Showing posts with label shemale. Show all posts
Showing posts with label shemale. Show all posts

Fantasy: Bad Influence

I meet a girl, the most gorgeous, sexiest woman I've ever seen.  It turns out that she's actually a shemale!  We dated for months until she finally let me touch her crotch.  I'm thoroughly amazed.  I'm too nice a guy to be disgusted.  She knew I would be shocked, because she knows how incredibly feminine she is.  I've made out with her dozens of times.  I've sucked her nipples.  She has sucked my cock, and swallowed my semen.  Now that I've got her willing, and since 95% of her is stunningly gorgeously female, I decide to pretend that she's not a man.  I fuck her in the ass first.  But she wants more.  She makes me reach around and rub her big fat cock.  I pretend it's my own.  Before I know it, we're doing it missionary style, and her cock rubs against my belly.  She flips me around, so that she's sitting on top of me.  I caress her beautiful boobs, and her perfectly proportioned waist.  I fondle the belly-button ring.  She moves up and shoves her cock in my face!  I'm so turned on by her body that I comply, thinking, my god, this is the first time I've ever had a cock in my mouth!  She comes in my mouth, and I spit it out – not out of disgust, but out of surprise.  All this time, of course, my penis has been untouched.  It is desperate for some action.  I am still captivated by her figure, and her breasts.  And her semen all over my face.  I slide her back down off my chest to my crotch, and fuck her again for a bit.  My hand is on her cock.  She asks me if I'm grossed out by her penis.  I tell her, truthfully, that it sorta turns me on, even though I love her femininity above all else.  She asks me if she can fuck me, and not understanding, I say yes.  She turns me over roughly, and I clue in.  I interrupt her, and she begins to pout, but I don't stop her – I reposition myself so I can see her behind me by looking in the closet mirror.  I beg her to fuck me.  All I can see is her titties bouncing up and down and the look of ecstasy on her face.  It hurts at first, but it's such a turn-on that I get used to it, and start to enjoy it.  A lot.  I have her stop for a second and turn 90 degrees so I can see from a different angle.  Now I can see her cock ramming me in the ass, and it feels even better.  She reaches around and jerks me off half-heartedly, concentrating on her own pleasure.  I come hard when I feel her pumping her semen inside me, savouring the thought that I am her bitch, even as her beautiful, slender, feminine fingers caress my dick.  I feel so naughty about losing my virginity that it turns me on, but we're both so tired and spent that we can no longer continue.  She cuddles up against me, her cock against my thigh, and we both fall asleep.

We talk about these confusing events in the morning.  It turns out that she, as a young boy, had decided long ago that she would rather be a girl.  She has tried very hard ever since her mid-teens to make herself as feminine as possible.  I am amazed by the overwhelming magnitude of her success.  She looks like a supermodel in a bikini, and in lingerie.  She has the whole world fooled.

Still, I have misgivings about the situation.  I make them clear.  I don't want to be a homosexual.  She promises me that she will have surgery correcting that last little problem as soon as she can afford it (she's been saving for years).  But when she starts getting dressed, I become incredibly aroused.  I snap the elastic on her panties as I admire her cute little girly ass.  Before we know it, we're fucking again.  I am very confused about my feelings about her penis.  Part of me wishes very much that she had a pussy, like other girls; but part of me is very intrigued about how a boy can turn himself into a female sex goddess; and of course there's that last little part of me that's terribly excited about tasting cock and feeling it in my ass.

We stay together, and we have mind-blowing sex.  What turns me on so much about her is her transfermation.  I grill her about what she was like before she was a girl.  She talks reluctantly about her unhappy boyhood, and the dificulties of asserting her femininity through puberty.  It turns me on so much to think that this perfect piece of female ass that other guys ogle at and are envious of actually is a man.  I try to imagine what it must feel like to wear the things she wears.  I ask her, and she gushes about it.  How liberating it is.  How sexy it feels. 

I ask her what would happen to me if I ever wore women's clothes.  She says probably nothing.  Anyway, she says, she likes me all butchy and manly, so she doesn't care for it.  How manly can I be, I ask, if I'm sucking and fucking cock on a regular basis.  She blushes, and says nothing.

I start to envy her her wardrobe.  I think to myself, that could be me in those fishnet stockings, fuck-me boots, and little black dress.  I start trying things on, just for fun.  I try to include her, but she doesn't like playing dress-up with me.  So it becomes my secret.  I get my own panties and bikinis and lingerie.  Eventually, she finds out.  We slowly break up over it. 

Now I realize how fucked I am.  I realize that I'm still incredibly attracted to pussy, but that I really love the idea of Andrea.  I love the thought that I can become just as feminine as her.  Nothing turns me on more than that.  I date some women, and steal their underwear every now and then.  It never lasts long, because they either find out about my fetish, or I feel trapped when I can't make myself girly.  So Andrea comes back into my life.

She is just as disappointed in my girlish habits as any normal woman, but she can't be disgusted, because she does it herself.  I am still incredibly aroused by her, but she can't even use her decrepit dick anymore, because of all the hormones.  I am not in love with her anymore, either, so we get along.  I meet her sister, who guided her through her own effemination.  Together, they teach me.  This is how I learn that I can become ultra-feminine too, by taking on a female persona, and wearing nothing but female sexwear at all times.

It's difficult at first, but practice makes perfect.  The first few weeks are all about discovery.  I wear the skankiest clothes, and I do so in public.  At first, I'm hideous, but with a lot of work, can look pretty feminine.  I start hanging around in gay areas, because those are the only places where I can feel safe.  I start meeting other men, and can't resist the taste of cock.  I am now in Andrea's place.

A few years later, I am even more feminine.  My tits are bursting out of my bra, and I can't get enough cock.  But the best part is that my own penis is completely gone: I have a pussy!  And it's all natural!  I've transformed my body not with chemicals or surgery, but with sheer willpower!  And I love my new body!



Fantasy: Converted

You've seen all sorts of pictures.  You've spent countless hours busily downloading them.  You stare for hours at them in various men's magazines.  You know exactly what you like: shapely girls in bikini-style panties, shiny like metal, or like glistening skin; round, pendulous boobs, restrained in sheer black lace; long, lustrous legs lovingly covered in fishnet stockings, starting at mid-thigh and ending at open-toed heels; waves of long, tousled hair tumbling upon slender, bare shoulders; I could go on.  Just imagine if you could ever touch something so exquisitely feminine.  What would you do?  Where would you start?

I'll tell you what would happen if you found yourself with one of these fantasy girls from your precious pictures.  Just think: she's posing, just for you, in the same outfit as in the photo.  You forget, but she's used to better men pawing all over her.  You'd try to put your hand on her waist first.  Maybe touch her thigh.  You're overwhelmed by her inhuman femininity.  She lets you get so far, but then gently pushes your hand away with a girlish giggle.  And you try again.  You're reaching for her panties.  She slaps your hand away.  "My clothes stay on… for now," she says.

She can tell how desperate you are for a piece of her.  That's why she's not giving you anything.  Just letting you look, and maybe allowing you a little feel here and there to keep your hopes up.  You'd do anything right now if she allowed you to simply caress her waist, her knee, her shoulder, or anything at all, with your hand.  But she won't let you.

Some men might resort to violence in such a situation.  Rush over and grab her.  What can she do?  Pick her up, throw her onto the bed, and rip off all her clothes.  But you would never dream of doing such a thing to one so perfectly, divinely feminine.  You are worshipping at the altar of femininity.  You dare not defile it.  You dare not contravene her will.

She struts around the room.  You are hers.  You want to be hers.  You relish every moment that she tortures you.  You drink up her every gorgeous curve, and clamour for more.  And she's hardly let you touch her yet!  Better still, she hasn't taken anything off!  The anticipation is killing you.  You need to touch her just like you need your next furtive breath.

Now she approaches you.  She lets you caress her hips.  She kisses you.  You can smell not just her perfume, but the scent of her naked skin.  The faint odour nearly knocks you unconscious.  You mould your body against hers and keep your eyes open as your tongue meets hers.  She closes her eyes.  You fondle the waistband of her panties, but she takes her arms from around your neck and moves your hand away, grinning.  "Not yet."

She places your hands back on her hips, and turns around.  She lets you admire her waist, her hips, and her butt before she slowly leans back against you, rubbing her beautiful, round buttock against your dick.  She gyrates her hips back and forth, and sends you into a fit of ecstasy.  One hand fondles her hip, her butt, her thigh, and back up as she moves; the other her other hip, her waist, her breast and back down. 

She is amazing.  You reach for her panty waist and start pulling down, but she stops you.  She turns around and playfully shakes a finger at you.  "You're bad!" she admonishes.  But now she continues her little dance while facing you.  She moves forward against you for a brief moment, and your member touches her sanctum sanctotum against both your clothes.  But she slowly dances away.

"You need to get naked," she says.  You immediately obey.  You stand naked in front of the avatar of the Goddess, who still wears her scanty little outfit.  She looks at your throbbing erection and says, "I know what you want.  You want this."  She gestures at her body, knowing it to be worth more to you than everything on Earth.  "But I need to know," she says, "just how far you'll go to have it."

"I'll do anything," you answer, meaning it.

"Anything?"

"Yes, anything!"

You know you've just sold your soul to the devil.  But you don't care.  It's worth it.

She sashays back to you with a demonic grin.  "Well, then," she says, huskily, "Let's begin."

She grabs your cock and whispers into your ear, "I know what your deepest fantasy is, even if you don't."  She sits you down on the bed and straddles you.  You can feel the roughness of her fishnet stockings on your sides – then, the excruciating softness of her panty-clad pussy against your dick.  You grab her by the ass and hump away greedily.  She pushes you down and gyrates obligingly.  

"Do you love me?" she asks.

"Of course I do!" you reply, humping her madly as she sits on top of you.

"Do you worship me?"

"Yes!"

"You'll do anything I ask?"

"Yes!"

"Then STOP!  NOW!" she screams.  And you stop – not because she said so but because of the shrillness of her ear-piercing command.

She gets up from on top of you.  "Good.  Very good," she says.  "I'm almost convinced."

She sits you back up, and drags you to the middle of the bed.  She lies on her back, and drags you back on top of her.  She kicks off her shoes.  She grabs you by the ass and makes you come all over her belly.  And she's not even naked!

"That was a bit premature, wasn't it?  But you're ready for more, aren't you?"

And you are.  You desperately want to fuck her now. 

"Here, lick this off.  I don't want this mess all over me."

And you do.  You don't even hesitate.  You're lapping up your own semen from her belly and the front of her panties, because you just want to taste her skin.  Her belly is so infused with girlishness that you'd eat anything off of it just to put your lips to it. 

Before you know it, she's had you remove her panties, and you're licking her glorious pussy.  Her perfect, slender, fishnet-clad legs are on your shoulders.  After she comes, she doesn't let you stop.  She takes off her bra, then pulls you up to her by the hair.  She lets you fumble around a bit before she guides your stiff cock into her dripping wet cunt. 

My God!  Do you ever love it!  She's bucking like a bronco, and you're struggling to keep up.  You grab her nipples, her ass, her clit, her hair, her thigh, her waist, her shoulder, and all you can think is: girl, girl, girl, girl, girl, girl, girl, girl girl girl girl GIRL!  You want to come a million times.  You never want to take her hands off of her.  You want to explore her forever.  You want to flip her around so you can admire her from every angle.  She lets you.

"I know what you're thinking," she says as you fuck her pretty brains out.  You've come at least fifteen times by now, and you're only getting hornier.  "You can't get enough of me, can you?"

"No!" you pant, "I can't!"

"You want to touch me forever, don't you?  You don't ever want to let go of my girlie bits, do you?"

"Yes!  No I don't!"

"Well I hate to break it to you, but I'm done for tonight."

"Please!  I need more!"  You continue to fuck her frantically, clutching her tighter so she can't move away.  But she's not trying; she's still meeting your every stroke with her own enthusiastic rhythm.

"I know.  I have a solution for you."

"What's that?"

"What better way to eternally explore the female body than by becoming a girl?"

"What do you mean?!?" you cry, as your heart begins to pound with dread and excitement, your pelvis desperately keeping time.

"Think about it: if you were a girl…"

You're fucking her really hard now, but her voice is mesmerizing.

"You'd get to look at girl thighs…"

You moan as you look at her thighs, still clad in those ultra-sexy stockings.

"…Girl boobs…"

You realize that she's been fondling your nipple ever since you moved her hand there five minutes ago.

"…Girl waist…"

You prop yourself up on your hands, pounding harder still, and picture the slenderness of her waist on your own body, and just below that…

"…Girl ass…"

The picture is vivid in your mind.  Oh…

"…Girl pussy…"

My…

"…Girl everything…"

GODDESS!

"…all the time!"

Your body convulses violently.  You feel like you're having a heart attack.  The pain in your crotch is excruciating.

"You'd get to touch girl non-stop for the rest of your life!"

Your skin tingles all over your body.  You expect to withdraw from her and gape in horror at your own moist, tender pussy where your mighty penis once stood.  This orgasm intensifies tenfold and reverberates throughout your entire body with this epiphany.

"And just think…"

You are shaking yourself loose from her, even as your climax continues, as you picture your now curvaceous body trembling as femininely as hers.

"You'll even get to use your pussy!"

"No!" you scream, at the top of your lungs, shrilly, like a woman, as you realize that you crave a huge, erect penis inside your cunt, even more desperately than you wanted your own penis inside hers. 

"That's right!  You get to fuck like a girl, too!"

What you thought was your climax a moment ago pales in comparison to the unbearable pleasure emanating from your crotch, and drowning your entire body.  In your mind, you are her.  You picture yourself as her from the very beginning, teasing, sashaying, dancing, and especially fucking.  You long to taste another man's semen in your mouth.  You deeply regret not having savoured your own when you ate it off of her belly. 

"You'll even get to wear garter belts, stockings, lace, bikinis…"

Ali Landry
Your transformation is complete.  You laugh huskily and girlishly as you contemplate the excitement of picking out your new wardrobe.  Your body quivers whenever you imagine yourself in some pair of white lace panties you saw Heidi Klum wearing in a Victoria's Secret catalogue; or a brightly coloured string bikini like the one Ali Landry wore in that picture you used to salivate over; or the very outfit that she seduced you with what seems now like centuries ago.  "Yes!" you whisper, "fishnets!"

Then, an hour later, you come down at last, when you suddenly realize that you are covered in semen, and that your hand is fondling your softening penis. 

You have not become a girl, as you had hoped.

"So what do you say?  Sound like a good idea?"

She's been sitting in a chair across the room, waiting for you to come back to Earth.  You can't remember if this was some weird dream, or if she really did fuck you, and convince you to betray your own gender forever and become female.  She is naked, and still terrifyingly beautiful.  "What do you mean?" you sputter, shaking the cobwebs from your wet dream.

"You know exactly what I mean.  Get dressed."

You are confused.  Your first instinct is to reach for your pants, but the idea fills you with some inexplicable dread.  You drop your pants back on the floor, perplexed.

"Is something wrong," she asks, pointedly.

"I… I have no clothes," you answer uncertainly.

"What about those pants, silly?"  She plays coy.  You glance at her, and take in that gorgeous smile of hers, and how sexy her butt is, and how you long for it once more.

"I can't wear those," you answer confidently.  "Can I borrow something of yours?"

"Like what?" she replies, taken aback.

"Well, can we start with some underwear?" you retort.  You don't feel like playing games anymore.

"I don't have any men's underwear, silly.  You can't wear mine."

You start to wonder if you're losing your mind.  You figure that she must be testing you.

"Can I please?"

"What?"

"Please, can I wear your underwear?"

"You can't wear women's underwear.  You're a man.  Put on your pants."

"I don't want to be a man.  I want to be a girl."  You blush as you say it.  "I want to be a girl, and I want to wear girlie clothes."

"Are you fucking serious?  After the night we had last night?  This isn't funny."

"I am serious.  Don't mess with my head.  You convinced me last night that the best way for me to love you is to become you.  Don't pretend it didn't happen."

"Come on, now," she says.  "You're starting to scare me."

You start to feel horribly embarrassed.  Is this some kind of sick joke?

"OK, I know you're kidding," she says.  "But sure, have it your way.  You can put on the outfit I had on last night.  Come on, put it on!"

You pick the panties up off the floor, and slowly, gracefully, slip them on.  You already feel sleek and curvy.  You can picture your pussy again.  You've never worn panties before – only in your imagination.  Now you feel the luxurious satin tightly against your hips and especially your crotch.  You like it, an awful lot.

Encouraged, you find the bra on the other side of the bed.  She follows your every movement like a hawk.  You wrap it around your waist, its back on your belly, and tie it; then you turn it the right way as you put your arms through the straps and bring it up to your pathetically small boobs.  You love the way it feels tight around your chest, and how unforgettably feminine it feels to bare your waist between matching satin undergarments.

"You're really going to do this, aren't you?"

You take your time rolling on the stockings.  You lament the fact that you have so much unsightly body hair to get rid of.  You almost want to stop and shave your legs now, but you just can't resist the feeling of enveloping your legs in girlishness.

She tosses you the dress as she sees you strapping on the shoes.  They are far too small, but you can't bear to wear anything else.  You thank her and slip into the little sausage casing she wore last night at the club.  You feel marvelously empowered.

"So, are you ready to go out?" she asks.  She put on some jeans and a t-shirt while you were busy with your precious stockings.

"Well, I'd have liked to shave my legs, but this will have to do for now.  Thank you so much for the clothes!  I feel wonderful!"

And you go out onto the street, dressed like a girl. 

No sooner do you go out the door than she drags you back in and says, "OK, you've passed the first test.  Now go shave your body, and I'll have a surprise for you when you're done.

And you go into the shower and shave off all your body hair.  You're very excited about your new look.  You imagine that maybe she'll bring back some more clothes for you.  You get out and put on her clothes again.  She arrives just in time with a man.

"Here's your second test.  If you really want to be a girl, you'll enjoy this."

And you do.  You enjoy it even more than you ever enjoyed fucking any girl.  He really makes you feel like a girl.  At first, you're coy about sucking his cock, but the way his hands fondle your sleek lingerie-clad body turns you on so much that you can't help but encourage him.  You lament not having a pussy, but settle for him fucking your ass.  It feels so feminine to have a penis inside you that you come with every third stroke.  And after he comes deep inside you, you don't hesitate to revive his erection with some more fellatio.  The whole time you imagine that he really is fucking your pussy.

After he's done with you, you help him fuck her.  You get him hard, and guide his dick into her pussy.  You live vicariously through her for a while.  She lets him do things that she never let you do to her.  He even fucks her in the ass, and you feel a tinge of jealousy – not of him, but of her. 

Finally, you relax with a cocktail of feminizing hormones, and put on the most outrageously girlish lingerie in her closet, well on your way to becoming a she-male sissy faggot chick-with-a-dick.

Diary: A Better Twist to Stories

I want to figure out the most extreme transformation story possible, in both the physical and the psychological sense.  I liked the story about how the guy and his buddy made a bet with their wives that they couldn't become girls, and then were hypnotized and surgically transformed into gorgeous she-men.  The one problem with it is the lack of decision.  These men did not decide on their own to become women, they were manipulated into accepting it and enjoying it.  I want to explore what happens to somebody who succumbs without coercion.  Someone who succumbs completely and enthusiastically.

Someone who accidentally discovers, say, his girl's panties, and finds himself pining for them, and for other articles of her clothing.  And this slowly transforms him until he becomes completely female.


Fiction: Queen of the Brothels, Redux

Now, let's get back to our detective story:

So the kid got conned into wearing women's clothes.  I'm not sure how it happened.  It doesn't even matter I suppose.  They could have forced him.  They could have coerced him.  They could have convinced him.  He could have resisted them.  He could have reluctantly agreed.  He could have been in no position to resist.  He could have even suggested it himself.  But I think they probably took away his clothes when he took up with them, and told him to wear women's clothes or else they turf him.  They limited his choices to either running away naked, unprotected from his creditors, or staying there and dressing like a girl.  He probably values his life, and he chose the latter.  


From there, they slowly trained him to get used to it.  He couldn't run away then, especially then.  He looked ridiculous dressed that way.  Who would help him?  Then they started demanding his money.  They promised him that he could live with them forever, and not have to ever worry about food or money again.  He only had to do as he was told.  Evidently, he did it voluntarily.  Wrote them a big fat cheque with all the money his parents gave him.


From there, it was slow effeminization.  They taught him how to act effeminately.  He learned.  They gave him hormones.  He eagerly measured his bust every morning, waiting for his breasts to grow.  And they had him acting in their pornos, as a she-male.  A chick with a dick.  I've seen him in one or two of them, sucking dicks.  He's not quite girlish, but his tits are pretty damned real.

OK, that's going nowhere.  I can't forget in one of the dragscape stories, how the submissive husband was forced by his wife to become a girl.  He had a fetish for sweaters (of all things), and she had him dress up in one.  Then she had him put on her panties and bra, put a sweater on top, and go shopping for lingerie.  From then on, he wore nothing but women's clothes.  He became a girl for her then.  But she had a master plan.  She wanted to show him off later in public as a girl, with real tits.  She asked him to sign up for hormone replacement.  He was reluctant to go in for such a permanent change, but he did.  And he became a she-male, sucking his wife's boyfriends' dicks.  Voluntarily.  Now that's interesting.

Fiction: Commies, Redux

No, that's not quite right.


. . . the girls derided me after I came so quickly, and chained me back up.  They began to laugh at me as I hung there.  They began to put makeup on my face, and shave my body, and say that I might as well be a girl, I'm so useless with them.

They pushed the joke even further by occasionally touching my prick and watching me come just as quickly again.  They said I was sexier this way.  I was ashamed, but they knew that, and forced me to wear their clothes.  they always masturbated me when they did this.  When I grew back my body hair, they treated me like shit, like an imposter of manhood.  I might as well be a girl, they said, and dressed me up again.  It came to the point where I was so nervous about growing back my body hair, and in short, appearing more masculine, that I couldn't come anymore at all when I was masculine.  Only when they seemed to enjoy me more , that is, when shaven, made up, and wearing their dainty little lacy and silky lingerie that I could come.  


The reality of this perplexed and shamed me at first, but I grew accustomed.  I begged to be shaven and effeminated constantly.  They complied, thinking this to be quite phenomenal.  They responded very positively to me when I was feminine.  I began to perceive this, and begged to wear their clothing.  They complied and fucked me.  Eventually, the Officer asked me if I felt that I had changed at all since my capture, if I repented for fighting on the wrong side.


"I'll never repent!  Under my system, I always had the freedom to do what I want!  Here your dissidents are chained and tortured."  I said this with a girlish air, trying to be feminine to impress the girls.

"Oh?  Would you return then, to your homeland, as you are, and forsake your new way of life?  Don't answer now.  We will release you tomorrow, and you can do as you wish."

I hesitated.  I looked at myself, and realized that I was becoming a transsexual.  I was wearing women's clothes and enjoying it.  Enjoying it tremendously.  It was, as a matter of fact, the most thrilling sexual experience that I had ever had.  But I had to escape.  I was, after all, free!


When they unbound me, I began to set out for home.  They had supplied me with my old uniform, but I felt unnatural in it, especially the gitch.  So I bought some girl's stuff, and put it on for my return.  I felt so much better in girl's panties, a bra, some nice stockings, a miniskirt and makeup.  I also preferred the perfume and jewelry.  But I realized that I still seemed masculine.  The people here didn't care.  I got no double takes or weird looks.  I even saw some other transsexuals.  It was normal here.  I returned to the officer's, to meet with the girls again.  I threw myself at their feet, begging for their forgiveness.  I would stay with them for ever, so that they could show me the ways of femininity.  I aspired to be a girl now, after all of their incredible praise and adulation for my femininity.  They agreed.


Since then, I have begun to take estrogen, and other hormones which will make me grow tits, and shrink my waist, and distribute my body fat accordingly.  But I refuse to ever have a sex change.  I need my penis.  I have become the girls sex slave:  they turned out to be lesbians, and they love fucking girls.  But they also want to feel something hard in their cunts.  That's where I come in.  I look and act and feel like a girl, except for my dick.  I love being transsexual.  Even the Officer finds me beautiful now.  Just yesterday, I seduced him. . .


Fiction: Captured by Commies!

The Communists brought me into their CO's office in chains.  I had managed to avoid being wounded, and he seemed impressed at my bulk and machismo.

"My, a healthy ladies' man, no doubt?"


I refused to answer.


"Leave him here with me.  I certainly have some use for him."


The soldiers left and I was alone with the Officer, chained to the ceiling by my hands and to the floor by my feet.  He looked me up and down with disgust, and spat upon my uniform.  "So, you think of yourself as the devout Capitalist soldier, eh?  I shall endeavor to change your mind, my friend, before I release you to your kind.  But first, you must tell me everything that you know."


"I am Sergeant Andrew T. Manley of the 101st Airborne Division.  My serial Number is AY345-9833-098-001."


"But of course.  I suppose that you know nothing else, hmm?"  I remained silent, defiantly.  "I have ways of making you talk, Sargeant.  I do not want to resort to barbarism.  Please, to make things easier for the both of us. . . talk!"


Still, I kept my mouth shut, and stewed with anger.


"Well, if it must be so, then you have only yourself to blame."


He tightened the chains, and I was stretched out completely.  He pressed a button on his desk, and two beautiful women emerged, dressed in scanty little mini-skirts.  They tore off my clothes at the Officer's command.  They both giggled.  I hadn't seen a woman in weeks.  I popped an instant woody.  "What is so funny, girls?  So you find him attractive?"  They nodded yes.  "Then you can play with him later.  First, we shall have some fun of our own."


The three proceeded to engage in the most incredible menage a trois I had ever seen.  I was so horny that I could hardly handle it.  They all looked at me and laughed at me, for missing out.  


This went on every day, in fact, and I just stayed there chained.  The girls fed me only the tiniest bits of food, enough to keep me alive, and always cuddled me a bit, makeing me even hornier.  This went on for so long that I can't even imagine how many days it was.  I must have lost most of my bulk, because I almost escaped from my bonds one time, being so much skinnier.


One day, he looked at my erect cock, and asked me if I wanted sex.  By now I answered him when he asked such things, because he had me in his power.  I answered in the affirmative.  He let me fuck the girls.  I was overjoyed, but as soon as my dick touched their heavenly bodies, I came.  Back into the chains I went, totally unfulfilled.  For the next aeon, he teased me much as he did before, by having the girls touch me sensuously, but never letting me release.  I was going nuts for sex, for their sex.


One day, he brought in another soldier.  He was totally obedient to his CO, and, upon command, sucked my dick in front of the Officer and the girls.  I was disgusted, and he sucked on and on and on, until I came, just for the release.  He swallowed.  The girls laughed at me, and called me a homosexual.  From then on, they perpetually derided me.  They were now violent with me when they fed me.  That made me want them even more, to prove my manhood.  But the cocksucker kept coming back, first in a week, then six days, then five, then four, and eventually daily.  I became used to him, and closed my eyes thinking of the girls as he blew me.  I enjoyed it so much, and I always convinced myself that the girls were behind it.  I fantasized about them only.  At first.


Then I began to realize that they were infernal bitches, and looked forward to my usual blowjob by the male soldier.  To my horror, I began to fantasize about him.  I grew to accept his sucking me, though, and the fact that I enjoyed it.  But it took a long time.


Soon later, the Officer untied me, and allowed me to have sex.  He gave me a choice: the girls, or the man.  To prove my masculinity to the stupid sluts, I fucked them.  But they were unresponsive, as if I were unable to titillate them at all.  I couldn't even come, the event was so horribly humbling.  I went back to my chains, mortified.  I would get them.  The officer allowed this weekly, and each time I took the girls, and each time, they humiliated me.  Finally, I gave up, and went to the guy.  He started by sucking my dick, and then fondled it, and snuggled up to me, and I reluctantly reciprocated.  I fucked him up the ass with shame, came for the first time in ages, and went back to my chains.  I could no longer come with the girls, but the guy was being quite responsive.  I began to enjoy it, and fervently.  Eventually, the girls were simply no longer an option.  I had to fuck the guy.  I would suck him and fuck him and thoroughly enjoy it.


One day, he demanded to fuck me.  I complied reluctantly, but soon it became a mutual thing: I would fuck him, and he would fuck me.  I was now a total fag.


But the girls started to act funny.  They were even more violent to me, and they seemed to saddle up to him all the time, as if they could seduce him.  I was jealous!


He fucked them right in front of me, and I was outraged.  I struggled to tear free of my bonds to kill the sluts, but it was useless.  He was totally satisfied, more than I had ever seen him.


When I was allowed to fuck him, he refused at first, saying that the girls were so much better, that they would let him do the fucking and really enjoy it, and not want to stick anything in his ass.  Furthermore, he revealed to me that he preferred pussy.  I was outraged, but I couldn't do without him.  So I promised to let him fuck me, and that I would try to be more feminine.


Thereafter, I asked the Officer if he could arrange to have my legs shaved, and the rest of my body too.  My hair had already grown quite long.  He complied.  The girls shaved me, laughing derisively at me, reminding me of what a man I used to be.  I resented being called a man.  I beseeched them to show me how to be feminine.  They did.  I began to wear their clothes.


This was the ultimate in femininity.  I was totally in drag, and I came all over myself when I could.  I seduced him as a girl, and he was again very warm to me.  The Officer supplied me with estrogen, and I grew tits and developed a waist.  I was a transsexual.  And I liked it.  But they never let me get a sex change.  I remain this way to this day, free in their system, ever grateful for their turning me into something better: a girl.


This is Becoming a Habit

 I'm on another business trip, and as is becoming usual, I bought myself some nail polish and makeup. I bought a cheap makeup box on Ama...