If Only He Had Known...
by Gennie TV
Justine had just finished cleaning the bathroom and since Miss. Gennie was not yet home, decided s/he could risk a short break. S/he carefully smoothed her short satin skirt and crossed her long, smooth, silk encased legs as s/he sat. S/he marveled at how automatic these simple feminine gestures had become. Only a short year ago had you even suggested to justine that s/he would be sitting in a woman's bathroom, dressed not in jeans and a t-shirt as might be expected of a young man but, as a frilly, fetishtic, French maid frothing in lace, and wobbling on sky high locked on heels: Her heavily boned full length corset keeping her back straight and her implant enhanced breasts under control: Her permanently attached chastity a never ending reminder that she could no longer even pee as a man s/he would have taken a swing at your chin and laughed if you showed signs of pain.
That of course was before s/he had been set up by that bitch who was now her mistress. Before a year of intensive hormone therapy and implants had made his/her once well muscled body into the soft curvaceous form it had since acquired. Before her daily sessions with her hypnotherapist had made it impossible for her defy Miss. Gennie's commands. (Miss. Gennie, had made it very clear that her therapy was not to help her accept her new role, but rather to assure that s/he would always remember her manhood. And that anytime that her mannerisms, her tone of voice, her walk, her thrill as her DD tits were massaged by another person, male or female, were brought to conscience thought, so with it would come the hypno-enhanced embarrassment and humiliation felt by a man forced to wear skirts because s/he could not remember how to put on a pair of pants, or even shorts.)
That was of course before he, Jason Kraine, millionaire playboy, had tried to rape that sweet little secretary. Not that she hadn't asked for it. Always smiling at him, wiggling her tight little ass in front of him she knew she was driving him crazy. Leaning over and showing off her ample cleavage. It's not like she was a regular office employee or anything. She was just a temp hired for the busy summer season. She owed Jason something for allowing her to work for him. Jason felt that without his agency she wouldn't even have had a job. He told her she should be thankful to him. And in Jason's mind she certainly appeared to be. Jason realized too late that he had been set up. The trap had already been sprung by the time he realized what was happening. He was trapped. Trapped in a world of frills and fluff, of curtsies and makeup A world of femininity he could no longer remember how to escape.
His punishment, the judge had said would be at the hands of Miss. Gennie who had offered her services to the court since the jails were so overcrowded. And that his sentence was to last an indeterminate period of time. Jason's attorney, hired of course by Miss Gennie, said that she would do her best to appeal his sentence to a higher court (The Miss. Gennie Supreme Court?). That was the last he had seen or heard of her. His calls (when he could sneak a chance to use a phone) to her office were a series of messages left, but never replied to. He tried the police once and was treated as some kind of crackpot.
"Jason Kraine", he was told "was killed last winter just after his conviction on charges of raping a minor. He was out on bail pending appeal when his car hit an ice patch and ended up in Lake Michigan. It was assumed that he was drunk and driving too fast again. No, neither the body nor the car was ever recovered. The report was filed by several eyewitnesses that clearly saw him behind the wheel, and got the license number before the car broke through the ice. It was big news in all the papers, and did she know it was against the law to pretend to be a dead guy with some crazy story about being turned into a woman." The cop not only thought Jason a crackpot but a female crackpot at that, how embarrassing. That was of course before his therapy made such calls impossible for him. It seemed now every time justine picked up the phone to call for help s/he would forget why s/he picked up the phone.
His only hope now was that one day Miss Gennie would relent and return him to his former status of millionaire playboy. Of course he would have to have breast reduction surgery, and figure out some way to bring his hips back down to size. (justine was still in awe of the fact that he could loose so much weight and have his ass and thighs grow so big. The doctor said that it was genetic; his mother must have been full figured. justine could still remember his acute embarrassment at the roars of laughter his complaints and the doctor's explanation had brought from Miss. Gennie.) But the longer he remained in her service under her thumb totally dependent upon her for everything, the deeper he slipped into that fatalistic mindset of learned helplessness.
Since the trial Jason had been treated at best, as a third class citizen, he Jason Kraine, a multi-millionaire, working as an overly feminine maid evenings and weekends, and a skirted, painted bimbo of a file clerk during the day, at HIS own agency no less. All his money unavailable to him, his name changed his independence a dim memory. Had his father only told him about the new security cameras before he had died. Had he only thought not to threaten Leticia, Miss. Gennie's assistant, with her job if she did not go to bed with him. If only he had known that because Miss. Gennie had worked for his father for so long, she knew of the new security system, and used it against him. If only he had known that Miss. Gennie had vowed that she would get even with that arrogant little ass of a son of Mr. Kraine. If only that secretary had been 18, she certainly looked 18, and talked 18, and felt 18 as she was laying there on top of the copy machine, her short little skirt up around her waist, and her panties in the paper tray...
If only he had known...
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