She-Male Academy

by Christina Shelly

 

Chapter 1

 

As the van moves slowly and anonymously through dense city traffic, its carefully and very tightly restrained cargo struggles angrily and squeals with increasing desperation into his soft but highly effective panty gag. Alan, soon to be Alice, lies face down on a leather bench bolted to the floor of the van. His slender, always girlish frame is sealed from neck to toe in a tight, figure hugging cocoon of pink rubber and thick leather straps hold his body in place at the ankles, thighs, back and neck. Beneath the rubber, he is naked, his arms lashed painfully behind his back at the elbows and wrists, his ankles also tied tightly together. Large, fearful tears trickle from his baby blue eyes, over his flushed, gag-expanded cheeks and across the thick strip of silver masking tape holding the panties firmly in place.

Poor Alan's useless struggles are hidden from view by carefully blacked out rear windows and a thick metal partition that separates the storage area from the driver and passenger's seats. He knows that Miss Lord and his Aunt are sitting on the other side of the partition, and he also knows that they are taking him, completely against his will (yet with the absolute agreement of his mother), to the Lacy Academy for Young Ladies. Here, he is to be subject to a strict regime of enforced feminisation, to be transformed into a demure, submissive and utterly convincing she-male maidservant.

When his training is complete, he is to be returned to serve his beautiful, long suffering mother, Mary, and his elder sisters, Miriam and Stephanie. Then Alan will truly become Alice; his bold, brash and arrogant male self will be destroyed and replaced with the dainty, ultra-feminine personality of a sissy slave girl.

This strange future had been described to him only an hour before by his goregous and very determined Aunt Holly. Awaking from the effects of a drugged cup of tea, he had discovered himself on the living room floor, naked, bound hand and foot and tightly panty gagged. As he had struggled before his Aunt's high-heeled feet, she had revealed his fate with a cruel smile.

"Put simply, Alan, your mother, your sisters and I have had enough of you. And this business with the police is truly the last straw. How a young man who has had your opportunities and privileges can end up spending a night in a police cell for being drunk and disorderly... well, it defies belief. It also exceeds the limits of your mother's patience. Since your fifteenth birthday, you've brought her nothing but trouble and embarrassment; she's had to put up with a year of masculine insanity, most of which can be put down to physiological and social conditioning. Well, it's about time we reserved that conditioning. And it just so happens, I know someone who can do this very effectively."

As he had struggled, as tears had begun to pour from his eyes, Aunt Holly told him of her close friend Angeline Lacey, the headmistress of a very special and very secret school for wayward young men; a strange, awful place where the delinquent sons of the rich and powerful were sent to undergo a radical and permanent transformation into pretty, subservient she-males, she-males who were in terms of their physical appearance, dress and manner ultra-female, yet who remained, in most cases, biologically male. Petticoated males, who were carefully conditioned to look and act like the most extreme sissies imaginable. As a pupil at Miss Lacey's school, Alan would be transformed into Alice, a lovely, mincing maidservant whose only desires would be to revel in her extremely delicate and increasingly radical feminisation and to serve her mistresses in any way they required.

As Aunt Holly had revealed his terrible fate with a widening smile, Alan had tried to avoid staring at her long, black nylon sheathed legs towering above over him. As this gorgeous, brown eyed brunette, the subject of so may of his teenage fantasies, pronounced his fate like a Greek goddess, he had squealed his outrage and rolled over to face his mother, his eyes pleading uselessly for mercy and release.

His mother was slightly shorter than Aunt Holly, but just as beautiful. His only parent since a bitter divorce ten years previously, Alan had grown up loving her with an almost unnatural passion. Yet in the last year, this love had been ruined by a series of mindless acts, acts inspired by a group of very rowdy, aggressive friends. He had suddenly changed from a mild mannered mother's boy into a genuine terror, bringing shame and bitter disruption to the family home.

Following her teasing description of his fate, Aunt Holly had, with his mother's disturbingly eager assistance, forced his bound body into the rubber bag, sealing him inside with a wicked, vengeful smile as had he squealed and cried. Then, to his horror and utter humiliation, as the bag was pulled over his long, girlish legs, his exposed penis had suddenly become erect.

"Well," Aunt Holly had whispered, "you're obviously not as upset as you sound. Maybe it's the taste of my soiled panties."

Once he had been tightly 'bagged up', Aunt Holly had left the living room. His mother had then knelt down at his side and used a scented hanky to swipe the sweat from his flushed, tear soaked face.

"It's for your own good, Alan. Holly assures me you'll be far happier as Alice. And it will be so nice to have a sweet, obedient daughter."

His squeals lessened as his mother had mopped his brow. Dressed in a beautiful cream silk blouse, short black skirt and matching hose, her own high-heeled mules glistening in the bright summer daylight only inches from his tightly bound body, she had been a vision of mature beauty, another striking brunette with a superb figure which his guilty eyes had fought to avoid. Her strong, rose scented perfume had tickled his nostrils and brought back a hundred sinful memories of his helpless attraction to her. Her golden brown eyes had held both a mother's concern and her own definite arousal. He had felt as his sex strain harder in its sinister rubber prison as his eyes were pulled towards her long, black stockinged legs. As she knelt beside him, her skirt had risen up to reveal the dark tips of her shapely upper thighs and a hint of blood red silk panties. Then he had found his terror and outrage crushed by a very familiar and awful shame, and he knew it was this perverse need that had driven him into the hands of the police, that his behaviour over the past year had not just been the rage of a testosterone fuelled boy, but the reaction of a suddenly sexually aware youth to the simple fact that he desired his own mother. And as this desire had returned, as he had wiggled helplessly before her, he had found himself thinking, if only briefly, that perhaps feminisation was the most suitable punishment for such a dark lust.

His eyes had then met hers and she had smiled. He had fallen still. She had taken his head in her hands. Suddenly, his bonds had not felt so terrible and he found himself moaning with a weird girlish pleasure into the inescapable gag, a pleasure in his helplessness and in his intimate, complete possession by his lovely mother. Then, suddenly, Aunt Holly had strolled back into the room and Alan almost immediately resumed his ballet of squeals and wiggles.

Accompanying his Aunt was a very tall and very beautiful blonde woman, a complete stranger who regarded the naked, tormented Alan with a grim smile of contempt. Dressed in a skin tight black sweater, equally tight Lycra leggings and a pair of running shoes, her striking blonde hair bound in a tight bun, she had seemed a particularly athletic figure and very much prepared for physical exercise.

"We'll get him into the van and be off," his Aunt had then announced. "It's best we don't hang around."

The blonde had then grabbed his cocooned feet and Aunt Holly had taken his shoulders. Despite his struggles, they had lifted his slight frame into the air with little effort and carried him squealing from the room.

"Say hello to Alice, Beverly," Aunt Holly had said to the blonde as they marched out into the sheltered forecourt of his mother's large, suburban house.

"Hello, Alice," the blonde had responded, her ice blue eyes filled with a wicked amusement. "I'm Beverly Lord, a teacher at Miss Lacey's establishment."

Then they had carefully loaded him into the waiting transit van and very tightly strapped him down, his continued wiggles and squeals earning two very hard and painful slaps on his rubber-sheathed backside from Miss Lord. And as the rear doors had been closed and locked, plunging Alan into a shadowy, echoing darkness, a sense of absolute doom had washed over him.

Now, less than sixty minutes later, as the van progresses through city traffic and moves onto the main road out of the city, the taste of Aunt Holly's soiled panties, the pungent taste of her most intimate regions, fill his mouth and seem to seep as a delicate sex scent from behind the thick tape sealing his lips and flood into his desperately flaring nostrils. Despite his fear and panic, he is still very erect, and visions of his lovely Aunt and her gorgeous sister frame every angry but useless struggle against this awful bondage. Yet despite this bizarre arousal, and maybe because of it, his sense of doom is even stronger.

***

The journey to Miss Lacey's Academy takes maybe another hour. During this time, poor Alan's struggles are whittled down to helpless, angry breathing through the fat, pungent gag and the odd futile attempt to strain against the straps holding him so tightly in place. Throughout the journey, he finds himself repeatedly recalling his naked, tethered struggles before his lovely, teasing Aunt. Aunt Holly: a woman he has always found it much easier to desire. Her confident, dominant manner has always intimidated; yet it has also secretly excited him. His erection is therefore still in full effect by the time the van suddenly slows and stops. There is the briefest pause and then, after a sharp left turn, the van is moving again, but this time down a much bumpier road. This second part of the journey takes maybe fifteen minutes. The quality of the road worsens and soon poor Alan is shaken uncomfortably in the leather restraints. Then, quite suddenly, the bouncing stops. The van now seems to be on a much smoother roadway, and after only a few minutes it stops again. The front doors are opened and then slammed shut. He hears voices. His heart pounding with terror, he squeals desperately into the gag. The rear doors are unlocked and afternoon sun light suddenly floods the rear compartment.

"Welcome to Miss Lacey's Academy for Young Ladies, Alice: your new home."

This is Miss Lord's voice. He hears her climb into the van and then feels her hands removing the straps. Then somebody else enters the van. As Miss Lord helps free Alan, it becomes clear the second person is Aunt Holly. And with her help, Miss Lord turns a numbed, stunned Alan over and the two women then carry him carefully from the van and into a large stone tiled forecourt which appears surrounded by a huge, ancient wood.

The two women then load him face down onto a leather-backed, hospital style trolley and use more leather straps to hold him in place. He is then wheeled towards a very large, very old house, which rises out of the wood like some strange creation of nature, a vast mansion designed in the Victorian Gothic style with a huge, arched entrance. And standing beneath this entrance he can see three figures.

As they move closer, Alan, now moaning fearfully into the gag, sees that the three figures are women, two dressed in very formal, dark business suits and one in a very striking French maid's uniform.

One of the women steps forward exactly as Alan is wheeled under the archway. She is a tall, very beautiful redhead, in her early 40s. Her emerald green eyes peer down at helpless, fearful and now deeply embarrassed Alan, eyes filled with a very unsettling hostility towards the rubberised youth.

"She is to be taken to room 20," the redheaded woman says, her clipped, Celtic voice failing to disguise her contempt for the expertly trussed male.

"Miss Wilding and Honey will deal with him from there.'

The striking woman then turns towards Aunt Holly. "Mistress Angeline would like to talk to you immediately."

The second suited woman, a smaller, plumper blonde then steps forward and takes control of the trolley. His Aunt and the redheaded woman then begin a whispered and clearly strained conversation. Miss Lord and the blonde, who Alan now realises is Miss Wilding, push Alan into the house, followed very closely by the beautiful, delicately mincing maid, whose own very pale blue eyes remain pinned with an intense fascination on Alan's tethered, rubberised form.

Soon they are in a huge hallway, and the sound of the women's high heels echo against the marble floor, striking up a sharp, percussive rhythm that fills the unfortunate youth with an even greater dread. He notices a huge winding staircase to his left, yet the two women, followed by the maid, carry him off down a secluded and very dark corridor, at the end of which appears to be a large black metal doorway. As they approach the door, it suddenly slides open to reveal an elevator car!

Amazed and appalled, Alan squeals fearfully into his fat panty gag as he is carried inside the car. The maid enters behind them and then uses one of her white satin-gloved fingers to press a button on a wall panel and the metal door slides shut. A sickening feeling grips Alan's stomach as the lift then suddenly begins a sharp descent.

They descend into this unknown abyss for only a few seconds before the car gently glides to a halt. The door slides open and he is wheeled out into a very bright, white walled corridor. Ahead, he can see the ceiling, along which runs a powerful white neon strip light. As he is pushed down the corridor, he also notices that the walls on either side of the corridor are lined with numbered pink doors.

Eventually, they arrive at room 20. His lovely bearers draw to a halt by the door and the maid minces forward to open it. Alan is then wheeled inside.

The room on the other side is surprisingly large. Each of the four walls is painted the same shade of pink as the door. A thick white carpet is spread across the floor. Against the nearest wall is a very large, very ornate white dressing table with a striking oval mirror. By the dressing table is a further, full sized mirror on a separate wooden stand, and next to the mirror is set of white wooden doors that seem to be the entrance to a walk-in closet. A little further down from the closet is another white door.

Along the far wall there are bookshelves filled with books and magazines and a few feet away from the shelves, there is an exercise bike. Just beyond the exercise bike is a single bed covered in beautiful white silk sheets. The only seat in the room is a pink leather backed stool placed beneath the dressing table.

Alan squeals as the women then release the leather straps and carry him over to the bed, where he is very carefully set down. His hot, flushed, tear stained cheeks press against the soft white silk sheets and his two bearers begin to remove the body bag. Soon, his sweat soaked and totally naked body is exposed to the relatively cool air of the room and a sense of infinite relief washes over him. Numb and aching all over, he is then pulled slowly to his bound feet and made to stand somewhat precariously in front of Miss Wilding.

"I am Miss Wilding," she announces, as Miss Lord, after exchanging a dark smile with her lovely colleague, leaves the room.

Miss Wilding's crystal blue eyes sparkle with a cruel amusement, her large, firm breasts rise and fall with a mixture of physical effort and a very obvious sexual arousal.

"I will be your personal tutor," she says, "and as such will be in overall charge of your feminisation."

His only response to this strange announcement is an angry squeal into the gag and an equally outraged shake of his head.

"This is Honey," Miss Wilding continues, turning to the lovely maid, who then minces forward and performs a deep curtsey before Alan. "She is a newly qualified Graduate Maid and will act as my assistant. She will also be your Sissy Mentor."

It is only now that Alan begins, almost helplessly, to study his captors in more detail. Miss Wilding is maybe 25, of medium height, with a pleasantly plump, yet very shapely figure. Like Miss Lord, she wears her hair in a tight bun. Her suit, which appears to be some kind of instructor's uniform, consists of a dark blue jacket, a white blouse and a matching, dark blue mini-skirt, which displays her surprisingly long and black hosed legs to perfection. Black patent leather, high-heeled court shoes add a final touch of formal glamour.

Miss Wilding's assistant, Honey, is younger, surely no more than eighteen. A tall, very buxom blonde, she is simply stunning. Her thick, very long hair has been tied in a pretty ponytail with a gleaming red silk ribbon and travels her perfectly shaped back down to the base of her spine. Her face is carefully and erotically made up. She has very long, curving eyebrows and equally long, helplessly fluttering eyelashes that perfectly complement her large blue eyes. Her full, pouting lips are painted a dark cherry red, which matches exactly her long glistening fingernails. Around her slender, pale neck is a simple, black velvet choker with a glistening emerald centrepiece. Her maid's dress is cut from the finest black silk and beautifully trimmed with expensive cream lace at the plunging neckline, long sleeves and very short skirt. Her large, pale rose breasts seem to be heaving with some considerable excitement beneath the tight folds of the dress, over which is positioned a lovely cream silk pinafore tied at her back in a huge bow. The very short skirt of the dress rests on a mountain of lace froufrou petticoating, out of which emerge two perfectly shaped and very long legs sheathed in seamed black nylons, which lead down to a pair of stiletto heeled, open toed mules.

Alan stares at her in amazement and his sex is soon very obviously responding to this tremendously sexy dream girl. Miss Lord giggles and Honey smiles shyly. Then her lovely blue eyes meet Alan's and he recognises an unmistakable look of desire.

"I'm glad you like Honey, Alice," Miss Wilding teases, suddenly stepping forward and grabbing Alan's exposed, erect sex, "because she's responsible for supervising all your dress and make up requirements, and for your body hygiene."

Alan squeals in horror as Miss Wilding's cool hand wraps around his sex. He struggles furiously, trying to pull himself free of Miss Wilding's tight, painful grasp. Her response to this resistance is to administer a very hard slap to his face and pull him forward by his tormented cock.

His ankles still tightly bound, his head spinning from the slap, he is forced to hop pathetically behind Miss Wilding. Honey then steps forward and opens the single white door just beyond the closet to reveal a small, pink tiled bathroom, which consists of a simple marble wash basin, a toilet and a glass-panelled shower unit. Above the washbasin is a very large, mirrored medicine cabinet. On the wall opposite the shower are rows of metal racks over which hang thick pink towels of various sizes.

He is pulled painfully into the centre of the bathroom. Miss Wilding then releases her terrible grip on his sex and turns to face him.

"You will learn that any form of resistance, however minor, will be severely punished. I will administer a more appropriate punishment later, but now Honey will prepare you for your meeting with Miss Lacey and the other senior staff."

With this, Miss Wilding turns and marches from the bathroom, her heels clicking against the gleaming tiled floor, Alan's eyes helplessly following her long, black hosed legs in their confident, sexy stride. Then he finds himself turning back to face the gorgeous spectacle of Honey. The lovely maid unleashes another helplessly sexy, shy smile and minces on her very high heels towards him.

"I better untie you, first, Alice."

Her voice is so sweet and gentle, the beautiful collision of a little girl's high pitched tones with the erotic cadence of a very sexy adult. Now he knows why she is called Honey.

As the gorgeous maid gently removes the bonds securing his body, he suddenly becomes acutely aware of his nakedness. For the first time since his arrival, embarrassment replaces fear and anger. As this beautiful young woman works his arms free, he blushes. As her large breasts press through the soft, teasing fabric of her beautiful, sexy dress against his back, he is overwhelmed with a bizarre mixture of

humiliation and sexual excitement. And rather than try to escape once his arms and ankles are untied, he shyly covers his stiff sex with his hands.

"I'm going to remove the gag," Honey says. "If you scream out or try to run away, I will call for a mistress and you will be caught and severely punished. Escape is impossible anyway. We are in a sealed underground chamber, and the door to your room is controlled by a digital lock. Also, as you may have noticed, you're naked."

He nods his understanding and Honey carefully pulls the thick strip of tape from his lips. She then pulls the panty gag from his mouth and he gasps with relief. She smiles and drops the panties and tape into a plastic bin under the washbasin.

He says nothing as she then orders him to step into the shower. Indeed, he finds himself quite meekly obeying her, his hands still covering his erection, his face covered in a hood of embarrassed crimson. For now, he can see little point in resisting. Also, this beautiful girl has a manner about her that very easily dilutes any thought of resistance.

"Use this to wash," she says, handing him a plastic bottle containing a pink coloured liquid. "Cover every inch of your body, including your face, pubes, under arms and between your buttocks. But don't, under any circumstance, put it on your hair or get it in your eyes."

She leans forward and turns the shower controller clockwise. A gentle stream of warm water splashes against his naked body and, after a moment's hesitation, he pours a puddle of the pink liquid into his hands and begins to rub it carefully over his body. Soon he has worked up a thick lather and, as ordered, proceeds to cover every inch of his body, including his pubes and between his legs. He then stands under the shower and lets the water wash away the thick, pink lather. As it does so, something totally unexpected happens: the thin layers of hair on his chest, arms and legs are washed away as well, and so, to his horror, is his pubic hair! Indeed, within a few very deeply disturbing seconds, Alan's body is completely hair free. Suddenly, his body is as silky smooth as a newborn baby's, the only memory of his body hair a strange, yet not unpleasant tingling sensation.

Amazed, he turns towards Honey. "What's happened? Where's all my hair gone?"

"Be quiet," Honey snaps. "Now wash your face as ordered and then use the soap in the dish to wash away any lingering cream."

Despite his astonishment, he follows her instructions, quickly discovering that the bar of gold coloured soap gives off a very powerful feminine scent that only serves to increase his sense of humiliation and general emasculation. Yet despite this and despite the fact that every hair on his body and face have now been removed, he remains quite fiercely erect.

Once his body has been thoroughly soaped and soaked, he is given a small glass bottle and told to use the blue liquid within it to wash his hair. When his hair had been washed and rinsed, he is ordered to step from the shower. Sweet scented water trickling down his smooth, hairless body, poor Alan does as Honey instructs. The lovely maid then takes a large pink towel from one of the metal racks and wraps it tightly around his body. She then begins very gently to dry his body, her eyes darting shyly between the task in front of her and Alan's crimson face. As her hands massage him through the thick towel fabric, his eyes are drawn helplessly towards her splendid breasts. The maid's dress has been designed with a particularly plunging neckline and as Honey dries her charge, Alan receives a very fine view of these splendid pale rose orbs.

"You're very beautiful," he mumbles, helplessly brave words that seem to escape his mouth against his will.

She smiles briefly, girlishly, obviously delighted. "You mustn't talk, Alice. No maid can talk without a mistresses permission."

"But you're talking."

"As a mentor, I am allowed the privilege of free speech, but only with my charge. And you must obey me. Now be quiet or I will gag you."

He obeys her, even as her long, elegant hands reach the part of the towel covering his rigid sex, and even as she quite deliberately caresses his sex through the towel.

"You've got a very big cock, Alice. But Mistress Holly tells me you've probably never used it."

As she teases him with these words, he fights to keep silent, despite the waves of anger and sexual hunger that crash over his body.

The towel is then removed in one swift, cruel gesture and, naked once again, he is led from the bathroom and back into the main bedroom area. Here he is made to stand before the closet doors and watch as Honey takes from inside a bizarre and disturbing collection of feminine attire, laying each item out carefully on the bed with an aroused smile.

His eyes flash between the clothes and Honey, eyes stretched wide by the terrible implications of the clothes and the incredible sexual beauty of this perfect maid.

"You will begin, as we all begin, as a Novice Maid. And this will be your uniform."

He looks at the clothes and then at Honey.

"Wear this? You expect me to wear this!?" his voice rises, anger flooding his eyes, and he steps away from the bed.

"Of course," Honey replies sternly. "This is why you're here: To be feminised and trained as a maidservant! To become Alice! You have no choice. Now be quiet and put your hands behind your back."

It is really only now that he knows her words are terribly, painfully true: He has no choice. He is naked, he is trapped in some kind of underground chamber, his mother has allowed him to be brought here against his will. Tears return to his eyes and he places his hands behind his back.

"The first lesson for a Novice is restraint," Honey says, mincing from the bed to the dressing table. "You will not be expected to control your male desire: the mistresses know this is impossible. But you will be constantly restrained by order of the mistresses and you will learn to function as an obedient servant while restrained. Then, over time, your desire itself will become the most effective weapon of restraint."

From the dressing table, she takes a very sheer, black nylon stocking. She then wiggles back towards him, her lovely blue eyes filled with a wicked amusement, her hands carefully bunching the stocking into a ball, her steps tiny and quick, her large breasts bouncing with great enthusiasm. His eyes dart with a mixture of fear and arousal between the stocking and her breasts, and they widen considerably as draws up before him, steps forward and then carefully begins to roll the soft, scented stocking over his rock hard sex. Moans of helpless pleasure escape from his mouth as the stocking is eased gently along the hot, rigid shaft. As she slides the stocking down over his testicles and pulls it tightly into place, her eyes lock onto his and her lovely cherry red lips curve into the sweetest and sexiest of smiles.

"It's nice, isn't it? We all have to wear sex stockings. Miss Lacey sees it as the most potent symbol of our feminisation."

Her words take a while to sink in. Wiggling in a state of intense physical pleasure, it is only as she ties the stocking in place around his testicles with a pink silk ribbon that the words, "We all have to wear sex stockings," set off alarm bells in his tortured mind.

"We?" he gasps. "What do you mean 'we'?"

"Miss Lacey's maids, the she-males. You, me... all of us."

He steps back instinctively. A look of shock replaces the hungry gaze. "You? You're a... male?"

"Of course, silly! I'm a Graduate maid, in the final stage of my training. I'm to be returned home at the end of this quarter. You're my novice charge. I have to supervise the Novice stage of a feminisation successfully before I leave; and that's you."

Honey's smile then broadens. "You thought I was a real girl, didn't you! That makes me feel so good, Alice: to know I can pass so easily."

"But you are so... real. I mean, your... your... "

His eyes fall onto her gorgeous breasts and Honey laughs even louder.

"Part of the treatment is a fundamental physical alteration,' she says, restraining her intense amusement. 'I have all the outward physical traits of a woman, except one. We're all on a constant diet of hormone pills and injections. I've also undergone, as you will undergo, quite significant plastic surgery. This normally happens at the end of the Novice Stage."

His erection is suddenly dead, the stocking now an absurdly drooping piece of nylon between his silky smooth legs. Honey is a boy, a beautiful, sexy she-boy. She is also the mirror through which his feminine future is suddenly, shockingly revealed.

"Now, enough chat. I want you to spread your legs wide apart and bend over."

Tears return to his eyes, yet he obeys, spreading his legs wide and then bending forward, pressing the clammy palms of his hands into the soft white carpet and exposing himself in the most intimate of ways to this stunning she-male beauty, a creature who, to his deep unease, he still finds incredibly attractive.

Once he is in the required position, there is a brief pause. Then, to his even greater horror, something hard and sticky is being pushed into his backside! Panicking, he tries to push himself up, but a hand suddenly lodges itself in his lower back, a strong hand that holds him firmly in this terribly exposed and helpless position.

"Just relax, Alice. It'll hurt a bit at first, but you'll soon get used to it. We all do."

But he can't relax. How can he! Here he is, stripped naked, in the hands of a beautiful she-male, undergoing a most intimate and outrageous violation.

The object is long and curved and seems especially designed to penetrate deep into his back passage. At first, as Honey predicted, its progress is slow and painful and he yelps as Honey pushes it deeper.

"Every maid must wear a stocking, and every maid must be fitted with an anal plug. At each stage of your training, the size of the plug will be increased."

Alan listens to these dreadful words and wants to scream out his disgust and horror. But what good will it do him? There is nowhere to run, no one to ask for help. He has been sentenced to this by his own stupidity and, more importantly, by his own mother. Yet even as he despairs, he knows deep down there is another terrible, simple reason why he was not fighting harder: this whole bizarre adventure is exciting him! And as Honey pushes the plug home, his erection begins, once again, to fill the teasing nylon folds of the stocking. And by the time he is helped upright, his stockinged sex stands before him like a terrible confession of the darkest masochistic desire.

Honey looks down at his re-born erection and smiles. "The plug tends to have that effect."

He blushes furiously, but cannot disagree. As his buttocks tighten around the plug and push it a little deeper, he feels a sudden, very intense pleasure and his sex strains a little harder against its sweet nylon prison.

"Remember, Alice," Honey says, smiling, her lovely eyes betraying her own arousal, "restraint."

She then minces back to the dressing table and takes from within it a strange metal device consisting of two metal rings connected by a slender silver bar. Returning to her charge, she clicks open the rings and then, to Alan's continuing horror, takes his straining, stockinged erection in her free hand. He gasps and fights another bout of tears, watching in helpless horror as Honey slides the opened rings over the rigid shaft of his sex and very carefully clicks them shut, thus locking his sex tightly and rather painfully in this very odd device.

"A double cock ring re-strainer," Honey informs. "It makes orgasm or any form of masturbation impossible. It also ensures that an erection is a very uncomfortable experience. Unfortunately, you will probably be erect a great deal. But this too is quite deliberate: to be erect is to be under the most intense discipline."

Sure enough, poor Alan soon discovers that the pain, a considerable irritation rather than real pain, does not lessen. And with the constant caress of the plug, it is very unlikely to!

"Now we can dress you," Honey continues.

She minces over to the bed. Alan's studies the erotic lines of her perfectly shaped, black nylon sheathed legs with eyes that know the truth yet can still only see a fantastically sexy, beautiful young woman.

"We'll start with the training corselette; the fundamental undergarment of the Novice maid."

From the bed, Honey picks up what looks like a white basque. Yet it has shoulder straps and a panty section. Alan also notices that its bra cups are padded in some way and that more padding seems to have been added to the hip sections. He also notices that the corsellette has two white satin panels built into the sides and the lacing of a conventional corset sown into its back.

Honey then returns to her poor, sex confused charge and holds the corsellette before him.

"Step into it," she says, parting the two surprisingly thin shoulder straps.

Alan does as ordered, gingerly placing his left foot into the corselette and through the matching, heavily frilled leg section at the bottom. He then repeats this process carefully with his right foot and Honey proceeds to pull the corselette up over his body. The elastane material that makes up the basic fabric of the corselette is very soft, yet also very tight, and he finds his torso is quickly and tautly restrained. Honey then draws the straps up his arms and positions them over his shoulders. As she does so, he immediately notices the weight associated with padded bra pull at his chest. This part of the corselette is padded to give the impression of a rather considerable bosom, and he immediately experiences a strange sense of being drawn towards the floor.

"The rubber tits take some getting used to," Honey comments, her teasing smile lighting up her gorgeous face. "You'll be shown a special back strengthening exercise in deportment class to help deal with them."

As the corselette is positioned, he looks down to see how his painfully restrained but still rampant sex is outlined against this tight, strangely erotic material. But what he sees is nothing! He gasps in surprise and Honey bursts into girlish laughter. Satisfied with the straps, she steps in front of him and points at the panty area.

"The panty is carefully padded at the hips and crotch area with a special foam. It gives you the shape of a woman and also hides your sex. And as you can see, it has a special opening for those little emergencies."

As she speaks, she leans forward and runs a hand along a row of pearl buttons that cross his lower stomach. It is clear this row mark out a flap, which can be pulled free to expose his restrained sex.

Honey then minces back behind him and takes up the loose ends of the satin ribbons criss-crossing the back of the corselette. She pulls very tightly on the ribbons and the mid-section suddenly contracts around his waist and upper chest, forcing the air from his lungs and his artificial chest to jut forward. The tightening of the corset section also immediately improves his posture, making him stand bolt upright.

"The corselette is an amazing creation. It fulfils the function of virtually every item of feminine foundation wear, and also creates the perfect she-male form."

"Will my real breasts will they be this big?" Alan asks, still amazed by the strange but now far from unpleasant sensations inspired by the padded bra.

"It all depends on what the person who sent you here asked for. Mummy was very keen for me to have the biggest boobies my body structure could take, to help me truly understand what it felt like to be a woman. Most of the maids end up with very big boobs."

As Honey speaks, poor Alan can't help become excited, and as he does, the dreadful effect of the re-strainer becomes terribly apparent and he releases a gasp and wiggle of discomfort.

"I can see all this is turning you on, Alice. That's a very good sign."

As Honey teases him, she minces back to the closet and soon returns with a new bundle of ultra-feminine clothing. This is placed on the bed before Alan's fascinated and appalled eyes. She then takes up a pair of very sheer, cream coloured tights and holds them before him.

"I'm sure you'll love the feel of sheer hose against your smooth, hairless skin."

Under her instruction, he then sits on the bed and watches as she carefully rolls the tights up into two soft nylon bowls and slips them over his feet. He is then told to stand and guide the tights up his legs. He takes the delicate, sensual fabric in his hands and fearfully pulls it upward, a leg at a time. The sensations imparted by the sheer nylon fabric as it covers his freshly denuded legs are, as Honey has promised, intensely pleasurable. Not only that, but as he pulls the tights up over his thighs and around his tightly restricted waist, he notices the tremendous effect they seem to have on the shape of his legs. Suddenly he is staring at the long, curvy legs of a young woman and, to his amazement, he is intensely aroused.

The tights are followed by a pair of incredibly frilly, white silk panties, which Honey positions around her charge's hosed waist with a naughty little smile.

"You look fabulous already, Alice," she teases, her eyes filled with an obvious sexual excitement. "I can't wait to see you fully dressed. But first, let's get you made up."

Alan, now lost in a whirlpool of contradictory feelings and emotions, is led across the bedroom to the dressing table. As he moves, he becomes immediately aware of the intrusive but far from unpleasant effect of the anal plug. Suddenly waves of very powerful physical pleasure are traversing his lower body and forcing his erection to protest even more painfully against its wicked re-strainer. The effect of the soft nylon caressing his thighs as they brush together is also undeniably exciting, and as he is placed on the leather-backed stool before the dressing table's large oval mirror, he is forced to stifle yet another moan of pleasure.

The face that stares back at him from this mirror is very obviously his own, yet beneath it is a body he doesn't recognise. The well-padded corselette has an amazing and very immediate transformative effect, and as he beholds this strange reflection, a surprisingly powerful sense of femininity seizes him, a sense that is quickly and disturbingly increased as the lovely Honey, her eyes ignited by an obvious and deeply worrying sexual attraction, begins to apply make up to Alan's ambiguously pretty face.

He can only watch with helplessly fascinated eyes as Honey applies a coating of tan foundation cream to his slender face, followed by a light blue eye shadow, then eyebrow highlighter, peach coloured rouge (daintily applied with a huge pink powder puff) and, finally, a blood red lipstick, which she glides ever so very gently across his effeminate mouth. And as Honey carefully works on his face, her stunning, delicately scented body so close, he feels his poor, tormented sex strain even harder against the intricate re-strainer and the layers of soft, teasing feminine underwear.

"Eventually," Honey says, "you'll be required to do this yourself, and to a very high standard. You will receive very detailed training in make up technique, so it should eventually become second nature."

After completing the make up, she takes up an ivory handled hairbrush and begins to tease his long auburn coloured hair into a sculpture of particularly feminine locks. As she does so, poor Alan's heart sinks, for the reflection he now faces is a terrible revelation: in just a few minutes, Honey has transformed him from an undoubtedly attractive male into a very pretty female, a brown eyed beauty with thick, wavy hair and soft, helplessly pouting lips, with soft, curving cheeks and a long, swan's neck. The sense of despair this brings is made much worse by the sense of a deeper, darker excitement.: despite all his apparent resistance, there is clearly something lodged in the core of his personality that finds this forced feminisation highly erotic!

And even Honey is very impressed by the success of her first efforts.

"Well, Alice, you really are very pretty! No wonder your mummy wanted you put into panties and hose."

In her soft voice there is pure sexual intent and in her lovely pale blue eyes there is intense desire. And, to his horror, the deeper feminine self that is now emerging from this strange transformation seems to find Honey's attentions very exciting.

Alan is helped from the seat and led back to the bed, each step a sexual torment induced by the wicked anal plug and the counter efforts of the terrible re-strainer. He is then made to stand by the bed while Honey minces over to the closet. She returns a few seconds later carrying a beautiful pink dress. This she holds before her charge with a sexually charged and deeply amused smile.

The dress is made from pure silk, an elaborate baby girl's hot pink frock with puffed sleeves, a very high collar and thick lace fringes at the neck, sleeves and very short hem. Attached to the bottom of the skirt area is a sea of lace froufrou petticoating.

Alan watches in astonishment and undeniable arousal as Honey carefully loosens the pearl buttons that run the entire length of the back panel and then steps forward, the dress held out before her.

"Hold your arms up and slide them into the dress," she orders, gently pulling the gorgeous sissy frock over his shaking hands as he warily obeys.

He is immediately submerged in a sea of the softest silk and gasps with a sudden, fetishistic pleasure. The dress is drawn very slowly over his slender body and carefully pulled into place. As Honey secures the back panel buttons, poor Alan releases a helpless moan of absolute defeat, a moan made worse by the fact that the dress is a perfect fit. He also notices that it is extremely short, its petticoated skirt barely reaching the tops of his hosed thighs. It is also very tight around the waist and covers his expertly padded chest like a second skin. The frilled sleeves brush against his thin, girlish wrists and the lace frills of the high neck tickle his dimpled chin.

Yet this is only the beginning. For a few seconds after securing the dress, Honey produces a gorgeous white silk pinafore, which she proceeds to slip over the dress and secure tightly in a very fat bow at the base of his spine, immediately giving him the appearance of a very sissy maid. And as if this wasn't enough, a pair of cream glace gloves are then stretched tightly over his hands and buttoned firmly into place.

Then, after this spectacular and soul destroying dressing, Honey produces a bright red box from beneath the bed and offers it to Alan.

"Open it," she says, her voice filled with teasing expectation.

He obeys and finds himself looking down a pair of beautiful pink, patent leather ankle boots with frighteningly high stiletto heels and thick silk ribbon laces. Honey tells him to remove the shoes from the box and sit on the bed. She then gently takes the shoes from his hands and carefully kneels before him, a strange and beautiful gesture of elegant sissy submission. She then slips the incredible shoes over his delicately hosed feet. As she tightly laces up the shoes, he fights a sense of almost transcendent physical excitement. There is now no way he can resist the simple fact that he is thoroughly aroused by this forced feminisation and that a deep core of masochism and fetishism has been revealed by its strange progress.

Satisfied that the shoes are secured, Honey delicately rises to her own high-heeled feet and takes her charge by the hand. Encouraged by Honey, Alan steps fearfully onto his beautifully attired feet. Almost immediately, he is elevated an extra five inches into the air and a terrible sense of panic washes over him as he sways precariously before his gorgeous she-male captor.

"Relax, Alice. Let the heels find their own point of balance. Don't fight them."

Alan tries to follow these rather obscure instructions as Honey takes one of his gloved hands and leads him forward. Moaning fearfully, he totters towards her, the heels turning his walk into an embarrassing ultra-sissy mince that make his be-frilled buttocks sway with a helpless provocation and seem to push the anal plug even deeper into his backside. Yet even after just a few seconds, he finds himself becoming more comfortable with the shoes and beginning to understand the careful, delicate mince that is demanded by them. Within ten minutes, he is mincing with some ease before a clearly impressed Honey.

"You're a natural, Alice! Well done!!"

And, to his amazement, her words fill him with a deeply perverse, contradictory pride. But this pride quickly disappears when Honey returns to the dressing table and takes from within its many drawers two lengths of pink silk ribbon and a very large, pink rubber ball gag.

"Now that you're ready to meet Mistress Angeline, we just need to secure you for the journey to her office."

His eyes widen with fear and outrage as Honey orders him to open his pretty mouth wide and then quickly fills it with the fat ball, securing the gag tightly in place at the back of his neck using the white leather straps attached to the curved sides. He moans angrily into this mouth-filling monstrosity as his arms are then pulled behind his back and tied very tightly together at the wrists and elbows. Yet even this humiliating bondage is not the end. For as soon as he is securely bound and gagged, Honey produces a thick white leather collar, which she proceeds to secure around his silk encased neck. She then attaches a long, silver link chain leash to a metal hook built into the front of the collar and tugs playfully upon it, causing poor Alan to totter forward desperately.

The hapless captive is then led by his beautiful tormentor back to the full-length mirror and cruelly paraded before it. Alan finds himself staring at a genuinely beautiful young woman wrapped in a startling baby maid's costume, her honey brown eyes wide with fear and arousal, her long, very shapely legs balancing precariously in the high heeled boots, her well padded chest rising and falling desperately against the tight material of the splendid dress.

"You're one of the best we've had for a long time, Alice. How did you ever manage to pass as a boy?"

Honey's question has a terrible ring of truth. He stares at his reflection and wonders how this gorgeous sissy creature, this bound and gagged and very beautiful damsel in distress could ever have truly been a male. Alan disappears before his astounded eyes and Alice is well and truly born. Indeed, he is now having difficulty perceiving anything about this startling image as Alan. She is most surely Alice. And as Honey leads her out of the room and into the corridor to meet the mysterious Angeline Lacey, out into a new and most bizarre life, as she wiggle minces behind this sexy she-male so convincingly, her mother's words return to haunt her: yes, perhaps it is for her own good, perhaps she will be far happier as Alice.

   

   

   

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