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The Trainer By Nancy Rose (copyright 1998, all rights reserved) Chapter One He was a pretty one, the red-painted pouting lips so full, the mascara making his eyes big and bright, the tight red satin dress hugging his thin, curvy, oh- so-slightly girlish form. The mistress had such an eye for these boys, knew exactly which ones to pick. "No," he whined. "Please. Why are you doing this? Please, let me go." He didn't know how sexy he looked when he begged. The blond page-boy wig gave him such a sultry sex-kitten look that his pleading, while out of quite sincere desperation, just seemed like coy flirtation. His voice was naturally high now, with just a hint of bass hinting at what he used to be. How quickly we had sapped him of his masculinity. "Don't you want me?" I asked, knowing the answer. I put a hand under his dress and ran a finger over the little bulge in his red satin panties. His body had betrayed him, its lust eroding his will, his desires making him willing to give up anything to be with me. I didn't want anything but his masculinity. "You know I do," he finally said, tears welling in his eyes. "Then say it." His arms, thin and smooth, looked so luscious as they strained against the chains. His stockinged legs, so shapely with high heels on his feet, could barely move because the mistress had the spreader-bar locked between his legs. He'd been standing, chained in the box, his arms above him, his gams spread below him, for almost ten hours. It had been ten hours of me teasing him, making him want me, making him beg the mistress to wear another female garment. First the panties, then the bra, the garter belt, the stockings, the make-up, the dress, the wig, and finishing with a pair of 4-inch bright red heels with thin ankle straps and bows at the toe. Sexier, more feminine shoes have never been created. With each garment he donned, I stroked his little thing, but it was his tenth session and the mistress' potion was changing him, making it harder and harder for him to cum. His manhood could get amazingly stiff, but it would never again be the instrument of his climax. Such was the magic of the mistress' potion. "I want you," he said. "Will you be a girl for me?" I asked, knowing the answer. "Yes," he said, blushing with shame, already more girl than boy. "And you'll give the mistress your boyhood?" I asked and gently stroked his hardened maleness. "Yes," he said weakly, about to cry. "You'll need to be a very dainty girl, you know." "Yes. I know." "We'll teach you how to be such a good sissy. You'll learn how to walk like a girl, sit like a girl, even throw a ball like a girl. Nothing about you will be allowed to resemble a male." I stroked him harder and harder. The poor dear wanted to cum so bad. You could see it in his eyes, but release was now impossible through his useless thing. But there were other ways. At his first session, so many weeks ago, he came in just seconds, messing the pretty little panties she had given him. Looking at me, with the promise of me touching his thing, he barely resisted sliding those silky, lacy undies up his legs. When they're in their late teens, it's an easy process. The hormones are raging, sexual hunger making them easily persuaded. They need little help from mistress' potion, a special recipe of hormones and psychotropic drugs that erode resistance and increase the power of suggestion. Today was his tenth session and his thing was no longer able to spurt. The only way he could have relief was through his tight little rear-end, where the prostate waited, with much anticipation, to be manipulated. But he would have to ask first. He would have to ask to be fucked like a girl. I was the trainer. I was to do the fucking. "You want to cum don't you, my little pretty one?" I asked. "Ooooo yes," he said in a voice so sexy it almost made me orgasm. I stroked him harder and harder, knowing it would do nothing but frustrate him more, decimating his will even further. "Does the little girly want to cum?" "Uh-huh. Ooo yes." "Then you'll be a girl for me? You'll cum like a girl?" "Yes. Please anything. I can't take this anymore. Pleeeeease." Even his whining was sexy and feminine. "I like my girlfriends to cum while I'm inside them." "What? No, please no." "What? My little girl doesn't want to cum?" "Yes, she does, she does. But I don't want to be..." "Fucked? Oh I think you do. You do, don't you?" It's here, when they have just a little resistance left, that the hypnotic effect of the potion does its most important work. "I do?" "Yes, you do. You want to feel it deep inside you. It will make you feel so good to have me inside you." "Yes, it will make me feel very good." "The more you feel like a girl, the better you will feel." "Yes, please I want you inside me." "My little girl wants fucked?" "yes pleeeeease, yesssss, oh pleeeeease." "Anything for my little girl." I walked around behind him, my high heels ominously clicking on the floor. I lifted my black leather skirt, pulled off my black satin panties and let free my hardened manhood. It had been five years since the mistress had robbed me off the power to cum through it, but fucking was still very, very, very pleasurable. I lubed it up with KY. I was proud of it really. The rest of me was so feminine and pretty now, I didn't mind have something that was still male. I nestled the head between his cheeks, barely pressing into his little virgin rosebud. "Pleeeease," he said. "Ooooo pleeeeease." I thrust it in. "Uggggggggghh!" he yelled, almost sounding like a boy again. I knew I hurt him, but he'd get over it. I started moving in and out slowly, then faster then faster. The mistress stepped forward to talk to the transformed boy who was writhing in agony and ecstasy. "Look at you , you little slut with a dick in your pussy, begging to be fucked. You like it. You love it. From now on, this is the only way you'll be able to cum. Do you understand me?" "Yesssss, Mistressssss," he managed to get out. "Now cum for me, you little whore," she said. "Cum like the girl you are, with a dick in your cunt." He screamed loud, like a girl, his voice a lovely screeching falsetto. His eyes clenched tight and he grimaced, thrashing his head back and forth. He had cum just like a girl, and he'd never be a boy again. Chapter Two She recruited me at the mall. I was eating a corn dog in the food court, alternately reading a book (something by Henry Miller) and looking at girls, desiring most of them, but much too frightened to talk to any of them. I was short, thin, nerdish, brainy, shy and slightly effeminate. Other boys, with the exception of a few nerdish friends, wanted nothing to do with me, except for the ones that wanted to kick the shit of me when there wasn't football practice or beer chug-a-lug contests to keep them busy. Girls had no interest in me whatsoever. If I had been more flamboyant, I could have used my intelligence and sensitivity to good use. I know that now. But back then, I could barely say three words to a girl, much less establish close friendships with girls, like some of my artier, probably gay acquaintances did. So my world was my books, my schoolwork, and my constant vigilance of all things feminine. I'd hang out at the mall for hours, looking, admiring, desiring those gorgeous female creatures. They were all goddesses to me, easily worthy of worship. She walked up to me, all business, confidence and sex. Tight black business suit, short skirt hugging her hips, man-tailored jacket displaying a lovely cleavage, black stockings around long muscular legs, black patent leather pumps with 4-inch heels, silky raven-black hair cut in a short page-boy, big green eyes like jade, blood red lips, a strength in her face that did nothing to dim the beauty of it. My heart nearly stopped. It was a wonder I didn't get on my knees and kiss her heels right there in the middle of the mall. I was frozen by the sight of her, the corn dog still stuck in my mouth. "You like things in your mouth?" she asked, towering over me, staring down with those wondrous green eyes, a gentle smile on her lips. I bit, chewed and swallowed, almost choking. "Easy there, little one," she said. "It's been a while since I've given someone the Heimlich maneuver." "Yeah, uh, do I know you?" I managed to mumble out. "No, but I know you," she said and sat down across from me. She took the corn dog out of my hand and took a big bite of it, never taking her eyes off me. I felt like I was the one being devoured. "Mmmmmmm," she said. "I'd love a lemonade to go with this. Get me one." I hesitated for a moment, then went and bought a lemonade. I knew it was weird for someone to just walk up to someone else and demand a lemonade, but it wasn't like I got to talk to stunningly beautiful women all the time. It would be worth the $1.50 just to look at her a few more minutes. She took a big sip, again without taking her eyes off me. "You'd do just about anything to fuck me wouldn't you?" she asked. I think my mouth dropped open but I don't remember too much other than being thoroughly shocked. I didn't say a word. She calmly took another sip of lemonade. "You're in luck, my sweet," she said. "I'm in need of a helper. My current one is moving on to bigger and better things. I've been watching you for weeks. I'd like to recruit you for the job. Part of that job is keeping me sexually satisfied. Would you like that?" My member jumped up into a stiff salute. My brain couldn't quite think about the strangeness and possible dangers of the situation. The anticipation of touching her was enough to muffle any critical thought. "I thought so," she said, taking my silence for the positive answer it was. "What do you want?" I asked. "Spoken like a true submissive," she said. "To prove to me your commitment, I want you to go into Victoria's Secret and buy a pair of red satin G-string panties, the lacier and sexier the better. Understand? And make sure they're your size." "Yes ma'am," I said. "Mistress, dear. Call me Mistress." ---------- I looked all over the Victoria's Secret, at panties and bras and night gowns and perfume and teddies and so many feminine silky things. I looked down the whole time, so ashamed, so humiliated. I was sure every woman in the store thought I was a pervert. But my lust kept me going, kept me focused on the task. Get through this, and the beautiful eccentric lady might let you touch her, I thought. There were no red silky panties to be found. "Can I help you?" asked a smiling, pretty teenage clerk with blond hair, blue eyes, perky breasts and a good chance cheerleader practice was in her near future. "Uh, yeah, uh, I'm looking for, for my girlfriend, a pair of red satin G-string panties." "Oh! I see. We have a few more in the back. What size waist are you?" "Huh, oh god, these aren't for me..." "Oh yeah, of course not. What is size is your girlfriend's waist?" "I have no idea." "Well, does she have, out of coincidence, the same size waist as you?" "Maybe." "Well, what does that make it?" Other women in the store where starting to look at us. I had to get out of there and fast. I must have been apple-red from blushing. "30 inches," I said. "Great!" she said and disappeared into the back, leaving me to avoid the stares from other shoppers by closely examining a rack of black silk panty girdles. She returned and held high the lacy red panties. "Will these do?" she asked far too loudly. "Yes," I squeaked out. "Would you like to try them on?" "Wha...I... no!" I said, humiliated beyond belief. "Okay," she said and went to the cash register. Everyone on the store had their eyes on me. -------- The Mistress was pleased when I brought her the package. "Was that embarrassing dear?" "Yes." "Good," she said. "A little humiliation is a wonderful thing. It'll keep you from becoming too prideful. Have a seat." I sat down across from her feeling relieved that my humiliation was over. I couldn't wait to see what would happen next. She took the panties out of the bag and inspected them. Red lace trimmed all around the front triangle of red silk. The G-string was a line of little lace flowers. "My, these are beautiful," she said. "You have lovely taste. Feel how smooth they are." She reached over with the panties and rubbed the satin against my face. I could feel the strength and warmth of her hands against my cheek. I know people in the food court were looking at us and I didn't care. "You like the way those feel?" she asked. "Yes." "Do you want to go home with me?" "Yes." "Get on your knees, right her in front of everybody, and kiss the toes on each of my shoes. Then we can go." I got on my knees, my head under the table. I didn't care who was looking, didn't care I was kissing a strangers toes. All I cared about was I was horny and about to explode. Also, I loved getting a good close look at those wonderful shoes. I'd always had a bit of a high heel fetish. "Very good," she said. "Follow two paces behind me as we leave the mall." "Yes Mistress," I said, still on my knees. ----- I was quite naked, sitting on her black leather coach, in her cleanly designed (black leather furniture, white carpet, chrome and glass coffee table and lamps) living room, in her spacious house. She had given me some lemonade to drink, and I had drank it all. I was naked because she ordered me to be. In her presence, I was only allowed to wear what she gave me to wear. At the time, I didn't know what kind of clothes she had in mind. She paced back and forth, examining me like I was some kind of weird sculpture that she didn't quite understand. "You're not bad really," she said, pacing. "Thanks, I..." "Shut up! Don't speak unless you are spoken to. Now, you aren't bad, but your body will need ... help. It's good that you are thin, but your hips are so narrow. Please, make your self erect." "What?" "Play with yourself, dear." "What?" "Make yourself hard. Look at me, in fact, look at my shoes, my legs. It's good for submissive to have shoe fetishes. I always encourage that. Look at them." She walked over and put her foot just below my thing, the head of it limply touching the shiny leather. It become erect almost immediately. "That's very good, sweety," She said. "You are such a horny one. This will be so easy! Touch yourself a bit, but don't you dare cum on my shoe unless you're ready to lick it off." I gingerly took it in my hand and stroked up and down, very embarrassed and turned-on at the same time. "Good, sweety, very good. It's all right. I know how much you want me. I know how much you like having a nice shiny high heel next to your little thing." She must have seen I was getting close because she yelled: "Stop!" I stopped, so close to finishing it was excruciating. "Stand." I stood. "Put these on." She handed me the panties. I held them not moving. "Oh come on, you've been doing so beautifully. Don't start resisting now. I know you want to wear them." "No, really I don't." "If you wear them, then I'll let you climax. Wouldn't that be nice?" "Yeah..." "Well, come on then. You'll look lovely!" I slowly stepped into the panties. My hardened thing jutted out over the top of them. "Very nice," she said. "Now you may jack yourself off while you wearing your nice panties. Go ahead. Stare at me and jack off. Look at me and indulge your lust, panty boy." I looked at her and started going at it. "You love wearing panties," she said. "Say it. Say, 'I love wearing panties." "I love wearing panties. I love wearing panties!" I came and came and came. "Very good, panty boy. Very good. From now on, you will not be able to cum unless you are wearing panties. Understand?" "Yes." "Good. Now lick your cum off my nice glass coffee table, get dressed and go home. You will not wear any boy's underwear, only these red panties understand?" "Yes." "Good, now get to licking." I couldn't help myself. I bent over and started licking my own seed off the coffee table. Part of my brain was wondering what the hell I was doing and why I didn't get the hell out of there. But the rest of me just wanted to be obedient. Besides, it tasted kind of good. Before I left, she gave me another glass of lemonade and said, "Here's a nice drink before you go. Drink it all." I drank it all. "Good sissy," she said. "That will make you nice a pliable. On your way home, as you drive, say over and over again, 'I am becoming submissive. I am becoming feminine.' Say it over and over." "I am becoming submissive. I am becoming feminine." "That's right. Bye bye now." "I am becoming submissive. I am becoming feminine." I walked out the door, got in my car and drove away, repeating my mantra all the way home. Chapter Three So I drove home repeating those lines, over and over. "I am becoming more feminine. I am becoming more submissive." After a while, I didn't even think about the words. They just kept coming out, floating around my subconscious. I got out of the car and walked to the front door, but something was wrong with me. My hips seemed to be swishing, bouncing back and forth. I was walking like a sissy and I couldn't seem to stop it. It was around 11 p.m. and parents were asleep, so I daintily bounced up the stairs, skipped to my room, closed and locked the door. My room had become the ugliest thing I'd ever seen. The decor was early caveman crossed with sci-fi hell. Why were these ugly and non-coordinated posters all over the place? I had such horrible taste! Exhausted, I took off all my clothes, except for the panties of course, and put on my pajamas. But I couldn't stand them. The flannel I once thought was so soft now seemed to itch me all over. And the little choo-choo train design on them was just too much. How could I sleep feeling that poorly dressed! I stripped down to nothing but the panties and hopped into bed, sliding underneath my horrid football team comforter. Why didn't I have a flowered one? What did I ever see in these childish, ugly things that surrounded me in my room? "When will I be able to get some decent satin sheets?" was my last thought when I finally fell asleep, the G-string of the panties comfortably nestled in the crack between my cheeks. For some reason, that sensation made me feel all warm and tingly. --------------- School the next day was non-stop embarrassment. I guess it wasn't a good idea to wear a few items from my sister's closet. She had gone off to college last year and left so many wonderful clothes. I just couldn't wear anything in my closet. Everything was so drab, ill-fitting and just plain ugly. But in my sister's closet I found a lovely denim mini-skirt with lace flowers at the top and bottom. I loved the way it looked on me, especially with my sister's white high heels, but knew I couldn't wear something like that to school. I was boy after all. Wasn't I? I didn't seem to feel like one anymore. So I decided on a pair of nicely cut blue jeans. They were very tight and I loved that the zipper was in the back! It made the front look so nice and smooth. There were also zippers at both ankles because the cuffs were so tight and at the top of each zipper was a tiny little denim bow! Adorable! I wasn't stupid though. I knew better than to wear the pink flowered blouse to school. So instead I chose a nice understated white blouse that looked just like a boy's shirt, except for the fact that it was satin and had mother-of-pearl buttons. I didn't think anyone would notice. I was wrong, but I'll get to that in a second. For shoes I went with very stylish white flats, not much different from boy's shoes really, but I couldn't resist wearing stockings. The shoes looked much better with stockings! How could I not? So, I swished up and down the halls, stared at, teased, humiliated and strangely enjoying it. I was the center of attention in every class, and for some reason I loved it. I was flaunting my sissiness, crossing my legs when I sat, walking like a girl, holding my books like a girl. The more people looked at me, the more feminine I got. All the attention was fun, and some people really seemed to like me for the first time in my high school career, but then the jocks took offense. Jimmy Hackett (fullback), Joe Coleman (linebacker), and Biff Smith (quarterback) yanked me from a hallway and threw me in boy's room. I was on the floor, cowering under a urinal, three behemoths towering over me. "We are going to kill your sissy ass," said Jimmy. "It's too bad you are a guy, because you do have a nice ass," said Joe. "Would you like to suck a dick before you die, faggot?" asked Biff. And then I was rescued. The Gay Club had some truly buff guys in it and just about all of them showed up. The jocks were out numbered by at least three to one, not to mention hopelessly outclassed in the fashion category. "Get out, before we bash back," said Don, the huge blond Gay Club president, wearing a Versache silk print shirt, with pleated khaki's and Italian loafers. My rescuer had stepped off the pages of GQ. The jocks ran out like the room had just caught fire. "You okay?" he asked and extended his large, strong hand. I took it, and he effortlessly pulled me off the ground. "Ohhh, uh, yes I'm fine," I said, blushing, feeling attraction toward a male for the first time. What was happening to me? "I'm glad you decided to come out of the closet, but sometimes it's better to just step out of it, not run out and prance around in provocative clothing. You do look cute though." I blushed even harder. "Thanks Don, thanks for your help." He gave me a long, tender hug. I didn't want to let go. -------------- Later that day, at the Mistress' house, I was understandably upset. "Look at me!" I yelled. "Just look at me! Suddenly I'm acting like a fag! What did you do to me?" "You're not acting gay, dear," She said calmly. "You're acting like a girl." "But I'm not a girl!" "Not yet." "What is that supposed to mean?" "I mean, when the time comes, you'll ask me to be girl and I will arrange it for you. That will be my reward to you for being a good trainer." "A trainer? "A trainer, yes dear. What I like to do is lure young boys here and turn them into lovely she-males. It's kind of a hobby of mine. The best way to do that is using their sexual drives to control them." "Is that what you're doing to me?" "Dear, you don't need much training. I knew you were a sissy as soon as I laid eyes on you. I like to do it to nice straight boys, boys who would grow up to be macho assholes who beat their wives and ignore their kids." "Why?" "I don't like macho men...for personal reasons I might explain to you one day. But for now, just know that you have little choice in your destiny. You've already gone past the point of no return. It might take a bit of effort to erase the rest of your boyishness, but I will, and then you'll be the perfect bait, the perfect little teenage sexpot. You'll bring my boys here, turn them on, seduce them, then make them beg to be feminized. Teenage boys will do anything to satisfy their sexual urges, even give up their masculinity. "Then, once they are ready, you will reveal your remaining masculine bit, your cock, and you will fuck them with it, making them feel completely and finally like a girl." "You're not doing this with me! I'm leaving!" "No, you're not." She took a large gun out of her purse and shot at me, a fuzzy dart slamming into my chest. "Night, night dear," she said. I blacked out. Chapter Four I woke chained to a table kind of like an operating table. My wrists and ankles were shackled down. An IV was tuck in my right arm. I was quite naked and felt very cold. Suddenly her face, seeming so huge, was all I could see. She looked down with an expression that was somewhere between amusement and pity. "Hello dear," she said. "Hi." "I'm sorry you're making this difficult. I chose you because with boys like you the transition is normally very easy, even welcomed." "You'd think I'd welcome becoming a girl!" "Of course. Perhaps you were more masculine then I thought, but no matter. You will bend to my will. I have many ways of molding you." "Why me?" "Because you're the right size for the maid uniforms and all the clothes my former trainer left behind." "I don't understand you lady. Why do you need a trainer?" "Because I like taking macho boys, the mean ones, the hateful ones, and turning them into girls, weak girls, submissive girls, and then cutting their dicks off." "Oh my god." "But you, sweety, you'll get to keep your little thing. That's why I have a trainer. You see, to macho boys, there is nothing more humiliating than being fucked with a dick. I have lots of dildos, but it's not the same thing as a real flesh torpedo. You should see their macho faces when they feel it slide in and know that they're being fucked. It's amazing to watch. "But you, my little sweety, you I want to enjoy your femininity. I don't want to resort to my potions and hypnotic tricks. I want you to retain your personality and come to embrace the natural female side of you. I even want you to become a bit dominant. I want you to enjoy your punishing of big bullies, rude tough guys, and especially, the rapists." "Please lady. Just let me go. I think you're crazy." "Oh I can't just yet. You know too much. Besides I think you still have potential. So let's continue with your training." "Training?" "First thing is I need to control your sex drive. That is the key to controlling males, you know. Once you harness that, you harness them." She slathered an oil all over my penis, fondling me gently but firmly. I guess I responded. "Mmmmmm, you like that. Very nice." I did enjoy the feel of her gloved hand massaging my oily thing. "Yeah, it does feel good," I said, and closed my eyes, the pleasure calming me, relaxing me. "Well, I don't want it hard right now, so we will have to make it soft." That sounded good to me. "Oh yeah, make it soft." "I'm not going to do it that way dear." Then she jammed a needle into the hole at the top of penis and injected something in there. It burned like crazy. "Ahhhhhhhhh! Hey! What Are you doing?" "Just ensuring that for the next few weeks I have your undivided attention." It felt like I had a hard on, in fact it felt like I was on the verge of cumming, but I was stuck. The sensation was maddening, like having to sneeze and not being able to. "Feeling a little horny?" she asked. "Oh God please let me cum, pleeeease." God I was pitiful, but I was stuck in a pre-orgasmic state and it was excruciating. "Oh no dear. Not yet. I want this feeling to build for a while. I want your mind on nothing but sex, on nothing but relieving this horrible tension." "Pleeeeease. Oh god don't do this!" "Would you like me to release your right hand so you can play with yourself?" "Oh yes. Please yes!" "Alright then." She undid the buckle on my right arm and my hand zipped straight to my crotch and gripped my limp little penis. Sure, I was embarrassed but I didn't care. Whatever she had done to me had me wanting to cum so bad I would have jerked off in the middle of Times Square. But I couldn't get a hard on. I jiggled it, jacked it and jostled it. I rub the head of it and gripped my aching balls below it. It wouldn't get hard, much less squirt out the agony that was building in me. She said: "Awwwwww, my poor little baby can't cum. What's the matter? You're little wee wee doesn't work?" "What did you do to me? What did you do!" I kept shaking my thing, desperately trying to get a response that would lead to relief, but it was like holding a cold cocktail wiener. "Pleeeeeease," I begged, my groin, my member, everything, even deep inside my balls, was itching. "There is one way," she said rather ominously. I knew I didn't want to know, but I knew she was going to torture me until I asked. "What is it? Pleeeeease, what is it?" "Your prostate dear. The proper manipulation of the prostate will give you the relief you so desperately crave." Now I was slapping my little guy, trying to get any response at all. Didn't work. "Oh come one, please, there must be another way." "Nope." She lowered her hand and gently took my member and gently squeezed with her thumb and fore finger, rolling it gently. It was heaven, but not enough to make me cum. I was so close. "See," she said. "I can be nice too." I couldn't speak, riding a wave of pain and pleasure. "You have to treat it like a clit now. You can't just slap away at it like you once did. It's much more sensitive now." "Uh-huh," I managed to get out. She had me feeling very good. "You try dear. Just take your fingers and gently roll it. You won't be able to cum, but you will give yourself some temporary relief." I reached down and did as she said. She did it better, but I was able to stave off the horrible ache. I'd never felt so sensual, so aware of my hunger for sexual release. I felt sexy. "There now does that feel good?" she asked. "Oh yes, yes it does," I said, only half conscious. "You like playing with your clitty?" "Yes." "Then say it." How could I resist? "I like playing with my clitty." "And its mine to let you play with. I can take it away if I like." She grabbed my arm and pulled it way from my thing. She was incredibly strong. The itching and burning came back even stronger than before. "Pleeeeease," I begged. She was steel. I couldn't break her grip. "Pleasure or pain, you make the choice." "Pleasure, please, pleasure." It felt like my groin was on fire. It was either cum or go mad. I would have done anything at that point, which is, of course, exactly what she wanted. She let go of my hand I went right back to massaging myself. The pain left and I was just left that pleasant, powerful desire. "Good girl. Now just keep playing with yourself while I prepare you for your performance." "Yes, okay." I kept rubbing, even while I wondered what she meant by "performance." My eyes were closed, so I only felt her undo the straps that held me down. I was too into the cloud of pleasure I was floating on to care that my chance to escape was passing me by. I felt her smear the lipstick on my lips, and I loved the sensual feel of it, barely even wondering why she was doing it. Then I felt her slide the garter belt up my legs and adjust it around my waist. Then I felt the stockings, so shear and soft, caress my legs. "Feel nice don't they, on your nice smooth legs." "Ooooo yes." "You're legs are so much nicer without hair, aren't they?" "If you say so." Then came the shoes, with their very high heels. I could feel my calves pleasantly stretch as she buckled them on. "Very sexy, very nice." "Uhhh, huh." "I love this part of the transformation, when the subject is still a boy yet already part girl." "Girl, yes, boy." I knew I wasn't making sense, my awareness surrounded in a delirium of sensuality and sex. "That's part of the beauty of what you are about to become. No matter how feminine you'll be, you'll always have a little part of you that's male that will struggle with all this submission, this sacrifice of the male world." "Uh huhhhhh." Now she didn't seem to be making sense. "Just thinking about your tortured masculinity, trapped and tortured in a reality of the feminine, makes me wet." "Whatevvvverrrrr." "Time for your debut dear." "Huhhhh?" "I'm going to handcuff your hands behind your back." "Nooooo. Pleeeease." "You won't be able to touch yourself and the pain will be excruciating." "Noooooo." "But you will be able to find relief." "Yessssss." "When you open your eyes, you'll see a special chair with big greased dildo in the seat. You'll sit on it, impaling you tight little ass on it. Ride it up and down. It'll hurt a bit, but then you'll cum as you never have before." "Nooooo, pleeeease." "Sorry sweety. It's time for you to pop your cherry." With what seemed like super human strength, she flipped me over and handcuffed my hands behind my back. It felt like ants were crawling in and out of my member. I ached and tickled and itched. I screamed. "Ahhhhhhh!" "All you have to do is go to the chair, dear," she said. I rolled off the table, almost falling because I was now wearing 4'' heels. But my footwear was the least of my worries. My sexual organs felt like they were connected to a car battery. I saw the chair, an ominous looking black wooden affair with a big back phallus in the middle of the seat. I could see she had slathered a large amount of KY on it. Very fucking considerate of her. "There it is, dear. Relief awaits." I couldn't stand it anymore. I ran, as best I could, to the chair and eased myself down on the dildo. It felt like it was ripping me open. "Owwwwwwwwww!" But then it touched the sweet spot and relief washed over me. "Ahhhhhhhhhh." "That's it dear. Now just ride it up and down." "Oooooo, yesssss." It was heaven, shear heaven. That's when I noticed the video camera on the tripod, pointed at me, and her behind it, smiling with what looked like pride. Behind her was a mirror and there I was, a boy-girl, lips red with lipstick, legs covered in nylon, black heels on my feet. I watched myself ride up and down on that huge black piece of rubber. The motion of me riding ride up and down was supremely female. That thing entering me, receding, then entering, disappearing completely into my opening, my flesh, was feminine in the extreme. The male sexual experience was to penetrate. I was willingly, ecstatically, being penetrated. And I liked the way it looked and I liked the way it felt, so full, a lovely pressure inside my pelvis, like it fit there, like I was designed to have that phallus up in me, making me feel so warm, so good, so satisfied. I was fucked in more ways than one. I came, a sensation so powerful it hurt, racking my body, all that sexual energy passing through me, then leaving me drained. I screamed, I think, several times. Then I passed out. Chapter Five I woke on a soft bed, a lacy pillow under my head. I was wearing a pink satin baby doll night gown. She was sitting in a chair next to my bed, blood red lips smiling at me. "Did you enjoy yourself?" she asked. "Why are you doing this?" I asked weakly, feeling like crying. "It's long story dear, I will tell you one day, but for now you have to be going home. You're parents will be worried." "Home. You're letting me go home? I thought I was being kidnapped." "Not at all, sweety. You're free to go." "Really? Aren't you scared I'll call the cops?" She took a black remote control from a table and clicked it. Across the room a large TV screen popped on and there I was, impaling myself, moaning, my face rapt in ecstasy, lips red, black pumps very shiny, nylons making my legs look very sexy. I was clearly enjoying myself. "Look at that sexy sissy," she said. I couldn't speak. "Nobody is forcing her to do anything. Looks to me like a young man exploring his sexuality all of his own free will, wouldn't you say?" "Oh my god." "So you will behave, little one. This will be much more enjoyable for the both of us if you cooperate. If you don't then I'll just inject you full of hypnotic drugs and completely wipe out your personality. I'd rather not do that, so now I'm merely blackmailing you. Isn't that nice of me?" "You're just so kind." "That's the kind of spunkiness I'd like to not erase. My mind drugs do tend to be damaging when over used." "We wouldn't want that." "No we wouldn't, now here are my instructions for the evening..." ------- I couldn't believe what I was about to do, but I had to. If I didn't follow orders, that video tape of me was going to be sent to everyone I knew, my teachers, my friends, even my grandparents. So, wearing my boy clothes and hating it and hating myself for hating looking like a boy, I helped my mother with dinner. Normally refusing to help with anything around the house, she was pleasantly surprised when I offered to help. Her back was turned. I sighed, hesitated, mustered up my courage, and dumped the potion into the mashed potatoes. I stirred it in. ------- Gulp. Dad ate some potatoes. Gulp. Mom had some with a little gravy. Gulp. Big sis ate some. The dinner conversation died. They began eating slower. Then they stopped and stared straight ahead. I wanted to tell them to run away, to go hide somewhere, but I couldn't. I felt powerless, and I wasn't even under the spell of her drugs. I went to the front door and opened it. She was there, waiting. "You look so horrible in boy clothes," she said. "How ugly. How pathetic." "Thanks so much, but I am a boy you know." "Not for long. Are they ready?" she asked with a smile. "Yes." "Good," she said and walked past me into the house. "What a nice family," she said as she summed up my zombie-like clan. "Thanks," I said bitterly. "Get their attention and then read them this," she said and handed me a piece of paper. I glanced at the page and couldn't believe what it said. How could I ever tell my family these things? "Do I have to?" I asked, knowing the answer, my heart in my throat, tears in my eyes. "No. I can show them the tape if you like. It would accomplish the same task." "Alright, alright." "Good. You must remember that I'm trying to make things easy on you. Now, address them in a loud firm voice." "Uh, Mom." She looked at me. "Dad." Then he. "Sally." Then my sister. "I have something to tell you," I said as I read off the paper. "Read," said Mistress forcefully. "I feel, as if, I'm really, I mean, I can't do this." Anger sparked in Mistress' eyes. "You have one more chance, then I take more drastic measures. I'll have your father in panties and you mother and sister in a torrid lesbian affair. Is that what you want?" "No, please, no." "Then continue. My patience is wearing thin." I read on... "I feel I'm a girl trapped in a boy's body. I feel...like I wasn't meant to be a boy. I've always wanted to wear lacy girlish things. Mother..., oh lord..." "Go on dear," Mistress said. "Mother, I'd like you, and Sally, to help teach me about being a girl. I want you to help me dress and walk and act. I'll need lots of practice. Please help me become a girl. Father I hope you accept me as your new daughter. I wasn't much of a son anyway..." That's when a tear rolled down my cheek. "...anyway, I hope you accept me as I accept my femininity. One day, I hope you give me away at my wedding, and then dance with me at the reception. "My wish is to begin my transition now. I wish to withdraw from school, then re-enter later as a girl, using my chosen name...Nancy. We have a lot of work to do, so Mom, if we could start tonight, I'd appreciate it. Thank you all. I love you." The mistress applauded. "Very good sweety. I especially liked the tears, a nice girlish touch. Now we just need to put things in motion." Her voice became loud, commanding. "Listen to me!" My family looked at her, calmly, not even aware that she had been in the room until now. "You have all heard what Nancy had to say. You will accept it and you will accept her. She is your special child and all you want is what is what's best for her. She needs, more than anything, to be a girl. At times, the process might seem painful, for you and for her. In fact, she might resist. If she does you will punish her. You must be very strict with her. If she acts or dresses at all like a boy, you will spank her with either your hand or a belt. The mission of this family from here on out will be to make sure Nancy becomes the girl of her dreams. Am I understood?" "Yes," my family said together in an eerie monotone. "Oh, and one last thing, since Nancy gave me a little trouble earlier, I need to teach her a lesson about my powers." "Please, I'm sorry, please don't," I begged. "Too late little girl. You need a lesson." She walked over to my father and spoke right into his ear. "Mr. Smith, you will be especially understanding of Nancy's dilemma because you have always longed to wear women's clothes..." "No!" I shouted, but she shot me an evil look that shut me right up. She continued. "You want to wear panties and girlish things. Wearing such things turns you on so much. And Ms. Smith..." She looked at my mother. "Nothing turns you on more than the thought of your husband wearing lovely feminine things. For now on, dressing him up will be part of your bedroom play. There that should do it." "Why, Mistress, why did you do that?" "Because you need to know what I can do. Now if you give me any problems, not only will I send out several hundred copies of that tape, but I will turn your father into a woman as well, in fact, I'll turn him into a horny slut, walking the streets, giving blow jobs for money. Now, is that what you want?" "No Mistress. I'll do what you want, just please leave my family alone." "Good girl. After I leave, they'll wake up and help in your transformation. Cooperate with them. I'd hate for your dad to use the belt on you because you insisted on acting like a boy." "Yes Mistress." "So I'll see you tomorrow. I'll instruct your mother to drop you off at my house instead of school. She has to work during the day and won't be able to train you properly. Understand?" I couldn't say anything. I just cried, letting the tears roll down my cheeks without shame. "Good girl. You have a good cry. Have a nice evening." And with that she walked out and slammed the door. I quietly sat down at the dinner table. I could see the trance lift almost immediately. My father spoke first. "Well, son, I understand, we'll help you any way we can." "Oh dear," said mom, tears welling in her eyes. "I've always wanted another daughter." "Cool, said Sally. "This is going to be so much fun! A sister! Finally! We can shopping at the mall, and go dancing, to the beach. We'll be best friends!" "You girls should get started," Dad said. "Yes we should get you in some proper clothes right away," Mom said. "Yeah!" Sally said. "I have just the outfit." I tried to protest. "No really. We don't have to start right now." "Son, uh, Nancy," Dad said rather sternly. "It's for the best if you begin right now. Now go upstairs with you mother and sister. I'll wash the dishes." He had never, ever, in his life offered to do the dishes. He had changed and didn't even know it. "Yes, let's go upstairs," Mom said. "Daddy, there's a nice lacy apron in the pantry for you to wear." She winked and my dad, the most macho guy I could imagine, smiled and winked back. He was actually happy about the wearing a lacy apron. I became very impressed with the Mistress and her power. Mom got up, took my hand, and pulled me along. Sally followed. "Cool!' she said. ------- We were upstairs in my room, surrounded by all my boy things, my Star Wars posters, my sports trophies, my heavy metal album covers. "This is no room for a girl," Mom said. "Yeah, it's like really gross," Sally said. "It's alright," I said. "You don't have to change things yet." I didn't even agree with myself. I hated the way my room looked now. I longed for more feminine things. But I also knew it was trick, that I needed to somehow fight all these influences. I was boy, but I didn't feel very much like a boy, and now my family didn't want me to be a boy either. I had lost control of my identity and had to get it back. But how? Mother told me to undress. "Mom, please, I can't, at least not with Sally here." "Oh come on!" Sally said. "Nancy dear," Mom said. "You and she are sisters now and you're going to have to get used to it. You have nothing to be embarrassed about. Now strip." "No," I said and crossed my arms. I wasn't going to give in. Then mom grabbed me and threw me over her knee. I couldn't believe how strong she was. Why were all the women in my life suddenly so powerful? It was another brain trick courtesy of the Mistress. I couldn't even out wrestle my mother as she held me down and swatted my rear end. Slap! Slap! "Owwww!" Slap! "Owwwwww!" It really did sting. "Now," she said. "Are you going to behave?" I felt like crying but I wasn't going to. I knew it was just part of the Mistress' programming to be soft and emotional and I wasn't going to give into it. "Yes, I'll behave." "Then stand up and get undressed." I stood and slowly unbutton my shirt. "It's alright to cry you know," said Sally, who seemed to really be enjoying this. "You're a girl now. It's okay to cry." "I don't want to!" Tears rolled down my cheeks and there was nothing I could do. I was crying like a baby girl. "Oh sweety, this has been so hard you," Mom said. "Don't worry, we'll help you though it." "Yeah sis," Sally said, actually sounding kind of sorry for me. "We'll have fun. You'll see." They were trying to be nice, but they didn't know that everything they were doing was erasing the old me. How could I tell them? How would they ever believe me? Mother unbuttoned my shirt. I took it off. I was tired of fighting, at least for the time being. Sally was dying to dress me up in some of her outfits, but mom said it would be best if I got a good night's sleep. So instead they dressed me in pink silky panties and a pink satin nightgown trimmed in lace and with a low neck line. It went down to just the top of my thighs. Needless to say, I felt a little exposed. "Nice legs!" Sally said. "Have you been shaving them?" The Mistress had, but I couldn't say that now could I? "Yes," I said and blushed. "Well, you did a wonderful job, dear," Mom said. "You have lovely legs." I blushed even more. I couldn't stand that my mother was telling me how pretty I was. Just a week ago I was trying to impress her with academics and college acceptance letters. Now she only noticed my legs. She changed my football team sheets to pink flowery ones. She sprayed a touch of perfume over the bed. "So you'll sleep like my baby girl," she said. She tucked me in, kissed me on the cheek and left my room, leaving me smelling like a girl, in girlish sheets, in a sexy nightgown. The whole thing seemed absurd and I laughed a bit, then cried some more. I was crying a lot and starting not to care. Might as well shed the tears now, I thought, with no one watching. I felt my impotent little thing through my panties and felt, in spite of myself, suddenly, quite better. It didn't get hard, but it did make me feel all warm and fuzzy. A sense of well being swept over me and suddenly my new smell and new nightgown felt good. I knew that giving into that feeling would be my defeat, but just for that night, just to help me sleep and muster enough strength to face the next day, I indulged a bit in that wonderful sensual feeling, swearing to myself that I would fight it again tomorrow. I dozed off. Chapter Six "Wake up, Nancy!" I woke with a start, surprised to see my smiling mother hovering over me. "Did you sleep well?" "Yes, I guess so." "Well good. Time to get up and change your clothes. I've already removed all your boy clothes. It's best that they're not around. They might tempt you to go back and we don't want that do we?" "Mom, I really think maybe we're going too fast." "Now dear, you know this is what's right. I don't want you lying to yourself anymore. You were very brave to tell us that you want to be a girl and now we're going to be brave and help you over the rough spots." "Mom, really, I..." "Enough Nancy! I don't to have to spank you again. Now, Sally has been nice enough to give you some of her clothes. You two are about the same size, which is convenient. I know you'll want your own clothes, but for now a few hand-me-downs will serve us well. She's laid out quite a nice outfit for you on your dresser, so get up, get a shower and get dressed. And be quick. We've got a lot to do today." She kissed my forehead and left the room, leaving me more bewildered than ever. I got up and felt chills all over as my satin nightgown seemed to caress me. I swooned a bit, not expecting such a sensual wake-up call. I felt so good, so sexy. "You're a boy!" I told myself, hoping my mother didn't hear. I looked in the mirror above my dresser and saw what still looked like a boy, though a very androgenous one. The nightgown gave me a feminine shape, but my shoulder were still a bit squared for a girl. I took some comfort in that. And my face was still mine, but somehow it was prettier. My lips seemed fuller, my eyes a bit bigger. What was going on? I looked like me, but something had changed. "Just one of her tricks," I told myself. "Just more mind games." I looked in the mirror and told myself, "You are a boy. You are male." But I said it in a voice that I swear was higher and more feminine. "Nancy!" yelled my mother. "Don't dawdle! Get dressed and get down here!" I showered as quick as I could. Mom had taken the soap out of the bathroom and replaced with a liquid skin cleanser that had a flowery smell and promised to make my skin "soft and delicate." It smelled good, feminine, but very good. "Stop enjoying this," I told myself. The outfit Sally had laid out for me must have been her idea of a joke. "Mom!" I yelled. She was up the stairs and in my room in a flash. I was stark naked and she didn't even care. I covered myself and blushed. "What's the matter dear?" she asked. "I can't wear this stuff," I said. "Why dear? It's one of Sally's favorite outfits." "It's too...sexy." "Oh dear, that's how all the girls your age are dressing this year. You'll be lovely." "But Mom, really I..." "Nancy! I don't have time to debate with you. As we develop your wardrobe, if you want a more conservative look, then that's fine. But for now, wear what your given. You have to get used to the fact that girls' clothes are a bit more revealing than boys' clothes. That's just the way it is. Now get dressed!" She stood there. "Could you leave?" I asked. "I want to make sure you know how to put on your bra and stockings." "I do, alright?" "Then go ahead Ms. Smartypants. Get dressed. Panties first." I just looked at her. "I'm waiting," she said. It was no use protesting. I put on the white satin panties. "Your little thing still pokes through," Mom said. "We'll have to get some tape or something for it when you wear slacks or a bathing suit." I couldn't even respond to that. I picked up the bra, put my arms in the loops and tried to snap it in the back. "Here let me," she said, and hooked it. I felt my shoulders being pulled back. I felt taller, straighter, and I could feel my chest being thrust out. "A training bra will do for now," Mom said. "But we still need to give you some development. We'll get some breast forms this week, but for now..." She plucked a handful of tissues from a box on the dresser and stuffed my bra. "There, pretty girl," she said. "You now have perky breasts!" "Great." "Oh don't worry dear, you'll have your own real breasts one day. Now the stockings." I slid on a pair of white leotards that, I had to admit, felt great on my legs. "You do have nice legs," she said. Then I put on the blouse, fumbling with buttons that seemed like they were on the wrong side. The blouse was a thick red satin with black lace trim on the short sleeves and on the Peter Pan collar. I didn't mind the blouse so much. It was the skirt I didn't like. It was a pleated black plaid skirt that barely went below my rear. It was the kind of skirt girls in private school wear except this one was a bit tighter. "Adorable!" Mom said. "Oh please mom," I said. "This is too revealing!" "Nonsense," she said. "You look stunning. You'll have every boys' eye." "I don't want every boys' eye!" "You will dear, you will. You're a new girl and you'll have to learn about your new role. But eventually, you will discover boys." "But I'm a boy!" "Not anymore dear. Inside you're all girl. I've always known it. There's always been something different about you." "Mom, you really think so? Didn't you like me as a boy?" "Honey, you're my child and I will always love you no matter what lifestyle choices you make. But what's important to me is that I think you like yourself better as a girl than boy. Just look at yourself in these pretty clothes. You're absolutely glowing." I looked in the mirror and sure enough I did look pretty. My short boyish hair did little to offset the rest of me which looked liked nothing other than youthful femininity. My short hair somehow even looked stylish. More tears came. I started blubbering. I loved the way I looked but I didn't want to. I was boy, but I loved looking like a girl. What was I to do? I hugged my mother and cried on her shoulder. "There, there, dear" she said. "You'll get through this. I know this must be strange for you, being your true self for the first time." "Yes mom, this is very strange." I hugged her for a while, then when I finally felt like I wasn't going to cry any more (God I was crying a lot! I really was a sissy!) I let her go and she handed me a pair of black patent leather mary janes with three-inch heels. These were a little girls' shoes with an adult attitude. "Aren't these precious?" she asked. "They're nice I suppose," I said. I did have a high-heel fetish after all. I slipped them on and mom buckled the straps that went over my arches. I thought they looked terrific with the white leotards. I just couldn't believe they were my feet, looking so much like the sexy feminine feet I'd worshipped all my life. "Very nice," Mom said. Then came make-up, which she used sparingly, just some eye liner, a little mascara and some dark red lipstick. "You're lips are so full, Nancy," she said. "Perfect little Cupid bows! I'd have to pay a surgeon $5,000 for lips like yours." "Alright mom, you're making me feel all weird." "You better get used to complements, pretty girl." Then she slid a dark brown page boy wig on my head. It reached down to my shoulder and felt kind of heavy on my head. It was a pleasant kind of weight though, and I rather lied the feeling of the bangs just above my eyes. "Stunning," she said. "Just stunning." And as she stared at me she seemed, well, stunned. "Look at yourself," she said. I turned and looked into the mirror. It was my turned to be stunned. The boy I once was seemed to be all gone. Where was he? He wasn't in those big flirtatious eyes. He wasn't in those red, plump, pouty lips. He wasn't underneath that gorgeous shiny black hair, not in that face, attached to those breasts, standing on those shapely legs or wearing those sexy shoes. Where was he? "Welcome to the world Nancy," Mom said. I couldn't take my eyes off myself. Chapter Seven "You look adorable!" said the Mistress when she saw me. My mom was dropping me off for the day. She thought the Mistress was a "special tutor," which was true enough I guess. The Mistress gave me a polite hug and kissed me softly on my cheek. "What do you say dear?" asked mother. "Thank you Mistress." "You're quite welcome dear. Ms. Smith, you've done a wonderful job! Now you let me tend to the more mundane lessons of girlhood training. We'll have Nancy back in school in just a few weeks." "That's wonderful, Ms. Domin. Thank you for all your advice. I know I'm leaving Nancy in good hands." "Yes you are. Perhaps your husband would like to come by some time for a lesson or two?" "Yes, he'd love that! He just loves wearing frilly things to bed and I'd bet he'd like to experience more of the feminine world, but I just don't have time to teach him." "Leave it to me Ms. Smith. Leave it to me. Now inside with you Nancy, we've much work to do." ------ "You do look ravishing, dear," she said once inside the door. She locked it, then embraced me from behind, gently kissing my neck. It felt sooooo good. I just stood there, not really knowing what to do. I hated this woman, but I was hopelessly infatuated with her. She was stealing my identity, for no other reason than she wanted to, but I was slipping easily into the new identity she was giving me. Her hands roamed over my "breasts" and thighs and buttocks. Her tongue swirled in my ear, sending tingles down to my toes and back. "Look at us, darling," she said. The floor-to-ceiling mirror reflected what looked like a sexy 30-year-old black-clad seductress fondling a pretty teenage girl. The Mistress, with her pale white skin and blood red lips, looked like a vampire about to suck the blood of an innocent virgin. And what a beautiful virgin. I was far more attractive as a girl than I ever was as a boy. If my little thing still worked, I would have got stiff just looking at me, budding breasts covered in red satin, curvy hips hugged by a mini skirt, thin legs clad in white nylon, black heels lengthening my legs and rounding my ass. My eyes were half open, lips slightly parted as the Mistress' petting pushed me into a state of desire. "Look at you," she whispered. "Look at that sexy girl." She reached down to my crotch and gently rubbed my limp little thing. "You're so sexy, little girl. Can't you feel how powerful you could become?" She ran her nails up my shaved legs. "Can you imagine what a horny boy would do just to touch these legs?" She squeezed my ass. "A boy would make a fool of himself just to get a good look at this tight little ass of yours." She cupped my breasts. "Sucking on perky tits like these is what every boy dreams of." She slid around to my front, embracing me tightly, her pelvis gently grinding against mine. "And what would a boy give up just for a kiss?" She kissed me, gently at first, then harder. I put my arms around her and held tight, feeling the heat from her, the hardness of her. Her tongue slipped into my mouth. What a sight we were, these two beautiful female creatures necking like a couple on prom night. Her hand slipped down to my crotch and, with one finger, gently rubbed my limp member. It was like she was generating electricity down there. Tingles and shocks danced up and down my spine. Then she abruptly broke our kiss, reached down and without any effort picked me up and carried me in her arms like a husband carrying his bride. Feeling so weak, so helpless and so horny, I put my arms around her neck and snuggled in her soft, fragrant hair. She carried me to her bedroom and gently placed me on her huge bed. It was covered with a red velvet blanket that felt like heaven. She went to a drawer and pulled out a strap-on dildo. "I've got bigger ones little girl," she said. "But this one will do for a start." She pulled off her skirt and calmly strapped it on. The pink plastic penis jutted out from her groin, looking out of place, erotic and profane. She took a small black satchel out of a drawer then walked to the bed with an almost macho swagger. "Are you ready for me, pretty girl?" "I don't know Mistress," I whimpered. I was terrified of her and terrified of how I felt. I was a boy, but after holding her and kissing her all I knew was that I wanted her and I wanted her to fuck me with that thing. "I think you are, little one." She got on the bed and slid to me, over me, positioned herself between my thighs, the phallus pressing into my thing. She reached down, flipped up my skirt, then dug her claws into my leotards, ripping out the crotch. "Don't worry about your pretty tights, little girl. I'll get you new ones." She grabbed my knees and lifted them until my shoes were just above my head. She looked huge towering above me, a huge woman, full of strength and passion and will. She took a tube out of the bag and slathered KY on my hole, then positioned the head of her penis right in my rose bud. "Do you want me?" A few tears leaked from my eyes. I didn't want this to happen. Why was this happening to me? Why was I on my back with my legs spread, my ass ready to be violated? And why did I want this to happen so much? "Yes Mistress," I said. "I want you very much." "Good girl. That's my good girl. I want you to enjoy this. I want you to love this." She slowly slid it in about and inch. It hurt so much. "OOoooooo! It hurts!" "Yes, I know, dear. It will pass. Just relax." Another inch. I felt like I was being split open. "Easy, girl, easy. Relax. Listen to me. Take it in you. It's what you're made for. Savor this feeling." She slid it all the way in. "OOOOOOOOO!" "Shhhhh, pretty girl. Feel how wonderful it is." She took an eye dropper out of the satchel and dropped a few drops of a potion in my mouth. I felt better almost immediately. "You love this." No other thought entered in my mind. "I love this." "You love me." "I love you." "I want you to be happy. I want you to love your new life as a girl. You love being a girl." "I love being a girl." "Good girl. That's my pretty girl." She began pumping, faster, then faster. "You love this. You love being fucked." "Oooo yesssss Mistress I love being fucked." "The come for me, pretty girl, cum while I'm in you fucking you." It went in a wave from my ass then through my body. I bucked and moaned and everything inside me seemed to join in one joyous explosion. "That was lesson one in how to be a girl," she said. I passed out. Chapter Eight The next two weeks were so strange. At home, Mom taught me everything about being a good girl, how to sit, how to walk, how to get in and out of a car while wearing a short skirt. I became demure and dainty. Mother said that while most girls could display some masculine traits, they could get a way with it because they would always be girls no matter how they walked or talked or dressed. She said that I, however, could not afford the luxury of a masculine thought or action. She said I'd have to be all girl or the boy in me would always cause me heartache. I thought she had been spending too much time with the Mistress. She had Mom so obsessed with me becoming girlish that she even taught me how to throw a ball like a girl. We went into the backyard and Mom and I practiced for hours, getting me to throw with a limp wrist and a dainty swish of the hips. Perhaps the most embarrassing part of my home lessons were the dance lessons with my father. It was bad enough that I had to endure being in my father's arms while he called me "pretty girl" and "kitten," but sometimes Mom would have him demonstrate how to dance gracefully in high heels. He always blushed a bit, but then he'd put in the 4-inch heels and we'd waltz around the room, the men in the family teetering on stiletto heels while the women watched and applauded. So, while I was learning to be a good girl at home, I'd was spending a few days a week with Mistress, learning how to be a very bad girl. I'd spend all day, dangling between pleasure and pain, the Mistress using my body in so many different ways. She taught me how to pleasure her with my tongue and fingers. She taught me how men liked to be touched. She taught