Island Paradise
- 3 years ago
- 49
- 0
Island Paradise 1 free porn video
ISLAND PARADISE by Throne
A little more than a year ago I was a wealthy independent man. Now I am
none of those things. My assets are gone, I am enslaved, and you could
no longer identify me as male. One thing that I didn't lose is my
memory. I can vividly recall everything that occurred. There are scenes
that I replay in my mind over and over. Sometimes I wish that, along
with all my other losses, I had forfeited my ability to remember. My
wife has insisted that I record it all. Reliving it this way only makes
it more vivid. She knows that. But I have to do whatever she says. I
have no choice. Let me start my story on the fateful day when those
great changes were set into motion.
There I was, Benny Skyler, with more money than I would ever need and
plenty of time to indulge my every whim. I had an impressive home,
several expensive cars, and a stunning wife. I also had some unusual
interests, one of which was a fascination with kinky sex. I was
especially drawn to seeing lesbians in action. One of the reasons I
married my wife, Twyla, was that although she was straight, she had
experienced some same-sex encounters during her college years. I'll
admit that just picturing her with another woman, in the throes of
passion, obsessed me. During the first year of our marriage I often
tried to coerce her into having another of those trysts, but she was
adamantly opposed to it. Even so, I kept up the pressure, even starting
to hint that defying my wish might end our marriage. I pointed out that
she would be left penniless and that I had the clout to make sure that
she had no way to gain what she was entitled to.
The situation might have ended badly for her but then one day she called
me into her computer room -- it's a big house and there was space for
every possible use -- to show me something she had found on-line. I was
surprised to read an account on a travel site about an exotic resort that
catered strictly to lesbians. It was very exclusive, expensive and only
gay women were allowed to go there. I was caught up immediately in the
idea of visiting the place, even before I finished the article. But how
would that be possible? I told Twyla that I might have to send her
there, so she could report back with all the lascivious details. She
reminded me that she was no longer interested in girls as sexual
partners, but I just brushed aside her concerns and -- as I had been
doing -- suggested that dire consequences might result if she didn't
obey. She meekly agreed to do whatever I wished. That was a welcome
change.
I got all the information and obtained a reservation for two, figuring I
could find someone else to go with her. That way I would have a proxy to
make sure Twyla actually did follow through with my orders, and I could
get the second person's stories to enjoy as well. It was looking better
and better. With the help of a very specialized private investigator,
some guy named Crayle, I tracked down a classy lesbian call-girl who
catered to wealthy women in search of a discrete partner. Everything was
moving forward when my wife again called me to her computer.
She said, "This is really incredible, Benny. There's a company that has
a drug they've developed that will allow a man to pass for a woman."
"I... what?"
Seconds later I had chased her out of her seat and was peering at a
fantastic yet true story. It was a research company with a familiar
name, Gen-2, and the director, Jason Masters, was cautiously announcing
the discovery. He said it would be a boon to men with gender identity
issues. That disgusted me. The thought of guys who wanted to be women
had always made me queasy. But my immediate concern was to get my hands
on some of the drug they had come up with and use it so I could appear
convincingly female for a week in that island paradise. A full seven
days of watching my wife get into any lezzie relationship I wanted, with
me staying on the sidelines, using some easily concocted excuse, and
getting to see all the action live and close up.
"Damn it," I said to Twyla. "I'll have to figure some way to get to this
Jason what's-his-name and apply pressure."
She said, "But honey, you've already met him. Or at least I have. We
own stock in that company and we went to the opening of their new lab for
the stockholder meeting. I remember that we went because it was near
somewhere else you wanted to be, and by attending the meeting you were
able to write off the trip as a business expense."
"Hey, I do remember that. And it's not 'we' who own stock. It's just
me. Don't forget that... honey."
"I'm sorry," she said respectfully. "But I did meet Jason at the little
party they had afterwards. He might remember me. That would be a good
starting point for you."
"Or I could just buy more of their stock and lean on him. Hard."
"Well," she smiled winningly. "It's your choice, dear. I just thought
it might be easier this way. And I don't guess you'd want to wait longer
than you have to before we go to that resort." I hesitated and she
added, "It sounds like a really wild place. And I did agree to, you
know, get kinky with the other girls."
Hearing her put it that way, I forgot everything else. This would be my
dream come true. Maybe we could even go there for a week every year. I
didn't relish having to become outwardly female, even for just seven
days, but it would be worth it to fulfill my ultimate fantasy. I said I
would make plans to visit Jason who's-his-face. And of course she would
go with me. Twyla's good looks would certainly influence him.
Three days later we had flown to the major city nearest to where Gen-2
had its facility. We got a room in a major hotel and enjoyed the wonders
of room service. With all my excitement about what I was anticipating, I
wanted to indulge my fantasies a bit. I wished I hadn't cancelled that
lezzie call girl. It would have been great to see her with my wife. And
I was sure I could have coaxed my bride into doing it. Instead, I
decided that we would stay in and Twyla could relate one of her college
dates. I'd heard them all before but still enjoyed retellings. Why?
Because she would become noticeably uncomfortable as she spoke, and that
was a turn-on for me, too. I did get her to do that but then, when I was
really aroused and wanted sex, she complained about an upset stomach from
the rich food I had ordered. She even mentioned that I had insisted on
selecting her meal for her and, though she didn't say it, I figured that
meant it was my fault that she was ill. Well, no matter. Soon enough I
would be overwhelmed by sexual stimulation. What difference did one
night of horniness make?
The next day I drove our rented car to Gen-2. It was far out in the
countryside but that was a minor annoyance. We got there and, sure
enough, Jason did remember my wife. He even seemed charmed by her,
though he maintained his professional mien. And I finally remembered
him. He was tall and handsome and made me feel competitive. I explained
that I wanted to get into the resort, leaving out everything about my
real motivation, instead stressing how rich I was and saying that I was
interested in investing in the place, and that this was the only way I
could personally evaluate its worth. He didn't object and was
surprisingly easygoing about administering the drug. He gave a brief
explanation about how it worked, fooling a person's DNA into
reprogramming itself, but I cut him off before he was done, pointing out
that I didn't need those details. He said that was fine and that the
shots could be given whenever I wanted, once they took my medical history
and checked my vitals. He had me sign a bunch of papers, some of which
my wife had to co-sign. I hurried through all that and soon we were
ready to proceed. With visions of lesbian orgies dancing in my head, and
Twyla at the center of every one, I was like an addict waiting for his
fix.
We got to the room where my treatment was all going to happen. Jason
explained that I would need to be naked, so that they could see every
part of my body to detect any minor side effects, like a rash developing,
unlikely though that was. I reluctantly agreed, never having been
comfortable being undressed in front of others. There was a cute nurse
and a tall young guy, both of them in lab coats. I mentally pictured the
nurse in a hot clinch with Twyla. There wasn't even a private area to
undress in. I grumbled a bit as I got out of my tailored coat and
imported shirt, as well as my designer slacks and handmade shoes. Though
everyone maintained professional detachment, I couldn't help thinking
that they were all staring at me.
Once I was naked the young guy opened a large bottle of something and
began to swab me down with it. The nurse took photos of me with a
compact digital camera. Then Jason asked me one more time if I was sure
I wanted to go through with it. When I said yes he made a call and, less
than a minute later, a doctor entered the room. It was a woman, which I
wasn't thrilled about, and she was Black, though I didn't say how I felt
about that. I stood there while she scanned my information. Then she
prepared the injections.
"Please stay still, Sir," she said coolly as she began.
There were shots in my chest and buttocks, as well as several with very
small hypodermics to my face. She spoke as she worked, mentioning that
the main drug would do most of the work, but that there were others to
trigger 'contour modifications', by which I guessed she meant giving me
curves, and some to promote 'facial reconfiguring', which I took to mean
making my face more girly. Whatever. I became mildly euphoric, but when
I mentioned it she said that was normal. Then time seemed to stop. I
felt like I was someone else, watching Benny Skyler change. That guy
wiped me down again with something different from he had used before but
this time my body hair stuck to the disposable squares he was using. It
was actually happening. The changes had begun. My chest and butt
tingled and felt like they were... swelling? My face got numb but
afterwards became very relaxed. I was dimly aware that my vitals were
being checked again, but much more interested in the twin mounds I saw
rising on my smooth and hairless chest. I tried to say something and my
lips didn't cooperate. Everything faded out and I was unconscious for
however long.
When I came around again I was sitting down. Was there a pillow under my
bottom? Or had my buttocks gotten really full and round? And what was
that weight pulling down on my chest? Surely not boobs? I mean, they
were so heavy. I managed to mumble something, my lips still acting like
they weren't mine, and my voice sounding high and soft. All at once the
Black female doctor was filling my field of vision. She gave me a
reassuring smile and produced yet another needle. I tried to speak but
she shushed me, which I didn't like but couldn't do anything about.
She said, "This will revive you. Just relax and let it do its work.
You'll be back on your feet and moving around in no time. And we'll have
something for you to wear."
The needle stung my upper arm and she emptied the syringe completely. I
was more alert within minutes. Soon the young guy and cute nurse were
helping me to my feet and walking me around. I didn't appreciate having
another man with his hands on me while I was bare-assed, but soon I would
be back in control. My mind cleared further and that was when they
brought in Twyla. She grinned at me, almost maliciously it seemed, but I
blinked and her expression had become solicitous. Someone handed me a
small paper cup of water and told me to sip, not gulp. I did, coughed a
little, and spoke.
"Get my clothes," I told my wife, trying to be firm. My voice sounded so
odd. "I want to get dressed."
"Now, now," the doctor said. "Let's just take baby steps."
I didn't like her tone but I didn't possess my usual acerbity. Instead,
I murmured her last words back to her. "Baby steps."
"That's right," she soothed. "In a few minutes we'll let you see
yourself. And then we'll help you dress up pretty."
Has she said what I thought? 'Dress up pretty?' I thought about filing
a complaint. But at that moment I didn't have the willpower, which was
weird. The next time they got me walking, I was steered toward one of
those full length, three-panel mirrors like they have in dressing rooms.
What I saw made me gasp, though the sound was very unmanly. Three images
of overripe femininity confronted me. I gaped at someone with round
weighty breasts, flaring hips and, I saw in the side mirrors, a thrusting
bottom. Her face was mine but not mine. It had an unfamiliar softness
and overly plump lips. I moved and my most feminine assets, above and
below, jiggled. It was more than I had expected. A rush of panic seized
me. Twyla stepped close and took hold of my arm.
"It's all right," she whispered. "I'm here to take care of you. I'll
take GOOD care of you, Benny."
In the unfamiliar voice I was using, I insisted, "I don't need any help.
I can take care of..."
My wife put a finger to my pillow lips to silence me. She had never done
that before. Ever. Then she said, "Benny, you can't even drive. Right
now you like nothing like the picture on your driver's license. And all
of your credit cards have the name 'Benjamin' Skyler on them. You might
be able to make some small purchases, with people thinking you're
Benjamin's wife, but anything bigger might lead to an identity check, and
you don't have anything with your new face on it. Maybe we can get you
something. Instead of Benny it could say... Bunny." She tittered.
"That would certainly fit your new look."
I was outraged but, instead of my typical outburst, all I could manage
was a passive, "You're right. Thank you. I... appreciate... your help."
"No problem," she said casually, and patted my expanded backside.
That little laugh she had given bothered me, as did having her touch my
bottom that way. She had become so confident. I had gone in the other
direction. But there was still that vacation to look forward to, with
her fulfilling her promise to get into all kinds of lezzie mischief.
That made me feel better. But the Gen-2 people weren't quite done with
my make-over. A new member of their team came in, a tall blond with icy
blue eyes. She was pushing a small wheeled table and parked it alongside
me.
In a husky voice she said, "Please remain standing and move your feet
apart. Further. That's good."
I stood there, exposed and uneasy, while she examined my penis and
testicles, even crouching down to handle them. At least I was too shaken
up to get an erection. Someone brought her a chair and she sat in front
of me and began taking things off the tray. First there was some sort of
smelly sticky substance that she brushed all over my bald genitals. Then
she tucked my male parts into a bag of fine mesh. With nimble fingers
she pushed my organs back, took something from the tray, and placed it
over them. Then she pressed everything down and held it that way,
uncomfortably compressed. I felt a mild burning sensation which
gradually lessened. Then she let go and, to my shocked amazement,
everything stayed where it was. She had used some sort of adhesive, a
super glue I supposed, to keep my package squeezed into the undersized
bag and stuck to my body, out of sight. The final step was for her to
take yet another layer and apply it on top of the others. When she was
done with that she moved away and a mirror was held up so that I could
see the results. OMG, I had a pussy. An utterly convincing pubic mound
covered with hair that matched my natural dark-blond coloring.
"Perfect," declared the blond, her attitude suggesting that she hadn't
expected anything less. "You can wear that for an extended period,
shower in it, even swim in the ocean. It WON'T come off. Naturally,
you'll have to sit when you urinate."
Her voice was sexy but I wasn't happy with what I was hearing. I
repeated back to her, "WON'T come off?"
She shrugged and reminded me, "You want to pass for a woman, don't you?
Among a lot of lesbians? Who are going to be looking at that part of
your anatomy whenever they can? At a resort where nudity is common?"
I had no comeback for that. Instead, I turned to my wife, who gave me a
warm hug. She also got a hand between us and caressed one of my new
breasts. The sensation was incredible, more stimulating than anything I
had ever felt. My cock tried to get hard but couldn't. Instead, it
pressed against my trapped balls and made them hurt. I whimpered but she
must have mistaken it for passion, because she kissed my neck and
whispered to me about how attractive I was. After she stopped, I could
only stand there trying to take in what had just happened.
The blond got busy again, this time putting cosmetics on my face. It
surprised me that she did it with some sort of humming tool that she kept
changing the head on, but after everything else that had happened, I
simply stood there and accepted it.
When she was done she said, "This will stay on but you can add to it with
regular make-up."
She held up the same mirror that had been used to let me see my between
my legs. I was speechless. What I saw was an unquestionably female
face, the big lips now ruby red, the eyes lined, the brows high and
arched. I could see the tops of my breasts reflected. In a daze, I was
led to another room where a beauty parlor chair waited. Sitting there, I
had a rather effeminate guy fuss with my collar-length hair. He was
doing something to it but I wasn't sure what. It felt so strange to be
out of control of the situation like that. And I definitely didn't
appreciate having such a fruity male touching me, especially when he let
his fingers rest on my bare shoulders or lightly touch my neck. Still,
reminding myself of the rewards soon to come, memories that would last a
lifetime, I endured his ministrations. When he was done he swiveled the
chair and, as before, I got a good look at my made over self.
In my high wispy voice I marveled, "You... what did...?"
He leaned close to explain, "Hair extensions, honey. We'll be catering
to clients like you, who want to be total he-pussies. I mean, some will
still want their junk hanging out. But other ones, like you, prefer the
total woman approach. But this really works for you. I'm even a teeny-
weeny bit jealous."
I tried to snap at him but all that came out of my mouth was a long sigh
of exasperation. I just had to hang on until I got to that vacation
spot. I saw myself with a big drink in hand, ogling all the hot lezzies
and watching them pair off. Plus, there would be Twyla getting herself
into wild situations. I visualized her in extreme bondage with two big
Black gals teasing her most sensitive parts and then punishing her,
alternating those two treatments back and forth. I was feeling well
enough to get up from the chair by then, unaided, which I did, looking
around for those clothes I had been promised. Maybe something loose, a
plain caftan that wouldn't draw anyone's eyes.
What I saw instead was the blond, the Black girl, and my wife,
accompanied by that annoying female doctor, approaching. Each of them
carried some piece of clothing. First there were thong panties that were
too tight and pressed my confined genitals even more tightly against my
body. Then there was a flashy red mini-dress that barely reached the
tops of my thighs. If I bent forward my bottom would peek out. Then
came a big floppy sun hat that announced my presence like a glaring
rainbow spotlight. Finally, Twyla handed me a pair of glittery sandals
with two inch heels, saying that I had to start practicing now so I could
walk in them, the better to blend in at the resort.
I felt like he should be in some freaky Gay Pride parade. But before I
could say anything, I was being hustled out of the room and, with Twyla,
into Jason's office. From behind his desk, the executive grinned at my
altered appearance.
"Well, well," Jason said jovially. "What happened, Twyla? Where's that
husband of yours? He shouldn't leave a pretty lady like you out of his
sight."
I squeaked, "I'm right here and you know it." I sounded more defensive
than angry. "I need to get going. Our reservations are for tomorrow
morning."
"Well," Jason said affably, "you have to stay here for observation. And
then you can leave early, after breakfast. Your body will need plenty of
calories because you haven't stopped... expanding... yet." His eyes were
on my boobs, which had gone from modest to medium.
Surprised, I said, "But everything is big enough now."
Jason shrugged. "We can't stop the process before it has run its course.
But by the time you leave it should all be done. Mostly."
Twyla broke in, "They have a nice room for us right here, Bunny."
I looked at my wife and said, wishing my voice was more commanding,
"Don't call me that."
"But she needs to," Jason said. "Everyone does, Bunny. You have to get
used to it so that you'll be able to recognize it and respond naturally
for the next week. You know, while you're evaluating that possible
investment."
I glanced at my wife. Had she blabbed about my real motive? I couldn't
tell. I pulled back my shoulders, trying to make myself appear more in
control, but it just made my bust stick out further. I sighed and tugged
down on the hem of my too-short dress. Then I pulled upward on the
bodice because I saw that I was showing major cleavage. And what they
had done to my cock and balls was making me feel... unmanned. Twyla put
out her hand and I accepted it, feeling curiously dependent on her. She
thanked Jason, with a touch too much gratitude in her voice, and then led
me away.
Our room was in another wing of the building. On the way there, as I got
accustomed to the heels, we passed several people who, somehow, knew that
I had just had that changeover. They stopped us and asked questions,
which my wife was happy to answer, even though that meant I had to spend
more time being gawked at. We finally got to the room and she began to
unhurriedly get out of her clothes.
"Come on, Bunny," she said pleasantly, "get ready for bed. They told me
there would be some sleepwear for you in the dresser."
I went uncertainly and found that I was expected to spend the night in a
sleep camisole and matching bikini panties. When I didn't show any
enthusiasm for it, my wife reminded me that all this was a result of the
plan I had put together.
"Besides," she reminded me, "it will start paying dividends tomorrow.
I've been warming up to the idea of spending time at a naughty resort
where everyone has sex on their minds. And I know you're in a hurry to
see me in some kinky couplings or threesomes or whatever. Right?"
That brightened my thoughts. Sure I was stuck in that female form, but
it was only for the week. And I wouldn't be able to actually enjoy any
sex myself, but that was unavoidable. I started to feel much better.
Twyla showed me how to slip the satiny garment on over my head. It
teased my sensitive nipples as it slid down over my body. I put on the
panties myself. She told me I looked 'delicious' and that, if I was a
real girl, she'd be all over me. Those words set off my lust to watch
lezzies and I started to get hard. Or at least to try. It was
uncomfortable yet, with my male pride resurfacing, I didn't say anything.
She sat on the bed and patted a spot alongside her. I put myself there
and she lay back, wriggling over to the other half of the mattress. I
stretched out alongside her on my back, fascinated by how my new breasts
stood up firm and proud.
"Tomorrow is going to be incredible," she assured me. "I can't wait to
mingle with all those girls. I guess I was in denial about my old
college experiences. Maybe I'll find some little piece of fluff I can
boss around in bed. Or I'll act real innocent with some tall dominant
type and have to do whatever she says, no matter how dirty it is. And
you'll get to see it all."
Her soft hand drifted to my thigh and ran slowly up and down the hairless
length. She touched my pussy patch lightly, experimentally. What she
had said, followed by that physical contact, gave me an attempted raging
hard-on, which caused me plenty of pain. Even so, I had decided to not
show my discomfort and stubbornly kept my mouth shut. Twyla rolled
against me and nibbled on my ear before moving to my neck. I writhed
under her knowing technique and thought I was going to lose my mind and
start hollering. Instead, I kept myself together. She continued that
sweet torment for the next half hour.
Finally, as if the thought had just come to her -- and maybe belatedly
had -- she got up on one elbow and said, "Oh, Bunny. I just realized.
It might be..." She wriggled her hips to pantomime what I was feeling.
"...kind of difficult to hear me go on like that and to feel me touch
you, when you don't have room down there to get it up. I'm soooo sorry,
Bunny baby. Silly me, letting my lust take over like that."
And then, instead of avoiding anything that would keep me in that state,
she resumed, as if in an unbreakable trance, going on endlessly with
fantasies of what might happen to her once we got to our destination. I
ended up in agony, my balls pounding, but at least had the satisfaction
of making her think I was still in control, even if only of my own urges.
The next morning Jason gave me one more examination. His hands went
everywhere but I didn't complain. We were almost out of there. I got
into a canary yellow dress made of some stretchy material that clung
intimately to my curves -- which had met the prediction that they would
continue to mushroom while I slept -- and made it obvious that I had
nothing on under it. I slipped my feet into color-coordinated shoes with
two inch heels, which was still my limit. Twyla freshened up my face by
putting on some make-up over the long-lasting type that was already
there. Then that blond woman -- just having her near me was annoying --
arrived. She checked my hair and applied something to the extensions,
where they were attached to my natural growth. By then it was easy to
figure out that it was more adhesive, like what was holding that damnable
faux pubic triangle on. I asked about getting them removed when the time
came and they assured me that there was a special solvent that would do
that job easily. The blond, who I noticed the others referred to as
Anna, made a comment about that being the ONLY way to detach the
extensions, but I ignored it, eager to get going.
At last it was time to leave. I was given a sunhat which I settled on
top of my styled, extended hair. My wife went up to Jason and told him
she was glad she had gotten to see him again. They shared a hug that was
a bit too close and definitely overlong. I shook back my long locks in
annoyance but said nothing. Soon we were in our rented car and on our
way to the airport for the final leg of our journey. It was odd to have
Twyla driving because I saw that as a job for the man, but again I
reminded myself that it would all be worth it. We were on our way.
Everything was going to work perfectly.
*********
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