This is the nastiest one I've written yet. It has faint echoes
of Vickie in it, and maybe even a little bit of Timothy Riesling
Betticut, if that's not boasting. :-) Okay to post & archive,
unless someone finds serious typos or other blunders.
After I had the story written & was in the middle of revising it,
someone else posted a story using the same gimmick. Oh, well;
can't be helped. This story isn't really the same, anyway.
I'm going to have to go back to my usual sweetness-&-light mode
after this. More smiling, happy little girl-boys. But for now....
Fantasy Gone Bad
Things that seem neat in your fantasies sometimes turn out not to be so neat if the fantasy becomes reality.
My fantasy was being forcibly feminized by a woman. I had a stash of women's clothes, and whenever I was out of town on business, I would sneak some things into my luggage. My fantasies, imagined in my motel room as I jerked off, were memorable. But I wanted more....
I came home from work that Friday and called out, as usual, "Honey, I'm home!"
But she was right there in the living room, and there was that look on her face that I knew spelled trouble.
"Sit down, James. We've got to talk."
Oh-oh. I'm usually Jim; James means real trouble. I sat down.
"I've been looking in your computer, James." My heart leapt up. Was this it? "I found all your encrypted files. You know, using `jim' as a key wasn't a very smart idea.
"You've been a pretty busy little boy, haven't you? Four hundred stories about transvestites downloaded from the Net. A few of them apparently written by you. And that correspondence...just how many of these `girls' do you know?"
This WAS it. Now the only question was whether it was going to work out according to plan. My plan.
"Well. Now that I finally know what kind of a man...well, what kind of a something...I married, things are going to change around here. A lot. Come on. We're going to your...boudoir."
Boudoir...? Somehow, during that one day, she had managed a complete transformation of my bedroom. The orange cafe curtains were gone, and in their place she had hung pink curtains with a pattern of little ballerinas in blue. At the top of each window there was a ruffled valence in the same fabric. The bedspread was in the same pattern. She had covered my desk with a lacy cloth and put a mirror over it, turning it into a vanity. My plan was working out better than I had expected.
"A girly room for a girly boy," she said. "Take off your clothes."
"Er...right now?"
"Of course I mean right now, you little pervert! Go on, strip!"
It looked as if it was going to work out according to plan. I pretended to object.
"Uh, dear, can we talk this over...? I can explain everything."
"Look, James, let me paint the picture for you. I've not only decrypted those files, I've printed them out. All the correspondence, and the beginnings of a...well, a representative sample...of those stories you've downloaded. The printout is in a sealed box at my lawyer's. Either we play this my way, or that lawyer is going to take you for every cent you have--and ruin your reputation into the bargain."
This was going according to plan, all right, but I was nervous, just the same. I hadn't thought of lawyers. I started to undress. While I was doing that, Sarah was opening parcels which, I now saw, were stacked on the floor next to the bed. When I was naked, she handed me a garter belt.
"All right, girl. Here's what we're going to do. From now on, we're going to dress you up just like the girl you want to be. I don't know where you keep your little wardrobe. Well...I think I do. I think it's in that locked trunk in the attic--the one you said contained your Lodge uniform. I tried all the obvious combinations on the lock, but you were a little smarter with that than you were with your files.
"It doesn't matter, in any case. You aren't going to choose what you're going to wear, any more. I am. Put this on."
The garter belt was white, with lace panels on the sides. I'm always excited when I dress, and even now, scared but expectant, my hands were trembling. She opened another bag and produced a pair of fishnet stockings. Without a word, she handed them to me. I put them on. She looked at them.
"You're going to have to shave your legs tomorrow morning. Here, this comes next." And she handed me a pair of panties. Shiny white satin, with ruffles around the leg openings. I decided I had better whine some more.
"Aw, come on, honey. Don't make me do this."
"James, you don't have any choice. Now stop complaining and put them on."
I put them on, enjoying, as I always did, the soft feel of the fabric on my hands. She handed me a matching white bra.
"You're a real expert at this, aren't you?" she said as she watched me snap the bra around my chest and then turn it around so the cups were in front. "I can see you've had lots of practice." I had.
"Now, let's see...." She rummaged in the parcels. "Here we are. They're kind of cheap," she went on, holding up a pair of breast forms, "but then, you're going to look kind of cheap when I get done with you."
I hadn't ever used breast forms. I stuffed my bras with socks. It took some maneuvering to get them into the cups and the bra straps around my shoulders.
"Here," she said, handing me a blouse. A garish red, with more ruffles. I put it on. Finally, she got out a black leather miniskirt. It struck me that everything fit perfectly. Well, of course; she bought most of my regular clothes for me, and she must have had no trouble choosing the appropriate sizes for these new things.
"Now turn around and let me look at you." I turned around. "Aren't you just the perfect girl! Let's see...we need a girl's name for you. I think Janyce will do. Spelled with a y. Okay, Janyce, here are your heels."
She handed me a pair of pumps with five-inch heels. Gold.
"There you are! Quite the little hooker, aren't you? Now, see if you can walk in those things." I had no trouble walking; I had walked in heels plenty of times. I always liked the way they made my hips sway.
"How are you at putting on makeup?"
"Er...well...I've had...a little practice...."
"I'll bet you have. Go on; everything's there. I want plenty of rouge on your cheeks."
I applied foundation, blush, eyeshadow, mascara, and lipstick. When I was done, she said,
"Well, Janyce, you're never going to fool anybody. You look just like a silly man in drag."
She was right. I looked awful. But then, I always did, and when I went off on business trips and dressed in my motel room, I never looked in the mirror. As long as I didn't see how I looked, I could imagine myself as a pretty girl.
She made me sit around in that outfit all evening. At bedtime, she had me make love to her like a lesbian. Well, I loved eating her out at any time, and doing so while dressed as a girl was one of my favorite fantasies, one I had never been able to carry out in reality, until now. After she was satisfied--and it took a nice, long time--she cleaned up and then got out a nightie for me to wear. It was pink, with lace. I recognized it from a Frederick's Of Hollywood catalog I had seen. I had liked that nightie and had planned to order one. Now I wouldn't have to. Life was going to be fun, I decided.
Saturday morning I shaved my legs, my chest, and my underarms. Sarah had me put on a funny contraption that, I realized, was a gaff to keep my cock and balls out of sight. I had heard of gaffs but never seen one. Then she had me put on a pair of black stockings and a teddy. The teddy was bright red, trimmed with black lace. Then she stopped. I looked at her questioningly.
"Oh, no, Janyce. That's it. You're going to wear just that all day long. I want you to look like the slut you are."
My plan was working out very well indeed. I decided breakfast was the time to break it to her.
"Okay, honey," I said, "You've had your say. Now I'm having mine. You've been set up, my dear.
"I chose a simple encryption key deliberately, to make it as easy for you as I could. You were meant to discover those files; I figured you would, sooner or later.
"You see, my fantasy is forced feminization. It's fun getting dressed up, but for me it's more fun if someone forces me into it. I went to a professional domme once, and she really put me through the wringer. But she was expensive, and I thought that maybe I could maneuver you into doing the job instead. I chose an obvious password to make sure you would be able to read everything I had. And I've succeeded. I only wonder what took you so long."
She stared at me.
"You little bitch!" she finally said. Then she went on. "And was that meeting with the woman--at least, I think it was a woman--you were going to...`serve,' I think was your word for it...the woman you wanted to serve while dressed as a woman yourself--was that setting me up, too? You've been a busy little girl, haven't you?"
Jesus. I thought I had encrypted that exchange with a different key. How could I have been so careless?
"But that was nothing but talk," I objected. That was true; the meeting had never come off.
"More fantasy, you mean? It sounded mighty real to me. But we'll see. And we'll see who has the last laugh. I've got big plans for you, Girl. And you're going to find that they're a lot bigger than you bargained for."
That sounded nice. Part of my fantasies always consisted of being made to do just a little more than I wanted to. As for a lot more, I doubted whether she could. I didn't think she, or anybody, could plan anything wilder or more fantastic than the ones I had imagined many times. I was wrong.
I spent all day Saturday in that teddy. It was a lovely experience. It seemed that every time it looked as if I was going to forget what I was wearing, I would catch sight of myself in a mirror. A man in drag. A man in a red teddy and black stockings. The gaff was the only problem. It was uncomfortable, and every time I saw myself in a mirror, I would start to get hard, and then the discomfort became acute. But then I would just look down at my crotch and admire the smooth, uninterrupted curve of the teddy as it went down and back between my legs. It was worth the discomfort. Why hadn't I gotten one of these things, I wondered.
That evening I began to discover just how far Sarah was prepared to go. After dinner, she changed clothes. She was putting on evening wear. When I raised my eyebrows, she said,
"Oh, yes, Janyce. We have company."
"Company...! When? I've got to get out of this and put on some regular clothes!"
"No, Girl, you don't have to do any such thing. You're going to greet our guests wearing exactly what you have on. That and more makeup."
My heart raced. I was horrified, but, at the same time, excited. This was REAL forced feminization. Feminization, and humiliation--before company! I had never imagined this, not in my wildest fantasies.
But when the guests arrived...they were my boss and her husband! Bess, my boss, was dressed as formally as Sarah was, and her husband was wearing a suit. And I was still in my teddy.
"Well," Bess said, advancing on me with a grin on her face, "is this the little lady? Sarah, this is better than I expected. You've really outdone yourself."
My God! She had been expecting this! How long had she known?
"Thank you, Bess. She does look like a regular little whore, doesn't she? Her name's Janyce, by the way. James doesn't live here any more."
Then she spoke to me. "Janyce, this whole thing goes back farther than you think. I discovered those files late last year, and I've been monitoring them ever since. It took me some time to decide what to do with you. But when I met Bess and Steve at your office party, I knew what I'd do. Steve and I have been having an little thing going for some time, and since Bess enjoys threesomes, it's been a three-way affair. I told them about you two weeks ago, and we planned this evening for you...well, actually for us."
She had me be the hostess for the evening, setting out snacks and bringing drinks. It was "Janyce, my drink needs freshening up," "Janyce, girl, why don't you pass the peanuts to Bess?" "Janyce, you're too far away from everybody sitting over there. Come over here and sit at my feet. On second thought, sit at Bess's feet."
We sat and talked, or rather, they sat and talked while I waited on them, for about an hour. Then Sarah suddenly said,
"I think Janyce is ready to entertain us."
Sarah had me get up, took my hand, and led me into my boudoir, as she insisted on calling my bedroom. The Johnsons followed. "Get on the bed, girl," Sarah said. "You'll find the bottom of that teddy unsnaps. Undo it." And Mr and Mrs Johnson started taking off their clothes.
I reached down and released the crotch of the teddy.
"All right," she said, turning to the Johnsons, "who wants to go first?"
"Ladies first," Mr Johnson said.
"No, dear," Bess said, "I want to see her pretty lips on your cock. I'll find that much more exciting, and then I'll be able to enjoy her myself more."
"Now wait a minute...!" This time I wasn't faking. Forced crossdressing was one thing, but having sex with another man...!
"Janyce, I told you my plans were going to be more than you bargained for. You want to be a girl? Okay, girl. Girls have sex with men, and you're going to let Steve have his way with you."
Mr Johnson came over to the bed, climbed on it, and knelt straddling my chest.
"Girls like to give blow jobs, Janyce," he said, thrusting his hard cock at my face.
Sarah was right. This was entirely beyond anything I had bargained for. But then I remembered her lawyer and all those incriminating documents.
There was something more, too. The essence of forced feminization is getting more than you had bargained for; I had learned that from the professional domme I had visited and who had done the most extraordinary things to me. And, in spite of my aversion, the thought of being controlled and forced was turning me on. I opened my mouth into an O and felt Mr Johnson's erection between my lips.
Feeling his penis in my mouth turned me back off again.
But I had no choice. Mr Johnson fucked me in the mouth until he came. I recognized the taste; as a boy I used to taste my own after masturbating. I felt my mouth filling with his juices; then I swallowed them down.
Bess--my boss--was next. She had a lovely pussy, and after watching her husband she was dripping wet. She lowered herself onto my mouth and I began to feast. This was better. Much better. Being forced to eat out a strange woman while dressed as a girl...that was the scene I had tried to set up which my e-mail friend and hadn't been able to.
I was lapping away at her when I felt hands on my legs, lifting them into the air. Then somebody smeared something on my butt. I had no sooner realized what was going on than I felt a sharp pain in my asshole and knew that I was being fucked. With Bess's pussy on my face, I couldn't see what was going on, and it was only afterward that I learned that it had been Sarah, using a strap-on dildo.
Sarah finally withdrew the dildo. Mr Johnson must have been hard again, because I heard him saying to Sarah, "Don't you think it's time you had some fun, honey?" When Bess finally got off my face, I looked over at the other bed and there was Mr Johnson fucking my wife's brains out.
It was an unforgettable evening.
Sunday was like Saturday, except that Sarah had a dress for me to wear.
On Monday morning, Sarah gave me a pair of panties to wear under my suit. "You're going to have to disguise yourself as a man," she said, "but there's no reason why you shouldn't be the girl you really are underneath."
I wondered how I was going to face work and Bess.
I soon found out. After the ten o'clock coffee break I got a call from Bess's secretary. "Jim, Mrs Johnson would like to see you in her office." Was I going to be fired?
No. When I came in, Bess told her secretary we weren't to be disturbed. When the door was shut, she smiled at me.
"That was quite a performance, Jim...or should I say, Janyce? You have skills we hadn't known about when we hired you. Now you're going to have a new responsibility here. It's called Keeping The Boss Happy. You might as well start right now.
"You see this chair next to my desk?" She indicated an ornate chair with a big hole in the middle of the seat. "It's called a chaise percee. Sarah and I saw it in an antique store, and we thought of you. In the old days, before indoor plumbing, the aristocracy used these. Under that opening in the seat there used to be a chamber pot. But with this chaise percee, you are going to be under the opening. Now strip down to your panties and get down there!"
I went to the chair. She had arranged a small box with a pillow on it under the chair. When I managed to lie on the floor with my head resting on the pillow, my mouth was just under the opening in the chair. It was a fearfully uncomfortable position. Bess lifted her skirts and sat down. "Okay, Janyce girl, time for you to go to work. You know what to do."
Her sex was planted right on my face, and it gradually blossomed under my ministrations. I had forgotten what a rich and delicious flavor her secretions had. I had been eating her out for about five minutes when I heard her talking. I realized she was on the phone.
"Hi, Sarah! Just wanted to thank you for your hospitality Saturday night. We had a terrific time. Oh...and guess where your slutty little girl is right now.... No, she's under my chair right now. Yes, that chair. I've introduced her to her new position of Company Slut.... [laughs] I haven't asked her.... Well, she's licking and eating away with--oooh! Ooooh, God!--a will and a rhythm.... Look, why don't you and Janyce come over on Friday night. Steve and I talked it over.... Okay.... No, come for dinner. I'll cook, as usual, but we'll have Janyce serve us.... Okay.... Okay.... Bye."
I must have brought her to half a dozen orgasms before she let me go. By that time my face was covered with her juices.
After she had come down from the excitement, she said, "That's very good, Janyce. You were never much of a man, according to Sarah, but you're a terrific girl. This will be one of your regular duties from now on. Maybe we can get my administrative assistant in on this, too."
My God! Suzie--her assistant--was the biggest gossip in the company. If Bess got her into these games, word of it would be all over the place within an hour. I was beginning to have second thoughts about feminization. And I remembered what Sarah had said: bigger plans than I had bargained for.
As it worked out, our games didn't include Suzie, after all. But what awaited me when I got home was worse. Sarah had invited two of our neighbors over, and the moment I walked in the door, she said,
"Here she is, girls! This is Janyce, my slutty husband. Janyce, drop your pants and let them see your pretty panties."
I thought of her lawyer's office again and sighed. I unbuckled my belt, undid my trousers, and let them fall. The women burst out laughing.
"Ooooh, what a pretty girl!" one of them said. The other asked, "Is she wearing a bra, too?"
"No, but she's going to be in just a minute. Janyce, get your pretty little ass out to your boudoir and put on your breast forms and your bra!"
I did as I was told. When I came back, I was wearing nothing but my bra and panties. Sarah said, "All right, Janyce, I understand you did some pretty interesting things for your boss at work today. Now, lie down there on the floor and do them for us."
As I lay there, Arlene, one of the neighbors, lifted her skirt and slip and removed her panties. She trailed them over my face. "Like that?" she asked. "Sniff them, girl. You're going to get a good deal more than that in a second."
And without another word she squatted over my face and started rubbing me with her vulva. She quickly became aroused, and, as her labia parted, she rubbed harder. "Use your tongue, girl!" she said. "What do you think God gave you a tongue for?"
I used my tongue. There was a trace of stale urine on her, but it was immediately lost amid the flavors of her juices. As she rocked back and forth on my face, she made little noises, which gradually got louder and louder until she gave a little yelp.
That was my appetizer for dinner that evening. They took turns--Arlene, Nancy, and Sarah, over and over again. As soon as one had been temporarily satisfied, another was on my face. My tongue began to get tired, and still they were on me, one after the other.
After it was all over, Arlene said, "This is great, Sarah! Let's get Sandy and Terri over here some afternoon."
"Right!" Sarah said. "Saturday okay?"
So that was my week. Servicing Bess every morning in the office, and some afternoons, too, and servicing Sarah before dinner and again at bedtime. I had to wear panties under my suit every day at the office, and in the evenings I mostly wore just a bra and panties in whatever color Sarah seemed to be in the mood for. Some nights I slept in my panties; other nights I wore my lacy, pink nightie.
Friday night, at the Johnsons', was pretty much a replay of that first evening when they come over to our place. But Saturday afternoon was an orgy, more extravagant than anything I had ever dreamed of in my wildest fantasies. There were five women there--Arlene, Nancy, Sandy, and Terri, along with Sarah, and they took turns using me in my boudoir. I thought they would never get tired. They took me in pairs, one over my face and the other with a strap-on in my butt. I had a wild erection at the start, which made a ridiculous bulge in my panties; but then, as I began to get fatigued it grew limp again.
Then Terri had the idea that it would be fun to tweak my nipples. She undid my bra and took off the breast forms, and I was hard all over again. She pinched my nipples, she rolled them between her fingers, she dug her fingernails into them. And all the time I felt the strap-on probing deeper and deeper into my gut as one or another of the women rode my face.
My mouth was numb and there were black and blue marks on my tits when they finally grew tired, and I was bleeding a bit from my asshole.
"Sarah," Sandy said, "you're a real benefactor. You've given all of us something we've badly needed for a long time." And there was a chorus of thanks from all the women.
Sunday afternoon Sarah sent me over to Arlene's. "She and George have had a fight and George has left for the afternoon. You'll console her." And off I went, to get a pussy facial from Arlene.
Monday morning there was a glass of orange juice at my place at breakfast. "You know I don't drink orange juice in the morning...," I began to say.
"Shut up," Sarah said. "You'll need that to wash down your pills."
"Pills...? What pills?"
"Hormones," she said, handing me two little purple pills. "I told you our scheme was going to be more than you anticipated. You want to be a girl; I'm going to make you into one."
"That's out of the question," I said. "Don't even think of making me take those."
"My lawyer...," Sarah began.
I took the pills.
That evening saw something else new. After Sarah had had enough of my mouth, she stayed on me. "Women's urine contains female hormones, too, I understand. Something else you didn't bargain for. Get ready to drink." And she peed into my mouth. I was caught by surprise as the hot stream poured into me. But we were on my bed again, and if I didn't swallow I would have to sleep in piss-soaked bedding. I swallowed.
That was just the beginning of it. After that, a couple of times a week, Sarah would come into my "boudoir" in the middle of the night, shake me awake, and say, "I've got to take a leak." And she must have passed word of this on to Bess, because she discovered a new, and more traditional, use for her chaise percee.
I spent the next couple of months in a strange dither of anticipation and fear. It was exciting but scary. It was exciting when she dressed me in more and more extravagantly feminine things; it was exciting when she sent me out on errands to service various women in her circle, especially when she began to send me out dressed as a girl. But it was scary, being introduced to an ever-widening group of neighborhood women and realizing that my feminization was becoming common knowledge among the women on the block. And, to judge by the looks I got, among some of the men, too. And it was also scary wondering what enormity she would dream up next.
I felt, too, that there was some kind of culmination in the offing. Sarah hinted at it darkly sometimes, saying things, like "When your preparation is complete...," or, worse, "When we've finished with you...."
And increasingly she simply out-and-out denied my manhood. "You never were a man," she told me one evening. "I should have realized that before I married you." And, worse yet, "Steve is ten times the man you are."
Finally, one Sunday afternoon, there was a big gathering at our place. Bess was there, and all of the women Sarah had had enjoying my favors. I knew something special was in the wind, because for the first and only time, she had me stark naked instead of in some kind of women's clothes.
And there wasn't any of the social chitchat that usually preceded one of my afternoons of submission. And we didn't go to my boudoir. Instead, as soon as everybody was there, Sarah told me to lie on my back on the living room floor.
"Today is the day you make the Supreme Sacrifice, Janyce," she said. "But first, we're going to have a little fun with our girly boy."
Two of the women grasped my legs, lifted them up, and held them so my feet were at about shoulder level. My ass was exposed, and they must all have seen the butt plug that Sarah had put in me that morning.
Then the women took turns with my balls. Sarah got a wooden spoon from the kitchen, and they hit them with it, again and again. When I started to cry out, Sarah took off her panties and stuffed them into my mouth. So this was the "Supreme Sacrifice," I thought. I didn't like it. Not at all.
When they had had their fill of swatting my balls, Sarah said, "Jerk off."
"Huh...?" I was mystified. Sarah had never let me have sexual release in front of her guests before.
"You heard me, girl. Jerk off. Get your hands on that teeny weenie of yours and start jerking."
Naturally, between the pain in my balls and the cold fear that began to grip me, I couldn't get it up.
"You're such a disgusting little cunt," she said. "Bess, sit on her face." Bess dropped her panties and squatted over me. "Yvonne, why don't you play with her tits?"
That did it. The hormones had made my nips--which were now highlighting the start of a nice pair of boobies--abnormally sensitive. As I felt her fingers on them, tweaking them and playing with them, I began to get hard. Bess's wonderful flavor completed the job, and I began to masturbate. I was completely oblivious to the comments the women were making as I did so; all I was aware of were the sensations on my mouth, on my nipples, and, increasingly, in my crotch. Suddenly I felt my balls pull up and the climax beginning to build deep within me, and I came. Powerfully. As never before in my life. Pulse after pulse, I felt the sperm jetting out of me. And someone was holding something over the head of my penis.
The throes came to an end. Bess got up, and Sarah held a little black rubber cup over my lips.
"Swallow," she said, as she poured my ejaculate out of the rubber thing into my mouth.
"I hope you enjoyed that," she said. "That's the last time." What did that mean?
I soon found out. I felt my cock grow limp and my balls relax as I came back down from my climax. Sarah got out a Hawaiian lei and put it around my neck. "They always put a garland on the sacrificial animal," she explained.
Then she held up a strange metal contraption and showed it to me. "See that little black rubber thing?" she asked. "That's for you."
All the women were now standing in a circle around me. And Sarah reached between my legs, put the metal fixture down there and pulled on my balls, hard. I yelped at the pain. But then she did something with the fixture, and I felt a searing pain at the base of my scrotum. I screamed through the panties that were still in my mouth. But the women, looking on, began to clap their hands and cheer. And the pain didn't go away. It remained and, in fact, became worse. It spread to my loins and all around, until everything between my legs groin seemed to be on fire.
Through the haze of pain, I heard Sarah talking to me. "That's called an elastrator," she said. "That's a tight little plastic O-ring you have around you, girl. They use it to castrate farm animals. It sits at the base of your sack and cuts off the circulation to your balls. In a week or so, they'll just fall off. A nice, neat, bloodless way of getting rid of them."
I stared at her. She couldn't mean this. Surely this was just a threat. Surely she'd take that diabolical thing, whatever it was, off of me. And then I realized; THIS was the "Supreme Sacrifice." Oh, my God!
"That's right," she went on, in response to my look. "That's your Supreme Sacrifice. You're going to be a girl for good, now. Forced feminization? You wanted it, and you've got it. You can kiss your balls goodbye. Or you could if you could reach them."
She poured drinks for the other women and raised her glass. "To the new girl on the block," she said, and the women all drank and clapped their hands again.
"You never were much of a man, anyway," she went on. "Think of how many times we've tried to have kids."
She removed the panties then, but I could hardly talk from the pain, and the horror that engulfed me. But finally, I managed to get out, "But my job...?"
"Oh, don't worry about that, Janyce," Bess said. "You're being terminated from your present position, but that's all right. We're keeping you on as a consultant. We get prospects from all over the country, and they like to have fun when they're here. You're going to be the fun. Consultant for Special Services: that's your new title."
I must have taken half a dozen aspirins that evening. Even so, the pain in my crotch was unbearable, and it was hours before I fell into a feverish, dream-tormented sleep.
I can't describe the agony of the days that followed. My scrotum turned black and then gradually shriveled up, and finally, one morning when I woke up, I felt some funny lumps in the bed, down near my feet. When I investigated, they turned out to be what was left of my scrotum and balls. They were a sickening sight, black and putrefying. And behind my penis there was nothing left but a neat little nubbin of flesh. That and a dull ache.
Sarah dresses me as a woman all the time now, of course. She threw out all my men's clothes. The hormones have softened my features a little, but I will always look like a man in drag. My breasts aren't large, but they're pretty respectable. My penis has shrunk considerably, too, but that doesn't matter, because it never gets hard any more. Sarah even makes me pee sitting down.
I still serve Sarah's women friends, either at parties or privately, on demand. And about once a month I'm called in to Bess's company for "consulting work." Each time, there are a bunch of customers, or maybe prospective customers, and I lie on a cot in the large conference room where they use me as their girl. The panties I wear on those days are crotchless.
Princess Pervette June, 1997