Administrative Assistant for Life

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Hotel Executive Maid

 By: Dani

My story starts about three years ago.  I was a mid-level executive with
a leading insurance company.  The job had me traveling around the country
for weeks at a time.  I was single and unattached, so the travel was OK.
Most of my trips took me to Atlanta where I stayed at a moderate business
travelers-type hotel near the airport.

Well, as a lonely 40-year old businessman on the road, I would often hang
around in the lobby of the hotel—hoping to meet someone.  Often, I would
use my expense account to buy drinks in the hotel bar—mostly for
strangers who I would never see again.   In Atlanta, I stayed so often
that I even became friends with some of the hotel employees.   We would
chat and gossip in the lobby.  It was almost as if they were my family.

One lady who works at the hotel is Tamara Hopkins.  Ms. Hopkins was
definitely on the fast track.  She even caught the attention of the
corporate division and they promoted her every chance they could.   Ms.
Hopkins is about 30, African-American with a killer body.  She dresses in
expensive business suits—mini-skirts and all—tailored to her perfect
figure.  She has a face like Tyra, with perfect makeup—immaculate nails.
Sometimes, with her 5-inch heels, she would walk across the lobby knowing
that every male eye in the hotel would be on her.  And as a
director/manager, she commands the respect of all the hotel employees.

Ms. Hopkins would often join me for a drink in the hotel bar.  It was
exciting to be with someone so attractive.  She was a little stuck
up—even bossy, but I liked hanging with her.   Her subordinates were very
loyal and obedient to her because they knew she was on the fast track.

Tami Johnson is Ms. Hopkin's assistant.  Tami is about 25-ish, African-
American, very petite.  Picture a tiny version of Beyonce.  Tami has a
great personality.  She does everything for Ms. Hopkins—even brings her
coffee in the morning.   The housekeeping staff reports to Tami.

The executive housekeeper or head housekeeper is Liz Rodriguez.  Liz is
35, half-Mexican, half Puerto   Rican.  She resents having to answer to
Tami.  But everyone seems to get along.  Liz has about 24 people who
report to her—including me.  Yes, me!   Former executive, now a
housekeeper/maid.  As you will see, it did not take a lot for me to
arrive at my new place in life.  It can happen to anyone...

During my last stay at the hotel, about 3 years ago, I got a call from my
supervisor at the insurance company.   They decided to let me go.
Remember, at this time, the economy was in good shape.  So, I figured it
was all for the best.  I would quickly find another job.  They gave me a
good severance, plus I could stay at the hotel for the rest of my stay
(about 3 weeks).  I would treat it like a vacation.

I hung around the hotel for the three weeks, enjoying the company of Ms.
Hopkins, Tami, and Liz.  When my time was up, Ms. Hopkins took my credit
card and began charging me for each day.  I wasn't worried because I knew
I would find work in Atlanta.  I was a competent salesman, with a good
resume.

About three weeks went by—and I had no luck at all.  Ms. Hopkins informed
me that my credit card was maxed out—so I explained my situation.  It was
a little embarrassing.  She told me that Tami might have an opening at
the hotel.  It wouldn't be much, but at least it would be a job.  I was a
little uncomfortable at the prospect of working at the hotel where I had
once been a guest.

Ms. Hopkins told me that I really did not have a choice.  I had to leave
the hotel because I could no longer afford staying there—and I didn't
have a job.  If I took the job from Tami, I could start immediately.
They could even help me find a place to stay.

So, the next day, I interviewed with Tami about the position.  She said
that there was an opening working in housekeeping for Liz.   I asked what
the position entailed, and she began to giggle.  She said—'Housekeeper.
It entails cleaning rooms.'   The thought of being a housekeeper and
working for Liz made me feel a little queasy.  But my options were
becoming very limited.

I asked Ms. Hopkins for advice.  She said that if I got the position with
Liz, I would have to work hard and prove myself as a housekeeper.  Then,
there is potential for advancement.  She said that Liz does not like to
hire men as housekeepers, but she may make an exception with me.

Well, I got the job.  Liz said I could start my training on Monday.  I
would have three days to find a place and get ready for work.  One of the
drawbacks of the job was the outfit they made the housekeepers wear.  It
consists of black leggings, wedge heels, and a pink smock with your name
embroidered.  Because I am male, they allow me to wear shorts over the
leggings.

Liz suggested I sell my car to pay for the first month rent on an
apartment.  She said most of the other girls do not have cars.   She said
'cars are for boys.'  I would be taking the bus to work with the other
girls.

On Monday, Tami had me fill out paperwork etc.   She lectured me that I
was now a housekeeper—nothing more.  I was no longer an executive.  She
said, 'Your best chance to succeed is to obey your bosses and work hard.
Liz will not put up with any macho crap.'

I also received my uniform.   The leggings were sort of comfortable.  I
did not like the wedge heeled shoes.  And my smock had the name 'Dani'
embroidered rather than my name 'Daniel.'  But I knew that I had to make
due to fit in with the other girls.

Liz assigned me to work with Jasmine on my first day.  We would be
working on the 6th floor--cleaning rooms.   Our maid's cart had our names
on it---Dani and Jasmine.   Just a few weeks back, I had a corner office
over-looking a lake.  Now, my office was a maid's cart that I was sharing
with a 19 year old girl.

Liz reminded me that Jasmine was my crew chief.  In other words, she was
the boss.  Jasmine was a little uncomfortable at first bossing around a
man.  But she took to it well.   Ms. Jasmine, as I was told to address
her, is sort of a black gothic chick if you could picture that.  She has
tattoos and piercings.  Her hair is a thick, messy weave.  She is every
19 year old boy's fantasy.  At first, it was fun to work with Ms.
Jasmine.

But as the first day wore on, I realized that Jasmine could be a real
bitch.   In every room we cleaned, she vacuumed and dusted.  My job was
to clean the bathrooms.   She inspected my work.  In one room, she made
me clean the bathroom again as she sat on the bed giggling and chatting
with her boyfriend.  I just did as I was told.

As a hotel maid, you are assigned a group of rooms.  You work until you
are finished.   Every day, Jasmine and I had about a dozen rooms to
clean.   We would start at 9:00 a.m. and be done around 5:30 p.m.   Some
of the customers would leave tips in the rooms.  Ms. Liz said the tips
belonged to Jasmine because she was the boss.  If Ms. Jasmine decided to
give me some of the tip money—that was her decision.

At lunch, we would all go down to the housekeeper's lunchroom.  Girls
stayed on one side of the room, and the men (janitors, maintenance)
stayed on the other side.   I was sort of caught in the middle.  Ms.
Jasmine made sure that I sat with the girls.

This went on for about 6 months until my first review.  I was to meet in
Tami's office for my review.  Liz would be there—and maybe even Ms.
Hopkins.   Well, unknown to me, Jasmine was to do my review.  My fate
would be decided by a bossy 19-year old.

The review went well believe it or not.  I got a 5% raise!  Jasmine got
promoted.  She was now Liz' assistant.  I was introduced to my new co-
worker.  Her name was Amanda.   She had just turned 18.  She was also
African American.  Picture a thicker version of Halle Berry.   Amanda
would be a pleasant change from Jasmine...or so I thought.

It turns out that Amanda was now my new boss.  Liz did not think I was
ready to be a boss.  She said that some people are 'made to be bosses and
some people are made to be workers.'  She said that I should realize my
place and stop being so macho.  She said that if I was girl---it would
not bother me to have Amanda as my boss.  That is why she did not like
hiring me to be housekeepers.  I guess she was right.

Amanda turned out to be very demanding.   She expected me to completely
obey her.  She also thought it would be fun if we looked alike.  So, she
made me wear my hair in a similar style to hers.  We also started wearing
matching lip gloss.  We even painted our nails the same color.  The other
girls thought it was a hoot.  I found it humiliating.  Liz thought it was
great.   She even told me that she was proud that I was letting Amanda
feminize me a little.  She thought it would make me a better housekeeper.

One day, Amanda asked me to do her a favor.   Her boyfriend needed a
housekeeper on Sundays during the football season.  He and his friends
would gather together to watch football.  They wanted someone to serve
them drinks, make them lunch and do some cleaning.   She sort of
volunteered me for the job.  I guess I had no choice, so the following
Sunday, I was at her boyfriend's house bright and early.

Amanda showed up to show me my duties.  It seemed OK.  I was mostly there
to serve beers.  I would tidy up, do her boyfriend's laundry, and
whatever needed to be done.   I didn't mind—plus it would get me on
Amanda's good side.   She said, from now on, 'you belong to my boyfriend
on Sundays.'

Well, Ms. Hopkins found out that Amanda was using me on Sundays.  She
called her into her office.  I thought for sure that Amanda would be
fired.  When, she came out, she told me that Ms. Hopkins wanted to see
me.  I went in and sat down.  Ms. Hopkins came in wearing her usual 5-
inch heels.  She seemed very intimidating.  I guess I had changed a lot.
I used to look at her as a potential date—now I would obey her
completely.

Ms. Hopkins said that she was proud of my progress.  She said that she
had just received another promotion.  The corporate office said that she
could use one of the housekeepers to tidy up her place a couple of times
a week.  She thought I would be perfect for the job.
I said that I would be thrilled at the opportunity.   Ms. Hopkins
suggested that I would now be working for her every Tuesday and Thursday.
And ½ day on Saturday.   I promised her that I would be an obedient,
efficient maid.

Ms. Hopkins said that working for her would be no picnic.  I knew that. 
But I was so excited to work for her.  It just felt so natural to be her
maid.

The next day, she drove me to her house to give me a tour and show me my
duties.  It was a large two-bedroom condo.   My job would be to clean it
from top to bottom.   She liked her laundry done by hand whenever
possible.  With everything ironed—even her pleated skirts.   Her
boyfriend would drop off his laundry on Tuesdays to be picked up on
Thursdays.   While I found that humiliating—it pleased Ms. Hopkins for me
to do this task.   She told me she had three important rules to follow.
If I broke any of these rules I would be punished:

1.  Only speak when spoken to.  Never start a conversation.
2.  Never discuss my duties with anyone outside her household.
3.  Obey her boyfriend just as I obey her.

It has been two years since I started working for Ms. Hopkins.   I now
spend 4 days a week as her personal maid/housekeeper.   She no longer has
a boyfriend, but when she meets someone, I will obey him.   I have only
been punished once—for speaking out of turn.   As my punishment, she had
me get my nose and tongue pierced.  But I deserved it.

While I am still a man, I now get mistaken for a woman quite often.
Maybe it is the blonde hair extensions that Amanda makes me wear?  Maybe
my 1-inch fingernails make me seem like a girl?   Whatever the case, I
love being a maid.  It sure beats being an unemployed executive.

Gene

By: Nikki J

Gene was a naïve boy.  Everyone knew it.  But that didn't stop him from
having quite a lot of friends; he even was popular with the ladies,
despite his petite stature.  At only 5"3' and 110 lbs., and with very
feminine facial features, he was often mistaken for a girl.  Gene,
though, was a rare boy.  He had quite a sense of humor, and could laugh
off almost anything. That is a rare quality in anyone, let alone a
sixteen year old.

As it turned out, Gene developed an on-again, off-again relationship with
a girl named Judy.  One month, they would be dating, and the next, Judy
didn't want anything to do with the boy.  Judy, as was obvious to most
anyone who met her, was quite flighty, but she was a smart one.

In the middle of their Junior year in high school, Judy was accepted into
a program to study abroad.  It was a big day for her, because she needed
that sort of reference on her transcript in order to get into a good
college.  Gene couldn't help but feel a little sadness, though.  Sure, he
was happy for his sometime girlfriend, but, at the same time, he wanted
her to stay.  Gene dismissed the thought as selfish, and left it at that.

Judy was flighty, sure, but she stayed with Gene for the entire three
months before she was scheduled to leave.  It turned out to be the best
three months of Gene's life.  He almost cried when she boarded her plane
for France.

Judy's best friend, Erin, was tolerant of Gene at the best of times, but
Gene was surprised when she offered to help him set up a web cam so the
two could talk and see one another.

"I just hope she doesn't get distracted over there," Erin said.  "You
know, that obsession with scene boys she has now."

"What?  What are scene boys?" Gene asked, a slight panic in his voice.
He knew how easily Judy could get hung up on a certain type. Rumor had it
that she had alternated between pretty boys like Gene, jocks, punks, and
even, a few times, a girl over the course of her high school love life.
He had often wondered if anything had ever happened between Judy and
Erin.

"You know.  Scene..  It's hard to explain," Erin said.

"Yeah," Gene said.  After they set up the web cam, Erin left, and Gene
was left to ponder whether or not he had to worry about losing his
girlfriend to whatever these scene boys were.

*

A couple of days later, Erin called.

"Gene," she said.  "I think there's a problem.  Judy was talking to me
yesterday about some cute scene boys she found in France."

"No," Gene replied. "That can't be. She wouldn't cheat on me."

"You know how she is," Erin replied.

Gene did know, and it certainly was plausible that Judy had lost interest
in him.  So, after a moment, he said, "What do I do?"

"Well...no, you don't want to do that," she said.

"What?" Gene asked.

"If she likes them so much, why don't you become one?" Erin suggested.

"I don't have the first clue what a scene boy is, much less how to become
one," Gene explained.

"I could help you," Erin offered.

"Really?"

"Yeah, but you have to do what I say," Erin said.  "No complaints or
anything."

"Whatever you want, Erin, I'll do it," Gene replied.

"Okay, come over tonight at six, and we can get started," she said.

*

Gene got there early, but Erin was ready.  She led him up to her room,
and asked him to sit down.

"First things first, you have to understand what you're going to become,"
Erin said.  "It's not going to be easy, and it'll be weird at first."

"Whatever it takes to keep Judy," Gene said.

"Okay.  Well, the first thing you need to know is that you're going to
have to change the way you act.  Scene boys are really, really
effeminate.  They move like girls, dance like girls, and even have
posture like girls.  That's the draw, you see.  Girls can live out a sort
of pseudo-lesbian fantasy without committing to being an actual lesbian.
So, I think that's where we'll start."

She had him stand up, and corrected his posture and the way he stood.  By
the end of that first night, Gene knew what he need to work on, and that
was the biggest part.  Erin had him promise not to revert back to his
normal posture and comportment.

Gene got a few funny looks at school, but he figured that people were
just a little put off by what looked like a halfway effort.  He resolved
to work harder.

The next night, Erin had Gene practice moving like a girl more.  She even
had him dance to some club music.  Erin gave him a CD to take home to
practice with.  Also, she gave him a tube of some sort of hair removal
cream and said, "Scene boys don't have body hair, so you're going to have
to shave or use that."

Gene chose the cream, and applied it when he got home.  When he washed it
off, he was as smooth as the day he was born.  It made him get more into
the whole "scene" thing.

The next night, Erin had a lot planned.  They started out with his hair,
which had grown kind of shaggy.  Erin dyed it black, and gave it purple
streaks.  In addition, she sort of swept his bangs over his face in a
very feminine style.

Next, she showed him the clothes, and he almost called it off right
there.  He knew they were girl's clothes.  But he couldn't lose Judy.  He
took the bundle and started toward the bathroom.

"Just dress right here.  Scene boys aren't afraid of being seen naked by
girls," Erin said.

Gene shrugged, and stripped his clothes off.  He paused for a second at
his underwear, and then took those off too.

"Don't forget to tuck your thingy back," Erin said as Gene pulled a pair
of Hello Kitty panties up his smooth legs.  He did as he was instructed,
leaving a smooth crotch.  Then came the skinny jeans; they were so tight
he had a little trouble pulling them on.  Finally, he pulled on a tight-
fitting pink tee-shirt with a lollypop on it.   "Now for your makeup.
Pay attention so you can learn to do this yourself."

She sat him down, and started applying makeup.  After a few minutes, she
was finished, but Gene had no clue what she had done.  When she held the
mirror in front of him, he saw a girl's face.  He supposed that was the
point, as he took in the bright pink makeup around his eyes.

Erin spent the rest of the evening teaching him to apply his makeup, and
showing him the other clothes she had gotten for him.  He didn't question
her at all, but just went along with it.  As he was leaving, Erin said,
"Oh, I almost forgot."  She tossed a pair of bottles his way.  "Vitamins
for your skin, so you don't break out from the makeup."

"Thanks," Gene said.

"Just follow the directions," Erin instructed.

When Gene got home, he took his vitamins as he was told.

Almost a month passed, with Gene receiving "scene" lessons from Erin
every day.  He appreciated it, of course, but he also found it quite
difficult.  There was far more to it than just changing clothes.  It was
an attitude, and he was bent on perfecting it.  He wouldn't lose Judy if
he could help it.

He was so focused on becoming what he thought Judy wanted that he hardly
even noticed the changes in his body.  His nipples were growing puffy,
and itched like mad.  His hips were getting wider, and his butt had
started to really fill out his skinny jeans.

Two months after he started taking the vitamins, Gene had noticeable B-
cup breasts.  A month after that, and they were C-cups.  Erin said that
was normal, and that he should start wearing a bra.  Gene did.  Gene's
eighteenth birthday came and went, and he continued to change.

Vaguely, Gene was aware of how he looked. He knew he was far closer to
looking like a girl than a boy now.  But for some reason, he hardly
cared.  It was just part of his efforts to keep Judy.

He got his navel and ears pierced a few weeks later.

Finally, after five months, Erin said he was ready.  She hadn't let him
use the web cam since he had started his transition, and instead had
claimed to be giving Judy updates.

Needless to say, Gene was excited.  He even knew what he was going to do.
It wasn't just going to be a conversation.  Erin had suggested that he
show off some of his new moves.

Gene chose his outfit carefully, starting with his pink panties which had
a rainbow on the front.  Then he put on a matching bra; for some reason
he didn't even question that he needed one to support his breasts.
Finally, he wore a tight white tee-shirt that Erin had given him; it had
a Care Bear on the front.  He expertly applied (matching) pink makeup to
his eyes, and then added a few light finishing touches to the rest of his
face.  Finally, he fixed his hair how Erin had taught him; the streaks
were now pink.

Looking in the mirror, Gene knew he looked fantastic.  The shirt came
down just below his navel, leaving a small gap between it and his
panties.  He was ready.

Erin had told Gene that he wouldn't be able to really communicate with
Judy; he would basically only be able to record a video.  That was fine
with Gene.  He was content to just show Judy what she was missing.  The
planned time came, and Gene turned on the webcam.

"Hey baby," he said in his most girlish voice.  He waved at the camera.
"I hope you're thinking about me in France.  I wanted to do something so
you don't forget me, so here it goes."

Gene stepped away from the web cam, and hit play on his mp3 player.  The
song started off slow, and Gene moved his hips with the beat, rubbing his
hands all over his body.  As the song's beat quickened, so did the pace
of Gene's dancing.  He moved, and he gyrated with the music until the
song was almost halfway over. And then he started the real show.

Still dancing, he yanked off his tee-shirt, and smiled at the camera.
Then, moving with the beat, Gene unhooked his bra, and let his breasts
fall free.  He continued to dance topless for a bit, rubbing his breasts,
licking his lips, and giving the camera his best come-hither look.
Finally, he slipped his panties off.  He danced, completely naked, for a
couple of minutes before the song ended.

Still naked, he waved to the camera, and said, "Bye, baby.  I hope you
keep that in mind."

Gene felt so naughty after dancing for his girlfriend, and butterflies
danced in his tummy.  He knew he had been bad, and it felt so good.

A few minutes after he had finished his show, his phone rang.  He picked
it up, and said, "Hello?"

"That was just fantastic, Gene!" Erin's voice said.  "She loved it.  She
absolutely loved it!"

That was all Gene needed to hear.

So it went for a few weeks; each  night, Gene would put on a show for his
girlfriend.  He got quite good at stripping.

It wasn't until Erin called him three weeks after his initial dance that
he knew something was wrong.  "She's getting bored, Gene.  She doesn't
think you've really committed to this.  Judy even called you a poser."

"What?  What else do I need to do?  I'm --" Gene was frantic.

"Well, there's one thing a lot of scene boys do, but I don't know if you
want to go that far," Erin said.

Gene didn't hesitate.  "What is it?  I'll do it."

"Um, well.  You know how guys like it when two girls get together?  It's
the same for us.  We like to see two good-looking boys get together, and
a lot of scene boys don't mind.  They're already so in touch with their
feminine side that it's not a big deal for most of them," she explained.
"I understand if you don't --"

"I'll do it," Gene said.  He wasn't about to lose his girlfriend because
he wasn't sexually adventurous enough.  "What do I need to do?"

"Nothing.  Just be at my house tomorrow night," she said.  "I know how to
make this happen."

Gene was distraught.  He had done everything else Judy wanted.  He hoped
this latest plan would be enough.  He couldn't sleep that night for
worry.

The next night, he found himself in Erin's room.  Her parents had gone
out of town, she said.

"He should be here any minute," Erin said.  "You should be excited.  Perk
up, Gene."

"I know.  I'm just worried," Gene stated.

"It'll be fine.  This will show you that you're --"  A ringing doorbell
interrupted her.  "Oh, that's him!"  And she scampered from the room,
leaving Gene alone with his thoughts. It wasn't long, however, before
Erin returned, leading a very large, quite muscular boy.  He looked quite
a bit older than either Erin or Gene - maybe around twenty-five.  He was
tall, with an athlete's physique.  The man (Gene couldn't rightly think
of him as a boy) had blonde hair and a hint of stubble.

"Is this her?" the man asked Erin.

"Yes," she answered.  She pushed a button on her camera, and said, "I'll
just leave you two to it then."

She stepped out, and closed the door.

Gene stood.  He had heard the man refer to him as a girl, but he didn't
mind.  Lots of people made that mistake.

Gene had (at Erin's suggestion) worn a short skirt for that night.  It
was pleated, and looked like a very naughty school girl's uniform.  To
complete the outfit, he wore knee-high stockings, and a tight, black tee-
shirt (Gene didn't even bother to notice the design on it, he was so
nervous).

The man must have noticed Gene's case of nerves, because he said, "Just
relax,baby.  I'm Tom."

"Gene," Gene whispered.

"Okay, Gina," Tom said, stepping closer, and putting his hand on Gene's
waist.  "Erin told me your situation, and how I can help."  He paused,
looking Gene up and down.  "But I didn't expect you to be so cute."

Gene blushed.

Then, Tom leaned in and kissed him.  Gene was surprised at first, but
soon, was kissing back.  It felt good as Tom wrapped him in his strong
arms.  It felt safe.

Gene had only ever had sex a few times, but it had never been anything
like what Tom was doing.  He took his time, seemingly content to kiss
Gene's painted lips for what seemed like hours.  Gene was quite confused.
He hadn't really wanted to go through with it, had only agreed out of
desperation.  But something was happening to him as he stood in Tom's
arms, feeling the man's tongue in his mouth.  He actually was getting
horny.  He hadn't had an erection in quite a while, but he had gotten
used to that feeling deep in his tummy which signified his arousal.

Tom picked him up, and Gene wrapped his legs around the big man, still
kissing him as he was carried to the bed.  Tom laid him down gently, but
Gene didn't unwrap his legs.  They made out for a few minutes more until
Tom guided Gene's shirt, and this his bra off.

When Tom started kissing Gene's nipples, he nearly went through the roof.
Good couldn't quite describe how it felt.  No word Gene knew was adequate
for that task.  But Tom didn't linger for too long, though Gene certainly
wouldn't have minded.  Tom, however, had other plans.  His lips traced
the length of Gene's torso until he came to the waistband of Gene's
skirt.  He deftly unbuttoned it, and slipped it off.

"Cute panties," Tom said. Gene could only smile.  He had chosen a pair of
Spider-Man boyshorts.  They were slipped off within a few seconds,
leaving Gene's hairless penis bare to the world.

"And a cute little dick to go with them," Tom joked.  Gene knew that his
penis had gotten smaller, and he had to admit that it probably was cute.

Gene's thoughts were interrupted by the feeling of Tom's mouth on his
genitals.  No, that's not right.  It was Gene's genitals in Tom's mouth.
His penis and testicles were small enough that Tom could fit everything
in at once.

It wasn't like getting a blow job from a girl.  For one, Gene never got
hard.  Two, it just felt...different.  Tom's tongue flicked around Gene's
limp member expertly, and Gene moaned.  Then, Gene felt something cold on
his rectum.  He looked up, and saw a discarded tube of K-Y Jelly beside
him.

And then Gene's world changed as Tom's finger entered him.  Tom worked it
around for a few minutes, fingering Gene first with one finger, then with
two.  It felt like nothing Gene had ever experienced before.  He just
didn't have the words to describe it.  Not bad, but not great.  It was a
tease, and he knew it.  How would it feel when Tom really fucked him?

Gene didn't have to wait long for that answer.  Once Gene's hole was good
and lubed, Tom stood, and removed his pants, then his underwear.  Finally
his shirt came off, and Gene smiled at Tom's nudity.

His body was even more muscular than Gene had guessed, but Gene's eyes
didn't stray after they had fixed on Tom's cock.  It wasn't the size,
though that was impressive enough.  No, it was just that it was a cock.
A real, naked, and engorged penis, live and in person.  Almost
instinctively, Gene started to sit up, and reached for it.

"No.  This is all about you, baby," Tom said, as he brushed Gene away.
"Just lay back."  Gene did.  "Spread your legs."  Gene obeyed.  "Wave at
the camera."  Gene did.

And then Tom stepped between his legs, and Gene felt Tom's cock touch the
rim of his hole.  Tom didn't push it in immediately, but teased Gene for
a few seconds.  And then Gene felt it push in.  Tom went slowly; he knew
Gene was a virgin.  But it still hurt, and Gene cried out in pain.  Tom
continued to push, and Gene felt every inch of Tom's cock as it entered
him for the first time.  It was in.  All the way.  Tom stayed there for a
few seconds before starting to pull out, ever so slowly.  Gene moaned,
and ran his hands over Tom's rippling abdominal muscles.

Tom rammed it in fast, and Gene squealed.  He retracted slowly, and then
went in fast again.  After a couple of minutes, the pain became pleasure,
and Gene started to really enjoy himself.  He felt his breasts jiggle
with each thrust, and he couldn't help but scream as Tom fucked him.

After a few minutes, Tom flipped Gene over.  Gene pushed his ass into the
air almost instinctively.  Tom slapped his ass, and then entered him from
behind.  Being fucked doggystyle was Gene's favorite.

And so they went for almost an hour and a half.  Gene didn't know where
Erin had found Tom, but the man had immense stamina.  By the time they
were done, Gene was completely worn out.  He had cum dripping from his
ass, and sweat (and quite a bit of activity) had mussed his hair, and
streaked his makeup.

Tom kissed him, and said, "That was good, baby."  Gene had nothing to
say; he just basked in the warm glow as Tom dressed, and then left.

*

"She loved it!" Erin said.  Gene sat on the bed, leaning against the
headboard in only his bra and panties.  "Judy definitely knows you're not
a poser now."

Gene smiled.  Sure, he was happy about Judy being happy, but it was more
than that.  His ass still hurt, even a day later, but it hurt in a good
way.  Memories of how it felt flitted through his mind.

He didn't have to rely on memories for long, because the next day, Erin
set up another camera session with a different man.  This one was just as
handsome, just as muscular, but shorter and black.  Gene never even got
his name, but he definitely noticed that the man's cock was enormous.

Every few days, Erin brought Gene a new man with which to have sex.  Gene
got quite good at it; his enthusiasm and enjoyment was readily apparent.
He even learned to suck cock, though he didn't really like it that much.
The men did, though, so he continued to do it.

And then the day came when Judy was scheduled to get back home.  Gene was
ecstatic, and could hardly contain himself.  It had been almost a year
since he had last seen his girlfriend.  Had she changed as much as him?
Gene doubted it.

He dressed carefully that day; he wanted to impress Judy.  Erin helped
him choose his outfit (skinny jeans and a tight tank top).  His black
hair now had blonde streaks, and he chose simple black eye makeup.   He
couldn't help but notice, when looking in the mirror, that his cleavage
looked fantastic.  Judy would be thrilled.

Gene's heart leaped into his throat when he saw Judy walking down the
concourse.  She hadn't changed a bit, still as beautiful as ever.  But it
was strange.  Gene was standing in full sight, in plain view, but Judy's
eyes just skated over him like hew wasn't even there.  When she got
closer, Gene waved.

Finally, Gene couldn't contain himself, and rushed to Judy, and embraced
her in a tight hug.

"Oh, Judy, I'm so glad you're home!" he squealed.

"Who—wha?" Judy said, pulling away.  "Wait...Gene?  Is that you?  What
the hell is going on?"

"Of course it's me, silly," Gene said, confused a litte.

"What have you done to yourself?  Are those real?" she asked, clearly
talking about his breasts.

"You know they are," Gene said, smiling at Judy's joke.  Only, she wasn't
joking. She was disgusted.

"I, uh.  I have to go," Judy said, breaking away from Gene. "I'll, um,
talk to you later."

And then she was gone, leaving a confused Gene standing in the airport.

*

It took Gene a while to get home.  He wandered around the airport for
nearly an hour, wondering what exactly was going on.  Finally, though, he
found his way home.

Absently, he sat down at his computer, and opened his email.  There was
one from Erin.  Maybe she knew why Judy had acted like that.

It read:

Gene (or is it Gina now),

I bet you're wondering what is going on, and rightly so.  I have to say,
it's been really difficult for me to keep this to myself, and I expect it
will be somewhat cathartic to let it all out.  So here it goes.

You have not been in contact with Judy.  She hasn't heard one little bit
from you the entire time she's been in France.  I convinced her that you
had moved on, and that she shouldn't call.   We've actually grown quite a
bit closer over these last months, she and I.  Ah, but I get ahead of
myself.  Maybe I should start at the beginning.

About six months before Judy left, she and I had a bit of a thing.  It
was during one of your "off" times, so don't get all indignant (Or do.  I
bet you just look adorable.).  Anyway, it went on for a couple of months,
and, I have to say, I fell in love.  She's just so perfect, you know.  Of
course you do.  You love her too.  But then, as she does, she moved
on...to you.

It was so infuriating.  I asked her why, and she said that she didn't
know if she really liked girls (I knew she did).  We remained friends.
Being close to her in a friendly capacity is better than nothing at all.
I figured that she would just move on from you after a couple of months
like always, but she didn't.  You two stayed together right up until she
left.

That's when I decided to be a little more proactive.  You know how I told
you that you were dressing like...what was it?  A scene boy?  Yeah, that
doesn't exist.  I just made it up.  I know there are scene girls,
but....well, you were duped.  I just dressed you in girls' clothes, and
you did it.  I was absolutely amazed.

But that wasn't enough.  I wanted to go so much farther.  You know those
vitamins?  Female hormones and testosterone blockers.  You know those CDs
I gave you?  Hypnosis to make you a lot more...gullible and trusting.
They made it to where you just accepted whatever happened.

So, there you were, with the body of a girl, dancing around on a webcam
(A lot of people paid to see that, by the way).  But it wasn't enough.
You had to go all the way.  So, I brought home a male stripper which I
paid for with the money you had earned on your web cam.  That video sold
even better, so I decided to make some more.  And then, Judy got home.

Now that you're up to speed, I should tell you that I sent (anonymously
of course) all of these materials to Judy.  She's going to see exactly
what you've become.

And then she'll be mine.  All mine. And if not, at least you won't have
her.

Love ya,

Erin

P.S. I hope we can stay friends.  I do like hanging out with you now.

Gene read it over and over again.  Was any of that even possible?  It was
like a dam breaking.  Once he knew what was going on, the hypnotic
suggestions seemed to vanish, and he clearly saw what had happened to
him.

He had been fucked by men.  He looked like a girl now.  And Judy was
disgusted by him.

He cried himself to sleep that night.

*

It was two in the morning when Gene's phone rang.  He drowsily picked it
up, and said, "Hello?"

"Gene?" he heard Judy's voice asked.  "Is that you?"

At his beloved's voice, he awoke immediately.  "Yeah.  What's up?"

"I just wanted to say that I'm sorry," Judy said.  "I was surprised,
and --"

"Don't be sorry.  I understand," Gene answered.

"It's just that...why?" Judy asked.  Gene explained how Erin had tricked
him.

"And you did all of that for me?" Judy queried.

"I did," Gene answered.

There was a moment of silence.  Then, Judy said, "She sent me the videos,
you know.  I think they're kind of sexy."

"Really?" a surprised Gene asked.

"Yeah," she replied.  And Gene thought that his current situation might
just be kinky enough to keep Judy's attention.

They talked for hours that night, mostly about France.  By the end of
their conversation, they had agreed to stay together, in spite of the
diabolical scheme which Erin had put into motion.

Happily ever after, and all that.

Ill Fated Life

By Cheryl Lynn

Maria Isabella was a Pilipino who married my Dad when I was in high
school.  I was seventeen at the time but did not begrudge him for marrying
her.  He had been divorced for over then years and if he wanted to screw
up again that was his problem. That is what I thought at the time any way
but how wrong that assumption proved to be.

I was seven when they divorced and don't remember much about my Mom.  From
the very few pictures of her that were left in the house, I could tell she
had been a very pretty young woman.  Chestnut colored long wavy hair,
petite with a nice pair up top.  Dad was five nine and wiry with little or
no body fat.  He was incredibly fast on his feet and I guess that is why
he did as good as he did on the job.

Unfortunately, I took more after my real Mom than my Dad.  I had her small
pert nose, rounded chin, small frame and clumsy.  In junior high, I picked
up the nick name of "Squirt."  With Dad's job we were constantly on the
move.  I've been in more school than I care to think about.  We moved here
in the middle of my senior year and I quickly picked up the same nick name
from the bullies.  I didn't really object as that name was a lot better
than some I can think of.  Dad worked as a "Private Security" guard for an
internationally known CIA contractor.  He met Maria in Manila while on a
rest and recuperation leave from the Middle East.

She was short yet fairly well built, about an eight on the ten point scale
with black penetrating eyes and quick temper.  She was about ten years
younger than him and ten older than me.  She was amazing with a knife.  I
saw her demonstrate her talent once soon after she arrived.  There was a
pesky bottle fly buzzing around the kitchen, almost as soon as the fly
landed on the wall, a knife blade was sticking in the same spot.  The
bottle fly had been cut in half.  It happened so fast, I never saw where
the knife came from.

When she moved in, I was totally indifferent to her.  Like I said, she was
my Dad's problem.  Since I was almost old enough to join the army like my
Dad had, didn't take too kindly to her ordering me about.  I think she
hated me from the start and we didn't see eye to eye on any issue.  She
didn't like my long greasy mousy brown hair or my attitude.  We maintained
a sort of uneasy peace until Dad was killed.

I was just waiting to graduate so I could join the Army when the news came
of his death.  I was almost nineteen then but I still cried like a baby.
I don't remember seeing Maria cry.  She didn't cry when the notice
arrived, she didn't cry at the funeral and she didn't cry at the reading
of the will.  I was balling the entire time.

To make matters worse, Dad had left everything in Maria's name.  I guess
he figured that the Army would take care of me.  Well that was fine by me.
I missed two weeks of school due to the funeral and my depression.  Taking
my finals was a bitch but I muddled through.  With my degree in hand, I
headed to the nearest Army recruiting office.  During my physical, the
Doc's discovered that I had a heart mummer whatever the hell that was.  My
enlistment papers were promptly stamped 4-F and I was told to go home.  I
tried the Navy, Air Force, Cost Guard and even the National Guard but was
turned down by them all.  If I thought I was depressed over my Dad's
death, this rejection knocked me off my feet.  I pretty much stayed in my
room feeling like the biggest loser in the world.  Without the military, I
was nothing.  I had no money to speak of so I couldn't afford college and
had no job skills.

Ooo

About a week later, Maria marched into my room, looked around, then
shouted at me to get my ass out of bed and clean my pig sty.  I didn't
give a damn, so I gave her the finger.  When I say that was a bad idea,
let me tell you, it was a very very bad idea.  The next thing I know, she
grabs me by my pony tail and drags me not only out of bed but out of my
room and I'm naked.  I had a flash back to the old cartoon about Oop the
Caveman who always dragged his girlfriend around by the hair.  I'm
surprised that she didn't grab his wooden club and bash his brains out
after the first time he did that.  Being drug around by your hair hurts
like the dickens not to mention the damage done to my bare butt.

When she finally let go, I was in the bathroom.  I didn't know where to
put my hands first.  Do I message my burning scalp or do I rub my aching
butt or do I cover my genitals?  Seeing just how mad Maria was, I decided
to cover by groin in case she decided to give'm a good kick.

"You stink like the pig you are and that sty you live in.  Since you act
like a pig, I will treat you like one and give you a bath.  You stay right
where you are while I get everything ready," she yelled.

Turning her back as she reached into the linen closet, I decided the best
thing to do was get the hell out of there and away from her.  Bad idea,
before I could fully sit up there was a knife shivering between my legs
and way too close to my family jewels.

"I have another ready to pin you where you sit if you make another move,"
she said surprisingly calm.

I froze.  I may be slow and clumsy but I'm not stupid.  I sat with my eyes
glued to that blade sticking through the rug and into the parquet floor
below.  I had never been as scared in my life as I sat there.

"This woman is crazy," I thought.

Turning from the closet, she was wearing a white plastic bib apron and
pink rubber gloves with the cuffs turned up.  Her arms were laden with who
knows what as she went to the counter top and put them down.  One item
glared out at me from the sink.  It was a pink and white box clearly
labeled, "Bulb Syringe" with the picture of a smiling woman.  A large jar
next to it had in black block letters, "Depilatory."

"I'm in deep shit!" I thought as I heard her turn on the faucets in the
tub.

As water began filling the tub, she grabbed a jar and bottle off the
counter and poured some of their contents into the water.  The room
quickly filled with the aroma of sweet flowers.  Next, at the sink, she
turned on the taps and plugged the drain.  Reaching over, she picked up
the box labeled "Bulb Syringe" and withdrew the contents.  It was a big
pink flexible rubber ball with a large ridged white plastic nozzle of some
sort.



Turning off the taps, she fastened the nozzle to the ball, squeezed it and
submerged the tip into the water.

With a sneering smile on her face, just daring me to do anything, she told
me to get up and bend over.  I wasn't about to argue and did as I was
instructed.  I felt the gloved hand press into my back and something
probing my ass hole.  I yelped like a frightened dog as she shoved it in
and began working it in and out of my burning rear end.  I tried to stand
but she moved her hand from my back and grabbed my testicles.  I kept my
in position but my ass squirmed as she manipulated the nozzle.  Finally, I
felt a rush of warm water flooding my rear passage.  I felt her remove it
and heard it land in the sink.  I started to rise but her grip on me
tightened then she pushed something inside my hole and released her grip.

"Now let that clean you out while I give you a bath," she said then
started laughing.

I have never been so embarrassed or humiliated in my life as she turned me
around with her hands on my shoulders.  Looking down, she started giggling
and said, "I see you really enjoyed that.  Maybe you like it so much that
you can do that every day from now on.  It proves what I though all along.
You're not the man your father was that's for sure.  You couldn't even get
into the army and that tiny thing is what probably kept you out.  They
only want real men not sissies like you."

OMG!  I had a hard on!  I stood there beet red as she just grinned broadly
and told me that I had better behave.  Next, she picked up the jar that
said, "Depilatory" and began spreading it all over my body.  From my neck
down to my little toe, I was covered in a thick paste that began to reek
and burn my skin.

"Stand there with your arms stretched out and don't say a word," she
ordered as she removed her gloves.

I was hopping from one foot to the other when she finally said for me to
get into the bath.  It was full of multi-colored bubbles and smelled
strongly of flowers.  I didn't care as long as it would ease the burning
of my skin and I quickly stepped in.  It was hot and I had to ease my ass
down but as the water ran up my body the burning lessened.  As I settled
into the water, she had changed her gloves and placed a plastic shower cap
over my head tucking my pony tail inside.  OMG!  I can't begin to tell you
how mortifying that bath was as she scrubbed my groin and between my ass
cheeks.

Out of the tub after my hair had been shampooed and conditioned not once
but three times, she handed me a fluffy towel.  Patting myself dry as she
instructed, I saw that all the hair on my body was gone.  I tried my best
to stifle a groan as I saw my hairless groin but she must have heard.

"What's the matter?  You finally able to see that little worm down there?"
she laughed.

It was so totally embarrassing.  My dick wasn't the biggest but I thought
it at least average.  Looking at it now, all pink and shriveled, it was
more like a pre-teens dick.  It made me ashamed to call myself a man.  It
was a little kid's dick.  At least it wasn't standing at attention
anymore.

Dried off, she told me to sit on the toilet and remove the string hanging
from my ass but not to drop it into the toilet.  When I looked at her with
a question forming on my lips, she said, "It's a tampon and won't flush.
Pull it out and wrap it in some tissue and toss it into the basket."

With that odious task done, she had me lower the lid and sit back down
facing away from her.  Maria combed my slightly below the shoulder hair
straight, parting it in the middle and at the forehead.  Using a pair of
scissors she trimmed off the split ends and lifting my head back, snipped
the hair just above my eye brows.

My humiliation didn't stop there, no not by a long shot.  She had me get
up and move over to the sink where she bent my head over it.  She had on a
pair of those clear plastic gloves like you see them wearing in the school
lunch room.  With my head bent over and my eyes closed as directed, she
began messaging something into my damp hair.  When she had finished, my
hair was colored neon red.

Back on the toilet seat, she began rolling my hair with one inch wire
rollers with a stiff bristle inside them.  She tugged them tight and my
scalp was seriously irritated by the bristles.  My bangs, she formed what
she called pinwheels and held them in place with bobby pins.  I really
wanted my embarrassment to end but I was in no position to stop her.  With
my hair all in rollers, she spayed it with a can of lacquer until the can
was empty.  A pink hairnet was placed over my head and I was told to get
up.



Maria handed me a jar of sweet smelling ointment and told me to spread it
all over my body.  Again the sweet smell of flowers filled my nose as I
did what she demanded.  It was cool and quickly absorbed into my skin but
the sweet smell of flowers only seemed to increase.  She took the jar from
me and rubbed it into my back and that other place where I couldn't reach.
Kneeling in front of me with a giggle, she powdered my groin with talc.
Then to my utter horror, she tied a violet colored satin ribbon into a
neat bow with long streamers around my shrunken dick and balls.  Taking
the streamers that hung from the head of my dick, she pulled them through
my legs forcing my dick down, wrapped them around my waist and tied them
off in the middle of my back.

I padded beside her as she led me by the elbow into the kitchen.  There
she handed me one of her elaborate aprons.  It was a gauzy, floral lace
trimmed bib apron with embroidered red, yellow, violet and pink flowers on
the bib.  It tied in the back with a big floppy bow.  It went down to my
knees and was full enough to almost meet in the back.  It looked like a
damn dress on me.

A pair of pink flip-flops and pink rubber gloves came next.  She stepped
back, laughed, and told me to take the box of trash bags to my room and
everything, no matter what was on the floor, to put into the bags.  I'd
had it by then and started to tell her that I was so outta there, when I
saw the knife in her hand.  She was twirling the sharp point against her
thumb.  The implication was plain and I moved off to my room.  She
followed right behind me giggling as she went.

Oh the indignity of it all, here I was a nineteen year old man wearing a
totally sissy apron, pink flip-flops and my hair in rollers and pink
hairnet.  I didn't even want to think about what she had done to my poor
dick.  Now I was filling trash bags with not only the trash that had piled
up on the floor but my clothing as well.  When the floor was finally
visible, she ordered me to pull the posters and fold-out I had tacked to
my walls.  Damn, there goes Miss October and December.  There go my two
NASCAR posters, my Buc's team poster and Army recruitment poster.  When I
turned around from pulling the last poster from the wall, my floor was
covered in piles of clothing.  My underwear and sock draws were open and
empty and my closet bare except for one pair of jean and white long-
sleeved dress shirt.



I started to protest but stopped when she held up her hand.  "You have two
choices and only two.  First, you can toss all that mess into the trash or
second, you can put on those jeans and shirt and get out of my house and
never return.  It's as simple as that.  If you stay, you will earn your
keep and do exactly what I say.  No questions asked, understand?  You have
one minute to make up your mind," she said.

I wasn't ready for her ultimatum.  My first instinct was to grab my jeans
and shirt and run away as fast as my two feet could carry me.  I even took
a couple of steps towards the closet.  Then it hit me.  I have no money.
I have no place to go.  I don't even have any friends.  I would have to
live on the streets.  I couldn't do that.  Well I could but I certainly
wouldn't for long.  Living here under her terms didn't seem so bad at that
moment.  I bowed my head in surrender and told her I would do whatever she
said.

She just smirked and pointed to the clothing on the floor.  By the time I
had finished picking everything up, there were over twenty bags and not a
single stitch of clothing in my room.  Hell, she even had me remove the
sheets and bedspread and toss them as well.  My room was almost as naked
as I was.

Obviously, she wasn't finished humiliating me as she ordered me to take
the garbage filled bags out to the front curb then put the others in the
trunk of her car.  Did I say that her car was parked out on the driveway?
I had the first two bags half way to the curb when I remembered how I was
dressed.  A few cars drove by as I dumped the bags.  Some honked others
didn't and thankfully no one walked by.  Was I ever glad to get that chore
finished.

Back in my room, Maria was waiting with the vacuum cleaner.  She watched
with an amused smile as I vacuumed.  I muttered under my breath knowing
she couldn't hear a number of cuss words and a few things about what I
thought of her.  Actually, there were a lot of cuss words.  With the
vacuuming done, she handed me a dust rag and bottle of furniture polish.
I was too tired now to argue so I flip-flopped around the room polishing
whatever wood showed itself.  As I was finishing up, she stepped out of
the room but came back shortly with a pile of pink sheets and white satin
comforter decorated with small lavender flowers.



With the bed made, I followed her back into the kitchen.  I didn't think
my day could get any worse but that's what I get for thinking.  Seated at
the kitchen table, she gave me a manicure.  My nails were short as I had
the bad habit of chewing on them but that didn't stop her.  Some how she
managed to round them off with an emery board then glued one inch long
acrylic nails over them.  The nail length was bad enough but she made me
more self conscious by painting them in a bright glistening plumb color.

As my nails were drying, she got up and made a pot of tea.  Maria came
back with two cups and handed me one.  "Just to show you I'm not cruel,
you can have some tea with me while I explain things to you," she stated.

"Jonathan, you are a failure as a man.  You couldn't get in the military.
You can't even get a decent job and you have no money.  Your puny size and
I'm not just referring to your height, combined with your lack of courage,
makes you noting more than a sissy.  We have them in my native country as
well and don't mind.  They are accepted and tolerated.  So that is what
I'm going to make you.  Yes, don't look so startled.  All you have to do
is look into a mirror and see what you really are.  What I have done is
not that much but I'm just getting started.  You agreed to stay here under
my terms, so you will accept what I have decided.  You may still leave but
I don't think you will, looking like you do now.  You only have what I
gave you to wear and can't change what I have done to your appearance,"
she stated.

"Maria, please don't do this to me.  I'm no sissy.  Look I promise to keep
my room clean and find a job somewhere.  I'll...I'll even pay rent or
whatever I can come up with.  Just don't humiliate me like this," I
begged.

"I married your father to get my citizenship papers.  Now that he is gone,
I have absolutely no obligations as far as you are concerned.  You did
nothing to help me or even try to be friends with me ever since I arrived.
You never attempted once to be nice to me.  I owe you nothing!  Nada!
However, I do have my baby sister that I want to bring to the States.  As
it stands, I can only get her here on a tourist visa.  She has a very
dominant personality and will never submit to a man.  Maybe she will take
a liking to a sissy boy like you.  I have sent her the money to come and
she will be here in two weeks.  If she likes you then you can marry but we
have a lot of work to do before she gets here.  You do this and marry my
baby sister then I will give you as a wedding present half the money your
father left me.  If you agree, drink your tea.  If you do not, leave now
just as you are," she said.

Most of what she said didn't surprise me as I figured out long ago that
was why she married Dad.  I was surprised to hear that she wanted me to
marry her baby sister.  I didn't even know she had one.  Marriage...but at
what price?  I didn't understand why I had to become a sissy for that.

"Maria, I'll marry your precious baby sister like you want.  I'll even be
happy to do it.  Making me into a sissy isn't necessary.  We don't even
have to like one another.  I'll do it then take off.  Neither one of you
will have to ever see me again, promise," I told her.

"Ahhhh, but you don't understand.  Under the immigration laws you have to
live together for at least three years before she can complete the
requirements to become a citizen.  Plus she has to meet a morals standard
which means she cannot be labeled a lesbian.  However, the law says
nothing about the U.S. citizen.  So you see, you have to be acceptable to
my baby sister for at least the next three years.  Now, either drink your
tea or leave," she informed him.

I sat staring down at my long plumb colored nails for a moment or two.
What choice did I really have?  The same answer popped up, I had to agree.
Hell, how much worse could things get.  Reluctantly, I brought the cup up
to my lips.  Maria had a big evil looking grin on her face as I drank my
tea.  I hoped that I hadn't just made the biggest mistake in my life.

Ooo

I can't believe what has happened to me over the past two weeks.  Once I
had said yes to Maria's crazy plan she got to work.  On that first day,
she took me up to her room where she removed the curlers from my head and
brushed it out.  Damn, I looked like Orphan Annie.  She didn't stop there
and started handing me clothing to put on.  Green full cut nylon panties
with lace around the leg holes.  A white nylon/spandex training bra with a
pert pink bow in the center, slightly padded cups and slipped over the
head was next.  It certainly wasn't one of hers and I had no idea where
she got it.  A white nylon camisole with pink eyelet lace decoration
across the bodice and two inches of floral lace at the hem followed.  It
clung to my torso snuggly and the hem didn't reach my navel. A matching
half-slip with two inches of floral lace at the hem was handed to me.  She
had me sit on the bed as she pulled white nylon ankle socks with a deep
frill of pink ruffles onto my feet.  The socks were followed by a pair of
her white kids with pink laces.  They were tight but fit.  Standing back
up, she slipped a white cotton sundress with pink ball decoration, scooped
neckline and spaghetti straps.  The dress did nothing to hide the bra's
straps.

She had me sit at her vanity after showing me how to scoop my dress back
under my butt.  There she applied foundation, eye liner, eye shadow and
mascara.  Using a lip liner to make my lips look bigger, she then filled
it in with a rich lustrous plumb lipstick.  Spaying me down a generous
application of floral perfume, she pronounced me ready.

"Ready for what?" I asked.

"Why our shopping trip of course.  You don't think you can keep on wearing
my clothing, did you?  Here take this purse.  I already put the essentials
in it for you," she responded.

Talk about weird.  Stepping out into the open air wearing a sundress and
lingerie sent the strangest sensations crawling up my spine.  To begin
with, the clothing was so light weight compared to my own it felt like I
was wearing nothing at all.  When the slight breeze lifted my skirt and
flowed up my hairless legs, well let me tell you that was an eye opener.
Add those sensations with the tightness around my chest and pull of bra
straps, the weight of makeup and aroma of perfume my mind was overwhelmed.
I think I actually blacked out for a moment because the next thing I was
aware of was Maria telling me how to enter a car.

As I sat facing away from the car, getting ready to swing my legs into it,
a gust of wind blew my skirt up into my face.  I still can't believe that
I screamed just like a little girl when that happened.  I tried to scrunch
down into my seat as she drove off but she would have none of that.

"Right now you could pass as a rather flat chested girl.  If you don't sit
upright and do exactly as I tell you, I will tell everyone we meet that
you are my sissy step-son which reminds me.  We have to give you a girl's
name, unless you want me to call you Jonathan.  So what do you think about
'Trisha?'" she stated.




I became Trisha as she parked the car in front of the largest thrift store
in town.  I'm sure plenty of the store's patrons recognized me for what I
was but nobody said anything.  I got some stares and heard enough giggles
to let me know that.  Maria was determined and greatly embarrassed I did
my best to cooperate.  Dresses, skirts, blouses, short shorts, Capri
pants, a couple of skinny jeans with floral embroidery on the legs and
backside, one pair of black dress slacks in a crepe de chine, bras, lace
frilled slips and camisoles, panty girdles, two utilitarian corsets,
garter belts, four very feminine nylon and chiffon baby doll nighties, one
florescent pink satin robe, accessories such as belts and purses and
finally about a dozen pairs of shoes.  The shoes were mostly sling back
sandals with nothing less than a three inch spiked heel.

Buying the clothing was one thing but she made me try on almost
everything.  I was mortified each time I stepped from the dressing room
and she just had to examine the fit adding to my humiliation.  One of the
first items she had me try was one of the corsets.  It wasn't sexy by any
stretch of the imagination.  It was made of heavy cotton and satin with
metal boning and reinforcing criss-crossing straps.  It reached from just
below my breasts down to my groin and laced up the back.  By the time she
had me tightly laced, I could barely breathe.  My already thin waist was
pulled in to no more than eighteen inches.  I couldn't wait for her to
take it off but despite my pleas made me wear it.

"You need to keep it on so we can get the right sizes for your outer
wear," she said with a satisfied smile.

With the corset on she had me try each bra for a proper fit.  They were
all padded 34 "B"s in white, blue, yellow, beige, red, black, peacock,
teal and pink.  I thought I was going to die when she had me step out of
the close confines of the fitting room into the communal area.  I put on
and took off dresses, skirts, blouses, pants and shorts in record time
blushing furiously.  At last we went to the check out with me wearing the
corset, white 34 "B" satin bra, ecru nylons attached to the corset's
garter clips and three inch pink sling backs.  With the car practically
fully of bags and boxes, I let out a long sigh glad that this trip was
finally over.  Yeah, right, there I go thinking again.



The next stop was the local Target where she purchased my cosmetic and
hygiene needs plus about two dozen nylon brief styled panties.  Walking
down the feminine hygiene aisle always gave me the creeps.  To actually
stop and examine many of the items and listening to Maria tell me the pros
and cons was beyond words.  I wanted to die right then and there.  Maria
handed me her credit card and told me to check out while she got the car.
I'm positive the check out girl knew who I really was.  It seemed like she
called for a price check on each of my hygiene purchases.  With each price
check, I felt my face flush red and thought my torment would never end.

Maria dropped me off at the house and after all the bags and boxes were
unloaded went to do some more shopping.  I was told to remove all the tags
from the clothing and wait for her return.  As she put the car into gear,
she also told me not to remove any of the clothing I already had on
especially the heels.  Drat!  The heels were killing my feet and I hadn't
been in them for much more than an hour.

I was so engrossed in my task I didn't here Maria come in.  Lucky for me I
still had on those detestable heels but I was sitting on my bed.  I jumped
when I heard her say, "I've got packages in the car.  Go get them and
bring them in here."

As I brought box after box up to my room, I began regretting my decision.
One box had padded pink coat hangers.  Another was filled with woman's
magazines and romance novels. Still another filled with a magnifying
mirror, brushes and combs, hair dryer and steam rollers.  Where was I
going to put all this stuff?

That problem was partially solved when a vanity with lighted mirror and
pink satin padded bench was delivered to the house.  I cringed when they
put it in my room.  It was so girlie, painted bright white with golden
grooves running the length of the spindly legs and around the mirror's
frame, dainty gold knob handles and pink satin skirting.  That vanity
completed the look Maria wanted for my room.

My room, yeah, the day after our little shopping spree, Maria made me
paint my room.  My light blue walls were repainted a soft pink with mauve
boarders.  A large fuzzy pink area rug was spread out on the floor.  The
bed not only had pink sheets but was draped in pink skirting and the
pillows engulfed in pink ruffled lace covers.  The beside table had a
square of pink nylon covering it with a white ceramic doll lamp and a
white cat faced alarm. One wall sported a large portrait of a ballerina
dressed in a flaring stiff white tutu poised on the tip of one toe with
her hands touching over her head.  The other wall had a boy band poster
and one of Justin Bieber, ugh!  The bookshelf that I had to paint bright
white contained a full shelf of romance novels and two shelves of girlie
magazines.  On the top shelf, right in the middle, Maria had placed a big
fuzzy stuffed bear wearing a pink tutu.  On each side of the bear was an
artificial flower arraignment.  The navy cotton curtains on my only window
were replaced with pink satin drapes with a white lace overlay.  To drive
the feminine touch home, my computer desk had a bright pink computer
sitting on it along with an oil lamp.  That damn lamp made sure my room
was permeated with the smell of flowers.

My room embarrassed me and looking back, I'm surprised I didn't raise any
objections.  Guess I was too afraid of being kicked out dressed in full
feminine regalia.  It my bedroom embarrassed me, my bathroom humiliated
me.  The linen closet was painted pink and any thing white not nailed down
was removed.  Fluffy pink towels and wash cloths had replaced them.  My
toothbrush was even pink damn it.  Then there were the other additions.
Bath salts and beads, body moisturizers, sponges, plastic shower caps in
assorted pastel colors, pumice stone to smooth my heels and elbows and
talc dispenser with a big fluffy applicator were the least embarrassing.
The linen closet's top two shelves were covered in my new hygiene supplies
like my douche kit, super tampons with pink plastic applicator, maxipads
and lubrication for those sensitive areas and treatment for feminine itch.

Over the next two weeks I learned how to use everything in my bathroom.  I
spent hours upon hours sitting in front of the vanity mirror learning how
to correctly apply cosmetics and style my hair.  There wasn't much I could
do to my neon red hair.  Maria, once my room was put into order, took me
to her hair dresser.  There I was given a tight perm, pedicure and
manicure and my brows thinned to feminine arches using laser technology.
I was assured that I would never have to worry about plucking them again.
Before we left Maria made a standing appointment to have the hair on my
face, neck, chest down to my groin permanently removed.  By the time they
had finished removing all my unwanted hair, I was left with a precious
butterfly shaped pubic thatch just above my dick.  Oh yes, it was dyed
pink.  What the hell is it with women and their fascination with the color
pink?

Ooo

It was time to go to the airport and pick up Maria's sister, Isabella
Maria.  Yes, Momma had just switched their middle names.  Well, I hoped
that Isabella was as good looking as her sister.  She was five years
younger than her sister which made her five years older than moi.  Maria
forced me to go with her.  During the past two weeks, I had been taken out
in public a few times but was nervous and scared.  One of those trips was
to a mastectomy shop where I was given a pair of "B" cup surprisingly
realistic breast forms.  I objected when the clinician applied special
glue to their back telling Maria they would hold for six months.
Obviously my plea didn't do any good.  I'm even getting somewhat use to
them.  At first I hated them.  They kept bumping into my arms or into
something and limiting my gaze whenever I looked down plus it made
slipping on my stomach uncomfortable.  I guess she could have given me
some humongous ones so I aught to be thankful.

For the trip to pick up Isabella, Maria picked out a horrendous outfit for
me.  I objected to her choice, rather, I begged on hands and knees but it
did no good.  The bright red panties and matching bra were no biggie.  I
had to struggle a bit getting the panties situated under the hem of my
corset.  The only time I have been let out of that hated garment was bath
time.  A pair of red knee high nylons were next then a pair of canary
yellow polyester/spandex Capri's pants that fit like a second skin
reaching to just below the knee followed.  A light red chiffon off-the-
shoulder midriff ruffled blouse completed my dressing.  The blouse didn't
come close to covering my bra straps and not much to conceal the bra.  All
I had left was to step into a pair of four inch spike heeled red patent
leather strappy sandals.

Next, she had me apply my makeup.  Black liquid eyeliner highlighted both
upper and lower lids while blue blended into green eye shadows coated
them.  A wet glossy fire engine red lipstick was used to paint my lips.  A
good spaying with a heady floral perfume and she pronounced me almost
ready.

I needed accessories of course.  White plastic bangles went on both
wrists.  Four inch gold hoops through my lobes and a gold chain belt
around my waist.  My hands were encased in white fingerless lace gloves.
To make everything perfect, she folded a bright yellow satin scarf and
placed it just above my bangs leaving the red spring curls at the top


showing and tied it off in a floppy bow at the back.  When I saw myself in
the mirror I almost cried.  I looked just like some cheap floozy at worse
or a character out of an old I Love Lucy sit-com.  As we left my room, she
handed me a red patent leather letter purse.

I think I blushed from the time we left the house until sometime after we
returned.  It was humiliating for me to look the way I did, standing at
the luggage carousel, flapping my wrists up and down as I minced after
Isabel's luggage.  I know I was the laughing stock of the entire airport
by the time we got back to the car.

Yeah, that brings me to Isobel.  My hopes were dashed as Maria squealed
and wrapped her arms around the woman stepping out the gate.  Isobel was a
bit shorter than Maria, pear shaped with a big butt and thighs and damn
little on top.  When she smiled, her teeth were crooked and her nose a bit
too large.  Her black hair was cropped short and looked greasy.  Oh, be
still my quaking heart.  My future wife has arrived.  Yeah, that last bit
was me trying to be sarcastic.  I really had to question my decision to
marry Isobel just for money.  I still didn't have any alternatives and
Maria had taken a whole bunch of very embarrassing pictures of me.

Ooo

The wedding was scheduled for the fourteenth which was slightly less than
two weeks away.  Isobel was given the small guest bedroom until the day.
During that time Maria kept me at my feminine routine and training
schedule.  I went along with it figuring that once the wedding was over I
could go back to being me.  I also got to know Isobel a little better and
it wasn't good.  She was even more dominating and demanding than Maria had
been.  She was also a lot more physical.  She always seemed to have this
little leather whip with her and she used it freely on my ass or thigh.
If I didn't do something she wanted done immediately, that whip stung like
the blazes.

The wedding was a simple affair with a Justice of the Peace.  Isobel wore
a white tux with satin lapels and a white top hat.  No, I didn't have to
wear a white satin wedding dress but I might as well have done so.  Maria
selected for my trousseau a pair of white flare leg velvet pants.  The
flare on the pant's leg started at knee height widening as it reached the
cuffs to about two feet.  The length of the pant's legs required that I
wear a pair of three inch stiletto white satin pumps.  The tux styled
satin blouse was a baby pink color with vertical knife pleats and white
fluffy lace jabot.



It was tailored to fit my corset enhanced curves and darted for a tight
fit over my breasts.  A bright pink satin cummerbund fitted around my
waist.

For lingerie she selected pink silk brief styled panties, ornately frilled
and beribboned garter belt, pink satin with white lace adornment wasp
waist corset and satin push up bra.  Sheer white nylons with floral lace
welts and the traditional blue ruffled garter completed my dressing.  My
only accessories were white lace fingerless gloves and rhinestone tiara
with a short white chiffon veil attached.  Blushing bride certainly
described me as I walked down the aisle.  I felt like a glowing beacon as
I slow stepped to the chorus of "Here Comes the Bride."

With all the legalities over including the Green Card application, we left
the Justice of the Peace's for home.  At this point I figured that my
duties were over and done with.  Yes, I knew I had to physically live with
my wife for the next three years but I didn't think I would have to keep
up this sissy façade.  She could have my old sissified room and I'd take
the much smaller guest room.  No harm, no foul or so I thought.

As soon as we entered the house in the late afternoon I headed for my
room.  I was stopped in my tracks when I heard Isobel shout, "Just where
in hell do you think you are going?"

I told her I was going to my room to change then move out to the guest
room.  "'You promised to love, honor, obey and submit!' or don't you
remember your wedding oath.  Well?  Isn't that what you said at the
altar?" she stated.

I thought it was just words that didn't really matter since we weren't
actually getting married.  So that is what I told her.  She stood glaring
at me and I could tell she was getting in a very foul mood.  Her face
became this blotchy red looking color and her lips were pressed tight.
She marched up to me and slapped me across the face so hard that I fell to
my knees and my tiara went flying.  There I go thinking again and see
where it got me.

"While you are down there, you may kiss my feet as you beg forgiveness.
You are mine now and you will obey me in all things or else.  Now start
begging my forgiveness or you'll get much worse," she demanded.




I certainly had things figured wrong but with my face stinging like crazy,
I decided that kissing her feet and begging forgiveness was a lot better
than having to actually kiss her again.  Once at the altar was enough for
me.  Kissing her was like kissing a cold brick wall.

Once I had lavished enough effort on her feet, she sent me to her room.  I
was to pack up all her stuff and move it into our room.  She instructed me
not to change and that she would be there shortly to consummate the
marriage.  As I went off to do her bidding, I hoped that her pussy wasn't
as cold and hard as her kisses were.  I was putting away the last of her
clothing, when she entered our room.  She was grinning from ear to ear,
smelled of alcohol and there was a large bulge in the crotch of her dress
pants.  That leather whip was in her hand and she swished it against her
right thigh.

She marched over to where I stood and smacked that whip hard against my
left thigh.  I howled in pain only to have a red ball gag thrust into my
mouth and secured behind my head.  She stepped back and said, "Now let
that be a lesson and don't give me any shit.  Strip and do it slowly and
sexily once I get into bed."

She quickly stripped off her tux.  Underneath, she wore a white leather
bra and a great big realistic looking dick and balls strapped to her
groin.  When she jumped onto the bed, that dick and balls swayed and
bounced like the real thing.  I stood there with my mouth filled by the
ball gag trying to think of a way out.  A loud "thwack" as the whip hit
the nightstand got me moving.  Swaying my hips and shoulders, I began to
slowly strip out of my wedding attire.  She told me to keep the corset and
nylons on but to remove everything else.

Stripped as directed, she sat up and put her legs over the side of the
bed.  Isobel told me to come and kneel between her legs.  When I did so,
she undid the ball gag and put it on the nightstand.  She had me perform
oral sex on her dildo until my jaws ached.  She got off the bed and forced
me across it, spread my legs wide and without preamble shoved that shaft
deep inside my virgin hole.  I screamed and cried until I lost my voice.

When she finished reaming my poor hole, she pulled me up onto the bed,
straddled my head and forced me to suck her dildo again.  Fortunately,
Maria made sure I douched daily so it wasn't nearly as bad as it could
have been.  Cleaned to her satisfaction, she grabbed my ankles, shoved my
knees into my chest and entered me again.  It wasn't as painful this time
but still hurt like the dickens.  I won't go into all the details of what
happened that night but suffice it to say that by morning I was completely
broken.  It was mortifying having to take that bloody sheet outside to
hang on the line.  Isobel wanted every one to know that the bride was
truly a virgin and truly fucked that night.

Ooo

Like I said, after that night I was broken.  From then on I offered no
resistance to any of their demands.  I was kept on a strict diet, given
female hormones, did all the household chores.  To keep up appearances, I
was given five sets of maid's uniforms to wear during the day.  They were
all "A" line styles, made of semitransparent nylon with white cotton
pointed cuffs and collars.  They were all different colors, white, blue,
pink, yellow and black.  The black one was for more formal occasions when
they entertained other Filipino lady friends.  I really hated those get-
to-gathers.  It seems I was a great amusement for them.  It pleased them
no end to have a white American boy wait on them hand and foot.  It turns
out they most of them worked as maids for white families.

Soon after they started me on female hormones, Isabel removed my
artificial breasts and began making me use a breast pump twice a day.  At
night, she enjoyed pulling on my nipples until they were red and swollen.
Fortunately she only used her dildo about once a week.  I think she did it
more to keep my spirits broken than for personal pleasure.  Most nights I
spent between her thick thighs lapping and sucking on her smelly pussy.

During the day I washed the dishes, did the laundry, ironed, vacuumed and
all the assorted household chores.  I was always in uniform with the
proper lacy underwear showing through the thin nylon of the dress and a
ruffled white apron.  My makeup was always done in a night time look and I
always wore at least three inch spiked heels.

I occasionally was allowed to dress as much like a man as I could.  The
effort was not always successful.  On those occasions, I would accompany
her to her citizenship classes.  Apparently, this made her look good in
the eyes of the Border Patrol staff even if they frown upon me.





After my first year of conjugal bliss, my breasts were a nice firm "A" cup
with half inch nipples.  For my anniversary present, Isobel gave me nipple
extenders.  She also rode me hard that night.  She pounded that dildo into
my ass, pushing up and down, pushing side to side until I passed out.  My
poor hole had a one inch gap in it from then on.  She also decided that
night that we needed to get out more.  So every Friday evening, she would
dress me up then take me to a bar frequented by Filipinos.

For those night outs, she would dress me in sexy lingerie usually bright
red or yellow undies with nylons and sky scraper heels and a tight short
skirt and semi-transparent frilly blouse.  Occasionally when she felt
especially naughty, she would dress me in black lace frilled undies with a
little black dress.  It didn't take me long to become a favorite with some
of the local men.  Isobel insisted that I go back with them to the john.

At the end of my second year of marriage, my breasts were a "B" cup with
one inch long and half inch wide nipples.  For my anniversary present,
Isobel had my nipples pierced and gold hoops inserted.  She also had a
small green parrot tattooed over my left shoulder.  Then she reamed me out
but good once again.  After two years of brutal use, my ass hole was
always agape but at least the severe pain was no longer an issue.

My second year followed pretty much the same course as the first.  I was
still the house maid, I still had to use the breast pump twice a day and I
still had to go out with her to the bar.  By now, if you didn't look
between my legs you would think I was a trashy woman.  Not that there was
much between my legs anymore.  Thanks to the hormones and girdles my penis
and balls had shrunk noticeably.  When I did ejaculate it was in small
quantity and thin.

My third and final year is here.  For my anniversary my beloved gave me a
garland of flowers around my left ankle and a colorful butterfly tattoo
over my right breast.  My breasts are now a "C" cup but my nipples have
stayed the same.  As a final gift, she had my tongue pierced and screwed
me unmercifully.  Maria got remarried to an old boyfriend from the
Philippines and was planning to move back there when my three years were
up.  Now sometimes I have to help him get ready for Maria at night.  We
still go out almost every Friday to that same bar but now it is the four
of us and Miguel, Maria's husband, enjoys telling all his buddies what
great head I give.  Towards the end of the year Miguel and Maria went back
to the Philippines.  With the inheritance money they can live like kings
over there.

At last the end of the third year and Isabel is given United States
Citizenship.  I'm free now and willingly sign the divorce papers.  As a
parting gift, Isobel gives me four new tattoos.  One over my left breast
is a red heart with "Isobel" written in black ink through the center.  A
garland of thorns is inked around my right wrist and a twisting floral
vine is drawn across the saddle of my back.  The center piece of this
tattoo is a broken red heart sitting right in the middle of my back.  As a
final gift, she gives me a one way plane ticket to the Philippines.  I
have to go if I want my half of the inheritance money Maria promised to
give me.  Isobel certainly didn't have it.  So I went.

Well, it's been five years since I came to Manila.  I've been Maria and
Miguel maid all this time.  When I had first arrived here, Maria just
laughed when I demanded my share.  There was no way for me to get it from
her as she had given it to my wife.  It didn't take me long to decide that
I was well and truly fucked again.  I had no money, no place to live, no
food and damn few clothes.  Maria said she would take me in if I would be
her live in maid for five years.  After that time she would see to it that
I got safely back to the good old U.S.A.

Well it has been five years now.  She did keep her promise but now there
is no way I could ever pass as male.  I am permanently stuck with my only
job skills as that of a maid.