© Copyright 2017 - Sandra Steeple-Langford - Used by permission
Storycodes: Solo-M; cd; fem; makeup; clothing; wig; tattoo; clubs; dance; chat; flirt; she-male; kiss; mast; sex; climax; F/m; lesb; tg; maid; training; castrate; urine; school; discipline; hormones; transform; bodymod; enslaved; cons; XX
Part 1. Coming Out
I made the decision today. I am going to ask if I can have a boob job. After a year on hormones I have grown small puffy attractive boobs that women seem to love touching. Perhaps my boobs remind them of when they were feeling their own rising sexual appetites as they developed their teenage boobs or perhaps they bring out the latent lesbianism in some more mature women who sometimes become attracted to the teenagers beyond their normal reach and substitute me in their desires.
I have enjoyed those desires and the attention from some very beautiful women but today I decided that I needed the equipment to attract handsome men not women if I was to become the full woman I believe is my destiny in life and I am to serve men not a female mistress.
I have just spent a whole year in a lesbian run school for correction of males and managing their transformation into women. I am not the most beautiful of the pupils but I believe that I am the best lesbian lover. However, that does not fulfil me any more so I have decided that before my final operation I need to investigate the possibility of a relationship with a man.
I have lain awake many nights wrestling with the uncertainty of whether I am really a homosexual but afraid to admit it. I have loved and worshipped beautiful women all my life and I have enjoyed rampant and rewarding sex with them. I have never fanaticised nor desired men in the way I believe homosexuals do. The problem has always been that I have wanted to be the women I have been making love to rather than being me doing it. Sort of taking not receiving sexual advances. Many of the women I have loved have told me that I am a great lover and I believe that is because I have enjoyed teaching myself what women really like in a sexual relationship rather than what will satisfy the male me. I have practiced my beliefs at every opportunity. My latent reason for that is obvious. I want those things to be done to me.
I began to experiment with dressing like a girl when I was a teenager. I stole into my mother’s room whenever I could and tried on her things. I quickly found out what suited me and built on my discoveries. The more I looked like a girl the stiffer my cock became and the more I wanted to become a better girl and to be a girl more frequently. I devoured women’s fashion magazines and the female pages in the newspapers. The latter often had items located in the high street stores that resembled the latest fashions by designer names and I would seek these out so that I was always “a la mode” and did not look like so many closet TV’s wearing Granny clothes. By the time I left school, I had a full female wardrobe, including jewellery and makeup spread between 3 large suit cases hidden in the loft but with key items spread but hidden around the house so that I could dress less fully for short periods while mother was out shopping for example.
My life began to change permanently when my parents went away for a weekend, something very unusual for them. I had the whole weekend to be a girl and to enjoy every minute. I approached it with carefree abandon, not thinking of the consequences of what I was doing. I had already had my ears pierced some months before to the disgust of my parents. They had put it down to a teenage rebellion. Friday night, after they had left I plucked my eyebrows, bleached my chin length hair, applied some gel nails and painted them and my toenails. With my bra and pants on, some skinny leggings, loose top, high heels and large hoop earrings, I sat at mother’s dressing table with my makeup in front of me, ready to complete the transformation, just as mother would have done. But there was one thing missing. Mother always had a cigarette while putting on her makeup and by the time she had finished she usually had two stubs with red lipstick on them in the ashtray.
If I was going to be a real grown up girl, I needed to do the same, but where had she put her spare cigarettes. I needed to find them as I had not purchased any. I hunted high and low and finally found a complete unopened carton of 200. If I opened it she would know I had taken some. To hell with it, nothing was going to spoil my wonderful weekend. I lit my first cigarette, inhaled and held it as mother did then exhaled slowly watching in the mirror to see that I did it in the proper feminine manner. I had studied so many beautiful women smoking. I felt slightly woozy but it looked great. I put the cigarette down in the ashtray and commenced the ritual of applying my makeup. With much practice over the years, I had become quite proficient at it and with three coats of mascara, face shaper and deep pink lipstick to match my nails, I had finished before I had even finished my first cigarette. I must be missing something or I am too good at doing the job; but I looked good. Yes, that was what required the extra time, I had not done my hair. I normally wear a wig but now I had women’s blond hair to dress, but I was not expert in doing that! I got out the curling tongs and started to put some shape into my crude haircut but it was not working. Much to my disgust and disappointment, I put on a wig before I went downstairs for a G&T in front of the TV with a relaxing cigarette, to plan my first full weekend ever as a girl.
The gin and cigarette added to my already strong sexual arousal so I returned to the bedroom to admire myself in the mirror. By moving the wardrobe door and the dressing table mirror, I found that I could lie on Mother’s bed and watch myself from both the front and the side. I had a terribly urgent bulge in the front of my skinny pants that completely ruined my girly look and that needed to be dealt with. I stripped off my pants put on some open fronted knickers and my high heels and lay back on the bed with my cigarette, ash tray lighter and mother’s vibrator. She did not know that I had discovered where she hid it and I had often borrowed it for special girly cums. Sometimes I would suck it while masturbating. Other times I would use it to stimulate my prostate, which could bring me to a hands free orgasm and sometimes I would use it to tickle my male clitoris, the piece of erectile skin that joins the foreskin to the penis head.
Today, the last of those techniques would be most appropriate, a girl masturbating alone in her bedroom and I would take a web cam of it happening. I set up the computer then arranged myself so that I had a superb view in the mirror. I had already freshened my makeup and fixed and sprayed my hair. It was perfect as I lit my cigarette, picked up the vibrator, wet it in my mouth to add lubrication and set it purring on my clitty. I inhaled deeply and began to purr myself. Deep drag followed deep drag and then my straining cock took over. My body arched and I came with floods of semen shooting all over the bed. Also, in my ecstasy, I dropped my ciggy and before I could do anything about it I had burnt a hole in the sheet.
All was lost. There would be no way of explaining the damage away and to make it worse, the pillow was covered in makeup so I could not just say anything that would not reveal my secret, or could I? Perhaps I could say that I took a girl to bed and that she was a smoker and had run out of ciggies so I gave her some of mothers’ and I was so good at fucking her she dropped her fag. Father may just think I am a bit of a lad and not the homo he thinks I am. On the other hand, mother would see through it straight away and doubly so when she sees my hair and nails. There was nothing for it but to enjoy what time I had left and stand up to the music when it comes.
My tremendous cum and my fright about the damage had fixed the bulge in my pants. I shaved my pubic hair, pushed my balls up in their sacks and taped them in place before taping my soft cock between my legs to create a perfect camel toe when I put my pants back on.
Stage two of my adventure then began. I had never been out in the real world before and this would be the time to break the duck. I checked my hair and makeup, nails and packed my handbag with spare makeup, a tampon for authenticity, purse and money and my newly acquired habit, some ciggies and a lighter. I tiptoed out to my car so the neighbours would not hear my heels. I got into my car and started the engine. It was 22:30 and late for me to be going out so it disturbed the neighbours but I was off out of the drive before they got to the window. I do not think they could be sure what they saw, so I was safe and on my way to Fulham for my first visit to Ted’s Place (Club) which welcomes TV’s.
As I drove along the busy streets I did not seem to raise any attention from passers-by until I had to stop at some traffic lights for groups of people to cross the road. Amongst them were some lads that had clearly had a few drinks and one came over to the car for a chat. I was scared ridged while being excited beyond belief. Relief came quickly as the lights changed and I was able to speed away, but not before blowing him a kiss, which received a sexual come on in response.
I parked in a nearby street close to the green door that is the hallmark of the club and walked carefully towards the club hoping that I would see others going in but I had no luck. I knocked gently then harder when no one came. The door opened a little to reveal the beautifully made up face of someone who must be a drag queen from the OTT look she had. I stammered something about wanting to join and I was shown inside, signed in and payed for membership and the entrance fee to the two girls at a table just inside the door.
I descended the dark stairway to the floor below which comprised a bar with impossible saddle shaped bar stools, some tables and chairs and a dance area with a dark corridor at the end leading to the toilets.
Which toilet should I use? I was busting to go? The answer was easy. The corridor was full of girls and a few chaps in various stages of undress, ass fucking and cock sucking and there were no labels on any of the doors. I passed one really beautiful she male with real boobs in a low fronted jumper sucking a big black cock with three admiring M&S dressed middle agers encouraging her. There was a drag queen type with her bottom perched on a radiator, legs wide, smoking while a skin head covered in Tattoos was fucking her ass. She seemed to have no interest in what he was doing and just wanted to get it over with. I squeezed past and went into the first cubicle that was empty and was entertained by the squeals of delight emanating from the one next door.
All these goings on had made my cock try to stiffen under its taped constraint and it became very uncomfortable so I closed the door, which did not have a lock and painfully removed the tape for a pee. Like a good girl, I sat down to do it but my cock was so hard and erect the pee would not come and my cock could not be bent downwards enough to release into the pan in any case. The door pushed open gently and I said, there is someone in here. The TG who had been blowing the black said, I hope so. She looked at my erection and said we had better deal with that or I would be there all night and others need to go! She stooped over and kissed me gently while grasping my cock firmly in her long nailed hand and started to wank it. God it felt good. As I got closer, she stopped, saying it would be a shame to waste all my tasty cum and clamped her red lips around the knob after peeling back the foreskin. She began to suck, gently at first. She pulled out her tits and began to tease her nipples as she sucked hands free. So many people, porn stars included, do not realise that it is the sucking that works not using the mouth as an alternative and poor substitute to a pussy.
She sucked harder and even harder and, instead of it feeling painful, it felt great, the head swelled and I shot deep into her mouth. She did not stop sucking but continued and I shot again and again until I could stand it no longer and said stop, stop and pushed her away. She smiled, showing me a mouth full of cum as she leant forward to kiss me deeply, letting me share my first taste of semen ever. I was not sure about the proposition but warmed to it as I held her close and played with her beautiful breasts. I desperately wanted some of those.
As we broke our embrace, I looked up to see that we had an audience of 4 or 5 girls watching, two of them with cocks in hand.
My girl, and I still do not know her name, turned to the audience and said, bugger off you lot in a half male half female voice and they all evaporated. She then showed me how to tape my cock using a cross of tapes so that the pee hole could remain free. She said that I would have to dry myself well after peeing as it would spray everywhere but that it would work. She then disappeared into the night.
I made my way into the bar area after first repairing my dishevelled looks in front of a rather inadequate stained and broken mirror and resolved to ask someone if there was a better one elsewhere in the place.
I could not get comfortable on the bar stools so stood in the corner with a G&T watching the comings and goings and listening to the drag queen DJ playing music so load that everyone had to shout, but no one was dancing. There were about 4 tables with people sitting at them, mainly M&S girls, a few of them were clearly regulars and were deep in conversation. At the other end of the bar were a few gay chaps in their tight tee shirts and jeans with closely cut hair drinking pints and not paying attention to anything in particular.
Time was passing slowly for me and I was just thinking of going when there was a commotion in the stairs and about 20 people flooded in. They were mainly drag queens and their followers, both male and female and they were all in party mood. Most of the queens had the normal overdone, larger than life, appearance but one was really beautiful and not quite so overdone. I made a bee line for her as I hoped to be able to learn about her makeup techniques and how she was able to show such a feminine profile.
Strangely, she did not seem to be such an integral part of the crowd. I offered to buy her a drink and we quickly became friends.
Sonia was a TS earning some of the money she needed to have the operation by working in drag shows and behind bars but did not get as much work as the more brash girls. They tended to do better in the bawdy atmospheres of the gay bar and club fraternity. She did not tell blue jokes but sang a little and danced. She said that the more she looked like a girl and behaved as a girl the less interesting she seemed to be to the booking agents. She said that it was very different in the USA where drag beauty pageants were all the rage and she felt that she would do well in those.
We talked about her makeup techniques and how she cut in her eyelid arches and slimmed her nose and emphasised her cheekbones. I marvelled at her cute her soft hands and her long nails. She said that she spent a fortune at top hairdressers as it was the only way to develop a female image on a man’s face but she had tattoo lines on her eyebrows, in the new modern style and an outline for her lips that gave them a slightly pouty look. She had been to voice training and could now achieve a more female voice but really needed to have her voice box surgically changed to achieve a satisfactory result.
There was so much I had to learn and so much more I wanted to ask her but an unusually smart young man came down the stairs, kissed her and whisked her away but not before I gave her my phone number in the hope that she would call; but who would she call? I am nameless!
By the look of the comings and goings from the corridor to the toilets there would be little chance of having a pee and getting out alive so I decided that I would leave as it was now 02:30 and I was very tired.
I tottered up the stairs to an almost empty street, lit a ciggy and walked back to where I had left the car. While driving home I racked my brains for an ideal and appropriate name for my new FEM self. All the standard girl names like Ann, Jane and Mary just did not seem to say enough and OTT drag names would be equally wrong. What I needed was a name that I could build a style around. I was too big to have a kittenish name and probably not striking enough to be called something like Margo. I did not want a corruption of a man’s name like Joanne. I was flummoxed.
There was no need to sneak into the house as my neighbours were well asleep. I ran up to my mother’s room, stopping briefly in front of the mirror to remind myself that I was a girl. I looked good and felt good but was a little dishevelled after my evening out. I cast off my clothes and still taped up put on my nighty and sat down for a pee. It sprayed everywhere but seemed to work so I dried up with a tissue and went to bed with my IPad. Propped up on the pillow I searched for some she-male stories, hoping to learn something more about what I could become and what I could learn. I lit a ciggy as I settled down to read one by Sandra Steeple Langford. It was magical, not from what it taught me but from the insight it gave me about the dilemmas she-males face. Perhaps I should call myself Sandra; no Sandy would be better. I will think about that. The sex in the story really turned me on and my taped cock had become painful. I needed to deal with that but without the painful removal of the tape.
I rolled over and found mother’s vibrator, another ciggy and the ash tray. I did not care about the mess it would create. The bed was already full of stains. I lay back, took a deep drag on my ciggy and sucked the vibrating cock in my smoke full mouth. It did not feel good as it was cold and too hard to feel like a real cock. I thus slipped the now wet vibrator in my mangina and adjusted it so that it would massage my prostate. It felt good but I did not have enough hands free to do all the things I wanted to do to myself. I knelt up so that the end of the vibrator was on the bed and I could press up and down on it. That worked and I had one hand free to squeeze my nipple and one to hold my ciggy.
Things were getting better as in this position I could see myself in the mirror and that added to the excitement. I practiced looking like a girl cuming and with my taped cock out of the way, I almost looked like a girl riding a real cock. I copied the advice in the story I had just read and took three large drags, held them and let them go as I reached my climax. With my cock taped up and this being a prostate cum, it was not so much an ejaculation but more a long continuous dribble which gave me a dull but prolonged crescendo. It was a new and enjoyable experience which I would build upon as I became more feminine. Afterwards, I did not feel as if I had cum, so I did it again and had another two cums before I was satisfied. This girly thing is working out really well!
I curled up and fell into a satisfied deep post orgasmic sleep.
Wow. It was nearly noon and I had slept through too much of my preciously short girl time. I bathed, did my makeup and put on some jeggings and a casual top with suitable day jewellery and some boots with a medium heel. I needed to do something about my hair. I decided to book an appointment with a stylist, but not in an area close to home. I looked through the yellow pages and found one a few miles away that had a well know brand. I explained that my DIY bleach job had not gone to plan and I needed urgent help as I was going out tonight. The salon was most helpful and booked me in for 1500hrs. They did not seem at all concerned that I must have sounded a little masculine but it may be a different story when I turn up dressed as a girl.
I had a few hours to kill before the appointment so I decided to go to the local tattoo parlour and get my lips and eyebrows done like Sonia’s. The girl in the parlour, who was covered in tattoos and piercings, seemed used to dealing with people who had unusual requirements and just said go inside the cubicle and someone will be with you shortly.
A woman in her thirties eventually came in and said, "So you want to look permanently like the girl you wish you could be. How much are you prepared to spend?" I did not know how to answer that question, so said as much as it takes.
She suggested that I should not go for too deep a lip colour and to keep the line close to my lips as it could be made bolder in the future if I liked the result. Similarly she said that I should have my brows done with a series of fine lines like hairs rather than just a bold pencilled shape. I agreed and she began by numbing the skin with some cream. The real pain then started and I winced. "Don’t be a baby!" she said, "it is painful to be beautiful. Just wait until I wax the whole of your body when I have finished this tattoo work".
"But!" I said. Before I finished she replied, "You said you were prepared to pay what it takes and I think of you as an interesting challenge. You are not going to be allowed to leave before you have a perfectly smooth girlish body".
The tattoos looked great so she had me strip off for my waxing. "Neat job", she said looking at my taped genitals and without a further word she ripped off all the tapes in one swift move. My shout of pain and surprise must have been heard a mile away.
"Well, I can see why you want to be a girl. Your cock is already fairly small. I bet you think of it as a large clitty".
I was not sure about whether that remark was an insult or a compliment. It offended my manhood but as I was now trying to remove my manhood, I took it as a compliment.
I won’t go into the long and painful waxing process save to say that my whole body was covered in red blotches from the trauma of the process. However, I was really smooth and pleased that it had been done. I paid up my £350 with a gulp and went to sit in a cold bath to try and reduce the redness. I then applied skin cream so that I felt soft and smelled sweet as well.
I decided to walk to the hairdressers as it was only a mile, or so, something that, as a man, would have been no trouble at all. However in my heeled boots, I wasn’t even half way before I was regretting my decision. By the time I arrived my feet were sore and it had taken me ten minutes more than I had available. I was late.
A girl was at the door waiting for me. She tilted her head to one side and said, "Now I understand. We had better go into one of the booths". We did and I took my wig off to reveal my matted blonde hair beneath.
She said, "What should I call you?" As if by magic my name came into my head. "Heather", I said, "at least some of the time and I want there to be more Heather time. I desperately need you to help me make my hair look good in a style that suits me and that will make me look more feminine".
"I’ll do my best", she said, "but it is going to take some months before it is long enough. Also, looking at what you have already done to it, I wouldn’t want to start from here!"
"Let’s give it a wash, condition and trim for a start", she said and reclined the seat so that the back of my neck was nestling into the shaped basin. It was lovely being pampered and not at all like the quick trim and conversation about football one has at the barber.
She said that my hair needed to be grown much longer before she would be able to make me look good but that she had some hair pieces that she could use to provide a better style and that she would give me a basic bob cut. She worked wonders with a pair of tongs adding both volume and curl so that the false pieces did not show and I looked like a blonde with bubbly hair and long tresses at the sides and back.
I felt great as I patched up my makeup at the mirror and filled in my newly outlined lips for the first time.
"Come and see me every 2 weeks", the girl said "and I will make you look good enough to eat!" but who would eat me?
I almost bounced along the road sporting my new, almost real hair. I kept looking in shop windows to catch my reflection. I was so entranced that I almost forget my aching feet but suffered the result when I got home.
I made a cup of tea and had a ciggy with my feet up. They needed to be refreshed as I was planning a full evening out tonight as it would be my last one before mother came home. I went upstairs and sorted through my suitcase wardrobe and chose a little black number with a straight across neck at the front, long tight sleeves and a very low back indeed. If I stick on my silicone breasts and hip pads I can achieve a really slinky female shape, even if my waist is not that small. The stick on boobs create the effect of a pert bouncy bosom which is nice to brush against and works as long as I do not get too sweaty as that melts the glue.
Having walked to the hairdresser and home again with my genitals hanging free I also needed to do something about taping them back into place before going any further with my transformation. I hoped that no one had spotted my bulge but it was clear that the hairdresser had done so.
I needed a permanent solution, so I googled and found a Japanese site that showed how to use superglue to create a female look. I thought that I would give it a go. The idea is to push ones balls into the body, as with taping, stretch that empty skin tight over them to hold them in place and then to stick the skin flaps together with superglue. This also forced my cock down so that I was flat. It was not as neat as on the videos but I could learn to do it better with practice and it seemed to work. I hated to think what would happen to the glued scrotum if I got an erection!
I then showered my already smooth body, shaved my face (I needed to do something about that) and sat before Mother’s mirror wearing my silky negligee ready to put on my makeup. I had remembered what Sonia had said about cutting in the various face shapes and went on to YouTube to see some demonstrations which helped no end.
I had fun for the next 2 hour experimenting and have to say that the result was certainly better than I had previously achieved. I had a ciggy to celebrate and was aroused by the sight of my lipstick on the end of my ciggy. This made my cock strain painfully against its glued restraint but the pain sort of made it limp again, which was good.
I stuck on my boobs and hip pads and rolled on some hold-up stockings. I then stepped into my dress. I decided to be a real slut and to not wear any pants. I felt great as I studied the map of how to get to the Way Out Club, another London transvestite haunt.
The web site makes a big point of saying that no sex is allowed on the premises. This is a shame as it is a much larger venue attended by a many more and different types of people than Ted’s Place. Anyway I was not so sure what kind of sex I might have been looking for or how I could participate with my glued up cock!
The club does not open until 21:00 and I did not want to be the first person there so I sat primly watching TV until 21:30. I put on my chic evening coat then went out to my car with gay abandon as I no longer cared if anyone saw me in my new role. I had come out.
I drove through the busy streets of London to Minories where the club is located under a railway arch. When I got there I was surprised at how wide the road was and how little privacy the surroundings afforded. Also, despite all it said on the web site, vacant street parking was difficult to find and when I did find a space, it seemed to be a very long way away. Although there were not too many people about, I got out of the car very nervously and then thought “what the hell” and tottered off in my heels to the club where I joined a short queue of girls entering. It is evidently cheaper before 23:00 especially if one comes already dressed.
Well it was a much larger and a little less seedy a place than Ted’s with a bar, dancefloor, a small stage and an outside garden where one can have a ciggy.
There were already more people there than at Ted’s when it was full but everyone seemed to be in groups or with boyfriends or girlfriends and fully occupied so I felt very alone. I purchased a G&T and went out into the garden where, to my surprise, I saw Sonia sitting alone on a table bench crying. I went over and put my arm around her shoulders. She turned to face me a burst into floods of tears.
Evidently, her boyfriend had dumped her. He had whisked her off from Ted’s Place where we had met the night before, fucked her hard, and then coldly told her that his wife had found out he was having an affair. He could not let his wife find out that the affair was with a transsexual so, not only did it have to end now but they could never acknowledge each other ever again.
Sonia said that she loved him. Evidently, he had promised to pay for her sex change operation and then to marry her after it had been done. She no longer had a lover but worse she had nothing to look forward to. He had told her he was unmarried and that he was planning to live with her in the lead up to the sex change. He would support her during the trauma of the process, mental, physical and with the administrative bureaucracy. That was no longer possible and she had no way of paying the rent from her part time bar and drag jobs. Her heart was broken and she would never trust a man ever again.
I bought us both anther drink and I gave her one of my ciggies. She did had not smoked before but found it soothing. We talked, and she cried and we talked and I cuddled her. Eventually she began to feel better when I offered to come and live with her to see if I could help and perhaps join her in having a sex change. This seemed to console her a little.
We went off to dance together. She put her arms round my neck and held herself close to me. Her breasts were really beautiful and felt soft to touch, unlike what I had imagined an implant would feel. My cock strained against its super glue and hurt like hell. Despite our closeness, I could feel nothing stirring between Sonia’s legs.
I was just about to kiss her when two guys came up and said, "We can’t have two beautiful young girls dancing together". Without a word, Sonia released me and flung her arms round one of the guys; so much for not trusting a man again!
I had no option but to follow suit and was grateful that it was a romantic slow number.
My partner’s name was David and he was staying nearby in an hotel as he did not live in London. He evidently visited the club every weekend because he loved being with Pre-Op. girls. He was not interested after the change had been made. I guessed that he was a latent homosexual who found it easier to accept that he was if he were to be seen with someone who looked like a girl.
He was a good dancer and was not bad looking, although I had never before considered what men looked like. He kissed me and it felt strange but nice. I enjoyed the fact that I was responding to his approach and I sort of melted into him. I felt secure and close in his arms and began to wonder where this nearness would be going when the music stopped.
With his arm round my waist he guided me to the bar and said, "Why don’t you find Tom and your friend? We could all go back to my hotel and have some fun". I was not sure how to answer that. I was not sure about any relationship with a man and my glued up cock would be a problem. "Feel my cock he said it is rock hard for you but be careful that no one sees you as they will throw us out if they do!"
Now, I have never felt a man’s cock before and I have only seen other men’s cocks when they are flaccid in the showers after rugby practice. We both turned towards the bar as I said, "I will have to think about that but I would like a G&T". Standing close by David’s side, with the bar in front of me I was able to feel his cock without anyone noticing. I put my hand on his bulge and it did feel good. I had difficulty persuading myself to let it go. Compared with mine, it was a very large bulge but as I could not find where he had hidden the crown I had no way of assessing its length. He turned his head towards me and whispered in my ear, "I bet you would like to try sucking that, sexy bitch!" But I never got to find out.
Even if I had plucked up enough courage to try. Sonia came over alone and crying again. She said that all men are the same. Tom just wanted to pick her up for a quick screw. He was just like all the rest. "Come on", she said, we are leaving. I picked up my coat and she said, "Where is your car?" She evidently did not have one and had to rely on others to shuttle her about.
It was only midnight and I was not really ready to leave. I was still trembling at the thought of me touching my first cock and wanted to know whether, indeed, I wanted to explore it with David or any other man for that matter, but it seemed that I had no option.
"Where are we going?" I said as we got into my car "To my place", Sonia said; "that is if you still want to live with me?"
"Live with you", I echoed, as I had not thought through our previous conversation. I had just said what I did to give her more confidence. Consequently, I was a little quiet as we drove along together, me in my evening coat and Sonia with her very short skirt and her ample boobs hanging out the front of her exceptionally tight dress. Every time we stopped, men turned to look into the car, but I am sure that no one noticed me. Sonia seemed to revel in the attention and became quite turned on by the time we arrived at her ground floor apartment in Bloomsbury.
I say apartment but it was more like a bed sitter. There was a large double bed, a dressing table with lights all-round the mirror, two other full length mirrors, some suit cases and two easy chairs plus a large coffee table. Apart from that room there was a kitchen with a breakfast bar and two stools and a bathroom with only a hand shower. The décor was half feminine pink and half homosexual bling. There were dishes in the sink, clothes on the floor and you could not get another item of make up on the surface of the dressing table.
Sonia did not seem to care about how she lived and even less about how she handed out her favours. "Don’t you want to fuck me?" she said, stepping out of her dress and leaving it on the floor? "No", I said, "but I would like us to make love together". Her mouth dropped and she ran to me, holding me close and whispering endearments to me. She obviously had a large gap in her life that she needed to fill but could I trust her to mean what she said about anything. Tonight would be my chance to find out.
I took out my ciggies and said, "Why don’t we share one as out first enjoyment of something together?" She seemed hesitant, then opened the French doors to the garden, pulled up one of the easy chairs and said, "Let me sit on your lap". How could I resist, although I would have preferred sitting on her lap. We kissed and cuddled and kissed each other’s necks, I lit the ciggy and we took it in turns to drag deeply. Then I had a drag, held it and kissed her deeply, releasing the smoke into her mouth as I did so. "Wow, that was sexy", she said. "Let me do it to you", and she did, then each of us did it in turn until the ciggy was finished.
She looked deeply into my eyes and she said, "that will be our special caress, that only we can do together".
She then jumped up and returned from the bathroom with some solvent and a cloth. Take off your knickers she said I am going to release you from your bonds so that I can give you a little cum to say thank you for being my new best friend. I just pulled up my skirt as I had no knickers on.
As I did so she removed her own knickers and with one swift move ripped off her tapes. "Wow that always hurts", she said "but I never have to have my bikini line waxed".
Her cock was very small and her balls seemed to be small but contained in a very large almost empty sack. I went over to inspect them and held them gently. "That is the price of having beautiful boobs and a curvy soft skinned body", she said. "The hormones emasculate you so I can’t fuck any more. There is no going back".
"But can’t you cum at all?" I said.
"Oh yes, of course, but it is different and in many ways better". She walked over to her bedside drawer and took out a long slim pink vibrator. "I use this on my prostate and it gives me girly cums. My cum oozes out rather than ejaculates. I have a small cum but it does not end there as I have not ejaculated, I can keep going, perhaps 4 or 5 times more until I feel complete. So it is not as intense but it lasts longer and is just as satisfying in the end. I am trying to train myself to have these girly cums with real cocks but most men have no idea what to do except shoot their load as quickly as possible. They do not understand about the prostate, so I have to come home afterwards and sort out my own frustrations with my vibrator".
"Darling", I said, "you must teach me how to have girly cums as I want to become a real woman. I cannot stand being a man in woman’s cloths like I am now!"
"Come over here and let me unglue you", she said. Sonia began to dab solvent on my skin. It took some time and required several soakings before it released but when it did my cock sprung to attention, inches from her mouth. "Are you sure about that?" she said as she hungrily sucked and massaged it to an even more heightened level of excitement.
"Perhaps not at the moment", I said and sunk onto the bed as my legs gave way to the trembling in my groin.
She pushed me back so that I was lying flat on my back with my cock standing to attention like a lamp post. She knelt astride me and with her left hand behind her she grabbed my cock and fed it into her waiting mangina. She pushed gently at first and as the head stretched the hole the whole shaft sunk in easily up to the hilt.
She threw her head back as she began to trust up and down and as she did the natural juices began to flow. I felt as if all control was being lost as I lay there motionless being milked. Just before the point of no return, Sonia stopped. "Hey", I said, "why did you stop?"
"I remembered what you said, you wanted to make love to me; this is your chance. See if you can give me a girly cum while you are cuming inside me yourself".
She got off and lay at my side with her legs spread wide. She invited me with her open arms to fuck her like a man and wife would do. I entered her gratefully and she flung her arms round my neck, kissed me deeply and said, "Remember where my prostate is. You need to thrust upwards to rub it and if you do so with long slow strokes you will be able to please me without cuming too soon yourself."
I did what she asked and she writhed and gasped each time I thrusted, then relaxed, then did it again and again until she pulled me closer and whispered into my ear, "Give me your wonderful seed now darling and let’s have a baby together". The thought sort of excited me, but I was so close already there was no holding back and I exploded inside her. I rolled off her leaving her mangina dripping cum and promptly fell asleep.
I awoke at 10:00, with my arm loosely draped over Sonia’s curled up body. She looked so beautiful and feminine but then I caught sight of myself. I was a complete wreck with smudged make-up, messed up hair, half in female cloths with a flaccid male cock, looking worse for wear from its gluing.
I had to fix myself up before Sonia woke up so I rushed to the bathroom and locked myself in.
I bathed using Sonia’s bath oils and creamed myself all over. I put on my underwear and then spotted Sonia’s silk robe on the back of the door so put it on top. I only had a lipstick and mascara for what I had expected would be touch up use, so I had to go into the bedroom and use Sonia’s make up if I was to return myself to any resemblance of a woman. I also needed to do some regluing of my padding as the bath water had melted my fixing away.
I crept back into the room only to be confronted by a wide awake Sonia, sitting on the side of the bed swinging her legs to and fro. "Need some help?" she said.
"Yes", I replied, "that is if you can bear to look at me?"
"I might be able to when you have dissolved away the stubble on your face", she said. "I have some fast acting cream in the bathroom cupboard. Put some on and wash it off after 5 minutes; they say 4 minutes but it takes longer on you face. Here is some glue for you curves and you can borrow one of my bras as you were not wearing one when you came here and cannot go home to get your things wearing evening clothes". I did as she said and came back with a smooth face, a curvy body under Sonia’s robe, but a half empty bra as my falsies were much smaller than Sonia’s real tits. Perhaps I need to rethink my idea of the ideal shape and size!
Sonia had made coffee and with it had counted out seven pills each. "You need to take these", she said. "You will need the same number at lunch, dinner and again before you go to bed. You will need a full regimen if we are going to have any chance of making you look like a real girl. I will share my pills with you until you have your own supplies. You can purchase them on the internet. You need female hormone tablets, anti-male hormone tablets, some that do the latter as well as reduce hair growth and some to help with your diet as the hormones make one put on weight as well as to improve the distribution of fat in a helpful way."
After coffee, I went into the garden for a ciggy and to think. Sonia did not come with me nor seem interested in having a ciggy either. When I returned she was dressed. Last night’s heavy eye make-up had been removed and she had re- applied foundation. She looked great, just like that and I said so. She replied, "You may think so but I would never go out without my war paint!"
"Sit in the chair with your head back on the cushion so that I can get at your face", she said. She then proceeded to kneel astride my legs on the chair while she deftly applied foundation, face shapers, highlights and concealers. She then blended everything in with a pearlescent blending powder.
"Now you know how to do that properly", she said, "it is your turn to make the coffee. Get some paper and a pen from the kitchen drawer and you can make a list of the make-up you need to buy and the pills you need to order".
When I came back with the coffee Sonia said, "I would like a ciggy this time please and to hell with it, it is our home so why shouldn’t we smoke inside it."
We smoked and drank together as she continued her schooling in make-up application so that we both ended up with lipstick marks on the end of our ciggies before we had finished them.
My hair was the next task. I had to move to the stool in front of the dressing table mirror for that process. Sonia moved round me with the curling tongs, adding lift and curl as if she were a professional and I commented as such. "Well I am", she said. "How do you think I pay the rent? I work at a local salon some weekends when they are busy. Otherwise I have always to rely on men for the balance so it will be good to have someone living with me to share the costs in the future".
"But", I said, "do you really want me here with you all the time and how could I do that without a job. I will certainly have lost mine if I turn up with female hair, tattooed lips and brows and long nails, even if I wear male clothes with them".
"Well, we will have to find you a female job", Sonia said "and the sooner the better as the rent is due next week. Here, put on these jeans and top and go home and get your things. The sooner we improve your femininity the sooner we will be able to get you a job".
I slipped on the clothes, my evening shoes, touched up my lipstick, checked my hair and left.
It felt the most natural thing in the world just to walk down the street and get into my car dressed as a girl in full daylight. I had begun the rest of my life and did not care a dam what anyone thought. Quite frankly, no one seemed to be taking much notice of me.
I drove home and using that same aplomb just got out of the car and walked into the house.
I collected my suit cases, grabbed a large soft bag and threw in all the clothes I had hidden round the house, then my make-up from the dressing table, the rest of mother’s ciggies and a few bits and pieces of mothers that I had grown fond of. I thought about including her vibrator but decided that would be a step too far. I then stripped the bed, put the dirty sheets in the laundry and threw the burned one in the dustbin. My male clothes followed the sheet.
I went to the study to collect my bank book and check book and put them in my hand bag along with my credit cards and passport. I then found some note paper to write to my mother:-
I am writing to you as I know Father will not understand but I hope you will do. I am not a homosexual as I like girls not men, at least not in the way that father believes I may do. For a long time I have been experimenting with dressing as a girl and the more I do it the more I believe that I should have been born a girl. This weekend, I decided that I wanted to become a girl full time.
I met another girl who is more advanced in the transformation process than I am and she has agreed to help me through the many dilemmas I will be facing in the months and years ahead. She has suggested that I move in with her and to become two girlfriends sharing a flat together as many young girls do.
I am not going to tell you where it is as I need some time to settle my thoughts before we meet again and please, please do not try to find me as my mind is made up. When we meet next, I want you to meet your daughter not your son. I may not by then have all the female parts but you will be in no doubt that I am not the person who has just left home to begin a new life.
I am sorry but some of the events of the weekend did not go to plan. I used your bedroom for some of the time. I got the sheets dirty and I am afraid that I burned a hole in one of them by smoking one of your cigarettes. This is because I am not an experienced smoker but I would like to become one in my new role. It looks so sexy holding a cigarette in my long red fingernails and leaving lipstick in the end of it when I stub it out, just like you do.
I have taken the rest of your ciggies with me to tide me through until I can buy some and I have taken a few of your things that will remind me of you when I am wearing them. I hope I you look as sexy in them as you do.
I love you mother and will call you as soon as I has settled in.
Please believe me that I am happier now than I have been all my life so far.
Your loving daughter
I put the letter in and envelope addressed to Mother and left it in the kitchen on my way out.
I couldn’t care a damn about the neighbours who were glued to their window as I loaded the car with my cases and bag. I turned full front towards them and blew them a kiss before getting into the car and driving off.
The Lesbos Connection
Part 2: I am a Girl at last
When I arrived at Sonia’s the door was locked and she did not answer to my knock. Had she changed her mind? What should I do? I had burned all my bridges at home as my parents would soon be arriving in the drive.
I decided to walk down the road towards the nearby shops and restaurants and see if Sonia had slipped out to buy something. I felt alone and very self-conscious.
She was not in the “one stop” nor the paper shop or the restaurant next to it but, thank god, she was in the wine bar, sitting on a stool swinging her legs and talking to three guys while sipping a drink. I opened the glass door gingerly and tried to call Sonia in the most girlish voice I could muster. She turned round and said, "Heather my love, come and meet the guys. They were just about to buy me some late lunch. Do join us", and I did.
During lunch we talked about nothing but sex and Sonia lead the discussion. She told them that she would soon have me looking absolutely girlish, but for the meantime, all the guys should take advantage of enjoying my cock which still got very stiff, unlike her own. I did not know where to look for embarrassment. She then went on to describe what each of the three of them had between their legs and what they liked to do to her. Evidently, one guy called Freddy, likes to put the vibrator up his bum while he is fucking Sonia. She suggested that he may enjoy having me fuck him while he is fucking Sonia. I did not wait for the answer as I was not mentally prepared for that but I have since yearned to know.
I said, "Could you let me have you flat keys so that I can move my things in". She gave them to me but said, "you need to be able to pay the rent you know! I would not turn down the opportunity of earning some from enjoying yourself with these guys!"
I struggled up with my luggage and began to unpack before I realised that there were no wardrobes nor drawers except for those in the dressing table. Fortunately these were empty so I had somewhere to put my make-up as there was certainly no room on the top surface. Sonia seemed to run her life from a suitcase. I could not contemplate doing that and mentally planned to buy a wardrobe and some draws from IKEA. For the meantime, I put my silk pyjamas under a pillow, my make-up in the drawers and stacked the cases in the corner.
I had just about finished when Sonia walked in, a little drunk and holding her knickers in one hand and several £20 notes in the other. "I need a ciggy", she said, "he nearly tore me apart! But at least we can pay the rent. You need to start getting some clients! It isn’t that bad if you just let them get on with it. They come in no time at all."
We sat on the wall in the garden and smoked our ciggies. I told her that I very much wanted to be her best friend and that I hoped that we could live together happily as two girlfriends. I would like her to help me with my transformation but that I could not come to terms with being a male prostitute. "I like girls not men, I think, and at least for now. That is why I want to learn to love you Sonia as you are half woman and half man. Also, it will be difficult for us to live together in this small space without any cupboards and without you being tidier than you are at the moment."
Sonia said, "I am not a tart and if you do not like how I live go somewhere else!" That told me!
This was not a good start to my new life. I needed to retrace my steps quickly. I put my arms round her and said, "I am sorry but so many things are happening to me in such a short period of time that I am just anxious".
I kissed her and gently caressed her breast. She melted into me and I carried her in and laid her on the bed. I kissed her all over and gradually undressed her while never stopping caressing each visible part of her body as it was uncovered. She lay there in ecstasy, purring like a kitten. I then turned my attention to her wonderful boobs. I sucked them each in turn while squeezing the nipple of the other gently until both stuck up like clothes pegs.
Her usually flaccid small cock was half hard and looked just like a giant clitoris. I reached for her vibrator and gave her a sex cigarette to smoke while I worked on her. She really had fallen into the ciggy sex spell as she drew on it heavily with every spasm her body felt. I slipped the vibrator into her mangina and pressed the vibrating head onto her prostate while I took her half hard tiny cock into my mouth. It felt strange but sort of good as long as I remembered that she was a girl.
It did not take long before her body started to respond, arching and thrusting and her cock did harden a little. Then she had her climax, not a girly one with a continuous dribble of cum but a male one which shot cum deep into my throat. It was a surprise and I nearly pulled away but forced myself to continue until I had extracted the last drop. I then kissed her deeply and we shared the first mouthful of cum I had ever tasted.
Perhaps I was a homo tart after all as it really turned me on and I enjoyed it?
Sonia held me close and whispered that she had never had such a wonderful cum ever before and that she would love me forever if I did that to her every morning and every evening for the rest of her life. I doubted that she could cope with that many cums, but I said I would try.
"Right", she said, "let’s go out and see if we can get someone to buy us dinner".
"But I look a mess!" I said and I thought Sonia did too.
"Let’s do each other up", she said, "to look good enough to eat and we will go to the Black Cap at Camden. There are always some big cocks there and I fancy a black one! There is a drag show on so there is sure to be someone you can latch onto". My words and love-making had meant nothing to her. She was just a cum slut at heart, despite being so beautiful.
Sonia sorted through my top suit case and chose a long glitzy top I normally wear with leggings. "What a super dress", she said.
"I can’t wear that as a dress", I said, "it will show my hip padding and my legs are not good enough in any case".
"I’ll wear it then", she said, and promptly put it on and sat at the mirror to do her face.
"What about me?" I said, so she motioned me to the chair where she had done my make-up last time and proceeded to trowel it on so that I looked like a Drag Queen.
"I do not like what you have done to me", I said.
"See you later then", she said and walked out.
I wiped some of the layers off and found myself a top, trousers and high heeled boots to wear. I back-combed my hair a little to give it height and vowed to go to the hairdresser again next week. I put a fresh pack of ciggies in my bag and went out alone. I did not fancy going to Camden so just walked up the road to find a café where I could sit outside and have something light to eat and to take my double dose of hormones as I had forgotten to take them at lunch time. I took my IPad with me so that I could order my own pill supply, particularly as I was not sure how long the relationship with Sonia was likely to last. I eventually found a small café with a vacant small table outside and a Wi-Fi sticker on the door. I plonked myself down, no longer caring whether people thought of me as man, woman or just weird. I asked for a coffee and a burger; I had enough money for that.
I started placing my hormone order when a woman asked if she could join me at the table as it was the only seat left outside and that she was dying for a ciggy. What could I say, but join the club and lit one of mine as well? We smoked for a few moments and then she said, "I think I have seen you about but I cannot place where, perhaps it was in the wine bar or one of the clubs. Do you ever go to the Way-Out Club?"
"Only once", I said, "and I cannot believe that I was that unforgettable amongst all the people that were there".
"No matter", she said. "I go there because I like girls and it is one of the few places where not all the lesbians want to be men. You are clearly a man who likes women more than you like men. We are also both smokers so we have something in common. Can I stay here and have something to eat with you?"
"My name is Janette", she said, "but you can call me Jan".
"I’m Heather", I replied. "Nice to meet you".
Jan ordered an open sandwich and a glass of wine and we chatted some more. I told her about leaving home, meeting Sonia and about having just started to take hormones. "We must become friends", she said, "I would enjoy watching your body develop and taking you shopping as you become more feminine. I will have much more empathy with you than Sonia appears to have as I like girls not men".
We finished eating, had a ciggy and left together to go our separate ways but it turned out to be not only in the same direction but into the same building. "Now I understand everything", Jan said, "I have seen you in several places with Sonia and the one I remember was you having a ciggy with her in the garden at the club. Fancy a night cap?"
I climbed the stairs with her to the third floor and entered her somewhat larger and considerably tidier apartment. It was beautifully decorated and had stylish furniture in the lounge and presumably a bedroom elsewhere. I sat beside her on the sofa and sipped a G&T. "Share a ciggy with me", she said. "You looked so loving with Sonia I was quite jealous. I cannot understand why she treats you like she does".
I said that I would love to share a ciggy with her and said that I had a special deep and sexy way of doing it which we should try. I lit the ciggy inhaled and held it then kissed her deeply at the same time exhaling into her mouth. She loved it and put her arms round me and held me close. "More", she said. "Fill me with your smoke and make me your addict that only you can satisfy".
I loved the idea and by the end of the ciggy my un-taped cock was ruining my girly lines. "Hide that horrible thing", she said, "and come and make love to me like the real woman you are trying to be". She led me to her sumptuous bedroom. It was somewhere I could feel really girly and sexy in. Everything was white or baby pink and made of soft gossamer or satin fabrics. The lighting was low in a warm colour and the higher than usual bed had a massive high, thick and soft headboard in shinny powder pink satin.
I did not dare strip and reveal more of my maleness but kicked off my shoes and began slowly to undress her as we stood before the long mirror in the corner. She was facing the mirror with me behind her so that most of my masculinity was hidden. I kissed her neck and caressed her body as I unwrapped my cherished parcel of femininity. Her skin was like porcelain and had no blemishes. Her hair was luxuriant wavy brown and cascaded over her shoulders. I wished that I had hair like it. Her dress dropped to the floor to reveal pert small breasts encased in a turquoise satin and lace trimmed balcony bra with matching knickers. Her waist was thin but so were her hips and shoulders. There wasn’t an ounce of spare fat on her. She was shaped but not rounded and I was reminded of the saying, 'the nearer the bone the sweeter the meat' and she really was sweet. I could understand why other women loved her.
Standing in her medium heeled shoes, her thin body looked taller than it actually was. Her head came up to my ear when I was wearing no shoes so that with my higher heels and a lift in my hair, I probably looked a foot taller than her to any passer-by; not exactly my most feminine trait.
I put my hand under her chin so she could not look down and turned her towards me to kiss her and lead her to the bed. Using one of my male skills I squeezed open her bra from the clasp at the back and cupped her breasts gently, admiring their perfection and wishing that I had some for her to play with. There was no question of any plastic surgery. These small but heavenly mounds stood proud showing erect nipples, despite there being no physical support. She lay back on the bed, drew her legs up and invited me to smell, touch and taste the nectar in her honey pot. She was beautiful soft sweet and juicy and as I lapped away her juices flowed and flowed. I drank the nectar with relish and longed for the ability to have someone do the same for me.
She tensed a little then sighed. "That was a nice appetiser", she said. "Pass my ciggies and we will share one together before you finish me off."
We sat side by side facing each other as one would do in a kissing chair. I drew heavily on my ciggy and addicted her in the way she craved. As we came to the end of the ciggy, I began to play with her clitty but she said, "No, use your mouth but build up to being a little bolder with what you do".
As I began, she gave me instructions about how and where to apply my mouth and tongue. She encouraged me by saying that’s good and don’t stop, then finally she lifted her legs up high, tensed and grabbed my head. She held it hard against her pussy, jerked and convulsed while grinding my face into her until she came and squirted my mouth full of her piss as she relaxed. "Wow, that was good!" she said. "I think I have taught you a lot today and you might even get good at female sex by the time you have grown your own breasts".
"Now I need an after sex ciggy. You had better go off into the toilet to have your own and to relieve yourself in a place where I cannot see you!" I did and it was great but lonely.
Jan said that we should see more of each other but that she did not want to come between me a Sonia. She said she wanted to help make my transition successful and she would enjoy monitoring my body change. She suggested that I call by the next morning at 1100 as a doctor friend of hers called Karen would be there for morning coffee and she could advise me on whether I was taking the right doses of hormones and other drugs. Jan suggested that I should not wear anything sluttish; I did not think I ever did; saying that Dr Karen was an extreme Dyke and hated all men. She would be pleased forcibly to destroy all men one by one so would be pleased to know that I was volunteering to be transformed. Many of the men she had worked on were being forced by their wives or girlfriends to become female and most were not good candidates.
I left and returned to an empty bedsit. I undressed, put on some of Sonia’s perfume and noted that I should buy some for myself now that it did not matter if there was a lingering smell the next morning. I stepped into my silk pyjamas and popped into bed. The door opened and in burst a drunk Sonia, still wearing my top as a dress. Her tights were laddered and there was cum running down her legs but her make-up was perfect. She obviously did not allow clients to kiss her while fucking her.
She stepped out of her clothes, threw back the bed covers on my side and said, "Well aren’t you going to fuck me like you said you would". Without waiting for an answer, she pulled down my pants and sat astride my cock. She began playing with her nipples and fucking my cock slowly. She lit a ciggy and bent forward to kiss and blow smoke in my mouth. My cock hardened and it began to feel good. "That’s better", she said. She grabbed two vibrators and shoved one in my ass and then fed one inside hers along with my cock. "That is even better" she said. "Now it is really a throbbing cock rubbing my prostate".
Her cock hardened a little and I took it in my hand, or rather between my fingers as it is so small. I pulled her down and we shared some more ciggy as our bodies became overcome by the artificial stimulation until we both came with simultaneous girly cums. My stomach was covered with her juices and she scraped them up and we shared them. "Do it again!" she said and we did twice more before she rolled off and promptly fell asleep. She was in the nude with the vibrators still buzzing so I cleared up, covered us both and fell asleep myself.
The next morning I awoke to find Sonia trying to climb on me again. "Hang on", I said. "Don’t you have to go to work and what about looking for work for me?' I added?
"I knew that you would try to get out of your obligations", she said, jumping up and beginning to dress. She put more makeup on top of last night’s uncleansed and over made up face and said that she would ask around about a job for me and left.
I had the day to myself. My bank book showed £1325 which would keep me going for a while but I really did need some work. Also, I needed to resign from my current job. I could no longer do it looking like I did. I took my pills with a cup of coffee and a ciggy. I then showered, oiled and pampered myself and made a shopping list to which I added hair removal cream as I had used nearly all of Sonia’s. I had not dressed thus far but I did some clearing up then completed my dressing and makeup, just in time for my coffee meeting.
I almost did not notice Jan who opened the door for me as Dr Karen was standing tall straight and elegant squarely in front of me in the doorway. She had strong features a severe hairdo, pulled back in a bun which emphasised the glossiness of her black hair. She wore a smart black suit in a peplum style which showed off her small waist, rounded hips and full bosom. In her black pointed patent heels she was well over 6 feet tall and looked quite Amazonian.
She looked at me quizzically and said, "So you want me to make you into a member of the master race?" I replied that I had decided that I was living a sham life as a man and that from now on I would live as a woman and do everything in my power to progress with a conversion to becoming a real woman.
"Shut up!" she said "and stop whining. You look a right mess. You don’t look or dress like a woman and every gesture you make is masculine. If you did not have some potential and were not a volunteer I couldn’t even be bothered with you. Go into the bathroom, strip off nude put on some perfume on so I can’t smell man then come back so that I can have a proper look at you". I did as she said but came back in wearing just my heels. "What did you not understand about what I told you to do?' she said and wacked the back of my legs with a cane so hard that I fell to the floor. I did not need to be told to take off my shoes.
"Lay on the table", she said. It had been prepared with a covering of towels. I lay there with my cock sticking up and my stick on boobs and hip pads I place. "What a terrible sight!" she said. "First of all we need to deal with that!" she said, swiping the cane across my cock. The pain was extreme but the trauma seemed to make it harder not softer. It was red and throbbing. "There is only one solution to this problem", she said, "as you clearly do not understand cock control". She stooped down and took out of her bag a device that looked like a large pair of pliers. She put a very small elastic band on the four pronged end, opened the pliers to stretch the band, and then slipped it over my balls. She pushed it as high as she could, tight up against my cock before releasing it. This caused the tiny elastic band to be released. It cut into the skin and flesh between my balls and my body cutting off the circulation from my body.
"There", she said, "your cock has already gone soft and those balls will be black by tonight. They will have dropped off by the weekend. You have your wish, you are no longer a man and the absence of your balls will keep your cock in control while accelerating the effects the hormones you are taking will have on your body".
I couldn’t speak. I was doubled up with pain. "Oh she is a baby", Dr Karen said, "what would she do if she were having a baby? Jan go and get her an ice pack to put it between her legs as I need to see what else we need to do to her".
"Now that she has no functional male parts, I want you to have her fitted with a tightly laced corset. She can wear a lighter weight one during the day but at night she must be put in to a strict discipline corset and laced two inches tighter than in the day corset until she has trained her waist down to 24 inches. By using this strict waist control and a diet I will give you, any weight the hormones put on will go only to the parts of the body we want to increase, the hips thighs and bust, with perhaps a little softening of the face".
"When we know in a year’s time what the hormones have achieved and whether there will be more change by continuing them we will be able to decide what cosmetic surgery you need alongside your sexual transformation surgery".
"Jan, please double the hormone dose and keep the cock and balls cold until the balls fall off. Heather should be fitted for a corset as soon as possible and in the mean time she can wear one of your old ones. I will see her again in a week but I must go now as I have another appointment". She stooped down and kissed the shorter, Jan, firmly on the lips and left.
"Come on now", Jan said. "Don’t be a baby. It is what you really wanted deep in your heart isn’t it?"
"Yes I suppose", I said, "but everything is happening so fast. What am I going to tell Sonia and what will I do about sex with her. She will throw me out if don’t perform at least once a day".
"Well, you have two options", Jan said. "You can either bring Sonia here for her conversion or you can move out and go to Karen’s school for transformations. They will train you to be a complete woman and manage all the processes but you will have to sign a contract for lifetime service to a mistress or entry as a prostitute in the stud for the men, with the decision on which of the two possibilities being taken exclusively by Dr Karen and her Board".
"Karen believes that women should take over the world as the absence of testosterone would prevent wars but realises that a limited number of men are required to provide babies. She keeps all her men in a stud community where they can fuck she-males as they cannot have babies but can collect sperm to be used to fertilise those of the superior race chosen to procreate. Other she-males are trained to be lesbian lovers for the master race and are kept in a harem or appointed as maids to one of the mistresses".
I could not believe what I was hearing but it began to sink in when Jan started to lace me into one of her corsets. My slim 31 inch waist was down to 28 but I could not believe that it could ever be reduced to 24 inches. "We will try to tighten you up an inch every month", Jan said. "It will be easier with a properly fitting corset, especially one made for night training. A strict diet will also help". She then took some measurements to send to the corsetiere.
"Well I think you are going to be a bit sore for a few days", she said "so you had better make sure you have plenty of ice in the fridge; off you go back to Sonia. You can call in any time but you must come here at 11:00 next Monday to see Dr Karen".
"Aren’t you going to say thank you" she said, spreading her legs to reveal a naked pouty wet vagina.
"Of course mistress", I said but she stopped me and said "Dr Karen is the only one who can appoint a mistress so I should call her Jan for now, but that did not permit me to treat her less reverently than any other member of the master race".
I fell to my knees and pleased her three times. She then used me as her piss pot and caned me for spilling a drop on the carpet before dismissing me.
Back at Sonia’s bedsit, I took some painkillers and examined my balls. They were already turning black and I wondered if I were to work quickly, whether I could cut off the band before they died forever. I got a sharp kitchen knife and started to pick at the band but could not raise it enough to get the knife under it to cut upwards. I had no option but to cut downwards and risk cutting my balls. I held them as far away from the knife as I could but the band was so tightly cutting into the flesh that I could not cut it without cutting myself. OK, I had to do it so I cut and the flesh began to bleed but the band stayed in place. It seemed to just be too tough so I bandaged the wound and lay on the bed wondering what to do next.
Hours went by and it was now dusk when the door opened and Sonia came in. "What have you been doing to yourself?" she said. I explained and she said she had already had two escapes from Lesbian mistresses but none had been as aggressive as mine had been. She looked at my balls and said, "Well you are useless to me now, you will not be able to work for some time, even if I could get you a job and you can’t do much for men any more. An advantage for you, however, maybe that it could result in you having a higher voice or is that only if you have it done before puberty?"
She then rubbed salt in the wound by saying I needed to give her a week’s rent and should plan to move out next weekend. What could I do or say? I was no longer in control of my life.
Sonia wouldn’t look me in the eye as she tarted herself up and said that she had better go out to earn some money as she would now have to pay all the rent herself. Then she turned towards me and said that I had given her the best cums of her life and she would miss me. That made me sad and my eyes filled with tears.
I didn’t see Sonia again as she did not return home that night and I made other arrangements for living the very next day.
When I awoke my balls were totally black but hurt a little less. I took my double dose of hormones and some pain killers then washed, put on my makeup and found a loose fitting skirt to wear that would not hurt my sensitive spots. The shape of the skirt and the corset improved my girly shape no end. At 11:00, I plucked up courage and knocked on Jan’s door to tell her what had happened. She put her arms round me and invited me in for a coffee and ciggy so that I could tell her what I had decided about the transformation school.
It all came out in a rush and between my tears coffee and ciggies, I told her about trying to cut off the band round my balls, Sonia’s response to my situation, my not being able to go home and being homeless and relatively penniless by the weekend. She did not say anything but went to the phone in the kitchen so that I could not hear any of her conversation.
After about five minutes she came back saying that Dr Karen had given her permission to admit me to the transformation school immediately and that she should look after me until the corsets were made and then to deposit me at the school for accelerated and intensive physiological and physical training. Jan said that I was not really developed enough as a female to take this giant step and it would be very hard for me to adjust and to catch up with the class. Evidently most of them had already lived as girls for more than a year before admission. However, she would do all she could to help get me ready for my giant step. She said that one advantage I had was that I had not learned any bad ways so I would only need training and not retraining.
She offered to start with my training straight away with voice and deportment lessons. She had me walking round the room in heels with books on my head and my legs tied together to make sure that I took small dainty strides. She taught me about talking more quietly and melodiously and how to pitch my voice a little higher. She said that I would need some surgery on my voice box to get a really good result but that if I practiced I would sound better than I did now.
By the time my Monday appointment with Dr Karen came round I was well rehearsed in walking and talking. I had had my hair recoloured into a less tarty mid-brown, my broken nail had been repaired and all my nails had been recoloured in dusky pink. My two corsets had been fitted and I was wearing the day version and my balls had dropped off, leaving a clean but still tender scar.
Actually, my cock looked lovely and was much more attractive without any delicate embellishments that just got in the way. I couldn’t wait until it got smaller like Sonia’s. Her balls had become useless because of the hormones, so why were they necessary at all. I would still be able to cum with my prostate. The absence of ejaculate was an advantage. My cums would be real girly ones with no mess!
Jan had fed me my hormones religiously and I was now beginning to feel tenderness behind the nipples that I could swear were a little larger. What joy!
I had been required to service Jan regularly as any maid would need to do. She also used me as her only piss pot every time she wanted to go. I was the only person that used the toilet.
Fortunately, she never opened her bowels. She said that shitting was a male preoccupation and she needed to be clean inside and out. Instead she went for colon irrigation every few days and while she was at the salon I began laser removal of my beard hair.
The moment arrived when Dr Karen visited. I opened the door to her wearing a French maid’s uniform, curtsied and showed her to her seat, lit her ciggy and poured tea for both her and Jan. Dr Karen kissed Jan hello, perhaps a little too sexually for people who were just good friends, and then, turning to me, said, "Let me look at you?" I did a twirl. "You are bit full of yourself!" she said. "You need some severe correction. Lift up your skirt and let me see how your balls are healing".
"Not bad", she said gently prodding the place where they had been with her pointed shoe. "It will still hurt for a while", she said. "It is amazing that the pain actually remains where the balls used to be and not in the area of the wound. Men retain the thought of the balls they used to have for many months".
I was nursing the place where my balls used to be when she said, "Stop that and let me look at your corset".
I stepped out of my dress. She looked at my corset then pulled at the laces. "Make them at least half an inch tighter", she said to Jan. I was told to stand on my toes with my hands in the air and stretch as much as I could while she tightened the laces. When it was done and I relaxed she announced that there had been a three quarter inch reduction. The pressure of it caused me to pass out. "What a sissy you are!" said Dr Karen when I came round.
"Let me see what Jan has taught you during your first week. Come and pleasure me while I finish my tea", she said. I crawled under the table and started lapping at her beautiful hairless vagina. It was difficult not to notice the size of her clitoris. It was about the size of a tiny cock and that prompted me to suck it. She went rigid but said nothing so I continued. I also decided to probe inside her pussy with my fingers and found the place where, in a man, the prostate would have been. Jan says that it is called her G spot. I massaged it while I was sucking. She jerked suddenly, pulled back from my face and said. "Good girl now you can light me a ciggy", which I did. As she departed she said to Jan, "You seem to have made good progress in a short time. Make sure Heather is at the school at nine o’clock on Monday and have fun in the meantime, she certainly has some potential to please a real woman".
On Monday I was already dressed in my maids uniform with my hair pinned up under a saucy little cap. Jan showed me how to improve my male receding hair line by spraying my scalp with spray on hair colour. One uses a piece of paper held an inch from the forehead to create a soft line and any overspray is masked by the makeup. My balls were feeling somewhat less painful but felt as though they were still there.
I entered the front door of the mansion house with trepidation to find Mistress Matron sitting behind her desk in the great hallway. The first thing Mistress Matron did was to examine my male parts. She popped my shrinking cock into its foreskin, called cock reversal, pulled the empty foreskin down between my legs and sewed it in place with a surgical needle. She said, "You will always be smooth down there now and that will do until you get the proper camel toe when we operate on you. Your useless Willy is now permanently hidden and as long as you sit down to pee and wipe yourself well afterwards, it will work fine. The stiches I put in will self-dissolve in a couple of weeks and there should then be a semi-permanent skin bond holding things in place by then. Now I have made you late for class so you had better toddle off to room 7 where this year’s intake is being tutored in sitting standing, walking and female gesturing".
"But I have done all that", I said, and received a sharp cut from a cane for my impertinence.
There were more than a dozen girls in room 7. Some of them were really beautiful. I sat next to one called Josie. None had proper boobs yet and all had their ankles chained together from ankle cuffs to limit their strides, all were wearing tight lacing and some had straps on their shoulders to stop them slouching. The teacher, Madam Beret, was lecturing is the seven ways that ladies should sit and recover afterwards. The one which I had never learned nor even considered before was how to get in and out of a car. "One must not put a leg in first but must swivel round and bend the knees so that the bum goes in first. The back must be straight with the face smiling a thank you to the man holding the door. One then swings both legs in together so that passers-by who may have cameras, cannot see up between your legs. The toes should be pointed and the knees lifted slightly to raise the feet above the door sill. When the door has been closed, the skirt is adjusted and the car sitting position is adopted".
If I were to write everything I was taught during the next year, this would be a very long story and I am sure the readers would prefer to hear about sex in the dorm.
The school course takes 3 years in total and, at graduation, all the girls leaving for their allocated roles have real boobs and vaginas and most were either stunning or super elegant, judging by the look of the final year students this year. Most have either black hair or blond hair and all are relatively tall and very slim. None needed to wear corsets but they were so used to wearing them that most do, although they were of a lighter weight than their bodies had been trained in. The girls seem to fall into two groups, those who were talking of finding husbands so that they could leave the harem, although I doubt that any will be allowed to leave, and those that had decided that they were lesbian and were seeking a permanent life serving a mistress. The latter group seemed to spend all night masturbating with their fingers or a vibrator. They never seemed to want anything inside their vaginas or bums they were just clitty girls.
I thought that it would be heavenly to have one vibrator massaging the prostate from inside the ass and another from inside the pussy. The latter group were horrified at the thought but the former thought it a good idea that they had not yet tried.
At the time girls enter year three training, they have been fully feminised and their final surgery has been completed. They are categorised for their future life style and physiological training intensifies. Practical sex training also begins so that on graduation they can be perfect partners in their selected roles. The girls that fall into the lesbian servant class have to do so much for their mistresses without reward or personal relief that they are forced to spend all night relieving themselves only to get caned in the morning if they are seen on the CCTV. One 6 foot blonde called Christine loved to smoke while she was masturbating and used to go to the toilets to do it. She seemed always to get caught but did not seem to care. She enjoyed the correction as much as she did the sex.
The other group used strapons on each other. Some invited 1st and 2nd year girls to join in. None of us could do much as we either had no balls or had been chemically castrated and most of the desire had been removed by the hormones. However, we did enjoy the excitement and the fun of our girly cums.
One of the great events each year was the completion of the year two surgery which was celebrated with a dance to which men were invited and the girls were allowed to explore their feelings about men, cocks and fucking.
Dr Karen, Mistress Matron and all the tutors attended the event and watched the proceedings in the dorm afterwards through the security cameras. The event was used to categorise the girls for the sets they would join in for year three.
All the girls from the first year also had to attend the dance and were assessed for their femininity and charm. An added assessment was made on how attractive they were to men and how much cosmetic work would be required to make them sufficiently attractive to graduate. If it was judged that the work required would be unproductive or the final result would not be good enough, the pupils were rusticated. In my year only 12 of the 15 made it to year two. Overall, it seemed to be a successful process because I could not see a 3rd year girl that I wouldn’t have said “Wow” about when I was a man.
So here I am at the start of year two. I have learnt about walking, talking and acting like a female. I have learned about clothes and makeup and jewellery. I read all the fashion magazines, girly novels, drink cocktails, smoke Virginia slims, menthol, expect the doors to be opened for me and to be admired by both men and women alike. I feel great and I love my new life and am hoping that Mistress Matron will allow me some time off to re-introduce myself to my Mother.
So this is my dilemma. I did the right thing in deciding to become a woman. I love it and cannot wait for my final surgery this year but I must decide which group I am going to fit into. If I choose the lesbian one, I have been told that I will not get a boob job as the women love the way they look now. They just love teenage breasts. If I want to be more attractive to men, then a boob job is essential and I have finally decided to go down that route. However, it is not my decision. When I signed my contract and joined the school, I signed away my life. I am now owned by the Lesbian board. I am their puppet. Any money I earn is theirs. What I do is theirs to decide. I could be rusticated, given away or sold to a man or a woman but I might just be kept as a group plaything. The uncertainty is terrible but all the outcomes will be heaven!
There is another story to write but that must wait until it happens to me. I have been accepted into year 2 of the school but the term has not yet started. I was allowed to meet my mother briefly but it had to be away from home. I had to tell her that it was the last time we would ever meet, which broke my heart. I decided to meet her in the wine bar in Bloomsbury in the hope that I might see Sonia. She was not there and no one seemed to have seen her. One person said that they thought she had contracted AIDS and was in hospital. I hope not, but she was certainly heading that way.
The year 3 girls that graduated were each given £5000 to spend on their trousseaus for their new lives. Only they were told what that life was going to be.
Mistress Matron announced that this year’s new intake would double in size. The Lesbian Coven had now grown and that they would be using their combined wealth to increase the size of the male stud so that they could increase the number of lesbians born by training them from birth.
The greatest problem had and would continue to be the selection of the right males to breed from. They needed to be handsome with Adonis like bodies yet be gentle and kind and loving. That seemed to equate with being a homosexual or bi-male to me.
My waist is now down to 24 inches but I love wearing a corset and would be lost without one. I feel as if I might break in two. My hips are round, my boobs are small but attractive and my face shape has softened. My hair has grown somewhat but not yet enough and the laser treatment has left my body soft to touch. I hate football and all sports but love to talk about clothes, romance and feelings. I walk, talk and behave like a girl so my life is happy and progressing to completion.
The End for Now
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