Satin Doll

by Kitten

 

Part 2

 

Then one day Crimson handed him a box wrapped with pink paper and a pink bow. "This is for you."

"For me?" Joyce opened the present with giddy excitement and looked inside. Then he stared at Crimson in great dismay.

"I don't understand…" he mumbled.

There was a black rubber dildo in the box.

"Oh, sweetie, I know you must dream about getting fucked by a man. And I know it must be frustrating to never get any. So I bought you a little rubber toy to play with, Kitten."

"But Crimson," Joyce's eyes filled with helpless tears. "I don't want to… I can't… use this."

"Don't be ridiculous," she scolded him. "Just be grateful that I bought you a present, baby girl."

"I am grateful…" He reached out with a delicate hand and gingerly lifted the rubber dildo. It felt heavy and soft in his fingers.

"Now what do you say, darling?"

"Thank you, Crimson."

He tried not to cry.

"I know it looks very big, dear, but you'll get used to it."

"Do I have to?" Joyce hung his head and whined like a child.

"Just lie down on the bed, precious." Crimson patted him on the bottom and kissed him on the lips. "Spread your legs, baby. I want to see you play with your new toy."

Joyce did as he was told. He lay back on the bed with his hips raised up and tried to shove the black dildo up his ass, without success.

"Here, use this." She handed him a jar of Vaseline. "To lubricate your pussy."

When his little sex-hole was properly greased, she told him to get on his hands and knees. Then she pushed the rubber cock into his ass and worked it back and forth.

"There now…" she ran the latex dildo deeper into his rear end. "You look so pretty, Kitten, with your big fat ass lifted up in the air like that!"

"Oh, please, no, don't, it hurts, it hurts!" Joyce begged and pleaded. But she wouldn't stop. And after a while it almost began to feel almost natural.

"Yes, you are a stupid cow…"

"A little bitch…"

"A ridiculous sissy…"

Crimson told him over and over.

"Look how tiny your pee-pee is." She took the soft flaccid nub and rolled it back and forth between her fingers. Then she laughed and pressed the pink button of flesh back into his body.

"Here," she handed him a rubbery flesh-toned garment. "Put this on, honey."

It was a pink rubber pad with a sticky adhesive surface, designed to look like a woman's vagina.

"Oh no, Crimson, no!" he shook his head in horror.

"Put it on! Right now!" she ordered him.

The pad compressed his balls and penis and gave the area between his legs a smooth feminine appearance. The adhesive glue bonded instantly with his flesh and made it virtually impossible to remove the garment.

"Yes, that's much better," Crimson smiled. "I mean, that thing between your legs is so tiny and pathetic. You couldn't fuck me with it to save your life. And yet for some reason you still pretend like you're a man. It's so ridiculous. I mean, just take a look at yourself."

She led him to the mirror.

"Do you see what I see?"

"Oh no!" he moaned. "Look what you've done to me!"

With his eyebrows plucked, his hair curled into bright platinum ringlets that bounced around his face, wearing black false eyelashes, black eyeliner and crimson lipstick, Joyce looked like a showgirl. His fingernails and toenails were painted bright red. He wore a tight black satin corset that gave him a stylized female shape. High heels only further exaggerated the wiggle of his plump behind. And that awful rubber pad eliminated the one last vestige of masculinity between his legs.

There was a small vertical slit in the front of the pad that allowed him to sit and urinate. The head of his pee-pee barely protruded from the slit, like a woman's clitoris. But that was the extent of it.

Otherwise the rubber pad totally concealed his sex.

Joyce was appalled by the realization that this was him, but he also strangely excited by the sight of this big sexy girl in the mirror.

"See how soft and squishy it is…"

Crimson squeezed his quivering bottom.

"Really, dear, I think it's time we put you on a proper diet. You're starting to jiggle like a middle-aged woman. And we don't want you to jiggle, do we, Kitten?"

"No," he cringed.

Her solution was to make him wear a corset all the time. The garment provided him with much needed support. It nipped-in his middle and forced up his chest. It also gave him small but pretty breasts that bounced up and down when he moved.

That was bad enough.

But even worse was the horrible rubber pad she made him wear between his legs. It compressed his sex into a smooth, feminine-looking mound.

Eventually his little pee-pee got so accustomed to being tucked away that it stayed like that even when Crimson removed the rubber pad. He had to reach down between his legs and pull it out with his fingertips. Then it looked awfully small, like a rubber thimble, not a penis.

Embarrassed, he stuffed it back inside his body; and it disappeared quite easily. There was a little pucker of flesh where there used to be a small protrusion between his legs; a soft inward turning thing like a woman's streamlined pussy.

 

* * * *

Crimson put on a tight white dress with a plunging neckline that accentuated the shape of her large firm breasts, and a pair of spiky white pumps.

She caught Joyce looking at her bosom and smiled.

"Do I look alright?"

"Oh gosh, yes, you look beautiful."

"Smoke this." Crimson handed him a joint.

When he was high and confused, she hugged him and said, "Mommy's going out on a date tonight and she wants you to cum in your panties before she does. Can you do that for Mommy?"

He nodded and squirmed.

To masturbate he had to reach down between his legs, into his panties, past the rubber slit, and manipulate his recessed pee-pee like a clitoris, rubbing it as best he could with a fingertip.

"That's right, precious," Crimson encouraged him. "That's a good girl. Spread your legs, Kitten. Don't be shy."
He wiggled his hips and pumped his ass until he began to tremble and squeal, but somehow, with his little penis compressed, nothing else happened.

It was all very exasperating.

"Oh no!" he moaned and squirmed and pressed against the head of his recessed organ, to no avail. He wasn't able to get hard or ejaculate. He could only wiggle and twist in frustration.

"Oh, Mommy, please can I take my rubber pad off? Please!"

"Why?" Crimson laughed. "So you can squirt and jiggle like a dirty cow? No, it's better this way. There's no icky mess to clean up. And you look so nice and pretty."

"But, Mommy…"

"No, precious. You're just going to have to get used to it. Now roll over." Crimson lifted up his pleated skirt and smacked his trembling ass. "Oh my," she cooed. "What a big fat bottom! I bet my girl wants to get her big fat sexy bottom fucked by a man, doesn't she?"

"No, I don't!"

"C'mon, admit it, Kitten. This big fat bottom needs cock. Doesn't it?"

"I g-g-guess…" he nodded, hesitantly.

"Yes, of course it does, honey," she squeezed his quivering buttocks. "Momma knows her little girl." And then, very slowly, she pulled down his black lace panties and spread his ass cheeks apart and found his little sex-hole.

"Isn't that right?" She inserted a finger. "Doesn't my little girl want to get her ass fucked with a big fat nasty cock? Doesn't she?"

"Oh yes, Mommy, yes!" he whimpered as she worked her finger back and forth. "I wanna get fucked in the ass!" he squealed.

"Oh, I know you do!" she laughed. "Now cum in your little panties, Kitten, and think about Mommy dating a big strong man tonight, while you lie your bed dressed in your frilly nightie…"

She smiled and played with his nipples and pushed her middle finger deep into his sex-hole until, finally, with a high pitched gasp, something wet and squishy happened down there, and Kitten creamed in her ruffled panties.

 

* * * *

The next day at work, she introduced him to the new national sales manager, a tall dark-haired handsome man in a gray single-breasted suit, named, Jack Morrison.

"Jack, this is my secretary, Joyce Brookes."

"Hello, Joyce."

The man gave him a slow appraising smile.

Joyce was aware of how very feminine he looked in his tight high-waisted cream colored pants, black silk blouse, and low-slung mules, and was stirred and embarrassed by this lingering smile.

"Jack's in charge of the entire sales department."

"That's quite a responsibility," Joyce simpered.

"It's okay," Jack winked. "I like to be in charge."

Jack and Joyce were nearly the same age. But they were very different. Jack made tons of money and had a big career ahead of him. Joyce, on the other hand, still worked as Crimson's personal secretary, and seemed to be going no where.

It made Joyce feel less than adequate.

"Maybe you should try beauty school," Crimson laughed.

"I don't wanna go to beauty school!"

"Well, then maybe you could be Jack's new secretary. I bet you'd love that."

"Crimson!" he was shocked. "How can you say that?"

"Like nobody can see it." She smiled. "You like him, don't you, Kitten?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course you do, honey-lamb."

"You must be drunk."

"Yes, you can be Jack's new secretary. And he can be your boss. Wouldn't that be fun?" She put her arms around his waist. "Wouldn't you like to be Jack's personal Gal Friday? Wouldn't you like to wear cute little dresses and paint your nails every day?"

"You must be crazy."

He tried to pull away.

"Don't deny it, Kitten, everybody can see it. We all know you like him. So, admit it." She kissed him slowly on the lips and then gradually inserted her tongue into his wet receptive mouth.

"You could be Jack's little secretary by day, and my wife at night. You like that, wouldn't you, Kitten?"

"Oh, yes!" He moaned in a soft, breathless voice.

"Yeah, I bet you would!"

She slapped him across the face.

Joyce was stunned.

"Why'd you do that?" he cried.

"You little slut!"

She threw him on the bed.

"You're my bitch! And you belong to me! Do you understand?"

Joyce sobbed and hid his face in his hands.

"I said, do you understand me, bitch?"

"Yes," he whimpered. "Yes, Ms. Crimson."

"Good," she chuckled softly. "Now play with your pussy, bitch."

 

* * * *

"Crimson," he sniffled. "Can we make love?"

"Now don't be silly, dear. You know we can't."

"Why not?"

"Well, for one thing, honey, I need a man."

Crimson moved around the room in black French cut panties and a matching demi bra that made her look extremely sexy. She was completely oblivious of Joyce sitting there in a skimpy white blouse and a black pleated skirt with black suspenders and a little hem that barely covered his buttery soft thighs.

"Well, then, can I kiss you, please?"

"No, honey, I'm sorry but you can't."

"Why not?" he complained. "You never let me kiss you anymore!"

Crimson looked at him sitting there in his ridiculous school girl outfit and had to laugh. "But why should I let you kiss me, Kitten? Do you think you deserve to kiss me? Have you been a good little girl?"

"Yes! Oh, yes!" he nodded eagerly.

"No, I don't think so," Crimson considered him. "I think you've been a bad girl. And I want you to get over here. Right now!"

She reached in a dresser drawer and picked up a large, black rubber dildo.

"Oh, no!" Joyce shook his head.

"Oh, yes!" Crimson smiled sharply as she buckled on the big jiggling dick. "Spread your legs, precious."

She raised the hem of his little skirt and ran her hand over his squirming bottom. Then she had him bend over the bed and she fucked him in the ass with the strap-on dildo which pressed against her pelvis in such a way that it stimulated her clitoris every time she thrust the rubber cock into his tightly puckered sex-hole.

"Oh… no!" Joyce began to move his hips.

"That's right! Take it up the ass! You big dumb bitch!"

She grabbed his bobbling tits, squeezing them in her hands. Then she found his nipples and began to twist them and tug them and pull them until they grew stiff and he lifted his up ass for her to fuck him better, while she repeated over and over what a big dumb bitch he was.

"Oh… oh… oh!" Joyce started to squeal in a small girlish voice. Then a thin stream of milky fluid oozed from the slit in his vaginal pad and dribbled slowly down his thighs.

"Baby got excited, didn't she?" Crimson chuckled softly. "And she made a mess! What a bad girl! What a dirty girl!"

She spanked him for squirting without permission, then put him to bed in a short pink ruffled nightie.

"Sweet dreams, Kitten."

Crimson turned out the light.

Then she got dressed and went out for the night with a big strong Puerto Rican stud named, Ramone, who held her firmly in his arms while they danced in a club packed with people and she pressed herself against him.

 

* * * *

Another day at work. Crimson was out to lunch and Joyce was alone in her office, bent over a filing cabinet, when Jack Morrison came into the room.

"Hey," the national sales manager closed the door behind him and smiled slowly. "C'mere."

Joyce was dressed in white Capri pants and a little white tank top. The pants were very tight and they emphasized his nicely rounded posterior as he stood in front of the handsome man.

"What do you want?"

Jack Morrison studied him like a drill instructor appraising a new recruit.

"You plucked your eyebrows," he grunted.

"Just a little bit," Joyce blushed.

His voice sounded thin, nasal, and frightened.

"They look nice."

"Thanks… I think… you're making me nervous."

"Don't be scared," he chuckled. "You're very pretty, Joyce."

"Oh, come on, Jack!"

"Well, it's true, you know. You're quite attractive."

He put his hands around Joyce's narrow waist and suddenly pulled him forward. Then he kissed the startled boy on the lips.

"I like the way your nipples press against your blouse. I like the way you look so soft and smooth and pretty…" he panted. "You're such an obvious little faggot."

"Don't say that!" Joyce gasped.

"Shut your big fat mouth!" the national sales manager grabbed him by the arm and squeezed it hard enough to make him wince.

"I'm sorry…" Joyce moaned.

"That's right. That's a good girl," Jack Morrison laughed with obvious pleasure. "Now get down on your hands and knees…"

That's when Crimson came back unexpectedly and caught Joyce kneeling between the man's legs, about to suck his throbbing cock.

"You little cunt!" she cursed.

"But Crimson…" he tried to explain.

"Shut up!" She yelled at him. "You're such a stupid little bitch! You're fired, bitch! Get out of here! Now!"

Joyce was stunned. He stood there speechless.

"Didn't you here me?" she yelled. "You're fired!"

 

* * * *

His key didn't work when he got back to the apartment. Crimson had changed all the locks. And she wouldn't let him in. So he wandered the streets of the city, all alone, after dark, shivering in the cold, calling and calling, until she finally picked up the phone.

"I'm sorry…" he stood sniveling in a phone booth. "Can I come over? Please?"

She grudgingly agreed to see him. But only for a minute.

"Sit over there."

She indicated a metal folding chair.

Joyce sat down. He looked small, tired, and depressed.

Crimson sat on the couch, wearing a tight black dress, with her legs curled underneath her, one hand clasping a bare ankle.

"What do you want, Joyce?"

"I just wanted to say… that I know I made a mistake… and that I was wrong… and I promise… it'll never happen again."

"I couldn't care less."

"But it wasn't my fault! He forced me! I didn't know what to do! You have to believe me!" he sobbed. "Please, give me another chance!"

"I already gave you a chance, Joyce. I trusted you. I took you in. I gave you a job. Why should I give you another one?"

"Because I promise, I'll be good… and do whatever you say."

"I don't know," she frowned.

"I'll do anything…" he begged her.

"Alright," she finally agreed. "But I'm telling you right now, if you come back to work, it won't be in the same position. You'll be part of the steno pool. And you'll have to dress like all the other girls in the steno pool. Do you understand? That means dresses, bras, panties, and lots of make up, all the time, Kitten."

"But what will people say?" he whimpered.

"Oh, I think they'll get used to it," she smiled.

And so Joyce started going to work dressed as a girl in tight skirts and blouses, and sat with all the other girls in the typing pool, transcribing letters and memos all day long.

At night he slept in the maid's room, down the hall, where he lay awake in a little bed, dressed like a doll in a frilly nightie trimmed with ribbons and bows, and listened to Crimson moaning as she made love to a Scandinavian weightlifter named, Sven Nordkvist.

"Oh yeah, baby, go baby, go!" she moaned.

And Joyce began to weep.

 

* * * *

Every morning when he woke up, then again at night before he went to bed, Crimson made him rub a special moisturizing cream onto his little round breasts.

"It'll keep your skin feeling nice and soft," she said. And the cream seemed to do just that.

But now, standing in front of the mirror, dressed in a mint green baby doll nightie, Joyce suddenly saw the full effect of all those daily treatments and nearly fainted when he did.

His nipples, beneath the filmy mint green material, were clearly defined. They pressed firmly against the top of the diaphanous nightie and jiggled up and down as he moved around the room. The flesh above the ruffled bodice protruded in a way that was obviously female.

He went to Crimson in a panic.

"I think I'm having a bad reaction to the moisturizing cream," he worried. "Maybe I'm allergic to one of the ingredients."

"Let me see." Crimson unbuttoned the top of his delicate nightie and fingered the soft fatty tissue. "No, honey, it's fine." She gave his nipple a little squeeze.

"But my chest is getting bigger. And it's starting to look like I have women's breasts!" he complained.

"They may seem a little plumper than before. But don't worry, dear, that's just the moisturizer hydrating your skin."

"But they're getting bigger!"

"Nonsense," she told him.

"Can't you see it?"

Joyce sat perched on the edge of a black velvet chair. The elasticized bodice of his little nightgown was pulled down to reveal his now prominent bust.

"So what?" She cupped and squeezed his prominent breasts. "I think you look quite pretty."

"But…"

She pulled him forward by his nipples.

"Don't you wanna make me happy? Don't you wanna turn me on?"

She twisted his tits until he started to squirm.

"Yes, Crimson…" he whimpered softly.

"That's a good girl," she smiled and reached down under the hem of his ruffled nightie and found the head of his little pee-pee jutting from the slit of his pink rubber vaginal pad. "Why it's just like another nipple," she teased him as she milked him slowly, squeezing his teeny thing until suddenly, with a muted sob, Joyce ejaculated, and a little white cream oozed from his neoprene pussy.

"Oh, Crimson…" he moaned. "What have you done to me?"

"Nothing you didn't want done," she laughed.

Then she handed him a ruffled apron and said she was going out for a few hours, and when she came back she expected the house to be spick and span.

"Yes, Crimson."

"Then I want you to dress up real sexy and wait for me in the bedroom. Got that, Kitten?"

He nodded.

"Good girl." She winked at him.

 

* * * *

Hours later, Crimson came home with the smell of hard liquor on her breath.

"Kitten!" she threw back her head and yelled for him. "Kitten! Come here!"

"Coming!" he called from the recesses of the bedroom.

Then he appeared almost immediately, trotting into view, wearing a pretty lilac nightie. His face was meticulously painted with lipstick, rouge, eyeliner, and mascara.

"Is everything alright?"

Joyce stopped short when he saw Crimson standing there with Jack Morrison. He wanted to run and hide. But the man had already seen him painted, puffed, and powdered like a geisha girl.

"Hello, Joyce," he smiled.

"How's my little housewife?" Crimson laughed and kissed him on the lips.

"You're drunk…" he blushed and stammered nervously.

"You see what I mean?" Crimson looked at the handsome man and smiled. "What did I say?"

"You were right," he agreed. "She makes a very pretty girl."

"You just have to know how to treat her." Crimson sneered at the boy in his frilly nightie. "Isn't that right, Kitten?"

He swallowed uncomfortably.

"Isn't that right?"

"Y-yes," he stammered. "Yes, Crimson."

"You see?"

"Yeah," Jack Morrison laughed. "Is she always this obedient?"

"Kitten!" Crimson clapped her hands. "What would you do if I told you to suck Mr. Morrison's dick?"

"That's not funny!"

"No, I mean it. What would you do?"

Dropping his eyes, he murmured, "I guess, maybe… I'd do it…"

"Then do it."

"Crimson, please…" he fell to his knees. "Please, don't make me do this…"

"C'mon, Kitten."

She watched him crawl on his hands and knees.

"That's a good girl."

Jack Morrison was seated on the sofa with his legs spread wide apart. He looked down at Joyce's pretty face, his long blonde hair and fat red lips. The boy's lilac nightie was bunched up too high, revealing his smooth white thighs and buttocks jiggling back and forth as the young androgyne crawled between his legs.

"Unbutton his pants."

Crimson smiled.

"Don't be shy."

First Kitten had to unzip the man's fly; then she had to reach inside his trousers, find the gap in his underpants, and take his thick rigid dick in her delicate hand.

"Now pull it out."

The man's penis was huge.

"It's so big…"

She was clearly terrified.

"That's all right." Jack Morrison forced her down between his legs. "Don't be afraid," he said.

Then Kitten opened her fat red lips.

And he shoved his cock inside her mouth.

It almost made here gag, but she managed to accommodate the size by opening wide; then she wrapped her hand around his massive dick and started sucking it like a big lollipop. Her wet red lips glistened with saliva as she bent herself to the task at hand.

"You little slut!"

Jack Morrison grabbed the back of her curly blonde head.

"You little whore!" he gasped.

Using her face like an ashtray or a trash receptacle, thrusting forward, sliding back. Then he shot his wad inside her mouth, filling it with salty cum.

"Swallow it," Crimson looked at her without expression.

Kitten desperately wanted to spit it out but she was scared that if she did Crimson would find a way to punish her; so she kept her mouth shut, closed her eyes, and swallowed.

 

 

* * * *

And so things continued for a little while. But then one day, Crimson ordered Joyce to come into her office.

Crimson sat behind a massive desk, wearing a sleekly tailored white Versace suit.

Joyce stood nervously before her in a tight blue dress that did little to hide his jutting breasts and waggling bottom.

"There've been some complaints about you, dear."

"W-what do you mean?" he stammered.

"Some of the girls don't like working with a drag queen. They've threatened to file a law suit."

"But w-why?"

"Well, there seems to be an old law prohibiting men from wearing dresses in public. And if you do, I can be sued."

"But I don't have to wear dresses…"

"Well, yes, I'm afraid you do, Kitten. You have big tits and a fat ass, and that makes dresses necessary. And besides, honey, that won't solve the problem. You see, the business is up for sale, and I really can't afford the scandal. I'm afraid you're just going to have to leave."

"And do what?" He began to whimper.

"Stay home. Take care of the apartment. What's wrong with that?"

"I don't wanna stay home and clean the apartment!"

He started to cry.

"Well, you can do whatever you want, sweetie-pie. But you can't work here anymore. I hope I've made that clear."

"But Crimson…"

"Don't snivel, Joyce."
"But what am I supposed to do?"

"Here. Take these." Crimson handed him two Valiums. "You need to calm down. It's not the end of the world, precious. Don't worry. We'll think of something."

That night Joyce sat drugged and listless on the sofa. He hated his floppy breasts and big behind. He hated himself and what he'd become.

"God, help me!" he cried.

"Don't worry," Crimson smiled. "I have a solution."

"What?" he sniffled.

"I know a man who runs a little nightclub. He needs a new waitress."

Joyce stared at her in disbelief.

"You want me to be a waitress?"

"Why not?" Crimson slipped her arm around his shoulders. "What do you have to lose? I mean, really, what else are you going to do? Just hang around the house? What are you going to do for money? How are you going to pay the rent?"

"I g-guess… I should f-find a job."

"I guess you should."

She lit a cigarette and looked at him.

"Okay, I'll… do it," he said.

"Good," Crimson laughed. "Now you're being practical."

She handed him a short crinkly blue satin dress and a pair of black suede heels and told him to get ready.

Then she took him down to a dingy little bar-slash-strip club where she knew the manager.

"This is my roommate, Joyce," she said. "This is Roscoe Bliss." She introduced him to a squat, barrel-chested man with a tremendous beer belly.

"Hello, Mr. Bliss," Joyce blushed and stammered. He felt horribly exposed in his little satin dress with its short puffy sleeves and flouncy bottom. He knew how he must look to the man, with his long platinum blonde hair elaborately curled and his lips painted bright red.

"Yeah, Crimson told me all about you." The man looked at him with obvious interest. "She says you wanna work here. Is that right?"

"Well…" Joyce hesitated.

Crimson pinched him hard enough to make him jump.

"Yes, that's right, Mr. Bliss!" he cried. "That's if you have a job for me!"

"Turn around," Mr. Bliss told him.

And Joyce turned around for him like a pretty doll.

"Now lift up your dress."

Joyce looked at Crimson, staring at him without expression, then at Mr. Bliss, sitting behind a battered desk, leering at him like a toad, and he wanted to run away. But he was afraid of what Crimson might do to him later. So he raised the hem of his shiny blue dress and showed the man his ruffled panties.

"Pull them down."

"Please, Mr. Bliss," he begged him. "Isn't this enough?"

"I thought you wanted a job. I was led to believe you wanted a job. Am I right?"

"Yes, Mr. Bliss," Joyce nodded reluctantly. Then he pulled down his panties and showed the man what he wanted to see.

"Well, I'll be damned," Roscoe Bliss looked carefully at Joyce's crotch and the pink rubber pad which completely hid his original sex. "Yeah, sure…" Mr. Bliss licked his lips. "You seem like a nice kid. You can start tonight."

Crimson turned to Joyce and smiled happily.

"So what do you say?"

"Th-th-thank you, Mr. Bliss." Joyce pulled up his ruffled panties and smoothed down the front of his crinkly blue dress.

"C'mon, sweetie."

Crimson took him by the hand and led him from the office.

She guided him backstage, into a dressing room filled with women wearing pink feather boas, sequined g-strings, doing their faces in lighted mirrors, and presented him with a shiny black vinyl corset and thigh-high boots that shimmered in her hand.

"Here's your costume, baby doll. What do you think?"

Joyce was shocked when he saw it.

"I can't possibly wear that!"

"Well, darling, I'm afraid you have no choice."

"What do you mean?" he glanced around the dressing room and started to panic.

"Oh, sweetie, didn't I tell you? All the girls who work for Roscoe have to dance on stage. That's part of the job."

"Oh, no!" he cried. "I couldn't possibly do that!"

"Relax." She handed him a purple pill and a glass of water. "Take a chill pill, Kitten."

He swallowed it reluctantly.

Then a few minutes later he started to swoon…

The pill turned his body to butter and his mind to mush.

Crimson dressed him up in his black vinyl costume, then laughing at his confused condition, pushed him out on stage.

Joyce stumbled into the lights and froze there frightened by the glare, trapped like a deer in headlights.

Then he heard a man shout, "Shake it, baby!"

And Joyce began to dance. Stiffly at first. Self-conscious and afraid. Until he heard the men in the audience whistling, "Yeah baby, go baby!"

Drifting in a warm cloud of barbiturates, Joyce responded by wiggling her bottom. Somewhere far away in the darkness, she heard people cheering. Thrilled by the adulation, Joyce removed her bra and started to play with her big creamy titties. For this she received a standing ovation.

After the show, Crimson told him he had to see Roscoe Bliss.

The club manager sat behind his desk.

Joyce stood in the middle of the room, fidgeting, as the fat man lit a big cigar and said, "You know, the girls who work here, have to be, willing to, uh, cooperate with management."

"But I am, Mr. Bliss, really I am."

"Well," he said. "You have to prove it."

"Wh-wh-what do you mean?" Joyce stammered nervously.

"Come here."

The club manager was sitting in a swivel chair with his legs spread wide apart.

"Get down on you knees."

The man unzipped his pants.

"Now feel my cock."

Mr. Bliss had a penis that was long and thick. It dangled, half-hard in Joyce's trembling hand.

"Move it back and forth. That's a good girl. Now lick it!" Roscoe Bliss grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled him down to his suddenly rigid erection.

"Suck it!"

The man's cock filled Joyce's mouth and made him gag as it pressed down his throat. But he… she managed to accommodate it.

Then Roscoe Bliss told him to lift his skirt and bend over the desk in a way that exposed his lacy panties and soft jiggling bottom.

"You got a great ass," the club manager chuckled. Then he mounted Joyce from behind and fucked the terrified sissy in his little sex-hole while Joyce whimpered in pain and begged the man to stop. But Roscoe didn't give a damn what Joyce wanted and rammed his cock deeper into his/her fat bottom and lifted the passive sex-toy up in the air with each powerful stroke.

Spread-eagled against the desk, face down, with his ass raised in the air, Joyce started to squeal in a high pitched voice.

"Oh, no, don't… it's too big! It's too big!"

Roscoe Bliss fucked him for maybe twenty minutes before he shot his wad. Then he told him to get back to the dressing room.

Joyce sat there weeping in front of a lighted mirror and tried to do his make-up. But his hands trembled too much and he couldn't do it.

"What's the matter, precious?" Crimson sat down beside him. "Did Mr. Bliss do something nasty to you?"

"Yes," Joyce nodded tearfully.

"Well, just pretend to like it, darling, and pretty soon he'll get bored, and find another girl." She kissed him on the cheek. "And don't be such a crybaby."

"Okay," he whimpered.

"That's a good girl!" Crimson laughed and tweaked his nipples until they both were hard and jutting in her hands.

 

* * * *

Every night Joyce danced on stage, dressed in a shiny black vinyl corset and black thigh-high boots, a small curvaceous blonde, teasing and taunting the crowd with her pendulous breasts and saucy bottom.

Then usually, afterwards, back in the club manager's office, Roscoe Bliss made the little sissy get down on his hands and knees and suck his dick until he shot his wad. Then heavy gobs of jism splattered like tear drops in his face.

"Crimson please I can't take it anymore, please make it stop! I'm falling apart. Help me!" he cried.

"Here, darling." She handed him two more Valium. "Yes, that's right. Swallow them, honey. That's a good girl."

A few minutes later, he felt drowsy and sedated.

"Now tell me," Crimson cupped and fondled his squishy bottom. "What's my little girl upset about?"

"Roscoe Bliss!" he murmured.

"Well, honey, what do you expect? You're a very sexy girl. It's only natural that men are going be attracted to you. Enjoy it, baby. And use it to your advantage."

"But I'm not a girl…" he sighed.

"Honey," she fondled his heavy bosom. "It's far too late for that."

 

* * * *

"Please let me kiss you," he begged her. "Please!"

He touched her shoulder.

"Oh, Kitten," she brushed him off. "You're such a silly cow!"

Joyce looked in the bedroom mirror and saw a frightened girl with big hips and prominent titties dressed in black satin panties and a bra.

"Now get dressed, Kitten."

She handed him a slinky green dress.

"But Crimson," he complained. "Can't I wear p-pants tonight?"

"Don't be ridiculous, darling," she couldn't resist a smile. "You know that pants aren't really appropriate. Now go powder your nose, sweetie. I want you nice and pretty."

Joyce made up his face, combed his hair, arched his eyebrows, did his lashes, painted his lips and pressed them against a piece of tissue paper.

Twenty minutes later, the bathroom door swung open and Joyce came out with his head lowered. The sheer blackness of his bra and panties made a startling contrast against his soft white skin.

He picked up a pair of nylon stockings and sat on the edge of the bed. He pulled them on one at a time, his face intent on this small task, and fastened them with garters. Crimson stood and watched him, trying not to laugh. Then he slipped into a pair pumps and walked across the room.

He stopped and looked backwards, past his soft rounded ass.

"Are my nylons straight?"

"They look fine."

Crimson watched him wiggle into his sequined dress. It clung seductively to his breasts and waist and constrained his swiveling butt. The emerald green sequins seemed to make his honey blonde hair more vivid and vibrant.

Then they smoked a joint and went outside. Crimson wore a tight black strapless dress and spiked black sandals. She took his hand, like a child, and led him down the street.

They went to a popular nightclub called The Pink Flamingo and sat at the bar. Joyce found himself looking at the other women in the club and the way they were dressed: flared leopard print pants, shoes with big clunky heels, baby doll dresses, and combat boots.

Crimson was talking to a big Latino kid with muscles and a gold front tooth. He had a hand on her bare shoulder.

Joyce could tell that she enjoyed the attention. Her voice grew softer, she smiled more frequently, and she twitched her hips seductively when he looked at her. She laughed flirtatiously at something he said. Then she glanced at Joyce and frowned.

"Is something wrong, Kitten?"

"I just don't know what you see in guys like that!"

Crimson's eyes narrowed. She thrust her finger at Joyce's face. Then, suddenly, her mouth widened in an unexpected smile.

"Oh, you poor little mixed-up thing!" she laughed. "Are you jealous, honey? Is Kitten jealous of the big strong man?"

"Don't you care about me at all?"

"Of course I do, sweetie. I treasure these little gestures of rebellion. I really do. But for heaven's sake, stop acting like a pouty baby." She kissed him briefly on the cheek. "There now. That's better."

Then the young Puerto Rican muscle man took Crimson's hand and asked her if she wanted to dance.

Crimson looked at Joyce and shrugged like, what can I do?

"Here," she gave him her hand bag. "Be a doll, and hold this for me, sweetie."

Then she and her new friend went onto the dance floor and started to dance real tight and slow. The guy wore a black tee shirt and tight white jeans that did little to conceal his large masculine bulge.

Watching them, Joyce felt depressed.

After the song ended, they came back to the bar.

The young man swaggered, flushed and proud, with an arm wrapped around Crimson's waist.

"Ramone, this is my roommate, Kitten."

"Hello," Joyce tried to smile. But there were tears in her eyes.

"Hey, you wanna get high?" Ramone grinned. "I got some good pot if you wanna get high."

"No thank you," Kitten replied.

"C'mon," Crimson squeezed her arm. "It'll be fun."

"Alright."

Kitten followed them through the crowd to the other side of the night club. The way she looked in her tight green dress made all the men turn and look at her. Their stares were annoying, but she had to admit that the thrust and bounce of bosom and the roll of her hips encased in green sequins made it hard to ignore her.

"Roberto? Get over here."

Roberto was a shorter, wider version of Ramone.

"This is Crimson, and this is her friend, Kitten."

"Hey, how ya doin'?"

After the introductions, the four of them went out to the parking lot and sat in Ramone's car and smoked a joint. The pot made Kitten relax. She drank a beer. In the front seat, Crimson and Ramone started making out. Roberto turned to Kitten. His gaze started at her pretty legs, and worked their way slowly up her body, stopping and lingering on her breasts.

"Come here," he grunted.

"What?" Kitten murmured. "What do you want?"

"Come closer."

Kitten crossed her legs. Her dress was too short and the hem slid up to expose her smooth white thighs.

"Don't be afraid."

Roberto's fingertips drifted along her back. Then he found the zipper of her dress and slowly he pulled it down, exposing her backside from nape to rear.

"Relax…" he panted and pushed her down in the back seat of the car.

Hair tossed, lips parted, Kitten looked up at the swarthy young man. It was only when she felt Roberto's cock pressed hard against her tummy, that Joyce came to his senses.

Oh, my God! What was he doing? Did he really want to suck Roberto's cock? And be treated like a woman? No! No! No!

He tried to pull back.

"I don't wanna do this!"

Joyce was terrified. He tried to get away but his movements were constrained by the tight green sequined dress which kept his thighs pressed together, and by the five inch heels which made it hard for him to stand or gain his balance.

"I know you're not a real girl," Roberto smiled. "But you wanna be one. Don't you, puta?"

"Please don't hurt me!" Joyce cried.

"Turn over!" Roberto slapped him across the face.

And Joyce did as he was told.

He lay flat on his belly with his face pressed into the upholstery and his rear end lifted up in the air.

That's better…"

Roberto pushed up his dress and pulled down his filmy panties and then spanked his big fat girlish ass with a hard calloused hand. He laughed when Joyce responded with a low moan.

"You like it when I do that, don't you puta?"

"No!" Joyce squirmed around on his belly and tried to move. But Roberto was too big and strong for him.

"Oh, no, stop!" he squealed.

Then Joyce felt Roberto's cock pressed against his/her little sex-hole and he/she began to wiggle and squirm in a way that only served to further inflame Roberto's lust and made him even more determined to fuck this little bitch.

"Oh, god!" Kitten squealed. "Oh, Roberto!" she cried.

He was so big and she was so little, so helpless. What was she supposed to do? Fight the big strong man?

"Oh, daddy, fuck me…" she whimpered, pumping her hips to better accommodate his big throbbing cock deep inside her.

 

* * * *

"You're just another dumb blonde with big tits and a fat ass stuffed in a tight dress," Roscoe Bliss told her. "That's all you are. And if you wanna keep your job, you're gonna have to keep me and the customer's happy. That means from now on you're gonna have to do lap dances with the guys in the audience. You're gonna have to straddle 'em and rub your fat ass on their cocks. And I don't care how you do it," he warned her, "but I want two hundred bucks a week outta your big fuckin' ass, or you'll be out d'fuckin' door, bitch. Y'understand?"

Kitten had no choice. She had to make the money or lose her job and she couldn't afford to lose her job because then Crimson would throw her out, so she did what she had to do, even if that meant getting down on her hands and knees in a dirty bathroom stall and sucking guy's smelly cock.

But then one night she gave a blow job to an undercover cop and got busted for prostitution.

They took her to a precinct house and threw her in a holding tank with a bunch of big dangerous-looking men.

"Please, can I make a phone call?" she begged the cops.

They finally let her call Crimson.

"It serves you right," she said.

"But they won't let me go! And I can't post bail! You have to help me!"

"I'm sorry, Kitten. You brought this on yourself. It's you own fault. You broke the law. And now you're going to have to pay for it."

Kitten was sentenced to six months in the city jail.

They put her in a cell with a giant, black, muscular convict named, Viper Johnson, who was serving time for pimping women in the Bronx. Now, all he did was pump iron and play basketball all day long, and his body, as a result, was chiseled and massive.

The first night Kitten was there, Johnson raped her hard and fast. He forced her to suck his dick and take it up the ass. But then when the woman had settled down, he took his own sweet time with her, pumping his rock hard dick in and out, while she moaned and moved her bottom back and forth.

"That's right, baby!" Johnson growled and spurted deep inside her jiggling white ass.

A few days later Kitten was mincing around in contraband panties and bras, acting more and more girlish, because Johnson liked his women to be ultra feminine. She wore red lipstick and thick black mascara and wiggled around the cell block in skin-tight faded denim short-shorts that emphasized the slow undulation of her ass and a big white v-necked tee shirt that she tied high above her waist in such a way that it accentuated the forward tilt and jiggle of her soft conspicuous breasts.

By the time her six months were nearly up, she'd become so accustomed to playing the part of Viper Johnson's wife, that she couldn't imagine being without him.

Then shortly before Kitten was scheduled to be released from jail, Crimson arrived with two unexpected guests.

Aunt Katherine and Dr. Matilda Braun.

Katherine posted her bail.

"I've been looking for you everywhere!"

She led the pretty girl down the steps of the city jail into the street. "I even offered a $50,000 reward. Thank God, Crimson recognized your photograph and called me."

"The child is schizophrenic," said Dr. Braun. "She needs constant care."

Crimson looked at the pretty girl cringing beside her powerful aunt and smiled at the picture it presented.

"Exactly how old is she?"

"13 years old, I'm sad to say. But her mind is really quite infantile."

"Yes, I can see that," Crimson agreed.

"I'm afraid she's going to need years of therapy," Katherine sighed, fatalistically.

"Yes," Dr. Braun nodded with firm conviction. "She must be regressed back to her childhood… in order for her to go forward."

"I think you're right," Crimson agreed.

Then she took the trembling girl in her arms and kissed her, long and hard, goodbye.

"I'm sorry, Kitten, I tried my best to save you. But I can't give you what you need."

Crimson watched without expression as they put the terrified girl into the back seat of a shiny black limousine that whisked her out of sight.

They took her to a sanitarium by the sea where they pumped her full of designer drugs that left her dull and stupefied.

 

* * * *

Joyce sat in a child's high chair, dressed like a baby in a rubber bib, absorbent diapers, and plastic waterproof panties, with his big oversized titties flopping loosely underneath his little bib, his pale soft bottom going squishy-squish, drooling as Dr. Matilda Braun gave him another needle filled with drugs that made him feel dreamy and lethargic.

He didn't have the strength to resist them when they fed him baby food and shot him up with estrogen and morphine. His arms were so heavy, he could barely move when Katherine came to see him.

"How's my big fat baby girl today?" she smiled and led the heavily sedated boy back to his bed. Then she made him lie down with his legs apart. She reached inside his saggy drawers and felt around until she found his little pee-pee.

"Doesn't that feel nice?" she rubbed and squeezed until Joyce suddenly whimpered and squirted warm white goop into his diapers.

Katherine said he was a dirty, messy baby. And because of that he had to wear his soiled diapers all day long as a reminder and a punishment. Then she put him into a big white ruffled dress, fit for a large infant, and buttoned him up.

Joyce sat on the edge of the bed with his chubby legs dangling over the side, and waited for his aunt to finish dressing him. He no longer cared what they said or did or made him wear or how he looked with his long blonde hair, fat red lips and big titties bouncing in a frilly white baby dress. No, it didn't matter what happened to him anymore.

"Yes!" Katherine cooed and tickled him. "Mommy loves her big baby girl! Yes, she does!"

Joyce began to giggle and squirm like a toddler.

"Mommy, Mommy!" he simpered and clung to Katherine's side.

And that's how Joyce Francis Brookes, heir to a fabulous fortune worth a hundred and fifty million dollars, finally appeared to Mr. Jones, the court appointed lawyer who took one look at the effeminate thing in the ruffled dress, and signed the papers that made Katherine his permanent guardian.

"You're going to be this way all the time."

She pinched his sensitive nipples and made him squirm, but there was nothing he could do to resist her. He lacked the will. And he always had. Or so it seemed to him now as he thought back to the very first time that his domineering aunt had forced him into female clothes and he discovered to his terrible shame that he actually seemed to enjoy his sissified condition.

"Do you understand me, dear? From this day forward you will always be dressed in delicate lingerie, in tight revealing outfits, in short skirts and shimmering gowns with plunging bust lines, in pretty little shoes, frilly bras and delicate panties all the time, and you will always be in every way completely feminine except for one small detail, dangling between your legs, which shall remain there like a tiny reminder that you were once, but will never be again, a boy. And so you'll have to live with that reality every day for the rest of your pretty little life, my dear. You'll be reduced, transformed, and finally grow to love your effeminate condition." Katherine promised him.

And one day if he was very very good and did what he was told, he might be allowed to wear a tight green dress and have a handsome Latin lover named, Roberto, or maybe, if he was really obedient, a big black stud like Viper Johnson who'd fuck him in the ass and put him on the street in hot pants and high heels, turning tricks for twenty dollars a pop.

But first, he had to prove to her satisfaction that he knew how to handle a baby's pacifier.

And so, despite his best intentions and attempts to resist his feminine nature, Joyce Francis Brookes became, over the course of time, a little girl with big titties and a fat behind.

"That's right," she smiled and watched him as he slid the rubber nipple between his lips and started to suck. "Show Mommy how much you like it!"

 

Then he shot his wad, spattering droplets of cum all over Joyce's pretty face.

"That's all you are."

She indicated his full-figured shape, breasts lolling in a tank top, bottom showcased in hot pants as he stood in front of the mirror with his big blonde hair and little heels.

Joyce adjusted his panties and smoothed down his dress.

Then he looked down at his painted toenails and tried not to cry.

 

 

 

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© 2003 by Kitten. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, and compilation design) may be printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.