I walk to the Arts and Music building in complete shock. What had seemed like the perfect solution to begin with once again has me reeling. I guess it is not fully agreed to until I talk to Rosalyn, but I don’t think it would be good for me to tell Professor Finkel ‘no’ after she has gone to this much trouble. My only hope is that Rosalyn will not be agreeable after she meets with me…
My life had been dramatically transformed since that fateful day when Viv caught me wearing her clothes, and I had to accept that there was no going back. I was caught in a trap from which there was no escape. My body had undergone irreversible changes turning me into a shemale. And I hated it! Now Viv had indicated that she and Richard were going to find customers for me, customers who would subject my body to further indignities.
I sniffed back the anguish from JAVERT's accurate assessment of the situation. This was a costume of sorts. I had been masquerading...disguising myself...never fully at ease...never free from the torments...the markings on my body OR the nightmares. EVELYN was me OR I was EVELYN...it didn't really matter. There was no use trying to shed the part of me...that made up 'most' of me. Perhaps, before I went to sissy school...there may have been only half-Evelyn in me.
The next several days are a mix of narcotic sleep, tears, and near absolute depression. I am barely able to pull myself together enough to be civil to Selina and the others that come around. By the time the swelling has gone down enough for me to go back to work, I can barely convince myself to get up and face the day. At first, Selina ignores my funk—striking it up to ‘hormones’. But, as the days go on, she insists that I go back to see Marge.
Horrified! The stinging slap across my face jarred thousands of images in my head. It was like scrolling across a strip of images that I had hoped were long lost---buried deep on an erased hard drive, NEVER to be found again. Instead these images, all of them were moments of degradation and suffering from my days at sissy school, shot through my head in an instant. Each one registered a moment of pain in the nano-second that tabulated the stunned second of silence before I sobbed in reply:
My crotch was now flat with penis helplessly tethered between my legs---SECURED by a PADLOCK! The moment it was done I felt DEFLATED...the wind rushing out of my sails. I was beaten. My body was slumped in defeat as I waited for the form fitting shackles to be snapped onto my body. My forehead even pressed into the wall offering more of my neck up for the collar...that WAS NEXT, right?
Things settle into a sort of routine over the next week. I split my time between the salon and waitressing. Surprisingly, I do really well at making tips. Angie may be the ringleader of trouble at the Zone, but she is also a very good trainer when she wants to be, and she has decided to take me under her wing...
“Pamela-Jayne, thank Mistress Hypnos for helping you to accept what you’ve become, telling her exactly what you HAVE become. Tell her that you absolutely adore your body and tell her how much your body has changed.”
Although the truth was that I HATED what I’d become, HATED the way my body had been artificially modified and HATED my false girlie voice, I found myself obeying Viv’s command.
The car accelerated smoothly along the city streets until it reached a point where it could safely ascend into the air to join the local flyway. Having overcome my initial surprise of Rachael turning my peck on her cheek into a more intimate kiss, I responded with all the passion I could muster. My tongue explored her sweet mouth, entwining with hers.
“You fucking lesbians,” my husband exclaimed from his position on the floor. “Wait until you untie me. I’ll make you regret what you’ve done to me.”
I was shaking. The tip of my nose was pressed against the cool white plaster drywall of my loft apartment. My hands were on top of my head...and though she didn't ask me to lace my fingers together like they did on the cop show...I did it anyway. It hid the fact that my nails were still feminine. I had enjoyed keeping them short, but they were always buffed and polished---too well cared for to be the hands of a 'regular guy.' Had my hands betrayed me somehow? I shivered again with fear and my hands twitched atop my head.
As I listened to the demented woman on the other side laugh at how trapped I was, I couldn't help seeing the symmetry of things. SEVEN DEADBOLTS on the door....and my SEVEN YEARS of FREEDOM... Four of the Seven had been picked open, and she was steadily working on the last three. It was only a matter of time before the fitted collar was closed around my neck---taken from my EXACT measurements. Details of my life were in the hands of the school...not just my most intimate measurements...my most intimate fears. I had no secrets while at the school.
Slumped to the floor in a heap against the door...I took stock of what I was...a Satin-clad human doorstop. Erica Javert was a force of nature. Though our physical weights were close, I had seen her subdue large men before. It was part of the sick pageantry of being enrolled at Sissy school. If she put her hands on me, I was done. There was no use in calling for help. The benefit of this converted loft---privacy--now was a damning factor toward my potential capture. Police wouldn't help...JAVERT and her cronies had many of the law enforcement community on a pay-off system...
I was definitely UNSETTLED. My stomach was in knots at that early hour of the morning. Something was wrong. I felt it. Seven years ago, I had escaped from the madhouse that the Sissy school had ASSIGNED me to. The woman that they had placed me with was 'mostly' a monster. The part of her that wasn't...felt deep regret for her cruelty towards me.
I woke in a cold sweat. My chest was heaving as I gasped---gulped---huge swells of air. The satin nightgown that ended at my mid thigh was plastered to my body---stuck---like glue. Where was I? In my own bed? Yes...just another nightmare. I slumped back into a beaten pile of pillows and rolled the soggy sides underneath. My heart was still racing, but an awareness that I was alone...in my apartment...managed to control it somewhat. There was no use in staying in bed. Placing slippers on my feet I padded into the living room.
My husband’s secretary was still dressed as a schoolgirl while he was totally naked, both of them looking more and more embarrassed as I and my three former bridesmaids stood in his office looking at them. His embarrassment didn’t concern me at all, but I desperately wanted to eradicate his secretary’s embarrassment. After all, she was only eighteen, stunningly beautiful, and I wanted to get to know her better.
“What’s your name, my dear?” I asked her.
“Surely you didn’t come to work in those clothes?”
That first enema was excruciating! Both Viv and Richard must have had a sadistic streak running through them, since they kept me filled with the fluid from the enema bag for half an hour. It gave me the most horrific stomach cramps imaginable, and the relief was indescribable when I was finally allowed to evacuate my bowels. My relief was to be short lived as Viv decided to administer an additional two enemas, to ensure that her insides are thoroughly clean, she explained to Richard.
Christy starts by adding extensions to my hair and giving me a below-the-shoulder-length cut, along with adding some blond and red high and lowlights. When left down, it is decidedly feminine, feathered and layered—it is easily pulled into a ponytail, though, to hide the look.
I wake up early the next morning, disoriented and confused. My back hurts, my bed is lumpy, and the house is cold. Then I remember that I am in a tent in Selina’s back yard…that I no longer have a home, foster, or otherwise. The system has ‘set me free’…
It is my eighteenth birthday and Mom kicked me out of the house. Don’t get me wrong, my Mom loves me, but, as of today, all support for me has come to an end, since I decided to not go to college. Mom has told me, since I was sixteen that this day was coming—I guess I just did not believe her. The only Mom I ever cared for needs my room for another foster kid…
I was alone in the flat, sitting on my bed, naked, my arms stretched out horizontally and firmly secured to the bedhead, my legs spread wide and secured by ropes to the legs at the bottom of the bed. Clamps were biting painfully into my enlarged nipples which had had an evil fluid injected into them with a hypodermic needle. My cock, engorged in its cage, throbbing from the pain inflicted on it by studs pressing into it as it became harder and attempted to grow.
"Not yet old enough for a man, nor young enough for a boy;
As a squash is before tis a peascod, or a codling when ‘tis almost an apple:
‘tis with him in standing water, between boy and man"
~ Twelfth Night
i follow the instructions because i suspect we've no way out of this and not obeying would get us just into bigger troubles
well yes, i recognize it, the idea of dressing as a girl was getting me excited... but it was not just because of that
as i follow some guards i can't avoid looking behind trying to catch him coming having changed his mind... but he didn't
as we arrive miss diana offers me a seat next to her that i take
"you look beautiful on it, but it's improbable... we'll do it in a few"