Ladyboys Moving to Thailand and my first Ladyboy
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The Lady Returns free porn video
I was both surprised and relieved to receive Lady Varnham's invitation
for tea.
The last time I'd seen her had been months ago, at a temple deep in the
African bush, well beyond civilization. My memory of the expedition was a
pile of warped puzzle pieces, a confusing jumble that wouldn't quite fit
together. The only details of which I was certain was that three other
friends and I had escaped a nebulous but certain doom, abandoning the
poor Lady Varnham in the process, and spending days stumbling through
fetid overgrowth before finding our encampment. It is only there that my
recollections crystallize, and I clearly remember the argument that broke
out the first night after our return.
"Tomorrow morning, we shall resupply and return with more men at our
back," Julian, always the hero, had said. He looked the part, with
piercing blue eyes, curly chestnut hair and a stony chin to match his
determination. "Even if we find naught but her body, a proper burial is
the least we can offer the good lady."
"Don't be a fool. I was against bringing her in the first place, and I
won't risk my life now," Frederick had said, his pinched features
scrunched up further in a portrait of disgust. It was curious, certainly,
that I'd never considered the oddity of bringing a woman to such
dangerous climes, but she'd joined us on several adventures prior. That
said, Frederick had never cared for the woman. "She's likely the reason
we were nearly killed by whatever happened back there. No sense letting
her drag us back in."
My third friend, Archibald, was silent as he stared at the ground,
wrapped in a blanket. On matters social the big man was almost unbearably
chatty, a roaring mountain of good humor, but when times grew serious he
became smaller and tighter than an oyster. He never took charge except in
tales of our exploits, when his words transformed him into grand hero. To
Lord Archibald Penning our expeditions cost a pittance, so we let him
play leader without comment, even if he was useless in the field. Oddly,
I couldn't remember Lady Varnham ever offering to fund our adventures,
even though she was also of the peerage and nearly as wealthy.
"Since this expedition was your idea, why don't you stop staring at
Archibald and help us decide, Harry?" Frederick said to me with a cruel
smirk. "If our dear lady was killed, the blood is on your hands."
He was not wrong. While we were all members of the Gilded Explorer's
Society, this particular expedition had been my vision. The lads were
content hunting elephants or exploring half-mapped territory, but I'd
learned of an ancient ruin deep in the wilderness, and I wanted a taste
of real glory, of new knowledge and mysterious artifacts secured. Instead
all we found was a headful of confusion and the specter of death.
Stricken with guilt, I was prepared to go back and retrieve her, but when
I opened my mouth I said, "Janice knew the risks when she joined us. She
is capable as any woman, and her fate is in her own hands. The best we
can do is return to London and pray."
I expected a complaint from Jules, a satisfied quip about my cowardice
from Frederick, or anything at all from Archibald, but all three simply
nodded, and we started the long journey home the next day. Shortly after
our arrival we learned of Lady Varnham's own return, but joy at the new
of her survival was crushed by the shame of so readily abandoning one of
my closest friends.
My conscience was only somewhat absolved as Lady Varnham's butler brought
me to her parlor, intensified by the radiance of her presence and the
knowledge of what I'd almost snuffed out. Janice was a tiger of a woman,
with a statuesque figure and a stunning intellect that towered over most
men's. Her hair was long and more white than blonde and braided in a
style that seemed to recall ancient queens, her green eyes made leaves in
full bloom look dead and dull, and the natural red of her full lips was
deeper than what most women achieved with paint. Her beauty was
startling, as if I'd never experienced it before, and even when its
overwhelming rush faded it demanded my every ounce of my attention. Truly
the world would have been a lesser place had she died to my inadequacy.
Julian, Frederick and Archibald were already seated in a circle, likewise
entranced by our hostess. Before I could offer a greeting, she spoke.
"I'm so glad you could join us, Harry. I hope you're not suffering over
what transpired. You made the right decision to leave when you did."
A strange sensation washed over me, and for a moment my guilt was
muffled, but the strange urge to quash it only made the sensation more
acute. "My Lady, what I did cannot be forgiven. I only hope we can remain
friends despite my cowardice," I said.
Lady Varnham frowned for the briefest moment, but a smile quickly covered
the crack in her decorum. "I suppose I cannot blame you, Sir Atwood.
Still, please know that you can be, and are, forgiven. I wouldn't have
invited you to my house otherwise. Please, take a seat."
"Your kindness does my soul well, Lady Varnham," I said, taking my place
in the circle of chairs.
"Please, Harry, call me Janice, and accept my apology. I don't like
having a dear old friend refer to me by my title."
Again I felt the strangeness, and again my mind rejected it. This time
the backlash kindled more than guilt, and I felt like I was rising up
from a waking dream. Lady Varnham still looked achingly beautiful, but
she was no longer impossibly so, and I realized my other friends' stares
were somewhat blank, their eyes unfocused despite concentrating on our
hostess. Archibald and Frederick appeared slightly off as well, as though
their faces weren't quite their own.
"Truly, Harry, you need to learn to relax,"Jules said. His gaze remained
blank as it turned to me, his sturdy jaw slightly slack. "Isn't it nice
to just see Janice again? Dear, you should have the butler bring some
refreshments."
"His name is Gaston, Julian. You should remember it, he is your servant
is well," Lady Varnham said. An odd way of extending her services, but
she was a generous lady.
"Yes, I will try harder," Julian said. "I thought my man was Carter,
though? He's a proper Englishman."
Lady Varnham smiled lovingly and spoke slowly, as if lecturing a child.
"You know I prefer the French. They are so much more elegant than the
lower classes of our own country. Even the least Frenchman has an innate
appreciation for the finer things, while the English middle class is
terrified of luxury."
"Of course. My apologies, love. Gaston, could you fetch the tea for our
guests?" Julian said.
With a slight nod and a curt "oui," the little Frenchman hurried out of
the room. What had that been about? Julian had his own servants, and
since when had Lady Varnham staffed only Frenchmen? I felt a bit ill as I
watched the glassy-eyed stares of my friends, two of whom were now
decidedly different in ways I couldn't quite make out.
"Not sure why you'd prefer a servant who can barely speak the language,"
Frederick said, toying with a lock of hair. That was part of it, I knew,
he'd always kept it closed cropped. But what else? "I'd rather have a
dowdy old maid who can actually understand me and isn't interested in
putting on airs. Servants are for working, not ambiance."
"Why not both? The pretty ones don't cost any more, and you gain a work
of art in the bargain," Archibald said. He was running fingers through
his own hair, grabbing loose strands and doing his best to keep them
organized. Did he look skinnier as well? "It's nice to have something to
look at, to ease the eyes."
"Unless your idea of art is a hairy toad, Gaston is hardly a fine
example." Frederick's voice seemed to change as he rolled over the name,
pronouncing it with a French lilt that stood in contrast to his
opposition of all things foreign. His face was now clearly wrong too, his
normally squished visage perhaps a bit softer, paler and more pleasant,
with dark hair starting to pile itself above.
"Gaston is a fine servant, Frederick. I am surprised you would besmirch
your fellow countryman," Julian said. He wasn't changing, but it seemed
Carter now forgotten, and now he was calling Gaston Frederick's
"countryman?" Fred English as any of us, with a long if not entirely
noble family history.
"He's just jealous the man found work at such as splendid house. He
thinks just because he has a pretty face he should be working for the
Queen herself." Archibald tittered girlishly at the absurdity of idea,
seemingly out of place except for the feminine quality of his voice and
the wavy, honey-brown locks cascading down to his shoulders. His girth
was definitely diminished, as he was now no wider than me.
"I, ah, I am aware of my worth, is all," Frederick said, blushing and
looking at the ground. His voice was higher and he took each syllable
just a little too slowly, speaking with a slight but noticeable accent.
More pressingly, what was he talking about with his worth? He wasn't as
wealthy as Archibald or Janice, but he was still well off.
I stared at him, his too pale skin and almost unfamiliar face, and my
suspicions peaked as I recognized the sensation of calm and acceptance
grasp at me once more. Rejecting it was easy now. Frederick was much
paler, with his hair piled in a dark nest that had turned black as pitch,
and a second girlish giggle from Archibald wouldn't have attracted
attention from anyone who didn't know him. Their faces seemed to be
undergoing similar transformations, their eyes larger, their noses
smaller, their lips fuller and flusher than they'd been. They could have
been masquerading as women, and doing a good job of it.
"Frederick, are you feeling alright?" I asked. I saw Janice looking at me
out of the corner of my eye, but I ignored her.
A face I remembered uncharitable describing as rat-like but now rapidly
approaching pretty turned to me. "Yes, I am. What makes you ask?" he said
in an impeccable French alto, the accent thick and the words
uncomfortable on his tongue. Cheeks rose to prominence, ears shrank to
modesty and barely noticeable remnants of stubble disappeared completely
under smooth porcelain skin. Whatever was happening, it was accelerating.
"Sir Atwood? Are you the one who is alright?"
Even watching Fred speaking, it was hard to register those words as
coming from my friend. The tone was submissive, and he'd never stoop to
calling anyone Sir anything. I had to ignore those soft green eyes and
their thick lashes, those pouting lips above a tapered chin, to remember
the man sitting there.
"Harry, dear, please stop staring at Janice's maid. You're making the
poor girl squirm," a refined, feminine and entirely unfamiliar voice
said. The rest of the room was focused on me: Julian, unchanged but with
a slight frown; Lady Varnham, smiling wickedly and no doubt victoriously,
almost certainly the center of this strangeness; and someone who looked
like nobody so much as Archibald's sister, except her features were
exquisite where Patricia's were utterly plain. Her face radiated
disapproval.
Archibald was in an even worse state than Frederick, which mad me queasy.
He was shorter and had the frame of a healthy but not overweight woman.
His clothes had fused into a stylish dress, all colors and silken puffs
and embroidery, while his hair was styled like a lady's, tiers of curly
buns, and his full lips were redder than even Lady Varnham's. Brown eyes
held an almost unconscious hint of seduction, and diamonds adorned his
pierced ears. His chest was beginning to push against his new outfit,
noticeably swelling further with each passing moment.
"What did you do?" I asked of Lady Varnham, tearing my eyes from my
changing friends, not caring how mad I sounded. That smile made her
beauty treacherous, like a hypnotizing serpent calmly waiting to strike.
"What are you talking about, Harry?" she said. "Relax, have a drink and
clear your mind. Fran?ois, would you go see what is taking Gaston so
long?"
Without a moment's hesitation, Frederick stood. The legs of his pants had
widened and fused together with his shirt to form a dress made of dull
grey fabric more befitting a servant girl than a debutante. A simple
white apron was wrapped around the front, and a matching cloth rested on
his head.
"Oui madame," Frederick said in lyrical French, bowing slightly. "I will
fetch him at once."
It was hard to tell under that shapeless, form-smothering outfit, but the
fact that I could make out any curvature at all strongly implied that
he'd developed hips and breasts to rival Lady Varnham's. Archibald's
dress, somewhat less concerned with propriety, was made downright obscene
by the body underneath.
Frederick started walking away, but this time I wouldn't abandon my
friends. "Don't listen to her Fred," I said, trying not to think about
what he might look like underneath his uniform, no matter how enticing it
seemed. "You're a man, a free man, not this witch's servant. I don't know
what is happening, but you have to fight it."
He turned back to me, but there was no glimpse of recognition or fear in
his eyes, no features belonging to the man he'd been, no sign that he'd
ever been anything but an overly pretty maid. If anything, the young
woman looked embarrassed for the trouble she was causing her mistress.
"You make joke? I am Fran?ois, am all I have ever been," she said with
hesitation. "I am sorry, my English is not so good. I am sure it is a
very good joke."
"Please don't taunt Fran?ois, Henry," Lady Varnham said. "She's quite
beautiful, I think, not someone who could ever be confused with such an
ugly, ugly man."
"Indeed. And I certainly don't appreciate you calling my wife a witch,"
Julian said. His nonchalant words filled me with terror. "Whatever
brought that out?"
"You're not married, Jules," I said in desperation. He was the least
changed, he had to remember. "Christ, we all thought she was dead less
than a month ago. Don't you remember? She was our friend, nothing more,
and we bloody abandoned her in the bloody jungle!"
"What are you playing at Harry? You were the best man at our wedding.
What's more, you're the only one here making those ridiculous trips to
the heart of darkness. Are you sure these expeditions are healthy?"
"I'm not playing at anything. Don't you realize, it's her!" I stood up as
I pointed at Lady Varnham and shouted, feeling I had nothing to lose. I'd
been doomed the moment I accepted her invitation to damnation. "She made
Frederick and Archibald women, and turned all your memories to sludge!
She's doing this to you. To us!"
"Are you implying there's something wrong with being a lady, Sir Atwood?"
the woman who had been Archibald said in a high and clearly insulted
tone. I ignored her in favor of the creature who'd destroyed my friends,
matching her detached bemusement with my righteous hate.
"Lady Varnham is dead. I do not know what demon we brought back with us,
but know you will not win. Others will see through your illusions," I
said. That cold smile didn't falter, though she shook her head slowly.
"My dear, would you like me to do something about Harry?" Jules said. He
looked ready to jump from his chair and grab me. "The poor man is damn
near hysterical. Hasn't been right since he got back from that trip, but
it may be worse than I thought."
"No, no that won't be necessary, dear. Sir Atwood seems to be under the
impression that something terrible happened to me out in the wilds. Quite
the opposite," Lady Varnham's smile turned warm and genuine, like she was
gazing upon a favored child. "I half-expect him to remember who I was,
with how brightly his soul burns. Still, not even he is immune to my
gifts. Look in the mirror, Harry."
I had no intention of obeying her orders, but after an unconscious,
nervous glance I practically ran to the mirror on the mantle. I had
Jules' blue eyes and curly brown hair, while the contours my fine,
feminine face were nearly a mirror of Lady Varnham's, from my sharp
cheekbones to my rosebud lips, the look enhanced rather than marred by a
bit of Julian's stoniness. Looking down confirmed I was still a man
otherwise, but that was little comfort.
"What did you do to me?" I turned and demanded. My voice was shrill and
nervous, and even though it was mine it made me think of a woman at her
wit's end. Lady Varnham stood and slowly walked toward me. Julian and
Archibald seemed frozen in place, still staring at where I'd been rather
than where I now was.
"Your mind seems impervious, but your body is not," she said. "Suffice to
say I do not wish for the power I found to be driven from this world
again. For that I need a prot?g?, someone smart and driven and loyal, to
serve as the next generation. Your mind is stubborn, but I know how to
soften it without ruining it, like poor Frederick."
She was growing larger as she approached. No, I realized; the chairs and
my friends were gaining size as well. I was shrinking. I felt my hair
brush the back of my neck and years of confidence melt away. Determined
opposition of Lady Varnham gave way to meek uncertainty.
"Stop this," I said, my girlish voice cracking. I felt the fabric of my
now-dress hanging strangely off smaller shoulders, my waist sucking
itself in. "You know it won't work. You tried."
Her smile broadened, and it affected me. I saw love and approval in that
expression, and I wanted both. I tried to rationalize against it, but my
own mind felt alien. I was assaulted by a sudden, confusing and
powerfully hormonal mix of emotions, from curiosity regarding Parisian
fashion to a desire to look at boys. A pair of breasts budded and pushed
outward from my chest, but had barely become more than puffy cones when
they reversed course and retreated back from whence they came. As I kept
shrinking I knew they were biding their time until I reached womanhood in
a more natural fashion.
My penis was gone, but it hardly mattered as the room kept getting bigger
and big thoughts stopped working. Lady Varnham was really big too and I
was really small and I was scared. I wanted someone to hug me and tell me
it was gonna be okay. It was getting really hard to concentrate and
everything looked so big and I felt like I was gonna cry but I didn't
want to because Lady Varnham was there and I had to stand up to her even
if she was scary-pretty.
"Turn me back," I said, making my voice go as low as it could. I knew I'd
been a big strong grown up man, maybe big enough to scare her, and I had
to act like it. I frowned and pouted and stamped my foot. I couldn't see
the mirror anymore, but I hoped I looked scary even as I felt myself
start crying.
Lady Varnham laughed. "I am truly sorry, but I needed to make your mind
malleable, and what mind is more open than a child's? You'll never be a
man again, but you'll grow up to be an intelligent, beautiful woman in
due time. I don't think you'd miss being male even if you could remember
it."
"I don't want to be a girl!" I shouted, tears hot on my cheeks. I was a
boy! A grown-up boy! I didn't want to be in my favorite dress or have
pretty ribbons in my hair, I wanted to be an adult!
"Is that so now? Then why do you so desperately want to be like me when
you grow up?" Lady Varnham said. She became everything.
"Like you?" I felt something nice and soft in my head, telling me how
Lady Varnham was really really smart and pretty, but did I want to be
like her? Could I be like her? I hoped I could when I was grown up,
because Mother was the smartest and prettiest lady in the world, but that
was a long time away. Why was I crying? I stopped, but I had to keep
sniffling for a bit.
"There, there. Isn't that so much better, Henrietta?" Mother said as she
put out her hand. I reached up and grabbed it and followed her back to
the seats. I climbed up into the empty one just in time for Gaston and
Francois to come by with the tea. For a second Father and Lady Barrington
looked stuck in place, but then they moved like normal.
"Thank you for letting Henrietta join us," Father said to Lady
Barrington. "It's dreadfully informal, but she does like playing at being
an adult."
Francois brought me my tea cup and there was a sweet in the saucer. I
looked up at her and smiled and she winked at me. I like Francois,
especially because I can't say her name and just call her "Francy" but
she doesn't mind even though Mother says it's rude.
"Of course, Julian," Lady Barrington said. "The girl is a delight. I hope
to have a child of my own soon."
I asked Lady Barrington if I could hold her baby, and she said yes! I bet
her baby would be really pretty, because Lady Barrington is really
pretty, just not as pretty as Mother. Then everyone drank their tea and I
ate my sweet and then it was time for Lady Barrington to go.
"Thank you so much for stopping by, Elizabeth. Give my regards to Lord
Barrington," Father said as we were standing around while Francois got
her coat.
"Say farewell to Lady Barrington, Henrietta," Mother said, nudging me.
"Goodbye Lady Barrington." I was gonna do it, but I was just waiting for
the adults to stop talking. They always get mad when I interrupt.
"Goodbye, Miss Henrietta," Lady Barrington said. Mother was prettier, but
I liked Lady Barrington's dress more. It was so colorful.
That night, Mother came into my bedroom and showed me a big, thick really
weird looking book. I asked where she got it, and she said she might tell
me one day but right now it was secret, but that it came from far away.
She said she wanted to teach me what was inside. It didn't make much
sense, but I really liked the way I felt when she read it to me. It made
me feel really good and strong. We stayed up all night, and even though I
was tired the next morning, I couldn't wait to learn more.
Vicky
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