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"... Both parties seem to feel some need of the other: for the torturer, it is a sense of omnipotence, without which he'd find it hard perhaps to exercise his profession - the torturer needs to be needed by the tortured; Whereas the man who's tortured finds in his torturer a human voice, a dialogue for his situation, some partial exercise of his human condition - he asks for pity, to go to the bathroom, for another plate of soup. He asks for the results of a football game." Jacobo Timerman, 1981 Torture victim from Argentina "Meat Eater" By Quiet Savage Everyone hates lawyers, true, but John was a particularly bad one. He did everything a clich?d scumbag did - defending and getting off guilty A-holes for living, coke lines till he couldn't smell and his favorite poison - whores. John's father was a hard-core misogynist and John himself despised his mother's weakness. John viewed the fairer sex simply as sex toys, as being less than human. He had a special interest in rough sex. He often took overseas sex trips where he could explore the depths of his perverted lust with women who would or could not fight him. But things sometimes change; the monster fell in love. She was a nice sweet girl who also had a strong will and knew just when to, as well as when not to, back down. To say that this woman and their marriage was good for John would be quite an understatement. He tried to pull himself together and fly right - not always achieving it but coming dammed near close. Unfortunately, it was not to last. Seven years into the marriage she died of a terminal disease, leaving John with a 5- year-old son. Without his wife's loving devotion and guiding hand John was soon back to his old tricks. At first he tried to protect his son from what he was doing but by the child's twelfth birthday it was clear that he just did not care, dragging the child to Bangkok and the back streets of Tijuana, often leaving him in the hotel alone or worse yet sitting outside a club waiting for his dad. However, it would be an oversimplification to say John neglected the child. There were times when John and his son had a very close relationship. They both loved motorcycles and football and a sex trip abroad were perfect times to also take in a race or a game. And the child himself adored his father. He loved spending time with him and talking on the plane. To him John was a loving affectionate father; to him John was a god. Even as strange as it sounds John took the child to these places out of a misguided sense of duty. After all, in John's mind, it was better to bring the kid and spend time with him then to leave him with a nanny or worse yet at a boarding school. After all it's a well-known fact those places were a breeding ground for fairies. And the kid got to see the sites! By the time he was 14 he had seen more of the world outside the US then most people see in a lifetime. There was even a thought that seeing what he was doing would toughen the kid up. John could see he and his son in a few years high five-ing in a strip joint after banging the same whore, now that's male bonding! And so it was just after his fourteenth birthday John's son was standing outside a Rio sex club when a van pulled up. And then, John's son was gone. Coming out of the club John was not immediately worried. He just figured that the child had wondered down the street, it had happened before. It was no big deal. So he waited and waited and after an hour he HAD become very worried. He walked the surrounding streets, he called the hotel and finally he called the cops. First the cops where more interested in just why he had brought his son to such a place, to which John with a lawyerly zeal defended his right to do what he wanted. He had done it before without a problem! He was only in the place for 20 minutes! But then John was told the awful truth - people are kidnapped in Brazil all the time, it was an epidemic. This was quite a shock to John, for all his world travel he had never been scared or fearful and despite the run down neighborhoods and dark places he commonly visited it never occurred to him that he or his son where in any real danger. After all, America is a big tough country and those piss ant foreigners where scared if it and its citizens! The U.S. and its people could go anywhere they dammed well please and everyone would just roll over. Or, so John thought. But the idea of real danger sunk in over the weeks as he repeatedly met with the police, the military and the US embassy. The other thing that sunk in was that there was nothing that anyone could do about it. John was told that the reason most people are kidnapped is money. All he could do was wait for the kidnappers to contact him with a ransom demand, it could take a week or it could take months. So that's what he did, that's what he had to do. The note did come, it was short and cryptic and left both the authorities and John frustrated. "We have your son. We don't plan to kill him at the present time. Be seeing you!" That was it! No proof of life, no indication of who they where and, most oddly, no demands! === Everything was black, the blindfold worked totally and it never came off. How long was it? A few days? Weeks? The boy did not know. He had no clear perception, everything was foggy. He felt weak and kept drifting out of consciousness. He knew he was chained but was aware of little else. Sometimes he could feel people lifting and moving him. Other times he was spoon-fed but had little ability to chew or swallow, even these simple tasks required too much energy. There were things in or on his body but they were more pressures than pains. Clearly he was being drugged. His only real conscious thought was that he could make no sound, not even a moan. === The blindfold was off; he was lying in a bed covered by a blanket. As he slowly came around he became aware of his surroundings- it was a small bare white room, a window, a table, a mirror and a door. There was still pain and pressure in and on his body. He knew something was wrong, something different. He felt ill as he pulled away the sheet. On his chest where two large mounds, they did not look like normal female breasts instead they looked like half cut melons. Still passing in and out of consciousness his next willful act was to reach for his crouch. Shit! His head spun, it was gone. He tried to groan to the empty room and instead felt the air rush through his throat. She had finally come to complete consciousness. Too scared to know what to do she sat on the edge of the bed in shock. There was a click and the door swung in. A man in a white suit entered. She sprang up. He offered her a glass of water and a pill saying that it would relax her. The young girl tried to speak her objection but found no sound. The man raised his voice telling her in accented English that, "Here you do what you are told, when you are told if you want to remain safe." Frightened, she took the pill and with shaking hands drank the water. After taking back the glass he smiled down at her, "That's better, first you should know your vocal cords have been cut. It's best if you do not try to speak. You have many questions, all that matters is - I brought you here. I'm doing what I want with you. You have had sexual reassignment surgery. You have been here a month. The length of your stay depends on your progress and your attitude." He reached into an inside jacket pocket and slammed a small pile of colored paper on to the table by the bed, "I know how you American girls enjoy such things." It was three magazines "Teen Scream", "Teen Dream" and a teen fan magazine called "Cory." Turning back to her, "I will leave you now. You do all that is required of you or you will be hurt." As he closed the door he turned again and spoke very deliberately, "Yes, also. We don't want to kill you, but we will if we have to. Here you are nothing." The door locked behind him leaving the teen trembling. Over the next few hours the girl explored the room. There was a small vent high above the bed. The window was made of thick plastic and faced a brick wall several floors above a blind alley. All the furniture was made of plastic covered steel and was very sturdy. Wrapped only in the blanket, that's all she had, she approached the plastic mirror. Her face was the same, boyish but different somehow; softer, but not by much. The breasts looked extremely odd - they didn't hang. They just looked like something shoved under the skin. But the oddest thing was exploring her new genitals. She had to touch them but just to be sure they were real. Her blood ran cold as she slowly manipulated herself. He was half expecting it to feel numb but was surprised how it felt part of her. She quickly got freaked out and slammed herself back on to the bed. Then came the realization that she had to pee. Squatting over a small bucket in the corner was not pleasant and neither was the uncontrollable nature of the stream. He used to be able to point his penis, but this was no longer an option for her. As the room dimmed with the setting of the sun she heard the door mechanism open again. Two men entered - one was very large. The other, a smaller man with a goatee, spoke in a thick accented voice, commanded really, "Carne! Stand up! Bend over!" The teen cowered in the corner staring back at the man. He repeated his statement with the same result. He then spoke to the large man who proceeded to grab, then flip the struggling teen over. She felt a pinch in her butt. Everything became cloudy. The next day she slowly woke from a fog. On the table along with the magazines was a paper plate with a meal and clothing. She tentatively approached the items. In a neat pile were a pair of white panties and a pink tank top with a small red heart on the front. This was insane! He wasn't going to wear that! But as the time ticked away she realized that it was better this than nudity. With shaking hands she pulled the panties up her legs and the shirt over her head. The panties didn't fit and hung off her ass and the shirt didn't fully cover her, exposing her midriff. === It had been three months since his son had gone missing and John was setting up an apartment in Rio. He planned to live part time in the apartment and travel back and forth between California. He wanted to stay near the abduction site, so the kidnappers would know that he was close and available. He kept in touch with the police but they could not move forward without more information. Besides they were overloaded anyway and, John thought, corrupt. He had explored other options including a private investigator. But the PI could do little more then ask around. John even went to a psychic, which was a joke - "You will find your son where you least expect it, what was once clearly seen is now hidden." Yeah, great! Thanks. But leads, and hope, do, in fact, show up where and when you least expect them. One night while John was drinking away his troubles in a darkened corner booth of a strip joint he was approached by a man in a white suit who introduced himself as the owner of the club. The man spoke excellent English and he and John made small talk till the man brought up his son. "How do you know about that?" John asked in shock. "There is little I do not know." the man replied. What came next was an unnerving offer to help. The man explained that the police where corrupt and impotent, which John already knew. But there was more. There was another reason besides ransom to kidnap a child - white slavery. Children went missing at 8 or 10 and where pimped out to pedophiles. As they grew the girls where moved to straight prostitution and the boy sold as "toys" to the wealthy or into hard labor. In Brazil there was a near endless supply of street children but usually these people looked for something more "substantial" and "clean", white children of foreigners being the most coveted prize. "And you are in contact with these people?" John asked. The man in the white suit took a puff of his cigar and leaned back, "My business dealings, very complex." He then motioned to the dancing women, "Not all these women fully chose to be here, some of them needed a 'push'... but what I give them is a rich full rewarding life. Compared to the lives they would have had dying toothless and used at forty in some slum or jungle village." He turned back to John, "But I never touch children! The Girls here, they come no younger then fifteen and not less then sixteen when they work the floor." The thought of his son being a "toy" made John sick! But he could not forget himself; the idea of a white slavery ring did turn him on. === How long had she been here? Carne (that is what they called her here) often turned the question over in her mind. There was no sense of time, only day and night and too many of those to count. Months? A year? Maybe more? Her body had radically changed. First her breasts, once stiff mounds had descended and enlarged forming two fleshy globes on her chest. Her panties no longer hung empty but stretched full and taught across her enormous soft jiggly ass. These where effects of the large amounts of hormones she was injected with and fed daily but other things had been more work for the doctor. Her stomach and lower abdomen had been liposuctioned leaving only a thin layer of fat and ensuring she would always have a very slim waist. The face was a twisted work of art and the most confusing for Carne herself. The nose job was very strange indeed - the bridge had been lowered very flat to the face and the nostrils opened wider. Carne could feel something under the skin, a hard ring in each nostrils holding it open wide. A small flap of skin had been folded in front of her eyes. The baby fat had been sucked from her cheeks giving them a hollow look. Her lips where now very large, surgically enhanced to maximum fullness. The lips and her now enlarged areolas were tattooed over a light brown. Her hair was now dyed a jet black. And her skin was now a deep brown the dual effect of a deep tan and a bronzing cream she was forced to apply to herself every few days. All this was to disguise and confuse her true race. The only thing that the little white boy from California could see of himself was his dark greenish/blue eyes and even those where only seen a few minutes a day before he applied the brown contacts they forced him to wear. She would often stare long in the mirror wondering just what they had made of him. Not black. Not oriental or central Asian. She was something she had not seen before and all woman; well, girl. All the major action happened out of her sight at night. The doctor would come in and make her bend over for an injection (she no longer fought it.) She would then quickly fall unconscious. Usually she would wake up the next morning very groggy but none the different then when she was put down. Those were the best mornings; each night as the drugs took their effect she knew it was a crapshoot. The less awkward days where the ones when she woke up to some pains in her body, mostly her breasts, anus and her new genitals. Sometimes she had strange bruises or irritation on her skin. But other times she would wake up and major surgery had been preformed. On these times she was chained so, "she would not hurt herself." Even her tanning took place at night. Though she knew they took her out of the room each night her conscious mind never left the room, in all the time she had been in this place she was never allowed to see any of the facility outside her cell. How long had it been? It really didn't matter, what worried her most now is where she was going after this place. After spending so much time, energy and money they where not going to release her free onto the street. She did have some idea as she glared at the cardboard box under the table. It was full of trinkets - a stuffed rabbit holding a heart, a "hello kitty" eraser, more teen magazines (each well read, what else was there to do!), a small make up kit and a dozen tubes of lipstick, different colors of nail enamel (currently her fingers and toes were painted a shade of light yellow) and several dozen other things. All these things where "gifts" from the man in the white suit. The man was very unpredictable. He would appear every few days. Sometimes he would launch into an hour-long monolog on all sorts of topics - world politics, the nature of men and women, the missed opportunities of history or just local football. Sometimes he would be more demeaning like the time he made Carne take off her top (she never wore more than panties and a top) and jump up and down. Other times he would just enter her cell and sit on the edge of her bed reading a paper as she quietly looked on. The box was testament to his practice of ending each visit with a small gift. From the talks Carne had extracted some precious information. The man was a man of means who was bored, he originally filled the void in his life by subjugating women but soon found it too easy and "common." This was till the day when he read a story about forced feminization. The story captured his heart, mind and other important organs. But it was just a story; he would make it real. He took a man who was smart but struggling and paid his way to a top medical school. The man, now indebted to him became the butcher know to Carne only as "The Doctor." On the surface the doctor was a respectable member of society but under he was rotten, doing the white suited man's every bidding without question. This was not the first time he and the doctor had done something like this. They had done it many times before. Some were highly successful, others; mostly early ones; were less so. Many, like Carne he pointed out, went quietly into the night. But "just as some men are women other men or men." These, for the man in the white suit, where the most fun. They fought and cried about what they had become. They would argue that their bodies where not their own. The man in white took great pleasure in devising duties and tasks to prove them wrong. Forcing them under his thumb. A splash of cum in their new cunts, across their expanded ass or on their face was definite proof to an observer of what they were, but making them smile and thank the cum's owner compulsively was proof in their own mind. In the end they all broke. Carne WAS different in one way. No longer content simply with male to female transformations the man wanted to move forward with something new. The ability to change a male of one race into a female of another race intrigued him. It was decided that the best, and most radical, foundation for such a transformation would be North Europeans with light skin and straight features. While all the other male victims where of local origin, Carne was the first foreigner. She was a test bed for many of the things to come next. Carne imagined white male children (or adults) disappearing and Vietnamese, Central American, Arab, Philippine, Korean, or even Liberian black females appearing shortly afterwards. "Yes," the man once mused, "there is a skin tinting procedure, similar to full body permanent makeup, I wish to try out." Luckily for Carne he was not yet ready to be that ambitious, the skin stain was enough for now. Carne was also the first to have her vocal cords cut. The man in the white suit and the doctor could not figure out a method to force a foreign tongue or accent onto their victims. Permanently shutting them up was the next best thing. What Carne didn't know was that the men where feminized on a sliding scale. The less they fought the more "womanly" they should be. For men that scratched and bit and pounded on the door for days or tried to harm their new bodied a small waif body was all that was required to shame and humiliate them completely. It was enough to know that they had a pussy and breasts. Carne was so calm and compliant. Only a few times had they had to get physical with her and she never merited a serious beating. The doctor made a note of the fact that the very first day, the first day mind you, that she was given nail enamel she used it. Many of the women went weeks before attempting to apply it, others where so resistant that they had to be threatened with force before they applied it. The doctor chucked it up to a mix a youth (younger men came around easier) and the strange lack of machismo in the American culture. He then upped her hormone level. To Carne it was simple - she was bored and it was something to do. To the man in white it was also simple - after handing over a small vile of perfume he looked down at her full B-cups poking through her shirt and said, "Those breasts don't suit you." A few days later Carne was sporting near Double D's. === Over two years since the original disappearance had gone by. John now drifted back and forth between his home in California and his apartment in Rio. He now exclusively spent his time at the man in white's club. Not only had the man kept hope alive, but now everything was free! The Drinks, the food and the women all free! John figured that the man wanted to help and failing that offered him this as compensation. Another benefit was that the man and John had now become fast friends - their world views were so similar. John had always been the "bad boy" but this man? He was off the hook! In public even in his own club he was a class act - well spoken, friendly and clean. But John had seen the other side was well. Once as John was getting a blow in a back room the whore pulled her mouth away at the last moment causing John to shoot his load onto her body and the floor. As John pulled up his pants he felt a hand pull him back. The man in white stepped forward and slapped the still kneeling whore across the face and began to berate her in Portuguese. The whore, trembling, knelt forward sticking her tongue out and slowly licked the stray cum from the dirty floor. John smiled, it was comforting to find someone like himself. The man turned to John, "Will not happen again. This girl makes a lot of money for her family. She knows better than that." === Carne's final measurements where in, 97-60-92cm (38-24-36in). How the hormones and other drugs had worked where beyond reason, it was less like forcing the male body to take female shape than bringing a natural female forward from it's male shell. At 1.7 meters (5'5") and at sixteen the doctor was sure she had stopped growing. 61kg (135lb) was a little overweight but Carne carried it well, she was a very "hippy" full girl. The breasts where simply incredible, despite their size on her small frame they looked and hung naturally. But her best feature, at least for the doctor, was her skin. The pink stained brown produced and even and flawless color. It turned the Doctor on very much. Unknown to Carne or the man in white the Doctor had been fucking her on a regular basis. Twice a week she was removed from her chamber at night to have her pussy dilated and anus stretched. These times where his opportunity, douching the unconscious girl afterwards to remove the evidence. He had done it with other girls before but there was something about Carne that kept him coming back to cum again. Carne unaware, that this was her last day in this place, sat up on her bed reading "Care and Feeding of the Male to Female Transgender Genitals." The Stack of papers had been given to her a few weeks ago by the man in white. The paper about caring for her genitals had been "dumbed down" to her reading level but there where still many words in it that she did not understand. This was the third or fourth time she had read it. As she heard the door lock being thrown she placed the document on the table and with a grunt (the limited vocal ability she had recovered) she pushed herself off the bed. She knew the drill and was already bent over her bed when the doctor fully entered the room. To her surprise the doctor pulled her panties down farther then normal. Then proceeded to give her ass a quick slap! As he watched the wave of jiggle flow from one side of the cheek to the other the Doctor considered how much he would miss this girl. Carne felt the familiar prick then lay down on her bed as the grogginess overtook her. === "Something is dramatically different." was Carne's first thought as she came around; the bed was so much softer. The room was very similar in size and shape to where she had been. There was a small table, lamp and dresser. But there was no window and the room was gaudy, the walls being covered in red with gold flake wallpaper. The bed was larger, softer and had a high wrought iron headboard. Instead of a door there was a velvet curtain. Carne lifted her wrist eyeing a pair of leather bracelets. They seemed to have no beginning or end, just a solid band of leather encircling her wrist and in each there was imbedded an iron d-ring. Carne could also feel a similar band around her neck. With such a limited view she was soon focused on the sounds of her new surroundings, panting, moaning, and cries of lust. From time to time she could hear men and women walking the hall speaking a language she didn't understand. Carne knew where she was - a whorehouse. She pulled the coverers over her naked body and rolled into a fetal position fearing what was to come next. Her fears where soon rewarded. She heard a familiar voice coming down the hall and the curtain was flipped open, it was the man in white. He was speaking to someone behind him, "She is very interesting, you will find this most rewarding." Then in from the curtain stepped another man. Carne's eyes widened as she recognized her father! She sprung from her bed not caring about her exposed nakedness and through her arms around him pushing her large breasts into his chest. John looked down at the dark creature embracing him, "Frisky isn't she?" In her enthusiasm Carne had forgotten how much her appearance had changed since he last saw his father. And the growing tent in John's pants was evidence that she was unrecognizable. The man in white pulled them apart and in one quick motion he grabbed her two delicate wrists, he bound and locked them to the ring under her chin. Next her knees buckled as the man in white kicked her legs out from under her. A new sense of terror gripped Carne as she looked up the two men discussing her situation. It was the first time she fully realized what her body had been made for; she was not just a girl, she was a sex object. She wanted to cover herself, to hide her large breasts, to protect her pussy. But she now could do neither. "She comes from an English speaking island. She though? She does not talk. Brain damage maybe?" The man in white, shrugged his shoulders and continued, "Such a girl is useless and an embarrassment to her family. She came at a very good price." He then drew out his next few words slowly, "Her implants are worth more than the total of the rest of her." "She is young and fresh, very few partners. And, as a friend, I want you to have her. As your personal girl." The site of the weak buxom girl on the floor had made John rigid, but her being his was nearly too much. The men continued to discuss the situation to Carne's horror. The girl would continue to live in the club; it was more secure, till she was fully and completely "broken." John would "teach" her from the ground up to be his. Then she would move to John's apartment as a maid and sex toy. Losing his son was terrible for John but meeting this man, it was a stroke of luck he could hardly believe. It was like one of those insane stories one reads about in a cheap porno novel or an S&M story on the Internet. But this was real, it was really happening. === John's eye's rolled back into his head as his cock moved in and out of the sixteen-year-olds mouth. The tears streaming down her face only increased his pleasure. He had treated her violently, forcing her shocked face into his crouch and her mouth over his cock. That look, the look of pure terror as though this was "so" incredibly wrong, was priceless. But, John thought, she'll learn. Already she had stopped resisting babying his cock with a gentle suction, this chick was a natural, as though she was born to suck. He grabbed her head and held it as he came in her mouth. He then demanded she swallow. John lay spent on the bed beside his new possession. Over a few hours he had used and abused each of her holes. The girl was such a baby, the whole time keeping up a constant steam of tears. It's not like he didn't take her into account somewhat, he'd use plenty of lube to bang that tight ass. And the man in white was right, she was fresh - her cunt was virgin tight! All went extremely well for his first time with his new pet. Lying on the bed it struck John how insecure this place was. Sure the guards and bouncers would keep Carne from running off but John couldn't be here all the time and anyone could come through that curtain. The idea of a constant stream of men doing her didn't exactly turn him off, but this sassy little thing was his - his to train, his to mold. Carne lay still as she felt her father get up to leave. A strange dissociation had overtaken her. It was all so unreal. Being turned it to a girl was bad but being forced to have sex with her father, by her father was too much. Before she had secretly hoped for rescue, or just some kind of kindness or compassion. But now, after being held down and having her father's rod forced into her? Her mind had been made blank. It was beyond humiliation or shame, she felt herself going insane. But Carne had no idea how bad it would get, she continued to lay motionless as she heard her father return. "Get up, Carne!" John commanded. Submissively she rolled off the bed. John had visited the "toy" room and held his prize before Carne's wide eyes. It was a leather harness designed to go around her waist and between her legs. Hanging from the cross piece where two lewd devices, each held on by steel rings. The first a simple short pink dildo designed to go into her cunt. The other held up for Carne's close inspection, more interesting. It was a pink rubber butt plug molded into the form of a human penis complete with raised veins. "No, father! DON'T PUT ME IN *THAT*! Can't you see who I am! Can't you see I'm your son!?" Carne screamed in her mind. John reached for the lube. === Carne heard something behind her, but paid it no mind. Not only was her ass and cunt still sore from the pounding her father had given them, but they now both had devices locked in them. And her mind was still spinning from the fact that those objects were put there by her own father. Someone behind her cleared her throat and in a feminine voice asked, "Carne?" Carne rolled over to see a lady in a maid's uniform standing beside the bed. She was perhaps 26; petite with a round dark face, which was framed by her cleanly cut and styled black hair. Her breasts where held high and together exposing a deep cleavage. Her outfit, complete with a little hat, was not the classic "French Maid's" uniform but was more a sexier version of a more practical uniform. She introduced herself as "Gato" from the kitchen staff and said she had brought food. "English, yes?" the maid asked. Carne just stared empty at her. Gato held her hand up, triumphantly spreading her fingers apart, "I speak four languages." she said with a big smile on her face. Carne thought that this girl was very proud of herself and rolled over to stare at the wall. In the absence of any response the woman continued, "I don't get to speak English with the girls very much, mostly the men speak it." And again with pride, "I help! Language is very good skill." Getting no response the older woman shrugged her shoulders and left saying that she would be back to get the tray later. When she returned Gato found the tray of food untouched and Carne unmoved. Gato lowered herself onto the bed beside the girl and lightly shook her shoulder repeating "Carne" over and over till the girl rolled over and their eyes met. "Every girl has a bad first day, you will soon be use to it. And you can better yourself!" Gato smiled broadly, "look at me I started as you, then I learn to dance and speak and cook, now only I must do the men I choose, I have responsibilities and am trusted and I get to wear this smart uniform," she then modeled to show off her outfit, "it is nice? Yes? AND..." She thrust her wrist out displaying a gold watch. To Carne it looked cheap; maybe $20USD off the street, but it was shiny with faux diamond chips. She continued, "My BOYFRIEND gave me this." She then shifted and played with the watch, "Well, not my boyfriend, really. But he asks for me every time and only for me. He's not like the OTHERS!" She stressed the word as she stroked the watch, "So gentle and kind," with a big grin she added, "he even brings me flowers." Her attention back to Carne, "Is not so bad being a girl here, being pretty, being wanted. Being desired is very important." Carne was still lost in her own world; she had no interest in what this woman was talking about. She certainly had no interest in a boyfriend. Carne rolled over again and let Gato babble on till finally she got board and just left. This was the first night she had not been given drugs to sleep. But finally, late at night, to the constant cries and moans; her face still wet with tears and the feeling of dried cum on her body, she drifted off. === Early the next morning Carne was awakened by a man she had never seen before. He gave her high waisted panties and a lace trimmed bra. Carne fumbled with the bra, it had been the first time she had been given such a garment. The support felt good but the shameful fact that she needed the support made her feel ambivalent about it. The man led her down the hall, past rows and rows of curtains to the bathroom. He produced a key and unlocked her chastity belt. He then made her douche and give herself and enema. After a quick shower she was made to relube herself and lock her belt back on. She was then given two hormone pills. Her transformation complete, she now only needed a small maintaining dose. And so the routine went, day after day. Each morning she was cleaned and each night her father would dirty her. Every few days she would restain her skin and/or touch up the roots of her hair. For her part Carne was numb. Her body was numb from the constant sex and abuse she experienced at the hands of her father. She was more then happy when he would go home to the United States, leaving her for weeks, so her body could recover. And she was so used to having the butt plug and dildo in that it actually felt painful when she removed them each morning. Emotionally she was just as numb, she spent all her time each and every day in bed blankly staring at the wall or ceiling. There were no teen magazines to read here. Her only distraction was visits by Gato. Twice daily Gato would drift in delivering food. She would also deliver a heavy dose of philosophy - mostly about how great it was to be a girl, to be pretty and to be a prostitute. She was creepily upbeat - when she saw Carne's chastity she went off about how awesome it was. It was great, Gato said, to be wanted so much by a man that he would lock her into that, protecting her from all other men. Carne should be very happy! And Gato sure knew how to run her mouth! Carne got the feeling she was the kind of girl no one ever listened to so over compensated by talking more, which in turn made people want to listen to her even less. But Carne with her own vocal cords cut and her emotional numbness could offer no resistance, giving Gato a free hand to go on endlessly. Gato would tell stories about the customers, TV and movies. Her position in the club hierarchy actually allowed her to go see movies, mostly romantic comedies. Of course, she was required to be escorted on theses outings. She would also tell stories about the other "girls", apparently Gato was not popular, well liked or even accepted by the other whores. Under Gato's relentless pushing some things about Carne had changed. Gato convinced her to not lie in bed stark naked and disheveled, "A pretty girl should wear pretty things." Carne now always wore matching bra and panties all the time. Gato even convinced her to wear stockings and garters. And when given the choice Carne, under Gato's direction, always chose the most feminine of under garments, preferring pinks and whites over more conservative blacks or racy reds. Nearly all her undergarments featured small lace roses. But all this was a side issue - after fitting her feminine undergarments to her large chest and over her hips Carne would just lie down in bed to stare at the wall. One day while sitting on Carne's bed running a brush through the girl's long dark hair, a now common occurrence, Gato couldn't take it any more. The girl was incorrigible and needed shocked back to reality. She spoke softly, "Carne, poor Carne" She then looked at the velvet curtain worriedly and bent over to whisper in the girl's ear, "Carne, I have something to tell you, I have a secret." "I have a secret", she repeated, "they beat me the last time I told, but Carne, Quiet Carne, can keep a secret." Carne just sat there fixed, but the next sentence got her attention. "This is not my body, I was once a man." Their eyes met, "Is true! It was years ago - I was seventeen and a member of a good family and had a beautiful girl of my own; we were to be married." Gato then grew silent, her smiling face quickly growing sad as the memories flooded back. A tear rolled down her cheek, "I was a virgin." She swallowed deeply, the strain of revealing the truth long hidden was overwhelming, "Then I was taken away, I was given these..." she pushed her breasts up and together, "now I am this. And I am NOOOO virgin." She drew out the "NO" almost comically shaking her head to emphasize the point, then looked away. She bit her lip and tried to fake a smile that quickly faded. Not finding the strength to compose herself she pushed on, "It's awful, very bad! Everyday, I was... I am... judged. If not feminine, I was punished severely. If I didn't smile and choose pink and bows I was punished." For the first time Carne felt compassion for Gato and placed her hand on the woman's shoulder only to have it slapped away. She was now balling outright and talking very loudly, "No! You don't understand. Carne's a girl! I am not! Men are disgusting brutes who take what they want, but you? That is normal. Me, it is not." She then quieted down, "Worst? They changed my mind not just my body! I fear masculine objects." She went on to describe a time a man had brought her a car book wanting her to pose like a photo of a girl in it. She could not hold the book she shook so hard. Another time a man had left a tool in her cubical, she was so frightened by this mechanical object, this "tool of a man" she quickly flung it out the door. She then lapsed into her feminine philosophy, "I have other tools now- my ass, my mouth, my breasts, my... ", she paused, "pussy," she paused again, "my cries, my moans," again she stopped and took a much longer pause, "my submission." She let out a fast breath, "Mary!" she prayed, before turning back to Carne. As she gazed into the eyes of the exotic beauty, Gato's own eyes where tiny slits, "I was going to go to university! I was going to be an engineer. Now I fear simple tools!" with one last push of emotion she cried out, "I WAS GOING TO BE SOMEBODY!" The two girls sat on the edge of the bed, both mentally exhausted - one from revealing a long hidden truth the other from feeling emotions that could not be expressed. Carne wanted to cry out that she understood more then Gato could or would ever know. Instead she sat there looking at Gato and Gato sat looking at the floor. The tears now dry and a smile returning to her face Gato again turned to Carne and spoke in a quite whisper, "When Carne was a small girl did she dream of one day having her own man and large family?" Carne did the only thing she could, smiling and nodding in the affirmative. Gato was now fidgeting with her gold watch, "When I was a girl..." she stopped, "...a young man, I wanted a wife. Many kids. Many sons." She played with the watch then said something very strange, almost in a subaudible whisper, "Mother Gato, daughter Carne and husband makes three." Carne watched the now composed Gato rise and daintily walk out of the room. === The next few weeks continued as they had before. John returned from America and was visiting Carne nightly. The belt had actually come in handy. One night a large drunk man stumbled through Carne's curtain, he pulled her from her bed but was unable to remove the belt. He could only force her face down into his crouch. It was a disturbing incident but somehow getting off with only a blowjob didn't seem so bad, especially considering the man's girth. The only thing that really changed was the friendship between Carne and Gato. Carne tried to smile in Gato's presents more often, to look interested when she talked and generally tried to reciprocate Gato's warm feelings. Carne now understood that Gato was not an insane "happy hooker", but a real person who was damaged. In fact she now respected and understood Gato's philosophy - if she was forced to be feminine, to fear all things masculine, she would accept it and take it to the next level. A philosophical system based on femininity, a logical system of beliefs on the advantages of being as feminine as possible was more than an ego defense mechanism, it was a work of genius. "Yes," Carne concluded, "Gato is a genius." One night Carne was healing from a particularly rough session with her father when Gato came in, tears were in her eyes as she threw the food on the table, "I asked him." The tears were dripping it to the food, "I asked him." she repeated again, "I asked him to buy our freedom. I said I could cook. I said we could be a family. I said I would be a good wife." She inhaled deeply "I told him I loved him." Gato turned to her friend, "He laughed at me! Called me a silly girl! Said I just a whore!" Carne jumped up to consol her friend, "These tools... They are not enough; I cannot improve out of this! As good as it gets, no better!" "Carne can not talk. But Carne tell me, I've been good? I've been feminine? I have lived this life as best I could? I've been more woman than any other? I've done everything right? Tell me this, Carne." She then sobbed forward slamming her little fists into the table, "I've earned something of my own!?! Haven't I?!?" Carne did not know how to respond. She moved her friend around. When they were face to face she moved forward, their lips and tongues entangled. It wasn't planned, it just seemed to happen. To an onlooker it would have been a very lewd site indeed - two women, one in a sexy maids uniform and the other a busty teen in lace lingerie, locked in a long passionate kiss. To Carne it was her way of silently saying, "I am yours, if you want me." The kiss, for the first time since his abduction made Gato feel like a man. His lips, instead of being a passage for something hard and rigid, were touching something soft and sensual. In that moment he knew his own body, soft and sensual itself, was not the body of a man, the man he knew he was. As their lips parted Gato cast her eyes down, "This watch is all I have. It is Carne's, She is my only friend." She pushed the watch into Carne's hand then walked out leaving Carne alone and somewhat confused about what just happened. The next day Gato did not appear, another women in a uniform delivered her first meal. When the woman came with the second meal Carne grabbed her as she attempted to leave. She waved the watch in the woman's face and somehow she got the message. "Gato?" she asked. Carne nodded in agreement. The woman looked at her feet and whispered, "O suic?dio." Carne shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. The woman walked over to the meal tray and picked up the plastic knife. She then made two quick strokes in the air over her wrist. She then made a slashing motion across her throat. The horrible truth then dawned on Carne, her friend had committed suicide. === Over the next few weeks Carne tried to make peace with what had happened. The new woman did not speak English and had no interest in the girl. Again Carne had become numb. One day after returning from her morning cleaning Carne found a floral pattern dress on her bed. The sheer fabric clung to her figure and was so thin one could see through it. The neck swooped low giving a good view of her cleavage. A lock was placed through her wristbands fixing her arms behind her back. A dog leash completed the outfit. Carne squinted as she saw the sunlight for the first time in a long time. She next noticed the people staring at her, staring at the buxom woman being lead on a leash to a car. But, by this time Carne was beyond shame. She pushed out her enormous breasts and with a straight back followed the man in the white suit. === John paced back and forth in the living room of his apartment. It was incredible! After years the man in the white suit had come through - his son was coming home! The white slavery ring was willing to part with his son for a mere $70,000 USD. The money sat in a briefcase by the door waiting to be handed off. Finally the door buzzer rang. The man in the white suit entered, he was followed by his "gift" to John. John anxious to get his son immediately handed over the briefcase. The man handed over a large padded envelope then a classy leather folder saying it was the key to finding his son. John flung the book open and began to flip the pages. His eyes became enormous saucers. He then dropped the book and, lightheaded, braced himself against the wall in a fit of dry heaves. The book was a picture book, a series of photographs illustrating a story. The first of the series was a B&W of his son lying unconscious on a metal table; the next was of the child with his penis, what John first thought, hidden. Each surgery, each change, had it's own photo all cumulating in a full- page color photo of John fucking Carne from behind. He looked over at the creature he had been banging for the past six months; John's son was home. === John looked at the documents and papers spread out across the table. Carne, or his son, was standing out on the balcony overlooking the city. There were two ways John could go from here. First, go to the police with the leather bound photo album. He imagined the police swooping down on the sex club, busting everyone and the man in white getting exactly what he deserved. But John was not confident in this plan, after all, this man was already far above the law. This plan also had serious drawbacks for both him and his son or daughter, OR WHATEVER. John imagined the worldwide scandal of an American boy forcibly being turned into a racially ambiguous girl. He imagined the investigative reports and tabloid headlines - "Boy turned in to girl, then raped by father!" all with a picture of John swatting a camera away. This would be something that followed him and his son for the rest of their lives. And, just as important, while those involved may get justice, it still wouldn't change anything, what was done was done forever; there was no going back for the son he lost. Was it worth risking more destruction? The other way was the easy way out. No one needed to know anything about this. He had not reported the impending homecoming of his son to anyone, he had been instructed not to. This option was made very attractive by the man in white himself. Along with the papers on how to care for the girls new body, a formula for skin stain and an exhaustive list of each and every procedure; surgical or otherwise; that had been preformed on the girl was a set of "official" documents. There were Brazilian citizenship papers, a passport and an American visa for Carne to visit the United States for medical reasons. There was also a letter from the "American Christian Medical Fund" stating that the mute girl had specialist in America waiting to restore her voice. The letter was a fake but all the papers seemed pretty solid. Carne was coming through the glass door. A man on the street had noticed the hot girl on the balcony and was calling for her to come down. Embarrassed, the girl retreated inside. John watched his son sway her hips as she crossed the room. The decision was made; he could not deal with THAT being called his son. They would not be able to pick up where they had left off but, John thought, they could live a fairly "normal" life. John could claim that the girl was an illegitimate daughter or even an illegal maid. They would work out the story when they got home. === They had made it just fine into the United States. Carne was now set up in the room he lived in when he was John's son. It was no longer the room of a rough and tumble young boy but with a woman's touch had changed into the soft and light room of an older teen girl. Carne's skin had now reverted back to its original color, which now made her transformed face look all the more odd. Her hair had grown out and now clearly showed blond roots. John had begun to accept what had been done to Carne and himself. In fact, he had begun to accept it so completely that he was beginning to resent the daughter he now had. There was nothing of his son he could recognize and identify with in this person. This was not his boy who now had a girl's body but a girl, Period! The day after they had gotten home John had taken her out to get clothing. She walked right past the cotton panties and cheap mass- market bras to the lace and patterned undies of the lingerie section. And the girl actually bought garters and stockings! This wasn't the 40's; no women actually wore those things these days. And the other clothing she bought where no better - light pastel colors and all girly girl. She didn't even buy a single pair of pants. When John asked her about these choices she commented, through a pad she now constantly wore around her neck, that she was a girl now and she needed to be appropriately feminine. But she wasn't a girl? Neither of them had chosen it, but yes, she was a girl now. John countered that her choices should be more about comfort or fitting in with the other girls of her age group - wouldn't she be more comfortable in jeans and a T-shirt? NO! NO! NO! The girl insisted, femininity was the key. She them wrote a whole paragraph about some friend she had back in the bordello who had some ideas that seemed valid... or something. It was too long for John to read or care. What had they done to my little boy? They not only changed his body but also had driven him insane. He was free now. He was free to make his own choices, and still, he chose femininity. The more she slipped into feminine ways the more John resented her, to him femininity was weakness. Another issue was the men. With no other woman in his life had John been so keenly aware of the eyes of those around him. And instead of learning to accept it or dressing down to avoid it, Carne seemed to look to him for protection. She once squeezed his arm so tight his circulation was cut off. The worst part though is John knew how they felt. As the once sickening news that this was his son slowly became accepted by his mind, so too did his old feelings about her slowly return. At first it was flashes of lust as she bent over or smoothed her dress a top her breasts and then he found himself contemplating her powerlessness and her dependence on him. As his attraction to her increased so did his attachment to the idea of doing something about it. Carne was totally unaware of the dynamic nature of her father's lust. The retching, the sickness he initially displayed, the fact he had not touched her, made any indication of their past or his feelings had convinced her that her father could be trusted, within reason. She still knew not to go prancing around the house topless but as time when by she became more and more comfortable, and bolder. That was the situation on both sides when things came to a head. Carne had just come in from the pool, dressed only in a bikini. Had she noticed her father observing her before hand she would have covered herself with a robe or a towel. She stretched across the kitchen island to reach a piece of fruit. She didn't realize the danger she was in when she heard her father enter the room behind her. He had had enough, he couldn't take it anymore. In John's lust crazed mind, it was time to take what was his. He forced her down onto the counter. She swung wildly behind her but was easily controlled. Her bikini bottom was ripped off exposing her waiting sex. Within arm's reach was the cooking oil; extra virgin olive oil seemed too ironic. He was soon in her. Pounding her. Forcing her up off her feet. Forcing her legs into the sharp corners of the counter. By the time he had finished using her she had stopped struggling. How could he do it? In her mind Carne had forgiven him because he didn't know what he was doing. But now, he knew. He knew exactly what and who she was and still he does this! Oh, here comes the water works! John glared down at the half naked heap on the floor before him, oil and cum still dripping from her cunt. She was franticly writing something on her pad. He ripped the tablet from her neck, "We don't need you 'talking' anymore!" He then sent the tablet sailing across the room, hitting the wall and landing in the corner. It read a single word, "Please..." He then grabbed her arm and dragged her across the floor to the broom closet. She heard the door lock behind her. A few hours later Carne was being led down the stairs to a basement storage unit. John had cleaned out the boxes. Under the fluorescent light she could see that it had been converted into a makeshift cell. There was a sleeping mat with a pillow and blanket on the concrete floor and otherwise the room was empty. The door was closed behind her and pad locked. === At first John had felt somewhat guilty about what he was doing. But as time went by his guilt began to matter less and less. How could something so wrong feel so good! He thought, "If it makes you happy it can't be THAT bad." Carne kept in motion with the music, she had practiced to this song before and knew just when to bump her hips and grind. She moved slowly over to her father, there was a broad smile on each of their faces. His was from ecstasy, her's from the fact that expressing unhappiness was simply not allowed. Her hair was black and her skin was stained a deep brown again. Gone where all the feminine clothing she had chosen. If she didn't know how to dress then I'll dress her, John thought. There where no pinks or lace, only "slut wear" - open top demi cups and hot pants. Her moves were courtesy of the video, "Amateur Stripping for the Wife: How to Get In Shape and Please Your Man." It was one of the many videos and books John had given her. Carne had now accepted, if reluctantly, that this was the way her life was to be. John knew this and had long ago accepted the girl into his bed. The cell in the basement was now just a threat or there when he wanted her out of the way. Each morning he awoke to her mouth working his shaft and each night she went to sleep with a "deposit" of John's in one of her other holes. Father and son have never been closer. Copyright 2004 Quiet Savage [email protected]