisted accepting that he even had
breasts at first. Then he had grown used to them, his attitude swinging
between indifference and curiosity. But now the constant comments had
driven him to a self-consciousness that was almost painful to watch. He
had begun to examine himself so critically as he dressed in his girl's
clothing with such eagle eyed attention to his appearance that at first
I thought he was beginning to enjoy his new clothes. It was only when I
noticed how much time he spent on his tops and arranging his bra that I
knew he was finally growing embarrassed about the small size of his
bust. The k**s' comments and my rules had at last caused him to crack.

The next day Stacie put up the chart I had made him draw up. It was a
big piece of paper which he taped to the inside door of his locker, with
a big calendar on it. It was labeled "Stacie's Bust Size" with two
columns: "Measurement" and "Cup." He put it up furtively between
classes but the subterfuge couldn't last for long. That was because he
was expected to measure his chest in the girl's lavatory after lunch
with the micro ruler I had given to him in full view of the other girls.
I gave myself an excuse for going into the girl's room to make sure he
was doing as he was told. Sure enough, there he was with top and bra
off, placing the micro ruler against the small puce boob as he looked
redfaced into the mirror. The girls had been laughing when I entered
the room but quieted down as I walked in. I looked oddly at Stacie,
shrugged my shoulders and walked out. As I did, the laughing began
again. Three minutes later, Stacie, fully clothed again though still
redfaced, gave me a pouty look and walked to his locker. Opening it
quickly, he took out a big pink marker and jotted in the first chart
entry: "32 AAA."

Poor Stacie hated this part of the day. I think he would have preferred
to have returned to the verbal humiliation than undergo this new daily
ritual. But even as he followed the new procedure, I noticed him
growing more anxious about the possibility that in deed his breasts
would grow. He often asked if I thought his breasts might grow and I
assured him that anything was possible. I was very pleased that he now
wanted his breasts to grow-- even though there was no way I would allow
that. I liked his tiny breasts, the girlish buds. I had long ago
decided that I would have the womanly breasts and my teen pet would have
to do with his pretty juvenile bumps. I thought it only emphasized his
girlishness rather than subtract from it.

I don't want to make it seem that Stacie's life was all about his
breasts or lack thereof. Actually, he was becoming quite a proper young
schoolgirl. His oddness to the other k**s prevented him from forming
any friendships so he spent most of his out-of-school time devouring the
romance novels and teeny bopper magazines I limited him to: Teen Beat,
Cosmo, Glamour, s*******n, Redbook and the like. As I corrected papers,
he was allowed to watch soap opera after soap opera, drinking in the
daytime dramas that glamorized the ultra-femininity I wished Stacie to
strive for.

And he was, with every day that passed. Gradually he had stopped
fighting his training, and as days passed, was grudgingly coming to
accept it. His make-up skills were improving dramatically and he now
needed virtually no coaching to put on his face in the morning. Ditto
for his long straight black hair. At first I put him through a series
of daily style changes, styles which were featured in his fashion
magazines-- one day a pretty French bob, the next day a throwback Farrah
look, the following a "big hair" mall walker look. Finally we
discovered his prettiest look-- a simple ponytail, his long black hair
tied up high in the back and swishing gently over and down his
shoulders. An unexpected spanking one morning convinced my little male
missy to keep his legs and underarms smoothly shaved and he remembered
the lesson because I never had to remind him after that. No pantyhose
was allowed-- his legs were too sexy. I gave him another dose of the
same medicine when I saw that he had been biting his nails. That
spanking was a great deal more severe but when it was over my sissified
boy swore in tears that he'd never ruin his nails that way again. To
make sure this was the case he presented them every morning for me to
examine. His raw fingers were then quickly transformed by the long red
polished nails he soon grew.

His clothing never became an issue because he had no choices as to what
he might wear, at least for the first couple of weeks. Living in
Florida was a luxury for any smooth, long legged beauty like my Stacie
so I constantly kept him in outfits that would show them off. "Small
breasted girls need to depend on other assets to catch an appreciative
eye," I explained to him as I'd pick out a flirty little miniskirt or a
pair of short-shorts. From time to time, I'd put him in a tight pair of
Chic jeans which really showed off his shrinking waist and curvy
backside, but generally I liked him to feel the air between his legs-- I
liked this reminder of his essential feminine vulnerability. Plus it
forced him to walk with the grace of a cat lest he reveal a flash of the
panties underneath. Tops were bright colored, often midriff, t-shirts
or tank tops. I liked him in his Maryjanes with a pair of lacy socks,
but I permitted him to wear a more mature pair of pink flats.
Increasing I had him to slip on his pair of red three inch heels which
he disliked. Underneath Stacie of course wore his original soft cup
Junior Missy Olga bra, though he now had a choice of a peach, pink and
yellow colored bra in addition to his original white bra. His panties
were all cotton in the French-cut bikini style of the Hanes For Her
brand. They seemed made for him the way they clung to the sinuous curve
of his hips, disappeared snugly down and between his legs, only to
emerge in a jealous vee of bright cotton to hug his tight, cupcake buns.
Readying for bedtime meant slipping on a lavender cami top and a clean
pair of panties. The stainless steel chastity cup flattened out his
midsection so securely and thoroughly that the merest bulge remained as
a clue as to his original gender. I had to remind myself that the
teenage beauty, whose sexuality was only emphasized by her self-
consciousness, who dressed so shyly in front of me every morning as she
jumped up and down in front of the mirror to shoehorn herself into her
too-tight designer jeans-- that this girl was REALLY a boy.

I talked to Diana about how easily he was softening into a little teen
queen.

"It seems so much easier than I would have thought."

"Not me, my dear," she replied archly.

"But Dino Fazio was the toughest, wisecracking bully I've ever bumped
into, Diana! And he's been turned into a fluffy headed, house-broken
kitten!"

"Yes, but," she reminded me, " take the bully out of Dino and see what
was left? Just a disobedient c***d longing for discipline-- which you
are providing. Stacie now knows that someone cares enough about him to
punish him if he's misbehaved. As much as your 'niece' acts as if he
doesn't like to be told what to do, he's growing so used to obeying
orders that he'll be petrified to think or act on his own. A perfectly
appropriate state for your young missy to be in."

When I told my Stacie that I wished him to try out for the Bentson
Bunnies Cheerleading Squad just to see how feminine he was really trying
to be, I was pleasantly surprised by his reaction. He didn't throw out
some lame protest. He wasn't happy about it but he didn't have a choice
and he knew it.

"O.k. Ms. Hardy, I'll try-- if you think I have a chance." I think he
was excited that I thought he DID have a chance.

The next day he took an extra ten minutes just making himself up and
brushing his hair. This morning I didn't pick out his wardrobe but had
him choose his own outfit. His pouty red lips parted as if surprised at
this, then closed. Without further instruction, he picked out of his
dresser his clothes and slipped them on, hesitating as if I might tell
him to substitute one garment for another. But there was no need. His
outfit was darling, especially for a cheerleader try-out. He slipped on
a pair of bright yellow panties and matching bra, a yellow cotton mini-
skirt, a black midriff tank top, a yellow bow around his ponytail and
his pair of black and white saddle shoes. The colors of Bentson High
were yellow and black.

Later that day, as we were driving home, I asked him how his try out had
gone. He stared out the window, sulking.

"I didn't make it. I didn't get picked." He was trying to sound
natural but I detected some bitterness. As if he was upset that he
hadn't been chosen.

"And why was that?"

He bit his lower lip, then answered. "The coach said she wanted her
girls to have lots to cheer up the boys with and that I should try again
next year."

"Why next year?" He was trying to sound so nonchalant about this.

He looked into his lap, inspecting his nails. "She thought I might grow
out more by then." The he looked out the window so quickly I almost
didn't see the tear that was forming in the corner of his eye. Suddenly
he blurted out, "If I have to be a girl, why can't I at least be a
pretty girl? It's unfair!"

I suppressed a smile. "Oh, you are pretty, Stacie! Don't say that!"

He looked at moppily. "But I'm so flat! I just hate being so flat!"
He made two small fists and hit his bare knees in frustration. "Just
like my locker says-- Stacie Fox the carpenter's dream!" He brooded,
his brown eyes flashing in anger. "I hate being a girl!"

I didn't say a word. I pulled the car into the driveway.

"Follow me upstairs, young lady!" I commanded Stacie. Immediately he
realized he had crossed a line and he was going to pay for it. He
minced behind me in trepidation as I headed for his bedroom. Picking up
a copy of s*******n from his night table, I rolled it up tightly and
swatted it on hard against my palm. I seated myself on his bed.

"Off with your shoes and skirt, young lady. DO IT NOW!"

He shivered and knelt to quickly untie his saddle shoes. Then he stood,
avoiding my fierce gaze and his dainty hands disappeared behind his back
to unzip the skirt. It fell around his bare ankles and he stood in
front of me in his clingy black tank top and yellow panties, head bowed.

I cracked the rolled up teen fashion magazine against my palm again.
"So you hate being a girl, Miss Stacie?"

His full lips pursed stubbornly. He was afraid but he wasn't going to
deny the truth. "I'm supposed to be a boy Ms. Hardy!" The usually
demure docile teen was in full rebellion now, the soprano voice full of
sassiness. "You made me into a stupid girl with little boobs to get
back at me! But I'm really a boy! And I hate having to dress up and
put on makeup and act like such an airhead bimbo! I want to be a boy
again!" The failure to be chosen for the cheerleading squad had
evidently made my Stacie think about his life. He had become so het up
that he had forgotten I could use the Tutor on him anytime I needed to.
But I didn't. Instead I answered my Stacie with firmness.

"No, Stacie. You're not going to be a boy again. Ever again." I let
that sink in and continued. "You're a girl for now on-- a very pretty
young lady. And yes-- you do have to wear cute clothes and make
yourself up. Otherwise how will you keep yourself pretty? Being pretty
is very important for a high school girl, isn't it?"

His lips were pursed again but he nodded reluctantly.

"That's right. And you'll continue to keep yourself as attractive as
you can be. Or you'll be punished. And as far as acting like an
airhead, let's face it Stacie-- teenage girls like you aren't exactly
know for their IQs. No one expects you to know too many three syllable
words as long as you keep yourself looking so adorable. And about
acting like a bimbo, you should understand that showing the world that
you like being pretty and showing yourself off is completely natural for
a girl like you. No one would expect you to act any differently--
you're a healthy red blooded American high school girl with a pretty
face, long legs, a nice butt and you know it. People expect you to put
yourself on display for them."

The feminized boy listened to all this, delivered by me in a concise no-
nonsense tone that brooked no objections. As I went on, he began to
realize this would all end in a spanking.

"Now, is that all clear missy?"

He nodded submissively now. "Yes, Ms. Hardy."

"Good. Over my knee girlie."

He dropped himself delicately over my knee. I slipped my fingers under
the elastic of his panties and drew the soft cotton down. "Bad girls
get bare bottom spankings," I explained grimly. He swallowed hard as I
smacked the rolled up s*******n on his squirming buttcheeks. He yelped
and began to whine as I landed smack after hard smack on his rear.
After ten swats, I told him to go stand in the corner.

"I want you to think awhile about how a good girl acts. And if I ever
hear about you wanting to be a boy again, you'll get double--
understand?"

"Yes, Ms. Hardy-- I do now," he practically whispered.

"Good, now pull up your panties. After you've thought about things for
awhile, we'll talk again."

I left him in the corner for a solid four hours. From time to time I
would peek in to make sure he was standing only to find him looking at
the wall, face as devoid of expression as he could make it. Clearly he
was afraid I might find an excuse to tan his hide again. And to be
honest, he was right! At last I called for him. He scampered over to
me, eyes clear and skin goosebumped from standing in the cool still air
for so long.

"Have you learned your lesson, missy?"

He nodded, his ponytail bobbing up and down fervently. "Yes, Ms.
Hardy!"

I sneered. A good spanking was the a terribly effective attitude
adjuster for little Miss Stacie Fox. "And what do you have to say for
yourself?"

He looked down sadly then made himself continued in that darling
submissive soprano. "That I'm a girl, Ms. Hardy."

I folded my arms, giving him a searing look. "Oh? I thought you were
really a boy!"

He shook his head, terrified. "Oh no, Ms. Hardy! No-- I'm a girl!"

"And do you like being a girl?"

He shook his head. "Oh yes, yes, yes! I do like being a girl!"

I pretended to be unconvinced. "Why do you like being a girl so much,
Stacie?"

One of his manicured hands leapt to his hair and the other to his hip.
"Oh I like to make myself up with makeup, to fix my hair so everyone
thinks it looks sexy! And I just love to dress up in all my gorgeous
clothes! And being a girl is fun because you get so much attention!
All you have to worry about is how you look and having a good attitude!
Not being uppity or anything! Before I was being uppity and such a
little bitch! But I won't act that way anymore! I'm just so grateful
that I can be a girl from now on!" His eyes were wide and begged for
approval.

I nodded, a small smile on my face. "Fine. That's an acceptable
attitude, Miss Stacie. You may get ready for bed now young lady and gnow on-- a girl."

And with that Dino Fazio truly became Miss Stacie Fox, legal ward of Ms.
Meg Hardy. True, SHE would give me trouble from time to time and
spankings would be required to keep my Stacie properly disciplined. But
never again did Stacie attempt to convince me SHE was really a HE. No,
little Stacie resigned HERSELF to being the sexy airheaded bimbo teenage
girl SHE knew SHE was. And that was that. There was just one more
chapter to write in her story. I had transformed tough Dino Fazio the
bully into playful Stacie Fox the heartbreaker. Now I just had to make
her over fully into the sexy, luscious lesbian lover I had always
fantasized about. It was to turn out I would have unanticipated help
from some very unlikely accomplices.

The next morning was Saturday. I wanted to reward my Stacie for facing
up to her new life so obediently the night before. I surprised her by
announcing we would take a trip to the mall. "I know how teenage girls
just love to shop at malls."

SHE gave me a fetching smile and nodded excitedly. "Oh, we do, Ms.
Hardy! We teenage girls just loooove to hang at the mall!!!! May I go
put something cute on before we go?"

I waved her off. Stacie returned in a pink poodle skirt, pink heels and
a tight white and pink striped top. She had remade her face with fresh
pink lipstick and tied an oversized pink bow on her ponytail. A
perfectly primped and pouty little teen mallwalker. At that moment I
wanted to push her to her knees, pull off my jeans, yank down my panties
and start teaching young Miss Fox the finer points of orally pleasuring
her older mistress. But I refrained. There would be time I told
myself. Lots of it.

When we arrived at the mall, I took Stacie to Victoria's Secret. She
looked at me curiously. A sales lady in her forties approached.

"May I help you, Madame?"

"We're here to shop for my niece, Stacie. As you can see, she's very,
very small on top and she's very self-conscious about it. I thought she
might gain a half size or so with a Wonder Bra. What do you think?"

The woman examined a blushing Stacie clinically and nodded. "I think
so. Even Kate Moss gained something and your niece looks to be a 32 AA
which is her size. Is that so young lady? Are you a 32 AA?"

Stacie was redder than a lobster. "Actually I'm a 32 AAA, ma'am."

The sales clerk nodded. "Any favorite color you'd like? Wonder Bras
come in a number of pretty colors."

Stacie shrugged.

The sales lady smiled. "I'm sure your boyfriend has some ideas about
that doesn't he? Maybe a black perhaps?"

"Uh, may I have a pink, Ma'am?" Stacie requested sweetly. I could have
French kissed her right there and then. She was so femmy, so girlish, a
fresh piece of sex candy!

The clerk nodded. "Of course-- pink, for a good girl! Come with me and
we'll get you fitted. And you Ma'am, if you like." The three of us
walked into the back fitting rooms. As I watched Stacie shyly undress
and gently wriggle her tiny breasts into the Wonder Bra, I felt my
panties wetten. The excitement on her face was genuine as she watched
the miracle occur in the mirror. Her juvenile bumplets were plumped up
and separated, shaped into two small, pointed cones of pink lace. I
could see the proud thrill on Stacie's face as her hands deftly hooked
the bra in the back. My teeny bopper thrust her chest out like a table
dancer showing her wares to a potential buyer. Instead of looking like
a blushing girl of twelve on the first step of womanhood, she suddenly
looked like a promising minx of f******n ready to tempt a boy with her
ripening breasts!

The sales lady spoke to me. "I think your niece is about a 32A in the
Wonder Bra. Will you be buying it?"

I handed her a credit card.

"Please don't ring it up yet!" Stacie whined softly.

I arched my eyes coldly. "Don't you like the bra, Stacie?"

She nodded, her boobs even jiggling slightly in the new bra. "Oh, yes,
I loooove it! But may I have a white one too?"

I nodded.

She gave me a bratty smile. "And some new panties? Please?!"

I nodded. Stacie proceeded to wrack up two hundred dollars worth of
lingerie as she eagerly picked out Wonder Bras in pink, white, blue and
champagne. To this she added three pairs of cotton Jockeys For Her in
white "just for school and stuff," she explained. "Aren't they so
sophisticated? I love their ads in Sassy!" Stacie also "had to
have...pretty please?" several pairs of Calvin Klein cotton thong
panties in black, blue, gray, red and pink. She "had to have" a little
pink cotton teddy to "play around the house in." A sleevelees white
teddy decorated with cherries caught her eye and she threw that in the
growing pile of dainties. True to her age, she properly confined
herself to girlish cottons, though her eyes danced over the more exotic
g-strings, corsets and push-up bras of lace, silk, satin and even
leather! She'd never wear that stuff in my bed, I'd already decided. I
wanted my teen queen in her skimpy natural cottons. That was what
turned me on and that was what my Stacie would wear for her mistress.

"Teenage girls go crazy when they get to this age, don't they?" the
clerk offered sympathetically. "She's a pretty girl and pretty girls
just love their lingerie!"

I smiled. I loved them to see pretty girls in it! As we drove home, I
could tell Stacie was either honestly excited about her new undies or
was trying her best to convince me she was trying very hard to be the
girl I expected her to be. Either way I didn't care. She'd put on a
fashion show and I 'd sit back and enjoy. And as she proceeded to try
on her darling new underwear, I watched with a growing appetite for that
lithe, trained new girlish body. All that weekend I debated how to
begin Stacie's lesbian training, but ironically she was behaving so
well, so flirtishly femmy that I couldn't bring myself to force my
desires on her.

I called Diana and she dismissed my pity out of hand. "She belongs to
you. Use her-- that's why we did all this for God's sake!"

I hung the phone up, half-heartedly agreeing with her. But looking at
my sweet Stacie as she pranced around in her new "cherries" teddy and
the tiny bulge of her chastity belt underneath, all I could feel was
sorry for the beautiful enticing teen. Did she know why this had
happened to her? How would she react when I told her she would be my
sex slave from now on? But then macho bully was now a defenseless
innocent piece of feminine fluff-- what could she do? Still I didn't
have the strength to do what I knew I wanted to do--**** the sexy young
slut.

On Monday she proudly donned her Wonder Bra and wore it for me. She had
picked out a tight fluffy angora sweater that showed clearly displayed
her enhanced chest. She strutted like some show-girl in training with
her petite breasts thrust out comically. As we parted company on the
school grounds I watched the renewed interest the male students now paid
her. It wasn't till later in the day that I saw her again. Mr. Temple
had called me into his office.

"I'm very sorry this has happened, Meg, really I am," he insisted as we
satin his office behind closed doors.

"What are you talking about? What's the matter?" I demanded, suddenly
very cold.

"Your niece Stacie has been ****d." He shook his head sadly as he
imparted this bombshell.

"What?"

"It wasn't penetration so there's at least no danger of pregnancy," he
assured me. "How do I explain this?" His wise, kind eyes furrowed
gently and he went on. "It seems that the two boys in your class,
Frankie and Jed, took special interest in Stacie today and followed her
around all day telling her how pretty she was. Well, this evidently
upset the boys' girlfriends, Samantha and Beth. So the girls followed
Stacie into an empty class room and held her down. They, uh, pulled
Stacie's sweater off and again, evidently she was wearing one of those
Wonder Bras that, uh, add to the figure. Well, while Beth held Stacie
down, Samantha went to get the boys. When they got there, the
girlfriends showed the boys that Stacie was 'fooling' them with this new
bra. Then to punish Stacie for trying to steal their boyfriends,
Samantha and Beth invited the boys to, uh, well-- have poor Stacie
perform oral sex on them."

I listened to the story, too stunned to speak. He continued.

"The boys, uh, took turns with Stacie while the girls held her down till
they were finished. When they were through they tied Stacie's hands
behind her back with the WonderBra and between classes tied her to her
locker door out in the corridor bare chested. Uh, the girls wrote
something on her chest in lipstick--" but he stopped.

"What? What was it?" I demanded.

He paused then answered. "'Free Blowjobs.' When the class bell rang,
the k**s all went out and saw her tied up like that and-- oh, it's just
awful. Awful. Look, I think you ought to take her home now. We'll
need her to talk to the police but that can wait till tomorrow."

I agreed and Temple led me to poor Stacie who sat in the nurse's office,
sobbing hysterically. Taking her in my arms I led her to the car and in
silence drove her home. At last I knew my timing was right. I told
Stacie to get herself together and wait for me to call her. With a
thirst for her pert breasts, I quickly undressed and threw on a robe.
Without explaining, I went to her room and opened her underwear drawer.
I picked out two items and flung them purposely on the floor in front of
her.

"Strip and put them on. Then attend me in my bedroom." I uttered the
order flatly and harshly. returning to my bedroom, I dispensed with the
robe. I fluffed my pillows and reclined back on the bed, completely
nude. I slipped under the cover sheet and waited with a special
surprise for Stacie besides me.

"One more second and you're going over my knee, Stacie!" I bellowed.

In an instant she scampered in, out of her school clothes now and
wearing only what I wanted her in. Frightened, my ponytailed pet wore
only the pink Wonder Bra and Calvin Klein thong panties, also pink. She
had been forced to orally service two horny teenage boys, humiliated by
two girls her own age and now she was being made to strip to these
undies by me. What was happening?

"Play with your breasts Stacie. Show me how hot you are for someone to
touch them."

"I'm a good girl, Ms. Hardy!" she pleaded in confusion but she changed
her tune as I pulled out my surprise for her from under the covers-- a
riding crop. Her reticence was overcome by fear. Her small hands
slowly rose to the pink cotton bra'ed tits and slowly kneaded them.

I slapped the bed with the crop. "Sexy little bitch! Do it-- play with
your tits, my little prom queen!"

Stacie cupped her breasts more urgently and I could see the nipples
hardening.

"Take off your bra and show my those little hooters of yours, slut!"

She obeyed, her hands unhooking the bra and gingerly baring her modest
chest.

"Fried egg tits."

Stacie's face fell and she began to cry. I threw off the covers and
spread my legs. "Come service me. Come service your Mistress Meg,
pretty girl. You are a pretty girl aren't you?"

Stacie crawled up onto the bed, her brown eyes wet with tears. I cupped
her chin as her head found it's station between my legs. "I asked you a
question."

"Y-yes, Ms. Hardy! I am a pretty girl!" She was choking on her tears.
I could tell the way she was squirming that she probably had a hard-on
in her chastity belt under those sweet pink panties of hers.

"And now you'll be a pretty LESBIAN girl for your mistress. Won't you?
Will you be my sexy teen slavegirl lover?"

She didn't answer. Little bitch STILL was clinging to the idea that SHE
was really a HE! Imagine, even then-- when she was in her pretty pink
panties with her titties hanging out, nipples hot and hard-- even then
she still thought that deep inside she was Dino Fazio, high school tough
guy! It made me laugh.

"Tell you what, Stacie. You're going to be my private plaything, my
pretty lesbian slavegirl. You're going to learn all the things that a
woman wants from a pretty girl. I'm going to teach you all these
things. Ans some may hurt. But you're going to LIKE being a slavegirl,
always smiling because you want to please your mistress. And you know
why you're going to do these things?"

Stacie looked at up me from between my spread legs, lips quivering, in
anger of fear I couldn't tell.

"You're going to do these things because if you don't, then I'll hire
you out as a *********. Know what they do? They go to horny men's
apartments to get them off. I bet you'd be popular-- so young, so
innocent, so fresh. What healthy man won't want to stick it to a high
school teeny bopper. They'll use you good and hard and you'll bring the
money to me. Either that or I'll put you on the street to suck cocks
like you did today! You want to do that?"

His face dropped. And that was when HE knew that as bad as being my
bimbo would be, it was better than the alternative. "Please! No, I'll
be a good lesbian girl for my mistress! Please don't make me do that!
I don't want to do that for men! Please!"

"Fine, slut." I took hold of her ponytail and yanked it down. "Begin
your new duties missy. NOW!"

And so my **************** sex toy began to pleasure her mistress for
the first time. That night was long and memorable and Stacie learned
the first of many love lessons I would teach her-- how I expected her to
use that sweet tongue of hers on my nether regions, how I trained my new
pet to worship my body, erotic massages, toe sucking and more. After I
tired of her late in the night, I showed Stacie her new place of rest--
the foot of my bed. As I collared and leashed my sexkitten, I told her
she would have so much more to learn. As I drifted off to a blissful
sleep, I could hear her pathetic sniffling as she contemplated her new
life as a lesbian's sex slave.

The next morning, I laid down the new rules. There would be no more
school for Stacie and I would resign to see to her training full time,
to better teach her how to serve her mistress. In public I would be
"Ms. Hardy." At home-- Mistress Meg. She would wear her girlish
lingerie-- panties, bras, teddies, camisoles. But nothing else. Unless
I said so.

I left her to consider all this as I rode into the high school to finish
up the loose ends. Temple was surprised but understood that I needed to
spend more time with my niece-- especially after receiving Stacie's
written apology to her attackers.

Dear Mr. Temple,

Please don't punish Jed and Frankie for what happened. I was being a
slutty little cocktease and I loved sucking their cocks. I made up the
whole story about being ****d so people wouldn't know what a whore I am
and if Samantha and Beth hurt me, it was just because I was trying to
steal their boyfriends. I apologize to Frankie, Jed, Samantha and Beth
and promise never to do this again.

Love,
Stacie Fox

I explained that psychological attention was needed and Temple agreed. I
definitely needed to spend more time with my nympho niece.

That was three and a half years ago. I'm sitting at the beach now
outside my beach home watching Stacie as she frolics in the surf. She's
wearing the most eye-popping red string bikini. See her? She's
bouncing up and down in the water waving sweetly to us. I told her I
love to watch her make those little knockers of hers bounce for me and
she obeys me in this as she does all things. She's swivelling those
slim hips of hers painfully now. Poor thing-- I've been introducing her
to thicker and longer strap-on phalluses lately and she's so naturally
tight anyway. She doesn't cry as much as she did when I use her this
way, but it still hurts her. She's so obedient, just like a
domesticated pet.

Oh, sure Stacie is still blue about her new life. She tries to remove
her belt from time to time. I caught her once in the bathroom. I
cracked the door and found her looking into the mirror. There was a
frustrated frown on her young face as she examined her lithe body. She
was nude, having just dried herself from a shower. Her olive skin had
tanned marvelously in the Florida sun as her bikini tan lines
demonstrated. In one hand she clutched her small breast and in the
other she yanked impotently on the tiny, brightly polished stainless
stell chastity belt. She pulled at the thing till her face wrinkled in
pain-- all to no avail. She may as well have been trying to remove her
own skin.

"Damn!" Stacie cursed to herself. I could tell she was aroused.

Despondently she unhooked her fingers from the immovable chastity belt
and clutch her other breast, now holding both as if to offer the pair of
buds to some watcher in the mirror. She closed her eyes and began to
massage the nipples which sat high on the petite mounds. As she began
to moan, I knew she was pleasing herself the only way left to her now--
by playing with her small breasts. Young lust--a truly touching sight.

It's ironic. Please don't repeat this to my more millitant lesbian
friends, but I actually think that being born a male has helped make
Stacie a more attentive lover. Having been brought up to think HE would
be the sexual agressor, it was a delight to teach Stacie the role of the
feminine submissive, to learn the soft sighs of pain and frustration
that are the slavegirl's burden. I think HER submission is even more
complete because of it. As if in breaking Stacie of her maleness, I
have created an even more feminine, even more obedient playmate. Now
Stacie wouldn't think to kiss-- SHE is kissed. Stacie would ever take--
SHE is taken. She couldn't conceive of penetrating-- SHE is penetrated.
And she doesn't make passes-- SHE flirts. Oh my teenage girl is such a
sexy flirt these days. She's learned that when I'm using her sexually,
I'm kinder, more patient with her feminine ineptitude. Even now. See
how she's bending over to show me her butt in that tiny thing? Amazing
that the chastity belt stays hidden. Sooo cute and sexy. Too bad
she'll be leaving soon.

Diana called me last night and asked if she could have Stacie-- in
exchange for helping to capture and train a new girlie for me. Seems a
there's a gay football player who the Society is blackmailing to lose
games. Seems that the Society finds betting on "sure things" He's
behaving but to make sure he keeps throwing games, they want to give him
a toy-- to ensure his obedience to their wishes. And he loves brunettes
in red silk. I wonder how Stacie will get used to pleasing a man? I'm
sure she'll be fine. She made such a wonderful lesbian lover-- it's
good for a girl like Stacie to learn to please men as well as women.
And I'm sure she'll just love to dress up for her new lover in all the
hot foxy g-strings and slutty push-up bras I hear he likes. Diana says
he'll train her to striptease dance for him in her new pretties. He's a
big guy-- 6' 5" and two fifty pounds. Diana says he has a wicked
temper. Oh yes, Stacie will learn to please her new master-- or else!

Stacie's Master. How strange that seems to me!

Oh, well. Got to go! Diana will be here soon to pick Stacie up and I
have to call her in. I think I'll let it be a surprise. She's getting
used to them.

But of course at nineteen and a half, Stacie is getting out of the
innocent schoolgirl phase I find so sexy. Unlike Stacie's new master, I
like my pets in teeny bopper cotton thong panties and training bras.
Recently I've started teaching summer school again. And there just so
happens to be the naughtiest f******n year old boy in my class-- a Kenny
May. He's a blonde-- it's time for a blonde, don't you think? What do
you think of the name Kimberlee Maykiss, by the way?

THE END
------------------------------------
This file came from
Sierra Connection BBS
Serving the Gender Community from Nevada
702-825-4220 8-N-1 28.8 VF (4 Nodes)

Home of the Fiction Story Writing Contest
Home of the Gif Beauty Contest

--
x-x-x-x-x-x-x
Lisa's TG Library posts stories on the Internet newsgroups
for the enjoyment of adults only. Lisa Blades did not
write the stories she posts (unless specifically noted)
and does not claim any ownership or responsibility for
these stories. If you would like to have a story posted
without using your account, please e-mail them to Lisa
with a title and byline and she will post them under her
own account name. Thanks. Hope you enjoyed the story.













Synopsis:

David had a big fight with his girlfriend and stormed off during a big storm. A crash in the night left him freezing and seeking help. When he thought he could go no further he found help in the form of Nurse Jane. He might have been better off if he never found her remote farm. Not for the sweet sentimental reader.
Categories: Cultural Change Femdom, Authoritarian Good Boy To Bad Girl Horror Lingerie Mind Altered, Hypnosis, Brainwashed Sexual Punishment Slow Transformation Stuck
Keywords: Appliances Attached Breast Implants Castration Chastity Belts Corsets Defiant Hormones Long Finger Nails

Nurse Jane

By Cheryl Lynn

A forced feminization tale but I think more of a horror story. The usual
disclaimers apply and unauthorized use strictly forbidden. Not for the
sweet sentimental reader so be warned. Constructive comments are always
welcome at cheryl2lynn@yahoo.com.

Nurse Jane

David Samuels was driving down the farm road in the middle of nowhere in
a torrential rainstorm. The windshield wipers were thump-thwacking
loudly on high and not helping all that much. He could barely see past
his hood in the downpour. Driving as fast as he could, he still had at
least another hour before reaching the nearest motel. He was dog tired,
his eyes red and swollen from concentration. It was pitch black outside
with only lightening to brighten up the sky. Off to his left were miles
and miles of either forest or ranch land. To his right a raging torrent
in what was normally a dry river bed and the occasional tree.

He was going to his Aunt Martha's place to get some peace and quite. She
was his mother's older sister and a good friend. When his mother passed
away two years ago, she stepped in and brought him comfort and
compassion. He was always welcome at her remote farm and he enjoyed
staying there especially when he was troubled.

"Damnit, I can't see shit in this! Fuck! Fuck! Why did I have to come
out in this shit? Damn you Gloria, this is all your fault," he cursed
wiping his arm across his tied eyes.

Earlier he had a big fight with his girlfriend of two years. It had
gotten to the point where he wanted to hit her. Instead, he turned,
grabbed his keys and hit the road. It looked like rain but he didn't
care. All he wanted was to get the hell away from her and her *****sant
demands for him to set a date. Just because she was pregnant didn't mean
they had to get married. Hell, he knew plenty of people who weren't
married and still had a brood of k**s. Why did she have to be so
stubborn?

He had been driving for six hours and exhaustion was getting the better
of him. He rubbed his eyes once again, when he could see, his eyes went
wide. There just at the edge of vision stood a cow in the middle of the
road. Not thinking, just reacting, he hit the brakes. The car
immediately hydroplaned, he over corrected, then nothing.

Ooo

David slowly regained consciousness, his head bleeding. Everything was
dark but could see movement. Forcing open his door with a loud metal on
metal screech, he stumbled out. His car had rammed head on into a very
large old willow tree, the movement he had seen were the withering lithe
branches of the willow. The branches completely hid the car from the
road way. He stepped around the back of the car, slipped on the wet
grass of the river's embankment and slid waist deep into the muddy
churning waters. Grasping at anything in desperation, he found the
willow's branches and with a grunt pulled himself to safety. Carefully
he made his way safely to the farm road. He was soaked through and
through, caked with mud and shivering from the cold.

He stood cursing to high heaven for a few moments before deciding to head
down the road. He had very little hope that some other idiot would be
out driving in this rain and would pick him up. Looking down to keep the
rain out of his eyes and wrapping his arms around his torso began
walking. David didn't know how long he walked but knew that if he didn't
find shelter soon would be in a world of hurts.

He was shivering fiercely and didn't have a dry spot on his body when he
saw a wavering dim light not too far away on his left. Praying that it
was a farm house or at least a barn staggered towards it. As he neared,
a brilliant flash of lightening lit up the sky giving him a good view of
the Victorian styled house. There was a light coming from above the
front door. Using the last bit of his strength and determination reached
the door and banged its large brass dragon shaped knocker, once, twice
then collapsed in a heap, the last of his strength gone.

Ooo

David slowly become conscious, his eyelids fluttered open only to squeeze
shut in the bright light. Groaning, he tried to raise an arm to cover
his eyes but it felt like lead. Keeping his eyes closed let his mind
take in his body and surroundings. He ached all over, had a fever but
otherwise seemed okay. He was laying on a soft comforting mattress and
what felt like silk sheets. He tried to sit up but discovered that he
was restrained around the chest and his left arm securely fastened down.
Opening his eyes he noticed an IV in his left arm.

"What's going on?" he thought as he raised his head and looked around the
room.

David shook his head trying to get the cobwebs out but only made the dull
ache flare into intense pain. Moaning loudly he dropped his head back
onto the pillow and squeezed his eyes tightly as a wave of dizziness and
pain overwhelmed him. Groaning he didn't notice someone inject something
into the IV and passed into blissful u*********sness.

His eyes fluttered a few times before he came fully awake. He saw a
fuzzy shape hovering over him. Blinking a couple of times, the figure
became clear. It was an elderly woman hovering over him pressing a cold
cloth to his forehead. Her deeply tanned face was wrinkled and unadorned
with any makeup. She had long mostly gray hair hanging in tight braids
almost touching his chest. What was striking about the old woman, were
her intense blue eyes. Seeing that he was awake, she gave him a tight
thin lipped smile.

"How do you feel?"

"Like I was hit by a train," he managed to croak.

She put a straw to his lips. The cool water rushed into his mouth and
down his parched throat. "What...," he started to say but hushed by the
woman.

"No, don't go talking. I had to put a tube down your throat to open the
airway. You were about to meet your maker when I found you at my door
step. The worse case of hypothermia I've ever seen plus a bit mangled.
With the weather like it was last week I figured some kind of car
accident. I went out after the storm to check but couldn't find no
wreck. Now I'm going to give you another sedative so you can sleep a bit
more then we'll talk later."

"A week? I've been out that long?" were his last thoughts before
blackness overtook him.

Ooo

When she found David crumpled at her front door, Jane initially mistook
the thin long haired youth for a girl. If she didn't have that old
wheelchair folded up in the hall closet, probably wouldn't have been able
to get him into the house. She knew he was almost dead from exposure and
quickly dumped him into the tub of hot water to bring his temperature up.
It wasn't until she cut away his clothing while he soaked in the tub that
she discovered her error in judgment. He might have been small and thin
of stature but she was impressed by the girth and length of his flaccid
penis and tennis ball sized scrotum. She didn't waste time looking at
his manhood, it was too important to get his inner core temperature up.
Working quickly she gave him a warm water enema while still in the bath
using a butt plug to stop any discharge. He grunted when she drove the
plug home but didn't wake.

She leaned back on her heels smiling broadly. "So you don't like taking
it up the ass do you?" she thought.

When his temperature rose to a safe level, she dried him off before
sitting him on the toilet. He was out cold and limp as a wet dish rag
straining the old woman's abilities to the limit. Finally she had him in
the spare bedroom and placed the IV in his arm. The normal saline
solution would keep him hydrated, deliver an antibiotic and sedative.
She then bandaged the cut on his forehead and cleaned the other minor
sc****s.

In the morning she went out in search of what she believed a car
accident. She found the car by pure chance as the northerly wind whipped
the thick limps of the big willow revealing brief glimpses of the red
car. Once she had checked it out, decided it was her guest's. The key
was still in the ignition and turned off. She turned it on but only the
dashboard lit up. Smiling she forced the transmission into neutral and
got out of the car quickly, pushing on the door frame as hard as she
could. She watched with a broad smile as the car slid down and
disappeared in the brown raging waters.

"Now I've got you my pretty," she crackled as she got back into her car
and sped away.

Ooo

Jane was orphaned early in life and sent to live with a reclusive uncle.
In return for room and board he forced himself on her, taking her
virginity and dignity by physical assault. Her first and only date was
her junior prom as with her uncle she was forced into doing sexual
favors. Graduating she left with scholarship in hand for nursing school.
Again graduating with honors, she quickly found employment as a surgical
nurse. Within a few years she could have stepped in for any surgeon but
treated by the doctors like nothing more than a waitress cleaning tables.

Back then she was very good looking but her hatred of the male population
prevented a normal relationship. In time she met a woman, slightly
older, who shared her hatred. That woman also taught her the ways of
Sappho of Lesbos. She was content for a time until her lover's murder by
a r****t. She was not a stupid woman, closer to the crazed genius level
of intelligence but the loss of her lover drove her hatred of men to near
madness.

With her lover dead, she left both her job and the big city to return to
the old farm house once owned by her hated uncle. He had left it and the
one hundred acres of citrus trees to her. After cleaning out anything
and everything that reminded her of him, she took to taking long walks
through the fragrant trees. During one of those strolls she came across
migrant workers plucking the ripe fruit. Seeing the women, some pregnant
doing the heavy labor decided to give them medical assistance. She
refused to see male patients unless it was a matter of life or death.
Over the years she was midwife, doctor and psychiatrist, all done without
a license to practice in the privacy of her large house. Hearing their
stories of abuse and neglect only reaffirmed her hatred of men.

Eventually she sold off the citrus portion of the farm but still saw to
the women of the migrant camp when they showed up. She was well loved by
the Latino women, some in a physical way but she remained a very bitter
somewhat crazed woman. She was wealthy from the sale of the land and her
hatred of men a fiery blaze in her heart. Now with David captive in her
house and with absolutely no one the wiser, she could take out some of
that hatred.

Ooo

Arriving at the house satisfied no one would suspect her of harboring
David, she got him on a gurney. She wheeled him into her surgical suite
and spent the next seven hours making a change here and a change there.
She kept him sedated for a week then let him come to semi-consciousness
for a brief period before putting him back under.

Back in her surgical suite she had him on his stomach working between the
cheeks on his anus. When she finished it looked amazingly like the
entrance to a vagina with nice puffy lips. Next she moved down to his
lower legs and shortened his Achilles tendons. Whistling a happy tune
she wheeled him back to his bed.

"Thank you Esmeralda for that delicious idea," she thought.

Esmeralda was one of the women she treated for a tear in her anal
passage. During the procedure Jane was surprised to see she also had a
penis and scrotum. She wanted to kick herself for treating a male but he
had her completely fooled until then. Jane almost felt sorry for him
when he told her he was the new unwilling camp whore. Apparently he
wasn't macho enough for his father. He was too frail to do the heavy
labor of the men, the family needed money and the camp whores made good
money.

Ooo

David woke to pain. Nothing serious but he hurt all over. He was
disorientated for a few moments then remembered the accident. He tried
to sit up but was firmly secured in place. Looking around he vaguely
recognize the room and wondered why he was still bound to the bed. It
really wasn't until he noticed the big mound on his chest that he became
scared.

"Wha...what...hap...happened?" he hoarsely whispered.

Again a straw was placed to his lips and he sucked greedily for the cool
refreshing water. Feeling better but still scared, he managed to speak
louder, "What happened and where am I?"

"You were in a bad accident and nearly managed to kill yourself with
hypothermia. You're just lucky to have found my place and I was able to
save you. It was touch and go there for awhile but you'll live."

"Yeah, I remember crashing into that big tree and the rain but nothing
much after that. Who are you?"

"Call me Nurse Jane and this is my home. You've been here almost a
month now but you need to stay in bed. I still have a bit of work to do
on you. Guess you're a might hungry by now so relax and I'll get you
something to eat."

Refried black beans, rice and small orange he didn't consider food but
ate every bit. "I've got you on a soft diet for now, just until your
system recovers. Unless you start to feel a great deal of pain, I won't
sedate you any more. Now let me address your health issues. First, you
damaged your pelvic region and I had to stop the bleeding. Next, your
Achilles tendons were torn and I repaired those best I could. Your two
lower ribs were crushed beyond salvage. Right now you have a catheter
and anal drain to remove body wastes. Other than that you are healing
nicely and should be up and around in a few days. Have any questions?"

"Questions? Yeah, like what is this big heavy lump doing on my chest and
why my skin looks reddish brown?"

"Nothing to worry about but you will find out soon enough. Now I have
other matters to attend to but I'll adjust your position so you can watch
the television."

She raised the back of the bed and David felt the weight on his chest sag
downward. Jane went over to the television and played a DVD on Migrant
Workers telling him to watch it closely. She left the room before he
could complain and for some reason watched the program closely.

"I don't give a shit about this kind of show so why can't I take my eyes
off it?"

It wasn't until Jane came back into the room and turned off the set that
David snapped back out of his trance. She brought him a tray with his
lunch on it. It wasn't any more substantial than breakfast consisting of
refried black beans, rice and two small corn tortillas. For some reason
he didn't question the strange mix of food and ate every morsel. As he
finished eating she injected something into his IV then inserted a new
DVD into the player and turned it on.

"I could have sworn I just had breakfast and I've never eaten those kinds
of beans before. What the....she's put some weird porno on," he thought as
she left the room telling him to pay close attention. Again he couldn't
take his eyes off the Brazilian chick with a dick entertain three Latino
men.

He didn't take his eyes off the screen until Jane turned it off and gave
him his supper. Supper was the same as his lunch except the black beans
were in a soup spiced with cilantro and onions. When he had finished he
watched another DVD on Honduran culture. At bed time she injected a
sedative and another psychotropic d**g. When they took effect put ear
buds into his ears and started a Spanish language recording.

For a seven days David followed the same routine and eating the same
meals. By the end of that time he was a very confused and disoriented.
It seemed like he had two different minds. In one he was David in the
other he was a Brazilian she male with a Honduran back ground and a
migrant camp follower.

"I think I'm going crazy! I've got two voices in my head! When I told
Nurse Jane she said it was a natural side effect of the d**gs and not to
worry. I try not to worry but I'm scared, really scared I'm losing my
mind," he thought but cast it aside when the DVD came on. This DVD was
about Latino hair styles and fashion. The one shown after lunch was
another Brazilian she male porno. Except in this one the boy/girl had
big breasts and the action involved mostly titty fucking. The last one
was a Latino makeup application lesson.

By the end of another week David was speaking mostly in Spanish and had
asked for some makeup and clothing. Nurse Jane gave him the requested
items and allowed him to get out of bed for the first time. He was
extremely weak and had to be assisted moving around. His muscles had
atrophied and the five inch stiletto heels didn't help but he insisted on
them.

Ooo

David looked on helplessly as he pulled the scarlet nylon high cut
panties up his smooth legs. He cringed in horror not so much from the
panties but the two large D-cup sized breasts blocking his view. The
matching red satin uplift bra did nothing to ease his revulsion. A red
floral embroidered waist chinch garter belt and sheer red nylons he put
on like he had done it a thousand times. The matching heavily lace
frilled camisole and matching half slip completed his lingerie selection.

Stepping into the five inch spike heeled red patent leather pumps Jane
assisted him in moving over to the full length mirror. David's horror
quickly changed to terror as he viewed the image of a Latino woman in
bright red glistening lingerie with amazing tatas reflected back. His
mind reeled when Jane reached down and lowered his panties. His once
very impressive penis was now nothing more than a limp skinny four inches
with a very large head and ball sack. It looked a lot like the one on
that Brazilian she male he had last viewed getting titty fucked.

The terror David felt was only in a small portion of his brain. The
majority of his mind viewed the image with pride and pleasure. As
impossible as it seemed David had become a Honduran she male who loved
looking like he did. What he didn't know nor ever would was that Nurse
Jane had been feeding him a witch's brew concocted by a Honduran medicine
woman. Made of rare tropical jungle plants and a****l fluids, the d**g
made the mind morph into what the victim was taught to be. In David's
case all those DVDs had changed most of his mind.

He walked unassisted to the vanity where he began putting on heavy makeup
using bright colors to bring out his eyes and scarlet lipstick. His
dirty blonde hair was a total mess and all he could do with it was put it
into a high pony tail. Going over with a sexy swish to the closet he
donned a white semi-sheer V-necked balloon sleeved polyester blouse and a
very tight black satin mid-thigh straight skirt. A red wide belt with
large gold buckle completed his outfit. Back in front of the mirror
David screamed but what came out of his mouth was a husky, "Muy Bonita."
Red glamour length nailed hands reached up and cupped the breasts and
jiggled them as a large grin spread across the image's face. What
remained of David submerged even further into the recesses of his brain.
Jane handed him a pair of large red plastic hoops, a bunch of brassy
wrist bangles, several rings and a necklace of red plastic beads to put
on.

What little of David's awareness remained was screaming, "No, no this
can't be happening. What has that woman done to me? No! This can't be
real so why can't I stop doing this? This has to be a horrible
nightmare."

"Now listen to me carefully. You are Maria Gonzales Santiago and you
work in the migrant camp. Your job is to please all the men in the camp.
You don't do that and you won't get your ration of rice and beans. David
no longer exists but as a small voice to be ignored. He will try to stop
you but you will ignore him. All that matters is you earn money for your
family. Amelia will be here soon to pick you up and take you to the
camp. You will obey her always. She is your mother and will look out
for you."

The eyes of the Latino woman opened widely as she exclaimed, "Oh, me
madre she come get me. Es muy bien. Grasias Senora Jane."

Ooo

Amelia arrived as Maria was watching a DVD about the geography and
history of Honduras. "Senora Jane I come as quickly as I could. Is
Maria ready to join our camp now, yes?"

"As ready as he ever will be. I am happy you agreed to take him into
your family Amelia. Please thank your shaman Angelina for all her help."

"No need to thank us after all the years you have helped the women of the
camp. We would do anything you ask Senora. Besides with the extra money
coming in the whole family will benefit."

"Okay you ready to meet your new daughter? Come and I'll introduce you
to Maria Gonzales."

The young Latino girl looked a bit confused when introduced to her mother
but only hesitated a few seconds before rushing into her arms. Amelia
was surprised at how authentic David looked not only as a woman but as a
Latino. The only thing that stood out as different was the dirty blonde
hair. Before they left in a beat up old truck she dyed the hair black
and put it into large bristle curlers.

Maria met over twenty extended family members at the camp where he was
welcomed enthusiastically. The women and girls gave him hugs and air
kisses while the man gave a hug and slap to David's plump rear. Amelia
showed him to his new room which he would share with three other girls.
There were two old metal bunk beds with thin mattresses and dingy linens
in the small room along with a wooden desk, two wooden chairs and lamp.
At the foot and head of the bunk beds were two steamer trunks. He was
told the top bed on the right was his and opening his trunk saw that it
was half filled with clothing. It wasn't until he looked down into the
trunk that he noticed the room had a dirt floor.

Once Maria had seen the four other rooms in the wooden shack, he was
taken to where the outhouse was located. He had to pee desperately and
didn't give a second thought to sitting on the small bench seat with a
hole in the middle. From there he was shown the cafeteria/cantina where
the migrants ate their meals and partied at night.

"Maria once supper is over and you help the other women clean up it is
your responsibility to please whatever man desires you. Just you make
sure you get his money before you do anything other than kiss. You get $
2 for a blow job and $ 5 for anything else, understand? Good. Since you
are a camp whore you don't have to help prepare the meals. Spend that
time making yourself look sexy.

Maria was taken out a side entrance over to a row of four tents. Inside
his tent was a thin mattress, a bucket of water, a enameled pan and hand
towel.

"This is where you bring your man to entertain. The water is for you to
clean yourself before returning to the cantina. Make sure you have a
tampon in your purse for when you have finished for the night. Now come
I want you to meet Esmeralda. She is the one you give the money too and
you do what she says. She's the madam of the camp whores."

Esmeralda was not that pleased to see Maria but knew she would bring in a
lot of money. "With those big tits and full lips she'll make even the
real girls jealous. Make good money for her family too which will hurt
mine. I'll just make sure she gets all the roughest biggest hombres. In
a couple of weeks she'll be so stretched out none of the others will be
able to feel a thing. A cocksucker don't make that much denaro."

And so Maria/David's life as a camp whore for a migrant labor camp began.
She lived in squalor and filth subsisting on rice and beans until in time
helped with the cooking.












Nurse Jane Part 2
By Cheryl Lynn



David awoke his screams of agony echoing off the tin roof of the shanty.
In a panic he looked around at the unfamiliar surroundings gasping. He
was lying in a bunk bed staring at the rusty tin roof. He was wearing a
bright yellow nylon baby doll nightie with lots of white lace frills.
The low round bodice exposed two large firm mounds. The memory of the
fat Mexican with the acne covered face and twisted brown teeth fucking
his ass still vivid in his mind.

"No, oh no, I can't wake up! I'm still in this horrible nightmare! Come
on wake up!" his mind shouted.

"Maria, Maria what's the matter?" he heard someone shout.

As quickly as the panic had set in, it was gone. "Mamma, I'm sorry, it
was just a bad dream."

Amelia looked David over carefully, her frown turned into a smile. "It's
okay Maria. You're safe with your familia but it's time to get up. Come
help me fix breakfast. The others have to get into the fields soon."

David carefully got out of his upper bunk and stepped into his red patent
leather five inch stiletto pumps. The heels sank a bit into the dirt
floor but they were the only shoes he owned. Quickly he wrapped a dark
yellow nylon hip length robe about him and went out the door.

There was a small make shift kitchen in the main room of the shanty.
Amelia was stirring a blackened iron pot hung over a charcoal blazer.
Seeing Maria she pointed to the sideboard. A ceramic bowl held the ball
of dough to make tortillas. Maria quickly began taking smaller lumps
from the bowl and formed a small ball between her palms then patted them
out into flat cakes. He handed each one to Amelia who placed it on a
flat piece of iron next to her iron pot. They worked in tandem and soon
a large pile of small tortillas was ready. As the last piece of dough
was worked, family members began coming into the room. Grabbing a small
bowl and table spoon as they came in were soon eating black beans and
rice. David went around refilling their tin cups with hot thick coffee.
He blushed slightly knowing that every time he bent to refill a cup his
large breasts threatened to pop out of the thin nylon cover.

After everyone had eaten and left for the fields, Amelia and Maria
finished off what was left. Telling Maria to clean up she left to get
ready for the day. David pulled the number three washtub from under the
sideboard. Washing dishes was a very tedious process as Maria had to go
to the well, draw the water then heat it over the blazer. In some
respects this campensena was better than most in that it had three public
water taps and Maria didn't have that far to walk. By the time he
finished, he was exhausted and more than ready to hit the community
showers.

David didn't think twice about walking to the community showers dressed
in his nightie and robe. The camp like the shanties they lived in were
crowded and modesty a very rare commodity. The showers were a series of
four tin cubicles with a white plastic curtain to provide some modesty.
As the cold water washed over him, David's nipples hardened as his body
tingled with goose bumps. A brief pleasant memory of taking a hot shower
flashed through his mind but quickly vanished.

Dried he picked up the emerald green nylon full cut panties with the
white lace insert on the front from the pile of clothing laying on the
shower rack. The matching bra, camisole and half slip followed. A white
peasant puff sleeved blouse and yellow cotton with green floral printed
hem completed his dressing. Stockings would have been nice but those he
had to save for tonight. Hose were expensive and couldn't be risked
doing chores.

As he was leaving the showers, Esmeralda was walking up. "Buenos dias
Maria. Como esta? You did good for your first night. Edwardo seemed
very pleased when he left by the way. Said he wants to see you again
tonight," she said with a laugh.

Immediately David had a flashback. Edwardo was that fat ugly Mexican who
smelled like the pig sty with the pock marked face. He had paid for a
blow job and fuck. David gagged at the remembrance and it took all his
will power not to throw up in front of Esmeralda. For a moment the sight
of that long thin uncircumcised shaft and the taste of the crud as the
foreskin folded back were almost too much. Only the idea of not letting
Esmeralda see his humiliation kept him from tossing up breakfast.

"Buen gracias," he replied and rushed off, his face turning white as he
gulped down the bile.

Back in the shack he helped Amelia clean the house and make the beds.
With those chores done he was given a large pile of dirty clothing while
she carried the washtub and soap. They spent the rest of the morning
washing the clothing at the communal water tap. There were a number of
other women there doing the same and most of the conversation was
general. As far as most of them were concerned Maria was just another
girl too weak to work the fields. For his part David didn't mind too
much as the work was dull and tedious. It was mind numbing in some
respects which he welcomed. There were too many disturbing thoughts
running through his head.

He was doing okay until he picked up the red panties he had worn the
night before. The crusty brownish-red stain in the crotch made him
flinch and he quickly thrust them into the soapy water. A picture of
Edwardo leaning over his shoulder, drool dripping down his flabby lips as
he pumped away, made him shiver. He tried his best to dismiss that
thought by thinking how the money would help his family. Being a camp
whore was not easy but it earned his and his family's rice and beans.

After a late lunch of rice, beans and fried plantains David was allowed
to take a nap. He needed to feel rested before starting his evening's
work. Again his dreams were filled with nightmares. Pictures of a young
pretty girl flashed through his mind. "Gloria," he mumbled as he tossed
in his sleep. Her face was replaced by one of Julio. Julio was fucking
him between his large breasts. The purple head of his dick seemingly
swelling to an impossible size as ropes of sticky white cum began
squirting. The gooey cum splashing on his upper chest, covering his chin
and lips as Julio grunted loudly in his ear. The smell of musk, dirt and
sweat filled his nose as Julio's body crashed down on him was almost
overpowering.

Again the dream shifted to him squatting over the ceramic bowl splashing
water to cleanse his burning rear. The utter humiliation he felt then as
the Latino male watched before turning, pulling up his zipper and leaving
the tent. The nightmare continued as he took a dollop of cold cream and
soothed it into his hole then pulling the lilac satin sheath dress down
over sore and aching nipples. Back into the cantina, mincing heel and
toe due to the tight restrictiveness of the mid-calf length skirt to
flirt. The deep V-neck of the dress revealed a large expanse of
cleavage. He cupped them to settle them into the cups of his green bra
as he reached the bar. He wanted a shot of tequila badly but that cost
money he didn't have.

In his sleep he licked his lips as the image of a small Manhattan shaped
glass was set on the bar filled with the golden tequila. He saw his
scarlet painted nails reach out for it, only to have his hand grabbed and
pushed down into a sweaty crotch. It was Edwardo with a broad smile
standing beside him. He woke sweating and shivering as the nightmare
faded.

Ooo

It was time to move on and the rusty pickup was piled high near to
overflowing. The citrus orchards were plucked clean and it was time to
move north. It was fall and apples were waiting to be picked. David
found himself jammed between two of his younger sisters with a baby on
his lap in the family's beat up sedan. The baby had tossed up on his
shoulder and the smell was beginning to bother him. He shrugged off his
discomfort. Just another dismal day filled with body odors and smells of
living so closely together.

His only comforting thought was that with the move and setting up in a
new campensina he wouldn't have to work that night. His poor bottom hole
needed time off as it had been in high demand over the past two months.
Esmeralda made sure his clients were the biggest, ugliest men in the
camp. Edwardo was the worst and most steady client. His penis wasn't
that thick but he got off fisting Maria's ass pussy while getting a blow
job. David was bothered by how many tampons and pads he had to use to
control leakage. Such necessities were not that cheap and the few
dollars he was given for personal needs usually went to the Goodwill
store. A good camp whore had to wear nice satin dresses if she wanted to
make good money. Now that her boy pussy was so stretched, more of her
clients just wanted blow jobs. Blow jobs didn't pay well and much more
personal. While taking it in the back he could close his eyes but oral
required that he keep them open. Plus swallowing cum was much worse than
removing a used condom from his butt.

He let his mind wonder as the dull scenery along the interstate drifted
past. An image formed in his mind which was something that was becoming
more frequent. It was the image of a beautiful girl. This time he
heard her speak, "David I want us to have a family. Marry me." The
flash back made him jerk upright almost spilling the baby off his lap and
making his head throb painfully.

"Wha...what's happening?" he groaned painfully.

"Maria, Maria are you okay?" Amelia asked from the front seat.

"I...I don't know....I had...had this thought...oh my head hurts," he groaned
leaning his head back.

"Maria did you remember to take your medicine today? You know Angelina
said you had to take it daily."

"No...no not yet...I...I forgot," he said reaching into his purse to extract
the brown bottle.

He hated taking the bitter medicine she had given him but it did make the
awful headaches go away. Angelina was the camp's shaman and other than
Nurse Jane the only person with any medical knowledge. She was not only
highly regarded but had her own travel trailer with an indoor toilet.
Angelina had given her the medicine the first day she had arrived with
Amelia saying it would keep her healthy.

"A camp whore needs to stay healthy," she had said. "Drink this once a
day every day to keep you that way."

At first he took it every day but after a short while began skipping a
day or two. It not only tasted horrible but the cost of the medicine was
taken from his earnings. The medicine only lasted a week but cost the
equivalent of a full night's work. David didn't think skipping a day or
two would make him sick.

Ooo

The new camp was better but the fall weather much colder in the apple
orchards. Each shanty had a fireplace, a sink with running water and
slightly better insulation but still very crowded. The shanty smelt
heavily of wood smoke and old age but he was happy. He claimed the
bottom bunk and the outhouse was only a short walk. In the cold crisp
mornings a short walk was good and the communal showers had hot water.
What made the camp especially nice was that it had a small Laundromat
even if the appliances were old. The main common areas had electric
power, the shanties didn't but still it was much nicer than the old one.

David pulled his shawl tighter across his bosom shivering in the cold as
he looked at the cantina. Unlike the old one this one was completely
enclosed and had several one bedroom wooden shacks near by. He opened
the door to the one that had been assigned to him. It had a concrete
floor dyed green, a twin bed with thin musty smelling stained mattress, a
small propane space heater and a wash stand with running cold water.

A chipped and peeling mirror hung over the wash stand. David looked into
it and wasn't pleased seeing his reflection. His face looked older,
wrinkles and bags under tired eyes. His face looked fatter more round and
he turned away.

"I look as tired as I feel. Being a camp whore is not easy but what else
can I do? I made good money for my family when I was the new girl but
now...I'm quickly becoming just another old whore," he thought turning his
attention back to the room.

The bedside table had a small lamp on top and the expected chipped
enameled white basin underneath. It didn't take him long to put sheets
on the bed and a few personal items in the drawer of the bedside table.
It wasn't much but better than a tent.

Other than being in a new camp life settled quickly into normal routine.
He helped Amelia make breakfast, do the cleaning and washing in the
mornings. Rested in the afternoon and worked the cantina at night. His
flashbacks were coming more frequently often waking in a cold sweat and
trembling.

"These dreams are weird, so real yet so...different. I know I'm a
campensina whore but...they seem so real. Why am I having dreams of being
a gringo and a man at that? Yes I'm a man but a weak one who can't work
the fields. Not the man I see in my dreams. I'm nothing more than a
Honduran she male whore and my family needs all the money I can earn.
Maybe I need to speak to Senora Angelina. She's our shaman and knows
many things but expensive. Amelia is calling to help with breakfast.
I'll worry about this later," he thought slipping his feet into the red
heels. As they were doing the morning wash David mentioned that he
needed some new clothing. Amelia gave him a hard look but nodded her
head.

"Si, you do need a coat and some new shoes. Once the washing is done I
will take you into town," she replied.

The trip into town was a group event usually reserved for once a month
but it was nice to get away without being with the entire camp. Migrant
laborers were not a welcome sight in the small farming towns. This was
his first trip into the town since they arrived and not much different
than the one left behind. It was obvious that the locals only put up
with them because they were a source of cheap labor. Many of the
businesses in town wouldn't serve them if they came in. Amelia from
previous visits knew where to go and took a back street to the Latin
barrio. The barrio wasn't large but had a grocery, cantina and the
store. There she pulled up in front of a bright pink painted metal
building with a Thrift Store sign.

Inside there were rows of tables piled high with used clothing, household
items and other sundries. Against the walls were racks and racks of
dresses, petticoats and men's pants and suits. The owner was a portly
Nicaraguan woman with distinct Mayan features. She was wearing a long
sleeved bright yellow satin blouse and forest green cotton full skirt. A
bright multicolored woven sash was around her ample waist and a pair of
simple brown sandals completed her dressing.

When Amelia told her what they were looking for she grinned broadly and
ushered them into a back corner. There were bales of clothing stacked in
that corner and she led them to one just opened. She dug around in the
loose pile and pulled out a scarlet satin and net dress.

"I buy clothing by the pound from various charities," she said pointing
to the bales. "It's easier and more economical for them to do that than
try to resell. Mostly the clothing has minor rips and tears but still
good."

"I saw this dress when I opened the bale this morning," she continued
shaking it out. "I think it will fit your...your camp girl. As you can
see the net skirting is loose in spots but it can be easily sewn. Come,
you try it on."

The flaming red dress had cap sleeves with a low round neckline, tight
fitted bodice stitched with red sequins down to the waist. From the
waist it was hobble skirted with a mass of red net from mid-calf to just
above the ankles. David looked at it with two minds. On the one hand it
was absolutely the most sensuous dress he had ever seen and on the other,
just as disgusting. His disgust melted as he took the dress in his hands
and felt the sleek lustrous material and went to the changing room. It
didn't take him long to put it on but couldn't get the zipper all the way
up.

When the shop owner saw him, she made a tsking sound and walked off but
came back quickly. In her hands was a bright purple satin wire boned
waist cinch with black ruffled lace trim. Making a twirling sign with
her finger, David turned his back to her. With the bodice lowered, the
cinch was fastened around his waist and the dress pulled back up. This
time the zipper closed. It was almost impossible to walk in as the satin
skirt had little give. It forced him to take very small mincing steps
while swinging his ass provocatively. Amelia immediately said she would
take it.

In addition to the dress and cinch, a purple satin with black lace
detailing up lift balconet bra was added. Moving over to the coat racks
Amelia picked out a pink dyed rabbit fur coat which had seen better days
but the price was right. All David would have to do would be stitch up
the loose champagne satin lining to make it wearable. Shoes were next
and they settled upon a pair of black patent leather pointed toed pumps
with five inch spike heel.

"We spent a lot of money today Maria but I think that dress will pay for
itself. The men won't be able to take their eyes off your butt and chest
so make sure you work it tonight. There will be men from the other camps
here tonight. Something about forming a union but that's none of our
business. Once they finish talking business they will want to celebrate.
So you know what to do but do it quickly," Amelia said as they drove back
to the camp.

David sat on his steamer trunk squinting in the lamp light as he sewed
the separated net back on the skirt's hem. There was a fleeting memory
of a brightly lit apartment as he worked. He paused and looked around
the small dim bedroom. Shaking his head he went back to his sewing.

That night a half dozen campensena Jefes from nearby camps entered the
cantina. David was sitting with the other bar girls against one wall
chatting when they arrived. David noted that most of the camp bosses
were in their mid to late fifties but one looked much younger. The
younger one spotted David and gave him a brilliant smile before sitting
at the rough hewn wooden table. Tequila was passed around and the men
got down to business.

David had a flash back that made his head throb. He was wearing a navy
three piece suit, crisp white dress shirt and red tie. He was standing
at the head of a polished oaken conference table with a dozen other
similarly dress men. Moaning in pain, he grabbed his head as a tear ran
down his cheek. He hadn't taken his medicine in two days. Now he
scrambled for it in his purse and took a big swallow. Slowly the
pounding in his head eased.

"I must be going loco but why are these dreams so real? It's like I had
a different life than as a campensena whore. Maybe I'm possessed by some
evil spirit. Senora Angelina knows of the spirit world maybe I need to
see her. Amelia has already spent too much money on me. I can't ask her
to spend more for me to speak with the shaman."

David's thoughts were broken as a shadow crossed his face. Looking up he
saw the young Jefe standing in front of him. "Buenos noches, come dance
with me," he said reaching out his hand.

"I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn't realize the music started.
At least this one is both young and cute," he thought then said, "Si
Jefe."

They danced to three songs before the young man whose name was Roberto
Cortez led him over to a table. There to David's surprise he bought him
a tequila which unlike usual wasn't tea. He had an enchanting brilliant
white toothed smile and sparkling eyes. As they talked David found him
self wishing that he was a real girl and not a camp whore or boy girl.
This Roberto was both good looking and captivating. Two tequilas later,
David had a pleasant warmth in his stomach and talking freely about his
life growing up in Honduras, his family and other details of camp life.
For the first time since joining his family David was having a good time.
That came to an end when Amelia came over and whispered harshly into his
ear. Blushing David was reminded he had work to do.

"Errrr Roberto, I'm sorry but you do know what I am and I must earn my
keep. So unless you want to take me to my cabin I must go."

"Yes, I know but I wanted to get to know you before I asked you. Come
let's go to your cabin," he said grabbing the bottle of tequila.

David was bewildered as he led Roberto to his cabin. Roberto had given
Esmeralda twenty dollars for the rent which was more than David made most
nights. His surprise only increased when all they did was sit and talk
while finishing off the bottle. When Roberto finally took his leave,
David was drunk and untouched.

Back in his bunk David's pleasant dreams of Roberto shifted back into
nightmare. He was standing before a jury, dressed in an expensive suit,
addressing them. Something about his client being innocent and the scene
seemed so real. Then it shifted to a pretty girl with her arms around
his neck and pressing her breasts into his chest. Again the dream
shifted. There was this old woman standing over him, a scalpel in her
hand and evil grin. She was holding his testicles in her other hand.
David woke with a scream.

Ooo

Three days later as the camp was waking up for another hard day, they
came. The INS surrounded the camp and forced everyone into the cantina.
There they methodically went through everyone's papers. Like many, David
didn't have any paperwork much less identification. Even the ones with
fake green cards were identified and put into cuffs. Over half the camp
including the bar girls were herded into the white bus with a green strip
painted down its length. Like the others David's purse was searched and
his bottle of medicine was confis**ted along with a number of other
items.

At the processing center David and the other women were put into a large
holding cell. During his interview David told the agents that he was
Maria Gonzales Santiago and from a small village in Honduras. He was
then photographed, finger printed and led back to another holding cell.
All the women in this cell were from Honduras and would soon be deported.
There were several girls from his camp already there.

Olivia one of his fellow bar girls from the camp was especially
distraught. She had a legitimate green card but was being deported for
morals violations. What bothered her was how the agents knew she was a
camp prostitute. Surely no one from the camp would have told on her, so
how did they know. David found himself crying along with her at their
fate. There was nothing for them back home except more squalor and
deprivation. David was even more worried. He was a boy girl and as such
subject to arrest in Honduras. So far no one had discovered his secret
and he prayed that no one would. He couldn't remember any names of
family members still living there. His only hope would be to find an
influential pimp before the authorities discovered his secret.

Ooo

The dreams were becoming more frequent and vivid as the days dragged on.
It had been almost a week since he had last taken his medicine. In his
dreams he was David Samuels, a rising attorney within the firm. He had a
girlfriend, Emily, who he loved but couldn't commit. Yes, she was
beautiful and smart everything a man could want but he was scared of
marriage. He had seen too many nasty divorces including his parents to
undergo such a trial himself. He woke many nights sweating profusely,
shaking like a leaf and scared. His waking a total contrast to his
dreams, day time was reality. He was in a cell with other women, dressed
similarly with the same dark skin and language. The only difference
between them was that he had a limp dick between his legs.

When they were first processed they were taken into a white tiled room,
told to strip and deloused. It was very embarrassing and scary but he
was able to tuck his little man back between his legs, the mat of black
pubic hair hiding it. The female guards were too occupied spraying them
down to notice and he kept his secret. The communal showers had stalls
with an open front so he was able to keep it hidden from discovery. Of
course that first day all their clothing was taken away and issued orange
jump suits with large INS imprinted on the back. David's satin bra and
panties were exchanged for white cotton. The cheap underwear was itchy
and didn't feel right but his D-cups needed the support.

Each day was the same. Lights on at *****.m., marched down the green
painted hallways to the communal bathroom, given thirty minutes to shower
and clean up then marched to the cafeteria. The only difference in the
meals was that there was meat served usually chicken. The men were there
but they weren't allowed any contact. Back in the cell David sat with
the small group of women from his camp.

Olivia who he had been friendly with was now a close friend as neither of
them had any family. She of course knew of his secret but also what
would happen if it got out. She promised to protect him and when they
got to Honduras see that he was safe. Her teo, Humberto, was a village
elder and would welcome him. Like the camp the village needed someone
like him.

"Maria don't worry. My uncle will help you. There are more men than
women in my village so your profession is needed to keep them happy. So
don't worry, you'll be fine. Maybe in time we can find a way back here."

She eased his fears somewhat but the idea of servicing unwashed men much
less appealing. When he first began as a camp whore he knew he was doing
what he wanted but now he felt completely different. The very idea of
him being with any man was disgusting. Yes, he had tits, a round firm
ass and sexy clothing but even that no long seemed right. He began to
seriously question whether or not he really wanted to be a she male whore
and why he chose that path. The more he thought about it the more his
head hurt. With each passing day that headache became less severe, the
dreams more vivid with many more unanswered questions.

Finally the day came when David was given back the one suitcase he had
been allowed to pack. He pulled out his yellow skirt with the floral
boarder and a white blouse to wear for the trip back to Honduras. The
yellow panties and matching satin bra felt much better than the rough
cotton undergarments he had been issued. The only satin dress he could
pack was his lavender body hugging one and he looked at it sadly.

"I wish I could have brought my pretty red dress but it wouldn't fit," he
mumbled patting the one folded in the case.

As he said that, a memory flashed into vivid detail. It was of a pretty
girl wearing a red velvet low cut mid-thigh dress. She was sitting
across from him in an elegant restaurant. Her red painted lips parted in
a beautiful smile, her head tilted slightly to the side as she placed the
diamond stud into her earlobe. "Oh darling, these are so beautiful,"
echoed in his mind as a blinding pain dissolved the image.

His head was still hurting as he stood in line to board the 747 leased by
the INS. It would take the two hundred plus immigrants back to their
native country stopping first in Mexico City then Tegucigalpa. David was
very nervous as he stepped down the stairs to his uncertain reception.
Fortunately Olivia was right there with him, holding his hand as they
entered the terminal. The Honduran authorities didn't give him any
trouble as they issued him his new identity papers. The immigration
officer looked bored as he glanced at the INS report, rubber stamped
several pieces of paper and handed the Honduran identity to David. The
officer gave him cursory look concentrating more on the exposed cleavage
as he handed over the documents. Finally they were through immigration
and Humberto was waiting for them.

It was a long drive from the capital to a small village near Estelle.
David was sitting in the bed of an old pickup on his suitcase. Olivia
was inside sitting alongside her uncle as they made their way up a
winding narrow mountain road. David only looked once as they rounded a
blind curve seeing nothing but empty space. He was too scared to look
anywhere but at the rear of the truck from then on. Another thing that
scared him was that he didn't remember ever seeing scenery like this
before.

The villages were mostly wooden shacks more like chicken coops back home
with scrawny dogs running loose everywhere. The few cinderblock
structures were small and unadorned with rusting tin roofs and no glass
panes in the windows. The people were mostly dressed in rags and not
wearing shoes. His memories were more like seeing photographs or a movie
instead of what was passing before his eyes. His mind was reeling
overloaded with the poverty, smells and foreignness of what was
happening.

"OMG! Why is this so foreign to me? I know I came from a small village
but I don't remember any of this. This is real and nothing like my
memories."

The truck finally came to a stop in a small village. It wasn't much,
maybe forty or so wooden structures on both sides of the narrow dirt
road. There was one small cinderblock building painted green and white
with the word, "Policia" in black letters over the entrance. A man in
green fatigues carrying an automatic rifle stood in the doorway watching
them.

"Okay Maria we're here. This will be your place. Get settled and I will
be back soon to show you around," Olivia said breaking him from his
thoughts.

His place was a dilapidated shipping crate wooden structure bigger than
the shack he used to entertain at his last camp site but not by much.
The front had two windows covered only by burlap cut from feed sacks on
each side of the door less entry. The floor was packed dirt with a worn
grass mat covering some of it. A rickety rocking chair, wooden bed with
a thin straw mattress pushed into the back corner with a musty old
blanket suspended from a rope to provide some privacy. A clay oven was
in the other corner, a shelf and a beat up dresser with one broken leg.
An oil lamp was on top of the dresser and some kindling stacked by the
oven. The back had an open doorway leading into a small courtyard. The
courtyard was fenced in with barbed wire and four banana trees. Beyond
the fence stretched miles of tobacco fields. Off to the side was the
outhouse. David fell to his knees bringing his hands to cover his face
and let the tears flow as his mind howled in misery.

Olivia and her little brother, Julio, found him sitting on the bed. They
brought over some the things he would need to make the place more
livable. Julio took the box of kitchen supplies over to the small shelf.
It wasn't much a couple of plates, bowls, cups, knife, fork, two dented
pans, small tin coffee pot and large spoon. He also had some food items
and matches that he put on the bottom shelf. Olivia helped David put on
the bed linens she had brought along with a colorful but well used
blanket. A pink plastic shower curtain was used to cover the open front
doorway. He gratefully put on the flip flops she handed him. Heels
would be impossible on the unpaved street and bare ground he would have
to walk.

"Look Maria it isn't much but you have enough food to last a couple of
days. Come on and I'll show you where the community well is and the
cantina. Diego owns the cantina and will be happy to meet you. It isn't
much but he's fair and will only take ten percent of your earnings.
Julio take the pail so you can bring Maria back fresh water."

Ooo

Life was hard for David but the people of the village were friendly.
While the village was small the population doubled on the weekend when
farmers came to town. On the weekends he earned about one hundred
Honduran lempira or $5 dollars a night. During the work week he was
lucky to earn a handful of centavos. Fortunately, Diego would provide
him with a plate of rice, beans and fried plantains for an evening meal.

His first month was pure hell. As his memory of being David became
clearer he thought he was possessed. The dreams were occurring more
regularly as the days passed to the point where he had them when awake.
They were so vivid so clear he could not ignore them any longer. He
wanted desperately to talk to someone but didn't dare tell anyone in the
village. If the villagers thought he was possessed they would run him
out of town or worse. His only choice was to talk to the parish priest
who visited the village on a monthly basis. Even if the priest thought
he was crazy, the sanctity of the confessional would keep him safe.
There was also the hope that his story would be believed.

Padre Joseph listened to his story during confession in disbelief but
intrigued by it. The details David had of a prior life were just too
good to be made up. Despite what his eyes told him, this parishioner
could speak fluent English and the story too detailed to be known by a
Honduran woman. Obviously Maria was possessed and an exorcism called
for. To save her soul he took her back to the capital. Once there the
nuns could look after the poor woman until the ceremony could be
performed.

Mother Superior was a stern harsh faced Mayan woman who insisted that
Maria remove her whorish makeup and change into a white rough cotton
sheath dress. With her native background she believed that possession by
evil spirits was real. To her the only effective way to deal with such
individuals was through prayer and contrition. The prayer would be the
easy part as Maria would spend most of the day on her knees. Contrition
would come via a horsehair under vest and flagellation.

A good scourging combined with fasting and prayer usually worked based
upon her experiences. Of course Padre Joseph could try his exorcism but
she didn't hold as much faith in its results without using her methods
first. She convinced the good padre to wait two months.

"Padre we need time before you perform an exorcism. Unless Maria accepts
that she is possessed by evil and renounces it, your holy rites might not
work. As you say, she is deeply held by this spirit. Give me the time I
need to save her soul."

Ooo

David stood in the small cell the nuns had assigned him after cleaning
off his makeup in the communal bathroom. The cell contained a small cot,
bedside table that held a lamp and a small dresser. The only decoration
in the white plaster room was a crucifix. In front of the crucifix was a
prayer stool and bible. On the cot was the clothing Mother Superior had
given him. A white rough cotton shift dress, white cotton full cut brief
styled panties, a strange looking very rough brown vest that laced up the
back and brown leather sandals.

"Looks like the only difference between here and the INS camp is the
orange jump suit. I wonder what that weird looking vest is for. It
certainly doesn't look comfortable. More like some kind of torture
piece. It sure is course feeling. They can't mean for me to actually
wear this," he thought as the nun standing behind him made an impatient
sound.

Dropping the vest back onto the cot he turned to face her. She made a
hurry up signal with her finger. "Guess I better change. They sure
don't talk much around here."

David kept his back to her as he stepped into the cotton panties. The
plain panties weren't nearly as comfortable or pretty as the apricot
nylon ones he tossed on the cot. He was looking for the bra when the nun
stepped up and took the brown vest from the cot. She briskly turned him
to face away and pulled the vest down over his head. It was indeed very
scratchy and rough on his tender skin and became much more so as she
tightened the lacing.

"Hey, this thing scratches and itches. I don't want to wear this!
Please take it off," he said trying to pull away.

The nun was both bigger and stronger than he was. Her only reply was to
pull the laces tighter. He had tears in his eyes and gasping for breath
by the time she tied them off. She spared him no sympathy as she handed
him the dress to put on. The grim determined look on her face never
changed as she pushed him out the door. From the time he had been
introduced to sister Ignacio by the Mother Superior until he was marched
back into her office the nun hadn't a single word.

The Mother Superior was sitting behind a large elaborately carved
mahogany desk. She watched as he entered the room with sharp piercing
eyes and grave expression. "Have a seat Maria and I will tell you the
rules which you will follow to the letter. Padre Joseph has left you in
our care until he can perform an exorcism. There is a powerful evil
curse living within you that must be removed for the sake of your very
soul. The padre told me how you earned your living, a grave sin by
itself but your possession is far graver. I and my fellow sisters will
see that you are prepared for the exorcism."

"Now for the rules, like the rest of the sisters, you will hold to a vow
of silence. Once this meeting is over, you will not talk again until you
leave. As you are possessed by the devil, you will have no contact with
the other sisters except for sister Ignacio or me. You will spend your
days praying before God to forgive your sins. You will only be given
tortillas and soup twice a day. Fasting will make your pleas for
forgiveness more acceptable. As you pray, renouncing your sins, you will
use this whip across your shoulders three times before you repeat your
sins. Flagellation shows that you are sincere in your prayers. The
harder you strike the sooner will be your salvation. Do not fail to use
the whip or use it too lightly or sister Ignacio will do it for you.

She paused to push a cat-o-nine-tails across the top of her desk toward
him. "What I have told you is not up for discussion or question. You
have a devil within you and your actions and words are not trusted.
While you won't believe it, we are doing this for your very soul. We do
not give up easily. sister Ignacio has been put in charge of your
salvation. She will instruct you in the proper prayers and methods to
achieve repentance. She can either beat you with the whip, have you
scrub the stone floors on your hands and knees or deny you your meals
should you disobey. I suggest you fully cooperate and concentrate on
saving your soul. You may go."

"Wait please! You got this all wrong. I'm not possessed. I swear I'm
really David Samuels and an American citizen. I don't know how I got
this way but I must have been d**gged or something. All I ask is that
you take me to the U.S. Embassy. My fingerprints will identify me.
Pleas...."

"Enough of this blasphemy! Your soul and mind are possessed but your
body tells the truth. sister Ignacio, silence this blasphemer!"

Before David could do anything a thick cloth was crammed into his mouth
and tied securely behind his head. The much bigger and stronger sister
Ignacio forced him out of the room and back to his cell. There he was
forced onto his knees on the small wooden prayer stand in front of the
crucifix. She quickly fastened him with ropes to the stand leaving him
with very little movement.

His gag was taken off and she removed the cat-of-nine-tails from her
robe's pocket. She then began thoroughly thrashing his back while saying
loudly, "You are Maria Gonzales Santiago! You are a simple peasant
woman! Now tell me who and what you are!"

The pain was indescribable. It flared with each stroke of the lash
amplified by the horse hair under vest. After a dozen very hard strokes,
in pain wracked tears he finally replied, "I'm Maria Gonzales Santiago a
peasant woman. Please stop. No more, I can't take any more."

She didn't stop but the harshness of her strokes lessened as she told him
to repeat who and what he was. She didn't stop until one hundred strokes
of the whip had pelted his back. His throat parched, his back aflame and
barely able to repeat who and what he was, David sagged in his bindings.
He didn't know how long he was left bound and kneeling on the hard wooden
stand but the pain coming from his knees was almost as bad as his back.
Finally a tin cup was placed to his lips and he drank the cool water down
in big gulps. His hopes of being untied died as he felt the cords of the
whip strike his back once again.

"Who are you? What are you?"

"I'm Maria Gonzales Santiago a simple peasant woman," he began repeating
over and over.

After another one hundred strokes which were lighter but still painful,
his torment stopped. He was given another cup of water and told to begin
praying for forgiveness.

"You will pray now. Pray clearly and loudly so your prayers will be
heard above. Beg the Holy Father to forgive your grievous sins and rid
you of your demon. Tell him that you only want to be Maria Gonzales
Santiago and a good peasant woman. Not the devil that haunts you. Here,
take the whip and strike yourself three times after each prayer."

Ooo

David had no idea of how long he was kept in that cell praying, punishing
him self and meditating. He wasn't allowed to sleep much and between the
pain, sleep deprivation and diet lost all perception of time. His only
relief came in the morning when he was allowed to bathe using a large tin
wash tub, a bit of lye soap and a rag. sister Ignacio tended to his back
each morning relieving some of the pain but it flared back up as he
started morning prayers. Time was measured by two functions, awake and
asleep.

Finally he was taken before Padre Joseph and three other priests. The
exorcism came to a close with David being doused in holy water and told
to sin no more. After the ceremony Maria Gonzales Santiago was asked
what she would like to do. Her choices were to be taken back to her
village or stay with the good nuns. His experience with sister Ignacio
only left him one choice.

Padre Joseph took Maria back to her village the following Sunday. Even
though her satin dress hung loosely on her emaciated frame her tits would
still attract the men. Maria smiled as she jiggled her breasts with her
palms settling them in her red satin bra while a young man looked.

"Maybe I can get few centavos from him," Maria thought as she leaned out
the window of her shack.






















Big Fat Bertha Lou Part 1
By Cheryl Lynn

This is a severe humiliation story and contains some ******** sexual
scenes. It is not for the sweet/sentimental reader. All the usual
disclaimers apply and for personal use only. Any other use is strictly
prohibited unless approved by the author. Thanks go to Throne for
giving me the idea for the main character in this story. Comments are
welcome at Cheryl2lynn@yahoo.com.



Big Fat Bertha Lou

Bertha Lou had been obese since c***dhood, very obese. All the females
in the family going back generations had been obese and she was no
exception. At the turn of the 19th century fat girls made ideal mates
for the young men of that era. With their wide c***d bearing hips men
knew they could father large families who could then be used to help
farm the land. That was then but now men lusted after shapelier
beautiful women. Bertha Lou met none of modern day dating criteria.

She was fat and ugly. Her only good feature was a pair of emerald green
eyes. Bertha Lou was five foot nine and weighted two hundred and
ninety-eight pounds. Her black hair was cut in a unflattering short
page boy style, had a large fat nose and triple chin. Making her
features even less appealing was a significant gap between her two front
teeth. Teased mercilessly throughout her life she had few girlfriends
and never asked out on a date. As a result spent her time on her
studies and bottled up her ever growing hatred of men. It was always
the boys and men as she was growing up that had bullied and teased her
the most.

The most humiliating day in her life occurred during her junior year of
high school. A transfer student, James Archer, asked her out on a date.
She was skeptical at first but being new he convinced her to go to a
costume party. James told her that he was going as a male ballet dancer
and needed her to join him as his ballerina. To prove his sincerity, he
showed her the men's dance leotard and tights he intended to wear and
presented her with a gift. It was a pink leotard and tights with white
tutu since she told him she didn't have one. On the night of the party
James called her and told her something had come up and for her to meet
him at the party. The party was at one of the most popular student's
home and she was the only one wearing a costume. Needless to say she
fled in horrified humiliation with James laughing the loudest. Over the
next two years of school constant reminders of her ordeal kept popping
up. Other incidents over time made her hatred of men fester. One day,
she promised, she would get even for the way men treated her.

Ooo

Bertha Lou was waddling out of the mall Friday evening when of all
people, James Archer came stumbling out of Applebee's drunk as a skunk.
He had been celebrating at the bar with some of his friends. Bumping
into Bertha, he fell doing a face plant on the granite flooring. He was
out cold. She wondered where this asshole's friends were but no one was
around. Not seeing anyone and no one coming in the nearby entrance door
of the mall, she had an idea. Picking him up and putting his arm around
her shoulders and grasping around his waist, dragged him out of the
mall. Only a couple of people going to the entrance saw them but paid
no attention. At her car she dumped him into the back seat. He had a
bump on his forehead and totally out of it. Smiling she drove home to
what had been her mother's house.

The wood framed two bedroom house wasn't much but she had inherited it
and the five acres of forest surrounding it. The best thing about the
house was its relative isolation where passerby's couldn't tease the fat
girl. Bertha Lou had no trouble getting him into the house. Once
inside took him down into the cellar which had been converted into a
spare bed room. This room was for visiting family members and had a
small bath. Bringing him home had been a spur of the moment decision
and she wasn't sure what to do now that she had him.

Looking down at the snoring man her held in hatred flared into full
bloom. "I'm not sure what I'm going to do to you yet but I will figure
out something even more embarrassing than what you did to me. No one
knows where you are and I doubt anyone that might have seen us gives a
shit. The one thing I'm sure of is that you're not going anywhere
soon," she said while stripping off his clothing.

James Archer wasn't a big or overly masculine man. He was five foot
seven, weighed one twenty-five with below the collar length sandy blond
hair. He was twenty-************* with what many would call baby faced
good looks, a face that seldom seemed to need a shave. The rest of his
body was hairy but not overly so. While she had never dated she knew
what a man looked like down there. Reaching out she pinched the head of
his penis between thumb and forefinger stretching it out. It was the
first adult penis she had ever touched.

"Not that impressive I imagine but I guess like all men proud of it.
Now that gives me an idea but first I have to make sure you don't go
anywhere," she mumbled as she released it.

Picking him up carried him into the bath and placed him in the old
fashioned footed tub. She found some duct tape in the closet and
quickly secured his hands and feet. While secluded she didn't want to
hear him yelling and screaming so pulled off her white nylon six "X"
sized panties and stuffed them into his mouth. A final piece of duct
tape would hold them in place until she could find something better.

Back in her room she got ready for her night shift. Bertha Lou was a
Licensed Practical Nurse (LPN) at a nearby nursing home. She was
tempted to call in sick but she needed to get some supplies. Her plans
for him were still in their ******y but the nursing home had things she
would need like pharmaceuticals.

The night shift meant that she would practically be alone all night.
Like most nights she checked on her patients and made rounds but other
than that not much ever happened. She used that down time wisely
gathering some things here others there putting them into her large
tote. Satisfied she had most of what she needed, spent the rest of the
evening searching the web and placing orders.

It was a very satisfied Bertha Lou that went home. The first thing she
did was retrieve the supplies she had taken from the nursing home. He
was still asleep which made what she planned on doing so much easier.
Taking the large container of Glucose IV solution she hung it from the
shower rod over the tub and inserted the needle into his arm. Turning
on the drip, she injected the sedative into the solution. A protective
cover was put over the injection site to keep the needle from moving or
getting wet.

"That should keep you asleep, hydrated and fed until I wake you up in a
couple of days," she thought smiling down at him.

Ooo

Over the weekend she checked on him frequently changing out the IV as
needed and making sure his wastes were washed down the drain. Other
than checking his vital signs there wasn't much more she could do. Late
Monday afternoon on her day off she found several packages at her front
door.

"Finally now I can really fix his wagon," she thought as she carried him
to the bed.

Grinning she removed the slivery titanium chastity from a box. Her
smile widened as she examined the top of the line device. It had been
very very expensive but she wanted the best. The woven metal of the
penis tube worked like a Chinese Finger Puzzle the more you pulled on it
the tighter it became. The underside of the tube was not polished like
the outside. It had small points similar to a rasp file that would grip
the flesh. If he tried to get an erection the pain would be
significant. Attached to the base were two thin titanium chains that
went around the waist and connect to the one attached to the front with
a cylindrical titanium combination lock. Once on his penis would only
be good for urination provided he sat.

Opening the next box she took out a florescent pink leotard with round
neckline and cap sleeves, white tights with rainbow highlights, stiff
white tutu and pair of black ballerina slippers. The last box contained
a bright red heart shaped satin purse with a gold chain shoulder strap.
She put his wallet, keys and cell into the purse and hung the chain
strap around his neck.

She left him lying on the bed so she could finish the final details.
Bertha Lou had cut out individual letters from magazines and busily
began constructing them into a note.

James When you read this you probably already know what I did to you If
you ever want to get out of the fix you re in call 555-5656 and ask for
Mistress Yes you could call the police have me arrested BUT if you do I
will have burned the combination to the lock You will never get out
without severe deep burns or worse. It takes an especially hot torch to
cut threw titanium
Mistress

Smiling she put the note and several pictures of him in his precious
ballerina outfit into his purse. Picking him up carried him to her car.
It was pitch black as she drove to the mall with clouds covering the
crescent moon. By the time she got to the mall it was closed and she
had no trouble sitting him down by the entrance without being seen.

Ooo

Something tapping him hard on the shoulder woke James up. Stooping over
him was a security guard. He raised his hands to rub his eyes and block
the bright glare of the flashlight. He came fully awake seeing the
bright pink nail polish on his fingers.

"Alright buddy, I don't know why you're dressed up for Halloween in the
middle of summer but you're not sleeping it off here. Get you fairy ass
up and get out of here," the security guard said tapping the heavy steel
flashlight in his palm.

A very confused and disorientated James staggered to his feet. The last
thing he remembered was drinking with his buddies. Now he was standing
outside the Mall, with pink nails, worse yet wearing a ballerina outfit
complete with flaring tutu and a purse slung around his neck.

"What the fuck?" he said hoarsely. His throat was bone dry and he had a
pounding headache to boot.

"Go on, get outta here ****** or I'm calling the cops," the officer
demanded poking the flashlight into his chest for emphasis.

James still confused looked at the officer tapping his flashlight
menacingly in his palm then scanned the mostly empty parking lot. He
saw his car and staggered over to it. It had keyless entry and opened
at his touch. Seeing the beam of the flashlight shining on him, he
quickly put the car into gear and drove off.

"It's bad enough having to chase homeless bums away but now ******s?"
the security officer mumbled as he left to finish his rounds.

When James arrived at his apartment complex most the parking spaces were
filled. He found one at least hundred yards from his. Glancing at the
clock on his dashboard noted that it was a little past mid-night.

"Crap! No wonder the lots full. Now I have to get to my apartment
looking like a damn fool and not be seen. Shit! If I find out who did
this to me I'm going to kill them," he yelled banging his fists on the
steering wheel.

The tutu kept bouncing up and down as he walked sticking to the shadows.
Its touch was making him madder and madder. Looking around and seeing
no one, he made a made dash for his second floor apartment. He stood
before his door panting and wondering how he was going to get in. The
leotard had no pockets. It took the confused man a couple of moments to
remember the purse.

"I've never been so happy to be home in my life. Now to get this crap
off me," he said in relief once safely inside.

He started ripping off the offending clothing as he walked to his
bedroom. He still had the tights on when he looked into the full length
mirror on the back of his closet door. His hair was in a bun at the top
of his head with a pink satin ribbon tied around the base. His cheeks
were circled in pink blush, his eyelids painted in a bright green
shadow, thick black eyeliner, long false eye lashes and his lips coated
in glistening pink lipstick. What really stood out were the two painted
arches over his eyes. His eyebrows had been shaved off.

"OMG! Could this get any more humiliating?" he said as he began pulling
off the tights.

With the tights halfway down his thighs James saw what Bertha Lou had
done. He staggered almost falling when he saw the shiny metal encasing
his groin. It didn't take him long to discover that it couldn't be
removed and that it hurt like the dickens when he pulled on the sheath.
Giving up he went into the bathroom to remove the makeup. There he
discovered that soap and water wouldn't remove the lipstick. No matter
how hard he scrubbed it retained most of its coloring. He cussed loudly
seeing that he didn't have any eyebrows or sideburns.

Giving up the attempt to remove the lipstick, he stepped into the
shower. His hair had been soaked in hairspray and needed to be washed
out. He also coated his groin in shampoo hoping to slip the chains down
over his hips. Again he was met with only more pain and failure.

Taking one last look into the mirror over the sink, he muttered, "At
least I have the weekend to see if this shit wears off. It's probably
that long lasting stuff I've seen on television commercials. I just
hope no one notices that I don't have any eyebrows. I wonder how long
it takes for them to grow back. My next door neighbor has some bolt
cutters. I'll borrow them in the morning and get this damn thing off
me. Shit, I forgot about the lipstick...can't let him see that..I could
tell him my girlfriend did it as a joke. Yeah, that'll be embarrassing
but probably work. Guess I can sc**** this pink polish off my nails
with a knife but right now I'm calling Jake. Maybe he can tell me which
of those yahoos I was drinking with did this to me."

Still naked he opened the purse to remove his cell when he noticed the
note. It fell from his shaking hands and he collapsed onto his bed.
His hands clenched into fists pounded the mattress as tears began to
flow.

"Damn it! I'll find out which one of you yahoos did this and I'm going
to kill you! This isn't funny anymore you sick fucks!" his mind
screamed.

When he regained control he sat up and reached for his cell intending to
call Jake. Hearing a very groggy sounding Jake finally answer, James
lit into him with a burst of profanity interlaced with wanting to know
who screwed with him. Jake responded by saying he had no idea of what
the hell he was talking about and why he was calling him at this ungodly
hour on a Monday night. The phone fell from his hand as he sat on the
side of the bed.

"Monday night? It can't be," he thought picking the phone up and
checking the day app.

"OMG! It's Tuesday morning! How did I lose three days of my life and
what the fuck's going on? Shit!" he gasped.

At seven James went to his neighbor's door and asked to borrow his bolt
cutters. When asked about the pink lipstick, he said it was a sick joke
done by his girlfriend. It was embarrassing and he got a good chuckle
out of his neighbor. Back in his apartment he quickly striped and spent
the next thirty minutes trying unsuccessfully to cut the thin chains.
Giving up he returned the bolt cutters.

After calling in sick to work, he spent the next couple of hours
researching titanium, how to cut it and chastity devices for clues to
getting them off. What he discovered about titanium scared him as it
had a melting point of over three thousand degrees Fahrenheit, stronger
than most steels and preferred in body piercings due to its inertness.
He managed to find the site selling the device securing his groin. The
news there was no better as it explained that there was no industrial
built in combination that could over ride a combination once set.

"I'm truly fucked!" he screamed in frustration slamming his hands down
on the keyboard.

Ooo

While James was discovering the extent of his plight, Bertha Lou was
trying to figure out what to do next. "The pink leotard and dropping
him off at the mall had to be humiliating but that's not enough. He
plagued me for years and I just can't settle for one good night of
revenge. Yeah, the chastity has to be mortifying but not humiliating.
He won't be able to have sex but that won't necessarily make him the
subject of public ridicule. So what can I do to make his life as
miserable as he made mine?"

She spent most of her morning and early afternoon going through various
sites on the internet. She found a large number detailing ways to
extract revenge. She found everything from simple practical jokes to
advocating physical harm but the ones concerning petticoat punishment,
now that got her interest. When she gave him her cell number, it was
only to rub in how dickless he was going to be. However the idea of him
having to go to work and appear in public as an emerging transsexual
intrigued her.

"What could be more humiliating than for a macho man having to appear in
public than that? This is really beginning to turn me on. The more I
think about it the better it gets."

Ooo

James spent the rest of the week trying to figure a way to get out of
the chastity belt. As embarrassing as it would be he made an
appointment to see a blacksmith. He figured who else had the knowledge
of metals and ability to get him out of his fix. The blacksmith lived
on a remote ranch about three hours away and most likely wouldn't know
of any of his friends. He gave a false name only revealing that he had
a chain that need to be removed. The experience was more humiliating
than he thought and the results even worse. The chain was fastened too
tightly for the smith to get any of his cutting instruments in a
position to sever them. The cylindrical shaped lock was too small to
brace for a chisel to break. It was obvious the smith was holding back
his laughter as he told James that he had to have the combination.

"Look Mr. Madison, the only thing I can tell you is do whatever your
boy..er girlfriend says. Until she releases you, I'm afraid you're
stuck," the smith said grinning widely.

"It was my girlfriend! Errrrr she...she caught me cheating," he responded
not wanting to make his embarrassment any worse.

He had caught more ******** derogatory comments already this week over
his brightly painted lips and missing brows than he wanted. He hoped
that they would stop giving him shit and bought his explanation of a
bar-b-que accident and girlfriend's joke. The idea that anyone
thought he was a homosexual made him ill. He hated ******s but smart
enough to know to be politically correct. Giving up all hope of getting
the device off by himself, he had only one choice left.

Friday afternoon he called the number on the note. He was surprised to
hear a woman's voice answer but started demanding that the belt be
removed. He didn't get six words out before the line went dead. He
redialed and got the same response. Deciding that making demands wasn't
going to work, he started his next connection with, "Please Mistress."

"You are a slow learner but maybe there is hope for you yet. I know why
you are calling and if, and I say if, you respond correctly I just may
help you out. So let me tell you the rules. You will always refer to
me as Mistress. You will do exactly what I demand happily and
obediently or you will never hear from me again. You will never be free
until you have fully completed the tasks I have set for you. Finally, I
don't give a damn if you ever get out of that chastity. Now for the
first order of business, I want you to make an appointment to have your
body except for your head to be waxed clean of all body hair including
your groin. You will set up monthly appointments to get your body
waxed. I also want the name and contact number of the technician. You
have until Saturday evening to get that done and send me a picture.
I'll text you my email. Until then, I don't want to hear another word
except 'yes Mistress.'"

As the line disconnected, James stood open mouthed trying to make sense
of what he had just been told. The buzzing of his cell telling him that
a text had been received.

Ooo

Saturday afternoon James glowed pink but not from the residual effects
of a full body waxing. He had never been as embarrassed or humiliated
as when the very pretty young woman striped him of his body hair. It
had taken all her will power not to break out laughing when she saw his
chastity but it was obvious to James. It had been bad when he walked
into the salon. His pink lips drawing attention but having a woman he
would love to date see his privates almost made him want to die. He was
still blushing as he took his naked picture, downloaded and sent it
along with the contact information.

"OMG! I just hope this is enough and she'll free me. I have never been
so mortified," he thought as he pressed the send button.

It wasn't long before he received an email. "Very good, now for your
second task, go to a fine lingerie store and replace all of your boxers,
y-fronts and undershirts with the laciest and silkiest most colorful
panties and matching camisoles. Once you have made your purchase, you
will cut your male undies in half. Display your shredded male clothing
and your new ones. Take pictures and send them to me. You have until
Monday to complete this assignment or else. Beginning Tuesday morning
and every day thereafter you will take a picture wearing your new
lingerie and send it to me. Additionally, when home you will only wear
your lingerie and nothing else. I will be randomly calling and you will
respond with another picture of you in your lingerie from your cell. If
you even think of putting on your old men's wear you will never be free.
P.S. You will tell the clerk that you are buying them for yourself. You
will provide me with the clerk's name and contact number. Mistress."

"Oh shit!" was all he could say slumping in his chair.

The only good thing about Monday was that the pink lipstick had finally
faded away. It was about an hour before the store closed and James
didn't see but a few people moving around in the shop. Nervously he
stepped through the doors and approached a clerk. It took him several
seconds to regain his composure as he asked her for help selecting
panties and camisoles.

"How sweet, are you buying them for your girlfriend? Do you know her
size?" the cute brunette asked.

His forehead broke out in a sweat as the moment he feared arrived. "Err
no Miss. Th.....there fo...for me."

"For you? Oh my gosh! I've heard about guys like you but you're my
very first. Gee, yeah, sure, no big deal. I get a commission either
way. Come on this way and I'll measure you," she replied louder than he
would have liked.

"I've heard the girls talking about these freaks but I never thought one
would come to me. Gee, to think I though he was kinda hot when he
walked in. Well maybe I can have some fun with this anyway," she
thought leading him to a changing booth.

In the booth she had him drop his pants so she could get an accurate
measurement of his waist and hips. Blushing scarlet he pushed his pants
down just below his hips praying that she wouldn't notice the device.
It was not to be as measuring his hips the back of her hand brushed his
boxer covered groin.

"Oh my, what's this," she said brazenly pressing her palm against his
groin.

He reacted automatically and slapped her hand away, his mouth working
but nothing coming out.

"Yo...you hit me. Now I'm calling security," the clerk said moving to the
curtained doorway.

"No, no please, please don't, I'm sorry. It was just a reaction. I
didn't mean to.....," he plead.

"Okay but you're gonna drop those boxers and let me get a good look at
what you're hiding down there," she demanded.

James finally left the store carrying several large pink bags. His face
an even darker shade than the bags he was carrying. He not only had the
most feminine panties and matching camisoles but half a dozen matching
garter belts and four dozen pairs of thigh high nylons in various shades
and colors. The experience was more humiliating than his salon visit.
Not only did she insist that he buy the additional items but had one of
her friends help. He was just lucky that she didn't insist on him
buying the matching bras. When he had asked for her full name and
store's contact number, she absolutely refused.

"You think that I would ever want to go out with a pervert like you?
No, I like real men, you sicko," she replied when asked.

His humiliation was complete as he broke down and told her that his
girlfriend wanted to confirm his purchases. The only way the clerk
would give him what he needed was if he made those additional and
expensive purchases. Totally mortified and his bank account seriously
diminished he left as quickly as he could.

Tears flooded his eyes as he cut all his men's underwear into pieces.
"I don't want to do this but I can always replace them later. Damn! I
hope when I send her the picture of these and my new underwear she'll
stop all this. I don't know how much more of this humiliation I can
stand."

He was standing in a pair of emerald green nylon tap panties with two
inches of white lace on the leg hems and the matching white lace
lavished camisole as the flash went off. He uploaded the pictures and
plead to be released. He begged forgiveness for whatever she thought he
had done. There was no forth coming reply.

Ooo

Tuesday he received four phone calls demanding a picture be sent. Three
of those calls came while he was at work. Scared shitless he made his
way into the men's restroom, entered a stall and stripped. If one of
his co-workers came in and caught him wearing panties and camisole his
life would become a living hell.

"My life is already a living hell but if someone sees the flash as I
take this picture I'm doomed. Even if I can get out of here without
being discovered, I'll be labeled a pervert. Who the hell, besides a
perv would take pictures inside a damn stall anyway?"

Wednesday he received one of his calls while in a committee meeting. It
was embarrassing having to ask to be excused but he only had ten minutes
to send the photo or else. The rest of the week wasn't any better but
he was happy to see the weekend arrive. He held a vague hope that after
being forced to wear panties and camisoles for a week she would let him
go. Those hopes were dashed when he received a new text.

"You were very good this week. Now for your third task, I have made you
an appointment at Sally's Nails for 10:00 a.m. When you arrive tell the
manicurist that you want glamour length nails and fuchsia your preferred
color for both your fingers and toes. Before you leave purchase a nail
care kit and bottle of varnish as you will be keeping your nails pretty
for me. Don't disappoint and don't forget to send me pictures by noon.
Mistress

Sally's Nails was located in an upscale shopping center not too far from
his apartment. It was a place frequented by many of his fellow
apartment dwellers and he was very nervous as he neared the doorway.
There were a lot of people moving around in the hallway but only one
customer in the shop. Swallowing what pride he still had walked up to
the receptionist saying he had an appointment. Almost immediately a
very pretty Viet Namese girl showed him to her station. When he told
what he wanted she burst out in giggles making him blush a brighter
shade of pink.

"You're joking, right?" she replied smiling.

"N....no...I'm...serious n...an..and want them...them and my toes..toes
pain...painted fuch...fuchsia," he stuttered while thinking, "OMG! Please
don't make a scene this is humiliating enough."

"You want me to give you nail extensions and varnish them fuchsia?" she
asked much too loudly drawing the attention of all the women in the
shop.

"Please, not so loud and yes that's what I want," he replied almost in a
panic.

"Okay, you weird but I do," she answered with a sneer.

He had no idea what fuchsia or glamour length meant but seeing one inch
long bright pink oval finger nails was more information than he wanted.
As he paid and tipped the manicurist his face matched the color of his
nails. He curled his right hand as tightly as he could with the long
nails as he left the shop. The bright blue bag with Sally's Salon
printed in white letters was too big to stuff into his jeans pockets.

Almost immediately he discovered what a pain long fingernails can be
when he tried to ball his hand into a fist or hold the steering wheel.
"Crap! How the hell can I do anything with these talons? OMG! She
doesn't plan on me keeping these things when I go to work, can she?"

Of course his worst fears were realized but she did allow him to remove
the polish when at work. He was required to paint them as soon as he
arrived home and send a picture from his cell. The difficulties of
having long nails were driving him crazy. Even simple tasks like
securing buttons or picking up objects took a major effort. Trying to
keep them from being discovered by his workmates was mind numbing. Some
how he managed to get through the work week without any comments.

Ooo

Friday when he arrived home, he quickly stripped down to his pink with
white daisy appliqué nylon panties and matching camisole before sitting
down to do his nails. When his nails dried he checked his email. He
was surprised that Mistress hadn't sent him any new tasks. At first he
was happy but then started to worry.

"She didn't send me any new instructions? I hope that means this is all
she wanted. Yeah, she's humiliated the hell out of me so maybe now I
can get out of this damn thing. I'm hornier than I've ever been and
think if I don't get some relief soon my balls are going to burst. Damn
that woman!"

He didn't hear anything that weekend nor the following week but he did
send some pictures on a daily basis. He thought about stopping, getting
rid of those ridiculous nails and buying some new underwear but decided
to play it safe. Just because he didn't hear from her didn't mean he
was off the hook but it gave him hope.

Friday he turned down the offer to have some drinks using another flimsy
excuse. Thanks to his long nails and lingerie he had to sever all of
his outside activities. The only good thing about his week was that his
buddies hadn't noticed his long nails although a couple of girls at the
office did mention it. His excuse was that he lost a bet with his
girlfriend. He had no idea how long "his girlfriend" excuses were going
to work but couldn't think of anything better.

James didn't like the feeling of exposure wearing just his panties and
camisoles. Having to paint his nails when he got home didn't ease those
feelings. He wasn't sure of what he would do if someone, especially the
landlord or one of his friends from work knocked on his door but he
didn't dare stop. His balls were aching for release. He had been an
avid masturbator and popular with the ladies. Going so long without
relief was madding. When his nails dried he turned on his computer with
hopes that there would be a message from Mistress telling him he was
free. There was indeed a message from Mistress and as he read it his
eyes bulged out in disbelief.

"I talked with Doris the woman who waxed your body at the salon and made
an appointment for you Saturday morning at seven o'clock. She has
agreed to open early so you can have your hair styled. Isn't that sweet
of her? So I better hear that you had a happy smile on your face. I
told her what I wanted and you will comply with whatever she tells you
enthusiastically. Make sure you thank her profusely and leave a good
tip. I look forward to seeing your picture. Mistress."

James managed to keep a smile on his face at the salon but as he walked
out the door shed some tears. Doris had dyed his hair a brassy blonde
and set in a mullet style. Making matters worse she had back combed and
teased it. The style was bad enough but no real man would have that
color. She added to his monthly waxing appointment another set and
style. Doris wasn't all that happy about opening so early but what she
charged and the tip was more than worth it.

"At first I though he was being blackmailed when I saw that chastity
thing but when I did that dye job and cut he seemed so happy. Like they
say 'it takes all types'. He must be gayer than a three dollar bill,"
Doris thought as he walked out the door.

When he arrived back at his apartment there was a box sitting by his
door. Taking it inside he opened it and found a lavender organza with
pink floral lace trimmed apron. A note on top written in letters cut
from magazines stated, "A gift from Mistress So far you have done well
Wear this when home and doing your chores I think a nice thank you is
in order when you send me a picture of your new hair style and wearing
my gift."

"OMG! The bitch knows where I live. Shit!" he yelled slamming his
fists down on the kitchen table.

When he regained control of his emotions took the obligatory picture.
Before he sent it begged her to stop torturing him and he would pay her
whatever she wanted if she would let him out of his chastity. He did
remember to end it with, "Thank you so very much for the beautiful
apron." It wasn't long before he had a reply and it wasn't what he
hoped for.

"No you cannot get a haircut and you still have tasks to complete if you
ever want out of chastity. As punishment for insolence you will wear
your fuchsia nail polish to work and I better not find out that you
covered your pretty hair. I will be checking up on you. I know where
you live. I know where you work. I will call or come by for a visit at
any time day or night. Mistress."

"I'm so fucked," he said as tears filled his eyes.

Ooo

Needless to say James' appearance at the office caused a major stir and
his boss called him in wanting an explanation. He doubted that his lost
bet excuse would work but what choice did he have. If he told the truth
he would be stuck for life. He was right. The boss didn't look like he
believed his story but told him that the company had a strict anti-
harassment policy.

"James, I certainly don't approve of what you have done to yourself but
the firm has a strict anti-harassment policy and acceptance of differing
life styles. So it doesn't matter what I think and if anyone gives you
any problems let me know. I'll send out a reminder notification. Now
get back to work."

He was both relieved that he wasn't going to be fired yet upset that now
everyone would probably think he was gay. The firm's affirmative action
policy wouldn't guarantee he would still have friends. Worse, any one
trying to make friends with him would probably be gay. He hated
homosexuals. He wouldn't have to hear any more derogatory comments
either but that didn't ease his humiliation. He could still see the
disgust in their eyes whenever they met to discuss business. He would
be tolerated but that would be the best he could expect while at the
office.

He was surprised that Jake and William his two best friends grudgingly
accepted his story of a bet gone horribly wrong. They tried their best
to get him to stop but he told them losing would be too costly. Not
accepting their offer to meet Friday for drinks didn't help.

Friday evening he had the expected email. "Very good and I loved the
pictures. Now for your next task, tomorrow you will go to a thrift
store and purchase the following:

3 pairs of stretchy Capri's in bright colors or floral designs. They
must be skin tight
2 pairs of satin flare legged slacks, one in purple the other black
again must be tight fitting
5 satin or silky polyester floral blouses
1 pair of black pointed toe women's flats
1 pair of 2 inch stack heeled red pumps
1 pair of silver or gold three inch spike heeled strappy sandals
12 pair of panty hose in various shades

You have until noon to send me pictures wearing the Capri pants with a
blouse and 2 inch heeled pumps. Mistress."

"As if I didn't look fruit enough with this fucking hair and nails, how
much more of this can I take?"

The trip to the thrift store wasn't so bad. He arrived as soon as it
opened and the only customer. He was greeted as he walked in by a
grandmotherly looking woman. She introduced herself as Betty and the
proprietor of the shop.

"Oh dear another one of those poor souls that believes he was born in
the wrong body. I've had more than my share come into my place but a
sale is a sale," she thought then brightly smiling said, "Hello dear,
I'm Betty and own this shop. How can I help you today?"

"Errr..hello...I...I need this," he replied nervous but determined to get
his odorous task completed handing her the list.

He walked out of the store with a minimum amount of embarrassment.
Betty didn't take long to find the items in question smiling and
courteous as she found his sizes. She didn't bat an eye when he asked
if he could try them on directing him to the change room. It would be
humbling but he had to make sure the pants were skin tight as directed.
Wearing a pair of white Capri's with bright floral decorations running
up the legs he blushed at seeing how prominent the crotch bulged out and
how big his ass looked. The back seam dug deeply into his ass crack
separating and plumping up his derriere. It also dug into his groin
mashing his balls painfully.

Betty saw him grimace in pain as he turned around looking at his
reflection. "Excuse me dear, you know I've helped others with that same
problem. If you don't mind a bit of advice get a larger size or a
girdle. I'll try to be delicate but you need to push your testicles
back up inside your body if you insist on that tight of fit. My
customers told me that with a good support garment the pain goes away.
I'm so sorry if I embarrassed you but would you like me to fetch a
girdle to try?"

That was humiliating but she sounded very sincere and only trying to
help. If he had to wear this stuff he figured he might as well be
comfortable. "Ye...yes...errr...please," he answered.

She returned with three girdles in hand and a small plastic container of
baby powder. "I could only find three in your size dear but it's all I
have at the moment. Why don't you take them and give it a try. They're
rubber lined like most vintage girdles so use this baby powder to make
putting it on easier."

Back in the change room he examined the girdles more closely. One was
muted white with a bright satin diamond front panel stitched with silver
thread in a floral pattern. The second was purple but the same style
and the third was yellow but had mid-thigh length legs. He decided to
put on the white girdle as it was the least feminine looking.

He had never heard of pushing up his balls and stood uncertain as how to
do it. "Dear, use the palm of your hand and push up gently," he heard
through the curtained doorway.

James grimaced as his balls popped back up inside but the horrible pain
he was expecting never materialized. As quickly as he could tugged the
girdle up his legs and wiggling his butt got it settled around his
waist. Its tight constriction felt weird but his front was flatter when
he stepped back into the Capri's.

The thrift store didn't carry hosiery so had to stop at a d**g store on
the way home to purchase the required panty hose. Betty had told him
what size he would need and explained how to put them on before donning
the girdle. The girl at the d**g store counter looked at him funny but
didn't comment as she rang up his purchases. It was just another day
to her but another humbling one for James.

Back at his place he changed out of his male attire and put on the ecru
panty hose, white girdle, white Capri's with the floral design, black
with bright pink daffodil imprinted polyester cap sleeved blouse and
black flats. Taking several pictures emailed them to Mistress. It
didn't take long before he received a response.

"How perfectly lovely, that outfit is definitely you. Now I have
another assignment for you to complete today. Buy enough web cameras so
that I will be able to observe you wherever you are in the apartment.
Make sure they are high resolution. Go as you are dressed right now.
You have two hours to purchase and install them or you can forget about
getting free. I recommend you buy the wifi wireless low light ones.
Mistress.

James sat in disbelief as he read and re-read the message. "OMG! She
has to be shitting me! I can't possibly go out looking like this!
Hasn't she humiliated me enough already?"

"Mistress: Please I'll do anything. I can't go anywhere looking like
this. Haven't you done enough to me? I'm already a laughing stock at
my office. Please don't make me do this," he replied.

"I can't see why you are complaining. You look very sweet in that
outfit. Besides I still have a few more tasks for you to complete. You
have one hour and forty-five minutes left. You better hurry."

"That bitch!" he screamed reading the email.

He was seen by several others as he left his apartment complex and even
more in the crowded electronics store. The clerk that waited on him had
a hard time not laughing and had a look that said, "Why do I get all the
crackpots."

The cameras put a very serious dent into his credit card but had them
installed and operating with fifteen minutes to spare. The shopping
experience was the worst day of his life and fortunately most people
just had a good laugh at his expense. He did receive some derogatory
slurs but not many. His face was flushed all the way home and it took
all his will power not to cry.

"Very good my pet, the camera views are excellent but you seem to have
forgotten to put one in your bathroom. Do it now."

"My bathroom?" he quickly replied while thinking, "She got to leave me
some privacy."

"Yes! Now!"

"That's much better pet. From now on I want you wearing one of your new
outfits every day when you are not at work. Yes even if you have to go
out on an errand. By the way I must compliment you on taking the
initiative and buying a girdle. The girdle lines make your ass so sexy
in those tight pants. Make sure you keep wearing them all the time just
like your pretty panties and camisoles. While I'm at it you forgot to
polish your nails when you came home. As punishment you will also wear
your new panty hose to work and I want you to buy a pretty pink lipstick
to match your polish. I believe you have another errand to run dear.
I'll give you an hour to make that purchase. Oh you might want to pick
up a nice purse while you are out. Your new pants don't have any
pockets and you need someplace to put your cell, wallet, keys and
lipstick. I'd hate it if you missed one of my calls but not nearly as
much as you will. Mistress"

Ooo

A sharp pain coming from his entrapped penis woke James up early
Saturday morning. "Damn that woman! I've got to get this thing off.
Every time I get a woody it hurts like hell down there. Gawd! I need
relief so friggin bad."

Giving up on trying to get back to sleep he got out of bed and headed to
the kitchen to make coffee. Other than his chastity he was completely
naked. He hated wearing panties and all the other feminine crap but at
least he could sleep naked. With coffee in hand he went to check his
emails like Mistress instructed him to do first thing every morning.
After yesterday's humiliations he was hoping she would leave him alone.
Again, no such luck.

"You disappointed me this morning. Why aren't you wearing your panties
and camisole? Mistress"

"Crap, I forgot the friggin cameras," he thought before typing, "I like
to sleep in the nude."

"That just won't do. Today I want you to dress in your nicest satin
pants and that lovely baby blue satin blouse with the red pumps. Go
back to that lingerie store and buy three girly-girl negligee sets. No
pajamas, nothing in cotton only the softest nylon or silk will do for
you. Don't forget to wear your new lipstick or that I am watching you.
Mistress."

Mumbling curse words James went to the bathroom to clean up with hopes
that he could get this task done with a minimum of embarrassment. It
took him less than twenty minutes to finish up and was stepping into a
pair of silver nylon tap panties with two inches of floral lace trim at
the leg hems when his cell rang.

"Check your email," was all Mistress said.

"Crap! What the hell does she want now?"

Slipping on the silky matching cami headed back to his computer.
Opening the email let out a groan as he read, "You have a horrible
morning toilet routine. While you are out pick up the following items:
1. Dove moisturizing soap
2. Lavender scented bath beads
3. Pink bulb syringe (you'll find that in the feminine hygiene aisle)
4. Panty liners (same place in store)
5. Lavender scented body talc
6. Once you have all these items in your basket go to cosmetics counter.
Ask the clerk to assist you in finding a selection of facial cleansing
and moisturizing products. Have her recommend a good skin care
instruction book.

Have a nice day. Mistress
P.S. Almost forgot you need to hand wash your panties, camisoles,
hosiery and girdles each night. They are too delicate to put in the
washer so buy some Woolite."

He went back to his bedroom to finish dressing his face flushed. "Damn
that woman! It will be bad enough having to go back and face that clerk
in the lingerie store but now this. I hate what she is making me do. I
have to get this chastity off but how much more humiliation can I
stand?"

He removed the purple girdle and black panty hose from his dresser and
put them on. The purple satin flare legged low rider slacks zipped up
the side hugging his skin before loosening up just above the knee. The
baby blue satin blouse was fairly plain with a pointed high collar and
long sleeves. He had some trouble with the red pumps as he wasn't use
to the heel. The heels threw his balance off forcing him to hold his
shoulders back.

"Here it is Saturday morning probably the busiest shopping day of the
week and I have to go out looking like this. People are going to think
I'm the world's biggest flaming ******. If that woman wanted to
humiliate me she's already royally succeeded. So how much further is
she going to take this? I don't know if I can endure much more but I
just have to get her to release me. This friggin chastity is killing
me."

























Big Fat Bertha Lou Part 2

Big Fat Bertha Lou Part 2

The girl that waited on him before found it extremely difficult to not
laugh at the very camp looking James. Once he left with his expensive
purchases, she laughed along with the other people until she had tears
in her eyes. As for James he was just happy to get that task finished
but his embarrassment was not over. The clerk had insisted on leaving
the negligees on hangers protecting them with a clear plastic cover.
Everyone in the busy mall would see him and what he carried. By the
time he arrived at his car his face was flaming hot.

The next stop at a d**g store far from his apartment was worse. There
was no hiding the douche kit or the package of panty liners. He was
very uncomfortable just being in the feminine hygiene aisle. He
circled the area several times waiting for two women to leave. He had
to really look to find the box marked "Bulb Syringe," open it to make
sure it was pink. He looked nervously around as he did that making
sure no one saw him. His face flushed brighter as he noticed the
camera dome above the aisle. Adding to his humiliation the clerk at
the cosmetics aisle gave him a funny look as she led him to the skin
care area. He expected to only make three or four purchases but she
loaded his cart with a lot more including cotton balls and pads.

"I can check you out over here. Love the color of your nails honey but
I got a new one in the other day that all the GIRLS just love. Do you
want me to get you a bottle? It's called Fabulous Maraschino but we
GIRLS just call it fuck me red. I bet it would drive your BOYFRIEND
wild," she said emphasizing the words "girls" and "boyfriend."

When a blushing James insisted that he didn't have a boyfriend, the
girl gave him a smug smile. "Look, I get a commission on cosmetic
sales and you bought a lot. So in case you want to impress a guy, I'll
toss in a bottle no charge."

James couldn't get out of that d**g store fast enough. "OMG! What a
friggin day. The only good thing was I didn't run into anyone I knew.
Shit! If that happened...I don't know what I would do."

When he got back home the parking lot was full and he had to park
further away than he wanted. It was windy and as he tried to make his
way discreetly, the colorful nightgowns plus the rustling of the
plastic covers drew attention. One arm held the night gowns over one
shoulder and his other full of bags from the d**g store. He had no way
to keep them from fluttering up into the air.

A beautiful brunette that he had hit on at the pool and wanted to date
saw him. "Is that you James?"

She was about twenty yards away and figured if he kept moving he could
get away. He could always deny it was him later provided she didn't
give chase. He held the nighties up covering his face as he walked
faster towards his place. Fortunately she kept on going but three
doors down from his place two men walked out of theirs right in front
of him.

He tried to rush past when one of them said, "Hey, aren't you James
from 116?"

"Crap! Those are the two ******s and the last people I wanted to see.
Crap! My day couldn't get any worse," he thought then said, "No, you
got the wrong guy. Gotta rush."

He walked past his own place, made a left back into the complex
intending to go to his back door. His luck didn't get any better as
the back of his apartment opened to the common area where the pool was.
It was Saturday and the area packed with people. He fumbled with the
black leather purse he had purchased at the mall, found his keys and
slammed the door shut as quickly as he could. He stood for several
minutes with his back pressed against the door, a cold sweat on his
forehead and his heart pounding.

"Damn it!" he shouted out in frustration.

Back in his bedroom he spread the first nightie out on his bed. It was
a frilly baby doll powder pink two layered nylon and chiffon with a
sheer pink robe dripping with pink satin ribbons and lots of pink lace
detailing. Unlike the others, this one came with a pair of matching
pink lace ruffled bloomer styled panties. Even he had to admit that
the second was gorgeous. It was a mid-calf length deep chocolate
sensuous nylon with a rounded collar with thin braided satin straps.
The semi-sheer matching negligee had balloon sleeves with vertical rows
of white lace coming together to form three tiers of over lapping lace
cuffs. It tied at the neck with a chocolate satin ribbon with the
front seams trimmed in white floral lace. The hem had four inches of
white lace decoration interspaced with dark chocolate satin ribbon
bows. The third matched the dark chocolate one except it was in a rich
plum color.

As he stepped back from his bed his cell rang. "They are simply
darling. I can't wait to see you in them. Go ahead and do it while I
watch. These cameras you bought are good but I would love to actually
see you in them."

"I'd rather not. It's been a fucking horrible day and to make matters
worse those two queer neighbors saw me. Look, just let me relax for a
friggin minute and I'll do what you ask. My damn nerves are shot.
Just not right now please."

"It looks to me like you had a wonderful day seeing those lovely gowns.
So what did your neighbors have to say? By the way, you cuss and use
vulgar words way too much. I'm going to have to correct that
immediately. From now on for every cuss word or vulgarity I hear, you
get one demerit. Collect ten demerits and you will be wearing
something more feminine to the office. So far you have earned four.
Going to try for more? Now tell me what they said to you."

"You don't think I would stop and actually talk to them, do you? They
make me sick. Four demerits? You just told me about them. You can't
fri..do that...that's not fair."

"You forget yourself! Who do you think is in charge here? I am and
you will do everything I tell you or you can forget about ever getting
out of that chastity. That's five demerits even if you didn't finish
saying the word. Now shut up and put on one of those gowns. Put me on
speaker phone so I can tell you what I think.

He was wearing the plum colored set when his doorbell rang. He ignored
it. "Aren't you going to answer the door?" came from his cell sitting
on the dresser.

"Like this? Not on your frig....errr..no of course not."

"That's another demerit. Now go see who it is and be polite. Take the
phone with you so I can listen in," she ordered as the bell rang again.

"Please don't make me open the door. I beg you, please, anything,
anything but this. It's that fag...gay guy from down the hall," he
gasped looking through the peep hole.

"That's seven and you will open the door and be real nice or you'll
never hear from me again."

James cracked open the door revealing just his head. "Yes, what do you
want?"

"James, right, well I'm Stephen from 120 and wanted to come say hello.
I thought maybe now that you've come out of the closet we could be
friends."

What he wanted to say was totally different than what he actually said.
"Yeah sure, come on in."

"Oh my, what a beautiful gown and I must say it looks gorgeous on you.
I must confess from seeing you in the past I never would have guessed.
You were so nasty to me and Gerald but now.....all I can say is wow.
While Gerald and I aren't into fem play, I'm stunned, simply stunned by
you. So macho before and so sweet looking now, what a contrast and I
love the change. I know it's so very difficult coming out and we saw
the fear in your eyes when you rushed past us earlier. I've done some
counseling at the LGBT center and want to help if I can. As a matter
of fact the center is having a social tonight. Why don't you come with
me and Gerald? I think it would be very beneficial and it really
helped me to know that I'm not alone."

James was fuming on the inside and it took all his will power not to
mash in the ******'s face. "Like I want to be his friend, much less go
to any fucking center and they're all a bunch of perverts and sickos.
Damn, I want to knock that smile off his face so bad but have to play
nice. Shit!"

He was about to reply when he heard, "Let me talk to him and take it
off speaker" coming from his cell. Reluctantly he handed his cell to
Stephen. It seemed to be a one sided conversation and the only thing
he could make of it was Stephen's broadening smile.

"Oh yes, I'll be more than happy to do that," Stephen said then handed
the phone back to James.

"I told him that I was your ther****t. You're not smiling or looking
happy so change the attitude and accept the invitation. Make sure you
give him a hug before he leaves."

Ooo

Per instructions James took his first bubble bath in decades using
plenty of the lavender bath beads and oil. He had already douched and
the bath did nothing to ease his mortification. Mistress was watching
everything he did and providing instructions via his cell. In the
process he had earned more demerits and would be wearing lipstick to
work on Monday.

Back in his bedroom he was told to put on his red lingerie but skip the
girdle. For outer wear he wore his pink Capri's with white floral
design around the cuffs and Hawaiian floral styled polyester blouse.
Dressed, he removed the pink polish and replaced it with the new
Maraschino varnish and freshened his pink lipstick.

Slipping into his silver three inch spiked heels for the first time he
almost toppled over. Mistress had to tell him to plant his toe first
and take small heel and toe steps. It took him half an hour to walk
without having to grab hold of something and another half to manage in
his heels. His experience with the two inch heels of his pumps helped.
After another half hour, if he took his time, did reasonably well.

At seven, he grabbed his purse and went to meet Stephen and Gerald. By
this time he had already gathered another five demerits and couldn't
afford another punishment. Mistress told him he would be wearing his
new pants to work if he did. There was no way she could monitor him
while with the ******s so he hoped to find an out of the way spot to
hide in.

Bertha Lou watched her computer screen as James followed her orders
smiling broadly. "That bastard made my last two years of high school a
living hell. By the time I'm through with him he'll never humiliate
another person. Oh no, he's going to be on the receiving end from now
on in more ways than one. I told that nice Stephen that James needed
strong guidance as he comes out. It seems James lapses into denial
about being gay. So I asked Stephen to find him a dominant male to
take his cherry. Once he has had a real life sexual encounter, James
would never think about going back. I assured him that it was
necessary for James to acknowledge his true sexual leanings. Having a
dominant lover who loved effeminate men and willing to keep James on
his true path might be life saving. Of course I added that James'
denial might surface but to ignore such protests as they would only be
a façade. I'm sure Stephen believed all that nonsense and I'd give
anything to be a fly on the wall at that social."

James was sitting in the back seat of Stephen's Mini-cooper when his
cell rang. Letting out a soft groan he answered his Mistress' call.
"Having fun yet my pet? I know I am and just wanted you to know that I
will be checking up on you tonight. When I call you had better be
socializing with someone as I will want to talk to them. So, if you
know what's good for you, be real nice and pleasant."

James' face was ashen as he put the phone back into his purse. "OMG!
What if someone hits on me? I don't have any desire to mix with these
wacko's but I have to. Shit! I'm even going to have to act like I'm
enjoying it."

The social was held at some rich fag's mansion and there were about
thirty people already there when they arrived. Stephen made sure to
introduce him to everyone and letting them know he was just coming out.
Being the new person everyone wanted to talk and learn more about him.
Other than one other man he was the most flamboyantly dressed at the
meeting. The lesbians were pleasant to him but didn't stay to talk
long. He could handle the lesbians but the men lingered much too long
and much too touchy feely for comfort. The other man who was dressed
in full drag queen attire was by far the worse. It seemed like he had
to reach out and pat James on the cheek or arm with every other word.
He was talking to Bruce when his cell rang. He wanted to move away to
answer but remembered her warning that she wanted to talk to whoever he
was with.

"Well my pet, are you having a wonderful time? No? That's not the
answer I wanted to hear so add another demerit. Now tell me you are
having a delightful time. That's much better. Are you with someone?
You are. Well what's his name? Bruce, see if he will let you take his
picture on your cell and send it to me. My, he's ruggedly handsome
isn't he? Let me talk to him."

James couldn't hear much of what they talked about. There was no
telling what lies Mistress was saying to Bruce but judging by the smile
on his face, it wouldn't be good for him. All he could do was stand
shifting on his aching feet until Bruce handed him the phone.

"Bruce seems to be a very nice man. Invite him over to your place for
Sunday supper. Remember be real nice and polite and I better see him
there. I'll call back later."

By the time the social ended James was a nervous wreck. Bruce stayed
by his side the whole night and even kissed him when he had to leave.
James was caught completely off guard when Bruce pulled him into his
massive chest and shoved his tongue down James' throat. He had also
signed up for membership in the club, promised to make the meetings,
wear the rainbow pin and had a date for Sunday night. Stephen said
they could car pool to the Friday evening meetings. Making matters
worse, Stephen stuck a rainbow decal on the back of James' car when
they got home.

His legs and feet were screaming in agony as he entered his apartment.
All he wanted to do was get out of those heels, out of the ridiculous
clothing and get a stiff drink. He did get out of the clothing but was
now wearing his powder pink baby doll and silver strappy sandals.
Mistress told him to wear the shoes whenever he was home as he needed
to get accustomed to them. She did let him have his much needed drink.
He wanted to drink the entire bottle to forget the day but only one
then off to bed.

Ooo

He didn't have a good nights sleep and awoke grumpy and his penis
hurting. With coffee in hand he went to check his email expecting only
the worse. Sure enough Mistress had things for him to do. He had to
go to the grocery to get something nice for dinner. Well nice for
Bruce he was going to have to settle for a small piece of Salmon. Last
week Mistress had put him on a vegan type of diet that included a lot
of fish but not any type of meat. Gone was his beer, sweets and chips
as well. He also had to get a nice table cloth, a candle and cute
candle holder. As long as he was shopping for a nice table cloth she
said to pick up a pink satin quilted comforter and pink linens and some
doilies to put on the back and arms of his sofa and living room chairs.
While at the grocery he also had to get floral scented plug-ins for
every outlet in the house.

"Damn it, it's bad enough that I have to dress like a ****** now she
wants my apartment looking and smelling like one. Is she ever going to
stop screwing up my life?"

He decided to get the linens first before heading to the grocery. Both
excursions embarrassing and drew a lot of attention. He really
couldn't blame people from looking dressed like he was. Mistress had
insisted that he wear the flaming orange stretch pants with and equally
bright purple with white floral decoration polyester blouse and his
three inch heels.

When James returned to his place there was another package sitting by
his door. Opening it he found a dozen gay porn DVDs and a note
reading, "Place these where they can be easily seen. If your date asks
to put one on do so. You better act like you enjoy it BUT him even
more. If you put on a very good show for me, I may consider freeing
you. Mistress"

"OMG! If Bruce sees these....shit....after kissing me....he'll....man I don't
want to go there....but...I might have to if it means she'll finally free
me. Once I get out of this damn chastity I can get my life back
but....damn at what cost?"

The table cloth was white cotton with a pink boarder and his stomach
churned as he spread it on the table. He placed the pink crystal rose
candle holder in the center and pressed the white vanilla scented
candle in the hole. Finding the package with the matching cotton
napkins he carefully folded then put two out next to the pink place
mats. With the table set, he put the white lace doilies out on the
sofa and chair then replaced his bed linens with the new pink ones.

Stepping back he let out a heavy sigh, "This is worse than I thought.
No guy has this much fucking pink or the smell of flowers in his
bedroom. Oh well nothing for it now better check my email. No doubt
she has more shit for me," he thought.

"Pet: I know you will just love my present but I've been thinking. So
instead of s**ttering those around I want you to put "Cock Whore" into
your DVD and play it after dinner. I'm positive you will find it both
entertaining and educational."

"I like what you have done to your room and the dinning room. It's so
you don't you think? Maybe later you will want to paint the walls in
the bedroom a delightful powder pink but that will have to wait. It's
getting late and you need time to prepare for your date. Attached you
will find a recipe for a wonderful marinade for that steak you bought
for Bruce. Remember you are on a special diet and I will be watching.
Prepare as much of the dinner as you can now then you must get ready.
Tonight douche at least three times and use plenty of your bath beads.
Also, wear the black lingerie but skip the girdle. I think the purple
satin slacks with the flare legs and your white with floral imprinted
peasant blouse and silver sandals will be perfect. You do want to make
the right impression tonight, don't you? When Bruce leaves tonight or
in the morning I want to see him very happy. If I am satisfied with
your performance I will consider letting you free. Mistress"

"Letting me free? That's all I want but damnation what is it going to
cost me?" he thought then typed. "Alright already but you have to
promise to free me when this is over."

Almost immediately he got a reply. "You forget yourself again! You do
not tell me anything. You do as you are told! That just earned you
two more demerits and ten so far today. As punishment you will go
Monday to the Piercing Pagoda in the mall, select a pearl and a pink
zirconium stud for the double piercing. Now you've wasted enough time.
Go and get ready for your date. Your performance tonight is even more
important if you ever want out of chastity."

James was lighting the bar-b-que when the doorbell rang. Taking off
his apron as he walked through the kitchen, quickly checked his
lipstick in the hallway mirror opened the door. Bruce was holding a
bottle of wine and bunch of red roses. As he stepped through the
doorway almost filling the frame, reached out with the hand holding the
bottle taking James around the waist and pulled him close for a kiss.
When the kiss broke James wanted to rub his arm across his violated
lips but resisted the urge. Instead he took the bottle and roses with
a polite thank you before leading Bruce into the kitchen. He didn't
have a vase and used a glass water pitcher for the roses which he then
placed on the table.

Bruce was more than happy to cook his own porterhouse steak while James
finished preparing the rest of the meal. The meal was leisurely and
Bruce did most of the talking. He owned a gym and day spa where he
worked out regularly. James did his best not to tell Bruce too much
about himself but admitted he was an accountant. He also tried to draw
out the dinner for as long as possible knowing what he had to do next.

With both the food and wine consumed, he had no choice and invited
Bruce to watch a movie with him. It was obvious from the opening
credits that this movie was rated XXX and James' stomach was
threatening to upchuck his dinner. They were sitting on the sofa next
to each other. James had tried to sit further away but Bruce put his
arm over his shoulders and pulled him closer so their hips touched.
The movie opened up with a guy on his knees with the biggest cock James
had ever seen in the guy's mouth. As the movie progressed with even
more hot gay sexual activity, Bruce was becoming friendlier with James.
At first it was squeezes to the arm but soon Bruce's hand had moved
down to James' thigh. When Bruce pulled his arm from around James'
shoulders he gave him a deep wet tongue kiss. It wasn't long before
Bruce became more demanding, the kisses lasting longer and the touching
more intimate.

As they literally swapped spit, Bruce's fingers were pulling and
pinching James nipples. James was in panic mode and incapable of
fending off the advances. Bruce was too strong for him and obviously
getting very horny. The only thing keeping James from running and
screaming from the room was the promise of freedom.

"OMG! If I have to swallow anymore of his spit I'm gonna be sick. I
don't want this but got to keep my shit together if I ever want out of
this fucking chastity. I hope he'll be satisfied with just kissing and
hugging but I doubt it. With the way she made me dress and act tonight
I all but asked for him to fuck me. I don't know if I can do that but
she insisted that I make him happy or else. Crap! I've got to get
through this and do what I have to. I can't stand being in chastity
any longer. Maybe if I give him a blow job I can get this over with
quickly. I could probably forget that in time but if he puts his thing
up my ass.....man I don't want to go there."

James' thoughts became hopeful when he felt Bruce grab his hand and
place it on his crotch. "OMG! It feels like he has a baseball bat
hidden in there. Shit, maybe I'll luck out and he'll settle for a hand
job."

His hands shaking James reached over and fumbling managed to undo
Bruce's pants and pull down the zipper. Grimacing, he reached in and
pulled a fat nine inch erect penis out from the boxer shorts.

"Damn, my hand barely reaches around this monster," he said in shock
not realized he spoke out loud.

"That's right baby I got a big one and it's all for you tonight. Go
ahead and stroke it. Yeah cupcake fold back that foreskin and give it
a little kiss," Bruce ordered putting a beefy hand on the back of
James' neck and pushing.

"Just close your eyes and get this over with," James' mind screamed.

"Swallow cupcake, keep swallowing and you'll soon have it all the way
in. Relax your throat and keep swallowing. Yeah, just like that. Oh
baby, you're gonna be good with practice I just know it. Come on stay
relaxed while I pump my dick all the way in. Ahhhh, use those lips and
tongue. Oh, I gonna cum and you better swallow all of it. My cum is
just too precious to waste," Bruce encouraged as he held the sides of
James' head firmly down and pressed into his pubic hair.

He took his time slowly pumping in and out knowing that he was actually
taking James' oral cherry. That knowledge came from his conversation
with Bertha Lou and made his enjoyment all the more. Bertha Lou had
told him about the self imposed chastity, that James was a virgin and
in desperate need of a strong determined boyfriend.

Gasping for breath James jerked back from the softening pole that had
been blocking his air way. With the salty slimy taste of semen on his
lips, tongue and in his nose, he didn't have long to catch his breath
as Bruce placed another lip lock on him. With his stomach boiling and
bile rising, James managed to free himself and rushed into the bathroom
just in time. He heaved his guts out until there was nothing else to
come up. Getting up from the commode, he grabbed the bottle of mouth
wash and emptied it before washing his face. Feeling better but still
pale, he went back into the living room.

Bruce was sitting on the sofa completely nude watching the movie and
stroking his immense dick. "Crap! I was hoping he'd be ready to
leave. I need a stiff drink."

"Bruce I have some Jack Daniels do you want some?" he asked trying to
avoid going back to the sofa.

"Yeah cupcake, pour a good shot over some ice then get that pretty ass
back over here."

James grabbed the biggest tumbler he had and filled it to the brim with
the liquor but not before taking a healthy swallow from the bottle
first.

"Maybe I can get him drunk and he'll fall asleep," he thought as his
cell phone hummed to life. "It's her damn it, now what does she want?"
he thought before answering, "Yes mistress."

"Pet that was very hot. I was as impressed with Bruce's package as I
know you were. I'm willing to bet that you were jealous of it compared
to your itty bitty thing. I saw you in the bath. You poor baby you
looked so sick. It must have been from that Salmon you had for dinner
tonight. Fish spoils so easily. I'm beginning to consider removing
your device but you really really need to convince me tonight. Now fix
your lipstick and change into that cute pink baby doll nightie before
you take that drink to your boyfriend. Oh and you've already had your
drink so pour that one out you made for yourself. Pet you will want to
keep a clear head if you're going to make your boyfriend happy."

"Please Mistress don't make me put on that nightie and I really need
that drink."

"Well you can skip the nightie but he's already naked in your living
room. Do you honestly think he'll let you stay dressed when you bring
him his drink? I was just trying to be helpful pet and forget the
drink. Oh, one last thing, keep the heels, hose and garter belt on.
It makes your ass look so damn cute."

"Okay, okay I'll do it," he replied then thought, "I hope he's like
most gays and doesn't like men in women's clothing."

Ooo

"Cup cake you look fantastic in that nightie," Bruce greeted when he
returned. "I'm not like most gay men you know. I'm really turned on
by real feminine partners. Hell the only thing better in a partner is
if they had small boobs. Come on sit here on my lap until the movie is
over."

"Crap! He's probably the only gay in the city that wants another man
with tits no less. Why did I have to be talking to him when she called?
I'm gonna be sick again. This movie is disgusting. I wish she at
least had the decency to let me get drunk," he thought as the same man
giving head was now on all four getting his ass reamed out by some big
buff black dude while orally pleasuring someone else.

When the movie ended Bruce picked James up and carried him into the
bedroom. There he dropped him onto the bright pink satin comforter,
turned him over on his stomach, pulled the panties down and his ass up.

"I know you've wanted this ever since you asked me to come over cup
cake. You got any lubed condoms handy, in the bedside drawer. I'll
make this as easy as I can but you're going to have to relax that pussy
or it's really gonna hurt," he said as he rolled a red condom down his
massive shaft.

True to his word Bruce took his time slowly working his dick into
James' rosebud. Never the less it hurt like nothing had hurt before
and he screamed in pain as the head popped in. Bruce had a tight grip
on James' ass and began slowly bringing him back into his groin. He
didn't stop until his balls smashed against James' white cheeks.
Slowly at first then speeding up, he pumped pulling and pushing James'
ass until with one last deep thrust filled the condom. He crashed
exhausted on top of James pinning him to the bed. James was bawling
his eyes out and gasping from pain feeling like his ass was on fire.

When Bruce finally rolled off him, James slowly and weak kneed made his
way into the master bath. He felt like he had been split in two as a
sticky wetness dribbled down his thighs. Pulling down his panties
noticed a large wet spot on the front and realized that his penis was
burning as well.

"OMG! I came in my panties! This can't be! I'm not queer and hurt
too much," he thought as he reached between his legs to wipe away the
wetness.

Pulling the tissue away he felt something snap from his asshole. It
was the red condom. That was all it took for him to have a sever case
of the dry heaves. Getting up he grabbed a hand mirror and checked out
the damage done to his aching butt. What he saw scared him. His hole
looked swollen and distorted. There was no blood but it appeared that
some of his intestines had bulged out framing it. Putting down the
mirror went to the sink and washed his face. Looking into the mirror
he noticed several large hickies around his neck and sad and red rimmed
eyes. Grabbing the mouthwash, he gargled several times before gingerly
walking back into the bedroom. Bruce was snoring loudly but he kept on
walking finally lying down on the sofa to get some much needed sleep.

Ooo

James woke sore and stiff, his asshole still aching. Forcing himself
off the sofa went to the bedroom. Bruce was nowhere to be seen and he
breathed out in relief. The hot bubble bath felt marvelous but didn't
seem to clean the dirt off. He still felt dirty as he first
moisturized then powdered with the lavender scented talc. Every
movement made the horrible events of last night come back full force.
Pulling on a robe, he stepped into his heels and went to make some much
needed coffee. There was a note sitting on the kitchen table.

"Cup cake last night was wonderful and the sex amazing. Recommend you
have some Astroglide for me to use next time. I hate using rubbers. I
didn't want to disturb you though I was tempted you were a beautiful
sight. I'll call you later. Luv B."

"Like there's going to be a next time," James said wadding the note and
tossing it into the trash.

Grabbing his coffee went to his computer and opened his email. There
were two from Mistress waiting for him. He opened the newest one, "Pet
I saw you toss that note into the trash. I know it was from your
boyfriend so tell me what it said. Better yet get it, scan it and send
to me. Do it now!"

Mumbling cuss words under his breath retrieved the note and sent it.
While waiting for the reply, he opened the first email. "Pet I can't
begin to tell you how much I enjoyed your performance last night. It
looked like you were squealing and squirming like a pig eating slop
when Bruce rammed that big dick of his into your cute ass. I'm sorry I
couldn't hear your squeals and moans of delight. Your only task today
is to buy some of those hidden microphones and put one near your bed,
one in the kitchen and one near the sofa. You earned the first number
on the lock, (4). You only have three more to earn your freedom. How
about a great big thank you? Don't forget tomorrow you will be wearing
a pair of your satin slacks and lipstick to work because you earned
twenty demerits. Immediately after work don't forget your stop at the
Piercing Pagoda. Mistress."

"What? That's all I get! One stinking number, fuck!" he thought as he
started his reply. He didn't get far before remembering to be humble
and polite. "Mistress: Thank you so much for giving me the first
number. I beg you please to reconsider those penalties. I'll gladly
pay you whatever you want, just don't make me go to the office like
that."

It wasn't long after he sent the reply that he received a new message.
"Pet: First things first, you earned those demerits and must comply.
I don't need your money and consider your offer an insult. If you paid
me that means you think I'm a blackmailer. I'm not forcing you to do
anything. I'm only recommending tasks. Now when your boyfriend calls
I expect you to say yes if he asks you out, be really sweet. While you
are out buying those microphones you really should pick up a supply of
that personal lubricant. You're going to need it. Mistress."

Ooo

Monday he received a lot of stares from his colleagues at work. His
two best friends said hello but avoided him for the rest of the day.
Mistress had called him five times checking to make sure he had on
plenty of lipstick and wearing the correct clothing. She called again
as he was walking out of the Piercing Pagoda telling him to put his
phone on face time. She just had to see his new earrings.

"At last I get to see your fucking face. Once I find out who you are I
can stop all this bull shit," he thought but again, disappointed. She
had her finger over her camera.

"Pet those earrings are so precious looking on you. You know some men
might get away with a glittery pink stone but I can't think of any man
that would wear pearls in his ears. You are so daring pet. I have
another task for today. Wearing satin slacks with your men's shirts
and shoes doesn't seem appropriate for the office. I'm sure you were
embarrassed all day and I know you didn't like that. What you need are
some sharp looking pants suits. No need to thank me now but purchase
five outfits, one baby blue, a navy, powder pink, black pin stripe and
grey all in polyester. If you want to earn some brownie points to get
the next number of the combination buy contrasting silk blouses
preferably with a crowl neck."

She hung up before he could object. A much humbled James arrived home
with the pants suits and silk blouses. Of course Mistress wanted to
see him model each one. She loved him in the powder pink flare legged
suit and especially the cowl necked cream silk blouse.

"Pet that one really stands out. I just love it, don't you? You must
save that one for next Saturday when you go out with your boyfriend.
I'm sure he will go gaga over it. With your silver lingerie and
sandals you will really have him drooling."

"I don't have and don't want a boyfriend. I still don't feel right
about that last damn date. I'm only doing this because you have given
me no fucking choice," he replied frustrated and without thinking.

"That's two more demerits bringing your total to six for today and your
week hasn't even started. I told you no more curse words ever! Your
vocabulary needs to be as sweet as you look. No more arguments or you
get another demerit. Change into a pair of your stretch pants and a
cute blouse. As you go about doing whatever tonight I want to hear you
say over and over 'I love Bruce'. By the way those hidden microphones
work excellently. I especially love that cute little teddy bear you
put on your bedside table."

Going to work on Tuesday wearing his new baby blue pants suit and beige
silk blouse caused more of a stir than on Monday. The only male items
he had on were his loafers and socks.

"It's embarrassing to wear this but if they found out about my lingerie
and panty hose.....that would be horrible. My two buddies didn't even
say hi to me this morning. Maybe after this weekend she'll give me the
full combination then I can stop all this."

Wednesday and Thursday were no less humiliating but he endured the
looks and side comments. Wednesday night he managed to get his tenth
demerit when he forgot to say, "I love Bruce" one hundred times. That
was another task she had assigned him Monday night. Thursday morning
he found a box at his door as he was leaving for work. His stomach
sank as he read the accompanying note.

"Pet for your punishment and to erase the ten demerits, wear these to
work from now on."

Inside the shoe box was a pair of four inch pencil heeled strappy
sandals in a shiny black patent leather. "OMG! I won't be able to
walk in these things. My three inch ones are bad enough but these?" he
muttered taking off his loafers and socks.

With those shoes he had to take short mincing steps carefully placing
one foot toe first in front of the other and his back straight to
maintain his balance. He didn't realize that as he walked his ass
developed a nice sexy sway. Mistress checked up on him three times to
make sure he was wearing the shoes but otherwise left him alone for the
rest of the week. The only people that talked to him anymore at the
office were some of the secretaries. The men shunned him like the
plague.

He spent Saturday morning at the salon for a full body was, dye and
style and manicure/pedicure. That evening he was getting last minute
instructions from Bertha Lou.

"Pet remember be real sweet with your boyfriend. After all he is
taking you to a restaurant and movie. When the movie is over insist he
bring you home and spend the night. After all, I can't see or hear
what you two are up to if you're not here. If you want that second
number, make sure he agrees."

Bruce took him to a nice but not fancy Chinese place where James had
the pepper shrimp. The movie "Broke Back Mountain" he thought he would
enjoy until the gay scene started. With the movie finally over Bruce
wanted to take James to a gay bar.

"Come on Jamie it'll be fun and besides I want to show off my new
partner."

"Bruce you know I don't drink much an....and...be...besides...I...I planned on...on
taking you...you home."

"I promise we won't stay long. Come on it will be fun."

"Oh shit, if I don't get him home soon Mistress will be pissed and
probably no matter what I do, she won't give me that next number," he
thought before replying even though he hated what he had to say. "But
I got that lubricant you said to get and can...can't wait to use it."

"Cup cake, why didn't you say that sooner? We can go to the bar some
other time."

Back at the apartment James did his best to stall the inevitable by
offering him a drink and saying he had to get more comfortable. In the
bedroom he put his purse on the dresser top and removed his pants suit
and blouse.

"I hope you're satisfied," he said knowing she would hear as he removed
the chocolate gown from the closet.

He started for the bathroom to apply a fresh coat of lipstick when his
cell rang. "I hope you weren't being sarcastic pet. Now put on a good
show. Remember lots of moaning and I love you Bruce's and I'll give you
the next number provided he stays the night and you wake him up with a
bit of oral play."

"Damn that woman! Now I have to act like I enjoy this shit. At least
she said she would give me the number. Maybe I only have to do this
two more times. The first time left me feeling like shit and tonight
probably won't be any better. I've got to get this chastity off," he
thought walking back into the living room.

Bruce was sitting on the sofa, a half full glass of Jack Daniels and
the bottle sitting on the table. He was also naked and slowly stroking
his nine inch snake. "Hot damn cup cake you do dress up fine. Get
that pretty ass over here and help me out with this thing."

He minced over and sat next to Bruce. Bruce's muscled chest and six
pack abs were covered in black hair and a thick wirery patch covered
his groin. Trying to delay what he knew was coming. James reached up
and ran his fingers through the mat of chest hair. Bruce was more than
ready reaching out and pulling down James' robe and the gowns' straps.
With his chest exposed Bruce gave him a deep tonsil teasing French
kiss. As the kiss lingered his fingers were pinching and pulling on
James' boy titties.

"Cup cake you are beautiful and a delight. I just wish you had a bit
more on top. Nothing too large, just a mouthful would be ideal. You
know I don't care about that caged cock of yours so how about you
getting on some female hormones? I've got a doctor friend who can
prescribe them. What cha say?"

"Hormones? I don't want to be a woman," he gasped in surprise and
horror.

"Well promise me that you will think about it. I definitely don't want
you to be a complete woman. Like I told you, I get my kicks from being
with a guy who looks like a girl from the neck down. There's just
something about that I can't really explain but I would like you with a
small pair. Just a mouth full cup cake that's all," Bruce said as he
lowered his head, began nuzzling and sucking on James' right breast.

Ooo

Bruce left James' apartment around noon with a big smile. As soon as
James shut and locked the door he made a bee line to the master bath.
He was sore, still had the taste of Bruce in his mouth and semen
dripping from his ass. After he bathed, brushed his teeth ten times
before using half a bottle of mouth wash he grabbed the hand mirror to
inspect his burning butt. Sure enough his anus was open and what
looked like small flower petals encircled it. Putting the mirror back
on the counter top, he couldn't keep the tears from flowing.

Back in his room he put a panty liner into the cotton crotch of his
watermelon colored nylon high cut briefs. He really didn't need panty
liners before but as more tears filled his eye knew he needed them now.
Picking up his discarded nightie he noticed two large stains on the
chocolate nylon. One stain on the front was smaller than the one on
the back. When the head of Bruce's dick continuingly hit a certain
spot, it made James ooze out his pent up cum. He felt the release when
it happened but not the intense rapturous feeling he got when
masturbating or fucking a girlfriend.

"I can't believe I've sunk this low but what choices do I have. If I
stop or refuse then I'm stuck forever like this. Stuck with no hope of
ever cumming again or being with a woman. She had better have left me
that next number after I made myself a total slut for her," he thought
going over to his computer.

"Pet that was simply a marvelous performance or should I say
performances. You two actually made me wet my panties five times. Are
you sure you're not really gay? If not you could have fooled me. I
saw you in the bathroom and noticed your problem. Repeated anal sex
can cause the intestine to prolapse and the anal ring stretched. I
believe when that happens the anus is referred to as a rose bud. Those
pads won't be enough I'm afraid. The only way to stop that excess
leakage is for you to buy and use super tampons. My personal favorite
is Tampax Pearls. I think you should buy this brand as it is full
sized, has a plastic applicator and scented. Considering where you are
going to put it, the plastic and scented verity would be best. So the
only task I'm giving you today is to buy them. Oh, I almost forgot, I
did promise you the second number didn't I (5). If you want the third
number you will call Bruce and tell him that you won't take hormones
but will get implants. Don't forget to tell him how much you loved
last night. Mistress."

"Implants? I can't possibly get implants. I don't want breasts.
Please I've gone along with everything you have demanded so far.
You've ruined my life already isn't that enough?"

"Pet you still have two numbers to earn and no I'm not satisfied yet.
However, I will give you a choice. You can elect to get temporary
implants or go on hormones. The choice is yours. I can recommend Dr.
Verna Wilson if you decide on implants. She has an excellent
reputation in the medical field. You've earned two demerits for being
sassy with me. Mistress."

Bertha Lou sat back smiling. "Breasts, I never would have thought of
that, thank you Bruce for giving me that idea. Yes, small ones, no
bigger than a full A. With a little work my James would be passable in
public but I don't want that. No, there's no humiliation in being able
to pass. I don't mind if he develops a feminine figure but I want him
seen as a flaming ******."






Big Fat Bertha Lou Part 3

Bertha Lou sat back smiling broadly. "I was right about men only
thinking about their dicks and James proves it. I can't believe that
he has done everything I asked just to get that chastity off. By the
time I let him out of that contraption he won't be able to have an
erection. His brain will associate getting an erection results in
severe pain. Plus with that device, his testicles pushed up into his
body and the heat from his girdles he'll be neutered in any case. He's
dressing like a flaming ******, actually engaging in gay sex and now
has agreed to get implants. Of course he thinks its temporary but
taking them out is actually more complicated and extensive than putting
them in. I wonder how much further I can push him. The one thing I
don't want to happen is for him to ever pass as a woman. There would
be no humiliation if he goes that far. Let's see, he has two demerits
already so getting ten by next weekend won't be a problem. Now all
I've got to do is figure out a proper punishment."

Ooo

It was Monday and the start of another work week that he wasn't looking
forward too. None of his old male friends wanted to have anything to
do with him. Tolerating his presents only because of company policies,
they were cordial but as brief as possible when talking to him about
company business. The only associates that would actually be friendly
and talk to him were most of the secretarial pool. Even then he tried
to limit his exposure as they usually embarrassed the hell out of him.
They mostly wanted to make him talk about his coming out, his
boyfriends or where he purchased something he was wearing.

At first he tried to stay in his cubical and avoided as much exposure
to his fellow workers as possible. When he complained about Melissa,
one of the secretaries, trying to get him to join the other girls
during break time, Mistress demanded that he accept her offer. James
didn't like that but figured there was no way for Mistress to know if
he did or didn't. That idea was dashed when Bertha Lou said she would
call Melissa to check up on him and how well he participated in their
conversations.

Doris, his stylist, was much worse as James was a captive audience.
She drilled him unmercifully getting more and more details of his gay
relationship than he was comfortable with. Each of his trips to the
salon was very humiliating answering questions on kissing techniques
gay's use and such. The absolute worse was when waxing his body, she
noticed the string hanging out of his ass. Those questions brought
tears to his eyes. Unfortunately, she thought the tears were from the
pain of his waxing and not his complete humiliation.

The only people that didn't give him the cold shoulder or make
derogatory comments were the other members of the LGBT group he met
with every second Friday. Despite their friendliness James' ego was
diminished with each meeting. He hated having to act like a gay man
but having to interact like one with a group of them left him feeling
less of a real man.

Stephen and Gerald, his gay neighbors, would stop by his apartment
occasionally for a short visit or invited him over to their place.
James did his best to avoid them as Bruce was more than enough queers
intruding into his life. Of course he had to be friendly and courteous
when they visited as Mistress was watching and listening.

Monday noon when most of the employees had left for lunch, James stayed
back to make a very personal call. "I wonder how many men call Dr.
Wilson asking for breast implants. This is going to be embarrassing
but it's either this or take female hormones and I certainly don't want
that."

Tuesday morning he took a half day off sick so he could see Dr. Wilson.
He was wearing his baby blue pants suit with royal blue polyester cowl
necked blouse and pencil heels. When he entered there were two female
patients waiting who gave him a hard look but said nothing.

The receptionist was a pretty young thing he would have loved to ask
out but she brought a bright flush to his cheeks when she said loudly,
"Oh you're the man that called wanting breast implants." He sat
blushing the whole time he waited for his turn as the two women kept
taking side glances at him and suppressing giggles. When it came to
his turn he was nervous as a cat walking past a dog house.

Dr. Verna Wilson was a kindly faced older woman with salt and pepper
hair. She gave him a standard physical examination, took blood samples
and urine specimen. She asked him a number of very personal questions
which Mistress told him to expect and the correct answers.

"Yes, Doctor I've been dressing for over a year. Yes, Doctor I have to
have implants but nothing larger than a full A-cup for now. Yes, Ma'am
I have a boyfriend and he approves," he dutifully answered while
cringing at each on the inside.

"Very well Mr. Archer I'll do the procedure. It's relatively simple,
performed on an out patient basis and will take about six hours. Most
of that time will be in recovery and you will need someone to bring and
take you home. Basically what I will do is make a small incision in
your arm pits, insert an inflatable bag under each breast and inject a
gel like fluid to fill them to the appropriate size you asked for. It
will have to be done under anesthetic and you will need a few days to
recuperate. I can pretty much guarantee that they will look and feel
natural but there are risks. Any questions? If not, I will schedule
you in for Friday next week at eight here in my office."

James walked out of the office clutching several pamphlets that
explained breast augmentation procedures and after care. Both his
hands were shaking so much he had to grip the steering wheel as tightly
as he could. Secretly he hoped that Mistress only wanted to thoroughly
humiliate him and not make him go through with the procedure. He
desperately wanted a stiff drink to calm his nerves but there was no
way he would go into any bar looking like he did now.

Back at his place he had one more task to complete. He was to call
Stephen and ask him to accompany him to get his procedure done.
Stephen was the swishier of his two gay neighbors and worked from home.
Stephen was way too touchy feely and spoke with a slight lisp which
sent chills running up and down James' spine every time they were
together.

Gathering his courage knocked on Stephen's door as he looked around to
see if any of his other neighbors were about. He didn't want any more
people finding out about him than he already had. So far his exposure
around the complex was limited to mostly Stephen and Gerald.

"Hi there sweetie, my you look so fab in that cute outfit. Come on
in," Stephen greeted warmly giving James a quick hug and air kiss.

Ooo

James had another intimate date with Bruce on Saturday but Mistress
wouldn't give him the third number until after he got his new breasts.
He was jittery and on edge during the work week that followed. He
still held out a slim hope that Mistress would stop him but as each day
slipped past without a word those hopes died.

Friday morning the only words he heard from Mistress were, "Good luck."

When he came to in the recovery room, Stephen was holding his hand.
"You're awake, here the nurse told me you would probably be thirsty,"
he said placing a straw to his lips.

"Gawd, I feel like I've been hit by a train. Is....is it over?"

"Yes and while you're all bandaged up the Doctor said every thing came
out perfect. Now unless you need anything else I need to get back to
my laptop. You just rest and I will be right over there in the waiting
room."

After a couple of more hours James was feeling much better. There was
an ache around his chest but otherwise not in too much pain. The
Doctor finally came in, removed the bandages and held a mirror up for
him to see. Two small but very noticeable protrusions were on his
chest scarred with black and blue marks."

"That bruising will go away in a few days but other wise they look very
natural. I want you on bed rest over the weekend and no heavy lifting.
Do not take this bra off except for bathing during that time. By
Monday you should be able to return to your normal routine," she said
mistaking the horror for concern on his face.

"Now I want you to sit up slowly, here let me help. While small you
will need a good support bra for the next week. After that you can
wear or not wear a bra of your choice. Although I do recommend that
you wear a comfortable bra during the day all the time. You're not
experienced having breasts so make sure you get someone to fit you
properly. Most of the lingerie stores provide that service for free.
Now try not to move while I fasten this," she said hooking the full
coverage white cotton bra behind his back.

James spent a horrible weekend recuperating. He had sent the photos of
his new chest to Mistress but other than that was left to himself. He
did his best not to look at his bra covered chest but could not ignore
them. Every time he moved his arms he felt them, whenever he glanced
down he saw them and worst was seeing them as he bathed. He cried a
lot that weekend. The only good thing about his situation was that he
was left alone.

Sunday, while in the bath, cupped his new appendages in his palms for
the first time. He kind of knew what to expect but was surprised at
how real and sensitive they felt. He also noted that the Doctor had
done something to his nipples. They were bigger and thicker than they
had been. His nipples looked more like small pencil erasers. If it
weren't for the yellowish-brown marks of the fading bruising, no one
could tell they were fakes.

"Damn that Doctor was good," he thought breaking out in a fresh set of
tears.

That evening he checked his email. "Pet I absolutely adore your new
assets and can't wait to see how much your Bruce enjoys them. As
promised here is the third number to the combination (7). Just one
more to go and you will have all the numbers. Aren't you happy?"

"Over the weekend you forgot to say your 'I love Bruce' mantras and
that brings your accumulated demerits to ten, so you have a punishment
to pay. I've decided you need your very own personalized scent. Every
girl has a special perfume and I have decided yours will be pineapple.
Nothing says fruit more than the smell of pineapples don't you think?
It was hard to find but I did some research and found a nice ethnic
store that carries that particular scent. It's called Caribbean
Delight and the six ounce bottle only costs $19.95. Isn't that great?
During your lunch break tomorrow go there and buy a couple of bottles.
I can see and hear everything that you do at home but I can't smell.
You have never seen me. I could be any girl out there and if I chance
by and don't smell pineapples, well you know the answer. As a matter
of fact you love the sweet aroma of pineapples so much you will buy any
hair care or body product that contains pineapple scent."

"Now that we got all that out of the way, you need some bras. Go back
to that lingerie store, ask for a proper fitting and purchase at least
a dozen in different styles in sexy shimmering colors. Insist they be
slightly padded and provide up lift. You are proud of your titties
aren't you? So don't be ashamed to show them off a bit. Make sure the
sales clerks see the absolute joy of getting your first real bra on
your face. Believe me, I will call and ask if you were really happy.
Mistress."

Bertha Lou watched contentedly as James started to cry again. "The
humiliation of getting a fitting has to be great for a one time macho
man. I still can't believe he actually went through that procedure.
If he had done any research he would have known that female hormones
take ages to have any effect. Hormones are also easier to correct than
having implants removed but I'm so glad he chose to get them."

Ooo

Monday James felt like every eye at the office was staring at his chest
keeping a blush on his cheeks the entire day. In fact with his jacket
on no one noticed the slight bulges. Seeing him for so long wearing
brassy blonde hair, polished nails, pink lipstick and his various pants
suits most of the staff no longer paid much attention to "that gay guy"
as they now thought of him.

At lunch he found the small perfumery and purchased two bottles. The
Brazilian clerk didn’t bat an eye when he walked in and asked for that
particular fragrance. She even dabbed some behind his ears, on his
wrists and along his neck from the sample bottle for him. He left the
store smelling strongly of sweet pineapple with a hint of mango. As he
went back to work anyone that passed by him turned their heads and
sniffed.

“Great, just fucking great, just what I need more attention coming my
way.”

As was becoming the norm James couldn’t concentrate on his work. He
was too occupied worrying about getting fitted for a bra. Five o’clock
came all too soon and he drove to the lingerie store. The same clerk
that had helped him before frowned when he approached but couldn’t
stifle the laugh as he asked to be measured.

“OMG! What a fruit cake! He even smells like a fruit. Geez, why do I
get all the weirdo’s? Now he wants to be fitted for a bra. Like my
manager says though a sale is a sale,” she thought but said, “Sure
follow me to the back.”

She was surprised to find him wearing a cotton support bra when he
removed his blouse but shocked to see that he had real breasts. She
was loath to touch him but fascinated at the same time. Under the
pretext of taking measurements, she fondled them for a few moments.

“My gawd! They feel so real. He must be taking hormones. I don’t
think implants could feel that real,” she thought reaching down to pick
up her measuring tape.

She measured just under his breasts then across the nipples. Stepping
back she said that he was a 36-A. The slight frown on her lips turned
into a smile when he told her what he needed. This was going to be a
very good sale.

“So he wants padded and uplift does he? Well I think I’m going to have
a lot of fun with this. Of course what he wants will be very expensive
and my commission will come in handy,” she thought as she began
selecting gel filled bras that guaranteed up to a two size improvement.

James gasped when she handed him a bright scarlet and burgundy accented
uplift bra. Remembering at the last minute he had to act like he was
thoroughly enjoying getting his first bra gushed, “Oh this is lovely.
I can’t wait to put it on. Would you please help me?”

“Gawd! To think that when he first came here I thought I might go out
with him. What a fruitcake,” she thought showing him how to adjust the
small metal slides on the straps.

When he finally got the three hook and eye closure fastened, he got a
big shock. “They look gigantic!” he gasped.

“Well you asked for padding and uplift and the bras that I brought you
do just that. Those are really popular with the smaller girls you
know. That gel fill technology is really great and doesn’t add much
weight. Plus you get a nice looking C-cup to fill out your blouses and
dresses. Trust me, you’ll get a lot more attention from the guys
wearing that bra,” she said with a giggle.

With his face almost as red as the bra, started to say something but
decided not too. If Mistress called, he needed the clerk whose name
was Sheila, to say he seemed very happy. Instead of telling her to
find something less padded, smiled, clapped his hands together and told
her how wonderful the bra was. He definitely wasn’t happy as he walked
out of the store wearing that red bra and carried a bag with eleven
more.

“What’s this? He’s grown at lot bigger in the chest than I wanted. No
one would really notice his small titties but now, hell, everyone will
stare at his chest. I was afraid that having bigger ta-tas would make
him more passable but no one looking at his face would see a woman,”
she thought then said, “Pet, show me the bras you just purchased. I
thought I told you to get slightly padded ones. The sales girl picked
them out huh. You bought them, so you must really enjoy having nice
breasts and want the attention they bring from the guys. Are you sure
you’re not gay? Never the less Pet I have another task for you. If
you go through with it, I will give you the next and final number.
Tomorrow night I want you to get a tattoo. Nothing too extreme but I
want you to get a tramp stamp across the small of your back. When you
get to the shop give the tattooist my number and I’ll tell him exactly
what I want. Since Saturday will be the first time your boyfriend
Bruce sees your cute little titties, the tattoo will be another
surprise that will surely get his hormones flowing. Do that and you
will get the number Sunday.”

If he thought he got stared at before he was the center of attention
when he walked in Tuesday wearing his new C-cup bra. The secretarial
pool had a field day with him while in the break room. Three of the
bossier ones even insisted on seeing his new boobies. He tried to
protest but he was quickly surrounded and pushed into the nearby lady’s
room. Blushing scarlet as they quickly unbuttoned his blouse and
removed his bra, he was helpless to do anything. He was about to go
into full panic mode when the secretary’s supervisor came in. She
quickly dismissed the other women after chastising them and apologized
to James.

“Look James, I’m very sorry for what happened just now. Please forgive
them. It was just idle girlish curiosity and it’s not like they
haven’t seen breasts before. I hope you will accept my apology and not
file a complaint with management. I’ll make sure disciplinary notices
go into their personnel files.”

He accepted her apology but his ego was greatly impacted by the extreme
humiliation. He fled to his cubicle, shedding silent tears as he tried
to do his job but he couldn’t concentrate. Now there would be no
doubts in the company about him being gay. Even if he could get his
chastity off and change back to being James, no one would believe him.

James couldn’t wait to get out of the office even if it meant getting a
tattoo. He figured she couldn’t do much more to him to totally destroy
his life. She did promise that the tattoo wouldn’t be extreme. He did
use the internet to find a local tattooist who had good reviews and
drove right over from work.

James never understood why anyone would want to permanently disfigure
their body with any kind of tattoo. He figured that such people were
just plain stupid and had no respect for their bodies. Tattoos were
trashy but he had to get one.

“I hope she keeps her word and it won’t be too drastic,” he mused as he
entered the shop.

It was past nine o’clock by the time he left the tattoo parlor. Tears
streaked his face and in shock. The tattoo was brightly colored,
floral in design stretching from hip to hip with a pink heart centered
above a bouquet of multicolored roses in the small of his back. Inside
the heart in black cursive were the words, “I Luv Cock.”

Bertha Lou almost came in her panties when she saw the tattoo. It was
almost the perfect revenge but she still had plans. She reassured him
that she would give him the final number once Bruce had stayed the
night. Seeing him sitting on the edge of his bed crying his eyes out,
she felt sorry for him just a tiny bit.

“Don’t be such a party pooper pet. You can have another tattoo put
over that heart to cover it up once I free you. So dry those tears and
give your Mistress a great big smile and thank you for the lovely
tattoo.”

The rest of his work week went from bad to worse. He couldn’t
concentrate and missed more deadlines. He was depressed and what
little work he accomplished error filled. Towards late afternoon
Friday he was called into the boss’ office. There he received his
termination and three months severance pay.

“Look James I am never happy to let one of my staff go but your work
over the past month doesn’t cut it. I know you are undergoing a major
life change and I really hope everything works out for you but I can’t
let you stay. Get your personal things and….well take care.”

“Take care, how am I suppose to take care with a lousy three month
severance. That woman has made me go through almost all of my savings
buying these stupid clothes, getting these damn tits and other shit.
She’s ruined my life and taken my job to boot. Crap! So much for
TGIF.”

When he got home there was a small package at his door. Opening it he
found a blister pack containing Viagra and a note. “Pet, make sure you
put one of these pills into Bruce’s drink tomorrow and another one in
his coffee Sunday morning. Give me a grand final show and you’ll have
the last number by that afternoon.”

Ooo

Saturday morning was spent cleaning his apartment wearing the required
panties, bra, garter belt, hosiery, heels and apron. He was trembling
and scared about what she demanded he do tonight. His poor anal ring
was already stretched but with Viagra no telling how much abuse it
would take. His titties were completely healed. During his post
surgical visit the Doctor told him he could go out and have all the fun
he wanted with them. Bruce had been abusing his chest leaving hickies
and red tooth marks before so what would he do now. What kept him
going was the knowledge that he would have the final number. Out of
the cage and free to be James again. He would have to move to another
city and find a job but he would be free.

After douching three times and pushing some petroleum jelly up his poor
bottom hole, he took a leisurely bubble bath. He learned to do that
after his second date with Bruce. The jelly helped with the
penetration but not the agonizing pain to his ego. Back in his bedroom
he quickly splashed his pineapple perfume on before putting on his pink
floral embroidered garter belt and black seamed hose. Mistress wanted
him to meet Bruce at the door ready for the bedroom.

Taking his pink baby doll from the closet settled it over his shoulders
then stepped into the ruffled panties. As contrast he had painted his
glamour length nails in that bright red Maraschino polish and applied
the matching lipstick thickly. For some kinky reason Bruce like to see
a lipstick ring around his cock after a good blow job. Another thing
Bruce liked and Mistress insisted he keep doing all the time was for
him to put lipstick on his nipples. As he was stepping into his black
pencil heeled strappy sandals the doorbell rang.

Bruce was standing in the doorway dressed as usual in tight jeans,
white tee, black leather jacket and biker boots holding a bottle of
white wine. After a deep tonsil tickling kiss and squeeze on the butt
James led him into the kitchen. Tonight James decided he would drink
that entire bottle plus what he had left over in the fridge. As Bruce
opened the wine, he poured Bruce’s Jack Daniels and slipped the
powdered Viagra into it.

“After tomorrow I won’t ever have to see you or any of those ******s
again,” he thought handing the glass to Bruce.

James woke up bruised and battered. His ass aflame after being
assaulted three or was it four times last night. He wasn’t sure but he
could feel a sticky wetness on his thighs and his nightie was stuck to
his ass. He cleaned up as best he could without taking a bath and used
some more lubrication. Once he put the Viagra into Bruce’s coffee knew
he would be in for another round or two of having his ass plummeted by
nine thick inches. Bruce didn’t leave until well after noon completely
sated and exhausted. James could barely walk, was totally unsatisfied
and his nipples stung rubbed raw by Bruce’s thick stubble and nipping
teeth. He wanted to rush to his computer and get that final number but
decided to try and get all the filth he felt off his body. Clean but
still feeling dirty and dressed in his lingerie went to the computer.
Half afraid she hadn’t kept her promise, opened the email.

“Pet that was truly the most amazing feat of love making that I have
ever seen. As promised here is the last number (9). You know, I
thought I was punishing you but I was wrong. You were really a closet
gay man. You proved that last night. Mistress.”

“I’ve got it! I finally got it!” he yelled in jubilation.

He minced as fast as he could in the four inch pencil heels to the
bathroom to get his hand mirror. He turned the first small wheel to 4.
Looking at things backwards in a mirror plus the small size of the
wheel made doing that very difficult. Next he dialed in the 5 followed
by the 7 and 9. By the time he had the last number his head was
swimming. Straightening up he reached behind and pulled at the chain.
Nothing happened. The chains gripped his body as tightly as before.

“Shit! Shit! I must have done something wrong. I’ve got to get this
damn thing off. Damn it! As humiliating as this is going to be I’m
going to have to ask Stephen to work the damn combination. It’s just
too difficult to do by myself.”

Unfortunately Stephen wasn’t home but Gerald was. Gerald was a smaller
version of Bruce and had never bought James’ gay persona. When a
deeply embarrassed James asked him to release the lock he sneered, “So
what’s in it for me?”

“Anything you want. I’ll pay you just tell me how much.”

“It aint money I want. I think maybe the only reason you are acting
and dressing like that is because of that cage. I might be tempted to
believe you if you give me a really good blow job.”

“Wha….what…errr….what about Stephen? I thought you two were a couple.
Please just unlock me.”

“Yeah Stephen is my life partner but I don’t trust you. Prove to me
you are as gay as you look and I’ll work the combination. Otherwise go
on home.”

With no alternative James dropped to his knees and undid Gerald’s
jeans. Having to look like he was going to enjoy sucking his cock, he
put a big smile on his face, looked up at him and said, “Well this is
going to be fun.”

James easily swallowed Gerald’s dick. It was only seven inches at best
and not nearly as thick as Bruce. He bent to the task trying to look
eager but at the same time just wanting it over with. He kissed then
licked the circumcised head several times before he began swallowing,
slowly taking it all the way in. With his nose pressed against musky
smelling pubic hairs, James slowly began to pull back, sucking and
slurping all the way. He did his best, had to convince Gerald he
really loved to suck cock. When Gerald finally erupted James held it
in his mouth, looked up opining his mouth sticking out his tongue to
lick his lips then swallowed.

“I guess I was wrong about you. Come on get up and turn around. Holy
shit, why didn’t you show me your tramp stamp? Oh well, thanks for the
blow job anyway. What were the numbers again, 4,5,7 and 9 okay give me
a sec. You sure those numbers are the right ones? Okay, don’t get you
panties in a bunch. Let me try it again. Sorry James no luck this
aint the right combo.”

Ooo

James went as fast as he could back to his apartment. He was furious
that she had cheated him. The taste of Gerald was still strong but he
went straight to his computer. There was an email from Mistress and he
opened it.

“Pet, I guess by now you have discovered that you cannot open the lock.
Oh before you start ranting and raving, the numbers I gave you are
correct just not in the proper sequence. Four numbers might not seem
that hard to figure out but the combination has about the same odds as
winning the lottery. Maybe you’ll get lucky but I wouldn’t count on
it. Remember you didn’t ask for the combination but rather the
numbers. I have given you those. So if you truly want out of that
cage play nice nice or else.”

“However since you no longer have a job and little money, I’m prepared
to make you an offer. This is a one time offer, no second chances.
All you have to do is agree and sign a one year binding contract to be
my live in personal servant. When the contract expires I will pay you
$2,000 and free you from your chastity. I know the money isn’t much
but I will be providing your food, clothing, other personal needs and
housing. Besides being free of your chastity, you have the added
benefit of not having to see Bruce again.”

“I have attached the contract to this email. You will find it quite
detailed and contains significant monetary penalties should you
default. Oh, you will still be in chastity should you breach our
contract. If you are thinking about doing me bodily harm once we meet,
remember I am the ONLY one who knows the correct sequence. You have
until tomorrow noon to decide your fate. Mistress.”

“Crap!” he screamed.

The contract was indeed detailed. He would have to provider her with
personal care while attending to her bath and bedroom, do all the
household chores, prepare and cook all meals and dress according to her
desires. Should he quit or refuse to do as instructed would be fined
$20,000 and dismissed immediately with only the clothing on his person.

“Some fucking contract, I get to do all the shit work while she plays
the princess. I’ve got to see if I can get this damn thing off.”

After two hours trying to move the small combination wheels, he gave up
in frustration. Needing help decided to call Stephen and see if he was
home. He certainly didn’t want to ask Gerald again. Stephen was very
good at math and told James the odds were more like 126 to 1 he could
get the combination. After two hours he had to quit because Gerald was
taking him out and would be back the next afternoon. James only had
until noon and begged him to come back sooner.

“Sorry James but I have a business meeting scheduled for the morning
and then have to attend a luncheon. Maybe you can find someone else to
help. How about getting your boyfriend to try it?”

James reluctantly called Bruce but all he got was voice mail. He tried
again in the morning but still no answer. It was getting close to
eleven and James was running out of time when Bruce called.

“Sorry cup cake had to make a run up to my other gym and I just got
back. So what’s up?”

“Errr…nothing….I errrr…just wanted to ask you something but…but I found
what I needed. I’ll talk to you later. Bye.”

Defeated he went to his computer. There was an email from Mistress.
“Pet, I watched your pathetic attempts to undo your little cage. That
was very amusing but you did a lot of cursing accumulating twelve
demerits. You still have a choice to make and not much time. If you
decide to accept my terms, you will be at my lawyer’s office by noon
today. There you will sign the contract then it will be notarized and
filed with the clerk of court all nice and completely legal. Remember
I’m the only one who knows the combination and let’s just say I have an
amazing number of videos and pictures. My lawyer has a copy of all of
them. Can you guess what happens if I die or seriously hurt?
Mistress.”

“Videos, photos, oh shit I forgot all about those,” James thought as he
slammed his hands down hard on the desk top then scribbled the name and
address of the lawyer. He only had thirty minutes to get there, so
grabbed his purse and headed out the door. His fate soon to be signed,
sealed and delivered.

Ooo

He walked into the lawyer’s office with a few minutes to spare. He
noticed a woman almost filling the couch she was sitting on in the
waiting area. The secretary sitting behind the desk took his name and
told him to please take a seat and the lawyer would call him in
shortly.

“What a pig, I’m in a living hell but at least I’m not some ugly fat
cow,” James thought as he sat as far away from the woman as he could.

Picking up a magazine and flipping through it didn’t notice the woman
smiling triumphantly at him. It wasn’t until the secretary announced
that the lawyer would see them now that he understood who the fat pig
was.

“You,” was all he could say.

“Yes Pet, now come along the lawyer is waiting,” she replied turning
sideways to get through the open door.

“Shit, she’s as big as a friggin house. Why is she doing this to me?
I don’t even know her,” he thought then had to ask, “Why? I don’t even
know you. What have I ever done to you to deserve all this?”

“Oh Pet, sure you know me. Why we even had a date once. Don’t you
remember your ballerina partner, Bertha Lou?”

“Shit!”

“That’s another demerit Pet. I’m going to have to figure out a real
proper punishment for thirteen demerits. Now come along or leave. You
still have a choice,” she said with a sly smile. “Of course you will
follow like a puppy. You want that chastity off soooo bad. You can
forget that you don’t have the right numbers and with that small lock
in the small of your back. I doubt you will ever figure out the
correct combination especially when you keep entering the wrong ones,”
she thought as her smile broadened.

Ashen faced and shaking like a leaf, James left the lawyer’s office.
He had two days to either sell or donate all his male things and
furnishings before he had to be at Bertha Lou’s house. Lucky for him
he was on a month to month lease and could get out of his apartment.
Of course Stephen and Gerald noticed him getting rid of all his stuff
and had to ask why. James wasn’t about to tell the truth but simply
said he had a job in another state.

“Like I want to associate with you fags or tell you how much more
degrading my life has become,” he thought.

Ooo

At the appointed hour James showed up at Bertha Lou’s house. He was
unimpressed with the house but knew the land had to be worth a fortune.
As instructed he was wearing skin tight neon green stretch pants, a
bright pink halter collared midriff blouse and two inch stacked heeled
red pumps. Glittering in the sun light from his exposed belly button
was a small Tinkerbelle. He had gotten the belly piercing yesterday in
order to remove the thirteen demerits. There were several bikers in
the waiting room as he asked for the piercing and they laughed, pointed
their fingers and made crude remarks as he came back out. James felt
very lucky to have gotten out of the tattoo/piercing parlor with his
life.

Gotten this far he sighed heavily and knocked on the door. Bertha Lou
answered it wearing a blue scrub suit and a pair of pink fuzzy
slippers. She had a grin as big as any Chestshire cat’s.

“Pet it’s good to see you made it on time. Come in and I’ll show you
your room for the next year. It’s down stairs in the basement, not
much but comfy.”

It definitely wasn’t much as the only furnishings were a lumpy twin
bed, side table with lamp and alarm clock, a dresser with mirror and a
straight back wooden chair. Sitting on a corner of the dresser was an
ancient nineteen inch black and white television. The bathroom wasn’t
much better containing only a shower stall, commode and sink area.

“Get your stuff put away and meet me in the kitchen as soon as you
can,” she said as she left.

James tried to stall but having only two suitcases and several garment
bags didn’t have that much to put away. Reluctantly he headed up the
stairway and into the kitchen. Bertha Lou was at the table drinking
coffee and eating what remained of a dozen donuts. She pointed to the
chair opposite and he sat.

“Pet you took long enough. When I say ‘as soon as you can’ that
usually means immediately. Now I work nights with Monday’s off from
eleven to seven in the morning. I sleep from eight until three so
you’ll have to be quite. Promptly at three you will wake me with a
kiss to the lips and serve me a cup of coffee. While I have my coffee,
you will prepare my bath. I expect you to attend me the entire time
then help me get dressed before you prepare my breakfast. Until you
get use to your daily routine, I’ll give you a list of what I expect to
be done from then on. Right now the first thing you are going to do is
hook up all those cameras and microphones so I will be able to monitor
you when I’m not here. By the way I really like that little
Tinkerbelle. I’m just sorry I didn’t think of doing that sooner.”

“Please Berth…”

“That’s Mistress to you! That failure just earned you another
demerit.”

“Errr…sorry Mistress…but..you said you would provide me clothing and I
was wondering if I could get some new..”

“Yes I know what’s in the contract and we’ll get you some new clothing
on Monday. Until then you will keep wearing your darling Capri’s and
stretch pants with a cute blouse. As far as you’re concerned nothing
has changed. You will continue with all the tasks I have set for you
all the time. I know you have a shower in your bathroom but it’s been
disabled. Once you have fixed my breakfast then you will take a bath
in my left over bath water. I believe you have work to do. Get it
done and report back to me when it’s finished.”

It only took James a couple of hours to hook up and connect all the
cameras and microphones to her computer. He spent what was by then
early evening cleaning the kitchen area. For that she had put him in a
white organza pinafore styled apron with pink rose buds embroidered on
the bib and pink rubber gloves. A pink chiffon scarf was wrapped
bandana style around his head. He mopped and waxed the linoleum
kitchen floor, polished the table and chairs, cleaned the counter tops
and wiped the sinks by nine p.m. then had to prepare her meal. As she
ate her steak and large baked potato, James nibbled at his large salad
with half a boiled egg.

When he had washed the dishes and wiped down the kitchen it was time
for him to prepare her evening bath. For that task she had him strip
down to his lingerie retaining the scarf, hose and heels. Kneeling in
front of her as he pulled her scrub bottoms off, he wanted to be sick.
A strong aroma of musk, urine and sourness hit him like a slap in the
face as he pulled down her gray nylon full cut briefs.

“Pet while you are down there give it a kiss and a lick. I’ve heard
about that from some of my girlfriends but never experienced it. Go on
I still have a lot to do before I go to work,” she said grabbing his
head and pushing his face into her stinking crotch.

She couldn’t see his head under the blubber of her stomach but she
could feel his tongue. “Oh my,” she gushed as she pushed his head
harder, “I could really get to like this. Get that tongue in there and
suck my clit.”

It wasn’t long before she had her very first climax. She was
shuddering so hard from the wonderful sensations running up and down
her spine she squirted some pee. James’ head was still pressed into
her crotch and couldn’t back away. He was forced to swallow her
offering before she released her grip. Between the stench, taste and
the pee James leaped for the commode. As he leaned heavily into the
bowl, ashen faced and weak she was laughing heartily.

“Guess you didn’t find it as enjoyable as I did pet but you’re going to
have to get use to doing that. I had too much fun and can’t wait to
brag to the girls. Get cleaned up I need to get into the bathtub.”

“Now while I’m at work you will vacuum the entire house, mop and wax
the wooden floors. You will do this every night while I’m out so I
won’t have to put up with the noise. Once you have done that make my
bed then you can take a bath in my tub. I’ll be watching so don’t even
think about filling it with fresh water,” she instructed as she walked
out the door.

Ooo

He was awakened out of a deep exhausted slumber by a sharp painful slap
to his butt. Bertha Lou was standing over him looking very pissed.
“Why are you still in bed? You were supposed to meet me when I came
home. Get your lazy ass out of bed and follow me upstairs. I need you
to message my feet. Your laziness just cost you three demerits.”

James moaned as he slid his feet into the pencil heels. They hurt his
feet and ankles but he followed pulling his chocolate negligee on as he
went. “I’m sorry Mistress but you didn’t tell me to greet you when you
came home.”

“You’re my personal attendant. I shouldn’t have to tell you to do
obvious tasks.”

She sat heavily on the living room couch as James knelt down and
removed her shoes. The odor that emanated from her feet was strong and
he grimaced as he took one into his hands. She knew her feet stank
after wearing the hot shoes all night and enjoyed seeing the look on
his face. After thirty minutes she told him to stop and since he did
such a good job could kiss each of her toes as a sign of appreciation.

Grunting with the effort she raised her butt off the sofa and let out a
smelly fart that made her giggle. Pushing down her scrubs along with
her dingy looking gray nylon granny panties, settled back and spread
her legs.

“You know what to do now, so get that tongue working.”

Satisfied, she slowly got up and went to her bedroom. “Hand wash my
lingerie and scrubs. Hang them on the outside line to dry then dust
the house and wax the furniture. You better remember to wake me at
three with a kiss and my coffee. Keep it quite.”

There must have been two weeks worth of dirty laundry when he emptied
the two hampers. Holding up a pair of the largest panties he had ever
seen groaned. As per his routine he was only wearing lingerie and an
apron with his heels. Bringing the wash outside to hang he was happy
that no one would see him through the woods surrounding the house. At
lunch he decided to sneak one of her chocolate candy bars. That later
proved to be a big mistake when she counted them and found one missing.
She scolded him for not sticking to his diet and added three more
demerits. One more and he would have ten.

With her coffee in hand he went to wake her up. Placing the coffee on
her bedside table, leaned over and kissed her on the lips before
stepping back. She opened her eyes and glared at him.

“When I said my lips I didn’t mean the ones on my mouth idiot. That’s
ten demerits for daring to actually kiss me. You forget I know where
those lips have been and what they swallowed. Like I’d ever let a cock
sucker kiss me! Now put them where they belong and you better be
good.”

She didn’t smell any better in the morning than she did last night. It
took all his concentration not to toss his cookies as he licked and
slurped her pussy. Satisfied she rolled over on her stomach and told
him to lick and kiss her ass until she told him to stop.

“Yeah, lick and kiss my fat ass ******. Make sure you get in deep
between my cheeks. You ever presume to kiss me again I’ll use your
face as a toilet.”

As soon as she told him to stop, he jumped off the bed and rushed into
the bathroom. “While you’re in there might as well prepare my bath,”
she said laughing.

Sitting up she picked up her coffee and took a sip. “I think another
trip to the tattoo parlor is in order. A floral arrangement of
pineapples connected by half peeled bananas around his ankle would look
nice.”

James didn’t even try to hide what he felt about getting another tattoo
which delighted Bertha Lou. “You don’t seem very happy about getting
another tattoo pet and I’m certainly not going to make you get it. You
have free will and a choice. Why don’t you put on that cute pink
pants suit if you decide you really want that tattoo? I’d really love
to see how it turns out.”

The tattooist wasn’t happy to see that gay guy coming back but money
was money. The last time he came in a riot almost broke out in his
shop and luckily he was able to stop it. When he heard what James
wanted, snickered and agreed to do it. He did very good work except it
wasn’t exactly what James asked for. Yes there was a chain of
pineapples connect by bananas but the pineapples were a bright pink
about an inch high. A boarder of brightly colored tropical flowers was
added above and below in a lattice design. When finished the tattoo
was three inches wide.

Ooo

Monday true to her word took him out to purchase some new clothing. It
just wasn’t the clothing he wanted. She took him to a uniform shop
where she bought four maid’s uniforms. They were simple cotton above
the knee A-line styles in black, gray, suntan and navy all with white
cuffs and lapels. Matching nursing style caps and aprons came with
each dress. Stopping at a shoe store added two pairs of four inch
pencil heeled pumps. He received a demerit for complaining. The final
stop was a vintage clothing store where she found twelve stiff net
crinolines with nylon yokes. Three pairs each in red, white, yellow
and blue to fluff out his uniform skirts.

Back at the house she had him change into the suntan uniform, three of
the yellow crinolines and his new yellow pumps. As he did the cleaning
the petticoats swished about his legs and discovered quickly that he
had to watch his skirts. Mincing past an end table the flaring skirt
knocked over a ceramic figurine.

For his clumsiness and lack of feminine grace he received another five
demerits plus two hours of mannerisms lessons. He was shown how to
brush his skirts back under before sitting and told to keep his knees
together when sitting. Finally, and most importantly shown how to
curtsey. When she left for work instructed him to keep practicing for
another hour.

Other than having to give Bertha Lou oral pleasure James wasn’t treated
horribly. He was allowed plenty of private time to do as he wished.
If having to read several gay orientated magazines and romance novels
doing what he wished. The only other restriction was that if he went
out, had to wear his feminine attire. He preferred staying in the
house but Bertha Lou often took him out in the late afternoons to the
grocery, d**g store etc. He hated those trips because those stops
meant going out in uniform. With his brassy blond hair and only
wearing lipstick there was absolutely no way anybody could ever mistake
him as a woman.

Ooo

About six months into his servitude a new patient was admitted to the
nursing home. He was an elderly but fit sixty-************** man with
arthritic knees. He was stoutly built with a white fringe of hair,
wore black horn rimmed thick glasses. He had no living relatives and
needed someone to help him get around though he managed using a walker.
He was placed in a room in Bertha Lou’s wing. He was an early riser
and spent the pre-dawn time visiting with Bertha Lou. It didn’t take
her long to find out that Mister Joseph Ames was a homosexual. The
fact that he was gay started to give her an idea. The more they talked
the more she discovered how unhappy he was with the nursing home.
After he had been a resident for about a month, Bertha Lou made a
suggestion.

“Mr. Ames, I know you hate the food and disappointed that there are no
other gay men here. What you really need is an Assisted Living
Residence. Didn’t you check any of those places out? Didn’t know
about them? Well I have a spare bedroom at my place and a wonderful
gay young man who cooks and cleans the place for me. He’s one of those
girly-girl types though. You know likes to wear women’s clothing and
act feminine. If you like that type and are forceful you could enjoy
his talents. Besides, I could take you in for half of what you’re
paying for this place. What do you think?”

Two weeks later a cab arrived at Bertha Lou’s house. She had taken the
day off so she could welcome him. All she had told James was that she
had rented out the spare room and to get it ready. He was also
informed that he would do anything that Mr. Joe said as if it came from
her. Any trouble and he would be tossed out. James knew he was in
trouble when Mr. Joe slapped him on the ass. He complained bitterly
one afternoon about Bertha Lou promising that he wouldn’t have to
engage in homosexual acts.

“Pet I didn’t lie to you about that. What I promised was that you
wouldn’t have to see your old boyfriend Bruce again. I have kept that
promise and you have earned another demerit. I believe that makes a
total of twenty for the week. Wow, that’s the most ever isn’t it?
What? Now don’t go blaming Mr. Joe for your failures. I’ll tell you
what, if you can keep your demerits to fewer than 100 by the time your
contract is up, I won’t punish you. However, should you fail, you will
agree to go to that tattooist and have your penis and balls tattooed a
brilliant pink with little white hearts.”

For the next five and a half months Bertha Lou enjoyed watching James
performing one degrading act after another. She also took full
advantage of his ever increasing tongue talent. Mr. Joe was quite
vigorous and very demanding. She also made sure he had plenty of
Viagra. One day Mr. Joe threatened to tell Bertha Lou that James had
stuck him which would result in him being kicked out. James couldn’t
afford that, he was too close to getting his chastity removed.
Reluctantly he agreed to get dentures. James was a mess for two weeks
after that procedure was performed. Later another debasing act was
forced upon him. Mr. Joe began stretching out James’ boy pussy using
larger and larger butt plugs. It seems like Mr. Joe enjoys fisting
almost as much as he likes getting blow jobs.

In addition Mr. Joe had James take him into the city. Sitting for
hours in the park or on a bench at the zoo they would be seen kissing
and smooching. James often could be found sitting in Mr. Joe’s lap
with his arms around his neck with their heads touching. James had a
constant blush on his face during those outings. It would be
humiliating doing that with another man but mortifying when doing it
with a man who could be his grandfather.

As much as James would love to take a baseball bat to Mr. Joe’s bald
head didn’t dare for two reasons. The first was to get that chastity
belt off and the other was to keep his demerits under 100. Getting his
dick and balls tattooed would be very humiliating and guessed very very
painful.

He wasn’t sure how many demerits he had going into the last day of his
contract. He thought he had done everything demanded of him and more
but today he would be freed. Today he was wearing a relatively new
uniform. Mr. Joe had asked Bertha Lou to get him new ones a month ago.
These uniforms were semi-sheer nylon in white, pink, lime green and
yellow. His lacy camisoles and slips could easily be seen through the
thin material. Today he was wearing the pink one with his black
lingerie on orders from Mistress. He didn’t mind as he would change
into a pants suit before leaving this horrible place forever.

“Well today is the day you get your chastity off and a day of
reckoning. First the demerits, based upon my calculations you have
earned a total of 109 demerits. So before I remove that device we will
go to the tattoo shop and have your privates taken care of. Once that
is done you are free to do whatever you want. I will give you your
$2,000 there and will never hear from me again. No, we will go just as
you’re dressed now. I didn’t promise to give you any of the clothing.”

Seeing him about to protest, held up her hand. “I don’t know what you
have decided to do once you are free but I have a proposition for you
to consider. Mr. Joe is very smitten with you and would like to marry
you. Hush! Don’t say anything until you hear me out. He’s old, very
rich and still has his home. If you agree to marry him you two will
move back into his place. Other than keeping him happy, like you have
been, you would be free to do whatever you wanted. Additionally,
should your husband die from anything other than natural causes those
photos get released. If you do marry then I won’t force you to get
your privates decorated. I’ll give you five minutes to decide.”

“This is some choice. The lady or the tiger choices would be easier to
make than this one. I think I would be happier if I chose the tiger at
least my problems would be solved quickly. He’s a mangy old goat with
too many hands and way too eager for a man his age. I don’t think he
can keep that up much longer and I would inherit his wealth. So what
do I have if I decide to get my privates tattooed? A heck of a lot of
pain, embarrassment plus two thousand with no job, no home and no
clothing. Definitely will never have a girlfriend, not with these
tattoos I already have or these tits.

“Your five minutes are up. Have you made a decision?”

Ooo

Gay marriages were recognized and they were married in a simple civil
ceremony. For the occasion James wore a white pants suit with silver
cowl neck silk blouse. He was still in chastity to make sure he went
through with the ceremony. There was one change that he was forced to
endure. Since he wasn’t going to get his groin tattooed, Bertha Lou
insisted that he get a new hair style. Doris had laughed her ass off
when he told her what he wanted.

“As soon as she sets me free I’m getting my hair buzz cut and dyed
black. I must be the only guy in the world who has a poodle cut dyed
neon pink.”

He shuddered as Mr. Joe kissed him full on the lips finalizing the
wedding. True to her word, Bertha Lou freed him from the chastity
device and gave him his $2,000. He would also be allowed to take all
his clothing and personal items when his husband moved back into their
home. Of course she waited until Mr. Joe had consummated the marriage.
That next morning he was in the bathroom naked as Bertha Lou turned the
little wheels, 6,9,6 and 9. The lock opened and the chastity fell to
the tiled floor with a bang.

“I’ve kept my word. You’re free but I will be checking up to make sure
you’re a happily married couple. Don’t want all those pictures and
videos to go viral,” she said walking out of the room.

Alone at last and for the first time in almost two years reached down
to touch his pride and joy. What he discovered made him scream out in
horror. His once eight inch member didn’t even fill the palm of his
hand, didn’t respond no matter how much he jerked and worse his scrotum
didn’t have any balls. Even a hooker wouldn’t come near him now.

Completely defeated and no longer a real man, James drove Mr. Joe to
their new home. There he got another horrible surprise. It wasn’t a
mansion. It was a run down frame house in an old and declining
neighborhood. Mr. Joe wasn’t rich by any means living on Social
Security. Once inside the neglected home, James emailed Bertha Lou
demanding to know why she had told him that his husband was rich.

“Pet I didn’t lie. Mr. Joe is a wonderful old man and rich in
experience. He has already shown you a lot about gay sex and I’m sure
he can teach you so much more. However I have a proposal for you.
Since you can’t expect to live on just a stipend, I will hire you at
minimum wage to clean and cook for me. Should you want, I will double
the wage if you wake me with a kiss. I’ll give you until tomorrow to
decide. If you choose otherwise, then per our agreement never contact
me again. Mistress P.S. That’s one demerit for using my real name.”

The End






How Did This Happen

By Cheryl Lynn

This is a first person account of a young man who is forced to become a
woman by his step aunt. It is more about his strict training and mental
adaptation than a description of his clothing and other characters
involved. There is no sex but very humiliating and I have left the
ending up to your imagination. There is diaper play but it only sets the
stage for the rest of his development. All the usual disclaimers apply
and may be downloaded for personal use only. Any other use is strictly
prohibited unless approved by the author. Comments are welcome at
cheryl2lynn@yahoo.com.



How Did This Happen

I sat looking into the vanity's mirrors. Reflected back was the face of
a pretty but not beautiful girl. Long strawberry blond hair piled up in
curls held in place by a white feathered band. Pillow soft strawberry
colored lips. The nose a bit too big but not that detracting, arched
brows, smoky eyelids and large golden hoop pierced earlobes stared back
at me.

What the mirrors didn't show was my attire. I was wearing a white
crystal beaded square necked leotard with spaghetti straps with powder
pink tights. Around the waist flared a stiff pink and lavender tutu and
white satin en pointe ballerina slippers on my feet. On each wrist was a
wide white feathered band. Under the leotard I had on a very tight white
panty girdle with a satin diamond panel embroidered with silver thread in
a delicate floral pattern and white push up gel filled C-cup strapless
bra. It was a costume appropriate for my ballet recital. What really
made it a costume though was the fact that the person wearing it was me.
I'm all boy, at least that's what I was before Stephanie came into my
life.

Stephanie was my step aunt. My father married my step mother when I was
f******n and Stephanie was her older sister. I had just turned sixteen
when they were killed in a horrific traffic accident. Stephanie was the
nearest living relative and as such took control of my family's estate
and me. Unlike my loving step mother she was cold and demanding. She
never married preferring the company of other women. She was pretty but
inside her heart was ugly and cruel.

From the moment she took control my life, as I knew it, was over. First
she fired the maid, Millie, and cook, Dana. Our chauffeur had died with
my parents. Millie and Dana had been more like family than servant but
despite my pleas were let go. In their place she hired a very pretty but
obnoxious maid, Delilah and Bertha. Delilah was of Italian descent with
blue-black raven hair and smooth olive complexion. Her hearth shaped
face was always immaculately made up and wore stylish clothing when not
in uniform. Bertha, the new cook, can best be described as a woman right
out of Wager's operas, big, blond and very German. Her round double
chinned face never had makeup and when not in her uniform wore man styled
slacks and shirts.

She pulled me out of school and hired a nanny to home school me. Her
name was Madam Simms. In my mind she wasn't a woman but the devil
incarnate. She was a very sever looking woman. She was six foot tall in
three inch block heels, more big boned than fat and despite her size very
quick on her feet. Her salt and pepper hair was always styled in a tight
bun on the back of her head. She wore little makeup usually just a slash
of red across her narrow lips and dressed mostly in black ankle length
dresses. It was into her hands that Stephanie thrust me two weeks after
she took over.

During those first weeks, Stephanie had workers come in and do some
remodeling. I call it a house but it was really a mansion with ten
bedrooms set on a large isolated lot. Besides the house and garage there
is a large swimming pool and cabana. Workers came once a week to tend
the pool and grounds. It was a great house but being so isolated none of
my friends lived nearby but I had just gotten my driver's license so that
wouldn't be a problem much longer.

To answer the question of how did this happen, I need to start telling my
tale from when Stephanie took control and pulled me from school. Like I
said Delilah was hot but it took me about two seconds to realize she
didn't like me. I tried to act cool when I was around her but she turned
up her pert nose and ignored me.

Stephanie was in the process of making her changes when she called me
into her office. Up until then I did my best to avoid her. It had been
my dad's but only the furniture remained. All his personal items and
masculine nick knacks were gone. She had even replaced the original
America's Cup oil painting by James Buttersworth. In its place was some
old classical styled oil of two half naked women embracing.

"Dale I have decided to remove you from school as of this Friday and
hired someone to teach you here at the house. Her name is Madam Simms
and you will do your studies under her guidance. She will be moving in
next week and you will meet her then. She has my orders to see to your
day to day affairs. You are dismissed," was her terse statement as I
stood before her desk.

"Stephanie I don't want to quit school. All my friends are there and I
like the courses. You can't do this to me," I answered angrily.

"Dale I'm in charge of this household and you. I am the adult and you
are the c***d. You will call me Ms. McAdams and not by my first name.
As far as school, I can and I have. Now leave." She didn't scream but
said it in the cold tone of authority.

On my last day at school during PE I played a couple of sets of tennis.
I was pissed that Stephanie pulled me out of classes and took it out on
my opponent. We played hard and both of us were sweat soaked by the end.
Since it was my last class and my last day I didn't bother to shower.
Upon entering the kitchen I saw Stephanie and Delilah.

Delilah took one look at me and sniffing the air said to Stephanie,
"Puppy dog, he smells like a wet dog. Shall I take care of it Madam?"

To my surprise she grabbed me by my earlobe and began pulling me up
stairs. I should tell you that I'm not that big or strong. I'm short
and thin for my age with shoulder length brown hair and blue eyes. I
looked more like a f******n year old and that's probably why I copped an
attitude at school. My parents got more letters from my headmaster than
most of my buddies regarding my misdeeds.

Delilah was a head taller and surprisingly strong. I protested the
treatment but that only made her pinch my earlobe all the harder. Man
that really hurt. She pulled me straight into my in-suite bathroom and
started filling the tub. I just stood there like a lamp post rubbing my
throbbing ear. Like I said, I did smell and my shirt was deeply stained
with sweat so I wasn't upset about getting cleaned up only taking a bath
bothered me. I couldn't remember the last time I had taken a bath. In
my mind only babies and girls took baths.

I was standing there rubbing my sore ear when she told me to strip.
"What the fuck?" I thought hearing that. She obviously didn't mean for
me to get naked with her still there. How wrong that thought was as she
came over and began pulling my shirt over my head. Free of the shirt I
tried to move back but she grabbed the waist band of my shorts and pulled
me in.

I opened my mouth to tell her to fuck off when she did something that I
had never experienced before. She slapped my face hard bringing instant
tears. The side of my face was flaming and my mind frozen in shock. I
had been in fights at school but usually I was the instigator and
expected to be hit back. I'd never been slapped before so this shocked
and caught me off guard. If it had been some guy I would have lashed
back but this was a girl, no a woman. As I stood trying to get control
over my tears, she undid my tennis shorts and in one motion pulled my
shorts and boxers to my ankles. Immediately my hands plunged down to
cover my parts. Her smile was more of a smirk as I did that and she took
my clothing from around my feet. The next two hours, yes, I said two
hours, were the most embarrassing I had ever experienced. Leaving me
standing naked she left but returned shortly with one of those small hard
shelled pink carrying cases. From the case she removed a number of
bottles and a pair of latex gloves.

As I watched her wide eyed, she looked at me holding up a wooden
hairbrush and said, "By the time I'm through cleaning you up, you will
smell nice and sweet. Give me any trouble and I will punish you."

From the tone of her voice, the look in her eyes and from the way she
already ********** me the only thing I could do was nod my head. Putting
a white plastic bibbed apron and the gloves on, she grabbed a large pink
jar and began rubbing the contents all over my body. She applied a thick
coating everywhere except my upper face and head. She had covered my
hair in a pink plastic shower cap. In no time it began to burn and stink
making me hop from one foot to the other asking her for relief. All she
did was smirk and tell me to stop complaining. After what seemed like an
hour she shoved me into the shower and turned on the cold water. Believe
me when I say that cold spray felt wonderful at first but quickly became
very uncomfortable shrinking my male parts and turning my lips blue. It
wasn't until she told me to shut the water off and get out that I noticed
all my body hair was gone. I was a naked as a new born baby and if I
wasn't so cold would have blushed.

From the shower I was ushered into the bath which now was a mass of
multi-colored bubbles and the aroma of flowers overwhelming. She
actually bathed me like I was a helpless baby. When she had me stand and
began cleaning my genitals I thought I was going to die from
embarrassment. Normally I could get a hard on instantaneously just
looking at a pretty girl but this time I was too mortified. It didn't
help my pride or ability to get erect when she wondered why I was making
a big fuss with such a baby dick and balls. I almost jumped out of the
bathtub when she stuck the washcloth into my asshole. By the time the
bath was finished I was totally mortified and my male ego severely
bruised.

My experiences in the bathroom didn't end with the bath. After patting
me dry she covered my body in a very fragrant body lotion and with a
large powder puff dusted me with an equally aromatic talc. With my body
dusted I was pushed over the sink where she shampooed and conditioned my
hair. Not once but three times. With my hair still quite damp, she had
me sit on the edge of the tub with my feet in it and wrapped the towel
around my shoulders. She parted it down the middle and across the
forehead then began trimming it. When she had finished my hair was in a
shoulder length bob with feathered bangs. Using a round bristle brush
and blow dryer she gave it a big poofed out look with the ends turned
under. Using a lot of hairspray it was set in a very stiff, shiny do and
the smell of varnish heavy in the air. Way too feminine for any real
boy. Finished with my hair she tucked a bath towel around my chest and
told me to go get dressed and not mess with my hair. When I saw what she
had done to it in my dresser mirror, I wanted to rush back into the
bathroom and stick my head under the shower. She was still there so all
I could do was get dressed, so much for my first up close and personal
encounter with Delilah.

I actually didn't meet Bertha for several weeks after she was brought on
board but I immediately became familiar with her cooking. I'm on the
skinny side but all I got to eat was vegan and a bunch of heath
supplements to swallow down with the bitter tea I was served. By the
time Bertha changed my diet to the complete opposite but with very little
red meat, I looked anorexic. With the lack of real protein and being
banned from the basement workout room, my muscle loss was apparent.

I just wish I could avoid Delilah like I could Stephanie. Looking back
on it I guess it was Stephanie doing the avoiding. Anyway Delilah made
it her business to give me my morning and evening toilet. She made sure
I took a bath using lots of bath beads and fragrant floral oils twice a
day. I was spared some embarrassment as she let me wash myself but she
applied that foul smelling lotion that burned once every day. I later
learned that it was a strong depilatory that in time made my body hair
loss permanent. My hair was shampooed and conditioned every third day.
She made me brush it out into that big hair look that I hated. At night
she would make me roll the ends in large bristle rollers. I used smaller
ones to roll my bangs.

That first night was probably the worse as I stared into my dresser
mirror. My reflection wasn't all me. It was like a girl me if you know
what I mean. I had on a blue night mask that covered my face except for
the eyes and lips, large pink rollers decorated my neck, smaller ones
went across my forehead and a neon blue hair net held it all in place. I
also had white gloves on. Under those was a pair of plastic ones to keep
the lotion covering my hands from seeping through. Apparently Delilah
didn't approve of the calluses and rough skin. I lost some more of my
masculinity that night.

Other than Delilah's daily visits and meal time I was left to myself
during that weekend. I wanted to go out and play ball or just hang with
my friends but with that big sissy hair didn't dare. I tried hiding it
under a ball cap but that failed miserably. I thought briefly about just
sticking my head under the shower but had been told in no uncertain terms
what would happen if I messed it up. As a result I stayed at the house
mostly in my room looking at porn or chatting with my friends. Of course
they wanted to know why I was pulled from classes. All I could say was
that she made me and I had no choice. I didn't have a car yet. My
parents were going to give me one when I turned eighteen in a few more
months so I was completely isolated. Like Stephanie would drive me to
see my friends anyway.

Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you that I did put up a fight if you could call
it that. That very first night after she had given me my first bath
Delilah came into my room without knocking I might add. When she said it
was time for my bath, I refused. I was standing, just having put down my
lap top, when she entered. She couldn't surprise me with that ear grab
plus I could block a slap now that I knew her tactics and she was a girl
after all. I didn't know she knew martial arts. She quickly had me in
tears and very compliant. Being defeated by a mere girl only slightly
bigger than you is not conducive to boosting one's ego.

Stephanie's aloofness and Delilah's treatment were nothing compared to
Madam Simms. She scared the hell out of me the first time we met. Like
I said she was a big severe looking woman and as she examined me I felt
like a bug under a microscope. I had been called into Stephanie's office
to meet her the day she arrived. I wasn't all that confident with that
big hair style and when I looked into her eyes shriveled up inside.

As soon as her eyes fell on me she snapped, "Stand up straight with your
arms at your sides, feet together and chest out. Now pull your left leg
back a bit, take your thumb and forefinger to grasp the sides of your
slacks then bend your right knee keeping your back straight and chin
tilted down."

I was so intimidated by her that I did what she said without any real
thought. I know I must have looked like an idiot as I awkwardly
complied. All she said was "Dismal but that will be remedied. Now stand
there and be quite," turning her attention back to Stephanie. They
talked for a few minutes as if I weren't even in the room before they
turned their attention back to me.

"This is Madam Simms and your new nanny. I have given her complete
authority to do anything she deems appropriate. I have given her
permission to punish misbehavior anyway she desires to correct that
behavior. Understood?" Stephanie stated.

I could only nod my head in response. I was too frightened hearing the
words "nanny" and "punish." I didn't understand the part about her being
my nanny as I was much too old for a nanny but I did understand the
punish part. Looking at Madam Simms I guessed that the tortures of the
Spanish Inquisition would have been a preferable alternative. Over time
I learned that alternative was indeed preferable.

"I'm glad you understand your position in this household Dale. Madam
Simms, I guess you need to unpack before you begin his instruction?"

"No I think it best if I e***** Dale to his room now. I see that I have
much work to do. Give your aunt a curtsey c***d," she replied putting
her big hand on my neck giving me a downward shove.

Leaving the office she surprised me yet again by telling me to walk ahead
of her. Have you any idea how disconcerting it is to have someone
walking right behind you muttering over and over, "Oh that will never
do?" It gave me the creeps and this woman was scary enough as it was.
Arriving at my room I found the door both closed and locked. I never
locked my door. My confusion was answered as she grabbed me by the back
to the neck and steered me further down the corridor to the second room
from the end. It was one of the rooms Stephanie had remodeled of the
three at this end of the corridor. Madam Simms removed a key and opened
the door pushing me through as the door swung wide.

I stood stunned as I looked about the room. It was a girls room and not
only that but a very ***********s room. The walls were painted powder
pink covered with cartoon decals of Disney princesses and cute a****ls.
A very thick lavender rug covered the floor. In one corner was a large
Victorian white and blue painted doll house with several dolls placed
nearby and a hope chest. Not far from the doll house was a pink rocking
horse and next to it was a white with pink rose bush imprinted play pen
with a pink pad filled with stuffed a****ls and foam blocks. On the
other side of the room was a twin sized bed but it was a white enameled
with pink rose bush design crib. It had thin metal rails and a mesh
steel top that locked in place to keep me from getting out. Over the
crib whirled a mobile with multi-colored butterflies.

Across from the bed's footboard was a pink padded changing table with
eight drawers. Next to the bed was a night stand and princess lamp. A
small table with straight back chair had a pink lap top computer and CD
player sitting on it. The large walk-in closet seemed to be bulging with
*********** dresses. A large dresser and small vanity again with that
same rose bush design completed the furnishings. There were no windows
as this was an inside room and it reeked of flowers. My eyes still
traveling around that horrible room I took a step back then another
before I felt two large hands tightly grip my shoulders. As she turned
me to face her, I saw her sneering smile.

"There's no time like the present to begin your instruction. Yes, this
is your new room. From now on until you can prove to me that you are
both willing and compliant to my wishes it will be all you know. As you
may have guessed from the furnishings and decoration the person that
lives in this room is a very ***********. You are now that ***********
and will answer to the name of Darla Jean. The sooner you learn that you
are Darla Jean and behave like a *********** you can move out of here and
into a much older girl's room. If you don't do everything I say and do
it happily you may be stuck here for a very long time. How long you stay
as a diapered *********** is strictly up to you. Understand Darla Jean?
Now let's get you dressed appropriately," she said pulling my shirt over
my head as she pushed me toward the changing table.

"Diapers! ***********! Darla Jean! Stuck in this icky room! No, this
is too outrageous and I'm not going to stand for this. I'm a grown man,"
my mind screamed.

Even with my arms entangled in the shirt my head still covered, I began
to resist as much as I possibly could. I was picked up by very strong
arms and laid across the changing table. With one hand pressing down on
my back I heard a draw open and then only pain. She paddled my poor
bottom for what seemed like hours before she let me fall to the carpeted
floor. I lay curled up on the floor crying as she moved about the room.
When my tears became sniffles she pulled me to my feet and quickly
removed my slacks, boxers and the shirt off my arms. She effortlessly
lifted me onto the changing table and fastened a restraining belt over my
chest pinning my arms in the process.

"That should keep you under control as I prepare you for your first
diapering. Before I do that we have to do something about that little
deformity between your legs," she stated.

What she did next destroyed what manhood I had left. It was a male
chastity device that kept my penis very shrunken and pointing down. My
poor balls were stuffed back up inside the body cavity they descended
from which caused new tears and a nauseous feeling. Putting everything
to shame used during the Inquisition this device had adjustable sharp
pointed teeth built in.

She would replace those barbs with new longer and sharper ones as time
passed. If the tiniest erection tried to form, it proved most painful
and occasionally brought little pricks of blood. I could pee with it on
but would have to sit to do so. I can't tell you how many times I tried
to get that damn thing off but every attempt resulted in painful failure.
Without the key the only way to remove it was to cut my penis off which
wasn't an option as far as I was concerned. Over time and much pain all
I had left showing between my legs was a small none functioning penis and
empty shriveled sack.

Compared to the chastity device being diapered was a walk in the park.
She used thick pink cloth diapers with a soaker to diaper me and covered
them in a translucent lavender plastic diaper cover with six rows of
white floral ruffled lace on the bottom. Next she pulled dainty white
nylon socks on my feet with bright yellow ruffles. Diapered she helped
me stand. The thick bulk of the diaper between my legs forced me to
stand uncomfortably with my thighs spread. It forced me to walk with
what I can only describe as a waddle. As I stood, she put a bright
canary yellow with white lace trimmed training bra on me.

"Yo....you...do..don't want m...me to...actually use these?" I stuttered fearing
the worse placing my hand on the front of my diapers.

"Actually I do except if you have to do a number two you will tell me and
I will let you use the potty provided you have behaved," she curtly
responded. It wasn't the answer I wanted to hear but like I had any
choice and it could have been much worse.

She took my hand and led me to the closet where she removed a canary
yellow satin ***********'s party dress. I spotted a toddler's pink potty
chair sitting in the corner. The dress had large puffed short sleeves
with heavily laced cuffs in white tying off with yellow satin ribbon
bows. It was square necked with a short waist and box pleated full skirt
supported by three stiff built in net petticoats. The short bodice had
four rows of white satin bows running down the front in a "V" pattern.
The hem of the flaring skirt didn't cover but half of my butt exposing a
lot of my diapered ass.

I was surprised that the girlie clothing actually fit. Not too tight or
too loose. The only discomfort beside it being on me was that caused by
the net petticoats. They made my upper legs itch like crazy. Later I
learned that Stephanie had the clothing made to my measurements. That
fact also told me that Stephanie had my girlhood planed from very early
on and wasn't a spur of the moment decision.

Dressed I was then taken over to the vanity where she fashioned my long
hair into pleated pig tails tying them off with yellow satin ribbons with
long streamers. With the hair styled, she coated my lashes with black
lengthening mascara and my lips in a pearl pink. The lipstick made my
lips tingle. I had never worn or paid attention to lipstick ads but from
kissing my girlfriends never felt my lips tingle. Much later I learned
she was using a lipstick with a chemical additive that would swell my
lips. Again, over time, my lips became permanent soft pillows. She
finished me off with a heady floral perfume. All I could do was watch my
reflection in the vanity mirror as she turned me from boy to girl.

Diapered, dressed and made up she took me to the doll house. "I have
unpacking to do so I want you to sit here and play with your dollies.
You can find different outfits and accessories for them in the hope
chest. While I'm gone I expect you to play enthusiastically just like a
real ***********. This room is wired for both sound and pictures so I'll
know if you don't," she said as she put a disc into the CD player.

When she left the room I scanned the room more closely. Sure enough,
they were small but I counted six cameras. Defeated, I picked up one of
the dolls. I just held it as I had no idea of what to do next. I was a
guy and never played with dolls, girl dolls anyway. When I was a lot
younger I played with action figures. Now that I thought about it
"action figure" was just a ruse cause they were really dolls.
Remembering she said something about different outfits, I decided to
change the dolls clothing. As I played with the stupid doll I felt like
a fool. This was so unmanly but I went through the motions. Oh yeah,
the music I had to listen to was very irritating. It was nothing but
nursery rhymes set to music, so ******ile and sung in a high pitched
*********** voice.

I eventually got tired of changing the dolls clothing and opened the doll
house to see the inside. It was divided into various rooms just like
you'd find in a regular house's floor plan along with the miniature
furniture. I figured out that "playing house" was nothing more than a
*********** imitating grown up life.

"You want me to become a ***********? I don't have the faintest idea
about being a fuckin' ***********!" I screamed in frustration and anger
forgetting about the microphones.

Madam Simms came back and said, "So you don't know anything about being a
'fuckin' ***********' do you? For that you earned a good mouth washing
for cussing and instruction on how to be a good ***********. Oh, and for
yelling, your diapers will not be changed until tomorrow morning."

If you have ever tasted and swallowed soap you know the icky nauseous
cramping it can cause. The suds even get into your nose and it takes
like forever to stop smelling it. This was my first experience and a
very demeaning one at that. It was something I didn't want repeated but
over time I tasted more soap than I ever wanted. When my diapers were
finally changed, it was both a great relief and mortifying. They were
very wet and extremely stinky. Actually when you first pee in them the
warm wetness felt nice but when it cooled became unpleasant quickly. Add
in a stinky slimy pile of crap which spreads all over down there and you
have a very miserable time. She made sure I did both pee and p*o-p*o. I
was given many bottles of baby formula laced with both laxative and
diuretic to drink out of large baby bottles. The rubber nipples on the
bottles were three inches long, one inch in diameter and shaped like
dicks. It took a hard paddling before I could put that into my mouth and
suck on it. The taste of the formula made me want to gag but my burning
bottom kept me sucking.

With my mouth thoroughly washed out, she sat me at the small table and
powered up the computer. I spent the next two hours playing various
games designed for little princesses and another hour on a site that was
an electronic version of paper dolls. Having to do that was almost as
bad as the mouth washing.

I don't know how long I was isolated in that room. There were no windows
or clocks to tell the time or day. Madam Simms made sure I had no idea
or capability to figure it out either. She varied the times I was put to
bed. Sometimes I would be fully awake and into the crib. At other times
I would be dead tired and still not in my crib. For awhile I tried to
keep track by scratching a notch on the closet door but gave that up as
pointless.

My awake time was spent playing with my dollies or in the play pen with
my stuffed a****ls. When not doing that I was at the computer playing
those *********** games or memorizing *********** etiquette from a book
published in 1948. The CD kept playing that *********** singing nursery
rhymes over and over until bed time. It got to the point where I heard
that shrill *********** voice singing in my head in my sleep.

I was always dressed in satin party dresses in various pastel colors with
lots of stiff net crinolines. Delilah would come into my room in the
mornings and bed time to make sure I followed my toilet. My food was a
mush of adult food put into a blender and my liquids mostly baby formula.
Of course I had my handful of vitamins to take each morning and bed time.

During my play time I didn't see much of Madam Simms. She didn't need to
be there because of all the monitors but I spent time with her every day.
It was my class time in which I learned to write in girlish script, speak
in a ***********ish voice, move and behave like a girl per the etiquette
book. Again I tried to resist but having a wet and messy diaper for two
days without a change or spanking put a stop to that.

The only time my chastity device came off was for cleaning when I had a
messy diaper. I was never given the opportunity to play with it.
Something I longed to do. I barely remembered the last time I got to
touch it and have the relief I so desperately needed. Despite wanting
relief and totally sexually frustrated the sharp barbs in the device
ensured that I wouldn't get hard. The pain had me doubled over many
times but not so often now. I had vowed to endeavor to persevere and
keep my identity safe and sane but this *********** treatment was
breaking my will power.

By the time I was allowed out of that torture chamber I was singing along
with that *********** in a similar voice without even knowing that I was
doing so. I dropped a curtsey every time someone entered or left the
room, asked me a question or told me to do something without thought. I
hated being treated like a toddler especially the diapers so I did what I
had to in order to get out. I worked hard to become what they wanted so
I could get out of there.

One day Madam Simms entered my room and said what I longed to hear.
"Darla Jean you have shown some progress and I've decided to let you grow
up. Just remember this room is still yours and you can move back into it
as quickly as you have moved out. Now come along Delilah is waiting to
give you your morning toilet."

"Yes Madam Simms, thank you so much. I promise to behave," I replied
happily while dipping into a cute curtsey.

Ooo

I was hoping now that she had decided to let me grow up I wouldn't have
to perform those humiliating curtseys. I didn't realize just how
habitual that task had become and found myself curtseying like I had been
taught. After she told me I didn't have to curtsey all the time only
when first greeting her in the morning, it took time before I actually
could.

My biggest hope was that she would stop all this silliness and let me go
back to being a man. That hope immediately died when I saw my new room.
Yeah, you guessed it. Another ultra-feminine girl's room decorated to
please the heart of any teenaged girl. It was bigger than the one I left
but just as distasteful to me. The walls were painted in lavender with
pink vertical pen stripes and the floor covered in a plush beige carpet.
At least this room had a window so I could look out on the world
something I hadn't done in ages. It was treated with pinkish orange
satin curtains and bone colored blinds. All the furniture was French
Provencal, white enameled with gold piping. A queen sized bed with pink
chiffon canopy that d****d in billowing folds down the spindle posters
and tied off in large pink satin bows dominated the room. There was an
eight drawer dresser, side tables, vanity with lavender satin box pleated
skirting and matching bench seat and a small table with straight backed
chair completed the furnishings. The room had an attached full bath and
very large walk-in mirrored closet.

The bed had a bright white pillowed satin comforter with small pink rose
buds, two large pillows that matched the comforter, a large red satin
heart pillow with white lace trim was placed between the two larger ones,
white linens with a small floral print and pink satin skirting. The
bedside table held a white porcelain doll lamp and alarm clock. The lamp
shade was a miniature frilled parasol in pinks and lavenders. On top of
the dresser were two large dolls dressed in fancy costume representing
s*******nth century French ladies. On the wall facing the bed was a
large poster depicting Justin Bieber who I detested. On the wall beside
the bed was another large picture of a prima ballerina en pointe as the
swan in Swan Lake. There were two other posters on each side of the
window. One was some boy band I never heard of and the other featured
the pirate character "Jack Sparrow". Beside the feminine décor there was
a prevailing aroma of flowers filling the room. I didn't like it but it
beat the heck out of smelling baby power and stinky diapers.

Unlike the nursery this room had its own bathroom. The bathroom was
decorated with pink and white tiles, had a large footed tub, commode,
linen closet and white marble counter top with sink. A mirror ran the
entire length of the counter top and very well lit. It was great to have
a bathroom to use again but it had its drawbacks. The commode was
covered in a pink fuzzy tank top and seat cover which matched the small
rug around the base. I had always hated such decoration as when I stood
to pee the thickness of the seat cover wouldn't keep the seat up. Oh
well, that didn't matter now because I always sat to pee. It also didn't
have a shower which I dearly missed.

Again I was told that this would be my room until I displayed the
appropriate behavior of a young girl. Like I said I wasn't happy but it
beat being in the nursery and out of diapers. Actually I should tell the
truth. I was more than happy to be out of the nursery. I was ecstatic.

Instead of diapers I now wore cotton panties usually with floral prints,
training bras which were white cotton with a pink ribbon decoration. My
wardrobe was mostly dresses, skirts and blouses suitable for a young girl
of ten or eleven. I also had a few pair of girly shorts and tees. I
didn't mind the upgraded clothing choices so much but seeing the leotards
and tutus did. Another new addition that I wasn't overly pleased to see
was all the different cosmetics on the vanity and in the linen closet. I
soon learned that the cosmetics on the vanity weren't real in that they
were "play" lipsticks and powders that could be easily removed from any
surface. However, all the different nail varnishes were the real thing.
The linen closet contained container after container of bath beads, bath
oils, moisturizers and body lotions.

There were a few things brought in from the nursery, the pink computer,
CD player and my "favorite" dolly. Instead of nursery rhymes I had to
listen to boy bands, Hanna Montana and the like all day. They were
almost as nauseating as that ***********'s voice singing in the nursery.
Like before, it wasn't long before I was unthinkingly singing along with
the CD's. My computer was now used to watch various teen idol, fashion
and social media suitable for a young girl. I was also given several
magazines and books catering to young girls.

Delilah came in every morning and evening to instruct and observe my
morning and evening toilet. She also instructed me in the proper use of
all those lotions and creams I was now expected to use daily. She spent
time teaching me how to braid my hair and use things like barrettes,
clips and bobby pins to create different hair styles. I found "playing"
with my cosmetics the worst as what man would do that. Seeing me wearing
bright pink lipstick and green eye shadow was another major blow to my
masculinity.

Of course I saw Madam Simms on a daily basis for at least four hours. I
still had to practice the basics like writing femininely, voice training
and behavior. For my poise and behavior lessons I was given a book for
young lady's published in 1952. A couple of nauseating chapters in this
book described basic feminine hygiene. Madam Simms not only made sure I
knew the contents of those chapters completely but practiced them as
well. Since I didn't have a pussy you can guess the substitute I
practiced on. Looking back those lessons weren't that bad as I was
considered too young to have a period.

Other than "growing up" the other big change was Mademoiselle Lily. I
saw her Monday through Friday for two hours for ballet lessons. She came
to the house and taught me in the basement exercise room. When I first
went down there I was surprised to see all the weight and strength
training equipment gone. The room had been remodeled into a mirrored
dance studio for the most part with a small section devoted to a tread
mill, step climber and stationary bike. Mademoiselle Lily was a tall
thin woman, perhaps in her mid-forties and very demanding. Those first
lessons left my body hurting in places I didn't know you could hurt but
in time I adapted. The only time I left my room was for dance. It
wasn't a lot of freedom but better than the nursery that I never left.

It was during my "young girl" time that I noticed that my nipples were
becoming sensitive and seemed to have developed lumps under them. I
should have been more concerned then but I figured that wearing a
training bra all the time was the cause. Another thing I wrongfully
disregarded was not having much feeling in my groin or having an
erection. Actually at the time not having one was a big relief as the
barbs on the chastity device had been very painful.

It was in this room that I learned the basics of young girlhood and
ballet. I was taught the rudiments of clothing coordination and care,
cosmetic application, hair, nails and skin care, sewing and how to keep
my room spotless. More importantly what Madam Simms ingrained into my
mind set were the things that entertained and were enjoyed activities of
a young girl. Things like being boy crazy, makeup application, fashion
and music. They weren't enjoyable or entertaining to me but I did appear
to love those activities. Like I said, the punishments just weren't
worth my defiance.

Another good thing about that time was that I could actually keep track
of it. I had an alarm clock and there was a window I could look out of.
Finally Madam Simms said I was ready to move into my new room. I spent a
little over six months in that room and had really concentrated on my
studies and behavior. Yes, I knew what the Stockholm Syndrome was but I
had to be that way or it was back to the nursery plus I wanted to escape
all my tormentors. The only way I could do that would be to advance to
the next level. If I were treated more my true age and had more freedom
of movement I just might be able to escape. I pinned all my hopes and
desires to get to that level for the sole reason of escaping. I also
held a dim hope that now I would be allowed back into my boy clothing.
Like I said it was a dim hope but I had to hold onto the belief that I
would eventually get to be myself again.

Ooo

My new room, wow, it was just as feminine as the last. The walls were a
pale egg shell white with a wide floral boarder and cream plush
carpeting. The furnishings were in the same style as in my previous room
except the white enamel with gold piping was gone. This furniture was in
its natural maple wood and the canopy gone from the bed posts. The satin
skirting on the vanity and bench seat was a powder pink and the linens
were sensual lavender satin with a bright pink pillowed satin comforter.
The attached bath still didn't have a shower but this tub was a whirlpool
which I came to enjoy very much.

While the room and bath were not that much different the wall décor
certainly was. Instead of Justin the large framed one on the wall at the
foot of the bed was very disturbing. It depicted a heavily muscled man
wearing nothing but a Speedo that emphasized his very prominent package.
That picture would be the first thing I saw in the morning and the last I
would see at night. On the wall beside the bed was another large framed
picture. It depicted a prima ballerina en pointe wearing an elaborate
leotard and tutu. Two posters decorated the wall on each side of the
lavender satin curtains. One was Brad Pitt and the other Johnny Depp.
The aroma filling the room wasn't just the floral scent I was use to.
This one had a hint of spice and musk which I liked better than that
overly sweet floral scent.

The lighted vanity was overflowing with cosmetics and hair care products
only this time they were not k**'s stuff. The large walk-in closet was
overflowing with dresses, skirts, blouses, fancy nighties and tons of
shoes. Up until this point what shoes I had worn were either Mary Jane
styles, tennis or shoes with a one or two inch block heel. I spotted
several pairs in this closet with what looked like a seven inch spiked
heel and a thick platform sole. Seeing those shoes sent a shiver up my
spine and for just a second I had misgivings about coming here.

Opening the top drawer of my dresser I found it stuffed with different
styles and colors of nylon and lace frilled panties. In the second I
found, stacked in neat rows, many different kinds of bras with a satiny
finish. The third had camisoles, full and half slips all lavished with
lace and made of the slinkiest of fabrics. The forth was filled with
foundation garments most of which I was totally unfamiliar with. It
didn't take me long to hate the training corsets. The fifth was filled
with fancy garter belts and hosiery and the sixth had an assortment of
leggings most in a bright floral pattern and a few Capri's. The belts,
scarves and purses were in containers inside the closet.

After looking around my new room I was both pleased and saddened by the
lack of anything remotely masculine. I was pleased that it was a more
adult room and saddened that my enforced feminization would be
continuing. Again Madam Simms informed me that my old room and the
nursery were still mine and I could wind up back into either of them if I
didn't display the utmost concentration on my studies and behavior. She
also informed me that if I did well and showed enthusiasm that I would be
allowed trips out of the house.

Let me tell you those threats were taken very seriously. If you don't
believe me then you wear the same diaper for two days. That's the kind
of memory that never fades or having to listen to Justin and other boy
bands sing the same songs over and over again all the time you are awake.
See if you can take that for a week. The carrot she dangled in front of
me, getting out of the house, was a really great incentive. I was
salivating at the very thought of a much greater chance to escape. So
don't blame me for doing my very best to comply with her demands.

Becoming an older teenager had other benefits such as Delilah no longer
came to supervise my toilet. It really didn't matter because by now I
did my morning and evening toilet automatically without thought. My
meals became real none vegan food although I seldom ever got any red
meat. Oh what I would give for a hamburger or better yet a nice thick
juicy steak. The few times I was served a small piece of red meat, I
savored it like one would a rare vintage glass of wine. With the richer
diet I was gaining weight which introduced me to my most hated feminine
garment, the training corset.

This particular corset was made of a heavy canvas like material with
elastic bands and panels strategically placed to pull in my stomach,
round my shoulders and up lift my butt. It had a smooth soft lining,
rigid stiff metal boning, zipped up the front and tied off in the back
with laces. It was a miserable thing to wear, keeping my back ram rod
straight and retained heat. Fortunately, I only had to wear it at night
but my day time corsets weren't much better. I have to admit that they
were very pretty. These corsets were made of satin in bright colors and
frilled with contrasting lace and satin ribbon bows. The training corset
reached from just below my breasts down to mid-thigh while my day time
ones stopped at crotch level. They both had one thing in common besides
being uncomfortable. They kept my back ram rod straight, my waist and
stomach in and my butt and chest out.

Another bothersome item was added to my feet when I went to bed. It was
like a five inch wedged heeled pointed toed sandal except it was covered
in black leather and laced up to just past my ankles. This device kept
my feet angled downward at a steep uncomfortable angle. I later
discovered that his horrible device, when worn over time, would shorten
my Achilles tendons forcing me to wear high heels all the time. It also
forced my toes into a permanent "V" with my big and little toes pointing
inward at a sharp angle. My feet ache all the time now but hurt if I'm
not wearing at least a four inch heel. It is the reason that when doing
ballet, I'm en pointe most of the time.

Madam Simms continued my lessons in deportment, voice and penmanship.
Only this time the deportment and penmanship lessons were very different.
Deportment emphasized female to male relationships and flirting
techniques. For penmanship I was given a pink leather bound diary in
which I wrote down my innermost thoughts. Both of these changes were
extremely embarrassing and humiliating and the worst I had encountered so
far. These lessons were very mortifying and humiliating for me and I
balked at first but going back was out of the question. I had to get
away and my best chances lie in staying in this room.

I hated having to master flirting techniques like batting my eye lashes,
pouting just so, even to how I licked my lips plus other methods to
attract male attention. Madam Simms had given me an anatomically correct
love doll to practice my more advanced education. I spent a lot of time
just reading magazines like "Cosmo," "Play Girl," "s*******n," and the
like. In addition I read a lot of romance novels and watched way too
many chick flicks.

An hour before bedtime each night I had to make entries into my diary.
If you think those entries were just mundane repetitions of what happened
to me that day you're wrong. No, I had to make entries not only in a
neat feminine script but from a girl's point of view. My love doll's
name was Jake, no mistaking the gender of that name, became "my"
boyfriend. As such, I made daily entries into my diary all about how
"wonderful," "darling," and "sweet" he was to be with and how much I
"wanted" him in a much more personal way. Yuck! If you read my diary you
would swear a love sick *********t girl was the author. It took several
months, some pain and nausea before I acted excited and enthusiastic
enough to please my nanny.

It was also determined by Madam Simms that I was now old enough to have
my period. Now that was almost as disgusting as having to make out with
Jake. I learned all about keeping track of my cycle, the use of tampons,
pads and other hygiene practices of a woman who's sexually active.

Most of my lessons concentrated on my inter-personal relationships and
hygiene but not all. I had to keep up with the latest fashions, makeup
and music plus I had ballet. I eagerly awaited my dance classes as I was
driven to Madam Lily's studio for those. There is no way to put into
words how delighted I was to actually be outside but these excursions
were closely supervised. I was entered into her regular class of girls
about my own age. I was scared, shy and intimidated attending those
first classes. I was scared that I would be discovered as a boy. I was
shy being the "new girl" and never had to socialize with them as an equal
before. Their talent intimidated me as I didn't have the long term
training they had. However after two or three classes I became very
comfortable being around them. With all my training I could easily talk
on their level about fashions, makeup, boys, music and boys. Within a
few weeks I was friends with most of the f******n girls in the class.

Ballet was a welcome relief from my intensive "girlie" training and just
being able to talk to others my age refreshing. Looking back on those
early days I should have expected something was wrong. I still thought
of myself as a male but I had absolutely no sexual feelings towards any
of them. What I found myself doing was comparing their clothing, style
and looks to my own. Even Heather the prettiest girl in my class with
her firm C-cup breasts, flowing golden hair and green eyes didn't get a
physical reaction out of me. I just lusted after her beautiful green
eyes wishing I had them.

My trips out of the house were not just to ballet. Occasionally Madam
Simms e*****ed me to the mall to do window shopping mostly. She used
these times to observe me using my flirting techniques to get boys
interested in me and how I reacted to seeing a really cute outfit.
Initially I used these trips to see if I could find a way to escape but
over time the impossibility of it dawned on me. Madam Simms kept a very
tight rein on me and never let me out of her sight or grasp. Once I saw
a police officer close by and thought about running up to him and
pleading for help but didn't have the courage.

Think about it, I looked and appeared to be a pretty teenage girl. I was
dressed in panties, B-cup naturally filled out bra, frilly semi-
transparent pink nylon blouse, black mini-skirt, black hose and pink four
inch spike heeled strappy sandals. I had been using my feminine voice
for so long there was no way I could ever sound like a man and in full
makeup. None of the girls at ballet had a second thought that I was
anything but a pretty eighteen year old girl. Even I no longer
questioned that after seeing myself so many times in the mirror. The
only thing that proved otherwise was my chastity device. If I ran up to
that officer and said I was a boy being forced to wear girl's clothing by
the time he quit laughing Madam Simms would have pulled me away. I
didn't even want to think of the punishment that act would get me. After
that day I pretty much gave up any hope of escaping my fate. Hell, by
now, even my thought processes were becoming almost totally feminine. I
found myself thinking of myself as a girl more and more as each day
passed. I even tried walking and behaving like a boy a few times but
failed dismally. My only hope now rested in becoming all the girl I
possibly could so that Stephanie would release me from Madam Simms.

Now that I had been in this room for a few months, I saw Stephanie more
and more often. At first she was still very cold and aloft but gradually
she seemed to warm. On her last visit she hinted that if I continued to
behave and conduct myself as the pretty girl I appeared to be she would
let me continue to live in the house without any direct supervision.

Talk about an incentive. So I did my very best and completely submerged
my real self some where in the very back of my mind. After another six
months, I was given a choice by Stephanie.

"Darla Jean I have a proposition for your consideration. You can
continue here under Madam Simms's care or you can move on with your life.
No, don't say anything until you hear me out. Should you decide to move
on, you will have to agree to go out with a young man I have selected.
He comes from a good family and, in a way, is special like you are. I
need to form a relationship with his family and getting you two together
will seal the deal. You have until your ballet recital next Saturday to
give me your answer, any questions?" she said.

To say that I was shocked would be an understatement. Go out with a boy,
was the first question that hit me and the second was could I even do
that. I don't know how long I sat there with my mouth working but
nothing coming out but finally managed to ask,"Wha...what do..do you mean
go out?"

"What I mean is that you will agree to marry this gentleman if he asks
and become his legal wife. This state recognizes same sex marriages and
your union will form the business base that I need. Like I said, don't
give me your answer now wait until after your recital and get to meet
him. If I were you, I'd give my request very serious thought," she said
getting up and leaving.

Holy crap! That was a stunner. I never expected anything like that and
was totally taken away by her demands. What was I going to do? I wasn't
gay but then again I wasn't a real man anymore either. My penis was
small and didn't really work, I had real boobs and a full B-cup at that.
Thanks to my corsetry my body shape was definitely female and I had to
wear at least four inch heels to even walk comfortably. As I peered into
my full length mirror all I saw was a young woman and a pretty one at
that. Madam Simms's intense training regarding female to male
relationships had really dimmed my aversion to gay sex. Not totally but
to a large extent anyway in that I didn't toss my cookies or get sick
performing those intimate acts.

There was that great big carrot though. I could get my freedom from not
only Madam Simms but Stephanie as well. It would be a totally different
life than what I had planned but still I had been living full time as a
girl for about two years. There were even aspects of womanhood that I
actually had grown to enjoy. Things like the wonderful clothing choices
and variety, the silkiness of the lingerie and that I could show my
emotions or silliness without qualms.

So here I sit awaiting my cue to go on stage. I met my husband to be,
you might have guessed it, his name is Jake. To be exact Jake
Summersfield Esquire, the third son of the Summersfield's of New York.
He's tall, quite handsome with a muscled frame and a junior partner in
his father's prestigious law firm. I still haven't made my final
decision yet but my time is running out. Oh dear, that's my cue. What
am I gonna do?

The End


I haven't been posting a lot on FM but this story is in a new format and
wanted your feedback. I'm currently submitting most of my stories to
tgstories.com. They don't provide an Author search but I will email all
that I have submitted should you desire.














Prissy Sissy

By Cheryl Lynn

This is a short work of fiction rushed to a conclusion. It may be
downloaded for personal use only, any other use forbidden unless approved
by the author. All the usual disclaimers apply. Not for the faint of
heart or sweet/sentimental reader. I was going to submit this to
tgstories.com but decided to leave it short and unsweetened.
Constructive criticism and comments welcome at cheryl2lynn@yahoo.com.


Prissy Sissy

Ned Baxter was a fairly normal k**, living a normal life with his mom and
dad in a nice house. The house was a five bedroom three bath ranch style
in a nice suburban area. The home owners association made sure the
communal areas were kept up and decorated extensively during the
holidays. Many of the home owners vied with one another during the
holidays to see who could put out the best decorations as well. Ned
really enjoyed growing up in that neighborhood.

Ned was almost s*******n, five six and weighed one hundred ten pounds
with shoulder length light brown hair when they moved into the new
neighborhood. He usually had his hair tied into a low pony tail like his
father's. His dad was thirty-one, five nine and weighed one fifty-five
with collar length dark brown hair. Neither of them worked out but in
good health. They enjoyed watching sports, fishing and the outdoors.
With his mother's death neither had much desire to do anything other than
watch sports. Occasionally they went out to eat and see a movie but that
was about it. Jim owned a small computer business that he operated out
of a store front. He could easily have worked from home but the home
owners association prohibited home based businesses.

Ned and his father's life changed when his mother got sick and passed on
during his sophomore year. Everything around the house and neighborhood
were painful reminders of their loss. They both decided that moving
would help them get over the pain. During the summer before the start of
Ned's junior year, they moved from the suburbs. They settled into an
older much smaller three bedroom two bath wood framed house in the city.
The houses were built closer together. Most of the neighbors' were
elderly and stately oaks lined the streets. The neighborhood was exactly
what they needed as it was the complete opposite from what they were use
to. The only thing Ned didn't like was that there weren't any k**s
living in the area.

They were busy unpacking when the doorbell chimed. "Hi, I'm Daphne and
live in the house next door. I saw you and your daughter moving in and
thought you might like some fresh homemade cookies and spot of tea," she
said to his dad, Jim.

Daphne appeared to be in her late fifties, wearing a blue and white
checked gingham dress, salt and pepper hair cut in a short bob style,
sparkling blue eyes, plump but not fat. Jim just wanted to finish
unpacking but bowed to convention and invited her in.

"Thank you, I'm Jim Baxter and this is my son, Ned, please come on in,"
he replied.

"Oh I'm sorry, the long hair fooled me. I thought you had a daughter.
It's a shame, it would be nice to have a young girl moving into the
neighborhood," she said as she walked into the kitchen making her self
right at home.

"Gracie use to live here with her two girls and we were great friends. I
looked after the girls until they were into their late teens while she
went to work. Practically raised them myself, oh well, it's nice to have
new neighbors though," she continued as Jim dug into some boxes trying to
find cups and saucers.

Over cookies and tea Daphne wiggled out Jim and Ned's life story and by
the time she went home, was asked to watch over Ned. Ned didn't like the
idea and despite all his arguing after she left, his dad wouldn't change
his mind.

"Look son I can see your point but you know my hectic schedule. Schools
out and it seems like everyone either wants their computer fixed, up
graded or a new one. Plus Quantum Engineering wants me to re-do their
web site. With your mother gone, I have to have someone keep an eye on
you. Daphne seems like a nice woman, knows the neighborhood and lives
right next door. It's not like she's moving in. Now come on, help me
hook up the entertainment center so we can watch the ballgame tonight,"
Jim said ending the dispute.

Ooo

Monday morning after Jim left for work, Ned was busy setting up his
computer when Daphne walked in. "Good morning Ned. I just stopped by to
see if everything was alright."

"Jeez, don't you ever knock?" he said startled. Realizing he was only
wearing his boxers and tee, grabbed his jeans off the floor blushing.

"Sorry dear, I didn't mean to startle you. I still have Gracie's keys
and your father did ask me to keep an eye on you," she said as he was
stumbling around trying to get his jean on.

"I don't need someone to check on me. I'm old enough to take care of
myself," he yelled.

"Now don't take that tone with me missy! I've raised enough girls to
know what I'm doing," she snapped.

"I'm not some silly girl. I'm a guy and you don't need to check on me.
I can take care of myself," he shouted back.

"Well you could have fooled me with that long hair and it's obvious that
you don't know how to properly care for it either. Come with me and I'll
teach you how to care for it," she stated.

"Fuck you lady! I don't have to do what you say. Now get out of my room
and leave me the fuck alone!" he shouted defiantly. He was steamed by
her intrusion, calling him a girl and let his temper control his tongue.

Daphne walked over to where he was standing with his hands curled up into
fists. "Such a foul mouth on such a cute head, we'll have to correct
that, now won't we," she calmly replied.

Before he could react, she reached out, grabbed his right earlobe between
thumb and forefinger. With a firm hold on his ear, she pulled. With a
yelp of pain, Ned was forced to follow her into the bathroom. He slapped
at her arm trying to make her let go of his ear but that only made her
pull the harder. She was much stronger and his struggles only made the
pain emanating from his ear all the more. She shoved him away as she
shut and locked the bathroom door with a key she had taken from the white
cotton bib apron she wore. She turned back to face him. Her eyes
blazing in fury making him take a step back.

"Now missy we need to come to an understanding. I'm in charge and you
will do as I say. The first thing I'm going to do is wash those filthy
words out of your mouth then we are going to tend to that mop of hair.
You will learn to obey me or else," she seethed in anger.

Ned was bending over the commode, spittle and ***** spinning around in
the bowl. Daphne had thoroughly washed his mouth out with soap and he
was paying the price for it. The taste of soap was still strong as she
bent his head over the tub and soaked his hair under the shower spray.
With his hair wet, she moved him over to the sink and began shampooing
his hair. She used a small bottle of strawberry scented shampoo taken
from her apron pocket to saturate his long hair. There was enough to
wash his hair twice before using another bottle of conditioner. When she
had finished, she wrapped his wet hair in a turban, grabbed his earlobe
and led him from the bathroom into the kitchen. On the table was a pink
case she had brought over and removed a blow drier and bristle brush.
Thirty minutes later his hair was dry and brushed such that the ends
tucked under slightly above his shoulders.

"Now that looks much better. I expect you to take care of it just like
this from now on. Put your shoes on and we'll go over to my house. I
have everything you will need there," she said.

Ned did what she demanded. After the mouth washing he wasn't going to
object. "I'll tell dad as soon as he comes home and that bitch will be
history," he mumbled as he put on his flip flops.

Daphne's house had the same design as theirs but furnished and decorated
in an ultra-feminine style. The walls were painted in soft pinks and
lilacs with beige carpet or with floral wall paper and hardwood flooring.
The furniture was delicate with plush upholstery and lace doilies. The
house reeked of flowers and sweet perfume. Porcelain figurines and
crystal knick-knacks lined the shelves. The only thing remotely
masculine was a placard on the wall that said something about thirty
years of service from some nut house. He was led into one of the guest
rooms.

"This is the room Gracie's girls used when they stayed over. Never had
the heart to remove any of their things once they moved on," she said.

If anything this room was more girlie than the rest of the house. The
walls were painted in a soft pinkish egg shell color with a floral
boarder. The furniture was delicate, painted in white enamel with gold
piping. There was a lighted vanity with lavender satin skirting and
matching bench padded seat, eight drawer dresser, and straight backed
chair by the only window. The window had flowing soft pink with orange
highlighted curtains in a lustrous material. The queen sized brass bed
had a lavender chiffon canopy and matching satin skirting. A white
quilted satin comforter decorated with small red rose buds, pink linens
and two lace edged pillows covered the bed frame. The bedside table was
covered with a white lace d**** and had a pink ceramic lamp and alarm
clock sitting on it. The walls were decorated with a number of framed
prints. None of which a boy would ever want in his room. The most
disturbing for Ned was the one of an Olympic swimmer wearing a red, white
and blue Speedo that left little to the imagination.

She told him to go and sit on the vanity bench while she gathered what he
would need. Ned was on edge as he sat down. This was the most girlish
room he had ever seen and it made him feel like he was an invader. It
was a feminine sanctuary that boys should never be found in. He was very
uncomfortable sitting there as Daphne took the pink case she had brought
over and told him she would be right back.

When she came back she placed the case on the vanity and began pulling
items from the drawers. Besides the drier and brush he saw several
bottles of shampoo, condition and others he couldn't identify. The
brush, comb and drier he could understand but when she began putting in
large bristle rollers, hair pins, hair nets and setting gel into the case
he was confused. She looked at him, then opening another drawer put
several jars into the case.

"You're developing acne and these ointments will keep your face nice and
pretty," she said as she closed the case.

"I don't want to look pretty and what the hell is all that stuff she put
into that case. She can't be expecting me to actually use any of that,"
he thought as they headed by over to his house. On the way out, Daphne
grabbed a pink and white stripped bib apron from behind her kitchen door.

Back at the house she emptied the case into various drawers in what was
his bathroom. When everything was put away except for three jars, she
grabbed his chin, twisted it back and forth. "Yep, if you don't start
taking care of your skin properly you will scar that pretty face with
acne. I'll show you how to stop that from happening," she stated.

She opened the first jar and began rubbing the pink ointment onto his
face with a cotton pad. As she covered his lower face, she told him that
he needed to apply this cream twice a day. "Once in the morning and
before going to bed, leave it on for fifteen minutes then wash it off,"
she instructed. What she didn't tell him was that this lotion was a
depilatory and over time would destroy the hair follicles on his face.
The other lotion was a cleanser and the last a moisturizer. He had
several friends that suffered from bad acne so he didn't complain.

When she was satisfied that he knew what to do, she spent the rest of the
afternoon instructing and helping him clean the house. He had balked at
having to don the apron and doing what he called women's work. When she
asked how he expected the house to clean itself grumpily did as told. He
frowned as she looped the apron over his head and tied a floppy bow in
the back. They cleaned until it was time for his father to come home.
Daphne took him into the kitchen and taught him how to make supper. It
was simple, baked chicken breasts in cream of mushroom soup, broccoli and
boiled new potatoes. As his dad drove into the garage, she sent Ned to
clean up.

"Jim I hope you don't mind but I had to punish Ned this morning. When I
came by to check on him, he used some very vulgar words and told me to
get out. I washed his mouth out with soap. Young men should not be
allowed to use that kind of language around polite society. If you have
a problem with that, you can find someone else to look after him," she
said distraughtly.

"What? I'm sorry Daphne that Ned was so disrespectful. I'll have a talk
with him and while I don't like to punish him, I guess what you did is
alright. However, please, just tell me if he upsets you in the future
and I'll take care of it when I get home," Jim replied a bit shocked.

"I'll be going now. I showed Ned how to cook supper tonight and it will
be ready in a minute or two. I think we need to talk some more about me
watching over Ned. Would you mind coming over after you have had supper.
I'll have a pot of tea waiting," she replied.

Jim wasn't happy about what had happened while he was at work or that she
punished his boy but he needed someone to watch the k**. As they ate
supper, he gave Ned the riot act and told him that he expected better
from him in the future. After the meal, he went to see Daphne. He
didn't even notice that Ned's hair shined and was not in his usual low
pony tail.

Daphne greeted him warmly and led him into her kitchen. There she served
him a cup of tea and some cookies. Jim didn't particularly like tea
preferring coffee but the cookies were very good. As they talked he kept
nibbling at the cookies and drank several cups of her strange bitter
sweet tea. He was surprised when he got home to notice that it was
almost ten o'clock. "Where did the time go," he thought as he went to
get ready for bed. He had an early appointment in the morning and he was
surprisingly tired but relaxed.

The next morning she showed up with a small plate of cookies which she
let Ned have with a glass of milk. With nothing but crumbs on the plate
she took him into the bathroom. There she pulled out the bristle curlers
and began putting them in his hair wrapping them tightly to his scalp.
She did half his head then had him do the other half. With his hair
rolled, she placed a pink hairnet over them and tied it at the back.

"Ned, you want your hair to look nice don't you? To make it look nice
you will have to do this every night before you go to bed then brush it
out in the morning. Understand? Good, let's see if we can get some work
done today, shall we?" she said as he stared blankly into the mirror.

Over the next couple of months nothing much changed in the Baxter
household. Daphne came over every day except Sunday, checked to see that
he had followed her facial and hair regiment then helped Ned keep the
house clean. Every evening she would invite Jim over to discuss the
day's events over her cookies and tea. Ned was kept busy enough so that
he didn't have time to go out into the neighborhood exploring. The only
time he and his dad did anything was on Sundays. They enjoyed getting
out and doing things. Usually that involved going to catch a ball game
and a movie later.

Occasionally, Olivia came over from the house across the street to visit
with Daphne. She was in her early sixties, overly plump with gray hair
in a tight bun at the back of her head. The only makeup that she wore
was a bright red slash of lipstick and pink blush on her cheeks. She had
a large nose and wore thick black rimmed glasses and smelled of liniment
and baby powder. When she visited, they would sit and watch the soaps
while Ned did the housework. Ned didn't like Olivia as she was always
pinching his cheeks, calling him a "doll" and telling him what pretty
hair he had.

"Back before I retired I was a pretty darn good beautician doll. I met a
lot of women that would just die to have such body. What say you let me
work on it a bit? I could do wonders with hair like yours," she would
tease.

Ooo

At the beginning of August things began to change. The most notable was
his father. He was spending at lot of time over at Daphne's, coming home
late and going straight to bed. Only now he was looking older and more
stressed. His hair a bit longer now had a lot of gray running through
it. There were wrinkles and bags under his eyes where none had been
before. He was looking a lot older than his thirty-one years. The
biggest change though was his attitude. It seemed that whenever Daphne
suggested something he did it no matter how strange the request was. Ned
was surprised one Sunday as they were watching a ball game on television.
His dad was in a pair of kaki shorts and his legs were shaven clean of
any hair.

"Dad, what did you do? It looks like you shaved your legs. What's going
on?" Ned asked.

"Oh, that, nothing....Daphne suggested it. Said I would feel more
comfortable if I didn't have all this body hair while it's so hot out. I
thought it a bit silly at first but Olivia urged me to go ahead and try
it. No big deal. It will grown back but I do feel a lot cooler now.
Heck, you might even want to try it yourself," he replied dismissively.

"No way dad," was all Ned could reply.

What Ned didn't know was that by the end of July, Daphne had Jim under
her complete control. She had been giving him psychotropic d**gs infused
into her tea and cookies that made him highly susceptible to her
suggestions. The more of the d**gs he took the stronger her hold over
him. He also didn't know that his father was providing certain oral
pleasures to both Daphne and Olivia.

Changes were also happening to Ned. When Daphne noted that his hands
were red from his daily chores, she had him using a hand cream several
times a day. She had insisted since he was using the cream, that he rub
it onto his elbows and heels nightly to prevent chaffing. She also
insisted that he keep his nails looking nice. She taught him how to use
an emery board, cuticle stick and apply clear coat which he had to do
daily. To further protect his hands he now wore pink rubber gloves. He
had been shampooing and conditioning his hair every other day for so long
it had become an automatic function. His nightly use of the depilatory
and moisturizer had made his face smooth and delicate. Wearing the
bristle rollers to bed at night, at first irritating, no longer bothered
him.

Daphne was a hard taskmaster but often rewarded him with fresh baked
cookies in the afternoon. His belligerent attitude softened over those
two months. He often got really upset whenever she gave him a new chore
and stopped helping around the house but now he accepted what she
demanded. He was doing all the house work including the ironing. When
she started bringing over her own laundry for him to wash and iron, he
only grumbled under his breath. He was really embarrassed when he had to
hand wash her delicates then hang them to dry on the outside line.

One day as he was eating his cookies, she noticed large sweat stains on
his tee shirt and hauled him into the bathroom. "Ned you reek of sweat
and ruined your shirt so from now on I want your body hairless. You
don't want to smell like some filthy a****l, now do you? No, I didn't
think so. With all that hair gone, you won't sweat as much or ruin your
shirts. You will use this depilatory cream daily. You don't want to
stink or sweat so you will do this, understand?" she told him.

He mumbled a "yes" and nodded his head. His eyes had a glazed over look
as he stripped. She then covered his body in a cream that soon began
foaming and smelling like rotten eggs. He stood passively until it began
to burn his skin. He wanted to protest but decided the pain was worth it
if it removed his ugly body hair. As he applied a soothing moisturizer
to his denuded skin he felt like something was wrong but continued his
task without complaint.

About mid-August things took an even more strange twist. Jim always wore
a coat and tie to the office but now began wearing flare legged slacks
and pastel colored poly long sleeved light weight shirts with an open
collar. He kept his long hair loose which now seemed to have a lot more
curl than before. He was also gaining a lot of weight thanks to a high
caloric diet Daphne convinced him to go on. Ned on the other hand was
loosing weight. Over his objections, Daphne had placed him on a strict
vegan diet. She made sure there was nothing else to eat in the house.
Jim took all his meals over at Daphne's or Olivia's place. Ned
complained bitterly about it with his dad but it didn't do any good. Jim
made it very clear that Ned would do whatever Daphne told him to do.

Since they moved Ned had no contact with the outside world except on
Sundays when he and his dad did something. His only contact was through
his computer with his old friends. He spent every night after cleaning
up the kitchen, e-mailing or surfing the net. Like any teenager, he
spent a lot of time looking at porn sites. He was sexually frustrated as
he spent so much time alone and with all his chores unable to get out and
meet any girls. As time went on, he spent even more of his private time
looking at porn and finding self relief.

By August he was still in contact with a few of his friends but that
number was dwindling and the e-mails short and terse. There just wasn't
very much he could talk about with them. He wasn't about to tell them he
learned an easier way to iron pleats. He was sitting at the computer in
his pajamas one evening while his dad was with Daphne. His pajama
bottoms around his ankles, his hand pumping vigorously on his rock hard
dick and the beautiful blonde on the screen screaming "I'm coming!" when
Olivia entered unseen into his room.

"What the hell are you doing you pervert!" she screamed making him fall
off the chair. His dick quickly shriveled in fear and embarrassment as
he tried to pull his pajama bottoms up.

As he was scrambling to do that Olivia marched over to him, grabbed him
by the upper arm and easily pulled him over the chair's seat. With his
bare butt exposed, she began spanking him. She didn't stop until it was
cherry red and his wails of protest subsided into flowing tears. She
then grabbed his wrist and pulled him to his feet.

"You're coming with me. I have something that will stop that perversion
of yours in its tracks at the house," she said dragging him, pajama
bottoms around his ankles from the room.

Approaching the front door Ned lost his pajama bottoms and he tried to
pull away from her. With his weight loss he was no match for the large
woman as she dragged him out the door, across the street and into her
house. Once outside Ned stopped struggling as he didn't want anyone else
seeing him. It would be mortifying if anyone saw him naked from the
waist down and an old woman manhandling him like he was just a toddler.
He was taken into her bedroom and pushed into a corner.

"You keep that nose pressed into that corner," she ordered giving his
bottom a hard slap.

Ned was terrified. He had never been spanked before and his poor ass was
throbbing. His tears had slowed down to a trickle but were replaced by a
growing panic. "What is this old woman planning on doing to me? Wasn't
that spanking bad enough? I can't believe she caught me doing that.
Shit, I've never been so humiliated. Scared the crap out of me when she
barged in like that," he thought.

"Alright pervert get over here," Olivia barked.

She was sitting on the bed with an evil grin on her face. "This was my
husband's years ago. Almost threw it away when he died but glad I
didn't. Spread those legs and keep your hands at your sides," she said
as he stood before her.

Ned's eyes got as big as saucers when she reached out and grabbed his
penis. Seeing what she had in her hand, he wanted to run but she had a
firm hold on his most private parts. He watched on in horror as she slid
the pink tube over his penis, pressed his balls back up inside his groin
before covering it with a pink shield. With the device in place she
brought the thin straps connected to the tube and shield to the middle of
his back. He heard several clicking sounds as the straps were drawn
tight against his skin. Standing up, she took him by his shoulders and
marched him over to the full length mirror. Gazing into the mirror, Ned
saw that his penis was pulled down between his legs. He reached down and
tried to get it off but it didn't budge.

"That will cure you of your filthy habit. I had my late husband in that
for thirty years and he could never get it off try as he might. You can
use the bathroom with that on but you are going to have to sit to pee.
The only way that's coming off is if I take it off," she said with a
giggle.

"Yo....you can....can't do this to me! I'll tell my dad! He'll....he'll...."
Ned began to protest.

"He'll do nothing of the sort pervert! He's been in one just like it for
over a month now," she snarled.

"You....you're lying. My....my dad would never let...let anyone do that to
him," he stammered in defiance.

"Fine by me pervert, let's go ask him right now," she replied grinning.

"Wha...what? I can't go out looking like this. I'm practically naked," he
gasped.

"I can fix that," she said walking over to her dresser and pulling out a
pair of white granny panties. They were probably big enough to fit three
of Ned but she pulled them up his legs anyway.

"You just hold on to them until we get over to Daphne's," she said
grabbing his wrist.

Ned was beet red by the time they arrived at Daphne's house. It was bad
enough having to walk out in the open clutching the panties but having
his father seeing him like this would be devastating. All thoughts of
his predicament were forgotten as soon as they entered the house.
Standing in the kitchen was his father. Daphne was sitting at the table
sipping a glass of wine. Ned stood frozen, the granny panties sliding
down to the floor as he stared in disbelief. He probably would have
slunk to the floor if Olivia wasn't holding his hand.

His father was dressed in a black cotton with white collar and cuffs knee
length maid's dress. His legs covered in opaque black support hose and
black three inch pumps were on his feet. His hair was in a bun with a
white lace ruffled maid's cap with long black streamers fastened to it.
Pink rubber gloves were on his hands and the plate he had been washing
dropped, as if in slow motion, to shatter on the floor.

As if from afar Ned heard Olivia say, "I caught this pervert wanking off
to some bimbo on his computer. Took care of him just like we did his
father but he didn't believe me so I brought him over to see for
himself."

"James, show your son what we do to perverts around here then clean up
that mess you just made," Daphne demanded. Slowly his father raised his
skirt and petticoats to reveal black satin panties. Blushing fiercely,
he pulled the panties down to reveal his imprisoned groin. Putting
everything back in place, he curtsied, said "Yes Mistress," and began
cleaning up the glass shards.

Ned regained his focus when Daphne grabbed his other hand and was being
marched into the guest room. "Wh...What have you done to my dad? Wha...what
are you gonna do with me?" he croaked.

"We didn't do anything that your father didn't want. We just encouraged
and brought out his true calling. As for you, you'll have to wait and
see. Don't want to spoil the surprise now do we?" Daphne replied as he
was shoved into the room.

Ned looked around wondering why they had brought him here. His curiosity
was answered when Daphne said, "You will be staying here until your
father has a chance to make some changes at your house. Now to see if we
can find something more appropriate for you to wear."

"I don't want to stay in this sissy room. I want to go home to my own
room," his protest came out more like a whine. While he wasn't given
nearly as much of the psychotropic d**gs his ability to disobey was weak.
His actions were more like a petulant *********** than anything else. In
the recesses of his mind he was fully aware of what was happening but,
try as he might, couldn't fight what was being done. He could only look
on as if a bystander in horror at the changes he was undergoing. The
best thing Ned could do was glare at the two women that controlled his
life. With Olivia he could be a little more belligerent as she wasn't
the one implanting suggestions into his mind.

"Hold out your arms Ned," she said as she slipped the nylon straps of a
yellow with white lace frilled training bra up his arms. When the bra
was secured, she handed him the matching high leg panties. He turned
scarlet when she patted his panty covered groin.

"Perfect, from your reaction I can tell you are fully aware of what we
are doing but helpless to stop any of it. Let me find a nice nightie for
you then we'll put you to bed," she said.

The yellow nightie was a double layered nylon and chiffon with a square
cut neckline frilled with white lace and bright satin ribbon at the
center. The short sleeves were large puffs with lace fringe secured with
yellow satin ribbons. Dressed for the night, she had him sit at the
vanity and perform his night time beauty regiment. She smiled brightly
as he easily rolled his hair and set it for the night.

"Tomorrow Olivia will give you a nice haircut Ned. Won't that be a nice
treat," Daphne said as she tucked him in.

The next morning Ned woke up disorientated and confused until he
remembered what happened. He groaned and a tear leaked out of one eye as
he sat up in bed. He wanted to be violent. He wanted to rage and throw
things but couldn't summon up the will necessary to do it. Daphne came
in soon after, had him step into a pair of pink fuzzy bunny slippers and
follow her into the kitchen. He was afraid to let his father see him
like he was dressed but he wasn't anywhere around.

After breakfast, she took him into the bathroom and showed him how to
prepare a bubble bath using lots of scented oils and bath beads. As the
bath was filling he coated his body in the depilatory cream. With his
body moisturized, powdered with scented talc Daphne showed him how to
wrap a towel around his chest. Back in the room, he was given a fresh
matched set of lingerie. He struggled a bit with the emerald green
training bra but with a little help, adjusted the straps and had it
hooked. The panties were a full brief cut with white floral lace inserts
at the hips. She handed him a container of baby powder and instructed
him to sprinkle some into the high waist panty girdle before putting it
on. The girdle was a muted emerald green and bright green satin front
panel with an elaborate floral pattern stitched in silver thread. The
girdle reached above his navel and pulled his already thin waist in
another two inches. The back seam dug into his bottom, separating and
enhancing his cheeks. Dressed in his lingerie, she gave him a pair of
pale green nylons and showed him how to knead them up his legs and attach
the welts to the girdle's garter tabs.

Stepping into a pair of low heeled white pointed toed pumps he went to
the vanity. With the rollers removed his hair fell in gentle waves past
his shoulders. Daphne put black mascara on his lashes and bubble gum
pink lipstick on his lips finishing up with a spray of sweet floral
perfume. Handing him a sheer pale green nylon wrap led him back into the
kitchen where Olivia was waiting. Throughout the entire process Ned's
mind was screaming "No! I don't want this" but couldn't physically
resist.

An hour later he was taken back to get dressed for the day. His hair had
been bleached to a brassy golden blonde hue then cut into a tight prickly
flat top. "That's right Ned. We all know that you don't want to be a
girl. You have said so often enough so we decided that what you really
want to be is one big prissy sissy. With that hair cut, flat chest and
the girl's outdated clothing nobody will recognize you as anything but a
big sissy.

Ooo

Staying with Daphne had been extremely traumatic for Ned. He spent his
days carrying a purse and learning how to move with an exaggerated
mincing wiggle, elbows tucked in, wrists limp and speaking in an
artificially high lisp. Other than plucking his brows into feminine
arches his face wasn't dramatically changed. During the day he wore skin
tight short-shorts with frilly feminine blouses covering his training
bra, panties and girdle. In the evenings he wore tight leggings or pants
like Capri's and peddle pushers with chiffon or satin blouses. When he
wasn't practicing, he had to read romance novels and gay magazines. The
gay magazines were a stumbling block for him but a dose of her d**g and
telling him how much he just loved looking at the pictures and reading
the articles solved that problem.

Ned hadn't seen his father for three weeks and when he did was shocked.
Jim's hair was in a tight bun at the back of the head, completely gray
and wearing a pair of Olivia's thick horn rimmed glasses. It was obvious
that he was having a hard time seeing anything. His face was heavily
powdered with bright pink blush on his cheeks, vivid red lipstick and
heavy blue eye shadow. His eyebrows had been plucked out and black
pencil used to draw them back in high thin arches. He had gained at
another ten pounds and seemed to have aged twenty years. He was wearing
a bright yellow cap sleeved cotton blouse that hung untucked over his
expanded belly. The top of the blouse stuck out at the top with what
appeared to be sagging DD breasts. The hem of a white girdle could be
seen above the belt line of the pair of polyester lime green stretch
pants. The pants hugged his lower torso like a glove and he was wearing
a pair of black flats. Olivia was standing nearby giving him directions
as he clumsily moved around. A strong aroma of liniment and baby powder
filled the room.

"OMG! What have you done to my father?" Ned blurted out stunned.

"Ned come on over and meet your new momma Bertha Lou. Thought it'd be
more fitting to have your father looking like someone who would have such
a prissy sissy for a son. You'll have to give her a hand until she gets
use to wearing her glasses. Figure another couple of weeks before her
eyes completely adjust," Olivia said with a laugh.

















Mother-in-Law

By Cheryl Lynn

Paul Wimple's life was going nowhere. He just graduated from collage with a
degree in history. He was slight of build, had brown eyes and brown hair
hanging slightly past his collar. He wasn't smart enough to be a nerd and
with his scrawny looks seldom ever had a date in all of his twenty-three
years of life. Raised by a doting mother, he was a momma's boy. His
mother's influence was probably the cause for him dating then marrying Ethel
Primrose, the senior librarian at his collage.

They had met when he requested her help in finding a particular research
book. She was his height of five foot eight, was a very plump woman and
fifteen years his senior. She was very much like his mother in many respects
with her full figure and maturity. She dressed like his mother, usually a
skirt and semi-transparent frilly blouse with sensible heels. Ethel smelled
like his mother, a hint of baby powder with an overlapping aroma of lilacs.

Another thing that attracted him to Ethel was her foundation garments. Paul
had a fascination with his mother's heavy utilitarian bras and girdles. He
could see through her blouses that Ethel wore the very same type of bras and
from the smell of baby powder, knew she was wearing a girdle. He was too
timid to actually ask her out but very attracted to her. He longed to
snuggle his head between her large DD breasts as he use to do with his
mother and let all his cares evaporate.

As he had no social life, he spent much of his time in the library. At
first it was just a casual wave of greeting but as time went on Ethel began
to feel a bit sorry for him so began talking with him. It was, at first,
simple conversation asking how his day was going but over time she got him
to open up about his life. She felt sorry for him the more she learned
about Paul and started giving him hugs and brief kisses to the cheek. Over
his two years of going to the library, their relationship grew. Then at the
beginning of the Thanksgiving holidays when she found out he had no where to
go, they became much closer. His mother had passed away the previous year
when he was a sophomore, so she invited him to dinner with her mother.

Paul had a delightful time over Thanksgiving dinner with Ethel and her
sixty-************* mother. The home cooked food brought back many fond
memories of his mother. The fact that Ethel hovered over him, just like his
own mother had, made this meal the most enjoyable he had had in over a year.
The only draw back was Ethel's mother, Edna. They were almost carbon copies
of one another but Edna had a mean streak and very bossy. He was preparing
to leave when he received his first kiss from someone not his mother and it
was on the lips too. Ethel had walked him to the door and with his arms
stuck in his coat sleeves, she kissed him. The kiss broke with them both
blushing profusely.

"I'm sorry Paul, I don't know what came over me," she apologized.

"Oh no, Ethel, I....I...tha...that was my first kiss an,,,and it was wonderful,"
he stammered in reply.

"Your very first kiss?" she gasped.

"Ye....yes...well with a real....real girl..errrr...I mean with someone not related
to me," he answered blushing bright red.

From that point on they began dating. The dates were always chaste ending
with a hug and kiss at the front door. A lot of their dates were spent at
her mother's house which they shared. It was a simple wood frame three
bedroom two bath house built in the early fifties on a small wooded lot with
a white picket fence. She would invite him over to dinner and then sit on
the couch watching television. Edna would always be sitting in her rocker
working on some sewing or crocheting nearby. As those dinner dates became
more common, Edna would become more bossy and demanding.

"Paul, don't just sit there. When you first came here you were a guest but
Ethel tells me you're more like family, so get up and help Ethel clean up
the dishes. Here, put on this apron so you don't get your clothing messed,"
she ordered handing him a white organza lace frilled apron. He felt like a
fool wearing that frilly apron but didn't dare challenge her on it.

A couple of weeks later she handed him some other things to wear while
helping Ethel, a white with pink lace edged mop cap and pink rubber gloves.
Again he didn't have the gumption to argue with her. Ethel complained that
his help wasn't needed but Edna's insistence stopped her as well. After
that, Paul would automatically get up, put on his apron, mop cap, and rubber
gloves without complaint after each meal.

"What a puss, Ethel that poor excuse of a man is beneath you. He's young
enough to be your own son for goodness sakes. What you see in him I will
never understand," Edna said one night after he left.

"Momma, I know he's young but I really care for him. Look I'm thirty-eight
years old and I want a baby. You know as well as I do my chances of ever
getting married are slim and none. Paul really cares for me and I don't
care what you think. If he asks me, I'm going to marry him," she replied
breaking out in sobs.

Ooo

So here we are back in the present. Paul is married, living with his
mother-in-law and obtained employment as a junior high history teacher. His
home life was only marred by the presents of Edna. With their marriage, she
had become even more bossy and demanding. Now it was Paul who primarily
cooked all the meals since he got home long before Ethel. He was also the
one who did most of the house work. The first thing he did upon arriving at
the house was take off his jacket and tie replacing them with a frilly apron
and lace edged mop cap. For housework he wore cotton pinafore styled aprons
with lots of ruffles and fancy embroidered bibs. For cooking he wore
organza or chiffon aprons with lace hemming and bright bows tying in
elaborate bows in the back. Even his mop caps became frillier with colorful
floral lace detailing, all the embroidery and lace additions where thanks to
Edna's sewing skills which she used to further humiliate him.

Of all his chores, he didn't mind doing the laundry as it gave him a chance
to hand wash their intimates. He was very careful not to let Edna catch him
when he sniffed his wife's panties or ran his hands over her eighteen hour
bras and open bottomed girdles. He justified what he was doing by telling
himself that he was a young man with needs. In fact, he was getting sex
once a week.

Right after they were married and before he landed his job, he moved into
the Primrose house. Edna made him take the smallest bedroom in the house.
He protested that as man and wife they should share the same room but Edna
put up such a fuss, ranting and raving that he backed down. Unfortunately,
Ethel was brought up like Paul and could never disobey her mother. When
Edna said that once the consummation was finished that having sex once a
month would be all that she would tolerate, Ethel did balk. She wanted a
baby as soon as possible and knew that it would be hard for her at her age
to conceive.

"Mommy, I want a baby and having intercourse only once a month is not going
to do it. I won't stand for it," she argued.

"Ethel, baby, getting married doesn't mean you can become a harlot. I think
once a month is sufficient to perform your wifely responsibilities. However
since you want a baby so bad, I will allow you once a week but that's all.
This is still my house and you both will do what I say or move out," she
retorted.

Paul found it hard to believe that Ethel would do what her mother demanded
but went along with it. "With the both of us working, we'll be able to get
our own place in six or seven months then no more of Edna's shit. I can
sleep with my wife, no more of these fucking aprons and no more Edna," he
thought as he agreed to the demands.

After six months living under Edna's roof and strict rules, they found a
nice house. A small brick three bedroom in a safe but declining
neighborhood that stretched their finances but it was theirs. Both were
relieved to start having regular sex. Paul was happy so didn't argue when
she told him that he would still have to perform the housekeeping and
cooking chores. With their finances stretched to the limit, meals were
mostly potatoes, rice and pasta dishes. The only time they went out to
dinner was their every Sunday lunch at Edna's. As a result, Paul's waist
line and butt were getting bigger and bigger.

One Sunday over lunch Ethel was complaining about having to buy Paul new
pants and how tight their budget was. Edna perked up her ears hearing that
and with a sneer said, "Baby just give the little puss one of your older
girdles. There's a whole bunch of boxes of your stuff in the attic and
closet that he should be able to wear. A girdle should tuck in his tummy
and pull in his ass enough to get more use out of his slacks."

Edna's logic made sense to Ethel and that very evening had Paul trying on
some of her older girdles. Of course Paul vehemently opposed the idea
stating that men didn't were such garments. Edna told him to either wear
the girdles or they could move back in with mother. The threat of having to
move back in with Edna made him reach for the first girdle. It was white
nylon/spandex, open bottom with a high floral elastic waist. Two bright
white satin stripes crossed over the tummy for better control with attached
garter tabs. Of course the girdle wouldn't go over his boxers without
painfully bunching them up. To solve that problem she gave him a pair of
her smallest nylon Bali briefs. They were a translucent white with small
lace inserts at each hip. He complained again, saying that he was a man and
men don't wear panties.

She surprised him when she angrily spat, "Paul with that pathetic little
dick of yours you're not much of a man. You can't perform enough to get me
pregnant. I want a baby and so far you haven't given me one. Now stop your
complaining and put those panties and girdle on. When you manage to get me
with c***d then we can do something about getting you your pants back.
Here, use some of this baby powder to sprinkle inside your girdle, it will
help."

Paul felt like a fool standing before his obviously mad wife in a pair of
panties struggling to pull the girdle over his hips. "I like touching her
things but wearing them? No, I don't like this one bit but she's so mad
right now I'd better listen to her. I can't help it if our stomachs are so
big that it's hard to make the connection. Shit, I wouldn't mind having a
baby either to carry on my name but sometimes it isn't easy," he thought as
the tight girdle snapped around his waist. The crotch of the girdle pulled
painfully at his male bits and he reached in and tucked his penis down
between his legs hoping for a better feel.

"Here put these on. I'll show you how and I don't want to hear any
complaints. Hose are needed to keep the girdle's bottom from riding up,"
she ordered as she rolled one of the stockings into a donut. When he sat to
pull up the hose, he felt a painful pop as his testicles were forced back up
inside.

"Damn!" he yelped.

"Paul you know I can't stand the use of curse words. No more of that and
pay attention. You need to know how to roll up your stockings properly.
I'm not going to be doing it for you and woe unto you if you put a run in
them," she firmly stated. With the girdle and hose on, his old slacks
actually fit a bit loosely around his waist. The girdle pulled his butt in
but separated his ass cheeks making them look rounder.

"See mother was right. That girdle has made your slacks fit much better. I
bet we can get three or four months more wear out of them now. Okay, let's
go through this old box of mine and find you some more girdles and panties
in that size," she stated.

By the time they had gone through the entire box Paul had six girdles, two
in black, one red, one yellow, one baby blue and another pair of white ones.
She also found him a dozen pairs of Bali full brief cut panties in white,
candle glow and black. There were still a number of pieces of lingerie in
the box by the time they were finished. Ethel had him put the box in his
closet in case they would need the larger sizes in the future. He was still
blushing when they went to bed that night. After Ethel's demeaning comments
about his abilities, he tried his best not to ejaculate prematurely like he
usually did.

Paul had a hard time the next day when he left for school. He was wearing a
very tight and uncomfortable black girdle, hose and panties under his dark
slacks. He was so self-conscious about it that instead of walking around in
his class lecturing which made him comfortable and confident he sat behind
his desk. As a result of the distraction and sitting, his usually smooth
lecture was filled with hemming and hawing caused by his nervousness. Over
time this affected his classes' grades plus the stress made him eat even
more. The principal had called him into his office on more than one
occasion to discuss the falling grade point averages.

Walking out of his latest meeting with the principal, Paul fumed silently in
his head, "How can I tell Mr. McClendon that Ethel is making me wear girdles
and panties. I've already heard enough giggles and snide comments about the
weight gain. I don't need to add that to my problems. If only I could get
her to let me buy new clothing I wouldn't be in this fix. Every time I
bring it up, she bitches that I can't get her pregnant and until I do, I can
forget about new pants. Now she's set me up to see a doctor about my
problem. Shit, what makes her think I've got a problem?"

A month later he was called into Mr. McClendon's office. From the way he
was summoned into the office he knew that it was probably more bad news.
Last Friday the doctor told him his wife's inability to conceive was due to
his low sperm count. He also had a high estrogen level which was
contributing to his inability to conceive.

"Paul while the hormone level isn't off the charts, it's something to be
concerned about. Are you taking any kind of supplements or hormones that
you haven't told me about? No, well, certain body washes, teas and food
contain high levels of organic estrogen that could be affecting your system.
Especially body gels and washes containing green tea tree oils and such have
been shown to cause unusual breast growth in c***dren. Teas and other
organic products, like black cohosh tea, elevate estrogen levels. Those
hormone levels are one of the reasons you're developing a nice set of man
boobs. I am reluctant to give you testosterone injections to offset this at
the moment. The side effects can be dangerous, so watch what you eat and,
if nothing else, drop some weight and exercise. You're over two hundred
pounds and that certainly isn't helping," the doctor had told him.

If he had told the doctor that he was wearing a tight girdle every day that
forced his testicles up back inside and how hot they were, things might have
gone differently for him. He had worn a pair of grey fleece sweat pants and
school jersey to that appointment. Paul had borrowed Edith's loose fitting
clothing for that office visit. He went commando guessing he would have to
drop his underwear anyway.

When he told her what the doctor said she hit the ceiling and kicked him out
of their bedroom for two days. "I got married to have a baby. The least
you could do is give me one and now....and now the doctor says you can't do
it. What am I supposed to do now? Huh? If I have to, I'll find a real man
or check into a fertility clinic and get one implanted you worthless piece
of shit. Mother was right! You're a worthless little man. Ha! If she
only knew how damn little, now get out of my room. I don't want to be
around you," she screamed crying her eyes out.

He left the principal's office even more dejected and morose. His teaching
contract would not be renewed at the end of the semester. Additionally he
was told that his bad evaluations would probably make it very difficult for
him to get another teaching position.

"I'm very sorry Paul but maybe you can try in another state. I hear that
the State Department is looking for teachers to send overseas. Maybe you
should try there," Mr. McClendon had said.

Paul knew what he meant by that State Department reference. It meant that
no school district would consider hiring him. "I don't have any other
career. All I ever wanted to do was teach history. I can't go anywhere now
that I'm married and Ethel has over twenty years working at the college.
She'd never consent to move so close to retirement. I'm doomed. If she was
mad at the doctor's report, I don't know how she's going react when I give
her this news," he thought dejectedly.

That had taken place more than two months ago and Paul was still paying the
price. Ethel was so mad he had to move into the guest room for a month
before she let him back into their bed. Even then, their relationship was
cool. Now that the school term was coming to an end, their problems
escalated. Without a job they could no longer afford to pay the mortgage.
He had sent out hundred's of resumes during that time and didn't even get a
response from the State Department. With no other choice they had to put
the house up for sale. The only good thing to happen was that the house
sold quickly and didn't lose that much money.

In the meantime, the stress was making Paul eat more and sleep less. He
gained another thirty pounds with most of that weight going to his chest and
butt. His changing body only intensified his stress and embarrassment which
made him eat even more. He was now wearing the same size girdle as his wife
and his man boobs had gotten so big that it was becoming almost impossible
to hide them. Other than having smaller breasts than his wife's DD's, he
was almost her same size and build.

During the final days of his teaching career, he had to resort to wearing
his wife's slacks and some of her plainer looking blouses. It was her
suggestion to bind his breasts. That was uncomfortable but it worked. His
wife was a stickler for pinching pennies and considering their situation,
refused to give him money for new clothing or a hair cut.

"Paul, you've lost your job and my paycheck will not cover the mortgage much
less getting you new clothing. As it is we will have to move back in with
mother. We need every penny considering your future prospects of finding
work. I have some perfectly good clothing that's not overly feminine that
you can wear until our finances stabilize. So until then, you will wear
what I give you or...or you can leave. I'm at my wits end and don't know how
much more I can put up with. While I don't believe in divorce, I....I think
if you leave....I won't stop you," she tearfully said.

"What? I can't leave you! Where would I go? How would I live?" he replied
shocked.

His reply was not the one his wife expected. She expected him to declare
his undying love not the selfish response he had given. "Why you ingrate,
here I'm doing my best to keep everything together and all you can think
about is yourself. Mother was absolutely right. I most certainly married
beneath myself. You miserable little worm, you can't even give me the c***d
I so desperately want or satisfy my physical needs. I've put up with your
shit for a year and all you can think of is yourself. Well mister, I'm
taking mother's advice. No, I'm not going to divorce you like she wants but
you are going to pay for your insensitivity," she thought fuming. She
couldn't remember the last time she had been so mad.

Ooo

On June 1st they moved back into Edna's house. Again, he was given the
small guest room for his own, Edna's house, Edna's rules. With the current
state of his marital relations, he didn't object. He tried to argue when he
was handed his apron, mop cap and rubber gloves but to no avail. With
school over, he was stuck in the house with Edna. She was a firm believer
that idle hands were the devil's workshop. So Paul found himself doing all
the household chores. From sunup until sundown, he performed his chores
under the harsh direction of his mother-in-law.

That next morning as Edna watched Paul doing the morning dishes, she
examined him closely. "What a poor excuse of a man. I told my baby not to
marry him and that no good would come of it. Well now she knows that I was
right. Too damn bad she won't divorce him. Said she'd only do that if he
left her. Well too damn bad. I'll make things so hard for him here that he
will leave. Just look at him, hair down well below his collar and those
boobs of his are crying out for a bra. If they knew I put my estrogen pills
in his food every Sunday, my Ethel would be really mad but I'll be damned if
she gets pregnant by him. Those pink slacks of Ethel's almost make him look
like a girl from the back. That's it! Let's see how long it takes that
little prick to leave once I get started on him. If this doesn't work, then
Ethel will surely leave him," she devilishly thought as he finished wiping
down the counter tops.

"Paul you come with me. I'm sick of watching those man boobs of yours
swaying every which way. I won't have it. It's indecent!" she snapped.

"Wha....what do you mean Momma?" he replied shocked. He was painfully aware
of his man boobs. It seemed they were always interfering with his upper
body movements and if he bumped into something, they hurt like hell.

"You heard me, come along and I'll get something to fix your problem," she
demanded.

He meekly followed her into her bedroom where she told him to strip to the
waist. Paul blushed profusely but seeing the look on her determined face
did as ordered. With his shirt off, she quickly placed a cloth measuring
tape around his chest taking measurements. He was utterly confused as she
left the room. When she returned his face went from crimson to ashen white.
Dangling from her hand was a dozen bras.

"Here these are your size. Now put this one on and let me see how it fits.
Nothing worse than an ill fitting bra," she stated handing him a black
Playtex cross your heart bra.

"Momma, you can't be serious?" he said in shock. Since his marriage, she
demanded that he call her momma.

"You either put this on or pack up and leave. I don't really care which you
chose but chose you will," she angrily replied.

Forty-five minutes later a very humbled Paul was back mopping the kitchen
floor wearing his new "B" cup bra. The black bra was a match for the girdle
he was wearing as you could faintly see it through the pink slacks. He had
spent over thirty minutes just learning how to fasten the four hook and eye
closure and adjusting the shoulder straps. Due to his increased weight, he
had to hook it in front then pull it into proper position behind his back.
He had never been as embarrassed as when he had to bend over and tuck his
man boobs into the cups of the bra. As he stood before the mirror replacing
his white cotton blouse, he could easily see the bra's outline as his flesh
overlapped the band at his sides. The blouse fit much better now that the
bra supported his boobs.

Ethel had a good laugh when she came home and told him that it was an
improvement before heading to her room to change. Later he tried to argue
with her about what her mother had made him do. She was a bit sympathetic
but in the end agreed with her mother's decision.

"Paul, you know the rules. If you don't like them leave," she replied
getting tired of his whining. "If you can't stand up to mother then why
should I have to do it for you? Show some balls for a change," she thought.

Edna was upset that Paul had actually gone along with her demand that he
wear a bra. "That snit, I thought for sure when I handed him that bra he
would have had the courage to tell me to go to hell and leave but he didn't.
If he had done that he would have gotten some respect. Well, if that didn't
get him to pack up then maybe tomorrow he'll change his mind," she thought.

The next morning after Ethel left for work, Edna was again inspecting her
worthless son-in-law. He was wearing a pair of Ethel's old white stretch
polyester pants with flare cuffs, the imprint of a white girdle obvious
along with that of his white bra under a pale pink with floral overlay
blouse. He was also wearing a pink organza ruffled apron, white mop cap
with pink lace trim and pink rubber gloves waxing the dining room table.

"Paul follow me, I'm tired of looking at that unruly mop of hair. It needs
the split ends trimmed," she stated.

Meekly he followed her into the kitchen where she had him sit at the table.
"Wait here I need to get a few things before I start, and take off that
cap," she ordered.

For his part Paul wasn't sure how he felt about Edna working on his hair. It
was overly long and been bothering him. It was always a tangled mess and
badly in need of a cut. He would have preferred going to a barber but
couldn't afford it. "I don't know what kind of barber she is but if I can
get this mop off my ears and neck I'll be happy," he thought.

Any thoughts of happiness disappeared as soon as she came back. She placed
a large pink plastic tray down on the table. Tied to the handle of the tray
were several brightly colored nylon scarves. It contained a blow dryer,
wide assortment of bristle rollers, pink plastic pins, hairnets in various
colors, various combs, brushes, scissors and electric shears. Along side
the tray was a bottle of shampoo labeled "Green Tea and Lavender," a bottle
of lavender scented conditioner, jar of pink setting gel and a round
magnifying mirror. Before he could utter any objections, she tied a
translucent baby blue plastic cape around his neck and put the mirror in
front of him so he could see everything she was doing. All he could do was
look nervously from one item to another hoping that most of what he saw
wasn't for him.

Edna didn't spend a lot of time cutting away the split ends taking off very
little of the length. When he realized she was using the shears to remove
his sideburns, it was too late to argue. With his hair cut, she marched him
over to the sink and began a thorough shampooing and conditioning of his
hair. She washed and conditioned it three time all the while telling him
that he should be ashamed for letting it get to be such a disheveled mess.
She blotted his hair dry then made him sit back down at the table. Grabbing
a big gob of the setting gel she began messaging it into his hair and scalp.
Again, he tried to object but it was really too late to stop her.

"Momma what are you doing? I don't...." he started to complain but didn't let
him finish. She told him to let her do what she was doing or he could pack
up and leave.

Having the gel put into his hair was one thing. However when she combed out
a section of hair, telling him to give her one of the bristle rollers and
pink pins, he gasped in shock not quite believing his ears. A hard tap to
the top of his skull with the comb left him gasping like a guppy and no
words left his mouth. Edna made sure to roll the bristles real tight and
didn't give an after thought as to how hard she shoved the pins to secure
them in place. Paul groaned and moaned but sat compliant as she filled his
head with the rollers.

The pins had hurt and the bristles of the rollers were digging painfully
into his scalp but the hot air from the blow dryer was worse. He wanted to
get up and slap his mother-in-law silly for embarrassing him like this but
the fear of being kicked out and the fact that she probably could kick his
ass stopped him.

"Why is she doing this to me? It's bad enough she has me wearing a bra and
doing all the work around here but this....this is going too far. If I had
anywhere to go or even some money I'd be out of here in a heart beat but I
don't. I'm too ashamed to run anywhere for help looking and dressing like
this. All I have to wear are Ethel's old clothes," he lamented.

With his hair dry, she carefully placed a pink hairnet over the rollers and
tied it at the back of the head. Next, she selected a pink and white
checkered shiny rayon scarf and tied it over the net in a cute bow just
under his chin.

"Your hair was such a mess I want you to leave that just the way it is until
tomorrow morning. I'll comb it out for you then," she said removing the
cape.

"Momma, no, please, I can't let Ethel see me looking like this," he said
tears forming at the corners of his eyes.

"This is my house and my rules. You either do exactly as I tell you or you
can leave. The choice is yours. I'm warning you, if you decide to stay
then I don't want to hear a single solitary complaint, understand? Since
you argued with me, you can keep those rollers in your hair tomorrow as
well. Now get back to your chores, we've wasted enough time already," she
snapped.

When Ethel came home she had a good laugh at her husband's expense. It was
the first time in ages that she had had such a good laugh and she surprised
herself by how much she enjoyed it. "OMG! First she has him wearing a bra
and now today, this. I can't believe what a wimpy husband I married much
less wanting a c***d by him. I really should have listened to mother. Oh
well, I have an appointment with the fertility clinic Saturday. Guess I
better call and tell them that I'm opting for artificial insemination. I
married him for better or worse and I think I like the worse part better.
It's so much more entertaining," she thought as she went to change.

Paul was hoping for support and help when his wife arrived but all he saw
was scorn in her eyes. Dejected and forlorn he spent a miserable night
trying to sleep with those damn rollers in his hair. "Why did I agree to
let her have total control over our finances when we married? She was so
nice back then and knew more about it than I did. Even if I divorced her I
wouldn't get a dime because of that prenuptial. Now look at me, no money,
at least none she will give me and I'm being treated like a...a sissy," he
moaned into his pillow then turned over on his back. His breasts even
encased in a bra were too painful to lie on. Lying on his back didn't help
either as the bristles and pins dug into his scalp. It was a very restless
and distressful night.

That next morning when he was doing the hand washing, Edna saw him catch a
pair of panties on a nail. "Heavens no, that just won't do," she screamed
at him. Soon thereafter his nails had been filed into neat ovals, buffed
and painted a lustrous lilac.

By afternoon his scalp was itching and irritated so much that he begged her
to remove them telling her he would do anything. By the time his wife came
home, he was wearing a pair of skin tight lilac Capri's, pink chiffon
translucent blouse with billowing full sleeves and lacy cravat and a pair of
black ballerina flats. His black bra was easily seen through the blouse and
the outline of his girdle through the pants. His hair was a mass of wavy
curls and smelled heavily of hairspray. It was beyond any doubt the most
mortifying day in his life.

That first month living with his mother-in-law was horrible for Paul. To
make matters worse his wife didn't step in to help and seemed to be enjoying
his plight. Edna for her part was enjoying herself more than ever before.
Turning her daughter's worthless husband into a total pansy was more than
worth the trouble. It was a bother teaching him how to put his hair up in
curlers every night and keeping them in until just before his wife came
home. Teaching him how to do a manicure and pedicure were worth the effort
though. When she made him answer the door for the deliveryman still in his
curlers, dark green nylon head scarf, wearing skin tight florescent green
satin pedal pushers and thin see through white short-sleeved blouse, the
look on Paul's face was priceless. It made all the bother well worth it.

Edna still found it puzzling that any man would put up with what she was
doing to Paul. His acceptance, though reluctant, reaffirmed in her mind
that he must have been a born sissy. Since Ethel would only divorce him if
he left, she only started doing those things to get him to pack up and
leave. After seeing his reaction to the deliveryman, she decided to step it
up. There had to be a point when he would finally rebel and get the hell
out and she was determined to find that point.

She decided that the next step would be to get Paul to wear makeup full
time. Not just any makeup but heavy makeup like she wore, thick foundation
with too much powder, bright green or blue eye shadow, get rid of the brows
and paint them on with black pencil and eyeliner. Heavy mascara, brick red
blusher and rich vibrant red for the lips finished off with a heady sweet
floral perfume to complete his look. She figured the best way to get him to
agree would be to make him go out in public. Over his stiff objections, she
made him go to the grocery, d**g store and dry cleaners. After each of
those adventures, he would come back in tears and blushing fiercely. He
balked and complained bitterly but in the end succumbed to her demands.
Paul had to agree that if he looked more like a woman the less attention he
would draw. With that stepping stone accomplished it didn't take any effort
on her part to get him to remove all his body hair including his pubic hair.
He almost fainted when she demanded to physically inspect his nude body to
make sure he didn't miss any stray hair.

After another month Edna was actually feeling pleased with herself. Paul
had the same body shape as Ethel except for his "B" cup man boobs. Only now
Ethel was much thinner thanks to a strict diet and daily exercise at the
college gym. She had lost more than fifty pounds over the past several
months. All she had to do was lose another ten and she would qualify for
insemination. He could wear all her old clothing with makeup and hair could
pass as her "uglier" daughter.

"This started out as a means to get rid of the wimp but now that I have seen
what I have accomplished, I'm not so sure about losing him. I only lift a
finger to make afternoon tea otherwise he does everything around here. As
far as those boobs go, all I have to do is give him more of my hormones in
his afternoon tea. He's a heck of a lot cheaper than paying for a maid and
I'm certainly too old to do all that back breaking work. Now that I think
about it, I like having him around the house," she mused one afternoon as
the tea pot began whistling.

From the beginning when they moved back into the house, Paul was allowed his
weekly bedroom visits. That is unless Ethel was mad at him about something.
As he became more feminine, plus the fact that his dick was too small to
enter her, left her unsatisfied. For awhile they tried it doggie style but
as his stomach became bigger and bigger that didn't work. By the time they
moved back to her mother's, there wasn't a position they tried that worked.
They were just too fat. One night in utter frustration, she grabbed him by
the ears and forced his head under her stomach and into her snatch.

"Eat me you worthless piece of shit. I'm sick and tired of being frustrated
by you. If you can't give me a baby then you can lick it. Now get busy or
you can forget ever coming back into my bedroom," she had screamed. It was
the first time she had ever talked dirty and the first anyone had done that
to her. She wasn't sure where the language and demand came from but, to her
surprise, thoroughly delighted in it. Later, she wasn't so sure if it was
the lust or the power she felt that gave her such pleasure. In either case
she decided she wanted more.

Paul of course didn't like that change of events and complained but it did
him no good. One night, several weeks later after another one of his
complaints, she tossed him her panties and told him to just whack it off.
She had no idea where that came from either but fascinated, watched as he
did it. She never thought he would really do that but after watching him
rubbing his pathetic penis until he was dark red in the face, covered in
sweat and barely leaving a wet spot on the panties when he finished sent
chills up her spine. Thus, another weekly ritual was born that carried over
to when they moved back to Momma's.

One Sunday while they had tea and Paul was in another room cleaning, Ethel
mentioned that she had given up all hope that Paul would make her pregnant.
When Edna asked her why, she blushing fiercely, told her of their bedroom
sessions.

"Oh my lands, your father never would have done something like that for me.
It sounds gross but you seem to have enjoyed it," Edna said.

"Momma, please, I don't want to know about you and daddy. It feels
fantastic though, I have to admit. I can't believe I didn't make him do
that much sooner. Oh by the way, next Saturday I'm having my artificial
insemination. Momma I'm finally going to have my baby but don't tell him,"
she shyly replied.

Paul sat in front of the bathroom mirror carefully drawing in thin arched
brows. When he first agreed to wear makeup, it was supposed to be for when
he had to go out in public. As he sat at her vanity for his first makeup
lesson, Edna surprised him by shaving off his eyebrows. Without eyebrows he
had to paint them in. If he painted them in, then he had to wear full
makeup or he would draw undue attention if someone should drop by. At least
that was the logic Edna used on him. So now he had to put on a fresh face
every morning, touch it up frequently during the day then spend time
removing it. Since he was wearing makeup, he now had to perform a morning
and evening facial preparation. Edna allowed him to remove it before Ethel
came home but on one occasion, she came home early feeling ill from her
pregnancy and caught him.

When his wife saw him in full makeup, she looked shocked then her expression
quickly turned into resignation. "This certainly isn't the man I fell in
love with. How could I have been so stupid? My need to have a baby just
overwhelmed my brain I guess. Well nothing for it now but admit I made a
horrible mistake. If I had gotten artificially inseminated back before we
got married I wouldn't be in this position now. Married to an unemployable
man who couldn't get me pregnant and turned out to be nothing but a big fat
sissy. I'm pregnant and don't need him. So there is nothing left for me
to do but get a divorce," she thought as she went to her room.

Later at the dinner table she told Paul of her decision to get a divorce.
He sat with a fork half lifted up to his face, stunned. "Ethel...you..you
can't be serious. I'm...I'm your husband. What am I going to do? None of my
old clothes fit. I don't have a job. How will I live? Yo....you
can't..can't leave me like this," he stammered.

"As much as I hate the idea Paul, you have given me no choice. Look what
you let my mother do to you. You couldn't give me the baby I wanted and put
yourself into a position where no one will hire you to teach. I can't even
begin to tell you just how much you have disappointed me. I will see a
lawyer tomorrow and start the paper work," she replied with a single tear
falling from her eye. She was actually very upset at having to file for
divorce and may have changed her mind but Paul's selfish response settled
the issue.

Edna was at first thrilled that her daughter was finally moving in the right
direction. "About time she came to her senses," she thought then realized
that with him gone who would keep the house and cook the meals. Now that
Ethel was pregnant who would have to pick up the additional work load? She
was in no condition to change dirty diapers much less do all the household
chores.

"I have an idea," she almost shouted to the two teary eyed people sitting at
the table.

"What?" Ethel and Paul said almost as one.

"Ethel what's wrong having Paul stay with us, not as your husband but my
housekeeper? He can work in return for his room and board plus I'll give
him some spending money. Of course, if you have any objections or he
refuses to obey my rules, it would be a shame to just kick him out into the
street," she said.

"I...I don't know mother. I don't think I would like being reminded about all
that has happened but agree it would be very difficult for him out there,"
Ethel replied thoughtfully as Paul looked on confused.

"Look baby, I can fix that, trust me and with the baby coming we're going to
need the help. I certainly cannot do all that will be necessary," she said
smiling from ear to ear.

"I didn't take your advice before and look where it got me, so if Paul
agrees, I think I can live with that," Ethel replied.

"Paul you have a choice to make. You can pack your bags and leave or you
can stay on here as my housekeeper. If you decide to stay you will have to
obey all my rules, no matter what, and....and agree to legally change your
name," Edna said turning her attention to him.

"Change my name? Whatever for?" he replied puzzled.

"Ethel doesn't want to be reminded that you were married, so a name change
would help. Hearing Paul every time we addressed you, wouldn't help, don't
you agree?" she answered.

After some more discussion, Paul agreed to stay, change his name and become
the housekeeper. It was the only work he could obtain and the idea of
moving out like he was now was unthinkable. His pay wouldn't be much, only
$300 per month but in time he could save up enough to leave. Ethel still
had misgivings but agreed to try it for awhile.

The first thing Edna did was contact a lawyer to write up an employment
contract and name change documents. When Paul saw what she had done, he
came very close to not signing the documents. What upset him was not the
contract which spelled out all they had agreed to but the name change. She
wanted him to change his name to Emma Joyce Wimple. Edna said she picked
that name because it was so far removed from his real name that it wouldn't
get Ethel upset or bring back bad memories. Since his employment hinged on
changing his name Paul finally signed both documents figuring he could
change it back later. He also signed the irreconcilable divorce papers
which under the State's laws automatically granted the request.

He should have read the one year automatic renewing employment contract more
closely as it had a penalty clause. This clause stated that if he left his
position prior to fulfilling the full year, he had to reimburse Edna for the
time remaining for room and board at the rate of $1250 per month. When he
found out about it, he was told that part of his salary was considered a
rental agreement for the room and board thus the penalty was justified. It
was also money he didn't have nor would have. Paul was stuck having to do
whatever Edna demanded for a full year. With that understanding, Edna went
quickly to work on Emma Joyce.

The first thing on her agenda was to make even more changes to his
appearance. She purchased five uniforms for him. They were simple maid's
"A" line dresses in cotton, three grey, one black and one pink, white pin
stripped with white three quarter length sleeves trimmed in stiff white
folded cuffs and white double breasted collars. To go with the uniforms she
got two pairs of square toed black patent leather three inch stack heeled
shoes. He was already wearing Ethel's old panties, girdles, bras so giving
him her old slips, camisoles wouldn't be any big deal. The only thing extra
she needed would be support hose instead of regular nylons. When he wasn't
working, she figured he could wear Ethel's old dresses, skirts and blouses
which no longer fit her thinner figure.

The next item was to take him to Betty's Cut and Curl salon for a new hair
style. Emma Joyce objected when Edna gave him his uniforms but gave in.
When she told him of his pending appointment, he vehemently refused until
she was almost pushing him out the door telling him he would hear from her
lawyer. The idea of having to pay her a full year's of room and board
changed his mind. Soon his brown hair was dyed a dull black with grey
streaks making him look much older. As punishment for giving her a hard
time, she had his ears pierced and one inch ceramic nails painted a deep red
on his fingers. His hair was pulled back in a sever bun at the back of his
head. The last item on her agenda was to make him take one of her estrogen
replacement pills with each meal telling him they were multivitamins. She
also informed him that he would be wearing full makeup from the time he
arose until he went to bed.

There was another clause in the contract put in at Ethel's insistence. It
basically said that after three months, they would get together and review
how well Emma Joyce had performed. If Ethel said that seeing him still
brought up bad memories, he would be let go without penalty. If she did
that Paul would be shown the door with at best $900 to his name. With the
changes Edna had forced upon him, he could only do that dressed as a woman.
Paul as much as he hated being Emma Joyce and being the housekeeper, had a
strong incentive to do exactly as Edna demanded and that was to become Emma
Joyce both mentally and physically. The only difference between Ethel's and
the penalty clause was that Paul wouldn't owe Edna anything but the results
would be the same. Cast out with no where to go, looking like a fat old
woman and without financial wherewithal. A prospect that was completely
unappealing to him.

To assist him in getting into character Edna spent the first two months of
his employment teaching him how to act like the woman he appeared to be.
She taught him a shuffling, sloped shouldered walk, how to manage his skirts
and hold his arms and hands. She gave him women's magazines to read aloud
using a softer, higher pitched voice. To add to his humiliation and older
appearance, she made he use reading glasses with jewel encrusted frames
which hung from his neck attached to a golden chain. Until his eyes
adjusted to the lenses, he had a difficult time doing his reading
assignments. After several weeks he actually needed the glasses to read.

All the magazines were published for the older mature woman. He learned
more about menopause and women's heath than he wanted to know along with an
older woman's fashion sense. As there would be a baby in the household
soon, he read a lot of baby care and nutritional books. By the end of the
second month of intense training, he naturally spoke in a soft feminine
voice and his body language was that of an older woman.

As he stood before the full length mirror slightly stooped which made him
look an inch shorter with sagging flat torpedo shaped breasts. Over the past
two months he had added a full cup size to his bras. The image reflected
back was of an old woman. Dull black grey streaked hair pulled back into a
tight bun, the heavy makeup, wearing a knee length pink maid's dress with
dark tan support hose clinging loosely to fat legs and the aroma of lilacs
and baby powder filling his nose. He was not even thirty but looked and
acted like he was in his fifties.

As Paul progressed in his studies along with his appearance, Ethel became
less and less bothered at seeing him. Occasionally, she would frown at a
stray memory of what once was but quickly shook it off. When it was time
for the three month review, she told her mother that it was unnecessary.

"Momma, I really don't want us to sit down with...Emma Joyce. It would only
bring up bad memories. All I see is the housekeeper now, so let's keep it
that way," she said.

Edna was delighted with her daughter's decision. "Now I can move along with
my plans for that pansy. Hearing what a good pussy eater he had been sent
thrills up my spine I haven't had in years. Something no one has ever done
for me before and I'm pretty sure that I can finally find out if it is as
good as Ethel said it was," she thought.

That next afternoon, Edna took off all her clothing and pulled on an old
worn pink terry bathrobe and sat on the edge of her bed. "Emma Joyce, get
in here and bring your pedicure set with you," she called. Edna was both
excited and somewhat self-conscious about what she was planning on doing so
kept the robe wrapped tightly around her obese body. When he arrived he was
a bit surprise seeing her only wearing a ratty robe. He wasn't happy when
he looked at his own fat body and the notion that Edna might reveal her much
older wrinkled body to him was disturbing.

He was on his knees cleaning up after polishing her toes when she grabbed
the bun at the back of his head and pulled his face into her crotch. Edna
had wanted this experience to be subtle with him doing it slowly but she was
frightened and decided to force the issue before she chickened out. She
spread her thick thighs, exposing her aged pussy with its thick matting of
grey crinkly hair, forced his face into that bush and clamped her thighs
tightly around his head.

"Okay Emma Joyce, it's time you demonstrated that tongue of yours where you
know it will do me the most good. You do me just like you did for my baby
and I may give you a chance to breathe. Now let me feel it," she demanded.

Paul tried to push away, the smell was awful and her demand made his stomach
churn. Her grip on his head and powerful thighs made his efforts fruitless.
His nose was buried deep into her thick hair, his lips pressing against the
dry flesh between her legs. He couldn't dislodge himself and breathing was
most difficult. When he did manage to take in a breath, the strong smell of
urine and sardines invaded his nose. He quickly realized that he was
trapped and suffocating. With great reluctance, he probed between sagging
folds of flesh. Sticking his tongue in as far as he could and began
wiggling it around like he remembered Ethel wanted. Unlike his ex-wife,
this hole was dry and didn't taste good. It took all his will power with
his eyes squeezed tightly shut just to keep from *****ing. When the tip of
his tongue finally found that special spot he felt something wet wash over
his tongue. At first he thought she was finally getting wet but the acidic
taste told him that she squirted out some urine instead. His stomach
****ted and bile began running up his throat but managed to swallow it back
down. Finally after what seemed like a year, Edna moaned out loudly,
squeezed his head tightly with her thighs and released him from her grip.
He fell onto his back gasping, his lips and tongue rubbed raw and his
stomach cramping painfully.

As he got up to rush to the bathroom to try and get the taste and smells of
her off him, she said, "Oh my lands, Ethel was so right. I've never
experienced anything so mind blowing in my life. Emma Joyce, get used to
it, you're going to be doing this a lot more often."

Lying on her bed getting over the most sexually satisfying event in her life
Edna was thinking, "I can't believe that was so mind blowing. If that was
so good what else have I been missing all my life? All Cedric ever did,
bless his soul, was get on top, satisfy himself then snore like a saw mill.
I'm going to have to do some investigating to see what I've been missing.
Maybe that big priss will be good for something other than performing oral
sex."

Meanwhile, Paul was sick both physically and mentally as he kneeled over the
commode by the experience. "I can't believe she made me do that. It was
disgusting and I have never felt so violated. What's this? Oh shit, it's
that old woman's pubic hairs. I'm going to toss my cookies again,
ugggghhh," he thought.

After that experience Paul dreaded the coming of each new day. Every
afternoon, she called him into her room where he had to repeat his
performance. He had tried to refuse the second time by pretending he didn't
hear her when she called. She was so mad when he didn't come in; she
grabbed a belt and found him sweeping the kitchen floor. It didn't take
that many stinging slashes to get him to follow her back into her room.
That first week it was just a wham-bam, thank you ma'am type of oral sex
with Edna wearing her robe and the belt at her side. There was absolutely
no sexual thrill for Paul. Wearing tight girdles and taking hormones for so
long had effectively castrated him. The only thing he received was a
nauseas feeling and a couple of hours after without having to put up with
any of her shit.

He spent that time sitting on the sofa watching afternoon game shows,
clasping his churning stomach and drinking a small glass of Edna's sherry.
He would have loved to swallow the entire bottle drinking to oblivion but
she would severely punish such action. At least the small glass that he
took removed her taste from his mouth. His daily performances continued
until Ethel took her maternity leave.

With the baby due changes were made in the household. The biggest change
was to Paul's room. It was redecorated into a baby's nursery. A girl's
nursery with soft pink walls decorated with fairy land characters. A
changing table, bassinette, playpen and shelving for all the necessary
supplies were put into the room. With all the new baby furniture there
wasn't room for Paul's bed, so a cot took its place. The crib would be in
Ethel's room until she went back to work then it would be moved into the
room.

The plan to turn Paul's room into a nursery had been Edna's idea. It was
her plan to use that as an excuse to move Emma Joyce into her room. With
only a cot to sleep on, Ethel would see the logic of having Paul move in
with her mother. Not getting her afternoon delight for over a month had
left Edna very frustrated and with Paul moving in would solve that. Paul
told them he would be happy to sleep on the cot and be nearer the baby. He
guessed what Edna was up to and didn't want any part of that but lost the
argument. Two weeks before the baby was born, he moved into her room.

He was standing behind Edna who was sitting on her vanity stool while he
brushed her grey hair. They were both wearing flannel nightgowns with white
ruffled lace trim, his was pink with small floral imprint and she a blue
with small white polka dots. The other big change came with his move. In
addition to being the housekeeper he was now Edna's personal maid. She made
him tend to her in the bath, assist in her dressing and grooming. She also
had him between her legs every night.

Edna had always been a prudish woman until she discovered the joys of oral
sex. She had made some discreet inquiries and now owned a very realistic
eight inch vibrating bright pink dildo. She was still a prude to some
extent and couldn't bring herself to use it but making Emma Joyce do it for
her was acceptable. After Paul had used his tongue and saliva to get her
wet, she had him take the dildo and use it on her until she reached climax.
Paul hated doing that almost as much as he did giving her oral satisfaction.
It was humiliating to just hold a realistic dick that was way bigger than
his had ever been but it was mortifying to have to actually use it. What
little remained of his masculinity was destroyed by that act. It only drove
home the fact that he was a man but completely unable to perform as one.

As he brushed her hair, Paul realized that he would never be able to leave.
He was permanently stuck being the housekeeper/maid no matter how much money
he managed to save. None of the factors that made him sign those documents
would change. He sighed, shook his head in resignation and tried to imagine
what the new baby would bring. A baby wouldn't be judgmental and in time
maybe give him the love that was missing in his miserable life.

The End





































CHASTE PANSY
by Throne

Arnold had been under his wife Randi's thumb right from the start. While
they were dating and then after they wed, she had led him around by the
nose, using the lure of her voluptuous body and the power of her
manipulative mind to control him. There had been some sex but she always
got him overexcited, so that he would ejaculate before he got into her or
immediately after entering. Then she tricked him into making a bet with
her. When she said that women could go longer without penetrative sex
than men, he took the bait. Arnold suggested a wager in which whoever
gave in first and asked for real sex would be the loser. She acted
reluctant but accepted. The stakes were that the winner could dictate
how the other served them in bed. He saw it as an opportunity to finally
take control of their sex life.

But Randi was smart and sly. She began wearing the most seductive
outfits she could find. When he was behind her she would find some
excuse to bend over, showing off her wide ass. If he was in front of her
she would lean forward to display her impressive cleavage. Soon he was
falling apart. All he could think about was getting some relief from his
unmet needs. She would simply smile and say, "Are you asking me for sex,
darling? Do you want to put your dick inside me and feel how soft and
warm and wet I am? Hmmm?" That, as she had calculated, made him even
more horny.

Eventually he tried to negotiate a compromise. She acted disinterested
at first, letting him get so distracted that he wasn't thinking straight.
Then she said, "Well, I'll consider meeting you in the middle if you
agree to try something special." It turned out to be a chastity tube.
He was beyond desperate and said, "Whatever you want. I'll put it on if
that'll get you to reconsider." Once she had the device locked over his
penis he wanted to discuss their situation. She pointed out that she had
only said she would 'consider' some sort of settlement. When he said
that she should remove the tube, she noted that they hadn't set a time
limit on making him wear it.

The yearning husband cracked after two weeks in the device. His wife
decided that he could begin pleasing her in bed by using his mouth on her
pussy. Arnold had never done that before, hadn't wanted to. But she
reminded him that a bet was a bet and he had to pay for losing. With her
instructing him he was soon satisfying her several times a week, while
his own desires were still unfulfilled. He finally got onto his knees,
hands clutched in front of him, and begged for release from the tube.
She told him that she would be happy to do that, but only if he agreed to
further terms. With tears forming in his supplicating eyes, he asked
what else he had to do for her. Randi smiled and told him that she
wanted to play dress-up with him. Feeling defeated, and imagining that
she just wanted to put him into funny boxer shorts or maybe a butler's
vest and bow tie, he promised to wear whatever she said.

To his shocked surprise, she produced several pairs of panties and told
him to pick which one he wanted to put on. With no other way to go, he
reluctantly chose the purple ones, which seemed slightly less feminine
than the yellow or pink. Once he had them on and his wife had enjoyed a
hearty laugh at his expense, he requested that she finally free his
penis. She stuck out her lower lip and said, "Awww, do I have to? I
mean, the bet is still in effect. And I didn't say WHEN I would pop your
cage. So how about if you do something nice for my girl parts with your
mouth. After that I might... maybe... be ready to set your little dick
free. He sighed heavily and told her, "Yes, dear." Before they got into
bed she took a camisole top with spaghetti straps from the top of her
dresser and held it out to him, daring Arnold with her expression to
refuse it. His shoulders sagged and he lowered his eyes, which made him
look even more defeated. She said, "Go on, Arnie. Put on your pretty
new cami. Let's see how that sexy red looks with those colorful
panties."

He slipped it over his head and let it fall into place. She made him
hold its hem between his thumbs and forefingers, and even take a cute
curtsey. Next he had to do a slow-motion twirl. At last she lay back on
the bed, atop the covers. She was wearing a sleeveless top and short
skirt. Her husband had to get onto the foot of the bed, reach under that
tiny skirt, and work her panties down over her full thighs. She smiled
at him, at how girlish he appeared, and at how deeply he had fallen under
her power. She suggested, "Instead of lifting my skirt, why don't you
slip your head under it. I think that would look cute, don't you? With
your head under there, kind of bobbing up and down as you eat my pussy?"
In a muted voice he said, "Yes, Randi." She told him, "Then get to it,
Arnie. Or should I call you... Annie?" She chuckled. He blushed.

The shamed man wriggled forward on his belly and gingerly raised the
front of her skirt, getting his head under it and letting it drop. He
still hadn't developed a taste for pussy (so to speak) but because it was
his main form of sexual contact, he did respond to it, becoming wildly
aroused. Of course, he couldn't get an erection inside that little tube,
so the pleasure of being aroused was tempered by the discomfort of having
his dick trapped and squeezed that way. He lapped her dutifully while
she shifted her hips from side to side, kneaded her heavy breasts, and
moaned, contentedly at first and then with mounting pleasure. She made
him slow down, speed up, and than slack off again, prolonging her fun to
its limits. At last she soared up to a loud wet orgasm, after which he
had to gently lick her through an unhurried descent. She lay there, her
breathing returning eventually to normal, and then suggested, "Why don't
you look in the bottom of my closet, Annie? There's something there to
put on your little feet."

Unhappily he rose and opened the closet door. On the floor inside were a
pair of slippers covered in white faux fur, with open toes and two inch
heels. He was so humbled by then that she didn't even have to order him
to put them on. He simply did it. Randi said, "Walk around a bit. Get
used to them. Let's see how they shape your legs. Oh, so pretty. Be
sure to use feminine body language when you're wearing nice things like
those. And you'll have to start shaving your legs. And your crotch.
And underarms. And chest. In other words, everywhere. I know you have
hardly any body hair to begin with but, if we're going to play dress-up -
- and we are -- I want you looking the part. Right?" He muttered, "Yes,
darling." She sounded displeased when she said, "That's not the attitude
I want to hear. You need to appreciate all the effort I'm putting into
the new you. Now let's hear it again... but happier." His male ego
shriveled up inside as he put on a cheerful face, clapped his hands
lightly, and said, "Thank you, Randi. I'm glad you're doing so much to
help me with my... new look." "Much better," she congratulated. "Don't
you dare go back to being a Dour Dora. Or a Sour Suzie."

"Now what else can I do for you? What do YOU think?" she mused, putting
the tip of one finger under her chin. He thought desperately, trying to
figure out what she wanted to hear. Arnold just wanted to stay on her
good side and get this over with. He would be happy when he could get
out of those awful feminine things he was wearing. Randi suddenly
brightened and said, "I know. We can't play dress-up without putting
some yummy make-up on you. Not too much. I don't want you to be able to
pass for a girl. I prefer you being my pansy husband, who never pesters
me for sex but is always ready to snack on my pussy. And who speaks in a
soft voice. And uses his best ladylike body language. Right?" Stricken
by the idea of all that, he nevertheless responded, "Yes, dearest. I
want whatever you want." What he really wanted was to be let out of that
tube, but this appeared to be the path he had to follow to gain release.
She turned to her dresser top fussed with the selection of cosmetics
gathered at one end of it.

After a moment she settled on clear lip gloss with just a hint of pink in
it, tweezers to thin his eyebrows, and a pale blue eye shadow for his
upper lids. Randi made him take a few tentative steps in those slippers
and sit on her scroll-backed chair while she worked quickly and
efficiently to transform her husband into her... what? Gal pal? Lesbian
love slave? Sissy serving girl? Probably a combination of the three.
It was wonderful how well he had responded to all her manipulations and,
especially, to that chastity toy. Nothing is better for bending a man to
a woman's will than locking up his masculine pride and joy, even if it's
rather small like Arnold's. When she was done she made him turn his head
and examine himself in the mirror. He gasped at the sight of himself
looking both familiar and different. His eyebrows were subtly reshaped,
his lips reflected the light, and his eyes had a seductive bedroom look.
It was so unmanly, especially with that cami top on. He pouted until she
quickly reminded him to maintain his happy face.

Arnold forced another smile, glanced at her, and said, "Thank you, Randi.
I... like this so much. It's... a good look for me." She said, "Well,
if you like it so much, let's just keep you that way. And maybe we
should postpone letting you out of that chastity. I mean, wouldn't it be
silly, for you to have such a lovely look and then all of a sudden your
silly little dick pops up? No, this is better. I'll just keep you
locked up a while longer." He opened his mouth to say something but just
then her fingers went to the front of his camisole and teased his nipples
through it, making him pant and, at the same time, forget about getting
out of that tube. The stimulation made his dick strain against the
inside of the chastity, but it was futile. His sexual temperature kept
rising, his small balls drew up tight, but all to no avail. She
continued her fingering until he was dizzy with frustrated need. Only
then did she take his hand and say, "Ups-a-daisy. Let's get back to
learning to walk in those charming slippers." He got to his feet and
took several experimental steps. Soon he was able to move without the
threat of falling, though he had to take small cautious steps. She
advised him to maintain that gait, placing one foot in front of the
other. Her tone suggested that she didn't expect any disagreement.

Just like that she had him looking, moving and speaking like a proper
pansy. He hated it but what could he do? The way she had eroded his
confidence, outsmarted him, and gotten him to accept chastity -- those
all worked against him. For the next week, any time he wasn't at work,
she continued his training. With all the hair below his shaped eyebrows
gone, his soft body all pink and smooth, he had to mince about, arms
loose at his sides, hips displaying a slight swish, chin up and glossy
lips the tiniest bit puckered. Randi loved every second of it. With the
tube on, he was constantly horny from what she was putting him through.
And he was frequently serving her with his now-expert and willing mouth,
his balls aching as he gave her one climax after another. At last he
dared to remind her that she had said she would free him from chastity.
She was ready for that. Randi removed it, made him sit on a hard wooden
chair while wearing a cami top and open-crotch panties, along with
elastic-top stockings and a new pair of heeled slippers.

His hands went hesitantly toward is small but hard penis. Sounding like
a correcting Aunt, she wagged her finger and told him, "No, no, Annie. I
said I would take it off. What I didn't say was that you could play with
your funny little dicky." Before he could recover from that news, she
moved closer and straddled his thighs. Randi stood there, peering down
at him with total confidence. She was wearing a snug, long-sleeved top
and skin-tight slacks. The contrast between their clothing, how well
covered she was, and how exposed she had left him, made him feel
especially meek. His wife lowered herself until she was sitting on his
thighs, her impressive bust touching his thinly covered chest, her wide
bottom pressing down warmly against his bare upper legs. He was inflamed
with fresh passion. Up came her hands and her nimble fingers went to
work on his nipples, toying with them through the thin material of that
top. He moaned with suppressed yearning and involuntarily thrush his
narrow chest forward, wanting more even though it was elevating his
frustration to maddening levels. In no hurry, she casually teased him,
rolling her buttocks from side to side, purring seductively, and putting
her lips an inch from his to deliver several air kisses.

From the split front of his panties, Arnold's unimpressive dick
protruded. Randi slid forward, using her soft mound to press against it.
She whispered into his ear, "Does that feel nice, Annie? Do you want me
to keep doing it?" He caught his breath and said, "It feels wonderful.
But you have to let me finish. Please." "I do? Was that part of our
agreement?" "Well... no, but I thought..." "You thought being out of
your prick prison meant that you would get to finish? I don't know why
you would imagine such a thing. Foolish girl. What it really means is
that I'm going to tease you mercilessly, until your balls are like a
couple of overripe g****s, and they hurt all the time. And then do you
know what I'm going to do, little pansy?" He managed to say, sounding
shaky and unsure, "No." She explained, "And then I'm going to tease you
even more. On and on and on. Until you're ready to cry. Maybe until
you really do cry." "B... but that's not fair." She snickered and said,
"Fair, schmair. You got yourself into this and now I'm pulling your
strings. If you want a chance to avoid ending up with the world's worst
set of blue balls, there's one thing you can do." "W... w... what?"

She allowed him to fret for a few minutes while she ran her hands over
him and even took his wrists to place his palms on the fronts of her
hefty boobs. At last she revealed, "The one way you can get relief from
all this teasing and the stiffy it's giving you..." She gave his nipples
gentle tweaks. "... is to have me put you back into your chastity."
"Ah... all right. If you w... wan... want to." "Oh no," she said
merrily, "it's only if YOU want me to, Annie. Either you ask for it, or
I keep up this teasing until you have some kind of a breakdown, pretty
girl." He moaned and told her, "O... kay. Please, put it back on me."
"I can do that. But I don't want you fussing about putting it on and
taking it off and back and forth. So we need to agree on how long you
stay locked before I even think about letting your dick see the light of
day again. How long would be long enough? Three days? A week?" "Not a
whole week." "Okay. Ten days? Two weeks?" "N... no. I meant LESS
than a week." "You said 'not a whole week', so I moved on to the next
number of days. I was increasing it each time, so you knew it would get
longer. Right?" He was so confused and distracted. She put her hands
on the backs of his and made him rub her breasts. He felt her nipples
stiffen. They were so hard. Then she replaced his hands back at his
sides, and blew lightly into his face, letting him inhale her sweet
breath.

"So," she went on, "maybe three weeks?" "I can't... you sh...
shouldn't..." With a smile she advanced to, "One month?" He squirmed
under her. His lips moved but he couldn't speak. She happily concluded,
"All right, you win. Six weeks before we even mention letting you out
again. You must really enjoy having your mini-meat locked up. But since
you gave me such a hard time, and because I'm being nice enough to give
you what you really want, I think there should be something else in this
for me. So how about if..." She pretended to think about it. "... if I
keep teasing you for the entire time? Sound good? Then let's do it.
Back you go into that chastity tube that you love so much, and I'll
continue to keep you plenty juiced up, your dicky trying to get hard,
even though it won't be able to. We'll both have such a good time."
Knowing that he had been outmaneuvered -- again -- and that anything else
he said to try to fix the situation would only make it worse for him,
Arnold simply said, "Yes, dear. Thank you, Randi." She got up,
retrieved the chastity, and invited him to stand. He did but he was
still stiff. She made him go to the kitchen, with her following to be
sure he didn't try to sneak in an ejaculation, and he had to get an ice
pack from the freezer. She held it while Arnold was permitted to give
himself a few strokes, which naturally brought him back to a peak of
craving.

Only then did she have him hold the freezer pack against his privates to
reduce them to other smallest dimensions. She made a few jokes about how
tiny his parts had become before she placed the chastity back on him and
gleefully locked it. Then she stepped back, put her hands on her sexy
hips, and stood there letting him think about how much worse his
predicament had become. His lower lip trembled, which she found
charming. It made him appear extra girly. Then she smirked, stepped
close to him, and stroked the side of his face, saying, "Poor Annie girl.
Always getting herself into some kind of trouble. Let's go back to the
bedroom and play a game." He said, his voice small and wispy, "Yes,
darling. Whatever you want." She led the way, with him desperate to
touch that wide, swinging backside that was in front of him, so close but
now inaccessible unless she granted him permission to touch it.

Once they were in the bedroom she selected a tube of lipstick, opened it,
and showed him that it was a bright shade of red, which she informed him
was called Candy Apple. He thought she was going to apply it to his
mouth but instead she put it onto herself. Seeing his unspoken question
she explained, "No, I still want to keep you looking only halfway like a
girl, Annie. The pansy look. This is for the kissing game we're going
to play." She made him stand in front of her while she lightly rubbed
his shoulders, ran her fingers over his upper arms, and tickled his neck.
He was getting aroused all over again and, with that chastity tube re-
locked, it wasn't comfortable. She brought her face close to his and
placed a firm kiss on his cheek, pulled away, and then did the same on
the other side of his face. Randi turned him toward the dresser mirror
and he saw two vivid sets of lips prints decorating his face. Combined
with what he was wearing and the hint of cosmetics, it made him appear
blatantly not masculine. He blushed, which only added to the ********
effect.

His wife chuckled and then placed another kiss on his forehead, making
sure her full bust touched him. He shifted restlessly from slipper shod
foot to foot, unsettled by the innocent yet intimate contact. Randi
freshened her lipstick and planted the next several kisses on his neck,
chin, and the top of his chest. He was quivering from pent up need. His
libido was in hyper-drive but not able to take him anywhere. His bride
told him, "Lift up the front of that pretty camisole, Annie. Nice and
high." He brought it to a level where he was just able to peek over it.
She lowered her face and placed a kiss on the hairless center of his
chest and then a lingering one on each nipple, sending him through the
ceiling. She stepped back and told Arnold to lower the garment. He
could smell her lipstick on his face and body.

"Now that you're in the mood," she declared, "let's hit the sheets and
you can eat my pussy until I have some wild climaxes. At least one of us
will get to finish tonight. You have to wait... how long did you agree
to?" He lowered his eyes and, once more using his Annie voice, conceded,
"It was six weeks, Randi." "Really? You're sure?" "Yes, dearest."
"You really are quite the pervert, Annie, wanting to be kept locked up
like that. But who am I to judge? Now let's get busy. In fact, before
you start on my twat, you can pay some attention to my ass. Just pretend
it's another pussy and get your tongue working on it. Okay?" She asked
it as if he had a choice. As completely snared as he was, he tactfully
replied, "Yes, Randi. Whatever you say." She made a mental note to get
him stuttering again. It was so amusing to make him lose control of not
only his appearance and sex life, but even his ability to speak. She had
him kneel and peel down her slacks, but she kept the top on so he would
still be less dressed than her. She loved playing mind games with her
pansy husband.

So he served her, back and then front, while his confined penis continued
to strain against its chastity. His moans of desperation got her hot, as
did having her butt worshipped by his mouth. And already she was
planning more outfits for him, ones that would shame him to no end.
Visions of him in panties and tube tops, a thong and stockings and a
choker, or maybe a floppy pink beret, bow tie on an elastic band, and a
spangled vest, engaged her racing imagination as he lapped away at her.
She smiled contentedly and vowed never to let him escape her clutches.
Soon she was rushing toward the first of what would be a trio of loud
satisfying orgasms. By the time he was finally done she was already
formulating new mischief. After her last finish she rolled onto her side
and told him to wedge his face between her bum cheeks and keep it there.

Once he got his features buried in the humid earthy cleft of her sitter,
she reached over to the bedside table and got her cell phone. Randi hit
the pre-set number of one of her girlfriends. While Arnold listened
helplessly, totally cowed by the spot she had put him in, his nose
against her nether pucker, she asked her pal for the number of a golfing
club she played at. "Yeah," Randi said, after she had entered the number
in her cell's address book. "I want to take some lessons. I'll get a
cute golf outfit with a form-fitting top and short-shorts. Then I'll
have one of those handsome young instructors give me lessons. Do they
really stand behind you and reach around, to position your hands on the
club? They do? Well, I can't wait to see what that'll lead to."

It was two weeks after that when Randi came home on Saturday afternoon
with a hunky guy in white slacks and a blue sports shirt. Her golf pro.
She called for Arnold to come and meet him. The harried husband was
wearing a sleeveless peach top, brief apricot shorts, banana yellow ankle
socks, and pomegranate slip-ons. He looked like a fruit salad. Randi
said, "Carl, this is my husband Arnie, but he prefers to be called Annie.
The poor dear's been going through some gender identity issues. Annie,
say hello to my new friend." In a high breathy voice Arnold said,
"Hello, Carl." The tall man just said, "Right," while giving him a
skeptical look. Randi put both hands on Carl's hard bicep and rubbed it
suggestively, saying, "I don't guess you'd want arms like this, Annie.
Would you?" Licking his glossy lips, Arnold had to say, "No, sweetie.
No th... thank y... y... you." Ah, there was that endearing stutter.
Randi told Carl, "It hasn't been easy for me since my spouse began
exploring his pansy side. I've really missed certain perks of marriage."
She pressed herself against the athletic man and said, "Speaking of
which, would you like to see my bedroom?" He grinned at her and said he
would. Then he threw a harsh look of warning at Arnold, who cowered and
broke eye contact.

The pansy husband stayed where he was while they vanished into the
bedroom. It had been so demeaning to be seen in that outfit. He heard
the unmistakable sounds of foreplay and then vigorous sex, with Randi
giving her new lover endless compliments and saying what a dud Arnold had
always been in the sack. It went on for nearly and hour before she
called for her spouse. The girlishly dressed man went to the door and
said shyly, "Yes, dear?" She ordered him to bring them two wine glasses
and a bottle of white that had been chilling in the fridge, so they could
'celebrate'. When Arnold, now more shamed than ever because he had been
so openly cuckolded, stepped gingerly into the room, he was greeted by
the sight of his nude wife snuggled against the equally clothes-free
stud. The sheets were pushed down to the foot of the bed. Carl's cock,
larger even now that it was soft than Arnold's was hard, rested on his
firm hairy thigh. Randi reached down absently and gave it a squeeze.

Arnold swallowed with difficulty and struggled to open the wine. It was
just a screw-off cap, but Carl had to remove it for him. Arnold poured
with a trembling hand and watched while the pair clinked glasses and
toasted to, as Carl said arrogantly, 'many repeat performances'. They
drank and then Randi got up onto one elbow to kiss him warmly, prolonging
it while their tongues met and then entered each others' mouths. Arnold
could only stand there in his humiliating outfit and sniffle, the bottle
clutched to his bright feminine top. His wife smiled wickedly at him and
said, not in a mean way but making it clear she was serious, "Get used to
it, Annie girl. There will be lots more showy outfits for you to wear,
plenty of serving my pussy with your mouth, and definitely as much of
what you just had to listen to as Carl wants to give me. He's the
complete opposite of you. And now that I have him, I've thought about
when I might feel like letting your tiny dick out for some exercise, and
I've decided to add another -- oh, I don't know -- how about six weeks
additional to your time under lock and key? That'll make it almost a
quarter of a year. And after that I'll think about it again." She
rubbed the side of her face against Carl's sculpted chest and looked back
at Arnold while she warned the cuckold, "But you shouldn't get your hopes
up, pansy Annie."












CHASTE SISSY SELECTIONS

by Throne

"What's the matter, lover boy?" Tanya asked with an amused expression on
her pretty face. "You're the one who wanted to be locked up in that
tight little chastity tube, Billy. I mean, sure, you thought it would
just be for an hour or so, and that I would let you out so we could have
wild sex. But I did warn you that I can be very mean, didn't I? When
we started two weeks ago?" She laughed breathily, a soft and sinister
sound. "So now you're stuck. I've got the key and you're not getting
out any time soon. I like you this way. I also like those yellow
panties I made you put on. With your boy parts squeezed so tight in
that device, it almost looks like you only have a nice girly mound down
there. And that sweet belly shirt, with those bright horizontal rainbow
stripes, is so cute on you. Your pretty outfit really shows off what a
good job you're doing of keeping yourself free of any nasty old body
hair."

She sat there on the edge of the bed, fully dressed in some of her
sexiest clothes, watching him drool over her, knowing that he could do
nothing about it, relishing how well tamed he was becoming since she had
put him into chastity. "Now," she went on, "I'm having some of my
girlfriends over later and you'll be serving us drinks and snacks. I
need to see if you've been practicing your swishy walk and body language
like I said you should. Let's go. Mince around the room for me a few
times." He cringed at the thought of having to display himself that way
and, worse, having those other girls see it when they arrived. But what
choice did he have? Tanya had gotten him into chastity and now he was
trapped. If he ever wanted to escape, he had to cooperate completely.
Billy took a few tentative steps, remembering to sway his hips as he put
one foot directly in front of the other. He kept his upper arms at his
sides but angled his lower arms out, keeping his wrists limp.

Tanya chuckled at the ridiculous sight he made. His trim bottom rolled
nicely in those snug panties. She had parted his collar-length hair in
the middle and pulled it into two short ponytails at the sides of his
head, then fixed them there with pretty bows. After Billy had made
three humiliating circuits of the room she stopped him. "Now step into
those flashy shoes over in the corner and do it again. Don't worry,
those are platform heels, so you won't fall over. Probably." He did as
told, wishing there were some way to convince her to free him. Instead,
his discomfort and anxiety only made her want to keep him locked for
longer. He still owed her another ten days before she was due to
liberate his manhood.

"Very attractive," she praised him after a half dozen trips around the
room in the shoes. "You can just keep those on while you clean my
entire apartment. I love the way those heels shape your legs. They do
wonders for those smooth calves." Billy started beating himself up
mentally again. How could he have let himself be locked up this way?
And as smart as he was, why couldn't he convince her to set his penis
loose? He shook his head as he picked up a dust rag in one hand and a
pump bottle of some cleaning fluid in the other to begin his chores. He
dreaded having to spend the next two hours acting like a maid,
especially cleaning the bathroom from top to bottom. He took one more
longing glimpse at the seductive young woman before he began his work.
She made a show of sitting herself down, picking up a magazine, and
flipping the pages, confident that he would finish all the work on time.
Tanya would get ready when she was ready to get ready.

******

Danny was cowering in the woods, totally naked except for glitzy sandals
and a silly beret. Whatever it was that Maria had slipped him at the
party last night, after she thought he was coming on to her best gal
pal, had made changes in his body. Not only was all of his hair gone
below the eyebrows, but his skin was extra smooth and on his chest were
the beginnings of two soft protuberances. Worst of all, his long proud
cock was tightly imprisoned in a chastity tube, made of steel, that was
securely locked. He whimpered as Maria, fully clothed and smiling
smugly, appeared, assuring him, "You don't have to worry about if you
should attempt to get to your car. It's all locked up. If you want to
try to get the key from me, I can give you another demonstration of my
marital arts skills." He sank down, trying to hide his shameful
nakedness behind a low bush. As he looked up at the buxom, dark-haired
girl, he said in a small voice, wondering why he sounded so...
feminine... "No, I don't want you to show me again. Last night, after I
got fresh with Tina... I mean after you thought I did... that was
enough."

"What can I say, Danette? Everybody who saw you thought that's what you
were doing. I know you say it was her fault, but how could that be? Do
you think I put her up to something? That I was looking for an excuse
to do this to you?" When he was too intimidated to answer, she just
chuckled and went on, "Besides, I really LIKE having you in chastity. I
know it's been less than 24 hours, but a horny pig like you is probably
feeling the effects of being around girls and not getting off by now.
Am I right?" He lowered his eyes and whispered, "Yes, Maria." "Ah,"
she said with satisfaction, "that's the tone I want to hear. All the
time. If you expect to get out of that chastity anytime soon." She
thought for a moment and then, as if the idea had just hit her, told
him, "You know what would be the perfect way to cool off your fevered
libido? You could take a nice swim in the lake over there." "L... like
THIS?" "Of course not like that. I would hold your hat and sandals for
you."

He looked like he was going to cry. "But there are campers on the other
side of the lake. They might s... see me." "Would that be so bad? You
might find someone ELSE to hit on." "B... but I don't want some other
girl." "No? Well, if you look again, you'll see that everyone over
there is guys." He gasped and instinctively covered his bare chest with
his hands. He was very conscious of the way he was changing there.
Maria said, "Let's just think about last night for a minute. If I did
what you seem to think I did, that would make me a very nasty and
manipulative woman. The kind who would get a kick out of keeping you in
chastity. For a long, long time. So it might be in your best interests
to appease me right now, before I make any major decisions regarding
you, and get in the water and start paddling around. Or if you'd rather
just wait and see what I come up with if you DON'T do what I say..."
She left the choice hanging in the air. Danny gingerly took the hat off
and handed it to her. He slipped his feet out of the showy sandals and
gave them to Maria as well. Now he felt even more vulnerable, his
smooth pink body on display and his cock trapped that way. She glanced
up at the bright sun with concern and then insisted on putting some UV
blocker on his lips and cheeks, assuring him that it was waterproof.

She patted his bare bottom and said, "Get swimming, Danette, or I
can..." "I'll go," he said in that unfamiliar voice. Even though it
was a warm day he shivered as he scooted from one bit of cover to
another, trying to hide himself for as long as he could. Then he
scampered to the edge of the water and rushed in, eager to conceal
himself. When he was in up to his neck he took a few strokes away from
shore, wondering what it would take to satisfy Maria. He looked back at
her and was horrified to see Tina and several other girls from the
previous evening's party had arrived. They were moving down to the
sandy border of the lake, pointing at him and aiming their cell phones
in his direction, taking pictures. He blushed and ducked underwater,
kicking away from them. When he surfaced he saw that his presence had
attracted other attention. There were several tall hunky guys in skimpy
bathing suits stepping into the water, nodding toward him and saying
something to each other. One of them, a real muscleman, slid into the
water and swam toward him with long powerful strokes. Before Danny
could react he was alongside, smiling and saying, "Well hello there.
You are one cute piece of fluff."

"I... I'm not... cute." WHY couldn't get speak in his normal voice?
The guy said, "Oh, I think somebody's in denial. Or just playing hard
to get." He laughed happily and reached out to stroke Danny's bare
shoulder before asking him, "Why don't you come over to our side... of
the lake?" Confused and scared of what the girls might do to him, he
unhappily began to move toward where the group of males was waiting. He
reached shallow water but didn't want to go further. The fellow who had
swum out to him said, "Let Josh help you," before he scooped him up in
his powerful arms and lifted him completely out of the water. Danny
squealed, not wanting to be shown off to all those young men, who he saw
were eyeing him with lust. Oh no! Josh was carrying him into the midst
of a crowd of horny gay men. Danny kicked his feet ineffectually and
tugged at his captor's strong arms with wasted effort. He tried not to
cry as he was set down and the good-looking guys crowded in on him.
Their main point of interest was his groin, and the snug-fitting
chastity tube. Several pointed and giggled as he cringed, wishing he
could somehow hide his smooth hairless form.

"Don't be so shy, dear," one of the onlookers advised, sounding a lot
less butch that Josh. "We can all see that you want attention." "I..."
Danny didn't understand. He managed to say in a strained whisper, "What
do you mean?" "Oh, Mary, don't tell me you put that face-paint on by
accident." "Face... what?" Josh took him by his upper arm, marched him
forward, and stood him alongside someone's SUV, then gripped the back of
his neck and forced his head down so that he was staring into the side
mirror. Oh no! That 'sunblock' Maria had applied was colored and
looked like lipstick and blush. How could he ever convince these guys
that he was straight? Danny stammered out what he hoped was a coherent
story, but when he claimed that he had let a girl put him into chastity,
the butch guys guffawed and the fem ones tittered. This was starting to
look hopeless. Josh let his hand slide down to cup one of Danny's
bottom cheeks. The hapless nude male lurched forward, right into
another gay predator, who threw his long arms around him and pretended
to hump him.

That was when Danny saw two carloads of girls pull up nearby. They
tumbled out of the vehicles, led by Maria. She smiled at Josh and said,
"I see you're taking care of my cousin Danny. Or as he likes to be
called, Danette." Josh grinned and said, "So he DOES like playing at
being a girl." "Well," Maria improvised, "he's kind of half in and half
out of the closet. Can't get in touch with his true personality. We
could leave him here and you studs could help him be his real self. Or
we could take him with us, back to my place, and give him some time to
think about it... while he acts as our serving girl." She gave Danny a
penetrating look and said, "It's your choice, sweetheart. Do you want
to stay with the guys and maybe lose your virginity, or go back with us
and play slave games, maybe get your tempting fanny swatted." Danny
didn't like either choice but the thought of staying with these eager
males horrified him. He forced himself to tell her, in a strained
feminine voice, "I want to go back to your place and... be a servant to
all these girls."

The guys booed as several sets of female hands seized him and pushed him
into the back seat of the second car. One girl got on either side of
him and they freely pinched his nipples and pretended to rub his
***********ed manhood through the tube. He couldn't achieve tumescence
and sat there whimpering, begging them in his girly tones to leave him
alone. All too soon he was at Maria's apartment. But the car didn't
stop. They went halfway up the street and one of them told him, "Let's
see you scoot back to Maria's, all naked and attractive like you are.
Nobody'll see you. Maybe." They shoved him out the door and, shielded
by the auto, he dashed into a clump of bushes and crouched down. A
branch jabbed him between his bottom cheeks. The only people on the
street were college-aged, male and female. If he waited much longer one
of them would spy him and probably spread the word. He had to make a
break for it. In desperation he raced toward the next patch of cover.
He heard a wolf whistle but couldn't be sure if it came from a guy or
gal. The car backed up slowly to keep pace with him, the girls in it
hooting and hollering. He sprinted from cover to cover and finally
reached Maria's front door, but it was locked. A pair of jocks across
the street gaped at him and started in his direction. Just as they were
getting close the door behind him opened and he was yanked inside.

"So pretty," Maria enthused as he stood there blushing all over. "Now
lets get you into some clothes so you can start waiting on us." His
'clothes' turned out to be a lace handkerchief, which they used string
to turn into an improvised apron that covered almost nothing. Then
someone perched a doily atop his head and pinned it there. Finally,
another girl put a pair of high heels in front of him and told him to
get his feet into them. They were tight and he had trouble taking
steps, but he wasn't permitted to remove them. Instead, he had to
totter around like that while they made jokes at his expense. At last
someone gave him a job to do, fetching sodas for them while they lounged
around. He had to get one can at a time, so he was constantly racing
back and forth while they jeered. One of them found a wooden kitchen
spoon and made him stop so she could administer a dozen hard smacks to
his uncovered butt. He yelped and blubbered while they mocked his lack
of machismo. The soft mounds on his chest jiggled.

Maria was wildly amused by all of his suffering and shame. She said,
"Now I think it's time for you to entertain us. Somebody put on some
music, something with a strong beat, and Danette can show us what a good
dancer she is. You ARE a good dancer, aren't you, Danette? If not, you
can be our bedroom slave." "N... no," he piped. "I'll dance for you.
And do whatever else you want. Just don't make me go with all these
girls into the... bedroom." Maria laughed. "Of course we won't do
that, Danette. None of us wants to use you as a sex slave," she lied.
"Now let's get you dancing."

******

Chuck's wife, Rosanne, sat in his recliner while he stood in front of
her, shamefaced. She said bluntly, "I was really surprised to see all
that stuff in your porn stash on our computer. I was especially shocked
by the chastity pictures and stories. Is that really what you fantasize
about, dear?" He turned down his eyes and mumbled, "Yes, dear. I'm
sorry. It's just..." "I didn't ask you for an apology, Chuck. In
fact, I was kind of turned on by that stuff. Especially by the fiction
on that site, Storyphila, the ones where the wives feminize their
husbands. You like those too, don't you?" His cheeks flushed as he
admitted that he did. "Well, I can see an opportunity for us to start
over as a couple and reignite what has become, frankly, a pretty dull
sex life." She let her words sink in and gave him a moment. He didn't
want to say the wrong thing but couldn't stop himself from asking, "So,
are you saying that you want to... try some of that?" "I'm saying that
I found the chastity device you ordered on line and I want you to go get
it -- RIGHT NOW."

Filled with a mixture of fear and excitement, he rushed to his dresser
and dug around in the back of the bottom drawer until he found the
simple yet very effective item. He brought it uncertainly to his wife,
who held it in the palm of her hand. He gazed at her lovingly. And
hungrily. Rosanne was a tall blond with a stunningly full figure. She
smiled at him and said seductively, "Get undressed, loverboy. Let the
games begin." Feeling slightly more relaxed, he began to strip out of
his clothes. Soon he was before her in the nude. She smirked at him
and the way he was getting partly erect. "Why don't you go to the
fridge and get an icepack? Hold it against your naughty dick on your
way back." She really had been checking out those pictures and stories.
He wondered if she had spent much time on his favorite blog, the one
called something like 'Admissions of a Devoted Chastity Enthusiast' or
whatever it was. When he returned with the blue plastic box of frozen
liquid held dutifully against his member, which shriveled up from the
low temperature, his wife was pleased. She summoned him near with a
gesture, still in the chair, and indicated that he should remove the ice
pack.

As soon as it was out of the way she deftly slipped the chastity cage
over his cock and closed it behind his balls. Then she held up the key
and said, "Do you want me to lock you in, darling?" He took a deep
breath, unable to believe that his cherished dream was about to become
reality, and said, "Yes, Rosanne. Please use that key." "But you
understand that I might decide to keep you in there for longer than you
want?" He bit his lips for a second before assuring her, "I know.
Whatever you say, that's what we'll do. For as long as you say." She
told him, "Oh, you poor boy. I'm liking this already and the thought of
keeping you trapped in that tube is getting me so excited. That and how
I'm going to dress you. But I gave you a choice." She put the key in
and turned it, then took it and attached it to a thin gold chain she
wore around her neck. "Now you're going to have to live with that
choice." His throat was suddenly dry and he could only nod.

Rosanne stood and gave him a warm kiss. His crotch tingled and his
penis tried to erect, but was frustrated by the tight cage. She cupped
his balls in her soft hand and lightly massaged them. He groaned as his
organ tried harder to grow large. His wife rubbed her heavy breasts
against his bare chest and he panted with need. "This is even better
than I imagined," she said, maybe to him or perhaps just to herself.
Then, coming out of her brief reverie, she announced, "Time to go to the
bedroom and get you prettied up." Feeling dizzy with happiness, Chuck
followed his gorgeous wife, admiring how her broad bottom rolled in the
tight slacks she was wearing. He automatically thought of sex but then
just as quickly understood that he wasn't going to be granted that
reward. No, his wife now shared his passion for chastity. It was a
dream come true for him. But how far would she take it?

In the bedroom she produced several plastic bags from the bottom of her
closet and began to fuss with their contents without revealing what they
held. All at once she brought out a pair of silk panties and a satiny
corset. His mouth dropped open. He had saved a series of photos in
which a man was put into chastity and then dressed in those same pieces
of clothing. His wife held them out to him and he accepted them
wordlessly. While she watched, he began to dress. Chuck had almost no
body hair to begin with and had been secretly trimming what little grew
on his crotch, so that now he possessed only a modest patch there. She
nodded approvingly as he stepped into the panties and slid them up his
legs, feeling their seductive softness. Then he began to try to put on
the corset. Rosanne chuckled and stepped in to help him. She lightly
stroked his bare arms before she began to lace it up. When she was
halfway done she kissed the back of his neck. In the end she tugged the
cords as tight as she could, compressing his waist just as the tube
compressed his shaft. He felt utterly under her affectionate control.

She told him to go into the closet and get what else was in the back.
It was impossible to bend at the waist so he had to sink into a deep
squat, aware of how he must look with his panty clad butt on display.
What he found was a pair of woman's shoes with three inch spike heels.
He stood and reverently held them to his chest as he turned to face his
wife. She simply said, "Put them on... Cherry." He took a shuddering
breath. Not only had she put him into chastity and dressed him, but she
had even given him a female name. He cooperatively put down the
footwear and stepped into it. He wife was pleased. She had him walk in
them and, when he had difficulty, told him not to be concerned because
she would make sure he got lots and lots of practice. Chuck nodded
mutely. She said, "Now, Cherry, there's one more thing to take care of.
Let's make sure you understand how our love life is going to work from
now on. I'll give you a hint. For me there'll be as many orgasms as I
want. For you, practically none, if any. And with your dick under lock
and key, how are you going to please my pussy?"

He said hesitantly, "I'm going to... use my mouth?" "Good girl. I know
you've never done that for me, but with a bit of instruction I'm sure
you'll excel. In fact, I will MAKE you the best you can be." She sank
back onto the mattress and sighed languidly. "Now be a good chaste
spouse and undress me. I'm sure it'll be kind of tricky with me lying
down but, hey, from now on making things easy for you will NOT be a
concern. Quite the opposite. Now start with my shoes and don't hurry.
Then you can wriggled these tight slacks off me and unbutton my blouse
and work it off. I hope doing all that will get you aroused. I plan to
keep you worked up all the time, Cherry. Won't that be fun... for me?"
Sounding suddenly feminine he told her, "Yes, Ma'am." The form of
address seemed inevitable. She liked it and told him to use it all the
time when he was dressed. Soon he was performing the unfamiliar but
strangely thrilling task, tasting her femaleness, feeling the panties
and corset against his skin, hampered slightly by the tightness of the
latter. But that small inconvenience was forgotten in the wild
excitement of being treated the way he had always longed to be. His
ravishing wife was dominating him and had suggested that she would be
keeping him chaste for quite some time.

After he had thoroughly satisfied her and basked in her compliments, she
said, "You know, not only do you have a natural gift for using your
mouth on me, but I'm sure keeping you heated up with no release will
only make you work harder at it. So let's say we set your first period
of chastity at... a minimum of... two weeks." He nearly swooned at the
welcome news. Two weeks of being her willing sex slave, of being
involuntarily chaste, and of being put into girly fashions, was like a
trip to paradise for him. "However," she went on, "any behavior that I
deem to be wrong... or that just irritates me for no particular
reason... will get you extra days in chastity. In fact, that blank look
on your face just cost you two added days. My whims could result in a
lot of time added to your sentence, Cherry my dear." He didn't mind.
In fact, his imprisoned cock told him that he loved it, as the trapped
organ strained against its unbreakable confines.

Rosanne said, "Now get into the missionary position, Cherry. Let's play
pretend." As he moved she explained, "We'll pretend that you're not in
chastity and I'm yearning to have you inside me." He was between her
legs, propped up on his arms, their crotches touching. She reached up
and began to toy with his sensitive nipples. He gasped as ripples of
stimulation travelled through his body, making his penis twice as
anxious to rise to its full height. Instead, it remained compressed,
his balls drawn up tight inside the panties, the corset squeezing his
middle without mercy. Rosanne said passionately, "Ohhh, baby, I need
you so bad. Put that big thing into me. Shove it in and ride me hard.
Do it. NOW!" But all Chuck could accomplish was to stay where he was,
pressed against her below the waist, as she returned to teasing him with
her talented fingers, making him writhe with unmet need, as she became
more and more stimulated by his desperation and her control.

At last she stopped teasing him. She had her husband lie alongside her
and put her hand over his. "That was wonderful," she said. "I am going
to keep you locked for a long time, Cherry. You are going to model all
sorts of sexy outfits for me and then use your mouth as if you were my
lesbian lover. Poor baby. You wanted chastity and now you're getting
it, plenty of it, until you overload and even after that. How do you
feel about that?" Speaking softly, he told her, "It's what I want. If
you feel like you're going too far, I hope you won't go back on what you
just said. Being your... feminine lover... in chastity... is precisely
what I've always wanted. I'm only sorry I didn't tell you before you
found out." "That's right," she said impishly. "You kept your secrets
from me. Bad girl. Just for that I'm adding two more weeks to your
sentence." She squeezed his fingers and he returned the gesture.
"Thank you," Chuck said with deep feeling. "You're welcome," his wife
responded. "I love you, baby." "And I love you more than ever."

******

I felt completely helpless. First of all, my penis was inside a
chastity tube that was lined with short points. I couldn't get hard but
if my body tried to, it would hurt a lot, but without breaking the skin.
Over that I was wearing a pair of tight rubber panties that mashed my
balls against my crotch. Any time I moved it cost me pain. There were
also rubber stockings, which were attached to the leg holes of the
panties with sturdy garters made of... naturally... rubber. On my feet
were rubber boots that made a double layer where they overlapped the
stockings. My wife Anya looked at me with satisfaction. I tried not to
appear as frightened as I felt. Hoping for leniency, I said, "Maybe you
could just leave me like this." She shook her pretty head and
responded, "But Burt, you know you don't want anyone to see you dressed.
And I am expecting company."

I shivered and said quietly, "Yes, dear." She seemed to be waiting for
more so I cautiously added, "Thank you, dear." She told me, "That's
better. Now let's get you into this lovely new rubber corset." My
bride made me put my hands over my head and lowered the pre-laced
garment over me until it was where she wanted it. Then she made me hold
it in place while she began tightening the laces. Anya works out and is
fairly strong, so she was able to make the corset tighter... and
tighter... and tighter. It compressed my waist until I was ready to
start weeping. Then she tied it off securely. Next came gloves that
reached all the way to my armpits. She had to sprinkle powder into them
to make them go on. And they were also made of you-know-what. The
material was tight enough that I could barely bend my fingers. Now,
even if she left me alone, I wouldn't be able to reach around and untie
the corset. And she wasn't done. There was also a rubber bra that had
small cups filled with foam. It fit snugly and gave the illusion that I
had breasts. I blushed a little to look down and see my swollen chest.

"I'll add the finishing touches before my guest arrives," she said,
sounding reasonable even though the situation was anything but. I
acquiesced silently. She led me out of the bedroom and into the
kitchen. My poor testicles were crushed against each other with every
step. She opened the fridge and eyed its contents critically, checking
my earlier purchases off verbally. "Beer. The right brand. And two
six packs should be enough for now. I assume there's more in the
garage." "Yes, love." "And wine. White and red." She closed the door
and went to the counter where bottles were lined up. "Whiskey, vodka
and rum. All brand names. None of that cheap stuff. Good. And mixers
to go along with them. I assume there are lemons and limes in the
produce drawer of the fridge?" I nodded. "Okay. And you have a good
record for buying snacks so I won't check those." She returned her
attention to the counter. "Where's the corkscrew?"

I swallowed drily. "I... um... forgot to put it out." "Well, well,
well. Would you prefer twenty hard ones with that sorority paddle I
bought at the collectibles shop, or an added week with your chastity
on?" I shrank up inside. She loved to give me two ******** choices and
then watch me squirm while I agonized over which one to take. She
wasn't disappointed. I'm always eager to get out of chastity and maybe
even be allowed to cum. But I also can't stand her paddle spankings and
am always anxious to avoid them. So both options were terrible. She
said, sounding like she wanted to be helpful, "It's okay. You can think
about it and let me know when I ask again." What she really meant was
that I could wriggle like a worm on a hook while I suffered over which
alternative to choose. Then she had me get the corkscrew... out of the
bottom drawer. In my restrictive outfit that was no easy task.

As I started to obsess over my decision, she began telling me what
chores she wanted done in the next two hours. Most of them were simple,
or would have been if I wasn't dressed in rubber. With my hands
hampered, and bending over made very uncomfortable by that corset, easy
jobs became difficult. I got busy, still agonizing over what my choice
would be. I began sweating from being mostly enclosed in rubber. She
left me to my tasks, busying herself for that visitor. My final job was
to scrub the bathroom floor. She always made me use a small plastic
bucket intended for a c***d to play with on the beach, and a tiny brush
that was meant for cleaning under the ends of fingernails. The work
became arduous and I was sweltering in the tight, barely flexible
rubber. When I finally got the entire floor clean she had finished
primping (and probably had time to relax as well) and returned to let me
see how she looked.

Anya was stunningly sexy in a short, electric blue dress that hugged her
generous curves, as well as showing off her deep cleavage. She had on
high black heels and she had worked some kind of female magic on her
hair, giving it a look that was high fashion and seductive at the same
time. She gazed down at me with a satisfied smile and said, "Now let's
finish getting YOU ready." I cringed but got up obediently and put away
my cleaning supplies. She led me back to the bedroom, her backside
nicely displayed in that dress, which made me aware all over again about
the disabled state of my cock. When we got there she had a rubber full-
head mask sitting on a mannequin head on her dresser. It was a new one
and I stared at it with uneasy interest, wondering what diabolical
'extras' it might offer. She made me stand there while she went to work
on my eyes, using mascara to thicken my lashes, blue shadow to darken my
upper lids, and lots of liquid liner to exaggerate the total effect.

Then she put the hood on me and zipped it up in the back, making it
cling to my features. She let me see myself in the mirror and I was
struck by how the cut-outs around my eyes created twin frames that
emphasized that portion of my face, as did high-arched eyebrows printed
on the rubber. There was also an opening around my mouth, so I was
surprised that she didn't apply lipstick. The mask extended downward
over my neck. As I had feared, there was an 'extra', which was metal
bands that formed an invisible collar and forced me to hold my chin
unnaturally high. My wife considered attaching a wig to the hood but
decided she liked me better the way I was, appearing somewhat bizarre.
She was quite satisfied with the job she had done and was running her
hands possessively over my rubber-sheathed form when the we heard the
front door open. She told me, "Go and greet my guest... Dolly." I did
feel something like a rubber doll, except that I still had the power of
speech.

When I got to the living room my worst fear was realized. As I had
suspected, her guest was her lover, Brick. He had picked up that name
as a football lineman in college, because he was as immovable as a brick
wall. That was easy to believe, considering that he was well over six
feet tall, broadly built, beefy and strong. I went up to him, hating
the way I looked, while he smirked at me. It was bad enough to be his
physical inferior and to have him making me a cuckold, but to have to
face him looking like that was emotionally devastating. He sneered at
me and said, in his familiar gruff voice, "I guess Anya wants me to use
this now." He reached into the pocket of his leather coat and pulled
out an odd device. With his free hand he gripped my lower face and
squeezed, forcing my mouth wide so he could shoved it between my teeth.
Brick twisted something and the metal contraption expanded. It was a
pear gag and there was no way I could remove it from my mouth with those
gloves on. As my bride came up alongside him he reached into his other
pocket and took out... an oversized pair of plastic lips? Not bothering
to be gentle, he fitted them to the protruding end of the gag and made
an adjustment, so that they were fixed there, pressed tight against my
face.

Anya laughed and when I dared to turn enough to view myself in the
entryway mirror, I learned that they completely covered the lower cut-
out on my mask. Now my face really had the look of a doll's -- a sex
doll's -- with my overdone eyes and those huge, red shiny lips. Brick
demanded a cold beer and I hurried off to get one. When I returned they
were in each other's arms, kissing ardently. My heart nearly stopped at
the sight, even though I had seen that, and much worse, many times
before. As distressing as it was, it also pushed my buttons sexually.
In its confinement my cock stirred and tried again to grow erect. That
hurt and I moaned, which is when I learned that the center of those fake
lips was open so that, while I couldn't speak, I could make sounds.
Brick said, "What's the matter, Dolly? Are you afraid I didn't kiss
your wife long enough? Or hard enough? She DOES like it long and
hard." He guffawed at his crude joke and I made another sad noise,
which inspired my wife to say, "I like him this way, so he can't bother
us with words, but we can still hear how miserable we're making him."

Imagine how totally emasculated I felt as they began steamy foreplay,
their hands wandering freely over each other's bodies. I whimpered,
mewled and groaned, unable to keep myself from vocalizing. The two of
them were turned on by my audible suffering and ground their pelvises
together, then started undressing each other. Pain stabbed my balls.
It had been so long since I was allowed to cum. Brick leered at me over
my wife's bare shoulder and said, "I don't know which one of you looks
hotter." She bit him playfully on the neck and massaged his crotch. He
gave her a lingering kiss, wet and slurping. Inside my feminine rubber
second-skin, I shivered, even thought I was broiling. They were almost
naked and he picked her up in his powerful arms, effortlessly carried
her to the bedroom, and laid her on her back in the center of the bed.
Brick looked at me and said, "Hey, weakling, take off your wife's
shoes." I meekly got onto my knees at the foot of the bed, the corset
cutting into my middle, my balls throbbing with fresh pain, and
struggled to remove her heels with my glove-restricted fingers. When I
finally accomplished the task I stayed there, hugging the shoes to my
false breasts, making more pathetic sounds, while he mounted her and
they had a protracted session of hard screwing, my wife squirming
happily beneath him while he hammered away.

She couldn't stop telling him how good he was and what a poor excuse for
a man I was. "Dolly is never going to feel the inside of my pussy with
her dick again. My husband was always a dud in bed. No spirit or
imagination, and he always finished too soon." "Yeah," Brick told her,
not even winded by his exertions, "but you've turned him into an expert
pussy eater. And that's what he'll be doing after I shoot my load into
you. My thick, hot, salty spunk." Those words drove her over the edge.
She was so excited by the thought of that added disgrace being inflicted
on me that she had a quaking orgasm. With his usual effortless control,
Brick waited until she was halfway through it before he let himself
spurt. Knowing he was finishing gave her an extra jolt of excitement
and she began a second climax before the first was over. They rose to
heights she could never have dreamed of with me and I couldn't help
feeling inadequate. They slowly came down and lay there, him on top,
supporting himself with his muscular arms, his biceps bulging. I sighed
in defeat. They sighed with contentment.

Eventually he rolled off her and they lay side-by-side, still
intoxicated from such great sex. At last he got up and grabbed me by
the back of the neck, saying, "Come on, sissy Dolly. Time to clean up
that big sticky mess I left inside your wife." He pulled out the fake
lips, released the lock on the gag, and tugged it from my gaping mouth.
I gasped. He propelled me onto the bed and toward my bride's waiting,
well used womanhood. I came to a halt immediately in front of it, took
a breath, and pressed my mouth against her labia, tasting his potent
sperm and immediately beginning to lap up and swallow it, sickened but
too cowed to object. He got back onto the bed and gave her a deep kiss,
his hand cupping the front of her full breast. She purred happily and
her hips twitched. Despite the double climax he had given her, she was
responding eagerly to my efforts. My wife had learned to be greedy and
selfish, to demand added pleasure from my submissive service. While I
lapped and swallowed, with Brick running his tongue over hers, she
mounted toward one more finale. It took a while but when it came her
hips bucked against my lower face while I continued pleasing her, making
sure she received the maximum fulfillment. At last she was done and I
gently licked her through a long afterglow. Then Brick crammed the gag
back into place and reattached those awful lips.

How long will my wife -- and her lover -- keep me in chastity. I think
this is going to be a permanent state for me. She loves to tantalize
me, toying with my tender nipples and blowing in my ears, driving me to
distraction with the always unfulfilled hope of relief. There have been
occasional releases from chastity in the past. Sometimes they include
her stroking me with her hand but I believe I won't be even that lucky
from now on. The last two times she only allowed me to stroke myself,
making me do it in slow motion so that, in both instances, I was able to
cum but they were spoiled orgasms, relieving the worst of the pressure
without providing full enjoyment. I remain frustrated. In fact, more
and more I find my thoughts about sex transitioning from the desire to
penetrate my wife, to the urge to taste her, to give her orgasms with my
mouth. Even thinking about how they mistreat and control me is
beginning to arouse me. I'm afraid that another few months of this
lifestyle will change me into what they've probably wanted all along, a
bed slave who is totally submissive and even craves being used. But I
imagine that even that won't be enough. I believe that they will just
keep driving me to new depths of surrender and degradation, feminizing
me and altering my behavior, until my self-image as a man is as
completely ruined as the sex life that I once knew.

******

I was standing there in the hallway, naked, when my girlfriend Tess came
up to me, fully clothed, and pressed herself against me, pinning me to
the wall. My mouth opened and closed but no words came. Her body
undulated and she said, "What's the matter, Bobby? Is something the
matter?" I took a deep breath and managed to say, "You know what's...
affecting me." She chuckled throatily and said, "I sure do. After all,
it was me who got you to accept being in that heavy-duty chastity tube.
And it was me who got you wearing panties. Speaking of which, where are
those sweet apricot-colored panties I selected for you this morning? I
was even nice enough to spray them with some cheap, obvious perfume I
bought for you... at the dollar store."

When I at last found my voice I told her, "I was just going into the
bedroom to put them on, dear. I had to get my shower." She sniffed me
and said, "You smell nice and clean but, really, I want to smell that
flowery junk I bought for you. And you owe me a dollar." Tess rolled
herself side-to-side to maximize the contact between us. I was
breathing hard because she had gotten me so stimulated, with very little
expectation of any release. My girlfriend might not be attractive to
some guys. She's kind of heavy. Well, actually, she's fat. Tess has a
pear-shaped figure with nice round boobs, very wide hips, a huge bottom,
and full thighs. To me she looks like a goddess. I like her short
blond hair and the wire-rim glasses she wears. While she was pressing
against me she had on sweats and running shoes, kind of ironic for
someone who abhors exercise.

Her plump hand went down and gripped the chastity device that had held
my penis prisoner for the last ten days. I moaned with need as she
twisted it playfully, not enough to hurt me. "Poor sweetie," she said
with fake sympathy. "Your balls must be getting awfully sore. Are
they?" I admitted that they had been bothering me. That I had woken up
in the middle of the night because of the discomfort. She looked me in
the eyes and said, "Then I had better not do THIS." Tess licked my
cheek like a cat. "Or THIS." She bent forward and lapped at my left
nipple and then the right one. I writhed from her love-play but did
nothing to try to stop her. When we had started dating seriously she
dropped the C bomb on me, the ultimatum that we could stay together...
if I agreed to be put into chastity. Tess is good at reading people and
read me like I was a huge billboard, unable to be missed. She plainly
saw how shy I was, how smitten by her, and deduced without even trying
that I would do anything she wanted.

Three days after the chastity went on she gave me my first pair of
panties. Which I also had to pay her back for. She was endlessly
amused by making me finance my own submission. As soon as I was in them
she began a long session of teasing, her hands all over my bare body,
driving me to ecstasy but without reaching the final heights. It got so
desperate that I blurted out that I was a virgin. She came to a
complete stop, I thought because she was taking pity and wanted to give
me a break. But it was the opposite. She told me, "I can't believe it.
You're my own *************. And I can keep you that way. For as long
as I please." Then she had resumed toying with my libido. That was
also the evening that she introduced me to having my mouth on her pussy.
I had almost no dating history and had never even thought about doing
that for a girl. But Tess insisted and, as I said, she knew that I had
no limits when it came to her. So, with her directing me, I was soon
adept at eating her to orgasms.

But now, as she kept me pinned to the wall, she said, "I've been
thinking. When you put that tube on yourself..." She loved reminding
me that I had done it voluntarily. "... when you did that, we talked
about making it for two weeks. Which would mean that you only have four
days left to go. Of course, when I let you out... if I let you out...
it would have to be entirely on my terms." I said weakly, "Of course,
Tess." I might not let you cum at all. Or maybe I'd just give you a
hand job. That way you'd still be a virgin. Right?" I nodded. "Or
maybe I'd make you play with yourself. While I sat around and ate
candy. Or popcorn. Like I was at the movies." She was so warm, her
body pressed to mine that way, so soft. "But how about if we went past
the two week mark? Hmmm? How about if I just keep teasing you, make
you stay in panties, naturally, and perhaps add to your sissy wardrobe.
We could go on a fun shopping trip and get you lots of pretty things to
wear. How about all that and as a reward..." She looked thoughtful.
"If you're really well behaved I would let you not only eat my pussy
but..." She paused and I was honestly so naïve that I thought she was
going to offer me full access to her body, but instead she concluded
with... "you could also use your mouth on my ass."

I made a disappointed sound but my penis was trying to get hard inside
its cage, I was so excited. Tess let her lips brush against mine. She
was so affectionate. My girlfriend said, "You know I love you, Bobby."
I said, utterly under her spell, "I know. I love you, too." "But
here's the thing. We need to be absolutely honest with each other. And
with ourselves. So I want you to think about it before you answer.
Bobby..." She waited portentously before finishing, "... how about if I
keep you in chastity indefinitely. Because maybe that's exactly what
you want." My mind froze. I hadn't considered that I might honestly
want to be kept chaste, to be denied sex while I provided her with all
the climaxes she desired, that I might even want to prolong my
virginity... indefinitely. But all at once I knew the truth. I did
want that. And I told her so.

Tess smiled and kissed me lightly on the forehead. She stepped back at
last and said, "Just for being so honest, I'm going to give you
something special to wear. Let's go to the bedroom." I followed her,
stunned by what I had just admitted to myself and to her. That's when I
got my next shock, when she handed me panties with a silly cottontail on
them. "Put them on, Bobby Bunny," she ordered. I stepped into the
foolish garment, thinking about how I had almost no body hair, and how
that probably added to my appeal to Tess. Next she gave me a white
vest, trimmed in pink faux fur, to add to the rabbit look. Then there
were slippers in the same fuzzy material and, to complete the costume,
bunny ears on a plastic headband. She stepped back and said, "You look
adorable. Now undress me and we can move ahead with your devotion to my
body and my pleasure. Just think, while you're sliding your tongue all
over my pussy lips, you'll get to have your hands on my hips, and maybe
sneak them down to my bottom. I bet that'll be a thrill for you. At
least I hope it will, Bobby Bunny, because from now on that's going to
be your sex life, my cute virgin."

I knew she was right, and that my devotion to her pretty face and zaftig
figure would only increase. I was hooked, in panties, in chastity,
willing to wear any sissy outfit she decided on, and ready to forego
entering full manhood by endlessly postponing the loss of my virginity.
All for Tess. My Queen. I said again, "I love you." After that my
mouth was otherwise occupied. She answered, "I love you too, pretty
Bunny." And then she was too busy gasping and purring to speak. And I
did get to touch her hips. And bottom. And even her well-padded
thighs. Life was good.














MEXICAN SHORTCUT

By Throne

Our Mexican vacation had been my idea. Or at least that's what I
thought. I realize now that my wife Angeles had planted the idea in my
mind. I like women who look like her, short, with olive-colored skin,
dark hair, and figures with exaggerated busts and bottoms. Not only do I
find that look exciting but, being short myself, I appreciate having
someone I don't have to literally look up to. She kept k**ding me about
how a trip south of the border would let me ogle as much of that type as
I could stand. She even hinted that, when I got wildly aroused, as she
knew I would, she would be there to help me release all my sexual
tension. Besides, she speaks fluent Spanish and I don't know any, so I
would have an expert translator. Well, I took the bait and we were soon
in a small city, staying in an excellent hotel. Every time we left our
room I got an eyeful of my favorite type of female. I told my wife, "I
hope you aren't going to get jealous, Angel." She gave me her wide
charming smile and said, "I know there won't be any problems."

Why wasn't she worried about me gawking at all those lovely senoritas? I
mean, I had flirted shamelessly with some of her Latina girlfriends at
home and come close to cheating more than once. The only reason I hadn't
stepped over the line was that Angel always took care of my voracious
appetites, even though I wanted it more than she did. Actually, she
wanted it too, but she wished I would go down on her, something I didn't
like at all and had never done. So our sex life was unbalanced in that
way. But I always reminded her that she had my impressively large cock
to do the job and should be happy with that. So there we were in Mexico,
with me having more fun than her while I went along to the art museums
and tourist sites, but all the time I was thrilling to the female sights.
I couldn't wait to bed my gorgeous wife and let off the steam that was
building up inside me.

The first evening she pleaded weariness at bedtime. It had been a long
day so I honestly couldn't fault her for that. She gave me a consoling
kiss, rubbing her big bust against my chest, and I went to sleep horny.
The next day and night were the same. I was getting very frustrated. It
was on the third day, after breakfast, that I started to feel ill. She
said she had seen something like it before, when she had visited the
country six months earlier to see relatives, and that I should go to a
hospital. I couldn't argue with that and soon I was registered. The
paperwork went smoothly and they got me a room at once. Then a nurse
came in to administer a shot. My wife couldn't help but notice that,
even while feeling poorly, I was staring at the young woman's boobs and
butt, well displayed in her traditional uniform. Instead of getting
irritated, Angel gave me an understanding smile, behind which I though I
detected some other emotion. A white-coated doctor came in and spoke
with my wife in rapid-fire Spanish, ignoring me. At the end of their
conversation he glanced at me with a puzzled expression, shook his head,
and walked out.

The shot took effect and I drifted off into medicated sleep. It seemed
like only minutes passed before I work up again, in that familiar
antiseptic room. My head lolled on the pillow and I looked up at my
alluring wife, who was smiling down at me, her expression definitely
wicked and... vindictive? She told me, "Everything went extremely well,
dear. There was something wrong with your male plumbing, but the problem
has been fixed... permanently. They say you will be a new man and I
believe them." Her words made sense but she seemed to be saying
something else at the same time. I didn't fully understand but was glad
I didn't have anything serious wrong with me. Angel said that we could
go back to the hotel in a few hours and enjoy the rest of our vacation
before returning home. "One thing, though," she pointed out, "is that
the bandages will have to stay on until we're back in the States, so you
won't be able to hop on top of me and get your rocks off for a while."
She leaned over me, her full bust temptingly close, and whispered hotly
in my ear, "We can look forward to getting back to business after we're
in our own bed. I know I'LL be thinking about it all the time until
then."

The way she said that got ME thinking about it non-stop. I was already
rammy from several days without any release. Now I started to feel like
a penned up bull. I sighed as she leaned closer and delivered an air
kiss several inches from my lips. It felt odd to have her in charge that
way. I was accustomed to being the one calling the shots in our physical
relationship. She even patted the middle of my chest before another cute
nurse entered the room to give me some fruit juice. It was a blend of
tropical flavors, a local product, and my wife and I started to discuss
that and how we wanted to sample more native cuisine before our trip was
over. I tried to keep my mind off sex but it wasn't easy. In fact, it
was impossible. My bottled up passion was still mounting. I needed to
get laid. Oh, well, I told myself, waiting would make it that much
sweeter when I finally got to give my Angel a proper pumping with my big
cock.

The rest of the vacation went nicely, despite my growing neediness. We
sent a bunch of postcards and then went home and got settled back in.
The hospital had given my bride written instructions for removing the
bandages and cleaning up the area, but they were printed in Spanish so I
couldn't read them. I was tempted to use the computer to try to
translate, because of those few moments of her acting odd in the
hospital, but after we were back in the States she acted extra seductive
so I focused more on that than on my concerns, which were probably
imaginary anyway. At last the big night came and it was time for, as she
called it, 'The Unveiling'. Angel told me that the doctors had assured
her that I would be fully functional right away and that we could
celebrate my return to 'normalcy', though she spoke that last word with a
curious inflection, as if she was saying that matters wouldn't be so
normal.

In the bedroom she got me naked. Angel was wearing an impossibly hot,
clinging item of lingerie that I guess you would call a teddy. It had an
open crotch and I couldn't stop stealing peeks at her pussy, though I
tried not to be too obvious about it. The last situation I wanted was
for her to be put off by my open lust. I mean, I had always been rather
demanding in the bedroom, making her assume inventive positions and even
wear kinky outfits. In fact, I was already thinking about pushing that
envelope a bit further when she snipped the bandages, making a joke about
not wanting to 'damage the merchandise', and dabbed me with alcohol and
then applied a washrag wetted with warm water. My wife playfully stroked
my chest, getting me aroused, and then hesitated. She said, "You look a
little different down there. Maybe you should just check yourself, real
quick, in the mirror. And then we can party." I was disappointed to
have to wait even an extra minute, but also concerned about anything that
might have changed in the region of my thick eight inches.

When I got out of bed she opened the closet so I could use the full-
length mirror on the inside of its door. I was horrified to see my
crotch, which had been denuded of hair for the procedure, where my
genitals were indeed, 'a little different'. I gaped at a one inch penis,
below which I could see no balls. My mouth hung open. I looked at my
wife and she just tilted her head to the side, smiled, and shrugged. "I
didn't want to upset you and ruin the vacation but, well, they had to do
kind of a lot of work. You had some sort of condition and this surgery
was absolutely necessary. But don't worry dear, they told me how we can
continue to have a full and satisfying love life. Really." Then she
said something in Spanish that, as always, I didn't understand.

My head was spinning as she led me back to the bed and helped me to lay
face-up. Angel said, "Here, honey, let me show you that everything down
there still works." Her small soft hand went to the juncture of my legs
and she began to massage me gently. At once my cock sprang to life. She
took my hand and placed it over the hard organ. Except that what was
hard was less than two inches long. My fingers explored lower and I felt
no testicles. She told me it had been medically necessary to relocate
them inside my body... 'for health reasons'. I couldn't believe what I
was hearing and feeling. "Don't worry," she assured me, "you'll still be
a man to me. Sort of. And naturally we won't breath a word of this to
anyone else. Sure, you won't want to go to the tennis club, you know,
because of the locker room, but I don't foresee any radical changes in
our lifestyle. We just have to switch to a different way for
lovemaking."

With that she knelt over my hips, her moist pussy positioned over my
ridiculously short penis. My male ego had been crushed. I felt weak and
helpless, pliable and dependent. She lowered herself to rub her mound
against my shrunken member and I gasped with the shock of extreme
stimulation. She said sweetly, "See, darling? You can still feel
everything. Maybe even more powerfully than before, now that your
attention is concentrated in a much... smaller... area." Angel giggled
and lowered herself all the way, so that my erect one-quarter-of-a-penis
was inside her. She rocked back and forth atop it, making my libido go
wild. Then she looked down at me sympathetically and said, "You can feel
everything but... well... you won't have the same ability to finish. You
know, because they had to stuff your balls up inside you, where they're
going to stay."

The way she made that last remark didn't match the sympathy she had put
onto her face. I was confused and unable to gather my wits, or assert
myself in any way. Angel rose up off my penis and, still on her knees,
repositioned herself over my face. I could smell the womanly fragrance
of her wet slit. She dropped down until her dark pubic hair tickled my
nose. Then she said, in a no-nonsense way, "From now on, Richard, I am
going to have to have MY needs met, and the only way for you to do that
will be with your mouth. You know I'm a passionate woman, so we will be
in here frequently, with me where I am right now. And you WILL please
me. That, too, will be our little secret." The implication, as I saw
it, was that if I didn't cooperate, she would leak the information about
my changed status to someone, to lots of someones. I shuddered at the
thought of everyone knowing what had happened to me. I would become a
freakish laughingstock. In a show of submission I extended my tongue
upward, barely making contact with her pussy, tasting for the first time
its salty distinctive flavor. I whimpered as she settled herself down
atop my mouth and began to give me instructions in a soft calming voice.

Three orgasms later she was satisfied. Angel dismounted and left me
there, my lower face slicked with her copious juices. She lay alongside
me and began to toy with my penis, saying cheerfully, "It's so small. No
woman would be able to look at it without laughing. But I'll take good
care of you, baby. I'll make sure you get your fun. The thing is,
though, that I think you'll be a better pussy eater if I keep you horny.
VERY horny. So for right now we'll hold off on giving you any cums and
just concentrate on me. But I'll give you lots and lots of teasing to
keep your sexual temperature high. VERY high." She giggled, which
seemed disrespectful, considering my difficult position, but I didn't say
anything. I really did feel like I was at her mercy. At that moment,
while I was at my weakest, she hopped out of bed, stretched -- which made
her beautiful breasts strain against the filmy lingerie, and said, "We
also have to discuss a change in your wardrobe." There was no
discussion. She simply said, "I can't see you in boxers or even jockey
shorts with how little you have between your legs... sweetheart. So I
have some panties that I bought for myself, but I got the wrong size, and
they'll be a perfect fit for you. Let me grab them for you and I'm sure
I'll love the way you look in them."

Feeling numb and still possessed by that sense of vulnerability, I
watched her go to the dresser, my eyes on her round protruding bottom,
and get a small pink bag from that popular ladies' shop in the nearby
mall. She reached inside and came out with a pair of high-cut, pink
panties with the word CUTE embroidered down one side. She grinned at me
and said, "I think these'll do it. After all, that tiny thing the
doctors left you with is pretty 'cute'. She held them out to me and
ordered, her voice firmer, "Put them on, honeybunch." I wasn't sure if I
was supposed to stand up or stay where I was, and didn't feel up to
making a decision. I took them and pulled up one leg, to put my foot
into the lightweight garment, realizing belatedly that I was making a
spectacle of myself in that posture, like a woman trying to get attention
while she dressed. Even so, I got them on that way, working them up and
lifting my bottom to pull them the rest of the way over my hips. I lay
there passively, still tasting her pussy, and looked to Angel for
approval. She said, "Yes, that's exactly the effect I was hoping for.
I'm going to keep you in panties from now on, Richard. Or should I
say..." She paused thoughtfully, before deciding, "... Rosita." She
snickered at how clever she found that, giving me a Spanish name. I
could only return a weak smile, hoping to get her on my side.

The next day she declared that we were going out shopping, to get me some
additional clothing that was appropriate to my new status. I wasn't
happy about it but still didn't feel up to opposing her. We got into the
car but, unlike what I was accustomed to, she took the wheel. I sat
there with my knees pressed together, aware of how laughably small my
penis was, remembering what she had said about no woman wanting me as a
sex partner, and unable to stop thinking about how she had put me into
panties. Oh, and I was wearing a fresh pair. These ones said LOVELY.
She mentioned as we were on the road that I would be hand washing my
'dainty underthings'. Our destination, I was unhappy to discover, was a
small shop that specialized in women's fashions for young females who
wanted to... well... to look flashy. As soon as we went inside the
striking, slightly older Latina woman behind the counter recognized her
and asked how I had liked that sexy lingerie she had bought, which I
realized was what Angel had been wearing the night before. My wife
switched to Spanish and they chattered away happily with me standing
there not understanding a single word.

My wife nodded toward my crotch and the woman, Estrella, went wide-eyed,
then laughed. They talked a bit more before I was led to the back room,
which was nicely decorated and had several mirrors, where I was left
alone while they went to pick fashions for me. I couldn't stop picturing
Estrella, her full figure, exotic eyes, full lips, and long black hair
pulled up in a bun at the top of her head. When they returned they each
held several items. Estrella told me with cool authority to strip. I
looked to my wife for support, to be told I didn't have to demean myself
that way, but she just smirked at me. With great reluctance I began
unbuttoning my shirt. Soon I was down to just the panties I was wearing,
shamefully conscious that my diminished penis showed as only a tiny bump,
fearing how it would appear when I shucked my last bit of covering. The
women were unrelenting, so down came the panties. I blushed and Estrella
gave a snorting laugh. She pointed at my shame and said something in
Spanish to Angel, who answered, whatever she said provoking laughter from
both of them.

Estrella handed me a pair of panties that were covered with ruffles. I
stepped into them. My wife spoke to her and rubbed my thigh. I looked
down and noticed that there was no longer any hair in that area. What
had been shaved off my crotch wasn't growing back. In fact, I was pink
and smooth all over, presumably another effect of what had been done to
me in Mexico. Next my wife gave me a camisole, which I put on over my
head. It was covered with bright vertical stripes, no two in the same
color. The panties were apricot, so I made a vivid picture. They had me
strut around, my wife telling me to walk as if I had her Lucite slippers
on. I used a feminine walk, my hips rolling and my chest outthrust.
Estrella made me hold my arms out slightly to the sides with my wrists
limp. It was disgraceful but I had no alternative. The woman from the
shop produced a cell phone and took numerous pictures. Then they
assisted me into a pair of super-tight Capri pants and had me model those
as well, with more pictures being taken. They kept it up until I had
modeled a half dozen outfits, all of which Angel bought, paying with my
charge card. She pointed out to me that she had chosen pieces that could
be mixed and matched, so I would have a new look every day.

Back at home I could see that my new life wasn't going to end. She
intended to keep my in this role, feminized and subservient, a sex slave
who could hope for rewards in the bedroom but might never get them.
There was a knock at the door and it was a delivery man with a package
that had to be signed for. It was in my name so my wife made me do it.
At the time I was wearing shorts and a tank top, both obviously intended
for a female, as well as sandals with blocky heels two inches high. I
felt utterly humiliated as the driver stared at me with undisguised
loathing. I wanted to run away and hide but, instead, thanked him in a
soft voice. My wife opened the taped package, as if I wasn't competent
to do it, now being such a wuss. Inside were several bottles which I saw
contained pills and capsules. She opened one of them and had me go to
the kitchen to get myself a glass of water. I was told to take two
orange pills and did so without complaint. What was I putting into my
body and how would it affect me? I wasn't sure I wanted to know.

******

After two weeks on those d**gs, my skin was softer and I had absolutely
no body hair. My chest had grown soft and my bottom felt like it was
filling out. Angel taught me to pluck my eyebrows, not a lot but just
enough to shape them somewhat, making me appear even less masculine. My
vacation ended and she called my boss, explaining that I was going
through some personal changes, getting in touch with my feminine side,
and she hoped he would understand. If I needed to be switched to less
demanding work she said she would understand. He had met her a few times
and was attracted to her, which I suppose was one of the reasons he was
so accommodating. At the end of the conversation she even became
slightly flirtatious. When I returned to the office I was allowed to
handle most of my accounts, although the largest and most profitable had
been handed off to an overachieving woman. I would be earning less but
Angel had revealed that she was managing my investments and doing much
better than I ever had, which was yet another blow to my already
shattered ego. My co-workers all noticed my altered appearance and I was
aware of their eyes on me as they tried to figure out what was happening.

By the middle of that week my wife had invited a friend of hers, Lupe, to
come around and watch me several evenings a week. I had met her
previously and was very aware of her abundant charms. She looked like
Angel, if my wife had gained about twenty pounds and almost all of it had
gone to her already impressive curves. Lupe took one look at me and
said, "Hola, Rosita." I hugged myself and muttered a greeting in
response. The two women gabbed a while in Spanish and then my wife got
ready to leave. She was nicely dressed, with large hoop earrings and a
glittering necklace that drew attention to her exposed cleavage. As she
went out the door, Lupe said, "Have fun clubbing with the other girls.
And watch out for those oversexed men." My spouse told her, "Ha.
They'll have to look out for me." Oh no. Angel was going out with some
of her girlfriends, to a club, and would be surrounded by horny guys who
were all planning to bed the women they met. I felt queasy at the
possibilities of what might occur. Lupe said she would take my mind off
all that, and her method was to assign me endless chores, all the while
badgering me and occasionally using a paddle on my backside. All I had
on was a fishnet body stocking that flaunted my hairless pink physique
and how soft it was continuing to become, with my chest and butt becoming
ever more girl-like.

The first night my wife returned and reported that she had talked to some
attractive men and let them touch her arms and shoulders. The next time
she bragged how she had kissed one stud, letting him run his hands up and
down her body and feel her butt. After each of those dates she made
demands on me, insisting that I lick her through one climax after
another, and even kiss her butt, gradually moving my mouth from her broad
cheeks to the valley between them for prolonged service. But it was her
third night out that brought the news I had been dreading. She showed up
looking disheveled and smilingly showed Lupe that she had brought her
panties home in her shoulder bag. I was in shock as she described going
to the apartment of the man who she let pick her up, doing an impromptu
strip tease for him, and then having wild sex. She laughed at me and
reminded me that I was no longer man enough to do that for her. She told
Lupe that she was taking me into the bedroom so I could give her a 'bonus
orgasm', at the same time cleaning up the messy deposit of cum that had
been spurted into her pussy. I grabbed my tummy and shook my head, but
Lupe took a heavy wooden kitchen spoon and gave my bottom --
unfortunately not covered at the time -- a dozen hard swats, which
convinced me that cooperation would facilitate self-preservation.

In the bedroom my wife made fun of me and blurted out that my predicament
had been planned and staged to leave me the way I was. She had been
pissed off at my selfishness in bed and my generally overinflated sense
of self-importance. This was her revenge and she intended to keep
inflicting it for the rest of our marriage, which she meant to continue
for many years. I was devastated. Perhaps, at some level, I had
suspected her wicked intentions. But ever since our return from Mexico I
hadn't felt able to stand up to her. Now it was hopeless. She laid back
on our bed and I humbly crawled between her out-flung shapely legs,
getting my mouth directly in front of her oozing pussy and giving it
several tender kisses, tokens of my final surrender, before I commenced
the unappetizing task of lapping another man's spunk out of her body and
swallowing it, giving her an orgasm while I was denied my own.

SIX MONTHS LATER

Angel sends me to work in women's clothes. My hair has grown in and she
has it styled at a salon, where I am the center of ******** attention.
That man who Angel slept with, a tall muscular Black man named Cannon,
comes to the house several nights a week. Either he takes her out or
they stay in, but either way their evenings end with the two of them in
her bedroom, having sex that goes on and on. I called it 'her' bedroom
because they often sleep there and I have to curl up on the floor of a
walk-in closet nearby, close enough to hear them if they wake up and have
more sex. On the nights when Cannon isn't there, I am allowed to sleep
alongside the bed on a fluffy doggie bed on the floor. At those times
I'm dressed in particularly showy lingerie with creative touches added,
like ribbons tied around my wrists and ankles, a big bow under my chin,
or my hair tied up with strands of colorful yarn. She takes pictures of
me like that and shows them to Cannon, whose deep hearty laugh stings me
every time I hear it. Lupe still comes when my wife is going to be out,
but now I am required to serve her orally as well, and she likes having
her ass pampered even more than my wife does. I'm afraid I'm becoming
addicted to being their body slave. I actually crave those demeaning
encounters with them.

My own sex life has finally been restarted, if you can call it that.
Angel lets me attempt masturbation, even though she knows that, no matter
how much I can stimulate myself, I'm not capable of finishing that way.
She does it to give her one more thing about me to laugh at and taunt me
about. The only way I can cum is for her to use a strap-on dildo and
take me from behind, which she delights in doing, calling me her bitch
and slapping my hips, which are now quite fleshy. I also have modest
breasts and can fill an A-cup bra. My life is an unending nightmare of
humiliation and sexual slavery. But, as I said before, she is getting me
hooked on it, and is thrilled every time she notices me responding to
something that, a half a year ago, would have repulsed me. She even has
me requesting that she **** my ass, just so I can dribble out a few drops
of watery cum and get partial relief, as much as an incomplete orgasm can
offer. She also had me pleading to be allowed to suck Cannon's discharge
from her, even though I know she's going to make me do it, because she
begins by suggesting that maybe she will cut me off from even the
perverse sexual contact of using my mouth all over her body. With my
heightened sex drive and inability to gain real satisfaction, I am always
desperate for whatever scraps, so to speak, she will offer me. My idea
of a rewarding evening is one that ends with me snuggled up behind her in
bed, my face between her warm butt cheeks, pleasuring her with my tongue
and hoping that she will drift off to sleep so I can stay there for an
extra hour before being sent off the mattress and back to my fuzzy pink
doggy bed, where I will lie curled up, whimpering, knowing that the
unhappy noises I make will titillate her and get her warmed up for her
next night with her lover.

THE END

































HELPLESS HUSBANDS

by Throne

WENDELL IS NOW WENDY (inspired by the Art of Sissy-Cuck)

Wendell was upset. His wife Talia had dressed him in an especially girly
outfit. Perched atop his head was a yellow cap with a short brim in the
front. His upper body was covered -- sort of -- by a clinging apricot
top with spaghetti straps. It ended several inches above his belly
button. Below that was a pair of red mini-shorts that rode low on his
hips and invaded the cleft of his bottom. His smooth shaved legs were
uncovered and on his feet he wore open-toed pink sandals with two-inch
block heels. It was bad enough she made him dress up, but couldn't she
at least let him have something like a plain sweater and slacks? Of
course she couldn't. Talia wanted him to look the way he did because she
wanted her date, Mack, to be the only real man in the house.

She called from their upstairs bedroom, "Wendy, come here. Right this
minute." Taking careful steps, which that footwear forced him to do, he
hurried to go to her. Wendell was aware of how his walk became feminine,
his slender hips rolling, and how his legs were reshaped, made less
masculine, when he had on those sandals. It added to his unhappy state
but what could he do. She had decided six months ago that, because he
was a dud in bed, and because he was always fussing about one thing or
another, she would have to take control of him. The best way to do that,
Talia had declared, would be to take him out of male clothing, to deflate
his manly ego. He wanted to stand up to her but had never been a
forceful person. Besides, he was desperate to get back into her good
graces so he could have another chance at proving himself as a lover.
The eternal optimist.

It had started slowly, with panties under male clothing. Then there were
unisex outfits. Wendell had not liked it but went along to keep the
peace. When he tried to negotiate some kind of agreement about their sex
life, she pointed out that his dick was embarrassingly small, he didn't
know how to use it, and everything was always over in a few minutes.
That was when she suggested (thought the idea wasn't open to debate) that
he should start using his mouth on her snatch. It was something he
didn't want to think about, let alone try, but she was insistent.
Wendell gave in almost immediately and that evening he got his first
taste, figuratively and literally, of oral sex. Talia loved it and
decided he would be performing for her on a regular basis. Also, because
she felt that keeping him horny would make him better at it, she revoked
all his rights to have intercourse.

He was thinking about all that as he went to her. When he got there,
however, his mind was taken over by what he saw. Talia was standing at
her dresser with her back to him, naked. His wife's long red hair was up
in a **** atop her head, baring her smooth neck. Her broad pink-white
back made him lick his lips. But it was her wide round bottom that made
him feel weak. He was obsessed with her sitter, how large and sexy it
was. Her legs were full and shapely as well. His little dick twitched
as he ogled her up and down. She turned halfway, giving him a side view
of one DDD breast, which added to his yearning. She smirked at him and
commented, "I can't wait for Mack to see you looking so pretty."

He wrung his hands and pleaded, "Please, if I could just... get rid of
the hat?" "No," she responded, intentionally mistaking his meaning. "I
know you want to show off your hair now that it's getting longer, but I
don't have time to style it." He could only hang his head in defeat.
She snapped at him, "Posture, Wendy. Please get my top off the bed." He
handed it to her shakily. Wasn't she going to put on a bra under it?
Obviously not, he realized as she tugged it down over her heavy breasts.
She adjusted them to her satisfaction, remarking that she knew Mack would
love the way they looked, "Especially how my nipples poke out against the
fabric. You know, Wendy, you should make sure I'm nice and turned on for
him. Get down on your knees and give my peach a few kisses. You've
gotten SO good at that." He shuddered but did as she instructed. She
moved her feet well apart. As his lips touched her mound she sighed and
he moaned. Talia smiled at how much control she was asserting over him.

After he had brought her to the verge of orgasm she kicked him onto his
back. With him staring up at her, she stuffed her overweight lower half
into tight stretch pants, then stepped into red shoes with tall
stilettos. Wendell had to stand and watch while she made up her roundish
face, applying enough cosmetics to give herself a slightly trampy look.
He hated when she did that. Well, he wouldn't have minded if it was to
turn on him. But she did it strictly for Mack, who got a kick out of
having her look sluttish. And act the same way, which she was happy to
do for the big man. After her face was done and she had let down her
hair, which fell to the middle of her back, she went to work on her
husband's features. Talia started by darkening his eyebrows, which she
had previously thinned and shaped. Then she used shadow on his eyelids
and liner around his eyes. She also thickened his lashes with liquid
mascara. A bit of blush went onto his cheeks. Finally came his mouth.
She carefully outlined his lips and then used bright scarlet lipstick to
fill in the bowed shape she had made. Over the already eye-catching
color she put a coating of gloss. Poor Wendell looked wildly girlish.
But with his hair untouched, and his chest flat, plus the slight bump in
the crotch of his panties, it was plain that he was a guy.

She made him brush her hair for five minutes before declaring herself
ready for her lover, adding, "I want to make him hungry for me, Wendy. I
want him to think about eating me up. Of course, he'll be doing it above
my waist. I reserve all the eating below there for YOU, my sweet sissy."
He whined, "Please, Talia, I don't want him to see me like this. You
know how he laughs at me and makes cruel jokes." "Of course I know. And
he knows how much it turns me on when he acts tough and in control like
that. The more he does it, the hotter I get. And the hotter I get, the
more fun it is for him when we hit the sheets." Wendell's shoulders
sagged as he admitted, "You're right. It's just that I don't want..."
He realized that he was simply going to make his previous complaint with
different words, so he shut up. When Talia got mad at him she wasn't
nice. She reminded him about his posture again, making him stand
straight. Then she decided to make his body language match his
appearance more closely.

"Wendy," she said with a smirk, "put your hands on your hips. That's
cute. Now stick out your butt. And walk around but put one foot right
in front of the other every time you take a step. Ohhh, that looks even
sexier than usual." She was still chuckling at his humiliation when
there was a loud knock at the front door. Mack had his own key but he
loved to make Wendell let him in. The harried husband went as fast as
he could on those two-inch heels. He got to the door, tried to compose
himself, and opened it. There stood Mack, looking down on him and
sneering. He had on a leather jacket and jeans, along with motorcycle
boots. Mack shook his head and marveled, "I didn't think you could look
any faggier, but you do. What a lame fruit." Wendell cringed and
invited him in, walking ahead of him and aware of Mack watching his
swishing gait.

Talia had gone to the bedroom. As soon as the lovers were together,
Talia and Mack threw their arms around each other and locked lips. He
ran his hands down her back to that generous protruding bottom. The
moment they stepped away from each other, she snapped at Wendell, "Get
Mack a beer, you stupid geek. Look at you, dressed up like the queen of
Gay Town. I have absolutely no respect for you." He whispered, "Yes,
Dear," and scurried away, still hampered by his footwear but remembering
to maintain his sissyish walk. When he returned the couple were
undressing each other. He stood by silently, seeing his wife's
stupendous curves uncovered. Mack finally grabbed his beer and popped
the top to take a long swallow. He told Talia, "Your wimpy, ass-wagging,
limp-wristed husband is a total waste. You make him get tarted up like a
pansy hooker looking for rough trade and he just lets you. And now he's
going to have to stand there and watch me bang you until you holler."
"Yeah," she agreed. "He's a complete failure at being a man."

Wendell ran his hands nervously over his thighs and licked his lips,
tasting the cheap cosmetics she had put on his mouth. She glared at him
and said, "What? Do you have something to say... Wendy?" He took a deep
breath and pleaded, "Please, don't make me watch. I can't stand it." "I
know, peanut-dick. That's why I keep you in the bedroom while a real man
takes care of me. Because you CAN'T stand it. I hope you cry. That
always gives me an extra good climax. Are you going to cry for me,
Wendy? Squeeze out some tears?" Her trembling husband sniffled and told
her, "I can't help it, Talia. Please. Just let me leave the room."
Talia laughed cruelly and assured him, "No way. That is NOT going to
happen. Now reach under your cute top and play with your girly nipples,
Wendy. Let's see if you can get a hard on while you watch Mack and his
monster cock make me happy." Wendell did as he was told. He felt a
tingle in his crotch as he stimulated himself. This was a new an
particularly insulting humiliation. His wife never seemed to run out of
fresh ideas to disgrace him. And he guessed she never would.

******

CHAN'S WAY (inspired by the Art of Nimrod)

Carl's new Mother-in-Law insisted he call her Mistress Chan. A few days
after he married her lovely daughter, Lotus, she moved in and took over,
while the new bride went to stay with a girlfriend. Now the older woman
was shouting at him to come upstairs. He was in the basement, standing
at a workbench, with several pairs of her boots in front of him,
cleaning, polishing and buffing their sleek leather surfaces. Carl
stepped away from his labors. Moving was not easy. She had dressed him
in especially restrictive garments.

He had on a snug leather dress that covered him from the high collar that
chafed at his neck, all the way down to the tight hem that hugged his
ankles. It featured a corset waist, which she had tightened until he
felt like he was being cut in half. The interior of the garment was
rough and unfinished, so that it rubbed his bare skin uncomfortably. He
was hot and could feel droplets of sweat running down the middle of his
back and between his bottom cheeks. Worse, she had made him wear high
heels that were two sizes too small, which pinched his feet painfully.

But he had to respond when she called. The cruel woman had beaten his
backside with a bamboo cane before she put him into the dress. He
certainly didn't want to incur another punishment like that. Or
something worse. So Carl, taking tiny steps, with the dress rubbing
against his already irritated flesh, moved toward the steps. There was a
small round hole cut into the front of the dress, through which his
flaccid penis protruded. He couldn't even call out to tell her he was on
his way, because she had stuffed a ball gag into his mouth, one big
enough to keep his jaws jacked wide apart. He took each step carefully,
every movement costing him the maximum effort. At the same time, the
tall collar prevented him from looking down to see where his feet were.
She hollered again, saying, "Hurry up, useless slug. Move lazy ass
faster." His breath hissed from his nostrils and he moaned behind the
gag.

When he was at last a few steps from the top, he came into sight of the
mirror she had made him mount on the inside of the basement door.
Confronting him was his plump reddened face, eyes wide from exertion,
perspiration sheening his features. His hair had been shaved off, the
job done personally by his Mother-in-Law. She had left a tassel on top,
which had been dyed bright yellow and was now pulled up and held that way
by two little red bows, one above the other. If that didn't make him
look foolish and unmanly enough, she had also applied generous amounts of
cosmetics. His eyes were lined by black, the lids tinted blue. His
eyebrows had been shaved and replaced by high arches painted on his
forehead. There were bright pink circles of rouge on his cheeks. Most
upsetting to him, she had drawn a large cupid's bow around his mouth and
filled it in with garishly bright magenta lipstick, which was then
covered with a coating of shiny clear gloss.

He continued on, tottering slightly on the heels, his calves sore from
the strain they caused. At last he reached her. She was lounging in the
recliner that had formerly been his exclusively. Now he wasn't even
allowed to lean on it. Mistress Chan was a matronly figure, her hair
piled high and held in place with some stiff preparation. She wore make-
up only a bit more subtle than his own. Her busty upper body was tightly
encased in a faux-leopard blouse, below which her waist was clutched by a
wide, black leather belt. Below that, her flaring hips and full thighs
were squeezed into a red leather skirt that ended above her knees. He
couldn't keep from looking hungrily at her calves, covered by smoky
stockings, and her feet, shod in crimson heels that he had buffed early
that morning while she was still asleep. As he gazed at her his exposed
member began to harden. He couldn't help it. Because his bride had
denied him sex and his Mother-in-Law had denied him any chance to gain
relief, he was acutely in need. His prick continued to rise until it was
at full stiffness.

She eyed it disapprovingly and said, "Filthy pig. It is not bad enough
that you lust for daughter, but now you crave mother." He wanted to deny
her words but could not. His interest in Chan had been growing daily.
She pantomimed spitting at his crotch, even making a disgusted sound
effect. He cringed. She set her jaw and gave him a threatening look.
He realized belatedly what she wanted, and began to bow, going as low as
the dress would permit. After a half dozen uncomfortable efforts he
stopped and waited to learn why she had summoned him. Chan rose from the
chair and stood close enough for him to inhale the strong inexpensive
scent she wore. The haughty woman said, "My friends are coming. You
will serve us tea and cookies. You will show great respect." She went
to the sofa and picked up something that was lying there. It was a
small, frilly white apron, which she promptly tied around his waist, all
the while muttering darkly. Then she took a little lace cap that had
been alongside it and fitted it on his shaved head. It stayed in place
and was low enough that the embarrassing length of hair still showed
above it.

Carl was horrified that other women were going to see him that way. He
felt burning shame whenever he was dressed in feminine outfits, which was
frequently. Chan made him do housework every day, always presiding over
him with some instrument of discipline. Now she took one of her riding
crops from a hook on the wall and brandished it menacingly. She smacked
his posterior and, though the leather absorbed some of the force, his
buttocks were so tender from their recent caning that he still flinched
and grimaced. She smiled as she herded him toward the kitchen. When
they got there he had to take a three-tiered serving plate from a low
cabinet, the effort of bending down making him struggle for breath. Then
he had to reach into a tall cabinet to get the box of cookies. As he
began to arrange them on the tiers, under Chan's critical inspection, she
casually lit a cigarette and inserted it into a long ebony holder. She
disrespectfully blew smoke into his face.

When the cookies were all in place, he made tea and put cups onto a
serving tray. Chan huffed disapprovingly at his efforts. No matter what
he did, she invariably found fault. But there wasn't much time, so she
didn't inflict any added punishment. After the preparations were done
she had him don leather gloves that buttoned to the sleeves of his dress.
They were stiff and made it hard for him to flex his fingers. The
doorbell rang and she barked at him to answer it. "Move, mindless cow."
He did his best, the dress continuing to torment him. Waiting
impatiently outside the door were three of Chan's friends, all from her
homeland, all looking much like her. They wore flashy outfits and cheap
showy jewelry. Carl had to bow to each one as they sneered and flung
insults while passing by. He followed them wordlessly, in abject
humiliation. To have them look at him, dressed the way he was, robbed of
all power, but with that ******** erection on display, was the depths of
degradation for him. He blinked back tears of disgrace as they seated
themselves around the den. Chan snapped her fingers and told him, "Bring
cookies, useless lump of fat." He bowed again as he backed out of the
room, afraid that he would lose his balance.

As he returned with the cookies they were chatting, and ignored him like
he wasn't even there. He went from one to the next, offering the snacks,
which they took and set on paper napkins atop their thick thighs. His
penis twitched as he moved to each of them. After that he had to perform
the same way with the tea, pushing the pot and tray of cups on a wheeled
cart. The women clucked at his slowness, even though it was the fault of
his shoes, that constricting dress, and especially the hampering gloves.
At last it was done and he moved the cart and himself to an inconspicuous
spot in the corner. They gabbed for a while and then one of them
declared, "Your slave-maid smells like sweat. I have something to fix
that." Chan snarled at Carl, "Hai! Go to her, stinking one." With
trepidation he put himself in front of the woman indicated. She rummaged
in her oversized fashion bag and came out with a spray bottle of perfume.
She made him bend low so she could apply it. It was pineapple scented,
overbearingly strong, and she used it liberally, so that he ended up
reeking of the fruity stuff. Now he felt even less like a man. They
laughed at him and made jokes in their own language, which he didn't
understand a word of. His legs started trembling.

Another of the women declared that she had a 'gift' for him too. It
proved to be a nose ring, which she clipped shut with a half in each
nostril, it's points jabbing into his septum. He groaned behind his ball
gag and tried not to let his pain show too much, lest his weakness
inspire them to punish him. The last woman grinned devilishly as she
announced that she also had something to give him. It was a small bell
on a fine chain, which she attached to the ring in his nose. The bell
hung just below his chin and tinkled whenever he moved. Chan made him
hobble around, cleaning up crumbs with a tiny brush and dustpan she
provided. He was absolutely humiliated to have to perform that way, like
the lowest menial, while being seen by those females. His discomfort was
constant, so that each time he took a step or bent down he grunted,
groaned, sniffled and inhaled noisily through his nose. Poor Carl wasn't
given a moment's rest and the women spat insults at him the entire time.
"Hopeless wretch." "Feeble insect."

Three hours later the afternoon drew to a close. On shaky legs, Carl
went and opened the door for the visitors, bowing low as each one
departed. His shame had not abated. If anything, it had increased. He
felt utterly broken and feared that he would never recover even a portion
of his lost self-image. Chan sneered at him and announced, "Perhaps now
you will be acceptable to my daughter. If not, there will be many more
gatherings like this one. Understand, useless-piece of offal?" He
nodded, desperate not to incite her wrath. She went on, "She will return
soon. Two weeks. Maybe three." That long? Being feminized and
demeaned the whole time? He didn't know how he would endure it. Carl
would have to do exactly as his Mother-in-Law said or suffer further
indignities and punishments. That was Chan's way.











http://www.*****.org/files/Collections/Old_Joe%27s_Collection/TG/Femdom/Surprise%20Vacation.txt



The Surprise Vacation



by an unknown author and Tristmegistus

1. Chapter - Innocent Beginnings

"Did you take your vitamin, dear?" Ellen called from the bathroom.

I rubbed sleep from my eyes and picked up the pill bottle, rolling a big
tablet into my palm. "My horse pill? I'm doing it now."

"Have you noticed any difference yet?"

"Nah. Vitamins are pretty much all alike." She'd gone on a minor health
kick a month before, insisting that I needed to lose a little weight and
take better care of myself. I hadn't actually made it to the gym to work
out like she was though.

"Where's my underwear honey?" I asked my wife, poking through my almost
empty drawer. It was Saturday morning. I had noticed that my underwear
had been disappearing from my drawer over the last couple of weeks. I
thought nothing of it, figuring that she'd simply been too busy to do
laundry.

"Something went wrong with the washing machine and it ruined everything
in the last load," she said.

"Well, what am I going to wear?"

She emerged from the bathroom, dipped into her side of the dresser.
"Here, put these on," she smiled, handing me a pair of her pink satin
panties. "Now don't give me any fake macho bullshit. I know you love
wearing my panties. In fact, I know you've secretly worn this very pair
before."

I looked at her dumfounded. I thought that I'd successfully hidden my
fetish from her. I'd been so careful.

"C'mon, let's put these on you,"she teased. I was beet red as I numbly
stepped into them and let her pull them up to my hips. She stroked my cock
through the fabric, a lot like I often did. "Mmmm, I see that someone
finds this exiting. We may have to keep it like that." I wasn't sure what
she meant by that remark, but was too embarrassed to ask. I hurriedly put
the rest of my clothes on, jeans and a T-shirt. She gave me a slightly
disapproving look and said, "Well, I need take you shopping and get some
new underwear for you, among other things."

I said, "Can't you just pick up some for me? I want to look at that
washing machine and watch the football game."

Since she absolutely despises football, this would normally have set her
off on a tirade, but surprisingly, she just smiled sweetly and said, "Don't
worry about the washer. I fixed it myself. Go ahead and enjoy your
football honey. I'll get everything you need."

So while she was shopping, I lay on the couch stroking myself through
the panties, embarrassed that my wife knew of my fetish, but relieved that
she seemed so low key about it. The game turned out to be pretty boring
and I thought about raiding her closet for something else to wear, but now
that she knew, I couldn't bring myself to do it. Instead, I ended up
taking a nap. I woke up when she came home, loaded with bags from various
stores. I started to get up to help.

"Just stay there, I'll put everything away. What do you say that we go
out for dinner?"

"That sounds like a good idea."

"Great. But first, I have a surprise for you. Stand up and close your
eyes." I remembered that teasing look, that flirtatious tone. We hadn't
played sex games in a long time. In fact, we hadn't done anything sexual
in a long time. With a smile, I stood and did as she asked. The next
thing I knew, she pulled my hands behind my back and locked them with a
pair of handcuffs!

"What's this all about?"

"No comments from the peanut gallery," she said as she put some sort of
gag in my mouth.

Whatever it was filled up my whole mouth, all the way to the top of my
throat! As I explored it with my tongue, I realized that it was a penis
gag. What was going on?

"Now come along peacefully, or I'll have to take further steps." With
that I followed her into the bathroom. She took my hands and tied a strap
to them and pulled it up to the shower curtain, forcing me to bend over at
the waist. She then took a pair of scissors and proceeded to cut my
clothes off, ruining jeans I could have just stepped out of. It was all
pretty kinky, even for Ellen's sometimes bizarre moods, but except for the
embarrassment of having something shaped like a penis in my mouth, it
seemed harmless.

"You won't be needing those anymore," she said, tossing the rags that
had been my jeans and tee-shirt down the laundry chute.

She then took some shaving cream and a razor and proceeded to shave
every bit of hair below my eyebrows. I definitely didn't like the turn
things were taking, but fighting her while she stroked my most private
parts didn't seem like a good idea - and there wasn't a whole lot I

could do about it, anyway.

"I think that since you like wearing panties so much, you should have
the experience of everything else that goes along with it," she explained
as she worked over my underarms. "You'll find that all of your old clothes
have been replaced with something more suitable for your new station. I
think that about does it. Step in the shower and let's rinse you off."

There was nothing I could do except slide the strap down the bar and
step under the water. I was bewildered. Surely she hadn't really thrown
out all my clothes! As she rinsed all of the hairy soap off of my body, my
skin felt strange, tingly and oddly alive. She spent more time on my
weirdly naked penis, making it swell again. She patted me dry all over
with a big, soft towel and spread skin conditioner all over me, dwelling on
my semi-hard penis.

"Well that looks much better, but we'll have to do something about your
figure. That waistline will never do. You haven't been losing enough
weight, darling. Follow me and we'll take care of it."

As we walked into the bedroom, I saw some clothes laid out on the bed.
There was a corset, panties, stockings, and a short dress. She began to
put the corset on me, and said, "Your arms are in the way." With that, she
reached into one of the bags and pulled out a leather collar. She then put
some leather cuffs on my wrists, unlocked the metal ones, and quickly
hooked my hands behind my head to the collar.

This was starting to get too weird. Our sex games had died out a year
or so before. I'd known she was curious about bondage and stuff, but had
laid down the law and said no. I tried to talk around the thing in my
mouth, but she ignored me. I was able to offer only token

resistance as my arms were asleep and numb from being pulled up and back
for so long. Next, she started hooking up the corset and pulling the laces
in behind me. Soon I couldn't breathe and still she was tightening the
laces.

"Is that uncomfortable? Too bad. It'll give you incentive to lose that
extra weight you've been ignoring, won't it?" With a final savage jerk, she
finished adjusting the laces with a full ****. "I think you'll have an
interesting time trying to untie that by yourself."

I silently agreed. It was more like being in a straight jacket than
lingerie. But there was an illicit thrill to it, despite my deepening
worry that she was going way too far with her fun.

"Now let's put some panties on you. Which pair would you like? You
don't care? That's no way for a lady to show interest in her appearance. I
guess we'll try this new pair of pink satin ones I bought you. Now you
don't have to steal mine, love. Oh, my! You really look cute in them."

Next came a set of latex breast forms which she teasingly placed in the
corset's half cups to fill out my chest. After that she rolled some
stockings up each leg, hooked them to the garters on the corset, and
smoothed them out. She quickly admired her work while I tried not to, too
embarrassed for words, even if the gag hadn't been in my mouth.

"Let's see how this dress I picked out for you fits." With that she
picked up a shimmery peach colored dress and worked it over the tangle of
my head and arms. As it fell over my breasts and hips it came down to only
mid-thigh.

She looked at me with a grin on her face and said, "Don't you look
adorable! You'll have to be very careful and ladylike when you sit or bend
over or the world will see your garters and panties. Only a slut would act
like that. If you act like a slut, I'll have to treat you like one."

What did she mean by 'the world will see you?' I didn't like the
implications in that statement.

"Step into these shoes," she said with the air of command, as she placed
a pair of matching peach shoes with about a 3-1/2 in heel on the floor.

I'd rarely dared to play with her high heels. They were a little too
tight, but the real reason I usually avoided them was because they awoke in
me a shame powerful enough to counterbalance the excitement of cross
dressing. I found it was tremendously difficult to keep my balance with my
hands fastened behind my neck.

"Now it's time for your makeup. I'm going to remove the gag, but I
don't want to hear a single word or I'll put it back in and leave it there
for a whole day." Ellen gave me a look that indicated she clearly meant it.

Well, I figured, we've gone this far, so why fight it. Besides,
cosmetics were another thing I'd never had the guts to try, and I'd often
fantasized about how I'd look. She spent the next thirty minutes
completing my makeup, going through foundation, eyeshadow, eyeliner, and
mascara, adding a light blush, and finishing with a bright, deep rose
lipstick. She topped it off with a light brown shoulder length wig.

"Now you can look at yourself," she said as she led me to a mirror.

I couldn't believe it! A beautiful girl looked back at me. If she was
alone in a bar, every guy in there would hit on her. The dress had a
scooped front almost to my breast forms, which were ample. It also showed
a very flattering figure. No wonder I couldn't breathe. Looking at the
reflection in the mirror, the hemline seemed even shorter, at least six
inches above my knees.

I heard a soft "click." I turned around, and my wife was taking pictures
of me!

"You can't admire yourself all day, sweetie. We've got a busy afternoon
and evening ahead of us."

My heart sank. She was really going to force me to go out dressed like
this! I started to speak, wanting to talk her out of it, but she picked up
the cock-shaped gag and moved ominously toward me. I shut up. With that,
my wife changed into a plain dress and fluffed her hair, not even bothering
to use any makeup on herself, which was unusual. She noted my confusion
and said, "I don't want to steal any of the attention you deserve, honey."

She clipped a leash to my collar and led me to the garage. As she
opened the passenger door, I began to fight her. "Honey what are you
trying to -"

She pushed me off balance, which wasn't hard, and stuffed the gag back
in my mouth, immediately strapped it behind my head. "I warned you! Now
you'll have to pay the price for disobedience!" She pushed me again and I
fell into the passenger seat. She buckled the seat belt.

Bound as I was, with my hands behind my head, there was no way I could
do anything but go along.

As she drove us away, she said, "I know you're dying of curiosity,
sweetie, wondering what this is all about. It's simple really. I noticed
about six months ago that my clothes and lingerie had been rearranged
almost every time you're home and I'm not. I started carefully marking my
hangers and drawers to confirm my suspicions, and I can name every time you
snuck into something sexy and even tell you what you wore. Really, I don't
mind, honey. In fact, it really turns me on. So I'm going to make sure
that you live your fantasy to the fullest. It's really perfect, because MY
fantasy is to dominate my husband completely and I'm going to act that out,
too."

I couldn't believe it! She must have caught on almost the very first
time I gave in to the impulse to see if silky feminine clothes felt as
wonderful as they looked. Well, the first time since I was a k**, anyway.

"I've arranged for you to take a two week surprise vacation starting
Monday. Your boss thinks that we're going on a cruise." She giggled. "In
a way, we are, aren't we? For the next two weeks, you're going to live
entirely as a female and follow my every command. If you give me

any shit at all, I'll send those pictures of you admiring yourself to
your boss and secretary. I think they'd get a good laugh from them, don't
you? To get you ready for our little adventure, we're going to the mall to
do some shopping for your vacation."

I kept hoping it was all a joke. That any moment she'd turn the car
around, laughing at how she'd scared me, and we'd play for a while in bed,
then it'd be over. But my guts were cold. I couldn't talk myself into
believing it'd happen that way. I knew she was dead serious. As we pulled
into the mall parking lot she said, "In case you're having any thoughts
about running away, remember that you don't have any car keys, wallet or
money. If you don't do exactly as I say, I'll leave you here to get back
on your own."

She was right! Trying to get home without her, dressed like this,
wasn't an option. I couldn't even think of hitchhiking. Cold sweat popped
out on my brow as I realized that I was stuck. I had to do what she said.
I didn't even want to think of what her plans were.

2. Chapter - The Mall

I was terrified. There I was, tied into my car seat, dressed as a woman
from high heels to wig, with my wrists handcuffed to a leather collar
around my neck, for all the world to see. And my wife had driven me to the
shopping mall to shop for clothes to complete my wardrobe. I wanted to cry
out in frustration and terror, but there was a penis-shaped gag buried in
my throat. The excitement I'd felt at home was long gone.

After she stopped the car in the parking lot, she turned to me and
unlocked the collar, cuffs, and removed the gag from my mouth. "Now, can I
trust you to behave in here, or will I have to really embarrass you? And
by behave I mean do everything I say without question."

With a numb feeling in my stomach I said, "Yes honey, I'll be good."

"Wonderful! I know we're going to have a marvelous time."

With that, she made me fix the lipstick the gag had smeared, and showed
me how to powder my sweaty forehead. We got out of the car and walked into
the mall. The heels caused my hips to sway noticeably. I did my best to
minimize it.

She looked at me with a grin and said, "My, aren't we calling attention
to ourselves!" and laughed merrily. "Our first stop is at the beauty
parlor. We don't have that much time, so today we'll just touch up your
makeup and do your nails. Your hair can wait until tomorrow. I've already
made an appointment for you."

The voyage through the crowded mall was tremendously humiliating. I
kept waiting for someone to recognize me, or see through the disguise my
wife had applied and sneer at a man in a short dress and makeup. It was
almost a relief to near the beauty shop. While I didn't draw any

of the disgusted looks I was afraid of, I got way too much attention,
and the appreciative smiles were almost worse than mockery would have been.

We walked into the parlor, and she talked to the receptionist. "Hello.
I called earlier for a 'special appointment' for Sheila."

A pretty brunette overheard and approached. "Hi! I'm Cindy and
everything is ready. Follow me please." She led us past the filled
stations into a back room. "Please have a seat here." I looked at the
chair and then my wife with some misgivings.

"SIT DOWN! You heard what the lady said!" my wife commanded and shoved
me into the chair. Before I could recover, she pulled two velcro lined
straps out of her purse and quickly strapped my arms to the armrests,
rendering me completely helpless. "Now sit there quietly, or I'll have to
take further steps."

The stylist was trying, though not very hard, to cover a big smirk on
her face.

"Go ahead and start on her. I don't think she'll give you any trouble.
How long do you think this will take?"

"For everything you asked for, about an hour and a half."

"Good, I'll be back then. I've got some shopping to do. If she gives
you any trouble, feel free to take whatever action you think is
appropriate." She then walked out of the store, leaving me alone with the
stylist.

"You aren't going to make any trouble, are you?" she teased.

I shook my head no, not trusting my voice. Sounding like a man would've
been too embarrassing, and I'd feel like a fool if I tried a false woman's
voice.

"Too bad. I think I'd enjoy disciplining and humiliating you. You're
obviously into it. Maybe I should see if my boyfriend would look as good
as you do dressed up."

That definitely made me decide not to resist - as if I could have
anyway. I did my best to ignore her flattery, too. The last thing I wanted
to do was look too much like a woman.

"Debbie here is going to do your nails, and I'll be giving you a light
makeover. Your lady friend made a separate appointment for your hair for
tomorrow." She turned her attention to my face and began working me over as
Debbie began my nails.

Sixty minutes later, she was still working on my face, and Debbie had
mockingly told me to remove my hose so she could do my toenails. The bands
around my wrists made that impossible, of course, and I cringed as the girl
touched me and did it herself. I kept my eyes closed, unable to face the
changes being made to me. The worst part was having my eyebrows plucked
into shape. How could I hide that when the "vacation" was over?

"This is a 'light' makeover?" I wondered to Cindy in a safe whisper,
trying to joke. "How long does it take for a complete job?" I really
didn't want to know.

At that moment my wife walked in with a shopping bag. "How are we
coming? Oh, she looks just darling!" she said as she grinned at me. She
then bent over and admired my bright red toenails. Confirming that Debbie
was finished, she rolled my hose part way up and began digging

through a huge shopping bag.

"What are you doing, honey?" I asked in a meek, gender neutral voice.

"Oh, I didn't think that those shoes were flattering enough, so I
dropped into the Wild Pair to find you something prettier. I know you're
just dying to wear them, but with that corset on I don't imagine you can
bend over far enough to strap them on."

That was an understatement! While I'd gotten used to taking shallow
breaths in the corset, there was no way I could bend that far down. I
couldn't see what the shoes looked like from the angle I was sitting in the
chair, but I could tell they had a much higher heel than the other set.

"There!" Cindy announced proudly. "That about finishes you. How are
you coming, Debbie?"

"Just a few minutes to let the last coat dry." After about five very
uncomfortable minutes of listening to girl talk, she said, "That about does
it. Let's stand up and have a look at you."

My wife then removed the velcro straps, freeing me from the chair. I
stood up and almost fell. I looked down at my shoes. They were a pair of
cream ankle straps with at least a five inch heel. I could barely stand in
them. It was amazing what a difference an inch and a half made. I then
looked in the mirror, for the first time, and almost didn't recognize
myself. The person standing there was a short, truly beautiful, entirely
feminine woman staring back at me with wide,

shocked, expertly made up eyes! Her skin looked perfectly smooth and
her lips were strikingly highlighted. I reflexively raised my hands to my
face, not believing what I was seeing, and then noticed my nails. One full
inch long and a deep liquid red - exactly the color of my skillfully
painted lips and toes.

My wife smiled approvingly at me and said, "Don't they look lovely,
Sheila?"

"Y ... Yes," I stammered, too shocked to lie. "They're beautiful. I
can't believe it!"

As she paid Cindy and we turned to go, she said, "By the way, I asked
her to use a permanent set on the nails. You won't be able to remove
them."

I looked down at my hands in shock. How could you hide nails like that?
What would I do at the end of the two weeks? I knew enough about it to
realize that even if I cut them off, they'd be unnaturally thick.

"Let's go, Sheila, we've got plenty still to do. Now it's time for some
clothes shopping. With a gorgeous bod and sexy face like you have, we have
to get you some 'hot' outfits to match."

I slowly emerged from my state of shock, and wished I hadn't. I was
drawing even more attention now. The way men were staring at me left no
doubt as to their thoughts. I stayed as close to Ellen as I could as she
slowly toured store fronts.

Our first stop was "The Body Shop." My wife had me try on countless
outfits in the dressing room. It was sheer torture, climbing into and out
of one revealing outfit after another. I was horrified of being recognized
and arrested for this perversion. She ended up picking out a short black
leather skirt with matching bustier, and a white satin minidress with a
deeply scooped neckline. Then she made me pay for the items with my
American Express Card - with my real name on it! The sales clerk gave me a
shocked look and then a big smirk. My face turned beet red from
embarrassment. My slim hand shook as I tried to grip the pen and sign the
sales slip with my too long nails.

We went from store to store for about two more endless hours. I must
have tried on forty outfits and purchased at least a dozen. My ribs were
killing me from the constant pressure of the corset and my feet ached from
walking and standing in those incredible heels.

"Here we go. One last stop," my wife said as we turned into another
boutique. "Why don't you have a seat for a couple of minutes."

She didn't have to tell me twice. I was exhausted. I sat in the chair
she indicated, relieved to get a load off of my feet. I carefully smoothed
my hemline as I sat down (I'd learned this lesson the hard way through some
embarrassing comments and looks from other shoppers). I was so tired, I
didn't know what store I was in, and really didn't care. I let my eyes
close.

One of the clerks came up behind me and said, "Just sit still now."
There was a sudden, intense burning sensation in my right ear. My eyes
leapt open, and I tried to get up. She held my head firmly with one hand
and said, "Just a few seconds. Hold still." The sharp pain was

repeated in the other ear. She then rubbed both with some alcohol and
fiddled with each ear for a few seconds. "There, that does it. You can
get up now."

I stood up and looked in the mirror. She had pierced my ears and placed
a little gold ball in each of them! What would I do at the at the end of
two weeks? Those holes in my ears were going to take a long time to heal
over.

"Okay, that finishes us here. It's time for us to go home and get ready
to go out tonight."

With that, we walked back towards the car - slowly, because I was forced
to take such mincing steps in the tall shoes.

As we got into the car I turned and said, "Honey, this is ridiculous.
Look at my hands! I can't -"

She slapped me hard on the cheek, staggering me. She immediately pulled
out a pair of handcuffs, put them on me, and secured them behind me to the
headrest, making me completely helpless.

"I can see that you need a lesson to show you that I mean business.
When I'm finished with you, you're going to beg me to dress you up, take
you out, and make you look as pretty and sexy as possible! We both know
that you've secretly dreamed about this. Well it's happening and there's
not a damned thing you can do to stop it! The sooner you realize that
you're no longer in control of what happens to you, the happier you'll be!"

"But honey," I whined, "don't you think that this's a little -"

She rammed the gag back in my mouth. "What were you saying dear? I
didn't catch it? Oh well, I guess it wasn't very important."

We pulled away from the mall with me helpless in the passenger seat,
thankful that the tinted windows offered me a little protection from casual
observation.

As I began to look around me I realized that this was not the way home.
Where was she taking me now?

She noticed me squirming and looking around and said, "Don't know where
we're going? Well, as much as you deserve to be humiliated more in public,
that'll have to wait. I just have to pick something up."

My relief quickly turned to chagrin as we stopped and I looked at where
we were. It was a shop entitled "Exotic Leather Goods."

"I need to grab a few things to ensure that you learn your lesson
properly. Don't do anything naughty while I'm gone."

So there I was, tied into the passenger seat for any passers by to see,
trapped in a feminine appearance and clothing with an artificial penis
filling my mouth. Now that we'd stopped, the tinted windows weren't nearly
dark enough.

Suddenly, I saw a man approaching, walking towards the car. He was
casually looking at each of them as he passed by. Would he notice me
through the window? My heart was racing a mile a minute. Just as it
looked as if he would pass right by, he stopped and did a double take. HE
SAW ME! He stood there looking in the window for at least a full minute
with a big grin on his face while I tried to become invisible. Just about
that time my wife came up to the car with a bag in her hand.

"Enjoying the view?" she casually asked the man.

"Sure am, honey," he replied with a leer. "Do you always keep her tied
up like that?" He thought I was a real woman!

"She prefers it that way," my wife laughed. "She's my display model.
Feel free to look all you want, but don't touch."

The man kept up his lewd stare while Ellen loaded her purchases. He
waved gaily, still laughing, as he walked away. With that she got in
started the car. As she drove us home, she said, "I was planning to take
you out for a nice dinner and dancing tonight, but you obviously

don't deserve a reward like that yet. So, instead I'm going to teach
you a lesson in obedience. When I'm through with you, you'll beg me to
dress you up in sexy outfits so you can show off."

brother, was I in trouble. I was afraid to even think of what my
"lesson" would be. I was sure that it would not be pleasant, but I knew
there was no way she could make good on her promise that I'd want her to
expose me publicly.

Finally, we pulled into the garage. My wife leaned over and connected
my wrist cuffs to the collar. After that she disconnected my hands from
the headrest, giving me no chance to get free. She then reached into her
big purse, pulled out a leash, and connected it to the collar. Getting her
bag, my wife got out of the car and came around to my door. I still could
not move because I was strapped in by the seat belt. She unhooked it and
gave a tug on the leash.

"Come along now, Sheila," she ordered as we walked into the house. We
stopped in the kitchen.

"The first thing we need to work on is this tendency of yours to talk
back and question everything I say. After all, I can't keep that gag in
your mouth all the time. Unless, of course, you like the feel of something
shaped like a cock in your throat."

I shook my head violently.

"Well then, you need to show me that you can behave. Believe me, I hate
keeping that beautiful mouth of yours gagged all the time. There are so
many better uses for it."

Having said that she pulled what looked like a leather sleeve with some
laces running down the length out of the bag of things she'd just bought.
She then walked out of the room for a few seconds and returned with several
pieces of rope. She unlocked the wrist cuffs and had me

put my hands behind my back. She then secured them with the hands
facing.

Next, she picked up the sleeve and slid it up my arms, securing it with
some straps in front of my shoulder, guaranteeing that it would not come
off. Then she began tightening the laces, straightening my arms and
pulling my elbows together until they were about four inches apart.

It hurt like hell and forced me to pull my shoulders back and arch my
back to accommodate the position of my arms. My arms and shoulders began
to ache almost immediately.

"My, aren't you the brazen little slut!" she laughed as she looked at
me. I had to admit that the way my back was arched did throw out my chest,
emphasizing my big breasts. Next, she took a long length of rope, tied it
to a ring on the sleeve below my hands and ran it to a hook in the ceiling.
That ring! She'd had me put that in the ceiling last week to hold a heavy
planter. How long had she been planning this? A tug on the rope brought
me back to the present. As she pulled on the rope, it forced me to bend at
the waist while she pulled my arms towards the ceiling. Tying the rope off
onto a doorknob, she commented, "There, that should keep you. Comfy?"

Hardly! I was still in those ridiculous heels and this position forced
all of my weight onto my toes, which were already in agony. Adding to
this, the bent over position made the corset so tight that I was gasping
for breath in tiny pants. I felt like I was going to pass out.

The next thing I knew she was pulling my dress up over my waist,
exposing my pantied bottom. Then she pulled the panties down around my
ankles.

"Are you ready for your first punishment?"

I had no way to say no, of course.

She fumbled around in the bag. When I looked, she had pulled out a
leather paddle. There was no doubt what her intended target was. Bound as
I was, there was also not a single thing that I could do about it.

SMACK! She connected right on my bare ass with a stinging blow. "I
think that fifty good ones is about right for talking back to your
mistress, don't you?"

SMACK! She continued. After about twenty, I lost all control and was
crying like a baby. Each stroke seemed to sting more than the one before
it. Finally, she reached fifty. My entire behind felt like it was on
fire. She then pulled the panties up and pulled my hem down again.

"That was just your first punishment. I told you that you would never
forget this lesson. I'll be back in a little while. I'm going to take a
shower and rest a bit. My arms are tired. Don't go anywhere."

Her arms were tired! At my ass and thigh's expense! I stood there,
miserably bent over, dreading the next punishment, and wondering what it
would be.

3. Chapter - Punishment

I'm sure my wife was gone no more than an hour, but it felt like days. I
was trapped there, standing on my cramping toes in those tall high heels,
bent forward at the waist, exposing my swat-inflamed, pink pantied rear
under the hem of my short peach dress. My eyes burned

from sweat and tear-dissolved makeup that'd run into them while she
spanked me with the heavy leather paddle. I could barely breathe because
of the way I was tied and tight corset cinching my waist into nothingness.
There was nothing for me to do but suffer and ruminate on my situation.

I was trapped by more than my agonizing posture. She'd taken pictures
of me and threatened to give them to my boss and secretary if I gave her
any trouble for the next two weeks of my surprise vacation. She'd made me
watch her drop them off at a fifty-minute photo place at the

mall, and I was positive she had the prints hidden somewhere I'd never
find them. All because I'd secretly tried on her panties and a few other
clothes a couple of times! Okay, to tell the truth, it was more than a
couple of times. Now, she was determined to turn me into Sheila, a sexy
little crossdresser who'd beg to be allowed to go out dancing so she could
be seen and admired!

A dizzy wave of pain made me start crying again. I suddenly stiffened.
What if that wasn't all she wanted to make me do? What if she was trying
to do more than show off my cute ass and pouty red mouth? She'd already
called me 'slut' a couple of times. What if she meant it?

I almost fainted. I had to end this before it went any further. She'd
promised me still more punishment, and I didn't think I could take any
more. Maybe, if I acted the way she wanted, she'd relent. More
importantly, if I cooperated, there was sure to be a chance to catch her
off guard and escape before any real damage was done.

By the time I finally heard the door open, I was in such total agony
that thinking of ways to escape my feminization was the last thing on my
mind. I'd have done anything simply to be allowed to stand up straight. I
was dizzy from the unending struggle to breathe. My legs

were cramped into fiery pillars of pain. I tried to sob out around the
penis gag what was supposed to be her name.

"Well, well," she drawled from behind me, "don't you look sexy! How's
that nice little ass feel now, Sheila? Still hot and pink as your
panties?"

I heard her walking across the vinyl floor until she was right behind
me. Between my quivering legs, I saw that she'd changed into some shoes I'd
never seen before. The black high heels must have been six inches tall and
were tipped with narrow metal spikes. Her ankles were

covered in black mesh hose. I jumped when I felt her hand on my ass,
then tried to stand very still for whatever she was going to do. She
petted me between my cheeks.

"Is it too tender, darling? Oh, dear. It's hard to answer me with that
nasty gag in your mouth, isn't it?"

I nodded frantically.

"Will you be a good girl if I take it out?"

I nodded so hard that time that I almost dislocated my shoulders.

I gasped the instant the thing slid out of my dried lips. I wanted to
scream at her to turn me loose. Instead, I croaked out, "Thank you."

"Why you're quite welcome, dear. Would you like to stand up?"

"Please!" My voice shook wildly.

"One little thing, and I'll loosen the rope." I heard her dig through
the bag of things she'd bought and wondered what my next torture was. She
tugged my panties down and ran a finger lubricated with something cold and
slick over my exposed asshole. Then, she eased the finger

From: nostrumo@nienor.IN-Berlin.DE (Nostrumo)

Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.tg

Subject: Repost TG: The Surprise Vacation by an unknown author and
Tristmegistus (2/6)

2
_The_Surprise_Vacation_______________by_an_unknown_author_and_Tristmegistus
_

inside me. It hurt like hell, but what could I do? If I screamed or
protested, she'd do it anyway and leave me tied in this bent forward
position - or something worse. I gritted my teeth and endured as best as I
could.

She wiggled the finger inside me and ran it in and out a couple of
times. Cold sweat again popped out all over me, but there was a strange
heat, also. When she pulled her hand away, I thought she was finished.
Then I felt something cold and hard being pressed into me,

something much fatter than a finger. It spread me so wide I thought I
was going to have to scream, then narrowed, letting my sphincter muscle
clamp around it.

"Very good, honey. In case you're wondering, that's your very own butt
plug. I'm sure it's painful, but you'll get used to it. I expect you to
wear it at all times unless I tell you otherwise. Is that clear?"

I nodded jerkily.

"Say it!"

"Yes," I choked out. "I understand."

When she unhooked the rope from the doorknob and let me stand, I
staggered and almost collapsed. Even the tiny breathing space the tight
corset gave me felt wonderful. I gasped as deep lungfuls of air as I
could. I barely noticed her loosening the long leather sleeve laced up my
arms, locking my elbows together, but I was sure aware of the added freedom
and the lessening torture.

She had to help me to a chair, holding me by my wrists, still cuffed
behind my back. I hissed when I sat, both from tender ass cheeks and the
suddenly more noticeable discomfort of the thing buried in my ass.

Until then, I hadn't looked at her, and what I saw shocked and
frightened me. She looked nothing at all like my wife! She was wearing a
shiny, form-fitting black latex bodysuit that looked

something like wildly cut one piece swimwear. There was a seam down the
middle decorated with silver studs. The outfit made her nipples stand out
and was buried in the valley between her pussy lips. The stiletto heels
made her much taller than I was, even in the five inch heels I wore. Her
eyes were made up in a way that reminded me of Cleopatra, with immense
lashes and eyeliner and silver eye shadow drawn out almost to her temples.
Her lips were a deep, deep red that made

her teeth look too white. "Oh dear, you look terrible! Have you been
ruining your makeup by crying?"

I nodded, shocked by her appearance. I heard myself whine, "It hurt."

"It was supposed to," she said like she was explaining something obvious
to a c***d. "And that was nothing compared to what I'll do if you start
misbehaving again." She tied my bound wrists to the chair and brought me
some water. I sipped thirstily until I noticed how badly I had to pee.
It'd been a long time since I'd used the toilet. And about then the blood
flowing through my arms began to tingle, then burn, hurting almost as badly
as being tied had.

"It'll pass," she said with a grin.

"Can I use the bathroom? Please?"

"Soon. But first we've got to get you looking pretty again. Do you
know how much the makeover you ruined cost?"

So she led me back to the bedroom. I couldn't help noticing how the
butt plug made me walk even more enticingly than I had merely in the high
heels. Was there no end to my humiliation? I had to endure another
eternal thirty minutes at her vanity before I was allowed to pee - sitting
down, of course, with my wife standing there impatiently. I couldn't help
but sigh my relief as yet more room was made for me to breathe. As I stood
for her to pull my panties up, I was amazed that I felt almost comfortable
in the corset and heels.

"Such a sexy smile," she observed, tucking my penis back between my
legs. Her fingers lingered there. Her incredibly lush, wet lips hovered
inches from mine, and I felt myself begin to harden in her hand. "Do you
feel good, love?"

"A little," I confessed, reminding myself that I had to go along with
her mad game.

"Don't you feel pretty?"

"Kind of."

"Pretty enough to go out to dinner now?"

I blushed. "I'm awfully tired. Can we do that another time?" My penis
was at full erection by then, and she was showing no sign of stopping.

"But you would if I insisted?"

My hips rocked in time with her caress under my short skirt. "I'd have
to. I know what'd happen if I tried to fight you."

"Oh, no you don't," she whispered into my face. "It'd be a hundred
times worse than you can imagine, Sheila. Trust me on that. You don't
want to ever do anything that'd make me angry. Never again. Understand?"

I nodded, feeling her stroking hand more clearly than I heard her soft
words. The way she was rubbing me through the silky material of the
panties was driving me wild. I parted my lips, leaning forward to kiss
her. She quickly pulled away and squeezed my balls with enough force to
make me feel nauseated.

"Ah, ah! None of that, darling. I'll not have you smearing that pretty
lipstick of yours until I tell you to. Is my baby getting all hot? Her
sweet clittie's swollen so big. Would she like me to make her cum?"

"Yes," I whispered. "Please."

"You'd cum in your panties and then sleep in them?"

"Yes. I don't care. Just -"

"You'd lick and suck my pussy until I told you to stop, and then cum in
them for me?"

Oral sex had always disgusted me. "Yes! Anything you want!"

She dropped her hand and took me back to the bedroom, pushing me to my
knees beside the bed. She quickly opened a velcro closure hidden under the
metal studs of the bodysuit and peeled away a strip of fabric that'd
covered her groin. She straddled my head and sat on the edge of

the mattress. I stared in shock between her legs. She'd shaved her
pussy sometime in the week or more since we'd last made love. Her
pinkish-brown labia shone with moisture.

"Kiss those lips, Sheila. French kiss that mouth, you little slut.
Tongue fuck it like you mean it and maybe I'll let you cum."

I was repelled by the thought, but knew it was my only way to get
gratification, and that resistance would mean real trouble. I made myself
lean forward and hesitantly lap at her.

"No!" she yelled, grabbing me by my wig and slamming my face into her,
humping my nose with her hips. "Do it, you fag slut, or we'll go out and
pick somebody up to fuck YOU!"

I did it with every bit of energy I could summon. Little by little, my
disgust faded. I was turning her on! Her thrusts and approving curses
were heartfelt. I'd never heard her even half so aroused when we made love
normally. My penis strained inside the tight panties as I eagerly

wallowed between her legs, licking and sucking wherever she told me to
and going fast or slow according to her commands.

When she orgasmed, I thought she was going to smother me. She screamed
and her legs clamped around me like steel bands, trapping both my mouth and
nose. Her pussy twitched around my tongue and my nose nuzzled her clit.
Just as I started seeing black dots dancing in front of my eyes, she spread
her legs and I came up gasping for air.

I felt right on the edge of cumming myself. I looked down and saw that
the hem of my hose clad legs were spread wide. My dress had slid up high
enough to show the garters and the panties beneath. My cock was still
almost invisible, pointing toward my butt. It looked like I had a girl's
middle, and I was so turned on I was about to die! I'd never wanted to cum
so bad in my whole life, and I couldn't reach out to jack off. I tried to
pull my legs together, hoping that maybe I could rub my thighs together and
get off that way. It didn't work.

I heard my wife laugh. "Would my horny baby like to cum in her panties
now? Would she like to rub her clit with those sexy hands for me?"

I saw that she was laying back on the bed, staring down at me from
between her legs. She was stroking her clit, just like her words were
describing.

"Would you like me to fix your nasty mouth so you can be pretty for me,
and jack off for me like a dirty little slut?"

"Yes! Oh, god, please!"

When she helped me up, she didn't have to tell me to lay down on the
bed. I did it on my own. She spread my legs and snapped handcuffs attached
to the bedframe around my ankles. Then she freed my hands from behind my
back, clicking the left wrist to the bed over my head. The right one she
set free.

"Now do it slow, Sheila. You can't cum until I tell you to."

I was almost oblivious by then. My hand felt clumsy after being
imprisoned for so long, but it flew straight to my middle. She slapped it
away and pinned my arm under her weight.

"Listen to me, cunt! Unless you do it MY way, you don't get to do it at
all! Now just lay there until I say so!"

I panted while she swayed to the vanity to bring what she needed to
repair my face again. I begged her to hurry. Her hand lightly tickled my
painful balls and I cooperated to the max, holding my mouth open like I was
hungry for the lipstick, turning my head this way and that

so she could powder my cheeks and chin to her satisfaction.

"God, you're a sexy whore, Sheila! Now do exactly as I say. First,
lift your skirt out of the way. Now scratch the length of your clit with
those nasty red fingernails!"

The sc**** of my long nails through the silk almost made me shoot off
right then. I dimly heard the click of the shutter as she took more
pictures, but there was nothing I could do about it. I knew I was angling
my hips up provocatively, but I had to in order to reach myself.

"Feel good, honey? I wish you could see how sexy you are," she cooed.
"Now stick your hand inside the panties and rub it, just a little."

The thrill was electrifying! It took every bit of willpower I owned not
to jerk it just the once it'd take to send me over. But my wife's ominous
warning rang in my ears. I may have whined, but I didn't cum.

"Perfect baby! Now push your panties down under your balls. I want to
see it. I want to watch that pretty hand make you shoot cum up in the air.
NO! NOT YET! I want you to just hold it for a second, just squeeze it.
Feel how good it feels."

I was dying. My ears were ringing and my whole body was stiff. I was
panting like a dog. "Please! Please," I howled.

"Tell me your name, slut! Tell me who you are and I'll let you cum!"

"Sheila," I shrieked. "I'm Sheila!"

"And you just love looking sexy, don't you!"

"Yes! Yes!"

"Beg me to take you dancing tomorrow night!"

"Please take me out! Anywhere you want!"

"Do you want to show off? Do you want to wear that nasty black
minidress and tall heels and bright make up? Show everybody what a hot
little slut you are?"

"Yes! I'll do it!"

"Do you WANT to do it?"

"Yes! Yes! I want to be a slut and let everybody see me!"

"Then cum for me, Sheila! Rub your fat clit and cum!"

The explosion ripped through me like lightning. My first blast of sperm
must have shot two feet in the air. There were many more spurts to follow,
and my flying hand was slick with it long before I was finished. I
collapsed onto the mattress, weak as a baby.

She touched my shrinking penis, and I gasped. It was so sensitive I
couldn't stand it. I heard her low chuckle, but she relented and lifted
her hand. She brushed my lips with her fingers, and I

automatically kissed them, tasting something salty and sticky.

My drowsy eyes sprang open. It was my cum! I jerked my head away.

Her voice was a frightening growl. "Do you really want to make me
angry, Sheila? Do you really want to resist me? Are you ready for a hot,
long dick to slide up your asshole?"

My eyes threatened to overflow. "No," I whispered.

"Then lick every drop of cum from my fingers like a good slut."

More humiliated than I'd been while giving the clerks my charge card, or
even having the man leer at me through the car windows, I did what she
demanded. She scooped every last bit of sperm off my dress and slack penis
and made me swallow it. Finally, after I'd licked my own

hand clean, she was satisfied.

After she'd made me change into a red teddy, she chained me to the foot
of the bed and made me sleep on a blanket on the floor. She'd loosened my
girdle a little, but made me sleep in make up and the wig. The butt plug
was still there, too. She fed me a can of diet milkshake and a

tiny salad.

"You need to get used to being this way, Sheila. And this IS the way
you're going to be for the next two weeks. Maybe longer, if you give me
any trouble. I can't wait to get our next photos back. They'll show
anybody who sees them just how much you love living this way."

The renewed threat to give them to my boss cowed me even further. I'd
never been so miserable in my life. She'd reminded me, as she handcuffed
me to the bedframe, of what she'd said earlier.

"I told you, Sheila. I knew you didn't believe me then, but now you
know. I made you beg me to go out and flaunt your slutty body, just like I
said I would."

I cried as quietly as I could in the darkness. Somehow, some way, I HAD
to get out of this!

4. Chapter - Adjustments

I woke up stiff and sore, with the thing in my ass hurting like hell.
That and being on the floor were instant reminders of everything that'd
happened. I tried a deep breath but was stopped by the corset. I had to
sweep the wig's hair out of my mouth. My fingernails startled me so

much that my handcuffs clinked on the bed.

The mattress moved and my wife's sleepy face peered down at me. "Good
morning, Sheila? Did you sleep okay?"

A bitter retort was on my lips when I saw her face turn hard. I
swallowed my protest. "Um, it was okay."

She looked pleased. "That's the spirit, darling! What a good girl
you're being! Just for that, I'll let you go to the bathroom alone."

I tried to hide the hope surging through me by looking down at the floor
and thanking her. My heart was pounding. She dashed it by holding up a
pair cuffs with a short length of chain between them. She clicked them
around my ankles before unlocking me from the bed, and

made me put on the five inch heels. I had to take short mincing steps.
Even if I could get away from her, where could I go in a corset and teddy
with shackles on my legs? Seeing my dismay, she laughed heartily as I
walked delicately from the room.

I hated seeing myself in the mirror. There was still sleep worn
lipstick on my mouth, eyeliner around my eyes, and flakes of mascara all
over my cheeks. The brown wig was a tangled mop. Under the teddy I was as
hairless as my wife, and the corset showing through the lacy lingerie
showed a shape as nice as hers, too. I could barely see a man beneath all
that. The haggard woman in the mirror looked familiar, like my twin sister
might have if I had one.

I felt foolish standing to pee, having to hold the red teddy out of the
way, but I was damned if I'd squat unless I had to. The long red
fingernails embarrassed me as they touched my heavy morning cock. I had to
look away as I did my business.

I tried to think. I could take a razor out with me to use as a weapon -
but they were all the disposable kind and wouldn't work. Not that I could
really hurt her, not even for this. But maybe I could convince her I meant
business. To my dismay, there were no scissors, no nothing. Every
conceivable weapon had been taken away. I almost cried in frustration, and
managed not to only by reminding myself how feminine a reaction that'd be.

I pulled myself together. There'd be another time, other chances, if I
played my cards right. Hating what I had to do, I tugged a brush through
the wig and rinsed my face and mouth. I tried a practice smile, but it was
too scary. I had to stay away from mirrors.

She arched an eyebrow when I traipsed back out with as much enthusiasm
as I could find. "Why you little darling! You cleaned up for me!"

"Would you like me to bring you coffee in bed?" I asked her remembering
to speak softly in as feminine a voice as I could muster.

"What? And leave you in the kitchen with all those sharp things?
Honey, you might hurt yourself."

Obviously, she knew I'd try something and wasn't going to give me the
opening I needed. I choked back a burst of rage. "I'd be very careful."

"I'm sure you would, darling. But not this time. Sit down there and
get started on your face, my little cum lover. I'll make the coffee."

She cuffed my legs to the back legs of the vanity's chair and roped my
chest tightly to the back. I might be able to reach the ****, I thought.

"Now do a good job, honey. I want you to look pretty. Remember, we've
got an appointment to get your hair done this afternoon."

"But I can't!" I protested. "I don't know how!"

"Come darling," she warned as she turned away. "You've watched me
hundreds of time, and Cindy and I showed you exactly how it needs to be
done. Do it and do it right, or else!"

The moment she was out of sight, I tried the ****. It was tight, and I
could get no leverage because of the angle of my wrists. I fumbled with it
anyway, desperately, but to no avail. Again tears threatened me. This
time I couldn't hold them off. Once I started, I couldn't stop.

I'd never felt anything like that in my life. I was terrified and
helpless. She was outsmarting me at every turn. I was horrified - she was
winning! She WAS going to be able to make me do whatever she demanded, no
matter how sick or twisted. I was never going to be able to resist her. I
was still crying when she came back fifteen minutes later. Her deep scowl
made me try harder to dam the flood.

"You haven't even started!" she accused angrily.

"I ... I ..." I stammered hopelessly.

"You worthless little bitch! That does it!" She stormed toward me.
There was no way to flee from her. I covered my face with my arms and
sobbed anew. But she didn't go for my face. Her slap landed squarely
between my legs. I doubled up with a sick groan. She wrenched one arm

behind my back and twisted. A cold cuff went around my wrist.

"Give me the other arm!"

I did.

"Why you thankless bitch! You broke a nail messing with that ****,
trying to get away! Oh, you'll pay for that, too!" She jerked me to my
feet by my arms, causing me to yell in pain. She dragged me into the
bathroom and pushed me into the tub, still wearing what I'd slept in. She
jerked off my high heels, then turned the water on, adjusting it until it
was almost scalding hot. I was too afraid to protest. At least I'd quit
crying. She quickly reattached the handcuffs around a

very solid towel rack. With a sinking heart, I remembered I'd installed
it for her three weeks ago. More evidence that she'd been planning this
for a very long time!

To the burning water, she added fragrant bath salts and oils. She
reached under me and with a cruel jerk, removed the plug that almost felt
like part of my ass.

"You've earned the next larger size, cunt. We've got to get you
loosened up and ready for a big fat real cock, don't we? After all, we
don't want it to hurt you so much you can't enjoy the way it's going slide
in and out of you."

That was more than enough to make me sob all over again. "Please," I
begged her softly, "Not that. Anything but that."

"Anything, Sheila? You mean that anything's better than having a man
lift your sexy legs over his shoulders and spread those cute buns under
your dress and hammer you with his cock?"

"Yes!" I wailed hysterically. "Anything!"

"Oh, baby," she laughed, "I'm going to make you remember what you just
said. When you're crying this hard, begging me to let you have a cock up
your ass, I'll remind you. And you will, you know. Just like you did last
night."

With the steaming tub filled to the rim, she left me to soak and think.
Horrible scenarios ran through my mind, but none were anywhere near as bad
as what she'd said. What could be worse than having another man do that to
me? The whole thing was a nightmare, but that ...

The water was almost cool by the time she returned, and I was having
trouble. It was like the butt plug had already loosened my asshole, and I
was sweating as I tried to keep my bowels from emptying in the bathwater.

"Toilet!" I begged the instant the door opened.

"Oh, my! Do we have a problem, darling?" I barely noticed that she was
in makeup as wild as the night before and wearing an ebony minidress that
looked as wet and skin tight as her bodysuit had.

"I need to shit! Please!"

She giggled merrily. "We can't have that, can we? You'd have to walk
around all day smelling of your own shit!" She put a theatrically
thoughtful red nail before her thick scarlet lips. "Now let me see. What
did I do with those keys?"

I realized as she turned away that she wasn't coming back. I knew the
keys were just outside the door on an end table. And she didn't return
until she heard the forlorn wail I made fifteen minutes later as my
stretched sphincter finally released. I was straining to keep as much

of my body out of the filth as I could and crying like a lost toddler.

She clucked her tongue at me and looked disgusted. "Well, Sheila.
That's your third fuck up already, and you've only been awake an hour.
What am I going to do with you? I'm only going to be able to have you
fucked by a few men before it's more reward than punishment."

"I'm sorry! I'll behave! I swear to God I will. Please, Ellen, give
me one more chance!" I knew she was maneuvering me, but it was all I could
do.

She walked up to the side of the tub, petted my damp wig with her hand.
I looked up, pleading with my eyes. I could see right up her skirt, see
that she wasn't wearing any panties, just garters to hold up her seamed
hose. Her naked pussy pouted down at me. I remembered how it tasted. Her
searing red mouth smiled. "Anything, darling. That's what you said.
Remember? Now take a deep breath and relax."

With that, she unlocked my hands. I knew what was coming. Nausea
welled up in me as she pushed my head under the water I'd soiled. At least
she let me shower and scrub myself clean, even though I didn't feel that
way. It didn't feel like I'd ever be able to get clean. I hated her for
what she'd done - all of it, not just in the bathtub. But it was a strange
hatred, more fear than anger, if that makes sense. It didn't to me. I was
more and more convinced that I wasn't going to

be able to escape her - ever. My self-confidence had been eaten away
over the past day until I doubted everything except her cunning.

Somehow, being naked was even worse than wearing the corset and teddy
had been. My hairlessness seemed all the reminder I needed. I wrapped a
towel around me to hide as much of myself as I could while I shaved my
light beard as smooth as was humanly possible. I knew the towel was a
feminine gesture, but I couldn't stand seeing myself that way.

When I finally minced out of the bathroom in my shackles, holding my
shampooed wig in my hand, she acted like nothing had ever happened. She
was chatty, in a kind of girl to girl way. She'd loaded a tray with fresh
fruit and coffee. My mouth watered as I ate my share and tried to make
light conversation. She was critical of my voice, but not in a vicious
way. As she cleared the scant meal, she told me to do my makeup like a good
girl.

I promptly tried to imitate what had been done to me several times the
day before. I'd been paying no attention, and was finding the task
overwhelming. I swallowed my fear and meekly asked for her help. I
watched her expressionless face as she approached, fearful of her

wrath, but her smile made me try to, also.

"Of course, my love. I'm so happy you asked." She pressed her soft
breasts against the back of my head as she hugged me. "I'd love to help
make you beautiful. But," she warned tenderly, "you must learn to do it
for yourself, or I'll be upset."

"I will," I vowed, relishing the feel of her chest wrapping around me.
"Uh, by the way, I think you're beautiful today." It was the most truthful
thing I'd said all day.

"Um," she purred, sliding her hands down my smooth chest, playing with
my nipples, rubbing her breasts more firmly against me. "Thank you, lover.
I knew you'd like it as much as I do."

She let her hands slide lower still, grasped my growing member in a
gentle hand. "God, you make me so hot," she whispered, staring at me via
the mirror. "You've done your lips even better than I did. Such a sweet
red pout - but you should never start with lipstick, baby. Oohh.

My cunt's dripping, thinking about how good they'd feel kissing it like
you did last night. You gave me the best orgasm I've ever had, Sheila. I
want to sixty-nine with you, lick your clit until we both cum."

"I want that, too," I panted hotly, imagining my cock in that sweltering
red mouth. I spoke what I hoped she wanted to hear. "Let me lick you
again. Let me fuck you with my tongue."

She kept me stone hard and sweaty until she'd coached me through the
whole makeover. Then she forced me into a second corset, this one red, and
let me play with myself and her heavy breasts as she stretched the laces
tighter and tighter. She warned me over and over not to cum

until she gave me permission. I had to put the breast forms in myself.
Satisfied, she pushed me to the carpet and straddled my face.

"Eat me, whore," was her final command before lowering her head toward
my big, raging clit.

It didn't take either one of us long. I couldn't wait for her to tell
me to let go. She started writhing on my face as her orgasm hit her, and
mine erupted wildly moments later. She didn't seem to mind, as she moaned
loudly, despite her mouthful, and sucked mightily. I was still lazily
licking her when she lifted herself off me and turned around. She brought
her smeared red lips down to mine and kissed me hungrily. She forced her
tongue into my mouth, then pushed

the glob of cum she'd saved into the back of my mouth. I tried to pull
away, but there was nowhere to go. She clamped one hand over my lips and
massaged my throat until I swallowed repeatedly, my eyes filled with tears
of humiliation.

"There. Was that so bad, Sheila? Because you're being so cooperative,
I'll overlook the fact that I didn't give you permission to cum. See? I'm
not unreasonable. If you continue to behave, we can both enjoy ourselves.
But the moment you rebel, I'm the only one who'll enjoy myself. Now be a
doll and take your vitamin before you fix your face."

The way she said it made me suspicious. I looked at the big pill when I
rolled it into my palm.

Her laughter made me turn my head after I'd swallowed it. "You're
right, dear. That's a very special vitamin. You've been taking a huge
dose of female hormones for over a month now. Haven't you noticed how
smooth your skin is getting? Soon, you'll be growing your very own

breasts!"

I stared at her in utter horror, more sick to my stomach than bathing in
my shit had made me.

"Why are you doing this to me?" I cried.

She encircled my waist from behind, trapping my arms within hers.
"Because it's what we both want, darling. Don't you see? You need this as
much as I do." Her voice turned stern and cold. "If you ruin your makeup
by crying, I'll make you regret it."

It took superhuman effort to stifle the tears. I wondered, in my panic,
if the daily overdose of hormones was what was making me so emotional. I
tried to pay attention to the cosmetics as I prepared my face to go back to
the mall. I didn't care how I looked - but Ellen did, and pleasing her was
something I HAD to do.

Dressed in a skimpy gold dress and strapped into yet another pair of
five inch heels, with the promised larger butt plug trapped between my ass
cheeks and my wig pinned to my scalp, she led me back to the garage. I was
somewhat shocked that she didn't use the handcuffs. I guess she figured
the leather collar and leg irons and my full blown feminine look was enough
incentive to behave. She was right, too.

5. Chapter- Defining Sheila

It was ten times worse than the day before. Ellen's almost obscene
black dress and lewd makeup attracted the attention of everyone we
encountered as we traipsed through the mall. While all their eyes locked
on her first, they took me in also. She warned me, after we'd gone a
little way, to stand tall and act proud of my beauty, or else. The shop
windows showed me how I looked, with my big breast forms and tiny waist and
full hips revealed by the clinging gold dress. I couldn't ignore how
enticing my widely swaying ass looked. I felt like a beacon, like people
could see me from miles away. She'd deliberately parked as far from the
beauty salon as possible, exposing us to the blatant stares of hundreds of
people as we traversed the full length of the shopping center. I felt
every lusty look like it was actually touching me.

By the time we finally got to the salon, I was horribly confused. While
I was ashamed to death of being publicly exposed like that, I was also a
little breathless with excitement. It wasn't really sexual. My cock
wasn't rock hard, for which I was immensely thankful. It was more like I
was doing something dangerous, something illicit, that charged me with
adrenaline. I was fooling everyone! They were staring at me as hard as
they could, and had no idea!

The way Ellen looked at me when we turned into the beauty shop told me
she knew what I was feeling. Her smile mocked my pleasure, said, "I told
you so," without her having to say a word.

Cindy and my wife again led me to the back room. I was grateful to be
out of sight and tried to relax. After my period of freedom, I was
dismayed when Ellen again used the velcro straps on my wrists.

"You know what to do," she told Cindy. "And while you're at it, she
broke a fingernail this morning that needs to be fixed."

"No problem," the stylist smirked. "I've been thinking. If you'd like,
I could wax her legs and chest and I think I can do better with her face,
too."

"Great idea! Do whatever you think the little bitch needs. I'll be
back in an hour or so." She turned her wet red lips up and smiled at me.
"Be a good girl, Sheila. I think Cindy likes you, so be very nice and
don't give her any trouble."

I nodded meekly, tried to smile back, and used the tips she'd given me
on speaking right. "Have fun shopping."

As soon as she was out of sight, Cindy started acting different. "Okay,
Sheila, we're going to have a lot of fun today. You're not going to
believe how hot you're going to look before I'm through with you."

She removed my wig, which was embarrassing. Anybody who walked in would
recognize me for what I was. I was expecting her to style it or something.
Instead, she threw it carelessly on the counter and picked up a pair of
shears. When she started cutting away all my hair, I froze. She didn't
stop until my hair was an eighth of an inch long all over! Then, to my
horror, she picked up a straight razor and ran it ominously over a strop,
smiling wickedly at me all the while.

I sat rigidly, gripping the armrest as tightly as I could, while she
applied shaving cream to my scalp and shaved me completely bald! I was
whimpering, doing everything possible not to cry at my humiliation.

"Now look in the mirror, Sheila!" It was a command at least as intense
as any Ellen gave me. I obeyed, fearing the consequences, and was
astonished by what I saw.

It wasn't a bald man sitting there, but a lovely, delicately featured
young woman with a scalp as slick as a cue ball! I tried as hard as I
could to see myself under the clothes and cosmetics, and couldn't! The
dangling earrings, arched eyebrows and bowed, trembling red lips weren't
mine! The heaving double swell of my chest looked like it belonged there!
The shapely hose covered legs and towering high heels were someone else's!
I had vanished as thoroughly as if I'd never

existed!

"Now for the good part," Cindy said. She lifted another wig, long,
platinum blonde and obviously very, very expensive, from a box. She showed
me a peculiar smooth liner on the underside instead of the weave like on
the other one. "What happens is that I apply a nice smooth

coat of a special epoxy to your scalp and the wig, then ..."

She let her words trail off. I completed the sentence for her in my
mind. It'd become permanent. Maybe, in a month or so, as my hair grew
out, it'd loosen. Until it did, the silver blonde hair would cascade over
my shoulders and reach part way down my back. It finally

penetrated that my two week vacation "cruise" wasn't going to end that
soon, no matter how well I behaved.

I gave in to my tears while Cindy smeared the smelly paste all over my
scalp and I openly sobbed when she carefully fitted the wig to my head,
jerking it firmly into place. She wore an expression of triumph.

"Jesus," she sneered, "what a pussy you are! It's no wonder your wife
treats you this way. It's exactly what a wimpy little fag like you
deserves! Now I'm going to take these straps off and get you out of that
corset long enough to make sure there's not a single bit of stubble
anywhere on you. Give me any shit, and I'll invite every woman in the shop
to come back and laugh at your naked body!"

Taking all my clothes off was even worse than wearing them. I felt like
I wasn't a man anymore, and she destroyed the illusion that I was a woman,
too. She laughed at the plug closing my ass as she smeared a burning,
stinking chemical all over me, even on my face, cock and

balls, and made me endure the torture of the depilatory far longer than
was necessary. I was afraid it was going to burn my penis and balls right
off. She pushed me into a shower and made me rinse it all off and use a
heavily perfumed soap and then fragrant body powder. I noticed how smooth
and soft I was all over. I guessed the hormones were working, like Ellen
had said.

She laced me back into the red corset even tighter than my wife had, but
had added some padding to the hip area while I showered. When she stepped
back to admire her work, I had even more of an hourglass figure than
before. She made me sit in the chair, with nothing to cover my

dangling, shriveled genitals, while the other girl, Debbie, redid all my
nails, not just the one I'd cracked, and made them even longer and redder.
The way she smirked from time to time at my groin made me wish my sex
organs would crawl up inside me.

Cindy, meanwhile, was styling my new hair and redoing my face, using a
different colored foundation, lots of bright blush, and making my eyes and
lips look as slutty as Ellen's did. I really and truly looked like a cheap
whore with useless male organs where a wet pussy should have

From: nostrumo@nienor.IN-Berlin.DE (Nostrumo)

Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.tg

Subject: Repost TG: The Surprise Vacation by an unknown author and
Tristmegistus (3/6)


The_Surprise_Vacation________________by_an_unknown_author_and_Tristmegistus
_ 3

been.

That's the way my wife found me on her return. Her eyes widened with
surprise, then her lush lips smiled. "Good lord, Cindy! You're a genius!"

"You've got one hot little slut here!" the stylist laughed.
"Thirty-seven, twenty-two, thirty-five unless I'm blind. That gold dress
is going to be stretched even tighter over her mean little ass. Too bad
she's got such a pot belly under that corset. Get her to lose fifteen
pounds and she'd be a real knockout - if she didn't have that ugly thing
between her legs."

"Twenty pounds is more like it," my wife said. She patted my wrist. "I
know she can do it. She may not show it, but she loves what you've done
for her, don't you darling?"

When I meekly nodded, her hand tightened on my arm. Before she could
reprimand me for not answering aloud, I did. "Yes. It's lovely. Thank
you, Cindy."

They both laughed at my spinelessness. Cindy added, a little
hesitantly, "I, uh, came across something else I think she might like. If
you don't mind, Ellen, I'd like to give her a present."

Ellen looked touched. "Cindy! That's so sweet! Of course you may!" I
was instantly filled with fear.

The stylist opened a drawer in her cabinet and brought out a gaily
wrapped package with "To Sheila," written on the tag and handed it to me.
The paper read "Happy Birthday," all over. I blushed furiously.

"Well open it, silly girl!" my wife urged.

I did, fumbling, unable to use my hands as I always had due to the
absurd length of my hooked nails. I discovered I could use them as tools,
sliding them along, slitting the paper like a letter opener. Inside the
box was a bizarre flesh toned elastic device something like both a g-string
and a pouchless jock strap. When I figured out its function, my blush went
even deeper.

"A retainer!" Ellen said appeciatively. "Oh, Sheila, put it on for us!"
She ripped off the velcro bands, freeing my arms.

I bent forward as far as I could, exhaled every bit of air in my lungs,
but the corset wouldn't let me come close to reaching my ankles, even when
I lifted one foot. "Will you help me?"

"Of course, darling! Here!" I delicately lifted each foot as she
slipped it over my ankles, but she stopped when she'd lifted it to a height
I'd shown I could reach. I had to do the rest.

It was humiliating to have to detach my hose from the garters, elevate
my hips, and work the thing into place. Worst of all was reaching inside
it and arranging my penis and balls so that they flattened into absolute
invisibility. Ellen again helped me with my tiny bikini panties. When all
was done, I had a perfectly smooth middle. Even the retainer's tough
elastic string dug so deeply into my flesh that it left no line.

For all visible purposes, I had been turned into a complete woman, even
if they peeked up my dress. No one who saw me would ever doubt my
femininity now. The leather collar covered the lump of my larynx. My
knees weren't even knobby. I felt positive that I would "pass" wherever I
went. But that was only part of it.

My own senses reported no masculinity left in me. My shimmering hair -
the only hair I had other than my carefully shaped eyebrows - had tickled
my cleavage as I bent forward, swung with my every move. Dangling from my
ears were long gold earrings that chimed softly when I moved my head. I
had learned to look out at the world through long black lashes thick with
mascara, day and night. When I looked at my chest, even without breast
forms, I saw how much the corset lifted and shaped my very own flesh into
small pink bosoms - and Ellen assured me that, due to the hormones, they
were growing. Now even my panties were flat and smooth. My every word was
shaped by lips that dripped with deep red color. My fluttering hands were
branded, changed by long scarlet commas. My ass was perpetually violated
by a fake penis I'd gotten used to feeling rub my insides as I walked.
Even without high heels, my hips rolled and swayed.

My emotions weren't even my own. Maybe it was the hormones, maybe it
was something else, but the bottom line was that I cried every time I
became afraid. I felt that EVERY emotion I felt was visible. Ellen had
easily seen through my sly efforts to try to escape from her control. And,
while I hate admitting it, she'd also read, without even trying, how
pleased I was by what Cindy had done to me. I DID like it. I WAS
grateful. And the clearly visible rush of joy that made them

laugh was making me sick.

While they chatted about this and that, I paid no attention. I was
trying to name a new emotion growing in me. I hated myself for what I was
feeling. It made me feel like maybe I was exactly what Cindy had called me
- a pussy, a wimpy little fag. That was the only kind of man

I could think of who'd be so proud of his completely feminized
appearance as I was.

As Ellen turned to me and asked me a question, I was jerked back from my
sad musing. "I'm sorry," I had to confess, despite the danger, "I didn't
hear ..."

Cindy laughed throatily. "Little cunt was so busy admiring herself she
wasn't listening."

My wife's look was stern, and her eyes shone maliciously. "I asked you
if you'd like to thank Cindy for her birthday gift."

"Yes. Of course. Thank you, Cindy. It's -"

"Not that way," Ellen interrupted harshly.

I was befuddled. Cindy took my hand, helped me stand, led me back to
the bathroom. I had no idea what was happening, but I was sure I wasn't
going to like it. She locked the door and leaned against the lavatory.
"You really didn't hear, did you?"

"Uh, no. I'm sorry. I -"

"Ellen was telling me what a great pussy eater you are, how you make her
cum like she's never cum before."

I paled, felt dizzy, sick. Unable to speak, I watched her hands slowly
lift her skirt, inch at a time.

"You know what to do, Sheila. Don't make me use force."

I stared at her exposed panties. They were a pale blue. Their crotch
was moist, dark. One hand released her hem. I felt the weight of it
transerred to my shoulder. I sank to my knees. What else could I do?

She made me do it all. I watched my woman's hands tenderly lower her
panties, revealing her moist cunt, its lips shaven, but with a cloud of
brown curls left above the hooded clitoris. I touched, stroked it, finger
fucked it, careful of my nails, exactly as she told me to. I kissed it and
licked it and inserted my tongue in her cavity to her gasped
specifications. She didn't taste quite like Ellen did. Less fishy, more
fragrant. Better, really. Her hands were rough in my hair though. The
sharp pain in my scalp was almost exactly as if my hair was real, not like
the wig had been.

When she came with a muffled shriek, I hungrily licked her clean. My
penis throbbed in my new restraint, filling it with cum. I hadn't even
touched it. My lust had betrayed me. Even after her hands left my hair, I
stayed there, kissing away the dregs of her passion, increasingly aware of
how I'd left my lipstick all over her, how proud of myself I was for
returning her gift in the only way I could.

"You ARE good, Sheila," she purred, no laughter left in her tone.

"Thank you. You taste so good, Cindy." I kissed her reddened clitoris
one last time. Was it really me admitting that, meaning that? It must be.

She helped me to my feet, more tender than she'd ever been. She
gathered me in for a soft kiss, and I offered no resistance, automatically
parted my lips for her tongue. "Next time, I'll give you another present
and maybe I'll taste you. Would you like that?"

"If you want to. If it's okay with Ellen," I stammered. My eyes were
on my face in the mirror as she hugged me. My cheeks were wet with her
fluids. My lips were smeared. When I licked them, I tasted the candy of
my lipstick and the richness of her cum. I'd made her do that, given her
so much pleasure that she'd shouted it aloud.

"You didn't answer me, slut. Would you LIKE that?"

"Yes, Cindy. Very much. I ... I came, too." I watched the honesty
made my face red.

She pushed me to arms length, her eyes twinkling merrily. "You did?
Show me!"

My regret was instantaneous. I stuttered, looking for a way out. Her
expression turned stony. "Show me, whore! Show me the mess you made in
the present I gave you!"

Batting back tears of shame, I wiggled my panties down, then the heavy
elastic, sticky with spewed sperm. My cock hung, tiny and wrinkled and
ugly, shiny with thick spunk.

Cindy's laughter was like tinking bells. "What does Ellen make you do
when you cum? Does she punish you?"

I could lie, I thought. Maybe she wouldn't tell my wife. But if she
did? And, did I really WANT to lie? "She ... she makes me eat it."

"Well? What are you waiting for?"

I was ready for it that time. I knew the taste and texture. I sc****d
up what I could. She made me unhook my hose and remove the device and lick
it clean. Her eyes glittered the whole time. Her breath was quick again.
I could see her nipples through her dress. This was giving her pleasure,
too. I made a small, shy show of the process, trying to look like I
enjoyed what I was doing. Didn't I, at least a little? Wasn't this a
vital part of what'd been done to me? Didn't it

earn me favor, freedom? Such a small price to pay.

"May I put it back on now, Cindy?" I'd seen how my penis was growing. I
wanted to hide it.

"No. Let's show Ellen what a good bitch you've been."

I hung my head and she led me out, panties dangling from one hand,
retainer from the other. Her voice was thick while she related every
detail to my wife. I hazarded a glance at Ellen from beneath the shield
locks of my tangled hair, and quailed inside.

She wasn't pleased by my actions. She was shocked, maybe even dismayed,
and trying not to show it. I felt my lower lip begin to tremble as my eyes
filled with fearful tears. I'd been so sure I was doing the right thing!

The next time I glanced up, her face was a blank mask, and her eyes were
on me, not Cindy, whose voice was but a dim echo. She read my confusion
like I was an open book. I guess I was. I couldn't look away. She
deliberately reached into her purse and came up with a package of
cigarettes and a lighter. My shock deepened. She abhorred everything
about tobacco, yet she tapped out a cigarette and lit it and inhaled as if
she'd been doing it for years. I was like a rodent

hypnotized by a snake, staring vacantly at how her bright lips stained
the white filter, then pursed as if she was kissing the grey plume she
exhaled.

Cindy's tale ended and my wife's eyes dismissed me. She smiled tightly,
but Cindy missed the tension in it. "Very good, Sheila. You're turning
into the perfect little slut, aren't you?"

She was waiting. I didn't know what to say. "I ... I guess so. I'm
sorry if -"

"There's nothing to be sorry about, darling. Nothing at all. But we
have to hurry. There's so much to do before we go out tonight. Go back in
there and get dressed. Fix your makeup."

Ellen paid Cindy while I quickly wiggled into my undergarments, repaired
my lipstick and powdered my face. The stylist refused a tip. "Sheila's
already given me one," she laughed. "Bring her back next week if you'd
like to begin electrolysis on her face."

I followed numbly. Electrolysis to remove my thin facial hair? I
didn't even worry about it. All my worries were focused on my wife. She
marched quickly along, forcing me to have to hurry to keep up. I felt
awkward, stumbling along as best I could in the five inch heels, and knew I
was making a fool of myself. She was angry what I'd done. Very angry.
I'd be punished horribly for some transgression, and I wasn't even sure
what it was. Because I'd had an orgasm as I ate

Cindy? That must be it.

She didn't slow her pace, and I fell farther and farther behind.
Everyone was looking at us - the striking brunette in the clinging black
lycra dress, and the slutty, clumsy platinum blonde. After a

while, I realized no one could tell I was following her. We didn't look
like we were together.

A surge of panic made me bite my lower lip to stifle a shout. Was she
going to abandon me here? Was she deliberately going to force me to get
home however I could? My pace faltered, throwing me even further behind.
What was I going to do? I had no money, no identification nothing! My
legs refused to carry me another step. I was frozen, in the middle of a
throng of shoppers. A man bumped into me and I nearly leapt out of my
skin.

He stopped. "You okay lady?" His eyes touched me, raked me.

I bolted. I couldn't stand how close he was, what his eyes were doing.
I pursued my wife, not caring how it looked. I felt like my very life
depended on catching her before she reached the car. To my utter horror, I
couldn't see her. Even in five inch heels, everyone was taller than I was.
The crowd had closed around her, as if it was trying to hide her. I
hesitated, turning hopelessly this way and that, at the juncture of two
wings of the mall, having no idea which direction she'd gone. I was too
scared to even remember where the car was. I'd never felt so utterly lost
and alone, even as a c***d. How could she hate me so much that she'd do
this to me?

I was positive my immobility was again drawing more attention to my face
and body. I knew I looked like I was advertising, asking for exactly the
kind of looks I was being given. There was nothing exciting about it now.
My wife had buffered me from it, made me safe. Now, I was totally
vulnerable, exposed even more than I had been when Cindy stripped me nude
in the salon.

Terror became dread certainty. Something horrible was going to happen.

"Scared, cunt?" came a sibilant whisper in my ear.

I whirled to her, my nightmare ended. "Oh, Ellen! Where were you?"

"You're crying. Stop it this instant." She handed me a tissue. She was
still angry, but there was compassion, too.

I hadn't even been aware of my tears, and was ashamed. "I'm sorry." I
blotted my eyes like she'd taught me. "I guess I was making a fool of
myself again. Did I mess up my eyes?"

"Not too badly. Come on. I need a drink."

This time, her pace was moderate, but her low grade anger made me hold
back a step. I was desperate to please her, to make amends for whatever
I'd done wrong. I reminded myself to stand tall, act proud, do everything
she'd told me to do. It didn't fully register that we were going to a bar
until she crossed the flow of traffic and led me into a dim, hushed space
that smelled of smoke and liquor. It was barely three in the afternoon,
and the place was anything but crowded.

My wife occupied one half of an isolated booth. I took the other side.

She silently stared at me until I dropped my eyes. The tension was so
thick I could taste its bitterness on my tongue. Urgency built within me
to end it, but my jaw seemed locked closed. My mind spun madly, looking
for the right thing to do, to say. A waitress appeared. Ellen

ordered a pair of stingers in somber tones. I thought she was digging
through her handbag for makeup so I could make repairs, but she extracted
another cigarette instead. The lighter added light to her face for a
moment.

"What? You disapprove of me smoking?"

"It's just a shock is all. It looks so ... like you've been doing it
for a long time."

She exhaled with what seemed relief. "What if I told you I started oh,
say, six months ago? What if I said that, since you weren't paying any
attention to me, I bought this dress and started going out?"

My mouth hung open foolishly. "You did? Oh, God, Ellen!" Pictures
flickered through my mind. Ellen, painted and needy, sitting in places
like this looking for men.

"I didn't say that's what happened. I said 'what if.' How would that
make you feel?"

"Sick, I guess. And sorry I was so blind. Is there anything I can do
-"

Her laugh was harsh. "You keep assuming that's what happened, you
stupid bitch. If you knew I'd been fucking other men - excuse me, men
period - would you feel betrayed? Jealous?"

"Of course! I love you, Ellen. I'd do anything to -"

The waitress delivered the drinks, reducing us to silence again. It was
even worse than before. It was like she'd fed me a slow poison. I felt it
eating at my guts. Doubt assailed me. Surely I'd have known. I'd have
smelled the smoke clinging to her flesh and clothes. I'd have been able to
tell if another cock had been inside her, if her lips had been passionately
locked to another mouth.

"'Anything,'" she mocked me, easily taking more smoke. "There's that
word again, Sheila. Every time you use it, you make me want to test you,
to push you, to see if you really mean it."

I squirmed.

"Drink up," she ordered, not touching hers, but waiting for me to sip
from my glass. Neither of us were big fans of hard liquor. Instantly, I
felt the small taste. Its warmth expanding outward from my empty stomach.
It'd been two days since I'd had a decent meal, and I knew the drink was
going to hit me like an avalanche. I wanted to ask her for a sandwich of
something. I held my tongue.

"You still don't get it, do you?"

"I ... I think so. You're saying that what I ... what happened with
Cindy made you feel ... uh, betrayed."

She leaned back. Her blood red smile was sharp as a knife. "I warned
you. Remember? 'If you act like a slut, I'll have to treat you like one.'
I think those were my exact words."

"But I was just doing what you ordered me to do!"

"Did I tell you to cum? Did I tell you to like it? Did I tell you to
lick up your cum, or kiss her, or promise to let her suck you off the next
time she gives you a present?"

"No." I stared at my woman's hands wrapped around the drink, the rim
marked by my woman's lips.

She leaned forward. Her breasts touched the table. I could see down
almost to her nipples. "What do you call someone who gives sex in return
for gifts?"

My heart shriveled. "But you told me to thank her that way! I -"

"I didn't say a fucking thing about 'next time,' did I? Answer me!
What kind of woman does what you did?"

She was right. What'd I'd done - almost all of it - wasn't really
because she made me do it. I'd WANTED to. I felt the weight of the words
fill my mouth, overflow my lips. "A whore," I barely whispered.

"I didn't hear you."

I repeated it for her. "A whore. I acted like a whore."

"Is that what you are, Sheila?"

"No! I'm sorry, Ellen. I was wrong. I did a terrible thing. It'll
never happen again. I promise."

"Un huh. And I'm supposed to forgive you. Just like that?"

I swallowed. "I, uh ... I guess I should be punished."

"Are you asking me to punish you?"

I finally managed to meet her steely gaze. "I want you to do whatever
you need to do. I need you, Ellen. I love you more than anything. If you
have to hurt me to forgive me, I'll take it." I was whining, begging. I
meant it with my entire being. "When I thought you'd abandoned me here, I
saw how much I need you. I can't stand the thought of ever being without
you. I think I'd die without you. You've ... I'm different now. I'm
scared all the time. The only time I feel good is when I'm doing what you
want."

I watched her anger evaporate, saw the real love in her eyes. "Do you
really mean that, honey?"

I was thrilled! "Oh, god, yes!"

"And you'll willingly prove it to me?"

I hesitated before I said the next word. I needed to be sure I meant
it, she said. "Anything."

Her smile was a ray of brilliance. Her hand covered mine, squeezed.
"You are a treasure, my love. I adore you. I realized something myself.
What you did with Cindy made me admit to myself how much I need you, too.
Now finish your drink."

I swallowed it with unladylike gulps, then gasped for breath. We both
laughed.

I shook my head at the instantaneous blast of dizziness, felt my hair
tickle my shoulders. "Whoo! That's more than I've had to drink in years."

"Since our wedding," she grinned, then pushed the second glass toward
me.

"You want me to drink this one, too?"

"Un huh. In time. But first let's go freshen up. I love what Cindy's
done to your face, don't you?"

I babbled affirmatives to her questions as we wound our way to the
ladies' room. It was weird going in there, but the thrill of illicitness
was back. I'd always wondered what those forbidden doors hid. I whispered
how much fun it was to fool everyone, to take little risks like this and
almost dare people to challenge me.

"I know exactly what you mean," she laughed gaily, but softly. "I feel
the same way wearing these clothes and using so much makeup. That's why I
smoke, too. It's part of the disguise. Want to try it?"

"I'd choke. That wouldn't be very sexy, would it?"

We kept up our quiet chatter while we touched up our faces, trading
cosmetics, giving one another giggled advice. We were mirror images, I
thought. She dark, me light; she real, me false. For the first time,
being wrapped in feminine clothes, my face coated with color, my body

changed - all of it felt utterly right. Maybe it was the hammer-like
impact of the alcohol, but I wouldn't have changed a thing, and told her
so.

Her eyes filled with tears. "I never expected to hear you say that,
love."

My smile in the mirror was bright. My lips were perfect. "I don't know
- or even care - why you wanted to do this to me. Thank you, Ellen."

6. Chapter - Stepping Out

"You're making me hot again," Ellen told me. She deliberately weighed
her heavy breasts. "See?"

Her nipples were indeed denting the shimmering black lycra dress. "I
noticed," I giggled, the alcohol making me reckless. "Would you like me to
do something about it?"

"You'd do me right here in the bathroom?" she purred.

"I'd do you anywhere you want. You make me hot, too, you know." My lips
were suddenly hungry. I wanted to replace Cindy's aftertaste with Ellen's
more pungent flavor.

"Not yet. Let's get out of here before it gets any worse."

"Worse?" I simpered teasingly, bending over to straighten my hose,
placing my face near her middle. The cascading silvery mane felt
wonderful. I could almost taste the dew certain to be collecting on the
inner surfaces of her labia. With a sudden rush, I remembered that my wife
was wearing no panties beneath that tiny dress, that her sleek, shaved
pussy was naked, mere inches from my saliva filling mouth. I felt my face
flush.

"I want to lick you, Ellen."

"You're drunk, you shameless hussy. I'd better get some food in you.
Come on."

Arm in arm, we re-entered the bar. My pulse was still hammering. I'd
eaten two pussies that day, had two marvelous orgasms, and was feeling
horny all over again. And rash.

The bar was filling. Our return drew eyes. I was already aware of how
beautiful I looked, how sexy in the shape-fitting gold minidress.
Thirty-seven, twenty-two, thirty-five, Cindy had declared with confidence
born of expertise. At five feet two inches, sans the heels, that made me a
knockout. The male eyes touching me didn't feel quite so invasive. The
potent drink had numbed my fear, warmed my libido. It was almost a
disappointment to reach our booth and hide ourselves behind a table.

Ellen leaned forward over it. The underhalf of her fine breasts again
pressed the smooth surface, and her deep cleavage opened to me. Her eyes
were hooded, the way they got when she was aroused. Her nipples were still
erect, must be visible to all our admirers. A stab of envy

pierced me. My latex breast forms, full as they were, felt inadequate.

"Would you like me to order you a snack, darling? Would you like to
stay for a while longer?"

I mechanically sipped the drink she'd pushed to my side of the table. I
was ashamed of my budding, twisted desire. "If you want to." Her face
changed to the look that demanded a real answer. "Yes. I'd like that."

She leaned back, dug for the cigarettes. "Now was that so hard?"

"I guess not." I watched her chest swell as she filled her lungs with
smoke. "Can I, uh, would you mind if I changed my mind about, uh ..."

"Smoking? Of course."

As Ellen's lighter flared in my hand and I hesitantly hollowed my cheeks
around the tobacco, the waitress arrived with another pair of unordered
stingers. "From the gentlemen," she informed us, nodding toward a table of
five businessmen across the room. I didn't like the taste of smoke at all.

My wife turned to smile at the table. "Thank them, Sheila. Give them
your prettiest smile."

My face tightened, my flush deepened. Deliberately smile at five men?
Men, just like me? Well, not quite like me, I admitted. But, wouldn't it
be rude not to - as well as annoying to Ellen? I'd already hurt her,
angered her deeply, and didn't want to risk that again. I knew how
enticing my lush red lips were as I turned up their corners and aimed them
toward the businessmen. As I did, Ellen shocked me. Beneath the table the
toe of one of her towering heels pressed against

my thighs, rubbed slickly over my hose.

My eyes jerked back to her. Her lips were slack. Her breathing was
quick. She'd slid down in her seat. "You're so beautiful," she muttered.
"Spread your legs, baby. Let me in."

My knees were knocking. I tried another puff of smoke. No one could
see, I reasoned. I obeyed her and swallowed a gulp of my drink. Dizzily,
I saw the lipstick coating its rim, marring the white filter of the
cigarette trembling in my hand. My bent-under prick was hard, hurtful,
invisible within the heavy elastic retainer. Her shoe slid smoothly
between my knees, rubbed up and down my inner thigh. With each stroke, it
went higher, its tip dipping under my high hem, nearing the tops of my
hose.

"Stop. Please," I whimpered.

"Am I embarrassing you?"

"Yes."

"Am I exciting you?"

I wet my lips. "Yes."

"Is your little clittie hard? Does it ache?"

My hips wanted to rock. I wanted to slide down so she could reach
higher. "Yes."

She suddenly dropped her foot and sat up. Her succulent mouth shaped an
inviting smile, directed over my shoulder. A deep voice throbbed in my
ear.

"May we join you?"

My entire body tensed. My head jerked toward the sound. Two men from
the distant table, broadly smiling, stood expectantly over us. My ears
were filled with a ringing noise. I barely heard Ellen.

"Of course. Sheila honey, scoot over."

I reflexively did as she commanded, felt the bench seat sag under a
heavy weight, smelled the sharp sting of male cologne over the stench of my
cigarette. A muscular shoulder brushed me as the man arranged himself. I
dared a quick look at my wife. Her heavy-lidded eyes were on me, glittered
mischievously. She'd deliberately set me up. She'd seen this coming.
She'd toyed with me, knowing what was going to happen.

She introduced us. I imagine I smiled mechanically, politely, although
I'll never be positive. The next few minutes are an absolute blank, a deep
hole in my memory. All I recall is a dire sense of panic. I was trapped
in the booth. I couldn't escape. There was nowhere to go. My glass was
suddenly empty. There was what I guess was a fresh cigarette burning
between my curved fingernails. Ellen's tall heel was sensuously rubbing my
ankle. My eyes on the table, I still saw her lean toward her gentleman,
watched her pendulous breast flatten against his bicep for a moment.
Beside me was a man. I darted my eyes up at him and he caught them. His
gaze spoke silent volumes. How desirable I was. How much he wished he
could kiss me, touch me. Fuck me.

Another round of drinks arrived. There was no food. The unaccustomed
alcohol was bringing me out of my shock. Ellen was flirting with both men.
Not outrageously, but encouraging them nonetheless. She was gently teasing
me about being so shy - recently divorced, she explained, and way out of
practice. She'd had to drag me out, she laughed musically. I wondered if
her pun was intentional, decided it was. She'd proven her genius.
Everything she did was intentional. What did she intend to happen next?
Her hand dropped to the man's suit sleeve. Her eyes were locked with his.
My throat tightened. Would she fuck him? Would she make me ...

My voice was shrill. It seemed to explode into the natural flow of
conversation. "Excuse me. I have to use the rest room. Ellen?" It was a
raw, desperate plea.

"Already?" she drawled. Her companion slid out. Mine patted my thigh,
let his hand linger for an instant before he moved. "Hurry back." His
breath puffed against my overheated cheek.

The drinks hit me like a truck the second I stood. The man who'd freed
me from the prison of the booth - Larry, I think his name was - caught me,
or I might have toppled off my heels. It was how he performed the
chivalrous gesture that was notable. He gathered me into his strong arms
like a lover. He didn't hold me tightly or lewdly, but did press against
me from breast to thigh. My thoroughly warmed latex tits must have been
convincingly soft. Through my spinning dizziness, I felt his erection on
my hip.

I fumblingly pushed away from him, but he kept his hands on my
shoulders, steadying me. The earth slowed its nauseating spin. Ellen was
standing beside me, wearing a wry red grin. She took my elbow and guided
my wobble toward the rest room. Her grip on my arm was painfully tight.
The instant the door closed behind us, she pushed me against the wall
length vanity. Her voice was a raw hiss.

"What the fuck's going on, Sheila? First you pout and sulk like a
little k** because I invited two gentlemen to sit with us, then you leap
into the guy's arms like a horny teenager."

"I'm drunk," I slurred. "I fell."

"My ass! It was deliberate as hell!"

"No!" I wailed. "I hate this, Ellen! All I want to do is go home!"

She sucked smoke savagely, spat it back out. "Maybe you'd like it if we
took them with us? You'd like to fuck him, wouldn't you?"

I shook my head so wildly that I staggered. I felt the tears gathering
in my eyes. "Don't say that. You know it's not true. Please don't be mad
at me. You know I can't drink."

"No one's been forcing you, bitch."

"I'm scared. It ... I ..."

She suddenly relented, hugged me, petted my silvery mane. It felt good
to be comforted. I nestled into her arms, lowered my head to her shoulder.
Her voice was soothing. "This's happening too fast for you, isn't it? All
these new sensations, these new feelings. It must be

very confusing."

I nodded meekly, sighed from the pit of my soul. The smell of smoke
mingled with her perfume to form an earthy scent.

"And," she chuckled, "I guess I did forget to order you something to
eat. Tell you what. Let's go back out there and make excuses and get out
of here. Okay?"

"Thank you, Ellen!"

"But I want you to do something for me first."

"Of course!"

"I want you to kiss him goodbye. A nice long kiss, like you mean it."

I lifted my wobbly head. My eyes were big as saucers and I'm sure my
pouty mouth hung open in shock. I started to ask her if she was serious,
but there was ice gleaming in her eyes. I dropped my gaze. I'd screwed up
so many times today that I'd lost count. I owed her whatever repayment she
demanded. I'd promised.

I barely heard my own voice. "You really want me to?"

"I do. Open your mouth. Use your tongue. I'll kiss mine, too - but
I'll be watching you. It'll make my cunt gush down my legs. It'll be fun
to watch them fall all over themselves, honey. They'll beg us to go out
with them. We'll give them a fake phone number, then I'll get you home and
feed you and sober you up. Deal?"

"I guess."

"Look at me," she demanded throatily, wiggling her skirt up, baring her
garters, then her naked cunt. "Look how fucking wet you make me, baby.
You turn me on so much it's killing me. I'm not hot because of those good
looking men. I'm dripping because I love watching you, Sheila.

Feel it, baby. Feel how wet I am."

I numbly reached down and rubbed her labia with a slender finger. She
purred, rocked her hips and took it a little inside. She was so slick, so
ready.

"That's what I want to kiss," I heard myself say. "That's where I want
my tongue."

She took a step back, her eyes deep pools of desire. "Not now. In the
car. On the way home. Just pretend his mouth is my cunt." She stretched
the black dress down over her hips, hiding her beautiful pussy.

She made me look at myself in the mirror. A reality check, she called
it. My own passion was as visible as my wife's. My nipples couldn't get
hard like hers, but my face reflected it just as deeply. Guiltily, I
smelled the finger that had caressed her. Her chuckle at my gesture was
low.

"Let's go do it," she said, "and get out of here before I **** you on
the spot."

Her left tit rubbed my right arm on the voyage back. I watched the
From: nostrumo@nienor.IN-Berlin.DE (Nostrumo)

Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.tg

Subject: Repost TG: The Surprise Vacation by an unknown author and
Tristmegistus (4/6)

4
_The_Surprise_Vacation_______________by_an_unknown_author_and_Tristmegistus
_

table approach, saw both men stand politely. They really were good
looking guys. Their suits were expensive. They were polite to a flaw, and
just a little forward. But then we looked like the kind of women who were
asking for male advances, so that was to be expected.

Ellen paused as we approached. "Sheila's not feeling well," I heard her
drone. We had to go. Disappointed noises from both. Ellen took us a step
closer. My eyes were locked on the one who'd picked me. Well trimmed dark
hair. Gleaming white teeth. Much taller than I was, and

vastly more muscular.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Ellen respond to the other one's faint
invitation and lean toward him. I mimicked her, refusing to think.

He gathered me up like I was a precious treasure. He enfolded me in
arms far more powerful than any I'd been in. His head bent toward mine and
my lips parted, just as they would have for Ellen. My arms went around his
waist.

His mouth was hard. His face was slightly scratchy. His tongue was
quick, agile, demanding. He ground his face against mine and took my mouth
with his own. There was no way I could pretend it was my wife. His
swollen groin was tight against my belly. When I pulled away, he

relented, released me. My lipstick decorated him like an indelible
stain, yet it vanished completely as he transferred it to his white silk
handkerchief. Did he have a wife who'd notice it, I wondered

stupidly, then tore my eyes away.

Ellen was completing the lie. Her desire-bruised lips were slightly
blurred, just as mine must be. I could make no sense of her words, just
waited patiently for her to finish. My man was saying something. I smiled
mechanically, my thundering pulse drowning out all sound. When Ellen
turned, so did I. We made our escape.

All I remember about the long trip back to the car is the way my body
moved. The plug buried in my ass caressed me with every short stride. My
hips felt loose, and I knew they swayed sexily. I didn't care. I felt my
breast forms bounce every time my high heels jarred against the

terrazzo floor. I felt the breeze of my movement lick my sleek thighs,
my long hair tickle my shoulders, the faint weight of the heavy earrings.
The corset's tightness was reassuring. My stone hard little cock, aimed
toward my warm ass cheeks, rubbed slightly between my thighs. I was as
drunk on sensation as I was on liquor.

I remember more about the drive home. I vividly recall burying my face
between Ellen's wantonly spread thighs as she sat behind the wheel. I knew
the windows were tinted and that my act would be unseen, but I'd have done
it anyway. I sucked and nibbled her through two restrained orgasms and was
working toward a third by the time we achieved the garage. She d**g me
away from her gaping cunt long enough to slide the seat back, then fucked
my face with crazed abandon, beating my chin with her hips. I don't think
she was even aware she was speaking.

"Oh, fuck me with that slutty tongue, baby. Stick it deep in me, just
like you did Cindy's nasty little hole. I almost died when you came out
with your clit and balls dangling down and your cum still in your hot
little whore's mouth. I saw how you kissed that guy, cunt. You loved it.
You let him tongue fuck your mouth, didn't you, you nasty little slut? You
felt how hard you made his big cock, didn't you? Every time you smoked, it
was like you were sucking a dick. The way you strutted through the mall
turned you on, didn't it? It made you feel like a tramp, didn't it? You
loved every minute of the whole fucking day, didn't you, baby?"

There was more. It was like each accusation, each question drove me
deeper into her slick slit. It was all true, every word of it. And I
wasn't ashamed. I felt no guilt. She was proud of me. This was what she
wanted. Atop my lust was an overlay of gratitude. I trusted her. She
knew what I wanted, what I needed. When she finally exploded, she did so
with v******e. She twisted my head, crushed my skull, jerked madly on my
hair. I felt my own orgasm trying to fill my panties, and somehow managed
to deny it. She hadn't given me permission.

The instant she threw me away from her, I rawly begged her to let me
finish myself. I was writhing with need, had to made fists of my hands to
keep them from my silky center.

Ellen sprawled obscenely against the driver's door, her dress around her
waist, her heavy tits exposed. Her nipples were immense. Her cunt lips
still pulsed. Her makeup was intact, although she'd gotten lipstick on her
teeth from biting her lower lip. She stared at me, had trouble lighting a
cigarette.

"Put your feet on the dashboard," she growled. "Open your legs as far
as you can."

I scrambled to do what she wanted.

"Reach down and show me your clit."

I jerked the panties away, loosed my purpled member from the restrainer,
displayed it, gasping, trying not to blow at the wonderful thrills created
by my touches.

"Bend forward as far as you can, slut. Try to suck it. Jack yourself
off. Shoot straight into your mouth."

I couldn't force the corset to bend much more and I whined in
frustration. She helped me, grabbing my ankles, forcing my knees higher.
It felt like I was being cut in half.

"Open those slimy lips, whore, and do it."

Two seconds later, I erupted. A gout of sperm splatted against my
forehead. A second struck my lower lip. The third landed on my heaving
chest. The rest simply drooled over my pumping fist. The instant she
released me, I started scooping up the fragrant, warm cum, eating it like
it was my favorite candy, wishing there was more.

"Good, baby," she cooed, "but not good enough. Let's get you inside.
I've got something I need to show you."

7. Chapter - Home Sweet Home

Later - much later, emotionally, if not by the clock - Ellen helped me
to bed. I needed every bit of assistance I could get. I'd been tied in a
position similar to, though more relaxed than the torturous bent forward
stance she'd employed the night before, and she'd taught me two very
important lessons. I was more accustomed to the squeeze of the corset and
the angle of the high heels, so that part of it wasn't nearly as agonizing.
The rest of the punishment, though, was much

more vicious than merely being spanked.

Ellen's first exercise was designed to illustrate how to suck cock. She
employed a strap-on dildo, one end of which was buried in the denuded cunt
still bearing my lipstick, and demanded that I perform fellatio on her
until my jaws ached and the back of my mouth was raw.

Begging her not to abuse my throat had proven worse than useless. As
she tapped her false cock against my sealed red lips, she reminded me of my
vow to do anything to earn her forgiveness. Would I prefer it if she went
to some bar and picked up a stranger equipped with the real thing and
brought him home for me? She'd be happy to drop to her knees in front of
me and lick its length, kiss its swollen head, and demonstrate first hand
how it should be done, if I wanted that. My answer was to part my lips and
ask her to tell me what to do.

The second lesson was how to take the same device, thickly greased, up
my stretched asshole. Relax, she'd urged as she pushed into me, and enjoy
it. The physical pain was much less than I expected. The butt plug must
have opened me up quite well, and the alcohol had deadened me. The
emotional trauma was much more severe.

My wife fucked my virgin ass - my cunt, she called it, her throat
clogged with lust - until the pressure of the dildo against her clit made
her cum. By then I was so delirious that I could almost feel the rubber
dong pulse and ripple in my gut as if it was expelling a huge load of sperm
deep into me.

Both were punishment for my slutty behavior at the beauty salon,
fulfillment of her earlier vow to treat me like a whore if I acted like
one. After her orgasm had eased, she gently withdrew her cock from me and
wiped it clean. As she used the warm, damp cloth to remove the messy
lubricant from my fiery red lower cheeks, she reached beneath me and
fondled my engorged cock, murmuring that I'd earned a reward. My hips
resumed the thrust they'd learned while she'd fucked me, and I watched
enthralled from between my spread, chained, hose clad legs, as her hand
glided over my long flesh, massaging it against the latex prick, heated by
my bowels and still strapped to her. I shrieked as I came, shooting my
jism all over her hand and the dildo.

When she moved back to my head, she didn't need to order me to lick the
shaft and her hand clean. That I was hungrily licking real cum from a cock
shaped toy was an irony that wasn't wasted on me.

Again I slept on the floor, chained to the bed frame, dressed in the
loosened corset and a different teddy. Ellen had coaxed my stunned brain
through the laborious process of removing all my makeup, explaining that it
wasn't good for my complexion to sleep in it, and showing me exactly how I
needed to care for my skin. I voided my violated bowels and easily
returned the ass plug to its home. In my exhaustion, even my
color-stripped face looked wholly female. I still

felt drunk, or d**gged. I wondered why I hadn't seen how feminine my
were features before, how I had truly been a woman awaiting her rebirth all
my life.

I silently cried myself to sleep, not because I was pain wracked from
her violation of me, not due to the cruelty of having every possible trace
of my masculinity erased - but because I'd loved almost everything that'd
happened to me, the whole day long. My thoughts weren't about how I could
restore myself back into maleness after my two week surprise vacation
ended, but rather to pray that I could somehow extend it forever.

It'd taken Ellen just over thirty-six hours to reveal, to myself and the
world at large, a side of myself I'd barely dared to even fantasize about.
While I'd sneakily worn her panties and dresses, this was what I'd wanted.
It'd been too horrifying, too perverse to admit, even in the darkest
recesses of my mind.

Even as I was wracked by silent sobs, I was wondering what my wife had
in mind for the next day. I knew that, no matter what I said, no matter
how strenuously I objected, I'd welcome whatever she made me do, no matter
how degrading.

My eagerness had passed by morning. The pain that hadn't been there the
night before throbbed in my ass, burned in the back of my mouth. My
calves, feet, and the small of my back were incredibly sore from wearing
the tall heels all day. My scalp itched like mad under the

permanently affixed wig. I had a hangover that felt like some insane
blacksmith was at work at an anvil between my ears. My stomach growled
with both hunger and nausea.

When Ellen released me, she didn't bother with shackles. I staggered
into the bathroom barefoot to take care of essential business. Unlike the
morning before, I couldn't bring myself to stand to urinate. I told myself
that was because I was so sick, and knew it was a lie. I sat on the toilet
ring because it would've been too shameful to act like I was still a man.
My penis and testicles were the only part of me that looked male, and I
couldn't bear the thought of peeing the old way. It would've been
shamefully hypocritical, a senseless denial of what had already become my
reality.

A long hot soak in a fragrant tub eased my physical woes, and a real, if
low-fat, breakfast lessened my psychic ones. Ellen weighed me. I was
astonished to see that I'd already lost five pounds. Her warning that the
next fifteen would be harder wasn't lost on me. I swallowed

my big "vitamin" with mixed feelings. I'd become aware how the large
dose of hormones had already affected my body. Part of me wished I could
swallow the entire bottle and accelerate the changes taking place. The
other part was ashamed to tears of that perverse desire.

She had me dress in the black corset, but left it moderately loose, and
had me cover it with the first casual clothes I'd worn in what seemed
forever. The new designer jeans were satisfyingly tight, and the three
inch heels were as easy to move in as tennis shoes had been in my old life.
I thought the green cotton blouse was flattering with the gold choker in
place of the leather collar I'd been wearing for the last two days. The
only makeup she allowed me was lipstick and mascara, which I had to do
myself.

I was still a pretty young woman, but one more suited to keeping house
than teasing cock at the mall. With rubber gloves protecting my too-long
nails, I set about cleaning the house with more gusto than I'd ever felt
before.

It was a purely domestic day, as were most of the two which followed.
There were no outrageous outside adventures. No shopping. No drinks at
bars. No scenes with other women - or men.

Ellen developed a routine for me. There were exercises designed to
limber me as well as work off pounds, without building ugly muscles. There
were daily lessons in feminine behavior and voice sessions every afternoon.
I gave myself two enemas every day. While grocery shopping

- our only trip out of the house during those three quiet days - my wife
bought me a videotape on cosmetics and demanded I memorize it, as well as
read every magazine article I could find on the same topic.

My feminine lifestyle quickly became second nature. I got so used to my
long silvery hair that I couldn't imagine having ever been without it. I
found I could do everything with my long painted nails that I'd done
before. The aches in my leg and back muscles eased and being

without high heels didn't feel normal. During rare moments without
breast forms and a butt plug, I felt like I'd been stripped of vital parts
of myself.

That was one of the most effective ways Ellen punished me. After
breaking one of our wedding wine glasses while unloading the dishwasher,
she angrily took off all my clothes and made me continue my chores nude
except for five inch heels and heavy rubber gloves. I hated the way my
cock and balls dangled, slapped against my smooth, hairless thighs with
every step. I felt fat and ugly with no corset to give me the lovely shape
I identified with. After an hour, I was in

tears, begging her to let me stretch my retainer over my male organs and
lace me back into a corset.

She was lounging in a hot bath while I cleaned the toilet and tile
floor. "You've broken something irreplaceable, Sheila. We toasted one
another with that glass at our wedding reception. After having destroyed a
symbol of our marriage, you ask me to lighten your punishment?"

"Just change it," I said in my more refined female voice. "Please,
Ellen. This is too ... too -"

"Humiliating? Disgraceful?" she mocked.

I nodded, unable to meet her eyes.

"If I let you start making amends, will you do everything I say for the
rest of the day without hesitation? No matter what it is?"

"Yes! I promise!"

She lay in the steaming water with her eyes closed for a moment. A
smile grew on her face. "Run to the vanity and bring back your favorite
lipstick, doll."

I took her order literally. Running in the tall heels was more scamper
than trot, but I'd become used to their limitations.

"Lay on your back on the floor."

The tile was cold.

"Raise your knees and spread your legs so you can see your clit. Good
girl. Take off your gloves. Now paint it with the lipstick. All of it. I
want it to be fuscia from top to bottom."

I stretched it, stroked the tube of vivid color up and down. It
hardened as I did, exposing yet more surface area to be coated. She
climbed from the tub, stood at my feet as I finished.

"Do your mouth, baby. Smear it on heavy."

The chills racing through me weren't caused by the cool floor. I ran
the lipstick over my mouth again and again until she nodded approval.

"Now jack off, bitch." She grabbed my ankles and bent me double, pushing
my knees as wide as they'd go. My shaft felt greasy in my palm, which was
instantly coated with bright color. She strained my back and neck muscles
until they screamed with pain, leaning all her weight on my comma shaped
body, forcing my cock closer and closer to my face.

"Pull your plug, cunt. Fuck your ass with the lipstick. No! Leave the
cap off the tube!"

The plug came out with the usual wet sensation. It was larger than the
lipstick, which slid easily inside my loosened hole. I held it so I could
see the dark plastic holder go in and out. My hand was a blur on my dick.
Slowly, my strained muscles let it come still closer to my slick red lips.

"Lick it, whore."

I strained my tongue as far as possible, but it wasn't far enough. I
was an inch away from the smeared, swollen purplish- red tip.

"Cum, lover. Shoot every drop right in your slutty little mouth."

As if her command was enough to make me explode, I did precisely what
she demanded. The closeup sight of my expanding, pulsing prick, the vision
of the first gout of sperm being expelled, the shocking sensation of my cum
spattering inside my gaping mouth - these factors seemed to quadruple the
intensity of my orgasm, send me into a realm beyond anything I'd ever
imagined. At that instant, my tongue somehow managed to make contact with
my leaping cock.

Something happened deep within my soul. Something irreversible. It was
like an electrical circuit had been closed, a psychic switch flipped. An
all new energy burned through me. It was entirely my imagination, but I
felt the whole length of my dick slide between my lips, into my mouth, down
my throat. All this in the split second before the second burst of cum hit
my hard palate, instantly followed by the third and fourth. By then, my
entire body was involved in the

mind-boggling climax. My ass was spasming around the lipstick tube,
squeezing it like a pussy does a cock. My hips were desperately trying to
fuck my mouth.

As the surges began to fade, my universe expanded beyond my body. I
heard my harsh gasps for air, Ellen's thick voiced encouragements. The
heel of one of my red shoes was buried in her cunt. But, above all, the
wonderful ripeness of my cum coated my mouth and tongue and soul.

I'd been made whole. A single touch of tongue to cock had made all the
difference in the world.

I caught the last oozes and dribbles in my cupped palm, milked my staff
with my lipstick covered fist, and licked it clean with a voracious hunger.
I'd stepped over a precipice and was still falling. My taste had been
whetted, not appeased. I wanted more - craved a steady flow of sperm down
my throat, not the teasing appetizer I'd given myself. I knew I'd gone mad
and I welcomed it.

Ellen disrupted my delirious reverie by lifting herself off my spike
heel and dropping my rubbery legs. She fell atop me, her hips thrusting
incoherently against my shrinking dick, her lips devouring mine, her tongue
frantic to share the flavor of my sperm. I felt the lipstick tube slip
from my ass. I opened my jaws to my wife, letting her lap from my cavity
like a dog does from a bowl. She too was cumming, using my spent rod to
rub her clit.

When she abruptly jerked away from me, her face bore an expression that
was as crazed as mine must have been. Her voice was low and raw. "Wash
the slime off your face and hands, whore. Leave everything else exactly as
it is and have your nasty ass in the bedroom in three

minutes."

She bolted from the bathroom like a berserker before I could move.
Every muscle in my body was relaxed. Pushing myself to my knees took a
massive effort. But I could almost hear a clock ticking off the seconds in
my head. I was infected by her wild energy. I scrubbed at my face and
hands, whining with frustration at the stubbornness of the lipstick's
stains.

I had no idea if I met her deadline. Neither did Ellen. She was
throwing clothes at the bed as I hurried on wobbly legs into the bedroom.

"Get dressed, you sleazy cunt."

I tried to be careful not to smear my lipsticked cock and ass on my
hands as I arranged my organs in the tight grip of the retainer. I
squirmed into the red corset while she lit a cigarette and stared at me
through narrowed, smoldering eyes. I rolled up equally red hose, stepped
into scarlet bikini panties. I looked around for an ass plug. There was
none. I looked at her helplessly, seeking guidance.

She grabbed the laces of the corset and began hooking me into it. Never
had she used such strength, restrained me so impossibly tight. Even
without the gel filled breast forms, my tit flesh bulged into the cups. My
nipples were nearly as swollen as my wife's. And I wished it was tighter
still. I ached for my tits to fill the cups to overflowing.

She tied me off and roughly pushed me toward the vanity. "Paint
yourself, slut. We're going out. We're going to get you laid for real.
Make yourself look like the whore you are, Sheila. If you don't use enough
makeup, I'll make you watch while some real man drills my cunt, then make
you lick his cum out of me."

I was utterly infected. I wanted that. I wanted to lay helplessly
beside her while a long fat prick drilled her wet pussy. I wanted to hear
her cries, watch her humping, spasming body. My mouth watered at the
thought of tasting her cum mixed with someone's sperm. It would've

been more like reward than punishment.

I created a face just as slutty as she wanted because I wanted it as
much as she did - maybe even more. I felt hollow, empty. I was going to
be fucked. By a man.

"Good," she growled, rubbing her cunt against the back of my head. She
ran a dildo over my cheek. "Use this on yourself while I do my makeup.
Don't even think about cumming again."

I flopped on the bed, curled my sexy legs to my chest and stroked the
long thin rubber cock in and out of my lipstick slickened ass while I
watched her. It was good. Very good.

I won't lie. I won't claim that everything that happened that night was
because of Ellen's dominance. That had nothing to do with it. I did it
all on my own. My mind remained filled with a haze as thick as my cum. It
allowed only surreal images of twisted lust to take shape. I was
possessed.

I spoke the name of the notorious bi-sexual bar through lips too heavy
with lipstick and gloss. I drove us there while she used the dildo on her
gushing pussy. I licked it clean after each of her two orgasms. I asked
her for a cigarette after we parked, after I'd freshened my wet red lips,
just before I led our pranced entrance. I sucked smoke as I scanned the
crowd, found us a table. I crossed my legs so anyone who cared to got a
good look at my long thighs.

I was completely devoid of shame. I selected and rejected my dance
partners, seeking just the right man. I found him after about a half hour.
I forgot about Ellen, who was on the dance floor dry fucking some guy. I
was at the table, working on my second drink and my third cigarette. I
wanted him the moment he sat in my wife's empty chair. My half hard clit
lurched toward the crack of my ass. My lips ached to be crushed under his,
and I unabashedly let him know it.

He wanted to dance first. I felt his cock swell against my belly as I
pressed into him. It was for me. His cum was for me. I wrapped my arms
around his neck and strained against him. I stood on tiptoe and claimed
his mouth, drove my tongue between his parted lips exactly like I wanted
his prick to take me. He finally got the idea. I was no nice girl playing
the dating game. I was a wanton slut who only wanted his meat.

Ellen had guided her partner near us and caught my eye. Her hand was
openly rubbing her man's cock. Her mouth was smeared. Her nipples were
twin bullets trying to tear through her black cocktail dress. Her
gyrations on the dance floor had raised her skirt high enough to expose

the tops of her hose. Her eyes were glowing embers, drilling into me.

I was looking at her while I licked my date's ear and whispered into it.
"I want to suck your cock. I need your cum."

I led him to our car, pushed him into the back seat. My quaking hand
was on his zipper before he was settled against the far door. When I felt
the heat of his long, stiff, smooth cock in my hands, I froze. A wild
thrill ripped up my spine, exploded against the top of my skull, s**ttering
hot sparks everywhere. Time slowed. I watched my lovely hands drag it out
into view. My little fists encircled it, traveled its length, measured its
girth. My mouth filled with saliva. This was

it. The time had come. My head was pulled toward his lap by an
irresistible force.

I already knew what it'd feel like, taste like, look like. There were
no surprises. Far, far back, in the dark corners of my mind, I'd imagined
this all my life. Since puberty, I'd craved this. My passion-heavy red
lips met the tip of his prick, kissed it tenderly, like a long lost lover.

I knew what to do. I knew how to make him as crazy with need as I was.
No born-woman could know what I did about how to please a man.

I made love to a disembodied cock, not the nameless man it was attached
to. I licked and sucked and kissed. I ran him into and out of my mouth,
fondling his heavy, hairy balls, flirting with his ass, occasionally
gasping and shuddering and having to just jack him off as I was consumed
with wild ecstasy.

He came too soon. I almost missed it. I had to lunge down on him as
his groans suddenly changed tone, as I felt his dick harden yet more and
begin its preliminary twitching. My head bobbed up and down, taking as
much splendor into my mouth as I could manage.

When the first gush came, I was ready. I tightened my lips on him and
began my own orgasm as his seed hit the top of my throat with marvelous
force. I wanted to remember each pulse, each gout, each choked swallow -
but I lost track. Specifics faded beneath the groundswell of my

fulfillment. All I recall is drinking him dry, trying to suck him hard
again, and being pushed away.

He was too sensitive, he said. I was hurting him. I didn't care. I
wanted that fine prick in my readied ass. It was literally pulsing with
need. And he wasn't interested. I watched in angry disbelief as he put
his cock away. He said he wasn't into being watched and slipped out the
door behind him.

That was the first indication I had of my wife's presence. I swept my
hair out of my eyes and looked over my shoulder. She was leaning against
the car next to ours fingering her cunt, pinching her carelessly bared
tits. I leaned into the front seat, grabbed the dildo she'd left laying
there. I held it out to her, positioned myself on all fours on the seat.

Ellen lurched forward and took over. The second she drove it between my
ass cheeks, I came again. She blocked my raw scream with her hand and
fucked me with just the savagery I needed. She kept it up even after my
arms collapsed, dropping my face onto the upholstery. She

continued, using both hands, while the seat muffled my choked sobs and
wails. I'm nearly positive I had yet a third orgasm before her arms tired,
but by then I was reduced to delirium. My hips had a life of their own,
kept rolling and thrusting long after the dildo squirted from my hungry
hole and clunked to the floorboard.

8. Chapter - Aftermath

I recall nothing more until Ellen slapped me awake. She was standing
impatiently outside the opened car door.

"Wake up, slut. Time for bed."

I was still in the back seat, but the car was now in our garage. I was
on my back, my knees lifted, with the long dildo hugged tight to my chest.
I awoke with full knowledge of where we'd been, what I'd done. I sucked a
harsh breath and groaned when I tried to move. My ass felt

like the dildo was still inside, heated white hot. The man's cum was
sour in my mouth. An emotion was building in me that I couldn't name.

I saw the next slap coming, but was too sluggish to avoid it.

"I said move, goddamn it!"

I moved. I dragged myself upright. Clambering out of the car and
finding my balance took enormous energy. My compressed, underclad body
weighed tons. I wasn't fast enough for her.

My wife grabbed my long tangled mane and jerked hard. I staggered after
her, off balance, bent forward, flailing my arms to keep from falling.

"You're hurting me," I whined piteously. The back of my mouth was sore
and my jaws ached.

Her only response was to bark a nasty laugh and walk more quickly. The
kitchen again. This time I knew exactly why I was being punished, and
offered no resistance as she put my ankles in a spreader bar I'd never seen
before, cuffed my hands behind me and lifted them toward the

ceiling, bending me into a right angle. She left me there. I was
afraid that I'd collapse and dislocate my shoulders. I hadn't even managed
to adjust to the position before she returned, carrying a full length
mirror. She lowered it to the floor and slid it under me, between my
widely spread legs.

She lit a cigarette. She'd repaired her beautifully sexy face somewhere
along the line. She didn't seem as angry. "Look at yourself, Sheila. I
never want you to forget this."

I was stunned, as if she'd slapped me again. First, of course, I saw my
face. My tangled platinum blonde hair hung down, framing my totally ruined
heavy makeup. My eyes were surrounded by wide black circles of blurred
eyeliner and mascara. The remaining deep emerald and rust eyeshadow looked
bland. My lips looked bruised, were ringed with a wide smear that was all
that remained of my thick lipstick. My false tits looked huge with my
shoulders pinned back. The hem of my wrinkled red minidress had risen, but
I'd have been able to see all the way up anyway from this angle. Where had
the little red panties gone? My retainer dug into the soft flesh of my
groin, hugging my male organs into invisibility. The pale, slim thighs
below were caked with dried cum. My vision swam for a moment. I thought
it was his, that there was a beautiful cunt hidden in there, that it'd
leaked the some of the sperm he'd shot so deeply into my soul.

The stark light of the camera's flash attachment as Ellen photographed
me from every angle jerked me back toward reality.

"Pose for me, baby. Push that great butt out. Can you see how red it
is around your asshole? You were fucked good, whore. Too bad it wasn't
the real thing in there. It'd have felt as good as it did in your throat.
But you know that, right? You wanted it, but the fucker let you down,
didn't he?"

I nodded, remembered to add a verbal "Yes," as well.

"But you know there'll be other times. Any bitch as hot as you are can
get fucked anytime you want. And a nympho cunt like you will want it a
lot. You'll have so many dicks shoved in that tight ass and between those
cocksucking lips that you'll lose count of them."

She fed me the cigarette. I watched my lips suck it, my chest expand as
much as it could given my restraints, then my mouth purse as I exhaled. I
felt her doing something to my left hand, realized she was removing my
wedding band. I'd noted its incongruity once or twice. As

Ellen twisted it off my finger, I realized just how wrong it was to wear
it any longer. Women don't wear wide gold bands. They can't be married
other women in our state. I tried and failed to blink away a rush of
tears. Suddenly, the name of the dull emotion filling me had a name.

It was grief. I was mourning my own death. Ellen's husband was dead,
gone forever. Shamelessly begging to suck that cock, thrilling to each and
every sensation, had sealed his fate, made his resurrection, not merely
unlikely, but impossible. I was Sheila now, body and soul.

I was surprised to feel her doing something else to my ring finger. A
new ring, lighter, thinner, slipped over my knuckle. I strained my neck
but couldn't see it. She slid her hand down my back, cupped my ass cheeks
and petted them.

"How much money do we have in savings?"

Her finger distracted me as it toyed with my tender asshole. Her
question made no sense for a moment. I sniffed away tears enough to speak.
"I, uh, about two thousand, I guess."

"Good. That'll get us started."

"Started?"

"You want real tits, don't you? They cost money, darling. More like
five thousand than two, I think."

Her finger dipped inside me. My eyes locked on the reflection of my
chest in the mirror. Real tits. Nice big, firm mounds hanging there. To
overflow my slinky bras. To fill a bikini top on the beach. To be petted,
sucked and bitten.

Her voice was dim in my ears. She inserted a second finger. "Umm. I
knew that'd turn you on, slut. We'll shave your larynx and change your
voice while we're at it. Maybe someday we'll be able to buy you a nice
tight cunt, too. Have a doctor gut that useless prick and tuck it away

inside you. You'd have three holes, whore. Room for three cocks at the
same time. You'd like that. Three men fucking you. Hands all over you,
driving you crazy with lust."

Her other hand rubbed my too big clit while her fingers wiggled within
me. I was thrusting against her, watching my sleazy lips pant as my
passion again spiraled toward a new peak.

"Oh, honey," I groaned weakly. "Oh, shit. Fuck me, Ellen. Put
something big and fat in me. Something hot and hard. I need it, honey. I
need it bad."

She laughed merrily. "I've got just the thing. I've been saving it for
a special time like this. Ron? Baby, come on in here."

I saw my shock in the mirror more than I felt it. Ron? We had a
neighbor named Ron. A body-builder our age. Married to a dull, silent
girl named Miriam.

Before I could even shape the question in my mind, it was answered. I
saw a pair of hairy, pillar-like legs approach. Barefoot.

"Take over up here," she purred throatily, withdrawing her fingers from
my ass. "I'll get you ready."

Thicker fingers replaced hers, entered me without delicacy. I saw Ellen
sink to her knees, peer at me from between my legs. She licked her
gleaming scarlet lips. Her hands weighed a huge, hairy pair of balls,
massaged a growing cock. Without taking her eyes off me, she kissed its
swelling head, licked it with a lascivious tongue.

"Yeah, I've been fucking Ron for almost a year, Sheila. I love you, but
your puny prick was never enough for me. Fucking you was always more like
screwing a woman with a cock than being with a real man."

Ron laughed at that, making his dick leap in her hand. She gave it a
more lingering kiss, allowing the whole head to enter her mouth, and
moaning around it. Saliva and lipstick clung to it as she let it pop out.

"We fucked with you right in the next room lots of times, Sheila. We
were doing it in the pool house at the Robinson's party when I told him how
much you got off sneaking around in my lingerie. He was the one who
suggested that we bring you out of the closet, cunt. He saw you

staring at his crotch a couple of times and knew how much you'd love
fucking other guys. He helped me plan the whole thing. He deserves a good
fuck, don't you think? He deserves to be the first to dump a wad in your
ass. Give him a good ride, baby."

She guided his swollen, slickened dick between my cheeks. Her eyes
glittered and her lips were parted as she teased me, rubbing the head
around my puckered hole. What she said was true. I'd noticed the size of
his manhood with what I thought was shameful envy. Now I knew

better. It was desire.

My hole was slick and ready. I tried to push against Ron's hard on.
Ellen backed his cock away, continued her maddening flirtation. "Tell him
what you want, Sheila."

From: nostrumo@nienor.IN-Berlin.DE (Nostrumo)

Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.tg

Subject: Repost TG: The Surprise Vacation by an unknown author and
Tristmegistus (5/6)


The_Surprise_Vacation________________by_an_unknown_author_and_Tristmegistus
_ 5

I knew I was doing exactly as she'd said I would. I was begging to be
ass fucked. Without hesitation, I let my needs roll from my slutty mouth.
"Fuck me, Ron. Fuck my ass hard and deep. Please. Give me what you've
been giving Ellen. Cum in me. I need you. I've wanted you ever since I
watched you move in last year. Ram that fat cock all the way in and fuck
me like a whore."

It was nothing like the dildos Ellen had impaled in me. It was hot,
both hard and silky soft - alive! And, it was huge. As he thrust in that
first few inches, I felt myself stretching, and was filled with a burning
agony. If I could have spoken then, I'd have been begging him to stop. I
couldn't. My lips gaped, made a horrified red circle in the mirror. My
heavily made up eyes were huge. Ron yelled in pain and slapped my ass with
a hard, resounding smack. "Relax, cunt! You're hurting me!"

I gasped for breath tried to concentrate on doing what he said. I must
have achieved it, because he slid in deeper, then began a slow pumping.
Each push lessened the pain. The heat of him, the overwhelming fullness of
my ass, felt unlike anything I'd ever known. The mirror

showed his thick shaft disappearing and emerging from my body. Ellen
looked as enraptured as I was. She had one hand in her cunt, was making
wet noises with her fingers. She used the other to alternately hold her
lover's balls and caress my hidden ones.

Overcome with lust, Ron gave up on gentleness. He took my narrow hips
in his hands and pushed hard, forcing the last half of his meat all the way
in. He started slamming into my ass then, without concern for my comfort.
After three of four of his grunting thrusts, I no longer cared. It still
hurt, but the pain became secondary. The sights and sounds and sensations
transported me, mutated the agony, changed it to joy. I started wiggling
my hips, pushed back to greet his plunging cock. I was fucking my wife's
lover, not merely being fucked by him.

It lasted forever and was over too soon. I don't remember Ellen jerking
my retainer off my male organs. I don't know when she started sucking my
straining clit. But I do know that when Ron's pace became frantic, when
his impacts started jarring my teeth and I was positive he was going to
fill me with his cum, I exploded in my wife's hungry mouth with enough
force to gag her.

But, glorious as that was, it paled in significance when Ron blew his
wad in my guts. I closed my eyes. I swear to god I felt his jerking spew
all the way to my throat. I milked him, did my best to squeeze every drop
of his precious sperm from him.

As his pulsing diminished, I felt soft lips on mine, tasted the tangy
cum coating them. I returned Ellen's impassioned kiss, sucked my cum from
her full mouth.

Finally, I was whole.

"Thank you," I murmured into her mouth, making our kiss tender, more
loving than I'd known a kiss could be.

My knees were too weak to support me. When they collapsed, my shoulders
were wrenched hideously. Had Ron not still been gripping my hips, I'd have
dislocated them both. He held me up, his cock shrinking rapidly in my ass,
while Ellen stumbled to her feet and dashed for the

rope. As she released it, our lover lowered me to the cold mirror. I
felt his jism leaking from my hole, warm and sticky, as he pulled out. One
of them freed my arms from the handcuffs.

I lay there on my side, frail and helpless, while Ellen and Ron
embraced. Her hand massaged his limp dick while he crushed her against him
and she strained against his hard lips.

She tore her mouth from his. "I want you," she growled. "It's my
turn." She jerked her head to face me. "Get him hard for me, slut."

She led him by the dick to me, pushed him down toward my face. I bathed
his spent flesh in hot, wet, hungry kisses, tenderly took it into my mouth
and nursed on it, felt it begin to swell, fill my cavity. The second prick
to visit my mouth tasted nothing like the first, felt even better. But
Ellen deprived me of it as soon as I'd gotten it hard. She positioned
herself on her hands and knees beside me, guided the pole in her hand
between spread thighs. Her eyes closed blissfully

as he entered her. I reached out and started squeezing her dangling
tits. Ron batted my hands away and grabbed them himself, using them for
handles as he rode her, just as savagely as he had me.

His violent thrusts moved her face closer to me. When her eyes opened,
they were glassy with lust. She attacked my mouth with hers, grunted into
me each time he hammered her. When she started cumming, she bit my lower
lip. Each time she spasmed, she bit harder. When he suddenly

stopped, she whined in shock and need.

His voice was a snarl. "Slide under your cunt of a wife, bitch. Lick
my balls while I fuck her. See how a real woman takes a dick."

I scrambled to obey. I not only kissed and sucked his balls, I also
flicked my tongue over Ellen's swollen clit, lapped the fluids that
overflowed her pussy. Her lips were on my organ again, lapping the cum
that'd oozed from my ass. I was still so loose that her tongue actually
entered me. I humped her face like the wanton slut I was. I had no more
boundaries. A lifetime of limits, of denial, rolled off me like a shed
skin. I embraced my new existence, fit both Ron's tender balls between
widely opened lips and rolled my wife's clit with unabashed abandon.

She began another series of orgasms, had to give up my little dick in
order to howl and scream. I released Ron's testicles when I felt them
tighten. It was astounding to see his huge rod swell and throb and fill
her twitching cunt with another load of cum. As it leaked past her labia,
I devoured it, eliciting still more shrieks from her. Ron jerked out and
rolled away, gasping for breath. I devoured her vacated hole, and she
continued to cum, continued to shrilly cry out,

wracked by spasms I refused to let end.

Finally, sobbing, she fell on top of me, moving her throbbing groin out
of reach.

A sated, warm relaxation enveloped me. I only vaguely recall the chill
when Ellen rolled off me. She and Ron spoke softly, but I could make no
sense of their words. I sank into a deep peaceful sleep.

9. Chapter - Awakening

There was a vague noise. It was dark. The bed was far too hard, too
cold. I was curled into a tight ball. When I began to roll over, I was
ripped by pain. My ass. My jaws. My shoulders. I moaned.

"Wake up, whore." The ceiling light flared blindingly.

Memory filled me, and my pain was explained. I was still on the kitchen
floor.

Ellen leaned against the doorframe, smoking. She wore only high heels
and hose. Her nipples were swollen. Bite marks decorated the slope of her
tits. Her makeup was mostly gone. What remained made her look cheap, used
- and beautiful.

I tried to speak. My throat was dry, raw, emitted only a croak.

"Ron went home," she explained. "We're through with the bed. Get your
sleazy ass up there."

I was afraid I'd have to crawl up the stairs, but somehow managed to
climb painfully to my feet. I used the walls to keep myself erect and
followed her swaying ass and trail of smoke.

She released me from the corset and made me sleep in the huge wet spot
they'd left on the sheets. Each breath filled me with the perfume of their
fucking. I'd been good enough to earn a night in bed. No chains. The
world faded again.

It was still dark when I awoke, my bowels and bladder both demanding
relief. I eased Ellen's arm off me and tiptoed into the bathroom. It hurt
so much that I was afraid I was shitting blood, but my stool looked
perfectly normal. Wiping was agonizing. I shuddered a little, remembering
how huge Ron had felt in me, and hoped that being fucked wasn't always
going to hurt so much.

I steeled myself before using the mirror, but the glass wasn't the enemy
it had been. Even without the corset, I was able to convince myself that
my image was that of an undeveloped - rather, a developing - woman. Those
sweet lips had hosted two cocks after all, and the

dimpled ass had taken its first prick. I squeezed and lifted my chest.
If I continued to please Ellen, my tits would grow into firm globes like
hers. Men could suck them, slide their greased dicks between them as I
pressed them together. I'd could kiss the cock heads at the top of their
thrusts, watch them swell and eject their sperm all over my face.

I renewed my vow to be good and fought down the urge to stroke my hard
clit.

I was ready to turn off the light and go back to bed when I finally
noticed the ring. Where my wedding band had been was a small diamond
engagement ring. A stab of sadness knifed me, the grief that'd been cut
off before. I hurriedly flicked off the light, but the emotion wasn't so
easily banished. It clung to me like stale sperm, refusing to allow me to
get back to sleep.

Mourning my own death was hard. There was no corpse to shed tears over,
nothing to bury so the healing could begin. I lay there until Ellen awoke.
I went through the motions of bathing, dressing, applying my makeup,
fetching and carrying for her on command. If she noticed my

silent anguish, she made no comment.

After I'd done the breakfast dishes, she had me give us both manicures.
She was surly, terse, easily upset. She smoked heavily and her every word
dripped with scorn. Nothing I did was quite good enough. I was extremely
cautious, not wanting to do anything to upset her further. A

sinking feeling was added to my vague sorrow. Something was wrong. She
left me to do my chores and vanished into our bedroom.

It was a little after two in the afternoon when she came downstairs,
dressed to kill in the wet looking black minidress and metal-tipped
stiletto heels. Her makeup and bearing were those of a *********. I was
nearly finished mopping the kitchen floor. She stood close enough to let
me see that, as before, her shaven cunt was exposed between her mesh hose
and garter belt. I felt plain in my work clothes and minimal makeup.

"I'm going out. I want you to meet me in the airport Hilton bar at
eight. Wear something really slutty, Sheila. There's someone I want you
to meet."

"Are you ..." I swallowed. "Is Ron ..."

"This has nothing to do with Ron, darling. It's strictly for us. But
it's very important - maybe the most important date you'll ever have - so
look your best. Understand?"

I let my eyes fall from her moist pussy back to the vinyl. "Do you have
to go so early? I mean -"

Her smoky laugh was sharp enough to interrupt me. "Is my little fag
bitch scared to be alone? Or just jealous that I may be getting my brains
fucked out while you're doing housework?"

I blushed. "You've never left me by myself before."

"Of course I have, love. At the beauty salon, and right here in this
room. You've spent hours all by yourself. Your chains and ropes are just
invisible now." She stroked my long hair, pulled my head against her belly,
rubbed my cheek over her sleekly covered mons. "Would you like to kiss my
pussy goodbye? Get it nice and moist for the cock that may be in it in a
while?"

I nodded. She planted her feet to either side of my head. I slid the
skirt up and exposed her brown-lipped lower mouth. She rocked up and down
on my tongue and nose until my face was wet with her flow. As I ate her, I
was overcome with desire. She was going out, going to get herself laid for
some mysterious purpose, and I was preparing her for whoever would part
these very lips with a prick. I wondered how often she'd done this sort of
thing without my knowledge. I wondered how many men had fucked her eager
pussy while I watched a stupid football games or stayed late at the office.
I wondered if Ron knew what a slut she was. And, I wondered who she'd
fixed me up with, who'd be fucking my ass or mouth in a few hours - and why
it was so important.

She abruptly jerked her flooded core from my hungry mouth, ending my
lusty reverie. Her voice was low and throaty. "Take off your blouse,
baby. I need to tighten your corset before I leave."

It was the red one. As she strained against the laces, compressing my
waist to at least twenty-two inches, I was already visualizing what I'd
wear to meet her. How many loads of cum would her body have absorbed by
the time I arrived? A sudden thought stopped my impassioned

planning. "How will I get there? To the hotel?"

"A cab, of course. I left twenty dollars on the vanity."

Somehow the idea of taking a taxi was more intimidating than getting
dressed to go fuck some stranger. I tried to hide my nerves, as well as my
shameful excitement. Her crooked scarlet smile told me I failed at both.
She tied off my laces, smoothed her dress to cover as much as it could, and
swayed out without another word. I listened as her metal shod heels
clacked over the floor, silently crossed the carpet, then echoed for a few
strides in the garage. The door ground open. I

watched from the window as she backed down the drive, cigarette dangling
between slick, fat red lips. I saw Jerome Hillyard, our neighbor across
the street, stare open mouthed at the change that'd taken place in her.
Had he done more than stare? Had she fucked him, too? How many of our
neighbors had dipped their wicks in Ellen's hot hole? A lot of them, I
perversely hoped, twisting the engagement band circling my ring finger.

I fought the urge to dash upstairs and begin getting ready. It was too
soon. And Ellen had made it clear that she expected all my work to be done
before I left the house. I compelled myself to settle down and do the
laundry.

I'd barely fixed my lipstick and gotten started when the doorbell rang.
I froze in the midst of loading the dryer with damp lingerie. I couldn't
answer the door! What if it was Jerome, or some other acquaintance? I
couldn't let anybody see me like this! I decided to ignore it, pretend I
wasn't home. But whoever was there leaned insistently on the buzzer.

I peeked from the laundry room window, was simultaneously thrilled and
dismayed to see that it was Ron. I was hesitant to let him in without
Ellen there. He'd want to know where she'd gone, what she was doing. He
was liable to fly into a jealous rage. But he obviously wasn't

going to leave.

Checking my face in the mirror, I fluffed my hair a little and hurried
nervously to the door. I wouldn't let him in. I'd tell him we were busy,
that I'd have Ellen call as soon as she could.

But, the instant I opened the door a crack, he pushed it wider and
stepped past me.

"Ellen's busy," I blurted, hiding behind the door, leaving it open.
"Maybe you should come back -"

"Ellen's gone. I saw the car drive up the block a few minutes ago." He
ambled insolently to the couch and sat down.

"Then what ..." I began, but my voice failed me. Was he here to see me?

"Close the door and come over here, bitch. I've been thinking about
that tight asshole of yours all day. I want another piece of it."

I blushed, both fearful and flattered. I was sure Ellen wouldn't want
him to use me unless she was here to watch. He was her boyfriend, after
all. "I don't think that's a good idea, Ron." I kept the door cracked.

"Oh, come off it, slut! Don't play hard to get. We both know that's
pure bullshit. You know you want it. You let me know last night how much
you liked it. So get your sleazy ass over here. Wrap those hot lips
around my dick and let me fuck that sexy face. If you're real good, I may
even let you jack off while I drill your ass."

He was right, of course. I did want it. I had the instant I saw him
through the window. I vividly remembered how grand it'd been to be filled,
stretched, used like I was a real woman. Honestly, part of his
attractiveness was because he was Ellen's lover. Having the prick that'd
been in her so many times rammed into me made me feel even more weak kneed.
It'd be wicked to fuck him behind her back. But, if I got caught ...

Wickedness won out. Besides, if I resisted, he'd just take me anyway.
What could I do? Call the police and scream ****? Run madly from the
house? I leaned against the door and flipped the deadbolt.

He wasn't into small talk or foreplay. As I approached, both eager and
timid, Ron pointed to the floor between his legs. I sank to my knees,
staring at the growing lump hidden by his shorts. It knew how large it
was, what it tasted like. And this time, I didn't have to share it with
anyone. I was alone with my first man. I was betraying Ellen just like
she had me. I was as big a whore as she was. Saliva began to fill my
mouth.

But I wanted information along with his dick. I wanted to know how
large a role he'd played in changing me into the cock hungry bitch I'd
become in less than a week. So, as I reached out to lightly massage his
cock, I licked my lips and tried to milk him of more than his cum.

"I meant to thank you last night for everything you've done to help
Ellen."

His laugh was brutal. "Jesus. I can't believe you're really into it
this much. How can any man let this happen to him without a fight?"

I slowly lowered his zipper. "I'm not just any man," I told his
swelling groin. "I've always been a wimp. I think I've wanted to be like
this all my life, but never had the courage to admit it. I thought you
knew that."

"Not until Ellen told me about how much you got off on her clothes and
shit."

My hand reached his flesh. It was so warm, so silky. "I wish she'd
told you sooner. How long did you two plan this?"

He drew a harsh breath as I fished his manhood from his underwear and
loose shorts. It was beautiful. It nestled against my curved red nails
like an eager pet begging to be stroked.

"Six months or so, I guess. God, you're sexy. Kiss it, bitch."

I teased the head with my tongue. I wanted the whole thing buried in my
throat, but was enraptured with the power of my situation. Ellen had made
me beg. Ron had, too, the night before. I wanted to turn the tables. He
already wanted me, but I needed him to crave me, to plead with me.

"Tell me about it. It's so exciting, Ron. I want to hear everything."

While I tinted his cock flesh with my brilliant lip color, while I
licked his hairy sack, I prompted him to keep talking.

"I knew the look," he groaned. "Guys have been looking at my dick in
the shower, just the way you did, ever since I was a k**. I knew right off
you were a fag, and couldn't figure out why a gorgeous bitch like Ellen
stayed with you. Ooh, shit. Deeper, baby."

I tried to angle my head, to fit more of him between my bulging lips.
Pink saliva glistened the length of his rod. It felt like my mouth had
been designed to do this. "More," I gasped. "Tell me more."

"Ahh! That's it!" he groaned as my questing lips took more meat,
stretched to reach for his balls. His hips started to rise and fall.
"Ellen laughed when I told her how you looked at me. That's when she
started watching you closer and caught you messing around in her shit. I
told her I thought you'd make a hot looking slut. God, was I ever right!
Oh, yeah! Suck it, baby!"

I was thrilled beyond words when my throat seemed to open and I
swallowed him. My smeared lips nestled at the very root of his prick. I'd
done it! I stayed there, immobile but for my spasming throat and questing
lips, until black motes swam before my eyes and I was compelled to release
him and gasp air. I stared down in astonishment at his glistening eight
inches. I was ready to cum. I resisted the impulse to reach down and
touch myself and rocket into heaven. I wanted this to last. I wanted to
hear more. I was certain I could make him tell me whatever I wanted.

"You wanted me, too," I purred, lapping the length of his staff with my
tongue. "You've always wanted me to suck your cock, haven't you?"

"Yeah. I knew you'd be good. Almost every time I fucked Ellen, I
dreamed of you looking like this, doing this. I wanted to hurry things
along. Your bitch of a wife insisted we had to go slow."

"Umm," I said, taking him half way in then backing off. "Good things
come to those who wait, lover. Am I as good as she is?"

"Better," he growled, grabbing my hair and jerking my head down. Now
that I knew how, I let him impale every wonderful inch into me. "She won't
let me fuck her ass, and deep throat makes her puke."

He humped my mouth until I was afraid I was going to pass out. I had to
struggle free. My voice was raw. I felt crazed by my need for what was
happening. But there was still a glimmer of caginess left in me, as if it
was part of my widening lust. "You can do anything you want

to me. I don't care. The dirtier and nastier, the better. I love
being treated like a cheap whore. Was that your idea, too?"

"Yeah. Nothing turns my crank more than sluts in tight dresses and wild
makeup. The first time I made Ellen dress up for me, I fucked her for four
hours non-stop. I made her cum until she begged me to quit. She loved it,
too. I knew she would. Anybody who wanted to turn her old man into a
fucking woman had to be really twisted. Turns out she couldn't get enough
after that."

I was pumping him with both hands, letting my mouth writhe over the top
half of his erection. I didn't know how much more I could take. My
sphincter muscles were tightening and loosening on my butt plug. My ass
felt moist, more than ready.

"Did you make her fuck other guys? Did you make her dress cheap and
take her out and show her off?"

He was close to losing control. "We went to parties. It was her idea.
But she never hosed anybody else. I wondered if maybe she wanted to, but
it ever happened. I let her flirt, dance, make them hot, then I'd take her
into a bedroom and fuck her stupid. We'd go back and party

some more and my cum would be running down her legs." He struggled up in
the sofa, tried to pry me off his cock. "Has she been fucking around? Has
she?"

"No!" I insisted, kissing just the head of his hard treasure. "Of
course not! You keep her so well fucked, how could she?"

"Have you fucked her, slut? Have you poked that little dick of your
inside her pussy?"

I pulled on his cock and backed away from the sofa. "Not for almost a
month - and never again. I eat her whenever she wants. I can make her cum
with my tongue better than I ever could the other way. Come here, Ron.
I'm so fucking hot. My ass needs you so bad. Fuck me. Please. Fill my
hot little ass with that huge thing. Make me scream. Fuck me hard and
mean and shoot your cum way, way up inside me. Tell me what's going to
happen next, baby."

He stroked himself, staring at me with burning eyes while I wiggled out
of my tight jeans. I'm not even sure he knew he was speaking.

"She going to do like she said. She's going to get you tits. Make you
get a job as a woman. She says she's got friends who can help."

I curled my legs up toward my chest, spread my ass cheeks so he could
see me remove my plug. The sensation of having him watch me readying
myself for him was a thrill as intense as swallowing his entire length had
been. He was so big, so strong. I was weak and small - yet I was in
control.

He leapt toward me, rolled me over onto my stomach. "Wait," I
whispered. "I want this to be good. The best you've ever had, Ron. I want
to make my asshole slick and wet for you. I want to lube myself with my
cum. When you fuck me, it'll be like fucking myself."

I had him hypnotized. I relished having my ass raised for him, peeling
away my retainer, exposing my purpled, lust heavy cock and balls. I knew
something he didn't. He was as gay as I was. He wanted me more than he
ever wanted Ellen. I could have made him suck me, as I had him - but a sly
part of me knew that if I did, I'd lose control of him. He'd be too
sickened by what he'd done to ever be nice to me again. He needed to
believe he was the neighborhood's straight, macho, musclebound hunk. So, I
gripped myself, tickled myself with my long painted nails and teased him
yet more. I bent my rod back and imagined it was sliding up my ass. It
only took a few moments. I gasped, with my inflamed cheek pressed into the
carpet, while I pumped sticky

streams toward my back door and rubbed my sperm into my tender flesh,
dipping my fingers into my loosened asshole, pushing as much cum as I could
inside myself.

My voice was hollow with need. "Do it, Ron. Fuck me. Do it now."

I took him much easier than I had the first time. There was no pain or
chain to distract me. Like my mouth, my ass now seemed designed for cock.
I revelled in the spoils of my seduction, the depth of his hammering
thrusts. I had more power as a woman than I'd ever had as a man. My body
had become a real tool for pleasure. Cindy had given me my retainer in
return for sexual favors and told me how fantastic I was. The man I'd
sucked at the bar had paid me with a drink and cigarettes in return for the
blowjob of his life. I'd wrapped Ron around my painted pinky. I was
beginning to think I might be able to manipulate Ellen, if I was careful.

Ron's pummelling was taking its toll on me. My cock had rehardened.
When I angled my hips just right, it felt like he was fucking the inside of
my overgrown clit. Sharp electric bolts tore through me, and all thoughts
were buried beneath the cascade of sensation. When he howled and filled my
guts with his cream, I jerked and spewed in sympathy. He collapsed atop
me, his mass pinning me to the carpet. Being held and having my neck
kissed between his ragged breaths was

almost as rewarding as being fucked.

"You are one fine lay, cunt," he sighed into my ear. "We'll have to do
this again."

I carefully squeezed my buttocks together, caressing his still buried
dick. "Any time, darling. But right now, I'd better get up and get back
to my housework or Ellen's going to be really pissed."

"Speaking of the queen cunt, what's she up to?"

"She didn't say," I lied. I was protecting her. Ron was obviously
unaware he wasn't her only source of cock. He may or may not have been the
one to awaken in her a taste for tight dresses and heavy makeup, but I was
ninety-nine percent certain that today wasn't her first solo foray into the
world of bar sex. The only reason she hadn't gotten laid the night before
was because she needed to watch me get it so badly.

"Maybe it'd be a good idea not to mention that I dropped by," he said as
he raised his hips, freeing his limp meat with a soft sound that echoed
inside me.

I felt empty. My ass clutched around nothingness. Well, not quite. I
felt his cum oozing from my still opened hole. "Whatever you say, Ron."
Another rush made me shiver. It was almost time to wrap myself in the red
outfit, paint my face as nastily as I knew how, climb in a cab and go to a
hotel bar. I felt hot all over, and eager for Ron to leave.

Luckily, he was ready to go, too. A thought struck me as he rolled me
over for a farewell kiss to my smeared mouth. "Could you do me a little
favor before you go?" I asked him between tastes of his mouth.

"Sure."

"Help me change shoes. I still can't reach my ankles very well when I'm
in my corset." I smiled inwardly. Would Ellen wonder how I'd managed this
trick? "And, while you're here, maybe you could tighten my laces a little.
They seem to have worked loose somehow," I giggled.

I didn't complain that he overdid the tightening a little, reducing my
waist to closer to twenty inches, swelling what little tits I had even
more. After he strapped the towering red heels to my slim ankles, I reached
up and kissed him goodbye, feeling his prick already stirring against my
tiny belly. The fact that I could do that to a man who'd just cum inside
me a few minutes before made me feel very good. I was a foxy little slut.
Everybody who saw me would want me, and I wanted

to be desired, to be lusted after.

So, the instant I locked the door behind my lover, I cleaned up the cum
staining the carpet, but decided to take a risk and forget about my other
tasks, despite the consequences. I had much more important things to take
care of.

10. Chapter - Changes

My heart was hammering wildly by the time the taxi pulled into the
drive. I'd asked the dispatcher to make sure the driver didn't honk, but
apparently he hadn't gotten the word, because he did anyway, long and loud.
The entire neighborhood was alerted, no doubt peeking out their windows to
see what was going on. Horrified, I debated what to do. The cabbie again
leaned on the horn. Waiting was only going to make it worse. I bolted
from the front door, praying I wouldn't be recognized for what I was.

My prayer was ignored. Nosy Jerome, across the street, was plainly
visible, again drop-jawed. First he'd witnessed Ellen's departure, clad in
her skintight black minidress and wearing ten pounds of makeup. Now, some
strange woman - me, her lighter twin - in just as few clothes

and just as much makeup. The proverbial cat was probably out of the
bag.

I was mildly surprised by how little I cared. Unless relocation was in
Ellen's plans, the neighbors would no doubt see much more of me in the
future. I was absolutely determined that my two week vacation would
stretch out to encompass the rest of my life. I settled into the seat

and crossed my legs.

The driver was watching me in the mirror. I favored him with a bright
smile. He apparently wasn't used to picking up women who looked like
streetwalkers in such a respectable part of the city. I knew exactly what
my clinging, flame red dress, shimmering platinum blonde mane, and

gaudy makeup made me look like.

Being outside the house without Ellen was almost s much fun as fucking
without her at my side. I felt free to do whatever I wanted. I teased the
driver to distraction with my legs and lips, pretending I was ignorant of
what I was doing to him. But, when I leaned forward to ask him for a
cigarette, I saw the tent his erection was making in his pants. I toyed
with the idea of sucking him off rather than paying ******** my fare, but I
didn't find him all that attractive, and I wasn't very horny. Besides, I
was already nearly late and didn't want to risk Ellen's wrath.

As it turned out, it wouldn't have mattered a whole lot. I was slowed
by fear the moment I stepped from the cab. This was a very busy place.
Travelers were leaving and arriving as if this hotel was the airport
itself. My newly discovered confidence was shaken by the hustle and

bustle. I tapped into the bar, feeling scrutinized by thousands of
eyes. It was packed, of course. I scanned the tables and barstools
nervously and found no sign of Ellen. No tables were vacant, although by
the looks I was getting, I could have joined any number of solo males. I
opted for the view a seat at the bar would give me.

I stood out radically in the somberly dressed mob. The dim light didn't
seem to dull my screaming red dress, and I felt like my long silver-blonde
tresses reflected every bit of available light. For the first time since
Ellen had left, I missed her. Had she been there at my side, I'd have
revelled in the attention that saturated me. Instead, I felt vulnerable,
exposed - and scared.

I spent the last of my twenty dollars on a glass of wine. I wouldn't
have had to, of course. There was very little I'd have ever had to buy for
myself, dressed like that in a hotel bar. While that notion thrilled me
more than a little, it did nothing to banish my uneasiness. Where was
Ellen?

I rebuffed three thinly veiled offers of "a drink or something," and my
rejections earned me a little space. Apparently, I wasn't the readily
available bar girl I appeared, they must have reasoned. My self-confidence
began to return. But the fourth voice in my ear startled me when the man
it belonged to called me by name.

"You must be Sheila," came the gutturally accented baritone.

I stared for a long, uncomfortable moment. He was tall and thin, with a
mop of unkempt blondish hair. He slouched and his tie was crooked, making
his suit look too expensive for him.

If I'd been able to maintain the mood Ron left me in, feeling as brazen
as my outfit, I'd have smiled provocatively and come back with something
witty. Instead, I blurted, "Where's Ellen?" acting as

insecure as I felt.

His smile was mysterious. At least I was able to identify his accent as
Germanic. "I am Hans. Ellen is upstairs in a meeting and has asked you to
join us." He performed one of those silly little stiff continental
half-bows and offered me his arm.

Upstairs meant a hotel room. My throat tightened and my clit gave a
little lurch. I stood, nervously smoothed my skirt, and tried to take his
elbow like I'd been doing it all my life. It was a curiously pleasing
sensation to be e*****ed so formally back through the bar and lobby toward
the elevators. My mind was spinning. Meeting? What exactly did that
mean? It was an odd term, applied to Ellen the way she'd acted when she
left me that afternoon. The only business she'd

acted capable of transacting was on her back with her legs flung wide.

I was staggered. Literally. Hans gave me a concerned look as he pushed
the call button. I feigned a reassuring smile. Was that it? Was Ellen
selling her cunt? The conversation in the bar in the mall replayed itself.
The one about her cigarettes. What if, she'd said, she'd been dressing and
making herself up like that and "going out" for six months - about the time
she and Ron had hatched their plot. I'd assumed then that she'd been
trying to hurt me. While I'd sucked Ron's

dick, I'd imagined that there'd been some truth to her hypothetical
statement, that he'd uncovered in her a desire to look and act like a
tramp. But I hadn't imagined she'd actually whore herself. Surely, I'd
have known. Ruefully, I admitted that I hadn't known anything about my
wife until a week ago.

The dinging arrival of the elevator jolted me from my reverie. In the
close confines of the metal box, my e***** smelled of liquor and tobacco. A
quick craving for a cigarette grabbed me.

Speaking took effort. "Excuse me, Hans. May I have a cigarette?"

They were imported. He made no comment about the no smoking sign as he
lit it for me. The lighter was an ornate gold thing that matched the case
in which he kept his tobacco. It was harsh and oddly satisfying. My
lipstick was almost invisible against the dark brown paper.

I kept my voice going. "Uh, what kind of 'meeting' is this?"

He nodded, frowning slightly, as if confirming something. "As I
thought, she hasn't discussed this with you. Your friend has been in
contact with myself and several of my colleagues for a number of months."
His voice registered deep disapproval.

Ellen had introduced herself as my friend? To discuss what? Instead of
asking those questions, I quickly reassured him. "She and I are very
close. I'm sure she meant this as a surprise."

His expression softened. "In that case, perhaps I have said too much?"

I squeezed his bicep, gave him a soft smile. "It'll be our secret."

His thin lips curved upwards and his eyes more or less politely measured
by body. "As you wish. I must say, you seem quite well adjusted."

I felt myself pale. He knew about the secret between my legs. I was
confused. Should I feel betrayed or flattered? I took smoke very
carefully to cover my embarrassment. The elevator door opened at the top
floor. Again I accepted his arm. The far wall of the hall was mirrored. I
saw an extremely sexy little blonde woman, clad in fuck-me red, on the arm
of a tall thin man. She was gorgeous, in a brazen way, but her visible
discomfort was spoiling her desirability.

From: nostrumo@nienor.IN-Berlin.DE (Nostrumo)

Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.tg

Subject: Repost TG: The Surprise Vacation by an unknown author and
Tristmegistus (6/6)

6
_The_Surprise_Vacation_______________by_an_unknown_author_and_Tristmegistus
_

Angry at myself, I hugged my e*****'s arm more tightly, deliberately
pressed my thigh to his as we walked down the hall. He squeezed my arm and
smiled. He knew, but he didn't mind being close to me. Was he the
"special friend" I was to meet? Was I being nice enough to him? And,

above all, was he going to fuck me? If Ellen was whoring herself, was
she going to sell my holes to this man and his "colleagues?" My belly
hollowed, not entirely with fear.

I was anticipating a sordid scene as Hans turned to face a door and
swung it open. My throat was tight. Would the room be filled with men?
Maybe I'd see Ellen on her hands and knees, sucking one cock while being
fucked by another, or ...

What I was presented with was even more shocking. Ellen sat at the head
of a table with three men. They were examining papers, not her pussy. Her
makeup and hair weren't mussed. I felt a shameful stab of disappointment.
She glanced up from what she was reading, and the room fell silent as all
eyes focused on me.

They weren't the kind of looks I was growing accustomed to. They were
cold, clinical, examining me more like a side of beef than a target of
lust. I felt like a fool. Ellen had set me up, led me to believe that I
was coming here to get laid - and I'd eagerly leapt at the chance to

open my orifices to whoever wanted them.

A blast of raw sanity ripped through me. I saw myself as I was, for the
first time in days. I wasn't a woman. I was a married male with a dark,
newly revealed, twisted taste for cock. I was a sham, a parody, a pathetic
joke. My sickness had filled me. I'd given myself over to it. I'd
embraced my depravity, wanting to believe I'd had no choice. I'd lied to
myself all the way along. If I'd really wanted to, I could have resisted
Ellen's dominance and torture. I'd had more

opportunities than I could count to stubbornly say no, to insist that
this charade end. I hadn't, purely because I'd craved every last moment of
what had happened to me. I'd needed the excuses her coercion provided.

All this in one of those wordless insights that take up such a paltry
amount of clock time, yet change everything. Ellen was just beginning to
part her lips and introduce me. Her associates, or whatever they were, had
yet to complete their scan of me. In that mere instant, I'd shed my slutty
horniness and was wallowing in full-blown despair.

A strange numbness kept the scene at a distance. It was like I was
floating somewhere near the ceiling, emotionlessly observing what was going
on below as if it was happening to someone else. I mechanically took the
chair Hans held for me. I saw my legs cross, felt the casual smile on my
lips. Shouldn't I be crying, I remember wondering, almost idly? I sensed
that this was probably one of the most critical moments of my life and was
astonished by the feeling of peace enveloping me.

They were all European physicians specializing in various aspects of
gender re-assignment. Ellen had sought them out months before. They were
there to assess me. If I passed their examinations, I was to become a
woman.

In my altered state of consciousness, I felt no qualms, no hesitation. I
basked in the glow of Ellen's proud smile. Yes, I quietly insisted, this
is what I wanted, with all my heart. No, there was no chance I'd regret
such a momentous decision. I was committed. No, I didn't need

the traditional year of living in female guise to be sure. I was ready,
right then.

The interview took three gruelling hours. Two of the doctors had mild
reservations, but I swayed the other two, Hans and a younger Frenchman man
named Jordan. I didn't, of course, leap on an airplane and fly to Denmark
to have my cock made into a cunt, although nothing would have made me
happier. There were arrangements to be made - and finances to be arranged.
It was agreed, though, that I'd receive breast implants in the near future.

Ellen invited them to stay for drinks. Jordan and Hans accepted, and
Ellen called room service while I stepped into the suite's bedroom to
freshen up. As I touched up my face, I began to exit the trance-like state
I'd been wrapped in, and the reality of my choice took hold. It wasn't
fear that emerged, but excitement. A shiver rippled through me as I stared
at the pale flesh of my cleavage and the twin swells below. In ten days,
my corset would embrace living flesh, not molded latex. I could flaunt
them with even deeper necklines. Men could suck them, pinch them, slide
their pricks between them.

My sharp, curved nails worked my false nipples and my real ones
stiffened in sympathy. The thrill settled in, became heat. When the door
opened and Ellen slid through, I was still standing before the mirror,
seeing myself as I was to become. In my mind, I was already a woman, not a
cross-dressed fag slut.

She walked up behind me, encircled my waist with her arms, and hugged
me. I settled against her with a sigh, nestled my head in the cup of her
shoulder, feeling the softness of her tit against my neck.

"You liked my little surprise?" she whispered.

I nodded, nuzzling her tit.

"Would you like to thank Jordan and Hans for their kindness?"

My belly hollowed. "Do you think they'd like that?"

"That's why they stayed, darling."

"To fuck me?"

"To fuck both of us."

She was right. For the first time, I experienced the delirious pleasure
of giving a blow job while having my ass filled, and watching Ellen receive
identical treatment. The only thing about the following hours I didn't
enjoy was being stripped of my corset, having my distinctly masculine body
made love to by Jordan. I hid behind my long silver hair, stared at my
lovely hands while he fucked my ass, cursing hoarsely in French.

They left us around three a.m. I fell asleep in the hotel room bed,
curled in Ellen's arms, after lapping every bit of cum I could reach from
her pussy and ass and mouth. I was more content than I knew I could be.
Three man had enjoyed my body that day. All of them had known everything
there was to know about me, and lusted after me anyway. As I sank into
sleep, I dimly realized that for the first time I was completely unashamed
of what I was.

I awoke disoriented. It took a few seconds to realize where I was. The
bed beside me was empty, but the faint sound of the shower emanating from
the bathroom told me where Ellen was. I stretched, relishing the faint
soreness of my ass. I'd been penetrated there four times, had wildly
humped the men riding me, and felt almost no distracting discomfort. I
fingered myself. My hole was loose and moist. I was ready for more. I
rolled to my feet and padded in to join Ellen in the shower. There wasn't
a cock in the room, so I settled for a pussy, backing my companion into a
corner of the stall, eating her until her knees went weak and she tried to
pull my entire

head into her slit.

I felt so beautiful as I dressed and made myself up that I was almost in
tears. I wanted everyone to know. I wanted to be stared at, desired,
seduced. Ellen's mood was much more reserved, but I barely noticed. I
felt free, in an all new way. I was ecstatically aware, as we made our way
back to the car, of the wide sway of my ass and the bounce of my tits. I
was totally at ease with the way my every move was watched, and easily met
the eyes of those staring at me.

I didn't catch Ellen's anger until we were well on our way home, and
even then she had to slap me with it.

"You're nothing but a fucking tramp," she spat with venom after I'd
favored another driver with a wide red smile.

I was shocked by the depth of her rage. I studied the floorboard. "I'm
sorry. I just feel -"

"Nothing to be sorry about, bitch. You are what you are. Actually, I'm
pleased. It'll make what we have to do a lot easier if I don't have to
force you." She didn't sound pleased.

I drew on my cigarette, nervously rubbed at the lipstick on the filter.
"What do we have to do?" I asked very quietly.

Her laugh was a harsh bark. "We have to make a lot of money for your
surgery."

I stared blankly at her for a moment, then looked out the window. I
didn't want her to see my smile. There weren't many ways to raise the
three thousand dollars we needed in ten days. I was going to be a very
busy girl for a while. The only question in my mind was if she was going
to whore herself on bar stools beside me. I hoped so. I really liked
sharing with her.

End















http://www.*****.org/files/Collections/Old_Joe%27s_Collection/TG/Femdom/Domination%20of%20Jason%20-%20Mule.txt

The Domination of Jason


This is simply one long rambling story divided in to six parts in
a vaguely logical manner so it doesn't come across as one 1,500
line file. There is very little actual sex in this story, but
there are some descriptions of scenes and techniques that may be
of interest to some people in their role playing.

Domination of Jason
Chapter 1

"Oh, my God," I exclaimed, "what are you doing?" It was perfectly
obvious what Jason, my husband, was doing. He was playing with
himself!

I had just finished the laundry and was putting the linens and
towels away. I entered the bathroom to put some fresh towels on
the rack when I surprised my husband as he was kneeling in front
of the toilet manipulating his organ.

I had suspected that he was up to something all along as he would
frequently lock himself in the bathroom. I thought it odd that
after being married several years that he would still be
squeamish about his bathroom habits.

Apparently, he forgot to lock the door this time. He stopped and
became very red in the face when I came in.

I put the towels on the vanity and left without saying another
word.

Jason got out of the bathroom and tried to explain, "Honey, I..."

I cut him off, "I don't want to talk about it. I don't know what
to think. You think you were a teenager. You ought to be ashamed
of yourself. Get out of my sight."

He disappeared into the garage to tinker which is what he does
whenever he's in the doghouse. I yelled a departing shot at him,
"And don't even think about sex with me for at least a week!". I
didn't care that it was spring and the windows were open.

For the rest of the week I didn't even let him touch me in bed.
For the rest of the week, he was more subdued and fawning over me
attempting to win himself into my good graces.

For the rest of the week, I thought about a grown man playing
with himself and it intrigued me in a perverse sort of way. On
the one hand, I was infuriated that Jason would feel the need for
additional sexual release. Was I not woman enough for him? Yet,
on the other hand, I really wanted to watch him do it. Could I be
the one driving him to it? I had to know.

I had some books on sex, and they talked a little about male
masturbation, but they went into the how rather than the why. I
wanted to know so badly why men would do these things. The books
confirmed that they did, indeed, do them.

I wouldn't think about asking Jason, so, I confided in my next
door neighbor, Debbie. She and I had known one another since high
school. During those days we told each other everything,
especially our relationships with boys.

We still talked about our relationships with men. She had
confided in me that she had given quite a number of "hand jobs"
while in college and told me about some of the things she did
with her lovers. If any woman knew about penis pumping, she did.

My guesses were correct. After a very embarrassing introduction
of the subject, I finally explained what I caught Jason doing.

"Oh, Anne," she said, "Don't worry about it. It's very common.
Men do it all the time. You don't know how lucky you are. Work
with Jason on this. Both of you will like it, and, if you do your
stuff right, you can really benefit out of it."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Jason is your typical oversexed male. He can't get enough sex
and will seek release anywhere. Once he gets it, he loses
interest. I bet that once he gets it off with you, he drops you
like a hot potato."

"You got that right. How do you know so much about Jason?"

"This isn't rocket science, dear. I just described about 95% of
the male population. They're all just about the same. That's what
makes it so easy."

"Makes what so easy?" I asked.

"Female control! If you can control his release, you can control
him."

"Why would I want to control him."

"It's worth a shot. Think of it. No more housework, no more
laundry, hour long back rubs, guaranteed orgasms whenever you
want them. Jason can do it all for you."

"Whoa, girl!" I exclaimed. "What makes you think that Jason will
go along with this?"

"Most men think alike, they have hidden guilt feelings about the
control they have over women in the business place and in other
aspects of their lives. They know they are in control `out
there.' In the outside world they have all kinds of support
systems. The world is built according to their rules, and so far,
everybody has played the game their way. Take them out of that
familiar environment and put them one-one-one where it really
counts..." She trailed off turning the phrase into a question.

We sat in silence for a few moments as she let me digest what I
just heard. "In bed, it's different. Not every man is clear about
his standing with women.Some of them never resolve the sexual
conflicts they faced as c***dren. When things get though, they
try to retreat to their pasts when things were much simpler. Some
of them would like to make it all the way back to the womb, but
most of them enjoy getting back to the stage of being totally
dependant upon a woman -- mom."

She laughed, "Yeah, I know, sounds a little too Freudian. Well,
Freud wasn't all wrong. He got this part right at least. Most men
want moms to take care of them. Mom provided love, but she also
provided discipline. Some men get them mixed up. c***dhood was a
time of bliss when no decisions had to be made. You didn't even
have to figure out right from wrong. Mom did all that for you."

"That's another part of it -- giving up responsibility. Men feel
that they have to be in control all of the time. Bullshit! They
stand firm and won't bend. Instead of bending, they break. They
try to crawl back into the womb. They surrender. They become
dependent on you. The most dominant men in the boardroom are
often the most submissive men in the bedroom. I know, I've had my
share."

"Men also have an incredibly strong attachment to their sex
organs. I think it starts even before puberty. Once they figure
out that they have something girls don't they flaunt it. It
becomes a competition with them. Who can pee the furthest? Who
has the biggest one? Who can jerk off the fastest? In a sense,
men are their own worst enemy. All of them brag about how great
they are in bed. It's probably 99% bullshit, but they swallow it.
They have unrealistic expectations about what their performance
is supposed to be. They are uncertain in the bedroom. Like most
of the other things in their lives, men see sex as a competition.
They compete with other men and their women and, God forbid, even
your past lovers."

"Women get advice and sympathy on sex and how to handle men from
other women instead of `I can do it better than you.' Women, in
general, are more confident in bed. Not only do men compete with
each other in bed, they also compete with women. For them, there
must be a clear winner and a clear loser. They can't see, as us
women do, that sex should be a cooperative effort. When a man and
woman get in bed together, she has the home court advantage.
That's why confident women frighten men so much. In the
competitive mode, there is no half-way measure. It's either the
man dominates the woman, or she must dominate him."

"A man defines his sexuality almost entirely in terms of his
penis. As best I can figure out, there's absolutely nothing like
it in women. Control a man's penis, and you control him.
Considering the love they have for mom, the love they have for
their prick, and the guilt feelings they have towards women in
general, it's little wonder that some men wish to do penance by
servicing females sexually".

I couldn't believe what I was hearing, "Do you really do this
kinky stuff?"

Debbie continued, "Well, first of all, it's not as kinky as you
think. Besides, I normally like well-balanced relationships with
my men, but even the strongest of them has a submissive side. For
the men I really love -- those how know how to respect me -- I
respect that, and I only take advantage of it for our mutual
benefit."

"There are some men, however, who deserve what they get.
Sometimes I just want to get back at the male sex in general. I
remember what it's like growing up as a girl. I was a good
student, yet I was done out of an honors physics class simply
because I was a girl. In my senior year, the girls' swim team
went to the state championships. Yet the boy's losing basketball
team got more respect. Hell, even the cheerleaders got better
press than we did. Having some jock tell me `That's the way it
is.' didn't help."

"Even my own sister sold out. She's the one who taught me what
boys looked like and how we could play with them when we were
***********s. Now she's married and has two c***dren, Amanda and
Greg. She's raising Amada just like mom try to raise us -- to be
a perfect little lady. On the other hand Greg's trangressions are
mostly dismissed with `Boys will be boys." It's a mute testimony
to what everyone considers to be the natural order of things.
Boys got away with murder, and never had to take any
responsibility for it. What's worse, is that they don't even know
they're getting away with it."

"It goes beyond revenge, I have my lusty side as well. There are
times when I want it, I want it all, and I want it all my way. I
become an insatiable bitch.," she laughed. "That's when I find a
macho whimp and use him."

"Macho whimp?" I asked.

"Yeah, macho whimp. Those who brag the most are normally the most
insecure and also the most immature. I use both of these
weaknesses to bring them under my control. I love the feeling of
power. Lord knows I don't see it a work. Hell, I don't even get
it at the mall, at least not in the electronics store or the
automotive parts place."

"In private, I can exercise extreme power. I don't get simple
respect, I extract awe, reverence and worship. First I drive them
into lust, then I drive them into dispair. I love being a
goddess. You can have it all, too."

"I don't see how I get from Jason playing with himself to playing
slave for me, Debbie?"

"Take advantage of what I just taught you, girl. Take advantage
of his physical weakness, and your mental superiority. Most of
this game is played in the head."

I looked at her quizzically.

"It's simple," she said, "When's the last time you and Jason had
sex?"

"About a week ago."

"And has he been playing with himself since."

"I don't think so. He seems doesn't seem to want to do anything
to upset me."

"All the better. Don't you think that he's getting a little horny
by now?"

I laughed, "I imagine so."

"Well, use it. Get that pussy working for you."

She reminded me of previous conversations, "You told me that
Jason has never eaten you out. That's still true, isn't it?"

"Yes..."

"Well, here's your chance. Let me tell you what to do..."

I interrupted, "Wait! I'm not sure I want to do this."

"OK, think about it. I have some stuff I can give you."

Debbie went up to her bedroom, and when she came down, she gave
me some books on female domination.
--
Mule
--


------=_NextPart_000_01BC4199.686FF260
Content-Type: application/octet-stream; name="djason#2.txt"
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit
Content-Description: djason#2.txt (Text Document)
Content-Disposition: attachment; filename="djason#2.txt"




Domination of Jason
Chapter 2

Most of the books Denise gave me were magazines with articles on
female domination, some were dedicated to bondage and discipline
of both sexes in general, and there was one book totally
dedicated to the female top position. She gave me a good
selection from "nearly vanilla" to extremely kinky. It took me a
week to read them all. Boy, Were my eyes opened! I had no idea
how widespread the practice was, and in some cases, how extreme.

What really surprised me was how turned on I got. I went though a
lot of wet panties. I had no reason to wish any physical harm to
my husband, yet the thought of taking control over him, and
humiliating him got me very excited.

When Debbie came over to pick up the books she asked me, "What
are you prepared to do? If you're really going to get into this,
you've got to be committed."

As excited as I was inside about the idea, my actions weren't
quite up to my desires.

"OK, let's run a test," suggested Debbie. "You still have that
husband of yours off sex?"

"Uh-umm," I nodded.

"Has he been playing with himself?"

"I don't think so."

"When was the last time you think he went over ten days without
getting any."

I laughed, "I don't know, third grade?"

"Do you still want to get eaten out?"

"After my own abstinence -- more than ever!"

"OK. So, here's what you do..."

-=o=-

When Jason came home from work that night, I met him at the door
in one of my sexier dresses. This was a far cry from the shirts,
jeans and sneakers I normally kept house in! I greeted him with a
long passionate kiss, and I could feel his cock spring to life
even though his pants.

I led him over to the couch where I had previously poured out a
glass of wine for each of us, and sat there leaning towards him,
legs crossed towards him, twirling a lock of my hair with a
finger. Even this slight teasing got me excited.

"Tell me about your day, dear." I asked him.

He stammered on about some of the mundane office goings-on and
how the traffic was on the freeway. I didn't really listen. I
just looked him in the eye, and licked my lips. Every bit of my
body was broadcasting, "Take me, I'm hot!"

When he finally wound down, I asked him, "What were you doing in
the bathroom the other day?" He blushed immediately and started
stammering again.

"Do you like playing with yourself?"

"No."

"Don't lie to me, boy!" I yelled at him, surprising even myself.

"Well, er, yes."

"What do think about when you're doing it?" Debbie told me all
the questions to ask.

"I think about having sex", my husband said, and then added
hastily, "with you."

"Mmmm," I mused, "Tell me more, what are we doing in this fantasy
of yours?"

I made him explain all of his thoughts to me graphically. He was
getting hornier and hornier by the minute as he relived the
experience. Debbie told me that making him admit his fantasies
would break him down.

I had to admit, I was getting hot myself. Unlike my husband,
however, I was able to keep under control.

When I had heard enough, I announced, "I bet you want to get it
off now, don't you." He nodded his head vigorously.

"Come, let's go to the bedroom." He was on my heels like a puppy.

I sat on the bed and said, "Take off your clothes. Slowly! I want
you to put on a show for me."

He obliged, getting even redder than before. He was clearly in
the grip of severe embarrassment. How I was going to love this!

Once he was completely naked in front of me he asked, "What about
you, aren't you going to get undressed?"

"Not just yet," I informed him, "Turn around. I want to see all
of you".

His eyes brightened when I stood up and dropped my dress to
reveal my slip and stockings. I lifted my leg just high enough to
show him that I wasn't wearing panties underneath, and that I was
wearing my garter belt.

His cock was rigid and throbbing by this time.

"Before I allow you to come," (how nice that word - allow -
sounded), "You'll have to do a few things for me. You do want to
be allowed to come eventually, don't you?"

Once again, the vigorous nod.

"OK, then. Kneel down in front of me and bow your head." He did
as he was told, and I threw my slip over his head. Using my
hands, I guided it to where I wanted it.

"You know what to do." I told him.

"But honey," came the muffled reply.

"No but honey's tonight," I sternly told him, `You've had your
sex fun, now it's time for me to have mine. If you don't put your
tongue in there, you'll never put anything else in there either.
Now LICK!" Guilt! It worked just like Debbie said it would.

Jason started licking me, although with less relish than I'd
like. Debbie suggested that I punish inferior performance but
Jason's reaction was enough. He obviously thought that oral sex
was a disgusting prospect (He didn't even ask me to perform it on
him). The idea that I was making him do something he absolutely
detested made up for his actual lack of physical stimulation.

As I felt his tongue in my pussy for the first time, I thought,
"a game played mostly in the head," is that how Debbie put it?
Power, yes, I liked it. I came, and I came hard. I liked it, and
I almost lost control.

By the time I let Jason up for air, his face was covered with my
juices. I smiled down at him, not so much from the humorous look
of the slick juices on his face, but from the knowledge of what I
had done to him, and what I had made him do, and where all of
this would eventually lead.

-=o=-

"Now, get dressed," I ordered him. "You're taking me out to
dinner." I allowed him a quick shower while I changed my slip and
got back into my dress.

All through dinner, I kept sending him the come-on signals. I had
no doubt that Jason thought his punishment was over. Little did
he know it was just beginning!

By the time we got home, Jason was all over me. I put on my
sexiest nightgown kissed him deeply, and rubbed my body against
his. If I had let him in me just then, he would have shot his
load on the first stroke.

I rolled away from him, smiled at him over my shoulder, said,
"Good night," and turned off the light.

"Aren't we going to make love?" he asked.

"Why don't you make love to your hand? You seem to like it
better."

"It's not like that," he insisted.

"I don't care what it's like. I'll tell you this. You touch
yourself again, and I won't have anything to do with you. Think
about it, your hand or me. I think I'm worth giving up your hobby
for."

"OK, dear. I promise. I won't play with myself again."

"That's not good enough," I was on a roll, and I wasn't going to
stop, "I want it in writing."

"What!"

"In writing," I said more emphatically, turning the light back
on. "Get over to that desk and take dictation." I bit off each
word crisply. "There's going to be some changes for the better
around here. Better for me, that is."

He got up and sat at the desk.

I improvised as I went along, "I, Jason, promise my wife, Anne,
total fidelity." Jason's pen made the appropriate scratches. "I
will not look at another woman. I will not go out with the boys
unless she lets me. I will stop masturbating as of this very
moment and I will not touch myself without Anne's permission.
>From now on, Anne is in charge of my sex life."

"Now wait a minute," he interrupted.

"Keep writing," I overruled.

"From now on, Anne is in charge of my sex life. She will decide
when and if I've earned an orgasm. I will make it my priority to
make sure her pleasure comes first. I will do whatever she tells
me to do, and if she is not satisfied with my performance, she
has the right to punish me and withhold sex from me. I promise
all these things on blah blah blah -- OK, just date it and sign
it."

Not very eloquent, but to the point nonetheless.

He finished his task and I inspected the results. I nodded slowly
and grinned sexily. "You can start tomorrow. It's Saturday, and I
want breakfast in bed. Then I have some chores for you to do."

He raised his finger to object until I waved the paper in front
of his face. "Don't push it, bub! You're not getting any tonight.
Misbehave, and you won't get any for a long time. Now kiss me
like a good **********, turn off the light and go to sleep."

I can't believe it. I just lectured him like an errant 9-year
old, and he accepted it! Debbie was right again, a couple of
balls full of semen will make a man do just about anything for
the mere promise of relief. I slept like a baby thinking of the
new phase of life Jason and I had just started.

-=o=-

I woke up to the smell of fresh brewed coffee. There stood Jason
in his bathrobe with a tray containing my breakfast. "Put the
tray here," I said, indicating my lap, "and drop the robe from
now on whenever you are with me in this room, you will wear no
clothes except what I order you to wear. Do you understand?"

"Yes, dear."

"That's another thing. No more of this `dear' and `honey' stuff.
>From now on I'm `Mistress' in private, and "Madam" in public. Do
you get that?"

"Yes, Mistress."

This was going better than expected. Debbie told me that it would
take several `training sessions' before Jason would be calling me
"Mistress".

I made Jason stand there and watch me eat. I kept stealing peeks
at his penis noting how big and hard it was. He was accepting
this. He was even getting off on it. I noted inwardly, "Yes, this
is going to work out after all." I took my time and enjoyed my
breakfast. When I was done, I made sure Jason got his. I made him
eat me out again, change the bed linens and start the laundry
while I got dressed. It was a nice day so I threw on a blouse,
shorts, and sneakers and said as I sauntered by my husband, "I'm
going over to Debbie's. There's a list of things to do in the
kitchen. I'll be back this afternoon, and this place better look
spotless."

--
Mule


------=_NextPart_000_01BC4199.686FF260
Content-Type: application/octet-stream; name="djason#3.txt"
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit
Content-Description: djason#3.txt (Text Document)
Content-Disposition: attachment; filename="djason#3.txt"




Domination of Jason
Chapter 3

I couldn't wait to get to Debbie's to tell her how it went. I
relayed every little detail, and even showed her the note I made
Jason write.

"Great going, girl." she congratulated, "You're a natural.
Judging by how quickly Jason is coming around, I'd say, so is he.
I think I better hang onto this paper just for safety sake. We
can make a copy of it in the library and give that copy to Jason
just to let him know you're serious."

"Now what?" I asked. "I'm really enjoying this. How far can I
take it?"

"As far as you want, but not all at once."

"Do you think that I should let Jason come when I get home?"

"That would probably be the smart thing to do. You have to reward
them every now and then. Right now, I bet Jason's building up
resentment towards you as he's doing his chores. Eventually he'll
come to accept all of this as an elaborate type of foreplay, but
he's not there yet."

"Jason is in phase one of his training. He's behaving himself in
what I like to call a `bartering situation' - that is, he is
willing to trade specific periods of servitude for specific acts
of sexual release. By rewarding him at just the right times, you
can make him accept it as a way of life."

"Right now, Jason's just a `play slave'. He's willing to be
submissive totally on his terms: doing only those things he
wants, for as long as he wants to do them, with an expectation of
a near-term, somewhat equitable return. You've got to change
that if you're going to do this `for real'. Progress will be slow
in the beginning, but eventually you will be able to gain total
control over him. Are you willing"?

I wasn't sure, but I said, "Yes." "How do I start? I don't know
what to do. I don't even know what some of the things in those
books you lent me are".

"Don't worry, Anne," Debbie assured me, "I'll show you what to
do".

I protested, "You? Wait a minute. I mean, I'm not into group sex,
and neither is Jason".

Janice laughed, "This isn't really about sex. It's about power.
Anyway. I'll respect your wishes for the moment. I'll be your
silent partner."

"But don't think of it as group sex, Anne. One of my favorite
games as a *********** was to get a boy to make pee for me while
I watched. Didn't you ever do that?"

"Well, yes, I mean, what girl hasn't."

"And I bet you had one of your girlfriends with you".

"Not one but two," I laughed.

"Did you feel that when you did it, you were having group sex"?

"Of course not. We already knew what **********s looked like. It
wasn't really sex at all".

"What was the most fun part of it?"

"We told the boy what we wanted him to do and he did it."

"Exactly, this isn't any different. It always amazes me how
eight-year old girls are naturals when it comes to domination,
but somehow lose it as they get older. Somehow the sex thing gets
in the way. Sex is only one part of it."

"One of the things you'll learn about female domination is that
it's best enjoyed if there are other women to share the thrill
with you. It's a spectator sport as well as a `team' sport. I
learned that lesson early. When I made these boys pee for me, I
always brought other girls along."

I knew eventually that Jason and I would be getting advanced
hands-on training from Debbie.

"But, I really afraid of hurting Jason.", I protested.

"I think you're getting S&M mixed up with B&D or D&S."

"What? I can't get all this stuff straight I mean, even the
personal ads in the newspaper throw me with all those
abbreviations".

Debbie continued. "OK. S&M - Sado Masochism involves inflicting
pain and receiving pain. B&D - Bondage and Discipline. That's
actually two things: Bondage -- tying Jason up, and Discipline --
making Jason behave. Discipline is the fun part for me. D&S -
Dominance and Submission. As long as I'm the `D' and he's the `S'
I'm OK. I like humiliating a man. Sometimes you can use bondage
and sadism to help with the discipline. but you don't have to."

"All of this is really just one more dimension of your sexual
relationship. You do what works best for both of you. Your
objective is to turn Jason on so much that he willingly submits
to anything you want. Push too hard, and you'll drive him away.
Do too much, and you may turn yourself off."

"So, you don't have to hurt Jason. Some men like that kind of
stuff, but most of them just want to be told what to do and obey.
If inflicting pain squicks you, then don't do it. You may find,
however, that both of your appetites may change as you explore
your sexualities more fully. Keep an open mind."

I was willing to listen to more, but I still had more questions.
"What about special equipment? I mean, if I tried to do some of
the stuff in some of the books I read, I'd have to build a
medieval dungeon. That's kind of hard to hide from the neighbors
when they come over."

"You don't have to go `all the way'. Besides, you can disguise
your fixings to look like every day objects. In fact, you can
even use every day objects. Let's take a walk around your house
later today and see what you've got. You are limited only by your
imagination."

-=o=-

As Debbie and I got up to leave I remembered to ask, "Wait a
minute. You suggested I let Jason come. I wouldn't mind another
licking, but I don't feel like intercourse just now."

"So don't do it. There are a lot of other ways to make a man
come."

"What are you suggesting?" I asked.

"Well, you could give him a handjob. This way, you'll be in
control."

"But what about the mess?"

"Well, if you're squeamish about getting your hands messy, do
what I do. Wear gloves." Before I could ask the question, she
went on, "I have some rubber surgical gloves I can let you have.
They're really cheap by the box."

Debbie explained one of her well learned methods of slow
masturbation. "It's best if you immobilize Jason when you do
this. After a while, it gets too intense for the male, and he
tries to take over. Besides, bondage will become part of the game
soon enough."

-=o=-

Jason was just putting away the vacuum when I came in. The house
was in good shape. I could hear both the washer and drier going
as well as the dishwasher. The floor in the kitchen was still
wet.

Debbie and I smiled at each other knowingly. I wasn't going to
let Jason in on the fact that Debbie knew of our special
arrangement.

I smiled at my husband and said, "Honey, why don't you take a
break. I have a list of things I want you to get from the store.
Why don't you go now." I was pleased when I noted his response,
"Yes, madam."

As soon as he left, Debbie and I began our tour.

"I guess the best place to start is in the bedroom", I said as I
motioned Debbie to follow me. "Many of the articles talk about
tying people up on a 4 poster bed. As you can see, my bed isn't
like that."

Debbie got on all fours and looked under the bed. "Who said that
the tie points have to be above the bed? You have 4 legs, use
them. In fact, its better that way, since you can leave the
ropes, or whatever you use, attached and simply tuck them under
the mattress when your not using them. I also suggest you get
some sort of means to restrict Jason's mid section. You can tie a
rope around one of the cross boards for that."

"What a nice chair!", Debbie commented, moving to the other side
if the bedroom. "Make Jason stand behind the chair and bend over
the back and place his hands on the arm rests. Then tie his
wrists to the arms. This will put his ass up in the air where you
can get at it for spankings and other games. But be careful. I'd
d**** a towel over the back if I were you. Men have been known to
come while being punished."

"Now, here in the kitchen," she said as she continued our tour,
"you can have Jason stand with his butt against this counter
while you pull his arms behind him, and tie them together at the
wrists. Now, go around the other side of the counter and tie the
other end of the rope to this cabinet door handle. That will have
him on his toes, and have his mid section and penis thrust
forward for you to play with. If you want to add finishing touch,
you can tie his ankles to the lower drawer handle on his side".

Debbie had similar suggestions as we went through the house, but
when she got to the laundry room, she exclaimed, "Oh, this is
great! You have no idea what a gold mine you have here. Look at
this."

The `this' she was referring to was a clothes rack my husband had
built. It was nothing more than two expansion bolts in the
ceiling with eye rings screwed in. Hanging from the eye rings
were "S" hooks. Suspended from the "S" hooks was a four foot
dowel which was attached by two eye bolts screwed through holds
drilled close to each end.

To me, it was just somewhere to hang Jason's shirts while ironing
them. To Debbie's "educated" eye, it was something else. She
explained, "Take the bar down and put it on the floor. Take a
loop of rope or something and tie them on Jason's wrists. Hook
Jason up to the ceiling by slipping the loop over the "S" hook.
And now, for the best part", she grinned, "make him put his feet
apart and tie them at the ankle to each of the eye bolts in the
dowel. You've got him spread eagle and standing. There's a lot
you can do to a man when you got him in that position."

By the time she was done, I had a dozen places to tie my husband
up including, a coffee table, some chairs of various design,
towel racks, the shower (she said that giving a man a cold shower
wasn't harmful, but could be very uncomfortable for the man and
quite amusing for the woman to watch). She even pointed out a
traditional "stake" otherwise disguised as the support pole in
the garage. Boy, was Jason in for a surprise when he got home.

By this time Debbie had finished putting these "interior
decorating" ideas into my head, Jason was pulling in the
driveway. She gave me a quick kiss on my cheek and said, "I'll
leave you two love birds alone now. Good luck and go get `em."

Jason came in. I complemented him, "It looks like you've been a
good boy, the house looks great. I'll inspect later. Put those
groceries away and you'll get your reward." I retired with my tea
to the living room to relax as I listened to Jason clattering
about the kitchen putting things away.

In a couple of minutes, Jason was done and stepped into the
living room. "I'm ready, dear," he said.

I glared at him. All of a sudden he realized his mistake. "I'm
ready MISTRESS!" he exclaimed. "Please, I'm sorry. I'll get used
to this. Just let me come. I'll do anything you say."

This was more like it.

"Come, let's go to the laundry room, it's time to let you ejaculate."

You'd think I just said that we won the lottery. He was capering
around like a puppy that was left alone all day when its mistress
comes home.

"OK, it's time to strip again," I told him.

As soon as I had him naked, I remodeled the washroom like Debbie
showed me.

I had him take the dowel down, and run a short length of rope
through each eye bolt. I made him tie each of his ankles to the
dowel. Then I told him to stand up while I got the stool and
started to tie each wrist to the eyebolts in the ceiling.

He wanted to object, but I reminded him, "Remember the paper you
signed that night? We do this my way." I, a mere 5 foot 4 inch
110 pound brunette had my 6 foot 2 inch 210 pound husband,
vertically "spread eagled" in the classical anatomic position.
Both his arms and legs were spread almost three feet apart.

I grabbed his cock, looked him in the eye and said, "You're going
to learn to like this. You've been a bad ********** playing with
your `pee pee'. What would your mom had said if she caught you
doing that? From now on I am the law in this house. I make all
the rules and you obey them." I gave his cock a squeeze and he
meekly submitted.

It was delicious looking at him tied up that way, and totally in
my control. I took out my gloves, smoothed them over my skin and
went to work on his organ. My gloves were well lubricated with
his precome from the moment I touched him.

I put the tip of my index finger in the slit of his pee hole and
gave it a gentle twist. His body tensed. I ran the very tip of my
latex encased finger up and down the slit and watched him squirm.

Then I put my first two fingers under the head of his prick and
my thumbs on top. I squeezed down with my thumbs and pumped it a
few times. This forced a drop or two more precome to ooze out. I
ran one thumb over his pee hole, and then the other.

Using the fingers under his shaft to stimulate the lower portion
of the head, I massaged the top with my thumbs. I coordinated my
stroking so that as I rubbed down with my thumbs, I was rubbing
out with my fingers. Likewise, as I was pushing in with my
fingers, I was running my thumb back towards the read or the
head.

Debbie called this "milking the dick", and it was easier than she
described it to me. Jason was squirming uncontrollably and trying
to thrust his hips to increase the friction. Debbie warned me
about that, so I just l stopped every time I caught him doing it.
"This is my show." I told him. "You just provide that horny prick
of yours. I'm in charge of everything else." Eventually he
learned to do it my way.

I milked him for about 15 minutes of slow masturbation before I
let him come. He shot his load like a rocket! I tried to catch
his semen in my palms as it came spurting out. Jason lost his
balance. He was hanging from his ceiling restraints.

He finally stopped pumping. I took the two handsful of come and
smeared it over his chest.

"Yes, dear," I smiled, "There are definitely going to be some
changes for the better around here."
--


------=_NextPart_000_01BC4199.686FF260
Content-Type: application/octet-stream; name="djason#4.txt"
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit
Content-Description: djason#4.txt (Text Document)
Content-Disposition: attachment; filename="djason#4.txt"



Domination of Jason
Chapter 4

Jason was the perfect husband after we redefined our roles. He
gave head like and expert any time I wanted it, and I suspected
that he was even beginning to like it. I never washed a dish,
picked up a mop, or touched at piece of dirty laundry again. The
services were great. The advantages of female control were
obvious.

Yet I wanted more. I wasn't quite sure what it was, but I wanted
even more control over Jason. Debbie warned me that domination
was addictive and a little bit wasn't enough. It was time to
learn more.

Once more I confided in Debbie. She asked me, "So, how is it
going."

"I'm making good use of your suggestions. I've tied Jason up in
several locations around the house. But, I think I'm ready to
learn more now."

"Well, what have you been doing with him?" she asked.

"Just masturbation like you suggested."

"Do you use anything on him?"

"Just the gloves. What do you suggest?" I asked.

"You got to get yourself some hardware, girl."

"I was wondering about that myself. I mean, I can't keep a whip
around, and I wouldn't want to use it, and I wouldn't know how to
use it if I did", I rambled.

"You won't need it.", she laughed. "Discipline is a part of the
scene, but it doesn't need to be that severe. You will may even
have to spank him from time to time, frequently, if you must".

I protested, "I told you, I don't want to hurt Jason."

"Spanking isn't necessarily a painful punishment." she countered.
"It's more of a humiliation thing. OK, I won't force you.
Obviously you and Jason aren't ready for that part yet. Mark my
words, though. The day will come when you'll spank Jason and find
it enjoyable."

"We'll find some standard items that you can use to discipline
him. None of them are harmful at all. All of them are merely
symbols of your dominance over him."

"First of all, keep him naked at all times. As Mark Twain once
observed, `Clothes make the man. Naked people have little or no
influence in society.' Taking his clothes from him makes him feel
more vulnerable. They limit his mobility severely. After all,
he's not likely to leave the house without them. If you can
figure out how to lock up his clothes, so much the better. You've
taken away some of his freedom of movement without doing anything
at all."

"Take away his power of speech as well. Gags are easy. All you
have to do is ball up one pair of your panties and put them in
his mouth. Then you can put another pair over his mouth and
fasten them at the back of his head with a safety pin. Make sure
that he can breathe easily. In fact, you should agree on some
sort of signal Jason can give you even when gagged or bound so he
can call off the action in case something goes wrong. You don't
really want to damage him physically or psychologically. If he
calls you off too often, or for trivial reasons, stop playing.
He'll come back eventually."

"Take away his sense of sight and sound. Scarves make excellent
blindfolds. Put a set of headphones on him and turn up the
volume. I did this in college once. I blindfolded, gagged and put
the earphones on one of my lovers. I had him kneel at attention
for a while, and then touched him on the shoulder as a
pre-arranged signal to play with himself. When he got to the
moment of truth, I pulled off his blindfold so he could see that
during his wait I had invited some of my sorority sisters in to
watch. No harm, no hurt, but plenty of humiliation."

"I did the reverse with one of my coworkers on a previous job. I
prepared him in just the same way as my hapless college student,
except that after having him wait awhile, I switched the headset
into an amplifier so we could talk to him over a microphone. My
roomate and I took turns touching him. The kicker was that I had
recorded other women's voices, mixed them in with my
conversation, and played them back through the amplifier as
background noise. I made the recording at a bridal shower for one
of our coworkers. It certainly seemed that there were a number of
women in the room with us having a good time. I had him convinced
that the room was full of women and that these were women that he
saw every day. I'm sure some of the voices were familiar to him.
To this day, he has no idea which of the many women he works
with, or comes in contact with on a daily basis know of his
submissive nature. A tremendous mind game."

"You can take away even more of his mobility. There are literally
all kinds of fasteners, but ordinary clothes line will work for
most applications. You can also use bungee chords as quick
`temporary' restraints. Put them around his knees or his upper
arms behind his back. People might raise an eyebrow if you keep
chains and padlocks in the bedroom, but wrap them around your
bicycle in the garage and no one asks any questions."

"You will, of course, need to get a leash and collar for his
neck. It's only a symbolic bond, but those are really the best
kind."

"Now for the hard part. Once you've got him tied up, you've got
to do something with him. Most men have some sort of a fetish. I
try to make the fetish do the work for me. Fetishes are something
else we women don't seem to experience the same way men do. We
may like the way something looks or feels on us, and this may
make sex more enjoyable, but the objects themselves don't turn us
on. It's what we do when we wear the object, or how the object
affects men that's the real turn-on.

For men, the object itself has sexual connotations and I'm not
above using every advantage, fair or unfair to assert control.
Being a dominatrix is no fun if you have to work hard at it. Does
Jason have anything that he's particularly fond of?"

"Like what?", I asked.

"Well, there are things, you know: shoes, boots, handbags.
There's body parts, feet, ass, tits. And then there's materials
like leather, rubber, silky stuff. Does Jason get turned on by
any of this?"

"I know he likes when I wear sexy lingerie."

"Good, then wear it. Making him wear it might excite him too. Try
it and see what happens. It's `forbidden' nature might appeal to
him. I have a tall girl's catalogue. I can help you order stuff
for him. Anything else?"

"I don't know. He never told me anything", I said.

"Eventually, he'll tell you all of his fantasies. Right now,
we'll have to work at it. Tell you what. I have some more books.
What you do is make him strip for you and read them aloud. Watch
his penis. Keep a note of what he was reading every time it gets
hard. Then we'll get together and see what turns him on".

"It all sounds so scientific.", I responded.

"When it comes to men, there isn't much guesswork. They're so
easy to figure out. A man's cock will give him away every time."

I noticed that the new reading material hardly touched the
dominance / submission theme, and I explained this to Debbie.

She said, "I call this my fetish collection. I keep it around to
get some ideas, and let some of my lovers read it to see what
turns them on. It tells about men and women doing stuff using
toys. You want to stay away from the other stuff, since you don't
want the description of the activity to interfere with Jason's
reaction to what's being used as a toy."

-=o=-

That night, I put Jason to the test. I explained the experiment
to him: "I want to try something out tonight. I want you to read
some pornography to me, and tell me which articles turn you on,
and why." He was about to protest when I said, "That's no way to
talk to your mistress. Now get undressed and read to me."

"Where did you get this stuff?" he asked.

I responded, "That's none of your business. All that matters is
that I did get them, and you will read them to me."

I propped up his pillows and gave him a drink, and had him lay on
his back on the bed and read. I watched for the rising and
falling of his erection, and listened to what he thought turned
him on.

I got together with Debbie the next day, and pointed out the
articles Jason said excited him, and the ones where I noticed he
got particularly hard.

She was quick to analyze the results. "Jason has a foot fetish,
and rubber fetish. You lucky girl! Rubber is cheap, and it's so
easy to clean. It's so easy to use too. Taking care of a rubber
lover is hardly a chore at all. There's so many things to do to
tease him and make him come." She went on breathlessly.

"Whoa, girl", I exclaimed, "slow down. I'm not going to get into
a rubber suit just to get my husband going."

"You're not listening to me. It's just like the other equipment
you have. You probably have most of what you need right here."

"Yeah right!", I said.

"I don't suppose you are aware that you are wearing rubber at
this very moment".

"I am? What? My bra?"

"No, it's literally at your feet."

"Sneakers?"

"Sneakers!", she exclaimed, "The soles are rubber. You're even
wearing the right kind. Keds and sneakers like Keds work very
well."

"How?", I asked, "Nothing in the books talk about sneakers."

"Use a little imagination!", she admonished, "This was an
invention of mine. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure
out that if a guy likes rubber, and he likes women's feet, then
rubber on a woman's foot is something he'd also like".

"OK, you've got me convinced. It's just that I don't think about
rubber very much. I know some of the books mention rubber gloves
and bathing caps. I suppose you're going to add them to my list".

"Them, and something else very basic -- a rubber ball."

"Debbie! Now I know that I didn't read that one in a book, and
don't tell me how logical it is."

"Well, it is logical. If rubber's the thing, then you experiment
rubbing his penis with anything made of rubber -- even bicycle
inner tubes. In fact, a rubber ball is an extremely powerful
discipline device."

"I don't believe it. I don't see how you can use a toy to
discipline anyone."

"Compared to other rubber objects, a rubber ball is easier to
manipulate. It has a very distinct, almost velvety texture to it.
You'll be surprised how fast you can cause an erection with one,
and how you can use it to bring Jason to the edge of orgasm
without actually letting him come. Don't knock it. This `toy'
works very well."

"OK, you win, Debbie. You know, I do have most of the stuff you
mentioned. I have a whole closet bottom and under-bed area full
of sneakers. I have rubber gloves, although I better get a pair
specifically for this use and not use the ones I use -- I mean,
from now on Jason uses -- to clean the oven. Jason's a
racquetball fan, I can get him to pick some up at the sporting
goods store. I better have him pick up a bathing cap while he's
there. too."

"Atta girl! You're beginning to get into this. Complete your
collection, and I'll tell you how to use them", Debbie said.

"You better," I laughed. I can't begin to imagine how you could
use some of this stuff."
--


------=_NextPart_000_01BC4199.686FF260
Content-Type: application/octet-stream; name="djason#5.txt"
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit
Content-Description: djason#5.txt (Text Document)
Content-Disposition: attachment; filename="djason#5.txt"



Domination of Jason
Chapter 5

That weekend, I was over Debbie's house with an overnight bag
full of rubber items. Before getting into my things, Debbie gave
me a tour of her house and how she had arranged things. In her
kitchen, for example, was a butcher block which she had
redesigned into a punishment block. She took down some paintings
to reveal tie-down points. She even showed me how she could rig
up a block and tackle to suspend someone from the ceiling. Before
we left her playroom, she showed me her `toybox.' She grabbed a
dildo out of it, and we continued back to the kitchen.

When we got back into the kitchen for our tea, she handed me an
object, the function of which I could hardly imagine. "Before we
begin, I'd like to give you a little gift."

I giggled, "OK, Debbie, what's this, a dog leash for gerbils?"

"Good guess!" she laughed. "It's a cock ring." She then went on
to explain how to put it on, and how it would `accentuate' his
erection and balls. "And when you're done, you can attach a leash
on this ring. You can then lead Jason around by his penis. It's
sort of a physical symbolism -- women have been leading men
around by their cocks since the beginning of time. As I always
say, `Control the cock, control the boy.' I have a lot of other
`toys' which I'll show you at some other time."

"Speaking of controlling cocks," I interjected, "you haven't even
shown me how to use the stuff I got yet."

"Exactly, show me what you've got!"

I emptied the contents of my overnight bag onto her table.

"The thing you want to do with this stuff is to drive Jason into
lust, and then dispair. Show him you control his sexual pleasure
at your whim. Best of all, all of this is so mechanical on your
part. You can be a 'tease machine' with almost no effort at
all."

"OK," Debbie said, "let's start with the bathing caps. It doesn't
take too much imagination to figure out what to do with a bathing
cap. Does it?"

"No, I imagine you simply put it over his cock and rub it up.", I
said.

"Did you ever actually do that with a man?"

"Well (pause) no.", I stammered. "But how hard can it be?"

"You can make it very hard," she said, laughing at her own pun.
"But seriously, you really have to be careful not to hurt the
penis. If the cap has a rough interior, you will have to rub
gently, especially at the start."

"Why at the start?"

"Well, the rubber is going to grab at his penis. This is a good
thing. It tickles it into a tremendous hard-on. Once he starts
leaking precome, it's a whole different experience. Just a drop
or two will have his prick sliding around all over the inside of
the cap."

"I'd demonstrate with the toy," she said, tapping the dildo with
her finger, "but it's not fully functional in this regard."

"Once you get him to lubricate your toy with his, you can get
more aggressive. Don't just rub in the same spots. Try to use his
prick to spread the semen over every square inch of the inside of
the cap. Use the cap to spread his precome over every bit of his
cock."

"Stretch the cap tightly over his prick like you are trying to
poke it through the cap. Don't do it too hard. You don't want to
hurt him, but you'd be surprised how hard and firm erections can
get. He'll just love the feel of the expanding rubber over his
cock. Another nice things about bathing caps is that you can
measure how much he squirts. That's one way to tell if he's been
cheating on you."

"OK", I nodded.

"Also be sure", Debbie continued, "that you avoid caps with sharp
seams. I try not to buy them at all. If I have to, then I turn
the cap inside out, put it over a block of wood, and sand away
the ridge with sandpaper. Generally, I just use my trusty old
Speedos. I can really feel the prick through the latex."

"Jason picked up one for me at the sports shop." I said, picking
it up still in the package. "I also found the cap I bought for
our vacation in Mexico last year. Can I use it?" I picked it out
of the pile for her inspection. It was a very feminine looking
cap with leaves and petals and flowers all over the outside.

"This is great, girl. This," she said, shaking the cap in her
hand, "is a great erection holder. Get rid of this chin strap.
Instead, make a couple of daisy chains out of rubber bands and
loop them into the snaps. Turn the cap inside out, and place it
over Jason's cock and balls. Put the rubber band chains around
his legs, and snap them to the cap.

"What this does is wrap his penis completely in rubber. When he
gets excited, his penis will twitch. When it twitches, it rubs
itself into the rubbery folds. This excites it some more, and
causes it to twitch again. It will keep Jason hard for as long as
you want with absolutely no work on your part. You can put him
`in the bag' for hours, and he'll still have a beautifully hard
cock for you to play with."

"I suggest you dress Jason up like this when you have him clean
the bathroom or perform his other household chores. He'll get
enough movement in the cap to stroke his penis into a good
erection, but the stimulation won't be enough to make him come.
He'll be ready to beg you for relief when he gets done."

"An important part of training men is to keep them in a state of
constant sexual excitement. In addition to using bathing caps to
keep Jason at a high level of arousal, you can use it to make him
bring himself to and sustain an intense level of arousal. To make
Jason masturbate to the point of ejaculation without coming, have
him coat he cap with his precome. He'll have to stimulate himself
enough to produce precome, but stop short of actually
ejaculating. You don't even have to supervise him. Just have him
show you a cap where he has spread his clear, glistening precome
over every square inch."

I swallowed my tea. I had never considered the possibilities. The
thought of ordering Jason to maintain a state of perpetual
anticipation to please me was really turning me on.

-=o=-

I sat there in silence digesting what I just heard. "OK, what
about the other items?" I asked.

"I'll start with the sneakers since they are so easy to use. I
use sneakers as sort of a reward. Rather than make a man mad with
the urge for sexual release, they actually provide it. What's
nice about it, is that the woman controls it."

"So, sneakers are one way to provide the pleasure you need to
give them from time to time to enslave the male. They don't
produce pain, unless of course, you use them as a paddle to spank
him." She laughed.

"You could just throw your sneakers on the floor and let Jason
hump the soles. I've done that when I'm too lazy to reward my
charges. However, I usually like to get a lot more involved."

"I call the first method the `book' method." She slipped off her
sneakers and demonstrated. "Hold them together by the back part
sole-to-sole, with the heels towards you and the insides --
that's part that's between your legs when you wear them -- up,
like this. While you have them this way, you can use them to
`tickle him up.' That is, if he doesn't have an erection, you can
give him one."

"Here, pretend the dildo is Jason's cock. Hold it out." I held it
out, and she moved her sneakers towards it.

"Put the heels under the head of his cock and pull back slowly,
letting his prick ride down into the valley at the arch, and back
up the hill towards the toes -- every bit of it bouncing and
rubbing its way along the herringbone patterns on the outsole. In
just a couple of passes, you'll have him as hard and straight as
a steel rod."

She was right. I could feel the vibrations in the rubber cock as
she slid her sneakers under it.

"Now, if you open the top like a book, you form a `V.' Let his
cock fall into the `V.' You can play with how wide you open the
book so as to make the rubber touch his cock looser or tighter."

She adjusted the sneakers and the dildo fell into the crack so
the penis was resting on the 'hinge' at the spine of the book.
She indicated the area that corresponded to the ball of her foot
and she called it the 'working rubber' explaining that it was the
part of the sneaker where masturbation takes place.

"You can let him hump the soles, or you can bind him, and provide
all the rubbing yourself. Just move the sneakers back and forth
letting his cock slide along the sole like a piston."

I noticed how she opened the book slightly on the push stroke so
the penis could slide forward freely, and closed it slightly on
the pull stroke so the working rubber grabbed at the penis head.

She handed over the sneakers and took the cock. "Now you try it."
She gave me a couple of minutes of practice and coaching. "Atta
girl, you got it. You'll love it. You'll have a perfect view of
Jason's penis when he comes."

-=o=-

We put the water on for another cup of tea.

"I like to call the next technique the `total control method'
because the man's ejaculation is entirely under the control of
the woman. To do it, you want to make a `penis sandwich' with
your sneakers. Here, hold out that dildo again."

She held one of her sneakers at the end uppers up, and her other
sneaker at the end, soles up. She held them so that they were
pointing to each other toe to toe. She nodded at me, and I picked
up the dildo, ready to play the role of the hapless male.

"Put one sneaker under the head of his penis, sole up, and the
other one on top of it with the sole resting just behind the
head."

"The next part takes some practice. Use the top sneaker to move
the penis in a side-to-side motion, while rubbing it with the
bottom sneaker along the shaft in a girl-to-boy motion. The net
result is a circular motion which no penis can resist. You
control the pressure. You control the tempo. The man does
absolutely nothing at all. Once you get the hang of it, it's so
easy and quick. You'll have him coming in less than a minute, and
at exactly the moment you want."

Again, I was given the opportunity to practice. I couldn't wait
to try it on Jason. "It gets better once Jason provides some
biologically induced lubrication for you." Debbie advised.

-=o=-

"The final sneakering technique I call `walking the dog.' In this
one, you use your feet instead of your hands. Just wear your
sneakers as you normally do, and have Jason sit on a chair facing
you with his legs wide open. Put your feet in his crotch with
your heels against his balls."

"You seem to have a normal size foot for a woman, and if Jason is
average size, the head of his penis will be at the balls of your
feet. Simply peddle his cock from foot to foot. You'll literally
have him coming at your feet!"

"You can also use sneakers for intense anticipation training. Let
him play with himself. Give him run of your closet. Tell him you
want him to coat every sole of every sneaker with precome. Don't
give him permission to ejaculate. It will keep him busy for hours
while you can attend to something more relaxing. In fact, he may
never complete the task. If you have enough sneakers, the first
pair will be dry before he finishes the last."

"Another nice thing about sneakers is that they are everywhere.
Do you think that after you start sneakering Jason that he will
ever be able to look at you or any other woman wearing a pair,
and not get a hard on? Think of it -- the secretaries in his
office on 'casual day.' a housewife in the supermarket, a teenage
girl going to school, even ***********s playing in the park are
going to remind him of this part of his sexual servitude."

"The one thing you didn't get in our practice demonstrations
here," Debbie cautioned, "is lubrication. Even a dry penis has
less friction than the rubber-to-rubber contact between the dildo
and the soles of the sneakers. You'll learn how to play with
varying pressures during the very first session, I'm sure."

-=o=-

"OK, that leaves the rubber ball." I said, refilling my tea.

"The ball takes special care. Bathing caps provide erections,
sneakers get him off. A rubber ball, if used properly will drive
him crazy. It's very effective, but it is very woman-intensive.
You'll have to put a lot of work into this one, but it's worth
it."

"To do it properly, you'll need to understand a little of the
anatomy of the male reproductive system."

"The two parts of the penis you are interested in are on opposite
ends. At the very base of the penis, where the scrotum is
attached, is a sphincter-like muscle that holds back urine, and
also holds back semen just prior to the ejaculation. I suggest
you experiment with Jason and find out exactly where this muscle
is. It's the key to penis control. Massaging this muscle will
cause ejaculation if the penis is aroused enough. However, we
want to use it for exactly the opposite purpose."

"Just before ejaculation, this muscle tightens in anticipation.
The amount of tightness and just how it will feel to you varies
from man to man. In other words, you'll have to figure out for
yourself, using repeated experimentation, what Jason's 'flash
point' is. Don't be discouraged if you don't get it right on the
first couple of tries."

Grab Jason's penis with your left hand. Make a tight ring with
your thumb and middle finger. This will trap more blood in the
organ and make it firmer and more sensitive. Take your index
finger and place it on the muscle. This is your feedback
mechanism so you will know when you are getting him close to
ejaculation."

"The other end of the penis is the head. As you look at it
straight-on you'll see a pair of 'cheeks' at the 5- and 7-o'clock
positions. This is where you want to work the ball."

"There are two basic rubbing techniques. In technique one, you
start by pushing the ball against his pee hole and giving it a
few twists. This serves two purposes: it stimulates him, and it
picks up some precome to use as a lubricant. Next rub the ball
back and forth along the underside of the shaft, gently nicking
the cheeks."

"Do this until you feel him about to come, or a drop of precome
appears. If your left index finger tells you he is about to come,
ease up. Continue gently rubbing just the shaft for about 15
seconds. Then move onto rubbing technique two."

"Whenever you see precome, you can switch to the other
technique."

"Technique two starts the same as technique one. Push the ball
against the pee hole and twist. This time spiral out from the pee
hole spreading the precome in little circles on the head until
you are almost running the ball around the ridges at the edge of
the head. Then spiral slowly back in. Stop at the pee hole, give
the ball a twist, and shift back to rubbing technique one."

"It may take about a couple of attempts to get it down, but once
you get good at it, you can have Jason dripping with anticipation
in less than a minute, and you can keep him on the edge of orgasm
for as long as you want."

-=o=-

I was amazed. "How did you ever learn how to do this?"

"Well, I first put rubber to penis when I was a ***********. I
managed to make a couple of men come this way when I was in
college, but I didn't really perfect the technique until a couple
of years ago. I guess you can say it's a life time's work."

I looked at the ball I was holding. I looked down my legs at my
sneakers. I had never realized how much power I had at my hands
and feet!
--
Mule


------=_NextPart_000_01BC4199.686FF260
Content-Type: application/octet-stream; name="djason#6.txt"
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit
Content-Description: djason#6.txt (Text Document)
Content-Disposition: attachment; filename="djason#6.txt"



Domination of Jason
Chapter 6

All of these techniques helped me establish sexual anxiety and
relief in Jason. Stimulating a man and controlling his release
was just an ends to a means -- sexual domination.

And it worked! By then end of our third month of training, Jason
became completely devoted to me. Having him do the household
chores was convenient (he always did his share, and didn't
consider it demeaning as such, it's just that he now did my share
as well). I really enjoy having him give me backrubs and tending
to my feet (he still considers kissing and licking them to be
humiliating). And I always enjoy the complements I get from our
friends about how much a gentleman he is when we go out. Many of
my girlfriends comment to me about how they wish they had
husbands or boyfriends who are so polite and considerate. "How
did you do it?" they ask. Sometimes, I'm brave enough to joke
about it. "You have to train them when they're young," If they
only knew! I see some recognition in the eyes of some women, but
so far, Debbie is the only one in whom I can confide. Usually, I
stammer something like, "I'm just lucky, I guess."

Best of all is the sex. I allowed Jason to have intercourse on
those few occasions when I really felt in the mood for it, and
when I thought he really deserved it. He was so well trained to
consider my needs first that I am always totally satisfied.

It was about this time that Jason and I established a bedtime
routine. I wash up and brush my teeth, get into my nightgown, and
sit in a wing-back chair reading a magazine or a book. This had
been my routine ever since we got married. One difference now is
the types of magazines and books I read. I no longer read books
about kitchens and gardening. I've borrowed a lot of Debbie's
collection. She recommended a reading list for me, and I've
really enjoyed going through it. I now have subscriptions of my
own.

Another difference now is that now Jason kneels before me, with
his face in my crotch as I spend my time leisurely reading my
femdom publications. Debbie gave me a tip to improve his
performance. I tie a string around his balls, and give it a sharp
tug if he doesn't lick me properly. Jason learned to be an
accomplished cunlinginist in a short time.

Naturally, I gave Debbie all the details of the `love sessions'
Jason and I had. She suggested that I take things in my stride,
but that I gradually escalate my discipline.

"You have to maintain control at all times." she told me over
coffee during one of our many talks we had on the subject of the
taming of Jason. "I think you are ready to move into phase two."

"Phase two?" I asked her.

"Yes. In phase one, you rewarded Jason's good deeds with letting
him come. In phase two, you start punishing for bad behavior."

"Well, we certainly don't have much of that." I confided to her.
"Jason has been the perfect gentleman."

"Nobody's perfect." she replied. "Make something up. Don't settle
for sloppy service. If he's not on top of everything at every
moment, take it out on him."

"What do you mean by `take it out on him'." I asked.

"Spank him!" she said as if she couldn't believe I even asked the
question. "Men and women have been spanking one another since
Adam and Eve. It's perfectly natural, perfectly safe, and
perfectly necessary."

"I don't want to hurt Jason?" I complained.

"That's good. Some men like pain. We won't know about Jason --
and yourself -- until we get into a more advanced stage in his
training. Pain is something that can be added on later. The thing
we're going for here is humiliation and psychological control.
Spanking provides that."

"Spanking is on the extreme low end of the pain spectrum. It
rarely ever really hurts, and even then it's only temporary. The
real value of spanking is the humiliation. I bet Jason hasn't
been over a woman's lap since he was a **********. He probably
has ambivalent feelings about it. I'm sure he loved his mom, but
at that stage of his life, he was dependent upon her. She
controlled his life. In a sense, you are taking her place as he
regresses.

Spanking isn't something a grown man is supposed to submit to. To
surrender his body to you is a leap of trust. You are woman. All
of the world is telling him that you are supposed to be his
inferior. If that's so, how come he's over your lap. These are
the things that will be going through his mind."

"What do I do?" I asked.

"Start out with a simple, over-the-knee, hand spanking. It's
really an erotically cozy and intimate thing. You won't hurt him
much, but you'll really assert your authority over him. Later on,
as you both become more comfortable doing it, you can experiment
with belts, hair brushes, and even whips if it gets that far."

She laughed as she saw my mouth drop. I was certainly a non-
sophisticate when it came to these things. "Listen to me! I sound
like a mom instructing her daughter how to bake cup cakes. This
stuff seems so simple and so natural to me, that I forget that
other women don't do it as a routine."

I sat in awe of this woman's knowledge and experience. I decided
I'd try it.

-=o=-

I came home to see Jason's ass looking up at me from the kitchen
floor where he was on his hands and knees scrubbing. I called to
him, "Come in here! Stand in front of me. Look at this mess," I
said, sweeping my hand across what, in my pre-domination days, I
would have thought a perfectly clean living room. Now I could see
minor imperfections. A piece of lint here, a slightly
out-of-alignment picture there. "That doesn't look right at all.
We're going to do something about that right now."

I spoke mainly to build up my courage and to make Jason feel
inferior. This was a big leap for me, and I couldn't stand up to
much resistance from Jason. I needed him to give into me this
first time, and then I knew I could control him for life.

"You have to be more careful," I told him. "You have to pay
attention to detail. I don't want Debbie or my other friends
thinking we live in a sloppy house." I was being totally
unreasonable, but Jason took it all in meek submissiveness until
I suggested corporal punishment.

"I think you need to be taught a lesson. Get over here and get
over my lap. I'm going to give you a spanking to teach you to be
more careful."

"Anne!" he said.

"Anne?" I yelled back at him. "You are to call me mistress.
That's two lessons I have to teach you."

"I'm not going to let you spank me." he hissed, and then
belatedly added, "mistress."

"Oh yes you are." I said. "Do you want sex?"

"Of course I do, mistress." The title came more naturally then.

"Well, think about it. We've been in our `special arrangement'
for a couple of months now. Right?" He nodded a "yes."

"And in that time, since I've taken charge of your sex life,
you've had fewer ejaculations."

Again a nod.

"And they've been better ejaculations, haven't they."

He looked at his toes and admitted, "Yes, mistress."

"Ejaculations are more fun -- sex is more fun -- when I control
your lusty urges. You can't do it right unless I tell you or show
you how to do it. You need my dominance -- my control -- to have
good sex. AM I RIGHT?"

His eyes remained riveted on the floor as he muttered, "Yes
mistress."

"So there you have it. You don't have to come and get your
spanking. We can stop these games right now and go back to the
way it used to be. We can also stop something else. Do you
remember that first time I made you go all week without relief?"

Emphatically, "Yes, mistress."

"Well, how would you like to make it a month, or a year, or a
lifetime?" The question was rhetorical, I didn't expect and
answer.

Jason crossed the room to the seat on which I was sitting and lay
over my lap. He surrendered! I spanked him until his ass was good
and pink, and my own hand felt puffy and tingly itself. That
wasn't the only thing that puffy and felt tingly. I had Jason
finish me off with his tongue on the spot.

Debbie never told me how much fun this part would be. Looking at
Jason's drooling erection, I was sure he found it exciting too. I
found an excuse to spank Jason every other day.

By the end of the month we modified our life style even more.
Jason's schedule looked like housework every weekend, spanking
every other day, and cunt lapping every night. It was something I
couldn't even dream about the day I walked in on him, but I found
that I wanted more. Debbie warned me that this stuff was
addictive, but I only half believed her until I started hearing
some of my own demands.

I don't think it would have been as much fun for me if Jason
didn't get off on it too. I know that he really didn't take my
treats seriously. He could have terminated the arrangement at any
time. Instead, he hung in there. Everything I did to him or had
him do for me was something he wanted to do deep down inside. He
might have thought that he was being `forced' to do it, but no
force, treats (real threats, that is) or coercion was used. He
never once used our `stop' signal, and we discussed a lot of what
we did before we did it. What really convinced me that he enjoyed
my dominance is that he almost always had an erection every time
we did something.

Jason was faced with a simple decision: FemDom or Freedom. As I
sit here at my terminal, Jason under the table on his knees in
front of me, his head in between my legs, his mouth against my
pussy, his tongue where I love it most, I know he made the right
choice.

(The end -- for now. I'll continue if there are still readers who
managed to stay awake to this point and actually want to see
more).
--
Mule









Slave Shoelicker Princess





The girls were gone, and there I was, naked except for the pink
ribbons adorning my private parts. I caught my reflection in the
mirror and pondered the absurd sight. As if the ribbons weren't
enough, I was sucking my own semen out of a dirty sock. Why was I
doing this to myself? Why couldn't I control the lust I had to abase
myself at Jen's feet? Why was I more turned on by this degradation
than I ever was before?

I went to sleep that night with the ribbons on, the anklet in my
mouth, and a massive hard on.

Sunday came and I sat at home anxiously hoping for Jen to arrive. It
was mid-afternoon and I was pacing the floor, afraid to leave and miss
her should she come. The phone rang and I answered it. It was Jen.
She ordered me to come to her dorm room on campus and gave me
directions. I knew the campus fairly well and made my way over as
fast as I could.

There were many students moving in at the time, so it was easy for me
to get into Jen's dorm. I knocked on her dorm room and Jen opened the
door.

"Licky boy, good to see you. You're here to settle a bet," Jen said
pulling me into the room. She undid my pants and yanked them down to
my ankles.

"Well, well," said Jamilar. "He IS still wearing the ribbons. You
win Jen, but I must say, I'm glad that you did. Licky boy is so
compliant. I like that in a slave."

Jamilar walked up to me and visciously slapped my face. I was
startled but I involuntarily repied:

"Thank you Miss Jamilar."

The girls laughed at my ridiculous response. It was orientation
weekend at the university and the teens were going to a dinner party.
Jen was busy getting dressed and completely ignored me as she stripped
off one set of clothes and layed out another. My cock stood at full
salute to her magnificent body. She dressed in the same style short
pleated skirt and white blouse. Her hair was done up in a pony tail,
held in place by a pink ribbon. Jen's feet were still adorned with
the white anklets and frilly pink lace trim. The lovely maryjanes
completed the ensemble. I wondered if she had yet to remove the shoes
and socks. Could it be she really had worn them for three days
without taking them off?

Jamilar was still wearing an extremely short baby tee shirt dress that
clung to her alluring body. The black patent four inch pumps were on
her feet. Her legs looked fantastic as she strutted in those heels.
She wore expensive jewelery to complete her perfect appearance.

"We have a job for you while we are at the dinner party," Jen said, as
she took out some twine from one of the boxes she had used to move in.

"Turn around," she ordered.

I did as commanded and my wrists were tightly bound behind my back.

"On your knees."

I fell to my knees. With my hands tied behind my back and my pants
around my ankles, I was totally hobbled. Jen and Jamilar proceeded to
dump a pile of shoes on the floor of the room.

"Your job, licky boy, is to thoroughly clean each and every shoe in
that pile before we return from the party," Jen said.

I looked at the pile and wondered how in my bound state I would be
able to accomplish my task.

"Oh," Jen said with a smirk on her face, "I wouldn't want your tongue
to dry out and prevent you from finishing your chore."

Jen turned to the dresser and placed a large bowl of slimey goo on the
floor in front of me.

"Here's something for you to drink if you get thirsty. Hmm, maybe
that won't be enough," Jen giggled.

From the size of the bowl, there had to be nearly two quarts of the
slop.

"Perhaps we should be kind enough to add some more to make sure licky
boy can do a proper job. What do you think Jamilar?" Jen asked.

"I wouldn't want the dog to go thirsty," Jamilar said getting up from
the edge af the bed. She snorted up a thick wad of spittle and let it
drop into the bowl. It looked quite revolting as I knelt before the
bowl.

Princess Jen got up and proceeded to take her turn adding to the spit
soup. She spit and it landed on the floor in front of the bowl.

"Clean that up!" she ordered.

With my hands behind my back and my pants around my ankles, I had to
clumsily fall to the floor on my stomach to make my way there. I was
about to reach the spittle when Jen demanded:

"On your back."

On my back, I watched Jen step in the spit and bring her foot so that
it was inches over my face. I could see her pink cotton panties under
the short skirt. Her shaply buttocks and perfect legs had my heart
racing with excitement. I could see the pretty pink lace trim of the
anklet on either side of the maryjane. Jen let the moment linger and
then lowered the shoe to my lusting lips. I moaned in pleasure,
lapping at the sole. My degradation at Princess Jen's feet once again
causing a sexual arousal like no other I had experienced before her.
Jen removed her foot and I involuntarily groaned in severe
disappointment. Causing the vixens to laugh at my servile lust.

Jen scrapped the last of the spittle onto her shoe and slowly brought
it towards me. I licked my lips in anticipation and craned my neck to
get at the shoe which consumed my every thought. I was oblivious to
the giggles of the girls and the filming that Jamilar had begun with a
camcorder she had.

"Beg, licky boy. Beg if you want to clean the filthy slop off the
sole of my shoe," Jen said.

I needed it. I needed to get to Jen's shoe more than any desire I'd
ever had.

"Princess Jen," i began, "i beg you from the deepest depths of my
soul. i yearn to be your slave. Never before have i desired
something so much. A greater passion could not be found than the
passion burning within me to suplicate myself before you. i vow to
relinquish everything i am and devote my entire being as your servant
and slave. Please,...Please..."

Our eyes met, and Jen knew the sincerity of my commitment as i
prostrated myself at her feet. Taking pity at my utter desperation
she lowered the shoe to my eager lips. I licked her sole with every
fiber of dedication i could summon. The sheer ecstasy was
overwhelming and i was seconds from erupting in an orgasm sure to pale
all others i had ever experienced.

Jamilar stopped filming and jammed the spike of her heel into my cock.
She then reached down and squeezed my balls. The agony was unreal,
yet i refused to take my lips from Jen's maryjane.

Jen, satisfied that i had performed my task, walked away.

"Get on with your work," she said walking out the door.

i surveyed the shoes before me. Jen's were quite different than
Jamilar's. Jen had several colors and varieties of maryjanes and
saddle shoes, along with some penny loafers and atheletic shoes.
Jamilar's consisted almost entirely of expensive dress heels and
italian flats. i began first with Jamilar's. In my bound position it
was necessary to squirm on my belly to each shoe. i picked out a pair
of strappy sandals. i licked every inch of the sole and straps saving
the insole for last. Touching my tongue to the imprint of her foot,
my taste buds were assaulted with the acrid taste of Jamilar's foot
sweat. i was in heaven as i continued lapping the shoes, barely
noticing the agony in my neck caused by the awkward position i was
forced into by my bonds. i was no longer revolted by the slimey goo,
and it was necessary several times to drink from the slop to wet my
parched mouth.

i found myself prostrate before a pair of Jen's field hockey shoes.
The soles were caked with mud and dirt. Strangely, i devoured the
filth as if it were a gourmet meal, so eager was i to insure the
cleanliness of Jen's shoes.

Finished with my task, i wormed my way back to each and every shoe to
ascertain they were spotless. Just then the door opened. In walked
Jen and Jamilar along with two other girls who were slightly older and
very well dressed. The two girls burst out in hysterics at the
rediculous sight i presented.

"Look at those lovely ribbons he's wearing," one of them exclaimed.

"Is he really you slave?" the other one asked when she regained her
composure.

"Have a seat if you would," Jen said as the young ladies took a seat
on the edge of the bed.

"You look a little parched licky boy. Did your chore wear out that
tongue of yours?" Jen inquired.

"It was my pleasure to lick the dirt from your pretty shoes Princess
Jen," i said. "Thank you for the privledge."

The girls giggled as i abased myself before my princess.

"Are you thirsty?" she said popping the top of a can of soda.

"Oh yes Princess Jen."

That cold soda sure looked good. Jen began to sip it, then said to
me:

"By all means have a drink licky boy," gesturing in the direction of
the large bowl of spit still quite full with over a quart of the goo.

i slithered as best i could to the bowl, knowing full well what Jen
expected of me. Reaching the slop, i took a little sip, burning with
shame as i humiliated myself in front of these new coeds. i felt
something on the back of my head and then my face was forced to the
bottom of the bowl. i was up to my ears in the slime. It was in my
eyes, and some was inhaled through my nose.

"Better drink up," i heard over the roar of laughter in the one ear
not completely covered.

i began slurping the thick, foul substance as fast as i could.
Several times i nearly chocked, but Jen just pressed down harder,
making it more difficult to drink. Finally, turning blue in the face,
i reached the bottom and managed a breath. Jen took her foot away,
and i lay face down in the bowl, panting for air.

"What do you have to say for yourself licky boy," Jen asked.

"Thank you Princess Jen," i muffled into the bottom of the bowl,
raising more hysterics from the audience.

"Get over here," Jen ordered.

i snaked my way to my princess. Jen extended her beautiful leg and
made a point with her toe. The tip of the maryjane touching the
ground inches in front of my face. Reverently and with loving
adoration, i placed tender kisses to the toe of the pretty shoe,
paying homage to the reason for my existence.

"Wow," one of the girls said. "Does he kiss ass too?"

Jen stood and turned her back to me. She bent forward, flipped her
skirt onto her back, and began swaying her hips from side to side. i
scrambled as fast as i could given my position, to get on my knees. i
was mesmerized by the sight of Jen's fantastic ass. Her pink cotton
panties moving hypnotically. Jen looked back at me as i fixated on
her swaying ass. My face glistened with the spittle and it soaked my
hair.

"You're to disgusting to kiss it now licky boy," she said as i groaned
in agony to the delight of the others.

"Perhaps you can smell, but don't get that filth on my pretty
panties."

i moved closer getting my nose as close as i could to the crack of
Jen's firm, heartshaped ass. Suddenly Jen farted. Impulsively i
inserted my nose as close as i could get it and inhaled her heady
fragrance. My eyes closed as i reveled in the gift from my princess,
unconcerned by the disgust of my audience.

After the comotion died down, the two new girls got up to leave.

"Thank you so much for letting us observe your slave. Do feel free to
bring him by the Gamma house anytime. I think you will find we are
the only sorority worth pledging. Especially for women of your
calibre. You are both welcome anytime. Bye bye licky boy," the girls
said as they left the room.

"Look at you, you're disgusting," Jen said lifting her feet as she sat
on the bed. She then began smearing the spittle with the soles of her
shoes, rubbing it into my face and hair. Treating me as little more
than a doormat. Desparately i attempted to kiss her shoes as they
moved across my face.

"There, that's better," Jen giggled looking at my ludicrous
appearance. By wiping her shoes on my spittle covered face, the dirt
from the soles was smeared all over it. i looked like a street bum
who hadn't washed in weeks.

Jen removed the twine and ordered:

"Get dressed, but leave your fly open and I want the ribbons hanging
out."

i quickly did as my princess ordered and followed behind her as we
left the dorm room. i did my best to hide behind Jen and Jamilar to
avoid letting people see the rediculous pink ribbons hanging out in
front of me.

"Two steps back and off to the side or I'll have you crawl," she
snapped.

"Yes Princess Jen," i said jumping back in quick compliance.

Of course she said this just as a large crowd of coeds were passing by
thus drawing their full attention. i turned red with shame as they
all laughed at my humiliation.

We entered a coffee shop on campus, and the girls took a seat and sent
me to pick up some sparkling water and cake. Shamefaced i went to the
counter to get the refreshments. The coed behind the counter gave me
a disapproving look given the dirt on my face and ribbons hanging out
my fly. i quickly paid for the food and made my way back to our
table.

On the way, to my horror, i spotted Jackie, reading a book at a table
not far from ours. My heart was pounding with apprehension. i
reached the table and it was evident the girls spotted Jackie as well
by their giggling. i was going to pick a chair that would at least
put my back to Jackie when Jen kicked out another chair designed to
put me on full display.

Obediantly i took my seat.

"Would you like something to drink licky boy?" Jen said with a smirk
on her face.

i couldn't respond.

"You must be thirsty, and you bought three mineral waters," as the
girls laughed.

i was still silent.

Jamilar lifted her lovely leg and dropped it into my lap. She began
caressing my cock with her heel. It felt wonderful and the expression
on my face clearly revealed this to the world. What if Jackie saw?

"Remove my shoe," Jamilar ordered.

How far did these vixens intend to go in humiliating me? i knew i
needed to put a stop to this right now. If Jackie saw me she would
surely tell Donna and i would never be able to recover my self respect
again. i delayed, trying to speak out against this public scene. i
just couldn't get myself to object. What type of power did Jen
actually have over me? Just how far could she take me?

Jamilar stuck the spike of her heel into my ball sac and i gasped in
pain. i was a bit to loud and it got Jackie's attention who was now
looking right at us. Jamilar increased the pressure and twisted the
shoe. The pain was clearly evidenced in my dirt streaked face, yet i
did nothing to stop the teen beauty who was enjoying my torment
imensely.

"Remove my shoe," she repeated.

If there was ever a question as to what i would do, it was erased by
the agony i just endured. i was about to take the heel off when the
pain returned.

"Do it properly licky boy," Jamilar ordered.

She said it loud enough for Jackie to hear. i was wholly degraded.
Without thinking i responded:

"Yes Miss Jamilar."

"Call me Royal Mistress Jamilar."

With only the dirt on my face to hide my shame i weakly complied, "Yes
Royal Mistress Jamilar."

Reverently i brought the heel up to my lips. As if kissing a loved
one, i kissed the sole of the sexy shoe. i caught the expression on
Jackie's face as i did. It was one of total disgust. i slid the heel
off and placed it on the table.

i was the color of a ripe tomato as a result of my self abasement.
Jen opened one of the bottles and poured some into the heel.

"Pity we have no champange."

They each poured some for themselves, and Jen said:

"Down the hatch."

i lifted the sexy heel and my cock was straining in its confines
despite my utter degradation, or perhaps because of it. i lifted it
to my lips as the girls burst out laughing. Slowly i drank from the
heel, no longer caring who saw, as my arousal was so intense. i
looked at Jackie and she just shook her head as if to say:

"You pathetic worm."

After shaking the last of the precious drops onto my eager tongue, i
gently kissed the tip of the shoe and placed it on the table.

"On your knees licky boy," Jamilar demanded.

i fell to the floor at her feet.

"I've been in these heels all day and my feet are tired, dirty and
fragrant. Lets see you live up to your name. Clean my foot," Jamilar
ordered.

i was being completely dehumanized. She lifted her sexy leg and
traced my lips with her toes. i forgot about all else as the rich
aroma of her stinky feet hit my senses. i was in a state of pure
nirvana as my tongue reached out and tasted the acrid ambrosia. Like
a hungry a****l starved for a week i licked at her foot, searching
every nook and cranny for Jamilar's delicious crusty toe cheese.
Jamilar grabbed the ribbons hanging from my penis and started yanking
on them. The pain only increased the ecstasy and i screamed out in
utter bliss as i came. Spewwing jet after jet of cum. Exhausted, i
grabbed Jamilar's foot, covering it with adoring kisses.

"Thank you, Thank you, Royal Mistress Jamilar," i pleaded , so
grateful for her treat, as i continued to love her foot.

"Clean up that mess licky boy," Jen ordered.

When Jamilar was tugging on the ribbons, she had pulled my cock out
through the open fly. My massive orgasm was all over the filthy
floor. It had to be the largest load i ever ejaculated. Slowly i
bent to clean my mess.

"On your belly," Jen demanded.

i prostrated myself in front of these young coeds and began mopping
the floor with my tongue, eating my own seed.

"Take your time licky boy. Jamilar and I have lots to talk about,"
Jen said as the girls giggled at the obsequious suplicant at their
feet.

As i pondered my debasement, i heard the sound of high heels clicking
on the tile floor. The heels stopped inches in front of my face. i
was in the middle of licking one puddle and looked up. Jackie looked
down at my filthy face. Thick cum covering my lips and outstretched
tongue. She was the most beautiful woman i'd ever known and yesterday
she was almost my lover.

"You disgusting dog," was all she said. She turned and walked away,
taking with her my former existence as a man.
My Aunt Gave Me A New Life



I am not sure how I ended up wearing her dress or becoming
her bridesmaid, but I did. I am eighteen and I was visiting my
Aunt Nancy in Florida. I had gone down for her wedding and to
house sit while she was on her honeymoon. My parents were only
coming for the wedding. I arrived a week early and made myself
right at home. My Aunt is only a few years older than myself
and quite attractive. She is a successful businesswoman, a
vice-president in a retail store chain. I have often fantasized
what it would be like to make love to her. I also have another
secret fantasy which I have never mentioned to anyone. I have
often seen how popular she is with the guys and her girlfriends
and I have wondered what it would be like to be her. To make a
long story short, the second day at her house she caught me
looking through her drawers and accused me of being perverted
when I confessed my secret desire to wear her clothes and
pretend to be her. I had thought she had gone out for the day
and never heard her return. I was indulging my curiosity and
exploring her wardrobe when she caught me. She had forgotten
her tennis racket and had returned for it.

She was angry with me and said she was going to have to
punish me. I begged her to forgive me and promised her that I
would never do it again. She said that I had violated her
privacy and that a simple apology was not enough. She said a
punishment was the only proper recourse for my actions. I asked
what she had in mind? I nearly fell on the floor when she told
me!

She told me she was going to show me what it was really like
to be a girl. With that she showed me how physically fit she
was. She easily overpowered me and dragged me into the
bathroom. She forced me to remove all my clothes and applied a
depilatory to my entire body. The smell was horrible and it
began to itch like crazy. She finally let me shower and wash it
off. I cried as I saw my body hair go down the drain. Her next
move was to take me back to her room and force me into a
matching black lace bra and panty set. She then said I looked a
little out of place without any breasts to fill my bra cups. I
was then introduced to a product I never knew existed. She told
me it was something she had purchased when she thought she had
breast cancer and was preparing to have a mastectomy. It was a
pair of life-like breast forms. They were filled with a special
gel to give them weight and bounce. There was also some special
electronics built into them to give the wearer distinct shocks
which would make them feel the sensations of touch. If they
were aroused the circuitry would sense it and the nipples would
get hard. "I didn't want to miss the enjoyment of the real
things so I spent the extra money to get the best fake tits
available. I also have this special adhesive which will attach
them to your body permanently. It can only be removed by a
chemical solution which I will not tell you about nor supply
you with until I return from my honeymoon. Hold still while I
give you size 40DD breasts."

I was immediately aware of their weight, movement, and
sensitivity. After putting them on me she took great delight in
pinching the nipples and sending pain and shivers through my
body. Tears actually welled up in my eyes. The worst part of
the embarrassment was that it caused an immediate erection in my
penis. My Aunt laughed at my predicament. She said that my
erection needed to be eliminated and surprised me by dropping to
her knees and giving me the best blow job I had ever had. Then
came the real surprise! She kissed me and in the process
transferred my cum from her mouth into mine. "You want to be a
girl, then you are going to have to learn to swallow cum rather
than produce it. Girls are always on the receiving end of a
penis. I think you will enjoy that and I'll enjoy seeing you
get it."

She refused to explain what she meant by that, but said I
would find out soon enough. She then informed me that she had
already formulated her plan for my punishment quite thoroughly.
"You said you wondered what it was like to be a girl like me and
I'm going to see that your curiosity is fulfilled, but on my
terms not yours. There is a lot we have to do to finish your
transformation. We'll begin by hiding your penis. Bring me the
roll of pink satin ribbon from the box in the closet. We are
going to make a penis sheath if we can. If it works, you'll
not only have a womanly appearance in front, but it will force
you to sit like a woman if you have to pee. I am going to wrap
this ribbon around the shaft of your penis but leave the head of
it exposed so you can urinate. Then I'll pull the ribbon
through the crack of your ass and secure it around your waist,
leaving your penis pulled securely back toward your asshole.
While I do this we need to think up a feminine name for you.
David Allen Reynolds just doesn't fit someone with large tits
that wears dresses. I think I'll call you Melissa Louise
Reynolds after Grandma and your mother. I've almost got this
sheath finished and it seems it is going to work just as I hoped
it would. There appears to be a side benefit from this device
as well. The cords going through your ass have spread your
cheeks a bit and made them seem fuller and more feminine also.
There will be no need to remove the ribbon to go to the bathroom
but you will need to sit for every function unless you want to
clean up the mess each time and look kind of funny in a ladies'
room. Pull up your panties and look at yourself in my full
length mirror over here. We haven't even added clothes or
makeup and I 'd swear you could pass for a girl already. You
are going to look like a super model when we are done and the
guys are going to drool all over you."

I was at a loss for words as I stared at the reflection
before me. I was indeed beautiful. The hairless body with
curves in all the right places and an empty v where my penis had
been. It seems that in pulling my penis back between my legs
that it forced my balls up into my body cavity and the empty sac
acted like the folds of the labia giving me the appearance of a
vagina. I could not help but stare in utter amazement of the
feminine beauty before me and I couldn't wait to see the
finished product. She then insisted on painting my toenails and
fingernails a bright red. Once the polish dried, it was time to
finish getting dressed. Since I appeared to be far more
feminine then she expected that I would be, she placed the
pantyhose back in her drawer and got out a garter belt and some
black seamed hose. She showed me how to roll the hose gently up
my leg and straighten the seams attaching them to the garter
straps. I felt sensual in such sexy lingerie. Next came a
black satin slip, followed by a short black dress and black high
heeled pumps. She pulled my shoulder length hair back into a
ponytail tying it off with a large red bow. She sat me at her
vanity and began applying a full array of makeup and adding some
jewelry. She said I needed some earrings to complete my outfit,
but she only had earrings for pierced ears. "Well, all
punishments should have some pain and suffering involved."

She left me sitting there wondering what in the world she was
talking about and walked out of the room. She returned a few
minutes later carrying a large sewing needle some ice cubes and
a bottle of alcohol. I was praying that she was not going to do
it, but I knew she was. I quickly found myself with a hole in
each ear. She inserted large dangling gold loops into each one.
"Now Melissa it is time for you to see yourself and to begin
your lessons on being a woman. Later on we'll go shopping and
get you fitted for your gown. I have decided to have you as one
of my bridesmaids. I've already called and made the appointment
for your fitting and I've also made an appointment with my
hairdresser to get your hair done. You are going to look so
cute as a blonde!"

I was in tears as I realized how far this punishment was
going. She also informed me that my suitcase and all my male
clothing was going to get mixed up with theirs and follow them
on their honeymoon meaning I would only have her clothes to wear
the entire time they were gone. I was a girl for at least four
weeks and I needed to face it and make the best of it. I was
concerned how far she would go in this masquerade. I already
knew we were going to venture out into public and I had a notion
she was serious about me being a bridesmaid and exposing me to
our entire family as well as leaving me to live as a girl while
she was on her honeymoon. I could think of no way of escaping
her well designed punishment. I had to first learn to act like a
girl and walk in heels as well as sit in a skirt.

She finished my makeup and then asked me to stand and walk to
the mirror. I almost fell over as I tried to stand in the hells
she had placed on my feet. As I sat down again, she called me a
little sissy and told me that the heels I was wearing were only
three inch heels. She became angry when I complained of their
awkwardness. She took them off my feet and said she would teach
me a real lesson. She replaced them with shoes that had a five
inch spiked heel and said now I could suffer some real pain and
challenge. She then lifted me to my feet and made me stand
still for several minutes to get used to balancing in them. I
told her she was crazy when she asked me to walk in them. "Take
very short feminine steps walking on your toes as much as you
can, but get your ass over here to where I am standing."

I stumbled quite a bit but I made it over to her and the
mirror. I was even more shocked at my reflection than I was
before being dressed and made up. She told me I did not have
the time to stand admiring myself in the mirror all day as I had
a lot to learn and not much time to do it in. She had me walk
around the house until I could walk in the heels with some grace
and poise. Next it was time to learn how to sit in a short
skirt without exposing my panties or stocking tops. She made me
practice crossing and uncrossing my legs, sitting and rising, as
well as knowing how to flash a glance if I were flirting with a
man. She also taught me basic feminine mannerisms, such as
tossing my head lightly to clear the hair from my eyes, or
moving my wrists in an alluring way. My voice has always been
in a fairly high pitched range, I have often been addressed on
the phone as madam or miss, so all she had to do was teach me to
use more feminine phrases and words. The time flew by. It was
soon time to go to our appointments.

Our first stop was the bridal shop. I found out that they
already had a dress made that just needed to be fit to me. It
seems that one of her original bridesmaids had become quite ill
and could not make the wedding. My need for punishment provided
her with an easy choice for a replacement. I was very close in
size and I was available. The saleslady said she was surprised
that no alterations were necessary. She also asked if she could
take a picture of me to use for her advertising. She offered to
return the purchase price of all the gowns including the bridal
gown if I agreed to model for their photographer. My sister
made me agree to return the next day and be the model for their
television commercial and newspaper ads. I was also told that
posters would be put up around the store of my pictures. I was
told that I would receive copies of all photos and videos taken
and that my Aunt would receive everything for free. I actually
felt flattered that she thought I looked pretty enough to want
me as a model. "The next thing you know, Melissa, we'll be
seeing you on the cover of Vogue."

Our next stop was at the hair salon. She had a long talk
with her hairdresser before they both came back to where I was
sitting. Aunt Nancy introduced me to Diane and said she knew
exactly what she wanted for me and that I needed to listen to
everything she had to say and do all she told me to. She said
she would run some more errands and return for me in a couple
hours. I watched her walk out the door as I followed Diane to
the shampoo area. She washed my hair and then covered it with a
foul smelling goop and wrapped it in plastic. I sat under the
dryer for a long period of time, then she removed the plastic
and shampooed it once again. This time she trimmed some of my
hair, rolled it up in curlers and applied another foul smelling
goop to it. I spent more time under the dryer before returning
to her styling area to have the curlers removed and the hair
combed out into a very feminine style. She had taken my
straight dark brown hair and turned it into a golden blonde
filled with curls. I was given instructions on how to care for
my new perm and told not to use any shampoo on it for three
days. My Aunt was delighted with their work and thanked them
for doing such a good job on me.

"You look absolutely gorgeous as a blonde. How do you like
it? Michael and his brother are going to love it when they see
you. I told him about you and what I was doing to you. He
thought it was the right thing to do, but agreed that only he
and I needed to know the truth about who you were. Since none
of his family know you anyway, they are not going to be a
problem. The only others coming to the wedding that would know
you are your mother, grandmother and grandfather."

She said she called them and they also agreed to go along
with calling me Melissa and treating me as a girl. They told
her that under the circumstances that this was a very fitting
punishment for me and my mother said that she would arrange for
me to remain a girl when I returned home for the rest of the
summer and make me work as a waitress at our restaurant. She
then informed me that I would be the bridesmaid opposite
Michael's younger brother Philip at the wedding and that the
dinner tonight was an introductory date for us. Philip was two
years older than me. He was a body builder and worked in
construction with his family. I almost died when I saw him. I
have never been interested in guys, but he was a handsome man.
He had muscles everywhere. His jet black hair framed his rugged
face perfectly. The tight jeans he wore emphasized the bulge in
his pants. I could see that he was two or three times larger
than me in that area. I was actually getting the hots for him,
and I think my Aunt knew it. "He's a real hunk isn't he,
Melissa. Look at that cock of his, isn't it gorgeous?
Michael's is about the same size and I love every inch of it.
Don't believe what you have heard, size does make a difference!
Your puny little three incher is disgusting and would do
nothing for me. These guys have real cocks and they do know how
to use them! After seeing you undressed, it was easy to see why
you would rather dress as a girl. That cock of yours is no more
than the size of a large clitoris. Later on if you would like a
good look at a real man's cock I'm sure it could be arranged.
I'd like to see you suck on it. Let's see how the evening goes
first."

The introductions were made and we sat down to have some
dinner. Philip kept trying to find out about me. He was
showing more than casual signs of interest. It was clear that
he found me very attractive as a girl. I was a little set back
by that and did not know how to respond to his advances. I was
thankful for the fact that we were in a restaurant and he could
not gain access to touch me so easily. I knew he wanted to as
he tried holding my hand a couple times during the meal. He
also joked about getting me in his arms later that evening. I
began to wonder what he had been told and how far they were
going to make me go with him. Following dinner it was decided
that we would go to a local night club for some dancing. I was
being forced into his arms. I was not allowed to refuse to
dance with him, but I was scared to death as he held me close to
him for a slow dance. I could even feel that cock of his
getting larger by the minute. It was rubbing into my abdomen as
he continued to pull me closer to him. Though I didn't want to
admit it, I was getting excited also. My breasts were feeling
the passion of our closeness. The electronic circuitry was
working well. My nipples were as hard as his cock. I did not
want the dance to end. I felt strangely comfortable in his
arms. Was I becoming the girl my Aunt had dressed me as? Could
I ever be a man again?

These and many other questions were running through my mind
and I was near panic, as the dance did finally end. I needed to
relieve myself which also added to my dilemma. Which bathroom
do I use. I managed to get my Aunt's attention and she just
laughed and said, "Look at how you are dressed! You are going
to have to use the ladies' room, of course, now aren't you?
what a silly girl you are! Blonde is definitely your color!
Now remember to sit like a proper young lady."

I did sit. I sat pondering all that had taken place. I
thought about my secret fantasies that got me into this mess in
the first place. I also thought about Philip. He was handsome
with a huge cock. He was every girl's dream. I thought about
what it would be like to suck his cock or have it stuffed in my
ass. What was I thinking?! I did not want that huge thing up
my ass or in my mouth! But I was not a boy any longer, I was a
girl for the next four weeks. A girl would want a chance at
that cock. I was convinced from the statements that my Aunt had
made earlier that the choice would not be up to me. She was
probably going to make me do it anyway. Should I beat her to
the punch? Should I just play along? Did I really like being
the girl in a relationship? I certainly was enjoying being the
center of attention for a change and I liked having doors
opened for me and not paying for everything. Being a girl
certainly has its advantages. I was in the bathroom so long
that my Aunt came looking for me. I told her all that was going
through my mind. It seemed natural, now that we were
girlfriends. She laughed and told me that all girls have many
of the same questions when they are out on a date. She also
informed me that she was thinking of making me suck his cock at
some point but wasn't planning on tonight being the night, but
since I brought it up as something I was thinking about, she
might change her mind and give me the opportunity. With the
talking out of the way, she helped me touch up my makeup and
then we returned to the guys at the table.

We continued to dance and talk which only made me like Philip
even more as I got to know more about him. My nipples stayed
hard and I could feel the moistness of precum on my cock and in
my panties. I was drifting into the female role completely that
I could not remember my real identity any longer. I was Melissa
Louise all the way now. Perhaps it was the night, the company,
or just the drinks we had. I don't know what it was but I liked
it. I liked being a girl more and more with each passing
moment. When the time came for us to leave, my arms were around
Philip's waist as we walked to the car. Aunt Nancy invited the
guys back to the house and they both said yes. I rode with
Philip in his truck while Michael rode with Aunt Nancy in her
car. This is the first time I was actually alone with Philip
and I was nervous as hell. He was not overly aggressive, but he
did give me a kiss as he opened the door for me and helped me
into the cab of his pickup. I found myself responding to his
affections and kissing him back. His tongue found its way into
my mouth and though it caught me off guard I did not back away
from it. I sucked it in deeper. His hand rested on my knee all
the way to the house. I received another kiss as he helped me
out of the truck. I did not resist it, but kissed back and
wanted more.

In the house, Aunt Nancy had me make some coffee and serve it
in the living room. I returned to the living room with the
coffee to find her and Michael fondling one another on the sofa.
His hands were busy with her breasts while her hands had
unzipped his pants and were wrapped around his cock. Philip was
not in the room. I set the tray down and excused myself. They
stopped me from leaving the room. They told me that Philip had
gone to the all night convenience store to get a soda and some
other snacks. "This gives us a chance to talk to you, Melissa.
I've told Michael everything you told me this morning and
earlier in the ladies' room. I do not keep secrets from him.
He likes the punishment I'm giving you. We have both decided
that it is in all our best interests to keep your true identity
a secret, but that doesn't mean we can't add a little
humiliation to it or have some fun with your new gender
assignment. We think it would be fun to see you suck Philip's
cock. We want you to attack him as soon as he returns and do
just what you saw me and Michael doing when you walked into the
room with the coffee. Cuddle up to him and let him play with
your breasts while you unzip his pants and release his cock.
Play with it in your hands for a bit and then as you kiss him
slide off the sofa and onto your knees, like a good little slut
and let your mouth go to work kissing and sucking his cock. He
is as big as Michael and it will be difficult to take all of it
into your mouth and throat. In fact, Michael was just saying
that I was the only girl that ever took all of his cock in. If
you can manage to deep throat him like I do for Michael, then
after you get Philip to cum in your mouth I will put on a show
for you by sucking Michael's cock in front of you and I'll let
you video tape it as well as taping us fucking in bed and I will
model nude for you. That should feed your male fantasies about
what it would be like to make love to me. If you can't take all
of him into your mouth then I get to watch as he climaxes in
your mouth anyway and you have to go out with him on a date
every night until the wedding and suck him off each night in
front of us. While we are on our honeymoon you must video tape
for us at least three more blow jobs with Philip and one with
someone else of your choosing. Are you up to the challenge?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"No, I guess you really don't, Melissa. My brother is going
to enjoy your services. He has already told us how much he
likes you and how horny he is being with you on a date. I'm
glad he doesn't know your true identity, he'd be devastated. He
is not gay, but I think he would turn gay with you in the girl's
role. We may tell him when we get back from the honeymoon and
see what happens then. I would hope we could see him fuck you
up that cute ass of yours. After all you won't be a real woman
until you've been fucked like one."

"What if I decide to tell him tonight who I really am?"

"Then we will see that you get fucked tonight and that you
have many more humiliating experiences as a girl. I have a
friend that would be glad to meet a girl like you and keep you
barefoot and pregnant in his kitchen. My brother might also
have some things he would want to do to you, or maybe he'll keep
you as his whore for a while himself. Don't cross us, your Aunt
and I will win easily. She has already turned you into a model
at the bridal shop, arranged for your mother to keep you as a
girl for the rest of the summer and can easily do something else
to you. How do you think you will like being a waitress? I
hear some of those truckers that come into the restaurant really
like to get it on with the waitresses. Perhaps you would like
to spend your summer here with us. What do you think Nancy,
wouldn't she make a good sales clerk at one of your stores, or
maybe she would better suited to working as a secretary at my
company? Wait! I've got an even better idea! She could be a
cocktail waitress at the Pink Bikini! Can you picture her
walking around in one of their pink bikinis and heels taking
orders for drinks from guys watching other girls strip on the
stage?"

"Michael, you are getting too carried away with all this. If
she wants to tell Philip all about herself then let it be
between them. Philip should decide on the consequences. She
should not be punished for telling the truth on their first
date, but she should have to suffer through whatever comes of
it. Who knows there may be two weddings on Saturday. Philip
may want to keep her as a wife for the next four weeks. Look at
her, Michael, you have to admit that she is pretty and desirable
as a female. Philip is a horny male and if he is at all like
you he needs someone to fuck everyday. She is easy and
available. He just may want to take advantage of it. Melissa,
I'm not sure what will happen if you tell Philip the truth. It
is the right thing to do, but if you tell him then you have to
tell everyone you meet and since you are going to have to live
as a girl while we are gone, how many people do you want knowing
about you?"

"What if Philip wants to fuck me? I can't run away from him.
He won't keep taking a no. I know because I have a hard time
when I go out with a girl more than once and get horny each time
that I have a hard time accepting a no from her. I know the
pain that having blue balls brings. Once he takes my panties
off he is going to find out the truth. Wouldn't it be better if
I told him before it ever got that far?"

"You are right. It would be better for all of us if he was
told. What are you going to do if he rejects you? I can tell
from your argument that you want to be fucked by him. How much
of a girl have you become?"

"I don't know. It is all so new that I have not had time to
figure out my feelings. Yes, on one hand, I do want to see what
it is like to be fucked by him. On the other hand, I feel
disgusted by even the thought of it. I am so confused. I'm
glad you are in charge of what happens. I wouldn't be able to
make up my mind."

"Michael, what do you think?"

"I don't like deceiving my brother, but we can't have the
whole world know that we are punishing your nephew this way. I
guess we should tell Philip the truth about his date and see
what he wants to do, but it should be after the blow job so he
can evaluate her performance as the female in their
relationship. Besides, I'm a bit selfish. I'd like to see how
she does in that contest you have devised for her. It turns me
on to think of getting to see her try to stuff a cock deep into
her throat. Time to decide what to do, I see Philip's truck
coming down the road."

"Okay, Melissa, here is the deal. You go through with the
blow job scenario that we described earlier. After he has cum,
then Michael and I will be the ones to tell him about you. He
will be given the opportunity to spend the night with you or
reject you, though I honestly do not think he will. He will
also be asked to help us in your punishment and given the
opportunity to suggest ideas which will be decided on by
Michael, myself and Philip if he chooses to participate. You
take the chance that humiliation will be wide spread. Are the
terms acceptable to you?"

I answered in the affirmative just as Philip came through the
door. I greeted him at the door with a kiss and took his
packages from him. He sat on the sofa and I sat down beside
him. He did not wait for any signals but pulled me into his
arms and began kissing me full on the lips. I did everything
the way my aunt had told me to do it. As we continued to kiss,
he began to play with my breasts and I undid his belt and zipper
releasing his cock from its confines. I worked it with my hand
and tickled his balls with my fingers. I felt it grow even
larger than it had been. I worked up the courage to sink to my
knees before him. I stared at it for a few minutes. I studied
all the bulging veins in the shaft and the soft curve of its
purple head with its small slit in the very tip of it. I was
now even more amazed by its size as I saw it up close. I felt a
desire to kiss it out of awe. I swallowed hard and then lowered
my mouth toward it. I kissed it softly and ;et the bulbous head
pass between my lips and into my mouth. I had expected the
taste to be quite foul. It wasn't. It was very salty, but at
the same time had a sweetness to it. I licked its head with my
tongue and discovered I liked the taste and took more of the
cock into my mouth. I was determined to show my aunt how good a
cock sucker I could be. I would be able to get this huge cock
into my throat or die trying. As soon as it hit the back of my
mouth I had to gag on it. I felt sick from it, but I wasn't
giving up yet. I tilted my head a bit and took it in again.
This time it went further in. I paused as I approached the gag
point. I waited until I was breathing freely with my nose and
then let a bit more of his sweet tender cock into my mouth. As
I continued to take it deeper and deeper into my throat, I found
that if I paused once in a while I could control my gag reflex.
In only a few minutes I was kissing his balls. I had done it.
I had swallowed all of it. Now the concentration was on making
him cum. I used my tongue as much as I could but it was pretty
much held in one position by the enormous size of his cock
filling my mouth and throat to capacity. I knew I would have to
treat my mouth as a cunt and have it go in and out using the
friction to bring about his ejaculation.

I started very slowly, but as I relaxed, I began to increase
the pace of motions. My head was going up and down on that long
thick shaft. As I got my lips to the head I was able to see my
saliva mixed with his precum. This sight only increased my
desire for it and I began attacking him with a greater vigor.
It seemed like an eternity, but it was only a few minutes before
I felt his whole body tense up and he exploded into my mouth.
Spurt after spurt of his warm seminal fluid filled my mouth and
throat. I gagged at first but found a swallowing rhythm that
prevented it. It tasted wonderful, and I felt positively
satisfied that I had succeeded in emptying him so well. I
deserved the reward I was receiving of his warm salty-sweet
milk. I had worked hard for it and I knew the pleasure it was
bringing him to have such a release. I also felt a deep inner
yearning to have him fuck me and spend the night holding me in
his arms. A woman has her needs as much as a man, and at this
moment I was all woman and enjoying it. Once the spasms ceased
I cleaned off his shaft with my tongue trying to find as much of
his cum as I could even sucking it out of his pubic hairs. He
simply fell back against the sofa in exhaustion and ecstasy.

"That was quite a display, Melissa. You have won the bet,
but first we have that other matter to get out of the way.
Philip are you still with us?"

"Yes, why?"

"Because, dear brother, we have something to tell you and
need you alert enough to hear it. We have been deceiving you
all night. Melissa is not Nancy's niece. She is really her
nephew. I know it is kind of hard to believe considering how
pretty she is and how wonderfully she can suck a cock. But, it
is true. She is a he. Let me tell you what happened from the
beginning."

Philip listened intently as Michael retold the story he had
gotten from Aunt Nancy. He still had a hard time believing that
I was really a boy. He even emphasized that they were telling
him now at my insistence on telling him the truth. Michael did
not leave out a single detail and included the fact that I had
said that I would like him to fuck me. He insisted that I was a
girl, so they made me raise my skirt and pull my panties down so
he could see my penis tucked up between my legs. Nancy added,
"Philip, you are right about one thing she is not a man, but she
is male. Look at the size of that puny little thing between her
legs. It's useless and degrading. I know some girls that have
clits bigger than that. So what do you think? Do we keep the
secret in the family and have some fun with her or what?"

"I can go along with that. I just want one ground rule set
down from the beginning, however. She remains as a girl in our
relationship. I will have nothing to do with that thing she
calls a cock. She gets fucked as a woman and sucks me off, but
hers stays hidden. Is that okay with everyone?"

I had no say in the matter, but it was agreeable with me.
Aunt Nancy and Michael both agreed also. Philip said that I
could be his steady girl all the time I was in Florida. I would
have to date him and he would use me sexually. As they were
discussing my fate, they decided that it would be fun to have me
live as Philip's wife for the next four weeks. I would have to
cook for him and have sex with him at his command. They decided
it would be fitting to have a mock wedding to commemorate the
occasion. Since my mother and grandparents were due in Florida
the next day, they decided to wait until then to have the
ceremony and said it would be fitting if we did not consummate
our marriage until after the ceremony. Aunt Nancy said that she
would talk to the bridal shop owners about getting me a bridal
gown for tomorrow night during my modeling session for them.
Philip was asked to wear a tux and Michael would be the best man
and Aunt Nancy would be my maid of honor. My grandfather was
going to be asked to give me away. I was not sure how my mother
and grandparents were going to react to this situation. I knew
what Aunt Nancy had told me when they were told about me
dressing as a girl, but how would they react to me taking on the
role of a man's wife which would include having sex with him. I
had to wait to find out that Aunt Nancy had already discussed
the possibility with them. They thought it was going a bit too
far, but felt it was her decision to make and they would not
interfere with it and would gladly help out with my humiliation
any way they could. At this point I was already facing a
problem. I was feeling a strong desire to be Philip's sex
partner. The thought repulsed me and yet inwardly I wanted to
have him fuck me. The discussion came to an end as Aunt Nancy
announced that it was time for her to pay off on the bet we had
made. She dropped to her knees and told me to get her video
camera out and start taping her. She wrapped her lips around
Michael's cock and in mere minutes she was receiving his cream
down her throat. I then followed them into the bedroom with the
camera and taped them as they fucked for the next hour. Before
climbing into bed Aunt Nancy did a strip tease for the camera.
She continued dancing in the nude for several minutes before
jumping on top of Michael and going at it with him. They were
like two a****ls in heat as they grabbed at one another and
began their sexual activities. Michael wasted no time on
foreplay as he took aim with his cock and shoved it into her wet
cunt. He pumped her hard and furious with it, as she screamed
for him to, "Fuck me harder! Shove that cock in me as hard as
you can! I want to feel you coming out of my mouth. Oh, Yes!
Give it to me, Michael!"

I took pictures of them from every angle and I could feel my
insides longing to be in her position having a large juicy cock
filling me to the depths of my bowels. I longed to have lips
pressed to mine and have hands squeezing my breasts. Most of
all I wanted that cock pumping in and out of me bringing me the
ecstasy that I could see on Aunt Nancy's face and hear in her
words as she continued to beg for more. I wanted to be a woman,
and I even started to hold the camera in only one hand and reach
out toward Philip's cock. He had become rock hard himself. I
undid his zipper once again and let his pants fall to the floor.
I wrapped my hand around his thick shaft and began stroking
him. I didn't care how steady the picture was I was going to
get as much cock as I could. After filming Michael's climax and
the way Aunt Nancy used her tongue to clean him off, I set the
camera down and began deep throating Philip in earnest. If I
couldn't have his cock inside my ass then I wanted it in my
mouth. I attacked him as voraciously as I could. I was
determined to drain him of all the creamy white cum he could
produce. He did not disappoint me. He poured gallon upon
gallon down my throat and he collapsed from the exhaustion of my
attack and how much I had drained him. After licking him clean,
I looked up to see that my efforts were now a part of the video
tape as I saw my aunt standing there with the camera in hand and
running. "You will have to let me video tape your marriage
ceremony and your wedding night deflowering as well to complete
this tape."

It was at this time that Aunt Nancy had me dress in a night
gown and removed my makeup. she gave me a silk robe to wear
over it and then we said goodnight to Michael and Philip. We
each got kissed as they said goodnight and walked out the door.
Aunt Nancy made me pack all my male clothing into my suitcase
and deliver it to her room. "I don't want you to be allowed to
dress as anything but a female and if I have your clothes, you
will have no choice since there is nothing of Michael's here
yet. I'll see you in the morning when we will have some more
lessons in being a woman. I'll teach you how to do your own
makeup, and how to style your own hair. Have a good night's
sleep, Melissa."

It was hard to sleep thinking about all that happened to me
that day. I tossed and turned as I began to think about the day
to come and the next four weeks as Philip's wife. I thought
about my return home and how my mother had told my aunt that I
would have to work as a waitress at our restaurant. Most of my
thoughts focused on the fact that I liked being a girl, but that
I knew I shouldn't want to be one. I asked myself if this is
what I really wanted in my life and whether or not I would ever
go back to being a boy. My mind raced about all the different
things that could happen. I wondered what my mother was going
to say when she stepped off the plane and greeted her daughter
rather than her son. I also wondered what my grandfather was
going to say about me becoming a girl, after all the time he
spent taking me fishing and to ball games. I thought about
losing my anal virginity to Philip. I wanted it and yet I was
frightened of it. What was going to be expected of me over the
next four weeks as his wife? Was I just there for sex or would
we be going places and doing things together? I wouldn't find
out until it happened.

In the morning, Aunt Nancy brought me into her room to select
an outfit for me to wear for the day. Our first activity was to
go to the bridal shop for my modeling session. They had hired a
professional photographer and a beautician for the job. I was
dressed and made-up in many different ways. They had me as a
bride, a bridesmaid, a prom queen, and as an formal dinner
guest. I had forgot to mention that they had also hired a
professional male model to be the groom, the usher, my prom date
and my dinner e*****. Photographs were taken of me separately
as well as in his company. It took almost seven hours to
complete the session. I was very tired when we were done. Aunt
Nancy told the people about me going through a pretend wedding
and asked if I could get a bridal gown to use and keep for my
future. They were happy to oblige. The photographer liked my
work as a model so well, he insisted on helping me build a
portfolio and putting me in touch with a modeling agency. He
made an appointment for the following week to take some
portraits of me and to introduce me to an agent. From the
bridal shop we had to go to the airport to pick up my mother and
grandparents. They were shocked at how pretty I was as a girl
more so than seeing me dressed as one. Aunt Nancy told them
about the modeling job and the offer from the photographer.
They were impressed and said they could see where I might
qualify for that type of career. I died of embarrassment. Aunt
Nancy then told them about the wedding that was going to be held
that night and they all had a good laugh and said they hoped I
would be happy with him. I was then told that I would be kept
as a girl when I returned home as well and that my mother had
already thrown out all my male clothing after Aunt Nancy had
called her and told her about my desires and her punishment.
She even told me that if I decided to go to college I would go
as a girl and that she had contacted a friend of hers who could
have all my id's and records changed to show me as a girl. I
was fighting a losing battle as I realized they were doing
everything to me except removing my penis. I could do nothing
to prevent it. Mother even handed me three bottles of pills. I
was informed that one was a prescription for birth control
pills, the second was female hormones, and the third was a d**g
I had never heard of but I was told that it was to reduce my
testosterone level. I was to be transformed into a girl as much
as they could without surgery. All of the prescriptions were
issued to Melissa Louise Reynolds.

"You look so beautiful as a girl. When Nancy told me about
dressing you as a girl, I tried to picture what you would look
like and I knew you could probably pass as a girl, but I
expected you to be a bit more plain in appearance. Those
breasts that Nancy gave you make all the difference in the world
and the fact that you have soft features only makes me wonder if
I ever really had a son. I think you have always been a girl in
disguise. I am glad that the real you has finally emerged. I
am sorry i only have a few hours right now to get to know my
daughter more. But you will be getting married and going off
with your husband like a good wife should. I hope we can do
some things together before I return home Sunday. I think it
will be fun to do some shopping together."

My grandfather also said he liked the way I looked as a girl
and said he had always thought of me more as a sissy than a boy
by the way I was never really happy when we went fishing and I
never played any sports. "The truth always has a way of coming
out, Melissa. It may take some years, but it always comes out.
The truth is you are more suited to being a girl than you are a
man. I'm happy with you no matter what you decide about your
life and your grandmother and I will always love you dearly."

Aunt Nancy got the car while I helped them get their luggage
and listened to them talk about how I made such a pretty girl
and that they hoped I would be a good wife for Philip. Mother
told me what she thought I should do for him on my wedding night
and talked to Aunt Nancy about doing a little shopping for a
sexy see through negligee for me to wear in the bedroom with
Philip. She also bought me several bra and panty sets with
matching garter belts and teddies. She wanted me to always
appear my sexiest for him from the skin out. This had become
more than a game. It had gone far beyond the form of a
punishment. It may have started out as one but it had become a
new life style. David Allen Reynolds had ceased to exist from
this day. Melissa Louise Reynolds was now living in my body and
she was one of the sexiest and luckiest girls alive. She had a
family who loved her and a boyfriend that wanted her in his sex
life and a new career in modeling to pursue. She was looking
forward to every new day and every new event. Not knowing what
was going to happen next was part of the fun in her life. She
drew each breath with a renewed vigor as she thought about her
wedding night to come. Could she fulfill all of her beloved
Philip's needs? The conversation on the way back to Aunt
Nancy's house consisted mainly of plans for my wedding that
night. We discussed where I would spend my wedding night and
whether or not I would go on a honeymoon. My grandparents
decided that there wedding gift for me would be to pay for three
nights at a Walt Disney World Hotel. Philip and I would not
return until the night before Aunt Nancy's wedding for the
rehearsal.

We brought in all of the luggage and packages. I was made to
carry all of them to the appropriate rooms. My male clothing
was then thrown into a trash bag and my suitcase filled with
several female outfits for me to wear on my honeymoon. The next
couple of hours were spent getting me ready in my bridal gown.
Philip arrived right on time and looked quite handsome in his
tux. A make shift altar was erected in the living room. I
also discovered that somehow they had talked the minister of
their church into performing the ceremony. They had even
managed to get us a real marriage license from the town clerk.
This marriage was going to be legal and binding upon Melissa and
Philip. As long as I remained Melissa, which everyone was
insisting upon, I was going to be Philip's wife unless we went
through a divorce. I cannot possibly explain my feelings as I
walked with my grandfather down the aisle as the wedding march
played on the stereo. I was holding onto his arm for support as
I almost fainted when I realized just how far this punishment
had brought us. I was trapped and there was no escape possible.
We reached the altar where Philip and Michael were standing on
one side and Aunt Nancy was on the other having walked down just
in front of us. My grandfather took my hand and placed it in
Philip's then turned to sit down.

"Dearly Beloved, We are gathered here this evening to join in
holy matrimony the two hearts of Melissa Louise Reynolds and
Philip James Morrison. If there is anyone present that objects
to this union, let them speak now or forever hold their peace.
Do you Philip James Morrison tale Melissa Louise Reynolds to be
your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold in sickness and
in health? For richer or poorer? To love and honor until death
do you part?"

"I do."

"Do you Melissa Louise Reynolds take Philip James Morrison to
be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold, in
sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, to love, honor and
obey until death do you part?"

"I do."

"Having made these vows, are there symbols of them to be
presented? Philip, place the ring on her finger and repeat after
me. With this ring, I thee wed. This ring is the symbol of my
love for you and shall serve as a bond between us forever. Now
Melissa, place the ring on his finger and repeat after me. With
this ring, I thee wed. This ring is the symbol of my love for
you and shall be a bond between us forever. Having heard your
vows before these witnesses with the power vested in me by God
and the State of Florida, I now pronounce you husband and wife.
You may kiss the bride. And now it is my pleasure to present to
all Mr. and Mrs. Morrison."

We had a small reception but with all the formalities of a
first dance, a champagne toast, the cutting of the cake, the
bouquet toss and the garter toss. They even threw rice as we
left to go on our honeymoon. Philip and I ran to his car which
had been decorated for the occasion, tin cans and all. We drove
to Walt Disney World in Orlando. It was only a few towns away.
The desk clerk checked us in and congratulated us on our
marriage. He had a bellhop e***** us to our room. Philip
scooped me into his arms and carried me over the threshold as a
smiling bellhop looked on. I was in shock as I was not
expecting it. Philip dropped me on the bed and tipped the
bellhop. The moment of truth was now here. Philip approached
me and threw his arms around my waist, drawing me close to him.
His lips came pressing hard and moist onto mine. His tongue
came through my lips seeking the depths of my mouth. He was
telling me in no uncertain terms that he wanted to make love to
me. The passion of the moment was getting to each of us. He
helped me unzip my dress and it fell to the floor. I helped him
remove his tuxedo and his underwear. I dropped to my knees and
sucked his cock into my mouth and worked it until I could kiss
his balls with my lips. His juices tasted even better than the
day before. He seemed harder and more determined to fill me
with his love meat. He was on the verge of ejaculating when he
pushed me onto my back and raised my legs into the air. He
quickly removed my panties and then put his saliva covered cock
into my ass. It was very painful when he first forced his way
in, but as he took his time and began to work his way in and
then back out again the pain surrendered to pleasure. He shoved
his huge cock deep into my bowels. I wanted it to come out of
my mouth so I could taste it as well as feel it. The pleasure
that evolved as he worked that monster of his was indescribable.
I got to the point that I did not want him to stop. I was
screaming for him to "FUCK ME HARDER" He was happy to oblige.

His rhythm became faster and faster. His sense of urgency
and desire were at its peak. Then with one last thrust he
buried himself deep inside of me and released his seed. That
delicious white cream filling my insides sent shivers down my
spine. My insides were filled with a warm satisfaction. I
could feel every spurt, every spasm of his cock. I was a true
woman now, and I loved the feeling. Philip collapsed on top of
me as his ejaculation came to an end. He kissed me and said he
had never felt so completely drained in all his life. He said
he was glad that I was his wife and that he was looking forward
to many nights of wonderful sex with me for years to come. He
told me that he had spoken to my mother and that it was agreed
that it would be my choice to live back in Massachusetts or here
in Florida. He had just finished getting his bachelor's degree
in business administration and he could settle anywhere with me.
I chose to return to Massachusetts. I knew that I could work
at the restaurant until he found a job and that jobs were more
available for him in Massachusetts. We both decided to try to
make the marriage work and to have me become a woman fully with
the surgery. There was no turning back. The road ahead would
be filled with many bumps and embarrassing moments, but we were
now determined to make it work. family caused the most
difficulty. Sex, however, was never a disappointment for either
of us and there was always something new to try.



THE END (for now!)

Melissa Louise Morrison



























Servant of Servants

by an60355@anon.penet.fi (Francis R.)

I nervously climbed the stairs and searched in dirty corridors smelling
of refuse before I found the apartment. For my heartbeat to steady, I
paused briefly before knocking, and noticed the television set playing
inside. Some seconds later the door was opened by Sabrina, to whom I had
come to offer myself as a slave.
She was carelessly dressed in cheap worn-out clothes, a knitted plaid
covering her shoulders; she was eating a sandwich and, chewing, looked
at me for a few seconds, then asked me what I wanted, expressing disgust
and boredom.
I candidly answered that I had been told she might accept me as her
slave. She swallowed, took another bite and, again chewing, grunted and
indicated that I could follow her inside. She opened the toilet door and
pushed me in, telling me to take off all my clothes and wait.
She locked me in and I took off my clothes and squatted on the cold,
tiled floor. I considered masturbating while kissing the toilet seat, to
have some anticipated, indirect contact with my future mistress, but I
understood how I would be punished if caught in such an act on the very
first evening of my bondage, and so I only experienced the psychological
satisfaction of feeling my penis hard with excitement between my legs.
I spent quite some time waiting idly for my new mistress: she watched
the television show I had so boldly interrupted. Then she came to the
toilet, opened it and walked a few steps towards the living room, where,
slapping her thigh as if calling a dog, she told me to follow her, and I
obeyed, crawling on all fours behind her, into her tiny living room,
which was decorated with damp wallpaper and furniture fit for the
rubbish heap.
She sat down in a chair, crossed her legs and ordered me to kneel
before her; she excelled at commanding, stating her wishes with such
energy that she could make mere words be as effective as a sharp blow of
her clenched fist on a servant's genitals - which is no gratuitous
metaphor: during my brief subsequent servitude I had the opportunity to
compare both and verify its literal truth.
I was ordered to look up into her eyes, which expressed superiority,
while my head remained at a few inches from the sole of her sandal; I
admired her heavy breasts and her strong arms, which she held crossed
under them, naked to the elbow; her muscles clearly betrayed that she
performed manual labour regularly.
Looking down on me, she asked me for my name, address, job, earnings
etc. in minute detail; my answers had to be polite, complete, concise
and clear, lest her shod foot would strike out over the few inches
separating it from my head, and throw me down on the dirty carpet, only
for me to resume my position until the next kick.
Satisfied with my answers, she asked me whether I was sure of what I
was doing and I bent down before her while answering "yes", very close
to the insteps of her feet; she repeated her question and, looking at
her strong feet and painted toe-nails, I confirmed; she placed her right
foot on my neck, the heel of its sandal touching my head. Thus
annihilated under her foot, I felt delicious sexual excitement and
pressed my erect penis to the floor.
Sentence by sentence, she dictated the oath I had to swear, in which I
pledged my total obedience and submission to my mistress, whoever she
might be in the future, and gave her unconditionally all rights: to use
me, to sell me and to wound, maim or kill me, or to let someone else do
these to me; I would accept that my Owners use me as an object.
When I had sworn this by Almighty God, she pulled away her foot and,
seeing me remain prostrate before her, she said I was now allowed to
kiss her foot once, so I pressed my lips to the tip of her right foot,
the one which had crushed me, and kissed it along with the leather of
her sandal, picking up a trace of cheap perfumed soap.
She pulled back her foot and explained that to kiss her feet was a
great reward I would have to deserve, since she personally quite
disliked the feeling; this prohibition extended to the soles of her feet
and, more surprisingly, to the inner and outer soles of her sandals and
shoes.
Then she told me that her evening job was to clean offices in a
certain building, and fixed our next appointment there, just before her
working hours. In the toilet, she picked up my clothes and threw them
out, and I followed them; while I dressed silently in the corridor, she
forbade me to climax until the next meeting, and told me she would have
me castrated if I disobeyed.

* * *

Although I intended to obey her, I climaxed repeatedly in my sleep (or
at least that's my story), so, on the day of the appointment, I felt
quite worried in the lift as I went up to the floor where Sabrina would
meet me.
The door opened and she was standing there, waiting for me, now
wearing a green apron and holding a black leather whip. Taking the whip
in her right hand, she pointed it towards her feet, and I obeyed her in
kneeling down just before her, but dared not press a kiss to the tips of
her sandals.
She asked why I was still dressed and, when I wanted to answer, threw
the whip on my back and told me to keep quiet; the blow did not hurt me,
for I was still protected by my clothes. She then ordered me to take
them all off and I obeyed, rapidly taking off my jacket, tie, shirt,
shoes, socks etc.
When I was almost naked another woman came in, Rita, a buxom brunette,
also dressed in the regulation green apron, but I noticed she wore brown
stockings and green sneakers. I hesitated, looking at Rita, but my
mistress, turning back, saw her friend and told me I would serve her as
a second mistress.
I took off my slip and tried to hide my nakedness a little, but
Sabrina said there would be no impropriety for me to be naked and
receive punishment in the presence of Rita; she then threw the lash
repeatedly on my back - the strokes were very painful now, but I
received them silently, prostrate at her feet.
She told me that my normal greeting of her at the beginning of my work
would henceforth be to kiss her knees (under no circumstance her feet!),
and I had to do so at once, pressing my lips to her kneecaps, with
silent delight, touching her thighs with the tips of my fingers when my
hands slid up under her apron.
After a few kisses she stopped me, making the word sound as a stroke
of the whip. I lay naked and vulnerable before her when she asked me
whether I had obeyed her and abstained from climaxing? She added to this
that my punishment would be castration if I had disobeyed, but that it
also certainly would be castration were I to lie.
Bending before her and apprehensively squeezing my penis between my
legs, I admitted guilt. She walked around me, to see me from behind, and
ordered me to open my legs: I knew that she was about to punish me, but
nevertheless obeyed. She then kicked my testicles half a dozen times,
hitting them with the tip of her right sandal, ignoring my cries of
pain; then she announced that my actual punishment would be postponed,
but that I really should obey her totally, even in her absence.
I was then set to work, performing the ladies' cleaning task on the
whole floor assigned to them. This was to become the core element of my
bondage to Sabrina and Rita: they simply had me to all their work, and I
was very happy to comply.
During the work, they ignored me most of the time, but every now and
then Rita would approach silently to inspect, and if I displeased her
she would suddenly throw the whip on my back to punish my shortcomings.
The women ordinarily chatted and gossiped together, so that I had to
listen carefully during work to notice if my Mistress Sabrina clapped
her hands once, thereby calling me to perform some menial task for her
and Rita, like pouring out coffee or clearing the table.
Small mistakes in their personal service were punished by loud slaps
to my face, whereas mistakes in the cleaning were punished using the
whip: I then had to kneel at the feet of the lady who wanted to see me
punished and I could look at them while the other lady would whip me. At
the end of these punishments, Rita always allowed me to kiss the tips of
her shoes.
When I have completed the chores, the women come to inspect my work;
they take me along with them and look at the different rooms I had to
clean, at the toilets and the cleaning tools. They carry out this
inspection barefoot, carrying their sandals so as not to leave any marks
on the clean floor. I must lick clean all neglected, dirty spots they
find, before being whipped on site for my carelessness.
Back at the lift, I kneel at the ladies' feet to wash them before
helping them put back on their shoes; I must use what is available: cold
water and detergent soap. With Rita, I must take great care to dry her
stockings too; the pleasure I feel when holding my ladies' feet and
making myself useful to them far exceeds the pain of the corrections and
the discomfort of the work. When my ladies' feet are clean, they put on
their coats and leave. I can then also dress and take the next lift
down.

* * *

At the end of the week, when the evening work was done, my Mistresses
briefly discussed what to do with me during the week-end; while I washed
her feet, Rita recalled the ancient truth that a man alone is in bad
company, so the ladies decided to toss a coin in order to determine who
of them would take me along to her place until next Monday evening. Rita
won (or maybe lost, from her viewpoint): I would stay with her.
Next, I crawled to Sabrina to wash her feet, too, regretting that she
never let me kiss them; with marked irony, she told Rita: "Since you'll
have the privilege of his presence, I'll just take this in compensation"
and picked my credit card from my jacket.
"Boy!" she called me to attention, heavily pressing the sole of her
foot on my neck, increasing my erection even further - "How much
immediate credit does it have?"
"$6000, Mistress."
"That'll do." I could hear her smile through her voice. "What's the
code?" She increased the weight on my neck to ensure a speedy answer.
"Thirty-five twenty, Mistress."
"You IDIOT!" - and she slapped the lash over the pink traces she had
inflicted earlier, when Rita had found a stray cigarette end in a
supposedly cleaned corridor - "Couldn't you have changed that to
something easier to remember?" I remained silent: there was no reasoning
against the charge.
"Thirty-five twenty" Sabrina repeated to herself, while Rita had me
stand up before her, still naked, untied her belt and slipped it around
my neck, to use it as a rudimentary lead.
"Thirty-five twenty" Sabrina repeated, leaving, and Rita had me take
my clothes along with me; we took the following lift down to the
underground parking and, while I was afraid that someone might stop the
lift on its way down and see us, Rita just carelessly took hold of my
testicles and squeezed them a little.
In the parking, she took me to her car and had me put my clothes in
the boot, then told me to get in there too, and I had to curl up as well
as possible, wedging myself between my clothes and sundry old rags and
mechanic tools and the spare tyre before she could close the boot.
She was in no hurry, knowing that I was safely locked up; I heard her
switch on the radio and she probably smoked a cigarette before even
starting the car. Then she drove away, quite slowly, maybe because she
thought I might be hurt by the disparate rubbish I shared the boot with;
in the meantime, I recalled how my Mistresses had bossed me around and I
slowly masturbated thinking of them, especially of Rita, who was
certainly the most attractive in her unsophisticated bounciness; then I
wiped off the semen with one of the rags.
Finally, we arrived at our destination, and she got out of the car to
let me out of the boot; we were in another underground parking lot, and
she had me follow her up to her apartment, which, I found out later, was
situated in a council estate building neighbouring Sabrina's.
Still being pulled by the improvised lead, still naked and holding my
rolled-up clothes, I was led into her apartment, where she untied my
neck and resolutely grabbed my penis to pull me behind her into her
bedroom.
There, she turned to me, pushing her large breasts against me, and
looked me in the eyes; she placed her hands on my shoulders, as shorter
women do when they want to be kissed, but pressed them down a little,
indicating that I should kneel down. When my head was at the height of
her navel, she placed her hands on me and again slightly pushed me, so I
went further down, all the way to her knees and her ankles, and then she
placed her shod right foot on my head and pushed it completely to the
floor: "That's your place, boy, never forget it!"
Then she let me untie her shoe-laces and take off her shoes; I
delighted in handling her elegant little stockinged feet, and
spontaneously pressed my lips to their insteps while supporting their
soles, but she soon kicked me away and added two firm kicks to my
genitals in order to calm me down, which worked.
Then she directed me to her wardrobe where I had to fetch some party
clothes for her: stiletto-heeled patent leather mules and an assorted
micro-skirt and skimpy top. Next, I helped her in taking off her
stockings and working clothes and putting on the new items; she sat down
before a mirror and had me brush her hair while she selected cheap,
plastic jewels that might gain splendour under erratic lighting, and put
on excessive make-up.
Before leaving on her clicking stiletto heels, she guided me into the
living-room and, holding my testicles, instructed me to clean her small
apartment; as a reward, I would be allowed to polish her collection of
boots afterwards - "But not before EVERYTHING's clean!" she added,
tugging at my scrotum.
Those were easy orders to obey - one need not be a quantum physicist
to vacuum carpets properly - and two hours later I could sit down on the
bedroom floor, naked, and start a minute polishing of my Mistress' boot
collection, none of which was actually in need of treatment, but I
enjoyed imagining Rita wearing them, and myself imploring her, prostrate
at her feet.















THE ULTIMATE REVENGE


(mm, nc, magic, tg, femdom) By: Realman

This story is intended for adults above the age of 18. If you are not
18 years or older, please do not read any further.





Jack woke up nude and strapped on a bed in some kind of clinic and was
asking himself why he was there and who brought him here. The door opened
and a very good looking woman came by the bed.

"Who are you and why I am naked and strapped on that bed?" asked Jack.

"My name is Brenda and I run an agency that specializes in receiving
complaints of women sexually harassed by men."

"That doesn't explain why I am here!"

"Oh yes, it does. We received over ten complaints about your behavior.
You harassed eight of them and ****d the two others. We have proof of
these acts."

"These hysterical women all enjoyed being crushed by me. Sometimes they
deserved a little male authority just to remind them who's the boss!"

"Obviously, they didn't share your opinion and they told me you must pay
for the hell you made them live."

"But, you know, I am a young man and I love women. Sometime, I can't
control myself. I need to have them for me... please don't hurt me."

"Our agency never hurt anybody...at least not physically. You're a
tough case and we decided that you deserve strong punishment. We will
change your behavior with a special serum specially designed for pigs like
you. Your problem is about power and control so we chose a serum that is
design to make you loose these features."

She took out a vial and a syringe from a drawer and fill up the syringe.
Then she look at Jack and told him: "I will now inject you with the
ultimate revenge serum. Please stand still and show me your cock. You
will feel this serum in your cock as if it was on fire, but you will take
it as a man."

"What is it and what it will do?" asked Jack.

"You're a little bit too curious and you will know soon enough. With
that d**g, you will never bother any girls again and you might feel a lot
less in control of yourself."

"Please don't do that to me. I promise to be nice to you and the others
for as long as I live."Jack was now feeling his cock as if it was burning.

"It's too late, Jack. The d**g is now flowing inside your cock, filling
it with a very nasty substance that will soon spread throughout your entire
body.I'm just sure everything that will happen to you, you deserve. Let me
now explain you some of the things that will happen to you because of this
d**g. I'm sure you will enjoy this." She threw the empty syringe in the
basket.

"After the absorption of the d**g I just injected you, you'll be
strongly attracted only by men. You'll be turned on by them and want to
have sex with them. You won't be able to see a man without thinking about
his cock, his balls, his sperm. You will dream about them days and
nights."

"You can't make me gay. I will always love women" Jack said.

"Who is talking about love? Your body will urge you to have sex with
all men but you will still be free of loving who you want. Each time
you'll see a man, your body will scream "sex" and you won't be able to
fight this attraction."

"You will also be strongly addicted to sperm. You will crave for it all
the time and enjoy the taste of it so much. As you are a man, you will
soon supply yourself."

"What! You expect me to swallow my cum! You're crazy or what!!"

"You can't imagine yet how strong this addiction will be. Be sure you
will be more than willing making your cock spurt in your mouth. In
comparison to what you're about to experiment, addiction to heroin is
nothing!"

You will find yourself very sexy and the sight of your man's body will
arouse you to extreme limit.You will feel unbearable urge jacking off all
the time. Your balls will grow rapidly in order to adjust to your body
needs.You'll have so heavy balls that it will hang just above knee level.It
will be impossible to put them inside your underwear and it will be very
difficult for you to walk as these balls will always be in your way.This
will be very bothersome. These big balls will urge to empty themselves, so
you will experiment continuous cum leaking without erection or
stimulation.This leaking will last as long as you will live and the amount
of cum you will ejaculate will be about two ounce an hour. Don't worry,
your big fat balls will have the special ability to constantly stimulate
cum production from your body.They will also command your penis to increase
in length and diameter in order to reach 18 inches flacid,matching the size
of your balls. They will take total control over your brain, producing
some substances that will screw up your brain chemistry.As your brain is
now under the control of your balls, it's easy to know what will be your
main activity."

"Are you telling me I will become some kind of sex monster and will
enjoy it?"

"The serum is not design to make you enjoy these changes, deep inside
yourself, you'll be upset and frustrated at all time."

You will soon crave to have all this hot sperm in your ass, so you will
insert that special tube in your pee hole and the dildo end in your ass and
while you fill yourself with your own cum..You will be so strongly addicted
to it,that you will fight not to unplug your butt from your sperm supply,
although you will have to in order to empty you bowel once in a while.
During that time , you will experiment withdrawal syndrome,screaming and
crying all the time, craving for your cum. So you will plug you back as
soon as possible.

"O.K., I've listen to you enough! Just untie me and we'll forget about
all this pervert discussion. Anyway, I don't believe you're able to make
me turn out as you say."

"We anticipated this reaction and in order to make you believe me, your
about to feel very strange tickling and squezzing in your balls, then your
cock will start slowly leaking some cum. You won't feel any pleasure from
that but it will upset you as it will never stop and the flow of sperm will
slowly increase, making you feel really weird."

"Ah! ah!, you think you're funny! What a stupid bitch you are.You
deserve..." Jack suddenly stop speaking. He looked at Brenda with
interrogation marks in his eyes.

"Oupps! You start feeling something, don't you?" said Brenda with a
smile. Jack was trying to look down at his cock as he soon realised that
the tip of his cock was shining wet. He was also feeling as if his balls
were slowly and powerfully contacting repeatedly as if they wanted to expel
all their content.

"I'm sure it's only anxiety that makes a little humidity down my cock.
This is weird!"

"Maybe you should look at your cock again, it seems like nice hot sperm
to me! Before long, you'll be covered with your cum."

Jack looked at his cock again and start to panic. "What the hell have
you done to me! Stop that now or you will regret it."

"How can I regret it? I'm kind of enjoying myself seeing you pig
involuntarily loosing all that sperm and not having any more control on
your cock and balls! Anyway, this is so funny looking at your wild balls
and at your leaking cock!"

"How can I loose so much cum!!! Make it stop, stop! STOP!!!!!!!"

Jack felt his hot sperm slowly leaking from his flacid cock on his
abdomen as the tickling and squeezing in his balls were intensifying. He
was furious and violently tried to untie himself.

"Please let me go!"

"But my little story isn't over yet. Maybe you should listen carefully
to me because it is concerning your future.Where was I?Oh yes, I
remember...You will be horny forever, sucking furiously every man that you
will see.If you unplug yourself for more than 5 minutes, your body will
react producing huge amount of female hormones, thus making you a
"she-male" 24 hours after you cut off your cum supply. Female hormone
production will stop immediatly if you plug yourself back but the effects
are cummulative and irreversible.

"You bitch is saying that I could turn out a woman. What a hell!"

"By the way, I forgot to tell you cum craving will soon start, so I
better untie you. Anyway you can't leave because your leg are *******ed."
She began to untie Jack.

"It's not to soon! So you think I can't leave? Look at me!" He tried
to get out of the bed but felt heavily on the floor.

"I told you...better listen to me or you might hurt yourself. Don't you
begin experiencing a funny craving in your mouth? Isn't the smell of fresh
sperm turning you on? Why don't you please yourself Jack? Maybe I should
help you."

"You dirty bitch think I can't control myself and that I will act as a
fag! You make a big mistake and I'll make you suck my dick and I'll fuck
you."

"That's a bad attitude for such a weak man. I bet you'll never be able
to fuck a woman again. This serum is about to make you loose all control
over your sex life and you're still insulting me!" She put her finger in
Jack's cum on his abdomen then bring it slowly to his mouth.

"Mmmm! It look so good for such a hungry mouth as yours."

"You think you can make me do anything, I'm not a slave!"

" When the crave will kick in, it will strike you as lightning!"

After a few moment, Jack suddenly seemed overwhelmed with panic.

"Oh my god, what is happening to me! I can't believe it! I must resist
this urge." He was staring at the finger, then hungrily suck it, moaning in
ecstasy.

"There you are. You know where you can have some more, don't you?" Jack
felt humiliated and angry as he stared with lust at his leaking cock and
his shining abdomen covered with hot sperm. He shyly began wetting a
finger with cum, then suck it but the urge to have cum in his mouth seems
rapidly to increase. He soon swept his whole hand on his abdomen, getting
large amount of cum to his hungry mouth.

"I have to stop acting like a fag but this is so good, I can't help
myself"

"You'll be surprised how much you'll swallow. You'll never have enough
to satisfy your crave. Mmmm... enjoying the taste? Never tought you would
have been loving your cum so much, dear Jack."

"Please make me stop, its so humiliating! Tell me I am about to stop
swallowing my cum."

"Oh but Jack, this is just the beginning of this. Better get used to it
because this serum is so powerfull your urge will increase to extreme
lever."

"You're such a bitch" said Jack unable to stop licking his own cum
wildly.

"There are some interesting side effects of the d**g: All the sperm you
drink will attack your teeths and you will loose them all very soon. It
will make you a better cock sucker for all men to enjoy.There will also be
a special substance in your saliva that will make the men you suck feel
very intense and addicting orgasms. This substance will also make them
ejaculate like crazy, draining them dry as you need sperm so much.So, they
will be very regular clients and I will recruits new ones.Before long, you
will always have a hard dick feeding your hungry mouth."?

She looked back at him only to realise his balls already started
growing. They were now about twice their original size.

"Look at these marvelous balls! It seems it will be a little tough to
drain them dry. Hope you like them big, Jack, because they're growing at
an amazing speed!" Breda laughed. Jack has just begun masturbating in order
to have more cum. He was screaming with desire, sweating and shaking,
desperatly in need for sperm.

"After a year of great all men sex, I will make sure at least a man
unplug you in order to buttfuck you. At this time,your sperm will contain
a subtance that is rapidly absorbed through the intact skin and the man
that is buttfucking you will experiment very strong addiction to your ass.
This substance will also have very bothering side effects for you. It will
delay ejaculation by one minute each time,making you being buttfuck for
longer time and it will also increase the diameter of his cock, thus
stretching your ass always more and more. He will enjoy getting his cock
inside your ass as often as he can.Foreign sperm in your ass will make you
feel very intense orgasm that will last about an hour. You'll be screaming
in ecstasy, sweating and convulsing all the time.During these orgasms, your
arms will be *******ed making you impossible to plug yourself back,so you
will feminized yourself at the same time. You will hate the feminizing
effects and try to avoid buttfuck, but as you don't have any free will, all
men will have absolute control over you making you impossible to fight
against them.When the foreign sperm will be absorbed by your body, the
orgasm and *******is will subside but it will strongly stimulate your ass
cum craving. You will be able to supply yourself as cum production will
increase each time a man ejaculate in your ass. Foreign sperm will also
make your anal muscles relax at all time, so cum will always leak from it
and the tube will fall out very often as your anus will not contract
anymore.It will also strongly intensify your crave for sucking cocks.
Soon, you will be so much in heat that you will not be in control of
yourself, attacking every men in sight and filling yourself with tremendous
amount of sperm.

Jack was now fingering his ass at the same time he was stroking his
cock. He lubrificate his ass with cum and tried to introduce some inside
it.

"Poor little Jack! Your ass needs sperm as much as your mouth now! How
can you fill yourself both ways! I will soon make you meet some very nice
gentlemen who will be more than willing letting you suck their big hard
cocks."

"Help me somebody!! I can't stand it, I feel so wild!" Jack screamed,
getting another load of cum to his mouth.

"You're quite a sight! I never tought your balls would have become so
big" said Brenda now playing with the special tube intended to make Jack
able to fill his ass.

"At this stage, even if you don't stroke your meat, your cock will
continue dripping cum. Your balls are now large enough to supply
continuous flow of sperm. Anyway, your cock is about to go soft."

Jack now realized how big were his balls and scrotum. They were as big
as g****fruit! His cock was now getting soft and constantly dripping cum,
as she said.

"These balls are not mine! This is monstruous. I can't live like that.
That stupid cock is always loosing sperm. That's crazy! How can I stop
that?!"

"Your balls are just making sure you have enough sperm to satisfy
yourself. You like your sperm so much! A pig like you deserve these heavy
balls and a big fat lazy dick so everybody will now see on what your life
is centered. There's no way you can hide these marvelous macho jewels now.
You'll soon regret being born a man!"

"Fuck you, sick bitch!" said Jack crying.

Brenda was staring at him, almost laughing: "I love the way your penis
is turning out with the special stimulation of your balls. It's getting
absolutely enormous but unresponsive to sexual stimulation. What a
pathetic cock: huge , always soft, without any signs of arousal and
continuously and weakly creaming incredible amount of rich, hot sperm
without any sexual pleasure! That's the cock every bastard like you should
have."

He was trying to suck every little drop of cum leaking from his cock
with passion but a large quantity was leaking on his balls and ass as he
wasn't able to get il all. There was absolute terror in his eyes as he
realised his body was now mostly dick and balls totally out of control.

"Your hands will now always urge to play with your big lazy cock and
balls, reminding you constantly how huge and unresponsive to stimulation
they are. You will also involontarily want to display your lovely male
jewels to make sure everybody have a full view over them, including
yourself.You will be very soon be unable to speak, as your balls are
producing a substance that rapidly destroy the speech center. You will
only be able to moan and shout, so nobody will be able to understand what
is happening to you. Maybe you should try speaking to me"

"mmmhhhnnnnooooooaaaa" Jack tried desperatly to get a word out of his
mouth but he was able to produce only a low passionate moan.

"That's quite sexy Jack. You'll always seem it heat from now on every
single time you'll open your mouth. The harder you'll try, the hornier it
will sound. That's a lot nicer than insults! Anyway, the d**g will make
sure you are constantly producing horny sounds as if you were a wild male
b**st in heat no matter how aroused you are. There is no way you can fight
this and it will make you ashamed of yourself. You'll be screaming your
sex urge to your heart content despite of yourself."

"aaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhooooooooooommmmmmmm" screamed Jack terror in his eyes.

"Very nice! You have some hidden talents" said Brenda enjoying herself.

"oooooommmmmmmaaahhhhhhhhhhh" screamed Jack as if he was climaxing.

No matter how hard he tried to remains silent, he was always
involontarily making powerfull climax sounds. He could not believe he was
making these erotic sounds.

"I almost forgot to tell you that your body will also act as if it was
it was in constant heat, thus matching with the wild sexy sounds you make.
You'll be caressing your body,sweating, breathing heavily and fast, having
muscle spasms all over you. This will make you a permanent advertisement
for sex. This will persist even during your sleep and even without any
kind of sexual arousement."

Jack was now experiencing a faked climax. Although he wasn't
experiencing any sexual pleasure, he was acting as if he was having a very
powerfull orgasm. He was trapped in a body on which he doesn't have any
control and he was upset to look at himself: He was acting like a wild
a****l, caressing himself with erotic passion and producing heavy climax
sound.

"Hope you're enjoying your man's body. You look so hot, you're almost
arousing me! Sorry your balls are now denying you any true sexual
satisfaction as this part of your brain is now strongly inhibited. "

The faked climax was varying in intensity but was never completely
subsiding. Jack was still hungrily eating all his cum dripping from his
huge soft cock.

The door bell rang.

"It should be the guys. You'll soon be amazed how savagely you will
sexually agress them. There, play with that tube during the time I am
answering the door."

Jack rapidly introduce the tube inside his huge shaft that was still
growing. As the tube filled itself with cum, he introduced the dildo end
in his ass. He heard some men talking and they were approaching. As soon
as they were in the room, Jack began to salivate in anticipation moaning
with desire. The first one approched Jack and as soon as he was close
enough of him, Jack ripped his pants and start sucking furiously the man.
The man soon was screaming with pleasure as he was beeing vaccumed by Jack.
He was soon dropping his huge load inside Jack's mouth. He felt an
incredible, long lasting orgasm. After that, he said, trying to catch his
breath.

" Boy, this man is wild! I've never been suck like that in my hole
life! "

Brenda was now looking at the scene: The second man was approching Jack.
"You are already quite pathetic, Jack but when you will have complete the
"she-male process", you'll look like a cheap hore with huge breast, big
butt, big lips. Your balls will gradually stop producing cum, thus making
you crave for all men to buttfuck you because your ass will need huge
amount of sperm. Your big cock and balls will gradually shrink back to
normal size after complete transformation. As a "she-male", you will be
completely insatiable with desire of cum in ass and mouth and you will have
a very special feature that you will soon experiment! You'll have a very
functional uterus and ovaries. During your transformation, your balls will
also connect themselves directly with your new uterus, thus making you
ejaculate only inside yourself. When you will ovulate, the proper hormonal
stimulation will make your cock rock hard and you will feel an unbearable
urge to masturbate. At the same time, you will involontarily start rocking
your pelvis, caressing your balls and tits and moan loudly untill eggs
fertilization process is over. As you will bring yourself to climax, you
will ejaculate sperm repeatedly on the emerging eggs untill multiple
pregnancy occurs. All this process will make your very frustrated and angry
as you'll never want to be pregnant but you will be unable to fight it .As
the cycle will repeat itself every 10 months till menauposis, you'll hate
the way your body controls your life. If you try to fight the urge of
masturbating when you ovulate, knowing what will happen, your body will
have the ability to slowly bring itself to climax again and again,
producing repeated involontary ejaculation, making sure you spread your
eggs with large amount of hot, thick sperm. As your uterus will not have
any external connection, you won't be able to interrupt your pregnancy and
you will deliver your c***dren by cesarian. I will hire a gynecologist who
will perfom the interventions. I will sell all your c***dren as you will
be only concerned servicing men and having their cum inside your body at
all time. After menoposis, you will be all male again, with cum leaking,
big balls and cum craving the very same way you were before your she-male
tranformation. During all your life, you will be permanently frustrated not
having any control of what is happening to you. Your body and other men
will have absolute control over yourself and even if you don't want all
this to happen, you will be totally helpless.You will be sad and angry
despite your body will overwhelm with lust and ecstasy. Your brain will
forbid you to mutilate or kill yourself at any time during your life making
it a permanent hell."

As she finished telling him the effects of the d**g, the second man was
ejaculating his big load inside Jack's mouth, almost convulsing in
pleasure. Jack was too much concentrated on his sucking to listen to Brenda
anymore. He felt the *******is in his legs subside but he didn't want to
leave anymore as there were such attractive young men in the room, ready to
give him their load. He felt his teeth loosen, then a few ones felt,
making his mouth look weird. he was going from man to man, making them
addicted to his mouth as much that he was addicted to their cocks. The
magic power of the d**g was working exactly as Brenda had told him. Jack
was now slaved to cocks, swallowing as much cum as he could. The men kept
coming back as they experienced pure ecstasy as they were sucked by Jack.

After about a year, a new man came to the clinic. He looked at Jack's
butt and unplug the tube that was filling him with sperm. The reaction was
immediate. Jack was furious and kicked the man with his legs. Jack was
mad trying to replug himself but the man forbid him to do so keeping the
tube end in his hand. With his other end, he grab some kind of small enema
and introduced the nozzle into Jack's ass. Jack thought he was being
replugged but the man said.

"The substance I just put in your ass will soon be activated by your
sperm. The combination will make you very submissive as well as craving to
be buttfuck by me. Your nice little ass will rapidly loosen as the d**g
will reach it's full potency and all the sperm you've got inside your gut
will flow out, thus making your crave for me to replace your supply. The
d**g will also rapidly stop cum leaking from your cock, so you'll be unable
to plug you back."

Jack felt suddenly very relax, lying on his back, he gently rub his ass
that soon began to leak some of his precious cum. It seems that his anus
was now unable to contract and he was loosing all his cum. He tried to
replug himself but the tube wasn't dripping anymore. He was now helpless
as his ass urged him to fill himself. The man came back and push his cock
inside Jack's ass. He vigorously buttfuck Jack who was crying in need of
sperm. Finally, the man spurted his load in Jack's ass. Jack was now
feeling a tremendous orgasm though his body as the man left the room. Jack
was now unable to supply himself with cum, even when he tried masturbating,
his cock wasn't responding. He began experiencing some signs of
feminisation. His breast was growing huge, his hips were enlarging, his
voice changed, his beard disappeared, his mouth and lips were sexier. He
felt his balls and cock slowly shrinking to their normal size. After 2 or
3 days, Jack was a complete she-male craving for cum in ass and mouth. The
young men came back now filling him both ways for his greatest
satisfaction.

After a few weeks of that treatment, he began feeling weird during his
sleep. He was now caressing his balls and tits and rocking his pelvis all
the time. His cock grew hard to full attention. He was asking himself
what was going on. He felt a sudden urge to stroke his cock. As he did so,
he felt wave of intense pleasure crossing all his body. When he reached
climax, he didn't see any sperm spurting out of his cock although he felt
all signs of ejaculation. His cock didn't go soft and he continue to feel
the urge to mastubate over and over, reaching climax each time, but his
cock always stay dry. After hours of ecstasy, his dick go soft and the
urge of masturbating rapidly subsided. He was exhausted and felt asleep.
He continued to experience craving for cum and sucked and was buttfucked by
lot of men, but after a few weeks, he realised he was pregnant. He could
do nothing than bear the c***d. After 37 weeks of pregnancy, his belly was
so big, he tought he will bust. Brenda came and injected him with a
substance that make him loose consciousness. He regain consciousness in
the recovery room and Brenda told him:

"You've got twins baby boys. you won't feel any cum craving for the
next 3 days in order to make you recover from the cesarian, then you'll be
back in your room, feeling the craving increasing rapidly. It will be life
as usual."

After 3 days, he was back in his room and he had regular men "visiting"
him. Less than 4 weeks after delivery, he was again caressing his balls
,tits and rocking his pelvis. He now knew that if he masturbate, he will
be pregnant again. As he didn't want to, he fought the urge to masturbate
altough it was very tough. His mind seemed to always focus on his hard
cock and his hands were caressing all his body parts making him overwhelm
with pleasure. It seems that the pleasure was doing something to his
balls. The scrotum was contracting itself as if the ejaculation will soon
occur and he was feeling as if he will have an orgasm, despite he didn't
touch his cock. He suddenly felt himself reach orgasm as he screamed in
ecstasy, feeling contractions in his cock and balls, but again his cock
stay dry. He knew he was making himself pregnant but there was no way he
can stop the cycle. His cock stayed hard very long and he felt continuous
intense orgasms . He was involontarily spurting all his hot sperm inside
himself and that was making him frustrated and sad. As his cock got soft,
he started crying knowing he was again c***dbearing.

A few days later, Brenda was back in Jack's room. She was looking at
Jack.

"I just saw the videotape of your ovulation day. So, you tried to fight
the urge of masturbating while it was time to do so! I will make sure this
will never happen again."

She took a filled syringe and empty it inside Jack's butt.

"That serum will make sure you will involontarily masturbate each time
you need to. It will be absolutely impossible not to comply to your body
needs. Your hand will automaticaly reach your cock every time it is erect.
As you deserve a little punishment for you behavior, this d**g will also
make you experiment very strong repulsion to all man's cock you will see.
As your cum craving will intensify, you will have to suck cocks and get
them in your ass even if it is disgusting to you. Even your own cock will
be a source of profond disgust for you. Anyway, you didn't seem to enjoy
playing with it. You will try to avoid looking to cocks but the d**g also
make you stare at them as often as possible. These effects are permanent
and you will now have a small sample of the effects of this new d**g. Your
cock is about to get hard and I think I will enjoy myself looking at you."

Jack was feeling he was getting hard and he felt his hand grabbed
involontarily his dick and began masturbating despite of himself. At the
same time he looked at his cock and found it was the most repulsive thing
he ever saw. He can barely stand it but he was not able to look anywhere
else. His eyes kept staring at himself masturbating furiously. He
screamed in horror to this unbearable view and could not believe he had to
live with it for the rest of his life. He soon ejaculate inside himself
and his cock got soft again.

"Well my dear, see you in a couple of weeks. In the mean time I will
install lot of mirror in this room just to make sure you have a full view
of yourself and the other men. Of course mirror installator will be naked.
Try to enjoy you snack! Remember that the d**g forbid you to mutilate or
kill yourself, so you're stuck with that marvelous dick forever."

While she left Jack was still staring at his cock, crying, almost
throwing up with disgust. The men kept comming to Jack's room and Jack had
to overcome his repulsion in order to get their sperm. His life was now a
constant fight against cock disgust in order to try to stop the cum
craving. The cum craving was so intense, it didn't matter how repulsive
their cock were.

A few months later, it was time again for delivery. This time, he got
four boys. This cycle got on and on for years making his life absolutely
miserable. When he finally reach menopausis at the age of 51, he had
delivered over 75 c***dren (all boys) and was still very disgusted by men's
cocks. Brenda came back to Jack:

"O.K. my dear, this woman's body is useless as you stopped ovulating. I
will now transform you back to your man self. You know I love giving you
injections that contains little "surprises" and this one will not make
exception to the rule." She injected Jack into his butt. "You're getting
old my poor Jack and the last few years have been tough on you, so I
decided that you deserve a break. A very special break in fact. You won't
feel any cum craving,you won't have to suck men or being buttfuck by them
from now on. While you become a man again, your balls and cock will grow
back but not as huge as they were before your transformation. Your big
balls will be able to make you ejaculate at all time and you'll enjoy
playing with your cock . You won't feel anymore repulsion to cocks, cocks
will now turn you on indeed. You'll stare at them as much as you can
humanly do and they will make you rock hard. Your sperm will now contain a
substance which can induce very strong cum craving but specifically to your
cum only. Other man's cum won't bring any satisfaction and will not
diminish the craving. This addiction is permanent and nothing can stop it.
Your sperm will also make the man that absorb it an addict of buttfucking.
He will want to have a big cock ejaculating in his ass at all time. This
effect is not specific to your cum and any man's cum will do for the
buttfuck urge he will experiment. As you will not have any urge, or cum
craving, you're probably asking yourself why I make you produce these
addicting substances and mix them with your cum. The answer is easy: I
will make you meet your boys. You know some of them are grown up now and
would be very anxious to meet you. They are very normal heterosexual boys
with a promising future. They are your exact copy but younger of course. I
will organise a little family reunion that they will remember. All your
c***dren that are over 14 will be brought here. I think there are 32 of
them at the moment.



























Scroll Very Fast





CHAPTER 1

TOMMY


Tommy was an only c***d and grew up in a small town in
the Mid-West. When he was young and was home alone, he would
often play 'dress-up' in his mother's clothing, thrilling to
the feel of the soft silky material against his body. He was
smaller than the other boys and had facial features more like
a girl's than a boy's. This was often made comment on by his
Aunt who visited his family with some regularity. "Such a
pretty girl you would make," she would comment as she hugged
the boy and offered kisses to her nephew. Tommy liked his
Aunt Beth and always tried to please her whenever she visited
and was always rewarded with hugs and kisses from the beauti-
ful woman.
One day when he was about 11, he was playing 'dress-up'
in the hours between when he got home from school and when his
parents arrived home from work. Dressed in his mother's
frilly nylon panties, a bra, slip, and a pair of her high
heels, he was admiring himself in the full length mirror in
his parent's room. He was turned sideways to the mirror and
was slowly stroking the silky material of the slip against his
sides, feeling the wonderful tingle it always provided his
body. His small cock was hard and rubbing delightfully
against the panties,when suddenly he heard footsteps in the
hallway.
"Tommy? Are you here Tommy?" It was Aunt Beth! "Oh my
God," He thought, "What if she catches me in Mom's clothes?"
Before he could formulate an answer to his own question, his
Aunt entered the room. "Oh there you are," his Aunt started,
then seeing how her nephew was attired, "My aren't we pretty
today." Tommy turned beet red and tried to hide behind the
mirror.
Aunt Beth was the younger sister of his mother and only
25 years old. Tall to his eyes, she had long flowing blonde
hair which came down to her breasts and had that 'willowy'
look Tommy had observed in the fashion magazines his mother
received in the mail. Her deep blue eyes surveyed her nephew
and she arrived at the conclusion that she had scared the boy
badly with her entry. "Tommy, don't be afraid, come over here
and give Aunt Beth a hug," she said to him.
Tommy still flushed in embarrassment and now trembling,
came out from behind the free standing mirror and approached
his Aunt. Seeing the boy shake, elicited a response of
sympathy from the woman who extended her arms and quickly drew
the boy to her, then hugged him tightly to her. "There,
there," she murmured as she held the boy to her, "It's OK
Tommy, Aunt Beth loves you and would never hurt her favorite
nephew." She stroked his small head as she held it to her
ample breasts and soon felt his trembling stop. She released
her hug and moved him out from her enough to grasp his small
chin in her hand and gently tilted his head upwards so that
she could look at his face. Tears were streaming down both
cheeks when his face came into view, so she gently wiped them
with her fingertips and then kissed the boy on the cheek and
forehead.
Holding the boy by the shoulders, she sat down on the
edge of the bed so that they were now at eye level with each
other. Then gently stroked his long-ish light brown hair back
from his face with her right hand, which finally rested on his
left shoulder at the base of his neck. His eyes were the same
deep blue as her own, but now red from crying and his pale
white cheeks trembled as he tried to speak. "Please don't
tell my Mother," he managed to get out, "She'll be mad at me
for messing with her things." Tears immediately started
flowing down the lovely boy's cheeks again, which Beth stroked
with her thumbs, then pulled him forward between her legs and
hugged him again with his head resting on her shoulder.
She rocked the ********* and gently caressed his back as
she held him then said, "I won't tell on you...I love you too
much to ever hurt you, little one." "Thank you Aunt Beth,"
came a soft reply, "I love you too." She continued to rock
and stroke him until she felt his body relax, then moved him
back out to a point between her knees, and held him by his
forearms. "Now then, why don't you tell me about it?" and
again moved her right hand up, brushing his hair from his
face.
In between occasional shudders and sniffles, Tommy
explained to his aunt that he dressed in his mother's clothing
two or three times per week and how he enjoyed the feel of
them on his body. She asked if he had ever used his mother's
makeup or dresses in addition to the underclothes and Tommy
replied "only a couple of times." "It's too hard to get that
stuff off my face," he explained and this received a smile and
a chuckle from Aunt Beth.
When he was done, she stroked his hair again and gently
talked to him. "It's OK Tommy, there is nothing wrong with
boys wanting to play dress-up...But if you are going to do it,
you should dress your own age." "But how?" Tommy inquired.
"Let me think on that for a while," she responded, then con-
tinued, "I don't know right now, but I'll work on it; for now
however, you better change before your Mom gets home and finds
you." Tommy, leaned in and hugged his Aunt then gave her a
kiss before letting go, "Thank you Aunt Beth," he whispered as
he released his hold on the woman.
His parents arrived home about 45 minutes later and true
to her word, his Aunt did not mention the incident to them.
Tommy thought she had forgotten all about it when several
months passed and nothing had happened.
It was the beginning of summer, Beth was visiting and
over dinner she made an offer to his parents. "You two work
too hard, you should take a vacation," she proposed, "I'll
tell you what, I'll take care of Tommy, and you two take a
second honeymoon!" An offer like this was too good to refuse.
Tommy's parents HAD been working very hard in the past five
years, in order to buy the house they lived in. They had
taken little time off and other than a weekend once or twice,
had never had a vacation away from their son since he had been
born. "Would you really be willing to do that s*s," Tommy's
mother asked. "Janet, you know I'm a teacher and have the
whole summer off. Tommy and I get along great, and you two
NEED a vacation." "It wouldn't be too much trouble?" his
father inquired. "No trouble at all, Tommy and I will have
lot's of fun, while you two lovebirds get some time to your-
selves," Beth replied. "Then it's a deal," his mother said,
"I hope you won't be sorry," she added. "No chance!" Beth
responded.
Things moved quickly, Tommy's parents made arrangements
to take a month off from work and booked reservations at
several hotels along their intended route. Beth would take
them to the airport, then she and Tommy would return to her
apartment for the duration of the trip. Beth would pick them
up when they returned; all was set for the trip to begin in
three weeks.
Tommy was excited about the whole idea, he had not played
dress-up since the day he had been caught by his Aunt Beth.
He had been afraid that it might be his mother who caught him
the next time and had refrained from such activities. He had
however, stolen a pair of her frilly panties and a slip, and
slept in them whenever he could do so safely. Maybe his Aunt
would let him play dress-up at her apartment, while he stayed
there.
The day finally came and after seeing his parents off at
the airport, they walked back to Aunt Beth's car in the par-
king lot. "I have a surprise for you Tommy," she said as they
walked. "For the next month, your name will be spelled 'TOMI'
and you will be my niece rather than my nephew!" "Really,"
Tommy squealed with glee, "Yes," she replied "and it will
start as soon as we get to your house." Tommy was beside
himself and stopping his Aunt, gave her the biggest hug his
little body could provide. "I though you might like it," she
said, after giving him a kiss on the forehead and stroking her
long fingers through his hair.



CHAPTER 2


FROM TOMMY TO 'TOMI'

When they arrived back at Tommy's house, he was e*****ed
into his bedroom by his Aunt who was carrying a small bag she
had retrieved from the trunk of her car. "Take off all of you
clothes," she said, much to Tommy's shock. Seeing the boy
hesitate, "You're not going to get SHY on your Aunt are you?
I've seen your little butt naked most of your life and can't
remember how many times I changed your diapers." Knowing her
statement was true, he immediately started undressing while
she removed items of clothing from the bag.
Now standing completely naked before his Aunt, Tommy
tried to hide his groin with his hands. "Come over here," she
commanded in a still gentle voice; Tommy moved to where she
was seated on the chair at the end of his bed. "Oh, put your
hands down," she said as if frustrated, "You don't have
ANYTHING to hide from me." Tommy complied and after looking
him over from head to toe, she then produced a seamstress's
tape measure and took the various measurements of his body.
"Your a little bigger than I thought, but these will still fit
you," she observed and handed him a pile of clothing from the
bed. Tommy accepted the clothing and while he looked it over,
his Aunt picked up his tennis shoes and removed the laces.
In the clothing he had been handed was: a pair of white
ankle socks, a white denim purse with a long thin strap, a
pair of white nylon panties, a pink tube top with a frilly
edge at the top seam and a pair of white shorts with no zipper
or pockets like his had. Tommy picked up the panties and
pulled them slowly up his legs, once again thrilling to the
feel of the smooth material on his body. He then put on the
tube top and shorts, then sat down to put on the ankle socks;
which he noted had pink and white lace at the top. In the
mean time, his Aunt had replaced the white laces in his shoes
with pink ones and seeing him looking her way offered an
explanation. "I didn't know what size shoes you wore, so
these will do until we can get you some girl's shoes."
Aunt Beth then had Tommy sit in the chair and got some
cosmetics from her bag. Tilting his face up to her, she held
it in her palm and studied him for a couple of minutes. "You
have such lovely skin and bone structure," she offered, "I
just wish I'd looked that good at your age," as if talking to
herself. She then took a pair of tweezers and plucked a few
hairs from his eyebrows and applied some blusher to his
cheeks. A light pink lipstick and gloss were then put on his
lips and after blotting, applied again. Aunt Beth then took
a comb and parted his hair down the middle and then drew it
into two pony tails, one on either side of his head, which
were secured with pink ribbons to match his outfit. "All
done, Tomi, let's go into your parent's room, where you can
see yourself in the mirror."
Aunt Beth lead him by the hand into the next room and
stood behind him with her hands on his bare shoulders as he
gazed at the mirror. Looking back at him was one of the
prettiest young girls he had ever seen, with pale white skin,
light brown hair, big blue eyes, and a cute little play
outfit. Tommy was thrilled at the results and turned to his
Aunt and hugged her for all he was worth, then planted a half
a dozen kisses all over her face as he thanked her. "Let's go
home then Tomi," she said, "We'll stop and get you some more
clothes along the way." Smiling all the while, he skipped to
the car as his Aunt locked up the house.

On the other side of town, his Aunt stopped at a K-Mart
store, and Tommy was taken inside, where he was allowed to try
on a number of dresses and outfits. He was having a ball and
loved modeling the clothing for his beautiful smiling Aunt and
no one suspected that he was a boy. When they left, his arms
were full of packages including: 3 dresses, 3 sun-suits, an
assortment of tops and blouses, 3 more pair of shorts, a dozen
pair of panties, 4 training bras, a couple of slips, a set of
petticoats and 3 pair of shoes. Tommy didn't see the amount
of the final bill, but knew all of this stuff must have cost
his Aunt a FORTUNE. He therefore, thanked, hugged and kissed
her at every possible opportunity. She just smiled and told
him he was welcome.
For the next couple of hours they drove and Tommy got
very tired. All the excitement at the store had drained him
and soon he fell asleep on the front seat of the car. He
awoke with his head on his Aunt's lap, looking towards her
feet. Her skirt had ridden up from his head moving about on
her lap, and Tommy's face was resting on a stocking covered
but otherwise bare thigh. He moved his cheek against the
sheer material and sighed at the thrilling feel it gave him.
"Awake ***********?" he heard, and a hand gently caressed his
cheek and rolled his head back and up. He flipped onto his
back and smiled up at his pretty Aunt, who continued to drive
as she smiled down at him and caressed his left shoulder.
His Aunt told him they would be stopping in a few minutes
to get some dinner. They were only 30 minutes from home but
she was tired and did not feel like cooking when she got home.
Tommy sat upright, but stayed in the center of the seat,
pressed up against his Aunt Beth, who continued to stroke his
shoulders as she drove. True to her word, she shortly pulled
into a 'Denney's' restaurant and they went inside to eat. The
two sat at their table and ate a hardy meal as they talked
about what she had planned for their upcoming month together.
To everyone in the restaurant they were just a lovely woman
treating her pretty niece to a dinner.
At one point Tommy had to go to the bathroom and when he
arose, his Aunt pulled him to her before he left the table and
whispered in his ear, "Don't forget to use the GIRL's room,
NOT the boy's." Tommy blushed, because he had become so
comfortable with the way he was dressed, he had forgotten he
was dressed as a girl. Had she not reminded him, he probably
WOULD have gone into the wrong restroom. He gave his Aunt a
kiss for saving him, and proceeded to the restroom without in-
cident. Inside, he almost stood before the toilet to pee,
when he realized that someone was in the next stall, and
decided he better sit like girl's do, so they wouldn't think
anything wrong.
Back in the car, they proceeded to the apartment building
and with arms loaded by packages went up the elevator to her
floor. As the elevator door opened, they were greeted by two
young girls about Tommy's age. "Hi, Miss Henderson," the
girls beamed. "Hi, girls...Oh, I'd like you to meet my niece
Tomi, who will be staying with me for the next month while her
parents are on vacation. Tomi, this is Jenny and this is
Suzie, two of my students." "Hi girls," said Tommy and gave
them his best smile. "Hi Tomi," they responded also smiling,
"We have to run, Miss Henderson or we'll be late for the mov-
ie, but we'll stop by tomorrow, if that's OK," said Jenny.
"That'll be fine, Jenny, I think Tomi is a little tired from
the trip anyway, Bye, Have Fun!" Almost as quick as his eyes
could follow, they jumped into the elevator and were gone.
"Cute girls," said his Aunt, "You'll probably be playing with
them a lot."
Inside the apartment, Tommy was shown to the guest room,
which was to be his for the next month. His aunt helped him
put his new clothes away in the closet and dresser, then
suggested that it was late and he would probably want to take
a bath before going to bed. Before he could answer, she
turned and went into the bathroom and started the bath water
running into the tub.
When, she returned, he was standing nude in the bedroom,
trying to find his robe in the dresser. "Where's my robe?" he
said "Oh, guess I forgot to buy you one," she replied somewhat
exasperated. "We'll get you one tomorrow as well as anything
else I forgot," then giving him a pat on the ass, "In to the
bath with you." With a squeal and a giggle, he ran for the
bathroom and dove into the warm foamy bathtub. He laid back
in the water and soaked for a while, relaxing and enjoying the
feel of the bath.
After about 10 minutes, his Aunt came into the bathroom,
wearing a long flowing silk robe. When she knelt beside the
tub, Tommy could see her bare legs and thighs almost halfway
up. She then picked up a washcloth and soaped it, and started
washing the makeup from his face. After rinsing his face, she
started working on the rest of his body and as she worked, her
robe fell open and his eyes nearly bugged out of his head when
he saw her large breasts bobbing about as she moved. He could
also see her public hair which was darker than the hair on her
head, but not very thick, so her pussy lips were also visible.
Seeing where the boy was looking, his Aunt said, "Oh MY!,
and immediately closed her robe. Then thinking for a couple
of seconds released her robe and said, "Well it was bound to
happen sooner or later anyway...Now it's over with." "Did you
like what you saw?" Aunt Beth asked. Tommy stammered and
stuttered since the only woman he had ever seen nude was his
mother and only quick glimpses of her. "Ya...Yes," he finally
managed to say, "Ver...Very much." "Good," said his Aunt,
"But it is generally considered good manners for a man to
complement a woman on her breasts." "The...They are VERY
nice," he replied, "May...May I touch them?" "Well now, THAT,
was certainly a GIANT leap into manhood; Certainly dear, you
may touch them if you want."
Aunt Beth stopped washing him for a minute and removed
her robe, hanging it on the door the returned and kneeled
beside the tub once more. With his hand shaking, Tommy
reached out and gently stroked his Aunt's left breast, then
turning his body to face her lifted her right breast in his
left and hand feeling the weight. His small hand probed and
stroked the soft flesh and he noticed that her nipples in-
creased in size as he caressed the lovely woman. She contin-
ued washing him, but he noticed that her breathing was heavier
and she gulped air like she was having trouble breathing.
"Are you OK Aunt Beth, I'm not hurting you am I?" She pulled
his face against her breasts and stroking his head replied,
"No dear boy, you're not hurting me, it's just...well, no
one's touched them for quite a while."
Tommy rubbed his face against her soft chest as she held
him, then when his mouth was within reach, sucked her nipple
into his mouth and nursed on it like he used to do on his
mother's. Beth moved into the tub with the boy and soon had
him laying across her lap with his head cradled in her arm and
his mouth still firmly attached to her nipple. He continued
to suckle and with his hand stroked the breast above the
nipple and his Aunt just laid back and let his little mouth
work on her while she gently stroked his entire body. After
a while, she transferred him to her other breast and he was
now laying full length on top of her with his body between her
legs. She held him as he sucked and nibbled on her nipple and
moaned with pleasure at the contact.
After about ten minutes, Beth's body raised out of the
water, and went rigid for a couple of seconds then relaxed
back down into the warm liquid. "Are you OK, Aunt Beth?"
"Yes, Yes, dear one, Aunt Beth is very happy," she sighed and
continued to stroke the small body laying on top of her. She
could feel his hard little cock pressing against her belly,
and reached down and gently stroked it until his body shook
with an orgasm, the held him to her as they both relaxed.
After a while, she sat up and then got out of the bathtub and
helped Tommy dry and dried herself before leading him into his
bedroom, and tucking him nude into the big bed. She stroked
his forehead and kissed him on the cheek then the mouth as she
said good night. "Good Night, Aunt Beth, I love you," Tommy
said softly and closed his eyes to sleep.
During the night, Tommy awoke and went to the bathroom,
in the hallway, he heard a moan and a cry come from his Aunt's
bedroom. Thinking she was hurt, he stuck his head through the
doorway and looked inside. Aunt Beth was laying naked on the
bed, with one hand holding her breast while the other was
feverishly rubbing between he widely spread legs. She was
covered with sweat and as he watched she arched her back
raising her body up from the bed and gave another deep moan,
then collapsed back onto the bed and rested. Tommy wasn't
sure what had happened, but she didn't look hurt, so he
returned to bed.
The next morning he was awakened by his Aunt's fingers
stroking his cheek and when she saw his eyes meet her's, she
kissed him and said, "Good Morning, Tomi; how do you feel."
"OK, Aunt Beth, are you OK?" he replied. "What do you mean?"
she said, looking at his now apparently concerned face. "Oh,
I had to go to the bathroom last night, and heard sounds from
your bedroom,...Like you were hurt." "I'm fine, Tomi, but I
guess I'm going to have to explain something to you that
apparently your parents haven't yet...about sex."
His Aunt then got up from the bed and removed her robe.
Standing beside the bed and before her wide eyed nephew, she
then proceeded to explain about the differences between men
and women's bodies. She ended the lesson by opening her legs
and parting the lips of her vagina, showed him the parts of
her womanhood and explained how sensitive various parts were,
especially her clitoris. She then allowed the boy to feel her
breasts again, and explore her vaginal area with his small
hands until she was satisfied that he understood about women's
bodies and how they differed from his own. She then gathered
his naked body to hers and sitting him on her lap, gave him
many hugs and kisses as she explained her plan for the day.
When she was done, she took him to the kitchen, where they
both ate breakfast au naturel, then returned to his bedroom to
get him dressed for the day.
Tommy was given a pair of white cotton girl's panties
with high cut legs, a pair of white ankle socks and a pair of
white girl's style 'Keds' were placed on his feet. His aunt
the put a half-slip on him and had him step into a pretty baby
blue sundress, which she then pulled up and after placing the
1" shoulder straps over his shoulders, buttoned the single "H"
connecting strap, which ran horizontal just below his shoulder
blades. Tomi was then seated and his Aunt showed him how to
do his own hair into the same twin pony tail style he had worn
the day before. This time however, the ribbons securing the
pony tails were tied with blue ribbon to match his dress. His
Aunt then applied light makeup to his face and he was again
lead to a mirror to see the results.
For a minute or two, Tommy couldn't believe that the
pretty girl looking back at him from the mirror was himself.
He turned this way and that, looking at how the dress was cut
showing almost all of his back clear down to the waist, except
for the shoulder and "H" straps. In front, his chest was
bare, to just above his breasts and the dress was cut to flare
at the waist outward to where it ended about 6" above his
knees. "Hi 'TOMI'," he said to the smiling girl in the
mirror, then turned and hugged his Aunt Beth's still naked
body and kissed her as thanks.
Aunt Beth got dressed quickly and they proceeded down the
elevator and out into the parking lot to her car. As they
were getting in, Jenny and Suzie approached and invited Tomi
to go swimming with them that afternoon in the complex's pool.
Aunt Beth and Tomi agreed and they would stop by around two to
pick Tomi up and show her the way to the pool. "I guess we'd
better get you a swim suit too," observed his Aunt as she
pulled the car into traffic.
The rest of the morning was spent at the mall, going from
store to store, with Tomi trying on outfits at every one and
ended with them returning to the apartment, again loaded down
with boxes and bags of clothing. After lunch Aunt Beth told
Tomi to try on the swimming suit to make sure it 'hid his
little problem'. It was a black and white bikini with a ban-
deau top. The bottom was black knit Lycra spandex with a
white waist band. When Tommy was pulling the bottom up his
legs, his Aunt gently reached out and pushed his balls back up
into the internal tubes of his groin, then folded his penis
back between his legs. The tight suit held everything in
place and to all appearances he now had the normal crotch of
a girl. "That will do nicely, Tomi, but make sure you never
undress in front of the girls or they will know you're a boy;
you could get into a lot of trouble if that happened."
The girls arrived in a little while still dressed and
carrying their bathing suits. Jenny explained their problem,
"Miss Henderson, Mom is having a card party and doesn't want
us in the apartment; could we change here before going down to
the pool?" "Sure girls, Tomi why don't you show them to your
room, so they can change," Beth replied. Tommy lead the way
and ushered them into his room, as he was turning to leave,
Suzie said, "Don't leave, Tomi, we can talk while we're chan-
ging."
Tommy didn't know what to do, here he was in his bedroom
with two pretty girls who were about to undress in front of
him and his Aunt was just down the hall. Before he could
mentally decide, he looked over towards Suzie and found she
was already standing nude before him, with a broad smile on
her face. Jenny had removed her top and was in the process of
taking off her panties and shorts in a single movement, with
her back to him and bent forward so he could see her firm lit-
tle ass and her pussy between her legs as she removed the
garments.
The girls talked as they undressed and then put on their
bathing suits and told him that Jenny was 12 and Suzie 11
years old. They were sisters and lived three doors down the
hall on the left with their mother who was divorced. Jenny
had been in Miss Henderson's class the previous year and Suzie
would be this year. They both liked the teacher and thought
she was very beautiful.
Suzie was a blue eyed little blonde haired girl, with a
straight-as-an-arrow body. Her breasts were just little bumps
which looked more like a boy's except for the nipples which
were larger and stood out just a little. Her hair was medium
length, extending down to the tops of her shoulders and
generally straight, except for the little flip at the ends.
Her pussy was completely hairless, and Tommy's little dick was
straining just at the sight of it.
Jenny was a little bigger than Tommy, probably about an
inch taller and her body was starting to show signs of
development into a woman. Her breasts were forming and stood
out about an inch from her chest, the nipples were twice as
large as Suzie's and her pussy had a sparse covering of dark
brown hair. Jenny's eyes were green and her skin milk white
in the areas covered by her tank type swim suit. Her hair was
very long, reaching almost to her waist as it cascaded down
over her back.
The girls were now attired and taking Tommy by the hand,
lead him back through the apartment and down to the pool.
They played, and swam, and laid in the sun and had a great
time, all afternoon. Tommy only had one scare all afternoon,
they were playing 'Tag' in the pool. Suzie had grabbed the
waist band of his suit bottom, and as he tried to escape, they
were pulled halfway down his ass, exposing his tender white
cheeks to the boys at the pool who hooted and hollered their
approval.
Fortunately, they did not come down far enough for his
little pecker to be seen, and he quickly pulled them back up
as he turned beet red in response to the boy's cat calls.
Suzie apologized for having pulled them down gave him a hug to
ease his embarrassment. Tommy loved the feel of her body
pressing against his bare flesh and stroked her back as they
stood side-by-side following the hug, against the wall of the
pool. "I'm so sorry," Suzie said with tears in her eyes,
"It's OK," replied Tomi, "they didn't get to see much anyway."
and patted the girl on the hip.
The next month Tommy would remember as one of the best
and most exciting times of his life. He, Jenny and Suzie
became almost inseparable, spending all of their time to-
gether, playing or going to movies, or going to the mall. He
got to see the girls naked many times, but they never saw
anything below his waist. One of the boys, named Bobby, even
had a crush on Tomi and attempted to put his hands on her
every time he was close enough to do so. They had danced at
a party at the apartment building one evening, but Tomi never
let him get beyond kissing her and stroking whatever skin was
left bare by her clothing. Tomi, knew that Bobby had a per-
petual hard-on, but was not about to take any chances.
Tommy and his Aunt took baths together every night, and
he soon learned how to make her climax with his hands and
later his mouth. She always stroked his little cock and balls
until he came, but would never let him enter her vagina with
his cock. She explained to him that this would be called
i****t and was a crime as well as one of the worst sins a
person could commit.
The night before his parents were to return, Tommy cried,
he didn't want to go back to being a boy and having to wear
those terrible rough boy's clothes. Aunt Beth tried to
comfort him but every time she released him, he would start
crying again and his body would tremble and shudder. His Aunt
held him most of the night and they slept together in her bed.
In the morning, she told him she would try to arrange the same
type of vacation for next year, but that was all she could do.
Tommy returned home, happy with the vacation, but sad at
returning to being a boy.

CHAPTER 3


DEPRESSION AND BEYOND

For the next year, Tommy was continually depressed and
even though he still got "A's" and "B's" in school, his
parents could not understand what was wrong. The only times
he got excited was when he was told his Aunt Beth was going to
visit, then returned to his previous state when she left.
Tommy couldn't tell his parents that he hated being a boy, nor
about the wonderful vacation he had the summer before. His
mother, noted that her sister seemed to be a positive influ-
ence on his mental state and approached Beth with her con-
cerns. They discussed Tommy at length, and Beth explained
that as an only c***d and being very small for a boy his age,
that he didn't get along with the other boys who constantly
picked on him. He was therefore lonely and was at that stage
of life where his body was feeling the effects of puberty but
would probably "grow out of it."
"Beth, I am very concerned about Tommy, and I am going to
ask a very BIG favor of you and will perfectly understand if
you say no. Tommy seems to perk-up around you and gets back
to a normal mental state. Is there any chance, Tommy could
spend the summer with you....We will pay all expenses, I
couldn't ask you to support our son, but we must do something,
or I'm afraid we'll have to start taking him to a psycholo-
gist." Both women were crying, and Beth took her older
sister's face in her hands and replied as she stroked the
tears from her face. "Janet, I love your son almost as much
as you do. It's no imposition on me to try and help him. If
it's what YOU want, I'll pick him up as soon as school's out
and keep him as long as it takes to bring him around;....I
only hope I can help."
As soon as Tommy was informed of the decision by his
mother, he almost immediately snapped out of the continual
depression and started acting his normal self. His mother
knew she had made the right choice from his reaction and felt
confident that her sister could help her son.
When the day finally arrived for his Aunt to pick him up,
Tommy was excited about what lay ahead during the summer. By
the time Beth finally got there he was shaking from just the
thought of what was to come and his cock had been hard all
day. When Beth arrived she hugged the boy and he smelled her
sweet perfume, then after greeting his parents and spending an
hour getting caught up on family gossip, they loaded his
suitcases into the trunk and headed back to her apartment.
Along the way, Beth pulled into a gas station and after
checking the women's restroom to make sure it was empty, ush-
ered her trembling nephew inside. Locking the door, she told
him to strip, and produced an outfit similar to the one he had
worn for the trip the previous summer. When he was naked, she
measured him, and found that other than for the fact that he
had grown an inch, now standing 5'2" he could still wear most
of the clothes she had purchased the previous year, the skirts
would just be a little shorter. Beth took note, that other
portions of his body had also grown, his erect cock was now
almost 6" long, but still only about an inch in diameter and
was surrounded by a light covering of light brown hair. Other
than his now larger cock, he still looked more like a girl
than a boy, his skin being smooth and almost hairless. Taking
hold of his stiff member, she looked Tommy in the eye and said
"We've got to get rid of this or it will bulge in your
shorts." She then started gently stroking him, with him
standing before her until she felt the little jerking convul-
sions in his cock which indicated that a climax was on it's
way. Without saying a word she leaned forward and sucked him
full length into her mouth and proceeded to give the boy his
first ever blowjob.
Tommy couldn't believe that his beautiful Aunt was
sucking on his cock, and loved the feel of her tongue as it
swirled around his cock head inside her mouth. His entire
body shook as he came, and he almost fell with the release but
his aunt caught him and then held him in her arms until his
breathing returned to normal. He had come in Aunt Beth's
mouth and rather than her being mad as he expected, she just
smiled and licked her lips, then kissed him on the cheek and
told him to get dressed. After fixing his hair and applying
a light coat of makeup, they left the gas station and returned
to her apartment.
On arriving at the apartment, Aunt Beth took him to his
room and had him strip off his clothing again. She then sat
down on the bed and had him stand before her as she slowly
inspected every part of his body. "We have a problem, Tomi,"
she said, then continued, "you are growing hair on your legs;
girls don't allow that to happen so we'll have to remove it."
Tommy just said, "OK Aunt Beth, whatever you say." Without
further comment, she led him to the bathroom, then covered his
entire body below the neck with 'Nair' and told him to stand
still while the lotion worked it's 'Magic' on him. She
checked small patches on him periodically, then decided it was
time to remove the lotion. She scrubbed him with a sponge and
as she showered him with a hand held shower attachment and
Tommy saw that every place the sponge had been, was now hair-
less and smooth. This included his crotch, which now looked
as it had when he was younger, except that his cock and balls
looked bigger.
When she was done, Aunt Beth turned off the shower and
ran a full bath into the tub, adding a bubble bath to the wa-
ter. Tommy was then told to soak in the tub for a while and
his Aunt left the room. When she returned she was unclothed
and Tommy again marveled at her big breasts and wonderful
female body. She got into the tub with him and gently washed
his hair as well as every other part of his body. All this
contact had brought his young cock back to life and she
giggled when she washed him there.
After the bath, she dried him off then dusted his body
with a sweet smelling powder. This made his skin tingle and
made it feel even smoother than it had before. After drying
herself she lead him back to the bedroom and cradled him in
her lap as he suckled her nipples. She then gently stroked
his body and talked to him about what a sweet boy he was.
That night they slept together and Tommy was treated to
another mind-blowing climax when his Aunt sucked him off. He
then licked and sucked on her tasty pussy until she finally
told him to stop, so they could get some sleep.
The next month was a repeat of the previous summer.
Jenny and Suzie were still there, and other than the fact that
Jenny now sported large breasts for her age and, Suzie was
showing signs of developing to about an "A" cup, everything
went as before. His Aunt added two foam pads to his bras and
swim suits so that he also appeared to be growing small
breasts, which made Tomi very happy.
Aunt Beth was seeing a man named Frank about three
evenings per week, but she never brought him to the apartment
and he never saw her boy/girl nephew. Tommy could tell from
the glow about his Aunt when she came home that she and Frank
were fucking on these nights which was confirmed in his mind
by the fact that she would always immediately take a bath be-
fore holding or touching him after one of her dates.
Both Jenny and Suzie now had boyfriends and they along
with Bobby hung around the girls like vultures. As he had the
previous summer, Bobby was constantly touching Tomi, which
she/he both enjoyed and hated. She/he disliked it only in
that she had to be on constant guard that Bobby's hands always
stayed above the waist, due to what might happen if he dis-
covered him to be a boy. At one of the parties, the girls
threw, Tomi ended up kissing Bobby for the better part of an
hour, to keep him occupied so that he didn't try anything
more.
By late July, Tomi was giving the boy hand-jobs to keep
him satisfied and the first week of August gave her first
blowjob. Bobby was satisfied with this arrangement as long as
she continued to give him relief, honoring her statement that
she wanted to remain a virgin until she got married. Tomi
didn't mind giving the boy head until he started getting
insistent, wanting her to do it two or three times per day.
At that point, she told him to 'Go fuck himself' and refused
to see him or be anywhere he was at. She had actually liked
the taste of his cock in her mouth and his cum was salty but
good. It was just that he got so pushy about the whole thing.
Ever since his Aunt had started dating Frank, she no
longer took baths with him, never allowed him to sleep in her
bed, never stroked his cock to climax, would not allow him to
even touch her pussy, and only occasionally would allow him to
feel or suck her breasts. Tommy a healthy ***********, had an
almost constant hard-on and was having to relieve himself two
or three times per day to keep the bulges out of his clothing.
He was sitting nude in his room one afternoon performing this
task, when like a cannon shot, Suzie charged through the door.
"Let's go swimming!" she squealed then seeing Tommy's hard
cock between his legs, stopped dead in her tracks. Her eyes
got big and her jaw dropped open, but she was unable to speak.
She reached behind her and closed the door, then managed to
choke out the words, "You're a BOY."
Tommy was so startled he had stopped in mid-stroke on his
hard cock, and had made no attempt to cover himself. Then
during the pause following her statement, finally managed to
speak. "Suzie, come over here," he said softly and released
his grip on his still raging cock.
The girl moved stiffly as if in a trance, but ended
kneeling before his seated body. Suzie listened while he ex-
plained that, yes, he was a boy, but he liked the feel of
girl's clothing better and how he liked to be around girls
more than boys. That his Aunt let him dress as a girl when he
visited, but that he could not do it at home for fear of
discovery. Suzie nodded her head several times during his
explanation and noted that by the end, her friend was trem-
bling and shaking throughout his entire body. She put her
hand on his knee and leaned forward and gave him a kiss on his
lips and whispered, "It's OK Tomi, I won't tell anyone about
you."
With tears streaming down his cheeks, he gathered the
smaller girl to him and hugged her for all he was worth. They
remained in this cinch for quite some time, as she stroked his
body and kissed him on the mouth, neck and shoulders; then
rubbed her head against his chest. Suzie then took his cock
in her hand and gently fondled it and probed his balls as if
to convince herself that they were real, then released him and
stood between his outstretched legs. In a flash, Suzie was
standing nude in the same spot where before she was wearing
her two piece swim suit. Her budding breasts were topped by
two rose colored nipples which were erect and standing out
proudly. Her breathing was rapid and she then took Tommy's
hand and placed it on her belly, then moved it downward to
her young cunt.
Tommy's fingers glided over her still almost hairless
pussy lips and became wet from the juice oozing from between
them. He opened his fingers and allowed the lips to pass
between them on either side of his middle finger, which he
gently inserted into her hole. Suzie reached out with her
hands and placed them on his shoulders to steady herself as he
slowly stroked his finger in and out of her, and her body
trembled from the pleasure he was providing to it.
After about 5 minutes of this and when her fluids were
trickling down the insides of her thighs, she backed up a step
and moving his legs together moved back forward and sat on his
thighs, with her legs around them to the sides. His hard cock
was now pressed up against her smooth belly and after placing
his hands on her breasts, she wrapped her arms around his neck
and gave him a deep kiss into which it felt she put all of her
energy and strength. His hands massaged her tender breasts
and stroked her back, shoulders and ass. Suzie then raised
herself up and using her left hand guided his cock to the
opening of her tight little pussy. Suzie then lowered herself
onto the stiff meat, until she sat with her pussy lips firmly
against his pubic area.
They sat like that for several minutes just enjoying the
feel of each others warm bodies pressed together and his hard
cock encased in her tight cunt. Tommy then lifted Suzie's ass
as if to signal and she soon was thrusting up and down on his
cock like she was riding a horse. It didn't take the excited
girl long before her body shook with an orgasm, and Tommy held
her as the waves passed through her, then she started moving
again. After another 10 minutes, the young boy could hold
back no longer and came hard into her cunt which triggered her
again. They collapsed interlocked back onto the chair and
held each other for what seemed a long, long time.
When they recovered they got up and walked holding each
other, then sat on the bed. Suzie promised that his secret
was safe, but only on the condition that his cock belonged to
her and made it clear that she intended to use it often. This
was fine with Tommy and after a leisurely kiss, they both
dressed and went to the kitchen for a snack. For some reason,
they were both very hungry.
For the balance of his stay, this young sex pot would
manage to get them alone at least three times per day, some-
times more, and either suck him, fuck him or if her pussy was
feeling tender, have him fuck her ass. The latter being some-
thing Tommy really enjoyed, since her ass was even tighter
than her VERY tight pussy.
On the Sunday of his last week with her, Aunt Beth broke
devastating news to Tommy. Frank had ask her to marry him,
and they would be married that winter. This was the last time
he would ever be able to dress as Tomi and visit her. Tommy
broke down crying and his Aunt gathered him to her and cuddled
him. She then further explained why his parents had let him
stay the summer; that the alternative was seeing a psycholo-
gist. He must return to being a boy; but even more important,
he must act normal when he did so. If he returned to the
depression, his parents would send him to a doctor and
eventually would find out about his cross-dressing. This
would get them both in serious trouble and he would probably
never be allowed to see his Aunt Beth again.
This psychology stuff was a real shocker to Tommy, he had
no idea that his parents were considering any thing like that.
He promised his Aunt, that no matter what, he would make sure
that his parents thought he was a normal happy k**.
The night before he was to return home, his Aunt again
had a date with Frank. Suzie and Jenny came to the apartment
and as soon as they found out his Aunt was gone and would not
return until late, they both undressed right there in the
living room. "I told Jenny about you this morning, Suzie ex-
plained, and she wants you to fuck her too." Looking at the
two girls side by side, Jenny's tits were almost twice as
large as Suzie's and before he could make any further compari-
son, both leapt on top of him. Suzie had her pussy pinning
his head to the carpet as Jenny was sucking his cock. He lost
track of who was where when, but he knew he had eaten both
girls and fucked each in all of their holes before they helped
his exhausted body into bed. Both girls kissed both his mouth
and cock before leaving him to go to sleep. He never saw them
again.


CHAPTER 4


HOME AGAIN


Tommy returned home and although it took considerable
acting on his part at times, managed to convince his parents
that he was again a normal boy. They thanked Beth for saving
their son and were delighted at the news of her upcoming mar-
riage.
For the next couple of years, the only cross-dressing
Tommy could manage was wearing girl's panties under his normal
clothing at school. His mother however, complained that he
must be wearing underwear for 3 or 4 days because there was
not enough of it in the laundry. He therefore made sure that
whether he wore it or not, at least 7 pair of underpants made
it into the weekly wash.
Tommy had joined the Audio/Visual Club at school since
extra-curricular activities were pushed by school officials
and he did not want to play on the sports teams. One side
benefit of this was that he worked on the stage crew in either
sound or lighting for the theater productions the school drama
club put on.
He was given a full set of keys for the stage and theater
area since the sound and lighting wiring ran all throughout
the area. To his delight one of the keys opened the costume
storage rooms and makeup rooms of the school. Unknown to him,
several of the girls on the costume committee had seen him in
the costume rooms fingering the many dresses and lingerie
located there. They never said anything to him, but told each
other and giggled at the prospect of what this might mean.
In High School, Tommy had not had much luck getting dates
with girls. He still wore his hair longer than most of the
boys and was physically smaller (only 5'3", 100 lbs.) than
most also. Whenever he would ask one of the girls out, they
would say with an incredulous look, "Go out in public with a
sissy like you? I'd rather die." But during his Junior year
all of that changed.
Stephanie, easily the cutest girl in his class (and a
member of the costume committee), called him one Saturday
afternoon inviting him to a party that evening at her house.
Her parents were away for the weekend and it would be fun. Of
course he accepted.
Tommy arrived around 7 p.m., surprised to find himself
the first to arrive. Stephanie was ravishing in a black mini-
dress and black suede baby-doll sandals with a four inch heel.
The preliminaries were brief, but unnerving.
"Take of those silly boy's clothes," she ordered.
"There's no use pretending with me." He stammered something
about the other k**s, but she had already started to undo his
jeans, slipping them down his trembling thighs. "My, my," she
said when she stripped off his briefs, "Such marvelous curves,
too pretty to hide." She was looking with envy at his body.
Tommy blushed and his cock stiffened under all the attention,
and she used it as a handle, leading him up the carpeted
stairs. "Tonight," she whispered, "our little sissy is coming
out."
In her bedroom, soft and scented and piled deep with
plush and lace, Stephanie left him standing naked before the
long mirror to go to the dresser. In a moment, she returned
with a pair of silky panties. "You were made to be dressed
like a doll," she purred. "Ken in Barbie's prettiest pant-
ies." Tommy gasped as she slipped the pink panties past his
thighs, and tucked away his swollen genitals. Before he had
a chance to protest, Stephanie had wrestled him into a pink
waist-cinch trimmed with ribbons. He could hardly breathe.
The next thing he knew, she was hooking him into a pink nylon
foam padded bra with push-up design. After stuffing the cups
with scads of her scented panties, she stepped back and
laughed. "A pretty padded bra is a sissy's best friend. And
we won't tell a soul what's in the cups." He could only hope
not, because next she found a pair of sheer pink tap pants
with garters sewn into the lacy spandex waist. "I wish they
looked half as sweet on me." She was the most beautiful girl
he had ever seen and started to protest, but she shushed him.
"here," she said, pushing him back on the bed, "Let me put
your stockings on." They were sexy shiny stockings of pink
nylon and, as she hooked them to his garters, he marveled at
his reflection in the mirror.
"You must be the cutest sissy in the world," she bragged
and he was beginning to agree. But before he could speak, she
had taken a pair of pink leather high heel pumps from her
closet and, pushing him back on the bed once again, slipped
them on his feet. He stood before the mirror seeing his last
vestige of manhood disappear. But he really didn't care. He
was remembering how he felt way back during those summers at
his Aunt Beth's and enjoyed the feel of the garments on his
body. He wanted Stephanie to tell him again how cute he
looked, and began to move shamelessly. Stephanie squealed
with delight and rushed to the closet taking down the most
beautiful pink lace dress. "How do you like it?" It was
stunning...lacy soft puffed sleeves with a gathered crepe
bodice and three tiers of lace for the generous skirt sashed
at the waist. In Stephanie's dress, he felt just like a
princess.
Stephanie sat him down at her dressing table and started
doing his makeup, applying a liquid foundation to his face,
she followed this with eyeshadow, liner and mascara to his
already almond-shaped eyes. She then rouged his cheeks and
painted his lips a very hot pink. His jewelry consisted of
pearl earrings, (She applied one to his already pierced ear,
then pierced the other herself). A strand of pearls around
his neck, a little teasing of his long hair for half an hour,
followed by a spray net and his transformation was complete.
"Beautiful," she said patting his shoulder. "C'mon, you can
mix us a drink downstairs and we can waste time with giggles
and girl-talk."
Tommy had taken two sips from his screwdriver when the
doorbell rang. "Answer it," Stephanie ordered. Tommy was
petrified but, under his skirt it didn't show. "Dressed like
this?" he questioned. "Why not?" she wanted to know. "If
anyone asks, you're my cousin from out of town." He melted in
the warmth of her smile. Cautiously, he approached the front
door, feeling dreadfully exposed beneath his lacy skirt.
When he finally opened the door, in came the entire
costume committee, five girls all his classmates (Debbie,
Heather, Denise, Kim and Carol) they were all crowded into the
foyer. "Hi sissy," called Heather, laughing. "What a pretty
pink dress, Sissy," said Carol. They were all taking turns
squeezing his corseted waist and kissing his painted lips.
For the first time in his life, other than when with Suzie and
Jenny, he felt like he really belonged.
Of course the party turned out to be a pajama party that
Stephanie had invited him to, and since he had left his
pajamas at home, the girls marched him right back up to
Stephanie's bedroom to select for him the prettiest night
clothes they could find. It was Debbie a beautiful little
blonde who finally picked out a naughty little satin and lace
pinafore in baby blue with little matching ruffled back
panties that tied on the side.
The night ended as the sun came up on a new day, after
'Tomi' had eaten all six girls and he thought fucked them all
also (at least once), as he fell off to sleep, surrounded by
beautiful female bodies sprawled in all directions. He knew
that his pretty new friends would never be far from his side
and that he would never want to be a man again.



CHAPTER 5


A NEW MISTRESS


The following day, Tomi was kept nude all day as the
girls explored the extent of their control over him. He
served as a nude waiter for both their breakfast and lunch and
whenever he was within one of them's reach, they fondled his
cock and balls almost casually. By 1:00 in the afternoon,
Stephanie realized that Tomi had seemed depressed all day and
thought she knew the reason why. The other girls had gone to
the store and they were alone in the house, so now was a good
time to find out if she was right.
"Tomi, come over here," she called, and as always, the
boy complied without comment. "Tomi, you don't seem happy
like you were last night," she offered. Tomi was standing
nude before this beautiful red head with his head down and
tears welled to the corners of his eyes, but he said nothing.
"Tell me what the problem is, Tomi," Stephanie said as softly
as possible yet still somewhat stern.
In almost a whisper, Tommy replied, "I...I like being
with you girls, but, I don't like being undressed all the
time." The tears started flowing down his cheeks and Stepha-
nie stood up and hugged the smaller boy to her. "You want to
wear MY clothes, don't you Tomi," she whispered in his ear, as
she gently stroked his back and sides. "Please, yes," was all
the boy was able to choke out. "Oh, my poor sweet sissy, I
should have known," Stephanie cooed to him.
Stephanie was wearing a peasant type blouse and Tomi's
head pressed against her breasts had worked the top downward.
His mouth rested just above her nipples and the smell of her
clean flesh and light perfume along with her tender stroking
had him very excited.
Tommy kissed her between the breasts and Stephanie
pressed herself harder against his mouth. She was hugging his
trembling body to her as hard as she could and it was all he
could manage to get his hands up to the frilly collar of her
blouse and pull it down enough to free her breasts. When they
were clear, he dove on her right nipple with everything he
had, sucking and lightly biting it, in between licks and
flicks with his tongue. Stephanie's pale white skin had
little freckles s**ttered across her breasts her nipples were
very dark and stood out like little cones under the ministra-
tions of his eager mouth. Stephanie could not believe how
this boy's talented mouth was working over her tits and knew
that even though he had few dates at school, SOMEONE had
taught him how to make a woman happy.
Stephanie, sat down in the chair behind her and pulled
him onto her lap, cradling his head in her arm so that his
wonderful mouth never lost contact with her breast. As he
suckled her breast, she continued stroking his body and
enjoyed the feel of his smooth skin. After a while, she
disconnected him and had him kneel between her legs, then
lifted her skirt and removed her panties. "Put them on," she
directed as she handed over her silky panties and with a broad
smile on his face, Tommy eagerly complied. "Now, eat my pussy
little Sissy, eat it good and I may let you do it again."
Stephanie's mound had a light covering of bright red
hair, the same color as on her head. Her lips were swollen
and partially open from his sucking of her breasts. When he
parted the lips, Tommy found the inner flesh to be bright pink
and her little clitoris stood up erect as a cock. Her juices
were flowing freely from her excitement, and Tommy lapped at
her slit trying to get every drop. His tongue flicked her
clit and worked deep into her opening then returned to her
clit in a continuous and frantic ballet. Stephanie couldn't
take much of this, the best treatment her young pussy had ever
experienced. Over the next 25 minutes she came 9 times and
each time drenched his face with her flow. Finally, she
pulled him upright, unable to take any more for a while and
kissed him on the mouth, tasting her own sweet juice on his
lips. "Oh, you darling little Sissy,...You will be spending
a LOT of time doing THAT!"
Stephanie then marched him to the bathroom and handed him
a razor and told him not to come out until he was hairless
below the neck. Tomi smiled and gave Stephanie a kiss on the
cheek then went into the bathroom and whistled as he removed
the awful hair from his body. When he emerged he was almost
as hairless as the day he was born and after surveying the
results, Stephanie gave her approval.
Back in the bedroom, Stephanie handed him a pair of pink
bikini panties, matching bra (including two foam pads) and
garter belt with pale off-white stockings. She watched as he
quickly donned the garments and noted that he knew EXACTLY how
to put them on and wear them properly. Last night was not the
first time this boy had dressed as a girl. A full length slip
followed, and was topped by a cute floral-print chiffon dress.
It had big ruffles around the cleavage, collar and hem. For
accessories she chose a pink belt and a pink hat and a pair of
black patent leather shoes. Stephanie lead him to the
dressing table and was going to do his makeup and hair, when
to her amazement he did it himself and as competently as any
girl she had ever seen. When he was done, he was one of the
prettiest girls she had ever seen and she knew he could go
anywhere without detection.
When the other girls returned, Tomi met them at the door
all smiles and giggly. "You did a great job on him," Debbie
said to Stephanie, "No, he did it himself," she replied. All
of the girls inspected him and complemented him on how pretty
he looked and what a good job he had done on his makeup and
hair. Tomi, blushed and gave each a kiss and a hug for their
complements. They spent the rest of they day like 7 girls,
talking, joking, playing games, listening to records and
having a good time. It was as if they had forgotten that one
was really a boy. From that day on, Tomi/Tommy had an
entirely new life. Each day he would go to the stage area of
the school whenever he was scheduled for a study hall. One of
the girls would meet him there and invariably he would be
dressed in one of the many costumes the school maintained for
their plays. After one of the other girls caught him eating
Stephanie's pussy in one of the dressing rooms, he soon was
directed to eat all of them. By then he was most times while
dressed, ordered to provide one or more girls with sex in some
form. Usually he had to eat their tight little snatches, and
sometimes they wanted to fuck either vaginally or anally.
After school he would be told which girl's house to
report to, and once there, either served them as a waitress
with no panties, or would be dressed in frilly clothing to
serve them. The girls would always stroke his cock and balls
whenever he was within reach, because they had decided that if
he was hard and no one needed his cock for sex, then he must
put on a jerk-off show for the girls present.
The first time he was told to put on a show for the
girls, he had refused. Stephanie, the most dominant of the
group, put her knee in his crotch and busted his balls pretty
bad. He had doubled over on the floor, and she and Debbie had
removed his clothing, then Stephanie again demanded that he
jerk-off for them. When he groaned that he couldn't, Stepha-
nie pulled his scrotum and smacked his balls hard! Then lead-
ing him by his balls, which she squeezed in her hand, she led
him to the TV and told him to sit on it.
She told him to jerk-off or she would twist his balls
off! He didn't respond, he was exasperated and helpless,
Stephanie twisted, and Tommy winced, groaned, bent forward,
shrieked, THEN he took his cock in hand and he beat it off for
them. He half filled a drinking cup, cumming four times.
Then was forced to drink his own cum while the girls cheered
him on.
Their Senior year, Stephanie got into bondage and
discipline, having been given some books on the subject, by
other girls she knew. One day she called Tommy to her in the
back stage area and showed him a cock strap and told him she
wanted him to wear it at all times unless she gave him
permission to remove it. He didn't want to do it but knew
Stephanie would bust his balls again if he didn't. So he let
her put it on him, under his balls and over his cock; making
both stick straight out. That evening all the girls saw the
new strap as he served refreshments to the girls and as soon
as they had stroked him to hardness, he was ordered to dance
for them. His balls were shaking and jiggling as he danced
and all of the girls watched and teased him. When Stephanie
tired of watching him shake his genitals, she said, "OK, now
show us how you jerk-off!" Which he did although red from the
embarrassment not the sex.
Tommy had become their sex slave, and tried to keep all
six mistresses happy. This was almost too much for one boy to
accomplish as they sometimes would make conflicting demands
upon him. Stephanie, however, established herself as the
primary Mistress and none of the others, ever tried to
contradict her.
Stephanie, would often have him come to her house, for
one-on-one training. She would strip him and tie his hands
behind his back, then take a shower and have him dry her pussy
and anus with his tongue. She would take him for walks naked
at night, with a leash tied to his balls and threaten to take
him to friends houses, if he did not immediately obey her
every command.
She celebrated her good luck by ordering him to bend over
a footstool and with his legs spread very wide, whipped his
buttocks and inner thighs with a belt, making him count the
swats. He remained in this position while she sat behind him
and squeezed his testicles awhile. At other times, she would
tie him in her dad's workshop, with his wrists bound overhead
to a hook on a beam, and would twist a piece of plastic
covered wire tightly around his cock to keep him erect. Then
attach alligator clips snapped onto the tips of his nipples,
the teeth biting hard into his flesh. She made him stand on
tip toes for hours, the clips chewing into his nipples and
amused herself by brushing his penis with a stiff brush.
Occasionally, Stephanie would fuck his ass with a dildo,
her older sister had given her. When she told the other girls
she had done this, they all wanted to see it, so that evening
she did it in front of all the girls. Tommy climaxed from the
ass fucking with the dildo, and it became a daily part of the
show thereafter. It was only a question of which girl, with
which dildo his backside was being plowed.
The night of their graduation party, Stephanie took him
to the party fully dressed as a girl, with his hands bound
behind his back. He was dressed in a bra, panties, garter
belt, stockings, sheer blouse and short denim skirt. He had
on full makeup and Stephanie had plucked his eyebrows so that
they were definitely female in appearance and had sprayed him
with perfume. She wore her older brothers clothing and when
they arrived at the party, told the other k**s that they had
challenged one another to dress up in each other's clothing.
Tomi had taken the switch to heart, she added pointing out his
plucked eyebrows, shaved legs, and lifting his skirt to reveal
his panties, garter belt and stockings. Tommy's friends
stared as he reddened. Stephanie told them that he had balked
at going to the party and that she had been forced to tie him
up before they left.
For the rest of the party he was teased unmercifully by
his friends and their dates. He was totally humiliated, and
begged Stephanie to take him home, but they stayed the entire
party. Some of the boys sat beside him and asked him what it
was like to wear girls clothing and one named Dennis even
stroked his thigh when he thought no one was looking.
Stephanie, however, observed it and whispered in the boy's
ear, that Tomi would give him a blowjob if he wanted and if
she could watch. "Why Not!" he replied, and Tomi was lead to
another room, the door closed and locked behind them.
Tomi was placed on his knees and Stephanie unbuckled the
other boy's pants and lowered them. "Isn't she pretty,"
Stephanie said as she stroked the boy to hardness. "Damn near
as good looking as you," he replied. Stephanie then lead
Dennis to Tomi and placed the hard 7" cock to his lips. Tomi
knew he had no choice so he gave Dennis the best blowjob he
could with his hands bound behind him. Stephanie watched with
interest as Tomi 'deep throated' the boy and thought to
herself that "this is not his first blowjob either." Dennis
came hard, but Tomi managed to swallow almost all of his cum;
then Stephanie, who had been fingering herself throughout the
show, ripped off her panties and forced her pussy into his
mouth.
Dennis watched as Tomi worked over Stephanie's fine cunt
and while watching grew hard again. Seeing this, Stephanie
looked at him and said, "Fuck his ass, do it real good too."
Dennis needed no further encouragement and soon was buried to
the hilt in Tommy's tight ass, and stroked hard, pushing
Tommy's face even deeper in to Stephanie's pussy. Stephanie
was now coming almost continuously and when Dennis shot his
load in Tommy's ass, Tommy also came without anyone ever
touching his dick. They collapsed in a heap on the floor and
when they emerged the party was over. Both 'girls' kissed
Dennis goodnight and he thanked them for the good time, whis-
pering in Tommy's ear that he would never tell anyone about
it. Stephanie, however, made no such promise.
On the way home, Stephanie looked over at her still bound
passenger and said, "You had to do it sometime, if your going
to live as a girl, AND YOU WILL BE LIVING AS A GIRL FROM HERE
ON OUT!"


CHAPTER 6


COLLEGE


Stephanie took him with her to college when she left
after graduation, where he assumed the full-time identity and
life of a woman. He served as her housemaid and body servant.
The other girls attended the same college and on weekends they
had parties at Stephanie's apartment. The feature attraction
at the parties was a little brown haired slave girl named Tomi
who had been put on hormone treatments and now had breasts
which measured "34A" but almost filled a "B" cup bra. Tomi
was still smaller than the girls standing only 5'4" and 110
lbs. and when dressed in his 'Roman slave' costume with it's
short white skirt, tunic and sandals looked the part of a
young girl. His hair now reached almost to his waist in back
and was worn straight, parted down the center of his head.
The girls liked to assume the role of 'gladiators' and
would tie him face down on the bed with his knees spread apart
on the floor and then slam 7-10" strap-on dildos in and out of
his poor young ass until he came on his own. Occasionally,
one of them would allow him to fuck her, but they seemed to
prefer making love to a small thin girl rather than his man
meat. Stephanie, however, allowed him to fuck her almost
every night, AFTER she tired of his talented mouth.
At the beginning of her Sophomore year, Stephanie wanted
to pledge a Sorority, called 'Beta Delta Omega' which the
girls in confidence said meant "B & D Forever" and consisted
of girls into Female Domination of men. In order to gain
admission, Stephanie had to present her slave to the Sorority
at a party to be held and demonstrate her control over him.
Tommy was not told what was going to happen only that Stepha-
nie was taking him out for the night and that they would be
going to a Sorority party.
When they arrived at the house, Tomi was lead inside by
Stephanie and found the room filled to capacity with over 100
beautiful women. He was lead into a large living room off the
center entrance hall and was told to stand in the middle of
the room. When the door was closed behind him, the room was
in total darkness until a powerful desk lamp was turned on,
spotlighting him in the center of the room. It took a few
seconds for his eyes to adjust to the dim light and it was
then that he realized that all of the women he had seen when
he entered the house, now surrounded him. The room was silent
except for a few whispers, until one of the girls spoke from
the darkness.
Tomi was asked his name and told that his mistress,
Stephanie had applied for membership in this sorority, and
that in order for her to be accepted, HE would have to undergo
some initiation rites. He was asked if he wanted his
Mistress to be accepted and if he were willing to do what was
necessary to help her. He responded that he was willing to do
anything for Stephanie. "VERY GOOD," said the voice from the
dark, "Start by Undressing."
Tomi suddenly became afraid, he had been nude in front of
the six girls many times, but there were over 100 here and he
was reluctant to show them his feminized body. He looked at
the girls closest to him and noted they were all holding large
paddles and they way they were gripping them indicated to him
that they were just looking to use them. He quickly stripped
down to his panties and bra and his softly rounded form and
swelling breasts brought whispers of appreciation from some of
the girls in the room. When he hesitated for a second, the
next instruction was both verbal and physical. With what he
was sure wall all of the power the girl could muster, one of
the girls hit him square on the ass with her paddle, while
another reminded him that he had been told to take off his
clothing and that meant ALL of his clothing!
Tomi quickly removed his bra and again heard many
whispers of appreciation at his well formed breasts. When he
hesitated again, he received another hard whack on the rear
end. He now knew that whatever else was going to happen to
him, he was going to have to stand naked before a room full of
over 200 female eyes. When his clean shaven crotch came into
view he once again heard many whispers of admiration at the
work Stephanie had done. He was then told to bend over and
spread the cheeks of his ass and turn slowly around the room,
red from head to toe he slowly complied, just missing another
whack with the paddle.
The voice then told him to circle the room, facing each
girl in the front row and presenting his genitals to her. He
was given a small saucer that he had to place under his
testicles before stepping in front of each girl, allowing them
to pull, squeeze, and probe him as they pleased. Many of the
girls also worked on his breasts in addition to his cock and
balls and it was during this part of the initiation that he
started to develop an erection.
After each girl in the front row was finished with him,
he was told to go back to the middle of the room and jerk off
in time with a record that began playing on the record player.
By now his penis was fully erect and frankly he was looking
for some relief. Having jerked off for the girls many times,
this was nothing new, so he grabbed himself and to the cheers
and clapping of the girls brought himself off in a tremendous
climax which shook his entire body.
At this point several more slaves were brought into the
room and Tomi was made to suck each to a climax, swallowing
all of their cum. He was told that if he lost any, he would
receive a whack for each drop lost. Again he received cheers
as he performed above apparent expectations. One of the other
slaves was then told to fuck Tomi's ass, and soon Tomi felt
what had to be a 10" long and very thick cock working it's way
up his ass. He relaxed his ass and without any trouble the
boy was buried to the hilt. As his ass was being fucked, he
reached out and drew the other slave back to him and sucked
the boy's cock; this brought a resounding cheer and applause
from the girls who had not expected such a show.
Needless to say, Stephanie was accepted into the sorority
and Tomi became the 'Property of the House' and had to service
any girl at any time. Only Stephanie, however was permitted
to discipline him. He lived for the next 6 years in that
house, while Stephanie got her BA, MA, and PHD degrees. Upon
graduation with her doctor's degree in psychology, Stephanie
set up practice in a town nearby and she and her housemaid
lived together for many years.


*****************
The End?




















From impala@erols.com Sat Apr 05 08:31:26 1997
Path: news1*****ave.net!news-dc-10.sprintlink.net!news-pull.sprintlink.net!news-peer.sprintlink.net!howland.erols.net!feed1.news.erols.com!news
From: "Impala" <impala@erols.com>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.tg
Subject: REPOST MICHELLE
Date: 5 Apr 1997 13:31:26 GMT
Organization: Erol's Internet Services
Lines: 1237
Message-ID: <01bc41c6$43a13660$1d0960cf@impala.erols.com>
NNTP-Posting-Host: lxp-as1s29.erols.com
Mime-Version: 1.0
Content-Type: multipart/mixed; boundary="----=_NextPart_000_01BC419C.5ACB2E60"
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit
X-Received-On: 5 Apr 1997 13:31:26 GMT
X-Newsreader: Microsoft Internet News 4.70.1155

This is a multi-part message in MIME format.

------=_NextPart_000_01BC419C.5ACB2E60
Content-Type: text/plain; charset=ISO-8859-1
Content-Transfer-Encoding: quoted-printable


------=_NextPart_000_01BC419C.5ACB2E60
Content-Type: application/octet-stream; name="mstorys.txt"
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit
Content-Description: mstorys.txt (Text Document)
Content-Disposition: attachment; filename="mstorys.txt"

Subject: michelle's story #2
Date: Mon, 04 Nov 1996 08:29:18 -0800
From: michelle <pattee@mail.ohio.net>
Organization: Microserve Information Systems (800)-380-INET
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.tg




My Aunt Gave Me A New Life







As i already wrote, my Mistress has threated to turn me into a gay
shemale slut -- and i'm terrified. Last night i began thinking about how
this whole thing began.

We've lived next door to one another for years, and i've always admired
Her from a distance. She is beautiful! She has a small frame, 5'2",
dark hair, beautiful eyes, a dynamite little body with good size breasts,
beautiful legs. i guess You can say that She was my fantasy. A number
of years ago, when they first moved in next door, She came over with her
daughter to introduce Herself to my wife and i. She wore yellow tight
short shorts with a halter type of top and my mouth just dropped and
drooled. my Wife noticed and made a joke about it later, asking if our
next door neighbor would be my new Mistress.

Well, since that time my "Mistress" has gotten a divorce, Her daughter
has grown up to be a beauty herself, and i've grown to have just too much
time on my hands.

i work at home, so i have plenty of time to play my lingerie games when
my Wife goes to work. She knows about my fetish for panties and female
items, and She tolerates it, but doesn't encourage it. So for most of
our married years we have satisfied one another (more and more
infrequently) in the usual borely quick missionary style and then off to
sleep. At least She let me wear some panties when we made love!

That's what got me in trouble, i guess. i was wearing a pair of those
panties the day my neighbor stopped by for some "male help." A limb of a
tree had broken -- not completely off -- but enough to threated to break
one of Her windows. She wanted me to use a ladder, climb up and saw the
limb. i was only too happy to give Her a hand.

I got everything i needed and was up the ladder doing my "duty". i had
on a rather short pair of shorts myself, which, because of the years, had
become a little tight. i got the limb cut, put the ladder away, and She
invited me in for a cup of coffee.

While we were sitting down on the couch in Her living room, She looked me
straight in the eyes and asked what color my panties were. i died! She
had seen the clear panty line beneath my shorts and while i was coming
down the ladder She caught a glimpse of the waist band peeking above the
top of my shorts. "you're a panty boy", She said as She stared me down.

Without saying more than another word, She kneeled in front of me and
began opening the catch of my shorts. i was unable to move. She smiled
and gave a sly laugh when She revealed a pink satin panty under my
shorts. "These will have to come off," She said as She tugged my shorts
down my legs. I was as hard as a rock and She was having a good time of
my embarrassment.

my shirt came off, too. my nipples were hard as Her delicate fingers
played with the tips. "i think i've found a new play toy", She said.
She kissed me full on the lips as Her hand carressed my hard cock through
my panties.

She got up, and told me to stay there while She got Herself ready. i
thought She was going to slip into something really sexy. i was getting
hot and sweaty just thinking about getting into Her pants -- my fantasy
girl! Suddenly, there was a click of a camera -- then two -- then three.
She had taken a quick half a dozen pictures of me before i could cover
up. "I don't think You want to DO that," She said. i dropped my shirt
which i had grabbed and She told me to start playing with my cock through
my panties.

click! click! As i masturbated through my panties She began to tell me
how my life would change. "i am not interested in males," She said. "i
got rid of My last one and haven't had a need for one since. Do you want
to know what happened to My husband?", she asked me.

"Well, SHE'S living with a pimp and earning her money off the streets. I
decided that he was a slut of a man to live with, so I used my wiles and
my charms -- and a few other little surprises -- and I feminized him. In
fact, I've completely turned him into a shemale. Do you want to see a
picture?" She went to a shelf and showed me some pictures of a man
progressively being changed from a male to a female. The last picture
showed him with huge breasts, a female face stuffed with cock, and a huge
cock of his own.

i came in my panties as i looked at the pictures. She just laughed a
wicked little laugh and told me to tuck myself away and go back home.
"Oh, by the way", She added, "I've also got YOU on tape." She pointed
out a video camera that i hadn't noticed pointing right me. "Go home,
**********, until I call you", She said.

She kept my shorts and my shirt and i had to slither back home hoping no
one would notice me. No one did.

The next day i did get a call. i was sweating things out hoping that my
new Mistress wouldn't tell my Wife what i had done. She didn't. "Be
here in five minutes", She told me. "Be wearing your jockey shorts and
carry over in your hand a pair of your frilliest panties." She hung up
as soon as She gave Her command.

When i arrived, She chided me for not carrying the panties so
anyone could them. She commanded me to strip down to my jockey shorts
and stand before Her naked. She took the yellow panties i had brought
along and played with my nipples with the material.

"I want you to take off those male shorts -- because you don't deserve to
wear male clothing, you pussy," She said. "What kind of male would wear
panties? you are a pitiful excuse as male and I'm going to change all
that for you." She commanded me to strip my jockeys off and handed me a
scissors. "Cut through the crotch," She demanded. i didn't know what
Her game was, but She was dressed so sexy in a see-through blouse --
braless -- short mini skirt. i did as She commanded. "Throw them away
and put your panties on, slut," She ordered. Then as happened the day
before i was told to mastrubate in the panties while She watched and sent
on my way back home.

i had to repeat this process every day for the next ten days until i
finally ran out of jockeys. "you will NEVER wear male underwear again,"
She told me. "Today, your training begins. We will meet for an hour
each morning. I will take command of your mind and soul. your life, as
you have known it, is over. By the time I'm finished with you, you will
become a gay shemale slave like my former husband."

i didn't -- couldn't -- believe what i was hearing. During the past ten
days i have been photographed in the most compromising positions, but i
have never had sex with my Mistress. i cannot just leave because of Her
proof that i had done unspeakable things. For more than ten days She has
repeated to me over and over again that i am not a male, but a sissy,
slutty shemale. She makes me repeat over and over again that i love cock
and want to obey my Mistress. i am mind-numbed at what has happened.

She says that by years end i will be well on my way to being like Her
husband -- i will be gay, on my way to becoming a shemale -- and i will
be looking for a new home.

help!

michelle

------=_NextPart_000_01BC419C.5ACB2E60
Content-Type: application/octet-stream; name="mstorys2.txt"
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit
Content-Description: mstorys2.txt (Text Document)
Content-Disposition: attachment; filename="mstorys2.txt"

Subject: Can She Make Me Gay?
Date: Sun, 03 Nov 1996 21:22:41 -0800
From: michelle <pattee@mail.ohio.net>
Organization: Microserve Information Systems (800)-380-INET
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.tg

i'm a little concerned. i have never been interested in anything but a
heterosexual life-style. i've enjoyed reading stories about how men were
forced into Gay experiences and then trapped into that life-style
permenantly. Whenever i've read such stories i've always found myself
hard and horny -- especially when the woman first feminized the male or
changed him into a shemale. That is REALLY a turn on.

my Mistress has taken notice that i gravitate toward this kind of
fantasy. She said that She has personally transformed straight males
into full time gay sissies and that She has determined that i am to join
that sorority. i'm terrified.

First, i don't believe you can make someone gay -- can you? She says
it's a matter of mind-control; Her mind over mine. She has been
repeating over and over again Her threat to make me a Gay sissy -- or
even worse, a Gay shemale sissy. i've heard the threat enough so that i
can't stop thinking about it. Day and night the thought She has planted
in my mind is becoming an obsession. Is this what mind-control is all
about?

Like the moth to the flame i can't seem to turn away. Each time She
feminizes me She makes me think of sucking cock and being used by a male
as a slut. Now, when i see a man i look at his bulge and wonder how full
my mouth would be with his meat. i've never had thoughts like this
before, and now i can't stop thinking this way.

She says i'm getting closer and that i will eventually beg to be Her Gay
shemale slut. i don't want it to be this way, but i wonder what it would
be like. Can She really control me and change me? Will it be a
permenant change like She said?

i'm thinking of running away from Her, but She laughed and asked me to
try. i did -- but i couldn't leave Her. She told me that She knew i
wouldn't be able to, and that my Gay days would be here before the end of
the year.

i've never believed that the stories were anything more than stories, but
i feel trapped -- seduced by my Mistress's desires to reshape my sexual
orientation.

Can i get out of this, or is it too late. Help please!

michelle

------=_NextPart_000_01BC419C.5ACB2E60
Content-Type: application/octet-stream; name="michelle3.txt"
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit
Content-Description: michelle3.txt (Text Document)
Content-Disposition: attachment; filename="michelle3.txt"

Subject: michelle's Story #3
Date: ***, 05 Nov 1996 13:44:34 -0800
From: michelle <pattee@mail.ohio.net>
Organization: Microserve Information Systems (800)-380-INET
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.tg

She asked me what i had done with all my male underwear, i told Her.
Mistress Sandy
smiled at me and asked, what did you tell her?

i told her that i liked wearing silky things and that i got rid of
them.

What did she say about that?, asked Mistress.

She told me that if that’s the way i wanted it, it would be a cold day
in hell before i got
any male underwear to put back into my drawer. Then she reminded me
about my
doctor’s appointment coming up next week. ‘You’ve got an appointment
with Dr.
Smith!’, she quipped.

Who’s Dr. Smith?, asked Mistress.

She’s our family doctor and i’ve got a physical coming up next week. my
Wife told me
that since i had changed my wardrobe so dramatically, it would stay that
way. She said i
would have to go to the appointment wearing one of my daintier panties.

And so you shall, stated Mistress.

* * * *

i had spent the first two hour of the morning, after my wife had left for
work, in Mistress
Sandy’s house next door. As it had been for the past 12 days or so, i
have stripped down
to my underwear. i only have panties now since Mistress Sandy had me cut
up, one each
day until they were gone, my male jockey shorts. i didn’t have enough
panties to replace
all the male underwear i had destroyed, so She made sure that i went to
J.C. Penny’s
everyday to purchase one new pair of panties in my size.

i’ve purchased panties -- many of them -- before. This was different,
however. Before i
would go once or twice a year, and i was certain that any store clerk who
had helped me
would never remember who i was. Everyday Mistress made me go back to the
same
store, seek out the same young clerk to help me select my panties for the
day, go to the
same cashier, and then go home. By the second day the young lady who was
helping me
knew fully that i was buying the panties for myself. By day four, She
was greeting me by
name before i even entered the rows that had the panties. Day six, She
held a pair of
panties to my waist to make certain they would fit. my embarrassment
deepened by the
day.

i finally told Her that my Mistress was making me buy panties for Her.
She looked me in
the eye and said, sure! And isn’t it nice that you are both the same
size? Red is just the
color i naturally turn now when i see my lady clerk.

After i had shaved my legs -- a daily routine in Mistress Sandy’s
bathroom -- i came out
for my daily inspection. There were no more pictures taken of me
anymore. Mistress
said She had all the pictures She needed to assure my silence. But
still, i have the urge to
get out of this twisted nightmare before i’m sucked in for good.

i’ve thought about just telling my wife everything -- especially since
i’ve never had sex of
any kind with Mistress Sandy. It would be far preferrable to take the
embarrassment and
punishment and run before She makes me Gay. i have to repeat my
submissive mantra
an hour in Her presence -- and She has me repeating it at least three
more hours during
the day. i am not a man -- i am a sissy fag -- i am not a man -- i am a
cocksucking slut --
i am not a man -- my pussy belongs to my Mistress -- i am not a man -- i
love wearing
panties. On and on it goes until all i can think about is my
feminization and slavery.
Each day before i leave She chuckles and tells me that soon i will be
sucking cock
dressed like a slutty whore. She says i will beg for it.

Now you can see why i have to get out of this mess. What would happen if
Her daughter
ever came home and found me with Her mother? Then i would be in trouble
with the
police since Her daughter’s ******* (at least i think She is!)

my assignment today: buy a bra from my saleslady. A bra from a store
i’ve NEVER
done. i’ve purchased one from mailorder, but never from the store. i am
to ask for help
being sized and for my saleslady’s opinion as to how large the cups
should be. i’ll do this
one last thing and then i’ll tell my wife and get out of this mess. What
a mess i’m in!

michelle

------=_NextPart_000_01BC419C.5ACB2E60
Content-Type: application/octet-stream; name="michelle4.txt"
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit
Content-Description: michelle4.txt (Text Document)
Content-Disposition: attachment; filename="michelle4.txt"

Subject: michelle's story #4
Date: Thu, 07 Nov 1996 08:27:40 -0800
From: michelle <pattee@mail.ohio.net>
Organization: Microserve Information Systems (800)-380-INET
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.tg

i now have a new bra -- "My Satin Fantasy", it's called. i decided the
other day to get this humiliation over with since Mistress Sandy ordered
me back to my saleslady to ask help to buy a bra. For two weeks now i
had to go to Penny's to buy one pair of panties each day to replace the
jockey shorts my Mistress was destroying. i had to use the same young
saleslady each day -- and by the end of the first week i couldn't hide
the fact anymore that i was buying the panties for myself. But a bra?

i saw the saleslady, a beautiful young woman in her early 20's with a
gorgeous figure, and She immediately smiled and came up to me. "Well,
what kind of panties do you want today, my good fairy."

my head was bowed and i told Her that i was not interested in panties
today, but a bra. "i need help finding out what size i wear," i told Her
-- "and i need to ask You to help me determine what size cups i should be
wearing." She laughed outloud causing some other customers to look our
way.

"Come right this way, sweetie, i've got just the bra for you," She said.
She held up a satin bra with a flower pattern on it to my chest. "Do
you want big tits or small ones?", She asked me. i told Her i didn't
know, that it was up to Her. "I think you're a big tit person, aren't
you?", She asked. With that She gave me a DD size up. "you can take
this up to the cashier -- or, do you want to wear it home?," She quipped.
i nearly died.

i was sure that this was the last straw and that i would do anything to
get myself out of this mess. i was going to tell me wife about
everything. She'd be mad as hell, but at least i wouldn't be being
blackmailed like i was now.

When i got home i had a message on my phone machine. It was from
Mistress Sandy instructing me to come over wearing my new bra and a pair
of panties that matched the closest. She instructed me to shave my legs
and "make myself pretty for Her." What if my Wife had gotten that
message instead of me?, i thought. i knew i had to go over to my
neighbor and straighten this fiasco out.

i went over there with my new package still in my hands and no intention
of wearing it for Her. When i rang the bell, She didn't answer directly,
but i heard someone yell for me to come in. i walked in the door and
looked in the front room and no one was there. The television was on and
there on the screen was ME! She was playing the video of me masturbating
into my panties and saying all sorts o leud things. my eyes were rivoted
on the TV and i didn't notice that someone had come into the room behind
me.

"Nice pictures", She said. i swung around to see Mistress Sandy's
daughter, Becky, standing there with very little on. She was in black
panties, a tiny black bra which barely held Her soft breasts, black
garter and stockings finished her ensemble. She walked straight up to
me, put Her arms around me neck and began kissing me deeply. Her small
hand began to rub the bulge growing in my panties. i was in a stew --
horny as hell but scared at the new twist this nightmare was taking. i
tried to push Her away, but She just hung on -- and then without a
warning She lifted Her knee briskly into my crotch. i doubled over and
grabbed my balls with a most surprised look on my face.

"you asshole! Why aren't you wearing your bra? I'd suggest you get
yourself properly dressed so we can have some fun!", She ordered.

i don't know why i did it, but i began taking off my shirt and pants, and
soon i was standing there with my new bra and white panties. Becky was
quite pleased at my behavior, and again came toward me. She began to
play with my nipples through the bra while rubbing Herself closely
against my body. She was intentionally turning me on to the point that i
could not think straight. She was kissing me again -- carressing me --
pushing down on my shoulders -- thrusting her panties crotch to my lips.

Over the next half hour i did all sorts of delicious things to that young
body -- and then She began to do some delicious thing to mine. She
rubbed my panties until they were wet with my precum -- and then She
slipped my little dick out and began to put it into Her mouth. She
played with me, bringing me to the point of climax over and over again,
only to stop before i could cum.

Suddenly the front door swung open -- and there was Mistress Sandy.
"Well, my little queer," She said -- "i see you also enjoy lesbian lust!"
As hard as i was, i grew limp in only seconds. "What do you think you
are doing with my daughter?", She demanded in an angry tone.

"Your daughter came on to ME!", i countered.

She walked through the room toward a door that i had not payed attention
to before -- and stood by the video camera that was on.

"I think you had better do what we ask, my little whore," She said.

I knew that i had been trapped for good.

*****

The next hour was spent repeating my mantra, blue balls and all.
Mistress Sandy and Mistress Becky were talking about how their little
plan worked and how they intented to continue my feminization.

my next assignment? Go back to my saleslady. Only this time i am to be
wearing my yellow stretch lace panties, my new bra with two panties
stuffed into each cup, shorts, and a thin white shirt. It's too cold to
be wearing shorts this time of year, so i know that everyone will notice,
especially since my legs are shaved smooth. And the bra! Those flowers
show through anything -- especially when they are stuffed! i am to buy
two more bras, a garter belt and black nylons, some nail polish and
matching lipstick (my saleslady's choice of colors). i am to wear put
the lipstick on and wear it home -- and i am to give Mistess's phone
number to the saleslady so She can verify that i followed my
instructions.

NOTE OF HELP FROM MY READERS: Mistress has complained that my legs are
not smooth enough. i am shaving everyday, but by the end of the day i
have a rough little stubble which She does not like. She wants me girl
smooth all the time. Any suggestions?

------=_NextPart_000_01BC419C.5ACB2E60
Content-Type: application/octet-stream; name="michelle5.txt"
Content-Transfer-Encoding: quoted-printable
Content-Description: michelle5.txt (Text Document)
Content-Disposition: attachment; filename="michelle5.txt"

[Previous] [Next] [Hitlist] [Get Thread] [Author Profile]
[Post] [Post] [Reply]
-------------------------------------------------------------------------=
--

Article 46 of 967

Subject: REPOST: michelle's story #5
From: michelle <pattee@mail.ohio.net>
Date: 1996/11/11
Message-Id: <328796F7.5980@mail.ohio.net>
Distribution: world
Content-Type: text/plain; charset=3Diso-8859-1
Organization: Microserve Information Systems (800)-380-INET
Mime-Version: 1.0
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.tg
X-Mailer: Mozilla 2.0 (Win95; I; 16bit)
Article Segment 1 of 2
(Get All 2 Segments)

michelle=92s story #5

i showed HER, i did!. She had ordered me to go back to Penny=92s to buy
somemore
feminine attire -- only this time She wanted me dressed in a most
humiliating manner. i
was to be wearing my yellow stretch lace panties, a tiny pair of shorts
(it was snowing
today!), my flowery bra with each cup stuffed with two pair of panties,
and a sheer white
shirt which would clearly show off my new bra.

i have to stand up for my rights!, so i didn=92t do what Mistress Sandy =
and
Miss Becky told
me to do. i went home, and promised to put this whole thing behind me.
i didn=92t think
that either of my new Mistresses would have the courage to do anthing
about it. Boy, was
i wrong!

*******

my Wife initiated a conversation with me about my new hobby. She is
worried that i now
wear nothing but panties under my clothes and that my legs are shaved
(not that She
objects to how smooth they feel! -- She told me last night that She =
liked
the way our legs
feel when we intertwine in bed!)

She found my bra and asked me just how far i was going to take this new
life-style. i
turned a bit red and stumbled out some sort of answer that i didn=92t =
know.
She ended the
conversation by saying that my new found hobby better not include
anything permenant,
like hormones. i just laughed that one off and hoped that the subject
would go away. i
had never THOUGHT of hormone treatments before -- and then i thought
about the
pictures that Mistress Sandy had shown me of Her feminized husband.

********

Yesterday was Friday and after my bath and shave i meandered next door
dressed in my
pink panties, my flowery bra, and my male outerwear. i was met at the
door by Miss
Becky who greeted me by grabbing at my crotch to make sure there were
panties under
my slacks. But more than grab, She kissed me full on the mouth, forcing
my lips open
while She gave my mouth a tongue-bath.

Mistress Sandy came in to see us carressing and asked, =93how did your
shopping trip go
yesterday?=94

i stumbled a bit and mumbled that =93i didn=92t know=94 when She =
interrupted me
and ordered
me to strip down to my female attire. i slipped out of my male clothing
and stood there in
my panties and bra and She asked me to =93go on with my story!=94

i immediately began making some sort of lame excuse when She confronted
me with the
fact that She had been to Penny=92s and had talked with my saleslady =
only
to find i had not
been there. =93Why?=94, She demanded to know. i told Her that =93i =
just can=92t
DO that kind of
thing -- and what=92s more, i WON=92T do that kind of thing!=94 =
That=92s when
matters became
a little roudy.

She had a riding crop in Her hand and began beating the hell out of me.
i was told not to
move, but to bend over with my ass high in the air so that She could
properly punish me.
i don=92t know why i did it, but i received well over 50 smacks with Her
riding crop. i was
in a lot of pain and was begging for mercy when Miss Becky came to my
aid.

She begged Her mother to give Her a try at convincing me to do things =
Her
way.
Mistress Sandy looked at me with a cruel sneer and hit me in the face.
=93You had better
listen to my daughter. I expect you to do only what i demand -- even if
that means going
to the store bare-ass nakekd.=94 She went on and on, and finally left =
me
in the room alone
with Miss Becky.

Miss Becky came close and began to gently carress my pantied rear which
was quite a
sight with welts and bruises. =93My mother only wants you to have =
fun!=94,
She told me.
Why don=92t you just do what She asks you to?=94

=93i just CAN=92T,=94 i told Her. She said She understood and began to =
get
intimate with me
again. Her fingers began to toy with my nipples as Her mouth closed in
on mine. Her
free hand massaged my now hard cock through my panties and soon She had
me hotter
than a bonfire.

(Get Next Article Segment)

-------------------------------------------------------------------------=
--
[Previous] [Next] [Hitlist] [Get Thread] [Author Profile]
[Post] [Post] [Reply]
-------------------------------------------------------------------------=
--
Home Power Search Post to Usenet Ask DN Wizard Help

Why use DN? | Advertising Info | New Features! | Policy
Stuff
Copyright =A9 1996 Deja News, Inc. All rights reserved.

------=_NextPart_000_01BC419C.5ACB2E60
Content-Type: application/octet-stream; name="michelle5a.txt"
Content-Transfer-Encoding: quoted-printable
Content-Description: michelle5a.txt (Text Document)
Content-Disposition: attachment; filename="michelle5a.txt"

[Previous] [Next] [Hitlist] [Get Thread] [Author Profile]
[Post] [Post] [Reply]
-------------------------------------------------------------------------=
--

Article 46 of 967

Subject: REPOST: michelle's story #5
From: michelle <pattee@mail.ohio.net>
Date: 1996/11/11
Message-Id: <328796F7.5980@mail.ohio.net>

Article Segment 2 of 2
(Get Previous Segment)
(Get All 2 Segments)

She asked me in between kisses if Her friend could come in and join in
the fun. i was so
turned on and hot that i would have agreed to anything. Miss Becky was
certainly the
best part of this whole twisted arrangement -- and was She ever sexy. i
don=92t know how
She disrobed, but all i know is that She was now wearing only the =
laciest
pair of panties
i=92ve ever seen. Her pussy was shaved clean and Her perky nipples were
aching to be
kissed and suckled. i was in heaven.

i noticed that suddenly there was another set of hands playing with me.
my panties were
lowered and a head with a lovely mane of hair lowered itself to my cock.
She took my
hard cock deep into Her mouth while Miss Becky continued to tease every
erotic part of
my body. Every time i was near to cumming, the lovely woman on my cock
would ease
up. i was begging for relief, promising to do anything if only She =
would
let me cum.

=93Anything?=94, asked Miss Becky coyly. i begged Her to bring me off =
and
again promised
that i would do anything She or Her mother would make me do. The new
lady let go of
my cock and began to disrobe. Her tits were large, but her figure was
nothing to compare
with Miss Becky=92s. She did have curves, but not like most sexy women.
Soon this new
lady was down to nothing but her panties. She turned her back to me and
slowly slithered
out of her panties wiggling her smooth ass. Miss Becky began to nibble
my cock and
pushed me on my back while the new lady came close. i looked up and saw
a large cock,
hard and shiny coming toward my face. =93It=92s time you met my =
daddy!=94,
said Miss Becky.
Her dad straddled my chest, pinning me down while Miss Becky continued =
to
fondle my
now half-limp cock.

Mistress Sandy=92s voice all of a sudden stole my attention. =93It=92s =
time to
take the next step,
michelle. you KNOW you want to do it. Just look at that cock -- feel =
it
against your lips
-- feel how smooth it feels on your cheeks -- you KNOW you want it,
michelle. you=92re
my little cocksucker, aren=92t you? =93 Her voice combined with Miss =
Becky=92s
arousing
attention was hypnotic in its affect. i had to do as She commanded. i
opened my lips,
and began to take my first taste of cock.

=93Suck it -- that=92s right! lick the end, my dear. you=92re a =
cocksucker
now, michelle. MY
cocksucker. i=92ve turned you into a fag -- and now you=92re on your =
way to
becoming my
new shemale slut! Go on, cocksucker, make my husband cum!=94 i was mad
with desire
and was trying anything to make him cum deep inside my mouth. He did.

**********

Mistress Sandy allowed me to fuck Her daughter. Everything has been
taped, including
my cocksucking session with Her former sissy husband. On Monday, i will
be going on a
shopping trip WITH Mistress Sandy and Miss Becky. And, oh yeah! They
gave me my
first vitamins!

michelle

-------------------------------------------------------------------------=
--
[Previous] [Next] [Hitlist] [Get Thread] [Author Profile]
[Post] [Post] [Reply]
-------------------------------------------------------------------------=
--
Home Power Search Post to Usenet Ask DN Wizard Help

Why use DN? | Advertising Info | New Features! | Policy
Stuff
Copyright =A9 1996 Deja News, Inc. All rights reserved.

------=_NextPart_000_01BC419C.5ACB2E60
Content-Type: application/octet-stream; name="michelle6.txt"
Content-Transfer-Encoding: quoted-printable
Content-Description: michelle6.txt (Text Document)
Content-Disposition: attachment; filename="michelle6.txt"

[Previous] [Next] [Hitlist] [Get Thread] [Author Profile]
[Post] [Post] [Reply]
-------------------------------------------------------------------------=
--

Article 32 of 967

Subject: michelle's story #6
From: michelle <pattee@mail.ohio.net>
Date: 1996/11/11
Message-Id: <32875167.3091@mail.ohio.net>

Article Segment 2 of 2
(Get Previous Segment)
(Get All 2 Segments)

daddy forced her tongue into my mouth and began grinding her cock into =
my
stomach. It grew -- and while he played with my nipples my resistance
simply melted away. Mistress Sandy began telling us what to do.
"michelle, take your panties down so daddy can get a better look at your
pussy!", She said. i foundf myself lowering my panties and soon we were
in a 69 position each satisfying the other.

"daddy, it's time to show michelle what every girl needs to learn," said
Mistress. With that, i was led to the bed, my wrists were tied to the
corners with me laying on my stomach. daddy placed a pillow under me =
and
i felt my ass being lubricated. i knew what was happening, and i knew
also that i was powerless to stop it.

daddy was gentle, but the first entry hurt like hell. Soon he was
pounding away at my new pussy, while Mistress continued Her chant of =
what
a little cocksucking slut i had become. he came in my ass while i cried
in pain. "you'll never be a man again," said Mistress.

With the several hours over, Mistress Sandy gave me some pills to take
that night, reminded me to be at Her house at 8:00 sharp in the morning,
and sent me back to my Wife -- all made up and this time "skirted". She
kept my pants, filled out my bra with water filled condoms, put a sheer
blouse on me with a matching mini-skirt. i was still wearing my male
shoes so i made quite the sight.

As soon as i walked out the door, Mistress called my Wife and told Her i
needed help at the door. As soon as i was about to open the door,
(hoping my wife would be somewhere else in the house), it opened and my
Wife just stared at me opened mouthed. "Get the hell OUT of here", She
yelled at me, slamming the door. i pleaded with Her through the door to
let me in. She didn't. So i went back to Mistress's house -- but She
too would not open up for me. "Tomorrow morning at 8:00, dear", She
yelled.

i was in a mess with no place to sleep, no keys for any car since my
pants were still in my Mistress's house, and it was cold. "you can come
home with me," a voice said behind me. i turned to see daddy standing
there smiling at me. i had no choice. As i sat down in his car, my
skirt climbed up revealing a peek of my panties. "We're going to have
such fun," he said -- i've got so much to teach you."

michelle

-------------------------------------------------------------------------=
--
[Previous] [Next] [Hitlist] [Get Thread] [Author Profile]
[Post] [Post] [Reply]
-------------------------------------------------------------------------=
--
Home Power Search Post to Usenet Ask DN Wizard Help

Why use DN? | Advertising Info | New Features! | Policy
Stuff
Copyright =A9 1996 Deja News, Inc. All rights reserved.

------=_NextPart_000_01BC419C.5ACB2E60
Content-Type: application/octet-stream; name="michelle6a.txt"
Content-Transfer-Encoding: quoted-printable
Content-Description: michelle6a.txt (Text Document)
Content-Disposition: attachment; filename="michelle6a.txt"

[Previous] [Next] [Hitlist] [Get Thread] [Author Profile]
[Post] [Post] [Reply]
-------------------------------------------------------------------------=
--

Article 131 of 967

Subject: michelle's story #6
From: michelle <pattee@mail.ohio.net>
Date: 1996/11/11
Message-Id: <3287517D.5CD@mail.ohio.net>
Distribution: world
Content-Type: text/plain; charset=3Dus-Ascii
Organization: Microserve Information Systems (800)-380-INET
Mime-Version: 1.0
Newsgroups: alt.sex.femdom
X-Mailer: Mozilla 2.0 (Win95; I; 16bit)
Article Segment 1 of 2
(Get All 2 Segments)

my Wife asked me what was wrong. i guess i had been moping most of the
day because of what Miss Becky made me do with "daddy". Mistress Sandy
had forcefully feminized Her husband some time ago after he had stepped
out on their marriage. Through chemicals and psychological training She
had succcessful turned him into a shemale slut and then She threw him =
out
of the house. As a final gesture of humiliation, She had him retain the
name, "daddy". i met daddy last Friday -- intimately so. i got to =
taste
his cock and cum and he had a ball with mine. The only good thing about
our last meeting was that Mistress Sandy allowed me to fuck Her =
daughter.
While i was still in a dizzy state of mind, they fed me my first
vitamins and sent me on my way back to my wife next doof.

No wonder my Wife wonders if something's wrong. "i'm just preoccupied,
dear," i told Her. She tells me that She's worried and that it's a good
thing i've got my doctor appointment this week. O my God! i forgot!
How can i go to our lady doctor with my legs and body shaved, wearing
panties (since that is all i now owned), and my toenails painted. Now
i've got THAT to worry about.

********

Mistress Sandy called my house and asked my Wife if She could borrow me
for a few hours this afternoon (it's Sunday). my Wife was only too =
happy
to comply, thinking it would take whatever was bothering me off my mind.
"Sandy told me to make sure you wear the proper clothes, whatever that
means!", She yelled at me from across the house.

i meekly showed up at my Mistress's House in my dainties. "Open wide",
She said as i received my daily dosage of vitamins.

"Please, Mistress, You can't do this to me," i begged. "my Wife will
LEAVE me if i begin taking these pills. She's warned me about hormones.
This is going too far."

Mistress Sandy sneered at me. "you no longer HAVE a wife," She said.
"you belong only to Me now -- to me and my daughter. Besides, what =
would
a shemale slut like you want with a wife? you're going to have a body
that needs to belong to a real MAN! I hate to tell you this, michelle,
but until i divorce you, you belong to ME now."

i was trapped! If i told my wife what was happening now, She would =
leave
me. If i DIDN'T tell Her, i would still lose Her. i was being slowly
transformed by my next door neighbor and Her vixon of a daughter -- i =
had
already become a cocksucker, like they had promised -- and there was no
way to turn back the clock.

For the next hour Mistress Sandy worked in earnest to get me ready for
Monday's shopping trip. She spent a lot of time on my hair and face,
thinning my eyebrows to a most feminine line. my hair was cut and set
into a very unisex style -- and then She put some makeup on my face.
"You will have a hard time removing that", She said. "It's a permenant
type of makeup -- try to explain THAT to your former wife!"

i jumped up and got a towel to try and wipe it off, but it stayed put.
Some smeared a bit and, after i recovered from the several slaps She =
gave
me, She repaired the damage. "Let's see if my little sissy can put Her
new lips to good use," She said. "O daddy! Would you come in here?"

daddy came in, wearing only a sheer babydoll nightie with no panties.
her huge breasts, must have been 40 DD, bounced playfully as she came
into the room. her legs were lovely and so smooth. her face, while it
wasn't the most feminine, was not bad looking. "Do i get to play with
michelle somemore?", daddy asked.

daddy came to me and straddled my lap, while beginning to play with my
nipples. i don't know why they have to be the most sensitive part of =
me.
"Pretty soon you'll have big titties just like me," said daddy. "And
just like me, pretty soon you'll just love playing all the games that
your new Mistress will have you playing."

(Get Next Article Segment)

-------------------------------------------------------------------------=
--
[Previous] [Next] [Hitlist] [Get Thread] [Author Profile]
[Post] [Post] [Reply]
-------------------------------------------------------------------------=
--
Home Power Search Post to Usenet Ask DN Wizard Help

Why use DN? | Advertising Info | New Features! | Policy
Stuff
Copyright =A9 1996 Deja News, Inc. All rights reserved.

------=_NextPart_000_01BC419C.5ACB2E60
Content-Type: application/octet-stream; name="michelle7.txt"
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit
Content-Description: michelle7.txt (Text Document)
Content-Disposition: attachment; filename="michelle7.txt"

Subject: michelle #7
Date: ***, 12 Nov 1996 07:57:03 -0800
From: michelle <pattee@mail.ohio.net>
Organization: Microserve Information Systems (800)-380-INET
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.tg

michelle’s story #7

i spent the night with daddy, Mistress Sandy’s ex-husband whom She turned
into a
shemale who must now live off the street. After femininzing me and
humiliating me
Mistress Sandy finally sent me home, but only after calling my wife to
make sure She
would be meeting me at the door. When my wife saw me fully made up
wearing a sheer
blouse and mini skirt, She threw me out. i begged Mistress to let me
back in, but She
refused. daddy, who had fucked my ass just a little while before was
only too happy to
take me to his house.

his apartment is in the seedy side of town where daddy gets his work. he
works the little
dirty bars and 25 cent peek shows to make a living. On good days he may
pull in $100,
but most of the time it’s less than $25.

Making sure that i took my vitamins before i went to bed, daddy told me
that i could
shack up with him for awhile and that he would be happy to show me the
ropes. Maybe if
the two of us worked together we our eek out a better living. Clothing
and lingerie, after
all, cost money. i cried myself to sleep on a smelly mattress sleeping
next to daddy. he
let me wear one of his prettier nighties.

**********

i called my wife to see if She would listen to some reasoning and let me
back home. She
told me that Mistress Sandy had brought Her some tapes to view -- tapes
of me
masturbating into my panties, of me screwing Miss Becky, and of me giving
a blow job to
daddy and then being fucked in the ass by daddy. She demanded a divorce
and hung up
the phone.

**********

Miss Becky knocked on daddy’s door and gave him a big hug. She came up
to me and,
giving me a big kiss, told me that i should look better than i did if i
wanted to go
shopping with Her and Mother. So She took me back to daddy’s closet and
selected a
little sundress for me to put on over my panties and bra. i wore a
garter and stockings,
and my feet were cramped into a pair of daddy’s high heels. Miss Becky
made up my
face in a real slutty fashion with bright red lipstick, dark mascara and
eye makeup. She
took my hand helping me to balance in my new shoes and shooed me out the
door.

We met Mistress at the mall where the first stop was to the beauty shop
to get a workover.
i had my legs waxed (did that hurt!), my hair colored and permed, new
nails put on, and
my face done up professionally (to look like a whore!). i next went to
get my ears triple
pierced -- and then we were off to get me my first female wardrobe. i
had to try
everything on at the store, including a bathing suit and exercise
leotards. Mistress spent
well over $500 on me, telling me that this was a gift for all the trouble
She got me into.

“I told you that i was going to turn you into my newest shemale slut,”
Mistress told me,
“and I have. Look at you! you look more female than male -- you’re on a
strict schedule
of female hormones -- you’ve become a cocksucker and you’ve taken it up
your ass --
you’ve been kicked out of your house by your wife who’s running to
divorce you -- and
you’re living with a shemale who pimps herself off the streets for a
living.”

“You MADE me that way,” i told Mistress. “If it wasn’t for Your daughter
seducing me
into making love with Her -- being u******e and all -- i wouldn’t be in
this mess.”

“u******e?”, piped Miss Becky. “You thought i was u******e? Mommy,
should we
invite the fag to my 20th birthday party next week? Maybe we could dress
him up nice
and pretty and make him be the maid for our party!”

i couldn’t believe what i had heard. i had been lurred and trapped by
two cunning and
beautiful women. “Why me?”, i asked them?

“Because you were so vulnerable,” Mistress Sandy replied. “When i found
out you wore
women’s clothing -- O yes!, I’ve seen you through the window of your home
as you
stared out wearing your wife’s lingerie! I decided that you would be one
of my finest
victims!”

“But what am i to do? What’s going to become of me?”, i asked.

“I told you that you would become a shemale, and that you will. Hormones
are only the
beginning. By year’s end you will have breast implants and augmentation
surgery to
make you unmistakeably female -- other than your cock, mind you. you
will live with
daddy for the next six months and he will teach you how to be a proper
slut. You will
learn to suck cock and worship cock until it becomes second nature to
you. i will make
you the perfect shemale whore -- and then when you are properly trained,
i will see you.”

“Sell me?”

“Yes, my dear! Unless you want to walk away from us right now!”

Where could i go? i had no place to live -- i was dressed like a slutty
whore with no other
clothing to wear. i had no money, and my self-confidence had been
completely shattered.
i looked in a mirror on the wall -- my tears were making my mascara run.
Miss Becky
came over, kissed my cheek and took my hand, and i followed Her to my new
life.

Why didn’t someone help me when i asked? It only took two weeks to turn
a man into a
whore.

michelle

------=_NextPart_000_01BC419C.5ACB2E60
Content-Type: application/octet-stream; name="michelle7.txt"
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit
Content-Description: michelle7.txt (Text Document)
Content-Disposition: attachment; filename="michelle7.txt"

Subject: michelle #7
Date: ***, 12 Nov 1996 07:57:03 -0800
From: michelle <pattee@mail.ohio.net>
Organization: Microserve Information Systems (800)-380-INET
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.tg

michelle’s story #7

i spent the night with daddy, Mistress Sandy’s ex-husband whom She turned
into a
shemale who must now live off the street. After femininzing me and
humiliating me
Mistress Sandy finally sent me home, but only after calling my wife to
make sure She
would be meeting me at the door. When my wife saw me fully made up
wearing a sheer
blouse and mini skirt, She threw me out. i begged Mistress to let me
back in, but She
refused. daddy, who had fucked my ass just a little while before was
only too happy to
take me to his house.

his apartment is in the seedy side of town where daddy gets his work. he
works the little
dirty bars and 25 cent peek shows to make a living. On good days he may
pull in $100,
but most of the time it’s less than $25.

Making sure that i took my vitamins before i went to bed, daddy told me
that i could
shack up with him for awhile and that he would be happy to show me the
ropes. Maybe if
the two of us worked together we our eek out a better living. Clothing
and lingerie, after
all, cost money. i cried myself to sleep on a smelly mattress sleeping
next to daddy. he
let me wear one of his prettier nighties.

**********

i called my wife to see if She would listen to some reasoning and let me
back home. She
told me that Mistress Sandy had brought Her some tapes to view -- tapes
of me
masturbating into my panties, of me screwing Miss Becky, and of me giving
a blow job to
daddy and then being fucked in the ass by daddy. She demanded a divorce
and hung up
the phone.

**********

Miss Becky knocked on daddy’s door and gave him a big hug. She came up
to me and,
giving me a big kiss, told me that i should look better than i did if i
wanted to go
shopping with Her and Mother. So She took me back to daddy’s closet and
selected a
little sundress for me to put on over my panties and bra. i wore a
garter and stockings,
and my feet were cramped into a pair of daddy’s high heels. Miss Becky
made up my
face in a real slutty fashion with bright red lipstick, dark mascara and
eye makeup. She
took my hand helping me to balance in my new shoes and shooed me out the
door.

We met Mistress at the mall where the first stop was to the beauty shop
to get a workover.
i had my legs waxed (did that hurt!), my hair colored and permed, new
nails put on, and
my face done up professionally (to look like a whore!). i next went to
get my ears triple
pierced -- and then we were off to get me my first female wardrobe. i
had to try
everything on at the store, including a bathing suit and exercise
leotards. Mistress spent
well over $500 on me, telling me that this was a gift for all the trouble
She got me into.

“I told you that i was going to turn you into my newest shemale slut,”
Mistress told me,
“and I have. Look at you! you look more female than male -- you’re on a
strict schedule
of female hormones -- you’ve become a cocksucker and you’ve taken it up
your ass --
you’ve been kicked out of your house by your wife who’s running to
divorce you -- and
you’re living with a shemale who pimps herself off the streets for a
living.”

“You MADE me that way,” i told Mistress. “If it wasn’t for Your daughter
seducing me
into making love with Her -- being u******e and all -- i wouldn’t be in
this mess.”

“u******e?”, piped Miss Becky. “You thought i was u******e? Mommy,
should we
invite the fag to my 20th birthday party next week? Maybe we could dress
him up nice
and pretty and make him be the maid for our party!”

i couldn’t believe what i had heard. i had been lurred and trapped by
two cunning and
beautiful women. “Why me?”, i asked them?

“Because you were so vulnerable,” Mistress Sandy replied. “When i found
out you wore
women’s clothing -- O yes!, I’ve seen you through the window of your home
as you
stared out wearing your wife’s lingerie! I decided that you would be one
of my finest
victims!”

“But what am i to do? What’s going to become of me?”, i asked.

“I told you that you would become a shemale, and that you will. Hormones
are only the
beginning. By year’s end you will have breast implants and augmentation
surgery to
make you unmistakeably female -- other than your cock, mind you. you
will live with
daddy for the next six months and he will teach you how to be a proper
slut. You will
learn to suck cock and worship cock until it becomes second nature to
you. i will make
you the perfect shemale whore -- and then when you are properly trained,
i will see you.”

“Sell me?”

“Yes, my dear! Unless you want to walk away from us right now!”

Where could i go? i had no place to live -- i was dressed like a slutty
whore with no other
clothing to wear. i had no money, and my self-confidence had been
completely shattered.
i looked in a mirror on the wall -- my tears were making my mascara run.
Miss Becky
came over, kissed my cheek and took my hand, and i followed Her to my new
life.

Why didn’t someone help me when i asked? It only took two weeks to turn
a man into a
whore.

michelle

------=_NextPart_000_01BC419C.5ACB2E60--

http://www.*****.org/files/Collections/Old_Joe%27s_Collection/TG/Femdom/Michelle%20-%20Can%20She%20Make%20Me%20Gay.txt



































From impala@erols.com Sat Apr 05 08:36:08 1997
Path: news1*****ave.net!news-dc-10.sprintlink.net!news-pull.sprintlink.net!news-peer.sprintlink.net!howland.erols.net!feed1.news.erols.com!news
From: "Impala" <impala@erols.com>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.tg
Subject: REPOST MOAN
Date: 5 Apr 1997 13:36:08 GMT
Organization: Erol's Internet Services
Lines: 3129
Message-ID: <01bc41c6$e2cdcf00$1d0960cf@impala.erols.com>
NNTP-Posting-Host: lxp-as1s29.erols.com
Mime-Version: 1.0
Content-Type: multipart/mixed; boundary="----=_NextPart_000_01BC419C.F9F7C700"
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit
X-Received-On: 5 Apr 1997 13:36:08 GMT
X-Newsreader: Microsoft Internet News 4.70.1155

This is a multi-part message in MIME format.

------=_NextPart_000_01BC419C.F9F7C700
Content-Type: text/plain; charset=ISO-8859-1
Content-Transfer-Encoding: quoted-printable


------=_NextPart_000_01BC419C.F9F7C700
Content-Type: application/octet-stream; name="moam.txt"
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit
Content-Description: moam.txt (Text Document)
Content-Disposition: attachment; filename="moam.txt"








Making of a Mistress



WARNING

This story contains sex among consenting people not generally
considered to be legal age. See "About Making of a Mistress" for
the reasons why. If this offends you, stop reading now. The
author suggest that you view this totally as a fantasy, and use
it only in consensual adult role playing.

This article also contains a strong female domination theme. If
this offends you, you are reading the wrong newsgroup.

-= Mule =-

Making of a Mistress
Preface

Is a dominatrix born or made? Read on and decide.

Contents

Chapter 1 - Susan - Susan and Judy's early sexual experiences
Chapter 2 - Karen - Ken's early sexual experience
Chapter 3 - Susan Again - Susan and Ken's first session
Chapter 4 - Susan Gains Control - Susan gains sexual dominance
Chapter 5 - A Girl and her Toys - Susan learns how to use toys
Chapter 6 - A Girl's Best Friend - Susan learns more toys
Chapter 7 - Judy - Judy returns
Chapter 8 - Two Girls and a Boy - Susan/Judy/Ken's 1st session
Chapter 9 - Four Girls and a Boy - Helen and her k** sister join
Chapter 10 - Kathy - Girls finally get their sexual satisfaction
Chapter 11 - The Girl's Club - high-school girl-dom club
Chapter 12 - The Women's Club - Adult woman-dom club
Chapter 13 - Marital Assistance - Happy ending

-=o=-

I am writing this series of stories for the enjoyment of Helen,
my wife/mistress. I suppose I ought to tell you the history
before I get into the fiction.

It all started when I was ***********. It was raining and I was
at the house of my mother's friend across town while my mother
was at a doctor's appointment. I never had much to do with Susan,
the 6-year-old girl who lived there. I saw her on the rare
occasions of my mother's visits, but these visits were usually
short, and I never played much with her. On this occasion, Susan
was visited by her 13-year old cousin, Judy.

Susan's mom got called away to rescue her husband whose car had
broken down. As soon as she left, Judy suggested that we play
some games. Eventually, it evolved into "show me yours and I'll
show you mine" between Susan and I. Somehow, Susan kept her
clothes on, and so did Judy. I was only one who wound up naked.

Judy suggested playing "dress up" with me using some of her old
clothes, and we played a few games when I didn't have my clothes
on, including one where we bounced a rubber ball around. The
girls rubbed the ball against my penis in the course of play, and
it felt good.

I got dressed, and eventually, the day ended. Susan's mom came
home, I went home. Judy went home, and I hardly ever saw Susan
again.

All of this would have been just another c***dhood memory, one
that is not all that uncommon. Except ... the experience grew
within me. I started to have special feelings every time I though
about it. I liked being told what to do by a girl, enjoyed
playing with myself using the rubber ball, and enjoyed being
dressed like a girl.

As I reached puberty, I learned how to masturbate myself with a
rubber ball, and built up a whole fantasy world around the
incident. I recorded these fantasies in writing.

I should have destroyed these stories when I got married, but I
didn't, and my wife found them. She made me explain them to her,
and started to exploit my submissive side. She made me get rid of
all the stories that didn't feature the girls being in charge and
had me fill in the remaining stories.

I am now ready for publication. My mistress has me sit down at
the computer several times a week for an hour to work on the
stories. If I have writer's block, she has the cure. She makes me
read the stories and pieces I already have and she denies me
relief.

I can go a day or two without relief before I start having lurid
and vivid sexual dreams. About once a month, mistress kicks me
out of bed at 3 AM to start recording them.

The stories are fiction, but they are based on some elements of
truth. Any similarities between the girls in the story and girls
in my life, and the boy in the story and myself is quite
intentional. Mistress Helen, sees herself in several of the
characters and has made some suggestions on how these characters
should act.

I knew how to do some of the things described in the story before
meeting my mistress, and with her help and experimentation, I
learned how to do more. We tested almost all of the techniques
described in the stories and use many of them to this day.

So, without further ado:

-=o=-

Making of a Mistress

Pornography is usually produced by men for men. Quite often books
that are sexually explicit are derogatory to females. This is not
one of those stories. This is a series of stories in which the
females are on top. It features female domination as seen through
the eyes of a young woman. We follow her story as it progresses
from an essentially innocent game of "show me yours and I'll show
you mine" to her becoming a quite accomplished dominatrix.

Girls usually have the upper hand earlier in life until society
starts conditioning them for more traditional roles. They develop
better physical skills (not to mention physical size and
strength) at an earlier age than boys. They reach a level of
mental maturity faster, than their male counterparts and have
more highly developed social skills at a much earlier age. They
quickly learn to cooperate with other members of their sex, and
more readily form alliances against boys.

The earlier school grades reinforce these feminine values:
teachers value social skills, being quiet and obedient in class,
playing nice with others, cooperation instead of competition, and
using small motor skill on projects instead of large muscle
groups on the ball field. It isn't until external factors put
emphasis on sports and technology -- two fields where females are
discouraged from participating -- that they lose the edge. At
this point, they are still to young to defend themselves against
it.

However, during her middle c***dhood years (between about six and
twelve), a girl is, in most measures, superior to her male peers.
Parents are quick to jump to the conclusion that the c***d's
world is as male dominated as the adult world, and therefore,
adults conclude that it must be the boy who is the instigator of
sex games among c***dren. This is not always the case.

Girls are more clannish than boys and their alliances spread
across a wider age group. It is not unlikely to find an older
girl mentoring her younger sister in a number of the feminine
arts including sex.

Whether she discovers it as a result of peer play, or as a result
of being shown by an older girl, nearly every girl knows what a
penis looks like by the time she starts grade school. For most
girls, looking isn't enough; they also experiment with handling
and playing with a penis as well.

Boys, on the other hand, find out about the "mysteries" of sex at
a later age. Almost all find out on a "hit or miss" basis, or get
garbled information through their peer group. By the time a boy
reaches junior high he is left to masturbate over pictures in
magazines. Meanwhile, his "sisters" had handled the real thing
about half a decade before.

This is a story of Susan and her friends, and how they use
ordinary, every day rubber items to masturbate and dominate boys.
However, the story has something for people of all walks of life.

This story is for men who like women since it provides techniques
that any male can appreciate and enjoy. Even if the man doesn't
have a rubber fetish, he'll find the variety of sexual
stimulations exciting. If the man is a rubber lover, then he will
really enjoy the attention given to his cock. The women in their
lives will find these games non-threatening and possibly pleasing
as well.

This story is for men without partners. Most of the techniques
described can be performed by one's self on one's self although
some may require modification. It is generally more fun to have
somebody else perform the actual masturbation, but the solitary
man can have hours of fun by himself.

This story is for boys. Young men don't have access to a frequent
sexual partner. Their sex drive is high, and they need a safe and
pleasurable way for them to explore their own bodies. As
mentioned above, boys can learn how to perform these acts on
themselves. Any boy lucky enough to have an older (or younger)
sister, or other female relative, or maybe even a trusting girl
neighbor, can teach her the techniques easily. Younger girls are
generally more willing to experiment, and accept such an offer.

This story is for men who prefer men. Although the story depicts
a young girl and her girlfriends in charge, there is no reason
that the controlling end of the rubber must be female.

This story is for women who like men. It provides them with a
means for providing sexual gratification to their mates when
conventional methods are not appealing or desired. It describes
to them alternate means to induce sexual excitement (and in some
cases, sexual control) in their partners.

But mostly, it is for girls. Young girls have the interest and
the enthusiasm for play. For some reason, an 8-year-old female is
more willing to take control over sexual experimentation than a
girl twice her age. A young girl quickly learns that boys have
something she doesn't, and this gives rise to "penis envy."
Providing her with a doll that is anatomically correct merely
increases the anxiety. This story provides her with a means to
reduce her penis envy by learning penis control.

As she gets older, a girl is still caught up with the
realization, that the external society favors males. She needs a
way to feel that she can compete, and have control over some
things in her life. Penis control provides some of this relief.
It is safe, spontaneous, and it can be done quickly and privately
or as a planned activity in a group. It requires no special
equipment. Every girl owns a pair of sneakers, and it is not at
all unreasonable for her to have a rubber ball or two, along with
a bathing cap.

This story depicts scenes of group sex play (many girls to a
boy). Studies indicate that this is often the case, and that it
is more common for two (or more) girls to play with a boy than a
single girl alone. Such play does not always diminish as the
girls get older, as many a sorority stunt will prove. The girl
who is lucky enough to have a boy will invariably share him with
her girlfriends. As the "owner" of the boy, she earns a certain
amount of esteem. Other girls will revere her as a teacher. She
will teach them how not to fear men.

Mistress Helen and I hope you enjoy the stories. Use them in good
health in your role playing.


Making of a Mistress
Chapter 2
KAREN

Susan's luck changed for the better about 3 months prior to her
*************. That was when her cousin, Ken, moved in with her
and her mother. Ken was 15, good looking, and from the way his
jeans fit, she could see that he was well hung. Just having a
male in the house was exciting enough, and getting a view of his
cock was a challenge she had to accept.

She figured that since Ken and she shared the basement, (he in
his bedroom, Susan right next door), that the best place to do
this was in the downstairs bathroom. She arranged the blinds so
she could look in without being noticed. The bushes which
provided her the security for most of her previous sexual
conquests kept her from being seen from the street, and kept her
shadow from showing up against the window. Every time Ken went to
the bathroom, She would get to her windowside seat as fast as her
sneakers would take her.

The unfortunate part of the arrangement was that the toilet was
on the far wall, and most of the time, she only got a view of his
back as he stood there urinating. The few frontal views she did
get did little to relax her. Even from the partial views she got,
she could see that it was the largest, most beautiful male sex
organ she had ever seen. She had to get my hands on it somehow.

Things became worse (or better) once summer vacation began. Ken
would come home from baseball practice and take a shower in the
afternoon when she had a chance to watch. She couldn't see him in
the shower, but when he got out, she saw the whole show. As he
dried himself, she could see his partially erected cock sticking
out from her first view of male pubic hair. Not only was the
penis in great shape, but so was the rest of the body, especially
his rear end.

Every time she watched him, her excitement and eagerness grew.
Her hand would find itself under her shorts and in her wet
panties stroking herself. She was so frustrated by this point,
that she began a rather intensive program of playing with little
boys again. (If she couldn't have quality, she figured she'd go
for quantity).

It was while she was examining one of the **********s from down
the street in the garage that Ken caught her. He told the boy to
zip up, go home, and forget about the incident. He told Susan
that he wanted to see her in the kitchen.

When she got into the kitchen, Ken was already seated at the
table and he motioned her to sit opposite him. He immediately
calmed her greatest fears when, instead of the lecture she
expected, he told her that he wouldn't tell the boy's parents or
her mother. In fact, he seemed to be most understanding and said
that he thought it was very natural for girls to have an interest
in penises. As far as he was concerned, there was nothing wrong
with a girl wanting to do something about it. He also said that
***********s might be able to get away with it as a matter of
innocent curiosity, but girls Susan's age couldn't use that
excuse.

He realized that almost every girl knew what a penis looked like
by the time she was Susan's age, and asked her when she first
started playing with them. To Susan's surprise, she told him that
she was already a six year veteran! Susan left out the parts
about Judy and didn't tell him about her most recent voyeurism
involving him. She didn't have to, he knew! He explained that he
knew she was spying on him, which is why he gave her as much
opportunity to see his cock as he could arrange.

Before she could ask why, he explained. He was raised in a very
strict home where sex was never discussed, and he was taught to
think of his penis as a secret. His parents went through the most
elaborate arrangements to maintain modesty, and even his father
(when he still lived with him) didn't allow Ken to see his penis.

One summer, when he was ***********, his mother went overseas as
a personal secretary for her employer. Ken was to stay in the
employer's luxurious house to be taken care of by the house-
keeper, Mrs. Renford, who also lived there with her 6-year-old
daughter, Karen.

On the very first night, Ken found out that Mrs. Renford didn't
share his mother's view about nudity, at least male nudity. As he
was preparing for his bath, she came in to the bathroom along
with her daughter apparently to get a hair brush. He could tell
by the look on Karen's face that she had never seen a boy
undressed before. He remembered being quite embarrassed at the
moment, but later, as he lay in bed, the recollection of the
experience excited him enough to have an erection.

He decided to check out Karen's real interest, to see if she
really saw his penis by accident, or if it were a planned event.
The next morning, he worked up enough courage to offer to play a
game of "show me yours I'll show you mine" with her. Karen wasn't
willing to show herself to Ken, but she had no objection to Ken
exposing himself to her. The two of them went into the closet to
look at Ken's penis. The lighting was rather poor, so Karen had
to feel it rather than look at it. She seemed to be delighted and
giggled as she rolled it around in her fingers. Ken was getting
very excited at having his organ touched by someone else. For
some reason, the fact that the someone else didn't have a penis
of her own to play with excited him even more. Apparently, Mrs
Renford also heard the giggling and she caught them "red handed".
Mrs Renford's only comment was that they shouldn't be playing in
the closet, and they should come out where there was more light
and air.

Ken wasn't sure what to make of Mrs Renford's remarks. Perhaps
she was willing to let the c***dren play their game out in hopes
that it would bore them, and that they would eventually go onto
some other activity. However, she didn't offer any other activity
for them to do. In fact, she left them alone in Karen's room and
closed the door when she left. Karen found more and more things
to do with Ken's penis, and by lunch time, they had graduated to
playing "catch". Karen and Ken would sit on the floor facing each
other with legs spread out. Karen would roll a rubber ball
between Ken's legs. Ken discovered that if he rocked forward, he
could trap the ball under his erected penis. Sometimes, he would
rock early, and poke the ball back to Karen with the tip of his
cock, or rock far enough forward so the ball would roll up the
top of it and back down.

If Ken had doubts about Mrs Renford's intentions, they were soon
erased later that day when they went swimming in the indoor pool.
Mrs Renford and Karen were adequately dressed complete with swim
suits and bathing caps while Ken was required to go "skinny
dipping". After supper, Mrs Renford even took a hand (literally)
in Karen's experimenting. Karen was curious about erections, and
her mother was willing to demonstrate a few pointers using Ken.
She showed her daughter how to jerk him off. Ken was surprised at
how skillful she was, and wondered how she knew to keep on going
until he felt good although she had given him a hard on some time
ago. He didn't even know how to jerk off himself until she showed
him how to do it. His masturbation techniques were limited to
rubbing his penis against the mattress. He wasn't old enough at
the time to ejaculate, but that didn't stop him from jerking off
every chance he got. Although Karen didn't understand why he did
this act, she enjoyed watching him do it nonetheless.

Mrs Renford provided much more than tutoring for her daughter's
sex education benefit. She had uses for Ken, himself. Each night,
after she put Karen to bed, she would bring Ken into her room.
There, she would make him strip (if he weren't already naked, she
encouraged him to remain nude for the amusement of her daughter).
Ken didn't know what to do when he first felt her tongue in his
mouth, but he soon learned how to reciprocate. This, and her
rubbing his penis with her hand, got him going really fast. Mrs.
Renford would then take off her blouse and instructed him on how
she wanted him to kiss and suck her breasts. Finally, she would
slip off her skirt and panties leaving her clad only in a pair of
sneakers. She taught him how to eat her out, and kept him at it
for as long as she could stand it. Ken's reward came later when
she let him mount her. He had no trouble maintaining the rhythm
she wanted as she wrapped her legs around his body and used the
heels of her sneakers as spurs on his young butt to get him
going.

Ken enjoyed his activities with Mrs. Renford, but his real desire
rested with Karen. She had a real girlish enthusiasm for playing
games. Ken remarked that he found himself wishing he had the
nerve to ask other girls to play these games with him. Girls his
age would laugh at him (or so he thought), and the ***********s
he might talk into it could get him in trouble. He spent most of
the last 6 years dreaming about it, or locked in his room peeking
through the blinds at the girls skipping rope or playing other
games.

Making of a Mistress
Chapter 3
SUSAN AGAIN

Ken said that he was glad he caught Susan in an embarrassing
sexual situation. It confirmed her real orientation towards boys.
She was a "doer" rather than just a "looker". She wasn't
satisfied unless she could actually play with the real thing. He
commented that she needed a "safe" boy to play with. Susan didn't
need to be told that! She lamented that some girls were lucky,
they had younger brothers to experiment with. She had nobody. He
was quick to correct her. He said that she now had an older
"brother" to play with. He wanted to play with himself with Susan
watching since he started living in the house, but didn't know
how to bring up the subject. Now, he said, they had the perfect
arrangement.

Susan asked him when they could start, and he answered by
standing up and revealing his half erect cock sticking out of his
fly. Susan took him by the hand, and lead him downstairs where
she had him quickly erected to his full 7 inches. She made a
comment about how wise he was to take his penis out when he was
talking to her since there plainly wasn't enough room in his
pants for it. She suggested that he would probably be more
comfortable if he took them off.

Ken complied by getting completely undressed. This was a rare
treat for Susan since she usually didn't make her boys get
undressed due to the danger of having to do a quick coverup. At
most, she would have them pull down their pants and underwear,
although she usually worked through the boy's fly.

Susan enjoyed her close up view of Ken's body even more than
those she caught of him coming out of the shower. In addition to
a simply gorgeous cock, Ken's muscular frame accentuated his
maleness. His large chest tapered into a narrow waist pointing to
a triangle of pubic hair which nicely outlined his sexual organs.
>From the back, Susan noticed he had strong legs ending in very
cute buns.

Due to the late hour, and Susan's mother coming home from work,
they didn't have as much time to play as they desired. Susan
would have loved to have continued fingering him. She groped for
the words to ask him to do what she wanted to see most. Somehow
asking him, "Play with yourself," didn't seem to be the right
wording. Ken put her out of her embarrassment by asking her if
she wanted to see him "jerk off." She gulped a simple "yes," and
sat on the couch while Ken knelt in front of her and masturbated.

Susan felt so honored. She saw herself as a queen with her humble
slave kneeling before her offering her his greatest gift. Susan
watched as he approached orgasm. His already enlarged cock seemed
to grow even bigger and harder. It certainly got fatter and
redder. His breaths began to come in gasps, and his entire
essence seemed to be wrapped up in his one hand. She knew that
getting a boy to this point would make him extremely vulnerable,
and she wished she knew how to get that power. She had a tough
time deciding whether to watch the reaction on his face or what
was going on with his penis. Finally, with a groan, Ken let off
with numerous jets of creamy white come right at Susan's feet. It
was the most exciting moment of her young life.

She thought of Ken's masturbation, and the depositing his come at
her feet like a cat who brings his mistress a mouse as a present --
perversely pleasant, and the ultimate in flattery. As she sat
there looking at the pools of semen between her sneakers, Susan
knew that this was something every girl should see, and she
wanted more of it.

-=o=-

When Susan saw Ken (all of him) again on the following Monday,
she had a new proposal. She told him that since she was
satisfying his fantasy, he should consider satisfying hers. (As
if she weren't getting enough already). She told him that she had
an imaginary playmate, a younger sister, in fact. She would teach
her sister all the things a girl should know. (She didn't tell
Ken that she considered one of the jobs of a big sister is to
show her little sisters what boys looked like). She proposed that
if Ken would switch his role from big brother to little sister,
she would give his penis all the attention it deserved.

Ken agreed to this, and his training (or a Susan put it, his
"feminization program") began immediately. She decided to start
him off at the beginning. She treated him as her new-born baby
sister.

Getting some of the supplies she needed wasn't all that
difficult. A trip to the supermarket had her well stocked with
baby powder, baby oil, bottles, bibs, and just about everything
else she needed except diapers. Her mother had some old diapers
from when she was a baby, but they were way too small.

At first she used towels, but then decided to make her own
diapers on the sewing machine. The "pattern" was unbelievably
simple. She had a pink bonnet that fit well enough. (Homo sapiens
are born with disproportionately big heads, their bodies sort of
grow out under it as they mature). She also had a night shirt
left over from a couple of years ago on Ken, it made a nice
dressing gown.

After she diapered him, she fed him his bottle. Ken was always a
good milk drinker as any athelete should be. He sucked his bottle
(or "bot bot" as he later came to call it) hungrily. Ken actually
enjoyed the way she hugged him as she rubbed her hand on his back
and patted it to burp him.

As he usually did in the afternoon after he ate, Ken had some
very normal biological needs. Susan waited for him to wet and
dirty his diapers. Ken, of course, obliged.

The two of them would break out of role play enough for Ken to
walk to the bathroom for his cleanup and bath.

Susan gave him his bath, making sure that everything was clean.
Ken palyed his part well enough, splashing around, and getting
Susan wet. Finally, she had him lay down as she applied the baby
oil. She divided her time equally front and back gently working
one of her fingers into his anus as she rubbed the oil into his
cute buns. She wondered how much the average mom spent rubbing
oil on her son's penis. She was sure it wasn't the 15 or so
minutes she spent.

In the following weeks, Susan engaged Ken in all kinds of little
girl's games. He was taught how to play house, was the naked
guest of honor at a tea party, and soon learned the names of all
of Susan's dolls. Of course, Susan took time out often during the
play to have Ken jerk off for her. Susan had no problem
commanding him to do so after the first day.

One of the most memorable points during Ken's training was the
day she and Ken played "dress up". They found a large selection
of women's clothes in the garage, and it provided Susan with
hours of fun. She was thoroughly amused watching Ken struggling
into a girdle and bra. Most of the clothes simply weren't built
for his physique. There was quite a noticeable bulge in front.
Susan learned quickly that bikini panties were out of the
question. Even the large, full-sized panties could barely contain
Ken's erected cock. Short shorts were totally inadequate as were
mini skirts. No matter how he tried to adjust them, his penis
stuck out somewhere.

Susan did find one outfit for him that fit rather well. She would
have preferred extremely feminine underwear, but had to settle
for plain while nylon panties (she found a pair of extra large to
hold his penis), and panty hose. She selected a grey and red
plaid, calf length skirt (on Ken it was just below the knee), and
a silk blouse with plenty of lace. She did up the wig they found
into a hair style that went along with Ken's features nicely. She
gave up on trying to teach him how to use makeup, so she wound up
applying it herself. She was extremely satisfied with the
results. Ken looked very pretty. She was disappointed that she
couldn't find any shoes to fit him. It would have been a scream
to see him tottering around in high heels.

Susan decided that classic fashion was not what she wanted in a
look for Ken. If he were to be a ***********, then he should look
like one. The wig was redone in pig tails, the frilly blouse was
turned in for a plain light blue sleeveless one, and the skirt
replaced with a denim mini skirt matching the blouse. She added
some frilly tennis panties that did nothing to hide his sex
organs. They barely kept in his testicles, and helped keep his
penis standing straight up. They did accent his rear end nicely.
The skirt was so short that it merely d****d down either side of
his penis.

Susan later supplemented the outfit with pom-pom socklettes and
light blue sneakers bought from a large women's shop. It was
exactly what she wanted; quite sporty yet very feminine. It gave
her a good view of his ass and penis (she loved to watch the way
it bounced up and down when he danced for her or played hop
scotch or jumprope), and he didn't even have to drop a stitch for
her when he masturbated so they could keep that activity
spontaneous.

While he was wearing his female apparel, Ken was the perfect
***********. His every movement was in accordance with the sex he
was trying to portray. Even out of drag, in his regular clothes,
Susan noticed a subtle feminine gracefulness in his movements.
She was quite happy that he was starting to think like a girl.

- Making of a Mistress
Chapter 4
Susan Gains Control

Now that Susan had Ken looking and acting like a girl, she could
continue his training. She decided to teach him the "alphabet"
game. With minor changes, this game is played by ***********s
everywhere under a variety of names. The version Susan played was
played by bouncing a rubber ball under her leg while reciting; "A
my name is Alice, and my husband's name is Al. We come from
Alabama to sell you Apples. B my name is Barbara ...", all to the
cadence of the bouncing ball.

Susan thought this to be a particularly good game to teach Ken
since it was a perfect "***********'s game". Aside from the words
which are uniquely from a female's point of view, she had never
seen a boy play a game anything like it. Susan also thought it
would also get his penis bouncing along with the ball. In spite
of Ken's athletic abilities, it was obvious that he, at least,
had never played anything like it. He spent a good deal of time
amusing Susan by chasing the ball around the room.

It was while playing this game that Ken had a very fortunate
"accident" along the way. On one of his attempts, the ball
bounced up and hit his penis. This gave Susan an idea for a new
game. She had him stand with his back up against the support pole
in the room with his feet spread slightly apart and bounced her
ball off the floor in an attempt to have it gently nick the head
of his penis.

Susan had played the alphabet game enough as a *********** to be
able hit it almost every time. She called the game "P-ball"
(short for "Penis ball"), and was surprised that she didn't think
of this game sooner since it was only a bigger girl's version of
the game that Karen had played with him. It was so much fun for
Susan to be able to combine her toys.

Susan found the game to have many benefits. It was fun to play,
and she had a direct hand in doing something to Ken's penis. In
fact, Ken was totally passive (she later played a bondage version
of the game). She also enjoyed the control she had. She had taken
a boy's greatest and most valued possession, the very essence of
his maleness, his penis, and made it a girl's toy for a girl to
play with in a girl's game.

The game also had an interesting side effect -- the foreplay it
provided caused Ken to have very powerful ejaculations.

Although P-ball remained one of Susan's favorite games, she soon
found a better game to play using a rubber ball and a penis. She
discovered it about a week later as she was "fingering up" Ken
for a P-ball game.

Susan had the ball in her right hand, and as she was working the
head of his penis with her fingers, she accidentally rubbed the
ball against it. Ken's organ jerked at the touch of the rubber
sphere. Susan couldn't help but notice, and she tried a few more
tentative strokes with the ball alone to determine the reaction
she'd get.

Susan soon found herself rubbing the ball in various ways against
Ken's penis. She rapidly found a technique that got it responding
to her satisfaction. After another minute or two, Ken provided
Susan with a drop of his precome to work with. This extra
lubrication induced her to rub more vigorously. Before long, she
heard the familiar panting, and Ken exploded with an ejaculation
like she had never seen before.

Ken's jerk offs for her were mild by comparison. Ken experienced
an orgasm that was paralyzing. He nearly doubled over with cramps
and was so dizzy that he found it difficult to keep standing.
Susan felt like she had a runaway fire hose in her hands. The
ejaculate virtually erupted in violent spurts that she thought
would never stop. She had what seemed like gallons of his semen
all over the ball, her hand, her shorts, and her sneakers. She
knew that she would have to learn how to aim that thing.

In the following weeks, Susan worked to perfect her technique of
putting Ken "on the ball". Holding Ken's cock at the base with
her left hand, and making a loop with her thumb and middle
finger, she would squeeze the cock gently to trap some extra
blood, causing a firmer erection, and increasing the sensitivity
of the organ. She placed her index finger just behind the scrotum
so she could feel whenever he tensed his muscles in anticipation
of an orgasm. Taking the ball in her right hand, she moved it
back and forth lengthwise under the shaft of his cock gently
nipping the "cheeks" (the 5 and 7 o'clock positions of the head
as viewed from the front).

When she felt him tensing up, she concentrated on the shaft only,
while tightening her grip on the base of his cock and applying
gentle pressure with her index finger. This built up more
pressure in his penis yet kept him from ejaculating. The series
of actions produced very heavy hard-ons. Ken said that his penis
felt like it weighed ten pounds, and both he and Susan noticed
how hard it had gotten. The head would swell up. blood so filled
the organ that it was noticeably red, and every vein was
pulsating with the pressure.

At this point, Susan ceased all action for just a second, and
then gradually released the pressure of her left hand. Normally,
this procedure produced a drop of semen which she used to
lubricate the ball. First, she placed the ball up against the pee
hole, then gave it a few twists before making little circular
designs on the head with the ball. She then went back to work
underneath.

Susan alternately brought Ken to a point where he would almost
come and bring him back from the brink until she was ready to let
him ejaculate. When Susan was ready, she shifted rapidly from
"tease" gear to "high" gear doubling the speed of her rubbing and
slightly increasing the rubber to penis pressure. She increased
the pressure around the base of the penis, but eased up with her
index finger.

Her skill was so finely polished at "putting him on the ball",
that after the first couple of weeks, she could get Ken's penis
drooling at the very edge of orgasm in a matter of a minute, and
keep him there for as long as she wished. When she finally did
allow him to come, he let loose with such volume and force, that
she would see how far she could "shoot" him.

Susan found that she got her best shots when she had worked the
penis for at least 15 minutes, but usually not longer than 30.
(By this time, Ken was sweating, and out of his mind anyway).
Anything over 30 minutes, and she figured that she had "milked"
him too much.

Susan also discovered the differences in rubber balls. Her
primary toy was a ball with a "textured" rubber surface. Using
this type of ball she could get him going in a very short period
of time, and at the precise moment she desired, cause him to have
a very forceful ejaculation. It was excellent for shooting him
good distances.

The other type of ball available to her had a smooth rubber
surface. It took her longer to get him going on smooth rubber,
and she couldn't shoot him as far, but she found that she could
bring him closer to the edge of orgasm and keep him there longer.
This was so useful in teasing and bondage games.

Susan not only gained control over Ken's penis. She gained
control over Ken himself. If she ever had any doubts that a boy
was controlled by his penis they were over now. She was now
convinced that there was a direct connection between a boy's
prick and his brain. The more control a girl had over a boy's
cock, the greater control she had over the boy's mind.

Susan thought what a great toy a boy has between his legs. All a
girl has to do is get it to squirt white stuff, and he'll do
anything for her. And getting a boy to squirt was so easy! Boys
want it. Girls can do it. Boys love it when girls do it to them.
Why then, don't women rule the world?

Susan had gained the ultimate in control. She found that Ken
could no longer satisfy his own sexual needs without some sort of
help from her. Ken actually begged to have Susan "do it" to him.
He depended upon her attention to his penis for sexual
gratification as much as he depended upon air itself for life. He
was willing to do anything for her just to get the sexual release
that only she could provide for him. Susan was aware that she was
his sole source of sexual pleasure, and she loved being in that
position.

She used her new power to impose her will on him, and make sure
that her needs came first, and that he wouldn't get satisfaction
until she felt that he earned it. She was beginning to get high
on being a dominatrix. She remembered those earlier passages she
found in a book on female domination, and now she had the chance
to use them.

Her first interests were bondage and discipline. She found some
oversized rubber bands with hooks on them that are designed for
carrying books. Two of these were all it took to immobilize him
sufficiently for her to play with. She hooked one around his legs
just above the knees and the other around his arms behind his
back. Using these simple tools, she could pose him in almost any
position. She could have him free standing, kneeling, or "lashed"
to the support pole. he could even hobble around without
attaining full mobility.

She even kept his hands and legs bound for spankings. She just
loved the way his cock got hard between her legs as he lay across
her lap. (Even though she really couldn't bring herself to do
real damage to those cute buns). Usually, these spankings were
administered for Ken's non-perfect performance in acting out some
fantasy she described to him.

The one time she really did give Ken a good spanking was when she
caught him trying to masturbate without her permission. Both she
and Ken were fully aware that Ken could barely get it up, much
less get it off by simply jerking off unless she was watching. So
it came as little surprise when she caught him with one of her
rubber balls. As additional punishment, she decided to make him
try to complete the act all by himself as she watched him.

In spite of her close supervision and instruction, (mostly in the
form of jeering remarks about "the ********** playing with his
'pee pee'"), the effort was a failure. Ken simply didn't have the
discipline to masturbate himself as well as Susan did. He rushed
himself to ejaculation. There was relatively little come, he did
not squirt it very far, and he felt very embarrassed and
unsatisfied doing it.

Susan gave him a stern lecture about how males didn't have the
self control necessary for satisfying sex. She got Ken to admit
that girls knew what was good for boys better than boys
themselves. Her point was that sex would be better for a boy only
if he put total control of his sexual activities under the
direction of a female. Susan made him promise her that he
wouldn't attempt to masturbate without her consent again.


Making of a Mistress
Chapter 5
A Girl and her Toys

Susan didn't know about the male fascination with fetish objects
when she started experimenting with rubber balls on Ken's penis.
What she did notice was that there was something special in the
way this particular rubber object affected Ken, and this lead her
to try other objects made of rubber on his cock. Fortunately
rubber items are common, relatively inexpensive, and easy to hide
(some of them were small, but most of them were everyday items,
and she could store them "in the open" in her room with no
questions asked). Best of all, they were either disposable, or
cleaned up easily. She tried rubbers (both the kind designed for
the penis, and the foot), dolls, raincoats, boots, rubber gloves
(disappointing), and even bicycle inner tubes. All of them worked
to some degree, but what Susan found worked best were her bathing
caps and sneakers.

Susan never thought much of bathing caps. They looked ugly,
smelled funny, and since the invention of the hair drier, were
obsolete. She rarely saw any women using them at the beach or
pool and, she wondered, with such a limited market, why anyone
even made them anymore. Yet once she found out what marvelous sex
toys they made, and she needed to buy them, she found out that
people did make them, stores did stock them, and the stock levels
did get depleted. She noticed that the sales were too high to be
supported by the limited market of women she saw wearing them,
and she wondered if many bathing caps were bought by women and
men for more private use.

The obvious thing to do with a bathing cap, (if you're a girl
playing with a penis), is to place the cap over the penis, and
rub it. Although Susan expected this to be a boring procedure
(from her point of view), she was pleasantly surprised by how
well she could feel Ken's penis through the rubber. Stretching it
over his hard cock or feeling it "nub" against the dry rubber was
a lot of fun for Susan. However, she really loved the way it slid
around in the cap once he started to lubricate. Best of all,
masturbating Ken like this gave her the total sensation and none
of the mess when he ejaculated. She could easily feel every
contraction and squirt.

Susan liked masturbating Ken this way because she had good
control over his penis, it was neat, and she could easily measure
how much Ken put out. Ken liked it because his penis was totally
surrounded by rubber, his cock was kept well lubricated by his
trapped semen and his mess was easier to clean up.

Being able to measure Ken's semen output was important to Susan.
It was one way she could check if Ken were cheating on her by
masturbating on his own without her permission.

The layout of the basement apartment was such that the closets to
her room and Ken's room were back-to-back. In fact, they were
built on either side of a door originally connecting the rooms.
The door was still there in the back of each of the closets, but
latched shut with the door knob missing. The hole where the
doorknob used to be was exactly at the height of Ken's penis.

On Saturday and Sunday nights, Susan required that Ken put a
bathing cap over his penis, stand at attention in the closet with
his face up against the door, stick his member through the hole,
and patiently wait for her. She sternly warned him that he better
be on time and ready at any time she wanted to play with him. She
usually got to him within a half hour of the time she told him to
report, but sometimes she would make him stand there for over an
hour waiting for her to come to him. He was usually well
lubricated by the time she got to him, so she could quickly
masturbate him and measure the amount of semen he produced. She
knew exactly how much come his average ejaculation produced.

If Ken failed to meet his production quota, Susan had the
appropriate punishment ready the next weekday. She would take the
caps Ken did fill over the weekend, plus whatever she could get
out of him on the spot, and make him clean them out by licking up
his own juices.

Susan found the very plain bathing caps worked well for direct
finger masturbation. In fact, the latex type like those worn by
the girls' swimming team gave her an excellent feel for Ken's
penis. She usually reserved the "heavy duty" rubber caps for
Ken's weekend duty (due to his limited mobility, and the limited
amount of his penis exposed, she couldn't really feel him as well
with her fingers anyway, and the extra texture of the rubber on
the interior of the cap helped her masturbate him). Besides, it
would keep Ken from feeling exactly what she was doing. Susan
would sometimes treat herself by removing her panties and rubbing
her crotch against the cap as it stretched over Ken's penis. By
standing on a couple of books, she could manage to match her
height with Ken's and make contact with her clitoris. Ken never
had an idea of what was going on.

Susan found that fancy and frilly caps were not as good as
simpler ones for finger masturbation because there was to too
much rubber in the way. She used these bathing caps as erection
holders. She would turn the caps inside out, and place them over
his cock and balls holding the cap in place with a rubber band
"chain" around Ken's waist and attached to the cap at the chin
strap points. His penis nestled in the flowers and leaves of the
cap, and whenever he got excited, his penis twitched, causing it
to be licked and massaged in the rubbery flaps. This excited him
even more, and started a stimulus-response chain reaction. There
was never sufficient enough stimulation to make him come, but the
process did keep him tickled into a constant state of arousal.
Even after a long time "in the bag", he had a beautifully red,
rock-solid hard-on for her to play with.

Susan considered giving Ken an erection and having him hold it as
an important part of his training. Not only did she want to
control his orgasms, she wanted to control every step of the
process leading up to them. Prior to Ken's training with Susan,
he did not have control over his penis. Erections would come and
go randomly. When he got an erection, he would tend to play with
it until he ejaculated. By training him with her rubber ball and
bathing cap, Susan taught him how to have an erection any time at
her command. In the very initial phases of training, Susan's
stimulation of Ken's organ was all physical. Step by step, she
would interrupt the procedure at strategic stages until she
didn't have to touch his penis at all for him to attain a hard-on
to her satisfaction.

After each training session, she sent Ken to his room with
specific instructions on how to practice. She could tell from his
lack of performance if he didn't practice enough, and from his
lack of semen if he got carried away and jerked off. Ken stated
that he really appreciated her coaching him. It was a lot easier
for him to get an erection in her presence, and he was aware of
the constant threat of discipline should he even think of
satisfying his urges without her permission.

With the proper concentration on his penis, Ken could bring it
from a totally "rested" state to a full hard-on in about 30
seconds. Using the male equivalent technique of a Kegel exercise
which he learned from Susan, he could "bounce" his penis up and
down and make the head pulsate by contracting the muscles at the
base of his scrotum. After several minutes of this exercise, his
penis would be excited enough to produce a drop of precome.

Ken was expected to continue this procedure for as long as Susan
demanded. In some cases, she had his penis drooling a nearly
steady stream of precome until she gave the "stop" signal. At
this point, Ken was still expected to maintain a hard-on, but was
allowed to give his cramped muscles a break.

"Stiffening up" was expected of Ken prior to any activity with
Susan. She said that it was his responsibility to have a hard-on
for her when she was ready to play with him, and that she
shouldn't have to work to give him one. She carefully explained
that if she were going to work out his penis, then he should make
sure he did the proper "warm up" exercises. Once Ken was
"primed", he was ready to do (or have done to him) anything she
desired.

The purpose of the stiffen up exercises was to teach Ken
discipline. Having an erection did not mean that he got to
ejaculate. Bringing himself to a point of self arousal under
Susan's supervision was difficult. Without her intervention, he
wouldn't have be able to resist masturbating long before he was
ready to ejaculate properly. To further enforce his training,
Susan would occasionally intervene using the rubber ball to bring
him beyond the sexual arousal caused by stiffening up to the very
threshold of orgasm before bringing him back.

One of the things a dominant girl has to teach a boy is to make
him masturbate to the pre-come level. How to make him do so
without cheating was difficult. Certainly, the girl can't depend
upon the boy's own judgment.

Susan found the answer in her bathing cap. She made Ken place the
cap over his penis and gently massage himself. Once he got his
first drop of precome, he was expected to spread it over the
inside of the cap using his penis. She demanded that he keep
doing it until he totally coated the inside of the cap with his
precome without ejaculating.

>From Ken's point of view, he had to slow masturbate himself over
and over again so he could become excited enough to produce
enough precome to meet Susan's demand, yet he had to hold back
just enough on each occasion to keep from ejaculating. He knew
that he had to learn how to discipline his own erections.

Susan could demand that Ken stiffen up at any time, and she did.
She didn't limit her control only to their private play sessions.
She invented a subtle "stiffen up" signal that she could issue
which Ken was required to recognize and obey whenever he saw it,
even in public. It was a totally safe way for her to order him
around when a verbal command from her would be embarrassing for
her. The embarrassment was all Ken's as he had to produce the
bulge in his pants.

She usually did this when Ken was with her on a trip to the mall
to spend his money on clothes for her. She'd generally arrange
the time so she would run into her girlfriends there. Ken stood
silently by as she would talk with her friends while totally
ignoring him, except for the secret signal. She, herself, would
never say anything about Ken's condition, but the giggling,
whispered conversation among her girlfriends as soon as the
meeting broke up left no doubt that the girls had noticed. As
often as not, Ken stained the front of his pants. To make sure
this was noticeable, Susan made sure he wore tight, light colored
pants whenever she did this.

Repeated practice of this basic discipline exercise further
impressed the role Ken was to serve. Susan was Ken's superior,
and his penis a toy with which she could play. His erections were
for her pleasure, and his ejaculations given only at her command
when she thought he deserved them.



Making of a Mistress
Chapter 6
A Girl's Best Friend.

However, when it came to masturbating Ken, Susan soon found that
her sneakers were her most versatile toys.

Sneakers are sort of a fashion statement for girls. On one end of
the spectrum, there are the the "big" brand names like Nike,
Rebook, or Adidas. On the other end are simple Keds-style tennis
shoes. There's something about the simple canvas oxford that, no
matter what kind of other athletic footwear a girl has, she
always has at least several pairs of them. It seems like just
every generation of girls grew up in them. There's something
special about them. Susan noticed that every female in her family
from her todler cousins to her grandmother wore them!

Susan soon discovered that not just the rubber, but every part of
the sneaker was significant to the masturbation effort. The
overall shape was suggestive (she found Ken to respond to pointed
toes better than rounded toes). She found the outsole (that's the
strip of rubber holding the uppers to the soles) to be useful in
teasing games. Of particular use was the part of the outsole that
was normally between her legs as she was wearing the sneakers.
Even the color played a role. (Ken seemed partial to light blue --
the color sneakers she had made him wear, and pink -- the
color she usually wore). However, Ken had no problem splattering
her well autographed and decorated plain white Keds with his
come.

The most important part of the sneaker, of course, was the sole,
particularly the "working rubber" (the part that corresponds to
the ball of the girl's foot). This, ultimately, was where all
masturbation took place. Although Susan's first masturbation
sneakers were Keds, it didn't take her long to discover the great
variety awaiting her in shoe stores. She noticed that each
manufacturer had its own special features. Some of them sported a
low-relief "crepe" rubber sole, some had molded rubber soles,
while others still were "hand wrapped." The rubber itself was
either "gummy," or smooth, or "silky," or textured. There were so
many combinations to choose from!

She also discovered that Ken often responded differently to the
same sneakers each time she used them. As she wore her sneakers,
Susan would expose fresh rubber, and slightly change the contours
of the sole design. Ken told to her that sneakers whose soles
were scuffed on concrete caused different sensations in his penis
than sneakers she wore to dance on a wood floor, or sneakers
scrubbed clean by her wearing them while walking on the sand on
the beach. All of these factors made sneakering an unpredictable
affair which both Susan and Ken found to be very exciting.

The very first method of sneakering was called by Susan, "the
lazy girl" method. It evolved from her "humping" experiments on
other rubber objects with Ken. Ken would lay on his stomach with
his penis off to one side. One pair of sneakers was placed, soles
up parallel to his body. These were the "spacers" used to hold a
third sneaker in the proper position for the working rubber to be
in contact with his organ. Ken held another sneaker between his
leg with the sole against his penis. This sneaker provided some
elevation so Susan could see what was going on. Ken then simply
humped himself while viewing the scrapbook.

The scrapbook was a book of Polaroid shots Susan had taken of Ken
in his various outfits, in all kinds of masturbational poses. The
acquisition of a self timer allowed Susan to get into the picture
and provide a pictorial "how to" masturbate a boy. Her only
regret was that she could never time it just right to get him in
the act of actually ejaculating. (The only pictures she had of
this was some she staged where he jerked off for the camera). The
lazy girl method worked, but both Susan and Ken enjoyed it when
she had more control over his orgasm.

Susan knew she needed a "hand held" method of getting Ken off
with her sneakers. Although she wasn't immediately successful,
she did discover a means of getting him erected which she called
"tickling him up". She took her sneakers and held them
sole-to-sole with the inner outsole up, the toes pointed towards
Ken, and the heels towards herself. She then put the heels under
the head of his penis and slowly pulled the sneakers towards
herself allowing Ken's cock to bump and rub its way along the
designs in the outsole. With only several strokes of her
sneakers, she could excite him into a perfect hard-on for her to
play with.

This teasing method soon led Susan to discover what she really
wanted: how to masturbate Ken directly with her sneakers. Susan
found that if she held her sneakers as if she were tickling him
up, but separated her thumbs as if she were opening a book, his
penis would fall into the slot formed by the soles of the
sneakers. She then moved the sneakers back and forth in a girl to
boy motion keeping the head of his cock in contact with the
working rubber. She soon discovered she could vary the pressure
by how much she opened her "sneaker book", and by how she tilted
the sneakers into his body. Using these techniques, Susan was
able to provide a light, tickling "push" and a strong, rubbing
"pull" on his penis with the rubber.

Susan found this to be a particularly entertaining way to
ejaculate Ken since his penis was in complete view, yet under her
control. Watching him come this way was like watching a penis
come on its own. She often took Ken on trips to the Mall and
spent his money on sneakers. Within several months of discovering
how to have fun with sneakers, she had sneakers of almost every
style and color from every shoe store to go with every outfit she
could possibly put together. More importantly, she had a variety
of rubbers to keep Ken pumping vigorously.

Susan found that having a number of sneakers was another way for
her to enforce erection control in Ken. In addition to causing
one by tickling up, she could require him to rub his penis with
the soles of her sneakers.

Susan knew that it would take many minutes of intense stimulation
with the rubber parts for Ken to get excited enough to produce
enough precome to cover the whole sole. She knew that if she
wanted him to be in the precome state of anticipation for a full
half an hour, all she had to do was have Ken coat several pairs
of her sneaker soles with his precome. On several special
occasions, she had him do her entire collection!

If that weren't enough, she would also use her mom's sneakers
when she could get them. Ken liked doing it on "auntie's
sneakers" since she wore them mostly around the house, and they
had a special texture to them.

Both Susan and Ken found sneakers to be an integral part of their
sex activities. Susan couldn't put on a pair without thinking of
masturbating Ken, and she always wore a pair when she was around
him. Ken, for his part, found it difficult not to get an erection
when seeing nearly any girl wearing a pair of sneakers.


-=o=-

Making of a Mistress
Chapter 7
Judy

Having a cock as nice as Ken's to play with was a dream any
twelve-year-old girl would consider mere fantasy. Yet Susan knew
that this news was too good to keep to herself. She yearned to
share the fun with other members of her sex. Every time she saw a
girl playing with a rubber ball, or wearing sneakers she wanted
to tell her how much power she had at her hands and feet! Susan
knew, however, that only a special kind of girl could really
appreciate this power. She wanted to find a girl who had more
than mere curiosity. She knew that almost every girl knew what
boys looked like, and most have at least handled a cock.

What she really wanted to find was a girl with the same
dominatrix tendencies she had. She needed a girl who felt
superior to her male counterparts, and could get a thrill from
humiliating a boy. However, she didn't know which girls these
were. When she was six to ***************, she might have been
more daring. Girls at that age seem to have the advantage.
Somehow, as they approach the teen years, they lose it and become
more fawning and less threatening to the boys. Even among her
closest friends, this was not a topic for casual conversation.
She found her answer on her first day of Junior High.

Susan was surprised to meet Judy in her Biology Class. Judy had
just moved back into the neighborhood from out of state, and the
two girls had a lot of catching up to do. They quickly dispensed
with the "girl talk", and got down to discussing their respective
conquests with boys. Judy, as usual took the lead, and whenever
they were able to talk privately, told Susan of her experiences.

Judy had spent the summer at her uncle's farm. There she had
caught her eleven-year-old cousin, Paul, drinking. She knew her
uncle didn't believe in drinking at all, and she used this
discovery to blackmail him into showing her his penis. She also
made him accompany her across the field where she had him boost
her up a tree and used his binoculars to watch some boys skinny
dipping in another field.

Her greatest conquest, however, was in the last town where she
lived. She was aided in this victory by her baby sitter, Jill.
The arrangement was that Jill would watch her and the neighbor
c***dren, Jeremy and Christine, at the neighbor's house. This was
the setup for the three years she lived there. The first year was
normal. It was in the beginning of the second year when Judy was
ten, Christine was eight, Jeremy was eleven, and Jill was 17 that
penis play became really big in her life again.

It was a night as normal as any other Friday night, and the girls
were watching TV downstairs. Neither of the girls paid any
attention to the fact that Jill and Jeremy were missing until
Jill called for them to come upstairs to the bathroom.

When they got there, the girls found a partially clad Jeremy with
a girlie magazine. Jill said that she found Jeremy playing with
himself while looking at the magazine. She then made some
mysterious remark about men being dominated by their own bodies;
"Like father like son". From this, and other remarks, Judy
gathered that there was something going on between Jill, and
Jeremy's father.

However, the immediate problem (or pleasure) was Jeremy. Jill
asked the two younger girls for suggestions on how they could
take advantage of this situation, although she already knew how
she wished to disciple Jeremy. Christine said that her father had
caught Jeremy doing something like this before, and gave him a
good spanking. Jeremy confirmed this as he was almost in tears
pleading with Jill not to tell his father.

It was obvious that Jeremy's case was desperate. When Jill asked
the two younger girls how she should punish Jeremy, they wasted
no time coming up with suggestions. Judy, playing dumb, asked
Jill what she meant when she said Jeremy was 'playing with
himself'. Jill made Jeremy give a detailed verbal description of
his acts to Judy and his sister.

Jeremy said he'd be willing to do whatever the girls asked him to
do as long as they didn't tell his father what they caught him
doing. He promised never to play with himself again. Jill
suggested exactly the opposite. If he liked playing with himself,
then he'd be forced to do so. Since he liked to look at women
while he jerked off, she would grant his wish. Only this time,
the women would remain clothed while he would be the one naked.
It took some time for Jill and Judy to convince Christine to go
along with the idea, but she finally gave in.

Jill made Jeremy get undressed and as he was doing so, Jill asked
the girls if they had ever seen a boy in the nude before. Judy
answered a simple yes trying to hide her excitement. Christine
said that she and her brother had taken baths together until
several years ago, but she was surprised how big he had gotten.

Jill had Jeremy stand in front of them, and ordered him to jerk
off. One more "I'll tell your dad" from her was all the
intimidation he needed. He fumbled with his penis, and somehow
reached climax. He was still so young that he could barely
produce any come and this plainly disappointed Jill who then went
on to explain to the other girls about the male ejaculation.

After Jeremy performed his penis pumping act for his female
audience, Jill took him into the master bedroom for some "private
punishment" Judy couldn't resist peeking under the door. What she
saw was Jill's skirt and panties d****d down around her sneakers.
Jill's legs were set apart, and the naked Jeremy apparently
kneeling in front of her. Jill was obviously sitting on the bed
with Jeremy's head in her lap (lapping it up Judy supposed).
Every now and then, Jill would hit Jeremy with a belt across his
back or buttocks.

>From then on, Jill made sure that the girls remained in charge of
Jeremy and his cock. She told Jeremy that if he gave her or the
two younger girls the slightest problem, she would tell his
father about catching him playing with himself. She also laid
down the ground rules. Every Friday, Jeremy was to take off all
his clothes as soon as his parents left, and keep them off until
bedtime. Furthermore, he was ordered to show his penis to
Christine and Judy and any other girl they invited whenever they
asked. It took a while for Christine to take advantage of this
situation on other than Friday night, but after a while, with
some urging from Judy, she got to like the idea of female
domination and being "on top" of her older brother.

Eventually, the two girls brought another ten-year-old, Patricia,
into the group several months later. Patricia was able to offer
her seven-year-old brother, Jimmy, as another playmate. Patricia
was a product of a broken family and an alcoholic mother.
Patricia practically raised her brother on her own. Patricia saw
the abuse her mother took from her the men who would come and
visit. She, herself, was m*****ed by some of these men. Somewhat
out of defense, she started dressing Jimmy in her clothes hoping
to divert some of the attention away from her. After a while, it
just became something to do.

She was determined not to let Jimmy grow up like the men who
abused her mother and her. Her mother had no interest in raising
either of them, so Patricia was forced to take over the total
care of her brother for as long as she could remember. While
other ***********s were diapering dolls, she was diapering the
"real thing". Although she loved her brother, she also resented
him because of the responsibilities and demands he placed on her.
Her only control in life was to dominate him since he was a baby.
She wanted revenge against some male because of her abuse, and
she wanted Jimmy to respect females.

The result was that Jimmy not only respected, but actually feared
girls and held them in awe. Patricia frequently played with her
brother, and shared him with her girlfriends. Jimmy was convinced
that he existed only to serve females, and that his penis was a
plaything for them, To Jimmy, girls dominating over boys was the
natural order of things.

The three girls played with Jimmy's and Jeremy's private parts
almost daily. Not only were they interested in girl touching boy
type play, but they also enjoyed watching the boys touch each
other. Recalling Jill's instructions, they made sure that Jeremy
jerked off for them frequently, his semen came in rapidly over
the following months. Judy still corresponded with Christine
about her adventures with her brother. Christine and Patricia had
now "graduated" to using their brothers to bring other boys
around to showing them their penises and letting them play with
them.

Susan didn't get to tell Judy about Ken. The clearest message she
could arrange was to have Judy come over the next afternoon and
stay for dinner. She did manage to add that Judy should wear her
sneakers.

-=o=-

It was fortunate for the girls that the Junior High School had
half day sessions for the first week. This give them ample time
to prepare for Ken before he came home from school. Susan gave
Judy as much detail as she could during the short walk from the
bus stop to her house. Judy was excited, but she contained it
well until they got to Susan's room. Susan went into her closet
and started to pull out numerous pairs of sneakers from a box.
Judy asked if Susan really wore all those sneakers. Susan simply
replied that she did as she reached the object she was seeking --
the scrapbook.

Judy pored over the pages with ever widening eyes as she took in
the pictures of Ken's beautiful organ, and Susan's manipulations
of it. She became agitated, and attempted to masturbate herself
surreptitiously by rubbing her thighs together. Susan caught onto
this immediately, and she pulled her own panties off and stick
her fingers up her skirt. She told Judy that she couldn't get
through the book herself without doing this.

Judy told her to wait, and she reached into her purse and pulled
out an object she "liberated" from her older sister. Susan knew
immediately what it was and complied with Judy's request to lie
down on the bed. Judy used the vibrating dildo with great skill
(she admitted to having a lot of practice) and soon had Susan
well into the first of many orgasms. Susan was in such a swoon
that she was only dimly aware of Judy removing her blouse and
skirt. Once Judy started to nibble on her young firm breasts,
Susan went into complete ecstasy. When Susan came around again,
she saw that Judy had also stripped down to a mere pair of
sneakers. She reached up and drew Judy to her, and they embraced
with a passionate kiss. Susan got hold of the dildo, and returned
the favor. By the time they were done, they barely had enough
time to get dressed, and prepare for Ken.

-
-=o=-

Making of a Mistress
Chapter 8
Two Girls and a Boy

Susan had Judy hide in the bathroom. As soon as Ken got in the
door, she ordered him to get into his outfit, bring the rubber
sex toys into the playroom, and stand there while she blindfolded
and bound him. Susan explained that they were going to play a
version of "blind man's bluff". She then turned on the radio
which gave Judy her clue that it was safe to come out. It was a
good thing since the music hid any small noise Judy might have
made. As it was, Judy had to bite her lip to keep from giggling
as she saw Ken standing there with his stiff prick sticking out
from under his skirt.

The game started easily enough as Ken could home in on Susan's
voice as she held her sneakers out for him to dock his "love
boat" on the rubber soles. To add a little more spice to the
game, Susan gave his cock a few strokes with the sneakers to see
if he could identify which pair she was using by the feel of the
rubber soles against his penis. She was surprised by how well Ken
could distinguish between them. Not only could he tell the
difference between brand names, but he could identify specific
sneakers.

To make the game more challenging, Susan arranged the next set of
toys to have Ken on his knees pushing his cock into bathing caps
on chairs and finally crawling in the floor poking at rubber
balls.

After Ken had touched his cock to every rubber object in Susan's
collection, he was thoroughly aroused and dripping semen almost
steadily. Susan figured he was ready to be introduced to Judy.
She once again allowed him to track in on her voice as she gave
her commands over Judy's shoulder. Judy took his member in her
hand and gave it a few rubs with a ball just as Susan got behind
him and removed the blindfold. There he stood face to face, and
penis to rubber with a strange, but attractive twelve-year-old
girl.

Susan had him greet "Miss Judy" with a tongue lashing. He was
required to debase himself by licking her legs from the thighs
down. As he worked his way down, Susan suggested that Judy remove
her sneakers. She said that she'd have better uses for them
later. As Ken licked his way towards her feet, Susan noticed that
Judy became tense. Once his tongue reached her feet, Judy asked
Susan if Ken could be blindfolded again, and Susan told her to go
for it. Susan explained, that in her house, girls were supreme,
and any order given to a boy had best be carried out swiftly. Ken
was hers, and she could order him to do anything.

Once the blindfold was in place, Judy sat in a chair with her
feet on a stool with Ken kneeling before them. Judy slipped off
her panties and started to masturbate as Ken administered oral
foot care. She instructed him in the fine art of licking a
female's feet.

She made him do each one of what she considered the "basic
functions" over and over again. There was the circular tongue
movements around her ankle, the gentle side to side flick along
her arch, running the back of his tongue down her instep, and
most importantly, how to suck and nibble on her toes while
running his tongue between them. She was going into orbit, and
Ken was getting one of the biggest and hardest erections of his
life. Susan couldn't let such a beautiful hard-on go to waste, so
she put him in the bag.

Time was running out on the girls, so after Judy had several
satisfying orgasms, Susan regrettably had to stop the affair.
Although she really enjoyed watching Judy getting it on she
wanted to see her "do" Ken. She quickly demonstrated to Judy how
to use the rubber balls, bathing caps and sneakers and asked Judy
to shoot him off. Judy selected her own sneakers as her weapon
and went to work immediately. She learned quickly. Her technique
was slightly different than Susan's but equally effective, and
she soon had Ken's creamy white come on the working rubber of her
sneakers.

Judy was a "natural" in the way she ordered Ken around. Susan
never got to see female domination "from the outside", and she
really got a kick out of watching another girl give her boy the
treatment. Susan knew she had gotten the right girl for the job
as Judy ordered Ken to remove his ejaculate from her sneakers by
licking them clean. She told him to suck at the rubber and use
his tongue and teeth to gently sc**** it clean. Both girls
considered domination of a male a social thing for girls to do,
and fed off each other's enthusiasm.


-=o=-

Making of a Mistress
Chapter 9
Four Girls and a Boy

Things went well between Judy and Susan. They each enjoyed
playing with Ken's penis, and shared him nicely. Susan was
finally able to get the pictures she wanted of Ken coming on a
rubber ball or on a pair of her sneakers. One girl would work the
camera, the other girl worked the penis.

Each girl enjoyed watching as well as doing. Making Ken ejaculate
was a spectator sport for the girls as well as a participatory
sport. Because of this, the girls figured that there was more
than enough of Ken's penis to go around. They decided that they
could take other girls into the group.

Their attempt to do so was based upon putting an "ad" in the
girls' bathroom at school. The ad stated that any girl interested
in playing with a boy's private parts should meet at the flagpole
in the playground at a specified time and wear a specific set of
clothing so she could be identified.

On the appointed day at the appointed time, Judy went to the flag
pole dressed as a respondent to the ad. The only other respondent
was Helen, the girl every other girl in school envied. Helen was
intelligent, good looking, popular, talented, good at sports,
etc. She had it all.

Judy was a little leery to talk to her at first, but eventually
worked up the courage to ask her if she was there in response to
the ad. Helen, for her part, was also cautious, but the two girls
eventually agreed that they were there for the same purpose. As
Susan and Judy planned, nothing happened that day. The following
day, Helen got a message in her locker indicating that she was
seen at the proper place, and where she should go to meet the
girl who had the boy to play with.

Once Susan and Judy were sure that Helen was not a plant from the
school authorities, they took her into their complete confidence.
Helen, did indeed, meet all their requirements. She gave good
proof that she had experience playing with penises, and had the
right attitude towards boys.

This attitude was based on the way she was treated at school. She
said that she would have done a lot better if she were a boy. She
claimed that most of the emphasis went in to boy's programs at
school while the lesser activities and lesser funding were left
to the girls. She swore that she was "done out of" an honors
science course simply because she was a girl. As a member of the
girls swim team and tennis team, she had to pay for all of her
equipment and transportation to most of the matches, while the
boys basketball and football teams were school funded and got
much better coverage in the school paper even though they
finished in lower positions in their respective leagues Even the
cheerleaders for the boys teams got better "press" than the girls
teams themselves. Having some "dumb jock" tell her "that's the
way it is, sweetie" didn't help. She wanted to get even, and she
envied Judy's and Susan's opportunity to do so.

On the following Monday, Susan made Ken take her and Judy to the
pizza shop, where they "accidentally" ran into Helen. Susan made
Ken stand by her side facing Helen as the girls sat down and then
gave him the "stiffen up" signal. Ken was beginning to get used
to having hard-ons for Susan in front of her girlfriends. This
time, however, his erection was not ignored in the conversation.
Almost immediately, Helen remarked that it looked quite
impressive even though he was still dressed. This was invitation
enough for the girls to start talking openly about it. The
waitress came by, overhead a little of the conversation, took a
quick glance down at Ken's crotch, smiled, gave the girls a wink
and a "thumbs up" and walked on to the kitchen door where she had
a conversation with two other waitresses, pointing over towards
the girls and Ken.

During the next hour, the three waitresses seemed to find excuses
to drift by. Although none of the tables immediately next to the
girls had been used, they got wiped clean several times. Chairs
got re-adjusted. Salt shakers got filled, removed, empty ones
brought in and re-filled. Their own waitress came by several
times with water. On each of these occasions, the waitress would
stop and listen in on the conversation and witness Ken's
embarrassment.

Finally, the girls decided to leave. After making Ken pay the
bill they got up, and walked towards the door. Their waitress
followed them and gave Susan back the tip saying, "Keep it honey,
with what I see guys trying to do to us girls in here all the
time, it was worth it. If I had a penny for every time some guy
would try to hit on me, it would make a far better tip than you
could ever give me. It's nice the see us girls win one every now
and then to even the score just a little. Come back again". "Make
sure you bring your friend. The girls and I found him amusing",
she added, looking down at Ken's crotch one more time.

"Then maybe you'd like this instead of a tip", said Susan as she
fished into her purse and presented a picture to the waitress. It
showed Ken dressed in his ***********'s outfit caught in mid-
ejaculation as Susan pumped his penis with her sneakers. The
waitress reddened, but instinctively looked down at her own
sneakers, and smiled impishly. She asked Susan what she was doing
to make Ken come this way and Susan gave her a brief description.

The waitress said that she could use that technique on her horny
boyfriend. Susan told her, that she could do a lot of things to
her boyfriend that will make him beg for her attention. As they
left, they could see the three waitresses huddled together in the
corner looking at the picture.

The girls adjourned to Susan's house where Helen immediately put
her skills to work, improving on the masturbation / discipline /
training techniques developed by Susan and Judy. In fact, the two
other girls had to restrain her enthusiasm.

-=o=-

The problem with Helen, is that she was frequently left in charge
of her nine-year-old sister, Julia. This meant that Helen
couldn't always participate, or that Susan or Judy would have to
entertain Julia while the other girls were involved with Ken.
This situation was unsatisfactory, so the three older girls
elected to bring Julia into the group.

They weren't sure how a young girl like Julia would react to
joining such a group. Helen advised caution and developed a plan
to bring her sister in gradually. Helen already suspected that
her sister had experience with boys before, and this was
confirmed during the first week of Julia's "initiation".

The girls gave Ken the week off (with plenty of bathing caps to
fill at the doorknob at night), as they worked with Julia. They
started off innocuously enough with "girl talk", and Julia was
delighted to be included in the conversation with older girls.
Eventually, the talk was guided around to boys, and the girl's
earlier experiences with penis play. The older females,
naturally, downplayed their experience. Julia readily admitted
that she had a playmate who frequently showed her his penis.

>From there, the girls had a contest to see who could draw the
best penis. The pretext was so they could confirm what they all
saw. Susan and Judy drew sketches which got the point across well
enough, while Helen's artistic talent allowed her to produce a
drawing suitable for an illustration in a medical textbook. To
the delight of the three older girls, Julia drew her penis in an
erected condition.

Helen's artistic talents were legendary. She won several awards
in school, but she actually did her best work on canvas that
wasn't in a frame. Helen supplemented her income by decorating
the sneakers of her girlfriends. They would bring her a new pair
of white sneakers, and Helen would paint on a custom design.
Usually she specialized in floral designs with the girl's name
worked in, or in women's faces with flowing hair.

Helen did a special job for Susan. She decorated a pair of her
sneakers with a flesh colored penis portraits. On the top of the
sneakers, she painter a top view of the penis and "played" the
curvature of the sneaker to get a 3-D effect. On the side panels
she painted right and left views of the organ ending up with a
rear view of the testicles at the heel.

Helen also painted c***dren's faces at parties and school fairs,
so she was also familiar with painting skin. On occasions she
would decorate Ken's penis. She usually used one of her floral
designs and painted the leaves stems and vines along the shaft,
while placing a flower at the head. There was a special challenge
painting the head. As the paint brush licked the ridges, Ken's
penis would twitch and pulsate. She had never worked on such a
difficult surface.

Sometimes, she would paint for a humorous or cute effect. Her
flowers often had patterns suggestive of a face, and she made use
of the natural contours of the penis and the pee hole to complete
the design.

Not all of her designs were flowers. She did a red, white and
blue balloon design with "Happy Birthday Susan" in honor of the
occasion. As with her sneaker designs, she often worked the
girl's name into her design. Normally she used paint that washed
off, but on a few occasions, she would use ink that took several
days to fade. Ken had to be careful in the locker room so he
wouldn't have to explain why he had a girl's name painted on his
prick.

Eventually, the girls demonstrated all of this to Julia, but
right now, they were interested in getting her set up in the
club.

Once it was confirmed that Julia had seen a penis and was
comfortable about it, the older girls admitted to her that they
had set her up. She was asked if she would like to see a picture
of a real penis. Since she had no objection, the girls produced
some pictures of Ken taken especially for the occasion. In spite
of the hundreds of pictures in the scrapbook, Susan had none of
Ken where he wasn't masturbating, being masturbated, crossed
dressed or put in some humiliating position. Susan needed some
plain pictures of his penis in various states of arousal from
totally flaccid to slightly erected.

Julia enjoyed the pictures so much that the girls decided to ask
her if they wanted to meet the boy who let them take the pictures
and see his cock for real. Julia realized that she had already
seen all that there was to see, and from the nature of the
pictures, she could see that they were taken "locally". There was
only one "local" boy, Susan's cousin, so she had a good idea who
it was she would meet. She knew Ken, and was comfortable with
him, so she agreed.

The first step was to prepare Ken for the meeting. They pumped
him totally dry using every masturbation technique they knew.
Then they checked all rubber balls, sneakers, and bathing caps at
the door. Julia was brought in, and introduced to a totally
dressed Ken. Susan asked Ken to show them his penis, and they all
went to the bathroom where Ken unzipped his fly and urinated
while the four girls watched.

>From there, they went back into the family room where Susan, Judy
and Helen played "trading post" with Ken. The game was quite
simple, in order to get a piece of clothing back from the girls,
Ken had to trade them a piece of clothing he was wearing. The
girls continued play until he was totally naked.

The following Monday was the big day. Ken was given the entire
weekend off (with the strictest orders that he would engage in
absolutely no sexual activity). That afternoon, after school, the
four girls assembled in Susan's basement to witness Ken's "pee
and strip act". Helen was pleased that he was able to do so with
only the slightest sign of an erection. Once the girls soon
settled down to other activities and Julia became comfortable
with Ken's nudity, Helen decided it was time to get her sister
more involved. She produced a rubber ball from hiding, and
suggested that Julia and Ken bounce it back and forth to one
another.

The mere sight of the ball would normally be enough to get Ken
aroused. In his condition of not having been masturbated for
nearly 72 hours after such strenuous "training", he was "up" in a
matter of seconds. Having to actually handle anything made of
rubber in a game with a girl gave him quite an impressive
hard-on. Julia had no choice but to notice it, and the girls
convinced her to learn how to play P-ball. At first she was
extremely excited, and giggled a lot every time she touched Ken's
penis. However, by the end of the day, she had picked up on
playing P-ball, and became very matter of fact about playing with
Ken's penis.

The finale of the afternoon came when the girls had Ken
masturbate for them. He knelt down facing them as they crowded on
the couch to watch him jerk off. Although he was performing
without direct intervention of a girl, and was not using a rubber
toy, he did a very good job. Having him abstain for several days,
and playing P-ball, as well as performing for a rather large and
extremely attentive female audience all combined to give him a
very passable ejaculation.

-=o=-

During the rest of the week, Helen and the other girls wasted no
time demonstrating to Julia how they masturbated Ken themselves.
Julia picked up on what they had to teach her rather well, but
she didn't quite have the skills that the older girls possessed.
Although she could masturbate Ken with a rubber ball, she didn't
have the feel for getting him close to the edge, and usually let
him come too soon. She had no problem making him ejaculate into
her bathing cap, but bathing cap masturbation was more of a
girl's private pleasure. It was not as much as a spectator sport
as other masturbation methods.

Therefore, Julia was encouraged to concentrate on her sneakering
techniques. To provide her with more variety, Helen invented two
new ways to make Ken come on rubber. The first method was called
the total control method since the girl had total control over
the penis. The girl takes one of her sneakers in her right hand
and places it sole up with the working rubber under the head of
the penis. She takes her other sneaker and places it sole down on
top of the penis so that the outsole is just behind the head. She
then takes her "penis sandwich" and moves the lower sneaker back
and forth in a girl to boy motion while moving the top sneaker
from side to side. The net result is a circular rubbing motion
which no penis can resist. The girl can cause an ejaculation
within two minutes at the exact moment she desires. This method
is so easy and so much fun for the girls to use that when they
talked about "sneakering a boy off" this is the method they refer
to.

Helen also found another amusing way to masturbate Ken with
sneakers. She got the idea from watching Judy masturbate Ken with
her feet. Judy had Ken and she sit on chairs facing one another.
Ken's legs would be spread apart, and Judy would place the balls
of her feet on his penis and pump it from foot to foot. She
enjoyed the feel of his warm ejaculate on her feet, and loved to
wiggle her toes in it. The rest of the girls preferred to stay
clean, and did the same thing wearing sneakers.

The nice thing about masturbating a boy this way is that the girl
didn't have to concentrate on the penis as much as with other
methods. She could sit back and enjoy watching the boy's reaction
as she manipulated his organ with her feet. It was just like
doing it and watching it at the same time. Although this method
wasn't as fast and efficient as the total control method, it had
its own pleasures. The boy was still under the total domination
of a girl, literally coming at her feet.


-=o=-

Making of a Mistress
Chapter 10
Kathy

Julia eventually went off to start her own "girls club" using the
boy she had been playing with all along. Meanwhile, Susan, Judy,
and Helen kept Ken's penis pumping well into their teen years.
During this period, there were several other girls which joined
the group temporarily. Each one of them brought her experience
with her, and taught the other girls new things. One of the most
memorable of these was Kathy.

Kathy lived with her parents and, up to a couple of years ago,
her 18-year-old uncle, Jim. Since both of her parents worked, and
Jim, likeable as he was, seemed to have no intention of doing so,
she spent a lot of time with him. He had been her playmate since
she was a ***********, and always watched out for her. He took
her for ice cream, to the movies, helped her with homework and
entertained her at home. He was a friendly person, and easy
going. She always felt comfortable with him, and got along with
him just fine. She enjoyed playing games with him, even when it
got physical involving wrestling and tickling.

Kathy couldn't tell when these games turned from fun to petting.
It all happened so gradually. She was accustomed to Jim touching
her anywhere, and as long as she was dressed, she didn't mind. As
a matter of fact, some of the places he was touching her made her
feel good. She really liked the way he gave her massages.

Naturally, Kathy wanted to reciprocate, and she noticed the
bulging at his crotch whenever she started to play with him. She
felt no shame rubbing his cock through his clothing, and wondered
why there would be "wet" spots when she was finished.

Kathy definitely remembers her first view of his penis. She had
impishly woke him up one morning, which was a signal for them to
start playing. At this point, he was wearing his pajamas, and his
penis slipped out. She got back and stared at it for a while, and
when he didn't make an effort to put it back in, continued
playing. Somehow in the course of the game, his pajama tops came
off, so he wrestled hers off. The bottoms came off shortly
thereafter, and they engaged in a game of slapping at each
other's behinds.

Kathy actually enjoyed the game, and would visit Jim's bedroom
every weekday morning. It wasn't long before Jim found himself on
top of Kathy and rubbing his penis against the opening of her
vagina. Initially, there was no penetration, and Jim would kneel
straddling her body and jerk off aiming his come at her box. When
Jim finally decided to have intercourse with Kathy, he was very
gentle, and penetrated slowly. One the first attempt, he didn't
even stroke. He just eased it in all the way gradually, left it
there for a couple of minutes, slowly pulled it out, and
masturbated. He then went down on her, and she really liked that.
He finished off by masturbating again.

Regular intercourse soon became a ritual with them, and Kathy
insisted on being satisfied orally before she would let Jim in
her. She became hungry for sex, and would tease him when he
couldn't respond by wearing revealing blouses and short skirts.
Her eleven-year-old body wasn't fully developed, but she knew how
to make the seductive looks and gestures to make his cock swell.

She and Jim had regular sex until she was thirteen. That's when
her parents caught on. Uncle Jim was evicted immediately, and her
parents were too embarrassed to talk to her about it. It would
have been very hard for her to explain that she was the
instigator demanding Jim to have sex with her. After Jim, she
tried to make it with other boys, but she found f******n- to
sixteen-year-old boys too immature for her likes. They came too
fast, and they didn't want to go down on her.

It wasn't until she joined the group, that Ken got to see any of
the girls even partially undressed. It all started out with Kathy
teaching the girls how much fun cunnilingus is. Each of the girls
also got to experience intercourse with Ken, and Kathy taught the
girls a variety of positions.

Although most of the girls sexual activities with Ken were
"public" affairs (that is, many girls to one boy), the
intercourse sessions were private. Each girl had Ken all to
herself for the whole day.

Susan used her days to feel him come, so she tickled him up, and
put him in the bag while she straddled his face. After Ken
brought her to several orgasms by his tongue, she would remove
the bathing cap, and start him on the ball. She would wait until
she was a lick or two away from another orgasm, and he was a
stroke or two away from erupting to turn and ride him for a short
but intense bout of fucking. He came with the same vigor inside
her body as he did when she masturbated him with the ball. She
could feel every hot, pulsating gush inside her body.

Judy, on the other hand, took a more playful approach keeping in
line with her love of foot care. She took a pair of her sneakers
which needed washing anyway and gave them to Ken to hump the
insides. After Ken filled the first sneaker, she'd give him a
short rest and put him to work pumping his prick in the other
one.

As soon as he recovered, she put him on the ball for two more
ejaculations aiming his come into her sneakers. It took her all
morning to get him to come twice in each of her tennis shoes, but
by the time he was done, she had pools of his steamy white liquid
all over the insides. This is exactly what she wanted as she
would slip them on and lace them tightly on her feet. She enjoyed
the feel his come squishing around her toes and all over her feet
for the rest of the day.

By this time, Ken was pumped totally dry and she was sure that he
was incapable of having another orgasm. Now she was ready to ride
him long and hard. She would have him mount her and fuck the rest
of the afternoon away. Finally, before dismissing him, she would
take off her sneakers and make Ken lick her feet clean, and suck
out as much of his come from her sneakers as he could before
allowing him to wash them in the sink.

Helen remained a virgin for all practical purposes. She did try
intercourse several times, but mostly she enjoyed the feel of his
tongue on her clitoris. She would straddle his face in the
"female superior" position which would give her the access she
needed to make him come in every imaginable way as he serviced
her. She considered that sex should be a discipline for Ken, and
although she caused him to have a number of involuntary orgasms,
she made sure that he was tired and drained after the ordeal.

The most satisfying part of the ritual for her was to pee in his
face and force him to continue lapping. She even resorted to
drinking plenty of fluids prior to force feeding Ken her cunt.
Helen urged the other girls piss on Ken's face whenever they
played with him.

This was the one activity added to the girl's "public" shows. It
was quick and easy for the girls to do, usually didn't interrupt
the flow of play, and Helen liked watching the girls give Ken a
golden shower as well as giving him one.

Kathy simply wanted to fuck, fuck, fuck continuously. She
couldn't see wasting a good erection on a rubber ball, a pair of
sneakers or a bathing cap.


-=o=-

Making of a Mistress
Chapter 11
The Girl's Club

Word got around to the boys at school that there was a group of
girls that "did it". This rumor was supported by hints and nods
of the girls themselves since they knew that they needed more
boys to go around.

Each girl was trained in discipline, and taught to support her
sisters. Each girl was taught the significance of being a female
and not being dominated by a specific part of her body. Each girl
was taught not only how to control a boy's penis, but that this
control meant that she controlled the boy himself. The girls
agreed that none of them would go off on her own, and that any
boy who wanted membership in the group would be shared by all of
the girls. They even agreed on the procedures for inducting a boy
into the group.

The boy had to be sponsored by a girl, and he had to pass several
tests to gain membership. He was first presented to a board of
mistresses by his sponsor. The boy could not speak to the board
directly and would stand silently by as his sponsor would speak
on his behalf. The boy was only allowed to speak if asked a
direct question and then he could only answer through his sponsor
who would act as mediator between the board and the boy.

First of all, the board explained that any boy joining the club
would have to accept the authority of the girls. The sponsor
explained to her candidate that the club was established for the
benefit of the girls, and that their pleasure was to be satisfied
before any consideration of the male members was to be given.

It was made quite clear that any boy must be willing to submit to
the rules given him by the board of mistresses. Boys were subject
to the girls' rules even when not engaged in club activity. In
short, any boy was required to obey any girl at any time and in
any place. The girls knew that although most boys were desperate
enough to agree to these terms in hopes of having some sexual
fun, few were really willing to commit to them, so they devised a
series of entrance tests.

The girls told their candidates that they only wanted boys who
were "man enough" to pass their tests. The first of these tests
was to get a sperm sample. This was usually done at the same time
as when the boy was introduced to the mistresses. The sponsor
would be given a bathing cap with instructions to milk her
candidate. This first step was allowed to be done in private, so
the girl could take her boy into the bathroom where she could
collect the sample. Almost every boy was willing to undress for a
specific girl. Some girls would play with their boys French
kissing them, and allowing them to rub up against their bodies,
others got right down to business and simply masturbated their
boys. It didn't really matter since the mistresses really didn't
care how much the boy pumped out. They measured it as a matter of
interest, but they were more interested in the boy placing
himself at the control of at least one girl.

The next test, given a day or two later, was to see how fast the
boy could come. This step had to be witnessed, so the sponsor,
and one of the mistresses would go into the bathroom with the
boy. There, the sponsor would sneaker him off while the other
girl timed the event. The girls lost quite a few boys at this
point and a few more had difficulty getting it off before their
girl with another female looking on. Again, performance was a
secondary factor. The boy's willingness to submit to more than
one female, and the introduction of female dominated group sex
play was being tested here.

The third test was reported as being a shooting distance test.
The real test was whether the boy was totally submissive to the
girls. In the previous two tests, there was an air of privacy:
the boy exposed himself in the bathroom in the presence of
selected girls. The third test took place in front of the general
assembly. During this test, the boy was put on the ball by his
sponsor. She was required to play him for at least 15 minutes
before allowing him to come. Again, some girls took real pride in
their handiwork, and wouldn't be satisfied with anything less
than having the boy beg to be allowed to come. Boys willing to
perform for such a large female audience were passed onto the
initiation ceremony.

At the initiation, the boy was again presented to the board of
mistresses. He was ordered to strip completely naked, and his
clothes were taken from him. He was to stand at attention while
the girls played with him and took pictures of him. Finally the
boy was told to "get it up". Eventually all of the boys were
taught how to "stiffen up" on command, but at this stage of the
game some boys simply couldn't get an erection so one would be
induced with a pair of sneakers. Other boys had a hard-on as soon
as a female set of eyes viewed their cocks. It was at the
initiation that the vital measurements were made.

The boy was told that the first test measured "how much", the
second test measured "how fast", and the third test measured "how
far". His next test would measure "how often".

First, the boy was then put on the ball by the group's best
teaser. For a long time, the girls had the services of a
heavy-set, f******n-year-old black girl named Louise. Louise was
an masturbation artist. She did an excellent job teasing cock
with a rubber ball. The girls didn't have to see the boy's
swollen, red cock to know she was doing her job. She had every
one of her boys breaking out in cold sweats within a couple of
minutes. Within five minutes, she had him moaning and pleading
for relief. Some boys actually started crying. The girls really
enjoyed how with gentle finger and wrist motion with the ball,
she could bring a boy under her total domination in such a short
time.

Louise didn't let them come, however. She knew her job was done
once the hormones kicked in. She knew that once a boy started
down the road towards an ejaculation he was hopelessly enslaved
by his penis and would be willing to do anything for relief. It
was a condition of this relief that he was required to bring each
of the mistresses to orgasm with his tongue. The girls had him
"in the bag" so as to maintain his heightened arousal, and would
occasionally finger the bathing cap to keep him as close to
orgasm as possible. After satisfying each of the girls, the girls
would engage in a marathon sneakering session.

A boy almost always thanked the first girl to masturbate him to
relief. He became increasingly less grateful as each girl took
her turn making him come on her sneakers. It was when he failed
to say "thank you" to a girl for the privilege of being
masturbated by her that one of the girls would grab his balls and
twist them hard. After that, the boy learned to thank the girl
for any masturbation she performed on him or for the pleasure of
eating her out.

As part of the final ceremony, the boy was issued his first pair
of panties. He was required to get, on his own, different color
panties for each day of the week, and wear one at all times. This
meant that the boys were subject to inspection by the girls
anywhere at any time. For example, a girl could have a boy pull
out his shirt tail in the school hallway so she could check to
see if he were wearing the proper color panties. More often, the
boy was told to report some place private and "drop 'em" for
several girls.

It was also at the final ceremony that the boy was introduced to
the rules he really had to live by. From that moment on, he was
required to memorize the 10 commandments of the sorority and
recite them on command:

1. I am male. I am inferior to female.

2. I am a slave to my penis. My penis belongs to my mistress. My
mistress controls my penis. She controls me.

3. I renounce the sexual bondage imposed by my malehood. My
highest aspiration is to be female. I put total faith in my
mistress to teach me to be feminine.

4. My mistress is my sole source of sexual pleasure. I must serve
her and all those females she asks me to serve.

5. I lack the discipline attain orgasm by myself. Only under the
discipline of my mistress will I know true pleasure.

6. I exist to provide pleasure for my mistress. I can expect no
wants of my own to be fulfilled except at her desire.

7. My mistress' body is sacred, only with my tongue and at her
bidding will I touch it. My body is hers to do with as she
pleases.

8. I have no secrets. As I stand naked before my mistress in
body, I must also stand naked before her in mind. I must confess
to her my deepest fantasies.

9. There is no thought I can think unless it be to honor my
mistress. There is no word I can speak unless it be to praise
her. There is no action I can take unless it be to please her.

10. I am not female. Until I have the courage to become one, I
must serve all those who are.

As further proof of his commitment to rule #10, if the boy had a
sister, he was required to bring her along to one of the meetings
so she could see the type of activities her brother was in to,
and support it at home. Boys also got special consideration if
they brought in new members (male or female).

Although the group had many different girls and boys "pass
through" it, it's highest participation was ten mistresses and
six male slaves.

The group had an interesting composition. Most of the boys were
confident in their "public" life. They didn't seem to be whimps.
True whimps would not have made it through the initiation
ceremonies.

The girls represented a thorough cross section of female
population of the school. Helen represented the "most likely to
succeed" image while most of the other girls were average, and a
few could be considered timid, shy or "mousy". The girls all had
one thing in common, however. They were frustrated by the fact
the external world favored boys, and they were willing to do
something about it, some more forcefully than others.

Each boy was at the disposal of any girl in the group. The group
had sessions with all of the girls assembled sitting on a circle
of chairs with their panties off. The boys knelt in front of
them, eating them out. At the appointed interval, the boys would
shift to the next girl, and eat her out. There were some days
when they would spend hours doing this. The girls rewarded good
performance with masturbation, and in exceptional cases,
intercourse.

Having just two boys was more than twice the fun of one boy. The
girls set up contests. The most primitive of these contests were
simple jerk off sessions among the boys to see which one could
bring himself to orgasm first. From there it was easy to progress
to contests in which the girls did the masturbating, and the boys
did the coming. The girls used just about every one of the
masturbation techniques during these games . There was a certain
social prominence to being "top sneaker", or shooting a boy the
farthest by putting him on the ball.

The girls also devised tests to see which brand of sneakers
worked best for a particular masturbation style, or which rubber
balls produced the best shooting distance.

In keeping with the spirit that male masturbation was a female
spectator sport as well as a participatory sport, the girls also
devised contests in which the boys masturbated each other.

At first, they merely had the boys mimic the girls by having them
use rubber balls, bathing caps and sneakers on one another.
Sometimes, they would even dress the boys up in girl's clothing
and have them role play a skit for them.

Another favorite game of the girls had the boys play for them was
a cock sucking contest. The two boys would be bound into a 69
position. The object of this game was to make your opponent come
before you. Therefore, boys engaged in this activity would lick,
swirl their tongues around, and suck and nibble with great gusto.
After coming, the winner swaps his load (mouth to mouth) with the
loser, and the loser is required to swallow. The loser then gets
to be the recipient of anal intercourse by the winner.

The best of the "Penis Performances" involved a type of
masturbation that took both girls and boys to accomplish.

To prepare for the "cock fight" each boy had a "pit crew" of
girls in attendance to prepare him for the event. To assure that
all boys competing in the event started in an equal state of
sexual excitement, the girls would tickle each contestant up, put
him on the ball for several minutes, and then put him in the bag
for about five minutes.

The boys would be brought together face to face. Each
"contestant" was under the control of two girls: a "spitter", and
a "rubber". The "spitter" provided saliva to the contest to keep
her cock lubricated as the "rubber" rubbed her boy's penis
against the other girls' penis. At the word, "Go!", the girls
would whip off the rubber bathing cap, and start stroking the
head of their opponent's cock with their own. The object of the
game is to make the other girls' boy come first. The losing boy
had to kneel down and lick his own ejaculate off his opponent's
penis. The winner was usually rewarded by being allowed the honor
to pick the girl and the method for his next masturbation.

The girls also timed these events. Most of the time, a cock fight
would only last 5 to 10 minutes, in some cases, however, the boys
would go on for an hour requiring a "crew change" among the
girls.

When a boy was drummed out for unsatisfactory performance, it
involved a ritual designed to be totally demeaning. He had to
submit to an endless succession of girls straddling his face
while another girl teased his cock. He was not allowed to come
even though they made sure his penis was raw for several days.

-
-=o=-

Making of a Mistress
Chapter 12
THE WOMEN'S CLUB

Throughout all of the Girls experiences, Judy kept touch with her
sister, Lisa, concerning her relationship with boys. When the
Girls turned 17, Lisa provided them with false ID, and invited
them out to a male strip club. She was pleased with their
reaction. Lisa then questioned the Girls at length concerning
their activities and asked some very detailed questions. She
asked if she could be included in on some of their masturbation
sessions with Ken to learn what her "k** sister" had to show her.

Susan and Judy were glad to have her participate, and made the
appointment for the following week. Lisa seemed proud of her
sister's accomplishments, and learned very quickly all that she
was shown. The younger Girls noticed the confidence and firmness
in which she ordered Ken around. They could tell that she was far
more advanced then they at this game.

Lisa said that she would like to return the favor, and invited
the Girls to spend a week at her house the following month during
their spring break from school. She said nothing except that she
had a surprise for them, and to make sure that they bring their
gear.

Lisa picked up the Girls at the bus station, and drove them to
her house. The Girls noticed, as they approached the house, that
it was neatly kept, and they wondered how such a busy
businesswoman could keep it so orderly. Their answer came as soon
as they opened the door and met Laura.

Laura appeared to be a very attractive young lady dressed in a
maid's uniform. If it weren't for the penis sticking out of the
skirt, she would have looked completely feminine. Before the
Girls could ask, Lisa introduced them.

In the course of subsequent conversation it came out that Larry
(Laura's real name, though that was seldom remembered) was a
business executive in Lisa's office. Laura couldn't take the
pressure of being in charge of a large section and having to make
decisions all the time. Larry once considered himself a "ladies
man," but that soon gave way when stress induced impotence set
in.

That's when Lisa came into his life. Larry confessed to her his
problem and she was very understanding. He felt secure taking her
into his confidence, and knew that normal sex between them was
out of the question. When Lisa asked him if he had ever
experimented with bondage and discipline, he indicated that he
was horrified at the idea of giving up control. Lisa convinced
him that he didn't have to give up control, he simply had to give
up mistrusting others.

Lisa impressed upon him that he needed the responsibilities of
his life removed from his shoulders and placed in the hands of
someone he could trust. She started with some very simple therapy
techniques such allowing him to trust her to catch him as he fell
back into her arms, or blindfolding him and leading him around
obstacles. Eventually, this led to bondage where he had to depend
upon her for basic needs. At first, it was a matter of Larry
trusting his friend Lisa, eventually it escalated to a sexual
situation.

After six months under Lisa's "care", Larry was willing to take
the big leap of faith and relinquish the control of his sex life
to her. He felt relieved not to have to be in charge of
everything all of the time. It felt so good, that he accepted
Lisa's suggestion to go "all the way". Lisa was willing to take
control of his life and relieve him of the pressures of having to
live up to the masculine expectations of virility. Larry felt so
comfortable with this arrangement, that he expressed his deepest
and most secret fantasies to Lisa as she suggested he do. With
that burden removed, his sexual potency returned. Larry quit the
"day job", moved in with Lisa, transferred all his worldly
possessions to her, gave up his masculine clothing, and became
Laura.

Lisa instructed the Girls to address Laura as a female, and to
continue that train of thought as long as they were there. The
Girls had no problem with this, yet it still took some time
before they stopped giggling when referring to "her" penis or
"her" testicles.

Lisa had Laura prepare the three "Women" drinks. (Laura was
simply addressed as "Girl") and relaxed as Laura took her
position behind her mistress rubbing her shoulders. Lisa
apologized for being such a poor hostess and had Laura perform
cunnilingus on Susan. She told Judy to slip off her sneakers and
that Laura would be at her command as soon as she finished with
Susan.

Susan was amazed at the delicate, yet stimulating treatment her
clitoris was getting from Laura's tongue. She had never been
eaten out so skillfully! After giving Susan several orgasms, Lisa
directed Laura to service Judy. Judy had to admit that even with
all the experience Ken had, he had never been able to "make love"
to her feet as well as Laura. Laura had just the right
combination of licking, sucking, nibbling, and flicking to send
ticklish shivers from Judy's feet, up her legs, into her spine,
and cause her mind to drift peacefully. This condition caused her
"love juices" to flow almost as freely as if she were
masturbating.

When the Girls talked to Lisa about Laura's special talents, Lisa
admitted that Laura was "trained by the best".

As Laura was servicing her two guests, Lisa explained that the
reason she wanted to know so much about how they played with boys
was for Laura's sake. She said that Laura was a faithful and
loyal servant, and a good Girl. She wanted to provide a means of
rewarding her. Allowing her to jerk off while being humiliated
wasn't enough. Yet, Lisa wanted something easy. She said that
there was no sense to being a dominatrix if you had to work at
it.

-=o=-

Lisa also told them about "the club". She knew a Woman, Miriam,
who ran a health club. During the day, it was a normal aerobics,
racquetball, and swim club. On the third Wednesday night of each
month, there would be an "executive board meeting" which
consisted of dominant Women and their submissive males. The Women
would meet to exchange ideas, and to humiliate their males in
front of a large female audience. Lisa said that what Judy and
Susan had to show would be of great interest to the club. The
Women were always interested in looking at new methods to impose
disciple and humiliation upon the penis bearers. Therefore, if
the play involved actual penis play -- so much the better.

Lisa had Judy and Susan work with Laura. Laura had to be taught
what to expect, and the Girls had to experiment with putting her
on the ball. Putting a boy on the ball isn't all that difficult
if the objective is merely to get him to come. The Girls learned
that each boy is different, and if a Girl wanted to bring him to
the edge of pleasurable pain, and get a good ejaculation from
him, she had to know how to "read him". It took the Girls several
attempts until they had Laura's "flash point" figured out.

On the day of the big event, the Girls kept Laura well teased
throughout the day. They frequently brought her to the edge of
orgasm and kept her in the bag most of the day. She even arrived
at the club in the bag even though it made her pants bulge more
than usual. (Going to the club gave her a hard on anyway -- males
at the club were expected to have a hard on at all times unless
ordered not to have one by a mistress).

When they arrived, there were already several naked males on the
aerobics floor as Women dressed in their outfits looked them
over. Susan and Judy took Laura to the men's locker room where
they shaved off her day's growth of pubic hair, and excited her
once more before taking her out on the floor. Susan used the ball
to excite Laura to precome level and to spread the liquid over
her penis. It gave her penis that wet sheen which made it look
better on display. A dry penis isn't as appealing.

The club ran an auction to raise funds. Women would put their
male's services for the night up for bids, and the club would get
part of the take. The auction provided extra money for the club
which it used to run special affairs and buy special equipment.
In addition to the extra money, the Women got to experience
dominating a variety of males as well as getting the opportunity
to watch their males be dominated by other Women.

On the block, when they walked in, was a very fine specimen of
malehood. He was an instructor at the club and had a large, hard
body and penis to match. He was taken by a pair of younger Women
(a secretary and a teacher's aid) and was led off by his new
mistresses for the evening to some other part of the club.
Several other males were sold in the same fashion.

The next event was a presentation of a short program. At each
meeting, a different Woman was designated to provide the program
for the next meeting. Typical program agendas usually consisted
of a demonstration of some new discipline technique, or a new sex
toy product. In rare instances, several Women would "pool" their
males to provide a skit where the males humiliated one another.

Tonight, it was Lisa's turn. The event was well covered in the
group's bulletin. Miriam had informed the group well ahead of
time of Lisa's sister and her "cousin" from out of town, and the
act was well played up before the evening's events. The Women
were looking forward to a good presentation since Lisa was noted
for her ingenuity, and Laura always gave a crowd-pleasing
performance.

Lisa had arranged to have other males participate since she
realized that there was a lot of ejaculating to do, and that
Laura couldn't do it all. Their first "volunteer" was an
18-year-old boy, donated by his mother who had raised him to
serve her and her two teenaged daughters since he was a little
boy. The Girls were glad to have him since a young stud was good
for multiple ejaculations.

Susan and Judy led off with a demonstration using bathing caps.
Most of the Women knew of a bathing cap's use as a masturbation
device, but they didn't realize how effective putting a male in
the bag could be. They never considered the use for different
styles of caps made from different types of rubber. The Girls
reawakened their interest in this old girl's toy. Miriam had to
open up the pro shop to sell some new bathing caps on the spot.
One of the Women went around collecting semen samples in her cap
so her male could taste it all.

The girls followed up with the various sneakering techniques.
They borrowed three more males from the audience and soon, Lisa,
Susan and Judy had a three ring circus going demonstrating each
of the sneaker masturbations simultaneously. The audience
applauded their approval and a barrage of questions opened up.
Susan and Judy had to stop the demonstration and give some
pointers. They pulled out several pairs of extra sneakers from
their gym bags to show the Women what they were looking for in a
sneaker.

The Women were quite envious of Susan, Judy and Lisa for being
prepared with Keds style sneakers as they demonstrated the
various methods of using them. In the following weeks, more Women
showed up wearing Keds instead of their normal aerobics or
running shoes. Both Susan and Judy lent their spare sneakers to
Women who wanted to try out the new techniques that very night.

The demonstration using the rubber ball was the grand finale. The
Women in the audience could plainly see the sexual tension in
every muscle in Laura's body. With all of the foreplay throughout
the day, it took nearly no time at all for Judy to have Laura at
her absolute limit of sanity, and she was drooling precome in a
steady stream. When Judy let the dam break, the gush of come drew
"ahs" from the crowd. Off went some of the Women for their
lockers or the pro shop, and they came back with racquetballs.
Judy, Susan, and Lisa were kept quite busy for a while as Women
brought their males by to learn the technique "first hand".

-=o=-

As the program was in progress, the Girls noticed a Woman using a
video camera to record all that was going on. When they finally
got free, Laura took them to meet her. She was introduced simply
as Mary.

Mary said she was a professor of sociology at the local
university. She was also the leader of a feminist group at the
university, and taught several sanctioned courses on feminism. In
addition to the sanctioned courses, she was also allowed to
conduct no-credit classes. One of these classes was entitled
"Pornography and Feminism", and the catalog warned that
pornographic films would be shown and discussed. Mary convinced
the authorities that, due to the sensitive nature of the topic,
and Women's reluctance to speak freely about it, that the classes
be restricted to females only.

The classes concentrated on the effects of pornography and how it
degrades Women. Mary presented many facts concerning the male
dominated pornography industry, and how young Women are attracted
to participate through exploitation. She started by showing some
rather mild erotica, and worked her way towards "harder"
pornography. At each point, she played on the growing anti-male
sentiment of her female audience.

When the course was over, she picked some of her most promising
students, and asked them if they would like to see "reverse
pornography". That is, pornography produced by Women degrading
men. She usually got a good response. When she showed the films
she, herself, took, there were cheers in the crowd. Her students
enjoyed the films, and almost every one came back for the weekly
showings. She encouraged her proteges to discuss what they viewed
with their boyfriends and solicited reaction.

Some of her students were surprised when they didn't get a
disgusted response from their boyfriends. Mary worked closely
with these young Women. She had the most responsive girls bring
their boyfriends to a private showing. This was one class where
the males were uncomfortable, and the females were outspoken. She
told the couples to go home and discuss what they had seen. She
told the Girls to come back and report the results of the
discussion.

There were always one or two students who admitted that they not
only discussed the film, but tried some of the things presented
in the films. Mary was usually persuasive enough to have the
males come back to the next group showing to demonstrate. She was
not only interested in the Women's reaction to "live"
entertainment, but she was also interested in watching the
dynamics of males viewing other males being dominated by Women.

The university also had a fertility clinic associated with it.
There, Mary ran into Hal. Hal was a closet homosexual who had a
private camera setup to observe males donating sperm for
research. Mary threatened to expose him if he didn't give her a
copy of his tapes. In exchange, she also gave him some of the
club's surplus "toys". Mary had hours of tape showing hundreds of
males demonstrating their favorite masturbation techniques.

Mary found it interesting that almost all of the males used
"jerking off" (or some closely related technique) to masturbate.
Yet when she asked a limited sample of males how they learned how
to do this, most of them claimed to have learned it
spontaneously. A few learned by watching other boys or by having
other boys perform it on them, and one confessed that his sister
taught him how to do it. Almost every male on the tape did a
"solo act" usually while looking at or reading some erotic
material. A couple of males, however, were assisted by
rubber-gloved Women. One of these performed while licking his
female partner's feet.

Most of the males in the film were healthy young men, who were
instructed to abstain from sex for at least 72 hours before
reporting. Therefore, Mary got many shots of great ejaculations.
She also found that Women enjoyed watching these tapes almost as
much as those featuring female domination.

Although Mary's classes had a high attrition rate, she usually
had one or two Women with the courage to be open dominatrixes.
For each one of these, she estimated she had five to ten "closet
dominatrixes". Mary was also the club's leading recruiter and
supplier of penises.

-=o=-

Finally, Susan and Judy were left alone long enough for Lisa to
show the Girls around a little. In the free weight room, they
came across the stud bought at the auction. He was on his back on
a bench with his arms and legs tied under the seat as he was
being ridden by the teacher while the secretary was giving him
dictation with her pussy straddling his face.

Out on the nautilus floor, one of the Women was in a leg exercise
machine which held her legs apart as her male plaything for the
evening knelt before her pushing his tongue through the specially
installed seam in her crotch.

In one of the racquetball courts, two Women were practicing their
serves as their male knelt against the wall with his buttocks
towards them. His rear end already had several red circles from
where his mistress or her partner had driven her ball on serve.

In the tournament court (the one with the big glass wall and
spectator section set up behind it), several Women watched two
males being choreographed by their dominatrix du jour through a
number of homosexual acts.

Everywhere Susan and Judy went, they saw Women in total control
of males. They never realized how widespread the practice was,
and they could plainly see how well some of the Women have
practiced the art. One of the older Women they talked to claimed
to have decades of experience. She said that as long as she had
been a dominatrix, she never got tired of doing it. She never
lacked for males since the number of men needing to be dominated
greatly exceeds the number of females willing to dominate them.
The challenge was to convert those that needed to be dominated
into those who wanted to be dominated. Even with these odds,
there wasn't any reason any Woman shouldn't have an entourage of
male slaves. She was amazed at the number of males who are
willing to submit to hours of humiliating servitude to a Woman in
exchange for seconds of ejaculatory pleasure. She said that it
kept her mind sharp thinking of new ways to humiliate males and
have them provide her pleasure.


-=o=-

Making of a Mistress
Chapter 13
MARITAL ASSISTANCE

It is not surprising at all that Susan married a man who she knew
would accept her past life. Although Don never knew Susan when
she was the "rubber queen" in her town, he knew of her exploits
before marrying her. Susan didn't dominate Don although he
appreciated her aggressiveness, and although he didn't have an
inborn rubber fetish, he readily accept Susan's masturbation of
him using rubber.

Don and Susan became friendly with a slightly younger couple,
Sandy and her husband, Chuck. Don and Chuck worked for the same
company which had an overseas contract. This meant that they
often went on long business trips together. When the men were
gone, the women got together to play bridge with other women
whose husbands also traveled a lot.

As often happens in these sessions, the talk included sex. The
women were different than the men in this regard. Although they
talked about sex, they usually refrained from graphic
descriptions. However, they normally gave enough information to
know who was doing what.

The other difference was that they usually talked about their
spouses' performances rather than their own, and didn't
exaggerate.

>From these sessions, Susan learned that Chuck had a sexual
problem. Although he could get an erection and keep it almost
indefinitely, he had a very difficult time ejaculating. Most of
the women jokingly remarked that they wish their husbands had
that problem, but they were really sympathetic. They knew that
Sandy loved Chuck very much and wanted to please him sexually.

Sandy explained that she tried to hang in there during
intercourse, and used to have an orgasm or two, but most of the
time she became sore waiting for Chuck to have his. She loved
feeling him ejaculate inside her, but that didn't happen too
often. Eventually she stopped having orgasms. She felt inadequate
as a woman.

Some of the other women suggested fellatio, but Sandy's strict
Catholic upbringing made that a non-choice. She couldn't overcome
the twelve years of nuns, and even if she could, she found the
thought of oral sex by either partner disgusting despite the
reassurances of some of the other women. Likewise, she couldn't
find an advocate for anal sex in that room even if she could
consider the idea herself.

She confessed that she knew that Chuck jerked off. In fact, she
convinced him to let her watch. She wanted to be a part of his
sexual pleasure even if it was a small part. Although she found
watching him play with himself exciting, she wanted a more active
role. She wanted to make him come herself.

She said she tried to jerk him off herself, but she could never
get it just right. Not that Chuck ever complained, but she
noticed that she didn't get him off as fast as he did, and didn't
get as much semen out of him. Even there she was a failure. More
than once, she caught him masturbating in the bathroom an hour
after jerking him off herself.

None of the other women (except Susan) had experience with giving
their men hand jobs, so they couldn't offer advice. Susan had
something better in mind.

Susan always had to be careful of what she said. She never made a
full disclosure of her previous or current sexual activities to
anyone in her bridge group. Some of them, like Betty, Chuck's
boss' wife, were too old and wouldn't understand. Others, like
Sandy, were young and naive and would be shocked. Yet, the group
knew that there was something special going on between her and
Don.

So she approached the subject carefully, dropped some hints, and
suggested that she had a technique that she used on Don to make
him come when he was hot and she wasn't willing. A lot of ears
picked up at this. There wasn't a woman in the room who didn't
have her period at least once when her husband came home from a
month-long trip.

Susan told them about sneakering. When she first suggested it,
some of the women giggled. Some of them thought it was a joke at
first. Others thought it was kinky. But none of them found it
disgusting. They paid attention as Susan pulled up a chair, asked
them to imagine their man sitting in it, and put her feet on the
edge of the seat. She pumped her sneakers back and forth rubbing
the soles against an imaginary penis.

Susan had the undivided attention of her audience. By the time
she had finished, she had converted the whole group. She was
barraged with questions. She had to explain what part of the sole
to make contact with, how to catch the head of the penis just
right, and what kind of sneakers worked best.

This was a major breakthrough for the group. They were never so
overtly sexual before. They usually talked about the relationship
aspect of their sex lives rather than techniques.

Susan never found out if the other women took her advice and put
it to use. However, as they were carpooling home, Sandy had some
more questions. Susan invited her in for coffee. Sandy was
excited about the prospect and really wanted to learn how to do
it, but her sexual confidence was so low she didn't think she
could risk one more failure with Chuck.

Susan suggested that Sandy watch her practice it first on Don.
Sandy was shocked. She told Susan that she wasn't into adultery,
and certainly wasn't into group sex.

Susan did her best to calm her fears. She asked Sandy if she had
ever played with a penis as a ***********. Sandy admitted that
she did. Susan asked her if she had ever done it with another
girl present. Again the answer was yes.

Sandy wanted to know where Susan was going with this line of
questioning, so Susan pointed out that this wasn't really any
different. As a ***********, she was curious about sex. She and
her girlfriend did something about it. It was perfectly natural
and wasn't so much a sexual experience as it was a part of normal
development.

In neither case would there be intercourse, in fact the women
would remain fully clothed. Sneakering is something ***********s
could do, and would do if they knew about it, and neither sex
would feel the worse for it.

Besides, the ends justified the means. Sneakering would lead to a
better sex life with Chuck.

Sandy reluctantly agreed.

-=o=-

Susan discussed the situation with Don who agreed to help. He
admitted that he had a thing for Sandy and enjoyed her company
very much. Besides, he and Chuck were good friends, and he
confided to Susan that Chuck had complained about sex with Sandy.
Susan called Sandy and set up an appointment for the following
Saturday.

Sandy arrived at 10 AM. Susan figured that a mid-morning
appointment would take something out of the sexual tension.
Nobody does sex at 10 AM on a Saturday. Maybe they mow the lawn,
or go to the grocery store, but they don't have sex.

Susan poured Sandy a cup of coffee and started some small talk.
Don came down dressed in a sweatshirt and running pants. He
grabbed a cup of coffee and sat down and joined the conversation.
After about 15 minutes of this, Susan suggested that they get
down to business.

Sandy had a small overnight bag with her in which she packed
every pair of sneakers she owned. She wanted to be sure she had
the right kind. Susan looked at them critically and told Sandy
which ones would work and why. Susan passed each pair to Don who
rubbed his fingers over the soles and nodded his approval. Susan
noticed his conditioned reflex -- a bulge in the running pants at
the appropriate place. They selected a pair and went upstairs.

Sandy felt uneasy as she entered Don and Susan's bedroom. Susan
calmed her again by explaining that they were all consenting
adults, and that this was going to help her sex life.
Nonetheless, Sandy was shaking as Don pulled down his running
pants for the two women. He had nothing on underneath. His
semi-erected cock bobbed out.

Sandy blushed and said it was good that she and Susan could
remain clothed. Susan directed Sandy to a chair where she could
watch the entire procedure.

Susan and Don sat facing each other with Don's legs spread apart,
and Susan with her feet between them. Susan explained to Sandy
how important it was to make sure the sneakers made contact with
the penis properly as she demonstrated the pumping action to get
Don going. She kept this up for several minutes until Don was
excited enough to produce a lot of precome, and then she invited
Sandy to try.

Sandy was reluctant, and tried to back out. She said that
watching was bad enough. She said that she was happily married
and didn't want to cheat on her husband. Susan argued that it was
"purely mechanical". She wasn't doing anything more than a
physical act with her feet. It was no different than donning a
pair of sneakers to go jogging. She didn't even have to get
undressed. She could wear the same clothes she'd wear to keep
house or go to the store. Susan was quick to point out the
advantage of this -- the activity could be spontaneous -- not
preparations were required.

Sandy nervously sat in the seat. She looked at Don who was
leaning on his elbows on the bed. His legs were d****d over the
end with his knees spread wide apart. His penis stood tall
awaiting attention. Sandy took a deep breath, and put her feet up
against it.

With Susan's tutoring, Sandy was able to masturbate Don. She was
extremely slow and timid at the start, but she eventually picked
up the rhythm. She actually squealed with delight as she watched
Don's jets of come splatter against his stomach.

Sandy called Susan the next day and was able to report success
with Chuck. She couldn't tell him where she learned how to do it,
so she tricked him. She and Chuck went for a walk and she
suggested they shower together.

As soon as Chuck got undressed, she faked a cramp in her leg and
asked Chuck to rub it for her. Chuck didn't question why,
although she had removed most of her other clothes, she still had
her sneakers on. He didn't question it as she swung her feet up
into his lap. He didn't question her playfulness at all, he
simply enjoyed it.

Sandy was surprised at how quickly he erected and she was able to
ejaculate him within a couple of minutes. Sandy told Susan that
it was great. She never had sex twice in one day, and here she
made two men come within hours of each other, and she could do it
all over again and again. She could be a sex machine without any
effort at all on her part.

Chuck now asked for this treatment frequently. Sneakers became a
part of their love making, and in the interest of saving time,
and maintaining spontaneity, Sandy made sure she wore a pair as
they made love.

Sneakering was only part of the answer to Sandy's problem. She
and Chuck had agreed to have a baby. This meant, Chuck had to
come inside her body. Susan suggested that if Chuck could get
excited enough just before intercourse, he might be able to come
during intercourse.

Susan explained how to put a man on the ball, but cautioned Sandy
that it took a lot of practice to get the technique just right.
Sandy was never too skillful with her hands, and wasn't sure she
could do it. Susan suggested that she get Don to the ejaculation
point, and then let Sandy take over with intercourse.

This plan would require the cooperation of all of them. Sandy
would have to tell Chuck and Don would probably have to convince
him to go along. Surprisingly, Chuck agreed once the initial
shock wore off. They waited until Sandy's appropriate time of the
month, and set up a session.

The two men had a drink as they watched some X-rated films on the
VCR. They both knew they would have to get naked, so they slipped
off their clothes early. Meanwhile, their wives were getting
ready in an adjacent room. Sandy had told Susan about a fantasy
Chuck had to do it with ***********s, so they both dressed in
***********'s outfits and did their hair in pig tails.

By the time the girls made their entrance, Chuck and Don were
partially erected. Susan went over to Chuck and asked him if she
could play with his penis. Sandy and Don sat down to watch. Susan
took out a rubber ball and went to work. Don knew what she was
doing and could emphathise with what his friend was going
through. His penis shot up as he watched Susan perform on another
man. Sandy noticed his erection, and volunteered to take care of
it. She faced him, and pumped him dry on her sneakers.

Meanwhile, Chuck was being whipped into a sexual frenzy by Susan.
He was just about to come when Susan told Sandy to get on him.
Sandy nearly attacked him on the couch and Don and Susan left
them to it. Susan told Don she still had a vision of Sandy
masturbating him and wanted him more than ever.

Susan, Sandy and their husbands went through this same ritual
several times until Sandy eventually got pregnant.

-=o=-

Susan woke slowly in the embrace of her husband's arms. Both of
them slept in late after an all-night session of fantastic sex.
She listened to his slow breathing and smiled to herself. She was
happy that she could please him so much.

She slowly disengaged herself from him so as not to disturb him.
She put on her robe and padded out to the kitchen to make
breakfast. As she stood at the sink to fill the coffee pot, she
looked out the window. It was late morning and the young spring
sun was already high in the sky. c***dren were already playing in
the street. Across the way, she could see her neighbor's
first-grader playing with another girl from down the block. They
were bouncing a rubber ball back and forth to each other.













Journal




CHAPTER I - THE DEVELOPING TEEN


Hi. I'm Chrissy Parsomes. Many boys like myself got their
start wearing girl's clothes by stumbling into cross dressing by
accident. Many tried on their sister's clothes when the family
was away from the house, or dressed as a girl for a Halloween
masquerade party. My introduction to dressing came in a more
insidious fashion. To make a long story short, my step-mother
decided that she preferred to have a daughter instead of a son,
and in one year, she and her sister converted me from a boy to a
12 year-old girl. Here's how it happened.
For most of my school career, I attended a small, private
school in NYC. My mother was a noted archaeologist, and didn't
spend much time with the family. Most of the time, she spent
months on end, digging in Africa for artifacts. My father was a
mild mannered secretary, and didn't have a lot of parenting
skills. As a result, mom enrolled me in this residential private
school beginning in third grade. I usually saw my parents twice a
year during Christmas and summer vacations.
During the fall of my eighth grade year, my father shocked
the family by announcing that he decided to divorce my mother to
marry Mrs. Locke, his boss at the company. I had met Ms. Locke a
few times when I had to get report cards signed, and knew her to
be a dominant woman whose sickeningly sweet persona seemed to
envelope everyone who came into contact with her. Strange to say,
it almost seemed like she treated everyone like a ************
girl. "Sweetie this", and "honey that", she always commented how
beautiful my eyelashes were, or how attractive my school uniform
looked. Although I didn't relish the thought of having this woman
as a step-mother, I was sort-of excited about the prospect of
being treated in a feminine manner.
Ever since I was ***************, I had harbored secret
desires to live life as a girl. I spent October break of that
year at my paternal grandmother's apartment, since my parents had
been called out of town to a big anthropology convention. She
lived in a big high rise in central Manhattan. Since Halloween
happened to fall on that particular weekend, my grandmother had
accepted an invitation on my behalf to attend a costume party at
one of her neighbor's apartments. When my grandmother indicated
that she didn't have time to get me a costume, her lady friend
told my grandmother that her daughter had some pretty party
dresses that would probably fit me, and that I could come dressed
as a ***********. My grandmother thought this was a great idea,
and borrowed everything that I would need to make the
transformation complete, Pink nylon panties, white lace trimmed
anklets, Mary Jane shoes, rhumba over-panties with ruffles, a
fluffy bouffant slip with a form-fitting elastic top, and a
pretty pink satin party dress with long sheer sleeves and a pink
ribbon sash that tied in the back. Although I was a bit
apprehensive about dressing in the clothes of the opposite sex,
my grandmother convinced me how wonderful it would be. We spent
the whole afternoon before the party playing dress up, complete
with makeup, hair curlers, and fingernail polish. As soon as I
donned the first pair of nylon panties, I knew that I wanted to
be a girl. As a result, I had a great time at the party. I made a
perfect specimen of a ***********, and no one figured out on the
trip over that I was a boy dressed in ***********'s clothing.
Since this dress up session was our little secret, I never told
my mom or dad about it, though the experience remained in the
forefront of my dreams for years after. Soon after, my
grandmother passed away, thus putting an end to any possibility
of wearing girl's clothes in the foreseeable future. When ever
possible, I tried on my mother's panties and slips, but the
experience wasn't the same. My mother was an avowed feminist, and
wore utilitarian cotton underwear. She never wore a bra or
stockings, so I had to make do with what was available. As a
result, I didn't have much of a chance to do anything about my
wishes to learn to be a girl.
Weird things started to happen as soon as I arrived home for
the Christmas break. Mrs. Locke (she refused to give up her
maiden name) refused to allow me to get my usual haircut. She
said that my hair was much too beautiful to cut, and that I
should start to wear it long. She required that I wash and
condition it every day, and keep it neatly styled. Every morning,
she brushed my hair into what to me looked like a girl's style,
and gave it a light coating with hair spray to keep it in place.
Occasionally, she even placed a few curlers in my hair at night
to "help keep the hair out of my eyes." I wanted to object,
because my feminine desires had been a secret between my
grandmother and I, but I had a feeling that her sweet feminine
exterior masked a dislike for males that could make my life
difficult during the coming summer. Wanting to start my
relationship with my step-mom off on the right foot, I acquiesced
to her demands.
Due to my stressful academic life, I had always been a nail
biter. As soon as she noticed me nibbling on my fingers, she
demanded that I stop biting my nails, To help with this new rule,
she began to manicure my nails, and kept them coated with clear
polish "to keep them from chipping." Soon my nails resembled
those of many of the girls in my class. Even my evening attire
changed. Pajamas were out. In their place, I found Lanz flannel
nightgowns to wear (she called them sleep shirts).
Former vacations were spent hanging around with the guys
from the old neighborhood. This vacation however, it seemed like
every minute of the day was spent shopping for girl's clothes for
Mrs. Locke's many nieces, and I often had to hold the pending
purchases while she looked for other items. This was great.
Before, the closest I ever got to girl's clothing was passing
through the department on the way to the boy's section. Now I was
able to closely examine the beginner bras, slips and dresses.
Although I was excited to be able to touch such items again, I
would have died if this had become public knowledge. Therefore it
was very embarrassing to be asked to hold dresses up against my
body, or to choose which color leotard my cousin Nancy would
like. Soon though, it happened so many times that I wasn't even
embarrassed to carry nylon, ruffled panties, tights or slips to
the register for payment.
The worst part of the whole deal came about when she
suddenly took me out of my old boarding school, and registered me
at a place that I had never heard of called the Petite Fille
Academy. Not only did I have to spend my last week of vacation
filling out reams of paperwork, but I also had to go for a
physical exam with the school physician.
After the usual array of questions, followed by the typical
tests that one expects during such an exam, the doctor told my
step-mother that I was suffering from a serious vitamin
deficiency, and that starting immediately, she would have to put
me on a year long, vitamin treatment program. The doctor gave me
an injection right there in the office, and handed my mother a
prescription for vitamins to be filled at the school pharmacy.
The vitamins were unlike anything I had ever seen. They looked
like big purple footballs.
I entered my new school at the end of January, and settled
into a routine not completely different from my old school. The
Petite Fille Academy was a former girls finishing school, that
decided to admit boys. Although a coed school now, most of the
students were girls. The few boys, if you could call them that,
looked like hippies, with long hair, and fair features. Most wore
clothes that looked more like girl's slacks and blouses than boys
pants. No football players, or jocks here. All seemed effeminate
to varying degrees. School uniforms were gray slacks and white
shirts for the boys, and navy blue pleated skirts, white tights,
white shiny blouses and black mary janes for the girls. If it
wasn't for the girl's skirts, I wouldn't be able to tell the
difference between the girls and many of the boys.
Despite my adoption of a routine, the change of scenery
seemed to prompt a similar change in my personality. Despite
taking the vitamins every day, I felt sort of weak, and quite a
bit laid back. I originally missed the fact that PF Academy
lacked soccer, baseball and track, but after three weeks at the
school, I rarely thought about these male activities any more. I
actually began to enjoy the home ec, dance and baton twirling
classes. I was spending a lot of time hanging around with the
girls on my hall, and soon fit in with the group as one of the
girls. Talking about boyfriends, makeup and fashions was much
more interesting than sports, or cars.
Before I knew it, summertime rolled around, and I was
excited about the prospect of seeing all of my old friends back
in New York. Unfortunately, my step mother had other ideas. As
soon as I arrived home, she told me that I was going to spend the
summer at her sister's house in San Francisco, and that I would
be flying out of JFK the next morning.
The next morning, I discovered that Mrs. Locke had already
packed my suitcase, and while she had packed toiletries, a Lanz
nightshirt, and a few other items, she neglected to include all
of my clothes. For some reason, I had gained a lot of weight in
the hips that semester, and nothing seemed to fit. I told my step
mom before I arrived home about this weight gain, and she told me
not to worry. She promised to take me shopping as soon as I got
home. When I asked about the missing clothes, she told me that
since nothing fit, there was no point in carrying clothes on the
plane. My aunt would take me shopping when I arrived in
California.


CHAPTER II - CALIFORNIA CHANGES
When I arrived in California, Ms. Locke's sister picked me
up at the airport. Aunt Clara was the same age and had the same
build as my step mother, but was considerably more domineering. I
quickly learned that she didn't like boys very much, and was only
letting me stay with her to give her sister a break from c***d
care chores. She informed me that she didn't want me hanging
around all summer, so she had already arranged for me to get a
summer job working for a friend of hers. She had already
scheduled an interview during the next afternoon, and warned me
not to blow it. She told me that if I gave her any aggravation, I
might find myself in summer school instead of on vacation.
Needless to say, I wasn't thrilled, but went along with her
demands. I figured a job was a lot better than summer school. I
asked her when we could go shopping for clothes for me to wear,
but she indicated that the shopping trip could wait. Her friend
would provide me with a uniform for work time, and she had a few
things that would fit me in the interim.
The next morning, Aunt Clara took me downtown for my
interview, which happened to be at a Doctor's office. Dr Jennifer
Nelson was a friend of Aunt Clara's and needed someone to do
basic office work, and filing. Although Dr. Nelson kept asking me
a lot of questions about my skills, and experience, I got the
sense that the interview was just a formality. At the end of our
meeting, she offered me the job, and told me to show up tomorrow,
at 9:00 AM sharp. While I was putting on my jacket, Dr. Nelson
told my aunt that she could pick up my uniforms at the Angels of
Mercy uniform shop down the street. Her secretary would take care
of phoning in the style and size information so that the order
would be ready that afternoon.


CHAPTER III - MY NEW UNIFORM
The next morning, my aunt woke me up at 5:00 AM to get me ready
for my first day at work. My aunt told me that she wanted me to
look very attractive for my new boss, and that she had picked up
everything I needed when she paid for the uniforms during the
prior afternoon. After climbing out of my nightshirt, my aunt led
me to a bubbly, lilac scented bath of steaming water. After a
good soak, my aunt washed and conditioned my hair, and then
picked up a pink girl's razor. She told me that the new uniforms
were very expensive and made of a very delicate fabric that would
pull if I didn't have smooth skin. Despite my fantasies of being
a girl, I had never had any part of my body shaved. When I pulled
my legs away from her, she grabbed them and told me that she
didn't spend all that money on clothes to have me ruin them the
first week. Within five minutes, my legs and underarms were
smooth and shiny, and I was out of the tub drying myself with a
fluffy pink towel. When I was dried off, my aunt wrapped my hair
in a towel so she could make it 'look nice' after I got dressed,
hung the wet bath towel over the rod, and stood me on the bath
mat. I began to protest when she grabbed the scented, women's
body powder, but she began dusting me with the sweet smelling
powder anyway. In a tone that indicated that she rapidly losing
patience with me, she said that perspiration would also ruin the
uniform, and that the powder and extra strong deodorant would
help to keep me dry. When I told her that I would prefer straight
baby powder and men's deodorant, she snapped that she wouldn't
waste the money to buy me special toiletries when I was leaving
in three months. Her things would have to do.

She coated my underarms with her deodorant, and told me to
keep my arms up while the feminine lotion dried. She went into
the adjoining bedroom to get what I thought was my only pair of
boy's underpants.
When she returned, I couldn't believe what she held in her
hand. Panties! She walked over to the padded dressing bench
across from the tub in the bathroom, and proceeded to lay out a
brand new pair of nylon girl's panties, a package of shimmery
white tights, a satin girl's vest, and a boxed control brief for
teenagers. I backed up toward the wall, and proceeded to tell her
that there was no way I was going to wear girl's underwear. I
told her that women's toiletries were one thing, but girl's
undies were another.
"I wouldn't be caught dead in clothes like those" I said.
"Well you don't have a choice deary! Dr. Nelson's choice of
uniform material necessitates underthings that are slippery and
shiny to avoid pulls and wrinkles. If you try to wear the uniform
with boy's things, it'll ruin the expensive material. Besides,
you have to interface with the public in your new job, and will
have to look your best. You can't look your best with a wrinkly,
poorly fitting uniform."
"Why couldn't we take it back?" I asked "and exchange it for
more durable material?"
"Because" she glared with her hands on her hips, "Dr. Nelson
picked out the uniform herself, and that is what she wants you to
wear. Besides, it's too late to do anything about it right now.
You have to get to work."
She picked up the white panties, and began removing the
tags. The panties were cut very high on the leg opening, and had
a small, triangular shaped, lace panel on the front. The material
was almost satin-like in quality, and as my Aunt guided my feet
into the openings and slid them up my smooth legs, the soft
material caused my penis to begin to get bigger. "See, that's why
you need to wear a girdle dear" she giggled. "We can't have that
bulging out of your pants." She tucked my penis down between my
legs and finished pulling the panties up to my waist. I thought
that my weight gain would make me difficult to fit, but I
discovered that the panties fit perfectly. Although I was very
embarrassed standing in front of my Aunt in a pair of pretty
panties, I suddenly realized how nice they looked and felt
against the hips, made chubby by the starchy school food. The
high cut leg opening showed a lot of my leg, and the stretchy
satin really made my bottom look....well....pretty. A smile crept
over my face as I surveyed myself in the mirror.
"Enough admiration dear. We have a lot to do."
She led me away from the mirror and over to the bench. I
suddenly noticed something interesting. The stern, domineering
demeanor that initially characterized her attitude that morning
had melted into a doting, mother hen-type personality, that
seemed to increase with every garment that I put on. Instructing
me to put my hands over my head, she picked up the white, satin
vest and lowered it over my clean shaven body. The edges of the
vest were lined with a small, frilly lace, and a shiny bow
adorned the bodice at the neckline. She tucked the end of the
vest into my panties, and sat me down on the bench. She next
picked up the white tights and began removing them from the
package.
Aunt Clara said that shimmery tights were a lot shinier than
plain stockings, which would help keep my uniform nice and new.
She took the white garment from the package, rolled up a leg and
placed the toe over my arched extended foot. She helped me to my
feet, and soon the stretchy top covered my pretty white panties.
"Don't you love the way pretty stockings make your legs look
so shapely? That's why girls wear them dear. You're going to look
fantastic in your uniform."
"Yes Aunty" I replied like some zombie from a late night
horror film. The material did indeed glisten in the light from
the vanity mirror. I felt like I was in a dream world. The sweet
aroma of the bath powder coupled with the soft caresses of my new
underthings took away all of the misgivings I had about dressing
up in front of my aunt. I suddenly looked forward to trying on my
new uniform and joining the ranks of the working world as a young
woman.
"I know you do dear. You just wait to see how much fun we
are going to have in the next couple of months. I know you'll be
happy that you decided to stay with Aunty Clara. Now then, lets
try on your first girdle."
She looked at me with a wry look on her face. "I remember
when my mother bought me my first girdle. Normally girls your age
don't start wearing girdles until they are teenagers. Your only
eleven right?"
I nodded, transfixed by her voice.
"I am sure that your mother wouldn't mind you starting early
though. This is so pretty and will give you such a nice smooth
outline under your uniform. See, it's designed especially for
young teenagers just like you!" She took out the garment, and
handed me the now empty box.
I blushed when I looked at the picture of the teenaged girl
modeling the girdle. She too was wearing stockings, but she also
was wearing lots of makeup and a girl's bra over her young,
developing figure.
The box read:
"The perfect first panty girdle for today's modern teen."
It was written as if the advertising women were talking to a
teen's mother or aunt.
"Helps her stay smooth under all of her fashions. Satin
front panel gives firm support to the just developing figure.
Lycra spandex blend provides cool, comfortable support in school,
at home or out on the town. Ideal for p*****ns just starting to
show."
I giggled nervously.
"Maybe I need to start wearing a bra too?" I looked sweetly
into her eyes as she removed the tags from the girl's girdle.
"Tsk Tsk Tsk. I really don't think you're quite ready for a
bra yet dear. After all, boys don't have much to put into one!"
I suddenly awakened from my dreamy state, and remembered
that I was a boy dressed in panties and tights. I felt very
embarrassed with the comment and tears started coming to my eyes.
"It's ok dear. Don't cry honey." She put her arms around me
and buried my face in the nylon of her lacy blouse.
"All boys would love to do what you are doing, but they just
don't get the chance. I promise that I'll take you shopping for a
bra when you're ready."
Her smile made me relax, even though I couldn't tell if she
was k**ding or being serious. On one hand, I wanted to fantasize
what it would feel like to be the girl on the box, wearing a
satiny training bra. On the other hand, I was a boy, and was
going along with this uniform to stay out of summer school. She
turned to me with the girdle in her hand and lifted my chin.
"Would you someday like to play dress up with Aunty, and wear a
dress like a real girl? Maybe then Aunty can teach you about
makeup, hair styling, slips, and dresses. Would you like that
dear?" Her gaze melted into my heart. I nodded, wiping the tears
from my eyes.
"I'll bet you'd look beautiful in a pretty petticoat and
heels." She dropped my chin and held up the new girdle, and
squatted down next to me. "Anyway, we have to get moving if we're
not going to be late. Step into the legs dear."
I did what I was told, and soon, the tight, elastic garment
was in place covering my male appendage. With the girdle, there
was no bump or bulge to give away the fact that I was a boy in
girl's clothes. Despite the fact that many of the girls in the
upper grades of my school always complained about the girdles
that were mandatory attire for female students over the age of
13, I enjoyed the feeling of security that the garment provided.
My cute buns that suddenly chubbed out during the last year at
school, looked firm and toned under the white elastic. I secretly
hoped that I would be able to wear my new girdle all summer, even
under my boy's clothes.
It was almost as if she read my mind. "Now then. There's
enough underthings in your dresser to carry you for the week.
There's no point in buying any boy's underwear since you will not
have a need for it five days out of seven. You'll have to wear
your panties and vest on weekends. You don't mind do you?"
I was back under her spell. "No ma'am. Can I wear my girdle
too?"
She responded "Of course dear. I didn't buy socks for you so
you'll have to wear tights. Tights stay up so much better with a
girdle. Next summer, you'll be old enough to wear a girdle with
garters and stockings just like Aunty. Besides you have to keep
working on that figure!" She laughed as she led me out into the
bed room. She sat me down on the bed, picked up the dry cleaning
bag, and unzipped the plastic covering. That's when I got my
first look at my uniform.
Dr. Nelson choice was obviously designed for a girl. The
slacks were white polyester like those worn by most nurses. They
zipped and buttoned in the back, and had been tailored to my
waist measurement since there was no elastic in the waistband.
The top was a plain, white polyester blouse, with buttons in the
back. The material was very similar to the nylon on the front of
my panty girdle, all shiny and slippery. My aunt unbuttoned the
blouse, and after helping me into the sleeves, buttoned up the
back. Unfortunately, there was a problem.
"Hmm. This won't do at all. I can see your vest right
through the thin fabric of the blouse, and it looks terrible. The
vest is too clingy. You look like a ***********. I guess you'll
have to borrow one of my camisoles. She left the room, and soon,
returned with a plain nylon camisole with spaghetti straps. Off
came the blouse and vest, and on went the camisole.
"Much better dear" as she buttoned up the blouse again. "For
now you can borrow mine, but this afternoon, I will pick you up a
few at the store."
Next came the slacks, which she helped me pull up over my
hips. When zipped and buttoned, the slacks fit over my chubby
hips like a glove.
"These slacks fit you much better than your boy's jeans. You
have hips just like a teenage girl." She picked up the white
nurses shoes and began lacing them up onto my feet. She noticed
my blushing embarrassed look and took my hand.
"Don't be embarrassed dear. All members of this family have
big hips. There's no real difference between boys jeans and
junior jeans, except in the hip area. You really should wear
what's comfortable. Don't you agree that you do fit better in
these slacks?"
I nodded my head. She stepped behind me and put her hands on
my hips.
"See, they hug your hips smoothly, but also fit your smaller
waist. Boy's jeans are the same width from the hips up. Your own
pants are tight in the hips and baggy in the waist. You even told
me yourself."
She took me by the hand and led me over to her dressing
table. After a bit of hair spray, some work with a curling iron,
and some powder and blush for my cheeks (to absorb oil and
prevent acne she said), she pronounced me ready for work. We
climbed into the car, and drove me to the office promising to
pick me up by 5:00 PM.

CHAPTER IV - FINALLY WORKING
When Dr. Nelson arrived, she immediately complemented me on
my uniform and overall dress. She told me that my aunt had done a
great job with me, and that I looked very professional for my
first day of work. I commented that I thought I looked too
feminine, but she reassured me that all medical office help
dressed this way. She said that it calmed the patients. She even
complemented me on my camisole indicating that it looked more
stylish than girlish.
Soon I was busy at work, greeting patients, sorting files,
and stuffing envelopes with bills. By the end of the day, I had
already become a functional part of the office staff. All of the
secretaries and other nurses agreed that I was a perfect addition
to the office. The good news was that by the end of the day, I
was on a first name basis with everyone. The bad news was that
the chief secretary had introduced me as Chrissy to a patient,
and the name stuck. After trying to straighten out the mistake, I
finally gave in, and started introducing myself as Chrissy.
My regime of vitamin taking continued. By this time, Dr.
Nelson had taken over my therapy, and along with administering
the shots, advised continuation with the pills.
Things were also changing at Aunt Clara's house. When I got
home from work, I would change out of my uniform, and help Aunty
cook dinner. Then after washing the dishes, my aunt would
manicure my nails (to make sure they were presentable to the
public).
"Dirty chipped nails are not sanitary in a doctor's office"
she said, and would spend 1/2 hour per night removing cuticles,
filing nails, and applying two coats of clear nail polish as a
protector. I kept my nails long on account of my step mother's
attempts to stop my nail biting, so by the end of the week, my
nails were as long any woman's.
When I asked Aunt Clara to cut them, she forbid me to touch
my nails because I would surely mess them up, and told me she
would cut them in time. "Besides" she said, "office girls need
long nails to work with all that paper. You do want them to
consider you to be one of the girls don't you?" As a result, my
long nails stayed.

CHAPTER V - FROM BOY TO GIRL
That Sunday night offered the first inkling that my aunt was
trying to change me into a girl. All week, I had been wearing my
Lanz night shirt to bed, and lately had noticed that the flannel
felt weird against my shaved skin. The cotton really itched, and
I couldn't get to sleep. I complained to my aunt about it, and on
Wednesday, she bought me some pink cotton panties, hoping that
the soft cotton would reduce the irritation. It didn't work. They
felt too much like my boy's underpants.
By Sunday night, my aunt had lost all patience with me. My
tossing and turning all week had kept my aunt from getting a good
night sleep, and my her domineering attitude had returned in
spades. After a thorough bath, leg shaving, and powdering, she
sat me down in my panties and nightgown and began to work on my
nails. That's when the problems started.
"Did you get the clear polish that I asked you to pick up
when you went to the d**g store?." She stopped filing and looked
up at me.
I looked at her blankly and responded "What polish? You only
told me to get Kleenex and Shampoo." After last night's dinner,
my aunt had sent me to the local d**g store.
"I told you to get clear polish for your nails. I used the
last of it yesterday, and told you to pick up some more. How did
you forget?" I sensed that she was getting angry.
"I'm sorry aunty. I didn't mean to forget. I'll walk over
tomorrow after work to pick some up."
"So what am I suppose to put on your nails tonight, dearie?
Unreal! Sometimes boys can be so stupid!" She looked up at me
with disgust.
"Well, nothing I guess. Tonight we can skip the polish and
I'll be extra careful not to break a nail." I sensed that I had
better find a way to quickly end this argument.

"And ruin a week's worth of my work? You really are stupid.
I'm not going to let you out of this chair until you have a coat
on those nails."
A sinister smirk crossed her face. "I guess I'll have to use
Pink." She reached for a bottle of Marvelous Mauve polish and
grabbed my hand.
"Please aunty, I'll be the laughingstock of the office. I
can't wear pink. Please!"
"Pink will match your beautiful new pink blouse I bought you
this afternoon. A femme boy like you will love it. It has lace
around the collar and is very see through. All the women will be
able to see your new camisole!. You'll be so pretty when you go
to work on Monday! Now hold still or I'll send you to work in a
dress."
She locked my hand to the table, and soon, all ten
fingernails and toe nails were painted a beautiful shade of pink.
When they were dry, she sent me up to my room to get ready for
bed.
Then things got worse. That evening, my cotton nightgown
really felt uncomfortable. For some reason, my breasts were very
sensitive. Perhaps it was due to the extra-close shaving that my
aunt performed on my body, or perhaps I was upset over the
feminine manicure. I kept tossing and turning and couldn't fall
asleep.
After yelling at me three times to quiet down, Aunt Clara
finally lost her temper. Turning on the lights, she stormed into
the room.
"Well sissy boy. Don't like your night shirt hmm? Well
perhaps nightshirts are too masculine for sissies like you!"
She jerked me out of bed onto the floor. Off came the Lanz,
and cotton panties. Leaving me naked, she stormed back to her
room with my night clothes. Soon she returned.
"If you're going to whine like a girl, then I'm going to
treat you just like a ***********. Put this on for aunty,
precious."
She held out a mound of pink satin. When I held it up, I
realized it was a pink baby doll nighty with matching ruffled
rhumba panties just like ***********s would wear.
"Put these on first." She threw a pair of plain, pink satin
girl's panties, and a pair of pink, shimmery tights into my face.
"Please aunty, I promise I'll be good. Just bring back my
night shirt" I begged her to give me another chance.
"You're giving me so much trouble that I think I'll send you
to work tomorrow in a dress. Just like a little sissy." She
smiled at the tears running down my face.
"Ok. Ok. Please not that. I'll do as you say." I ran over to
the bed, and quickly donned the panties and tights.
"Now, pull the lacy panties up over the tights. Aren't they
precious honey? So feminine for such a pretty ***********." She
picked up the rhumba panties from the bed and handed them to me.
I immediately pulled them over my tights. Next, she picked up the
nighty and dropped it over my head. As usual, she had picked my
size, and the puffed sleeves hung perfectly over my body.
"Such a pretty little princess. You look just like a fairy.
From now on, this is how you will dress after dinner to get your
nails done. Tomorrow, I am even going to buy you new baby dolls,
so you never have to wear those awful night shirts again. Now go
to bed little one. Give aunty a kissy." She walked out of the
room, and turned out the lights.
The next morning, Aunty allowed me to dress myself in the
usual panties, white tights, and girdle. As promised, I kept my
pink nails, which did indeed match my new blouse and matching
pink camisole. Aunty said that she bought me a pink camisole
because she didn't want my lingerie to show under the blouse. The
material was so sheer however, that I knew everyone could easily
see the lace trim and satin bow on the front. Luckily the day
proceeded uneventfully. All of my fellow secretaries commented
how nice my nails looked, and how impressed they were that I
wanted my nail color to match my new blouse. I figured that they
would object to having a boy dress in such a feminine manner, but
they told me that they appreciated my aunt's efforts to make me
fit in with the rest of the staff.

CHAPTER VI - FAIRY FOR A WEEK
The rest of the week flew by. Every day, my aunt would drop
me off at the doctor's office, and would pick me up after work.
On Friday, my feminization really shifted into first gear. When
I was cleaning up my desk at the end of the day, Dr. Nelson told
me that Aunt Clara had called, and had asked her to drive me
home. Aunty told Dr. Nelson that she was entertaining a friend
and couldn't come to pick me up. I grabbed my new purse that my
aunt had bought for me to hold my powder and climbed into Dr.
Nelson's car.
On the ride home, I really felt grown up. Dr. Nelson told me
how much the other secretaries liked having me as an office
assistant. She told me that initially, she wasn't sure how well I
was going to fit in with the all-girl office, but after seeing me
work, she was happy to see how much effort I expended to get
along with everyone. She told me that "the girls" especially
liked the new additions to my wardrobe, and they all hoped that I
would continue to wear such pretty clothes with my uniform
slacks.
"The girls are very conscientious about their appearance"
Dr. Nelson said, "and were concerned that you might clash with
their clothes." From these comments, I could only assume that I
was really becoming one of the girls. Instead of feeling
embarrassed about my pink nails and see through blouse like last
night, I now felt proud about how well I was getting along with
my co-workers. Not proud enough though, to meet my Aunt's friend
dressed in such a feminine manner.
When Dr. Nelson dropped me at the end of the driveway, I
quietly entered the house through the back door, and crept
upstairs. I changed into the single pair of ill-fitting boy's
jeans, and my old gray sweatshirt, and proceeded to wash off the
makeup, that made me look so much like a girl. I headed
downstairs for supper.
When I rounded the corner into the dining room, I couldn't
believe what I saw. There, on the dining room table, amidst the
coffee cups and raspberry danish crumbs lay my rhumba panties,
tights and baby doll nighty.
"Well look who's home from work. Our own fairy princess.
Chrissy dear, say hello to Mrs. Morgan. I was just showing her
your pretty panties, tights and nighty, and telling her how much
you love dressing up like a cute ***********. Isn't that right?"
I couldn't respond. I was shocked that my Aunt would betray
my confidence to the outside world.
"Mrs. Morgan is putting on a play at the girl's club, and
her head fairy is sick. I'll bet you'd love to take her place!"
All I could do was shake my head. My mouth was frozen shut. How
could this be happening?
Mrs. Morgan got a doubtful look on her face. "Gee Clara,
Chrissy does appear to be the right size, but I honestly don't
think he would look anything like a girl."
My aunt smiled and quickly responded. "Well, why don't you
see for yourself. I am sure Chrissy would love to model her
pretty new things. She always did want to go to modeling school."
"Aunty, please no." My eyes pleaded for leniency from my
Aunt's strange sense of humor. Unfortunately, Mrs. Morgan seemed
to warm to the idea of seeing a boy dressed up as a girl.
"Clara, what a great idea. I would love to see Chrissy
dressed in her baby doll and panties. Can I give you a hand?"
My aunt grabbed my hand and started to lead me up the stairs
to the bedroom. "Grab Chrissy's undies, and lets get started."
Mrs. Morgan picked up the panties, tights, and nighty, and the
two women herded me upstairs.
I tried to fight them as they dragged me toward the bedroom,
but the two women were much stronger than I. By the time I got to
my Aunt's bedroom, I had no strength left in my body. Mrs. Morgan
pulled the sweatshirt over my head, while Aunt Clara, unbuttoned
my jeans, and pulled my underpants down to my ankles. By this
time the sweatshirt was over my head, holding my arms from
moving. Someone pushed me down onto my back, and in one fell
swoop, I was naked on the bed.
"I'm going to throw these boy's clothes in the trash
compactor. Since I dressed him last night, I'll let you have the
honors tonight." My aunt headed down the stairs carrying the last
tie to my masculine life. Considering the circumstances, I
decided to plead for clemency.
"Please Mrs. Morgan. I'm so embarrassed. Just tell Aunty
that I am the wrong size, and let me go. Please? Can't you
understand how humiliating it is to wear these things?" I pointed
to the pile of satin in her hands. Suddenly, this hateful look
crossed her face.
"Of course. That's why I want to take part in making you
Aunty's pretty little princess. I already know that you'll fit
into Melissa's costume, but I've always wanted to dress a boy as
a girl. Now I have the perfect opportunity to do as I wish with
my own **********! And let me tell you sister, if you think that
this is bad, you just wait. You think you'll just be able to wear
your costume over your jeans? Guess again. I am going to do
everything I can to make you into a proper ***********. Just wait
'till dress rehearsal. You do know why they call it dress
rehearsal don't you?!"
I shook my head.
Well you'll find out soon enough. Now then, unless you want
me to tell your aunt to send you to work in a dress, I would
suggest we get started." She picked up the plain panties, knelt
in front of me, and held open the waist. "Let's see how Chrissy
puts on her satiny panties."
Resigned to my fate, I lifted my shaved leg, and pointed my
toe toward the floor. Mrs. Morgan put the opening, first under my
right foot and then under my left, slid the panties up my legs,
and covered my private parts.
"See dear. Don't these feel so pretty? Much better than
those nasty briefs. Now, lets get your tights." She picked up the
pink Danskins.
"Oooh, shimmery tights. Aunty really knows how to make her
********** pretty." She rolled the toe of the stockings over my
feet, and carefully pulled them up over my bottom.
As the tights reached my waist, my aunt reentered the
bedroom.
"Doesn't he make an adorable niece?" my aunt gushed as she
surveyed her nephew, once again clad in panties and pink tights.
"Absolutely. You know you were right. This IS much better
than having a daughter." She picked up the lacy, rhumba panties,
and held them up to my aunt.
"Where on earth did you get these? They are so adorable? I
didn't think that anyone sold these anymore." Not waiting for an
answer, she pulled them over my tights before my aunt could
respond.
"The Proper Princess in Santa Clara of course. The
proprietors are a couple of elderly women who remember just how
prettily girls dressed back in the sixties. They have factories
in the Orient that make old fashioned petticoats, rhumba panties,
bouffant slips, girdles, garter belts and sweater bras, all for
girls from 5 - teen. Of course, they also stock things for
special boys like Chrissy. You should see some of the Nylon party
dresses that they have in the shop. Chrissy would look great in a
party dress. I even saw some satin, sanitary napkin belts for
teenagers there. Talk about sugar and spice and everything nice!"
Without looking up from the task of adjusting the fit of my
lacy overpanty, Mrs. Morgan continued with the conversation.
"Wow. You don't see those things around much any more. I
always thought belted napkins were much more feminine than those
stick in kind. Did you buy Chrissy one? She might be having her
period soon!" Both women burst out laughing.
"No not yet. I think it is still too early for Chrissy to
make the transition from c***dhood to young womanhood. All in due
time thought. I did tell them about Chrissy, and they thought
that having a nephew who really wanted to be a niece was divine.
They told me to bring our Chrissy in anytime to start building a
wardrobe suitable for an ***************."
By this time, Mrs. Morgan had lowered the baby doll over my
head, and was fluffing my hair.
"Well, are you going to take her shopping?" I looked up in
horror, waiting for the answer that might determine my future
fate.
"Well, maybe. It depends on whether or not Chrissy behaves
himself." Aunty looked at her friend. "See, didn't I tell you
that Chrissy would make a perfect pixie."
Mrs. Morgan looked at me and spun me around to get a good
look at my new clothes. "Chrissy. I never would have believed it,
but you look absolutely exquisite. Just like a ************
girl." She reinforced my humiliation by patting my panty clad
bottom. I felt sick to my stomach, and slumped onto the bed.
Mrs. Morgan went on.
"Let me tell you about the production dear." She sat down
next to me on the bed. "I am the director of a play being staged
by the Carlisle Academy Girls Theater Company. It's called "The
Fairy Princess in Pixieland", and it's all about this ***********
who dreams that she travels to the land of Pixies, and is changed
into a fairy princess. The play opens in one week, and one of our
head pixies has come down with a dreadful case of stomach flu.
The problem is that we have already ordered all of the costumes,
and none of the stand ins are the right size. I happened to
mention our little problem to your aunt, and she mentioned how
much you enjoyed your school theater group, and how much you'd
love to join our little production. And guess what? You really
ARE the perfect size for the costume. Now I know that we have an
all girls theater company, but you shouldn't have any trouble.
After all, in your nighty, you really do look just like one of
the girls."
She continued. "Now the part is real easy. There are no
lines to memorize or anything. All you have to do is sit there,
and smile pretty. You'll even get to wear stage makeup like a
grownup!" She seemed to enjoy the fact that I couldn't blush more
if I tried.
On one hand, I really wanted to say yes, but would be
mortified to go out in front of people dressed like that.
Besides, I was so angry over this intentional humiliation at the
hands of my aunt, I had no intention on cooperating. I took two
deep breaths, and responded.
"Thank you Mrs. Morgan, but I don't think so. I have to wear
these pajamas because I am allergic to the cotton nightshirts
that my mom bought for me. I don't really want to be one of the
girls." Things were proceeding so fast, that I was terrified that
this "one of the girls" thing was getting too far out of hand.
Suddenly my aunt dropped a bombshell. "Well dear, if you
aren't one of the girls, then why are you wearing pink nail
polish? Perhaps you'd also like to show Mrs. Morgan your new
panty girdle." She turned to Mrs. Morgan. "How many boys do you
know who wear teen panty girdles? He even asked if we could go
shopping for a training bra."
Aunt Clara surveyed my satin-clad body. "Perhaps we should.
Do you think he is ready for his first bra? He's only eleven you
know!"
Mrs. Morgan looked at my aunt and smiled. "Clara, you really
are still living in the sixties. A training bra is very
appropriate for an ***************. Some girls in our theater
troupe who wear them are only *************. Now then how about
it Chrissy? Do you really want to go shopping for your first bra,
and be in our production?"
Darn! I forgot that my nails were still pink from last
night's session. It was obvious that this was a set up and that I
couldn't get out of this mess. Sensing victory, my aunt didn't
wait for me to respond.
"Of course Chrissy would love to be in your play. When does
rehearsal start?" She shot a triumphant look in my direction.
Mrs. Morgan turned to me and held my hands. "Marvelous.
Final rehearsals start on Monday at 6:00 PM. I'll bring over the
costume tomorrow afternoon to see if any alterations are
necessary. Otherwise, have her there at 6:00 on Monday." Mrs.
Morgan's face was beaming.
"As far as a bra goes, we'll have to see how developed
Chrissy is when I bring the costume over for her to try." Mrs.
Morgan winked at my aunt, and began gathering up her things.
I tried to muster as much masculine determination as
possible. "I am not a her, and I don't need a bra!" I stood up
and crossed my hands in front of me in an attempt to hide my
feminine fingernails.
"Let us be the judge of that young lady." Both women
giggled. "We can't have your boobies bouncing around under your
pixie costume, now can we?" The giggles turned to laughter as
both women headed for the door.
As Aunt Clara bid Mrs. Morgan good-bye, I sat back in the
chair, too weary to contemplate my latest humiliation.
"I'm not doing it. I am not a girl, and I don't like being
called one. Who do you think I am? Your niece? Get real!" I
turned away with disgust.
"Enough of that impertinence young lady. Let's get something
straight." She grabbed my chin tightly in her hand, and looked me
straight in the eyes. "If I tell you that you are a girl, then
you will be a girl!. I can easily send photos of you in your
nighty to your mother, or your friends at school. I can dress you
in skirts, and send you out for a quart of milk. What I say goes,
and you'd better do EXACTLY as I say. Otherwise, I'm going to
make this 1000 times worse for you!"
She released my chin, and sat down on the bed. "I told Jane
that you would help her out, and you are going to follow through
on that promise.
What choice did I have? I already knew how much she enjoyed
humiliating me. If I refused the part, she would make sure that
everyone knew that I was a sissy boy, a femme, or a fairy. If I
did go along, I might be able to keep this humiliating summer
under wraps. Besides, despite what Mrs. Morgan threatened,
costumes did go over your original clothes, and I probably could
wear my boy's underpants and socks to cement my status in front
of these other girls. Aunty would HAVE to go along with that.
And the bra stories? Probably just designed to scare me into
going along with the deal. What did I have to put in a bra
anyway?
"all right, I agree. But as long as you promise to cool the
girl stuff from now on!"
"Of course dearest, your the sweetest!" She kissed me on the
forehead. "I'll even let you wear your nightshirt tonight,
instead of your baby doll. See, I know that you want to be
Aunty's little man." She strode over to the closet, opened the
door, and lifted my nightshirt out of the laundry basket.
"Oh, I'm sorry Chrissy. I didn't wash your nightshirt. You
don't mind wearing your baby doll to bed do you? I promise to
wash it tomorrow." She kissed me again and hugged me to her body.
Mrs. Morgan 'the bitch' was gone, and the sweet, loving mother
figure had returned. She was being so sweet and all, that I
totally believed her words.
"No aunty. I don't mind." Besides, the nylon did feel much
better than the cotton.
"Perfect. Now go brush your teeth, and I'll see you in the
morning. You'll have to find something to keep you busy tomorrow.
I have a long report to write for work on Monday, and I can't be
disturbed. Now I suggest that you hit the sack. It's really
getting late."
After I brushed my teeth, she led me over to my bed, and
tucked in the covers around me. "Isn't Mrs. Morgan nice?" she
exclaimed as she turned out the lights.
As I closed my eyes, I said to myself "Yeah. Mrs. Morgan is
perfect....as a witch." Secretly, I was enjoying the opportunity
to fulfill many c***dhood fantasies about becoming a girl, but my
transformation was proceeding along much too fast. I hoped that
soon, things would get better, and this girlish stuff would slow
down. I didn't know how wrong I was.


CHAPTER 7 - THE COSTUME
Due to all the stress of the previous evening's activities,
I hoped to sleep past my usual weekend wake up time of 9:00 AM.
Unfortunately, I didn't count on my aunt's plans. At 7:00, my
aunt breezed into my room, pulled up the shades, leaving me
blinking in the strong sun.
"Wake up dearest. Today's costume fitting day! Mrs. Morgan
just called and came up with a great idea. She suggested that you
attend this weekend's afternoon rehearsals to get a feel for your
part. Since I have work to do, Mrs. Morgan suggested that you
could stay with her for the weekend, and she would take you to
the theater. Isn't that sweet of her?"
"Indubitably." I tried to muster as much sarcasm as
possible. Somehow I knew that this would not be as simple as a
lift to rehearsal, but I didn't see that I had much choice in the
matter.
She pulled off my covers and headed for the bathroom. "I'll
run your bath, and while your in the tub, I'll lay out your
clothes. Mrs. Morgan lent you some boyish slacks and shirts that
belonged to her daughter. I told her about your chubby hips, and
she thought that these would fit you instead of buying brand new
clothes. I'll leave your undies on the chair."
Resigned to my fate, I took off the baby doll, panties, and
tights, and after putting them in the laundry basket, I grabbed a
fresh towel and headed for the bathroom. As I hung up the towel
next to the hot, steaming tub, I noticed the usual pink nylon
panties, and one of my girdles. Instead of tights and a camisole,
I found the girl's satin vest that I tried on during my first day
at work, and a pair of white, opaque, shiny knee high stockings.
I turned toward the door, and yelled down the hall
"Aunty, where are my tights and camisole, and how come I
have to wear these other things?"
My aunt poked her head into the bathroom. "Because silly. In
Dr. Nelson's office, you have to fit in with a group that is much
older than yourself. At Sunday's rehearsal, you be with girls who
are younger just like you. Besides, Mrs. Morgan sent them along
with the slacks and shirts. Now hurry up. Mrs. Morgan is
expecting you in 3/4 of an hour. Make sure you shave your legs
too. They are getting stubbly. Don't bother with your hair. You
don't have time this morning."
I didn't see any stubble, but did as I was told anyway. In
fifteen minutes, I quickly completed my bath, took care of my
legs and underarms, and quickly rinsed off the suds from the
bubble bath. I hopped out of the tub, dried my smooth body,
dusted myself with bath powder, applied deodorant, and slid on
the undergarments laying on the dressing bench. I hurried into my
aunt's bedroom.
There on the bed, lay a pair of pale blue stirrup pants, a
soft pullover sweater and a lavender blouse with buttons on the
front. I pulled on the pants, pulled the stirrup under my feet,
buttoned up my blouse, and pulled on my sweater. My aunt combed
my hair with a part in the middle, and after a few dabs of facial
powder, we were ready to go. We hopped in the car, and drove
across town to Mrs. Morgan's neighborhood. With a kiss on the
face, she dropped me off in front of the house, and drove away as
I rang the bell. Almost as soon as I pushed the doorbell, the
door opened.
"Good morning Chrissy. How did you sleep in your pretty
nighty last night? Do you like the clothes that I dropped off
last night? They fit you marvelously."
I blushed at her comments, and offered a reserved thank you.
If someone else was listening in to this incredible conversation!
I would have melted into the ground.
"Well don't just stand there, come inside. As soon as I get
rid of this coffee, we can get started with the costume. I know
you'll like it since it's much prettier than your baby dolls!"
She closed the door behind me, and led me through the living room
and into the kitchen where she rinsed out her cup.
"You know, your aunt told me all about your wanting to be a
girl. She said that your step-mother found pictures in the family
photo album of you dressed as a girl for a Halloween party when
you were 5. She said that your grandmother use to love making you
pretty. Was that true?"
I couldn't believe that my grandmother had betrayed our
little secret. I also was kind of disappointed that someone else
in my family who had seen the pictures didn't pick up where
grandma left off. In spite of these feelings, I was terrified of
having anything to do with dressing up around an obvious
stranger. I shook my head, and started mumbling about Halloween.
Mrs. Morgan quickly cut in. "Well, I hope that you can learn
to like being a pretty girl because it will be a lot easier on
you if you do. If you choose to fight me on this, it will be 1000
times more humiliating than if you cooperate. Do you want me to
tell all the neighbors the newest pixie is really a fairy little
boy? Hmm? Wouldn't it be a lot easier if everyone thought that
you were just another girl?"
She had a point. I didn't relish the thought of wearing a
tutu, tights and makeup while looking like a boy. I wanted to
avoid attention to get the whole mess over with. The humiliation
of being crossdressed in public was a lot worse than getting the
chance to fulfill my dreams again. Mrs. Morgan's voice
interrupted my train of thought.
"Besides, if you enjoy being made a girl as much as everyone
says, we can have so much fun together this weekend. I've always
wanted to dress a pretty boy as a girl, and you'd make a
perfectly darling new daughter. I promise I won't tell anyone as
long as you tell me not to. It will be our little secret." She
smiled and waited for my answer.
Well, the syrupy sound of her voice worked its magic, and
the soft touch of her hand erased all fear of public exposure.
It brought back all of the fantastic memories of my last visit to
grandma's house six years ago.
"Are you sure that no one else will find out?" I whispered.
"As long as you do exactly as I say, no one will ever find
out. I'll bet you'd love to wear all kinds of makeup wouldn't
you? Did your grandmother put makeup on you?" She picked up my
hand, and looked into my face.
I nodded sheepishly, while a broad smile crept across my
lips.
"Well, if you want, I can put makeup on you too! Well, why
don't we get started making my new daughter pretty." She picked
up my hand and led me upstairs into the master bedroom of the
house.
There were clothes laid out all over the queen sized bed,
and I started to shake when I began to suspect that my new aunty
bought all of these pretty things for me.
"Mrs. Morgan, I thought I was just going to try on a pixie
costume." I pointed to all of the clothes on the bed. "Who are
these pretty things for?"
"Why you dearest." She started unbuttoning my blouse. "First
off, you need the proper underfashions for the pixie costume to
look right. Second, you're going to need something to wear to get
you over to the school for rehearsal. These clothes are much too
boyish for you. You don't want to look boyish do you dear?"
She took my shoes off, and began working on my blouse.
"And since you're my new daughter, you can quit with the
Mrs. Morgan stuff, and call me aunty!"
It was almost like falling down the rabbit hole into a
fantasy world. My new aunty was going to make me pretty, and no
one would know our little secret. She finished with the last
button on the blouse, took it off my shoulders, and pulled down
my stirrup pants.
The tights, panties and vest followed, until I was naked.
Her sweet attitude had totally removed any fear or concern on my
part about what lay ahead for the weekend. I actually loved the
fact that I was standing with no clothes on in front of this
strange woman, awaiting my transition from young man to young
woman.
"Now for this costume, you need special panties. You really
need to wear a girdle to keep you from bulging under the clingy
fabric, but a girdle would show under the short puffy skirt.
That's why I got you something that should keep you all snug down
there."
She picked up a bag, tore open the plastic, and removed a
white, elastic garment from the bag.
"This is called a dance belt." she explained as she held up
the garment in front of my face. The belt looked like a pair of
very-high cut panties without backs. The front was a plain,
heavy, satin-like material, triangular in shape, with light lace
trim around the edge, and a bow at the waist. In the crotch area,
the heavy material narrowed down into a very strong elastic
strap, that went all the way up the back to the waist. The waist
band itself was a similar kind of white elastic strap that sat
low on the hips, but was only 3/4 of an inch in diameter.
She picked up a powder puff, and dusted my private parts to
keep them dry and comfortable. Next, she had me place my legs
through the loops, and pulled the belt up to my thighs. She
reached over to the bed, and picked up what looked like a
sanitary napkin that was much thinner than the ones that I saw in
my mother's bathroom.
"Now I know how excited young boys can get when they get to
wear frills and lace, and we can't have you messing up your
costume now can we? So let aunty put this panty liner into your
belt to keep you nice and clean. Ok?"
Mesmerized, I nodded agreement. She unpeeled the sticky
back, and stuck the liner into the front of the belt. She stood
up, stepped behind me, and worked the belt over my hips while
tucking me into the front of the garment. As she pulled the belt
into place, the back elastic strap disappeared between my cheeks.
"There. Perfect. Next we need tights." She picked up the
package, and removed the stockings. The tights were the standard
shimmery kind, except this time they were powder blue in color.
Since I had been putting on tights for the last two weeks, I took
them from my new aunty, and pulled them up over the dance belt.
"My aren't you an expert! Have you been dressing up in
secret?"
I shook my head. Turning me around, she surveyed the
abbreviated panty line under the tights.
"You know, if I took a picture of you from the waist down,
you'd look just like a girl. I can't even tell you have a pee
pee."
As I looked into the mirror, I could tell that she was
right. My tights and dance belt made my penis totally disappear.
"Now dear, the skirt on the costume is very short, so the
audience will probably be able to see underneath, so we are going
to wear these lacy panties to give them something pretty to look
at! See, these are just like your pink ones that you wear under
your nighty."
These rhumba panties were even more frilly than the ones my
aunt picked out. They were made of what my aunt called taffeta,
and had an inch of soft, net-type ruffles around the leg opening.
Rows of lace were sewed every inch or so across the rear. The
waist band was hidden in the taffeta, while two white bows graced
the hips of the garment.
"What's a petticoat?" I asked as I pulled up the fancy
panties.
"Have you ever worn a half slip dear?"
I shook my head. I knew what a slip was, but I wanted her to
tell me herself. The way she talked to me made me feel just like
her daughter.
"Well, a half slip is just like a nylon skirt with an
elastic waist. It gives you modesty under a sheer skirt to keep
the boys from seeing your legs. It also protects your stockings
and panties from the rough wool or cotton material. A petticoat
is a fluffy slip that helps to hold your skirt out nice and wide
so that you look like a ballerina."
She held up a white skirt of sorts that looked like it was
made of layers and layers of material.
"See? we ordered one with each costume."
The outside layer was a thin, see through, lightweight
tulle, which lay over four alternating layers of taffeta and
nylon net. The outside layer of taffeta had been embroidered with
lace rose flowers which were faintly visible under the tulle. A
large nylon bow accented the front. The edges were all lined
with lace trim.
Mrs. Morgan motioned me to put my arms over my head, and
lowered the petticoat over my head until it hung over my chubby
hips. I looked into the mirror and discovered that she was right.
The edge of my panties did indeed peek out from underneath the
short slip.
Mrs. Morgan walked over to the door, and picked up a garment
bag that had been hanging over the edge. She unzipped the bag,
and removed the most beautiful pixie costume I had ever seen. It
was prettier than anything I ever dreamed about. So pretty in
fact, that I felt woozy just thinking that I would soon be
wearing such a dance dress. The skirt was made of the same light
blue sheer tulle as the outer layer of the petticoat I was now
wearing. It was obvious that my pretty petticoat would show
through the skirt. The bodice of the dress looked like a clingy,
very shiny lycra leotard with sheer sleeves.
Mrs. Morgan unzipped the back of the dress, and took it off
the hanger. Without any prompting, I put my hands over my head.
She guided my hands into the sleeves, and lowered the skirt over
my petticoat. I could barely stop shaking as she zipped up the
back, and adjusted the dress covering my body.
"Oh aunty! It's beautiful. It feels incredible to be wearing
such pretty things! I want to be your daughter forever!"
I pirouetted in front of the three sided mirror and felt the
satiny undergarments sliding over my nylon encased legs. This was
better than anything I had ever imagined.
"You look just like an angel! Your aunt was right that you
would make a perfect pixie! With the right hair style, and
makeup, you'll be the prettiest pixie in the show! Let me look at
you." She sat down on the bed, and made me walk in front of her.
I felt like a fashion model on a runway as I tried to emulate the
steps of a typical female model.
"Do I really look good?" I wanted to hear how pretty I was
over and over again.
"I knew you'd be the right size honey. The costume fits
perfectly. Just think, you will be wearing this costume for dress
rehearsal on Wednesday and Thursday, and for performances on
Friday night, Saturday Afternoon, and evening, and Sunday
Afternoon. Aren't you a lucky duck!"
I stood mesmerized as I stared at my feminine form in the
full length mirror. Here I was, dressed like a pixie, in a
costume that I would have to wear for six whole performances. My
wearing a dress again convinced me that I didn't want to be a boy
anymore, and I was glad that I would be spending a lot of time
over the next week with Mrs. Morgan. Suddenly, I felt her hand
pulling down my back zipper.
"I know you don't want to take off your pretty costume, but
we have to get you dressed and make it to the theater for
rehearsal by three. Take off your things, and hang them up neatly
on the hanger. Leave your dance belt on, and put on these suntan
tights. I'll help you with your leotard.
Mrs. Morgan was right. My costume was so pretty that I
didn't want to take it off, but not wanting to be late, I
carefully removed the dress, petticoat, overpanties and tights,
and hung them on the special hanger. Mrs. Morgan had bought me
dance clothes just for rehearsals, so I shimmied into the suntan
tights, and picked up the black, lycra leotard. Mrs. Morgan
showed me how to roll up the top, step into the panty, and pull
the stretchy material over my hips, and then over my shoulders.
"Here. Put these on." She handed me my navy blue stirrup
pants, and my matching flats. I pulled on the clingy pants over
my tights and looped the stirrup under my foot.
"Let me brush your hair, and we'll be ready to go." She
motioned me over to her dressing table. She brushed and teased my
hair to add fullness to the androgenous style my hair had grown
into, and added the usual blush, powder and lip gloss to my face.
In the mirror, I looked more like a young teenaged girl than the
teenaged boy that I started out as. A couple of sprays of hair
spray, and she pronounced me ready for class.
"I don't know about this. Why can't I just wear my pants and
blouse? I really look like a boy dressed in girl's clothes.
Everyone is going to make fun of me." I really had major concerns
about being seen wearing a leotard by the other girls in the
production. I knew that teenaged girls in the 8th grade still
considered boys to be yucky, and might take offense at my obvious
intrusion into their domain.
"Nonsense. You are just fitting in by dressing like the
other members of the troupe. You know, just like at Dr. Nelson's
office. There is a class dress code of solid color leotards and
suntan tights. If you wear pants, you will really stick out. Mrs.
Cataldo, the teacher, will watch out for you. I promise."
I looked up as she put on her shoes and grabbed her purse.
"Why? Won't you be there?"
"I have to run errands, so I'm going to leave you at
the theater. Just do what Mrs. Cataldo says."
She got up off the bed, and grabbed my purse that was
hanging from the doorknob.
"Here. Take your purse, and let's get going."
We locked up the house, and climbed into the car. Looking
through my purse, I discovered that she had added tissues, lip
gloss, a spare panty liner, and breath mints. I took out a
breath mint, and being careful not to smudge my lip gloss, popped
it into my mouth.

CHAPTER 8 - REHEARSAL WITH THE GIRLS
All kinds of thoughts ran through my head on the drive over
to Carlisle Academy. "What if the girls think I'm weird? What if
I can't play the part? What if someone makes fun of my tights and
leotard?" I had no explanation for being in an all-girl's play or
even wearing girls clothes for that matter. Maybe I could blame
it on my aunt, and elicit some sympathy for my plight. No
solutions came to mind as we pulled into the Carlisle Academy
campus, and parked next to the theater.
"Posture dear" Mrs. Morgan reminded as we entered the
building. "Head up, chin tucked, and hands by your side."
I felt like a girl, walking with my chest and wrists out, and
this only added to the feminine aura that I saw fifteen minutes
before in the mirror.
We walked down the corridor in the front of the building and
entered a small office with Mrs. Cataldo's name on the door. A
woman, who I guessed was the theater teacher, motioned us to sit
down as she finished up her conversation on the telephone. I
perused the walls, and noted the many pictures of girls in
various dance costumes. Some wore plain leotards with see-through
skirts. Others wore ornately decorated leotards with sequins and
lace trim. I started to see if I could find pictures of boy
dancers, but didn't get a chance to look, as Mrs. Cataldo
abruptly finished her phone call.
"This must be Chrissy." Mrs. Cataldo beamed as she looked me
over from head to toe.
Mrs. Morgan responded. "Chrissy, this is Mrs. Cataldo."
Turning to the teacher, she added "Chrissy is so excited about
being a pixie in the play. We tried on the costume this morning
and Chrissy didn't want to take it off. He really looks
adorable."
I was blushing like crazy, and knew that the makeup job only
made the situation more noticeable.
"Well it's great to have him in the show." She turned her
attention to my appearance again. "I am happy to see that you are
observing our class dress code. I'm sure you'll be accepted as
one of the girls in no time."
I liked the whole idea of being a girl, but having never
done it in so public a fashion, I was quite nervous and
embarrassed, and didn't respond to the complement.
Mrs. Cataldo continued. "Well Jane, you can be on your way.
Rehearsal should be done in two hours. We'll see you then."
She turned to me and continued. "Come on Chrissy, lets get
started shall we?" She ushered us out of the office, locking the
door behind her. Waving goodbye to my new mom, I followed Mrs.
Cataldo through a set of double doors into the theater.
The double doors led directly backstage, and I could see
that there were about sixty girls, ranging in age from about ten
to their upper teens. Some had the bodies of pre-pubescent
teenagers, while others were already developing into attractive
young ladies. It was easy to guess ages, since the leotards left
little to the imagination. Most complied with the dress code, but
a few were wearing leotards with bright designs on them, or
shorts and t-shirts over their leotards and tights.
My hopes of blending in with the group were dashed however,
as every eye in the room moved my way. Somehow, I felt naked, and
crossed my arms in front of my chest to cover myself up.
"Just like a girl!" I thought to myself.
Mrs. Carlisle hopped up on a chair, and clapped her hands to
quiet the group. Most eyes were still glancing my way, but now
many of the girls were giggling at the same time. I wanted to
disappear into the floor.
"Attention please girls. Quiet down please. I want to
introduce you to a new member of our troupe, Chrissy Parsomes.
Chrissy will be taking Melinda's place as one of the pixies in
the show. I hope you will make her, I mean him feel welcome."
The whole room burst out into laughter at her use of
pronouns.
"Let's try the dance routine in act three, scene two. Take
your places everyone.
Turning in my direction, she continued to address the cast
members. "Chrissy, you can take off your jeans, and have a seat
on the side to get a feel as to what is going on. Tomorrow, I
want you to try some of the dance steps to get a feel for the
production."
Still blushing like crazy, I walked over to the side and
began removing my jeans. That's when the comments started.
"I guess Mrs. Cataldo is right. I can't tell if he is a boy
or a girl." One of the f******n year olds stared while I took off
my blouse.
Her friend responded "I think he's a girl. He is wearing
makeup. How many boys do you know that wear blusher?"
They all laughed out loud. I don't know if it was possible,
but my ears seemed to be ready to burst into flames. I ignored
the comments, and concentrated on folding up my jeans, and
pulling down my leotard to cover my bottom.
"Look. He doesn't even have a weener. Maybe he had the
operation." I glanced over where the comment came from. This
group of girls all looked around *****************, and all of
them wore bras over well developed figures. Ignoring my glare,
they continued to giggle amongst themselves. I took the nearest
chair, and concentrated on the dance group lining up on stage. I
hoped that Mrs. Cataldo would shield me from any sort of
embarrassing situations, but so far, she had totally ignored my
humiliation.
As the rehearsal progressed, the comments continued, making
fun of my undeveloped figure, my pink nail polish, my girlish
haircut, and shimmery tights. One girl seemed to take exceptional
delight at making fun of me in front of her group.
Sandy looked to be the oldest member of the group. She held
the lead in the play, and had obviously been dancing for many
years. She had a fantastic figure, and sported a feminine
hairstyle and makeup job. She looked just like a model. For some
reason, she seemed to take an instant dislike to me. Every time
she passed my chair, which was often, she let loose with a nasty
comment. She seemed to relish in my humiliation.
"My such a sweet ***********.....What's your name little
girl.....What a pretty leotard Chrissy. Did you pick it out
yourself.....I bet your wearing pretty pink panties under your
tights. Maybe you'll show them to us in the dressing room after
rehearsal." Every comment seemed to be worse than the prior one.
Finally, rehearsal ended, and the girls pranced off the
stage to mop their brows with towels after the strenuous workout,
Sandy decided to get in what I thought was her last jab before
everyone headed home.
"Chrissy dear. Don't you know we have a dress code here?"
She looked at me with a derisive look on her face. Her clique had
gathered around to witness her attack on the new little femme in
the class.
I had already figured out that hiding didn't keep them from
making fun of me, so I decided to stick up for myself. I lifted
my chin, and summoned up the courage to respond.
"Of course. What do you think I am, stupid? What do you
think these are?" I pointed to my tights.
The group laughed. My new found courage didn't seem to be
working. Sandy ignored my response and continued.
"It says on the sign up sheet that all girls who are
developing a figure, are required to wear bras. Where's your bra
sissypants?"
I couldn't believe my ears, as the group burst into loud
laughter. I didn't know what to say. My response was pitiful.
"Boys don't have figures stupid."
"That's why they make training bras dear. For girls with
small boobies like you."
I felt like I was at a comedy routine. The group loved the
show that Sandy was putting on for them. Lost for any reply to
their comments, I was relieved to hear Mrs. Cataldo call for the
group's attention.
"OK girls. Remember, rehearsal starts at 9:00 AM sharp
tomorrow. Make sure your here ready to go. Let's see." She looked
down at a list attached to her clipboard.
"Those of you who haven't paid your costume fees yet, get
them in tomorrow. I have to pay the order bill by Friday. Stop
being cheapskates and cough up." Laughs s**ttered around the
room.
"One more thing. I shouldn't have to remind you about this,
but we do have a dress code here. Shorts, t-shirts and patterned
leotards are not acceptable. I want to see everyone in solid
leotard, and suntan tights girls."
A voice came out of the crowd that sent a shiver up my
spine.
"What about bras Mrs. Cataldo?" I looked across the stage.
There stood Sandy, looking in my direction, with a sick smile on
her face.
"Of course Sandy. Thanks for reminding me. Anyone with a
figure should be wearing a bra under their leotard. Since
everyone here is aged ten and over, you all have figures, and
should all be wearing bras. All good dancers want to look their
best on stage, and you can't look your best if you're jiggling
all over the place. I'll be checking tomorrow, so I want to see
bra straps over everyone's shoulders." A groan sent off across
the stage from the feminists in the group.
"Here it comes I thought" as Sandy inched forward towards
Mrs. Cataldo.
"Well, Chrissy told me that she...I mean he was eleven, and
I think he is pretty developed if you ask me. Why doesn't he have
to wear a bra?"
I'm sure everyone noticed that I immediately covered my
chest with my arms, because everyone, including Mrs. Cataldo was
staring in my direction.
Other girls began to pipe up their support. "Yeah. How come
we have to and he doesn't."
One girl pushed her way forward. "He wanted to join an
all-girls production. I say he has to live by our rules."
By this time, Sandy had walked over to my side of the stage,
and was standing directly in front of me. She poked her finger
into my chest and drove the final nail into my coffin.
"If you want to be a girl so much that you asked for the
most feminine part in our show, then you have to wear a bra!" She
turned and walked back toward Mrs. Cataldo.
Obviously, I was beet-faced, having been totally embarrassed
in front of sixty girls. Even so, I figured that the joke had run
its course. Mrs. Cataldo would laugh, smile, and end the whole
affair by exempting me from that part of the dress code. After
all, I was a guy, and had complied with the leotard, tights and
ballet slippers part. What did I have to put into a bra? I
smiled in her direction.
Mrs. Cataldo laughed, smiled and then dropped the bomb. "Of
course Sandy. You're absolutely right. Chrissy dear, I want to
see you wearing a bra tomorrow." The whole group erupted into
applause. It's almost as if everyone wanted to feminize me.
Despite being scared to death over the impending
developments, I found the necessary voice to respond to the
ridiculous order.
"That's not fair! I don't have a figure! I'm a boy!"
Immediately, comments sprang up from the group along the lines of
"You sure don't look like a boy!"
"Well dear, that's why they make training bras!" The
laughter was impossible to ignore and I was mortified. It's
almost as if Sandy had been talking to Mrs. Cataldo about me.
She stepped down off the chair thus signalling the end of
rehearsal. As the rest of the girls headed for the exits, Mrs.
Cataldo walked over in my direction.
"Please ask your mother to take you shopping tonight to get
you properly fitted. OK?" She picked up her tote bag sitting
beside me and headed out for her office. "I'd suggest choosing
something made of nylon with lace trim to help you feel like a
true pixie!" I gathered my things and ran outside.

CHAPTER 9 - CHRISSY'S FIRST BRA
"What a mess" I thought to myself as I climbed into bed with
the script for the play. I had three hours before lights out to
get familiar with my part before tomorrow's rehearsal. I had
often dreamed about getting fitted for my first brassiere, but
now that the event threatened to become a reality, I was too
embarrassed to go through with it. As a result, I didn't tell
Mrs. Morgan about my need for a bra, and luckily, she didn't find
out about Mrs. Cataldo's order. I figured that no one would
expect me to go through with what had to be a joke, and that
after a few rehearsals, everyone would forget about the whole
incident.
Even so, despite my keeping "the bra thing" a secret from
Mrs. Morgan, I couldn't stop thinking about going to get fitted
for a bra.
Most of the sex ed books that I read in school suggested
that a girl's first bra marked the beginning of her journey from
c***dhood to adult womanhood. A bra was the one garment that
shouted "Young woman" for the whole world to see. I remembered
spending hours following the outline of the bras worn by the
girls in my class. While the white regulation blouses were pretty
opaque in the front, the sheer backs allowed me a perfect view of
the satiny straps and back hooks. Many a day, I daydreamed about
what it would be like to have my mother take me shopping for my
first bra, and having to hook one on every morning before
travelling off to school. Now the opportunity lay open for it to
happen for real, and I was too scared to follow through! I tried
to concentrate on the script that lay in the lap of my baby doll
nighty, but the wetness showing through the panties kept bringing
me back to my old fantasies. Finally, I couldn't stand it any
longer. I put the script on the night table, and headed
downstairs to grab the mail order Catalog. After my aunt had
retired for the night, I sneaked the catalog from under my bed
and turned to the index.
"Let's see.....Bras.....Here it is.....growing girls, page
237.....Juniors, page 239-240.....teens, page 237-238."
I quietly turned to page 237, and consulting the header at
the top of the page.
"Junior Bras and Foundation Garments."
The text continued.
"Be sure to measure sizes carefully, as developing figures
change rapidly. To determine size, measure girl in normal
underwear. Place measuring tape under developing bust. This is
the bra size. Round up to nearest even number.
To determine cup size, place tape over fullest part of the
bust. If the measurement is the same or less than the bra
measurement, she takes a AAA cup. 1/2 to 1 inch larger takes a AA
cup. 1 inch or larger takes an A cup. 2 inches larger takes a B
cup. For proper sizing information, bring your daughter into the
Junior Department for an expert fitting."

I continued down the page to the section marked p*****n /
Growing Girl Bras.
"Designed for the just developing p*****n whose figure is
rapidly changing. Nylon spandex cups adjust to the growing bust
line. Adjustable stretch straps and three hook back closure allow
for perfect fit. Feminine design makes every young girl feel more
grown up!"
I looked down at the pictures. The first looked like one of my
satin vests that had been cut off below the bust. The caption
read
"Bra Look Vest. Soft nylon/cotton blend provides modest
protection and support. Lace edging with satin bow trim. Back
hook closure. Made in Costa Rica. Available in white, pink, and
beige, sizes S M L. #PTBLV. Package of two, $3.95
I continued down the page.
"Nylon Stretch beginner bra. Ideal starter bra for girls
just starting to show. Nylon spandex cups stretch to fit cup
sizes from AAA to A. Lace knit cups, and floral trim let everyone
know that your *********** is growing up! Only available in
white, sizes 28 - 36 AAA - A cup. #PTNSB. Package of 2, $4.95

The next one looked similar to the beginner bra, but had more
material. The caption read
"Support Beginner bra. Perfect for size up girls. Wider
shoulder straps and bottom bands help keep bra in place over
chubby figures. Shirring and cross your heart styling between
cups helps accommodate added bust size. Nylon tricot and spandex.
White only, sizes 34-40 AA. #PTCSBB. Package of 2, $5.50"

The next section described bras for teens.
"Bras for the girl who isn't ready for a full sized bra, but
wants to graduate to grown up styling. Feminine features make her
look just like a modern co-ed!"

These bras looked a lot more like what the girl's in my grade
were wearing. One was a very light weight bra with a single 1/2
inch strap around the back. The bra had natural cups which I
discovered were made of a single thickness of nylon instead of
being padded with fiberfill. It had an inch of floral lace and
the usual bow between the cups. The lace was there to make the
bra fit figure sizes ranging from AA to B. A lot of the liberated
girls at school wore this kind of bra, because it didn't show
much under their clothes. Thus they could meet the dress code
requirement of wearing a bra, while minimizing their acceptance
of this regulation.
The next one was slightly more substantial. It had a wider
band around the bottom that decreased in width from two inches
near the cups to 1/2 an inch near the back hooks. The catalog
called this one a contour cup since it had a layer of fiberfill
lining the cups. The front was cut pretty low, so the bra
wouldn't show under a blouse with an open button, and a small
white lace flower decorated the front. The shoulder straps
adjusted in the back. I guessed that girls would have to have the
sales lady adjust it for them since the ring and slide was out of
reach. It came in sizes from 32 to 36, AA to B.
The third bra seemed to be made for chubby girls. It looked
a lot like my mother's utilitarian underwear, with plain white
nylon contour cups, wide stretch straps that adjusted in front,
and a wide stretchy bottom band that was two inches thick in the
back. I didn't like this one, since it reminded me of crabby
Linda Crawford, the noisiest and biggest breasted girl in my
school. Sure enough, this bra came in sizes from 32 to 42, AA - C
cups.
The last two teen bras that I saw were the prettiest. The
first one looked a lot like the bra mentioned before, except that
it had a normal tapering back to it. It looked like it was made
of a satiny nylon, and was available in very pretty colors; pink,
beige, powder blue, champagne and white. It seemed to be the kind
of bra that an older teenager would wear, right before she
graduated to full sized women's bras. It even had matching
panties with the same kind of lace trim.
The other bra was one of Sears Best. It was very low cut,
and had very thin shoulder straps that adjusted in the front. The
back band had a normal taper to it, but started off at an inch at
the cup, slimming down to less than a half an inch at the hooks.
The cups were very shiny, and were trimmed with narrow scalloping
lace. The styling was very grown up, but the cut was suited to a
young teenager. Suddenly, I wanted to tell Mrs. Morgan about my
needing a bra. I wanted to wear one like all the other girls in
the group. I began to love the idea of developing a bust, and
hoped that someday, Aunty would have me fitted for that very
style. I tucked the catalog under the bed, turned off the light,
and fell asleep with sweet dreams of young girlhood in my head.

CHAPTER 10 - CHRISSY'S PUNISHMENT
The next morning, I woke up at my usual time, and after my
usual bath, dressed quickly in my panties, tights and leotard.
Looking at myself in the mirror, I figured that I might be able
to hide the fact that I wasn't wearing a bra. Looking in Mrs.
Morgan's daughter's closet, I found a loose, cotton blouse that I
put on over my leotard. Luckily it matched with the stirrup
pants, and did a pretty good job of hiding my chest. Since I
wanted to minimize the possibility for hassle at class, I
succeeded in killing time around Mrs. Morgan's house, so that we
arrived at the theater exactly at 9:00 AM. After kissing Mrs.
Morgan goodbye, I hurried into the theater.
Mrs. Cataldo was already there, atop the chair that served
as her speaking platform. I put down my hobo bag, and sat down to
put on my ballet slippers. I removed the stirrup pants, but left
on the blouse, which I ****ted at the waist like I had seen girls
in school do.
No sooner had I finished ****ting the blouse, when Mrs.
Cataldo caught sight of my i*****l attire.
"Now Chrissy. You know better than that. We don't allow
blouses. Take it off, and come show us your new bra!"
I slowly unbuttoned the blouse and tried to figure out a way
to break the news that I didn't have a bra yet.
"Well, Mrs. Cataldo, my mother didn't have time to t.k. m..
sh.p.ing..." By now I was mumbling, hoping that she would fill in
the blanks for me.
"What's that Chrissy? We can't hear you!" The class crowded
around me as I finished unbuttoning the blouse.
"My mother didn't have time to take me shopping yesterday" I
blurted out while carefully examining my pink ballet slippers to
avoid looking anyone in the eye. "I don't have a bra yet"
'Well Chrissy, we don't really want to hear any excuses. You
can't be in rehearsal without a proper bra. I guess you'll have
to sit out rehearsal. How do you think your going to learn your
part for the play if you can't practice!" She shook her head
with disgust.
I felt like a ************ c***d being chewed out by his
first grade teacher.
"I promise I'll work like crazy for the rest of the week.
I'll be sure to get one tomorrow."
At least I'd be able to get through another rehearsal
without such an obviously feminine undergarment.
Suddenly, a girl in a green leotard, with a p*****n figure
and a broad smirk on her face stepped forward.
"I have an extra bra that would probably fit Chrissy!"
Mrs. Cataldo's face lit up like an airport runway. "How
thoughtful of you Sharon. I'm sure Chrissy would love to borrow
it! I know that you do wear the same size."
All I could do was to furiously shake my head.
Suddenly, five other girls volunteered that they too had
extra bras that would probably fit me. Mrs. Cataldo sent them
scurrying off to their hobo bags, and each one returned with a
wispy, nylon undergarment.
Mrs. Cataldo took each of the five bras, and approached my
quivering body.
"Well Chrissy, which one do you like best." I didn't
respond. I was paralyzed.
"I think this one should fit perfectly. Let's go try it on
OK?" She held out one of the growing girl's stretch bras that I
recognized from the Sears Catalog.
"A perfect growing girl's bra for a growing girl's figure"
The class giggled as she turned her attention back to the group.
"Sandy, please take over the class while I attend to Chrissy
here. We'll be right back."
With that, she grabbed me by the hand, ushered me off stage
and down to her office. Once inside, she turned on the lights,
and locked the door.
"Be a good girl and take down your leotard top Chrissy." She
pushed me down onto the stool next to her desk, and shook out the
bra which had been neatly folded into a ball.
The time had come to make a choice. I had been dreaming of
my first bra ever since I first dressed as a girl, and here was
the perfect opportunity to start wearing one. Granted, it was
going to be darn embarrassing to be seen by sixty odd girls
wearing a training bra, but as I gazed at the feminine garment
that dangled in front of my eyes, I began to get more excited
about the idea.
I could say that Mrs. Cataldo forced me into it. It wasn't
my idea. I had to meet the dress code tied to the theater group.
Putting caution to the wind, I nodded to Mrs. Cataldo, who
stepped behind me, and helped me slide my arms out of the shiny
long sleeves of the leotard. Soon, I was naked from the waist up,
while my leotard was gathered around my hips.
"Why didn't you ask Mrs. Morgan to get you a bra? You are
old enough for one dear, and Mrs. Morgan did tell me how much you
wanted her to take you shopping for one." Mrs. Cataldo softly
massaged my shoulders. Almost as if she was teasing me, she
allowed the satin bra which was hanging from her wrist, to brush
across my back. Every caress sent shivers up my spine, reminding
me that soon I would be wearing a training bra full time just
like all the other girls my age.
I shrugged as she continued her massage. "I guess I felt
really embarrassed about asking."
Mrs. Cataldo continued. "That's OK Chrissy. Most girls are
embarrassed when they start developing, and have to start wearing
one. Deep inside though, every girl that I know longs to go
shopping with her mother for her first. I'll bet that you're
excited too?"
How did she know how much I dreamed of this day? I nodded my
head.
"Well I'll tell you what. You can wear this one home when
Mrs. Morgan picks you up. I guarantee that she will notice your
new figure, and will offer to take you shopping. How's that
sound?" She leaned over and looked me in the eye.
"Great!" I said as I tried to stifle the urge to ask to look
at what soon would be covering my boobies. I couldn't believe how
Mrs. Cataldo seemed to be doing everything that she could to help
me through this awkward time in my life.
"I help a lot of my girls pop the bra question to their
mommies this way. That's why we have the dress code that we do."
She slid the bra off of her wrist and pulled out the
shoulder straps to their longest length. With two fingers, she
daintily held it out in front of me by the lengthened straps, and
instructed me to put my arms through both loops. With a deep
breath, I leaned forward and put my hands into the bra.
The feeling was incredible! The straps were made of this
shiny, stretchy, satin material, and they glided over my smooth
arms like an skate blade across ice. Soon, the straps were lying
over my shoulders. Mrs. Cataldo reached in front of me, pulled
the cups down over my breasts, and slid her hands along the
bottom band to the back set of hooks. As she pulled the back
together, I could see and feel the stretch satin cups, edged with
lace, lift and surround my small sized breasts causing them to
actually get bigger. I couldn't believe it. I actually had a
figure like the other *********** girls in the class. It was the
neatest thing, and the feeling was better than anything in the
world. I swore to myself that I would wear a bra every day from
now on.
"A perfect fit Mrs. Cataldo gushed. "Of course these stretch
types do fit young girls with a variety of figures. A lot
different than when I was a young girl." She began adjusting the
shoulder straps' ring and slide.
I looked down at my new figure that was perfectly encased in
nylon, and noticed that it looked just like the chests of the
girl's in the Sears Catalogs. I especially liked the pretty bow
that was sewed on between the cups.
"Do you remember when you got your first bra Mrs. Cataldo" I
asked as I stared at my likeness in the mirror?
She continued to adjust the straps. "Every girl remembers
getting her first bra. Of course I didn't have a fairy god mother
to broach the subject with my mom."
She winked at me as she tugged at the bra.
"I remember telling my mom that my blouses were irritating
my nipples, and asking her what to do about it. She told me that
I was turning into a young woman, and that I should start
training my figure. She took me down to the girl's department at
one of the women's shops downtown, and had me fitted for my first
bra. Back in those days, young women were expected to wear
girdles, garter belts and stockings, so mom bought me everything
that she thought an all-American girl should wear. The sales lady
was so embarrassing, telling me that she was going to make me so
pretty. After picking out an appropriately feminine bra, girdle
and garter belt, she showed me how to put everything on, and how
to attach my new nylons to the belt. To make a long story short
Chrissy, I also ended up getting my first permanent, my first
makeup kit and first sanitary napkin belt all in the same day. I
was so proud when we arrived home that I modelled my new things
for everyone. Mom and I spent all evening trying on my new
things, and playing with my makeup kit. That's how I learned how
much boys wanted bras too!"
"What do you mean" I asked as I looked at her with a
quizzical expression on my face?
She continued adjusting the straps. "Well, when I got home,
my brother who was one year younger than me was really interested
in my new things. He kept asking us lots of questions about why
girls needed bras and girdles, what it felt like to wear
stockings, and if he could have curly hair like mine. My dad was
away on business for the week, so my mom suggested that my
brother let us dress him up to show him what it was like. Mom
called Aunt Jane who lived across town, and they both helped us
into the new bras, girdles, garter belts, stockings and slips
that mom and I had purchased. Aunt Jane did my brother's hair
and taught us both how to put on makeup. After the makeup, my
brother and I looked like two twins. It was a really great
weekend. It did take a couple of weeks to learn how to hook the
bra and garters though. I kept having to ask my mom to hook me up
in the morning. She was as excited as I was about helping her
daughter to become a young woman. All mothers live for that
stuff." She finished with the shoulder straps, gave a quick
look-see, and pronounced me finished.
"How does it feel?" she asked as she helped me back into my
leotard.
"Wow!" I exclaimed as I looked at the new curves that peaked
out under the clingy leotard. The outline of my new bra was very
obvious under the black, lycra fabric, and I felt very grown up
as I traced the straps over the shoulders to the top of the cups.
"Did your brother ever play dress up again?" I asked as she
made sure that my bra straps were hidden under the leotard.
"When mom found out how much Bryan liked dressing up, she
encouraged me to lend him the clothes that I grew out of. Of
course he had to wait a year to wear a bra, but when he turned
thirteen, mom and I took him shopping for his very own bra,
girdle, garter belt, and stockings. After that, we became just
like sisters. We'd come home from school for the weekend, and
after dressing in our bras and girdles, we'd do each other's hair
and makeup. One summer vacation, mom and I even took him down
for a permanent."
"Did he like that?" I asked as we rose for the door.
"I'll say!" Mrs. Cataldo responded as he opened her office
door, and turned out the lights. "Probably as much as you would!"
To top off a fantastic day, rehearsal went better than it
ever had before. After checking to make sure that I was indeed
wearing the bra, all the girls seemed to be satisfied that I had
passed their initiation for joining the group. As a result, the
harassment ceased, and I concentrated on learning my part for the
play.

CHAPTER 10 - BUYING MY FIRST BRA
When rehearsal ended, I put on my pants, and following Mrs.
Cataldo's advice, left off the blouse that I wore that morning. I
packed up my hobo bag, and walked out to the parking lot with the
other girls. Mrs. Morgan was waiting in her car, and when I got
into the car, she immediately noticed that something was
different from this morning.
"Chrissy dear, did you forget something?"
"No why do you ask?" I asked nonchalantly.
"There's something different about you."
"I was so hot, I didn't put my blouse on after rehearsal."
It was tough not to blurt out that of course I was different
since I wasn't a *********** any more.
"No, it's something else. You look.....older. More mature. I
can't quite figure it out."
I looked at her with a stumped expression. How could she
miss the outline? Maybe I was going to have to ask her to take me
shopping anyway. I pulled back my shoulders to make the bra stand
out, but she failed to see any change in my physical
characteristics.
Arriving home, I entered the house before her, and she
finally noticed the back of my bra silhouetted under the leotard.

"Hang on. Come here for a minute."
I quickly turned around with a grin on my face.
"What's wrong?"
I walked over to where she was standing in the hallway. She
laid down her bag and brushed her hand down my back. A broad
smile ran across her face, and she reached out and touched my
breasts with her finger. A very pleasurable sensation ran down my
spine.
"Your wearing a bra!" she exclaimed, as I smiled in response
to her complement.
"Uh huh" I smiled. "Mrs. Cataldo told me that it was part of
the dress code. I was suppose to tell you yesterday, but I
forgot. This morning, Mrs. Cataldo insisted on me being properly
dressed, so she borrowed one from this girl in my class. How do I
look?"
I tried to turn to show her my new figure from all angles.
Mrs. Morgan stepped back and surveyed my new self. "You
look marvelous! You really have developed into a young lady. You
actually have a bust! Come here and look in the mirror."
She pulled me in front of the mirror that hung behind the
hall closet door and pulled down the top of my leotard.
I couldn't believe it. She was right. Originally, I thought
that my figure came from the bra that I was wearing. Looking now,
I could see that I had begun to develop curves like a teenaged
girl. Small, yet distinctive nipples could be seen through the
clingy fabric of the training bra.
"How can I have a bust. That's only for girls!?"
Mrs. Morgan looked at me and shook her head. "Well dear,
some boys actually have more girl in them than boy. When they
reach puberty, these boys begin to look, act and feel like girls.
The doctor at your new school told your step mother that you were
one of these kind of boys, and that she should have you spend the
summer with your aunt to see how things work out."
She traced the strap with her finger from the top of the cup
over my shoulder and continued her explanation.
"Your aunt told me how much you wanted to be a girl. Soon,
you'll get your wish. You're going to look just like a girl, so
obviously you can't go running around like a boy. People will
talk. So, your aunt and I are going to help you learn to be a
girl until you decide if you want to get medical help to try to
become a boy again. We felt that this would be the easiest way
for you. Don't you agree?"
I was so excited that I hugged Mrs. Morgan as hard as I
could.
Mrs. Morgan seemed to share my enthusiasm. "First things
first. This bra is a bit small for your figure. You really have
to be properly fitted. Otherwise, your bra will be
uncomfortable, and you won't wear it. You obviously need a bra
dear. You can't go walking around sticking out like you were
this morning. It isn't ladylike.
She walked over to the telephone and picked up the receiver.
"Let's call your aunt, and see what she thinks!" Mrs. Morgan
dialed my aunt's number.
"Hello Clara. This is Jane calling. Yes the costume fits
perfectly. She looks like an absolute angel. Blue is most
certainly her color."
I loved the way my new mother was calling me by a feminine
pronoun.
"No, no alterations will be needed. One thing though, have
you noticed that your niece is quite developed?"
I couldn't make out my aunt's responses, so I just listened
with my hands folded in my lap.
She continued. "Uhhuh.....Yes, quite a lot for her age. I
would say a double A......Oh yes.....The clingy fabric does
emphasize her bust. You can really see her nipples.....Of course.
I agree.....I'll take her down to get fitted this afternoon
before we go to Monica's.....Where?.....Well, I haven't shopped
for training bras since I was twelve.....Mmhmm. I'll call Alison
Schmidtt's mother. Yes, she works in the clothing business
....Alison.....One of the other pixies in the show.....Ok I'm
sure we'll manage.....Bye bye."
Mrs. Morgan hung up the phone, and immediately dialed
another call. I didn't pay any attention to the number, since I
was too busy trying to think what kind of bra Mrs. Morgan would
buy for me.
My aunt's voice woke me up from my day dream.
"Alison? Hi. This is Mrs. Morgan. Is your mother in dear?"
Mrs. Morgan didn't look at me, but softly rubbed my nylon encased
thighs with her hands.
"Nancy. Hi. This is Jane Morgan. How are things?
.....Great.....Oh really? That's very special.....Yes Alison is
doing a perfect job in the play. We're very happy with her
performance."
"Nancy, the reason I'm calling is that my niece Christine is
visiting from New York, and has decided to join our production.
Well we just tried on her pixie costume, and it's obvious that
this girl needs a bra.....Yes, quite developed for an eleven year
old.....Anyway, I figured that you might know where we can get
her properly fitted.....Umhmm.....Sears and Penneys?.....What
about a lingerie shop?.....Too small?..... Hmm.....Really?.....I
would have sworn the girl's shop in the strip mall would have a
great selection.....No dice hmm?.....Well fine.....What's
that?..... That would be wonderful!.....Great. we'll see you in
about fifteen minutes....Yes, she certainly is very
excited.....What? Who should I call?.....OK.....No problem." My
aunt blew a kiss in my direction.
"Great. Thanks again for your help. Bye bye." She hung up
the phone, and turning towards me, she pulled down the shoulders
of my leotard exposing my borrowed training bra.
"Guess what?" she exclaimed.
To excited to talk, I waited for her response.
"Mrs. Schmidtt has an appointment to get Alison fitted for a
bra too this afternoon, and she offered to take us along. Isn't
that great"
"Wow" I thought to myself. "I'll be able to see what's
going to happen to me before it happens." Besides, I thought
Alison was one of the cuter members of the theater troupe, and
the opportunity to see her in a bra, overcame any embarrassment
about being seen in one myself."
She continued. "The only thing to do is to get dressed, and
Why don't you go upstairs and take off your dance clothes. Put on
your panties and white stockings, and I'll be up to help you get
dressed. I have to call the store." She winked in my direction.
"Call me when you are ready." She handed me my vest, my pair of
white knee highs, and a pair of girl's flats and I headed into
her bedroom.
I carefully removed my leotard, bra and tights, and put on
my vest and kneehighs. My feet fit perfectly into the blue
leather shoes. They felt weird, almost like I was wearing
sandals. I grabbed her bathrobe from behind the door, and headed
back to the kitchen to ask her what to wear.
When I reached the top of the stairs, I could overhear Mrs.
Morgan talking on the phone, and I couldn't believe what she was
saying.
"Sandy, this is Jane Morgan calling. I'm a friend of Nancy
Schmidtts, and I hope you can help me....I have a special little
miss named Chrissy staying with me for the weekend. Chrissy is my
best friend's son. My friend caught him dressing up in his
sister's clothes, and she decided to have him dress as a girl as
punishment. You know, pinafore punishment? Anyway, my sister
asked me to really reinforce the experience, and what better way
than to have him fitted for a bra. Nancy said that you would be
fitting Alison this afternoon and might able to accommodate our
little priss at the same time."
I noticed that Mrs. Morgan was smiling something fierce.
"Great.....Yes.....Yes that would be perfect. Just make sure
that you treat him just like an *************** girl.....Great.
I'll see you in a half hour." She hung up the phone, and headed
back upstairs.
Without a sound, I tip-toed back into the bedroom, and put
my dance stuff away in my bureau. Although I was excited about my
first bra fitting, turning into a girl, and seeing Alison in a
bra and slip, I knew that I wasn't being punished for dressing up
in girl's clothes. This whole thing wasn't my fault, right? I
should probably speak up, and question her grasp of the facts.
Thinking better of this route, I decided to make believe
that I didn't overhear the conversation, and play along with the
routine.
"All right now. We have to get you dressed." Aunty entered
the room and walked over to the bed.
"Take off my robe, and put this on." She handed me a girl's
full slip.
"Yes mom." I could tell it was a girl's slip because it
didn't have much room for a bra in the top. Although I had never
worn a full slip before, I figured it was just like putting on my
nightgown. I put my arms through the satin ribbon straps, and
lowered it over my body. My aunt adjusted the shoulder straps so
that the slip hung evenly just above my knees.
"Now you have to get your hair trimmed in a style
appropriate for a pixie. You and Alison both have an appointment
to get your hair done at 4:00. First though, we have to get you
fitted for your bra. Now I can't bring a boy into the girl's
fitting room, so you'll have to dress as a girl for the
afternoon. You're going to have to make the change soon, so you
might as well start today. You shouldn't have any trouble."
She picked up a pink girl's polyester blouse and after
pulling my arms through the sleeves, began buttoning up the
front.
"But mom. I've never gone out in public as a girl before.
Everyone will find out that I'm a boy dressed like a girl." My
aunt finished buttoning the blouse, and lowered a blue, pleated
jumper over my head.
"Don't worry your silly little head. You make a perfect
girl, if you only do what I tell you. No one will know the
difference." She zipped and buttoned the back of the jumper, and
secured the shoulder sashes to the buttons on the front of the
skirt. She sat me down at her dressing table, dabbed my cheeks
with a bit of blush and powder, and applied a coating of lip
gloss to my lips "to make them wet and kissable" like all the
other girls my age. A few pumps of hair spray, and a bit of
teasing, turned my femme boy face into the perfect depiction of a
p*****n girl.
"So far, how does it feel to be starting on the journey to
becoming a young lady?"
"Great!" I beamed. With that, she handed me a purse, and we
headed into town.

CHAPTER 11 - CHRISSY GETS A BUST
As the car hurdled down the highway, a zillion things were
going through my mind. First off, I hadn't worn a skirt since the
Halloween party at my grandmother's house, and the feeling of
wearing this short jumper was very different from the girl's
slacks that I was use to. The blouse, slip and panties were shiny
and very slippery, so every movement caused the clothes to tickle
my skin. In addition, girl's blouses were kind of thin, so the
top of my slip showed through the fabric. Looking in the mirror,
I looked like a ***********, but after my trip to the beauty
salon, and a new bra, I hoped that I would look like any other
teenager.
Second, I had no idea what to expect at the hairdresser.
Back when I was five, I had asked my grandmother about her weekly
trip to Melissa's Beauty Salon. I had already had my hair cut at
a men's barbershop, and knew that her hair looked a lot different
than mine. Hers smelled like perfume, had lots of curls, and
stayed in place no matter what she did. Mine was straight, got
all mussed up in the wind, and smelled like my dad's aftershave.
She told me that Melissa's salon made people pretty, and did
special things to girls my age who wanted to be pretty. I told
her that I wanted to be pretty just like at Halloween, and asked
her if I could have my hair done like hers. She and my mother
both laughed, and told me if I was good, that someday they might
make an appointment for me.
Alas, my grandmother died soon after, and my mother was
never home long enough to take me. I had asked my dad about it,
and he told me that boys weren't suppose to be pretty, and that
mother would never take me to such a place. Now here I was,
sitting in a car, and all my wishes were coming true.





















=======

From: nostrumo@nienor.IN-Berlin.DE (Nostrumo)

Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.tg

Subject: Repost TG: The Surprise Vacation by an unknown author and
Tristmegistus (1/6)




The Surprise Vacation

by an unknown author and Tristmegistus

1. Chapter - Innocent Beginnings

"Did you take your vitamin, dear?" Ellen called from the bathroom.

I rubbed sleep from my eyes and picked up the pill bottle, rolling a big
tablet into my palm. "My horse pill? I'm doing it now."

"Have you noticed any difference yet?"

"Nah. Vitamins are pretty much all alike." She'd gone on a minor health
kick a month before, insisting that I needed to lose a little weight and
take better care of myself. I hadn't actually made it to the gym to work
out like she was though.

"Where's my underwear honey?" I asked my wife, poking through my almost
empty drawer. It was Saturday morning. I had noticed that my underwear
had been disappearing from my drawer over the last couple of weeks. I
thought nothing of it, figuring that she'd simply been too busy to do
laundry.

"Something went wrong with the washing machine and it ruined everything
in the last load," she said.

"Well, what am I going to wear?"

She emerged from the bathroom, dipped into her side of the dresser.
"Here, put these on," she smiled, handing me a pair of her pink satin
panties. "Now don't give me any fake macho bullshit. I know you love
wearing my panties. In fact, I know you've secretly worn this very pair
before."

I looked at her dumfounded. I thought that I'd successfully hidden my
fetish from her. I'd been so careful.

"C'mon, let's put these on you,"she teased. I was beet red as I numbly
stepped into them and let her pull them up to my hips. She stroked my cock
through the fabric, a lot like I often did. "Mmmm, I see that someone
finds this exiting. We may have to keep it like that." I wasn't sure what
she meant by that remark, but was too embarrassed to ask. I hurriedly put
the rest of my clothes on, jeans and a T-shirt. She gave me a slightly
disapproving look and said, "Well, I need take you shopping and get some
new underwear for you, among other things."

I said, "Can't you just pick up some for me? I want to look at that
washing machine and watch the football game."

Since she absolutely despises football, this would normally have set her
off on a tirade, but surprisingly, she just smiled sweetly and said, "Don't
worry about the washer. I fixed it myself. Go ahead and enjoy your
football honey. I'll get everything you need."

So while she was shopping, I lay on the couch stroking myself through
the panties, embarrassed that my wife knew of my fetish, but relieved that
she seemed so low key about it. The game turned out to be pretty boring
and I thought about raiding her closet for something else to wear, but now
that she knew, I couldn't bring myself to do it. Instead, I ended up
taking a nap. I woke up when she came home, loaded with bags from various
stores. I started to get up to help.

"Just stay there, I'll put everything away. What do you say that we go
out for dinner?"

"That sounds like a good idea."

"Great. But first, I have a surprise for you. Stand up and close your
eyes." I remembered that teasing look, that flirtatious tone. We hadn't
played sex games in a long time. In fact, we hadn't done anything sexual
in a long time. With a smile, I stood and did as she asked. The next
thing I knew, she pulled my hands behind my back and locked them with a
pair of handcuffs!

"What's this all about?"

"No comments from the peanut gallery," she said as she put some sort of
gag in my mouth.

Whatever it was filled up my whole mouth, all the way to the top of my
throat! As I explored it with my tongue, I realized that it was a penis
gag. What was going on?

"Now come along peacefully, or I'll have to take further steps." With
that I followed her into the bathroom. She took my hands and tied a strap
to them and pulled it up to the shower curtain, forcing me to bend over at
the waist. She then took a pair of scissors and proceeded to cut my
clothes off, ruining jeans I could have just stepped out of. It was all
pretty kinky, even for Ellen's sometimes bizarre moods, but except for the
embarrassment of having something shaped like a penis in my mouth, it
seemed harmless.

"You won't be needing those anymore," she said, tossing the rags that
had been my jeans and tee-shirt down the laundry chute.

She then took some shaving cream and a razor and proceeded to shave
every bit of hair below my eyebrows. I definitely didn't like the turn
things were taking, but fighting her while she stroked my most private
parts didn't seem like a good idea - and there wasn't a whole lot I

could do about it, anyway.

"I think that since you like wearing panties so much, you should have
the experience of everything else that goes along with it," she explained
as she worked over my underarms. "You'll find that all of your old clothes
have been replaced with something more suitable for your new station. I
think that about does it. Step in the shower and let's rinse you off."

There was nothing I could do except slide the strap down the bar and
step under the water. I was bewildered. Surely she hadn't really thrown
out all my clothes! As she rinsed all of the hairy soap off of my body, my
skin felt strange, tingly and oddly alive. She spent more time on my
weirdly naked penis, making it swell again. She patted me dry all over
with a big, soft towel and spread skin conditioner all over me, dwelling on
my semi-hard penis.

"Well that looks much better, but we'll have to do something about your
figure. That waistline will never do. You haven't been losing enough
weight, darling. Follow me and we'll take care of it."

As we walked into the bedroom, I saw some clothes laid out on the bed.
There was a corset, panties, stockings, and a short dress. She began to
put the corset on me, and said, "Your arms are in the way." With that, she
reached into one of the bags and pulled out a leather collar. She then put
some leather cuffs on my wrists, unlocked the metal ones, and quickly
hooked my hands behind my head to the collar.

This was starting to get too weird. Our sex games had died out a year
or so before. I'd known she was curious about bondage and stuff, but had
laid down the law and said no. I tried to talk around the thing in my
mouth, but she ignored me. I was able to offer only token

resistance as my arms were asleep and numb from being pulled up and back
for so long. Next, she started hooking up the corset and pulling the laces
in behind me. Soon I couldn't breathe and still she was tightening the
laces.

"Is that uncomfortable? Too bad. It'll give you incentive to lose that
extra weight you've been ignoring, won't it?" With a final savage jerk, she
finished adjusting the laces with a full ****. "I think you'll have an
interesting time trying to untie that by yourself."

I silently agreed. It was more like being in a straight jacket than
lingerie. But there was an illicit thrill to it, despite my deepening
worry that she was going way too far with her fun.

"Now let's put some panties on you. Which pair would you like? You
don't care? That's no way for a lady to show interest in her appearance. I
guess we'll try this new pair of pink satin ones I bought you. Now you
don't have to steal mine, love. Oh, my! You really look cute in them."

Next came a set of latex breast forms which she teasingly placed in the
corset's half cups to fill out my chest. After that she rolled some
stockings up each leg, hooked them to the garters on the corset, and
smoothed them out. She quickly admired her work while I tried not to, too
embarrassed for words, even if the gag hadn't been in my mouth.

"Let's see how this dress I picked out for you fits." With that she
picked up a shimmery peach colored dress and worked it over the tangle of
my head and arms. As it fell over my breasts and hips it came down to only
mid-thigh.

She looked at me with a grin on her face and said, "Don't you look
adorable! You'll have to be very careful and ladylike when you sit or bend
over or the world will see your garters and panties. Only a slut would act
like that. If you act like a slut, I'll have to treat you like one."

What did she mean by 'the world will see you?' I didn't like the
implications in that statement.

"Step into these shoes," she said with the air of command, as she placed
a pair of matching peach shoes with about a 3-1/2 in heel on the floor.

I'd rarely dared to play with her high heels. They were a little too
tight, but the real reason I usually avoided them was because they awoke in
me a shame powerful enough to counterbalance the excitement of cross
dressing. I found it was tremendously difficult to keep my balance with my
hands fastened behind my neck.

"Now it's time for your makeup. I'm going to remove the gag, but I
don't want to hear a single word or I'll put it back in and leave it there
for a whole day." Ellen gave me a look that indicated she clearly meant it.

Well, I figured, we've gone this far, so why fight it. Besides,
cosmetics were another thing I'd never had the guts to try, and I'd often
fantasized about how I'd look. She spent the next thirty minutes
completing my makeup, going through foundation, eyeshadow, eyeliner, and
mascara, adding a light blush, and finishing with a bright, deep rose
lipstick. She topped it off with a light brown shoulder length wig.

"Now you can look at yourself," she said as she led me to a mirror.

I couldn't believe it! A beautiful girl looked back at me. If she was
alone in a bar, every guy in there would hit on her. The dress had a
scooped front almost to my breast forms, which were ample. It also showed
a very flattering figure. No wonder I couldn't breathe. Looking at the
reflection in the mirror, the hemline seemed even shorter, at least six
inches above my knees.

I heard a soft "click." I turned around, and my wife was taking pictures
of me!

"You can't admire yourself all day, sweetie. We've got a busy afternoon
and evening ahead of us."

My heart sank. She was really going to force me to go out dressed like
this! I started to speak, wanting to talk her out of it, but she picked up
the cock-shaped gag and moved ominously toward me. I shut up. With that,
my wife changed into a plain dress and fluffed her hair, not even bothering
to use any makeup on herself, which was unusual. She noted my confusion
and said, "I don't want to steal any of the attention you deserve, honey."

She clipped a leash to my collar and led me to the garage. As she
opened the passenger door, I began to fight her. "Honey what are you
trying to -"

She pushed me off balance, which wasn't hard, and stuffed the gag back
in my mouth, immediately strapped it behind my head. "I warned you! Now
you'll have to pay the price for disobedience!" She pushed me again and I
fell into the passenger seat. She buckled the seat belt.

Bound as I was, with my hands behind my head, there was no way I could
do anything but go along.

As she drove us away, she said, "I know you're dying of curiosity,
sweetie, wondering what this is all about. It's simple really. I noticed
about six months ago that my clothes and lingerie had been rearranged
almost every time you're home and I'm not. I started carefully marking my
hangers and drawers to confirm my suspicions, and I can name every time you
snuck into something sexy and even tell you what you wore. Really, I don't
mind, honey. In fact, it really turns me on. So I'm going to make sure
that you live your fantasy to the fullest. It's really perfect, because MY
fantasy is to dominate my husband completely and I'm going to act that out,
too."

I couldn't believe it! She must have caught on almost the very first
time I gave in to the impulse to see if silky feminine clothes felt as
wonderful as they looked. Well, the first time since I was a k**, anyway.

"I've arranged for you to take a two week surprise vacation starting
Monday. Your boss thinks that we're going on a cruise." She giggled. "In
a way, we are, aren't we? For the next two weeks, you're going to live
entirely as a female and follow my every command. If you give me

any shit at all, I'll send those pictures of you admiring yourself to
your boss and secretary. I think they'd get a good laugh from them, don't
you? To get you ready for our little adventure, we're going to the mall to
do some shopping for your vacation."

I kept hoping it was all a joke. That any moment she'd turn the car
around, laughing at how she'd scared me, and we'd play for a while in bed,
then it'd be over. But my guts were cold. I couldn't talk myself into
believing it'd happen that way. I knew she was dead serious. As we pulled
into the mall parking lot she said, "In case you're having any thoughts
about running away, remember that you don't have any car keys, wallet or
money. If you don't do exactly as I say, I'll leave you here to get back
on your own."

She was right! Trying to get home without her, dressed like this,
wasn't an option. I couldn't even think of hitchhiking. Cold sweat popped
out on my brow as I realized that I was stuck. I had to do what she said.
I didn't even want to think of what her plans were.

2. Chapter - The Mall

I was terrified. There I was, tied into my car seat, dressed as a woman
from high heels to wig, with my wrists handcuffed to a leather collar
around my neck, for all the world to see. And my wife had driven me to the
shopping mall to shop for clothes to complete my wardrobe. I wanted to cry
out in frustration and terror, but there was a penis-shaped gag buried in
my throat. The excitement I'd felt at home was long gone.

After she stopped the car in the parking lot, she turned to me and
unlocked the collar, cuffs, and removed the gag from my mouth. "Now, can I
trust you to behave in here, or will I have to really embarrass you? And
by behave I mean do everything I say without question."

With a numb feeling in my stomach I said, "Yes honey, I'll be good."

"Wonderful! I know we're going to have a marvelous time."

With that, she made me fix the lipstick the gag had smeared, and showed
me how to powder my sweaty forehead. We got out of the car and walked into
the mall. The heels caused my hips to sway noticeably. I did my best to
minimize it.

She looked at me with a grin and said, "My, aren't we calling attention
to ourselves!" and laughed merrily. "Our first stop is at the beauty
parlor. We don't have that much time, so today we'll just touch up your
makeup and do your nails. Your hair can wait until tomorrow. I've already
made an appointment for you."

The voyage through the crowded mall was tremendously humiliating. I
kept waiting for someone to recognize me, or see through the disguise my
wife had applied and sneer at a man in a short dress and makeup. It was
almost a relief to near the beauty shop. While I didn't draw any

of the disgusted looks I was afraid of, I got way too much attention,
and the appreciative smiles were almost worse than mockery would have been.

We walked into the parlor, and she talked to the receptionist. "Hello.
I called earlier for a 'special appointment' for Sheila."

A pretty brunette overheard and approached. "Hi! I'm Cindy and
everything is ready. Follow me please." She led us past the filled
stations into a back room. "Please have a seat here." I looked at the
chair and then my wife with some misgivings.

"SIT DOWN! You heard what the lady said!" my wife commanded and shoved
me into the chair. Before I could recover, she pulled two velcro lined
straps out of her purse and quickly strapped my arms to the armrests,
rendering me completely helpless. "Now sit there quietly, or I'll have to
take further steps."

The stylist was trying, though not very hard, to cover a big smirk on
her face.

"Go ahead and start on her. I don't think she'll give you any trouble.
How long do you think this will take?"

"For everything you asked for, about an hour and a half."

"Good, I'll be back then. I've got some shopping to do. If she gives
you any trouble, feel free to take whatever action you think is
appropriate." She then walked out of the store, leaving me alone with the
stylist.

"You aren't going to make any trouble, are you?" she teased.

I shook my head no, not trusting my voice. Sounding like a man would've
been too embarrassing, and I'd feel like a fool if I tried a false woman's
voice.

"Too bad. I think I'd enjoy disciplining and humiliating you. You're
obviously into it. Maybe I should see if my boyfriend would look as good
as you do dressed up."

That definitely made me decide not to resist - as if I could have
anyway. I did my best to ignore her flattery, too. The last thing I wanted
to do was look too much like a woman.

"Debbie here is going to do your nails, and I'll be giving you a light
makeover. Your lady friend made a separate appointment for your hair for
tomorrow." She turned her attention to my face and began working me over as
Debbie began my nails.

Sixty minutes later, she was still working on my face, and Debbie had
mockingly told me to remove my hose so she could do my toenails. The bands
around my wrists made that impossible, of course, and I cringed as the girl
touched me and did it herself. I kept my eyes closed, unable to face the
changes being made to me. The worst part was having my eyebrows plucked
into shape. How could I hide that when the "vacation" was over?

"This is a 'light' makeover?" I wondered to Cindy in a safe whisper,
trying to joke. "How long does it take for a complete job?" I really
didn't want to know.

At that moment my wife walked in with a shopping bag. "How are we
coming? Oh, she looks just darling!" she said as she grinned at me. She
then bent over and admired my bright red toenails. Confirming that Debbie
was finished, she rolled my hose part way up and began digging

through a huge shopping bag.

"What are you doing, honey?" I asked in a meek, gender neutral voice.

"Oh, I didn't think that those shoes were flattering enough, so I
dropped into the Wild Pair to find you something prettier. I know you're
just dying to wear them, but with that corset on I don't imagine you can
bend over far enough to strap them on."

That was an understatement! While I'd gotten used to taking shallow
breaths in the corset, there was no way I could bend that far down. I
couldn't see what the shoes looked like from the angle I was sitting in the
chair, but I could tell they had a much higher heel than the other set.

"There!" Cindy announced proudly. "That about finishes you. How are
you coming, Debbie?"

"Just a few minutes to let the last coat dry." After about five very
uncomfortable minutes of listening to girl talk, she said, "That about does
it. Let's stand up and have a look at you."

My wife then removed the velcro straps, freeing me from the chair. I
stood up and almost fell. I looked down at my shoes. They were a pair of
cream ankle straps with at least a five inch heel. I could barely stand in
them. It was amazing what a difference an inch and a half made. I then
looked in the mirror, for the first time, and almost didn't recognize
myself. The person standing there was a short, truly beautiful, entirely
feminine woman staring back at me with wide,

shocked, expertly made up eyes! Her skin looked perfectly smooth and
her lips were strikingly highlighted. I reflexively raised my hands to my
face, not believing what I was seeing, and then noticed my nails. One full
inch long and a deep liquid red - exactly the color of my skillfully
painted lips and toes.

My wife smiled approvingly at me and said, "Don't they look lovely,
Sheila?"

"Y ... Yes," I stammered, too shocked to lie. "They're beautiful. I
can't believe it!"

As she paid Cindy and we turned to go, she said, "By the way, I asked
her to use a permanent set on the nails. You won't be able to remove
them."

I looked down at my hands in shock. How could you hide nails like that?
What would I do at the end of the two weeks? I knew enough about it to
realize that even if I cut them off, they'd be unnaturally thick.

"Let's go, Sheila, we've got plenty still to do. Now it's time for some
clothes shopping. With a gorgeous bod and sexy face like you have, we have
to get you some 'hot' outfits to match."

I slowly emerged from my state of shock, and wished I hadn't. I was
drawing even more attention now. The way men were staring at me left no
doubt as to their thoughts. I stayed as close to Ellen as I could as she
slowly toured store fronts.

Our first stop was "The Body Shop." My wife had me try on countless
outfits in the dressing room. It was sheer torture, climbing into and out
of one revealing outfit after another. I was horrified of being recognized
and arrested for this perversion. She ended up picking out a short black
leather skirt with matching bustier, and a white satin minidress with a
deeply scooped neckline. Then she made me pay for the items with my
American Express Card - with my real name on it! The sales clerk gave me a
shocked look and then a big smirk. My face turned beet red from
embarrassment. My slim hand shook as I tried to grip the pen and sign the
sales slip with my too long nails.

We went from store to store for about two more endless hours. I must
have tried on forty outfits and purchased at least a dozen. My ribs were
killing me from the constant pressure of the corset and my feet ached from
walking and standing in those incredible heels.

"Here we go. One last stop," my wife said as we turned into another
boutique. "Why don't you have a seat for a couple of minutes."

She didn't have to tell me twice. I was exhausted. I sat in the chair
she indicated, relieved to get a load off of my feet. I carefully smoothed
my hemline as I sat down (I'd learned this lesson the hard way through some
embarrassing comments and looks from other shoppers). I was so tired, I
didn't know what store I was in, and really didn't care. I let my eyes
close.

One of the clerks came up behind me and said, "Just sit still now."
There was a sudden, intense burning sensation in my right ear. My eyes
leapt open, and I tried to get up. She held my head firmly with one hand
and said, "Just a few seconds. Hold still." The sharp pain was

repeated in the other ear. She then rubbed both with some alcohol and
fiddled with each ear for a few seconds. "There, that does it. You can
get up now."

I stood up and looked in the mirror. She had pierced my ears and placed
a little gold ball in each of them! What would I do at the at the end of
two weeks? Those holes in my ears were going to take a long time to heal
over.

"Okay, that finishes us here. It's time for us to go home and get ready
to go out tonight."

With that, we walked back towards the car - slowly, because I was forced
to take such mincing steps in the tall shoes.

As we got into the car I turned and said, "Honey, this is ridiculous.
Look at my hands! I can't -"

She slapped me hard on the cheek, staggering me. She immediately pulled
out a pair of handcuffs, put them on me, and secured them behind me to the
headrest, making me completely helpless.

"I can see that you need a lesson to show you that I mean business.
When I'm finished with you, you're going to beg me to dress you up, take
you out, and make you look as pretty and sexy as possible! We both know
that you've secretly dreamed about this. Well it's happening and there's
not a damned thing you can do to stop it! The sooner you realize that
you're no longer in control of what happens to you, the happier you'll be!"

"But honey," I whined, "don't you think that this's a little -"

She rammed the gag back in my mouth. "What were you saying dear? I
didn't catch it? Oh well, I guess it wasn't very important."

We pulled away from the mall with me helpless in the passenger seat,
thankful that the tinted windows offered me a little protection from casual
observation.

As I began to look around me I realized that this was not the way home.
Where was she taking me now?

She noticed me squirming and looking around and said, "Don't know where
we're going? Well, as much as you deserve to be humiliated more in public,
that'll have to wait. I just have to pick something up."

My relief quickly turned to chagrin as we stopped and I looked at where
we were. It was a shop entitled "Exotic Leather Goods."

"I need to grab a few things to ensure that you learn your lesson
properly. Don't do anything naughty while I'm gone."

So there I was, tied into the passenger seat for any passers by to see,
trapped in a feminine appearance and clothing with an artificial penis
filling my mouth. Now that we'd stopped, the tinted windows weren't nearly
dark enough.

Suddenly, I saw a man approaching, walking towards the car. He was
casually looking at each of them as he passed by. Would he notice me
through the window? My heart was racing a mile a minute. Just as it
looked as if he would pass right by, he stopped and did a double take. HE
SAW ME! He stood there looking in the window for at least a full minute
with a big grin on his face while I tried to become invisible. Just about
that time my wife came up to the car with a bag in her hand.

"Enjoying the view?" she casually asked the man.

"Sure am, honey," he replied with a leer. "Do you always keep her tied
up like that?" He thought I was a real woman!

"She prefers it that way," my wife laughed. "She's my display model.
Feel free to look all you want, but don't touch."

The man kept up his lewd stare while Ellen loaded her purchases. He
waved gaily, still laughing, as he walked away. With that she got in
started the car. As she drove us home, she said, "I was planning to take
you out for a nice dinner and dancing tonight, but you obviously

don't deserve a reward like that yet. So, instead I'm going to teach
you a lesson in obedience. When I'm through with you, you'll beg me to
dress you up in sexy outfits so you can show off."

brother, was I in trouble. I was afraid to even think of what my
"lesson" would be. I was sure that it would not be pleasant, but I knew
there was no way she could make good on her promise that I'd want her to
expose me publicly.

Finally, we pulled into the garage. My wife leaned over and connected
my wrist cuffs to the collar. After that she disconnected my hands from
the headrest, giving me no chance to get free. She then reached into her
big purse, pulled out a leash, and connected it to the collar. Getting her
bag, my wife got out of the car and came around to my door. I still could
not move because I was strapped in by the seat belt. She unhooked it and
gave a tug on the leash.

"Come along now, Sheila," she ordered as we walked into the house. We
stopped in the kitchen.

"The first thing we need to work on is this tendency of yours to talk
back and question everything I say. After all, I can't keep that gag in
your mouth all the time. Unless, of course, you like the feel of something
shaped like a cock in your throat."

I shook my head violently.

"Well then, you need to show me that you can behave. Believe me, I hate
keeping that beautiful mouth of yours gagged all the time. There are so
many better uses for it."

Having said that she pulled what looked like a leather sleeve with some
laces running down the length out of the bag of things she'd just bought.
She then walked out of the room for a few seconds and returned with several
pieces of rope. She unlocked the wrist cuffs and had me

put my hands behind my back. She then secured them with the hands
facing.

Next, she picked up the sleeve and slid it up my arms, securing it with
some straps in front of my shoulder, guaranteeing that it would not come
off. Then she began tightening the laces, straightening my arms and
pulling my elbows together until they were about four inches apart.

It hurt like hell and forced me to pull my shoulders back and arch my
back to accommodate the position of my arms. My arms and shoulders began
to ache almost immediately.

"My, aren't you the brazen little slut!" she laughed as she looked at
me. I had to admit that the way my back was arched did throw out my chest,
emphasizing my big breasts. Next, she took a long length of rope, tied it
to a ring on the sleeve below my hands and ran it to a hook in the ceiling.
That ring! She'd had me put that in the ceiling last week to hold a heavy
planter. How long had she been planning this? A tug on the rope brought
me back to the present. As she pulled on the rope, it forced me to bend at
the waist while she pulled my arms towards the ceiling. Tying the rope off
onto a doorknob, she commented, "There, that should keep you. Comfy?"

Hardly! I was still in those ridiculous heels and this position forced
all of my weight onto my toes, which were already in agony. Adding to
this, the bent over position made the corset so tight that I was gasping
for breath in tiny pants. I felt like I was going to pass out.

The next thing I knew she was pulling my dress up over my waist,
exposing my pantied bottom. Then she pulled the panties down around my
ankles.

"Are you ready for your first punishment?"

I had no way to say no, of course.

She fumbled around in the bag. When I looked, she had pulled out a
leather paddle. There was no doubt what her intended target was. Bound as
I was, there was also not a single thing that I could do about it.

SMACK! She connected right on my bare ass with a stinging blow. "I
think that fifty good ones is about right for talking back to your
mistress, don't you?"

SMACK! She continued. After about twenty, I lost all control and was
crying like a baby. Each stroke seemed to sting more than the one before
it. Finally, she reached fifty. My entire behind felt like it was on
fire. She then pulled the panties up and pulled my hem down again.

"That was just your first punishment. I told you that you would never
forget this lesson. I'll be back in a little while. I'm going to take a
shower and rest a bit. My arms are tired. Don't go anywhere."

Her arms were tired! At my ass and thigh's expense! I stood there,
miserably bent over, dreading the next punishment, and wondering what it
would be.

3. Chapter - Punishment

I'm sure my wife was gone no more than an hour, but it felt like days. I
was trapped there, standing on my cramping toes in those tall high heels,
bent forward at the waist, exposing my swat-inflamed, pink pantied rear
under the hem of my short peach dress. My eyes burned

from sweat and tear-dissolved makeup that'd run into them while she
spanked me with the heavy leather paddle. I could barely breathe because
of the way I was tied and tight corset cinching my waist into nothingness.
There was nothing for me to do but suffer and ruminate on my situation.

I was trapped by more than my agonizing posture. She'd taken pictures
of me and threatened to give them to my boss and secretary if I gave her
any trouble for the next two weeks of my surprise vacation. She'd made me
watch her drop them off at a fifty-minute photo place at the

mall, and I was positive she had the prints hidden somewhere I'd never
find them. All because I'd secretly tried on her panties and a few other
clothes a couple of times! Okay, to tell the truth, it was more than a
couple of times. Now, she was determined to turn me into Sheila, a sexy
little crossdresser who'd beg to be allowed to go out dancing so she could
be seen and admired!

A dizzy wave of pain made me start crying again. I suddenly stiffened.
What if that wasn't all she wanted to make me do? What if she was trying
to do more than show off my cute ass and pouty red mouth? She'd already
called me 'slut' a couple of times. What if she meant it?

I almost fainted. I had to end this before it went any further. She'd
promised me still more punishment, and I didn't think I could take any
more. Maybe, if I acted the way she wanted, she'd relent. More
importantly, if I cooperated, there was sure to be a chance to catch her
off guard and escape before any real damage was done.

By the time I finally heard the door open, I was in such total agony
that thinking of ways to escape my feminization was the last thing on my
mind. I'd have done anything simply to be allowed to stand up straight. I
was dizzy from the unending struggle to breathe. My legs

were cramped into fiery pillars of pain. I tried to sob out around the
penis gag what was supposed to be her name.

"Well, well," she drawled from behind me, "don't you look sexy! How's
that nice little ass feel now, Sheila? Still hot and pink as your
panties?"

I heard her walking across the vinyl floor until she was right behind
me. Between my quivering legs, I saw that she'd changed into some shoes I'd
never seen before. The black high heels must have been six inches tall and
were tipped with narrow metal spikes. Her ankles were

covered in black mesh hose. I jumped when I felt her hand on my ass,
then tried to stand very still for whatever she was going to do. She
petted me between my cheeks.

"Is it too tender, darling? Oh, dear. It's hard to answer me with that
nasty gag in your mouth, isn't it?"

I nodded frantically.

"Will you be a good girl if I take it out?"

I nodded so hard that time that I almost dislocated my shoulders.

I gasped the instant the thing slid out of my dried lips. I wanted to
scream at her to turn me loose. Instead, I croaked out, "Thank you."

"Why you're quite welcome, dear. Would you like to stand up?"

"Please!" My voice shook wildly.

"One little thing, and I'll loosen the rope." I heard her dig through
the bag of things she'd bought and wondered what my next torture was. She
tugged my panties down and ran a finger lubricated with something cold and
slick over my exposed asshole. Then, she eased the finger inside me. It hurt like hell, but what could I do? If I screamed or
protested, she'd do it anyway and leave me tied in this bent forward
position - or something worse. I gritted my teeth and endured as best as I
could.

She wiggled the finger inside me and ran it in and out a couple of
times. Cold sweat again popped out all over me, but there was a strange
heat, also. When she pulled her hand away, I thought she was finished.
Then I felt something cold and hard being pressed into me,

something much fatter than a finger. It spread me so wide I thought I
was going to have to scream, then narrowed, letting my sphincter muscle
clamp around it.

"Very good, honey. In case you're wondering, that's your very own butt
plug. I'm sure it's painful, but you'll get used to it. I expect you to
wear it at all times unless I tell you otherwise. Is that clear?"

I nodded jerkily.

"Say it!"

"Yes," I choked out. "I understand."

When she unhooked the rope from the doorknob and let me stand, I
staggered and almost collapsed. Even the tiny breathing space the tight
corset gave me felt wonderful. I gasped as deep lungfuls of air as I
could. I barely noticed her loosening the long leather sleeve laced up my
arms, locking my elbows together, but I was sure aware of the added freedom
and the lessening torture.

She had to help me to a chair, holding me by my wrists, still cuffed
behind my back. I hissed when I sat, both from tender ass cheeks and the
suddenly more noticeable discomfort of the thing buried in my ass.

Until then, I hadn't looked at her, and what I saw shocked and
frightened me. She looked nothing at all like my wife! She was wearing a
shiny, form-fitting black latex bodysuit that looked

something like wildly cut one piece swimwear. There was a seam down the
middle decorated with silver studs. The outfit made her nipples stand out
and was buried in the valley between her pussy lips. The stiletto heels
made her much taller than I was, even in the five inch heels I wore. Her
eyes were made up in a way that reminded me of Cleopatra, with immense
lashes and eyeliner and silver eye shadow drawn out almost to her temples.
Her lips were a deep, deep red that made

her teeth look too white. "Oh dear, you look terrible! Have you been
ruining your makeup by crying?"

I nodded, shocked by her appearance. I heard myself whine, "It hurt."

"It was supposed to," she said like she was explaining something obvious
to a c***d. "And that was nothing compared to what I'll do if you start
misbehaving again." She tied my bound wrists to the chair and brought me
some water. I sipped thirstily until I noticed how badly I had to pee.
It'd been a long time since I'd used the toilet. And about then the blood
flowing through my arms began to tingle, then burn, hurting almost as badly
as being tied had.

"It'll pass," she said with a grin.

"Can I use the bathroom? Please?"

"Soon. But first we've got to get you looking pretty again. Do you
know how much the makeover you ruined cost?"

So she led me back to the bedroom. I couldn't help noticing how the
butt plug made me walk even more enticingly than I had merely in the high
heels. Was there no end to my humiliation? I had to endure another
eternal thirty minutes at her vanity before I was allowed to pee - sitting
down, of course, with my wife standing there impatiently. I couldn't help
but sigh my relief as yet more room was made for me to breathe. As I stood
for her to pull my panties up, I was amazed that I felt almost comfortable
in the corset and heels.

"Such a sexy smile," she observed, tucking my penis back between my
legs. Her fingers lingered there. Her incredibly lush, wet lips hovered
inches from mine, and I felt myself begin to harden in her hand. "Do you
feel good, love?"

"A little," I confessed, reminding myself that I had to go along with
her mad game.

"Don't you feel pretty?"

"Kind of."

"Pretty enough to go out to dinner now?"

I blushed. "I'm awfully tired. Can we do that another time?" My penis
was at full erection by then, and she was showing no sign of stopping.

"But you would if I insisted?"

My hips rocked in time with her caress under my short skirt. "I'd have
to. I know what'd happen if I tried to fight you."

"Oh, no you don't," she whispered into my face. "It'd be a hundred
times worse than you can imagine, Sheila. Trust me on that. You don't
want to ever do anything that'd make me angry. Never again. Understand?"

I nodded, feeling her stroking hand more clearly than I heard her soft
words. The way she was rubbing me through the silky material of the
panties was driving me wild. I parted my lips, leaning forward to kiss
her. She quickly pulled away and squeezed my balls with enough force to
make me feel nauseated.

"Ah, ah! None of that, darling. I'll not have you smearing that pretty
lipstick of yours until I tell you to. Is my baby getting all hot? Her
sweet clittie's swollen so big. Would she like me to make her cum?"

"Yes," I whispered. "Please."

"You'd cum in your panties and then sleep in them?"

"Yes. I don't care. Just -"

"You'd lick and suck my pussy until I told you to stop, and then cum in
them for me?"

Oral sex had always disgusted me. "Yes! Anything you want!"

She dropped her hand and took me back to the bedroom, pushing me to my
knees beside the bed. She quickly opened a velcro closure hidden under the
metal studs of the bodysuit and peeled away a strip of fabric that'd
covered her groin. She straddled my head and sat on the edge of

the mattress. I stared in shock between her legs. She'd shaved her
pussy sometime in the week or more since we'd last made love. Her
pinkish-brown labia shone with moisture.

"Kiss those lips, Sheila. French kiss that mouth, you little slut.
Tongue fuck it like you mean it and maybe I'll let you cum."

I was repelled by the thought, but knew it was my only way to get
gratification, and that resistance would mean real trouble. I made myself
lean forward and hesitantly lap at her.

"No!" she yelled, grabbing me by my wig and slamming my face into her,
humping my nose with her hips. "Do it, you fag slut, or we'll go out and
pick somebody up to fuck YOU!"

I did it with every bit of energy I could summon. Little by little, my
disgust faded. I was turning her on! Her thrusts and approving curses
were heartfelt. I'd never heard her even half so aroused when we made love
normally. My penis strained inside the tight panties as I eagerly

wallowed between her legs, licking and sucking wherever she told me to
and going fast or slow according to her commands.

When she orgasmed, I thought she was going to smother me. She screamed
and her legs clamped around me like steel bands, trapping both my mouth and
nose. Her pussy twitched around my tongue and my nose nuzzled her clit.
Just as I started seeing black dots dancing in front of my eyes, she spread
her legs and I came up gasping for air.

I felt right on the edge of cumming myself. I looked down and saw that
the hem of my hose clad legs were spread wide. My dress had slid up high
enough to show the garters and the panties beneath. My cock was still
almost invisible, pointing toward my butt. It looked like I had a girl's
middle, and I was so turned on I was about to die! I'd never wanted to cum
so bad in my whole life, and I couldn't reach out to jack off. I tried to
pull my legs together, hoping that maybe I could rub my thighs together and
get off that way. It didn't work.

I heard my wife laugh. "Would my horny baby like to cum in her panties
now? Would she like to rub her clit with those sexy hands for me?"

I saw that she was laying back on the bed, staring down at me from
between her legs. She was stroking her clit, just like her words were
describing.

"Would you like me to fix your nasty mouth so you can be pretty for me,
and jack off for me like a dirty little slut?"

"Yes! Oh, god, please!"

When she helped me up, she didn't have to tell me to lay down on the
bed. I did it on my own. She spread my legs and snapped handcuffs attached
to the bedframe around my ankles. Then she freed my hands from behind my
back, clicking the left wrist to the bed over my head. The right one she
set free.

"Now do it slow, Sheila. You can't cum until I tell you to."

I was almost oblivious by then. My hand felt clumsy after being
imprisoned for so long, but it flew straight to my middle. She slapped it
away and pinned my arm under her weight.

"Listen to me, cunt! Unless you do it MY way, you don't get to do it at
all! Now just lay there until I say so!"

I panted while she swayed to the vanity to bring what she needed to
repair my face again. I begged her to hurry. Her hand lightly tickled my
painful balls and I cooperated to the max, holding my mouth open like I was
hungry for the lipstick, turning my head this way and that

so she could powder my cheeks and chin to her satisfaction.

"God, you're a sexy whore, Sheila! Now do exactly as I say. First,
lift your skirt out of the way. Now scratch the length of your clit with
those nasty red fingernails!"

The sc**** of my long nails through the silk almost made me shoot off
right then. I dimly heard the click of the shutter as she took more
pictures, but there was nothing I could do about it. I knew I was angling
my hips up provocatively, but I had to in order to reach myself.

"Feel good, honey? I wish you could see how sexy you are," she cooed.
"Now stick your hand inside the panties and rub it, just a little."

The thrill was electrifying! It took every bit of willpower I owned not
to jerk it just the once it'd take to send me over. But my wife's ominous
warning rang in my ears. I may have whined, but I didn't cum.

"Perfect baby! Now push your panties down under your balls. I want to
see it. I want to watch that pretty hand make you shoot cum up in the air.
NO! NOT YET! I want you to just hold it for a second, just squeeze it.
Feel how good it feels."

I was dying. My ears were ringing and my whole body was stiff. I was
panting like a dog. "Please! Please," I howled.

"Tell me your name, slut! Tell me who you are and I'll let you cum!"

"Sheila," I shrieked. "I'm Sheila!"

"And you just love looking sexy, don't you!"

"Yes! Yes!"

"Beg me to take you dancing tomorrow night!"

"Please take me out! Anywhere you want!"

"Do you want to show off? Do you want to wear that nasty black
minidress and tall heels and bright make up? Show everybody what a hot
little slut you are?"

"Yes! I'll do it!"

"Do you WANT to do it?"

"Yes! Yes! I want to be a slut and let everybody see me!"

"Then cum for me, Sheila! Rub your fat clit and cum!"

The explosion ripped through me like lightning. My first blast of sperm
must have shot two feet in the air. There were many more spurts to follow,
and my flying hand was slick with it long before I was finished. I
collapsed onto the mattress, weak as a baby.

She touched my shrinking penis, and I gasped. It was so sensitive I
couldn't stand it. I heard her low chuckle, but she relented and lifted
her hand. She brushed my lips with her fingers, and I

automatically kissed them, tasting something salty and sticky.

My drowsy eyes sprang open. It was my cum! I jerked my head away.

Her voice was a frightening growl. "Do you really want to make me
angry, Sheila? Do you really want to resist me? Are you ready for a hot,
long dick to slide up your asshole?"

My eyes threatened to overflow. "No," I whispered.

"Then lick every drop of cum from my fingers like a good slut."

More humiliated than I'd been while giving the clerks my charge card, or
even having the man leer at me through the car windows, I did what she
demanded. She scooped every last bit of sperm off my dress and slack penis
and made me swallow it. Finally, after I'd licked my own

hand clean, she was satisfied.

After she'd made me change into a red teddy, she chained me to the foot
of the bed and made me sleep on a blanket on the floor. She'd loosened my
girdle a little, but made me sleep in make up and the wig. The butt plug
was still there, too. She fed me a can of diet milkshake and a

tiny salad.

"You need to get used to being this way, Sheila. And this IS the way
you're going to be for the next two weeks. Maybe longer, if you give me
any trouble. I can't wait to get our next photos back. They'll show
anybody who sees them just how much you love living this way."

The renewed threat to give them to my boss cowed me even further. I'd
never been so miserable in my life. She'd reminded me, as she handcuffed
me to the bedframe, of what she'd said earlier.

"I told you, Sheila. I knew you didn't believe me then, but now you
know. I made you beg me to go out and flaunt your slutty body, just like I
said I would."

I cried as quietly as I could in the darkness. Somehow, some way, I HAD
to get out of this!

4. Chapter - Adjustments

I woke up stiff and sore, with the thing in my ass hurting like hell.
That and being on the floor were instant reminders of everything that'd
happened. I tried a deep breath but was stopped by the corset. I had to
sweep the wig's hair out of my mouth. My fingernails startled me so

much that my handcuffs clinked on the bed.

The mattress moved and my wife's sleepy face peered down at me. "Good
morning, Sheila? Did you sleep okay?"

A bitter retort was on my lips when I saw her face turn hard. I
swallowed my protest. "Um, it was okay."

She looked pleased. "That's the spirit, darling! What a good girl
you're being! Just for that, I'll let you go to the bathroom alone."

I tried to hide the hope surging through me by looking down at the floor
and thanking her. My heart was pounding. She dashed it by holding up a
pair cuffs with a short length of chain between them. She clicked them
around my ankles before unlocking me from the bed, and

made me put on the five inch heels. I had to take short mincing steps.
Even if I could get away from her, where could I go in a corset and teddy
with shackles on my legs? Seeing my dismay, she laughed heartily as I
walked delicately from the room.

I hated seeing myself in the mirror. There was still sleep worn
lipstick on my mouth, eyeliner around my eyes, and flakes of mascara all
over my cheeks. The brown wig was a tangled mop. Under the teddy I was as
hairless as my wife, and the corset showing through the lacy lingerie
showed a shape as nice as hers, too. I could barely see a man beneath all
that. The haggard woman in the mirror looked familiar, like my twin sister
might have if I had one.

I felt foolish standing to pee, having to hold the red teddy out of the
way, but I was damned if I'd squat unless I had to. The long red
fingernails embarrassed me as they touched my heavy morning cock. I had to
look away as I did my business.

I tried to think. I could take a razor out with me to use as a weapon -
but they were all the disposable kind and wouldn't work. Not that I could
really hurt her, not even for this. But maybe I could convince her I meant
business. To my dismay, there were no scissors, no nothing. Every
conceivable weapon had been taken away. I almost cried in frustration, and
managed not to only by reminding myself how feminine a reaction that'd be.

I pulled myself together. There'd be another time, other chances, if I
played my cards right. Hating what I had to do, I tugged a brush through
the wig and rinsed my face and mouth. I tried a practice smile, but it was
too scary. I had to stay away from mirrors.

She arched an eyebrow when I traipsed back out with as much enthusiasm
as I could find. "Why you little darling! You cleaned up for me!"

"Would you like me to bring you coffee in bed?" I asked her remembering
to speak softly in as feminine a voice as I could muster.

"What? And leave you in the kitchen with all those sharp things?
Honey, you might hurt yourself."

Obviously, she knew I'd try something and wasn't going to give me the
opening I needed. I choked back a burst of rage. "I'd be very careful."

"I'm sure you would, darling. But not this time. Sit down there and
get started on your face, my little cum lover. I'll make the coffee."

She cuffed my legs to the back legs of the vanity's chair and roped my
chest tightly to the back. I might be able to reach the ****, I thought.

"Now do a good job, honey. I want you to look pretty. Remember, we've
got an appointment to get your hair done this afternoon."

"But I can't!" I protested. "I don't know how!"

"Come darling," she warned as she turned away. "You've watched me
hundreds of time, and Cindy and I showed you exactly how it needs to be
done. Do it and do it right, or else!"

The moment she was out of sight, I tried the ****. It was tight, and I
could get no leverage because of the angle of my wrists. I fumbled with it
anyway, desperately, but to no avail. Again tears threatened me. This
time I couldn't hold them off. Once I started, I couldn't stop.

I'd never felt anything like that in my life. I was terrified and
helpless. She was outsmarting me at every turn. I was horrified - she was
winning! She WAS going to be able to make me do whatever she demanded, no
matter how sick or twisted. I was never going to be able to resist her. I
was still crying when she came back fifteen minutes later. Her deep scowl
made me try harder to dam the flood.

"You haven't even started!" she accused angrily.

"I ... I ..." I stammered hopelessly.

"You worthless little bitch! That does it!" She stormed toward me.
There was no way to flee from her. I covered my face with my arms and
sobbed anew. But she didn't go for my face. Her slap landed squarely
between my legs. I doubled up with a sick groan. She wrenched one arm

behind my back and twisted. A cold cuff went around my wrist.

"Give me the other arm!"

I did.

"Why you thankless bitch! You broke a nail messing with that ****,
trying to get away! Oh, you'll pay for that, too!" She jerked me to my
feet by my arms, causing me to yell in pain. She dragged me into the
bathroom and pushed me into the tub, still wearing what I'd slept in. She
jerked off my high heels, then turned the water on, adjusting it until it
was almost scalding hot. I was too afraid to protest. At least I'd quit
crying. She quickly reattached the handcuffs around a

very solid towel rack. With a sinking heart, I remembered I'd installed
it for her three weeks ago. More evidence that she'd been planning this
for a very long time!

To the burning water, she added fragrant bath salts and oils. She
reached under me and with a cruel jerk, removed the plug that almost felt
like part of my ass.

"You've earned the next larger size, cunt. We've got to get you
loosened up and ready for a big fat real cock, don't we? After all, we
don't want it to hurt you so much you can't enjoy the way it's going slide
in and out of you."

That was more than enough to make me sob all over again. "Please," I
begged her softly, "Not that. Anything but that."

"Anything, Sheila? You mean that anything's better than having a man
lift your sexy legs over his shoulders and spread those cute buns under
your dress and hammer you with his cock?"

"Yes!" I wailed hysterically. "Anything!"

"Oh, baby," she laughed, "I'm going to make you remember what you just
said. When you're crying this hard, begging me to let you have a cock up
your ass, I'll remind you. And you will, you know. Just like you did last
night."

With the steaming tub filled to the rim, she left me to soak and think.
Horrible scenarios ran through my mind, but none were anywhere near as bad
as what she'd said. What could be worse than having another man do that to
me? The whole thing was a nightmare, but that ...

The water was almost cool by the time she returned, and I was having
trouble. It was like the butt plug had already loosened my asshole, and I
was sweating as I tried to keep my bowels from emptying in the bathwater.

"Toilet!" I begged the instant the door opened.

"Oh, my! Do we have a problem, darling?" I barely noticed that she was
in makeup as wild as the night before and wearing an ebony minidress that
looked as wet and skin tight as her bodysuit had.

"I need to shit! Please!"

She giggled merrily. "We can't have that, can we? You'd have to walk
around all day smelling of your own shit!" She put a theatrically
thoughtful red nail before her thick scarlet lips. "Now let me see. What
did I do with those keys?"

I realized as she turned away that she wasn't coming back. I knew the
keys were just outside the door on an end table. And she didn't return
until she heard the forlorn wail I made fifteen minutes later as my
stretched sphincter finally released. I was straining to keep as much

of my body out of the filth as I could and crying like a lost toddler.

She clucked her tongue at me and looked disgusted. "Well, Sheila.
That's your third fuck up already, and you've only been awake an hour.
What am I going to do with you? I'm only going to be able to have you
fucked by a few men before it's more reward than punishment."

"I'm sorry! I'll behave! I swear to God I will. Please, Ellen, give
me one more chance!" I knew she was maneuvering me, but it was all I could
do.

She walked up to the side of the tub, petted my damp wig with her hand.
I looked up, pleading with my eyes. I could see right up her skirt, see
that she wasn't wearing any panties, just garters to hold up her seamed
hose. Her naked pussy pouted down at me. I remembered how it tasted. Her
searing red mouth smiled. "Anything, darling. That's what you said.
Remember? Now take a deep breath and relax."

With that, she unlocked my hands. I knew what was coming. Nausea
welled up in me as she pushed my head under the water I'd soiled. At least
she let me shower and scrub myself clean, even though I didn't feel that
way. It didn't feel like I'd ever be able to get clean. I hated her for
what she'd done - all of it, not just in the bathtub. But it was a strange
hatred, more fear than anger, if that makes sense. It didn't to me. I was
more and more convinced that I wasn't going to be able to escape her - ever. My self-confidence had been eaten away
over the past day until I doubted everything except her cunning.

Somehow, being naked was even worse than wearing the corset and teddy
had been. My hairlessness seemed all the reminder I needed. I wrapped a
towel around me to hide as much of myself as I could while I shaved my
light beard as smooth as was humanly possible. I knew the towel was a
feminine gesture, but I couldn't stand seeing myself that way.

When I finally minced out of the bathroom in my shackles, holding my
shampooed wig in my hand, she acted like nothing had ever happened. She
was chatty, in a kind of girl to girl way. She'd loaded a tray with fresh
fruit and coffee. My mouth watered as I ate my share and tried to make
light conversation. She was critical of my voice, but not in a vicious
way. As she cleared the scant meal, she told me to do my makeup like a good
girl.

I promptly tried to imitate what had been done to me several times the
day before. I'd been paying no attention, and was finding the task
overwhelming. I swallowed my fear and meekly asked for her help. I
watched her expressionless face as she approached, fearful of her
wrath, but her smile made me try to, also.

"Of course, my love. I'm so happy you asked." She pressed her soft
breasts against the back of my head as she hugged me. "I'd love to help
make you beautiful. But," she warned tenderly, "you must learn to do it
for yourself, or I'll be upset."

"I will," I vowed, relishing the feel of her chest wrapping around me.
"Uh, by the way, I think you're beautiful today." It was the most truthful
thing I'd said all day.

"Um," she purred, sliding her hands down my smooth chest, playing with
my nipples, rubbing her breasts more firmly against me. "Thank you, lover.
I knew you'd like it as much as I do."

She let her hands slide lower still, grasped my growing member in a
gentle hand. "God, you make me so hot," she whispered, staring at me via
the mirror. "You've done your lips even better than I did. Such a sweet
red pout - but you should never start with lipstick, baby. Oohh.

My cunt's dripping, thinking about how good they'd feel kissing it like
you did last night. You gave me the best orgasm I've ever had, Sheila. I
want to sixty-nine with you, lick your clit until we both cum."

"I want that, too," I panted hotly, imagining my cock in that sweltering
red mouth. I spoke what I hoped she wanted to hear. "Let me lick you
again. Let me fuck you with my tongue."

She kept me stone hard and sweaty until she'd coached me through the
whole makeover. Then she forced me into a second corset, this one red, and
let me play with myself and her heavy breasts as she stretched the laces
tighter and tighter. She warned me over and over not to cum

until she gave me permission. I had to put the breast forms in myself.
Satisfied, she pushed me to the carpet and straddled my face.

"Eat me, whore," was her final command before lowering her head toward
my big, raging clit.

It didn't take either one of us long. I couldn't wait for her to tell
me to let go. She started writhing on my face as her orgasm hit her, and
mine erupted wildly moments later. She didn't seem to mind, as she moaned
loudly, despite her mouthful, and sucked mightily. I was still lazily
licking her when she lifted herself off me and turned around. She brought
her smeared red lips down to mine and kissed me hungrily. She forced her
tongue into my mouth, then pushed

the glob of cum she'd saved into the back of my mouth. I tried to pull
away, but there was nowhere to go. She clamped one hand over my lips and
massaged my throat until I swallowed repeatedly, my eyes filled with tears
of humiliation.

"There. Was that so bad, Sheila? Because you're being so cooperative,
I'll overlook the fact that I didn't give you permission to cum. See? I'm
not unreasonable. If you continue to behave, we can both enjoy ourselves.
But the moment you rebel, I'm the only one who'll enjoy myself. Now be a
doll and take your vitamin before you fix your face."

The way she said it made me suspicious. I looked at the big pill when I
rolled it into my palm.

Her laughter made me turn my head after I'd swallowed it. "You're
right, dear. That's a very special vitamin. You've been taking a huge
dose of female hormones for over a month now. Haven't you noticed how
smooth your skin is getting? Soon, you'll be growing your very own

breasts!"

I stared at her in utter horror, more sick to my stomach than bathing in
my shit had made me.

"Why are you doing this to me?" I cried.

She encircled my waist from behind, trapping my arms within hers.
"Because it's what we both want, darling. Don't you see? You need this as
much as I do." Her voice turned stern and cold. "If you ruin your makeup
by crying, I'll make you regret it."

It took superhuman effort to stifle the tears. I wondered, in my panic,
if the daily overdose of hormones was what was making me so emotional. I
tried to pay attention to the cosmetics as I prepared my face to go back to
the mall. I didn't care how I looked - but Ellen did, and pleasing her was
something I HAD to do.

Dressed in a skimpy gold dress and strapped into yet another pair of
five inch heels, with the promised larger butt plug trapped between my ass
cheeks and my wig pinned to my scalp, she led me back to the garage. I was
somewhat shocked that she didn't use the handcuffs. I guess she figured
the leather collar and leg irons and my full blown feminine look was enough
incentive to behave. She was right, too.

5. Chapter- Defining Sheila

It was ten times worse than the day before. Ellen's almost obscene
black dress and lewd makeup attracted the attention of everyone we
encountered as we traipsed through the mall. While all their eyes locked
on her first, they took me in also. She warned me, after we'd gone a
little way, to stand tall and act proud of my beauty, or else. The shop
windows showed me how I looked, with my big breast forms and tiny waist and
full hips revealed by the clinging gold dress. I couldn't ignore how
enticing my widely swaying ass looked. I felt like a beacon, like people
could see me from miles away. She'd deliberately parked as far from the
beauty salon as possible, exposing us to the blatant stares of hundreds of
people as we traversed the full length of the shopping center. I felt
every lusty look like it was actually touching me.

By the time we finally got to the salon, I was horribly confused. While
I was ashamed to death of being publicly exposed like that, I was also a
little breathless with excitement. It wasn't really sexual. My cock
wasn't rock hard, for which I was immensely thankful. It was more like I
was doing something dangerous, something illicit, that charged me with
adrenaline. I was fooling everyone! They were staring at me as hard as
they could, and had no idea!

The way Ellen looked at me when we turned into the beauty shop told me
she knew what I was feeling. Her smile mocked my pleasure, said, "I told
you so," without her having to say a word.

Cindy and my wife again led me to the back room. I was grateful to be
out of sight and tried to relax. After my period of freedom, I was
dismayed when Ellen again used the velcro straps on my wrists.

"You know what to do," she told Cindy. "And while you're at it, she
broke a fingernail this morning that needs to be fixed."

"No problem," the stylist smirked. "I've been thinking. If you'd like,
I could wax her legs and chest and I think I can do better with her face,
too."

"Great idea! Do whatever you think the little bitch needs. I'll be
back in an hour or so." She turned her wet red lips up and smiled at me.
"Be a good girl, Sheila. I think Cindy likes you, so be very nice and
don't give her any trouble."

I nodded meekly, tried to smile back, and used the tips she'd given me
on speaking right. "Have fun shopping."

As soon as she was out of sight, Cindy started acting different. "Okay,
Sheila, we're going to have a lot of fun today. You're not going to
believe how hot you're going to look before I'm through with you."

She removed my wig, which was embarrassing. Anybody who walked in would
recognize me for what I was. I was expecting her to style it or something.
Instead, she threw it carelessly on the counter and picked up a pair of
shears. When she started cutting away all my hair, I froze. She didn't
stop until my hair was an eighth of an inch long all over! Then, to my
horror, she picked up a straight razor and ran it ominously over a strop,
smiling wickedly at me all the while.

I sat rigidly, gripping the armrest as tightly as I could, while she
applied shaving cream to my scalp and shaved me completely bald! I was
whimpering, doing everything possible not to cry at my humiliation.

"Now look in the mirror, Sheila!" It was a command at least as intense
as any Ellen gave me. I obeyed, fearing the consequences, and was
astonished by what I saw.

It wasn't a bald man sitting there, but a lovely, delicately featured
young woman with a scalp as slick as a cue ball! I tried as hard as I
could to see myself under the clothes and cosmetics, and couldn't! The
dangling earrings, arched eyebrows and bowed, trembling red lips weren't
mine! The heaving double swell of my chest looked like it belonged there!
The shapely hose covered legs and towering high heels were someone else's!
I had vanished as thoroughly as if I'd never

existed!

"Now for the good part," Cindy said. She lifted another wig, long,
platinum blonde and obviously very, very expensive, from a box. She showed
me a peculiar smooth liner on the underside instead of the weave like on
the other one. "What happens is that I apply a nice smooth

coat of a special epoxy to your scalp and the wig, then ..."

She let her words trail off. I completed the sentence for her in my
mind. It'd become permanent. Maybe, in a month or so, as my hair grew
out, it'd loosen. Until it did, the silver blonde hair would cascade over
my shoulders and reach part way down my back. It finally

penetrated that my two week vacation "cruise" wasn't going to end that
soon, no matter how well I behaved.

I gave in to my tears while Cindy smeared the smelly paste all over my
scalp and I openly sobbed when she carefully fitted the wig to my head,
jerking it firmly into place. She wore an expression of triumph.

"Jesus," she sneered, "what a pussy you are! It's no wonder your wife
treats you this way. It's exactly what a wimpy little fag like you
deserves! Now I'm going to take these straps off and get you out of that
corset long enough to make sure there's not a single bit of stubble
anywhere on you. Give me any shit, and I'll invite every woman in the shop
to come back and laugh at your naked body!"

Taking all my clothes off was even worse than wearing them. I felt like
I wasn't a man anymore, and she destroyed the illusion that I was a woman,
too. She laughed at the plug closing my ass as she smeared a burning,
stinking chemical all over me, even on my face, cock and

balls, and made me endure the torture of the depilatory far longer than
was necessary. I was afraid it was going to burn my penis and balls right
off. She pushed me into a shower and made me rinse it all off and use a
heavily perfumed soap and then fragrant body powder. I noticed how smooth
and soft I was all over. I guessed the hormones were working, like Ellen
had said.

She laced me back into the red corset even tighter than my wife had, but
had added some padding to the hip area while I showered. When she stepped
back to admire her work, I had even more of an hourglass figure than
before. She made me sit in the chair, with nothing to cover my

dangling, shriveled genitals, while the other girl, Debbie, redid all my
nails, not just the one I'd cracked, and made them even longer and redder.
The way she smirked from time to time at my groin made me wish my sex
organs would crawl up inside me.

Cindy, meanwhile, was styling my new hair and redoing my face, using a
different colored foundation, lots of bright blush, and making my eyes and
lips look as slutty as Ellen's did. I really and truly looked like a cheap
whore with useless male organs where a wet pussy should have been.

That's the way my wife found me on her return. Her eyes widened with
surprise, then her lush lips smiled. "Good lord, Cindy! You're a genius!"

"You've got one hot little slut here!" the stylist laughed.
"Thirty-seven, twenty-two, thirty-five unless I'm blind. That gold dress
is going to be stretched even tighter over her mean little ass. Too bad
she's got such a pot belly under that corset. Get her to lose fifteen
pounds and she'd be a real knockout - if she didn't have that ugly thing
between her legs."

"Twenty pounds is more like it," my wife said. She patted my wrist. "I
know she can do it. She may not show it, but she loves what you've done
for her, don't you darling?"

When I meekly nodded, her hand tightened on my arm. Before she could
reprimand me for not answering aloud, I did. "Yes. It's lovely. Thank
you, Cindy."

They both laughed at my spinelessness. Cindy added, a little
hesitantly, "I, uh, came across something else I think she might like. If
you don't mind, Ellen, I'd like to give her a present."

Ellen looked touched. "Cindy! That's so sweet! Of course you may!" I
was instantly filled with fear.

The stylist opened a drawer in her cabinet and brought out a gaily
wrapped package with "To Sheila," written on the tag and handed it to me.
The paper read "Happy Birthday," all over. I blushed furiously.

"Well open it, silly girl!" my wife urged.

I did, fumbling, unable to use my hands as I always had due to the
absurd length of my hooked nails. I discovered I could use them as tools,
sliding them along, slitting the paper like a letter opener. Inside the
box was a bizarre flesh toned elastic device something like both a g-string
and a pouchless jock strap. When I figured out its function, my blush went
even deeper.

"A retainer!" Ellen said appeciatively. "Oh, Sheila, put it on for us!"
She ripped off the velcro bands, freeing my arms.

I bent forward as far as I could, exhaled every bit of air in my lungs,
but the corset wouldn't let me come close to reaching my ankles, even when
I lifted one foot. "Will you help me?"

"Of course, darling! Here!" I delicately lifted each foot as she
slipped it over my ankles, but she stopped when she'd lifted it to a height
I'd shown I could reach. I had to do the rest.

It was humiliating to have to detach my hose from the garters, elevate
my hips, and work the thing into place. Worst of all was reaching inside
it and arranging my penis and balls so that they flattened into absolute
invisibility. Ellen again helped me with my tiny bikini panties. When all
was done, I had a perfectly smooth middle. Even the retainer's tough
elastic string dug so deeply into my flesh that it left no line.

For all visible purposes, I had been turned into a complete woman, even
if they peeked up my dress. No one who saw me would ever doubt my
femininity now. The leather collar covered the lump of my larynx. My
knees weren't even knobby. I felt positive that I would "pass" wherever I
went. But that was only part of it.

My own senses reported no masculinity left in me. My shimmering hair -
the only hair I had other than my carefully shaped eyebrows - had tickled
my cleavage as I bent forward, swung with my every move. Dangling from my
ears were long gold earrings that chimed softly when I moved my head. I
had learned to look out at the world through long black lashes thick with
mascara, day and night. When I looked at my chest, even without breast
forms, I saw how much the corset lifted and shaped my very own flesh into
small pink bosoms - and Ellen assured me that, due to the hormones, they
were growing. Now even my panties were flat and smooth. My every word was
shaped by lips that dripped with deep red color. My fluttering hands were
branded, changed by long scarlet commas. My ass was perpetually violated
by a fake penis I'd gotten used to feeling rub my insides as I walked.
Even without high heels, my hips rolled and swayed.

My emotions weren't even my own. Maybe it was the hormones, maybe it
was something else, but the bottom line was that I cried every time I
became afraid. I felt that EVERY emotion I felt was visible. Ellen had
easily seen through my sly efforts to try to escape from her control. And,
while I hate admitting it, she'd also read, without even trying, how
pleased I was by what Cindy had done to me. I DID like it. I WAS
grateful. And the clearly visible rush of joy that made them

laugh was making me sick.

While they chatted about this and that, I paid no attention. I was
trying to name a new emotion growing in me. I hated myself for what I was
feeling. It made me feel like maybe I was exactly what Cindy had called me
- a pussy, a wimpy little fag. That was the only kind of man

I could think of who'd be so proud of his completely feminized
appearance as I was.

As Ellen turned to me and asked me a question, I was jerked back from my
sad musing. "I'm sorry," I had to confess, despite the danger, "I didn't
hear ..."

Cindy laughed throatily. "Little cunt was so busy admiring herself she
wasn't listening."

My wife's look was stern, and her eyes shone maliciously. "I asked you
if you'd like to thank Cindy for her birthday gift."

"Yes. Of course. Thank you, Cindy. It's -"

"Not that way," Ellen interrupted harshly.

I was befuddled. Cindy took my hand, helped me stand, led me back to
the bathroom. I had no idea what was happening, but I was sure I wasn't
going to like it. She locked the door and leaned against the lavatory.
"You really didn't hear, did you?"

"Uh, no. I'm sorry. I -"

"Ellen was telling me what a great pussy eater you are, how you make her
cum like she's never cum before."

I paled, felt dizzy, sick. Unable to speak, I watched her hands slowly
lift her skirt, inch at a time.

"You know what to do, Sheila. Don't make me use force."

I stared at her exposed panties. They were a pale blue. Their crotch
was moist, dark. One hand released her hem. I felt the weight of it
transerred to my shoulder. I sank to my knees. What else could I do?

She made me do it all. I watched my woman's hands tenderly lower her
panties, revealing her moist cunt, its lips shaven, but with a cloud of
brown curls left above the hooded clitoris. I touched, stroked it, finger
fucked it, careful of my nails, exactly as she told me to. I kissed it and
licked it and inserted my tongue in her cavity to her gasped
specifications. She didn't taste quite like Ellen did. Less fishy, more
fragrant. Better, really. Her hands were rough in my hair though. The
sharp pain in my scalp was almost exactly as if my hair was real, not like
the wig had been.

When she came with a muffled shriek, I hungrily licked her clean. My
penis throbbed in my new restraint, filling it with cum. I hadn't even
touched it. My lust had betrayed me. Even after her hands left my hair, I
stayed there, kissing away the dregs of her passion, increasingly aware of
how I'd left my lipstick all over her, how proud of myself I was for
returning her gift in the only way I could.

"You ARE good, Sheila," she purred, no laughter left in her tone.

"Thank you. You taste so good, Cindy." I kissed her reddened clitoris
one last time. Was it really me admitting that, meaning that? It must be.

She helped me to my feet, more tender than she'd ever been. She
gathered me in for a soft kiss, and I offered no resistance, automatically
parted my lips for her tongue. "Next time, I'll give you another present
and maybe I'll taste you. Would you like that?"

"If you want to. If it's okay with Ellen," I stammered. My eyes were
on my face in the mirror as she hugged me. My cheeks were wet with her
fluids. My lips were smeared. When I licked them, I tasted the candy of
my lipstick and the richness of her cum. I'd made her do that, given her
so much pleasure that she'd shouted it aloud.

"You didn't answer me, slut. Would you LIKE that?"

"Yes, Cindy. Very much. I ... I came, too." I watched the honesty
made my face red.

She pushed me to arms length, her eyes twinkling merrily. "You did?
Show me!"

My regret was instantaneous. I stuttered, looking for a way out. Her
expression turned stony. "Show me, whore! Show me the mess you made in
the present I gave you!"

Batting back tears of shame, I wiggled my panties down, then the heavy
elastic, sticky with spewed sperm. My cock hung, tiny and wrinkled and
ugly, shiny with thick spunk.

Cindy's laughter was like tinking bells. "What does Ellen make you do
when you cum? Does she punish you?"

I could lie, I thought. Maybe she wouldn't tell my wife. But if she
did? And, did I really WANT to lie? "She ... she makes me eat it."

"Well? What are you waiting for?"

I was ready for it that time. I knew the taste and texture. I sc****d
up what I could. She made me unhook my hose and remove the device and lick
it clean. Her eyes glittered the whole time. Her breath was quick again.
I could see her nipples through her dress. This was giving her pleasure,
too. I made a small, shy show of the process, trying to look like I
enjoyed what I was doing. Didn't I, at least a little? Wasn't this a
vital part of what'd been done to me? Didn't it

earn me favor, freedom? Such a small price to pay.

"May I put it back on now, Cindy?" I'd seen how my penis was growing. I
wanted to hide it.

"No. Let's show Ellen what a good bitch you've been."

I hung my head and she led me out, panties dangling from one hand,
retainer from the other. Her voice was thick while she related every
detail to my wife. I hazarded a glance at Ellen from beneath the shield
locks of my tangled hair, and quailed inside.

She wasn't pleased by my actions. She was shocked, maybe even dismayed,
and trying not to show it. I felt my lower lip begin to tremble as my eyes
filled with fearful tears. I'd been so sure I was doing the right thing!

The next time I glanced up, her face was a blank mask, and her eyes were
on me, not Cindy, whose voice was but a dim echo. She read my confusion
like I was an open book. I guess I was. I couldn't look away. She
deliberately reached into her purse and came up with a package of
cigarettes and a lighter. My shock deepened. She abhorred everything
about tobacco, yet she tapped out a cigarette and lit it and inhaled as if
she'd been doing it for years. I was like a rodent

hypnotized by a snake, staring vacantly at how her bright lips stained
the white filter, then pursed as if she was kissing the grey plume she
exhaled.

Cindy's tale ended and my wife's eyes dismissed me. She smiled tightly,
but Cindy missed the tension in it. "Very good, Sheila. You're turning
into the perfect little slut, aren't you?"

She was waiting. I didn't know what to say. "I ... I guess so. I'm
sorry if -"

"There's nothing to be sorry about, darling. Nothing at all. But we
have to hurry. There's so much to do before we go out tonight. Go back in
there and get dressed. Fix your makeup."

Ellen paid Cindy while I quickly wiggled into my undergarments, repaired
my lipstick and powdered my face. The stylist refused a tip. "Sheila's
already given me one," she laughed. "Bring her back next week if you'd
like to begin electrolysis on her face."

I followed numbly. Electrolysis to remove my thin facial hair? I
didn't even worry about it. All my worries were focused on my wife. She
marched quickly along, forcing me to have to hurry to keep up. I felt
awkward, stumbling along as best I could in the five inch heels, and knew I
was making a fool of myself. She was angry what I'd done. Very angry.
I'd be punished horribly for some transgression, and I wasn't even sure
what it was. Because I'd had an orgasm as I ate

Cindy? That must be it.

She didn't slow her pace, and I fell farther and farther behind.
Everyone was looking at us - the striking brunette in the clinging black
lycra dress, and the slutty, clumsy platinum blonde. After a

while, I realized no one could tell I was following her. We didn't look
like we were together.

A surge of panic made me bite my lower lip to stifle a shout. Was she
going to abandon me here? Was she deliberately going to force me to get
home however I could? My pace faltered, throwing me even further behind.
What was I going to do? I had no money, no identification nothing! My
legs refused to carry me another step. I was frozen, in the middle of a
throng of shoppers. A man bumped into me and I nearly leapt out of my
skin.

He stopped. "You okay lady?" His eyes touched me, raked me.

I bolted. I couldn't stand how close he was, what his eyes were doing.
I pursued my wife, not caring how it looked. I felt like my very life
depended on catching her before she reached the car. To my utter horror, I
couldn't see her. Even in five inch heels, everyone was taller than I was.
The crowd had closed around her, as if it was trying to hide her. I
hesitated, turning hopelessly this way and that, at the juncture of two
wings of the mall, having no idea which direction she'd gone. I was too
scared to even remember where the car was. I'd never felt so utterly lost
and alone, even as a c***d. How could she hate me so much that she'd do
this to me?

I was positive my immobility was again drawing more attention to my face
and body. I knew I looked like I was advertising, asking for exactly the
kind of looks I was being given. There was nothing exciting about it now.
My wife had buffered me from it, made me safe. Now, I was totally
vulnerable, exposed even more than I had been when Cindy stripped me nude
in the salon.

Terror became dread certainty. Something horrible was going to happen.

"Scared, cunt?" came a sibilant whisper in my ear.

I whirled to her, my nightmare ended. "Oh, Ellen! Where were you?"

"You're crying. Stop it this instant." She handed me a tissue. She was
still angry, but there was compassion, too.

I hadn't even been aware of my tears, and was ashamed. "I'm sorry." I
blotted my eyes like she'd taught me. "I guess I was making a fool of
myself again. Did I mess up my eyes?"

"Not too badly. Come on. I need a drink."

This time, her pace was moderate, but her low grade anger made me hold
back a step. I was desperate to please her, to make amends for whatever
I'd done wrong. I reminded myself to stand tall, act proud, do everything
she'd told me to do. It didn't fully register that we were going to a bar
until she crossed the flow of traffic and led me into a dim, hushed space
that smelled of smoke and liquor. It was barely three in the afternoon,
and the place was anything but crowded.

My wife occupied one half of an isolated booth. I took the other side.

She silently stared at me until I dropped my eyes. The tension was so
thick I could taste its bitterness on my tongue. Urgency built within me
to end it, but my jaw seemed locked closed. My mind spun madly, looking
for the right thing to do, to say. A waitress appeared. Ellen

ordered a pair of stingers in somber tones. I thought she was digging
through her handbag for makeup so I could make repairs, but she extracted
another cigarette instead. The lighter added light to her face for a
moment.

"What? You disapprove of me smoking?"

"It's just a shock is all. It looks so ... like you've been doing it
for a long time."

She exhaled with what seemed relief. "What if I told you I started oh,
say, six months ago? What if I said that, since you weren't paying any
attention to me, I bought this dress and started going out?"

My mouth hung open foolishly. "You did? Oh, God, Ellen!" Pictures
flickered through my mind. Ellen, painted and needy, sitting in places
like this looking for men.

"I didn't say that's what happened. I said 'what if.' How would that
make you feel?"

"Sick, I guess. And sorry I was so blind. Is there anything I can do
-"

Her laugh was harsh. "You keep assuming that's what happened, you
stupid bitch. If you knew I'd been fucking other men - excuse me, men
period - would you feel betrayed? Jealous?"

"Of course! I love you, Ellen. I'd do anything to -"

The waitress delivered the drinks, reducing us to silence again. It was
even worse than before. It was like she'd fed me a slow poison. I felt it
eating at my guts. Doubt assailed me. Surely I'd have known. I'd have
smelled the smoke clinging to her flesh and clothes. I'd have been able to
tell if another cock had been inside her, if her lips had been passionately
locked to another mouth.

"'Anything,'" she mocked me, easily taking more smoke. "There's that
word again, Sheila. Every time you use it, you make me want to test you,
to push you, to see if you really mean it."

I squirmed.

"Drink up," she ordered, not touching hers, but waiting for me to sip
from my glass. Neither of us were big fans of hard liquor. Instantly, I
felt the small taste. Its warmth expanding outward from my empty stomach.
It'd been two days since I'd had a decent meal, and I knew the drink was
going to hit me like an avalanche. I wanted to ask her for a sandwich of
something. I held my tongue.

"You still don't get it, do you?"

"I ... I think so. You're saying that what I ... what happened with
Cindy made you feel ... uh, betrayed."

She leaned back. Her blood red smile was sharp as a knife. "I warned
you. Remember? 'If you act like a slut, I'll have to treat you like one.'
I think those were my exact words."

"But I was just doing what you ordered me to do!"

"Did I tell you to cum? Did I tell you to like it? Did I tell you to
lick up your cum, or kiss her, or promise to let her suck you off the next
time she gives you a present?"

"No." I stared at my woman's hands wrapped around the drink, the rim
marked by my woman's lips.

She leaned forward. Her breasts touched the table. I could see down
almost to her nipples. "What do you call someone who gives sex in return
for gifts?"

My heart shriveled. "But you told me to thank her that way! I -"

"I didn't say a fucking thing about 'next time,' did I? Answer me!
What kind of woman does what you did?"

She was right. What'd I'd done - almost all of it - wasn't really
because she made me do it. I'd WANTED to. I felt the weight of the words
fill my mouth, overflow my lips. "A whore," I barely whispered.

"I didn't hear you."

I repeated it for her. "A whore. I acted like a whore."

"Is that what you are, Sheila?"

"No! I'm sorry, Ellen. I was wrong. I did a terrible thing. It'll
never happen again. I promise."

"Un huh. And I'm supposed to forgive you. Just like that?"

I swallowed. "I, uh ... I guess I should be punished."

"Are you asking me to punish you?"

I finally managed to meet her steely gaze. "I want you to do whatever
you need to do. I need you, Ellen. I love you more than anything. If you
have to hurt me to forgive me, I'll take it." I was whining, begging. I
meant it with my entire being. "When I thought you'd abandoned me here, I
saw how much I need you. I can't stand the thought of ever being without
you. I think I'd die without you. You've ... I'm different now. I'm
scared all the time. The only time I feel good is when I'm doing what you
want."

I watched her anger evaporate, saw the real love in her eyes. "Do you
really mean that, honey?"

I was thrilled! "Oh, god, yes!"

"And you'll willingly prove it to me?"

I hesitated before I said the next word. I needed to be sure I meant
it, she said. "Anything."

Her smile was a ray of brilliance. Her hand covered mine, squeezed.
"You are a treasure, my love. I adore you. I realized something myself.
What you did with Cindy made me admit to myself how much I need you, too.
Now finish your drink."

I swallowed it with unladylike gulps, then gasped for breath. We both
laughed.

I shook my head at the instantaneous blast of dizziness, felt my hair
tickle my shoulders. "Whoo! That's more than I've had to drink in years."

"Since our wedding," she grinned, then pushed the second glass toward
me.

"You want me to drink this one, too?"

"Un huh. In time. But first let's go freshen up. I love what Cindy's
done to your face, don't you?"

I babbled affirmatives to her questions as we wound our way to the
ladies' room. It was weird going in there, but the thrill of illicitness
was back. I'd always wondered what those forbidden doors hid. I whispered
how much fun it was to fool everyone, to take little risks like this and
almost dare people to challenge me.

"I know exactly what you mean," she laughed gaily, but softly. "I feel
the same way wearing these clothes and using so much makeup. That's why I
smoke, too. It's part of the disguise. Want to try it?"

"I'd choke. That wouldn't be very sexy, would it?"

We kept up our quiet chatter while we touched up our faces, trading
cosmetics, giving one another giggled advice. We were mirror images, I
thought. She dark, me light; she real, me false. For the first time,
being wrapped in feminine clothes, my face coated with color, my body

changed - all of it felt utterly right. Maybe it was the hammer-like
impact of the alcohol, but I wouldn't have changed a thing, and told her
so.

Her eyes filled with tears. "I never expected to hear you say that,
love."

My smile in the mirror was bright. My lips were perfect. "I don't know
- or even care - why you wanted to do this to me. Thank you, Ellen."

6. Chapter - Stepping Out

"You're making me hot again," Ellen told me. She deliberately weighed
her heavy breasts. "See?"

Her nipples were indeed denting the shimmering black lycra dress. "I
noticed," I giggled, the alcohol making me reckless. "Would you like me to
do something about it?"

"You'd do me right here in the bathroom?" she purred.

"I'd do you anywhere you want. You make me hot, too, you know." My lips
were suddenly hungry. I wanted to replace Cindy's aftertaste with Ellen's
more pungent flavor.

"Not yet. Let's get out of here before it gets any worse."

"Worse?" I simpered teasingly, bending over to straighten my hose,
placing my face near her middle. The cascading silvery mane felt
wonderful. I could almost taste the dew certain to be collecting on the
inner surfaces of her labia. With a sudden rush, I remembered that my wife
was wearing no panties beneath that tiny dress, that her sleek, shaved
pussy was naked, mere inches from my saliva filling mouth. I felt my face
flush.

"I want to lick you, Ellen."

"You're drunk, you shameless hussy. I'd better get some food in you.
Come on."

Arm in arm, we re-entered the bar. My pulse was still hammering. I'd
eaten two pussies that day, had two marvelous orgasms, and was feeling
horny all over again. And rash.

The bar was filling. Our return drew eyes. I was already aware of how
beautiful I looked, how sexy in the shape-fitting gold minidress.
Thirty-seven, twenty-two, thirty-five, Cindy had declared with confidence
born of expertise. At five feet two inches, sans the heels, that made me a
knockout. The male eyes touching me didn't feel quite so invasive. The
potent drink had numbed my fear, warmed my libido. It was almost a
disappointment to reach our booth and hide ourselves behind a table.

Ellen leaned forward over it. The underhalf of her fine breasts again
pressed the smooth surface, and her deep cleavage opened to me. Her eyes
were hooded, the way they got when she was aroused. Her nipples were still
erect, must be visible to all our admirers. A stab of envy

pierced me. My latex breast forms, full as they were, felt inadequate.

"Would you like me to order you a snack, darling? Would you like to
stay for a while longer?"

I mechanically sipped the drink she'd pushed to my side of the table. I
was ashamed of my budding, twisted desire. "If you want to." Her face
changed to the look that demanded a real answer. "Yes. I'd like that."

She leaned back, dug for the cigarettes. "Now was that so hard?"

"I guess not." I watched her chest swell as she filled her lungs with
smoke. "Can I, uh, would you mind if I changed my mind about, uh ..."

"Smoking? Of course."

As Ellen's lighter flared in my hand and I hesitantly hollowed my cheeks
around the tobacco, the waitress arrived with another pair of unordered
stingers. "From the gentlemen," she informed us, nodding toward a table of
five businessmen across the room. I didn't like the taste of smoke at all.

My wife turned to smile at the table. "Thank them, Sheila. Give them
your prettiest smile."

My face tightened, my flush deepened. Deliberately smile at five men?
Men, just like me? Well, not quite like me, I admitted. But, wouldn't it
be rude not to - as well as annoying to Ellen? I'd already hurt her,
angered her deeply, and didn't want to risk that again. I knew how
enticing my lush red lips were as I turned up their corners and aimed them
toward the businessmen. As I did, Ellen shocked me. Beneath the table the
toe of one of her towering heels pressed against

my thighs, rubbed slickly over my hose.

My eyes jerked back to her. Her lips were slack. Her breathing was
quick. She'd slid down in her seat. "You're so beautiful," she muttered.
"Spread your legs, baby. Let me in."

My knees were knocking. I tried another puff of smoke. No one could
see, I reasoned. I obeyed her and swallowed a gulp of my drink. Dizzily,
I saw the lipstick coating its rim, marring the white filter of the
cigarette trembling in my hand. My bent-under prick was hard, hurtful,
invisible within the heavy elastic retainer. Her shoe slid smoothly
between my knees, rubbed up and down my inner thigh. With each stroke, it
went higher, its tip dipping under my high hem, nearing the tops of my
hose.

"Stop. Please," I whimpered.

"Am I embarrassing you?"

"Yes."

"Am I exciting you?"

I wet my lips. "Yes."

"Is your little clittie hard? Does it ache?"

My hips wanted to rock. I wanted to slide down so she could reach
higher. "Yes."

She suddenly dropped her foot and sat up. Her succulent mouth shaped an
inviting smile, directed over my shoulder. A deep voice throbbed in my
ear.

"May we join you?"

My entire body tensed. My head jerked toward the sound. Two men from
the distant table, broadly smiling, stood expectantly over us. My ears
were filled with a ringing noise. I barely heard Ellen.

"Of course. Sheila honey, scoot over."

I reflexively did as she commanded, felt the bench seat sag under a
heavy weight, smelled the sharp sting of male cologne over the stench of my
cigarette. A muscular shoulder brushed me as the man arranged himself. I
dared a quick look at my wife. Her heavy-lidded eyes were on me, glittered
mischievously. She'd deliberately set me up. She'd seen this coming.
She'd toyed with me, knowing what was going to happen.

She introduced us. I imagine I smiled mechanically, politely, although
I'll never be positive. The next few minutes are an absolute blank, a deep
hole in my memory. All I recall is a dire sense of panic. I was trapped
in the booth. I couldn't escape. There was nowhere to go. My glass was
suddenly empty. There was what I guess was a fresh cigarette burning
between my curved fingernails. Ellen's tall heel was sensuously rubbing my
ankle. My eyes on the table, I still saw her lean toward her gentleman,
watched her pendulous breast flatten against his bicep for a moment.
Beside me was a man. I darted my eyes up at him and he caught them. His
gaze spoke silent volumes. How desirable I was. How much he wished he
could kiss me, touch me. Fuck me.

Another round of drinks arrived. There was no food. The unaccustomed
alcohol was bringing me out of my shock. Ellen was flirting with both men.
Not outrageously, but encouraging them nonetheless. She was gently teasing
me about being so shy - recently divorced, she explained, and way out of
practice. She'd had to drag me out, she laughed musically. I wondered if
her pun was intentional, decided it was. She'd proven her genius.
Everything she did was intentional. What did she intend to happen next?
Her hand dropped to the man's suit sleeve. Her eyes were locked with his.
My throat tightened. Would she fuck him? Would she make me ...

My voice was shrill. It seemed to explode into the natural flow of
conversation. "Excuse me. I have to use the rest room. Ellen?" It was a
raw, desperate plea.

"Already?" she drawled. Her companion slid out. Mine patted my thigh,
let his hand linger for an instant before he moved. "Hurry back." His
breath puffed against my overheated cheek.

The drinks hit me like a truck the second I stood. The man who'd freed
me from the prison of the booth - Larry, I think his name was - caught me,
or I might have toppled off my heels. It was how he performed the
chivalrous gesture that was notable. He gathered me into his strong arms
like a lover. He didn't hold me tightly or lewdly, but did press against
me from breast to thigh. My thoroughly warmed latex tits must have been
convincingly soft. Through my spinning dizziness, I felt his erection on
my hip.

I fumblingly pushed away from him, but he kept his hands on my
shoulders, steadying me. The earth slowed its nauseating spin. Ellen was
standing beside me, wearing a wry red grin. She took my elbow and guided
my wobble toward the rest room. Her grip on my arm was painfully tight.
The instant the door closed behind us, she pushed me against the wall
length vanity. Her voice was a raw hiss.

"What the fuck's going on, Sheila? First you pout and sulk like a
little k** because I invited two gentlemen to sit with us, then you leap
into the guy's arms like a horny teenager."

"I'm drunk," I slurred. "I fell."

"My ass! It was deliberate as hell!"

"No!" I wailed. "I hate this, Ellen! All I want to do is go home!"

She sucked smoke savagely, spat it back out. "Maybe you'd like it if we
took them with us? You'd like to fuck him, wouldn't you?"

I shook my head so wildly that I staggered. I felt the tears gathering
in my eyes. "Don't say that. You know it's not true. Please don't be mad
at me. You know I can't drink."

"No one's been forcing you, bitch."

"I'm scared. It ... I ..."

She suddenly relented, hugged me, petted my silvery mane. It felt good
to be comforted. I nestled into her arms, lowered my head to her shoulder.
Her voice was soothing. "This's happening too fast for you, isn't it? All
these new sensations, these new feelings. It must be

very confusing."

I nodded meekly, sighed from the pit of my soul. The smell of smoke
mingled with her perfume to form an earthy scent.

"And," she chuckled, "I guess I did forget to order you something to
eat. Tell you what. Let's go back out there and make excuses and get out
of here. Okay?"

"Thank you, Ellen!"

"But I want you to do something for me first."

"Of course!"

"I want you to kiss him goodbye. A nice long kiss, like you mean it."

I lifted my wobbly head. My eyes were big as saucers and I'm sure my
pouty mouth hung open in shock. I started to ask her if she was serious,
but there was ice gleaming in her eyes. I dropped my gaze. I'd screwed up
so many times today that I'd lost count. I owed her whatever repayment she
demanded. I'd promised.

I barely heard my own voice. "You really want me to?"

"I do. Open your mouth. Use your tongue. I'll kiss mine, too - but
I'll be watching you. It'll make my cunt gush down my legs. It'll be fun
to watch them fall all over themselves, honey. They'll beg us to go out
with them. We'll give them a fake phone number, then I'll get you home and
feed you and sober you up. Deal?"

"I guess."

"Look at me," she demanded throatily, wiggling her skirt up, baring her
garters, then her naked cunt. "Look how fucking wet you make me, baby.
You turn me on so much it's killing me. I'm not hot because of those good
looking men. I'm dripping because I love watching you, Sheila.

Feel it, baby. Feel how wet I am."

I numbly reached down and rubbed her labia with a slender finger. She
purred, rocked her hips and took it a little inside. She was so slick, so
ready.

"That's what I want to kiss," I heard myself say. "That's where I want
my tongue."

She took a step back, her eyes deep pools of desire. "Not now. In the
car. On the way home. Just pretend his mouth is my cunt." She stretched
the black dress down over her hips, hiding her beautiful pussy.

She made me look at myself in the mirror. A reality check, she called
it. My own passion was as visible as my wife's. My nipples couldn't get
hard like hers, but my face reflected it just as deeply. Guiltily, I
smelled the finger that had caressed her. Her chuckle at my gesture was
low.

"Let's go do it," she said, "and get out of here before I **** you on
the spot."

Her left tit rubbed my right arm on the voyage back. I watched the
table approach, saw both men stand politely. They really were good
looking guys. Their suits were expensive. They were polite to a flaw, and
just a little forward. But then we looked like the kind of women who were
asking for male advances, so that was to be expected.

Ellen paused as we approached. "Sheila's not feeling well," I heard her
drone. We had to go. Disappointed noises from both. Ellen took us a step
closer. My eyes were locked on the one who'd picked me. Well trimmed dark
hair. Gleaming white teeth. Much taller than I was, and

vastly more muscular.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Ellen respond to the other one's faint
invitation and lean toward him. I mimicked her, refusing to think.

He gathered me up like I was a precious treasure. He enfolded me in
arms far more powerful than any I'd been in. His head bent toward mine and
my lips parted, just as they would have for Ellen. My arms went around his
waist.

His mouth was hard. His face was slightly scratchy. His tongue was
quick, agile, demanding. He ground his face against mine and took my mouth
with his own. There was no way I could pretend it was my wife. His
swollen groin was tight against my belly. When I pulled away, he

relented, released me. My lipstick decorated him like an indelible
stain, yet it vanished completely as he transferred it to his white silk
handkerchief. Did he have a wife who'd notice it, I wondered

stupidly, then tore my eyes away.

Ellen was completing the lie. Her desire-bruised lips were slightly
blurred, just as mine must be. I could make no sense of her words, just
waited patiently for her to finish. My man was saying something. I smiled
mechanically, my thundering pulse drowning out all sound. When Ellen
turned, so did I. We made our escape.

All I remember about the long trip back to the car is the way my body
moved. The plug buried in my ass caressed me with every short stride. My
hips felt loose, and I knew they swayed sexily. I didn't care. I felt my
breast forms bounce every time my high heels jarred against the

terrazzo floor. I felt the breeze of my movement lick my sleek thighs,
my long hair tickle my shoulders, the faint weight of the heavy earrings.
The corset's tightness was reassuring. My stone hard little cock, aimed
toward my warm ass cheeks, rubbed slightly between my thighs. I was as
drunk on sensation as I was on liquor.

I remember more about the drive home. I vividly recall burying my face
between Ellen's wantonly spread thighs as she sat behind the wheel. I knew
the windows were tinted and that my act would be unseen, but I'd have done
it anyway. I sucked and nibbled her through two restrained orgasms and was
working toward a third by the time we achieved the garage. She d**g me
away from her gaping cunt long enough to slide the seat back, then fucked
my face with crazed abandon, beating my chin with her hips. I don't think
she was even aware she was speaking.

"Oh, fuck me with that slutty tongue, baby. Stick it deep in me, just
like you did Cindy's nasty little hole. I almost died when you came out
with your clit and balls dangling down and your cum still in your hot
little whore's mouth. I saw how you kissed that guy, cunt. You loved it.
You let him tongue fuck your mouth, didn't you, you nasty little slut? You
felt how hard you made his big cock, didn't you? Every time you smoked, it
was like you were sucking a dick. The way you strutted through the mall
turned you on, didn't it? It made you feel like a tramp, didn't it? You
loved every minute of the whole fucking day, didn't you, baby?"

There was more. It was like each accusation, each question drove me
deeper into her slick slit. It was all true, every word of it. And I
wasn't ashamed. I felt no guilt. She was proud of me. This was what she
wanted. Atop my lust was an overlay of gratitude. I trusted her. She
knew what I wanted, what I needed. When she finally exploded, she did so
with v******e. She twisted my head, crushed my skull, jerked madly on my
hair. I felt my own orgasm trying to fill my panties, and somehow managed
to deny it. She hadn't given me permission.

The instant she threw me away from her, I rawly begged her to let me
finish myself. I was writhing with need, had to made fists of my hands to
keep them from my silky center.

Ellen sprawled obscenely against the driver's door, her dress around her
waist, her heavy tits exposed. Her nipples were immense. Her cunt lips
still pulsed. Her makeup was intact, although she'd gotten lipstick on her
teeth from biting her lower lip. She stared at me, had trouble lighting a
cigarette.

"Put your feet on the dashboard," she growled. "Open your legs as far
as you can."

I scrambled to do what she wanted.

"Reach down and show me your clit."

I jerked the panties away, loosed my purpled member from the restrainer,
displayed it, gasping, trying not to blow at the wonderful thrills created
by my touches.

"Bend forward as far as you can, slut. Try to suck it. Jack yourself
off. Shoot straight into your mouth."

I couldn't force the corset to bend much more and I whined in
frustration. She helped me, grabbing my ankles, forcing my knees higher.
It felt like I was being cut in half.

"Open those slimy lips, whore, and do it."

Two seconds later, I erupted. A gout of sperm splatted against my
forehead. A second struck my lower lip. The third landed on my heaving
chest. The rest simply drooled over my pumping fist. The instant she
released me, I started scooping up the fragrant, warm cum, eating it like
it was my favorite candy, wishing there was more.

"Good, baby," she cooed, "but not good enough. Let's get you inside.
I've got something I need to show you."

7. Chapter - Home Sweet Home

Later - much later, emotionally, if not by the clock - Ellen helped me
to bed. I needed every bit of assistance I could get. I'd been tied in a
position similar to, though more relaxed than the torturous bent forward
stance she'd employed the night before, and she'd taught me two very
important lessons. I was more accustomed to the squeeze of the corset and
the angle of the high heels, so that part of it wasn't nearly as agonizing.
The rest of the punishment, though, was much

more vicious than merely being spanked.

Ellen's first exercise was designed to illustrate how to suck cock. She
employed a strap-on dildo, one end of which was buried in the denuded cunt
still bearing my lipstick, and demanded that I perform fellatio on her
until my jaws ached and the back of my mouth was raw.

Begging her not to abuse my throat had proven worse than useless. As
she tapped her false cock against my sealed red lips, she reminded me of my
vow to do anything to earn her forgiveness. Would I prefer it if she went
to some bar and picked up a stranger equipped with the real thing and
brought him home for me? She'd be happy to drop to her knees in front of
me and lick its length, kiss its swollen head, and demonstrate first hand
how it should be done, if I wanted that. My answer was to part my lips and
ask her to tell me what to do.

The second lesson was how to take the same device, thickly greased, up
my stretched asshole. Relax, she'd urged as she pushed into me, and enjoy
it. The physical pain was much less than I expected. The butt plug must
have opened me up quite well, and the alcohol had deadened me. The
emotional trauma was much more severe.

My wife fucked my virgin ass - my cunt, she called it, her throat
clogged with lust - until the pressure of the dildo against her clit made
her cum. By then I was so delirious that I could almost feel the rubber
dong pulse and ripple in my gut as if it was expelling a huge load of sperm
deep into me.

Both were punishment for my slutty behavior at the beauty salon,
fulfillment of her earlier vow to treat me like a whore if I acted like
one. After her orgasm had eased, she gently withdrew her cock from me and
wiped it clean. As she used the warm, damp cloth to remove the messy
lubricant from my fiery red lower cheeks, she reached beneath me and
fondled my engorged cock, murmuring that I'd earned a reward. My hips
resumed the thrust they'd learned while she'd fucked me, and I watched
enthralled from between my spread, chained, hose clad legs, as her hand
glided over my long flesh, massaging it against the latex prick, heated by
my bowels and still strapped to her. I shrieked as I came, shooting my
jism all over her hand and the dildo.

When she moved back to my head, she didn't need to order me to lick the
shaft and her hand clean. That I was hungrily licking real cum from a cock
shaped toy was an irony that wasn't wasted on me.

Again I slept on the floor, chained to the bed frame, dressed in the
loosened corset and a different teddy. Ellen had coaxed my stunned brain
through the laborious process of removing all my makeup, explaining that it
wasn't good for my complexion to sleep in it, and showing me exactly how I
needed to care for my skin. I voided my violated bowels and easily
returned the ass plug to its home. In my exhaustion, even my
color-stripped face looked wholly female. I still

felt drunk, or d**gged. I wondered why I hadn't seen how feminine my
were features before, how I had truly been a woman awaiting her rebirth all
my life.

I silently cried myself to sleep, not because I was pain wracked from
her violation of me, not due to the cruelty of having every possible trace
of my masculinity erased - but because I'd loved almost everything that'd
happened to me, the whole day long. My thoughts weren't about how I could
restore myself back into maleness after my two week surprise vacation
ended, but rather to pray that I could somehow extend it forever.

It'd taken Ellen just over thirty-six hours to reveal, to myself and the
world at large, a side of myself I'd barely dared to even fantasize about.
While I'd sneakily worn her panties and dresses, this was what I'd wanted.
It'd been too horrifying, too perverse to admit, even in the darkest
recesses of my mind.

Even as I was wracked by silent sobs, I was wondering what my wife had
in mind for the next day. I knew that, no matter what I said, no matter
how strenuously I objected, I'd welcome whatever she made me do, no matter
how degrading.

My eagerness had passed by morning. The pain that hadn't been there the
night before throbbed in my ass, burned in the back of my mouth. My
calves, feet, and the small of my back were incredibly sore from wearing
the tall heels all day. My scalp itched like mad under the

permanently affixed wig. I had a hangover that felt like some insane
blacksmith was at work at an anvil between my ears. My stomach growled
with both hunger and nausea.

When Ellen released me, she didn't bother with shackles. I staggered
into the bathroom barefoot to take care of essential business. Unlike the
morning before, I couldn't bring myself to stand to urinate. I told myself
that was because I was so sick, and knew it was a lie. I sat on the toilet
ring because it would've been too shameful to act like I was still a man.
My penis and testicles were the only part of me that looked male, and I
couldn't bear the thought of peeing the old way. It would've been
shamefully hypocritical, a senseless denial of what had already become my
reality.

A long hot soak in a fragrant tub eased my physical woes, and a real, if
low-fat, breakfast lessened my psychic ones. Ellen weighed me. I was
astonished to see that I'd already lost five pounds. Her warning that the
next fifteen would be harder wasn't lost on me. I swallowed

my big "vitamin" with mixed feelings. I'd become aware how the large
dose of hormones had already affected my body. Part of me wished I could
swallow the entire bottle and accelerate the changes taking place. The
other part was ashamed to tears of that perverse desire.

She had me dress in the black corset, but left it moderately loose, and
had me cover it with the first casual clothes I'd worn in what seemed
forever. The new designer jeans were satisfyingly tight, and the three
inch heels were as easy to move in as tennis shoes had been in my old life.
I thought the green cotton blouse was flattering with the gold choker in
place of the leather collar I'd been wearing for the last two days. The
only makeup she allowed me was lipstick and mascara, which I had to do
myself.

I was still a pretty young woman, but one more suited to keeping house
than teasing cock at the mall. With rubber gloves protecting my too-long
nails, I set about cleaning the house with more gusto than I'd ever felt
before.

It was a purely domestic day, as were most of the two which followed.
There were no outrageous outside adventures. No shopping. No drinks at
bars. No scenes with other women - or men.

Ellen developed a routine for me. There were exercises designed to
limber me as well as work off pounds, without building ugly muscles. There
were daily lessons in feminine behavior and voice sessions every afternoon.
I gave myself two enemas every day. While grocery shopping

- our only trip out of the house during those three quiet days - my wife
bought me a videotape on cosmetics and demanded I memorize it, as well as
read every magazine article I could find on the same topic.

My feminine lifestyle quickly became second nature. I got so used to my
long silvery hair that I couldn't imagine having ever been without it. I
found I could do everything with my long painted nails that I'd done
before. The aches in my leg and back muscles eased and being

without high heels didn't feel normal. During rare moments without
breast forms and a butt plug, I felt like I'd been stripped of vital parts
of myself.

That was one of the most effective ways Ellen punished me. After
breaking one of our wedding wine glasses while unloading the dishwasher,
she angrily took off all my clothes and made me continue my chores nude
except for five inch heels and heavy rubber gloves. I hated the way my
cock and balls dangled, slapped against my smooth, hairless thighs with
every step. I felt fat and ugly with no corset to give me the lovely shape
I identified with. After an hour, I was in

tears, begging her to let me stretch my retainer over my male organs and
lace me back into a corset.

She was lounging in a hot bath while I cleaned the toilet and tile
floor. "You've broken something irreplaceable, Sheila. We toasted one
another with that glass at our wedding reception. After having destroyed a
symbol of our marriage, you ask me to lighten your punishment?"

"Just change it," I said in my more refined female voice. "Please,
Ellen. This is too ... too -"

"Humiliating? Disgraceful?" she mocked.

I nodded, unable to meet her eyes.

"If I let you start making amends, will you do everything I say for the
rest of the day without hesitation? No matter what it is?"

"Yes! I promise!"

She lay in the steaming water with her eyes closed for a moment. A
smile grew on her face. "Run to the vanity and bring back your favorite
lipstick, doll."

I took her order literally. Running in the tall heels was more scamper
than trot, but I'd become used to their limitations.

"Lay on your back on the floor."

The tile was cold.

"Raise your knees and spread your legs so you can see your clit. Good
girl. Take off your gloves. Now paint it with the lipstick. All of it. I
want it to be fuscia from top to bottom."

I stretched it, stroked the tube of vivid color up and down. It
hardened as I did, exposing yet more surface area to be coated. She
climbed from the tub, stood at my feet as I finished.

"Do your mouth, baby. Smear it on heavy."

The chills racing through me weren't caused by the cool floor. I ran
the lipstick over my mouth again and again until she nodded approval.

"Now jack off, bitch." She grabbed my ankles and bent me double, pushing
my knees as wide as they'd go. My shaft felt greasy in my palm, which was
instantly coated with bright color. She strained my back and neck muscles
until they screamed with pain, leaning all her weight on my comma shaped
body, forcing my cock closer and closer to my face.

"Pull your plug, cunt. Fuck your ass with the lipstick. No! Leave the
cap off the tube!"

The plug came out with the usual wet sensation. It was larger than the
lipstick, which slid easily inside my loosened hole. I held it so I could
see the dark plastic holder go in and out. My hand was a blur on my dick.
Slowly, my strained muscles let it come still closer to my slick red lips.

"Lick it, whore."

I strained my tongue as far as possible, but it wasn't far enough. I
was an inch away from the smeared, swollen purplish- red tip.

"Cum, lover. Shoot every drop right in your slutty little mouth."

As if her command was enough to make me explode, I did precisely what
she demanded. The closeup sight of my expanding, pulsing prick, the vision
of the first gout of sperm being expelled, the shocking sensation of my cum
spattering inside my gaping mouth - these factors seemed to quadruple the
intensity of my orgasm, send me into a realm beyond anything I'd ever
imagined. At that instant, my tongue somehow managed to make contact with
my leaping cock.

Something happened deep within my soul. Something irreversible. It was
like an electrical circuit had been closed, a psychic switch flipped. An
all new energy burned through me. It was entirely my imagination, but I
felt the whole length of my dick slide between my lips, into my mouth, down
my throat. All this in the split second before the second burst of cum hit
my hard palate, instantly followed by the third and fourth. By then, my
entire body was involved in the

mind-boggling climax. My ass was spasming around the lipstick tube,
squeezing it like a pussy does a cock. My hips were desperately trying to
fuck my mouth.

As the surges began to fade, my universe expanded beyond my body. I
heard my harsh gasps for air, Ellen's thick voiced encouragements. The
heel of one of my red shoes was buried in her cunt. But, above all, the
wonderful ripeness of my cum coated my mouth and tongue and soul.

I'd been made whole. A single touch of tongue to cock had made all the
difference in the world.

I caught the last oozes and dribbles in my cupped palm, milked my staff
with my lipstick covered fist, and licked it clean with a voracious hunger.
I'd stepped over a precipice and was still falling. My taste had been
whetted, not appeased. I wanted more - craved a steady flow of sperm down
my throat, not the teasing appetizer I'd given myself. I knew I'd gone mad
and I welcomed it.

Ellen disrupted my delirious reverie by lifting herself off my spike
heel and dropping my rubbery legs. She fell atop me, her hips thrusting
incoherently against my shrinking dick, her lips devouring mine, her tongue
frantic to share the flavor of my sperm. I felt the lipstick tube slip
from my ass. I opened my jaws to my wife, letting her lap from my cavity
like a dog does from a bowl. She too was cumming, using my spent rod to
rub her clit.

When she abruptly jerked away from me, her face bore an expression that
was as crazed as mine must have been. Her voice was low and raw. "Wash
the slime off your face and hands, whore. Leave everything else exactly as
it is and have your nasty ass in the bedroom in three

minutes."

She bolted from the bathroom like a berserker before I could move.
Every muscle in my body was relaxed. Pushing myself to my knees took a
massive effort. But I could almost hear a clock ticking off the seconds in
my head. I was infected by her wild energy. I scrubbed at my face and
hands, whining with frustration at the stubbornness of the lipstick's
stains.

I had no idea if I met her deadline. Neither did Ellen. She was
throwing clothes at the bed as I hurried on wobbly legs into the bedroom.

"Get dressed, you sleazy cunt."

I tried to be careful not to smear my lipsticked cock and ass on my
hands as I arranged my organs in the tight grip of the retainer. I
squirmed into the red corset while she lit a cigarette and stared at me
through narrowed, smoldering eyes. I rolled up equally red hose, stepped
into scarlet bikini panties. I looked around for an ass plug. There was
none. I looked at her helplessly, seeking guidance.

She grabbed the laces of the corset and began hooking me into it. Never
had she used such strength, restrained me so impossibly tight. Even
without the gel filled breast forms, my tit flesh bulged into the cups. My
nipples were nearly as swollen as my wife's. And I wished it was tighter
still. I ached for my tits to fill the cups to overflowing.

She tied me off and roughly pushed me toward the vanity. "Paint
yourself, slut. We're going out. We're going to get you laid for real.
Make yourself look like the whore you are, Sheila. If you don't use enough
makeup, I'll make you watch while some real man drills my cunt, then make
you lick his cum out of me."

I was utterly infected. I wanted that. I wanted to lay helplessly
beside her while a long fat prick drilled her wet pussy. I wanted to hear
her cries, watch her humping, spasming body. My mouth watered at the
thought of tasting her cum mixed with someone's sperm. It would've

been more like reward than punishment.

I created a face just as slutty as she wanted because I wanted it as
much as she did - maybe even more. I felt hollow, empty. I was going to
be fucked. By a man.

"Good," she growled, rubbing her cunt against the back of my head. She
ran a dildo over my cheek. "Use this on yourself while I do my makeup.
Don't even think about cumming again."

I flopped on the bed, curled my sexy legs to my chest and stroked the
long thin rubber cock in and out of my lipstick slickened ass while I
watched her. It was good. Very good.

I won't lie. I won't claim that everything that happened that night was
because of Ellen's dominance. That had nothing to do with it. I did it
all on my own. My mind remained filled with a haze as thick as my cum. It
allowed only surreal images of twisted lust to take shape. I was
possessed.

I spoke the name of the notorious bi-sexual bar through lips too heavy
with lipstick and gloss. I drove us there while she used the dildo on her
gushing pussy. I licked it clean after each of her two orgasms. I asked
her for a cigarette after we parked, after I'd freshened my wet red lips,
just before I led our pranced entrance. I sucked smoke as I scanned the
crowd, found us a table. I crossed my legs so anyone who cared to got a
good look at my long thighs.

I was completely devoid of shame. I selected and rejected my dance
partners, seeking just the right man. I found him after about a half hour.
I forgot about Ellen, who was on the dance floor dry fucking some guy. I
was at the table, working on my second drink and my third cigarette. I
wanted him the moment he sat in my wife's empty chair. My half hard clit
lurched toward the crack of my ass. My lips ached to be crushed under his,
and I unabashedly let him know it.

He wanted to dance first. I felt his cock swell against my belly as I
pressed into him. It was for me. His cum was for me. I wrapped my arms
around his neck and strained against him. I stood on tiptoe and claimed
his mouth, drove my tongue between his parted lips exactly like I wanted
his prick to take me. He finally got the idea. I was no nice girl playing
the dating game. I was a wanton slut who only wanted his meat.

Ellen had guided her partner near us and caught my eye. Her hand was
openly rubbing her man's cock. Her mouth was smeared. Her nipples were
twin bullets trying to tear through her black cocktail dress. Her
gyrations on the dance floor had raised her skirt high enough to expose

the tops of her hose. Her eyes were glowing embers, drilling into me.

I was looking at her while I licked my date's ear and whispered into it.
"I want to suck your cock. I need your cum."

I led him to our car, pushed him into the back seat. My quaking hand
was on his zipper before he was settled against the far door. When I felt
the heat of his long, stiff, smooth cock in my hands, I froze. A wild
thrill ripped up my spine, exploded against the top of my skull, s**ttering
hot sparks everywhere. Time slowed. I watched my lovely hands drag it out
into view. My little fists encircled it, traveled its length, measured its
girth. My mouth filled with saliva. This was

it. The time had come. My head was pulled toward his lap by an
irresistible force.

I already knew what it'd feel like, taste like, look like. There were
no surprises. Far, far back, in the dark corners of my mind, I'd imagined
this all my life. Since puberty, I'd craved this. My passion-heavy red
lips met the tip of his prick, kissed it tenderly, like a long lost lover.

I knew what to do. I knew how to make him as crazy with need as I was.
No born-woman could know what I did about how to please a man.

I made love to a disembodied cock, not the nameless man it was attached
to. I licked and sucked and kissed. I ran him into and out of my mouth,
fondling his heavy, hairy balls, flirting with his ass, occasionally
gasping and shuddering and having to just jack him off as I was consumed
with wild ecstasy.

He came too soon. I almost missed it. I had to lunge down on him as
his groans suddenly changed tone, as I felt his dick harden yet more and
begin its preliminary twitching. My head bobbed up and down, taking as
much splendor into my mouth as I could manage.

When the first gush came, I was ready. I tightened my lips on him and
began my own orgasm as his seed hit the top of my throat with marvelous
force. I wanted to remember each pulse, each gout, each choked swallow -
but I lost track. Specifics faded beneath the groundswell of my

fulfillment. All I recall is drinking him dry, trying to suck him hard
again, and being pushed away.

He was too sensitive, he said. I was hurting him. I didn't care. I
wanted that fine prick in my readied ass. It was literally pulsing with
need. And he wasn't interested. I watched in angry disbelief as he put
his cock away. He said he wasn't into being watched and slipped out the
door behind him.

That was the first indication I had of my wife's presence. I swept my
hair out of my eyes and looked over my shoulder. She was leaning against
the car next to ours fingering her cunt, pinching her carelessly bared
tits. I leaned into the front seat, grabbed the dildo she'd left laying
there. I held it out to her, positioned myself on all fours on the seat.

Ellen lurched forward and took over. The second she drove it between my
ass cheeks, I came again. She blocked my raw scream with her hand and
fucked me with just the savagery I needed. She kept it up even after my
arms collapsed, dropping my face onto the upholstery. She

continued, using both hands, while the seat muffled my choked sobs and
wails. I'm nearly positive I had yet a third orgasm before her arms tired,
but by then I was reduced to delirium. My hips had a life of their own,
kept rolling and thrusting long after the dildo squirted from my hungry
hole and clunked to the floorboard.

8. Chapter - Aftermath

I recall nothing more until Ellen slapped me awake. She was standing
impatiently outside the opened car door.

"Wake up, slut. Time for bed."

I was still in the back seat, but the car was now in our garage. I was
on my back, my knees lifted, with the long dildo hugged tight to my chest.
I awoke with full knowledge of where we'd been, what I'd done. I sucked a
harsh breath and groaned when I tried to move. My ass felt

like the dildo was still inside, heated white hot. The man's cum was
sour in my mouth. An emotion was building in me that I couldn't name.

I saw the next slap coming, but was too sluggish to avoid it.

"I said move, goddamn it!"

I moved. I dragged myself upright. Clambering out of the car and
finding my balance took enormous energy. My compressed, underclad body
weighed tons. I wasn't fast enough for her.

My wife grabbed my long tangled mane and jerked hard. I staggered after
her, off balance, bent forward, flailing my arms to keep from falling.

"You're hurting me," I whined piteously. The back of my mouth was sore
and my jaws ached.

Her only response was to bark a nasty laugh and walk more quickly. The
kitchen again. This time I knew exactly why I was being punished, and
offered no resistance as she put my ankles in a spreader bar I'd never seen
before, cuffed my hands behind me and lifted them toward the

ceiling, bending me into a right angle. She left me there. I was
afraid that I'd collapse and dislocate my shoulders. I hadn't even managed
to adjust to the position before she returned, carrying a full length
mirror. She lowered it to the floor and slid it under me, between my
widely spread legs.

She lit a cigarette. She'd repaired her beautifully sexy face somewhere
along the line. She didn't seem as angry. "Look at yourself, Sheila. I
never want you to forget this."

I was stunned, as if she'd slapped me again. First, of course, I saw my
face. My tangled platinum blonde hair hung down, framing my totally ruined
heavy makeup. My eyes were surrounded by wide black circles of blurred
eyeliner and mascara. The remaining deep emerald and rust eyeshadow looked
bland. My lips looked bruised, were ringed with a wide smear that was all
that remained of my thick lipstick. My false tits looked huge with my
shoulders pinned back. The hem of my wrinkled red minidress had risen, but
I'd have been able to see all the way up anyway from this angle. Where had
the little red panties gone? My retainer dug into the soft flesh of my
groin, hugging my male organs into invisibility. The pale, slim thighs
below were caked with dried cum. My vision swam for a moment. I thought
it was his, that there was a beautiful cunt hidden in there, that it'd
leaked the some of the sperm he'd shot so deeply into my soul.

The stark light of the camera's flash attachment as Ellen photographed
me from every angle jerked me back toward reality.

"Pose for me, baby. Push that great butt out. Can you see how red it
is around your asshole? You were fucked good, whore. Too bad it wasn't
the real thing in there. It'd have felt as good as it did in your throat.
But you know that, right? You wanted it, but the fucker let you down,
didn't he?"

I nodded, remembered to add a verbal "Yes," as well.

"But you know there'll be other times. Any bitch as hot as you are can
get fucked anytime you want. And a nympho cunt like you will want it a
lot. You'll have so many dicks shoved in that tight ass and between those
cocksucking lips that you'll lose count of them."

She fed me the cigarette. I watched my lips suck it, my chest expand as
much as it could given my restraints, then my mouth purse as I exhaled. I
felt her doing something to my left hand, realized she was removing my
wedding band. I'd noted its incongruity once or twice. As

Ellen twisted it off my finger, I realized just how wrong it was to wear
it any longer. Women don't wear wide gold bands. They can't be married
other women in our state. I tried and failed to blink away a rush of
tears. Suddenly, the name of the dull emotion filling me had a name.

It was grief. I was mourning my own death. Ellen's husband was dead,
gone forever. Shamelessly begging to suck that cock, thrilling to each and
every sensation, had sealed his fate, made his resurrection, not merely
unlikely, but impossible. I was Sheila now, body and soul.

I was surprised to feel her doing something else to my ring finger. A
new ring, lighter, thinner, slipped over my knuckle. I strained my neck
but couldn't see it. She slid her hand down my back, cupped my ass cheeks
and petted them.

"How much money do we have in savings?"

Her finger distracted me as it toyed with my tender asshole. Her
question made no sense for a moment. I sniffed away tears enough to speak.
"I, uh, about two thousand, I guess."

"Good. That'll get us started."

"Started?"

"You want real tits, don't you? They cost money, darling. More like
five thousand than two, I think."

Her finger dipped inside me. My eyes locked on the reflection of my
chest in the mirror. Real tits. Nice big, firm mounds hanging there. To
overflow my slinky bras. To fill a bikini top on the beach. To be petted,
sucked and bitten.

Her voice was dim in my ears. She inserted a second finger. "Umm. I
knew that'd turn you on, slut. We'll shave your larynx and change your
voice while we're at it. Maybe someday we'll be able to buy you a nice
tight cunt, too. Have a doctor gut that useless prick and tuck it away

inside you. You'd have three holes, whore. Room for three cocks at the
same time. You'd like that. Three men fucking you. Hands all over you,
driving you crazy with lust."

Her other hand rubbed my too big clit while her fingers wiggled within
me. I was thrusting against her, watching my sleazy lips pant as my
passion again spiraled toward a new peak.

"Oh, honey," I groaned weakly. "Oh, shit. Fuck me, Ellen. Put
something big and fat in me. Something hot and hard. I need it, honey. I
need it bad."

She laughed merrily. "I've got just the thing. I've been saving it for
a special time like this. Ron? Baby, come on in here."

I saw my shock in the mirror more than I felt it. Ron? We had a
neighbor named Ron. A body-builder our age. Married to a dull, silent
girl named Miriam.

Before I could even shape the question in my mind, it was answered. I
saw a pair of hairy, pillar-like legs approach. Barefoot.

"Take over up here," she purred throatily, withdrawing her fingers from
my ass. "I'll get you ready."

Thicker fingers replaced hers, entered me without delicacy. I saw Ellen
sink to her knees, peer at me from between my legs. She licked her
gleaming scarlet lips. Her hands weighed a huge, hairy pair of balls,
massaged a growing cock. Without taking her eyes off me, she kissed its
swelling head, licked it with a lascivious tongue.

"Yeah, I've been fucking Ron for almost a year, Sheila. I love you, but
your puny prick was never enough for me. Fucking you was always more like
screwing a woman with a cock than being with a real man."

Ron laughed at that, making his dick leap in her hand. She gave it a
more lingering kiss, allowing the whole head to enter her mouth, and
moaning around it. Saliva and lipstick clung to it as she let it pop out.

"We fucked with you right in the next room lots of times, Sheila. We
were doing it in the pool house at the Robinson's party when I told him how
much you got off sneaking around in my lingerie. He was the one who
suggested that we bring you out of the closet, cunt. He saw you

staring at his crotch a couple of times and knew how much you'd love
fucking other guys. He helped me plan the whole thing. He deserves a good
fuck, don't you think? He deserves to be the first to dump a wad in your
ass. Give him a good ride, baby."

She guided his swollen, slickened dick between my cheeks. Her eyes
glittered and her lips were parted as she teased me, rubbing the head
around my puckered hole. What she said was true. I'd noticed the size of
his manhood with what I thought was shameful envy. Now I knew

better. It was desire.

My hole was slick and ready. I tried to push against Ron's hard on.
Ellen backed his cock away, continued her maddening flirtation. "Tell him
what you want, Sheila."

I knew I was doing exactly as she'd said I would. I was begging to be
ass fucked. Without hesitation, I let my needs roll from my slutty mouth.
"Fuck me, Ron. Fuck my ass hard and deep. Please. Give me what you've
been giving Ellen. Cum in me. I need you. I've wanted you ever since I
watched you move in last year. Ram that fat cock all the way in and fuck
me like a whore."

It was nothing like the dildos Ellen had impaled in me. It was hot,
both hard and silky soft - alive! And, it was huge. As he thrust in that
first few inches, I felt myself stretching, and was filled with a burning
agony. If I could have spoken then, I'd have been begging him to stop. I
couldn't. My lips gaped, made a horrified red circle in the mirror. My
heavily made up eyes were huge. Ron yelled in pain and slapped my ass with
a hard, resounding smack. "Relax, cunt! You're hurting me!"

I gasped for breath tried to concentrate on doing what he said. I must
have achieved it, because he slid in deeper, then began a slow pumping.
Each push lessened the pain. The heat of him, the overwhelming fullness of
my ass, felt unlike anything I'd ever known. The mirror

showed his thick shaft disappearing and emerging from my body. Ellen
looked as enraptured as I was. She had one hand in her cunt, was making
wet noises with her fingers. She used the other to alternately hold her
lover's balls and caress my hidden ones.

Overcome with lust, Ron gave up on gentleness. He took my narrow hips
in his hands and pushed hard, forcing the last half of his meat all the way
in. He started slamming into my ass then, without concern for my comfort.
After three of four of his grunting thrusts, I no longer cared. It still
hurt, but the pain became secondary. The sights and sounds and sensations
transported me, mutated the agony, changed it to joy. I started wiggling
my hips, pushed back to greet his plunging cock. I was fucking my wife's
lover, not merely being fucked by him.

It lasted forever and was over too soon. I don't remember Ellen jerking
my retainer off my male organs. I don't know when she started sucking my
straining clit. But I do know that when Ron's pace became frantic, when
his impacts started jarring my teeth and I was positive he was going to
fill me with his cum, I exploded in my wife's hungry mouth with enough
force to gag her.

But, glorious as that was, it paled in significance when Ron blew his
wad in my guts. I closed my eyes. I swear to god I felt his jerking spew
all the way to my throat. I milked him, did my best to squeeze every drop
of his precious sperm from him.

As his pulsing diminished, I felt soft lips on mine, tasted the tangy
cum coating them. I returned Ellen's impassioned kiss, sucked my cum from
her full mouth.

Finally, I was whole.

"Thank you," I murmured into her mouth, making our kiss tender, more
loving than I'd known a kiss could be.

My knees were too weak to support me. When they collapsed, my shoulders
were wrenched hideously. Had Ron not still been gripping my hips, I'd have
dislocated them both. He held me up, his cock shrinking rapidly in my ass,
while Ellen stumbled to her feet and dashed for the

rope. As she released it, our lover lowered me to the cold mirror. I
felt his jism leaking from my hole, warm and sticky, as he pulled out. One
of them freed my arms from the handcuffs.

I lay there on my side, frail and helpless, while Ellen and Ron
embraced. Her hand massaged his limp dick while he crushed her against him
and she strained against his hard lips.

She tore her mouth from his. "I want you," she growled. "It's my
turn." She jerked her head to face me. "Get him hard for me, slut."

She led him by the dick to me, pushed him down toward my face. I bathed
his spent flesh in hot, wet, hungry kisses, tenderly took it into my mouth
and nursed on it, felt it begin to swell, fill my cavity. The second prick
to visit my mouth tasted nothing like the first, felt even better. But
Ellen deprived me of it as soon as I'd gotten it hard. She positioned
herself on her hands and knees beside me, guided the pole in her hand
between spread thighs. Her eyes closed blissfully

as he entered her. I reached out and started squeezing her dangling
tits. Ron batted my hands away and grabbed them himself, using them for
handles as he rode her, just as savagely as he had me.

His violent thrusts moved her face closer to me. When her eyes opened,
they were glassy with lust. She attacked my mouth with hers, grunted into
me each time he hammered her. When she started cumming, she bit my lower
lip. Each time she spasmed, she bit harder. When he suddenly

stopped, she whined in shock and need.

His voice was a snarl. "Slide under your cunt of a wife, bitch. Lick
my balls while I fuck her. See how a real woman takes a dick."

I scrambled to obey. I not only kissed and sucked his balls, I also
flicked my tongue over Ellen's swollen clit, lapped the fluids that
overflowed her pussy. Her lips were on my organ again, lapping the cum
that'd oozed from my ass. I was still so loose that her tongue actually
entered me. I humped her face like the wanton slut I was. I had no more
boundaries. A lifetime of limits, of denial, rolled off me like a shed
skin. I embraced my new existence, fit both Ron's tender balls between
widely opened lips and rolled my wife's clit with unabashed abandon.

She began another series of orgasms, had to give up my little dick in
order to howl and scream. I released Ron's testicles when I felt them
tighten. It was astounding to see his huge rod swell and throb and fill
her twitching cunt with another load of cum. As it leaked past her labia,
I devoured it, eliciting still more shrieks from her. Ron jerked out and
rolled away, gasping for breath. I devoured her vacated hole, and she
continued to cum, continued to shrilly cry out,

wracked by spasms I refused to let end.

Finally, sobbing, she fell on top of me, moving her throbbing groin out
of reach.

A sated, warm relaxation enveloped me. I only vaguely recall the chill
when Ellen rolled off me. She and Ron spoke softly, but I could make no
sense of their words. I sank into a deep peaceful sleep.

9. Chapter - Awakening

There was a vague noise. It was dark. The bed was far too hard, too
cold. I was curled into a tight ball. When I began to roll over, I was
ripped by pain. My ass. My jaws. My shoulders. I moaned.

"Wake up, whore." The ceiling light flared blindingly.

Memory filled me, and my pain was explained. I was still on the kitchen
floor.

Ellen leaned against the doorframe, smoking. She wore only high heels
and hose. Her nipples were swollen. Bite marks decorated the slope of her
tits. Her makeup was mostly gone. What remained made her look cheap, used
- and beautiful.

I tried to speak. My throat was dry, raw, emitted only a croak.

"Ron went home," she explained. "We're through with the bed. Get your
sleazy ass up there."

I was afraid I'd have to crawl up the stairs, but somehow managed to
climb painfully to my feet. I used the walls to keep myself erect and
followed her swaying ass and trail of smoke.

She released me from the corset and made me sleep in the huge wet spot
they'd left on the sheets. Each breath filled me with the perfume of their
fucking. I'd been good enough to earn a night in bed. No chains. The
world faded again.

It was still dark when I awoke, my bowels and bladder both demanding
relief. I eased Ellen's arm off me and tiptoed into the bathroom. It hurt
so much that I was afraid I was shitting blood, but my stool looked
perfectly normal. Wiping was agonizing. I shuddered a little, remembering
how huge Ron had felt in me, and hoped that being fucked wasn't always
going to hurt so much.

I steeled myself before using the mirror, but the glass wasn't the enemy
it had been. Even without the corset, I was able to convince myself that
my image was that of an undeveloped - rather, a developing - woman. Those
sweet lips had hosted two cocks after all, and the

dimpled ass had taken its first prick. I squeezed and lifted my chest.
If I continued to please Ellen, my tits would grow into firm globes like
hers. Men could suck them, slide their greased dicks between them as I
pressed them together. I'd could kiss the cock heads at the top of their
thrusts, watch them swell and eject their sperm all over my face.

I renewed my vow to be good and fought down the urge to stroke my hard
clit.

I was ready to turn off the light and go back to bed when I finally
noticed the ring. Where my wedding band had been was a small diamond
engagement ring. A stab of sadness knifed me, the grief that'd been cut
off before. I hurriedly flicked off the light, but the emotion wasn't so
easily banished. It clung to me like stale sperm, refusing to allow me to
get back to sleep.

Mourning my own death was hard. There was no corpse to shed tears over,
nothing to bury so the healing could begin. I lay there until Ellen awoke.
I went through the motions of bathing, dressing, applying my makeup,
fetching and carrying for her on command. If she noticed my

silent anguish, she made no comment.

After I'd done the breakfast dishes, she had me give us both manicures.
She was surly, terse, easily upset. She smoked heavily and her every word
dripped with scorn. Nothing I did was quite good enough. I was extremely
cautious, not wanting to do anything to upset her further. A

sinking feeling was added to my vague sorrow. Something was wrong. She
left me to do my chores and vanished into our bedroom.

It was a little after two in the afternoon when she came downstairs,
dressed to kill in the wet looking black minidress and metal-tipped
stiletto heels. Her makeup and bearing were those of a *********. I was
nearly finished mopping the kitchen floor. She stood close enough to let
me see that, as before, her shaven cunt was exposed between her mesh hose
and garter belt. I felt plain in my work clothes and minimal makeup.

"I'm going out. I want you to meet me in the airport Hilton bar at
eight. Wear something really slutty, Sheila. There's someone I want you
to meet."

"Are you ..." I swallowed. "Is Ron ..."

"This has nothing to do with Ron, darling. It's strictly for us. But
it's very important - maybe the most important date you'll ever have - so
look your best. Understand?"

I let my eyes fall from her moist pussy back to the vinyl. "Do you have
to go so early? I mean -"

Her smoky laugh was sharp enough to interrupt me. "Is my little fag
bitch scared to be alone? Or just jealous that I may be getting my brains
fucked out while you're doing housework?"

I blushed. "You've never left me by myself before."

"Of course I have, love. At the beauty salon, and right here in this
room. You've spent hours all by yourself. Your chains and ropes are just
invisible now." She stroked my long hair, pulled my head against her belly,
rubbed my cheek over her sleekly covered mons. "Would you like to kiss my
pussy goodbye? Get it nice and moist for the cock that may be in it in a
while?"

I nodded. She planted her feet to either side of my head. I slid the
skirt up and exposed her brown-lipped lower mouth. She rocked up and down
on my tongue and nose until my face was wet with her flow. As I ate her, I
was overcome with desire. She was going out, going to get herself laid for
some mysterious purpose, and I was preparing her for whoever would part
these very lips with a prick. I wondered how often she'd done this sort of
thing without my knowledge. I wondered how many men had fucked her eager
pussy while I watched a stupid football games or stayed late at the office.
I wondered if Ron knew what a slut she was. And, I wondered who she'd
fixed me up with, who'd be fucking my ass or mouth in a few hours - and why
it was so important.

She abruptly jerked her flooded core from my hungry mouth, ending my
lusty reverie. Her voice was low and throaty. "Take off your blouse,
baby. I need to tighten your corset before I leave."

It was the red one. As she strained against the laces, compressing my
waist to at least twenty-two inches, I was already visualizing what I'd
wear to meet her. How many loads of cum would her body have absorbed by
the time I arrived? A sudden thought stopped my impassioned

planning. "How will I get there? To the hotel?"

"A cab, of course. I left twenty dollars on the vanity."

Somehow the idea of taking a taxi was more intimidating than getting
dressed to go fuck some stranger. I tried to hide my nerves, as well as my
shameful excitement. Her crooked scarlet smile told me I failed at both.
She tied off my laces, smoothed her dress to cover as much as it could, and
swayed out without another word. I listened as her metal shod heels
clacked over the floor, silently crossed the carpet, then echoed for a few
strides in the garage. The door ground open. I

watched from the window as she backed down the drive, cigarette dangling
between slick, fat red lips. I saw Jerome Hillyard, our neighbor across
the street, stare open mouthed at the change that'd taken place in her.
Had he done more than stare? Had she fucked him, too? How many of our
neighbors had dipped their wicks in Ellen's hot hole? A lot of them, I
perversely hoped, twisting the engagement band circling my ring finger.

I fought the urge to dash upstairs and begin getting ready. It was too
soon. And Ellen had made it clear that she expected all my work to be done
before I left the house. I compelled myself to settle down and do the
laundry.

I'd barely fixed my lipstick and gotten started when the doorbell rang.
I froze in the midst of loading the dryer with damp lingerie. I couldn't
answer the door! What if it was Jerome, or some other acquaintance? I
couldn't let anybody see me like this! I decided to ignore it, pretend I
wasn't home. But whoever was there leaned insistently on the buzzer.

I peeked from the laundry room window, was simultaneously thrilled and
dismayed to see that it was Ron. I was hesitant to let him in without
Ellen there. He'd want to know where she'd gone, what she was doing. He
was liable to fly into a jealous rage. But he obviously wasn't

going to leave.

Checking my face in the mirror, I fluffed my hair a little and hurried
nervously to the door. I wouldn't let him in. I'd tell him we were busy,
that I'd have Ellen call as soon as she could.

But, the instant I opened the door a crack, he pushed it wider and
stepped past me.

"Ellen's busy," I blurted, hiding behind the door, leaving it open.
"Maybe you should come back -"

"Ellen's gone. I saw the car drive up the block a few minutes ago." He
ambled insolently to the couch and sat down.

"Then what ..." I began, but my voice failed me. Was he here to see me?

"Close the door and come over here, bitch. I've been thinking about
that tight asshole of yours all day. I want another piece of it."

I blushed, both fearful and flattered. I was sure Ellen wouldn't want
him to use me unless she was here to watch. He was her boyfriend, after
all. "I don't think that's a good idea, Ron." I kept the door cracked.

"Oh, come off it, slut! Don't play hard to get. We both know that's
pure bullshit. You know you want it. You let me know last night how much
you liked it. So get your sleazy ass over here. Wrap those hot lips
around my dick and let me fuck that sexy face. If you're real good, I may
even let you jack off while I drill your ass."

He was right, of course. I did want it. I had the instant I saw him
through the window. I vividly remembered how grand it'd been to be filled,
stretched, used like I was a real woman. Honestly, part of his
attractiveness was because he was Ellen's lover. Having the prick that'd
been in her so many times rammed into me made me feel even more weak kneed.
It'd be wicked to fuck him behind her back. But, if I got caught ...

Wickedness won out. Besides, if I resisted, he'd just take me anyway.
What could I do? Call the police and scream ****? Run madly from the
house? I leaned against the door and flipped the deadbolt.

He wasn't into small talk or foreplay. As I approached, both eager and
timid, Ron pointed to the floor between his legs. I sank to my knees,
staring at the growing lump hidden by his shorts. It knew how large it
was, what it tasted like. And this time, I didn't have to share it with
anyone. I was alone with my first man. I was betraying Ellen just like
she had me. I was as big a whore as she was. Saliva began to fill my
mouth.

But I wanted information along with his dick. I wanted to know how
large a role he'd played in changing me into the cock hungry bitch I'd
become in less than a week. So, as I reached out to lightly massage his
cock, I licked my lips and tried to milk him of more than his cum.

"I meant to thank you last night for everything you've done to help
Ellen."

His laugh was brutal. "Jesus. I can't believe you're really into it
this much. How can any man let this happen to him without a fight?"

I slowly lowered his zipper. "I'm not just any man," I told his
swelling groin. "I've always been a wimp. I think I've wanted to be like
this all my life, but never had the courage to admit it. I thought you
knew that."

"Not until Ellen told me about how much you got off on her clothes and
shit."

My hand reached his flesh. It was so warm, so silky. "I wish she'd
told you sooner. How long did you two plan this?"

He drew a harsh breath as I fished his manhood from his underwear and
loose shorts. It was beautiful. It nestled against my curved red nails
like an eager pet begging to be stroked.

"Six months or so, I guess. God, you're sexy. Kiss it, bitch."

I teased the head with my tongue. I wanted the whole thing buried in my
throat, but was enraptured with the power of my situation. Ellen had made
me beg. Ron had, too, the night before. I wanted to turn the tables. He
already wanted me, but I needed him to crave me, to plead with me.

"Tell me about it. It's so exciting, Ron. I want to hear everything."

While I tinted his cock flesh with my brilliant lip color, while I
licked his hairy sack, I prompted him to keep talking.

"I knew the look," he groaned. "Guys have been looking at my dick in
the shower, just the way you did, ever since I was a k**. I knew right off
you were a fag, and couldn't figure out why a gorgeous bitch like Ellen
stayed with you. Ooh, shit. Deeper, baby."

I tried to angle my head, to fit more of him between my bulging lips.
Pink saliva glistened the length of his rod. It felt like my mouth had
been designed to do this. "More," I gasped. "Tell me more."

"Ahh! That's it!" he groaned as my questing lips took more meat,
stretched to reach for his balls. His hips started to rise and fall.
"Ellen laughed when I told her how you looked at me. That's when she
started watching you closer and caught you messing around in her shit. I
told her I thought you'd make a hot looking slut. God, was I ever right!
Oh, yeah! Suck it, baby!"

I was thrilled beyond words when my throat seemed to open and I
swallowed him. My smeared lips nestled at the very root of his prick. I'd
done it! I stayed there, immobile but for my spasming throat and questing
lips, until black motes swam before my eyes and I was compelled to release
him and gasp air. I stared down in astonishment at his glistening eight
inches. I was ready to cum. I resisted the impulse to reach down and
touch myself and rocket into heaven. I wanted this to last. I wanted to
hear more. I was certain I could make him tell me whatever I wanted.

"You wanted me, too," I purred, lapping the length of his staff with my
tongue. "You've always wanted me to suck your cock, haven't you?"

"Yeah. I knew you'd be good. Almost every time I fucked Ellen, I
dreamed of you looking like this, doing this. I wanted to hurry things
along. Your bitch of a wife insisted we had to go slow."

"Umm," I said, taking him half way in then backing off. "Good things
come to those who wait, lover. Am I as good as she is?"

"Better," he growled, grabbing my hair and jerking my head down. Now
that I knew how, I let him impale every wonderful inch into me. "She won't
let me fuck her ass, and deep throat makes her puke."

He humped my mouth until I was afraid I was going to pass out. I had to
struggle free. My voice was raw. I felt crazed by my need for what was
happening. But there was still a glimmer of caginess left in me, as if it
was part of my widening lust. "You can do anything you want

to me. I don't care. The dirtier and nastier, the better. I love
being treated like a cheap whore. Was that your idea, too?"

"Yeah. Nothing turns my crank more than sluts in tight dresses and wild
makeup. The first time I made Ellen dress up for me, I fucked her for four
hours non-stop. I made her cum until she begged me to quit. She loved it,
too. I knew she would. Anybody who wanted to turn her old man into a
fucking woman had to be really twisted. Turns out she couldn't get enough
after that."

I was pumping him with both hands, letting my mouth writhe over the top
half of his erection. I didn't know how much more I could take. My
sphincter muscles were tightening and loosening on my butt plug. My ass
felt moist, more than ready.

"Did you make her fuck other guys? Did you make her dress cheap and
take her out and show her off?"

He was close to losing control. "We went to parties. It was her idea.
But she never hosed anybody else. I wondered if maybe she wanted to, but
it ever happened. I let her flirt, dance, make them hot, then I'd take her
into a bedroom and fuck her stupid. We'd go back and party

some more and my cum would be running down her legs." He struggled up in
the sofa, tried to pry me off his cock. "Has she been fucking around? Has
she?"

"No!" I insisted, kissing just the head of his hard treasure. "Of
course not! You keep her so well fucked, how could she?"

"Have you fucked her, slut? Have you poked that little dick of your
inside her pussy?"

I pulled on his cock and backed away from the sofa. "Not for almost a
month - and never again. I eat her whenever she wants. I can make her cum
with my tongue better than I ever could the other way. Come here, Ron.
I'm so fucking hot. My ass needs you so bad. Fuck me. Please. Fill my
hot little ass with that huge thing. Make me scream. Fuck me hard and
mean and shoot your cum way, way up inside me. Tell me what's going to
happen next, baby."

He stroked himself, staring at me with burning eyes while I wiggled out
of my tight jeans. I'm not even sure he knew he was speaking.

"She going to do like she said. She's going to get you tits. Make you
get a job as a woman. She says she's got friends who can help."

I curled my legs up toward my chest, spread my ass cheeks so he could
see me remove my plug. The sensation of having him watch me readying
myself for him was a thrill as intense as swallowing his entire length had
been. He was so big, so strong. I was weak and small - yet I was in
control.

He leapt toward me, rolled me over onto my stomach. "Wait," I
whispered. "I want this to be good. The best you've ever had, Ron. I want
to make my asshole slick and wet for you. I want to lube myself with my
cum. When you fuck me, it'll be like fucking myself."

I had him hypnotized. I relished having my ass raised for him, peeling
away my retainer, exposing my purpled, lust heavy cock and balls. I knew
something he didn't. He was as gay as I was. He wanted me more than he
ever wanted Ellen. I could have made him suck me, as I had him - but a sly
part of me knew that if I did, I'd lose control of him. He'd be too
sickened by what he'd done to ever be nice to me again. He needed to
believe he was the neighborhood's straight, macho, musclebound hunk. So, I
gripped myself, tickled myself with my long painted nails and teased him
yet more. I bent my rod back and imagined it was sliding up my ass. It
only took a few moments. I gasped, with my inflamed cheek pressed into the
carpet, while I pumped sticky

streams toward my back door and rubbed my sperm into my tender flesh,
dipping my fingers into my loosened asshole, pushing as much cum as I could
inside myself.

My voice was hollow with need. "Do it, Ron. Fuck me. Do it now."

I took him much easier than I had the first time. There was no pain or
chain to distract me. Like my mouth, my ass now seemed designed for cock.
I revelled in the spoils of my seduction, the depth of his hammering
thrusts. I had more power as a woman than I'd ever had as a man. My body
had become a real tool for pleasure. Cindy had given me my retainer in
return for sexual favors and told me how fantastic I was. The man I'd
sucked at the bar had paid me with a drink and cigarettes in return for the
blowjob of his life. I'd wrapped Ron around my painted pinky. I was
beginning to think I might be able to manipulate Ellen, if I was careful.

Ron's pummelling was taking its toll on me. My cock had rehardened.
When I angled my hips just right, it felt like he was fucking the inside of
my overgrown clit. Sharp electric bolts tore through me, and all thoughts
were buried beneath the cascade of sensation. When he howled and filled my
guts with his cream, I jerked and spewed in sympathy. He collapsed atop
me, his mass pinning me to the carpet. Being held and having my neck
kissed between his ragged breaths was

almost as rewarding as being fucked.

"You are one fine lay, cunt," he sighed into my ear. "We'll have to do
this again."

I carefully squeezed my buttocks together, caressing his still buried
dick. "Any time, darling. But right now, I'd better get up and get back
to my housework or Ellen's going to be really pissed."

"Speaking of the queen cunt, what's she up to?"

"She didn't say," I lied. I was protecting her. Ron was obviously
unaware he wasn't her only source of cock. He may or may not have been the
one to awaken in her a taste for tight dresses and heavy makeup, but I was
ninety-nine percent certain that today wasn't her first solo foray into the
world of bar sex. The only reason she hadn't gotten laid the night before
was because she needed to watch me get it so badly.

"Maybe it'd be a good idea not to mention that I dropped by," he said as
he raised his hips, freeing his limp meat with a soft sound that echoed
inside me.

I felt empty. My ass clutched around nothingness. Well, not quite. I
felt his cum oozing from my still opened hole. "Whatever you say, Ron."
Another rush made me shiver. It was almost time to wrap myself in the red
outfit, paint my face as nastily as I knew how, climb in a cab and go to a
hotel bar. I felt hot all over, and eager for Ron to leave.

Luckily, he was ready to go, too. A thought struck me as he rolled me
over for a farewell kiss to my smeared mouth. "Could you do me a little
favor before you go?" I asked him between tastes of his mouth.

"Sure."

"Help me change shoes. I still can't reach my ankles very well when I'm
in my corset." I smiled inwardly. Would Ellen wonder how I'd managed this
trick? "And, while you're here, maybe you could tighten my laces a little.
They seem to have worked loose somehow," I giggled.

I didn't complain that he overdid the tightening a little, reducing my
waist to closer to twenty inches, swelling what little tits I had even
more. After he strapped the towering red heels to my slim ankles, I reached
up and kissed him goodbye, feeling his prick already stirring against my
tiny belly. The fact that I could do that to a man who'd just cum inside
me a few minutes before made me feel very good. I was a foxy little slut.
Everybody who saw me would want me, and I wanted

to be desired, to be lusted after.

So, the instant I locked the door behind my lover, I cleaned up the cum
staining the carpet, but decided to take a risk and forget about my other
tasks, despite the consequences. I had much more important things to take
care of.

10. Chapter - Changes

My heart was hammering wildly by the time the taxi pulled into the
drive. I'd asked the dispatcher to make sure the driver didn't honk, but
apparently he hadn't gotten the word, because he did anyway, long and loud.
The entire neighborhood was alerted, no doubt peeking out their windows to
see what was going on. Horrified, I debated what to do. The cabbie again
leaned on the horn. Waiting was only going to make it worse. I bolted
from the front door, praying I wouldn't be recognized for what I was.

My prayer was ignored. Nosy Jerome, across the street, was plainly
visible, again drop-jawed. First he'd witnessed Ellen's departure, clad in
her skintight black minidress and wearing ten pounds of makeup. Now, some
strange woman - me, her lighter twin - in just as few clothes

and just as much makeup. The proverbial cat was probably out of the
bag.

I was mildly surprised by how little I cared. Unless relocation was in
Ellen's plans, the neighbors would no doubt see much more of me in the
future. I was absolutely determined that my two week vacation would
stretch out to encompass the rest of my life. I settled into the seat

and crossed my legs.

The driver was watching me in the mirror. I favored him with a bright
smile. He apparently wasn't used to picking up women who looked like
streetwalkers in such a respectable part of the city. I knew exactly what
my clinging, flame red dress, shimmering platinum blonde mane, and

gaudy makeup made me look like.

Being outside the house without Ellen was almost s much fun as fucking
without her at my side. I felt free to do whatever I wanted. I teased the
driver to distraction with my legs and lips, pretending I was ignorant of
what I was doing to him. But, when I leaned forward to ask him for a
cigarette, I saw the tent his erection was making in his pants. I toyed
with the idea of sucking him off rather than paying ******** my fare, but I
didn't find him all that attractive, and I wasn't very horny. Besides, I
was already nearly late and didn't want to risk Ellen's wrath.

As it turned out, it wouldn't have mattered a whole lot. I was slowed
by fear the moment I stepped from the cab. This was a very busy place.
Travelers were leaving and arriving as if this hotel was the airport
itself. My newly discovered confidence was shaken by the hustle and

bustle. I tapped into the bar, feeling scrutinized by thousands of
eyes. It was packed, of course. I scanned the tables and barstools
nervously and found no sign of Ellen. No tables were vacant, although by
the looks I was getting, I could have joined any number of solo males. I
opted for the view a seat at the bar would give me.

I stood out radically in the somberly dressed mob. The dim light didn't
seem to dull my screaming red dress, and I felt like my long silver-blonde
tresses reflected every bit of available light. For the first time since
Ellen had left, I missed her. Had she been there at my side, I'd have
revelled in the attention that saturated me. Instead, I felt vulnerable,
exposed - and scared.

I spent the last of my twenty dollars on a glass of wine. I wouldn't
have had to, of course. There was very little I'd have ever had to buy for
myself, dressed like that in a hotel bar. While that notion thrilled me
more than a little, it did nothing to banish my uneasiness. Where was
Ellen?

I rebuffed three thinly veiled offers of "a drink or something," and my
rejections earned me a little space. Apparently, I wasn't the readily
available bar girl I appeared, they must have reasoned. My self-confidence
began to return. But the fourth voice in my ear startled me when the man
it belonged to called me by name.

"You must be Sheila," came the gutturally accented baritone.

I stared for a long, uncomfortable moment. He was tall and thin, with a
mop of unkempt blondish hair. He slouched and his tie was crooked, making
his suit look too expensive for him.

If I'd been able to maintain the mood Ron left me in, feeling as brazen
as my outfit, I'd have smiled provocatively and come back with something
witty. Instead, I blurted, "Where's Ellen?" acting as

insecure as I felt.

His smile was mysterious. At least I was able to identify his accent as
Germanic. "I am Hans. Ellen is upstairs in a meeting and has asked you to
join us." He performed one of those silly little stiff continental
half-bows and offered me his arm.

Upstairs meant a hotel room. My throat tightened and my clit gave a
little lurch. I stood, nervously smoothed my skirt, and tried to take his
elbow like I'd been doing it all my life. It was a curiously pleasing
sensation to be e*****ed so formally back through the bar and lobby toward
the elevators. My mind was spinning. Meeting? What exactly did that
mean? It was an odd term, applied to Ellen the way she'd acted when she
left me that afternoon. The only business she'd

acted capable of transacting was on her back with her legs flung wide.

I was staggered. Literally. Hans gave me a concerned look as he pushed
the call button. I feigned a reassuring smile. Was that it? Was Ellen
selling her cunt? The conversation in the bar in the mall replayed itself.
The one about her cigarettes. What if, she'd said, she'd been dressing and
making herself up like that and "going out" for six months - about the time
she and Ron had hatched their plot. I'd assumed then that she'd been
trying to hurt me. While I'd sucked Ron's

dick, I'd imagined that there'd been some truth to her hypothetical
statement, that he'd uncovered in her a desire to look and act like a
tramp. But I hadn't imagined she'd actually whore herself. Surely, I'd
have known. Ruefully, I admitted that I hadn't known anything about my
wife until a week ago.

The dinging arrival of the elevator jolted me from my reverie. In the
close confines of the metal box, my e***** smelled of liquor and tobacco. A
quick craving for a cigarette grabbed me.

Speaking took effort. "Excuse me, Hans. May I have a cigarette?"

They were imported. He made no comment about the no smoking sign as he
lit it for me. The lighter was an ornate gold thing that matched the case
in which he kept his tobacco. It was harsh and oddly satisfying. My
lipstick was almost invisible against the dark brown paper.

I kept my voice going. "Uh, what kind of 'meeting' is this?"

He nodded, frowning slightly, as if confirming something. "As I
thought, she hasn't discussed this with you. Your friend has been in
contact with myself and several of my colleagues for a number of months."
His voice registered deep disapproval.

Ellen had introduced herself as my friend? To discuss what? Instead of
asking those questions, I quickly reassured him. "She and I are very
close. I'm sure she meant this as a surprise."

His expression softened. "In that case, perhaps I have said too much?"

I squeezed his bicep, gave him a soft smile. "It'll be our secret."

His thin lips curved upwards and his eyes more or less politely measured
by body. "As you wish. I must say, you seem quite well adjusted."

I felt myself pale. He knew about the secret between my legs. I was
confused. Should I feel betrayed or flattered? I took smoke very
carefully to cover my embarrassment. The elevator door opened at the top
floor. Again I accepted his arm. The far wall of the hall was mirrored. I
saw an extremely sexy little blonde woman, clad in fuck-me red, on the arm
of a tall thin man. She was gorgeous, in a brazen way, but her visible
discomfort was spoiling her desirability.
Angry at myself, I hugged my e*****'s arm more tightly, deliberately
pressed my thigh to his as we walked down the hall. He squeezed my arm and
smiled. He knew, but he didn't mind being close to me. Was he the
"special friend" I was to meet? Was I being nice enough to him? And,

above all, was he going to fuck me? If Ellen was whoring herself, was
she going to sell my holes to this man and his "colleagues?" My belly
hollowed, not entirely with fear.

I was anticipating a sordid scene as Hans turned to face a door and
swung it open. My throat was tight. Would the room be filled with men?
Maybe I'd see Ellen on her hands and knees, sucking one cock while being
fucked by another, or ...

What I was presented with was even more shocking. Ellen sat at the head
of a table with three men. They were examining papers, not her pussy. Her
makeup and hair weren't mussed. I felt a shameful stab of disappointment.
She glanced up from what she was reading, and the room fell silent as all
eyes focused on me.

They weren't the kind of looks I was growing accustomed to. They were
cold, clinical, examining me more like a side of beef than a target of
lust. I felt like a fool. Ellen had set me up, led me to believe that I
was coming here to get laid - and I'd eagerly leapt at the chance to

open my orifices to whoever wanted them.

A blast of raw sanity ripped through me. I saw myself as I was, for the
first time in days. I wasn't a woman. I was a married male with a dark,
newly revealed, twisted taste for cock. I was a sham, a parody, a pathetic
joke. My sickness had filled me. I'd given myself over to it. I'd
embraced my depravity, wanting to believe I'd had no choice. I'd lied to
myself all the way along. If I'd really wanted to, I could have resisted
Ellen's dominance and torture. I'd had more

opportunities than I could count to stubbornly say no, to insist that
this charade end. I hadn't, purely because I'd craved every last moment of
what had happened to me. I'd needed the excuses her coercion provided.

All this in one of those wordless insights that take up such a paltry
amount of clock time, yet change everything. Ellen was just beginning to
part her lips and introduce me. Her associates, or whatever they were, had
yet to complete their scan of me. In that mere instant, I'd shed my slutty
horniness and was wallowing in full-blown despair.

A strange numbness kept the scene at a distance. It was like I was
floating somewhere near the ceiling, emotionlessly observing what was going
on below as if it was happening to someone else. I mechanically took the
chair Hans held for me. I saw my legs cross, felt the casual smile on my
lips. Shouldn't I be crying, I remember wondering, almost idly? I sensed
that this was probably one of the most critical moments of my life and was
astonished by the feeling of peace enveloping me.

They were all European physicians specializing in various aspects of
gender re-assignment. Ellen had sought them out months before. They were
there to assess me. If I passed their examinations, I was to become a
woman.

In my altered state of consciousness, I felt no qualms, no hesitation. I
basked in the glow of Ellen's proud smile. Yes, I quietly insisted, this
is what I wanted, with all my heart. No, there was no chance I'd regret
such a momentous decision. I was committed. No, I didn't need

the traditional year of living in female guise to be sure. I was ready,
right then.

The interview took three gruelling hours. Two of the doctors had mild
reservations, but I swayed the other two, Hans and a younger Frenchman man
named Jordan. I didn't, of course, leap on an airplane and fly to Denmark
to have my cock made into a cunt, although nothing would have made me
happier. There were arrangements to be made - and finances to be arranged.
It was agreed, though, that I'd receive breast implants in the near future.

Ellen invited them to stay for drinks. Jordan and Hans accepted, and
Ellen called room service while I stepped into the suite's bedroom to
freshen up. As I touched up my face, I began to exit the trance-like state
I'd been wrapped in, and the reality of my choice took hold. It wasn't
fear that emerged, but excitement. A shiver rippled through me as I stared
at the pale flesh of my cleavage and the twin swells below. In ten days,
my corset would embrace living flesh, not molded latex. I could flaunt
them with even deeper necklines. Men could suck them, pinch them, slide
their pricks between them.

My sharp, curved nails worked my false nipples and my real ones
stiffened in sympathy. The thrill settled in, became heat. When the door
opened and Ellen slid through, I was still standing before the mirror,
seeing myself as I was to become. In my mind, I was already a woman, not a
cross-dressed fag slut.

She walked up behind me, encircled my waist with her arms, and hugged
me. I settled against her with a sigh, nestled my head in the cup of her
shoulder, feeling the softness of her tit against my neck.

"You liked my little surprise?" she whispered.

I nodded, nuzzling her tit.

"Would you like to thank Jordan and Hans for their kindness?"

My belly hollowed. "Do you think they'd like that?"

"That's why they stayed, darling."

"To fuck me?"

"To fuck both of us."

She was right. For the first time, I experienced the delirious pleasure
of giving a blow job while having my ass filled, and watching Ellen receive
identical treatment. The only thing about the following hours I didn't
enjoy was being stripped of my corset, having my distinctly masculine body
made love to by Jordan. I hid behind my long silver hair, stared at my
lovely hands while he fucked my ass, cursing hoarsely in French.

They left us around three a.m. I fell asleep in the hotel room bed,
curled in Ellen's arms, after lapping every bit of cum I could reach from
her pussy and ass and mouth. I was more content than I knew I could be.
Three man had enjoyed my body that day. All of them had known everything
there was to know about me, and lusted after me anyway. As I sank into
sleep, I dimly realized that for the first time I was completely unashamed
of what I was.

I awoke disoriented. It took a few seconds to realize where I was. The
bed beside me was empty, but the faint sound of the shower emanating from
the bathroom told me where Ellen was. I stretched, relishing the faint
soreness of my ass. I'd been penetrated there four times, had wildly
humped the men riding me, and felt almost no distracting discomfort. I
fingered myself. My hole was loose and moist. I was ready for more. I
rolled to my feet and padded in to join Ellen in the shower. There wasn't
a cock in the room, so I settled for a pussy, backing my companion into a
corner of the stall, eating her until her knees went weak and she tried to
pull my entire

head into her slit.

I felt so beautiful as I dressed and made myself up that I was almost in
tears. I wanted everyone to know. I wanted to be stared at, desired,
seduced. Ellen's mood was much more reserved, but I barely noticed. I
felt free, in an all new way. I was ecstatically aware, as we made our way
back to the car, of the wide sway of my ass and the bounce of my tits. I
was totally at ease with the way my every move was watched, and easily met
the eyes of those staring at me.

I didn't catch Ellen's anger until we were well on our way home, and
even then she had to slap me with it.

"You're nothing but a fucking tramp," she spat with venom after I'd
favored another driver with a wide red smile.

I was shocked by the depth of her rage. I studied the floorboard. "I'm
sorry. I just feel -"

"Nothing to be sorry about, bitch. You are what you are. Actually, I'm
pleased. It'll make what we have to do a lot easier if I don't have to
force you." She didn't sound pleased.

I drew on my cigarette, nervously rubbed at the lipstick on the filter.
"What do we have to do?" I asked very quietly.

Her laugh was a harsh bark. "We have to make a lot of money for your
surgery."

I stared blankly at her for a moment, then looked out the window. I
didn't want her to see my smile. There weren't many ways to raise the
three thousand dollars we needed in ten days. I was going to be a very
busy girl for a while. The only question in my mind was if she was going
to whore herself on bar stools beside me. I hoped so. I really liked
sharing with her.

End

-

Nostrumo

e-mail: nostrumo@nienor.in-berlin.













Subject: REPOST: ASV01 Sibling Rivalry

From: an293603@anon.penet.fi

Date: 1996/08/15

Now that the Communications Decency Act (CDA) is gone, and the world is
safe

for erotic literature, I present Alicia's Summer Vacation.

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction for adults only. It is the story
of a young boy's humiliation at the hands of his sister (and mostly
everyone else in the story). It involves bondage, nonconsensual sex acts,
forced feminization, v******e, and so much more. If these topics don't
turn you on, please do not read any further. It is not my intention to
offend anyone; this story is presented solely for your entertainment. It
may arouse you, and it may amuse you. I hope it never bores you. Enjoy!





ALICIA'S SUMMER VACATION

by Diabolical

CHAPTER 1: SIBLING RIVALRY

Kathy twisted my arm behind me. "I've taken all the crap I'm going to
from you!" she shouted.

"Let me go," I yelled.

But she wrenched my arm again, and forced me to my knees as the pain
shot through my shoulder. She was two years older than me, four inches
taller, and a lot meaner. I never had a chance against her.

"You're going to apologize, little brother, or I'll give you the beating
of your life!" As I knelt in front of her, she grabbed a fistful of my
shoulder-length hair, twisted it around, and jerked my head back. "Maybe I
should cut off all this pretty hair of yours."

"All right, you win," I cried, "I'm sorry. Just leave my hair alone!"

She shoved me face down on the living room carpet and stood over me. I
massaged my aching shoulder, and as I turned to look up at her, she
snarled, "Next time you won't get off this easy."

"I didn't-" I started to say, and she kicked me in the stomach. The
dull pain in my gut made my eyes water. "Oooh," I gasped and lay doubled
over on the floor.

"What the hell is going on here?" I heard our older brother yell.

"Ron, Al's been acting like a jerk again. I don't know what to do with
him."

"It figures," Ron said. "It's always the same problem. But I've got a
real easy solution this time. Al, from now on, you do whatever Kathy tells
you. Understand me?"

By now, I was up on my knees, still holding my stomach. "All I said was
she was having a bad hair day! And she can't tell me what to do, and
neither can you," I gasped. "You're only my brother."

"I'm also your legal guardian, since Mom and Dad passed away. If you
don't listen to me, maybe I'll have my girlfriend come over and teach you
some manners." He grabbed my collar and pulled me up on my tiptoes. "Did I
make myself clear?"

"Yeah," I grumbled, and he let me go. The last thing I needed was to
see that vulture Sandra; she gave me the creeps. And she wore these
leather outfits that make her look even creepier. By now I had gotten my
wind back. "I'm going up to my room," I said to him, ignoring Kathy.

Up in my room, I lay on the bed holding my tender stomach. Life wasn't
fair. Ron and Kathy took after Dad; Ron was big and barrel-chested, and
even Kathy was much stronger than me. I took after Mom's side of the
family. I was slight of build, and my face had soft features. Worst of
all, my brother and sister were always against me.

Everyone always liked Kathy because she was pretty; when she wore makeup
she could look like an adult. I was almost 13, and Ron was only 22, but
now I had to take orders from him. This never would have happened if Mom
and Dad hadn't died in that plane crash, right after we moved to Los
Angeles. All my friends were back in Santa Cruz, and now my sister was
pushing me around again.

Our parents had left us plenty of money, and our lawyer said the new
house was all paid for, but Ron would have to be in charge of the Peterson
household, that is, Kathy and me. Summer had just started, I didn't have
any friends here, and I was fighting with my sister already. While I
wallowed in self-pity my sister paid me a visit, carrying a shopping bag.

"Get up," she ordered me.

"Go away," I answered. The next thing I knew, she dragged me to my feet
and twisted my arm behind me again. She pulled my shirt up over my face,
and then ripped it off.

"What do you think you're doing?" I shouted.

"You're supposed to do what I tell you," she said, twisting my head
around so I was nose to nose with her. "I guess you haven't learned that
yet. But you will."

She threw me face down on the carpet, sat on me, and reached into her
shopping bag.

"Kathy, get off me! I don't want to play like this," I whined.

"We aren't playing any more, little brother. I got this just for you,"
she said, peeling off a strip of duct tape.

"What are you doing?" I shouted. This was getting serious.

She pulled my wrists together behind me, and I felt her slap the tape
against my right wrist.

"Kathy, stop it!" I pleaded, with panic in my voice. I struggled to
free myself, but she held me securely as she wrapped layer after layer of
tape around my wrists. "This isn't funny any more!"

"It won't be funny for you, but I'm going to enjoy it," she said. She
pulled me to my feet, and spun me around to face her.

"You let me go right now!" I demanded.

She slapped me across the face so hard that my cheek stung, and tears
came to my eyes. She grabbed the hair on the back of my head, and pulled
my face to within inches of hers. As I fought back the tears, she looked
me in the eye, and snarled, "Are you telling me what to do, little
brother?"

"N-n-no," I stammered. "Please let me go."

"First I'm going to take your clothes off, and then I'm going to give
you a beating. Then if you're good I'll let you go. Is that all right
with you?"

"Kathy, please-"

She slapped the other cheek, this time with the back of her hand. My
head snapped back, and I lost my balance, falling against the side of the
bed. As I lay slumped there, my ears were still ringing, and I felt tears
trickling down my cheeks. Finally my head cleared, and I looked up to see
my sister standing over me.

She kicked me in the side and sneered at me. "Are you ready for your
beating now?"

I was too scared to say anything, so I just looked down and nodded my
head.

She kicked me again, only harder. "I can't hear you," she said. "Get
on your knees and beg me to give you a proper beating!"

I struggled for balance with my hands bound, and lurched forward to my
knees. This was so humiliating; now I had to beg my sister to beat me.
But as I crawled forward, the door swung ajar, and I saw my brother.

"Kathy, you've done enough to him for today. Leave him alone now."

"But Ron, you know he deserves it!" she pleaded.

But Ron just pointed to the door, and Kathy stomped out.

"Thanks, Ron," I gasped. "Please untie me. It hurts where she kicked
me."

He picked me up, and laid me on the bed. "Just rest like this now, so
you won't get in any more trouble. I'll come back and untie you tonight."

I started to protest, but he walked out anyway. And so I had to spend
the whole evening tied up on my bed.

The next day I was out in front of the house when another boy walked
into our yard. "Is Kathy home?" he asked.

"Who wants to know?" I asked.

He came up to me, and while he looked me over, I sized him up. He was
bigger than me, muscular, and probably a couple of years older. Suddenly,
he grabbed me by the collar of my knit shirt, and nearly lifted me off the
ground. "I'm her new boyfriend. She told me she had a bratty little
brother with long hair like a girl. Is that you?"

I didn't agree entirely with the description, but this wasn't the time
to take issue with him. I nodded my head. "I'm...I'm her brother," I
stammered.

He pulled me close to him. "Then why don't you be a good **********,
and tell your big sister I'm here?" He shoved me away, sending me sprawling
onto the grass.

But before I could get up, Kathy had come outside. She wore a white
halter top that barely covered her breasts, and a pair of blue jeans that
must have been painted on her. Her long brown hair was pulled straight
back and then hung down over her shoulders. She had just seen this punk
push me around. But as I watched, they embraced, and she gave him a French
kiss. "I see you've met my brother," she said.

"Yeah," he said. "Does he always act like a jerk?"

"Always," she said, giving me a dirty look. "Like I said, you have to
smack him around just to get his attention."

"Never mind him," he said. "You look gorgeous today, so let's get out
of here."

It figured she was on his side. I backed away, and they left together.
So I wandered out to the street and down the block. Then I saw a young
girl sitting out in front of the house next door. She had dark brown hair
like me, but even longer, and cut in straight bangs across her forehead.
Best of all, a small pair of breasts lifted her red sweater. Maybe living
here wouldn't

be so bad after all. I introduced myself, and found out her name was
Arcadia. She was a year older than me.

"So we're neighbors now," she said. "I've already met your sister. But
she didn't mention that she had a little brother."

In a way that was good. At least Kathy hadn't poisoned her against me.
"We don't hang around much together. She's always had her own friends."

She smiled at me and said, "That's all right. I'm sure we'll all be
friends."

That evening, Kathy brought her thug-boyfriend home with her, and she
dragged me down to the basement playroom to give me a proper introduction
to him. His name was Craig, and when he wasn't feeling up my sister, his
idea of a good time was to try out wrestling moves on me. He shoved me
around, grabbed me, and slammed me down on the tile floor time after time.

"I've had enough of this," I said, getting to my feet for the um*****th
time.

"You're not going anywhere, sweetie," Kathy said. "Ron said you had to
do whatever I told you. And I'm telling you to get back down on the
floor."

"He didn't mean you could have this goon beat me up!" I yelled.

In a second, Craig was right in my face. "Who are you calling a goon,
pretty boy?" he said, shoving my chest.

I stumbled backward and looked to my sister for help. "Kathy, make him
leave me alone!"

"Oh, but I thought boys liked roughhousing like this," she said sweetly.

Craig threw me face down on the floor, twisted my arm behind my back,
and mashed my nose against the tiles. "Maybe he isn't a real boy," he
said.

"Get off me!" I shouted. "Kathy, get him out of here!"

"Ron said I could make you do whatever I want, and I think it's time we
took advantage of it." She held up a roll of duct tape, and pulled an
arm's-length of it out. "Craig, put his wrists together behind his back."

"Kathy, stop! This isn't fair!" I pleaded, as Craig pulled my arms
together.

Kathy wrapped the tape around my wrists several times, and Craig let me
go. He pulled me up to my knees and left me kneeling in front of them. I
strained and shook so hard that my hair got in my eyes. But the tape held
fast. I could barely see the two of them exchange glances and grin.

"Still think you can get out of that, little sissy?" Kathy asked.

"If you don't let me go, I'll scream!"

"I think he needs to be gagged," Craig said.

I leaned back from them. "You better not put that tape over my mouth,"
I warned.

"Oh, we won't use that to gag you," she said, brushing my hair over my
eyes so I could hardly see anything.

A moment later Craig sat next to me, and I could finally see that he had
unzipped his pants, and his cock was sticking straight out at me. "We're
going to gag you with this!" he said.

I recoiled in horror, tears filling my eyes. This couldn't happen to
me, not in my own house. "No, please," I begged.

My sister took a handful of hair, and guided my head toward Craig's
bright red cock. "Since you don't like to fight like a boy, maybe you're
interested in more girlish activities. Like sucking cock."

"Yeah," Craig snarled, "you're gonna suck my cock until I come all over
your face!"

Subject: REPOST: ASV02 The family That Flays Together Stays Together

From: an293603@anon.penet.fi

Date: 1996/08/15

CHAPTER 2: THE family THAT FLAYS TOGETHER STAYS TOGETHER

"No!" I shouted. "I won't suck his cock. I'll do anything but that!"

Kathy pulled my head back, and asked, "Anything?"

I nodded my head vigorously. "Anything but that!"

"Will you try on my dresses and pose for some pictures?"

"But...but you never want me near your stuff. Why do you want me to
wear your clothes?"

"Because I think you'd look adorable in a dress. Now will you do it or
not?" Then she turned my head back to face Craig's cock.

"I'll do it!" I blurted out.

"Then as a sign of good faith, kiss it." She shoved me forward so my
face was flush against his erect cock. At least kissing it wouldn't be as
bad as putting it in my mouth. I closed my eyes, kissed it, and leaned
away.

"Hey, I was looking forward to a blow job! Is that all I get?" Craig
asked Kathy.

"For now," she said, and turned to face me, "Unless the little sissy
misbehaves when I take the pictures."

Kathy ordered me to kneel until they returned, and they left together.
Alone, I was on my knees with my hands bound and had to wait for my sister
and her boyfriend to humiliate me. What had I ever done to deserve this?
All I could do was feel sorry for myself until they came back with a half
dozen dresses.

Kathy unwrapped my wrists and told me, "Strip! You've got sixty
seconds. If I see you wearing anything besides your birthday suit, you'll
be gagging on male meat."

I practically ripped my clothes off, and in forty-five seconds I stood
before them naked, my hands covering my penis.

"Don't be modest, sweetie," Kathy said, raising her camera. "Put your
hands up over your head now!"

I frowned and looked down at my member. Reluctantly I put my hands up,
and when I looked back at Kathy, I saw the flashbulb go off.

"Now put your hand on your hip like a good little fag," she said. "And
then your other hand up on your shoulder to toss your hair. And pout for
me. Come on, let's see those lips. I want to see a nice pouty look on
your face."

She finally got the sexy look she wanted, and the flashbulb went off
again.

"Now cross your ankles, and point your feet outward like a pretty little
ballerina," she commanded me. And when I did, she took a couple more
photos of me.

"Are we having fun yet, little brother?"

I shook my head. "Kathy, can I put some clothes on now?" I begged.

"Sure you can, sweetie," she cooed. "So that's why you look so unhappy.
You don't like being naked, do you?"

I shook my head again, fighting back the tears, and Craig kept
snickering at me.

"I've got just the thing for you," she said, holding up a training bra.

"No...I didn't mean that-"

"Oh, don't worry, I'll help you put it on," she said, spinning me
around. A moment later she had me in the bra, and ordered me, "Now fondle
your new breasts!"

I had no choice, and fondled myself as the flashbulb went off again.

"Let's get the ****** into the rest of his clothes," Craig said. "He'll
look cute in that little red number of yours."

The next thing I knew, I was climbing into a pair of stockings and a
garter belt, and my sister zipped me into a red tafetta dress. My legs
were encased in nylon, and the dress rustled whenever I moved.

"Now lift up your dress and pretend to adjust your garter," she said.
And the camera flash went off again.

"Good, now cross your wrists at your waist, and put your hands together
palm to palm like a good little sissy," she ordered me.

As I did do, she snapped another picture. And the ordeal went on. For
the next half hour, she must have taken twenty Polaroids of me, some naked,
but most in her outfits. She kept telling me to smile for the camera, and
Craig kept taunting me. Most ominous of all, his cock was about to burst
his pants the whole time.

Finally she stripped me again, and left me sitting me on the floor. "I
can hardly wait to show these to Ron! And wait until Sandra gets to see
them."

"Who's Sandra?" Craig asked.

"She's my big brother's girlfriend. She is one hot blonde, always
wearing these leather and rubber outfits. I'm sure she'll have some good
ideas about dressing up the little sissy."

Just what I needed. My brother's bitchy girlfriend getting her hands on
me. This was going too far. "I'm not a sissy!" I shouted at her.

"Oh, no? Well if you're such a stud, I'd like to see you jerk off right
now."

My mouth dropped open. I couldn't believe it. "Here? Right now? In
front of both of you?"

"And on camera, sweetie. I've got a few pictures left. Or would you
rather listen to that tafetta dress rustling as we walk around the block a
couple of times?"

I hesitated for a moment. I couldn't go out in that red dress. Then
she added, "And after we show you off around the neighborhood, then you can
get Craig off!"

"Now that's more like it," the big oaf said, leering at me.

There was no way out. I grabbed my cock and started stroking it. I was
so embarrassed I couldn't even look at them as I got it hard, and finally
some cum spurted out onto the floor as the camera flash went off.

"Can I go now?" I mumbled as I looked down. "Are you through with me?"

"Almost," she said. "But you've made a mess in here. My dear little
brother, I'd really appreciate it if you cleaned the floor."

"All right," I said, starting to get up.

But she pushed me back down to my knees. "No, stay down there," she
said, smiling at me. "Use your tongue."

I stared in horror at the line of white goo on the carpet.

"Do you want some fresh cum instead?" Craig snarled at me.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I bent forward to lick it up.

"Look, he's going to cry," Craig taunted me. "The little ****** is
going to cry."

I couldn't help but cry. As I lapped up the salty goo, Kathy took
another picture, and then one more of me on my knees with tears streaming
down my face.

"Now put on my white lace dress, and go to your room for the rest of the
day," she ordered me. She waved the last photo in my face. "You're going
to be a good little sissy from now on, unless you want me to start showing
everyone our new family album."

I put on the dress and hurried up to my room, my face in my hands. Now
my sister could blackmail me with those pictures.

* * * * *

The next day, Arcadia came over to see Kathy, but I met her in the
backyard. I hoped if I

intercepted her first, I could keep Kathy from telling her what happened
yesterday.

"Would you like to go to the park with me?" I asked. "We can get some
ice cream."

"Well, I came over to see Kathy. She had a fight with Craig over the
phone this morning,

and I wanted to talk with her. I guess it can wait."

That was interesting. Kathy had a fight with Craig? Maybe if they were
fighting with

each other, they'd leave me alone. We turned to go, but then I saw
Craig open our gate.

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

"I came to see your big sister, brat," he said, walking up the driveway
toward me.

"I doubt she wants to see you, though," I said, hoping I'd find out
what's going on.

"Maybe you're right," he said. "Arcadia, would you like to go out with
me?"

"We were just on our way out," I said.

"I asked the girl, not you," he snapped.

"Oh, I don't know..." she said.

"Arcadia, tell him to get lost. He broke up with my sister, and now he
just wants to use

you."

"Shut up, you little bastard!" he shouted, and grabbed me by the shirt.

"I know!" Arcadia said, smiling. "Why don't you boys settle this among
yourselves?

Meanwhile I'll go talk to Kathy."

She started off, and Craig shoved me backwards, sending me stumbling
against the

house.

"Hurry back!" he shouted to her. "This won't take long!"

I got up and tried to run, but he tackled me, and threw me down in the
grass. He sat on

my chest, making me gasp for air.

"Let's make Arcadia's decision a real easy one," he said, and punched me
in the face. I

screamed, but he had me pinned to the ground, and hit me on the side of
the face over and over.

I was dazed and helpless when he pulled me to my feet, and threw me face
first against the

concrete garage.

I don't even remember hitting the ground. I woke up out on the grass in
late afternoon

with a headache, a split lip, and a lump on my forehead. I staggered
inside to find Kathy

showing Ron the pictures of me in her dresses (or not in them, in some
cases.)

"I want him to dress up like a girl from now on," she said. "Look at
the T-shirt and jeans

he's wearing. We're new in this neighborhood, and no one here knows
he's supposed to be a

boy."

"You can't do that to me," I shouted, and my head hurt even more.

"I don't think so," Ron said. "We'd have to buy a whole new wardrobe
for him."

I breathed a sigh of relief. At least my big brother wasn't going to
let her make me into a

girl.

"No we won't," Kathy said. "He can wear my stuff. I've got a lot of
clothes I've just about

outgrown, and they'll fit him perfect now."

That's my sister. She can be so accommodating when she wants to.

"Besides, Mom bought me some really frilly dresses that I never wore.
They're just too

feminine-looking for me. But I think the sissy will look good in them."

"All right, " Ron said. "We'll try it for a little while. But start
with just the underwear, so

he can get used to it."

"Ron, no!" I screamed. "I won't do it!"

"You'll do what we tell you to," he shouted, and then he grabbed me by
the arm, and

pulled me to him. "Kathy, get me the roll of duct tape in the drawer."

Don't we ever run out of duct tape? I struggled, but he twisted my arm
behind me, and

threw me on the kitchen floor. He held me face down on the floor as
Kathy taped my wrists

together.

"Sandra's coming over any minute, and I'm sure she'll be delighted to
get reacquainted

with you," he said.

Oh, no. Sandra always hated me. "Ron, please let me go," I whined.
"Craig already

beat me up today."

But he just tousled my hair, and it got in my eyes. "You can't get
along with anyone, can

you? Now be a good little sissy," he said, "and stay right there."

"Ron, will you please untie-" I started, but then Kathy jumped on my
back, knocking the

wind out of me.

"I can hardly wait till Sandra gets here," Kathy said.

Me neither, I thought, gasping for air.

Soon the doorbell rang, and a minute later Ron and Sandra were standing
over me, with

Kathy perched on my back.

"I'd get up," Kathy told them, "but I feel so comfortable here."

Sandra was a tall blonde whose large breasts my brother worshipped. But
like many

beautiful women, she was a bitch. She fixed me with a cold stare, and I
knew I was in trouble.

She was wearing a black leather outfit, with high-heeled boots, and she
carried an oversized

gym bag. Sandra flipped through those awful Polaroid photos, and her
expression didn't even

change. You'd think she saw pictures like that every day.

"It's time you learned some discipline," she said, taking a white corset
out of her bag.

"Kathy, strip the little sissy."

"All right!" she said, and started pulling my clothes off. Soon she had
me stripped from

the waist down, and said, "I can't get this shirt over his wrists."

Sandra handed her a knife and said, "Cut it off. He won't need those
boy clothes any

more, will he?"

Kathy grinned from ear to ear, but all I could see was the light
glinting off the knife blade

as I looked up at her. In moments, she had me on my back naked, with my
wrists taped behind

me.

"Now let's see how that corset looks on you," Sandra said.

Kathy stood me up, and Sandra laced the corset around me tighter and
tighter until I

thought it was going to smother me. In a few moments I stood clad in
panties, stockings, and a

training bra my sister generously donated.

Sandra stood over me, and lifted my chin. "Now, are you ready for your
spanking?" she

asked.

"No! You can't spank me!" I said, and backed away to the far wall of
the kitchen.

"Come on, sweetie," she said, beckoning to me, "What are you doing all
the way over

there?"

"Leave me alone," I begged. "Ron, don't let her hit me!"

Sandra took a leather paddle from her bag and snarled, "Come over here
now and get

your spanking. Unless you'd like a good beating."

But my feet were anchored to the floor, and my back to the wall. I
wasn't going to budge.

Sandra moved in on me, and all I could do was slide along the wall into
the corner. Then, half-naked and trapped in the corner with my hands bound
behind me, I could only stare

up at the leather-clad woman brandishing a paddle.

"Shame on you for making me chase after you," she said. "Now you're
going to learn a

lesson." She grabbed a handful of hair, and dragged me over to the
table. She sat down, and

threw me over her knee. "Pay attention, Kathy. I'm going to show you
how to discipline your

little brother."

"Let me go-" I screamed. "You can't-"

The paddle landed, stinging my bottom.

"Ow, stop it!" I shouted.

She hit me twice more, once on each cheek, and both were burning.

"You're hurting me," I whined.

"Oh, you're hurting me," Kathy taunted me. "Can I hit him now, Sandra?"

But Sandra rubbed my sore butt with her palm. "Does that feel better,
sweetie?"

"No!" I shouted. "Let me go!"

"Oh, you've got a lot more coming," she said, and I felt the smooth
leather of the paddle

gently sliding back and forth across my butt. She lifted the paddle,
and I felt cool air against my

bottom for a moment. Then I felt another stinging blow.

Tears came to my eyes as she hit me another dozen times. My poor butt
was on fire,

and no matter how much I squirmed, she just kept hitting me. I tried
not to cry, but finally I was

sobbing, warm tears rolling down my cheeks.

"Kathy, look at how nice and red his ass is," Sandra said
matter-of-factly. "That's what

you want to do. You can give him a good beating without leaving any
welts or scars. This way

you don't mark him up, but the little bastard won't want to sit down for
a couple of days. Would

you like to try it?"

Kathy grabbed the paddle from her, pulled my hair back from my face, and
looked me

straight in the eye. "You're going to get it now," she said, sneering
at me.

"No," I begged. "Please, I've had enough."

"Can we shut him up?" Kathy asked Sandra. "I don't want to listen to
his whining.

Ron handed Kathy the roll of duct tape.

"No, don't tape his mouth," Sandra said, "He needs a proper gag."

Oh, God forbid I should be improperly gagged when they beat me.
Helpless, I watched

as Sandra rummaged through her bag, and pulled out what looked like a
rubber cock with a strap

attached to it.

"This is a penis gag," she announced. "It'll keep the little darling
quiet, and get him used

to having a cock in his mouth." She pressed the tip of the gag against
my mouth.

I clenched my teeth and shook my head. A moment later my bottom got
stung. Then

another whack. And another. I bucked and squirmed, but Sandra held me
down. My sister was

swinging the paddle with both hands. I opened my mouth to scream and
Sandra shoved the

penis gag in. She strapped it around my head, and tied it in place.
"Now teach him to be more

cooperative," she told Kathy.

Kathy warmed to the task of warming my butt. She hit me over and over
as I sobbed into

the gag and kicked my legs. My whole body glistened with sweat, my butt
was on fire, and I

squealed in agony, waiting for the next blow to fall. Finally she
stopped.

"Whew, I'm tired," Kathy said, "I never knew beating him up could be so
much work."

"Kathy, you need to work on your stamina," Ron said. "I'll bet Sandra
could do a

lot better."

"Noooo," I moaned into my gag.

But Sandra didn't hit me. She spent the next two hours teaching the
others how to tie me

up. She explained the proper use of handcuffs, spreader bars, arm
binders, and all the other

bondage stuff she brought along.

Finally, Ron and Sandra left me with Kathy, and I spent the whole day
bound, gagged,

and helpless, while she took more pictures of me. Finally Kathy took
the gag out, made me

kneel, and held a bunch of g****s over my head.

"So how do you like having a cock in your mouth, little crybaby?" she
asked.

I didn't say anything, but just opened and closed my jaw to get the
feeling back in it.

"Hungry, sweetie? You haven't had a thing to eat all day."

My jaw ached from the gag, and I tried to reach the g****s, but I
couldn't reach them.

Finally I gave up. Maybe they were sour anyway.

But then Kathy threw them on the floor in front of me. "Eat up, sissy!
Now!"

I was so hungry I gobbled the g****s as fast as I could. Then she
blindfolded me, and

left me alone on the floor. All I could do was lie on the floor in the
dark with that damn corset

choking me.

I had lost all track of time, when my blindfold was pulled off. Kathy
threw a red sweater

and a pair of red jeans in my face.

"Sandra gave the name of a beauty salon in a shopping center a few
blocks from here.

You're going to have your hair done."

"Kathy, please let me go," I begged. "I don't want to have my hair
done. I've had a long

day. I don't even want to go out."

"I didn't ask you what you want. I've made the appointment, and I'm
taking you there

now. Is that clear?"

I just nodded my head. At least she'd untie me, and I could stretch my
muscles. Half an

hour later, we showed up at the salon, but the sign on the door said,
"Closed." I was saved!

"Too bad," I said, "they're closed."

But then a young blonde woman came to the door and opened it for us.
"I'm Jennifer.

You must be Kathy and the little sissy," she said. "Sandra told me to
expect you."

"But I thought you were closed," I said, pointing at the sign. "The
sign said closed."

"I work on special customers like you by appointment only," Jennifer
said. "That way you

can feel more comfortable when I make you look pretty."

I made a face. I was wearing girl's underwear, and now I had to have my
hair done like a

girl.

"That's very considerate of Jennifer, isn't it, sissy?" Kathy said, as
Jennifer led me inside.

"How should we do his hair?" Jennifer asked my sister. Apparently my
opinion didn't

matter.

"We could have you wear your hair in straight bangs, like Arcadia,"
Kathy suggested to me.

Before I could answer, Jennifer said, "Bangs can be cute, but they're
too masculine.

Lots of boys have bangs. We don't want anyone to confuse this little
sissy with a boy."

I winced. She thinks I'd look too masculine with bangs? Jennifer was
even worse than

my sister.

"Anything you say," Kathy said. "Just make him look beautiful."

"I know! We'll part his hair in the middle just like yours, Kathy, only
I'll put long soft curls

in it," Jennifer said.

And she dragged me off to shampoo my hair. I could hardly move in the
corset, and

Jennifer practically had to shove me into a reclining chair. I lay
there with me head in a sink as I

tried to arch my back to keep my aching butt off the chair.

Half an hour later, she had styled my hair, set it in rollers, and had
me sitting under a

hair dryer. I squirmed because my butt hurt so much, but that only made
it worse.

"Jennifer, my little brother isn't the first boy to have his hair styled
here, is he?"

"No, of course not. But most of the boys don't have their hair done in
curls like this."

"Are any of the other boys cute?" Kathy asked.

Just like my sister, I thought, trying to find boys at my expense.

"Some are really cute, but almost all of them are gay."

"Well, that doesn't help me any, but maybe this little sissy would like
to meet some of

them," Kathy said.

"What are you trying to-" I started.

"Sure, I can arrange that," Jennifer interrupted me. "Would you like to
meet a fag?"

I was shocked. Speechless. How could they even think that?

"I think that's a great idea," Kathy said. "Wouldn't you like to meet a
boy a little older

than you? Someone more experienced, who can teach you how to be a fag?"

"No! Kathy, don't make me do this!" I said, my eyes filling with tears.


"Someone who'll bend you over a chair and make you like it?" she said,
leering at me.

I bowed my head as tears rolled down my cheeks.

"Oh, don't cry, sweetie, I'll find you a real nice boy, I promise,"
Jennifer said. "I doubt

he'll be as sissified as you, but I'm sure lots of my customers would
like to meet you."

Kathy giggled. "And we can keep trying until we find the right one."

"No, please don't make me meet any boys," I sobbed.

"Tell you what, little sissy. As long as you're a perfect ************
girl at home, I won't

have Jennifer introduce you to any of her friends. But if you step out
of line just once, you're

going to be a party girl."

"I'll do anything you want around the house! I'll wear anything you
want, I promise!"

"If the little ****** changes his mind, just let me know," Jennifer
said. "He's a cutie, and I

know lots of boys who'd love to get their hands on him."

Subject: REPOST: ASV03 Bathing Beauty

From: an293603@anon.penet.fi

Date: 1996/08/15

ALICIA'S SUMMER VACATION

by Diabolical

CHAPTER 3: BATHING BEAUTY

The next day I slept until noon, handcuffed to the wrought iron
headboard of my bed. I

was still stiff from the beatings Craig and Kathy had given me, and even
my face ached when

she woke me up and dangled a white string bikini over me.

Five minutes later, she had me wearing it at poolside in our backyard.
The pool was

thirty feet long, with chairs and recliner lounges s**ttered around it.
Our backyard was enclosed

by a tall wooden fence, so no one could see in, unless one of our
neighbors tried to climb over it.

Still, I hated being outside, especially in a bikini. She spread a
beach towel on the deck next to

the deep end of the pool, and made me lie on it. Next she handcuffed my
hands over my head to

the pool ladder, and taped my ankles together.

"I'm going swimming now," she said, kneeling beside me. "And you're
going to stay right

here on your back."

"For how long?" I asked.

She slapped me across the face, making me wince.

"And you're going to be quiet, too. If I see you move or hear you say a
word, I'll dump

you in the pool."

And so I lay there in the sun listening to my sister swim and splash
around in the water

for at least an hour before she climbed out and came over to inspect me.

"I think you're done on this side, sweetie. Turn over."

Not daring to speak, I rolled over on my stomach.

"That's better," she said. "You're so pale, you need some color on your
back. Of course

you'll have a tan line, but that's the whole idea, isn't it? So stay
there until I come back."

Oh, no! In this string bikini I was getting a girl's tan. How could I
ever go to the beach or

anywhere else bare-chested this summer?

After an hour on my back, Kathy marched me inside and stripped me. Then
she had me

on the living room floor naked with my hands tied behind my back. She
lashed my ankles with

another piece of cord, and drew my legs up, tying my ankles to my wrists
in a secure hogtie.

Sandra had taught her well.

"Wait right there," she said, "I have to make a phone call."

I couldn't hear her phone conversation, but when she hung up she was
kind enough to

tell me we were expecting company.

"We can't have company over with me like this! You have to untie me. I
have to put

some clothes on!"

"Would you like to wear this?" she asked, grinning at me as she held up
the dreaded

white corset.

"Please let me go. I'll put that thing on if you untie me."

But then the doorbell rang. I turned to the door and then back to my
sister. Who could

be here already? A moment later, Arcadia was standing over me. How
could things get any

worse? Now I was tied up and naked in front of the girl who got me beat
up yesterday.

Arcadia looked down at me and giggled. "Hi, sweetie."

"Arcadia, I didn't want you to see me like this," I groaned.

"It's all right. Kathy told me you were all tied up, but I like you
that way."

"Will you girls please let me go?" I begged.

Kathy grabbed my hair and I screamed as she pulled me up to my knees.

Arcadia moved in to take a closer look at me and said, "You're a cute
little guy, aren't

you? I love your suntan!"

"He really should have been born a girl," Kathy said, and I gasped as
she grabbed my

flaccid penis!

"Kathy, what are you doing?" I strained against the ropes, but that just
made her angry,

and she pulled on my cock. "Stop it! Please don't do that, " I begged.

Kathy let go, and Arcadia laughed so hard she could hardly talk.
Finally she held the

corset in front of me and asked, "Is this yours, Al?"

Before I could answer, Kathy said, "Of course it's his. I wouldn't wear
anything like that."

"Then I'd like you to wear it when we go out," she told me.

"You want me to go out with you? But you had Craig beat me up."

"I made a mistake. I thought I wanted a big, strong guy. But now I've
decided that I'd

rather date a pathetic little wimp I can push around. You'll forgive
me, won't you?"

Naked and helpless on my knees, I could be very forgiving. "We can go
out whenever

you want. I'll do whatever you want. Now will you untie me? These
ropes are starting to hurt."

The two girls looked at each other, and then Kathy untied my wrists. I
rubbed my wrists,

and then I struggled to undo the ropes on my ankles.

No sooner had I gotten free than Kathy ordered me up to my feet, and
wrapped the

corset around me. The two girls laced it up, and now it seemed like my
whole body was in

bondage.

"Kathy, I can't breathe," I gasped.

"Stop whining, you little wimp," she snarled. Then she planted her knee
in my back, and

pulled the laces even tighter. I felt the restrictive boning of the
corset all around me. I gasped

for air, and my legs got weak. The two girls had to hold me up until I
got my breath. I could only take shallow breaths with this awful thing
wrapped around me.

"Now put on your bra and panties," Kathy commanded me. She pointed at
the sofa,

where I saw a training bra, and even worse, a pair of pink panties.

"But that's not my underwear," I complained.

"It is now, sweetie. sisters share their stuff, and I'm giving you some
of my old

underwear. See, I take care of my little sister," she said, and both
girls giggled.

Reluctantly, I stepped into the panties, but after several failed
attempts with the bra,

Kathy grabbed me, and helped me into it none too gently.

"Al, you just look so adorable," Arcadia cooed. "I think we should go
out just like that."

"I'd get arrested," I said. But I had the nagging feeling that whatever
they made me wear

over this stuff might not be much better.

"Now hurry up and get dressed," Kathy told me. "If you keep Arcadia
waiting, she might

get real mad at you."

"But what should I wear?"

"Anything you want," she yelled. "Now move it!" She smacked me on my
pantied butt to

send me on my way.

I hurried upstairs, but I could only get halfway before I had to rest.
This horrible corset

was strangling me. When I finally got upstairs, I thought about getting
out of this awful

underwear. But when I looked in my dresser, all my underwear was gone.
Kathy had left me

some frilly and lacy stuff that made me sick. So I picked out a blue
sweatshirt which was baggy

enough to hide my new girlish figure. Blue jeans and tennis shoes made
me look like a boy

again.

Once I was downstairs again, Kathy made me turn around and model my
clothes. She

tucked my hair under a baseball cap, and said, "Not bad. "You might
even fool people into

thinking you're a real boy instead of a little sissy."

"Thanks s*s, I love you, too," I said, my voice laced with sarcasm.

Kathy nearly turned purple, and shoved me toward the door. Then she
took Arcadia

aside and whispered something to her. I only saw Arcadia nod her head
before she joined me

and we left together.

Once we were safely outside, I asked her, "What did Kathy tell you in
there?"

"You'll find out," she said. "It's such a nice day, let's go to the
park."

That was an order, not a request, so we headed for the park, five blocks
away. We were

almost there when Arcadia asked, "It's awfully warm for you to be
wearing a sweatshirt. Don't

you think you'd be more comfortable if you took it off?"

Underneath my sweatshirt was a bra, and a corset which was even less
comfortable.

"Please don't make me take my sweatshirt off," I begged. "Do you know
what will happen to me

if anyone sees me like this?"

She grinned, and the mischievous look in her eyes was not a good sign.
But she just led

me over to a picnic table.

"I'll be right back," she said. "I'll buy the soft drinks, since you
forgot your purse."

"Thanks a lot," I said. Now I had a moment to think about my
predicament in general,

and Arcadia in particular. Did she hate me like Kathy, or did she just
want to have fun teasing

me? She was on her way back from the refreshment stand when a
motorcycle drove right by

her.

"Watch where you're going, you big idiot!" she shouted. "You could have
hit me."

The biker parked near our table and said, "No harm, no foul, little
girl."

Arcadia ran up to the big biker. Then, as I watched in amazement, that
sweet angelfaced *********** looked up at him, and she spit on his black
leather jacket. The look on the biker's

face suggested that he didn't understand Arcadia either. For a moment
he just stroked his

straggly beard as he stared at the spit on his jacket. Arcadia must not
have gotten the reaction

she wanted, because she walked over to his motorcycle and kicked it
over.

Now the expression on his face changed, and not for the better. He
started toward

Arcadia, who ran straight to me, with the biker in hot pursuit.

"You better leave me alone, you big jerk," she shouted at him. "My
boyfriend will protect

me!"

I could hardly move in the corset anyway, and now I was frozen like a
deer caught in

headlights, as the burly man closed in on me. He grabbed me by the
shirt with one hand, and

lifted me off the ground.

"I...I didn't do anything," I stammered. If he pulled my sweatshirt up
any further, the

corset would show. If I were lucky he might kill me first.

"Your girlfriend has a real bad attitude," he snarled.

"Yes, sir," I chirped, as my voice cracked. "I've been meaning to talk
to her about that. If

you let me go-"

But he yanked me off my feet and dragged me into a nearby public rest
room.

"I didn't do anything," I pleaded. "She's the one who did it."

"Yeah, spitting on me and knocking my bike over was all her idea. And
you weren't

going to have a good laugh about it," he said, as he pulled me into a
stall.

He knocked my baseball cap off, and my lovely curls spilled into my
eyes. Then he

slammed me up against the stall partition and held me there with his
right hand on my throat. "I

think punks like you need to have more respect for other people. You
need to be more civilized,

and mostly you need to learn some manners."

"Yes sir," I said. My knees shook, and tears filled my eyes, blurring
my vision. I tried to

shake the hair out of my eyes, when he hit me in the belly. He yelled
and let go of me, as I

doubled over on the floor. I clutched my stomach against the dull
throbbing pain, and tried to get

my wind back. After an eternity, I looked up at him through a veil of
hair.

"What the hell are you wearing?" he yelled, rubbing his left hand. Then
he grabbed my

sweatshirt, and pulled it all over my head in a single motion. I tried
to pull my shirt back, but he

threw it out of the stall. All I could do was hold my stomach, as I
knelt on the floor, my bra and

corset exposed.

"Let's see what else you got under there, you little freak," he said,
and grabbed for my

belt.

"No!" I cried, and tried to push him away.

He twisted a handful of hair, wrenched my head back, and then pulled me
to my feet. I

squirmed and struggled as he pulled my hair. As I grabbed for his arm,
he hit me on the side of

the face. The punch landed flush on my cheek, and I went down in a
heap. I was dazed and

helpless as he stripped me of my shoes and pants. Then, as I lay on the
floor semiconscious, I

heard him slam the toilet seat and start relieving himself.

Slowly I came to my senses, and I sat up, holding my head. "Please, no
more," I

pleaded. "I didn't do anything. And I'll never do it again."

"You're damn right you won't," he said, as he twisted my arms behind my
back and made

me kneel over the toilet.

He made me look down at the bright yellow fluid, and it stank something
awful.

"Oh, God, no!" I begged, tears running down my face.

He held my wrists together with one hand, and took hold of my hair with
his other. The

stench of urine made me gasp and cough as he yanked my head back, and
then plunged my

face into the toilet. I shut my eyes, but the piss got in my mouth and
nose. He held me under

until I thought I would pass out, and then he finally let me come up for
air. I sputtered and felt

like I was ready to ***** as he held me there, my face barely two inches
from the surface of the

piss.

"Now listen to me, you little bastard! I'm going to get rid of your
clothes, and I'll be right

back. You're going to stay right here with your face in the toilet, you
got that? Because when I

get back, if your face isn't sitting in that piss, I'm gonna drown you
in it. Understand me?"

"Yes, sir," I whispered, nodding my head just above the piss.

He slammed the toilet seat down on me, and I heard him pick up my
clothes and leave.

So I waited, wrinkling my nose from the stench, and afraid to move.
Minutes went by,

and he still hadn't come back. Did he drive off? I couldn't hear too
well with my head in the

toilet. Should I get out and make a run for it? In my corset?

Subject: REPOST:ASV04 The Girl Next Door

From: an293603@anon.penet.fi

Date: 1996/08/15

ALICIA'S SUMMER VACATION

by Diabolical

CHAPTER 4: THE GIRL NEXT DOOR

The acrid stench made my eyes water. Finally I couldn't stand the smell
any more, so I

pushed back from the toilet. I peeked outside the stall, and the biker
was gone. My stomach

aching, I crawled out of the stall, and struggled to my feet. I dragged
myself over to the sink, and

looked in the mirror. The side of my face was already starting to
swell, my hair was matted with

urine, and I stunk to high heaven. I ran cold water, and tried to wash
the smell out of my hair.

It took me a few minutes to clean myself up as best I could, and then I
sank to my knees.

Even if the biker was gone, I couldn't walk home dressed like this. But
I couldn't stay here

because the biker might come back. Finally I peeked outside to see if
the coast was clear.

I was relieved to see Arcadia sitting on a park bench.

She waved to me, and got up. "I saw that biker guy leave with your
clothes, so I went

home to bring you something to wear. Just on the off chance you were
still alive."

I heaved a sigh of relief. I was all beat up, but at least I could go
home. She handed a

piece of clothing through the crack of the door to me. I unfolded it,
and was horrified to find it

was a pink spring dress.

"Don't you have any sweaters or jeans?"

"Well, I never," she huffed. "Talk about gratitude. It was the first
thing I grabbed from

my closet, but if you don't want it, I'll take it away."

Beggars can't be choosers, right? "No! I'll wear it," I said, and
quickly stepped into the

pretty dress. She giggled when I stepped outside.

"You better walk on the other side of me so you'll be upwind. No
offense, Al, but you

smell something awful."

I looked around. Would anyone recognize what I was in this dress? The
dress was wet,

and I could see the corset through it. Turns out I didn't need to
worry. In Los Angeles no one

walked anywhere this time of afternoon. Thank Heaven for the automobile
culture. So we didn't

meet anyone on the way, and somehow I dragged my aching body home, with
Arcadia teasing

me the whole way.

Kathy met me at the door. "Love your new dress, little ******. Looks
like you've had all

the sarcasm beaten out of you."

Before I could say anything Ron took one look at me, laughed, and said,
"You look like

you've ridden hard and put away wet."

Kathy went to take a better look at my swollen face and drew back.
"Yeah, tell us all the

gory details. After you take a bath."

* * * * *

The next day, I woke up to find a pair of stockings on my dresser. I
wasn't in any shape

for a fight, so I put them on and went down to have breakfast with my
brother and sister.

"You look darling in those stockings with that cute floral pattern,"
Kathy said. "Arcadia

and I are going to the video arcade today, and we'd like you to come
along."

"I'm not going outside dressed like a girl," I said. My face was all
bruised and swollen

and my stomach still hurt. I'd taken enough from her, and I was going
to stand my ground this

time.

"Sweetie, you can wear your regular clothes over my underwear, but you
ARE coming

with us!"

"Al, you'd better go with her," Ron said. "And no one will know what
you're wearing."

"All right," I groaned. I didn't want to have any part of Arcadia or
Kathy, but now I had to

go out again.

We met Arcadia at her house, and she expressed displeasure with my
clothes.

"Really, Al. A sweater and jeans. Don't you have any prettier clothes
than that?"

"I'm wearing my pretty clothes underneath," I groaned.

So we all walked to the arcade. I didn't have any money, so I just hung
out watching

other k**s play games, while the two girls spent their time checking out
the boys. Finally, they

dragged me over to a picture booth.

"Come on, we're all getting our picture taken together," Kathy said.

But after we stepped behind the curtain, Arcadia held my arms, and Kathy
pulled my

pants down. I struggled against the girls in vain, as Kathy ripped the
velcro snaps on my shoes

open, and pulled my shoes and pants off.

"What are you doing?" I whispered. "There's lots of k**s here."

"Bend over," she ordered me.

"Why? Haven't you taken enough pictures of me?"

"We're not here to take your picture," Arcadia cooed.

"Here's one of Sandra's toys that she didn't tell you about," Kathy
said, holding up a

flesh-colored, tapered rubber wedge. "I'm going to shove this up your
ass."

My heart was pounding as I stared at that ugly thing. "I won't do it!
There's no way you

can make me do it!"

"Suit yourself," Kathy said. "We'll be on our way now. You can explain
to all the other

boys here why you're dressed like that."

My mouth dropped open. I was trapped in an arcade wearing girl's
underwear.

"See, I'm afraid your disguise has been penetrated," Kathy said, and
threw the curtain

open.

"And that's not the only thing that's going to be penetrated today,"
Arcadia said, giggling.

"No, wait," I whispered as loud as I could without attracting attention.
"I'll do it," I said,

and pulled the curtain shut.

As the two girls snickered, I had to get down on my knees and offer my
butt in the air for

their pleasure. I felt Kathy squirt some lubricant onto me, and then
start working the plug into me as I gritted my teeth.

"Relax, sweetie," she said. "You're making this hurt more than it
should. If you want to

be a real girl, you're going to have to get used to wearing a butt
plug."

"Oooh," I moaned, squirming as the plug forced its way further inside
me. Tears of

shame rolled down my cheeks as she shoved it all the way in. Finally my
sphincter muscles

closed around it.

"Now wipe those tears away, sweetie," Kathy jeered at me. "There's a
whole world out

there waiting to see you!"

At least they let me dress and compose myself for a minute before I had
to face that

world. They pulled the curtain open, and I stepped outside, the butt
plug making me walk stifflegged as it forced me forward. I looked around
in fear, sure that everyone could tell what had

happened to me. But even though the girls couldn't keep straight faces,
no one else paid

attention to a young boy with red eyes hobbling out of the arcade.

That night, I just wanted to go to bed, but Kathy had other ideas.

"I have a date with Craig tonight, and he'll be over soon."

"I thought you broke up with Craig," I said.

"I did, but we've made up. See, he got all upset because I didn't make
you suck his

cock. In all fairness, I tried to be nice to you, but I didn't want to
lose a boyfriend over it. You

can understand that, can't you?"

"I guess so, but what does this have to do with me?"

"Well, after we broke up, the first thing he did was go out with
Arcadia. I couldn't very

well have him going out with my new best friend, what with all the
tension that would cause. So

we agreed to make up. That's where you come in."

"Where I come in?" I didn't like the sound of that.

"See, this whole problem started when you didn't give him a blow job.
He was just so

disappointed. Now to set things right, you're going to be very
accomodating tonight."

"Wait a minute-"

"On your knees, little sissy. Craig will be here any minute, and I want
to make sure

you're tied up nice and tight."

I groaned and knelt before my sister. She quickly wrapped a few loops
of rope around

my wrists, and cinched them tight. Then she expertly bound my ankles,
cross-legged, forcing my

knees wide apart. She bound my ankles to my wrists, and I couldn't move
an inch.

"Kathy, everything hurts. It's too tight," I pleaded.

Then the doorbell rang. "Just in time! Here, maybe sucking on this
will take your mind

off everything else," she said, nudging a penis gag between my teeth.
She tied it around my

head, and giggled. "Go on, you need the practice," she called to me as
she strolled out the door.

I had to wait there on the floor thinking about my fate, bound and
gagged, until I heard

them coming up the stairs. But they had let me go once before. Maybe I
could talk them out of

it. Once I got the gag out of my mouth, anyway. Maybe Kathy just
wanted to take some more

pictures of me, and she just wanted to scare me. Tied up like this, I'd
be happy to pose for them

now. A moment later, Craig and my sister stood over me.

"You don't need to suck on that fake cock any more, ******," he said.
"It's time for the

real thing." And as I watched, he dropped his pants, and then his
underwear. Kathy pulled me

up to my knees, and made me kneel in front of him. Even as Craig untied
my gag, his cock grew

until it pointed straight at my face.

"Guess what, sissy?" Kathy said. "I convinced Ron that this would be
such a special

moment in your life, that he bought this camcorder so we can videotape
it! Now smile for the

camera!"

"You...you're going to tape me doing this?" I cried in disbelief.

"And that's not all. This camcorder has a little color screen, so we
can play it back right

here, and watch it all over again."

"Yeah," Craig said. "That way we can see if we didn't get it right, we
can do it over

again."

"No-" I moaned.

"The camera's rolling, little sissy, so start licking that cock," she
said.

"No, please turn it off," I begged.

Then Kathy grabbed a handful of my hair and turned my head. "I'm going
to explain this

to you once, you little ******. Craig introduced me to the neighborhood
k**s who hang out at the

mall. Unless you behave yourself right now, I'm going to take this tape
down to the mall and

show all those k**s what you are," she said.

"And then I'll take you down to the mall myself," Craig said, "and I'll
personally introduce

you to my friends."

Kathy turned my head back, and now all I could see was the erect cock in
my face.

"All right, I'll do it," I sniffled, trying not to cry. I licked the
tip of his cock, and then took

more of it in my mouth. Slowly I worked it in and out, my tongue
sliding up and down the shaft.

Craig moaned, and his cock grew even larger in my mouth. He grabbed my
hair, and started

thrusting in and out, slamming my chin against his balls.

And then he started spurting cum into my mouth. The salty taste filled
my mouth, and

the realization of what it was made me queasy. I caught a lot of it,
but he pulled all the way out,

and the gooey stuff leaked and dribbled out of my mouth and down my
chin. He pushed me

away, and stood over me, leaving me to look at the cum on his cock.
Helpless even to wipe my

face, I burst into tears.

"Good job, sweetie," Kathy said. "Those tears are precious. Now turn
to face the

camera, and cry like a baby."

Craig helped me by twisting my face around to see that Kathy had moved
in for a

closeup.

"Please let me go," I cried, with tears streaming down my face. "I want
to wash my face."

"Let's see you struggle," she said. "Put on a good show, and I'll let
you clean yourself

up."

"See you around, ******," Craig said. "We'll have to do this again some
time."

But even after Craig left, Kathy kept videotaping me as I sniffled. I
tried to struggle

against my bonds, but I didn't have the strength any more. Finally she
turned off the camera.

"In the future you'll have to do a lot better, ******. Do you feel like
a girl now?"

I just sobbed and finally blurted out, "No!"

"I'm not surprised. Sucking a cock doesn't make you a girl. Real girls
like me don't suck

cock. You're not a girl, little ******, you're just a human toilet. To
be a girl, you'll have to have a

boy fuck you, and I can arrange that, too!"

"Please don't," I sobbed. "I'll do anything you want."

That night she chained me spreadeagled to my bed, with cum smeared all
over my face.

"Why do I have to stay tied up at night?" I asked.

"So you won't be tempted to play with that sorry little cock of yours.
Would you rather I

cut it off, and then we won't have to worry about it?"

I gasped, and shook my head. Maybe being tied up wasn't so bad. But no
matter what I

did, I couldn't get the Craig's taste out of my mouth.

The next morning, Kathy finally let me out of bed. After I had fixed
myself up, she

accosted me in my bedroom. "Now you're going to be a slave girl, and
I'm going to be your

mistress. Isn't that right, little ******?"

I just nodded my head.

"This is what it means to be my slave," Kathy said, "and you'd better
get used to it."

She took her bracelet off and tossed it at my feet. "Now pick it up,"
she ordered me.

I was fuming, but I picked it up.

Then she held out her hand. "Now put it back on my wrist, ******."

I swallowed, and gently eased the bracelet onto her wrist.

But immediately she took it off, and threw it at my feet. "Now do it
again. Only this time,

while you're down there, kiss my feet!"

I didn't know how much more of this I could take. I knelt and kissed
her black vinyl

boots.

"You call that a kiss? I couldn't even feel it. Do it again like you
mean it!"

I planted a big kiss on each of her boots. Then I took the bracelet and
placed it around

her wrist again.

"Very good, ************. Now I've got a pair of bracelets for you to
try on." She shoved a

pair of handcuffs in my face.

I took the handcuffs and stared at them, as she turned her back on me to
pick up a long

wooden paddle.

"You need to be more cooperative," she said. "I hate having to tell you
everything

twice."

I was so sick of her ordering me around. And now she was so sure of
herself that she

was going to make me handcuff myself. She even turned her back on me.
But she shouldn't

have done that.

I snuck up behind her, and snapped a cuff on one of her wrists.

"What do you think you're doing?" she yelled, trying to turn to face me.

But I was too quick for her. I had taken her by surprise, and grabbed
her other wrist.

She was thrown off balance, and I pulled her wrists together and
manacled them.

"Are you crazy?" she shouted. "I'll get you for this!"

"You've already gotten me enough," I said, stuffing a handkerchief in
her mouth. "And

I'm tired of taking orders from you." I shoved her onto the bed.

She screamed into the handkerchief, but only muffled sounds came out.

"Let's take a look at this paddle of yours," I said. "I'll bet it
hurts." Then I lifted her skirt,

revealing her panties.

Subject: (fwd) ASV05 Payback For A Btich

From: PupDoesIt <thwhite@capital.net>

Date: 1996/09/03

ALICIA'S SUMMER VACATION

by Diabolical

CHAPTER 5: PAYBACK FOR A BITCH

"This is for making me have my hair done at the salon," I said, and
smacked her butt. "I wonder how many of these you can take before you
start crying," I said.

She tried to scream again, but now I could see the fear in her eyes, and
I licked my lips in anticipation.

"I guess there's only one way to find out, right Mistress?" I snarled,
grasping a handful of hair and jerking her head way back.

She tried to moan something, but I ignored her pitiful begging, pulled
down her panties and whacked her again. I loved the sound the paddle made
when it landed on her bare ass.

"And this is for making me dress like a girl," I said, and hit her in
the same spot, leaving a nice big red imprint. "How'd you like that one,
Mistress?" I sneered. And then Thwack! "That one was for letting Craig
beat me up. What's this, do we see some tears now? We've barely gotten
started."

My poor sister shuddered and bucked, but I held her good and tight. I
wasn't going to let her go any time soon. "This one is for shoving a butt
plug up my ass," I said, and smacked her the same cheek again. And then
the tears started to flow.

"Is that the best you can do, Mistress?" I taunted her. "Looks like you
can dish it out, but you can't take it. Well, this is for that sun tan on
my chest." And I smacked her reddened cheek yet again.

I stopped for a moment to admire both my work, and the tears trickling
down her face. Then I shook my head. "No, this isn't right at all. One
of your cheeks is bright red, and the other one is still pale. We've got
to make them match, don't you think?"

She moaned into her gag as she shook her head, and turned to look up at
me with tears glistening in her sad eyes.

But in view of the recent past, I was fresh out of mercy. "I don't know
how to make this red cheek pale again, but I do know how to color the other
one," I said. "This is for making me suck Craig's cock."

And I hit her again. And again. And again. With my adrenaline
pumping, I lost count, but I think I hit her seven or eight more times.
Finally I stopped to rest, and my poor helpless sister was sobbing and
writhing now, much to my delight. "How does it feel to be beaten up by
your little sissy brother, Mistress?" I shouted.

But the commotion attracted our brother, and Ron came running into the
room. "What's going on here?" he shouted.

It didn't take him long to sort things out, and set Kathy free.

"I'll get you for this, you little bastard!" she said, choking on tears.

* * * * *

I spent that night chained to my bed wearing nothing but padded leather
cuffs on my wrists and ankles. The next morning, I awoke to find Sandra
dressed in a black leather suit, and shaking me.

"What are you doing here?" I said.

"I came to teach you some manners," she said, and unchained me from the
bed. With my wrists bound in front of me, she grabbed a handful of hair,
and pulled me out of bed.

"Ow," I screamed, "take it easy-"

Then she slapped me across the face, and pulled me close to her. With
one cheek burning, and the other one pressed against her soft leather
jacket, I was wide awake, and she had my full attention.

"You're going to get rid of those masculine habits of yours today," she
said.

Naked and bound, she dragged me off to the bathroom, and threw me into
the little chair in front of the vanity mirror.

"You need a shave," she told me.

"But I'm not old enough. I don't have to shave."

"You do where I'm going to shave you. This body hair of yours is so
unsightly," she said.

"No young lady should ever have hair on her arms or legs."

I watched first in fascination and then in horror as she lathered my arm
and used a

disposable razor on me. It scratched and irritated me, but I wasn't
about to let her know that.

She went to do shave both of my arms and legs.

"That'll do for now," she said. "Does it hurt, sweetie?"

"It's not so bad," I shrugged.

"Then you better get used to doing it yourself every week from now on.
We could some hair remover to make it easier on you, but why waste money on
a little bastard like you?"

I didn't know what to say, and she went on, "That's a nice sun tan you
have on your chest. You must look lovely in a bikini."

Silently I glared at her.

"Oh, you're so beautiful when you're angry," she cooed. "And now I'm
going to make you even more beautiful."

She picked up a pair of tweezers, and held my head firmly. Slowly, she
plucked a hair from my eyebrow, making me wince. And then another and
another. I squeezed my eyes shut, not only from the pain, but from the
fear that she was changing my appearance permanently. The tan lines on my
chest were bad enough, but now I wouldn't be able to show my face without
looking like an effeminate **********. I suffered in silence until she was
through.

"There, don't you look cute?" she said, turning me to face the mirror. I
was horrified to

see the thin feminine arch of my plucked eyebrows.

"Now even if you tried to dress up as a boy, you'll still look like the
sweetest little sissy in town. Imagine what real boys will do to you once
they see that darling little face of yours!"

I barely had time to consider my fate when she gathered up my hair with
a curling iron.

"Now what?" I moaned.

"You're going to have an important visitor today, sissy. I'm going to
tighten your curls a

bit because I know you want to look nice."

And she went on to fix my hair, finally leaving me with a head full of
soft curls hanging to my shoulders. I wrinkled my nose as she started
applying a foundation.

Finally she said, "I think some blush will really bring out your
cheekbones."

My mouth open, I turned my head from side to side, my gaze fixed on the
mirror. I wouldn't have believed it, but from the neck up, my reflection
in the mirror was that of a girl.

"I see you approve," she whispered to me. "But we aren't done yet.
Part your lips."

Still in a haze, I did so willingly, and she applied coral lipstick. I
licked my lips, and I saw

them glisten as she turned me around. Reluctantly, I turned away from
my reflection, and she

brushed my cheeks. At last she announced that her work was done, and
let me look at myself.

She'd covered up my bruises, and I gasped as I stared at the rosy red
blush on my cheeks. I

reached up to touch my face with my bound wrists, just to make sure it
was really me.

But Sandra caught my wrists and pulled them away. "Musn't smudge your
makeup,

sweetie. Now let's see if your sister may have some ideas about
dressing you."

Suddenly my illusion burst. After what I did to Kathy last night, I was
going to be in big

trouble now. Whatever ideas my sister had, they weren't going to be
good ones. Sandra led me

back to my bedroom, where my brother and sister were waiting.

"Well, look at you," Kathy said, as she studied my face. "You never
looked that good as a boy. I think you're going to make a fine little
sister, though."

"What are you going to do?" I asked.

"It's not me you need to worry about," she said. "Wait till you meet
Donna."

"Who's Donna?" I asked.

But it was Ron who answered. "It's become clear that I can't take care
of the two of you

by myself," he said. "And this house is getting to be a mess. So we
need some help around

here."

"What kind of help?"

"I've hired a governess to run the household," he said.

"A governess? What's that, someone who takes care of k**s?" I asked.

"Yeah," he snapped. "She'll take care of you."

TO BE CONTINUED

Subject: REPOST:ASV06 A Leash For Alicia

From: an293603@anon.penet.fi

Date: 1996/08/15

Message-Id: <161431Z15081996@anon.penet.fi>

X-Anonymously-To: alt.sex.stories

Organization: Anonymous forwarding service

Reply-To: an293603@anon.penet.fi

Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories

ALICIA'S SUMMER VACATION

by Diabolical

CHAPTER 6: A LEASH FOR ALICIA

Kathy made me wear just stockings, panties, and the awful white corset.
Then without

any outer clothing, she took me downstairs, where Sandra was waiting for
me with another

woman. Sandra introduced me to a tall, heavily-built woman, whose black
hair was tied back in a bun. Her name was Donna, and in her shapeless blue
muumuu, she looked like she could play

linebacker in the NFL. Even more ominous, she was a friend of Sandra.

I was glad to see Sandra leave, but now I faced this hard-looking woman
in my living

room.

"My name is Donna, and I'm going to make sure that you're a well behaved
************

girl. Is that clear?" she asked me.

"I'm not really a girl," I said. I figured I'd better set her straight
before she got the wrong

idea about me. "They just made me wear these clothes."

Donna suddenly pulled me close by a handful of hair, and slapped me
across the face.

I'd never been hit so hard in my life. My head snapped to the side, and
my knees buckled. My

eyes rolled back in my head as she held me up by my hair.

"Don't you even know how to curtsy, c***d?" she asked.

By now my head had stopped spinning. "I'm sorry," I begged. "Please
don't hit me like

that again."

"Listen to me, little sissy," she said, lifting me on my tiptoes. "You
will speak only when

spoken to, and you will address me as Mistress Donna. Is that clear?"

"Y-yes, Mistress Donna," I stammered.

"You are going to be a good ************ girl, or I will beat you day
and night, is that

clear?"

"Yes, Mistress Donna," I responded, nodding my head feverishly.

"She needs a new name," Donna said. "We can't very well call her Al.
How does Alice

sound?"

I was ready to agree to anything at this point. If they wanted to call
me Bubbles or Sissy,

it would have been fine with me.

But Kathy interrupted before I could say anything. "I think Alicia is
better. A-li-ci-a is a

pretty name," she said, pronouncing all the syllables.

"Very well," Donna said, turning to me. "Your name is Alicia, you are a
sweet ************

girl, and all you care about is looking pretty so that boys will like
you. Now repeat that back to

me."

I gulped and gasped for air, and then addressed her as Mistress Donna,
and professed

my love for my new name, my new sex, and my humble ambition in life.

"I've brought you a new outfit," she said, holding out a black satin
minidress trimmed in

white lace.

"Thank you, Mistress Donna," I said, and hurried as best I could in the
corset to step into

the dress. It felt so soft against my skin that I almost forgot how it
made me look.

Then she spun me around, and tied a white cloth around my waist. I had
to stare at it for

a moment. It was an apron. "But..but this is a maid's uniform,
Mistress Donna!" I cried in

dismay.

"Yes, ************," Donna said. "Do you have a problem with that?"

I turned to my brother for help. "Ron, I'm not a maid. I don't know
anything about being

a maid."

"You'll learn," he said. "There's no point in having you gather dust
around here while

you're bound and gagged up all day. At least this way you might learn a
new skill."

For a moment I was speechless. A split second later I was on my back,
my ears ringing

again. My head lolled from side to side until my vision focused, and I
could see Donna standing

over me. With my head turned, I hadn't seen her slap me again.

"Don't ever turn your back on me, Alicia!" she snarled. Then she
grabbed me by my

pretty lace collar, and sat me down in a chair. I was still
light-headed, when she squeezed a pair

of tight shoes on my feet, and yanked me to my feet. "Do you like your
new shoes?" she

demanded.

"Yes, Mistress Donna," I squeaked, waving my arms for balance. Not only
were these

shoes tight, they were making me lean forward.

"Those are three-inch heels. You'll do all your housework in them.
When you get used

to them, I'll give you something higher."

Higher? I was about to fall over in these things. But then she pinned
a frilly white maid's

cap on my head, and commanded me to walk over to the mirror.

Kathy looked like she was about to die laughing. "Take a good look at
yourself, Alicia!"

she said.

I had only wobbled a couple of steps when Donna grabbed my arm. "That
is not how a

young lady walks. And even though you're a slave, you're going to walk
like a lady."

"Yes, Mistress Donna," I mumbled.

"I like that," Kathy said. "Can I make the little sissy call me
Mistress Katherine?"

"I don't see why not," Donna said.

I let out as big a sigh as the corset would allow. Mistress Katherine.
It just doesn't get

any better than this.

"Then let me show this cute little maid how to walk," Kathy said, and
took me by the arm.

"Now put one little foot directly in front of the other, and sway your
hips and shoulders." Then

she did an exaggerated walk I'd seen fashion models do on a catwalk.

Reluctantly, I took a tiny step, and then another, swaying each shoulder
as I put that foot

forward. And after several mincing steps, I hobbled over to the mirror.

"By George, I think she's got it," Kathy said.

Now I could only stand in front of the full length mirror, admiring my
reflection. There

stood a pretty maid with aching feet, my smiling sister beside me.

"Kath-uh, Mistress Katherine, why do I have to wear these high-heeled
shoes to do

housework?"

"That's to get you used to them. See, you'll want to wear high heels
when you go out

with boys."

"When I go out with boys? I can't go out dressed like this."

"Not like a maid, of course. But when you're wearing a dress or a gown,
you'll want to

have a nice looking set of pumps to go with it."

A dress or a gown? On me? "But these shoes hurt, and I can hardly walk
in them."

"Do I have to explain everything to you? If you were a real boy, you'd
know that's the

idea, sweetie. Boys know that when you're on high heels, you can't run
away from them. If they

chase you, you won't get far. And since you've deliberately worn those
heels, you must want the

boys to catch you, right?"

"But-"

"When a boy sees a girl teetering on high heels, he knows she's looking
for action. And

the higher the heels, the more helpless she's made herself. But these
heels will do for a start."

I wanted to scream, I wanted to cry. "But this is getting worse all the
time," I cried.

"You should have thought of that last night," Kathy said. "I have to
take you to the

shopping center. You really need a new dress."

"I can't buy a dress!"

"You can't go on wearing your big sister's hand-me downs, either," Donna
snapped at

me.

"That's right," Kathy said. "You deserve better. So we're going
shopping tomorrow."

"But for now, you're enrolling in charm school," Donna said.

"Charm school, Mistress Donna?" I asked.

"Think of it as Mistress Donna's Charm School. It's for sissified
******s," she snarled at

me. "You're going to learn how to act like a sweet young lady tonight."

I swallowed. "Yes, Mistress Donna," I squeaked.

I spent the rest of the day learning how to behave myself. I had to
stand like a lady with

my ankles together. How to sit like a lady, smoothing out my skirt
first, and crossing only my

ankles, never my legs. I had to curtsy over and over until I learned to
do it gracefully. If I wanted to laugh at dinner, I had to turn my head
and giggle like a proper young lady. But hardest of all was learning to
stand and walk on high heels.

After dinner, Donna had gone for the day, and I was rinsing the dishes
when Ron passed

by. Somehow, I had to get him to help me.

"Ron," I called to him. "Donna hates me even more than Kathy."

"I think you'll find Donna's really easy to get along with. You just do
everything she tells

you to, and you'll get along with her just fine. And there's a lot you
can learn from her, Alicia."

"Not you, too," I groaned. "Please don't call me that."

"Now there's the problem. You still haven't accepted your new life, and
that's only going

to make things harder on yourself."

"But Ron, they beat me. They made me suck Kathy's rotten boyfriend.
They dress me

like a girl. Like a maid! I can't do this any more. If you don't make
them leave me alone, I'm

going to call the police!"

And Ron's expression hardened. He stepped forward, and at 6-foot-2 he
towered over

me. "Tell you what, Alicia, we can do that right now. I'll call the
cops and tell them my little

****** brother isn't happy with his new clothes. Cops love ******s, you
know. Who do you

think they'll believe? You, or the rest of us?"

"What...what do you mean?" I stammered.

"The neighbors saw you come home from the park in a dress. Your
hairdresser and

others have already seen you out and around dressed as a girl. Everyone
thinks I have two little

sisters. Wait until you try to explain that to the cops. Maybe they'll
send over a big black cop to

investigate. Then you'll have a great big cock to suck on. Does that
turn you on, ******?"

I swallowed, and had to fight back the tears. "No, please don't," I
begged. "I'm sorry. I

won't tell anyone."

"Good girl," he said, patting me on the head. "You've got a lot to
learn this summer.

What IS your name, anyway?"

"My name is Alicia," I said.

"Isn't there more, Alicia?"

I averted my eyes, and mumbled, "I'm a sweet ************ girl, and all
I want to do is look

nice so the boys will like me."

"Glad we got we settled, cutie," he said. "Now finish doing the
dishes."

My last hope was gone, and I had pissed off my brother now. I finished
the dishes, and

went upstairs. All I wanted to do was go to sleep, and forget today had
ever occurred. But Kathy

was waiting for me in my bedroom. She stood near the bed with a leather
strap coiled around

her hand.

"Get on your knees, and crawl over here, sweetie," she said. "I've got
a present for you."

I let out a sigh. It was time for her revenge, and I was too tired to
do anything about it.

Besides, I probably deserved it. Silently, I crawled and knelt at her
feet.

She unwrapped the strap, and it turned out to be a leash with a collar
attached. A

leather collar that she fastened tightly around my neck. "There," she
said, "there's nothing quite

like a collar to say I own you. Isn't that right, ************?"

"Yes, Mistress Katherine," I said, hoping she'd appreciate my formal
address. At least

with the leash attached to my neck, she wasn't going to beat me with it.


"And I've got something else, too," she said, holding up a hairbrush.

I said nothing, but waited for an explanation. The hairbrush might
sting, but I was sure

she could find worse things to hit me with.

"Come over behind me, slave girl," she said, and as I did so, she handed
me the brush.

"You're going to brush my hair now."

"Yes, Mistress Katherine," I said in surprise.

Then she gingerly sat down, squirming a bit as she did so. "For some
reason my rear

end is sore today. But I know the last thing in the world you'd ever
want to do is to cause your

only sister any pain, right sweetie?"

"Yes, Mistress Katherine," I said. She had given me a hairbrush, and
then sat with her

back to me, just daring me to take advantage of her as I had done last
night. And she knew I

wouldn't. I couldn't. Yes, I was afraid to, but the truth is I thought
I might be better off if I could

get on her good side. If she had a good side. Maybe if I were nice to
her, she'd take it easy on

me. Ron sure wasn't going to help me. So I gently brushed the ends of
her hair. My own hair

was long enough that I knew how to avoid snags.

"Very good," she said. "You may be useful for something after all."

Her hair was beautiful: the same color and texture as mine, but it felt
softer and silkier as

I ran my hands through it. She must use a conditioner or something, I
thought, as I took long

strokes with the brush.

Finally, she said, "That's enough." She took the brush from me and said,
"From now on,

you will be my personal slave girl, and you will wait on me hand and
foot. And if you ever hit me again, you will become a girl for real."

"For real?" I asked.

"This morning I asked Sandra about the cost of having a sex change
operation. She

knows a doctor who will perform the operation for $15,000, with no
questions asked. It's a lot of

money, but Ron says we can afford it, if that's what it takes to keep
you in line. They'll cut your

little dick off, and give you breast implants, so you'll have a real
pair of titties."

"Please, Mistress Katherine, don't do that to me. I promise I'll do
whatever you want. I'll

brush your hair every night if you want."

She tugged on the leash, put her hand on top of my head, and pushed me
to my knees.

"Then kiss me good night," she said.

I kissed both of her feet, and she tied me to the bed.

"You'd better get some rest, because you've got a big day ahead of you
tommorow."

"What...what are you going to do?"

"We're going shopping tomorrow. We both know you're just my slave, but
the rest of the

world is going to think you're my sister. And I do want you to look
pretty."

She turned off the light, leaving me bound in the dark. Beating me at
home wasn't

enough for her. Now she had to humiliate me publicly.

TO BE CONTINUED

Subject: REPOST: ASV07 Born To Shop

From: an293603@anon.penet.fi

Date: 1996/08/15

ALICIA'S SUMMER VACATION

by Diabolical

CHAPTER 7: BORN TO SHOP

I didn't sleep well that night. I wasn't used to the collar around my
neck, and the leather

cuffs binding my ankles and wrists didn't help any. That morning Donna
told me she was not

happy with my progress, and informed me that I would be bound every
night until I behaved like

a good ***********. The next morning after breakfast, Kathy said,
"Alicia, your hair looks lovely this morning, but you still need a new
look."

"What do you mean?"

"You'll find out at the shopping center. I've picked out your clothes,"
she said, pointing at

a white blouse and pleated skirt. "You'll wear those three-inch heels
from your maid's uniform."

"But I can't go outside dressed like that!"

"Sweetie, every time you go out dressed like a boy you get beat up.
This way we can

save some wear and tear on your face."

Gee, I would never have thought of that.

"Besides, you came home from the park in a dress, didn't you?" she
continued.

"But that was different! I didn't have any choice!"

She grabbed my hair, and slammed me against the wall. "Like you have a
choice now?"

A half hour later she had marched me to the shopping center. Our first
stop was at a

manicurist, and my feet were aching already.

"But I thought we were going to buy a dress," I complained.

"My, aren't you eager? We'll have plenty of time to find you a dress.
But first you'll have

to have your nails done."

"But I don't want to go in there!" I pleaded.

"What you want isn't important," she said, opening the door and shoving
me inside.

"Jennifer recommended this place."

The shop was empty except for a young brunette named Lynn, who greeted
us with a

smile.

"I'm Kathy," my sister said. "Jennifer at the salon said you could help
me."

The girl's face lit up. "Of course!" she said, and then turned to me.
"And you must be the little sissy!"

My jaw dropped. I tried to turn away, but Kathy took my arm and pushed
me forward.

"Alicia wants her nails done in the brightest red you've got," she said.

"An excellent choice for a sweet ***********," Lynn said cheerfully.
"You'll look adorable,

just you wait and see."

Lynn sat me down at a Formica counter, took my limp hand, and started
filing my nails.

"So how long have you been dressing like a girl, sweetie?"

I rolled my eyes and looked at Kathy.

"Alicia's always been a little ******, but she's just started dressing
the part recently. She

wants to have her nails done so the boys will notice her."

I groaned, but I didn't dare start an argument under these
circumstances.

"Oh, that's so cute!" Lynn squealed. "I can help with that. I have a
friend who manages

the clothing store two shops down. There's lots of pretty dresses to
choose from. While your

nails are drying, I'll let her know to expect you."

So now someone else would find out about me. I felt so miserable as she
lacquered my

nails. One by one they turned a glossy red.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" Lynn asked Kathy.

"Have you finished Alicia already?" Kathy asked.

She'd finished me all right. I was never going to get this stuff off.
My sister admired her

own nails, a much more subdued shade of pink, and said, "Oh, I'm happy
with this color. It's not

as exciting as Alicia's bright red, but then she's more adventurous than
I am. I never know when

the little sissy might try to steal a boyfriend from me!"

They both laughed and laughed while I put my head in my hands. Then
Lynn excused

herself, and I stared at my new nails, hoping they'd dry faster. A few
minutes later Lynn returned

and said, "It's all arranged. I told Barbara at the dress shop all
about you."

As soon as we got outside, l begged Kathy to let me go home.

"Sweetie, we'll do no such thing. They're expecting us at that store."

"But I don't really need a new dress."

"We don't have to buy anything, you little sissy. Girls love to shop,
so you'd better get

used to that. Besides you'll get to try on all those pretty dresses.
Won't that be fun?"

Inside the dress shop at the front counter, we met Barbara, an
attractive thirtysomething

brunette with straight shoulder length hair.

"Oh, you must be Alicia," she said, grinning at me. "Lynn told me about
you, but I had no

idea you'd be so cute."

"Thanks," I mumbled.

"Alicia's looking for a pretty dress for the summer," Kathy said.
"Something that will turn

a boy's head."

"Oh, good!" she said. "So you're not just into fashion. You really do
want to be a girl!"

I made a face, and Kathy elbowed me in the ribs.

"Yes, ma'am," I said.

"I'll find you something with lots of bows and lace," she said as she
e*****ed me inside.

I spent the next hour trying on one frilly dress after another. They
made me strut up and

down as I modeled anything a fashionable *********** might wear. My
feet were killing me, and I

just got more and more disgusted.

"Can't we go home now?" I begged Kathy.

"But we haven't found the perfect dress. If we don't buy anything,
we'll have to come

back again tomorrow and shop all over again. Would you like that,
little sissy?"

"Just pick something, and let's get this over with, OK?"

Kathy selected a low cut black dress that ended around mid-thigh, and
was slit all the

way to the waist. It was practically an invitation to ****.

I frowned, but decided to make the best of it. "All right, can I have
that one?" I asked

Kathy.

"That's 'may I', you ignorant little slut. Donna will hear about this,"
she said.

"I think you'll get lots of attention in that dress," Barbara said.
"Try it on."

I hurried to try on the sleazy black dress. Anything to get out of
here.

"You look hot," Barbara gushed when I returned, as she spun me around.

Kathy dragged me in front of the mirror, and giggled. "The boys will be
all over you in

this. We'll take it!"

Finally I was free. "Let's get out of here," I moaned as we left.

"Not just yet, sissy. We have to stop by the jewelry store for some
earrings."

"But my feet hurt. Why do you need earrings now?"

"Not me, silly. They're for you. But first you have to have your ears
pierced."

I gasped and held my earlobes.

* * * * *

The sign in the window of the jewelry shop said, "Ears Pierced - With or
Without Pain."

"This looks like the place," Kathy said. She knocked on the door, a
buzzer went off, and

Kathy pushed the door open. The store owner was a young blonde woman
named Cecilia. She

was pretty enough, but she had a stern expression on her face, and her
hair was tied back in a

bun. She looked like she was pissed off at the world. On her white
jacket was a button that said,

"I used to miss my ex-husband, but my aim is improving."

"My sister Alicia wants to have her ears pierced," Kathy said, as we sat
at the counter.

"How nice," she said, walking around the counter. "Stand up and let me
have a good

look at you."

This woman made me nervous. The other shopkeepers made fun of me, but
they weren't nasty like my sister. I stood, and Cecilia took my chin in my
hands. She seemed to be

looking straight through me as she gently lifted my hair from my ears.
"Your face has a nice

shape, and you can wear your lovely hair up to show off your ears." Then
her fingers traced

gently over my Adam's apple, and I saw a hint of a smile on her face.

"So tell me, Alicia, are you sure you want to have your ears pierced?"

"Yeah," I mumbled, and then caught myself. "I mean yes, I'd like to.
And without pain."

"It's just that you don't look very happy to be here. Usually little
girls like you are all

excited to have their ears pierced."

"She's just nervous about the pain," Kathy said.

"Are you sure this isn't something your big sister is making you do?"
she asked.

"N-no, I really want to do this," I said.

"I just wanted to make sure," she said. "It's not every day we have a
********** come in

here wearing a blouse and skirt to have his ears pierced."

My eyes got wide and my heart started pounding. Could she have found me
out already? No, she must be teasing me. I laughed nervously, and said,
"You must be mistaken." I

turned to my sister, and said, "Kathy, she thinks I'm-"

The woman hit me with a slap that made the whole side of my face sting
as my eyes

watered. I held my face and looked up at her. Fighting back the tears,
I said, "Kathy, she hit me!

Let's get out of here!"

"I want the truth, or I'll call the police, and you can explain yourself
to them. Are you a

little ****** or not?"

I turned to go, but Kathy grabbed me, pulled my arms behind me, and spun
me around to

face that awful woman again. "You better tell the truth if you know
what's good for you," my

sister hissed.

"All right, I'm a boy," I said.

"No k**ding," she said. She paused for a moment; she seemed emboldened
now that

Kathy wasn't going to defend me. "Do you like it up the ass or do you
just suck cock?"

"No," I said, shaking my head. "I don't like to do anything like that."

She slapped me again, bringing tears from my eyes. "I'll say this for
the last time. I want

the truth."

"He likes to suck my boyfriend's cock," Kathy volunteered helpfully.

Now the woman sneered and backhanded my other cheek, snapping my head
around.

My sister held me fast, and I couldn't get out of the way. She slapped
me again, and snarled,

"The little ****** can speak for himself, can't he?" she snarled.

My ears were ringing, both cheeks were on fire, and tears spilled down
my face. "Yes, I

sucked her boyfriend's cock!" I blurted out. "I'm a boy! I'm a ******!
Please don't hit me!"

She calmed down and said, "I see why you wanted your ears pierced
without pain, you

little sissy. I've had eight-year old girls in here who were tougher
than you."

I sniffled and tried to wipe my face as Cecilia dragged me over to a
counter and forced

me into a chair. Kathy sat next to me, and brushed my hair off my ears.

"You really like getting beat up by women, don't you?"

"Just by you, s*s," I grumbled.

"Has the little sissy done anything to offend you?" Kathy asked. "She
just seems to bring

out the worst in everyone."

"I hate men," she said. "My ex-husband was the worst, but they're all
bad. And I love

hurting them, especially little wimps like this one," Cecilia said,
pinning my hair back and

swabbed my ears with something that made them numb. While she worked on
me, Kathy

wandered off to look at earrings. Mercifully, I didn't feel a thing,
and the bitch had to tell me

when she was done.

"There," she said, "you're done. I'll even throw in a pair of earrings,
perfect for a little

sissy like you." And then she clipped a pair of red plastic hoop
earrings on me.

"Those are cute," Kathy gushed. "And when you get dressed up, we can
get you

something more glamorous."

"I can hardly wait," I groaned.

But things didn't get any better when I got home. I found that I had
more to learn than

just how to be a proper young lady.

"You've had enough fun shopping, young lady," Donna told me. "Now let's
get to work."

Fun? She thought my shopping trip was fun? No matter, a few minutes
later I stood

before her in my maid's uniform.

"Would you take a look at yourself?" Donna shouted. "Haven't I told you
how important

your appearance is?"

I was all confused. I turned to view my reflection in the mirror.
Black satin dress, apron,

white lace cap. "I don't understand, Mistress Donna. I thought you
wanted me to wear this."

"The seams in your stockings are crooked. Your cap isn't on straight,"
she said. "You

have a lot to learn."

Before I could apologize for the grievous crime of crooked seams, she
pulled me over to

a chair and threw me over her knee. She was going to spank me for
this??

"But Mistress Donna, I didn't know any better," I protested. "I'll know
next-"

I felt a sharp pain in my pantied butt. Then she hit me again. I
strained to look, and saw

she was using a riding crop on me. I winced and gnashed my teeth as I
waited for the next one.

"If you say one word you'll regret it, slave," she warned me.

Tears rolled down my cheeks as she hit me three more times. I whimpered
and moaned,

but I didn't cry out. Then just as abruptly as she had begun, she threw
me off her lap.

"Now go fix yourself up. Be back in ten minutes to vacuum the entire
house. When

you're done, you will dust all of the furniture," she said.

"Yes, Mistress Donna," I whimpered, wiping my face with my hands as I
hurried upstairs

to the bathroom.

I redid my makeup, made sure my stockings and cap were on straight, and
ran back

downstairs to present myself for her approval. My butt still ached, and
I couldn't take another

beating. She walked slowly around me, then turned my chin from side to
side. My chin down, I

prayed I had made myself look presentable. To my relief, she just
pointed at the upright vacuum

cleaner. Never had I been so delighted to start doing housework.

The vacuuming and dusting were just to get me used to my new
responsibilities. I spent

the rest of the afternoon cleaning and scrubbing the kitchen and
bathrooms. By the evening, I

was exhausted, and once Donna was gone for the day, I was allowed to eat
dinner. After I had

served my brother and sister.

"Glad you could finally join us for dinner, Alicia," Kathy said.

"I'm sorry I'm late, Mistress Katherine. I was busy with my new job."

"All work and no play makes Alicia a dull dog," she said. "You need to
get out and have

some fun."

"I'm too tired to have fun," I groaned. "And I can't go out looking
like this."

"Oh, but you worked so hard today, sweetie. Why, I was getting tired
just watching you

run around here. I think you owe it to yourself to have some fun."

I eyed her with suspicion. She was being very unKathy-like.

"I think you need to have a date," she said matter-of-factly.

"Mistress Katherine, I can't date anyone. I look like a girl," I said.

"And a very pretty one at that. Why do you think I took you shopping
this morning?" she

said. "Once you get into that little black number, you'll have boys
drooling all over you."

"Ron, please help me," I begged. "I can't do this. I can't be a girl
on a date-"

"She's right, Kathy," Ron said. "She has a lot to learn before she pass
for a girl."

Whew! I was safe, at least for now. I sat back in my chair.

"I didn't exactly say she had a date with a boy," Kathy said with a
grin. "Arcadia wants to

go out with the little ******."

"Ron, I don't think that's such a good idea," I said, my voice cracking.

"And why not?" Kathy said with a huff. "She's my best friend, and
everyone says she's a

delightful girl."

"But Ron, every time Arcadia comes near me, I'm risking my life."

"All right, I've heard enough from both of you girls," he said.
"Alicia, you aren't going out

like that. Arcadia will spend the evening here with you. Kathy, you
and I are going to see a

double feature, so the two of them can be alone."

"Well, it's better than nothing," Kathy said, getting up to leave.

"And if you know what's good for you, ***********, you 'd better behave
yourself tonight," he

told me.

* * * * *

That evening I was all nerves, not looking forward to a date with
Arcadia. Kathy made

me get into my sleazy new dress, and inspected me closely.

"Mistress Katherine, why do I have to get all dressed up for Arcadia?"

"Because I want you to get used to looking your best. I'll give you two
choices. You can

wear this hot new dress, or I take it off you, and leave you here
wearing nothing but ropes."

Not much of a choice. I gulped, and smoothed out my dress. "It goes
nice with my

shoes," I said.

A few minutes later Arcadia came over, wearng a pink sweater and a white
skirt. She

took one look at me, and covered her face as she blushed. "You and I
are going to have a good

time tonight, Alicia," she said.

"I think I'm overdressed," I said.

"Don't worry. We can put that outfit to good use," she said, opening
her compact, "but I

need to touch up your makeup."

She didn't explain herself, and I had no idea what she had in mind.
With my appearance, and her general weirdness, I could only wonder where
this evening would lead. She applied a deep rose blush to my cheeks, and
painted my lips bright red. I checked myself out in the mirror; in this
sleazy dress and overdone makeup, I was just asking for trouble. As soon
as Ron and Kathy left, Arcadia got on the phone. I tried to listen in on
Arcadia's half of the conversation, but it didn't do any good.

"It's all set, Alicia," she called to me as she hung up.

"What's all set? What are we going to do tonight?" I asked.

"We're going to double date. I invited a couple of boys over here for
the evening."

My chin nearly hit the floor. "You did what? I can't go on a date with
a boy!"

"But we've got nothing else to do," she said.

"You need a hobby," I grumbled.

"I already have a hobby," she said. "My hobby is boys."

"But Ron didn't say I could have anyone else over here!"

"Alicia, sometimes it's a lot more fun to break the rules. I know these
two boys, and I'm

sure we'll all have a good time."

"Three of us anyway," I groaned. "And what happens if they figure out
what I really am?"

"Then the boys might be upset with you," she said, caressing my cheek.
"If I were you,

I'd try not to let that happen."

Oh, this evening was going to be one to remember. If I lived through
it. "Who are these

guys?" I asked. "How well do you know them?"

"So that's it!" she said with a devilish smile. "You just want to know
who I'm going out

with. You're jealous because I'm dating someone else, aren't you?"

I gaped at her. This was one strange girl. "What? You think-"

"Look, you may be really cute, but did you really think I could be happy
without seeing

anyone else? I mean, you can go out with other boys, so why can't I?"

"You...you can go out with anyone you want! Who did you invite here?"

"My date is Paul, and he's a nice k**, but your date's a real stud!" she
gushed. "His

name is Carlos, and he's a senior, my school's makeout artist. He's big
and strong, and always

wears a leather jacket."

"Uh, I don't think he's my type," I said. I didn't know what my type
is, but I was pretty

sure Carlos wasn't it.

"But you're going to do whatever he wants, aren't you? If you know
what's good for you,

you're going to make him very happy tonight. See, I'm Miss Prim and
Proper in my sweater and

skirt, while you're one wild vixen in that hot little dress of yours.
So I figure he'll be perfect for

you!"

TO BE CONTINUED

Subject: REPOST:ASV08 Double Date

From: an293603@anon.penet.fi

Date: 1996/08/15

ALICIA'S SUMMER VACATION

by Diabolical

CHAPTER 8: DOUBLE DATE

A few minutes later the boys arrived, and Arcadia introduced me to
Carlos. He was tall

and dark, his long hair slicked back.

"Nice outfit, Alicia," he said.

"Uh, thanks," I said, and flashed a nervous smile.

"Alicia, why don't you show Carlos the house?" Arcadia said. "That way
Paul and I can

have some privacy."

"Yeah, we can start with your bedroom," Carlos said, eyeing me.

I led him upstairs into my bedroom, and he pulled me close. I felt his
strong arms around

me, and as he pulled me against him, my face only came up to his chest.

"Arcadia tells me you're really wild. She said you'll do anything on a
first date."

"Is that all she told you about me?" I asked, looking up at him.

"Is there more?" he said, grinning.

A lot more, I thought as I put my hands on his chest and gently pushed
him away, but

nothing he needed to know.

"Don't worry, I've got protection," he said, and took a condom out of
his wallet.

"Uh, I've got my period now...maybe we could do something else," I said,
licking my lips.

He didn't say anything, but he couldn't get out of his pants fast
enough. I had him lie on

the bed, and climbed up between his legs. His cock was limp until I
started fondling his balls. As I rubbed, his penis started to grow, and
when I raked my nails across his balls he let out a moan. This was a lot
easier when I was allowed to use my hands.

He got hard almost immediately as I took him in my mouth. I flicked my
tongue along

has shaft, and his whole body spasmed and shuddered. In seconds he shot
his load. I licked

his cock clean, and kissed it. I was becoming one efficient cocksucker.

"Alicia, you've done this before," he said, smiling at me as he caught
his breath.

"Maybe once or twice," I said. "But we'd better get downstairs. I'll
meet you down there."

He got dressed and went downstairs, while I wiped my face and fixed my
garish lipstick.

The really gross part was picking the hairs out of my teeth. As soon as
I got downstairs, Arcadia

was waiting for me, and pulled me aside.

"So how big is his cock?" she asked.

This girl had a one-track mind. "Maybe six inches," I whispered.

"Well, I've got some more good news for you," she said, grinning at me.
"The boys are

talking about your performance."

I gasped. "Carlos told Paul about me?"

"What do you expect? Boys talk about that stuff," she said. "Real
boys, anyway."

I just glared at her.

"Don't get upset, sweetie. You haven't heard the good news yet. Paul
wants the same

thing you gave Carlos."

"Your date wants me? How am I supposed to do that?"

"I will admit, it could be a little sticky for you," she said.

I fumed silently.

"Don't worry, I have a plan. I'll distract Carlos, and you can slip
away with Paul."

"I don't know about this," I said, shaking my head.

But Arcadia went across the living room to see Carlos. "Turn on the
Sega," she said,

"we can play Mortal Kombat."

"I don't like to play video games," Carlos said, as he sprawled on the
couch.

"What's the matter?" Arcadia taunted him. "Are you afraid to lose to a
girl?"

"We'll see about that," he said, getting up.

Paul drifted over to me, and as Arcadia started the game, she winked at
us. About a

hundredth of a second later, Paul grabbed me by the hand, and dragged me
toward the

staircase. With Carlos engrossed in the game, we snuck upstairs. Up in
my bedroom, I flashed

a smile at Paul, and went down on him. He was just as horny as Carlos,
and didn't last any

longer.

When we got downstairs, Arcadia and Carlos were still playing their
game, and they

hadn't missed us. Finally the game was over, and the boys started
making excuses about having

to leave. I guess they had already gotten what they came for.

"I'm glad that's over," I said, after the boys were gone. "They never
guessed about me."

"Of course not, you make a very convincing slut," she said.

"Thanks a lot," I said. "Do you have anything else in mind for
tonight?"

"No, I ought to be going home, too," she said, taking a pair of
handcuffs from her purse.

"Of course, I can't leave you here unattended. Hold out your wrists."

I frowned, but did as she said. I held out my hands, and she locked the
cuffs on me.

"Come on, I'm going to put you to bed," she said.

Now what? She led me upstairs to my bedroom, and tied my wrists to the
headboard.

I laid there on my back, bound and still fully clothed, and she held out
a white cloth.

"I brought you something. Open your mouth," she commanded me.

I did so, and she stuffed it in my mouth, gagging me. It had a strange
taste as I worked it

around in my mouth.

"I thought you'd like to clean my panties for me," she said.

I winced and shook my head.

"The thought of you sucking those two boys really turned me on, so I
masturbated in my

panties tonight. I'm afraid they're kind of yucky," she giggled, as she
taped my mouth shut.

Now she tells me.

* * * * *

The following morning I was on my hands and knees scrubbing the kitchen
floor, clad in

my maid's uniform, complete with knee pads and handcuffs, when Donna
pulled me to my feet.

"Is something the matter, Mistress Donna?" I asked.

"Have you taken a look at your hair, slave?" she demanded.

I looked in the mirror, and saw a few stray hairs had gotten loose from
my maid's cap,

and fallen across my forehead. I pushed the hair aside, and said, I'll
fix my hair right away.

"Don't bother," she said. "I have a brush right here. But first you're
going to feel it

across your bottom."

She didn't have to say anything else. I pulled up my minidress, and
bent over her lap.

"This will teach you to pay more attention to your hair," she said.

She hit me a dozen times, beating me until I had to cry out. Finally
she dragged me to

my feet, and lifted me up on my tiptoes to face her.

"If I ever see your hair or nails or makeup isn't perfect, you're going
to get more of the

same. Only a lot worse."

"Yes, Mistress Donna," I sobbed.

From that moment on, I must have checked my hair and makeup a hundred
times a day.

I was paranoid that one hair would be out of place, or my lipstick might
be smudged. No matter

how busy I was with the housework, I always made time to check myself in
the nearest mirror.

And that afternoon, Kathy came home. With Craig. For a while they just
watched, as I

hurried back and forth, doing housework and checking my appearance in
the mirror.

"See what I mean?" I heard Kathy say. "She's such a sissy now that she
can't pass by a

mirror without stopping to primp and preen."

"Then let's give her something to do," Craig said. "We can give her an
excuse to fix her

lipstick."

I stopped in mid stride and turned to see Kathy and Craig exchange
glances. Then

Kathy approached me, unlocked my handcuffs, and then locked them behind
my back.

"You need a break, sweetie," she said. "Why don't you go upstairs, and
kneel next to

your bed with your mouth open until Craig comes up to visit you."

How could I refuse an invitation like that? "Yes, Mistress Katherine,"
I mumbled.

"Mistress Katherine??" Craig said with a laugh. What, is the little
****** your slave

now?"

"You don't think so?" she asked him. "Watch this! Alicia, crawl over
to the stairs."

In dismay I sank to my knees, and swung one of them out in front of me.
With my hands

bound behind me, I could hardly crawl. Ever so slowly, I crawled across
the room.

At least she let me walk up the stairs, and then I had to wait for the
inevitable.

TO BE CONTINUED

Subject: REPOST:ASV09 Fun In The Sun

From: an293603@anon.penet.fi

Date: 1996/08/15

ALICIA'S SUMMER VACATION

by Diabolical

CHAPTER 9: FUN IN THE SUN

A few minutes later I heard Craig come upstairs, and I opened my mouth.
He found me

waiting for him facing the bed on my knees, mouth wide open.

"You know what, ******," he said, unzipping his pants, "I'm kind of
tired, so I think I'll just

lie here and let you do all the work. If you want to suck my cock,
you're going to have to work for it." And he lay on the bed flat on his
back, his hands behind his head, and his cock flaccid.

I pulled myself upright, and leaned over his cock. The corset made it
hard to move, and

I couldn't use my hands. It was all I could do to reach his cock, and
start taking it in my mouth.

He just yawned.

I drew his cock in and out of my mouth, but to no effect. He wasn't
even trying. Here I

was, the ************ girl doing him a favor by sucking on his limp
cock. I had to struggle for five

minutes just to get him hard. Finally I stopped in exhaustion.

"Come on, you ******," he shouted, grabbing me by a handful of hair.
"Take it all in!

Suck me until your jaw falls off!"

I caught my breath, and went down on him again. It took another minute
of rocking back

and forth, but I finally got him off, his cum splashing in my face and
eyes.

"There, that wasn't so hard, now was it?" he asked, getting dressed.

But I had to stay there on my knees until the cum dried on my face
before Kathy let me

go fix myself up. I spent the rest of the afternoon doing the laundry
and ironing clothes. I was

becoming a regular little homemaker. I had just finished ironing when
Kathy waltzed in, wearing

a red one-piece swimsuit.

"Alicia, you've worked so hard today that I've asked Donna to let you
take a break. Put

on your little white bikini with your high heels. Nothing else," she
said, and then added, "and

because you've been such a good ***********, you may cuff your hands in
front of you."

"Yes, Mistress Katherine," I said. Thank goodness for small favors,
huh?

I went out to the pool and saw my sister sunning herself on a recliner
lounge and reading

a copy of Cosmopolitan. She was still wet from having been in the pool,
her hair slicked straight

back.

"Hasn't this turned out to be a beautiful day? The fog just burned off
real late today, so it

isn't too hot, but we can work on our tans together," she said, and
handed me a palm frond.

"Stand over here on my left, facing the sun."

I took the huge leaf and stood as she told me.

She smeared a dab of sun block on my nose and said, "We wouldn't want to
burn that

little button nose of yours, would we?"

"No, Mistress Katherine," I said.

But she shushed me, and held a red ball gag against my lips. "No more
words from you,

************. Now take the ball. I picked it out to match your
lipstick."

"Please leave me alone-" I started to say, but the scowl on Kathy's face
made me think

twice. I opened wide, and she worked the gag as far in as she could,
tying it in place. This

horrible gag stretched my cheeks and mouth out of place, but there was
nothing I could do about

it.

"Now be a good girl and fan me, won't you?"

She was so polite. But then she didn't have to order me around any
more. She knew I

wouldn't dare step out of line again. I obediently waved the frond with
my bound hands.

For the next hour, I fanned my sister, standing on high heels until my
feet ached. The

ball gag made my jaw ache so much that I couldn't help but moan. My
hair was soaked with

sweat, and I felt it trickling down my chest and back, too. The heat
didn't bother my sister at all.

Once in a while she got up to dive in the pool. But she was thoughtful
enough to give me

permission to stop waving the fan while she was in the pool.

Fortunately, by late afternoon the fog was rolling back in, and I had a
chance to cool off.

Kathy must have felt chilly, because she gave me permission stop fanning
her. "Arcadia will be over any minute," she said. "I invited her over to
give me all the juicy details of your date last

night."

Just what I needed. God only knows what Arcadia would do to me when she
saw me like

this.

But she must have heard my moaning because she asked, "Alicia, is that
gag bothering

you?"

I nodded my head as vigorously as I could.

"Would you like a smaller one?" she asked, holding up a penis gag.

It looked like the penis gag had a much smaller diameter, so it had to
be better than this

terrible ball gag. I nodded again.

She untied the ball gag, and removed it. "All right, slave girl. Now
say, 'please let me

suck on that cock', and I'll give it to you. Otherwise the ball goes
right back in."

I worked my jaw, trying to ease the stiffness that had set in. Finally,
she lost patience

and started to shove the ball back in. "Please let me suck on that
cock, Mistress Katherine," I

blurted out.

"Good girl," she said, and slid the penis gag into my willing mouth.
After strapping on

this smaller gag, she asked me to stand on the other side of the lounge
facing her. "We want

your back to get some sun, too, so all of your tan lines will show up."

I walked around and stationed myself as she told me, and started waving
the palm frond.

And that's when Arcadia showed up, in a red-and-orange bikini.

"Tell me all about last night," Kathy said.

"We had the best time," Arcadia said as she sat on the lounge next to
Kathy. "Alicia got

down on her knees for both of the boys."

"I wish we could have taped that," Kathy said. "In the future, maybe we
can work out

some kind of **********era."

And I had to stand there and wave the palm frond as Arcadia filled in
Kathy on all the

juicy details of our date. I thought the girls would never stop
laughing.

"Let's go swimming," Kathy said, "and we can take her with us, too."

I looked up in alarm. She meant me. In the pool. With my hands bound.


"Of course, she can't wear handcuffs in the pool," Arcadia said.

"No, of course not," Kathy agreed, and she took the palm frond from me,
and unlocked

my handcuffs.

Whew! For a minute, I thought they were going to throw me in the pool
like that. I

rubbed my wrists, and moaned into the gag.

But then Arcadia pulled my arms behind my back, and I felt Kathy lashing
my wrists

together with cords. "Those handcuffs would rust in the pool. These
ropes are much better."

I shook my head, and whimpered into the gag as the ropes bit into my
wrists.. They

couldn't do this to me!

"Oh, now don't be such a sissy," Kathy said. "Once the ropes get wet,
they'll loosen up a

bit, and I'm sure you'll be much more comfortable."

And then each girl took an arm, and they led me to the shallow end of
the pool. I spread

my legs, and dug in my heels against the concrete, but to no avail. I
was bound and

outnumbered me, and they dragged me kicking and screaming to the edge of
the pool.

"Now just for being a bad ***********, I'm going to tie your ankles,
too," Kathy said.

They had me face down on the pavement, just inches from the water, and I
screamed

into the gag.

But they ignored my whimpering and begging, as Kathy tied my ankles just
as tightly as

my wrists.

"Now stop whining," she said. "Even like this, you can still do a
dolphin kick."

Mind you, I'm a good swimmer. Very comfortable in the water. I grew up
in Santa Cruz,

a surf town. I've swam in rough water, and I've paddled out on my
boogie board through strong

surf. I even went through the Junior Lifeguard program. But on none of
those occasions was I

bound hand and foot.

"Shouldn't we take the gag out?" Arcadia asked.

"No, she'll just start screaming," Kathy said.

I shook my head. "No, I won't," I slurred into the gag.

"Besides, she loves having a cock in her mouth, even if it's only a
rubber one," Kathy

said. "Why, just before you got here, she begged me to put that gag in
her mouth. Tell the truth

now, sweetie. Isn't that right?"

My sister was so good at twisting things. I wish I could be half as
sneaky as she is. But

she had me, and I nodded my head.

"All right," Arcadia said, "then let's go."

And the two girls pulled me to my feet, and left me standing
precariously at the edge of

the pool as they dove in. I stood there shivering, the ropes biting my
wrists and ankles.

"Come on in, Alicia. The water's fine," Arcadia called to me. Then she
splashed water

on me.

"Jump in right now, sissy, or we'll come out and get you," Kathy taunted
me. And now

both girls splashed water on my legs and chest.

I whimpered into the gag, but I wasn't going into the pool under my own
power. And it

didn't take them long to figure that out. They climbed out of the pool,
and grabbed me. Kathy

took me under the armpits, and Arcadia lifted my legs off the ground.
Now I was airborne and

completely helpless as they laughed and swung me back and forth. I
looked up at Arcadia and

made little squeals and screams, as they counted, "one, two...three!"

They heaved me into the air, and I soared up and then down. I blew some
air out of my

nose just before I hit the surface, sending water splashing everywhere.
A moment later, I got my

feet under me, and stood up. By the time I could catch my breath with
the gag in my mouth, the

girls were already in the pool.

"Shame on you for making us leave the pool and come get you," Arcadia
said. "The air

is colder than the water, and you made me feel chilly. Maybe we should
huddle for warmth." And she pulled me close to her.

I shivered and trembled, as I stumbled in the water. Waist deep water
is hard enough to

walk in when your legs aren't tied together.

"Will you stop being such a big baby?" Kathy said. "We aren't going to
drown you in

three feet of water."

"No, we've got the deep end for that," Arcadia said, nose to nose with
me.

My eyes widened as I stared at her leering face. This girl was just
crazy enough to do it.

Helpless, I squealed as Arcadia pulled me backwards until I was floating
on my back. Then she

gave me a little push toward the deep end of the pool.

Bound and gagged, I looked from side to side as I saw myself floating
out toward deeper

water. I had to stay calm. As long as I didn't panic I'd be all right.
I could float all day if I had to. I just had to breathe normally, despite
the gag in my mouth.

As I drifted along the two girls climbed out of the pool, and dried
themselves off.

"See you later, Alicia," Kathy called to me. "You did say you wanted me
to leave you

alone."

"Bye, sweetie. We're going shopping now with Donna, so you're on your
own," Arcadia

said, and blew a kiss to me.

I looked up at them in horror. They were going to leave me in the pool
all tied up! With

this gag in my mouth, I couldn't even call for help. Helplessly, I
floated along, and saw the girls

pack up and go. My heart started pounding; they couldn't leave me like
this. But then I heard

the car start up, and they drove off.

My heart sank. And how long would it be before the rest of me sank?

TO BE CONTINUED

Subject: REPOST:ASV10 Sink Or Swim

From: an293603@anon.penet.fi

Date: 1996/08/15

ALICIA'S SUMMER VACATION

by Diabolical



CHAPTER 10: SINK OR SWIM

Trying to remain calm, I drifted along and stared up at the gray
overcast sky. But then I

bumped my head on the side of the pool. Startled, my face dipped in the
water, and some got up

my nose. My sinuses burned, and I struggled to get my head above water.
Instinctively, I squirmed and strained against the ropes, but all that did
was wear me out.

Coughing and choking, I finally got some air, and tried to tread water
using just my

bound legs. I was gasping for air, and sucking on the gag, but after a
minute of trying to stay

afloat, I was so exhausted that I couldn't even kick my legs any more.
Finally I managed to flip

over on my back and float, while I caught my breath.

I was lucky to get out of that. And now I was so tired that the next
time I went under I

might not make it back to the surface. After I rested for a few
minutes, I had to come up with a

plan. The girls were gone, and I had to get out of this on my own. I
don't know how much longer

I could last, so I had to try something. I was still in the deep end,
but I managed to turn around

to face the wall. I planted my feet on the wall, sucked in as much air
as the gag let me, and

pushed off.

I sailed through the water, and as my momentum slowed, I did a dolphin
kick with my

bound legs. It gave me enough of a push to make it half way across the
pool. And that was far enough; the water was only four feet deep here.
Slowly, I hopped along the bottom in chestdeep water until I got to the
shallow end and rested. Luckily, the water had loosened the ropes a

bit. No way could I get out of them, but at least the wet ropes weren't
cutting off my circulation.

And that's where I waited for Kathy. A couple of hours later she found
me sitting on the

steps in the shallow end of the pool, neck-deep in the warm water.

"Nice to see you're still alive," she said. "But let me help you out of
the pool; we need

you to serve dinner."

She took the gag out of my mouth, and I shivered in the breeze, dripping
wet. "I could

have drowned in there," I cried.

"Oh, poor baby. You should have that before you beat me, little
sister," she said,

sneering at me.

"Was this your payback, just because I hit you?"

"Oh no, sweetie. I've got something else in mind for payback. Now hop
to it," she said,

and swatted me on my sore butt.

Still bound and shivering, I had to hop across the pool deck toward the
house. And to

think this wasn't enough revenge for her.

* * * * *

After dinner Donna left for the day, I looked forward to some peace and
quiet. And some

rest for my aching butt. But only after I cleared the dinner dishes did
I learn that Sandra was

coming over to spend the night with Ron. Trouble is, she wanted to see
me, too.

Sandra found me in my bedroom, and wasted no time getting down to
business with me.

Moments after her arrival, she had me on my knees, still clad in my
maid's uniform.

"You've become one uppity little bitch, haven't you?" she said. "What
were you thinking

when you beat up your sister?"

"She deserved it," I mumbled. I guess Kathy leaving me in the pool to
drown wouldn't

matter to Sandra.

"And bringing a couple of boys over here last night? I know boys turn
you on, but did

Ron give you permission to have friends over for the evening?"

"But Arcadia made me do it-"

"Trouble is, Ron's too nice to you. Even Donna and Kathy haven' t been
able to teach

you any manners. Why don't you get out of that cute little uniform?"

I was delighted to take off the symbol of my humiliation. But she had
me strip down to

my birthday suit, and then handcuffed my wrists behind me. Naked and
bound, I stood looking

up at her.

"Your skin is so smooth," she said, caressing my arms, and then running
her finger down

my chest to my navel. "But you still have all this hair around that
ugly little penis of yours. Don't you want to be clean shaven all over?"

"But no one ever sees that hair," I begged. "It's always covered."

"Wrong answer," she said. Then she used a small pair of scissors to
trim my pubic hair.

"Please be careful down there." I said.

"Oh, what's the matter, ******? What good is a shriveled little cock
for a girl like you?"

I held my breath and watched her shave my groin clean.

"This is the only cock you need," she said, holding up a dildo. "And I
know just the place

for it. In fact I think you should wear one from now on!"

"No! You can't make me do that!"

"OH? And what are you going to do about it?" she said, and slapped me
across the

face.

My cheek stung, and I tried to clear my head. No sooner than I looked
her in the eye did

she smack me again. Same cheek, only harder. Tears trickled down my
cheeks, and I struggled

to back away. But she grabbed a handful of my hair, and pulled me close
again.

"Going somewhere?" she asked, and slapped me twice more.

I couldn't get away. I couldn't even move to escape the blows that
stung my face. She

squeezed my mouth shut, her fingers abusing my burning cheeks, and
backed me up until I was

pressed against the wall. She taunted me as she stood nose to nose with
me, pulling my hair,

and swatting my cock from side to side. Naked and bound, I was helpless
as she tormented me.

There was only one thing I could do. As she leaned forward I spit right
in her pretty face!

I got her good, too! There was spittle all over her mouth and nose,
even in her eyes.

Her mouth dropped open. She stood straight up, wiping at her eyes. But
she didn't get upset.

"I can see that we aren't making any progress here," she said in a calm
voice. "Wait

right here. I'll be back real soon."

I watched her leave, and then hurried over to the bed. I sat down, and
then swung my

feet up on the bed. I tucked in my legs, and tried to get my feet
through my handcuffs to get my

wrists out in front of me. But I was still squirming and writhing on
the bed when Sandra returned, carrying a large bag.

"Time to stop playing with yourself, ******," she said. "I've got
plenty of stuff here to

arouse you."

"Go away!" I screamed at her.

But she flipped me on my back and started lubricating the crack of my
ass.

"I wasn't sure what size butt plug you prefer, so this one will be
perfect."

I turned to look back and saw a large rubber plug with a bulb attached.
"Get that thing

away from me!" I shouted.

"Don't you tell me what to do, slave girl," she said, and shoved it deep
inside me. Then

she thrust it in and out. "Is this the way you like it?" she asked.

I moaned with each thrust, fresh tears spilling down my hot cheeks.
When she paused

for a moment, I pleaded, "Please leave me alone!"

But then the plug inside me began to swell. She was inflating it!

"Mistress Sandra, please, it's too big!" I whined.

"Poor baby," she said. "Get used to it, because you'll be dating boys
bigger than this

soon."

I sobbed and squirmed, trying to get comfortable with what seemed like a
watermelon

shoved up my ass.

"And now here's something so your mouth won't feel lonely," she said,
flipping me over

on my back, and waving a black ball with a leather strap in my face.

My eyes widened. It had to be two inches across. "But I can't put that
in my mouth," I

protested.

"Open wide and say ah," she said, forcing it against my teeth.

I opened my mouth, and she pushed it in, stretching my jaw. Finally,
she strapped it in

place behind me head. I moaned and groaned through the gag as I
squirmed and fidgeted.

"Now, how does it feel to have both of your holes plugged?" she asked
sweetly.

All I could do was lie there, whimpering and kicking my legs.

"Glad you like it," she said. "Now let me explain the changes you're
going to see around

here. From now on you're going to work in your corset all day. And
you're going to wear fiveinch heels to make you look even sexier."

I groaned in dismay and shook my head.

"Oh yes you are," she said. "And I'm going to connect your ankles with
a 12-inch chain,

just to make sure you don't try to hobble off in that cute little
uniform of yours. But first I've got

another surprise for you."

I didn't want any more surprises. I'd had my fill of surprises by now.
But she showed me

another butt plug. What could she want with another one?

"From the looks of your inflatable plug, you should be ready for this
now."

She bent me over, forcing me to balance on my knees and face. As I
gritted my teeth,

she deflated my butt plug, and slowly drew it out. Fortunately, once
she let the air out, it shrunk

enough that it popped right out. But then she screwed in the other one,
driving it in and out to

make me buck and squirm. It was so big that I screamed into the gag,
but finally I felt my

sphincter muscles close around it.

"This is where it really gets to be fun," she said.

And then the plug started vibrating inside me! It was wedged in against
my prostrate,

and the buzzing was driving me crazy. This was a new feeling, and on
some level it was

arousing me. I felt my cock starting to rise.

Sandra grabbed my hair, pulled me up on my haunches, and stared at my
growing

erection. "So in spite of all your protests, our little ****** likes
having a cock shoved up his ass

after all!" she said.

I shook my head and murmured into the gag, but I couldn't help myself.
In seconds my

cock stood straight as a flagpole.

"We can't have any of that, Alicia!" she said in mock anger. "Bad
girl!"

And then she took hold of my rigid cock, and pulled on it. I screamed
at her, but all that

got me was a slap in the face. My cheek stinging and tears in my eyes,
the erection wilted.

"Now that's much better," she said. "And just to make sure this never
happens again, I'm

going to put this love strap on you."

It looked like a jockstrap, but with a fine wire mesh sheath. She
pulled it through my

legs, and tied the leather strap around my waist. Then she slipped my
flaccid cock into the metal

sheath, and pulled it through my legs, tying it in back of me on the
leather belt.

"Presto!" she said, "no more erection. You'll find that you'll have to
go to the bathroom

sitting down from now on. Trying to have an erection will not only be
impossible, it'll be painful."

Helpless, I could only stare at the perverse chastity belt around my
waist.

"I know it'll be difficult for a slut like you to stop thinking about
sex, and having erections,

so we're going to work on that, too. See, since you spit on me, I
figure you've got too much

testosterone."

The glazed look in my eyes must have told her I didn't know what she was
talking about.

"You little silly, I have to explain everything to you. Testosterone is
very bad. It's the

male hormone, and it makes you act like a boy. I'm going to give you
estrogen, to make you act

like a girl. You'll take one pill every day, and soon you'll start to
act and even look more like a

girl. Why, after awhile, you won't even want that ugly little thing
between your legs!" she said

with an evil smile.

A shudder went through me. Not only were they making me dress and act
like a girl,

now they were fooling around with my body chemistry.

"I hope spitting on me was worth it, ************," she said, stroking
my hair. "Now you'd

better get some rest, because you've got a lot of work to do."

I was ready to climb into bed, but she had one more surprise for me.

"You're going to sleep in this from now on," she said, holding a red and
white lace teddy

up against my chest.

It was a bright red satin heart that covered my chest and tapered to a
point at my groin.

The back and edges were made of lace, and two spaghetti straps went over
my shoulders.

"Where's the rest of it?" I tried to ask.

"It's made of spandex, and one size fits all. You'll look adorable in
it."

She helped me into the teddy, sliding it against my smooth skin until it
fit around me like

a glove.

"Perfect!" she said. "Now get some sleep. You'll need all your
strength tomorrow."

She left me there on the bed, bound and gagged. How was I supposed to
get any sleep

with that damn plug buzzing away inside me?

The next morning, Donna removed my gag and butt plug, and I showered and
shaved.

Yes, everywhere. The battery in the butt plug must have died, and I got
a few hours of sleep. I

looked awfully ragged, and had to do a lot of work to make myself look
pretty. And when I

finished my makeup and hair, Donna was waiting for me with a large pill
and a glass of water.

"It's time to make you into a proper young lady," she said. "I've
brought you a nice big

glass of water. Now take this estrogen pill!"

TO BE CONTINUED

Subject: REPOST:ASV11 Maid To Serve

From: an293603@anon.penet.fi

Date: 1996/08/15

ALICIA'S SUMMER VACATION

by Diabolical

CHAPTER 11: MAID TO SERVE

I swallowed the pill and gulped the water. Then she made me open my
mouth and checked to make sure I really swallowed it.

"You're lucky you spit on Sandra, and not me," she snarled. "If you did
that to me, they'd

have to sc**** what's left of you off the walls! Now get into your
uniform!"

I had to dress as Sandra had told me. I had a corset choking me, my
cock was tied

between my legs, I was perched on 5-inch heels with my legs hobbled by a
chain. My satin

uniform was the least humiliating piece of apparel I was wearing.

After breakfast, Donna was kind enough to lend me a penis gag and butt
plug. With my

hands cuffed in front of me, I was ready for work.

"No frolicking in the pool for you today," she warned me. "You're going
to work all day.

Now scrub the basement floor."

It took me an hour on my hands and knees to wash the entire basement
floor. When I got back upstairs, I was surprised at how hot it was on the
ground floor. It had been nice and

cool in the basement.

Kathy was waiting for me, wearing a towel and a white swimsuit. "I love
your shoes,

Alicia. Those ankle straps are divine."

"Thank you, Mistress Katherine. But I've already turned my ankle on
these heels three

times today."

"There, there, you poor dear," she said, patting me on the head like a
puppy. "I'd think

you were used to having things tied around your ankles by now."

"Yes, Mistress Katherine," I groaned.

"Donna said I should tell you to wash all the windows on this floor.
And then vacuum all

the rugs. They're real dirty again," she said, munching on a chocolate
chip cookie. Then she let

some crumbs fall on the carpet.

I nodded my head. "Why is it so hot in here?" I asked.

"Santa Ana winds. It's a real scorcher today," she said. "That's why
we're all out by the

pool. We turned off the air conditioning since we don't need it. Now
go about your chores,

sweetie. We'll look in on you from time to time, just to make you're
working hard."

Kathy giggled, and headed out to the pool. It was still morning, and
already I had to

wipe the sweat from my brow with my bound hands.

It was early afternoon by the time I finished all the windows, and I
felt like I was inside a

greenhouse. A hot summer day, and I was stuck inside. Sweat covered my
face, the corset

wouldn't let me breathe, and the satin minidress was plastered to my
skin. I dragged out the

upright vacuum cleaner, but I was so tired I had to sit down first. I
knew I wasn't allowed to sit

without permission, but those 5-inch heels were killing me, and I had to
rest.

That's when Donna walked in. "What are you doing, you lazy slave?" she
shouted.

I jumped to my feet. "I'm sorry, Mistress Donna. It's so hot, I had to
rest for a minute. I'll

do the vacuuming right now!"

"I should beat you for this, but I'm going to let you off easy just this
once," she said.

Then she unlocked my handcuffs, and cuffed my hands behind me. "Now get
back to work! I

had better not catch you goofing off again!"

And she left me standing on my aching feet, dead tired, and with my
hands bound

behind me. I fumbled for the vacuum cleaner switch, and sweat dripped
down into my eyes.

Now I couldn't even wipe my face, and I had to work the rest of the day
like this. I found the

switch, and the vacuum cleaner roared to life. I tried to shake the
sweat from my eyes, and I

turned an ankle. With my wrists bound behind me, I lost my balance. I
cried out as I fell to the

floor, but I doubt anyone could hear me over the whine of the vacuum
cleaner.

For a moment I lay there on the floor, trying to catch my breath. I
wondered if falling

down was against the rules? I struggled to my knees, the unyielding
corset preventing me from

bending at the waist. With the last of my strength, I used my wrists to
pull myself up against the

dining room table. Now on my feet, I had to catch my breath again, and
then I teetered over to

the vacuum cleaner, and caught the handle. Then, looking over my
shoulder, I dragged it along

behind me, being careful to pick up all the lint and crumbs on the
carpet.

By early evening I had finished all the housework, and Kathy met me as
the base of the

stairway. My sister and I made quite a contrast. She looked radiant
with her white swimsuit

showing off her new suntan. Me? Half-blinded by my own sweat, I was
completely exhausted,

and weak from hunger because I hadn't eaten all day. It was a safe bet
that I didn't smell too

good, either.

"Finished already, little sissy?" she said, gently tapping me on the
nose. "Now you have

to make all the beds upstairs. And the corners better be perfect, too."

"Yes, Mistress Katherine," I gasped, and trudged upstairs. One step at
a time, balancing

precariously on my heels, tying to keep my hobbled ankles together.
Somehow, I made it

upstairs without killing myself, and minced over to the edge of my bed.
But try as I might, my

waist couldn't bend to let me get my hands on the bed linen.

Finally I gave up, and slumped on the floor next to the bed. I sat
there a few minutes

until Kathy came upstairs to check on my progress.

"Is something the matter, ************? Didn't Donna warn you about
goofing off?"

"I can't do it," I whined. "Go ahead and beat me. I can't bend over
enough to get the

sheets."

"You are so pathetic," she said. "We wouldn't tell you to do this if it
was impossible.

Why do you think we didn't gag you today?"

I thought for a moment. It just might work. I rolled onto my knees,
and crawled to the

corner of the bed. Kneeling next to the bed, I grabbed the sheet with
my teeth, and pulled until it

was straightened out.

"Maybe you're not as dumb as I thought, Alicia," she said with a nod of
her head. "Now

hurry up and finish all three beds."

An hour later, I had crawled and tugged at sheets and blankets, tasting
more bed linen

than I ever wanted to. But I had done it. I slumped on the floor
again, this time in triumph. This

was an achievement in my life now. I was proud of making beds with my
teeth.

But Kathy had one last task for me. She led me to the bathroom, and
make me kneel in

front of the toilet.

"The toilet needs to be cleaned," she said. "The brush is over there."

It was a short brush, with only a five inch handle. But how could I get
it into the toilet

with my hands behind me?

"But I can't reach down there. Even if I sit on the toilet, I can't
reach in far enough," I

pleaded.

"There you go again," she said derisively. "You still aren't gagged are
you?"

So that was it. I took the brush handle in my mouth, and tried to lean
forward into the

toilet. Bet even on my knees, the corset wouldn't let me bend far
enough. I swiped at the toilet

from side to side, but I could barely make it reach the surface of the
toilet water.

"Hurry up," Kathy said, and she kicked me in the ass.

Startled, I screamed and dropped the brush in the toilet. I turned to
look up at her.

"Now what are you going to do?" she asked.

"Mistress Katherine, please help me," I begged.

"Oh, all right," she said. Then she lifted my legs, and aimed my whole
body at the toilet.

"Now let's see if we can't find that brush!"

"Noooo," I wailed, as she slid me toward the water. My face splashed in
it, and then she

pulled me out.

"Looks like you missed," she said. "We'll have to try again."

And so we played 'bobbing for toilet brushes' until I finally grabbed it
on my eighth or

ninth try. Then she took me by the neck, and shoved me forward,
scrubbing out the toilet.

Finally she left me alone on the tile floor, so tired that I was
light-headed. I was glad this

day was over; and at least the water had been cool.

Then she returned . "Sweetie, I know you haven't had anything to eat
all day, so I

brought you a little something," she said, and placed two bowls in front
of me.

"But Mistress Katherine, that looks like dog food," I said in dismay.

"That's right! I went to the store today and got it special, just for
you. Now dig in; it even

makes its own gravy. And when you finish it, I'll let you have the bowl
of water."

I was so tired and hungry I could have eaten anything. I stuck my face
in the dog food,

and started eating. One the one hand it tasted awful, like spoiled
meat, but most of it got all over

my face anyway. Finally she let me lap up the water. I was so parched
I thought I was going to

dehydrate. When I had finished, she sat across from me on the bathroom
floor.

"I'm tired of your attitude, and so is everyone else. If you don't
shape up, every day of

your life will be just like this, only worse," she said. "Take a good
look at yourself, sweetie. You look like shit, and you smell like shit.
Now are you going to be a good *********** or not?"

It was true. Drenched in sweat, I couldn't even stand my own smell.
There I was, bound

and helpless on my knees with dog food caked on my face. I was so tired
I could barely eat, and

my knees and feet ached. And all I had to look forward to was more of
this.

"I'll do whatever you want," I mumbled.

"Speak up," she said sharply. "What's your name?"

"My name is Alicia," I said in a clear voice. "I'm a sweet ************
girl, and I want to

look pretty so the boys will like me."

"Good," she said with a look of triumph. "But I don't want this to be a
hasty decision on

your part, so I'd like you to sleep on it."

Then she dragged me onto the carpet, and chained my ankles to the
cabinet under the

sink.

"Sweet dreams, ************," she said, and turned off the light.

Bound and exhausted in the darkness, not even my own smell could keep me
awake. I

fell fast asleep.

The next morning, I was dressed and ready for duty when Donna made me
carry a

suitcase into an empty bedroom. I could hardly lift it as I minced
along on my hobbled legs.

"There are only three more of them downstairs, Alicia," she said.

"Are these your suitcases, Mistress Donna?" I asked.

"Yes they are, slave girl. I'm moving in here to supervise you
twenty-four hours a day.

Isn't that good news?"

I could almost feel my chin hit the floor. "Yes, Mistress Donna," I
moaned. "I'm delighted. I don't deserve this."

"Since you're been a disobedient ***********, Ron felt that you needed
more discipline. First you brought boys over here at night, and then you
spit on Sandra. But I'm sure I can fix you."

"Yes, Mistress," I said. This was going to be one long summer.

TO BE CONTINUED

Subject: REPOST:ASV12 The Education Of Alicia

From: an293603@anon.penet.fi

Date: 1996/08/15

ALICIA'S SUMMER VACATION

by Diabolical

CHAPTER 12: THE EDUCATION OF ALICIA

I spent the next two weeks learning to be a slave girl by day and a
proper young lady at

night. Every day Donna found some reason or excuse to beat me. Once I
didn't fold the laundry

right. Another time I mixed up my clothes with Kathy's stuff. I
couldn't help it; the underwear all looked the same to me. She solved that
problem masterfully, by purchasing for me a dozen pair of pink panties.
All with tiers of lace, and all crotchless. But no matter what I did, I
always ended up facing the corner, hiking up my skirt, and wobbling on
unsteady heels while Donna tattooed my poor butt until I cried.

* * * * *

One day I couldn't stand any more. "I've done everything you want,
Mistress Donna," I

whined. "Won't you ever stop beating me?"

"You look like you're just going through the motions. Like you don't
enjoy being a slave

girl. And I'm going to keep beating you until you show some
enthusiasm."

"You mean I have to like being a slave in my own house?" I asked in
disbelief.

"You need an attitude adjustment, little sissy. And until you start
acting like a sweet little

slave, I'm going to whip your ass every night."

"I'll do it, Mistress Donna," I said.

Then my sister laughed. "This I gotta see," she said.

Donna turned to me.

"No, I mean it," I said. "I promise."

Fifteen minutes later, I was cheerfully dusting the furniture when Kathy
interrupted me.

She bound my wrists behind me and said, "Craig will be over any minute
to try out your new

enthusiasm. Go up to your room and kneel with your mouth open."

My eyes widened, but I just said, "Yes, Mistress Katherine."

"And you'd better tell him how much you love sucking his cock.
Enthusiasm counts, you

know!"

Soon Craig towered over me, dressed in a white T-shirt and gray sweat
pants. As baggy

as his pants were, they did not conceal a bulge. "Kathy tells me you
really like sucking cock

now. Go to it, ******!"

I knelt at his feet, waiting for him to drop his pants.

"Come on," he said. 'I don't have all day!"

"Yes, sir," I said. Now I understood. I leaned forward and took the
drawstring of his

pants with my teeth, and pulled on it. Finally it came loose, his pants
were down, and his cock

was up.

He was much more eager than last time. I had barely started licking his
balls when he

started moaning. I ran my tongue all over his cock, as I sucked it in
and out, and he came in my

mouth almost immediately. Obediently I licked it clean, and kissed the
tip of his cock.

I thought he'd be happy, but he grabbed a handful of hair and yanked me
to my feet.

"You pathetic little freak," he snarled. "I love to beat the shit out
of ******s like you. I wish I

could tell my friends how I can have my cock sucked any time I want.
But then they'd kill you,

and the party would be over. Where would I ever find another
cocksucking loser like you?"

"Please...please don't hurt me," I begged.

"What do you think about while you're doing housework all day? Do you
daydream

about your boyfriends? About how good you feel when one of them shoves
his cock up your

ass?'

"I'll do whatever you want, just let me go-"

He punched me in the stomach, knocking the wind out of me. I fell face
down at his feet,

and lay on the floor doubled over, gasping or air.

"Yeah, you can go now," he said, kicking me as he stepped over my prone
body. "I'm

sure you're got some dusting you're just dying to get back to."

The next day, my stomach still ached when Kathy got me out of bed bright
and early to

go to Jennifer's salon.

"Wake up, sunshine!" she shouted, shaking me awake. "We have to get to
the salon

before regular business hours."

I thought my hair looked nice, but what do I know about hair styles? If
my sister wanted

me to go to the salon, I figured she must have a good reason.

Turns out she had a bad reason. When we got there, Jennifer unlocked
the doors for

us, Kathy quickly tied my hands behind me.

But Jennifer was bright and cheerful as always. "I've got a surprise
for you today," she

gushed. I've got a friend in the back room waiting just for you!"

"A friend?" I said in alarm. "What kind of friend?"

"A cute ********** just like you used to be. Well, maybe he's not quite
as pretty as you,

but I'm sure you'll get along with him just fine," Jennifer said.

"N-no, I don't think I want to meet your friend-"

Then Kathy grabbed me and shoved me toward the back door. "It's payback
time for the

beating you gave me," she said, "and if you hurt that boy's feelings,
I'll hurt a lot more than just

your feelings."

Jennifer took a firm hold of me and said, "Jeremy's a nice boy. But
he's very sensitive,

so you'd better make him happy or I'll find someone a lot bigger and
meaner for you. I've told

him you're into bondage, but you're a little shy, so he'll have to meet
you more than halfway.

And if you know what's good for you, you're going to pretend to like
everything he does."

Then Kathy pushed me through the doorway, and slammed the door behind
me. Jeremy

was waiting for me, dressed in a T-shirt and bluejeans, sitting on a
loveseat.

He smiled at me, and said, "I'm Jeremy. You must be Alicia; Jennifer's
told me so much

about you."

"Hi," I said nervously. I took a good look at him; he was my age and
size. And he really

was cute, with a brown pageboy haircut that just covered his ears.

"I wish I could dress like that," he said, pointing at my pink blouse
and white skirt. "And I'd

give anything to have long curly hair like you. I just don't want
anyone to know I'm gay."

My heart sank. I was tied up, facing a k** who thought I was gay like
him. My sister had

set all this up, and I had to behave myself.

"I'm not brave enough to play it up like you, Alicia," he said, moving
in on me. "And

besides, my parents would kill me if they found out."

Before I could think of anything to say, he had me in his arms, his lips
planted on mine.

"Come on, open your mouth," he said, "I feel like I'm kissing a dead
fish."

There was no way out of this. My sister had made sure of that. And I
had to convince

this k** I was gay, too, or I'd be in big trouble when I got home. I
kissed him back, our tongues

meeting. He hugged me, and I felt a bulge in his pants rub up against
me.

"Let's not waste any more time," he said, and started unzipping his
pants.

I stood there helpless and resigned myself to giving another blow job,
when he said, "Oh,

yeah, I forgot you like being tied up. I'll help you out of your
panties."

"What-" I asked, as he sat me down, and reached under my skirt to pull
down my

panties. I came to the horrible realization that he wasn't here to have
his cock sucked. He was

going to put it somewhere else, and expected me to like it.

TO BE CONTINUED



Subject: (fwd) ASV13 Kathy's Revenge

From: PupDoesIt <thwhite@capital.net>

ALICIA'S SUMMER VACATION

by Diabolical

CHAPTER 13: KATHY'S REVENGE

"Uh, can we wait a minute?" I asked.

But he helped me bend over the loveseat, and said, "It's all right,
Alicia. Your sister told

me you're shy around new boys." Then he smeared some lubricant up my
ass. I shuddered,

and turned away from him, so he couldn't see my face.

My mind raced. What could I do? I wondered, as I felt his hot breath
on the back of my

neck. What could I say, as I felt his hands kneading my butt, spreading
me wider? But there

was no escape, and I knew it. And then he was inside me. I shivered as
he forced his way

deeper. He wasn't as big as the butt plug I was used to, but this was a
real cock sliding in and

out of me. A tear trickled down my cheek, as he rode in and out.
Finally he shot his load inside

me, and pulled out, breathing heavily. I laid there, bent over the
loveseat.

"Wow, was it good for you, too?" he asked, catching his breath.

I just groaned and fought back the tears.

He pulled me upright, and turned to face me, smiling. Seeing the look
on my face, his

smile vanished. "Alicia, I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"N-no, I'll be fine," I stammered, trying not to sniffle. Being ****d
wasn't bad enough;

now I had to pretend I liked it.

"Good!" he said. "We'll have to do this again some day."

"Yes, I'd like that," I mumbled.

He got up and left, and it took me a couple of minutes to pull myself
together. When I

went back inside, Jennifer and my sister were waiting for me.

"So now you know what's it's like to be a real girl, little ******," my
sister said. "How did

you like it?"

I just stood there, and studied the floor.

"Have you been crying, sweetie?" Jennifer asked. "Why the tears?"

"I'm all right," I said, my voice barely a whisper.

"Good!" Jennifer said. "Because Jeremy thought you look so cute in
those curls that I'm

going to give you a new hairdo for the rest of the summer."

I looked up at last, and mumbled, "What kind of hairdo?"

"I'm going to do your hair all in tight curls!"

I stared at myself in the mirror. "I don't think that would look so
good," I offered.

"Oh, don't be such a stick in the crud. You need to try new things,"
Kathy said. "New

experiences, new boyfriends, new hairstyles. Jeremy said he liked your
curls, and I think it's a

good idea too. Besides, if your hair stays in place, your mistress
won't beat you up so often."

Ah, so my new hairstyle would be functional as well as pretty, I
thought. Very practical,

that sister of mine.

"Her mistress beats her?" Jennifer asked in surprise.

"Oh, yes. At home she's a sweet ************ girl, always running to
and fro in her little

maid's outfit, cleaning here and dusting there. But her mistress is
very strict, and if Alicia has a

single hair out of place, she gets an awful beating."

"I'd love to see that! You must invite me over some time," Jennifer
said, as she led me to

the reclining chair where I had my hair shampooed.

Still bound, I had to lie back with me hair in a sink, which she quickly
filled.

"You'll have to stay in that curling lotion for at least half an hour,
so make yourself

comfortable," Jennifer said.

And so I lay there with my wrists still bound, and tried to fall asleep
with my arms

crushed underneath me. I didn't get to see what I looked like with
curlers in my hair, thank

goodness. Finally, after sitting under a hair dryer forever, they let
me take a look.

My head was covered with bright shiny brown curls. My shoulder length
hair now barely

reached my chin and the nape of my neck. I stared in amazement as I
shuffled closer to the

mirror, looking at my face framed in pretty curls. No one would ever
mistake me for a boy now. I looked even younger and prettier now.

"See, she loves it so much she's speechless!" Kathy said.

Maybe I couldn't speak, but I turned and gave my sister a withering
look.

"Oh, what's the matter, sweetie?" she asked. "You don't look happy at
all."

"Just leave me alone," I muttered.

"Now is that any way to talk to your sister, after she was thoughtful
enough to arrange

your date with Jeremy?" Jennifer asked me.

My date. That's what she called it.

"I think she needs to learn some manners," Kathy said. "Maybe Jeremy's
too good for

her. Can you set Alicia up with someone else?"

"Well, there's Bruno," Jennifer said. "But he's a big guy; he's got an
organ fit for a

horse."

I cringed.

"Sounds perfect!" Kathy said.

"No, he'd probably break this pretty little thing in half," Jennifer
said.

"Then maybe Jeremy could think of someone; he must know lots of other
fags. And you

could go out with two of them," Kathy said, turning to me. She lifted
my chin and made me face

her. "Wouldn't you to suck on one dick, while another boy rams his
stiff cock up your ass?"

It was enough to make my skin crawl. I couldn't help it; try as I
might, I burst into tears.

* * * * *

That night, I had trouble sleeping. Bound to the headboard in my flimsy
red teddy, I kept

thinking about what Jeremy had done to me. How could things get any
worse? Then I thought I

heard a sound at the door. I strained against my bonds for a moment,
and gave up. But then I

saw a shadow move in the darkness. I tried to look up, but a hand
covered my eyes, and turned

my head aside. I felt the soft touch of a girl gently climbing into the
bed and rubbing up against

me.

"Kathy, please leave me alone," I begged. "I'll do whatever you want
tomorrow."

She giggled and said, "You'll do whatever I want right now."

That wasn't my sister's voice. As her hand slid away from my eyes, and
down my cheek,

I could see the outline and features of her beautiful face, even in the
darkness. Arcadia.

"What do you want? Does anyone know you're here?" I blurted out.

"Don't worry, sweetie. I want you all to myself. When we dated, those
two boys got to

share you, and I felt left out," she said, and climbed up on my chest.
"Ooo, I love your nightie;

Kathy told me about it, but I had to see it for myself. It feels so
soft."

"Arcadia, please get off me," I gasped. I could hardly breathe with her
kneeling on me.

But she crawled over me until she positioned her groin over my face.

"You satisfied our dates, but not me. Now you will pleasure me," she
said, and then

whispered, "you don't want me to get mad at you, now do you?"

No, I didn't. Not that I had any choice, as she ground her pussy in my
face. The smell

assaulted my nostrils, but I couldn't get away. She was already wet,
and I licked up and down

every chance she gave me, gasping for air whenever I could. She grabbed
my hair and rocked

up and down on my face, finally hissing like an a****l as she came on my
face.

She leaned back, her lithe body resting on top of mine as I gasped for
air. I lay there

covered with both sweat and her pussy juice, trying to catch my breath,
praying that she'd go

away.

"Now it's your turn," she said.

"MY turn?" I asked, my voice breaking.

"Nothing makes me hotter than seeing a helpless little sissy with pubic
hair stuck in his

teeth. Especially when it's MY hair. And Sandra gave me another toy,
so now I can plug both

your holes."

And as she sat astride my waist, I saw her strapping something around
herself. At last

she got up, and I could move again. I turned to face her, and even in
the darkness, I could see a

shape projecting out from her waist. As she approached me, I recognized
it. She was wearing a

strap-on dildo, a half-dozen inches long.

"Would you be so kind as to roll over on your back, Alicia?" she asked,
putting her face

close to mine. "And then get your knees under you so I can butt-fuck
you doggie-style."

"Arcadia, please don't do this to me," I begged.

She grabbed a handful of hair, and used it to twist my head around,
making me wince. "I

won't ask you nicely again," she said. "Kathy told me how you did it
for Jeremy, so it's not like

I'm taking your cherry. Now be a good little ******, and do as I say."

I whimpered, and rolled over on my back. Then as I tucked my knees
underneath me,

she helped me out of my teddy. And then I felt her lubricating my ass,
sliding a finger in and out.

"Please be careful," I begged.

Her response was to pull my head back, and shove a penis gag in my open
mouth. "I

really don't like to do a lot of talking while I'm having sex, so I
brought along this face fucker just

in case you felt like making conversation."

Now gagged and helpless, she threw me face forward into my pillow with
my butt in the

air, and started ramming her dildo inside me. I wriggled and twisted,
but she kept pounding

away at me. At least Jeremy was getting off when he fucked me; Arcadia
just wanted to hurt me.

With my butt stretched and aching, I whimpered into the gag as she
rocked me back and forth.

As she kept driving it in and out, my whimpers turned to screams.

"Really turns you on, doesn't it?" she asked, breathing heavily.

My muffled screams went on without end. Did this crazy girl really
think she was exciting

me? Tears poured down my cheeks, and finally she gave up, and collapsed
onto the bed next to

me.

As we lay side by side covered in sweat, she turned me to face her.
"You're a bit of a

mess down there, so try not to bleed all over the sheets, will you?"

I just shook my head and cried into the gag. My butt hurt, but the
emotional pain was

worse.

"I really drilled you good, didn't I?" she asked.

Not exactly, I thought. She drilled me bad.

* * * * *

The next morning, I woke up thinking I had hit bottom. Arcadia hadn't
really hurt me, but

I looked like a girl, and I'd been used like a girl. What else could
happen? Then Kathy untied

me from my bed.

"Don't bother getting into your maid's uniform this morning," she said.
"Ron gave me a

couple of free passes to a health club that's only a short walk from
here."

"Should I dress like you?" I asked. She wore a white T-shirt and
shorts.

"Not quite. You know you can't wear pants. Not even shorts for a sissy
like you. I've got

a tennis skirt that should fit you."

I wore a T-shirt over my training bra, a short white skirt, ankle socks,
and thin white

sneakers. Sad to say, this was the most masculine attire I'd worn in
some time. Kathy noticed

that, too, so she made me wear half a dozen bracelets. I couldn't move
without the bangles and

silver bracelets rattling against each other.

"But we're just going to a health club," I said. "Why so much jewelry?"

"Because a pretty girl should make some noise when she struts around
town," she said

with a mocking grin.

"Yes, Mistress Katherine," I groaned.

"And if I ever catch you not wearing any bracelets, I'll give you a pair
of handcuffs. No

matter WHERE we are!"

I swallowed, and off we went. Once we got to the club, our passes gave
us free run of

the whole place. Swimmers went up and down a 25-meter swimming pool,
but the rest of the club was almost deserted. Mid-morning must be their
slack time, I thought, as we were alone outside a weight room.

"You can have lots of fun here checking out the hard bodies," Kathy
said.

"What did you have in mind?" I asked, my suspicion growing. I suspected
she hadn't

brought me here to work out.

"There's a lot of big strong guys here. I'm sure they'd like to get to
know a pretty little

thing like you!" she said, smiling at me as she stroked my cheek.

TO BE CONTINUED

Subject: REPOST:ASV14 Alicia Gets A Workout

From: an293603@anon.penet.fi

Date: 1996/08/15

ALICIA'S SUMMER VACATION

by Diabolical

CHAPTER 14: ALICIA GETS A WORKOUT

"No, Kathy please!" I said, with panic in my voice.

"What's the matter? Wouldn't you like to flirt with some of those big
studs we saw at the

pool?

"Nooo," I groaned looking up at her with puppy-dog eyes.

"What's wrong, sweetie? Oh, I know! I'll bet you're still thinking
about that pretty boy

Jeremy. But wouldn't you rather have a big cock rammed up your ass? Do
you really go for cute

**********s instead of big strong ones?"

"Please, no. Arcadia nearly killed me last night," I begged.

"I'm just trying to find out your type. Do you like Jeremy or would you
rather find

someone new here?"

"Shhh," I implored her. "Someone might hear you! I'll do anything you
want, but not

that."

"Anything? Are you sure?"

All I could think about was my poor tender ass. "Anything, as long as
you don't set me

up with another guy," I pleaded. When would I ever learn?

"All right," she said, and patted me on the head. "But you'd better
behave yourself and

do as I say, or I'll beat the crap out of you every day for a month!"

I nodded my head, relieved at escaping a close call, and she took me
into the weight

room.

"Let's see what we can find here," she said. "Take a look at that."

There were only a couple of people in a room of fifteen Nautilus
machines, and off in the

corner, I saw a tall girl in a gray sweatsuit with her short hair
brushed back. She stood at a bicep

machine, lifting 100-pound weights with each arm.

"She might like you," Kathy said.

"What kind of girl would be interested in me dressed like this?" I
asked, shaking my

head. It was one of those questions you really didn't want answered.

Kathy just flashed that evil smile of hers. "Look at that sweat
dripping down her chest,"

she said. "There's a dyke if ever I saw one. She could tear you limb
from limb."

"You...yo'u're not thinking of-" I stammered.

"I bet she'd like a cute little femme like you!"

My mouth open in amazement, I finally shook my head.

"We made a deal," Kathy snarled. "We agreed that you wouldn't have
anything to do

with boys here. That's a girl over there, and she's fair game for you."

But it was a big girl. A huge girl. I stared at her, and then turned
to my sister. "What do

you want me to do?" I asked, frowning.

She handed me a scarf from her purse. "Tell her you'd like to lick her
sweaty pussy, and

she can use this scarf to tie your hands."

My hands shook as I took the pink scarf. "But what if she finds out I'm
not a girl?"

"That could be embarrassing for you," my sister deadpanned. "Girls like
her really hate

boys. If she gets under your skirt looking for some chow mein, and
finds an eggroll instead...well

sweetie, she won't be happy!"

I took another look at that girl, and then back at my sister with sad
eyes.

"Move it, sissy!" she said, shoving me forward. "And make sure she ties
you up!"

I crossed the room as slowly as I could, wondering if this is how the
male black-widow

spider feels. Finally I stood before the girl at the bicep machine.
She was a teenager or maybe

a young adult, and she had to be six feet tall.

"Hi," I squeaked. "I couldn't help but admire how you work out on that
machine."

"Thanks," she grunted, and did another repetition.

"Strong girls really turn me on," I said, and then whispered, "I hope
you won't take this

the wrong way, but I'd really love to lick your sweaty pussy."

She stepped away from the machine and took a good look at me. I thought
she was

going to deck me right there, but she said, "k**, how old are you?"

"Old enough to be into bondage," I said, offering her the scarf. "I
wish you'd tie me up

and make me do it."

She thought for a moment, looked around, and then said, "Come with me."

She took me by the wrist in her iron grip, and led me down the corridor
into another

room, past a hot tub and showers, and into a sauna room. It was so hot
and steamy that I had to

stop to catch my breath. The room was empty except for several wooden
benches with towels

d****d over them.

"We'll have more privacy here," she said, barricading the door with a
heavy bench.

"What's your name?"

"Alicia," I said, noticing that my only path of escape was now
hopelessly blocked.

She took the scarf, turned me around and bound my wrists, making me
wince. I didn't know a pretty little scarf could be that tight.

"How long have you been doing this?" she asked, dropping her sweatpants
and shorts.

"Uh, long enough to be good at it," I lied, as she sat on a bench, and
pulled me to my

knees in front of her.

"Really?" she asked doubtfully. "Then show me how good you are."

For a moment I stared into the naked bush a few inches in front of my
nose. The mixed

smells of sweat and musk made me want to retch. At least Arcadia had
been clean when she

made me eat her. I wrinkled my nose, and dove in, licking here, and
probing my tongue there.

"Lower!" she rasped.

I leaned forward, and lapped up and down between her vagina and anus.
It wasn't long

before she shuddered, grabbed my face, and pulled it against her moist
pussy as a flood of juice

spilled out. I lapped up all the juice I could, as it ran down my chin.
Oh, what I must look like

now.

"Thanks," I gulped, sitting back on my haunches. "Now if you'll just
untie me-"

"No, thank YOU," she said. "Now it's your turn."

"No, no," I cried, shaking my head. 'You don't have to-"

"I'm sorry I ever doubted you, Alicia," she said, lifting my skirt, and
reaching for my

panties.

Bound and helpless, I tried to get up, but she just gathered me in her
arms.

"Oh, don't play hard to get," she said, and pulled down my panties.
"You'll like-"

And then her face darkened.

"Please don't be mad at me. I only wanted to-"

Her fist in my stomach silenced me. I crumpled at her feet, gasping for
air.

"You little bastard! I don't know what kind of games you like to play,
but you've fooled

around with the wrong person."

As I lay there doubled over from the pain in my gut, she ripped my
panties right off me.

"Please let me go," I gasped as she pulled me up to my knees. "I can
explain-"

"Explain this!" she said, stuffing the panties in my mouth. "I've heard
all I want to from

you."

I knelt before her, trying to speak as I chewed on my panties.

"So you like being tied up, huh?" she asked, as she wrapped a towel
around my face,

covering my eyes and further gagging my mouth.

I could hardly see out of one eye, and all I could do was shake my head
as she tied the

towel in place. She climbed up on a bench, and tied an electrical cord
from the light fixture to my bound wrists, pulling them up, and forcing me
to bend at the waist.

Then she stepped back to admire her handiwork. My shoulders ached as my
arms were

pulled straight upward. My skirt was around my ankles, so I couldn't
even spread my legs for

balance.

"I'm sure you're used to being tied up better than this, but I'm not
into any of that

perverted bondage stuff like you. I have to do the best I can with the
materials I have to work

with."

Still, she was doing a damn good job.

"Like this," she said. "Someone left a towel here dripping wet. How
rude! What do you

suppose we can do with a wet towel?"

I had a pretty good idea, as I whimpered into my gag. I heard her swing
the towel back

and forth through he air, and gritted my teeth. Then THWACK! as it
landed on my butt, making

me jump.

"Do you think there's something wrong with me being a lesbian?" she
asked, and

smacked my other cheek.

I screamed into the gag as tears trickled down my face.

"At least I don't dress up like a guy and try to trick people," she
shouted, and hit me twice

more.

I sobbed into my gag, and sucked on the panties, as she hit me on the
back of my thighs

a half-dozen times.

"How does that feel?" she asked, walking around me. "Now I see why you
pretend to be

a girl. You aren't too tough, are you?"

My whole body shuddered as I whimpered. I'd agree to being the most
gutless wimp in

the world if it would make her stop.

And then she grabbed my cock. "There are times I wish I had one of
these," she said.

"Maybe I'll take this one!"

I froze in place. As she squeezed my cock, I whimpered and tried to beg
for mercy.

Even so, my cock grew and hardened. Then she snapped the towel against
my erect cock. My

knees buckled, and only my bound wrists held me up. Despite the pain in
my groin, I felt like my

shoulders were getting dislocated, and struggled to regain my feet.

"I'm tired of listening to your whimpering," she snapped at me. "Would
you like to go for

a walk, you little bastard?"

I nodded my head. My body wracked with pain, anywhere we went had to be
better than

here.

She pulled up my skirt, and took the towel off my head. But she left my
wrists bound,

and they had begun to ache as she slid the bench away from the door.
She opened the door a

crack, and said, "Looks like the coast is clear."

My stomach sore, my butt and thighs burning, she shoved me outside into
the shower

area. The cool air was a welcome relief, and I tried to ask her where
we were going, but the

panties slurred my speech.

"The best thing after a sauna is to relax in the hot tub," she said,
pushing me toward it. I

shook my head, but she picked me up and sent me flying head first into
the hot water.

I shut my eyes and screamed as I flew throught air and hit the water.
My butt and thighs

were on fire, and water went up my nose, making me choke. Starved for
air, I thrashed

desperately and lifted my head above the surface. Coughing and trying
to spit the panties out, I

finally caught my breath and stood in three feet of water. I cringed,
wondering what would come

next. But I took a peek over my shoulder, and that awful bitch was
gone.

"Looks like you're in hot water, sissy," called a familiar voice.

OK, one awful bitch remained, but at least it was the one who wouldn't
kill me. My sister

leaned against the far wall, grinning at me. I opened my mouth, begging
her to take the gag out.

She grabbed the rail, and pulled me up the steps and out of the hot tub.
"This thing is really packed in good," she said, extracting the tatters
from my mouth.

"Please untie me," I begged. "My wrists are killing me."

"What happened in the sauna?" she asked. "You look like you're in a wet
T-shirt

contest. For flat-chested girls, anyway."

"I promise I'll tell you all about it when we get home," I said as she
unwrapped my wrists.

The flow of blood returned to my hands, making them hurt even more.
Just then, a club

attendant walked in. "Something the matter here?" she asked.

Kathy shrugged her shoulders. "My little sister is awfully clumsy; she
tripped and fell in

the hot tub. I just can't take her anywhere."

"Sorry about the little accident," she said, "but there's plenty of
towels you can use to dry

off."

I dried myself as best as I could, and hurried toward the lobby. I
tried to cover my chest,

my bra plainly visible. Most of all, I wanted to get out of there
before the female Godzilla showed up again.

As we walked past the counter, Kathy stopped to tell the receptionist,
"This is a wonderful

club you have here. My sister and I might get annual memberships."

"Let's GO," I implored her.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Kathy asked. "You're always
complaining about how you

have to stay home all day, and wear that maid's uniform and those high
heels. Would you rather

come here every day and meet interesting new people?"

"NO! I'd rather be a maid," I groaned, as we went outside.

"And so you shall," Kathy said, grinning at me. "I'm glad we settled
that. Now tell me

about that Amazon bitch."

So I had to tell her all the juicy details of my debauchery at the
health club.

I spent the next month as an obedient, enthusiastic ************ girl,
waiting on Kathy hand and foot when I wasn't bound hand and foot. Kathy
and Craig squabbled from time to time, but

whenever they broke up, it would only be a day or two before they
decided to kiss and make up. Or in my case, we would suck and make up..

Donna kept a close eye on me. Every morning she supervised me, paying
careful

attention as I took an estrogen pill, checking my mouth to make sure I
swallowed it. Every day

she made me stand at attention while she inspected me, poking and
prodding everywhere. She

always made sure I wore a corset, and had my penis securely tied between
my legs. Usually my

hands were cuffed in front of me, and a chain hobbled my ankles. It was
hard enough to walk on

five-inch heels; now I had to mince around to do the housework. I was
almost always gagged;

normally a penis gag would do, so I could enjoy the feel of a cock in my
mouth. But sometimes I

misbehaved, and I'd end up chewing on a ball gag all day.

I always wore a collar with a leash attached. The leash came in handy
when Kathy or

Donna wanted my attention. If I misbehaved somehow, they might make me
wear the stiff

discipline collar, but it detracted from my appearance. It covered up
the pretty white lace

chokers they always made me wear. They preferred to use butt plugs when
they needed to

teach me a lesson. Trying to hobble around with a butt plug shifting
inside me was the most

trouble, but sleeping with one wasn't much fun either. At night I was
so tired, they just chained

me to the bed in my nightie. If I went to bed gagged and plugged, I
knew I'd been a very bad girl.

At least they didn't beat me very often any more, now that I had adopted
the proper slave

girl attitude, and I was allowed to eat dinner after I had served
everyone else. I pretended to

accept it all with good cheer, counting the days to the end of summer.
But finally my 13th

birthday approached, which meant the summer was almost over. Donna and
Sandra were

discussing my outfit for birthday party when Kathy came in. I stood in
my maid's uniform with

head bowed in subservience. My hands weren't cuffed, but I kept them
clasped in front of me

anyway.

"Kathy, Donna and I are having our friends over for Alicia's birthday
party. And this is a

grown-up party, so I'm afraid you won't be able to play with her
tomorrow night."

"But I live here. Can't I come to the party too?"

"We're going to tape the party so you can see it later," Donna said.

I looked up in fright. Whatever they had planned for me was going to be
on videotape?

"I'll work the camcorder for you," Kathy said. "I'm promise I'll stay
out of the way."

Donna thought for a moment. "All right," she said, and turned to me.
"You don't mind

having your sister at your birthday party, do you, little sissy?"

I gulped and shook my head. Then Donna and Kathy left me alone with
Sandra.

"Actually we have another surprise in store for you today," she said,
giving me her evil

smile.

I didn't want to know what that might be. But then the doorbell rang. I
looked around to

see if Donna or Kathy were still nearby.

"Don't you think you should answer the door?" Sandra asked.

I looked around helplessly. I didn't want anyone else to see me dressed
up in this

ridiculous outfit. How in the world was I going to explain the leash
and collar around my neck?

But Sandra wasn't going to answer the door. She gave me a stern look,
and pointed at the door.

Off I went like a good little servant to humiliate myself in front of
whoever decided to visit.

I opened the door to find Jennifer. And next to her was Jeremy. Oh,
happy day.

"Surprise!" Jennifer said cheerily. We won't be able to make it to your
birthday party

tomorrow, so Kathy asked us to come over today."

"How thoughtful of you," I lied.

"Wow, you look great, Alicia," Jeremy said, gaping at me. "I only half
believed that you

liked being a slave, but now I can see for myself."

"Won't you please come in?" I said, showing off my outfit, so I could
shut this door before

anyone else saw me.

"Guess what I'm going to give you for our birthday?" Jeremy asked,
practically drooling

at the sight of me.

"Oh, I couldn't even guess," I said. And I didn't want to, either.

TO BE CONTINUED

Subject: REPOST:ASV15 It's Better To Give Than Receive

From: an293603@anon.penet.fi

Date: 1996/08/15

ALICIA'S SUMMER VACATION

by Diabolical

CHAPTER 15: IT'S BETTER TO GIVE THAN RECEIVE

"Alicia, why don't you go play with Jeremy upstairs in your room?"
Sandra said. "And be

sure to share your toys with him."

She didn't have to ask twice. Jeremy grabbed my leash, and we were off.


A minute later, Jeremy had me on all fours on my bedroom floor. "I've
missed you

something awful, Alicia. I don't know anyone else who's as submissive
as you. No one else

likes to play these games."

"That's me, little miss submissive," I offered, as he stuck his hands
inside my panties.

"I'm glad you like being a girl, because I have to be the one on top. I
guess I'm just not

as secure as you are."

Then he lubricated me, and I almost jumped. "Are you all right, honey?"
he asked. The

concern in his voice was plain.

I hesitated for a moment. "Yes, Jeremy," was all I could say.

"Oh gee, I almost forgot how you like being in bondage. Would you feel
more comfortable if I tied you up?"

"No!" I said, almost shouting. "I mean I'm fine the way I am."

And then he started in, sliding his cock in and out, grinding against my
ass. Over and

over, he kept thrusting into me, his groans getting louder and louder.

I wanted to get up and run away. So far away that no one would ever
find me. But no, I

had to stay here bent over, and let him fuck me to his heart's content.
And then I had to pretend

it was good for me, too. Again and again, his body slammed up against
my ass, and finally he

came inside me.

Afterward we sat on the carpet and cuddled together, with him telling me
how much he

had missed me.

"I didn't even get the chance to talk to you the day we met at
Jennifer's place. I'm dying

to find out more about you."

"Oh, there really isn't much to tell," I mumbled.

"But how long have you been pretending to be a girl? And when did you
know you

wanted to be a girl?" he asked, his innocent eyes studying me.

"Uh, it happened real suddenly, as a matter of fact. This summer, in
fact."

"Wow, I can't wait to get to know you better," he said. "I think you're
really cute." And

then he took me in his arms.

Here we go again, I thought. His mouth was wide open as he kissed me,
his tongue

probing against mine. There was no point in resisting; it would only
make things worse.

Besides, he was the only person I knew who didn't enjoy beating me up.
It wasn't fair - why

does the only person sexually attracted to me have to be a boy? I
embraced him, and kissed

him back. Despite my aching butt, I pretended to enjoy myself as he
slobbered all over me.

After enjoying me for a few more minutes, he said, "Alicia, I'd like you
to kiss me again,"

and then pointed to his cock, which was now erect again.

Didn't he know where that cock had been? Even as it grew, I could see
little flecks of

shit on it.

"Um, couldn't you wash it off, first?"

"Sorry, Alicia, there isn't time," he said, and pulled my head down
toward it.

I resigned myself to my fate. I stroked his swollen balls, wrinkled my
nose, and started

licking the head of his cock. It tasted as awful as I expected, but
after sliding him in and out only

a few times, he came in my mouth. And on my chin. And on my neck.

Then he sat back against the bed. "Now you can wash up," he said. "I'd
better be going

soon anyway."

I hurried to the bathroom, and cleaned myself up, taking care to repair
my lipstick and fix

my makeup. By the time I got back to the bedroom, he had dressed and
was ready to leave.

"I'm sorry I had you clean off my cock like that, Alicia," he said. "I
know that was

thoughtless of me, but I just couldn't wait. But next time I promise
I'll let you suck my cock first."

"Gee, thanks. I can hardly wait," I replied.

Downstairs, I curtsied as our two guests departed. Only after Jeremy
and Jennifer left

did Sandra see my long face.

"What's the matter, Alicia? Didn't you have a good time? Jeremy was so
happy to see

you!" she said.

"The matter is he's a boy," I grumbled.

"Well, don't you worry. There'll be plenty of girls at your birthday
party," she said, patting

me on the shoulders. "And tomorrow you'll learn about pleasure and
pain; how they're different,

and how they're the same."

Helplessly, I looked up at her; the evil grin on her face made me
shiver.

* * * * *

But it was Donna who spent the next day preparing me for my birthday
party. First

teaching me to be properly respectful of the guests, and then dressing
me.

By 8PM, I stood with my back against a wall in the foyer. My arms
stretched overhead,

and my padded wrist cuffs attached to a hook above my head. Looking up,
I could only catch a

glimpse of my shiny red nails, because the stiff leather collar
immobilized my neck. My seethrough white dress barely covered my padded
bra and the champagne-colored corset, whose

boning was crushing me. The dress was slit to the waist, and reached
only to my crotch.

For the evening, a pair of black straps with silver studs separated my
cock and balls,

displaying them like the crown jewels through the flimsy dress. Garters
held up my fishnet

stockings, and tugged against my thighs. As I waited helplessly, I
swayed to and fro on five-inch

stiletto heels. The plug up my ass seemed to shift whenever I moved.
Donna had practically

drenched me in perfume, and I found the sweet scent overpowering.

My lipstick matched my nails, but worst of all was my makeup. Once
Donna got through

with me, it made me nostalgic for Sandra's tender attention. I had way
too much frosted lipstick,

more blush on my cheeks than most circus clowns, and if I wore any more
mascara I think panda

bears would want to mate with me. And BLUE eye shadow; even hookers
don't wear blue eye

shadow any more. At least my hair was almost straight now; only a few
curly tendrils framed my

face, and the rest of my hair hung down almost to my fake breasts. Even
so, the red heartshaped charms which adorned my ears dangled in plain
sight.

"Our first guests just drove up," Donna said. "And now for the final
touch." She slid a

black leather blindfold over my eyes. The soft padding blocked out all
the light, plunging me into darkness. I heard the door open, and my heart
quickened. I didn't know who was coming in, and I could hardly breathe in
this corset.

TO BE CONTINUED

Subject: REPOST:ASV16 Party Girl

From: an293603@anon.penet.fi

Date: 1996/08/15

ALICIA'S SUMMER VACATION

by Diabolical



CHAPTER 16: PARTY GIRL

"Alicia, there is a lady to your right," Donna said.

With that damn collar around my neck, I had to turn my whole torso to
the right, and

smiled. "It's nice to meet you, madam," I said.

"And there is a gentleman in front of you," Donna said.

Like a good ************ I faced forward and said, "It's nice to meet
you, sir."

The moment I finished speaking, my head snapped to the side, my cheek on
fire. I had

forgotten to smile at the gentleman facing me, and the slap that made my
ears ring was a gentle

reminder.

"My apologies," Donna said, "he won't forget to smile again, I assure
you."

She was right. After that I would smile every time I thought I heard
anyone come near

me.

"You meant this slave is really a boy?" I heard a woman say.

"Technically, that's correct," Donna said. And then I felt my dress
being lifted. I gasped

as she grabbed my cock, and pulled me away from the wall to display it.
"This pretty ************

is biologically still a boy, but that will make the evening all the more
fun."

I heard them all laugh, and then their voices trailed off as they left
me. And so I greeted

a dozen guests, smiling sweetly for each new arrival, even as I wondered
who these people

were, and what they would do to me before the evening was out. Sandra
was the last to arrive,

and someone announced that dinner was served. Not for me, of course.

"You don't really want to wear those clothes, do you sissy?" Sandra
asked me.

I didn't know how to answer. I smiled nervously. "Whatever you want,
Mistress Sandra."

What she wanted was to strip me. To see the birthday girl in her
birthday suit. Still

blindfolded, I felt her remove my dress, corset (thank God) and bra.
She unhooked my wrists

and bound them behind me. Then she made me hobble on those awful heels,
bumping into

furniture as I went. Soon she took hold of me, forced me down first to
my knees, and then flat on

my face. Quickly she hogtied me, and called for one of the men to help
her.

A moment later, a pair of strong arms lifted me into the air. I gasped
as he swung me

around, but Donna had warned me about speaking out of turn. He placed
me gently on a table,

and I lay there helpless until I felt Sandra stroking my hair.

"I'm sorry you don't get anything to eat tonight, but I did bring you
this to chew on."

And I felt a ball gag pressed against my lips. Like a baby bird, I
popped my mouth open,

and she stuck it in.

"Look at this," she called out. "Doesn't the ****** look like a little
pink piglet with a red

apple in his mouth?"

The room erupted in laughter, and all I could do was gnaw on the ball
gag.

As I lay there hogtied, I heard the sounds of laughter and glasses being
raised. An hour

must have passed, and my jaw ached from the ball gag, but I heard them
start talking about me.

There were lots of conversations all jumbled together, but they seemed
to be turning their

attention to me.

Finally, Sandra addressed me, and undid my hogtie. She got me to my
feet, and folded

my arms behind me. With my wrists tied together, she started wrenching
them upwards.

"I've got your wrists tied to your collar, sweetie, and I want to make
sure it's good and

tight so you don't move."

To my relief she took the gag out, and chained my ankle cuffs together.
While I worked

my jaw to get the stiffness out, she tied my hair back.

"You've got a new pony tail now, and I'm attaching it to a ceiling hook.
So don't think

about running off," she said, and patted my cheek.

I felt a tug on my hair, and whatever was binding my hair went taut. I
tried to get better

balance, and found that the chain connecting my ankles couldn't be more
than six inches long.

"Are you going somewhere, Alicia?" she asked me.

"No, Mistress Sandra," I mumbled.

"Good, because you'd miss all the fun."

I felt her reach behind me, and then my plug started vibrating. I
stumbled and when I

turned a heel, only my pony tail supported my weight. I hissed as I
gritted my teeth, and quickly

got my feet under me again. Again the sound of laughter.

"I don't recommend hanging by that lovely hair of yours," Sandra said.
"I want you to

enjoy yourself tonight. But you almost cried out, so I'd better gag you
again."

My whole body went limp. Not that ball gag again.

But Sandra seemed to know what I was thinking. "I think you've had your
fill of that ball

gag, though. You much prefer having a cock in your mouth anyway, don't
you?"

I felt the tip of a penis gag against my lips. "Yes, Mistress San-" I
said before she

shoved it in my mouth. Then I shuddered as I felt strips of leather
brush against my chest.

"This is a cat-o-nine-tails," she said. "You'll learn to love it."

She flicked it against my chest. At first I barely felt it. Then it
tickled me. Then she

started swinging it harder. But I was used to it now. If she'd hit me
like this at first, I don't know if I could have taken it.

She slapped me across the chest hard now. I gasped and struggled
against my bonds.

Suddenly another whip hit my back. And another my thigh. And my chest
again at the same

time. I had to tap dance on my spike heels to stay upright. The
buzzing of my vibrator, mixed

with the pain of the whips was driving me mad. Then a whip landed on my
half-erect cock, jump-starting my erection. I twisted and strained, blind
and aroused as the blows landed all over my body.

"Look at his little cock, he's getting stronger," I heard Sandra shout,
as though she were

far away.

Lost in my own little world, I felt my cock stand straight up, and I was
past the point of no

return. I felt myself spurting one pulse of cum after another as my
whole body shook and

shuddered. The whipping stopped, and I sucked on the penis gag, trying
to catch my breath.

"I told you this would be fun, didn't I?" Sandra asked, caressing my
face.

I tried to nod my head, and another woman said, "Don't bother the little
****** now.

Can't you see he's busy sucking that fake cock?"

Sandra laughed and said to me, "You won't have to make do with a fake
cock tonight.

We've brought plenty of them for you to try on."

By now I had enough breath back to moan in despair.

"You've had your pleasure, Alicia, and now it's time to pay the
piper...with pain!" she said

with glee.

Getting whipped didn't qualify as pain? I wondered.

"As you know, Alicia is a teenager now. This is her thirteenth
birthday, and she will now

receive thirteen whacks on her bottom from each member of the opposite
sex at the party," she

said. After some discussion, Sandra grudgingly admitted that I was a
boy, and therefore it was

the girls who would paddle me.

"It's just as well," she said, "because that means I get to beat you
again."

Without any further warning I felt a leather strap hit my bottom. My
butt plug still buzzing

away, they made me tap dance on my spikes as I strained and heaved. But
there was nowhere

for me to go. By the time the first woman was through with me, I was
sobbing through my gag.

Then a woman took hold of me, and my blindfold came off. I blinked and
tried to adjust

to the light. Through my tears I looked up and saw Sandra holding me.

"I think it'll be more fun if we can see you cry," she said. "So we'll
leave the blindfold

off."

The blindfold came off, and I blinked at the bright lights, sniffling
and trying not to cry as I

looked around. Then I kept blinking because I couldn't believe what I
saw. A half dozen young

men and the same number of women surrounded me. I stared wide-eyed at
the weirdest people

I ever saw. The women had tattoos, and the guys wore makeup.

Men wearing mesh shirts, high heels, makeup and earrings. I wouldn't be
caught dead

in public looking like that. And the women: Sandra was a model of
decorum compared to her

friends.

In her sensible black rubber minidress, she was the most normal-looking
person in the

room. A couple of the women wore leather thongs and see-through
blouses, or lingerie. Most of

the women wore bustiers or teddies, and nothing else. And right there
in front was Kathy pointing a camcorder at me with a big smile on her face.
And they went on to beat my butt and upper thighs, with Kathy recording for
posterity every tear, every sob, and every twist of my writhing, straining
body.

Finally it was over, and I slumped forward against my leather collar.

"Dry those tears, sweetie, or you'll ruin your makeup," Sandra said, and
then asked,

"Now that the girls are done with you, don't you think the guys are
entitled to have some fun?"

I just whimpered and squeezed my eyes shut, fresh tears spilling down my
cheeks.

"Oh don't you worry, little ******, they're not going to hit you," she
said. "They're going

to give you some well deserved pleasure. So far you've had to make do
with sucking **********s.

Now you're going to try some men on for size!"

And they could hardly wait. If those guys even had a pulse, they'd be
itching to get their

hands on me by now. Sandra took the gag out, and unhooked my hair from
the ceiling.

"But that reminds me," she said, pointing at the floor. "You made a
mess over here when

you had your little accident earlier. Be a dear and clean that up for
me, will you?"

I looked at the splotches of my cum on the carpet. Bound and hobbled, I
minced over

there, and slipped awkwardly to my knees.

"Let me help you, silly," Sandra said, and shoved my face over the
largest white blob.

"Kathy, get a close up of this."

As my sister giggled and knelt next to me, I had to make a face from the
taste of the salty

goo as I lapped it up.

"And smile for the camera when you lick up the rest of it," Sandra said.

My stomach was turning and I wanted to cry again as I heard the camera
whirring. I

licked up the next dot of cum, turned to the camera, and smiled gamely
like the beaten slave I

was.

When I had licked up the last drop, Sandra said, "That was just the
appetizer. Now

you're going to get the main course."

She dragged me over to a hook in the floor, made me kneel, and chained
my crotch

strap to it. "What do you think?" she asked one of the men. "Isn't
this little slut your wet dream?"

A big strong guy with a shock of black hair planted a chair in front of
me. He dropped his

pants and sat down, revealing seven inches of erection.

"Love your makeup," the guy said, and then asked Sandra. "Are you sure
the little ******

can handle this?"

"No problem," she said, laughing. "Alicia can suck the chrome off a
trailer hitch!"

The whole room roared with laughter, Kathy most of all, but I couldn't
do a thing about it.

On my knees, chained to the floor, my spiked heels tied together, and my
arms locked behind me

to a heavy collar, I wasn't going anywhere. No one had to give me any
instructions. Kathy sat

beside me, hardly able to keep a straight face, as I leaned forward
toward a bulging reddishpurple mass of meat.

All six guys had me, and none of them needed any help getting it up.
But all of them

made me lick their cocks clean. I didn't know I could drink so much cum
without throwing up. I

didn't get it all, of course, and more and more landed on my face. I
must have looked like a baby

with food all over his face. Except it wasn't food. My makeup was
beyond repair, but the girls

were nice enough to freshen up my lipstick after every blow job. Sandra
kept telling me how

there's something about having a bright red pair of lips wrapped around
your cock that guys

really go for. And Kathy was there to record every moment.

Finally the evening was over, and I lay slumped on the floor, still
bound. All the guests

had gone, and Kathy turned off my butt plug.

"This was a neat party," she said. "I can't wait to show this tape to
Arcadia!"

* * * * *

The next day Craig came over to watch the tape of my birthday party with
Kathy. I had to

kneel before him on the living room carpet, my wrists and ankles tightly
bound with white cotton

rope to match my maid's apron and uniform. He didn't last through five
minutes of the video

before he unzipped his pants, and dragged my face into his crotch.
Moments later, he spurted

cum all over my face, still watching the video.

Twenty minutes later, he had me again with similar results.

"It's too bad we have to use the camcorder to play back the video,"
Kathy told me. "I'd

love to be taping you right now."

Craig relaxed, having left me with two loads of cum on my face and hair,
and contented

himself with watching the rest of the video. When it ended, and he got
up to leave, Arcadia

showed up. Just what I needed. The ropes were biting into my wrists
and ankles, and I had

Craig's sperm all over my face. As I knelt with my head bowed, Craig
kicked me in the side to

get my attention.

"Hey sissy, you're in the company of two attractive ladies now. Which
one do you think

is prettier?"

"What?" I gasped, wincing from the pain in my side.

"Look, ******, I know you're not interested in girls, but which one is
prettier?"

I looked up to see my sister and Arcadia standing over me while Craig
let himself out.

With all the pain and humiliation they had caused me, this was the last
thing I wanted to think

about. Arcadia had that sweet girl-next-door look, while Kathy looked
older, and had a more

sophisticated beauty.

As they waited, Kathy picked up a gnarled cane, and said, "An excellent
question.

We're waiting for your answer."

I swallowed, and looked at Arcadia. I was horrified to see that she was
idly twirling a

whip around her forearm. "Yes, Alicia, we're getting tired of waiting.
Which one of us do you

think is prettier?"

I gasped, and looked from the face of one girl to the other. Both were
beautiful, but

neither one looked very happy. And no matter which one I chose, the
other one was going to be

disappointed. And me? Somehow, I think I'm going to be a lot more than
just disappointed. It

wasn't a question of beauty any more. I had to decide which one would
be less likely to kill me.

"We'll make it easy for you," Kathy said. "You don't even have to say a
word. Just kiss the feet of the girl you think is pretty."

And the two of them stood over me. Kathy grabbed my hair, and shoved me
face down,

flat on my stomach. Finally I decided that Kathy might torment me, but
wouldn't seriously injure

me. With Arcadia I wasn't sure. I never knew what she might do to me,
and I didn't expect Kathy to leap to my defense.

"You're both very pretty, but I can only pick one," I said, turned my
head to the left, and

kissed Arcadia's shoe. Immediately, she pulled me up to my knees,
smiled, and patted me on

the head. But my sister did not seem as happy. The veins bulging in
her neck were probably a

good indication that she was not pleased with my decision.

"I think I'd better leave you two alone now," Arcadia said. "I'll come
back and watch the

video of the birthday party later." She tousled my hair and left.

That left just the two of us. With me bound and helpless at my sister's
feet.

TO BE CONTINUED

Subject: REPOST:ASV17 Summer's End

From: an293603@anon.penet.fi

Date: 1996/08/15

ALICIA'S SUMMER VACATION

by Diabolical

CHAPTER 17: SUMMER'S END

When I'm dressed up, I can pass for a girl without any trouble. My
corset and padding

give me a nice shapely figure. I wear earrings and jewelry and I'm
learning to walk and carry

myself like a girl. My wardrobe of frilly clothes is growing, as is my
hair - almost as long and soft as my sister's. My face is prettier than
most girls, and I'm very good at making myself up now. My cock is almost
always tied between my legs to avoid any telltale bulge. And I don't even
want to think about what those estrogen pills are doing to me. But no
matter how much I look like a girl, that doesn't mean I understand them.

A few months ago (back when I still looked like a boy), if anyone told
me that another

boy was better looking than me, it wouldn't have mattered to me.
Apparently, girls take their

looks a lot more seriously than boys. I found that out after Arcadia
left. I had no idea that my

opinion mattered to Kathy so much; but she demonstrated that to me at
great length.

I tried to tell her she was pretty, and that I was afraid of what
Arcadia might do to me, but

she slapped me across the face to silence me.

"Another word out of you, and I'll mess up that pretty face of yours for
good," she snarled

at me.

I didn't say another word. My cheek burning, I knelt silently as she
hogtied me.

Thankfully, she didn't tie me very tightly. There was plenty of slack
in the ropes, so I figured she

wasn't really mad at me. Then she picked up the wooden cane! Face
down, I tried to turn my

head to follow her as she walked around, my vision riveted on the cane.

"Don't worry, you little bastard. I'm not going to hit you with this,"
she said, kneeling

beside me with her face close to mine. "Unless you want me to."

I let out a sigh of relief. Why would I ever want to get hit with that
thing? Then she

slipped the cane under the rope binding my ankles and wrists, and
hoisted it. My shoulders ached as my arms were forced upward. But the
worst was yet to come; she started twisting the

rope.

The ropes tightened around my wrists and ankles as she twirled the cane.
"How does

that feel, you little ingrate?" she asked. "Oh, I forgot! You're not
allowed to speak, are you?"

I gritted my teeth as the ropes bit my wrists. After a couple more
twists I had to cry out.

"Mistress Katherine, please stop!" I begged. "You'll leave marks on my
wrists, and school starts

next week."

"Would that embarrass you, little ******?" she sneered at me. "Don't
you want the other

k**s to know what you are?" And she twisted the cane again.

"No!" I groaned.

"But honesty is the best policy, sweetie. Don't you want everyone to
know you're a

kinky, perverted, cocksucking slut?"

"No," I begged as I struggled against the ropes. "Please untie me
before I get bruised."

"You're so talkative, Alicia. I thought you knew better than that," she
said, giving the

cane another twist. "Do I have to gag you?"

Tears trickling down my face, I begged her to let me go. Finally she
relaxed the tension

on the ropes a bit, giving me a chance to breathe.

"I'll give you a choice," she said. "I can use this cane to twist you
up like a pretzel, or I

can use it to beat your ass. Which would you prefer?"

By now I was covered with sweat, my heart pounding. I didn't have time
to think clearly,

but it didn't matter. I didn't have a choice, and she knew it. "You
can use the cane to beat me," I

whispered.

"Are you sure, sweetie?" she asked. "If you are, then ask me nicely. I
don't want there

to be any misunderstanding when I whip your ass."

"Please beat me, Mistress Katherine," I moaned.

* * * * *

I lay in bed that night face down in my wrist and ankle cuffs. Kathy
had beaten my upper

thighs and butt so badly that I had cried for hours. Even now the pain
kept me awake. But at

least she hadn't left any marks on me. At least none that would show.
My butt would wear the

imprint of her cane for the next few days. But I wouldn't have to go to
school with big red welts

on my wrists.

All I had to do was survive another week, and the summer would be over.
And surely my

birthday party was the worst of it. From here on it would be all
downhill, I hoped. But then the

door opened. I tried to turn, to look over my shoulder. And then she
was on me, her hair spilling

over my shoulders and the back of my neck. A pair of hands unbuckled my
gag, and I spit it out.

What did my sister want now?

She grabbed my shoulders, and turned me over. I winced as my sore butt
hit the sheets.

"Did you miss me?" she whispered.

"Arcadia!" I gasped, recognizing her. She wore only a T-shirt and
shorts. "Does anyone

know you're here?"

"My mom said I could sleep over. After all, why should she mind if I
stay over with the

two girls next door?"

"No reason at all," I said, my voice cracking, as she climbed on top of
me. My poor butt

and thighs burned, as I felt Arcadia's full weight resting on my chest.
What else could happen to

me today?

"You said I was beautiful. Did you really mean that?" she asked,
tracing my cheek with

her finger.

I nodded my head.

"I'll bet Kathy was a little upset over that," she said.

"Maybe more than a little," I agreed.

"Then you deserve a reward, don't you think? I mean if you got beat up
just because

you said I was prettier than your sister, the least I could do is make
it up to you."

Oh, no! Heaven only knows what she had in mind. "No, please. I
wouldn't think of it.

You don' t need to do anything to me. I mean FOR me. I'm fine here,
really. I'll just go to sleep

now-"

"I don't think so," she whispered, squeezing my mouth shut.

I gazed up at her; in the dim light she was even more beautiful. If
only she weren't crazy.

She let go of me, and got on her hands and knees; then she lay on top of
me, face to face. Her

warm body rested on top of mine, her breasts pressing against my chest,
her face nuzzling

against mine; this was a heck of a time to be bound and helpless. The
scent of her, the feel of

her soft but firm body against mine; she could tease and torment me in
ways Kathy never could.

Finally I tried to speak, but she smothered my mouth with a wet kiss.
And then another,

with her tongue probing my mouth. My instincts took over. I kissed her
again, and I felt my cock harden. She must have felt it too, because even
as we kissed, she reached down and grabbed hold of my penis.

Suddenly, I came back to reality, and she had my full attention. Taking
firm hold of my

cock has a way of doing that to me.

"Does it still work?" she asked. "You've been a girl for so long now.
Those pills you've

been taking..."

"It's hard, isn't it?" I said, calling on the last remnants of my male
pride.

"Kathy showed me the video of your party tonight. Wimps like you really
turn me on, you

know that?" she cooed. "I dream about having a helpless little runt in
my power."

I wanted to scream for help, but I was afraid even to speak. She could
choke me before

I got my mouth open. But then she kissed me again, and I felt her
breasts against me. Her

nipples were as hard as erasers! This was getting out of hand; she
bounced up and down on

me, and then flung her shorts across the room!

"What...what?" I stammered.

She didn't answer, and burrowed her face past my chin, across my neck.
My penis was

rock hard now; I was as aroused as I was scared.

"Arcadia, what are you-" I started to say, and then winced in pain. She
had bitten the

side of my neck.

"Shut up!" she rasped, tightening her grip on my penis. I lay there
afraid to move, and

she placed my cock against her groin. I swallowed deeply; whatever she
wanted to do, I could

only go along for the ride. Her pussy was so wet that I slid inside
her, and she ground her hips

against me.

This wasn't how I hoped to lose my virginity, bound and helpless with a
girl on top of me.

But it was out of my hands now, as she wrapped her legs around me. I
grabbed the straps that

bound my wrists, and strained against them. As I came inside her, she
sank her teeth into my

shoulder. Crying out from pain and passion, I drowned out her grunts as
I shot one load after

another into her.

Finally she collapsed on top of me, both of us covered in sweat. "Not
bad," she said, as

she admired the teeth marks on my shoulder. "You may have some use
after all."

"Thanks," I gasped. I was still alive. Even so, I wasn't sure I wanted
to take my chances

with her again.

* * * * *

But the next day, things were back to normal. Kathy made me wear
Arcadia's pink dress,

and dragged me down to the salon.

"What would you like me to do with her?" Jennifer asked my sister.

"Sweetie, I think you'd look nice with bangs, don't you?" Kathy asked.

"I...I don't know-" I started to say, and Kathy pulled out a black magic
marker.

"Since you think Arcadia's prettier than me, I figure it must be her
hairstyle that you like

so much. Now hold still," she said, and started writing on my forehead.

A few seconds later she was done. She stood back to admire her
handiwork, and

Jennifer giggled. I turned to look at myself in the mirror. There were
three two-inch high letters

on my forehead. Even backwards in the mirror, I could read it in a
glance. My forehead said

"FAG" in great big black letters.

"Now about that new hairstyle of yours?" Jennifer asked.

"Please make my hair cover this," I begged.

And so Jennifer cut my hair in straight bangs. My hair was so long that
no one would

ever mistake me for a boy, no matter what clothes I wore. Now all I had
to do was make it home

alive so I could wash my forehead. All it would take was one gust of
wind for me to proclaim my sexual orientation to the world. But even as I
walked home, with my sister exhorting me to toss my hair in the breeze, I
took comfort that it was the end of August, and the worst summer of my life
was nearly over.

When we got home, Kathy made me show off my forehead for Ron.

"I guess it pays to advertise," he said with a laugh. "Are you the
poster fag for Gay Pride

Month?"

"May I please wash this off, Mistress Katherine?" I asked.

"You can try, ******, but that's an indelible marker. And if you're a
bad ***********, I'll have

that tattooed on your forehead."

"Yes, Mistress," I said. I turned to leave, but Ron pointed at two
large boxes on the living

room floor.

"Wait a minute. Ladies, I've enrolled both of you in a private school.
The same one Craig and Arcadia attend. These are your school uniforms."

I opened the first box and found pink blazers, and red and white plaid
skirts. "This one

must be yours," I said to Kathy, and bent over the other box.

She just grinned and shook her head. I didn't understand until I opened
the other box

and found more skirts and blazers.

"That one WAS yours, sweetie," she said, rubbing my back.

"You can't mean..." I said, as I felt all the blood drain from my face.

"I have enrolled Kathy and Alicia Peterson in school," Ron said.
"Explain it to her,

Kathy."

As Ron left, I stood dumbfounded, staring at a plaid skirt.

"I can't," I said. "I can't go to school as a girl. I thought this was
just for the summer."

"And let that cute haircut go to waste after only a few days?" she
asked, stroking my hair.

"No, I want the boys at school to think you're pretty."

"They'll kill me, and you know it," I groaned.

"Not if they think you're a pretty girl. Why do you think Donna went to
all the trouble of

teaching you how to act like a proper young lady? And if you keep
taking those estrogen pills,

you might grow a little pair of breasts soon. See, we've done a lot of
planning for this."

"You..you mean you were going to do this to me all along?"

"I always wanted a little sister," she said with a smile. "And now my
little sister is going

to make some new friends at school. Craig has a lot of friends who'd
love to meet you."

"Noooo," I moaned.

"Yeees," she said, mocking me. "And don't forget about your little
boyfriend Jeremy.

We'll have to have him come over and visit; he really got a kick out of
you in your French maid

outfit."

"No, please-"

"Of course, you have to wear the school uniform, but after school you'll
come straight

home and change into your maid's uniform to do all the cooking and
cleaning. Donna will see to

that."

"I can't do this, it's too much," I said, starting to cry.

"Between school and being my slave girl, I'm afraid you won't have much
time for a

social life, but I imagine Arcadia will be coming over all the time, and
you know how much Craig loves to see you."

I put my head in my hands and whimpered, tears running down my cheeks,
and she took

me in her arms.

"There, there, little s*s. Arcadia gave you one last night as a boy.
Now why don't you try

on that uniform for me?" she said, smoothing out my bangs. "I think
it'll match your red ball gag,

and you'll look so cute once you're hogtied in our new school colors."

THE END

And so Alicia's summer vacation ended not just with her hair in bangs,
but also

whimpering. OK, it's not much of a literary allusion. Our story ends
with a feminized 13-year-old boy facing the prospect of pretending to be a
proper young lady at school,

while he lives as a slave girl at home. It sounds like the year ahead
promises even more

adventures for Alicia.

But that, dear reader, is another story. Comments, high praise, and
even criticism are

welcome. My apologies for the poor formatting of the text - when I cut
and paste, I get lots of

carriage returns where I don't want them. But, if your response is
favorable, I'll write a sequel.

Next summer. One story a year is plenty for me. Those of you who have
been reading a.s.s for

awhile may remember last year's effort - Johnny's Punishment. The
feedback I received after

that story led to this one. I hope you have all enjoyed it.

Regards,

Diabolical























From user23@primenet.com Thu Feb 06 16:40:04 1997
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.tg
Subject: Lisa's TG Library: "A Boy's Bra Training and Discipline"
From: user23@primenet.com (Lisa Blades)
Date: 6 Feb 1997 14:40:04 -0700

BBT.TXT

A Boy's Bra Training And Discipline

by Marlissa



How did it happen? Gosh, it was four years ago. Well I could start by
saying that I knew it would be him. As soon as he walked into my summer
school class, I just knew he would be the one. Dino Fazio thought he
was God's gift to women, including me, his remedial English teacher.
Not that he was offering himself over. He made it clear that Meg Hardy
didn't pass muster.

"What was that Mr. Fazio?" I was beet red at the comment he'd just
expressed loudly in the back of the room.

He sat there in his leather jacket and sneered. That he was so good-
looking made it worse. He wasn't tall being only 5' 6", but his dark
good looks, big brown eyes, high cheekbones, long straight black hair
and soft, flawless olive skin more than made up for differences in
height.

"I just said I don't like fried eggs." He stared back fiercely, daring
me to contradict him.

But that hadn't been what he had said. What he had said loudly enough
to be heard by the twenty other fifteen year olds was "Check out Miss
Fried Egg Tits up there." The other k**s had laughed loudly at my
humiliation, double so because my blush admitted that I had heard it
too. Our eyes meet and I relented.

"Please keep your comments to yourself," I replied.

He didn't answer. Instead he looked around at his fellow teenagers,
nodding as if to say that he had met the enemy and she was his. Jed
Taylor and Frankie Farino, two fellow thugs-in-training, smirked back,
as did Samantha King and Beth Simpson, both bustier at fifteen that I
would ever be. Young Master Fazio was obviously trying to score points
with the other k**s and it was working. They giggled and whispered back
and forth the whole class and I was too mortified to say anything about
it.

I busily filled the board with sentence parsing for the remainder of the
class, until mercifully the bell rang. He waited till the other k**s
had filed out. Then as Dino passed by my desk, he leaned over and
whispered in my ear.

"Try a push-up tomorrow. Maybe I'll be able to figure out if you're
really a boy or a girl."

He uttered this trash with such steeliness that for a minute I was
scared, really scared. He left without another word and I stayed in the
empty classroom shaking like a leaf.

When I got home I poured myself a glass of wine and thought about the
problem. Here I was, my first day on my first teaching job and a boy
ten years younger than me had taken control of my classroom. And I
wasn't even into the regular school season yet. I had hoped the three
month summer remedial classes would acclimate me to a full teaching
schedule. What had I done to Dino Fazio? I wondered bitterly. Nothing.
I had done nothing to this k**. He was so resentful of having to take
this remedial class that he was making my life miserable-- by referring
to the one area of my anatomy that I was still self-conscious of.

Look, I don't have any illusions about myself. I'm not a super model.
But I am good-looking. Friends tell me that if Sigourney Weaver had
short bright red hair, she'd look like me and that sounds right. I have
pale skin and freckles-- curse my Irish forefathers!-- and bright green
eyes. I'm in good shape and stay that way by running three miles every
day. And as Dino shared with the class, I'm not exactly 'built,' though
he had exaggerated and turned a 34B into a 32AAA. Anyway, I know I have
a lean and mean figure that, in a pair of Guess jeans has turned more
than its share of male heads.

Which was another depressing topic. I drank more of the wine as I
contemplated my new job situation. I had tried not to think about it,
but now as I wallowed in self-made misery, I rolled it over again. What
would I do with my love life? This wasn't the usual self-pity single
gals resort to. I knew I could go out a find a guy. The word was that
there were several eligible bachelor teachers on staff at Bentson High
that would be returning to the school in September. But what good did
that do me? You see, I'm a lesbian. And actively lesbian teachers at
suburban Florida high schools aren't very popular with school boards--
not in the land of Anita Bryant anyway.

So there I was, in a strange town, already tormented by a little creep
on the first day and desperately lonely for some feminine companionship.
I remembered that night was the longest of my life since the death of my
parents when I was a sophomore in college. I couldn't imagine how
anything would get any better, ever. But it did, and not long after.

The next day I arose with the determination to do something about the
Fazio k**. Luckily he wasn't in class. Normally skipping the second
day would have annoyed the hell out of me, but I was just grateful not
to have to face him. His cohorts, Jed, Frankie, Samantha and Beth, kept
their chatter down to a rude if manageable rumble. Without their
ringleader, they didn't have the nerve to cross me openly.

After class, I checked in with Mr. Temple, the principal. He had hired
me and we got along well. I had the sense that he sort of thought of me
in a daughterly way, as he had gone out of his way to help me settle in
Bentson. My request for information about Dino Fazio elicited only the
mildest interest.

"Problem with the boy Meg?" he asked sympathetically. He pulled out the
file and nodded. "Looks like he recently moved here, right after the
school year was over. Was in," his eyes widened, "the state juvenile
facility for carjacking!" He pulled his glasses down and looked up
intently at me through his pince nezs. "Be careful with this one Meg.
He's trouble." Then continuing to scan the file, he concluded "If he
wants to go on as a sophomore in September, he's got to get at least a C
in your remedial English class. Looks like he's stuck with you and
probably resents it. Meg, he's a new k** in a new town out to score
some points against a new teacher. It's going to happen from time to
time. I'm sorry it has to hit you so soon. Even in Bentson, there are
these bad k**s."

I thanked him and assured him I could handle it. I left the empty high
school jumped in my car and headed toward the address in Dino's file. I
didn't have a plan really, but I was curious about how this k** lived.
Maybe I could talk to his parents, try to get their help in curbing him
a little.

As soon as I arrived at the trailer park on the edge of town, I knew my
chances of getting help were far less than even. The trailer listed as
Dino's address wasn't just run-down, it was filthy in a way that gives
benign neglect a good name. the place was a sty. There were the hulks
of at least four cars up on blocks in the front yard, piles of
uncollected stuffed garbage bags, dozens of Old Milwaukee cans rolling
round on what passed for a front lawn, and a huge tv antenna that
sprouted from the top of the dirty white trailer.

I knocked on the door. An older man in a gray-once white tee shirt and
oil splotched work pants shook himself out of a one man snoring contest.
He looked at me with suspicious, narrowed eyes. He weighed about three
hundred pounds and reeked of beer.

"Wuz you want?" he demanded.

I told him and asked if I could come in to talk about Dino. He didn't
invited me in, but didn't tell me to leave when I opened the fly-
speckled screen door.

The inside of the trailer made me long for the fresh exuberance of the
front yard. The place was a dump, pure and simple. I found a perch on
an ancient legless sofa.

"Dino, he my neff-yew, y'all unnnerstan? His ma and pa done run off--
bills yew know. And the boy come to stay heah after he got out of the
Reformatory. He come and go-- I don't care. Some day I'll get up and
he'll be gone-- wouldn't surprise me. Ain't my problem. I got other
problems-- I'm on the Disability." He took a draw on a can of Old
Milwaukee and looked at me, clearly uninterested in his nephew's goings
on.

His disability looked self-induced to me, but I nodded. "Look, Dino
needs to buckle down. His reading skills are below par."

With that, the uncle laughed. "Dino reads alright, Missy, see hare?
All them magazines he likes is all over." He pointed to a stack of
glossy girlie magazines with such gorgeous names as "Bra Busters,"
"40dds" and "Hot Tips."

I shook my head in disgust and left without another word. Behind me the
fat old drunk man continued to drink and laugh. So much for help there,
I thought despondently. Now what?

That evening I did the only thing I could think of. I called up Diana
Weston, my best friend from college. I hadn't talked to her since her
wedding three months ago.

"Weston residence," the high pitched voice answered, "May I help you?"

Polite, respectful and demure, just the way Diana liked it, I thought.
"Ginger, this is Ms. Hardy. Put your mistress on the phone."

"Yes, Ma'am, at once Ma'am!"

Diana picked up a minute later. Before she could speak, I complimented
her on Ginger's phone comportment. "He's very sweet, Diana. You've
trained him so well!"

She responded with her wry low laugh. "Yes, well once George Fielding
came back from the Honeymoon, he had to be taught that those dress-up
games on our wedding night weren't just games-- they were the way things
were going to be. Little Georgie girl here whined a bit when I made him
change his last name to Weston. And he put up a fight when he was told
he was going to stay home and keep house for me, just like a good lil
househubby. And he needed some good old fashioned discipline when he
was rechristened 'Ginger.' But he seems to be accepting his new role
quite nicely now. Anyway, honey, how are you? How's the new job
going?"

"That's why I called. I need your help with a problem. I thought since
you're in the Society--"

Diana cut me off. "Please, Hon, you know all references to the Society
need to be made in person. And if you're talking about what I think
you're talking about, you should come over at once."

An hour later I was there. Ginger Weston, nee George Fielding, opened
the door. I couldn't believe the transformation. He had been the class
president and head of the biggest frat at our college. At the wedding
he looked every inch the man-in-control as he swept Diana away in the
limo. Little did anyone know except for Meg, that Diana had very
definite ideas about how male spouses were supposed to act.

Poor George. Now he stood wearing a silk champagne negligee and high
heeled mules, his long dyed platinum blonde hair cascading seductively
over the spaghetti straps of the lingerie and his bare shoulders. His
skin was smooth and made-up, as were his eyes. His long nails were
painted a garish red. If I didn't know better and except for the flat
chest, I might have thought that the person greeting me was George's
younger sister. But of course it wasn't. It was George now transformed
into Ginger.

"Hello, Ginger."

He looked sheepishly up. Like Diana's other close friends, we had known
George before she had trained him. The knowledge embarrassed him
acutely.

"Hello, Ms. Hardy. Uh, please follow me."

Ginger led me to the living room, where Diana was listening to music.
She rose and greeted me with a big hug. Marriage agreed with her--
especially the kind she had planned on. She was comfortably at ease in
a flannel gown, so unlike the sexy frilly thing her husband wore. Diana
had a warm confident glow, the kind that no doubt attracted George to
her to begin with. She had an angular sharp featured face that made her
hard to forget, a look that was emphasized by the modish short pixie
cut of her dark brown hair. Diana was thoroughly heterosexual, though
of the female-controlled variety, and her looks were too hard for me,
though she was an attractive woman. Since my tastes run more to the
feminine, so-called lipstick lesbian range, there had never been the
slightest sexual undertow in our relationship, which made it all the
more comfortable. We both accepted each other's choices.

"Ginger, be a doll and fetch Meg a drink."

As the feminized househubby minced off to obey his mistress'es command,
we exchanged glances and began to laughed simultaneously. Three months
disappeared in thirty seconds.

"God, it's good to see you!"

I took the drink Ginger returned with and Diana gave him a pat on his
butt.

"Isn't he a sexy thing? Ginger, you'd be bored by all this confusing
women's talk. Why don't you be a pet and go warm up our bed?" Diana
winked at me. "Just think about all the things I'm going to do to you,
doll face. That ought to get you hot and bothered." She dismissed him
with a slap on his butt and he scampered up the stairs obediently.

"Now, what's this about the Society? Tell me why you're interested in
the Black Rose Society all of a sudden."

I proceeded to tell her all about Dino Fazio, then as the wine took
hold, I began to admit just how unhappy I was. The trickle which had
begun with Dino Fazio now turned into an emotional torrent. She
listened carefully and patiently. She had known about my sexual
proclivities since college and if she didn't share them, she at least
sympathetically. Finally she asked why I had brought up the Society
after such a long time.

I wondered myself. Diana had told me of her membership in this ultra-
secret organization while we were in college. At first I thought it was
some kind of sorority, but there was never any mention of it. Later she
shared the Society's mission with me.

"The idea is that women should run things, not males."

"So it's political?" I asked naively.

But she shook her head. "Not quite." She wouldn't tell me anymore
about it but she had floated the idea once of me joining.

"The sisters like you from what they can see. You know," she added
pointedly, "there are many lesbians in the Black Rose Society. It's one
place that prejudice doesn't exist toward your choice. Tell me you're
interested and I can tell you all the specifics. The Society can be a
real help when you graduate."

Diana had certainly done well for herself, landing a top job at Artemis
Investments right out of college. It was why she lived so regally now
and could afford to keep her man at home in his feminized state. I
adored Diana, but I begged off. It was all too mysterious and
melodramatic. I got the impression that George's transformation was
just the tip of the iceberg. And I wasn't at all sure that I approved
of dominating males either. Until now.

"I don't know Diana. You know my folks are gone and I don't have
anyone. I guess I'm just vulnerable that's all. That punk just made it
all go to my head." I put the wineglass down. "I should go."

"You know, I'm sure we can find a solution to your problems. Males all
provide it themselves, you know. If you're aware of the signs, you can
take advantage of their own instincts to make them behave. Why, Georgie
Girl was just crazy about Marilyn Monroe. Thought she was the ultimate
sex symbol. All he wanted from a women was for her to be a centerfold.
Fine-- I turned him into one. Find out that boy's weakness and you can
do the same to him!"

Centerfold! The word made me think of all those disgusting magazines in
that trailer! A plan took shape. Diana could see me getting excited,
then the bubble burst.

"What's the matter?" she asked concerned.

I looked up forlornly. "Diana, with all due respect, I think your life
is wonderful. You've put George, I mean Ginger, in a unique role in
your life. But you're suggesting I turn that Fazio boy into a Ginger.
And I'm not a heterosexual. I'm into girls, not cross-dressed
husbands!"

Diana smiled. "Fine. You like feminine girls. You don't have a lover
right now and you can't have one openly because you'd get fired. But
what about a teenage girl, one that you would train as a lesbian love
slave? You could keep her as a little pet to help pass those lonely
hours at home."

I was growing wet between the legs at the thought. "I love the idea,
but...how? I mean how could I do it without getting into trouble? And
what does having a teenage sex toy have to do with that little jerk Dino
Fazio?"

Diana spent the next hour telling me exactly what the two things had to
do with one another.

************************

All I told Mr. Temple the following day was that I couldn't continue
teaching the summer session. He was disappointed until I explained I
had some lengthy legal obligations to unearth regarding my parents'
estate.

"I inherited a house on the shore where I'll be staying for the next
three months. I'll be back though to teach in the Fall." With that
promise made, he allowed me to leave my remedial English course and
assigned another teacher to the class.

"I hope that Fazio boy hasn't done this! If he's causing you to give up
this course, I'll--"

I assured him there was no connection and with a thankful handshake took
my leave for the summer. I packed up a few things and drove the two
hours out to my parent's old summer home on the eastern coast of
Florida. Diana met me there, smiling in a very satisfied way. She
handed me a keychain on which hung a small key and a black button the
size of a dime.

"He's in the house. He's heavily sedated and probably won't be up for a
while. He's been fitted with the chastity belt I told you about. Use
this," she pointed to the black button, "if he gets out of hand. It's
called the Tutor. It will activate an electrical shock that affects the
nerve-endings in a nasty way. I've used it once already today. Don't
hesitate to use it. Remember, you need to show him who's boss. The
sooner he understands who makes up the rules, the better a lover he'll
eventually make for you."

The whole scheme suddenly seemed unreal and scary to me. "Diana, are
you sure about this? I mean, will he really turn into a teenage girl?
How can we get away with this?"

Diana nodded strongly in the affirmative. "Look Meg, I took care of all
that. Society sisters nabbed the little brat and left a forged note for
that fat uncle that said he was taking off with a gang. The uncle could
care less. As far as the changes, just put him on the diet we talked
about. You'll see changes at once. Within three months, your Dino
Fazio will be ready to take his place as the hottest little cutie in the
sophomore class of Bentson High School. Just make sure he drinks the
bottled water every day. It doesn't affect females, just males-- makes
them very feminine in both appearance and manner."

I shook my head. "But what will keep him from telling anyone about all
this? I can't be with him all the time at the school."

Diana patted me on the back. "Honey, don't worry. The Society CAN
watch him all the time. You'd be amazed at our presence. And what can he
say anyway? That he's really a boy? He'd be mortified to let anyone
know women did this to him. And even if he gets desperate enough, he
won't dare say a thing."

"Why?"

Diana's hard eyes fixed on mine. "Because I told him that if he so much
as acted like a tomboy, let alone say anything, that he'd be castrated."

I gasped. "Are you serious?"

Diana nodded grimly. "Absolutely. I already told him that you want him
as a young lesbian lover, therefore you could care less if he has a
cocklet. At least this way, he'll keep his little thing, even if it is
under lock and key in his chastity belt for good. What is it? You're
still doubting this can happen? God, anyone else would be thanking me.
It's a fantasy come true. In three months you'll have a hot little teen
queen who will worship the ground you walk on-- or else. Talk about the
ultimate teacher's pet! What's the problem?"

I sighed. She was right. But I still didn't believe it was possible to
convert a tough talking **************** bully into the soft sexy pretty
young thing of my fantasies.

"Well, I can see how he could be physically transformed into a girl, I
guess, but can he really emotionally be turned into a girl?"

Again, that Diana smile-- like a brilliant Cheshire cat. "I already
have a plan for you, one that should be quite amusing. But I'll hold it
for the end of August. Now go in and start training the girl of your
dreams! Good luck!" Off she went, leaving me to my new charge and
challenge of turning Dino Fazio, high school tough guy into my new
sweetheart.

Well, if you're reading this, I doubt you need to hear the details of
how Dino Fazio was transformed into Stacie Fox. Needless to say the
first two weeks were rough. Dino refused to accept my authority and the
Tutor was employed on a couple of occasions. On the second day after
all his sparse chest hair fell out, he stopped eating and drinking, but
that only lasted a day. His diet of protein drinks and bottled water--
both containing a secret chemical element prepared by the Society--
brought on amazing feminine characteristics. His nascent boy beard
disappeared, never to return, leaving his olive skin smooth and glowing.
His body hair all fell out as well. His cheeks became more pronounced,
though more delicate. Even his hands and feet grew smaller by two
sizes. His nails and black hair grew at an accelerated speed too. Dino
really became alarmed when his waist narrowed even as his hips expanded!
He still had a boyish figure, but it was certainly looked more like that
of a developing teenage girl than a boy. His new coltish prettiness
really perplexed him and he couldn't avoid it, because I kept him nude
now, except for the chastity belt. He finally gave up his stubborn
resistance to answering to his new name after another shock from the
Tutor.

The beginning of the third week we had our first conversation. He
hadn't accepted his new feminine fate, but the chemicals rebalancing his
metabolism were causing him to lose hope. He listened as I explained to
him the new challenges facing him.

"Stacie, you're turning into a girl now and there's nothing you can do
about it, is there?"

He reluctantly nodded, though petulantly. He drew his long straight
black hair back from his eyes and his full kissable lips trembled.

"Well you know you have to start acting like a girl because you're going
back to school in a couple of months."

He looked up. "Like this?" he pleaded. His voice was a nice high
soprano now, able to hit all the sweet high notes.

I grinned. "Oh yes, indeed. Just like that."

His blue eyes were terror-filled. "But what if someone finds out I'm a
boy? Will that lady still do THAT to me?"

I nodded again. "Oh yes! If anyone even thinks you might be a girl,
you'll be castrated-- understand? So what will you have to do all the
time?"

He squeezed his thin shoulders worriedly. I have to start acting like a
girl, Ms. Hardy. Like Stacie Fox."

Good. We were getting someplace. I patted him on his lovely head.
"That's right, Stacie. We'll begin at once." And with that, Stacie was
introduced to his new wardrobe-- a bright collection of Junior Miss
fashions. It only took one shock of the Tutor to convince him that he
really DID want to put on those yellow cotton French cut panties.

Within a week, Stacie was wearing all the kinds of pretty clothes high
school girls his age wore. Jean mini-skirts, tight No Excuses jeans,
hip-hugging short-shorts, cute lace-trimmed blouses, smart black heels
and girlishly pink running shoes, darling lacy socklettes, revealing
stirrup pants, and more. The following week I taught him the joys of
make-up and jewelry. He was shaping up so well I was caught by surprise
when he tried to escape one night.

Poor thing never had a chance. Stacie thought that if he could get out
of my presence, he had a shot at getting some help in reversing the
process I had begun with him. Though I was almost always training him
on these long Florida summer days, one day I decided to take a nap and
sent him to his room. The doorlock didn't catch though and Dino's
bedroom was open. Clever little thing waited for me to fall asleep,
then actually made a dash out through the front door. Of course he
didn't know that I put the Tutor on automatic whenever I was away from
him, thus ensuring that he could never get farther away than I allowed
him too. The shock hit him when he reached for the door handle. When I
awoke, I found him crouched in a corner doubled over in pain.

I could have let him be at that point, but a lesson needed to be taught.
Suddenly I liked the idea of using physical force to teach the supple
girlish boy the price of disobedience. In other words, I felt like
being a bitch! I shook my head angrily and told him I was so very
disappointed.

"Over my knee Missy. Come on-- come get your medicine."

You'd have thought all I had done to the boy would have been humiliating
enough so that a mere spanking would be nothing. But male pride is a
curious thing. He refused.

I hit the button for the Tutor to deliver a lesson in impertinence. He
threw his head up in agony. I patted my knee again, without saying a
word. He dropped his head and sullenly d****d himself over my knee. It
was the last time I used the Tutor. From that moment on, all Stacie's
'lapses' in judgment were corrected with corporal punishment and have
been to this day four years later. I still had the Tutor, but Stacie
found my method somewhat more bearable. Which was fine-- I began to
cast an eagle-eye for any small indiscretions that would give me the
opportunity to punish my pretty pet.

There were plenty, though nothing major. It was August and Stacie had
come to accept at least for the moment, his new gender. He was
dressing, making himself up as, speaking like, even walking like a
**************** girl. He didn't smile much, but I couldn't expect
miracles. When Diana came up at the end of the summer to inspect my
"summer project" she was pleased with my progress.

"You've really taken him in hand, Meg. What a cutie you have here," she
said as she watched Stacie mincing about the house. he was cleaning, a
task he performed daily now. "I'm sure by now you're handling
discipline without the need to resort to the Tutor."

I nodded confidently. "Yes, Stacie's been behaving very adequately
lately. He still gets into trouble, but nothing I can't handle," I
said, tapping my palm with a hairbrush.

"Good. Now that he's almost ready, we can talk about something you
brought up at the beginning of the summer."

I had forgotten what she was talking about. "I thought he was ready,
Diana. What's missing?"

She wagged a finger in disagreement. "No, no, no! Not by a long shot!
Look, you have him prancing around in panties, skirt and make-up, true.
He acts and looks like a girl. But he doesn't FEEL like a girl yet.
Remember how I said that my Georgie-girl really wasn't tamed into being
a proper lil househubby till I turned him into the woman of HIS dreams?"

I snapped my fingers, realizing what she was saying. "Marilyn Monroe!
Of course!"

Diana handed me a small bottle of water. "Remember what he said to
bother you earlier?"

I took the bottle. Yes, I had. I said I don't like fried eggs, the
punk had said.

"And you said he had all those girlie magazines?" she reminded me.

I nodded and smiled. "I understand. I know what to do."

We dropped the subject, though I would ask her for advice in the matter
as school progressed. Diana stayed for dinner, all the while drinking
in the sight of my pretty teen queen pet. Dino shivered whenever her
eyes fell on him too long. Only once did she ask me loudly and in his
presence if she would need to "spay" him. He turned ashen white,
waiting for me to reply.

I paused for a dramatic moment or two, then shook my head. "No, not now
anyway. He's really trying hard. Ask me again when he starts school
though. If he doesn't pass, I'll need to reconsider it."

Diana left that evening with specific instructions on how to use the
bottled liquid. "Just like before, except one dose should do. Give it
to the dear tonight and watch him drink every drop. In the morning he
should be ready to take back to Bentson with you."

I followed her instructions, and watched the skirted boy sip every drop
without so much as a peep. He was of course quite used to obeying my
every order at this stage and did so now. After drinking it, he fell
into a deep slumber. He had grown so light-- he weighed all of one
hundred-seven pounds now-- that I easily picked him up him and placed
him in his bed for a what would be a very strange night of beauty rest.

I knew the next day the bottled formula had worked because I could hear
Stacie whining to himself behind his locked bedroom suite.

"I have tits! I have tits!" He didn't sound happy about it.

I opened the door. He sat on his big pink girl's bed wearing a nightie.
He was holding the pink lace nightie up, inspecting what was underneath
resting high on his chest. They were a smallish pair of perky breasts,
about the size of cut lemons! He dropped his nightie and looked up in
alarm. Tears were streaming down his dark, wan cheeks. His full lips
were opened up in a silent scream.

"Aren't we growing up!" I cruelly chided him. He didn't say a word, but
big tears continued to fall down those soft cheeks and I left him alone
to collect his thoughts.

Later I realized that poor Dino's worst nightmare had occurred. It was
one thing to change the shape of his body, to make it sift and
acceptable to my tastes for a young, taut teen body. The long hair, the
soft skin, the make-up and dressing-- that was one thing. He had never
expected this though. Now he had what he had so often lusted after-- a
pair of teenage girl's breasts-- except these breast were smaller, much
smaller than anything that might have attracted him. I think even a
whorish pair of pumped up melon-tits would have been easier to take than
the tiny nipple-teats he had sprouted. For the diminutive little things
my girl-boy had now were more nipple than breast. As I searched for and
found the raised dime-sized nipples underneath the sheer nightie, I
guessed that at most, that my teeny-bopper would wear a 32AA brassiere
at most. But that was the point Diana had made. It was precisely how I
would turn the half-boy into the totally girlish lipstick lesbian teen
lover of my hottest, wettest fantasies.

The night before school was to begin, I took Stacie home from the beach
house, along with all his pretty new clothes. As I drove, I told him
the story that Diana and I had worked out. Stacie Fox was my niece.
HER parents were traveling extensively and I had agreed to let her stay
with me for the coming school year. I would be responsible for her.
SHE would also be in my homeroom class, and HER courses had been chosen
by me. Mr. Temple had been informed already.

Stacie listened, increasingly more depressed and withdrawn. He looked
up in fear when I told him there would be some new rules to follow when
we got home, rules that would be followed or else Diana would be paying
him a call with a scalpel. I didn't say anything more but gave him as
hard a look as I could. He squirmed and kept his full lips pursed,
afraid to utter a word.

The next morning I watched as Stacie Fox, my new niece, dressed. I
picked out the outfit-- a pink velveteen miniskirt, a sheer white
buttoned blouse, white knee socks, Maryjanes and a floppy pink ribbon to
wear in his hair. Simple pink heart-shaped ear studs, pink lipgloss and
pale pink nail polish completed the young lady image I wanted for him.
Underneath his little flared a-line miniskirt, Stacie wore a pair of
pink French-cut Hanes For Her panties.

He was tucking in his blouse when he realized his breasts were clearly
visible through the material! He looked up, confounded.
"May I put on another blouse?"

I shook my head firmly. "No. You look very pretty in that blouse and
you're going to keep it on."

He bowed his head, then gathered all his courage up. The moment he
ashamedly made his shy request, his bra training had begun.

"Then may I have a bra to wear, please?"

"Why do you need a bra, Stacie?"

He blushed. "Because you can see my breasts through my blouse, Ms.
Hardy. Maybe I could borrow one of yours?" he pleaded softly.

I laughed. "There's no way. You couldn't fill it out by a long shot.
Besides you need a special kind of bra. The kind girls wear when they
start to get their little breasts. What kind is that, Stacie? What
kind of bra do you need?"

He looked at his Maryjanes humbly for a moment, then forced the answer
out. "A training bra, Ms. Hardy. I need a training bra."

I nodded approvingly. "That's right, Stacie. And I bought one for you-
- just for your little breasts." I pulled it out of my briefcase and
handed it to him. "Go put on your very first training bra Stacie.
We're going to be late for our first day at school."

Stacie took the packaged training bra, the tag still hanging off it.
The disconcerted expression on his prettified and softened face told me
that it would take my Stacie a while before he would comfortably accept
the unfamiliar feminine garment's new role in his teenage world. I
could only look forward to his journey toward girlhood with pleasurable
anticipation!

He returned, ready for the drive to school. I noted with approval that
Stacie had donned his training bra quickly and without questions. Good-
- he could dress himself without questions. I could clearly make out
the training bra underneath the sheer white material of the blouse. It
was a darling contraption made of soft snow white cotton, with wide
straps and full chest covering cups. It was almost a half-chemise, with
pretty white lace trimming that gave only the barest hint of budding
breasts under the too-generous cups. In fact, the training bra didn't
even hook in the back, but was worn by pulling it over the head. The
whole effect was to announce that the wearer was ready to begin her real
girlhood, but still underequipped for the new stage. Stacie scrunched
his shoulders, his fingers constantly straying to position an errant
strap or scratching his back where the big backstrap offered unneeded
support. It was so cute!

As we drove, I informed Stacie that he would be expected to obey certain
private rules I had already formulated. The reason for this was that I
needed to be convinced that Stacie was being a very good girl and
therefore didn't require my brand of discipline. As I told him the
first rule, he turned pale.

He looked up at me, a nervous wreck. "Oh, must I, Ms. Hardy? Shan't I
be drawing attention to myself?" I had taught him to speak as a
properly brought up young lady over the course of the past summer and to
always use a frivolous charming turn of phrase.

"That's the point, Stacie. You'll do as I've instructed because it is
important that everyone be aware of your concern for your appearance."
I added, unnecessarily, that he knew what would happen if he didn't obey
this rule. He gave me a short nod, though his full lips were tightly
shut.

Stacie was surprised as I assigned him a seat that was surrounded by his
former summer school chums-- Jed Taylor, Frankie Farino, Samantha King
and Beth Simpson. He must have hoped against hope that the four would
recognize him, but I watched that hope die as the k**s looked him over
as dully as they did their required reading. It was as if they had
never known him at all. I knew that Stacie was reeling at the shock and
was pleased. I wanted my darling girlie Stacie Fox to understand that
Dino Fazio may as well have never existed.

I introduced Stacie to the class, though made no mention of our
relationship. I had suggested to Mr. Temple that if the other k**s knew
Stacie was my niece they might suspect me of favoritism. Stacie was so
informed as well and told to keep the relationship secret. Samantha and
Beth couldn't have taken cared less about the new "girl" but I saw a
brief predatory leer from the Stacie's two male neighbors, Jed and
Frankie.

All was preceding normally when I decided to cue Stacie. I had told him
the signal would be my taking off my glasses and putting them in the
breast pocket of my jacket. To the rest of the class, this would be a
meaningless gesture, but to Stacie it would begin the most memorable era
of his bra training.

At first his frightened expression concerned me. My back-up plan would
be to activate the Tutor and he knew this, which was probably why he
grudgingly raised his hand. I stopped my lesson, a discussion of
grammar rules, and recognized him.

"Yes, Stacie?" I asked archly, acting annoyed at being interrupted in
the middle of my discourse.

His pretty made-up face blushed a crimson red. He opened his wide
lipglossed mouth and spoke demurely. "May I be excused to go to the
Girl's Room, Ms. Hardy?"

I hid my smile. "And why, Stacie?"

His face darkened in shame, but he knew he had to continue. He had no
choice. "I must adjust my training brassiere, Ma'am."

As the class erupted into laughter, I couldn't help but join in. "Yes,
Miss Fox, you may go adjust your training bra-- by all means, young
lady!" Beth and Samantha were doubled over in chuckles and Jed and
Frankie gave Stacie cartoonish "hubba hubba" looks. All the girls in
the class were healthy sixteen year olds with nicely shaped chests and
the request only emphasized how flat Stacie was compared to them. That
a **************** girl still wore a training bra absolutely shook them
into gales of derisive laughter-- a laughter I freely shared.

Stacie scampered out of the class, completely humiliated and returned a
few minutes later. As he resented himself, careful to keep his skirt
close to his legs, Jed stage whispered "All set, Dolly Parton?" and the
class broke into chuckles all over again. Stacie sat and kept his head
bowed down.

That was the beginning of the bra training I subjected Stacie to. He
was required per my rule to utter the phrase "my training brassiere" at
least once a school day for two weeks. He had to say it in my presence
at my cue loud enough to be heard by the entire class. After the first
time, it was up to him to come up with ways to use the phrase that made
sense. To be honest, his ingenuity impressed me. The next day, at my
cue, he raised his hand. We had been discussing adjectives. How would
be make a connection between his training bra and adjectives? I
recognized him.

"In a way, adjectives are things that make others things pretty, is that
right, Ms. Hardy?"

"How do you mean Miss Fox?"

He blushed again. "Like my training brassiere makes my figure prettier?
Like that?"

Again, the class broke down. And it was like that for the next two
weeks. Every time Stacie raised his hand, the class began to get the
giggles, though by this time the girls were getting disgusted. Stacie
had no self-pride to keep bringing up her small bust, they said. She
was clearly doing it to get the attention of boys in some weird way.
But the boys thought the whole thing was hilarious.

Another affect of what was seen as her odd behavior was that Stacie was
unable to make any friends. The girls thought she was too strange and
the boys couldn't care less about a girl who thought so little of
herself, though Jed and Frankie seemed to have a private joke about
their feminine classmate that made them eye her with special interest.
In any case, Stacie was isolated which was precisely what I wanted. I
hardly needed him getting chummy with some boy or girl and sharing the
story of his ongoing training, let alone his biological sex.

Two weeks had passed and Stacie had obeyed my rules thoroughly. I
complimented him at home, though he responded only with a wan sad smile.
I knew he dreaded getting up in the morning, hated being put in such
humiliating situations constantly and that school for him was more
literally a prison for him than any of his classmates could imagine.
But regardless of how I knew he must feel inside, I could find no fault
whatsoever with his behavior. He dressed in his schoolgirl wardrobe
without so much as a cross look. His walk was graceful in his Maryjanes
and saddle shoes and his makeup applied ever more expertly as days
progressed. No-- Stacie was acting like the perfect little lady at
Benson High.

And that was why I decided to reward my little Stacie. Sunday evening I
told him I wished to speak to him. He put down his Glamour magazine (he
was responsible for reading at least one fashion magazine a week now)
and looked up demurely. By now he had learned the tricks of the teenage
girl of how to look pretty without too much work, which his casually
ponytailed black hair demonstrated. He looked up, not directly at me,
but down at my shoes-- an acceptably respectful demeanor.

"You've been a good girl, Stacie."

He continued to look down, but I saw the wince. He still didn't like
being referred to as a girl, even though he made such a convincing one
by now.

"Good girls get rewards."

He looked up hopefully now, batting his lashes excitedly. Then he saw
what I had in my hand and all his anticipation collapsed. He took the
gift pettishly, his brown eyes clouding in pouty anger.

"What do you say, young lady?"

"T-thank you, Ms. Hardy." There was a trace of hurt in it but I let it
pass. He held the garment doubtfully.

I instructed him to put it on. Sluggishly, he pulled off his pink
blouse. Without effort he slipped the training bra off over his head.
But now his hostility was softened by curiosity. He shyly toyed with
the soft wireless cups of his peach colored cotton bra.

"It's a Missy Petite, an Olga For Girls, size 32 AAA-- the smallest they
make. But it is a real bra. What do you think Stacie?"

His curiosity was winning the better of him. "It has a hook in the
back, Ms. Hardy-- not like my training brassiere." He was fingering the
soft cotton, playing with the hook.

I nodded. "That's right, Stacie. You'll have to hook it in the back.
Put it on." I watched as his trembling fingers drew his small bare
breasts into the snug comfort of the new bra. Unlike the training bra,
this one gave his small bust small but visible shaping. He now looked
like a girl- a flat chested girl, but definitely a girl with a pair of
petite breasts! Almost instinctively, he slipped the bra on, hooking
the bra skillfully in the back and pulling the thin shoulder straps up
to give his boobs a tiny shelf-like look. Against his will, I could
tell he enjoyed admiring the new figure my gift gave him.

"Better than your training bra, hah?" I teased.

He gave me a sphinxlike smile and a pretty little nod.

"Good. You'll wear your new bra from now on. You may retire your
training bra to your undies drawer. We'll keep it-- and if you ever
start to act like a ***********, it will go right back on." He blushed
and I continued. "But for now, your behavior has earned you the right
to wear a real bra. In fact, you should be so happy about your new bra,
that you shouldn't hesitate to tell everyone about it."

Stacie's face fell. As he must have suspected, his gift would have
strings attached.

"So tomorrow in class, I'll expect you to follow a new rule." As I
explained the rule, he grew more despondent. I left the room, leaving
him to think about how he would follow the new rule in school tomorrow.

As we drove in, Stacie remained silent, though he offered a smile now
and again. He had clearly reached some decision as to how he would
fulfill the new rule I had laid down the previous night. As he took his
seat, I saw the boys that sat next to Stacie were looking over with new
interest. I had dressed Stacie to draw this kind of attention by
putting him in a cute red form-fitting bolero top over a ribbed white
shirt and a matching red skirt. For the first time Stacie had a bust
and the boys noticed right away.

I was dying to see how my teen pet would obey his mistress' new rule.
But throughout the class, he remained demure and quiet as always.
Finally I knew he needed a push. And I gave it to him.

"all right class. Let's use some of the vocabulary words in real
sentences, shall we? Use the work 'exquisite' in a sentence. No who
haven't I heard from today?' I paused and searched around the room, my
eyes landing on Stacie. "Stacie. Stand up and use the word 'exquisite'
in a sentence."

He looked up, his courage screwed to the highest pitch. Without missing
a beat, he skipped up on his heels. "Yes, Ma'am." He paused for a
moment, closed his eyes, then said "I look exquisite in my first real
bra."

The class again broke out into uproarious laughter. As the students
bellowed, I could see it was taking Stacie all he had to hold onto his
composure. Beads of perspiration were forming on his smooth forehead
and he patted his black bangs down nervously, until I told him to sit
down. "Fine, Stacie. And thank you for informing us of your new bra."

And so it was that Stacie was required to use the phrase "my first real
bra" every day in front to f the class just as he had been required to
say "my training brassiere" the previous two weeks. By now he had
figured out a way to do it, slipping the humbling phrase in whenever he
could get away with it. He obeyed the new rule with complete
resignation now, enduring the laughs and jibes of the other k**s without
a word. But Frankie and Jed were eyeing him now in a way that made him
uncomfortable. He brought this up as we drove home one night.

"They both look at me, at my breasts! I hate it, Ms. Hardy! Please
move me to another seat!"

I shrugged. "Please, Stacie! As a pretty young thing, you'd better get
used to the stares of boys. With such a small chest, you think you'd be
happy to attract them. Why Beth and Samantha are even getting a little
jealous!"

He looked at me with frightened eyes. "But I'm not a girl! I'm not! I
don't want them to like me that way! I'm not gay!"

I looked him over. "Really? Well, what are you then?"

"I'm a boy!" he claimed in his squeaky-high soprano voice. But the
absurdity of that concept was obvious even to Stacie and he looked down
at his shiny Maryjanes in deep depression.

I let it pass for a moment. "You're a boy?" I pressed. "Really? You
know how I feel about lying. Thank about that before you answer me
Stacie!"

He pursed his lips. "Well, I may not be a boy anymore but I'm not gay.
That's for sure!" he seemed so proud of this complex thinking.

I smiled. "Fine. You don't like boys. Do you like girls?"

He shook his head, his long black tresses shaking wildly. "Oh, yes, Ms.
Hardy!"

"Tell me why."

He fell into a rhapsodic explanation of why he found girls attractive.
"Girls are soft and sexy, so smooth and pretty. They have such nice
curves and they're so much nicer that boys. So much more attractive.
They wear the prettiest clothes, the most precious make-up, the sexist
perfume. They're just so dreamy!"

I let it go at that. I was pleased that Stacie was so in love with his
budding femininity. That he had no interest in males was perfectly
fine-- I wanted Stacie as my lesbian lover, not as a plaything for the
teenage boys in my class. And he was developing so nicely, which made
the next new rule even more fun. As we drove home, I explained to
Stacie what was expected of him next. I handed him the tiny ruler he
would need.

"But why?" he demanded shrilly, though taking the ruler obediently. "Do
I have to?"

"As if you have a choice, young lady! As for why, it is important that
we track your development. Perhaps you're just in a holding pattern and
your growth may kick back in. You never know at this age. And stop
acting as if your small breast size doesn't bother you-- I know the boy
and girls make fun of you, don't they?"

He nodded, a teardrop descending down his soft made-up cheek. Just that
day, Stacie had returned to his locker to find written on it in
indelible ink, "Stacie Fox is a carpenter's dream-- flat as a board."
Before this his breasts had been so new to him that he couldn't have
cared less about size. He had resisted accepting that he even had
breasts at first. Then he had grown used to them, his attitude swinging
between indifference and curiosity. But now the constant comments had
driven him to a self-consciousness that was almost painful to watch. He
had begun to examine himself so critically as he dressed in his girl's
clothing with such eagle eyed attention to his appearance that at first
I thought he was beginning to enjoy his new clothes. It was only when I
noticed how much time he spent on his tops and arranging his bra that I
knew he was finally growing embarrassed about the small size of his
bust. The k**s' comments and my rules had at last caused him to crack.

The next day Stacie put up the chart I had made him draw up. It was a
big piece of paper which he taped to the inside door of his locker, with
a big calendar on it. It was labeled "Stacie's Bust Size" with two
columns: "Measurement" and "Cup." He put it up furtively between
classes but the subterfuge couldn't last for long. That was because he
was expected to measure his chest in the girl's lavatory after lunch
with the micro ruler I had given to him in full view of the other girls.
I gave myself an excuse for going into the girl's room to make sure he
was doing as he was told. Sure enough, there he was with top and bra
off, placing the micro ruler against the small puce boob as he looked
redfaced into the mirror. The girls had been laughing when I entered
the room but quieted down as I walked in. I looked oddly at Stacie,
shrugged my shoulders and walked out. As I did, the laughing began
again. Three minutes later, Stacie, fully clothed again though still
redfaced, gave me a pouty look and walked to his locker. Opening it
quickly, he took out a big pink marker and jotted in the first chart
entry: "32 AAA."

Poor Stacie hated this part of the day. I think he would have preferred
to have returned to the verbal humiliation than undergo this new daily
ritual. But even as he followed the new procedure, I noticed him
growing more anxious about the possibility that in deed his breasts
would grow. He often asked if I thought his breasts might grow and I
assured him that anything was possible. I was very pleased that he now
wanted his breasts to grow-- even though there was no way I would allow
that. I liked his tiny breasts, the girlish buds. I had long ago
decided that I would have the womanly breasts and my teen pet would have
to do with his pretty juvenile bumps. I thought it only emphasized his
girlishness rather than subtract from it.

I don't want to make it seem that Stacie's life was all about his
breasts or lack thereof. Actually, he was becoming quite a proper young
schoolgirl. His oddness to the other k**s prevented him from forming
any friendships so he spent most of his out-of-school time devouring the
romance novels and teeny bopper magazines I limited him to: Teen Beat,
Cosmo, Glamour, s*******n, Redbook and the like. As I corrected papers,
he was allowed to watch soap opera after soap opera, drinking in the
daytime dramas that glamorized the ultra-femininity I wished Stacie to
strive for.

And he was, with every day that passed. Gradually he had stopped
fighting his training, and as days passed, was grudgingly coming to
accept it. His make-up skills were improving dramatically and he now
needed virtually no coaching to put on his face in the morning. Ditto
for his long straight black hair. At first I put him through a series
of daily style changes, styles which were featured in his fashion
magazines-- one day a pretty French bob, the next day a throwback Farrah
look, the following a "big hair" mall walker look. Finally we
discovered his prettiest look-- a simple ponytail, his long black hair
tied up high in the back and swishing gently over and down his
shoulders. An unexpected spanking one morning convinced my little male
missy to keep his legs and underarms smoothly shaved and he remembered
the lesson because I never had to remind him after that. No pantyhose
was allowed-- his legs were too sexy. I gave him another dose of the
same medicine when I saw that he had been biting his nails. That
spanking was a great deal more severe but when it was over my sissified
boy swore in tears that he'd never ruin his nails that way again. To
make sure this was the case he presented them every morning for me to
examine. His raw fingers were then quickly transformed by the long red
polished nails he soon grew.

His clothing never became an issue because he had no choices as to what
he might wear, at least for the first couple of weeks. Living in
Florida was a luxury for any smooth, long legged beauty like my Stacie
so I constantly kept him in outfits that would show them off. "Small
breasted girls need to depend on other assets to catch an appreciative
eye," I explained to him as I'd pick out a flirty little miniskirt or a
pair of short-shorts. From time to time, I'd put him in a tight pair of
Chic jeans which really showed off his shrinking waist and curvy
backside, but generally I liked him to feel the air between his legs-- I
liked this reminder of his essential feminine vulnerability. Plus it
forced him to walk with the grace of a cat lest he reveal a flash of the
panties underneath. Tops were bright colored, often midriff, t-shirts
or tank tops. I liked him in his Maryjanes with a pair of lacy socks,
but I permitted him to wear a more mature pair of pink flats.
Increasing I had him to slip on his pair of red three inch heels which
he disliked. Underneath Stacie of course wore his original soft cup
Junior Missy Olga bra, though he now had a choice of a peach, pink and
yellow colored bra in addition to his original white bra. His panties
were all cotton in the French-cut bikini style of the Hanes For Her
brand. They seemed made for him the way they clung to the sinuous curve
of his hips, disappeared snugly down and between his legs, only to
emerge in a jealous vee of bright cotton to hug his tight, cupcake buns.
Readying for bedtime meant slipping on a lavender cami top and a clean
pair of panties. The stainless steel chastity cup flattened out his
midsection so securely and thoroughly that the merest bulge remained as
a clue as to his original gender. I had to remind myself that the
teenage beauty, whose sexuality was only emphasized by her self-
consciousness, who dressed so shyly in front of me every morning as she
jumped up and down in front of the mirror to shoehorn herself into her
too-tight designer jeans-- that this girl was REALLY a boy.

I talked to Diana about how easily he was softening into a little teen
queen.

"It seems so much easier than I would have thought."

"Not me, my dear," she replied archly.

"But Dino Fazio was the toughest, wisecracking bully I've ever bumped
into, Diana! And he's been turned into a fluffy headed, house-broken
kitten!"

"Yes, but," she reminded me, " take the bully out of Dino and see what
was left? Just a disobedient c***d longing for discipline-- which you
are providing. Stacie now knows that someone cares enough about him to
punish him if he's misbehaved. As much as your 'niece' acts as if he
doesn't like to be told what to do, he's growing so used to obeying
orders that he'll be petrified to think or act on his own. A perfectly
appropriate state for your young missy to be in."

When I told my Stacie that I wished him to try out for the Bentson
Bunnies Cheerleading Squad just to see how feminine he was really trying
to be, I was pleasantly surprised by his reaction. He didn't throw out
some lame protest. He wasn't happy about it but he didn't have a choice
and he knew it.

"O.k. Ms. Hardy, I'll try-- if you think I have a chance." I think he
was excited that I thought he DID have a chance.

The next day he took an extra ten minutes just making himself up and
brushing his hair. This morning I didn't pick out his wardrobe but had
him choose his own outfit. His pouty red lips parted as if surprised at
this, then closed. Without further instruction, he picked out of his
dresser his clothes and slipped them on, hesitating as if I might tell
him to substitute one garment for another. But there was no need. His
outfit was darling, especially for a cheerleader try-out. He slipped on
a pair of bright yellow panties and matching bra, a yellow cotton mini-
skirt, a black midriff tank top, a yellow bow around his ponytail and
his pair of black and white saddle shoes. The colors of Bentson High
were yellow and black.

Later that day, as we were driving home, I asked him how his try out had
gone. He stared out the window, sulking.

"I didn't make it. I didn't get picked." He was trying to sound
natural but I detected some bitterness. As if he was upset that he
hadn't been chosen.

"And why was that?"

He bit his lower lip, then answered. "The coach said she wanted her
girls to have lots to cheer up the boys with and that I should try again
next year."

"Why next year?" He was trying to sound so nonchalant about this.

He looked into his lap, inspecting his nails. "She thought I might grow
out more by then." The he looked out the window so quickly I almost
didn't see the tear that was forming in the corner of his eye. Suddenly
he blurted out, "If I have to be a girl, why can't I at least be a
pretty girl? It's unfair!"

I suppressed a smile. "Oh, you are pretty, Stacie! Don't say that!"

He looked at moppily. "But I'm so flat! I just hate being so flat!"
He made two small fists and hit his bare knees in frustration. "Just
like my locker says-- Stacie Fox the carpenter's dream!" He brooded,
his brown eyes flashing in anger. "I hate being a girl!"

I didn't say a word. I pulled the car into the driveway.

"Follow me upstairs, young lady!" I commanded Stacie. Immediately he
realized he had crossed a line and he was going to pay for it. He
minced behind me in trepidation as I headed for his bedroom. Picking up
a copy of s*******n from his night table, I rolled it up tightly and
swatted it on hard against my palm. I seated myself on his bed.

"Off with your shoes and skirt, young lady. DO IT NOW!"

He shivered and knelt to quickly untie his saddle shoes. Then he stood,
avoiding my fierce gaze and his dainty hands disappeared behind his back
to unzip the skirt. It fell around his bare ankles and he stood in
front of me in his clingy black tank top and yellow panties, head bowed.

I cracked the rolled up teen fashion magazine against my palm again.
"So you hate being a girl, Miss Stacie?"

His full lips pursed stubbornly. He was afraid but he wasn't going to
deny the truth. "I'm supposed to be a boy Ms. Hardy!" The usually
demure docile teen was in full rebellion now, the soprano voice full of
sassiness. "You made me into a stupid girl with little boobs to get
back at me! But I'm really a boy! And I hate having to dress up and
put on makeup and act like such an airhead bimbo! I want to be a boy
again!" The failure to be chosen for the cheerleading squad had
evidently made my Stacie think about his life. He had become so het up
that he had forgotten I could use the Tutor on him anytime I needed to.
But I didn't. Instead I answered my Stacie with firmness.

"No, Stacie. You're not going to be a boy again. Ever again." I let
that sink in and continued. "You're a girl for now on-- a very pretty
young lady. And yes-- you do have to wear cute clothes and make
yourself up. Otherwise how will you keep yourself pretty? Being pretty
is very important for a high school girl, isn't it?"

His lips were pursed again but he nodded reluctantly.

"That's right. And you'll continue to keep yourself as attractive as
you can be. Or you'll be punished. And as far as acting like an
airhead, let's face it Stacie-- teenage girls like you aren't exactly
know for their IQs. No one expects you to know too many three syllable
words as long as you keep yourself looking so adorable. And about
acting like a bimbo, you should understand that showing the world that
you like being pretty and showing yourself off is completely natural for
a girl like you. No one would expect you to act any differently--
you're a healthy red blooded American high school girl with a pretty
face, long legs, a nice butt and you know it. People expect you to put
yourself on display for them."

The feminized boy listened to all this, delivered by me in a concise no-
nonsense tone that brooked no objections. As I went on, he began to
realize this would all end in a spanking.

"Now, is that all clear missy?"

He nodded submissively now. "Yes, Ms. Hardy."

"Good. Over my knee girlie."

He dropped himself delicately over my knee. I slipped my fingers under
the elastic of his panties and drew the soft cotton down. "Bad girls
get bare bottom spankings," I explained grimly. He swallowed hard as I
smacked the rolled up s*******n on his squirming buttcheeks. He yelped
and began to whine as I landed smack after hard smack on his rear.
After ten swats, I told him to go stand in the corner.

"I want you to think awhile about how a good girl acts. And if I ever
hear about you wanting to be a boy again, you'll get double--
understand?"

"Yes, Ms. Hardy-- I do now," he practically whispered.

"Good, now pull up your panties. After you've thought about things for
awhile, we'll talk again."

I left him in the corner for a solid four hours. From time to time I
would peek in to make sure he was standing only to find him looking at
the wall, face as devoid of expression as he could make it. Clearly he
was afraid I might find an excuse to tan his hide again. And to be
honest, he was right! At last I called for him. He scampered over to
me, eyes clear and skin goosebumped from standing in the cool still air
for so long.

"Have you learned your lesson, missy?"

He nodded, his ponytail bobbing up and down fervently. "Yes, Ms.
Hardy!"

I sneered. A good spanking was the a terribly effective attitude
adjuster for little Miss Stacie Fox. "And what do you have to say for
yourself?"

He looked down sadly then made himself continued in that darling
submissive soprano. "That I'm a girl, Ms. Hardy."

I folded my arms, giving him a searing look. "Oh? I thought you were
really a boy!"

He shook his head, terrified. "Oh no, Ms. Hardy! No-- I'm a girl!"

"And do you like being a girl?"

He shook his head. "Oh yes, yes, yes! I do like being a girl!"

I pretended to be unconvinced. "Why do you like being a girl so much,
Stacie?"

One of his manicured hands leapt to his hair and the other to his hip.
"Oh I like to make myself up with makeup, to fix my hair so everyone
thinks it looks sexy! And I just love to dress up in all my gorgeous
clothes! And being a girl is fun because you get so much attention!
All you have to worry about is how you look and having a good attitude!
Not being uppity or anything! Before I was being uppity and such a
little bitch! But I won't act that way anymore! I'm just so grateful
that I can be a girl from now on!" His eyes were wide and begged for
approval.

I nodded, a small smile on my face. "Fine. That's an acceptable
attitude, Miss Stacie. You may get ready for bed now young lady and gnow on-- a girl."

And with that Dino Fazio truly became Miss Stacie Fox, legal ward of Ms.
Meg Hardy. True, SHE would give me trouble from time to time and
spankings would be required to keep my Stacie properly disciplined. But
never again did Stacie attempt to convince me SHE was really a HE. No,
little Stacie resigned HERSELF to being the sexy airheaded bimbo teenage
girl SHE knew SHE was. And that was that. There was just one more
chapter to write in her story. I had transformed tough Dino Fazio the
bully into playful Stacie Fox the heartbreaker. Now I just had to make
her over fully into the sexy, luscious lesbian lover I had always
fantasized about. It was to turn out I would have unanticipated help
from some very unlikely accomplices.

The next morning was Saturday. I wanted to reward my Stacie for facing
up to her new life so obediently the night before. I surprised her by
announcing we would take a trip to the mall. "I know how teenage girls
just love to shop at malls."

SHE gave me a fetching smile and nodded excitedly. "Oh, we do, Ms.
Hardy! We teenage girls just loooove to hang at the mall!!!! May I go
put something cute on before we go?"

I waved her off. Stacie returned in a pink poodle skirt, pink heels and
a tight white and pink striped top. She had remade her face with fresh
pink lipstick and tied an oversized pink bow on her ponytail. A
perfectly primped and pouty little teen mallwalker. At that moment I
wanted to push her to her knees, pull off my jeans, yank down my panties
and start teaching young Miss Fox the finer points of orally pleasuring
her older mistress. But I refrained. There would be time I told
myself. Lots of it.

When we arrived at the mall, I took Stacie to Victoria's Secret. She
looked at me curiously. A sales lady in her forties approached.

"May I help you, Madame?"

"We're here to shop for my niece, Stacie. As you can see, she's very,
very small on top and she's very self-conscious about it. I thought she
might gain a half size or so with a Wonder Bra. What do you think?"

The woman examined a blushing Stacie clinically and nodded. "I think
so. Even Kate Moss gained something and your niece looks to be a 32 AA
which is her size. Is that so young lady? Are you a 32 AA?"

Stacie was redder than a lobster. "Actually I'm a 32 AAA, ma'am."

The sales clerk nodded. "Any favorite color you'd like? Wonder Bras
come in a number of pretty colors."

Stacie shrugged.

The sales lady smiled. "I'm sure your boyfriend has some ideas about
that doesn't he? Maybe a black perhaps?"

"Uh, may I have a pink, Ma'am?" Stacie requested sweetly. I could have
French kissed her right there and then. She was so femmy, so girlish, a
fresh piece of sex candy!

The clerk nodded. "Of course-- pink, for a good girl! Come with me and
we'll get you fitted. And you Ma'am, if you like." The three of us
walked into the back fitting rooms. As I watched Stacie shyly undress
and gently wriggle her tiny breasts into the Wonder Bra, I felt my
panties wetten. The excitement on her face was genuine as she watched
the miracle occur in the mirror. Her juvenile bumplets were plumped up
and separated, shaped into two small, pointed cones of pink lace. I
could see the proud thrill on Stacie's face as her hands deftly hooked
the bra in the back. My teeny bopper thrust her chest out like a table
dancer showing her wares to a potential buyer. Instead of looking like
a blushing girl of twelve on the first step of womanhood, she suddenly
looked like a promising minx of f******n ready to tempt a boy with her
ripening breasts!

The sales lady spoke to me. "I think your niece is about a 32A in the
Wonder Bra. Will you be buying it?"

I handed her a credit card.

"Please don't ring it up yet!" Stacie whined softly.

I arched my eyes coldly. "Don't you like the bra, Stacie?"

She nodded, her boobs even jiggling slightly in the new bra. "Oh, yes,
I loooove it! But may I have a white one too?"

I nodded.

She gave me a bratty smile. "And some new panties? Please?!"

I nodded. Stacie proceeded to wrack up two hundred dollars worth of
lingerie as she eagerly picked out Wonder Bras in pink, white, blue and
champagne. To this she added three pairs of cotton Jockeys For Her in
white "just for school and stuff," she explained. "Aren't they so
sophisticated? I love their ads in Sassy!" Stacie also "had to
have...pretty please?" several pairs of Calvin Klein cotton thong
panties in black, blue, gray, red and pink. She "had to have" a little
pink cotton teddy to "play around the house in." A sleevelees white
teddy decorated with cherries caught her eye and she threw that in the
growing pile of dainties. True to her age, she properly confined
herself to girlish cottons, though her eyes danced over the more exotic
g-strings, corsets and push-up bras of lace, silk, satin and even
leather! She'd never wear that stuff in my bed, I'd already decided. I
wanted my teen queen in her skimpy natural cottons. That was what
turned me on and that was what my Stacie would wear for her mistress.

"Teenage girls go crazy when they get to this age, don't they?" the
clerk offered sympathetically. "She's a pretty girl and pretty girls
just love their lingerie!"

I smiled. I loved them to see pretty girls in it! As we drove home, I
could tell Stacie was either honestly excited about her new undies or
was trying her best to convince me she was trying very hard to be the
girl I expected her to be. Either way I didn't care. She'd put on a
fashion show and I 'd sit back and enjoy. And as she proceeded to try
on her darling new underwear, I watched with a growing appetite for that
lithe, trained new girlish body. All that weekend I debated how to
begin Stacie's lesbian training, but ironically she was behaving so
well, so flirtishly femmy that I couldn't bring myself to force my
desires on her.

I called Diana and she dismissed my pity out of hand. "She belongs to
you. Use her-- that's why we did all this for God's sake!"

I hung the phone up, half-heartedly agreeing with her. But looking at
my sweet Stacie as she pranced around in her new "cherries" teddy and
the tiny bulge of her chastity belt underneath, all I could feel was
sorry for the beautiful enticing teen. Did she know why this had
happened to her? How would she react when I told her she would be my
sex slave from now on? But then macho bully was now a defenseless
innocent piece of feminine fluff-- what could she do? Still I didn't
have the strength to do what I knew I wanted to do--**** the sexy young
slut.

On Monday she proudly donned her Wonder Bra and wore it for me. She had
picked out a tight fluffy angora sweater that showed clearly displayed
her enhanced chest. She strutted like some show-girl in training with
her petite breasts thrust out comically. As we parted company on the
school grounds I watched the renewed interest the male students now paid
her. It wasn't till later in the day that I saw her again. Mr. Temple
had called me into his office.

"I'm very sorry this has happened, Meg, really I am," he insisted as we
satin his office behind closed doors.

"What are you talking about? What's the matter?" I demanded, suddenly
very cold.

"Your niece Stacie has been ****d." He shook his head sadly as he
imparted this bombshell.

"What?"

"It wasn't penetration so there's at least no danger of pregnancy," he
assured me. "How do I explain this?" His wise, kind eyes furrowed
gently and he went on. "It seems that the two boys in your class,
Frankie and Jed, took special interest in Stacie today and followed her
around all day telling her how pretty she was. Well, this evidently
upset the boys' girlfriends, Samantha and Beth. So the girls followed
Stacie into an empty class room and held her down. They, uh, pulled
Stacie's sweater off and again, evidently she was wearing one of those
Wonder Bras that, uh, add to the figure. Well, while Beth held Stacie
down, Samantha went to get the boys. When they got there, the
girlfriends showed the boys that Stacie was 'fooling' them with this new
bra. Then to punish Stacie for trying to steal their boyfriends,
Samantha and Beth invited the boys to, uh, well-- have poor Stacie
perform oral sex on them."

I listened to the story, too stunned to speak. He continued.

"The boys, uh, took turns with Stacie while the girls held her down till
they were finished. When they were through they tied Stacie's hands
behind her back with the WonderBra and between classes tied her to her
locker door out in the corridor bare chested. Uh, the girls wrote
something on her chest in lipstick--" but he stopped.

"What? What was it?" I demanded.

He paused then answered. "'Free Blowjobs.' When the class bell rang,
the k**s all went out and saw her tied up like that and-- oh, it's just
awful. Awful. Look, I think you ought to take her home now. We'll
need her to talk to the police but that can wait till tomorrow."

I agreed and Temple led me to poor Stacie who sat in the nurse's office,
sobbing hysterically. Taking her in my arms I led her to the car and in
silence drove her home. At last I knew my timing was right. I told
Stacie to get herself together and wait for me to call her. With a
thirst for her pert breasts, I quickly undressed and threw on a robe.
Without explaining, I went to her room and opened her underwear drawer.
I picked out two items and flung them purposely on the floor in front of
her.

"Strip and put them on. Then attend me in my bedroom." I uttered the
order flatly and harshly. returning to my bedroom, I dispensed with the
robe. I fluffed my pillows and reclined back on the bed, completely
nude. I slipped under the cover sheet and waited with a special
surprise for Stacie besides me.

"One more second and you're going over my knee, Stacie!" I bellowed.

In an instant she scampered in, out of her school clothes now and
wearing only what I wanted her in. Frightened, my ponytailed pet wore
only the pink Wonder Bra and Calvin Klein thong panties, also pink. She
had been forced to orally service two horny teenage boys, humiliated by
two girls her own age and now she was being made to strip to these
undies by me. What was happening?

"Play with your breasts Stacie. Show me how hot you are for someone to
touch them."

"I'm a good girl, Ms. Hardy!" she pleaded in confusion but she changed
her tune as I pulled out my surprise for her from under the covers-- a
riding crop. Her reticence was overcome by fear. Her small hands
slowly rose to the pink cotton bra'ed tits and slowly kneaded them.

I slapped the bed with the crop. "Sexy little bitch! Do it-- play with
your tits, my little prom queen!"

Stacie cupped her breasts more urgently and I could see the nipples
hardening.

"Take off your bra and show my those little hooters of yours, slut!"

She obeyed, her hands unhooking the bra and gingerly baring her modest
chest.

"Fried egg tits."

Stacie's face fell and she began to cry. I threw off the covers and
spread my legs. "Come service me. Come service your Mistress Meg,
pretty girl. You are a pretty girl aren't you?"

Stacie crawled up onto the bed, her brown eyes wet with tears. I cupped
her chin as her head found it's station between my legs. "I asked you a
question."

"Y-yes, Ms. Hardy! I am a pretty girl!" She was choking on her tears.
I could tell the way she was squirming that she probably had a hard-on
in her chastity belt under those sweet pink panties of hers.

"And now you'll be a pretty LESBIAN girl for your mistress. Won't you?
Will you be my sexy teen slavegirl lover?"

She didn't answer. Little bitch STILL was clinging to the idea that SHE
was really a HE! Imagine, even then-- when she was in her pretty pink
panties with her titties hanging out, nipples hot and hard-- even then
she still thought that deep inside she was Dino Fazio, high school tough
guy! It made me laugh.

"Tell you what, Stacie. You're going to be my private plaything, my
pretty lesbian slavegirl. You're going to learn all the things that a
woman wants from a pretty girl. I'm going to teach you all these
things. Ans some may hurt. But you're going to LIKE being a slavegirl,
always smiling because you want to please your mistress. And you know
why you're going to do these things?"

Stacie looked at up me from between my spread legs, lips quivering, in
anger of fear I couldn't tell.

"You're going to do these things because if you don't, then I'll hire
you out as a *********. Know what they do? They go to horny men's
apartments to get them off. I bet you'd be popular-- so young, so
innocent, so fresh. What healthy man won't want to stick it to a high
school teeny bopper. They'll use you good and hard and you'll bring the
money to me. Either that or I'll put you on the street to suck cocks
like you did today! You want to do that?"

His face dropped. And that was when HE knew that as bad as being my
bimbo would be, it was better than the alternative. "Please! No, I'll
be a good lesbian girl for my mistress! Please don't make me do that!
I don't want to do that for men! Please!"

"Fine, slut." I took hold of her ponytail and yanked it down. "Begin
your new duties missy. NOW!"

And so my **************** sex toy began to pleasure her mistress for
the first time. That night was long and memorable and Stacie learned
the first of many love lessons I would teach her-- how I expected her to
use that sweet tongue of hers on my nether regions, how I trained my new
pet to worship my body, erotic massages, toe sucking and more. After I
tired of her late in the night, I showed Stacie her new place of rest--
the foot of my bed. As I collared and leashed my sexkitten, I told her
she would have so much more to learn. As I drifted off to a blissful
sleep, I could hear her pathetic sniffling as she contemplated her new
life as a lesbian's sex slave.

The next morning, I laid down the new rules. There would be no more
school for Stacie and I would resign to see to her training full time,
to better teach her how to serve her mistress. In public I would be
"Ms. Hardy." At home-- Mistress Meg. She would wear her girlish
lingerie-- panties, bras, teddies, camisoles. But nothing else. Unless
I said so.

I left her to consider all this as I rode into the high school to finish
up the loose ends. Temple was surprised but understood that I needed to
spend more time with my niece-- especially after receiving Stacie's
written apology to her attackers.

Dear Mr. Temple,

Please don't punish Jed and Frankie for what happened. I was being a
slutty little cocktease and I loved sucking their cocks. I made up the
whole story about being ****d so people wouldn't know what a whore I am
and if Samantha and Beth hurt me, it was just because I was trying to
steal their boyfriends. I apologize to Frankie, Jed, Samantha and Beth
and promise never to do this again.

Love,
Stacie Fox

I explained that psychological attention was needed and Temple agreed. I
definitely needed to spend more time with my nympho niece.

That was three and a half years ago. I'm sitting at the beach now
outside my beach home watching Stacie as she frolics in the surf. She's
wearing the most eye-popping red string bikini. See her? She's
bouncing up and down in the water waving sweetly to us. I told her I
love to watch her make those little knockers of hers bounce for me and
she obeys me in this as she does all things. She's swivelling those
slim hips of hers painfully now. Poor thing-- I've been introducing her
to thicker and longer strap-on phalluses lately and she's so naturally
tight anyway. She doesn't cry as much as she did when I use her this
way, but it still hurts her. She's so obedient, just like a
domesticated pet.

Oh, sure Stacie is still blue about her new life. She tries to remove
her belt from time to time. I caught her once in the bathroom. I
cracked the door and found her looking into the mirror. There was a
frustrated frown on her young face as she examined her lithe body. She
was nude, having just dried herself from a shower. Her olive skin had
tanned marvelously in the Florida sun as her bikini tan lines
demonstrated. In one hand she clutched her small breast and in the
other she yanked impotently on the tiny, brightly polished stainless
stell chastity belt. She pulled at the thing till her face wrinkled in
pain-- all to no avail. She may as well have been trying to remove her
own skin.

"Damn!" Stacie cursed to herself. I could tell she was aroused.

Despondently she unhooked her fingers from the immovable chastity belt
and clutch her other breast, now holding both as if to offer the pair of
buds to some watcher in the mirror. She closed her eyes and began to
massage the nipples which sat high on the petite mounds. As she began
to moan, I knew she was pleasing herself the only way left to her now--
by playing with her small breasts. Young lust--a truly touching sight.

It's ironic. Please don't repeat this to my more millitant lesbian
friends, but I actually think that being born a male has helped make
Stacie a more attentive lover. Having been brought up to think HE would
be the sexual agressor, it was a delight to teach Stacie the role of the
feminine submissive, to learn the soft sighs of pain and frustration
that are the slavegirl's burden. I think HER submission is even more
complete because of it. As if in breaking Stacie of her maleness, I
have created an even more feminine, even more obedient playmate. Now
Stacie wouldn't think to kiss-- SHE is kissed. Stacie would ever take--
SHE is taken. She couldn't conceive of penetrating-- SHE is penetrated.
And she doesn't make passes-- SHE flirts. Oh my teenage girl is such a
sexy flirt these days. She's learned that when I'm using her sexually,
I'm kinder, more patient with her feminine ineptitude. Even now. See
how she's bending over to show me her butt in that tiny thing? Amazing
that the chastity belt stays hidden. Sooo cute and sexy. Too bad
she'll be leaving soon.

Diana called me last night and asked if she could have Stacie-- in
exchange for helping to capture and train a new girlie for me. Seems a
there's a gay football player who the Society is blackmailing to lose
games. Seems that the Society finds betting on "sure things" He's
behaving but to make sure he keeps throwing games, they want to give him
a toy-- to ensure his obedience to their wishes. And he loves brunettes
in red silk. I wonder how Stacie will get used to pleasing a man? I'm
sure she'll be fine. She made such a wonderful lesbian lover-- it's
good for a girl like Stacie to learn to please men as well as women.
And I'm sure she'll just love to dress up for her new lover in all the
hot foxy g-strings and slutty push-up bras I hear he likes. Diana says
he'll train her to striptease dance for him in her new pretties. He's a
big guy-- 6' 5" and two fifty pounds. Diana says he has a wicked
temper. Oh yes, Stacie will learn to please her new master-- or else!

Stacie's Master. How strange that seems to me!

Oh, well. Got to go! Diana will be here soon to pick Stacie up and I
have to call her in. I think I'll let it be a surprise. She's getting
used to them.

But of course at nineteen and a half, Stacie is getting out of the
innocent schoolgirl phase I find so sexy. Unlike Stacie's new master, I
like my pets in teeny bopper cotton thong panties and training bras.
Recently I've started teaching summer school again. And there just so
happens to be the naughtiest f******n year old boy in my class-- a Kenny
May. He's a blonde-- it's time for a blonde, don't you think? What do
you think of the name Kimberlee Maykiss, by the way?

THE END
------------------------------------
This file came from
Sierra Connection BBS
Serving the Gender Community from Nevada
702-825-4220 8-N-1 28.8 VF (4 Nodes)

Home of the Fiction Story Writing Contest
Home of the Gif Beauty Contest

--
x-x-x-x-x-x-x
Lisa's TG Library posts stories on the Internet newsgroups
for the enjoyment of adults only. Lisa Blades did not
write the stories she posts (unless specifically noted)
and does not claim any ownership or responsibility for
these stories. If you would like to have a story posted
without using your account, please e-mail them to Lisa
with a title and byline and she will post them under her
own account name. Thanks. Hope you enjoyed the story.













Synopsis:

David had a big fight with his girlfriend and stormed off during a big storm. A crash in the night left him freezing and seeking help. When he thought he could go no further he found help in the form of Nurse Jane. He might have been better off if he never found her remote farm. Not for the sweet sentimental reader.
Categories: Cultural Change Femdom, Authoritarian Good Boy To Bad Girl Horror Lingerie Mind Altered, Hypnosis, Brainwashed Sexual Punishment Slow Transformation Stuck
Keywords: Appliances Attached Breast Implants Castration Chastity Belts Corsets Defiant Hormones Long Finger Nails

Nurse Jane

By Cheryl Lynn

A forced feminization tale but I think more of a horror story. The usual
disclaimers apply and unauthorized use strictly forbidden. Not for the
sweet sentimental reader so be warned. Constructive comments are always
welcome at cheryl2lynn@yahoo.com.

Nurse Jane

David Samuels was driving down the farm road in the middle of nowhere in
a torrential rainstorm. The windshield wipers were thump-thwacking
loudly on high and not helping all that much. He could barely see past
his hood in the downpour. Driving as fast as he could, he still had at
least another hour before reaching the nearest motel. He was dog tired,
his eyes red and swollen from concentration. It was pitch black outside
with only lightening to brighten up the sky. Off to his left were miles
and miles of either forest or ranch land. To his right a raging torrent
in what was normally a dry river bed and the occasional tree.

He was going to his Aunt Martha's place to get some peace and quite. She
was his mother's older sister and a good friend. When his mother passed
away two years ago, she stepped in and brought him comfort and
compassion. He was always welcome at her remote farm and he enjoyed
staying there especially when he was troubled.

"Damnit, I can't see shit in this! Fuck! Fuck! Why did I have to come
out in this shit? Damn you Gloria, this is all your fault," he cursed
wiping his arm across his tied eyes.

Earlier he had a big fight with his girlfriend of two years. It had
gotten to the point where he wanted to hit her. Instead, he turned,
grabbed his keys and hit the road. It looked like rain but he didn't
care. All he wanted was to get the hell away from her and her *****sant
demands for him to set a date. Just because she was pregnant didn't mean
they had to get married. Hell, he knew plenty of people who weren't
married and still had a brood of k**s. Why did she have to be so
stubborn?

He had been driving for six hours and exhaustion was getting the better
of him. He rubbed his eyes once again, when he could see, his eyes went
wide. There just at the edge of vision stood a cow in the middle of the
road. Not thinking, just reacting, he hit the brakes. The car
immediately hydroplaned, he over corrected, then nothing.

Ooo

David slowly regained consciousness, his head bleeding. Everything was
dark but could see movement. Forcing open his door with a loud metal on
metal screech, he stumbled out. His car had rammed head on into a very
large old willow tree, the movement he had seen were the withering lithe
branches of the willow. The branches completely hid the car from the
road way. He stepped around the back of the car, slipped on the wet
grass of the river's embankment and slid waist deep into the muddy
churning waters. Grasping at anything in desperation, he found the
willow's branches and with a grunt pulled himself to safety. Carefully
he made his way safely to the farm road. He was soaked through and
through, caked with mud and shivering from the cold.

He stood cursing to high heaven for a few moments before deciding to head
down the road. He had very little hope that some other idiot would be
out driving in this rain and would pick him up. Looking down to keep the
rain out of his eyes and wrapping his arms around his torso began
walking. David didn't know how long he walked but knew that if he didn't
find shelter soon would be in a world of hurts.

He was shivering fiercely and didn't have a dry spot on his body when he
saw a wavering dim light not too far away on his left. Praying that it
was a farm house or at least a barn staggered towards it. As he neared,
a brilliant flash of lightening lit up the sky giving him a good view of
the Victorian styled house. There was a light coming from above the
front door. Using the last bit of his strength and determination reached
the door and banged its large brass dragon shaped knocker, once, twice
then collapsed in a heap, the last of his strength gone.

Ooo

David slowly become conscious, his eyelids fluttered open only to squeeze
shut in the bright light. Groaning, he tried to raise an arm to cover
his eyes but it felt like lead. Keeping his eyes closed let his mind
take in his body and surroundings. He ached all over, had a fever but
otherwise seemed okay. He was laying on a soft comforting mattress and
what felt like silk sheets. He tried to sit up but discovered that he
was restrained around the chest and his left arm securely fastened down.
Opening his eyes he noticed an IV in his left arm.

"What's going on?" he thought as he raised his head and looked around the
room.

David shook his head trying to get the cobwebs out but only made the dull
ache flare into intense pain. Moaning loudly he dropped his head back
onto the pillow and squeezed his eyes tightly as a wave of dizziness and
pain overwhelmed him. Groaning he didn't notice someone inject something
into the IV and passed into blissful u*********sness.

His eyes fluttered a few times before he came fully awake. He saw a
fuzzy shape hovering over him. Blinking a couple of times, the figure
became clear. It was an elderly woman hovering over him pressing a cold
cloth to his forehead. Her deeply tanned face was wrinkled and unadorned
with any makeup. She had long mostly gray hair hanging in tight braids
almost touching his chest. What was striking about the old woman, were
her intense blue eyes. Seeing that he was awake, she gave him a tight
thin lipped smile.

"How do you feel?"

"Like I was hit by a train," he managed to croak.

She put a straw to his lips. The cool water rushed into his mouth and
down his parched throat. "What...," he started to say but hushed by the
woman.

"No, don't go talking. I had to put a tube down your throat to open the
airway. You were about to meet your maker when I found you at my door
step. The worse case of hypothermia I've ever seen plus a bit mangled.
With the weather like it was last week I figured some kind of car
accident. I went out after the storm to check but couldn't find no
wreck. Now I'm going to give you another sedative so you can sleep a bit
more then we'll talk later."

"A week? I've been out that long?" were his last thoughts before
blackness overtook him.

Ooo

When she found David crumpled at her front door, Jane initially mistook
the thin long haired youth for a girl. If she didn't have that old
wheelchair folded up in the hall closet, probably wouldn't have been able
to get him into the house. She knew he was almost dead from exposure and
quickly dumped him into the tub of hot water to bring his temperature up.
It wasn't until she cut away his clothing while he soaked in the tub that
she discovered her error in judgment. He might have been small and thin
of stature but she was impressed by the girth and length of his flaccid
penis and tennis ball sized scrotum. She didn't waste time looking at
his manhood, it was too important to get his inner core temperature up.
Working quickly she gave him a warm water enema while still in the bath
using a butt plug to stop any discharge. He grunted when she drove the
plug home but didn't wake.

She leaned back on her heels smiling broadly. "So you don't like taking
it up the ass do you?" she thought.

When his temperature rose to a safe level, she dried him off before
sitting him on the toilet. He was out cold and limp as a wet dish rag
straining the old woman's abilities to the limit. Finally she had him in
the spare bedroom and placed the IV in his arm. The normal saline
solution would keep him hydrated, deliver an antibiotic and sedative.
She then bandaged the cut on his forehead and cleaned the other minor
sc****s.

In the morning she went out in search of what she believed a car
accident. She found the car by pure chance as the northerly wind whipped
the thick limps of the big willow revealing brief glimpses of the red
car. Once she had checked it out, decided it was her guest's. The key
was still in the ignition and turned off. She turned it on but only the
dashboard lit up. Smiling she forced the transmission into neutral and
got out of the car quickly, pushing on the door frame as hard as she
could. She watched with a broad smile as the car slid down and
disappeared in the brown raging waters.

"Now I've got you my pretty," she crackled as she got back into her car
and sped away.

Ooo

Jane was orphaned early in life and sent to live with a reclusive uncle.
In return for room and board he forced himself on her, taking her
virginity and dignity by physical assault. Her first and only date was
her junior prom as with her uncle she was forced into doing sexual
favors. Graduating she left with scholarship in hand for nursing school.
Again graduating with honors, she quickly found employment as a surgical
nurse. Within a few years she could have stepped in for any surgeon but
treated by the doctors like nothing more than a waitress cleaning tables.

Back then she was very good looking but her hatred of the male population
prevented a normal relationship. In time she met a woman, slightly
older, who shared her hatred. That woman also taught her the ways of
Sappho of Lesbos. She was content for a time until her lover's murder by
a r****t. She was not a stupid woman, closer to the crazed genius level
of intelligence but the loss of her lover drove her hatred of men to near
madness.

With her lover dead, she left both her job and the big city to return to
the old farm house once owned by her hated uncle. He had left it and the
one hundred acres of citrus trees to her. After cleaning out anything
and everything that reminded her of him, she took to taking long walks
through the fragrant trees. During one of those strolls she came across
migrant workers plucking the ripe fruit. Seeing the women, some pregnant
doing the heavy labor decided to give them medical assistance. She
refused to see male patients unless it was a matter of life or death.
Over the years she was midwife, doctor and psychiatrist, all done without
a license to practice in the privacy of her large house. Hearing their
stories of abuse and neglect only reaffirmed her hatred of men.

Eventually she sold off the citrus portion of the farm but still saw to
the women of the migrant camp when they showed up. She was well loved by
the Latino women, some in a physical way but she remained a very bitter
somewhat crazed woman. She was wealthy from the sale of the land and her
hatred of men a fiery blaze in her heart. Now with David captive in her
house and with absolutely no one the wiser, she could take out some of
that hatred.

Ooo

Arriving at the house satisfied no one would suspect her of harboring
David, she got him on a gurney. She wheeled him into her surgical suite
and spent the next seven hours making a change here and a change there.
She kept him sedated for a week then let him come to semi-consciousness
for a brief period before putting him back under.

Back in her surgical suite she had him on his stomach working between the
cheeks on his anus. When she finished it looked amazingly like the
entrance to a vagina with nice puffy lips. Next she moved down to his
lower legs and shortened his Achilles tendons. Whistling a happy tune
she wheeled him back to his bed.

"Thank you Esmeralda for that delicious idea," she thought.

Esmeralda was one of the women she treated for a tear in her anal
passage. During the procedure Jane was surprised to see she also had a
penis and scrotum. She wanted to kick herself for treating a male but he
had her completely fooled until then. Jane almost felt sorry for him
when he told her he was the new unwilling camp whore. Apparently he
wasn't macho enough for his father. He was too frail to do the heavy
labor of the men, the family needed money and the camp whores made good
money.

Ooo

David woke to pain. Nothing serious but he hurt all over. He was
disorientated for a few moments then remembered the accident. He tried
to sit up but was firmly secured in place. Looking around he vaguely
recognize the room and wondered why he was still bound to the bed. It
really wasn't until he noticed the big mound on his chest that he became
scared.

"Wha...what...hap...happened?" he hoarsely whispered.

Again a straw was placed to his lips and he sucked greedily for the cool
refreshing water. Feeling better but still scared, he managed to speak
louder, "What happened and where am I?"

"You were in a bad accident and nearly managed to kill yourself with
hypothermia. You're just lucky to have found my place and I was able to
save you. It was touch and go there for awhile but you'll live."

"Yeah, I remember crashing into that big tree and the rain but nothing
much after that. Who are you?"

"Call me Nurse Jane and this is my home. You've been here almost a
month now but you need to stay in bed. I still have a bit of work to do
on you. Guess you're a might hungry by now so relax and I'll get you
something to eat."

Refried black beans, rice and small orange he didn't consider food but
ate every bit. "I've got you on a soft diet for now, just until your
system recovers. Unless you start to feel a great deal of pain, I won't
sedate you any more. Now let me address your health issues. First, you
damaged your pelvic region and I had to stop the bleeding. Next, your
Achilles tendons were torn and I repaired those best I could. Your two
lower ribs were crushed beyond salvage. Right now you have a catheter
and anal drain to remove body wastes. Other than that you are healing
nicely and should be up and around in a few days. Have any questions?"

"Questions? Yeah, like what is this big heavy lump doing on my chest and
why my skin looks reddish brown?"

"Nothing to worry about but you will find out soon enough. Now I have
other matters to attend to but I'll adjust your position so you can watch
the television."

She raised the back of the bed and David felt the weight on his chest sag
downward. Jane went over to the television and played a DVD on Migrant
Workers telling him to watch it closely. She left the room before he
could complain and for some reason watched the program closely.

"I don't give a shit about this kind of show so why can't I take my eyes
off it?"

It wasn't until Jane came back into the room and turned off the set that
David snapped back out of his trance. She brought him a tray with his
lunch on it. It wasn't any more substantial than breakfast consisting of
refried black beans, rice and two small corn tortillas. For some reason
he didn't question the strange mix of food and ate every morsel. As he
finished eating she injected something into his IV then inserted a new
DVD into the player and turned it on.

"I could have sworn I just had breakfast and I've never eaten those kinds
of beans before. What the....she's put some weird porno on," he thought as
she left the room telling him to pay close attention. Again he couldn't
take his eyes off the Brazilian chick with a dick entertain three Latino
men.

He didn't take his eyes off the screen until Jane turned it off and gave
him his supper. Supper was the same as his lunch except the black beans
were in a soup spiced with cilantro and onions. When he had finished he
watched another DVD on Honduran culture. At bed time she injected a
sedative and another psychotropic d**g. When they took effect put ear
buds into his ears and started a Spanish language recording.

For a seven days David followed the same routine and eating the same
meals. By the end of that time he was a very confused and disoriented.
It seemed like he had two different minds. In one he was David in the
other he was a Brazilian she male with a Honduran back ground and a
migrant camp follower.

"I think I'm going crazy! I've got two voices in my head! When I told
Nurse Jane she said it was a natural side effect of the d**gs and not to
worry. I try not to worry but I'm scared, really scared I'm losing my
mind," he thought but cast it aside when the DVD came on. This DVD was
about Latino hair styles and fashion. The one shown after lunch was
another Brazilian she male porno. Except in this one the boy/girl had
big breasts and the action involved mostly titty fucking. The last one
was a Latino makeup application lesson.

By the end of another week David was speaking mostly in Spanish and had
asked for some makeup and clothing. Nurse Jane gave him the requested
items and allowed him to get out of bed for the first time. He was
extremely weak and had to be assisted moving around. His muscles had
atrophied and the five inch stiletto heels didn't help but he insisted on
them.

Ooo

David looked on helplessly as he pulled the scarlet nylon high cut
panties up his smooth legs. He cringed in horror not so much from the
panties but the two large D-cup sized breasts blocking his view. The
matching red satin uplift bra did nothing to ease his revulsion. A red
floral embroidered waist chinch garter belt and sheer red nylons he put
on like he had done it a thousand times. The matching heavily lace
frilled camisole and matching half slip completed his lingerie selection.

Stepping into the five inch spike heeled red patent leather pumps Jane
assisted him in moving over to the full length mirror. David's horror
quickly changed to terror as he viewed the image of a Latino woman in
bright red glistening lingerie with amazing tatas reflected back. His
mind reeled when Jane reached down and lowered his panties. His once
very impressive penis was now nothing more than a limp skinny four inches
with a very large head and ball sack. It looked a lot like the one on
that Brazilian she male he had last viewed getting titty fucked.

The terror David felt was only in a small portion of his brain. The
majority of his mind viewed the image with pride and pleasure. As
impossible as it seemed David had become a Honduran she male who loved
looking like he did. What he didn't know nor ever would was that Nurse
Jane had been feeding him a witch's brew concocted by a Honduran medicine
woman. Made of rare tropical jungle plants and a****l fluids, the d**g
made the mind morph into what the victim was taught to be. In David's
case all those DVDs had changed most of his mind.

He walked unassisted to the vanity where he began putting on heavy makeup
using bright colors to bring out his eyes and scarlet lipstick. His
dirty blonde hair was a total mess and all he could do with it was put it
into a high pony tail. Going over with a sexy swish to the closet he
donned a white semi-sheer V-necked balloon sleeved polyester blouse and a
very tight black satin mid-thigh straight skirt. A red wide belt with
large gold buckle completed his outfit. Back in front of the mirror
David screamed but what came out of his mouth was a husky, "Muy Bonita."
Red glamour length nailed hands reached up and cupped the breasts and
jiggled them as a large grin spread across the image's face. What
remained of David submerged even further into the recesses of his brain.
Jane handed him a pair of large red plastic hoops, a bunch of brassy
wrist bangles, several rings and a necklace of red plastic beads to put
on.

What little of David's awareness remained was screaming, "No, no this
can't be happening. What has that woman done to me? No! This can't be
real so why can't I stop doing this? This has to be a horrible
nightmare."

"Now listen to me carefully. You are Maria Gonzales Santiago and you
work in the migrant camp. Your job is to please all the men in the camp.
You don't do that and you won't get your ration of rice and beans. David
no longer exists but as a small voice to be ignored. He will try to stop
you but you will ignore him. All that matters is you earn money for your
family. Amelia will be here soon to pick you up and take you to the
camp. You will obey her always. She is your mother and will look out
for you."

The eyes of the Latino woman opened widely as she exclaimed, "Oh, me
madre she come get me. Es muy bien. Grasias Senora Jane."

Ooo

Amelia arrived as Maria was watching a DVD about the geography and
history of Honduras. "Senora Jane I come as quickly as I could. Is
Maria ready to join our camp now, yes?"

"As ready as he ever will be. I am happy you agreed to take him into
your family Amelia. Please thank your shaman Angelina for all her help."

"No need to thank us after all the years you have helped the women of the
camp. We would do anything you ask Senora. Besides with the extra money
coming in the whole family will benefit."

"Okay you ready to meet your new daughter? Come and I'll introduce you
to Maria Gonzales."

The young Latino girl looked a bit confused when introduced to her mother
but only hesitated a few seconds before rushing into her arms. Amelia
was surprised at how authentic David looked not only as a woman but as a
Latino. The only thing that stood out as different was the dirty blonde
hair. Before they left in a beat up old truck she dyed the hair black
and put it into large bristle curlers.

Maria met over twenty extended family members at the camp where he was
welcomed enthusiastically. The women and girls gave him hugs and air
kisses while the man gave a hug and slap to David's plump rear. Amelia
showed him to his new room which he would share with three other girls.
There were two old metal bunk beds with thin mattresses and dingy linens
in the small room along with a wooden desk, two wooden chairs and lamp.
At the foot and head of the bunk beds were two steamer trunks. He was
told the top bed on the right was his and opening his trunk saw that it
was half filled with clothing. It wasn't until he looked down into the
trunk that he noticed the room had a dirt floor.

Once Maria had seen the four other rooms in the wooden shack, he was
taken to where the outhouse was located. He had to pee desperately and
didn't give a second thought to sitting on the small bench seat with a
hole in the middle. From there he was shown the cafeteria/cantina where
the migrants ate their meals and partied at night.

"Maria once supper is over and you help the other women clean up it is
your responsibility to please whatever man desires you. Just you make
sure you get his money before you do anything other than kiss. You get $
2 for a blow job and $ 5 for anything else, understand? Good. Since you
are a camp whore you don't have to help prepare the meals. Spend that
time making yourself look sexy.

Maria was taken out a side entrance over to a row of four tents. Inside
his tent was a thin mattress, a bucket of water, a enameled pan and hand
towel.

"This is where you bring your man to entertain. The water is for you to
clean yourself before returning to the cantina. Make sure you have a
tampon in your purse for when you have finished for the night. Now come
I want you to meet Esmeralda. She is the one you give the money too and
you do what she says. She's the madam of the camp whores."

Esmeralda was not that pleased to see Maria but knew she would bring in a
lot of money. "With those big tits and full lips she'll make even the
real girls jealous. Make good money for her family too which will hurt
mine. I'll just make sure she gets all the roughest biggest hombres. In
a couple of weeks she'll be so stretched out none of the others will be
able to feel a thing. A cocksucker don't make that much denaro."

And so Maria/David's life as a camp whore for a migrant labor camp began.
She lived in squalor and filth subsisting on rice and beans until in time
helped with the cooking.












Nurse Jane Part 2
By Cheryl Lynn



David awoke his screams of agony echoing off the tin roof of the shanty.
In a panic he looked around at the unfamiliar surroundings gasping. He
was lying in a bunk bed staring at the rusty tin roof. He was wearing a
bright yellow nylon baby doll nightie with lots of white lace frills.
The low round bodice exposed two large firm mounds. The memory of the
fat Mexican with the acne covered face and twisted brown teeth fucking
his ass still vivid in his mind.

"No, oh no, I can't wake up! I'm still in this horrible nightmare! Come
on wake up!" his mind shouted.

"Maria, Maria what's the matter?" he heard someone shout.

As quickly as the panic had set in, it was gone. "Mamma, I'm sorry, it
was just a bad dream."

Amelia looked David over carefully, her frown turned into a smile. "It's
okay Maria. You're safe with your familia but it's time to get up. Come
help me fix breakfast. The others have to get into the fields soon."

David carefully got out of his upper bunk and stepped into his red patent
leather five inch stiletto pumps. The heels sank a bit into the dirt
floor but they were the only shoes he owned. Quickly he wrapped a dark
yellow nylon hip length robe about him and went out the door.

There was a small make shift kitchen in the main room of the shanty.
Amelia was stirring a blackened iron pot hung over a charcoal blazer.
Seeing Maria she pointed to the sideboard. A ceramic bowl held the ball
of dough to make tortillas. Maria quickly began taking smaller lumps
from the bowl and formed a small ball between her palms then patted them
out into flat cakes. He handed each one to Amelia who placed it on a
flat piece of iron next to her iron pot. They worked in tandem and soon
a large pile of small tortillas was ready. As the last piece of dough
was worked, family members began coming into the room. Grabbing a small
bowl and table spoon as they came in were soon eating black beans and
rice. David went around refilling their tin cups with hot thick coffee.
He blushed slightly knowing that every time he bent to refill a cup his
large breasts threatened to pop out of the thin nylon cover.

After everyone had eaten and left for the fields, Amelia and Maria
finished off what was left. Telling Maria to clean up she left to get
ready for the day. David pulled the number three washtub from under the
sideboard. Washing dishes was a very tedious process as Maria had to go
to the well, draw the water then heat it over the blazer. In some
respects this campensena was better than most in that it had three public
water taps and Maria didn't have that far to walk. By the time he
finished, he was exhausted and more than ready to hit the community
showers.

David didn't think twice about walking to the community showers dressed
in his nightie and robe. The camp like the shanties they lived in were
crowded and modesty a very rare commodity. The showers were a series of
four tin cubicles with a white plastic curtain to provide some modesty.
As the cold water washed over him, David's nipples hardened as his body
tingled with goose bumps. A brief pleasant memory of taking a hot shower
flashed through his mind but quickly vanished.

Dried he picked up the emerald green nylon full cut panties with the
white lace insert on the front from the pile of clothing laying on the
shower rack. The matching bra, camisole and half slip followed. A white
peasant puff sleeved blouse and yellow cotton with green floral printed
hem completed his dressing. Stockings would have been nice but those he
had to save for tonight. Hose were expensive and couldn't be risked
doing chores.

As he was leaving the showers, Esmeralda was walking up. "Buenos dias
Maria. Como esta? You did good for your first night. Edwardo seemed
very pleased when he left by the way. Said he wants to see you again
tonight," she said with a laugh.

Immediately David had a flashback. Edwardo was that fat ugly Mexican who
smelled like the pig sty with the pock marked face. He had paid for a
blow job and fuck. David gagged at the remembrance and it took all his
will power not to throw up in front of Esmeralda. For a moment the sight
of that long thin uncircumcised shaft and the taste of the crud as the
foreskin folded back were almost too much. Only the idea of not letting
Esmeralda see his humiliation kept him from tossing up breakfast.

"Buen gracias," he replied and rushed off, his face turning white as he
gulped down the bile.

Back in the shack he helped Amelia clean the house and make the beds.
With those chores done he was given a large pile of dirty clothing while
she carried the washtub and soap. They spent the rest of the morning
washing the clothing at the communal water tap. There were a number of
other women there doing the same and most of the conversation was
general. As far as most of them were concerned Maria was just another
girl too weak to work the fields. For his part David didn't mind too
much as the work was dull and tedious. It was mind numbing in some
respects which he welcomed. There were too many disturbing thoughts
running through his head.

He was doing okay until he picked up the red panties he had worn the
night before. The crusty brownish-red stain in the crotch made him
flinch and he quickly thrust them into the soapy water. A picture of
Edwardo leaning over his shoulder, drool dripping down his flabby lips as
he pumped away, made him shiver. He tried his best to dismiss that
thought by thinking how the money would help his family. Being a camp
whore was not easy but it earned his and his family's rice and beans.

After a late lunch of rice, beans and fried plantains David was allowed
to take a nap. He needed to feel rested before starting his evening's
work. Again his dreams were filled with nightmares. Pictures of a young
pretty girl flashed through his mind. "Gloria," he mumbled as he tossed
in his sleep. Her face was replaced by one of Julio. Julio was fucking
him between his large breasts. The purple head of his dick seemingly
swelling to an impossible size as ropes of sticky white cum began
squirting. The gooey cum splashing on his upper chest, covering his chin
and lips as Julio grunted loudly in his ear. The smell of musk, dirt and
sweat filled his nose as Julio's body crashed down on him was almost
overpowering.

Again the dream shifted to him squatting over the ceramic bowl splashing
water to cleanse his burning rear. The utter humiliation he felt then as
the Latino male watched before turning, pulling up his zipper and leaving
the tent. The nightmare continued as he took a dollop of cold cream and
soothed it into his hole then pulling the lilac satin sheath dress down
over sore and aching nipples. Back into the cantina, mincing heel and
toe due to the tight restrictiveness of the mid-calf length skirt to
flirt. The deep V-neck of the dress revealed a large expanse of
cleavage. He cupped them to settle them into the cups of his green bra
as he reached the bar. He wanted a shot of tequila badly but that cost
money he didn't have.

In his sleep he licked his lips as the image of a small Manhattan shaped
glass was set on the bar filled with the golden tequila. He saw his
scarlet painted nails reach out for it, only to have his hand grabbed and
pushed down into a sweaty crotch. It was Edwardo with a broad smile
standing beside him. He woke sweating and shivering as the nightmare
faded.

Ooo

It was time to move on and the rusty pickup was piled high near to
overflowing. The citrus orchards were plucked clean and it was time to
move north. It was fall and apples were waiting to be picked. David
found himself jammed between two of his younger sisters with a baby on
his lap in the family's beat up sedan. The baby had tossed up on his
shoulder and the smell was beginning to bother him. He shrugged off his
discomfort. Just another dismal day filled with body odors and smells of
living so closely together.

His only comforting thought was that with the move and setting up in a
new campensina he wouldn't have to work that night. His poor bottom hole
needed time off as it had been in high demand over the past two months.
Esmeralda made sure his clients were the biggest, ugliest men in the
camp. Edwardo was the worst and most steady client. His penis wasn't
that thick but he got off fisting Maria's ass pussy while getting a blow
job. David was bothered by how many tampons and pads he had to use to
control leakage. Such necessities were not that cheap and the few
dollars he was given for personal needs usually went to the Goodwill
store. A good camp whore had to wear nice satin dresses if she wanted to
make good money. Now that her boy pussy was so stretched, more of her
clients just wanted blow jobs. Blow jobs didn't pay well and much more
personal. While taking it in the back he could close his eyes but oral
required that he keep them open. Plus swallowing cum was much worse than
removing a used condom from his butt.

He let his mind wonder as the dull scenery along the interstate drifted
past. An image formed in his mind which was something that was becoming
more frequent. It was the image of a beautiful girl. This time he
heard her speak, "David I want us to have a family. Marry me." The
flash back made him jerk upright almost spilling the baby off his lap and
making his head throb painfully.

"Wha...what's happening?" he groaned painfully.

"Maria, Maria are you okay?" Amelia asked from the front seat.

"I...I don't know....I had...had this thought...oh my head hurts," he groaned
leaning his head back.

"Maria did you remember to take your medicine today? You know Angelina
said you had to take it daily."

"No...no not yet...I...I forgot," he said reaching into his purse to extract
the brown bottle.

He hated taking the bitter medicine she had given him but it did make the
awful headaches go away. Angelina was the camp's shaman and other than
Nurse Jane the only person with any medical knowledge. She was not only
highly regarded but had her own travel trailer with an indoor toilet.
Angelina had given her the medicine the first day she had arrived with
Amelia saying it would keep her healthy.

"A camp whore needs to stay healthy," she had said. "Drink this once a
day every day to keep you that way."

At first he took it every day but after a short while began skipping a
day or two. It not only tasted horrible but the cost of the medicine was
taken from his earnings. The medicine only lasted a week but cost the
equivalent of a full night's work. David didn't think skipping a day or
two would make him sick.

Ooo

The new camp was better but the fall weather much colder in the apple
orchards. Each shanty had a fireplace, a sink with running water and
slightly better insulation but still very crowded. The shanty smelt
heavily of wood smoke and old age but he was happy. He claimed the
bottom bunk and the outhouse was only a short walk. In the cold crisp
mornings a short walk was good and the communal showers had hot water.
What made the camp especially nice was that it had a small Laundromat
even if the appliances were old. The main common areas had electric
power, the shanties didn't but still it was much nicer than the old one.

David pulled his shawl tighter across his bosom shivering in the cold as
he looked at the cantina. Unlike the old one this one was completely
enclosed and had several one bedroom wooden shacks near by. He opened
the door to the one that had been assigned to him. It had a concrete
floor dyed green, a twin bed with thin musty smelling stained mattress, a
small propane space heater and a wash stand with running cold water.

A chipped and peeling mirror hung over the wash stand. David looked into
it and wasn't pleased seeing his reflection. His face looked older,
wrinkles and bags under tired eyes. His face looked fatter more round and
he turned away.

"I look as tired as I feel. Being a camp whore is not easy but what else
can I do? I made good money for my family when I was the new girl but
now...I'm quickly becoming just another old whore," he thought turning his
attention back to the room.

The bedside table had a small lamp on top and the expected chipped
enameled white basin underneath. It didn't take him long to put sheets
on the bed and a few personal items in the drawer of the bedside table.
It wasn't much but better than a tent.

Other than being in a new camp life settled quickly into normal routine.
He helped Amelia make breakfast, do the cleaning and washing in the
mornings. Rested in the afternoon and worked the cantina at night. His
flashbacks were coming more frequently often waking in a cold sweat and
trembling.

"These dreams are weird, so real yet so...different. I know I'm a
campensina whore but...they seem so real. Why am I having dreams of being
a gringo and a man at that? Yes I'm a man but a weak one who can't work
the fields. Not the man I see in my dreams. I'm nothing more than a
Honduran she male whore and my family needs all the money I can earn.
Maybe I need to speak to Senora Angelina. She's our shaman and knows
many things but expensive. Amelia is calling to help with breakfast.
I'll worry about this later," he thought slipping his feet into the red
heels. As they were doing the morning wash David mentioned that he
needed some new clothing. Amelia gave him a hard look but nodded her
head.

"Si, you do need a coat and some new shoes. Once the washing is done I
will take you into town," she replied.

The trip into town was a group event usually reserved for once a month
but it was nice to get away without being with the entire camp. Migrant
laborers were not a welcome sight in the small farming towns. This was
his first trip into the town since they arrived and not much different
than the one left behind. It was obvious that the locals only put up
with them because they were a source of cheap labor. Many of the
businesses in town wouldn't serve them if they came in. Amelia from
previous visits knew where to go and took a back street to the Latin
barrio. The barrio wasn't large but had a grocery, cantina and the
store. There she pulled up in front of a bright pink painted metal
building with a Thrift Store sign.

Inside there were rows of tables piled high with used clothing, household
items and other sundries. Against the walls were racks and racks of
dresses, petticoats and men's pants and suits. The owner was a portly
Nicaraguan woman with distinct Mayan features. She was wearing a long
sleeved bright yellow satin blouse and forest green cotton full skirt. A
bright multicolored woven sash was around her ample waist and a pair of
simple brown sandals completed her dressing.

When Amelia told her what they were looking for she grinned broadly and
ushered them into a back corner. There were bales of clothing stacked in
that corner and she led them to one just opened. She dug around in the
loose pile and pulled out a scarlet satin and net dress.

"I buy clothing by the pound from various charities," she said pointing
to the bales. "It's easier and more economical for them to do that than
try to resell. Mostly the clothing has minor rips and tears but still
good."

"I saw this dress when I opened the bale this morning," she continued
shaking it out. "I think it will fit your...your camp girl. As you can
see the net skirting is loose in spots but it can be easily sewn. Come,
you try it on."

The flaming red dress had cap sleeves with a low round neckline, tight
fitted bodice stitched with red sequins down to the waist. From the
waist it was hobble skirted with a mass of red net from mid-calf to just
above the ankles. David looked at it with two minds. On the one hand it
was absolutely the most sensuous dress he had ever seen and on the other,
just as disgusting. His disgust melted as he took the dress in his hands
and felt the sleek lustrous material and went to the changing room. It
didn't take him long to put it on but couldn't get the zipper all the way
up.

When the shop owner saw him, she made a tsking sound and walked off but
came back quickly. In her hands was a bright purple satin wire boned
waist cinch with black ruffled lace trim. Making a twirling sign with
her finger, David turned his back to her. With the bodice lowered, the
cinch was fastened around his waist and the dress pulled back up. This
time the zipper closed. It was almost impossible to walk in as the satin
skirt had little give. It forced him to take very small mincing steps
while swinging his ass provocatively. Amelia immediately said she would
take it.

In addition to the dress and cinch, a purple satin with black lace
detailing up lift balconet bra was added. Moving over to the coat racks
Amelia picked out a pink dyed rabbit fur coat which had seen better days
but the price was right. All David would have to do would be stitch up
the loose champagne satin lining to make it wearable. Shoes were next
and they settled upon a pair of black patent leather pointed toed pumps
with five inch spike heel.

"We spent a lot of money today Maria but I think that dress will pay for
itself. The men won't be able to take their eyes off your butt and chest
so make sure you work it tonight. There will be men from the other camps
here tonight. Something about forming a union but that's none of our
business. Once they finish talking business they will want to celebrate.
So you know what to do but do it quickly," Amelia said as they drove back
to the camp.

David sat on his steamer trunk squinting in the lamp light as he sewed
the separated net back on the skirt's hem. There was a fleeting memory
of a brightly lit apartment as he worked. He paused and looked around
the small dim bedroom. Shaking his head he went back to his sewing.

That night a half dozen campensena Jefes from nearby camps entered the
cantina. David was sitting with the other bar girls against one wall
chatting when they arrived. David noted that most of the camp bosses
were in their mid to late fifties but one looked much younger. The
younger one spotted David and gave him a brilliant smile before sitting
at the rough hewn wooden table. Tequila was passed around and the men
got down to business.

David had a flash back that made his head throb. He was wearing a navy
three piece suit, crisp white dress shirt and red tie. He was standing
at the head of a polished oaken conference table with a dozen other
similarly dress men. Moaning in pain, he grabbed his head as a tear ran
down his cheek. He hadn't taken his medicine in two days. Now he
scrambled for it in his purse and took a big swallow. Slowly the
pounding in his head eased.

"I must be going loco but why are these dreams so real? It's like I had
a different life than as a campensena whore. Maybe I'm possessed by some
evil spirit. Senora Angelina knows of the spirit world maybe I need to
see her. Amelia has already spent too much money on me. I can't ask her
to spend more for me to speak with the shaman."

David's thoughts were broken as a shadow crossed his face. Looking up he
saw the young Jefe standing in front of him. "Buenos noches, come dance
with me," he said reaching out his hand.

"I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn't realize the music started.
At least this one is both young and cute," he thought then said, "Si
Jefe."

They danced to three songs before the young man whose name was Roberto
Cortez led him over to a table. There to David's surprise he bought him
a tequila which unlike usual wasn't tea. He had an enchanting brilliant
white toothed smile and sparkling eyes. As they talked David found him
self wishing that he was a real girl and not a camp whore or boy girl.
This Roberto was both good looking and captivating. Two tequilas later,
David had a pleasant warmth in his stomach and talking freely about his
life growing up in Honduras, his family and other details of camp life.
For the first time since joining his family David was having a good time.
That came to an end when Amelia came over and whispered harshly into his
ear. Blushing David was reminded he had work to do.

"Errrr Roberto, I'm sorry but you do know what I am and I must earn my
keep. So unless you want to take me to my cabin I must go."

"Yes, I know but I wanted to get to know you before I asked you. Come
let's go to your cabin," he said grabbing the bottle of tequila.

David was bewildered as he led Roberto to his cabin. Roberto had given
Esmeralda twenty dollars for the rent which was more than David made most
nights. His surprise only increased when all they did was sit and talk
while finishing off the bottle. When Roberto finally took his leave,
David was drunk and untouched.

Back in his bunk David's pleasant dreams of Roberto shifted back into
nightmare. He was standing before a jury, dressed in an expensive suit,
addressing them. Something about his client being innocent and the scene
seemed so real. Then it shifted to a pretty girl with her arms around
his neck and pressing her breasts into his chest. Again the dream
shifted. There was this old woman standing over him, a scalpel in her
hand and evil grin. She was holding his testicles in her other hand.
David woke with a scream.

Ooo

Three days later as the camp was waking up for another hard day, they
came. The INS surrounded the camp and forced everyone into the cantina.
There they methodically went through everyone's papers. Like many, David
didn't have any paperwork much less identification. Even the ones with
fake green cards were identified and put into cuffs. Over half the camp
including the bar girls were herded into the white bus with a green strip
painted down its length. Like the others David's purse was searched and
his bottle of medicine was confis**ted along with a number of other
items.

At the processing center David and the other women were put into a large
holding cell. During his interview David told the agents that he was
Maria Gonzales Santiago and from a small village in Honduras. He was
then photographed, finger printed and led back to another holding cell.
All the women in this cell were from Honduras and would soon be deported.
There were several girls from his camp already there.

Olivia one of his fellow bar girls from the camp was especially
distraught. She had a legitimate green card but was being deported for
morals violations. What bothered her was how the agents knew she was a
camp prostitute. Surely no one from the camp would have told on her, so
how did they know. David found himself crying along with her at their
fate. There was nothing for them back home except more squalor and
deprivation. David was even more worried. He was a boy girl and as such
subject to arrest in Honduras. So far no one had discovered his secret
and he prayed that no one would. He couldn't remember any names of
family members still living there. His only hope would be to find an
influential pimp before the authorities discovered his secret.

Ooo

The dreams were becoming more frequent and vivid as the days dragged on.
It had been almost a week since he had last taken his medicine. In his
dreams he was David Samuels, a rising attorney within the firm. He had a
girlfriend, Emily, who he loved but couldn't commit. Yes, she was
beautiful and smart everything a man could want but he was scared of
marriage. He had seen too many nasty divorces including his parents to
undergo such a trial himself. He woke many nights sweating profusely,
shaking like a leaf and scared. His waking a total contrast to his
dreams, day time was reality. He was in a cell with other women, dressed
similarly with the same dark skin and language. The only difference
between them was that he had a limp dick between his legs.

When they were first processed they were taken into a white tiled room,
told to strip and deloused. It was very embarrassing and scary but he
was able to tuck his little man back between his legs, the mat of black
pubic hair hiding it. The female guards were too occupied spraying them
down to notice and he kept his secret. The communal showers had stalls
with an open front so he was able to keep it hidden from discovery. Of
course that first day all their clothing was taken away and issued orange
jump suits with large INS imprinted on the back. David's satin bra and
panties were exchanged for white cotton. The cheap underwear was itchy
and didn't feel right but his D-cups needed the support.

Each day was the same. Lights on at *****.m., marched down the green
painted hallways to the communal bathroom, given thirty minutes to shower
and clean up then marched to the cafeteria. The only difference in the
meals was that there was meat served usually chicken. The men were there
but they weren't allowed any contact. Back in the cell David sat with
the small group of women from his camp.

Olivia who he had been friendly with was now a close friend as neither of
them had any family. She of course knew of his secret but also what
would happen if it got out. She promised to protect him and when they
got to Honduras see that he was safe. Her teo, Humberto, was a village
elder and would welcome him. Like the camp the village needed someone
like him.

"Maria don't worry. My uncle will help you. There are more men than
women in my village so your profession is needed to keep them happy. So
don't worry, you'll be fine. Maybe in time we can find a way back here."

She eased his fears somewhat but the idea of servicing unwashed men much
less appealing. When he first began as a camp whore he knew he was doing
what he wanted but now he felt completely different. The very idea of
him being with any man was disgusting. Yes, he had tits, a round firm
ass and sexy clothing but even that no long seemed right. He began to
seriously question whether or not he really wanted to be a she male whore
and why he chose that path. The more he thought about it the more his
head hurt. With each passing day that headache became less severe, the
dreams more vivid with many more unanswered questions.

Finally the day came when David was given back the one suitcase he had
been allowed to pack. He pulled out his yellow skirt with the floral
boarder and a white blouse to wear for the trip back to Honduras. The
yellow panties and matching satin bra felt much better than the rough
cotton undergarments he had been issued. The only satin dress he could
pack was his lavender body hugging one and he looked at it sadly.

"I wish I could have brought my pretty red dress but it wouldn't fit," he
mumbled patting the one folded in the case.

As he said that, a memory flashed into vivid detail. It was of a pretty
girl wearing a red velvet low cut mid-thigh dress. She was sitting
across from him in an elegant restaurant. Her red painted lips parted in
a beautiful smile, her head tilted slightly to the side as she placed the
diamond stud into her earlobe. "Oh darling, these are so beautiful,"
echoed in his mind as a blinding pain dissolved the image.

His head was still hurting as he stood in line to board the 747 leased by
the INS. It would take the two hundred plus immigrants back to their
native country stopping first in Mexico City then Tegucigalpa. David was
very nervous as he stepped down the stairs to his uncertain reception.
Fortunately Olivia was right there with him, holding his hand as they
entered the terminal. The Honduran authorities didn't give him any
trouble as they issued him his new identity papers. The immigration
officer looked bored as he glanced at the INS report, rubber stamped
several pieces of paper and handed the Honduran identity to David. The
officer gave him cursory look concentrating more on the exposed cleavage
as he handed over the documents. Finally they were through immigration
and Humberto was waiting for them.

It was a long drive from the capital to a small village near Estelle.
David was sitting in the bed of an old pickup on his suitcase. Olivia
was inside sitting alongside her uncle as they made their way up a
winding narrow mountain road. David only looked once as they rounded a
blind curve seeing nothing but empty space. He was too scared to look
anywhere but at the rear of the truck from then on. Another thing that
scared him was that he didn't remember ever seeing scenery like this
before.

The villages were mostly wooden shacks more like chicken coops back home
with scrawny dogs running loose everywhere. The few cinderblock
structures were small and unadorned with rusting tin roofs and no glass
panes in the windows. The people were mostly dressed in rags and not
wearing shoes. His memories were more like seeing photographs or a movie
instead of what was passing before his eyes. His mind was reeling
overloaded with the poverty, smells and foreignness of what was
happening.

"OMG! Why is this so foreign to me? I know I came from a small village
but I don't remember any of this. This is real and nothing like my
memories."

The truck finally came to a stop in a small village. It wasn't much,
maybe forty or so wooden structures on both sides of the narrow dirt
road. There was one small cinderblock building painted green and white
with the word, "Policia" in black letters over the entrance. A man in
green fatigues carrying an automatic rifle stood in the doorway watching
them.

"Okay Maria we're here. This will be your place. Get settled and I will
be back soon to show you around," Olivia said breaking him from his
thoughts.

His place was a dilapidated shipping crate wooden structure bigger than
the shack he used to entertain at his last camp site but not by much.
The front had two windows covered only by burlap cut from feed sacks on
each side of the door less entry. The floor was packed dirt with a worn
grass mat covering some of it. A rickety rocking chair, wooden bed with
a thin straw mattress pushed into the back corner with a musty old
blanket suspended from a rope to provide some privacy. A clay oven was
in the other corner, a shelf and a beat up dresser with one broken leg.
An oil lamp was on top of the dresser and some kindling stacked by the
oven. The back had an open doorway leading into a small courtyard. The
courtyard was fenced in with barbed wire and four banana trees. Beyond
the fence stretched miles of tobacco fields. Off to the side was the
outhouse. David fell to his knees bringing his hands to cover his face
and let the tears flow as his mind howled in misery.

Olivia and her little brother, Julio, found him sitting on the bed. They
brought over some the things he would need to make the place more
livable. Julio took the box of kitchen supplies over to the small shelf.
It wasn't much a couple of plates, bowls, cups, knife, fork, two dented
pans, small tin coffee pot and large spoon. He also had some food items
and matches that he put on the bottom shelf. Olivia helped David put on
the bed linens she had brought along with a colorful but well used
blanket. A pink plastic shower curtain was used to cover the open front
doorway. He gratefully put on the flip flops she handed him. Heels
would be impossible on the unpaved street and bare ground he would have
to walk.

"Look Maria it isn't much but you have enough food to last a couple of
days. Come on and I'll show you where the community well is and the
cantina. Diego owns the cantina and will be happy to meet you. It isn't
much but he's fair and will only take ten percent of your earnings.
Julio take the pail so you can bring Maria back fresh water."

Ooo

Life was hard for David but the people of the village were friendly.
While the village was small the population doubled on the weekend when
farmers came to town. On the weekends he earned about one hundred
Honduran lempira or $5 dollars a night. During the work week he was
lucky to earn a handful of centavos. Fortunately, Diego would provide
him with a plate of rice, beans and fried plantains for an evening meal.

His first month was pure hell. As his memory of being David became
clearer he thought he was possessed. The dreams were occurring more
regularly as the days passed to the point where he had them when awake.
They were so vivid so clear he could not ignore them any longer. He
wanted desperately to talk to someone but didn't dare tell anyone in the
village. If the villagers thought he was possessed they would run him
out of town or worse. His only choice was to talk to the parish priest
who visited the village on a monthly basis. Even if the priest thought
he was crazy, the sanctity of the confessional would keep him safe.
There was also the hope that his story would be believed.

Padre Joseph listened to his story during confession in disbelief but
intrigued by it. The details David had of a prior life were just too
good to be made up. Despite what his eyes told him, this parishioner
could speak fluent English and the story too detailed to be known by a
Honduran woman. Obviously Maria was possessed and an exorcism called
for. To save her soul he took her back to the capital. Once there the
nuns could look after the poor woman until the ceremony could be
performed.

Mother Superior was a stern harsh faced Mayan woman who insisted that
Maria remove her whorish makeup and change into a white rough cotton
sheath dress. With her native background she believed that possession by
evil spirits was real. To her the only effective way to deal with such
individuals was through prayer and contrition. The prayer would be the
easy part as Maria would spend most of the day on her knees. Contrition
would come via a horsehair under vest and flagellation.

A good scourging combined with fasting and prayer usually worked based
upon her experiences. Of course Padre Joseph could try his exorcism but
she didn't hold as much faith in its results without using her methods
first. She convinced the good padre to wait two months.

"Padre we need time before you perform an exorcism. Unless Maria accepts
that she is possessed by evil and renounces it, your holy rites might not
work. As you say, she is deeply held by this spirit. Give me the time I
need to save her soul."

Ooo

David stood in the small cell the nuns had assigned him after cleaning
off his makeup in the communal bathroom. The cell contained a small cot,
bedside table that held a lamp and a small dresser. The only decoration
in the white plaster room was a crucifix. In front of the crucifix was a
prayer stool and bible. On the cot was the clothing Mother Superior had
given him. A white rough cotton shift dress, white cotton full cut brief
styled panties, a strange looking very rough brown vest that laced up the
back and brown leather sandals.

"Looks like the only difference between here and the INS camp is the
orange jump suit. I wonder what that weird looking vest is for. It
certainly doesn't look comfortable. More like some kind of torture
piece. It sure is course feeling. They can't mean for me to actually
wear this," he thought as the nun standing behind him made an impatient
sound.

Dropping the vest back onto the cot he turned to face her. She made a
hurry up signal with her finger. "Guess I better change. They sure
don't talk much around here."

David kept his back to her as he stepped into the cotton panties. The
plain panties weren't nearly as comfortable or pretty as the apricot
nylon ones he tossed on the cot. He was looking for the bra when the nun
stepped up and took the brown vest from the cot. She briskly turned him
to face away and pulled the vest down over his head. It was indeed very
scratchy and rough on his tender skin and became much more so as she
tightened the lacing.

"Hey, this thing scratches and itches. I don't want to wear this!
Please take it off," he said trying to pull away.

The nun was both bigger and stronger than he was. Her only reply was to
pull the laces tighter. He had tears in his eyes and gasping for breath
by the time she tied them off. She spared him no sympathy as she handed
him the dress to put on. The grim determined look on her face never
changed as she pushed him out the door. From the time he had been
introduced to sister Ignacio by the Mother Superior until he was marched
back into her office the nun hadn't a single word.

The Mother Superior was sitting behind a large elaborately carved
mahogany desk. She watched as he entered the room with sharp piercing
eyes and grave expression. "Have a seat Maria and I will tell you the
rules which you will follow to the letter. Padre Joseph has left you in
our care until he can perform an exorcism. There is a powerful evil
curse living within you that must be removed for the sake of your very
soul. The padre told me how you earned your living, a grave sin by
itself but your possession is far graver. I and my fellow sisters will
see that you are prepared for the exorcism."

"Now for the rules, like the rest of the sisters, you will hold to a vow
of silence. Once this meeting is over, you will not talk again until you
leave. As you are possessed by the devil, you will have no contact with
the other sisters except for sister Ignacio or me. You will spend your
days praying before God to forgive your sins. You will only be given
tortillas and soup twice a day. Fasting will make your pleas for
forgiveness more acceptable. As you pray, renouncing your sins, you will
use this whip across your shoulders three times before you repeat your
sins. Flagellation shows that you are sincere in your prayers. The
harder you strike the sooner will be your salvation. Do not fail to use
the whip or use it too lightly or sister Ignacio will do it for you.

She paused to push a cat-o-nine-tails across the top of her desk toward
him. "What I have told you is not up for discussion or question. You
have a devil within you and your actions and words are not trusted.
While you won't believe it, we are doing this for your very soul. We do
not give up easily. sister Ignacio has been put in charge of your
salvation. She will instruct you in the proper prayers and methods to
achieve repentance. She can either beat you with the whip, have you
scrub the stone floors on your hands and knees or deny you your meals
should you disobey. I suggest you fully cooperate and concentrate on
saving your soul. You may go."

"Wait please! You got this all wrong. I'm not possessed. I swear I'm
really David Samuels and an American citizen. I don't know how I got
this way but I must have been d**gged or something. All I ask is that
you take me to the U.S. Embassy. My fingerprints will identify me.
Pleas...."

"Enough of this blasphemy! Your soul and mind are possessed but your
body tells the truth. sister Ignacio, silence this blasphemer!"

Before David could do anything a thick cloth was crammed into his mouth
and tied securely behind his head. The much bigger and stronger sister
Ignacio forced him out of the room and back to his cell. There he was
forced onto his knees on the small wooden prayer stand in front of the
crucifix. She quickly fastened him with ropes to the stand leaving him
with very little movement.

His gag was taken off and she removed the cat-of-nine-tails from her
robe's pocket. She then began thoroughly thrashing his back while saying
loudly, "You are Maria Gonzales Santiago! You are a simple peasant
woman! Now tell me who and what you are!"

The pain was indescribable. It flared with each stroke of the lash
amplified by the horse hair under vest. After a dozen very hard strokes,
in pain wracked tears he finally replied, "I'm Maria Gonzales Santiago a
peasant woman. Please stop. No more, I can't take any more."

She didn't stop but the harshness of her strokes lessened as she told him
to repeat who and what he was. She didn't stop until one hundred strokes
of the whip had pelted his back. His throat parched, his back aflame and
barely able to repeat who and what he was, David sagged in his bindings.
He didn't know how long he was left bound and kneeling on the hard wooden
stand but the pain coming from his knees was almost as bad as his back.
Finally a tin cup was placed to his lips and he drank the cool water down
in big gulps. His hopes of being untied died as he felt the cords of the
whip strike his back once again.

"Who are you? What are you?"

"I'm Maria Gonzales Santiago a simple peasant woman," he began repeating
over and over.

After another one hundred strokes which were lighter but still painful,
his torment stopped. He was given another cup of water and told to begin
praying for forgiveness.

"You will pray now. Pray clearly and loudly so your prayers will be
heard above. Beg the Holy Father to forgive your grievous sins and rid
you of your demon. Tell him that you only want to be Maria Gonzales
Santiago and a good peasant woman. Not the devil that haunts you. Here,
take the whip and strike yourself three times after each prayer."

Ooo

David had no idea of how long he was kept in that cell praying, punishing
him self and meditating. He wasn't allowed to sleep much and between the
pain, sleep deprivation and diet lost all perception of time. His only
relief came in the morning when he was allowed to bathe using a large tin
wash tub, a bit of lye soap and a rag. sister Ignacio tended to his back
each morning relieving some of the pain but it flared back up as he
started morning prayers. Time was measured by two functions, awake and
asleep.

Finally he was taken before Padre Joseph and three other priests. The
exorcism came to a close with David being doused in holy water and told
to sin no more. After the ceremony Maria Gonzales Santiago was asked
what she would like to do. Her choices were to be taken back to her
village or stay with the good nuns. His experience with sister Ignacio
only left him one choice.

Padre Joseph took Maria back to her village the following Sunday. Even
though her satin dress hung loosely on her emaciated frame her tits would
still attract the men. Maria smiled as she jiggled her breasts with her
palms settling them in her red satin bra while a young man looked.

"Maybe I can get few centavos from him," Maria thought as she leaned out
the window of her shack.






















Big Fat Bertha Lou Part 1
By Cheryl Lynn

This is a severe humiliation story and contains some ******** sexual
scenes. It is not for the sweet/sentimental reader. All the usual
disclaimers apply and for personal use only. Any other use is strictly
prohibited unless approved by the author. Thanks go to Throne for
giving me the idea for the main character in this story. Comments are
welcome at Cheryl2lynn@yahoo.com.



Big Fat Bertha Lou

Bertha Lou had been obese since c***dhood, very obese. All the females
in the family going back generations had been obese and she was no
exception. At the turn of the 19th century fat girls made ideal mates
for the young men of that era. With their wide c***d bearing hips men
knew they could father large families who could then be used to help
farm the land. That was then but now men lusted after shapelier
beautiful women. Bertha Lou met none of modern day dating criteria.

She was fat and ugly. Her only good feature was a pair of emerald green
eyes. Bertha Lou was five foot nine and weighted two hundred and
ninety-eight pounds. Her black hair was cut in a unflattering short
page boy style, had a large fat nose and triple chin. Making her
features even less appealing was a significant gap between her two front
teeth. Teased mercilessly throughout her life she had few girlfriends
and never asked out on a date. As a result spent her time on her
studies and bottled up her ever growing hatred of men. It was always
the boys and men as she was growing up that had bullied and teased her
the most.

The most humiliating day in her life occurred during her junior year of
high school. A transfer student, James Archer, asked her out on a date.
She was skeptical at first but being new he convinced her to go to a
costume party. James told her that he was going as a male ballet dancer
and needed her to join him as his ballerina. To prove his sincerity, he
showed her the men's dance leotard and tights he intended to wear and
presented her with a gift. It was a pink leotard and tights with white
tutu since she told him she didn't have one. On the night of the party
James called her and told her something had come up and for her to meet
him at the party. The party was at one of the most popular student's
home and she was the only one wearing a costume. Needless to say she
fled in horrified humiliation with James laughing the loudest. Over the
next two years of school constant reminders of her ordeal kept popping
up. Other incidents over time made her hatred of men fester. One day,
she promised, she would get even for the way men treated her.

Ooo

Bertha Lou was waddling out of the mall Friday evening when of all
people, James Archer came stumbling out of Applebee's drunk as a skunk.
He had been celebrating at the bar with some of his friends. Bumping
into Bertha, he fell doing a face plant on the granite flooring. He was
out cold. She wondered where this asshole's friends were but no one was
around. Not seeing anyone and no one coming in the nearby entrance door
of the mall, she had an idea. Picking him up and putting his arm around
her shoulders and grasping around his waist, dragged him out of the
mall. Only a couple of people going to the entrance saw them but paid
no attention. At her car she dumped him into the back seat. He had a
bump on his forehead and totally out of it. Smiling she drove home to
what had been her mother's house.

The wood framed two bedroom house wasn't much but she had inherited it
and the five acres of forest surrounding it. The best thing about the
house was its relative isolation where passerby's couldn't tease the fat
girl. Bertha Lou had no trouble getting him into the house. Once
inside took him down into the cellar which had been converted into a
spare bed room. This room was for visiting family members and had a
small bath. Bringing him home had been a spur of the moment decision
and she wasn't sure what to do now that she had him.

Looking down at the snoring man her held in hatred flared into full
bloom. "I'm not sure what I'm going to do to you yet but I will figure
out something even more embarrassing than what you did to me. No one
knows where you are and I doubt anyone that might have seen us gives a
shit. The one thing I'm sure of is that you're not going anywhere
soon," she said while stripping off his clothing.

James Archer wasn't a big or overly masculine man. He was five foot
seven, weighed one twenty-five with below the collar length sandy blond
hair. He was twenty-************* with what many would call baby faced
good looks, a face that seldom seemed to need a shave. The rest of his
body was hairy but not overly so. While she had never dated she knew
what a man looked like down there. Reaching out she pinched the head of
his penis between thumb and forefinger stretching it out. It was the
first adult penis she had ever touched.

"Not that impressive I imagine but I guess like all men proud of it.
Now that gives me an idea but first I have to make sure you don't go
anywhere," she mumbled as she released it.

Picking him up carried him into the bath and placed him in the old
fashioned footed tub. She found some duct tape in the closet and
quickly secured his hands and feet. While secluded she didn't want to
hear him yelling and screaming so pulled off her white nylon six "X"
sized panties and stuffed them into his mouth. A final piece of duct
tape would hold them in place until she could find something better.

Back in her room she got ready for her night shift. Bertha Lou was a
Licensed Practical Nurse (LPN) at a nearby nursing home. She was
tempted to call in sick but she needed to get some supplies. Her plans
for him were still in their ******y but the nursing home had things she
would need like pharmaceuticals.

The night shift meant that she would practically be alone all night.
Like most nights she checked on her patients and made rounds but other
than that not much ever happened. She used that down time wisely
gathering some things here others there putting them into her large
tote. Satisfied she had most of what she needed, spent the rest of the
evening searching the web and placing orders.

It was a very satisfied Bertha Lou that went home. The first thing she
did was retrieve the supplies she had taken from the nursing home. He
was still asleep which made what she planned on doing so much easier.
Taking the large container of Glucose IV solution she hung it from the
shower rod over the tub and inserted the needle into his arm. Turning
on the drip, she injected the sedative into the solution. A protective
cover was put over the injection site to keep the needle from moving or
getting wet.

"That should keep you asleep, hydrated and fed until I wake you up in a
couple of days," she thought smiling down at him.

Ooo

Over the weekend she checked on him frequently changing out the IV as
needed and making sure his wastes were washed down the drain. Other
than checking his vital signs there wasn't much more she could do. Late
Monday afternoon on her day off she found several packages at her front
door.

"Finally now I can really fix his wagon," she thought as she carried him
to the bed.

Grinning she removed the slivery titanium chastity from a box. Her
smile widened as she examined the top of the line device. It had been
very very expensive but she wanted the best. The woven metal of the
penis tube worked like a Chinese Finger Puzzle the more you pulled on it
the tighter it became. The underside of the tube was not polished like
the outside. It had small points similar to a rasp file that would grip
the flesh. If he tried to get an erection the pain would be
significant. Attached to the base were two thin titanium chains that
went around the waist and connect to the one attached to the front with
a cylindrical titanium combination lock. Once on his penis would only
be good for urination provided he sat.

Opening the next box she took out a florescent pink leotard with round
neckline and cap sleeves, white tights with rainbow highlights, stiff
white tutu and pair of black ballerina slippers. The last box contained
a bright red heart shaped satin purse with a gold chain shoulder strap.
She put his wallet, keys and cell into the purse and hung the chain
strap around his neck.

She left him lying on the bed so she could finish the final details.
Bertha Lou had cut out individual letters from magazines and busily
began constructing them into a note.

James When you read this you probably already know what I did to you If
you ever want to get out of the fix you re in call 555-5656 and ask for
Mistress Yes you could call the police have me arrested BUT if you do I
will have burned the combination to the lock You will never get out
without severe deep burns or worse. It takes an especially hot torch to
cut threw titanium
Mistress

Smiling she put the note and several pictures of him in his precious
ballerina outfit into his purse. Picking him up carried him to her car.
It was pitch black as she drove to the mall with clouds covering the
crescent moon. By the time she got to the mall it was closed and she
had no trouble sitting him down by the entrance without being seen.

Ooo

Something tapping him hard on the shoulder woke James up. Stooping over
him was a security guard. He raised his hands to rub his eyes and block
the bright glare of the flashlight. He came fully awake seeing the
bright pink nail polish on his fingers.

"Alright buddy, I don't know why you're dressed up for Halloween in the
middle of summer but you're not sleeping it off here. Get you fairy ass
up and get out of here," the security guard said tapping the heavy steel
flashlight in his palm.

A very confused and disorientated James staggered to his feet. The last
thing he remembered was drinking with his buddies. Now he was standing
outside the Mall, with pink nails, worse yet wearing a ballerina outfit
complete with flaring tutu and a purse slung around his neck.

"What the fuck?" he said hoarsely. His throat was bone dry and he had a
pounding headache to boot.

"Go on, get outta here ****** or I'm calling the cops," the officer
demanded poking the flashlight into his chest for emphasis.

James still confused looked at the officer tapping his flashlight
menacingly in his palm then scanned the mostly empty parking lot. He
saw his car and staggered over to it. It had keyless entry and opened
at his touch. Seeing the beam of the flashlight shining on him, he
quickly put the car into gear and drove off.

"It's bad enough having to chase homeless bums away but now ******s?"
the security officer mumbled as he left to finish his rounds.

When James arrived at his apartment complex most the parking spaces were
filled. He found one at least hundred yards from his. Glancing at the
clock on his dashboard noted that it was a little past mid-night.

"Crap! No wonder the lots full. Now I have to get to my apartment
looking like a damn fool and not be seen. Shit! If I find out who did
this to me I'm going to kill them," he yelled banging his fists on the
steering wheel.

The tutu kept bouncing up and down as he walked sticking to the shadows.
Its touch was making him madder and madder. Looking around and seeing
no one, he made a made dash for his second floor apartment. He stood
before his door panting and wondering how he was going to get in. The
leotard had no pockets. It took the confused man a couple of moments to
remember the purse.

"I've never been so happy to be home in my life. Now to get this crap
off me," he said in relief once safely inside.

He started ripping off the offending clothing as he walked to his
bedroom. He still had the tights on when he looked into the full length
mirror on the back of his closet door. His hair was in a bun at the top
of his head with a pink satin ribbon tied around the base. His cheeks
were circled in pink blush, his eyelids painted in a bright green
shadow, thick black eyeliner, long false eye lashes and his lips coated
in glistening pink lipstick. What really stood out were the two painted
arches over his eyes. His eyebrows had been shaved off.

"OMG! Could this get any more humiliating?" he said as he began pulling
off the tights.

With the tights halfway down his thighs James saw what Bertha Lou had
done. He staggered almost falling when he saw the shiny metal encasing
his groin. It didn't take him long to discover that it couldn't be
removed and that it hurt like the dickens when he pulled on the sheath.
Giving up he went into the bathroom to remove the makeup. There he
discovered that soap and water wouldn't remove the lipstick. No matter
how hard he scrubbed it retained most of its coloring. He cussed loudly
seeing that he didn't have any eyebrows or sideburns.

Giving up the attempt to remove the lipstick, he stepped into the
shower. His hair had been soaked in hairspray and needed to be washed
out. He also coated his groin in shampoo hoping to slip the chains down
over his hips. Again he was met with only more pain and failure.

Taking one last look into the mirror over the sink, he muttered, "At
least I have the weekend to see if this shit wears off. It's probably
that long lasting stuff I've seen on television commercials. I just
hope no one notices that I don't have any eyebrows. I wonder how long
it takes for them to grow back. My next door neighbor has some bolt
cutters. I'll borrow them in the morning and get this damn thing off
me. Shit, I forgot about the lipstick...can't let him see that..I could
tell him my girlfriend did it as a joke. Yeah, that'll be embarrassing
but probably work. Guess I can sc**** this pink polish off my nails
with a knife but right now I'm calling Jake. Maybe he can tell me which
of those yahoos I was drinking with did this to me."

Still naked he opened the purse to remove his cell when he noticed the
note. It fell from his shaking hands and he collapsed onto his bed.
His hands clenched into fists pounded the mattress as tears began to
flow.

"Damn it! I'll find out which one of you yahoos did this and I'm going
to kill you! This isn't funny anymore you sick fucks!" his mind
screamed.

When he regained control he sat up and reached for his cell intending to
call Jake. Hearing a very groggy sounding Jake finally answer, James
lit into him with a burst of profanity interlaced with wanting to know
who screwed with him. Jake responded by saying he had no idea of what
the hell he was talking about and why he was calling him at this ungodly
hour on a Monday night. The phone fell from his hand as he sat on the
side of the bed.

"Monday night? It can't be," he thought picking the phone up and
checking the day app.

"OMG! It's Tuesday morning! How did I lose three days of my life and
what the fuck's going on? Shit!" he gasped.

At seven James went to his neighbor's door and asked to borrow his bolt
cutters. When asked about the pink lipstick, he said it was a sick joke
done by his girlfriend. It was embarrassing and he got a good chuckle
out of his neighbor. Back in his apartment he quickly striped and spent
the next thirty minutes trying unsuccessfully to cut the thin chains.
Giving up he returned the bolt cutters.

After calling in sick to work, he spent the next couple of hours
researching titanium, how to cut it and chastity devices for clues to
getting them off. What he discovered about titanium scared him as it
had a melting point of over three thousand degrees Fahrenheit, stronger
than most steels and preferred in body piercings due to its inertness.
He managed to find the site selling the device securing his groin. The
news there was no better as it explained that there was no industrial
built in combination that could over ride a combination once set.

"I'm truly fucked!" he screamed in frustration slamming his hands down
on the keyboard.

Ooo

While James was discovering the extent of his plight, Bertha Lou was
trying to figure out what to do next. "The pink leotard and dropping
him off at the mall had to be humiliating but that's not enough. He
plagued me for years and I just can't settle for one good night of
revenge. Yeah, the chastity has to be mortifying but not humiliating.
He won't be able to have sex but that won't necessarily make him the
subject of public ridicule. So what can I do to make his life as
miserable as he made mine?"

She spent most of her morning and early afternoon going through various
sites on the internet. She found a large number detailing ways to
extract revenge. She found everything from simple practical jokes to
advocating physical harm but the ones concerning petticoat punishment,
now that got her interest. When she gave him her cell number, it was
only to rub in how dickless he was going to be. However the idea of him
having to go to work and appear in public as an emerging transsexual
intrigued her.

"What could be more humiliating than for a macho man having to appear in
public than that? This is really beginning to turn me on. The more I
think about it the better it gets."

Ooo

James spent the rest of the week trying to figure a way to get out of
the chastity belt. As embarrassing as it would be he made an
appointment to see a blacksmith. He figured who else had the knowledge
of metals and ability to get him out of his fix. The blacksmith lived
on a remote ranch about three hours away and most likely wouldn't know
of any of his friends. He gave a false name only revealing that he had
a chain that need to be removed. The experience was more humiliating
than he thought and the results even worse. The chain was fastened too
tightly for the smith to get any of his cutting instruments in a
position to sever them. The cylindrical shaped lock was too small to
brace for a chisel to break. It was obvious the smith was holding back
his laughter as he told James that he had to have the combination.

"Look Mr. Madison, the only thing I can tell you is do whatever your
boy..er girlfriend says. Until she releases you, I'm afraid you're
stuck," the smith said grinning widely.

"It was my girlfriend! Errrrr she...she caught me cheating," he responded
not wanting to make his embarrassment any worse.

He had caught more ******** derogatory comments already this week over
his brightly painted lips and missing brows than he wanted. He hoped
that they would stop giving him shit and bought his explanation of a
bar-b-que accident and girlfriend's joke. The idea that anyone
thought he was a homosexual made him ill. He hated ******s but smart
enough to know to be politically correct. Giving up all hope of getting
the device off by himself, he had only one choice left.

Friday afternoon he called the number on the note. He was surprised to
hear a woman's voice answer but started demanding that the belt be
removed. He didn't get six words out before the line went dead. He
redialed and got the same response. Deciding that making demands wasn't
going to work, he started his next connection with, "Please Mistress."

"You are a slow learner but maybe there is hope for you yet. I know why
you are calling and if, and I say if, you respond correctly I just may
help you out. So let me tell you the rules. You will always refer to
me as Mistress. You will do exactly what I demand happily and
obediently or you will never hear from me again. You will never be free
until you have fully completed the tasks I have set for you. Finally, I
don't give a damn if you ever get out of that chastity. Now for the
first order of business, I want you to make an appointment to have your
body except for your head to be waxed clean of all body hair including
your groin. You will set up monthly appointments to get your body
waxed. I also want the name and contact number of the technician. You
have until Saturday evening to get that done and send me a picture.
I'll text you my email. Until then, I don't want to hear another word
except 'yes Mistress.'"

As the line disconnected, James stood open mouthed trying to make sense
of what he had just been told. The buzzing of his cell telling him that
a text had been received.

Ooo

Saturday afternoon James glowed pink but not from the residual effects
of a full body waxing. He had never been as embarrassed or humiliated
as when the very pretty young woman striped him of his body hair. It
had taken all her will power not to break out laughing when she saw his
chastity but it was obvious to James. It had been bad when he walked
into the salon. His pink lips drawing attention but having a woman he
would love to date see his privates almost made him want to die. He was
still blushing as he took his naked picture, downloaded and sent it
along with the contact information.

"OMG! I just hope this is enough and she'll free me. I have never been
so mortified," he thought as he pressed the send button.

It wasn't long before he received an email. "Very good, now for your
second task, go to a fine lingerie store and replace all of your boxers,
y-fronts and undershirts with the laciest and silkiest most colorful
panties and matching camisoles. Once you have made your purchase, you
will cut your male undies in half. Display your shredded male clothing
and your new ones. Take pictures and send them to me. You have until
Monday to complete this assignment or else. Beginning Tuesday morning
and every day thereafter you will take a picture wearing your new
lingerie and send it to me. Additionally, when home you will only wear
your lingerie and nothing else. I will be randomly calling and you will
respond with another picture of you in your lingerie from your cell. If
you even think of putting on your old men's wear you will never be free.
P.S. You will tell the clerk that you are buying them for yourself. You
will provide me with the clerk's name and contact number. Mistress."

"Oh shit!" was all he could say slumping in his chair.

The only good thing about Monday was that the pink lipstick had finally
faded away. It was about an hour before the store closed and James
didn't see but a few people moving around in the shop. Nervously he
stepped through the doors and approached a clerk. It took him several
seconds to regain his composure as he asked her for help selecting
panties and camisoles.

"How sweet, are you buying them for your girlfriend? Do you know her
size?" the cute brunette asked.

His forehead broke out in a sweat as the moment he feared arrived. "Err
no Miss. Th.....there fo...for me."

"For you? Oh my gosh! I've heard about guys like you but you're my
very first. Gee, yeah, sure, no big deal. I get a commission either
way. Come on this way and I'll measure you," she replied louder than he
would have liked.

"I've heard the girls talking about these freaks but I never thought one
would come to me. Gee, to think I though he was kinda hot when he
walked in. Well maybe I can have some fun with this anyway," she
thought leading him to a changing booth.

In the booth she had him drop his pants so she could get an accurate
measurement of his waist and hips. Blushing scarlet he pushed his pants
down just below his hips praying that she wouldn't notice the device.
It was not to be as measuring his hips the back of her hand brushed his
boxer covered groin.

"Oh my, what's this," she said brazenly pressing her palm against his
groin.

He reacted automatically and slapped her hand away, his mouth working
but nothing coming out.

"Yo...you hit me. Now I'm calling security," the clerk said moving to the
curtained doorway.

"No, no please, please don't, I'm sorry. It was just a reaction. I
didn't mean to.....," he plead.

"Okay but you're gonna drop those boxers and let me get a good look at
what you're hiding down there," she demanded.

James finally left the store carrying several large pink bags. His face
an even darker shade than the bags he was carrying. He not only had the
most feminine panties and matching camisoles but half a dozen matching
garter belts and four dozen pairs of thigh high nylons in various shades
and colors. The experience was more humiliating than his salon visit.
Not only did she insist that he buy the additional items but had one of
her friends help. He was just lucky that she didn't insist on him
buying the matching bras. When he had asked for her full name and
store's contact number, she absolutely refused.

"You think that I would ever want to go out with a pervert like you?
No, I like real men, you sicko," she replied when asked.

His humiliation was complete as he broke down and told her that his
girlfriend wanted to confirm his purchases. The only way the clerk
would give him what he needed was if he made those additional and
expensive purchases. Totally mortified and his bank account seriously
diminished he left as quickly as he could.

Tears flooded his eyes as he cut all his men's underwear into pieces.
"I don't want to do this but I can always replace them later. Damn! I
hope when I send her the picture of these and my new underwear she'll
stop all this. I don't know how much more of this humiliation I can
stand."

He was standing in a pair of emerald green nylon tap panties with two
inches of white lace on the leg hems and the matching white lace
lavished camisole as the flash went off. He uploaded the pictures and
plead to be released. He begged forgiveness for whatever she thought he
had done. There was no forth coming reply.

Ooo

Tuesday he received four phone calls demanding a picture be sent. Three
of those calls came while he was at work. Scared shitless he made his
way into the men's restroom, entered a stall and stripped. If one of
his co-workers came in and caught him wearing panties and camisole his
life would become a living hell.

"My life is already a living hell but if someone sees the flash as I
take this picture I'm doomed. Even if I can get out of here without
being discovered, I'll be labeled a pervert. Who the hell, besides a
perv would take pictures inside a damn stall anyway?"

Wednesday he received one of his calls while in a committee meeting. It
was embarrassing having to ask to be excused but he only had ten minutes
to send the photo or else. The rest of the week wasn't any better but
he was happy to see the weekend arrive. He held a vague hope that after
being forced to wear panties and camisoles for a week she would let him
go. Those hopes were dashed when he received a new text.

"You were very good this week. Now for your third task, I have made you
an appointment at Sally's Nails for 10:00 a.m. When you arrive tell the
manicurist that you want glamour length nails and fuchsia your preferred
color for both your fingers and toes. Before you leave purchase a nail
care kit and bottle of varnish as you will be keeping your nails pretty
for me. Don't disappoint and don't forget to send me pictures by noon.
Mistress

Sally's Nails was located in an upscale shopping center not too far from
his apartment. It was a place frequented by many of his fellow
apartment dwellers and he was very nervous as he neared the doorway.
There were a lot of people moving around in the hallway but only one
customer in the shop. Swallowing what pride he still had walked up to
the receptionist saying he had an appointment. Almost immediately a
very pretty Viet Namese girl showed him to her station. When he told
what he wanted she burst out in giggles making him blush a brighter
shade of pink.

"You're joking, right?" she replied smiling.

"N....no...I'm...serious n...an..and want them...them and my toes..toes
pain...painted fuch...fuchsia," he stuttered while thinking, "OMG! Please
don't make a scene this is humiliating enough."

"You want me to give you nail extensions and varnish them fuchsia?" she
asked much too loudly drawing the attention of all the women in the
shop.

"Please, not so loud and yes that's what I want," he replied almost in a
panic.

"Okay, you weird but I do," she answered with a sneer.

He had no idea what fuchsia or glamour length meant but seeing one inch
long bright pink oval finger nails was more information than he wanted.
As he paid and tipped the manicurist his face matched the color of his
nails. He curled his right hand as tightly as he could with the long
nails as he left the shop. The bright blue bag with Sally's Salon
printed in white letters was too big to stuff into his jeans pockets.

Almost immediately he discovered what a pain long fingernails can be
when he tried to ball his hand into a fist or hold the steering wheel.
"Crap! How the hell can I do anything with these talons? OMG! She
doesn't plan on me keeping these things when I go to work, can she?"

Of course his worst fears were realized but she did allow him to remove
the polish when at work. He was required to paint them as soon as he
arrived home and send a picture from his cell. The difficulties of
having long nails were driving him crazy. Even simple tasks like
securing buttons or picking up objects took a major effort. Trying to
keep them from being discovered by his workmates was mind numbing. Some
how he managed to get through the work week without any comments.

Ooo

Friday when he arrived home, he quickly stripped down to his pink with
white daisy appliqué nylon panties and matching camisole before sitting
down to do his nails. When his nails dried he checked his email. He
was surprised that Mistress hadn't sent him any new tasks. At first he
was happy but then started to worry.

"She didn't send me any new instructions? I hope that means this is all
she wanted. Yeah, she's humiliated the hell out of me so maybe now I
can get out of this damn thing. I'm hornier than I've ever been and
think if I don't get some relief soon my balls are going to burst. Damn
that woman!"

He didn't hear anything that weekend nor the following week but he did
send some pictures on a daily basis. He thought about stopping, getting
rid of those ridiculous nails and buying some new underwear but decided
to play it safe. Just because he didn't hear from her didn't mean he
was off the hook but it gave him hope.

Friday he turned down the offer to have some drinks using another flimsy
excuse. Thanks to his long nails and lingerie he had to sever all of
his outside activities. The only good thing about his week was that his
buddies hadn't noticed his long nails although a couple of girls at the
office did mention it. His excuse was that he lost a bet with his
girlfriend. He had no idea how long "his girlfriend" excuses were going
to work but couldn't think of anything better.

James didn't like the feeling of exposure wearing just his panties and
camisoles. Having to paint his nails when he got home didn't ease those
feelings. He wasn't sure of what he would do if someone, especially the
landlord or one of his friends from work knocked on his door but he
didn't dare stop. His balls were aching for release. He had been an
avid masturbator and popular with the ladies. Going so long without
relief was madding. When his nails dried he turned on his computer with
hopes that there would be a message from Mistress telling him he was
free. There was indeed a message from Mistress and as he read it his
eyes bulged out in disbelief.

"I talked with Doris the woman who waxed your body at the salon and made
an appointment for you Saturday morning at seven o'clock. She has
agreed to open early so you can have your hair styled. Isn't that sweet
of her? So I better hear that you had a happy smile on your face. I
told her what I wanted and you will comply with whatever she tells you
enthusiastically. Make sure you thank her profusely and leave a good
tip. I look forward to seeing your picture. Mistress."

James managed to keep a smile on his face at the salon but as he walked
out the door shed some tears. Doris had dyed his hair a brassy blonde
and set in a mullet style. Making matters worse she had back combed and
teased it. The style was bad enough but no real man would have that
color. She added to his monthly waxing appointment another set and
style. Doris wasn't all that happy about opening so early but what she
charged and the tip was more than worth it.

"At first I though he was being blackmailed when I saw that chastity
thing but when I did that dye job and cut he seemed so happy. Like they
say 'it takes all types'. He must be gayer than a three dollar bill,"
Doris thought as he walked out the door.

When he arrived back at his apartment there was a box sitting by his
door. Taking it inside he opened it and found a lavender organza with
pink floral lace trimmed apron. A note on top written in letters cut
from magazines stated, "A gift from Mistress So far you have done well
Wear this when home and doing your chores I think a nice thank you is
in order when you send me a picture of your new hair style and wearing
my gift."

"OMG! The bitch knows where I live. Shit!" he yelled slamming his
fists down on the kitchen table.

When he regained control of his emotions took the obligatory picture.
Before he sent it begged her to stop torturing him and he would pay her
whatever she wanted if she would let him out of his chastity. He did
remember to end it with, "Thank you so very much for the beautiful
apron." It wasn't long before he had a reply and it wasn't what he
hoped for.

"No you cannot get a haircut and you still have tasks to complete if you
ever want out of chastity. As punishment for insolence you will wear
your fuchsia nail polish to work and I better not find out that you
covered your pretty hair. I will be checking up on you. I know where
you live. I know where you work. I will call or come by for a visit at
any time day or night. Mistress."

"I'm so fucked," he said as tears filled his eyes.

Ooo

Needless to say James' appearance at the office caused a major stir and
his boss called him in wanting an explanation. He doubted that his lost
bet excuse would work but what choice did he have. If he told the truth
he would be stuck for life. He was right. The boss didn't look like he
believed his story but told him that the company had a strict anti-
harassment policy.

"James, I certainly don't approve of what you have done to yourself but
the firm has a strict anti-harassment policy and acceptance of differing
life styles. So it doesn't matter what I think and if anyone gives you
any problems let me know. I'll send out a reminder notification. Now
get back to work."

He was both relieved that he wasn't going to be fired yet upset that now
everyone would probably think he was gay. The firm's affirmative action
policy wouldn't guarantee he would still have friends. Worse, any one
trying to make friends with him would probably be gay. He hated
homosexuals. He wouldn't have to hear any more derogatory comments
either but that didn't ease his humiliation. He could still see the
disgust in their eyes whenever they met to discuss business. He would
be tolerated but that would be the best he could expect while at the
office.

He was surprised that Jake and William his two best friends grudgingly
accepted his story of a bet gone horribly wrong. They tried their best
to get him to stop but he told them losing would be too costly. Not
accepting their offer to meet Friday for drinks didn't help.

Friday evening he had the expected email. "Very good and I loved the
pictures. Now for your next task, tomorrow you will go to a thrift
store and purchase the following:

3 pairs of stretchy Capri's in bright colors or floral designs. They
must be skin tight
2 pairs of satin flare legged slacks, one in purple the other black
again must be tight fitting
5 satin or silky polyester floral blouses
1 pair of black pointed toe women's flats
1 pair of 2 inch stack heeled red pumps
1 pair of silver or gold three inch spike heeled strappy sandals
12 pair of panty hose in various shades

You have until noon to send me pictures wearing the Capri pants with a
blouse and 2 inch heeled pumps. Mistress."

"As if I didn't look fruit enough with this fucking hair and nails, how
much more of this can I take?"

The trip to the thrift store wasn't so bad. He arrived as soon as it
opened and the only customer. He was greeted as he walked in by a
grandmotherly looking woman. She introduced herself as Betty and the
proprietor of the shop.

"Oh dear another one of those poor souls that believes he was born in
the wrong body. I've had more than my share come into my place but a
sale is a sale," she thought then brightly smiling said, "Hello dear,
I'm Betty and own this shop. How can I help you today?"

"Errr..hello...I...I need this," he replied nervous but determined to get
his odorous task completed handing her the list.

He walked out of the store with a minimum amount of embarrassment.
Betty didn't take long to find the items in question smiling and
courteous as she found his sizes. She didn't bat an eye when he asked
if he could try them on directing him to the change room. It would be
humbling but he had to make sure the pants were skin tight as directed.
Wearing a pair of white Capri's with bright floral decorations running
up the legs he blushed at seeing how prominent the crotch bulged out and
how big his ass looked. The back seam dug deeply into his ass crack
separating and plumping up his derriere. It also dug into his groin
mashing his balls painfully.

Betty saw him grimace in pain as he turned around looking at his
reflection. "Excuse me dear, you know I've helped others with that same
problem. If you don't mind a bit of advice get a larger size or a
girdle. I'll try to be delicate but you need to push your testicles
back up inside your body if you insist on that tight of fit. My
customers told me that with a good support garment the pain goes away.
I'm so sorry if I embarrassed you but would you like me to fetch a
girdle to try?"

That was humiliating but she sounded very sincere and only trying to
help. If he had to wear this stuff he figured he might as well be
comfortable. "Ye...yes...errr...please," he answered.

She returned with three girdles in hand and a small plastic container of
baby powder. "I could only find three in your size dear but it's all I
have at the moment. Why don't you take them and give it a try. They're
rubber lined like most vintage girdles so use this baby powder to make
putting it on easier."

Back in the change room he examined the girdles more closely. One was
muted white with a bright satin diamond front panel stitched with silver
thread in a floral pattern. The second was purple but the same style
and the third was yellow but had mid-thigh length legs. He decided to
put on the white girdle as it was the least feminine looking.

He had never heard of pushing up his balls and stood uncertain as how to
do it. "Dear, use the palm of your hand and push up gently," he heard
through the curtained doorway.

James grimaced as his balls popped back up inside but the horrible pain
he was expecting never materialized. As quickly as he could tugged the
girdle up his legs and wiggling his butt got it settled around his
waist. Its tight constriction felt weird but his front was flatter when
he stepped back into the Capri's.

The thrift store didn't carry hosiery so had to stop at a d**g store on
the way home to purchase the required panty hose. Betty had told him
what size he would need and explained how to put them on before donning
the girdle. The girl at the d**g store counter looked at him funny but
didn't comment as she rang up his purchases. It was just another day
to her but another humbling one for James.

Back at his place he changed out of his male attire and put on the ecru
panty hose, white girdle, white Capri's with the floral design, black
with bright pink daffodil imprinted polyester cap sleeved blouse and
black flats. Taking several pictures emailed them to Mistress. It
didn't take long before he received a response.

"How perfectly lovely, that outfit is definitely you. Now I have
another assignment for you to complete today. Buy enough web cameras so
that I will be able to observe you wherever you are in the apartment.
Make sure they are high resolution. Go as you are dressed right now.
You have two hours to purchase and install them or you can forget about
getting free. I recommend you buy the wifi wireless low light ones.
Mistress.

James sat in disbelief as he read and re-read the message. "OMG! She
has to be shitting me! I can't possibly go out looking like this!
Hasn't she humiliated me enough already?"

"Mistress: Please I'll do anything. I can't go anywhere looking like
this. Haven't you done enough to me? I'm already a laughing stock at
my office. Please don't make me do this," he replied.

"I can't see why you are complaining. You look very sweet in that
outfit. Besides I still have a few more tasks for you to complete. You
have one hour and forty-five minutes left. You better hurry."

"That bitch!" he screamed reading the email.

He was seen by several others as he left his apartment complex and even
more in the crowded electronics store. The clerk that waited on him had
a hard time not laughing and had a look that said, "Why do I get all the
crackpots."

The cameras put a very serious dent into his credit card but had them
installed and operating with fifteen minutes to spare. The shopping
experience was the worst day of his life and fortunately most people
just had a good laugh at his expense. He did receive some derogatory
slurs but not many. His face was flushed all the way home and it took
all his will power not to cry.

"Very good my pet, the camera views are excellent but you seem to have
forgotten to put one in your bathroom. Do it now."

"My bathroom?" he quickly replied while thinking, "She got to leave me
some privacy."

"Yes! Now!"

"That's much better pet. From now on I want you wearing one of your new
outfits every day when you are not at work. Yes even if you have to go
out on an errand. By the way I must compliment you on taking the
initiative and buying a girdle. The girdle lines make your ass so sexy
in those tight pants. Make sure you keep wearing them all the time just
like your pretty panties and camisoles. While I'm at it you forgot to
polish your nails when you came home. As punishment you will also wear
your new panty hose to work and I want you to buy a pretty pink lipstick
to match your polish. I believe you have another errand to run dear.
I'll give you an hour to make that purchase. Oh you might want to pick
up a nice purse while you are out. Your new pants don't have any
pockets and you need someplace to put your cell, wallet, keys and
lipstick. I'd hate it if you missed one of my calls but not nearly as
much as you will. Mistress"

Ooo

A sharp pain coming from his entrapped penis woke James up early
Saturday morning. "Damn that woman! I've got to get this thing off.
Every time I get a woody it hurts like hell down there. Gawd! I need
relief so friggin bad."

Giving up on trying to get back to sleep he got out of bed and headed to
the kitchen to make coffee. Other than his chastity he was completely
naked. He hated wearing panties and all the other feminine crap but at
least he could sleep naked. With coffee in hand he went to check his
emails like Mistress instructed him to do first thing every morning.
After yesterday's humiliations he was hoping she would leave him alone.
Again, no such luck.

"You disappointed me this morning. Why aren't you wearing your panties
and camisole? Mistress"

"Crap, I forgot the friggin cameras," he thought before typing, "I like
to sleep in the nude."

"That just won't do. Today I want you to dress in your nicest satin
pants and that lovely baby blue satin blouse with the red pumps. Go
back to that lingerie store and buy three girly-girl negligee sets. No
pajamas, nothing in cotton only the softest nylon or silk will do for
you. Don't forget to wear your new lipstick or that I am watching you.
Mistress."

Mumbling curse words James went to the bathroom to clean up with hopes
that he could get this task done with a minimum of embarrassment. It
took him less than twenty minutes to finish up and was stepping into a
pair of silver nylon tap panties with two inches of floral lace trim at
the leg hems when his cell rang.

"Check your email," was all Mistress said.

"Crap! What the hell does she want now?"

Slipping on the silky matching cami headed back to his computer.
Opening the email let out a groan as he read, "You have a horrible
morning toilet routine. While you are out pick up the following items:
1. Dove moisturizing soap
2. Lavender scented bath beads
3. Pink bulb syringe (you'll find that in the feminine hygiene aisle)
4. Panty liners (same place in store)
5. Lavender scented body talc
6. Once you have all these items in your basket go to cosmetics counter.
Ask the clerk to assist you in finding a selection of facial cleansing
and moisturizing products. Have her recommend a good skin care
instruction book.

Have a nice day. Mistress
P.S. Almost forgot you need to hand wash your panties, camisoles,
hosiery and girdles each night. They are too delicate to put in the
washer so buy some Woolite."

He went back to his bedroom to finish dressing his face flushed. "Damn
that woman! It will be bad enough having to go back and face that clerk
in the lingerie store but now this. I hate what she is making me do. I
have to get this chastity off but how much more humiliation can I
stand?"

He removed the purple girdle and black panty hose from his dresser and
put them on. The purple satin flare legged low rider slacks zipped up
the side hugging his skin before loosening up just above the knee. The
baby blue satin blouse was fairly plain with a pointed high collar and
long sleeves. He had some trouble with the red pumps as he wasn't use
to the heel. The heels threw his balance off forcing him to hold his
shoulders back.

"Here it is Saturday morning probably the busiest shopping day of the
week and I have to go out looking like this. People are going to think
I'm the world's biggest flaming ******. If that woman wanted to
humiliate me she's already royally succeeded. So how much further is
she going to take this? I don't know if I can endure much more but I
just have to get her to release me. This friggin chastity is killing
me."

























Big Fat Bertha Lou Part 2

Big Fat Bertha Lou Part 2

The girl that waited on him before found it extremely difficult to not
laugh at the very camp looking James. Once he left with his expensive
purchases, she laughed along with the other people until she had tears
in her eyes. As for James he was just happy to get that task finished
but his embarrassment was not over. The clerk had insisted on leaving
the negligees on hangers protecting them with a clear plastic cover.
Everyone in the busy mall would see him and what he carried. By the
time he arrived at his car his face was flaming hot.

The next stop at a d**g store far from his apartment was worse. There
was no hiding the douche kit or the package of panty liners. He was
very uncomfortable just being in the feminine hygiene aisle. He
circled the area several times waiting for two women to leave. He had
to really look to find the box marked "Bulb Syringe," open it to make
sure it was pink. He looked nervously around as he did that making
sure no one saw him. His face flushed brighter as he noticed the
camera dome above the aisle. Adding to his humiliation the clerk at
the cosmetics aisle gave him a funny look as she led him to the skin
care area. He expected to only make three or four purchases but she
loaded his cart with a lot more including cotton balls and pads.

"I can check you out over here. Love the color of your nails honey but
I got a new one in the other day that all the GIRLS just love. Do you
want me to get you a bottle? It's called Fabulous Maraschino but we
GIRLS just call it fuck me red. I bet it would drive your BOYFRIEND
wild," she said emphasizing the words "girls" and "boyfriend."

When a blushing James insisted that he didn't have a boyfriend, the
girl gave him a smug smile. "Look, I get a commission on cosmetic
sales and you bought a lot. So in case you want to impress a guy, I'll
toss in a bottle no charge."

James couldn't get out of that d**g store fast enough. "OMG! What a
friggin day. The only good thing was I didn't run into anyone I knew.
Shit! If that happened...I don't know what I would do."

When he got back home the parking lot was full and he had to park
further away than he wanted. It was windy and as he tried to make his
way discreetly, the colorful nightgowns plus the rustling of the
plastic covers drew attention. One arm held the night gowns over one
shoulder and his other full of bags from the d**g store. He had no way
to keep them from fluttering up into the air.

A beautiful brunette that he had hit on at the pool and wanted to date
saw him. "Is that you James?"

She was about twenty yards away and figured if he kept moving he could
get away. He could always deny it was him later provided she didn't
give chase. He held the nighties up covering his face as he walked
faster towards his place. Fortunately she kept on going but three
doors down from his place two men walked out of theirs right in front
of him.

He tried to rush past when one of them said, "Hey, aren't you James
from 116?"

"Crap! Those are the two ******s and the last people I wanted to see.
Crap! My day couldn't get any worse," he thought then said, "No, you
got the wrong guy. Gotta rush."

He walked past his own place, made a left back into the complex
intending to go to his back door. His luck didn't get any better as
the back of his apartment opened to the common area where the pool was.
It was Saturday and the area packed with people. He fumbled with the
black leather purse he had purchased at the mall, found his keys and
slammed the door shut as quickly as he could. He stood for several
minutes with his back pressed against the door, a cold sweat on his
forehead and his heart pounding.

"Damn it!" he shouted out in frustration.

Back in his bedroom he spread the first nightie out on his bed. It was
a frilly baby doll powder pink two layered nylon and chiffon with a
sheer pink robe dripping with pink satin ribbons and lots of pink lace
detailing. Unlike the others, this one came with a pair of matching
pink lace ruffled bloomer styled panties. Even he had to admit that
the second was gorgeous. It was a mid-calf length deep chocolate
sensuous nylon with a rounded collar with thin braided satin straps.
The semi-sheer matching negligee had balloon sleeves with vertical rows
of white lace coming together to form three tiers of over lapping lace
cuffs. It tied at the neck with a chocolate satin ribbon with the
front seams trimmed in white floral lace. The hem had four inches of
white lace decoration interspaced with dark chocolate satin ribbon
bows. The third matched the dark chocolate one except it was in a rich
plum color.

As he stepped back from his bed his cell rang. "They are simply
darling. I can't wait to see you in them. Go ahead and do it while I
watch. These cameras you bought are good but I would love to actually
see you in them."

"I'd rather not. It's been a fucking horrible day and to make matters
worse those two queer neighbors saw me. Look, just let me relax for a
friggin minute and I'll do what you ask. My damn nerves are shot.
Just not right now please."

"It looks to me like you had a wonderful day seeing those lovely gowns.
So what did your neighbors have to say? By the way, you cuss and use
vulgar words way too much. I'm going to have to correct that
immediately. From now on for every cuss word or vulgarity I hear, you
get one demerit. Collect ten demerits and you will be wearing
something more feminine to the office. So far you have earned four.
Going to try for more? Now tell me what they said to you."

"You don't think I would stop and actually talk to them, do you? They
make me sick. Four demerits? You just told me about them. You can't
fri..do that...that's not fair."

"You forget yourself! Who do you think is in charge here? I am and
you will do everything I tell you or you can forget about ever getting
out of that chastity. That's five demerits even if you didn't finish
saying the word. Now shut up and put on one of those gowns. Put me on
speaker phone so I can tell you what I think.

He was wearing the plum colored set when his doorbell rang. He ignored
it. "Aren't you going to answer the door?" came from his cell sitting
on the dresser.

"Like this? Not on your frig....errr..no of course not."

"That's another demerit. Now go see who it is and be polite. Take the
phone with you so I can listen in," she ordered as the bell rang again.

"Please don't make me open the door. I beg you, please, anything,
anything but this. It's that fag...gay guy from down the hall," he
gasped looking through the peep hole.

"That's seven and you will open the door and be real nice or you'll
never hear from me again."

James cracked open the door revealing just his head. "Yes, what do you
want?"

"James, right, well I'm Stephen from 120 and wanted to come say hello.
I thought maybe now that you've come out of the closet we could be
friends."

What he wanted to say was totally different than what he actually said.
"Yeah sure, come on in."

"Oh my, what a beautiful gown and I must say it looks gorgeous on you.
I must confess from seeing you in the past I never would have guessed.
You were so nasty to me and Gerald but now.....all I can say is wow.
While Gerald and I aren't into fem play, I'm stunned, simply stunned by
you. So macho before and so sweet looking now, what a contrast and I
love the change. I know it's so very difficult coming out and we saw
the fear in your eyes when you rushed past us earlier. I've done some
counseling at the LGBT center and want to help if I can. As a matter
of fact the center is having a social tonight. Why don't you come with
me and Gerald? I think it would be very beneficial and it really
helped me to know that I'm not alone."

James was fuming on the inside and it took all his will power not to
mash in the ******'s face. "Like I want to be his friend, much less go
to any fucking center and they're all a bunch of perverts and sickos.
Damn, I want to knock that smile off his face so bad but have to play
nice. Shit!"

He was about to reply when he heard, "Let me talk to him and take it
off speaker" coming from his cell. Reluctantly he handed his cell to
Stephen. It seemed to be a one sided conversation and the only thing
he could make of it was Stephen's broadening smile.

"Oh yes, I'll be more than happy to do that," Stephen said then handed
the phone back to James.

"I told him that I was your ther****t. You're not smiling or looking
happy so change the attitude and accept the invitation. Make sure you
give him a hug before he leaves."

Ooo

Per instructions James took his first bubble bath in decades using
plenty of the lavender bath beads and oil. He had already douched and
the bath did nothing to ease his mortification. Mistress was watching
everything he did and providing instructions via his cell. In the
process he had earned more demerits and would be wearing lipstick to
work on Monday.

Back in his bedroom he was told to put on his red lingerie but skip the
girdle. For outer wear he wore his pink Capri's with white floral
design around the cuffs and Hawaiian floral styled polyester blouse.
Dressed, he removed the pink polish and replaced it with the new
Maraschino varnish and freshened his pink lipstick.

Slipping into his silver three inch spiked heels for the first time he
almost toppled over. Mistress had to tell him to plant his toe first
and take small heel and toe steps. It took him half an hour to walk
without having to grab hold of something and another half to manage in
his heels. His experience with the two inch heels of his pumps helped.
After another half hour, if he took his time, did reasonably well.

At seven, he grabbed his purse and went to meet Stephen and Gerald. By
this time he had already gathered another five demerits and couldn't
afford another punishment. Mistress told him he would be wearing his
new pants to work if he did. There was no way she could monitor him
while with the ******s so he hoped to find an out of the way spot to
hide in.

Bertha Lou watched her computer screen as James followed her orders
smiling broadly. "That bastard made my last two years of high school a
living hell. By the time I'm through with him he'll never humiliate
another person. Oh no, he's going to be on the receiving end from now
on in more ways than one. I told that nice Stephen that James needed
strong guidance as he comes out. It seems James lapses into denial
about being gay. So I asked Stephen to find him a dominant male to
take his cherry. Once he has had a real life sexual encounter, James
would never think about going back. I assured him that it was
necessary for James to acknowledge his true sexual leanings. Having a
dominant lover who loved effeminate men and willing to keep James on
his true path might be life saving. Of course I added that James'
denial might surface but to ignore such protests as they would only be
a façade. I'm sure Stephen believed all that nonsense and I'd give
anything to be a fly on the wall at that social."

James was sitting in the back seat of Stephen's Mini-cooper when his
cell rang. Letting out a soft groan he answered his Mistress' call.
"Having fun yet my pet? I know I am and just wanted you to know that I
will be checking up on you tonight. When I call you had better be
socializing with someone as I will want to talk to them. So, if you
know what's good for you, be real nice and pleasant."

James' face was ashen as he put the phone back into his purse. "OMG!
What if someone hits on me? I don't have any desire to mix with these
wacko's but I have to. Shit! I'm even going to have to act like I'm
enjoying it."

The social was held at some rich fag's mansion and there were about
thirty people already there when they arrived. Stephen made sure to
introduce him to everyone and letting them know he was just coming out.
Being the new person everyone wanted to talk and learn more about him.
Other than one other man he was the most flamboyantly dressed at the
meeting. The lesbians were pleasant to him but didn't stay to talk
long. He could handle the lesbians but the men lingered much too long
and much too touchy feely for comfort. The other man who was dressed
in full drag queen attire was by far the worse. It seemed like he had
to reach out and pat James on the cheek or arm with every other word.
He was talking to Bruce when his cell rang. He wanted to move away to
answer but remembered her warning that she wanted to talk to whoever he
was with.

"Well my pet, are you having a wonderful time? No? That's not the
answer I wanted to hear so add another demerit. Now tell me you are
having a delightful time. That's much better. Are you with someone?
You are. Well what's his name? Bruce, see if he will let you take his
picture on your cell and send it to me. My, he's ruggedly handsome
isn't he? Let me talk to him."

James couldn't hear much of what they talked about. There was no
telling what lies Mistress was saying to Bruce but judging by the smile
on his face, it wouldn't be good for him. All he could do was stand
shifting on his aching feet until Bruce handed him the phone.

"Bruce seems to be a very nice man. Invite him over to your place for
Sunday supper. Remember be real nice and polite and I better see him
there. I'll call back later."

By the time the social ended James was a nervous wreck. Bruce stayed
by his side the whole night and even kissed him when he had to leave.
James was caught completely off guard when Bruce pulled him into his
massive chest and shoved his tongue down James' throat. He had also
signed up for membership in the club, promised to make the meetings,
wear the rainbow pin and had a date for Sunday night. Stephen said
they could car pool to the Friday evening meetings. Making matters
worse, Stephen stuck a rainbow decal on the back of James' car when
they got home.

His legs and feet were screaming in agony as he entered his apartment.
All he wanted to do was get out of those heels, out of the ridiculous
clothing and get a stiff drink. He did get out of the clothing but was
now wearing his powder pink baby doll and silver strappy sandals.
Mistress told him to wear the shoes whenever he was home as he needed
to get accustomed to them. She did let him have his much needed drink.
He wanted to drink the entire bottle to forget the day but only one
then off to bed.

Ooo

He didn't have a good nights sleep and awoke grumpy and his penis
hurting. With coffee in hand he went to check his email expecting only
the worse. Sure enough Mistress had things for him to do. He had to
go to the grocery to get something nice for dinner. Well nice for
Bruce he was going to have to settle for a small piece of Salmon. Last
week Mistress had put him on a vegan type of diet that included a lot
of fish but not any type of meat. Gone was his beer, sweets and chips
as well. He also had to get a nice table cloth, a candle and cute
candle holder. As long as he was shopping for a nice table cloth she
said to pick up a pink satin quilted comforter and pink linens and some
doilies to put on the back and arms of his sofa and living room chairs.
While at the grocery he also had to get floral scented plug-ins for
every outlet in the house.

"Damn it, it's bad enough that I have to dress like a ****** now she
wants my apartment looking and smelling like one. Is she ever going to
stop screwing up my life?"

He decided to get the linens first before heading to the grocery. Both
excursions embarrassing and drew a lot of attention. He really
couldn't blame people from looking dressed like he was. Mistress had
insisted that he wear the flaming orange stretch pants with and equally
bright purple with white floral decoration polyester blouse and his
three inch heels.

When James returned to his place there was another package sitting by
his door. Opening it he found a dozen gay porn DVDs and a note
reading, "Place these where they can be easily seen. If your date asks
to put one on do so. You better act like you enjoy it BUT him even
more. If you put on a very good show for me, I may consider freeing
you. Mistress"

"OMG! If Bruce sees these....shit....after kissing me....he'll....man I don't
want to go there....but...I might have to if it means she'll finally free
me. Once I get out of this damn chastity I can get my life back
but....damn at what cost?"

The table cloth was white cotton with a pink boarder and his stomach
churned as he spread it on the table. He placed the pink crystal rose
candle holder in the center and pressed the white vanilla scented
candle in the hole. Finding the package with the matching cotton
napkins he carefully folded then put two out next to the pink place
mats. With the table set, he put the white lace doilies out on the
sofa and chair then replaced his bed linens with the new pink ones.

Stepping back he let out a heavy sigh, "This is worse than I thought.
No guy has this much fucking pink or the smell of flowers in his
bedroom. Oh well nothing for it now better check my email. No doubt
she has more shit for me," he thought.

"Pet: I know you will just love my present but I've been thinking. So
instead of s**ttering those around I want you to put "Cock Whore" into
your DVD and play it after dinner. I'm positive you will find it both
entertaining and educational."

"I like what you have done to your room and the dinning room. It's so
you don't you think? Maybe later you will want to paint the walls in
the bedroom a delightful powder pink but that will have to wait. It's
getting late and you need time to prepare for your date. Attached you
will find a recipe for a wonderful marinade for that steak you bought
for Bruce. Remember you are on a special diet and I will be watching.
Prepare as much of the dinner as you can now then you must get ready.
Tonight douche at least three times and use plenty of your bath beads.
Also, wear the black lingerie but skip the girdle. I think the purple
satin slacks with the flare legs and your white with floral imprinted
peasant blouse and silver sandals will be perfect. You do want to make
the right impression tonight, don't you? When Bruce leaves tonight or
in the morning I want to see him very happy. If I am satisfied with
your performance I will consider letting you free. Mistress"

"Letting me free? That's all I want but damnation what is it going to
cost me?" he thought then typed. "Alright already but you have to
promise to free me when this is over."

Almost immediately he got a reply. "You forget yourself again! You do
not tell me anything. You do as you are told! That just earned you
two more demerits and ten so far today. As punishment you will go
Monday to the Piercing Pagoda in the mall, select a pearl and a pink
zirconium stud for the double piercing. Now you've wasted enough time.
Go and get ready for your date. Your performance tonight is even more
important if you ever want out of chastity."

James was lighting the bar-b-que when the doorbell rang. Taking off
his apron as he walked through the kitchen, quickly checked his
lipstick in the hallway mirror opened the door. Bruce was holding a
bottle of wine and bunch of red roses. As he stepped through the
doorway almost filling the frame, reached out with the hand holding the
bottle taking James around the waist and pulled him close for a kiss.
When the kiss broke James wanted to rub his arm across his violated
lips but resisted the urge. Instead he took the bottle and roses with
a polite thank you before leading Bruce into the kitchen. He didn't
have a vase and used a glass water pitcher for the roses which he then
placed on the table.

Bruce was more than happy to cook his own porterhouse steak while James
finished preparing the rest of the meal. The meal was leisurely and
Bruce did most of the talking. He owned a gym and day spa where he
worked out regularly. James did his best not to tell Bruce too much
about himself but admitted he was an accountant. He also tried to draw
out the dinner for as long as possible knowing what he had to do next.

With both the food and wine consumed, he had no choice and invited
Bruce to watch a movie with him. It was obvious from the opening
credits that this movie was rated XXX and James' stomach was
threatening to upchuck his dinner. They were sitting on the sofa next
to each other. James had tried to sit further away but Bruce put his
arm over his shoulders and pulled him closer so their hips touched.
The movie opened up with a guy on his knees with the biggest cock James
had ever seen in the guy's mouth. As the movie progressed with even
more hot gay sexual activity, Bruce was becoming friendlier with James.
At first it was squeezes to the arm but soon Bruce's hand had moved
down to James' thigh. When Bruce pulled his arm from around James'
shoulders he gave him a deep wet tongue kiss. It wasn't long before
Bruce became more demanding, the kisses lasting longer and the touching
more intimate.

As they literally swapped spit, Bruce's fingers were pulling and
pinching James nipples. James was in panic mode and incapable of
fending off the advances. Bruce was too strong for him and obviously
getting very horny. The only thing keeping James from running and
screaming from the room was the promise of freedom.

"OMG! If I have to swallow anymore of his spit I'm gonna be sick. I
don't want this but got to keep my shit together if I ever want out of
this fucking chastity. I hope he'll be satisfied with just kissing and
hugging but I doubt it. With the way she made me dress and act tonight
I all but asked for him to fuck me. I don't know if I can do that but
she insisted that I make him happy or else. Crap! I've got to get
through this and do what I have to. I can't stand being in chastity
any longer. Maybe if I give him a blow job I can get this over with
quickly. I could probably forget that in time but if he puts his thing
up my ass.....man I don't want to go there."

James' thoughts became hopeful when he felt Bruce grab his hand and
place it on his crotch. "OMG! It feels like he has a baseball bat
hidden in there. Shit, maybe I'll luck out and he'll settle for a hand
job."

His hands shaking James reached over and fumbling managed to undo
Bruce's pants and pull down the zipper. Grimacing, he reached in and
pulled a fat nine inch erect penis out from the boxer shorts.

"Damn, my hand barely reaches around this monster," he said in shock
not realized he spoke out loud.

"That's right baby I got a big one and it's all for you tonight. Go
ahead and stroke it. Yeah cupcake fold back that foreskin and give it
a little kiss," Bruce ordered putting a beefy hand on the back of
James' neck and pushing.

"Just close your eyes and get this over with," James' mind screamed.

"Swallow cupcake, keep swallowing and you'll soon have it all the way
in. Relax your throat and keep swallowing. Yeah, just like that. Oh
baby, you're gonna be good with practice I just know it. Come on stay
relaxed while I pump my dick all the way in. Ahhhh, use those lips and
tongue. Oh, I gonna cum and you better swallow all of it. My cum is
just too precious to waste," Bruce encouraged as he held the sides of
James' head firmly down and pressed into his pubic hair.

He took his time slowly pumping in and out knowing that he was actually
taking James' oral cherry. That knowledge came from his conversation
with Bertha Lou and made his enjoyment all the more. Bertha Lou had
told him about the self imposed chastity, that James was a virgin and
in desperate need of a strong determined boyfriend.

Gasping for breath James jerked back from the softening pole that had
been blocking his air way. With the salty slimy taste of semen on his
lips, tongue and in his nose, he didn't have long to catch his breath
as Bruce placed another lip lock on him. With his stomach boiling and
bile rising, James managed to free himself and rushed into the bathroom
just in time. He heaved his guts out until there was nothing else to
come up. Getting up from the commode, he grabbed the bottle of mouth
wash and emptied it before washing his face. Feeling better but still
pale, he went back into the living room.

Bruce was sitting on the sofa completely nude watching the movie and
stroking his immense dick. "Crap! I was hoping he'd be ready to
leave. I need a stiff drink."

"Bruce I have some Jack Daniels do you want some?" he asked trying to
avoid going back to the sofa.

"Yeah cupcake, pour a good shot over some ice then get that pretty ass
back over here."

James grabbed the biggest tumbler he had and filled it to the brim with
the liquor but not before taking a healthy swallow from the bottle
first.

"Maybe I can get him drunk and he'll fall asleep," he thought as his
cell phone hummed to life. "It's her damn it, now what does she want?"
he thought before answering, "Yes mistress."

"Pet that was very hot. I was as impressed with Bruce's package as I
know you were. I'm willing to bet that you were jealous of it compared
to your itty bitty thing. I saw you in the bath. You poor baby you
looked so sick. It must have been from that Salmon you had for dinner
tonight. Fish spoils so easily. I'm beginning to consider removing
your device but you really really need to convince me tonight. Now fix
your lipstick and change into that cute pink baby doll nightie before
you take that drink to your boyfriend. Oh and you've already had your
drink so pour that one out you made for yourself. Pet you will want to
keep a clear head if you're going to make your boyfriend happy."

"Please Mistress don't make me put on that nightie and I really need
that drink."

"Well you can skip the nightie but he's already naked in your living
room. Do you honestly think he'll let you stay dressed when you bring
him his drink? I was just trying to be helpful pet and forget the
drink. Oh, one last thing, keep the heels, hose and garter belt on.
It makes your ass look so damn cute."

"Okay, okay I'll do it," he replied then thought, "I hope he's like
most gays and doesn't like men in women's clothing."

Ooo

"Cup cake you look fantastic in that nightie," Bruce greeted when he
returned. "I'm not like most gay men you know. I'm really turned on
by real feminine partners. Hell the only thing better in a partner is
if they had small boobs. Come on sit here on my lap until the movie is
over."

"Crap! He's probably the only gay in the city that wants another man
with tits no less. Why did I have to be talking to him when she called?
I'm gonna be sick again. This movie is disgusting. I wish she at
least had the decency to let me get drunk," he thought as the same man
giving head was now on all four getting his ass reamed out by some big
buff black dude while orally pleasuring someone else.

When the movie ended Bruce picked James up and carried him into the
bedroom. There he dropped him onto the bright pink satin comforter,
turned him over on his stomach, pulled the panties down and his ass up.

"I know you've wanted this ever since you asked me to come over cup
cake. You got any lubed condoms handy, in the bedside drawer. I'll
make this as easy as I can but you're going to have to relax that pussy
or it's really gonna hurt," he said as he rolled a red condom down his
massive shaft.

True to his word Bruce took his time slowly working his dick into
James' rosebud. Never the less it hurt like nothing had hurt before
and he screamed in pain as the head popped in. Bruce had a tight grip
on James' ass and began slowly bringing him back into his groin. He
didn't stop until his balls smashed against James' white cheeks.
Slowly at first then speeding up, he pumped pulling and pushing James'
ass until with one last deep thrust filled the condom. He crashed
exhausted on top of James pinning him to the bed. James was bawling
his eyes out and gasping from pain feeling like his ass was on fire.

When Bruce finally rolled off him, James slowly and weak kneed made his
way into the master bath. He felt like he had been split in two as a
sticky wetness dribbled down his thighs. Pulling down his panties
noticed a large wet spot on the front and realized that his penis was
burning as well.

"OMG! I came in my panties! This can't be! I'm not queer and hurt
too much," he thought as he reached between his legs to wipe away the
wetness.

Pulling the tissue away he felt something snap from his asshole. It
was the red condom. That was all it took for him to have a sever case
of the dry heaves. Getting up he grabbed a hand mirror and checked out
the damage done to his aching butt. What he saw scared him. His hole
looked swollen and distorted. There was no blood but it appeared that
some of his intestines had bulged out framing it. Putting down the
mirror went to the sink and washed his face. Looking into the mirror
he noticed several large hickies around his neck and sad and red rimmed
eyes. Grabbing the mouthwash, he gargled several times before gingerly
walking back into the bedroom. Bruce was snoring loudly but he kept on
walking finally lying down on the sofa to get some much needed sleep.

Ooo

James woke sore and stiff, his asshole still aching. Forcing himself
off the sofa went to the bedroom. Bruce was nowhere to be seen and he
breathed out in relief. The hot bubble bath felt marvelous but didn't
seem to clean the dirt off. He still felt dirty as he first
moisturized then powdered with the lavender scented talc. Every
movement made the horrible events of last night come back full force.
Pulling on a robe, he stepped into his heels and went to make some much
needed coffee. There was a note sitting on the kitchen table.

"Cup cake last night was wonderful and the sex amazing. Recommend you
have some Astroglide for me to use next time. I hate using rubbers. I
didn't want to disturb you though I was tempted you were a beautiful
sight. I'll call you later. Luv B."

"Like there's going to be a next time," James said wadding the note and
tossing it into the trash.

Grabbing his coffee went to his computer and opened his email. There
were two from Mistress waiting for him. He opened the newest one, "Pet
I saw you toss that note into the trash. I know it was from your
boyfriend so tell me what it said. Better yet get it, scan it and send
to me. Do it now!"

Mumbling cuss words under his breath retrieved the note and sent it.
While waiting for the reply, he opened the first email. "Pet I can't
begin to tell you how much I enjoyed your performance last night. It
looked like you were squealing and squirming like a pig eating slop
when Bruce rammed that big dick of his into your cute ass. I'm sorry I
couldn't hear your squeals and moans of delight. Your only task today
is to buy some of those hidden microphones and put one near your bed,
one in the kitchen and one near the sofa. You earned the first number
on the lock, (4). You only have three more to earn your freedom. How
about a great big thank you? Don't forget tomorrow you will be wearing
a pair of your satin slacks and lipstick to work because you earned
twenty demerits. Immediately after work don't forget your stop at the
Piercing Pagoda. Mistress."

"What? That's all I get! One stinking number, fuck!" he thought as he
started his reply. He didn't get far before remembering to be humble
and polite. "Mistress: Thank you so much for giving me the first
number. I beg you please to reconsider those penalties. I'll gladly
pay you whatever you want, just don't make me go to the office like
that."

It wasn't long after he sent the reply that he received a new message.
"Pet: First things first, you earned those demerits and must comply.
I don't need your money and consider your offer an insult. If you paid
me that means you think I'm a blackmailer. I'm not forcing you to do
anything. I'm only recommending tasks. Now when your boyfriend calls
I expect you to say yes if he asks you out, be really sweet. While you
are out buying those microphones you really should pick up a supply of
that personal lubricant. You're going to need it. Mistress."

Ooo

Monday he received a lot of stares from his colleagues at work. His
two best friends said hello but avoided him for the rest of the day.
Mistress had called him five times checking to make sure he had on
plenty of lipstick and wearing the correct clothing. She called again
as he was walking out of the Piercing Pagoda telling him to put his
phone on face time. She just had to see his new earrings.

"At last I get to see your fucking face. Once I find out who you are I
can stop all this bull shit," he thought but again, disappointed. She
had her finger over her camera.

"Pet those earrings are so precious looking on you. You know some men
might get away with a glittery pink stone but I can't think of any man
that would wear pearls in his ears. You are so daring pet. I have
another task for today. Wearing satin slacks with your men's shirts
and shoes doesn't seem appropriate for the office. I'm sure you were
embarrassed all day and I know you didn't like that. What you need are
some sharp looking pants suits. No need to thank me now but purchase
five outfits, one baby blue, a navy, powder pink, black pin stripe and
grey all in polyester. If you want to earn some brownie points to get
the next number of the combination buy contrasting silk blouses
preferably with a crowl neck."

She hung up before he could object. A much humbled James arrived home
with the pants suits and silk blouses. Of course Mistress wanted to
see him model each one. She loved him in the powder pink flare legged
suit and especially the cowl necked cream silk blouse.

"Pet that one really stands out. I just love it, don't you? You must
save that one for next Saturday when you go out with your boyfriend.
I'm sure he will go gaga over it. With your silver lingerie and
sandals you will really have him drooling."

"I don't have and don't want a boyfriend. I still don't feel right
about that last damn date. I'm only doing this because you have given
me no fucking choice," he replied frustrated and without thinking.

"That's two more demerits bringing your total to six for today and your
week hasn't even started. I told you no more curse words ever! Your
vocabulary needs to be as sweet as you look. No more arguments or you
get another demerit. Change into a pair of your stretch pants and a
cute blouse. As you go about doing whatever tonight I want to hear you
say over and over 'I love Bruce'. By the way those hidden microphones
work excellently. I especially love that cute little teddy bear you
put on your bedside table."

Going to work on Tuesday wearing his new baby blue pants suit and beige
silk blouse caused more of a stir than on Monday. The only male items
he had on were his loafers and socks.

"It's embarrassing to wear this but if they found out about my lingerie
and panty hose.....that would be horrible. My two buddies didn't even
say hi to me this morning. Maybe after this weekend she'll give me the
full combination then I can stop all this."

Wednesday and Thursday were no less humiliating but he endured the
looks and side comments. Wednesday night he managed to get his tenth
demerit when he forgot to say, "I love Bruce" one hundred times. That
was another task she had assigned him Monday night. Thursday morning
he found a box at his door as he was leaving for work. His stomach
sank as he read the accompanying note.

"Pet for your punishment and to erase the ten demerits, wear these to
work from now on."

Inside the shoe box was a pair of four inch pencil heeled strappy
sandals in a shiny black patent leather. "OMG! I won't be able to
walk in these things. My three inch ones are bad enough but these?" he
muttered taking off his loafers and socks.

With those shoes he had to take short mincing steps carefully placing
one foot toe first in front of the other and his back straight to
maintain his balance. He didn't realize that as he walked his ass
developed a nice sexy sway. Mistress checked up on him three times to
make sure he was wearing the shoes but otherwise left him alone for the
rest of the week. The only people that talked to him anymore at the
office were some of the secretaries. The men shunned him like the
plague.

He spent Saturday morning at the salon for a full body was, dye and
style and manicure/pedicure. That evening he was getting last minute
instructions from Bertha Lou.

"Pet remember be real sweet with your boyfriend. After all he is
taking you to a restaurant and movie. When the movie is over insist he
bring you home and spend the night. After all, I can't see or hear
what you two are up to if you're not here. If you want that second
number, make sure he agrees."

Bruce took him to a nice but not fancy Chinese place where James had
the pepper shrimp. The movie "Broke Back Mountain" he thought he would
enjoy until the gay scene started. With the movie finally over Bruce
wanted to take James to a gay bar.

"Come on Jamie it'll be fun and besides I want to show off my new
partner."

"Bruce you know I don't drink much an....and...be...besides...I...I planned on...on
taking you...you home."

"I promise we won't stay long. Come on it will be fun."

"Oh shit, if I don't get him home soon Mistress will be pissed and
probably no matter what I do, she won't give me that next number," he
thought before replying even though he hated what he had to say. "But
I got that lubricant you said to get and can...can't wait to use it."

"Cup cake, why didn't you say that sooner? We can go to the bar some
other time."

Back at the apartment James did his best to stall the inevitable by
offering him a drink and saying he had to get more comfortable. In the
bedroom he put his purse on the dresser top and removed his pants suit
and blouse.

"I hope you're satisfied," he said knowing she would hear as he removed
the chocolate gown from the closet.

He started for the bathroom to apply a fresh coat of lipstick when his
cell rang. "I hope you weren't being sarcastic pet. Now put on a good
show. Remember lots of moaning and I love you Bruce's and I'll give you
the next number provided he stays the night and you wake him up with a
bit of oral play."

"Damn that woman! Now I have to act like I enjoy this shit. At least
she said she would give me the number. Maybe I only have to do this
two more times. The first time left me feeling like shit and tonight
probably won't be any better. I've got to get this chastity off," he
thought walking back into the living room.

Bruce was sitting on the sofa, a half full glass of Jack Daniels and
the bottle sitting on the table. He was also naked and slowly stroking
his nine inch snake. "Hot damn cup cake you do dress up fine. Get
that pretty ass over here and help me out with this thing."

He minced over and sat next to Bruce. Bruce's muscled chest and six
pack abs were covered in black hair and a thick wirery patch covered
his groin. Trying to delay what he knew was coming. James reached up
and ran his fingers through the mat of chest hair. Bruce was more than
ready reaching out and pulling down James' robe and the gowns' straps.
With his chest exposed Bruce gave him a deep tonsil teasing French
kiss. As the kiss lingered his fingers were pinching and pulling on
James' boy titties.

"Cup cake you are beautiful and a delight. I just wish you had a bit
more on top. Nothing too large, just a mouthful would be ideal. You
know I don't care about that caged cock of yours so how about you
getting on some female hormones? I've got a doctor friend who can
prescribe them. What cha say?"

"Hormones? I don't want to be a woman," he gasped in surprise and
horror.

"Well promise me that you will think about it. I definitely don't want
you to be a complete woman. Like I told you, I get my kicks from being
with a guy who looks like a girl from the neck down. There's just
something about that I can't really explain but I would like you with a
small pair. Just a mouth full cup cake that's all," Bruce said as he
lowered his head, began nuzzling and sucking on James' right breast.

Ooo

Bruce left James' apartment around noon with a big smile. As soon as
James shut and locked the door he made a bee line to the master bath.
He was sore, still had the taste of Bruce in his mouth and semen
dripping from his ass. After he bathed, brushed his teeth ten times
before using half a bottle of mouth wash he grabbed the hand mirror to
inspect his burning butt. Sure enough his anus was open and what
looked like small flower petals encircled it. Putting the mirror back
on the counter top, he couldn't keep the tears from flowing.

Back in his room he put a panty liner into the cotton crotch of his
watermelon colored nylon high cut briefs. He really didn't need panty
liners before but as more tears filled his eye knew he needed them now.
Picking up his discarded nightie he noticed two large stains on the
chocolate nylon. One stain on the front was smaller than the one on
the back. When the head of Bruce's dick continuingly hit a certain
spot, it made James ooze out his pent up cum. He felt the release when
it happened but not the intense rapturous feeling he got when
masturbating or fucking a girlfriend.

"I can't believe I've sunk this low but what choices do I have. If I
stop or refuse then I'm stuck forever like this. Stuck with no hope of
ever cumming again or being with a woman. She had better have left me
that next number after I made myself a total slut for her," he thought
going over to his computer.

"Pet that was simply a marvelous performance or should I say
performances. You two actually made me wet my panties five times. Are
you sure you're not really gay? If not you could have fooled me. I
saw you in the bathroom and noticed your problem. Repeated anal sex
can cause the intestine to prolapse and the anal ring stretched. I
believe when that happens the anus is referred to as a rose bud. Those
pads won't be enough I'm afraid. The only way to stop that excess
leakage is for you to buy and use super tampons. My personal favorite
is Tampax Pearls. I think you should buy this brand as it is full
sized, has a plastic applicator and scented. Considering where you are
going to put it, the plastic and scented verity would be best. So the
only task I'm giving you today is to buy them. Oh, I almost forgot, I
did promise you the second number didn't I (5). If you want the third
number you will call Bruce and tell him that you won't take hormones
but will get implants. Don't forget to tell him how much you loved
last night. Mistress."

"Implants? I can't possibly get implants. I don't want breasts.
Please I've gone along with everything you have demanded so far.
You've ruined my life already isn't that enough?"

"Pet you still have two numbers to earn and no I'm not satisfied yet.
However, I will give you a choice. You can elect to get temporary
implants or go on hormones. The choice is yours. I can recommend Dr.
Verna Wilson if you decide on implants. She has an excellent
reputation in the medical field. You've earned two demerits for being
sassy with me. Mistress."

Bertha Lou sat back smiling. "Breasts, I never would have thought of
that, thank you Bruce for giving me that idea. Yes, small ones, no
bigger than a full A. With a little work my James would be passable in
public but I don't want that. No, there's no humiliation in being able
to pass. I don't mind if he develops a feminine figure but I want him
seen as a flaming ******."






Big Fat Bertha Lou Part 3

Bertha Lou sat back smiling broadly. "I was right about men only
thinking about their dicks and James proves it. I can't believe that
he has done everything I asked just to get that chastity off. By the
time I let him out of that contraption he won't be able to have an
erection. His brain will associate getting an erection results in
severe pain. Plus with that device, his testicles pushed up into his
body and the heat from his girdles he'll be neutered in any case. He's
dressing like a flaming ******, actually engaging in gay sex and now
has agreed to get implants. Of course he thinks its temporary but
taking them out is actually more complicated and extensive than putting
them in. I wonder how much further I can push him. The one thing I
don't want to happen is for him to ever pass as a woman. There would
be no humiliation if he goes that far. Let's see, he has two demerits
already so getting ten by next weekend won't be a problem. Now all
I've got to do is figure out a proper punishment."

Ooo

It was Monday and the start of another work week that he wasn't looking
forward too. None of his old male friends wanted to have anything to
do with him. Tolerating his presents only because of company policies,
they were cordial but as brief as possible when talking to him about
company business. The only associates that would actually be friendly
and talk to him were most of the secretarial pool. Even then he tried
to limit his exposure as they usually embarrassed the hell out of him.
They mostly wanted to make him talk about his coming out, his
boyfriends or where he purchased something he was wearing.

At first he tried to stay in his cubical and avoided as much exposure
to his fellow workers as possible. When he complained about Melissa,
one of the secretaries, trying to get him to join the other girls
during break time, Mistress demanded that he accept her offer. James
didn't like that but figured there was no way for Mistress to know if
he did or didn't. That idea was dashed when Bertha Lou said she would
call Melissa to check up on him and how well he participated in their
conversations.

Doris, his stylist, was much worse as James was a captive audience.
She drilled him unmercifully getting more and more details of his gay
relationship than he was comfortable with. Each of his trips to the
salon was very humiliating answering questions on kissing techniques
gay's use and such. The absolute worse was when waxing his body, she
noticed the string hanging out of his ass. Those questions brought
tears to his eyes. Unfortunately, she thought the tears were from the
pain of his waxing and not his complete humiliation.

The only people that didn't give him the cold shoulder or make
derogatory comments were the other members of the LGBT group he met
with every second Friday. Despite their friendliness James' ego was
diminished with each meeting. He hated having to act like a gay man
but having to interact like one with a group of them left him feeling
less of a real man.

Stephen and Gerald, his gay neighbors, would stop by his apartment
occasionally for a short visit or invited him over to their place.
James did his best to avoid them as Bruce was more than enough queers
intruding into his life. Of course he had to be friendly and courteous
when they visited as Mistress was watching and listening.

Monday noon when most of the employees had left for lunch, James stayed
back to make a very personal call. "I wonder how many men call Dr.
Wilson asking for breast implants. This is going to be embarrassing
but it's either this or take female hormones and I certainly don't want
that."

Tuesday morning he took a half day off sick so he could see Dr. Wilson.
He was wearing his baby blue pants suit with royal blue polyester cowl
necked blouse and pencil heels. When he entered there were two female
patients waiting who gave him a hard look but said nothing.

The receptionist was a pretty young thing he would have loved to ask
out but she brought a bright flush to his cheeks when she said loudly,
"Oh you're the man that called wanting breast implants." He sat
blushing the whole time he waited for his turn as the two women kept
taking side glances at him and suppressing giggles. When it came to
his turn he was nervous as a cat walking past a dog house.

Dr. Verna Wilson was a kindly faced older woman with salt and pepper
hair. She gave him a standard physical examination, took blood samples
and urine specimen. She asked him a number of very personal questions
which Mistress told him to expect and the correct answers.

"Yes, Doctor I've been dressing for over a year. Yes, Doctor I have to
have implants but nothing larger than a full A-cup for now. Yes, Ma'am
I have a boyfriend and he approves," he dutifully answered while
cringing at each on the inside.

"Very well Mr. Archer I'll do the procedure. It's relatively simple,
performed on an out patient basis and will take about six hours. Most
of that time will be in recovery and you will need someone to bring and
take you home. Basically what I will do is make a small incision in
your arm pits, insert an inflatable bag under each breast and inject a
gel like fluid to fill them to the appropriate size you asked for. It
will have to be done under anesthetic and you will need a few days to
recuperate. I can pretty much guarantee that they will look and feel
natural but there are risks. Any questions? If not, I will schedule
you in for Friday next week at eight here in my office."

James walked out of the office clutching several pamphlets that
explained breast augmentation procedures and after care. Both his
hands were shaking so much he had to grip the steering wheel as tightly
as he could. Secretly he hoped that Mistress only wanted to thoroughly
humiliate him and not make him go through with the procedure. He
desperately wanted a stiff drink to calm his nerves but there was no
way he would go into any bar looking like he did now.

Back at his place he had one more task to complete. He was to call
Stephen and ask him to accompany him to get his procedure done.
Stephen was the swishier of his two gay neighbors and worked from home.
Stephen was way too touchy feely and spoke with a slight lisp which
sent chills running up and down James' spine every time they were
together.

Gathering his courage knocked on Stephen's door as he looked around to
see if any of his other neighbors were about. He didn't want any more
people finding out about him than he already had. So far his exposure
around the complex was limited to mostly Stephen and Gerald.

"Hi there sweetie, my you look so fab in that cute outfit. Come on
in," Stephen greeted warmly giving James a quick hug and air kiss.

Ooo

James had another intimate date with Bruce on Saturday but Mistress
wouldn't give him the third number until after he got his new breasts.
He was jittery and on edge during the work week that followed. He
still held out a slim hope that Mistress would stop him but as each day
slipped past without a word those hopes died.

Friday morning the only words he heard from Mistress were, "Good luck."

When he came to in the recovery room, Stephen was holding his hand.
"You're awake, here the nurse told me you would probably be thirsty,"
he said placing a straw to his lips.

"Gawd, I feel like I've been hit by a train. Is....is it over?"

"Yes and while you're all bandaged up the Doctor said every thing came
out perfect. Now unless you need anything else I need to get back to
my laptop. You just rest and I will be right over there in the waiting
room."

After a couple of more hours James was feeling much better. There was
an ache around his chest but otherwise not in too much pain. The
Doctor finally came in, removed the bandages and held a mirror up for
him to see. Two small but very noticeable protrusions were on his
chest scarred with black and blue marks."

"That bruising will go away in a few days but other wise they look very
natural. I want you on bed rest over the weekend and no heavy lifting.
Do not take this bra off except for bathing during that time. By
Monday you should be able to return to your normal routine," she said
mistaking the horror for concern on his face.

"Now I want you to sit up slowly, here let me help. While small you
will need a good support bra for the next week. After that you can
wear or not wear a bra of your choice. Although I do recommend that
you wear a comfortable bra during the day all the time. You're not
experienced having breasts so make sure you get someone to fit you
properly. Most of the lingerie stores provide that service for free.
Now try not to move while I fasten this," she said hooking the full
coverage white cotton bra behind his back.

James spent a horrible weekend recuperating. He had sent the photos of
his new chest to Mistress but other than that was left to himself. He
did his best not to look at his bra covered chest but could not ignore
them. Every time he moved his arms he felt them, whenever he glanced
down he saw them and worst was seeing them as he bathed. He cried a
lot that weekend. The only good thing about his situation was that he
was left alone.

Sunday, while in the bath, cupped his new appendages in his palms for
the first time. He kind of knew what to expect but was surprised at
how real and sensitive they felt. He also noted that the Doctor had
done something to his nipples. They were bigger and thicker than they
had been. His nipples looked more like small pencil erasers. If it
weren't for the yellowish-brown marks of the fading bruising, no one
could tell they were fakes.

"Damn that Doctor was good," he thought breaking out in a fresh set of
tears.

That evening he checked his email. "Pet I absolutely adore your new
assets and can't wait to see how much your Bruce enjoys them. As
promised here is the third number to the combination (7). Just one
more to go and you will have all the numbers. Aren't you happy?"

"Over the weekend you forgot to say your 'I love Bruce' mantras and
that brings your accumulated demerits to ten, so you have a punishment
to pay. I've decided you need your very own personalized scent. Every
girl has a special perfume and I have decided yours will be pineapple.
Nothing says fruit more than the smell of pineapples don't you think?
It was hard to find but I did some research and found a nice ethnic
store that carries that particular scent. It's called Caribbean
Delight and the six ounce bottle only costs $19.95. Isn't that great?
During your lunch break tomorrow go there and buy a couple of bottles.
I can see and hear everything that you do at home but I can't smell.
You have never seen me. I could be any girl out there and if I chance
by and don't smell pineapples, well you know the answer. As a matter
of fact you love the sweet aroma of pineapples so much you will buy any
hair care or body product that contains pineapple scent."

"Now that we got all that out of the way, you need some bras. Go back
to that lingerie store, ask for a proper fitting and purchase at least
a dozen in different styles in sexy shimmering colors. Insist they be
slightly padded and provide up lift. You are proud of your titties
aren't you? So don't be ashamed to show them off a bit. Make sure the
sales clerks see the absolute joy of getting your first real bra on
your face. Believe me, I will call and ask if you were really happy.
Mistress."

Bertha Lou watched contentedly as James started to cry again. "The
humiliation of getting a fitting has to be great for a one time macho
man. I still can't believe he actually went through that procedure.
If he had done any research he would have known that female hormones
take ages to have any effect. Hormones are also easier to correct than
having implants removed but I'm so glad he chose to get them."

Ooo

Monday James felt like every eye at the office was staring at his chest
keeping a blush on his cheeks the entire day. In fact with his jacket
on no one noticed the slight bulges. Seeing him for so long wearing
brassy blonde hair, polished nails, pink lipstick and his various pants
suits most of the staff no longer paid much attention to "that gay guy"
as they now thought of him.

At lunch he found the small perfumery and purchased two bottles. The
Brazilian clerk didn’t bat an eye when he walked in and asked for that
particular fragrance. She even dabbed some behind his ears, on his
wrists and along his neck from the sample bottle for him. He left the
store smelling strongly of sweet pineapple with a hint of mango. As he
went back to work anyone that passed by him turned their heads and
sniffed.

“Great, just fucking great, just what I need more attention coming my
way.”

As was becoming the norm James couldn’t concentrate on his work. He
was too occupied worrying about getting fitted for a bra. Five o’clock
came all too soon and he drove to the lingerie store. The same clerk
that had helped him before frowned when he approached but couldn’t
stifle the laugh as he asked to be measured.

“OMG! What a fruit cake! He even smells like a fruit. Geez, why do I
get all the weirdo’s? Now he wants to be fitted for a bra. Like my
manager says though a sale is a sale,” she thought but said, “Sure
follow me to the back.”

She was surprised to find him wearing a cotton support bra when he
removed his blouse but shocked to see that he had real breasts. She
was loath to touch him but fascinated at the same time. Under the
pretext of taking measurements, she fondled them for a few moments.

“My gawd! They feel so real. He must be taking hormones. I don’t
think implants could feel that real,” she thought reaching down to pick
up her measuring tape.

She measured just under his breasts then across the nipples. Stepping
back she said that he was a 36-A. The slight frown on her lips turned
into a smile when he told her what he needed. This was going to be a
very good sale.

“So he wants padded and uplift does he? Well I think I’m going to have
a lot of fun with this. Of course what he wants will be very expensive
and my commission will come in handy,” she thought as she began
selecting gel filled bras that guaranteed up to a two size improvement.

James gasped when she handed him a bright scarlet and burgundy accented
uplift bra. Remembering at the last minute he had to act like he was
thoroughly enjoying getting his first bra gushed, “Oh this is lovely.
I can’t wait to put it on. Would you please help me?”

“Gawd! To think that when he first came here I thought I might go out
with him. What a fruitcake,” she thought showing him how to adjust the
small metal slides on the straps.

When he finally got the three hook and eye closure fastened, he got a
big shock. “They look gigantic!” he gasped.

“Well you asked for padding and uplift and the bras that I brought you
do just that. Those are really popular with the smaller girls you
know. That gel fill technology is really great and doesn’t add much
weight. Plus you get a nice looking C-cup to fill out your blouses and
dresses. Trust me, you’ll get a lot more attention from the guys
wearing that bra,” she said with a giggle.

With his face almost as red as the bra, started to say something but
decided not too. If Mistress called, he needed the clerk whose name
was Sheila, to say he seemed very happy. Instead of telling her to
find something less padded, smiled, clapped his hands together and told
her how wonderful the bra was. He definitely wasn’t happy as he walked
out of the store wearing that red bra and carried a bag with eleven
more.

“What’s this? He’s grown at lot bigger in the chest than I wanted. No
one would really notice his small titties but now, hell, everyone will
stare at his chest. I was afraid that having bigger ta-tas would make
him more passable but no one looking at his face would see a woman,”
she thought then said, “Pet, show me the bras you just purchased. I
thought I told you to get slightly padded ones. The sales girl picked
them out huh. You bought them, so you must really enjoy having nice
breasts and want the attention they bring from the guys. Are you sure
you’re not gay? Never the less Pet I have another task for you. If
you go through with it, I will give you the next and final number.
Tomorrow night I want you to get a tattoo. Nothing too extreme but I
want you to get a tramp stamp across the small of your back. When you
get to the shop give the tattooist my number and I’ll tell him exactly
what I want. Since Saturday will be the first time your boyfriend
Bruce sees your cute little titties, the tattoo will be another
surprise that will surely get his hormones flowing. Do that and you
will get the number Sunday.”

If he thought he got stared at before he was the center of attention
when he walked in Tuesday wearing his new C-cup bra. The secretarial
pool had a field day with him while in the break room. Three of the
bossier ones even insisted on seeing his new boobies. He tried to
protest but he was quickly surrounded and pushed into the nearby lady’s
room. Blushing scarlet as they quickly unbuttoned his blouse and
removed his bra, he was helpless to do anything. He was about to go
into full panic mode when the secretary’s supervisor came in. She
quickly dismissed the other women after chastising them and apologized
to James.

“Look James, I’m very sorry for what happened just now. Please forgive
them. It was just idle girlish curiosity and it’s not like they
haven’t seen breasts before. I hope you will accept my apology and not
file a complaint with management. I’ll make sure disciplinary notices
go into their personnel files.”

He accepted her apology but his ego was greatly impacted by the extreme
humiliation. He fled to his cubicle, shedding silent tears as he tried
to do his job but he couldn’t concentrate. Now there would be no
doubts in the company about him being gay. Even if he could get his
chastity off and change back to being James, no one would believe him.

James couldn’t wait to get out of the office even if it meant getting a
tattoo. He figured she couldn’t do much more to him to totally destroy
his life. She did promise that the tattoo wouldn’t be extreme. He did
use the internet to find a local tattooist who had good reviews and
drove right over from work.

James never understood why anyone would want to permanently disfigure
their body with any kind of tattoo. He figured that such people were
just plain stupid and had no respect for their bodies. Tattoos were
trashy but he had to get one.

“I hope she keeps her word and it won’t be too drastic,” he mused as he
entered the shop.

It was past nine o’clock by the time he left the tattoo parlor. Tears
streaked his face and in shock. The tattoo was brightly colored,
floral in design stretching from hip to hip with a pink heart centered
above a bouquet of multicolored roses in the small of his back. Inside
the heart in black cursive were the words, “I Luv Cock.”

Bertha Lou almost came in her panties when she saw the tattoo. It was
almost the perfect revenge but she still had plans. She reassured him
that she would give him the final number once Bruce had stayed the
night. Seeing him sitting on the edge of his bed crying his eyes out,
she felt sorry for him just a tiny bit.

“Don’t be such a party pooper pet. You can have another tattoo put
over that heart to cover it up once I free you. So dry those tears and
give your Mistress a great big smile and thank you for the lovely
tattoo.”

The rest of his work week went from bad to worse. He couldn’t
concentrate and missed more deadlines. He was depressed and what
little work he accomplished error filled. Towards late afternoon
Friday he was called into the boss’ office. There he received his
termination and three months severance pay.

“Look James I am never happy to let one of my staff go but your work
over the past month doesn’t cut it. I know you are undergoing a major
life change and I really hope everything works out for you but I can’t
let you stay. Get your personal things and….well take care.”

“Take care, how am I suppose to take care with a lousy three month
severance. That woman has made me go through almost all of my savings
buying these stupid clothes, getting these damn tits and other shit.
She’s ruined my life and taken my job to boot. Crap! So much for
TGIF.”

When he got home there was a small package at his door. Opening it he
found a blister pack containing Viagra and a note. “Pet, make sure you
put one of these pills into Bruce’s drink tomorrow and another one in
his coffee Sunday morning. Give me a grand final show and you’ll have
the last number by that afternoon.”

Ooo

Saturday morning was spent cleaning his apartment wearing the required
panties, bra, garter belt, hosiery, heels and apron. He was trembling
and scared about what she demanded he do tonight. His poor anal ring
was already stretched but with Viagra no telling how much abuse it
would take. His titties were completely healed. During his post
surgical visit the Doctor told him he could go out and have all the fun
he wanted with them. Bruce had been abusing his chest leaving hickies
and red tooth marks before so what would he do now. What kept him
going was the knowledge that he would have the final number. Out of
the cage and free to be James again. He would have to move to another
city and find a job but he would be free.

After douching three times and pushing some petroleum jelly up his poor
bottom hole, he took a leisurely bubble bath. He learned to do that
after his second date with Bruce. The jelly helped with the
penetration but not the agonizing pain to his ego. Back in his bedroom
he quickly splashed his pineapple perfume on before putting on his pink
floral embroidered garter belt and black seamed hose. Mistress wanted
him to meet Bruce at the door ready for the bedroom.

Taking his pink baby doll from the closet settled it over his shoulders
then stepped into the ruffled panties. As contrast he had painted his
glamour length nails in that bright red Maraschino polish and applied
the matching lipstick thickly. For some kinky reason Bruce like to see
a lipstick ring around his cock after a good blow job. Another thing
Bruce liked and Mistress insisted he keep doing all the time was for
him to put lipstick on his nipples. As he was stepping into his black
pencil heeled strappy sandals the doorbell rang.

Bruce was standing in the doorway dressed as usual in tight jeans,
white tee, black leather jacket and biker boots holding a bottle of
white wine. After a deep tonsil tickling kiss and squeeze on the butt
James led him into the kitchen. Tonight James decided he would drink
that entire bottle plus what he had left over in the fridge. As Bruce
opened the wine, he poured Bruce’s Jack Daniels and slipped the
powdered Viagra into it.

“After tomorrow I won’t ever have to see you or any of those ******s
again,” he thought handing the glass to Bruce.

James woke up bruised and battered. His ass aflame after being
assaulted three or was it four times last night. He wasn’t sure but he
could feel a sticky wetness on his thighs and his nightie was stuck to
his ass. He cleaned up as best he could without taking a bath and used
some more lubrication. Once he put the Viagra into Bruce’s coffee knew
he would be in for another round or two of having his ass plummeted by
nine thick inches. Bruce didn’t leave until well after noon completely
sated and exhausted. James could barely walk, was totally unsatisfied
and his nipples stung rubbed raw by Bruce’s thick stubble and nipping
teeth. He wanted to rush to his computer and get that final number but
decided to try and get all the filth he felt off his body. Clean but
still feeling dirty and dressed in his lingerie went to the computer.
Half afraid she hadn’t kept her promise, opened the email.

“Pet that was truly the most amazing feat of love making that I have
ever seen. As promised here is the last number (9). You know, I
thought I was punishing you but I was wrong. You were really a closet
gay man. You proved that last night. Mistress.”

“I’ve got it! I finally got it!” he yelled in jubilation.

He minced as fast as he could in the four inch pencil heels to the
bathroom to get his hand mirror. He turned the first small wheel to 4.
Looking at things backwards in a mirror plus the small size of the
wheel made doing that very difficult. Next he dialed in the 5 followed
by the 7 and 9. By the time he had the last number his head was
swimming. Straightening up he reached behind and pulled at the chain.
Nothing happened. The chains gripped his body as tightly as before.

“Shit! Shit! I must have done something wrong. I’ve got to get this
damn thing off. Damn it! As humiliating as this is going to be I’m
going to have to ask Stephen to work the damn combination. It’s just
too difficult to do by myself.”

Unfortunately Stephen wasn’t home but Gerald was. Gerald was a smaller
version of Bruce and had never bought James’ gay persona. When a
deeply embarrassed James asked him to release the lock he sneered, “So
what’s in it for me?”

“Anything you want. I’ll pay you just tell me how much.”

“It aint money I want. I think maybe the only reason you are acting
and dressing like that is because of that cage. I might be tempted to
believe you if you give me a really good blow job.”

“Wha….what…errr….what about Stephen? I thought you two were a couple.
Please just unlock me.”

“Yeah Stephen is my life partner but I don’t trust you. Prove to me
you are as gay as you look and I’ll work the combination. Otherwise go
on home.”

With no alternative James dropped to his knees and undid Gerald’s
jeans. Having to look like he was going to enjoy sucking his cock, he
put a big smile on his face, looked up at him and said, “Well this is
going to be fun.”

James easily swallowed Gerald’s dick. It was only seven inches at best
and not nearly as thick as Bruce. He bent to the task trying to look
eager but at the same time just wanting it over with. He kissed then
licked the circumcised head several times before he began swallowing,
slowly taking it all the way in. With his nose pressed against musky
smelling pubic hairs, James slowly began to pull back, sucking and
slurping all the way. He did his best, had to convince Gerald he
really loved to suck cock. When Gerald finally erupted James held it
in his mouth, looked up opining his mouth sticking out his tongue to
lick his lips then swallowed.

“I guess I was wrong about you. Come on get up and turn around. Holy
shit, why didn’t you show me your tramp stamp? Oh well, thanks for the
blow job anyway. What were the numbers again, 4,5,7 and 9 okay give me
a sec. You sure those numbers are the right ones? Okay, don’t get you
panties in a bunch. Let me try it again. Sorry James no luck this
aint the right combo.”

Ooo

James went as fast as he could back to his apartment. He was furious
that she had cheated him. The taste of Gerald was still strong but he
went straight to his computer. There was an email from Mistress and he
opened it.

“Pet, I guess by now you have discovered that you cannot open the lock.
Oh before you start ranting and raving, the numbers I gave you are
correct just not in the proper sequence. Four numbers might not seem
that hard to figure out but the combination has about the same odds as
winning the lottery. Maybe you’ll get lucky but I wouldn’t count on
it. Remember you didn’t ask for the combination but rather the
numbers. I have given you those. So if you truly want out of that
cage play nice nice or else.”

“However since you no longer have a job and little money, I’m prepared
to make you an offer. This is a one time offer, no second chances.
All you have to do is agree and sign a one year binding contract to be
my live in personal servant. When the contract expires I will pay you
$2,000 and free you from your chastity. I know the money isn’t much
but I will be providing your food, clothing, other personal needs and
housing. Besides being free of your chastity, you have the added
benefit of not having to see Bruce again.”

“I have attached the contract to this email. You will find it quite
detailed and contains significant monetary penalties should you
default. Oh, you will still be in chastity should you breach our
contract. If you are thinking about doing me bodily harm once we meet,
remember I am the ONLY one who knows the correct sequence. You have
until tomorrow noon to decide your fate. Mistress.”

“Crap!” he screamed.

The contract was indeed detailed. He would have to provider her with
personal care while attending to her bath and bedroom, do all the
household chores, prepare and cook all meals and dress according to her
desires. Should he quit or refuse to do as instructed would be fined
$20,000 and dismissed immediately with only the clothing on his person.

“Some fucking contract, I get to do all the shit work while she plays
the princess. I’ve got to see if I can get this damn thing off.”

After two hours trying to move the small combination wheels, he gave up
in frustration. Needing help decided to call Stephen and see if he was
home. He certainly didn’t want to ask Gerald again. Stephen was very
good at math and told James the odds were more like 126 to 1 he could
get the combination. After two hours he had to quit because Gerald was
taking him out and would be back the next afternoon. James only had
until noon and begged him to come back sooner.

“Sorry James but I have a business meeting scheduled for the morning
and then have to attend a luncheon. Maybe you can find someone else to
help. How about getting your boyfriend to try it?”

James reluctantly called Bruce but all he got was voice mail. He tried
again in the morning but still no answer. It was getting close to
eleven and James was running out of time when Bruce called.

“Sorry cup cake had to make a run up to my other gym and I just got
back. So what’s up?”

“Errr…nothing….I errrr…just wanted to ask you something but…but I found
what I needed. I’ll talk to you later. Bye.”

Defeated he went to his computer. There was an email from Mistress.
“Pet, I watched your pathetic attempts to undo your little cage. That
was very amusing but you did a lot of cursing accumulating twelve
demerits. You still have a choice to make and not much time. If you
decide to accept my terms, you will be at my lawyer’s office by noon
today. There you will sign the contract then it will be notarized and
filed with the clerk of court all nice and completely legal. Remember
I’m the only one who knows the combination and let’s just say I have an
amazing number of videos and pictures. My lawyer has a copy of all of
them. Can you guess what happens if I die or seriously hurt?
Mistress.”

“Videos, photos, oh shit I forgot all about those,” James thought as he
slammed his hands down hard on the desk top then scribbled the name and
address of the lawyer. He only had thirty minutes to get there, so
grabbed his purse and headed out the door. His fate soon to be signed,
sealed and delivered.

Ooo

He walked into the lawyer’s office with a few minutes to spare. He
noticed a woman almost filling the couch she was sitting on in the
waiting area. The secretary sitting behind the desk took his name and
told him to please take a seat and the lawyer would call him in
shortly.

“What a pig, I’m in a living hell but at least I’m not some ugly fat
cow,” James thought as he sat as far away from the woman as he could.

Picking up a magazine and flipping through it didn’t notice the woman
smiling triumphantly at him. It wasn’t until the secretary announced
that the lawyer would see them now that he understood who the fat pig
was.

“You,” was all he could say.

“Yes Pet, now come along the lawyer is waiting,” she replied turning
sideways to get through the open door.

“Shit, she’s as big as a friggin house. Why is she doing this to me?
I don’t even know her,” he thought then had to ask, “Why? I don’t even
know you. What have I ever done to you to deserve all this?”

“Oh Pet, sure you know me. Why we even had a date once. Don’t you
remember your ballerina partner, Bertha Lou?”

“Shit!”

“That’s another demerit Pet. I’m going to have to figure out a real
proper punishment for thirteen demerits. Now come along or leave. You
still have a choice,” she said with a sly smile. “Of course you will
follow like a puppy. You want that chastity off soooo bad. You can
forget that you don’t have the right numbers and with that small lock
in the small of your back. I doubt you will ever figure out the
correct combination especially when you keep entering the wrong ones,”
she thought as her smile broadened.

Ashen faced and shaking like a leaf, James left the lawyer’s office.
He had two days to either sell or donate all his male things and
furnishings before he had to be at Bertha Lou’s house. Lucky for him
he was on a month to month lease and could get out of his apartment.
Of course Stephen and Gerald noticed him getting rid of all his stuff
and had to ask why. James wasn’t about to tell the truth but simply
said he had a job in another state.

“Like I want to associate with you fags or tell you how much more
degrading my life has become,” he thought.

Ooo

At the appointed hour James showed up at Bertha Lou’s house. He was
unimpressed with the house but knew the land had to be worth a fortune.
As instructed he was wearing skin tight neon green stretch pants, a
bright pink halter collared midriff blouse and two inch stacked heeled
red pumps. Glittering in the sun light from his exposed belly button
was a small Tinkerbelle. He had gotten the belly piercing yesterday in
order to remove the thirteen demerits. There were several bikers in
the waiting room as he asked for the piercing and they laughed, pointed
their fingers and made crude remarks as he came back out. James felt
very lucky to have gotten out of the tattoo/piercing parlor with his
life.

Gotten this far he sighed heavily and knocked on the door. Bertha Lou
answered it wearing a blue scrub suit and a pair of pink fuzzy
slippers. She had a grin as big as any Chestshire cat’s.

“Pet it’s good to see you made it on time. Come in and I’ll show you
your room for the next year. It’s down stairs in the basement, not
much but comfy.”

It definitely wasn’t much as the only furnishings were a lumpy twin
bed, side table with lamp and alarm clock, a dresser with mirror and a
straight back wooden chair. Sitting on a corner of the dresser was an
ancient nineteen inch black and white television. The bathroom wasn’t
much better containing only a shower stall, commode and sink area.

“Get your stuff put away and meet me in the kitchen as soon as you
can,” she said as she left.

James tried to stall but having only two suitcases and several garment
bags didn’t have that much to put away. Reluctantly he headed up the
stairway and into the kitchen. Bertha Lou was at the table drinking
coffee and eating what remained of a dozen donuts. She pointed to the
chair opposite and he sat.

“Pet you took long enough. When I say ‘as soon as you can’ that
usually means immediately. Now I work nights with Monday’s off from
eleven to seven in the morning. I sleep from eight until three so
you’ll have to be quite. Promptly at three you will wake me with a
kiss to the lips and serve me a cup of coffee. While I have my coffee,
you will prepare my bath. I expect you to attend me the entire time
then help me get dressed before you prepare my breakfast. Until you
get use to your daily routine, I’ll give you a list of what I expect to
be done from then on. Right now the first thing you are going to do is
hook up all those cameras and microphones so I will be able to monitor
you when I’m not here. By the way I really like that little
Tinkerbelle. I’m just sorry I didn’t think of doing that sooner.”

“Please Berth…”

“That’s Mistress to you! That failure just earned you another
demerit.”

“Errr…sorry Mistress…but..you said you would provide me clothing and I
was wondering if I could get some new..”

“Yes I know what’s in the contract and we’ll get you some new clothing
on Monday. Until then you will keep wearing your darling Capri’s and
stretch pants with a cute blouse. As far as you’re concerned nothing
has changed. You will continue with all the tasks I have set for you
all the time. I know you have a shower in your bathroom but it’s been
disabled. Once you have fixed my breakfast then you will take a bath
in my left over bath water. I believe you have work to do. Get it
done and report back to me when it’s finished.”

It only took James a couple of hours to hook up and connect all the
cameras and microphones to her computer. He spent what was by then
early evening cleaning the kitchen area. For that she had put him in a
white organza pinafore styled apron with pink rose buds embroidered on
the bib and pink rubber gloves. A pink chiffon scarf was wrapped
bandana style around his head. He mopped and waxed the linoleum
kitchen floor, polished the table and chairs, cleaned the counter tops
and wiped the sinks by nine p.m. then had to prepare her meal. As she
ate her steak and large baked potato, James nibbled at his large salad
with half a boiled egg.

When he had washed the dishes and wiped down the kitchen it was time
for him to prepare her evening bath. For that task she had him strip
down to his lingerie retaining the scarf, hose and heels. Kneeling in
front of her as he pulled her scrub bottoms off, he wanted to be sick.
A strong aroma of musk, urine and sourness hit him like a slap in the
face as he pulled down her gray nylon full cut briefs.

“Pet while you are down there give it a kiss and a lick. I’ve heard
about that from some of my girlfriends but never experienced it. Go on
I still have a lot to do before I go to work,” she said grabbing his
head and pushing his face into her stinking crotch.

She couldn’t see his head under the blubber of her stomach but she
could feel his tongue. “Oh my,” she gushed as she pushed his head
harder, “I could really get to like this. Get that tongue in there and
suck my clit.”

It wasn’t long before she had her very first climax. She was
shuddering so hard from the wonderful sensations running up and down
her spine she squirted some pee. James’ head was still pressed into
her crotch and couldn’t back away. He was forced to swallow her
offering before she released her grip. Between the stench, taste and
the pee James leaped for the commode. As he leaned heavily into the
bowl, ashen faced and weak she was laughing heartily.

“Guess you didn’t find it as enjoyable as I did pet but you’re going to
have to get use to doing that. I had too much fun and can’t wait to
brag to the girls. Get cleaned up I need to get into the bathtub.”

“Now while I’m at work you will vacuum the entire house, mop and wax
the wooden floors. You will do this every night while I’m out so I
won’t have to put up with the noise. Once you have done that make my
bed then you can take a bath in my tub. I’ll be watching so don’t even
think about filling it with fresh water,” she instructed as she walked
out the door.

Ooo

He was awakened out of a deep exhausted slumber by a sharp painful slap
to his butt. Bertha Lou was standing over him looking very pissed.
“Why are you still in bed? You were supposed to meet me when I came
home. Get your lazy ass out of bed and follow me upstairs. I need you
to message my feet. Your laziness just cost you three demerits.”

James moaned as he slid his feet into the pencil heels. They hurt his
feet and ankles but he followed pulling his chocolate negligee on as he
went. “I’m sorry Mistress but you didn’t tell me to greet you when you
came home.”

“You’re my personal attendant. I shouldn’t have to tell you to do
obvious tasks.”

She sat heavily on the living room couch as James knelt down and
removed her shoes. The odor that emanated from her feet was strong and
he grimaced as he took one into his hands. She knew her feet stank
after wearing the hot shoes all night and enjoyed seeing the look on
his face. After thirty minutes she told him to stop and since he did
such a good job could kiss each of her toes as a sign of appreciation.

Grunting with the effort she raised her butt off the sofa and let out a
smelly fart that made her giggle. Pushing down her scrubs along with
her dingy looking gray nylon granny panties, settled back and spread
her legs.

“You know what to do now, so get that tongue working.”

Satisfied, she slowly got up and went to her bedroom. “Hand wash my
lingerie and scrubs. Hang them on the outside line to dry then dust
the house and wax the furniture. You better remember to wake me at
three with a kiss and my coffee. Keep it quite.”

There must have been two weeks worth of dirty laundry when he emptied
the two hampers. Holding up a pair of the largest panties he had ever
seen groaned. As per his routine he was only wearing lingerie and an
apron with his heels. Bringing the wash outside to hang he was happy
that no one would see him through the woods surrounding the house. At
lunch he decided to sneak one of her chocolate candy bars. That later
proved to be a big mistake when she counted them and found one missing.
She scolded him for not sticking to his diet and added three more
demerits. One more and he would have ten.

With her coffee in hand he went to wake her up. Placing the coffee on
her bedside table, leaned over and kissed her on the lips before
stepping back. She opened her eyes and glared at him.

“When I said my lips I didn’t mean the ones on my mouth idiot. That’s
ten demerits for daring to actually kiss me. You forget I know where
those lips have been and what they swallowed. Like I’d ever let a cock
sucker kiss me! Now put them where they belong and you better be
good.”

She didn’t smell any better in the morning than she did last night. It
took all his concentration not to toss his cookies as he licked and
slurped her pussy. Satisfied she rolled over on her stomach and told
him to lick and kiss her ass until she told him to stop.

“Yeah, lick and kiss my fat ass ******. Make sure you get in deep
between my cheeks. You ever presume to kiss me again I’ll use your
face as a toilet.”

As soon as she told him to stop, he jumped off the bed and rushed into
the bathroom. “While you’re in there might as well prepare my bath,”
she said laughing.

Sitting up she picked up her coffee and took a sip. “I think another
trip to the tattoo parlor is in order. A floral arrangement of
pineapples connected by half peeled bananas around his ankle would look
nice.”

James didn’t even try to hide what he felt about getting another tattoo
which delighted Bertha Lou. “You don’t seem very happy about getting
another tattoo pet and I’m certainly not going to make you get it. You
have free will and a choice. Why don’t you put on that cute pink
pants suit if you decide you really want that tattoo? I’d really love
to see how it turns out.”

The tattooist wasn’t happy to see that gay guy coming back but money
was money. The last time he came in a riot almost broke out in his
shop and luckily he was able to stop it. When he heard what James
wanted, snickered and agreed to do it. He did very good work except it
wasn’t exactly what James asked for. Yes there was a chain of
pineapples connect by bananas but the pineapples were a bright pink
about an inch high. A boarder of brightly colored tropical flowers was
added above and below in a lattice design. When finished the tattoo
was three inches wide.

Ooo

Monday true to her word took him out to purchase some new clothing. It
just wasn’t the clothing he wanted. She took him to a uniform shop
where she bought four maid’s uniforms. They were simple cotton above
the knee A-line styles in black, gray, suntan and navy all with white
cuffs and lapels. Matching nursing style caps and aprons came with
each dress. Stopping at a shoe store added two pairs of four inch
pencil heeled pumps. He received a demerit for complaining. The final
stop was a vintage clothing store where she found twelve stiff net
crinolines with nylon yokes. Three pairs each in red, white, yellow
and blue to fluff out his uniform skirts.

Back at the house she had him change into the suntan uniform, three of
the yellow crinolines and his new yellow pumps. As he did the cleaning
the petticoats swished about his legs and discovered quickly that he
had to watch his skirts. Mincing past an end table the flaring skirt
knocked over a ceramic figurine.

For his clumsiness and lack of feminine grace he received another five
demerits plus two hours of mannerisms lessons. He was shown how to
brush his skirts back under before sitting and told to keep his knees
together when sitting. Finally, and most importantly shown how to
curtsey. When she left for work instructed him to keep practicing for
another hour.

Other than having to give Bertha Lou oral pleasure James wasn’t treated
horribly. He was allowed plenty of private time to do as he wished.
If having to read several gay orientated magazines and romance novels
doing what he wished. The only other restriction was that if he went
out, had to wear his feminine attire. He preferred staying in the
house but Bertha Lou often took him out in the late afternoons to the
grocery, d**g store etc. He hated those trips because those stops
meant going out in uniform. With his brassy blond hair and only
wearing lipstick there was absolutely no way anybody could ever mistake
him as a woman.

Ooo

About six months into his servitude a new patient was admitted to the
nursing home. He was an elderly but fit sixty-************** man with
arthritic knees. He was stoutly built with a white fringe of hair,
wore black horn rimmed thick glasses. He had no living relatives and
needed someone to help him get around though he managed using a walker.
He was placed in a room in Bertha Lou’s wing. He was an early riser
and spent the pre-dawn time visiting with Bertha Lou. It didn’t take
her long to find out that Mister Joseph Ames was a homosexual. The
fact that he was gay started to give her an idea. The more they talked
the more she discovered how unhappy he was with the nursing home.
After he had been a resident for about a month, Bertha Lou made a
suggestion.

“Mr. Ames, I know you hate the food and disappointed that there are no
other gay men here. What you really need is an Assisted Living
Residence. Didn’t you check any of those places out? Didn’t know
about them? Well I have a spare bedroom at my place and a wonderful
gay young man who cooks and cleans the place for me. He’s one of those
girly-girl types though. You know likes to wear women’s clothing and
act feminine. If you like that type and are forceful you could enjoy
his talents. Besides, I could take you in for half of what you’re
paying for this place. What do you think?”

Two weeks later a cab arrived at Bertha Lou’s house. She had taken the
day off so she could welcome him. All she had told James was that she
had rented out the spare room and to get it ready. He was also
informed that he would do anything that Mr. Joe said as if it came from
her. Any trouble and he would be tossed out. James knew he was in
trouble when Mr. Joe slapped him on the ass. He complained bitterly
one afternoon about Bertha Lou promising that he wouldn’t have to
engage in homosexual acts.

“Pet I didn’t lie to you about that. What I promised was that you
wouldn’t have to see your old boyfriend Bruce again. I have kept that
promise and you have earned another demerit. I believe that makes a
total of twenty for the week. Wow, that’s the most ever isn’t it?
What? Now don’t go blaming Mr. Joe for your failures. I’ll tell you
what, if you can keep your demerits to fewer than 100 by the time your
contract is up, I won’t punish you. However, should you fail, you will
agree to go to that tattooist and have your penis and balls tattooed a
brilliant pink with little white hearts.”

For the next five and a half months Bertha Lou enjoyed watching James
performing one degrading act after another. She also took full
advantage of his ever increasing tongue talent. Mr. Joe was quite
vigorous and very demanding. She also made sure he had plenty of
Viagra. One day Mr. Joe threatened to tell Bertha Lou that James had
stuck him which would result in him being kicked out. James couldn’t
afford that, he was too close to getting his chastity removed.
Reluctantly he agreed to get dentures. James was a mess for two weeks
after that procedure was performed. Later another debasing act was
forced upon him. Mr. Joe began stretching out James’ boy pussy using
larger and larger butt plugs. It seems like Mr. Joe enjoys fisting
almost as much as he likes getting blow jobs.

In addition Mr. Joe had James take him into the city. Sitting for
hours in the park or on a bench at the zoo they would be seen kissing
and smooching. James often could be found sitting in Mr. Joe’s lap
with his arms around his neck with their heads touching. James had a
constant blush on his face during those outings. It would be
humiliating doing that with another man but mortifying when doing it
with a man who could be his grandfather.

As much as James would love to take a baseball bat to Mr. Joe’s bald
head didn’t dare for two reasons. The first was to get that chastity
belt off and the other was to keep his demerits under 100. Getting his
dick and balls tattooed would be very humiliating and guessed very very
painful.

He wasn’t sure how many demerits he had going into the last day of his
contract. He thought he had done everything demanded of him and more
but today he would be freed. Today he was wearing a relatively new
uniform. Mr. Joe had asked Bertha Lou to get him new ones a month ago.
These uniforms were semi-sheer nylon in white, pink, lime green and
yellow. His lacy camisoles and slips could easily be seen through the
thin material. Today he was wearing the pink one with his black
lingerie on orders from Mistress. He didn’t mind as he would change
into a pants suit before leaving this horrible place forever.

“Well today is the day you get your chastity off and a day of
reckoning. First the demerits, based upon my calculations you have
earned a total of 109 demerits. So before I remove that device we will
go to the tattoo shop and have your privates taken care of. Once that
is done you are free to do whatever you want. I will give you your
$2,000 there and will never hear from me again. No, we will go just as
you’re dressed now. I didn’t promise to give you any of the clothing.”

Seeing him about to protest, held up her hand. “I don’t know what you
have decided to do once you are free but I have a proposition for you
to consider. Mr. Joe is very smitten with you and would like to marry
you. Hush! Don’t say anything until you hear me out. He’s old, very
rich and still has his home. If you agree to marry him you two will
move back into his place. Other than keeping him happy, like you have
been, you would be free to do whatever you wanted. Additionally,
should your husband die from anything other than natural causes those
photos get released. If you do marry then I won’t force you to get
your privates decorated. I’ll give you five minutes to decide.”

“This is some choice. The lady or the tiger choices would be easier to
make than this one. I think I would be happier if I chose the tiger at
least my problems would be solved quickly. He’s a mangy old goat with
too many hands and way too eager for a man his age. I don’t think he
can keep that up much longer and I would inherit his wealth. So what
do I have if I decide to get my privates tattooed? A heck of a lot of
pain, embarrassment plus two thousand with no job, no home and no
clothing. Definitely will never have a girlfriend, not with these
tattoos I already have or these tits.

“Your five minutes are up. Have you made a decision?”

Ooo

Gay marriages were recognized and they were married in a simple civil
ceremony. For the occasion James wore a white pants suit with silver
cowl neck silk blouse. He was still in chastity to make sure he went
through with the ceremony. There was one change that he was forced to
endure. Since he wasn’t going to get his groin tattooed, Bertha Lou
insisted that he get a new hair style. Doris had laughed her ass off
when he told her what he wanted.

“As soon as she sets me free I’m getting my hair buzz cut and dyed
black. I must be the only guy in the world who has a poodle cut dyed
neon pink.”

He shuddered as Mr. Joe kissed him full on the lips finalizing the
wedding. True to her word, Bertha Lou freed him from the chastity
device and gave him his $2,000. He would also be allowed to take all
his clothing and personal items when his husband moved back into their
home. Of course she waited until Mr. Joe had consummated the marriage.
That next morning he was in the bathroom naked as Bertha Lou turned the
little wheels, 6,9,6 and 9. The lock opened and the chastity fell to
the tiled floor with a bang.

“I’ve kept my word. You’re free but I will be checking up to make sure
you’re a happily married couple. Don’t want all those pictures and
videos to go viral,” she said walking out of the room.

Alone at last and for the first time in almost two years reached down
to touch his pride and joy. What he discovered made him scream out in
horror. His once eight inch member didn’t even fill the palm of his
hand, didn’t respond no matter how much he jerked and worse his scrotum
didn’t have any balls. Even a hooker wouldn’t come near him now.

Completely defeated and no longer a real man, James drove Mr. Joe to
their new home. There he got another horrible surprise. It wasn’t a
mansion. It was a run down frame house in an old and declining
neighborhood. Mr. Joe wasn’t rich by any means living on Social
Security. Once inside the neglected home, James emailed Bertha Lou
demanding to know why she had told him that his husband was rich.

“Pet I didn’t lie. Mr. Joe is a wonderful old man and rich in
experience. He has already shown you a lot about gay sex and I’m sure
he can teach you so much more. However I have a proposal for you.
Since you can’t expect to live on just a stipend, I will hire you at
minimum wage to clean and cook for me. Should you want, I will double
the wage if you wake me with a kiss. I’ll give you until tomorrow to
decide. If you choose otherwise, then per our agreement never contact
me again. Mistress P.S. That’s one demerit for using my real name.”

The End






How Did This Happen

By Cheryl Lynn

This is a first person account of a young man who is forced to become a
woman by his step aunt. It is more about his strict training and mental
adaptation than a description of his clothing and other characters
involved. There is no sex but very humiliating and I have left the
ending up to your imagination. There is diaper play but it only sets the
stage for the rest of his development. All the usual disclaimers apply
and may be downloaded for personal use only. Any other use is strictly
prohibited unless approved by the author. Comments are welcome at
cheryl2lynn@yahoo.com.



How Did This Happen

I sat looking into the vanity's mirrors. Reflected back was the face of
a pretty but not beautiful girl. Long strawberry blond hair piled up in
curls held in place by a white feathered band. Pillow soft strawberry
colored lips. The nose a bit too big but not that detracting, arched
brows, smoky eyelids and large golden hoop pierced earlobes stared back
at me.

What the mirrors didn't show was my attire. I was wearing a white
crystal beaded square necked leotard with spaghetti straps with powder
pink tights. Around the waist flared a stiff pink and lavender tutu and
white satin en pointe ballerina slippers on my feet. On each wrist was a
wide white feathered band. Under the leotard I had on a very tight white
panty girdle with a satin diamond panel embroidered with silver thread in
a delicate floral pattern and white push up gel filled C-cup strapless
bra. It was a costume appropriate for my ballet recital. What really
made it a costume though was the fact that the person wearing it was me.
I'm all boy, at least that's what I was before Stephanie came into my
life.

Stephanie was my step aunt. My father married my step mother when I was
f******n and Stephanie was her older sister. I had just turned sixteen
when they were killed in a horrific traffic accident. Stephanie was the
nearest living relative and as such took control of my family's estate
and me. Unlike my loving step mother she was cold and demanding. She
never married preferring the company of other women. She was pretty but
inside her heart was ugly and cruel.

From the moment she took control my life, as I knew it, was over. First
she fired the maid, Millie, and cook, Dana. Our chauffeur had died with
my parents. Millie and Dana had been more like family than servant but
despite my pleas were let go. In their place she hired a very pretty but
obnoxious maid, Delilah and Bertha. Delilah was of Italian descent with
blue-black raven hair and smooth olive complexion. Her hearth shaped
face was always immaculately made up and wore stylish clothing when not
in uniform. Bertha, the new cook, can best be described as a woman right
out of Wager's operas, big, blond and very German. Her round double
chinned face never had makeup and when not in her uniform wore man styled
slacks and shirts.

She pulled me out of school and hired a nanny to home school me. Her
name was Madam Simms. In my mind she wasn't a woman but the devil
incarnate. She was a very sever looking woman. She was six foot tall in
three inch block heels, more big boned than fat and despite her size very
quick on her feet. Her salt and pepper hair was always styled in a tight
bun on the back of her head. She wore little makeup usually just a slash
of red across her narrow lips and dressed mostly in black ankle length
dresses. It was into her hands that Stephanie thrust me two weeks after
she took over.

During those first weeks, Stephanie had workers come in and do some
remodeling. I call it a house but it was really a mansion with ten
bedrooms set on a large isolated lot. Besides the house and garage there
is a large swimming pool and cabana. Workers came once a week to tend
the pool and grounds. It was a great house but being so isolated none of
my friends lived nearby but I had just gotten my driver's license so that
wouldn't be a problem much longer.

To answer the question of how did this happen, I need to start telling my
tale from when Stephanie took control and pulled me from school. Like I
said Delilah was hot but it took me about two seconds to realize she
didn't like me. I tried to act cool when I was around her but she turned
up her pert nose and ignored me.

Stephanie was in the process of making her changes when she called me
into her office. Up until then I did my best to avoid her. It had been
my dad's but only the furniture remained. All his personal items and
masculine nick knacks were gone. She had even replaced the original
America's Cup oil painting by James Buttersworth. In its place was some
old classical styled oil of two half naked women embracing.

"Dale I have decided to remove you from school as of this Friday and
hired someone to teach you here at the house. Her name is Madam Simms
and you will do your studies under her guidance. She will be moving in
next week and you will meet her then. She has my orders to see to your
day to day affairs. You are dismissed," was her terse statement as I
stood before her desk.

"Stephanie I don't want to quit school. All my friends are there and I
like the courses. You can't do this to me," I answered angrily.

"Dale I'm in charge of this household and you. I am the adult and you
are the c***d. You will call me Ms. McAdams and not by my first name.
As far as school, I can and I have. Now leave." She didn't scream but
said it in the cold tone of authority.

On my last day at school during PE I played a couple of sets of tennis.
I was pissed that Stephanie pulled me out of classes and took it out on
my opponent. We played hard and both of us were sweat soaked by the end.
Since it was my last class and my last day I didn't bother to shower.
Upon entering the kitchen I saw Stephanie and Delilah.

Delilah took one look at me and sniffing the air said to Stephanie,
"Puppy dog, he smells like a wet dog. Shall I take care of it Madam?"

To my surprise she grabbed me by my earlobe and began pulling me up
stairs. I should tell you that I'm not that big or strong. I'm short
and thin for my age with shoulder length brown hair and blue eyes. I
looked more like a f******n year old and that's probably why I copped an
attitude at school. My parents got more letters from my headmaster than
most of my buddies regarding my misdeeds.

Delilah was a head taller and surprisingly strong. I protested the
treatment but that only made her pinch my earlobe all the harder. Man
that really hurt. She pulled me straight into my in-suite bathroom and
started filling the tub. I just stood there like a lamp post rubbing my
throbbing ear. Like I said, I did smell and my shirt was deeply stained
with sweat so I wasn't upset about getting cleaned up only taking a bath
bothered me. I couldn't remember the last time I had taken a bath. In
my mind only babies and girls took baths.

I was standing there rubbing my sore ear when she told me to strip.
"What the fuck?" I thought hearing that. She obviously didn't mean for
me to get naked with her still there. How wrong that thought was as she
came over and began pulling my shirt over my head. Free of the shirt I
tried to move back but she grabbed the waist band of my shorts and pulled
me in.

I opened my mouth to tell her to fuck off when she did something that I
had never experienced before. She slapped my face hard bringing instant
tears. The side of my face was flaming and my mind frozen in shock. I
had been in fights at school but usually I was the instigator and
expected to be hit back. I'd never been slapped before so this shocked
and caught me off guard. If it had been some guy I would have lashed
back but this was a girl, no a woman. As I stood trying to get control
over my tears, she undid my tennis shorts and in one motion pulled my
shorts and boxers to my ankles. Immediately my hands plunged down to
cover my parts. Her smile was more of a smirk as I did that and she took
my clothing from around my feet. The next two hours, yes, I said two
hours, were the most embarrassing I had ever experienced. Leaving me
standing naked she left but returned shortly with one of those small hard
shelled pink carrying cases. From the case she removed a number of
bottles and a pair of latex gloves.

As I watched her wide eyed, she looked at me holding up a wooden
hairbrush and said, "By the time I'm through cleaning you up, you will
smell nice and sweet. Give me any trouble and I will punish you."

From the tone of her voice, the look in her eyes and from the way she
already ********** me the only thing I could do was nod my head. Putting
a white plastic bibbed apron and the gloves on, she grabbed a large pink
jar and began rubbing the contents all over my body. She applied a thick
coating everywhere except my upper face and head. She had covered my
hair in a pink plastic shower cap. In no time it began to burn and stink
making me hop from one foot to the other asking her for relief. All she
did was smirk and tell me to stop complaining. After what seemed like an
hour she shoved me into the shower and turned on the cold water. Believe
me when I say that cold spray felt wonderful at first but quickly became
very uncomfortable shrinking my male parts and turning my lips blue. It
wasn't until she told me to shut the water off and get out that I noticed
all my body hair was gone. I was a naked as a new born baby and if I
wasn't so cold would have blushed.

From the shower I was ushered into the bath which now was a mass of
multi-colored bubbles and the aroma of flowers overwhelming. She
actually bathed me like I was a helpless baby. When she had me stand and
began cleaning my genitals I thought I was going to die from
embarrassment. Normally I could get a hard on instantaneously just
looking at a pretty girl but this time I was too mortified. It didn't
help my pride or ability to get erect when she wondered why I was making
a big fuss with such a baby dick and balls. I almost jumped out of the
bathtub when she stuck the washcloth into my asshole. By the time the
bath was finished I was totally mortified and my male ego severely
bruised.

My experiences in the bathroom didn't end with the bath. After patting
me dry she covered my body in a very fragrant body lotion and with a
large powder puff dusted me with an equally aromatic talc. With my body
dusted I was pushed over the sink where she shampooed and conditioned my
hair. Not once but three times. With my hair still quite damp, she had
me sit on the edge of the tub with my feet in it and wrapped the towel
around my shoulders. She parted it down the middle and across the
forehead then began trimming it. When she had finished my hair was in a
shoulder length bob with feathered bangs. Using a round bristle brush
and blow dryer she gave it a big poofed out look with the ends turned
under. Using a lot of hairspray it was set in a very stiff, shiny do and
the smell of varnish heavy in the air. Way too feminine for any real
boy. Finished with my hair she tucked a bath towel around my chest and
told me to go get dressed and not mess with my hair. When I saw what she
had done to it in my dresser mirror, I wanted to rush back into the
bathroom and stick my head under the shower. She was still there so all
I could do was get dressed, so much for my first up close and personal
encounter with Delilah.

I actually didn't meet Bertha for several weeks after she was brought on
board but I immediately became familiar with her cooking. I'm on the
skinny side but all I got to eat was vegan and a bunch of heath
supplements to swallow down with the bitter tea I was served. By the
time Bertha changed my diet to the complete opposite but with very little
red meat, I looked anorexic. With the lack of real protein and being
banned from the basement workout room, my muscle loss was apparent.

I just wish I could avoid Delilah like I could Stephanie. Looking back
on it I guess it was Stephanie doing the avoiding. Anyway Delilah made
it her business to give me my morning and evening toilet. She made sure
I took a bath using lots of bath beads and fragrant floral oils twice a
day. I was spared some embarrassment as she let me wash myself but she
applied that foul smelling lotion that burned once every day. I later
learned that it was a strong depilatory that in time made my body hair
loss permanent. My hair was shampooed and conditioned every third day.
She made me brush it out into that big hair look that I hated. At night
she would make me roll the ends in large bristle rollers. I used smaller
ones to roll my bangs.

That first night was probably the worse as I stared into my dresser
mirror. My reflection wasn't all me. It was like a girl me if you know
what I mean. I had on a blue night mask that covered my face except for
the eyes and lips, large pink rollers decorated my neck, smaller ones
went across my forehead and a neon blue hair net held it all in place. I
also had white gloves on. Under those was a pair of plastic ones to keep
the lotion covering my hands from seeping through. Apparently Delilah
didn't approve of the calluses and rough skin. I lost some more of my
masculinity that night.

Other than Delilah's daily visits and meal time I was left to myself
during that weekend. I wanted to go out and play ball or just hang with
my friends but with that big sissy hair didn't dare. I tried hiding it
under a ball cap but that failed miserably. I thought briefly about just
sticking my head under the shower but had been told in no uncertain terms
what would happen if I messed it up. As a result I stayed at the house
mostly in my room looking at porn or chatting with my friends. Of course
they wanted to know why I was pulled from classes. All I could say was
that she made me and I had no choice. I didn't have a car yet. My
parents were going to give me one when I turned eighteen in a few more
months so I was completely isolated. Like Stephanie would drive me to
see my friends anyway.

Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you that I did put up a fight if you could call
it that. That very first night after she had given me my first bath
Delilah came into my room without knocking I might add. When she said it
was time for my bath, I refused. I was standing, just having put down my
lap top, when she entered. She couldn't surprise me with that ear grab
plus I could block a slap now that I knew her tactics and she was a girl
after all. I didn't know she knew martial arts. She quickly had me in
tears and very compliant. Being defeated by a mere girl only slightly
bigger than you is not conducive to boosting one's ego.

Stephanie's aloofness and Delilah's treatment were nothing compared to
Madam Simms. She scared the hell out of me the first time we met. Like
I said she was a big severe looking woman and as she examined me I felt
like a bug under a microscope. I had been called into Stephanie's office
to meet her the day she arrived. I wasn't all that confident with that
big hair style and when I looked into her eyes shriveled up inside.

As soon as her eyes fell on me she snapped, "Stand up straight with your
arms at your sides, feet together and chest out. Now pull your left leg
back a bit, take your thumb and forefinger to grasp the sides of your
slacks then bend your right knee keeping your back straight and chin
tilted down."

I was so intimidated by her that I did what she said without any real
thought. I know I must have looked like an idiot as I awkwardly
complied. All she said was "Dismal but that will be remedied. Now stand
there and be quite," turning her attention back to Stephanie. They
talked for a few minutes as if I weren't even in the room before they
turned their attention back to me.

"This is Madam Simms and your new nanny. I have given her complete
authority to do anything she deems appropriate. I have given her
permission to punish misbehavior anyway she desires to correct that
behavior. Understood?" Stephanie stated.

I could only nod my head in response. I was too frightened hearing the
words "nanny" and "punish." I didn't understand the part about her being
my nanny as I was much too old for a nanny but I did understand the
punish part. Looking at Madam Simms I guessed that the tortures of the
Spanish Inquisition would have been a preferable alternative. Over time
I learned that alternative was indeed preferable.

"I'm glad you understand your position in this household Dale. Madam
Simms, I guess you need to unpack before you begin his instruction?"

"No I think it best if I e***** Dale to his room now. I see that I have
much work to do. Give your aunt a curtsey c***d," she replied putting
her big hand on my neck giving me a downward shove.

Leaving the office she surprised me yet again by telling me to walk ahead
of her. Have you any idea how disconcerting it is to have someone
walking right behind you muttering over and over, "Oh that will never
do?" It gave me the creeps and this woman was scary enough as it was.
Arriving at my room I found the door both closed and locked. I never
locked my door. My confusion was answered as she grabbed me by the back
to the neck and steered me further down the corridor to the second room
from the end. It was one of the rooms Stephanie had remodeled of the
three at this end of the corridor. Madam Simms removed a key and opened
the door pushing me through as the door swung wide.

I stood stunned as I looked about the room. It was a girls room and not
only that but a very ***********s room. The walls were painted powder
pink covered with cartoon decals of Disney princesses and cute a****ls.
A very thick lavender rug covered the floor. In one corner was a large
Victorian white and blue painted doll house with several dolls placed
nearby and a hope chest. Not far from the doll house was a pink rocking
horse and next to it was a white with pink rose bush imprinted play pen
with a pink pad filled with stuffed a****ls and foam blocks. On the
other side of the room was a twin sized bed but it was a white enameled
with pink rose bush design crib. It had thin metal rails and a mesh
steel top that locked in place to keep me from getting out. Over the
crib whirled a mobile with multi-colored butterflies.

Across from the bed's footboard was a pink padded changing table with
eight drawers. Next to the bed was a night stand and princess lamp. A
small table with straight back chair had a pink lap top computer and CD
player sitting on it. The large walk-in closet seemed to be bulging with
*********** dresses. A large dresser and small vanity again with that
same rose bush design completed the furnishings. There were no windows
as this was an inside room and it reeked of flowers. My eyes still
traveling around that horrible room I took a step back then another
before I felt two large hands tightly grip my shoulders. As she turned
me to face her, I saw her sneering smile.

"There's no time like the present to begin your instruction. Yes, this
is your new room. From now on until you can prove to me that you are
both willing and compliant to my wishes it will be all you know. As you
may have guessed from the furnishings and decoration the person that
lives in this room is a very ***********. You are now that ***********
and will answer to the name of Darla Jean. The sooner you learn that you
are Darla Jean and behave like a *********** you can move out of here and
into a much older girl's room. If you don't do everything I say and do
it happily you may be stuck here for a very long time. How long you stay
as a diapered *********** is strictly up to you. Understand Darla Jean?
Now let's get you dressed appropriately," she said pulling my shirt over
my head as she pushed me toward the changing table.

"Diapers! ***********! Darla Jean! Stuck in this icky room! No, this
is too outrageous and I'm not going to stand for this. I'm a grown man,"
my mind screamed.

Even with my arms entangled in the shirt my head still covered, I began
to resist as much as I possibly could. I was picked up by very strong
arms and laid across the changing table. With one hand pressing down on
my back I heard a draw open and then only pain. She paddled my poor
bottom for what seemed like hours before she let me fall to the carpeted
floor. I lay curled up on the floor crying as she moved about the room.
When my tears became sniffles she pulled me to my feet and quickly
removed my slacks, boxers and the shirt off my arms. She effortlessly
lifted me onto the changing table and fastened a restraining belt over my
chest pinning my arms in the process.

"That should keep you under control as I prepare you for your first
diapering. Before I do that we have to do something about that little
deformity between your legs," she stated.

What she did next destroyed what manhood I had left. It was a male
chastity device that kept my penis very shrunken and pointing down. My
poor balls were stuffed back up inside the body cavity they descended
from which caused new tears and a nauseous feeling. Putting everything
to shame used during the Inquisition this device had adjustable sharp
pointed teeth built in.

She would replace those barbs with new longer and sharper ones as time
passed. If the tiniest erection tried to form, it proved most painful
and occasionally brought little pricks of blood. I could pee with it on
but would have to sit to do so. I can't tell you how many times I tried
to get that damn thing off but every attempt resulted in painful failure.
Without the key the only way to remove it was to cut my penis off which
wasn't an option as far as I was concerned. Over time and much pain all
I had left showing between my legs was a small none functioning penis and
empty shriveled sack.

Compared to the chastity device being diapered was a walk in the park.
She used thick pink cloth diapers with a soaker to diaper me and covered
them in a translucent lavender plastic diaper cover with six rows of
white floral ruffled lace on the bottom. Next she pulled dainty white
nylon socks on my feet with bright yellow ruffles. Diapered she helped
me stand. The thick bulk of the diaper between my legs forced me to
stand uncomfortably with my thighs spread. It forced me to walk with
what I can only describe as a waddle. As I stood, she put a bright
canary yellow with white lace trimmed training bra on me.

"Yo....you...do..don't want m...me to...actually use these?" I stuttered fearing
the worse placing my hand on the front of my diapers.

"Actually I do except if you have to do a number two you will tell me and
I will let you use the potty provided you have behaved," she curtly
responded. It wasn't the answer I wanted to hear but like I had any
choice and it could have been much worse.

She took my hand and led me to the closet where she removed a canary
yellow satin ***********'s party dress. I spotted a toddler's pink potty
chair sitting in the corner. The dress had large puffed short sleeves
with heavily laced cuffs in white tying off with yellow satin ribbon
bows. It was square necked with a short waist and box pleated full skirt
supported by three stiff built in net petticoats. The short bodice had
four rows of white satin bows running down the front in a "V" pattern.
The hem of the flaring skirt didn't cover but half of my butt exposing a
lot of my diapered ass.

I was surprised that the girlie clothing actually fit. Not too tight or
too loose. The only discomfort beside it being on me was that caused by
the net petticoats. They made my upper legs itch like crazy. Later I
learned that Stephanie had the clothing made to my measurements. That
fact also told me that Stephanie had my girlhood planed from very early
on and wasn't a spur of the moment decision.

Dressed I was then taken over to the vanity where she fashioned my long
hair into pleated pig tails tying them off with yellow satin ribbons with
long streamers. With the hair styled, she coated my lashes with black
lengthening mascara and my lips in a pearl pink. The lipstick made my
lips tingle. I had never worn or paid attention to lipstick ads but from
kissing my girlfriends never felt my lips tingle. Much later I learned
she was using a lipstick with a chemical additive that would swell my
lips. Again, over time, my lips became permanent soft pillows. She
finished me off with a heady floral perfume. All I could do was watch my
reflection in the vanity mirror as she turned me from boy to girl.

Diapered, dressed and made up she took me to the doll house. "I have
unpacking to do so I want you to sit here and play with your dollies.
You can find different outfits and accessories for them in the hope
chest. While I'm gone I expect you to play enthusiastically just like a
real ***********. This room is wired for both sound and pictures so I'll
know if you don't," she said as she put a disc into the CD player.

When she left the room I scanned the room more closely. Sure enough,
they were small but I counted six cameras. Defeated, I picked up one of
the dolls. I just held it as I had no idea of what to do next. I was a
guy and never played with dolls, girl dolls anyway. When I was a lot
younger I played with action figures. Now that I thought about it
"action figure" was just a ruse cause they were really dolls.
Remembering she said something about different outfits, I decided to
change the dolls clothing. As I played with the stupid doll I felt like
a fool. This was so unmanly but I went through the motions. Oh yeah,
the music I had to listen to was very irritating. It was nothing but
nursery rhymes set to music, so ******ile and sung in a high pitched
*********** voice.

I eventually got tired of changing the dolls clothing and opened the doll
house to see the inside. It was divided into various rooms just like
you'd find in a regular house's floor plan along with the miniature
furniture. I figured out that "playing house" was nothing more than a
*********** imitating grown up life.

"You want me to become a ***********? I don't have the faintest idea
about being a fuckin' ***********!" I screamed in frustration and anger
forgetting about the microphones.

Madam Simms came back and said, "So you don't know anything about being a
'fuckin' ***********' do you? For that you earned a good mouth washing
for cussing and instruction on how to be a good ***********. Oh, and for
yelling, your diapers will not be changed until tomorrow morning."

If you have ever tasted and swallowed soap you know the icky nauseous
cramping it can cause. The suds even get into your nose and it takes
like forever to stop smelling it. This was my first experience and a
very demeaning one at that. It was something I didn't want repeated but
over time I tasted more soap than I ever wanted. When my diapers were
finally changed, it was both a great relief and mortifying. They were
very wet and extremely stinky. Actually when you first pee in them the
warm wetness felt nice but when it cooled became unpleasant quickly. Add
in a stinky slimy pile of crap which spreads all over down there and you
have a very miserable time. She made sure I did both pee and p*o-p*o. I
was given many bottles of baby formula laced with both laxative and
diuretic to drink out of large baby bottles. The rubber nipples on the
bottles were three inches long, one inch in diameter and shaped like
dicks. It took a hard paddling before I could put that into my mouth and
suck on it. The taste of the formula made me want to gag but my burning
bottom kept me sucking.

With my mouth thoroughly washed out, she sat me at the small table and
powered up the computer. I spent the next two hours playing various
games designed for little princesses and another hour on a site that was
an electronic version of paper dolls. Having to do that was almost as
bad as the mouth washing.

I don't know how long I was isolated in that room. There were no windows
or clocks to tell the time or day. Madam Simms made sure I had no idea
or capability to figure it out either. She varied the times I was put to
bed. Sometimes I would be fully awake and into the crib. At other times
I would be dead tired and still not in my crib. For awhile I tried to
keep track by scratching a notch on the closet door but gave that up as
pointless.

My awake time was spent playing with my dollies or in the play pen with
my stuffed a****ls. When not doing that I was at the computer playing
those *********** games or memorizing *********** etiquette from a book
published in 1948. The CD kept playing that *********** singing nursery
rhymes over and over until bed time. It got to the point where I heard
that shrill *********** voice singing in my head in my sleep.

I was always dressed in satin party dresses in various pastel colors with
lots of stiff net crinolines. Delilah would come into my room in the
mornings and bed time to make sure I followed my toilet. My food was a
mush of adult food put into a blender and my liquids mostly baby formula.
Of course I had my handful of vitamins to take each morning and bed time.

During my play time I didn't see much of Madam Simms. She didn't need to
be there because of all the monitors but I spent time with her every day.
It was my class time in which I learned to write in girlish script, speak
in a ***********ish voice, move and behave like a girl per the etiquette
book. Again I tried to resist but having a wet and messy diaper for two
days without a change or spanking put a stop to that.

The only time my chastity device came off was for cleaning when I had a
messy diaper. I was never given the opportunity to play with it.
Something I longed to do. I barely remembered the last time I got to
touch it and have the relief I so desperately needed. Despite wanting
relief and totally sexually frustrated the sharp barbs in the device
ensured that I wouldn't get hard. The pain had me doubled over many
times but not so often now. I had vowed to endeavor to persevere and
keep my identity safe and sane but this *********** treatment was
breaking my will power.

By the time I was allowed out of that torture chamber I was singing along
with that *********** in a similar voice without even knowing that I was
doing so. I dropped a curtsey every time someone entered or left the
room, asked me a question or told me to do something without thought. I
hated being treated like a toddler especially the diapers so I did what I
had to in order to get out. I worked hard to become what they wanted so
I could get out of there.

One day Madam Simms entered my room and said what I longed to hear.
"Darla Jean you have shown some progress and I've decided to let you grow
up. Just remember this room is still yours and you can move back into it
as quickly as you have moved out. Now come along Delilah is waiting to
give you your morning toilet."

"Yes Madam Simms, thank you so much. I promise to behave," I replied
happily while dipping into a cute curtsey.

Ooo

I was hoping now that she had decided to let me grow up I wouldn't have
to perform those humiliating curtseys. I didn't realize just how
habitual that task had become and found myself curtseying like I had been
taught. After she told me I didn't have to curtsey all the time only
when first greeting her in the morning, it took time before I actually
could.

My biggest hope was that she would stop all this silliness and let me go
back to being a man. That hope immediately died when I saw my new room.
Yeah, you guessed it. Another ultra-feminine girl's room decorated to
please the heart of any teenaged girl. It was bigger than the one I left
but just as distasteful to me. The walls were painted in lavender with
pink vertical pen stripes and the floor covered in a plush beige carpet.
At least this room had a window so I could look out on the world
something I hadn't done in ages. It was treated with pinkish orange
satin curtains and bone colored blinds. All the furniture was French
Provencal, white enameled with gold piping. A queen sized bed with pink
chiffon canopy that d****d in billowing folds down the spindle posters
and tied off in large pink satin bows dominated the room. There was an
eight drawer dresser, side tables, vanity with lavender satin box pleated
skirting and matching bench seat and a small table with straight backed
chair completed the furnishings. The room had an attached full bath and
very large walk-in mirrored closet.

The bed had a bright white pillowed satin comforter with small pink rose
buds, two large pillows that matched the comforter, a large red satin
heart pillow with white lace trim was placed between the two larger ones,
white linens with a small floral print and pink satin skirting. The
bedside table held a white porcelain doll lamp and alarm clock. The lamp
shade was a miniature frilled parasol in pinks and lavenders. On top of
the dresser were two large dolls dressed in fancy costume representing
s*******nth century French ladies. On the wall facing the bed was a
large poster depicting Justin Bieber who I detested. On the wall beside
the bed was another large picture of a prima ballerina en pointe as the
swan in Swan Lake. There were two other posters on each side of the
window. One was some boy band I never heard of and the other featured
the pirate character "Jack Sparrow". Beside the feminine décor there was
a prevailing aroma of flowers filling the room. I didn't like it but it
beat the heck out of smelling baby power and stinky diapers.

Unlike the nursery this room had its own bathroom. The bathroom was
decorated with pink and white tiles, had a large footed tub, commode,
linen closet and white marble counter top with sink. A mirror ran the
entire length of the counter top and very well lit. It was great to have
a bathroom to use again but it had its drawbacks. The commode was
covered in a pink fuzzy tank top and seat cover which matched the small
rug around the base. I had always hated such decoration as when I stood
to pee the thickness of the seat cover wouldn't keep the seat up. Oh
well, that didn't matter now because I always sat to pee. It also didn't
have a shower which I dearly missed.

Again I was told that this would be my room until I displayed the
appropriate behavior of a young girl. Like I said I wasn't happy but it
beat being in the nursery and out of diapers. Actually I should tell the
truth. I was more than happy to be out of the nursery. I was ecstatic.

Instead of diapers I now wore cotton panties usually with floral prints,
training bras which were white cotton with a pink ribbon decoration. My
wardrobe was mostly dresses, skirts and blouses suitable for a young girl
of ten or eleven. I also had a few pair of girly shorts and tees. I
didn't mind the upgraded clothing choices so much but seeing the leotards
and tutus did. Another new addition that I wasn't overly pleased to see
was all the different cosmetics on the vanity and in the linen closet. I
soon learned that the cosmetics on the vanity weren't real in that they
were "play" lipsticks and powders that could be easily removed from any
surface. However, all the different nail varnishes were the real thing.
The linen closet contained container after container of bath beads, bath
oils, moisturizers and body lotions.

There were a few things brought in from the nursery, the pink computer,
CD player and my "favorite" dolly. Instead of nursery rhymes I had to
listen to boy bands, Hanna Montana and the like all day. They were
almost as nauseating as that ***********'s voice singing in the nursery.
Like before, it wasn't long before I was unthinkingly singing along with
the CD's. My computer was now used to watch various teen idol, fashion
and social media suitable for a young girl. I was also given several
magazines and books catering to young girls.

Delilah came in every morning and evening to instruct and observe my
morning and evening toilet. She also instructed me in the proper use of
all those lotions and creams I was now expected to use daily. She spent
time teaching me how to braid my hair and use things like barrettes,
clips and bobby pins to create different hair styles. I found "playing"
with my cosmetics the worst as what man would do that. Seeing me wearing
bright pink lipstick and green eye shadow was another major blow to my
masculinity.

Of course I saw Madam Simms on a daily basis for at least four hours. I
still had to practice the basics like writing femininely, voice training
and behavior. For my poise and behavior lessons I was given a book for
young lady's published in 1952. A couple of nauseating chapters in this
book described basic feminine hygiene. Madam Simms not only made sure I
knew the contents of those chapters completely but practiced them as
well. Since I didn't have a pussy you can guess the substitute I
practiced on. Looking back those lessons weren't that bad as I was
considered too young to have a period.

Other than "growing up" the other big change was Mademoiselle Lily. I
saw her Monday through Friday for two hours for ballet lessons. She came
to the house and taught me in the basement exercise room. When I first
went down there I was surprised to see all the weight and strength
training equipment gone. The room had been remodeled into a mirrored
dance studio for the most part with a small section devoted to a tread
mill, step climber and stationary bike. Mademoiselle Lily was a tall
thin woman, perhaps in her mid-forties and very demanding. Those first
lessons left my body hurting in places I didn't know you could hurt but
in time I adapted. The only time I left my room was for dance. It
wasn't a lot of freedom but better than the nursery that I never left.

It was during my "young girl" time that I noticed that my nipples were
becoming sensitive and seemed to have developed lumps under them. I
should have been more concerned then but I figured that wearing a
training bra all the time was the cause. Another thing I wrongfully
disregarded was not having much feeling in my groin or having an
erection. Actually at the time not having one was a big relief as the
barbs on the chastity device had been very painful.

It was in this room that I learned the basics of young girlhood and
ballet. I was taught the rudiments of clothing coordination and care,
cosmetic application, hair, nails and skin care, sewing and how to keep
my room spotless. More importantly what Madam Simms ingrained into my
mind set were the things that entertained and were enjoyed activities of
a young girl. Things like being boy crazy, makeup application, fashion
and music. They weren't enjoyable or entertaining to me but I did appear
to love those activities. Like I said, the punishments just weren't
worth my defiance.

Another good thing about that time was that I could actually keep track
of it. I had an alarm clock and there was a window I could look out of.
Finally Madam Simms said I was ready to move into my new room. I spent a
little over six months in that room and had really concentrated on my
studies and behavior. Yes, I knew what the Stockholm Syndrome was but I
had to be that way or it was back to the nursery plus I wanted to escape
all my tormentors. The only way I could do that would be to advance to
the next level. If I were treated more my true age and had more freedom
of movement I just might be able to escape. I pinned all my hopes and
desires to get to that level for the sole reason of escaping. I also
held a dim hope that now I would be allowed back into my boy clothing.
Like I said it was a dim hope but I had to hold onto the belief that I
would eventually get to be myself again.

Ooo

My new room, wow, it was just as feminine as the last. The walls were a
pale egg shell white with a wide floral boarder and cream plush
carpeting. The furnishings were in the same style as in my previous room
except the white enamel with gold piping was gone. This furniture was in
its natural maple wood and the canopy gone from the bed posts. The satin
skirting on the vanity and bench seat was a powder pink and the linens
were sensual lavender satin with a bright pink pillowed satin comforter.
The attached bath still didn't have a shower but this tub was a whirlpool
which I came to enjoy very much.

While the room and bath were not that much different the wall décor
certainly was. Instead of Justin the large framed one on the wall at the
foot of the bed was very disturbing. It depicted a heavily muscled man
wearing nothing but a Speedo that emphasized his very prominent package.
That picture would be the first thing I saw in the morning and the last I
would see at night. On the wall beside the bed was another large framed
picture. It depicted a prima ballerina en pointe wearing an elaborate
leotard and tutu. Two posters decorated the wall on each side of the
lavender satin curtains. One was Brad Pitt and the other Johnny Depp.
The aroma filling the room wasn't just the floral scent I was use to.
This one had a hint of spice and musk which I liked better than that
overly sweet floral scent.

The lighted vanity was overflowing with cosmetics and hair care products
only this time they were not k**'s stuff. The large walk-in closet was
overflowing with dresses, skirts, blouses, fancy nighties and tons of
shoes. Up until this point what shoes I had worn were either Mary Jane
styles, tennis or shoes with a one or two inch block heel. I spotted
several pairs in this closet with what looked like a seven inch spiked
heel and a thick platform sole. Seeing those shoes sent a shiver up my
spine and for just a second I had misgivings about coming here.

Opening the top drawer of my dresser I found it stuffed with different
styles and colors of nylon and lace frilled panties. In the second I
found, stacked in neat rows, many different kinds of bras with a satiny
finish. The third had camisoles, full and half slips all lavished with
lace and made of the slinkiest of fabrics. The forth was filled with
foundation garments most of which I was totally unfamiliar with. It
didn't take me long to hate the training corsets. The fifth was filled
with fancy garter belts and hosiery and the sixth had an assortment of
leggings most in a bright floral pattern and a few Capri's. The belts,
scarves and purses were in containers inside the closet.

After looking around my new room I was both pleased and saddened by the
lack of anything remotely masculine. I was pleased that it was a more
adult room and saddened that my enforced feminization would be
continuing. Again Madam Simms informed me that my old room and the
nursery were still mine and I could wind up back into either of them if I
didn't display the utmost concentration on my studies and behavior. She
also informed me that if I did well and showed enthusiasm that I would be
allowed trips out of the house.

Let me tell you those threats were taken very seriously. If you don't
believe me then you wear the same diaper for two days. That's the kind
of memory that never fades or having to listen to Justin and other boy
bands sing the same songs over and over again all the time you are awake.
See if you can take that for a week. The carrot she dangled in front of
me, getting out of the house, was a really great incentive. I was
salivating at the very thought of a much greater chance to escape. So
don't blame me for doing my very best to comply with her demands.

Becoming an older teenager had other benefits such as Delilah no longer
came to supervise my toilet. It really didn't matter because by now I
did my morning and evening toilet automatically without thought. My
meals became real none vegan food although I seldom ever got any red
meat. Oh what I would give for a hamburger or better yet a nice thick
juicy steak. The few times I was served a small piece of red meat, I
savored it like one would a rare vintage glass of wine. With the richer
diet I was gaining weight which introduced me to my most hated feminine
garment, the training corset.

This particular corset was made of a heavy canvas like material with
elastic bands and panels strategically placed to pull in my stomach,
round my shoulders and up lift my butt. It had a smooth soft lining,
rigid stiff metal boning, zipped up the front and tied off in the back
with laces. It was a miserable thing to wear, keeping my back ram rod
straight and retained heat. Fortunately, I only had to wear it at night
but my day time corsets weren't much better. I have to admit that they
were very pretty. These corsets were made of satin in bright colors and
frilled with contrasting lace and satin ribbon bows. The training corset
reached from just below my breasts down to mid-thigh while my day time
ones stopped at crotch level. They both had one thing in common besides
being uncomfortable. They kept my back ram rod straight, my waist and
stomach in and my butt and chest out.

Another bothersome item was added to my feet when I went to bed. It was
like a five inch wedged heeled pointed toed sandal except it was covered
in black leather and laced up to just past my ankles. This device kept
my feet angled downward at a steep uncomfortable angle. I later
discovered that his horrible device, when worn over time, would shorten
my Achilles tendons forcing me to wear high heels all the time. It also
forced my toes into a permanent "V" with my big and little toes pointing
inward at a sharp angle. My feet ache all the time now but hurt if I'm
not wearing at least a four inch heel. It is the reason that when doing
ballet, I'm en pointe most of the time.

Madam Simms continued my lessons in deportment, voice and penmanship.
Only this time the deportment and penmanship lessons were very different.
Deportment emphasized female to male relationships and flirting
techniques. For penmanship I was given a pink leather bound diary in
which I wrote down my innermost thoughts. Both of these changes were
extremely embarrassing and humiliating and the worst I had encountered so
far. These lessons were very mortifying and humiliating for me and I
balked at first but going back was out of the question. I had to get
away and my best chances lie in staying in this room.

I hated having to master flirting techniques like batting my eye lashes,
pouting just so, even to how I licked my lips plus other methods to
attract male attention. Madam Simms had given me an anatomically correct
love doll to practice my more advanced education. I spent a lot of time
just reading magazines like "Cosmo," "Play Girl," "s*******n," and the
like. In addition I read a lot of romance novels and watched way too
many chick flicks.

An hour before bedtime each night I had to make entries into my diary.
If you think those entries were just mundane repetitions of what happened
to me that day you're wrong. No, I had to make entries not only in a
neat feminine script but from a girl's point of view. My love doll's
name was Jake, no mistaking the gender of that name, became "my"
boyfriend. As such, I made daily entries into my diary all about how
"wonderful," "darling," and "sweet" he was to be with and how much I
"wanted" him in a much more personal way. Yuck! If you read my diary you
would swear a love sick *********t girl was the author. It took several
months, some pain and nausea before I acted excited and enthusiastic
enough to please my nanny.

It was also determined by Madam Simms that I was now old enough to have
my period. Now that was almost as disgusting as having to make out with
Jake. I learned all about keeping track of my cycle, the use of tampons,
pads and other hygiene practices of a woman who's sexually active.

Most of my lessons concentrated on my inter-personal relationships and
hygiene but not all. I had to keep up with the latest fashions, makeup
and music plus I had ballet. I eagerly awaited my dance classes as I was
driven to Madam Lily's studio for those. There is no way to put into
words how delighted I was to actually be outside but these excursions
were closely supervised. I was entered into her regular class of girls
about my own age. I was scared, shy and intimidated attending those
first classes. I was scared that I would be discovered as a boy. I was
shy being the "new girl" and never had to socialize with them as an equal
before. Their talent intimidated me as I didn't have the long term
training they had. However after two or three classes I became very
comfortable being around them. With all my training I could easily talk
on their level about fashions, makeup, boys, music and boys. Within a
few weeks I was friends with most of the f******n girls in the class.

Ballet was a welcome relief from my intensive "girlie" training and just
being able to talk to others my age refreshing. Looking back on those
early days I should have expected something was wrong. I still thought
of myself as a male but I had absolutely no sexual feelings towards any
of them. What I found myself doing was comparing their clothing, style
and looks to my own. Even Heather the prettiest girl in my class with
her firm C-cup breasts, flowing golden hair and green eyes didn't get a
physical reaction out of me. I just lusted after her beautiful green
eyes wishing I had them.

My trips out of the house were not just to ballet. Occasionally Madam
Simms e*****ed me to the mall to do window shopping mostly. She used
these times to observe me using my flirting techniques to get boys
interested in me and how I reacted to seeing a really cute outfit.
Initially I used these trips to see if I could find a way to escape but
over time the impossibility of it dawned on me. Madam Simms kept a very
tight rein on me and never let me out of her sight or grasp. Once I saw
a police officer close by and thought about running up to him and
pleading for help but didn't have the courage.

Think about it, I looked and appeared to be a pretty teenage girl. I was
dressed in panties, B-cup naturally filled out bra, frilly semi-
transparent pink nylon blouse, black mini-skirt, black hose and pink four
inch spike heeled strappy sandals. I had been using my feminine voice
for so long there was no way I could ever sound like a man and in full
makeup. None of the girls at ballet had a second thought that I was
anything but a pretty eighteen year old girl. Even I no longer
questioned that after seeing myself so many times in the mirror. The
only thing that proved otherwise was my chastity device. If I ran up to
that officer and said I was a boy being forced to wear girl's clothing by
the time he quit laughing Madam Simms would have pulled me away. I
didn't even want to think of the punishment that act would get me. After
that day I pretty much gave up any hope of escaping my fate. Hell, by
now, even my thought processes were becoming almost totally feminine. I
found myself thinking of myself as a girl more and more as each day
passed. I even tried walking and behaving like a boy a few times but
failed dismally. My only hope now rested in becoming all the girl I
possibly could so that Stephanie would release me from Madam Simms.

Now that I had been in this room for a few months, I saw Stephanie more
and more often. At first she was still very cold and aloft but gradually
she seemed to warm. On her last visit she hinted that if I continued to
behave and conduct myself as the pretty girl I appeared to be she would
let me continue to live in the house without any direct supervision.

Talk about an incentive. So I did my very best and completely submerged
my real self some where in the very back of my mind. After another six
months, I was given a choice by Stephanie.

"Darla Jean I have a proposition for your consideration. You can
continue here under Madam Simms's care or you can move on with your life.
No, don't say anything until you hear me out. Should you decide to move
on, you will have to agree to go out with a young man I have selected.
He comes from a good family and, in a way, is special like you are. I
need to form a relationship with his family and getting you two together
will seal the deal. You have until your ballet recital next Saturday to
give me your answer, any questions?" she said.

To say that I was shocked would be an understatement. Go out with a boy,
was the first question that hit me and the second was could I even do
that. I don't know how long I sat there with my mouth working but
nothing coming out but finally managed to ask,"Wha...what do..do you mean
go out?"

"What I mean is that you will agree to marry this gentleman if he asks
and become his legal wife. This state recognizes same sex marriages and
your union will form the business base that I need. Like I said, don't
give me your answer now wait until after your recital and get to meet
him. If I were you, I'd give my request very serious thought," she said
getting up and leaving.

Holy crap! That was a stunner. I never expected anything like that and
was totally taken away by her demands. What was I going to do? I wasn't
gay but then again I wasn't a real man anymore either. My penis was
small and didn't really work, I had real boobs and a full B-cup at that.
Thanks to my corsetry my body shape was definitely female and I had to
wear at least four inch heels to even walk comfortably. As I peered into
my full length mirror all I saw was a young woman and a pretty one at
that. Madam Simms's intense training regarding female to male
relationships had really dimmed my aversion to gay sex. Not totally but
to a large extent anyway in that I didn't toss my cookies or get sick
performing those intimate acts.

There was that great big carrot though. I could get my freedom from not
only Madam Simms but Stephanie as well. It would be a totally different
life than what I had planned but still I had been living full time as a
girl for about two years. There were even aspects of womanhood that I
actually had grown to enjoy. Things like the wonderful clothing choices
and variety, the silkiness of the lingerie and that I could show my
emotions or silliness without qualms.

So here I sit awaiting my cue to go on stage. I met my husband to be,
you might have guessed it, his name is Jake. To be exact Jake
Summersfield Esquire, the third son of the Summersfield's of New York.
He's tall, quite handsome with a muscled frame and a junior partner in
his father's prestigious law firm. I still haven't made my final
decision yet but my time is running out. Oh dear, that's my cue. What
am I gonna do?

The End


I haven't been posting a lot on FM but this story is in a new format and
wanted your feedback. I'm currently submitting most of my stories to
tgstories.com. They don't provide an Author search but I will email all
that I have submitted should you desire.














Prissy Sissy

By Cheryl Lynn

This is a short work of fiction rushed to a conclusion. It may be
downloaded for personal use only, any other use forbidden unless approved
by the author. All the usual disclaimers apply. Not for the faint of
heart or sweet/sentimental reader. I was going to submit this to
tgstories.com but decided to leave it short and unsweetened.
Constructive criticism and comments welcome at cheryl2lynn@yahoo.com.


Prissy Sissy

Ned Baxter was a fairly normal k**, living a normal life with his mom and
dad in a nice house. The house was a five bedroom three bath ranch style
in a nice suburban area. The home owners association made sure the
communal areas were kept up and decorated extensively during the
holidays. Many of the home owners vied with one another during the
holidays to see who could put out the best decorations as well. Ned
really enjoyed growing up in that neighborhood.

Ned was almost s*******n, five six and weighed one hundred ten pounds
with shoulder length light brown hair when they moved into the new
neighborhood. He usually had his hair tied into a low pony tail like his
father's. His dad was thirty-one, five nine and weighed one fifty-five
with collar length dark brown hair. Neither of them worked out but in
good health. They enjoyed watching sports, fishing and the outdoors.
With his mother's death neither had much desire to do anything other than
watch sports. Occasionally they went out to eat and see a movie but that
was about it. Jim owned a small computer business that he operated out
of a store front. He could easily have worked from home but the home
owners association prohibited home based businesses.

Ned and his father's life changed when his mother got sick and passed on
during his sophomore year. Everything around the house and neighborhood
were painful reminders of their loss. They both decided that moving
would help them get over the pain. During the summer before the start of
Ned's junior year, they moved from the suburbs. They settled into an
older much smaller three bedroom two bath wood framed house in the city.
The houses were built closer together. Most of the neighbors' were
elderly and stately oaks lined the streets. The neighborhood was exactly
what they needed as it was the complete opposite from what they were use
to. The only thing Ned didn't like was that there weren't any k**s
living in the area.

They were busy unpacking when the doorbell chimed. "Hi, I'm Daphne and
live in the house next door. I saw you and your daughter moving in and
thought you might like some fresh homemade cookies and spot of tea," she
said to his dad, Jim.

Daphne appeared to be in her late fifties, wearing a blue and white
checked gingham dress, salt and pepper hair cut in a short bob style,
sparkling blue eyes, plump but not fat. Jim just wanted to finish
unpacking but bowed to convention and invited her in.

"Thank you, I'm Jim Baxter and this is my son, Ned, please come on in,"
he replied.

"Oh I'm sorry, the long hair fooled me. I thought you had a daughter.
It's a shame, it would be nice to have a young girl moving into the
neighborhood," she said as she walked into the kitchen making her self
right at home.

"Gracie use to live here with her two girls and we were great friends. I
looked after the girls until they were into their late teens while she
went to work. Practically raised them myself, oh well, it's nice to have
new neighbors though," she continued as Jim dug into some boxes trying to
find cups and saucers.

Over cookies and tea Daphne wiggled out Jim and Ned's life story and by
the time she went home, was asked to watch over Ned. Ned didn't like the
idea and despite all his arguing after she left, his dad wouldn't change
his mind.

"Look son I can see your point but you know my hectic schedule. Schools
out and it seems like everyone either wants their computer fixed, up
graded or a new one. Plus Quantum Engineering wants me to re-do their
web site. With your mother gone, I have to have someone keep an eye on
you. Daphne seems like a nice woman, knows the neighborhood and lives
right next door. It's not like she's moving in. Now come on, help me
hook up the entertainment center so we can watch the ballgame tonight,"
Jim said ending the dispute.

Ooo

Monday morning after Jim left for work, Ned was busy setting up his
computer when Daphne walked in. "Good morning Ned. I just stopped by to
see if everything was alright."

"Jeez, don't you ever knock?" he said startled. Realizing he was only
wearing his boxers and tee, grabbed his jeans off the floor blushing.

"Sorry dear, I didn't mean to startle you. I still have Gracie's keys
and your father did ask me to keep an eye on you," she said as he was
stumbling around trying to get his jean on.

"I don't need someone to check on me. I'm old enough to take care of
myself," he yelled.

"Now don't take that tone with me missy! I've raised enough girls to
know what I'm doing," she snapped.

"I'm not some silly girl. I'm a guy and you don't need to check on me.
I can take care of myself," he shouted back.

"Well you could have fooled me with that long hair and it's obvious that
you don't know how to properly care for it either. Come with me and I'll
teach you how to care for it," she stated.

"Fuck you lady! I don't have to do what you say. Now get out of my room
and leave me the fuck alone!" he shouted defiantly. He was steamed by
her intrusion, calling him a girl and let his temper control his tongue.

Daphne walked over to where he was standing with his hands curled up into
fists. "Such a foul mouth on such a cute head, we'll have to correct
that, now won't we," she calmly replied.

Before he could react, she reached out, grabbed his right earlobe between
thumb and forefinger. With a firm hold on his ear, she pulled. With a
yelp of pain, Ned was forced to follow her into the bathroom. He slapped
at her arm trying to make her let go of his ear but that only made her
pull the harder. She was much stronger and his struggles only made the
pain emanating from his ear all the more. She shoved him away as she
shut and locked the bathroom door with a key she had taken from the white
cotton bib apron she wore. She turned back to face him. Her eyes
blazing in fury making him take a step back.

"Now missy we need to come to an understanding. I'm in charge and you
will do as I say. The first thing I'm going to do is wash those filthy
words out of your mouth then we are going to tend to that mop of hair.
You will learn to obey me or else," she seethed in anger.

Ned was bending over the commode, spittle and ***** spinning around in
the bowl. Daphne had thoroughly washed his mouth out with soap and he
was paying the price for it. The taste of soap was still strong as she
bent his head over the tub and soaked his hair under the shower spray.
With his hair wet, she moved him over to the sink and began shampooing
his hair. She used a small bottle of strawberry scented shampoo taken
from her apron pocket to saturate his long hair. There was enough to
wash his hair twice before using another bottle of conditioner. When she
had finished, she wrapped his wet hair in a turban, grabbed his earlobe
and led him from the bathroom into the kitchen. On the table was a pink
case she had brought over and removed a blow drier and bristle brush.
Thirty minutes later his hair was dry and brushed such that the ends
tucked under slightly above his shoulders.

"Now that looks much better. I expect you to take care of it just like
this from now on. Put your shoes on and we'll go over to my house. I
have everything you will need there," she said.

Ned did what she demanded. After the mouth washing he wasn't going to
object. "I'll tell dad as soon as he comes home and that bitch will be
history," he mumbled as he put on his flip flops.

Daphne's house had the same design as theirs but furnished and decorated
in an ultra-feminine style. The walls were painted in soft pinks and
lilacs with beige carpet or with floral wall paper and hardwood flooring.
The furniture was delicate with plush upholstery and lace doilies. The
house reeked of flowers and sweet perfume. Porcelain figurines and
crystal knick-knacks lined the shelves. The only thing remotely
masculine was a placard on the wall that said something about thirty
years of service from some nut house. He was led into one of the guest
rooms.

"This is the room Gracie's girls used when they stayed over. Never had
the heart to remove any of their things once they moved on," she said.

If anything this room was more girlie than the rest of the house. The
walls were painted in a soft pinkish egg shell color with a floral
boarder. The furniture was delicate, painted in white enamel with gold
piping. There was a lighted vanity with lavender satin skirting and
matching bench padded seat, eight drawer dresser, and straight backed
chair by the only window. The window had flowing soft pink with orange
highlighted curtains in a lustrous material. The queen sized brass bed
had a lavender chiffon canopy and matching satin skirting. A white
quilted satin comforter decorated with small red rose buds, pink linens
and two lace edged pillows covered the bed frame. The bedside table was
covered with a white lace d**** and had a pink ceramic lamp and alarm
clock sitting on it. The walls were decorated with a number of framed
prints. None of which a boy would ever want in his room. The most
disturbing for Ned was the one of an Olympic swimmer wearing a red, white
and blue Speedo that left little to the imagination.

She told him to go and sit on the vanity bench while she gathered what he
would need. Ned was on edge as he sat down. This was the most girlish
room he had ever seen and it made him feel like he was an invader. It
was a feminine sanctuary that boys should never be found in. He was very
uncomfortable sitting there as Daphne took the pink case she had brought
over and told him she would be right back.

When she came back she placed the case on the vanity and began pulling
items from the drawers. Besides the drier and brush he saw several
bottles of shampoo, condition and others he couldn't identify. The
brush, comb and drier he could understand but when she began putting in
large bristle rollers, hair pins, hair nets and setting gel into the case
he was confused. She looked at him, then opening another drawer put
several jars into the case.

"You're developing acne and these ointments will keep your face nice and
pretty," she said as she closed the case.

"I don't want to look pretty and what the hell is all that stuff she put
into that case. She can't be expecting me to actually use any of that,"
he thought as they headed by over to his house. On the way out, Daphne
grabbed a pink and white stripped bib apron from behind her kitchen door.

Back at the house she emptied the case into various drawers in what was
his bathroom. When everything was put away except for three jars, she
grabbed his chin, twisted it back and forth. "Yep, if you don't start
taking care of your skin properly you will scar that pretty face with
acne. I'll show you how to stop that from happening," she stated.

She opened the first jar and began rubbing the pink ointment onto his
face with a cotton pad. As she covered his lower face, she told him that
he needed to apply this cream twice a day. "Once in the morning and
before going to bed, leave it on for fifteen minutes then wash it off,"
she instructed. What she didn't tell him was that this lotion was a
depilatory and over time would destroy the hair follicles on his face.
The other lotion was a cleanser and the last a moisturizer. He had
several friends that suffered from bad acne so he didn't complain.

When she was satisfied that he knew what to do, she spent the rest of the
afternoon instructing and helping him clean the house. He had balked at
having to don the apron and doing what he called women's work. When she
asked how he expected the house to clean itself grumpily did as told. He
frowned as she looped the apron over his head and tied a floppy bow in
the back. They cleaned until it was time for his father to come home.
Daphne took him into the kitchen and taught him how to make supper. It
was simple, baked chicken breasts in cream of mushroom soup, broccoli and
boiled new potatoes. As his dad drove into the garage, she sent Ned to
clean up.

"Jim I hope you don't mind but I had to punish Ned this morning. When I
came by to check on him, he used some very vulgar words and told me to
get out. I washed his mouth out with soap. Young men should not be
allowed to use that kind of language around polite society. If you have
a problem with that, you can find someone else to look after him," she
said distraughtly.

"What? I'm sorry Daphne that Ned was so disrespectful. I'll have a talk
with him and while I don't like to punish him, I guess what you did is
alright. However, please, just tell me if he upsets you in the future
and I'll take care of it when I get home," Jim replied a bit shocked.

"I'll be going now. I showed Ned how to cook supper tonight and it will
be ready in a minute or two. I think we need to talk some more about me
watching over Ned. Would you mind coming over after you have had supper.
I'll have a pot of tea waiting," she replied.

Jim wasn't happy about what had happened while he was at work or that she
punished his boy but he needed someone to watch the k**. As they ate
supper, he gave Ned the riot act and told him that he expected better
from him in the future. After the meal, he went to see Daphne. He
didn't even notice that Ned's hair shined and was not in his usual low
pony tail.

Daphne greeted him warmly and led him into her kitchen. There she served
him a cup of tea and some cookies. Jim didn't particularly like tea
preferring coffee but the cookies were very good. As they talked he kept
nibbling at the cookies and drank several cups of her strange bitter
sweet tea. He was surprised when he got home to notice that it was
almost ten o'clock. "Where did the time go," he thought as he went to
get ready for bed. He had an early appointment in the morning and he was
surprisingly tired but relaxed.

The next morning she showed up with a small plate of cookies which she
let Ned have with a glass of milk. With nothing but crumbs on the plate
she took him into the bathroom. There she pulled out the bristle curlers
and began putting them in his hair wrapping them tightly to his scalp.
She did half his head then had him do the other half. With his hair
rolled, she placed a pink hairnet over them and tied it at the back.

"Ned, you want your hair to look nice don't you? To make it look nice
you will have to do this every night before you go to bed then brush it
out in the morning. Understand? Good, let's see if we can get some work
done today, shall we?" she said as he stared blankly into the mirror.

Over the next couple of months nothing much changed in the Baxter
household. Daphne came over every day except Sunday, checked to see that
he had followed her facial and hair regiment then helped Ned keep the
house clean. Every evening she would invite Jim over to discuss the
day's events over her cookies and tea. Ned was kept busy enough so that
he didn't have time to go out into the neighborhood exploring. The only
time he and his dad did anything was on Sundays. They enjoyed getting
out and doing things. Usually that involved going to catch a ball game
and a movie later.

Occasionally, Olivia came over from the house across the street to visit
with Daphne. She was in her early sixties, overly plump with gray hair
in a tight bun at the back of her head. The only makeup that she wore
was a bright red slash of lipstick and pink blush on her cheeks. She had
a large nose and wore thick black rimmed glasses and smelled of liniment
and baby powder. When she visited, they would sit and watch the soaps
while Ned did the housework. Ned didn't like Olivia as she was always
pinching his cheeks, calling him a "doll" and telling him what pretty
hair he had.

"Back before I retired I was a pretty darn good beautician doll. I met a
lot of women that would just die to have such body. What say you let me
work on it a bit? I could do wonders with hair like yours," she would
tease.

Ooo

At the beginning of August things began to change. The most notable was
his father. He was spending at lot of time over at Daphne's, coming home
late and going straight to bed. Only now he was looking older and more
stressed. His hair a bit longer now had a lot of gray running through
it. There were wrinkles and bags under his eyes where none had been
before. He was looking a lot older than his thirty-one years. The
biggest change though was his attitude. It seemed that whenever Daphne
suggested something he did it no matter how strange the request was. Ned
was surprised one Sunday as they were watching a ball game on television.
His dad was in a pair of kaki shorts and his legs were shaven clean of
any hair.

"Dad, what did you do? It looks like you shaved your legs. What's going
on?" Ned asked.

"Oh, that, nothing....Daphne suggested it. Said I would feel more
comfortable if I didn't have all this body hair while it's so hot out. I
thought it a bit silly at first but Olivia urged me to go ahead and try
it. No big deal. It will grown back but I do feel a lot cooler now.
Heck, you might even want to try it yourself," he replied dismissively.

"No way dad," was all Ned could reply.

What Ned didn't know was that by the end of July, Daphne had Jim under
her complete control. She had been giving him psychotropic d**gs infused
into her tea and cookies that made him highly susceptible to her
suggestions. The more of the d**gs he took the stronger her hold over
him. He also didn't know that his father was providing certain oral
pleasures to both Daphne and Olivia.

Changes were also happening to Ned. When Daphne noted that his hands
were red from his daily chores, she had him using a hand cream several
times a day. She had insisted since he was using the cream, that he rub
it onto his elbows and heels nightly to prevent chaffing. She also
insisted that he keep his nails looking nice. She taught him how to use
an emery board, cuticle stick and apply clear coat which he had to do
daily. To further protect his hands he now wore pink rubber gloves. He
had been shampooing and conditioning his hair every other day for so long
it had become an automatic function. His nightly use of the depilatory
and moisturizer had made his face smooth and delicate. Wearing the
bristle rollers to bed at night, at first irritating, no longer bothered
him.

Daphne was a hard taskmaster but often rewarded him with fresh baked
cookies in the afternoon. His belligerent attitude softened over those
two months. He often got really upset whenever she gave him a new chore
and stopped helping around the house but now he accepted what she
demanded. He was doing all the house work including the ironing. When
she started bringing over her own laundry for him to wash and iron, he
only grumbled under his breath. He was really embarrassed when he had to
hand wash her delicates then hang them to dry on the outside line.

One day as he was eating his cookies, she noticed large sweat stains on
his tee shirt and hauled him into the bathroom. "Ned you reek of sweat
and ruined your shirt so from now on I want your body hairless. You
don't want to smell like some filthy a****l, now do you? No, I didn't
think so. With all that hair gone, you won't sweat as much or ruin your
shirts. You will use this depilatory cream daily. You don't want to
stink or sweat so you will do this, understand?" she told him.

He mumbled a "yes" and nodded his head. His eyes had a glazed over look
as he stripped. She then covered his body in a cream that soon began
foaming and smelling like rotten eggs. He stood passively until it began
to burn his skin. He wanted to protest but decided the pain was worth it
if it removed his ugly body hair. As he applied a soothing moisturizer
to his denuded skin he felt like something was wrong but continued his
task without complaint.

About mid-August things took an even more strange twist. Jim always wore
a coat and tie to the office but now began wearing flare legged slacks
and pastel colored poly long sleeved light weight shirts with an open
collar. He kept his long hair loose which now seemed to have a lot more
curl than before. He was also gaining a lot of weight thanks to a high
caloric diet Daphne convinced him to go on. Ned on the other hand was
loosing weight. Over his objections, Daphne had placed him on a strict
vegan diet. She made sure there was nothing else to eat in the house.
Jim took all his meals over at Daphne's or Olivia's place. Ned
complained bitterly about it with his dad but it didn't do any good. Jim
made it very clear that Ned would do whatever Daphne told him to do.

Since they moved Ned had no contact with the outside world except on
Sundays when he and his dad did something. His only contact was through
his computer with his old friends. He spent every night after cleaning
up the kitchen, e-mailing or surfing the net. Like any teenager, he
spent a lot of time looking at porn sites. He was sexually frustrated as
he spent so much time alone and with all his chores unable to get out and
meet any girls. As time went on, he spent even more of his private time
looking at porn and finding self relief.

By August he was still in contact with a few of his friends but that
number was dwindling and the e-mails short and terse. There just wasn't
very much he could talk about with them. He wasn't about to tell them he
learned an easier way to iron pleats. He was sitting at the computer in
his pajamas one evening while his dad was with Daphne. His pajama
bottoms around his ankles, his hand pumping vigorously on his rock hard
dick and the beautiful blonde on the screen screaming "I'm coming!" when
Olivia entered unseen into his room.

"What the hell are you doing you pervert!" she screamed making him fall
off the chair. His dick quickly shriveled in fear and embarrassment as
he tried to pull his pajama bottoms up.

As he was scrambling to do that Olivia marched over to him, grabbed him
by the upper arm and easily pulled him over the chair's seat. With his
bare butt exposed, she began spanking him. She didn't stop until it was
cherry red and his wails of protest subsided into flowing tears. She
then grabbed his wrist and pulled him to his feet.

"You're coming with me. I have something that will stop that perversion
of yours in its tracks at the house," she said dragging him, pajama
bottoms around his ankles from the room.

Approaching the front door Ned lost his pajama bottoms and he tried to
pull away from her. With his weight loss he was no match for the large
woman as she dragged him out the door, across the street and into her
house. Once outside Ned stopped struggling as he didn't want anyone else
seeing him. It would be mortifying if anyone saw him naked from the
waist down and an old woman manhandling him like he was just a toddler.
He was taken into her bedroom and pushed into a corner.

"You keep that nose pressed into that corner," she ordered giving his
bottom a hard slap.

Ned was terrified. He had never been spanked before and his poor ass was
throbbing. His tears had slowed down to a trickle but were replaced by a
growing panic. "What is this old woman planning on doing to me? Wasn't
that spanking bad enough? I can't believe she caught me doing that.
Shit, I've never been so humiliated. Scared the crap out of me when she
barged in like that," he thought.

"Alright pervert get over here," Olivia barked.

She was sitting on the bed with an evil grin on her face. "This was my
husband's years ago. Almost threw it away when he died but glad I
didn't. Spread those legs and keep your hands at your sides," she said
as he stood before her.

Ned's eyes got as big as saucers when she reached out and grabbed his
penis. Seeing what she had in her hand, he wanted to run but she had a
firm hold on his most private parts. He watched on in horror as she slid
the pink tube over his penis, pressed his balls back up inside his groin
before covering it with a pink shield. With the device in place she
brought the thin straps connected to the tube and shield to the middle of
his back. He heard several clicking sounds as the straps were drawn
tight against his skin. Standing up, she took him by his shoulders and
marched him over to the full length mirror. Gazing into the mirror, Ned
saw that his penis was pulled down between his legs. He reached down and
tried to get it off but it didn't budge.

"That will cure you of your filthy habit. I had my late husband in that
for thirty years and he could never get it off try as he might. You can
use the bathroom with that on but you are going to have to sit to pee.
The only way that's coming off is if I take it off," she said with a
giggle.

"Yo....you can....can't do this to me! I'll tell my dad! He'll....he'll...."
Ned began to protest.

"He'll do nothing of the sort pervert! He's been in one just like it for
over a month now," she snarled.

"You....you're lying. My....my dad would never let...let anyone do that to
him," he stammered in defiance.

"Fine by me pervert, let's go ask him right now," she replied grinning.

"Wha...what? I can't go out looking like this. I'm practically naked," he
gasped.

"I can fix that," she said walking over to her dresser and pulling out a
pair of white granny panties. They were probably big enough to fit three
of Ned but she pulled them up his legs anyway.

"You just hold on to them until we get over to Daphne's," she said
grabbing his wrist.

Ned was beet red by the time they arrived at Daphne's house. It was bad
enough having to walk out in the open clutching the panties but having
his father seeing him like this would be devastating. All thoughts of
his predicament were forgotten as soon as they entered the house.
Standing in the kitchen was his father. Daphne was sitting at the table
sipping a glass of wine. Ned stood frozen, the granny panties sliding
down to the floor as he stared in disbelief. He probably would have
slunk to the floor if Olivia wasn't holding his hand.

His father was dressed in a black cotton with white collar and cuffs knee
length maid's dress. His legs covered in opaque black support hose and
black three inch pumps were on his feet. His hair was in a bun with a
white lace ruffled maid's cap with long black streamers fastened to it.
Pink rubber gloves were on his hands and the plate he had been washing
dropped, as if in slow motion, to shatter on the floor.

As if from afar Ned heard Olivia say, "I caught this pervert wanking off
to some bimbo on his computer. Took care of him just like we did his
father but he didn't believe me so I brought him over to see for
himself."

"James, show your son what we do to perverts around here then clean up
that mess you just made," Daphne demanded. Slowly his father raised his
skirt and petticoats to reveal black satin panties. Blushing fiercely,
he pulled the panties down to reveal his imprisoned groin. Putting
everything back in place, he curtsied, said "Yes Mistress," and began
cleaning up the glass shards.

Ned regained his focus when Daphne grabbed his other hand and was being
marched into the guest room. "Wh...What have you done to my dad? Wha...what
are you gonna do with me?" he croaked.

"We didn't do anything that your father didn't want. We just encouraged
and brought out his true calling. As for you, you'll have to wait and
see. Don't want to spoil the surprise now do we?" Daphne replied as he
was shoved into the room.

Ned looked around wondering why they had brought him here. His curiosity
was answered when Daphne said, "You will be staying here until your
father has a chance to make some changes at your house. Now to see if we
can find something more appropriate for you to wear."

"I don't want to stay in this sissy room. I want to go home to my own
room," his protest came out more like a whine. While he wasn't given
nearly as much of the psychotropic d**gs his ability to disobey was weak.
His actions were more like a petulant *********** than anything else. In
the recesses of his mind he was fully aware of what was happening but,
try as he might, couldn't fight what was being done. He could only look
on as if a bystander in horror at the changes he was undergoing. The
best thing Ned could do was glare at the two women that controlled his
life. With Olivia he could be a little more belligerent as she wasn't
the one implanting suggestions into his mind.

"Hold out your arms Ned," she said as she slipped the nylon straps of a
yellow with white lace frilled training bra up his arms. When the bra
was secured, she handed him the matching high leg panties. He turned
scarlet when she patted his panty covered groin.

"Perfect, from your reaction I can tell you are fully aware of what we
are doing but helpless to stop any of it. Let me find a nice nightie for
you then we'll put you to bed," she said.

The yellow nightie was a double layered nylon and chiffon with a square
cut neckline frilled with white lace and bright satin ribbon at the
center. The short sleeves were large puffs with lace fringe secured with
yellow satin ribbons. Dressed for the night, she had him sit at the
vanity and perform his night time beauty regiment. She smiled brightly
as he easily rolled his hair and set it for the night.

"Tomorrow Olivia will give you a nice haircut Ned. Won't that be a nice
treat," Daphne said as she tucked him in.

The next morning Ned woke up disorientated and confused until he
remembered what happened. He groaned and a tear leaked out of one eye as
he sat up in bed. He wanted to be violent. He wanted to rage and throw
things but couldn't summon up the will necessary to do it. Daphne came
in soon after, had him step into a pair of pink fuzzy bunny slippers and
follow her into the kitchen. He was afraid to let his father see him
like he was dressed but he wasn't anywhere around.

After breakfast, she took him into the bathroom and showed him how to
prepare a bubble bath using lots of scented oils and bath beads. As the
bath was filling he coated his body in the depilatory cream. With his
body moisturized, powdered with scented talc Daphne showed him how to
wrap a towel around his chest. Back in the room, he was given a fresh
matched set of lingerie. He struggled a bit with the emerald green
training bra but with a little help, adjusted the straps and had it
hooked. The panties were a full brief cut with white floral lace inserts
at the hips. She handed him a container of baby powder and instructed
him to sprinkle some into the high waist panty girdle before putting it
on. The girdle was a muted emerald green and bright green satin front
panel with an elaborate floral pattern stitched in silver thread. The
girdle reached above his navel and pulled his already thin waist in
another two inches. The back seam dug into his bottom, separating and
enhancing his cheeks. Dressed in his lingerie, she gave him a pair of
pale green nylons and showed him how to knead them up his legs and attach
the welts to the girdle's garter tabs.

Stepping into a pair of low heeled white pointed toed pumps he went to
the vanity. With the rollers removed his hair fell in gentle waves past
his shoulders. Daphne put black mascara on his lashes and bubble gum
pink lipstick on his lips finishing up with a spray of sweet floral
perfume. Handing him a sheer pale green nylon wrap led him back into the
kitchen where Olivia was waiting. Throughout the entire process Ned's
mind was screaming "No! I don't want this" but couldn't physically
resist.

An hour later he was taken back to get dressed for the day. His hair had
been bleached to a brassy golden blonde hue then cut into a tight prickly
flat top. "That's right Ned. We all know that you don't want to be a
girl. You have said so often enough so we decided that what you really
want to be is one big prissy sissy. With that hair cut, flat chest and
the girl's outdated clothing nobody will recognize you as anything but a
big sissy.

Ooo

Staying with Daphne had been extremely traumatic for Ned. He spent his
days carrying a purse and learning how to move with an exaggerated
mincing wiggle, elbows tucked in, wrists limp and speaking in an
artificially high lisp. Other than plucking his brows into feminine
arches his face wasn't dramatically changed. During the day he wore skin
tight short-shorts with frilly feminine blouses covering his training
bra, panties and girdle. In the evenings he wore tight leggings or pants
like Capri's and peddle pushers with chiffon or satin blouses. When he
wasn't practicing, he had to read romance novels and gay magazines. The
gay magazines were a stumbling block for him but a dose of her d**g and
telling him how much he just loved looking at the pictures and reading
the articles solved that problem.

Ned hadn't seen his father for three weeks and when he did was shocked.
Jim's hair was in a tight bun at the back of the head, completely gray
and wearing a pair of Olivia's thick horn rimmed glasses. It was obvious
that he was having a hard time seeing anything. His face was heavily
powdered with bright pink blush on his cheeks, vivid red lipstick and
heavy blue eye shadow. His eyebrows had been plucked out and black
pencil used to draw them back in high thin arches. He had gained at
another ten pounds and seemed to have aged twenty years. He was wearing
a bright yellow cap sleeved cotton blouse that hung untucked over his
expanded belly. The top of the blouse stuck out at the top with what
appeared to be sagging DD breasts. The hem of a white girdle could be
seen above the belt line of the pair of polyester lime green stretch
pants. The pants hugged his lower torso like a glove and he was wearing
a pair of black flats. Olivia was standing nearby giving him directions
as he clumsily moved around. A strong aroma of liniment and baby powder
filled the room.

"OMG! What have you done to my father?" Ned blurted out stunned.

"Ned come on over and meet your new momma Bertha Lou. Thought it'd be
more fitting to have your father looking like someone who would have such
a prissy sissy for a son. You'll have to give her a hand until she gets
use to wearing her glasses. Figure another couple of weeks before her
eyes completely adjust," Olivia said with a laugh.

















Mother-in-Law

By Cheryl Lynn

Paul Wimple's life was going nowhere. He just graduated from collage with a
degree in history. He was slight of build, had brown eyes and brown hair
hanging slightly past his collar. He wasn't smart enough to be a nerd and
with his scrawny looks seldom ever had a date in all of his twenty-three
years of life. Raised by a doting mother, he was a momma's boy. His
mother's influence was probably the cause for him dating then marrying Ethel
Primrose, the senior librarian at his collage.

They had met when he requested her help in finding a particular research
book. She was his height of five foot eight, was a very plump woman and
fifteen years his senior. She was very much like his mother in many respects
with her full figure and maturity. She dressed like his mother, usually a
skirt and semi-transparent frilly blouse with sensible heels. Ethel smelled
like his mother, a hint of baby powder with an overlapping aroma of lilacs.

Another thing that attracted him to Ethel was her foundation garments. Paul
had a fascination with his mother's heavy utilitarian bras and girdles. He
could see through her blouses that Ethel wore the very same type of bras and
from the smell of baby powder, knew she was wearing a girdle. He was too
timid to actually ask her out but very attracted to her. He longed to
snuggle his head between her large DD breasts as he use to do with his
mother and let all his cares evaporate.

As he had no social life, he spent much of his time in the library. At
first it was just a casual wave of greeting but as time went on Ethel began
to feel a bit sorry for him so began talking with him. It was, at first,
simple conversation asking how his day was going but over time she got him
to open up about his life. She felt sorry for him the more she learned
about Paul and started giving him hugs and brief kisses to the cheek. Over
his two years of going to the library, their relationship grew. Then at the
beginning of the Thanksgiving holidays when she found out he had no where to
go, they became much closer. His mother had passed away the previous year
when he was a sophomore, so she invited him to dinner with her mother.

Paul had a delightful time over Thanksgiving dinner with Ethel and her
sixty-************* mother. The home cooked food brought back many fond
memories of his mother. The fact that Ethel hovered over him, just like his
own mother had, made this meal the most enjoyable he had had in over a year.
The only draw back was Ethel's mother, Edna. They were almost carbon copies
of one another but Edna had a mean streak and very bossy. He was preparing
to leave when he received his first kiss from someone not his mother and it
was on the lips too. Ethel had walked him to the door and with his arms
stuck in his coat sleeves, she kissed him. The kiss broke with them both
blushing profusely.

"I'm sorry Paul, I don't know what came over me," she apologized.

"Oh no, Ethel, I....I...tha...that was my first kiss an,,,and it was wonderful,"
he stammered in reply.

"Your very first kiss?" she gasped.

"Ye....yes...well with a real....real girl..errrr...I mean with someone not related
to me," he answered blushing bright red.

From that point on they began dating. The dates were always chaste ending
with a hug and kiss at the front door. A lot of their dates were spent at
her mother's house which they shared. It was a simple wood frame three
bedroom two bath house built in the early fifties on a small wooded lot with
a white picket fence. She would invite him over to dinner and then sit on
the couch watching television. Edna would always be sitting in her rocker
working on some sewing or crocheting nearby. As those dinner dates became
more common, Edna would become more bossy and demanding.

"Paul, don't just sit there. When you first came here you were a guest but
Ethel tells me you're more like family, so get up and help Ethel clean up
the dishes. Here, put on this apron so you don't get your clothing messed,"
she ordered handing him a white organza lace frilled apron. He felt like a
fool wearing that frilly apron but didn't dare challenge her on it.

A couple of weeks later she handed him some other things to wear while
helping Ethel, a white with pink lace edged mop cap and pink rubber gloves.
Again he didn't have the gumption to argue with her. Ethel complained that
his help wasn't needed but Edna's insistence stopped her as well. After
that, Paul would automatically get up, put on his apron, mop cap, and rubber
gloves without complaint after each meal.

"What a puss, Ethel that poor excuse of a man is beneath you. He's young
enough to be your own son for goodness sakes. What you see in him I will
never understand," Edna said one night after he left.

"Momma, I know he's young but I really care for him. Look I'm thirty-eight
years old and I want a baby. You know as well as I do my chances of ever
getting married are slim and none. Paul really cares for me and I don't
care what you think. If he asks me, I'm going to marry him," she replied
breaking out in sobs.

Ooo

So here we are back in the present. Paul is married, living with his
mother-in-law and obtained employment as a junior high history teacher. His
home life was only marred by the presents of Edna. With their marriage, she
had become even more bossy and demanding. Now it was Paul who primarily
cooked all the meals since he got home long before Ethel. He was also the
one who did most of the house work. The first thing he did upon arriving at
the house was take off his jacket and tie replacing them with a frilly apron
and lace edged mop cap. For housework he wore cotton pinafore styled aprons
with lots of ruffles and fancy embroidered bibs. For cooking he wore
organza or chiffon aprons with lace hemming and bright bows tying in
elaborate bows in the back. Even his mop caps became frillier with colorful
floral lace detailing, all the embroidery and lace additions where thanks to
Edna's sewing skills which she used to further humiliate him.

Of all his chores, he didn't mind doing the laundry as it gave him a chance
to hand wash their intimates. He was very careful not to let Edna catch him
when he sniffed his wife's panties or ran his hands over her eighteen hour
bras and open bottomed girdles. He justified what he was doing by telling
himself that he was a young man with needs. In fact, he was getting sex
once a week.

Right after they were married and before he landed his job, he moved into
the Primrose house. Edna made him take the smallest bedroom in the house.
He protested that as man and wife they should share the same room but Edna
put up such a fuss, ranting and raving that he backed down. Unfortunately,
Ethel was brought up like Paul and could never disobey her mother. When
Edna said that once the consummation was finished that having sex once a
month would be all that she would tolerate, Ethel did balk. She wanted a
baby as soon as possible and knew that it would be hard for her at her age
to conceive.

"Mommy, I want a baby and having intercourse only once a month is not going
to do it. I won't stand for it," she argued.

"Ethel, baby, getting married doesn't mean you can become a harlot. I think
once a month is sufficient to perform your wifely responsibilities. However
since you want a baby so bad, I will allow you once a week but that's all.
This is still my house and you both will do what I say or move out," she
retorted.

Paul found it hard to believe that Ethel would do what her mother demanded
but went along with it. "With the both of us working, we'll be able to get
our own place in six or seven months then no more of Edna's shit. I can
sleep with my wife, no more of these fucking aprons and no more Edna," he
thought as he agreed to the demands.

After six months living under Edna's roof and strict rules, they found a
nice house. A small brick three bedroom in a safe but declining
neighborhood that stretched their finances but it was theirs. Both were
relieved to start having regular sex. Paul was happy so didn't argue when
she told him that he would still have to perform the housekeeping and
cooking chores. With their finances stretched to the limit, meals were
mostly potatoes, rice and pasta dishes. The only time they went out to
dinner was their every Sunday lunch at Edna's. As a result, Paul's waist
line and butt were getting bigger and bigger.

One Sunday over lunch Ethel was complaining about having to buy Paul new
pants and how tight their budget was. Edna perked up her ears hearing that
and with a sneer said, "Baby just give the little puss one of your older
girdles. There's a whole bunch of boxes of your stuff in the attic and
closet that he should be able to wear. A girdle should tuck in his tummy
and pull in his ass enough to get more use out of his slacks."

Edna's logic made sense to Ethel and that very evening had Paul trying on
some of her older girdles. Of course Paul vehemently opposed the idea
stating that men didn't were such garments. Edna told him to either wear
the girdles or they could move back in with mother. The threat of having to
move back in with Edna made him reach for the first girdle. It was white
nylon/spandex, open bottom with a high floral elastic waist. Two bright
white satin stripes crossed over the tummy for better control with attached
garter tabs. Of course the girdle wouldn't go over his boxers without
painfully bunching them up. To solve that problem she gave him a pair of
her smallest nylon Bali briefs. They were a translucent white with small
lace inserts at each hip. He complained again, saying that he was a man and
men don't wear panties.

She surprised him when she angrily spat, "Paul with that pathetic little
dick of yours you're not much of a man. You can't perform enough to get me
pregnant. I want a baby and so far you haven't given me one. Now stop your
complaining and put those panties and girdle on. When you manage to get me
with c***d then we can do something about getting you your pants back.
Here, use some of this baby powder to sprinkle inside your girdle, it will
help."

Paul felt like a fool standing before his obviously mad wife in a pair of
panties struggling to pull the girdle over his hips. "I like touching her
things but wearing them? No, I don't like this one bit but she's so mad
right now I'd better listen to her. I can't help it if our stomachs are so
big that it's hard to make the connection. Shit, I wouldn't mind having a
baby either to carry on my name but sometimes it isn't easy," he thought as
the tight girdle snapped around his waist. The crotch of the girdle pulled
painfully at his male bits and he reached in and tucked his penis down
between his legs hoping for a better feel.

"Here put these on. I'll show you how and I don't want to hear any
complaints. Hose are needed to keep the girdle's bottom from riding up,"
she ordered as she rolled one of the stockings into a donut. When he sat to
pull up the hose, he felt a painful pop as his testicles were forced back up
inside.

"Damn!" he yelped.

"Paul you know I can't stand the use of curse words. No more of that and
pay attention. You need to know how to roll up your stockings properly.
I'm not going to be doing it for you and woe unto you if you put a run in
them," she firmly stated. With the girdle and hose on, his old slacks
actually fit a bit loosely around his waist. The girdle pulled his butt in
but separated his ass cheeks making them look rounder.

"See mother was right. That girdle has made your slacks fit much better. I
bet we can get three or four months more wear out of them now. Okay, let's
go through this old box of mine and find you some more girdles and panties
in that size," she stated.

By the time they had gone through the entire box Paul had six girdles, two
in black, one red, one yellow, one baby blue and another pair of white ones.
She also found him a dozen pairs of Bali full brief cut panties in white,
candle glow and black. There were still a number of pieces of lingerie in
the box by the time they were finished. Ethel had him put the box in his
closet in case they would need the larger sizes in the future. He was still
blushing when they went to bed that night. After Ethel's demeaning comments
about his abilities, he tried his best not to ejaculate prematurely like he
usually did.

Paul had a hard time the next day when he left for school. He was wearing a
very tight and uncomfortable black girdle, hose and panties under his dark
slacks. He was so self-conscious about it that instead of walking around in
his class lecturing which made him comfortable and confident he sat behind
his desk. As a result of the distraction and sitting, his usually smooth
lecture was filled with hemming and hawing caused by his nervousness. Over
time this affected his classes' grades plus the stress made him eat even
more. The principal had called him into his office on more than one
occasion to discuss the falling grade point averages.

Walking out of his latest meeting with the principal, Paul fumed silently in
his head, "How can I tell Mr. McClendon that Ethel is making me wear girdles
and panties. I've already heard enough giggles and snide comments about the
weight gain. I don't need to add that to my problems. If only I could get
her to let me buy new clothing I wouldn't be in this fix. Every time I
bring it up, she bitches that I can't get her pregnant and until I do, I can
forget about new pants. Now she's set me up to see a doctor about my
problem. Shit, what makes her think I've got a problem?"

A month later he was called into Mr. McClendon's office. From the way he
was summoned into the office he knew that it was probably more bad news.
Last Friday the doctor told him his wife's inability to conceive was due to
his low sperm count. He also had a high estrogen level which was
contributing to his inability to conceive.

"Paul while the hormone level isn't off the charts, it's something to be
concerned about. Are you taking any kind of supplements or hormones that
you haven't told me about? No, well, certain body washes, teas and food
contain high levels of organic estrogen that could be affecting your system.
Especially body gels and washes containing green tea tree oils and such have
been shown to cause unusual breast growth in c***dren. Teas and other
organic products, like black cohosh tea, elevate estrogen levels. Those
hormone levels are one of the reasons you're developing a nice set of man
boobs. I am reluctant to give you testosterone injections to offset this at
the moment. The side effects can be dangerous, so watch what you eat and,
if nothing else, drop some weight and exercise. You're over two hundred
pounds and that certainly isn't helping," the doctor had told him.

If he had told the doctor that he was wearing a tight girdle every day that
forced his testicles up back inside and how hot they were, things might have
gone differently for him. He had worn a pair of grey fleece sweat pants and
school jersey to that appointment. Paul had borrowed Edith's loose fitting
clothing for that office visit. He went commando guessing he would have to
drop his underwear anyway.

When he told her what the doctor said she hit the ceiling and kicked him out
of their bedroom for two days. "I got married to have a baby. The least
you could do is give me one and now....and now the doctor says you can't do
it. What am I supposed to do now? Huh? If I have to, I'll find a real man
or check into a fertility clinic and get one implanted you worthless piece
of shit. Mother was right! You're a worthless little man. Ha! If she
only knew how damn little, now get out of my room. I don't want to be
around you," she screamed crying her eyes out.

He left the principal's office even more dejected and morose. His teaching
contract would not be renewed at the end of the semester. Additionally he
was told that his bad evaluations would probably make it very difficult for
him to get another teaching position.

"I'm very sorry Paul but maybe you can try in another state. I hear that
the State Department is looking for teachers to send overseas. Maybe you
should try there," Mr. McClendon had said.

Paul knew what he meant by that State Department reference. It meant that
no school district would consider hiring him. "I don't have any other
career. All I ever wanted to do was teach history. I can't go anywhere now
that I'm married and Ethel has over twenty years working at the college.
She'd never consent to move so close to retirement. I'm doomed. If she was
mad at the doctor's report, I don't know how she's going react when I give
her this news," he thought dejectedly.

That had taken place more than two months ago and Paul was still paying the
price. Ethel was so mad he had to move into the guest room for a month
before she let him back into their bed. Even then, their relationship was
cool. Now that the school term was coming to an end, their problems
escalated. Without a job they could no longer afford to pay the mortgage.
He had sent out hundred's of resumes during that time and didn't even get a
response from the State Department. With no other choice they had to put
the house up for sale. The only good thing to happen was that the house
sold quickly and didn't lose that much money.

In the meantime, the stress was making Paul eat more and sleep less. He
gained another thirty pounds with most of that weight going to his chest and
butt. His changing body only intensified his stress and embarrassment which
made him eat even more. He was now wearing the same size girdle as his wife
and his man boobs had gotten so big that it was becoming almost impossible
to hide them. Other than having smaller breasts than his wife's DD's, he
was almost her same size and build.

During the final days of his teaching career, he had to resort to wearing
his wife's slacks and some of her plainer looking blouses. It was her
suggestion to bind his breasts. That was uncomfortable but it worked. His
wife was a stickler for pinching pennies and considering their situation,
refused to give him money for new clothing or a hair cut.

"Paul, you've lost your job and my paycheck will not cover the mortgage much
less getting you new clothing. As it is we will have to move back in with
mother. We need every penny considering your future prospects of finding
work. I have some perfectly good clothing that's not overly feminine that
you can wear until our finances stabilize. So until then, you will wear
what I give you or...or you can leave. I'm at my wits end and don't know how
much more I can put up with. While I don't believe in divorce, I....I think
if you leave....I won't stop you," she tearfully said.

"What? I can't leave you! Where would I go? How would I live?" he replied
shocked.

His reply was not the one his wife expected. She expected him to declare
his undying love not the selfish response he had given. "Why you ingrate,
here I'm doing my best to keep everything together and all you can think
about is yourself. Mother was absolutely right. I most certainly married
beneath myself. You miserable little worm, you can't even give me the c***d
I so desperately want or satisfy my physical needs. I've put up with your
shit for a year and all you can think of is yourself. Well mister, I'm
taking mother's advice. No, I'm not going to divorce you like she wants but
you are going to pay for your insensitivity," she thought fuming. She
couldn't remember the last time she had been so mad.

Ooo

On June 1st they moved back into Edna's house. Again, he was given the
small guest room for his own, Edna's house, Edna's rules. With the current
state of his marital relations, he didn't object. He tried to argue when he
was handed his apron, mop cap and rubber gloves but to no avail. With
school over, he was stuck in the house with Edna. She was a firm believer
that idle hands were the devil's workshop. So Paul found himself doing all
the household chores. From sunup until sundown, he performed his chores
under the harsh direction of his mother-in-law.

That next morning as Edna watched Paul doing the morning dishes, she
examined him closely. "What a poor excuse of a man. I told my baby not to
marry him and that no good would come of it. Well now she knows that I was
right. Too damn bad she won't divorce him. Said she'd only do that if he
left her. Well too damn bad. I'll make things so hard for him here that he
will leave. Just look at him, hair down well below his collar and those
boobs of his are crying out for a bra. If they knew I put my estrogen pills
in his food every Sunday, my Ethel would be really mad but I'll be damned if
she gets pregnant by him. Those pink slacks of Ethel's almost make him look
like a girl from the back. That's it! Let's see how long it takes that
little prick to leave once I get started on him. If this doesn't work, then
Ethel will surely leave him," she devilishly thought as he finished wiping
down the counter tops.

"Paul you come with me. I'm sick of watching those man boobs of yours
swaying every which way. I won't have it. It's indecent!" she snapped.

"Wha....what do you mean Momma?" he replied shocked. He was painfully aware
of his man boobs. It seemed they were always interfering with his upper
body movements and if he bumped into something, they hurt like hell.

"You heard me, come along and I'll get something to fix your problem," she
demanded.

He meekly followed her into her bedroom where she told him to strip to the
waist. Paul blushed profusely but seeing the look on her determined face
did as ordered. With his shirt off, she quickly placed a cloth measuring
tape around his chest taking measurements. He was utterly confused as she
left the room. When she returned his face went from crimson to ashen white.
Dangling from her hand was a dozen bras.

"Here these are your size. Now put this one on and let me see how it fits.
Nothing worse than an ill fitting bra," she stated handing him a black
Playtex cross your heart bra.

"Momma, you can't be serious?" he said in shock. Since his marriage, she
demanded that he call her momma.

"You either put this on or pack up and leave. I don't really care which you
chose but chose you will," she angrily replied.

Forty-five minutes later a very humbled Paul was back mopping the kitchen
floor wearing his new "B" cup bra. The black bra was a match for the girdle
he was wearing as you could faintly see it through the pink slacks. He had
spent over thirty minutes just learning how to fasten the four hook and eye
closure and adjusting the shoulder straps. Due to his increased weight, he
had to hook it in front then pull it into proper position behind his back.
He had never been as embarrassed as when he had to bend over and tuck his
man boobs into the cups of the bra. As he stood before the mirror replacing
his white cotton blouse, he could easily see the bra's outline as his flesh
overlapped the band at his sides. The blouse fit much better now that the
bra supported his boobs.

Ethel had a good laugh when she came home and told him that it was an
improvement before heading to her room to change. Later he tried to argue
with her about what her mother had made him do. She was a bit sympathetic
but in the end agreed with her mother's decision.

"Paul, you know the rules. If you don't like them leave," she replied
getting tired of his whining. "If you can't stand up to mother then why
should I have to do it for you? Show some balls for a change," she thought.

Edna was upset that Paul had actually gone along with her demand that he
wear a bra. "That snit, I thought for sure when I handed him that bra he
would have had the courage to tell me to go to hell and leave but he didn't.
If he had done that he would have gotten some respect. Well, if that didn't
get him to pack up then maybe tomorrow he'll change his mind," she thought.

The next morning after Ethel left for work, Edna was again inspecting her
worthless son-in-law. He was wearing a pair of Ethel's old white stretch
polyester pants with flare cuffs, the imprint of a white girdle obvious
along with that of his white bra under a pale pink with floral overlay
blouse. He was also wearing a pink organza ruffled apron, white mop cap
with pink lace trim and pink rubber gloves waxing the dining room table.

"Paul follow me, I'm tired of looking at that unruly mop of hair. It needs
the split ends trimmed," she stated.

Meekly he followed her into the kitchen where she had him sit at the table.
"Wait here I need to get a few things before I start, and take off that
cap," she ordered.

For his part Paul wasn't sure how he felt about Edna working on his hair. It
was overly long and been bothering him. It was always a tangled mess and
badly in need of a cut. He would have preferred going to a barber but
couldn't afford it. "I don't know what kind of barber she is but if I can
get this mop off my ears and neck I'll be happy," he thought.

Any thoughts of happiness disappeared as soon as she came back. She placed
a large pink plastic tray down on the table. Tied to the handle of the tray
were several brightly colored nylon scarves. It contained a blow dryer,
wide assortment of bristle rollers, pink plastic pins, hairnets in various
colors, various combs, brushes, scissors and electric shears. Along side
the tray was a bottle of shampoo labeled "Green Tea and Lavender," a bottle
of lavender scented conditioner, jar of pink setting gel and a round
magnifying mirror. Before he could utter any objections, she tied a
translucent baby blue plastic cape around his neck and put the mirror in
front of him so he could see everything she was doing. All he could do was
look nervously from one item to another hoping that most of what he saw
wasn't for him.

Edna didn't spend a lot of time cutting away the split ends taking off very
little of the length. When he realized she was using the shears to remove
his sideburns, it was too late to argue. With his hair cut, she marched him
over to the sink and began a thorough shampooing and conditioning of his
hair. She washed and conditioned it three time all the while telling him
that he should be ashamed for letting it get to be such a disheveled mess.
She blotted his hair dry then made him sit back down at the table. Grabbing
a big gob of the setting gel she began messaging it into his hair and scalp.
Again, he tried to object but it was really too late to stop her.

"Momma what are you doing? I don't...." he started to complain but didn't let
him finish. She told him to let her do what she was doing or he could pack
up and leave.

Having the gel put into his hair was one thing. However when she combed out
a section of hair, telling him to give her one of the bristle rollers and
pink pins, he gasped in shock not quite believing his ears. A hard tap to
the top of his skull with the comb left him gasping like a guppy and no
words left his mouth. Edna made sure to roll the bristles real tight and
didn't give an after thought as to how hard she shoved the pins to secure
them in place. Paul groaned and moaned but sat compliant as she filled his
head with the rollers.

The pins had hurt and the bristles of the rollers were digging painfully
into his scalp but the hot air from the blow dryer was worse. He wanted to
get up and slap his mother-in-law silly for embarrassing him like this but
the fear of being kicked out and the fact that she probably could kick his
ass stopped him.

"Why is she doing this to me? It's bad enough she has me wearing a bra and
doing all the work around here but this....this is going too far. If I had
anywhere to go or even some money I'd be out of here in a heart beat but I
don't. I'm too ashamed to run anywhere for help looking and dressing like
this. All I have to wear are Ethel's old clothes," he lamented.

With his hair dry, she carefully placed a pink hairnet over the rollers and
tied it at the back of the head. Next, she selected a pink and white
checkered shiny rayon scarf and tied it over the net in a cute bow just
under his chin.

"Your hair was such a mess I want you to leave that just the way it is until
tomorrow morning. I'll comb it out for you then," she said removing the
cape.

"Momma, no, please, I can't let Ethel see me looking like this," he said
tears forming at the corners of his eyes.

"This is my house and my rules. You either do exactly as I tell you or you
can leave. The choice is yours. I'm warning you, if you decide to stay
then I don't want to hear a single solitary complaint, understand? Since
you argued with me, you can keep those rollers in your hair tomorrow as
well. Now get back to your chores, we've wasted enough time already," she
snapped.

When Ethel came home she had a good laugh at her husband's expense. It was
the first time in ages that she had had such a good laugh and she surprised
herself by how much she enjoyed it. "OMG! First she has him wearing a bra
and now today, this. I can't believe what a wimpy husband I married much
less wanting a c***d by him. I really should have listened to mother. Oh
well, I have an appointment with the fertility clinic Saturday. Guess I
better call and tell them that I'm opting for artificial insemination. I
married him for better or worse and I think I like the worse part better.
It's so much more entertaining," she thought as she went to change.

Paul was hoping for support and help when his wife arrived but all he saw
was scorn in her eyes. Dejected and forlorn he spent a miserable night
trying to sleep with those damn rollers in his hair. "Why did I agree to
let her have total control over our finances when we married? She was so
nice back then and knew more about it than I did. Even if I divorced her I
wouldn't get a dime because of that prenuptial. Now look at me, no money,
at least none she will give me and I'm being treated like a...a sissy," he
moaned into his pillow then turned over on his back. His breasts even
encased in a bra were too painful to lie on. Lying on his back didn't help
either as the bristles and pins dug into his scalp. It was a very restless
and distressful night.

That next morning when he was doing the hand washing, Edna saw him catch a
pair of panties on a nail. "Heavens no, that just won't do," she screamed
at him. Soon thereafter his nails had been filed into neat ovals, buffed
and painted a lustrous lilac.

By afternoon his scalp was itching and irritated so much that he begged her
to remove them telling her he would do anything. By the time his wife came
home, he was wearing a pair of skin tight lilac Capri's, pink chiffon
translucent blouse with billowing full sleeves and lacy cravat and a pair of
black ballerina flats. His black bra was easily seen through the blouse and
the outline of his girdle through the pants. His hair was a mass of wavy
curls and smelled heavily of hairspray. It was beyond any doubt the most
mortifying day in his life.

That first month living with his mother-in-law was horrible for Paul. To
make matters worse his wife didn't step in to help and seemed to be enjoying
his plight. Edna for her part was enjoying herself more than ever before.
Turning her daughter's worthless husband into a total pansy was more than
worth the trouble. It was a bother teaching him how to put his hair up in
curlers every night and keeping them in until just before his wife came
home. Teaching him how to do a manicure and pedicure were worth the effort
though. When she made him answer the door for the deliveryman still in his
curlers, dark green nylon head scarf, wearing skin tight florescent green
satin pedal pushers and thin see through white short-sleeved blouse, the
look on Paul's face was priceless. It made all the bother well worth it.

Edna still found it puzzling that any man would put up with what she was
doing to Paul. His acceptance, though reluctant, reaffirmed in her mind
that he must have been a born sissy. Since Ethel would only divorce him if
he left, she only started doing those things to get him to pack up and
leave. After seeing his reaction to the deliveryman, she decided to step it
up. There had to be a point when he would finally rebel and get the hell
out and she was determined to find that point.

She decided that the next step would be to get Paul to wear makeup full
time. Not just any makeup but heavy makeup like she wore, thick foundation
with too much powder, bright green or blue eye shadow, get rid of the brows
and paint them on with black pencil and eyeliner. Heavy mascara, brick red
blusher and rich vibrant red for the lips finished off with a heady sweet
floral perfume to complete his look. She figured the best way to get him to
agree would be to make him go out in public. Over his stiff objections, she
made him go to the grocery, d**g store and dry cleaners. After each of
those adventures, he would come back in tears and blushing fiercely. He
balked and complained bitterly but in the end succumbed to her demands.
Paul had to agree that if he looked more like a woman the less attention he
would draw. With that stepping stone accomplished it didn't take any effort
on her part to get him to remove all his body hair including his pubic hair.
He almost fainted when she demanded to physically inspect his nude body to
make sure he didn't miss any stray hair.

After another month Edna was actually feeling pleased with herself. Paul
had the same body shape as Ethel except for his "B" cup man boobs. Only now
Ethel was much thinner thanks to a strict diet and daily exercise at the
college gym. She had lost more than fifty pounds over the past several
months. All she had to do was lose another ten and she would qualify for
insemination. He could wear all her old clothing with makeup and hair could
pass as her "uglier" daughter.

"This started out as a means to get rid of the wimp but now that I have seen
what I have accomplished, I'm not so sure about losing him. I only lift a
finger to make afternoon tea otherwise he does everything around here. As
far as those boobs go, all I have to do is give him more of my hormones in
his afternoon tea. He's a heck of a lot cheaper than paying for a maid and
I'm certainly too old to do all that back breaking work. Now that I think
about it, I like having him around the house," she mused one afternoon as
the tea pot began whistling.

From the beginning when they moved back into the house, Paul was allowed his
weekly bedroom visits. That is unless Ethel was mad at him about something.
As he became more feminine, plus the fact that his dick was too small to
enter her, left her unsatisfied. For awhile they tried it doggie style but
as his stomach became bigger and bigger that didn't work. By the time they
moved back to her mother's, there wasn't a position they tried that worked.
They were just too fat. One night in utter frustration, she grabbed him by
the ears and forced his head under her stomach and into her snatch.

"Eat me you worthless piece of shit. I'm sick and tired of being frustrated
by you. If you can't give me a baby then you can lick it. Now get busy or
you can forget ever coming back into my bedroom," she had screamed. It was
the first time she had ever talked dirty and the first anyone had done that
to her. She wasn't sure where the language and demand came from but, to her
surprise, thoroughly delighted in it. Later, she wasn't so sure if it was
the lust or the power she felt that gave her such pleasure. In either case
she decided she wanted more.

Paul of course didn't like that change of events and complained but it did
him no good. One night, several weeks later after another one of his
complaints, she tossed him her panties and told him to just whack it off.
She had no idea where that came from either but fascinated, watched as he
did it. She never thought he would really do that but after watching him
rubbing his pathetic penis until he was dark red in the face, covered in
sweat and barely leaving a wet spot on the panties when he finished sent
chills up her spine. Thus, another weekly ritual was born that carried over
to when they moved back to Momma's.

One Sunday while they had tea and Paul was in another room cleaning, Ethel
mentioned that she had given up all hope that Paul would make her pregnant.
When Edna asked her why, she blushing fiercely, told her of their bedroom
sessions.

"Oh my lands, your father never would have done something like that for me.
It sounds gross but you seem to have enjoyed it," Edna said.

"Momma, please, I don't want to know about you and daddy. It feels
fantastic though, I have to admit. I can't believe I didn't make him do
that much sooner. Oh by the way, next Saturday I'm having my artificial
insemination. Momma I'm finally going to have my baby but don't tell him,"
she shyly replied.

Paul sat in front of the bathroom mirror carefully drawing in thin arched
brows. When he first agreed to wear makeup, it was supposed to be for when
he had to go out in public. As he sat at her vanity for his first makeup
lesson, Edna surprised him by shaving off his eyebrows. Without eyebrows he
had to paint them in. If he painted them in, then he had to wear full
makeup or he would draw undue attention if someone should drop by. At least
that was the logic Edna used on him. So now he had to put on a fresh face
every morning, touch it up frequently during the day then spend time
removing it. Since he was wearing makeup, he now had to perform a morning
and evening facial preparation. Edna allowed him to remove it before Ethel
came home but on one occasion, she came home early feeling ill from her
pregnancy and caught him.

When his wife saw him in full makeup, she looked shocked then her expression
quickly turned into resignation. "This certainly isn't the man I fell in
love with. How could I have been so stupid? My need to have a baby just
overwhelmed my brain I guess. Well nothing for it now but admit I made a
horrible mistake. If I had gotten artificially inseminated back before we
got married I wouldn't be in this position now. Married to an unemployable
man who couldn't get me pregnant and turned out to be nothing but a big fat
sissy. I'm pregnant and don't need him. So there is nothing left for me
to do but get a divorce," she thought as she went to her room.

Later at the dinner table she told Paul of her decision to get a divorce.
He sat with a fork half lifted up to his face, stunned. "Ethel...you..you
can't be serious. I'm...I'm your husband. What am I going to do? None of my
old clothes fit. I don't have a job. How will I live? Yo....you
can't..can't leave me like this," he stammered.

"As much as I hate the idea Paul, you have given me no choice. Look what
you let my mother do to you. You couldn't give me the baby I wanted and put
yourself into a position where no one will hire you to teach. I can't even
begin to tell you just how much you have disappointed me. I will see a
lawyer tomorrow and start the paper work," she replied with a single tear
falling from her eye. She was actually very upset at having to file for
divorce and may have changed her mind but Paul's selfish response settled
the issue.

Edna was at first thrilled that her daughter was finally moving in the right
direction. "About time she came to her senses," she thought then realized
that with him gone who would keep the house and cook the meals. Now that
Ethel was pregnant who would have to pick up the additional work load? She
was in no condition to change dirty diapers much less do all the household
chores.

"I have an idea," she almost shouted to the two teary eyed people sitting at
the table.

"What?" Ethel and Paul said almost as one.

"Ethel what's wrong having Paul stay with us, not as your husband but my
housekeeper? He can work in return for his room and board plus I'll give
him some spending money. Of course, if you have any objections or he
refuses to obey my rules, it would be a shame to just kick him out into the
street," she said.

"I...I don't know mother. I don't think I would like being reminded about all
that has happened but agree it would be very difficult for him out there,"
Ethel replied thoughtfully as Paul looked on confused.

"Look baby, I can fix that, trust me and with the baby coming we're going to
need the help. I certainly cannot do all that will be necessary," she said
smiling from ear to ear.

"I didn't take your advice before and look where it got me, so if Paul
agrees, I think I can live with that," Ethel replied.

"Paul you have a choice to make. You can pack your bags and leave or you
can stay on here as my housekeeper. If you decide to stay you will have to
obey all my rules, no matter what, and....and agree to legally change your
name," Edna said turning her attention to him.

"Change my name? Whatever for?" he replied puzzled.

"Ethel doesn't want to be reminded that you were married, so a name change
would help. Hearing Paul every time we addressed you, wouldn't help, don't
you agree?" she answered.

After some more discussion, Paul agreed to stay, change his name and become
the housekeeper. It was the only work he could obtain and the idea of
moving out like he was now was unthinkable. His pay wouldn't be much, only
$300 per month but in time he could save up enough to leave. Ethel still
had misgivings but agreed to try it for awhile.

The first thing Edna did was contact a lawyer to write up an employment
contract and name change documents. When Paul saw what she had done, he
came very close to not signing the documents. What upset him was not the
contract which spelled out all they had agreed to but the name change. She
wanted him to change his name to Emma Joyce Wimple. Edna said she picked
that name because it was so far removed from his real name that it wouldn't
get Ethel upset or bring back bad memories. Since his employment hinged on
changing his name Paul finally signed both documents figuring he could
change it back later. He also signed the irreconcilable divorce papers
which under the State's laws automatically granted the request.

He should have read the one year automatic renewing employment contract more
closely as it had a penalty clause. This clause stated that if he left his
position prior to fulfilling the full year, he had to reimburse Edna for the
time remaining for room and board at the rate of $1250 per month. When he
found out about it, he was told that part of his salary was considered a
rental agreement for the room and board thus the penalty was justified. It
was also money he didn't have nor would have. Paul was stuck having to do
whatever Edna demanded for a full year. With that understanding, Edna went
quickly to work on Emma Joyce.

The first thing on her agenda was to make even more changes to his
appearance. She purchased five uniforms for him. They were simple maid's
"A" line dresses in cotton, three grey, one black and one pink, white pin
stripped with white three quarter length sleeves trimmed in stiff white
folded cuffs and white double breasted collars. To go with the uniforms she
got two pairs of square toed black patent leather three inch stack heeled
shoes. He was already wearing Ethel's old panties, girdles, bras so giving
him her old slips, camisoles wouldn't be any big deal. The only thing extra
she needed would be support hose instead of regular nylons. When he wasn't
working, she figured he could wear Ethel's old dresses, skirts and blouses
which no longer fit her thinner figure.

The next item was to take him to Betty's Cut and Curl salon for a new hair
style. Emma Joyce objected when Edna gave him his uniforms but gave in.
When she told him of his pending appointment, he vehemently refused until
she was almost pushing him out the door telling him he would hear from her
lawyer. The idea of having to pay her a full year's of room and board
changed his mind. Soon his brown hair was dyed a dull black with grey
streaks making him look much older. As punishment for giving her a hard
time, she had his ears pierced and one inch ceramic nails painted a deep red
on his fingers. His hair was pulled back in a sever bun at the back of his
head. The last item on her agenda was to make him take one of her estrogen
replacement pills with each meal telling him they were multivitamins. She
also informed him that he would be wearing full makeup from the time he
arose until he went to bed.

There was another clause in the contract put in at Ethel's insistence. It
basically said that after three months, they would get together and review
how well Emma Joyce had performed. If Ethel said that seeing him still
brought up bad memories, he would be let go without penalty. If she did
that Paul would be shown the door with at best $900 to his name. With the
changes Edna had forced upon him, he could only do that dressed as a woman.
Paul as much as he hated being Emma Joyce and being the housekeeper, had a
strong incentive to do exactly as Edna demanded and that was to become Emma
Joyce both mentally and physically. The only difference between Ethel's and
the penalty clause was that Paul wouldn't owe Edna anything but the results
would be the same. Cast out with no where to go, looking like a fat old
woman and without financial wherewithal. A prospect that was completely
unappealing to him.

To assist him in getting into character Edna spent the first two months of
his employment teaching him how to act like the woman he appeared to be.
She taught him a shuffling, sloped shouldered walk, how to manage his skirts
and hold his arms and hands. She gave him women's magazines to read aloud
using a softer, higher pitched voice. To add to his humiliation and older
appearance, she made he use reading glasses with jewel encrusted frames
which hung from his neck attached to a golden chain. Until his eyes
adjusted to the lenses, he had a difficult time doing his reading
assignments. After several weeks he actually needed the glasses to read.

All the magazines were published for the older mature woman. He learned
more about menopause and women's heath than he wanted to know along with an
older woman's fashion sense. As there would be a baby in the household
soon, he read a lot of baby care and nutritional books. By the end of the
second month of intense training, he naturally spoke in a soft feminine
voice and his body language was that of an older woman.

As he stood before the full length mirror slightly stooped which made him
look an inch shorter with sagging flat torpedo shaped breasts. Over the past
two months he had added a full cup size to his bras. The image reflected
back was of an old woman. Dull black grey streaked hair pulled back into a
tight bun, the heavy makeup, wearing a knee length pink maid's dress with
dark tan support hose clinging loosely to fat legs and the aroma of lilacs
and baby powder filling his nose. He was not even thirty but looked and
acted like he was in his fifties.

As Paul progressed in his studies along with his appearance, Ethel became
less and less bothered at seeing him. Occasionally, she would frown at a
stray memory of what once was but quickly shook it off. When it was time
for the three month review, she told her mother that it was unnecessary.

"Momma, I really don't want us to sit down with...Emma Joyce. It would only
bring up bad memories. All I see is the housekeeper now, so let's keep it
that way," she said.

Edna was delighted with her daughter's decision. "Now I can move along with
my plans for that pansy. Hearing what a good pussy eater he had been sent
thrills up my spine I haven't had in years. Something no one has ever done
for me before and I'm pretty sure that I can finally find out if it is as
good as Ethel said it was," she thought.

That next afternoon, Edna took off all her clothing and pulled on an old
worn pink terry bathrobe and sat on the edge of her bed. "Emma Joyce, get
in here and bring your pedicure set with you," she called. Edna was both
excited and somewhat self-conscious about what she was planning on doing so
kept the robe wrapped tightly around her obese body. When he arrived he was
a bit surprise seeing her only wearing a ratty robe. He wasn't happy when
he looked at his own fat body and the notion that Edna might reveal her much
older wrinkled body to him was disturbing.

He was on his knees cleaning up after polishing her toes when she grabbed
the bun at the back of his head and pulled his face into her crotch. Edna
had wanted this experience to be subtle with him doing it slowly but she was
frightened and decided to force the issue before she chickened out. She
spread her thick thighs, exposing her aged pussy with its thick matting of
grey crinkly hair, forced his face into that bush and clamped her thighs
tightly around his head.

"Okay Emma Joyce, it's time you demonstrated that tongue of yours where you
know it will do me the most good. You do me just like you did for my baby
and I may give you a chance to breathe. Now let me feel it," she demanded.

Paul tried to push away, the smell was awful and her demand made his stomach
churn. Her grip on his head and powerful thighs made his efforts fruitless.
His nose was buried deep into her thick hair, his lips pressing against the
dry flesh between her legs. He couldn't dislodge himself and breathing was
most difficult. When he did manage to take in a breath, the strong smell of
urine and sardines invaded his nose. He quickly realized that he was
trapped and suffocating. With great reluctance, he probed between sagging
folds of flesh. Sticking his tongue in as far as he could and began
wiggling it around like he remembered Ethel wanted. Unlike his ex-wife,
this hole was dry and didn't taste good. It took all his will power with
his eyes squeezed tightly shut just to keep from *****ing. When the tip of
his tongue finally found that special spot he felt something wet wash over
his tongue. At first he thought she was finally getting wet but the acidic
taste told him that she squirted out some urine instead. His stomach
****ted and bile began running up his throat but managed to swallow it back
down. Finally after what seemed like a year, Edna moaned out loudly,
squeezed his head tightly with her thighs and released him from her grip.
He fell onto his back gasping, his lips and tongue rubbed raw and his
stomach cramping painfully.

As he got up to rush to the bathroom to try and get the taste and smells of
her off him, she said, "Oh my lands, Ethel was so right. I've never
experienced anything so mind blowing in my life. Emma Joyce, get used to
it, you're going to be doing this a lot more often."

Lying on her bed getting over the most sexually satisfying event in her life
Edna was thinking, "I can't believe that was so mind blowing. If that was
so good what else have I been missing all my life? All Cedric ever did,
bless his soul, was get on top, satisfy himself then snore like a saw mill.
I'm going to have to do some investigating to see what I've been missing.
Maybe that big priss will be good for something other than performing oral
sex."

Meanwhile, Paul was sick both physically and mentally as he kneeled over the
commode by the experience. "I can't believe she made me do that. It was
disgusting and I have never felt so violated. What's this? Oh shit, it's
that old woman's pubic hairs. I'm going to toss my cookies again,
ugggghhh," he thought.

After that experience Paul dreaded the coming of each new day. Every
afternoon, she called him into her room where he had to repeat his
performance. He had tried to refuse the second time by pretending he didn't
hear her when she called. She was so mad when he didn't come in; she
grabbed a belt and found him sweeping the kitchen floor. It didn't take
that many stinging slashes to get him to follow her back into her room.
That first week it was just a wham-bam, thank you ma'am type of oral sex
with Edna wearing her robe and the belt at her side. There was absolutely
no sexual thrill for Paul. Wearing tight girdles and taking hormones for so
long had effectively castrated him. The only thing he received was a
nauseas feeling and a couple of hours after without having to put up with
any of her shit.

He spent that time sitting on the sofa watching afternoon game shows,
clasping his churning stomach and drinking a small glass of Edna's sherry.
He would have loved to swallow the entire bottle drinking to oblivion but
she would severely punish such action. At least the small glass that he
took removed her taste from his mouth. His daily performances continued
until Ethel took her maternity leave.

With the baby due changes were made in the household. The biggest change
was to Paul's room. It was redecorated into a baby's nursery. A girl's
nursery with soft pink walls decorated with fairy land characters. A
changing table, bassinette, playpen and shelving for all the necessary
supplies were put into the room. With all the new baby furniture there
wasn't room for Paul's bed, so a cot took its place. The crib would be in
Ethel's room until she went back to work then it would be moved into the
room.

The plan to turn Paul's room into a nursery had been Edna's idea. It was
her plan to use that as an excuse to move Emma Joyce into her room. With
only a cot to sleep on, Ethel would see the logic of having Paul move in
with her mother. Not getting her afternoon delight for over a month had
left Edna very frustrated and with Paul moving in would solve that. Paul
told them he would be happy to sleep on the cot and be nearer the baby. He
guessed what Edna was up to and didn't want any part of that but lost the
argument. Two weeks before the baby was born, he moved into her room.

He was standing behind Edna who was sitting on her vanity stool while he
brushed her grey hair. They were both wearing flannel nightgowns with white
ruffled lace trim, his was pink with small floral imprint and she a blue
with small white polka dots. The other big change came with his move. In
addition to being the housekeeper he was now Edna's personal maid. She made
him tend to her in the bath, assist in her dressing and grooming. She also
had him between her legs every night.

Edna had always been a prudish woman until she discovered the joys of oral
sex. She had made some discreet inquiries and now owned a very realistic
eight inch vibrating bright pink dildo. She was still a prude to some
extent and couldn't bring herself to use it but making Emma Joyce do it for
her was acceptable. After Paul had used his tongue and saliva to get her
wet, she had him take the dildo and use it on her until she reached climax.
Paul hated doing that almost as much as he did giving her oral satisfaction.
It was humiliating to just hold a realistic dick that was way bigger than
his had ever been but it was mortifying to have to actually use it. What
little remained of his masculinity was destroyed by that act. It only drove
home the fact that he was a man but completely unable to perform as one.

As he brushed her hair, Paul realized that he would never be able to leave.
He was permanently stuck being the housekeeper/maid no matter how much money
he managed to save. None of the factors that made him sign those documents
would change. He sighed, shook his head in resignation and tried to imagine
what the new baby would bring. A baby wouldn't be judgmental and in time
maybe give him the love that was missing in his miserable life.

The End





































CHASTE PANSY
by Throne

Arnold had been under his wife Randi's thumb right from the start. While
they were dating and then after they wed, she had led him around by the
nose, using the lure of her voluptuous body and the power of her
manipulative mind to control him. There had been some sex but she always
got him overexcited, so that he would ejaculate before he got into her or
immediately after entering. Then she tricked him into making a bet with
her. When she said that women could go longer without penetrative sex
than men, he took the bait. Arnold suggested a wager in which whoever
gave in first and asked for real sex would be the loser. She acted
reluctant but accepted. The stakes were that the winner could dictate
how the other served them in bed. He saw it as an opportunity to finally
take control of their sex life.

But Randi was smart and sly. She began wearing the most seductive
outfits she could find. When he was behind her she would find some
excuse to bend over, showing off her wide ass. If he was in front of her
she would lean forward to display her impressive cleavage. Soon he was
falling apart. All he could think about was getting some relief from his
unmet needs. She would simply smile and say, "Are you asking me for sex,
darling? Do you want to put your dick inside me and feel how soft and
warm and wet I am? Hmmm?" That, as she had calculated, made him even
more horny.

Eventually he tried to negotiate a compromise. She acted disinterested
at first, letting him get so distracted that he wasn't thinking straight.
Then she said, "Well, I'll consider meeting you in the middle if you
agree to try something special." It turned out to be a chastity tube.
He was beyond desperate and said, "Whatever you want. I'll put it on if
that'll get you to reconsider." Once she had the device locked over his
penis he wanted to discuss their situation. She pointed out that she had
only said she would 'consider' some sort of settlement. When he said
that she should remove the tube, she noted that they hadn't set a time
limit on making him wear it.

The yearning husband cracked after two weeks in the device. His wife
decided that he could begin pleasing her in bed by using his mouth on her
pussy. Arnold had never done that before, hadn't wanted to. But she
reminded him that a bet was a bet and he had to pay for losing. With her
instructing him he was soon satisfying her several times a week, while
his own desires were still unfulfilled. He finally got onto his knees,
hands clutched in front of him, and begged for release from the tube.
She told him that she would be happy to do that, but only if he agreed to
further terms. With tears forming in his supplicating eyes, he asked
what else he had to do for her. Randi smiled and told him that she
wanted to play dress-up with him. Feeling defeated, and imagining that
she just wanted to put him into funny boxer shorts or maybe a butler's
vest and bow tie, he promised to wear whatever she said.

To his shocked surprise, she produced several pairs of panties and told
him to pick which one he wanted to put on. With no other way to go, he
reluctantly chose the purple ones, which seemed slightly less feminine
than the yellow or pink. Once he had them on and his wife had enjoyed a
hearty laugh at his expense, he requested that she finally free his
penis. She stuck out her lower lip and said, "Awww, do I have to? I
mean, the bet is still in effect. And I didn't say WHEN I would pop your
cage. So how about if you do something nice for my girl parts with your
mouth. After that I might... maybe... be ready to set your little dick
free. He sighed heavily and told her, "Yes, dear." Before they got into
bed she took a camisole top with spaghetti straps from the top of her
dresser and held it out to him, daring Arnold with her expression to
refuse it. His shoulders sagged and he lowered his eyes, which made him
look even more defeated. She said, "Go on, Arnie. Put on your pretty
new cami. Let's see how that sexy red looks with those colorful
panties."

He slipped it over his head and let it fall into place. She made him
hold its hem between his thumbs and forefingers, and even take a cute
curtsey. Next he had to do a slow-motion twirl. At last she lay back on
the bed, atop the covers. She was wearing a sleeveless top and short
skirt. Her husband had to get onto the foot of the bed, reach under that
tiny skirt, and work her panties down over her full thighs. She smiled
at him, at how girlish he appeared, and at how deeply he had fallen under
her power. She suggested, "Instead of lifting my skirt, why don't you
slip your head under it. I think that would look cute, don't you? With
your head under there, kind of bobbing up and down as you eat my pussy?"
In a muted voice he said, "Yes, Randi." She told him, "Then get to it,
Arnie. Or should I call you... Annie?" She chuckled. He blushed.

The shamed man wriggled forward on his belly and gingerly raised the
front of her skirt, getting his head under it and letting it drop. He
still hadn't developed a taste for pussy (so to speak) but because it was
his main form of sexual contact, he did respond to it, becoming wildly
aroused. Of course, he couldn't get an erection inside that little tube,
so the pleasure of being aroused was tempered by the discomfort of having
his dick trapped and squeezed that way. He lapped her dutifully while
she shifted her hips from side to side, kneaded her heavy breasts, and
moaned, contentedly at first and then with mounting pleasure. She made
him slow down, speed up, and than slack off again, prolonging her fun to
its limits. At last she soared up to a loud wet orgasm, after which he
had to gently lick her through an unhurried descent. She lay there, her
breathing returning eventually to normal, and then suggested, "Why don't
you look in the bottom of my closet, Annie? There's something there to
put on your little feet."

Unhappily he rose and opened the closet door. On the floor inside were a
pair of slippers covered in white faux fur, with open toes and two inch
heels. He was so humbled by then that she didn't even have to order him
to put them on. He simply did it. Randi said, "Walk around a bit. Get
used to them. Let's see how they shape your legs. Oh, so pretty. Be
sure to use feminine body language when you're wearing nice things like
those. And you'll have to start shaving your legs. And your crotch.
And underarms. And chest. In other words, everywhere. I know you have
hardly any body hair to begin with but, if we're going to play dress-up -
- and we are -- I want you looking the part. Right?" He muttered, "Yes,
darling." She sounded displeased when she said, "That's not the attitude
I want to hear. You need to appreciate all the effort I'm putting into
the new you. Now let's hear it again... but happier." His male ego
shriveled up inside as he put on a cheerful face, clapped his hands
lightly, and said, "Thank you, Randi. I'm glad you're doing so much to
help me with my... new look." "Much better," she congratulated. "Don't
you dare go back to being a Dour Dora. Or a Sour Suzie."

"Now what else can I do for you? What do YOU think?" she mused, putting
the tip of one finger under her chin. He thought desperately, trying to
figure out what she wanted to hear. Arnold just wanted to stay on her
good side and get this over with. He would be happy when he could get
out of those awful feminine things he was wearing. Randi suddenly
brightened and said, "I know. We can't play dress-up without putting
some yummy make-up on you. Not too much. I don't want you to be able to
pass for a girl. I prefer you being my pansy husband, who never pesters
me for sex but is always ready to snack on my pussy. And who speaks in a
soft voice. And uses his best ladylike body language. Right?" Stricken
by the idea of all that, he nevertheless responded, "Yes, dearest. I
want whatever you want." What he really wanted was to be let out of that
tube, but this appeared to be the path he had to follow to gain release.
She turned to her dresser top fussed with the selection of cosmetics
gathered at one end of it.

After a moment she settled on clear lip gloss with just a hint of pink in
it, tweezers to thin his eyebrows, and a pale blue eye shadow for his
upper lids. Randi made him take a few tentative steps in those slippers
and sit on her scroll-backed chair while she worked quickly and
efficiently to transform her husband into her... what? Gal pal? Lesbian
love slave? Sissy serving girl? Probably a combination of the three.
It was wonderful how well he had responded to all her manipulations and,
especially, to that chastity toy. Nothing is better for bending a man to
a woman's will than locking up his masculine pride and joy, even if it's
rather small like Arnold's. When she was done she made him turn his head
and examine himself in the mirror. He gasped at the sight of himself
looking both familiar and different. His eyebrows were subtly reshaped,
his lips reflected the light, and his eyes had a seductive bedroom look.
It was so unmanly, especially with that cami top on. He pouted until she
quickly reminded him to maintain his happy face.

Arnold forced another smile, glanced at her, and said, "Thank you, Randi.
I... like this so much. It's... a good look for me." She said, "Well,
if you like it so much, let's just keep you that way. And maybe we
should postpone letting you out of that chastity. I mean, wouldn't it be
silly, for you to have such a lovely look and then all of a sudden your
silly little dick pops up? No, this is better. I'll just keep you
locked up a while longer." He opened his mouth to say something but just
then her fingers went to the front of his camisole and teased his nipples
through it, making him pant and, at the same time, forget about getting
out of that tube. The stimulation made his dick strain against the
inside of the chastity, but it was futile. His sexual temperature kept
rising, his small balls drew up tight, but all to no avail. She
continued her fingering until he was dizzy with frustrated need. Only
then did she take his hand and say, "Ups-a-daisy. Let's get back to
learning to walk in those charming slippers." He got to his feet and
took several experimental steps. Soon he was able to move without the
threat of falling, though he had to take small cautious steps. She
advised him to maintain that gait, placing one foot in front of the
other. Her tone suggested that she didn't expect any disagreement.

Just like that she had him looking, moving and speaking like a proper
pansy. He hated it but what could he do? The way she had eroded his
confidence, outsmarted him, and gotten him to accept chastity -- those
all worked against him. For the next week, any time he wasn't at work,
she continued his training. With all the hair below his shaped eyebrows
gone, his soft body all pink and smooth, he had to mince about, arms
loose at his sides, hips displaying a slight swish, chin up and glossy
lips the tiniest bit puckered. Randi loved every second of it. With the
tube on, he was constantly horny from what she was putting him through.
And he was frequently serving her with his now-expert and willing mouth,
his balls aching as he gave her one climax after another. At last he
dared to remind her that she had said she would free him from chastity.
She was ready for that. Randi removed it, made him sit on a hard wooden
chair while wearing a cami top and open-crotch panties, along with
elastic-top stockings and a new pair of heeled slippers.

His hands went hesitantly toward is small but hard penis. Sounding like
a correcting Aunt, she wagged her finger and told him, "No, no, Annie. I
said I would take it off. What I didn't say was that you could play with
your funny little dicky." Before he could recover from that news, she
moved closer and straddled his thighs. Randi stood there, peering down
at him with total confidence. She was wearing a snug, long-sleeved top
and skin-tight slacks. The contrast between their clothing, how well
covered she was, and how exposed she had left him, made him feel
especially meek. His wife lowered herself until she was sitting on his
thighs, her impressive bust touching his thinly covered chest, her wide
bottom pressing down warmly against his bare upper legs. He was inflamed
with fresh passion. Up came her hands and her nimble fingers went to
work on his nipples, toying with them through the thin material of that
top. He moaned with suppressed yearning and involuntarily thrush his
narrow chest forward, wanting more even though it was elevating his
frustration to maddening levels. In no hurry, she casually teased him,
rolling her buttocks from side to side, purring seductively, and putting
her lips an inch from his to deliver several air kisses.

From the split front of his panties, Arnold's unimpressive dick
protruded. Randi slid forward, using her soft mound to press against it.
She whispered into his ear, "Does that feel nice, Annie? Do you want me
to keep doing it?" He caught his breath and said, "It feels wonderful.
But you have to let me finish. Please." "I do? Was that part of our
agreement?" "Well... no, but I thought..." "You thought being out of
your prick prison meant that you would get to finish? I don't know why
you would imagine such a thing. Foolish girl. What it really means is
that I'm going to tease you mercilessly, until your balls are like a
couple of overripe g****s, and they hurt all the time. And then do you
know what I'm going to do, little pansy?" He managed to say, sounding
shaky and unsure, "No." She explained, "And then I'm going to tease you
even more. On and on and on. Until you're ready to cry. Maybe until
you really do cry." "B... but that's not fair." She snickered and said,
"Fair, schmair. You got yourself into this and now I'm pulling your
strings. If you want a chance to avoid ending up with the world's worst
set of blue balls, there's one thing you can do." "W... w... what?"

She allowed him to fret for a few minutes while she ran her hands over
him and even took his wrists to place his palms on the fronts of her
hefty boobs. At last she revealed, "The one way you can get relief from
all this teasing and the stiffy it's giving you..." She gave his nipples
gentle tweaks. "... is to have me put you back into your chastity."
"Ah... all right. If you w... wan... want to." "Oh no," she said
merrily, "it's only if YOU want me to, Annie. Either you ask for it, or
I keep up this teasing until you have some kind of a breakdown, pretty
girl." He moaned and told her, "O... kay. Please, put it back on me."
"I can do that. But I don't want you fussing about putting it on and
taking it off and back and forth. So we need to agree on how long you
stay locked before I even think about letting your dick see the light of
day again. How long would be long enough? Three days? A week?" "Not a
whole week." "Okay. Ten days? Two weeks?" "N... no. I meant LESS
than a week." "You said 'not a whole week', so I moved on to the next
number of days. I was increasing it each time, so you knew it would get
longer. Right?" He was so confused and distracted. She put her hands
on the backs of his and made him rub her breasts. He felt her nipples
stiffen. They were so hard. Then she replaced his hands back at his
sides, and blew lightly into his face, letting him inhale her sweet
breath.

"So," she went on, "maybe three weeks?" "I can't... you sh...
shouldn't..." With a smile she advanced to, "One month?" He squirmed
under her. His lips moved but he couldn't speak. She happily concluded,
"All right, you win. Six weeks before we even mention letting you out
again. You must really enjoy having your mini-meat locked up. But since
you gave me such a hard time, and because I'm being nice enough to give
you what you really want, I think there should be something else in this
for me. So how about if..." She pretended to think about it. "... if I
keep teasing you for the entire time? Sound good? Then let's do it.
Back you go into that chastity tube that you love so much, and I'll
continue to keep you plenty juiced up, your dicky trying to get hard,
even though it won't be able to. We'll both have such a good time."
Knowing that he had been outmaneuvered -- again -- and that anything else
he said to try to fix the situation would only make it worse for him,
Arnold simply said, "Yes, dear. Thank you, Randi." She got up,
retrieved the chastity, and invited him to stand. He did but he was
still stiff. She made him go to the kitchen, with her following to be
sure he didn't try to sneak in an ejaculation, and he had to get an ice
pack from the freezer. She held it while Arnold was permitted to give
himself a few strokes, which naturally brought him back to a peak of
craving.

Only then did she have him hold the freezer pack against his privates to
reduce them to other smallest dimensions. She made a few jokes about how
tiny his parts had become before she placed the chastity back on him and
gleefully locked it. Then she stepped back, put her hands on her sexy
hips, and stood there letting him think about how much worse his
predicament had become. His lower lip trembled, which she found
charming. It made him appear extra girly. Then she smirked, stepped
close to him, and stroked the side of his face, saying, "Poor Annie girl.
Always getting herself into some kind of trouble. Let's go back to the
bedroom and play a game." He said, his voice small and wispy, "Yes,
darling. Whatever you want." She led the way, with him desperate to
touch that wide, swinging backside that was in front of him, so close but
now inaccessible unless she granted him permission to touch it.

Once they were in the bedroom she selected a tube of lipstick, opened it,
and showed him that it was a bright shade of red, which she informed him
was called Candy Apple. He thought she was going to apply it to his
mouth but instead she put it onto herself. Seeing his unspoken question
she explained, "No, I still want to keep you looking only halfway like a
girl, Annie. The pansy look. This is for the kissing game we're going
to play." She made him stand in front of her while she lightly rubbed
his shoulders, ran her fingers over his upper arms, and tickled his neck.
He was getting aroused all over again and, with that chastity tube re-
locked, it wasn't comfortable. She brought her face close to his and
placed a firm kiss on his cheek, pulled away, and then did the same on
the other side of his face. Randi turned him toward the dresser mirror
and he saw two vivid sets of lips prints decorating his face. Combined
with what he was wearing and the hint of cosmetics, it made him appear
blatantly not masculine. He blushed, which only added to the ********
effect.

His wife chuckled and then placed another kiss on his forehead, making
sure her full bust touched him. He shifted restlessly from slipper shod
foot to foot, unsettled by the innocent yet intimate contact. Randi
freshened her lipstick and planted the next several kisses on his neck,
chin, and the top of his chest. He was quivering from pent up need. His
libido was in hyper-drive but not able to take him anywhere. His bride
told him, "Lift up the front of that pretty camisole, Annie. Nice and
high." He brought it to a level where he was just able to peek over it.
She lowered her face and placed a kiss on the hairless center of his
chest and then a lingering one on each nipple, sending him through the
ceiling. She stepped back and told Arnold to lower the garment. He
could smell her lipstick on his face and body.

"Now that you're in the mood," she declared, "let's hit the sheets and
you can eat my pussy until I have some wild climaxes. At least one of us
will get to finish tonight. You have to wait... how long did you agree
to?" He lowered his eyes and, once more using his Annie voice, conceded,
"It was six weeks, Randi." "Really? You're sure?" "Yes, dearest."
"You really are quite the pervert, Annie, wanting to be kept locked up
like that. But who am I to judge? Now let's get busy. In fact, before
you start on my twat, you can pay some attention to my ass. Just pretend
it's another pussy and get your tongue working on it. Okay?" She asked
it as if he had a choice. As completely snared as he was, he tactfully
replied, "Yes, Randi. Whatever you say." She made a mental note to get
him stuttering again. It was so amusing to make him lose control of not
only his appearance and sex life, but even his ability to speak. She had
him kneel and peel down her slacks, but she kept the top on so he would
still be less dressed than her. She loved playing mind games with her
pansy husband.

So he served her, back and then front, while his confined penis continued
to strain against its chastity. His moans of desperation got her hot, as
did having her butt worshipped by his mouth. And already she was
planning more outfits for him, ones that would shame him to no end.
Visions of him in panties and tube tops, a thong and stockings and a
choker, or maybe a floppy pink beret, bow tie on an elastic band, and a
spangled vest, engaged her racing imagination as he lapped away at her.
She smiled contentedly and vowed never to let him escape her clutches.
Soon she was rushing toward the first of what would be a trio of loud
satisfying orgasms. By the time he was finally done she was already
formulating new mischief. After her last finish she rolled onto her side
and told him to wedge his face between her bum cheeks and keep it there.

Once he got his features buried in the humid earthy cleft of her sitter,
she reached over to the bedside table and got her cell phone. Randi hit
the pre-set number of one of her girlfriends. While Arnold listened
helplessly, totally cowed by the spot she had put him in, his nose
against her nether pucker, she asked her pal for the number of a golfing
club she played at. "Yeah," Randi said, after she had entered the number
in her cell's address book. "I want to take some lessons. I'll get a
cute golf outfit with a form-fitting top and short-shorts. Then I'll
have one of those handsome young instructors give me lessons. Do they
really stand behind you and reach around, to position your hands on the
club? They do? Well, I can't wait to see what that'll lead to."

It was two weeks after that when Randi came home on Saturday afternoon
with a hunky guy in white slacks and a blue sports shirt. Her golf pro.
She called for Arnold to come and meet him. The harried husband was
wearing a sleeveless peach top, brief apricot shorts, banana yellow ankle
socks, and pomegranate slip-ons. He looked like a fruit salad. Randi
said, "Carl, this is my husband Arnie, but he prefers to be called Annie.
The poor dear's been going through some gender identity issues. Annie,
say hello to my new friend." In a high breathy voice Arnold said,
"Hello, Carl." The tall man just said, "Right," while giving him a
skeptical look. Randi put both hands on Carl's hard bicep and rubbed it
suggestively, saying, "I don't guess you'd want arms like this, Annie.
Would you?" Licking his glossy lips, Arnold had to say, "No, sweetie.
No th... thank y... y... you." Ah, there was that endearing stutter.
Randi told Carl, "It hasn't been easy for me since my spouse began
exploring his pansy side. I've really missed certain perks of marriage."
She pressed herself against the athletic man and said, "Speaking of
which, would you like to see my bedroom?" He grinned at her and said he
would. Then he threw a harsh look of warning at Arnold, who cowered and
broke eye contact.

The pansy husband stayed where he was while they vanished into the
bedroom. It had been so demeaning to be seen in that outfit. He heard
the unmistakable sounds of foreplay and then vigorous sex, with Randi
giving her new lover endless compliments and saying what a dud Arnold had
always been in the sack. It went on for nearly and hour before she
called for her spouse. The girlishly dressed man went to the door and
said shyly, "Yes, dear?" She ordered him to bring them two wine glasses
and a bottle of white that had been chilling in the fridge, so they could
'celebrate'. When Arnold, now more shamed than ever because he had been
so openly cuckolded, stepped gingerly into the room, he was greeted by
the sight of his nude wife snuggled against the equally clothes-free
stud. The sheets were pushed down to the foot of the bed. Carl's cock,
larger even now that it was soft than Arnold's was hard, rested on his
firm hairy thigh. Randi reached down absently and gave it a squeeze.

Arnold swallowed with difficulty and struggled to open the wine. It was
just a screw-off cap, but Carl had to remove it for him. Arnold poured
with a trembling hand and watched while the pair clinked glasses and
toasted to, as Carl said arrogantly, 'many repeat performances'. They
drank and then Randi got up onto one elbow to kiss him warmly, prolonging
it while their tongues met and then entered each others' mouths. Arnold
could only stand there in his humiliating outfit and sniffle, the bottle
clutched to his bright feminine top. His wife smiled wickedly at him and
said, not in a mean way but making it clear she was serious, "Get used to
it, Annie girl. There will be lots more showy outfits for you to wear,
plenty of serving my pussy with your mouth, and definitely as much of
what you just had to listen to as Carl wants to give me. He's the
complete opposite of you. And now that I have him, I've thought about
when I might feel like letting your tiny dick out for some exercise, and
I've decided to add another -- oh, I don't know -- how about six weeks
additional to your time under lock and key? That'll make it almost a
quarter of a year. And after that I'll think about it again." She
rubbed the side of her face against Carl's sculpted chest and looked back
at Arnold while she warned the cuckold, "But you shouldn't get your hopes
up, pansy Annie."












CHASTE SISSY SELECTIONS

by Throne

"What's the matter, lover boy?" Tanya asked with an amused expression on
her pretty face. "You're the one who wanted to be locked up in that
tight little chastity tube, Billy. I mean, sure, you thought it would
just be for an hour or so, and that I would let you out so we could have
wild sex. But I did warn you that I can be very mean, didn't I? When
we started two weeks ago?" She laughed breathily, a soft and sinister
sound. "So now you're stuck. I've got the key and you're not getting
out any time soon. I like you this way. I also like those yellow
panties I made you put on. With your boy parts squeezed so tight in
that device, it almost looks like you only have a nice girly mound down
there. And that sweet belly shirt, with those bright horizontal rainbow
stripes, is so cute on you. Your pretty outfit really shows off what a
good job you're doing of keeping yourself free of any nasty old body
hair."

She sat there on the edge of the bed, fully dressed in some of her
sexiest clothes, watching him drool over her, knowing that he could do
nothing about it, relishing how well tamed he was becoming since she had
put him into chastity. "Now," she went on, "I'm having some of my
girlfriends over later and you'll be serving us drinks and snacks. I
need to see if you've been practicing your swishy walk and body language
like I said you should. Let's go. Mince around the room for me a few
times." He cringed at the thought of having to display himself that way
and, worse, having those other girls see it when they arrived. But what
choice did he have? Tanya had gotten him into chastity and now he was
trapped. If he ever wanted to escape, he had to cooperate completely.
Billy took a few tentative steps, remembering to sway his hips as he put
one foot directly in front of the other. He kept his upper arms at his
sides but angled his lower arms out, keeping his wrists limp.

Tanya chuckled at the ridiculous sight he made. His trim bottom rolled
nicely in those snug panties. She had parted his collar-length hair in
the middle and pulled it into two short ponytails at the sides of his
head, then fixed them there with pretty bows. After Billy had made
three humiliating circuits of the room she stopped him. "Now step into
those flashy shoes over in the corner and do it again. Don't worry,
those are platform heels, so you won't fall over. Probably." He did as
told, wishing there were some way to convince her to free him. Instead,
his discomfort and anxiety only made her want to keep him locked for
longer. He still owed her another ten days before she was due to
liberate his manhood.

"Very attractive," she praised him after a half dozen trips around the
room in the shoes. "You can just keep those on while you clean my
entire apartment. I love the way those heels shape your legs. They do
wonders for those smooth calves." Billy started beating himself up
mentally again. How could he have let himself be locked up this way?
And as smart as he was, why couldn't he convince her to set his penis
loose? He shook his head as he picked up a dust rag in one hand and a
pump bottle of some cleaning fluid in the other to begin his chores. He
dreaded having to spend the next two hours acting like a maid,
especially cleaning the bathroom from top to bottom. He took one more
longing glimpse at the seductive young woman before he began his work.
She made a show of sitting herself down, picking up a magazine, and
flipping the pages, confident that he would finish all the work on time.
Tanya would get ready when she was ready to get ready.

******

Danny was cowering in the woods, totally naked except for glitzy sandals
and a silly beret. Whatever it was that Maria had slipped him at the
party last night, after she thought he was coming on to her best gal
pal, had made changes in his body. Not only was all of his hair gone
below the eyebrows, but his skin was extra smooth and on his chest were
the beginnings of two soft protuberances. Worst of all, his long proud
cock was tightly imprisoned in a chastity tube, made of steel, that was
securely locked. He whimpered as Maria, fully clothed and smiling
smugly, appeared, assuring him, "You don't have to worry about if you
should attempt to get to your car. It's all locked up. If you want to
try to get the key from me, I can give you another demonstration of my
marital arts skills." He sank down, trying to hide his shameful
nakedness behind a low bush. As he looked up at the buxom, dark-haired
girl, he said in a small voice, wondering why he sounded so...
feminine... "No, I don't want you to show me again. Last night, after I
got fresh with Tina... I mean after you thought I did... that was
enough."

"What can I say, Danette? Everybody who saw you thought that's what you
were doing. I know you say it was her fault, but how could that be? Do
you think I put her up to something? That I was looking for an excuse
to do this to you?" When he was too intimidated to answer, she just
chuckled and went on, "Besides, I really LIKE having you in chastity. I
know it's been less than 24 hours, but a horny pig like you is probably
feeling the effects of being around girls and not getting off by now.
Am I right?" He lowered his eyes and whispered, "Yes, Maria." "Ah,"
she said with satisfaction, "that's the tone I want to hear. All the
time. If you expect to get out of that chastity anytime soon." She
thought for a moment and then, as if the idea had just hit her, told
him, "You know what would be the perfect way to cool off your fevered
libido? You could take a nice swim in the lake over there." "L... like
THIS?" "Of course not like that. I would hold your hat and sandals for
you."

He looked like he was going to cry. "But there are campers on the other
side of the lake. They might s... see me." "Would that be so bad? You
might find someone ELSE to hit on." "B... but I don't want some other
girl." "No? Well, if you look again, you'll see that everyone over
there is guys." He gasped and instinctively covered his bare chest with
his hands. He was very conscious of the way he was changing there.
Maria said, "Let's just think about last night for a minute. If I did
what you seem to think I did, that would make me a very nasty and
manipulative woman. The kind who would get a kick out of keeping you in
chastity. For a long, long time. So it might be in your best interests
to appease me right now, before I make any major decisions regarding
you, and get in the water and start paddling around. Or if you'd rather
just wait and see what I come up with if you DON'T do what I say..."
She left the choice hanging in the air. Danny gingerly took the hat off
and handed it to her. He slipped his feet out of the showy sandals and
gave them to Maria as well. Now he felt even more vulnerable, his
smooth pink body on display and his cock trapped that way. She glanced
up at the bright sun with concern and then insisted on putting some UV
blocker on his lips and cheeks, assuring him that it was waterproof.

She patted his bare bottom and said, "Get swimming, Danette, or I
can..." "I'll go," he said in that unfamiliar voice. Even though it
was a warm day he shivered as he scooted from one bit of cover to
another, trying to hide himself for as long as he could. Then he
scampered to the edge of the water and rushed in, eager to conceal
himself. When he was in up to his neck he took a few strokes away from
shore, wondering what it would take to satisfy Maria. He looked back at
her and was horrified to see Tina and several other girls from the
previous evening's party had arrived. They were moving down to the
sandy border of the lake, pointing at him and aiming their cell phones
in his direction, taking pictures. He blushed and ducked underwater,
kicking away from them. When he surfaced he saw that his presence had
attracted other attention. There were several tall hunky guys in skimpy
bathing suits stepping into the water, nodding toward him and saying
something to each other. One of them, a real muscleman, slid into the
water and swam toward him with long powerful strokes. Before Danny
could react he was alongside, smiling and saying, "Well hello there.
You are one cute piece of fluff."

"I... I'm not... cute." WHY couldn't get speak in his normal voice?
The guy said, "Oh, I think somebody's in denial. Or just playing hard
to get." He laughed happily and reached out to stroke Danny's bare
shoulder before asking him, "Why don't you come over to our side... of
the lake?" Confused and scared of what the girls might do to him, he
unhappily began to move toward where the group of males was waiting. He
reached shallow water but didn't want to go further. The fellow who had
swum out to him said, "Let Josh help you," before he scooped him up in
his powerful arms and lifted him completely out of the water. Danny
squealed, not wanting to be shown off to all those young men, who he saw
were eyeing him with lust. Oh no! Josh was carrying him into the midst
of a crowd of horny gay men. Danny kicked his feet ineffectually and
tugged at his captor's strong arms with wasted effort. He tried not to
cry as he was set down and the good-looking guys crowded in on him.
Their main point of interest was his groin, and the snug-fitting
chastity tube. Several pointed and giggled as he cringed, wishing he
could somehow hide his smooth hairless form.

"Don't be so shy, dear," one of the onlookers advised, sounding a lot
less butch that Josh. "We can all see that you want attention." "I..."
Danny didn't understand. He managed to say in a strained whisper, "What
do you mean?" "Oh, Mary, don't tell me you put that face-paint on by
accident." "Face... what?" Josh took him by his upper arm, marched him
forward, and stood him alongside someone's SUV, then gripped the back of
his neck and forced his head down so that he was staring into the side
mirror. Oh no! That 'sunblock' Maria had applied was colored and
looked like lipstick and blush. How could he ever convince these guys
that he was straight? Danny stammered out what he hoped was a coherent
story, but when he claimed that he had let a girl put him into chastity,
the butch guys guffawed and the fem ones tittered. This was starting to
look hopeless. Josh let his hand slide down to cup one of Danny's
bottom cheeks. The hapless nude male lurched forward, right into
another gay predator, who threw his long arms around him and pretended
to hump him.

That was when Danny saw two carloads of girls pull up nearby. They
tumbled out of the vehicles, led by Maria. She smiled at Josh and said,
"I see you're taking care of my cousin Danny. Or as he likes to be
called, Danette." Josh grinned and said, "So he DOES like playing at
being a girl." "Well," Maria improvised, "he's kind of half in and half
out of the closet. Can't get in touch with his true personality. We
could leave him here and you studs could help him be his real self. Or
we could take him with us, back to my place, and give him some time to
think about it... while he acts as our serving girl." She gave Danny a
penetrating look and said, "It's your choice, sweetheart. Do you want
to stay with the guys and maybe lose your virginity, or go back with us
and play slave games, maybe get your tempting fanny swatted." Danny
didn't like either choice but the thought of staying with these eager
males horrified him. He forced himself to tell her, in a strained
feminine voice, "I want to go back to your place and... be a servant to
all these girls."

The guys booed as several sets of female hands seized him and pushed him
into the back seat of the second car. One girl got on either side of
him and they freely pinched his nipples and pretended to rub his
***********ed manhood through the tube. He couldn't achieve tumescence
and sat there whimpering, begging them in his girly tones to leave him
alone. All too soon he was at Maria's apartment. But the car didn't
stop. They went halfway up the street and one of them told him, "Let's
see you scoot back to Maria's, all naked and attractive like you are.
Nobody'll see you. Maybe." They shoved him out the door and, shielded
by the auto, he dashed into a clump of bushes and crouched down. A
branch jabbed him between his bottom cheeks. The only people on the
street were college-aged, male and female. If he waited much longer one
of them would spy him and probably spread the word. He had to make a
break for it. In desperation he raced toward the next patch of cover.
He heard a wolf whistle but couldn't be sure if it came from a guy or
gal. The car backed up slowly to keep pace with him, the girls in it
hooting and hollering. He sprinted from cover to cover and finally
reached Maria's front door, but it was locked. A pair of jocks across
the street gaped at him and started in his direction. Just as they were
getting close the door behind him opened and he was yanked inside.

"So pretty," Maria enthused as he stood there blushing all over. "Now
lets get you into some clothes so you can start waiting on us." His
'clothes' turned out to be a lace handkerchief, which they used string
to turn into an improvised apron that covered almost nothing. Then
someone perched a doily atop his head and pinned it there. Finally,
another girl put a pair of high heels in front of him and told him to
get his feet into them. They were tight and he had trouble taking
steps, but he wasn't permitted to remove them. Instead, he had to
totter around like that while they made jokes at his expense. At last
someone gave him a job to do, fetching sodas for them while they lounged
around. He had to get one can at a time, so he was constantly racing
back and forth while they jeered. One of them found a wooden kitchen
spoon and made him stop so she could administer a dozen hard smacks to
his uncovered butt. He yelped and blubbered while they mocked his lack
of machismo. The soft mounds on his chest jiggled.

Maria was wildly amused by all of his suffering and shame. She said,
"Now I think it's time for you to entertain us. Somebody put on some
music, something with a strong beat, and Danette can show us what a good
dancer she is. You ARE a good dancer, aren't you, Danette? If not, you
can be our bedroom slave." "N... no," he piped. "I'll dance for you.
And do whatever else you want. Just don't make me go with all these
girls into the... bedroom." Maria laughed. "Of course we won't do
that, Danette. None of us wants to use you as a sex slave," she lied.
"Now let's get you dancing."

******

Chuck's wife, Rosanne, sat in his recliner while he stood in front of
her, shamefaced. She said bluntly, "I was really surprised to see all
that stuff in your porn stash on our computer. I was especially shocked
by the chastity pictures and stories. Is that really what you fantasize
about, dear?" He turned down his eyes and mumbled, "Yes, dear. I'm
sorry. It's just..." "I didn't ask you for an apology, Chuck. In
fact, I was kind of turned on by that stuff. Especially by the fiction
on that site, Storyphila, the ones where the wives feminize their
husbands. You like those too, don't you?" His cheeks flushed as he
admitted that he did. "Well, I can see an opportunity for us to start
over as a couple and reignite what has become, frankly, a pretty dull
sex life." She let her words sink in and gave him a moment. He didn't
want to say the wrong thing but couldn't stop himself from asking, "So,
are you saying that you want to... try some of that?" "I'm saying that
I found the chastity device you ordered on line and I want you to go get
it -- RIGHT NOW."

Filled with a mixture of fear and excitement, he rushed to his dresser
and dug around in the back of the bottom drawer until he found the
simple yet very effective item. He brought it uncertainly to his wife,
who held it in the palm of her hand. He gazed at her lovingly. And
hungrily. Rosanne was a tall blond with a stunningly full figure. She
smiled at him and said seductively, "Get undressed, loverboy. Let the
games begin." Feeling slightly more relaxed, he began to strip out of
his clothes. Soon he was before her in the nude. She smirked at him
and the way he was getting partly erect. "Why don't you go to the
fridge and get an icepack? Hold it against your naughty dick on your
way back." She really had been checking out those pictures and stories.
He wondered if she had spent much time on his favorite blog, the one
called something like 'Admissions of a Devoted Chastity Enthusiast' or
whatever it was. When he returned with the blue plastic box of frozen
liquid held dutifully against his member, which shriveled up from the
low temperature, his wife was pleased. She summoned him near with a
gesture, still in the chair, and indicated that he should remove the ice
pack.

As soon as it was out of the way she deftly slipped the chastity cage
over his cock and closed it behind his balls. Then she held up the key
and said, "Do you want me to lock you in, darling?" He took a deep
breath, unable to believe that his cherished dream was about to become
reality, and said, "Yes, Rosanne. Please use that key." "But you
understand that I might decide to keep you in there for longer than you
want?" He bit his lips for a second before assuring her, "I know.
Whatever you say, that's what we'll do. For as long as you say." She
told him, "Oh, you poor boy. I'm liking this already and the thought of
keeping you trapped in that tube is getting me so excited. That and how
I'm going to dress you. But I gave you a choice." She put the key in
and turned it, then took it and attached it to a thin gold chain she
wore around her neck. "Now you're going to have to live with that
choice." His throat was suddenly dry and he could only nod.

Rosanne stood and gave him a warm kiss. His crotch tingled and his
penis tried to erect, but was frustrated by the tight cage. She cupped
his balls in her soft hand and lightly massaged them. He groaned as his
organ tried harder to grow large. His wife rubbed her heavy breasts
against his bare chest and he panted with need. "This is even better
than I imagined," she said, maybe to him or perhaps just to herself.
Then, coming out of her brief reverie, she announced, "Time to go to the
bedroom and get you prettied up." Feeling dizzy with happiness, Chuck
followed his gorgeous wife, admiring how her broad bottom rolled in the
tight slacks she was wearing. He automatically thought of sex but then
just as quickly understood that he wasn't going to be granted that
reward. No, his wife now shared his passion for chastity. It was a
dream come true for him. But how far would she take it?

In the bedroom she produced several plastic bags from the bottom of her
closet and began to fuss with their contents without revealing what they
held. All at once she brought out a pair of silk panties and a satiny
corset. His mouth dropped open. He had saved a series of photos in
which a man was put into chastity and then dressed in those same pieces
of clothing. His wife held them out to him and he accepted them
wordlessly. While she watched, he began to dress. Chuck had almost no
body hair to begin with and had been secretly trimming what little grew
on his crotch, so that now he possessed only a modest patch there. She
nodded approvingly as he stepped into the panties and slid them up his
legs, feeling their seductive softness. Then he began to try to put on
the corset. Rosanne chuckled and stepped in to help him. She lightly
stroked his bare arms before she began to lace it up. When she was
halfway done she kissed the back of his neck. In the end she tugged the
cords as tight as she could, compressing his waist just as the tube
compressed his shaft. He felt utterly under her affectionate control.

She told him to go into the closet and get what else was in the back.
It was impossible to bend at the waist so he had to sink into a deep
squat, aware of how he must look with his panty clad butt on display.
What he found was a pair of woman's shoes with three inch spike heels.
He stood and reverently held them to his chest as he turned to face his
wife. She simply said, "Put them on... Cherry." He took a shuddering
breath. Not only had she put him into chastity and dressed him, but she
had even given him a female name. He cooperatively put down the
footwear and stepped into it. He wife was pleased. She had him walk in
them and, when he had difficulty, told him not to be concerned because
she would make sure he got lots and lots of practice. Chuck nodded
mutely. She said, "Now, Cherry, there's one more thing to take care of.
Let's make sure you understand how our love life is going to work from
now on. I'll give you a hint. For me there'll be as many orgasms as I
want. For you, practically none, if any. And with your dick under lock
and key, how are you going to please my pussy?"

He said hesitantly, "I'm going to... use my mouth?" "Good girl. I know
you've never done that for me, but with a bit of instruction I'm sure
you'll excel. In fact, I will MAKE you the best you can be." She sank
back onto the mattress and sighed languidly. "Now be a good chaste
spouse and undress me. I'm sure it'll be kind of tricky with me lying
down but, hey, from now on making things easy for you will NOT be a
concern. Quite the opposite. Now start with my shoes and don't hurry.
Then you can wriggled these tight slacks off me and unbutton my blouse
and work it off. I hope doing all that will get you aroused. I plan to
keep you worked up all the time, Cherry. Won't that be fun... for me?"
Sounding suddenly feminine he told her, "Yes, Ma'am." The form of
address seemed inevitable. She liked it and told him to use it all the
time when he was dressed. Soon he was performing the unfamiliar but
strangely thrilling task, tasting her femaleness, feeling the panties
and corset against his skin, hampered slightly by the tightness of the
latter. But that small inconvenience was forgotten in the wild
excitement of being treated the way he had always longed to be. His
ravishing wife was dominating him and had suggested that she would be
keeping him chaste for quite some time.

After he had thoroughly satisfied her and basked in her compliments, she
said, "You know, not only do you have a natural gift for using your
mouth on me, but I'm sure keeping you heated up with no release will
only make you work harder at it. So let's say we set your first period
of chastity at... a minimum of... two weeks." He nearly swooned at the
welcome news. Two weeks of being her willing sex slave, of being
involuntarily chaste, and of being put into girly fashions, was like a
trip to paradise for him. "However," she went on, "any behavior that I
deem to be wrong... or that just irritates me for no particular
reason... will get you extra days in chastity. In fact, that blank look
on your face just cost you two added days. My whims could result in a
lot of time added to your sentence, Cherry my dear." He didn't mind.
In fact, his imprisoned cock told him that he loved it, as the trapped
organ strained against its unbreakable confines.

Rosanne said, "Now get into the missionary position, Cherry. Let's play
pretend." As he moved she explained, "We'll pretend that you're not in
chastity and I'm yearning to have you inside me." He was between her
legs, propped up on his arms, their crotches touching. She reached up
and began to toy with his sensitive nipples. He gasped as ripples of
stimulation travelled through his body, making his penis twice as
anxious to rise to its full height. Instead, it remained compressed,
his balls drawn up tight inside the panties, the corset squeezing his
middle without mercy. Rosanne said passionately, "Ohhh, baby, I need
you so bad. Put that big thing into me. Shove it in and ride me hard.
Do it. NOW!" But all Chuck could accomplish was to stay where he was,
pressed against her below the waist, as she returned to teasing him with
her talented fingers, making him writhe with unmet need, as she became
more and more stimulated by his desperation and her control.

At last she stopped teasing him. She had her husband lie alongside her
and put her hand over his. "That was wonderful," she said. "I am going
to keep you locked for a long time, Cherry. You are going to model all
sorts of sexy outfits for me and then use your mouth as if you were my
lesbian lover. Poor baby. You wanted chastity and now you're getting
it, plenty of it, until you overload and even after that. How do you
feel about that?" Speaking softly, he told her, "It's what I want. If
you feel like you're going too far, I hope you won't go back on what you
just said. Being your... feminine lover... in chastity... is precisely
what I've always wanted. I'm only sorry I didn't tell you before you
found out." "That's right," she said impishly. "You kept your secrets
from me. Bad girl. Just for that I'm adding two more weeks to your
sentence." She squeezed his fingers and he returned the gesture.
"Thank you," Chuck said with deep feeling. "You're welcome," his wife
responded. "I love you, baby." "And I love you more than ever."

******

I felt completely helpless. First of all, my penis was inside a
chastity tube that was lined with short points. I couldn't get hard but
if my body tried to, it would hurt a lot, but without breaking the skin.
Over that I was wearing a pair of tight rubber panties that mashed my
balls against my crotch. Any time I moved it cost me pain. There were
also rubber stockings, which were attached to the leg holes of the
panties with sturdy garters made of... naturally... rubber. On my feet
were rubber boots that made a double layer where they overlapped the
stockings. My wife Anya looked at me with satisfaction. I tried not to
appear as frightened as I felt. Hoping for leniency, I said, "Maybe you
could just leave me like this." She shook her pretty head and
responded, "But Burt, you know you don't want anyone to see you dressed.
And I am expecting company."

I shivered and said quietly, "Yes, dear." She seemed to be waiting for
more so I cautiously added, "Thank you, dear." She told me, "That's
better. Now let's get you into this lovely new rubber corset." My
bride made me put my hands over my head and lowered the pre-laced
garment over me until it was where she wanted it. Then she made me hold
it in place while she began tightening the laces. Anya works out and is
fairly strong, so she was able to make the corset tighter... and
tighter... and tighter. It compressed my waist until I was ready to
start weeping. Then she tied it off securely. Next came gloves that
reached all the way to my armpits. She had to sprinkle powder into them
to make them go on. And they were also made of you-know-what. The
material was tight enough that I could barely bend my fingers. Now,
even if she left me alone, I wouldn't be able to reach around and untie
the corset. And she wasn't done. There was also a rubber bra that had
small cups filled with foam. It fit snugly and gave the illusion that I
had breasts. I blushed a little to look down and see my swollen chest.

"I'll add the finishing touches before my guest arrives," she said,
sounding reasonable even though the situation was anything but. I
acquiesced silently. She led me out of the bedroom and into the
kitchen. My poor testicles were crushed against each other with every
step. She opened the fridge and eyed its contents critically, checking
my earlier purchases off verbally. "Beer. The right brand. And two
six packs should be enough for now. I assume there's more in the
garage." "Yes, love." "And wine. White and red." She closed the door
and went to the counter where bottles were lined up. "Whiskey, vodka
and rum. All brand names. None of that cheap stuff. Good. And mixers
to go along with them. I assume there are lemons and limes in the
produce drawer of the fridge?" I nodded. "Okay. And you have a good
record for buying snacks so I won't check those." She returned her
attention to the counter. "Where's the corkscrew?"

I swallowed drily. "I... um... forgot to put it out." "Well, well,
well. Would you prefer twenty hard ones with that sorority paddle I
bought at the collectibles shop, or an added week with your chastity
on?" I shrank up inside. She loved to give me two ******** choices and
then watch me squirm while I agonized over which one to take. She
wasn't disappointed. I'm always eager to get out of chastity and maybe
even be allowed to cum. But I also can't stand her paddle spankings and
am always anxious to avoid them. So both options were terrible. She
said, sounding like she wanted to be helpful, "It's okay. You can think
about it and let me know when I ask again." What she really meant was
that I could wriggle like a worm on a hook while I suffered over which
alternative to choose. Then she had me get the corkscrew... out of the
bottom drawer. In my restrictive outfit that was no easy task.

As I started to obsess over my decision, she began telling me what
chores she wanted done in the next two hours. Most of them were simple,
or would have been if I wasn't dressed in rubber. With my hands
hampered, and bending over made very uncomfortable by that corset, easy
jobs became difficult. I got busy, still agonizing over what my choice
would be. I began sweating from being mostly enclosed in rubber. She
left me to my tasks, busying herself for that visitor. My final job was
to scrub the bathroom floor. She always made me use a small plastic
bucket intended for a c***d to play with on the beach, and a tiny brush
that was meant for cleaning under the ends of fingernails. The work
became arduous and I was sweltering in the tight, barely flexible
rubber. When I finally got the entire floor clean she had finished
primping (and probably had time to relax as well) and returned to let me
see how she looked.

Anya was stunningly sexy in a short, electric blue dress that hugged her
generous curves, as well as showing off her deep cleavage. She had on
high black heels and she had worked some kind of female magic on her
hair, giving it a look that was high fashion and seductive at the same
time. She gazed down at me with a satisfied smile and said, "Now let's
finish getting YOU ready." I cringed but got up obediently and put away
my cleaning supplies. She led me back to the bedroom, her backside
nicely displayed in that dress, which made me aware all over again about
the disabled state of my cock. When we got there she had a rubber full-
head mask sitting on a mannequin head on her dresser. It was a new one
and I stared at it with uneasy interest, wondering what diabolical
'extras' it might offer. She made me stand there while she went to work
on my eyes, using mascara to thicken my lashes, blue shadow to darken my
upper lids, and lots of liquid liner to exaggerate the total effect.

Then she put the hood on me and zipped it up in the back, making it
cling to my features. She let me see myself in the mirror and I was
struck by how the cut-outs around my eyes created twin frames that
emphasized that portion of my face, as did high-arched eyebrows printed
on the rubber. There was also an opening around my mouth, so I was
surprised that she didn't apply lipstick. The mask extended downward
over my neck. As I had feared, there was an 'extra', which was metal
bands that formed an invisible collar and forced me to hold my chin
unnaturally high. My wife considered attaching a wig to the hood but
decided she liked me better the way I was, appearing somewhat bizarre.
She was quite satisfied with the job she had done and was running her
hands possessively over my rubber-sheathed form when the we heard the
front door open. She told me, "Go and greet my guest... Dolly." I did
feel something like a rubber doll, except that I still had the power of
speech.

When I got to the living room my worst fear was realized. As I had
suspected, her guest was her lover, Brick. He had picked up that name
as a football lineman in college, because he was as immovable as a brick
wall. That was easy to believe, considering that he was well over six
feet tall, broadly built, beefy and strong. I went up to him, hating
the way I looked, while he smirked at me. It was bad enough to be his
physical inferior and to have him making me a cuckold, but to have to
face him looking like that was emotionally devastating. He sneered at
me and said, in his familiar gruff voice, "I guess Anya wants me to use
this now." He reached into the pocket of his leather coat and pulled
out an odd device. With his free hand he gripped my lower face and
squeezed, forcing my mouth wide so he could shoved it between my teeth.
Brick twisted something and the metal contraption expanded. It was a
pear gag and there was no way I could remove it from my mouth with those
gloves on. As my bride came up alongside him he reached into his other
pocket and took out... an oversized pair of plastic lips? Not bothering
to be gentle, he fitted them to the protruding end of the gag and made
an adjustment, so that they were fixed there, pressed tight against my
face.

Anya laughed and when I dared to turn enough to view myself in the
entryway mirror, I learned that they completely covered the lower cut-
out on my mask. Now my face really had the look of a doll's -- a sex
doll's -- with my overdone eyes and those huge, red shiny lips. Brick
demanded a cold beer and I hurried off to get one. When I returned they
were in each other's arms, kissing ardently. My heart nearly stopped at
the sight, even though I had seen that, and much worse, many times
before. As distressing as it was, it also pushed my buttons sexually.
In its confinement my cock stirred and tried again to grow erect. That
hurt and I moaned, which is when I learned that the center of those fake
lips was open so that, while I couldn't speak, I could make sounds.
Brick said, "What's the matter, Dolly? Are you afraid I didn't kiss
your wife long enough? Or hard enough? She DOES like it long and
hard." He guffawed at his crude joke and I made another sad noise,
which inspired my wife to say, "I like him this way, so he can't bother
us with words, but we can still hear how miserable we're making him."

Imagine how totally emasculated I felt as they began steamy foreplay,
their hands wandering freely over each other's bodies. I whimpered,
mewled and groaned, unable to keep myself from vocalizing. The two of
them were turned on by my audible suffering and ground their pelvises
together, then started undressing each other. Pain stabbed my balls.
It had been so long since I was allowed to cum. Brick leered at me over
my wife's bare shoulder and said, "I don't know which one of you looks
hotter." She bit him playfully on the neck and massaged his crotch. He
gave her a lingering kiss, wet and slurping. Inside my feminine rubber
second-skin, I shivered, even thought I was broiling. They were almost
naked and he picked her up in his powerful arms, effortlessly carried
her to the bedroom, and laid her on her back in the center of the bed.
Brick looked at me and said, "Hey, weakling, take off your wife's
shoes." I meekly got onto my knees at the foot of the bed, the corset
cutting into my middle, my balls throbbing with fresh pain, and
struggled to remove her heels with my glove-restricted fingers. When I
finally accomplished the task I stayed there, hugging the shoes to my
false breasts, making more pathetic sounds, while he mounted her and
they had a protracted session of hard screwing, my wife squirming
happily beneath him while he hammered away.

She couldn't stop telling him how good he was and what a poor excuse for
a man I was. "Dolly is never going to feel the inside of my pussy with
her dick again. My husband was always a dud in bed. No spirit or
imagination, and he always finished too soon." "Yeah," Brick told her,
not even winded by his exertions, "but you've turned him into an expert
pussy eater. And that's what he'll be doing after I shoot my load into
you. My thick, hot, salty spunk." Those words drove her over the edge.
She was so excited by the thought of that added disgrace being inflicted
on me that she had a quaking orgasm. With his usual effortless control,
Brick waited until she was halfway through it before he let himself
spurt. Knowing he was finishing gave her an extra jolt of excitement
and she began a second climax before the first was over. They rose to
heights she could never have dreamed of with me and I couldn't help
feeling inadequate. They slowly came down and lay there, him on top,
supporting himself with his muscular arms, his biceps bulging. I sighed
in defeat. They sighed with contentment.

Eventually he rolled off her and they lay side-by-side, still
intoxicated from such great sex. At last he got up and grabbed me by
the back of the neck, saying, "Come on, sissy Dolly. Time to clean up
that big sticky mess I left inside your wife." He pulled out the fake
lips, released the lock on the gag, and tugged it from my gaping mouth.
I gasped. He propelled me onto the bed and toward my bride's waiting,
well used womanhood. I came to a halt immediately in front of it, took
a breath, and pressed my mouth against her labia, tasting his potent
sperm and immediately beginning to lap up and swallow it, sickened but
too cowed to object. He got back onto the bed and gave her a deep kiss,
his hand cupping the front of her full breast. She purred happily and
her hips twitched. Despite the double climax he had given her, she was
responding eagerly to my efforts. My wife had learned to be greedy and
selfish, to demand added pleasure from my submissive service. While I
lapped and swallowed, with Brick running his tongue over hers, she
mounted toward one more finale. It took a while but when it came her
hips bucked against my lower face while I continued pleasing her, making
sure she received the maximum fulfillment. At last she was done and I
gently licked her through a long afterglow. Then Brick crammed the gag
back into place and reattached those awful lips.

How long will my wife -- and her lover -- keep me in chastity. I think
this is going to be a permanent state for me. She loves to tantalize
me, toying with my tender nipples and blowing in my ears, driving me to
distraction with the always unfulfilled hope of relief. There have been
occasional releases from chastity in the past. Sometimes they include
her stroking me with her hand but I believe I won't be even that lucky
from now on. The last two times she only allowed me to stroke myself,
making me do it in slow motion so that, in both instances, I was able to
cum but they were spoiled orgasms, relieving the worst of the pressure
without providing full enjoyment. I remain frustrated. In fact, more
and more I find my thoughts about sex transitioning from the desire to
penetrate my wife, to the urge to taste her, to give her orgasms with my
mouth. Even thinking about how they mistreat and control me is
beginning to arouse me. I'm afraid that another few months of this
lifestyle will change me into what they've probably wanted all along, a
bed slave who is totally submissive and even craves being used. But I
imagine that even that won't be enough. I believe that they will just
keep driving me to new depths of surrender and degradation, feminizing
me and altering my behavior, until my self-image as a man is as
completely ruined as the sex life that I once knew.

******

I was standing there in the hallway, naked, when my girlfriend Tess came
up to me, fully clothed, and pressed herself against me, pinning me to
the wall. My mouth opened and closed but no words came. Her body
undulated and she said, "What's the matter, Bobby? Is something the
matter?" I took a deep breath and managed to say, "You know what's...
affecting me." She chuckled throatily and said, "I sure do. After all,
it was me who got you to accept being in that heavy-duty chastity tube.
And it was me who got you wearing panties. Speaking of which, where are
those sweet apricot-colored panties I selected for you this morning? I
was even nice enough to spray them with some cheap, obvious perfume I
bought for you... at the dollar store."

When I at last found my voice I told her, "I was just going into the
bedroom to put them on, dear. I had to get my shower." She sniffed me
and said, "You smell nice and clean but, really, I want to smell that
flowery junk I bought for you. And you owe me a dollar." Tess rolled
herself side-to-side to maximize the contact between us. I was
breathing hard because she had gotten me so stimulated, with very little
expectation of any release. My girlfriend might not be attractive to
some guys. She's kind of heavy. Well, actually, she's fat. Tess has a
pear-shaped figure with nice round boobs, very wide hips, a huge bottom,
and full thighs. To me she looks like a goddess. I like her short
blond hair and the wire-rim glasses she wears. While she was pressing
against me she had on sweats and running shoes, kind of ironic for
someone who abhors exercise.

Her plump hand went down and gripped the chastity device that had held
my penis prisoner for the last ten days. I moaned with need as she
twisted it playfully, not enough to hurt me. "Poor sweetie," she said
with fake sympathy. "Your balls must be getting awfully sore. Are
they?" I admitted that they had been bothering me. That I had woken up
in the middle of the night because of the discomfort. She looked me in
the eyes and said, "Then I had better not do THIS." Tess licked my
cheek like a cat. "Or THIS." She bent forward and lapped at my left
nipple and then the right one. I writhed from her love-play but did
nothing to try to stop her. When we had started dating seriously she
dropped the C bomb on me, the ultimatum that we could stay together...
if I agreed to be put into chastity. Tess is good at reading people and
read me like I was a huge billboard, unable to be missed. She plainly
saw how shy I was, how smitten by her, and deduced without even trying
that I would do anything she wanted.

Three days after the chastity went on she gave me my first pair of
panties. Which I also had to pay her back for. She was endlessly
amused by making me finance my own submission. As soon as I was in them
she began a long session of teasing, her hands all over my bare body,
driving me to ecstasy but without reaching the final heights. It got so
desperate that I blurted out that I was a virgin. She came to a
complete stop, I thought because she was taking pity and wanted to give
me a break. But it was the opposite. She told me, "I can't believe it.
You're my own *************. And I can keep you that way. For as long
as I please." Then she had resumed toying with my libido. That was
also the evening that she introduced me to having my mouth on her pussy.
I had almost no dating history and had never even thought about doing
that for a girl. But Tess insisted and, as I said, she knew that I had
no limits when it came to her. So, with her directing me, I was soon
adept at eating her to orgasms.

But now, as she kept me pinned to the wall, she said, "I've been
thinking. When you put that tube on yourself..." She loved reminding
me that I had done it voluntarily. "... when you did that, we talked
about making it for two weeks. Which would mean that you only have four
days left to go. Of course, when I let you out... if I let you out...
it would have to be entirely on my terms." I said weakly, "Of course,
Tess." I might not let you cum at all. Or maybe I'd just give you a
hand job. That way you'd still be a virgin. Right?" I nodded. "Or
maybe I'd make you play with yourself. While I sat around and ate
candy. Or popcorn. Like I was at the movies." She was so warm, her
body pressed to mine that way, so soft. "But how about if we went past
the two week mark? Hmmm? How about if I just keep teasing you, make
you stay in panties, naturally, and perhaps add to your sissy wardrobe.
We could go on a fun shopping trip and get you lots of pretty things to
wear. How about all that and as a reward..." She looked thoughtful.
"If you're really well behaved I would let you not only eat my pussy
but..." She paused and I was honestly so naïve that I thought she was
going to offer me full access to her body, but instead she concluded
with... "you could also use your mouth on my ass."

I made a disappointed sound but my penis was trying to get hard inside
its cage, I was so excited. Tess let her lips brush against mine. She
was so affectionate. My girlfriend said, "You know I love you, Bobby."
I said, utterly under her spell, "I know. I love you, too." "But
here's the thing. We need to be absolutely honest with each other. And
with ourselves. So I want you to think about it before you answer.
Bobby..." She waited portentously before finishing, "... how about if I
keep you in chastity indefinitely. Because maybe that's exactly what
you want." My mind froze. I hadn't considered that I might honestly
want to be kept chaste, to be denied sex while I provided her with all
the climaxes she desired, that I might even want to prolong my
virginity... indefinitely. But all at once I knew the truth. I did
want that. And I told her so.

Tess smiled and kissed me lightly on the forehead. She stepped back at
last and said, "Just for being so honest, I'm going to give you
something special to wear. Let's go to the bedroom." I followed her,
stunned by what I had just admitted to myself and to her. That's when I
got my next shock, when she handed me panties with a silly cottontail on
them. "Put them on, Bobby Bunny," she ordered. I stepped into the
foolish garment, thinking about how I had almost no body hair, and how
that probably added to my appeal to Tess. Next she gave me a white
vest, trimmed in pink faux fur, to add to the rabbit look. Then there
were slippers in the same fuzzy material and, to complete the costume,
bunny ears on a plastic headband. She stepped back and said, "You look
adorable. Now undress me and we can move ahead with your devotion to my
body and my pleasure. Just think, while you're sliding your tongue all
over my pussy lips, you'll get to have your hands on my hips, and maybe
sneak them down to my bottom. I bet that'll be a thrill for you. At
least I hope it will, Bobby Bunny, because from now on that's going to
be your sex life, my cute virgin."

I knew she was right, and that my devotion to her pretty face and zaftig
figure would only increase. I was hooked, in panties, in chastity,
willing to wear any sissy outfit she decided on, and ready to forego
entering full manhood by endlessly postponing the loss of my virginity.
All for Tess. My Queen. I said again, "I love you." After that my
mouth was otherwise occupied. She answered, "I love you too, pretty
Bunny." And then she was too busy gasping and purring to speak. And I
did get to touch her hips. And bottom. And even her well-padded
thighs. Life was good.














MEXICAN SHORTCUT

By Throne

Our Mexican vacation had been my idea. Or at least that's what I
thought. I realize now that my wife Angeles had planted the idea in my
mind. I like women who look like her, short, with olive-colored skin,
dark hair, and figures with exaggerated busts and bottoms. Not only do I
find that look exciting but, being short myself, I appreciate having
someone I don't have to literally look up to. She kept k**ding me about
how a trip south of the border would let me ogle as much of that type as
I could stand. She even hinted that, when I got wildly aroused, as she
knew I would, she would be there to help me release all my sexual
tension. Besides, she speaks fluent Spanish and I don't know any, so I
would have an expert translator. Well, I took the bait and we were soon
in a small city, staying in an excellent hotel. Every time we left our
room I got an eyeful of my favorite type of female. I told my wife, "I
hope you aren't going to get jealous, Angel." She gave me her wide
charming smile and said, "I know there won't be any problems."

Why wasn't she worried about me gawking at all those lovely senoritas? I
mean, I had flirted shamelessly with some of her Latina girlfriends at
home and come close to cheating more than once. The only reason I hadn't
stepped over the line was that Angel always took care of my voracious
appetites, even though I wanted it more than she did. Actually, she
wanted it too, but she wished I would go down on her, something I didn't
like at all and had never done. So our sex life was unbalanced in that
way. But I always reminded her that she had my impressively large cock
to do the job and should be happy with that. So there we were in Mexico,
with me having more fun than her while I went along to the art museums
and tourist sites, but all the time I was thrilling to the female sights.
I couldn't wait to bed my gorgeous wife and let off the steam that was
building up inside me.

The first evening she pleaded weariness at bedtime. It had been a long
day so I honestly couldn't fault her for that. She gave me a consoling
kiss, rubbing her big bust against my chest, and I went to sleep horny.
The next day and night were the same. I was getting very frustrated. It
was on the third day, after breakfast, that I started to feel ill. She
said she had seen something like it before, when she had visited the
country six months earlier to see relatives, and that I should go to a
hospital. I couldn't argue with that and soon I was registered. The
paperwork went smoothly and they got me a room at once. Then a nurse
came in to administer a shot. My wife couldn't help but notice that,
even while feeling poorly, I was staring at the young woman's boobs and
butt, well displayed in her traditional uniform. Instead of getting
irritated, Angel gave me an understanding smile, behind which I though I
detected some other emotion. A white-coated doctor came in and spoke
with my wife in rapid-fire Spanish, ignoring me. At the end of their
conversation he glanced at me with a puzzled expression, shook his head,
and walked out.

The shot took effect and I drifted off into medicated sleep. It seemed
like only minutes passed before I work up again, in that familiar
antiseptic room. My head lolled on the pillow and I looked up at my
alluring wife, who was smiling down at me, her expression definitely
wicked and... vindictive? She told me, "Everything went extremely well,
dear. There was something wrong with your male plumbing, but the problem
has been fixed... permanently. They say you will be a new man and I
believe them." Her words made sense but she seemed to be saying
something else at the same time. I didn't fully understand but was glad
I didn't have anything serious wrong with me. Angel said that we could
go back to the hotel in a few hours and enjoy the rest of our vacation
before returning home. "One thing, though," she pointed out, "is that
the bandages will have to stay on until we're back in the States, so you
won't be able to hop on top of me and get your rocks off for a while."
She leaned over me, her full bust temptingly close, and whispered hotly
in my ear, "We can look forward to getting back to business after we're
in our own bed. I know I'LL be thinking about it all the time until
then."

The way she said that got ME thinking about it non-stop. I was already
rammy from several days without any release. Now I started to feel like
a penned up bull. I sighed as she leaned closer and delivered an air
kiss several inches from my lips. It felt odd to have her in charge that
way. I was accustomed to being the one calling the shots in our physical
relationship. She even patted the middle of my chest before another cute
nurse entered the room to give me some fruit juice. It was a blend of
tropical flavors, a local product, and my wife and I started to discuss
that and how we wanted to sample more native cuisine before our trip was
over. I tried to keep my mind off sex but it wasn't easy. In fact, it
was impossible. My bottled up passion was still mounting. I needed to
get laid. Oh, well, I told myself, waiting would make it that much
sweeter when I finally got to give my Angel a proper pumping with my big
cock.

The rest of the vacation went nicely, despite my growing neediness. We
sent a bunch of postcards and then went home and got settled back in.
The hospital had given my bride written instructions for removing the
bandages and cleaning up the area, but they were printed in Spanish so I
couldn't read them. I was tempted to use the computer to try to
translate, because of those few moments of her acting odd in the
hospital, but after we were back in the States she acted extra seductive
so I focused more on that than on my concerns, which were probably
imaginary anyway. At last the big night came and it was time for, as she
called it, 'The Unveiling'. Angel told me that the doctors had assured
her that I would be fully functional right away and that we could
celebrate my return to 'normalcy', though she spoke that last word with a
curious inflection, as if she was saying that matters wouldn't be so
normal.

In the bedroom she got me naked. Angel was wearing an impossibly hot,
clinging item of lingerie that I guess you would call a teddy. It had an
open crotch and I couldn't stop stealing peeks at her pussy, though I
tried not to be too obvious about it. The last situation I wanted was
for her to be put off by my open lust. I mean, I had always been rather
demanding in the bedroom, making her assume inventive positions and even
wear kinky outfits. In fact, I was already thinking about pushing that
envelope a bit further when she snipped the bandages, making a joke about
not wanting to 'damage the merchandise', and dabbed me with alcohol and
then applied a washrag wetted with warm water. My wife playfully stroked
my chest, getting me aroused, and then hesitated. She said, "You look a
little different down there. Maybe you should just check yourself, real
quick, in the mirror. And then we can party." I was disappointed to
have to wait even an extra minute, but also concerned about anything that
might have changed in the region of my thick eight inches.

When I got out of bed she opened the closet so I could use the full-
length mirror on the inside of its door. I was horrified to see my
crotch, which had been denuded of hair for the procedure, where my
genitals were indeed, 'a little different'. I gaped at a one inch penis,
below which I could see no balls. My mouth hung open. I looked at my
wife and she just tilted her head to the side, smiled, and shrugged. "I
didn't want to upset you and ruin the vacation but, well, they had to do
kind of a lot of work. You had some sort of condition and this surgery
was absolutely necessary. But don't worry dear, they told me how we can
continue to have a full and satisfying love life. Really." Then she
said something in Spanish that, as always, I didn't understand.

My head was spinning as she led me back to the bed and helped me to lay
face-up. Angel said, "Here, honey, let me show you that everything down
there still works." Her small soft hand went to the juncture of my legs
and she began to massage me gently. At once my cock sprang to life. She
took my hand and placed it over the hard organ. Except that what was
hard was less than two inches long. My fingers explored lower and I felt
no testicles. She told me it had been medically necessary to relocate
them inside my body... 'for health reasons'. I couldn't believe what I
was hearing and feeling. "Don't worry," she assured me, "you'll still be
a man to me. Sort of. And naturally we won't breath a word of this to
anyone else. Sure, you won't want to go to the tennis club, you know,
because of the locker room, but I don't foresee any radical changes in
our lifestyle. We just have to switch to a different way for
lovemaking."

With that she knelt over my hips, her moist pussy positioned over my
ridiculously short penis. My male ego had been crushed. I felt weak and
helpless, pliable and dependent. She lowered herself to rub her mound
against my shrunken member and I gasped with the shock of extreme
stimulation. She said sweetly, "See, darling? You can still feel
everything. Maybe even more powerfully than before, now that your
attention is concentrated in a much... smaller... area." Angel giggled
and lowered herself all the way, so that my erect one-quarter-of-a-penis
was inside her. She rocked back and forth atop it, making my libido go
wild. Then she looked down at me sympathetically and said, "You can feel
everything but... well... you won't have the same ability to finish. You
know, because they had to stuff your balls up inside you, where they're
going to stay."

The way she made that last remark didn't match the sympathy she had put
onto her face. I was confused and unable to gather my wits, or assert
myself in any way. Angel rose up off my penis and, still on her knees,
repositioned herself over my face. I could smell the womanly fragrance
of her wet slit. She dropped down until her dark pubic hair tickled my
nose. Then she said, in a no-nonsense way, "From now on, Richard, I am
going to have to have MY needs met, and the only way for you to do that
will be with your mouth. You know I'm a passionate woman, so we will be
in here frequently, with me where I am right now. And you WILL please
me. That, too, will be our little secret." The implication, as I saw
it, was that if I didn't cooperate, she would leak the information about
my changed status to someone, to lots of someones. I shuddered at the
thought of everyone knowing what had happened to me. I would become a
freakish laughingstock. In a show of submission I extended my tongue
upward, barely making contact with her pussy, tasting for the first time
its salty distinctive flavor. I whimpered as she settled herself down
atop my mouth and began to give me instructions in a soft calming voice.

Three orgasms later she was satisfied. Angel dismounted and left me
there, my lower face slicked with her copious juices. She lay alongside
me and began to toy with my penis, saying cheerfully, "It's so small. No
woman would be able to look at it without laughing. But I'll take good
care of you, baby. I'll make sure you get your fun. The thing is,
though, that I think you'll be a better pussy eater if I keep you horny.
VERY horny. So for right now we'll hold off on giving you any cums and
just concentrate on me. But I'll give you lots and lots of teasing to
keep your sexual temperature high. VERY high." She giggled, which
seemed disrespectful, considering my difficult position, but I didn't say
anything. I really did feel like I was at her mercy. At that moment,
while I was at my weakest, she hopped out of bed, stretched -- which made
her beautiful breasts strain against the filmy lingerie, and said, "We
also have to discuss a change in your wardrobe." There was no
discussion. She simply said, "I can't see you in boxers or even jockey
shorts with how little you have between your legs... sweetheart. So I
have some panties that I bought for myself, but I got the wrong size, and
they'll be a perfect fit for you. Let me grab them for you and I'm sure
I'll love the way you look in them."

Feeling numb and still possessed by that sense of vulnerability, I
watched her go to the dresser, my eyes on her round protruding bottom,
and get a small pink bag from that popular ladies' shop in the nearby
mall. She reached inside and came out with a pair of high-cut, pink
panties with the word CUTE embroidered down one side. She grinned at me
and said, "I think these'll do it. After all, that tiny thing the
doctors left you with is pretty 'cute'. She held them out to me and
ordered, her voice firmer, "Put them on, honeybunch." I wasn't sure if I
was supposed to stand up or stay where I was, and didn't feel up to
making a decision. I took them and pulled up one leg, to put my foot
into the lightweight garment, realizing belatedly that I was making a
spectacle of myself in that posture, like a woman trying to get attention
while she dressed. Even so, I got them on that way, working them up and
lifting my bottom to pull them the rest of the way over my hips. I lay
there passively, still tasting her pussy, and looked to Angel for
approval. She said, "Yes, that's exactly the effect I was hoping for.
I'm going to keep you in panties from now on, Richard. Or should I
say..." She paused thoughtfully, before deciding, "... Rosita." She
snickered at how clever she found that, giving me a Spanish name. I
could only return a weak smile, hoping to get her on my side.

The next day she declared that we were going out shopping, to get me some
additional clothing that was appropriate to my new status. I wasn't
happy about it but still didn't feel up to opposing her. We got into the
car but, unlike what I was accustomed to, she took the wheel. I sat
there with my knees pressed together, aware of how laughably small my
penis was, remembering what she had said about no woman wanting me as a
sex partner, and unable to stop thinking about how she had put me into
panties. Oh, and I was wearing a fresh pair. These ones said LOVELY.
She mentioned as we were on the road that I would be hand washing my
'dainty underthings'. Our destination, I was unhappy to discover, was a
small shop that specialized in women's fashions for young females who
wanted to... well... to look flashy. As soon as we went inside the
striking, slightly older Latina woman behind the counter recognized her
and asked how I had liked that sexy lingerie she had bought, which I
realized was what Angel had been wearing the night before. My wife
switched to Spanish and they chattered away happily with me standing
there not understanding a single word.

My wife nodded toward my crotch and the woman, Estrella, went wide-eyed,
then laughed. They talked a bit more before I was led to the back room,
which was nicely decorated and had several mirrors, where I was left
alone while they went to pick fashions for me. I couldn't stop picturing
Estrella, her full figure, exotic eyes, full lips, and long black hair
pulled up in a bun at the top of her head. When they returned they each
held several items. Estrella told me with cool authority to strip. I
looked to my wife for support, to be told I didn't have to demean myself
that way, but she just smirked at me. With great reluctance I began
unbuttoning my shirt. Soon I was down to just the panties I was wearing,
shamefully conscious that my diminished penis showed as only a tiny bump,
fearing how it would appear when I shucked my last bit of covering. The
women were unrelenting, so down came the panties. I blushed and Estrella
gave a snorting laugh. She pointed at my shame and said something in
Spanish to Angel, who answered, whatever she said provoking laughter from
both of them.

Estrella handed me a pair of panties that were covered with ruffles. I
stepped into them. My wife spoke to her and rubbed my thigh. I looked
down and noticed that there was no longer any hair in that area. What
had been shaved off my crotch wasn't growing back. In fact, I was pink
and smooth all over, presumably another effect of what had been done to
me in Mexico. Next my wife gave me a camisole, which I put on over my
head. It was covered with bright vertical stripes, no two in the same
color. The panties were apricot, so I made a vivid picture. They had me
strut around, my wife telling me to walk as if I had her Lucite slippers
on. I used a feminine walk, my hips rolling and my chest outthrust.
Estrella made me hold my arms out slightly to the sides with my wrists
limp. It was disgraceful but I had no alternative. The woman from the
shop produced a cell phone and took numerous pictures. Then they
assisted me into a pair of super-tight Capri pants and had me model those
as well, with more pictures being taken. They kept it up until I had
modeled a half dozen outfits, all of which Angel bought, paying with my
charge card. She pointed out to me that she had chosen pieces that could
be mixed and matched, so I would have a new look every day.

Back at home I could see that my new life wasn't going to end. She
intended to keep my in this role, feminized and subservient, a sex slave
who could hope for rewards in the bedroom but might never get them.
There was a knock at the door and it was a delivery man with a package
that had to be signed for. It was in my name so my wife made me do it.
At the time I was wearing shorts and a tank top, both obviously intended
for a female, as well as sandals with blocky heels two inches high. I
felt utterly humiliated as the driver stared at me with undisguised
loathing. I wanted to run away and hide but, instead, thanked him in a
soft voice. My wife opened the taped package, as if I wasn't competent
to do it, now being such a wuss. Inside were several bottles which I saw
contained pills and capsules. She opened one of them and had me go to
the kitchen to get myself a glass of water. I was told to take two
orange pills and did so without complaint. What was I putting into my
body and how would it affect me? I wasn't sure I wanted to know.

******

After two weeks on those d**gs, my skin was softer and I had absolutely
no body hair. My chest had grown soft and my bottom felt like it was
filling out. Angel taught me to pluck my eyebrows, not a lot but just
enough to shape them somewhat, making me appear even less masculine. My
vacation ended and she called my boss, explaining that I was going
through some personal changes, getting in touch with my feminine side,
and she hoped he would understand. If I needed to be switched to less
demanding work she said she would understand. He had met her a few times
and was attracted to her, which I suppose was one of the reasons he was
so accommodating. At the end of the conversation she even became
slightly flirtatious. When I returned to the office I was allowed to
handle most of my accounts, although the largest and most profitable had
been handed off to an overachieving woman. I would be earning less but
Angel had revealed that she was managing my investments and doing much
better than I ever had, which was yet another blow to my already
shattered ego. My co-workers all noticed my altered appearance and I was
aware of their eyes on me as they tried to figure out what was happening.

By the middle of that week my wife had invited a friend of hers, Lupe, to
come around and watch me several evenings a week. I had met her
previously and was very aware of her abundant charms. She looked like
Angel, if my wife had gained about twenty pounds and almost all of it had
gone to her already impressive curves. Lupe took one look at me and
said, "Hola, Rosita." I hugged myself and muttered a greeting in
response. The two women gabbed a while in Spanish and then my wife got
ready to leave. She was nicely dressed, with large hoop earrings and a
glittering necklace that drew attention to her exposed cleavage. As she
went out the door, Lupe said, "Have fun clubbing with the other girls.
And watch out for those oversexed men." My spouse told her, "Ha.
They'll have to look out for me." Oh no. Angel was going out with some
of her girlfriends, to a club, and would be surrounded by horny guys who
were all planning to bed the women they met. I felt queasy at the
possibilities of what might occur. Lupe said she would take my mind off
all that, and her method was to assign me endless chores, all the while
badgering me and occasionally using a paddle on my backside. All I had
on was a fishnet body stocking that flaunted my hairless pink physique
and how soft it was continuing to become, with my chest and butt becoming
ever more girl-like.

The first night my wife returned and reported that she had talked to some
attractive men and let them touch her arms and shoulders. The next time
she bragged how she had kissed one stud, letting him run his hands up and
down her body and feel her butt. After each of those dates she made
demands on me, insisting that I lick her through one climax after
another, and even kiss her butt, gradually moving my mouth from her broad
cheeks to the valley between them for prolonged service. But it was her
third night out that brought the news I had been dreading. She showed up
looking disheveled and smilingly showed Lupe that she had brought her
panties home in her shoulder bag. I was in shock as she described going
to the apartment of the man who she let pick her up, doing an impromptu
strip tease for him, and then having wild sex. She laughed at me and
reminded me that I was no longer man enough to do that for her. She told
Lupe that she was taking me into the bedroom so I could give her a 'bonus
orgasm', at the same time cleaning up the messy deposit of cum that had
been spurted into her pussy. I grabbed my tummy and shook my head, but
Lupe took a heavy wooden kitchen spoon and gave my bottom --
unfortunately not covered at the time -- a dozen hard swats, which
convinced me that cooperation would facilitate self-preservation.

In the bedroom my wife made fun of me and blurted out that my predicament
had been planned and staged to leave me the way I was. She had been
pissed off at my selfishness in bed and my generally overinflated sense
of self-importance. This was her revenge and she intended to keep
inflicting it for the rest of our marriage, which she meant to continue
for many years. I was devastated. Perhaps, at some level, I had
suspected her wicked intentions. But ever since our return from Mexico I
hadn't felt able to stand up to her. Now it was hopeless. She laid back
on our bed and I humbly crawled between her out-flung shapely legs,
getting my mouth directly in front of her oozing pussy and giving it
several tender kisses, tokens of my final surrender, before I commenced
the unappetizing task of lapping another man's spunk out of her body and
swallowing it, giving her an orgasm while I was denied my own.

SIX MONTHS LATER

Angel sends me to work in women's clothes. My hair has grown in and she
has it styled at a salon, where I am the center of ******** attention.
That man who Angel slept with, a tall muscular Black man named Cannon,
comes to the house several nights a week. Either he takes her out or
they stay in, but either way their evenings end with the two of them in
her bedroom, having sex that goes on and on. I called it 'her' bedroom
because they often sleep there and I have to curl up on the floor of a
walk-in closet nearby, close enough to hear them if they wake up and have
more sex. On the nights when Cannon isn't there, I am allowed to sleep
alongside the bed on a fluffy doggie bed on the floor. At those times
I'm dressed in particularly showy lingerie with creative touches added,
like ribbons tied around my wrists and ankles, a big bow under my chin,
or my hair tied up with strands of colorful yarn. She takes pictures of
me like that and shows them to Cannon, whose deep hearty laugh stings me
every time I hear it. Lupe still comes when my wife is going to be out,
but now I am required to serve her orally as well, and she likes having
her ass pampered even more than my wife does. I'm afraid I'm becoming
addicted to being their body slave. I actually crave those demeaning
encounters with them.

My own sex life has finally been restarted, if you can call it that.
Angel lets me attempt masturbation, even though she knows that, no matter
how much I can stimulate myself, I'm not capable of finishing that way.
She does it to give her one more thing about me to laugh at and taunt me
about. The only way I can cum is for her to use a strap-on dildo and
take me from behind, which she delights in doing, calling me her bitch
and slapping my hips, which are now quite fleshy. I also have modest
breasts and can fill an A-cup bra. My life is an unending nightmare of
humiliation and sexual slavery. But, as I said before, she is getting me
hooked on it, and is thrilled every time she notices me responding to
something that, a half a year ago, would have repulsed me. She even has
me requesting that she **** my ass, just so I can dribble out a few drops
of watery cum and get partial relief, as much as an incomplete orgasm can
offer. She also had me pleading to be allowed to suck Cannon's discharge
from her, even though I know she's going to make me do it, because she
begins by suggesting that maybe she will cut me off from even the
perverse sexual contact of using my mouth all over her body. With my
heightened sex drive and inability to gain real satisfaction, I am always
desperate for whatever scraps, so to speak, she will offer me. My idea
of a rewarding evening is one that ends with me snuggled up behind her in
bed, my face between her warm butt cheeks, pleasuring her with my tongue
and hoping that she will drift off to sleep so I can stay there for an
extra hour before being sent off the mattress and back to my fuzzy pink
doggy bed, where I will lie curled up, whimpering, knowing that the
unhappy noises I make will titillate her and get her warmed up for her
next night with her lover.

THE END

































HELPLESS HUSBANDS

by Throne

WENDELL IS NOW WENDY (inspired by the Art of Sissy-Cuck)

Wendell was upset. His wife Talia had dressed him in an especially girly
outfit. Perched atop his head was a yellow cap with a short brim in the
front. His upper body was covered -- sort of -- by a clinging apricot
top with spaghetti straps. It ended several inches above his belly
button. Below that was a pair of red mini-shorts that rode low on his
hips and invaded the cleft of his bottom. His smooth shaved legs were
uncovered and on his feet he wore open-toed pink sandals with two-inch
block heels. It was bad enough she made him dress up, but couldn't she
at least let him have something like a plain sweater and slacks? Of
course she couldn't. Talia wanted him to look the way he did because she
wanted her date, Mack, to be the only real man in the house.

She called from their upstairs bedroom, "Wendy, come here. Right this
minute." Taking careful steps, which that footwear forced him to do, he
hurried to go to her. Wendell was aware of how his walk became feminine,
his slender hips rolling, and how his legs were reshaped, made less
masculine, when he had on those sandals. It added to his unhappy state
but what could he do. She had decided six months ago that, because he
was a dud in bed, and because he was always fussing about one thing or
another, she would have to take control of him. The best way to do that,
Talia had declared, would be to take him out of male clothing, to deflate
his manly ego. He wanted to stand up to her but had never been a
forceful person. Besides, he was desperate to get back into her good
graces so he could have another chance at proving himself as a lover.
The eternal optimist.

It had started slowly, with panties under male clothing. Then there were
unisex outfits. Wendell had not liked it but went along to keep the
peace. When he tried to negotiate some kind of agreement about their sex
life, she pointed out that his dick was embarrassingly small, he didn't
know how to use it, and everything was always over in a few minutes.
That was when she suggested (thought the idea wasn't open to debate) that
he should start using his mouth on her snatch. It was something he
didn't want to think about, let alone try, but she was insistent.
Wendell gave in almost immediately and that evening he got his first
taste, figuratively and literally, of oral sex. Talia loved it and
decided he would be performing for her on a regular basis. Also, because
she felt that keeping him horny would make him better at it, she revoked
all his rights to have intercourse.

He was thinking about all that as he went to her. When he got there,
however, his mind was taken over by what he saw. Talia was standing at
her dresser with her back to him, naked. His wife's long red hair was up
in a **** atop her head, baring her smooth neck. Her broad pink-white
back made him lick his lips. But it was her wide round bottom that made
him feel weak. He was obsessed with her sitter, how large and sexy it
was. Her legs were full and shapely as well. His little dick twitched
as he ogled her up and down. She turned halfway, giving him a side view
of one DDD breast, which added to his yearning. She smirked at him and
commented, "I can't wait for Mack to see you looking so pretty."

He wrung his hands and pleaded, "Please, if I could just... get rid of
the hat?" "No," she responded, intentionally mistaking his meaning. "I
know you want to show off your hair now that it's getting longer, but I
don't have time to style it." He could only hang his head in defeat.
She snapped at him, "Posture, Wendy. Please get my top off the bed." He
handed it to her shakily. Wasn't she going to put on a bra under it?
Obviously not, he realized as she tugged it down over her heavy breasts.
She adjusted them to her satisfaction, remarking that she knew Mack would
love the way they looked, "Especially how my nipples poke out against the
fabric. You know, Wendy, you should make sure I'm nice and turned on for
him. Get down on your knees and give my peach a few kisses. You've
gotten SO good at that." He shuddered but did as she instructed. She
moved her feet well apart. As his lips touched her mound she sighed and
he moaned. Talia smiled at how much control she was asserting over him.

After he had brought her to the verge of orgasm she kicked him onto his
back. With him staring up at her, she stuffed her overweight lower half
into tight stretch pants, then stepped into red shoes with tall
stilettos. Wendell had to stand and watch while she made up her roundish
face, applying enough cosmetics to give herself a slightly trampy look.
He hated when she did that. Well, he wouldn't have minded if it was to
turn on him. But she did it strictly for Mack, who got a kick out of
having her look sluttish. And act the same way, which she was happy to
do for the big man. After her face was done and she had let down her
hair, which fell to the middle of her back, she went to work on her
husband's features. Talia started by darkening his eyebrows, which she
had previously thinned and shaped. Then she used shadow on his eyelids
and liner around his eyes. She also thickened his lashes with liquid
mascara. A bit of blush went onto his cheeks. Finally came his mouth.
She carefully outlined his lips and then used bright scarlet lipstick to
fill in the bowed shape she had made. Over the already eye-catching
color she put a coating of gloss. Poor Wendell looked wildly girlish.
But with his hair untouched, and his chest flat, plus the slight bump in
the crotch of his panties, it was plain that he was a guy.

She made him brush her hair for five minutes before declaring herself
ready for her lover, adding, "I want to make him hungry for me, Wendy. I
want him to think about eating me up. Of course, he'll be doing it above
my waist. I reserve all the eating below there for YOU, my sweet sissy."
He whined, "Please, Talia, I don't want him to see me like this. You
know how he laughs at me and makes cruel jokes." "Of course I know. And
he knows how much it turns me on when he acts tough and in control like
that. The more he does it, the hotter I get. And the hotter I get, the
more fun it is for him when we hit the sheets." Wendell's shoulders
sagged as he admitted, "You're right. It's just that I don't want..."
He realized that he was simply going to make his previous complaint with
different words, so he shut up. When Talia got mad at him she wasn't
nice. She reminded him about his posture again, making him stand
straight. Then she decided to make his body language match his
appearance more closely.

"Wendy," she said with a smirk, "put your hands on your hips. That's
cute. Now stick out your butt. And walk around but put one foot right
in front of the other every time you take a step. Ohhh, that looks even
sexier than usual." She was still chuckling at his humiliation when
there was a loud knock at the front door. Mack had his own key but he
loved to make Wendell let him in. The harried husband went as fast as
he could on those two-inch heels. He got to the door, tried to compose
himself, and opened it. There stood Mack, looking down on him and
sneering. He had on a leather jacket and jeans, along with motorcycle
boots. Mack shook his head and marveled, "I didn't think you could look
any faggier, but you do. What a lame fruit." Wendell cringed and
invited him in, walking ahead of him and aware of Mack watching his
swishing gait.

Talia had gone to the bedroom. As soon as the lovers were together,
Talia and Mack threw their arms around each other and locked lips. He
ran his hands down her back to that generous protruding bottom. The
moment they stepped away from each other, she snapped at Wendell, "Get
Mack a beer, you stupid geek. Look at you, dressed up like the queen of
Gay Town. I have absolutely no respect for you." He whispered, "Yes,
Dear," and scurried away, still hampered by his footwear but remembering
to maintain his sissyish walk. When he returned the couple were
undressing each other. He stood by silently, seeing his wife's
stupendous curves uncovered. Mack finally grabbed his beer and popped
the top to take a long swallow. He told Talia, "Your wimpy, ass-wagging,
limp-wristed husband is a total waste. You make him get tarted up like a
pansy hooker looking for rough trade and he just lets you. And now he's
going to have to stand there and watch me bang you until you holler."
"Yeah," she agreed. "He's a complete failure at being a man."

Wendell ran his hands nervously over his thighs and licked his lips,
tasting the cheap cosmetics she had put on his mouth. She glared at him
and said, "What? Do you have something to say... Wendy?" He took a deep
breath and pleaded, "Please, don't make me watch. I can't stand it." "I
know, peanut-dick. That's why I keep you in the bedroom while a real man
takes care of me. Because you CAN'T stand it. I hope you cry. That
always gives me an extra good climax. Are you going to cry for me,
Wendy? Squeeze out some tears?" Her trembling husband sniffled and told
her, "I can't help it, Talia. Please. Just let me leave the room."
Talia laughed cruelly and assured him, "No way. That is NOT going to
happen. Now reach under your cute top and play with your girly nipples,
Wendy. Let's see if you can get a hard on while you watch Mack and his
monster cock make me happy." Wendell did as he was told. He felt a
tingle in his crotch as he stimulated himself. This was a new an
particularly insulting humiliation. His wife never seemed to run out of
fresh ideas to disgrace him. And he guessed she never would.

******

CHAN'S WAY (inspired by the Art of Nimrod)

Carl's new Mother-in-Law insisted he call her Mistress Chan. A few days
after he married her lovely daughter, Lotus, she moved in and took over,
while the new bride went to stay with a girlfriend. Now the older woman
was shouting at him to come upstairs. He was in the basement, standing
at a workbench, with several pairs of her boots in front of him,
cleaning, polishing and buffing their sleek leather surfaces. Carl
stepped away from his labors. Moving was not easy. She had dressed him
in especially restrictive garments.

He had on a snug leather dress that covered him from the high collar that
chafed at his neck, all the way down to the tight hem that hugged his
ankles. It featured a corset waist, which she had tightened until he
felt like he was being cut in half. The interior of the garment was
rough and unfinished, so that it rubbed his bare skin uncomfortably. He
was hot and could feel droplets of sweat running down the middle of his
back and between his bottom cheeks. Worse, she had made him wear high
heels that were two sizes too small, which pinched his feet painfully.

But he had to respond when she called. The cruel woman had beaten his
backside with a bamboo cane before she put him into the dress. He
certainly didn't want to incur another punishment like that. Or
something worse. So Carl, taking tiny steps, with the dress rubbing
against his already irritated flesh, moved toward the steps. There was a
small round hole cut into the front of the dress, through which his
flaccid penis protruded. He couldn't even call out to tell her he was on
his way, because she had stuffed a ball gag into his mouth, one big
enough to keep his jaws jacked wide apart. He took each step carefully,
every movement costing him the maximum effort. At the same time, the
tall collar prevented him from looking down to see where his feet were.
She hollered again, saying, "Hurry up, useless slug. Move lazy ass
faster." His breath hissed from his nostrils and he moaned behind the
gag.

When he was at last a few steps from the top, he came into sight of the
mirror she had made him mount on the inside of the basement door.
Confronting him was his plump reddened face, eyes wide from exertion,
perspiration sheening his features. His hair had been shaved off, the
job done personally by his Mother-in-Law. She had left a tassel on top,
which had been dyed bright yellow and was now pulled up and held that way
by two little red bows, one above the other. If that didn't make him
look foolish and unmanly enough, she had also applied generous amounts of
cosmetics. His eyes were lined by black, the lids tinted blue. His
eyebrows had been shaved and replaced by high arches painted on his
forehead. There were bright pink circles of rouge on his cheeks. Most
upsetting to him, she had drawn a large cupid's bow around his mouth and
filled it in with garishly bright magenta lipstick, which was then
covered with a coating of shiny clear gloss.

He continued on, tottering slightly on the heels, his calves sore from
the strain they caused. At last he reached her. She was lounging in the
recliner that had formerly been his exclusively. Now he wasn't even
allowed to lean on it. Mistress Chan was a matronly figure, her hair
piled high and held in place with some stiff preparation. She wore make-
up only a bit more subtle than his own. Her busty upper body was tightly
encased in a faux-leopard blouse, below which her waist was clutched by a
wide, black leather belt. Below that, her flaring hips and full thighs
were squeezed into a red leather skirt that ended above her knees. He
couldn't keep from looking hungrily at her calves, covered by smoky
stockings, and her feet, shod in crimson heels that he had buffed early
that morning while she was still asleep. As he gazed at her his exposed
member began to harden. He couldn't help it. Because his bride had
denied him sex and his Mother-in-Law had denied him any chance to gain
relief, he was acutely in need. His prick continued to rise until it was
at full stiffness.

She eyed it disapprovingly and said, "Filthy pig. It is not bad enough
that you lust for daughter, but now you crave mother." He wanted to deny
her words but could not. His interest in Chan had been growing daily.
She pantomimed spitting at his crotch, even making a disgusted sound
effect. He cringed. She set her jaw and gave him a threatening look.
He realized belatedly what she wanted, and began to bow, going as low as
the dress would permit. After a half dozen uncomfortable efforts he
stopped and waited to learn why she had summoned him. Chan rose from the
chair and stood close enough for him to inhale the strong inexpensive
scent she wore. The haughty woman said, "My friends are coming. You
will serve us tea and cookies. You will show great respect." She went
to the sofa and picked up something that was lying there. It was a
small, frilly white apron, which she promptly tied around his waist, all
the while muttering darkly. Then she took a little lace cap that had
been alongside it and fitted it on his shaved head. It stayed in place
and was low enough that the embarrassing length of hair still showed
above it.

Carl was horrified that other women were going to see him that way. He
felt burning shame whenever he was dressed in feminine outfits, which was
frequently. Chan made him do housework every day, always presiding over
him with some instrument of discipline. Now she took one of her riding
crops from a hook on the wall and brandished it menacingly. She smacked
his posterior and, though the leather absorbed some of the force, his
buttocks were so tender from their recent caning that he still flinched
and grimaced. She smiled as she herded him toward the kitchen. When
they got there he had to take a three-tiered serving plate from a low
cabinet, the effort of bending down making him struggle for breath. Then
he had to reach into a tall cabinet to get the box of cookies. As he
began to arrange them on the tiers, under Chan's critical inspection, she
casually lit a cigarette and inserted it into a long ebony holder. She
disrespectfully blew smoke into his face.

When the cookies were all in place, he made tea and put cups onto a
serving tray. Chan huffed disapprovingly at his efforts. No matter what
he did, she invariably found fault. But there wasn't much time, so she
didn't inflict any added punishment. After the preparations were done
she had him don leather gloves that buttoned to the sleeves of his dress.
They were stiff and made it hard for him to flex his fingers. The
doorbell rang and she barked at him to answer it. "Move, mindless cow."
He did his best, the dress continuing to torment him. Waiting
impatiently outside the door were three of Chan's friends, all from her
homeland, all looking much like her. They wore flashy outfits and cheap
showy jewelry. Carl had to bow to each one as they sneered and flung
insults while passing by. He followed them wordlessly, in abject
humiliation. To have them look at him, dressed the way he was, robbed of
all power, but with that ******** erection on display, was the depths of
degradation for him. He blinked back tears of disgrace as they seated
themselves around the den. Chan snapped her fingers and told him, "Bring
cookies, useless lump of fat." He bowed again as he backed out of the
room, afraid that he would lose his balance.

As he returned with the cookies they were chatting, and ignored him like
he wasn't even there. He went from one to the next, offering the snacks,
which they took and set on paper napkins atop their thick thighs. His
penis twitched as he moved to each of them. After that he had to perform
the same way with the tea, pushing the pot and tray of cups on a wheeled
cart. The women clucked at his slowness, even though it was the fault of
his shoes, that constricting dress, and especially the hampering gloves.
At last it was done and he moved the cart and himself to an inconspicuous
spot in the corner. They gabbed for a while and then one of them
declared, "Your slave-maid smells like sweat. I have something to fix
that." Chan snarled at Carl, "Hai! Go to her, stinking one." With
trepidation he put himself in front of the woman indicated. She rummaged
in her oversized fashion bag and came out with a spray bottle of perfume.
She made him bend low so she could apply it. It was pineapple scented,
overbearingly strong, and she used it liberally, so that he ended up
reeking of the fruity stuff. Now he felt even less like a man. They
laughed at him and made jokes in their own language, which he didn't
understand a word of. His legs started trembling.

Another of the women declared that she had a 'gift' for him too. It
proved to be a nose ring, which she clipped shut with a half in each
nostril, it's points jabbing into his septum. He groaned behind his ball
gag and tried not to let his pain show too much, lest his weakness
inspire them to punish him. The last woman grinned devilishly as she
announced that she also had something to give him. It was a small bell
on a fine chain, which she attached to the ring in his nose. The bell
hung just below his chin and tinkled whenever he moved. Chan made him
hobble around, cleaning up crumbs with a tiny brush and dustpan she
provided. He was absolutely humiliated to have to perform that way, like
the lowest menial, while being seen by those females. His discomfort was
constant, so that each time he took a step or bent down he grunted,
groaned, sniffled and inhaled noisily through his nose. Poor Carl wasn't
given a moment's rest and the women spat insults at him the entire time.
"Hopeless wretch." "Feeble insect."

Three hours later the afternoon drew to a close. On shaky legs, Carl
went and opened the door for the visitors, bowing low as each one
departed. His shame had not abated. If anything, it had increased. He
felt utterly broken and feared that he would never recover even a portion
of his lost self-image. Chan sneered at him and announced, "Perhaps now
you will be acceptable to my daughter. If not, there will be many more
gatherings like this one. Understand, useless-piece of offal?" He
nodded, desperate not to incite her wrath. She went on, "She will return
soon. Two weeks. Maybe three." That long? Being feminized and
demeaned the whole time? He didn't know how he would endure it. Carl
would have to do exactly as his Mother-in-Law said or suffer further
indignities and punishments. That was Chan's way.











http://www.*****.org/files/Collections/Old_Joe%27s_Collection/TG/Femdom/Surprise%20Vacation.txt



The Surprise Vacation



by an unknown author and Tristmegistus

1. Chapter - Innocent Beginnings

"Did you take your vitamin, dear?" Ellen called from the bathroom.

I rubbed sleep from my eyes and picked up the pill bottle, rolling a big
tablet into my palm. "My horse pill? I'm doing it now."

"Have you noticed any difference yet?"

"Nah. Vitamins are pretty much all alike." She'd gone on a minor health
kick a month before, insisting that I needed to lose a little weight and
take better care of myself. I hadn't actually made it to the gym to work
out like she was though.

"Where's my underwear honey?" I asked my wife, poking through my almost
empty drawer. It was Saturday morning. I had noticed that my underwear
had been disappearing from my drawer over the last couple of weeks. I
thought nothing of it, figuring that she'd simply been too busy to do
laundry.

"Something went wrong with the washing machine and it ruined everything
in the last load," she said.

"Well, what am I going to wear?"

She emerged from the bathroom, dipped into her side of the dresser.
"Here, put these on," she smiled, handing me a pair of her pink satin
panties. "Now don't give me any fake macho bullshit. I know you love
wearing my panties. In fact, I know you've secretly worn this very pair
before."

I looked at her dumfounded. I thought that I'd successfully hidden my
fetish from her. I'd been so careful.

"C'mon, let's put these on you,"she teased. I was beet red as I numbly
stepped into them and let her pull them up to my hips. She stroked my cock
through the fabric, a lot like I often did. "Mmmm, I see that someone
finds this exiting. We may have to keep it like that." I wasn't sure what
she meant by that remark, but was too embarrassed to ask. I hurriedly put
the rest of my clothes on, jeans and a T-shirt. She gave me a slightly
disapproving look and said, "Well, I need take you shopping and get some
new underwear for you, among other things."

I said, "Can't you just pick up some for me? I want to look at that
washing machine and watch the football game."

Since she absolutely despises football, this would normally have set her
off on a tirade, but surprisingly, she just smiled sweetly and said, "Don't
worry about the washer. I fixed it myself. Go ahead and enjoy your
football honey. I'll get everything you need."

So while she was shopping, I lay on the couch stroking myself through
the panties, embarrassed that my wife knew of my fetish, but relieved that
she seemed so low key about it. The game turned out to be pretty boring
and I thought about raiding her closet for something else to wear, but now
that she knew, I couldn't bring myself to do it. Instead, I ended up
taking a nap. I woke up when she came home, loaded with bags from various
stores. I started to get up to help.

"Just stay there, I'll put everything away. What do you say that we go
out for dinner?"

"That sounds like a good idea."

"Great. But first, I have a surprise for you. Stand up and close your
eyes." I remembered that teasing look, that flirtatious tone. We hadn't
played sex games in a long time. In fact, we hadn't done anything sexual
in a long time. With a smile, I stood and did as she asked. The next
thing I knew, she pulled my hands behind my back and locked them with a
pair of handcuffs!

"What's this all about?"

"No comments from the peanut gallery," she said as she put some sort of
gag in my mouth.

Whatever it was filled up my whole mouth, all the way to the top of my
throat! As I explored it with my tongue, I realized that it was a penis
gag. What was going on?

"Now come along peacefully, or I'll have to take further steps." With
that I followed her into the bathroom. She took my hands and tied a strap
to them and pulled it up to the shower curtain, forcing me to bend over at
the waist. She then took a pair of scissors and proceeded to cut my
clothes off, ruining jeans I could have just stepped out of. It was all
pretty kinky, even for Ellen's sometimes bizarre moods, but except for the
embarrassment of having something shaped like a penis in my mouth, it
seemed harmless.

"You won't be needing those anymore," she said, tossing the rags that
had been my jeans and tee-shirt down the laundry chute.

She then took some shaving cream and a razor and proceeded to shave
every bit of hair below my eyebrows. I definitely didn't like the turn
things were taking, but fighting her while she stroked my most private
parts didn't seem like a good idea - and there wasn't a whole lot I

could do about it, anyway.

"I think that since you like wearing panties so much, you should have
the experience of everything else that goes along with it," she explained
as she worked over my underarms. "You'll find that all of your old clothes
have been replaced with something more suitable for your new station. I
think that about does it. Step in the shower and let's rinse you off."

There was nothing I could do except slide the strap down the bar and
step under the water. I was bewildered. Surely she hadn't really thrown
out all my clothes! As she rinsed all of the hairy soap off of my body, my
skin felt strange, tingly and oddly alive. She spent more time on my
weirdly naked penis, making it swell again. She patted me dry all over
with a big, soft towel and spread skin conditioner all over me, dwelling on
my semi-hard penis.

"Well that looks much better, but we'll have to do something about your
figure. That waistline will never do. You haven't been losing enough
weight, darling. Follow me and we'll take care of it."

As we walked into the bedroom, I saw some clothes laid out on the bed.
There was a corset, panties, stockings, and a short dress. She began to
put the corset on me, and said, "Your arms are in the way." With that, she
reached into one of the bags and pulled out a leather collar. She then put
some leather cuffs on my wrists, unlocked the metal ones, and quickly
hooked my hands behind my head to the collar.

This was starting to get too weird. Our sex games had died out a year
or so before. I'd known she was curious about bondage and stuff, but had
laid down the law and said no. I tried to talk around the thing in my
mouth, but she ignored me. I was able to offer only token

resistance as my arms were asleep and numb from being pulled up and back
for so long. Next, she started hooking up the corset and pulling the laces
in behind me. Soon I couldn't breathe and still she was tightening the
laces.

"Is that uncomfortable? Too bad. It'll give you incentive to lose that
extra weight you've been ignoring, won't it?" With a final savage jerk, she
finished adjusting the laces with a full ****. "I think you'll have an
interesting time trying to untie that by yourself."

I silently agreed. It was more like being in a straight jacket than
lingerie. But there was an illicit thrill to it, despite my deepening
worry that she was going way too far with her fun.

"Now let's put some panties on you. Which pair would you like? You
don't care? That's no way for a lady to show interest in her appearance. I
guess we'll try this new pair of pink satin ones I bought you. Now you
don't have to steal mine, love. Oh, my! You really look cute in them."

Next came a set of latex breast forms which she teasingly placed in the
corset's half cups to fill out my chest. After that she rolled some
stockings up each leg, hooked them to the garters on the corset, and
smoothed them out. She quickly admired her work while I tried not to, too
embarrassed for words, even if the gag hadn't been in my mouth.

"Let's see how this dress I picked out for you fits." With that she
picked up a shimmery peach colored dress and worked it over the tangle of
my head and arms. As it fell over my breasts and hips it came down to only
mid-thigh.

She looked at me with a grin on her face and said, "Don't you look
adorable! You'll have to be very careful and ladylike when you sit or bend
over or the world will see your garters and panties. Only a slut would act
like that. If you act like a slut, I'll have to treat you like one."

What did she mean by 'the world will see you?' I didn't like the
implications in that statement.

"Step into these shoes," she said with the air of command, as she placed
a pair of matching peach shoes with about a 3-1/2 in heel on the floor.

I'd rarely dared to play with her high heels. They were a little too
tight, but the real reason I usually avoided them was because they awoke in
me a shame powerful enough to counterbalance the excitement of cross
dressing. I found it was tremendously difficult to keep my balance with my
hands fastened behind my neck.

"Now it's time for your makeup. I'm going to remove the gag, but I
don't want to hear a single word or I'll put it back in and leave it there
for a whole day." Ellen gave me a look that indicated she clearly meant it.

Well, I figured, we've gone this far, so why fight it. Besides,
cosmetics were another thing I'd never had the guts to try, and I'd often
fantasized about how I'd look. She spent the next thirty minutes
completing my makeup, going through foundation, eyeshadow, eyeliner, and
mascara, adding a light blush, and finishing with a bright, deep rose
lipstick. She topped it off with a light brown shoulder length wig.

"Now you can look at yourself," she said as she led me to a mirror.

I couldn't believe it! A beautiful girl looked back at me. If she was
alone in a bar, every guy in there would hit on her. The dress had a
scooped front almost to my breast forms, which were ample. It also showed
a very flattering figure. No wonder I couldn't breathe. Looking at the
reflection in the mirror, the hemline seemed even shorter, at least six
inches above my knees.

I heard a soft "click." I turned around, and my wife was taking pictures
of me!

"You can't admire yourself all day, sweetie. We've got a busy afternoon
and evening ahead of us."

My heart sank. She was really going to force me to go out dressed like
this! I started to speak, wanting to talk her out of it, but she picked up
the cock-shaped gag and moved ominously toward me. I shut up. With that,
my wife changed into a plain dress and fluffed her hair, not even bothering
to use any makeup on herself, which was unusual. She noted my confusion
and said, "I don't want to steal any of the attention you deserve, honey."

She clipped a leash to my collar and led me to the garage. As she
opened the passenger door, I began to fight her. "Honey what are you
trying to -"

She pushed me off balance, which wasn't hard, and stuffed the gag back
in my mouth, immediately strapped it behind my head. "I warned you! Now
you'll have to pay the price for disobedience!" She pushed me again and I
fell into the passenger seat. She buckled the seat belt.

Bound as I was, with my hands behind my head, there was no way I could
do anything but go along.

As she drove us away, she said, "I know you're dying of curiosity,
sweetie, wondering what this is all about. It's simple really. I noticed
about six months ago that my clothes and lingerie had been rearranged
almost every time you're home and I'm not. I started carefully marking my
hangers and drawers to confirm my suspicions, and I can name every time you
snuck into something sexy and even tell you what you wore. Really, I don't
mind, honey. In fact, it really turns me on. So I'm going to make sure
that you live your fantasy to the fullest. It's really perfect, because MY
fantasy is to dominate my husband completely and I'm going to act that out,
too."

I couldn't believe it! She must have caught on almost the very first
time I gave in to the impulse to see if silky feminine clothes felt as
wonderful as they looked. Well, the first time since I was a k**, anyway.

"I've arranged for you to take a two week surprise vacation starting
Monday. Your boss thinks that we're going on a cruise." She giggled. "In
a way, we are, aren't we? For the next two weeks, you're going to live
entirely as a female and follow my every command. If you give me

any shit at all, I'll send those pictures of you admiring yourself to
your boss and secretary. I think they'd get a good laugh from them, don't
you? To get you ready for our little adventure, we're going to the mall to
do some shopping for your vacation."

I kept hoping it was all a joke. That any moment she'd turn the car
around, laughing at how she'd scared me, and we'd play for a while in bed,
then it'd be over. But my guts were cold. I couldn't talk myself into
believing it'd happen that way. I knew she was dead serious. As we pulled
into the mall parking lot she said, "In case you're having any thoughts
about running away, remember that you don't have any car keys, wallet or
money. If you don't do exactly as I say, I'll leave you here to get back
on your own."

She was right! Trying to get home without her, dressed like this,
wasn't an option. I couldn't even think of hitchhiking. Cold sweat popped
out on my brow as I realized that I was stuck. I had to do what she said.
I didn't even want to think of what her plans were.

2. Chapter - The Mall

I was terrified. There I was, tied into my car seat, dressed as a woman
from high heels to wig, with my wrists handcuffed to a leather collar
around my neck, for all the world to see. And my wife had driven me to the
shopping mall to shop for clothes to complete my wardrobe. I wanted to cry
out in frustration and terror, but there was a penis-shaped gag buried in
my throat. The excitement I'd felt at home was long gone.

After she stopped the car in the parking lot, she turned to me and
unlocked the collar, cuffs, and removed the gag from my mouth. "Now, can I
trust you to behave in here, or will I have to really embarrass you? And
by behave I mean do everything I say without question."

With a numb feeling in my stomach I said, "Yes honey, I'll be good."

"Wonderful! I know we're going to have a marvelous time."

With that, she made me fix the lipstick the gag had smeared, and showed
me how to powder my sweaty forehead. We got out of the car and walked into
the mall. The heels caused my hips to sway noticeably. I did my best to
minimize it.

She looked at me with a grin and said, "My, aren't we calling attention
to ourselves!" and laughed merrily. "Our first stop is at the beauty
parlor. We don't have that much time, so today we'll just touch up your
makeup and do your nails. Your hair can wait until tomorrow. I've already
made an appointment for you."

The voyage through the crowded mall was tremendously humiliating. I
kept waiting for someone to recognize me, or see through the disguise my
wife had applied and sneer at a man in a short dress and makeup. It was
almost a relief to near the beauty shop. While I didn't draw any

of the disgusted looks I was afraid of, I got way too much attention,
and the appreciative smiles were almost worse than mockery would have been.

We walked into the parlor, and she talked to the receptionist. "Hello.
I called earlier for a 'special appointment' for Sheila."

A pretty brunette overheard and approached. "Hi! I'm Cindy and
everything is ready. Follow me please." She led us past the filled
stations into a back room. "Please have a seat here." I looked at the
chair and then my wife with some misgivings.

"SIT DOWN! You heard what the lady said!" my wife commanded and shoved
me into the chair. Before I could recover, she pulled two velcro lined
straps out of her purse and quickly strapped my arms to the armrests,
rendering me completely helpless. "Now sit there quietly, or I'll have to
take further steps."

The stylist was trying, though not very hard, to cover a big smirk on
her face.

"Go ahead and start on her. I don't think she'll give you any trouble.
How long do you think this will take?"

"For everything you asked for, about an hour and a half."

"Good, I'll be back then. I've got some shopping to do. If she gives
you any trouble, feel free to take whatever action you think is
appropriate." She then walked out of the store, leaving me alone with the
stylist.

"You aren't going to make any trouble, are you?" she teased.

I shook my head no, not trusting my voice. Sounding like a man would've
been too embarrassing, and I'd feel like a fool if I tried a false woman's
voice.

"Too bad. I think I'd enjoy disciplining and humiliating you. You're
obviously into it. Maybe I should see if my boyfriend would look as good
as you do dressed up."

That definitely made me decide not to resist - as if I could have
anyway. I did my best to ignore her flattery, too. The last thing I wanted
to do was look too much like a woman.

"Debbie here is going to do your nails, and I'll be giving you a light
makeover. Your lady friend made a separate appointment for your hair for
tomorrow." She turned her attention to my face and began working me over as
Debbie began my nails.

Sixty minutes later, she was still working on my face, and Debbie had
mockingly told me to remove my hose so she could do my toenails. The bands
around my wrists made that impossible, of course, and I cringed as the girl
touched me and did it herself. I kept my eyes closed, unable to face the
changes being made to me. The worst part was having my eyebrows plucked
into shape. How could I hide that when the "vacation" was over?

"This is a 'light' makeover?" I wondered to Cindy in a safe whisper,
trying to joke. "How long does it take for a complete job?" I really
didn't want to know.

At that moment my wife walked in with a shopping bag. "How are we
coming? Oh, she looks just darling!" she said as she grinned at me. She
then bent over and admired my bright red toenails. Confirming that Debbie
was finished, she rolled my hose part way up and began digging

through a huge shopping bag.

"What are you doing, honey?" I asked in a meek, gender neutral voice.

"Oh, I didn't think that those shoes were flattering enough, so I
dropped into the Wild Pair to find you something prettier. I know you're
just dying to wear them, but with that corset on I don't imagine you can
bend over far enough to strap them on."

That was an understatement! While I'd gotten used to taking shallow
breaths in the corset, there was no way I could bend that far down. I
couldn't see what the shoes looked like from the angle I was sitting in the
chair, but I could tell they had a much higher heel than the other set.

"There!" Cindy announced proudly. "That about finishes you. How are
you coming, Debbie?"

"Just a few minutes to let the last coat dry." After about five very
uncomfortable minutes of listening to girl talk, she said, "That about does
it. Let's stand up and have a look at you."

My wife then removed the velcro straps, freeing me from the chair. I
stood up and almost fell. I looked down at my shoes. They were a pair of
cream ankle straps with at least a five inch heel. I could barely stand in
them. It was amazing what a difference an inch and a half made. I then
looked in the mirror, for the first time, and almost didn't recognize
myself. The person standing there was a short, truly beautiful, entirely
feminine woman staring back at me with wide,

shocked, expertly made up eyes! Her skin looked perfectly smooth and
her lips were strikingly highlighted. I reflexively raised my hands to my
face, not believing what I was seeing, and then noticed my nails. One full
inch long and a deep liquid red - exactly the color of my skillfully
painted lips and toes.

My wife smiled approvingly at me and said, "Don't they look lovely,
Sheila?"

"Y ... Yes," I stammered, too shocked to lie. "They're beautiful. I
can't believe it!"

As she paid Cindy and we turned to go, she said, "By the way, I asked
her to use a permanent set on the nails. You won't be able to remove
them."

I looked down at my hands in shock. How could you hide nails like that?
What would I do at the end of the two weeks? I knew enough about it to
realize that even if I cut them off, they'd be unnaturally thick.

"Let's go, Sheila, we've got plenty still to do. Now it's time for some
clothes shopping. With a gorgeous bod and sexy face like you have, we have
to get you some 'hot' outfits to match."

I slowly emerged from my state of shock, and wished I hadn't. I was
drawing even more attention now. The way men were staring at me left no
doubt as to their thoughts. I stayed as close to Ellen as I could as she
slowly toured store fronts.

Our first stop was "The Body Shop." My wife had me try on countless
outfits in the dressing room. It was sheer torture, climbing into and out
of one revealing outfit after another. I was horrified of being recognized
and arrested for this perversion. She ended up picking out a short black
leather skirt with matching bustier, and a white satin minidress with a
deeply scooped neckline. Then she made me pay for the items with my
American Express Card - with my real name on it! The sales clerk gave me a
shocked look and then a big smirk. My face turned beet red from
embarrassment. My slim hand shook as I tried to grip the pen and sign the
sales slip with my too long nails.

We went from store to store for about two more endless hours. I must
have tried on forty outfits and purchased at least a dozen. My ribs were
killing me from the constant pressure of the corset and my feet ached from
walking and standing in those incredible heels.

"Here we go. One last stop," my wife said as we turned into another
boutique. "Why don't you have a seat for a couple of minutes."

She didn't have to tell me twice. I was exhausted. I sat in the chair
she indicated, relieved to get a load off of my feet. I carefully smoothed
my hemline as I sat down (I'd learned this lesson the hard way through some
embarrassing comments and looks from other shoppers). I was so tired, I
didn't know what store I was in, and really didn't care. I let my eyes
close.

One of the clerks came up behind me and said, "Just sit still now."
There was a sudden, intense burning sensation in my right ear. My eyes
leapt open, and I tried to get up. She held my head firmly with one hand
and said, "Just a few seconds. Hold still." The sharp pain was

repeated in the other ear. She then rubbed both with some alcohol and
fiddled with each ear for a few seconds. "There, that does it. You can
get up now."

I stood up and looked in the mirror. She had pierced my ears and placed
a little gold ball in each of them! What would I do at the at the end of
two weeks? Those holes in my ears were going to take a long time to heal
over.

"Okay, that finishes us here. It's time for us to go home and get ready
to go out tonight."

With that, we walked back towards the car - slowly, because I was forced
to take such mincing steps in the tall shoes.

As we got into the car I turned and said, "Honey, this is ridiculous.
Look at my hands! I can't -"

She slapped me hard on the cheek, staggering me. She immediately pulled
out a pair of handcuffs, put them on me, and secured them behind me to the
headrest, making me completely helpless.

"I can see that you need a lesson to show you that I mean business.
When I'm finished with you, you're going to beg me to dress you up, take
you out, and make you look as pretty and sexy as possible! We both know
that you've secretly dreamed about this. Well it's happening and there's
not a damned thing you can do to stop it! The sooner you realize that
you're no longer in control of what happens to you, the happier you'll be!"

"But honey," I whined, "don't you think that this's a little -"

She rammed the gag back in my mouth. "What were you saying dear? I
didn't catch it? Oh well, I guess it wasn't very important."

We pulled away from the mall with me helpless in the passenger seat,
thankful that the tinted windows offered me a little protection from casual
observation.

As I began to look around me I realized that this was not the way home.
Where was she taking me now?

She noticed me squirming and looking around and said, "Don't know where
we're going? Well, as much as you deserve to be humiliated more in public,
that'll have to wait. I just have to pick something up."

My relief quickly turned to chagrin as we stopped and I looked at where
we were. It was a shop entitled "Exotic Leather Goods."

"I need to grab a few things to ensure that you learn your lesson
properly. Don't do anything naughty while I'm gone."

So there I was, tied into the passenger seat for any passers by to see,
trapped in a feminine appearance and clothing with an artificial penis
filling my mouth. Now that we'd stopped, the tinted windows weren't nearly
dark enough.

Suddenly, I saw a man approaching, walking towards the car. He was
casually looking at each of them as he passed by. Would he notice me
through the window? My heart was racing a mile a minute. Just as it
looked as if he would pass right by, he stopped and did a double take. HE
SAW ME! He stood there looking in the window for at least a full minute
with a big grin on his face while I tried to become invisible. Just about
that time my wife came up to the car with a bag in her hand.

"Enjoying the view?" she casually asked the man.

"Sure am, honey," he replied with a leer. "Do you always keep her tied
up like that?" He thought I was a real woman!

"She prefers it that way," my wife laughed. "She's my display model.
Feel free to look all you want, but don't touch."

The man kept up his lewd stare while Ellen loaded her purchases. He
waved gaily, still laughing, as he walked away. With that she got in
started the car. As she drove us home, she said, "I was planning to take
you out for a nice dinner and dancing tonight, but you obviously

don't deserve a reward like that yet. So, instead I'm going to teach
you a lesson in obedience. When I'm through with you, you'll beg me to
dress you up in sexy outfits so you can show off."

brother, was I in trouble. I was afraid to even think of what my
"lesson" would be. I was sure that it would not be pleasant, but I knew
there was no way she could make good on her promise that I'd want her to
expose me publicly.

Finally, we pulled into the garage. My wife leaned over and connected
my wrist cuffs to the collar. After that she disconnected my hands from
the headrest, giving me no chance to get free. She then reached into her
big purse, pulled out a leash, and connected it to the collar. Getting her
bag, my wife got out of the car and came around to my door. I still could
not move because I was strapped in by the seat belt. She unhooked it and
gave a tug on the leash.

"Come along now, Sheila," she ordered as we walked into the house. We
stopped in the kitchen.

"The first thing we need to work on is this tendency of yours to talk
back and question everything I say. After all, I can't keep that gag in
your mouth all the time. Unless, of course, you like the feel of something
shaped like a cock in your throat."

I shook my head violently.

"Well then, you need to show me that you can behave. Believe me, I hate
keeping that beautiful mouth of yours gagged all the time. There are so
many better uses for it."

Having said that she pulled what looked like a leather sleeve with some
laces running down the length out of the bag of things she'd just bought.
She then walked out of the room for a few seconds and returned with several
pieces of rope. She unlocked the wrist cuffs and had me

put my hands behind my back. She then secured them with the hands
facing.

Next, she picked up the sleeve and slid it up my arms, securing it with
some straps in front of my shoulder, guaranteeing that it would not come
off. Then she began tightening the laces, straightening my arms and
pulling my elbows together until they were about four inches apart.

It hurt like hell and forced me to pull my shoulders back and arch my
back to accommodate the position of my arms. My arms and shoulders began
to ache almost immediately.

"My, aren't you the brazen little slut!" she laughed as she looked at
me. I had to admit that the way my back was arched did throw out my chest,
emphasizing my big breasts. Next, she took a long length of rope, tied it
to a ring on the sleeve below my hands and ran it to a hook in the ceiling.
That ring! She'd had me put that in the ceiling last week to hold a heavy
planter. How long had she been planning this? A tug on the rope brought
me back to the present. As she pulled on the rope, it forced me to bend at
the waist while she pulled my arms towards the ceiling. Tying the rope off
onto a doorknob, she commented, "There, that should keep you. Comfy?"

Hardly! I was still in those ridiculous heels and this position forced
all of my weight onto my toes, which were already in agony. Adding to
this, the bent over position made the corset so tight that I was gasping
for breath in tiny pants. I felt like I was going to pass out.

The next thing I knew she was pulling my dress up over my waist,
exposing my pantied bottom. Then she pulled the panties down around my
ankles.

"Are you ready for your first punishment?"

I had no way to say no, of course.

She fumbled around in the bag. When I looked, she had pulled out a
leather paddle. There was no doubt what her intended target was. Bound as
I was, there was also not a single thing that I could do about it.

SMACK! She connected right on my bare ass with a stinging blow. "I
think that fifty good ones is about right for talking back to your
mistress, don't you?"

SMACK! She continued. After about twenty, I lost all control and was
crying like a baby. Each stroke seemed to sting more than the one before
it. Finally, she reached fifty. My entire behind felt like it was on
fire. She then pulled the panties up and pulled my hem down again.

"That was just your first punishment. I told you that you would never
forget this lesson. I'll be back in a little while. I'm going to take a
shower and rest a bit. My arms are tired. Don't go anywhere."

Her arms were tired! At my ass and thigh's expense! I stood there,
miserably bent over, dreading the next punishment, and wondering what it
would be.

3. Chapter - Punishment

I'm sure my wife was gone no more than an hour, but it felt like days. I
was trapped there, standing on my cramping toes in those tall high heels,
bent forward at the waist, exposing my swat-inflamed, pink pantied rear
under the hem of my short peach dress. My eyes burned

from sweat and tear-dissolved makeup that'd run into them while she
spanked me with the heavy leather paddle. I could barely breathe because
of the way I was tied and tight corset cinching my waist into nothingness.
There was nothing for me to do but suffer and ruminate on my situation.

I was trapped by more than my agonizing posture. She'd taken pictures
of me and threatened to give them to my boss and secretary if I gave her
any trouble for the next two weeks of my surprise vacation. She'd made me
watch her drop them off at a fifty-minute photo place at the

mall, and I was positive she had the prints hidden somewhere I'd never
find them. All because I'd secretly tried on her panties and a few other
clothes a couple of times! Okay, to tell the truth, it was more than a
couple of times. Now, she was determined to turn me into Sheila, a sexy
little crossdresser who'd beg to be allowed to go out dancing so she could
be seen and admired!

A dizzy wave of pain made me start crying again. I suddenly stiffened.
What if that wasn't all she wanted to make me do? What if she was trying
to do more than show off my cute ass and pouty red mouth? She'd already
called me 'slut' a couple of times. What if she meant it?

I almost fainted. I had to end this before it went any further. She'd
promised me still more punishment, and I didn't think I could take any
more. Maybe, if I acted the way she wanted, she'd relent. More
importantly, if I cooperated, there was sure to be a chance to catch her
off guard and escape before any real damage was done.

By the time I finally heard the door open, I was in such total agony
that thinking of ways to escape my feminization was the last thing on my
mind. I'd have done anything simply to be allowed to stand up straight. I
was dizzy from the unending struggle to breathe. My legs

were cramped into fiery pillars of pain. I tried to sob out around the
penis gag what was supposed to be her name.

"Well, well," she drawled from behind me, "don't you look sexy! How's
that nice little ass feel now, Sheila? Still hot and pink as your
panties?"

I heard her walking across the vinyl floor until she was right behind
me. Between my quivering legs, I saw that she'd changed into some shoes I'd
never seen before. The black high heels must have been six inches tall and
were tipped with narrow metal spikes. Her ankles were

covered in black mesh hose. I jumped when I felt her hand on my ass,
then tried to stand very still for whatever she was going to do. She
petted me between my cheeks.

"Is it too tender, darling? Oh, dear. It's hard to answer me with that
nasty gag in your mouth, isn't it?"

I nodded frantically.

"Will you be a good girl if I take it out?"

I nodded so hard that time that I almost dislocated my shoulders.

I gasped the instant the thing slid out of my dried lips. I wanted to
scream at her to turn me loose. Instead, I croaked out, "Thank you."

"Why you're quite welcome, dear. Would you like to stand up?"

"Please!" My voice shook wildly.

"One little thing, and I'll loosen the rope." I heard her dig through
the bag of things she'd bought and wondered what my next torture was. She
tugged my panties down and ran a finger lubricated with something cold and
slick over my exposed asshole. Then, she eased the finger

From: nostrumo@nienor.IN-Berlin.DE (Nostrumo)

Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.tg

Subject: Repost TG: The Surprise Vacation by an unknown author and
Tristmegistus (2/6)

2
_The_Surprise_Vacation_______________by_an_unknown_author_and_Tristmegistus
_

inside me. It hurt like hell, but what could I do? If I screamed or
protested, she'd do it anyway and leave me tied in this bent forward
position - or something worse. I gritted my teeth and endured as best as I
could.

She wiggled the finger inside me and ran it in and out a couple of
times. Cold sweat again popped out all over me, but there was a strange
heat, also. When she pulled her hand away, I thought she was finished.
Then I felt something cold and hard being pressed into me,

something much fatter than a finger. It spread me so wide I thought I
was going to have to scream, then narrowed, letting my sphincter muscle
clamp around it.

"Very good, honey. In case you're wondering, that's your very own butt
plug. I'm sure it's painful, but you'll get used to it. I expect you to
wear it at all times unless I tell you otherwise. Is that clear?"

I nodded jerkily.

"Say it!"

"Yes," I choked out. "I understand."

When she unhooked the rope from the doorknob and let me stand, I
staggered and almost collapsed. Even the tiny breathing space the tight
corset gave me felt wonderful. I gasped as deep lungfuls of air as I
could. I barely noticed her loosening the long leather sleeve laced up my
arms, locking my elbows together, but I was sure aware of the added freedom
and the lessening torture.

She had to help me to a chair, holding me by my wrists, still cuffed
behind my back. I hissed when I sat, both from tender ass cheeks and the
suddenly more noticeable discomfort of the thing buried in my ass.

Until then, I hadn't looked at her, and what I saw shocked and
frightened me. She looked nothing at all like my wife! She was wearing a
shiny, form-fitting black latex bodysuit that looked

something like wildly cut one piece swimwear. There was a seam down the
middle decorated with silver studs. The outfit made her nipples stand out
and was buried in the valley between her pussy lips. The stiletto heels
made her much taller than I was, even in the five inch heels I wore. Her
eyes were made up in a way that reminded me of Cleopatra, with immense
lashes and eyeliner and silver eye shadow drawn out almost to her temples.
Her lips were a deep, deep red that made

her teeth look too white. "Oh dear, you look terrible! Have you been
ruining your makeup by crying?"

I nodded, shocked by her appearance. I heard myself whine, "It hurt."

"It was supposed to," she said like she was explaining something obvious
to a c***d. "And that was nothing compared to what I'll do if you start
misbehaving again." She tied my bound wrists to the chair and brought me
some water. I sipped thirstily until I noticed how badly I had to pee.
It'd been a long time since I'd used the toilet. And about then the blood
flowing through my arms began to tingle, then burn, hurting almost as badly
as being tied had.

"It'll pass," she said with a grin.

"Can I use the bathroom? Please?"

"Soon. But first we've got to get you looking pretty again. Do you
know how much the makeover you ruined cost?"

So she led me back to the bedroom. I couldn't help noticing how the
butt plug made me walk even more enticingly than I had merely in the high
heels. Was there no end to my humiliation? I had to endure another
eternal thirty minutes at her vanity before I was allowed to pee - sitting
down, of course, with my wife standing there impatiently. I couldn't help
but sigh my relief as yet more room was made for me to breathe. As I stood
for her to pull my panties up, I was amazed that I felt almost comfortable
in the corset and heels.

"Such a sexy smile," she observed, tucking my penis back between my
legs. Her fingers lingered there. Her incredibly lush, wet lips hovered
inches from mine, and I felt myself begin to harden in her hand. "Do you
feel good, love?"

"A little," I confessed, reminding myself that I had to go along with
her mad game.

"Don't you feel pretty?"

"Kind of."

"Pretty enough to go out to dinner now?"

I blushed. "I'm awfully tired. Can we do that another time?" My penis
was at full erection by then, and she was showing no sign of stopping.

"But you would if I insisted?"

My hips rocked in time with her caress under my short skirt. "I'd have
to. I know what'd happen if I tried to fight you."

"Oh, no you don't," she whispered into my face. "It'd be a hundred
times worse than you can imagine, Sheila. Trust me on that. You don't
want to ever do anything that'd make me angry. Never again. Understand?"

I nodded, feeling her stroking hand more clearly than I heard her soft
words. The way she was rubbing me through the silky material of the
panties was driving me wild. I parted my lips, leaning forward to kiss
her. She quickly pulled away and squeezed my balls with enough force to
make me feel nauseated.

"Ah, ah! None of that, darling. I'll not have you smearing that pretty
lipstick of yours until I tell you to. Is my baby getting all hot? Her
sweet clittie's swollen so big. Would she like me to make her cum?"

"Yes," I whispered. "Please."

"You'd cum in your panties and then sleep in them?"

"Yes. I don't care. Just -"

"You'd lick and suck my pussy until I told you to stop, and then cum in
them for me?"

Oral sex had always disgusted me. "Yes! Anything you want!"

She dropped her hand and took me back to the bedroom, pushing me to my
knees beside the bed. She quickly opened a velcro closure hidden under the
metal studs of the bodysuit and peeled away a strip of fabric that'd
covered her groin. She straddled my head and sat on the edge of

the mattress. I stared in shock between her legs. She'd shaved her
pussy sometime in the week or more since we'd last made love. Her
pinkish-brown labia shone with moisture.

"Kiss those lips, Sheila. French kiss that mouth, you little slut.
Tongue fuck it like you mean it and maybe I'll let you cum."

I was repelled by the thought, but knew it was my only way to get
gratification, and that resistance would mean real trouble. I made myself
lean forward and hesitantly lap at her.

"No!" she yelled, grabbing me by my wig and slamming my face into her,
humping my nose with her hips. "Do it, you fag slut, or we'll go out and
pick somebody up to fuck YOU!"

I did it with every bit of energy I could summon. Little by little, my
disgust faded. I was turning her on! Her thrusts and approving curses
were heartfelt. I'd never heard her even half so aroused when we made love
normally. My penis strained inside the tight panties as I eagerly

wallowed between her legs, licking and sucking wherever she told me to
and going fast or slow according to her commands.

When she orgasmed, I thought she was going to smother me. She screamed
and her legs clamped around me like steel bands, trapping both my mouth and
nose. Her pussy twitched around my tongue and my nose nuzzled her clit.
Just as I started seeing black dots dancing in front of my eyes, she spread
her legs and I came up gasping for air.

I felt right on the edge of cumming myself. I looked down and saw that
the hem of my hose clad legs were spread wide. My dress had slid up high
enough to show the garters and the panties beneath. My cock was still
almost invisible, pointing toward my butt. It looked like I had a girl's
middle, and I was so turned on I was about to die! I'd never wanted to cum
so bad in my whole life, and I couldn't reach out to jack off. I tried to
pull my legs together, hoping that maybe I could rub my thighs together and
get off that way. It didn't work.

I heard my wife laugh. "Would my horny baby like to cum in her panties
now? Would she like to rub her clit with those sexy hands for me?"

I saw that she was laying back on the bed, staring down at me from
between her legs. She was stroking her clit, just like her words were
describing.

"Would you like me to fix your nasty mouth so you can be pretty for me,
and jack off for me like a dirty little slut?"

"Yes! Oh, god, please!"

When she helped me up, she didn't have to tell me to lay down on the
bed. I did it on my own. She spread my legs and snapped handcuffs attached
to the bedframe around my ankles. Then she freed my hands from behind my
back, clicking the left wrist to the bed over my head. The right one she
set free.

"Now do it slow, Sheila. You can't cum until I tell you to."

I was almost oblivious by then. My hand felt clumsy after being
imprisoned for so long, but it flew straight to my middle. She slapped it
away and pinned my arm under her weight.

"Listen to me, cunt! Unless you do it MY way, you don't get to do it at
all! Now just lay there until I say so!"

I panted while she swayed to the vanity to bring what she needed to
repair my face again. I begged her to hurry. Her hand lightly tickled my
painful balls and I cooperated to the max, holding my mouth open like I was
hungry for the lipstick, turning my head this way and that

so she could powder my cheeks and chin to her satisfaction.

"God, you're a sexy whore, Sheila! Now do exactly as I say. First,
lift your skirt out of the way. Now scratch the length of your clit with
those nasty red fingernails!"

The sc**** of my long nails through the silk almost made me shoot off
right then. I dimly heard the click of the shutter as she took more
pictures, but there was nothing I could do about it. I knew I was angling
my hips up provocatively, but I had to in order to reach myself.

"Feel good, honey? I wish you could see how sexy you are," she cooed.
"Now stick your hand inside the panties and rub it, just a little."

The thrill was electrifying! It took every bit of willpower I owned not
to jerk it just the once it'd take to send me over. But my wife's ominous
warning rang in my ears. I may have whined, but I didn't cum.

"Perfect baby! Now push your panties down under your balls. I want to
see it. I want to watch that pretty hand make you shoot cum up in the air.
NO! NOT YET! I want you to just hold it for a second, just squeeze it.
Feel how good it feels."

I was dying. My ears were ringing and my whole body was stiff. I was
panting like a dog. "Please! Please," I howled.

"Tell me your name, slut! Tell me who you are and I'll let you cum!"

"Sheila," I shrieked. "I'm Sheila!"

"And you just love looking sexy, don't you!"

"Yes! Yes!"

"Beg me to take you dancing tomorrow night!"

"Please take me out! Anywhere you want!"

"Do you want to show off? Do you want to wear that nasty black
minidress and tall heels and bright make up? Show everybody what a hot
little slut you are?"

"Yes! I'll do it!"

"Do you WANT to do it?"

"Yes! Yes! I want to be a slut and let everybody see me!"

"Then cum for me, Sheila! Rub your fat clit and cum!"

The explosion ripped through me like lightning. My first blast of sperm
must have shot two feet in the air. There were many more spurts to follow,
and my flying hand was slick with it long before I was finished. I
collapsed onto the mattress, weak as a baby.

She touched my shrinking penis, and I gasped. It was so sensitive I
couldn't stand it. I heard her low chuckle, but she relented and lifted
her hand. She brushed my lips with her fingers, and I

automatically kissed them, tasting something salty and sticky.

My drowsy eyes sprang open. It was my cum! I jerked my head away.

Her voice was a frightening growl. "Do you really want to make me
angry, Sheila? Do you really want to resist me? Are you ready for a hot,
long dick to slide up your asshole?"

My eyes threatened to overflow. "No," I whispered.

"Then lick every drop of cum from my fingers like a good slut."

More humiliated than I'd been while giving the clerks my charge card, or
even having the man leer at me through the car windows, I did what she
demanded. She scooped every last bit of sperm off my dress and slack penis
and made me swallow it. Finally, after I'd licked my own

hand clean, she was satisfied.

After she'd made me change into a red teddy, she chained me to the foot
of the bed and made me sleep on a blanket on the floor. She'd loosened my
girdle a little, but made me sleep in make up and the wig. The butt plug
was still there, too. She fed me a can of diet milkshake and a

tiny salad.

"You need to get used to being this way, Sheila. And this IS the way
you're going to be for the next two weeks. Maybe longer, if you give me
any trouble. I can't wait to get our next photos back. They'll show
anybody who sees them just how much you love living this way."

The renewed threat to give them to my boss cowed me even further. I'd
never been so miserable in my life. She'd reminded me, as she handcuffed
me to the bedframe, of what she'd said earlier.

"I told you, Sheila. I knew you didn't believe me then, but now you
know. I made you beg me to go out and flaunt your slutty body, just like I
said I would."

I cried as quietly as I could in the darkness. Somehow, some way, I HAD
to get out of this!

4. Chapter - Adjustments

I woke up stiff and sore, with the thing in my ass hurting like hell.
That and being on the floor were instant reminders of everything that'd
happened. I tried a deep breath but was stopped by the corset. I had to
sweep the wig's hair out of my mouth. My fingernails startled me so

much that my handcuffs clinked on the bed.

The mattress moved and my wife's sleepy face peered down at me. "Good
morning, Sheila? Did you sleep okay?"

A bitter retort was on my lips when I saw her face turn hard. I
swallowed my protest. "Um, it was okay."

She looked pleased. "That's the spirit, darling! What a good girl
you're being! Just for that, I'll let you go to the bathroom alone."

I tried to hide the hope surging through me by looking down at the floor
and thanking her. My heart was pounding. She dashed it by holding up a
pair cuffs with a short length of chain between them. She clicked them
around my ankles before unlocking me from the bed, and

made me put on the five inch heels. I had to take short mincing steps.
Even if I could get away from her, where could I go in a corset and teddy
with shackles on my legs? Seeing my dismay, she laughed heartily as I
walked delicately from the room.

I hated seeing myself in the mirror. There was still sleep worn
lipstick on my mouth, eyeliner around my eyes, and flakes of mascara all
over my cheeks. The brown wig was a tangled mop. Under the teddy I was as
hairless as my wife, and the corset showing through the lacy lingerie
showed a shape as nice as hers, too. I could barely see a man beneath all
that. The haggard woman in the mirror looked familiar, like my twin sister
might have if I had one.

I felt foolish standing to pee, having to hold the red teddy out of the
way, but I was damned if I'd squat unless I had to. The long red
fingernails embarrassed me as they touched my heavy morning cock. I had to
look away as I did my business.

I tried to think. I could take a razor out with me to use as a weapon -
but they were all the disposable kind and wouldn't work. Not that I could
really hurt her, not even for this. But maybe I could convince her I meant
business. To my dismay, there were no scissors, no nothing. Every
conceivable weapon had been taken away. I almost cried in frustration, and
managed not to only by reminding myself how feminine a reaction that'd be.

I pulled myself together. There'd be another time, other chances, if I
played my cards right. Hating what I had to do, I tugged a brush through
the wig and rinsed my face and mouth. I tried a practice smile, but it was
too scary. I had to stay away from mirrors.

She arched an eyebrow when I traipsed back out with as much enthusiasm
as I could find. "Why you little darling! You cleaned up for me!"

"Would you like me to bring you coffee in bed?" I asked her remembering
to speak softly in as feminine a voice as I could muster.

"What? And leave you in the kitchen with all those sharp things?
Honey, you might hurt yourself."

Obviously, she knew I'd try something and wasn't going to give me the
opening I needed. I choked back a burst of rage. "I'd be very careful."

"I'm sure you would, darling. But not this time. Sit down there and
get started on your face, my little cum lover. I'll make the coffee."

She cuffed my legs to the back legs of the vanity's chair and roped my
chest tightly to the back. I might be able to reach the ****, I thought.

"Now do a good job, honey. I want you to look pretty. Remember, we've
got an appointment to get your hair done this afternoon."

"But I can't!" I protested. "I don't know how!"

"Come darling," she warned as she turned away. "You've watched me
hundreds of time, and Cindy and I showed you exactly how it needs to be
done. Do it and do it right, or else!"

The moment she was out of sight, I tried the ****. It was tight, and I
could get no leverage because of the angle of my wrists. I fumbled with it
anyway, desperately, but to no avail. Again tears threatened me. This
time I couldn't hold them off. Once I started, I couldn't stop.

I'd never felt anything like that in my life. I was terrified and
helpless. She was outsmarting me at every turn. I was horrified - she was
winning! She WAS going to be able to make me do whatever she demanded, no
matter how sick or twisted. I was never going to be able to resist her. I
was still crying when she came back fifteen minutes later. Her deep scowl
made me try harder to dam the flood.

"You haven't even started!" she accused angrily.

"I ... I ..." I stammered hopelessly.

"You worthless little bitch! That does it!" She stormed toward me.
There was no way to flee from her. I covered my face with my arms and
sobbed anew. But she didn't go for my face. Her slap landed squarely
between my legs. I doubled up with a sick groan. She wrenched one arm

behind my back and twisted. A cold cuff went around my wrist.

"Give me the other arm!"

I did.

"Why you thankless bitch! You broke a nail messing with that ****,
trying to get away! Oh, you'll pay for that, too!" She jerked me to my
feet by my arms, causing me to yell in pain. She dragged me into the
bathroom and pushed me into the tub, still wearing what I'd slept in. She
jerked off my high heels, then turned the water on, adjusting it until it
was almost scalding hot. I was too afraid to protest. At least I'd quit
crying. She quickly reattached the handcuffs around a

very solid towel rack. With a sinking heart, I remembered I'd installed
it for her three weeks ago. More evidence that she'd been planning this
for a very long time!

To the burning water, she added fragrant bath salts and oils. She
reached under me and with a cruel jerk, removed the plug that almost felt
like part of my ass.

"You've earned the next larger size, cunt. We've got to get you
loosened up and ready for a big fat real cock, don't we? After all, we
don't want it to hurt you so much you can't enjoy the way it's going slide
in and out of you."

That was more than enough to make me sob all over again. "Please," I
begged her softly, "Not that. Anything but that."

"Anything, Sheila? You mean that anything's better than having a man
lift your sexy legs over his shoulders and spread those cute buns under
your dress and hammer you with his cock?"

"Yes!" I wailed hysterically. "Anything!"

"Oh, baby," she laughed, "I'm going to make you remember what you just
said. When you're crying this hard, begging me to let you have a cock up
your ass, I'll remind you. And you will, you know. Just like you did last
night."

With the steaming tub filled to the rim, she left me to soak and think.
Horrible scenarios ran through my mind, but none were anywhere near as bad
as what she'd said. What could be worse than having another man do that to
me? The whole thing was a nightmare, but that ...

The water was almost cool by the time she returned, and I was having
trouble. It was like the butt plug had already loosened my asshole, and I
was sweating as I tried to keep my bowels from emptying in the bathwater.

"Toilet!" I begged the instant the door opened.

"Oh, my! Do we have a problem, darling?" I barely noticed that she was
in makeup as wild as the night before and wearing an ebony minidress that
looked as wet and skin tight as her bodysuit had.

"I need to shit! Please!"

She giggled merrily. "We can't have that, can we? You'd have to walk
around all day smelling of your own shit!" She put a theatrically
thoughtful red nail before her thick scarlet lips. "Now let me see. What
did I do with those keys?"

I realized as she turned away that she wasn't coming back. I knew the
keys were just outside the door on an end table. And she didn't return
until she heard the forlorn wail I made fifteen minutes later as my
stretched sphincter finally released. I was straining to keep as much

of my body out of the filth as I could and crying like a lost toddler.

She clucked her tongue at me and looked disgusted. "Well, Sheila.
That's your third fuck up already, and you've only been awake an hour.
What am I going to do with you? I'm only going to be able to have you
fucked by a few men before it's more reward than punishment."

"I'm sorry! I'll behave! I swear to God I will. Please, Ellen, give
me one more chance!" I knew she was maneuvering me, but it was all I could
do.

She walked up to the side of the tub, petted my damp wig with her hand.
I looked up, pleading with my eyes. I could see right up her skirt, see
that she wasn't wearing any panties, just garters to hold up her seamed
hose. Her naked pussy pouted down at me. I remembered how it tasted. Her
searing red mouth smiled. "Anything, darling. That's what you said.
Remember? Now take a deep breath and relax."

With that, she unlocked my hands. I knew what was coming. Nausea
welled up in me as she pushed my head under the water I'd soiled. At least
she let me shower and scrub myself clean, even though I didn't feel that
way. It didn't feel like I'd ever be able to get clean. I hated her for
what she'd done - all of it, not just in the bathtub. But it was a strange
hatred, more fear than anger, if that makes sense. It didn't to me. I was
more and more convinced that I wasn't going to

be able to escape her - ever. My self-confidence had been eaten away
over the past day until I doubted everything except her cunning.

Somehow, being naked was even worse than wearing the corset and teddy
had been. My hairlessness seemed all the reminder I needed. I wrapped a
towel around me to hide as much of myself as I could while I shaved my
light beard as smooth as was humanly possible. I knew the towel was a
feminine gesture, but I couldn't stand seeing myself that way.

When I finally minced out of the bathroom in my shackles, holding my
shampooed wig in my hand, she acted like nothing had ever happened. She
was chatty, in a kind of girl to girl way. She'd loaded a tray with fresh
fruit and coffee. My mouth watered as I ate my share and tried to make
light conversation. She was critical of my voice, but not in a vicious
way. As she cleared the scant meal, she told me to do my makeup like a good
girl.

I promptly tried to imitate what had been done to me several times the
day before. I'd been paying no attention, and was finding the task
overwhelming. I swallowed my fear and meekly asked for her help. I
watched her expressionless face as she approached, fearful of her

wrath, but her smile made me try to, also.

"Of course, my love. I'm so happy you asked." She pressed her soft
breasts against the back of my head as she hugged me. "I'd love to help
make you beautiful. But," she warned tenderly, "you must learn to do it
for yourself, or I'll be upset."

"I will," I vowed, relishing the feel of her chest wrapping around me.
"Uh, by the way, I think you're beautiful today." It was the most truthful
thing I'd said all day.

"Um," she purred, sliding her hands down my smooth chest, playing with
my nipples, rubbing her breasts more firmly against me. "Thank you, lover.
I knew you'd like it as much as I do."

She let her hands slide lower still, grasped my growing member in a
gentle hand. "God, you make me so hot," she whispered, staring at me via
the mirror. "You've done your lips even better than I did. Such a sweet
red pout - but you should never start with lipstick, baby. Oohh.

My cunt's dripping, thinking about how good they'd feel kissing it like
you did last night. You gave me the best orgasm I've ever had, Sheila. I
want to sixty-nine with you, lick your clit until we both cum."

"I want that, too," I panted hotly, imagining my cock in that sweltering
red mouth. I spoke what I hoped she wanted to hear. "Let me lick you
again. Let me fuck you with my tongue."

She kept me stone hard and sweaty until she'd coached me through the
whole makeover. Then she forced me into a second corset, this one red, and
let me play with myself and her heavy breasts as she stretched the laces
tighter and tighter. She warned me over and over not to cum

until she gave me permission. I had to put the breast forms in myself.
Satisfied, she pushed me to the carpet and straddled my face.

"Eat me, whore," was her final command before lowering her head toward
my big, raging clit.

It didn't take either one of us long. I couldn't wait for her to tell
me to let go. She started writhing on my face as her orgasm hit her, and
mine erupted wildly moments later. She didn't seem to mind, as she moaned
loudly, despite her mouthful, and sucked mightily. I was still lazily
licking her when she lifted herself off me and turned around. She brought
her smeared red lips down to mine and kissed me hungrily. She forced her
tongue into my mouth, then pushed

the glob of cum she'd saved into the back of my mouth. I tried to pull
away, but there was nowhere to go. She clamped one hand over my lips and
massaged my throat until I swallowed repeatedly, my eyes filled with tears
of humiliation.

"There. Was that so bad, Sheila? Because you're being so cooperative,
I'll overlook the fact that I didn't give you permission to cum. See? I'm
not unreasonable. If you continue to behave, we can both enjoy ourselves.
But the moment you rebel, I'm the only one who'll enjoy myself. Now be a
doll and take your vitamin before you fix your face."

The way she said it made me suspicious. I looked at the big pill when I
rolled it into my palm.

Her laughter made me turn my head after I'd swallowed it. "You're
right, dear. That's a very special vitamin. You've been taking a huge
dose of female hormones for over a month now. Haven't you noticed how
smooth your skin is getting? Soon, you'll be growing your very own

breasts!"

I stared at her in utter horror, more sick to my stomach than bathing in
my shit had made me.

"Why are you doing this to me?" I cried.

She encircled my waist from behind, trapping my arms within hers.
"Because it's what we both want, darling. Don't you see? You need this as
much as I do." Her voice turned stern and cold. "If you ruin your makeup
by crying, I'll make you regret it."

It took superhuman effort to stifle the tears. I wondered, in my panic,
if the daily overdose of hormones was what was making me so emotional. I
tried to pay attention to the cosmetics as I prepared my face to go back to
the mall. I didn't care how I looked - but Ellen did, and pleasing her was
something I HAD to do.

Dressed in a skimpy gold dress and strapped into yet another pair of
five inch heels, with the promised larger butt plug trapped between my ass
cheeks and my wig pinned to my scalp, she led me back to the garage. I was
somewhat shocked that she didn't use the handcuffs. I guess she figured
the leather collar and leg irons and my full blown feminine look was enough
incentive to behave. She was right, too.

5. Chapter- Defining Sheila

It was ten times worse than the day before. Ellen's almost obscene
black dress and lewd makeup attracted the attention of everyone we
encountered as we traipsed through the mall. While all their eyes locked
on her first, they took me in also. She warned me, after we'd gone a
little way, to stand tall and act proud of my beauty, or else. The shop
windows showed me how I looked, with my big breast forms and tiny waist and
full hips revealed by the clinging gold dress. I couldn't ignore how
enticing my widely swaying ass looked. I felt like a beacon, like people
could see me from miles away. She'd deliberately parked as far from the
beauty salon as possible, exposing us to the blatant stares of hundreds of
people as we traversed the full length of the shopping center. I felt
every lusty look like it was actually touching me.

By the time we finally got to the salon, I was horribly confused. While
I was ashamed to death of being publicly exposed like that, I was also a
little breathless with excitement. It wasn't really sexual. My cock
wasn't rock hard, for which I was immensely thankful. It was more like I
was doing something dangerous, something illicit, that charged me with
adrenaline. I was fooling everyone! They were staring at me as hard as
they could, and had no idea!

The way Ellen looked at me when we turned into the beauty shop told me
she knew what I was feeling. Her smile mocked my pleasure, said, "I told
you so," without her having to say a word.

Cindy and my wife again led me to the back room. I was grateful to be
out of sight and tried to relax. After my period of freedom, I was
dismayed when Ellen again used the velcro straps on my wrists.

"You know what to do," she told Cindy. "And while you're at it, she
broke a fingernail this morning that needs to be fixed."

"No problem," the stylist smirked. "I've been thinking. If you'd like,
I could wax her legs and chest and I think I can do better with her face,
too."

"Great idea! Do whatever you think the little bitch needs. I'll be
back in an hour or so." She turned her wet red lips up and smiled at me.
"Be a good girl, Sheila. I think Cindy likes you, so be very nice and
don't give her any trouble."

I nodded meekly, tried to smile back, and used the tips she'd given me
on speaking right. "Have fun shopping."

As soon as she was out of sight, Cindy started acting different. "Okay,
Sheila, we're going to have a lot of fun today. You're not going to
believe how hot you're going to look before I'm through with you."

She removed my wig, which was embarrassing. Anybody who walked in would
recognize me for what I was. I was expecting her to style it or something.
Instead, she threw it carelessly on the counter and picked up a pair of
shears. When she started cutting away all my hair, I froze. She didn't
stop until my hair was an eighth of an inch long all over! Then, to my
horror, she picked up a straight razor and ran it ominously over a strop,
smiling wickedly at me all the while.

I sat rigidly, gripping the armrest as tightly as I could, while she
applied shaving cream to my scalp and shaved me completely bald! I was
whimpering, doing everything possible not to cry at my humiliation.

"Now look in the mirror, Sheila!" It was a command at least as intense
as any Ellen gave me. I obeyed, fearing the consequences, and was
astonished by what I saw.

It wasn't a bald man sitting there, but a lovely, delicately featured
young woman with a scalp as slick as a cue ball! I tried as hard as I
could to see myself under the clothes and cosmetics, and couldn't! The
dangling earrings, arched eyebrows and bowed, trembling red lips weren't
mine! The heaving double swell of my chest looked like it belonged there!
The shapely hose covered legs and towering high heels were someone else's!
I had vanished as thoroughly as if I'd never

existed!

"Now for the good part," Cindy said. She lifted another wig, long,
platinum blonde and obviously very, very expensive, from a box. She showed
me a peculiar smooth liner on the underside instead of the weave like on
the other one. "What happens is that I apply a nice smooth

coat of a special epoxy to your scalp and the wig, then ..."

She let her words trail off. I completed the sentence for her in my
mind. It'd become permanent. Maybe, in a month or so, as my hair grew
out, it'd loosen. Until it did, the silver blonde hair would cascade over
my shoulders and reach part way down my back. It finally

penetrated that my two week vacation "cruise" wasn't going to end that
soon, no matter how well I behaved.

I gave in to my tears while Cindy smeared the smelly paste all over my
scalp and I openly sobbed when she carefully fitted the wig to my head,
jerking it firmly into place. She wore an expression of triumph.

"Jesus," she sneered, "what a pussy you are! It's no wonder your wife
treats you this way. It's exactly what a wimpy little fag like you
deserves! Now I'm going to take these straps off and get you out of that
corset long enough to make sure there's not a single bit of stubble
anywhere on you. Give me any shit, and I'll invite every woman in the shop
to come back and laugh at your naked body!"

Taking all my clothes off was even worse than wearing them. I felt like
I wasn't a man anymore, and she destroyed the illusion that I was a woman,
too. She laughed at the plug closing my ass as she smeared a burning,
stinking chemical all over me, even on my face, cock and

balls, and made me endure the torture of the depilatory far longer than
was necessary. I was afraid it was going to burn my penis and balls right
off. She pushed me into a shower and made me rinse it all off and use a
heavily perfumed soap and then fragrant body powder. I noticed how smooth
and soft I was all over. I guessed the hormones were working, like Ellen
had said.

She laced me back into the red corset even tighter than my wife had, but
had added some padding to the hip area while I showered. When she stepped
back to admire her work, I had even more of an hourglass figure than
before. She made me sit in the chair, with nothing to cover my

dangling, shriveled genitals, while the other girl, Debbie, redid all my
nails, not just the one I'd cracked, and made them even longer and redder.
The way she smirked from time to time at my groin made me wish my sex
organs would crawl up inside me.

Cindy, meanwhile, was styling my new hair and redoing my face, using a
different colored foundation, lots of bright blush, and making my eyes and
lips look as slutty as Ellen's did. I really and truly looked like a cheap
whore with useless male organs where a wet pussy should have

From: nostrumo@nienor.IN-Berlin.DE (Nostrumo)

Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.tg

Subject: Repost TG: The Surprise Vacation by an unknown author and
Tristmegistus (3/6)


The_Surprise_Vacation________________by_an_unknown_author_and_Tristmegistus
_ 3

been.

That's the way my wife found me on her return. Her eyes widened with
surprise, then her lush lips smiled. "Good lord, Cindy! You're a genius!"

"You've got one hot little slut here!" the stylist laughed.
"Thirty-seven, twenty-two, thirty-five unless I'm blind. That gold dress
is going to be stretched even tighter over her mean little ass. Too bad
she's got such a pot belly under that corset. Get her to lose fifteen
pounds and she'd be a real knockout - if she didn't have that ugly thing
between her legs."

"Twenty pounds is more like it," my wife said. She patted my wrist. "I
know she can do it. She may not show it, but she loves what you've done
for her, don't you darling?"

When I meekly nodded, her hand tightened on my arm. Before she could
reprimand me for not answering aloud, I did. "Yes. It's lovely. Thank
you, Cindy."

They both laughed at my spinelessness. Cindy added, a little
hesitantly, "I, uh, came across something else I think she might like. If
you don't mind, Ellen, I'd like to give her a present."

Ellen looked touched. "Cindy! That's so sweet! Of course you may!" I
was instantly filled with fear.

The stylist opened a drawer in her cabinet and brought out a gaily
wrapped package with "To Sheila," written on the tag and handed it to me.
The paper read "Happy Birthday," all over. I blushed furiously.

"Well open it, silly girl!" my wife urged.

I did, fumbling, unable to use my hands as I always had due to the
absurd length of my hooked nails. I discovered I could use them as tools,
sliding them along, slitting the paper like a letter opener. Inside the
box was a bizarre flesh toned elastic device something like both a g-string
and a pouchless jock strap. When I figured out its function, my blush went
even deeper.

"A retainer!" Ellen said appeciatively. "Oh, Sheila, put it on for us!"
She ripped off the velcro bands, freeing my arms.

I bent forward as far as I could, exhaled every bit of air in my lungs,
but the corset wouldn't let me come close to reaching my ankles, even when
I lifted one foot. "Will you help me?"

"Of course, darling! Here!" I delicately lifted each foot as she
slipped it over my ankles, but she stopped when she'd lifted it to a height
I'd shown I could reach. I had to do the rest.

It was humiliating to have to detach my hose from the garters, elevate
my hips, and work the thing into place. Worst of all was reaching inside
it and arranging my penis and balls so that they flattened into absolute
invisibility. Ellen again helped me with my tiny bikini panties. When all
was done, I had a perfectly smooth middle. Even the retainer's tough
elastic string dug so deeply into my flesh that it left no line.

For all visible purposes, I had been turned into a complete woman, even
if they peeked up my dress. No one who saw me would ever doubt my
femininity now. The leather collar covered the lump of my larynx. My
knees weren't even knobby. I felt positive that I would "pass" wherever I
went. But that was only part of it.

My own senses reported no masculinity left in me. My shimmering hair -
the only hair I had other than my carefully shaped eyebrows - had tickled
my cleavage as I bent forward, swung with my every move. Dangling from my
ears were long gold earrings that chimed softly when I moved my head. I
had learned to look out at the world through long black lashes thick with
mascara, day and night. When I looked at my chest, even without breast
forms, I saw how much the corset lifted and shaped my very own flesh into
small pink bosoms - and Ellen assured me that, due to the hormones, they
were growing. Now even my panties were flat and smooth. My every word was
shaped by lips that dripped with deep red color. My fluttering hands were
branded, changed by long scarlet commas. My ass was perpetually violated
by a fake penis I'd gotten used to feeling rub my insides as I walked.
Even without high heels, my hips rolled and swayed.

My emotions weren't even my own. Maybe it was the hormones, maybe it
was something else, but the bottom line was that I cried every time I
became afraid. I felt that EVERY emotion I felt was visible. Ellen had
easily seen through my sly efforts to try to escape from her control. And,
while I hate admitting it, she'd also read, without even trying, how
pleased I was by what Cindy had done to me. I DID like it. I WAS
grateful. And the clearly visible rush of joy that made them

laugh was making me sick.

While they chatted about this and that, I paid no attention. I was
trying to name a new emotion growing in me. I hated myself for what I was
feeling. It made me feel like maybe I was exactly what Cindy had called me
- a pussy, a wimpy little fag. That was the only kind of man

I could think of who'd be so proud of his completely feminized
appearance as I was.

As Ellen turned to me and asked me a question, I was jerked back from my
sad musing. "I'm sorry," I had to confess, despite the danger, "I didn't
hear ..."

Cindy laughed throatily. "Little cunt was so busy admiring herself she
wasn't listening."

My wife's look was stern, and her eyes shone maliciously. "I asked you
if you'd like to thank Cindy for her birthday gift."

"Yes. Of course. Thank you, Cindy. It's -"

"Not that way," Ellen interrupted harshly.

I was befuddled. Cindy took my hand, helped me stand, led me back to
the bathroom. I had no idea what was happening, but I was sure I wasn't
going to like it. She locked the door and leaned against the lavatory.
"You really didn't hear, did you?"

"Uh, no. I'm sorry. I -"

"Ellen was telling me what a great pussy eater you are, how you make her
cum like she's never cum before."

I paled, felt dizzy, sick. Unable to speak, I watched her hands slowly
lift her skirt, inch at a time.

"You know what to do, Sheila. Don't make me use force."

I stared at her exposed panties. They were a pale blue. Their crotch
was moist, dark. One hand released her hem. I felt the weight of it
transerred to my shoulder. I sank to my knees. What else could I do?

She made me do it all. I watched my woman's hands tenderly lower her
panties, revealing her moist cunt, its lips shaven, but with a cloud of
brown curls left above the hooded clitoris. I touched, stroked it, finger
fucked it, careful of my nails, exactly as she told me to. I kissed it and
licked it and inserted my tongue in her cavity to her gasped
specifications. She didn't taste quite like Ellen did. Less fishy, more
fragrant. Better, really. Her hands were rough in my hair though. The
sharp pain in my scalp was almost exactly as if my hair was real, not like
the wig had been.

When she came with a muffled shriek, I hungrily licked her clean. My
penis throbbed in my new restraint, filling it with cum. I hadn't even
touched it. My lust had betrayed me. Even after her hands left my hair, I
stayed there, kissing away the dregs of her passion, increasingly aware of
how I'd left my lipstick all over her, how proud of myself I was for
returning her gift in the only way I could.

"You ARE good, Sheila," she purred, no laughter left in her tone.

"Thank you. You taste so good, Cindy." I kissed her reddened clitoris
one last time. Was it really me admitting that, meaning that? It must be.

She helped me to my feet, more tender than she'd ever been. She
gathered me in for a soft kiss, and I offered no resistance, automatically
parted my lips for her tongue. "Next time, I'll give you another present
and maybe I'll taste you. Would you like that?"

"If you want to. If it's okay with Ellen," I stammered. My eyes were
on my face in the mirror as she hugged me. My cheeks were wet with her
fluids. My lips were smeared. When I licked them, I tasted the candy of
my lipstick and the richness of her cum. I'd made her do that, given her
so much pleasure that she'd shouted it aloud.

"You didn't answer me, slut. Would you LIKE that?"

"Yes, Cindy. Very much. I ... I came, too." I watched the honesty
made my face red.

She pushed me to arms length, her eyes twinkling merrily. "You did?
Show me!"

My regret was instantaneous. I stuttered, looking for a way out. Her
expression turned stony. "Show me, whore! Show me the mess you made in
the present I gave you!"

Batting back tears of shame, I wiggled my panties down, then the heavy
elastic, sticky with spewed sperm. My cock hung, tiny and wrinkled and
ugly, shiny with thick spunk.

Cindy's laughter was like tinking bells. "What does Ellen make you do
when you cum? Does she punish you?"

I could lie, I thought. Maybe she wouldn't tell my wife. But if she
did? And, did I really WANT to lie? "She ... she makes me eat it."

"Well? What are you waiting for?"

I was ready for it that time. I knew the taste and texture. I sc****d
up what I could. She made me unhook my hose and remove the device and lick
it clean. Her eyes glittered the whole time. Her breath was quick again.
I could see her nipples through her dress. This was giving her pleasure,
too. I made a small, shy show of the process, trying to look like I
enjoyed what I was doing. Didn't I, at least a little? Wasn't this a
vital part of what'd been done to me? Didn't it

earn me favor, freedom? Such a small price to pay.

"May I put it back on now, Cindy?" I'd seen how my penis was growing. I
wanted to hide it.

"No. Let's show Ellen what a good bitch you've been."

I hung my head and she led me out, panties dangling from one hand,
retainer from the other. Her voice was thick while she related every
detail to my wife. I hazarded a glance at Ellen from beneath the shield
locks of my tangled hair, and quailed inside.

She wasn't pleased by my actions. She was shocked, maybe even dismayed,
and trying not to show it. I felt my lower lip begin to tremble as my eyes
filled with fearful tears. I'd been so sure I was doing the right thing!

The next time I glanced up, her face was a blank mask, and her eyes were
on me, not Cindy, whose voice was but a dim echo. She read my confusion
like I was an open book. I guess I was. I couldn't look away. She
deliberately reached into her purse and came up with a package of
cigarettes and a lighter. My shock deepened. She abhorred everything
about tobacco, yet she tapped out a cigarette and lit it and inhaled as if
she'd been doing it for years. I was like a rodent

hypnotized by a snake, staring vacantly at how her bright lips stained
the white filter, then pursed as if she was kissing the grey plume she
exhaled.

Cindy's tale ended and my wife's eyes dismissed me. She smiled tightly,
but Cindy missed the tension in it. "Very good, Sheila. You're turning
into the perfect little slut, aren't you?"

She was waiting. I didn't know what to say. "I ... I guess so. I'm
sorry if -"

"There's nothing to be sorry about, darling. Nothing at all. But we
have to hurry. There's so much to do before we go out tonight. Go back in
there and get dressed. Fix your makeup."

Ellen paid Cindy while I quickly wiggled into my undergarments, repaired
my lipstick and powdered my face. The stylist refused a tip. "Sheila's
already given me one," she laughed. "Bring her back next week if you'd
like to begin electrolysis on her face."

I followed numbly. Electrolysis to remove my thin facial hair? I
didn't even worry about it. All my worries were focused on my wife. She
marched quickly along, forcing me to have to hurry to keep up. I felt
awkward, stumbling along as best I could in the five inch heels, and knew I
was making a fool of myself. She was angry what I'd done. Very angry.
I'd be punished horribly for some transgression, and I wasn't even sure
what it was. Because I'd had an orgasm as I ate

Cindy? That must be it.

She didn't slow her pace, and I fell farther and farther behind.
Everyone was looking at us - the striking brunette in the clinging black
lycra dress, and the slutty, clumsy platinum blonde. After a

while, I realized no one could tell I was following her. We didn't look
like we were together.

A surge of panic made me bite my lower lip to stifle a shout. Was she
going to abandon me here? Was she deliberately going to force me to get
home however I could? My pace faltered, throwing me even further behind.
What was I going to do? I had no money, no identification nothing! My
legs refused to carry me another step. I was frozen, in the middle of a
throng of shoppers. A man bumped into me and I nearly leapt out of my
skin.

He stopped. "You okay lady?" His eyes touched me, raked me.

I bolted. I couldn't stand how close he was, what his eyes were doing.
I pursued my wife, not caring how it looked. I felt like my very life
depended on catching her before she reached the car. To my utter horror, I
couldn't see her. Even in five inch heels, everyone was taller than I was.
The crowd had closed around her, as if it was trying to hide her. I
hesitated, turning hopelessly this way and that, at the juncture of two
wings of the mall, having no idea which direction she'd gone. I was too
scared to even remember where the car was. I'd never felt so utterly lost
and alone, even as a c***d. How could she hate me so much that she'd do
this to me?

I was positive my immobility was again drawing more attention to my face
and body. I knew I looked like I was advertising, asking for exactly the
kind of looks I was being given. There was nothing exciting about it now.
My wife had buffered me from it, made me safe. Now, I was totally
vulnerable, exposed even more than I had been when Cindy stripped me nude
in the salon.

Terror became dread certainty. Something horrible was going to happen.

"Scared, cunt?" came a sibilant whisper in my ear.

I whirled to her, my nightmare ended. "Oh, Ellen! Where were you?"

"You're crying. Stop it this instant." She handed me a tissue. She was
still angry, but there was compassion, too.

I hadn't even been aware of my tears, and was ashamed. "I'm sorry." I
blotted my eyes like she'd taught me. "I guess I was making a fool of
myself again. Did I mess up my eyes?"

"Not too badly. Come on. I need a drink."

This time, her pace was moderate, but her low grade anger made me hold
back a step. I was desperate to please her, to make amends for whatever
I'd done wrong. I reminded myself to stand tall, act proud, do everything
she'd told me to do. It didn't fully register that we were going to a bar
until she crossed the flow of traffic and led me into a dim, hushed space
that smelled of smoke and liquor. It was barely three in the afternoon,
and the place was anything but crowded.

My wife occupied one half of an isolated booth. I took the other side.

She silently stared at me until I dropped my eyes. The tension was so
thick I could taste its bitterness on my tongue. Urgency built within me
to end it, but my jaw seemed locked closed. My mind spun madly, looking
for the right thing to do, to say. A waitress appeared. Ellen

ordered a pair of stingers in somber tones. I thought she was digging
through her handbag for makeup so I could make repairs, but she extracted
another cigarette instead. The lighter added light to her face for a
moment.

"What? You disapprove of me smoking?"

"It's just a shock is all. It looks so ... like you've been doing it
for a long time."

She exhaled with what seemed relief. "What if I told you I started oh,
say, six months ago? What if I said that, since you weren't paying any
attention to me, I bought this dress and started going out?"

My mouth hung open foolishly. "You did? Oh, God, Ellen!" Pictures
flickered through my mind. Ellen, painted and needy, sitting in places
like this looking for men.

"I didn't say that's what happened. I said 'what if.' How would that
make you feel?"

"Sick, I guess. And sorry I was so blind. Is there anything I can do
-"

Her laugh was harsh. "You keep assuming that's what happened, you
stupid bitch. If you knew I'd been fucking other men - excuse me, men
period - would you feel betrayed? Jealous?"

"Of course! I love you, Ellen. I'd do anything to -"

The waitress delivered the drinks, reducing us to silence again. It was
even worse than before. It was like she'd fed me a slow poison. I felt it
eating at my guts. Doubt assailed me. Surely I'd have known. I'd have
smelled the smoke clinging to her flesh and clothes. I'd have been able to
tell if another cock had been inside her, if her lips had been passionately
locked to another mouth.

"'Anything,'" she mocked me, easily taking more smoke. "There's that
word again, Sheila. Every time you use it, you make me want to test you,
to push you, to see if you really mean it."

I squirmed.

"Drink up," she ordered, not touching hers, but waiting for me to sip
from my glass. Neither of us were big fans of hard liquor. Instantly, I
felt the small taste. Its warmth expanding outward from my empty stomach.
It'd been two days since I'd had a decent meal, and I knew the drink was
going to hit me like an avalanche. I wanted to ask her for a sandwich of
something. I held my tongue.

"You still don't get it, do you?"

"I ... I think so. You're saying that what I ... what happened with
Cindy made you feel ... uh, betrayed."

She leaned back. Her blood red smile was sharp as a knife. "I warned
you. Remember? 'If you act like a slut, I'll have to treat you like one.'
I think those were my exact words."

"But I was just doing what you ordered me to do!"

"Did I tell you to cum? Did I tell you to like it? Did I tell you to
lick up your cum, or kiss her, or promise to let her suck you off the next
time she gives you a present?"

"No." I stared at my woman's hands wrapped around the drink, the rim
marked by my woman's lips.

She leaned forward. Her breasts touched the table. I could see down
almost to her nipples. "What do you call someone who gives sex in return
for gifts?"

My heart shriveled. "But you told me to thank her that way! I -"

"I didn't say a fucking thing about 'next time,' did I? Answer me!
What kind of woman does what you did?"

She was right. What'd I'd done - almost all of it - wasn't really
because she made me do it. I'd WANTED to. I felt the weight of the words
fill my mouth, overflow my lips. "A whore," I barely whispered.

"I didn't hear you."

I repeated it for her. "A whore. I acted like a whore."

"Is that what you are, Sheila?"

"No! I'm sorry, Ellen. I was wrong. I did a terrible thing. It'll
never happen again. I promise."

"Un huh. And I'm supposed to forgive you. Just like that?"

I swallowed. "I, uh ... I guess I should be punished."

"Are you asking me to punish you?"

I finally managed to meet her steely gaze. "I want you to do whatever
you need to do. I need you, Ellen. I love you more than anything. If you
have to hurt me to forgive me, I'll take it." I was whining, begging. I
meant it with my entire being. "When I thought you'd abandoned me here, I
saw how much I need you. I can't stand the thought of ever being without
you. I think I'd die without you. You've ... I'm different now. I'm
scared all the time. The only time I feel good is when I'm doing what you
want."

I watched her anger evaporate, saw the real love in her eyes. "Do you
really mean that, honey?"

I was thrilled! "Oh, god, yes!"

"And you'll willingly prove it to me?"

I hesitated before I said the next word. I needed to be sure I meant
it, she said. "Anything."

Her smile was a ray of brilliance. Her hand covered mine, squeezed.
"You are a treasure, my love. I adore you. I realized something myself.
What you did with Cindy made me admit to myself how much I need you, too.
Now finish your drink."

I swallowed it with unladylike gulps, then gasped for breath. We both
laughed.

I shook my head at the instantaneous blast of dizziness, felt my hair
tickle my shoulders. "Whoo! That's more than I've had to drink in years."

"Since our wedding," she grinned, then pushed the second glass toward
me.

"You want me to drink this one, too?"

"Un huh. In time. But first let's go freshen up. I love what Cindy's
done to your face, don't you?"

I babbled affirmatives to her questions as we wound our way to the
ladies' room. It was weird going in there, but the thrill of illicitness
was back. I'd always wondered what those forbidden doors hid. I whispered
how much fun it was to fool everyone, to take little risks like this and
almost dare people to challenge me.

"I know exactly what you mean," she laughed gaily, but softly. "I feel
the same way wearing these clothes and using so much makeup. That's why I
smoke, too. It's part of the disguise. Want to try it?"

"I'd choke. That wouldn't be very sexy, would it?"

We kept up our quiet chatter while we touched up our faces, trading
cosmetics, giving one another giggled advice. We were mirror images, I
thought. She dark, me light; she real, me false. For the first time,
being wrapped in feminine clothes, my face coated with color, my body

changed - all of it felt utterly right. Maybe it was the hammer-like
impact of the alcohol, but I wouldn't have changed a thing, and told her
so.

Her eyes filled with tears. "I never expected to hear you say that,
love."

My smile in the mirror was bright. My lips were perfect. "I don't know
- or even care - why you wanted to do this to me. Thank you, Ellen."

6. Chapter - Stepping Out

"You're making me hot again," Ellen told me. She deliberately weighed
her heavy breasts. "See?"

Her nipples were indeed denting the shimmering black lycra dress. "I
noticed," I giggled, the alcohol making me reckless. "Would you like me to
do something about it?"

"You'd do me right here in the bathroom?" she purred.

"I'd do you anywhere you want. You make me hot, too, you know." My lips
were suddenly hungry. I wanted to replace Cindy's aftertaste with Ellen's
more pungent flavor.

"Not yet. Let's get out of here before it gets any worse."

"Worse?" I simpered teasingly, bending over to straighten my hose,
placing my face near her middle. The cascading silvery mane felt
wonderful. I could almost taste the dew certain to be collecting on the
inner surfaces of her labia. With a sudden rush, I remembered that my wife
was wearing no panties beneath that tiny dress, that her sleek, shaved
pussy was naked, mere inches from my saliva filling mouth. I felt my face
flush.

"I want to lick you, Ellen."

"You're drunk, you shameless hussy. I'd better get some food in you.
Come on."

Arm in arm, we re-entered the bar. My pulse was still hammering. I'd
eaten two pussies that day, had two marvelous orgasms, and was feeling
horny all over again. And rash.

The bar was filling. Our return drew eyes. I was already aware of how
beautiful I looked, how sexy in the shape-fitting gold minidress.
Thirty-seven, twenty-two, thirty-five, Cindy had declared with confidence
born of expertise. At five feet two inches, sans the heels, that made me a
knockout. The male eyes touching me didn't feel quite so invasive. The
potent drink had numbed my fear, warmed my libido. It was almost a
disappointment to reach our booth and hide ourselves behind a table.

Ellen leaned forward over it. The underhalf of her fine breasts again
pressed the smooth surface, and her deep cleavage opened to me. Her eyes
were hooded, the way they got when she was aroused. Her nipples were still
erect, must be visible to all our admirers. A stab of envy

pierced me. My latex breast forms, full as they were, felt inadequate.

"Would you like me to order you a snack, darling? Would you like to
stay for a while longer?"

I mechanically sipped the drink she'd pushed to my side of the table. I
was ashamed of my budding, twisted desire. "If you want to." Her face
changed to the look that demanded a real answer. "Yes. I'd like that."

She leaned back, dug for the cigarettes. "Now was that so hard?"

"I guess not." I watched her chest swell as she filled her lungs with
smoke. "Can I, uh, would you mind if I changed my mind about, uh ..."

"Smoking? Of course."

As Ellen's lighter flared in my hand and I hesitantly hollowed my cheeks
around the tobacco, the waitress arrived with another pair of unordered
stingers. "From the gentlemen," she informed us, nodding toward a table of
five businessmen across the room. I didn't like the taste of smoke at all.

My wife turned to smile at the table. "Thank them, Sheila. Give them
your prettiest smile."

My face tightened, my flush deepened. Deliberately smile at five men?
Men, just like me? Well, not quite like me, I admitted. But, wouldn't it
be rude not to - as well as annoying to Ellen? I'd already hurt her,
angered her deeply, and didn't want to risk that again. I knew how
enticing my lush red lips were as I turned up their corners and aimed them
toward the businessmen. As I did, Ellen shocked me. Beneath the table the
toe of one of her towering heels pressed against

my thighs, rubbed slickly over my hose.

My eyes jerked back to her. Her lips were slack. Her breathing was
quick. She'd slid down in her seat. "You're so beautiful," she muttered.
"Spread your legs, baby. Let me in."

My knees were knocking. I tried another puff of smoke. No one could
see, I reasoned. I obeyed her and swallowed a gulp of my drink. Dizzily,
I saw the lipstick coating its rim, marring the white filter of the
cigarette trembling in my hand. My bent-under prick was hard, hurtful,
invisible within the heavy elastic retainer. Her shoe slid smoothly
between my knees, rubbed up and down my inner thigh. With each stroke, it
went higher, its tip dipping under my high hem, nearing the tops of my
hose.

"Stop. Please," I whimpered.

"Am I embarrassing you?"

"Yes."

"Am I exciting you?"

I wet my lips. "Yes."

"Is your little clittie hard? Does it ache?"

My hips wanted to rock. I wanted to slide down so she could reach
higher. "Yes."

She suddenly dropped her foot and sat up. Her succulent mouth shaped an
inviting smile, directed over my shoulder. A deep voice throbbed in my
ear.

"May we join you?"

My entire body tensed. My head jerked toward the sound. Two men from
the distant table, broadly smiling, stood expectantly over us. My ears
were filled with a ringing noise. I barely heard Ellen.

"Of course. Sheila honey, scoot over."

I reflexively did as she commanded, felt the bench seat sag under a
heavy weight, smelled the sharp sting of male cologne over the stench of my
cigarette. A muscular shoulder brushed me as the man arranged himself. I
dared a quick look at my wife. Her heavy-lidded eyes were on me, glittered
mischievously. She'd deliberately set me up. She'd seen this coming.
She'd toyed with me, knowing what was going to happen.

She introduced us. I imagine I smiled mechanically, politely, although
I'll never be positive. The next few minutes are an absolute blank, a deep
hole in my memory. All I recall is a dire sense of panic. I was trapped
in the booth. I couldn't escape. There was nowhere to go. My glass was
suddenly empty. There was what I guess was a fresh cigarette burning
between my curved fingernails. Ellen's tall heel was sensuously rubbing my
ankle. My eyes on the table, I still saw her lean toward her gentleman,
watched her pendulous breast flatten against his bicep for a moment.
Beside me was a man. I darted my eyes up at him and he caught them. His
gaze spoke silent volumes. How desirable I was. How much he wished he
could kiss me, touch me. Fuck me.

Another round of drinks arrived. There was no food. The unaccustomed
alcohol was bringing me out of my shock. Ellen was flirting with both men.
Not outrageously, but encouraging them nonetheless. She was gently teasing
me about being so shy - recently divorced, she explained, and way out of
practice. She'd had to drag me out, she laughed musically. I wondered if
her pun was intentional, decided it was. She'd proven her genius.
Everything she did was intentional. What did she intend to happen next?
Her hand dropped to the man's suit sleeve. Her eyes were locked with his.
My throat tightened. Would she fuck him? Would she make me ...

My voice was shrill. It seemed to explode into the natural flow of
conversation. "Excuse me. I have to use the rest room. Ellen?" It was a
raw, desperate plea.

"Already?" she drawled. Her companion slid out. Mine patted my thigh,
let his hand linger for an instant before he moved. "Hurry back." His
breath puffed against my overheated cheek.

The drinks hit me like a truck the second I stood. The man who'd freed
me from the prison of the booth - Larry, I think his name was - caught me,
or I might have toppled off my heels. It was how he performed the
chivalrous gesture that was notable. He gathered me into his strong arms
like a lover. He didn't hold me tightly or lewdly, but did press against
me from breast to thigh. My thoroughly warmed latex tits must have been
convincingly soft. Through my spinning dizziness, I felt his erection on
my hip.

I fumblingly pushed away from him, but he kept his hands on my
shoulders, steadying me. The earth slowed its nauseating spin. Ellen was
standing beside me, wearing a wry red grin. She took my elbow and guided
my wobble toward the rest room. Her grip on my arm was painfully tight.
The instant the door closed behind us, she pushed me against the wall
length vanity. Her voice was a raw hiss.

"What the fuck's going on, Sheila? First you pout and sulk like a
little k** because I invited two gentlemen to sit with us, then you leap
into the guy's arms like a horny teenager."

"I'm drunk," I slurred. "I fell."

"My ass! It was deliberate as hell!"

"No!" I wailed. "I hate this, Ellen! All I want to do is go home!"

She sucked smoke savagely, spat it back out. "Maybe you'd like it if we
took them with us? You'd like to fuck him, wouldn't you?"

I shook my head so wildly that I staggered. I felt the tears gathering
in my eyes. "Don't say that. You know it's not true. Please don't be mad
at me. You know I can't drink."

"No one's been forcing you, bitch."

"I'm scared. It ... I ..."

She suddenly relented, hugged me, petted my silvery mane. It felt good
to be comforted. I nestled into her arms, lowered my head to her shoulder.
Her voice was soothing. "This's happening too fast for you, isn't it? All
these new sensations, these new feelings. It must be

very confusing."

I nodded meekly, sighed from the pit of my soul. The smell of smoke
mingled with her perfume to form an earthy scent.

"And," she chuckled, "I guess I did forget to order you something to
eat. Tell you what. Let's go back out there and make excuses and get out
of here. Okay?"

"Thank you, Ellen!"

"But I want you to do something for me first."

"Of course!"

"I want you to kiss him goodbye. A nice long kiss, like you mean it."

I lifted my wobbly head. My eyes were big as saucers and I'm sure my
pouty mouth hung open in shock. I started to ask her if she was serious,
but there was ice gleaming in her eyes. I dropped my gaze. I'd screwed up
so many times today that I'd lost count. I owed her whatever repayment she
demanded. I'd promised.

I barely heard my own voice. "You really want me to?"

"I do. Open your mouth. Use your tongue. I'll kiss mine, too - but
I'll be watching you. It'll make my cunt gush down my legs. It'll be fun
to watch them fall all over themselves, honey. They'll beg us to go out
with them. We'll give them a fake phone number, then I'll get you home and
feed you and sober you up. Deal?"

"I guess."

"Look at me," she demanded throatily, wiggling her skirt up, baring her
garters, then her naked cunt. "Look how fucking wet you make me, baby.
You turn me on so much it's killing me. I'm not hot because of those good
looking men. I'm dripping because I love watching you, Sheila.

Feel it, baby. Feel how wet I am."

I numbly reached down and rubbed her labia with a slender finger. She
purred, rocked her hips and took it a little inside. She was so slick, so
ready.

"That's what I want to kiss," I heard myself say. "That's where I want
my tongue."

She took a step back, her eyes deep pools of desire. "Not now. In the
car. On the way home. Just pretend his mouth is my cunt." She stretched
the black dress down over her hips, hiding her beautiful pussy.

She made me look at myself in the mirror. A reality check, she called
it. My own passion was as visible as my wife's. My nipples couldn't get
hard like hers, but my face reflected it just as deeply. Guiltily, I
smelled the finger that had caressed her. Her chuckle at my gesture was
low.

"Let's go do it," she said, "and get out of here before I **** you on
the spot."

Her left tit rubbed my right arm on the voyage back. I watched the
From: nostrumo@nienor.IN-Berlin.DE (Nostrumo)

Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.tg

Subject: Repost TG: The Surprise Vacation by an unknown author and
Tristmegistus (4/6)

4
_The_Surprise_Vacation_______________by_an_unknown_author_and_Tristmegistus
_

table approach, saw both men stand politely. They really were good
looking guys. Their suits were expensive. They were polite to a flaw, and
just a little forward. But then we looked like the kind of women who were
asking for male advances, so that was to be expected.

Ellen paused as we approached. "Sheila's not feeling well," I heard her
drone. We had to go. Disappointed noises from both. Ellen took us a step
closer. My eyes were locked on the one who'd picked me. Well trimmed dark
hair. Gleaming white teeth. Much taller than I was, and

vastly more muscular.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Ellen respond to the other one's faint
invitation and lean toward him. I mimicked her, refusing to think.

He gathered me up like I was a precious treasure. He enfolded me in
arms far more powerful than any I'd been in. His head bent toward mine and
my lips parted, just as they would have for Ellen. My arms went around his
waist.

His mouth was hard. His face was slightly scratchy. His tongue was
quick, agile, demanding. He ground his face against mine and took my mouth
with his own. There was no way I could pretend it was my wife. His
swollen groin was tight against my belly. When I pulled away, he

relented, released me. My lipstick decorated him like an indelible
stain, yet it vanished completely as he transferred it to his white silk
handkerchief. Did he have a wife who'd notice it, I wondered

stupidly, then tore my eyes away.

Ellen was completing the lie. Her desire-bruised lips were slightly
blurred, just as mine must be. I could make no sense of her words, just
waited patiently for her to finish. My man was saying something. I smiled
mechanically, my thundering pulse drowning out all sound. When Ellen
turned, so did I. We made our escape.

All I remember about the long trip back to the car is the way my body
moved. The plug buried in my ass caressed me with every short stride. My
hips felt loose, and I knew they swayed sexily. I didn't care. I felt my
breast forms bounce every time my high heels jarred against the

terrazzo floor. I felt the breeze of my movement lick my sleek thighs,
my long hair tickle my shoulders, the faint weight of the heavy earrings.
The corset's tightness was reassuring. My stone hard little cock, aimed
toward my warm ass cheeks, rubbed slightly between my thighs. I was as
drunk on sensation as I was on liquor.

I remember more about the drive home. I vividly recall burying my face
between Ellen's wantonly spread thighs as she sat behind the wheel. I knew
the windows were tinted and that my act would be unseen, but I'd have done
it anyway. I sucked and nibbled her through two restrained orgasms and was
working toward a third by the time we achieved the garage. She d**g me
away from her gaping cunt long enough to slide the seat back, then fucked
my face with crazed abandon, beating my chin with her hips. I don't think
she was even aware she was speaking.

"Oh, fuck me with that slutty tongue, baby. Stick it deep in me, just
like you did Cindy's nasty little hole. I almost died when you came out
with your clit and balls dangling down and your cum still in your hot
little whore's mouth. I saw how you kissed that guy, cunt. You loved it.
You let him tongue fuck your mouth, didn't you, you nasty little slut? You
felt how hard you made his big cock, didn't you? Every time you smoked, it
was like you were sucking a dick. The way you strutted through the mall
turned you on, didn't it? It made you feel like a tramp, didn't it? You
loved every minute of the whole fucking day, didn't you, baby?"

There was more. It was like each accusation, each question drove me
deeper into her slick slit. It was all true, every word of it. And I
wasn't ashamed. I felt no guilt. She was proud of me. This was what she
wanted. Atop my lust was an overlay of gratitude. I trusted her. She
knew what I wanted, what I needed. When she finally exploded, she did so
with v******e. She twisted my head, crushed my skull, jerked madly on my
hair. I felt my own orgasm trying to fill my panties, and somehow managed
to deny it. She hadn't given me permission.

The instant she threw me away from her, I rawly begged her to let me
finish myself. I was writhing with need, had to made fists of my hands to
keep them from my silky center.

Ellen sprawled obscenely against the driver's door, her dress around her
waist, her heavy tits exposed. Her nipples were immense. Her cunt lips
still pulsed. Her makeup was intact, although she'd gotten lipstick on her
teeth from biting her lower lip. She stared at me, had trouble lighting a
cigarette.

"Put your feet on the dashboard," she growled. "Open your legs as far
as you can."

I scrambled to do what she wanted.

"Reach down and show me your clit."

I jerked the panties away, loosed my purpled member from the restrainer,
displayed it, gasping, trying not to blow at the wonderful thrills created
by my touches.

"Bend forward as far as you can, slut. Try to suck it. Jack yourself
off. Shoot straight into your mouth."

I couldn't force the corset to bend much more and I whined in
frustration. She helped me, grabbing my ankles, forcing my knees higher.
It felt like I was being cut in half.

"Open those slimy lips, whore, and do it."

Two seconds later, I erupted. A gout of sperm splatted against my
forehead. A second struck my lower lip. The third landed on my heaving
chest. The rest simply drooled over my pumping fist. The instant she
released me, I started scooping up the fragrant, warm cum, eating it like
it was my favorite candy, wishing there was more.

"Good, baby," she cooed, "but not good enough. Let's get you inside.
I've got something I need to show you."

7. Chapter - Home Sweet Home

Later - much later, emotionally, if not by the clock - Ellen helped me
to bed. I needed every bit of assistance I could get. I'd been tied in a
position similar to, though more relaxed than the torturous bent forward
stance she'd employed the night before, and she'd taught me two very
important lessons. I was more accustomed to the squeeze of the corset and
the angle of the high heels, so that part of it wasn't nearly as agonizing.
The rest of the punishment, though, was much

more vicious than merely being spanked.

Ellen's first exercise was designed to illustrate how to suck cock. She
employed a strap-on dildo, one end of which was buried in the denuded cunt
still bearing my lipstick, and demanded that I perform fellatio on her
until my jaws ached and the back of my mouth was raw.

Begging her not to abuse my throat had proven worse than useless. As
she tapped her false cock against my sealed red lips, she reminded me of my
vow to do anything to earn her forgiveness. Would I prefer it if she went
to some bar and picked up a stranger equipped with the real thing and
brought him home for me? She'd be happy to drop to her knees in front of
me and lick its length, kiss its swollen head, and demonstrate first hand
how it should be done, if I wanted that. My answer was to part my lips and
ask her to tell me what to do.

The second lesson was how to take the same device, thickly greased, up
my stretched asshole. Relax, she'd urged as she pushed into me, and enjoy
it. The physical pain was much less than I expected. The butt plug must
have opened me up quite well, and the alcohol had deadened me. The
emotional trauma was much more severe.

My wife fucked my virgin ass - my cunt, she called it, her throat
clogged with lust - until the pressure of the dildo against her clit made
her cum. By then I was so delirious that I could almost feel the rubber
dong pulse and ripple in my gut as if it was expelling a huge load of sperm
deep into me.

Both were punishment for my slutty behavior at the beauty salon,
fulfillment of her earlier vow to treat me like a whore if I acted like
one. After her orgasm had eased, she gently withdrew her cock from me and
wiped it clean. As she used the warm, damp cloth to remove the messy
lubricant from my fiery red lower cheeks, she reached beneath me and
fondled my engorged cock, murmuring that I'd earned a reward. My hips
resumed the thrust they'd learned while she'd fucked me, and I watched
enthralled from between my spread, chained, hose clad legs, as her hand
glided over my long flesh, massaging it against the latex prick, heated by
my bowels and still strapped to her. I shrieked as I came, shooting my
jism all over her hand and the dildo.

When she moved back to my head, she didn't need to order me to lick the
shaft and her hand clean. That I was hungrily licking real cum from a cock
shaped toy was an irony that wasn't wasted on me.

Again I slept on the floor, chained to the bed frame, dressed in the
loosened corset and a different teddy. Ellen had coaxed my stunned brain
through the laborious process of removing all my makeup, explaining that it
wasn't good for my complexion to sleep in it, and showing me exactly how I
needed to care for my skin. I voided my violated bowels and easily
returned the ass plug to its home. In my exhaustion, even my
color-stripped face looked wholly female. I still

felt drunk, or d**gged. I wondered why I hadn't seen how feminine my
were features before, how I had truly been a woman awaiting her rebirth all
my life.

I silently cried myself to sleep, not because I was pain wracked from
her violation of me, not due to the cruelty of having every possible trace
of my masculinity erased - but because I'd loved almost everything that'd
happened to me, the whole day long. My thoughts weren't about how I could
restore myself back into maleness after my two week surprise vacation
ended, but rather to pray that I could somehow extend it forever.

It'd taken Ellen just over thirty-six hours to reveal, to myself and the
world at large, a side of myself I'd barely dared to even fantasize about.
While I'd sneakily worn her panties and dresses, this was what I'd wanted.
It'd been too horrifying, too perverse to admit, even in the darkest
recesses of my mind.

Even as I was wracked by silent sobs, I was wondering what my wife had
in mind for the next day. I knew that, no matter what I said, no matter
how strenuously I objected, I'd welcome whatever she made me do, no matter
how degrading.

My eagerness had passed by morning. The pain that hadn't been there the
night before throbbed in my ass, burned in the back of my mouth. My
calves, feet, and the small of my back were incredibly sore from wearing
the tall heels all day. My scalp itched like mad under the

permanently affixed wig. I had a hangover that felt like some insane
blacksmith was at work at an anvil between my ears. My stomach growled
with both hunger and nausea.

When Ellen released me, she didn't bother with shackles. I staggered
into the bathroom barefoot to take care of essential business. Unlike the
morning before, I couldn't bring myself to stand to urinate. I told myself
that was because I was so sick, and knew it was a lie. I sat on the toilet
ring because it would've been too shameful to act like I was still a man.
My penis and testicles were the only part of me that looked male, and I
couldn't bear the thought of peeing the old way. It would've been
shamefully hypocritical, a senseless denial of what had already become my
reality.

A long hot soak in a fragrant tub eased my physical woes, and a real, if
low-fat, breakfast lessened my psychic ones. Ellen weighed me. I was
astonished to see that I'd already lost five pounds. Her warning that the
next fifteen would be harder wasn't lost on me. I swallowed

my big "vitamin" with mixed feelings. I'd become aware how the large
dose of hormones had already affected my body. Part of me wished I could
swallow the entire bottle and accelerate the changes taking place. The
other part was ashamed to tears of that perverse desire.

She had me dress in the black corset, but left it moderately loose, and
had me cover it with the first casual clothes I'd worn in what seemed
forever. The new designer jeans were satisfyingly tight, and the three
inch heels were as easy to move in as tennis shoes had been in my old life.
I thought the green cotton blouse was flattering with the gold choker in
place of the leather collar I'd been wearing for the last two days. The
only makeup she allowed me was lipstick and mascara, which I had to do
myself.

I was still a pretty young woman, but one more suited to keeping house
than teasing cock at the mall. With rubber gloves protecting my too-long
nails, I set about cleaning the house with more gusto than I'd ever felt
before.

It was a purely domestic day, as were most of the two which followed.
There were no outrageous outside adventures. No shopping. No drinks at
bars. No scenes with other women - or men.

Ellen developed a routine for me. There were exercises designed to
limber me as well as work off pounds, without building ugly muscles. There
were daily lessons in feminine behavior and voice sessions every afternoon.
I gave myself two enemas every day. While grocery shopping

- our only trip out of the house during those three quiet days - my wife
bought me a videotape on cosmetics and demanded I memorize it, as well as
read every magazine article I could find on the same topic.

My feminine lifestyle quickly became second nature. I got so used to my
long silvery hair that I couldn't imagine having ever been without it. I
found I could do everything with my long painted nails that I'd done
before. The aches in my leg and back muscles eased and being

without high heels didn't feel normal. During rare moments without
breast forms and a butt plug, I felt like I'd been stripped of vital parts
of myself.

That was one of the most effective ways Ellen punished me. After
breaking one of our wedding wine glasses while unloading the dishwasher,
she angrily took off all my clothes and made me continue my chores nude
except for five inch heels and heavy rubber gloves. I hated the way my
cock and balls dangled, slapped against my smooth, hairless thighs with
every step. I felt fat and ugly with no corset to give me the lovely shape
I identified with. After an hour, I was in

tears, begging her to let me stretch my retainer over my male organs and
lace me back into a corset.

She was lounging in a hot bath while I cleaned the toilet and tile
floor. "You've broken something irreplaceable, Sheila. We toasted one
another with that glass at our wedding reception. After having destroyed a
symbol of our marriage, you ask me to lighten your punishment?"

"Just change it," I said in my more refined female voice. "Please,
Ellen. This is too ... too -"

"Humiliating? Disgraceful?" she mocked.

I nodded, unable to meet her eyes.

"If I let you start making amends, will you do everything I say for the
rest of the day without hesitation? No matter what it is?"

"Yes! I promise!"

She lay in the steaming water with her eyes closed for a moment. A
smile grew on her face. "Run to the vanity and bring back your favorite
lipstick, doll."

I took her order literally. Running in the tall heels was more scamper
than trot, but I'd become used to their limitations.

"Lay on your back on the floor."

The tile was cold.

"Raise your knees and spread your legs so you can see your clit. Good
girl. Take off your gloves. Now paint it with the lipstick. All of it. I
want it to be fuscia from top to bottom."

I stretched it, stroked the tube of vivid color up and down. It
hardened as I did, exposing yet more surface area to be coated. She
climbed from the tub, stood at my feet as I finished.

"Do your mouth, baby. Smear it on heavy."

The chills racing through me weren't caused by the cool floor. I ran
the lipstick over my mouth again and again until she nodded approval.

"Now jack off, bitch." She grabbed my ankles and bent me double, pushing
my knees as wide as they'd go. My shaft felt greasy in my palm, which was
instantly coated with bright color. She strained my back and neck muscles
until they screamed with pain, leaning all her weight on my comma shaped
body, forcing my cock closer and closer to my face.

"Pull your plug, cunt. Fuck your ass with the lipstick. No! Leave the
cap off the tube!"

The plug came out with the usual wet sensation. It was larger than the
lipstick, which slid easily inside my loosened hole. I held it so I could
see the dark plastic holder go in and out. My hand was a blur on my dick.
Slowly, my strained muscles let it come still closer to my slick red lips.

"Lick it, whore."

I strained my tongue as far as possible, but it wasn't far enough. I
was an inch away from the smeared, swollen purplish- red tip.

"Cum, lover. Shoot every drop right in your slutty little mouth."

As if her command was enough to make me explode, I did precisely what
she demanded. The closeup sight of my expanding, pulsing prick, the vision
of the first gout of sperm being expelled, the shocking sensation of my cum
spattering inside my gaping mouth - these factors seemed to quadruple the
intensity of my orgasm, send me into a realm beyond anything I'd ever
imagined. At that instant, my tongue somehow managed to make contact with
my leaping cock.

Something happened deep within my soul. Something irreversible. It was
like an electrical circuit had been closed, a psychic switch flipped. An
all new energy burned through me. It was entirely my imagination, but I
felt the whole length of my dick slide between my lips, into my mouth, down
my throat. All this in the split second before the second burst of cum hit
my hard palate, instantly followed by the third and fourth. By then, my
entire body was involved in the

mind-boggling climax. My ass was spasming around the lipstick tube,
squeezing it like a pussy does a cock. My hips were desperately trying to
fuck my mouth.

As the surges began to fade, my universe expanded beyond my body. I
heard my harsh gasps for air, Ellen's thick voiced encouragements. The
heel of one of my red shoes was buried in her cunt. But, above all, the
wonderful ripeness of my cum coated my mouth and tongue and soul.

I'd been made whole. A single touch of tongue to cock had made all the
difference in the world.

I caught the last oozes and dribbles in my cupped palm, milked my staff
with my lipstick covered fist, and licked it clean with a voracious hunger.
I'd stepped over a precipice and was still falling. My taste had been
whetted, not appeased. I wanted more - craved a steady flow of sperm down
my throat, not the teasing appetizer I'd given myself. I knew I'd gone mad
and I welcomed it.

Ellen disrupted my delirious reverie by lifting herself off my spike
heel and dropping my rubbery legs. She fell atop me, her hips thrusting
incoherently against my shrinking dick, her lips devouring mine, her tongue
frantic to share the flavor of my sperm. I felt the lipstick tube slip
from my ass. I opened my jaws to my wife, letting her lap from my cavity
like a dog does from a bowl. She too was cumming, using my spent rod to
rub her clit.

When she abruptly jerked away from me, her face bore an expression that
was as crazed as mine must have been. Her voice was low and raw. "Wash
the slime off your face and hands, whore. Leave everything else exactly as
it is and have your nasty ass in the bedroom in three

minutes."

She bolted from the bathroom like a berserker before I could move.
Every muscle in my body was relaxed. Pushing myself to my knees took a
massive effort. But I could almost hear a clock ticking off the seconds in
my head. I was infected by her wild energy. I scrubbed at my face and
hands, whining with frustration at the stubbornness of the lipstick's
stains.

I had no idea if I met her deadline. Neither did Ellen. She was
throwing clothes at the bed as I hurried on wobbly legs into the bedroom.

"Get dressed, you sleazy cunt."

I tried to be careful not to smear my lipsticked cock and ass on my
hands as I arranged my organs in the tight grip of the retainer. I
squirmed into the red corset while she lit a cigarette and stared at me
through narrowed, smoldering eyes. I rolled up equally red hose, stepped
into scarlet bikini panties. I looked around for an ass plug. There was
none. I looked at her helplessly, seeking guidance.

She grabbed the laces of the corset and began hooking me into it. Never
had she used such strength, restrained me so impossibly tight. Even
without the gel filled breast forms, my tit flesh bulged into the cups. My
nipples were nearly as swollen as my wife's. And I wished it was tighter
still. I ached for my tits to fill the cups to overflowing.

She tied me off and roughly pushed me toward the vanity. "Paint
yourself, slut. We're going out. We're going to get you laid for real.
Make yourself look like the whore you are, Sheila. If you don't use enough
makeup, I'll make you watch while some real man drills my cunt, then make
you lick his cum out of me."

I was utterly infected. I wanted that. I wanted to lay helplessly
beside her while a long fat prick drilled her wet pussy. I wanted to hear
her cries, watch her humping, spasming body. My mouth watered at the
thought of tasting her cum mixed with someone's sperm. It would've

been more like reward than punishment.

I created a face just as slutty as she wanted because I wanted it as
much as she did - maybe even more. I felt hollow, empty. I was going to
be fucked. By a man.

"Good," she growled, rubbing her cunt against the back of my head. She
ran a dildo over my cheek. "Use this on yourself while I do my makeup.
Don't even think about cumming again."

I flopped on the bed, curled my sexy legs to my chest and stroked the
long thin rubber cock in and out of my lipstick slickened ass while I
watched her. It was good. Very good.

I won't lie. I won't claim that everything that happened that night was
because of Ellen's dominance. That had nothing to do with it. I did it
all on my own. My mind remained filled with a haze as thick as my cum. It
allowed only surreal images of twisted lust to take shape. I was
possessed.

I spoke the name of the notorious bi-sexual bar through lips too heavy
with lipstick and gloss. I drove us there while she used the dildo on her
gushing pussy. I licked it clean after each of her two orgasms. I asked
her for a cigarette after we parked, after I'd freshened my wet red lips,
just before I led our pranced entrance. I sucked smoke as I scanned the
crowd, found us a table. I crossed my legs so anyone who cared to got a
good look at my long thighs.

I was completely devoid of shame. I selected and rejected my dance
partners, seeking just the right man. I found him after about a half hour.
I forgot about Ellen, who was on the dance floor dry fucking some guy. I
was at the table, working on my second drink and my third cigarette. I
wanted him the moment he sat in my wife's empty chair. My half hard clit
lurched toward the crack of my ass. My lips ached to be crushed under his,
and I unabashedly let him know it.

He wanted to dance first. I felt his cock swell against my belly as I
pressed into him. It was for me. His cum was for me. I wrapped my arms
around his neck and strained against him. I stood on tiptoe and claimed
his mouth, drove my tongue between his parted lips exactly like I wanted
his prick to take me. He finally got the idea. I was no nice girl playing
the dating game. I was a wanton slut who only wanted his meat.

Ellen had guided her partner near us and caught my eye. Her hand was
openly rubbing her man's cock. Her mouth was smeared. Her nipples were
twin bullets trying to tear through her black cocktail dress. Her
gyrations on the dance floor had raised her skirt high enough to expose

the tops of her hose. Her eyes were glowing embers, drilling into me.

I was looking at her while I licked my date's ear and whispered into it.
"I want to suck your cock. I need your cum."

I led him to our car, pushed him into the back seat. My quaking hand
was on his zipper before he was settled against the far door. When I felt
the heat of his long, stiff, smooth cock in my hands, I froze. A wild
thrill ripped up my spine, exploded against the top of my skull, s**ttering
hot sparks everywhere. Time slowed. I watched my lovely hands drag it out
into view. My little fists encircled it, traveled its length, measured its
girth. My mouth filled with saliva. This was

it. The time had come. My head was pulled toward his lap by an
irresistible force.

I already knew what it'd feel like, taste like, look like. There were
no surprises. Far, far back, in the dark corners of my mind, I'd imagined
this all my life. Since puberty, I'd craved this. My passion-heavy red
lips met the tip of his prick, kissed it tenderly, like a long lost lover.

I knew what to do. I knew how to make him as crazy with need as I was.
No born-woman could know what I did about how to please a man.

I made love to a disembodied cock, not the nameless man it was attached
to. I licked and sucked and kissed. I ran him into and out of my mouth,
fondling his heavy, hairy balls, flirting with his ass, occasionally
gasping and shuddering and having to just jack him off as I was consumed
with wild ecstasy.

He came too soon. I almost missed it. I had to lunge down on him as
his groans suddenly changed tone, as I felt his dick harden yet more and
begin its preliminary twitching. My head bobbed up and down, taking as
much splendor into my mouth as I could manage.

When the first gush came, I was ready. I tightened my lips on him and
began my own orgasm as his seed hit the top of my throat with marvelous
force. I wanted to remember each pulse, each gout, each choked swallow -
but I lost track. Specifics faded beneath the groundswell of my

fulfillment. All I recall is drinking him dry, trying to suck him hard
again, and being pushed away.

He was too sensitive, he said. I was hurting him. I didn't care. I
wanted that fine prick in my readied ass. It was literally pulsing with
need. And he wasn't interested. I watched in angry disbelief as he put
his cock away. He said he wasn't into being watched and slipped out the
door behind him.

That was the first indication I had of my wife's presence. I swept my
hair out of my eyes and looked over my shoulder. She was leaning against
the car next to ours fingering her cunt, pinching her carelessly bared
tits. I leaned into the front seat, grabbed the dildo she'd left laying
there. I held it out to her, positioned myself on all fours on the seat.

Ellen lurched forward and took over. The second she drove it between my
ass cheeks, I came again. She blocked my raw scream with her hand and
fucked me with just the savagery I needed. She kept it up even after my
arms collapsed, dropping my face onto the upholstery. She

continued, using both hands, while the seat muffled my choked sobs and
wails. I'm nearly positive I had yet a third orgasm before her arms tired,
but by then I was reduced to delirium. My hips had a life of their own,
kept rolling and thrusting long after the dildo squirted from my hungry
hole and clunked to the floorboard.

8. Chapter - Aftermath

I recall nothing more until Ellen slapped me awake. She was standing
impatiently outside the opened car door.

"Wake up, slut. Time for bed."

I was still in the back seat, but the car was now in our garage. I was
on my back, my knees lifted, with the long dildo hugged tight to my chest.
I awoke with full knowledge of where we'd been, what I'd done. I sucked a
harsh breath and groaned when I tried to move. My ass felt

like the dildo was still inside, heated white hot. The man's cum was
sour in my mouth. An emotion was building in me that I couldn't name.

I saw the next slap coming, but was too sluggish to avoid it.

"I said move, goddamn it!"

I moved. I dragged myself upright. Clambering out of the car and
finding my balance took enormous energy. My compressed, underclad body
weighed tons. I wasn't fast enough for her.

My wife grabbed my long tangled mane and jerked hard. I staggered after
her, off balance, bent forward, flailing my arms to keep from falling.

"You're hurting me," I whined piteously. The back of my mouth was sore
and my jaws ached.

Her only response was to bark a nasty laugh and walk more quickly. The
kitchen again. This time I knew exactly why I was being punished, and
offered no resistance as she put my ankles in a spreader bar I'd never seen
before, cuffed my hands behind me and lifted them toward the

ceiling, bending me into a right angle. She left me there. I was
afraid that I'd collapse and dislocate my shoulders. I hadn't even managed
to adjust to the position before she returned, carrying a full length
mirror. She lowered it to the floor and slid it under me, between my
widely spread legs.

She lit a cigarette. She'd repaired her beautifully sexy face somewhere
along the line. She didn't seem as angry. "Look at yourself, Sheila. I
never want you to forget this."

I was stunned, as if she'd slapped me again. First, of course, I saw my
face. My tangled platinum blonde hair hung down, framing my totally ruined
heavy makeup. My eyes were surrounded by wide black circles of blurred
eyeliner and mascara. The remaining deep emerald and rust eyeshadow looked
bland. My lips looked bruised, were ringed with a wide smear that was all
that remained of my thick lipstick. My false tits looked huge with my
shoulders pinned back. The hem of my wrinkled red minidress had risen, but
I'd have been able to see all the way up anyway from this angle. Where had
the little red panties gone? My retainer dug into the soft flesh of my
groin, hugging my male organs into invisibility. The pale, slim thighs
below were caked with dried cum. My vision swam for a moment. I thought
it was his, that there was a beautiful cunt hidden in there, that it'd
leaked the some of the sperm he'd shot so deeply into my soul.

The stark light of the camera's flash attachment as Ellen photographed
me from every angle jerked me back toward reality.

"Pose for me, baby. Push that great butt out. Can you see how red it
is around your asshole? You were fucked good, whore. Too bad it wasn't
the real thing in there. It'd have felt as good as it did in your throat.
But you know that, right? You wanted it, but the fucker let you down,
didn't he?"

I nodded, remembered to add a verbal "Yes," as well.

"But you know there'll be other times. Any bitch as hot as you are can
get fucked anytime you want. And a nympho cunt like you will want it a
lot. You'll have so many dicks shoved in that tight ass and between those
cocksucking lips that you'll lose count of them."

She fed me the cigarette. I watched my lips suck it, my chest expand as
much as it could given my restraints, then my mouth purse as I exhaled. I
felt her doing something to my left hand, realized she was removing my
wedding band. I'd noted its incongruity once or twice. As

Ellen twisted it off my finger, I realized just how wrong it was to wear
it any longer. Women don't wear wide gold bands. They can't be married
other women in our state. I tried and failed to blink away a rush of
tears. Suddenly, the name of the dull emotion filling me had a name.

It was grief. I was mourning my own death. Ellen's husband was dead,
gone forever. Shamelessly begging to suck that cock, thrilling to each and
every sensation, had sealed his fate, made his resurrection, not merely
unlikely, but impossible. I was Sheila now, body and soul.

I was surprised to feel her doing something else to my ring finger. A
new ring, lighter, thinner, slipped over my knuckle. I strained my neck
but couldn't see it. She slid her hand down my back, cupped my ass cheeks
and petted them.

"How much money do we have in savings?"

Her finger distracted me as it toyed with my tender asshole. Her
question made no sense for a moment. I sniffed away tears enough to speak.
"I, uh, about two thousand, I guess."

"Good. That'll get us started."

"Started?"

"You want real tits, don't you? They cost money, darling. More like
five thousand than two, I think."

Her finger dipped inside me. My eyes locked on the reflection of my
chest in the mirror. Real tits. Nice big, firm mounds hanging there. To
overflow my slinky bras. To fill a bikini top on the beach. To be petted,
sucked and bitten.

Her voice was dim in my ears. She inserted a second finger. "Umm. I
knew that'd turn you on, slut. We'll shave your larynx and change your
voice while we're at it. Maybe someday we'll be able to buy you a nice
tight cunt, too. Have a doctor gut that useless prick and tuck it away

inside you. You'd have three holes, whore. Room for three cocks at the
same time. You'd like that. Three men fucking you. Hands all over you,
driving you crazy with lust."

Her other hand rubbed my too big clit while her fingers wiggled within
me. I was thrusting against her, watching my sleazy lips pant as my
passion again spiraled toward a new peak.

"Oh, honey," I groaned weakly. "Oh, shit. Fuck me, Ellen. Put
something big and fat in me. Something hot and hard. I need it, honey. I
need it bad."

She laughed merrily. "I've got just the thing. I've been saving it for
a special time like this. Ron? Baby, come on in here."

I saw my shock in the mirror more than I felt it. Ron? We had a
neighbor named Ron. A body-builder our age. Married to a dull, silent
girl named Miriam.

Before I could even shape the question in my mind, it was answered. I
saw a pair of hairy, pillar-like legs approach. Barefoot.

"Take over up here," she purred throatily, withdrawing her fingers from
my ass. "I'll get you ready."

Thicker fingers replaced hers, entered me without delicacy. I saw Ellen
sink to her knees, peer at me from between my legs. She licked her
gleaming scarlet lips. Her hands weighed a huge, hairy pair of balls,
massaged a growing cock. Without taking her eyes off me, she kissed its
swelling head, licked it with a lascivious tongue.

"Yeah, I've been fucking Ron for almost a year, Sheila. I love you, but
your puny prick was never enough for me. Fucking you was always more like
screwing a woman with a cock than being with a real man."

Ron laughed at that, making his dick leap in her hand. She gave it a
more lingering kiss, allowing the whole head to enter her mouth, and
moaning around it. Saliva and lipstick clung to it as she let it pop out.

"We fucked with you right in the next room lots of times, Sheila. We
were doing it in the pool house at the Robinson's party when I told him how
much you got off sneaking around in my lingerie. He was the one who
suggested that we bring you out of the closet, cunt. He saw you

staring at his crotch a couple of times and knew how much you'd love
fucking other guys. He helped me plan the whole thing. He deserves a good
fuck, don't you think? He deserves to be the first to dump a wad in your
ass. Give him a good ride, baby."

She guided his swollen, slickened dick between my cheeks. Her eyes
glittered and her lips were parted as she teased me, rubbing the head
around my puckered hole. What she said was true. I'd noticed the size of
his manhood with what I thought was shameful envy. Now I knew

better. It was desire.

My hole was slick and ready. I tried to push against Ron's hard on.
Ellen backed his cock away, continued her maddening flirtation. "Tell him
what you want, Sheila."

From: nostrumo@nienor.IN-Berlin.DE (Nostrumo)

Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.tg

Subject: Repost TG: The Surprise Vacation by an unknown author and
Tristmegistus (5/6)


The_Surprise_Vacation________________by_an_unknown_author_and_Tristmegistus
_ 5

I knew I was doing exactly as she'd said I would. I was begging to be
ass fucked. Without hesitation, I let my needs roll from my slutty mouth.
"Fuck me, Ron. Fuck my ass hard and deep. Please. Give me what you've
been giving Ellen. Cum in me. I need you. I've wanted you ever since I
watched you move in last year. Ram that fat cock all the way in and fuck
me like a whore."

It was nothing like the dildos Ellen had impaled in me. It was hot,
both hard and silky soft - alive! And, it was huge. As he thrust in that
first few inches, I felt myself stretching, and was filled with a burning
agony. If I could have spoken then, I'd have been begging him to stop. I
couldn't. My lips gaped, made a horrified red circle in the mirror. My
heavily made up eyes were huge. Ron yelled in pain and slapped my ass with
a hard, resounding smack. "Relax, cunt! You're hurting me!"

I gasped for breath tried to concentrate on doing what he said. I must
have achieved it, because he slid in deeper, then began a slow pumping.
Each push lessened the pain. The heat of him, the overwhelming fullness of
my ass, felt unlike anything I'd ever known. The mirror

showed his thick shaft disappearing and emerging from my body. Ellen
looked as enraptured as I was. She had one hand in her cunt, was making
wet noises with her fingers. She used the other to alternately hold her
lover's balls and caress my hidden ones.

Overcome with lust, Ron gave up on gentleness. He took my narrow hips
in his hands and pushed hard, forcing the last half of his meat all the way
in. He started slamming into my ass then, without concern for my comfort.
After three of four of his grunting thrusts, I no longer cared. It still
hurt, but the pain became secondary. The sights and sounds and sensations
transported me, mutated the agony, changed it to joy. I started wiggling
my hips, pushed back to greet his plunging cock. I was fucking my wife's
lover, not merely being fucked by him.

It lasted forever and was over too soon. I don't remember Ellen jerking
my retainer off my male organs. I don't know when she started sucking my
straining clit. But I do know that when Ron's pace became frantic, when
his impacts started jarring my teeth and I was positive he was going to
fill me with his cum, I exploded in my wife's hungry mouth with enough
force to gag her.

But, glorious as that was, it paled in significance when Ron blew his
wad in my guts. I closed my eyes. I swear to god I felt his jerking spew
all the way to my throat. I milked him, did my best to squeeze every drop
of his precious sperm from him.

As his pulsing diminished, I felt soft lips on mine, tasted the tangy
cum coating them. I returned Ellen's impassioned kiss, sucked my cum from
her full mouth.

Finally, I was whole.

"Thank you," I murmured into her mouth, making our kiss tender, more
loving than I'd known a kiss could be.

My knees were too weak to support me. When they collapsed, my shoulders
were wrenched hideously. Had Ron not still been gripping my hips, I'd have
dislocated them both. He held me up, his cock shrinking rapidly in my ass,
while Ellen stumbled to her feet and dashed for the

rope. As she released it, our lover lowered me to the cold mirror. I
felt his jism leaking from my hole, warm and sticky, as he pulled out. One
of them freed my arms from the handcuffs.

I lay there on my side, frail and helpless, while Ellen and Ron
embraced. Her hand massaged his limp dick while he crushed her against him
and she strained against his hard lips.

She tore her mouth from his. "I want you," she growled. "It's my
turn." She jerked her head to face me. "Get him hard for me, slut."

She led him by the dick to me, pushed him down toward my face. I bathed
his spent flesh in hot, wet, hungry kisses, tenderly took it into my mouth
and nursed on it, felt it begin to swell, fill my cavity. The second prick
to visit my mouth tasted nothing like the first, felt even better. But
Ellen deprived me of it as soon as I'd gotten it hard. She positioned
herself on her hands and knees beside me, guided the pole in her hand
between spread thighs. Her eyes closed blissfully

as he entered her. I reached out and started squeezing her dangling
tits. Ron batted my hands away and grabbed them himself, using them for
handles as he rode her, just as savagely as he had me.

His violent thrusts moved her face closer to me. When her eyes opened,
they were glassy with lust. She attacked my mouth with hers, grunted into
me each time he hammered her. When she started cumming, she bit my lower
lip. Each time she spasmed, she bit harder. When he suddenly

stopped, she whined in shock and need.

His voice was a snarl. "Slide under your cunt of a wife, bitch. Lick
my balls while I fuck her. See how a real woman takes a dick."

I scrambled to obey. I not only kissed and sucked his balls, I also
flicked my tongue over Ellen's swollen clit, lapped the fluids that
overflowed her pussy. Her lips were on my organ again, lapping the cum
that'd oozed from my ass. I was still so loose that her tongue actually
entered me. I humped her face like the wanton slut I was. I had no more
boundaries. A lifetime of limits, of denial, rolled off me like a shed
skin. I embraced my new existence, fit both Ron's tender balls between
widely opened lips and rolled my wife's clit with unabashed abandon.

She began another series of orgasms, had to give up my little dick in
order to howl and scream. I released Ron's testicles when I felt them
tighten. It was astounding to see his huge rod swell and throb and fill
her twitching cunt with another load of cum. As it leaked past her labia,
I devoured it, eliciting still more shrieks from her. Ron jerked out and
rolled away, gasping for breath. I devoured her vacated hole, and she
continued to cum, continued to shrilly cry out,

wracked by spasms I refused to let end.

Finally, sobbing, she fell on top of me, moving her throbbing groin out
of reach.

A sated, warm relaxation enveloped me. I only vaguely recall the chill
when Ellen rolled off me. She and Ron spoke softly, but I could make no
sense of their words. I sank into a deep peaceful sleep.

9. Chapter - Awakening

There was a vague noise. It was dark. The bed was far too hard, too
cold. I was curled into a tight ball. When I began to roll over, I was
ripped by pain. My ass. My jaws. My shoulders. I moaned.

"Wake up, whore." The ceiling light flared blindingly.

Memory filled me, and my pain was explained. I was still on the kitchen
floor.

Ellen leaned against the doorframe, smoking. She wore only high heels
and hose. Her nipples were swollen. Bite marks decorated the slope of her
tits. Her makeup was mostly gone. What remained made her look cheap, used
- and beautiful.

I tried to speak. My throat was dry, raw, emitted only a croak.

"Ron went home," she explained. "We're through with the bed. Get your
sleazy ass up there."

I was afraid I'd have to crawl up the stairs, but somehow managed to
climb painfully to my feet. I used the walls to keep myself erect and
followed her swaying ass and trail of smoke.

She released me from the corset and made me sleep in the huge wet spot
they'd left on the sheets. Each breath filled me with the perfume of their
fucking. I'd been good enough to earn a night in bed. No chains. The
world faded again.

It was still dark when I awoke, my bowels and bladder both demanding
relief. I eased Ellen's arm off me and tiptoed into the bathroom. It hurt
so much that I was afraid I was shitting blood, but my stool looked
perfectly normal. Wiping was agonizing. I shuddered a little, remembering
how huge Ron had felt in me, and hoped that being fucked wasn't always
going to hurt so much.

I steeled myself before using the mirror, but the glass wasn't the enemy
it had been. Even without the corset, I was able to convince myself that
my image was that of an undeveloped - rather, a developing - woman. Those
sweet lips had hosted two cocks after all, and the

dimpled ass had taken its first prick. I squeezed and lifted my chest.
If I continued to please Ellen, my tits would grow into firm globes like
hers. Men could suck them, slide their greased dicks between them as I
pressed them together. I'd could kiss the cock heads at the top of their
thrusts, watch them swell and eject their sperm all over my face.

I renewed my vow to be good and fought down the urge to stroke my hard
clit.

I was ready to turn off the light and go back to bed when I finally
noticed the ring. Where my wedding band had been was a small diamond
engagement ring. A stab of sadness knifed me, the grief that'd been cut
off before. I hurriedly flicked off the light, but the emotion wasn't so
easily banished. It clung to me like stale sperm, refusing to allow me to
get back to sleep.

Mourning my own death was hard. There was no corpse to shed tears over,
nothing to bury so the healing could begin. I lay there until Ellen awoke.
I went through the motions of bathing, dressing, applying my makeup,
fetching and carrying for her on command. If she noticed my

silent anguish, she made no comment.

After I'd done the breakfast dishes, she had me give us both manicures.
She was surly, terse, easily upset. She smoked heavily and her every word
dripped with scorn. Nothing I did was quite good enough. I was extremely
cautious, not wanting to do anything to upset her further. A

sinking feeling was added to my vague sorrow. Something was wrong. She
left me to do my chores and vanished into our bedroom.

It was a little after two in the afternoon when she came downstairs,
dressed to kill in the wet looking black minidress and metal-tipped
stiletto heels. Her makeup and bearing were those of a *********. I was
nearly finished mopping the kitchen floor. She stood close enough to let
me see that, as before, her shaven cunt was exposed between her mesh hose
and garter belt. I felt plain in my work clothes and minimal makeup.

"I'm going out. I want you to meet me in the airport Hilton bar at
eight. Wear something really slutty, Sheila. There's someone I want you
to meet."

"Are you ..." I swallowed. "Is Ron ..."

"This has nothing to do with Ron, darling. It's strictly for us. But
it's very important - maybe the most important date you'll ever have - so
look your best. Understand?"

I let my eyes fall from her moist pussy back to the vinyl. "Do you have
to go so early? I mean -"

Her smoky laugh was sharp enough to interrupt me. "Is my little fag
bitch scared to be alone? Or just jealous that I may be getting my brains
fucked out while you're doing housework?"

I blushed. "You've never left me by myself before."

"Of course I have, love. At the beauty salon, and right here in this
room. You've spent hours all by yourself. Your chains and ropes are just
invisible now." She stroked my long hair, pulled my head against her belly,
rubbed my cheek over her sleekly covered mons. "Would you like to kiss my
pussy goodbye? Get it nice and moist for the cock that may be in it in a
while?"

I nodded. She planted her feet to either side of my head. I slid the
skirt up and exposed her brown-lipped lower mouth. She rocked up and down
on my tongue and nose until my face was wet with her flow. As I ate her, I
was overcome with desire. She was going out, going to get herself laid for
some mysterious purpose, and I was preparing her for whoever would part
these very lips with a prick. I wondered how often she'd done this sort of
thing without my knowledge. I wondered how many men had fucked her eager
pussy while I watched a stupid football games or stayed late at the office.
I wondered if Ron knew what a slut she was. And, I wondered who she'd
fixed me up with, who'd be fucking my ass or mouth in a few hours - and why
it was so important.

She abruptly jerked her flooded core from my hungry mouth, ending my
lusty reverie. Her voice was low and throaty. "Take off your blouse,
baby. I need to tighten your corset before I leave."

It was the red one. As she strained against the laces, compressing my
waist to at least twenty-two inches, I was already visualizing what I'd
wear to meet her. How many loads of cum would her body have absorbed by
the time I arrived? A sudden thought stopped my impassioned

planning. "How will I get there? To the hotel?"

"A cab, of course. I left twenty dollars on the vanity."

Somehow the idea of taking a taxi was more intimidating than getting
dressed to go fuck some stranger. I tried to hide my nerves, as well as my
shameful excitement. Her crooked scarlet smile told me I failed at both.
She tied off my laces, smoothed her dress to cover as much as it could, and
swayed out without another word. I listened as her metal shod heels
clacked over the floor, silently crossed the carpet, then echoed for a few
strides in the garage. The door ground open. I

watched from the window as she backed down the drive, cigarette dangling
between slick, fat red lips. I saw Jerome Hillyard, our neighbor across
the street, stare open mouthed at the change that'd taken place in her.
Had he done more than stare? Had she fucked him, too? How many of our
neighbors had dipped their wicks in Ellen's hot hole? A lot of them, I
perversely hoped, twisting the engagement band circling my ring finger.

I fought the urge to dash upstairs and begin getting ready. It was too
soon. And Ellen had made it clear that she expected all my work to be done
before I left the house. I compelled myself to settle down and do the
laundry.

I'd barely fixed my lipstick and gotten started when the doorbell rang.
I froze in the midst of loading the dryer with damp lingerie. I couldn't
answer the door! What if it was Jerome, or some other acquaintance? I
couldn't let anybody see me like this! I decided to ignore it, pretend I
wasn't home. But whoever was there leaned insistently on the buzzer.

I peeked from the laundry room window, was simultaneously thrilled and
dismayed to see that it was Ron. I was hesitant to let him in without
Ellen there. He'd want to know where she'd gone, what she was doing. He
was liable to fly into a jealous rage. But he obviously wasn't

going to leave.

Checking my face in the mirror, I fluffed my hair a little and hurried
nervously to the door. I wouldn't let him in. I'd tell him we were busy,
that I'd have Ellen call as soon as she could.

But, the instant I opened the door a crack, he pushed it wider and
stepped past me.

"Ellen's busy," I blurted, hiding behind the door, leaving it open.
"Maybe you should come back -"

"Ellen's gone. I saw the car drive up the block a few minutes ago." He
ambled insolently to the couch and sat down.

"Then what ..." I began, but my voice failed me. Was he here to see me?

"Close the door and come over here, bitch. I've been thinking about
that tight asshole of yours all day. I want another piece of it."

I blushed, both fearful and flattered. I was sure Ellen wouldn't want
him to use me unless she was here to watch. He was her boyfriend, after
all. "I don't think that's a good idea, Ron." I kept the door cracked.

"Oh, come off it, slut! Don't play hard to get. We both know that's
pure bullshit. You know you want it. You let me know last night how much
you liked it. So get your sleazy ass over here. Wrap those hot lips
around my dick and let me fuck that sexy face. If you're real good, I may
even let you jack off while I drill your ass."

He was right, of course. I did want it. I had the instant I saw him
through the window. I vividly remembered how grand it'd been to be filled,
stretched, used like I was a real woman. Honestly, part of his
attractiveness was because he was Ellen's lover. Having the prick that'd
been in her so many times rammed into me made me feel even more weak kneed.
It'd be wicked to fuck him behind her back. But, if I got caught ...

Wickedness won out. Besides, if I resisted, he'd just take me anyway.
What could I do? Call the police and scream ****? Run madly from the
house? I leaned against the door and flipped the deadbolt.

He wasn't into small talk or foreplay. As I approached, both eager and
timid, Ron pointed to the floor between his legs. I sank to my knees,
staring at the growing lump hidden by his shorts. It knew how large it
was, what it tasted like. And this time, I didn't have to share it with
anyone. I was alone with my first man. I was betraying Ellen just like
she had me. I was as big a whore as she was. Saliva began to fill my
mouth.

But I wanted information along with his dick. I wanted to know how
large a role he'd played in changing me into the cock hungry bitch I'd
become in less than a week. So, as I reached out to lightly massage his
cock, I licked my lips and tried to milk him of more than his cum.

"I meant to thank you last night for everything you've done to help
Ellen."

His laugh was brutal. "Jesus. I can't believe you're really into it
this much. How can any man let this happen to him without a fight?"

I slowly lowered his zipper. "I'm not just any man," I told his
swelling groin. "I've always been a wimp. I think I've wanted to be like
this all my life, but never had the courage to admit it. I thought you
knew that."

"Not until Ellen told me about how much you got off on her clothes and
shit."

My hand reached his flesh. It was so warm, so silky. "I wish she'd
told you sooner. How long did you two plan this?"

He drew a harsh breath as I fished his manhood from his underwear and
loose shorts. It was beautiful. It nestled against my curved red nails
like an eager pet begging to be stroked.

"Six months or so, I guess. God, you're sexy. Kiss it, bitch."

I teased the head with my tongue. I wanted the whole thing buried in my
throat, but was enraptured with the power of my situation. Ellen had made
me beg. Ron had, too, the night before. I wanted to turn the tables. He
already wanted me, but I needed him to crave me, to plead with me.

"Tell me about it. It's so exciting, Ron. I want to hear everything."

While I tinted his cock flesh with my brilliant lip color, while I
licked his hairy sack, I prompted him to keep talking.

"I knew the look," he groaned. "Guys have been looking at my dick in
the shower, just the way you did, ever since I was a k**. I knew right off
you were a fag, and couldn't figure out why a gorgeous bitch like Ellen
stayed with you. Ooh, shit. Deeper, baby."

I tried to angle my head, to fit more of him between my bulging lips.
Pink saliva glistened the length of his rod. It felt like my mouth had
been designed to do this. "More," I gasped. "Tell me more."

"Ahh! That's it!" he groaned as my questing lips took more meat,
stretched to reach for his balls. His hips started to rise and fall.
"Ellen laughed when I told her how you looked at me. That's when she
started watching you closer and caught you messing around in her shit. I
told her I thought you'd make a hot looking slut. God, was I ever right!
Oh, yeah! Suck it, baby!"

I was thrilled beyond words when my throat seemed to open and I
swallowed him. My smeared lips nestled at the very root of his prick. I'd
done it! I stayed there, immobile but for my spasming throat and questing
lips, until black motes swam before my eyes and I was compelled to release
him and gasp air. I stared down in astonishment at his glistening eight
inches. I was ready to cum. I resisted the impulse to reach down and
touch myself and rocket into heaven. I wanted this to last. I wanted to
hear more. I was certain I could make him tell me whatever I wanted.

"You wanted me, too," I purred, lapping the length of his staff with my
tongue. "You've always wanted me to suck your cock, haven't you?"

"Yeah. I knew you'd be good. Almost every time I fucked Ellen, I
dreamed of you looking like this, doing this. I wanted to hurry things
along. Your bitch of a wife insisted we had to go slow."

"Umm," I said, taking him half way in then backing off. "Good things
come to those who wait, lover. Am I as good as she is?"

"Better," he growled, grabbing my hair and jerking my head down. Now
that I knew how, I let him impale every wonderful inch into me. "She won't
let me fuck her ass, and deep throat makes her puke."

He humped my mouth until I was afraid I was going to pass out. I had to
struggle free. My voice was raw. I felt crazed by my need for what was
happening. But there was still a glimmer of caginess left in me, as if it
was part of my widening lust. "You can do anything you want

to me. I don't care. The dirtier and nastier, the better. I love
being treated like a cheap whore. Was that your idea, too?"

"Yeah. Nothing turns my crank more than sluts in tight dresses and wild
makeup. The first time I made Ellen dress up for me, I fucked her for four
hours non-stop. I made her cum until she begged me to quit. She loved it,
too. I knew she would. Anybody who wanted to turn her old man into a
fucking woman had to be really twisted. Turns out she couldn't get enough
after that."

I was pumping him with both hands, letting my mouth writhe over the top
half of his erection. I didn't know how much more I could take. My
sphincter muscles were tightening and loosening on my butt plug. My ass
felt moist, more than ready.

"Did you make her fuck other guys? Did you make her dress cheap and
take her out and show her off?"

He was close to losing control. "We went to parties. It was her idea.
But she never hosed anybody else. I wondered if maybe she wanted to, but
it ever happened. I let her flirt, dance, make them hot, then I'd take her
into a bedroom and fuck her stupid. We'd go back and party

some more and my cum would be running down her legs." He struggled up in
the sofa, tried to pry me off his cock. "Has she been fucking around? Has
she?"

"No!" I insisted, kissing just the head of his hard treasure. "Of
course not! You keep her so well fucked, how could she?"

"Have you fucked her, slut? Have you poked that little dick of your
inside her pussy?"

I pulled on his cock and backed away from the sofa. "Not for almost a
month - and never again. I eat her whenever she wants. I can make her cum
with my tongue better than I ever could the other way. Come here, Ron.
I'm so fucking hot. My ass needs you so bad. Fuck me. Please. Fill my
hot little ass with that huge thing. Make me scream. Fuck me hard and
mean and shoot your cum way, way up inside me. Tell me what's going to
happen next, baby."

He stroked himself, staring at me with burning eyes while I wiggled out
of my tight jeans. I'm not even sure he knew he was speaking.

"She going to do like she said. She's going to get you tits. Make you
get a job as a woman. She says she's got friends who can help."

I curled my legs up toward my chest, spread my ass cheeks so he could
see me remove my plug. The sensation of having him watch me readying
myself for him was a thrill as intense as swallowing his entire length had
been. He was so big, so strong. I was weak and small - yet I was in
control.

He leapt toward me, rolled me over onto my stomach. "Wait," I
whispered. "I want this to be good. The best you've ever had, Ron. I want
to make my asshole slick and wet for you. I want to lube myself with my
cum. When you fuck me, it'll be like fucking myself."

I had him hypnotized. I relished having my ass raised for him, peeling
away my retainer, exposing my purpled, lust heavy cock and balls. I knew
something he didn't. He was as gay as I was. He wanted me more than he
ever wanted Ellen. I could have made him suck me, as I had him - but a sly
part of me knew that if I did, I'd lose control of him. He'd be too
sickened by what he'd done to ever be nice to me again. He needed to
believe he was the neighborhood's straight, macho, musclebound hunk. So, I
gripped myself, tickled myself with my long painted nails and teased him
yet more. I bent my rod back and imagined it was sliding up my ass. It
only took a few moments. I gasped, with my inflamed cheek pressed into the
carpet, while I pumped sticky

streams toward my back door and rubbed my sperm into my tender flesh,
dipping my fingers into my loosened asshole, pushing as much cum as I could
inside myself.

My voice was hollow with need. "Do it, Ron. Fuck me. Do it now."

I took him much easier than I had the first time. There was no pain or
chain to distract me. Like my mouth, my ass now seemed designed for cock.
I revelled in the spoils of my seduction, the depth of his hammering
thrusts. I had more power as a woman than I'd ever had as a man. My body
had become a real tool for pleasure. Cindy had given me my retainer in
return for sexual favors and told me how fantastic I was. The man I'd
sucked at the bar had paid me with a drink and cigarettes in return for the
blowjob of his life. I'd wrapped Ron around my painted pinky. I was
beginning to think I might be able to manipulate Ellen, if I was careful.

Ron's pummelling was taking its toll on me. My cock had rehardened.
When I angled my hips just right, it felt like he was fucking the inside of
my overgrown clit. Sharp electric bolts tore through me, and all thoughts
were buried beneath the cascade of sensation. When he howled and filled my
guts with his cream, I jerked and spewed in sympathy. He collapsed atop
me, his mass pinning me to the carpet. Being held and having my neck
kissed between his ragged breaths was

almost as rewarding as being fucked.

"You are one fine lay, cunt," he sighed into my ear. "We'll have to do
this again."

I carefully squeezed my buttocks together, caressing his still buried
dick. "Any time, darling. But right now, I'd better get up and get back
to my housework or Ellen's going to be really pissed."

"Speaking of the queen cunt, what's she up to?"

"She didn't say," I lied. I was protecting her. Ron was obviously
unaware he wasn't her only source of cock. He may or may not have been the
one to awaken in her a taste for tight dresses and heavy makeup, but I was
ninety-nine percent certain that today wasn't her first solo foray into the
world of bar sex. The only reason she hadn't gotten laid the night before
was because she needed to watch me get it so badly.

"Maybe it'd be a good idea not to mention that I dropped by," he said as
he raised his hips, freeing his limp meat with a soft sound that echoed
inside me.

I felt empty. My ass clutched around nothingness. Well, not quite. I
felt his cum oozing from my still opened hole. "Whatever you say, Ron."
Another rush made me shiver. It was almost time to wrap myself in the red
outfit, paint my face as nastily as I knew how, climb in a cab and go to a
hotel bar. I felt hot all over, and eager for Ron to leave.

Luckily, he was ready to go, too. A thought struck me as he rolled me
over for a farewell kiss to my smeared mouth. "Could you do me a little
favor before you go?" I asked him between tastes of his mouth.

"Sure."

"Help me change shoes. I still can't reach my ankles very well when I'm
in my corset." I smiled inwardly. Would Ellen wonder how I'd managed this
trick? "And, while you're here, maybe you could tighten my laces a little.
They seem to have worked loose somehow," I giggled.

I didn't complain that he overdid the tightening a little, reducing my
waist to closer to twenty inches, swelling what little tits I had even
more. After he strapped the towering red heels to my slim ankles, I reached
up and kissed him goodbye, feeling his prick already stirring against my
tiny belly. The fact that I could do that to a man who'd just cum inside
me a few minutes before made me feel very good. I was a foxy little slut.
Everybody who saw me would want me, and I wanted

to be desired, to be lusted after.

So, the instant I locked the door behind my lover, I cleaned up the cum
staining the carpet, but decided to take a risk and forget about my other
tasks, despite the consequences. I had much more important things to take
care of.

10. Chapter - Changes

My heart was hammering wildly by the time the taxi pulled into the
drive. I'd asked the dispatcher to make sure the driver didn't honk, but
apparently he hadn't gotten the word, because he did anyway, long and loud.
The entire neighborhood was alerted, no doubt peeking out their windows to
see what was going on. Horrified, I debated what to do. The cabbie again
leaned on the horn. Waiting was only going to make it worse. I bolted
from the front door, praying I wouldn't be recognized for what I was.

My prayer was ignored. Nosy Jerome, across the street, was plainly
visible, again drop-jawed. First he'd witnessed Ellen's departure, clad in
her skintight black minidress and wearing ten pounds of makeup. Now, some
strange woman - me, her lighter twin - in just as few clothes

and just as much makeup. The proverbial cat was probably out of the
bag.

I was mildly surprised by how little I cared. Unless relocation was in
Ellen's plans, the neighbors would no doubt see much more of me in the
future. I was absolutely determined that my two week vacation would
stretch out to encompass the rest of my life. I settled into the seat

and crossed my legs.

The driver was watching me in the mirror. I favored him with a bright
smile. He apparently wasn't used to picking up women who looked like
streetwalkers in such a respectable part of the city. I knew exactly what
my clinging, flame red dress, shimmering platinum blonde mane, and

gaudy makeup made me look like.

Being outside the house without Ellen was almost s much fun as fucking
without her at my side. I felt free to do whatever I wanted. I teased the
driver to distraction with my legs and lips, pretending I was ignorant of
what I was doing to him. But, when I leaned forward to ask him for a
cigarette, I saw the tent his erection was making in his pants. I toyed
with the idea of sucking him off rather than paying ******** my fare, but I
didn't find him all that attractive, and I wasn't very horny. Besides, I
was already nearly late and didn't want to risk Ellen's wrath.

As it turned out, it wouldn't have mattered a whole lot. I was slowed
by fear the moment I stepped from the cab. This was a very busy place.
Travelers were leaving and arriving as if this hotel was the airport
itself. My newly discovered confidence was shaken by the hustle and

bustle. I tapped into the bar, feeling scrutinized by thousands of
eyes. It was packed, of course. I scanned the tables and barstools
nervously and found no sign of Ellen. No tables were vacant, although by
the looks I was getting, I could have joined any number of solo males. I
opted for the view a seat at the bar would give me.

I stood out radically in the somberly dressed mob. The dim light didn't
seem to dull my screaming red dress, and I felt like my long silver-blonde
tresses reflected every bit of available light. For the first time since
Ellen had left, I missed her. Had she been there at my side, I'd have
revelled in the attention that saturated me. Instead, I felt vulnerable,
exposed - and scared.

I spent the last of my twenty dollars on a glass of wine. I wouldn't
have had to, of course. There was very little I'd have ever had to buy for
myself, dressed like that in a hotel bar. While that notion thrilled me
more than a little, it did nothing to banish my uneasiness. Where was
Ellen?

I rebuffed three thinly veiled offers of "a drink or something," and my
rejections earned me a little space. Apparently, I wasn't the readily
available bar girl I appeared, they must have reasoned. My self-confidence
began to return. But the fourth voice in my ear startled me when the man
it belonged to called me by name.

"You must be Sheila," came the gutturally accented baritone.

I stared for a long, uncomfortable moment. He was tall and thin, with a
mop of unkempt blondish hair. He slouched and his tie was crooked, making
his suit look too expensive for him.

If I'd been able to maintain the mood Ron left me in, feeling as brazen
as my outfit, I'd have smiled provocatively and come back with something
witty. Instead, I blurted, "Where's Ellen?" acting as

insecure as I felt.

His smile was mysterious. At least I was able to identify his accent as
Germanic. "I am Hans. Ellen is upstairs in a meeting and has asked you to
join us." He performed one of those silly little stiff continental
half-bows and offered me his arm.

Upstairs meant a hotel room. My throat tightened and my clit gave a
little lurch. I stood, nervously smoothed my skirt, and tried to take his
elbow like I'd been doing it all my life. It was a curiously pleasing
sensation to be e*****ed so formally back through the bar and lobby toward
the elevators. My mind was spinning. Meeting? What exactly did that
mean? It was an odd term, applied to Ellen the way she'd acted when she
left me that afternoon. The only business she'd

acted capable of transacting was on her back with her legs flung wide.

I was staggered. Literally. Hans gave me a concerned look as he pushed
the call button. I feigned a reassuring smile. Was that it? Was Ellen
selling her cunt? The conversation in the bar in the mall replayed itself.
The one about her cigarettes. What if, she'd said, she'd been dressing and
making herself up like that and "going out" for six months - about the time
she and Ron had hatched their plot. I'd assumed then that she'd been
trying to hurt me. While I'd sucked Ron's

dick, I'd imagined that there'd been some truth to her hypothetical
statement, that he'd uncovered in her a desire to look and act like a
tramp. But I hadn't imagined she'd actually whore herself. Surely, I'd
have known. Ruefully, I admitted that I hadn't known anything about my
wife until a week ago.

The dinging arrival of the elevator jolted me from my reverie. In the
close confines of the metal box, my e***** smelled of liquor and tobacco. A
quick craving for a cigarette grabbed me.

Speaking took effort. "Excuse me, Hans. May I have a cigarette?"

They were imported. He made no comment about the no smoking sign as he
lit it for me. The lighter was an ornate gold thing that matched the case
in which he kept his tobacco. It was harsh and oddly satisfying. My
lipstick was almost invisible against the dark brown paper.

I kept my voice going. "Uh, what kind of 'meeting' is this?"

He nodded, frowning slightly, as if confirming something. "As I
thought, she hasn't discussed this with you. Your friend has been in
contact with myself and several of my colleagues for a number of months."
His voice registered deep disapproval.

Ellen had introduced herself as my friend? To discuss what? Instead of
asking those questions, I quickly reassured him. "She and I are very
close. I'm sure she meant this as a surprise."

His expression softened. "In that case, perhaps I have said too much?"

I squeezed his bicep, gave him a soft smile. "It'll be our secret."

His thin lips curved upwards and his eyes more or less politely measured
by body. "As you wish. I must say, you seem quite well adjusted."

I felt myself pale. He knew about the secret between my legs. I was
confused. Should I feel betrayed or flattered? I took smoke very
carefully to cover my embarrassment. The elevator door opened at the top
floor. Again I accepted his arm. The far wall of the hall was mirrored. I
saw an extremely sexy little blonde woman, clad in fuck-me red, on the arm
of a tall thin man. She was gorgeous, in a brazen way, but her visible
discomfort was spoiling her desirability.

From: nostrumo@nienor.IN-Berlin.DE (Nostrumo)

Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.tg

Subject: Repost TG: The Surprise Vacation by an unknown author and
Tristmegistus (6/6)

6
_The_Surprise_Vacation_______________by_an_unknown_author_and_Tristmegistus
_

Angry at myself, I hugged my e*****'s arm more tightly, deliberately
pressed my thigh to his as we walked down the hall. He squeezed my arm and
smiled. He knew, but he didn't mind being close to me. Was he the
"special friend" I was to meet? Was I being nice enough to him? And,

above all, was he going to fuck me? If Ellen was whoring herself, was
she going to sell my holes to this man and his "colleagues?" My belly
hollowed, not entirely with fear.

I was anticipating a sordid scene as Hans turned to face a door and
swung it open. My throat was tight. Would the room be filled with men?
Maybe I'd see Ellen on her hands and knees, sucking one cock while being
fucked by another, or ...

What I was presented with was even more shocking. Ellen sat at the head
of a table with three men. They were examining papers, not her pussy. Her
makeup and hair weren't mussed. I felt a shameful stab of disappointment.
She glanced up from what she was reading, and the room fell silent as all
eyes focused on me.

They weren't the kind of looks I was growing accustomed to. They were
cold, clinical, examining me more like a side of beef than a target of
lust. I felt like a fool. Ellen had set me up, led me to believe that I
was coming here to get laid - and I'd eagerly leapt at the chance to

open my orifices to whoever wanted them.

A blast of raw sanity ripped through me. I saw myself as I was, for the
first time in days. I wasn't a woman. I was a married male with a dark,
newly revealed, twisted taste for cock. I was a sham, a parody, a pathetic
joke. My sickness had filled me. I'd given myself over to it. I'd
embraced my depravity, wanting to believe I'd had no choice. I'd lied to
myself all the way along. If I'd really wanted to, I could have resisted
Ellen's dominance and torture. I'd had more

opportunities than I could count to stubbornly say no, to insist that
this charade end. I hadn't, purely because I'd craved every last moment of
what had happened to me. I'd needed the excuses her coercion provided.

All this in one of those wordless insights that take up such a paltry
amount of clock time, yet change everything. Ellen was just beginning to
part her lips and introduce me. Her associates, or whatever they were, had
yet to complete their scan of me. In that mere instant, I'd shed my slutty
horniness and was wallowing in full-blown despair.

A strange numbness kept the scene at a distance. It was like I was
floating somewhere near the ceiling, emotionlessly observing what was going
on below as if it was happening to someone else. I mechanically took the
chair Hans held for me. I saw my legs cross, felt the casual smile on my
lips. Shouldn't I be crying, I remember wondering, almost idly? I sensed
that this was probably one of the most critical moments of my life and was
astonished by the feeling of peace enveloping me.

They were all European physicians specializing in various aspects of
gender re-assignment. Ellen had sought them out months before. They were
there to assess me. If I passed their examinations, I was to become a
woman.

In my altered state of consciousness, I felt no qualms, no hesitation. I
basked in the glow of Ellen's proud smile. Yes, I quietly insisted, this
is what I wanted, with all my heart. No, there was no chance I'd regret
such a momentous decision. I was committed. No, I didn't need

the traditional year of living in female guise to be sure. I was ready,
right then.

The interview took three gruelling hours. Two of the doctors had mild
reservations, but I swayed the other two, Hans and a younger Frenchman man
named Jordan. I didn't, of course, leap on an airplane and fly to Denmark
to have my cock made into a cunt, although nothing would have made me
happier. There were arrangements to be made - and finances to be arranged.
It was agreed, though, that I'd receive breast implants in the near future.

Ellen invited them to stay for drinks. Jordan and Hans accepted, and
Ellen called room service while I stepped into the suite's bedroom to
freshen up. As I touched up my face, I began to exit the trance-like state
I'd been wrapped in, and the reality of my choice took hold. It wasn't
fear that emerged, but excitement. A shiver rippled through me as I stared
at the pale flesh of my cleavage and the twin swells below. In ten days,
my corset would embrace living flesh, not molded latex. I could flaunt
them with even deeper necklines. Men could suck them, pinch them, slide
their pricks between them.

My sharp, curved nails worked my false nipples and my real ones
stiffened in sympathy. The thrill settled in, became heat. When the door
opened and Ellen slid through, I was still standing before the mirror,
seeing myself as I was to become. In my mind, I was already a woman, not a
cross-dressed fag slut.

She walked up behind me, encircled my waist with her arms, and hugged
me. I settled against her with a sigh, nestled my head in the cup of her
shoulder, feeling the softness of her tit against my neck.

"You liked my little surprise?" she whispered.

I nodded, nuzzling her tit.

"Would you like to thank Jordan and Hans for their kindness?"

My belly hollowed. "Do you think they'd like that?"

"That's why they stayed, darling."

"To fuck me?"

"To fuck both of us."

She was right. For the first time, I experienced the delirious pleasure
of giving a blow job while having my ass filled, and watching Ellen receive
identical treatment. The only thing about the following hours I didn't
enjoy was being stripped of my corset, having my distinctly masculine body
made love to by Jordan. I hid behind my long silver hair, stared at my
lovely hands while he fucked my ass, cursing hoarsely in French.

They left us around three a.m. I fell asleep in the hotel room bed,
curled in Ellen's arms, after lapping every bit of cum I could reach from
her pussy and ass and mouth. I was more content than I knew I could be.
Three man had enjoyed my body that day. All of them had known everything
there was to know about me, and lusted after me anyway. As I sank into
sleep, I dimly realized that for the first time I was completely unashamed
of what I was.

I awoke disoriented. It took a few seconds to realize where I was. The
bed beside me was empty, but the faint sound of the shower emanating from
the bathroom told me where Ellen was. I stretched, relishing the faint
soreness of my ass. I'd been penetrated there four times, had wildly
humped the men riding me, and felt almost no distracting discomfort. I
fingered myself. My hole was loose and moist. I was ready for more. I
rolled to my feet and padded in to join Ellen in the shower. There wasn't
a cock in the room, so I settled for a pussy, backing my companion into a
corner of the stall, eating her until her knees went weak and she tried to
pull my entire

head into her slit.

I felt so beautiful as I dressed and made myself up that I was almost in
tears. I wanted everyone to know. I wanted to be stared at, desired,
seduced. Ellen's mood was much more reserved, but I barely noticed. I
felt free, in an all new way. I was ecstatically aware, as we made our way
back to the car, of the wide sway of my ass and the bounce of my tits. I
was totally at ease with the way my every move was watched, and easily met
the eyes of those staring at me.

I didn't catch Ellen's anger until we were well on our way home, and
even then she had to slap me with it.

"You're nothing but a fucking tramp," she spat with venom after I'd
favored another driver with a wide red smile.

I was shocked by the depth of her rage. I studied the floorboard. "I'm
sorry. I just feel -"

"Nothing to be sorry about, bitch. You are what you are. Actually, I'm
pleased. It'll make what we have to do a lot easier if I don't have to
force you." She didn't sound pleased.

I drew on my cigarette, nervously rubbed at the lipstick on the filter.
"What do we have to do?" I asked very quietly.

Her laugh was a harsh bark. "We have to make a lot of money for your
surgery."

I stared blankly at her for a moment, then looked out the window. I
didn't want her to see my smile. There weren't many ways to raise the
three thousand dollars we needed in ten days. I was going to be a very
busy girl for a while. The only question in my mind was if she was going
to whore herself on bar stools beside me. I hoped so. I really liked
sharing with her.

End















http://www.*****.org/files/Collections/Old_Joe%27s_Collection/TG/Femdom/Domination%20of%20Jason%20-%20Mule.txt

The Domination of Jason


This is simply one long rambling story divided in to six parts in
a vaguely logical manner so it doesn't come across as one 1,500
line file. There is very little actual sex in this story, but
there are some descriptions of scenes and techniques that may be
of interest to some people in their role playing.

Domination of Jason
Chapter 1

"Oh, my God," I exclaimed, "what are you doing?" It was perfectly
obvious what Jason, my husband, was doing. He was playing with
himself!

I had just finished the laundry and was putting the linens and
towels away. I entered the bathroom to put some fresh towels on
the rack when I surprised my husband as he was kneeling in front
of the toilet manipulating his organ.

I had suspected that he was up to something all along as he would
frequently lock himself in the bathroom. I thought it odd that
after being married several years that he would still be
squeamish about his bathroom habits.

Apparently, he forgot to lock the door this time. He stopped and
became very red in the face when I came in.

I put the towels on the vanity and left without saying another
word.

Jason got out of the bathroom and tried to explain, "Honey, I..."

I cut him off, "I don't want to talk about it. I don't know what
to think. You think you were a teenager. You ought to be ashamed
of yourself. Get out of my sight."

He disappeared into the garage to tinker which is what he does
whenever he's in the doghouse. I yelled a departing shot at him,
"And don't even think about sex with me for at least a week!". I
didn't care that it was spring and the windows were open.

For the rest of the week I didn't even let him touch me in bed.
For the rest of the week, he was more subdued and fawning over me
attempting to win himself into my good graces.

For the rest of the week, I thought about a grown man playing
with himself and it intrigued me in a perverse sort of way. On
the one hand, I was infuriated that Jason would feel the need for
additional sexual release. Was I not woman enough for him? Yet,
on the other hand, I really wanted to watch him do it. Could I be
the one driving him to it? I had to know.

I had some books on sex, and they talked a little about male
masturbation, but they went into the how rather than the why. I
wanted to know so badly why men would do these things. The books
confirmed that they did, indeed, do them.

I wouldn't think about asking Jason, so, I confided in my next
door neighbor, Debbie. She and I had known one another since high
school. During those days we told each other everything,
especially our relationships with boys.

We still talked about our relationships with men. She had
confided in me that she had given quite a number of "hand jobs"
while in college and told me about some of the things she did
with her lovers. If any woman knew about penis pumping, she did.

My guesses were correct. After a very embarrassing introduction
of the subject, I finally explained what I caught Jason doing.

"Oh, Anne," she said, "Don't worry about it. It's very common.
Men do it all the time. You don't know how lucky you are. Work
with Jason on this. Both of you will like it, and, if you do your
stuff right, you can really benefit out of it."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Jason is your typical oversexed male. He can't get enough sex
and will seek release anywhere. Once he gets it, he loses
interest. I bet that once he gets it off with you, he drops you
like a hot potato."

"You got that right. How do you know so much about Jason?"

"This isn't rocket science, dear. I just described about 95% of
the male population. They're all just about the same. That's what
makes it so easy."

"Makes what so easy?" I asked.

"Female control! If you can control his release, you can control
him."

"Why would I want to control him."

"It's worth a shot. Think of it. No more housework, no more
laundry, hour long back rubs, guaranteed orgasms whenever you
want them. Jason can do it all for you."

"Whoa, girl!" I exclaimed. "What makes you think that Jason will
go along with this?"

"Most men think alike, they have hidden guilt feelings about the
control they have over women in the business place and in other
aspects of their lives. They know they are in control `out
there.' In the outside world they have all kinds of support
systems. The world is built according to their rules, and so far,
everybody has played the game their way. Take them out of that
familiar environment and put them one-one-one where it really
counts..." She trailed off turning the phrase into a question.

We sat in silence for a few moments as she let me digest what I
just heard. "In bed, it's different. Not every man is clear about
his standing with women.Some of them never resolve the sexual
conflicts they faced as c***dren. When things get though, they
try to retreat to their pasts when things were much simpler. Some
of them would like to make it all the way back to the womb, but
most of them enjoy getting back to the stage of being totally
dependant upon a woman -- mom."

She laughed, "Yeah, I know, sounds a little too Freudian. Well,
Freud wasn't all wrong. He got this part right at least. Most men
want moms to take care of them. Mom provided love, but she also
provided discipline. Some men get them mixed up. c***dhood was a
time of bliss when no decisions had to be made. You didn't even
have to figure out right from wrong. Mom did all that for you."

"That's another part of it -- giving up responsibility. Men feel
that they have to be in control all of the time. Bullshit! They
stand firm and won't bend. Instead of bending, they break. They
try to crawl back into the womb. They surrender. They become
dependent on you. The most dominant men in the boardroom are
often the most submissive men in the bedroom. I know, I've had my
share."

"Men also have an incredibly strong attachment to their sex
organs. I think it starts even before puberty. Once they figure
out that they have something girls don't they flaunt it. It
becomes a competition with them. Who can pee the furthest? Who
has the biggest one? Who can jerk off the fastest? In a sense,
men are their own worst enemy. All of them brag about how great
they are in bed. It's probably 99% bullshit, but they swallow it.
They have unrealistic expectations about what their performance
is supposed to be. They are uncertain in the bedroom. Like most
of the other things in their lives, men see sex as a competition.
They compete with other men and their women and, God forbid, even
your past lovers."

"Women get advice and sympathy on sex and how to handle men from
other women instead of `I can do it better than you.' Women, in
general, are more confident in bed. Not only do men compete with
each other in bed, they also compete with women. For them, there
must be a clear winner and a clear loser. They can't see, as us
women do, that sex should be a cooperative effort. When a man and
woman get in bed together, she has the home court advantage.
That's why confident women frighten men so much. In the
competitive mode, there is no half-way measure. It's either the
man dominates the woman, or she must dominate him."

"A man defines his sexuality almost entirely in terms of his
penis. As best I can figure out, there's absolutely nothing like
it in women. Control a man's penis, and you control him.
Considering the love they have for mom, the love they have for
their prick, and the guilt feelings they have towards women in
general, it's little wonder that some men wish to do penance by
servicing females sexually".

I couldn't believe what I was hearing, "Do you really do this
kinky stuff?"

Debbie continued, "Well, first of all, it's not as kinky as you
think. Besides, I normally like well-balanced relationships with
my men, but even the strongest of them has a submissive side. For
the men I really love -- those how know how to respect me -- I
respect that, and I only take advantage of it for our mutual
benefit."

"There are some men, however, who deserve what they get.
Sometimes I just want to get back at the male sex in general. I
remember what it's like growing up as a girl. I was a good
student, yet I was done out of an honors physics class simply
because I was a girl. In my senior year, the girls' swim team
went to the state championships. Yet the boy's losing basketball
team got more respect. Hell, even the cheerleaders got better
press than we did. Having some jock tell me `That's the way it
is.' didn't help."

"Even my own sister sold out. She's the one who taught me what
boys looked like and how we could play with them when we were
***********s. Now she's married and has two c***dren, Amanda and
Greg. She's raising Amada just like mom try to raise us -- to be
a perfect little lady. On the other hand Greg's trangressions are
mostly dismissed with `Boys will be boys." It's a mute testimony
to what everyone considers to be the natural order of things.
Boys got away with murder, and never had to take any
responsibility for it. What's worse, is that they don't even know
they're getting away with it."

"It goes beyond revenge, I have my lusty side as well. There are
times when I want it, I want it all, and I want it all my way. I
become an insatiable bitch.," she laughed. "That's when I find a
macho whimp and use him."

"Macho whimp?" I asked.

"Yeah, macho whimp. Those who brag the most are normally the most
insecure and also the most immature. I use both of these
weaknesses to bring them under my control. I love the feeling of
power. Lord knows I don't see it a work. Hell, I don't even get
it at the mall, at least not in the electronics store or the
automotive parts place."

"In private, I can exercise extreme power. I don't get simple
respect, I extract awe, reverence and worship. First I drive them
into lust, then I drive them into dispair. I love being a
goddess. You can have it all, too."

"I don't see how I get from Jason playing with himself to playing
slave for me, Debbie?"

"Take advantage of what I just taught you, girl. Take advantage
of his physical weakness, and your mental superiority. Most of
this game is played in the head."

I looked at her quizzically.

"It's simple," she said, "When's the last time you and Jason had
sex?"

"About a week ago."

"And has he been playing with himself since."

"I don't think so. He seems doesn't seem to want to do anything
to upset me."

"All the better. Don't you think that he's getting a little horny
by now?"

I laughed, "I imagine so."

"Well, use it. Get that pussy working for you."

She reminded me of previous conversations, "You told me that
Jason has never eaten you out. That's still true, isn't it?"

"Yes..."

"Well, here's your chance. Let me tell you what to do..."

I interrupted, "Wait! I'm not sure I want to do this."

"OK, think about it. I have some stuff I can give you."

Debbie went up to her bedroom, and when she came down, she gave
me some books on female domination.
--
Mule
--


------=_NextPart_000_01BC4199.686FF260
Content-Type: application/octet-stream; name="djason#2.txt"
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit
Content-Description: djason#2.txt (Text Document)
Content-Disposition: attachment; filename="djason#2.txt"




Domination of Jason
Chapter 2

Most of the books Denise gave me were magazines with articles on
female domination, some were dedicated to bondage and discipline
of both sexes in general, and there was one book totally
dedicated to the female top position. She gave me a good
selection from "nearly vanilla" to extremely kinky. It took me a
week to read them all. Boy, Were my eyes opened! I had no idea
how widespread the practice was, and in some cases, how extreme.

What really surprised me was how turned on I got. I went though a
lot of wet panties. I had no reason to wish any physical harm to
my husband, yet the thought of taking control over him, and
humiliating him got me very excited.

When Debbie came over to pick up the books she asked me, "What
are you prepared to do? If you're really going to get into this,
you've got to be committed."

As excited as I was inside about the idea, my actions weren't
quite up to my desires.

"OK, let's run a test," suggested Debbie. "You still have that
husband of yours off sex?"

"Uh-umm," I nodded.

"Has he been playing with himself?"

"I don't think so."

"When was the last time you think he went over ten days without
getting any."

I laughed, "I don't know, third grade?"

"Do you still want to get eaten out?"

"After my own abstinence -- more than ever!"

"OK. So, here's what you do..."

-=o=-

When Jason came home from work that night, I met him at the door
in one of my sexier dresses. This was a far cry from the shirts,
jeans and sneakers I normally kept house in! I greeted him with a
long passionate kiss, and I could feel his cock spring to life
even though his pants.

I led him over to the couch where I had previously poured out a
glass of wine for each of us, and sat there leaning towards him,
legs crossed towards him, twirling a lock of my hair with a
finger. Even this slight teasing got me excited.

"Tell me about your day, dear." I asked him.

He stammered on about some of the mundane office goings-on and
how the traffic was on the freeway. I didn't really listen. I
just looked him in the eye, and licked my lips. Every bit of my
body was broadcasting, "Take me, I'm hot!"

When he finally wound down, I asked him, "What were you doing in
the bathroom the other day?" He blushed immediately and started
stammering again.

"Do you like playing with yourself?"

"No."

"Don't lie to me, boy!" I yelled at him, surprising even myself.

"Well, er, yes."

"What do think about when you're doing it?" Debbie told me all
the questions to ask.

"I think about having sex", my husband said, and then added
hastily, "with you."

"Mmmm," I mused, "Tell me more, what are we doing in this fantasy
of yours?"

I made him explain all of his thoughts to me graphically. He was
getting hornier and hornier by the minute as he relived the
experience. Debbie told me that making him admit his fantasies
would break him down.

I had to admit, I was getting hot myself. Unlike my husband,
however, I was able to keep under control.

When I had heard enough, I announced, "I bet you want to get it
off now, don't you." He nodded his head vigorously.

"Come, let's go to the bedroom." He was on my heels like a puppy.

I sat on the bed and said, "Take off your clothes. Slowly! I want
you to put on a show for me."

He obliged, getting even redder than before. He was clearly in
the grip of severe embarrassment. How I was going to love this!

Once he was completely naked in front of me he asked, "What about
you, aren't you going to get undressed?"

"Not just yet," I informed him, "Turn around. I want to see all
of you".

His eyes brightened when I stood up and dropped my dress to
reveal my slip and stockings. I lifted my leg just high enough to
show him that I wasn't wearing panties underneath, and that I was
wearing my garter belt.

His cock was rigid and throbbing by this time.

"Before I allow you to come," (how nice that word - allow -
sounded), "You'll have to do a few things for me. You do want to
be allowed to come eventually, don't you?"

Once again, the vigorous nod.

"OK, then. Kneel down in front of me and bow your head." He did
as he was told, and I threw my slip over his head. Using my
hands, I guided it to where I wanted it.

"You know what to do." I told him.

"But honey," came the muffled reply.

"No but honey's tonight," I sternly told him, `You've had your
sex fun, now it's time for me to have mine. If you don't put your
tongue in there, you'll never put anything else in there either.
Now LICK!" Guilt! It worked just like Debbie said it would.

Jason started licking me, although with less relish than I'd
like. Debbie suggested that I punish inferior performance but
Jason's reaction was enough. He obviously thought that oral sex
was a disgusting prospect (He didn't even ask me to perform it on
him). The idea that I was making him do something he absolutely
detested made up for his actual lack of physical stimulation.

As I felt his tongue in my pussy for the first time, I thought,
"a game played mostly in the head," is that how Debbie put it?
Power, yes, I liked it. I came, and I came hard. I liked it, and
I almost lost control.

By the time I let Jason up for air, his face was covered with my
juices. I smiled down at him, not so much from the humorous look
of the slick juices on his face, but from the knowledge of what I
had done to him, and what I had made him do, and where all of
this would eventually lead.

-=o=-

"Now, get dressed," I ordered him. "You're taking me out to
dinner." I allowed him a quick shower while I changed my slip and
got back into my dress.

All through dinner, I kept sending him the come-on signals. I had
no doubt that Jason thought his punishment was over. Little did
he know it was just beginning!

By the time we got home, Jason was all over me. I put on my
sexiest nightgown kissed him deeply, and rubbed my body against
his. If I had let him in me just then, he would have shot his
load on the first stroke.

I rolled away from him, smiled at him over my shoulder, said,
"Good night," and turned off the light.

"Aren't we going to make love?" he asked.

"Why don't you make love to your hand? You seem to like it
better."

"It's not like that," he insisted.

"I don't care what it's like. I'll tell you this. You touch
yourself again, and I won't have anything to do with you. Think
about it, your hand or me. I think I'm worth giving up your hobby
for."

"OK, dear. I promise. I won't play with myself again."

"That's not good enough," I was on a roll, and I wasn't going to
stop, "I want it in writing."

"What!"

"In writing," I said more emphatically, turning the light back
on. "Get over to that desk and take dictation." I bit off each
word crisply. "There's going to be some changes for the better
around here. Better for me, that is."

He got up and sat at the desk.

I improvised as I went along, "I, Jason, promise my wife, Anne,
total fidelity." Jason's pen made the appropriate scratches. "I
will not look at another woman. I will not go out with the boys
unless she lets me. I will stop masturbating as of this very
moment and I will not touch myself without Anne's permission.
>From now on, Anne is in charge of my sex life."

"Now wait a minute," he interrupted.

"Keep writing," I overruled.

"From now on, Anne is in charge of my sex life. She will decide
when and if I've earned an orgasm. I will make it my priority to
make sure her pleasure comes first. I will do whatever she tells
me to do, and if she is not satisfied with my performance, she
has the right to punish me and withhold sex from me. I promise
all these things on blah blah blah -- OK, just date it and sign
it."

Not very eloquent, but to the point nonetheless.

He finished his task and I inspected the results. I nodded slowly
and grinned sexily. "You can start tomorrow. It's Saturday, and I
want breakfast in bed. Then I have some chores for you to do."

He raised his finger to object until I waved the paper in front
of his face. "Don't push it, bub! You're not getting any tonight.
Misbehave, and you won't get any for a long time. Now kiss me
like a good **********, turn off the light and go to sleep."

I can't believe it. I just lectured him like an errant 9-year
old, and he accepted it! Debbie was right again, a couple of
balls full of semen will make a man do just about anything for
the mere promise of relief. I slept like a baby thinking of the
new phase of life Jason and I had just started.

-=o=-

I woke up to the smell of fresh brewed coffee. There stood Jason
in his bathrobe with a tray containing my breakfast. "Put the
tray here," I said, indicating my lap, "and drop the robe from
now on whenever you are with me in this room, you will wear no
clothes except what I order you to wear. Do you understand?"

"Yes, dear."

"That's another thing. No more of this `dear' and `honey' stuff.
>From now on I'm `Mistress' in private, and "Madam" in public. Do
you get that?"

"Yes, Mistress."

This was going better than expected. Debbie told me that it would
take several `training sessions' before Jason would be calling me
"Mistress".

I made Jason stand there and watch me eat. I kept stealing peeks
at his penis noting how big and hard it was. He was accepting
this. He was even getting off on it. I noted inwardly, "Yes, this
is going to work out after all." I took my time and enjoyed my
breakfast. When I was done, I made sure Jason got his. I made him
eat me out again, change the bed linens and start the laundry
while I got dressed. It was a nice day so I threw on a blouse,
shorts, and sneakers and said as I sauntered by my husband, "I'm
going over to Debbie's. There's a list of things to do in the
kitchen. I'll be back this afternoon, and this place better look
spotless."

--
Mule


------=_NextPart_000_01BC4199.686FF260
Content-Type: application/octet-stream; name="djason#3.txt"
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit
Content-Description: djason#3.txt (Text Document)
Content-Disposition: attachment; filename="djason#3.txt"




Domination of Jason
Chapter 3

I couldn't wait to get to Debbie's to tell her how it went. I
relayed every little detail, and even showed her the note I made
Jason write.

"Great going, girl." she congratulated, "You're a natural.
Judging by how quickly Jason is coming around, I'd say, so is he.
I think I better hang onto this paper just for safety sake. We
can make a copy of it in the library and give that copy to Jason
just to let him know you're serious."

"Now what?" I asked. "I'm really enjoying this. How far can I
take it?"

"As far as you want, but not all at once."

"Do you think that I should let Jason come when I get home?"

"That would probably be the smart thing to do. You have to reward
them every now and then. Right now, I bet Jason's building up
resentment towards you as he's doing his chores. Eventually he'll
come to accept all of this as an elaborate type of foreplay, but
he's not there yet."

"Jason is in phase one of his training. He's behaving himself in
what I like to call a `bartering situation' - that is, he is
willing to trade specific periods of servitude for specific acts
of sexual release. By rewarding him at just the right times, you
can make him accept it as a way of life."

"Right now, Jason's just a `play slave'. He's willing to be
submissive totally on his terms: doing only those things he
wants, for as long as he wants to do them, with an expectation of
a near-term, somewhat equitable return. You've got to change
that if you're going to do this `for real'. Progress will be slow
in the beginning, but eventually you will be able to gain total
control over him. Are you willing"?

I wasn't sure, but I said, "Yes." "How do I start? I don't know
what to do. I don't even know what some of the things in those
books you lent me are".

"Don't worry, Anne," Debbie assured me, "I'll show you what to
do".

I protested, "You? Wait a minute. I mean, I'm not into group sex,
and neither is Jason".

Janice laughed, "This isn't really about sex. It's about power.
Anyway. I'll respect your wishes for the moment. I'll be your
silent partner."

"But don't think of it as group sex, Anne. One of my favorite
games as a *********** was to get a boy to make pee for me while
I watched. Didn't you ever do that?"

"Well, yes, I mean, what girl hasn't."

"And I bet you had one of your girlfriends with you".

"Not one but two," I laughed.

"Did you feel that when you did it, you were having group sex"?

"Of course not. We already knew what **********s looked like. It
wasn't really sex at all".

"What was the most fun part of it?"

"We told the boy what we wanted him to do and he did it."

"Exactly, this isn't any different. It always amazes me how
eight-year old girls are naturals when it comes to domination,
but somehow lose it as they get older. Somehow the sex thing gets
in the way. Sex is only one part of it."

"One of the things you'll learn about female domination is that
it's best enjoyed if there are other women to share the thrill
with you. It's a spectator sport as well as a `team' sport. I
learned that lesson early. When I made these boys pee for me, I
always brought other girls along."

I knew eventually that Jason and I would be getting advanced
hands-on training from Debbie.

"But, I really afraid of hurting Jason.", I protested.

"I think you're getting S&M mixed up with B&D or D&S."

"What? I can't get all this stuff straight I mean, even the
personal ads in the newspaper throw me with all those
abbreviations".

Debbie continued. "OK. S&M - Sado Masochism involves inflicting
pain and receiving pain. B&D - Bondage and Discipline. That's
actually two things: Bondage -- tying Jason up, and Discipline --
making Jason behave. Discipline is the fun part for me. D&S -
Dominance and Submission. As long as I'm the `D' and he's the `S'
I'm OK. I like humiliating a man. Sometimes you can use bondage
and sadism to help with the discipline. but you don't have to."

"All of this is really just one more dimension of your sexual
relationship. You do what works best for both of you. Your
objective is to turn Jason on so much that he willingly submits
to anything you want. Push too hard, and you'll drive him away.
Do too much, and you may turn yourself off."

"So, you don't have to hurt Jason. Some men like that kind of
stuff, but most of them just want to be told what to do and obey.
If inflicting pain squicks you, then don't do it. You may find,
however, that both of your appetites may change as you explore
your sexualities more fully. Keep an open mind."

I was willing to listen to more, but I still had more questions.
"What about special equipment? I mean, if I tried to do some of
the stuff in some of the books I read, I'd have to build a
medieval dungeon. That's kind of hard to hide from the neighbors
when they come over."

"You don't have to go `all the way'. Besides, you can disguise
your fixings to look like every day objects. In fact, you can
even use every day objects. Let's take a walk around your house
later today and see what you've got. You are limited only by your
imagination."

-=o=-

As Debbie and I got up to leave I remembered to ask, "Wait a
minute. You suggested I let Jason come. I wouldn't mind another
licking, but I don't feel like intercourse just now."

"So don't do it. There are a lot of other ways to make a man
come."

"What are you suggesting?" I asked.

"Well, you could give him a handjob. This way, you'll be in
control."

"But what about the mess?"

"Well, if you're squeamish about getting your hands messy, do
what I do. Wear gloves." Before I could ask the question, she
went on, "I have some rubber surgical gloves I can let you have.
They're really cheap by the box."

Debbie explained one of her well learned methods of slow
masturbation. "It's best if you immobilize Jason when you do
this. After a while, it gets too intense for the male, and he
tries to take over. Besides, bondage will become part of the game
soon enough."

-=o=-

Jason was just putting away the vacuum when I came in. The house
was in good shape. I could hear both the washer and drier going
as well as the dishwasher. The floor in the kitchen was still
wet.

Debbie and I smiled at each other knowingly. I wasn't going to
let Jason in on the fact that Debbie knew of our special
arrangement.

I smiled at my husband and said, "Honey, why don't you take a
break. I have a list of things I want you to get from the store.
Why don't you go now." I was pleased when I noted his response,
"Yes, madam."

As soon as he left, Debbie and I began our tour.

"I guess the best place to start is in the bedroom", I said as I
motioned Debbie to follow me. "Many of the articles talk about
tying people up on a 4 poster bed. As you can see, my bed isn't
like that."

Debbie got on all fours and looked under the bed. "Who said that
the tie points have to be above the bed? You have 4 legs, use
them. In fact, its better that way, since you can leave the
ropes, or whatever you use, attached and simply tuck them under
the mattress when your not using them. I also suggest you get
some sort of means to restrict Jason's mid section. You can tie a
rope around one of the cross boards for that."

"What a nice chair!", Debbie commented, moving to the other side
if the bedroom. "Make Jason stand behind the chair and bend over
the back and place his hands on the arm rests. Then tie his
wrists to the arms. This will put his ass up in the air where you
can get at it for spankings and other games. But be careful. I'd
d**** a towel over the back if I were you. Men have been known to
come while being punished."

"Now, here in the kitchen," she said as she continued our tour,
"you can have Jason stand with his butt against this counter
while you pull his arms behind him, and tie them together at the
wrists. Now, go around the other side of the counter and tie the
other end of the rope to this cabinet door handle. That will have
him on his toes, and have his mid section and penis thrust
forward for you to play with. If you want to add finishing touch,
you can tie his ankles to the lower drawer handle on his side".

Debbie had similar suggestions as we went through the house, but
when she got to the laundry room, she exclaimed, "Oh, this is
great! You have no idea what a gold mine you have here. Look at
this."

The `this' she was referring to was a clothes rack my husband had
built. It was nothing more than two expansion bolts in the
ceiling with eye rings screwed in. Hanging from the eye rings
were "S" hooks. Suspended from the "S" hooks was a four foot
dowel which was attached by two eye bolts screwed through holds
drilled close to each end.

To me, it was just somewhere to hang Jason's shirts while ironing
them. To Debbie's "educated" eye, it was something else. She
explained, "Take the bar down and put it on the floor. Take a
loop of rope or something and tie them on Jason's wrists. Hook
Jason up to the ceiling by slipping the loop over the "S" hook.
And now, for the best part", she grinned, "make him put his feet
apart and tie them at the ankle to each of the eye bolts in the
dowel. You've got him spread eagle and standing. There's a lot
you can do to a man when you got him in that position."

By the time she was done, I had a dozen places to tie my husband
up including, a coffee table, some chairs of various design,
towel racks, the shower (she said that giving a man a cold shower
wasn't harmful, but could be very uncomfortable for the man and
quite amusing for the woman to watch). She even pointed out a
traditional "stake" otherwise disguised as the support pole in
the garage. Boy, was Jason in for a surprise when he got home.

By this time Debbie had finished putting these "interior
decorating" ideas into my head, Jason was pulling in the
driveway. She gave me a quick kiss on my cheek and said, "I'll
leave you two love birds alone now. Good luck and go get `em."

Jason came in. I complemented him, "It looks like you've been a
good boy, the house looks great. I'll inspect later. Put those
groceries away and you'll get your reward." I retired with my tea
to the living room to relax as I listened to Jason clattering
about the kitchen putting things away.

In a couple of minutes, Jason was done and stepped into the
living room. "I'm ready, dear," he said.

I glared at him. All of a sudden he realized his mistake. "I'm
ready MISTRESS!" he exclaimed. "Please, I'm sorry. I'll get used
to this. Just let me come. I'll do anything you say."

This was more like it.

"Come, let's go to the laundry room, it's time to let you ejaculate."

You'd think I just said that we won the lottery. He was capering
around like a puppy that was left alone all day when its mistress
comes home.

"OK, it's time to strip again," I told him.

As soon as I had him naked, I remodeled the washroom like Debbie
showed me.

I had him take the dowel down, and run a short length of rope
through each eye bolt. I made him tie each of his ankles to the
dowel. Then I told him to stand up while I got the stool and
started to tie each wrist to the eyebolts in the ceiling.

He wanted to object, but I reminded him, "Remember the paper you
signed that night? We do this my way." I, a mere 5 foot 4 inch
110 pound brunette had my 6 foot 2 inch 210 pound husband,
vertically "spread eagled" in the classical anatomic position.
Both his arms and legs were spread almost three feet apart.

I grabbed his cock, looked him in the eye and said, "You're going
to learn to like this. You've been a bad ********** playing with
your `pee pee'. What would your mom had said if she caught you
doing that? From now on I am the law in this house. I make all
the rules and you obey them." I gave his cock a squeeze and he
meekly submitted.

It was delicious looking at him tied up that way, and totally in
my control. I took out my gloves, smoothed them over my skin and
went to work on his organ. My gloves were well lubricated with
his precome from the moment I touched him.

I put the tip of my index finger in the slit of his pee hole and
gave it a gentle twist. His body tensed. I ran the very tip of my
latex encased finger up and down the slit and watched him squirm.

Then I put my first two fingers under the head of his prick and
my thumbs on top. I squeezed down with my thumbs and pumped it a
few times. This forced a drop or two more precome to ooze out. I
ran one thumb over his pee hole, and then the other.

Using the fingers under his shaft to stimulate the lower portion
of the head, I massaged the top with my thumbs. I coordinated my
stroking so that as I rubbed down with my thumbs, I was rubbing
out with my fingers. Likewise, as I was pushing in with my
fingers, I was running my thumb back towards the read or the
head.

Debbie called this "milking the dick", and it was easier than she
described it to me. Jason was squirming uncontrollably and trying
to thrust his hips to increase the friction. Debbie warned me
about that, so I just l stopped every time I caught him doing it.
"This is my show." I told him. "You just provide that horny prick
of yours. I'm in charge of everything else." Eventually he
learned to do it my way.

I milked him for about 15 minutes of slow masturbation before I
let him come. He shot his load like a rocket! I tried to catch
his semen in my palms as it came spurting out. Jason lost his
balance. He was hanging from his ceiling restraints.

He finally stopped pumping. I took the two handsful of come and
smeared it over his chest.

"Yes, dear," I smiled, "There are definitely going to be some
changes for the better around here."
--


------=_NextPart_000_01BC4199.686FF260
Content-Type: application/octet-stream; name="djason#4.txt"
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit
Content-Description: djason#4.txt (Text Document)
Content-Disposition: attachment; filename="djason#4.txt"



Domination of Jason
Chapter 4

Jason was the perfect husband after we redefined our roles. He
gave head like and expert any time I wanted it, and I suspected
that he was even beginning to like it. I never washed a dish,
picked up a mop, or touched at piece of dirty laundry again. The
services were great. The advantages of female control were
obvious.

Yet I wanted more. I wasn't quite sure what it was, but I wanted
even more control over Jason. Debbie warned me that domination
was addictive and a little bit wasn't enough. It was time to
learn more.

Once more I confided in Debbie. She asked me, "So, how is it
going."

"I'm making good use of your suggestions. I've tied Jason up in
several locations around the house. But, I think I'm ready to
learn more now."

"Well, what have you been doing with him?" she asked.

"Just masturbation like you suggested."

"Do you use anything on him?"

"Just the gloves. What do you suggest?" I asked.

"You got to get yourself some hardware, girl."

"I was wondering about that myself. I mean, I can't keep a whip
around, and I wouldn't want to use it, and I wouldn't know how to
use it if I did", I rambled.

"You won't need it.", she laughed. "Discipline is a part of the
scene, but it doesn't need to be that severe. You will may even
have to spank him from time to time, frequently, if you must".

I protested, "I told you, I don't want to hurt Jason."

"Spanking isn't necessarily a painful punishment." she countered.
"It's more of a humiliation thing. OK, I won't force you.
Obviously you and Jason aren't ready for that part yet. Mark my
words, though. The day will come when you'll spank Jason and find
it enjoyable."

"We'll find some standard items that you can use to discipline
him. None of them are harmful at all. All of them are merely
symbols of your dominance over him."

"First of all, keep him naked at all times. As Mark Twain once
observed, `Clothes make the man. Naked people have little or no
influence in society.' Taking his clothes from him makes him feel
more vulnerable. They limit his mobility severely. After all,
he's not likely to leave the house without them. If you can
figure out how to lock up his clothes, so much the better. You've
taken away some of his freedom of movement without doing anything
at all."

"Take away his power of speech as well. Gags are easy. All you
have to do is ball up one pair of your panties and put them in
his mouth. Then you can put another pair over his mouth and
fasten them at the back of his head with a safety pin. Make sure
that he can breathe easily. In fact, you should agree on some
sort of signal Jason can give you even when gagged or bound so he
can call off the action in case something goes wrong. You don't
really want to damage him physically or psychologically. If he
calls you off too often, or for trivial reasons, stop playing.
He'll come back eventually."

"Take away his sense of sight and sound. Scarves make excellent
blindfolds. Put a set of headphones on him and turn up the
volume. I did this in college once. I blindfolded, gagged and put
the earphones on one of my lovers. I had him kneel at attention
for a while, and then touched him on the shoulder as a
pre-arranged signal to play with himself. When he got to the
moment of truth, I pulled off his blindfold so he could see that
during his wait I had invited some of my sorority sisters in to
watch. No harm, no hurt, but plenty of humiliation."

"I did the reverse with one of my coworkers on a previous job. I
prepared him in just the same way as my hapless college student,
except that after having him wait awhile, I switched the headset
into an amplifier so we could talk to him over a microphone. My
roomate and I took turns touching him. The kicker was that I had
recorded other women's voices, mixed them in with my
conversation, and played them back through the amplifier as
background noise. I made the recording at a bridal shower for one
of our coworkers. It certainly seemed that there were a number of
women in the room with us having a good time. I had him convinced
that the room was full of women and that these were women that he
saw every day. I'm sure some of the voices were familiar to him.
To this day, he has no idea which of the many women he works
with, or comes in contact with on a daily basis know of his
submissive nature. A tremendous mind game."

"You can take away even more of his mobility. There are literally
all kinds of fasteners, but ordinary clothes line will work for
most applications. You can also use bungee chords as quick
`temporary' restraints. Put them around his knees or his upper
arms behind his back. People might raise an eyebrow if you keep
chains and padlocks in the bedroom, but wrap them around your
bicycle in the garage and no one asks any questions."

"You will, of course, need to get a leash and collar for his
neck. It's only a symbolic bond, but those are really the best
kind."

"Now for the hard part. Once you've got him tied up, you've got
to do something with him. Most men have some sort of a fetish. I
try to make the fetish do the work for me. Fetishes are something
else we women don't seem to experience the same way men do. We
may like the way something looks or feels on us, and this may
make sex more enjoyable, but the objects themselves don't turn us
on. It's what we do when we wear the object, or how the object
affects men that's the real turn-on.

For men, the object itself has sexual connotations and I'm not
above using every advantage, fair or unfair to assert control.
Being a dominatrix is no fun if you have to work hard at it. Does
Jason have anything that he's particularly fond of?"

"Like what?", I asked.

"Well, there are things, you know: shoes, boots, handbags.
There's body parts, feet, ass, tits. And then there's materials
like leather, rubber, silky stuff. Does Jason get turned on by
any of this?"

"I know he likes when I wear sexy lingerie."

"Good, then wear it. Making him wear it might excite him too. Try
it and see what happens. It's `forbidden' nature might appeal to
him. I have a tall girl's catalogue. I can help you order stuff
for him. Anything else?"

"I don't know. He never told me anything", I said.

"Eventually, he'll tell you all of his fantasies. Right now,
we'll have to work at it. Tell you what. I have some more books.
What you do is make him strip for you and read them aloud. Watch
his penis. Keep a note of what he was reading every time it gets
hard. Then we'll get together and see what turns him on".

"It all sounds so scientific.", I responded.

"When it comes to men, there isn't much guesswork. They're so
easy to figure out. A man's cock will give him away every time."

I noticed that the new reading material hardly touched the
dominance / submission theme, and I explained this to Debbie.

She said, "I call this my fetish collection. I keep it around to
get some ideas, and let some of my lovers read it to see what
turns them on. It tells about men and women doing stuff using
toys. You want to stay away from the other stuff, since you don't
want the description of the activity to interfere with Jason's
reaction to what's being used as a toy."

-=o=-

That night, I put Jason to the test. I explained the experiment
to him: "I want to try something out tonight. I want you to read
some pornography to me, and tell me which articles turn you on,
and why." He was about to protest when I said, "That's no way to
talk to your mistress. Now get undressed and read to me."

"Where did you get this stuff?" he asked.

I responded, "That's none of your business. All that matters is
that I did get them, and you will read them to me."

I propped up his pillows and gave him a drink, and had him lay on
his back on the bed and read. I watched for the rising and
falling of his erection, and listened to what he thought turned
him on.

I got together with Debbie the next day, and pointed out the
articles Jason said excited him, and the ones where I noticed he
got particularly hard.

She was quick to analyze the results. "Jason has a foot fetish,
and rubber fetish. You lucky girl! Rubber is cheap, and it's so
easy to clean. It's so easy to use too. Taking care of a rubber
lover is hardly a chore at all. There's so many things to do to
tease him and make him come." She went on breathlessly.

"Whoa, girl", I exclaimed, "slow down. I'm not going to get into
a rubber suit just to get my husband going."

"You're not listening to me. It's just like the other equipment
you have. You probably have most of what you need right here."

"Yeah right!", I said.

"I don't suppose you are aware that you are wearing rubber at
this very moment".

"I am? What? My bra?"

"No, it's literally at your feet."

"Sneakers?"

"Sneakers!", she exclaimed, "The soles are rubber. You're even
wearing the right kind. Keds and sneakers like Keds work very
well."

"How?", I asked, "Nothing in the books talk about sneakers."

"Use a little imagination!", she admonished, "This was an
invention of mine. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure
out that if a guy likes rubber, and he likes women's feet, then
rubber on a woman's foot is something he'd also like".

"OK, you've got me convinced. It's just that I don't think about
rubber very much. I know some of the books mention rubber gloves
and bathing caps. I suppose you're going to add them to my list".

"Them, and something else very basic -- a rubber ball."

"Debbie! Now I know that I didn't read that one in a book, and
don't tell me how logical it is."

"Well, it is logical. If rubber's the thing, then you experiment
rubbing his penis with anything made of rubber -- even bicycle
inner tubes. In fact, a rubber ball is an extremely powerful
discipline device."

"I don't believe it. I don't see how you can use a toy to
discipline anyone."

"Compared to other rubber objects, a rubber ball is easier to
manipulate. It has a very distinct, almost velvety texture to it.
You'll be surprised how fast you can cause an erection with one,
and how you can use it to bring Jason to the edge of orgasm
without actually letting him come. Don't knock it. This `toy'
works very well."

"OK, you win, Debbie. You know, I do have most of the stuff you
mentioned. I have a whole closet bottom and under-bed area full
of sneakers. I have rubber gloves, although I better get a pair
specifically for this use and not use the ones I use -- I mean,
from now on Jason uses -- to clean the oven. Jason's a
racquetball fan, I can get him to pick some up at the sporting
goods store. I better have him pick up a bathing cap while he's
there. too."

"Atta girl! You're beginning to get into this. Complete your
collection, and I'll tell you how to use them", Debbie said.

"You better," I laughed. I can't begin to imagine how you could
use some of this stuff."
--


------=_NextPart_000_01BC4199.686FF260
Content-Type: application/octet-stream; name="djason#5.txt"
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit
Content-Description: djason#5.txt (Text Document)
Content-Disposition: attachment; filename="djason#5.txt"



Domination of Jason
Chapter 5

That weekend, I was over Debbie's house with an overnight bag
full of rubber items. Before getting into my things, Debbie gave
me a tour of her house and how she had arranged things. In her
kitchen, for example, was a butcher block which she had
redesigned into a punishment block. She took down some paintings
to reveal tie-down points. She even showed me how she could rig
up a block and tackle to suspend someone from the ceiling. Before
we left her playroom, she showed me her `toybox.' She grabbed a
dildo out of it, and we continued back to the kitchen.

When we got back into the kitchen for our tea, she handed me an
object, the function of which I could hardly imagine. "Before we
begin, I'd like to give you a little gift."

I giggled, "OK, Debbie, what's this, a dog leash for gerbils?"

"Good guess!" she laughed. "It's a cock ring." She then went on
to explain how to put it on, and how it would `accentuate' his
erection and balls. "And when you're done, you can attach a leash
on this ring. You can then lead Jason around by his penis. It's
sort of a physical symbolism -- women have been leading men
around by their cocks since the beginning of time. As I always
say, `Control the cock, control the boy.' I have a lot of other
`toys' which I'll show you at some other time."

"Speaking of controlling cocks," I interjected, "you haven't even
shown me how to use the stuff I got yet."

"Exactly, show me what you've got!"

I emptied the contents of my overnight bag onto her table.

"The thing you want to do with this stuff is to drive Jason into
lust, and then dispair. Show him you control his sexual pleasure
at your whim. Best of all, all of this is so mechanical on your
part. You can be a 'tease machine' with almost no effort at
all."

"OK," Debbie said, "let's start with the bathing caps. It doesn't
take too much imagination to figure out what to do with a bathing
cap. Does it?"

"No, I imagine you simply put it over his cock and rub it up.", I
said.

"Did you ever actually do that with a man?"

"Well (pause) no.", I stammered. "But how hard can it be?"

"You can make it very hard," she said, laughing at her own pun.
"But seriously, you really have to be careful not to hurt the
penis. If the cap has a rough interior, you will have to rub
gently, especially at the start."

"Why at the start?"

"Well, the rubber is going to grab at his penis. This is a good
thing. It tickles it into a tremendous hard-on. Once he starts
leaking precome, it's a whole different experience. Just a drop
or two will have his prick sliding around all over the inside of
the cap."

"I'd demonstrate with the toy," she said, tapping the dildo with
her finger, "but it's not fully functional in this regard."

"Once you get him to lubricate your toy with his, you can get
more aggressive. Don't just rub in the same spots. Try to use his
prick to spread the semen over every square inch of the inside of
the cap. Use the cap to spread his precome over every bit of his
cock."

"Stretch the cap tightly over his prick like you are trying to
poke it through the cap. Don't do it too hard. You don't want to
hurt him, but you'd be surprised how hard and firm erections can
get. He'll just love the feel of the expanding rubber over his
cock. Another nice things about bathing caps is that you can
measure how much he squirts. That's one way to tell if he's been
cheating on you."

"OK", I nodded.

"Also be sure", Debbie continued, "that you avoid caps with sharp
seams. I try not to buy them at all. If I have to, then I turn
the cap inside out, put it over a block of wood, and sand away
the ridge with sandpaper. Generally, I just use my trusty old
Speedos. I can really feel the prick through the latex."

"Jason picked up one for me at the sports shop." I said, picking
it up still in the package. "I also found the cap I bought for
our vacation in Mexico last year. Can I use it?" I picked it out
of the pile for her inspection. It was a very feminine looking
cap with leaves and petals and flowers all over the outside.

"This is great, girl. This," she said, shaking the cap in her
hand, "is a great erection holder. Get rid of this chin strap.
Instead, make a couple of daisy chains out of rubber bands and
loop them into the snaps. Turn the cap inside out, and place it
over Jason's cock and balls. Put the rubber band chains around
his legs, and snap them to the cap.

"What this does is wrap his penis completely in rubber. When he
gets excited, his penis will twitch. When it twitches, it rubs
itself into the rubbery folds. This excites it some more, and
causes it to twitch again. It will keep Jason hard for as long as
you want with absolutely no work on your part. You can put him
`in the bag' for hours, and he'll still have a beautifully hard
cock for you to play with."

"I suggest you dress Jason up like this when you have him clean
the bathroom or perform his other household chores. He'll get
enough movement in the cap to stroke his penis into a good
erection, but the stimulation won't be enough to make him come.
He'll be ready to beg you for relief when he gets done."

"An important part of training men is to keep them in a state of
constant sexual excitement. In addition to using bathing caps to
keep Jason at a high level of arousal, you can use it to make him
bring himself to and sustain an intense level of arousal. To make
Jason masturbate to the point of ejaculation without coming, have
him coat he cap with his precome. He'll have to stimulate himself
enough to produce precome, but stop short of actually
ejaculating. You don't even have to supervise him. Just have him
show you a cap where he has spread his clear, glistening precome
over every square inch."

I swallowed my tea. I had never considered the possibilities. The
thought of ordering Jason to maintain a state of perpetual
anticipation to please me was really turning me on.

-=o=-

I sat there in silence digesting what I just heard. "OK, what
about the other items?" I asked.

"I'll start with the sneakers since they are so easy to use. I
use sneakers as sort of a reward. Rather than make a man mad with
the urge for sexual release, they actually provide it. What's
nice about it, is that the woman controls it."

"So, sneakers are one way to provide the pleasure you need to
give them from time to time to enslave the male. They don't
produce pain, unless of course, you use them as a paddle to spank
him." She laughed.

"You could just throw your sneakers on the floor and let Jason
hump the soles. I've done that when I'm too lazy to reward my
charges. However, I usually like to get a lot more involved."

"I call the first method the `book' method." She slipped off her
sneakers and demonstrated. "Hold them together by the back part
sole-to-sole, with the heels towards you and the insides --
that's part that's between your legs when you wear them -- up,
like this. While you have them this way, you can use them to
`tickle him up.' That is, if he doesn't have an erection, you can
give him one."

"Here, pretend the dildo is Jason's cock. Hold it out." I held it
out, and she moved her sneakers towards it.

"Put the heels under the head of his cock and pull back slowly,
letting his prick ride down into the valley at the arch, and back
up the hill towards the toes -- every bit of it bouncing and
rubbing its way along the herringbone patterns on the outsole. In
just a couple of passes, you'll have him as hard and straight as
a steel rod."

She was right. I could feel the vibrations in the rubber cock as
she slid her sneakers under it.

"Now, if you open the top like a book, you form a `V.' Let his
cock fall into the `V.' You can play with how wide you open the
book so as to make the rubber touch his cock looser or tighter."

She adjusted the sneakers and the dildo fell into the crack so
the penis was resting on the 'hinge' at the spine of the book.
She indicated the area that corresponded to the ball of her foot
and she called it the 'working rubber' explaining that it was the
part of the sneaker where masturbation takes place.

"You can let him hump the soles, or you can bind him, and provide
all the rubbing yourself. Just move the sneakers back and forth
letting his cock slide along the sole like a piston."

I noticed how she opened the book slightly on the push stroke so
the penis could slide forward freely, and closed it slightly on
the pull stroke so the working rubber grabbed at the penis head.

She handed over the sneakers and took the cock. "Now you try it."
She gave me a couple of minutes of practice and coaching. "Atta
girl, you got it. You'll love it. You'll have a perfect view of
Jason's penis when he comes."

-=o=-

We put the water on for another cup of tea.

"I like to call the next technique the `total control method'
because the man's ejaculation is entirely under the control of
the woman. To do it, you want to make a `penis sandwich' with
your sneakers. Here, hold out that dildo again."

She held one of her sneakers at the end uppers up, and her other
sneaker at the end, soles up. She held them so that they were
pointing to each other toe to toe. She nodded at me, and I picked
up the dildo, ready to play the role of the hapless male.

"Put one sneaker under the head of his penis, sole up, and the
other one on top of it with the sole resting just behind the
head."

"The next part takes some practice. Use the top sneaker to move
the penis in a side-to-side motion, while rubbing it with the
bottom sneaker along the shaft in a girl-to-boy motion. The net
result is a circular motion which no penis can resist. You
control the pressure. You control the tempo. The man does
absolutely nothing at all. Once you get the hang of it, it's so
easy and quick. You'll have him coming in less than a minute, and
at exactly the moment you want."

Again, I was given the opportunity to practice. I couldn't wait
to try it on Jason. "It gets better once Jason provides some
biologically induced lubrication for you." Debbie advised.

-=o=-

"The final sneakering technique I call `walking the dog.' In this
one, you use your feet instead of your hands. Just wear your
sneakers as you normally do, and have Jason sit on a chair facing
you with his legs wide open. Put your feet in his crotch with
your heels against his balls."

"You seem to have a normal size foot for a woman, and if Jason is
average size, the head of his penis will be at the balls of your
feet. Simply peddle his cock from foot to foot. You'll literally
have him coming at your feet!"

"You can also use sneakers for intense anticipation training. Let
him play with himself. Give him run of your closet. Tell him you
want him to coat every sole of every sneaker with precome. Don't
give him permission to ejaculate. It will keep him busy for hours
while you can attend to something more relaxing. In fact, he may
never complete the task. If you have enough sneakers, the first
pair will be dry before he finishes the last."

"Another nice thing about sneakers is that they are everywhere.
Do you think that after you start sneakering Jason that he will
ever be able to look at you or any other woman wearing a pair,
and not get a hard on? Think of it -- the secretaries in his
office on 'casual day.' a housewife in the supermarket, a teenage
girl going to school, even ***********s playing in the park are
going to remind him of this part of his sexual servitude."

"The one thing you didn't get in our practice demonstrations
here," Debbie cautioned, "is lubrication. Even a dry penis has
less friction than the rubber-to-rubber contact between the dildo
and the soles of the sneakers. You'll learn how to play with
varying pressures during the very first session, I'm sure."

-=o=-

"OK, that leaves the rubber ball." I said, refilling my tea.

"The ball takes special care. Bathing caps provide erections,
sneakers get him off. A rubber ball, if used properly will drive
him crazy. It's very effective, but it is very woman-intensive.
You'll have to put a lot of work into this one, but it's worth
it."

"To do it properly, you'll need to understand a little of the
anatomy of the male reproductive system."

"The two parts of the penis you are interested in are on opposite
ends. At the very base of the penis, where the scrotum is
attached, is a sphincter-like muscle that holds back urine, and
also holds back semen just prior to the ejaculation. I suggest
you experiment with Jason and find out exactly where this muscle
is. It's the key to penis control. Massaging this muscle will
cause ejaculation if the penis is aroused enough. However, we
want to use it for exactly the opposite purpose."

"Just before ejaculation, this muscle tightens in anticipation.
The amount of tightness and just how it will feel to you varies
from man to man. In other words, you'll have to figure out for
yourself, using repeated experimentation, what Jason's 'flash
point' is. Don't be discouraged if you don't get it right on the
first couple of tries."

Grab Jason's penis with your left hand. Make a tight ring with
your thumb and middle finger. This will trap more blood in the
organ and make it firmer and more sensitive. Take your index
finger and place it on the muscle. This is your feedback
mechanism so you will know when you are getting him close to
ejaculation."

"The other end of the penis is the head. As you look at it
straight-on you'll see a pair of 'cheeks' at the 5- and 7-o'clock
positions. This is where you want to work the ball."

"There are two basic rubbing techniques. In technique one, you
start by pushing the ball against his pee hole and giving it a
few twists. This serves two purposes: it stimulates him, and it
picks up some precome to use as a lubricant. Next rub the ball
back and forth along the underside of the shaft, gently nicking
the cheeks."

"Do this until you feel him about to come, or a drop of precome
appears. If your left index finger tells you he is about to come,
ease up. Continue gently rubbing just the shaft for about 15
seconds. Then move onto rubbing technique two."

"Whenever you see precome, you can switch to the other
technique."

"Technique two starts the same as technique one. Push the ball
against the pee hole and twist. This time spiral out from the pee
hole spreading the precome in little circles on the head until
you are almost running the ball around the ridges at the edge of
the head. Then spiral slowly back in. Stop at the pee hole, give
the ball a twist, and shift back to rubbing technique one."

"It may take about a couple of attempts to get it down, but once
you get good at it, you can have Jason dripping with anticipation
in less than a minute, and you can keep him on the edge of orgasm
for as long as you want."

-=o=-

I was amazed. "How did you ever learn how to do this?"

"Well, I first put rubber to penis when I was a ***********. I
managed to make a couple of men come this way when I was in
college, but I didn't really perfect the technique until a couple
of years ago. I guess you can say it's a life time's work."

I looked at the ball I was holding. I looked down my legs at my
sneakers. I had never realized how much power I had at my hands
and feet!
--
Mule


------=_NextPart_000_01BC4199.686FF260
Content-Type: application/octet-stream; name="djason#6.txt"
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit
Content-Description: djason#6.txt (Text Document)
Content-Disposition: attachment; filename="djason#6.txt"



Domination of Jason
Chapter 6

All of these techniques helped me establish sexual anxiety and
relief in Jason. Stimulating a man and controlling his release
was just an ends to a means -- sexual domination.

And it worked! By then end of our third month of training, Jason
became completely devoted to me. Having him do the household
chores was convenient (he always did his share, and didn't
consider it demeaning as such, it's just that he now did my share
as well). I really enjoy having him give me backrubs and tending
to my feet (he still considers kissing and licking them to be
humiliating). And I always enjoy the complements I get from our
friends about how much a gentleman he is when we go out. Many of
my girlfriends comment to me about how they wish they had
husbands or boyfriends who are so polite and considerate. "How
did you do it?" they ask. Sometimes, I'm brave enough to joke
about it. "You have to train them when they're young," If they
only knew! I see some recognition in the eyes of some women, but
so far, Debbie is the only one in whom I can confide. Usually, I
stammer something like, "I'm just lucky, I guess."

Best of all is the sex. I allowed Jason to have intercourse on
those few occasions when I really felt in the mood for it, and
when I thought he really deserved it. He was so well trained to
consider my needs first that I am always totally satisfied.

It was about this time that Jason and I established a bedtime
routine. I wash up and brush my teeth, get into my nightgown, and
sit in a wing-back chair reading a magazine or a book. This had
been my routine ever since we got married. One difference now is
the types of magazines and books I read. I no longer read books
about kitchens and gardening. I've borrowed a lot of Debbie's
collection. She recommended a reading list for me, and I've
really enjoyed going through it. I now have subscriptions of my
own.

Another difference now is that now Jason kneels before me, with
his face in my crotch as I spend my time leisurely reading my
femdom publications. Debbie gave me a tip to improve his
performance. I tie a string around his balls, and give it a sharp
tug if he doesn't lick me properly. Jason learned to be an
accomplished cunlinginist in a short time.

Naturally, I gave Debbie all the details of the `love sessions'
Jason and I had. She suggested that I take things in my stride,
but that I gradually escalate my discipline.

"You have to maintain control at all times." she told me over
coffee during one of our many talks we had on the subject of the
taming of Jason. "I think you are ready to move into phase two."

"Phase two?" I asked her.

"Yes. In phase one, you rewarded Jason's good deeds with letting
him come. In phase two, you start punishing for bad behavior."

"Well, we certainly don't have much of that." I confided to her.
"Jason has been the perfect gentleman."

"Nobody's perfect." she replied. "Make something up. Don't settle
for sloppy service. If he's not on top of everything at every
moment, take it out on him."

"What do you mean by `take it out on him'." I asked.

"Spank him!" she said as if she couldn't believe I even asked the
question. "Men and women have been spanking one another since
Adam and Eve. It's perfectly natural, perfectly safe, and
perfectly necessary."

"I don't want to hurt Jason?" I complained.

"That's good. Some men like pain. We won't know about Jason --
and yourself -- until we get into a more advanced stage in his
training. Pain is something that can be added on later. The thing
we're going for here is humiliation and psychological control.
Spanking provides that."

"Spanking is on the extreme low end of the pain spectrum. It
rarely ever really hurts, and even then it's only temporary. The
real value of spanking is the humiliation. I bet Jason hasn't
been over a woman's lap since he was a **********. He probably
has ambivalent feelings about it. I'm sure he loved his mom, but
at that stage of his life, he was dependent upon her. She
controlled his life. In a sense, you are taking her place as he
regresses.

Spanking isn't something a grown man is supposed to submit to. To
surrender his body to you is a leap of trust. You are woman. All
of the world is telling him that you are supposed to be his
inferior. If that's so, how come he's over your lap. These are
the things that will be going through his mind."

"What do I do?" I asked.

"Start out with a simple, over-the-knee, hand spanking. It's
really an erotically cozy and intimate thing. You won't hurt him
much, but you'll really assert your authority over him. Later on,
as you both become more comfortable doing it, you can experiment
with belts, hair brushes, and even whips if it gets that far."

She laughed as she saw my mouth drop. I was certainly a non-
sophisticate when it came to these things. "Listen to me! I sound
like a mom instructing her daughter how to bake cup cakes. This
stuff seems so simple and so natural to me, that I forget that
other women don't do it as a routine."

I sat in awe of this woman's knowledge and experience. I decided
I'd try it.

-=o=-

I came home to see Jason's ass looking up at me from the kitchen
floor where he was on his hands and knees scrubbing. I called to
him, "Come in here! Stand in front of me. Look at this mess," I
said, sweeping my hand across what, in my pre-domination days, I
would have thought a perfectly clean living room. Now I could see
minor imperfections. A piece of lint here, a slightly
out-of-alignment picture there. "That doesn't look right at all.
We're going to do something about that right now."

I spoke mainly to build up my courage and to make Jason feel
inferior. This was a big leap for me, and I couldn't stand up to
much resistance from Jason. I needed him to give into me this
first time, and then I knew I could control him for life.

"You have to be more careful," I told him. "You have to pay
attention to detail. I don't want Debbie or my other friends
thinking we live in a sloppy house." I was being totally
unreasonable, but Jason took it all in meek submissiveness until
I suggested corporal punishment.

"I think you need to be taught a lesson. Get over here and get
over my lap. I'm going to give you a spanking to teach you to be
more careful."

"Anne!" he said.

"Anne?" I yelled back at him. "You are to call me mistress.
That's two lessons I have to teach you."

"I'm not going to let you spank me." he hissed, and then
belatedly added, "mistress."

"Oh yes you are." I said. "Do you want sex?"

"Of course I do, mistress." The title came more naturally then.

"Well, think about it. We've been in our `special arrangement'
for a couple of months now. Right?" He nodded a "yes."

"And in that time, since I've taken charge of your sex life,
you've had fewer ejaculations."

Again a nod.

"And they've been better ejaculations, haven't they."

He looked at his toes and admitted, "Yes, mistress."

"Ejaculations are more fun -- sex is more fun -- when I control
your lusty urges. You can't do it right unless I tell you or show
you how to do it. You need my dominance -- my control -- to have
good sex. AM I RIGHT?"

His eyes remained riveted on the floor as he muttered, "Yes
mistress."

"So there you have it. You don't have to come and get your
spanking. We can stop these games right now and go back to the
way it used to be. We can also stop something else. Do you
remember that first time I made you go all week without relief?"

Emphatically, "Yes, mistress."

"Well, how would you like to make it a month, or a year, or a
lifetime?" The question was rhetorical, I didn't expect and
answer.

Jason crossed the room to the seat on which I was sitting and lay
over my lap. He surrendered! I spanked him until his ass was good
and pink, and my own hand felt puffy and tingly itself. That
wasn't the only thing that puffy and felt tingly. I had Jason
finish me off with his tongue on the spot.

Debbie never told me how much fun this part would be. Looking at
Jason's drooling erection, I was sure he found it exciting too. I
found an excuse to spank Jason every other day.

By the end of the month we modified our life style even more.
Jason's schedule looked like housework every weekend, spanking
every other day, and cunt lapping every night. It was something I
couldn't even dream about the day I walked in on him, but I found
that I wanted more. Debbie warned me that this stuff was
addictive, but I only half believed her until I started hearing
some of my own demands.

I don't think it would have been as much fun for me if Jason
didn't get off on it too. I know that he really didn't take my
treats seriously. He could have terminated the arrangement at any
time. Instead, he hung in there. Everything I did to him or had
him do for me was something he wanted to do deep down inside. He
might have thought that he was being `forced' to do it, but no
force, treats (real threats, that is) or coercion was used. He
never once used our `stop' signal, and we discussed a lot of what
we did before we did it. What really convinced me that he enjoyed
my dominance is that he almost always had an erection every time
we did something.

Jason was faced with a simple decision: FemDom or Freedom. As I
sit here at my terminal, Jason under the table on his knees in
front of me, his head in between my legs, his mouth against my
pussy, his tongue where I love it most, I know he made the right
choice.

(The end -- for now. I'll continue if there are still readers who
managed to stay awake to this point and actually want to see
more).
--
Mule









Slave Shoelicker Princess





The girls were gone, and there I was, naked except for the pink
ribbons adorning my private parts. I caught my reflection in the
mirror and pondered the absurd sight. As if the ribbons weren't
enough, I was sucking my own semen out of a dirty sock. Why was I
doing this to myself? Why couldn't I control the lust I had to abase
myself at Jen's feet? Why was I more turned on by this degradation
than I ever was before?

I went to sleep that night with the ribbons on, the anklet in my
mouth, and a massive hard on.

Sunday came and I sat at home anxiously hoping for Jen to arrive. It
was mid-afternoon and I was pacing the floor, afraid to leave and miss
her should she come. The phone rang and I answered it. It was Jen.
She ordered me to come to her dorm room on campus and gave me
directions. I knew the campus fairly well and made my way over as
fast as I could.

There were many students moving in at the time, so it was easy for me
to get into Jen's dorm. I knocked on her dorm room and Jen opened the
door.

"Licky boy, good to see you. You're here to settle a bet," Jen said
pulling me into the room. She undid my pants and yanked them down to
my ankles.

"Well, well," said Jamilar. "He IS still wearing the ribbons. You
win Jen, but I must say, I'm glad that you did. Licky boy is so
compliant. I like that in a slave."

Jamilar walked up to me and visciously slapped my face. I was
startled but I involuntarily repied:

"Thank you Miss Jamilar."

The girls laughed at my ridiculous response. It was orientation
weekend at the university and the teens were going to a dinner party.
Jen was busy getting dressed and completely ignored me as she stripped
off one set of clothes and layed out another. My cock stood at full
salute to her magnificent body. She dressed in the same style short
pleated skirt and white blouse. Her hair was done up in a pony tail,
held in place by a pink ribbon. Jen's feet were still adorned with
the white anklets and frilly pink lace trim. The lovely maryjanes
completed the ensemble. I wondered if she had yet to remove the shoes
and socks. Could it be she really had worn them for three days
without taking them off?

Jamilar was still wearing an extremely short baby tee shirt dress that
clung to her alluring body. The black patent four inch pumps were on
her feet. Her legs looked fantastic as she strutted in those heels.
She wore expensive jewelery to complete her perfect appearance.

"We have a job for you while we are at the dinner party," Jen said, as
she took out some twine from one of the boxes she had used to move in.

"Turn around," she ordered.

I did as commanded and my wrists were tightly bound behind my back.

"On your knees."

I fell to my knees. With my hands tied behind my back and my pants
around my ankles, I was totally hobbled. Jen and Jamilar proceeded to
dump a pile of shoes on the floor of the room.

"Your job, licky boy, is to thoroughly clean each and every shoe in
that pile before we return from the party," Jen said.

I looked at the pile and wondered how in my bound state I would be
able to accomplish my task.

"Oh," Jen said with a smirk on her face, "I wouldn't want your tongue
to dry out and prevent you from finishing your chore."

Jen turned to the dresser and placed a large bowl of slimey goo on the
floor in front of me.

"Here's something for you to drink if you get thirsty. Hmm, maybe
that won't be enough," Jen giggled.

From the size of the bowl, there had to be nearly two quarts of the
slop.

"Perhaps we should be kind enough to add some more to make sure licky
boy can do a proper job. What do you think Jamilar?" Jen asked.

"I wouldn't want the dog to go thirsty," Jamilar said getting up from
the edge af the bed. She snorted up a thick wad of spittle and let it
drop into the bowl. It looked quite revolting as I knelt before the
bowl.

Princess Jen got up and proceeded to take her turn adding to the spit
soup. She spit and it landed on the floor in front of the bowl.

"Clean that up!" she ordered.

With my hands behind my back and my pants around my ankles, I had to
clumsily fall to the floor on my stomach to make my way there. I was
about to reach the spittle when Jen demanded:

"On your back."

On my back, I watched Jen step in the spit and bring her foot so that
it was inches over my face. I could see her pink cotton panties under
the short skirt. Her shaply buttocks and perfect legs had my heart
racing with excitement. I could see the pretty pink lace trim of the
anklet on either side of the maryjane. Jen let the moment linger and
then lowered the shoe to my lusting lips. I moaned in pleasure,
lapping at the sole. My degradation at Princess Jen's feet once again
causing a sexual arousal like no other I had experienced before her.
Jen removed her foot and I involuntarily groaned in severe
disappointment. Causing the vixens to laugh at my servile lust.

Jen scrapped the last of the spittle onto her shoe and slowly brought
it towards me. I licked my lips in anticipation and craned my neck to
get at the shoe which consumed my every thought. I was oblivious to
the giggles of the girls and the filming that Jamilar had begun with a
camcorder she had.

"Beg, licky boy. Beg if you want to clean the filthy slop off the
sole of my shoe," Jen said.

I needed it. I needed to get to Jen's shoe more than any desire I'd
ever had.

"Princess Jen," i began, "i beg you from the deepest depths of my
soul. i yearn to be your slave. Never before have i desired
something so much. A greater passion could not be found than the
passion burning within me to suplicate myself before you. i vow to
relinquish everything i am and devote my entire being as your servant
and slave. Please,...Please..."

Our eyes met, and Jen knew the sincerity of my commitment as i
prostrated myself at her feet. Taking pity at my utter desperation
she lowered the shoe to my eager lips. I licked her sole with every
fiber of dedication i could summon. The sheer ecstasy was
overwhelming and i was seconds from erupting in an orgasm sure to pale
all others i had ever experienced.

Jamilar stopped filming and jammed the spike of her heel into my cock.
She then reached down and squeezed my balls. The agony was unreal,
yet i refused to take my lips from Jen's maryjane.

Jen, satisfied that i had performed my task, walked away.

"Get on with your work," she said walking out the door.

i surveyed the shoes before me. Jen's were quite different than
Jamilar's. Jen had several colors and varieties of maryjanes and
saddle shoes, along with some penny loafers and atheletic shoes.
Jamilar's consisted almost entirely of expensive dress heels and
italian flats. i began first with Jamilar's. In my bound position it
was necessary to squirm on my belly to each shoe. i picked out a pair
of strappy sandals. i licked every inch of the sole and straps saving
the insole for last. Touching my tongue to the imprint of her foot,
my taste buds were assaulted with the acrid taste of Jamilar's foot
sweat. i was in heaven as i continued lapping the shoes, barely
noticing the agony in my neck caused by the awkward position i was
forced into by my bonds. i was no longer revolted by the slimey goo,
and it was necessary several times to drink from the slop to wet my
parched mouth.

i found myself prostrate before a pair of Jen's field hockey shoes.
The soles were caked with mud and dirt. Strangely, i devoured the
filth as if it were a gourmet meal, so eager was i to insure the
cleanliness of Jen's shoes.

Finished with my task, i wormed my way back to each and every shoe to
ascertain they were spotless. Just then the door opened. In walked
Jen and Jamilar along with two other girls who were slightly older and
very well dressed. The two girls burst out in hysterics at the
rediculous sight i presented.

"Look at those lovely ribbons he's wearing," one of them exclaimed.

"Is he really you slave?" the other one asked when she regained her
composure.

"Have a seat if you would," Jen said as the young ladies took a seat
on the edge of the bed.

"You look a little parched licky boy. Did your chore wear out that
tongue of yours?" Jen inquired.

"It was my pleasure to lick the dirt from your pretty shoes Princess
Jen," i said. "Thank you for the privledge."

The girls giggled as i abased myself before my princess.

"Are you thirsty?" she said popping the top of a can of soda.

"Oh yes Princess Jen."

That cold soda sure looked good. Jen began to sip it, then said to
me:

"By all means have a drink licky boy," gesturing in the direction of
the large bowl of spit still quite full with over a quart of the goo.

i slithered as best i could to the bowl, knowing full well what Jen
expected of me. Reaching the slop, i took a little sip, burning with
shame as i humiliated myself in front of these new coeds. i felt
something on the back of my head and then my face was forced to the
bottom of the bowl. i was up to my ears in the slime. It was in my
eyes, and some was inhaled through my nose.

"Better drink up," i heard over the roar of laughter in the one ear
not completely covered.

i began slurping the thick, foul substance as fast as i could.
Several times i nearly chocked, but Jen just pressed down harder,
making it more difficult to drink. Finally, turning blue in the face,
i reached the bottom and managed a breath. Jen took her foot away,
and i lay face down in the bowl, panting for air.

"What do you have to say for yourself licky boy," Jen asked.

"Thank you Princess Jen," i muffled into the bottom of the bowl,
raising more hysterics from the audience.

"Get over here," Jen ordered.

i snaked my way to my princess. Jen extended her beautiful leg and
made a point with her toe. The tip of the maryjane touching the
ground inches in front of my face. Reverently and with loving
adoration, i placed tender kisses to the toe of the pretty shoe,
paying homage to the reason for my existence.

"Wow," one of the girls said. "Does he kiss ass too?"

Jen stood and turned her back to me. She bent forward, flipped her
skirt onto her back, and began swaying her hips from side to side. i
scrambled as fast as i could given my position, to get on my knees. i
was mesmerized by the sight of Jen's fantastic ass. Her pink cotton
panties moving hypnotically. Jen looked back at me as i fixated on
her swaying ass. My face glistened with the spittle and it soaked my
hair.

"You're to disgusting to kiss it now licky boy," she said as i groaned
in agony to the delight of the others.

"Perhaps you can smell, but don't get that filth on my pretty
panties."

i moved closer getting my nose as close as i could to the crack of
Jen's firm, heartshaped ass. Suddenly Jen farted. Impulsively i
inserted my nose as close as i could get it and inhaled her heady
fragrance. My eyes closed as i reveled in the gift from my princess,
unconcerned by the disgust of my audience.

After the comotion died down, the two new girls got up to leave.

"Thank you so much for letting us observe your slave. Do feel free to
bring him by the Gamma house anytime. I think you will find we are
the only sorority worth pledging. Especially for women of your
calibre. You are both welcome anytime. Bye bye licky boy," the girls
said as they left the room.

"Look at you, you're disgusting," Jen said lifting her feet as she sat
on the bed. She then began smearing the spittle with the soles of her
shoes, rubbing it into my face and hair. Treating me as little more
than a doormat. Desparately i attempted to kiss her shoes as they
moved across my face.

"There, that's better," Jen giggled looking at my ludicrous
appearance. By wiping her shoes on my spittle covered face, the dirt
from the soles was smeared all over it. i looked like a street bum
who hadn't washed in weeks.

Jen removed the twine and ordered:

"Get dressed, but leave your fly open and I want the ribbons hanging
out."

i quickly did as my princess ordered and followed behind her as we
left the dorm room. i did my best to hide behind Jen and Jamilar to
avoid letting people see the rediculous pink ribbons hanging out in
front of me.

"Two steps back and off to the side or I'll have you crawl," she
snapped.

"Yes Princess Jen," i said jumping back in quick compliance.

Of course she said this just as a large crowd of coeds were passing by
thus drawing their full attention. i turned red with shame as they
all laughed at my humiliation.

We entered a coffee shop on campus, and the girls took a seat and sent
me to pick up some sparkling water and cake. Shamefaced i went to the
counter to get the refreshments. The coed behind the counter gave me
a disapproving look given the dirt on my face and ribbons hanging out
my fly. i quickly paid for the food and made my way back to our
table.

On the way, to my horror, i spotted Jackie, reading a book at a table
not far from ours. My heart was pounding with apprehension. i
reached the table and it was evident the girls spotted Jackie as well
by their giggling. i was going to pick a chair that would at least
put my back to Jackie when Jen kicked out another chair designed to
put me on full display.

Obediantly i took my seat.

"Would you like something to drink licky boy?" Jen said with a smirk
on her face.

i couldn't respond.

"You must be thirsty, and you bought three mineral waters," as the
girls laughed.

i was still silent.

Jamilar lifted her lovely leg and dropped it into my lap. She began
caressing my cock with her heel. It felt wonderful and the expression
on my face clearly revealed this to the world. What if Jackie saw?

"Remove my shoe," Jamilar ordered.

How far did these vixens intend to go in humiliating me? i knew i
needed to put a stop to this right now. If Jackie saw me she would
surely tell Donna and i would never be able to recover my self respect
again. i delayed, trying to speak out against this public scene. i
just couldn't get myself to object. What type of power did Jen
actually have over me? Just how far could she take me?

Jamilar stuck the spike of her heel into my ball sac and i gasped in
pain. i was a bit to loud and it got Jackie's attention who was now
looking right at us. Jamilar increased the pressure and twisted the
shoe. The pain was clearly evidenced in my dirt streaked face, yet i
did nothing to stop the teen beauty who was enjoying my torment
imensely.

"Remove my shoe," she repeated.

If there was ever a question as to what i would do, it was erased by
the agony i just endured. i was about to take the heel off when the
pain returned.

"Do it properly licky boy," Jamilar ordered.

She said it loud enough for Jackie to hear. i was wholly degraded.
Without thinking i responded:

"Yes Miss Jamilar."

"Call me Royal Mistress Jamilar."

With only the dirt on my face to hide my shame i weakly complied, "Yes
Royal Mistress Jamilar."

Reverently i brought the heel up to my lips. As if kissing a loved
one, i kissed the sole of the sexy shoe. i caught the expression on
Jackie's face as i did. It was one of total disgust. i slid the heel
off and placed it on the table.

i was the color of a ripe tomato as a result of my self abasement.
Jen opened one of the bottles and poured some into the heel.

"Pity we have no champange."

They each poured some for themselves, and Jen said:

"Down the hatch."

i lifted the sexy heel and my cock was straining in its confines
despite my utter degradation, or perhaps because of it. i lifted it
to my lips as the girls burst out laughing. Slowly i drank from the
heel, no longer caring who saw, as my arousal was so intense. i
looked at Jackie and she just shook her head as if to say:

"You pathetic worm."

After shaking the last of the precious drops onto my eager tongue, i
gently kissed the tip of the shoe and placed it on the table.

"On your knees licky boy," Jamilar demanded.

i fell to the floor at her feet.

"I've been in these heels all day and my feet are tired, dirty and
fragrant. Lets see you live up to your name. Clean my foot," Jamilar
ordered.

i was being completely dehumanized. She lifted her sexy leg and
traced my lips with her toes. i forgot about all else as the rich
aroma of her stinky feet hit my senses. i was in a state of pure
nirvana as my tongue reached out and tasted the acrid ambrosia. Like
a hungry a****l starved for a week i licked at her foot, searching
every nook and cranny for Jamilar's delicious crusty toe cheese.
Jamilar grabbed the ribbons hanging from my penis and started yanking
on them. The pain only increased the ecstasy and i screamed out in
utter bliss as i came. Spewwing jet after jet of cum. Exhausted, i
grabbed Jamilar's foot, covering it with adoring kisses.

"Thank you, Thank you, Royal Mistress Jamilar," i pleaded , so
grateful for her treat, as i continued to love her foot.

"Clean up that mess licky boy," Jen ordered.

When Jamilar was tugging on the ribbons, she had pulled my cock out
through the open fly. My massive orgasm was all over the filthy
floor. It had to be the largest load i ever ejaculated. Slowly i
bent to clean my mess.

"On your belly," Jen demanded.

i prostrated myself in front of these young coeds and began mopping
the floor with my tongue, eating my own seed.

"Take your time licky boy. Jamilar and I have lots to talk about,"
Jen said as the girls giggled at the obsequious suplicant at their
feet.

As i pondered my debasement, i heard the sound of high heels clicking
on the tile floor. The heels stopped inches in front of my face. i
was in the middle of licking one puddle and looked up. Jackie looked
down at my filthy face. Thick cum covering my lips and outstretched
tongue. She was the most beautiful woman i'd ever known and yesterday
she was almost my lover.

"You disgusting dog," was all she said. She turned and walked away,
taking with her my former existence as a man.