The Marriage Of Martin Hastings Chapter 1 Revised free porn video

WARNING: Fictionmania Readers: This story has elements of forced feminization, s/m, b/d, that forces a man to become the bride of another man. This all takes a place in the realm of fantasy and no where else. There are scenes of sexual activity the take place beginning in chapter 5. This story has been posted here before, but it is much revised now. Dark Tales of Forced Feminization Presents "The Martin Hastings Saga" "The Martin Hastings Saga" is a work of erotic fantasy/fiction in three distinct pieces and is not based on any beliefs/realities nor are any of the characters based on person's alive or dead. This story contains elements of b/d, s/m, forced femininity, and some explicit scenes of gay sexual activity, some non consensual in nature. The story is meant to be a piece of erotic literature for entertainment purposes only, about a straight man who is forced to become another man's crossdressed wife. Book One "The Marriage of Martin Hastings" Written by: Rikki Chapter One "A New Reality" Marriage has many different rituals, cultural influences and laws, based on faith, equality, and inequality attached to it that are unique to certain places around the world. Each one is taken very seriously by the citizens, and subjects of those lands. There is the traditional husband and wife marriage (a man and a woman), same sex marriages (two men or two women), then there are the arranged marriages (families that decide who the spouses will be), along with ceremonial customs, practices and traditions that are handed down through time for the celebration and consummation of these joyous occasions. But..........What "IF" these customs, all of these laws and these rituals were somehow all accepted practices in a single place, and socially accepted by the locals. What would that look like? It's not so much as where in the world such a situation could happen or exist, but maybe it is more a question of WHEN in the future that in an environment of sexual equality for all, has such an unintended consequence of marriage befall a very unfortunate few, creating a third tier citizen that loses their right to self determination, property, freedom of movement and lives their lives according to the best judgement and decisions made for them by their spouse. Meet Martin Hastings. His families wealth is unquestioned. He himself is inherently wealthy, and a jet setter, twice divorced, but always at a social event with a pretty face in tow. So how did he, of all people get caught up in this unbelievable situation in the first place? His story begins here................. The door opened slowly. Martin tried to pull away from the grip of the two men who assisted him one more time. He was pushed into the doorway and he stood there wearing a white knee length satin robe tied at the waist. A white towel was wrapped around the Martin's freshly shampooed hair and then tucked securely in back. His feet were in a pair of white satin open toed, women's house shoes revealing he had boldly polished red toenails. Polished toenails? The men steadied him as Martin was still unsteady from the sedative he had initially been given when he was forced to come here, and the second one after he arrived. Martin's hands were cuffed behind his back and hooked to a chain around his waist as his ankles were manacled together also with a length of chain to make walking possible though somewhat difficult. Martin literally could only shuffle his feet as they walked. Running was out of the question. Martin's fingernails had just been done and were expertly styled in an elegant length, tapered and polished the same bright red color as his toenails. He was confused in his foggy state. Things were coming back slowly, but he remembered that his toenails had been done by a very young girl named Tiffany who found her task of doing Martin's nails today very amusing. She had never done nails on a man's fingertips before, well at least not in a serious manner like this, where the man was actually going to be wearing them fashionably in public for a formal function. She didn't even seem to notice or care that he was sedated and secured in such a way that he couldn't interfere with here as she worked. Martin had also just been rather roughly bathed then strapped down and shaved from head to toe and though he had fought with and cursed the men while they were strapping him down, in his sedated state he was no challenge for them. He had felt so humiliated and violated by the woman, who he did not know, while she positioned his naked body on the table and then secured him with the restraints. She had him strapped down to a cold steel table with his legs raised and spread wide in birthing stirrups. He was unable to move as he felt the sharp edge of the razor being slowly dragged across the bottom of his lathered testicles as all the hair was removed. She worked as if she had every right to touch and handle his male genitalia in any manner she saw fit. She gripped him firmly as she moved his penis and balls out of the way, despite strong objections from him. He felt somehow uncoordinated and weak now. "Stop, why are you doing this," he mumbled sedated and dazed. He feared he had been kidnapped for ransom. "Just hush and let me get done here," she said firmly then looked up at him as she wiped the razor, "You don't want me to slip and accidentally cut your balls off prematurely." She smiled and went back to what she was doing. His mouth was then taped shut by one of the security to stop the whining of him, that was now starting to come from his lips. He couldn't turn his head away and the taped was applied in four strips pressed hard over his lips and cheeks. "There we go. All nice and clean," she said smiling and looking at the now bare skin that moments ago had manly pubic hair. The task of shaving his balls and pubic hair had been completed despite his vehement but helpless, muted objections. His legs, underarms and pubic hair all removed expertly by the razor. The rest of his body, neck to toe was now covered in a hair removal cream. Martin was left alone for a few minutes. The hair removal cream was now starting to tingle and become uncomfortable. The woman came back with a pink enema bag that was filled with warm soapy water and hung it on a pole next to the table. Martin squealed into his tape gag when the nozzle was eased into his tightened rectum and a small bulb was pumped to inflated the small bladder inside that prevented him from pushing it back out. She then turned the valve and the warm soapy contents of the bag began to flow and fill Martin's rectum. She then left him groggy on the table while the cream worked and he finished his enema. It was some twenty minutes later that Martin was pulled from the table and escorted outside. He couldn't stand all the way up because of the enema he was carrying inside him. Once he was placed in the proper spot, the bulb was deflated and Martin suffered the humiliation of squatting, not by choice and expelling the enema into a large bucket with a toilet seat on top. It was a humiliating way to do this. The male security team laughed at his half sedated half shocked look and dance to the cold stream of water being used to rinse the cream off of him and wake him up as he expelled the enema. He was cleaned up and readied for the next step. Martin's hair was then shampooed by the woman. She lathered not just his hair, but his entire head. Running her hands across his face forcing him to close his eyes tightly while she lathered his entire head and worked it for several minutes. Martin's hair was rinsed and he was now ready for the next step. The preparation room. As Martin stood in the door, he couldn't help but take note of the chair in the middle of the room. It was a styling chair used by hairdressers with chrome arms and base, and the cushions were all a vivid pink color. A very pretty chair. The back of the chair was heart shaped, and almost too Barbie Doll to be real, and much too pretty for a young man to sit in. But that's where the innocence of the chair ended. "Hello Martin, have a seat in the chair please," the woman said. This woman had a pleasant smile as she spoke. Martin pulled back against the grip of the two men that escorted him into the room. The chair was a mass of hanging black leather straps not much bigger than belts. "No!" Martin grunted as he tried to twist away. The straps hung silently, waiting for Martin to be seated. He would then be securely strapped to the chair and the straps could serve the function for which they were intended. Allowing this woman to do as she pleased with Martin without him being able to interfere or defend himself. The calm yet stern looking woman stood beside the chair with a pink cape over her arm, her hand resting on the back of the chair, as she patiently waited for Martin to be placed in the chair and be strapped down. "I hope this morning has not been too difficult for you so far? I see you are ready to proceed," she said stepping away from the chair as he was pushed closer. "I'm not ready to proceed with anything. What is going on here?" he said being pushed forward again by the men his feet sliding on the floor toward the chair. "Sorry Martin, ready or not it is time, so if you would please just have a seat in the chair here, I'll get you strapped in and we can get started," the woman said with a gesture of her hand. "What kind of chair is that? What's it for?" Martin said looking at the straps hanging from the chair. He resisted their efforts as he was forced almost next to it now. "Well, it's just a styling chair Martin. I'm just going to do your hair. Please have a seat so we can get started," she said pulling a cart with trays of many colors of hair curlers next to the chair. "It also has an attachment for the head if needed that will help settle you down. Let's not have to use that if we don't need to." "No!" Martin said as he desperately pushed back against the men who were now forcing him to turn backward to the chair so they could lift him and place him in it. Martin was not a big man, standing 5" 7" tall and was no match for these guys. "STOP IT," he screamed at them when they were able to handle him so easily. "Let me go!" He struggled with the two handlers, as the stylist stood prepared item she would need while waiting for him to be seated in the chair. Once strapped in she could begin a beauty process on him. A beauty process that would normally be reserved for and appreciated by almost any woman, but not men. Martin looked over his shoulder at the chair as he was forcibly turned with his back to the chair. They attempted to seat him in the chair once again only to have Martin kicked at the chair trying to push himself away. "NO!! LET GO OF ME YOU BASTARDS!!!" Martin hissed. Martin was exhausted now. The sedative he had been given had taken much of his energy away as did the high energy of the emotion he was expending. The men once again regained control of Martin. "Damn it...... STOP!! Don't put me in that chair," he yelled as he was lifted once again off the floor his feet kicking desperately, and he was seated firmly in the chair this time. He was secured to the chair immediately. The woman made sure his waist and chest were tightly strapped to the chair first, while his arms were being held by security. Martin looked down at the strap across his chest as his arms were strapped to the arms of the chair. The chain then removed from his waist. Martin looked to the woman now waiting to attend him. A large pink plastic cape over her arm once again as she continued to wait patiently for Martin as if he was just a woman client in for her Saturday afternoon hair appointment settling comfortably into the seat to have her hair set. She made eye contact with him but showed no emotions or sympathy at all for his ordeal. "WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME? WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?" he yelled again teary eyed. "It's going to be OK Martin. Please just try and relax," the woman said softly with a smile, gently patting him on the shoulder. "STOP IT!" Martin yelled out as his manacles on his ankles were taken off. His legs were spread wide to the side of the chair and each ankle fastened to the foot rest by a leather strap. A strap at the seat secured his legs just above the knees. Once they were done strapping him in the chair they all stepped back and observed as Martin jerked and twisted in his bonds testing the tightly secured straps, unable to get any movement at all. "Thank you gentleman. That should be good for now. I will call for you if I need further assistance." the woman said to the security men. They turned and left the room. "Please let me go," Martin's voice trailed off watching as the woman adjusted a final strap she felt wasn't tight enough. She pulled it tighter now securing Martin's body totally to the chair and sealing his fate. "Martin. Please get a hold of yourself," the woman said walking in front of the chair to face him. "First of all, you can stop with the request. I am not going to let you go. I have a lot of work to do, so please just try and compose yourself. I know this is difficult for you, but try and relax. Fighting and screaming, will not change a single thing that is about to happen to you," she said. "So take a deep breath, and I will get started." "I don't understand. Why was I kidnapped? Why are you doing this to me?" he pleaded and shook his head violently. "Martin," she said softly again trying to settle him down as he struggled against the chair restraints again in total frustration. "Let me go," he said as he twisted in vain against the straps again. "No, I will not let you go, but instead of fighting so much why don't just try to sit still and cry softly to yourself while I do what I have to do. The emotional release will allow you to let go of all that pent up inner frustration and anger you are feeling right now," she said getting her things together. "What? I'm not going to cry for you," he spat out. "Yes you will Martin. You men all cry eventually. Cry like little girls. It's nothing to be ashamed off though, it's just an emotional reaction to a frustrating situation you can't change. Are you comfortable?" the woman asked as she flung out the styling cape and wrapped around his neck. "No I'm not comfortable you stupid bitch. Do I look comfortable to you? I'm tied to a chair." Martin was coming out of the sedation now. She pumped the foot pump and the chair was now raised to a height that she could work on Martin's hair more easily. She looked in the mirror at Martin and smiled. She stepped up to the side of the chair addressing him in the mirror. "Martin, my name is Leanne, and I will be in charge of ...., a few changes that are going to be happening to you today," she said holding up her thumb and finger close together to indicate a small amount. "as well as preparing you for this special day," she said spinning the chair around two times very quickly and then stopping it suddenly just to show him she was in control. "What are you going to do to me?" he asked looking around the room then staring at her in the mirror now feeling more and more helpless to stop whatever plans she had for him. "Well the first thing I'm going to do is set your hair and get you under the dryer. So first, I need to put you in hair curlers young man. It won't take long for me to set your hair," she said taking the towel away from his head. "What? Why? No!" he said watching her prepare things. He watched stunned as she put curlers on the edge of the tray that she was going to use, use on him. They were 1 1/2" brush rollers. "Martin, to get a nice formal hairdo you have to have curls in your hair. The only way to get curls in your hair is with curlers," she said holding one up for him to see in the mirror. "Don't you put curlers in my hair," he said jerking his head about as she tried to comb his wet hair. "I'm not a fag," he growled. "Now now, Martin. Must not talk like that. There is nothing wrong with being a fag," she said. "You seem very upset right now. What's wrong?" she asked looking as if she cared about his answer. "What's wrong??? What is wrong??? Are you serious lady? I've been drugged and kidnapped and I'm being held against my will, and for what I don't know. Look at me, I've been violated and my balls were shaved by you guys. Look what you and your perverts did to me. You then painted my nails red," he said spreading his fingers so she could see the ten long red nails he was wearing. "You don't see anything wrong with this? Especially since I was saying NO!" he raged. "I'm sorry we weren't able to consult with you first Martin. It was agreed and we felt it might be a good idea to heavily sedate you at first when you were picked up or you would object to coming, and you were still in that sedated state when we had your nails done. Well, we did sedate you a little more when you arrived." she smiled. "It's not funny. Look at my fingernails and toenails. No man wants that." "Are you not happy with the color of the nail polish that I selected for you? I actually like that particular shade of red. I think your toenails are cute and fingernails look very pretty. Brittany did a beautiful job with your manicure and pedicure," she said as she went back to combing his hair. "Very elegant and sophisticated looking." "It's not the color of my nails you bimbo," Martin's aggravation growing, "It's the fact that I have long fingernails and my nails are painted. I don't want my nails painted. Men don't wear red nail polish in case you weren't unaware." "What color would you have preferred?" she asked looking at him. "Your toenails need to be red. That's the traditional color for toenails as far as I'm concerned. Most women wear red nailpolish on their toenails." "None, I don't want them any color at all." "Well if it's not the color of the nail polish we have nothing to discuss then do we. Your fingernails have been done and they are long and painted red because that's the way I requested them, and that's the way you will be wearing them today. I didn't know you had a preference and maybe next time we will use a color you desire," Leanne said while fixing his head straight forward so she could get started. "And by the way, I know for a fact some men do wear red nail polish." "Why are you doing this to me? What did I do to you?" he asked watching her applying setting lotion to his hair and combing it through. "Do to me? Oh Martin, you didn't do anything to me," she smiled at his statement, "I'm here to do something to you. You are getting married today and I'm here to get you ready for the ceremony." I'm not getting married. You have got the wrong man obviously." "You are Martin Hastings, right? Oh I believe we have the right young man all right." "Why am I being humiliated like this?" "Humiliated? Oh there's nothing humiliating about getting your hair set and styled Martin. Women have it done all the time. It should be an enjoyable experience for you," she said taking a roller from the tray. "I'm not a woman. Stop comparing to a woman," he snapped again in aggravation. "Being pampered and fussed over by women doing your hair and nails to make you look and feel pretty, while you sit back and just relax allowing them to work their magic on you. Any woman would be jealous of you right now." "Pretty? I'm not pretty, and I'm not any woman! Don't you dare put those things in my hair," he said looking at out of the corner of his eye at the curlers. Leanne laughed at the panic he was now demonstrating. "But I have to put you in curlers, it's the only way to curl your hair, and we do want lots of curls in your hair for this afternoon don't we?" she said now finishing the combing in of the setting gel. "No we don't. You can stop all this nonsense right now. I'm not doing this." "Oh yes you are. Now just relax while I curl your hair," she said as she pulled up a strand of hair and picked up a brush roller to begin Martin's hair set. He jerked his head and the strand fell free from her fingers. "Could I have a member of security in here please," Leanne called out staring at Martin with a slight smile. A tall broad shoulder woman in a skirted uniform stepped in. "We need a little attitude adjustment here please," Leanne said as she backed away and allowed the woman to step behind the chair. "Doesn't want to keep his head still while I curl his hair. I need the Tranquility Box attached." "What are you doing?" Martin said when he saw the black leather box that was brought in by the woman security. The heart shaped headrest was removed and the box placed on the chair and secured. "What is this," Martin looked about frantically. "Martin I need your cooperation. You are going to spend a little time here thinking about it and I will be back and we can begin setting your hair." Leanne opened the front of the box and pushed Martin's head inside. "What are you doing?" Martin said looking about. Leanne took a bulb in her hands and pumped it and the rubber bladder inside the box filled in around Martin's head. "That's it," she said gently while placing a mouthpiece with a hose in front of him. "No," he whined unable to move his head. "Yes," she said softly with a caring smile. "You will need this to breath easily." "What are you agghhhh..mppfff" he said as she forced the piece in his mouth. "Now, I am going to put this over your eyes," she said as she flipped down a leather blind fold. "And I'm going to close the door and lock it. I want you to sit here for a while and think about cooperating with me. We need to get this done." "MMMPPPFFF," Martin groaned as the door was closed on the box the bladder was pumped again pressing against Martin's face and filling the rest of the box, and then his groans could not be heard at all. Leanne opened his robe wide so his naked male self was exposed. Martin sat perfectly upright this way, with his head in the box unable to see or hear anything. Leanne continued to prep things in the room as she allowed time to pass and adequately Martin to cooperate. Martin pulled against his restraints and groaned for about ten minutes, then he was still for a while. After twenty minutes Leanne noticed his shoulders having a little jiggle to them. That meant Martin was crying in his isolated state inside the box. Leanne checked her watch. Martin's head had been tightly placed in the box for half an hour now. This was his first experience in the box. Leanne didn't like having to use the box, but when she did she made sure that first experience placed enough desire to cooperate as possible. She deflated the rubber bladder and then unlocked and opened the door. She flipped up the leather blindfold. Martin's eye's were red and welled with tears that were running down his cheeks. Leanne stood in front of him. She bent over and got close to his face. "Martin you realize that I have to do this today, and so do you. I don't expect you to accept it, but I will expect you to cooperate. OK?" she said with another soft smile. Martin shook his head in agreement. "OK, That's good. Now we don't want to have to do this again do we?" she said. "At least not today." Martin shook his head no. "That's good. Now, we will finish up your box time and then we need to get your hair set in curlers. OK?" Martin's eyes got big as she flipped the leather blindfold down again. "MMMPPPFFFF!!!!" Martin screamed out as she closed and locked the door and pumped the bladder again diminishing and then extinguishing Martin's groans. Martin once again sat in solitary unable to move for another twenty minutes in total silence and darkness not knowing when she would let him out. The box was opened again. She removed the blindfold and the gag. "Will you sit still and let me put your hair in curlers?" Leanne said looking at him in the box. "Yes," he said softly his lip trembling from sobbing. The woman security had a smile on her face as Martin met her gaze then lowered his eyes in shame. She stood by the wall to observe. "OK then let's get you out of this box, shampoo your hair and try again" After another shampoo Leanne dried her hands on a towel and combed Martin's hair out again. She put the first curler in Martin's naturally sandy blonde hair. He clenched his fist and pulled at his restraints as the second curler was rolled into his hair. Though he was sitting still for her, he still had so much pent up anger inside him. The brush type rollers Leanne was using reminded Martin of the curlers his grandmother and aunts used to wear in their hair in the evenings around the house and then to bed. His aunt always wore curlers in her hair to the grocery store draped by large flowered head scarves, as if the scarf made for a better appearance while in public than being seen with curlers and the pink pins twisted in their hair on their heads. It was was just too humiliating for Martin to see himself now being forced into wearing the same curler look on his head as they did. "Please stop doing this, I can't deal with this," Martin said softly in a high pitched tone regaining some of his composure. "Try and relax. You're doing just fine Martin. I will have your hair set in curlers momentarily. Just be patient, then I will get you under the hair dryer," Leanne said. "Men don't do this," he sobbed again. "Well your getting your hair set aren't you? I thought you said you were a man," she said as she worked. "I'm being forced I don't want my hair put in curlers," he said through red eyes. "Well that's normal Martin. Most women don't like wearing curlers in their hair either. It's just a process that is needed to a hair style." "Stop tormenting me. I'm a man not a woman damn it," he sobbed as the curlers kept being rolled in his hair one after the other at a swift steady pace. "I don't care what most women like or dislike. I'm not one of them, stop grouping me with women." "I know you're a man. It's obvious Martin. I never said you weren't a man, but I am going to curl your hair anyway, and style it in a very nice elegant up do like a young lady would normally wear to a formal event, and I will do it knowing the entire time you are a man. Like I said earlier it would be best if you could just sit here and keep crying softly to yourself about your frustrations. Get it out of your system hon." "Then why? This is disgusting," he said and then watched as his head filled with hair curlers. "If you know I'm a man, then why are you treating me like I'm a woman? I don't like this, and I'm not going to cry for your amusement." "I'm not treating you like a woman Martin. You are getting married today. Your hair needs to be done first. Your hair will be a feminine style when I'm done I assure you, but that doesn't mean I'm treating you like a woman. You are a man, you are just going to wear your hair a little less manly than the next guy would let's say at his wedding. I promise you your hair will be very appropriate for the ceremony and you will be proud of the way it looks, and all the onlookers will be impressed," Leanne smiled and stopped for a moment. "You're not treating me like a woman? Curlers? Nails painted? Making me do this is not perverted in your eyes?" Martin looked at his head now filled with brush curlers in the mirror. Once again tears ran down his face. "I know you haven't been filled in on any of the details of your marriage yet. I didn't want to tell you till we had you dressed and ready to walk out," Leanne said laying down the comb, turning the chair and giving Martin her full attention now. "How can I be getting married? I am not even in a relationship right now." Martin voice was whiny. "You have been placed in an arranged marriage Martin. That's why the family of your new spouse had the right to sedate and abduct you and bring you here when they did." "Arranged marriage?" he thought for a moment, "No," he said softly. "That's crazy. I know nothing about it." Leanne dried his eyes. "It is not unusual for you not to know anything in an arranged marriage Martin. The families always seem to wait till the very last minute to inform the soon to be spouse, at least the one who might be inclined to panic and try to run away at the idea of having the decision of marriage being made for them and then being forced to honor that family decision. That's why I have this chair. Less time to think about it and fret over the small things and the inevitable." "What things? Like being forced to marry to a complete stranger? Hell yeah I'm upset. Who wouldn't be upset. What if I don't like this woman? Ever think of that? I'm not going to marry some fat or ugly bitch. What does she look like, and why couldn't she get a husband on her own? Is she a closet Lesbian or something? Is that why this girl stuff is being done to me? WHAT IS GOING ON HERE!" "Woman? Oh no, no Martin. You will not be marrying a woman. You are being married to another man. That's why you are being dressed as a bride today. Actually you are going to be the new male bride of Baron Vargos." "Male bride?" Martin was stunned at her statement. "That's right Martin," she said with wide eyes. "I'm going to do your hair up with curls and bows galore. I will get your face made up pretty. That will include false eyelashes and lipstick by the way. Then you'll be dressed in your wedding dress and a pair of high heels. You'll be just like one of the girl brides" "HELL NO! You think I'm going to just sit here and let you dress me up like a woman and force me to marry a man?" Martin jerked against his restraints again, throwing his head back and forth. "Yes, I do actually," she said now returning to behind the chair. "These straps you are wearing will see to that. That's why you are strapped in the chair and I have security to help me if needed." "Is that what this is all about? I absolutely refuse to marry anybody especially a man," he said as he watched her netting his hair.. His frustrations grew from the fact he couldn't move and the fact she just kept doing as she pleased with him and he couldn't stop them. "Martin look, the Baron is a very fine catch. Do you realize how many women have been vying for his attentions for over a year now?" she said grinning. "And now you have captured his heart, and you two are going to be married this afternoon." "NO! That can't be. Listen Leanne, I'M NOT GAY!" he yelled out once again on the edge of tears. "You can't do this to me without my consent, and I say no way. I will not consent to this marriage." "Your consent Martin? Your consent was given by your family. That's all that was needed. It's an arranged marriage. This has been arranged by the two families. It is a perfectly legal, though I grant you it is a bit unusual for a man or even a woman of your age to be having a marriage arranged for them. Men are not usually placed in these type marriages, especially with another man. But it has happened before." "My family would never have agreed to this type of thing. Arranged marriages are for women, men don't get placed in arranged marriages. You're lying." "Well that's a bit sexist isn't it Martin? Arranged marriages are good for the girls but not the guys? I'm afraid you are wrong, equal rights you know. You will be wed today in a same sex ceremony Martin. These arranged marriages are not very common I grant you, especially same sex marriages which are very rare indeed, but they are as legal as any other marriage." "But I am not a woman." He seemed confused and on the verge of tears now. "Oh, I know you're not a woman. That's why it's a same sex marriage. We are not trying to make you feel like a woman here, but we are preparing and dressing you as a bride, which is what you are today. Men can be brides too Martin and you get to be one today." "You're crazy lady. I can't do this. I don't want to be dressed like a girl." Martin couldn't help but start crying again. "Please try and understand, it's not up to you any more. You have no say in this at all. Having you dressed in women's clothes and being powdered, painted and perfumed like a woman is your husband's request and desire, and that's why we are doing this." "I don't care what he wants. I'm the one being violated and humiliated here. What about my feelings? I've never met this man. What gives him the right to degrade my masculinity like this?" Tears again ran down Martin's face. "He is to be your husband, and that gives him every right I'm afraid. Please Martin you are over reacting." "OVER REACTING? Look at me. I didn't consent to being made to look like a fool." "Once you and the Baron are married and you have exchanged vows, your husband will be the one who makes these decisions for you from now on. The unfortunate thing about some arranged marriages is that often the bride not only marries an unwanted husband but, it is also decided she should lose her right to self determination and self expression." "No, this is insane." he said lowering his curler filled head. "I'm sorry Martin, but you have lost your rights to self determination and self expression with this marriage. You will dress and appear according to your husbands wishes. Which he has decided will be you appearing as a woman all the time. He will also control all your financial and private affairs for you. He will also have the right to discipline or have you disciplined when he feels needed." "What? I'm not a child," Martin said desperately. "No you're not, but you're the Baron's wife, and subject to his authority and discipline methods. It was all agreed on by the families. You will have to persuade your husband to change his mind if you don't want to wear women's dresses any more. I'm just doing as I'm instructed. In the mean time though, you will be dressed as a bride and wear a beautiful wedding dress today for the ceremony. I will have it brought in on a dress stand and have it placed in front of you so you can admire it while you are under the dryer," she said. "Don't force me to do this Leanne. For god's sake I'm not a fag. Get someone else, I'm sure there are plenty of young male perverts out there that are just like you guys that would love to do this, but I'm not one of them. Pick someone else." Martin was now sobbing with his head hung low. "The Baron picked you. He negotiated with your family, they apparently came to an agreement, and as a result you will become his legally wedded wife this afternoon. Nothing you say now can change that and nothing you do will prevent it from happening." Leanne said nothing else but looked at Martin in the mirror as she unsnapped the cape and removed it. Martin noticed a grin that broke out on the face of the female attendant who was standing next to the wall watching. "What are you smiling at bitch? Enjoying the view you pervert? Something turning you on here? Need to go rub your pussy against some guys leg for awhile?" he sneered at her. She never changed her expression and continued to watch. Leanne brought the hair dryer and pulled the elastic band around Martin's curlers so the soft bonnet with the bright blue floral designs covered his head. There was a three foot length of hose that hooked to the main unit. Leanne switched it on high heat and adjusted the bonnet slightly. The bonnet inflated into a nice mushroom shape on his head, and there Martin sat humiliated with his hair in curlers now being dried under a hair dryer. Leanne smiled as she dismissed the security. "That will be all for now. Thank you. We'll be fine while his hair is drying." She then directed her attention to Martin. "I'll be right back," Leanne said turning to leave. "Leanne, please listen to me I'm not gay," he said now lifting his head tears running down his face. "I know Martin, but it doesn't really matter," she said leaving the room. Even though Leanne had told Martin what was happening to him and why it was happening, he couldn't comprehend it. He knew about arranged marriages though they weren't legal where he was from. They were not common even here, but then not considered controversial in any way either. It was an accepted custom and was still law. Martin knew young women were sometimes placed in marriages that the families had arranged for them. Most of the time bettering the woman's social standing along with her families. The young women weren't always happy about it, and some even resisted or refused to go along after finding out they had been betrothed by their family to a man of their choosing. All these women were married just the same, it is said some were even crying and pleading with their families to stop the wedding with hands bound behind their backs as the ceremony proceeded and sealed their fates to their new spouses, but Martin had figured that these women all adjusted with time to their new social and private lives with their husbands. After all they were being married to men. He had never heard of a man being forced into such a marriage with a woman nor had he ever heard of someone being forced into a gay arranged marriage situation. Especially when one of the people wasn't even gay in nature. It just didn't make sense to him. "This is crazy!!" he yelled out now crying a steady stream of tears. The door opened and Leanne and another young girl about 18 years old entered pushing a dress makers stand that was fitted with a beautiful white wedding dress. It had an extension above the dress that held the veil. The dress was knee length with tiers of horizontal lace and ruffles about the skirt. The top of the dress was strapless, leaving the bride with elegantly bared shoulders. The bodice was beaded with many rows of white beads and bows. It was wheeled in and placed directly in front of Martin. The young girl unable to control a sudden burst of laughter at seeing this crying man sitting strapped in the chair with his nails painted red and hair rollers under the dryer. She covered her mouth with her hand as she continued to laugh and looked away. It would have been considered rude to laugh at Martin without covering ones mouth. Laughter was frowned upon, but the Baron had made exceptions in this case as long as the person covered their mouth. It had to be made because a man dressing as a woman to be married to another man was so uncommon, it did instill different spontaneous reactions in people. Especially the women. "Take it out of here. I'm not dressing up in that," he hissed as he looked at it through his tears. "Oh yes you are Martin. This is your wedding dress. Isn't it just beautiful?" Leanne said walking in the door as the girl giggled even more knowing that this guy was going to be dressed fully as a woman here in just a short while. It didn't seem to bother her at all that he was strapped in the chair and arguing against the marriage. "No please, take it away, I don't want to look at it," he said looking at Leanne now his face grimaced in emotional distress and tears. "You will look at it and you will wear it. I'll be back in a little bit and check to see if your hair is dry. I'll give you some time alone with your thoughts. See the crying does helps." "Please, I'm not gay," he shouted at the closed door now. He looked at the dress his fingers gripping the chair arms tightly. His eyelids dropped as he looked at his red painted toenails. "They can't make me be gay, they just can't." He looked around the room then at the dress. "Oh my god, I don't want to do this," he said softly now to nobody tugging futilely at his restraints again. "I don't want to be the bride." Martin sat quietly crying resigned now to the fact he couldn't get out of the chair. He hung his head now as he waited for the dryer to dry his hair so Leanne could create feminine curls and build a beautiful bride's up do to his once masculine hair. "Somebody please let me go!" Martin said softly one last time into the empty room. The door opened slowly and a pretty young woman looked inside. "Missy?" he said. "What the hell are you doing here?" he asked as he fidgeted in the chair trying to cover himself in some way from his embarrassing situation, but unable too move. His legs were strapped to the chair his knees spread apart. "Martin?" "Get me loose Missy." "Hi Martin. I heard you call out. Are you OK?" She had a huge grin on her face as she looked him over for the first time since they had started processing him for the wedding. "Just checking in to see how you were doing," she then giggled looking down at his toenails. He tried to curl his toes under so she couldn't see his toenails had been painted red but it was useless. She saw them with no problem. "Oh my," she said with a giggle at his apparent discomfort. "I should have known. You're part of this aren't you. Is this some kind of practical joke, because it's not funny. I'm not a bride and you know it. Let me go Missy," he said as he jerked hard against the restraints one more time in frustration. Missy walked about the room. She was a "socialite deluxe" you might say, but Martin saw her as the phony and the gold digger she really was. A social status climber looking for a life of luxury and wealth using her looks and sex appeal to achieve both of those goals. Missy had always wore her hair and up high on her head, pulled tightly up off her neck and ears, and teased and sprayed big in curls and it was kept platinum blonde at all times. Not a single hair was ever out of place on this woman. It was a lacquered look. Today she had let her hair down and she was even more sexy than ever. She always seemed as if she had just stepped out of a beauty salon in the 70's and she was always attractively made up, though he felt the false eyelashes she wore and bright red lipsticks were a little much in public for a girl her age. Today Missy was wearing designer jeans and red 5" spike heels. She wore a white peasant blouse that was unbuttoned low to reveal her ample, "store bought" cleavage. Her nails were beautifully manicured a bright, bright red and were rather long. Martin didn't find nails that long very attractive on women. It was a gaudy look in his opinion, someone just try to attract attention, and he wondered how she could even think that they looked attractive at all. She looked around as she strutted her way into the room smiling. Then she casually walked over to Martin. She bent over and began to loosen the tie around his waist on the satin robe he was wearing. "What are you doing Missy?" Martin said. He panicked when she opened the robe revealing his naked shaved body. She lay the robe open and ran her fingers up his inner thigh and stopping just short of his balls. Martin jumped as she lifted his penis with two fingers. "Stop it Missy," he snarled at her. "Stop touching me and cover me up." She smiled as she inspected the shave job done on his pubic hair. She ran her fingers over the newly shaved area above his penis and then his balls. "What's this Martin? New clean look for you isn't it, or have you been secretly shaving your balls for years and not telling me about it?" she giggled. "Stop doing that damn it." "Nice close shave Martin. Very smooth, and very appropriate I guess." She gave his penis a quick observation, "I didn't know you weren't circumcised Martin. Had I known earlier we would of had it done. I would have insisted," she said giving it a quick shake and lay the large but limp phallus over on his leg. "What do you want?" he snarled at her, "and cover me up." Martin hated Missy with such a passion, and with good cause. Missy was Martin's stepmother. She was also two years younger than him. Martin had just turned twenty seven and Missy was now twenty five years old. Hell, they had gone to the same high school together and even shared a class at one point. She was twenty years old when she had married his father, who was a shipping tycoon, and she moved into Martin's life. She had always carried herself as if she was someone of social significance, but she wasn't. Even talking to Martin and treating him as if he was really her son and his father didn't seem to have a problem with that. Martin never would participate in her little social games and detested her for her arrogance. He also held her responsible for his two marriages failing. He had always felt she was the one who talked his dad into forcing him into the annulments of his previous two marriages, but they were both recorded as divorces so the women could receive alimony payments. Martin was very conscious of being naked now that she had opened his robe. He was both irritated and humiliated at the grin on her face. "What is her part in all this?" his mind thought. He had never been naked in Missy's presence before, much less with the added humiliation of having his body shaved and his nails polished red and his hair in curlers. He felt extremely embarrassed having to sit strapped in this chair helpless like this in front of her and she was not offering to help release him. She grinned, then giggled as she admired him and said, "Pretty toenails Martin. Nice color of nail polish," she said looking down at his feet having to keep her smile from breaking into a grin. "You know, I've always said you were a real man's man, and now it looks like you're actually going to be a man's man." She giggled as she walked over to the wedding dress that was on the stand. "What's going on here Missy?" he hissed. "Why am I really here? What are you up to now? I don't buy this marriage crap. You'd better not be filming this as some prank of yours. I will not say I agree to this just so you and your friends can laugh watching video of me saying I was willing to marry a man. Forget it. Come over here and undo these straps. Let me go. The joke is over." "Martin.....sweetie, I am here for the wedding. I was contacted and asked if I'd fly here and give away the bride on your dads behalf, God rest his soul," she said as she lifted the skirt of the wedding dress and admired it. "I'm not a bride damn it. Stop saying that." He now could see her pushing him to admit something. "This is such a beautiful dress Martin, I mean it really is stunning honey," she smiled and turned to look at him. "I can't believe you're going to actually be wearing this dress down the aisle today in front of a church full of people," she looked back at him and then giggled at the thought. "I'm so jealous, I would have loved to wear a dress like this on my wedding day, but I had a rather progressive wedding ceremony. I was married nude." "I'm not wearing it," he said breathing heavy now and feeling warm because of the dryer. "Oh Martin stop it, sure you are wearing it and I'm sure the dress will look just lovely on you sweetheart, I'll be so proud of you," she laughed as she turned to face him again. Missy picked up one of the 6" white high heels that was sitting next to the dress on the floor. She held it up and turned to face Martin. "Oh my sweetie. Look at these Fuck Me pumps. I can't wait to see how gracefully you manage these down the aisle." She looked at the shoe again. "I'm not wearing the dress Missy. I am not going to let them humiliate me by dressing me up like a woman, and parade me down the aisle to be laughed at for some make believe wedding. This wedding thing is all bullshit. I'm done with this. Get me out of here. Unstrap me damn it," he growled. "Let my arms loose." Missy admired her nails as if bored by all his complaining. Taking some advantage of the situation at hand, and having to always put up with Martin's crap in the past, she was tired of him disrespecting her and trying to tell her what she should do. He should respect her wishes since she was his stepmother after all and he was the stepson. "Martin honey, how many times have I asked you to call me mother? Hmmm?" She lifted her eyes to look at him, with a look that indicated she was in the driver seat of this conversation now. "Are you serious? You're not my mother, for Christ sake your two years younger than me. Why would I call you mother?" he spat out trying to twist himself in the chair now to somehow get free. "I'll call you a bitch if you like." "Call me mother. I used to like that Martin. I would like it again very much. It would give our mother/son relationship much more warmth and meaning to me," she ran her finger across his cheek. "Your father agreed with me on this you know. He felt you should address me as your mother also. He told you so himself. Made you do it for a while too." "WHAT? My dad suggested to me once that you would like to be called mother. I said hell no." "But you did for a while and it was wonderful." She said softly. "No....that was before I moved out and it was to appease my father at the time. And you and I don't have a relationship Missy. None at all. You are a crazy messed up bitch!" His anger and frustration pouring out of him now. "Sweetheart, mommy loves you," she said turning away with a giggle now. "What are you getting out of all this? Is this all about degrading me? Saying I'm to marry a man, having me call you mother, and then trying to dress me like a girl? Your filming this aren't you. Wanting me to agree with this and humiliate myself so you can catch it on film and use it to humiliate me with your bimbo friends. Wait till I get out of here you bitch." "Well........" Missy said with a deep sigh leaning over to close Martin's robe, "I can see you are just way too emotional right now for us to have a little mother, son talk. Would you like your robe open or closed?" she asked looking at him and smiling at her control. "Closed," he snapped at her. "OK," she said as she opened the robe and left Martin's penis and shaved pubes exposed. "I was hoping my son would agree with me. I'd do anything for my son you know. I imagine preparing for your wedding day and all, you are very preoccupied right now in anticipation of it all. I'll come back in a little bit. I'll give you a few minutes to settle down honey. Maybe after they have put the dress on you we can have that mother/son talk." She walked out the door, her ass making those jeans work for her. "Wait! Missy........cover me up," Martin called to her but she didn't turn around. "MISSY!" Martin was stunned. Had she gone mad too? Did she seriously think this was all real? She was involved and he knew it. He was so angry she had caught him in such a compromised way. Naked and defenseless, not to mention he was wearing red nail polish. He felt like she had just appraised his situation, checked him over real good, gave it some thought, given her approval and just left him there. Martin's thoughts were interrupted suddenly. "How you doing hon? Hanging in there ok?" A middle aged woman walked in. "What are you going to do to me?" Martin asked watching her move things around. "Leanne is running a little late so I'm going to check your hair to see if you're dry yet." She glanced down and saw his penis. She looked away quickly concentrating her gaze on the task at hand ignoring Martin's exposed male genital. "Excuse me,...I....First of all, could you please cover me with something? I feel very uncomfortable sitting here like this. I'm naked for Christ sake." Martin was surprised at the woman's level of indifference to his exposed body as she ignored him. "Just relax hon while I get this bonnet off your head," she said stretching the elastic band and pulling it over the curlers. She let him sit for a moment as she put the bonnet down. She put her palms on curlers and held them firmly for a moment. "What the hell is going on here? This can't be happening to me," he said softly and turning his head again. "Please hold still sir," she said turning his head back so she could continue checking his hair. She took the roller at the top front of his head and unrolled it allowing the hair to spring back into place. She then removed another roller at the the bottom back of his head and allowed it to also coil itself back. She took a spray bottle with a light setting lotion in it and gently misted his entire head again. "What the hell are you doing," Martin complained as his head was moved all around as she misted his hair. She then put the front roller back in his hair and did the back one next. Martin pulled his head away as she got ready to put the dryer back on his head. "Hey," he winced as she firmly pulled his head back gripping the rollers. "Will you stop that. I don't need my hair rolled," he looked back at her. "Look I don't want my hair curled, so stop what you're doing. I want to get out of here. Get somebody in here to let me go." "That's enough hon. You can take your issues up with someone else. I'm here to make your hair is drying properly and the curls are firmly set. You need a little more time under the dryer so just hold still while I get this dryer bonnet back on your head." Martin sat quietly, fuming with frustration, as his entire head had been set in tight straight rows of brush rollers like some older woman in for her weekly shampoo and set at the local beauty salon. She patted the rollers with her palms. Straight rows of pink pins were the first thing Martin noticed when he saw himself in the mirror. His hair all pulled up tight on curlers. "I look like some kind of faggot," he said to himself looking at his image in the mirror. "OK hon hold it right there." She then slipped the hood back over his head and turned the dryer back on high. The dryer bonnet puffed up again. "There you go young man. It won't take much longer." "Oh thank you so much. I can't wait," Martin said in a mocking falsetto voice at her. "Your welcome sir," she said patting his shoulder as if he was being genuine and leaving the room. "Bitch," Martin said under his breath as she closed the door. The sound of the dryer drown out most of Martin's hearing. After about ten minutes he didn't hear her enter, but he recognized those red high heels that approached the chair. Missy was back. Missy sat in a chair next to Martin. "Missy, Please, what is this all about? Is this some kind of wild 'got cha' thing? If it is please stop it now. Get me out of here," he said trying to convince her to help him, and trying to convince himself now that this was and elaborate charade being played on him. She crossed her legs slowly. "Martin, honey please, call me mother or mommy. I can't do anything right now to change this," she said reaching for his robe. "There...That's better." she said pulling his robe over his penis to help calm him. "Besides Martin, I understand you will be married soon, why are you so eager to get out of this room. The groom is not suppose to see you before the ceremony anyway," she spoke as a matter of fact. "Don't you know anything about marriage traditions?" "Who is this guy Missy? There just can't be a wedding like this, it isn't possible. There just can't be." He shook his head still in disbelief, still feeling he was being watched. "Men just can't be forced to marry other men." "You will see him at the ceremony sweetheart. When he lifts your veil," she said seductively taking his chin in both of her hands and gently kissing him on the lips, "and kisses you on the lips like that, you will be able to see him all you like," she smiled rubbing his inner thigh to calm and comfort him. "Damn it Missy, stop talking like that. I'm not gay, and you know it. Tell them that." "I know you're not gay Martin. They know also, that's why you are tied up. You're as straight a man as I've ever known," she said softly, rubbing higher on his thigh. "You love the touch of a woman, don't you," she said sliding her hand further up his thigh. "If you say this is not a joke, then why is this all happening to me? Why doesn't he find some other gay man who would like all this done to them? Why me?" he hissed. "I guess there is no law that says you have to be a gay man to get married to another man. It's not a requirement." She chuckled slightly with her eyes down. "You'll get used to the lifestyle after awhile I suppose. I figure it will take longer for you to get accustomed to people staring at you dressed in women's clothes in public than it will the actual sexual aspects of the marriage. At least that will be kept private in your bedroom," she said looking down at his red toenails again. "Sex?....What do you mean sex..." He shook his head. The image of him being taken now crossed his mind. "Missy, Oh no. I'm not doing that. You expect me to have sex with this guy? I'm a guy and I like girls," he spat out. "Guys do have sex with other guys all the time Martin," she said calmly. "I know you like girls, I guess that is going to be a little bit of a touchy situation for you in he future." "Not me...no way I'm allowing that man or any man to have sex with me," he hissed giving some resistance to Missy. "They can't just put a dress on me call me his wife and expect me to allow him to screw me!" "Martin, honey yes they can, and that's what they are going to do... I'm sorry but you must settle down and listen to me now." She adjusted herself and faced him seriously. "This is not some kind of joke. It's all very real honey." She took his hand in hers and rubbed the length of his long red fingernails as she looked at them and continued, "Once the wedding ceremony is over, you will be a legally married couple in the eyes of the law, and this man will be your lawfully wedded husband. Baby he is going to want to have sex with his new spouse Martin, and I'm afraid that spouse is going to be you." She lowered her eyes before proceeding, "It will be his right as your husband to have sex with you. You will consummate the marriage in the traditional manner, and as of the wedding vows, he will be free to exercise those rights and you will be participating with him dressed in some kind of sexy women's lingerie I would assume............. and, well I'm told, you will start living life as a man who likes to dress as a woman. I know it's all confusing and all of a sudden honey. Do you understand what I'm saying?" she said in a sympathetic voice. Tears ran down Martin's face for the first time. Tears of frustration. "Missy.... "Mommy honey, call me mommy," she interrupted. "Or mommy." "I'm not calling you that. You're not my mother Missy. You're my stepmother, only by law," he said with anger. "Call me mommy Martin, I would appreciate that very much. I would be much more willing to help my son if there was anything I could do," she said with a knowing look. Martin stared at the floor. "Mommy....do something about this? Are they really going to let them go through with this?" he asked her as she lifted his chin again. "I'm afraid so Martin. It's not up to me, I can't stop the wedding. The fact you're restrained as you are tells me they are very serious. I can be there when they dress you for your wedding. They would like me to be there for pictures. I understand it's traditional for the mother of the bride and the bridesmaids to all witness the dressing of the bride, male or female. After that I'll only be able to see you occasionally," she said quietly. "I'm sorry Mis....mommy, I can't get a grasp on this. I can't believe it's real. It's all so surreal," he said shaking his head. "I'm sorry Martin, but it's real honey." "Please undo my wrist so I can get out of here," he said turning to her. She ran her nails gently down his back and touched the straps that held him to the chair. "Please mother, undo the straps. Let me take my chances." He watched as she touched the buckles on his wrist tugged gently at the end of the leather strap sticking out the end of the buckle. She pulled it out and all she had to do was open the buckle. She placed both hands on the buckle as if she were about to unbuckle his wrist, then she slowly patted his hand put the strap back in and removed her hands. "I'm sorry Martin. It would not work right now. Even if I did unbuckle all the straps for you and let you out of that chair," she said softly. "They would just bring you back honey." In walked Leanne. She was accompanied by the two attendants. "It's time to start preparing the bride," Leanne said walking into the room. "Stop, please stop this," he said as his head was bent forward by Leanne. Missy stood to leave the room. "Miss........Mommy. Don't leave me here like this," he called to her as she walked out the room. "Don't let them do this to me. Help me." "She can't do that Martin. We are going to do your hair and makeup now," Leanne said removing the dryer then taking out one of his rollers and letting the hair coil itself back to his head. "YOU CAN'T MAKE ME GET MARRIED!!! I won't do it," he yelled at Leanne. "Now, Martin." Leanne stopped what she was doing to address Martin, "You will listen. I do have some prior experience in this. I have done other arranged gay weddings for men like this before." "But I'm not gay!" Martin whined sounding a bit hopeless now. "That's enough of the you're not gay. Your family has agreed to this marriage and this type of marriage for you. They all knew it was a gay marriage. They signed affidavits to that effect. It is the equal rights aspect of the law Martin, not the gay aspect that binds you here. If it is lawful for a female to be placed in a marriage with a man, then it has to be legal for a male to be placed in a marriage with a man. This is an arranged marriage Martin. Your family has agreed to this marriage and this type of marriage. They purposely placed you in a gay marriage. That part is done, so it does not matter if you are gay or not, you are being married to this man." "But I don't want to marry him." "Three other men I have worked with were just as adamant as you about not getting married to their new husbands. This chair was designed for these type situations. All three of those men were strapped in this very same chair you are in right now." Leanne looked at Martin firmly and then softened her look. "But I don't want to marry a man." "Listen Martin, I know it's a bit scary having such a sudden and drastic change in your life, but you're going to be just fine." "No I'm not." "One of the male brides I did has been married for two years and the other four years. One was just recently widowed. Each one of them was a beautiful bride. They all consummated their marriages, receiving their husband's semen on the wedding night. Some were less willing than others, but fact is they all did it. "Three each live their daily lives dressing as women, and are publicly accepted for what they are, which is "feminized men." I have heard rumors that one of them is being required to have a sex change." "What?" They can make a man change his sex?" "Your husband can, but that would require a rework of the marital contract as it wouldn't be a same sex marriage any more." "What does that poor guy think of having a sex change?" Martin asked with a shocked look. "Well, does it matter?.......Look, I seriously doubt the public will ever think you are really a woman. That is not my intent, as you are not a woman, nor do we ever wish you to be mistaken for a woman. Passing totally as a woman in public probably won't ever happen for you, but you will be in a same sex, gay marriage, which will make your feminine appearance at least somewhat socially acceptable to most people." "Oh my god, I can't live like that," he said shaking his head. "You will take The Baron's last name the same as any bride would and be referred to as his Mrs. and then later receive the title Lady Vargos after the consummation period of your marriage is over. That will take three days and then you will be presented to the public. Now