Bitched - Part 1 free porn video

Bitched - Chapter 1. In a way I was lucky, I guess. I mean, shit, it could have been worse. After all, I still had my health... after a fashion. First things first -- you've got it all wrong. Thinking about changing genders is definitely erotic. I didn't know about places like this, places on line, before it happened to me. But I'd thought about it at times, and sure, it turned me on. So that's the first thing; after the initial shock and weirdness, you get used to it. Quickly. Too quickly. That's what we're built to do, humans - we adapt. My sensibilities haven't really changed, but you get used to having a little extra on your chest and your ass. Proportionately, that is. I'm usually - that is, I used to be a lot bigger than I am now. Okay, so nobody gives a shit about my philosophical musing. Tell you what, if it'll make you feel better, pretend I wake up every morning and shiver with erotic delight to look like this. I guess the more interesting part is how it happened anyway. Cue the "flashback music"... Here in San Francisco, where I've lived most of my life, there are a lot of what you might call "trust fund babies" - people whose parents or grandparents or relatives further back made crap loads of money and took good care of it. Real estate prices here are prohibitively expensive, so while it's possible to make it in the Bay Area on an average or below average salary, inheriting a bunch of dough when you turn 18 or 21 helps. I did - about ten million and change; about that much went to my older sister and my younger brother as well. It'll probably sicken you to learn that my folks didn't have to die or anything for us to get that money - they are still very much alive and that $30 million that was split between me and my siblings barely dented their assets. Knowing Pop and how sneaky/smart/whatever he is, it probably worked to his advantage somehow. Okay, so I love my folks, don't get me wrong, and I love my siblings, but all this cash and our lifestyle really got to me as I reached adulthood. It wasn't that we were so extravagant (my childhood was surprisingly normal), nor heartless (we gave a lot to charity and, in fact, my mom did a ton of volunteer work) - we were just really removed from the concerns of the real world. I wanted to succeed, and I wanted to do it on my own, in an industry I was passionate about. I took about half my inheritance and started a company. Doesn't really matter what our business was, does it? I did it the right way - started small, with a few trusted, motivated employees. We grew bigger. Made a name for ourselves amongst industry insiders. Hired a few more people. Kept growing. I stayed very involved in the day-to-day operations, even as the scope of what we were doing changed. I got my hands dirty, in accounting work, in patent filings, in office redesign, contract brokering - you name it. And five years later, as a 27-year-old man, I found myself owning a company worth a fortune - worth more than double what I'd invested. And damn, I was happy. And here's where things get ugly. Or pretty, maybe, if you want to be funny or whatever. I was supposed to meet with Ryan Jurek, the chief executive at one of our key business partners to discuss a number of things. He was a lot like me in terms of being a workaholic, although he was about 20 years my senior. Our usual routine was for me to meet him at the on-site on his company's campus (he'd given me a key). We'd play some racquetball or shoot some hoops, and talk about business in-between games. When it was over, we'd always hit the showers and go back up to his office to put whatever we'd talked about on paper. Really, it was relationships like these that made my hard work worth it, even more than the financial aspect. I looked forward to these meetings. I knew Mr. Jurek felt the same. So when he failed to show after 20 minutes, I was concerned. I made my way over to his office, hoping that I could get in, that security hadn't totally locked the place down yet. I had visions of Mr. Jurek on the floor, clutching his chest - unlikely, I know, for a 47 year old, but still. I was concerned. The company's campus was very low key, very west-coast architecture - aside from the rather large lab, there were a series of small bungalows where the non-science types tended to work from. The lights were still on in his building, and from the outside, I could see that his office light was still on as well. I saw shadows moving as well. "Thank the lord," I thought, and breathed a sigh of relief. He'd just thrown himself into his work and forgotten, perhaps. I walked right in and, in fact, passed a shortish man in a rumpled brown suit on my way to Jurek's office. He didn't look me in the eye. Mr. Jurek's secretary had gone home, but the door from her station to his office was still open. I walked right in. "Ryan, you've got to stop working so hard!" I said, before I realized it wasn't him in the office. Sitting in Mr. Jurek's desk was a 40- something woman, not bad looking, in fact. Her brown hair was streaked with a little grey; it hung over her face. She had her head in her hands and her elbows on the desk. Her eyes were closed; she appeared to be a little anxious - breathing hard, trying to calm herself down, it seemed. "Sorry, ma'am," I said quietly. "I'll leave." She looked up; her blue eyes were piercing and intelligent. "Dan. Danny boy. Damn, I forgot," she said. She stood up; she was wearing a man's suit that was far too big on her. She motioned down at her body. "Sorry, son - I just don't see me playing any basketball today looking like this." Yes, indeed, this was a truly "What the Fuck!?" moment. Those blue eyes... the hair; the fact we were in his office... "Ryan," I asked her, "what happened to you?" "I've been, um, made into a woman, Danny," she said. Her voice was oddly like it used to be, just a bit higher, a bit more... compressed maybe. "I... I can't go home like this," she said, sort of matter-of- factly. "I get what happened, Ryan, I'm just having a hard time believing it," I said. "What I want to know is HOW something like this could have happened to you? And how can we change you back?" She pulled up her pants, which had started to fall as they were far to big for her now, and sat on the edge of her desk. "Long story short, Dan - there's a man that wants money from me. He stopped me in the parking lot yesterday - told me that he wanted thirty grand or he'd 'bitch' me. When I said, 'Excuse me?' He said, 'That means if I don't get thirty gees from by sunset tomorrow, you'll have a pussy." She sighed. "Needless to say, Daniel, I didn't believe him, told him to fuck off, and forgot about him. About 10 minutes before I was going to meet you at the gym, he was standing at my office door, right where you are now." "Ryan, I warned you about security after hours so many times," I started, but then stopped myself - the poor man - woman - was so trusting in non-business matters. He really believed in the good hearts of people. "Sorry," I apologized. "Go on." "He asked if I had his money. I told him that was preposterous, and I got up to, well, kick his ass, more or less, or at least kick him out. This guy is not so big, Dan - maybe 5'8"." She motioned to a large, dirty gym bag on the floor. "He threw that bag down on the floor and said that he'd warned me and since I had nothing for him, he had something for me. I walked toward him and then, the strangest thing. He just looked at me, real hard - like I could feel his eyes boring into me. The next thing I knew, I was short, shorter than him, and I was having trouble standing." "'A little vertigo is normal.' he told me then. 'If you want your dick back, you'll meet me tonight at Kelley's bar, the one in SoMa.' He said I'd better have some cash for him." She looked at me. "Dan... I can't let my wife see me like this. It would ruin me. I don't know how the hell to get thirty thousand dollars at this time of night without going into the safe at home." "Don't worry about that," I reassured him. "I can get it, no problem. I'll go with you; we'll pay this guy off and you'll be fine, back to normal." She looked relived. "Oh, thank God Dan," she said. She half stumbled forward and hugged me, a good, manly clap on the back. "Thank you Danny." "Sure," I said. "Let's go." I started walking out, but she told me to wait. When I asked her why, she pointed at the still-closed dirty gym bag on the floor. "He told me to be wearing what was in the bag," she said. Her face was reddening with embarrassment. I understood completely - bad enough she'd lost her manhood and stature and taken a new shape. She hadn't had to take an active role in that. Assuming there were women's clothes in the bag, she'd be forced to put them on herself... become a more active participant in the transformation. She opened the bag and dumped its contents on the floor. She let out a small gasp. A red, lacy bra and, worse, a matching thong. A sky-blue cotton top, a denim skirt, and a pair of calf-high, shiny brown boots. "I... I can't do this," she whispered. She was on the verge of tears. "Ryan, come on," I said. "You know what you have to do to get out of this - I don't know how you can fight the guy. Just put the clothes on and you'll be one step closer to never wearing them again." She stiffened her jaw and nodded. "To the point, Dan," she said. "That's one of the reasons you're so successful." She grabbed the bundle and dragged it into the office's private bathroom with her. "I'll be back in a sec," she said. About ten minutes later she emerged from the bathroom and teetered toward me. She was taking small steps, and was hugging her arms to herself, as if she were cold. "This is... so humiliating," she said. "The damned boots have high heels on them, and..." I swooped in and grabbed her by the arm. "Just lean on me, man. You'll be fine. We're going to my car and we're going to get the cash, then we're going to get your life back." I walked her to the hall, then asked her to wait a minute. I ran into the office bathroom and grabbed Ryan's man's suit. I held it out for her to see. "You'll need it later tonight, right?" She nodded. She got more used to walking in the boots and the skirt; by the time we reached my car, she was doing okay. I opened the passenger seat for her; she climbed into it. It sort of hit me how womanly she really was now - so petite, maybe 5'4"; a little bit of curve in her figure, with a slim waste and a rear end that I'm ashamed to admit I stole a few glances at. The skirt was long enough, knee-length, that it covered her thighs and the hemline hung just above the tops of her tall, brown boots. "Watch the eyes, man, this is bad enough," she muttered. I was embarrassed. I drove away. We stopped at my office. "I'll be just a few minutes," I said. "Just stay here while I get the money, then we'll--" "No," she said. "I'll come with you. I need to pee." She made it sound so formal. As a man, she'd have just said, "I gotta take a piss." Once inside, she went to the ladies' lavatory near me office while I cracked into my office's personal safe. To be safe, I took out a full hundred thousand - I wanted some insurance that we'd get this thing resolved. Money in pocket, I went out to the hallway. A few minutes later, Ryan walked up to me, her boots clacking on the hard floors with every step. "Let's get this over with," she said. Fifteen minutes later, we were parked about a block away from Kelley's (lucky spot in San Francisco on a Friday, I swear). We walked to the bar; she was cold, goosebumps, even, but she didn't complain. Maybe she didn't even notice. She carried a briefcase with the thirty-thousand dollars. I had the extra I'd brought stuffed in my gym bag. We walked into the bar. She nudged me and pointed to a table close to the jukebox. "There he is," she whispered. It was the man I'd seen earlier, coming out of Ryan's office bungalow - the average looking, almost short man in the rumpled brown suit. He was gazing into his drink. "Stay here," Ryan said, and she walked over to where he was sitting. I took a seat at the bar and tried not to stare to obviously at what was going on. The man stood up to greet Ryan; he took the briefcase from her. He hugged her hello and whispered something in her ear. His hand fell from her waist down to her ass; he rubbed it softly, in a small circle, while he continued talking. I couldn't see Ryan's face. The man pulled his chair away from the table and sat down, then slapped his lap, like he wanted Ryan to take a seat on it. She hesitated - then she did. He grabbed her around the waist, from this position, from behind, and continued talking to her. She nodded a few times, then stood up and picked up the briefcase. I noticed that the bathroom wasn't too far from where they were; I decided to make a pretense of going there to see if I could get a better look at what was going on. They were counting the money together as I walked past them. Seemed fine. I continued to the john... sent into a stall, and went about my business. When I was washing my hands, that weasel-like man came into the room. He stood behind me, looking over my shoulder into the one good mirror. "Hey, friend," he said. I turned around to grab a paper towel. "Yeah?" "Did you think I wouldn't recognize you? From earlier, at his office?" "So we're friends. So what?" I responded. "I told him to come alone. Not much more I can do to him... but you, man - you look like a guy who appreciates having a penis." Almost unconsciously, I felt my hand come rest on my crotch. A sort of queasy feeling came over me - like butterflies in the stomach. I looked him in the eye. "So... so what - I mean, what do you want?" I asked him. He shook the gym bag full of money. "Well, I'm all set on cash for a little while, thanks to the two of you guys... well, one guy and one gal. Yeah, he told me how you helped him." So much for loyalty, I thought. "Don't hold it against him, man - it's hard for someone to disobey me when I've bitched them. I mean, to go from a strong, powerful business guy to a skirt... you'd do whatever I told you to also." I nodded. "Yeah. I won't hold it against him." "Her," he said. "Her?" I echoed. "I thought that once you had the cash..." He shrugged his shoulders. "Changed my mind. I mean, I've gotta invest, right? Can't keep blackmailing new people; I figure I'll just keep a few of you rich guys on a short leash... regular payoffs rather than a big score. Keep us all happier; less chance of someone actually standing up to me some day." He was talking about this fantastic, unbelievable thing so matter-of- factly. It was strange. Like a story come to life. "So, she stays a she for now... at least until I drop her at home tonight. Just a little lesson to keep her... what's the word... like she'll do what I say next time I ask her for money. She'll remember this." "Compliant." I said. That bachelor's degree in English was good for something I guess. "Yeah, smart guy." he said, looking at me intently. "Compliant." He took a step closer to me. I didn't move - this was like having a gun to my head. Could he do to me what he'd done to Ryan? Worse than a gun - if someone was threatening my life, I could fight him for his weapon. What did this man have, this strange power? Where did it come from? "Will you be 'compliant' Danny boy?" I cleared my throat. "I guess... I guess that depends on what you'd like me to do." He laughed. "You're smart, tough guy. Not too weak, not too uppity. I kinda like you. Here's how we're gonna play it. You come out with us tonight - me and my new girlfriend out there." "Girlfriend?" I almost choked out of me. "Well, for tonight, yeah. The three of us are gonna have a good time; then you're giving her a ride home, then the two of us are going back to my place and we'll discuss the details of our arrangement." "What do you mean?" I asked. He grinned. "Well, I assume you like your dick. I'm gonna make you the same offer I've made to all my little bitches - cash and you stay like you were born. But you're the key, man - Jurek tells me your company isn't public. That means you can just put me on the payroll, straight up, with no auditing bullshit. No worries about shareholders." "But I was actually planning to..." He cut me off. "No. Keep the ownership private and you keep your privates. Hah." "Like I said before," he told me, clasping me on the shoulder, "I'm just trying to invest, give my self a sweet set-up. You're my ticket. You play nice, Jurek gets his balls back before his wife wakes up tomorrow morning." He stuck out his grimy hand. "Deal?" I took it. "Deal, sure," I said. We walked out of the bathroom; Ryan was waiting for us. "Dan, I'm sorry," she said. "Don't sweat it." I told her. "It's a tough position." "Enough talking about our feelings, ladies," the man said. "I want a drink." He turned to Dan. "Claudette, go get us some drinks -- I want a scotch on rocks. You can have anything you want, as long as it's a girly drink." He looked at me. "And you?" "Uhh, I'll take a bourbon, neat," I said. "Good choice," he said. He smacked Ryan on the ass. "Get to it, sweetie. No waitresses at this place, so you're my waitress tonight." She hurriedly walked to the bar. "Quite a view, huh?" he asked me, and poked me in the ribs. "Even for an older gal. I sure make 'em good." Her skirt flipped back and forth as her ass swayed. It was hard not to agree. "Claudette?" I asked. "Yeah. She needed a girl name. That's what you need to call her too." "That's kind of insulting," I said. "She's my friend." "Right," he said. "She's your friend, and if you want to help her, you'll call her by her proper name. Say it with me now... Claudette." "Claudette." I said along with him. Shit, this was humiliating, even though I wasn't the one in the skirt. "So, uh, what do I call you?" I asked him. "Jimmy," he said. "My name's Jimmy." Claudette came back to the table - she had something with a pineapple in it for herself and gave the other two drinks to us. "What's that you're drinking?" I asked her. Jimmy cut me off before she could answer. "What's that that your drinking 'who'?" he said to me. "Huh?" "Her name, asshole." He gave me that hard, grotesque look again. Again, I got those butterflies. "What's that you're drinking, Claudette?" I asked her. "Pina Colada," she said. Funny, I knew Ryan hated those things. Sad. At least we were drinking - maybe it'd take out minds off the weird situation. Or somehow make it more palpable. Later that night, after about four rounds and forty rude comments about Claudette's femininity, I was proven wrong. The more drunk we got, the weirder Jimmy got. "All right, ladies," he said, finally, "let's quit." He nodded at Claudette. "Let's take her home." I drove - very carefully - to where Ryan and his wife lived, a quiet block in the neighborhood of Twin Peaks. "We can go in through the garage," Claudette said. "It'll be quieter." We crept into the garage - boxes of old stuff were all about, but in relatively neat piles. I guess some small part of me still hoped that this all had been a weird, elaborate hoax, with an actress playing the part of my transformed friend. But after she had unzipped and stepped out of the boots, taken off her top, and pulled down the skirt, she stood in just her underwear. She started to unhook the bra, but Jimmy stopped her. "What's in the boxes?" he asked. "Old clothes, mostly," Claudette answered. "My daughter's, that she didn't take to college." "Hmph," Jimmy replied as he looked through one of the boxes, one marked "Angela." He pulled out a pair of blue denim overalls from the box and held it up against his chest. "This could be cute," he said cynically. "Now, Jimmy, I thought we were square," Claudette stammered. "Oh, we are," Jimmy answered. He glared at Claudette, standing there in just her underwear, a real peculiar look. Claudette suddenly grabbed at her stomach, and seconds later, she had been replaced by Ryan again. The panties snapped in two and the bra was stretched across his chest, but he was a man again. His nightmare was over, at least for now. Mine was just beginning. --- We walked back to my car. Jimmy had tossed the clothes formerly worn by Claudette into the box marked "Angela" that he'd been messing with. "Pretty crazy stuff, eh?" he said to me when we got in the car. I nodded. "Just imagine how I felt when I figured out I could do it," he said. "At first I'm psyched, I have this insane power, right? Then, a couple days go by, and my life is still a bunch of shit. The guys in power are still in power. I'm still on the bottom rung, working as a wage slave for an asshole, a kid like 10 years younger than me, thinks he's better 'cuz he went to college." Jimmy lit up a cigarette. "But he got his. 'Course, he had nothing to bargain with, so he's still running around in a skirt." "Actually, we should check in on her," he said. "Take a right." Jimmy guided me to drive to a strip joint in North Beach. The bouncer waved us right in. "Good to see you again, Jimmy," he said. "Better be," Jimmy replied. I noticed that the bouncer (perhaps subconsciously?) put his hand on his crotch. What kind of insane world did this guy live in? Or create for himself? We walked into the strip club. My instincts were screaming at me to run, take off and isolate myself. I had the resources to make sure this guy wouldn't get within a hundred yards of me ever again. Yet I followed him in and sat down where he told me too. "See her?" he asked me, pointing to a girl on stage with her backside against a pole. She was attractive - bleached blond, but thin with a huge, exposed rack but for some sparkly purple pasties. She had on a purple thong and white, vinyl thigh-high boots with a tall heel. "Former supervisor?" I asked. Jimmy clapped me on the shoulder. "Yup," he said. "Very good." He got closer to me and spoke softly in my ear. "Just think - if you don't play your cards right, that could be you," he said. I didn't know how to respond. This guy was a fucking maniac. "In fact," he continued, "I've already got a name picked out for you for after I've 'bitched' you. Do you want to guess what it is?" How the hell was I supposed to respond to a question like that? I just kept my eyes forward on the former-man-now-woman who was shaking her thing right in front of us. "I like French names," he continued. "I was thinking about Madeline or Gabrielle. Either of those strike your fancy, sweetie?" he asked. "Jimmy, I thought we had a deal here," I responded. "I'm gonna give you the money, the steady paycheck, like you asked, man." He drew back. "Yeah, you're cooperating," he said. "I'll lay off of you." He smashed his cigarette into an ashtray and stood up. "Let's go backstage. I gotta collect from sweetie up there," he said. "Then we can go back to your place and crash." With Jimmy leading the way, we had no trouble getting into the back, the bouncers and other staff gave him wide berth. We came into the girls' changing room, where Jimmy's former supervisor was just coming in from her set. She was tying the belt of a silk robe when we approached her. "How'd we do tonight, Precious?" he asked. "So far so good, Daddy," she purred. "I love it when she calls me that," he said to me as she started unzipping one of her boots. She pulled a wad of cash out and handed it to him. Jimmy flipped through it, then stuck it in his pocket. "Nice job," he said. "You can keep the next round for yourself." "Thank you Daddy," she said, visibly relieved. "Why does she keep giving you money," I asked. "What else can you do to her?" He smirked. "I tracked down her older brother and bitched him too," he said. "She agreed that there was no reason to fuck up two lives. Precious dances so her nephews will have a mommy and a daddy, not two mommies. Isn't that right, Precious?" "Yes, Daddy," she said. "Can I go get ready for my next dance now?" "In a minute, sweetie. First I want you to meet my new friend Gabrielle." He pushed her towards me. "Gabby, Precious. Precious, Gabby," he said. She embraced me, her huge boobs squishing against my chest in an altogether not-too-unpleasant manner. "Hi, Gabby," she said. "My name's actually Dan," I stammered. This was just too weird to handle. "Oh no," she whispered. "Now you're fucked." "Did you just contradict me?" Jimmy asked. He pulled Precious off of me. "Oh, Gabs, now you've done it," he said. "You're so getting bitched." And I was. I started to protest, but this funny feeling - almost like butterflies in my stomach - overwhelmed me and I couldn't talk. My tongue went dry, and then this feeling of electricity zapped through my crotch and butt and midsection. Then, a warm feeling, a calming warmth enveloped me from head to toe. I staggered a little; Precious caught me by the arm and helped to steady me. I had to look up to meet her eyes. The warm feeling passed, and I realized that my jeans had fallen halfway off and I was practically swimming in my shirt. Jimmy kicked a stool over to me. "Sit down, Bitch," he said. I pulled up my pants and complied. It seemed easier than arguing. I was a little disoriented. He looked a lot bigger. I put my hands to my head in disbelief and was met with a mass of hair - it came down to about my eyebrows. "I kept it shorter for you, Gabs," Jimmy said. "You're gonna have enough to deal with. Now cross 'em." "What?" I asked. I was again surprised by the higher tone of my voice. "Your legs, Bitch. Cross your legs like a proper lady." I did. I was much more flexible, it seemed. "Precious, get her some clothes," Jimmy told her. "But Daddy, all I have is what I wore here and what I'm wearing now," she said. "Well you're going to keep dancing tonight, yeah? So get her your street clothes, you dumb bitch," he said forcefully. "Yes, Daddy," she said, and disappeared. "Jimmy, I thought we had a deal." I said, on the verge of tears. This was just too weird. I could feel the difference in my chest; I really needed a bra of some kind. I was trying not to think about the feeling between my legs. My ass was definitely more padded than it had been as well. "We do have a deal, sweetie," he said. "But I want to show you I'm serious. That we're not equals. You show me respect; I'm your better. You got it?" I nodded. "Good. Because that could be you out there just as easily in the pasties and thigh-highs if I wanted you to be. And I still might make that happen." Precious returned. She handed me a small gym bag. "Here you go, sugar. I'm pretty sure the bra won't fit you; you're kinda small. But it's better than nothing." "Thanks, Precious," he told her. "Now get the fuck back on stage." "Okay Daddy," she said, and she left the room, her shiny white fuck-me boots clip-clopping as she sauntered off. "Get dressed," he said. "I'm gonna watch." It was humiliating - I took off my shirt and jeans and boxers. I started shivering, at least partially from the cold, and I glanced down at my crotch - just a patch of black hair, nice and smooth, and, yeah, a real, working vagina. I first pulled on the underwear that was in the bag - red and lacy adorned with little roses. I pulled on the pants that she left in there; they were super-tight jeans. They were too long in the leg, but fit okay otherwise. I tried to put on the bra and found I couldn't; I wasn't sure how. Jimmy came over to help me fasten it in the back. "She was right," he said, "you're way too small." As if to emphasize, he reached around my front, grabbed the cups of the not-quite-filled bra, and squeezed the silky material into my chest. Through the bra, massaged my breasts and started to play with and tickle my nipples. "Please," I protested, "please stop." He did - sort of. He grabbed my wrists and turned me around to face him. Did I say he was short before? My eyes were now at his neck. I felt like a pixie. He put his hands on my waist, right where the band of the low-rise tight jeans met my exposed flesh. "Are you telling me what to do, little girl?" he asked. "No," I said, tears starting to fall down my face. "No WHO?" he asked. "No, Jimmy." "Try again," he retorted. "No... Daddy?" I half-asked. "That's more like it," he said. "Now finish getting dressed so I can drive you home." I did just that - I put on the soft, scoop-necked top and the fuzzy sweater that were in the bag and some simple leather flip-flops. I wondered - since I was wearing Precious' clothes, would she have to go home wearing her stripper getup? "Keys," Jimmy said. I reached into the pocket of my old jeans on the floor and tossed him my keys and my wallet for good measure. "Good thinking," he said. "I knew you were a smart girl." In the car, on the way back, I tried to meld into the passenger seat. I didn't want to talk to him or be seen by anyone - it was too mortifying to hear the soft, high sound of my new voice. Aside from asking directions to my place, Jimmy mostly kept quiet as well. As we started down into my building's parking garage, I dared to ask him a question. "Jimmy?" He glared at me. "Sorry - I mean Daddy?" "Yes, Gabrielle." he answered. "How long to you intend to keep me like this?" He looked over at me, just as he was parking. "As long as I damned well please. But if you're good..." Something came over me - an irrational desire to please him. "Oh, God, Daddy, I'll be good, I promise." "If you're good," he started again, "I can see this ending as soon as you bleed at least once." I nodded my head. He meant until I had a period. I could be stuck a woman for a whole month! And that's if he kept his promise. I showed him how to swipe the key cards, and within a few minutes we were in my apartment. Everything looked a little different to me from my new height. And to top it off I kept stumbling over the too-long legs of Precious' jeans. "Don't worry," Jimmy said laughing as I actually fell all the way to the ground when we entered the living room. He pointed to the box of Ryan's daughter's old clothes, which he'd brought up from the car. "We'll find something in here that fits you better. In fact..." he began to rummage through the box. "Ah-hah! Here," he exclaimed. You can sleep in this." He tossed me a floral nightgown, complete with ruffled sleeves and lace-trimmed neck. I stripped but for my panties and put it on. It's skirt only came to mid-thigh. It smelled a little musty. "You look very cute, Gabs," he said approvingly. "Just come give me a good-night kiss and you can go to bed." Funny how just that morning my name had been Dan. I approached him tentatively. He placed his hands on my hips, and leaned down a little. I still had to get on my tiptoes to reach his face. He gave me a long, wet, opened mouth kiss, then smacked me on the ass. The open hand, though playful, stung through the thin cotton gown. "Go to your room," he said. "I'll take the couch. Never say I'm not a gentleman." "Goodnight Gabrielle." He looked at me expectantly. "Um, goodnight... Daddy." I replied. Once back in my room for the first time in what seemed like forever, I took a look in my full-length wall mirror. I was thin, short, and not especially curvy. My hands and feet were so tiny; as a man, they'd been proportionately big for my height. I stared at my face - I thought I could recognize myself within it, but I doubted anybody else would. My brown hair was now a brown-red and a little longer than it had been; my tanned skin had turned to light freckling. I touched my chest for the first time; I'd been too nervous and embarrassed to do it in front of Jimmy. They were real (had there been any doubt?). I also explored my proportionally expanded rear and hips, and, tentatively, my crotch. I teased it with one of my fingers. It didn't feel sexy or nice. It just felt strangely normal. And at the same time odd and unfamiliar. I turned off the light and got into my bed, which smelled strangely masculine to me and the size of which seemed to swallow me. It was small mercy that I didn't have any dreams, or at least that I didn't remember them. I woke up to Jimmy gently shaking me. "Wake up sweetie," he told me. "Your new life starts right now." He told me to take a shower, after which he'd tell me what to wear and we'd get down to brass tacks about how we'd get him on the company payroll. After stealing my manhood, he might be crazy to think I'd comply. Crazy - but correct. With Jimmy's blessing, I logged onto my work account and emailed my admin. assistant that I'd be out for at least a week, but could be reached electronically. In the shower, I did a little more exploring, mostly to try and get more comfortable with my body. Once clean and dry, I went back into the bedroom where Jimmy had laid out some clothes for me. "We're going to have to buy you another bra, this was the only one in the box," Jimmy said as he stood behind me and fastened it. This bra, a plain tan one, actually seemed to fit okay, though I didn't have much to measure against. The matching panties, thankfully a normal cut, seemed to fit well too. "Yeah, everything's gonna fit you, Gabby," Jimmy said. "I changed you to fit the size of the clothes in the box." He seemed awfully proud. He'd laid out some other clothes for me to wear - I slipped on a corn- yellow short-sleeved t-shirt with little blue flowers embroidered around the sleeve cuffs and the neckline. Then I pulled on the blue denim overalls that he'd been looking at the night before and hooked the straps to the buttons on the bib. The bib had a large pocket with an "Old Navy" label square in the middle; there were buttons I had to fasten at my sides, right above my hips; there was even a little hammer-loop next to one of the pockets. The fly was a faux-fly, decoration only. No need for a working one if you have no dick. I looked in the mirror. I thought I looked ridiculous. As baggy as the overalls were, they somehow also made me look very girly and small. Again, I was mortified. "Wow, you sure look cute, Gabrielle," Jimmy said, as he began to rub his hand up and down my backside. "But you messed up a little," he told me as he unhooked one of my straps. "This one got twisted." He straightened it then hooked it back on. He lightly rubbed against my chest while doing so. And here's where it got even weirder - I didn't mind so much. After all this time I'd spent in my life feeling the need to prove myself and to be in control, it felt pretty good to have someone else calling the shots. Mentally, I realized that Jimmy's odd power included the ability to hold some sway over his victims. After all, wouldn't someone have otherwise killed him by now? The sort of fog I'd felt last night had pervaded every inch of my being. I wasn't anxious or upset, just still a bit embarrassed as I got used to thinking of myself as a woman. Embarrassed, but, despite the knowledge it couldn't be natural, mostly okay with it. So I more or less happily let Jimmy play with my overall straps, and I didn't mind when he had me sit on his lap and give him a good cuddle. He didn't kiss me again, at least not full on in the face, but he did give little nips and pecks to the back of my ears and the nape of my neck. We went from me sitting on his lap to us spooning within 20 or so minutes. We only stopped because I got up to pee. My first pee sitting down as a woman was nothing to take note of, but that I had to unbutton and unbuckle my overalls and be a little careful where I laid the straps down while I was sitting, as the floor was still wet in spots from my earlier shower. I finished up and walked back to the couch, smoothing myself out. Jimmy was standing. He tossed me a small shoulder bag - it was leather burgundy, and well worn. Another refugee from Angela Jurek's box of giveaways, I supposed... "Here - we've got some errands to run and I can't baby-sit you all day. Throw your spare keys and whatever else you might need in here." I did what he asked and slung the bag over my shoulder. My first venture out into the world as a woman was about to begin.