Sheila's New Girly free porn video

SHEILA'S NEW GIRLY A story by Satinmaid under the direction of Mistress Lisa. This is pure fiction, blah blah blah, don't even read this bit (let alone the story) if you're under twenty one, blah blah blah if you're offended by the subject matter then you really should have left this site several pages ago. ----- I'm not sure how exactly how I managed to offend my two flatmates enough for them to take what I had said as a challenge but somehow I did. I had recently graduated from University. One of my housemates, Denise, had graduated at the same time as I. The other person sharing the flat had graduated the year before. Her name was Sheila and she was now a qualified nurse. My degree was in computers and Denise's was in psychology. Several months ago, Sheila had become a nurse in a private clinic. She'd not said much about the place as it was a special sort of place and patient confidentiality was taken even more seriously than usual. Denise and I had been pressing her about the place with no success until this evening. We'd shared two bottles of wine between us before we had eaten so we were all a bit giggly and very relaxed. It was a cold Sunday evening so we had the gas fire on and were all wrapped up in warm, fluffy jumpers which Denise had bought for the three of us when she was in a silly mood and thought it would be fun if we wore the same jumper. They were dark purple, thick and woolly and slightly fitted but not even slightly feminine-looking - very definitely unisex or I wouldn't have worn it. As it was it turned out to be warm, comfy and actually quite amusing to see all three of us wearing the same jumper. Obviously, for me, it was even nicer to see how well the jumpers clung to Denise and Sheila's figures. The three of us, on that first drunken night we wore them made a pact that we would all wear them while we were together in the house if one of us wanted to. Like I said, I liked seeing their curves in the jumpers, I suggested them often. I don't remember what was said but Sheila had responded with, "One of our patients said the same thing happened to him the other day." Then she clapped her hands over her mouth and quickly tried to change the subject. This was the first she'd mentioned of any of her patients although she had talked about her colleagues. Sensing a chance to find out more about this clinic Denise and I began to press her for more information, giggling, joking and making ridiculous excuses about why she should tell us as she tried not to answer. Finally, with her sides aching from laughing so much and tears literally running down my face, she gave in. "Okay," she giggled, "I can see that you two are going to make my life hell until I tell you what we do at the clinic." She caught her breath, finished her glass of wine and said "Gender reassignment." I just looked confused, having never heard the term before. Denise knew something of the subject, having studied it for a while on her psychology course and asked a few intelligent questions about it. Now that Sheila had given in and told us where she worked, she seemed quite happy to talk about it as long as we didn't ask specific questions about customers. Through these general answers to Denise's questions, I quickly realised that 'Gender Reassignment' was a fancy name for a sex-change. Or rather, a general term for any medical ways of becoming more like the opposite sex, even if that did not include an actual sex-change operation. Somewhere in the conversation, Sheila said that we would be surprised to hear how many of their patients were being forced into becoming more feminine as a punishment by their wives, girlfriends or mothers. "Bollocks!" I stated, "how could a woman force a man into becoming more feminine? Those faggots probably want to be women and being forced into it is all a play-act." "Oh, they are forced, there's no doubt about that. They aren't the ones having a full sex change or anything but they are forced to have their legs waxed or eyebrows plucked or slight hormone therapy or sometimes even breast implants. Most of them seem extremely unhappy about it, but are resigned to it. They aren't given the choice by whoever is feminising them." "Yeah, right, like they're held at gunpoint or something and ordered to eat hormone pills. I don't think so. There's no way any real man would let that happen if he didn't really want it to happen." Denise seemed to get angry at this. I was stunned as she spewed forth a mini rant on something called 'petticoat punishment' which she had studied as part of the gender section of her degree. She basically shouted me down, accusing me of macho male arrogance for thinking that a mere woman would not be able to force her will on a big strong man (macho, arrogant, big and strong did not really apply to me, by the way, Denise could be a bit of a passionate feminist sometimes). Suddenly as I was trying to explain that I had not meant it like that, that I had only meant that if the men hated it that much they would leave or refuse or something when Sheila joined in and I was suddenly on the defensive in an argument with two women who I seemed to have inadvertently offended. Flustered, I couldn't find the words I wanted to say to explain myself and managed to make things even worse when I jokingly said, "Well I can't believe that any women want their men more feminine. I thought women wanted to be men, not make men be women. I've heard of penis envy but never vagina envy." I really had meant that as a sort of joke, trying to ease the tension, I often joked with Denise about her being a feminist, I'd hoped that this time a joke would calm everyone down. Not so. Denise looked like she was almost crying with disappointment at what a chauvinist pig I had turned out to be and Sheila was angry. I found myself apologising profusely, still not managing to defend myself and therefore in the position of seeming to apologise for what they thought I had done instead explaining myself and the three of us laughing at the silly misunderstanding. "So," glared Sheila, "what you're saying is that only a faggot would let himself be forced into being more feminine and that any real man would stop it happening. In other words, if I could make you more feminine it would mean that you are a sissy little boy-girl who wants to be feminine anyway?" "Well, no, because I wouldn't be more feminine because I don't want to be. I'm a man..." I was going to finish the sentence, 'and I like being a man so I wouldn't do anything to make myself more feminine would I?' when Denise sobbingly broke in, "Yes, you're a man, and we are only women, no threat to you, O Lord and Master. For your information the textbooks I read gave cases where men had been completely forced into accepting a female role in life against their will. Don't tell me it couldn't happen to you." I started apologising again, trying to explain what I would have said if I'd been allowed to finish. By this time both women were extremely upset with me and I was in a bit of a state as well, having offended my two closest friends. Sheila waved my protests down, "Okay macho-man. I bet I could force you to look more feminine and come to the clinic while I'm working. I could do it without any of the things our patients go through. I wouldn't have to throw all your male clothes away, I wouldn't have to trick you into girl's clothes then take pictures and blackmail you with them. You would have a choice of not going to the clinic while you look feminine but you would do it anyway because I chose for you to. What do you say? Brave enough to bet me?" "What?" I meant it just as a general incredulous kind of 'what?'. Denise seemed to hear it as me asking what the stakes in the bet were to be. "What? Well I've got an idea. I saw a lovely skirt the other day that would go a treat with these jumpers. If Sheila and I can force you to be more feminine for just one day, and make you go to the clinic while you look feminine, then I'll buy three of those skirts and we'll all wear them whenever we wear these jumpers. The skirts will be added to the pact and we'll have to wear them any time one of us wants to." Sheila clapped her hands in joy, nearly squealing at the idea, "and if you win, and we can't force you to become more feminine then we will be your maids for a month. We will curtsey, call you sir and bow and scrape before the mighty male presence who us two poor, feeble women could not outwit." "But " "I know, you think it's not fair that you get so much if you win, when you're sure you will win. I'm pretty confident that we can win. If you're that worried about it then agree and we'll think about it for a while and either try it or forget all about it." Forgetting all about it was exactly what I wanted. I was glad that they had thought of that, I was sure that given a chance to calm down they would see that I had not meant any offence and that there had been misunderstandings all round. "Well " "Oh, I see," barked Denise, scathingly, "big strong man all scared now, thinks he might have been a bit hasty, thinks the women might actually be able to feminise him. Coward. Like most men. So scared of women, can't imagine anything worse than being more like them can you?" She got up and stormed off to bed. Sheila glared at me. "So? What's your answer? Have you got the guts to challenge us or not." "I liked your idea of sleeping on it, Sheila. Why don't we both go to bed and calm down as well? Forget about it." She shrugged, "Okay, I guess you're right." "Sorry," I said, "I didn't mean to upset you both, you know I love you both very much don't you?" "Yeah, sorry I flew off the handle a bit there, there was no need for me to be quite so nasty about it, I could feminise you without being rude." She grinned her cheeky grin and relief washed over me, she must have realised what had happened and was trying to be jokey about it. I laughed at her comment and the two of us headed upstairs to our bedrooms. Lying in bed I thought about what they had said and determined to be extra nice to them for a couple of days to make up for upsetting them, even if I had done it without meaning to. The next morning when I awoke, Sheila had already left for work, she was pulling 12 hour shifts at the moment but the money was going to allow her to buy a new car soon. Neither myself or Denise had jobs yet, we'd both worked for a while at weekends and so on had decided we both had enough money to not bother working for a while. My parents had emigrated to Australia just after I started university and had left me several thousand pounds so I was okay for a couple more months. I'd start looking for a job in the New Year. When Denise came downstairs I had made her breakfast and tea and had it ready for her on the table. She apologised for what she had said last night, realising that my words had not come out how I meant them. We put it down to the bottles of wine and tiredness and agreed to forget about it. Friends again, we ate breakfast, did a bit of shopping, looked together in the library and relaxed in the living room, reading and listening to music. Sheila was really tired when she arrived back home and went straight to bed, stopping only for a brief, yawn-punctuated chat with us before she went. She didn't seem angry with me at all and a nagging worry that had been with me all day vanished. Last night's incident had been forgotten about and we were back to normal. I was so happy. It was three weeks later when I found out that it hadn't been forgotten. At least, it hadn't been forgotten by Sheila. It was a Saturday night and Denise was out with a few friends who had been on her course. I was alone, reading in the living room when Sheila came in. She had finished the long shifts for a while and was relaxing on her first free Saturday night for a while. She entered the room, threw some papers on the coffee table and sat herself down next to me with two glasses of wine, one of which she handed to me. "Down in one," she said and grinning, the two of us swallowed the glasses of wine. She left and returned with the rest of the bottle, refreshed both our glasses and sat back down beside me, "So," she indicated the papers on the table, "can I seduce you into being more feminine then?" I laughed as she put her arm round my shoulder and ruffled my hair. I glanced at the papers, "Sorry, not in the mood tonight. Don't mind the seducing part but I'll give the 'more feminine' part a miss if it's all the same to you. What are they?" "Oh, applications for leg waxing and so on at the clinic. I thought I might be able to make you fill one in." "By seducing me?" I laughed, enjoying her joke. "Mmm-hmm." She leaned forward and kissed me gently on the lips. I froze. I fancied her but considered her a good friend and had never dared find out whether she was interested in being kissing friends. She saw my hesitation and kissed me again. This time I managed to respond but was still unsure of how far she wanted to go so basically I let her control the kiss. In pretty short order she was tipping my head back, kneeling on the sofa leaning over me, kissing me passionately. Then she stopped and with a grin handed me a pen and waved at the papers I began to laugh along with her, glad that she was not still annoyed by our argument. "Wow!" was all I could say for a moment. "Well, it hasn't made me want to wear a skirt but your kiss definitely made me lightheaded!" Feeling slightly dazed, I grinned happily at her. She kissed me again and by the time she had finished I was feeling almost punch-drunk. "I never knew it was possible to kiss that well," I mumbled, trying to see straight. "Oh, it wasn't the kiss that's making you lightheaded my dear girl, it was a tranquilliser from the clinic in the wine. Sweet dreams." I heard the doorbell ring and Sheila got up to answer it. I was fast asleep before she got out of the room. I awoke in my own bed the next morning with no real recollection of anything that had happened after our kiss. A bit fuzzy headed from the wine I'd drunk, I dozed for a few minutes before getting up. As I rolled over to get out of bed I felt a strange sensation over my whole body. It wasn't unpleasant, just one I'd never experienced before. Whipping back the covers I saw that the feeling was due to being encased in a long, dusky pink satin nightgown which had spaghetti straps, flared out from the waist and was bloused in front so it looked like I might have boobs underneath it. As I stood up I realised that the nightie was ankle length and remembered that my fuzzy headed feeling wasn't from the wine, it was from whatever had been in the wine. Sheila had drugged me and dressed me in this feminine nightie. Obviously it was something to do with our previous argument which I thought had been forgotten. I quickly discovered that all my male clothes had been locked away with padlocks and I was forced to leave my room still wearing the nightie as I had nothing on underneath it and nothing else to wear. I descended the stairs, having to grip the skirt of the nightie and lift it slightly as I went. Sheila wasn't in but Denise was sitting in the kitchen when I entered. She took one look at me and burst out laughing. "Sheila told me that she'd got you to wear something feminine after you had been drinking last night but I didn't realise it would be that feminine and you must have been drunk to go to bed without removing your makeup first." "Makeup!" I yelled, "she put makeup on me as well?" I rushed to try to look at my reflection in the window but couldn't see much. "I wasn't drunk, she used a tranquilliser from the clinic to put me to sleep and obviously did this while I was unconscious." "Well, she did warn you that she could make you feminine against your will." She grinned and sniggered, trying not to start laughing at me again. "You do look cute in that nightie though, are you wearing matching panties with it?" She tried to grab my skirt and lift it, in a joking way. As I moved away, her hand brushed against the front of the skirt and she could feel quite obviously that I was naked underneath it. I gasped, the sudden feeling of my manhood being touched gently through the satin material made it twitch and start to rise. The action of it rising made the tip brush against the material, making it even worse. I tried to cover it and think of something else but I'm sure Denise must have noticed even though I didn't get anywhere near a full hard-on. "Sheila left a note and a couple of keys for you, they're on the table there." "Thanks," I sat down to read the note. Dear Girly, I did warn you that I could force you be more feminine didn't I? I think you'll agree that I managed it, that you are feminine against your will and that there's nothing you can do about it. I don't know how long you've been up before reading this note but before long you'll realise that you can't stop me making you feminine, that you can't just run away from it like you insisted any 'real man' would do. Have a nice day, girly, I'll see you this afternoon and I think you'll be begging me to let you come see me at the clinic very soon, even if it does mean going in there looking feminine. Oh, my dear sweet girly, if only you knew the plans I have for you. Sheila. With the note were several keys, they appeared to be padlock keys, hopefully to let me gain access to my clothes. Maybe Sheila had already made her point and would let the whole thing lie now that she had humiliated me and proved me wrong. "I'm going upstairs to get changed out of this horrible nightie." "It's not horrible, it's actually a very beautiful garment. You should feel lucky." "Hah." "Don't forget to wash your makeup off," she laughed, "unless you think it makes you look cute as well." I stuck my tongue out at her, grabbed the keys and went upstairs. The first thing I did was to check that I could open the padlocks and that I still had male clothes. With relief I found that I could and did. I laid out jeans, T-shirt, socks and underpants on the bed and decided that I should have a shower to get rid of the makeup first. Still wearing only the nightie I went into the bathroom, locked the door and switched the shower on. I glanced at myself in the mirror, seeing my made-up face, my hair messed up from sleeping and the top of the nightie on me. I laughed briefly, impressed at the audacity of Sheila's actions. I'd have to think up a really good practical joke to get her back sometime. I discarded the nightie and climbed under the hot water of the shower. As the water hit me I realised that it felt a lot different to how it usually felt as it ran down my legs, it felt a lot nicer. Looking down, I almost yelled in surprise when I saw that there was not a single hair left on my body apart from my groin. Grumbling to myself and getting annoyed about what Sheila had done to me I grabbed the shower gel and scrubbed my face to get rid of the makeup. I washed my hair and the rest of my body, surprised at how nice it felt to be smooth and hairless. When I'd finished and calmed down a bit due to the action of the hot water from the power shower I climbed out and dried myself off. By the time I had rubbed my hair mostly dry with a towel the mist had cleared from the mirrors and I looked to make sure that I had removed all traces of the makeup. I almost fainted. My lips were still bright pink, my eyes were still lined with deep black, my eyelashes were still full and black and my eyelids still showed just as much pink eyeshadow as they had before the shower. Furiously I scrubbed my face with soap and water, with the flannel, desperately trying to remove the makeup and failing. I was almost in tears when I realised that it was definitely not coming off at all. Having brought nothing else in with me to wear I threw on the nightie and ran down the stairs almost sobbing and begging Denise to help me. Fortunately she was immediately sympathetic and rushed me up to her bedroom to sit at her vanity table while she tried various makeup removing creams and lotions on my face, all without any discernible result. I'm ashamed to admit that I burst into tears in frustration. Denise sat on the stool next to me, put her arm round my shoulder and cradled my head against her breast as she tried to comfort me. After a few minutes of her reassurances that whatever Sheila had done to me was probably just a sealing solution and she would let me have the removal solution when she got back, I stopped crying and hugged Denise hard, glad of such a good friend. Her hand which wasn't resting on my shoulder, fiddling with my nightie strap was on my thigh, unconsciously rubbing me and touching me through the material. It began to have an effect and, embarrassed I broke the embrace, not wanting to get a stiffy under the nightie. I thanked her for being so nice and went back into my bedroom to get dressed. I threw the hateful nightgown on the floor and climbed into my underpants, socks, jeans and T-shirt. I grabbed my hair dryer and hair brush and began to dry my hair. I hadn't had it cut for a while and it was about jaw length so I just brushed it through to make sure there were no knots and dried it, no need to style or anything. At least I thought I hadn't had it cut for a while. As I finished drying it, I ran my hand through it and glanced in the mirror as I turned to leave the room. It wasn't my normal hairstyle. My dark hair had been trimmed to a sort of shaggy bob style with cute bangs. It wasn't terribly feminine, certain types of men may have been able to get away with it or at least with a slightly less feminine but still very similar version of it. Unfortunately, in conjunction with the makeup, it made me look really girly. Bizarrely I didn't look a lot less feminine than I had when I'd been wearing the nightie. I was not at all pleased about Sheila cutting my hair but had been meaning to get it cut short again for a while. I could always get rid of this haircut quite easily and still end up with a style I wanted. I went back downstairs and Denise tried not to laugh again, she tried really hard, bless her, but the sight of me with seemingly indelible makeup on my face with a girlishly-boyish or boyishly-girly haircut was too much for her. She giggled a bit then was very apologetic, hugging me and saying she hadn't meant to laugh at me. By the time Sheila arrived back home, late that evening I had calmed down a lot, almost managing to see the funny side of it all after a day of friendly joking about my predicament from Denise. She had managed to convince me that Sheila had used some sort of sealant solution to stop the makeup coming off and all it would take was the right solution to remove the sealant so that I could finally be rid of the lipstick, eyeliner and eye shadow. She guessed that my eyelashes had been dyed and would take longer to wear off. While studying them, she also noticed that my eyebrows had been plucked and shaped. Somewhere during the day, Denise had convinced me that a good way to deal with it would be to make Sheila her favourite dinner, apologise for offending her, concede defeat, and hope she wouldn't take this any further. Sheila looked pleased and surprised when she walked in and saw a meal ready for her. She scrutinised my face and hair, smiling a strange, knowing smile. "Good evening, girly. Hi Denise." "Hi," responded Denise. "Hello Sheila," I blushingly answered in response to being called 'girly'. "Did you enjoy your day looking feminine? Does this mean that you are some sort of sissy faggot boy because you let me do that to you? Surely you would have stopped me if you didn't want it done. That can only mean that really, deep down, you want to be feminine like this." "Quit riding me Sheila, I admit I was wrong. Obviously I was as you forced me into this. I certainly don't want to be feminine. I believe you that men at the clinic are sometimes forced into it. So please can you give me whatever lotion it is I need to wash this makeup off? Please?" "Not so fast, girly. I seem to remember the bet being that if I made you feminine you would agree to wear a skirt every time we wear our jumpers." I said nothing, how on earth could I agree to that? "Well?" She raised her eyebrow. She made no effort to give me anything to remove the makeup. I hemmed and hawed, really not wanting to agree but scared of how long the makeup would last without the removal solution if I didn't. "Do I really have to? You've proved your point." "Well a deal's a deal." "Please don't do this ." no mercy, "Please? Okay, I agree." I hung my head in shame, I had just agreed to wear a skirt. Basically I would have to wear it whenever Sheila or Denise wanted to. In practice that would probably mean whenever they fancied a laugh at my expense. Denise laughed in delight at the idea and Sheila with a triumphant smile on her face said, "Great, you can come with us at the weekend so we can pick out the proper size for you." "But " "Well, do you know what skirt size you wear?" "Of course not!" "Then you'll have to be there, I'm sure the shop assistants will be very understanding when we explain why you need to try a skirt on." "No, I can't go out shopping for a skirt." "Well, we'll see." I decided to change the subject slightly, "So, I admitted I was wrong and you made me feminine so can I please have the solution to remove this makeup?" "What solution would that be then, girly?" "The one to get rid of whatever it was you used to seal this makeup on me." "There is no solution to get that makeup off." "But you said I could have it if I agreed to wear a skirt with the jumper." "I most certainly did not. I did not even say there was a solution to remove it. What on earth gave you the idea that there was?" "Well Denise said ..." "Denise was just guessing. Yes you can buy sealant solutions to make makeup stay on for 24 hours or so but I don't have anything to get your makeup off." I was annoyed by this but a day or two was not too bad I supposed. I couldn't say that I hadn't been well and truly got. Sheila had totally outwitted me and there was nothing I could do about it. She'd won, I was prepared to admit that, but I was less prepared to wear a skirt at home and even less prepared for what she was to tell me later that evening. We ate and I was starting to see the funny side of it all by the end of the evening. The two bottles of wine we shared between us again certainly helped my frame of mind. Denise was the first to go up to bed and Sheila and I were not far behind. Sheila grabbed me and kissed me roughly on the lips. Her hands slid round my body and I melted into her arms as she kissed me. "You really are very pretty with your hair like that and your make up," she said, smiling at me. Before I could respond she had grabbed me and started kissing me again. I'm sure she could feel my erection through my clothes. "Well," I tried to joke, "I hope you still like me in a day or two when this makeup wears off." "A day or two? Whatever gave you that idea? I wouldn't get your hopes up if I was you, girly." "Whaaa ...? What do you mean? What did you do to me? When will it wear off?" "Hard to say. It's the new craze. Tattooed makeup." I nearly fainted as she said these words, my knees went all weak and Sheila had to hold me to stop me falling over. "Tattooed?" Tears sprang to my eyes. "Yes, it's all the rage. Don't worry your pretty little head about it, girly. It's not permanent, the needles barely go into the skin. It'll wear off." She was grinning widely at this point, clearly enjoying my distress. "How .how long will it last?" "Anywhere between one and five years. One of my colleagues from the clinic came round last night and did it for you. Both of us used the cream to remove your body hair and dressed you in your pretty nightie for bed. I hope you like your new smooth body, the cream we used kills the hair roots so it'll be months before you need to depilate again and at least a year before you will need to reapply makeup. Isn't that great?!" "Years? What am I going to do? How could you?" Tears were actually dripping down my cheeks now, I'd never felt so vulnerable or helpless. There was no way I could immediately get my head round the fact that I might be wearing eyeliner and pink lipstick and eyeshadow for up to five years. I was still shocked as Sheila kissed me again, said, "Goodnight, girly, you can wear the nightie again if you want. You'll thank me for this one day," and went upstairs. Slowly I went up after her, head reeling with the thought of what she had done. I was still in denial I guess as I was trying to convince myself that she was joking or that there would be some way to remove the makeup. It's amazing what your brain can do, by the time I was snuggled up in bed and had calmed down a bit, I had managed to convince myself that Sheila was winding me up and that the makeup would wear off in a day or so. Surely she wouldn't actually have me tattooed against my will. I was just dozing off when I felt someone climb into bed with me. In the darkened room I could just tell that it was Sheila. She was wearing some sort of satin nightie as I could feel the material against my body. She put her arm round me and began to kiss me, her smooth feminine leg rubbing against mine through the material of her nightgown. Her fingernails circled my nipple and her tongue gently probed my mouth. I moaned softly, beginning to enjoy her attentions and assuming she was making it up to me for what she had done. I was drowsy so Sheila quickly took control of the situation, rolling over slightly so that she lay partly across me, pinning my chest to the bed as she kissed me and moved her leg up so that our thighs rubbed together. One of my arms was pinned under her and the other moved up to touch her gently. She grabbed my wrist and guided my hand to her breast and the hard nipple beneath the sexy satin. Her leg moved further up now and she raised herself on one elbow so that she was almost on top of me and her knee was touching my erection, teasing it and brushing the satin against it. I gasped at this and thrust my hips forward, wanting to feel it again. Sheila swung her knee over me and instantly was straddling me, pinning me to the bed and kissing me passionately. Both my hands found their way to her breasts and she let out a breathy sigh as I squeezed both nipples gently. I felt her pressing her groin against mine and she began to lift the hem of her nightie. I wriggled under her as very slowly she began to remove her nightie, all the while the satin was being drawn slowly against my cock as she pulled the nightgown upwards and over her head. As she removed the nightgown she thrust forward and took me into her, surprised by the gloriousness of this feeling I shuddered in pleasure and my hands fell away from her breasts. I don't know how she managed it but the next moment she was grabbing my wrists and I felt the nightie being pulled down over my head. I tried to stop her but my struggles just seemed to make it easier for her to slip it onto my body. She grabbed both my wrists in one hand and leaned all her weight on them, holding them firmly on the bed as she tugged the skirt of the nightie down around me. She lifted her hips so that I wasn't penetrating her any more and quickly the hem of the nightie was round my legs. She let go of my arms but my protests were suddenly stifled by one of her breasts in my mouth. Both her hands were roaming over my body, touching me feverishly through the satin. She slid forward again and suddenly I penetrated her, my erection still sheathed in the soft satin skirt of the nightgown she had forced onto me. She began to move up and down on me, her breast in my mouth and my satin covered cock deep inside her. "Oh, girly, you like that don't you?" "Mmmmm," was all I could manage through her delicious mammary. She grabbed one of my wrists and moved my arm so it was lying along my side. She lifted her leg and trapped my arm against my body with her weight. She did the same with the other arm and I was lying there, flat out on my back, unable to touch her. She teased me by leaning back slightly so that her breasts was out of my mouth, tantalisingly just out of reach before me. I made moaning noises, wanting to kiss and suck her nipple again. "Beg, girly, beg me to let you suck my tit." "Please Sheila, let me suck it, lean forward and let me suck your lovely nipple." She did as I begged and I was effectively gagged again as she started moving up and down on my nightie covered manhood. She began whispering right into my ear, kissing, nibbling and blowing it as she did so. "Oh, that feels good, girly. I wish you were wearing real lipstick, then you'd leave a mark round my nipple." Both her hands were now at my chest, teasing my nipples through the soft satin I was wearing. Reminded now of what she had put me in I began to struggle a bit, wanting her to take the nightie off me and let me make love to her like a man, not pinned to the bed in satin like this with her making love to me as if I was the woman. "Mmmmm, I think you might have been right after all, girly. I think maybe any man who lets himself be treated like this must want it deep down. You want me to do this don't you girly?" "Mmmmmfff!!!" was the extent of my response with a feeble attempt at struggling which only served to make the penetration more pleasurable for her. She seemed to take my reaction as a positive one. "You secretly like wearing makeup and satin nighties I think. I did force you into this but you like it or you would have reacted more angrily and you wouldn't be letting me screw you with satin on your cock." I tried once more to protest but my wriggles only made her moan louder and get more excited, her movements became faster and her breath got shorter as she gasped her words into my ear. "You love wearing satin don't you girly, you want me to do this to you. You begged to kiss my tits because you are jealous of them and want your own pair. You want me to give you breasts and touch them through your sexy nightie. Don't you? Don't you?" She orgasmed as she was saying this and her spasms set off my own ejaculation into the satin nightie. "Oh, yes, girly, the thought of me giving you breasts really turns you on doesn't it? Will you cum every time I suggest it? Mmmmm." She carried on moving until both our spasms had subsided but kept my arms pinned and her breast in my mouth, not allowing me the chance to even protest that it hadn't been what she was saying that had brought me to orgasm. "You sexy bitch!" she whispered into my ear, "I think you'll really enjoy being feminine, girly." Suddenly she was off me and hurrying back to her room, leaving me exhausted, humiliated, still turned on and very sticky in the nightie. The next morning Sheila had left the house before I woke. I picked the nightie up from where I had thrown it on the floor and put it in the washing. Upon looking in my underwear drawer I found that all my male underwear had been removed and there were three pairs of satin panties in their place, one pair pink, one scarlet and the other white with pink flowers on. Unable to decide which would be least embarrassing I closed my eyes and grabbed a pair at random. After a quick shower and getting dressed (with flower patterned panties under my jeans) I went downstairs for breakfast. I didn't make it. I suddenly felt very sick and rushed back up to the bathroom, just getting my head over the toilet bowl in the nick of time. The nausea soon passed and I felt fine suddenly. I brushed my teeth, swished with mouthwash and went downstairs. Denise was there and grinned mischievously at me. "You sounded like you enjoyed yourself last night." I blushed, I didn't realise she could hear us. "I guess you don't mind Sheila making you feminine that much if you still want to shag her. I heard when I got up to go to the toilet last night. Did you go on the top or the bottom?" I blushed again and looked down at the floor, embarrassed at being used like a woman last night. Denise, seeing my shame, laughed and pointed. "You were underneath - the woman's position!" she squealed. "Wow, Sheila really is making a hefty point with you, you don't seem to mind though. I see you've still got the makeup on. She told me about it before she left this morning. You don't seem pissed off so I'm guessing she must be right when she says she's coming more to your viewpoint that the men who allow this to be done to them want it really. If someone did that to me I'd be livid, and I already wear makeup!" "I didn't want this! Did she really say it was a tattoo?" Denise nodded and I began to cry again, "I don't want to be feminine, I don't want to have makeup for five years! I'm a man, not a woman. She keeps calling me 'girly' and I don't like it." Denise had jumped to her feet by now and rushed over to hug me fiercely. Sobbing on her shoulder, she just held me as I let it all out. "She thinks I like this, that I want her to do this, she thinks it turns me on. It doesn't! I hate it. She forced me to wear a nightie last night in bed and made me go underneath and called me 'girly' and thinks I want breasts like she." Denise held me and mumbled comforting words to me and made me feel small and safe in her arms. She steered me through into the living room and we cuddled up on the sofa, her with her arms around me and me lying across her lap, holding her and sobbing. She stroked my girlish hair and cuddled me to her chest. After a short while I stopped sobbing and just lay there in her arms, feeling comforted. Denise moved slightly and her breast brushed against my face. I noticed that she was not wearing a bra under her thin cotton blouse. I could also see that her nipple was erect, big and hard in front of me. She moved again and this time her nipple brushed my lips, I felt her shudder as it did so and looked up to apologise, embarrassed, but saw she was sitting there with her eyes closed and a happy smile on her face. She had moved so that as her breasts rose and fell with her breathing, the nipple brushed my lips. I went to turn my head in case it was going to offend her but she hugged me close, gently stopping me from doing so as she felt me begin to move. Her breast was brushing my cheek and my tears had dampened the thin cotton, rendering it almost see-through. As her nipple brushed against my lips I could feel it getting even harder and bigger and could feel Denise shuddering with pleasure occasionally. Her breathing slowed slightly so that her nipple lingered longer and longer on my lips. The feel of it, so sexy but denied by the thin cotton began to turn me on and I wet my lips, just catching the tip of her nipple with my tongue as I did so. I think Denise almost gasped. There was no doubting it now, she pressed her nipple against my lips, the pressure increasing and decreasing as she breathed. I flicked my tongue against it and was rewarded by a small gasp and an increase of the pressure of her nipple against my mouth as she did so. Denise still cuddled me on her lap, brushing my hair away and looking happily at me as I mouthed her nipple and gazed up at her through my bangs. One hand cradled my head to her breast as the other went to her throat, sexily brushed her hair away from her neck and began to undo the buttons on her blouse. Her scarlet-painted fingernails crept closer to my face as she unfastened one button then the next. Quickly her breast was free and she swept her blouse aside and crushed my face onto her breast. Hungrily I sucked her breast, flicked my tongue against her nipple. I felt her hand slide up my T-shirt and caress my now smooth stomach and chest before moving down to undo my jeans. I moaned softly, muffled by her breast as I felt my jeans come undone and her hand begin to slip down inside. Too late, I remembered what I was wearing under my jeans. Denise stiffened as she saw and felt the flower-patterned satin panties I was wearing. "Such pretty panties, did you choose them yourself?" Unable to explain fully round her breast and blushing furiously I nodded slightly. "Mmmm, they suit you, they feel nice as well," she said as she caressed me gently through them. She was right, they did feel nice and I didn't mind at all being touched through them. Denise hadn't made fun of them and hadn't forced me into them so I might as well enjoy the sexy material while her touching lasted. Her hand slipped further into my jeans, past my erection to touch me gently through the crotch of the panties with her fingertips. I stiffened and moaned softly, this was something I had never experienced before, being touched gently on my perineum through satin panties, it was wonderful! Less intense but somehow much nicer than having my erection touched. I closed my eyes and lay back, enjoying the feeling as I sucked on Denise's nipple. I felt her tug the waistband of my jeans down and arched my back to make it easier for her to remove them all together. They fell to the floor and her hand slipped round to cup my balls through the satin, she continued to caress me through the satin crotch with her fingernails and told me again how pretty my panties were and that they suited me well. It must have been nearly half an hour I lay on her lap like that with us enjoying each others touch. Denise orgasmed at least once. Suddenly I felt a feeling welling up inside me. I had never felt that particular feeling before being touched by Denise. It was very similar to the pressure build-up before ejaculation but softer, less urgent. The feeling started in my stomach and very quickly raced through my whole body, racking me with spasms on Denise's lap and leaving me with a wonderfully warm feeling almost as if I had climaxed but I had not ejaculated. I opened my eyes and Denise was staring at me wide mouthed and wide eyed. I lay there in her arms, kissing her breast and feeling small, protected and nice. "What happened there? You suddenly looked so beautiful and happy. It was amazing." "I don't know, I feel odd." I tried to explain how it had felt. She asked a couple of questions and I tried my best to answer. A couple of her questions hit the nail right on the head and she said, "Aaaaah!!" with a nod. "What?" "Oh nothing, I think I know what just happened to you." "Well tell me then." "No, it doesn't matter, I'm probably wrong." "Wrong about what? Tell me. Please? I've never felt that good and I want to know what it was" Denise blushed a bit, "Well I think you just had a female orgasm. What you described is exactly how I feel when I have an orgasm." It was my turn to blush now. "Well whatever it was, I enjoyed it, thank you, you're wonderful". I felt full of love and we stayed curled up on the sofa cuddling for a while. Soon it was time for lunch and I had to move off of Denise's lap so she could go get herself something to eat. I stood up and reached for my jeans. Denise looked at me and blushed again, obviously wanting to say something. "What is it Denise?" I asked. "Well ... nothing." "No, go on, what were you about to say?" "Well I ... I wondered if you would mind not putting your jeans back on. I like you in those panties and it felt so nice touching you and being with you on the sofa. I kind of hoped that you would wear just those panties and a T-shirt this afternoon. Sorry, I know you hate being feminine and I wouldn't want you to wear a dress or anything, I just like you in those panties and if you wore them without jeans this afternoon I could still look at them and touch you through them." She blushed furiously as she blurted all this out and I felt guilty for my first thought which was to tell her to go to hell. I didn't say anything of the sort. It wasn't her fault I only had panties to wear and she wasn't making fun of me and had just made me experience something which approximated a female orgasm. I felt guilty enough to agree to her request and suddenly we were both standing in the living room blushing fiercely. She smiled sweetly at me, said "thanks," and hurried out to make us some lunch. The rest of the afternoon was spent doing housework, sitting and reading or watching television. Denise had a big grin on her face every time she looked at my pretty panties and kept patting me on the bum while we were in the kitchen. As we sat together on the sofa her hand rested on my smooth leg at the top of my thigh where her fingers moved gently, brushing the soft satin and delicate lace edging of my feminine underwear (not that it was under anything!). I couldn't believe how quickly the time flew by. Suddenly there was the sound of the front door opening as Sheila returned from work. Too late I realised that Denise, while tidying up, had removed my jeans to my bedroom and there was no way I could get them without Sheila seeing me in my pretty panties. Denise seeing me wasn't so bad after the initial embarrassment but I really didn't want Sheila to see me in them as she would only take it as further proof of her theory that I actually enjoyed being forced to be feminine. In a feeble attempt to cover my self I curled my legs up on the sofa and tried to cover myself with a cushion. It was pathetic and Sheila saw what I was up to immediately. She virtually pissed herself laughing at me in my flower patterned lingerie and smooth legs trying to hide from her. "Good choice of panties, girly. I see you decided you liked them so much you refused to wear trousers over them. I was right! You do want me to make you feminine, you love it. I was going to tell you this later but now seems appropriate." "What?" I was starting to panic, what else was in store for me? "Well, the bet was that I could make you come and visit me at the clinic while you were feminine. Tomorrow you will come down to the clinic where I have made you an appointment." "No way! You must be mad if you think I'll let you do anything else to me." "Well obviously it's your decision. You should probably know that while you were unconscious and being tattooed, you were also given a massive injection of feminine hormones. The hormone injections included a shot to stop your male hormones having any effect on your body so that the effect of the female hormones would be uncontested and much more rapid." "You bitch! How could you do that to me?" "It seemed like a good idea at the time. The shot takes a couple of days to take full effect and is irreversible after that. Like I said, it's your decision, you can either stay here and let the hormones take effect or you can come down to the clinic wearing a very pretty dress and have either breast implants or the antidote to the hormones. I don't really care either way. I've made you an appointment but you won't be seen unless you are wearing a dress and high heels. When you get there you can tell them whether you want breast implants or the anti-androgen injection." She was smirking as she said this, obviously still hugely enjoying my helplessness. After Sheila went upstairs and got into the bath, Denise tried to comfort me but I was not in the mood to be comforted. Denise was still touching my panties and although it felt nice, it wasn't taking my mind off of my feminine predicament. The next day, Sheila had left me a pretty pink shift dress and high heels to wear and a note telling me to be wearing them when I arrived at the clinic at 12 noon. I was sick again in the morning and started to worry that it might be the female hormones which I had been given. In a virtual state of shock I donned the panties and padded bra left with the dress and slipped the dress over my head, shocked by how nice it felt to smooth the dress down over my hairless, feminine body. I couldn't do the zip up by myself and had to walk to Denise's bedroom to ask for help. It was amazing how different it felt to be walking in a dress to then feeling of wearing trousers. I felt at once freer and less restricted, yet more vulnerable. Denise helped me into the dress properly and smoothed it down over my bottom at the back. She also helped my with the strappy pink heels and gave me a quick lesson on how to walk in them, teaching me that letting my hips sway and keeping my feet close together made them and the fairly tight mini-dress easier to handle. The thought of going outside dressed like this was so terrible that I almost decided not to. It was only the fact that I had been given an irreversible female hormone injection that finally decided it, I was hiding in my bedroom crying and refusing to leave the house when Denise managed to convince me that if I didn't go to the clinic, not only would my body chemistry be permanently changed, Sheila would no doubt try to take my feminisation even further until she had proved her point. I washed my face, brushed my hair out, checked my reflection in the mirror, grabbed a small pink leather clutchbag with money in and steeled myself to take my first feminine steps into the outside world. Denise had ordered me a taxi so fortunately I didn't have far to walk in open view but it was bad enough worrying about our neighbours seeing and recognising me and panicking about the cab driver realising I was a man in a dress and what he might do if he noticed. In fact he was quite the opposite, which might have been even worse. He obviously had no idea that I wasn't as feminine as I appeared as he was flirting with me the whole way to the clinic (I had him drop me off round the corner as he would have guessed I was a man if he'd driven me straight to the clinic). I definitely caught him looking in his rearview mirror trying to see my breasts or up the skirt of my short dress which had ridden right up my thighs as I had climbed into the cab. Unused to wearing skirts as I was, I was not sitting modestly and I think my pink panties were on show. He didn't seem to notice that they were a bit more full than they should have been on a woman. Finally we arrived and I climbed out and paid the driver, fending off another attempt to get me to agree to go out with him. I walked round the corner and stood in my pretty pink dress and shoes, clutching my small leather bag and wondering for the hundredth time today how I had ended up in this situation and whether the whole thing was just a bad dream. There was no way out of this situation, I was here dressed in a pretty and pink mini-dress and strappy high heels, semi permanent makeup, feminine hair and with female hormones coursing through my body changing me permanently. I could either go into the clinic and get the antidote or I could accept that my body chemistry was now a lot more feminine and walk home in my pretty dress. No choice really. With my face burning red I entered the clinic, gave my name and told the receptionist that I was here to get an anti androgen shot. Before long I had signed a permission form and was leaning forward over a table while a pretty female doctor lifted the hem of my dress, tugged my panties down and injected the liquid into my backside. I can't begin to describe how humiliating that was. It wasn't the injection that was embarrassing, for some strange reason it was the fact that my skirt was lifted and my panties tugged down that was the humiliation. I've no idea why that is and I don't expect you to understand it but there it is, something about being injected in such a feminine way horrified me. Smiling warmly at me the pretty doctor said, "Welcome to femininity, hope you enjoy it," as she handed me a leaflet and left. A moment later, Sheila entered the room and locked the door behind her. "Well, do you concede defeat? I made you feminine and forced you to come here in your pretty dress. You didn't resist very much and you didn't refuse. Unless you're willing to admit that you let me do this to you because you secretly wanted it, I've won our bet and you will be wearing a pretty skirt with your jumper whenever I want you to. I'd prefer you to admit that you wanted this to happen and then you could wear pretty skirts all the time." I hung my head, "Yes Sheila, you win. I'll wear the skirt with the jumper. Please don't do any more to me, I don't want to be feminine." "That's a shame. Damn, you look hot like that!" she stepped closer to me and held her hands out. I came into her arms, wanting to be hugged and for the whole thing to be over. She did hug me but began kissing me as well, forcing her tongue roughly into my mouth, crushing my body against hers and squeezing my pantied, skirt-clad bottom. She took me there in the room, me in my pretty pink dress and Sheila still in her nurse uniform (and very sexy she looked in it too). I was worried about someone else finding us like this but she had locked the door and I was feeling to vulnerable and emotional to stop her for fear of what else she might have done to me if I annoyed her. I didn't feel able to risk any more humiliation or feminisation. I wanted her to be satisfied so I could get back home and back into male clothes so I would feel more secure and safe. I suppose it was stupidity or naivety but after the way she had treated me, I really should have known better. As soon as we got home and Denise was told how I had given in and conceded defeat we were in skirts and our jumpers. They weren't matching skirts but the women insisted on proof of my commitment to wearing the skirt with the jumper. It wasn't until a couple of weeks later that I found the leaflet the doctor had handed me after my injection. It was in my room in the little pink leather clutch bag. I sat on the bed and cried after I read it as the enormity of what Sheila had done to me hit home. Because I had argued with her and refused to concede the point for so long she had tricked me into an anti-androgen shot, a permanent one. My makeup was tattooed on for a few years and now, according to the leaflet I was reading, my body was no longer responding to male hormones. Apparently, androgens are the male hormones. Like most people I had only heard of one - testosterone. The shot I was given contained a substance called an anti androgen which is something that inhibits the effects of the androgens. The particular one I had been given was permanent meaning that no longer would testosterone play a part in my body's chemistry. In addition I would most probably find I would suffer gyneacomastia - or breast growth, probably also permanent. If Sheila had indeed given me a massive injection of female hormones while I had been drugged then any effects from those would be greatly multiplied due to the lack of competition from my male hormones. I was a woman now, permanently. And I had gone to the clinic in my pretty dress and lingerie and almost begged for the injection which caused this. I think I would have cried more if I had realised what else Sheila had in store for me. Ask me again later, maybe I'll tell you more. The End. Feel free to comment or whatever on this story. You can either contact me (satinmaid@y...