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Brave New World By Callie Messenger You probably won't believe this. No, that's wrong, you will believe this, because that's my power. That's my talent, to let you understand what happened to you and me, to everyone in fact. I asked for it when I made my wishes. Well, wish actually, because what I asked for was so big I had to combine the wishes I'd been given. But combine them I did and the result was what you're looking at now. Not just me, I mean everything. Because I wished that everyone in the world would change sex, but that only I would know about it. I was careful with my specifications too, because I didn't want too much to change, but apparently that was hard to do. I wanted people to remain as close to their statuses, roles and positions in life as possible, just taking into account the necessary facts of the human condition. That way when I woke up the next morning, for example, I was still a lawyer. You don't believe me about the sex change thing. I told you, you wouldn't, but you will. In a former life I was a guy. Above average looks, which was lucky. You see when I said I wanted little to change I intended that in terms of looks too. So I was quite good looking, for a guy, which translates into pretty stunning for a girl. Okay, so male models became female supermodels. Tom Cruise was always better looking than me too. That was a funny story actually, because you know how I said I wanted things to change as little as possible? Well, I looked out for some people after the change. They were hard to find at first, but not when you realised what had happened. Tom Cruise was still in films, and was one of the best paid actresses in Hollywood. Only I found it hard to pick him out because he wasn't Tom, he was Tammy. Tammy Kidman. Tammy met her husband Nick on the set of one of her movies. Brescia Moore isn't particularly good looking but she is charismatic. Her husband Dempsey is the action hero of the moment. You remember GI Joe? So, yeah, I became pretty damn fine, don't you think? I was just under average height as a man, so I'm five feet four now. Averagely endowed, so I woke up with somethings, between a B and a C cup. Oh, they're not now, but that's another part of the story. What happened was that I asked for a couple of month's grace, so to speak. I wanted a couple of months where I was just as ignorant of the wish I made as everyone else. This was just so that I would have some real memories of what it felt like to be a woman. So when I woke in the same flat - it was tidier - I went to work like it was the most natural thing in the world, which it was, I suppose. I put on makeup because it was like getting dressed, not because it made me feel sexier or anything. I wore trousers because they looked more professional and in keeping with my job. I preferred skirts on warm days. I wore heels for height. I didn't have a boyfriend, and I suffered a little innuendo in the office. Some things had to change slightly. Men who had previously been women had moved up the corporate ladder, whilst women who had previously been men had moved down. I never knew the maiden name of the US's first lady, but there was a secretary of state for defence called Willhelmina who looked suspiciously like she might have been a Bill once, while the president was of course male. In my office I had stayed at about the same level, but my old secretary, a girl called Wendy, was now a guy called Walter who was an IT administrator. He was below me, but was a lot friendlier than I remember. He was cute looking, and if Wendy's assets were anything to go by he had something to be proud about in the trouser department. At the time I didn't even think about him as anything other than IT administrator guy and a nice person. I've since made the most of his attention, and he does have something to be proud of, though I had to show him how to use it. I kick myself when I look back on those couple of months and realise that I must have passed up eight or ten good offers every month. Instead I slept alone, read women's magazines and thought about how to advance my career. My awakening was truly that, an awakening. I did roll over in bed one morning and wonder what the hell had just flopped across my chest. I realised almost immediately. I think I shouted for joy because it had really worked! I did all the standard stuff, checking myself out in the mirror, playing for hours with my chest and then trying to find all those bits of my body that I'd always had trouble finding on a girl. Of course, I knew where it all was, because I had a whole lifetime's memories of this new body. I went back over my life. I had studied nearly the same subjects in school, though I'd dropped physics and kept biology, and given up math early to concentrate on French. At university I'd studied law with French instead of straight law. Instead of dumping my girlfriend of two years right after university I'd been dumped by my boyfriend of two years, and suffered a minor period of depression as a result. The memory made me wince. As I looked at myself in the mirror I thought that there was no way that such a woman should be leading such a romantically, and sexually, dull life. I would never be dumped. I better understood what it meant to be dumped, I suppose. Of course, I'd never enjoyed being dumped or even just turned down by women. It was the one thing that I was really jealous of in women. They could pick and choose. We men placed so much importance upon satisfying our libidos and women held all the keys that enabled us to do that. That's why I wanted the shoe on the other foot. So when I found that bottle on the beach and opened it up I guess I already knew what I really wanted. I just took a little time, and consulted with the genie before coming up with my master plan. A simple sex change for everyone. Not everything went well, of course. War torn areas of the world suffered. They of course previously had a shortage of young men and now they had an excess. This just made the troubles flare up worse, and some women in those areas were as bad warlords as the men had been. Armies in the peaceful countries now had a greater balance of women, as did churches and governments, which led to major reforms in many national and international politics. Reforms relative to what I knew, you understand. For you it's just history, though not for much longer. Why do I keep saying that? Because soon that body won't be your body any more. Well, it will, because you'll be stuck with it, but you'll realise that it isn't the body you were born with. I'm just trying to prepare you for the troubles. I mean, it's not like I've had it easy. When you have a man's carnal desires inside a body that can fulfil them at the drop of a bra, you can get into all sorts of trouble. I didn't mean to get fired from my job, but when Mr. Carter, my old boss, found out that I was sharing his wife's bed with his biggest client, something had to give. And it was him who'd offered to put me up in his house for the weekend while his wife was away! Oh, sure, he intended me to be the corporate entertainment at that party, but he wanted all the after dinner tricks for himself. So I found myself on the streets. That didn't matter, because that's one of the places I'd intended to visit, just at my own pace preferably. Anyway, I called up an escort agency and found myself some work for the evenings. The thing was, the men weren't particularly nice. If they weren't treating you like an accessory they wanted you as a serf. I realised that I could only go for the best looking guys. And even then I fancied my co-workers more. Only chatting up women when you're a woman yourself is likely to get you the worst kind of disdain. I took a few of those women and did to them what I'm going to be doing to you. I let them know who they once were, and once you know, there's no going back. I mean, they suddenly realised they were really men. And it must be the worst thing to realise when you've got twenty stones of sweating man on top of you. Oh, they would have preferred me then. That's a point, would you like me to be kissing you when you wake up to yourself? I don't mind, I go both ways. You might mind though. I just realised early on in my new life that men were just as good as women in bed. Oh, sure, I would love to be sleeping with a woman, as a man, I mean. But you have to understand that no matter what else women can do, and what else they think they know about your body, they can't get inside you. Plastic can, and rubber can, and fingers and even fists can, but when a man enters you it's all of him. He's all around you, and above you, and below you, and completely inside you. Sure, most of the time the fact that he's above you, grunting and sweating, can detract from the beauty of it. Just sometimes, sweet sometimes, your world moves. I can orgasm better by myself, but it doesn't change that fact. When you're not quite in control of yourself, the pleasure is another type of exquisite. I digress. Sex is great, but it isn't everything. Who am I trying to kid? You know sex is everything, that's why you're here, where you are now. When I became an escort, when I chatted up women, I wanted sex. I wanted to try everything. As a man inside this body, you can, and you have to. So I felt the need to really get this body up to shape. I turned to cosmetic surgery just as soon as I had the money. Yes, the thing you have to understand is, even though I live in this body, it just feels like a shell I control. I don't feel any need to justify boob jobs. This body is something that I'm designing for sex. Anything to enable me to have anyone I want, whenever I want them. The first boob job took me up to a 'D' cup. The second took me to a Double 'E'. That's a pretty stupid size really! I can't do anything with them but show them off and look like a tart. Of course I want that, but I was beautiful with 'D's. I didn't actually want the second job, I was forced to. It was something I let myself in for, of course. I told you about that great sex, where the world moves. I wanted that more. I didn't realise it for a while but it happened when the guy took over. Like when he took over sex from you. I would be happily feeling a cock slide up inside me as I pushed down upon it, when suddenly it was thrust up inside me, and a pair of strong arms would hold me like I was just a doll, a fuck-toy, a tool to masturbate with. The item that connected this kind of sex, me, and a world of sin was another escort. Her name was Da Silva, and she wanted me probably more than I wanted her. I succumbed to her seduction as quickly as any man would to a sexually hungry woman. Only I wasn't a man, I was a woman, and she didn't want me for her own pleasure, though she seemed to keep promising it. Instead she would drive me insane with lust before tying me down to a bed and allowing whichever man she was with at the time to come in and take his pleasure of me. I quickly realised that I didn't want her to treat me any other way, and became her willing subject in these wicked experiments. Until soon it was just so much of the same, as she never took me herself. I bored of it, but knew exactly what I was looking for. I went underground. I knew the places to go, of course. At least, I knew which way to head. First I became a regular at a fetish club. I started off with the vanilla stuff. Role play, maid, naughty nurse, sometimes water sports. But that wasn't what I wanted. There wasn't much thrill. Sure, a strong man bending me over his knee was a turn on, but the rest of the time I was just faking the submission. And peeing into a guy's mouth was sick. But how I wish I'd stopped right there. Because peeing into someone's mouth is so much less sick than being that someone. When a couple of the regulars at the club finally invited me to join them for a weekend I discovered what I knew I was looking for. Leather, PVC, latex, punishment and straps. Punishment I didn't enjoy, apart from the fact that it was a mental binding that enforced submission, though even with these guys it was a friendly threat. Painfully carried through, but not unendurable. Straps, however, now that was the stuff. Physical bondage put my body on a permanent turned on high. I couldn't do anything to prevent the application of either pain or pleasure, and that made me horny as hell. When I got back from that first weekend I let the guys know that I'd do anything to join them again. That meant evenings as a maid, days as a temporary office worker with no responsibility other than executive blowjobs, and nights as a babysitter. Oh, yes, some of those menial tasks were routine. I told you about my first boob job. It was to look better in a corset, and helped my other regular income as an escort. I had to adjust my hours at work because of the other pulls on my time, what with keeping houses and nursing. And more on nursing too when I get back to it. Anyway, I was still earning well and my first set of implants only improved things. Men want tits. I should know. Like I said, I wanted them. For months after the surgery I couldn't help showing them off. I wanted the world to see them. There was no way I could have got back into a respectable job then. But that wasn't the way I was headed anyway. Who wanted respect? I wanted to be treated like dirt. No, not quite. I wanted to be treated like a dirty slut. Fucked. Stolen from the street, tied up in an alley and banged within an inch of my life. Escort work became such an act that I began to find it difficult to hide the boredom. And then he arrived. That's 'he' with a capital aitch. One of my clients one night asked if he could tie me up. The agency warns against that kind of thing but he was a nice guy. Good looking, the works. Once he had me tied up he teased me, tickled me, fisted me and fucked me. He knew exactly what he was doing to me. Then, as he untied me he told me that he recognised me from one night at the club. He offered, if I wanted to experience more of the same earth-shattering sex, to take me in and train me as his slave. While I nodded he continued the offer. I would have to give up everything, right down to the clothes on my back, and come to live with him. He would provide everything I needed, and train me to serve as his slave. Ultimately he might sell me on to someone else, or he might keep me for himself. By then I would just go where I was told, and do as I was told, and I would love it. My excitement overcame any objection I could have thought of, though in my naivety I couldn't think of those that I should have thought of. I looked forward to a life of sex and bedtime bondage, and little else. I agreed immediately to his proposal. He put together a list of things he wanted me to buy, and an address. I trawled the red light district shops for the maid's outfit, corsets, latex bodysuit, latex hood and mask, gag, ball gag, dildoes, double dildoes, strap-ons and a variety of vibrators, some of which I had no idea about the purpose of. The fetish shops turned out a number of shoes and boots for me. All were high heeled, enough to make it difficult to walk in, even with the practise I'd had. Most of them covered and supported the ankles. Just a couple were strappy. I took the last of my cash out of my account and put it into my safety deposit box at the bank along with the jewellery I didn't want to take to my new home. I had a pile of stock certificates in there. I had no idea how they were going, I just bought them regularly, though they were chosen on a whim. They were my tax avoiding retirement fund. When you earn the money I did, you can't spend it all, and I wasn't so dumb as to think I wouldn't need something for a rainy day. Anyway, with my new kit and some clothes in a suitcase I took a taxi to my next home. I couldn't wait to see what this new life would be like. Like I said, there were questions that I should have asked had I not been so naive. And likewise, I might not have been looking forward with such excitement to my new life. When I got to the house, out in the middle of nowhere, I sent the taxi away with a little bit of trepidation. As He, whose name I never knew but knew from entry to his home that I was to call him Master, let me in to the house he took my case from me and left it by the stairs before showing me into the kitchen. There he sat whilst I made us a cup of coffee. Following the coffee he asked me to wait whilst he took my bag upstairs and prepared my room. I sat for about fifteen minutes looking out of the window into the walled herb garden. I guessed from the noise coming through the dumb waiter that my bedroom was right above the kitchen. I was right. My suitcase was open on my bed, and most of my clothing gone. All that was left was the gear that I'd bought and some underwear. I was right about the dumb waiter. The other side of it was a small waiting room before the doors to his bedroom. There was no connecting door between my room and the waiting room. My one door led out onto the landing gallery. It had bolts on the outside. I saw them and felt a little nervous. Sexy nervous, if you know what I mean. Outside my window was the herb garden. The wall was topped with broken glass. My window was nailed to prevent wide opening. The only furnishings were my large wooden bed and a wardrobe with no doors. There were iron rings bolted into the floor, walls and ceilings. The guy who wanted to be known as Master left me to unpack, instructing me to change into the maid uniform and then to place my clothes into the dumb waiter, which opened into my room too, and close the doors. I did, and heard a bell from below shortly followed by the sound of the waiter travelling down. That was the last I saw of that little black Channel number. For the rest of the day he showed me around the house, and introduced me to the bells in the waiting room, which could be rung from different rooms within the house. When I heard one, I was to immediately go to that room and serve whoever rang. As I lay down that night I really didn't think that this was quite what I had in mind, being a maid to some wealthy bachelor. Still, I had nothing to worry about. My board and lodging was covered, and there weren't all these places to tie ropes up for nothing! So I had nothing to worry about. Well, the next few days were pretty boring. I woke early, went down to the kitchen and made breakfast. I sent it up to the waiting room and followed up the stairs. I rang a small bell and then picking up the breakfast I took it into the main bedroom, where Master would be awake. I went back down to the kitchen and cleaned up before returning for the tray. After I cleaned that I spent a dull morning in the waiting room unless I was assigned some menial task. I made, served, collected and cleaned up lunch, and then I had a couple of hours off in which I could sit in the garden or lie in bed. At four, I served tea in the salon, then prepared dinner for half past seven. I would be finished by ten and straight into bed. It was boring, and I was getting itchy, but then he slept with me. He came into my room at the end of one evening and slipped under the sheets with me... He didn't tie me up or anything, but told me exactly what he wanted me to do. It was nice. What happened the next day wasn't. Apparently I was late answering a bell. All he did was throw me over his knee, lift up my dress and petticoat and spank me. Hard. It stung right through the frilly knickers. I was shocked. He was so strong. I felt like nothing right then, but angry and hurt. Then he got out some cream and gently rubbed it into my sore bottom to soothe the pain. As he did so I could feel his cock trying to push me up off his lap. Moments later, at his direction, I was sucking on it like a lollipop. The second consequence of the error I didn't find out until the next morning when I got dressed. I had no low heeled shoes in my wardrobe. I looked, but they were all gone and I didn't even see them go. So on went a plain pair of pumps with heels just under two inches. That day I did everything perfectly and didn't miss a bell. As a result I got fucked that night, and royally. Strapped to the bed by my hands and treated to a vibrator massage before we finally came in unison. The next mistake was cold toast at breakfast, and then too much gin in his drink. Both in the same day. For both I got spanked, but on the second one he didn't give me any cooling cream and my arse was still red when I went to bed. I didn't give him a blowjob for that one though. Of course, when I woke up there were fewer shoes for me. Two-and-a- half inch heeled sandals or two inch heeled with platform boots. I thought the latter would be easier, but I wasn't used to the thick soles and kept tripping. Two spankings and I made sure he put the cream on by sucking him sweetly. The next morning I put on the two-and-a-half inch heels. There were more errors, and more spankings, but little else changed. Eventually the heels changed to three inches. My calves and buttocks were getting a hell of a workout every day. I had probably been there two weeks before I decided that enough was enough and it was time to go. I asked him for my clothes and if he could give me a lift into town. I still remember that smile. It was like he'd been waiting for that moment and now something had happened that made him happy. But he hid it quickly and pretended, I'm sure, to be angry. The next thing I knew I was over his knee again. But I fought this time. He held me down and then twisted my arms up over my back. There was a fumbling, and a click as I kicked ineffectually. I was handcuffed. He stood me up and roughly marched me up the stairs to my room. He pulled out a second pair of handcuffs and cuffed one ankle to a floor ring. I wasn't going anywhere. I was scared. He left and promptly returned with a bunch of long straps. He threw them through rings in the floor and ceiling and then began to tie them to my wrists and ankles. First he pulled my legs apart until I was barely able to balance on my shoes. Then he removed the handcuffs and pulled my arms up toward the ceiling until my shoulders were stretched and my feet were almost coming off the floor. I was supporting myself on tiptoes. He tied off the ropes. He walked round me explaining my situation. Basically I wasn't leaving until he let me go. He then undid my dress and grabbed hold of my corset laces, pulling them tight until I could barely breathe. He tied them off and then looped one of the handcuffs through the bows so that the knot couldn't be undone. He rezipped my dress and then raised my skirts. I was already panting for breath when he spanked me with something much harder than his hand. And across the backs of my thighs. I began to cry out in pain, and felt myself go dizzy as the smacks continued. I felt lightheaded, and strangely numb, before I passed out. I woke in my bed. I was still fully dressed. My legs were still stinging. I got up to go to the door. It was locked, from the outside. There was a bucket in the corner of the room. I guessed that was where I was supposed to relieve myself. I could barely bend over in the corset so used the corner walls to support me as I slid down to a squat and lifted my skirts. After that I undressed, down to the corset. It was dark, so I went straight to sleep. I had to roll out of bed in the morning. I dressed with as much difficulty as I did everything else with that corset on. When I found the door still locked I figured that I wasn't supposed to be working that day and waited for him to let me out. Big mistake! He must have waited until about eight o'clock before opening the door and when he did he wasn't happy. I tried to smile and explain about the door but he was having none of it. He grabbed my hands and forced me back on the bed. I kicked for his midriff but he knew how to control a woman. With one hand he held me down and with the other he tied me up. Then he tied my ankles up to the same points as my wrists, against all my resistance. "You will not sit around doing nothing!" He told me. And he made sure of it by taking down my knickers and then shoving a freezing cold lubricated finger up my arsehole. If that didn't shut me up, the next indignity did. The finger was replaced by a long, thin plug. Next on was a contraption that looked like a chastity belt. The band that passed between my legs supported the plug to stop it slipping out. The belt was padlocked. My knickers were put back to cover the contraption. If I sat down, I would force the plug right in, and that was not a pleasurable experience, as he showed me. When I asked what I was expected to do, he pointed at the dumb waiter. I could have got to the kitchen in that. Well, I spent most of the day trying to get out of that fucking contraption, or at least shifting the dildo from my arse. I couldn't sit down, though I could rest by lying on the floor. The only problem with that was my lack of mobility in the tight corset, which at least I was beginning to get used to. Though trying to walk, whilst wearing that, with a stick up my arse, and in high heels, meant that I was mincing along and wiggling my butt like crazy. The shower and bath, which I had had access to, were locked. I had to bathe in an iron tub in the kitchen. There was an outdoor toilet for my convenience. The corset wasn't being taken off, and I was given no respite from the butt dildo. Then I managed to slip it to one side of the band. Well, up until that little manoeuvre life had been getting easier. You see, if I did well, I would get treats like bed rest, decent food or television privileges. Then I had to go and slip that little item out of my butt. You know what, I barely felt the difference. He had been removing it for me to go to the toilet, and I had been noticing some difficulty with holding it in. Also some blood, and pain, but it was fading with use. I had figured out how not to sit, and how to move around without rupturing myself. Anyway, out it came. Of course, the problem arose the next time I wanted to do my number two, because I had to get him to take off the chastity device. Only I couldn't get the dildo back in first. "Who's been a bad girl?" That was all I needed to hear to turn to jelly. Gentle spanks were relieved with blowjobs still, so I got down on my knees and reached for his crotch. He hit my hand away. I began to cry. I hadn't done that in memory, at least not since I had remembered about my wish and the change. You might be wondering why I didn't let him know? I don't know really, but I figured there would be no advantage. In whatever confusion I caused him I wouldn't be able to escape. The house was locked up, remote, and I didn't have a clue where we were, let alone where the keys were. I might end up the prisoner of some woman in the body of a strong man, completely fucked off and quite willing to test out her newfound muscles. At least like this I wasn't going to be killed. I thought. Anyway, he lifted me to my feet and took me gently to the toilet. He let me do my thing and I came out feeling a lot better. "You'd better thank me!" He pointed out, and I thanked him in two different ways with my tongue. He then escorted me upstairs and asked me to stand in place between the rings. I looked at him in shock. He shrugged, and I guessed I could fight and lose or just lose. I held out my wrists for the straps. Once up, he released my corset and slipped it off. He then gave me a sponge bath. After towelling me dry he replaced the corset and yanked even harder on the laces than he did the last time. There couldn't have been much spare space between the wings. The laces were tied and I saw a padlock for the loops and heard it click closed. He allowed me to catch my breath before sliding a lubricated finger into my arsehole. I cried out in shock, and he stopped, but only to blindfold me first with a cloth and then close my nose with his fingers. As I opened my mouth to breath he pushed a rubber ball into it and let go of my nose before I could panic. He strapped something around my face holding the ball in. I think it was all connected. I could squeeze the ball with my teeth somewhat, and breath around it, but my tongue was clamped down and I couldn't speak. He then shoved his finger back through my ring again, and my cry was muffled. His finger was replaced by a narrow tube. Then I received the nauseating feeling of having my rectum fill up from the outside, though the liquid was warm. Within moments I was feeling bloated and desperate to relieve myself. The pressure remained for a few minutes before he withdrew the tube and I was forced to release a flood of stinking water. He then slipped something past my ring into my rectum where it sat quite comfortably, though the pressure on my sphincter was stretching it noticeably. There was no way I could squeeze it back out. Finally the chastity belt was wrapped back around my waist and between my legs, and locked from behind. "You won't be slipping that one out!" Was his comment as he released me from my bonds. As he let me free I reached up to remove my blindfold and saw him leaving. "Get dressed and take your slops out!" I looked at the bucket full of brown water between my legs and felt my stomach rise into my throat. I reached to undo the gag and found it to have a tiny lock on it too. I swallowed down my distaste before it suffocated me. The other alteration to routine, apart from the obvious raising of the heels to three-and-a-half inches, was my evening exercise. By the way, I didn't try not putting on the heels, no matter the discomfort. You don't go asking for trouble. No, the evening exercise started that same evening. I was strapped up again, standing, and then He brought in a mat, which he placed between my legs. Attached to the mat were a number of wires, two of which went to a battery, and two of which he gently clipped to my nipples after rubbing some gel on them and getting them erect. Who cares how gently he did it! It hurt! And they wouldn't go back down again. "This is simple." He explained as I looked at him. "If anything puts pressure on the mat you will get a small current passing through your nipples." With that he tapped the mat with his toe and the crocodile clips bit my nipples so hard I almost screamed the gag out. He undid the belt I was wearing and tugged the plug out of my butt. He then greased two dildoes and showed me the small weights hanging off them. The first he gently slipped into my vagina. As he let go I could feel it trying to slip down. I bore down on it straight away. The second he worked into my rear hole, against my feeble attempts to stop him. That one stretched my ring again, but still felt like it was slipping out, so I clamped myself onto it like I had a bad case of diarrhoea. Those inserted, he removed my gag. "Any questions?" I worked my mouth into life again. "Why are you doing this?" He tapped on the mat. My breasts blazed with fire. He held up my head to look at him as I panted for breath. "You should know better than to ask impertinent questions. This is your opportunity to ask questions directly related to your present situation. From now on those are the only questions you will ask when given the opportunity. One more chance, any questions?" I shook my head. He turned for the door. "Are you leaving me?" I almost shrieked. "I thought you didn't have any questions." "How can I pick these things up if they fall?" "You can't. Don't worry, there is an alarm." "What's that?" "Your screams." About three minutes later the dildo in my rear slid out. It may have been followed a few seconds later by any contents of my intestines missed by the earlier enema. I passed out long before I heard anyone open the door. So this was my life now. I woke in the morning never knowing how I had got into bed. When I dressed I would travel down to the kitchen in the dumb waiter and make breakfast. I would wait in the waiting room until Master had finished his breakfast when he would take me to my room and administer an enema while I was fully dressed. I would have to hold in the water until I was allowed to relieve myself in the outdoor toilet some minutes later. I would then return to my room to be fitted with the butt plug and chastity belt. The ball gag was replaced during the day by an 'o' ring. It made giving blowjobs much harder, but it made fucking my mouth much easier. Bad jobs still earned a spanking, but a good day earned a restful, pleasurable sex session before another enema and exercise. I didn't hate him for what he was putting me through either, as the sheer monotony was alleviated by the pain, the pleasure, and the kinky fetish stuff. Days rolled into weeks, and weeks rolled into something else. My heels became four inch, and then five, and finally five-and-a-half inch ballet boots which were locked onto my feet. My Achilles were scrunched up without respite even in bed. The corset was changed, and still tightened. The butt plug was enlarged, and my exercise weights grew heavier but I still held them longer to avoid the pain. I began to serve guests on odd occasions, at which times I was released from any visible restraints. I was introduced as the maid if I was introduced at all. Male guests would look at me with obvious desire. Female guests looked at me with disdain. One asked why I wore such uncomfortable shoes to work. I knew without thinking that I shouldn't answer that question, so I looked at Master for guidance. He explained that I was a dancer in training. To help make sure that I was as uncomfortable as possible in those boots he found me a pair of orthopaedic knee supports, with metal hinges that could be locked into place. The effect of these was to allow my knees a restricted range of motion. I could walk, but I couldn't sit, only flop backwards onto something. If I was caught on my bed during the day, I got punished. My discomfort in the boots was alleviated somewhat by him bandaging my feet and ankles into place. Walking wasn't helped by the increasing size of my butt plugs, and the introduction of complementary dildos into my vagina. Walking became a discomfort all round. But because of the guests I had to keep my walk as normal as possible. No one was allowed to see the effects of my discomfort, and neither did I want them to understand my humiliation. Then some of the guests started becoming regulars. This meant that Master was becoming very open with them about my position. Finally the awful happened and I was the subject of a guest's complaint. He commented that his tea was weak as I poured it. Master called me over and after I put down the tray he grabbed my hands and tipped me over his lap. Then he lifted my skirts and paddled my bare butt cheeks with an open hand. The guest could see my boots locked up, my knee supports, my chastity device, and of course my bare backside. As I began to sob into my hands the stinging grew unbearable and yet the hand continued to slap me. Finally he stopped. "Do you need me to rub some cream into that?" He asked. I nodded my head. "You know what to do." Sensing my hesitation he slapped his hand down again. I crawled backwards off his lap until my head was over his crotch, my legs forced out almost straight behind me. "Will she do it?" Asked the guest. "If she doesn't then she suffers the pain." Master replied. I knew he didn't just mean the stinging I was feeling now, but there would be something else too. I shuffled into position to draw out his cock and suck on it, hiding my face from the guest. Within moments, given the freedom to use my mouth without the ring in it, I was drinking his cum. I then crept back over his lap so that he could rub the soothing cream into my burning backside. "Does she fuck well, too?" Asked the guest as I lay there with my head buried in my hair. Master pushed me up and pulled down my skirts. "She always fucked well," he replied, as he signalled me towards the waiting room. "But now she's becoming happy, proud, and thankful to do it." I closed the doors behind me. Can you understand my position at all? No way out. Hurt if I did wrong. Healed if I did right. Pleasured if I did well. And all the time being trained by torture. So well, that I was willing to undergo public humiliation in order to do right. What else could I have done, though? I didn't do it to do right, so much as to avoid pain. That's what it was, wasn't it? I'm telling you this still to give you a picture of the trouble a person can get into. It's not just me either, as three of the men I've let know what happened with my wish are locked up for various degrees of criminal violence. Now that I know that I'm thankful to whoever is up there that I never let him know. How would I have got away from him, tottering on tiptoes, my crotch jammed full of plastic, and barely able to catch my breath after walking up the stairs due to that damned corsetry. "My guests think you're very pretty." He informed me. "Some of them would love to sleep with you." There wasn't a lot I could say with the ball in my mouth, hanging in the exercise position. "However, one, who may make an offer for you, is not much of a leg man. And he thinks that you're not that well proportioned for such a tall girl. We'll be doing something about that, if you don't mind?" I couldn't answer his question, obviously, if it was a question. Anyway I was entirely caught up in the fact that I was just about to electrocute myself to sleep. "I've got something new for you this evening. I think you're doing very well with the normal exercise. Anyway, it's something that I came up with a partner of mine. He's a gynaecologist. Obviously he gets very bored by the standard genitalia passing him every day so he's come up with a few diversions of his own to improve them." The two dildoes that he slipped into my front and rear were larger than previous, but hollow and a bit squiggly. Tubes passed from both to a long tube standing in the middle. The pressure pad had gone. "The pressure switch is inside the tube." He informed me, pointing to the wires underneath it heading to the same battery and the wires coming from the battery to my nipples. "Inside you are two pumps that raise a weight inside that tube. If the weight falls to the bottom it hits the switch. If it gets to the top it flips over to the other side, and the other pump. Air is released all the time as you pump. I set that release speed here," he said as he turned a small knob at the base of the tube. "I'll make your first one quite easy so that you can get used to the idea. When I say 'go', start squeezing those vaginal muscles! Go!" I started squeezing on the tube. It gave quite easily under pressure but I didn't really have great control of the whole contraction-relaxation mechanism and I soon began to tire. "Don't slow down yet." He told me. "It's near the top and you can give your front a rest. Just don't let it drop too quickly the other way." Suddenly one of my squeezes felt much easier than the rest and I knew the weight had tipped over. I quickly clenched my butt a few times before getting into a rhythm. In seconds the weight was back over. Unfortunately my cunt was still tired and after less than a minute I somehow knew that the weight wasn't moving up the tube. The pressure seemed to be increasing. Then there was a shock. I spasmed and somehow it stopped, and I squeezed the life out of that front dildo, but it wasn't to be. I couldn't pump for more that a few contractions. The weight fell, and the pain began, and though I spasmed once more I couldn't even hold the weight up for a moment. I screamed out as my nipples sent pins into me, and heard the master laughing. I don't know when I mastered that contraption, but I soon discovered that I could hold the weight for a while in one side whilst relaxing my other muscles, before tipping it over as the muscles I was using tired. As the valve was opened I had to squeeze harder and faster, but I was soon keeping going for over half an hour before exhaustion took over. The pain though, was getting worse when it came. Why? Because master had told me he was giving me some kinds of hormones and they were making my tits and nipples sensitive. I hadn't had that much feeling in them since the first boob job, so it was a bit of a wonder. "You're going to be a milk-cow!" He told me. "Your present implants are well placed and the operation didn't interfere with the milk ducts so I'm giving you hormones to induce lactation. As I have said before though, you're not really cow enough, so we'll be replacing those implants. But don't you worry your pretty little head about it. You'll get them and you'll love them, and I might even let you thank me for them." I nodded my pretty little head. There must have been a day when master didn't wake me up, because on the day when I did wake up I had these. Yes, these great footballs. EE! I was lying in my corset and they were being shoved into my face. No bandages or anything, this was an expensive job. There was probably a tiny set of stitches under my armpits, if that. I rolled off the bed and pushed an extra kilo up off the mattress. The difference was astounding! After weeks of nothing but carrying myself and tea, the weight on my front threw everything off balance. And it wasn't as though I had too much area to balance on. Tiptoeing around meant that I had to lean a little further back, and with the restriction of the corset that meant throwing my shoulders back, which stuck my chest out. One particular guest took a great deal of notice. She was an older woman, more around your age perhaps. You'd have liked her. Smart, well dressed always. She was beautiful in a refined way, not the flirtatious look of youth. Really intelligent and totally composed. She'd seen it all before. Master told me she knew what I was worth. She sometimes brought companions. Male companions. I went down on one of them the first time I went down on anyone other than Master inside his house. The Mistress, as she came to be known, had told me to do it. When I hesitated Master agreed to her boyfriend spanking me, and I contritely blew him. The amazing thing was that he held my head away from him to stop himself cumming! He looked at The Mistress and waited for her to nod before allowing me back down on him! When he came, he came in buckets, and I almost slurped to prevent any of it getting away and dirtying anything. But to continue about her taking notice, one day she complimented me on my new figure and on what pleasure I seemed to take in serving. I dropped my eyes and continued about my duties. "Don't you think she deserves a little something?" The Mistress asked Master. "Yes," he agreed. "Put your hands on the arm of my chair and spread your legs slightly." I did so, bending forward a little in the process and exposing my petticoat. "Tony," ordered The Mistress, "fuck her, but gently. I want her to appreciate your manhood, not suffer it!" Suddenly there was a little concern at the edge of my mind. Was I about to get raped? Only, if you don't say no, when you can, is it rape? I didn't want to say no. The thought of saying no barely crossed my mind, in fact. Master had as good as told me that I was about to get fucked and that was all that mattered. I had been good, obviously, and I deserved something, and it had been a long time since I had been good enough to get any pleasure. So it might have been concern, nervousness, anticipation or even excitement that caused me to shudder as my skirts were lifted and the key turned in my belt lock. Slowly my dildoes were slid out and replaced by emptiness. But not for long. I felt the soft head of a cock being guided towards my cunt and cocked my crotch slightly to give it easier access. Slowly the glans slid out from its foreskin past my loosened lips. I caught myself holding my breath as it continued to push in and push me apart. Men paying for sex had never had the equipment to prepare me for this! Master had, however. As he slid continuously in, I relaxed around his girth as much as I could, still amazed to feel it pushing me. As he reached a decision to reverse his action I began to squeeze him and draw him into me. It was his turn to gasp. As he withdrew I felt his thickness beating against every nerve in my hole. I was tight as a virgin around him, and twice as sensitive. His riposte was a quicker thrust, shocking me with his length as he headed for my cervix. The brief pain stunned me and he was on his way out before I could react. I decided that I didn't want to, as the pain was so delicious in it's fulfilling intensity that I wanted more. He pushed into me a few rapid times, whilst my legs began to shudder and I began to tingle in anticipation. Then he withdrew until he was almost out, and I began to fear the discomfort of emptiness. I sat back onto him, and then squeezed as I straightened out away from him. Sat back till I felt him bump deep inside me, then squeezed forward, drawing excitement in physical form from his thick tool. I took great pleasure from the sexy increase in his breathing, volume and intensity. "Stop!" Barked The Mistress. "This is pleasure for you, maid, not for him. Tony, come here!" With that he left me and walked over to her. She placed some kind of rubber band over his cock almost up to his balls. Then she sprayed it with a little bottle that she had. "Now, Tony, if you come, you may lose that other testicle." She smiled up at him. Somehow I could see that right at that moment his dick just wanted to droop, but it couldn't. She looked at me. "You've been trained very well, maid. Tony may need some help." She brought something else out of her bag and walked over to me. "Joni's butterfly." She told me as she strapped belts around my waist and legs and positioned a hard plastic device over my clitoris. Tony repositioned himself, entered, and turned it on. My pleasure was soon completely out of my control as anything I did to the cock inside me only made me hornier, and there was no release from the butterfly. At that point I knew that I was loving this, and I came until I could buck no more. Not many weeks later Master declined to set me up with the exercise equipment after he had set me up in the bound position. "Tonight," he told me, "you'll be able to leave me. The Mistress will be over to pick you up." With that he removed my boots and undid all the bandaging on my feet. Then he removed my belt and dildoes, and my corset. He undid my legs and removed the knee supports. Finally he undid my arms and left me trying to stand. I was unsteady on my unsupported feet, and uncomfortable. He had to help me to my bed. There, lying on it, were two sets of clothing. One was a pair of blue jeans, a t-shirt, some simple underwear, and a pair of trainers. The other was a leather miniskirt and jacket, a corset, some lacy stockings and a pair of high-heeled knee-high boots. Also included in the second pile was my belt and dildos. "Whichever you feel more comfortable in." Said Master, in response to my unspoken question. "Just don't mix and match." The first thing that I discovered was that I was having trouble breathing whilst even sitting up on the bed. Sitting up was tiring me almost as much as standing. I looked at the two piles of clothes and knew that the leather suited me better, but it was so tempting just to see how the jeans looked. I pulled on the cotton knickers with some trouble. I was finding it hard to bend or pull from the waist. The same trouble with the jeans. I crossed my legs to tie on the trainers, but had to tie them loose as I couldn't unpoint my toes easily. I squeezed into the bra, and slipped on the t-shirt. I looked down at myself and noted the t-shirt tapering from my huge breasts into my tightly belted jeans. I stood up, and sat straight back down again. My body just wasn't responding the way it should have been. I tried again, and found that tiptoe was the only way I could stand, and that my buttocks, back and stomach were all being strained. I sat back down and took off the trainers and jeans and pulled on the boots. This time, with the five inch heels, I could stand straight, but the position was still causing my stomach and back some discomfort. I pulled off the t-shirt and bra and slipped into the corset knowing that I would get some needed support for my heavy chest. I pulled the ties as tight as I could and almost felt the relaxation in my abdomen. Now I could stand straight and tall. Now there was only one discomfort. A nagging emptiness exuded from my crotch, front and rear. The simple solution was the one I took. I slipped in the training dildos and arranged my old belt to support them. Somehow they felt like natural parts of my anatomy, and with them I could walk comfortably. Remembering Master's orders I took off the boots and clipped the stockings up to the suspenders on the corset. I pulled up the leather skirt and laced the sides tight around my waist. I pulled on the leather jacket. I stood up and walked. As I sidestepped down the stairs Master looked on in appreciation. My hair was tied back simply and my face was clean. I wore no jewellery or other adornment. My body had been trained to his requirements. I was now fresh for whatever happened next. I was neither sad nor happy to be leaving. Master had told me I was going, and that was it. I never liked pain. I already said that I guess but I need you to know. The reason everything happened the way it did was probably because I never confused pain and pleasure. I tried to avoid pain, and to embrace pleasure. That meant doing as I was told. Doing as I was told meant I lost a certain amount of independence, or at least independent thought. At the point when The Mistress picked me up from Master's, I can't recall thinking about anything other than obeying whomever appeared to be in command. As soon as I left Master's, that became The Mistress. The first new item that I was given at The Mistress's was a breast-pump. As a result of using it six times a day, in conjunction with the continued hormones, it didn't take more than a few days before my breasts were producing colostrums. Everything else was taken away, except my corset, my dildos and belt, and my boots. The second item I was given was a nurses' uniform, which consisted of a pink miniskirt and a pink blouse with electric blue collar and trim. The third was less an item than a treatment. The Mistress took me to a beauty salon where they dealt with everything that had been lacking while I stayed with Master. My hair was shampooed and set, and came out of the drier in a mass of low-lighted curls that bounced off my shoulders. My face was moisture packed, and my eyebrows were tweezed into shape. Whilst my nails were being manicured I was made over with all the colours that I hadn't seen for months. My lips were painted with some kind of dye. Lastly, a small electric machine motored over my eyelids, cheekbones and lips. I was shown the mirror. They had done a good job. My lips were a bold red, not to my taste but truly slutty against my pale skin. Blush accented my cheekbones even under a foundation, and gave my face more shapely emphasis. My eyes were done in a teenager's heavy blue, again not to my taste, but complementing my blonde waves. I didn't realise for a couple of days that the machine had tattooed the colours into my skin. That's why I look like a slut now. It's not through choice. If I want to cover up the colours I have to use even stronger ones, especially for my lips. On the rest of my face I can use a ton of foundation, but that just looks tarty in itself. In the uniform I just looked like Barbie. I had mirrors now, though my room was otherwise almost identical to my old one. The Mistress's place was different. It was not far from a town, and there were always people there. Most were men. Some appeared to be living there. Her maid was a man called Derek. He had real breasts that didn't look large on his frame, but were probably as large as mine. He had stiletto heeled sandals padlocked onto his feet. He had long hair, down to his shoulders. I think it was naturally blond. He was definitely a man, though. She had a butler. His name was Jefferson and he appeared to be a perfectly normal guy. Both of those lived in the house. So did two other men and one woman, called Mickey, Stacey and Katy, who didn't speak, and acted like babies, even down to wetting their adult sized nappies. They cried when they were hungry, and that was my new job, to feed them. Even Katy, who had a pleasant stack of her own, sucked on my engorged nipples. Of course I didn't have enough milk to feed them all, so they took it in turns, one per breast for four meals each. That meant I was up for six regular meals, once every four hours. I also changed their nappies, bathed them and played with them. I soon began to speak baby speak to them. I didn't question the fact that these were all grown adults, or that the two guys probably could have spanked me themselves if I misbehaved, though they were as skinny as rakes. I just got on with the job I was told to do. The babies were my responsibility, but they were The Mistress's to train, just as I was. She kept me on hormones, so soon my milk was flowing to capacity and it was a relief and a pleasure to suckle the babes. When I did have time free The Mistress had me training with her other slaves or serving her guests. Training with her slaves usually involved performing household duties. However I also helped train them sexually. Before I left escort work I had occasionally taken a cock up the arse. I never liked it. One night The Mistress sent me to sleep with Derek, but before she did she removed the dildo from my back passage. When he edged his erect member towards me, his breasts squashing sensuously against my back, I barely realised that he was entering the rear tunnel. In fact, I encouraged it, such was my need for the comforting fullness. As he began to move I squeezed my ring around him to hold him inside, and relaxed it to let him enter further. He took an age to come, and as I felt his member shrink I clung onto it, and didn't let him go. All night I slept contentedly with the plug inside me. I awoke a few times feeling it stretching me as he had his nightly erections and I smiled. I couldn't take him with me to feed the babies and he didn't even stir when they cried. I hurried back to his bed and slipped him back inside me just as soon as I could. In the morning he was gone, and I woke to the empty discomfort. The Mistress had left my plug on the bedside cabinet, and after my morning ablutions I slipped it back in. Most nights from then on I slept with Derek, my job being to make sure he stayed inside me all night, but only in my ass, never my cunt, as he had to get used to only fucking arseholes. My cunt, and arse too, were often used for teaching The Mistress's slaves to control themselves. She knew how good I was with them, and would have me fuck her slaves, while she would punish them if they came, or even if they looked like they were enjoying themselves. My challenge soon became trying to make those men cum, as it became more and more difficult. I began to remember and to employ all the slutty turn-on tricks that I used to use, including shrieks, groans, moans and gasps. I even talked the guys into believing they were the best I'd ever had. Some of them were certainly getting that way! Their punishments for enjoying themselves were flicks with the riding crop, sometimes right across the balls, or electric shocks applied to various parts of their anatomy. Their punishments for cumming would range from whipping to being forced to lick their cum out of me followed by drinking the contents of their own enema bag. None of them wanted to orgasm. Eventually, some of them couldn't, no matter what I did. I guess the result of that mistake was connected with something so painful or repulsive that they physically were unable to do it. Unless The Mistress gave them permission. She often did that just to keep the ability alive. Of course, they still had to have hard-ons, and I know they got something out of what I did, but they just became fucking machines. The Mistress made sure they were also vacuum-stretching their penises whenever they visited. She was creating big-cocked fucking machines. They loved women, I know they did. I could see the lust in their eyes whenever I was in the room. But no matter how quickly I could get their cocks to rise, unless The Mistress told them they could, I couldn't get them to cum. I don't know what they did when they went home. Some of them were married, even with families. Some were good- looking. Some claimed to be local celebrities. As the months passed, more and more men came for the privilege of being transformed into submissive women pleasers. They paid for the pleasure. They paid for my pleasure. I honed my skills, but against The Mistress's conditioning it was eventually to little avail. The Mistress was pleased with me. I was feeding Stacey with the laxative broth that made them unable to control themselves when The Mistress came into the room. Katy was sucking on one of my nipples. "I was having a bit of trouble before I bought you, Nurse." She said to me. "I decided to invest in you because I was having to turn people away, and my last wet-nurse was untrained and uncontrollable. She decided she didn't like these big babies. I almost had to send them away. But you have been a great investment. Both as a nurse to these children, and enabling me to train far more males. In a few more months I will have made back what I spent on you, and then it will all be profit. This makes me very happy, and probably the bank-manager too, though I haven't invited him here yet. Because of this I've decided to invest a little trust in you, and give you a certain amount of freedom. Just remember, if you abuse it, you will go back to Master for a refresher. "Little Katy here handed a lot of things over to me, including her identity. I'm giving it to you. Forget who you ever were, if you still remember anyway. Now you are Katherine Jackson. I updated her driver's license with your photograph, and she has a bank account and a credit card, though you'll have to practise her signature." "What about her?" I asked, as she suckled on my nipple showing no apparent sign that she knew what The Mistress was talking about. "If she ever decides that she wants to grow up then I will raise her to take an alternative, more productive place in this household." "What if she wants to leave, to go back to her old life." "Nobody ever came to this house because they wanted their old life, but if she should decide to leave, and I should decide to let her, then she will take some other girl's place. There are plenty of women who want to be babied, you know. A surprising number. Must be because of their reaction to the pressures of modern working life. Katy was some kind of stockbroker. She made enough in her brief adulthood to afford her to stay here a lifetime. If she grows up again she'll want to be some kind of domestic, I think, or perhaps a nurse, like yourself. You'll need help sooner than that though. I have another girl in diaper training downstairs, and I'll be releasing her to the nursery just as soon as she realises that babies can't talk. You'll have to help me choose another nurse." So I was allowed downstairs to another part of the house. The Mistress showed me the girl soon to be in my care. She was a tall, strikingly pretty brunette, with large, enhanced breasts bouncing free. She couldn't have been more than twenty-five. She was sitting in a corner of a bare room, sucking her thumb. There were thin wires attached to various parts of her body, and even to a large dummy that was on the floor next to her. "If she stops sucking something, she gets shocked." Explained The Mistress. "Same if she straightens her legs too far. I carry this monitor so that if she speaks I can press a button and she gets a bad shock. If she cries, she gets changed or fed, but she has to cry like a baby. Like the other babies she's lost control of her bodily functions because of the laxatives I feed her." "Why is she here?" "She was a doctor, working too hard, and she had some odd requests for her boyfriend when she did get some time alone with him. He heard about this place and brought her here. She asked me to treat her like a baby." "Did she know that it would be like this?" "I don't know. It doesn't matter. He's paying and he comes in to check on her progress. When he stops paying, or wants her back, I'll let her go. Before then, she'll be sucking on your breasts on a regular basis, and I can see you like that idea!" I smiled. She was definitely a babe. We moved on to the next room. Inside were two women talking. I took a second glance as they looked round at us. Not two women, but one woman, and one man, though it was hard to tell. Both were quite tall, around five nine. Both had long blonde hair and both were dressed in pretty summer dresses that hung loosely over their slim bodies. "This is Nathan, and this is Christopher." Said The Mistress, introducing them. I did a double take when the prettier woman was revealed to be called 'Christopher'. The guy had no manly attributes to his face at all. "Both are here today to apply for the nursing vacancy. Go ahead, Katherine, it's your choice as to who you wish to have join you." I looked at Christopher and felt much more comfortable with the idea of having a guy who looked completely feminine as a nurse rather than a guy who just didn't quite make the grade, though Nathan could probably pass in most places. So I pointed to Christopher. "Both of you join me in my study in five minutes." Ordered the Mistress, escorting me back out of the room. "Who were they?" I asked her. "They both came to me as cross-dressers within weeks of each other. Their wives had thrown them out so they took the plunge and decided to live en-femme for a while. They wanted to be more feminine so I helped them. Under those frilly knickers they are still male." "But they look so much like women!" "Most of it is an act. They walk, talk and do everything else in life like women, so you think they are. However, the hormones have helped a lot to give them more compelling figures." "Do they want to be women?" "No, and neither are they gay. But they acted disinterested even though their eyes probably wanted to pop out of their heads when they saw you." "So why the hormones?" "It's amazing what you can persuade people to accept if they think it's right for them." "And surely Christopher will be getting more hormones if he's going to nurse?" "Oh, yes. Very powerful ones that will give him a more voluptuous figure and