Poor Polly by Clinton Crayle

Since I’m wealthy  enough to afford just about anything I want, there are few fantasies I  haven’t sampled, and this seemed exciting….

I found about the doctor-team on the net of course.  Roger and Rita were an attractive married couple in their 30s, licensed  physicians with extensive work in feminization and body modification,  and they boasted on their site that they could provide a true  out-of-body experience. Something about the notion of how it might feel  to look totally feminine (just for a little while, of course!) struck a  chord with me, so after some negotiation I agreed to play their fantasy  game.

It was mid-morning when they came to my expensive  house, dressed in professional-looking lab coats and tailored slacks.  There were scads of papers to sign: release for medical treatment and  some things I didn’t really understand, but by noon, the work on my body  was complete: Creams, sensuously applied by Dr. Rita, had removed my  body hair, leaving my skin smooth, silky and perfect. Shots gave me  round bouncy breasts and bottom. Indelible makeup provided me with a  cute feminine face, topped by a stylish feminine hairdo. And over my  privates, she locked a tiny chastity device, embarrassingly  small. Looking at myself this way, I marveled at how totally transformed  I was.

“No one  would even recognize me like this!” I cooed in my new, soft, femmish  voice as I moved my arms to cover my sexy curves..

“No they  wouldn’t,” Rita gave me an odd smile as Roger picked up some things from  a bag, “But that’s just the start of your experience…”

“Okay,  I’ve dabbled bit in bondage,” I said as Roger approached me with what  looked like straps and a collar, “but I never cared for it much…”

“But it’s  part of the total package!” Roger insisted.

“And you  signed on for it!” Rita added, holding up one of those papers I had  signed.

Well, I  figured resistance was futile, and besides, this was just a game and  soon it would be over and I’d be back to my old male self. Meekly, I  submitted as Roger applied the bondage…

Oooo! Arms  bound with my fists into my armpits, so I could only wave my elbows  like wings! Some kind of feathered arm-binders, went over this, adding  to the bizarre, exotic look. Bright yellow high heels on my feet tied  with short, tinkling chains to my chastity belt so I had to stay on my  knees! I could duck-walk, but that was all, and I blushed, realizing  what a silly/sexy sight I made parading around this way, my bare breasts  bouncing in front and my equally nude bottom wiggling behind me! The  bright-colored feathered arm sheaths waved wildly about as I tried to  move around this way, emphasizing my bizarre condition.

Rita added  some kind of brightly-plumed headgear, a tight-fitting hood that  covered the upper half of my face in yellow feathers and made my eyes  look wide and helpless… and over my nose was a sponge-rubber beak!

Roger  brought in a full-length mirror, and the sight of me waddling around in  this bizarre get-up—totally femme, exotically bird-like and comically  helpless—set them to laughing heartily… and filled me with a dizzying  sense of erotic identity-loss: was this odd creature flapping about  before the mirror really ME?!?

“R-Rita,” I  bleated, “I-I’m not sure about this…”

She just  smiled and slowly, seductively, peeled off her professional-looking lab  coat and white slacks. Now in just brief pink-silk panties, she crouched  down, her firm, well-shaped titties nearly in my feathered face.

“You mean  you don’t like thi-i-is?” She reached out and began fondling my new  breasts, hefting them, weighing them in her hands and tickling the  nipples expertly with knowing fingers. I moaned, thrilled at the  contact, feeling myself arouse… and then I GROANED as my cock, trying to  swell in the tiny chastity device, squeezed my balls painfully!

“Ohhhh!”  My voice sounded high and feminine, “It’s wonderfulll! I mean-Ahhh!—It  hurts! Take it off! Get me out of this!”

“Awww…”  Rita cooed sympathetically as she flaunted her shapely breasts in my  bird-like face, “Are you so femme now you don’t find me sexy? Perhaps  you’d prefer Roger’s attentions?”

Suddenly I  felt a man’s hands on my bare bottom! And then I SQUAWKED! As he darted  a finger between my cheeks! I jumped as best I could in my bondage and  protested, “NO! I’m not into this at all! I said to get me out of this!”

“You’re  not in any position to be giving orders,” Roger stepped in front of me  and I shivered as I saw he had stripped down to short denim cut-offs.  “In fact, I don’t think you should be talking much at all…”

He slipped  something between my teeth: a ring of hard plastic, molded like one of  those mouth-guards, except that this one went over my upper and lower  teeth… holding my mouth open!

And there  was some kind of glue on it—I couldn’t get it out!

“Wha-whaaa  ooo dooin’ a leee?”

“What are  we doing to you?” Rita teased, “Is that what you’re trying to say,  Sweets? Well it’s just another step in your loss of identity: You  started out this morning as a wealthy, powerful man, but now you’re all  femmie and mostly nude, except for those silly bondage things we put you  in! And now you can’t even talk! Polly want a cracker?”

“Gedd nee  oudd uhh diss!”

“What’s  that?” she teased, “You’re hungry? Well here…”

She took a  can of whipped cream and sprayed a bit on her left nipple. Then held it  close to me. “Come on, Polly, lick it off now or Momma will spank!”

The  incredibly sexy look of her and the incredibly helpless feel of <em>me</em> gave me a dizzying sensation as I meekly duck-walked to  her and began licking the whipped cream off her nipple with my  forced-open mouth. Somehow, despite my shame and discomfort, it as  incredibly erotic…. which caused a fresh wave of crushing agony in my  caged crotch!

Rita  giggled at my pain, sat her pantied bottom in a comfortable chair and  extended crossed one leg. Slowly, smiling seductively, she sprayed  whipped cream onto her toes, then extended them imperiously out toward  me. “Lick it off, Pollie! Do a nice job now, and maybe I’ll giver you a  cracker!

I  hesitated. Then


A burst of  pain fired across my bare bottom as Roger swatted it with a supple  cane! I twisted around as best I could to stare pleadingly up at him.

“Obey your  new owners, Pet,” he smiled, nastily, “You don’t want to earn any  punishment, do you?”

I most  certainly did NOT! Eagerly, I duck-walked across the room to Rita’s  chair and hungrily sucked her toes. I felt myself turning red from head  to toe, but in my dizzy new identity, I couldn’t tell if it was shame or  passion!

Soon Roger  and Rita had me flapping about the place on a hundred shameful errands:  racing from one room to the next, times with a stop-watch; climbing the  carpeted stairs ( nearly impossible in this fix!) lapping berries and  cream from a bowl on the floor, and finally using my mouth to pick up  their discarded underwear from the floor when they finished making love  in my luxurious bed!

It was  late afternoon when they finally dressed in normal street attire. Then  my coiffed hair stood on end as I heard a noise outside!

Roger  glanced at his watch. “Right on time.”

Somehow  they got me downstairs, still in my feathered fix, and as I shivered in  horror, Roger went to let someone in!

Desperately,  I waddled and flapped into the next room as a husky male voice said,  “Ready to load the truck, sir!”

Men came  into the house. Big, strapping, sweaty guys in work clothes. Guys who  would see me—like THIS! Panic-struck, I scrambled as best I could to the  farthest part of the house, arms flapping, butt wiggling, and breasts  bouncing wildly!.

“What’s  wrong, Pet?” It was Rita, grinning down at me as she stood there in a  casual, sexy dress, with that just-fucked glow still about her. “Feeling  shy?”

“Lehghee  loose!” I tried to say let me loose, tried to demand that  they untie me and let me look male again and ask what these men were  doing in my house—but what came out of my forced-open mouth was mostly  unintelligible squawking! Terribly frustrated, ashamed… and somehow  still incredibly horny, I jumped and flapped about, trying to  communicate.

Rita  laughed heartily and leaned down to soothe my feathers, a gesture that  showed off her shapely breasts. “Puzzled, Pollie?” she teased, “Don’t  you see what they’re doing?”

They were  taking stuff out of my house and loading it onto a truck. Neighbors  across the street were curious and Roger was showing them the paperwork  and explaining that I was moving.


I was  terrified my neighbors might come in and see me this way, or that the  burley men carrying away my possessions would discover me, but Rita just  giggled.

As I crouched there with the burly moving men casting odd  looks at my yellow and green plumage, expressions that mixed curiousity,  disrespect, and an interest that frightened me, I noticed some of the  items they were taking.  There went my golf clubs.  I pictured myself  with my buddies on the course, laughing and talking about women.  What  if those guys could see me now?  The thought gave me chills.  And there  went my gym bag.  I would never get to work out again, I was certain.   The pair that had transformed me wouldn’t want me to have masculine  muscles.  No, they preferred me soft and weak.  And what about whoever  it was that they were taking me to?  Tears formed in my eyes.  She  noticed and dabbed them  away with one of the fine silk handkerchiefs that used to be mine.

“Now, now,” she said soothingly.  “You wouldn’t want to damage  your pretty mask.  After all, your new owner specified that he wants  you in this avian identity.  It seems he has a specialized taste for a  femmed up male in chastity, dressed this way, unable to free himself.”   She chuckled nastily.  “I wonder what he’s going to do with you, pretty  bird?  And I’ll bet you’re wondering, too.”

My mind filled with terrible images of the fate that might  await me.  Penniless, girlified, made over into this bizarre bird form.   Would he keep me outdoors, on a human sized perch?  Would he show me of  to others who shared his outre tastes?  And what would they make me do  for them?  What would they DO to ME???  I made a sad ululating sound  through the ring that stretched my mouth wide.  She adjusted my sponge  rubber beak, patted my smooth beardless jawline, and said, “Time to fly,  pretty bird.  Say goodbye to your home.  We own it now.  Say goodbye to  your old life.  It doesn’t exist anymore.  And say hello to —”  She  smirked down at me where I cowered in my bondage.  “But that would spoil  the surprise, wouldn’t it?”

Time  passed. The men stripped my house bare and departed. In another room,  Roger was on his cell phone discussing transfer of my property and  assets to another account.

I was in a  cage that left me no room to straighten up. Rita looked at me through  the bars in a vey erotic way and said the next part of the game was to  sell me to a collector. “Now that you own nothing any more, you’re only  value is this cute little body of yours! Wasn’t it sweet of us to make  you look so sexy and exotic?” She reached a hand through the bars and  toyed with my left breast. Despite the awfulness of my situation, I  moaned with arousal—and pain from the tiny chastity device!

More time  passed. Agonizing, frustrating, horribly erotic time. Finally Roger came  in. “Ready to load her on the van!” he beamed.

“Isn’t she  sweet, Dear?” Rita rose from where she’d been leaning over my cage. “I  brought her to tears three times! First by just playing with her sexy  breasts till the pain in that c-belt was unbearable, then by making her  suck my toes again… and the last time just by giving her a cracker!”

She looked  smilingly down at me, trapped nude, feminized and bird-like in that  tiny cage. Stripped of my house, clothes, possessions—my very identity  gone!

“Polly  wanna cracker?” she cooed.

8 thoughts on “Poor Polly by Clinton Crayle

  1. Very hot and sexy. I wasn’t really into the bird aspect, but the bondage and humilation were amazing. I’d love to see a sequel.

  2. Always eager to read another cc creation, never predictable in exciting ways. Love the way assumed powerful and influential, becomes humiliated, powerless and excited in part of their own fates.
    Thank for another tale (tail)

  3. Wow! Not into the bird thing, per se, but it sure was different! C.C. usually wound up as a dog (female) in the old days, but I guess tastes change with age. . .

    1. Curiously this was an idea I had in my head for many years but never wrote it. So I guess the bird humiliation thingee appeals to more than the wonderful C.C.


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