A Study in Silk

A Study in Silk

by Aleisha James

Greg and I were in the bathroom, crowded around the small vanity, each trying to get as much of the mirror as we could without actually poking elbows at the other.

Greg had started ahead of me and was already doing his eyes, while I was still making sure that my foundation looked perfectly smooth.

Suddenly he stood up, and lowering his eyeliner pencil he began to shake, while I could see tears beginning to well from his eyes.

"What's wrong, Greg?" I asked, my concern showing in my voice.

"Mike, take a look at us. don't you think there's something going on here?"

I looked at our reflections, but for the life of me I couldn't figure out what he meant.

Gazing back at us were two very slender young men, with smooth, hairless faces and arms. Greg was wearing the ivory silk slip he had bought last week, and its spaghetti straps looked very pretty against his satiny skin. He hadn't put on a bra, but then we didn't really need bras yet. His breasts, and mine were still small, and while they were growing rapidly, they were so firm that they stood up proudly without support. His hair needed styling, but so did mine. We would have to wait a few weeks to get enough length to be able to do something creative, but even now we knew how to make ourselves look good.

His eyebrows were plucked into high, thin arches. It was his idea that we do that, but then he had always taken the lead in our new approach to our appearances. It had all seemed perfectly natural and it still did.

He had not yet applied his lipstick, but his lips still looked full and inviting. What could the problem be?

My slip was identical to his except that it was in pale peach with black lace trim. I had been late into the bathroom because I had wanted to try my new garterbelt and nylons, and I felt wonderfully sexy as I looked at my reflection. I had a long way to go, but I sure looked better than I had three months ago when we first decided to take better care of ourselves. Our diet had worked wonders for both of us and even the vitamin supplements that Dr. Franklin had supplied as part of the study seemed not to have interfered. I could see the swell of my breasts under the lace of my bodice, and I could feel my nipples harden as I stood up.

What on earth was bothering Greg? He was at least as pretty as me, so he couldn't be getting jealous?

"Mike, don't you get it? We're boys!"

Well of course we were. Greg could certainly be an airhead at times, I thought.

"I know that, Greg. What else could we be?"

"But we look like girls, Mike. What's happened to us? It must be the study!"

"Nonsense, dear" I assured him.

"Dr. Franklin's study is all about relaxation techniques, about enhancing our abilities by ensuring that we sleep well and get the appropriate reinforcement through the tapes we play during our sleep. Besides.." I confided.. "Dr. Franklin as good as told me that we were getting the placebo tapes.. the ones that have no effect at all"

"He can't know that" Greg said.

"It's supposed to be a double-blind test so that even the experimenters can't tell who gets which tapes"

"You don't really believe that, do you" I chuckled. "I think Dr. Franklin knows exactly what's going on, and I think he likes me a lot, which is why he's let loose these hints. He doesn't want us to worry."

He looked at me, as if I had just said something really silly..

"Of course he likes you! Don't you get it? He's got to be gay. This is all part of his so-called study! Turning normal straight guys into girls! And we're his prime subjects!"

He wasn't making any sense at all. Dr. Franklin was the one man I knew I could trust. He would never do anything dishonest and he certainly wouldn't be doing unethical experiments. There are some things in this life that you know deep down, with absolute certainty. This was one of them. Greg had met Dr. Franklin and had spent just as much time with him in private review sessions. What could account for this sudden paranoia?

Then a thought struck me.

"Greg" I said, taking a firm stance with my legs slightly apart and my arms crossed in front of me.

"You've skipped a tape, haven't you? You've been cheating on the study, haven't you?"

His blush and lowered head was all the answer I needed.

"You know that it's essential that you don't skip any tape. No wonder you're so whacked out! Spouting nonsense like that. You miss a tape and you lose all grip on reality. Now let's get you lying down in bed with your earphones on"

He came with me, but he was obviously unhappy. He muttered something about me not making sense. If the tapes were really placebos, then listening or not listening couldn't have any effect. But I wasn't paying attention. I had been worried that my best friend was losing his mind, falling into paranoid delusions. What could he be thinking? We wore these clothes because it made sense to do so. Only old-fashioned pseudo-macho chauvinists would disagree. These clothes were more comfortable, that's all. The fact that they looked feminine was incidental. It wasn't the point at all. And as for the way we looked, it had been his idea to stop working out, and to lose a lot of weight. Muscles led to heart attacks, he had said. A healthy boy is a slim boy. It was he who had come home from a meeting with Dr. Franklin with the news that Dr. Franklin would like us to take the vitamins every day. So what if it was soon after that that our nipples became sensitive, and then our breasts began to enlarge. There was no connection at all: it was silly to even think about it. I wasn't a girl! Even if it seemed to me recently that girls had it far easier than boys.

I was relieved when I saw his eyes close and his chest begin a quiet regular rhythm as he heard the familiar soothing introduction to the tape. I couldn't figure how he had missed one: I listened to mine faithfully, just as we had promised Dr. Franklin when we had signed up for the study.

I returned to the bathroom and finished my makeup. I was getting quite good at this, I thought.

After a final inspection, I returned to my room and selected a cute black minidress, which I had bought at Dalmy's on our 'special' account last week. It seemed almost a shame that we only wore dresses at home, but while wearing lingerie, makeup and pretty dresses was so clearly the sensible thing to do, something told me that going out like this was not appropriate. At least, not yet.

I curled up with a romance novel. To think that I spent all those years sneering at girls who read these books! They were full of wonderful characters, facing such obstacles to true love. I read little else these days, and my marks were beginning to suffer, but I felt that these books gave me such insight into the human heart that it was well worthwhile. I had to be careful not to cry, and ruin my makeup. Sometimes, when I had taken the time to look nice, I would stop reading before the end just to avoid the tears of happiness that would overwhelm me when the heroine found true love.

I was well into the book when Greg appeared. I had not heard him get up, but it was easy to see that all was well. He had brushed his hair into a pageboy look which went well with his delicate features. He had really gone all out, as evidenced by his crimson nails, dangling diamond earrings, and the diamond pendant which lay between the mounds of his swelling breasts. He was wearing a green cocktail dress, with a full skirt that hung to just above his silk-clad knees. He saw me look up, and paused to twirl on one foot. He had more confidence than I in such high heels, I thought with a flash of envy, as I saw that he was wearing his green and black open-toed evening shoes with four inch heels.

The back of the dress was daringly low, and I knew that he still wasn't wearing a bra. We had talked about his buying a strapless bra to go with the dress, but he had insisted that he would wait until he felt that his breasts had developed some more. Well, I thought, it won't be long now, what with that cleavage he's showing.

Greg minced down the stairs and sat himself down on the edge of the couch where I had been curled up with my book. He smoothed his skirt beneath him with unconscious femininity, and I felt relieved. He was back to normal, just my old friend Greg.

He reached out and touched my shoulder lightly.

"Oh Mike" he said. "I'm so embarrassed, I don't know what to say"

"Don't worry, honey" I said. "Just make sure you don't miss any more tapes, okay?"

He nodded. "That's for sure. Boy, was I getting weirded out!"

Thankful that all had ended well, we spent the rest of the night talking about our plans. Greg wanted me to get my ears pierced as he had, and I was pretending to be reluctant. I even teased him a little: "Now you want me to pretend to be a girl?"

He was gracious enough to blush again, but he insisted that I would feel better about myself if I had it done. I finally relented and told him that I had already scheduled an appointment for the next morning.

"I thought I'd do it before checking in with Dr. Franklin" I said.

He giggled, and I had to smile myself.

I was rested and self-confident the next morning, as always after listening to tape. I replaced last night's with he one marked for tonight, and got dressed.

It occurred to me as I was selecting my underwear that it really didn't make sense to wear rough clothing next to my skin. So I gratefully chose a pair of black silk panties and a matching teddy. I had progressed to where tucking my member between my legs was automatic. I chose a black sweater, which would hide my lingerie from public view. I had dithered over what to wear on my feet. I decided to compromise. I had so liked my garterbelt that I put it back on along with some gossamer thin smoky nylons. Then I pulled some socks over my feet, so that only I would know that I was 'properly' dressed underneath.

Blue jeans and running shows completed my ensemble. I carefully brushed my hair into a uni-sex style and grabbing my purse, I headed for the door.

The beauty parlor where I had booked my ear-piercing was almost empty this early in the morning and it took only a few minutes for the procedure to be complete. I left the shop with two metal studs in my ears and strict instructions to keep them clean for the next several days. They stung just a bit, but it was worth it to me.

My meeting with Dr. Franklin was for 9:45 and I was a few minutes early. I waited on one of those hard, plastic chairs that can be found outside the offices of so many university professors. The door to Dr. Franklin's office was closed and I contented myself with reading another of my romance novels which I had brought to read on the bus.

Eventually the door opened and a tall, broad-shouldered young man emerged. He turned to face into the room and called out.

"Thanks for your help, sir"

He seemed very polite, but awfully young. I doubted that many girls my age would prefer someone like him to an older, more sophisticated gentleman like Dr. Franklin.

I giggled inwardly. What if Greg had been with me. I think that if Greg were a girl, he'd like exactly that type of young man!

I rose to my feet and walked to the now-open door. I knocked lightly as I looked inside.

Dr. Franklin was behind his desk, as always. His lean, ascetic looking face was turned towards the door in response to my knock and I was pleased to see a warm smile slowly break out on his face as he rose to greet me.

He was much taller than I, perhaps a half-foot more than my 5' 7 `. He kept himself in good condition, and his trim waist and athletic build made him very attractive. His brown eyes seemed to widen as he looked me over from head to toe before extending his hand for me to shake. His grasp was warm and dry, with just enough pressure to reassure me that he liked me and welcomed me into his room.

He waited for me to seat myself before resuming his position behind his paper-cluttered desk.

"It's good to see you, Mike" he said. His baritone voice was like music to my ears. I could listen to him all day!

"Thank you, sir" I breathed. For some reason I felt as if he might know and approve of my dressing today. Why I felt that escaped me. Not that there was anything wrong or even strange about the way I was dressed. But the thought that he might know how prettily I was dressed beneath my conventional outerwear made me feel all tingly inside.

"Why, you've had your ears pierced" he said in a tone of mild surprise. Nervously fingering the stud in my left ear, I agreed that, yes, I had. Did he like it?

"It's a great idea"` he said. "But I bet Greg had his done first!"

It always amazed me that he could tell what was going on in our lives. It was as if he were a mind reader. But then, I reflected, he had probably noticed Greg's earrings when he had last met with him.

He pulled out a file from the middle of one of the piles on his desk. It was my file.

We spent the next thirty minutes with me going over a detailed questionnaire. I sat motionless, with my eyes closed and he read the questions in that wonderful voice of his. This was a routine that I had grown accustomed to, and by now my answers flowed almost without conscious attention.

"Time's up" he said, snapping his fingers. I sat up with a start. I had gone even further into trance than I normally did. I could remember nothing other than the usual warm glow, which intensified as he looked at me.

He sat still for a moment, seemingly deep in thought. He nodded to himself, as if he had come to some important decision.

He stood up and told me to come with him. I followed without hesitation. This was a man I trusted implicitly.

We walked in silence out of the building into the bright fall sunlight. His car was parked in the faculty lot immediately behind the building and I obediently got into the passenger side. It was an new Acura, one of the expensive ones. I admired the car, but he was still lost in thought so I fell silent and waited for whatever was to unfold.

After about twenty minutes we pulled into a shaded driveway and came to a stop in front of a large older home.

He got out and I followed him into the house, which he unlocked with two keys. He immediately entered a code in a complex-looking security panel. He hardly looked at me as he gestured towards the stairs. He led the way up the gleaming wooden staircase and down a hallway to a locked door. Once again he unlocked the door and then he motioned me in.

It was a huge bedroom, decorated in a fantasy of femininity. It might have come straight out of one o my more far-fetched romance novels.

The walls were covered with what looked like patterned white silk. A large window dominated the far wall, with patterned sheers and heavy cream- colored silk drapes gathered with large ribbons of matching fabric.

The plush carpet looked brand new, a rich white which seemed to cry out for someone to walk bare-foot. A four-poster canopy bed occupied about a quarter of the room, with white silk trimmed with cream lace.

On the same wall as the door sat a long, low vanity with a make-up mirror. The vanity was covered with tiny jars of cosmetics and perfume sprays. Two stands held lustrous wigs, one blonde and the other brunette. Tiny lights surrounded the mirror, and an upholstered but armless chair sat before it.

Closets lined the wall to my left. The mirrored doors reflected the contents of the room, making it seem twice it's actual size. Two large dressers stood, one on either side of the window. I noticed that a door on the opposite wall led to what I could tell was an en-suite.

"What do you think?"

I realized that Dr. Franklin had broken his silence and was awaiting my response.

"It's beautiful" I said. "So very pretty"`

He smiled.

"Go over to the closets and look inside"` he said.

Not having any idea what was going on, but feeling safe with Dr., Franklin, I complied. The closets were full of clothing. And what clothing!

One closet held nothing but evening gowns and party dresses. Slinky black silk hung next to dramatic scarlet, and a tiny slip dress, which would leave nothing to the imagination hung next to a floor-length, off-the-shoulder number that seemed like something out of a movie.

The next closet held more sensible wear: suits with knee-length skirts, blouses, dresses one might wear around the house. Then came a closet full of nothing but shoes!

"Look in the bureaus" I heard.

The top drawer was full of panties in a multitude of colors and styles. The next held a small selection of bras. The third was full f carefully folded teddies, camisoles, slips and half-slips.

I turned around before looking any further.

He had moved to closets and had pulled out the slip-dress I had noticed. It was a beautiful shimmering black, very simple, very elegant, and I felt sure, very sexy.

"Michael" he said, walking towards me with the dress held across his outstretched arms.

"Please try this on for me."`

How did he know? I thought. I had wanted to wear that dress as soon as I saw it.

"You are perfectly safe with me, my dear" he said.

"I know I am" I replied, taking the dress from his arms.

"You know how to look pretty"` he said.

"You'll find everything you need to look your best for me"

He left and I stood alone in that fantasy-bedroom.

How could he know? I kept asking myself that question but while it occupied my thoughts, it didn't stop me from undressing.

I was glad I had my own lingerie on under my rough clothes. Whoever lived here had wonderful taste, and I felt diffident about using her precious things.

The dress felt marvelous as I stepped carefully into it and pulled it up my body.

I was glad that I had lost five more pounds that week, else it might not have fit over my hips, As it was, it clung closely to my body.

He said that I was to look pretty, so I was extra careful with my makeup. Fortunately, I recognized most of the brands and the actual shades that the owner of this room preferred. We had almost identical tastes, although the selection here was far greater than the meager assortment that Greg and I had put together.

That thought gave me pause. Too bad for Greg.. he would love this room!

I noticed a jewelry box sitting with its lid ajar. Well, I might as well look, I said to myself.

The box played a pretty tune when I lifted the lid. A music box!

Laying on top was an envelope, with my name on it. Curious to see what was within, I opened the envelope and out came a piece of stiff white paper and several pieces of jewelry.

The note asked me to wear the jewelry from the envelope, with the exception of the anklet. The thin gold anklet had a disk if beaten gold attached to it. It was inscribed, and I read the inscription.

'Aleisha - Property of Jack Franklin' it said.

The name resonated in my head. I had to sit down. I held the anklet across my fingers, wondering if I was supposed to wear it. I couldn't... I wasn't Aleisha.. (the word .. yet.. echoed dimly in my mind). I stood up, and, taking a deep breath put the anklet down. Even Dr. Franklin, it seemed, did not feel the time was right.

At last I was finished. I selected a pair of black open-toed pumps from the closet, grateful that the owner and I wore the same size. That was fortunate, since I knew that my feet were probably a couple of sizes bigger than most girls of my height.

I walked to the door and looked out into the hallway. There was no sign of him, but I could hear soft music coming from downstairs, and there had been no music playing when we had arrived.

So I went downstairs towards the sound of the music. I didn't recognize it, but it was soft jazz, with a female vocalist.

The music led me to a large living room. It was furnished in a masculine sort of way, with dark leather furniture and a glass- topped coffee table. Abstract paintings hung on the walls, and sculptures stood in corners and on the bureau lining one wall.

Dr. Franklin was sitting in a comfortable-looking armchair, but rose to his feet as I entered. Once again I got the impression that his eyes widened as he saw me, and his gaze traveled from my head to my toes and back again. I had the strangest feeling that he was mentally undressing me. That should have bothered me, but for some reason it didn't.

"You look lovely, my dear" he said.

He walked towards me and stopped about three feet away.

"Turn around, so that I can see all of you" he spoke.

I obeyed, and as my back was turned toward him, I felt a hand on my shoulder.

"That's far enough... let me savor this for a moment"

I was acutely aware of his presence behind me. There was a warmth on my bare skin and I could detect his scent, a strong, masculine aroma which was oddly pleasing to me.

I felt his hands caress my sides, running lightly over my dress. Then they stroked my buttocks and I found myself making an involuntary gasp for air.

What was going on? For the second time in two days I felt confusion. First it had been Greg acting so strangely, with his suggestion that Dr. Franklin was gay and had been manipulating us to turn us into girls. Now Dr. Franklin was acting as if he were sexually attracted to me!

I couldn't help myself. I turned to face him.

"Sir, please tell me what's going on? Why are you doing this?"`

The smile left his face immediately, and he averted his gaze as he stepped back.

"It's a little too soon, I guess" he said, as if to himself.

Looking back at me he said "You've been taking such good care of yourself that I just wanted you to know that I appreciate the effort you are making"

"Thank you" I said, although I had an uncomfortable feeling that something very important had almost happened. I wasn't sure what it was, but there had been something about the way he had looked at me that prompted my next remark.

"But I have to tell you, sir, that I was getting worried there. You were looking at me as if I were a girl, and you know that I'm not"

"Oh yes, Michael" he said. "Believe me, I know exactly what you are"

He added, before I could respond to that cryptic remark, that he would take me home, but I was to wait there for a moment.

He left, only to return within a minute with a black cashmere coat, with a fur collar.

"It's getting chilly out" he said.

He helped me into the coat.

"What about my clothes?" I asked.

"You don't need those tonight, and I'll have them delivered to your home tomorrow"

"And what about this?" I said, holding out the anklet which I had had in my hand.

"We'll talk about that some other time" he said, taking it from me.

We walked out to his car. I was conscious of the click of my heels on the hardwood floors and the concrete paving. He held open the passenger door and I sat sideways and then swiveled my legs in. He closed the door and walked around to climb in the driver's side.

We were silent on the way home. He repeated his courtesy once there, holding open my door and taking my hand to assist me out.

We walked to the front steps and he stopped as I climbed the first one.

"Please don't drop out of the study" he said. "What happened tonight has nothing to do with that"`

I was still confused. What had happened tonight? I smiled down at him. With my heels and the advantage of the step I was actually taller than him.

"Don't worry, sir" I said. "I'll still be a good subject for your study"

His eyes searched my face for a moment and than he nodded and turned away.

I watched as he got into his car and pulled away from the curb. My emotions were in turmoil despite my outward calm. I had come close to crossing some Rubicon tonight, but what and why I could not say.

I had forgotten my purse at Dr. Franklin's house so I had to ring the bell. Fortunately Greg was home, but then again, we never went out anymore.

Greg was dressed for bed, wearing his pink housecoat over his favorite babydoll nightgown. He wasn't wearing any makeup. I was startled, nonetheless, at how much like a girl he looked. I had never noticed that before, even when he had told me to look into the mirror when we were doing our faces.

He stepped back, with an expression of awe on his face.

"Mike, you look like a million dollars"

"Where did you get that coat?"

I came in and turned on my toes, holding the front of my coat open, so that Greg could appreciate my finery.

"Take the coat off, honey!" he said.

"I just have to see that dress!"

I hung the coat in the hall closet and then walked carefully into the living room, aware with every step of Greg's eyes upon me. I even put a little extra swivel into my walk.

"It's delicious" he gushed. "Where did you get it?"

I told him all about my evening, including Dr. Franklin's strange behaviour.

"Well, I can't say that I blame him for looking at you like you say" he said. "If you were a girl, you'd have to fight the boys off with a machine gun or something"

"You don't look too bad yourself" I laughed. "We'd both need machine guns!"

"Thank you, dear" he said, with a quick curtsey . He came over to me and, standing close, looked me in the eyes. Then he surprised me by leaning forward and giving me a quick kiss on the lips.

I froze.

He looked at me with concern.

"Honey, I've wanted to do that ever since I got up this morning, and you look so wonderful I just couldn't help myself"

"It's okay" I stammered.

"Really?" he asked.

I nodded and he said "Let's prove it"

This time he took off his housecoat. He was wearing an ivory- colored babydoll nightgown, with delicate lace trim around the bodice and the hem. His nipples pressed against the silken fabric as he stepped up close to me. I could smell perfume on his skin as he put his arms around my neck and leaned in to place a long, lingering kiss on my lips.

My body went rigid as his lips made contact with mine, but the feel of his body against me, the feel of his silken nightgown ,and the smell of his perfume came close to melting my resistance.

We kissed for what seemed like hours, our mouths hungrily tasting each other, our tongues pressing against lips which opened to greedily engulf each other. I could feel warmth in my groin as blood rushed to engorge my member and I knew that Greg felt the same response, as his stiff prick pressed against me.

We finally broke, breathing hard.

We each stepped back.

I had lost control of my senses as we had grappled, and it was only on seeing him at a distance, however short, that I realized what we had just done, and perhaps worse, what we had been about to do.

"Greg" I pleaded "We have to stop now!"

"No.. we can't.. I need you.." His eyes locked with mine, desire mixed with puzzlement lending an urgency to his voice.

"We're not girls. That's why I came home. Had I wanted to be a girl tonight, I could have stayed with Dr. Franklin."

He stood there, his hands stroking the silk of his nightgown as if he needed the affirmation that he was wearing a nightgown, as if by feeling the fabric he could assure himself of his femininity.

"Oh God, Mike" he said, as his face crumpled and he turned away.

"What's been happening to us?"

I reached out to him, without any sexual overtones. We hugged, and I could feel against my face the tears which he was crying. To my surprise, I found myself crying as well, and we clung together as two lonely survivors seeking shelter from a storm.

Finally, he sniffed and pulled away.

"I think I need some more tape. I feel so much better after a session" he said.

"Somehow I feel that it's the only way to make sense of this, to give me my sense of who I am"

Our gazes met.

"I think you were right the other night when you said that the tapes are being used to condition us" I said.

"Of course I was" he replied.

"But what choice do we have? There's no turning back, and the tape will make it easier. Maybe tomorrow we'll be happy with what's happening to us"

I nodded my reluctant assent. We were doomed, but the thought of trying to change back, of giving up what felt so right about the way we looked and dressed was inconceivable.

I was asleep within minutes of inserting the earphones and activating the tape.

The next morning found me feeling full of light and joy. Greg was already up and I noticed with approval that she was looking especially feminine this morning.

She greeted me with a kiss.

"Hello, sleepyhead" she said.

"Hi, darling" I said as I hugged her and gave her a kiss on the lips.

She was wearing a negligee I had not seen before. I admired it and she told me that she'd got it at Dalmy's. Well, I knew that! Both of us had got all of our new clothes from that store, ever since that day when we had simultaneously stopped and admired their window display. That must have been about a week after we enrolled in the study, although surely that was just a coincidence.

Anyway, we had gone inside and wandered through store, marveling at the selection that girls got to wear. I think it was Greg who first suggested that in this day and age there was no reason why boys like us shouldn't wear comfortable clothing as well. I had expressed skepticism. After all, there was a name for boys who dressed as girls: drag queens.

He had laughed out loud.

"Nonsense, Mike. I'm not talking about going queer. But just take a look at this, and have a feel"

He was indicating a rack of teddies, and I did reach out to feel the cool smoothness of the silk.

"Imagine that under your shirt, against your skin. Wouldn't that feel nice?"

I had to agree, and just then a well-dressed middle-aged sales assistant came up to us and asked, as if it were the most normal thing in the world, whether we would like to buy ourselves something pretty.

We were both taken aback, and our confusion showed. She told us to come with her and she led us to the back of the store where she showed us into a small office.

"Boys, I saw how you were looking at that lingerie. You weren't looking for your girlfriends, so there's no point in trying to deny your interest"

We stammered our denials despite her comments.

"Don't worry. You are not alone. We have plenty of boys, normal hetereosexual boys just like you who recognize the silliness of not being able to wear the wonderful clothes designed for women. We have so many that we want to develop a market. The best way for us to do that is to make clothing affordable for you young men"

We looked at each other. Greg asked the question that was on both of our minds.

"What do you mean: affordable ?"

"You boys have your old ward-robes and good lingerie, not to mention pretty dresses, accessories, cosmetics and so on, cost a lot of money. Few students can afford a proper wardrobe, and I doubt that your parents would help with these particular expenses"

We laughed, breaking the mounting tension.

Once we were at ease, she explained that Dalmy's offered special accounts for boys like us who wanted to experiment. The store was aided in this by a generous donation from an unspecified source. The point was that we could buy almost anything we wanted to and there would be no cost at all.

We could hardly believe our ears, but soon enough she had us out looking at the teddies. I picked out the black number that I had worn last night, while Greg choose an identical design in what was to become his favorite color: ivory.

We had gone back every week since; sometimes several times in a week, and now boasted impressive selections of lingerie, although we were still working on dresses, blouses and skirts.

Anyway, Greg must have been to the store without me. What a little wench, I thought to myself.

She sat me down at the breakfast table and served me my usual breakfast of a small bowl of Special K cereal and a dollop of low- fat yogurt. She brought over her food and sat beside me.

We played with our food, while I kept stealing glances at her. She was doing the same, and when our eyes met we pealed with laughter. I just couldn't get over how pretty she was!

I was about to suggest that we adjourn to her bedroom to pick up where I had stopped us last night when the telephone rang.

Greg answered. She said "Hello" and then "Yes, she's here"

She passed the phone to me. I already knew whose voice I would hear.

"How are you this morning?"

The deep baritone of Dr. Franklin's greeting warmed my stomach. I could feel heat rising to my cheeks as Greg made kissing faces at me.

"I'm fine, thank you sir" I answered.

"Call me Jack" he said. "I think we know each other well enough for that, don't you?"

This was incredible. I had been sitting with Greg, feeling a strong physical desire for her. Now with his honeyed voice in my ear I could think only of Dr. Franklin... or Jack.

"All right, Jack" I breathed into the mouthpiece.

"We almost made a breakthrough last night, you and I" he said.

"Yes, I know"

"I gather, from Greg saying that 'she's' here, that the two of you have made that breakthrough on your own"

"I think so, Jack" I said.

"I knew it was close. I only wish I had been there to witness your self-discovery"

I could hear his laughter over the phone.

"We didn't do anything, Jack. It's just that this morning we know what we are. Do you still want to see me?"

"Of course I do... and I will. You need a man to show you the full meaning of sexual pleasure. A girl like Greg can be a lot of fun, and I'm sure that you love her. But that is not the same as surrendering to a man; a man who will own you, possess you and control you. That will happen, and you know that you need it. Tell me now"

I couldn't stop the words from leaving my lips.

"When, Jack... Please, I need you so... Please forgive me...I could have been yours last night. Please make me your own!"

I could see Greg out of the corner of my eye. She had sat down, a serious look on her face. She reached out and laid one hand on my forearm, as if to assure me of her support.

"I will see you tonight" he said. "You'll become mine tonight"

He hung up and I just sat there. His last words echoed in my head, and I stared into nothing.

I reverted to normal with a start.

Greg was on her knees in front of me, licking her lips as she lifted the hem of my peignoir.

"You may belong to Dr. Franklin" she said. "But I'm not letting this go to waste!"

She closed her lips over my rampant penis and proceeded to suck me off, gently and with total concentration. I arched my back as her soft, warm mouth enveloped me. My hands involuntarily took hold of her head and encouraged her bobbing motions. I felt my hips begin to move in response to her tender ministrations. Excitement mounted and I flashed on me performing this same adoring service on Jack Franklin.

That thought pushed me over the top, and I came very quickly. Greg even seemed a little disappointed as she licked me clean.

"I think Dr. Franklin will want you to exercise more control, to take longer!" she said as she rose from her kneeling position.

I bowed my head, not wanting to make eye contact. I was already feeling shame and embarrassment. What were we doing? But no sooner had I asked myself that question than I mentally shook it off. Today was a wonderful day! Greg and I had no worries anymore, our destinies were already planned and we could relax in the certainty that Jack Franklin knew what was best for us.

I realized that I had lost my appetite for what remained of breakfast, and I had a lot to do if I was going to be ready for Jack that evening. I had to have something to wear!

I had adored that slip-dress and it seemed that Jack had liked me in it as well. So I decided that I would carefully iron it and wear it over some new lingerie. And that meant a trip to Dalmy's!

I asked Greg to go with me to help pick out something special.

"Of course I'll go" she said. "It's not every day that my best friend is bedded by the man of her dreams, and you'll want to look your prettiest and your sexiest for him"

I looked at her.

"You feel it too" I said. "We crossed over.. we're girls now?"

"It's like we said last night" she said. "The 'study'.. it can't be a coincidence that we began to think that it was okay to lose so much weight, to shave all of our body hair and to start wearing girl's clothing so soon after we started to listen to the tapes."

She placed her hands beneath the small but firm globes of her breasts. I had never paid much attention to her figure before, or to mine for that matter. Now, admiring her breasts, I realized that my own were even more developed.

"And we've been growing breasts ever since we got those vitamin supplements along with the tapes"

"But Dr. Franklin told us that this was just a study in relaxation therapy!" I sobbed, a part of me still wanting to deny the truth.

"What do you think he'd do? Tell us that he was going to turn us into pretty little queens? Tell you that he wanted you as his own personal love slave? No, he has to dress it up as a legitimate study. I bet that most of the students are enrolled in a real relaxation study and that only 'special' kids were chosen for his 'special' subset."

"But why, Greg? Why would he do this? Even if he wanted to, even if he could, why would he choose more than one of us? You don't love him, but I do! And that must be because he wants me to. Why not you? Why me?"

I'd said it. I loved him, not matter how upset I was. No matter how disgusted I was by the thought of being a fairy, of sucking cocks, of being his possession, the only thing that mattered was that I loved him.

Greg stroked my back, trying to soothe me.

"I don't know, honey" she said.

"Maybe he needed backups in case you didn't fall for him. Maybe he has plans for me... I've had some recurring dreams recently, there's someone in them, but I can never remember any details. Maybe that's who I destined to belong to, just as you're destined to belong to Jack Franklin."

I stood up, feeling empty, but somehow better. Greg was still my best friend even if she had become a queen, but I could tell by looking at her that she was never going to live as a boy again. I looked in the mirror, and my mind flashed back to the time when she had begun to cry, concerned that we were being changed against our will, and without our knowledge. Then I had been the one to reassure her, but out of ignorance rather than knowledge. Her concerns, her suspicions had been only too accurate. And I had dissuaded her.

Perhaps, had I seen what was reflected in that mirror on that day, I could have resisted. I could have destroyed the tapes and sought help. But I had been so well conditioned that I had seen two boys in the mirror: not two queens. Now, looking into the same mirror, I could see how little masculinity was left.

We were the same height, and almost the same build. My breasts were perhaps slightly more developed than hers, while her hair seemed a little fuller than mine. Facially we looked like sisters, with similar noses, high cheek-bones and small ears. Looking harder than I had ever done before, I could see why Dr. Franklin had chosen us, if indeed that was the explanation. With our bone structure, we had little difficulty passing for attractive young women, even without makeup.

And our bodies were very feminine by now. Perhaps, I thought, too long-waisted for perfection. But I knew that by now I weighed only 125 pounds, despite having more of an ass than I could remember and despite what must be several pounds of breast tissue. My waist was tiny and there were deep hollows over my collar bones. As I looked at those hollows an image came unbidden into my mind of Greg nuzzling me there last night, and how wonderful she had made me feel. Was it too late for me? For us?

I turned to her. "Greg" I asked. "What should we do?"

She looked thoughtful.

"I guess we could call our parents" she said.

Neither of us were on good terms with our families, who in any event lived far away. Just the thought of my father seeing me like this destroyed any chance of pursuing that option. It was evident from her expression that Greg was of a similar mind.

"Or we could complain to the College. What Franklin's done is completely unethical. We still have the tapes and the machines as evidence."

I protested. "Think of the stories, think of how we will be treated. Even if they believe us, can you imagine what our futures will be like?"

Greg turned to me.

"I know, honey. I just wanted to be sure that you understood. Besides, I like being pretty!"

I mustered a brave smile.

"I guess I do too."

"Then let's go out and buy something special. Your Dr. Franklin will be seeing you tonight...are you okay with that?"

"I think so.. and maybe picking out something really nice will make me feel better about it."

I continued "The tough thing is, Greg, that I while l think of us as girls, I know that we are not. We are physically still boys and I don't think that will ever change. Yet I'm in love with him!"

"Sugar, you don't look like a boy to me, and I don't think that Dr. Franklin thinks of you that way... although I guess he likes girls with cocks!"

"Moping about it won't change things, I guess. And you're right... we may as well enjoy being who we are" I said, smiling through my incipient tears.

I got dressed carefully, rolling my nylons up my legs slowly in order to avoid having a run. I chose white panties, bra and garterbelt. Putting the bra on felt like an act of surrender to my femininity, and I felt calmer once I had adjusted the cups to fit. It was unheard of for us to go out dressed as females during the day; last night had been the first time I had ever been outside in a dress, or wearing makeup. But it felt as though it was now inevitable. Soon the whole world would know. We had been tricked into taking hormones, conditioned into dieting, and trained subconsciously to think of ourselves as feminine creatures and nobody would have gone to that much trouble to keep us under wraps.

So I put on a white camisole and a pale lemon blouse, leaving enough buttons undone so that the lace of my camisole was clearly visible. It was daytime and I instinctively knew that only light makeup was appropriate: just some lipstick and a very small amount of eyeshadow.

I brushed my hair back and used a pink scrunch to hold it in a ponytail. Small gold earrings replaced the metal studs, and I chose a simple gold necklace.

My skirt was white, mid-thigh length with a short slit on the right side. I chose a belt and a pair of shoes to match my blouse. A spray of Obsession and I was done.

Greg was already dressed, and I was disappointed to see that she was going out as a boy. On second thought, maybe that was unfair to her.

She wore a white shirt, with the cuffs rolled up, and blue jeans with a belt made of gold-colored chain. She had a gold bracelet on her wrist and a hint of lace showed above the buttons of her shirt.

She wore running shoes, but whereas the ones she usually wore were white and green, these were white and pink. And I could see that she had on the barest trace of light pink lipstick.

"You look super!" she squealed. "I wish I'd been brave enough to dress all the way. Do you think I should change?"

"Greg, you look fine, and besides, if we wait any longer, I may chicken out"

We walked to Greg's beat-up old car and she drove. It took us about fifteen minutes to get to Dalmy's.

Our special assistant, as we had come to think of her, was busy with another customer, but she saw us come in and smiled. She hurried over to tell us that she'd be with us in a moment, stopping long enough to touch my sleeve and whisper.

"Oh sweetie, you look wonderful!"

Greg and I contented ourselves with looking over the newest additions. We had long grown accustomed to the stares which we had attracted when shopping while dressed as boys. Accustomed but not completely ignorant of them either. This time was different, even though the store was busy.

"Greg" I said. "Nobody's paying any attention to us"

She looked around.

"That's because we look like we belong. Even in this." She pointed down at her clothing.. "I look as much like a boyish girl than a girly boy.. and you are perfect!"

We smiled and giggled. If only people knew!

Loreen came over, after a longer delay than we had anticipated.

"Now girls, what can I do for you?" she asked.

"Mike's going on a special date tonight! A REALLY special date, and she needs something very special to wear!"

I blushed and lowered my eyes. Greg was speaking way too loud, and while both of us had taken to speaking in softer, higher tones in recent months, she still sounded more like a male than a female. Referring to me as 'Mike' would cause consternation if anyone overheard. It felt as if all eyes were on me, which shouldn't have bothered me. But it did, maybe because I was suddenly conscious of how feminine I looked.

Loreen was unfazed, as usual. She took my hands and squeezed lightly.

"I knew something was up, what with you finally coming here in decent clothes. He must be a very special man, and I think a very lucky man to have you as his date"

She led us to the part of the shop in which evening wear was displayed.

She sorted through rack after rack, while chattering away happily.

"Just you wait, I'll find you a perfect dress...you'll be absolutely stunning!"

She held up one selection after another, but always shook her head and put it to one side.

Then at last she held up a dress, looked at me and nodded.

"I think this will do. Now we'll have you try it on and I'll have it altered immediately if it isn't a perfect fit"

She led me to the fitting room and handed me the dress.

"Are you wearing a slip?" she asked.

When I said that I was wearing only a camisole she strode off to return almost right away with a long white half-slip, with a lace- trimmed slit nearly to the waist.

"The slip's not as pretty as I know you like" she said. "But it'll let us be sure that the dress hangs right. Make sure the slit is on the left, and take-off your bra. This dress is for a girl who's not afraid to be seen, who has firm breasts! Old women can't wear this type of dress" She smiled as she pulled the curtain shut.

The dress looked gorgeous and I had to try it on. I was impatient while taking off my skirt and blouse, but it would have been unladylike to hurry and risk damaging my clothes.

It was on at last, and I took a deep breath before looking at my image in the mirror.

I almost fainted!

Looking back at me was a beautiful young woman wearing a dream of a dress.

Her left shoulder was bare, and I could feel the coolness of the air on both my arm and much of my back. The dress was made of black satin, although the bodice, such as there was consisted of black lace. The top of the lace just barely covered her left nipple, and the entire breast was visible. The neckline ascended to her right shoulder, such that her right breast was entirely covered, although the lace started no more than half an inch above the nipple.

The dress showed off her slender waist, and indeed I could not remember ever realizing how slim I had become. No boy could ever have worn this dress!

The dress managed to accentuate the flare of her hips. Or so I assumed, since again I had not previously been conscious of how dramatically my figure had changed.

As the girl in the mirror moved, turning sideways to look at her profile, the ankle-length skirt moved with her, the long slit on her left side revealing a flash of lace and flesh.

She was beautiful, and this even without proper makeup, or shoes, or hair or accessories...

And she was me!

Wait until Greg sees me in this! I thought. Then, with a feeling of warmth in my groin and my stomach, I thought 'Wait until Jack sees me!'

I quickly thrust that thought form my mind. I couldn't afford an erection here!

But thinking of how Greg would react gave me an idea.

I pulled back top of the curtain, holding the rest of it closed so that I could stick my head out without revealing my dress. Greg was nearby, looking through a catalog.

"Greg" I stage-whispered.

She looked up expectantly.

"Be a dear and ask Loreen to find me some shoes and maybe some jewelry. I need to see how it feels when I'm wearing heels"

She took off right away and he and Loreen returned very quickly. Loreen passed me a pair of simple black patent leather spikes, maybe three inch heels. They had cute ankle straps and open toes, just as I liked.

Once I had them on, I stuck my head out again and told Greg to close her eyes.

Then I pulled the curtain open walked out. I felt wonderful!

I stopped four feet in front of Greg and told her she could look now.

The expression on her face told me that my view of myself in the mirror had been no lie. Her mouth dropped open and she was, for the first time in our friendship, at a loss for words.

Then she ran forward and hugged me, kissing me on the cheek.

"Oh Honey" she said, squeezing me tight.

"You are so beautiful. That dress is you, really you!"

"You'll have to let go" I said, half-jokingly. I could feel a hardening in her jeans as she reacted to our embrace. My own penis stirred where I had tucked it between my legs.

"Otherwise you'll ruin the dress, and maybe your panties!"

She stepped back quickly, a look of alarm passing over her pretty face.

"Don't be such a tease" Loreen cautioned.

"Besides, that dress can take a hug or two... it had better, given the way you look in it, dear. You rate to be squeezed by someone much stronger than Greg and more passionate as well"

The next fifteen minutes were spent with Loreen supervising a seamstress who took careful measurements and stuck pins in a few places. Loreen helped me out of the dress and told me that it would be delivered to my house no later than 5 o'clock.

Back in my skirt and blouse, but still glowing from wearing that dress, I spent a happy hour trying on shoes. In the old days, the idea of shopping was anathema to me. How could anyone take more than a few minutes to buy something? That silly, macho attitude was history now and Greg and I had a wonderful time, trying on different pairs, walking up and down the aisle, and giggling over our selections. Loreen eventually persuaded me that the pair she had me wear while trying on my dress was the best selection

Then it was off to the lingerie department.

First, I had to have new panties. Since I was wearing black, Loreen suggested that I stay with that color.

She surprised me by saying that they had recently got in a new style of panty.

"We've had a number of special girls like you two in recent months, as you know. It's something to do with that study you two are enrolled in."

"And you girls sometimes have 'reactions' that tend to spoil the image, if you know what I mean"

The memory of my budding erections when I had thought of Jack Franklin seeing me in my dress and again when Greg had embraced me sprang into my mind. If just thought could excite me, or physical contact with another girl, how would I handle the reality of the man I loved?

Loreen continued.

"These panties have a special tube sewn into them. They look and fell like ordinary panties, and because of the market they are designed for, they are very pretty. It's important that all of your clothes reinforce your new self-image. However, when you put them on, tuck your penis into the tube and the panty will hold it between your legs. The material is stronger than it looks, so you won't create a scene no matter how excited you get"

She produced several pairs, and I tried them on. I really liked the pair with the black lace around the waist and the high-cut leg openings, but I bought all of them. After all, a girl needs lots of panties!

I had thought that I would wear the same garterbelt as I had last night, but Greg insisted that I buy something new, and Loreen agreed. In the end I bought one that was very similar: black with small lace rosettes where the four tabs joined the belt.

Nylons came next. Loreen suggested either black with seams or a smoky black with delicate patterns in the weave. I chose the patterned nylons for tonight, but bought several pairs of each.

"You need a half-slip, and it's got to have a deep slit on the side" Loreen told me.

"That means that this will have to do"

She produced a slip identical to the one I had worn when trying on my dress, except that it was in black silk and lace.

I thought that we had finished, and Loreen had wrapped up my new purchases for me, when Greg whispered something in her ear. She brightened, and looked at me.

"Oh dear. We almost forgot! This is going to be your special night! Your beau will adore you in that dress, but he will want to ravish you once you're out of it. We need to find that special little something that will make him desire you that tiny bit more that gives you, as the girl, the true power of your sexuality"

The 'special little something' was a tiny confection of black satin and lace. The satin covered my body from below my breasts to just below my groin. The lace revealed, rather than concealed, my breasts and my thighs. Tiny straps would hold it up, until, as Greg giggled, "He tears it off!"

I blushed as Loreen held it in front of me, with a warm, knowing smile.

Then a thought struck me.

"We're doing all this for me, Loreen. We should do something for Greg as well. She's as much a girl as me and she deserves something pretty as well"

Greg protested.

"This is your day.. it's your special night. I'm happy with all I've got. Besides," she said "Maybe next time it'll be my turn and you can find out how much fun it is helping your best friend choose her fancy clothes for her first big date"

Loreen intervened.

"Mike's right, honey. Why don't you pick out a little something for yourself. After all, you never know when Mr. Right, or maybe even Ms. Right will come knocking at the door!"

That led to a delightful twenty minutes, culminating in Greg picking out a very feminine nightgown similar to mine but in pale blue, with cream lace trim.

We were at the cash register with our packages when I remembered that Loreen had let slip that she knew about the study. Of course! What a silly girl I was; so naove! Somebody had set up our 'special account', on which we'd spent hundreds and hundreds of dollars. It had to be part of the plan.

"Loreen, tell me something" I said, placing my hand on her forearm.

"You've known all about the study.. about what's been happening to us.. about how we have been conditioned against our will?"

She put down the parcel she was running past the laser wand and took a quick look around. There was nobody in the immediate vicinity, but the store was crowded. She looked serious, biting her lower lip as she thought about her answer.

She came to a decision.

"Follow me, girls" she said. She placed our purchases on some shelves beside the till and called another sales assistant over, telling her to make sure the bags remained untouched until we got back.

She then led us to the same small office where we had first discussed our special account.

"I guess I can tell you now. You seem happy to be girls, and from what I've been told it's too late for you to even want to back out now"

We nodded our agreement.

She proceeded to tell us that she and Dr. Franklin were brother and sister; and that their father had been killed when they were quite young. He had been an unusual man and had been very lucky in his choice of wife, since he had been a transvestite. He had even been in nightclub acts as a Female Impersonator. His lifestyle had been accepted as normal by his children, but when their mother remarried they learned that most people looked on 'drag queens' as abominations, even if they were heterosexual or, as Loreen confided she suspected her father had been, bisexual.

Their mother's second marriage had been unhappy, and their step- father had always been especially hard on Jack, who he accused of being destined to grow up just like 'that fag, your father'.

The marriage had not lasted, and Jack had never shown the least inclination to wear women's clothing. He had dated as a young man, but had never been able to settle down. Loreen herself had been abused by their step-father, although she gave us no details. It was enough, she said, to make her unable to trust normal men. Neither she nor Jack had ever settled down.

Jack's energies had been sublimated into his work. Perhaps his childhood had influenced his choice of profession: to study psychology might perhaps allow him to understand and thus to come to grips with his childhood.

But along the way he learned that he was powerfully attracted to boys who dressed and acted like girls. At the same time, the respectability demanded of him as he pursued tenure and grants made it dangerous for him to establish a relationship. Then there was the problem of AIDS. Those 'girls' he did encounter were usually prostitutes, or at the very least, were party girls with whom he could never feel safe.

What could he do?

Through groups on the Internet he found that there were a number of respected, successful men who shared both his desires and his fears. It took years to identify a handful of people who could be trusted, but eventually a small group of like-minded men decided that what was needed were 'girls' who had no background as such. Who would be virgins, and yet who would be enthusiastic and monogamous lovers. Who could pass as women in any company. How could this be done?

By coincidence Jack was offered a chance to work on a government sponsored research project. It was for one of the more obscure intelligence agencies and it was into behaviour modification. He would ordinarily have turned them down. Such projects might sometimes become public many years later, doing great harm to the participants. The agency assured him that this would never happen, and he pretended that that assurance had been sufficient. In fact, he had decided to take the risk since he saw the project as gaining him access to knowledge and techniques which would help his group find their perfect lovers.

Another member of the group was a biochemist, with access to hormones, appetite suppressants and other chemicals to assist in the physical transition.

Jack had wrestled with moral qualms. He and Loreen had always been close, despite their different career paths. She was eventually able to get him to talk about the plan, and , to his surprise, she immediately offered to help, using her position as a manager of Dalmy's to help the candidates acquire their wardrobes without causing an uproar.

She had only two conditions, she said.

The first was that Jack had to screen the candidates and be able to stake his entire credibility on the promise that the girls would enjoy their new condition: that they would be truly happy.

She stopped there and looked at us.

"Would either of you like to be boys again, and not be able to wear your pretty clothes?"

I tensed. What could I say. Part of me wanted to cry out in protest, but that part of me had no control over my actions.

We shook our heads, as if fascinated by her story, which was anyway true.

"What was the second condition?" Greg asked, in a tone which suggested that he half-knew and half-dreaded the answer, while all the time needing desperately to hear it..

"Stand up, Greg" she said, matching her action to her words.

Greg obeyed and Loreen stepped towards her.

"Close your eyes, darling"` Loreen breathed.

I could see Greg tense as she closed her eyes. I held my breath, knowing what I was about to witness was as momentous for Greg as my date tonight would be for me.

Loreen was much the same height as Greg, and only a little heavier. She placed her arms around Greg, sighing as she did so.

"I've waited so long" she said as she pulled Greg close and kissed her.

Greg stiffened for a moment and then she seemed to flow into Loreen's embrace. I ducked my head and cleared my throat.

This got Loreen's attention and she pulled back from Greg, without letting her go.

"She's my second condition! That Jack make me a perfect lesbian lover.. a beautiful girl with a cock"

"But I think it's time Greg changed her name. I think she'll be Gwen from now on"

Part 2

Gwen blushed, and seemed to glow with happiness. She leaned forward and kissed Loreen passionately. I could feel my penis stir, even though I knew that women were no longer for me. Soon I would have my own moment; the moment when the veil that still masked some of my new self would be torn away.

Finally the two of them surfaced for air. Loreen seemed almost startled to realize that I was still there, while Gwen appeared embarrassed.

Loreen looked at me as I looked at Gwen, and she smiled.

"Well, I've told you our little secret, and I have triggered Gwen's change. Now we have to see about completing your transition, don't we, Mike?"

I nodded. I now knew how Gwen had felt when asking Loreen about her second condition. Fear mixed with desire as I contemplated the completion of my journey.

Loreen led us back into the shop. I saw that she held Gwen's hand until they were in the public area again, and even then they remained close. Gwen's entire being seemed focused on Loreen, and her cheeks glowed a fierce red until after we left the store.

Loreen helped us retrieve our packages, but she wouldn't let us leave with them.

"Gwen will be staying with me" she said.

"I'll send someone around to pick up her clothes from your house, and I'll pick out some more for her here. You, in the meantime, need to do something about your hair"

She handed me a business card on which I saw the name and address of a hair salon. It was at least ten blocks away.

"I've already made arrangements. You ask for Denise, and she'll take care of you, dear. You can leave the packages here. I will have them delivered to Jack's place. There's no need for you to go home after getting your hair done."

She gave me another card, with the number of a taxi company.

"We've set up an account for you, so you needn't drive anymore. And here's a key to Jack's house. He won't be home until 6 or so: enough time for you to look your best"

I put the cards and the key in my purse and went to the exit, where a cab was already waiting. I still don't know how she arranged that.

"Where to, Miss" the driver said.

I had given him the address before I realized that I had responded automatically to being called 'Miss".

Part of me wanted to correct his mistake, but the greater part of me felt happy about his recognition of qualities in me which I had never prior to this day admitted to myself.

The ride to the beauty parlor was short and within five minutes I was walking into this shrine to American femininity.

I had never been inside a beauty parlor before, and looked around with interest.

The parlor had a pleasant waiting area, with low couches and coffee tables loaded with women's magazines. Large potted plants stood in two corners. The reception desk was directly ahead once I stepped inside and I was greeted by a cheerful young woman, about my age.

I was hesitant but she quickly put me at ease.

"You must be Aleisha" she said. "Loreen just called and told us that you were on your way. Denise will be right out. Have a seat, and can we get you anything to drink coffee or a soda?"

'Aleisha'. The name resonated in my mind and I was incapable of any speech beyond a mumbled "No thank you" to her offer of refreshments.

Two older women were seated, on different couches. They were engrossed in their magazines and had paid me no attention at all. I chose the third couch and sat nervously.

'Aleisha'... well I guess that coming here as Mike wouldn't really fit, especially the way I was dressed.

I picked through the selection of magazines on the coffee table in front of me. Mademoiselle, Chatelaine, Young & Modern, Women's World and so on. I chose one at random and began glancing through the pages. I wished that I had one of my romance novels in which I could lose myself. Then I realized with a start that all of this was not really me. My interest in romance novels had been superimposed upon my mind, just as had my acceptance that lingerie, skirts and blouses were appropriate dress for me.

I felt benumbed. Surely I should be screaming, outraged at my loss of self. But I continued to sit, with my knees together and my purse by my side, skimming the pages of a woman's magazine while waiting for Denise to make me look beautiful. I could almost hear a tiny voice deep inside, but it was too far away for me to make out the words. Besides, it wasn't important.

"Aleisha?"

I looked up. An attractive young woman was standing over me, looking down with an expectant expression. She held out her hand as I stood, smoothing my skirt. We shook hands lightly. In the past I had always tried to have a firm grip. With my slender physique I had tried to avoid any indication of being a wimp. Now, however, it was natural to just clasp hands lightly.

Denise led me into the next room where several barber's (or should they be hairdresser's chairs) stood in cubicles separated from each other by floor- standing panels in pastel shades.

All of the chairs except one were occupied and Denise led me to her cubicle and waited for me to settle into her chair.

"Loreen told me all about you, Aleisha" she said brightly, while turning my chair and lowering the back so that my head was resting in an oval cut-out in a sink

"She did?" I asked, feeling my mouth dry up. How much did Denise know? Did she know that I was really a boy?

"Yes, and I think it's really exciting" She was speaking quietly and I could hear enough noise from the neighboring cubicles that I wasn't afraid that anyone else would overhear.

"Loreen has been a client for years, and we share some of the same interests, if you know what I mean"

She busied herself with adjusting the temperature of the water and then began rinsing my hair.

"Just relax, honey" she said. "This is part of the fun of being a girl"

She did know! I became acutely aware of my situation. I was lying back in the chair, dressed as a girl and about to undergo a make- over. All in preparation for a date with a man with whom I thought I might be in love. There were many similarities between my situation and a romance novel.. but of course one huge difference. The feelings I had had been forced onto me. My desires were not mine at all. Or were they?

As I lay there, feeling Denise's ministrations and half-listening to her cheerful commentary, my thoughts turned to an analysis of my position. I knew that I was incapable of fully dealing with what had happened to me. There was a layer of acceptance within me that prevented me from getting angry or from listening to that faint inner voice. An image of Gwen in Loreen's embrace flashed before me. She had seemed so happy, so passionately in love. Would she change her position in life now, even if she were offered the chance to return to being a boy? Could she even do it, with the memory of feeling like a girl still inside her? Could it happen to me? I had not yet crossed that Rubicon, of surrendering to my pre- destined lover, but I knew that that moment lay ahead for me tonight. How would I react?

I felt a familiar stirring in my groin and was again glad that my penis was well-restrained. No matter that Denise knew my true nature; I would be mortified to reveal an erection in these circumstances.

My reveries were interrupted by Denise raising the back of the chair, with my hair now wrapped in a towel.

She dried the excess moisture form my hair with a vigorous rubbing and then began to comb it out.

"You're very lucky, Aleisha" she said.

"You've got very thick hair. Most girls like you have thin hair and even with conditioning it never really looks right. But yours is fine. I can give you a great style!"

I had always liked my hair long, and had let it grow even before I enrolled in the study. Naturally, I had not done anything to shorten it since and it was more than shoulder length.

Denise cut and trimmed, keeping up her banter as she did so. I began to feel relaxed and my mind began to drift.

The pungent smell of the lotion she was rubbing into my hair got my attention.

"What's that?" I asked.

She was giving me a perm!

It took several minutes for her to put my hair in rollers, and then she placed my head under a drier.

"There. In twenty minutes, you'll look wonderful"

"In the meantime, we have a special treat in store for you"

She went away, to return in a few seconds with two other young women.

"This is Felicia, and this is Christie" she said. "They are going to pamper you, so lie back and enjoy it!"

The next twenty minutes was the a strange but enjoyable experience.

Felicia took my left hand and began giving me a manicure while Christie used a pair of tweezers on my eyebrows. Yes, it hurt, but as she said, we girls have to suffer to be truly beautiful.

Christie had finished both eyebrows long before Felicia moved to my other side and began working on my right hand. In the meantime she gave me a facial.

I'd heard about facials but had never had one before. It was wonderfully relaxing and I allowed my mind to resume its tendency to drift off.

All good things come to an end and in due course Christie and Felicia were finished. I looked at my hands with interest.

My nails were now a pleasing oval shape and the cuticles had been carefully trimmed back. They were definitely the hands of a girl rather than of a boy. She had even painted them, a more subtle shade of red than I might have chosen for myself.

I could not see my face, since my back was turned to the mirrored wall, but my skin tingled with vitality.

Denise came back and lifted the drier off my head. She pronounced herself satisfied and began removing the rollers, while carefully combing out my hair.

It felt different even though I could still not see myself. It felt as if I had a lot more hair and yet at the same time as if it weighed less than it had. She brushed it lightly, and fussed around me for a minute or so, her eyes examining my hair carefully.

Finally she straightened and moved behind me.

"Close your eyes, honey" she said.

I felt the chair turn, and then she told me to take a look.

I gasped for breath when I saw the image reflected back at me. It was the same feeling I'd had when I had tried on the dress at Dalmy's.

My hair now barely reached my shoulders. It cascaded in soft waves down either side of my face, emphasizing its oval shape and somehow, subtly making my features, always on the small side for a boy, even smaller and more delicate. My eyebrows were thin arches over my astonished eyes. I saw streaks of a reddish color in my brown hair, which seemed richer, fuller than it had ever been before. A yawning pit opened in my stomach as I briefly imagined how I would look now when I put on that dress. An image of Jack Franklin's smiling face flashed into my mind and a warmth flooded into my stomach, filling and banishing the fear I had just experienced.

"You like?" I heard Denise say, her smile evident in her tone.

I nodded and watched the girl in the mirror duplicate my movement. There was no doubt but that she liked what she saw, and that 'she' was me!

"Loreen told me that tonight's a special night for you. You've got the hair, and the girls did a good job on your hands and face, but you really need a professional makeup job. We'll make you look like a movie star, honey"

She led me through to another area, in the back of the parlor.

She introduced me to yet another attractive young woman.

"This is Cindy" she said.

"Cindy is our best aesthetician, and she'll look after you"

My mind was still in turmoil. I had received so many surprises and had felt so many new sensations that perhaps I was becoming overwhelmed. Whatever the reason, I have few memories of the session with Cindy.

I do remember that she spent an enormous amount of time on my eyes, using at least four different colors of eyeshadow in addition to eye-liner and mascara. She used three different colors on my lips alone!

When I was eventually allowed to open my eyes I looked expectantly towards the mirror. The vision I saw hardly affected me. I suppose that I was becoming accustomed to seeing a beautiful girl look back at me. This one looked far more sophisticated than the earlier editions, and somewhat older. The biggest difference was a sense that she was not merely comfortable with looking like a sexual object, but happy and proud to be one. Did I really feel that way? It was an uncomfortable thought and I found myself averting my gaze. Whereas on earlier revelations I had been unable to take it all in and had felt a need to look at my reflection for longer than I had been permitted, now I was afraid to do so. Could that image take me over? Had it already done so?

Cindy escorted me to the front of the beauty parlor. The other three girls made sure to greet me and to wish me luck as I walked past their stations.

A cab was waiting for me and I climbed in the back. Cindy leaned in the front passenger window and gave the cabby the address. It was Dr. Franklin's address.

Maybe I should have called out to direct him to take me home. Maybe it wasn't too late.

Perhaps I could have gone home and scrubbed this makeup off my face. I could have showered for an hour. A long cold shower might have cleared my mind so that I could resist the spell under which I had fallen. I could have regained my masculinity. Maybe even helped Gwen recover hers.

But of course I did nothing. I sat, immersed in my own thoughts, my hands moving occasionally of their own volition to touch my hair in wonder. I spent several minutes just staring at my new- look fingers.

"We're here, Miss" the driver said.

I was confused. For a second I had no idea where we were, and then I fumbled for my purse.

I saw his eyes in the rear-view mirror.

"It's all paid for, Miss" he said. He sounded like a nice man. Maybe he could help me?

But he couldn't. He wouldn't even believe me if I tried to tell him. No, my destiny was already fixed.

I climbed out of the cab and made my way up the path. I remembered the last time I had walked on these paving stones, after Dr. Franklin had almost moved too quickly. He must be confident now. I thought back to the sound of his voice on the telephone this morning. Yes, he was confident, and, I thought with a wry inner smile, with good reason.

The key Loreen had given me opened the door.

An envelope with 'Aleisha' printed in large capitals on the front lay on the small table to the right of the door. The table had been pulled forward, away from the wall so that it would have been impossible to miss it.

'Aleisha'. The name echoed in my mind.

I picked up the envelope. It was of a heavy, very white paper, and inside was a crisply folded note on equally fine stock.

'My Dear, you know where your room is... in case you forgot it's up the stairs and the second door on the right. Your clothes are all there. Take your time dressing. I will be home shortly. We will have dinner.. the caterers will provide our service.. and then the evening is ours. I am looking forward to tonight more than you can imagine...'

It was signed in a bold hand.

"Jack' was all he had signed.

I made my way up the stairs, clutching the note and the envelope in one hand, as if I needed the feel of his written instructions in order to make it to the room.

The room was exactly as I remembered it, which I suppose was no surprise given that only 24 hours had passed since I was here last. Only 24 hours, yet so much had changed. Then I had still been a boy, at least in my own mind. Now, I knew that I could never really claim that gender again, but was I truly a girl? A shudder ran through my body as my mind shied away from that thought.

There was no sign of any of my parcels, but a look n the closet where I had found the slip-dress yesterday revealed that my new gown was there. The bureau drawers revealed all my lingerie acquisitions of this afternoon.

I took my new underwear out of the drawers and laid it on the bed. Standing motionless, I looked down at my pretties lying on the soft satin duvet.

'Mike' I said to myself.

'It's put up or shut up, girl"

I had intended to say to myself: 'It's put up or shut up, boy', meaning that this was the last chance I might have to break the control that Dr. Franklin had imposed upon me.

Hearing me refer to myself in my own thoughts as 'girl' tore a sob from my throat. There was no use!

I shook myself mentally and began undressing.

I removed my shoes first and then undid the belt that held my skirt around my waist. The zipper was on the side and I quickly stepped out of the skirt and carefully lay it beside my new clothes.

Then came my blouse, which I placed on the back of a chair.

I was down to my camisole, bra, panties and nylons, which were held by my garterbelt.

I pulled the camisole of over my head, being acutely aware, for the first time, of the size of my breasts. It shocked me to realize how large they had grown, all without my ever wondering about what was going on.

Pulling my bra straps off my shoulder, I pulled it down, releasing my breasts. I turned it around to get the hooks in front and then took it off.

I walked over to the vanity and stood looking at my reflected breasts. I put a hand under each and lifted, feeling the warm weight of each mammary. They were not large; I wouldn't likely get a job in any bar called Hooters. But they were far more than the budding breasts one might see on a girl just entering puberty. Even the aureoles had grown: they were now wide brown circles from which my nipples protruded. I could both feel and see them become erect as I fondled my breasts. Exquisite sensations flickered through me as I fingered those proud displays of my new status.

I was finding myself getting deeper into internal conflicts. Part of me relished the sensations I was invoking while part of me recoiled in horror. It was this sense of turmoil that pulled me away from the mirror to resume my disrobing.

I took off my panties, and my penis sprang into view between my legs. It had several times engorged with blood and threatened to pop free and form an embarrassing tent-pole in my skirt, but fortunately that had not happened. I scratched it idly with one hand while stepping out of my panties.

Then it was off with garter-belt. I sat down on the bed to remove my nylons, rolling them down my smooth-skinned legs one at a time.

I was now naked. The thought of a shower occurred to me, but I dismissed it immediately because it would ruin my makeup.

I walked around the room, reveling in the feel of the plush carpet between my toes. The room was warm and I enjoyed the sense of freedom I experienced. My breasts bounced a little; they were too firm to move much, but I was acutely aware of the weight and the pull on my pectoral muscles. Once again I marveled at how I had not noticed them except in passing.

My penis also swung loose, and I realized that I was one of the few people who would ever feel this dual sensation.

A fullness in my bladder prompted me to use the en-suite bathroom, which I saw was equipped with a bidet. I was fascinated by the various taps and tubes and spouts.

It was while I was washing my hands that I saw another white envelope with my new name printed on it, lying beside the washbasin.

It contained instructions to douche, using the douche kit I found in the cabinet behind the mirror.

It took several minutes for these instructions to sink in. My initial reaction was 'He's got to be kidding'.

But I was already opening the plastic package and reading the instructions. Soon I had completed my douche, although I know that I had cleaned a different opening than the manufacturer's had intended.

Feeling weirder than ever, I walked back into the bedroom to get dressed.

The first item was the garterbelt and nylons. The nylons were my favorite shade of black with a delicate pattern woven into the gossamer fabric. I know that I was simply repeating tasks which had recently become routine, but tonight seemed different. Perhaps it was the knowledge that I had been designed to be a sexual object. Whatever the reason, every action seemed laden with sensual meaning. Those nylons felt delicious on my smooth skin, and the gentle tug that the slightest movement caused them to exert against my garterbelt served to heighten my awareness of my femininity.

The new panties were much the same as my other pair, but perhaps a little more delicate. They were made of black silk, with high-cut leg openings trimmed in lace. The silken tube which Loreen had demonstrated to fit comfortably over my penis and held it securely between my legs. I was surprised at how flat it made my groin appear. Next came the bra. It was strapless and I had a difficult time getting the hooks fastened. It was a much tighter fit around my chest than I was used to, and it took me a few seconds to wrestle it around once the hooks had been secured.

The bra had half-cups, in scalloped black lace. They were strongly wired, and the result was to hold my already firm breasts even higher,, while pushing them together. I realized that I would show more cleavage than usual.

Then I stepped into my slip and it was time for the dress.

My breath was caught in my throat as I gently pulled the dress, on its hanger, from the closet.

I moved slowly, taking extreme care, as I stepped into the dress and pulled it up around my body. It felt every bit as divine as it had when I had first tried it on.

Unable to stop myself, I walked back towards the mirrored closet door. I turned back and forth, trying different expressions on my face. First I looked demure, then in sequence, surprised, shocked and then, with an inner thrill, I tried a sexy come-hither look.

Something was missing, even though I thought that I looked wonderful.

I looked around, and my eyes lit upon the vanity. Sure enough, several perfume spray bottles stood in plain view. I selected Chanel No. 5. The memories of the commercials that seeing that simple vial brought back made it no decision at all.

I sprayed my wrist and then dabbed some on my neck behind my ears. Then with a feeling of wantonness, I dabbed some between my breasts.

I opened the musical jewelry box, smiling when I heard the chimes repeat the tune I had heard last night. I chose a simple gold chain with a small diamond pendant to wear around my neck. I thought of trying on other jewelry, but decided against it. My stomach lurched as I saw the ankle bracelet. I picked it up and again read the inscription; Aleisha - Property of Jack Franklin.

No, I couldn't wear it. Something told me it was still not time, although that time was very close.

All that was left were the shoes. I had no idea how much time had gone by. Was I going to be dressed too early. Would I have to wait, dressed to the nines, but with nowhere to go?

The soft ringing of a telephone interrupted my thoughts. I traced the sound to a white Princess phone on a nightstand next to the bed.

I picked up the receiver and held it to my ear.

"Aleisha?" I heard. It was Jack, and once again my body reacted involuntarily. A brief dizziness passed through me and I felt a tautness in my panties.

"Yes, Jack" I said.

"Are you ready, my dear?"

"Almost. I just have to put on my shoes."

"Very well. I will be waiting for you downstairs"

He disconnected.

More nervous than ever, I hurriedly selected a pair of moderately heeled shoes, with a closed toe and open back. I had to sit in one of the chairs to do up the ankle straps, and had to be careful to smooth my dress beneath me as I sat.

And then I was ready. I opened the door and walked down the hall towards the stairs. Butterflies filled my stomach and my throat was dry.

Part 3

The click of my heels seemed incredibly loud as I walked along the hardwood floor. My senses were alive. The tantalizing scent of my perfume accentuated the sensual feel of my clothing. The swish of silk on silk, the cool tingling in my stockinged legs, the tug of my nylons against my garters with every pace caused me to feel an all-consuming mixture of terror and anticipation.

The stairs presented a challenge which required all of my faltering concentration. I had never walked down a long staircase on heels and in such a long skirt. I found myself holding up my skirt with my left hand while clutching the handrail with my right. I focussed on walking on the balls of my feet so as not to lose my balance. I was glad that there was no-one watching me as I gingerly made my way downstairs.

Once again I was led onwards by the sound of music from the living room.

Dr. Franklin was standing this time, and I thought for a second that I had interrupted some nervous pacing.

Last time I had entered this room I had been wearing a pretty slipdress, and had been as careful as I could be with my makeup. But I had still been thinking of myself as a boy. Now, with my professionally applied makeup, newly coiffed hair, and my gorgeous dress, I knew that whatever I was, I could not think of myself as at all masculine. I knew that he saw me as his feminine dream, and I also knew that much of me wanted, yearned, to be that dream for him.

His appreciative smile settled the butterflies a little. He walked towards me and took my right hand in his. He raised my hand to his lips and kissed it lightly on the back, while looking at my reaction. I felt something was called for and before I could consciously react, I made a little curtsey. His smile braodened and, without letting go of my hand he led me into the dining room.

"I've ben waiting for you all my life" he said.

"And tonight you will become mine!"

"But first" he said, as we entered a large dining room furnished in mahogany and with an enormous crystal chandelier suspended over the long, dinner table covered with brilliant white damask and gleaming silverware, "First, we dine"

The table was set for two, with several different wine glasses beside each place setting.

He pulled back a chair for me, and I obediently sat. I had not spoken a word since I had arrived at the house, and it seemed as if my power to speak had been taken from me. He continued, as if oblivious to my silence, as if my lack of response was only to be expected. Perhaps it was, perahps my role in this performance had been carefully scripted; my actions somehow memorised by my subconscious brain from those tapes I had played so faithfully.

Dinner passed in a haze. I was aware, dimly, of a uniformed maid appearing and reappearing, bringing a series of dishes and plates to the table and removing them when we were finished. I do recall that my servings were small, and that I was unable to eat most of what was provide to me, even though it was all delicious.

I recall, also, sipping at the wine which Jack Franklin poured into my galss from time to time. thre was a different wine with each course; I vaguely remember a white, perhaps a Chardonnay, with the salad, and a strong, full-bodied red witht he entree. I drank as sparingly as I ate.

It seemed that it was enough for me to listen to Jack as he talked. He ate with great enjoyment and told me, between bites of food and swallows of wine, of his childhood. He told me of how his father had always been a loving husband and caring parent. Yes, he said, his father had often dressed as a woman, but that had seemed so natural to Jack and his sister, Loreen. It was only as he grew up and other children began describing what their fathers did for a living that he realized that his father was unusual. The family moved a good deal, and he learned early to keep quiet about his father's lifestyle Nevertheless, it frequently happened that the secret would become known in the neighbourhood and soon Jack and Loreen would be subjected to crule taunts.

Jack grew more sombre when he talked about the pain that these unkind children had caused him and his family, but he brightened as he described how his parents had remained firmly in love. They were both in showbusiness; his mother as a nightclub singer. It was how they had met, and while they were an unlikely couple they had truly seemed destined for each other. He said that it was not until years later that he realized that his father had been bisexual. There had often been male friends around the home, altough these friends seemed to change at each new town and each new engagement. There had been women too, and he now understood that his parents had each enjoyed the attentions of lovers of the same gender. He mused that perhaps he had always known, in some inner secret manner, of this aspect of his parents' lives and that that might explain why he and Loreen had ended up with their distinctive sexual desires.

It was as if he had to justify himself to me. As if he could, by explaining his life story, make me feel that what he ahd doen to me and Greg, and others in the 'study' was 'right'.

I remember sitting there, smiling at him and nodding from time to time while pecking at my food and sipping the wine. His speech had, I think, the oposite effect to what I assume he intended. I had sat down feeling a powerful attraction to him; a feeling that this was my destiny.

But as the meal passed and I sat in silent, captured, attention, it was as if my inner mind had time to think and to examine what was happening.

I was still very much aware of my feminine appearance. I felt pretty, and part of me felt proud that I could be so attractive. But that inner voice which I had been ignoring for so long was becoming louder and more insistent. Several times I squirmed in my chair as that part of me tried in vain to take control of my body and make me leave; make me run screaming from this house.

He must have noticed, because partway through dessert he raised his napkin to his lips and said:

"I've been boring you, Aleisha. It's time we moved on"

He picked up the small bell that sat on the table tohis left and gave it a shake. The maid came in answer to his summons and he told her that she could leave.

"Don't worry about the table or the dishes. You can do them tomorow"

She thanked him and wished the two of us a pleasnat evening.

Did she know? I wondered. Would she help if I called out?

The moment was gone before I could even attempt to say anything.

Jack stood and held back my chair as I got up. He led me back to the living room where he stopped and turned, drawing me into his arms.

I resisted. Yes, I actually stiffened in his arms. However, he only held me tighter and then he lowered his mouth to mine.

The warmth of his lips surprised me, as did their firmness. He was clean-shaveen but even so I felt the bristles of his stubble. His kiss was so unlike any I had ever experienced, but then I had never been kissed by a man before... not counting Gwen of course.

His lips released mine quickly and he pulled back a few inches to gaze down at me, gauging my reaction.

The kiss had banished all thought of resistance. I wanted more and my expression must have confirmed this because he kissed me again, with his arms around me and his male scent filling my nostrils.

I closed my eyes involuntarily and clung to him with a fervour born of a desparate need. I felt his tongue probe my lips and I opened my mouth to allow him entry. My body felt alive, and I felt blood flowing to my constricted penis. I was reacting physically to this man, and I welcomed my reaction with my entire being.

Then a cold sense of reality broke in on me. It was as if I were standing outside myself, watching the two of us in our lustful embrace. I could picture in my mind the tall, handsome man kissing his beautiful girl, but I knew that that beautiful girl was really a young man who had been conditioned into thinking that he was really a girl; a girl in love with his tormentor. Shame and humiliation rose within me like a tide, but not matter how strongly that tide swept through my consciousness, it made no difference to the physical sensations I experienced, and it had no impact on my actions. To my imaginary observer, I remained passionately attracted to my lover.

We broke our embrace, boith of us breathing hard. I could see that his pupils were dilated and my must have been as well since I could see him with greater clarity than I had ever seen anyone. How could that be? I was both repulsed by what I was doing and enormously turned on.

He bent and put one arm behind my knees while his other was beneath my shoulders. Before I could react, he had lifted me of the floor and began walking to the stairs.

I know that I had lost considrable weight, and that Jack was a tall, sinewy man, but I was still overwhelmed by this display of strength. If anyhting could reinforce my self-image as a helpless female in the possession of her powerful male lover, it was the feeling I had as he rapidly climbed the stairs as if I weighed nothing at all.

He pushed open the door into the room where I had dressed earlier that evening and carried me across to the bed, where he lowered me carefully to the satin cover.

He kissed me oncemore, his hands roaming over my body. Electrical impulses tingled in my nipples as his firm fingers stroked therm throug the material of my dress. I could feel his erection straining against his trousers, and pressing against me as we clung to each other.

"My darling Aleisha" he breathed.

"I need you now!"

"At last I found my voice. But it was not a voice which spoke of my inner feelings. No, it was a voice which spoke the role for which he had so painstakingly, and so masterfully, prepared me.

"Oh God, Jack. Please take me!"

He stood up and looked down at me.

"I think Loreen found you something for this moment" he said.

Of course! I stood up and hurried to the closet. Why was I doing this? I was a puppet, and yet despite my new-found repugnance, some part of me cried out, welcoming the chance to surrender. That part of me yearned for his embrace, yearned to be able to wear the ankle bracelet which I glimpsed still resting on the vanity. To wear it with a sense of pride and joy. My inner war made no difference to the apparent eagerness with which I responded to Jack. I opened the closet door and found my nightgown. I pulled it out, concealing it against my body.

"Don't look" I commanded as I hurried past him to the bathroom.

Once inside, with the door closed, I began to undress. I was frantic with need, but even so I made myself be careful not to tear any of my clothing.

I was down to my panties and nylons. I pulled my penis out of it's confining tube and realized that there was no hiding it now. I was already semi-erect. Oh my God, I thought to myself. My body wants him.

Of came the nylons and on came the nightgown. I looked at myself in the mirror before returning to the bedroom and the fate which I knew awaited me there.

Slender black silk straps stood out against my cream-coloured skin. Delicate lace half-hid and half-exposed my breasts. My nipples were erect and I could feel the lace of my bodice against them. I had never realized how stimulating that would be. The black satin clung to my torso, emphasizing the unexpected flare of my hips. The lace trim extended the hem by several inches, but it was cut so short that my half-erect penis was clearly visible, causing an obvious bulge. There was nothing I could do about that so I smiled at my reflection, pulled my shoulders back, and opened the door.

I swept back into the bedroom.

Jack was naked himself, and standing beside the bed.

My attention was immediately drawn to his penis. He was very well endowed, at least eight inches and much thicker than mine. It rew as I watched, coming fully erect as soon as he saw me. For some reason that made me feel very warm inside, and my own penis stiffened in response. I was as hard as I had ever been in my life and I was mesmerized by my sight of Jack's powerful body and rampant penis. My inability to control my physical reaction only added to my inner shame.

"Come here" he said, his voice very husky, as if his throat were clogged.

I moved towards him. I could feel the plush carpet between my toes. My own perfume floated around me. I felt cool air on my bare shoulders and legs and the delicious whisper of satin and lace on my body as I crossed the room towards my lover.

We kissed; gently this time,with just a touch of our lips. A sigh escaped from me as our lips parted. I felt pressure on my shoulders as he used his hands to encourage me to kneel.

I sank to the floor before him, keeping my eyes closed as they had been when we kissed. Only when I was kneeling before him did I open them.

There, bobbing just incehes away was his penis. I was fascinated. I could see a small trace of fluid at the tip and I reached out with the tip of my tongue to taste. It was as if I were just trying to get the smallest possible taste of some delightful ice- cream cone. I could not believe this. I was acting like a girl in heat, and indeed my body felt more alive than I could ever remember feeling. Whether the real me agreed or not, my body was overwhelmingly attracted to this man.

I heard him groan as my tongue touchd him gently. That encouraged me to begin to lick his penis, up and down that straining, throbbing shaft.

"Aleisah, suck me!" I heard him say, desire rendering his voice hoarse.

I opened my lips into an 'O" shape and bent froward, taking as much of my lover into my mouth as I could. I was new to this, but I was determined to do the best I could. I sucked slowly, moving my head up and down, savouring the warm velvety feeling. My own penis throbbed in sympathy.

He began to move back and forth, in time to my administrations and the pace quickened. I thought that he was about to come and I sucked harde, while using my hand to stroke the part of his poenis I could not get into my mouth. It was as if I were on auto-pilot. Once more an image appeared in my struggling mind, an image of me kneeling before him, lost in my worship of his cock. It was a nightmare, and one from which there was no escape.

Then I felt his hands on either side of myhead and he pulled me back. His penis pulled out of my mouht with a plopping sound, its skin wet with my saliva and the purple head seeming even larger than before.

"No, Darling. The first time has to be inside you"

He lifted me up and then lowered me to the bed. He turned me over onto my stomach and told me to raise myself onto my elbows and knees.

By now I was truly acting, and feeling, like a bitch in heat and I obeyed, pleading with him to hurry.

He opened a jar of KY which was on the nightstand. Obviously this was the long-plaaned denounement of a carefully thought-out scheme.

He used his fingers to gently massage my rectum, fitting first one then two and then three fingers inside me.

I had never experienced anything like the sensations he caused with those fingers. I thought I was going to cum when I felt him inside me initially. As it was I squealed in delight. My inner humiliation

He worked patiently even though I was gasping and beging him to fuck me. I wanted him inside me, takimg me and establishing his ownership of me.

He pulled his fingers back and climbed up behind me. He pushed my legs further apart and knelt between them.

I felt something warm and hard against my rectum and then a firm pressure.

He entered slowly, and at first I felt only pleasure. But he kept on penetrating deeper and deeper. God, he was huge! It became painful and then excruciatingly painful. I wanted to call out for him to stop, and I wanted to call out for him to continue!

Finally he stopped. he was allthe way inside me and I felt his body leaning forwardover my rear. His breath was coming heavy. He waited and I could feel my insides relax, as my body adjusted to his presence within me. Then he began tomove, slowly pulling back and thenpushing forward again. The paineased wiht each repetition and soon it transmuted into pleasure.

His rythythm increased as he sensed my acceptance of him and before long I was moving myhips in time to him, urging him deeper and deeper inside me.

Moans were torn from my lips as I called out for him to fuck me harder. I could feel sweat drop from his bdy into mine as he strained away at me. His strokes were becoming shorter and more powerful as I felt a hand grasp my penis and begin to masturbate me in time with his passion.

Then we came. Both at the same time

(to be continued)