Part 9

Being rendered helpless, particularly as completely as it had been done (by her own hand, with a little help from her friend), was a completely new experience for Tracy. She had expected her arousal to lessen once her friend left, but that didn’t happen. In fact, she had now been wearing the chastity belt for several hours, and it was doing its work on her–constantly holding and squeezing her genitals. She was very aware of her arousal and sexual frustration building and building. And there was nothing she could do about it.

Making matters worse were the gag and the weights on her nipples.

She had gagged many a submissive, and had even worn one herself for short periods, but never long enough to experience the psychological effects that being gagged can cause. It started as a feeling of alarm, her mouth being held open—jaws forced apart. She desperately wanted it out—but it was locked on and her hands were useless. And her tongue piercing just made matters worse. The alarm and panic soon melded into a helplessness, and finally an uncomfortable capitulation—she gave in to the unpleasantness of being gagged. Bound as she was, she was at its mercy.

And her nipples were on fire—it felt like her weighted piercings were tearing them from her chest. While the reality was that the weights were doing no damage, the pain and anxiety were very real. With every shift of her weight, they swung. Even when she breathed, they moved. There was no choice but to accept the pain, and to avoid moving as much as possible.

It was then that something interesting started to happen. Something that had never happened to her before. Tracy started helplessly drifting into something akin to subspace. And with this, she found her arousal accelerating.

“Please no, I don’t want this!” She thought. But something inside her did. Wanted it very much, in fact.

She cursed herself for having put herself in this predicament. Her arousal deepened.

She thought about her situation, and caught a glimpse at the gear on display around her. Oh hell! Why hadn’t she have been more careful? She throbbed beneath her belt as she realized that she might have to submit to any or all of the instruments she had put out for Bill.

She had unwittingly crafted the perfect trap for herself.

Part 10

When Bill returned to the apartment he called out for Tracy to let her know he was back. There was no answer. “That’s odd,” he thought. She must have stepped out.

He found the envelope on the table in the foyer, addressed to “Birthday Boy,” opened it and read the note. Parts of the note were cryptic, particularly about the keys, but he understood it well enough to know that she was asking him to put on his black robe and boxers and go to the back room. Easy enough.

“She must have something planned.”

He dressed as directed. When he opens the door to the room to find his “second” present, he is both astonished and surprised. It takes only a few short moments for a huge smile to form on his face.

Before him stands a real live fetish model, a sissy fetish model, restrained for his pleasure. He had never imagined such a thing.

“Tracy, is that you?”

She nods, feeling actual shame, and involuntarily projecting submissiveness.

“I’ve seen that dress before and know where it came from. Wow! How did you know? I mean, I never told you.”

She shrugs an “I don’t know.”

“I need to get a better look.”

He moves in closer and starts inspecting his gift.

She was right! He was into feminization. She knew right then that her darling Bill was, or at least had been, a sissy. So the Plan worked. Yea Tracy! But she was still dressed, bound and gagged. The Plan hadn’t fully taken that into consideration.

Bill seemed to be enjoying his treat. He circled behind her, noting her locked-on shoes, the lovely stockings and cuffs. Her panties and garter straps could be seen—the petticoated skirt high in the back. And he spied through the fabric of her panties the metal chains connecting between her legs, and, wait, a pink-jeweled plug buried in her lovely ass. My oh my!

Bill’s silence makes Tracy ever more nervous with worry. Though putting on a good face, she is dying inside and throbbing down below. She is afraid of what he might do to her, intensely aroused by the thought of it, and wondering how she could be feeling this way.

Bill is intrigued by the chastity chains, and reaches out to touch them. The touch of his hand fills Tracy with erotic shivers. His hand follows the chains to the shield.

“Is this what I think it is?” (Looking to her eyes.)

She nods meekly.

His other hand reaches around her waist and strokes down her front, first finding the waist belt and then the shields. He explores the shields with his fingers, finding that her panties are quite moist, drenched, in fact, his fingers now covered by a slippery wetness.

“Can you feel this? Down there?”

She shakes her head “no.” “Unfortunately,” she thinks.

“Interesting. Very interesting.”

He touches and explores it more.

“Still nothing?”

Again “no.”

He looks at his hand and rubs his thumb against the wetness on his fingers—

“Looks like something down there is excited. Very excited.”

Tracy starts to wish it wasn’t true, but then again, … .

“I wonder what other surprises we have?”

He examines the gag.

“I see this is locked on. Keys in the foyer?”

A nod “yes.”

“I like that.”

She shivers again, still not knowing where this is going.

He caresses her ass, finding and touching the jeweled end of the plug. The plug wiggles in response, and the internal movement unexpectedly causes almost an electric sensation back there. She wonders what signal her plugged ass sends to him.

“Very nice.”

She inhales sharply as he cups her breasts.

“What do I feel here?”

He peeks down the front of her dress and sees the piercings and weights.

“That is amazing! So pretty. But I bet those do hurt!” (Moving the weights ever so slightly from side to side.)

Tracy winces perceptibly.

“So this is my present? You, like this, my present?”

She nods, hoping he is pleased.

“Well I love it! Absolutely love it! You really shouldn’t have!”

Tracy couldn’t agree more with the last part!

All this time Bill was processing the scene. She knew he was submissive when it came to these games, and she had obviously figured out what his fetish had been. And here she was offering to submit to him on that basis. He could just unlock the bindings and let her go as he really wanted to fuck her right then and there. But no, that would be refusing his present, and might hurt her feelings. He could never do that.

So, fine, he would dominate her—she obviously wanted him to. And then he could fuck her!

He looks around—

“My god, look at all the toys!”

He had read and experienced enough in this area that he thought that if he kept it simple he could pull this off. But he needed a few minutes to work out how best to do this. But first, he need to establish control.

“Tracy, you are the most amazing and beautiful creature I have had the pleasure to have known. And I know well what you are asking here. And I will honor your request. But understand that this will be real, and not fantasy or pretend, so prepare yourself. I am now going to blindfold you so that you can think about what is going to happen to you in a few short minutes.”

He picks up a blindfold, and gently stretches it across her eyes. He strokes her hair gently for a few minutes, examines the gear on display for a few more, then steps out of the room.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Thinks Tracy. As she thinks this, though, her vagina involuntary clenches and spasms, tightening the metal grip of the chastity.

Part 11

Though lacking experience on that side of the ropes, Bill does a credible job as a dominant. He maintains control throughout, making Tracy squeal at the intended times. He started by spanking her, demonstrating his control and showing her how vulnerable she was. He introduced her to the cane with a few light strokes, used clover clamps and additional small weights on her already stretched nipples—always taking care and watching her reaction at each step. He wanted her to enjoy this, and judging by her arousal and the moans and other sounds she was making, she did.

One of his personal submissive fantasies centered around being hogtied. In his fantasy, he was on his stomach, cuffed at the wrists and ankles, the cuffs joined behind his back, and wearing an uncomfortable gag. Having been secured like that before, he knew that the pressure the position placed on his crotch would cause his arousal to build, while at the same time the discomfort from the restraints and attendant stiffness would make him struggle against his bonds—in actuality making things worse. In the fantasy, it would be at the point at which things started to get very uncomfortable and the frustrated arousal became intense that the dominant would start systematically tightening the restraints—thus amplifying the arousal and discomfort. And then, at just the right time, the dominant would turn their attention to his ass, using their fingers and toys to penetrate, probe and violate. He decided to try this with Tracy.

He did his best, and it worked exactly as he imagined. And he found it quite exciting—almost cumming himself while playing with her ass as she squirmed, fully restricted.

After this, he suspects that she has probably endured enough, and starts to bring her out of her state.

“In a moment I am going to release you and we are going to take some time together. You will, however, stay dressed until I say otherwise. When your chastity belt gets unlocked will depend completely on your behavior. Nod if you understand.”

Tracy nods.

“This is where the real fun begins,” thinks Bill.

He unlocks her from her bondage, leaving her collar and cuffs, their d rings no longer connected, on. He picks her up and cradles her in his arms.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, darling, I am. More than okay.”

“I hope I didn’t do too much.”

“You were perfect! But I thought you had never done that before?”

“I hadn’t, but I have been on the receiving end of end a few times and have read a little.”

“Well thank you, ‘Sir’. You were magnifithent!”

“The pleasure was all mine. And I love my present!”

They kiss, sweetly, yet passionately. He notices the tongue piercing for the first time.

“Is that what I think it is on your tongue?”

“Yeth.”

“Wow! You really went all out!”

“Well, it ITH your birthday weekend!”

“About that, you know our little session here isn’t quite over.”

“Yeth Sir. I am yours to do with what you pleathe .”

“That’s a good girl. I know you are, and you are going to have to earn having your chastity unlocked.”

“Any thoughts on what you might need to do to earn it?”

Tracy considers the question and smiles—

“Well, do you know what thith tongue ball is really for!”

Part 12

It took a good bit of sucking and swallowing, but Tracy finally earned her release. Bill was one happy guy, and after she successfully mounted him twice, Tracy was one happy girl. It was late afternoon before they finished. As her first free act, Tracy switched out the tongue ball and reinserted the retainer. She had made dinner reservations at an excellent seafood restaurant for 8:00. They showered, dressed and found themselves enjoying a glass of wine before leaving.

Bill is curious—

“So what gave you the idea, and how did you know?”

“It was a guess. I was pretty sure. But I didn’t want to go back to where either of us once were. So I used my imagination. I’ll admit that I really enjoyed it. I can see now how you might’ve enjoyed that kind of thing too. The chastity belt was dreadful, though! It didn’t hurt, but it drove me absolutely nuts!

“Yeah. The chastity thing is powerful stuff. Strong medicine.”

“And is my boyfriend a budding dominant?”

“Only for you, Babe. Only for you. But the next time, if there is a next time, that belt is going to stay on a lot longer!”

“I can hardly wait!”

The dinner and wine were wonderful.

They made tender love one more time before bed.

The next day, Saturday, was spent with Tracy showing Bill around the city, shopping and eating. They stayed close to each other the entire day. Bill’s actual birthday dinner was at an inn about an hour away in the wine country, at which they stayed the night, returning to her apartment late afternoon Sunday. She cooked a light dinner, and they watched television cuddled on the couch like an old married couple.

Monday, and the end of their weekend, arrived too soon. Bill had several calls, on East coast time, early. And Tracy had to go into the office for the morning—she promised to be home by lunch at the latest, and left a little after 8:00.

After his calls wrapped up, Bill was left alone in the apartment and decided to he would get a start on packing. He walked by the open door to the playroom on his way to the bedroom. Something pink, the sissy dress, caught his eye. He went in to examine it more closely.

Tracy had draped the dress over the back of a chair, and had neatly placed the wig and the other parts of the uniform on the seat of the chair.

Bill held up the dress—it still smelled of her perfume.

He was a little larger than she, but the dress had elastic where it gathered and fitted. He thought maybe he could get it on. He had sworn off wearing women’s clothing, and he was very tempted. But he put the dress down. No, he wouldn’t yield to that.

Then he noticed the bra and panties. He picked them up. The panties were obviously in need of laundering—they smelled strongly of her, but they would definitely fit. And the bra, in which her breasts looked so lovely, had some stretch to it. The bra would be too large in the cups, but he could wear it as well. Tempting.

Finally, his resolve weakened His inner sissy reasoned that it wouldn’t hurt to try the things on. Tracy wouldn’t be there, and only he would know. It would be harmless, so why not?

He went to the bedroom and took off his clothes, and returned naked, with a budding erection, to the playroom. First the panties. So very, very sissy, but so very, very hot (in a femmie kind of way).Then the bra—a little disappointing in that it wasn’t as tight as he liked his bras, but still pervy.

Would he try the suspender belt and stockings?

That question had already been answered. He pulled the belt up to his waist, and threaded the garter straps and clips through the waist and leg openings of the panties. He then rolled the stockings up over his hairy legs and attached the clips.

He looked at himself in the mirror.

“Truly naughty stuff! I love it.”

Now for the dress. He pulled it on, marveling at the fullness of the internal petticoat.

“No wonder I could see her panties from behind!”

The shoes? Too small. But he could try the wig.

He placed the wig on his head and, using the mirror, more or less smoothed it out.

“Not bad!”

He looked around. Was there anything else he could try? He thought no to the collar and cuffs. Just then he noticed something else pink. Folded up on a shelf was a pile of matching pink fabric.

Curious, he picked it up and unfolded it.

“Mincing ribbons? My god!”

He had to put them on!

He affixed them to his wrists and ankles, and minced around in front of the mirror.

“This is so over the top!”

Just then—

“Honey, I’m home!”

Crap! It was Tracy! Her meeting must have ended early.

“Don’t come back here, I’m changing.”

“Don’t be silly.I’m … , i’m … .” (She sees him dressed, trying to cover himself.)

“My, my, my. What DO we have here?”

“Tracy! I can explain. It’s not like that. I was only curious. Let me take it off and we can talk about it.”

A big smile comes across her face.

“No. No. No. You will not take it off, young lady. That is most certainly not going to happen!”

Part 1

Bill and Tracy met for the first time in Atlanta—at a hotel bar in Buckhead.

He had just finished two days of meetings and needed a hassle-free place to grab something to eat and a drink. Due to the late hour, the hotel bar was the best bet.

She was sitting at the bar working through the emails of the day on her laptop, and nursing a glass of wine. But for a couple of other patrons, the bar was empty.

He sat down two stools from her. The bartender took his drink order. Bill looked at the menu, and was having trouble deciding among the offerings—nothing jumped out at him. He couldn’t help thinking how much of a pain these out-of-town meetings were—even figuring out what to order to eat at a hotel restaurant bar was a hassle.

Tracy noticed his struggle—

“Excuse me. But if you are looking for something really good, you may want to think about the seared Mahi. It’s amazing!”

“Seared Mahi? I wouldn’t have thought about that. But now that you mention it, it does sound good. Thank you!”

“My name is Bill, by the way.”

“I’m Tracy. Pleased to meet you, Bill.”

Bill hadn’t noticed how attractive, rather beautiful, Tracy was. He immediately took note. At the same time, she was appraising him. The physical attraction was immediate and palpable.

Conversation was easy. Both were very bright, and accomplished in their professions. She was a systems engineer by training, but had quickly risen to a high management position within the multinational company she worked for. He was a highly successful transactional lawyer for a well-regarded boutique law firm—having made partner at a very early age.

They talked into the night—politely learning about each other. She was attending a conference at the hotel, and he shared a few details about what he was doing. There definitely was a glimmer of something there.

Bill had just come out of a bad marriage and a difficult divorce. He had yet to even think about beginning to date—both because of the marital unpleasantness from which he had just escaped and the demands of his job.

It had been a long day for Tracy—having started the day on a red eye from the West Coast. She too was consumed by work, though this trip was not work-related. She was there to catch up with some good friends who were also attending the conference. It had been quite a while since she had actually “dated”—finding a physically attractive and interesting person, given her standards, to spend time with had proven to be just too difficult.

They each considered taking it further—to one of their rooms, but separately reasoned that it would be inadvisable to follow that impulse. Things like that never went anywhere, and they both had early morning obligations—his to get the airport and then to work, and hers to get to the early conference session. While unspoken, they both understood that their night would end when they were done at the bar.

Still, they enjoyed each other’s time. Being a gentleman, he did walk her to her room. And she treated him to a wonderfully affectionate kiss goodnight.

He was up and packed early. As he checked out of the hotel he noticed on a screen in the lobby a meeting schedule for a conference—The Southeastern Leather Collective. From prior experience (and knowledge he had gained via the Internet) he knew of that group—and knew that it existed to educate and support those interested in dominance and submission—sexual power exchange. He thought to himself that there must be another conference being held there—she didn’t seem that type. Out of curiosity, though, he asked the clerk at the desk if there was some other event being held at the hotel. The answer caused him to pause—

“No sir. We are hosting only the one conference.”

He could barely speak. Once he regained his composure, he smiled and chuckled to himself.

“If she only knew!”

Part 2

The second time they met was several months after—again at a hotel restaurant. This time, at breakfast at the Hotel Nomad in New York.

She had just had her coffee served. He was being escorted to his table when he saw her—

“Tracy, is that you?”

“Bill? This is just too weird! I cannot believe it is you. Can you join me?”

“I would be delighted.”

And so they talked. Almost like old friends who had been long separated and could immediately continue their relationship after the separation. They both felt this, and independently recognized it as an omen of sorts, karmic, and that something more would come.

Bill was feeling bold—

“Don’t suppose you’re free for dinner tonight?”

Something swelled within her—

“I am completely free—what are you thinking? “

“Well, do you like sushi?”

“Absolutely.”

“I know just the place. Are you staying here?”

“I am. You?”

“I am too. That will make it easier—getting to dinner, I mean.”

(Smiling. Knowingly.) “Of course. Time?”

“7:30?”

“Perfect. Meet you down here?”

“Again perfect.”

“Well, then, see you at 7:30.”

Bill used a connection to get 8:00 reservations at Shion 69 Leonard Street, one of his favorite spots. It had been many years since he had been this excited.

The prospect of their date had awakened something which had long lain dormant within Tracy—evidenced by an anticipatory arousal which interfered with her concentration for most of the day. She chided herself for this, and forced herself to try, with limited success, to ignore the dampness and swelling being visited upon her below. By the middle of the afternoon, she was almost desperate from arousal.

She was relieved when her meetings ended early, giving her time to shop. At the least, she needed to buy a panty or two as she had only packed for a few days, and the one she was wearing would be unwearable by dinner. So on to Madison Avenue.

She first stopped at Agent Provocateur—which had been one of her favorite spots back before she had become so overwhelmed by work. She bought a few items, just for fun, and found the perfect thing—a strappy three-piece black Whitney bra, panty and suspender ensemble, for the night. She bought sheer black nylons to go with the suspender belt, so she needed to find the perfect shoes, and then the right dress. Time was getting short. Luckily for Tracy, she found the ideal little black dress and Louboutin heels, lined in red leather, at a nearby shop.

He made it to the lobby first. When she came down in the elevator she near took his breath away. His reaction made her throb below. So much for the dry underwear.

Dinner was fantastic. Lots of saki, and a very nice Japanese scotch after. Neither one of them wanted to rush, but both felt what was coming.

While waiting for a cab on the street they kissed a long passionate kiss. The foreplay was almost over.

Her room. Anticipation and urgency were in control. He about lost it on the spot when he discovered what she was wearing for underwear. She came, for the first time, upon penetration, and for the second time when he orgasmed not too long after. Their needs and passion were unrelenting—continuing through the not so early hours of the night. They finally rested. Exhausted and, at least for a short time, still coupled together, until the dawn.

Part 3

Morning brought more need, but this time their lovemaking was measured, tender, and more lovingly passionate. Afterward, both were sexually spent, fully satisfied, and felt a tremendous closeness. They just held each other for the longest while. Neither had work commitments until later in the day, so they called for a large room service breakfast and just talked, mostly about small things, and took pleasure in each other’s company.

He was curious about one thing—the conference. But how to ask her about it?

Their conversation paused for a little, so he thought he would give it a try.

“I’ve been meaning to ask. That conference in Atlanta, I know a little about that group. How did you come to be there?”

A look of concern flashed across her face, and he saw her trying to think of how to answer. Finally, she took a deep breath—

He is hoping the spell hasn’t been too completely broken.

“I was going to have to share this with you at some point, and wasn’t quite ready, particularly after last night—which was absolutely amazing! (She takes his hand and squeezes it.) So here goes.”

“I was, several years ago, well, a professional dominatrix. I am retired from that now, and will never go back, but that is how I paid for college and graduate school. I still have friends in the scene, and several were at the conference, so that’s why I was there. I am also well-regarded, reputationally, in those circles, so I sometimes sit in on seminar panels. I was very, very good at it. If I went back to it I could probably make as much or more than I’m making now. But I had to get out. And I never ever had sex with any of my clients—male or female. While I did take pleasure in certain aspects of it, it was all business.”

“I hope this doesn’t ruin things for us.”

Bill takes a few seconds to take in what Tracy just said, and thinks about whether and how her revelation might have changed things. He responds carefully, not wanting to put her off—

“I don’t think that changes anything. It’s actually kind of exciting in a naughty, taboo kind of way. If you don’t mind me asking, why did you retire?”

“A lot of reasons. One, I kind of started liking it a little too much, and found the sessions frustrating. Not because I wanted sex, but because it was really the subs who had control. You would do to them what they asked, not what you wanted—I started feeling that I was the submissive. I would research and study, learning things that could have taken those interactions to the highest and most extreme level, but couldn’t put them into practice. So when I started excelling at work, I gave it up. I quit. Cold turkey.”

“You are the first one I’ve been with since.” I hope that’s okay?”

“Yes that’s okay.” (Kissing her tenderly.)

Tracy sighs, relieved.

“But wait, how did you know about the Collective?”

This takes Bill off balance, and he blushes noticeably.

“Well, I did have an interest in those kinds of things. The interest actually took a great toll on my marriage—it may have even caused the breakup. My fault really. We tried counseling, but it didn’t work. She admitted after the divorce that she had been jealous. That she thought I lusted for that more than I lusted for her, and she couldn’t handle it. This wasn’t true, but she felt it anyway. The breakup was very difficult, and I learned that those kinds of things have little to no place in a relationship.”

“So I too have quit. Never to go back.”

“Out of curiosity, were you the dominant?”

(He blushes again.)

“No. I was the submissive.”

(He looks down.)

“Hope that’s okay.”

“Of course it is. It’s kinda like we’re a pair of recovering alcoholics or adicts or something.” (Laughing and smiling.) It’s more than okay.”

As she say this she reasons that he was probably into the feminization aspect of the scene—his features even had almost a delicate quality to them. But she doesn’t ask. Those tendencies never do fully go away. She feels a twinge between her legs. He continues—

“Well I’m glad we got that out of the way. Last night was evidence that neither one of us needs that kind of thing.”

“Agreed! Completely.”

“Now where were we?”

Part 4

It was quite the whirlwind romance. They were able to see each other frequently, this in spite of the demands of their jobs and living on opposite sides of the country. Paris for a few days, Sonoma and Napa for a few more. New Orleans, Miami, Rome, London, and of course New York, among others, for a weekend.

Their passion for each other deepened and intensified with each visit. Neither wanted things to change. But sometimes, changes result from inadvertent or unintentional actions.

They hadn’t spoken about their respective pasts since that morning in New York. But if they were being completely honest, he would have admitted that having sex with a real life dominatrix, even a retired one, was exciting in and of itself, and she would have admitted that being intimate with someone who was vulnerable and susceptible to the dark arts she had once mastered was equally thrilling. In fact, they each fantasized from time to time about what it would be like if they relapsed together and went back. By the same token, they both feared what might happen to their relationship if they did. All this was unspoken.

That he had been into the feminization aspect of the scene was still merely a suspicion on her part, though she was quite confident in her ability to make those kinds of judgments. But something inside here told her that she had to find out for certain. But how?

She came up with a plan. So what harm would it do if she “sissified” herself and offered her sissified self to him to do with what he pleased? She could buy an outfit from one of those sites that cater to sissies for her to wear, and test his reaction. At worst, he might think it silly, but it would still be sexy. And at best it would confirm her suspicions. And either way it would be fun.

Tracy’s ability to plan and her obsessive thoroughness and attention to detail had been the key characteristics that made her an incredibly talented systems engineer and had enabled her rise up the corporate ladder. These were the same qualities that made her a superior dominatrix—almost fetishistically pursuing the fetish. So if she was going to present herself as a “sissy”, the presentation would have to be perfect in all respects. She well knew about sissies and all the little whistles by which they could be manipulated—playing with them was probably the most erotic thing she had done in that prior life, and her favorite part of that life. So what she had in mind for Bill would be planned and designed to perfection.

She knew from experience that the whole sissy fetish was full of contrary and intersecting ideas and fantasies. It was the existence and management of the conflicts that made it exciting on both ends. For the male, femininity becomes erotic, thrilling and humiliating at the same time. The imagined construct is pure fantasy, yet highly addictive. But once the male ejaculates, the fantasy is over, at least until the next time he gives in to the temptation, and a period of guilt and denial typically follows.

Her interest was deeper. To her, helping the male to indulge in the fantasy was only the first step, the enticement, in a process which she thought, if done correctly, would lead to the male being wholly and completely enslaved by the femininity.

Due to the nature of the male’s fetish and fantasy, this end result wouldn’t be foreseeable, and he could easily be led helplessly down the path.

That was one of her frustrations in her prior life—only being able to help consummate the subs’ fantasy, and unable to realize hers. The end of her imagined path was complete emasculation and enslavement, both in fact and in femininity, something no horny male would expect.

But the purpose of this was not to explore her fantasy, but to figure out his. And as her plan entailed neither domination on her part or submission on his she reasoned that it would be safe for both of them.

So, what to wear? After some time on the computer she settled on a Pretty Ribbons Uniform, in pretty pink, from an online store, complete with matching pinafore, panty, petticoat, bra, suspender belt, stockings and shoes. Just looking at the outfit on the site made her throb down below. And she couldn’t resist the matching mincing ribbons.

She was off to a good start.

Now is where her perversions and imagination took hold. She thought about how she would create the perfect fantasy sissy. His perfect fantasy sissy. She thought about how she would have to prepare herself. The sissy would need to not have body hair—so she would have to attend to her arms, her mons and the other places where she might have even fine body hair. That would be easy.

The sissy would need to be pierced. Multiple in the ears—already covered. Nipples? God she would hate that—but necessary. The same with the tongue—but it would only be temporary and she could take it out. On the fence about the nose, and her belly button had already been done. Which left her nether parts—about which she was also undecided. Usually those piercings were for practical purposes—to support chastity and inhibit masturbation. She would have to think about that.

And then there was chastity management itself. Her sissy would have to be controlled. Self-stimulation made impossible But what about her? Her session preference in the prior life would have been a ball trap device, but she didn’t have balls to trap. And besides, while those devices were effective for sessions, they were nowhere near inescapable. She realized that she hadn’t before thought through what type of chastity her sissy would wear. Maybe something to ponder for the future?

Back to the question at hand, what kind of chastity would she wear? If it was her own female submissive, the answer, a pierced-on permanent shield, was easy. But she wasn’t going to do that to herself. It ultimately came down to two options, both of which would involve a belt Option one would be a male belt with a penis tube. Even if she didn’t have a penis it would still create the illusion of a sissy front. The other option would be a true female belt. She had worn a female belt before, and while it didn’t completely prevent her from achieving orgasm, it did a reasonable job and was incredibly frustrating to wear.

She chose the second option, both because no dominant would allow their sissy to orgasm freely and because she had, stored away with her toys, a vintage Tollyboy female belt, custom fitted for her to wear, that was as effective as they get. It would also allow access to her ass courtesy of the attaching chains. And she would need a jeweled plug for her ass.

Method of chastity decided, she began to work though the last details. This would be the hardest part—where the “devil” dwells.

Makeup and hair? She could have hers done to look like the model on the web site. Surely Bill had been on that site, so that had potential. She would need a wig. And she was sure one of her girlfriends would be more than happy to help her with her hair and makeup.

Perfume? Something feminine and submissive smelling. Maybe something from Chanel? She would shop for that at a department store.

Collar and restraints? Shoe locks, of course. And for the collar and cuffs, 30 mm polished steel with d-rings and click locks. She loved those locks—a sub could be completely restrained in a manner of seconds. Terrifyingly quick, as she thought about it. Merciless and inescapable.

But then when? And how would she offer herself to him?

Club zero 9 revisited: Angel by Deborah Ford

For those who haven’t read the Deborah Ford Club Zero 9 books, you need to know that a place exists where Bulls and their hotwives send their cucks for deep, immersive training to become sissy maids. A variety of dominant women teach the cucks their place while the psychiatrist, Dr Richter, helps the reluctant but gullible cucks over their fears and to face up to their futures

This is a short excerpt of events at the training areas of the club that weren’t part of the novels.

Angel

“Come in,” Dr Richter calls out as she sends a report of her previous patient sissy’s progress to her new Master and Mistress.
She glances up in time to see one of the men who help oversee the sissy cuck’s education pull Angel, a newish sissy pupil, by his pink leash into her study.
The psychiatrist can see immediately that the sissy is flustered, and flushed faced. They are so delightful after just a few days training when they have, to some extent learnt their place but still believe they can escape the system. Such adorable dumb blondes – they are usually blonde as stipulated by their owners.
This sissy’s blonde hair is styled with pretty, tight curls, which, despite the light make up, makes him look childishly cute.
She rises to accept the leash from the grinning hunky guy in his dark overalls.
“She any trouble?” Dr Richter asks the unshaven, masculine male.
With a grunt of a laugh he says, “Sissy cucks a problem? Not in this lifetime.” He looks down at the sissy in her schoolgirl attire of white blouse, short bib, pleated dress, white socks and three inch heels. The impregnable, hi-tech steel collar is tight around her neck, with the screen reading, ‘ANGEL’
Angel stamps her foot and quietly fumes, knowing she is not permitted to speak.
“You can release her cuffs,” Dr Richter says.
Grabbing the sissy’s shoulders, the dominant male physically turns the little sissy about on her heels to unlock the handcuffs.
As Dr Richter leads the sissy by her leash to the leather padded couch, she calls back, “And pick her up in an hour please.”
Another grunt of laughter and the man is gone, leaving Dr Richter alone with her current prey who visibly relaxes now there are no men in the room
“Oh, Dr Richter, I am so glad to see you again! You won’t believe what has been happening to me.” Angel rolls her eyes at all her misfortunes. “Everyone has the wrong idea and …”
A smiling Dr Richter raises her eyebrows and the sissy stops yammering.
“When should a sissy maid speak?” She asks, as if amused by the scamp.
“I’m so sorry, Dr Richter.” He moves into his childish reciting mode, “A sissy maid only speaks when spoken to, when given permission or after raising a hand and being given approval.”
Dr Richter rests her palm against the hot cheek of the sissy, “So why don’t you relax on my sofa and tell me all about it.”
The psychiatrist releases the leash, and the collar screen briefly flashes: ‘LEASH REMOVED’, before returning to the name, ‘Angel’.
Sitting in the manner commanded of sissies by Club Zero Nine, Angel presses her skirt up against the backs of her legs, sits elegantly on the coach and then keeping her thighs together, swings her legs up and lies down.
“It has been so, so awful, Dr Richter. Really horrible!”
“Aw, Angel. You do sound as if you have been in the wars.” The psychiatrist settles in her deep seat, picking up her tablet. It is already open at Angel’s page. “Oh, Angel, congratulations. I see you have passed the walking and sitting tests, so you have won the privilege of wearing tights like a big girl.”
Smiling as modestly as he can, Angel says, “I couldn’t have done it without your help, Dr Richter.”
Dr Richter leans forward and rubs the nylon around over the sissy’s thighs. She loves the erotic tingle. It is like electric. “The first time I laid eyes on you, I said you were a natural, dumb, sissy cuck, didn’t I?”
Though he winces at being called a dumb, sissy cuck, Angel is too thrilled at having his thighs rubbed to complain. He closes his eyes, his breathing growing more shallow as the fingers of Dr Richter push under his skirt, and tickle the inside of his thighs.
He tries to speak, “Dr Richter, I am not really dumb. It’s just that our training means that …”
“Oh silly, Angel. Both your Master and your Mistress said you were dumb when they signed you in.”
Angel’s eyes flash open. “That’s another thing. I hate having to address him as Master. He is an uncouth Bully. My wife, erm, Mistress, is besotted by him. She doesn’t know what a Bully he is …”
Dr Richter says quietly, “And what is that around your neck, Angel?”
His heart sinks, but he knows he must reply.
“It’s his collar, Dr Richter.”
She stops dragging her nails over his nylon clad thighs. “Whose collar, Angel?”
He closes his eyes, taking in a deep angry breath. “Master’s! It is Master’s collar, Dr Richter.”
“And whose neck is your Master’s collar around, Angel?”
He pouts, looking away in fury. “It’s Master’s collar locked around the neck of his sissy cuck.”
“And isn’t it so divine, Angel? Light pink painted steel. Lovely little lock at the front. And look how narrow and pretty it is. These modern batteries are so small the collars can be truly sissy size.”
“But Dr Richter, it means that,” he sighs before he can say the word, “Master, knows where I am. I mean like always! And can administer electric shocks. And he can change the lettering on the front screen. Whenever he wants. And …”
Pressing her finger against his pouting pink lips, she says, “Oh do hush Angel. You are making yourself so cross. We don’t want a tantrum, do we, Angel?”
His eyes flash in fear as he gasps. He was caned twice that morning for being naughty, according to the teachers. Oh, how he hates the cane.
He knows Dr Richter has a long thin cane she keeps in her tall cupboard if her patients act up in any way and she ensures they all feel it on their first two visits. They don’t forget it.
“Are we going to behave like a good girl, Angel?”
“Yes, Dr Richter, sorry Dr Richter.”
The psychiatrist’s pussy melts at the sight of her dumb arsed sissies showing their fear.
“I mean,” she says with a tight grin, “You wouldn’t want your Master to know you’ve been playing up in your sessions with me. Now would you?”
“No! Please Dr Richter. Please don’t tell Master. Please, please!”
Oh God, his eyes are flashing like traffic lights.
“Oh? Are you asking me to lie to your owner, Angel? I do hope not.”
Sissies at Club Zero Nine, learn in a short space of time that when they are in a hole, to stop digging. He says nothing but shakes his head so that the curls flick back and for over his cheeks.
She desperately needs to mount him, resting her sopping pussy over his mouth and commanding him to start licking.
She needs to get a grip. That’s the trouble with dumb cuck sissies, they are such a turn on that they can be dangerously distracting.
“Now Angel, your Master pays extra for our little chats. Isn’t that good of him?”
He nibbles his lips, he doesn’t want to give the bully who is wrecking his life any credit, but knows the required answer, so whispers, “Yes, Dr Richter, I guess so.” He smiles up at her, with an expression of affection, like a puppy with its owner. “I do love our chats, Dr Richter. It’s so good that someone is on my side and that I can talk to you about anything.”
“Oh, silly cuck. We are all on your side here. All we want is for you to graduate as a complete sissy maid for the pleasure of your Master and Mistress. And all we ask of you is that you attend to your lessons and pay attention.”
He wrinkles his face. “I know Mistress, but sometimes it is so hard. I only agreed to come here for a few days as a laugh. Now I am booked in for the entire week. And Master and Mistress have signed me up for the second week already!”
To avoid laughing out loud, Dr Richter affects a cough. How dumb are sissies? They are such a delight
“Well,” she says softly, “I’m afraid you have been signed up. So best get on with it, eh?”
“But Dr Richter, on the next course we have to wear a spiked chastity cage. Teacher says it will help us know what happens when maids are naughty. And, and ….” He closes his eyes, “this afternoon we have to learn how to suck a dildo and a vibrator!”
“Well, looking at how you got an A plus for pussy licking, I am sure you will make your Master and Mistress very proud of your efforts on cock sucking. Your teachers will guide you very thoroughly.”
He shakes his head, “Dr Richter, no! I am not gay. I’ll hate it and …”
She taps her finger against his lips to shut him up.
“You are a maid, silly. As such you have to please everyone.” She chuckles affectionately, “You don’t think that airhead maids like you get to choose who you please and serve, do you? That wouldn’t work at all. Silly girl.”
“Well, no, Dr Richter, but I’m not a real sissy maid like those sluts back in the classroom. Master brought me and Mistress here for a bit of a buzz. He told us to come see it all.” Angel’s eyes grow glassy and unfocussed. “Of course, as soon as I got here, I wanted to try that special electronic chastity cage. It looked fun and this collar, which is so horrible and cruel really, but looks so hot. Oh my, and the maid’s dresses and these school girl uniforms and …”
His voice falters, and he suddenly looks miserable as if understanding how he has been trapped so easily.
Dr Richter presses her nails back under his skirt until she reached the metal of the chastity cage, whose hard, unforgiving surface she strokes firmly.
“Aw, you must feel so dumb, maid. There you were trying stuff your Master recommended and all of a sudden you are signed up for the first week. Just like that. Such a whirl wind for a stupid sissy.”
That word stupid again! Angel frowns and clenches his fists. “It wasn’t stupid, Dr Richter. I didn’t know what I was signing and I …” glumly, he sighs. “Oh dear, that does sound a bit dumb, I guess. I mean maybe I should have read it.”
He sees Dr Richter smiling at him with the sort of smile teachers reserve for young children when they admit to a mistake. “Yes, or perhaps asked your Master for advice. Tomorrow you will get lessons on how to ask adults for guidance. A sissy like you will find that a great help in navigating this complicated world.”
Pressing her fingers along his nicely smooth balls, Dr Richter waits for his eyes to close in sexual need before saying, “So you are so pleased you have your Master and Mistress to make big important decisions for you, yes?”
He nods and groans a ‘yes’, pressing down his hips to increase the erotic pressure of her touch on his crotch.
“Oh, yes, yes, Dr Richter.”
She leans in so close to the fairy that she can smell his flowery perfume, the same scent all maids have while they are studying here.
“I bet you are really grateful to your Master and Mistress for making the right decisions for you.”
His eyes can barely open, he knows he has to resist. “Well, I, I …”
She cooes, “And another couple of A stars in your class work and you earn your stockings. How about that?”
He arches his back and groans.
“Oh, my, Dr Richter, I would like that.”
She grins, it’s like guiding a mouse into a snare. Bang and he’ll be caught forever.
“And just think, Angel, if you get five As for class and homework, your Master will be asked if you can have the level one maid’s uniform. How about that?”
Her fingers are now pressing hard on his cage, and she can feel him squirting uselessly inside his cage. Her panties are now soaked with pleasure.
“You’d love your Master to sign you up for the third week as well, wouldn’t you?”
He is trying to say ‘no’, but his brain is floating high up into a pink sky with pink comforting clouds and a warm pink sun.
She turns on the recorder on her tablet as Angel squirms so that his skirt pulls up showing her panties through her tights.
“Erm, nooooo,” Has he said no? he tries again, but it is hard to speak. What was he saying ‘no’ to? His brain is too fuzzy to work.
“Yes, sissy, and think about that third all important week. That beautiful, full black uniform with the frills. Go on, you’d love your Master to put you down for that, wouldn’t you?”
He is shaking his head, feeling his curls gently scratching at his hot cheeks.
Her lips are next to his ear now. “Now just think, sissy. A completely qualified, fully attired maid standing in your own front room, before your superior Master and Mistress. A happy girl.”
He splutters out, “Yes, oh yes. Yes please.”
“So how would you ask your Master to sign you up for the third week? What would you say?”
“Ooooh.” He can already feel the wonderful black maid’s dress around him, the beautiful apron, the wonderful heels. The outfit he has seen on the level three and level four sissies is so adorable and hot. “Oh God. Yes, yes. Please Master, book me in for the third week. Please.”
Dr Richter is close to cumming. Is there anything more exciting in the world than watching a dumb cuck sissy sign away her life, “Come on Angel,” she says sucking in air to breathe. “You can ask nicer than that. Go for it.”
Somehow deep in his addled mind, Angel is saying to himself: go on, that would be so hot to say those words. After all that horrible bully can’t hear you. Your Mistress cannot hear you. Who would know?
His dick is filling its relentless cage, pumping continuously, so that his panties and tights around his crotch are sopping wet, yet he can never quite cum.
“Oh, Master, please, pretty please, oh please sign me up for week three and week four, and all the weeks. Please. Please. I’d be so grateful. Really. Please.”
Suddenly his dick is no longer being played with. The world is returning to its orbit. His eyes flash open. He is back in the friendly psychiatrist’s office on the third floor of Club Zero 9. Just above the classrooms.
Dr Richter is busy holding her tablet up close to her pc and tapping out something on the keyboard. She sees the recorded file of Angel and marks it as ‘Angel’s request to her Master’.
She mutters to herself, “Now, where is your owner’s email address? Where … ah …”
“Dr Richter,” Angel starts, fear and dread filling his face, “what are you doing?”
Dr Richter turns on him, the way a tiger might turn on its quarry in the jungle. “Quiet, Angel. Else I’ll get one of the men to cane you on your way back to class.”
Oh! Like all sissies, he hates the cane. A bottom spanking or even a paddling can be quite erotic, but the cane is dreadful. A real punishment.
“Sorry, Dr Richter, it is just that …”
She just glares at him, with a tightening face to make Angel lie back and feel stormy dread filling his tummy.
Dr Richter grins as she presses a button on the keyboard and says, “And send!”
He feels breathless and lightheaded from the remains of his arousal. “Oh no!”
A mischievous grin twitches on the psychiatrist’s lips as she adopts a sympathetic manner, “Oh Angel? Did you not want me to send your lovely request to your owner?”
There are tears in his eyes. “No, Dr Richter. I didn’t mean it. I need to get home to my wonderful wife and look after her.”
“Really?” her eyes gleam with malice, “Hasn’t anyone told you that we have placed a fourth week maid at your Mistress and her lover’s disposal? I can assure you, your Mistress is being well looked after.”
She takes in the dumb cuck’s astonishment before gently continuing.
“It is just so your Mistress can learn how to control one of you dumb sissy maids. It’ll make it easier for you when your Master feels you have passed all the courses, and he can allow you home to serve them both.”
“But, but,” a tearful Angel is spluttering, searching for the right words.
She strokes back the blonde curls of the delightfully helpless cuck. “You mustn’t upset yourself. Poor thing. It is best that your Master makes the decisions for you and your Mistress now.” She kisses his forehead, “You’ll see.”
“Dr Richter, please tell me how I stop all this, how I can …”
“Aw, would you believe it, Angel. Your our time is up. It’ll all have to wait until tomorrow and your next session. You do want more sessions, don’t you?”
“Oh yes, yes please,” Angel says putting her manicured pink fingernails up to her pretty pink lips. “You are the only person I can talk to about all this. The other girls on the course are real sissies. And they are all such dumb, stupid sissies. They just want to talk about the schoolgirl outfits we have to wear and which shoes will be best for the black maid’s dress when they graduate.”
“Oh? And Angel which schoolgirl outfit do you prefer?”
Suddenly Angel becomes animated, as if all her stress has vanished. She sits up, “Oh Dr Richter, I really like this one with the bib part, but I have seen one which has sweet ruffles along the edges of the bib. But I also liked the short, pleated tartan skirts with the white blouses we were made to wear on the first day. Oh, and the short grey skirts too. The teachers say they are best with tights not stockings but …”
Dr Richter laughs gently, “I am sure you love your girly chats with the other cucks here.”
She presses a button on the intercom, “Our session is over. Would you mind talking Angel back to her class.”
A rough male voice just says ‘yeh’ over the speaker.
“Aw,” it feels like the end of the world for Angel. “Dr Richter, I wish we could talk for longer.”
“I know sweetie.” She checks her tablet screen and smiles with surprise. “Especially as you have an A star in oral sex with women. Oh, I do like an accomplished sissy cuck. Clever girl.”
Angel blushes, “The teachers say I am a natural.”
She reads another page. “So I see. I think I’ll be looking for a two hour session from you, perhaps in my apartment.”
“I would love that, Dr Richter,” he beams, but then furrows his brow. “But I am not sucking the dildos.”
“Angel, you will be delightful at it, I am sure. I bet all the guys will be wanting to take you for walks on your leash and guide you from your lessons to lunch and to my office, once you pass that course.”
The look of horror on Angel’s face delights Dr Richter. She needs to rub it in.
“Oh, and just look at those lip implants your kind owner has paid for. Hmmm. Delectable!”
He touches his humiliatingly inflated pink lips. “The teachers say it lasts a week, so they’ll be back to normal by Friday.”
“Don’t you worry your pretty little head. We top them up weekly. Your Master was adamant about that.”
A knock on the door and the hunky male in his overalls enters.
“Take back the bimbo, Doctor?”
“Yes, please. Important oral sex on males lessons this afternoon,” she turns with an innocent expression to her prey. “You wouldn’t want to miss them would you Angel?”
Angel is about to remonstrate, but the man is already roughly pulling her from the couch and cuffs her wrists behind her back. Why must they be so harsh with the sissies?
“Dr Richter, I really don’t need to be handcuffed. It frightens me.”
Dr Richter is all reasonableness. “Oh silly girl. It is for your own good. We wouldn’t want you getting into trouble on your way back to classes,” she checks that the male is listening as she adds, “now that the men can paddle that ever so cute bottom of yours.”
Angel gasps. “Dr Richter!”
Why did she say that when he is helpless on the end of the leash with this thug. Oh no! he might get the wrong idea.
The brute anchors the leash on the collar as its screen flashes from ‘Angel’ to ‘LEASHED’. The screen then reverts back to his sissy name.
Angel hates being cuffed when around men. They are so powerful, and she already feels timid and weak next to them. Not least because of his swishy short schoolgirl outfit.
As the caretaker tugs on the leash, indicating that Angel must start walking, Dr Richter calls out merrily, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Angel.”
Even on his three inch heels, Angel finds he needs to concentrate to stop tumbling over when being pulled on a leash. With his hands handcuffed behind him, it is difficult to balance. Though the teachers patted his bottom as he was so good at it when the sissies were being taught how to walk on leads.
“Thank you, Dr Richter,” he calls back in his sing song voice. And then gives the psychiatrist a pretty smile.
Dr Richter saves her last words before the door closes, “Good girl, Angel. And remember to behave. You wouldn’t want to be spanked by this man with his paddle before your next lesson.”
The door closes, just as a wide eyed Angel looks back in shock at his friend, the psychiatrist.
Dr Richter chuckles as she checks her next subject. Ah, it is a fourth week sissy who was caught by her Mistress trying to unlock her chastity cage with a stolen key.
She smiles, this will be fun.

Austin and Riley continuation by Chloe Part Eight

[Author’s note—the kind folk at Fancy Steel make a clitoral shield, similar to what is described in part here, which may be adaptable for ‘recreational’ sissy use.]

The nurse enters pushing a cart carrying various metal implements and tools, the physician’s assistant has a laptop tucked under her arm, and Miss Hall is wearing a wickedly menacing smile.

Austin senses that something less than pleasant is about to happen. He looks to Nurse Debi, hoping for reassurance. She gently touches his arm, smiles and nods her head as if to say “It’s going to be okay.” Her encouragement is comforting, but it does little to calm him.

The physician’s assistant speaks first–

“Nurse Debi, is the ‘patient’ ready?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Candi, please proceed.”

Nurse Candi is slightly taller than Nurse Debi, blonde and also strikingly pretty. Her makeup is heavier than Nurse Debi’s, but not overly so, and her lipstick and perfectly manicured nails are a matching deep pink. She wears the same white uniform dress, cap, nylons and shoes as Nurse Debi. Her pinafore is light blue, but without the stripes and matching eyes that make Nurse Debi’s so lovely. Austin cannot make out the small print beneath the name on her collar. Her perfume is much more assertive than Nurse Debi’s.

Candi sets about her work, releasing a catch on the left side of Austin’s bed and bringing up a gynecological stirrup which had been held there. She releases the magnetic Segufix locks on the restraints holding Austin’s right leg, then lifts and places his right foot and ankle in the stirrup. Using the attached straps, she binds his leg in place. She then repeats the process with his left leg. After both legs are bound, she adjusts the height of the stirrups and the distance between Austin’s knees and ankles, and locks the mechanism—leaving Austin’s legs elevated and spread, and his bottom exposed. Austin feels panic starting to build.

She then pulls a lever on the side of the bed, allowing the lower part of the bed to swing down.

The physician’s assistant wheels the cart over to the foot of the bed.

Austin hears snapping noises as Nurse Candi pulls on a pair of latex gloves. He closes his eyes and shakes his head at what he imagines might be the purpose of the gloves.

He doesn’t notice Nurse Debi and Miss Hall having a whispered conversation.

“Miss Hall, may I speak?

“I suppose (sighing), but make it brief.”

“Thank you Miss Hall. Is it really necessary to lock his little thingy away? I mean it’s so tiny and cute, and so small that it is really harmless. I cannot imagine him getting into any trouble with it. I mean, no one would likely even feel it.”

“Debi dear, (condescendingly) you are such a naughty little slut. Whoever here did that to you really did an amazing job and should be rewarded. Now I know that you always get attached to these ‘things’, but the chastity really is for his, or rather her, own good. We definitely cannot send maids out in the world sporting erections, can we? And it will protect her from the disgusting male vice of self abuse, which I understand has been a habitual problem for this one.”

The disappointment on Debi’s face is hard to miss. This touches the usually hard- hearted Miss Hall.

“But I tell you what, she is going to need someone to take care of her, prepare her for bed and make sure she doesn’t misstep while she is here. It will mean extra work, but maybe I can arrange something.”

“Really Miss Hall? That would be so wonderful! I promise you won’t be disappointed … .”

****

The physician’s assistant sets the laptop on a tray table next to the bed, and pulls up a rolling stool. She plugs one end of a cable into Austin’s collar, and the other end into the laptop.

Nurse Candi wipes Austin’s privates, or what’s left of them, with alcohol, smirking and rolling her eyes as she has to rub certain places a little harder to remove lipstick residue. Austin’s frenum piercing has healed nicely, as have the other piercings.

There are 10 piercings in all. One through Austin’s frenum, one above his penis, two beside it and two rows of three on either side of the cleft below.

She first removes the three piercings above and to the sides, leaving the frenum piercing intact, then, with an audible “click,” locks the balls of the frenum piercing into a “U”-shaped receiving spring clamp in the interior underside of the shield. She moves the shield so that the open part in which his penis is now locked and his penis point downward. The top and sides of the shield have pre-fitted labret studs which Nurse Candi expertly guides into the open piercing holes above and to the sides of his penis—the shield now nestled somewhat beneath the surrounding tissue, and the flesh of the appendage now covered in titanium and inaccessible to the touch. Candi screws titanium balls down onto the threaded shanks of the studs, and uses a special tool to lock the balls tight.

This is in no way painful to Austin—at least not yet, and he has yet to appreciate the permanence of what Nurse Candi has just done. .

She pauses to admire her work, and smiles.

“Absolutely perfect!”

She removes the other six piercings that penetrate though the lower sides of his ‘labia’ and ‘vulva,’ and cleans the sites.

She fits the retainer ring over his mound. As she does this the top of the ring ‘’clicks” as it engages and locks into a fitting on the top of the shield. She then slides posts first through flanges on the metal piece that separates the cleft, through the piercing holes and though openings in the interior of the the retainer ring—the threaded tips of the posts extend out through the outer edge of the ring. She finishes by screwing down titanium balls onto the posts, and locks them in place.

“All done.(laughingly) And her sex looks more like a ‘pussy’ than mine! Ready for activation.”

The physician’s assistant begins typing, prompting audio from the computer—

“Program initiated.”

“Searching for genital appliance.”

“Appliance engaged.”

The retainer ring and the collar beep in unison and a light at the top of the ring glows blue.

“Calibrating appliance.”

Another buzz from the collar.

“Initiating protocols.”

“Input administrator identity.”

The physician’s assistant types “MHall”.

“Input code.”

Miss Hall reads a six-digit number from her phone.

“Input subject name.”

Miss Hall answers “Chloe-Anne.”

The lights on the collar blink, and the name “Chloe-Anne” appears on the screen of the collar.

“Identify status.”

“Sissy.”

The word “sissy” appears in small print below.

“Program activation complete.”

“System check in progress.”

Miss Hall speaks—

“Computer—add Mentor—‘RNDebi’.”

“Mentor added.”

“Commencing positive reinforcement test sequence.”

“Positive reinforcement, Level 1 of 5 initiated.”

Austin feels his cock start to thicken in its titanium prison as pleasurable resonating pulses are emitted from the chastity directly through his frenum.

“Positive reinforcement, Level 2 of 5 initiated.”

The stimulation becomes far less subtle, causing the restrained Austin to shift uncomfortably in the bed.

“Positive reinforcement, Level 3 of 5 initiated.”

His breathing starts becoming ragged—and his pelvis begins to thrust involuntarily.

“Positive reinforcement, Level 4 of 5 initiated.”

His ragged breathing and involuntary movements intensify. His dick starts pumping pre-cum. He moans—

“Oh god please … !”

“Positive reinforcement, Level 5 of 5 initiated.”

The response is almost immediate. Austin barely lasts three seconds—

“I’m, i’m … !”

“That’s enough Computer.”

The stimulation immediately stops.

Austin’s orgasm is ruined. He thrusts and struggles in desperation, but to no avail. Pure frustration.

“Nurse Candi, please clean up his nasty mess!”

“Yes ma’am.” Candi quickly wipes up Austin’s pre—cummy goo.

“Computer, start disciplinary system check.”

“Commencing disciplinary test sequence.”

“Genital discipline, Level 1 of 10.”

Austin, surprised by this, feels painfully sharp electrical pulses being delivered through the piercing on the head of his cock He calls out—

“That hurts, stop!””

The computer continues—

“Genital discipline, Level 2 of 10.”

“Ayeee! No, please!”

“Genital discipline, Level 3 of 10.”

“Oh god, oh god, please please make it stop!”

“That’s enough Computer. Commence full discipline test.”

“Commencing full discipline test sequence.”

“Full discipline, Level 1 of 10.”

He is hit by pulses from the collar and below—causing his body to arch against its bindings—

“No, please!”

“Full discipline, Level 2 of 10.”

Austin’s body, now covered in sweat, tenses—

“Why? Ayeee! Please, no more! I haven’t … .”

“Full discipline, Level 3 of 10.”

Almost hysterical, he screams again.

“That’s enough Computer.”

Austin is given a few moments to recover.

Miss Hall clears her throat—

“Very well. Now that the controls have been placed we can move along to the real work.” She walks over to Austin’s bedside and looks down into his eyes—

“Your lovely Mistress has chosen quite a nice girl’s name for you, ‘Chloe-Anne’, by which you will now be known. I would hope that you will be a good girl and respect her wishes.”

“I would also hope that you fully appreciate the circumstances in which you find yourself. There is no way to escape this. The Manor takes great pride in creating perfectly trained and behaved subjects, and you will be no exception. And in case you are wondering, all of this has been merely in preparation for your actual training, which is soon to begin.”

“We are leaving you in the charge of Nurse Debi, who will help you get cleaned up and dressed and see that you’re discharged from our nice little ‘clinic’. ”

“Goodbye Austin.”

At that, the physician’s assistant, laptop in hand, Nurse Candi, pushing her cart, and Miss Hall depart, leaving Austin and Nurse Debi to themselves.

After they leave, Austin asks—

“What just happened?”

“Well, you’re now one of us.”

“C’mon Babes. Let’s get you out of that bed and cleaned up.”

Part Three

Austin and Riley continuation by Chloe Part Three

Austin dreams. He dreams strange strange dreams. And the dreams have almost a hallucinatory quality–as would accompany a fevered sleep. In his dreams he hears voices. Feminine voices talking about feminine things. Odd feminine things. And the dreams repeat—over and over and over.

After a time, he feels himself starting to regain consciousness. As he fights to awaken, he finds that he cannot move. His arms, legs, won’t respond—almost like they are being held. He struggles, with no success. Eventually he accepts the futility of his efforts, and relaxes.

He notices that there is something covering part of his face. He also becomes aware of a tightness from his chest down to his thighs—squeezing or constricting the areas. And he aches between the legs. He also notices a clear bag half full of liquid being held on a stalk above him—the tube running down from the bag no doubt administering some kind of intravenous substance.

“Good morning sleepyhead!”

He is startled by a smiling nurse Debi. She is wearing her white uniform, form fitting and cut short, and white nylons. Her uniform is accentuated by a pink-striped nurse’s pinafore and white cap, impeccable hair and perfect makeup. Delicately perfumed. A walking dream.

“Where am I?”

As he speaks, he realizes the his voice isn’t a resonant as it usually is.

“And what’s wrong with my voice? I sound like a girl!”

“You are recuperating from some minor surgeries. Nothing to be concerned about—everything is fine and you are healing quite nicely. One of the surgeries affected your voice, that’s all. Again, nothing you should worry about. And you are at The Manor.”

Austin remembers the events leading up to going through some kind of test—but everything after that is blank. Except for those unsettling dreams.

“But why, and why can’t I move?”

“The easy answer first. The medical restraints are to keep you from moving—from popping a stitch from the surgeries, or trying to get away. There’s no use in struggling against them or trying to escape. The Segufix are quite secure.”

“As for the why, that’s more complicated. First, you are here because someone wants you here, and that someone must have a reason. And why here? Because The Manor has ways of changing people in lots of different ways, both physically and psychologically. I was sent here to be changed, as have you.”

“Changed? Into what?”

“That depends on the client’s preference. And you are not the client. The client is the one who pays the bills. I was sent here by my husband, well, ex-husband, to be made more sexually ‘compliant’—basically to be turned into a slut. And so that’s what am. Anything sexual is irresistible to me.”

“But you’re a nurse?”

“Yes, I am a nurse. And a very good nurse. When my Superiors are away, I am sent here and work as a nurse. And they have been away quite a lot. But I am still a nurse. Nurses can be sluts too, you know. Trust me! See—look at my collar.”

Austin looks at her collar—below “Debi” the smaller print reads “Candy Striiper Slut.”

“Okay.”

“But what have I been sent here for?”

“Let me look.” (Picking up and looking at his chart—her brow furrows with concern.) She continues, almost sympathetically “Quite a lot, in fact. I’m not permitted to share, but I can tell you that the application states that you are a maid and your Mistress wants you to become more feminine and more obedient, and a far better maid. Apparently the voice is part of it.”

“Is my voice going to be like this forever?”

“Afraid so. But it is quite a pleasant girl’s voice—almost sexy.”

“The ache between my legs, did they … ?”

“You mean …? No, no, no. Everything is still there. Just a few piercings, an implant or two and surgical things to make way for your new chastity.”

“I still have to wear one?

“Afraid so. Anyone who is collared must. It’s part of how the Program controls us. I’m wearing one.”

“That means that you are being controlled?”

“That’s correct. As you are, or soon will be.”

“But you seem okay with it. I don’t understand.”

“It’s not really a matter of me being okay with it. The Program and other conditionings make it impossible not to accept. Resistance isn’t possible.”

Austin puzzles about the last part—of course he would be able to resist and escape this insanity—just as soon as Riley comes back and gets him out of here. Until then, he may have no choice but to go along.

“Now, it’s time to clean you up. This will be the first time I’ve done this while you’ve been awake.”

“First time? How long have I been here?”

“This will be the fourth day.”

“Four days?”

“Yes. Mostly to make it easier for The Manor to manage the process. But the neuro-linguistic programming has already begun.”

“Programming? The voices?”

“That’s right. And you’re being given some special ‘medication’ to enhance its effects and speed along the process (she nods at the clear bag of liquid). It will make you girlier, too. Now, first thing, I have to change you—your pants.”

Debi pulls on a pair of latex gloves, and unzips something covering Austin’s lower body. As she does he feels the constriction release. She then undoes the Velcro on the sides of his hospital underwear and throws the used item in a bin, and cleans him up using moist serviettes. Austin tries unsuccessfully to peer over his chest to see what he looks like below.

Debi’s ministrations make his cock start to get hard.

“Looks like everything is healing nicely down here, it will only be a day or two now, and I think we can do away with your surgical girdle—maybe just replace it with a waist support.” She slides the girdle off, freeing his body from the waist down. “Oh and look! That’s one of the cutest little things I’ve ever seen! Is that as big as it gets? Mind if I? I’ll be gentle.”

Austin, thinking she just wants to touch it , answers “Sure.”

He sees her lower her head, and inhales sharply when he feels her warm mouth on it.

“What are you … ? Oh my! Please don’t stop!”

Debi responds, her mouth still full, with a garbled “Don’t you worry about that!, “ and expertly brings him to orgasm. The orgasm lasts and lasts, courtesy of his having been denied for so long, and except for a drip on her cheek and one on her chin, she captures it all, savoring and swallowing. She looks up at Austin—“That was truly impressive! How on earth can such a small little thing produce so much goo? I’ve never seen so much at one time!”

Austin struggles to speak—

“Did you just do what I think you did, know you did?”

(Smiling and acting coy, carelessly stroking his deflating nub.) “Yes. I hope it was okay. As I mentioned earlier I’m a slut—unable to resist sexually pleasing people, even sissies like you. It’s just a part of my conditioning.”

“It was fantastic! Your tongue felt awesome!”

“Thank you. A girl should always take pride in her work. And the tongue thing, that was because of the piercing.” (Debi shows Austin her tongue, revealing a small one centimeter metal ball in the center.) “Part of the ‘slut’ package, I’m afrsaid.”

She continues—

“If you don’t mind me asking, may I do that again sometime soon? I mean real soon, before they put on your chastity? After that, I’ll only be able to lick the sissy drool off it. Still good, but not even close to being the same.”

“Um, yeah, well, sure. Of course. Any time. But Nurse Debi, I’m not really a sissy.”

(Sympathetically, touching his cheek.) “Of course you’re not, dear. But at this point, it doesn’t matter what you once were.”

Debi finishes cleaning Austin up, fits him with and zips up a constricting waist support, gives his limp little thing a peck, and redresses him in clean pants.

“Now I have to get on with my rounds (as she picks up a hypodermic and starts filling it from a vial). I’m going to give you some ‘medicine’ that may make you have some very lucid dreams—but what you think you are dreaming will really be from the recorded programming you will be hearing. It’s kind of like an accelerator. “

“No, … please?”

Austin struggles against his bonds as she injects the substance into the port in his arm.

“Sweet dreams, Babes. I’ll be back to ‘change’ you again (winking) in a while.”

Part 4

Austin and Riley continuation by Chloe Part Four

Austin’s dreams are far more vivid, and far more erotic. Oddly erotic. He dreams of being dressed as a maid, feminine item by feminine item, and becoming more aroused with each addition. He sees himself as a maid, and feels deep humiliation. The humiliation arouses him more.

He dreams that he is being taught to curtsy— he clearly hears instructions from a female voice—

“A maid must always practice her curtsies. The curtsy is the ultimate gesture of supplication. When you curtsy to a superior, it means many things. First, it clearly communicates that you are a maid and that by that gesture you submit to your superior, and it overtly demonstrates your submission. It also thanks your superior for allowing you to serve, and it invites the superior to use you sexually or to debase and abuse you if he or she pleases. In essence, by curtsying, you offer yourself to the superior.”

“A maid quickly finds that when she curtsies wearing her service uniform, makeup and perfume the effect of the curtsy on her weak and obedient sissy mind is heightened and amplified, overwhelming her mind with submissiveness. Don’t be surprised as this happens to you, sissy. And you will be curtsying frequently. Very frequently, sissy.”

“In maid service, you are always to speak, only when spoken to, in a lisping, girly voice, and your sentences should always be punctuated by “Master”, “Mistress”, “ ma’am” or “sir”. You must always curtsy when entering or leaving a room and after addressing a superior. You are not to look a superior in the eyes, but instead your eyes should be downcast—preferably focused on your superior’s genital area, if your superior is male, or feet, if your superior is female … .”

Austin decides in his dream that he would rather not have to curtsy. He certainly won’t do that.

The dreaming continues, though, the words coming into and going out of focus, again and again.

He dreams of being the subject of a living makeup tutorial–with each product being applied, concealer, foundation, blush, bronzer, eyeshadow, eyeliner, mascara, lipliner, lipstick, lip gloss, progressively arousing him. He dreams that he sees himself fully made up, and again feels deep humiliation and even more intense arousal.

He then dreams that he is being sexually stimulated. Is it Riley? Is it someone else? He awakens, finding himself on the verge of orgasm. He looks down, his eyes now open, only to see a nurses’s cap and the top of Debi’s head bobbing up and down between his legs.

“Nurse Debi, what are you doing?”

She immediately pauses.

“Oh, sorry! I was cleaning you up and couldn’t help myself. I didn’t think you’d mind, and you don’t usually wake from that. I’ll stop.”

“No no, I definitely don’t mind, and didn’t mean for you to stop. You just surprised me. By all means, please … .”

This makes Debi happy. She smiles, flashing a mouth full of perfect white teeth.

“The pleasure is mine!”

Another mind blowing orgasm follows.

Afterwards, Debi straightens herself up, smooths her dress and checks herself in a small mirror. She is a vision of loveliness. Today’s nursing pinafore is pastel green with white trim. She examines herself in the mirror.

Speaking out loud, but distractedly, to the mirror—

“I think I messed up my makeup that time. I’ll have to fix it when I am done here.”

She realizes that she has forgotten her ‘patient’.

“Oh, sorry, I forgot myself. Good morning!”

“Um, good morning to you too!”

“So, are you going to let me out of these restraints today?”

“I wish I could, Babes, but I can’t. ‘Doctor’s orders.’

Well, not really, but I like saying that. The truth is that you have to stay like this until your chastity is installed and your collar and chastity are engaged and calibrated. But there is good news, I will be checking the bandages on your chest and we’ll get to see what that looks like.”

“Can you at least tell me what they did there,?”

“I can do even better, I can show you! And I’ll give you a little bath at well.”

Debi tugs at the top of his chest covering. The zipper releases and Austin feels the constriction ease. She fusses with the covering a little and eases it off. She gasps audibly.

“Oh my, they’re magnificent! You are going to be so thrilled!”

“What are magnificent?”

“Your breasts, of course! I couldn’t tell with that compression bra you were wearing, but I had my suspicions. They’re huge, and absolutely perfect! They even did your nipples, plump and fat, and areole, and your nipples are starting to get hard! They’ll look so delicious pierced!”

Austin is gobsmacked. Breasts? Pierced? He strains to see—“I cannot really see them that well.”

“Hold on—I’ll get the mirror.”

Nurse Debi holds up the mirror so Austin can see.

“Those are, … those are mine?”

“Yes they are. They’re absolutely gorgeous!”

Without asking, Debi bends over and takes one of his nipples into her mouth. “Umm. This is nice!”

Austin feels an almost electric jolt of arousal in his loins, forcing him to squirm aagainst the restraints. His deflated cock stirs. Debi smiles as she sees this.

“It looks like someone else likes your boobs!”

She looks at her watch as if debating something—“Yes, I think there’s time.”

Debi rolls Austin’s other nipple between her thumb and forefinger. Looking down at his hardening cock, obviously pleased with herself and grinning—

“Yup. It works every time!”

Austin is soon cumming again. He is finding this all to be too odd for words, but, restrained as he is, he has no choice other than to accept it. He supposes that things could be worse.

After she finishes, Nurse Debi removes Austin’s waist support, sponges him clean, dries him, and fits him with a new compression bra, support and dry hospital underwear.

“Now you are going to need to wear a bra like this for a while to protect your ‘girls’ until they are fully healed. The few stitches there and down below will fully absorb in time.”

“Nurse Debi? You said something yesterday that I’ve been wondering about. Something about not being able to resist. I don’t understand. How is that?”

“Well, your ‘therapy’ will be different than mine, so I can’t say with certainty what it will be like for you. But that test you took established a baseline for the AI Program. Your collar has, and your chastity will have, sensors that provide information to the Program so that it can ‘learn’ you—how you think, how you react—that kind of thing. It will also see, real time, what you are experiencing. The Program has been learning from your collar the whole time you have been here—through all those dreams and your reactions to my, well, you know, playing with your cute little penis. And the learning is progressive. Basically, over time, the Program comes to know your thoughts. Cutting edge stuff.”

“Once the chastity is engaged and calibrated with your collar the Program will take more and more control over you. Kind of like a full time dominant. Unfeeling, inflexible and unrelenting—only subject to the control of your Superior. My programming rewards me with sexual stimulation for compliance and obedience, and punishes me with sexual pain for disobedience, even for as small a thing as merely thinking about resisting or not obeying. That, coupled with the other conditionings, allows the Program to control your will. You learn pretty quickly. I didn’t even know what was happening. And those other conditionings? They’re more like brainwashing—among other things eroticizing everything The Manor wants you to be helplessly aroused by. And the Program uses that helplessness against you. Wicked stuff.”

Austin’s blood runs cold.

Things just got a whole lot worse!

“Nurse Debi, you have to help me get out of here! (Austin struggles against his bonds.) Now! Please? I beg you!”

“Sorry, Babes, I wish I could, but there is no way I can. It would be disobedience, and I would be severely punished.”

“Now you need to get some rest. (Again filling a hypodermic from a vial.) Tomorrow is going to be a big day!”

“Nurse Debi, please don’t!”

“Sorry Babes.”

She injects the contents of the hypodermic into the port in his arm.

“Sweet dreams!”

Part 5

Austin sleeps, dreams and hears voices. His mental will to resist the words is fading—progressively weakening. His conscious mind retains very little. His subconscious, however, hears and retains every word. In a semi-lucid moment he hears part of what is being said—

“There is being implanted within your mind, sissy,  all the thoughts and images needed to turn you into a  perfectly effeminate and mindlessly obedient sissy girl. Most of that work is done. The mere passage of time and your compulsions will do the rest. How long will it take, sissy? It doesn’t matter, because it will eventually happen. That is, if it hasn’t happened already. By now you accept that there is no longer a way out of this for you, sissy.”

“No one will ever think of you as male again. The moment they see you, the moment they hear you, the moment they smell you, the moment they observe your movements, they will see you only as a sissy  ….” 

The voices fade away. 

Only to return—

“ …  Among other responsibilities and duties, a sissy, particularly one who has been brought into domestic service, must worship and clean asses in a particular way. Unless her superior otherwise directs, a sissy girl is to be on her  knees when worshiping a superior’s ass. She should start by smelling it—from top to bottom, gently spreading the cheeks. She must know her superior’s scent, sissy. Then,  starting at the top, she should gently lick, in small licks, the entire length and depth,  all the way to the bottom. She must know her superior’s taste, sissy. Once she has done this a time or two, she should move on to the center of attention—the dark brown part. She should tongue the rim of the opening, using circular motions, reversing every so often, but  not penetrate it. Her  superior will enjoy this. After lingering there, her tongue should start penetrating her superior, a little at at time, until her  tongue is fully extended, and she should fuck her superior with her tongue, slowly at first,  revisiting the circular rimming from time to time. She should continue until her superior directs her  to  stop. When to stop is not her choice … “

The dreaming continues, though, the words  coming into and going out of focus, again and again.  

Morning comes, and Austin stirs, slowly finding consciousness. The last night’s  dreams, or voices, whatever they were, were even more  disturbing and unsettling. So much talk of kneeling, kissing and worshiping things with his mouth and lips—women’s feet and backsides, men’s shoes and boots, men’s and women’s genitals. Some of it erotic and enticing, some of it humiliating and terrifying. But all somehow arousing. All while kneeling. In his dreams he couldn’t help but  kneel and obey. 

The awake Austin decides that he will never kneel and expose himself to those kinds of terrible things. Never. 

“Good morning! I hope we slept well last night”

A smiling Nurse Debi startles Austin. He wonders how  anyone can have so much energy and enthusiasm so early in the day?

 She is again impeccably dressed in her uniform. Today’s  pinafore is white with light blue stripes. A perfect match for her eyes. Austin catches the scent of her perfume as she moves about the room. His cock stirs. 

Debi continues—

“Today is the big day! Today, the rest of your bandages come off and you’re going to be fitted with your ‘permanent’ chastity. I must say that I’ve gotten quite fond of my ‘little’ friend down there—I’ll really miss it. And it’s always so full! We’ll have to work in one last time!”

“Did you say ‘permanent’?”

“Well, I suppose that ‘technically’ it could be removed. I mean, mine can be removed, at least partially, but that’s for a reason—so I can be used for sex. My clit shield always stays on, so even if I’m getting fucked I cannot orgasm unless the Program allows it. But I cannot imagine a reason why anyone would want to use yours for sex. So why would anyone remove it?” Besides, I believe you are going to be fitted with the Axsmar lockable piercings. The titanium is very difficult to cut.”

“But, but … does Riley know?”

“Of course, silly. She’s the one who ordered it.”

The hangover from the night’s sleep, and all that went with it, coupled with this news, overwhelms Austin’s  weakening sissy mind. 

Debi continues—

“The wonderful thing about these male chastities is that once they are on the  male’s genital area  becomes indistinguishable from a chastitied female’s area.”

 Austin doesn’t understand—

“How can that be?”

“Well, the female version consists of a clitoral shield, which is attached by several piercings,   and an oblong metal retaining ring, somewhat similar to a ‘Fufu Clip’, which captures the mons. A controller, basically several microchips and a power supply, is embedded within the thicker top of the ring. The  top part of the ring mates with the clit shield, and the lower part of the ring, which captures and spreads  the labia, is attached via several piercings —through the vulval ‘lips’. The female retainer differs from the male retainer in that in the female version the bar that separates the labia  can be removed, but not by the wearer, for hygiene and other purposes.”

“For the male, a modified clitoral shield of about the same size is attached  to and curled around the glans of the penis, held on by similar  piercings, then the whole thing is covered  by the ring, and piercings secure the retainer.  The doctor who did your breasts is quite capable, and by reducing the skin where your testicles  once were and inserting small implants you now have something resembling a female mons and labia to support the piercings.”

“So two clitoral shields, two sets of pierced ‘lips’ and identical controllers. There you have it—two identical ‘pussies’ in chastity! And the pussies  tend to be wet most of the time too—but for different reasons. The only ways  to tell them apart are by smell, and taste, of course. 

“But wait! You said I still have testicles?”

“Right, you do. But they are now above everything— tucked into your inguinal canals, courtesy  of the surgeries. Out of sight. Your ball sack is quite empty, and quite a bit smaller.”

Austin is speechless. Debi continues on—

“We should probably start by cleaning you up!”

The nurse adeptly removes the hospital underwear, and proceeds to wipe Austin clean. This has the expected effect and Austin’s cock quickly finds its way into Debi’s mouth.  

She looks up, pausing momentarily—

“This is so my favorite part of being a nurse! Or is it of being a slut? Gosh,  I don’t know. Maybe both?”

Austin finds himself desperate to cum as she talks. She notices—

“Oh, sorry! I lost my train of thought! Now where was I? Oh yes,  … (again dropping her head)!”

She returns to her task and soon Austin finds himself squirting and squirting into her luscious mouth. 

It takes a moment for Austin to recover. Debi continues about her work. 

“You are absolutely fantastic at that. How did you get to be so good?”

“Why thank you! I wish I could take credit for that but it’s all The Manor. I absolutely hated it before I was sent here. But don’t worry, you will be just as good at it once you finish your  training.”

“Just as good at it?”

“Oh Dear! I shouldn’t have said that. But yes,  they are going to train you to be a  slut too.  Sorry!  It says so right there on your chart. And the  programming has already started—those voices, you know? You’ll be just like me, but not a nurse slut. You’ll be a maid slut, I guess.(Giggling.) Won’t that be wonderful?”

Things don’t seem to be improving for poor Austin!

“All right, let’s see what you look like under those bandages.”

Debi gently peels away the bandages, and uses a solution to remove the excess adhesive. She steps back—

“Babes,  you are absolutely beautiful! Full pillowy lips, perfect cheekbones, cute nose—all I can say is wow! Here. Look!”(Holding up a mirror.) “That doc is amazing!”

Austin looks at himself in the mirror and is stunned. He can kind of recognize himself, but all traces of maleness are gone. 

“Nurse Debi, this is scaring me.”

“Oh Babes, it will be okay.”

“But I don’t know how to be a girl!”

“It will be okay, I promise. I will help you Babes. And I know The Manor will ‘help’ as well.”

Just then a physician’s assistant and another nurse come into Austin’s room. Miss Hall is with them. 

Part two (honest – forgot to post part two, Deborah Ford)

Austin and Riley continuation by Chloe Part Two