Family Values free porn video

Family Values By Alyssa Anderson "Listen, stop being such a little bitch, it's not like I lied to you." He delivered this statement coolly, crossing his legs and taking a sip of his bourbon, which he had helped himself to in his girlfriend's small but stylish apartment. The girlfriend paced in front of him, growing more angry but strangely not more scared as the man, Thomas O'Hara, looked at her with hard brown eyes that had made tough men shake. Stacy knew what he was capable of, but she didn't seem to care. "You're a freakin' hit man for the mob! The very mob that ruined my family's business and sent my father to an early grave!" "I'm an enforcer, not a hit man. And I was 16 when what happened to your father happened." He took another sip. "And I never said what I did exactly, except I worked for a family business." "But you would have bled him dry, just like you're probably doing to dozens of other honest, working people right now." Her blonde hair whipped around wildly, and he notice she was wearing an expensive dress he had bought her for a recent night at the opera. "Look, call me after you calm down," he said, abruptly rising and brushing imaginary lint off his black tweed sports jacket. "I've bought you lots of pretty things and I thought we had a good thing going, but if you want to give that all away ..." He shrugged and walked out of the apartment, lightly closing the door behind him. Stacy collapsed in tears after he left. She had thought she loved him, and now that she knew the truth about what he did, who he was, she felt hollow and angry. She'd never been so used, and she'd never been to furious. She realized her love had turned to hatred in the last 90 minutes. God, how na?ve I was, she thought. Maybe that's what hurt the worst. And as she curled up in bed, a final, evil thought entered her mind before she fell asleep. The next day Thomas found a handwritten note in his mailbox, and he knew it was from Stacy from the feminine but firm strokes of the word "Tom," on envelope. He hated to be called Tom, and she knew it. "Dear Tom. The revelation last night was too much for me to bear, so I'm ending our relationship and returning your ring. When you wear it I want you to remember what we had and what you lost. You will lose much more in the coming weeks, you'll soon realize, but you'll also find a new life that you deserve." Rather cryptic, Tom thought, and he smiled at the very idea she would threaten him. He slid the ring onto his ring finger, which was surprising. He always had worn it on his pinky, and he didn't think it would fit his larger finger. The ring was definitely his, but it somehow looked thinner and more feminine - the diamonds and the gold appeared elegant, not as he had remembered it when he had given it to Stacy in a flourish after they had first had sex. He headed to the bar and quickly found Tony in the back. He'd never noticed before, but Tony's shoulders were unusually broad and he wore his Italian suit with real style. His hair was thick and curled just over his ears, which was a good look for him. What was he thinking? Quickly Thomas shook those thoughts out of his head and got his days assignments. Nothing too hard, and not anything he'd need extra muscle to handle. He was a big man, 6'3" and 220, but sometimes even he needed some backup. Later that night at his apartment he tried to take off the ring, and wasn't surprised that it was stuck on his finger. Stupid. Why had he put it on there, he thought? And why do my nails need trimmed? I just did that a couple days ago. Likewise my hair could use a trip to the barber. He loved his hair -- thick and brown and silky to the touch. Chicks loved it too, so maybe it wasn't so bad it was a little long given he'd need to be finding a new girlfriend soon. But the next morning, his hair had grown three inches, at least, and his nails were longer and shaped in neat ovals, like a chick's. He almost stumbled over his scrub pants as he walked to the bathroom; they seemed to have gotten longer as he slept. When he looked in the mirror, he realized they hadn't lengthened, he'd grown shorter. He kept calm for 20 seconds, and then felt the ring tingle on his finger and desperately tried to yank it off. Though his fingers obviously were more slender, the ring was much thinner as well, and was a now unmistakably a chick's ring. He yelled, or at least tired. It came out more as a scream, and as he ran to the phone he felt a strange twinge as his nipples seemed to be sore and bounce a bit. He couldn't bare to take off his t-shirt to have a look. He had to talk to Stacy first. "Hello." "Hello, this is Thomas." "Funny, you don't sound like a Thomas." Stacy giggled and muffled the phone, speaking to someone else in the room. It was true, his voice had raised an octave. Not perfectly feminine, but not his baritone either. "What did you do to me, you bitch," he screamed into the phone, and he realized that it was he who was being the bitch. "Calm down honey! I guess you put the ring on as I expected. Listen, you remember that my grandmother used read Tarot cards and stuff? Well, I told her what your "family" had done to her only son, and she spent all last night working a spell on your ring. Suffice it to say it won't come off until the change in you is complete. You obviously realize you're turning into a girl, but don't worry lover. The spell can be reversed. All you have to do is sleep with your pal Tony, and your problems will be over." "Sleep with Tony? Are you crazy? I'm still a guy. He's not gay." "Oh, you won't be a guy for long, darling. I'd give it about a week and you won't have a shred of guy left in you. If I were you I'd lie low until then, and I'd buy something sexy and catch Tony away from that homicidal wife of his, and fuck him good." Click. The phone dropped from Thomas's nerveless hands, and for the first time since he was eight years old, he cried. Think think! Thomas had been in tough jams before, and there was always a way out. The first thing was he had to find someplace else to stay. If you don't show up after a day or two, the Family thinks something's happened - none of it good - and they come looking for you. He pulled on a pair of shorts, flip flops and a baseball cap, collected the roll of hundreds in his safe, packed clothes that Stacy kept in a drawer in his bedroom, and left his apartment. Luckily he managed to drain almost $3,000 from ATMS before they shut his cards off, and he made his way across town by taxi to a cheap apartment building owned by the Family, units of which were sometimes used as a safe house. He had keys, and let himself into an apartment he knew would be vacant for the next few weeks. If the landlord questioned him, he had a code word that would buy him plenty of time. He'd put hookers up here all the time - one of the perks of the job. There wasn't much he could do while the changes took over his body. They happened only when he was asleep, and though he knew he couldn't stave off sleeping, he tried and managed to stay up for 48 hours. But when he awoke on the couch, he realize he'd slept 14 hours and that more than his hair had grown. He had boobs. Like pointy adolescent boobs similar to Mary Louise's, the first girl he copped a feel from. They were hard behind the nipple and hurt when he pressed against them. His hair was now several inches past his shoulders, and he'd lost a few more inches in height. Maybe he was 5'9" now, and weighed 160 pounds. He shoulders were broad for a chick, and his hips narrow, but his manhood had retreated to the point he was hung like an eight year old. Stacy's clothes were still too tight on him, so he wore a pair of his old sweat pants and a t-shirt. Dinner was pizza delivery, and the kid who dropped it off barely gave him a glance. Strangely he felt a little weird about that -- like he thought the pointy boobs with no bra would have at least merited a glance. The guy was cute too - obviously a college kid making a few bucks on the side. He'd recruited lots of them to run drugs for the Family. He liked them because they scared easy. That night he found himself watching some stupid chick flick with Julia Roberts, but really nothing else but football was on. He rationalized he wasn't interested because he didn't have money on the game. The next morning he was shorter still, and his hair longer. At least he had beautiful hair like he had as a guy, he thought. Now it smelled nicer, and was a foot past his shoulders and swirled around his face in a sensuous tangle of waves. He still looked a little like himself, but his lips were plumper, his nose more narrow and his eyes ... his eyes had grown big and seductive with very long lashes. The urge to buy some mascara came over him, but once again Stacy's clothes didn't quite fit. Her c cup bra was too big and her jeans too short. His balls were the size of chick peas and his dick a string bean. The line had been definitely crossed now, there was no way he'd pass as a guy, but he still wasn't ready to venture out. His taste in television had gradually changed, too. He became intensely interested in Americas Next Top Model, and in commercials about makeup, shampoo and clothing. He'd spend hours in front of the mirror trying different things with his hair. He saw a girl on ANTM with a beautiful French braid, and to his astonishment he recreated the look almost perfectly with his own hair. He thought he might look better with bangs. Still his brain was always calculating about how to get out of his jam. Who could he threaten to get Stacy and her witch to change the spell? Could he pay them off? He knew her whole family didn't have much money, but they were the types who didn't seem to need a lot. He hated people like that because it removed his favorite forms of leverage -- denying money or bribing. Thursday must be curves day, he mused, as he looked at himself naked in the mirror the next morning. His ass was round and tight, and his hips had blossomed, making his skinny waist look even skinnier. Only it really wasn't skinny now so much as it was soft and slender, crowned with a perfectly cute little belly button. Finally his boobs fit the 34c bra and Stacy's blouse and tank top fit nicely. His breasts no longer hurt, and he realized they were fully developed. The nipples loved to be touched, whether he slowly ran a nail across them or pinched them. He guessed he was around 5'6", maybe 5'5", and made a mental note to buy some heels because he hated that the delivery boys looked down on him now. Or maybe they were just looking at his chest. One wanted to come in to make a phone call, and Thomas let him, not even thinking it would be hard to get him to leave. He may be a chick, but he still had authority in his voice, and the kid left without much argument. Afterwards, though, Thomas sank in the couch and sobbed. That had been close! What if he had ... taken ... advantage of me? He realized he now noticed guys in a different way. He wasn't attracted to them, but whereas before things like dimples or nice eyes never would have registered, he automatically kind of categorized them. Cute face. Strong arms. Nice lips, etc. The next morning his cell phone rang, and he recognized the ring as Stacy's. Before he could speak, she said, "Wake up sunshine, it's day seven, and you're all girl now!" Thomas quickly pushed his hands down to his bush and for the first time felt a vagina, his hand snapping back like it had been bitten. "You c....." "Now now Thomas. Or should we say Shannon? That's a good Irish girl's name, and my grandmother tells me you should be quite the Irish lass by this point. Is your hair red Shannon?" Thomas thought it was a rhetorical questions, but when she stopped talking, he felt compelled to answer. "It's like a dark auburn," he squeaked. "Oh how divine! Grandma said you'd start to think of your feminine attributes at this point -- it's part of the spell. She wanted to make sure you knew how to be nice and feminine." Then it all made sense to Thomas. The commercials, his hair, posing in front of the mirror. He was in the body of a girl with the vanity of a girl, but that was all. He might be physically weak and more emotional, but his personality was basically the same. "Why don't you pull yourself together and meet me at the mall around noon? We'll have lunch and get you some outfits to attract your new boyfriend. Byeeee, Shannon!" Thomas reviewed his options, and decided it was best to play along at this point. He didn't have his terror network of associates to bring pressure to bear on anyone, and he had no idea what kind of power the witch could exert on him through the damn ring. He glanced at the ring and realized it had transformed once again. It was a narrower band and instead of all diamonds, it had several pink stones. His hands were delicate and soft, and his fingers crowned by long elegant nails. With a sigh he went to the bathroom to inspect the latest changes. Thankfully the back of the bathroom door had a full-length mirror. He dropped his sweatpants and peeled off the tank top and his pretty mouth fell open in amazement. His hair was now past the middle of his back, and if anything was more gorgeous than before. He followed it past his slender, pale shoulders and saw how a few strands seemed to frame his perfect breasts. The were high and rounded with big pink nipples that suddenly hardened, as if on command. His waist flared to perfectly round hips, and he wondered how he could run now given his hands seemed to bump his hips as he walked. Then he just turned his hands out, and practiced walking that way. Totally feminine, but much more functional. He walked back into the bathroom and turned sideways, as had become his habit, to get the side view. His hair tapered down and pointed to what had become an unmistakable bubble butt. He gasped, knowing that as much as his breasts would be eye magnets for men, his ass was pump and perfect and a certain kind of man would find it irresistible. So much nicer than Stacy's. He had always been an ass man, and that was one area in which she had never satisfied him. He'd regularly cheated on her with a couple working girls who did have nice booties. Reflexively he shook it and did a little bump and grind as he had seen those girls do, and to his amazement he had all their moves down perfectly. Then he looked at his face. It definitely didn't have the hard look of a hooker's, or the dispassionate one of a stripper's. It was all sweetness and innocence, with wide surprised eyes framed by lacey lashes above a medium-sized, but perfectly shaped nose and those sculpted lips that framed perfect white teeth. He ran his lithe pink tongue over them and they were smooth and flawless, unlike his guy teeth, a couple of which had been knocked out and replaced with bridges. He had never had braces as a kid, but his girl teeth looked as though the braces had just come off. He smiled to get a better view, and his whole face seemed to light up with innocence and happiness so startling that his eyes grew wide in amazement, transforming his look to a girl who was surprised with a kitten on Christmas morning. But he wasn't a girl, he was a young woman, though just how young he couldn't tell. With the right makeup and clothes he could definitely pass for, maybe, 24. But that was a stretch. Standing there with no makeup and naked to the world he looked 18 or 19. With the right clothes and makeup - he constantly thought in those terms now automatically - he could even pass for younger, especially if he had bangs. Than might be useful as some point, and he filed the thought away. Then the moment of truth. He'd put exploring his new plumbing off, but he knew it was inevitable. His curvy but slender legs seemed to make a pedestal for his pussy. He realized he'd used that word, and the c word, constantly as a guy, but it didn't seem to fit his new sex. His was a soft and pretty vagina that responded to his touch instantly. Maybe it was the stress of the week, but he soon found himself under the shower having to hold his moans down as he reached four orgasms, and in his explorations he realized that he was a virgin. Exhausted, he finally ended his shower, dried his hair (it took, like, forever, but was so worth it, he thought absently), put it in a casual braid and put on Stacy's jeans (his ass looked so awesome in them), her bra (which now seemed a bit tight) and her blouse. The flip flops would have to do, but he realized he had a wad of cash and a mall full of shoes form which to choose, and that gave him a warm feeling. With one last look in the mirror (soon I'll have makeup!) he exited the drab building and caught a cab to the mall. Stacy was waiting for him in the food court, but of course didn't recognize him. Thomas walked up to her, made eye contact, bit his lower lip and then looked down. "It's me," he said, shyly, cursing himself for immediately taking a submissive tone and stance to his enemy. "Oh my gosh, Shannon!" When grandmother said you'd be stunning, I had no idea you'd be, well, stunning! And you look so young! Maybe I should get her to cast a spell on me! I'd be happy to loose like five years, but you look like you lost 15! Come here and give your big sister Stacy a hug!" To his surprise, Stacy gave him a long and tender hug, and he realized she was an inch or so taller now, making him 5'6". What was she up to? What was her ploy? Why would someone who obviously meant to humiliate him thorough be sweet? She seemed to read his mind and answered his questions: "Look, I've had regrets about this. I was so angry with you that I guess I behaved rashly. And before I calmed down the curse was already underway and grandma says we have to go through with it before you can change back. I'm sorry, Shannon, I really am. But let's make the best of the situation, shall we? I know that you're interested in being as pretty as possible despite yourself, and it must be killing you that you don't have pretty things and makeup and shoes and everything. Right?" Thomas ached for those things. And he knew once he had them he could stop thinking about them and think more clearly about his next moves. He hated her condescending tone, but reluctantly said, "Yes, it's practically all I've been thinking about all week." He managed to look her in the eyes when he said it, but she didn't seem to be at all taken aback. She beamed and obviously was studying his face. Looking for flaws? Did she look a little jealous? Thomas never would have been so sensitive to such things before, but now he seemed to possess a woman's intuition. He didn't get cocky, though. He realized someone like Stacy had years of practice at being a woman, and the best think he could do was observe and learn at this point. Lunch was torture. Then both had salads, and Stacy made subtle passive- aggressive comments about what a pretty walk he had, and how he had the booty he'd always wished she possessed. She took her time, seemingly to know that he was simply dying to get on with shopping and into some clothes he could be proud of. She loved pointing out that guys were eyeing him, and that he was teasing them by making brief eye contact, smiling a bit, and looking away. He hadn't even realized he was doing it, but given his desire to be pretty, which included being seen as pretty by others, he could imagine why he might. Finally, finally then started shopping. First stop, Victoria's Secret. Thomas had walked past the extravagant windows with the sexy mannequins wearing the prettiest lingerie on his way in, and his heart raced. Now, walking into the sanctum of femininity, he could barely contain himself. They bought him half a dozen bras and matching panties, and discovered that he was a 34c, verging on d. Stacy taught him how to place his breasts in a bra, especially a pushup bra, and he listened and practiced with rapt attention, much to her amusement. He couldn't stop admiring himself in the mirrors that showed him from every angle as he modeled his purchases, and Stacy, though much amused, finally had to drag him away. He wore a pink demi-cup creation and pink bikini panties with lace at the waist and hem, and a cute bow in front, under his clothes when they left. The next few hours were a whirlwind of forever 21, charlotte russe, urban outfitters, aeropostal, Roxy, DEliAS, wet seal, zumies, hollister, forever 21, wet seal and charlotte russe. At first Thomas resisted these stores for juniors fashions, but Stacy made a compelling case that they matched his body and age, and that he wanted to look his best, right? He could only agree. They bought so much they had to make a couple trips back to Stacy's car (which Thomas had leased for her) with packages. And as weird as it sounded, they actually had fun working together to find just the right tops, skirts, dresses, accessories and ... shoes. Glorious shoes! He had cork sandals, pumps, flirty flats and even darling athletic shoes. His shoe size was ridiculously small - size 6 - and his dress size and jeans size was a 4. Finding jeans that perfectly fit his rear was a challenged, but he eventually bought three pairs and learned how to squirm his curvy ass into them. He was amazed that they could fit his hips to the narrow waist. And marveled that when he finally zipped and buttoned they would hug his 23-inch waist perfectly. The highest heels he bought were 3.5 inches, and it took just a few minutes for him to learn to walk in them, swinging his hips and putting one foot in front of the other, heel to toe, heel to toe. The one clerk, a cute blonde with a high pony tail, encouraged him to "work it!" Stacy giggled with delight. He acted as though he enjoyed being part of the sorority of fashion, and maybe he actually did just a little, but he didn't let his guard down on the inside. He chose to wear a short, flirty summer dress with spaghetti straps to show off his arms and shoulders, and just a little bit of cleavage, and the cork-heels, when they finally went to the makeup counter at Nordstrom's. A very pretty 30-something woman treated Thomas like her long lost daughter, and made his face over and over again in casual, evening and dramatic looks. She kept all the looks young, though, and taught Thomas some valuable lessons about eyeliners and how to apply blush properly. He only had to be told once, and he seemed to absorb all information easily. His hands were even perfectly steady when he applied liquid mascara. His eyes looked so dramatic and sexy with the dark brown liner, extending mascara (he really did look like he had fake lashes on) and eye shadow, that he noticed guys who walked by were mesmerized by his eyes. He could keep them staring in his eyes as long as he wanted, like a hypnotist. The last stop was a salon where they got waxed in the same room - Thomas definitely was a ten to Stacy's seven, he decided - and a mani/pedi. Against his better judgment, because he did think he looked perfect, Stacy had some loose bangs cut into his gorgeous hair. The effect didn't make him look as young as he had thought, though he would definitely have to brush or pin them back to look older. When they fell down into his eyes he could easily pass for a college freshman clueless on how to find her way to her first class. Thomas had never gone to college, and the thought amused him but also sparked a longing he hadn't had in years. Probably since he was 18 as a guy, and just starting out on his criminal career. By the time Stacy dropped him off at his apartment he was exhausted, but stayed up until 3 a.m. trying all his outfits and shoes and makeup in different combinations. He donned a hot pink nightie, found the vibrator Stacy gave him (as a personal gift, she said, with a giggle), and practically used up a fresh set of batteries raising self-pleasuring to an art. He was alarmed he couldn?t stop himself from moaning high pretty moans, but he was satisfied when he finally fell asleep. He had a small but perfect wardrobe of pretty clothes and makeup, and he was starting to think that after a day as 'girl friends" with Stacy in which they had actually had fun together, that maybe she was truly regretful. That night Thomas dreamed of attending college and getting degree, and how proud his mom would be. First he dreamed of being a guy getting a degree in engineering, then a girl getting a degree in business, or maybe nursing. The next day Stacy called to say she was super busy at work, and that he should practice being a girl in public before she helped him catch Tony's eye. Figuring Tony liked overtly sexual girls, he put on a daring halter top - light blue with pink stripes - and a denim skirt and headed off to the university to feel what it would be like to be a college student. A large lecture hall had a class going on, and he boldly walked in and sat in back. The course was sociology, and the professor was a middle-aged woman with a good sense of humor. Everyone was taking notes, but he had no notebook and so just listened. When the class was over he waited to see guys give him the once-over before leaving, and when his female ego need to be pretty was satisfied, he carefully stood up so as not to flash his panties and shuffled out with the crowd. It was lunch time by then, and he got a grilled-cheese sandwich in the student commons and soaked in the experience. He was about to leave when a guy sat down across from him, smiling and asking if the seat was taken. He was about to blow the guy off when he realized every other table was full, so he smiled and said, "Nope, it's all yours, and stood up." "Wait, please don't go. I was hoping you had a few minutes to just talk. Want some frozen yogurt? I was just going to get some? Strawberry okay?" The boy stood up and walked to get them dessert, and he merely sat and admired how smooth the come-on was. When he got back to being a guy, this would definitely be a way to hit on chicks, he thought. When he returned, Thomas said, "Thank you, my name is Shannon, and I'm a sociology major." He extended his hand, and realized it was a masculine gesture. But the boy, David, took his hand gently and flashed a smile meant to be sexy, Thomas was sure. They made small talk about sports, weather and classes, and Thomas practiced poses, smiles, tossing his hair and applying a bit of makeup while the boy watched. David unconsciously licked his lips when Thomas put a light coat of pink lip gloss on. At one point he grasped his hands together to stretch, and in doing so pushed his breasts together to pop his cleavage. He was rewarded with David's eyes popping out in response. By the time David had to leave for his next class, he was practically begging Thomas for a date, and wrote her number on the palm of his hand. Thomas imagined him jerking off with thoughts of Shannon's boobs in his mind, and accidentally smearing the number on his palm. He giggled when they said goodbye, and deemed the practice session a success. Absently he thought that because David was like 6?3? he could wear his highest heels with no problem ? and that he should even by 5-inch ones. The looks of guys as he walked off campus made him feel totally hot and desirable. He knew it was the spell working, but it made him feel powerful too, and he'd always liked the feeling. The next afternoon Stacy came over and Thomas found himself telling her all about his time on campus while she listened intently. "That's a very good girl, Shannon. I'm proud of you!" Stacy said, and Thomas ignored the condescension and was pleased. "But Shannon, you have to realize that Tony is no college boy. He's going to want a girl who knows what she wants, and is willing to put out without a fuss." Stacy pulled out a dark red tube dress she had bought especially for his first meeting with Tony, and reminded him they had bought matching lipstick and nail polish. Thomas modeled the outfit and let Stacy curl his hair a bit, especially the layers that framed his face. He did look older, but probably only about 24. "Okay, sweetheart, time to go," Stacy said with a smile. "What? Now? Tonight? I thought maybe this weekend or ... something." "My waitress friend tells me that Tony has reservations at the steak house, and you're going to show up at the bar there. Just pretend Dave stood you up for a date. Flash that sexy, shy smile of yours, and I'll just bet Tony will at least buy you a drink and ask for your number. I got you a new cell phone with a cheap monthly plan so he can call you without dialing your number, okay?" Thomas figured he might as well get first contact over with, put some makeup and cash in his a little black purse, donned his black pumps and a little black short-sleeved sweater, and let Stacy drop him off at the restaurant. Sure enough, one Chablis later (he'd had to correct himself after initially ordering a draft), Tony showed up with Frank and Mario, and stopped by the bar to get whiskies before dinner. So predictable. Frank, always the obnoxious perv, leaned in close to Thomas and said with a smile showing his gold tooth: "You must be in the wrong place, the Miss Universe contest is next door." Thomas responded with: "No, I'm in the right place. I'm collecting lame pickup lines for my master's thesis." Tony and Frank laughed, and that was Thomas's opportunity to shoot Tony a little smile. Given he was by far the best looking of the three, it didn't seem unusual. "Buy you a drink by way of apology for my lame friend," Tony offered, and Thomas drained the remaining sip from his glass, and said, "sure, that would be nice." Thomas was impressed that Tony didn't come on strong at all while they chatted for a few minutes, mainly about what an idiot his boyfriend was for standing him up, nor did he try to hide his fat wedding band. He was self-assured and mildly amusing. Thomas was alarmed though when he and didn't ask for her number before the three went to have dinner. Feeling defeated, he finished his wine and asked the bartender to call him a cab. Half a minute later Tony came by and said, "My stoolie here tells me you just called a cab. I've decided to make it an early night, would you like a ride home?" Oh crap, Thomas thought, I'm trapped. I can't say no for risk of losing his interest, and if I say yes I can't show him where I'm living so I'll have to have him drop me off somewhere else, and then ... his mind whirled with options, but Tony made the point moot. "I have to run an errand first, so if you're not in a hurry we'll just make a little detour." Thomas knew what that meant, and he tried to hide his nervousness as Tony predictably drove not just to one of his spare apartments where he entertained women, but to the very apartment building where he was living! He was literally sweating slightly until it was evident they weren't going to his apartment. Instead, they stopped at a place on the top floor that has nicely furnished. Even Thomas didn't know this was one of the Family's spare love nests. Once inside, Tony asked if Thomas would like a drink while he attended to some business in the next room. He accepted more wine, and paced nervously while Tony made calls in the next room. Part of him felt sick at what was going to happen that night, but part of him was glad this nightmare was about to end. Lose his cherry to Tony, and hopefully the next day he'd wakeup a little masculine, and in a week he'd be back to his old self. He had a sudden pang of regret that no one would find him pretty, but he forced that thought - generated by the spell no doubt - deep into his mind. He freshened his makeup and even dabbed a little perfume on his cleavage and wrists, thinking the more Tony likes him, the quicker it may go. He checked his hair in the hallway mirror and took a mental picture of how he looked, thinking it was the prettiest he had ever been, and ever would be. Tony came out and poured himself some scotch, and they settled down on the couch. "Get your business all done?" "Yeah, just had to make a few calls. Business, you know. Things don't happen unless I make them happen." "You sound like a very important man, what do you do?" Thomas asked innocently. "Oh, a little finance - loans mostly. Plus some construction. Pretty boring stuff. The most important thing I'm doing tonight is rescuing you from a bad evening." Smooth, Thomas thought. "Well, I do like the attention, I can't lie," Thomas said truthfully. Then Tony said something that made Thomas tingle all over. "I'm sure you get lots of attention. You're one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen." Thomas felt his pulse race a bit and his breath quicken. "I'm sure you say that to all the girls you pick up in a bar." "No, Shannon. You are truly gorgeous. I mean, your eyes, your hair, your lips ... that dress. Even your perfume accentuates your beauty. I couldn't take my eyes off you from the moment I saw you. I just knew I had to at least taste those lips. May I?" Thomas felt his nipples harden and his panties moisten. He felt dizzy and his lips parted, he realized, invitingly. Tony leaned in and pressed his lips against Thomas's, his mustache tickling and his tongue tasting slightly of cigar smoke. After a long kiss, Tony continued with the compliments. "My god, your breasts are amazing. And I can tell from the way they jiggle when you walk that not only aren't you wearing a bra, but they're all natural. I would eat breakfast off your ass everyday if I could. And your waist is so tiny I bet I could fit my hands around it. Thomas was transfixed. It was as if Tony knew how much he loved being pretty. His strongest feminine trait by far, and one that overrode all his other traits, masculine and feminine. He was wet and when Tony gently pulled his dress down to expose his breasts and started sucking on them, he responded with those little high-pitched moans. Looking down at Tony suckling first the left nipple and then the right, he started feeling a little queasy at the thought of a man touching him in such a way. But after a couple minutes Tony broke from his breasts and said, "Whenever I touch you it's like I'm drinking in your beauty." After that, Thomas resigned himself to Tony completely. Before he knew it his dress was on the floor and he was being carried into the bedroom in just red lace panties. He didn't even notice how gaudy the bedroom was with its pink satin sheets and heart-shaped headboard. His first orgasm came as Tony licked his clit to the point he writhed and begged him not to stop. And with every break the compliments kept coming driving him into a total frenzy. He didn't even hesitate when Tony gently pushed his head down to his cock. Not huge, but with a big mushroom head. He fairly gagged on the size and the salty taste, and every time he felt like he couldn't take anymore, Tony would say things like, "Your lips are so hot, and I love you looking up at me with those gorgeous eyes." Then Thomas would feel horny and inspired, and push that head as deep into his mouth as it would go, until, amazingly, he felt Tony's balls on his chin. He was deep throating on his first, and hopefully last, blow job. Mercifully, Tony didn't cum in his mouth, but pulled him up, turned him roughly on his back, spread his legs and, looking down at him, pushed inside him and took his cherry in one powerful thrust. Thomas moaned a little in pain, but Tony didn't stop. He was being pounded and his breasts were bouncing all over his chest. Tony didn't bother with kissing at this point, except for occasionally sucking his nipples deeply in his mouth and flicking his rough tongue over the delicate pink tips. Thomas found himself closing his eyes and holding on to Tony's hips like you'd grab the sides of a rollercoaster car as you whipped around the curves. His second orgasm came quickly and almost violently as he was being fucked. His third orgasm was slower coming, but stronger. By that time his moans almost drowned out the squeaking of the bed. On his fourth orgasm he was shocked to feel Tony coming as the same time, because he thought it was never going to stop. Then Tony, a sweating heaving mass, fell on top of him and waited until his cock shrank and fell out - an eternity - until he rolled off. There was no talk, and without the compliments and orgasms the sheer disgust of being screwed by his boss washed over Thomas in waves that made him glad he hadn't eaten dinner. Five minutes later Tony rolled out of bed, left a $50 bill on the nightstand for "cab fare," and with a kiss and a few not-so-gentle spanks on his jiggling butt, made for the door. "Next time, baby, I want to top that perfect round ass of yours." That compliment made him a little less revolted, but not much. And wouldn't Tony be surprised when "Shannon" disappeared and there'd be no next time? Thomas ignored the $50, thinking that taking it would make him feel like a whore, dressed and walked slightly bow-legged to his apartment two floors down. He took a bath and then a shower, and rinsed every trace of Tony off himself, inside and out. For the first time in his life, he cried himself to sleep. The next morning he woke and almost ripped his nightie off to check his breasts. Were they smaller? It was hard to tell, so he raced to the bathroom, flicked on the lights, and looked hard, realizing that he hadn't taken his mascara off the night before and there were sable streaks down his cheeks. His lipstick was cracked and he suppressed the urge to wash his face or redo his makeup - obviously the mental part of the curse wasn't starting to lift, he thought - and refocused on his breasts. The nipples were reddened and sore from being sucked so hard, so maybe, just maybe they were smaller but swollen so ... aw hell, who am I kidding, Thomas thought. They're bigger if anything. he tried on a couple of his tighter bras and realized now they were really tight. His ass no bigger and his hair no longer, so that was good. It wasn't until later that day, after a long walk through campus, in jeans and a sweatshirt, no makeup and his hair in a tight braid, that he realize why his boobs were swollen. He was getting his period. His first order of business was buying tampons and pads, and using one of each in a McDonald's bathroom. He'd also been forced to buy a pair of generic panties because his pretty pair was ruined, and his skin practically rebelled when sliding them up his legs. They just didn't feel or look right, he thought. His second was calling Stacy, who was at work and could only speak in hush whispers. "I'm not turning back! And worse, I got my period today!" He practically screamed into the phone, a liberal streak of hysteria mixed in. Was he becoming more of a girl, or was it his period affecting him? "Calm done, calm down. You should be happy you're not pregnant, for one thing." That made Thomas feel more hysterical and more scared. He'd never even considered he might get pregnant. "Listen, just go home and take a hot bath. I'll talk to grandma and I'll come over after work. Could you have something for dinner? I have Junior League meeting at 7 and I won't have time to stop to get something to eat." She hung up. Thomas hurried home, buying some groceries on the way. He left the bags in the kitchen, but took one item out, poured himself a glass of Chablis and hurried into the bathroom. With shaking hands he unscrewed the top of the bubble bath, turned on the water as hot as he could stand and sipped his wine as he watched the tub fill. Piling his hair on top of his head, he eased himself into the bath and tried to relax. Normally he would have coolly gone through his options, but he found it hard to think about anything except: how an I ever going to get out of this? After shaving his legs he let the water out, put on a pair of pretty boy shorts (after carefully protecting them with a pad) and set about saut?ing chicken breasts in wine, lemon and butter, and making salad. Finally, Stacy knocked on the door, and greeted him with another long and tender hug. "I'm so sorry Shannon. I spoke to grandma and she said that just sleeping with Tony once doesn't make you lovers. You'll have to spend a "moon" together, or a month. Which means you'll have to be with him again." "I can't do that! He said he wanted to take me in ... my ... my rear last time. I couldn't do that. He's big. It would hurt so much. I'm just not ... can't ..." Thomas burst into tears and sat down on the floor where he stood. Stacy sat next to him and comforted him as best she could, drying his tears and planting little kisses on his cheeks and forehead. "Relax honey, let's have dinner and we'll talk through some options. Isn't that what you always said? There are always options?" Half an hour later Stacy had to go, and nothing had been decided except she'd return after her meeting. Thomas curled up on the couch, hugged his legs, and watched TV until she returned. She was carrying a black shopping bag that looked vague familiar, and after another long hug steered Thomas into the bedroom. "Look honey, we have to be practical here. You have to keep Tony interested for a month and if he likes backdoor play, that's what you'll have to give him." "Backdoor play? BACKDOOR PLAY? Is that what you call it?" "Actually honey, that's what you called it when we used to do it, isn't it?" "Oh. I guess so. But Tony's so much bigger than I am ... was ..." "That may be true honey, but you just have to get used to it. Let me help you. Roll over on your tummy and I'll show you what I mean." Thomas did as he was instructed, and felt his pajama bottoms and panties being pulled off. He'd been naked in front of Stacy many times as a guy and as a girl, but now he felt vulnerable and ... well ... naked. She started stroking his rear and telling him how "absolutely perfect" it was, "a real bubble butt booty," and then he felt a finger run up the cleft. His cheeks reflexively tightened, but eventually relaxed to her soothing words and compliments. He heard something being popped open and then her finger return, covered in oil, and press softly against his opening, gradually penetrating and sliding inside. "Now baby, you need to relax, and you need to give signals that you're enjoying this. You'll be pretending at first, believe me, but guys like to feel you're feeling pleasure too." Thomas thought that actually, most guys wouldn't care. He certainly never did. But he made little moans of pleasure and wiggled his ass, and even raised it off the bed a bit, humping Stacy's slender finger. It did actually feel good, even after she slipped in another finger, and finally a third. By this time Stacy had Thomas's top off, and had him raise his ass higher. With her free hand she played with his breasts, being careful not to squeeze too hard because she said she knew how sore they could get during a period. She also played with his hair and told him how she couldn't believe what a stunning young woman he was, and that any man would be proud to show him off. He drank in the compliments, and thought of himself in a full-length mermaid-style gown he'd seen on a Hollywood starlet in the Glamour magazine Stacy had bought him earlier. He was walking the red carpet on the arm of ... what was that handsome actor's name? ... smiling for the paparazzi. He found himself touching his clit with his vibrator, which Stacy had handed him, and coming to a couple nice orgasms before she stopped. Maybe it wouldn't be as bad as he thought. She walked into the bathroom, he guessed to wash her hands, and when she came out she told him to stay belly down, and not to turn around. She spread his legs and moved her legs between them, grabbed his hips and raised them up. Thomas then felt something big and blunt pushing into his ass and turned around to see Stacy naked, except for a massive black strapon. He let out a little involuntary scream. "Oh hush now, honey. You didn't think it would be that easy, did you?" With that she bucked her hips and the cock-shaped strapon's head popped into him and he yelped a pretty feminine yelp and dug his fingers into the pillow, his eyes watering." "P.. p ... please Stacy, not like this ..." But she pushed again, and he felt another couple inches forced in. He felt like he was being split in two. "This is just like you used to do to me, isn't it, baby?" Stacy said with an giggle smile, and she pushed again." "T ... this doesn't feel good at all. Please stop. At least let me get used to ..." But Stacy didn't stop, she pushed until the full length was inside him, and then proceeded to slap his ass while she fucked him. "Moan bitch. Moan so Tony will know you love it!" Thomas did his best to moan, and finally the pain subsided. He tried to use his vibrator, but he was being screwed so hard he couldn't keep it in a good place. He did feel vibrators coming from the strapon now - apparently it was a vibe and Stacy had turned it on. With it pushed entirely in him Stacy was humping the vibrating base and apparently cuming multiple times. On her last time she was laying on Thomas completely and pinching his nipples painfully. She whispered in his ear: "Tell me who's my good little bitch. Tell me!" "I'm your good little bitch," Thomas gasped. "What's your name? WHAT'S YOUR NAME?" "S... Shannon." "Do you love your pretty girl name, Shannon?" "Yes, I love my pretty girl name." "You love being a pretty girl that all the boys want to fuck, don't you Shannon." "Yes, I love it so much!" "Good girl." With that, Stacy released the straps on the strapon, and got up, leaving it in Thomas's ass. She abruptly dressed and left. Thomas gingerly removed the still vibrating dildo, managed to walk stiffly to the bathroom for another tubby, put on her favorite nightgown and once again cried himself to sleep. As bad as this was, he imagined with Tony it would be far worse. He didn't have long to wait to find out. Tony texted him the next day and invited him out to dinner, and said he'd send a car around to pick him up. Thomas picked the address of an apartment complex close enough that he could walk to it, and took a cab to the mall to buy a new dress. The shopping settled his nerves, as he knew it would, and he finally settled on a light blue silk sheath dress that reached to a couple inches above his knees, but had a cute kick pleat in back. It wasn't low cut, but it hugged his bodice and waist enticingly, and clung as only silk can. As least, that's what the sales girl said, and after admiring himself in the department store's three- way mirror for 10 minutes, he had to agree. She even talked him into buying a pair of strappy heels that matched the dress. They were higher than Thomas had ever worn before at 4 inches, but they made his legs look spectacular and forced both his butt and chest out. Heels, he thought, were amazing inventions. He noticed a salon wasn't too busy, and stopped to have his hair arranged in a sophisticated sweep with what must have been two dozen bobby pins. Then he bought lube and when he arrived back in the little apartment he managed to fill a tampon applicator with a generous amount and fill himself as best he could. He realized Tony would know what he'd done, but he didn't think he could stand his boss's huge cock inside him without it. Promptly at 7 p.m. a limo arrived and Thomas exited the apartment building's lobby, much to the disappointment of a couple college guys who had been relentlessly flirting with him as he waited. Why couldn't every guy be like David? he wondered absently. I mean that guy is so polite and even a bit shy. And so handsome. If I had those looks at his age I would have gotten laid twice as much, and by girls twice as pretty, he thought. Tony wasn't in the limo, but it delivered him back to the apartment building. So, it really wasn't going to be dinner, just a thorough screwing. He almost stopped in his own apartment to grab a bite to eat, but decided not to risk it. However, when Tony answered the door he saw he'd had dinner catered, complete with candlelight and an ice bucket of champagne. "Good evening darling," Tony said, before planting a kiss on Thomas's cheek and inviting him inside. "Hi Tony, I guess we're staying in for dinner, huh?" "I didn't think you'd mind, but maybe I should have warned you so you wouldn't have gone to all the trouble to dress up so nice. You are stunning, Shannon. I really mean it. So classy." Thomas felt the blood rise to his cheeks at the compliment, but saw that Tony was staring at his chest as he said it. The padded bra made him look bustier than he was - maybe a d cup even - and he realized that while on some level Tony must have realized his boobs hadn't grown in a couple days, the illusion raised Tony's lust level just the same. Note to self: Guys are easily fooled by a little foam padding. Dinner was wonderful. Duck and risotto and salad, and he practically scraped his plate clean, much like a dying man eating his last meal. Tony kept the conversation light, and peppered it with compliments, which has Thomas just aroused enough to think the next stage wouldn't be so bad. At the last bite of Cr?me br?l?e , Tony smiled and headed towards the bedroom, suggesting that Thomas slip into nothing while he "hit the head." Sitting on the bed in just his panties and high heels, Thomas suddenly had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. What was that smell? It was familiar, but not immediately identifiable. Suddenly it came to him, and he almost puked at the thought. Chloroform. Just a hint of chloroform. Panic almost paralyzed him, but he reached to the nightstand and with trembling fingers he opened the single drawer, and there inside was a handkerchief in a zip lock plastic bag, the bag not quite closed. Fuck. He knew Tony meant to knock him out. No! Tony meant to kill him! He'd done it before with a couple prostitutes in Mexico, or so it was rumored. He'd have his own personal snuff film played out in the bedroom, with himself as the star and Thomas as the victim. But why kill him? It didn't matter he realized in an instant, but before he could grab his dress and run for the door, He saw the bathroom door begin to open. Quietly as he could he closed the drawer and lay back on the bed, smiling his most seductive smile. Cool Thomas kicked in, and he started trying to devise a plan. "Hey lover, could we finish that champagne?" "Sure darling." Thomas started to get up, leading with his chest after swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, hoping Tony would like the show enough to want to watch him walk out. Once out the door, he'd kick off his heels, grab his purse with his apartment key and run in just his panties down to his own apartment. With luck, it would seem like he'd just vanished. The adrenaline was making the blood pound in his ears. "Sit tight, I'll bring the whole ice bucket in too." Thomas watched as Tony, glad only in black silk boxers, walked through the bedroom door and he started panicking anew. Why wasn't there a gun in the nightstand? Wait, there was a heavy pottery lamp on the nightstand! Without a second thought, Thomas picked it up and hit next to the door. It was heavy, and it both his slender arms to raise it above his head. When Tony's head appeared in the threshold, Thomas swung the lamp with all his strength, which he realized wasn't much, and cracked it over Tony's forehead. Tony stumbled back and then his legs gave out from underneath him, and he sat on the floor, dazed but conscious. Thomas dove to the nightstand, opened it and grabbed the chloroform bag, ignoring the zipper and ripping it open with both hands. He moved as fast as he could to get to Tony, but his heels and bouncing boobs seemed to conspire to make him move in slow motion. When he rounded the corner, Tony was already on his hands and knees, and Thomas heard him say, "You bitch," as he ran past, grabbing his purse and flinging open the door. Take off the heels? Don't take off the heels? He tugged at the straps of his left shoe while leaning against the apartment hallway wall, and it wasn't going to come off without a struggle, so he headed for the fire escape and ran as fast as he could down the stairs to his floor, the heels' clicking echoing ridiculously loudly on the uncarpeted stairs all the way. Once on his own floor, he did a high-heel race to his own door, and mercifully got the key in on the first try. What now? His mind raced. Tony wouldn't be able to find him for now - the odds of that were strong. Wait. Was Stacy behind this? Stacy knew where Thomas lived, and ... if ... crap. He had to leave the apartment, no, leave town, as soon as possible. Now. Immediately. He threw on jeans, socks, bra, t-shirt, sneakers and sweatshirt, and managed to cover his hair with a baseball cap. Then looked out the window to see Tony, a trickle of blood leaking down his forehead to the middle of his right cheek, looking around for him quickly before jumping in the limo. It peeled off immediately. Why had he left instead of continuing the search? Thomas didn't know, but didn't wait to think about it. He pulled out his big suitcase and emptied drawers into it, and once full, put the rest of his clothes in two big shopping bags, including a ridiculously conspicuous pink striped Victoria's Secret bag. Damn curse. Leave the damn clothes. Call a cab? No, cabs could be traced. Crap. Just walk away? Tony was sure to be calling in the troops even as he stood there. Of course, he'd have someone else to the cleanup, as he always did. If things didn't go well, Tony always spit - he attributed that to saving his life on many occasions. Just then a pizza delivery car pulled up at a house across the street, about half a block down. Thomas grabbed the suitcase and bags, and walked out the back of the apartment building, making his way through an alley before crossing the street, throwing his luggage in the back of the pizza car, peeling off his sweatshirt and sitting in the front seat. He wished he'd picked a padded bra, but the t-shirt was tight and pink and had a v-neck. He pulled tucked it in further to his jeans, pulling down the V and exposing more cleavage, so when the stunned pizza guy jumped in the car, the first thing he looked at was boobs. "Umm, hi. Can you help me? I really need to get to Elm Street in a hurry. I don't have money for a cab and I'm having a sleep over with some girlfriends tonight. Sorry for all my stuff in back. We're going to be trying on lots of outfits -- we're models. My name's Shannon." Thomas extended a his hand to shake the boy's hand, and managed to push his arm against his right boob a bit, creating even more cleavage. "Ummm. Sure. Yeah. My name's Tim." Thomas knew it was Tim, because it was on a big nametag on his stupid red and white shirt with the huge pizza parlor logo on it, but he just smiled a grateful smile and said, "Thank you so so much! You have no idea how cool this is for me!" He had Tim let him off near an alley, stashed his bags in some bushes, then entered an apartment building and pushed the buzzer for 510. A voice came on, and he said in his sexiest, neediest voice: ?Hi David, this is Shannon, remember from lunch? I, um, really need your help. Could you let me up?? To be continued ?