The Bet free porn video

The Bet 1. The Wager It all started a few summers ago, in August, at my friend Lauren's house. Lauren had been a friend, and sometimes a little more, for many years. She had long red hair, a beautiful face, an athletic body, and she was wild. She was always the fun one who pushed me out of my comfort zone to do "bad" things. She teased me, she led me on, and I loved it. Anyway, Lauren and I were at her place with some friends of hers that I knew as acquaintances. Sally was Asian, but not with the reserved demure countenance that many Asian women have. She had that long, perfectly straight Asian hair, but with a confident and mischievous look affixed to her face. She was a first year surgery resident. Michelle was a brunette with long, slender legs and she worked in advertising. Angie was a blonde that used her innocent good looks to ensnare the unwary long before they remembered not to judge a book by its cover. Angie's family owned a small chain of beauty salon / spas and she worked in the family business. Her family had a fair amount of money, or so I had heard. All four of them had beautiful, long hair and were very attractive. It certainly was no punishment spending time with this group! Some men are into breasts, legs, or ass, but for me it is hair. I am into women with long hair that you can run your fingers through, play with, and bury your face in. Long hair gives women a whole set of motions they can do that are uniquely feminine, including but not limited to motions that are flirting, teasing, disdainful, sexy, controlling, inviting, contemplative, playful, or even angry. Short hair is just not as versatile from a non-verbal communication standpoint. I guess you could even say I have a fetish for long hair, and being with these four women had me mentally quivering as I gazed at each of them in turn and as a group. Lauren was needling me, as she often did, about how conservative and goody-goody I was. She said, "Do you ever wear anything interesting to work, or always just those khaki's and a button-down shirt?" I worked as a computer analyst at a respectable firm downtown, and I felt that conservative attire was the best way to get ahead. She continued on, "And what about the hair? Do you ever let it get more than 3 inches long? Why don't you grow it out a little? Or maybe you could wear an earring or two. You'd look cute and actually show a little style." My hair was about 3 inches long at its longest point at the time, and I knew a haircut was already overdue. "I don't think so Lauren," I responded patiently, "I don't want to make the wrong impression at work. My career is important to me." We had had this conversation before, many times, and this was my standard answer. But this time she didn't accept it as easily as she had before. "How important?" she said with a devious smile starting to form on her face. "Important enough to pass up $100,000? We'll each chip in $25,000 if you go for 1 year without cutting your hair at all." The other girls, in retrospect, did not look very surprised at her suggestion, and nodded their heads and then looked expectantly at me. They had discussed it in advance, in detail, although that did not occur to me at the time. "100,000!!!" I said, "No way. You wouldn't cough up that much just for a bet let like that." But she came back with determination. "Yes we will. It will be MORE than worth it, don't you worry. We'll even give you 10% up front just to prove it. But if you welch on us, then you owe us $100,000." The other girls were leaning forward, as if my answer was very important to them. Wow, they were serious. I don't make big decisions without considering them carefully, so I told them I needed to think it over for a few days. Lauren said that would be fine but make sure I didn't cut my hair while I was thinking - they didn't want to lose the 3 inches I already had! I thought about it for a few days. There were two or three other guys in my department at work that were a little bit out there in terms of style, and one even had hair halfway down his back. Maybe I could go for a year and change my image a bit. $100,000 was nothing to sneeze at for a 25-year-old. We got together again the next weekend and I told them I would do it. We signed a contract obligating them to pay me $100,000 if I did not cut my hair for a year, with 10% up front, and for me to pay them $100,000 if I did cut my hair at all before a year was up. All four of them seemed very excited and happy that I had decided to accept. I got lots of hugs, kisses, caresses, and surreptitious collisions with interesting body parts. I was hard as a rock after 15 minutes of this. Then Sally, Michelle, and Angie left. Lauren was busy teasing me again, sitting close and letting her breasts rub up against me occasionally. She flipped her hair back and looked at me with those mysterious green eyes through half closed lids. She inhaled on her cigarette like she was sucking a penis and exhaled a long steady stream of smoke with a look of sexual satisfaction. I felt like she was thinking that she was sucking on me, and that she was in complete control of me. I didn't smoke but it was definitely a turn on to watch her. She flattered me and said she was more attracted to me now that I would be changing my image. I had heard her talk like this before, leading me on in the long running tease that I was used to by now. I was ready for the friendly yet distant goodnight hug and accompanying need for a cold shower again when before I knew it she was unbuttoning my shirt and taking it off! She proceeded to take all of the clothes off and started licking and biting my nipples while caressing my member. Then her mouth moved down and started sucking it rhythmically while her hands moved up to the nipples. She kept me on the edge for a long time. Right as I was about to come, she stopped and asked me, "Who decides what is best for Tim?" in a sultry yet authoritarian voice I had never heard her use before. Momentarily confused by the words and her tone, which obviously indicated that she thought she was best suited to decide what was best for me, I hesitated. Maybe I sensed that this was a turning point and that is why I paused. In any case, when she started licking the head of my penis, and playfully covering it with her lips, it sent shivers through my entire body and I stopped thinking. I said, "You do Lauren, of course." I would have agreed to anything at that point. In fact, I guess I pretty much had. She then took me to the hilt and did something else new - she licked her index and middle finger on her right hand, inserted them up my ass and started pushing around in there until she found what I guess was my prostate. With her pushing on that and rhythmically sliding me in and out of her mouth, it didn't take long. I exploded into her and she sucked it up. It was an orgasm that exceeded anything that I had felt before. I was physically drained. While I was still trying to catch my breath, she pushed me back on the couch where I had been sitting and laid on top of me. She pressed me back into the couch and pinned me there, holding my wrists with her hands and my legs with her legs wrapped around them tightly. She is strong and even though I struggled, I couldn't get out from under her. She waited silently, smiling slightly, as I writhed around and grunted. Finally I stopped resisting and yielded to her control, not knowing what she was going to do to me next. Then she held my eyes with hers until she was sure that I knew she was stronger than I was and that she was in control of the situation. I was a little bit frightened because I didn't realize that she could physically control me like that. She stared at me for 15-20 seconds, and then nodded her head slightly as if confirming our relationship. Then she leaned down and gave me a passionate French kiss with her mouth still full of cum. She had never kissed me like that before and I was stunned and turned on. The cum was salty and strong tasting, and the taste lingered after she withdrew. "How was that?" she asked, still holding me down. I didn't know if she was referring to the whole experience, the cum in my mouth, the fingers in my ass, the blowjob, her physical domination, or what. I had mixed feelings about a couple items on that list, but I decided that the safest answer was the truth. "That was the best I've ever had," I said earnestly. She smiled a knowing smile, and said, "You'll go further and have better, don't you worry." Then she released me from her grip and pulled back away from me. I wasn't sure what she was talking about, but wasn't going to argue for now. I laid back on the couch and managed a nod of my head. 2. The Growth My hair grows fast, maybe an inch a month, so it didn't take long for me to start looking different. I usually cut it every month to 6 weeks. Probably around 3 months later, when my hair was about 6 inches long and covering the collar of my shirt in back, I started to get comments. "Turning into a hippie, Tim? You're 30 years late!" "Not going fag on us, are you Tim?" "Tim, I think you need earrings with that hair." I didn't enjoy it but the $10,000 I had gotten already, plus the $90,000 more due in 9 months, made it all bearable. I had hoped that the incredible oral sex with Lauren would continue after my one taste of it, but she acted like nothing had happened and we went back to our friendly relationship. She would comment on and compliment my hair occasionally, but that was it. I got used to the cold showers again. After 7 months, my look had changed considerably. My hair was now almost 12 inches long - shoulder length. My daily routine had lengthened along with my hair. I had to wash it and condition it, and then blow it dry each morning. It was work! I wanted it to at least look neat and professional even if it was long. I usually tied it back in a ponytail for work, but let it hang free when not at work. It turns out that I have beautiful hair! It is straight, shiny, and full-bodied - I also have a thick head of hair. I must admit that it felt good against my back and neck once it got to the longer lengths. Sometimes in the evenings I would get home, take off my shirt, remove the hair from the ponytail, and brush it out for a while. I would lean my head back and swish the hair back and forth across my back to feel it against my bare skin. It was a soothing and surprisingly erotic experience that turned into a way to unwind each day after work. Not only did I enjoy it, but also I didn't know at the time that brushing your hair vigorously and frequently (a couple times a day for 5 minutes at a time) really does increase the growth rate of your hair. This is not some old wives' tale. The brushing stimulates the flow of blood and nutrients to your follicles, and this makes the hair grow faster. I still wore my conservative clothes to work, but I started to feel like the hairstyle looked even more odd with the conservative clothes than it would with a more progressive overall look. Of course Lauren had been telling me this for months, but I thought it was my idea at the time. So I called her from work one day and asked if she would help me get a more appropriate wardrobe. She agreed quickly, almost like she had been waiting for the request, and suggested we go out that night after work to a nearby mall. She picked me up at my place that evening, took me to the mall, and we started shopping. "I don't want anything too crazy, now," I said, "just things that are a little more hip." "Of course," she said patiently. "Who decides what is best for Tim?" I remembered the last time she asked this question and what she was doing to me at the time, and was hopeful that the right answer would result in a full repeat of the experience, so I gave her a big smile and said, "You do Lauren, of course". She nodded her head and didn't say anything more. Of course she had me buy a lot more flamboyant things than I would have ever bought, including pinks, pastels, ruffles, leather, and designer items. I spent nearly $2000 and had a new wardrobe. We had to make a couple of trips back to the car because it was too much to carry. We chatted and had a great time while we were shopping. After we had bought the last items and were on our way out with the last batch of bags, we walked by a restaurant with a fairly empty bar. She said, "Want a drink for the road?" Of course I couldn't refuse that offer so we went in and had a drink. Lauren lit up a cigarette when the drinks arrived, and smoked it like she was making love to it again. I couldn't help staring as she blew a plume of smoke out across the bar, and she noticed me staring. "Would you like one, Timmy?" she asked, and started to fish through her purse for her pack of cigarettes. "N-n-no, no thanks," I stammered, "I was just admiring the way you smoke yours." She smiled knowingly and took another deep drag and looked me in the eye as she halfway closed her lids. She exhaled into my face as I sat there, captivated. I blinked a couple of times at the smoke coming at me, but otherwise continued watching, entranced. She smiled again and went back to her drink without mentioning it again. We finished the first round of drinks, and she insisted that we order another, and then a third and fourth each. I was starting to feel like she was trying to get me drunk! I hardly ever drink, and certainly never more than one or two, so I was buzzing quite nicely when we left 45 minutes later. Lauren didn't seem to be affected by the liquor at all, maybe because she was more accustomed to drinking than I was. As we continued down the mall toward the car, we saw one of those kiosks in the middle of the mall that sells jewelry. She said, "Come over here with me for a second, I want to look at the jewelry." She had been nice to shop for me the whole evening, so the least I could do was let her look for a few minutes. Besides, I was very amenable to almost anything at that point, given my recent alcohol intake. I happily followed along, only halfway aware of what was going on. It was almost time for the mall to close and there were very few people still there. I was looking around at nothing when she spoke again, "What do you think of these?" She was holding up a pair of stud earrings to her ears and asking me to look in a mirror provided for that purpose. "Very nice," I said blandly, doing a poor job of feigning interest, or of even focusing on what she was saying. Quickly, before I knew it, she held them to my ears so I couldn't help but see myself in the mirror. I was caught off guard. I mean, I see myself in the mirror every day, but I don't really look at myself. I am just brushing my teeth or hair and not absorbing the entire image of what I look like. Now I had on one of the new outfits purchased that evening, with my hair down instead of tied back in the regular ponytail. It looked great and the earrings finished it off. I didn't look feminine or anything, just kind of hip. That had never been my image before and I kind of liked thinking of myself that way. Through a haze, I thought I heard her say to the sales clerk, "Looks perfect, he'll take them. And go ahead and pierce his ears with them." Because of the drinks I had earlier, my head was far from clear, but I was happy and agreeable. I still had it in my mind that I wanted to go along with whatever Lauren said so that I might get some of her oral attention later. As I was still trying to process what was happening, Lauren was gently but firmly pushing me into the chair and I felt a sharp pain in one ear, and then the other. The pain definitely cleared out the cobwebs from between my ears, at least briefly, and I said, "Ow!! That hurt! What are you doing? I don't want earrings!" "Now, now Timmy, who decides what is best for you?" Lauren said sternly. Timmy? No one calls me Timmy. Where did that come from? And she spoke to me like she was a schoolmistress berating a third grader. I wasn't her subject to be bossed around that way! What was she thinking? I drew in a deep breath and opened my mouth to tell her what I thought. But then she raised one eyebrow, purposefully and slowly looked down at my groin, and then back to my eyes and then held her gaze there. It was like she had been reading my mind all evening and knew exactly why I had been going along with her suggestions. And on top of that I interpreted her motions as indicating that she would skip the hoped for activities if I didn't behave. It was starting to seem like she was one step ahead of me all the way. I snapped my mouth back shut and exhaled the large volume of air I had drawn in. "You do, Lauren," I said softly, so the sales clerk couldn't hear. "Very well then, Timmy," she continued loudly, smirking and looking at the clerk, "are you going to pay the nice lady for your pretty new earrings?" I pulled out my tired credit card with resignation and embarrassment, and paid for the earrings. The whole thing was starting to get humiliating and I just wanted it to end at this point. Then we went out to the car and she started driving me home. On the way, she said, "How about a mini fashion show when we get back to your place? I'd love to see you in all your new clothes." Well, this was not exactly a masculine way to get her attention, but we would be alone in my apartment and she would be paying attention, at least. "Sure," I said, "let's do it." We got home and she had me parade around the bedroom with all the new clothes on. I was out of my comfort zone in the new clothes. They definitely were not my style, but I guessed that Lauren was more in tune with what was cool than I was. As I was changing outfits about ? of the way through the fashion review, she stopped me with just my underwear on, and asked, "Do you trust me, Timmy?" I only hesitated a second before answering, "Of course I do." "Then lie down on the bed there," she ordered. When I complied, she climbed up on top of me, straddling my chest, with her groin very close to my face, only separated from my mouth by her short black miniskirt. She pulled a black blindfold out of her purse and gently placed it over my eyes and tied it around the back of my head. Well, no harm in that, I thought. This could be fun. She slid my underwear down my legs and removed it - now we were getting somewhere! Then she pulled my wrists above my head and handcuffed them to the spindles of the headboard of the bed. This was getting more serious, so I started to protest, "Hey, what are you doing now?" But she just ignored me, knowing that I wouldn't do anything except wait for her. She didn't even reply. She moved more quickly now, and tied something soft around each of my ankles separately, pulling them towards different corners of the bed so that my legs were spread apart. I could move my legs around, and even bend my knees, but the resistance increased the further I pulled them away from the corner. "Now Timmy, what should I do with you? You certainly are at my mercy," she snickered, and then pulled gently on my penis and squeezed my testicles briefly. I didn't think she really wanted me to answer, so I didn't say anything. I heard some rustling around as if she was removing more items from her purse, but I wasn't sure what. After another few seconds of silence, the quiet, expectant calm of the room was broken by a loud series of claps as she whacked my bare abdomen just above my groin, and then all around my groin, and upper thighs. It felt like it was leather and it hurt a lot. She was using a lot of force, not playfully slapping. After a minute or two that felt like an hour, with me screaming the whole time, she stopped. She said forcefully, "That is for speaking out of turn and acting rudely at the jewelry kiosk. Never question me again, Timmy, or you will regret it. Tell me again who decides what is best for you." Gasping for breath and trying to gather my composure, I reviewed my situation. If I didn't answer as she wanted, she surely would resume her hellish punishment, but this was clearly getting out of control and I wasn't sure she was worth it anymore. If I kept playing along it would only encourage her to do it more, or even take it up a notch. Enough was enough. Apparently I was taking too long to answer, because she starting whacking at me again, for what seemed like an interminably long period of time. She whacked me on my chest, legs, shoulders, penis, and testicles. I was really hurting now and kept trying to get her to stop. In between cries of pain and sobbing, I finally managed to say, "Please, stop, okay, you do, you do." She stopped for a moment, finally, and asked, "What was that Timmy?" Panting, I said, "You decide... what is... best for me,... Lauren... you do." "That's better, Timmy," and she laughed a wicked laugh, "I'm glad you are learning your place." She was quiet again for a few seconds and then I felt a cool, soothing feeling on my chest as she began massaging a salve of some sort all over my wounded body. I still couldn't see anything, or move very much, but my pain began to subside somewhat. She rubbed it all over where she had beaten me, gently caressing as she rubbed it in. Then when she had completed the salve application, she took me into her mouth and began sucking me. I gasped at the contrast between the pleasure received now and the pain so recently in my memory. After working on me for a couple of minutes, she attached two clamps with a chain between them to my nipples, which hurt a lot. The pain started to diminish but then she pulled on the chain as she was sucking, creating that contrast with pleasure and pain again, but this time simultaneously. It was very confusing. It was like my body couldn't decide whether to be in ecstasy or agony. The pleasure definitely seemed more intense than when it was the only sensory input. Then she stopped again and was quiet for a moment. She raised up my knees off the bed and the next thing I felt was something at the door of my anus, and then it was gently thrust inside me. It felt large and my virgin ass wasn't used to this, and I learned yet another kind of pain. "Relax Timmy," Lauren cooed in my ear, "if you tense up and resist it, it hurts more." She was right of course, because when I relaxed my muscles, the pain almost went away, and then Lauren spoke again right into my ear, "I know you enjoyed my fingers up your ass last time we played, Timmy, and I think you'll find this even more intense. Men have this aversion to putting things up their asses, but once they try it they are like little sluts that can't get enough. We'll see if you are a true man or a butt slut in the making, my little Timmy." Then I felt a vibration start inside me as she turned it on. Wow, it felt good. It had its own pleasure in my anus, but it also intensified the sensations I was feeling in my penis. She then resumed her sucking and after another few minutes I couldn't contain myself. My entire body was tingling and I felt like I was an animal without control of my own body. I was twitching and shaking and was desperately straining to come. I finally exploded in her mouth with the most intense orgasm imaginable. Significantly more intense than the last one she provided a few months back. After she slurped me up, she climbed on top of me again and delivered another of those french kisses. This time she deposited a large quantity of the cum in my mouth and quickly withdrew. She added, "Swallow it all, Timmy, because if I can swallow for your pleasure, then you can too." It was thick and warm and salty. It reminded me of sweat, but thicker. I didn't like the taste, and the whole idea of swallowing semen revolted me as something a pervert would do, but I wasn't going to argue with anything too strenuously at this point. Lauren got up and said, "Next time I punish you Timmy, I expect you to keep yourself from wailing like a baby. I'll see you tomorrow Timmy," and walked out of the bedroom. Stunned, I yelled, "Lauren, wait! I'm still tied up!" All I heard was the wicked laugh as she opened and then closed the front door to my apartment. Now what was I going to do? I tried working at my ankles and wrists for a while, but it was of no use. I could move my feet around but couldn't wiggle them out or use one foot to untie the other. And the wrists were hopeless. The handcuffs were on tightly and my headboard was secure and the spindles were big enough that I wasn't going to break my way out. I briefly considered phoning for help but that would be extremely embarrassing and I couldn't reach the phone anyway. I could shout for help and hope someone else in the building heard me, but I decided to wait and see if Lauren came back. I finally fell asleep well into the night and was not well rested when I woke up at the touch of someone releasing my ankle bonds, and then opening the handcuffs. I sat up and removed the blindfold myself. "Lauren, that was not funny," I said angrily, "I don't want to do that again. I don't appreciate being tied up for the entire night. If something happened to you, I was in big trouble." Slap! Her hand came out of nowhere and connected with my cheek with enough force to knock me over. She quickly climbed on top of me where I was laying on the bed, still stunned. She grabbed my wrists firmly, wrapped her legs around mine, and pinned me. Once again I realized that she could physically control me. I was very angry at this point, and we had a brief wrestling match as I struggled with all my strength and determination to get free. She got in a couple of punches and slaps as we tousled around, and finally after a few minutes I gave up. She held me there in silence for a bit as I caught my breath, and then gave me the stare again until we both knew who was in charge of the situation. I gave her a look of resignation and looked away from her. She pulled me back to look her in the eyes, held my gaze for a bit longer, and nodded her head so there was an overt acknowledgement of the control she had. I nodded my head also. "Don't speak in that way to me, Timmy," she said, her voice cold as ice. She let go of my arms and raised my body up off the bed a bit and lifted my chin so I was still looking her in the eye. Then she said, "Remember who decides what is best for you or you will receive a real punishment and not the playing around we have been doing so far." I wasn't sure what to make of that, but while I was thinking it over, she continued, "You are perfectly fine and still have time to make it to work. Enjoy your day!" And with that she strutted out the door. I didn't see her for a couple of months after that. I figured I had angered her with my words complaining about her treatment of me. A few more months went by and I was at work playing with the calendar. The big date with the $90,000 payoff was only 8 weeks away! The exact one-year anniversary was going to be on a Sunday in mid August, but we had not made any arrangements for me to collect the money yet. I reflected on my current situation. My hair was now almost a foot and a half long! I still maintained it meticulously with hair care products and plain old attention each morning. It was still clean, neat, and attractive. I had begun wearing it down at work sometimes, since I had long since gotten over the snide comments directed my way. Most people didn't even make them anymore, although I did get an increase in comments from my co-workers when I changed my wardrobe a few months back. I just ignored them. One person I couldn't ignore was my boss. He obviously didn't approve of my new look, and he was letting his opinion of my physical appearance affect his opinion of my performance at work. After 3 years of stellar performance reviews from him and previous managers, with fast track stamped all over my personnel record, I got a "poor" rating on my latest performance review completed just 2 weeks earlier. There were a lot of items in there that made no sense, but I thought I found the root of the matter when the review document listed a lack of professionalism and poise as one of the reasons for the rating. With the rating of "poor" my company requires the initiation of a performance plan. If specific goals are not met in a 90-day time frame, the employee is fired. Maybe I could turn things around after I collected the $90,000 and cut my hair to its previous lengths, let the ear piercing holes close, and return to my earlier wardrobe. No way did I want to sacrifice this job or my career! As I was contemplating my gloomy prospects, the phone in my office rang. "Tim speaking," I said. "Hi there, Tim, it's Lauren. How have you been?" "Just fine, Lauren, thanks. It's good to hear from you. The big payoff date is only 8 weeks away!" I said. She laughed, and then, "Yes, you're right, if you can make it through 8 more weeks without cutting that gorgeous mane of yours! Listen, I was thinking we ought to start a countdown to your big day. Why don't we get together at Angie's house each Saturday night for the next 8 weeks, and then on the big night we can celebrate at midnight and give you your big check?" Angie has a beautiful house in a very cool part of town that her parents bought for her a year after she got out of college. I think it was their way of rewarding her decision of entering the family business. Her family's salons and spas were very popular around town. "Sure," I said, "that sounds like fun." 3. The Change I went over to Angie's house on Saturday night. Angie opened the door and invited me in. I saw that Lauren, Sally, and Michelle were already there, smoking their cigarettes and chatting in the sitting room. We ate dinner, drank, laughed, and had a great time. I remember having a couple of drinks, but things must have gotten serious from there because I don't remember anything after about 11:00. I woke up the next morning in a guest bedroom that Angie had. My clothes were still on, but someone had put some covers over me. I had a headache but not too bad for a hangover. My right butt cheek was sore, like it had been bruised and I had no idea how that could have happened. For the next few weekends we repeated the Saturday night countdown tradition. Each time I would wake up the next morning in Angie's guest bed, and with one body part or another being sore. Either a butt cheek, or my thigh, or upper arm. I was starting to feel a little funny with just over 2 weeks to go until the big day. I felt like I was gaining weight, especially in my butt and chest. My chest looked like I was getting breasts. I kept thinking of the Jerry Seinfeld show where Kramer invents the "manzier" for older men whose chest begins to sag and Jerry's dad loves it because it makes him feel younger. It was very funny on TV but not on my chest. Besides, I was 26, not 66! I didn't know it at the time, but after slipping something in my drink each Saturday night that knocked me out, the ladies had been giving me powerful shots of female hormones and male hormone inhibitors. I guess that Sally had access to that sort of thing as a (now) second year surgery resident. The shots were affecting my moods and demeanor as well as my body. I was more irritable, and more emotional. The Saturday before the big day finally arrived and I was excited. Yes, my hair was now 18 inches long and down between my shoulder blades. If I bent my head back, bent my elbow and reached around to the middle of my spine, I could touch my own hair as it cascaded down my back. My evening ritual of hair brushing and swishing was now an ingrained part of my daily routine. Sometimes I would catch myself tossing my hair back and forth at work, even though it didn't feel the same through a shirt. I'm sure my co-workers noticed, but were now accustomed to me as a weirdo, and chalked it up to another example of how I had left the mainstream. I was starting to regret the prospect of having to cut my hair at the conclusion of the one-year bet. It was a distinct part of me now. I moved my head differently and I had many new personal mannerisms that involved my hair. Not only did I lean back and swish it for fun, but I also had to move it out of my face when it got in the way, or flip it back. I found myself tilting my head sideways to keep it out of my field of vision when writing or sitting in a meeting where I was trying to have a wider view. I ran my fingers through it as a contemplative gesture, or when sitting back as I thought about something a person had just told me. I twirled it around my finger when in a phone conversation with someone where I was mostly listening rather than talking. I had to do lots of adjusting of my head when it was windy outside, and had serious maintenance to do if I was caught in a rainstorm without an umbrella. I had stopped wearing hats because of what they did to my hair. I could whip out a hair band and tie my hair into a quick ponytail when I wanted to be perceived as more serious or severe. Even more fun was removing the hair band to achieve the opposite effect, shaking my hair out to its full volume and glory. I never went anywhere without a hairbrush - I had bought one of those travel brushes that folds up flat so I could carry it in a pocket unobtrusively. I would be a different person without my hair, and wasn't sure I wanted to lose all of the additions of the past year to my repertoire of personal mannerisms. My chest was getting large as well, to the point where I was considering going to a doctor. It was not very big as female chests go, probably not even big enough that I really needed a bra. If I had worn a bra, it only would have been an "A" or "B" cup, but they were still noticeable to me. Next week, I told myself, I'll go get myself checked out. Maybe I just needed to go on a diet. I arrived at Angie's house around 8:00, and started in on the usual routine of drinks and dinner. Except this time when offered a drink, I refused the alcoholic kind. "No thanks," I said, "I want to be in complete control of my faculties when the clock hits 12:00 midnight!" "No problem Timmy," Angie chirped, while exchanging amused glances with the other girls. She took a pull on her cigarette, exhaled and tapped some ashes into the ashtray, "What would you like, then?" "A Coke, please," I said, and she poured one right away. Since I didn't know that my blackouts were due to drugs rather than alcohol, I had no idea that this switch to a non-alcoholic beverage would do me no good. Of course I blacked out a short time later, and it was a while before I woke up. When I woke up, I was very groggy. I looked around and didn't immediately recognize where I was. Then I remembered another guestroom that Angie had in her basement. It had a private bathroom, but no windows. Through blurry vision, I saw Sally standing next to the bed I was lying on, hanging an IV bag onto its holder, and hooking it up to tube that went to my arm. "What time is it?" I slurred, noticing the bandages on my face for the first time. Sally smirked and said, "What day is it, you mean? It is actually 3:00 pm on Wednesday, but you need more rest, so back to sleep you go!" And I was out again. The next time I remember waking up, I was still feeling groggy, but I did remember where I was. I saw Sally again, and she was shouting out the door for Lauren, Michelle, and Angie to join us. By the time they had all arrived, my head had cleared somewhat. I noticed that there were no longer any bandages on my face. "What's going on?" I asked, "What day is it?" Lauren spoke for the group, "Sleeping beauty finally wakes up! It is now Sunday, around 11:00 in the morning. We have kept you sedated for a week, to let your body heal. We have kept you nourished through a feeding tube and IV's that Sally has just removed. Now we need to get you up, get your muscles working, and start your new life." "New life? What new life?" I said, very confused, "Why would my body need to heal? I want my $90,000 and I'd like to go home." I noticed that my voice sounded funny. It was higher pitched, more feminine. I tried clearing my throat but it didn't seem to help. They all laughed at that, and Sally spoke up, "I don't think you will need to worry about the $90,000, Timmy, we'll take care of your needs from now on. As to why your body needs to heal, let us help you stand up and I think it will be more clear." Angie and Michelle helped me out of bed and held me up since I was having trouble standing. My entire body was weak from the time spent in bed, and my legs couldn't support me. Sally continued explaining, "We will need to take you through a physical therapy routine for a while to get your strength back." Michelle and Angie helped me across the room to a full-length mirror. What I saw shocked me. My face had been completely changed! My large nose had been reduced to a petite version of its old self, and my prominent chin had been softened and rounded. My cheekbones seem to have been lifted and my whole face seemed rounder. I looked like a woman, and I complained to the girls about it, "You've made me look like a woman! What are you trying to do? How can I reverse this? Get me out of here, now!" They all laughed again, and Sally spoke, "You've had reconstructive surgery, Timmy, and it was performed by an accomplished plastic surgeon that is a friend of mine. The only way you can reverse it would be to have more surgery. Even then it would be difficult to make your face look exactly like it used to. So the changes are really permanent." Still reeling from the first revelation, I noticed a pulling feeling on my chest. I pulled the woman's nightgown that they had dressed me in away from my chest to look down and nearly collapsed again. I had breasts! Not just the budding ones I had noticed before, but large, perfectly shaped globes protruding out from my body. It was impossible! They were beautiful, but I was revolted. I grabbed my crotch in horror but was relieved to still find my genitals still attached. Sally spoke again without any prompting from me, as I was speechless. "Yes, your penis and testicles are still attached, at least for now. However, your new breasts may interest you. They are silicone implants and will make it necessary that you wear a "C" cup when we give you your first bra in a few minutes. You will find it more comfortable to wear one from now on. The implants were inserted through incisions near your armpits, and were placed expertly behind your nipples." "You may have noticed that you were developing breasts even prior to the surgery, and it wasn't your imagination. We have been injecting you with estradiol, an estrogen, as well as progesterone, and an anti-androgen, and other drugs to mitigate the effects of the high dosages we have been pumping into you. There are risks associated with the high dosage regimen, but we wanted to feminize you rapidly and were willing to take the risks. I will monitor your condition closely for danger signs." "In any case, you may have noticed other effects of the hormone therapy, or if you haven't you will in the coming weeks. You body fat will redistribute from your waist area to your hips, buttocks, and chest. Your face will be come more rounded, your skin softer. Your hair, except for on your head and face, will become finer and sparser. Your nipples will grow bigger and become more sensitive." "You also may have noticed that your voice is considerably higher in pitch. Instead of the old technique of cutting the vocal cords to change the pitch, we used a new technique that alters the tension of the vocal chords without severing them. You should appreciate this because the healing time is much less and the precision with which we can get to the right pitch is much better. With the operations on your breasts, face, and throat, and all the hormones, the net of it is that you are becoming a woman, Timmy, so enjoy it and be grateful that we are giving you this opportunity." Lauren chimed in at this point, "Yes, Timmy, that is the bottom line. We are making you into one of us. We thought of this a year ago, which is why we made the $100,000 bet. It was worth the $10,000 for us to rope you in, but you will never see the other $90,000. It was very amusing to watch you become subtly more feminine without evening knowing it. Your little evening hair brushing routine is my personal favorite... ha, you didn't know we had video cameras mounted surreptitiously around your apartment, did you? Well we did and watching you revel in your new hairstyle brought us all hours of laughter. And the earrings topped it off, along with the vibrator up your butt. We had you on the route to womanhood before the hormone therapy even started. And the trend is going to continue and even accelerate as we train you. By the time you are able to speak to someone outside this house to complain, you won't want to. In fact, you would be pretty hard pressed to explain yourself even if you got out now, wouldn't you, Timmy?" Not waiting for a reply, she continued on, "And saying your name brings us to our next step. Timmy just won't cut it any more. Your new name is Tammy and we will all address you by that name from now on. Make no mistake, Tammy, you are our prisoner here and we expect you to obey us or you will be severely punished. Eat your lunch and Sally will help you start to get your strength back when you are done." Sally came behind me and pulled off the nightgown, reached around me with a bra, and helped me put my arms through and clasp it in the front. It was more comfortable, supporting my large new additions effectively. After the bra was in place, she put her hands inside it and caressed my breasts and nipples while still standing behind me, and pressed her chest and groin into my back. It was very sensual and I was surprised at how sensitive my new breasts were. It felt very nice, sending tingles throughout my body, causing my penis to stand to attention and a low "Oooohhh" to escape from my mouth. I even arched my back and tilted my head back a bit as I enjoyed the new sensations and she obliged me by continuing her ministrations for a minute or so. I squirmed a bit and continued my soft moaning with a "Mmmmmm" sound. "Yes, Tammy," Sally whispered in my ear, brushing her lips against the ear as she spoke. "Your new woman's body has new pleasure points as well. You'll find out many of the advantages of the superior gender in the coming weeks." After she slowly pulled away, slipped the nightgown back over my head, and guided me back to the bed, I came back to my senses and was revolted by the scene I had just participated in. I was enjoying someone caressing my breasts! What was I thinking? Sally brought a simple lunch for me to eat. I was thinking furiously as I ate. I didn't say anything, but there was no way that I was going to let this stand. I had to get out of here before they cut off my manhood and the hormone treatment became irreversible. For now, though, I needed to get back my strength. After lunch, we started the physical therapy, which fit right into my plans for rebuilding my strength. Angie helped me get into a pink sweatshirt and sweatpants, and then spotted me as Sally directed. So maybe this wasn't the most masculine of strength training regimens, but I could overlook that as long as I became strong again. Sally snickered several times as I pulled at the bra when it slipped or became uncomfortable, or when I bumped into something with my breasts, since I wasn't used to my body protruding so far forward. I tried to suppress my irritated looks when she was laughing at me, but was only somewhat successful. We did various exercises for an hour or so, until I was exhausted. Over the next few days I got stronger, until after a week I felt pretty much back to normal, or at least as normal as the circumstances allowed. 4. The Transgression After the one week of physical therapy was complete, Sally came in to the bedroom with a needle and told me it was time for my hormone treatment. I did not know how long it would take for the hormones to make me sterile or do other irreversible things, but I didn't want to take any chances. I told her that I didn't want any more hormones. She laughed and said, "I didn't ask you if you wanted them, Tammy. They are part of your life now. So turn around and let me inject these so we can get on with the day." "No," I said, "I'm not doing it." I intended this statement to come out firm and unyielding. But with my new feminine voice up an octave or so, it came out whiny and pouting. If it weren't for the gravity of my situation, I might have laughed at myself. Sally probably was laughing inside, although she didn't show it at the moment. "Okay, Tammy, but you are going to be sorry", Sally said, with a true sound of regret in her voice. "Lauren, Angie, Michelle," she shouted out the door, "Tammy won't take her hormones, so could you come down and help me?" I pushed past Sally, who dropped the needle, and I ran out the door. I made it about halfway across the basement before the other three came down the stairs. I made a break for it anyway, trying to push my way through them. Lauren punched me in the mouth, which really hurt, and Michelle was holding on to my legs. Angie grabbed me around the waist, also slowing me down, and Sally came at me from behind, beating at my head and grabbing my hair. I was beating on Angie and Michelle's backs, trying to get them to let go, when Lauren kicked me in the testicles 4 or 5 times. I tried to cover up my groin area but that put me back on defense. Sally had let go and run away. In the meantime, Angie and Michelle had managed to pull me to the ground and Lauren was sitting on me as well. I was struggling to get back up when Sally returned and put a wet cloth over my mouth, and I passed out. When I woke up, I was strapped to an "X" shaped wooden device, in a standing position with my arms and legs spread to the 4 points of the "X". I had on a bra and matching panties, but nothing else. The four women were standing around me, waiting for me to completely wake up. I strained against the bonds that held my arms, legs, and torso to the "X", but they did not give at all. Lauren spoke, "Well, Tammy, you have been a very bad girl. In time you will come to like your new role, but until then I expect you will disobey. When you disobey, you will be punished severely." She came up very close to me, nose to nose almost, and pulled a whip out from behind her back, and gently ran it over my body. "Nice, soft leather, right Tammy?" she purred. "You'll think differently in a few minutes." She caressed my nipples, my groin, and torso with the whip, getting me excited. Then she took a few quick steps back and stood away from me so she could strike me with full force. Without any further warning, she lashed me 10 times across my left and right shoulders. I was begging for mercy after 5. After 10, she walked up close to me, her nose just an inch from mine again, and whispered in that authoritarian yet sultry voice, "Who decides what is best for you, Tammy?" "You do, Lauren," I said. She nodded with satisfaction and gave me a long, tender kiss on the lips. Then she passed the whip to Sally, who lashed me 10 times across the mid-section of my body. When she was done, she whispered in my ear, "Will you obey us in the future, Tammy?" "Yes, I will, I promise," I whined. Sally breathed in my ear softly, and then licked my ear for a moment before passing the whip to Angie. Angie lashed my chest 10 times, raising welts above my new breasts. When she was finished, she grabbed my penis and asked, "Will you help us make you into a true woman, Tammy?" "Yes, I will," I said, desperate for the ordeal to end, but knowing that Michelle still had her turn coming. Angie massaged my penis until it was very firm, smiled, and then let it go as she turned to walk away. Michelle whipped my thighs 10 times and then came up so close to me that her groin and breasts were touching me. She said, "Will you serve us in every way, making sure our every desire is fulfilled by you?" "Yes, I promise," I said, relieved that it was over. They released the leather straps that held me to the "X", and I collapsed to my hands and knees on the floor. "Up!" Lauren commanded, and I struggled to my feet. Sally displayed the needle again, and Lauren continued, "When you are offered the gift of your hormones, that will help you become the woman you want to be, you will lower your panties, bend over, and display your buttocks so that Sally can have easy access to them. Am I clear?" "Yes, Lauren," I replied with resignation. I lowered by panties and bent over at the waist so that Sally could inject the hormones into me. Fighting them had not gotten me anywhere except hurt, and them more watchful. I would have to be more careful in the future about picking my battles. Sally finished the injection and I pulled my panties back up. 5. The Transformation The next day my welts still looked terrible but were only mildly uncomfortable. The pain was just enough to remind me of my disobedience. They let me sit in my room all by myself the whole day, except for when they delivered food. I was lonely by the end of the day, and went to sleep depressed. The next day the welts were considerably better and by the third day they were almost healed. On the morning of the fifth day after the whipping you couldn't really tell that I had had one. I was desperate for some company by this time. The only time I had even seen a person was when one of my 4 captors had opened the door, dropped off some food, and departed without speaking a word. I would have welcomed any kind of attention at this point, and was almost ecstatic when around mid-morning Angie unlocked the door and came in. I wanted to make sure I was on my best behavior so she would stay and talk with me. I was ready to do anything she asked to please her. I had just finished showering, including a shampoo of my hair. I had just stepped out of the shower and still had a towel wrapped around me when she walked in. First, she led me back into the bathroom and had me stand in the shower. She put my hair up so that it was off my neck and out of the way and took my towel away. Without any explanation, she fastened some cloth wristbands around my wrists. They were adjustable and she tightened them so they were secure but not uncomfortable. They each had a metal ring on them, and to these she fastened a rope with clasps on each end. She wrapped the short rope around the showerhead a couple of times so that my arms were suspended above my head. I looked at her hoping she would tell me what was going on, but she didn't even make eye contact with me. She took out a can of something and sprayed a foamy substance into her hand and proceeded to rub it all over my body, from neck to ankles. She used a kind of cream on my genitals and my face and under my chin. She massaged me as she rubbed it in, making it an erotic experience. She spent some extra time around my genitals and achieved the expected result. She set a timer for 15 minutes and sat down to wait. She went in to the other room, picked up a magazine and then sat down on the closed toilet seat. She lit a cigarette and slowly smoked it while she read the latest issue of Cosmo. After a few minutes the foam began to tingle. It was becoming uncomfortable, like burning, by the time the timer went off, but I didn't complain for fear of further punishment, or that she would just leave me to myself again. My arms were killing me after being raised above my head for so long. After the timer went off she untied my arms, put a shower cap on me and turned on the shower. When the water rinsed the cream off of my skin, it also took my body hair with it! I was stunned. She turned off the water, toweled me dry, pulled my hair down, and then inspected me head to toe. She appeared satisfied with her work because she nodded to herself. She rubbed some lotion all over my body as well, which stopped the burning and tingling. I felt odd without my body hair, but it was kind of nice. My skin felt silky smooth, especially when my legs rubbed together as I moved around. I got another erection as Angie finished rubbing the lotion on, and since I didn't have any clothes on, there wasn't any hiding it. Angie glanced at it and said, "Enjoying your new womanhood, Tammy? I'm glad to see you are coming around." I blushed furiously, and Angie just gave a soft giggle as she noticed my flushed cheeks. Maybe I was starting to enjoy the idea of being a woman. I had to get away from these women before I passed the point of no return! "Come with me, Tammy," she said. She took my hand and gently led me to a closed off room in another part of the basement. I was nearly glowing with the attention and affection she was displaying towards me. Inside there was an area that was set up like a seat and accompanying station from a hair salon, with a large mirror and every hair cutting implement imaginable. There were hair coloring and dyeing products, and a small sink for washing hair, just like they have in salons. Separately, there was a makeover area, with a smaller chair, large mirror, and piles of makeup and skin care products. There were nail care products as well. Angie led me towards the hair cutting station and when we got close, she stopped and tenderly placed her hands on my lower back and pulled our bodies together. Our faces were only inches apart, and I had no place to put my hands comfortably other than on her lower back. She didn't seem to mind. "Today is going to be a wonderful day for you, Tammy," she said, her voice husky, like she was caught up in the emotion of the moment. "We are going to bring out the beautiful person inside you and make sure your physical beauty reflects the beauty inside. Enjoy every minute of it because it is going to be very special and you will remember it for a long time." She gave me a tender kiss on the lips, and then stroked my cheek and lips with her finger. She released me from our partial embrace, sighed, and took a step back after finally releasing me from our eye contact as well. "Sit down, please," Angie said, pointing to the hair cutting chair. "After all these months of demanding that you not cut your hair, I am going to cut your hair for you." I involuntarily cringed at the thought of my long hair being cropped, and Angie must have noticed because she laughed a little. "Don't worry," she said, "I am not going to cut much off in terms of length, but we do need to style it to make it look more attractive." Again without my control, I relaxed a little. Angie laughed again. "Look into the mirror for me," she intoned, going into hairdresser mode. My hair was still wet from my shower before she came into my room, and I still didn't have any clothes on either. A naked hair cut was something new for me. She brushed and then combed my hair out thoroughly, making sure there were no tangles. Then she started cutting. She cut some off the back but not a lot. She cut just enough to even up the ends. More dramatic was what she did on the front and sides. She cut long layers with no bangs. After she spent some time blowing it dry and styling it, I could see that the look achieved at the end was incredible. It was a very high quality, albeit femininely styled, haircut. I was alternately turned on and revolted by what I saw in the mirror. What I saw was not Tim anymore. It truly was Tammy, an attractive female specimen! I couldn't decide whether to go with the flow, or fight against the feminization that they were forcing on me. At least I should fight it mentally if I couldn't fight it physically, right? I was still making up my mind when she guided me over to a dress hanging on the wall, with a plastic bag bulging with unknown contents draped over the hanger. She opened up the bag and took out a pair of black panties and a matching bra and handed them to me and watched as I put them on. Then she pulled out another item from the bag that looked like one of those back support devices that you see men wearing that do heavy lifting as part of their jobs. Except this one had four small clasps on the front and laces on the back. "This is a corset," she said, "and it will help create a feminine waistline for you until the hormones finish doing their work. It was custom made for your exact body measurements, since we needed it to be comfortable for long periods of wear even though it will be very, very tight. It will go from just under your breasts down to where your hips are. It has removable garter straps for when you need to wear stockings. You will need to wear it all day and night until we say you don't need it any more. You can take it off when you shower, of course. You will find that you can make it tighter as your body adjusts to it." It took a few minutes to get me into it, including some grunting from Angie as she pulled hard on the drawstrings in back. It took my breath away for a few minutes until I got used to it. It definitely sucked me in at the waist. Even though I consider myself slender, women have that curving in at the waist and back out at the hips. She took out a tape measure and measured my bust, waist, and hips. I was 38-26-36! Unbelievable since just a few weeks ago I was probably a 36-32-36. I now had an hourglass figure! She handed me a pair of black stockings next. She helped me put them on, thank goodness, because there was no way I was going to be able to get those catches on the garters hooked up through the stockings. Plus the corset made it very difficult to bend over to reach my feet. I don't know how women manage this stuff. How do they get out of the house before noon each day? Next she handed me the black dress. It was simple but attractive. It was sleeveless, with a plunging v-neckline that attractively displayed some of my new cleavage, which was now decidedly feminine without my chest hair to confuse the image. It was short but not obnoxiously so, with the hemline 6-8 inches above my knees. It was very form fitting, and showcased my new feminine shape effectively. Next were black pumps with 2 inch heels, which were easy enough to slip on, but made me feel like I was teetering and unbalanced. If I wanted to go somewhere fast, I was out of luck with these heels and the corset on. The combination of the two things considerably changed the way I walked. I sort of gingerly strutted around the room when I needed to move. After that she helped me put on jewelry: bracelets, a necklace, and dangling earrings to replace my studs. She also gave me a casual ring for the ring finger of my right hand. The jewelry was silver with black and white contrasts. It went with the dress very nicely. After I was clothed and the completely accessorized, she led me to the makeover chair, and I shivered involuntarily. I hesitated for a moment before I sat down. Maybe I unconsciously realized that this was another point of no return. Certainly it didn't seem like such a big step at the time, but the events that unfolded shortly after I allowed Angie to proceed trapped me mentally on top of the physical imprisonment that had already been imposed. I was aware that the makeup would make me look more feminine, but I couldn't have predicted that I would shortly turn the corner and want the feminization as much as my captors did. If I had known, maybe I would have fought it more at the time. There were so many small, incremental steps to the process of feminizing me that it was hard to identify the big steps where I could have fought it, mentally or physically. The four women had obviously planned well, and outsmarted me every step of the way. Maybe I never really had a chance. Anyway, Angie took charge and gently but firmly pushed me into the chair and my decision of whether to sit down was made for me. I was thinking that if I looked this feminine now, the makeup was going to seal the deal. I felt like I was drowning in a lake, shouting for help, but the people on the shoreline were just watching instead of trying to help. Once I went under, it was all over. The makeup was like the extra weight someone was placing on me as I was struggling to keep my head above water. As I was rolling these thoughts around in my mind, Angie was plucking my eyebrows thoroughly. It was somewhat painful, and it interrupted my ruminations. She worked at it for about 10 minutes, since I had somewhat bushy eyebrows. After she had achieved a much thinner, arched look on both sides, she began applying foundation to my face with a sponge. She brushed my face lightly with powder after the foundation was on. Then she went to work on my eyes. 3 colors of eye shadow, expertly blended, created a smoky, sultry look around my eyes. Eyeliner defined the eyes and mascara took my already long lashes and made them longer, darker, and thicker. At this point Lauren entered the room and nodded approval at the progress so far. She came over to me and said, "You look great Tammy! You are in good hands with Angie." She looked over at Angie, and asked, "Has she been a good girl this morning, Angie?" Angie replied, "Yes, very good. I think she is enjoying the transformation into a more feminine appearance. Isn't that right, Tammy?" I nodded sheepishly, and blushed again. Lauren looked pleased, and then lit a cigarette, inhaled deeply, and placed it in an ashtray on the makeup table. When Angie saw this, she lit her own cigarette, blew some smoke in my face, and then placed it in the ashtray next to Lauren's. Then Lauren stood behind me and began rubbing my shoulders and neck with a gentle massaging motion. She ran her fingers through my hair, and massaged my breasts as well. Every minute or so she would pause, pick up the cigarette, take a drag, exhale seductively, and continue with her ministrations. By the time she began manipulating my nipples, I was very turned on and had a strong erection going. Angie continued the makeup application as though nothing else was going on, even though it was difficult for me to keep still so she could continue to work. She occasionally took a drag on her cigarette as well, doing a pretty good job of imitating Lauren's sexy smoking routine. She lightly applied blush to my cheeks, and then dusted my face with powder again. Then she went to work on my lips. Dark red lip liner around the outside of my lips, with bright red in the interior painted on with a brush, created a bold pout that just exuded sexuality. She used a light yellow color in the middle of my upper and lower lips and blended everything together with the lip brush. Then a little gloss applied with the finger and she was done. "Voila!" she said, "The new and improved Tammy!" I looked my reflection in the mirror hungrily. I would definitely want to have sex with the woman I saw in the mirror. I could indulge my hair fetish just by looking in the mirror now! I was proud of how attractive I looked, and then I realized what I was thinking, and became disgusted with myself for giving in mentally. But I couldn't help looking at myself in the mirror. It was kind of like watching a car wreck - You want to look but know you shouldn't, you know you are going to feel guilty after you look, but you keep looking anyway, and then keep looking back again and again, drawn in by the scene. It was a turn on just to feel like I couldn't control my own desires and actions. It was as if the four women had me on strings like a puppet, and I was dancing around for their enjoyment. This was probably how they looked at what was going on as well. Lauren had been massaging me the whole time, and I was still very firm down below. She stopped for a moment and picked up a hairbrush to brush my hair vigorously. "Tammy," she said, "I expect you to brush your hair for 5-10 minutes each morning and evening. It will help keep your hair looking nice, and actually stimulates the follicles so that the hair grows more rapidly." Angie p