by Lyssa Fields
Part Two: Out in the World
"It's okay, hon', it's okay. Just calm down, we're here, we're at the doctor's."
Kathy was speaking softly in my ear and gently nudging my shoulders. I was startled, confused and sweaty and I felt stickiness in my panties, as if there'd been a huge explosion inside my underwear. I was dazed but Kathy stroked my forehead and I began to calm down.
"It's all right," she said tenderly. "That car that seemed to be following us turned off a little while ago and now I'm sure everything is going to be all right. Doctor Brennan is going to come to help you and then you're going to feel fine, just fine."
Kathy smiled at me, looking down as I shivered and shook spasmodically. I could remember vaguely her talking about a car that she thought was tailing us for awhile, but any worries that caused paled in comparison to my current state. I really wasn't in control of my body anymore, I was in a daze and hardly knew what I was doing. Thank God Kathy was there. I felt better again, seeing she was in control.
I realised I must have dozed off after Diane was sick by the side of the road. We'd all felt bad for her, as she threw up the ice cream, coffee and cake she'd eaten at the mall. She said she felt fine afterwards, it was just car sickness, but while she said it sweetly enough, she'd thrown me an evil glance. Diane seemed to be well on her way to becoming my mortal enemy, although as far as I could see I'd done nothing wrong. Maybe she sensed something was going to happen, even then. Maybe it was that.
"She's just jealous," Kathy said to me, under her breath so she couldn't be heard in the back seat, where Di and Shar were sitting quietly after we got back on the road. "She knows that with your pretty face and thin build, you're going to be a lot prettier than she is, once you become a complete woman. And sexier, too."
Kathy patted me again on the knee after she spoke, and hiked my skirt up again so she could see my new black panties. "I like to look at my girl, all the time, whenever I want," she said, smiling at me. "And you're my girl, honey bun, completely mine."
With that I smiled back at her and drifted off into a dreamy sleep. The hormone pills had definitely had a huge affect on me. My breasts not only were itchy but felt like they were bulging, even though when I looked down at my chest there was nothing to see except the falsies giving me a modest pair of boobs. But my body felt tingly and my stomach gurgled almost non-stop. Something was going on in there, something related to that complicated female plumbing I'd been reading about in the fashion magazine article. What was going on, I had no idea, but something was definitely happening, I thought as I drifted off.
As I slept, I dreamt at first about flowers and the pretty clothes at the mall and all the nice-smelling perfumes that I'd noticed briefly at one of the carts we'd passed on while walking around. I'd wanted to ask Kathy if I could try some of them, to find something more mature than the little girl flower scent she'd sprayed on me in the morning, but it was getting late and I could sense the other girls wanted to get going. Besides, I figured that Kathy must have something nicer at home and maybe if I was a good girl and didn't keep asking for too many things, she'd let me use a little when we got to her house. And then I really really hoped she'd arrange it so I moved in with her, from this first night. I could just imagine what it was going to be like, when she squeezed me in her arms and called me her little lambiekins and sweetie pie. I would let her do anything she wanted to me, I would be her total love slave. And in the morning I would bring her breakfast in bed, whatever she wanted. I was going to be her wife, her mistress, her servant, her girl, her woman. Kathy was my goddess and I would worship her for all time.
But even while my dream was filled with such happy thoughts, something dark began to intrude. I heard the sound of what seemed to be disco music and a male voice said to me something like "get on the pole, cunt". I felt cold, like I had almost no clothes on, and I could feel huge, pendulous weights hanging from my chest, with nothing supporting them, as I undulated my body in a dance routine around a shiny, metal pole on a raised dance floor.
Then something, hard and warm and fleshy rubbed up against my rear, while at the same time one hand covered my mouth so I couldn't speak and another hand grabbed onto the weights on my chest, which I realised were my enormous, naked boobs. In a flash, the huge, hard warm penis – because that's what it was – had found the opening in my legs – an opening where there'd never been one before! The huge cock thrust deep inside of me, all the way to my heart, maybe even further, to my brain. And it began to pump away, grinding inside me, causing a sensation of ecstasy that rippled through my entire body. I began to cry, but I also began to scream and then in a blinding instant my entire body arched in a spasm of intense pain and joy. I'd had my first female orgasm in a dream encounter with some huge, dark man whom I couldn't see, but whose cock was as big as Mike Tyson's.
"Is this our little girlfriend?," a male voice said, just outside the open car window, above my right shoulder.
I was startled to hear a man, and so close. Who was he and where had he come from? Out of instinctive modesty, I tried to reach my skirt to push it down, but I couldn't make the slightest movement, not even to turn my head to look at him. I was completely immobilised.
"Yes, this is our little Michelle, the girl I was telling you about on the phone."
Kathy, still sitting to my left at the steering wheel and stroking my sweaty forehead, spoke in a friendly, almost intimate voice to the man I'd never met, but whom I figured must be Dr. Brennan, the person Kathy had phoned from the mall. Yes, that's who it was. The gynecologist. My hormones were out of control and he was going to do something about it. Kathy had got me here just in the nick of time, like the perfect lover she was. I owed everything to her, everything. I wanted to kiss her and hug her, but I couldn't move.
"Kath, I think I'm going to have to carry Michelle into the consultation room," Brennan said, clearly on familiar terms with Kathy.
"You girls can sit in the waiting room, if you like, or you can go watch TV in my house across the lawn there," Brennan said to Di and Shar. He motioned towards a modest, white-stuccoed Tudor-style house just across a small lawn from his office, which was in a non-descript but typical suburban cinder block professional building. Very convenient for work and pleasure, and the shortest possible commute.
Sharon and Diane, accustomed to doing as they were told on this strangest of days, mumbled something about watching soap operas and eating everying in the fridge as they shuffled towards Brennan's house. He meanwhile prised me out of the car with his powerful arms and slung me over his shoulders, almost like a sack of potatoes.
"Not much fight left in her, is there?," he said to Kathy, chuckling softly as he opened the door to his deserted office and carried me inside. "Me, my the sweetie pie. Sugar and spice and everything nice – that's what little Michelle is made of."
I smiled involuntarily. Kathy and Brennan were obviously working together. I realised I might have those enormous boobs, and the slash between my legs that I'd dreamt about, sooner than I expected.
* * *
"Okay, sweetheart, let's have a look at you here," Brennan said to himself.
"Oh, you are a pretty one, you really are beautiful. I can see you going all the way, all the way. A real knockout babe."
As he spoke, Brennan gently laid me down on an examining table and turned on a bright, circular light extending from the wall on a flexible arm. Kathy had gone into a changing room to put on her nurse's uniform. She got a kick out of wearing it, and put it on as quickly as she could whenever she came to Brennan's office to play doctor and nurse with him. Kathy preferred girls, but she had a thing about doctors. She had a mad crush on Brennan and loved dressing up as a nurse for him as often as she could. Wearing the short, trim white uniform, with white stockings and white shoes was the only time she felt subservient to a male. When she dressed that way, she loved to do Brennan's bidding, but particularly she loved to get down on her knees and take his warm, stiff cock in her mouth. Nurses, she thought, should always be sure the doctor was relaxed and ready for emergencies. While Brennan gazed at me with intense interest, she slinked around in front of him and unzipped his pants. A minute or two later, Brennan was in ecstasy.
"Kathy, sweetheart, nurse dearie," he said when he collected his thoughts. "I need you to prepare young Michelle here for examination."
"Yes, doctor, immediately," Kathy said, hopping to it. He left the room for a moment while she quickly and efficiently stripped me, down to my panties and bra, and slipped a loose-fitting white robe over my shoulders until it stretched below my waist.
"You're going to be okay Michelle," she said reassuringly. "Dr Brennan is the best gyno in this whole area, so you have nothing to worry about. Absolutely nothing at all. And while you're waiting for him, I'll get the consent form that you need to sign. All it says is that you agree to have Dr Brennan take care of your gynecological needs and in the event of pregnancy he will be the first doctor you consult for your pre-natal and maternity checkups. It's just a standard form, absolutely normal, and every woman who comes signs one. I'll be back in a sec."
I couldn't imagine why Kathy was talking about pre-natal and maternity care but it didn't matter. When she came back I signed it. As it turned out, I'd signed my life away, but I only found that out a short time later.
"So how is our little girl today, feeling a bit woozy and dreamy?" Brennan smiled a big, toothy grin as he came back into the examination room, this time dressed in his doctor whites instead of street clothes.
"Nurse, would you please work up a chart for Ms. Michelle, noting on it that this is her first visit, that we are not going to do a pap smear but we may do a mammogram, depending on what I find in the physical examination." Brennan spoke to Kathy brusquely, efficiently, as if she were a professional colleague instead of his nurse lover.
"Yes, Doctor Brennan, right away," she said, beaming at him and clearly lapping it up. There were aspects of Kathy's personality that I'd barely suspected.
"Right, well, Michelle, let's get going here," Brennan said, pulling the robe up to my chest so my entire torso and lower body were exposed to his view. His soft but firm hands probed my chest, then worked their way across my midriff and finally moved to the nether areas. While he probed and examined, he dictated comments to Nurse Kathy.
"Breasts severely underdeveloped for female of this age category....hips likewise extremely underdeveloped....Signs of facial hair suggesting hormone imbalance, presence of testosterone..."
Kathy wrote it all down, even though as I listened I thought it must be a joke. If I'd had any energy I would have laughed. Of course I had no boobs or hips. I'm a guy, what do you expect, I thought. But Doctor Brennan and Nurse Kathy were taking this all deadly seriously. If I'd had any inclination to laugh, the serious expressions on their faces wiped it out of my head.
"Michelle, I'm sorry, but I need to ask you about your period. In your case, I guess it would be fair to ask if you actually have ever had your period, or even cramps suggesting that it might be coming? Is that the case – 18 and still no period?"
I didn't think I needed to answer, but in keeping with the serious tone of his questions, I managed to nod "yes".
"Just as I thought and, honestly, it's an extremely good thing that you've come in today, extremely fortunate. Waiting even a few weeks or even days longer might well result in a situation where you did not start menstruating until you are in your 20s – if at all, which I'm sure would be a devastating blow to any woman, let alone one as pretty and attractive as yourself."
I couldn't believe my ears and was wondering if I was in the hands of lunatics, but still feeling virtually immobile as I did, there was nothing I could do about it.
"Nurse, would you prepare the treatment, please," Brennan said to Kathy. She nodded and walked out of the examination room, closing the door behind her.
I had no idea what they had in mind, but I was becoming truly frightened.
"There, there," Brennan said, seeing the fear in my eyes and smiling and patting my forehead in an attempt to reassure me. It didn't succeed and he could tell, but he didn't seem to mind.
"So, Michelle, what we're going to do now is to put you on a fast-track for a sex change operation."
I couldn't believe he'd said that. "Agyhhh whuuurt?" I managed to mumble, lifting my head slightly from the table but then collapsing back for lack of energy.
"Oh, don't trouble yourself, there's absolutely nothing you can do about it. The huge dose of hormones you took today – on my instructions to Nurse Kathy – has immobilised you. Besides, you signed a consent form a few minutes ago which allows me to perform any gynecological procedures on you that I deem necessary. As your gynecologist, I think you need to have your female attributes reinforced immediately. Your male secondary sexual characteristics are truly worrisome and I intend to eradicate them completely, so you can become the woman you were meant to be.
"I intend to make you so girly and feminine that you will have men clawing and pawing you 24 hours a day, 365 days a year. You are about to become a babe, Michelle, a real babe. When I'm finished with you, you won't have a clue who you were, or even who you are, except you'll want to fuck men all the time, get their cocks in your mouth, love them to death and have as many babies as you can. Lots and lots of babies, so they can suck your titties and call 'mommy, mommy'. You're going to be a sexy, slutty baby-making machine, a Wonderwoman, a household Goddess to some lucky, stupid hunk of a man who admires a hot piece of ass and wants a woman to do everything for him. A macho guy, with his total girl.
"So goodbye, Martin. Hello,Michelle." With that Brennan jabbed a needle in my arm. I drifted off into a deep sleep, but before I did I could hear some last words of Brennan's, echoing in my ear.
"You're mine, now, Michelle, all mine. Kathy too. You both belong to me. You are my lesbian slut love slaves. And you're going to love it, just love it...Looove iiiit, you slutty cunts. Looovee iiitt – and make money for me too. Lots and lots of money, just for me. All for me."
The next few days – if that's what the time period actually was – were like a blur. Mostly I slept, a deep, dark dreamless sleep. It was as if my brain was clamped in a vise, or covered in a dark shroud. I felt like something else controlled my brain, and at the same time, when I made an effort, I could see nothing in the all-consuming darkness of my sleep. The longer it went on, the less I struggled. Eventually, I knew, I would succumb to the darkness, embrace it, even love it.
And then there were moments when my eyes suddenly opened, as if of their own accord. I did not seem to control them, it simply happened. And what I could see was that I was lying on a hospital-style bed, in a windowless room, my legs and arms strapped down with thick, wide binders, like you might see in a mental institution, plus a similar strap across my midsection. I was totally immobile, although I could still freely move my head. What I could see was that I was hooked up to a battery of intravenous drips, at least half a dozen of them, all flowing into different parts of my body. I assumed one of them, at least, must be glucose, to provide nourishment, but I had no idea what the others were. But then, it wasn't hard to guess. Because when I lifted my head I could see two mounds on my chest, pushing up under the white hospital gown. Something that was going into my body was making me grow breasts, and fast. I could also hear my stomach and innards gurgling like mad, making all kinds of rumbling sounds, like there was a factory at work in there. And when I lifted my head as high as I could off the pillow, I saw something even more alarming. There was a big, round bulge in the vicinity of my abdomen. It looked like I was six or seven months pregnant. The sight of it made me so frightened, I gasped out loud, and fainted.
The next time I woke up, Dr. Brennan was standing at my bedside, taking my pulse. Nurse Kathy – that's how I thought of her, now that she'd betrayed me – was standing at his side, holding a clipboard. She looked at him dotingly, like a dog at its master, ignoring me pretty much entirely. So much for lasting love. The dyke had jilted me, like a bitch in heat.
"Hi there, Michelle, or shall we call you Mimi? Nurse here tells me that when you two were briefly going with each other, she sometimes called you that. Is that right, Mimi? Did she use that name for you? You need to tell me, you know, because you can't have any secrets from me. Not any. I am the most important person in your life right now, and you have to learn to trust and obey me. Because I am your master, now, Mimi, do you understand? I am your father and your protector and also your owner. You belong to me, totally, completely. You belong to me, just like a race horse or a pretty pony. You are a pony now, aren't you, Mimi? You feel just like a pony, and you'd love to prance for your master, wouldn't you? Wouldn't you, Mimi?"
As the tirade went on, Dr Brennan moved his face closer and closer to mine, until in the end his chin was just above mine, and I could smell the onions on his breath and the wine he'd had, probably for lunch. For no rational reason at all, but just because I had to, I started to cry.
"There, there, Mimi, my little pony, my little girl," Brennan said, his tone softening as he started to pat my head. He pushed some locks away from my eyes. I could feel as he did so that I seemed to have a lot more hair on my head than I could recall from previously, even with the wig. As he stroked my forehead, I began to relax. My daddy wasn't cross with me anymore. I was feeling better now that daddy was happy with his little girl again. I wanted to be a good girl for daddy, I would do anything daddy wanted me to do. I was daddy's girl, daddy's girl forever.
Brennan smiled as he saw the changes in my mood mirrored in my eyes and face.
"That's a good, good girl, Mimi. Good, good girl. And because you've been a good girl for daddy and nurse, Nurse Kathy is going to put on the 24-hour 'My Little Pony' channel for you, on the television, before we go. Isn't that a treat, for the little girliekins? Isn't Mimi a happy, happy pony now?"
I wanted to say "oh, goody" and clap my hands in joy, but suddenly after the energy I'd used crying and sobbing, I found I had nothing left.
"Relax, don't worry, it's normal that you should feel too tired to move. You don't need to say or do anything, but just so you have a little idea of what's going on, you are on intensive drip feeds of five differents estrogens and other female hormones, which have halted and reversed all further male sexual development while allowing you to make major advances in developing your female sexual characteristics.
"I know you can't see yourself in the present circumstances" – Brennan glanced briefly at the straps binding me firmly to the bed, and then looked back at me with what I took be a gloating grin – "but let me assure you that this emergency intervention we agreed to perform during your consultation is having excellent effects."
I couldn't recall having agreed to anything, but it didn't seem to matter what I thought or said. Everything was being done for me, whether I wanted it or not.
"The skin over at least 90 percent of your body is now feminine, translucent and soft. In fact, your skin is prettier than that of most women, and many would kill to have the pale, clear colour of your cheeks," Brennan said, stroking them as he said so with the back of his hand.
"Your breasts are coming along nicely. I would say that at this point you have a 'B' cup for your right breast, while the left is just slightly smaller. The aureoles of the nipples have fully flowered, which means that whenever you wear a silky bra or blouse, your nipples will be prominent and provocative. They also will be extremely sensitive and you may find that even a moderate amount of sucking or fondling of them causes you to reach orgasm."
Kathy was taking notes on her clipboard the whole time, barely looking at me, but glancing at Brennan from time to time with stars in her eyes. The bitch. She had totally sold me down the river. But for what? I still did not know what was really going on here. I was not sure that she did either.
"Now, you may wonder why your abdomen has swollen up." I would have asked that question at the start, but my mind wasn't making connections too well and my tongue didn't seem to be connected to my brain anyway. I felt much the same way I had felt with Kathy, in the shopping mall. I no longer had any will of my own. I'd leave the driving to them.
"Your body has reacted, unusually, I might add, for a genetic male, by having a full-blown sympathetic pregnancy. This is due to the high doses of hormones you are taking, but unfortunately it does not seem to be levelling off as I'd hoped. There seems to be something in your genes that pre-disposes your body to accepting and using the estrogens and other female hormones extremely efficiently. In fact, I have never seen a transformation work so fast."
As Brennan spoke these last words, he gazed at me with what I thought was a look of true admiration and appreciation. Great, I thought. So I was a natural for this.
"These kinds of pregnancies are, of course, not real," he continued. "I mean, there's no way there could be a foetus in there – not yet, in any case," he said with a big laugh. Kathy got the hint that she was meant to laugh too and started to giggle in a way that I thought was demeaning. "Oh, doctor," she simpered. "You are a scream."
She was really gone for this guy. Where was my goddess? Where was my smart cookie lover woman? Just another ditz fallen head over heels with a hunk in a white suit.
"But in any event, the progress of this sympathetic pregnancy is a bit unusual, a bit more extreme," Brennan continued, while Kathy regained her stern bedside manner with me. "In other words, to get to the point, you may actually experience a false labour and, unless I am mistaken, you may also begin to lactate."
"You mean I might start giving breast milk?," I said, managing to find some energy I didn't know I had. "What the hell are you guys doing to me, anyway? I mean, is this for real?"
"Now stop that, stop that right now, Michelle," Brennan said sternly. "This is not a simple procedure we're going here. In the end, you are going to be a fully functioning female in every respect, so the fact you are having a false pregnancy and may start lactating now is not such a big deal. Besides, I think I've told you quite enough of what is going on and I do not like your fresh attitude. You need to show more respect to someone who is helping you to become the person you were meant to be – to become someone who will be like a daughter to me. Do you understand me. Do you get my meaning?"
"Yes, daddy," I managed, suddenly feeling weak, tingly, woozy and itchy all over, especially on my breasts. It may have been psychosomatic, but now that Brennan had mentioned the possibility I might lactate, I felt like the breasts I still had not seen, and could not even touch, were going to explode.
"Nurse, please give Ms. Michelle a strong sedative and turn on the 'My Little Pony' channel for her," Brennan said, leaning down to kiss me on the forehead. As I looked at his lovely but stern blue eyes, I realized I loved him, I loved what he was doing for me. He was helping me to become the woman I'd always been meant to be.
"Thank you daddy, thank you so much, for everything," I said as I heard the theme music for the "My Little Pony" cartoons come up on the television. "Mimi is going to be a good little girl and watch her little cartoony-woonies, with all the pretty pink ponies and the lovely, pretty hearts and kisses."
"Good girl, Mimi, that's a good girl. Sweet dreams, my little baby girl, sweet dreams."
After Brennan left the room, Nurse Kathy walked over and reached under my hospital gown to feel my breasts. As she fondled the nipple on my right breast, I felt a strong, sexy, tingling sensation that shot through my entire body. I gasped involuntarily and closed my eyes, feeling intense pleasure.
"Yah girl, yah," she said, in the mocking tone of the construction worker. "Yo, mamma" – and she laughed long and hard as she left the room, leaving me in the pink haze of Ponyland. A few minutes later she was back.
"Open your mouth, lambiekins," she said. "Open your pretty, red lips for nursie."
I didn't know whether to trust her or not, but figured there was no point in resisting. When I opened my mouth, she thrust a baby bottle of warm milk between my lips and with her left hand, forced my mouth closed, which caused a big dose of the warm, sweet formula to spurt into my mouth. I wanted to spit it out, to push the demeaning bottle out of my mouth, but it tasted warm and delicious. I actually enjoyed it.
"I thought so," she said, arching her black eyebrows and smirking at me. "Enjoy the bottle, and the 'My Little Ponies'," she said as she left the room.
I drifted off to slumberland to the sound of sweetly singing ponies, and the wonderful taste of warm baby formula. This was my life, I thought, this was me.
The next time I awoke, Nurse Kathy was by my side, stroking my forehead.
"How's our little girliekins?," she said, regarding me with what seemed like genuine affection. "How does our pony girl Mimi feel today?"
I tried to answer, but somehow no words would come. Only a gurgling sound, after which I felt hunger pangs in my stomach so powerful they made me cry.
"There, there, little lambiekins. Nursey has a nice warm bottle for you, but first we're going to try some of this solid food."
As she spoke, Nurse Kathy pushed a moveable hospital tray in front of me, upon which was a small, unbreakable pink plastic bowl filled with porridge or cream of wheat. As I looked around, I noticed my hands were no longer bound to the bed, and she had propped me into an almost upright position. The battery of drips was nowhere to be seen and my clothes were different. I was dressed in some adult-sized version of a bright yellow, snap-on, all-in-one sleeper that a baby would wear. Only this baby, I could see, looking at my chest, had two enormous mounds pushing up under the cuddly cotton bunny suit. And oh, did they ache.
Kathy kept the smile plastered to her face while she tied a bright pink and yellow bib around my neck.
"Babykins is a messy-wessykins," Kathy said, in a cooing, mothering tone of voice. "Now open wide for nursey." With that, she wedged a spoonful of warm, sweet porridge into my mouth. I tried to shake my head from side to side, for no reason, but with her practiced hand Kathy had the spoon far enough inside so nothing spilled.
"That's a good girl, that's a good babykins," she said, in the same tone, continuing to spoon the porridge into my mouth until it was finished.
"All gone," she cooed to me, her face brightening. "Mimi was a good girl today for nursey and ate all her yummie-yummiekins cereal. So now Mimi can have her bottle and go nighty-night. Can Mimi hold the bottle herself, in her pretty little hands?"
Involuntarily, I could feel myself reaching to Kathy, who pulled the bottle out of a small warmer on the floor behind her. She helped guide it to my mouth. The minute it touched my lips, I began sucking down the sweet formula like my life depended on it. With each suck I felt sleepier and sleepier, and my eyelids started to droop. I began to stare at a mobile of brightly coloured birds, hanging from an arm extending from the wall to a spot just above my head. Kathy looked at me fondly again as she placed a pink, plastic pony at one side of my head, and a ballerina doll in a tutu on the other.
Just as I nodded off, I could hear Kathy singing gently by my side.
Baa, baa, black sheep,
Have you any wool?
Yes sir, yes sir,
Three bags full;
One for my master,
One for my dame,
And one for the little boy
That lives in our lane.
Before she reached the end, I was fast asleep, untroubled even by the trickle of pee filling the big, overnight diaper securely fastened inside my bunny sleeper. Dr. Brennan, with the help of Nurse Kathy, was forcing me to regress to an infant state, to bring me forward again into the full flower of womanhood. It was an extremely odd state of affairs. At that particular moment in the process, I was like a two or three-year-old baby girl who just happened to have enormous, luscious breasts. But still no vagina. Even in its increasingly vestigial state, shrinking due to the massive doses I'd taken of estrogens and other hormones, which were probably mixed in my food, I could feel I still had a prick. And sometimes, when I thought of what I must look like, with my huge, pendulous breasts and creamy skin, I got a hard on.
* * *
"Psst, Michelle – I mean Martin."
A woman's voice was calling me urgently, from nearby in the darkness. Startled out of my sleep, and with the wet, cold diaper chafing my bottom, I was about to cry, until a gentle hand covered my mouth.
"Don't cry, don't be afraid," the voice, which I thought I recognised, said. "It's Sharon, and I've come to help you – I'm here to rescue you."
In my current dreamy, feminised, infantilised state, I hardly understood what she was saying. But I did find that I could say a word or two.
"Save....what save?...Shar....you Shar? Mimi like Shar....Hi, Shar....play? Dolly play?"
"No, no, that's okay, Mimi. That's okay. What we have to do is get you out of here...and fast. But first let's have a look at you."
She pulled down the sheet and turned on a bedside light. The minute the light filled the room, she gasped.
"Oh, my God," she said. "Oh my GOD!!! What have they done to you? What have they done? This is incredible. Completely incredible."
As I looked at her with a quizzical gaze, like a doe in a children's zoo, she started to cry. She plopped down, in despair, at the foot of my bed and her crying intensified everytime she looked at me. I could see her looking at my head, which I knew from feeling with my hands was covered with thick, luxurious blonde hair. Looking at my chest she could see the enormous boobs pushing up under my sleeper, and as her gaze continued downwards, she could see I now had wide hips and a plump, round bottom.
To me, my appearance was beginning to feel natural and normal, but I felt for Sharon. I didn't want her to cry, I didn't want her to feel bad. I wanted to hug and kiss her, and make her feel better. I wanted her to smile and giggle, and be happy, the way I was when Doctor B and Nursey came to see me. That was when I was happiest, especially when Doctor B played with my hooters and told me what a good girl Mimi was, and how I was going to make so many men happy. Nursey would smile at me too and we were all happy together, even though occasionally they stuck a big bad needle in my arm, to take blood samples, or to give me injections – what they called my "girly juice". That always made me cry, until they gave me a lollipop or put on the "My Little Pony" channel.
But now Shar was looking at me and crying at the foot of my bed and it made me feel bad. So I picked up the little pink pony and the ballerina and I crept down the bed to sit beside her. As I did so, the big hooters popped the buttons on my bunny suit and bounced out. I thought that would make Shar laugh, like it made Nursey and Dr. B laugh when they changed my diaper and bunny suit. That was when they would play with my hooters and sometimes even suck on them. Dr. B said it was to get the bad white stuff out and I was so happy when he did that, because they didn't hurt so much afterwards. I thought maybe Shar would like to do the same.
I sat on the foot of the bed next to her, handed her the pony and the doll, and turned my enormous, lactating breasts towards her, beaming at her as I did so.
"Suck?" I said, in the girlish voice I seemed to have developed in the last few days. It was a slightly husky voice, but it also sounded sultry and vixeny. I didn't realise it then, but men were going to go mad for that voice. It was deeper than most women's, but breathy and sulky enough to disarm even the most hardened case.
Sharon didn't respond to my offer, but went off on another tack entirely.
"Oh, you poor, poor thing, you," she said, stroking my cheek with the back of one hand and wiping the tears from her face with the other. "If I'd only known...if I'd only realized sooner..."
I sat there, still looking at her like an innocent animal, my two enormous boobs barely covered by the sleeper. I wished she would suck on them. It would make her feel better, and me too. But for some reason, I stayed motionless. Something inside made me be still, put a lid on the giddiness, lightheadedness and dreaminess I'd been feeling recently. I was trying to sense what Sharon wanted from me. It was her move.
What happened then shocked me more than anything I could have expected. Without a word, Sharon pulled herself to her full height on the bed, pivoted and kissed me passionately on the lips. At the same time, she embraced me and pushed me slowly, gently to the bed, so I was lying on my back and she was on top of me.
With her left hand, she stroked my forehead, pushing the huge tangle of blonde hair out of the way. With her right, she felt under the bunny suit until she reached the big, clammy wet diaper. With two yanks, she detached the adhesives holding it in place, pulled it out and threw it on the floor, where it made a squishy sound.
Then her hand groped around until it connected with my shrinking, almost non-existent penis, the skin of which was incredibly raw from contact night after night with the wet diaper. Nurse Kathy put talc there everytime she changed me, but wearing a wet diaper overnight had taken its toll.
"Ooooh, Martin, we've got to do this – there's just one chance and we've got to do it now," Sharon said. As she spoke, she exhaled her warm, scented breath in my ear. Somehow, against all odds, she made me have an erection.
"That's it, Martin, that's right," she said, feeling my miniscule cock get harder and hotter as she carefully stroked it, expertly avoiding any of the raw spots caused by the diaper rash. "Now, you put your hand here..."
She maneuvered my right hand so my forefinger touched her clitoris. Instinctively, I started to stroke it, moving in a circular motion. Her body arched in passion.
"Now, Martin, now." If anyone had asked me what I was doing, I wouldn't have been able to say, but at her command, I managed to pop the mini-spear of my penis into her hot, wet vagina. The tiny member pushed inside of her, as far as it would go. And again. And again. Less than a minute later, I felt like all the blood in my body was rushing to my head – and to my penis. It exploded in a flash of fireworks and sparks.
I came inside Sharon, with all my being. The last sperm in my body – the very last, as it turned out – shot as far inside her as it could go. Sharon erupted with a squeal of pleasure and pain. We came together, with the ecstasy of a man and a woman making love. For her, it was a thrilling, memorable if bizarre moment, feeling the small cock in her vagina, my big, pendulous boobs rubbing against her almost equally large ones, and my long blonde tresses tickling her face.
For me, it was the one and only time I had sex as a man.
"What condition is he in?"
Diane posed the question as Sharon opened the door of the red Mustang, parked in the dark shadows of the early morning, down the street from Brennan's office. She sat down, without a word, in the passenger seat, looking not at Diane, who from nervousness was fingering the heart-patterned "mood ring" she was wearing, but through the window, into the darkness. All she could do was shake her head. She couldn't find the words to describe the situation, although "hopeless" did occur to her.
The car was Kathy's, the famous Mustang the girls had used for the shopping trip. At the end of that memorable day, after Martin/Michelle's examination, Kathy had turned the car over to Diane so she and Sharon could get back to Bakerstown – to look after it while she helped Brennan with his project, to change me into a bimbo.
"When you get back, you can tell people that Martin and I eloped and left the state. We didn't take the car because we didn't want to be traced," Kathy said, trying to come up with a scenario that seemed at least slightly plausible.
That was more than a month ago. The phony story of the elopement had caused great anguish in Bakerstown. My parents and Kathy's mother were shocked and at first refused to believe it. But Kathy and I were both 18, which meant we were within our rights to leave home. And as the weeks wore on, and there was no news of either of us, our parents, and the other residents of Bakerstown began to accept that perhaps two star students had decided to get an early start of life. Some figured that with our brains and looks, we could go far.
Little did they know that we'd gotten only as far as Brennan's office, outside of town, and that our real traveling, into the world of international call girl rackets and prostitution rings, was still in the future. Of course, neither Kathy nor I had any clue of that either. That's to say, I hardly knew anything, except sometimes my name, that my breasts itched all the time and were really huge, and that I thought the "My Little Pony" show was the neatest thing ever. I could watch it all day and all night long, which is what I did, sucking on my bottle at first and then moving on to solid food while wearing pinafores and jumpers as Brennan worked me back through the stages of childhood and growing up, only this time as a girl.
Kathy, infatuated with Brennan, didn't suspect anything either. She worked her tail off for him every day, serving as nurse and receptionist, after Brennan dismissed his usual receptionist in order to reduce the chances of his project being discovered. "He is a great, great man, perhaps the greatest," Kathy would tell herself as she did everything from sending out the bills to cooking Brennan's meals for him, cleaning the house and doing the laundry. At night she dressed up in sexy nighties to please him. For her super man, the man-hating Kathy had become a total woman. She was head over heels, and was even dreaming that someday wedding bells would chime, and soon after there'd be little Brennans for her to nurse and take care of.
But Sharon and Diane, while they kept their secret about where Kathy and I were staying, became increasingly nervous as the weeks went on, when they had no word from either of us. They resolved after a month that it had gone on long enough and they had to at least get me out of there – Kathy having made her own bed, so to speak.
The two of them plotted to drive to Brennan's in the dead of night and break into the office, where I was living in a back room, through one of the rear doors. With the aid of a set of skeleton keys Sharon, a good athlete in any event, had made it easily enough to my room – and my bed – but there the mission came to an end.
Their good intentions foundered on the rock of reality.
"So it's too late, is it?" Diane said after a minute or two, picking up on Sharon's mood.
"Totally," Sharon managed to say at last, getting a grip on herself. "I mean, apart from the fact she still has a penis, Michelle has the most beautiful body I've ever seen – she's some kind of Venus or rock star pinup, like Christina Aguilera. She's such a babe even girls would drool over her. She's got boobs to die for – boobs even I would die for and as you know I'm not lacking in that department. It's...it's just incredible...incredible."
Sharon's voice tailed off. Diane, a practical person who, once she started something, was determined to finish it, caught on that the rescue mission had hit a stone wall.
"Right, then. Do we report it to the police? Do we tell their parents? Or do we just leave it? Those are the choices we've got," she said, assessing the situation.
"Leave it....leave it. It's too far gone. And there's nothing we can do, nothing."
"Okay, time to go," Diane said, turning the key in the ignition. The Mustang's V-8 rumbled into action. "Truth be told, I never liked Martin much anyway – too intellectual, too standoffish for me. And as for Kathy, she's made her choice, so let her live with it."
Diane backed up the car. Still preoccupied by the failure of the rescue mission and what was happening to Kathy and Michelle/Martin, she pulled out into what she assumed was a deserted street without looking.
Diane didn't see the big delivery truck tearing down the street with its lights off. She never saw anything ever again
"Nurse, turn up the anaesthetic gas NOW!"
Dr. Brennan was almost screaming at Nurse Kathy, whom I could see under the harsh light of the examination room – now kitted out as an operating theater – was near tears but was too petrified with fear to let Brennan see. As I looked up at her from the operating table – really the examination bed, serving a dual purpose – I felt sorry for her. If I could have risen from the table, I would have loved to hug and kiss her, maybe let her suck on one of my aching breasts if she wanted. That's how it was with me these days, I just wanted to love everyone and everything, and make people happy and at ease – just like the ponies in Poneyland in the television show I watched day after day. I wanted to love Kathy, to stop her fear. Then the lights went out.
"There, at last. She's under. Nurse, another misstep like that and you're in trouble, really serious trouble."
Brennan's tone with Kathy had changed entirely. He was furious that she'd fumbled while trying to hook up the anaesthetic gas to the facial respirator. As far as he was concerned, she was just another health worker, an employee, a cog in his grand scheme. She was going to be a nurse today, assisting with critical chores in the sex change operation he was about to perform. When that was over, he had other plans for her.
Kathy was expendable, but valuable. Very valuable. A smile crossed Brennan's lips. It was a smile arising from the fact that things were going very well for him – almost too well – and because he knew he was close to making his fortune, a seriously big fortune. If everything worked according to plan, Dr. Brennan was about to be on easy street. He'd pick and choose when he wanted to work, and who he wanted to work for. Only the finest, high society or well-heeled transexuals need apply to him for their operations. And for those operations he agreed to perform, he might well demand a few favours in return. To sample the wares, so to speak. After all, he would be turning his patients into top-notch, super deluxe females.
If he did his work properly, and by that he meant the mental conditioning that went with feminising someone, then they should be hot to trot, once all their bits were in place and healed. Brennan could see himself flying around the country, from one little love nest to another. They'd love it, he thought. It would give them a chance to cheat on their husbands or lovers, get away from the humdrum. Feel what it was like to be a hot babe, living on the edge of the volcano.
Brennan licked his lips and felt his prick getting hard. Then he looked at me, lying there, unconscious and completely at his mercy, with my luscious breasts and sleek hips exposed, naked, on the operating table. Brennan wished the clit was already there, so he could take advantage of me the way he fully intended to once the operation was over. But unfortunately, there was still the matter of that little penis still in the way. "Gotta get rid of that john peter now, get rid of it forever," Brennan thought, sneering at the tiny member which was all that stood between me and womanhood. "Time to do the deed – and do it now."
"Nurse – scalpel," Brennan said, coldly, without emotion. Nurse Kathy hopped to it. She realised she was not in command here, that she was hanging on by a thread. She didn't realize yet that she had already fallen over the abyss, though it had dawned on her that she was living in a twilight zone, somewhere between reality and fantasy, probably closer to the latter.
That was driven home earlier when she and Brennan, sleeping in his house beside the office, were interrupted in their night-long lovemaking by a huge crash and the sound of screams, broken glass and crunching metal from the street outside. Kathy, like every night, had Brennan's cock in her mouth and was carefully, delicately massaging it with her tongue, so he could retain his erection for the maximum time possible before ejaculating. Brennan insisted she perform oral sex for him at least three or four times a night, and he would not allow her to lie down – at the foot of the bed – until he was satisfied. When he did come, he demanded that she swallow all his cum immediately, and lick whatever remained from his still-tumescent cock. "You will love the feel of me and the taste of me in your mouth,", he said. Sometimes he would force her to perform fellatio on him while he was wearing a condom, and he would make her drink the ejaculate from the night before with her morning coffee.
She never complained, not once.
"You see, even though you are a dyke, you can be a man-loving lesbo when the right man comes along," Brennan said to her one day. Kathy realized he was right, that he now commanded her body, soul and mind, much like she thought she once controlled Michelle. It seemed like ages ago now, ages since she controlled anything.
She was now on one of the lowest rungs of the ladder of humanity. She'd betrayed a friend – meaning me – and she was in turn being betrayed, all the while having neither the will nor the strength of character to do anything about it. When she reached the lowermost ebb of her depression, Kathy would lie on the floor of the bedroom and insert an oversize battery-powered dildo in her vagina. She only did it if Brennan was there to watch. She wanted to feel as degraded as possible and with the dildo, and the morning doses of cold, sticky cum, she succeeded.
But she had to put that out of her mind, and put on her working cap, after the bizarre and frightening accident in the street outside the office. Bizarre because when she and Brennan quickly threw on their coats and raced out to the crash scene, Kathy was horrified to find her car smashed almost beyond recognition. Diane, already dead from head injuries, and Sharon, battered but very much alive, were trapped inside.
Frightening because when she and Brennan went to check on the driver of the delivery van, whose front cab was completely smashed in, there was no one there, and no sign of any blood. Nor was there anyone around on the street, no witnesses, no bystanders, no driver. It was as if a ghost had been at wheel of the truck, or it was driven by remote control. And the ghost, or phantom driver, had vanished.
* * *
The police and ambulances had soon arrived, taking charge of the accident scene and trying to make sense of what had happened. No one could figure out at first how the truck had managed to reach a speed high enough to do so much damage with no driver at the wheel. The best explanation anyone could come up with was that the truck must have started at the very top of the hill leading past Dr Brennan's office and somehow managed to keep going in a straight line, missing all the other parked cars along the way, until it rammed into the Mustang and killed Diane.
"Chance in a million – strike that – billion," Lieutenant Sean Weeks of the Pennsylvania State Police said, scratching his head as he looked up and down the hill, trying to figure out how the truck reached the place where it crashed into the Mustang.
Brennan was stunned at first, and sympathetic, but he also saw that an opportunity had landed in his lap. Diane – a full-bodied, fully-sexed, red-blooded female had been killed in the crash. Her still-warm body, with the sexual organs he needed so desperately for his ground-breaking sex change, were right there in front of him, intact and ready for a transplant. Brennan approached the ambulance crew, proposing to make a deal.
"Rodriguez – is that the name, Umberto Rodriguez?" Brennan said, reading the name tag of the chief ambulance driver. Rodriguez nodded. He was leaning with his back on the second ambulance, after the first one had rushed Sharon to the emergency room at Bakerstown Hospital. What Rodriguez faced now was a long and tedious drive to the County Hospital about 40 miles away, to deposit Diane's lifeless body in the county morgue. It was something he did not want to be doing, well after two in the morning. Brennan figured as much, and saw an opportunity.
"I know it's late," Brennan said, using his most professional, neutral but friendly tone. "And it's a long drive to the morgue. But I've got a big blood and plasma cold-storage in my office and I wonder if you'd like me to keep the body for you, at least overnight.. Save you the trip and no problem for me. Besides, I once met the girl and I would feel better for her – and for her poor parents – if she wasn't stuck in the land of the anonymous stiffs on this, her first night away from the living."
Rodriguez, a sentimental as well as practical man, didn't hesitate. And that was how it happened that Brennan suddenly, out of the blue but at just the right time, had the resources to complete his masterpiece: "The Making of Michelle."
* * *
"Clamp...suture...clamp...sponge." It took six hours, but well before noon, Brennan could pull off his surgical mask and relax. I was still lying there, comatose and insensate, looking much as I had before the operation, but with the difference now that much of my lower abdomen and groin was swathed in bandages. The risk of infection was over, so Brennan pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit up. He didn't bother to offer one to Nurse Kathy. She'd performed her task efficiently if somewhat clumsily, but there was no point in reprimanding her, or rewarding her. There was another role in store for her soon, another twist to the plot. And Brennan was looking forward to it. Kathy had been a bit of a know-it-all, a bit uppity. She was about to learn about another side of life entirely.
Meanwhile, he had put her to work dealing with one of the last, final odd twists of this extremely unusual night. It was a night which, Brennan thought, if he were to play it back in his head, must have been filled with all kinds of portents, like those scenes whenever the three "weird sisters" showed up in Macbeth. This time, the oddest one of all had come just before he'd started the sex change operation. A phone call had come in to the private, unlisted line in the examination room, now serving as the operating room. Startled to receive a call on the line, which Brennan kept so that he could attend to urgent matters whenever he was having a private, extra-hours session with one of his married patients, he picked up the receiver with foreboding.
At first all he could hear was beeping, like the tones on an answering machine. Brennan said "hello" several times, but the beeping just continued until after about 20 seconds, an electronic voice came on the line.
"Dr Brennan, this is a recording," the voice said. "I know what you are about to do, and why you are going to do it. You know tampering with a corpse could result in severe disciplinary action, even losing your licence to practice medicine."
Brennan gasped. How could anyone know? As far as he could tell, only he, Kathy and Martin/Michelle could be aware of what he was doing, and he was pretty sure that in her present state, Mimi didn't have too much of a clue.
"But I will take steps to be sure this does not happen, to be sure the procedure you are about to perform is not thwarted, on one condition," the voice went on, without a pause.
"You must save the penis and testicles you are about to remove. You must keep them intact and keep them in the appropriate storage, so they will not deteriorate. If you do this, and do it successfully, it will be arranged so the authorities will not look too closely at Diane's body. In addition, $100,000 will be transferred to your bank acount this very day. Your account number, at Bakerstown National, is X7-99358-002. The money is set for timed release into your acccount about nine hours from now, which gives you ample time to complete the operation."
Brennan suddenly liked this intrusion a lot more. That was a shitload of money. He could barely imagine what it could buy him in the black market trade in internal organs from Asia and the Near East. Enough for dozens of sex changes, he figured.
"The organs removed from Martin/Michelle must be taken, in a safe storage container, to a safe deposit box at the same bank and left there no later than noon today. Otherwise you will not receive the money, and the appropriate authorities will be alerted not only to your tampering with the corpse, but also to your kidnapping and completely unethical chemical and biological experiments on Martin.
"Now get back to work and perform the best operation you've ever performed. Everything – but particularly your future – is hanging in the balance."
With that, the line went dead. Brennan realized that even if he'd had second thoughts, there was now no turning back. Someone out there knew what he was up to, knew everything. And that someone – whoever it might be – appeared to be capable of murder.
He mulled that as he took a last puff on his cigarette, then snubbed it out on a pile of bloodied surgical bandages. I'm into some very deep shit here, Brennan thought to himself. Very deep indeed. But, as the saying goes, you make your choices in life and then you've got to stick to them. Speaking of which...
He looked at his watch and realized the time.
"Nurse," he said in his coldest, most peremptory tone. "Have you packed the organs away in that portable container, like I asked you do ages ago? Have you, nurse?"
Kathy., weary from a night of work, not to mention the hours of sex that preceded it, barely managed to squeak out a feeble "yes".
"Fine, fine, you wheel Mimi here back to her room and give her a sedative and sit with her, in case she's in any pain. I have to make a trip into town, down to the bank. But when I get back, I think it will be a good time to relax. Yes, maybe I'll even get a bottle of champagne. And while I drink it, I'll let you have a really big taste of my delicious, warm cum."
Brennan laughed as he picked up the safe-cold container, the same as those used to transport donor organs, and headed out the door. Kathy watched him leave, her jaw drooping. If it weren't for poor Michelle, she'd split immedately. But now, she felt a strong bond with me, an unbreakable tie. Kathy had realized that she and I were soulmates, soul sisters. In an utterly bizarre twist, I now embodied her boyfriend, her girlfriend and her best friend. Kathy was not about to leave me. Not now, not ever.
It was hours, maybe a day or two, before I awoke. When I did I was in pain, and I also felt different. Even though I could barely move, and the aching in my groin area was excruciating, I could feel that my nether parts were changed. The appendage which had been the last bastion of my maleness was gone. In its place was something which felt, well, painful but different. It seemed like I had a void in the centre of my being. And I realized almost without thinking about it that I would have to fill it. With what, and how often, I would only find out later on.
In the meantime, it dawned on me that the wait was over. I could tell, from the sensations below my waist, I was a total woman. I would never have to worry again about whether I had an erection or was having one at the wrong time, because there was nothing down there to become erect. Just something damp, warm, a bit itchy and still throbbing with pain from the operation.
I was scared and wanted to throw up. Fantasizing about being a woman was one thing. Being one was another. It meant that I was now permanently and completely consigned to a life of feeling soft, gentle and loving, of having my abominable period every month, of having to please men and tend to their endless sexual demands, of worrying about becoming pregnant and being sure I looked as pretty and sexy and feminine as possible wearing the right clothes, the right makeup and the right hairstyle all the time. I was a slave to femininity, a slave to nature. I was locked into the female cycle of the world, the real cycle of humanity, and there was no escape.
Why hadn't I run away when I still could? Why hadn't I screamed bloody murder and made Brennan and Kathy stop? Now it was too late, too late forever. I was just like any other female, completely at the mercy of nature and biological cycles and – and this was the truly scary part – at the mercy of men. Having been one, I knew exactly what they would want to do to me, and what the consequences would be.
At the very least, they'd be pawing and drooling over me and causing me to have hormonal overloads and totally lose control of myself. At the worst, they'd make me pregnant and trigger that bizarre mechanism inside every woman which makes her want to carry her baby to term even at the risk of her life. And then to love whatever it was I produced, be it beautiful or ugly, genius or cretin, supermodel or spastic, to the death. A child only a mother could love, as the saying went. And this is what I had allowed to happen to me. The conspiracy in which I had been an active conspirator.
In my new, feminised consciousness, I figured I deserved whatever was coming to me. It also dawned on me that this is exactly what many women, maybe most women, thought. That because we were women, we deserved what we got. It was our lot in life. Not because we were inferior, or less intelligent, but just for the simple, perverse reason that we were women. And that's what nature had in store for us.
By the time all these thoughts had manifested themselves, I had thrown up into a convenient bedpan and was sobbing uncontrollably. Tears were streaming down my face and my eyes were becoming redder and redder when I felt a soft, gentle hand brush against my cheek and push the damp, golden locks away from my eyes.
"There, there, sweetheart, there's no reason to cry, Michelle. What's done is done and there's no going back, certainly not for you anyway."
It was Kathy, talking as sweetly, kindly and reassuringly as I had ever heard her. Immediately my spirits began to lift. I was not totally alone and I again felt that strong surge of love – what I realized was a sisterly compassion for her – that had gone away while she was in her hard-edged Nurse Kathy role. She sat on the edge of the bed, looking at me with a loving gaze, and lifted the blankets a bit, to reveal my heaving chest and my mammoth boobs. They were gorgeous, big pools of tender, soft tissue where a man could lose himself, forget all his thoughts and cares, and where, eventually a baby, or two or three, could feast to their hearts' content. I was a boob babe, maybe on a par with Dolly Parton or, from days long ago, Marilyn Monroe. From the size of them, I could see there would never be any hiding these ni-niches, as the French would say. They were going to be a central feature, maybe the central feature of my life. I was voluptuous, truly stacked. Men were going to drool and lust after me. A few women, too.
"They're your money makers, your man pleasers and your baby feeders," Kathy said, reading my thoughts, as usual. She was fondling them gently, but persistently. I felt much calmer and warmer, and new juices were flowing in my body. I smiled at her, a loving smile. It felt natural and normal to me when she bent down and took the bulging nipple of my right breast in her lips and began sucking on it, firmly but gently, like an affectionate and caring lover. I felt even warmer and more tingly inside. I also felt the last of the milk from my false pregnancy passing through the membrane of the nipple. Kathy turned her eyes toward me, the nipple still in her mouth, and threw me a conspiratorial glance. The two of us were deep into feminine bonding, one woman taking breast milk from another. I'd always known Kathy and I had a special link. When I thought it must be finished, it became deeper than ever.
Then she did something which I'm sure, had Dr. Brennan been around, he would have put a stop to instantly, given the effort he'd put into creating me, making me completely female. But Kathy was always impetuous, and now was no exception.
With my nipple still in her mouth, and my body starting to quiver in slow spasms of pleasure, I felt something groping down in my groin, where the throbbing pain had been masked by my growing sexual rapture. I felt the sharp sting of bandages being ripped away, after which I felt a finger begin to probe and fondle what I realized was my clitoris. I gasped in a combination of pain and surprise and felt like I was about to shriek. Kathy tore her lips away from my pulsating breast and clamped her mouth on mine in a deep, passionate kiss that went on for minutes, maybe for eternity. She came up for air only briefly, to mutter "Yah pussy, yah", with a big smirk, again reminding me of the hunk at the construction site. Then she glued her lips onto mine again.
While she kissed me, sticking her tongue in deeper and deeper, she increased the pace and the pressure of her fondling and massaging of my clitoris. As she did so I sank deeper and deeper into some dark ocean, a soft night of female sexual pleasure. All thoughts left my head and there was only one sensation left that made brain and body and soul melt into one – sex. I was a woman and I WAS sex. As my passion increased, my body heaved and writhed with greater and greater urgency.
When I was at a point where I was about to tear my mouth away from Kathy's, so I could scream in delight, I felt her push two or three fingers into my vagina, opening it wide. Seconds later, something hard but wonderful thrust into my cunt and seemed to tear all the way through my body, into the centre of my brain – just the way I had dreamt having sex as a woman would be, but far more intense. It was the dildo Kathy had used to keep herself primed for Dr. Brennan. Now it was deep inside my vagina and she was pumping it with her arm with all her might.
I was riding it, riding to heaven, to the pinnacle of ecstasy, on the head of a plastic dildo planted deep inside my body by my female lover, my Kathy who had come back to me, and was making me realize what I was – a woman forever. When I came I let out a yelp of joy and could feel wetness all over my lower body. I was so completely overcome by sheer pleasure that I began to kiss Kathy passionately, to lock her in my arms. She was my master, my husband, my lover. I beamed with pleasure and loved her intensely as she twisted and thrust the dildo inside me for all it was worth, to milk every last ounce of pleasure from me. She obviously took great delight in being able to make me feel so ecstatic and womanly. Again, I had thoughts of wanting to marry her, to live with her forever, to have her baby. Then it crossed my mind she couldn't give me a baby. But she could give me love, so I kissed here over and over again.
Then I nodded off, heading quickly to slumberland, where the pinkness and the happiness would keep me smiling all night. Before I lost consciousness, I had one last thought. Moslems had it wrong. Women didn't get six times as much pleasure from sex. The pleasure we derived from sex was infinite, like femininity itself. Pity men. All they were was tools for our happiness, cogs in the wheels of nature. She was Mother Nature – our mother, not theirs.
"So, Michelle, or should I call you Diane?"
Dr. Brennan was his most effusive and jovial self when he came to see me, for the first time I was actually conscious of his visiting me, sometime that I reckoned was a week to 10 days after my operation. I was still recovering, lying in bed most of the day, but Kathy had removed the remaining few bandages and the pain had gone away. I just lay there, admiring my beautiful new body when I felt like it or watching soap operas and reading fashion magazines when I didn't. Life for this young woman, at least at this very moment, was luxurious indeed.
But Brennan baffled me. What was the "Diane" bit about? Was he being deliberately contrary, bringing up the name of my female worst enemy, or was he going to inflict yet another name change on me, to go along with the physical and psychological transformations that he'd already wrought?
Sensing my concern and confusion, Brennan just chuckled.
"In due time, lovey, in due time," he said, giving nothing away. "In the meantime, how's my little beauty doing today? Feeling a bit dreamy and girlish? Wondering where things go from here now that my little lambiekins has a twat instead of a prick? Hmmm? Thought about the implications of that, have we, loviekins? Fertile females forever fucking fickle fellows? Try saying that five times fast, my little pet. But first, work to do now. Got to get Michelle up and about and on her feet – and fast.
"So here, need to start with basics, lovey – the very, very basics."
With that, Brennan pushed a small, soft, plastic-wrapped pack of Kotex pads and a box of Tampax onto my lap. And he handed me a pair of sleek black panties and a matching low-cut lacy bra. I had only a pair of panties on below the sheets. If I got up now, I would be mostly naked in front of Brennan. I was confused, and wondered if he would leave the room. That, however, was not his plan.
"Put them on now, love, all of them. You're not just wearing this for the fun of it. This is you, loviekins, this is all you. Whatever women want to wear and need to wear and are convinced by ads to wear and are told by their lovers and husbands to wear, you will wear. NOW! Right now, you bitch. Put everything on right now or I will beat your stupid ass bitch body to within an inch of your life.
"Do I make myself perfectly clear, slut cunt?"
Brennan's voice rose to a roar and then dropped back again almost as quickly as it had boiled over. But I was so startled by his sudden anger that I started to cry and shake. I was truly frightened by this man, seemingly out of control, yelling at me, and I felt like there was nothing I could do to stop him. I was powerless against him and I thought for an instant that he might even molest or rape me. I was petrified, like a deer staring into the headlights. I also realised that my reaction – my gut reaction – was utterly and completely female. I was exactly what Brennan wanted me to be – a scared, nervous, frightened, compliant and totally subservient little bitch.
In a flash, I threw off the sheets, got out of bed and stripped, under his watchful gaze. I pulled on the new panties, slipped the Tampax and Kotex pad in place and hitched on my bra. The Tampax fit much better in my vagina than it had in my anus, and I while it felt strange putting it in while Brennan watched me, I was secretly proud. I was a woman and I was having my period. Kathy had already made me use pads for the past few days. But the Tampax was a new touch. My first one, in the right place. It made me feel like a big girl. Which, of course, is what I was.
Glancing at Brennan, who stood in the centre of the room, staring at me almost clinically, I could see from the look in his eye that my reactions were exactly what he'd wanted to see. He wanted to be sure that I was totally and completely a woman. And I could also tell from the way he looked at me that that's exactly what I was.
"Very good, Michelle, very good," he said, reverting to his earlier warm, congenial tone. "You've passed that test very nicely, with flying colours I might say. And I'd also say that you look very alluring in your black bra and panties.
"Very luscious indeed," he said, ogling me salaciously in a way that made me nervous once again. There was nothing I could do to stop it. I realized that every time a man looked at me from now on, I would react the same way. It was purely sexual. And totally beyond my control. As a woman there was no way of controlling the way I reacted to men. I was a creature of instinct, pure, complete feminine instinct. It was the curse of women, to be intuitive and instinctual. And men would be messing with those instincts all the time. I'd need all my intuition to deal with it. What I sensed now was that Brennan had something in mind, something involving me and possibly Kathy. My woman's intuition was right on the money, though wrong about how to react to it. I foolishly trusted Brennan, to my everlasting regret.
"Now that we've got past the basics, and established who's the boss here – as if there were ever any question – I'll leave you to get dressed properly – in private, like a proper young lady should do."
Brennan was fatherly now, solicitious of my wellbeing. I knew something was up.
"There's plenty of outfits in the closets and the wardrobe over there," Brennan said, motioning with his right hand to the far side of the room. I'd rummaged through the closet and drawers when I'd felt the energy, and I'd even tried on a few things, to see how they looked. I couldn't help myself. I had a passion for clothes and how they fit on my curvy, luscious body. And it was extremely interesting and challenging finding just the right top or dress to wear with my bountiful and beautiful boobs.
"I'll give you a half hour to get ready – which in girl time probably means an hour," Brennan said. I blushed because I knew he was right. He looked at me indulgently, paternally. I was beginning to think of him as a father. What I did not know was that he had legally adopted me, in some way that must have cost a lot of money because it was illegal, but it allowed him to obtain a passport for me. All part of his plan, a plan that I did not and could not know at the time, nor did Kathy, but which became shockingly clear sooner than I'd have thought.
"Anyway, the reason I'm getting you up and on your feet is to get you out of the house – yes, that's right, you're going to go on another shopping trip to the mall, and you're going with your favourite shopping companion, Kathy."
I let out a little yelp of happiness and rushed over to give daddy a hug, my big boobs bouncing as I ran across the room and crushed my soft, yummy chest against his. As I looked up at Brennan with a big smile on my face, I could tell he was doing his best to restrain himself from taking advantage of me – and I admired him for it. Even when daughters tantalised their daddies, it was just for fun and they should never, ever give in. But it was a fun game – pushing the daddy to the limit. Oh what fun women could have. Maybe, in some way, we were the mistresses of the universe. Maybe there were no masters. That was a comforting thought, now that I was clearly in the mistress class and not one of the masters.
"Oh, and I almost forgot. I've got a new charm for you to add to your bracelet."
Brennan handed me a heart-shaped ring that had been reworked by a jeweler so that it could snap onto my bracelet. As I snapped it into place, beside the "Care Bears" charm Kathy had given me, I had a fleeting thought that Diane used to wear something very similar. I'd have to compare mine with hers the next time I saw her, but meanwhile, it was truly lovely.
"Thank you daddy, thank you, thank you, thank you," I gushed, like a Barbie. It could be fun to act like a Barbie from time to time. No brain, big tits, lots of clothes and big, hunkie, brainless Ken. What more could a plastic girl want?
"Okay, sweetheart, okay. You've only got 40 minutes left so make it snappy." With that Brennan smiled at me, patted my soft bottom in a paternal way and left the room. I opened the door to the wardrobe. Dresses, skirts, blouses, the works. I was in girly heaven. Choices galore, for little miss pussy Michelle. Meow. Meow. The cat was about to get out of the bag, and go strut her stuff with her girlfriend at the mall.
* * *
"We're shopping 'til we drop."
Kathy was in her most schoolgirl-on-a-buying-binge mode as we dived into the Buckstown Valley Mall. This time, it was different for me. Before we left Brennan's office, with Kathy driving his new, red Audi convertible, which made a nifty replacement for her Mustang, he'd stuffed our purses with wads of cash.
"Spend it all, my lovelies," he said, looking at us and treating us like the complete female bimbos he wanted us to be, at that moment, and which it pleased us to be as well. On a shopping trip, who wanted to think? Impulse buying was the name of the game, and Kathy and I were in high impulse-buying gear.
On my return visit to the mall, now completely feminised, I had a new appreciation for what the shops said about the world's devotion to and worship of the female body. The mall was actually a temple to the great goddess, femininity. Just about everything in it was for women, with a few token nods to the men who might be accompanying them. While there were video, gadget and computer stores, what the mall mainly contained was acres upon acres of women's clothing, underwear, makeup, perfume, lingerie, shoes, wigs and accessories.
"Oooh, Kathy," I said, clutching her arm and feeling a new thrill course through every bone in my body, as we walked in the entryway. "I think I've died and gone to heaven."
"You total clothes whore, you," Kathy said, laughing and pinching my cheek. I beamed at her and she looked lovingly at me. We were a couple again. We were Kathy and Michelle, the lesbian lovelies of the Buckstown mall. And we were out to shock and awe – which we succeeded in doing with almost no effort.
The two of us were the sexiest, most stunning babes anyone saw that day as we tore through rack after rack of skimpy outfits, daring, almost non-existent panties, Wonderbras that made even my huge hooters look bigger and shapelier, and snapped up bottle after bottle and container after container of perfume, makeup and lipstick.
"Do you think it's me," I said to Kathy at one point, modeling a thong bikini bathing suit which would have made even the babes in Rio think twice.
"Take it, take everything," she said. So I did.
We wound up, laughing and giggling almost uncontrollably, by returning to Theresa's Secret where I again tried on the Valentine's nightie Kathy had rejected on the last visit. This time I bought that one, plus another, pink number that was so skimpy it barely counted as a garment, let alone a nightgown. Needless to say, it was extremely sexy and incredibly expensive.
Hours later, we lapped up a delicious frappuccino at Bigbucks. I looked around for Andrea, who for some reason had left a big impression on me, but she was nowhere to be seen. Instead, a younger, less savvy young waiter, drooled over us as he served our coffees. His eyes almost popped out of his head as he stared down my cleavage, which I'd exposed to the legal limit, maybe beyond. Other people stared at us as well. But it wasn't because they thought we were weirdo dykes. They thought we must both be movie stars.
"That was fun," I said, holding Kathy's left hand tightly in mine, clutching my packages at my side, as we strolled towards the exit and the car park.
"Excuse me, ladies, may I have a word with you?"
A blue-suited security guard – I thought maybe the same one I'd noticed tracking us on our last visit – stepped in front of us, barring the way. Two other guards materalised as if from nowhere, standing to either side. They looked at us dispassionately, not threateningly, but they were big hunks who were clearly not going to move. And two young chicks laden with packages clearly had no choice but to listen closely to what they had to say.
"I'm sorry, we'd just like to ask you a few questions, there's been a security alert in one of the stores and the manager there phoned us a description. It won't take more than a minute or two, if you could just come with us into the security office."
The man seemed straightforward enough. Kathy and I looked at each other and nodded our assent. We'd done nothing wrong, so it shouldn't take long to straighten out. We had receipts for everything. Just a simple misunderstanding, we thought. Afterwards I realized we should have run for our lives, that it was our only chance, but there was no way of telling. Unless we'd relied a bit more on our intuition.
Kathy and I and the three men walked over to the side of the pedestrian walkway where there was a gray, metal, windowless door marked "Security". We stepped inside into a medium-sized, unfinished concrete block room with the typical girlie pinup calendar on the wall and plain, gray metal desk at the end of the room, with several chairs in front of it.
"Will you please be seated?," the first security man said, maintaining a cool, efficient, businesslike tone of voice.
"This won't take but a moment," he continued. The two other security men, who had disappeared into a side room for a moment, were now back in the larger room, Each of them took up a position directly behind the chairs on which Kathy and I were seated, facing the man who was questioning us. I was feeling more and more nervous, sensing that something was up. And then, without warning, it happened.
The men behind us whipped out anaesthetic gas masks from behind their backs and clamped them firmly, immovably, over our mouths and noses. Kathy and I struggled, flailing with our arms, kicking, even trying to yell, scratch or bite our attackers, but it was futile. The men were too big and we were too weak. In 60 seconds, we were out cold. The three men in the room smiled at each other as they picked up Kathy and me as if we were sacks of potatoes.
While the two heavies stood holding us like human cargo, Brennan stepped out of a side room and rummaged through Kathy's purse for the keys to the Audi.
"Put them in the car," he said to the goons. "I've got to get them down to the airport hotel within the hour to get them dressed and ready for the flight to Bahrain. Thanks for your excellent work."
Brennan peeled off hundred after hundred dollar note bill from a thick wad in his pocket. The security guards looked extremely pleased. Their work was done. And Kathy and I were on our way, to a life of bondage and sexual slavery, in a Bahrain brothel.
End of Part Two. To be continued
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