Warning: The Following Story Is True.
It is based upon an actual tabloid article.

 

The Master: Yearbook Pictures         by: Rocketman

 

Another damn fraud. Tabloid journalist Roger Andrews threw up his hands in disgust. He tossed away the top sheets, and rooted through the rest. On a good day, he received about five tips that looked newsworthy. Today, nothing.

Taking a reflexive sip of coffee, he glanced through the ones at the bottom of the pile. Five years at The Rising Star and he’d got nothing but celebrity wrongdoing tips along with the occasional scandal. No alien sightings worth more than a second look, not a single interview with Bigfoot.

Editor-in-Chief, Jack Masters realized that Roger wasn’t going to get the biggest stories of all time, but he at least wanted him to get enough justify his column, "Stunning Events!"

Roger tossed the bulk of pile over the side, left with only one unexamined clipping. It was an article in the Davesport News, which read "Teenage Girl Diagnosed With Bizarre Case of Multiple Personality Disorder". The bulk of the story mentioned the wide-reaching effects of the disorder and it’s impact on life in the United States. Bull, thought Roger as he finished reading and turned it over.

At the end of the article, the writer mentioned briefly that the girl’s illness caused her to think she was a missing senior named Josh Peters.

Attached to the article was a set of handwritten notes.

"Dear, Mr. Andrews. A friend of mine who is an avid reader of The Rising Star told me about your interest in the paranormal. How do I begin? Three weeks ago, my name was Josh Peters. Now, it’s Samantha. Just Samantha, because my family still doesn’t accept me.

It all began when I received a note in the mail for Senior Class Pictures. I was horrified, expecting them later in the year. I wasn’t what you would call handsome; rather I was acne pocked and overweight. Since the photo shoot was tomorrow I couldn’t just run the extra pounds off, nor could I cover my face in zit cream.

My mother reassured my, saying the extra pounds wouldn’t show up on camera and I could use her makeup to cover up my blemishes. We tried a little bit and discovered that it was the wrong tone for my skin. It made my face look like I splashed mud on it and worst of all, didn’t cover anything up.

Mom gave me ten bucks and told me to go downtown and get a container with makeup for my skin tone. I made my way to Walgreens, but before I could go inside, a voice called to me, "I say there sonny……what troubles you?"

I turned and saw a white-haired man seated on a lawn chair. Before him was a table covered with trinkets of all types, with a sign that read "The Master Will Solve Any Problem You Have". He held a long branch in his right hand, on top of which sat a raven. The bird squawked once, then turned to his owner.

"Yes, I can see he’s got a lot on his mind. What can I do for you my boy?" She spoke in a warm, fatherly tone with just a hint of an English accent. I was about to answer "Nothing", but there was something about that bird, something that looked right into my soul and said, "Tell him".

Pausing for a moment, I finally answered, "I received a notice in the mail today. Our class has senior photos tomorrow and just look at me."

The old man frowned, squinting, "Don’t see nothing much wrong with you, sure you’ve got the hormones going and perhaps you’ve feasted when I’d be better to fast, but that’s all my eyes see."

I lowered my head, he didn’t understand, "I need something to fix up my face by tomorrow. My mom recommended makeup, but I don’t think it’s gonna work".

The old man glanced at raven; it glanced behind the table and squawked. He reached behind and came up with a medium-sized vial.

"This’ll do the trick, on all accounts".

I read the side of the vial, "The Master of Chaos Theory’s Patented Miracle Makeup".

"Good for one-thousand years or two million uses, which ever comes first."

I looked at him for a second, then asked, "How much?"

"Ten bucks even". Wondering what I had to lose, I paid him the precise amount. "Excellent", he responded as I walked away, "I guarantee you won’t be disappointed with your purchase".

When I got home, I found a note taped to refrigerator door,

"Josh, I have to go to the firm on official business. I left dinner in the oven. I should be back my nine. Love, mom".

Sigh. I walked over to bathroom and eyed myself in the mirror, I looked ugly. Then, I thought, why do I have to wait until mom gets home…she showed me how to put makeup on. I smiled, opening the vial.

I looked inside, there seemed scarcely enough for ten application rather than the claimed two million. I laughed.

The makeup was pale in color and closely resembled my real flesh tone. Putting my hand into it, I came up with a gob and carefully dabbed it on my forehead. The effect was immediate.

I began rubbing the makeup into my skin and found the blemishes vanishing immediately, leaving behind smooth, clear flawless skin. Miracle’s right, wow!

Hesitating a moment, I took another gob and rubbed it against my temples. The skin cleared up there as well. I rubbed my hands together, this stuff was incredible.

I reached down for more, and then I noticed something strange about my hands. The nails, which I regularly kept trimmed short, jutted out more than an inch. I was amazed.

Not only that, but the fingers on which they grew had shrunk, along with my hand! I touched them carefully; they were as smooth as silk and about half the size of my original hands.

I also noticed another thing as I touched them; the minute hairs on my knuckles had vanished, leaving them completely hairless.

Trying to catch my breath, I wondered if the makeup was responsible. A crazy as it sounds; I did not run from the room right there and then. In fact, I felt a strange desire to apply more of the makeup, not only to my face but also to the rest of my body.

I reached for another gob; the used makeup had been mysteriously refilled when I wasn’t looking. I touched the makeup to my cheeks, rubbing it all over. The blemishes all vanished away, revealing a soft, flawless face.

More makeup. I massaged it into my hairy chin, lips, and any other part that hadn’t been touched. The effect was astounding. Like an eraser correction, the hair just vanished away, giving way to tight flawless skin. I reached for more.

I began washing my face with it, and casually touched my hair. I rubbed more of the makeup across it then, when the content that my head was done, I opened my eyes. A stranger stared back at me. A feminine stranger.

My blemished forehead----replace by a perfect one, soft, pale and smooth. My hairy features----made smooth as well as slender. My chapped lips----turned supple and pouty. My greasy black hair-----clean, fire engine red and hanging on my shoulders in a bob cut. My brown eyes-----changed to an emerald green that burned with sexual intensity. My overall look above the neck-----that of the sister I had never had.

I shook my head slowly, partly to confirm my suspicions, partly to shake them off. I stared again, not realizing I was unbuttoning my shirt. I only became aware of what was happening when I boxer shorts were off and I stood there in front of the mirror, completely naked.

My cock was rising; obviously intrigued by the attractive face I now possessed. Next, my hand reached over for another gob and rubbed it all over my arms. The hair on my arms vanished and the excess skin pulled tight, giving it a convincingly slender look. My arms now were proportional with my tiny hands by the rest of my body wasn’t.

My hands seemed to realize this, because they were going back for more. This time they took care of the sparse zits covering my back, making it slender as well. Then they rubbed the makeup over my chest.

My tits tingled and grew in circumference. They hardened and developed well-defined areolas. I reached down and tweaked them. Damn, they were sensitive. My cock, still rising, soon became thoroughly hard.

My hands added more makeup to my nipple area. The tissue surrounding my tits grew outward, like the aliens in the movie, as though they were trying to burst through my chest. Very quickly, I had breasts stuck out more than two inches. However, my hands weren’t done yet. They returned with more makeup and massaged it in.

Little electrical shocks struck my chest as my tits pushed out further. My hands caressed them. I gasped, unable to think of anything else than the feeling they generated.

My idle hands continued their work, smearing makeup on my large stomach. Instantly, it vanished, leaving behind a tight, concave belly like that of a fashion model. My hands then allowed me to check myself with the scale for a moment.

My previous weight of 178 pounds had been dramatically cut to only 115. I walked over to the mirror and saw the full impact of what had been done. My tits stood erect atop my firm, jutting breasts. I wasn’t into cup sizes, but I knew for sure they were larger than my mom’s 36C.

My hand returned to their duty and smoothed some makeup on my back, vanishing away the zits that were left there. They tightened my back giving me a better upright posture, which caused my breasts to display themselves even more prominently.

Another reload and they were covering my bum. It tightened as well and took on a slender, feminine shape. Hips went next, they curled outwards, giving me an overall pear form. My waist shrunk so much that even my new hands could encircle it easily, but my throbbing cock felt confined by my the smaller cavity.

My hands, passing over my manhood, went straight to my legs. They shrank in size and diameter, so that by the time they were done, the two of them pressed together were about the same size as one of my former legs. My feet, a size 9, became so tiny that I imagined them not much more than a size 4 or 5.

Realizing the rest of my body had been transformed, I gulped when my hand reached for a pleasant gob and descended upon the inside of my legs. The burning began quickly as soon as they rubbed the makeup on the head of my cock. The tip burned, receding out of sight.

My hand massaged the tiny remnant of my cock, which laid flat against my pelvis. Intense, orgasmic sensations flooded my body, growing even stronger the more they worked.

It was strange to feel arousal and not the hardening that accompanied it. My hands rubbed a new gob over my pelvis, this time concentrating on my lone balls. The very touch alone sent me into intense sexual excitement.

My balls constricted tight against my body as my skin had, only this time the skin containing them split into two distinct lips as they rose into my body. The lips became well defined and separated into a crevice that receding deep inside my body. A feminine mound soon developed, curling towards the center where rested the crevice. Two labia wings grew around my vagina

My balls found a home within my new uterus, forging the shape of two estrogen-producing ovaries. Even as the sensations inside of me quelled the process of menstruation was just beginning.

I found that I now had control of my body back. Using my hands, I carefully explored my body. Zits and weight were no longer a problem for me, how to get an erection, though, was. Just put one between my legs, I thought. An instead later I realized what I had just contemplated. Was this stuff changing my mental makeup? Was I now turned on by males and their throbbing, pumping, penetrating………well, I did have the equipment of the other half.

Equipment that received and milk their hard, hot, erotic………this presented some problems………like getting laid. With desires like this, I knew it was a definite possibility. I put one hand down to my new womanhood, pressing against my sensitive clit and entering my vagina with two fingers.

My back arched……my vagina began lubricating itself………well, you get the idea……I was getting turned on. I continued to explore the particulars of my new sex, bringing myself to orgasm a total of five times in one hour.

Sweaty and exhausted, I examined the consequences of what had just happened to me. Having to sit to pee and be careful around shifty men came to mind. The former of which called me at the moment.

I tried to relax, the reassuring feeling of my long and aimable penis absent. A few seconds later, nature took care of itself; a heavy stream emerged above my vagina, pouring into the bowel. When I was done, I wiped myself carefully. A vaginal infection last on the list of things I needed right now.

I stepped onto the scale. It read 108. Crap. Then I realized I only came up to the height of the towel rack. My heart skipped a beat. Running as fast as my unconfined breasts would allow, I made my way over the height marker my parents had used as I was growing up. The scale went as far as 6 feet, about where I was before. Now I barely made the 5 foot 4 mark. Tears filled my eyes. This was for real, the makeup for some inexplicable reason had changed me into a woman. A sexy-looking, horny woman, but a woman nonetheless.

Female. The word bit my throat; periods, hormones, and sex with consequences, bras, weight problems, second-citizen status and a hundred other things no man has ever known, followed it.

I had to find that old man……The Master of Chaos Theory……Maybe he could change me back. I paused for a moment, did I really want to change back?……yet, I mean. Touching my hands to my tits I flicked them back and forth for a moment and was met with a warm reciprocation in my crotch. Bringing it the right one up to my face, I began lick the nipple.

Very quickly, it was as hard as my former cock had been when aroused. In my crotch tingled and continued to lubricate, under the false suspicion it was about to receive a cock. Biting the nipple caused the other one to follow suit and firm up. My pussy contracted, preparing for it’s other to penetrate. Instead, I did the work of the dick and shoving my fingers up my pussy.

Using rhythmic motions, I quickly brought myself to climax again. Which is wild, let me tell you. Colors, strange sensations, the whole shebang. Merely an oscillation, say sex-less scientists, meant to efficiently deliver the sperm into the uterus. Whatever, it sure feels damn good.

Two orgasms later, I decided to deal with the situation at hand. I was female, possibly for good, and at the moment I was buck-naked as well; which is not a good thing if you wish to keep your virginity longer than it takes for a man can screw you.

Searching my mother’s room in my high state of arousal was not a very good idea either since the first thing I found was her vibrator. Naturally, I had to give it a whirl.

Three orgasms later, I finally decided that things were getting out of hand and I had to set it straight with the Master before I got knocked up.

First snag, I was right about my tits being larger than my mom’s were. Her 36C bra was way too small for me, but it was all I had on hand. Somehow, having seen my mother dress once, I was able to squeeze into the tiny thing. Unfortunately, it only served to make my cleavage that much more prominent.

The only panty that fit me was a thong stuffed at the bottom of the pile. The jeans were too tight in the hips, too long in the legs and too lose in the waist. Somehow, I was able to wear them.

The blouse I choose (being a femmy or masculine wasn’t a deal to me at that moment) expressed to the entire world that I was female, hugging the outlines of my undersized bra. As I looked in the mirror, there was no doubt in my mind my tits looked like to chestbursters. I wanted to either cry or masturbate myself to sleep, but instead I decided to walk down to Walgreens.

The sun hung low in the horizon, giving a golden tone everything around. But my mind was on something else, slapping the first male that watched my tits longer than could be excusable. Luck was with me though, because I didn’t run across any males, only two females, both of whom exchanged jealous looks with me and moved on

When I arrived at Walgreens, I was again in luck; the Master’s table was still set up. The old man was busy giving a brown tetherball to a small boy, "There you go Tommy, use that one tomorrow and you’ll never again have to worry about the girls picking on you for a being a boy".

The boy scampered away and the old man look at me, "Ah, lovely evening isn’t it Madame?"

I frowned and reached out my hands imploringly, "Master, this afternoon I bought a vial of makeup from you. When I used it, I was changed into this. Please help me."

The raven crowed angrily. The old man nodded and responded,

"Miss, I’m afraid you’re mistaken. I’m not the Master of Chaos Theory, he is". The old man gestured to the raven, which let out an appreciative squawk.

At this point, I didn’t care, "Whatever……can you please change me back into a boy?"

The old man put his finger to his lips, thinking, "You’re that boy that came in looking for something to cover up his acne. I don’t see what the problem is, the acne’s gone".

"The problem is I’m a different gender that when I woke up this morning. What I am I supposed to do about that?" The old man whispered to raven, it glanced at me momentarily then made quick sound.

"The Master says, ‘ make sure to get plenty of panties and always try to practice safe sex".

"What?" The raven glared at me then made another sound. The old man listened to this then said, "Additionally………your friend Karen knows what has happened and she will help you. With your body, the Master says ‘ you should make one hot model". Tell the bird to go stick its beak up its ass.

The old man smiled, but the Master was not amused.

Things went smoothly after that. Karen became my family. She filled in the gaps of what I needed to know about women. And the day of the photo shoot, I dazzled them so much I was recommended to a professional-modeling exhibition. The photographers were floored with me. My pose, my attractiveness, my innocence……everything was perfect.

As of last week, I’ve made more than half-a-million dollars in several major shoots. The sky’s the limit right now for me. But, that’s not enough, I wanted to tell my story……that’s where you come in……please tell others what has happened to me. I thank you, Mr. Andrews, for giving me the chance to tell my story. By the way……if you even happen to be in Davesport, and you chance upon a old man with a raven at a streetvender’s table be careful what you purchase from him……it just might change your life. Sincerely, Samantha."

Roger stared at the pages for a couple of moments, wondering if the postal service had accidentally sent this to him when it should have been mailed to Playboy. Picking up to papers he was about to toss them away when he had a second thought. Maybe. He filed them away in his desk for safekeeping. Just maybe.

The End

 

 

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