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This is a work of fiction. Any people, places or locations within are purely fiction and the product of the author's imagination, or their names are used to add realism and/or for satirical purposes. Their use does not constitute any type of endorsement or agreement, in part or in whole, with any belief or message, expressed, implied or otherwise inferred by the author and the story/story line, nor do they imply any endorsement of the story or author.

This story contains scenes of EXTREME VIOLENCE, mature subject matter and deals with alternative lifestyles. If you are not comfortable with these concepts and materials, STOP reading NOW. If you are under the age of seniority and consent where you live, or if these types of materials are illegal for you to read, possess or download, you must STOP reading NOW and you may NOT download this story. If you are very religious, this work will probably anger you. Do not read it. Do not download it. Hello, nice to see you, GO AWAY. You'll be more comfortable at http://www.disney.com please go there instead of here.

 

Midnight Downloads
by Wendy-J
Wendy-J@KimEM.net
© 1999-2004 Wendy-J All Rights Reserved.
Unauthorized distribution or archival prohibited.

 

Part-14
Tuesday Morning September 8^th

When Linda finally got to the Wilson's, she was a nervous wreck. She almost turned and drove away. Instead, she knocked on the door Sam opened it.

"Sam, just the person I was hoping to see."

**********************

"Oh Jesus Christ, what the hell have I gotten myself into?" Jamie cried as he sat on the pot. "Uhnnn!" he groaned as another spasm wracked his body.

He was a complete and total wreck. His hair -- god, there was a lot of it -- was plastered to his face and kept getting in the way. It was a miracle that he hadn't managed to get it wet in the toilet.

When the spasms finally subsided, he wiped gingerly.

"Shit that hurts!"

He carefully made his way to the sink and looked in the mirror. A parody of a woman looked back at him. He even seemed to have breasts! He touched one experimentally. He didn't feel his touch, just the pull of it against his chest. It must be glued on, he figured. Lipstick was smeared around his mouth, black streaks from the mascara and eyeliner ran down his face in smudged streaks, and there were hints of foundation and blusher still on his cheeks and at his hairline. And the hair, hell it was unbelievable. It was plastered to his forehead from perspiration and there was so damn much of it! He gave it a tentative tug. "Ouch!" Well, it sure as hell wasn't a wig. If he had seen someone else looking like this he would have called him a faggot. But it wasn't someone else; it was he, James Boone. Man's man and now… queer? And according to that...that...bitch, he'd ASKED for this. What happened? Had he gone crazy?

Jamie, leaning against the walls, holding on to doorknobs and using every available horizontal and vertical surface for support, all but crawled back into the bedroom. The pictures were everywhere. In his mad dash for the toilet, he'd scattered them all over the room. He looked at the dresser. The keys to the little pad locks were there as promised. He flopped down on the bed and bent to undo the miniature pad locks. His movement caused the breasts to shift and pull at his chest and the diaphanous material of his nightie to brush against his legs and arms. He felt a stirring in his groin.

"Oh god…I am gay!" he thought.

**********************

"My Mom's all right, isn't she, Linda?" Sam asked as she answered the door.

"Unless Brandy called and told you otherwise, your mother should be just fine. I came here to talk to you about your, uh...father."

"You didn't hurt him, did you?" the girl asked.

"Well…hurt is a relative term, Honey. Why don't you come out to the car? I have some things I want to show you and some questions I need to ask." Sam was uncertain as to whether she could truly trust Linda, but she went with her to the beautifully restored Mercedes.

"Sam, I know you want your father in therapy so that he can get help, but therapy won't work unless he wants it."

"I know, Linda. That's what bothers me so much about all this. I know that he'll never agree to get into therapy… at least, not voluntarily."

"Well... I don't know about that. Here, take a look at these and tell me what you think."

The girl took the pack of photographs from Linda and began to leaf through them. Her reaction was anything but what Linda expected it to be. She laughed and laughed till she cried.

"Well, one thing's for certain, if I ever decide to marry Tina, he won't have a reason to keep me from marrying her because of a clothing or lifestyle choice! Is this how you plan to convince him to seek therapy? By blackmailing him into it?"

"No, Honey, by making him think he did that all on his own and doesn't remember it. By making him think he's going crazy. Oh, by the way, want to go get any of your things? I think today will be the perfect day for it."

"What? Go there? While he's there?!? Are you out of your mind, Linda?"

"Well, he is sort of there, but it'll be more like she's there."

"She? Then that's not a wig and makeup?"

"That's right, that is a hair weave and those don't just come off. And that's not just makeup covering his face; Jenny and Mar did that face, the whole thing from the shoulders up. That, my dear, is the end result of the First Lady's special. The most endearing thing about it are his eyebrows."

Sam started to giggle. "But he looks more like an ape with all that body fur."

"Looked, Sweetie, the operative word here is looked; past tense. Marjorie had fun."

"Oh my gods… The whole thing? How long is his hair?"

"He should be in tears by now because he keeps sitting on it."

"Well, he always wanted a little princess…" she giggled.

"Linda, I really don't know if it would be such a good idea. Sure, it'd embarrass him, but…"

"Honey, I can control him. Here's what we'll do…"

And Linda proceeded to tell Sam how she was going to get the girl into the house to get her things and further humiliate Jamie Boone. The humiliation was not so much for punishment as it was a means of control, of breaking his spirit and will to fight. The lower and more perverse Jamie Boone felt about himself, the easier he would be to control and the more attractive psychological counselling and therapy would appear to be to him. All this was explained to Sam in detail. Especially how it could and would work. In the end, she agreed to go to the house, but only on the condition that Tina accompany her.

Tina had come to the door when Linda rang the bell. She watched in silence as the pair talked privately. When they got out of the car and headed back to the house, Sam grabbed Tina and started to tell her about what Linda had to say to her in the confines of the car.

"Okay, let me get this straight. You want me to go to your parents' house with you to get your things. When we get there, Linda is going to be there with your father and he's going to be wearing a nightie, high heels, makeup and long hair?!?" Tina was incredulous. "How the hell did she get him to agree to do it?"

"Actually, he never agreed to it; she tricked him into it. It was a result of his drinking and womanising. I think it rather appropriate, don't you?"

"I guess, but how do I fit into all of this? I mean, why do you want me to go there with you? Isn't it enough that you're gonna see him like that?"

"Well, I'm gonna introduce you to him as my lesbian lover and tell him that homosexuality is genetic and that he must have passed it down to me."

"Shit! That just might work!"

"Yeah, I know. Isn't it great? C'mon, I want you looking really hot. We've got some work to do and you need to practice in those heels if we're gonna make this work."

"What about Mom? I don't think she's gonna go for it."

"I said the same thing. Linda said she's gonna clear it for me. I have a feeling that she'll manage…somehow."

The girls ran up to Tina's room and started their preparations for their visit to Sam's house.

**********************

In Janice's office in the basement, a heated discussion was in progress.

"Are you out of your mind? That monster just about put that little girl in the hospital and you want to send her back there for more? NO! I absolutely forbid it!"

"Jan, listen to me. Do you think I'd let Sam or Tina get hurt? I promise you that there will be someone there in the wings on the outside chance that he does manage to get out of control. Those kids are going to be just as safe as if they were in their beds asleep. I promise. You want to bring him down, don't you?"

"Yes."

"You want him to get help, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Then let me do it my way. I intend to break him and rebuild him into a reasonable, responsible human being. To do that, I need Sam's help and she won't do it without Tina. Please, Jan, let me do what I need to do."

"Why do I let you talk me into these things? Okay, Linda, but if he harms one single solitary hair on either of their heads, you will answer to me. And I promise you, Organization or no, you will suffer."

"You know something, Jan? That, coming from you, scares me more than anything else ever could."

**********************

Jamie Boone sat at his wife's vanity, dressed in the prescribed attire, a frilly, sheer, red and white ruffled baby-doll nightie that just barely covered and supported the breast prostheses glued to his chest. The white, seamed stockings were riddled with snags. The seams looked like a country road that followed a stream or river they had so many twists and turns. His white five-inch stiletto heels, the ankle straps locked about his ankles, were pushing his knees up toward his chest as he sat on the little stool. His hair was a mess of snarls and tangles. The lights of the mirror were shining on his florid face. His hands shook as he stared at a picture of his face showing a perfect, professional makeup job and back at the reflection in the mirror. Tears were running down his cheeks, smearing and running the clown-like makeup he'd attempted. A half-empty bottle of whiskey sat on one corner of the vanity, an empty rocks glass beside it.

As Two O'clock approached, Linda -- or "Tigger" as she referred to herself when she was "working" -- circled Jamie Boone's neighbourhood. She wanted to walk in at exactly two.

…"And he hasn't left the house all day, right?" she said into her cell phone. "... Excellent! ... Crying? ..." she laughed almost maniacally. "Be thankful it isn't you!" she chuckled. … "Right, thanks. … Okay, here I go. I'm parking the car now. The girls should be here between fourteen forty-five and fifteen hundred. ... Right. Stay in place unless it looks like it's getting out of hand. There may be some heated discussion, but I don't anticipate any trouble."

She was ready, wearing her hair pulled back in a high, tight, pony tail, severe makeup and a black Lycra-Spandex body suit with five-inch stiletto heeled, thigh-high boots. If it weren't for the endless hours she spent practicing in them she wouldn't be able to move in the shoes. Their only real purpose and use were in a bedroom. She wore a belt at her waist that would soon hold the tools of the "Dominatrix" trade. Those tools lay conveniently on the seat beside her and consisted of a riding crop, a short whip or cat-o-nine tails, a paddle resembling a Ping-Pong paddle with thick rubber on one side and fur on the other, hand cuffs, leg shackles, and a collapsible spreader bar. Tigger had a black leather trench coat over the entire ensemble. She hummed softly to herself as she parked the car in front of the house. Slowly and methodically, she placed each implement of her trade in its place on her belt and then stepped out of the car. She tied the coat closed with its belt then strode purposefully toward the door.

She didn't knock; instead, she used Jamie's keys and quietly unlocked and opened the door. Closing it softly behind her and moving like the cat she took her code name from, Tigger made her way across the room and up the stairs. She stood in the doorway of the bedroom and took in the scene before her. The bed was still unmade and the dirty clothing from the night before was strewn about. Tigger watched her subject at the makeup table. "Pathetic," she thought. "Even now, when he thinks his precious life is on the line, he's drinking."

"Why didn't you meet me at the door?" Her harsh tone and loud words caused Jamie to jump.

He started to babble incoherently. "Buh… I…"

"Why isn't this bed made and the laundry done? This place is disgusting! Who do you think I am? YOUR MAID?!?" she continued, working herself into a rage. She untied her coat and pulled it open and back, putting her hands on her hips. She spread her legs to shoulder width for effect. Her violet eyes blazed with contempt.

Jamie's eyes bulged out of their sockets, terror written all over his makeup-smeared face. "I… Laundr…" he started to crumble. His mind raced as panic set in.

"You haven't even finished your makeup yet and you're having a drink?!?"

"But I…" Jamie sobbed.

She turned her head and looked into the bathroom. There were dirty towels on the floor and hanging over the edge of the tub.

"And the bathroom is just as slovenly! You obviously, have no respect for me, or the beautiful things strewn about here! I can see I made a mistake in thinking that you actually wanted to keep all of this our little secret! Would you like me to send those pictures to your boss at RockFace Flooring?!?"

Jamie just stared in horror at this beautiful goddess of the dark. His mouth worked but there was no sound. He shook his head violently from side to side. He all but collapsed and, losing control of his bladder, he just sat there crying in the spreading pool of urine.

"You disgust me," Tigger hissed. "Do you want me to keep your little secret, pansy?"

Jamie nodded his head slowly.

"Then you have ten minutes to get this mess cleaned up," she said softly. "Do you hear me? Ten minutes." She looked at the delicate watch on her wrist for effect. "I'll be downstairs in the living room. When you have this room AND the bathroom in order, you will come downstairs, kneel at my feet, and beg me to check your work. Is that understood?"

Jamie nodded his head again.

"I said, is that understood?"

"Y…Yes, Muh…Mistress."

"Then get to it; this is your last chance." With that, she spun on her delicate heel and strode purposefully from the room.

Jamie jumped up from the vanity and stumbled hurriedly about the room, picking things up and cleaning his mess, sobbing the whole time.

Tigger sat in the recliner in the living room and sipped a glass of soda while she flipped through the TV Guide.

"TV Guide, now there's a misnomer," she thought. The ten minutes came and went, but the flurry of activity upstairs hadn't ceased, if anything, it had increased. "I think I finally got through to him," she thought.

Fourteen minutes after Tigger left the bedroom, Jamie, still in his sodden panties, teetered meekly down the stairs on his heels. He crossed the room slowly, the picture of awkward clumsiness in his heels. He knelt at her feet and stared at the toes of her gleaming boots.

"Mistress, I've cleaned up my mess. I beg of you, please, forgive me, and check my work."

"You're late."

"But..."

"SILENCE, PANSY!" Jamie trembled in fear and started to cry silently. "You're late! For that, you will be punished. Your punishment will depend on how good a job you did of cleaning up your disgusting mess. Is that understood?" Jamie nodded his head, his relief obvious on his face. "I asked you a question, candy-ass; I expect an answer!"

"Yes, Mistress," he squeaked.

"That's better," Linda said calmly. Now, up the stairs with you. When I get up there I want you kneeling in the middle of the bedroom, with your nose on the floor and your arms behind your back. GO!"

Jamie scurried awkwardly from the room and ran, his feet pounding on the stairs. "QUIETLY!" Tigger yelled. "I DON"T WANT TO HEAR YOUR CANDY-ASSED FEET ON THE STAIRS!" The noise of his departure died suddenly.

When Tigger got to the bedroom, Jamie was kneeling on the floor as directed. The room was clean, a damp spot on the rug by the vanity the only tell tale sign of his embarrassment. The sheets had been changed on the bed, and the bathroom was spotless.

"I see that you put that extra time to good use, pansy. Very well, I think that maybe, … just maybe, … you really want to learn to be my little sissy-boy. Would you like that, candy-ass?"

"Yes, Mistress," came the muffled reply. The fibres from the carpet filled his mouth as he spoke, but he didn't spit them out. He ignored them for fear of what she would do if he did.

"Very well then, Jamie." She'd used her name for him for the first time that afternoon. It filled Jamie with a sense of relief and hope that, somehow, he just might get through this.

Tigger moved across the room to him. "Get out of those soiled clothes and take a shower, candy-ass. When you're done, put on the clothing that I lay out for you. Then we'll work on teaching you how to do your face properly," she said as she bent and unlocked the shoes on his feet.

"I'll be keeping all the keys to all your little locks from now on. And as for the booze…well that, my dear little sissy-boy, is going to stop. Now get moving; we have a lot to do," she said as she checked her watch. It was Two Twenty. "And DON'T get your hair wet!"

"Yes, Mistress."

She stood and watched as Jamie struggled with his clothing. "Damn," she thought, "I have to get word to the girls and keep them from getting here too soon." She almost laughed as she watched Jamie fight with his mane of unruly hair as he tried to get it into the shower cap. Once he was in the shower, she hurried to the phone, called Sam, and told her to come at Three Thirty instead of Two Forty-five as planned.

When Jamie emerged from the shower, Tigger said, "You…are going on a diet. That spare tire of yours looks ridiculous. ... Don't rub your skin so hard! Pat it dry! ... That's better."

Once Jamie was dried off, Tigger led him into the bedroom by his hair and pushed him down onto the bed. "It's time you learned how to get dressed properly. Here. She tossed him a pair of panties. "Put these on."

As Jamie slid the cool satin bikini panties up his legs, his manhood began to twitch. "No…god no, not now! Oh please don't let her see…" he began praying silently.

Panties in place, she handed him a suspender belt and instructed him to put it on and run the tabs under the panties. Its hook and eye closure was difficult with his glamour length nails, but Jamie finally managed it. The bra posed the same problem but was finally in place and ended the heavy tearing sensation he was feeling from the prostheses pulling at his chest. It was a welcome relief.

Everything seemed to be going okay until it was time to put on his stockings. Tigger took one out of the package and showed him how to gather it up into a little donut shape. Jamie watched her wide-eyed, with child-like concentration. Then she released it and let him do it for himself. She watched him clumsily gather the silky material up and begin to put it on his foot.

"Be careful not to put one of your nails through it," she warned. As he slid it up his smooth, hairless leg, his member came to life.

"God no, not now…" he moaned softly.

"Ooooh! Does my little sissy-boy like his stockings?" Jamie hung his face in embarrassment and shame. His blush burned his ears. "I think so!" Tigger giggled.

Hot tears stung at the corners of Jamie's eyes.

"Don't cry, pansy, enjoy it. Because for now, that's all the enjoyment you're going to have."

"But I don't want to enjoy it," he said sullenly.

Tigger slapped his face. "You, you miserable candy-assed slut, don't speak at all unless I give you permission to speak or ask you a direct question! Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mistress," he said meekly.

"You don't say anything to anyone unless I give you permission. Do you understand me, candy-ass?"

"Yes, Mistress," he repeated.

"Finish putting your stockings on," Tigger spat at him

And so it went. Three Thirty found Jamie in the living room replete in a pink satin French Maid's uniform with a tiny white ruffled apron, dusting the furniture while Tigger looked on from the lounger sipping her Coke. She was rocking gently with her legs sensuously crossed at the knees.

"That's right, candy-ass, take each book down, dust it off and replace it," Tigger said in a demeaning voice.

The skirt of the satin uniform stuck almost straight out from all the crinolines and petticoats. Jamie's makeup, again professionally applied, did little to hide the fact that it was a man under it all.

The front door opened and girls' voices could be heard. Jamie froze in place, a look of horror on his face. Sam and Tina entered the room, chattering about shopping. Noticing Tigger in the chair, Sam fell silent and stopped in her tracks. Both girls just stared open mouthed. Tigger simply smiled and, looking at the girls, said, "Pansy, who are these delightful young people?"

Jamie just stared, tears forming at the corners of his eyes. He was unable to speak. All he did was blush as a single tear escaped the corner of one eye. A black trace of running mascara made its way slowly down his cheek, highlighting his embarrassment.

Sam looked about the room and, seeing her father in the maid's uniform with his long hair streaming down his back, giggled, "Daaaaad? ... I just lo-ove your dress! Ooooh! You're sooo cute! Just like a little princess." Then she started to laugh.

Turning back to Tigger she said between giggles, "I'm sorry, I'm Sam, um...the uh...maid's daughter. And this is my friend and lover, Tina." Jamie looked like he wanted to die and kill, all at the same time. "And you are?"

"I must apologise for my sissy-boy's rudeness," Tigger said, staring daggers at Jamie and emphasising the last word by saying it with a growl.

Jamie looked like he'd been slapped. He started to sob silently.

"I'm Linda," she said, still glaring at Jamie. "Won't you and your friend sit down?" she said motioning to the sofa.

"Thank you, I think we will," Sam said with an evil glint in her eye.

"Tina," Linda said as an opening conversational gambit, "that skirt is absolutely adorable. I'll have to get one just like it for my pansy," she said, indicating the plaid, pleated micro-miniskirt Tina was wearing. It was similar in style to what a cheerleader would wear. It looked fantastic on Tina with her long trim legs and high heels. She'd paired it with a white, lightweight, acrylic sweater. She really did look like a cheerleader. Sam, on the other hand, looked like a boy. She was wearing Dockers, an oxford shirt and a crew necked, pullover sweater. Her shoes were wing-tipped loafers. She looked every inch the New England prep-school boy.

"Thank you, Linda," Tina blushed.

"Tina, would you like a soda?" Sam asked.

"Um...yes, thank you." Tina couldn't take her eyes off Sam's father.

"I'll be right back," Sam said as she started into the kitchen.

"Oh, that won't be necessary, Sam," Tigger said, stopping Sam in her tracks, "Sit down and relax. My sissy-boy would just love to get you something to drink. Won't you pansy? ... pansy?!?"

"Y…Yes, Mistress," he choked out between sobs and performed an awkward curtsey, almost falling on his face in the process. He hurried from the room, tripping several times as his heels caught at the knap of the carpet.

"It's sooo hard to find good help these days," Tigger lamented sarcastically. The girls giggled.

"I just love what you've done to him. Tell me, where did you get that outfit? It's so…so…" Sam stumbled looking for an adequate description.

"Prissy?" Tigger prodded.

"Well…that and sexy is more like it, but that doesn't quite cover it either," Sam replied. "In fact, it doesn't quite cover anything, does it?" she giggled.

"A little place at Washington & Zink, called 'Stephanie's Melting Pot,' do you know it?"

"I do," volunteered Tina. "I'll have to take you there some time, Sam; the owner's a trip." She was still staring after Jamie. "How did you..."

"Don't worry about the how, Sweetie; suffice to say that I did."

"Well, I, for one, just love it!" Sam giggled.

"Ah, here we are," Tigger said as Jamie returned with a tray. There were two Cokes, in glasses with ice, on it. The soda had slopped over the tops of the glasses and onto the tray. If it weren't for the napkins on the tray, the glasses would have proved a problem for the girls, dripping soda into their laps.

"Pansy! How many times have I told your candy-ass not to overfill the glasses! Look at that mess!

"I am sorry, ladies; he's such a poor excuse for a sissy-boy. He can't even walk in his pretty little shoes," Linda said in a deriding tone.

"I think he just needs a bit more practice," Sam said, smirking at her father.

"A lot more practice, I should think," Tigger replied icily. "Well, don't just stand there, pansy, get our guests some coasters! And dispose of that tray!" she said acidly.

"Yes, Mistress," Jamie replied and almost fell again when he tried to curtsey.

"And for christ's sake, fix your makeup," Tigger bemoaned contemptuously. "You look like a raccoon again."

"Yes, Mistress," came the automatic reply as he hurried from the room.

Sam just giggled.

You could see that the feminisation and the humiliation were having a profound effect on Jamie. On James, as he was becoming infuriated with the degradation from his own child. And on Jamie, because he was terrified of the consequences of irritating and failing his mistress. He had yet to feel the sting of anything but words, but he was certain that little bit of this "game" of hers was still to come.

"He really is incompetent; I just don't know what I'm going to do with him," Tigger moaned as Jamie returned with coasters for the girls' glasses.

Tina giggled, "I think you're doing just fine given the raw materials you have to work with."

"Yes, I suppose you're right," Tigger agreed, insulting him further. "But I do hate his bumbling."

The three settled in for a nice, quiet, afternoon visit. Tigger stretched it out as long as she dared.

Jamie was becoming tired trying to keep up with her demands and walking in the heels. His feet were screaming, his prick was throbbing from all the satin and silk and he desperately wanted relief. Never once did Tigger allow the sissified man to relax. He was on his feet the whole time, either doing chores or some other menial task contrived to debase and demean him.

The strain of the "visit" was beginning to show on Sam's face, as her expression became more and more pained. So Tigger decided the visit should come to a close. Tina, too, looked like she couldn't bear the situation much longer. By this time, it was dark outside. When she told him to carry Sam's things out to the car he balked. All Tigger did was pick up a stack of photographs and Jamie got with the program. Once all the stuff that Sam could fit into Jan's station wagon was stowed away, she went back into the house. Jamie, always acting the dutiful servant, held the door for her.

"Don't think this is gonna change anything, you little faggot!" he hissed as she passed.

Noticing this exchange, Tigger asked, "Pansy, did you just say something to my guest?"

Tina looked on silently. She could see her friend square her shoulders, pulling herself together in an effort to remain above her fear of her father. She could see that Sam was on the ragged edge, barely keeping her emotions in check.

"Yes, Linda, he did," Sam said defiantly. It was taking all her nerve to speak up and defy her tormentor of a father.

"He said, and - I - quote ..." Jamie paled visibly and began to tremble. "'Don't think this is gonna change anything, you little faggot.' End quote."

"He did, did he? I can see we have much more training to do here. Pansy, didn't I say you were not to speak unless spoken to?" Linda asked sharply.

Jamie stared at her in horrified silence.

"I'm speaking to you, candy-ass! I expect an answer!" she yelled.

"Yes, Mistress," Jamie replied and started to cry.

"I am giving Sam a complete set of pictures for her to do with as she sees fit."

She handed Sam a stack of photographs.

"If you apologise to her, nicely, perhaps she'll keep them to herself. Then, after you've apologised to MY satisfaction, you will go up to your room and wait for me as I've instructed. I can see we're in for a long night. ... Well? We're waiting for your apology!"

"I'm sorry, Sam. Please forgive me," Jamie said between his tears.

"You call that an apology?" Tigger asked. "I see no sign that you're remorseful, I hear no respect for the woman you have just threatened. I just hear words."

Jamie looked stricken. "What the hell did I do?" His mind screamed. The panic was beginning to set in. "What does she want? How am I ever going to get out of this?" he thought as he began to cry.

"ON YOUR KNEES, YOU CANDY-ASSED PUKE!" Linda screamed. "I want you on your knees AT HER FEET! Kiss her shoes and BEG her forgiveness! Tell her what a miserable excuse you are for a man. Tell her how you begged me to help you to look like a woman! Tell her how your tiny - little - poor excuse for a cock gets hard when you put on your stockings! Tell her how you sucked a man's cock last night! Tell her how much you loved the taste of his cum! How you couldn't get enough of it and had to suck it out of my cunt because he was unable to give you more after cumming in your ASS for the third time! Tell her how you pissed yourself when you saw me this afternoon!"

Jamie stood there stupefied and crying silently.

"I'M WAITING!"

Jamie fell to the floor at Sam's feet and sobbed out loud. He was mortified, he couldn't believe it was true, but there were the pictures and he did have the shits this morning and…

"Oh god…" he sobbed. "Sam…" he began, but he never finished. His mind had reached overload. His body slumped in his supplicatory pose as he passed out.

The girls were shocked at what they had just witnessed. Tina stared open mouthed, words failing her. Sam, on the other hand, was barely holding it together. Her hands were beginning to shake.

"Wow, Linda," Sam croaked, putting on a brave front, "that was as good as any Hollywood Marine DI. Remind me never to piss you off."

"Sam, Tina," Linda began, "I don't usually…"

Sam cut her off with a wave of her hand.

Sam stared at her father derisively. She couldn't believe what she'd seen here today, but she was immensely satisfied that progress was being made. It disturbed her, deeply disturbed her that he had to be reduced to nothing before he could be made whole again, but for her mother's sake, they had to try.

"We're out of here, Linda," Sam said, her voice a dull dry rasp. "Do what you have to do, but try and leave me out of it if you can. I don't think I can stand another session like this one. Thanks…for everything," she said as she waved the stack of prints. "Are you ready, Tina? Let's get out of here." Sam held the door for Tina; then, she stepped out of what had been her home for so many years. She pulled the door shut on the scene behind her, closing it on what had once been her life.

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Continued in Part-15

  

  

  

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