The Safecracker Suite - Part Two free porn video

-Part Two- -Burning Behind- Ruth was at the doorway of his new room while Marcus stood near the small dresser as he snapped at her. "You fucking psycho bitch you're as bad as that evil cunt Harry!" "I'm not going to play families with you two sick lunatics so you can just get it out of your fucking dense skull. I'm not your daughter and I never will be!" His little voice sounding almost hysterical as he stood up to Ruth. "I'm not Felicity! I'm Marcus! I'm a twenty two year old man so you can start fucking treating me like one for fucks sake!" Marcus shouted in his wavering voice. "If you think you can talk to me like that, you can think again little Missy," Ruth said walking slowly towards Marcus with measured purpose. "You need to learn that your place in the world has changed for now my little one, and I can only think of one kind of lesson that might just stick," she said, a grim smile playing at the edges of her mouth. "The Fuck, are you talking about Ruth?" he asked warily backing away as she moved toward him. "I'm talking about teaching you the importance of keeping your cover as Felicity at all times," she said bending down to Marcus's new height, "and I told you to stop calling me Ruth," her relatively small five foot three frame towering over his four and a bit feet tall one. "As far as the rest of the world is concerned, I'm your mother and you're my daughter for now Felicity, and you need to learn to act like it whether you want to or not," she said, her voice humourless, clinical and forceful. "So I'm going to teach you your new place my girl," Ruth firmly grabbed Marcus by the arm and pulled him towards the bed. "What? No! Fuck off Ruth! This isn't funny," Marcus cried out as he was tugged towards the bed, his efforts to fight back almost pointless as his diminutive light weight frame was simply not able to do anything much to fight against even a small female adult. "Mum, not Ruth and this is not a joke!" she told him as she pulled him closer. She sat heavily down on the edge of the fourposter bed, and pulled Marcus easily across her lap. "No don't! Don't even think about it Ruth!" he cried as he realised what was happening. Marcus struggled but Ruth overcame his flailing arms with ease. Effortlessly she held both his tiny arms against his back and with the other hand. "Don't Ruth, just..OK, Mother alright? Mother! Just don't hi-" Ruth ignored his protests as she spanked him soundly across the buttocks three times. "Fuuuck, Owww! Stop, Stop! Wahhh" his cursing turning instead into girlish sobs. Ruth had just thrown him over her lap and he had been helpless to do anything about it and then she had spanked him like a little god damned kid! This can not be happening! Then she lifted him bodily from her lap and placed him back on his tiny feet before her, eye to eye as Marcus stood in front of the sitting Ruth. With his small size and light weight carbon skeletal modifications she was able to manhandle him into almost any position with amazing ease. She firmly held his shoulders and looked into his eyes as Marcus rubbed his assaulted behind with both hands while unwanted tears welled up from the radiating pain. "You will be a good girl won't you Felicity?" she asked. "Please don't do this Ruth I swear I-" With frightening speed, Ruth dropped her right hand off his sholder and gave his buttock a swift smack from the side. "Mum, Mummy or Mother, not Ruth." "Oww!" "You will obey your mother, and you will do everything I say until this is all over," Ruth said talking over his pleading. "You will learn to be a proper young lady, and you will learn to behave like a model child. Do I make myself clear young lady?" Ruth was in full mother mode enjoying the complete power she had over this tiny feminised man. Calling him 'young lady' had certainly rung her bell and she squeezed her legs together savouring it as she continued to discipline the little girl shaped man in her lap. She could sense him trying to muster up the courage to keep fighting, but her physical domination over his new smaller frame had taken a lot of the fight out of him. She pulled him around easily and smacked his behind again. Moroder has sapped him of anything approaching the strength he would need to resist her. "Well Missy, I'm waiting, I asked you if that was clear?" Ruth asked again, holding onto Marcus by his little wrist. She could feel her clit standing at attention as she spanked the feminised man. "What? Wait! Ruth you can't do this to me!" Marcus pleaded with fear creeping into his voice. He had not been struck by anyone since he was three. Ruth again pulled him over her lap with breathtaking ease. "You will be a Good girl and you will obey your Mother," Ruth repeated striking Marcus's tiny round derriere twice more for emphasis. "Have I made myself clear?" she asked, her hand hovering in the air ready to smack him once more. Marcus lay speechless and helpless over her lap. A further protest was on his lips but he feared the sharp retort to his behind if he vocalised it. "If you think that hurt, just wait till I pull down your pants and panties and spank your bare behind Missy," she warned. "Yes! Yes! It's Clear!" he bawled as his small bare bottom continued to radiate pain. He squirmed helpless trying to get out of her lap. "What's clear?" Ruth asked triumphantly. "I..I'll..." Marcus tried to remain defiant but his stinging bum let him know where that would get him. "Well?" Ruth prompted him. "I'll be a good girl." "And?" "And I'll obey my,.Mu... Mother," he said in surrender, his voice catching as he tried to hold back tears. Ruth decided it was worth another little push before she let him off. "Hmm, That's not too bad," She said like she was critiquing his penmanship."But let's hear a single 'Mummy', just for me OK?" She asked brightly. Marcus looked into her eyes at the matronly woman sitting expectantly before him on the childish bed they had bought for him. It was clear she was enjoying this and it was equally clear he had absolutely no way to fight against her. With a deep breath he responded. "Mumm-" "No," Ruth interjected. "The whole thing please." Marcus let out a defeated sigh. "I'll be a good girl...and I'll obey my Mummy," he said quietly. "That's all I needed to hear Felicity. Thank you," Ruth said instantly releasing him, letting him stand and pulling him into her bosom for a firm hug and a kiss on his crown. Marcus blinked in astonishment how quickly she had flicked from angry spanking Mother to this loving Mummy act. "You will get used to this new life in time Felicity. You'll see," Ruth said holding his shoulders and looking into his small face. She had been taller than him by an inch or so, but with her sitting on the bed and him standing before her, they were almost eye to eye. He had no choice but to comply with her rules for now and play the role of Felicity, the child she wanted him to be. "You will learn to pass yourself off as a good girl and a good daughter until it becomes second nature. And maybe, just maybe, you will learn to forgive me one day for what I have done." Marcus couldn't bring himself to respond. Ruth was obviously fucking insane and he was at her mercy. "Now you get settled in and I'll make us both a nice dinner," she said as she stood up and walked out of his bedroom. Her room he thought to himself, not his. This was not Marcus's room at all. It belonged to that Felicity girl that Ruth was trying to make him become. Rubbing his still tender arse from the beating Ruth had inflicted on him he went over to the bed and lay face down pulling one of the pink pillows over his head as if to try and block out the world he was now stuck in. How the hell could his world have come to this? OK he had fucked up on the heist, of that there was no denial. But how had being on the run for killing a cop turned into taking on a girl child alias and being spanked by Ruth? For all the 'safety from Eyenet' talk from Harry and Ruth, he just knew that Harry had done this to him on purpose as some kind of sick joke. Surely a new face and a limp would have been more than enough to keep him hidden from the AI trackers. This enforced childhood only made any sense if you assumed Harry and Ruth were insane psychopaths making up bullshit to justify the feminised travesty Moroder had made of his body. After a prolonged time under the pillow trying to pull himself together, Marcus threw the pillow against a wall in an extremely ineffectual tantrum and turned over on the bed, feeling pain as he sat on his recently spanked rear and pushed himself carefully up right. He pulled himself together enough to walk into the small lounge room and turned on the TV looking immediately for his preferred news feed to lose himself in. The problems of the world were far removed from his own and was his preferred method of distraction in times of stress. Marcus sat in shock as he watched the news, his old face stared back at him from the screen. He was a wanted man, a national fugitive, and the search for him had been stepped up. His face from the body cam stared back at him from the TV as well as recent ones the police had sourced from social media, and some he knew only his mother had. His heart heaved at the thought of his Mum and Dad being interviewed by police. And then briefly he thought of how they would react seeing him now and tried to think of anything else. He could picture the disgust and disappointment his Dad would feel all too easily. And then he watched an in depth piece on the literally superhuman ability of the Police tracking AI using Eyenet. They described in detail how AI could identify a person by movement alone with under 4 seconds of footage to go on once it was trained with enough video of the target. That in essence only 7 data points were needed to make a 99% likely identification of a tracked individual. He felt like ice water was running down his back. The reality of his situation hit him hard and he could feel the weight of it bearing down on him. For the first time since waking up in that clinic, Marcus was actually thankful for the radical nature of the surgery. Apart from having his fucking cock replaced with a vagina that is. He turned to Ruth sitting next to him and said in a voice filled with despair. "I can't believe it. I'm the most wanted man in the fucking country. How the fuck did this happen?" He buried his small face in his hands and rubbed his tired eyes with his palms. Ruth wrapped a comforting arm around Marcus's shoulder. "I know it's hard Sweety, but we'll get through this together. We have a plan and we just need to stick to it," she said, and for a moment Marcus actually derived some comfort from her embrace, crazy though she was. It had only been a matter of 6 or 7 hours since they had left the clinic and almost all of it had been some version of hell for him and And he relaxed into her hug. Ruth's heartbeat rose as Marcus nestled into her unbidden, just like a little child. She gently patted his shoulder and pulled him in a little closer. And he let her. Less than 2 hours ago this woman had held him on her lap and spanked him into submission, and now she was coddling him like a mother bird. And he was letting her. What the fuck was wrong with him? "Once the heat subsides and it's safe enough you'll be able to get a new identity from Moroder, something closer to the real you, and this will all be over," Ruth said trying to cheer up the tiny little man in his cute denim overalls. "Whatever you want Honey, taller, stronger, new dick, bigger dick, maybe even bigger tits, Your call," she joked although Marcus was not laughing. "Doctor Moroder is an accommodating genius so long as you're paying him his going rate." Marcus just sighed and continued to watch his old face on the TV with Ruth sat holding him. With mirrors only reflecting back what that doctor had done to him, the evening news was now his only opportunity to see his real self again. A few hours later as street lights shone against a darkening evening sky, Marcus was still sitting in the living room, trying to avoid dealing with his new life as a young girl by binge watching the detonation of his old one broadcast globally. Rubber necking his own fatal car crash of a life. He was concentrating forcefully on the news on the search, interviews with family and associates. He had only awoken earlier that day but It was almost a month since the job and the media were still heavily rotating the story, even with nothing new to report. The public seemed divided about his fate, half thought he must be dead in the face of the powerful AI's abilities to spot fugitives with alarming speed, but there were a lot that insisted he was alive and living it up overseas. Fuck he wished they could have been right. Some viral undercurrent of the public was identifying positively with an armed gang able to successful evade the ever more intrusive government monitors. And in the face of it becoming a self feeding media frenzy, the police manhunt was still at full strength and showed no signs of ending till he was caught. He had become an irritant in the smooth running system and from beat cop to police commissioner they loathed his apparent success at evading justice. His fellow street racers were laying low trying to avoid being connected to him, he was too hot to even acknowledged by them as existing, A couple of his street racing gang had been door stopped, but they weren't answering questions. He recognised a few try hards he had smashed on night circuits giving their two cents worth about him like they knew a damned thing about him. He'd become a god damned celebrity and he was completely unable to enjoy it. He cringed with ear burning embarrassment as he though what the media circus would be if he was ever captured looking like this. Even Kim had been interviewed. He hadn't seen her in nearly a year as they broke up Christmas before last. But he could still picture her legs spread invitingly in the back of her Rivian camper and him going down on her, her scent filling his nostrils, as she spoke to the reporter on TV describing him as a nice guy. "A bit immature and secretive but still kinda hot." Kim still thinks I'm hot at least. He thought to himself as a grin made it's way unnoticed to his face for the first time since before he had been through Moroder's Clinic. God she was still hot he thought to himself as he studied her perfect tits, the news cameraman had nicely framed them as the field reporter asked her inane questions. He let his mind wander back to the days when he and Kim were at it like rabbits. He pictured her slender back as he bent her over the counter top and took her from behind in her kitchen. The warm delicious memory of burying his cock deep inside her as she came, and he felt his transplanted groin tingling with the memories of how wild she was in the sack. A phantom hard on was growing along with a hot prickling sensation he had never felt before which he tried to stamp on. No. He shifted in his seat uneasily as he felt a silent humming deep between his legs. Doctor Moroder had said his transplanted genitals would need a few more days to fully heal and connect the last of the nerves. Fuck I hope they don't heal much more, he thought. It's already felt overwhelming. Control yourself Marcus, do not let them get to you. He closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind with a few measured breaths. Harry burst in the front door bellowing "Daddy's home!" Making Marcus almost leap up guiltily from the feeling that had been building from the traitorous thing in his pants. At least that smug fuckers face was working like an ice cold shower on his troubling libido. Harry laughed at the sight of him. "Wow Ruth, you weren't kidding about the difference clothes make," he cackled, taking in Marcus's long blonde hair in an Alice band and the little girls overall's hanging off his petite frame. "I'm home princess, come give Daddy a hug," Harry said half squatting down in front of Marcus and holding his arms out almost as wide as his grin like he was a TV Dad. "Fuck off Harry," Marcus said curtly not moving from the couch. Ruth rolls her eyes, used to Harry's antics. "Cut it out Harry, we have work to do." But Harry couldn't contain his amusement. "I can't believe it. Marcus you make such an adorable little girl though, seriously man. I don't think Eyenet has a snowballs chance of spotting you," Harry said with satisfaction. "Felicity not Marcus," Ruth corrected him. "Oh shit, yeah, sorry Ruth. I meant to say, Felicity makes an adorable little girl. My bad." Marcus glared at Harry, his anger boiling over. "You think this is funny? You have no idea what it's like. It's not like a fake ID. It's hard to adjust to what is practically a new body, especially when I look a god damned little kid Harry!" "You're a natural at the 'whiny little girl' thing Kiddo, you sure you hadn't already been practising in your spare time before Moroder did his work?" Harry teased. "I reiterate, 'Fuck Off!' Harry. All the fucking way off." Harry laughed unfazed by Marcus's outburst, if not actively enjoying it. "Relax Felicity, it's all part of the job. And speaking of jobs, I've got a new one for us. A big score at the Museum of Fine Arts. They've got a new exhibit of priceless jewels coming through on tour and I've scoped out the perfect way in." As Harry laid out the details of the heist, Marcus couldn't help but feel a twinge of excitement. This was the life he knew, the life he was good at. The actual thrill of the work was a buzz he rarely spoke of, but if he was honest, it was that buzz that kept him working as much as the money. But as he looked down at his small hands, he couldn't shake the feeling of unease. Could he pull this off as a young girl? Would he even want to? As they sat at the kitchen table, Harry pulled up a satellite map of the museum on the desk top projector showing detailed floor plans and a 3D extrapolation of the secure vaults. "Right" he said bringing his hands together for a meaty clap to indicate the start of his presentation. "So the beauty of this job is we won't have to sell it, we are stealing on consignment. By appointment as it were. Super fortunate for us, its government work so it pays huge. Not allowed to officially say which one, but it's one of the big ones. 31 million three ways for a bit over 10 each. To be deposited in global accounts based in Neo Delhi." "There are some pieces of significant national importance to the client and they have decided that rather than wait another century asking in international courts if pretty please with fucking chocolate sprinkles on top, could the National Museum return the fucking stones, they will go a less diplomatic route." "Now you can both take an educated guess who we are working for, and well done you for doing so. But I'm not confirming nor denying a thing," He said "So moving on to the actual work and the taregt zone will be the yearly cultural showcase right here in the city. The Korgan Museum has a cultural arts program staged on the premises and a local institution, Madam Dubois's Ballet Studio, will be performing during the travelling exhibits brief residency in town. Getting access to her ballet troupe secures us access to the building. We'll have a perfectly safe way to get the goods out, Felicity can just stuff them down her leotard and simply walk out the door, the floor security is super tight, but not even the secret service would strip search prepubescent girls," Harry grinned wolfish at Marcus. "Nah just kidding Short Stuff, but we will be relying on child privacy laws to obscure the switch." Marcus wordlessly held a central digit up to Harry without making eye contact. "So here's the deal," Harry continued. "The ballet recital will be our entry point. The girls' change room shares a wall with the security server. This provides direct physical access to the museum's security system. There's actually the mainframe fibre running along the change room wall before tunnelling into the server room, Marcus, you'll be able to patch into it from the change room just before the performance using a mosquito plug. Just stab it into the fibre bundle sort of straightish and the nano wires will worm their way in. That will give us an entry point so I can inject some spoofware to make it think everything is super peachy fine while I'm walking around tripping multiple sensors at once. While the showcase performance is on, I will slip away from the audience, I'll walk into the opened display case, snatch the pieces and exit. Ruth will leave 5 minutes before I do to secure the preped Go car. We'll both be gone before the performance finishes. By the time the performance is done they will have the system back up again they will discover the exhibit is missing and security lock downs will go into effect. There's a chance the spoofware will keep the internal security protocols busy till its done, but I wouldn't bank on it. I plan to be in and out in less than 3 minutes and in the car with Ruth under 5. But if or rather, when the alarms trigger then you just have to stay in lock down with the troupe while the police go into their containment protocols. It shouldn't take them more than an hour to let the performers and audience leave the premises. Then when you get changed, you simply walk out with the rest of the dance troupe." Ruth nodded, her eyes gleaming with excitement. "We'll need to start preparing right away," she said. "The heist is six weeks from now, so we don't have a lot of time." Marcus sat there in shock, his heart sinking as he realised what was being asked of him. "You want me to pretend to do ballet?" he stammered, feeling a mix of embarrassment and shame wash over him. Harry let out a delighted chuckle. "No not all Felicity, I want you to actually learn it. Dubois Ballet Studio performance features a showcase of her new dancers, but she only uses the dancers who have shown promise. You will need to pass an audition and that might be tough, but a resourceful guy like you should have no trouble earning your rightful tutu!" Marcus deigned to tell him to fuck off again, sticking once more to raising a middle finger. Ruth added her thoughts to the discussion. "It's the perfect cover Marcus," she said, placing a hand on his arm. "No one would suspect a thing and the ball room dancing you did in high school should have at least some cross over with ballet surely. I'm sure you'll master it," Marcus cringed at the mention of his ball room dancing, he had not had any problems with it and actually enjoyed his high school dance classes, but Harry had somehow gotten hold of his social's from back then and loved to give him shit about it. "Yeah, Felicity I'm sure you'll shine like a diamond. With your dance background coupled with those carbon limbs and high tensile tendons you'll be prima-ballerina inside a week," Harry said. Marcus sat in sullen silence, still angry at the whole situation. He was being forced into fucking ballet lessons by these two as part of a heist. All because of this new bullshit identity as a ten year old girl. "You'll just need to focus on ballet lessons and getting into the troupe for the showcase. Once we get that done it's clear sailing. The actual fibre Tap is dead simple like I said a simple stab so long as it's mostly on the right angle will be fine," Harry said "Just approach it like any other job and you'll do great." "Yeah thanks for that, also Fuck You Harry." "Watch your language please," Ruth interjected. "Just focus on the ballet and everything else will fall into place." Marcus nodded. He was beyond mortified at the thought of joining a ballet class and pretending to be little Felicity in front of real children, but his path forward seemed to have been cleared of any off ramps. The only way to get into a position to have Moroder reverse his surgeries was to go forward with this insane heist plan. And 10 million was enough to cover a variety of expenses. So long as things go smoothly that is, and why on earth would he ever have cause to expect things to not go smoothly? Harry seemed to sense his discomfort and turned to him with a wide smile. "Don't worry Felicity," he said, using Marcus's new name with glee. "After all, you were already pretty small and agile to begin with, it should come naturally to you. I've got every faith in you Pumpkin." Marcus glared at him with fury but remained silent. He absolutely hated being called pumpkin but didn't say anything to acknowledge it, knowing Harry would be just hoping he reacted. If he arced up about being called Pumpkin, that fucker would probably have it tattooed on his fucking forehead. He also knew that he had no choice open to him but to go along with their crazy plan, at least for now. He would have to do his best to blend in with the other ballet students. He knew he had no choice but to go along with the plan, but the thought of having to learn ballet and perform was daunting to say the least. After an hour or more of talking to Ruth, since Marcus seemed to have been relegated to seen but not heard catagory, Harry stood up and announced his departure. "Hate to love and leave you ladies, but I've still got a lot to take care of cleaning up the mess from the last job and getting this new one up and running. I'll see you in about a week," He grinned at Marcus and gave him a jaunty finger gun salute. "Be good for Mummy." Marcus just glared daggers at him as Harry walked over to Ruth and then without warning he wrapped his arms around her unexpectedly and drew her in. Ruth was taken aback by Harry's forward manner and at first she tensed up, but she relaxed as Harry tilted his head and whispered in her ear. "Do I know what a girl wants, or do I know what a girl want's, Hmm?" Harry asked like he had given her a diamond necklace. And then he kissed her. And Ruth found herself kissing him back momentarily before he pulled back from her. "And you be good for Daddy," He said to her quietly enough for only her to hear, grinning happily at her as she stared at him in shock. Ruth's eyes widened as she realised what was happening. Harry was using Marcus as a love offering to rekindle their aborted early romance. It was outrageous, it was sick and twisted, and she also realised that it was working on her. "You girls have fun," Harry said pocketing his desk projector and walking towards the door. And then with one last grin at Marcus in his cute little overalls, Harry opened the front door and was gone once more. Marcus looked at Ruth with suspicion and uncertainty. "So....you and Harry are a thing now?" he asked. "What?, no....No," Said Ruth suddenly not sure if she was or not. And very much unsure about how she felt about it. "Anyway I think you should be heading off to bed now don't you?" Ruth asked. Truth to tell even though it was early, he had had a stressful and exhausting day and he could use the sleep. "Yeah I reckon I'll do that." "Goodnight Felicity" she said as he got up and walked to bed. "Yeah, goodnight," he said and he walked into Felicity's room. He rolled his eyes at all the pink around the room as he stepped out of his overalls. He grabbed his panties to pull them down but decided against it. He was still actively avoiding having anything to do with that thing between his legs, so he kept those and the long sleeved T shirt on. He flicked off the light only to find that the off position flicked on a thin pink light strip that bathed the room in a soft pink hue. A pretty night light for a girl too little to sleep in the dark. "Ohh for fucks sake," Marcus mumbled as he walked over to the little girls bed and climbed in, pulling another pillow over his head. A short time later he drifted off into a troubled slumber. -Ballet Beginner Blues- The next morning Marcus slowly awoke, the rapidly fading remembrance of a dream falling away like a mist. He could feel the happy afterglow of whatever the dream might have been about but any details eluded him. The pleasurable feeling of morning wood had him pushing a hand under the elasticised waist of his pyjamas to grab his cock. He tried to wrap his hand around what was no longer there, and after a slight momentary confusion he sat bolt upright with a jolt of remembrance about the nightmare of yesterdays rude awakening. He pulled his hand back out of his pyjamas with a guilty start, but the urgent tingling between his thighs was slow to dissipate. "Fuck," he sighed throwing his hands above the covers and staring straight ahead at the back of his new bedroom door. He was going to have to get out of bed, which would mean he would have to get dressed in the stupid childish clothes Ruth had bought for his small but mortifying new wardrobe. And then he would have to deal with Ruth not just treating him like a child but forcing him into act like one as well. Nothing about the coming day was going to be anything other than an embarrassing cringe making hellscape for him, and he was at a loss to think of a single good reason to even get out of bed. In fact just as an exercise in futility he tried to imagine the mere possibility of the day not sucking an entire ocean full of ass. The prevailing view of the physical world held by the smartest people today was that multiple universes or even multiple infinite universes surrounded us presenting every conceivable outcome. Some of which mathematically speaking had to not only not suck, but be subjectively and objectively good outcomes. He was sat up in bed, his arms crossed over his ludicrously small chest and his fine blonde hair falling over his eyes trying to visualise at least on good outcome that might be possible as he heard footsteps and knock at the door, before Ruth opened it without waiting for a reply. "Time to get up sleepyhead. Once you get some breakfast in we're going into town to get you your ballet gear," She said "I'll make you some toast to have with your cereal." "Fuuuuck," Marcus said under his breath, thankful his hair would prevent Ruth from lipreading his reaction to the predictably horrible news. Marcus was filled with dread as they pull into the car park of the dance supply store. He didn't want to admit it, but he was petrified of being seen in public like this. So far it was only the clinical staff, Harry and Ruth that had seen him and he was just not feeling like he could handle being presented like this to the world at large. He was wearing a white blouse he had picked out because he hadn't seen the puffiness of the sleeves until he had it on and had once more pulled the overalls on, not willing to put on one of the skirts or dresses he had been given. His shoes, while horribly girly with the floral print covering them, were at least very comfortable to walk in. Ruth parked the car and turned to him, her voice firm but gentle. "Come on Felicity, let's go get you set up for Madam Dubois's." Marcus reluctantly followed her into the store. As they entered the dance supplies store he felt a pit in his stomach. He'd never felt so embarrassed in his life. The bell on the door jingled as they entered. Rows and rows of ballet shoes, leotards, tights, and tutus filled the surprisingly spacious store. Marcus couldn't help but feel embarrassed as they made their way to the girls' section. "I can't believe you're making me do this Ruth," Marcus hissed as they walked around the store. "I'm a man, not a little girl." "You're not a man anymore Felicity, we've been through this," Ruth replied calmly in a lowered voice. "You're a ten year old girl now and you need to remember that. That's the part you have to play if you want to get through this without ending up in custody." "I don't understand how you can be so casual about this," Marcus said, his voice shaking with anger. "You're just going along with Harry's fucking insane plan." "I don't have a choice Felicity any more than you do," Ruth said, her tone becoming more defensive. "We both have to do what Harry says. He's the one calling the shots. He always has been," Ruth said, think back to Harry's surprising move yesterday. Yes, he was calling the shots and Marcus was right, she was just going along with it. Right now the actual heist itself was no where near as important to her as getting Marcus into ballet tights and a leotard. She knew that she couldn't justify it but the thought of making Marcus into her little ballerina daughter was rapidly becoming an obsession. Harry was right. He really did know what she wanted. "I can't believe you're willing to just throw away my life like this," Marcus exclaimed. "We used to be a team Ruth. We used to have each other's backs." "Things have changed Marcus," Ruth said returning to the task at hand and her voice starting to crack. "We have to adapt if we want to survive. And you need to do the most adapting of all, my girl," she brushed Marcus's attempt to reply with a wordless warning as the woman running the store approached. "Hello ladies, can I help you find anything?" she asked with a friendly smile. "Yes, we're here for some ballet outfits for my daughter," Ruth grinned. "Oh, how exciting! Is this her first recital?" The girl's eyes lit up. Ruth shook her head. "No recital yet, she's just starting out and we want to make sure she has the right outfits for going to lessons." The girl led them to a section of the store filled with tutus and leotards. "We have a wide variety of sizes and styles for girls of all ages. Is there anything in particular you're looking for?" "We'll need leotards and tights to begin with, it might be for the best to get fresh measurements, you know how quickly little girls can grow," Ruth said getting into her role as a doting mother and feeling herself lubricating at the thought of Marcus in a tutu. "Of course," The store girl pulled out a tape measure and quickly took his new measurements. She measured Marcus "Okay, it looks like we'll need a size 9 for the leotard and size 8 for the tights. You're a petite little thing aren't you?" she said smiling down at Marcus. Ruth nods approvingly. "That sounds about right. Can you also grab her a pair of ballet shoes in about size 6 ?" "Absolutely," the girl replies cheerily. In no time at all she returns with a selection of leotards, tights, and shoes. "Here are some options for you ladies to choose from. Just come get me when your ready," She smiled and left them to it. Ruth encouraged him to try everything on, and Marcus knew he had no choice but to comply. As he stood in front of the mirror in a pink leotard with matching tights and ballet shoes, Marcus couldn't believe what his life had become. Ruth eventually selected three leotards. A plain white one and a second one in white with pastel pink piping on the seams and a third in pale pink Lycra. She bought a few pair of tights in pinks and whites, and a pair of beginners ballet shoes in Marcus's size. She also grabbed a tutu, telling him that he would need it for the recital. Marcus stood there, frozen in embarrassment as she picked out the alien items. As they made their way to the counter, Marcus couldn't help but feel like everyone in the store was staring at him. He wanted to shrink into the ground, but Ruth was all business, paying for the items and bundling them into a bag. Above the store girls head something caught her eye and Ruth smiles happily. "I'll have that as well thank you, she said pointing at the wall" "This is perfect don't you think Felicity?" she held up A soft pink and white duffel bag with the legend Pretty Ballerina scrawled across it in flowery cursive writing. "Sure,... Mum. Thanks," he said dejectedly doing the barest minimum to keep up the mother daughter act. "Huh, kids today, never happy. Am I right?" Ruth asked of the shop keeper, who smiled a retail workers smile in return. Back in the car, Marcus couldn't help but feel a sense of hopelessness wash over him. How had his life come to this? On returning home Marcus was quickly back in the lounge, once more wallowing in the news streams until he moved on to watching old movies. Anything to distract him from thinking about what had been done to him and what he was going to have to do in order to get this next heist done. A few hours after they had eaten a mostly silent dinner, Marcus was watching the recently rebooted Long John Silver movie when Ruth came in. "OK Felicity, that's enough TV for today, It's time for you to go to bed." Marcus looked up at the time. "It's barely even nine O'clock Ruth. This is ridiculous," Marcus protested. Ruth frowned at him, her face clouding over. "I've told you plenty of times, not to call me Ruth. Now go and get into your pyjamas, its bed time." "I am not a child, I'll go to bed when I fucking feel like it," Marcus retorted. He had been stewing about his relegation to child status all day since they had returned from the shopping trip. Ruth's expression hardened, and she fixed Marcus with a stern gaze. "You are a child Felicity and I've got documentation to prove it. I told you when we got here that you need to play the role of a ten year old girl even in the house," she said, her voice cold and dismissive. "You are a young girl, and young girls need their rest. You remember what we said about you doing what you're told? Now, go to bed Felicity right now!" Ruth said firmly pointing a finger towards Marcus's hated bedroom. Marcus felt his anger and frustration boil over, and he couldn't hold back his emotions any longer. "Not fucking happening Ruth. I'm twenty two not ten and I'm watching this movie, so fuck off and play Mummies with someone else, 'cause I'm not fucking having it." Ruth's expression turned to one of disappointment and disapproval. She walked up to Marcus and grabbed him by the arm, pulling him towards the bedroom with alarming ease. "You will not speak to me like that, young lady," she said firmly. And as Ruth dragged him towards his new room and the horribly pink four poster bed, Marcus's eyes widened in fear as he realised she was going to spank him again. "No Ruth! Don't!" She sat down on the bed and dragged Marcus across her knee, and then roughly she pulled the shoulder straps of his tiny overalls down and began tugging them off him. No matter his struggles he was unable to prevent her from pulling them down. "Jesus Ruth OK Mum! Alright? Stop it now!" he yelled as Ruth got his pants down displaying his tiny bottom in his pastel panties. "This time I hope you learn something Missy, because unless you want to be spanked repeatedly and often, I suggest you learn to behave," She said calmly, as she enjoyed a power she held over the surgically modified young man. "Ruth, Mum, Mummy please, don't do this I'll behave, I swear, just NO!" The last frightened 'No' as Ruth pulled his panties down to, his arse bare. "Little," Ruth said firmly as she smacked his bottom firmly in emphasis. "Girl's," Smack! "Go," Smack! "To," Smack! "Bed," Smack! "When," Smack! "They," Smack! "Are," Smack! "Told!" Smack! "Ahhh" Marcus screamed and it turned to a high pitch girlish shriek. "I'll go to bed! I Swear It! Ahh, Stop! Noooo!" Ruth released her hold on his arms pressed effortlessly into his back, and let him stand up again and he went to pull up his underwear and overalls. "No dear, it's time to get out of those clothes and ready for bed." Marcus stood heaving lungs full of air as he tried to regain his composure. She had spanked him like a little kid again and he was powerless to do anything about it. "Come on, clothes off sweetie," Ruth said, snapping him out of his stupor. "Huh?" "Clothes off." And he dropped his half pulled up overalls and stepped out of them. Then he pulled off his T shirt and stood before Ruth in nothing but the pink panties he had put on this afternoon when he left Moroders clinic. "Panties too, come on." And he pulled down his underwear wincing as the back of of them slide over his recently spanked bum until he was standing naked and exposed before Ruth who was entranced by the smooth hairless slit between his legs. "Good girl," Ruth said. She stood up, walked over to the dresser and pulled open a draw. "Here you go, put these on," Ruth said handing him A pair of pyjama bottoms and a matching silky pyjama top. Marcus held the offered pyjamas like they might rear up and bite him. Light pink like 80% of the stuff in this room and something printed on it. "Come on, chop chop," Ruth said hurrying him along. He stepped into the bottoms, a pair of shorts with ruffled legs with small white butterflies covering them. He pulled the top over his bare torso and looked at himself in the dresser mirror. The top hung loosely like a flared out T shirt, on his chest a large glittery butterfly logo around which a motto like scroll read 'Just A Girl Who Loves Butterflies'. He hung his head in shame and the tiny little girl in the mirror did the same. "OK, now get into bed." Marcus quickly got into the bed and pulled the quilt up over him and Ruth followed him over and sat down on the bed looking down at him pinned under the covers. "Now," Ruth began "Are you going to be a good girl from now on?" Marcus nodded mutely. "Nope, I need to hear it to know you understand. Now are you going to be a good girl?" "...Yes," he answered quietly. "Yes what?" "..Yes mother." Ruth smiled down at him. "You know what? I think that we can work towards 'Mother'," Ruth said, as she looked down at the helpless little man in his adorable pink pyjamas. "You can call me mother when you have shown you are mature enough. For now I think you can stick you calling me Mummy," she said grinning at him. "Do you understand me." Marcus looked up at his one time getaway driver. "Yes ...Mummy," he said in defeat. "Such a good little girl," Ruth said beaming down at him and then she leaned down and hugged him tightly and kissed him on the forehead, both cheeks and then on his lips. "Night night baby girl," Ruth cooed at him. "Night night Mummy," Marcus replied in the hopes of ending it sooner rather than later. And with that Ruth stood up and left, flicking off the main light and bathing the room once more in its soft pink glow of the night light. And after a while Marcus drifted off into a dreamless sleep. Marcus woke up the next morning confused and disoriented. As he looked around the room, he saw the posters on the wall, the pink comforter on his bed, the stuffed animals on the shelves and it started to dawn on him that he was not in his own room. Or rather it was his new room. Her new room. He tried to convince himself that it was all a bad dream, but as he looked at his small hands and felt the pull of his long blonde hair trapped under his arm, he knew that it was not. The reality of his situation came crashing in on him again. As he got dressed and ready for the day, he couldn't help but feel self- conscious about his new body and his feminine clothes. He looked in his new wardrobe for anything less girly than the outfit he had come home in, only to discover it was by far the closest to a manly outfit he now owned. The overalls seemed to be the only long legged pants he had apart from a pair of tiny pink leggings and Ruth had taken them with her as she sent him to bed last night along with the rest of the clothes he had worn to put them in the washing machine. Most of what was in the draws and cupboards was either pink frilly or a combination of both. He pulled on a pair of canvas shorts that were a muted pink, a white T shirt with a small Daisy printed on it and a pair of almost plain white trainers with a butterfly pattern. He was also wearing a large floral scrunchie he found on the dresser putting his hair in a pony tail. As much as he hated the look, it kept the long blonde hair out of his eyes. He walked into the kitchen to look for some breakfast and poured himself a bowl of cornflakes. As he poured milk in he was dismayed to find that a three litre milk bottle seemed about at the limit of what he could pick up, his arm muscles trembled as he sought to keep the bottle from dropping out of his small hands. He hated being so small and weak. Carrying his bowl to the lounge, Marcus ate his breakfast as he watched the news on TV hoping to catch any updates about the search, or even better hoping to hear it had been called off. But it had been 27 days since the botched robbery and it was still part of the daily new roundup. No news of course but they still manufactured as much as they could to feed the public's interest in the case. Either way, watching anything was a welcome momentary distraction from his distressingly girly body. He could forget for minutes at a time what had been done to him while watching TV so having nothing else to do, that's what he did. After a couple of hours of the morning had been expended staring sullenly at the TV, Ruth came into the lounge. "Felicity, I've got a surprise for you in the garage that I think you might just like," she declared, and he was wary as she led him into the garage. So far none of her surprises had been anything but further indignities and he saw no reason to think that this would be any different. Ruth's brand new sleek black BMW filled most of the space and he couldn't help but feel a sense of jealousy looking at it. The brutal open intakes and low profile carbon wheels were all that delineated it as a performance model. Ruth had always had a taste for understated power when it came to her cars. But next to the BMW, there was a small pink push bike clearly meant for a young girl. It had a basket attached to the front and a bell on the handlebars with pink and white streamers spilling down. Purple wheels and Disney logos completed the monstrosity and on the front of the basket Elsa from Frozen smiled hugely out at him. Not that Marcus had any idea who that was. Not a single engine on it either, just a single gear and primitive chain and pedal. "Ta da!" Ruth said once waving her open hands while she did a spokes model impression for yet another grand 'fuck you' prize. Ruth beamed as she told Marcus that the bike would be perfect for him to move around and scout the area and Marcus just tried to tune out her supportive loving mother bullshit routine. He felt like he'd hit a new low looking at it. Why the fuck would he ever need to scout anything on this stupid kids bike? That's what the drone swarm was for. To add insult to ironic injury, Ruth handed him an extra 'gift', a small bike helmet decorated with characters from the cartoon Paw Patrol. Marcus felt humiliated and angry as he looked at the pastel pink helmet with some cartoon dog called Skye on it smiling back at him. He wanted to protest, to refuse, but he knew that there was no point. "Thank's...Mum," he said aiming to try and make this end as soon as possible. "You're so very welcome Felicity," Ruth beamed down at him for all the world looking like she actually meant the words at face value. "Why don't you take it out for a spin, I know its not your racing bike but it might give you a little bit of independence back." "Ruth I-" "Stop!" Ruth interjected. "There's public space out there. Public space filled with Eyenet surveillance and you can not call me Ruth anymore. What do you call me?" she asked like it was a pop quiz. Marcus dropped his head, his whole body slumping on the little cycle. "Uhh," he sighed, sounding a lot like a girl dealing with her mother. "..Mother or Mum." "And?" ".. and Mummy." "That's it, you almost left out the best one," Ruth smiled. He felt like a complete fool sitting on a kids bike dressed like a child while Ruth tried to bully him into displaying himself to the outside world. "Felicity go on, it'll be fun," said Ruth with a sly smile. "Fun? I look like a fucking prissy little fruitcake," replied Marcus, his voice filled with anger and embarrassment. "No you don't, and also watch your language," corrected Ruth. "You look like a cute little girl Felicity and that's the whole point. Everyone including Eyenet will see an unremarkable girl with zero connections to anything of police interest," Ruth said. "You need to blend in and look innocent and riding that bike up and down the street a few times will help you do that. Any passing algorithms will just see a young girl out in her neighbourhood on her bike, that face will context link Felicity Taylor and little bike girl and further fill in the alias. Think of it as colouring in a colouring book. Trust me," Marcus fumed at her, taking as particularly insulting the colouring book analogy which he felt was entirely gratuitous. "I can't do it." Marcus shook his head. "I can't go outside looking like this," He was worried about being seen by anyone at all. Any sapient life form, in fact. Even a particularly bright Parakeet looking at him right now would probably be enough to set him off. He was frightened he would be exposed as a man but he was petrified that it was going to be impossible for him to pass as anything other than a little girl now. Ruth walked over and squatted down next to Marcus and took his small hands in hers and made direct eye contact with him. "Honey the only people who'll laugh will be any little boys and they won't want anything to do with an icky little girl like you anyway. You're a cootie risk now remember? Little girls will think you are one of them and adults will just straight up ignore you. It's practically a crime to notice other peoples children these days anyway. You'll be fine." Despite himself a brief smile escaped his face and he was barely able to stifle a laugh at Ruth's explanation which was insulting and patronising, but still somehow funny. Maybe it was just nervous exhaustion from putting up with Ruth's weapons grade mothering constantly. Being spanked had certainly taken a bit of a toll on Marcus's state of mind that's for sure. He found his mind wandering back to and he was still having trouble dealing with it. But he knew for certain that it hurt like hell and he was strongly motivated to not have Ruth repeat the experience. "Felicity love, you have to trust me. You need to disappear into the crowd and this is a great way to go about it. Now get on that bike and go for a ride, that's an order. It'll do you good. Just take a ride and don't come back for at least an hour or so." Marcus stood there staring at Ruth like she had grown a second head. "I mean it Felicity, get on your bike and get outside right now." With no options available, Marcus reluctantly pulled the crash helmet over his head and walked over to the bike. He climbed onto it feeling self-conscious and embarrassed in his outfit and helmet. As he rode off, Ruth called out to him, "Be safe, sweetie!" Marcus felt humiliated as he rode down the street, trying to avoid being seen by anyone even slightly connected to the Primate family. -Bashfully Blending- As Marcus pedalled his awful pink bicycle to the end of the street, he thought about what the bike really meant. He suspected that Ruth had an ulterior motive for the bike, but that was hardly shocking as pretty much all for her motivations tended towards ulterior-ness. This was her telling him something. You can escape the house, but you can't escape Felicity. He had told himself two days ago on ride from the clinic that he could just bolt from the car at a set of traffic lights and then figure out a plan on the run. And Ruth had offered him the chance yesterday too. Well here he was now outside of his prison without even trying, complete with the best transportation a ten year old girl could hope for and why wasn't he pedalling as fast as possible away from that house and Ruth and Harry? Well because they were the only known route back to being Marcus for one thing, or at least being someone he could live with being. He was stuck with them and stuck as Felicity until he could reverse his feminisation. Being trapped was all the more painful when there was no visible lock. The stupid fucking kids bike was making him complicit in his own captivity. Marcus came across a playground at the end of the street and with no other options to kill an hour with, he entered it feeling an unwelcome fear rising in his chest. He was an adrenaline junkie, but the fear of mixing with little kids and passing himself off as one of them more more nauseating than exhilarating. He sat on the bike one foot down while he surveyed the park. A small group of kids a few years older than his supposed new age were milling around the swings shouting and laughing at each other as they seemed to be trying to outdo each other for height records, and a young girl about his apparent age was playing with a boy a few years younger than her on a climbing castle. The playground was filled with all sorts of equipment, swings, slides, seesaws and a sandbox. Marcus's heart was pounding as he slowly approached the group of children on his bike. They all seemed around the same age but 'seem' seemed so deceptive now that he was in the body of a young girl. He may look like one of their peers, but he couldn't see himself having a prolonged discussion about the intricacies of electric race bikes with any of the kids here, and he expected that whatever they might like he would likely have never even heard of. As Marcus approached to equipment in the centre of the park, the girl playing on the castle simply walked up to him with the total lack of concern she immediately started talking to him. "Hi there! What's your name? I'm Sarah. I haven't seen you around here before. Those are cool shoes." She fired off a round of quick questions like she was interviewing candidates for the position of friend. Sarah was a cute little girl, with curly black hair, and big brown eyes. She was wearing a blue cotton dress, and a matching hairband that held her hair back. She seemed to be a very outgoing and cheerful kid. And what he assumed was her little brother looked at him blankly. Marcus trying to keep up his cover, figured this was as good a time as any to see how he would go dealing with real children while looking like one. "Hi, My name is Felicity. I..." he said before coming to an awkward halt mid sentence. His natural instinct for some stupid reason was to try and put on a kids voice, but given Moroders attention to highly skilled and detailed butchery it just made him sound weird. It was a hat on a hat so to speak. "Hummp,..sorry" He faked a cough like he was clearing his throat and spoke normally "I'm Felicity, pleased to meet you," he said and held out a hand, which Sarah took and shook enthusiastically. "I just moved to this street with my Mother." "Hi Felicity. That's such a cool name. Oh cool, I live on this street too! Is that bike new? Was it a present?...when's your birthday? What do you like to do for fun?" Sarah asked. Marcus trying to come up with something on the fly that a little girl would say, blurted, "I like playing with dolls and watching cartoons."He said sounding like some kind of alien trying to pass itself off as a human girl child. He unable to think of anything less generic but Sarah seemed to have let it slide. "I love Paw Patrol too!" Sarah said happily. "My Mummy says its a bit young for me now, but Skye is so awesome. I like dolls too, we should play sometime, that would be great! Do you want to play on the castle with me and Timmy?" Marcus tried to keep up with her scatter gun busts of inquiries and insights. "Sure, that would be nice I guess," he answered noncommittally, but that was a binding contract for play as far as Sarah was concerned and she took his hand and pulled him towards the climbing rope net. Marcus decided to let Sarah take the lead and just try to keep up with her. This might actually be useful practice. As they played on the equipment together, Sarah continued to ask Marcus a lot of questions, and Marcus tried his best to answer trying to keep up the charade of being a little girl. Sarah was quite talkative reminding Marcus of his older sisters kid Brianna and he found himself stealing some of her life stories and interests and passing them off as his own in order to make this Felicity disguise believable. Brianna liked unicorns and Barbies and so therefor did Felicity. He did find himself being surprised with just how much mobility his new frame had. He might not be strong, and his feeble struggles againt Ruth's punishments had proven that, but he was able to pull his tiny frame rapidly up the equipment and his legs and arms had a very wide range of motion. He could almost bring a foot climbing up the netting to chest height. As he played with Sarah and Timmy on the equipment he had to be careful not to slip up and fall out of character. But what character did a ten year old girl actually have? Marcus just didn't know. Being a professional criminal he was good at lying naturally, but pretending to be a little girl was a whole different level of deception he just didn't have the skill set for. That said, it seemed that just letting her take the lead was working depressingly well. Since he wasn't talking much, Sarah had taken it upon herself to talk enough for both of them. Sarah seemed to be looking for a friend and most of her questioning seemed focused on Felicity filling that role. She was excited to have found a new playmate on her street and her age too, but Marcus could only despair at the thought of having to maintain this cover for an extended amount of time with her. After his companions Barbie wrist watch showed it was 90 minutes since he had been thrown out to play, Marcus began to say his good byes to Sarah and Timmy. Sarah hugged him good bye after extracting a promise he would play with her and her brother again. And he clambered onto the stupid little bike glad to get away from the children he had been blending in with so depressingly effectively. When he got back into the house Ruth came up telling him to get a quick bite to eat if he needed but they were going out in an hour. "Going where?" Marcus asked. "To get you enrolled in Dubois's Ballet Studio. You'll be doing evening classes five nights a week to get you up to scratch as soon as possible. "I'm not going to ballet class Ru-Mum, I can't," Marcus said, his voice filled with anger and embarrassment as he corrected himself. "I'm not a little girl, and I'm not going to prance around in a tutu like one. There has to be some other way to get into the museum. We've hit harder targets in the past. Harry can-" Ruth, however, was insistent. "You will go to ballet class Felicity" she said talking over him, her voice dismissive of his protest. "It's part of your new identity and it's integral to the heist," Ruth said grabbing her car keys. "You need to be competent enough at dancing to pass the studio audition and that will require a lot of learning and practice starting from now. So get your ballet bag we're leaving now," She walked to the door, her keys and handbag in hand, opened it and looked at Marcus. "Well? I'm waiting," She said standing by the door. Marcus dejectedly picked up the pink and white bag containing his loathsome new dance clothes and followed her out to the car. As they walked into the dance studio, Marcus couldn't help but feel his stomach drop. The smell of rosin and the sound of piano music filled the air, and he couldn't help but feel out of place. Ruth, on the other hand, seemed completely at ease as she chatted with the receptionist and filled out the necessary paperwork. Madame Dubois, the Ballet Mistress, approached them with a warm smile. She was at least Ruth's age if not more, with a svelte figure in her simple black leotard. "Welcome to my studio," she said, extending her hand to Ruth. "I understand you're interested in enrolling your daughter in our classes?" Ruth nodded, her hand still gripping Marcus's tightly. "Yes, she's very interested in dance and I want to give her every opportunity to excel." Madame Dubois's smile faltered slightly as she looked at Marcus. He could tell she was taking in his sullen expression and the way he was trying to pull his hand away from Ruth's grasp. "I see," she said, her voice measured. "And what level of experience does your daughter have?" Ruth hesitated for a moment before answering. "None, she's never done ballet before. But she's eager to learn and I know she'll do whatever it takes to improve." Madame Dubois nodded, her expression thoughtful. "I see. Well, we do have beginner classes for children her age. But I have to be honest, it will be a lot of work for her. Ballet is not an easy discipline, and it requires dedication and hard work." Marcus could feel his face growing red with embarrassment. He knew Madame Dubois was right, and he also knew he wasn't dedicated or disciplined. At least not as far as ballet was concerned. He just wanted this to be over so he could try and claw his old life back. "I understand," Ruth she said firmly. "And we're willing to do whatever it takes to make this work. Felicity is shy, but she has wanted to be a ballerina since she was seven," Ruth said, inventing his ballerina dream backstory on the fly. Madame Dubois gave a small nod, her expression softening. "Alright then, I'll have my assistant get her set up with a schedule and we'll see how it goes. But please keep in mind, if she's not making progress, I may have to ask her to leave the class," Marcus's heart sank as he listened to Madame Dubois's words. This heist was relying on him getting into the showcase and this woman seemed to think he wasn't even good enough for the classes. Madame Dubois took them on a tour of the studio, showing them the various dance rooms, the barre and the mirrored walls. As they walked, she explained the strict rules and expectations of her students, the hours of practice and the dedication required to succeed. Marcus felt his stomach turning, he knew he'd never be able to do this. Finally, they arrived at Madame Dubois's office where a brief discussion on the finer details of Felicity's enrolment were finalised. Ruth promised that Felicity would do whatever it took to succeed, no matter how hard it may be. Marcus could only nod in mute agreement, feeling like a trapped animal as he was led to the change rooms to get ready. Martin stood in the change room of the ballet studio, feeling dejected and embarrassed. He couldn't believe that he was in this situation. Forced to take ballet lessons in order to maintain his cover as a 10 year old girl. He glared at his reflection in the mirror, taking in the pink leotard and tights that he was now wearing. His hair in a simple ponytail. His clothes were tight and uncomfortable, and he felt exposed in them. As he changed into his ballet shoes, he couldn't help but think about the life that he used to have. He was once a successful robber, a master lock picker and hacker. From safe cracker to Nut Cracker. He was nothing more than a pawn in Harry's twisted game. He couldn't believe that he had been so foolish to trust Harry, to let him talk him into this insane plan. As he made his way out to the studio floor Marcus felt like his world has just gotten a whole lot smaller. He could feel the eyes of the other students on him. He knew that they were all wondering who the new girl was, and he could sense their curiosity and judgement. It was only a bit over an hour ago he had first mingled with children in his new childish form and now he was being thrown into the deep end with a gaggle of small girls all looking at the interloper in a leotard and tights among them. He tried to ignore them and focus on the lesson, but it was hard. He had never taken ballet before, and he felt awkward and uncoordinated. The class was led by a strict and no-nonsense ballet instructor, Madame Natasha. She was a tall slender woman with long dark hair pulled back into a bun. She had a sharp and piercing gaze that seemed to take in everything at once and a sexy french accent did things to Marcus. She greeted the class with a curt "Bonjour, mes enfants," and began the class with a series of stretches and warm-up exercises. Marcus struggled to keep up with the class, feeling self-conscious and out of place. He had never danced like this before and the movements felt foreign to him. Madame Natasha went over the basic positions of ballet, such as first second and fifth position, as well as demi-plie and grand plie. And then Marcus and the rest of the girls were led to try and copy Madam Natasha in unison. He could see the other girls effortlessly executing these positions and he felt like he was floundering. As the class progressed, Madame Natasha continued to introduce them the basic steps of ballet. Marcus struggled to keep up, feeling clumsy and uncoordinated. He could see the other girls effortlessly gliding across the floor, executing the basic and even a few advanced steps such as tendu, glissade, and jete. Madame Natasha was relentless, pushing him to do better and correcting his every move. Ruth watched from the benches with a proud smile as Marcus awkwardly went through the new stances and some basic moves. Finally, the class came to an end, and Madame Natasha dismissed the class with a curt "A demain, mes enfants." Marcus felt relieved that it was over, but also knew he had to come back tomorrow and face the same embarrassment all over again. Madam Natasha called him back as he went to leave. "Felicity, a word please?" she asked. Marcus wilted at his new name coming accented from the women he had been idly imagining bending over and fucking as she instructed him in. "You have very good flexibility for a girl new to ballet and your plies as not bad at all, but your arms are all over the place. When you hold your arms out, try to move more like a princess and less like a truck driver OK?" Marcus blushed "We can work on your port de bras tomorrow." She flashed a radiant smile at him and he was lost in her eyes for a moment. "Your mother has your lesson plan, so stick to that and I'm sure you'll see a lot of progress. Now go get changed mon ch?ri and I'll see you tomorrow." In a daze Marcus walked into the change rooms and was suddenly found himself standing among a scrum of half naked girls far too young for him to be looking at. He stared down at the floor and awkwardly made his way to his bag. He didn't want to get undressed in front on his new peers, even though he would look identical to them, maybe even because he now looked like them. He simply pulled his daisy T shirt over his leotard and stepped into his pink shorts once more before pulling his shoes on over his tights and then he walked out as quickly as he could without running. As he made it out the door he leaned back on the wall in the corridor to collect himself. Within the change room he heard a muffled discussion among the girls and then round of laughter. Maybe he was just being paranoid, but he strongly doubted it. He was almost able to blend in with them on the floor, but the change room was intimidating in a way he didn't imagine was possible. He walked out to the entrance and Ruth stood up when she saw him approach. "You were really good out there Felicity," she said enthusiastically. "Yeah good, now let's get out of here for fucks sake," he said. "Language Felicity," Ruth warned quietly. At home, Ruth made them dinner, just a simple fried rice and some chicken in a packet satay sauce, but after his long workouts all day, his small body ached all over and he needed a refuel so he wolfed it down quickly. "Time for you to do the dishes I reckon," Ruth said as he emptied his plate and made to leave the table. "Just leave em I'll get em later," Marcus said dismissively. "It wasn't a discussion Felicity. You'll get up and do them now like I told you to young lady," Ruth retorted, her voice full of soft polite maternal suggestion mixed with a volcanic mountain threatening the ability to blow up without warning. "Fine," Marcus said, unaware he was doing a fairly automatic impression of a ten year old reacting to an ultimatum. He stood up and collected the dishes and took them into the kitchen, the sink was a little to high for his four foot frame, but he muddled through. "Wheres your leotard and tights? I'm putting the machine on to do a load," asked Ruth loudly from another room. "I'm still wearing them!" he replied as he washed the plates trying not to drench himself. "Ahh," Ruth said smiling as she came into the kitchen. "Growing to like the uniform already, that's good sweetheart. I'm proud of you." "No! It's not that it's just that,..I, I didn't want to,..ohh forget it!" he threw up his hands in despair "Just drop it will you please?" Marcus asked wearily. Once he had finished the dishes Ruth told him to do an hours practice before bed time. He didn't want to but he took out his ballet shoes and began to practice the basic steps. He moved clumsily and without grace as he bobbed up and down doing plie's. His muscles ached and he struggled to keep his balance. Marcus was already feeling the burn in his new, smaller legs. If he wanted any chance of restoring his body, he need's to make that heist work which meant convincing Madam to put him in the showcase. As he practiced he could hear Ruth moving around the house, and the anger and frustration built inside of him. He wanted to rebel, to lash out and tell her that he was sick of this bullshit, but he was frightened of being spanked by that woman again. He continues to practice into the night, determined to get better and maybe, just maybe, find a way out of this mess. He was determined to be up to the task of pulling off the museum heist, but practising at home in his little girl's room was a constant reminder of what he had become. He hated every moment of it, but he couldn't deny that he was already seeing a little ballerina in the mirror. As he twirled and leaped, Marcus couldn't help but think about all the changes that had taken place in just a few short days. His body was shorter and more delicate, his skin was smoother, and his face was elfin and pretty. It was all so surreal, and yet, here he was, practising ballet in his new bed room. At nine, Ruth told him to get ready for bed and she laid out sleepwear. Marcus wordlessly complied with Ruth and found himself standing in front of the mirror, staring at his new reflection. He could not see anything of himself in the mirror. Just a cute little girl dressed in a frilly pink nightgown her hair falling around her shoulders. He felt like a complete stranger in his own body. Ruth entered the room and sees the defeated look on his face. "Come on now Felicity, you need your rest. We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow. Come give Mummy a hug." Almost in a trance, not wanting to, but fearing reprisal, he walked over and wrapped his arms around Ruth. "Night night Felicity" Ruth said. "Night Night Mummy," Marcus replied automatically, hating himself as he did do. Marcus reluctantly climbed into bed, feeling completely out of place. As he drifted off to sleep, he couldn't help but think about the absurdity of his situation. He's a hardened criminal, a man who's pulled off some of the biggest heists in the country, and yet here he is, reduced to a little girl in a pink nightgown. Ruth watched over him clamber into bed in his nighty a small satisfied smile on her face. She's in control now, and she's going to make sure that Marcus, or Felicity as she now prefers to call him, plays his part well. She turns off the light and closes the door, leaving Marcus to his thoughts and dreams in his new identity as a young girl. And it wasn't long before Marcus was once again asleep in his fourposter bed, bathed in pink light. Marcus was sitting with his old friends at a bar, they were all laughing and joking, talking about women they had been with. "So I bent her over the back of her boyfriends Brabham and railed her," Marcus said proudly as he entertained his circle. "I mean I wasn't left with any other option was I," he said, laughing uproariously and his pack of fellow slut fuckers joined in. Feeling comfortable and at ease he smiled happily ensconced in the safe warm glow of his old life. The smell of tobacco, the flavour of liqueur, the sound and feel of heavy glasses on timber tables. The familiar faces and familiar tales, talk of former conquests and extreme sports, while he drank expensive whisky. Suddenly, he looked down and realised that he was wearing a ballet tutu over his well worn denim jeans. His friends laughed even harder. Marcus looked own at the light pink netting billowing out from under his state of the art biker jacket. "Ahh yeah, that's OK fellas it's all under control, That's being taken care of as we speak," he said to his coterie. "That's OK sweetie," said Darren as he grew larger. "You probably shouldn't be in here with us anyway, where's your daddy?" He felt embarrassed and confused. He tried to speak, to tell them that he was still a man, but his voice was high and childlike. He looked around the room and saw that he was now in a ballet studio, surrounded by young girls in tutus pointing and laughing at him for his poor demi- plie technique. Marcus could take no more and he just screamed. He stood with his legs in 2nd position, his hands balled into fists and screamed a long shrill note. He woke up from the dream in a cold sweat. He was horrified with the way it made him feel, with his heart still pounding in his tiny chest. He could still hear the laughter of his old friends echoing in his mind. The increasingly familiar surroundings of his new room now bathed in pink light from the nightlight plugged into the wall, dragged him screaming back into the present. Marcus is in a room fit only for a young girl, because for all intents and purposes he is a young girl. He had awoken from his imagined nightmare into the real one again. He was stuck as Felicity and there seemed to be no way of going back. He got out of bed and looked at himself in the mirror, seeing the blonde hair and small hands that now belonged to him. He remembered the feeling of being trapped in a tutu, being laughed at and treated like a little girl. He could feel tears starting to form in his eyes as he thought about how far he'd fallen, from a successful armed robber to a captive neophyte dancer. The following day after a long afternoon watching Netflix with parental locks preventing him from enjoying anything more mature than Scooby Doo, Ruth drove him to his second lesson. Madame Natasha took Marcus aside for some one-on-one instruction. She was strict and demanding, correcting his every move and pushing him to do better. She was concentrating on squeezing 'ze tom boy' out of him and getting him to strive for a more graceful and feminine stature. "Back to 5th position Felicity, I want to see that smile bigger, and bring the fingers out, when you change positions I want to see you moving like a graceful swan, not like a semaphore tower, be a fluidic, feminine and graceful, girl." Marcus cleared his mind of his conflicting feeling about Natasha's words, and tried to emulate his teacher, putting as much feminine poise into his hand moments and smile as he was able to muster without looking like a little drag queen. "Good work Felicity, your getting it now," Madam Natasha said, the compliment from her triggering a small quake of excitement in his gusset. Fucking hell I can't take this much longer, he thought trying to distract himself from his rapidly healing vagina. Moroder had said that full connection might take some time, well the amount of sensation he was feeling from his new sex was growing daily. He had to get a grip. She sent him to the barre to run through exercises designed to develop his leg and back muscles in the right way to give him the dancers body needed. Marcus struggled to keep up, feeling self-conscious and out of place. But as the lesson progressed, he began to pick up the basics of ballet. He started to understand the importance of proper form and technique, and he could see himself getting a little better. Despite his initial reluctance, he found himself starting to come to grips with the positions. He found that he was fitting in with the other girls at the barre and he was able to go into a plie almost as fluidly as they did, They were no longer laughing at him. He started to understand the beauty and grace of ballet and he could see himself becoming a better dancer. However, this realisation made him feel lost. He didn't want to be like the other girls and blend in, he was a man and he wanted to be treated like one. As Marcus continued the class, he found himself becoming increasingly attracted to Madame Natasha. He couldn't help but admire her grace, poise, and beauty and he desperately wanted to bend her over the barre and fuck her until she screamed out in that wonderful accent of hers. He found himself looking forward to her corrections and critiques, as it meant he would have her undivided attention. Despite his initial reluctance, he found himself starting to enjoy the class and looked forward to the next just for a chance to be near Natasha, and he was becoming a better dancer because of it. However, Marcus was also frustrated that he couldn't do anything about his attraction to Madame Natasha. He was stuck in this childlike body, and he knew that she would never see him as anything other than a child. He couldn't help but feel emasculated and powerless and unbearably horny. That night he found himself obsessing over Madame Natasha and he felt the muted tingling in his altered loins become less muted and more urgent. His hand strayed once more down to his altered sex and soon his tiny fingers were slipping in and out of his moistening cleft as he pictured Madam down on all fours lapping at his clit. He felt guilty for having these feelings and he tried to push them away, but they kept creeping back. He was living in a constant state of frustration and hornyness and his transplanted pussy would just not give him a moments rest. That night at some point between fighting and surrendering to his insistent cleft he finally fell asleep dreaming of Madam Natasha. ***** To Be Continued ***** Author's notes Thank you to all that read, and many more thanks to those who review/comment. You are literally one in one thousand. I'm not 100% sure where this story is going to be honest. One path is definitely darker than the other. The brewing battle of wills is ,..well brewing. But I'm unsure how palatable it might be. Suggestions and ideas are welcome.