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Culture Clash By Julie O Edited By Barry G. Note: This story was inspired by an article on the BBC website. http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-south-asia-11217772 Chapter 1 Eighteen-year-old Marshall Graham intently watched the video being shown in college human sexuality class and felt a growing sense of rage. The video was a document on the practice of bachabaze in Afghanistan. Due to cultural and religious customs among some groups, women were not permitted to dance in public. However at certain celebrations such as weddings or birthdays, young boys were dressed up as woman and made to dance. They were often orphans, poor, or both and were forced into this life just to survive. The announcer in the documentary explained that some of them were sexually abused by the men at the celebrations. Professor Crowe turned off the monitor and cleared his throat. "As explained in the film, the term bachabaze means 'playing with boys' and while it is officially outlawed, there is little done to stop the practice," he stated. "So the authorities basically ignore it?" asked a girl named Karen. "Ignore it or pretend that it doesn't exist," replied Professor Crowe. "It's looked upon by many in power as harmless." "Well, they do have a lot of more important problems to solve," stated a guy named Tom. A student with dark complexion and a beard raised his hand and Professor Crowe pointed to him. "Yes, Abdul," said Professor Crowe. "My grandfather was born in Kabul and he told me about this practice...he said that the young boys were well taken care. He also said that many boys volunteered to dance," explained Abdul. Abdul was of medium build and height. Even though he had been born and raised in the States he was very quick to take issue with anyone who he saw as disparaging his heritage. Several of the other students rolled their eyes and others cringed as Abdul began to speak as he was not very popular with the other students in the class. Many felt he was too closed-minded and too quick to argue. Others felt he was very rude and disrespectful, especially to the female students and to those male students younger than him. Marshall Brady immediately interrupted. "Come on, how can you say that? I mean if you were starving and poor what other choices do you have?" asked Marshall. "It's still their choice," replied Abdul flippantly. "No it's not. Its sexual abuse...and for all practical purposes sexual slavery," countered Marshall. Marshall was a freshman and usually kept quiet in the classroom discussions, but after watching the video he couldn't keep quiet. "Just because they are boys and they are taking on female roles?" countered Abdul. "Is that why you object?" Marshall shook his head. "Their gender doesn't matter...I would be as outraged if they were young girls." Professor Crowe smiled slightly, pleased that Marshall was participating in the discussion. "I don't think you fully understand the cultural implications of this. Women are not allowed to dance at celebrations and weddings, the bacha fill a vital cultural role," countered Abdul. "Do you really believe that Abdul?" asked Karen. "I mean, you were born here in the states, right?" Abdul nodded. "Yes, but I do try to understand my heritage and culture. While I may not agree with it, I cannot condemn it either." Several other students joined in the discussion. To Marshall's surprise some sided with Abdul. "What about the ones who are underage? How can they consent to something like this?" asked Marshall. Abdul shrugged. "I'm sure you can find all sorts of examples of abuse...in all cultures and countries...including this one. I just don't think we have a right to condemn something from another culture without looking at all the sides." "Child abuse is child abuse...even if it's sanctioned by some of those in the society," countered Marshall. "You can't be that blind to believe that? I mean it's supposed to be illegal in Afghanistan, which means that many there don't see this as part of their culture." A large number of the students applauded Marshall, who broke out in a large smile. Abdul stared back and held back his anger. Up until then Abdul hadn't paid the thin young man any attention, but now he was furious with him. "Being forced to dress up as a girl...and made to dance...just so you can eat is bad enough...but what about the cases of sexual abuse?" asked Marshall. "How do you know if they are not willing participants?" countered Abdul. "I mean, just because they tell a reporter? They're probably afraid of being exposed as homosexuals." "So do you consider the men who use them homosexual too?" asked Marshall Abdul shook his head. "If a male wants to be seen as a woman...and offer themselves as a woman would...they are the one at fault not the person who accepts the offer," he replied. This comment caused an uproar in the class that forced Professor Crowe to intervene. "Okay, okay, let's calm down and refocus on the topic," he stated. "But isn't the abuse part of the topic?" asked Karen. "Exactly," added a student called Sam. "My family also came from Afghanistan and they told me about these practices." "And they must have agreed it serves an important purpose," added Abdul with a smile. "No, they thought it was an abusive practice that belonged in the past," replied Sam who glared at Abdul. "And just because the authorities ignore it doesn't make it legal or right." Abdul rolled in eyes in disgust. "My point exactly," added Marshall. Abdul turned and shared down Marshall. "If you took the time to try and understand another culture you might be more receptive," interrupted Abdul. Marshall shook his head. "No, that's not true! I have nothing against the culture, just the abuse," countered Marshall. "But if a society supports abuse like this then it's morally bankrupt. Many European cultures used to castrate young boys so they would keep their singing voices....and if they still did that I would be just as outraged." Unfortunately the bell rang and ended the class. "Very well, we'll take this up next class," stated Professor Crowe. "Don't forget to read chapter seven for next time." Marshall picked up his things and headed out of the classroom. He was very proud of himself in that he held his own in a classroom discussion. Abdul watched Marshall and the others leave the class as he slowly simmered. The boy had insulted his culture and he must be punished. Chapter 2 That evening Abdul visited his Uncle Farid and told him about the class. Most of Abdul's family had immigrated to the United States before he was born, but they still maintained their cultural heritage. "So many in the class believed the lies," said Abdul. "The worst one was a freshman...a boy who barely has said two words in the class until today. He infuriated me with his statements." "So this boy was insulting?" asked Farid. "Very much so," replied Abdul. "He was so obsessed with the misrepresentations in that film." "Tell me about the film." Abdul did as his uncle asked and told him about the film. "I've seen the film...it is very misleading," said Farid. "Did you tell them that you have seen the bachabaze at family celebrations?" Abdul laughed. "No, I didn't think they would understand." "Of course. But do you think...based on what you have seen...that the dancers were abused?" "No...But I only saw them dance...I never actually saw anything else. The dancers I saw seemed to enjoy what they were doing." "And what if I told you that it is true that sometimes men do take them, the bachas, to bed?" "Even here?" asked Abdul. "Yes, even here in America. And have you heard of anyone complaining?" "No, no I haven't," he replied. "So they are all willing participants?" There was a laugh. "Not at first...but just like a young horse fights the first time a saddle is placed on it's back...they eventually become tame and accept their role in life. It is a harmless tradition...and it allows men to have their pleasures without dishonouring our women, the bacha is rewarded with great personal wealth. Do you understand?" "Yes, Uncle," replied Abdul. "Besides the strong have always dominated the weak...it's the way of nature," continued Farid. "Now, tell me about this boy? What does he look like?" Abdul pictured Marshall in his mind. "He's only five-seven or five eight, thin, shoulder length brown hair...clean shaven," he answered. "I see...and how would describe his facial features?" "Young...soft," replied Abdul. "Like a girl?" asked Farid with a sly grin. Abdul smiled in spite of himself. "Yes...I suppose you could say that. He's not much of a man...and he could make a passable girl... with some work." "What is his name?" "I only know his first name...it is Marshall," replied Abdul. "Marshall...hmmm," stated Farid as he rubbed his chin. "What do you have in mind Uncle?" "I think that I can arrange that... Malika... performs as a bacha. I also think that Malika will find it a very eye-opening experience and provide some much needed insight into a culture other than her own." "Are you serious?" asked Abdul excitedly. The idea that the brash young man being turned into a sexy female dancer was very appealing. It sparked a feeling that he had never felt...a sensation of power and arousal. "Very...but don't worry, you won't get in trouble...I will see that everything is taken care of. Now I need you to find out where our future bacha lives. When you find out, call and tell me. I have a friend who would be very interested in helping young 'Malika' see our culture from a different viewpoint." Chapter 3 Marshall struggled to open his eyes as he sat up. His mind was clouded and he found it difficult to think as he sat up. Slowly things came into focus and he found that he was sitting on a thin foam mattress on the floor of a small room. He also immediately noticed that he was naked. Looking around the room he saw that there was only one door and no windows. He slowly stood up and tried the handle on the door...it didn't move. He pressed against the door and found that it was very solid. There was no way he could get out of the room. Looking around the room, he realized that it looked like a prison cell. There was no furniture, other than the mattress. There was a toilet in the corner and a small sink, otherwise the room was bare. The only light came from a bulb in the ceiling. He looked around the room and noticed that there was no switch to control the light. Marshall tried to recall what had happened. The last thing he remembered was that he was walking back to his dorm room when he heard someone walking up behind him. He remembered turning to look...and that's when everything went black. He tried to think of why he had been abducted. It was then when he realized that his body was hairless. He ran his hands over her arms and legs and felt how smooth they now were. Even his pubic hair was gone. His body seemed thinner too. As he inspected his body he noticed several marks on each arm. He realized that they were scars left from injections, some were fresh and some looked like they were nearly healed. How long have I been here he wondered? "Ahhhh, you are awake...be careful, you have been out for sometime now," said a man's voice from behind the door. Marshall slowly turned towards the sound of the voice. His whole body was stiff as if he hadn't moved around much lately. "Hello Malika," greeted the man. Marshall stared intently at the door. "Malika?" asked Marshall. "What do you mean?" "That is now your name now...Malika," stated the man. "It is Arabic, I've always thought it was very sweet and it's the closest I could find to your boy name." "What's going on? Why am I here?" asked Marshall. "Silence...you will not ask questions! You will only speak when told!" shouted the man. "And as I may point out, you are hardly in a position to argue." Marshall stared angrily at the door. "You will not ask questions or initiate conversation," continued the man firmly. "From this moment on, you will only talk if I give you permission. If you understand...nod." Marshall was furious, but he realized that he had few options so he nodded. There was the sound of hearty laughter. "See how easy it is to obey Malika? Do you like it? It's a very pretty name...one you will soon grow into as you take on a more feminine identity." Marshall stared at the door and mouthed the name. A confused look appeared on his face. "That's right, Malika is a girl's name...it is more fitting for you now. Now, if you do what is told and follow orders you will be released. If you try and fight us, we will still win, but it won't be as pleasant for you. Do you understand?" Marshall felt like screaming but he kept his mouth shut. "Nod if you understand, Malika." Marshall begrudgingly nodded. "Good. I suppose you are hungry," said the man. Marshall realized how famished he was and he nodded. He had no idea when the last time he had eaten. "Before you get your meal, tell me your name," ordered the man. Marshall stared back and didn't say a thing. "Again tell me your name," ordered the man. "Marshall," he replied defiantly. "Very well, have it your way, I will check in on you in the morning," said the man. Before Marshall could reply the room went dark. Chapter 4 Marshall was awakened by the light coming back on. He had no idea how long he had been asleep, only that he had to immediately go to the bathroom. As far as he could tell it had been three days since he first disobeyed his captor and he was famished. At least he had water to drink, but it did little to help him fight the pangs of hunger. He realized that his captor wasn't going to give in and that he would have to be the one to comply. Marshall then noticed the fresh marks on his arms and a chill ran up his spine. What was his captor doing to him? An hour later he heard a noise at the door. "Tell me your name and you will eat," stated the man. "Or do you want to starve?" Marshall lowered his head. "Well...I'm waiting... girl," taunted the man. "My name is...Malika." "Softer...like a girl," ordered the man. "My name is Malika." "And tell me Malika; do you want to be a boy or a girl?" he demanded. Malika glared at the door, but the rumbling from his empty belly was too powerful. "I...I want to be a girl," she replied with shame. She was so humiliated about how she had submitted. "See how easy that was?" replied the man. "The training will go easier if you accept your new gender role." A slot opened at the base of the door and a plate was shoved into the cell, along with a mug of tea. Malika looked at the plate. It was just a small serving of rice, a few small pieces of fruit, and what looked like a piece of pita bread. But she was too hungry to complain and she quickly began to eat her meal with her fingers as he didn't supply any utensils. In a few moments her plate was empty. "You will get two meals a day...if you follow orders," said the man. "Additionally the better you obey the more food you will get. If you understand, nod." Malika did as she was asked. "When the slot opens slip the plate and mug back through it," he ordered. Malika obeyed. "Very good, now tell me you name again and tell me that you're a girl," he ordered. "Do it soft and feminine." She sighed and then replied. "My name is Malika and I am a girl." "See how easy it is to obey...it will get easier each time," he said. She didn't say anything as the room began to spin and she had trouble focusing. It was all she could do to keep her balance. She fell down on her side and as she looked up at the door she drifted into darkness. Chapter 5 Malika lost all track of time as all aspects of her life were controlled by her unseen captors. She tried to estimate how long she was in the cell by the delivery of her meals, but she suspected that wasn't very accurate. As for the meals, they were always the same....just rice, fruit, bread and tea. Malika was always hungry and she noticed that she was still losing weight. She had always been thin, but now she was very skinny, at least in the arms, legs and waist. But she was also appearing to gain weight in other parts of her body. To her horror she appeared to be developing breasts. They were very small...almost like a girl entering puberty. Her hips and ass also felt as if they were getting larger. She knew there had to be something in the food, but she was too hungry to avoid eating it. She also realized that the marks on her arms had to have been from injections of female hormones. She also realized there was nothing she could do but hope that her captors would release her. The next time the lights came on, she immediately noticed that something new had been done to her. Her skin was now darker in color as if she had a deep tan. The color didn't look as if she had been dyed, it looked too natural. Her nipples were very dark in color as was her cock. She wasn't sure, but she thought that her cock looked smaller. She looked at her hands and noticed that her nails were now very long and painted a dark red. Her toenails were the same color. She also noticed that her hair now felt fuller. She reached up and felt that it was now very curly. Her hair and her body also smelled like flowers...as if she had been sprayed all over with perfume. To top it off her ears were now pierced and she had studs in each lobe. "Good morning Malika," stated the man. "I see you have noticed the improvements." She looked up at the door. "After today's meal, you will be moved to a better room. Whether you stay there is dependant on your behaviour. If you are an obedient girl then you will get to stay there...if not you will be returned immediately to the cell. Do you understand?" Malika nodded submissively. "Very good. Now, I will let you ask me one question before you are served your meal." Malika thought about it and opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. She tried again without success. She then tried to scream and again nothing came out. The silence was shattered by the sound of her captor laughing. "Good, it worked. Malika, your vocal cords have been paralyzed. Don't worry; you will regain the power to speak when we let you go. However in the meantime it is best that you cannot speak...besides, I doubt you have anything important to say. As you will soon learn, a woman should keep quiet in the company of men...and so should one who takes on a woman's role." Malika felt like crying and she had to use all her willpower to not break down. Her food was shoved into the room. She badly wanted to ignore it, but she was so hungry and she immediately began to eat. Chapter 6 When she awoke, she found she was in a much larger room. She got off her mattress and looked around the room. In addition to a toilet and sink, the room had a bathtub. She felt her insides rumbling and she rushed to the bathroom. When she was done and cleaned up, she noticed the full length mirror that was mounted on the wall in the bathroom. Malika was shocked when she saw her reflection. She couldn't believe how different she looked. Her skin was dark brown in color and she realized that she could easily be mistaken for being from the Middle East or from Asia. What also struck her was how much younger she looked. Thanks to her weight loss and body weight shifts, she looked as if she was a young girl. Her hair was also a different color. It was now a dark black and it flowed around her face in large curls. She then heard the voice of her tormentor. "I see you have discovered how pretty you have become," he said. "Please come into the main room." Malika obeyed and walked back into the main room. "Look at the television," he ordered. Malika saw that there was a flat screen TV mounded on the wall. "Turn on the DVD player," ordered the man. She picked up the remote and pressed play. "Now watch," he ordered. She sat down on her mattress and stared at the screen. It showed what appeared to be a young girl dancing in front of a large audience, an audience entirely of men. Malika immediately realized what she was seeing. It looked very similar to the video she had watched in college what seemed liked weeks ago. "You will watch and study the moves you see...then you will start to copy them," ordered the man. "That's right Malika, you are now a bacha...well you will be by the time I am done training you. I have trained many bacha over the years and you are no different than those of all the others who broke and accepted their fate. Granted you will be more feminine than most of them, but that's because we want you to get the most out of this experience. You will dance soon at an upcoming wedding celebration and entertain the men. Afterwards, you will be set free." She turned and looked at the door. "Of course it all depends on how well you dance. If you don't do a satisfactory job then you will have to train some more...and if you do a very good job...well let's just leave it at that. Just remember, I own you and you will do as you are told...if you know what is good for you. Do you understand?" She nodded as the tears began to roll down her face. "You will also find that you have clothes...dresses and other girlish items, you will start wearing them, Malika. You will also be trained how to put on makeup, but that is not for a few days. In the mean time, watch the TV and start practicing dancing." Malika nodded. "Don't worry; I'm not going to change you permanently; however you need to see that other cultures have value." Chapter 7 Malika watched the DVD all morning. She was shocked by how feminine the boys in the video were, much more than the ones she had seen in college. She also noticed how intently the men were who were watching the dancers. The DVD showed what looked like dozens of men watching the various dancers. Malika wasn't sure but she suspected the videos were shot here in the states. Most of the men were dressed in suits, although a few were wearing more traditional outfits. The DVD ended and a notice came up on the screen instructing her to put in the next DVD. She followed the instructions and watched as the next DVD came up on the screen. There was just a single dancer on the screen and no audience. The voice of her captor came on and instructed her to stand up and to try and follow the dance moves. Malika automatically did as she was told. The music started up and she found herself trying to mimic the moves of the bacha on the screen. It was difficult at first, but she gradually began to pick up the moves. The whole time she was being watched by Farid and the man who was training Malika. "Well, what do you think?" asked Farid. The man, whose name was Yusuf, rubbed his beard as he watched Malika dance. "She has potential...but what pleases me more is the way she looks. As you know the biggest problem I have in training bachas in this country is their age. I have to find older males than I would use back in Afghanistan...but the laws here are so strict that it's not worth the risk. This one looks like a young girl even though she is eighteen. " "Well, I must thank you for training her...she must learn a lesson about mocking our culture," he said. "Too bad that I can't keep her...she would be very popular," said Yusuf. Farid shrugged his shoulders. "We can talk about that after her first performance," replied Farid. "That is acceptable," replied Yusuf. Chapter 8 Malika was now spending many hours a day practicing her dancing. She was now dressing in traditional Afghani women's clothing. Today she was wearing a flowing multicoloured dress and a matching head scarf. On her ankles and wrists she wore bracelets made of bells. She was learning how to use the dress and the bells as part of her dancing. She found that she no longer had to think about what she was doing... it was becoming automatic...and that frightened her. She also doubted that she would be set free after just one event. She also did her best to try and hold on to her real identity...but it was difficult and with each passing day she could feel her male existence slipping away. Malika suspected that she was being drugged to increase her acceptance of her new feminine life...but there was little she could do about it, all she could do was hold and hope that her captor kept his word and eventually released her. Every day he told her about her duties as a dancer and how important it was that she act as feminine as possible. He told her that she would wear a very fancy outfit that would enhance her illusion of femininity. Malika wasn't sure how much of this was now an illusion as she was becoming more feminine with each passing day. Her breasts were still small, but they were noticeable and they moved as she danced. Whatever was used to change her skin color didn't seem to fade and she suspected it wasn't a dye. It also was so uniform that she realized that they had changed her skin pigmentation...and she worried if they could change it back. She still couldn't talk and the idea of being speechless for the rest of her life was too horrible to contemplate. While her submission to her captor continued to grow, she did maintain her bitterness towards Abdul. She recognized that he had to be behind her captivity and transformation. Some how, some day, some way she would get back at him, it was the only thing that kept her going. "Malika, you may take a break," stated her captor. She looked up at the speaker and nodded. "You have really improved my flower," he stated. "You are fast becoming an accomplished dancer." She nodded again. "I want you to spend the next few hours working on your makeup," he ordered. "A special outfit will be delivered to you later. You will put it on, along with your jewelry." She nodded again. "I want to have some photos taken of you to show the host of the party you will be dancing at to show him how feminine you have become," he continued. "I have already sent him photos of what you once looked like...I know he will be impressed as will his guests." Malika walked over to her makeup table and began to apply her makeup. There were photos of women made up and she copied her new look from them. "I pride myself on having the finest bachas in North America...and you Malika are one of my finest creations," he said. "I only wish I could keep you...but we have a deal." Even if she could, she wouldn't have replied as she would have told him that she didn't believe him. An hour later, a very elaborate outfit was set inside the room. "Your makeup and hair look wonderful Malika. You look like a young girl who is desperate to look older than her tender years. Now, put on the outfit, followed by the jewelry and of course your bells." The outfit consisted of a multi-color dress that was covered with small mirrors. There was also an aqua colored pair of pants, and a matching chandor or head scarf. It was very feminine and very sexy. In addition she put on a fancy freshwater pearl and crystal necklace, matching earrings, rings for both her fingers and toes, and of course the bracelets with the bells. A short time later Malika was finished dressing. She stared at her reflection in the mirror and barely recognized herself. "Exquisite," stated her captor. "If I didn't know better I would think you were no older than thirteen or fourteen...the perfect age to be a wife!" He then began to laugh. Malika just stared back and felt her face get warm as she blushed. "Okay, my sweet, I will be coming into your room in a minute to photograph you. Let it be understood, I am very strong and powerful and more than capable of handling a delicate bacha like you." Malika nodded. A moment later a large muscular man stepped into the room. He was muscular and appeared to be in mid-forties. "If you could speak you would call me Uncle Yusuf, all my bachas call me uncle. Now, I will tell you how to pose and you will obey." Malika nodded submissively. He spent the next twenty minutes making her pose. He also photographed her dancing. The last photos were the most embarrassing as he made her undress so he could show that she was still technically male. "Now, there's one last thing I need to do before you get dressed," he announced as he sat down. "Come here girl." Malika walked over to him. "Now, lie across my lap," he ordered. Malika did as she was told. "What I am about to do isn't because you displeased me...I am doing it to let you know what is in store for you should you fail to please me," he stated. A moment later Malika felt his hand slap hard on her exposed ass. She opened her mouth to cry out in pain, but nothing came out. The first slap was followed by another and another. "Remember you are a weak little sissy...no longer a male...yet not quite a woman...you will obey and you will serve," he exclaimed as he continued to spank her. Malika was soon sobbing as he beat her. "Stand up," he ordered. Malika did as she was told. She wiped away the tears that were rolling down her face. "I hope that is that last time I will have to do that...but you must understand your role in life...you are weak and submissive...wonderful traits for a woman. Now, go clean yourself up," he ordered. Malika nodded weakly as she retreated to her bedroom. Chapter 9 What seemed like several days later Malika was loaded into the back of a van and driven by Yusuf to what he had described as a bachelor's party. Malika was fully dressed in the same outfit that she had posed in earlier. She was fully made-up and her hair styled. Her body and hair was scented with perfume, completing the feminine illusion. When they arrived the location of the party, Yusuf gave her a cup of tea to drink as he went over his final instructions. "Remember to always smile at the men in the crowd," he ordered. "They want to see you happy and flirtatious." She nodded as she drank the strong tea. There was a funny aftertaste, but she had no choice but to drink it. "I fully expect you to be the best bacha at the party...do not disappoint me Malika," he continued. "Unless you want to stay as a little girl. If you fail to entertain the crowd I will keep you until you learn to obey!" She handed him the cup and as she did a strange feeling swept through her body. She suddenly felt very relaxed and at ease. "It's okay my flower, I drugged the tea so that you will be more relaxed and happy. It will make you one with the music." He then led her into the main hall of the building. As they approached the hall, she could hear the music and she began to automatically move to the rhythm. As she was led out to the middle of the room the crowd parted to let her in. She looked around and saw what looked like a hundred or more men, some dressed in suits and others in traditional attire. There was no introduction, but she sensed that they all knew who she was and who she had been. Many of the men were pointing at her and nodding. The music started and she began to dance. She quickly matched the speed and rhythm of the music. As the music grew louder and faster she danced to entertain the crowd, swaying and spinning her body, seductively smiling at the men...performing as the trained bacha she was. Yusuf watched with pride as Malika danced. He hoped that Farid would sell her to him so he could complete her feminization and transformation. As Malika danced she saw a familiar face, it was Abdul and he was staring back at her. She noticed he was leering at her as if he was sexually aroused by her dancing. She felt so ashamed, but she didn't show it as she continued to smile and dance for the men. Chapter 10 While there were several other dancers, it was obvious that Malika was liked the most by the men. She danced five times for them before the celebration ended. She could tell by the looks on the faces of the men that she was doing a good job. Many of them looked at her with lust and it was obvious that they wanted her. Yusuf greeted her as she finished and gave her another cup of tea. By now she was feeling rather buzzed, but she drank it all. Several men came up to Yusuf and began to talk to him. Malika wanted to listen in, but instead she was greeted by Abdul. "Well, I must admit that you make a wonderful dancer," he stated with a smile. "For someone who was so against it you definitely have had a change of mind." She should have been furious, but she was too foggy in the mind and all she could do was listen and take his abuse. "I barely recognized you Malika...I mean, you look so much like a young girl...you look very lovely with your new darker complexion too...it suits you...and I hope it lets you appreciate my culture more...now that you're part of it. I also hope he makes you stay the way you are." Malika lowered her head in shame. "Actually, I take that back...I think he should change you...all the way into a woman...so you can serve a man in all manners." He then began to laugh loudly. "So this pretty thing was once a boy, Abdul?" interrupted another man. "Yes, believe it or not, this sweet feminine thing was at one time a big mouthed boy who mocked what she has become, Jamal," replied Abdul. "I find it hard to believe this lovely flower was ever male," stated Jamal as he ran his eyes over her. "She doesn't also look old enough for college... which is just as well as education is wasted on women." "I know...she looks like she could be a good bride now," he replied with a laugh. "I agree...I can picture her keeping my house...cooking, cleaning, and then letting me fuck her!" Abdul and Jamal broke out in loud laughter. Malika was powerless to do anything. Even if she could speak, she was too drugged to reply, so all she could do was stare back meekly. "I would love to hear your comments on bachabaze now," continued Abdul as he leaned close to her. "I mean you seemed so happy, so carefree as you danced for all those men...flaunting your body for them...smiling seductively at them...did you see the looks on their faces...every man in that room wanted you Malika...including me...and I bet you want them...is that what you want to pleasure a man?" Malika felt so ashamed. "I bet you want to be a wife...keeping house...submissive and obedient to your husband as a woman should be...eager to please...eager to be fucked," he continued. Yusuf intervened. "I'm sorry to break this up, but I have other obligations for my bacha," he said. Abdul smiled knowingly. "She is quite lovely...and such a wonderful dancer," said Abdul. "Thank you for sharing her with us." Yusuf smiled. "You are welcome." Even in her drugged state, Malika thought that she would have her revenge one day. She wondered where he was taking her as she thought the party was over and there would be no more dancing. Yusuf led Malika through the admiring crowd and into a back room. "Undress Malika or I will strip you...and if I have to do that then I will also beat you," he ordered. Malika lowered her head in shame as she meekly obeyed. "Very good...now lie down on your belly on the bed," he ordered. He then tied to her wrists securely to the bed posts. Pillow were placed under her belly so that her rear was pushed up and exposed. "This is another important part of being a bacha...you will pleasure the important men at the party," he said. "Not that I think you will...or that you're capable of it...but don't fight back, just take it and it will go by faster." Malika realized what he was saying, but she was helpless to do anything. She heard a man enter the room and climb onto the bed. He then began to apply what felt like a lubricant to her ass. If she could have screamed she would have as he entered her. It was not love-making...it was even more base than fucking....it was rape. The man fucked her hard, his hands running over her breasts as he violated her. She wasn't a lover...she was a whore...just a sex-toy for the man. Malika was in such shock that she didn't realize at first that he had climaxed. He climbed off the bed and made some comment to Yusuf. She was just regaining her breath when another man came in and the process started again. Malika couldn't believe that this was happening. It was bad enough that she had been abducted and feminized, but now, this was the biggest insult as she was sexually abused by one man after another. "I have a special treat for your next customer," said Yusuf. "He begged me for the honor of using you." Malika wondered what he was talking as the next man started to mount her, she then heard his voice...it was Abdul. "Thank you for this great honor," said Abdul. Malika shook her head but it did no good as Abdul quickly pressed his cock deep into her body. "Ohhh, this feels so good," he moaned as he fucked her. "I had no idea it would feel so good." She tried to pull away but she was too weak. "What a sweet girl you've become...such a hot piece of ass," he continued and he fucked her. "I bet you'll never make fun of my culture again...and now it's your culture Malika." Chapter 11 By the time she was untied, she had lost track of how many men had violated her. It was so degrading and she wanted to scream or at least curl up and cry. She did neither as she was still heavily drugged as all she could do was obey Yusuf. Farid watched Malika meekly cleaned herself up and then got dressed. "She was very well received," stated Yusuf with a sly smile. Farid laughed. "You could say that...she definitely fulfilled her duties." "So, can I keep her?" asked Yusuf hopefully. "I can't...if my nephew wasn't involved I would gladly let you keep her," he said. "But he's my brother's oldest son...and I cannot risk him getting in trouble. If she's found with you then the authorities might connect Abdul to her abduction." Yusuf nodded. "It's a shame; she's probably the best that I've trained since I came to this country. She responded so well to the treatments. So what are you going to do with her...obviously she can't be let go. The changes...both physical and mental are very difficult to reverse." "She will be sold shortly...I have several prospects interested in her," he replied. "Do you think she knows the truth?" "Probably...she'll know for sure when I give her back her voice," replied Yusuf. "When will you do that?" asked Farid. "I'll give her the antidote this evening...when she wakes up tomorrow she'll have her voice back...but it won't be the voice she used to have," replied Yusuf with a laugh. "So when do you think that she'll be bought?" "I'm expecting an offer in the next twenty-four hours. I sent out a video of her dancing and the bidders were very impressed." "Pity...I really could use her," replied Yusuf. "You will be compensated for your loss my friend," said Farid. "Thank you my friend." Chapter 12 Malika woke up the next day and tried to shake off the fog in her head. She also felt great shame about what had happened the previous night. She bathed and then applied her makeup and styled her hair. Her outfit was laid out for her. It was an olive colored dress called a Shami dress, with white pants and a white chador or head scarf. She let out a sigh and then got dressed. By the time she was finished dressing her meager meal was waiting for her. As she ate she heard the door open and turned to see Yusuf enter. "Good morning Malika," he greeted. She nodded. "I just wanted to let you know that you were the hit of the party....I am very proud of how you performed," he stated. "Both on the dance floor and in the bedroom." She nodded again as she ate. She also felt her face get warm as she blushed from embarrassment. "I believe you deserve a reward for your hard work," he continued. "I want you to try and speak." Malika stopped eating and turned to look at him. He smiled as he nodded. "Try saying good morning," he ordered. She hesitated for a moment before clearing her throat. Maybe she was going to be let free soon. "Good...morning," she said softly. A shocked look appeared on her face. "What...what has happened ...to my voice?" she gasped. It was now very high pitched and feminine sounding. "I think you sound lovely...it matches your looks," he said. "I sound like a girl...a little girl," she exclaimed. He nodded. "I agree...I'm very pleased. A little girl like you should sound as sweet as she looks." "I thought...you said...you said that you would change me back," she said softly as tears began to roll down her face. "I think we both know that impossible my dear Malika...the changes are too extensive," he replied. "You said that I would be free if I did what you said," she cried. He shrugged. "So I lied... what can you do about it? Nothing...a weak little girl like you cannot do anything." "So...what will happen to me? Will I continue to dance for you?" she asked. "Unfortunately no...I offered to buy you, but you will have a new owner," he said. She wiped her tears away. "Buy me?" "That's right, but instead you have been sold to a wealthy businessman," he stated. A shocked looked appeared on her face. "I...I've...been sold?" she stammered. "Yes my dear...you are a slave now...and slaves are sold. My advice to you is to do your best consider that you are property. It is also a good idea that you please your new master or he will sell you to someone else." She lowered her head and continued to cry. "I understand that he has some changes in store for you...I suspect that you will look quite lovely when he's done with you," he said. She felt as if she was going to be ill. "So...when does that happen?" she asked. "Now," replied Yusuf. "Now?" she asked. Yusuf nodded. "But there is time for one thing...get on your knees Malika." She obeyed without hesitation. "See how easy you obey...and your submission will only get stronger," he stated as he sat down in front of her. "Now, suck my cock." Malika tried to resist her programming, but it was too strong and she soon had his cock in her mouth. "I have waited a long time for this...you are very good at it too..." he moaned. Malika just closed her eyes and prayed that it wouldn't get worse. **** "You are very good at pleasuring men. Now, go clean yourself up and make yourself pretty. You will be picked up shortly and you need to look presentable." She slowly stood up and walked slowly to the bathroom. Chapter 13 When she came back into the main room, Yusuf inspected her. "Very good, you look very respectable," he said. "Now, put on your sandals." Malika obeyed and when she stood back up she saw Yusuf motioning for her to come closer. "I know you can be trusted... but your trainer insisted that you wear these while you are transported," he said. A metal collar was placed around her neck and locked into place. Chains hung down from the collar and these were attached to cuffs that were locked around her wrists and ankles. An additional chain connected her wrists. She was then covered completely in a dark black burqa. "There, you are now presentable to be transported. Part of your training will be to further immerse you into Middle Eastern culture so that you accept it as your own," said Yusuf. "I wish I could keep you...but it was not meant to be." Malika nodded as he led her out of the room. A large man dressed in a navy colored suit was waiting for them in the living room. "Here she is," stated Yusuf. The man stood up and Malika immediately noticed how tall he was, she estimated he was almost six-four in height. He had a full black beard and a shaved head. It made him look very intimidating. The man walked over and lifted her veil. He nodded and lowered it back down. "Excellent," he stated. "She looks very feminine...she will turn out quite lovely." Yusuf handed the man the keys to the collar and cuffs. "I doubt she will give you any trouble," said Yusuf. "She is very well mannered and submissive." The man nodded and then addressed Malika. "My name is Rashid and I will be the one who will be in charge of the rest of your training and transformation... so you can best serve your new Master. You will call me Sir and you will obey my every command, is that clear?" "Yes, Sir," she replied meekly. "Very good. I have been training slaves since before you were born and I know all the tricks of the trade. If you do as you are told your time with me with go quickly," he continued. "Yes, Sir." "And if you resist life will be very hard on you. I know how to inflict pain without leaving a mark...I can be very cruel when I need to be, do you understand? "Yes, Sir," she replied softly. "Now let's get started as of now you are no longer Malika...you are now just slave...and you must earn the right to have a name, is that clear?" "I understand, Sir...I will obey." He smiled. "We will see." He then motioned for her to follow him out to his car. "Lower your veil and follow me Slave," he ordered. She did as she was told and silently shuffled submissively behind him as her nightmare continued. Chapter 14 It had been several months since she had become a slave and she was still without a name. Her appearance had changed dramatically since she entered her training. She stood naked in front of the full-length mirror of her bedroom, naked with the exception of the locked collar that she always wore as an outward sign that she was a slave. She stared at her body and tried to picture the way she once looked. Her face had undergone dramatic changes thanks to several sessions of plastic surgery. Her nose was now different; her nostrils were shaped different too. Her lips were large and full. The surgery had not only feminized her but it changed her ethnicity, so she looked as if she was from the Middle East. Additionally, her face was decorated with jewelry. A gold ring was inserted into her left nostril. She opened her mouth and looked at the stud in her tongue, designed to improve her oral giving abilities. She also had several rings in each ear. The effects of the surgery had enhanced her feminine appearance, while keeping her looking as if she was still very young. Her feminine appearance was enhanced by the permanent makeup that had been applied to her lips, eyes, and eyebrows. Her breasts were now firm and round thanks to the hormones and implants. According to her last measurement she was a 32 C. However they looked even larger due to her tiny waist and surgically enlarged hips. She ran her fingers over her nipples and the gold rings that had been inserted into them. Another ring was in her navel and another was in the head of her now minuscule clitty. It was no longer a cock...as men had cocks. Her tiny clitty was the sole physical reminder that she had once been a male. She knew that the only reason she still had it was to remind her of this fact. It was permanently limp as she had been castrated shortly after arriving at the training facility. Rashid explained that the act of castration served to enhance her femininity and to make her more submissive. Next she turned and looked over her shoulders at her shapely round ass. Like much of her body it had been surgically enhanced. Her hole had also been modified to allow her to take in cocks much easier. She looked at her shapely legs, so smooth and soft, she was the model of femininity. Her skin was now a lighter shade of brown. She didn't understand how, but she had been told that the effect was permanent. In all, she now looked so different that she doubted that her own parents would recognize her. She wondered if they were still looking for her or had they given up. She didn't even know how long it had been since she had been abducted. As with her confinement as a bacha, she was kept away from all forms of media and communication. She then looked down at the intricate tattoo that was just above her clitty. It was a sign that she was a slave...property, no longer a free person. The floral design had a barcode in the center of the tattoo. Rashid told her that the code had been registered so that anyone who scanned it would know who owned her, making escape impossible. She was now in her next phase of her training. Rashid told her that she would serve as a sexual slave for her still unnamed master. He explained that the fact that she was neither male nor female that it was acceptable for her married master to use her to take care of his huge sexual appetite. Rashid explained that she would be expected to perform whatever sexual act her master desired no matter how depraved. Her mind had been conditioned so that she would be submissive and obedient...and to love and crave sex. Rashid was an expert of mental manipulation and he had conditioned her so that she loved sex. He also conditioned her so that she thought of the cultures of the Middle East as that of her own; especially the part of a woman being subservient and obedient to a man. As she studied her appearance she realized that her old life was over. She wondered if her family still thought of her...and what they would say of they saw her now. They probably wouldn't even believe that she was their child. She then looked at the clock and realized it was time to get dressed. She dressed in what looked like a Hollywood harem girl outfit. It barely covered her body, but she liked the way it felt against her soft skin. Partly due to her conditioning and surgery and partly out of necessity she now accepted that she would be feminine for the rest of her life, and so she figured she might as well try to make the best of a bad situation. She still hung onto the possibility, no matter how remote, that she would one day be free again. Granted she could never be a male again, but anything would be better than being a slave. The good thing was that her new master lived in the United States. Rashid told her that several of the bidders lived in other countries. She realized that once she was transported out of the country she would never return, so she decided that she would do whatever it took to please her new master. Part of this dream of freedom was that she wanted revenge against Abdul...it was the main thing that kept her going... the only thing that kept her going But that would have to wait as she would first have to show Rashid that she was worthy enough to be a slave. Chapter 15 Two months later she met her Master. His name was Tariq and he was a very wealthy businessman in mid-fifties and outwardly he lived a very respectful life in Los Angeles. He owned a very large mansion in a secluded exclusive gated neighborhood. The heavy training collar that she had worn while under Rashid's tutorage was replaced with a thin gold collar, which was locked around her thin neck. To the casual look it might be seen as jewelry. Tariq was a handsome man, with a slightly graying beard. He was also very fit and muscular. She immediately accepted that if she had to be a slave it would be better to have a handsome Master. Tariq named her Zia. It was done to reiterate her new life as his property. At least she had a nice place to live. Her new home was a large guest cottage that sat on one corner of the compound. It had a bedroom, a bathroom, a small living room and a kitchen. The cottage had a small enclosed deck that allowed her to step outside and not be seen. There was no television, just a CD player. All the CDs were from various Middle Eastern countries. The only thing she had to read were English editions of Arabic women's magazines. The few books she was allowed were also designed for women and were about Middle Eastern culture. He explained that he wanted her immersed in the culture and not exposed to her old one, the one that seemed so far away now to her. It was made very clear to her by Tariq that she was his property and she was there to serve him sexually. He explained that he loved his wife, but that she was not very sexual and he was blessed with a very high sex drive. His wife understood his sexual needs, but didn't want to share him with another woman. She did agree that he could have a feminized male to satisfy his sexual desires. It was explained that she would not initiate any contact with the other members of his family or anyone else on the grounds and that she was not permitted to leave her cottage without his permission. Zia accepted the rules and promised to obey them. "Very well Zia," he stated. "You are quite lovely...when I saw the video of you dancing I knew I had to have you...it was worth the wait to have you modified to serve me. I will take good care of you...and you will lack nothing. You will be a cherished pet." He then reached up and attached a gold disk to her collar. "It shows that you are a slave...my pet...my property," he explained. "Yes Master," she replied meekly. "I find it amazing that you were not only once a male...but Caucasian. You look as if you came from a village back home. Your history and appearance was also part of the reason my wife agreed to my purchasing you. Like me, she liked the idea of an American male living as a feminized slave." "Yes Master," she replied. "I'm very pleased with your slight accent...it's just strong enough to make you sound as if you were born outside this country," he stated. Zia nodded. "Tell me my sweet, how old are you?" he demanded. Zia hesitated. "I...I'm no longer sure...I was eighteen when I was taken...but I'm not sure how long ago that was," she confessed. Tariq nodded. "Very well, it doesn't matter...if anyone asks you, tell them you are sixteen, young enough to be deflowered, but still legal." "Yes Master, I am sixteen." "Undress," he ordered. "But do it slowly...let me enjoy it as you disrobe." Zia obeyed and slowly and seductively striped down until she was totally naked. "Amazing...I still can't believe that you were once a male," he said. She lowered her head submissively. "And you volunteered for this new life, right?" he asked. Zia wanted to tell him the truth that she had been forced, but instead she told him the false story that she had been made to learn. "That's correct, I have always wanted to be both a woman and a slave," she replied. "I willingly became a slave." "I see...then show me what a good girl you are," he stated. "Get on your knees and suck my cock." Zia obeyed and started her servitude as his slave. Chapter 16 Barely a day went by when wasn't sexually servicing Tariq. He provided her with a variety of outfits to fulfil his varied sexual tastes. However many of them were Middle Eastern in style, as if to enforce the cultural changes in Zia's life. He explained that while he loved his wife, she rarely dressed in traditional clothing and he honoured her decisions. Zia found that she now actually preferred the Middle Eastern outfits. Thanks to her conditioning she felt more comfortable in them. As she never knew when Tariq might show up, she had to keep her appearance up at all times as a woman must always be ready to please her man. She was by now very adept in applying makeup and styling her hair, which by now was now so long that it reached the middle of her back. Sometimes Tariq would tell her how he wanted her to dress and other times he left it up to her. At least the sex was pleasurable. Tariq wasn't like the men at the party who had brutally used her. He loved sex and lovemaking. She knew that she was his property, but he was very romantic with her. Even though she couldn't climax, she found the sex enjoyable and she found herself eager to be with him. Thanks to her surgery sex with Tariq was not painful, which was good as he sometimes used her several times a day. While he made it clear that he owned her, he was a kind master and never abused or hit her. But it was clear that she was his slave. The small gold collar that was locked around her neck was a constant reminder that she was a slave. On the collar was the tag that marked her as his property. The tattoo above her clitty was also another symbol of her enslavement. Three months after she arrived, Tariq brought his wife, Hala, to meet her. "Zia, you will call my wife Mistress and you will obey her as you obey me...you are as much her property as you are mine," stated Tariq. "I understand Master," replied Zia. She was on her knees in front of him. She was dressed in one of her harem girl outfits. "Sit up Zia," ordered Hala. Zia obeyed and looked at the older yet very beautiful woman. Hala walked around her slowly. "Amazing, I would have never guessed that this was once a boy and a white boy at that," said Hala. "I know," he replied. "She's remarkable." "Zia, do you like serving my husband?" asked Hala. Hala was a thin stately looking woman in her fifties, yet she had lost little of her beauty. She took pride in her personal appearance and always dressed in the latest outfits. "Mistress, it is my duty to please my Master," she replied. "But do you enjoy serving him?" she asked. "Yes Mistress, he is a very kind and caring Master. I enjoy bringing him pleasure," replied Zia. "And do you like being a slave?" asked Hala. Zia hesitated for a moment before answering. "Mistress, I accept my fate to be owed, I accept that I must serve," she replied. Hala smiled. "Interesting answer. She's not the mindless little whore I thought she might be. I think I will enjoy having her serve me." Zia glanced over at Tariq to see if her answer angered him, but to her relief he didn't seem to care. "Zia, I will be going out of town for a few weeks on business. So you are not bored you will serve my wife as her servant. You will obey her every command, do you understand?" stated Tariq "Yes Master, I will obey," replied Zia. "Very good," he replied as he departed. "Zia, I have no use for you as a sexual slave," stated Hala. "You will serve me as my maid and household servant. I fully expect you to obey me." "I will obey Mistress," replied Zia. She wasn't sure, but she thought she saw Mistress wink at her before she left. Chapter 17 "Zia, you will dress in more appropriate outfits when you accompany me out into the city as my servant, do you understand?" asked Hala. "Yes Mistress," she replied. "I have some maid uniforms that will nice on you. I'm not talking about some sort of fetish thing that my husband might pick out, or the ethnic outfits that you often wear, but a conservative plain dress, appropriate for the servant of a lady, do you understand?" "Yes Mistress," replied Zia. She was somewhat disappointed that she wouldn't be wearing Middle Eastern clothes. "Your makeup and hair will also look conservative," she added. "Yes Mistress," replied Zia. "Just so you know, I am not ashamed of my culture or native dress, I do wear it occasionally, but I prefer to wear these kinds of clothes," she explained as she pointed to her outfit. "I also don't want to stand out by having what looks like slave girl following me. As a maid you will not stand out. Do you understand?" "Yes Mistress," replied Zia. Two hours later Zia was wearing a conservative navy colored dress. Its hemline was just below her knees. With the outfit she wore dark stockings and two inch heels. Her hair was pulled back into a bun and her makeup was minimal. Zia noticed that her Mistress dressed in conservative tailored dark red suit and high heels. She walked behind her Mistress and carried her bags as they went from shop to shop. It was the first time that she had been out of the compound since she had been delivered to Tariq. However she made no attempt to escape as her programming was too embedded into her personality. She also realized that she had no where to go. When they returned to the mansion Hala supervised Zia as she put the items away. "Very impressive Zia," she said. "You are an excellent servant." "Thank you Mistress," replied Zia. "I think I will enjoy having you as a servant while my husband is away," she said. Zia nodded. "I will do my best to please you Mistress." Chapter 18 Over the next few weeks, Zia served as Hala's personal servant. It was a nice change of pace from the constant sexual servitude and Zia was soon enjoying herself. Hala noticed the change in the young servant. She was also intrigued by her. One day after a day in the city, Hala took Zia by the hand. "Come with me, let's talk," said Hala. Zia looked confused but she obeyed. They walked into the living room and sat down. "So, tell me about yourself Zia?" asked Hala. "Um, what do you want to know Mistress?" asked Zia somewhat confused by the request. Hala smiled. "I mean, how did you end up here...as a slave? You're very obedient but it obviously it wasn't your decision." Zia's jaw dropped slightly and she wasn't sure how to reply. "Tariq told me that you willingly sought out this life...but I have my doubts," continued Hala. "Please tell me your story." "I don't know if I can...I...I might get in trouble," she replied in a barely audible tone. "I see...okay, I'll make this easy for you. Zia, I order you to tell me the truth." Zia nodded. "The truth is I was abducted, abused, transformed, and forced into this life, Mistress." "We were told that you willingly entered this life of servitude," said Hala. Zia shook her head. "No...that's not true...Mistress." Hala nodded. "I see... so Zia please tell me everything and leave nothing out." Chapter 19 By the time she was done telling Hala her story, Zia was in tears. Hala comforted her as she would one of her own daughters. "It's okay dear, you can let it out," she said as she hugged and caressed Zia. Zia was soon sobbing as she let out her emotions. When she was done she wiped her eyes as she regained her composure. "Thank you Mistress," replied Zia. "I must look a mess." "It's okay my dear," replied Hala softly as she handed Zia a box of tissues. "I've wanted to tell someone what happened to me for so long," said Zia and she wiped away her tears. "Do you have any idea how long it has been since you were abducted?" Zia shook her head. "I've been cut off from all news and I have lost track of time. I think it was part of my conditioning." "You do remember the date you were abducted?" asked Hala. Zia told her. "My dear...prepare yourself for a shock... it's been over two and a half years," said Hala. "Over two years? That's not possible," exclaimed Zia. "Your initial enslavement must have been longer than you were aware of," said Hala. "I guess so...I was drugged many times." "Come with me," said Hala as she took Zia by the hand. She led her to her office and logged onto the computer. "Tell me where you went to college and your home town," said Hala. "Oh, also your full male name." Within ten minutes she found the news articles related to Marshall's disappearance. "Is that you?" asked Ha