BE FOREWARNED. The following story contains sexually explicit material not suited for those who have not yet achieved the age of maturity. If you should fall into this category, do not read further. Consult the laws of your community to clarify if you are eligible to read adult sexual material. The theme is transsexual. If this type of reading matter offends you, read no further. Go do something else. Standard disclaimer applies. Any association with real people, places, events, or entities is purely coincidental.

   

A Fitting Sentence

by Virginia Kane

Copyright 2002. All rights reserved.

 

Chapter One.

 

The judge peered down from her bench at me ominously; utter disgust written on her face, as the jury foreman read the verdict: guilty as charged. The courtroom filled with belligerent family and friends of the sweet looking plaintiff first cheered, then fell silent to hear the judge pronounce sentence. The girl's irate father gave a detailed account of what happened. His testimony convicted me, even though he admitted my being alone with her in his daughter's bedroom was consensual.

It was to be my first date with a girl who accused me of forcing her into a sex act. Her dad had walked in on us, catching her on her knees in front of me. All I did was let her advance her attentions. We went up to her room to select music for a party we were to attend together. She was the one to initiate our intimacy.

Hell, she even asked me to take her to the party. She seemed more than eager to engage in heavy petting when we got up to her bedroom. However, at the trial, she pled that I forced myself on her and she feared I would hurt her if she didn't comply. That's a laugh. She removed her blouse and bra immediately after she closed her bedroom's door, begging me to kiss her perky, pointy breasts. She promised I wouldn't regret lavishing my kisses on her lovely nipples.

I'm no prude. She wasn't the first girl to act forward with me, either. After all, I'm a good-looking stud muffin. I never had any problems finding sexy girls that wanted to show me a good time. I tried to explain that in the courtroom, but it backfired on me. The judge and jury outwardly showed animosity toward my self-conceit.

Because I was unsuccessful at fully raping the girl, the judge said that she would be lenient. Hah! She sentenced me to one-to-five years in a state penitentiary.

After she rendered the sentence, I begged my attorney to plead with the judge, as I didn't have a prior record. How could she send me to jail for my first offense? He looked passive and told me that he tried his best to dissuade me from taking the stand. He claimed I helped the jury to convict me by attempting to transfer the responsibility for my crime to an innocent-looking young girl. All I accomplished was to make the jury resolute in assuring another Chauvinistic male learns his lesson the hard way how best to treat women. I didn't know what he meant by the comment. Nonetheless, I begged him to plead with the judge, so he did. She had the bailiff escort us into her private chambers along with the plaintiff's lawyer.

She then explained. The plaintiff's shrewd attorney obtained damaging testimony from other girls I had dated, to prove that I had taken advantage of them as well, to characterize me as a lecherous scoundrel. The judge then said she didn't wish to embarrass the families of the other girls by making a public exhibition of them in her courtroom. Thus, the plaintiff's attorney reluctantly agreed to not submit their sworn affidavits during the trial. Instead he shared the information that he obtained in the depositions with my attorney in advance of the trial for rebuttal.

My attorney interviewed the witnesses and swiftly ascertained interrogating these young girls in court would only further damage my defense. To my astonishment, the judge asserted that was why she was lenient. If all of the girls' testimony were presented in court, their irate families were likely to press additional charges and, at least, in two cases, for contributing to the delinquency of their minor daughters. If she did, she was sure I would surely get sentenced to at least twenty years.

Hell, that legal bloodhound searched out every girl I ever dated. With the criminal charges pending against me, he must have convinced them to add fuel to his fire, which they agreed to do just to get even with me for my dumping them. Damned, scorned women! Four girls claimed I took sexual liberties with them, two of them falsely. The judge chose to protect their reputations by not having their identities exposed in court. My lawyer did nothing to challenge their claims

My goose was cooked.

Chapter Two.

 

I arrived at a minimum-security prison two weeks later dreading my fate, vaguely aware what might happen to me while in jail. Until then, I had been in custody of the court, confined to a holding cell at the county jail, awaiting my incarceration. While at the county jail, the guards joked about my future sex life right to my face, telling me how hard-line convicts were sure to have a ball, once I was sent to a real prison. One of them even suggested I could "practice" on him, to prepare myself for the years of sexual servitude to hardened criminals that awaited me.

When he brought me dinner one night, he cupped his privates in one hand and took hold of my chin with the other. "In a few more weeks, you'll find out what life in prison is. The tough birds you'll meet in the state pen don't get to mess around with the morals of innocent girls like you did. You'll soon discover lips are lips to a criminal, once he's been deprived of women for a long time. You'll see. Better get used to the idea." I feared he was going to force me to fellate him on the spot, but he didn't. He stormed out of my solitary cell, calling me a "worthless scumbag".

I'm not very macho by nature. What could I do to prevent getting raped by some hardened con, driven mad with lust? From that moment on, I was in turmoil. I had heard rumors about jail life. Soon, I expected to be forced to confirm the extent of the truth behind them. I didn't know what to do. I was scared nearly senseless.

I wondered how prison officials could tolerate the inmates subjecting each other to deviant sexual demands. Soon after my arrival, I nervously asked the doctor examining me in the prison's clinic about it. He didn't respond, not initially, that is. He finished up the physical exam with a rectal probing, insisting he had to make sure I wasn't bringing any contraband into the prison, slyly mentioning how well I maintained my body. His comment seemed highly inappropriate, as he had his finger deep inside my butt, searching for a hidden stash of dope, I suppose. Then he started to move the finger around. He touched something that made me gasp out loud. I couldn't help but get excited. He smiled. I burned with intense shame.

"Did you like that?" He removed his finger. "You'll meet lots of new friends inside who will be grateful if you let them probe your butt. You're a good-looking dude. I'd hate to see harm come to you while you're in jail. Want some good advice?"

"About stopping an inmate from doing what you just did? I sure would."

"Don't make trouble by fighting off the inevitable. You're here for committing a sex-related crime. Even though this is a well-run institution, we understand that inmates are bound to get extremely randy being cooped up long without womanly companionship. This facility houses very few hardened criminals. Most inmates here are first offenders, just like you. Most committed crimes that didn't involve aggravated assault. That doesn't mean they aren't belligerent or don't get violent with fellow prisoners on occasion; it means they are less likely to seriously hurt anyone while trying to vent their pent-up passion through casual exploration.

You enjoyed letting a girl wash your frond. That's how you managed to land here. You like oral sex. You can appreciate that most men feel the same way. Inside a prison, life can be extremely boring. Men seek outlets for their deprived needs for satisfaction. Some men approach their fellow cellmates for some sexual favors, whether or not the person has any gay tendencies. They develop an interesting outlook toward such activities. They don't consider themselves gay, if they are the aggressor. Only an inmate that satisfies another's lust is considered queer.

In my opinion, you're too good-looking to not be approached by at least the most aggressive inmates here. If I were you, I wouldn't brag to anyone about why you were sent here, unless you wish to have men to approach you. Men in jail treat sex offenders pretty roughly. They resent that you abused what they can't have."

"Then the rumors I heard are true. I'm scared, doc. I'm not good at fighting. How can I keep from being sexually accosted without fighting? I'm not about to let a man force me into doing that for him! I'd sooner die than give head to a man!"

"Really? You didn't have a problem letting a girl fellate you, you know, like the one whose father caught you. How do you think the girl felt when she had your cock stuffed deep inside of her soft lips? Somewhat scared, afraid that you'd hurt her if she didn't do as you demanded, probably like the way you must feel about being forced into giving a man head." He was preparing a hypodermic needle.

"Too bad pharmaceutical companies don't make an effective vaccine to protect people from being forced into doing things that they fear they wouldn't be able to handle. However, this shot I'm about to give you will protect you from a host of other common maladies and will help to calm your nerves somewhat, as well. If nothing else, you'll be able to deal with being approached for casual sex without passing out from sheer fright. I guess the prison will teach you what it's like to be an object of sexual harassment. Girls all earn how to deal with it from little on."

"Yes, but women expect men to make sexual advances, sir. That's why they all dress to lure men into desiring them, appealing to a man's natural rutting urges. They encourage boyfriends by teasing, too. If they didn't, a lot of them would end up spinsters. I guess gay men encourage straight guys like that. I hope that you aren't insinuating that I would encourage guys to approach me. Are you, doctor?"

"What you choose to do for entertainment while you're here is entirely up to you. Most inmates will leave you alone if you prove that you aren't interested, but let me caution you. A few cons will be more aggressive. They may corner you and force you. Some will prefer your resisting. They enjoy sex far more if their prey is totally unwilling. After you resist some insistent man's sexual demands I'll treat your injuries and file a complete report about the incident that most likely won't result in any earthshaking changes to the penal system. Take my word for it. Sex between inmates is not entirely uncommon. I suggest you don't go around with a big chip on your shoulder for protection. You'll soon invite a confrontation."

"Won't the guards protect me? Isn't that their jobs?"

"Oh, sure. The guards maintain order and they protect prisoners from harming each other. However, do you think they'll have much sympathy for a convicted sex offender? Think again. Some guards have daughters of their own, you know.

They'll refer you to the prison's psychologist to convince you that you invited the other inmate to approach you for sexual gratification, if you file a complaint. The guy that beats you up might get sent away to a different prison afterwards, if you can prove that you didn't entice him, but the rest of the population will tag you as a wimp for letting him beat you into submission, anyway. Afterwards, you'll soon get invitations from other inmates. The threat of a few months added to inmates' lengthy sentences isn't going to deter them from seeking you out, once you've been labeled as a "queen". You may even encourage advances from them, after months of practicing celibacy. How can you be sure you won't enjoy it?"

"No way! What would stop them? I sure don't want to be victimized in that way."

The doctor's confidence that I'd get attacked was making me feel ill, and I was beginning to shake and perspire profusely. "Could I please have a drink of water? It seems hot in here, suddenly. I even feel a bit dizzy." He helped me to sit down.

He gave me a paper cup of cool water as he continued. "You're free, white, and twenty-one. You tell me what you think you should do. Some inmates don't mind becoming an object of another man's affection after months of deprivation. Prison life isn't supposed to be entirely pleasant. The primary aim is to deprive convicted criminals of the privileges we enjoy in an open society and often take for granted. Having sex is one of the most common privileges that men enjoy on the outside, if gone about it in the proper manner. You chose to ignore the governing rules of society and got caught abusing your privileges.

The desire to engage in sexual contact within another person inside of a prison becomes heightened considerably once a guy learns that he's not going to get any sex at all for a long, long time from women. Think about that. Your options will be severely limited. Your reluctance to be approached will eventually wane. You'll soon be dreaming about girls you dated and flapping your carrot in your bunk late at night, like all the rest. With only the other men to communicate with, you'll likely to become more tolerant toward being involved with another man.

Some tough guy will warn others to steer clear of you. That will be the first sign that you are being sought out. Men that may seem to have been friendly to you will suddenly remain aloof. Your aggressor will set you up to be alone with him somewhere, in your own room, most likely, when you least expect it. Before you'll be able to defend yourself, he'll proposition you. He'll either convince you that cooperation is wiser than the pain and anguish he could inflict, or he may simply take pleasure in forcing you into submitting. You'll probably get initiated soon enough. I'd prepare myself for such an attack, if I were you. If you'd rather not get hurt, you'll have to convince your attacker to be nice to you."

"That's incredible! How am I supposed to convince a lunatic to be nice?"

"Lunatic? Just prepare yourself. Otherwise, your first experience could be very traumatic, one that you'll regret it for the rest of your life. Fighting or begging to be left alone won't keep you from being violated. You could easily get all your teeth knocked out if you resist too much, or worse yet, your attacker could be so randy he'll split your bottom wide open, so it needs to be stitched back up to work properly. I'd rather not have to repair the resulting damage afterwards. Trust me. There are many other ways that I prefer to apply my surgical talents."

"It sounds like you're trying to convince me that I'm bound to get beaten into becoming someone's sex slave, regardless if I resist or not."

"Not necessarily. Some inmates are very nice to their lovers. After all, their lovers provide them with a pleasant outlet for repressed needs. Some men can become very protective, if they find their bunkmate is a satisfactory surrogate.

On the other hand, other men lend out their "queens" to the other inmates. Being in control over a sexual 'wife' keeps aggressive men from constantly getting into other trouble. No one objects. Some 'wives' even get off by being sought after.

Both kinds of inmates benefit from relationships involving sex. Tougher inmates like the sense of power over the fate of another person the relationships provide. The meek, accommodating person benefits by being protected by a forceful man from being beaten up by others at every turn. The worst thing that can happen to a con is to become a "bottom" that doesn't have a "top" around to protect him."

"I'm in for it. I won't kid myself about my poor ability to defend myself. I'm going to be in deep trouble. I'll eventually get slaughtered fighting for my dignity with every guy here. As I see it, I'm bound to become someone's sex toy eventually. Would it be possible to hire someone to protect me from being approached by the rest of the prisoners somehow, doc?"

"That's not necessary. Someone will seek you out and suggest that he'll protect you from the other men, soon enough. This institution imposes minimal restraints on the mobility of inmates, if they abide by the strict rules regarding conduct. The present rehabilitation philosophy stresses inmate cooperation and camaraderie.

Your fellow inmates learn that violating the standing rules can result in their being transferred to a stricter facility with cold, concrete jail cells with bars for walls and very uncomfortable cots instead of semi-private rooms we provide to the inmates here, so a man who doesn't presently have someone willing to offer him sexual gratification will approach you and try to convince you to accept the comfort of his protection. Whether you will or not will be entirely up to you."

"Private rooms? How do I earn one? I'm assigned to a dormitory. Maybe if I had a room all to myself, fewer men could get at me. That way, I wouldn't offer many of them fodder for their rampant imaginations, too."

"It's possible. All you have to do is meet the qualifications."

Can you tell me how I can qualify to get a private room of my own? Please, doc. That may be the best solution for me. I don't want to start out with getting a bad reputation for fighting, and I sure don't want to become a guy's outlet for deviant sex. The way I see it, a private cell could keep me out of trouble."

"Well, you can't get assigned to a private room until after the first six months of your term. New inmates are all assigned to small dorms until they have been evaluated to determine cooperativeness and how to best utilize their work skills. You seem to be a bright, clean-cut lad. Tell the vocational analyst who interviews you that I suggested you apply for an office job. Some job assignments don't require hard, manual labor people associate with being in a prison. You seem to be better suited for office work with your apparent lack of brute musculature.

Running a state penal institution requires reams of paperwork. The main office uses inmates with office skills for mundane paper shuffling. Besides, the clerical cadre isn't as tough on inmates as the guards are. Give it a shot. With any luck, you'll be learning something useful during your stay here."

"Thanks, doc. I'd like to. I'll apply for that office work. I appreciate your advice."

"Don't mention it. As long as you're at it, you might want to improve how you will look to the people that will determine your work assignment. If you want to fit into an office well, consider losing that grubby mustache of yours."

"What about my ponytail? I expected to get my shorn, like the others who arrived with me. Instead, a guard pulled me out of line to come here for this physical. I'm going to miss my long hair. It took me over two years to grow it long enough to wear in a ponytail."

"Oh, I can arrange for you to preserve your hair temporarily if you'd like. I don't like seeing the inmates that are assigned to work in the clinic wearing their hair short. I think it's dehumanizing. I'm sure other department heads feel the same way I. I see no reason to deprive a grown man of his grooming preferences as well as his freedom to choose how best to maintain his appearance."

"Is there anything else that you think I should concentrate on?"

"Be polite to all the guards. Most prisoners resent their presence, so most guards respond to kindness better than you can imagine. Be careful though. Don't try to get too friendly. If the other prisoners see that, they may interpret your politeness as a sign of weakness.

They'll take it out on you if they think you are using a charming manner to gain favors from the guards. They'll think you're willing to be sexually permissive with the guards, rather than with one of them. That's a very risky thing to do. Guards are free to have normal relationships with women on the outside. The inmates aren't. So, the inmates don't appreciate guards poaching on their turf."

"There must be a better way. Doctor, I have an extremely low tolerance for pain. Unless I can quickly gain about fifty pounds of brute strength I'm in for a rough time. I wish there was an alternative to fighting at every turn. To me, fighting for one's life seems surreal in a civilized world."

"There is a way that seems fairly effective. After months of trying to resist in vain, some men accept being subservient to others, after being forced to submit. Then, they ask me for help to become more adept at accepting their fate, once they find out it's not within their nature to resist. They prefer to become desirable enough to one dominant man so he is less apt to share his "woman" with others. If you think that this may eventually happen to you, once a particular man singles you out for himself, it might be wise to adjust your mental attitude toward appearing more attractive from the very outset. It might serve you well to prepare."

"Adjust my attitude?"

"Sure. According to the testimony that you gave in court under oath, you insisted repeatedly you were totally innocent and you didn't force yourself on those girls. If you're not aggressive by nature, then what are you? The judge and jury didn't believe your proclaimed innocence for a moment. What will you offer to a parole board to convince them you were misjudged? The jury seemed positive you're the kind of aggressive man that you fear encountering the most."

"I don't know what you're implying, sir. I didn't force that girl. Please believe me!"

"Okay. Suppose I believe you. Would you be interested in taking a short oral quiz to substantiate the nature of your character? If you are what you claim to be, that is: innocent and non-aggressive, then you might qualify for an early release from prison for good behavior after serving only a portion of your five-year sentence.

Your answers will be transcribed and the results recorded in your files for future reference when you become eligible for a parole. How you interact with others in the meantime will serve to corroborate your claims of innocence.

"Boy, I sure would! You'll see. I'll be the most cooperative person you ever met, if it means I'll get out of jail sooner. Facing five years of fighting off the threats you described would prompt me to do whatever is necessary. Can you give me the character quiz right away?"

"I'm glad that you asked. I don't normally, unless an inmate requests one. You seem sincere, so I can give you the quiz right now, if you'd like."

I nodded in agreement and he told me that he'd be right back with the quiz and a video tape recorder. He wasn't gone for more than a few minutes.

"Now. I'm going to ask you a series of questions. I'd like you to think hard before answering them. Keep in mind that I'll be recording my observations, as well. I'll make notes of everything that you tell me and critique your inflections. I'll keep how you respond confidential, except for my staff for now, until you've read over the text and endorse the transcript as having been given of your own free will.

If your answers prompt me to make favorable recommendations that can have a direct bearing before the parole board hearing, your sentence will be commuted, and you'll regain your freedom soon afterwards. You see; should I recommend a parole for you at that time, you could be released after serving as little as only one year instead of five. Of course, I have to be sure that you will deserve an early parole. Does the prospect of an early dismissal sound inviting? "

"Absolutely! Tell me. What must I do? I'd be willing to do most anything legal."

"First of all, you'll want to convince everyone in authority here that may testify on your behalf before the parole board that you won't pose a threat to every pretty girl you'll encounter after being released. That would be your primary goal. Then, demonstrating you aren't likely to be a troublemaker during confinement will offer more proof that you won't return to prison again in the future."

"I'll do anything to keep my nose clean and not ever return. Believe me. I'll never threaten a girl in any way. I mean, I really like girls and I'll want to date them, but I won't ever be a threat to one. Girls seem to like me and they want to do things for me so I will like them in return. I'll always be very respectful and honorable. I'll never force myself on anyone. I didn't really, ever. It was that lawyer. He got the girls to give damaging accounts of our dates that made me look bad to the jury."

"Wait for the questions before you say anything further. First question: You seem to work hard at grooming, looking nice. Do you do it so you'll be attractive to girls, or is it because of your own personal vanity? Think the question over carefully and try to be as truthful as you can when you answer."

"Well, I always keep my hair and mustache neatly trimmed. I'm meticulous about my fingernails. I bathe at least daily and always use a deodorant. I take good care of my clothes, so they'll always look good, although this prison garb, well, I hate it, since I can't maintain it myself and it's so drab. Is that being too vain?"

"Second question: Is your attention to detail about your appearance due to how you feel personally, or how you want others to feel about you? Pick one, only."

"I'd have to say it's more because of how others feel about me."

"Third question: Would you consider changing how you dress, your hair style and how you comport yourself if you could impress others properly by doing so?"

"Yes, I certainly would. I do the best I can, now. I don't see how I can do better in here. The options are so limited. I'd do better with toiletries and nicer uniforms. "

"If an office job was at stake, would you voluntarily modify the way you dress to encourage others to respond nicer toward you? After all, you want to get along."

"Yes, without question. Yes, I certainly would!"

"Even if I suggest you wear starched white uniforms, shirts and slacks like nurses often wear to work? You'll blend in with others on my staff better, if you do."

"Ha, ha, ha!" Wear a nurse's uniform? Now, that's different. For what purpose?"

"It's very simple, young man. You were convicted of a crime against womanhood. To truly understand the nature of your errant past behavior, you should face how it feels to be treated as a sex object, and about the vulnerability that women feel. With a better understanding of their point of view, you'll become less likely to act aggressively toward women. You'll appear to be more contrite if the parole board perceives you as someone docile, even reformed. Both men and women nurses wear the same outfits. If you're reluctant to consider the concept---,"

"Me? Be afraid of wearing dandy white clothes to an office? Why should I be?"

"It requires more than wearing special uniforms. You'll be expected to behave in a polite manner. Next question. Would you be adverse to taking medications that might significantly alter your impression of aggressive male behavior? The meds wouldn't be dangerous to your health nor habit forming. You might even accept a new dress code with relative ease, and feel calm about dressing differently than other inmates you will encounter. You wouldn't have to be overly concerned with being severely injured from getting a beating by other men, too. The medications I'm referring to would—protect you from being assaulted—to a great degree."

"I guess. I don't believe there's anything wrong with how I view life in general, but if taking some meds and changing how I dress will help me gain an early release, sure, especially if they'd keep me from being beaten up by another inmate. I'd be glad to wear whatever you deem to be appropriate."

The doctor's manner seemed to change. He suddenly became very cordial. He acted as if he was sincerely interested in personally seeing to my welfare during my term in prison, and I was eager to accept his help. He asked me several more questions. I can't remember them all. I answered each one all as honestly and as completely I could under the circumstances.

He said I could start work as a clerk assigned to his clinic right away, if I agreed to wear the required white uniforms. Knowing I'd get caught if I lied and then not get the soft office job assignment, I repeatedly assured him, for the record, that I was willing to do the things he suggested to prove that I was entirely sympathetic toward learning to perceive a woman's point of view about commonplace things.

That seemed to satisfy him. If all it would take is for me to become more sensitive to how women felt, I was all for the idea. Then, he administered the injection of a drug he assured me would placate what he called my acute nervousness. I didn't notice anything unusual afterwards, except that he was speaking in a softer tone of voice to me. He continued to question me, but, for the life of me, I can't recall any of the questions, nor how I responded. Suddenly, his tone of voice changed.

"Good, good. Congratulations. I'm recommending you for a job in the clinic. You won't need to consult with a vocational analyst, after all. Now, for the record, I'm going to have my steno-typist transcribe the questions I asked and the answers you gave. I want you to read them over carefully and then return the transcript to her after you sign it. I'll discuss the next step with you, tomorrow. Okay? You'll be assigned to reside in a clinic dorm. A nurse will take you there, directly."

 

 

Chapter Three.

 

What luck! As soon as the doctor heard me tell him I accepted his dress-code idea, he perked up and asked how I'd like a congenial environment, with others who felt the same way I did. If so, I'd be assigned to a dorm adjacent to the clinic instead of in the general population area near those drooling, lecherous savages.

I'd have said anything to get out of being thrown in with a bunch of randy inmates that didn't have any sex for who knows how long and wanted me to play house with them. This way, I could serve my time without a bunch of horny guys leering at me, wondering how they can corner me for some deviant sex. It wasn't going to be a private room, but the doctor advised me that my new roommates followed the same dress-code program. Since I wasn't going to be the only one wearing the starchy white uniforms, I wouldn't stand out like a sore thumb.

I heard about men who worked exclusively with women and grew to appreciate a lot of their womanly traits. Supposedly, most guys that dress exclusive in hospital whites for work stay basically straight, and just prefer to wear the required unisex clothing. Maybe I'd grow to like it, too. The doctor then suggested I soon wouldn't mind wearing other clothes that men never wore. For some reason, the idea was appealing. Go along to get along, was what I was thinking about.

The sexy nurse that responded to the doctor's page was a real curvy dish. She escorted me to the dorm room and told me my two new roommates would stop by to tell me which bunk was going to be mine. I had been sick with worry over getting butt-fucked by some horny goon, and now a super good-looking nurse was doing her level best to turn me on, by walking ahead of me with her tush on display. I decided that my prison life wasn't going to be too hard to take after all, thanks to my fortunate interview with the clinic's doctor.

Within the next hour, a young, good-looking miss dropped off the transcript of my interview and told me she'd return pick it up later, after I signed it. She also told me that she would unlock the television set once I finished reviewing the entire transcript, so I should attend to it right away. I thanked her, as I hadn't seen any TV since I was confined in the county jail awaiting my trial.

It was kind of difficult for me to decipher the transcript, because the questions weren't worded exactly as I had heard the doctor ask them. Instead, the wording used in the transcript seemed like a lot of medical jargon. Each answer I gave the doctor was word for word, so the difference couldn't matter much as far as I was concerned. The last paragraph said that I was attesting only to the answers I had given. That was good enough for me. After all, that's what counts.

True to her word, the girl came by to pick up the transcript. She unlocked the set and turned it on for me. Unfortunately, all that was on at the time was prime-time sit-coms. I tried every station. The reception was pretty lousy too, with loud static in the background. After she left, I dozed off in the easy chair watching the tube. When I woke up again, two lovely looking gals were there to greet me. They were both dressed in white slacks and lab coats over tunics, which I assumed was the uniform the doctor that told me about.

"Hi. I'm Trudy." Said one.

"I'm Clary." Said the other one.

"Hi. I'm Andy. Did the doctor send you?"

"Ew! That rhymes with Candy" They bubbled in unison. "We're going to help you get dressed to see the doctor, after we remove your mustache."

"No need. I can shave it off, by myself."

"We're not going to shave it off. We're going to remove it. You agreed to it, didn't you? It says so right here in the note that the doctor gave us."

"The doctor said he wanted me to get rid of it. He didn't say how. I'd rather do it myself, if you don't mind. I'm not supposed to see him again until tomorrow."

"But we do mind. You'll get us into trouble. You're scheduled to see him this afternoon, not tomorrow. You'd better not be late for your appointment with him."

"Appointment? This afternoon? What time is it? I thought it was evening."

Clary answered. "You slept in the chair all night, watching television. It's morning. Now, you had better not try to give us a hard time." She chuckled, and I got the double meaning of her words. "We have a lot to do to make you presentable."

For some reason, I didn't feel like resisting. "Fine with me." I had looked into the bathroom earlier and didn't see any shaving gear. "I'll need a pair of scissors and a razor. I couldn't find either one in there." I pointed to the bathroom.

"Are you serious? New inmates aren't allowed to have sharp implements that can be used as a weapon. We'll use a faster, and better way. First we'll let you get rid of all the hair on your body with this depilatory cream we brought along for you."

Trudy tossed the bottle over to me. I had to react quickly or the bottle would have hit me right in the face. Her relaxed manner caught me off guard. Both of them were good-looking women that I would like to get to know better, if I could. I could tell they both were aware of my appraising their looks from the way they reacted.

"Go take a hot shower. Leave the water running and follow the directions on the label. After using the cream, wait for the prescribed time to pass then rinse it off. All your body hair will rinse away along with the cream. Use a terry washcloth on troublesome areas. Don't use the cream on your head, eyebrows, face or groin. It will sting and leave a rash if you do! We'll be in here waiting for you."

I did as I was told. For some reason, I didn't want to disobey them. When I was finished, I had to look into the mirror. I felt more naked than ever. My skin never felt so soft to me before, either. I had to admit something to myself. I liked having no hair on my body. I was eager to get rid of my mustache, too. I put on the plush robe I found hanging in the bathroom instead of the orange drill outfit I had worn the day before. The soft terrycloth felt warm against my naked body. I shouted through the closed door. "Is it alright to wear the robe that's hanging in here?"

I heard a muffled response. "Sure. It's yours. That's why it's there. Put it on and come out. Put on the slippers that you'll find in there, too."

I spotted the slippers on the floor. They were plain, but they had low lifts. With the slippers on, I could feel a bit of pressure on my calves. Felt nice. Made me stand taller. Without any hair covering them, my legs looked slimmer. I liked that, too. I supposed the doctor wanted me to look gentler, to get along with the nurses and the aides that worked for him. That's what I thought Trudy and Clary were.

"Come out already! We haven't got all day!"

I checked my hair and combed it quickly, wishing it were longer for some reason. With two gorgeous girls waiting, I didn't dare waste any more time. I opened the door to find them pacing the floor. "I'm ready. Where are my clothes?"

"We'll get you fitted for them, soon enough. We'll be late for your session with the cosmetologist if we don't get a move on. She'll remove the mustache. Take short steps in those slippers, so you don't twist an ankle along the way."

"Yes, ma'am." The two women whisked me out the door of the dorm room before I could ask them how far we had to go with me in only a terrycloth robe. I needn't have worried. The cosmetologist was located right down the hall in a room similar to my dorm room. My new co-workers told me to sit in a barber's chair. The room was set up like a regular barbershop, except that it was graced with many photos of luscious looking women wearing elaborate hairstyles.

Before I could ask what was in store, I was wrapped in a barber's apron and the chair was lowered back so my head was nearly at a level with the magnificent mammaries of all three women. The cosmetologist didn't speak, and went right to work on me. I heard sizzling and felt itching sensations under my nose. She was singeing off my mustache! I panicked!

"Ow! That hurts! You're burning me!"

"No, I'm not. We're simply removing your mustache with a laser. We'll remove all of your facial hair with it, too. Close your eyes and think about never having to bother with shaving your beard anymore. What a nuisance. Wouldn't you agree?"

I didn't, but didn't want to argue with them either, so I just nodded. "Sure. Never enjoyed it much, anyway. Say! How long does this method of hair removal last?"

The cosmetologist replied. "Oh, about sixty years, or so, I'd guess; unless your heritage suggests a longer lifespan. You'll never need to shave again, for as long as you live, except under your arms." The three of them tittered at that comment.

"Now lie back and relax, sweetie. This will take me some time. After I finish your face, I'll give your Willie the same treatment. You might as well get it all done and over with at the same time. The sooner, the better."

"What? Why remove the hair from my groin? Nobody ever sees it."

"Personal hygiene. The less body hair you have, the less chance you'll have of catching cooties. We don't want you to be scratching down there while you're at work. Do we? Think of how that would look. It wouldn't speak well of you to go around with your hands busily scratching your groin area all day. Would it?"

"Of course not. It's considerate of you to resolve the problem. Must be difficult to control common parasites inside of a crowded institution."

"Oh, I would certainly say so. There are scads of different kinds of parasites we have to deal with, so we eliminate the most common ones, right away." Again, I caught the double entendre of her words and chuckled along with her. When she finished, she put a soothing ointment on my face, and then injected my upper lip with something several times that she said would control the swelling and ease pain. By that time, my entire upper lip area hurt and was numb from her removing my mustache. Funny, it felt as though I still had the damned thing, even though touching my swollen upper lip confirmed prime macho expression was long gone.

She massaged the ointment on my face into the skin, which felt great. The sting from the laser wasn't as irritating afterwards. I closed my eyes and let her do her thing, and thought about my being released from prison early by doing everything I was told to do, even if I didn't understand why I had to do some of it.

I don't recall much more, because fumes from the ointment she rubbed into my skin made me feel very tired. I only remember her shaking me to wake me up. As I tried to get up out of the barber chair, I could feel the same heat emanating from my groin area to indicate that she already did what she said she would. I blushed a deep red. The woman had seen my "Willie" and stripped away the wild tuft of coarse pubic hair that kept it warm in the wintertime.

"It itches."

"Keep your hands off. The itching will fade. If you leave it alone, by the end of the day, it will feel natural not to have any hair around your groin any more."

"It felt natural enough to me to have hair down there as it was."

"Let's see what we can do with all the hair you have left and stop worrying about what you don't have anymore, shall we?"

I nodded in agreement. She cut the rubber band on my ponytail off with a pair of scissors she kept in her inner jacket pocket attached to a cord that went around her neck. She smiled when she saw me looking at the scissors. "Don't get funny ideas. Certain tools are considered dangerous and aren't allowed without special permission. You wouldn't want to get caught infracting the rules, would you?""

"Me? Don't give it a thought. What good would it do me?"

"That's the spirit. Do as you're told, and you'll do fine." She handed me a mirror.

She made my hair look much fuller. I liked it. Nothing much different than how I normally wore it, only fuller. Then she pulled it forward to frame my face. I saw the change in my appearance instantly. "My upper lip swelled up. I look funny."

"Nah. Maybe, a little bit. It's a common reaction to laser depilation. The tender skin under your nose and on your neck is the most sensitive skin you have, next to the head of your penis. We all get a rash from the laser, but it fades away in a few days. If it gets real red, it's normal. If it throbs, I'll apply more ointment to your face when I drop by to see how you're coming along. Try to not let it bother you."

We left the cosmetologist's shop. I asked my two new acquaintances where we were headed next, still undecided about finding out that I'd never have to shave again. Something in the back of my mind kept telling me not to worry about it.

"We'll stop in at the clinic's commissary to get you measured for your new outfits next. It's just around the corner. Then we'll go back to your dorm room together to help you get dressed for your appointment to see the doctor this afternoon. We should have time to make some nice selections if we don't dilly-dally too much. Loosen up. It'll be fun to explore a bit into the kind of attire you'll be able to wear in your new job. You want to fit right in. Don't you?" She was right. I was still leery about wearing the white clothes all the time, but decided that I'd be able to blend in with the others better if I didn't stand out too much.

My escorts were wearing white pantsuits with lab coats that are commonly worn in hospitals by attending staff. I supposed I'd be wearing similar clothes, except with pants that had a zippered fly in front instead of in back.

"Does every new inmate assigned to the doctor's staff get the royal treatment by his nurses' aides? This job assignment is bound to be interesting. I didn't even know the prison clinic had women nurses or nurses' aides. I naturally assumed the staff was comprised entirely of male personnel. I'm going to enjoy working in the clinic's office if you two will be there. It will be better than fending off men. "

They laughed hard at hearing my comment. Was I dense!

"We're not real women, silly. We're your mentors. You and another new inmate will take our places working in the clinic after we get paroled. There's a logical explanation for the way we dress. Men are usually miserable when they're sick. They seldom give us as hard a time while we attend to them, because of what they see. Even a guy gets treated courteously when wearing a nurse's outfit. It's natural for men to treat us nicer. We're here to teach you how to do it properly."

I stopped dead in my tracks. "Uh, oh. Boy, am I stupid. I assumed that I'd have to wear pristine-looking white men's clothes instead of the drab prison garb to get along better with the people in the clinic's office, not wear nurse's clothes to tend to sick inmates. I don't know it I'll fit in. I never wore any women's things before."

No wonder the cosmetologist used a laser to remove my mustache! How did I let the doctor talk me into this? It finally all dawned on me. I was to impersonate a woman in this job, not just wear a white uniform with pants.

"Oh, you won't mind being candy-striper much, once you get used to it. You may feel a bit uncomfortable wearing frilly underwear for a few days, but that passes quickly. Besides, you won't be exposed to the lechers in the prison. Some people within prison can be nasty. You expressed a desire to not become a target to their kind. Didn't you? This is the safest way to avoid uninvited confrontations."

"Yeah, but I didn't know I'd have to have my beard removed or wear makeup, like you two have on. Next thing you'll tell me is that I have to become a transvestite. Will I have to wear women's underwear, too? Is it too late to change my mind?"

"No, but if you do, you have to follow the rules for how clinic personnel dress until you get reassigned to a different job, so let's keep going or you'll be late for your appointment with the doctor later. Take it up with him if you want a transfer."

I let them lead me to a storeroom filled with rows of women's clothing. The clerk there left us to wander around the commissary checking out what was available.

"I'll say one thing. You two guys sure handle looking female terrifically. You had me fooled. I would have never guessed you're males. I imagine that most guys still think twice before trying anything funny at the clinic. Maybe I should put aside my silly pride for the time being until I see how things works out." I had to admit I was actually becoming curious to find out how I'd look in "girlie" things.

"Smart thinking, Andy. I think that you'll have all sorts of fun learning how to deal with wearing women's clothes all the time. We do. It's exciting and rewarding."

They measured me every way from Sunday, took notes and started to gather an assortment of apparel for me. Knowing they were really guys under the uniforms made standing nearly naked in front of them for the measurements seem less of an indignity, even though they both looked and behaved like air-headed women when holding an assortment of different outfits against me to check what colors complimented my complexion. I was glad I didn't have to pick anything out all by myself. I wouldn't know how or where to begin.

With a cart loaded down with selections, we went back to my new room so they could show me how natural women went about getting dressed to face the world. Just as could be expected, they showed me the proper way to don a padded bra. I always wondered how wearing a bra would feel. Now, I knew. "Why do most brassieres fasten in back? Seems illogical. If they all fastened in front, a woman's life would be much so much simpler." They both laughed along at my comment.

The padded bra felt cool against my chest at first, but it gradually warmed to my body temperature and the clothes they selected were bound to fit me better with certain new bulges showing in the right places. Another thing, I was discovering what they said earlier about wearing women's underthings being exciting was not untrue. The weight of the padded bra made me more conscious of the role that was to be required of me. Tending to sick inmates would be easier, if I looked like a hired female nurse's aide rather than another male inmate.

My mentors let me put the white nylon hose, garter and panties on all by myself. Putting the nylons on my hairless legs gave me Goosebumps. Guys don't know. Nylons hug the legs much nicer than socks do. Walking around in them made a hissing sound that made my Willie tingle with excitement. Putting panties on gave me a serious erection until my mentors made fun of my protruding basket. Their peals of laughter and their pointing made my cock shrink right back down again. They told me that they would show me a better way to make sure I didn't get a hard-on at the wrong time—later on.

Looking into the full-length mirror in the corner of the room, I shook my head, as I looked ridiculously ugly, not in the least bit authentic, like they did. My jaw was as red as a beet from the laser and my upper lip was so swollen that I looked like a circus clown. Wearing a bra, panty and nylons wouldn't deceive anyone. My thin legs were so skinny, my knees looked knobby. I decided that the doctor misled me. I wasn't going to be successful in blending in with the rest of the clinic's staff. My feeble masquerade was going to be a farce. My manhood was too obvious.

"I don't want to let anyone else see me, not like this, especially the doctor. Are you sure he wanted the cosmetologist to remove my mustache by using a laser? I'd rather postpone my appointment with him until after this swelling goes away. This dressing up in a disguise idea was a horrible mistake. I really don't know what possessed me to agree to do it. I look like a circus freak. "

"Nonsense. We know exactly how you feel right now." Said Clary, hugging me.

Trudy chimed in, too. "That's why we're here. We're assigned to help you to get used to looking demure to discourage men from assaulting you. We felt the very same way you now feel when we put on our first sets of sexy underwear."

Clary echoed her. "Everyone in your position feels grossly inadequate at first, exactly as you feel. Even real girls do when they realize that they're expected to conform to the way of life expected of them. They feel just as inadequate as you."

"They do? Yes, I suppose they do. But it must be wrong for guys to feel this way. I'd like to fit in with what will be expected of me, but I don't think I really can. "

"Certainly you can. When a young girl realizes she's growing up and is standing on the threshold of the marvelous journey into womanhood, she experiences the same exact misgivings and self-doubt. We're not much different from them.

Think of Clary and I as older sisters that are going to help you learn how to deal with your emerging emotions. Try to not worry too much about the way you look for the time being. We'll guide your every step along the way, so that you catch on quickly. As long as we're on hand, the men won't get a chance to attack you. That's the whole idea behind your dressing up this way."

"Misgivings? Like how I can possibly look as good as you two? You two must have had great teachers, or were blessed with better bodies than mine. Your waistlines look miniscule compared to mine, and your curvy hips remind me of professional dancers or movie stars. You're so graceful looking when you walk."

Clary responded. "Keep it up! I love getting compliments. "We'll teach you how to look the part and how to walk just like we do. All it takes is practice. As for our waistlines and hips, a sturdy foundation will correct your figure in no time. If not for your lithe figure, the doctor wouldn't have chosen you for the job. Think about that, instead of worrying about how you'll manage. You'll do fine. You expect far too much, too soon. Give it time. Now, let's see how you look in a pinafore."

A plain white nurse's dress that buttoned up the front came first. It didn't look very flattering, but at least I wasn't as exposed as I was in the underwear. The pinafore covered much of the front of the dress, and it tied into a big bow in back. It was white cotton with thin vertical pink stripes and had a square bib in front that extended from two matching wide ribbons of lace trimmed strips that buttoned together behind the neck under the wide collar of the dress. The fake bulges out in front caused by my padded bra and the tight cinch around my waist made my profile look more convincing. Still, I looked a lot like a clown from the neck up.

They directed me to sit down on a small stool facing the mirror by the cute table with a fringe around it and performed what I could only describe as magic. Within minutes they had my face powdered and painted it to hide the ugly red blotches.

They used mascara and eyeliner to enhance my eyes to look more like a girl's. Finally, they used subtle powder of a darker shade to highlight my cheeks. With my upper lip still swollen, I looked like I was pouting, and cutely. All trace of my male features vanished. Even the little cleft in my chin disappeared.

"Now what do you think?"

"Oh, my. Can that really be me? It's too hard to believe! I look almost --- pretty!"

"Oh, it's still you, alright." Trudy's reflection smiled at me. "You'll be doing your own makeup before long. That pinafore gives you an innocent childlike look."

Clary added: "No man is going to try to compromise your virtue, unless you invite his attentions. I'll bet you give the doctor a "woodie" when he first sees you."

"Oh, my!" I imagined for a moment that I was Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz. What they did to my face was remarkable, but I couldn't deny what I was seeing. I was so nice to look at; my pecker was beginning to rise in spite of my knowing my two mentors would chide me for it, if they noticed. Discovering the vision of loveliness I saw could evoke such a reaction in me was quite alarming too, but I was unable to stop from gawking at my feminine reflection in the mirror.

"You look good enough to eat, my dear Goldilocks." Clary and Trudy might have been making fun of my apparent shock at seeing myself anew, but I didn't get a chance to respond to Clary's quip. She took my chin into her hand and kissed me right on my swollen lips. Then, Trudy did the same.

"Welcome to Worth Prison's special rehabilitation program. We'd better find out if the doctor is ready to see you now. We dasn't keep him waiting. "

"Do you think he'll approve of how I look? Oh, I hope so!"

"Most certainly. I think he'll be quite impressed." Trudy pulled a cell phone out of her pocket and spoke into it. "We're ready to see Doctor Picket if he is available. Our novice is totally cooperative at present, and prepared to proceed. She seems enthralled with her new appearance. I suggest affirmation therapy to continue as soon as possible.—Yes.—We'll bring her along directly."

Trudy turned her attention to me. "Time to go. The doctor can see you now. Do you still have second thoughts about being able to fit in?"

"No, but I have you two to thank for that. Will you both promise to teach me how to use makeup by myself, so I can look this pretty whenever I want to?"

"Only if you promise to do exactly as we say. The sooner you will be comfortable in your new job placement, the sooner we'll qualify for our paroles."

The doctor was with a patient when we arrived at the clinic, so I had to wait for him in an examination room. A nurse came in to administer an injection. I tried to tell her I had my vaccinations the day before, but she told me that the medicine that the doctor had given me the day before was meant to help me cope with the stresses involved with the dramatic changes in how I was to dress for work from now on. The shot he gave me the day before must have been effective, because I didn't feel I was under any unusual stress, just jovial and pleasant as I could be, like I was playing a party trick on someone. I suppose I was, but I was playing a trick on myself, not someone else.

She said the shot that she administered this time would enable me to appreciate my good fortune of being chosen for working in the clinic. Right after she injected me with the shot, I got tired, almost sleepy. She suggested I lay down while she put on some soft, background music to help me rest. As I was closing my eyes, she mentioned that the doctor was unavoidably detained, and might not be able to see me for some time. I could take a nap if I wanted. I asked about Trudy and Clary, but she said they both left to attend to their other duties. They asked her to let me know that they would catch up with me later on in the dorm, after my visit with the doctor. I must have fallen asleep right after that.

Chapter Four.

 

Wow, did I feel chipper after my nap! The nurse woke me, saying the doctor was on his way. I got up to check out my appearance. I wanted to look perfect for him. Except for a few stray hairs here and there, I looked fine. I was standing over the small washbasin, gazing into a mirror in the corner of the room when the doctor came in. He looked taller than on the day before, and so suave, I was smitten.

"Good afternoon. I see that your mentors found some things appropriate at the commissary in your size. I'm very pleased. That outfit looks very flattering."

I blushed at his compliment. "Good afternoon, doctor. Thank you. I met the two mentors you sent to help me this morning. They were so nice. They picked this outfit out and helped me to get dressed. They assured me that you expected me to wear something like it right away. Do I meet with your expectations?" I twirled around so he could take a better look at me. "I sure hope so. I want that job you described. I'm determined to qualify for an early parole as best I can."

"You look fine, quite befitting the job I have in mind." I beamed in sheer delight. He examined my face thoroughly, peering into my eyes, ears, nostrils and throat using a handheld gadget fitted with a light. "I know you admire that lovely dress, but you'll have to remove temporarily it so I can continue my exam. Here, allow me to help you take it off. "

I shivered as his hands touched me. I took deep pleasure in the way his warm hands lingered on my false bosom as he reached beneath my pinafore after he unfastened the bridle under my dress's collar with his arms up around my neck. He told me to turn around so he could unfasten the cinch around my waist from behind. Again, his hands lingered tentatively as he drew the big bow undone.

Then he told me to turn around to face him. I obeyed without hesitation. He sat down on a low stool with casters and told me to remove my dress and hang it on a hook on the wall. As I did, he made a note inside a folder that he had placed on the small, suspended wall desk when he first arrived.

He reached up behind me and removed my bra, letting it slip from my shoulders. He told me to place the bra over my dress and pinafore. He had to have noticed the bulge in my panties from my erection. I was so embarrassed by thinking sexy thoughts about him. He ignored it, and massaged my chest, as if he expected to find something. Well, he did, sort of. My tiny nipples reacted to his gentle touches and swelled. "Hmm, just as I suspected."

"What is it, doctor? Is something wrong?"

"No, not at all. Please get on the examination table and lie down. Won't you?" He came over to me, then removed my panties to extract my rampant manhood rigid and pointing, engorged with blood, even though I was trying to will it to stay down with all my might. I was totally embarrassed.

"I can clearly see that you enjoy being examined by me. Dressing in the manner I suggested doesn't seem to be entirely unpleasant to you, either. Does it? How do you account for your reactions to being touched by another man in this way?"

"Oh, doctor. I can't explain. Really, I can't. I'm so embarrassed. I never, ever felt this way about being near a handsome man before. You must believe me."

"I do. I also know exactly why you feel as you do. Allow me to explain it to you.

When you heard the jury's verdict and the sentence pronounced, deep inside of you, you had to admit you were guilty. Moreover, you are not intrinsically an evil person, so you wanted to rid yourself of the guilt that you felt. All you talked about when I first examined you was your deep fear of men molesting you in the same way you molested that girl, in fact, more than one girl. You felt as if you must deserve to be treated in the same way by other men for being so callous with women. Stories about men being molested in prison made you fear being in jail so much, you'd do anything in order to prevent your being molested like a girl.

To make peace with your conscience, your subconscious mind prompts you to vindicate yourself. To successfully rehabilitate you, we'll help you cope with your internal dilemma. That's why I decided to recommend you for participation in a special rehabilitation program we conduct here within the prison.

Otherwise, you're likely do one of two things after your dismissal from the prison. You'll go out and make a rather feeble attempt at impersonating a woman and search out men to purge you of guilt by using you as one. Or, you'll entice more innocent girls into engaging in casual sex with you, hoping their cooperation will vindicate your previous social transgressions that led to your conviction. Neither course of action can effectively cure you of the guilt you feel inside. Our program will because by participating in it, you will learn that engaging in sex need not be a guilt ridden exercise."

"How exactly does this program you recommend work?"

"By engaging repeatedly in consensual relationships, you will gradually learn how to direct your innermost sexual desires to adhere to prevailing social norms on the outside, in the future, after your release. It's a highly effect program."

"But, doctor! Gay sex isn't socially acceptable. There aren't any women here to help me to express myself. How can you be sure the program will be effective?"

"A very astute observation. Inside a prison, the majority of the general population often treats individuals who wear dresses and otherwise conduct themselves in a feminine manner as if that is what they really are. Yesterday afternoon, after you fell asleep watching television, I hypnotized you to determine the extent of your ability to assimilate to womanhood. Thus, I gained insight into your perception of the crime you committed. I ascertained that you're quite willing to engage in oral sexual relations with men, as a surrogate for women, to purge you of your guilt.

Armed with this background information, I'm recommending that you dress and behave like a woman for the remainder of your prison term. We will provide you with occasional, discreet encounters with understanding men so that you can conquer the inner guilt you feel regarding your crimes. Simple, don't you think?"

"I – I – said that I want to avoid sexual encounters with men. I only want them to leave me alone. Why do you suggest I look more attractive to them?"

"Normally, when a man is thrust into an environment where homosexual pursuit is likely to occur, he avoids being accosted sexually by assuming a strong male defensive posture. He'll defend his heterosexuality from attack at any cost. If he has reservations about his ability to defend himself adequately, he doesn't alert everyone outwardly. Instead, he quietly presents a cool veneer of firm resolve to prevent anyone from discovering his inability to defend himself. He may not be entirely successful, but he will resist submitting willingly, and will not cooperate in any. Eventually, he'll be left alone, a bit worse for the wear, but with his self-pride still intact. That's what normally happens.

In contrast, you were quite vocal about your fears of being raped. If you were left to fend for yourself, you'd soon find yourself sharing a bunk with a man who finds fear and trepidation appealing and rewarding. Word about your lack of resistance will spread quickly. You'll discover that men in a prison have little respect for men who are unwilling to protect themselves by using sheer brawn. You'd get beaten up severely and sexually abused time and time again and eventually present a serious problem to be resolved by the prison's officials.

After being raped repeatedly, you'll accept responsibility for your total lack of male courage complacently, but by then, it would be too late.

The men would recognize you as the coward you will become. You'll develop hatred toward the other men, the system and your own total lack of courage.

While hypnotized, you not only admitted your deepest fears. You also expressed a willingness to allow men to use you for sex in order to save your hide. Although we prefer to not interfere with the interpersonal relationships of inmates, so long as they aren't harming each other, we also recognize our duty to protect inmates who would otherwise suffer extensively at the hands of others. That's why we try to assist certain which inmates deserve an early release."

"I can appreciate your wanting to help doctor, but why not simply assign me to a dorm that doesn't house the kind of men you describe. Surely there are men here that don't force others to become intimate. I'm not about to invite men to molest me, and though I may not be forceful, I'm not that meek." Somewhat offended by his presumption that I was gay and would invite a gay relationship, I felt I had to tell him something. I didn't want him to think I was a flaming faggot.

"Based on what you divulged to me while in a deep trance, we can't guarantee your personal safety. You'll instigate outright hostility amongst men who will fight one another for the right to accost you first. We acknowledge that some men will be able to seduce you just by using forceful persuasion, some will try to rape you mercilessly with or without consent and a few may go so far as to torture you, out of sheer disgust for your apparent weakness and poor example of manhood that you'll portray to them. Furthermore, your responses to the quiz you took lack any indication you'll defend yourself appropriately if confronted.

We're responsible for your overall safety, but we can't predict how men will react toward your resigned attitude. We can't let the men indiscriminately abuse you to vent their resentment for being in a prison. The best way for the penal system to protect guys like you who detest all physical violence is to help you learn ways to bring out the best in the other men, rather than the worst. You can accomplish some degree of good by becoming attractive, a surrogate for their entertainment and pleasure in return for encouraging their good behavior, not by your mingling amongst them, or waiting for one to pounce on you….

Even the most aggressive men will respond better to tenderness than weakness. The hardest cases often become model prisoners knowing they have a chance to spend their free time communicating with a pleasant diversion from their woes on occasion. We don't encourage such sexual relations between men, but we do our best to encourage prisoners to make the most of their period of confinement.

By now, you must realize I administered a mild sedative to lower your resistance to being introduced to the program I suggest. You permitted someone to remove your facial hair using a laser. Then, you allowed two appointed mentors help you dress up for this appointment entirely in women's clothing, including the makeup.

Doesn't that alone suggest that deep down inside you harbor a sincere desire to assume a womanly role? So far, everything you already told me leads me to the conclusion that you will adapt to assuming a gentler lifestyle effortlessly. You already signed a sworn affidavit indicating you were so afraid of being physically harmed by other inmates, you'd agree to any form of therapy we recommend to avoid becoming the victim of brutal attacks, including changing the manner you present yourself to the other inmates. Did you not?"

"Yes, I suppose. I guess you're right. I have to admit: wearing this outfit is kind of fun. I didn't consider how dressing as a woman would make me feel. I never did any dressing in women's clothes before. I didn't know how to go about it. When the girls met with me this morning, I let them lead me on and like it.

I didn't know about being hypnotized, or that I would willingly adopt a feminine disguise to protect myself. I guess that means the idea was already formulating in the back of my mind. That explains why I accepted Clary's, Trudy's and the cosmetologist's help this morning. Will they continue to teach me more?"

"Yes, to be sure. You'll also be introduced to another new inmate who shares the same trepidation and fears. Together, the two of you can compare experiences and help each other progress. That way, with two of you working in consort, living and learning to cope together, you won't feel as lonely living in the special dorm here in the clinic away from the general population. You also won't be subjected to constant jeers and insults from the other men until you learn how to effectively assimilate mannerisms essential to your role."

What a remarkable revelation! The doctor uncovered my deepest fear, repressed even from myself. Under hypnosis I had no choice but to reveal the truth to him. Deep down inside, I must have always been afraid of being a sissy, so I felt I had to prove my manliness by accosting girls sexually. He was so nice in the way he presented it, taking his time to explain why I would be better off not bunking with a bunch of rough men. As he helped me put my outfit back on, I swooned at the way his hands felt lingering along my sensitive flesh, now much softer without all that silly hair. I blushed and sighed when he kissed my cheek and told me that I'd be glad that I came to terms with my true nature and accepted his diagnosis.

 

Chapter Five.

 

A nurse escorted me back to my dorm and told me I had some free time to spend as I wished. She suggested that I watch television and relax until Clary and Trudy returned. They would help me to practice getting dressed all by myself. As on the day before, I fell asleep watching television and I dreamed about learning how to do my own nails, how to wash and set my hair, and how to use makeup.

I had limited ways to deal with my outward appearance in the past. Oh, I could wear my hair longer or shorter, and dress either conservatively or daringly, but I couldn't look much different posing as a man. Women, on the other hand, can use clothing and accessories to create completely personality profiles. What a difference! In this program, I could fantasize to my heart's content

Dreaming, I envisioned myself as a schoolgirl cheerleader, secretary, tart, and best of all, a dominant vixen that never let men get the upper hand. To be able to make men cower in fear in my presence was something that must have appealed to my instincts, because I had a raging boner when I suddenly woke up, alone in the room. The light of day was fading fast away, and my stomach was telling me it had been neglected for too long past. I wondered if it were dinnertime. Since I hadn't eaten a thing since the day before, I was ravenous. I needed something to eat. For some reason I craved for raspberry ripple ice cream and licorice bits.

As if on cue, Clary and Trudy arrived with someone new in tow. She was a shy looking girl, wearing a cute pixie hairdo, perfectly done makeup and the same puffed up upper lip that I acquired earlier in the day, except that her lower lip was just as puffy. She was wearing a white hospital uniform with a pinstriped pinafore on it, just like me. I took it for granted that she was the other new candidate for working in the clinic's office that the doctor mentioned.

Trudy introduced her as: Ally. She then introduced me to Ally as Brandy. It was then I figured out the names we were to use were feminized versions of our male names, and assumed that Ally was previously known as Al. We exchanged some pleasantries, smiling, with me wondering whether or not this was her first day in a dress, too, wearing makeup and everything. I wondered if that was what she was thinking about me.

Clary turned to me and fidgeted with my hair a bit, as if it needed her attention. "Did you enjoy your nap, Brandy? You haven't had a bit to eat all day and must be starving. We can all go down to the main dining hall for dinner and congregate with the rest of the inmates or have the kitchen staff send up something for us, if you'd prefer. We know you're not used to how you look just yet, so there won't be any problem with our eating dinner together here within the dorm room. We even have a small "fridge' to keep some snacks handy. New girls can stir up a lot of commotion when they first arrive. I'm sure you two will, eventually. Do you think you're ready for that much excitement?"

I immediately declined. "No, please, I don't want to go anywhere near the rest of the inmates. I'm really not very hungry," I lied. I was sure all the men would leer at me and the worst of the lot would use the opportunity to entice me into being friendly with them, maybe even suggesting we become intimate. I shuddered at the thought. I wouldn't know how to respond to a lecherous man that saw me as a sex object. "A snack from the kitchen will do fine."

Ally agreed, and, as if to defend me, she said she would rather spend some time to get to know me better. She was looking at me in a strange way, as if she knew that I knew that she wasn't a real girl all along. She smiled at me and asked if the others could bring us a pizza or something light that we could share.

"Sure," Clary responded. "Is there anything in particular that you crave, Brandy?"

"Yes, matter of fact, I do. It may sound silly to the rest of you, but when I woke up I had a taste for some raspberry ice cream and licorice. Isn't that odd?"

Ally chuckled. "I get unusual cravings sometimes, too. I like anything that has a lot of whipped cream on it. I'd go down to the kitchen right now to get some if I knew my way around." Her hint to the others was obvious. She wanted to talk to me without them hearing what she had to say.

Trudy went along. "No problem. Clary and I will bring up a sausage pizza and a raspberry sundae for each of you. How's that? There's some soda in the fridge, if you're thirsty. We're not allowed to drink anything stronger, unless when we're invited to serve guests at a cocktail party the people in administration host. Then, we get to sneak a drink or two, when no one is paying any attention to us." Her eyes were searching for a reaction from Ally and me. Ally seemed to perk up, but I admitted that I don't drink alcohol because it makes me ill.

Our two mentors left us alone together. Right after they departed, Ally came over to me and softly asked me if I was going to spend the evening wearing my work clothes. "I want to take a quick shower and get into something more comfortable. Would you care to join me?" I sat down in the corner in the easy chair.

I was taken aback at her boldness "Take a shower with you?"

She giggled. "There's room enough. We're both guys, after all, but only if you'd like to. I was really referring to our changing into something sexy. We're bound to see each other in the buff, sooner or later. Why not do it now, and get used to the idea? " She turned around and asked me to undo the bow of her pinafore.

I stood up to comply. Her fanny stuck out and looked like it was twice the size of her waistline. If she really had been a girl, I would have been glad to make a play for her. She asked me to lift her collar and undo the buttons. When I did it, she turned to face me. I remember how I felt when the doctor eased my pinafore's bib away from my protruding chest. Ally was reacting in the same way. I could almost see her tense up and shiver as my hand accidentally touched her bosom.

"Sorry. I wasn't being fresh." I was redder by a few shades.

"I'm not. Aren't they just super? I love having them. My pimp made me get these boobs so I couldn't go around dressed as a guy anymore. Ever since, all I ever wear is kinky stuff. I should have been born a woman. I love to wear frilly things, the really sexy stuff that shows the whole world what I've got."

"You had a pimp?"

"Of course. Guys like us haven't got a prayer of a chance for defending ourselves and need a pimp's protection. Too bad he was an asshole. A trick got too rough with one of the girls and he beat the guy senseless; put him into a hospital. I tried to tell him his wild temper would get us all into trouble. What an asshole.

The 'john' must have been a cop or something, or he had influential friends high up on the police force, 'cause the cops raided our pad the next night. My pimp and I were the only two arrested. The rest of his girls were busy entertaining their clients at the time. I wonder who takes care of them now? Oh, well. I got charged as an accessory. I was sent here because it's my first conviction. I was picked up for soliciting once, but my pimp's lawyer helped beat that rap. All I got was a firm slap on the wrist. I wasn't as lucky this time around.

The doctor in the clinic that I had to see right away gave me the option of working in a special program meant for guys like us or being put in a cell with some goon that would force me to become his personal whore. Some choice, huh? Don't get me wrong honey. I prefer men, but I'm not about to whore for some con to get by. Needing a pimp for protection was bad enough. At least in this program here we have the penal system working for us.

Don't get me wrong. I like women, too. I liked them a lot, especially the ones who look like you. That's how I got started in crossdressing." All the while she was talking, Ally was taking off all of her clothes as if it was nothing at all. I was too befuddled to know what to do. When she let her dress fall to the floor, I got to see the corset that she was wearing. It was no wonder her body looked genuine! Her figure looked perfect in it!

"Like what you see? Never mind. I can see that you do." She knelt down and put her hand under my skirt and took a hold of my rigid cock. Seeing this wild nymph dressed in a tight corset got my dick as hard as steel. I was paralyzed with fear of what was about to happen. Somewhere in my foggy mind I heard her exclaiming: "I'm getting my share of whipped cream, right now." She pushed me back into the chair. She scurried closer on her knees and her head disappeared under my skirt while I was wondering whether or not I wanted to divert her from her quest. I felt warm lips encompassing my cock so swiftly I hardly had a chance to figure out a way to resist. Within a minute, I was pumping a humongous load of sperm into her mouth. I could swear that she had some of my thick cock lodged deep within her throat. No girl ever did anything like that for me before.

"Gawd!" That was the greatest orgasm I ever felt. "Gawd!" Even though I shot the biggest wad that I could remember, I was still hard as steel. My throbbing cock refused to get soft. A second explosion soon followed which shook me right down to my toes. Still, Ally continued to suck away. I moved my dress higher, grabbed her head in my hands and adjusted her stroking to slow her pace. She nodded her head and took my entire shaft deep inside very slowly. I couldn't believe how good her lips felt as they slid along the pulsing surface of my cock. She was a pro, that's for sure. I wasn't sure if I had another cum in me, but it didn't take very long to find out.

With me screaming out at the top of my voice, I let loose the third orgasm. She gobbled it down as if there were no tomorrow. Finally, she let my softening cock slip from between her thick lips and licked me with her tongue until I regained the strength to lift her shoulders away from my weary thighs.

I looked into her smiling face in utter awe. "Wow! That was unbelievable Ally! Do you like doing that for a guy? I thought only girls enjoyed doing it."

She cuddled up to me, with her head on my lap, stroking my nylon-clad thigh.

"We're girls now, well kinda. With a doctor's help we can become perfectly good replicas, you know. I don't want to lose my wanger, though. Looking pretty gives me a rush, but I don't want a pussy. Yuk. The very idea is disgusting to me.

I like to see the expression on a guy's face when he finds out what I keep hidden inside my panties. Maybe it isn't as big as a lot of guys' but it still works okay. If I skip my meds for a few days, it can get as hard as yours was a few minutes ago.

Even when it doesn't, I still have great orgasms when I'm with the right person. The meds I take make my orgasms feel much better, too. You ought to try it out. Doing what I just did for you isn't a bit wrong for such sensitive guys like us."

"Do you think so?" What was I saying? Was she expecting me to reciprocate? How could I? Suddenly, the thought of her giving me head again was making my cock begin to stir once more. Or, was it the thought of my going down on her that was making my skirt tent up again?

"I'm going to get changed, Andy. Why don't you take a nice, hot shower with me and think on it? As long as you have to look like a girl to work in the clinic office, you might as well behave like one, too. Who can tell? Maybe you'll learn to like the men chasing after you. I sure do. Girls are lucky. They don't have to chase someone to have sex. All they need to do is wait for the right man to come along and ask. Don't look at me that way! You'll find out! I'll bet you'll soon be wagging your tail at the men, once you find out how good it feels to have your prostate massaged with a rigid dong. Why not? Girls shouldn't be the only lucky ones to be lavished with sweet kisses and expensive gifts. Sensitive guys like us deserve the same benefits that girls can get.

Men are spineless. A girl has to make things clear to them before they'll make a move. You'll see. Having sex with men is, well, it's sex. Whether it's with a guy or a girl, you still get off in the same way, once you learn how to encourage men to treat you nicely. I don't like forceful guys. I like my men considerate. You know?"

Ally was undressing me, insisting that she help me to get ready for my shower. She paused in her speech about learning to enjoy having men as lovers to kiss my shoulders and fondle my chest, once she took off my padded bra. I couldn't help myself. I was getting another boner. Then, she kissed me softly right on my lips. I could smell my sperm on her breath. I knew how it smelled from kissing a girl after she had given me a blowjob. Ally's kisses felt and tasted the same way.

She took my right hand in hers and directed it to her groin. It felt just like a girl's, soft and desirable. I knew she didn't have a twat, but I didn't care. So what if her clit was bigger than most girls'. I wanted to see it and touch it and kiss it.

I sank down to my knees and pulled her panties down. Her red corset looked like the one I had seen in my dreams. I closed my eyes, leaned forward, and kissed the very tip of her lovely soft cock. I felt it twitch a little, so I kissed it again.

"Part your lips and use your tongue. French kiss it, Brandy. See what happens."

I did as she asked and was rewarded with a bit of her nectar. "See, I told you that it still works. All you have to do is encourage it a little. Place your lips around the head and it will get bigger, you'll see, just like your cock did, when I was sucking you off. The head of a cock doesn't care much if the lips on it are a man's lips."

I let out a little hum as the head of her cock began to twitch more. "There. What did I tell you? A cock is just a hunk of flesh, nothing more, but it feels real good right now, with your warm lips surrounding it, just like your cock felt to you." She began to rock back and forth. More and more of her slowly hardening cock filled my cheeks. I felt good about exciting her, almost as good as exciting a real girl. Sure, her clit was enormous, but her bucking was just like a girl's. I remembered a girl who gushed whenever I kissed her snatch. Ally smelled better than her, and she tasted better, too.

Ally was suddenly gushing, just like a girl but her juices tasted very different. It wasn't at all pungent, but seemed much thicker. I wanted more, but she gasped and put her hand against my forehead to push me away. "Oh, darling that was so grand. I'm going to teach you all about "deep throat" later. Now it's time for us to take a quick shower and get ready for the pizza party with Clary and Trudy. The pizza they're bringing must be ready by now. They've been gone an hour."

I nodded and got up off my knees and took the rest of my things off. There didn't seem any need to be bashful in front of Ally anymore.

I got into the shower stall and marveled at how easily I let everyone I met here so far lead me down a very unusual path. The doctor, Clary, Trudy and even Ally; they all wanted me to comply with this program for some reason. Ah! That's it! They'll get paroled sooner! No, that doesn't explain why the doctor is being so persuasive. Have to make a point of asking him.

Hmm. Ally had no trouble in persuading me to let her suck me off, and then do what I truly feared the most. I sucked her off in return and it didn't kill me. In fact, I complacently enjoyed it. I was concerned as to why I was to dress as a woman full-time, and why that doctor insisted it was the best thing to do. He seemed so adamant, but I wasn't convinced being vocal about being raped was the reason.

I didn't have much choice. If I didn't play along I'd get tagged as a troublemaker. Then they could ship me off to a higher security prison and toss me in a cell with some hardened criminal that hasn't had sex with a woman for years. I didn't need a house to fall on me to know what was bound to happen. The doctors would be stitching me up, for sure. Ugh! No, thank you!

I then recalled that Trudy or Clary mentioned something about our serving guests at some administrative cocktail parties. Maybe we are being groomed to become hostesses for regal affairs hosted by some public officials. If that's so, an unusual dress-up program makes more sense. Surely the prison didn't groom some of the inmates to become sex slaves for the rest of the prison population. Officials were free men able to pursue normal sexual relationships. Why would they want to bother with getting involved with men that merely posed as women, instead?

I decided that I'd discover the real reasons for the special program soon enough. In the mean time, I'd play along. With Ally for a roommate, my life wouldn't be entirely hard to endure. I envisioned her down on her knees again, sucking me off. Not too bad a deal, at all. It's only right for me to do be nice and reciprocate, if she wants it. That isn't too much to ask in return. She appears to be a lovely person, who was faced with unfortunate circumstances that led her to living a promiscuous lifestyle, that's all. I suppose I'd have done the same in her place.

I hoped that pimp of Ally's got his comeuppance wherever they sent him. Guys with a vile personality like that should see what it's like to be on the receiving end. I wondered if he ever gave Ally head. Naw. Guys like that only take. They never give anything in return. Being forced into getting his lazy ass pumped raw would serve him right, the jerk. I may have made my share of mistakes in life, but I'm not so rotten as to force women and even guys to sell their bodies.

It's too bad I had to learn my lesson the hard way. I decided to be a lot nicer to other people. Give and take in equal measure and face things bravely as they come along. I still didn't understand my reasons for being so complacent about agreeing to participate this bizarre program.

 

Chapter Six.

 

I heard them calling out for me. Clary and Trudy must have returned with the pizza. I got out of the shower and put on my fluffy new robe. I found it hanging right where I had left it, on the hook on the inside of the bathroom door, when Trudy and Clary helped me get dressed in the morning. When I left the bathroom, I found Clary, Trudy and Ally wearing robes identical to mine. "I didn't take any clothes with me. I forgot. Did you all put on robes so I wouldn't feel out of place?"

Trudy responded. "This is what we'll usually wear when we hang out, pardon the pun. You'll need to refresh your makeup though, Brandy. Your cheeks are far too rosy. You'll create a stir if one of the guards pops in to make a bed check. Let me help you." She led me to the small stool by the mirrored vanity and went at it.

"Won't the pizza get cold? Can't it wait until we had some?"

"Nope! Part of the price of looking beautiful is constant vigilance. Don't ever let a man see you without makeup on. Always look your best."

She didn't take long. I was still surprised at how easy she made it seem. Less than five minutes later, my face looked radiant. I wondered how long it would take me to learn how to do it so well, myself.

"So, Ally tells us that you give pretty good head for a beginner. How did you like sucking her cock?"

I spun around and gave Ally a dirty look and thought of: her cock? "Thanks a lot, Ally. I guess I won't be able to depend on you to keep any secrets. Will I?"

"Hey, it was their idea from the very start. That's why both they both went out to get the pizza instead of having one sent up. They instructed me to find out what you know about sucking cock, so I did. Does it matter? You're a cocksucker like the rest of us now so don't be claiming to be so virginal. You didn't act reluctant to have me suck your dick, first. In fact, you blew your loads three times. Didn't you? Admit it. You love a good tongue lapping!"

"True. Is that how things are going to be around here? Do we have to suck men off on demand in order to qualify for the parole? "They all nodded their heads to make the matter plain as day. "Well, I never did it before. You told me you were a hooker and liked to do it. I didn't think you'd blab what I did. Maybe I should have refused to cooperate."

"Never mind," said Trudy. "If you expect to share a room with Ally, you'll have to earn it. The sooner you get used to licking dick and acquire a taste for hot sperm, the sooner Clary and I will be eligible for our paroles. Now, don't get sassy and tell us that you aren't in the mood to learn how, because it doesn't matter. Come here and get on your knees." She pointed to her crotch and opened her robe.

Like Ally, she was wearing a tight corset that cradled her breasts but left them out in the open. Her naked crotch sported a soft cock that had to be twice the size of Ally's. "Since you're new to sucking cocks, we'll teach you how to properly give a man good head with class moves. Once you learn good technique, they'll love you for it. That's what you expected from your prior girlfriends. Now, it's your turn.

You're going to fulfill the part of a compliant girlfriend during your stay in prison, so you might as well learn some neat tricks and become talented at the fine art of fellatio. All you need is practice. We're here to provide you with plenty. You'll get into the swing of things and become highly proficient in no time. Don't try to tell us you didn't suspect what your new role was going to be from the very start. You didn't give us a hard time when we helped you put on your first dress. I think you knew what was in store it all along and didn't know how to admit it gracefully."

"You're right. I did figure it out this morning, but by that time, I was already in a robe, on my way to get my bread removed. For some reason, I wondered what being more feminine would feel like, so I simply let you and Clary lead me along. I just wasn't expecting things to move along so rapidly. Since then, the doctor told me he knew I would prefer looking feminine to having the inmates treat me roughly. If that's so, why do I still have a gut feeling I'll end up in a hospital bed recuperating from a tragic event with a guy that gets his kicks by hurting people?"

"Lesson number one: girls all fear being brutally raped. The prettier a girl is, the more likely some jackass will want to use her for a punching bag or pin cushion. That's life, I'm afraid. Fear of physical harm goes with the territory. If you didn't fear being injured, you'd be less inclined to defend yourself against it. I suppose the doctor also heightened your fears while you were being hypnotized, or while you were zonked out watching TV. The programs you watched yesterday were laced with subliminal messages. Trust me. I watched them religiously too, even though I know damned well their purpose is to indoctrinating me into femininity. I think they help to make us more compliant, too."

"Oh!"

"Oh, what?"

"I was musing while taking my shower earlier about why I didn't resist Ally's seduction. I knew, or at least, I assumed she was really a guy, but I let her put the make on me, anyway, like she was a real girl. That explains a lot.

Still, I don't think that I'd ever let another guy give me head if he doesn't look like a girl. It wasn't because of some form of trickery, either. I let her do it!"

"Don't go overboard now, Brandy."

"That's another thing. I didn't even wince when you introduced me to Ally using that name. My name is – aw, what difference does it make? I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place. I guess I'm going to be 'Brandy' from now on."

"Well, time for your first lesson, girl. I've been saving up my load for you all day. If you don't get down on your knees for me now, you will tomorrow. What do you say? Are you up for your first dick licking lesson?"

I watched Trudy flipping her cock around. It was enticing looking as hell to me. Without any further adieu, I got to my knees as gracefully as I knew how and paid homage to her growing cock. I found her cock more rigid than Ally's, and it was a lot larger, as well. I swallowed her ejaculate as fast as I could, but there was so much of it, some still ended going up into my nasal passages. Trudy's hot cum flowed out from her cock like from out of a fountain. I coughed and gagged on it.

"Not bad for a beginner. Now lick me off, so I don't stain my corset." I reverently did as she bid, humbled by her crass choice of language. When she pushed me away, I tried to rise.

Clary casually took her place on the overstuffed chair as I wiped Trudy's cum off of my chin. "You're not done yet. Do me now. I get more feminine hormones than Trudy; so don't expect me to get as hard as her. Nonetheless, I love a good hum job. Think of my cock as a big clit. I must warn you, I'm not finished until after at least six orgasms. Since I had my gonads removed, I have multiple orgasms like you wouldn't believe. Without interference from testosterone, my pecker acts just like a girl's clit. Just twiddle it with the very tip of your tongue and watch me go into hyper-drive. I can't wait for Doctor Picket to arrange the final operation.

When I leave this place, I'll be 100% female. Be nice to me and you might be the first to try out my new pussy. You may have to challenge Trudy for the privilege, though, but then again, she may be long gone by then, so don't give up hope."

"You are getting your dick cut off?"

"It's called sexual reassignment, sweetie. Yeah, that's how I want it. Now, suck!"

I stared at her shriveled up cock, wondering why in the world she would want to do such a monstrous thing. Even flaccid, her cock seemed very lovely to look at. I shuddered at the thought of a doctor purposely removing it. It was so adorable. "Oh, please. Why destroy such a lovely cock?"

"Does gazing at my worthless stump give you an insight about your perspective, Brandy? How many cocks have you been dreaming about lately? Do you recall ever talking about a penis like it was a priceless treasure before? Concentrate. Do you desire sucking on men's pricks so much that you cringe at the thought of my intentions to have my token cock severed forever? It doesn't get hard, as you will soon find out. What good is having it? I can't fuck a cabbage, let alone a girl with a soft, warm pussy. I prefer my internal orgasms, anyway. If you want yours to atrophy, tell Doctor Picket. He'll shoot you up with enough spirolactone to kill your ability to produce any sperm. Once your nuts shrink up, he'll remove them, so you can have nicer skin tone other girls will envy. I'm 90% girl right now. All I need is one final procedure."

Procedure? I tried to remember what the doctor had told me. I agreed to submit to medications and procedures that he felt would be most appropriate. Was I to lose my ability to produce sperm? I began to shake with alarm. The whole room began to spin. I felt myself falling backwards while all the lights went out.

 

Chapter Seven.

I woke up from deep within a fog. I could hear the voice of a girl crying. She didn't want to become a woman and pleaded with someone, over and over. "Please don't take my cock away. Please, I beg of you. Don't cut it off. I promise to do whatever you want, but don't do that. Don't do it. Leave me alone. I'm a man."

"Hello, Brandy, darling. Welcome back. Can you hear me?" The familiar voice of the plaintiff girl's father pierced the veil of my foggy mind. I tried to respond, but my tongue was held flat. A tube inside my mouth allowed breathing, but I couldn't speak. I was floating, immersed in a tank of some kind deprived of mobility and any sensory perception, except for the soft, insistent voice.

"If you can hear me, press the bulb that's in your right hand once. To say no, press the bulb twice. I'll ask you some questions. All you need to do is answer them. Understood?"

I pressed the bulb once.

"Good. My, my, but you have certainly been a bit of a troublesome problem to us. You see, Brandy, you passed out in the courtroom before the jury foreman got a chance read the verdict. Tsk tsk tsk! Too bad, it's a royal shame really. The jury let you off, you sorry scumbag. Fortunately, no one else wanted any part of you. You were taken to the County hospital where you spent more over three weeks suffering from delirium. You had a total breakdown, lad. The doctors say you are still seriously ill, but there's still hope.

In a fit of true compassion, I arranged for you to be taken to a special clinic for a thorough emotional evaluation. For, unless I did that, you were bound to recover someday and accost my darling daughter or some other girl yet again. I couldn't have that happen. Could I? Surely, you understand. What's a loving father to do?

I know, I know. You felt that you were innocent. You blamed my daughter. I can't agree. Good girls don't seduce men, and my sweet daughter is a fine young girl. We raised her well. She would never stoop so low. I still can't figure out how you posed the fainting spell in court. It was a stroke of pure genius. I was sure they'd send you to jail. Instead, they let you off. They bought your cunning ploy, damn it!

Well, sometimes, things work out for the best. Now you'll have the special care you need to make something good of your life, and not torment more innocents. Yes, the doctors tell me it is only a matter of time before you regain your senses. Isn't that simply marvelous? You'll be free to resume an active life, soon. Press the bulb, so I know that you understand. Are you pleased with their prognosis?"

I pressed the bulb once.

"Very good, Brandy. Oh, did you notice my use of your new name? Your identity had to be altered slightly, legally, to match your new appearance. I assume that you will be very pleased with the painstaking care I took to assure you get what you always wanted. You're sure to enjoy many a good time with others like you.

I observed the procedures the doctors used to expand your firm breasts and alter your voice box to elevate the pitch of your voice. You'll look and sound simply scrumptious for your male lovers, just like my darling daughter was to you. You wished to view her lovely tits, did you? Well, now you can gaze upon a pair just like hers, any time that you want to. All you need to do is look into a mirror.

Oh, by the way. Your long hair is gone. I guess you had a bad reaction to those meds the doctors used to cure the tumor you supposedly had on your useless noggin that caused you to pass out and encouraged your bad behavior. You'll get used to the synthetic implant. Your new hair needs washing and setting like real hair, but the fibers are so strong; they'll never wear or pull out. Keen, huh?

Now, your lovely lips are another story. My daughter's lips aren't as full as yours, but I believe you liked large lips, so that's the kind of lips you have now. They are a bright red in color so everyone seeing you will know the kind of person that you are. They are designed to massage a man's penis exquisitely. Does the thought of your keeping a man satisfied with your lips excite you?

I pressed the bulb once.

Wonderful! I thought so. The administrator promised me the conditioning they'd use is highly effective. Do you really want men to stick their hard cocks into you? You may press the bulb, now, darling. I'm very eager to know."

Again, I pressed the bulb once.

How pleased I am. I do have some sad news to share with you. Did you know that my dear wife passed on recently and my daughter ran off with the first man that came along after the trial? Somehow I feel that my wife's anguish over the bad publicity at the trial had a great deal to do with her serious heart condition. Can you imagine? Life turned into shambles overnight, with my daughter who now despises me for my dragging her through the court battle that led nowhere.

Then, I lost my dearest wife of over twenty years. Goodness knows, I loved that woman, and I was faithful to her. Where in the world can I find someone that will replace her tender affections now she has passed on? Can you guess?"

Again, one pump was all that was needed.

"Of course! You know! I'm afraid you won't be able to bear children of your own, so our civil arrangement will have to suffice. You can come to live with me as soon as you are ready for dismissal. I'll treat you well. I'm not a vindictive man.

Now that justice has been served, I will assume full charge for your welfare, my dear. Of course, I'll expect an eager cocksucker since you aren't properly able to have sex like a woman, but then, you aren't properly capable of having sex like a man any more; so you'll do your best, like you've been trained. Won't you?

I squeezed on the bulb once then tried again. I couldn't make the damned bulb collapse a second time.

"If your sexual demands on me exceed my meager ability, I'll simply lend you out to a few choice friends that expressed an avid interest when I explained how you intend to live with me in my new condo. Yes, our lives took a sudden change that night I caught you abusing my daughter. Since then, my youngest daughter, my favorite, also ran off with a heart filled with hatred because of you.

I decided to sell my business. Hell, I have enough money to last several lifetimes.

We'll spend all our evenings together. Think of all the fun that we'll have. Well, I see that it's time for your next deportment drill. Do be obedient. Will you? Being obstinate won't help any. You look absolutely darling, my dear. Bye for now."

As I quietly lay suspended in total silence, I began to cry. What has happened to me? How did everything run afoul? I was under the impression that I went to jail, not to some clinic. I wanted out, but I was unable to move an inch.

After an undeterminable time, a dull, repetitive mantra began.

"Howard O'Neil is a wonderful man. He generously has agreed to support you if you will become his attentive mistress. His hairy cock is thick and long, just you like your lover's cock to be. He will satisfy your intense craving for giving oral sex. You'll want him. You'll have no greater desire in life than to please him. I waited for an electrical shock, but none came. I pressed the bulb one time.

The mantra repeated over and over. It must have been ages since I first heard Doctor Picket tell me that prisons don't always have bars. My prison was inside of my troubled mind. The only hope for escape was to confirm my destiny again.

With my heart and soul, I pled with Doctor Picket again and again. Still, the man refused to hear my pleas. He wasn't convinced, nor was he satisfied that I was truly devoted to the man he said was responsible for my continued recovery. He told me that after the trial ended, I went into a deep stupor. He only drew me out of my torment by releasing the mental chains that bound me to my past.

He said I was perverted, a man that used women for pleasure, but gave none in return. A lasting cure was predicated on my devoting my life to please a man that I had wronged through my callous behavior. I stole something precious from him: the love of his wife and his daughters. To regain self-esteem and prevent relapse into my tormented dreams, I would have to comfort and please him. I agreed.

To insure my own future happiness, I agreed to become his epitome of apparent womanhood, to serve him dutifully in every way I could, yet retain my manhood, as punishment for the wrong that I did. I remember asking doctor Picket to alter my appearance according to Mr. O'Neil's specifications. To remain in my foggy oblivion with no hope of ever recovering was a living nightmare, so I begged the doctors to make me over. They did.

In addition, the doctors advised me I would be much happier if I allowed them to mentally reprogram parts of my memory to erase the bad parts, so I'd become a perfect model of loyal obedience to Mr. O'Neil. They told me I'd understand more after my physical alterations were completed.

I look like a sexy woman now. They removed bones, and sculpted others, so I walk with a definite sway. My big butt sticks out as far back as my breasts stick out in front. I can easily place my palms between my toes without bending my knees, because my waistline was taken in dramatically. I can also bend over backwards and touch the floor. I am very nimble, as well as very sexy.

No one would ever guess that I am still a man unless I choose show them what is left of my once proud cock, the cock I used to stick into young girls' mouths for sexual release.

Now, the notion makes me ill, unless I have a man's firm cock to kiss and fondle. Then, and only then I can get an erection. Better yet, having a man's cock plug my plush, but tight bottom with his cock makes me turn into jelly.

I love having sex with men and can't get enough. The doctors convinced me that Mr. O'Neil promised to provide me with all the male attention I'll ever crave. He is due to arrive soon to let me prove my devotion to him. In Mr. O'Neil's presence, I am to reward four men that taught me all about how to be an obedient sex toy, for that is what I am destined to be from now on. I can't wait to prove my skills to him by making a porn video with me as the star. I hope that it pleases him and he doesn't turn me away. If he does, I will be lost. I have nowhere else to turn to for help. I might as well be sold to a brothel, for I have no other skills.

 

Chapter Eight.

Eight men sat around the penthouse lounge area when I came out of my room. Each had a smile and kiss for me, which I eagerly accepted with an open mouth. At my master's cue, I started my strip tease to get the men excited. Howard was brimming with delight as my soft penis came into view. "See. As I promised you, she was once a man. Now she's a silly cock-sucking slave. Aren't you baby?"

I nodded. I am only to speak if I cannot respond by nodding. That's the rules.

The men got up and began to feel me up all over as I flitted my way between them, not wanting any to feel neglected. Oh, how I loved it! Men all around me, eager to have me swallow their rich seminal fluids. I love the taste of it. I've had my lips expanded three times now. They don't look much bigger, but each of the treatments extended my lips out more. I can feel my lips touching as much as a half of a man's cock as he slips his stiff boner into my eager mouth.

I'm the best there is. I love to give men head. Many want to fill my butt with their hard cocks, but I prefer to use my lips to get them off, and I'm very good at giving head. It thrills me to feel men shooting their hot spunk down my throat.

Only Howard ever gets to access my back door, unless he orders me otherwise. Then, I defer to his wishes. He doesn't force me to do that often. He is a prudent master. He knows that a sexual disease will ruin everything for both of us. So he won't ever let another man put his pecker into my boy pussy without adequate protection, and then he lets them know that he is rendering them a huge favor.

Men always ask me to date them, but Howard is my only companion whenever I venture outside of our penthouse apartment. What Howard collects from guests pays for everything we need. I want Howard to leave his money to his kids. After all, I was the one responsible for their leaving home. It must be hard on Howard.

Now, he insists on visiting his kids where they live, and he never takes me along. I think they know that I'm his trashy sexpot, but they don't confront poor Howard.

Me, I'm forever grateful for his tenderness toward me. I remember how bad I felt about going to prison, even if it was only in a dream. What would I possibly do if I had to rely on myself for my protection? Goodness knows! I probably would have had hundreds of stitches up my butt from receiving overzealous lovers. You see, I can't say no, so I leave discretion up to Howard. He decides which men I'll get to suck off (many), and which ones (only very few) that are permitted to tickle my spinal column from the inside.

It used to take a lot of coaxing from girls' lips for me to be sexually sated. Now I have several orgasms that tingle all over, just from my thinking about Howard's lovely big penis penetrating my lips or my tush. I don't get to use my penis very much anymore, but I hardly miss using it, not with Howard keeping me filled with his wonderful cock and the other generous men he so graciously provides me.

Got to go now. Howard is inviting his glee club over tonight, so I have to prepare for the big party. Toodle-ooh.

  

  

  

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