This is a story for those who enjoy reading about forced hormonal feminization, not just guys dressing up in female clothes. It tells what happens when two young boys are send to a unique school where--much to the younger one's surprise--they undergo special physical and hormonal treatment programs. The younger one is given female hormones (against his knowledge, untl it is too late), his roommate is given male hormones that turn him into a super masculine stud, with predictable results.
This story contains some graphic scenes. Please do not read it if this topic disturbs you.
Boarding With Jim at New Outlooks
a10_1@yahoo.com
Ever since he'd first moved in next door ten years ago, Jim and I had been best friends. He was a year and a half older than me, so he always seemed to know more cool stuff to do -- more about places to hang out and things to keep us busy. We went to the same school and had similar interests, and our families were both Italian, which made for rather interesting family get-togethers. I guess you could say we were typical young teenagers.
Another summer was drawing to a close, but it had definitely been a good one. Jim, me, and a couple of our friends had hung out quite often, and we were able to spend awesome amounts of time playing football, soccer, and various other sports. We had actually formed two mini football teams, and in the last game I was pleased to have scored several times. (We have that game on tape). At one point a guy on my team threw me the ball, and I ran, viciously smashing into Jim and knocking him down, all the way to the most exciting touchdown I think I've ever scored. Jim and I definitely respected each other's athletic abilities.
But my favorite times were when he and I would go camping alone in the woods not far from our houses. There was a perfect spot about a two mile hike away, and we had spent a couple nights out there this summer. Jim would sneak some of his older brother's girly magazines out of the house, and in the tent at night we would sit up and he would show them to me. He really enjoyed those magazines. Sometimes he would get so horny and excited by them that he would just reach down and start playing with himself right there next to me. I quickly learned that doing as he was doing was enjoyable, though I realized it was more because he was there with me than because I was into looking at the pictures of women. There was something about his dark brown hair and big pleasant grin I found captivating. Being with him at times like that even made me horny. I never told him this (he would have thought I was weird), but I enjoyed time with him just the same.
It was that August, a few months before I turned fourteen, that we learned his parents were sending him to a special small boarding junior and senior high school in North Carolina. It was called the New Outlooks school, and was really far away. I didn't know much about it, but begged my parents to send me, too. Since both we and our families were such good friends, Jim had his parents talk to mine and even got them to consider it.
After what seemed like forever, my parents finally brought up the subject of deciding whether or not to send me along. "Do you -really- want to go, Matt? Are you sure? This is such a big step." I couldn't understand why they were making such a big deal of it (I knew they could afford it). Eventually, they saw my mind was made up and agreed. As Jim told me more details about the school (though he seemed to be holding back some information) he said he was glad I'd be there with him in such a new, far-away place.
Because of a late registration problem, we ended up arriving two weeks after the rest of the students. Because of its size, the New Outlooks school only accepted one new class of students every two years, so we were greatful to have gotten in by the deadline. We got there just before noon the first Sunday in September. The best news came just after our arrival: the school was willing to let us be roommates. After an emotional drop-off from all of the parents involved, Jim and I brought our bags to our room. The dorm area was arranged by the year students came to the school; our room was the last one in a hall of students who had just arrived at the school two weeks earlier. The rooms were nice -- each had a full bathroom, two beds, dressers, and desks. After setting down our things, we proceeded to the front desk, to begin the school's full orientation program.
Halfway through orientation, while we were shown the athletic facilities, we were told we would be undergoing a "preliminary check." They said it was part of orientation, so although we were surprised, we figured we might as well get it out of the way. The director did all the usual health checks, from eyes and ears to scoliosis screening. We were then brought into the weight room for strength tests, before returning to the director's office.
While we were waiting, the director and a guy who looked like a doctor were quietly discussing our entry to the school on the other side of the room. We could only hear part of what they were saying.
"He is ... almost fourteen, the other fifteen and a half," said the director. "The older one ... blue," said the doctor. "The younger one ... not even a year into ... so the treatment ... effective on him...pink."
The director nodded, and gestured for us to come over. He immediately asked Jim to hold out his arms. He then snapped light blue colored plastic bands on Jim's wrists and ankles. When my turn came, I was surprised to find that the bands put on me were pink in color. We asked what they were for. The director said that though we were roommates, our age difference made it best for us to be in separate programs. The bands, which he said we had to wear at all times, were the symbols for these programs. Jim was what was going to be what they called a "Blueband," and I was to be a "Pinkband." The explanation was strange, but we accepted it, and a few minutes later we continued with orientation.
We learned that the school had a strict (and very thorough) dress code, with Bluebands and Pinkbands each required to wear very specific clothing. The school was big on physical education, with which many classes were intermixed, so most of the clothes we were given were similar to gym clothes. Bluebands, like Jim, were assigned loose athletic shirts (tank top style), trim sweat pants or windbreaker pants, and athletic shorts, all in colors of navy blue, green, or black. They were permitted their choice of boxer shorts or briefs, and they were encouraged to wear jock straps during more serious forms of athletic activity. Clothing for Pinkbands (like me) was theoretically similar, but there were a few curious differences -- all Pinkband clothes were of a few shades of pastel, or white. The clothes were also cut differently -- the special athletic shirts were short-sleeved, like a very short sleeved t-shirt only much tighter fitting (especially on the shoulders), the sweats fit more loosely, and the shorts were split-legged and came up quite a bit higher on the legs (especially on the outsides). Pinkbands were assigned special bikini-type briefs, which came up even higher on the legs.They had very thin elastic at the top (unlike the boxers I was used to) and, although they fit snugly, they streched a lot and were soft, so I guessed they'd be comfortable. It felt wierd to admit it but they kind of looked a bit girly. Oddly, the director said since I was a Pinkband, I probably wouldn't need and wasn't being given a jock strap.
We were given our clothing and a break from orientation to go back to our rooms and get into the appropriate attire. As I was changing, one last thing about the clothes struck me as strange -- the shorts and sweats, regardless of whether they were for Bluebands or Pinkbands, all seemed to be cut closely between the legs. Because of this there was a bit of a bulge visible where the material draped over one's genitals. At first I was afraid I'd be the one with the smallest bulge, but I later noticed there were PinkBands who seemed to have smaller ones, so I didn't feel as self-conscious.
While we were still in the room the guys from the room across the hall popped in to introduce themselves. Their names were Chris and Pat. They were also best friends, and had come to the school from a small town in New Hampshire. We happened to be about the same ages, too -- Chris, like Jim, was fifteen and a half, and was a Blueband. He seemed like a good-looking all-American type of guy, with blond hair, blue eyes, and a square jaw, and he looked like he would be awesome at sports. Pat, a Pinkband, was about five months younger than me, and was looking forward to his fourteenth birthday in December. He, like Chris, had blond hair and blue eyes, though Pat was very much more of what you might call a "pretty boy." I thought he looked a little young for our age. We chatted for a few minutes and asked them how they liked the school. Chris said he loved the sports program, and Pat told us the cafeteria was pretty good. But by then Jim and I had to return for the rest of orientation, so we all agreed to hang out later at dinner.
Back in the director's office, Jim and I were told there was a strict day-to-day schedule which was to be observed, with punishment for those who did not comply. A normal day started at 7:30 with breakfast, by which time we were expected to have showered and thoroughly prepared ourselves for the day. By 8:00 we were to appear for our daily physical examinations, and then from 8:15, with only a few brief interruptions for lunch and exercise, classes were held until 4:00. Physical Education was held in the gym from then until our 6:30 dinner, and we were expected to study from 7:15 until lights-out at 9:15. We would be given hair cuts every five or six weeks.
Aside from a few ordinary enough differences as far as the classes we were taking, there were more things that seemed strange, though. There were differences in privileges depending on whether one was a Blueband or a Pinkband. Bluebands, for "physical and psychological release," were allowed to visit the gym and weight rooms at any time after study hours and before breakfast, as long as they felt they were getting enough sleep to keep up in their studies. They could also use whatever equipment they wanted in the gym -- everything from weight benches to nautilus machines -- while Pinkbands were only allowed to use smaller free weights, stair climbers and stuff like that. I wasn't sure why the school had these different standards, but I figured most of it probably wouldn't affect me all that much. I really just wanted to keep in shape, and with all that time devoted to class and study, I doubted I'd have much extra energy anyway.
Another strange thing I noticed is that the class above us (which had been at the school for two years now) didn't have any Pinkbands in it at all. Half of the older students were Bluebands, all looking a lot more mature than we did. The other half of the students were girls, all wearing yellow bands. There were no girls at all in our class, so I wondered if the school was phasing out its co-ed program. One of the other guys in our class said he heard that the school was trying several new experimental programs, so I figured that must have been it.
By the time we had gotten through the orientation program it was already 5:30. Jim and I were told that since it was so late, we would be given our initial examinations and would then be sent to the cafeteria for dinner. We were led down a long hallway into the nurse's office, where a fairly unremarkable-looking middle-aged woman directed us into two separate little rooms to wait for the doctor. I sat down on a chair in the corner and tried to relax, figuring it would probably take a while.
The room was a fairly typical medical exam room from what I could tell. It was painted a dull yellowish color, and looked like it had all the basic doctor's equipment and stuff. I had just begun to read a diagram on one of the walls when I heard a knock on the door. I remember being surprised by how short a wait it was.
"Hi, I'm Dr. Mark," said the emerging man. He was the same doctor we'd seen earlier in the director's office, maybe 50 years old and grey-haired, with a trim beard. A woman followed him in. She was a bit younger than him, and had medium-length and kind of flat brown hair. They both smiled pleasantly.
"This is Nurse Leigh," the doctor continued. "We're glad you and your friend are joining the school. Tonight we are going to give you our full exam to make sure you are healthy, so just relax. We'll be done in a few minutes."
Earlier, Jim and I had been told we would be recieving daily physical exams from this point on. Though I knew these were going to be shorter, less thorough goings-over, I was still curious why they thought we needed to be examined so often, so I figured I'd ask a few questions.
"Well," the doctor said, "Here at New Outlooks our goal isn't only to have you -learn- all kinds of things -- we also want to get you in your best -physical- condition. As you know you'll be going through a very special physical conditioning program and spending a lot of time in a unique Phys Ed program as well as the traditional classroom, so we're going to be keeping careful track of your progress."
Even though I thought I was in pretty good shape physical shape already, the explanation seemed pretty logical, and I really didn't feel the need to ask much more. I measured up at 5' 5 1/2" tall, and with my fairly trim athletic build weighed in at 125 Lbs. I sat on the exam table, and Doctor Mark gestured for me to lift my shirt. After probing for a bit and measuring my chest and arms in a few places, he wrote a couple things down on his clipboard. I wondered what he was thinking. Though I had not even yet reached 14, I had been proudly watching the early beginnings of body hair start to grow in over the past few months or so. While most of it was still in my pubic region, I already had a faint line of light hair running up to my belly button, and I knew the faint peach fuzz now growing on the center of my chest would soon be getting much darker and thicker. (I had just recently seen my 18-year old brother shirtless in the bathroom at home, and he had a really thick, very manly-looking chest of hair. All the men in our family had nice hairy chests; you could see we were Italian). But for now Jim had edge on me here -- the last time I caught a glimpse at his chest he had a small patch of darker hairs -- but considering he was a year and a half older than I was, I knew I'd catch up nicely.
My little daydream ended as Doctor Mark finished writing, and gestured for me to stand. He said he had to take a few pictures of me, and that these would be part of my normal, weekly medical exam to track my development. He had me step into a side room and told me remove all of my clothes. Then I had to stand in front of a plain wall while he snapped a picture of me in the nude (He took one picture with me facing him arms down, and one with my arms straight out to the sides. Then he took similar pictures with me facing the wall. I was really embarrassed by this point, but luckily it didn't take long, and he let me get re-dressed right away. Then we went back to the regular exam room where Nurse Leigh way waiting.
Next the doctor measured my waist and hips, then asked me to pull my sweats and underwear down a bit so he could continue the exam. I was a bit embarrassed with Nurse Leigh in the room, but I noticed she'd kept her back turned most of the time, and she seemed to be busy working with something on the counter. The doctor continued taking measurements with a couple pieces of equipment, even going to far as to record the size and mass of my testicles. The next part of the exam was a little strange, but I didn't want to seem like a wimp so I did as I was told. The Doctor quietly asked me to manipulate myself, as he needed to take one last measurement. Though I was very nervous, it only took a few moments before my member was standing at full attention. Without touching it, he held a tape measure next to me for a second, and then returned to his notes.
I was now considerably nervous, and Dr. Mark's next action didn't help. He turned to Nurse Leigh.
"3 3/4 inches flaccid, and not quite five erect," he reported. "Just smaller than average for the age; perfect." I was mortified. I felt myself blush and tighten up as she muttered a quiet "mm-hmm," turned around, and walked toward me holding a small bottle with a bright pink label and what looked like the most gigantic needle I'd ever seen! It looked like something that might be used for horses -- not people! My stomach was in knots, and I was now scared in addition to being completely embarrassed.
"Don't worry," she said, "This can be strange and frightening at first, but you'll get used to it. We are the only one's who will be looking at your med records and measurements."
Her comments did nothing to ease my tension. Nurse Leigh stepped next to me with the lance of a needle. She turned the bottle upside down and began drawing clear fluid into the syringe. I was even more tense now. I wondered if the pink bottle had anything to do with my being put in the Pinkband part of the program. "Here," she said. "It'll be over soon enough."
In a matter of seconds she had pulled down the back of my sweats. I felt a sharp sting and was in agony for what seemed like forever. But eventually it stopped.
"I'm sorry," Dr. Mark said. "You know, the calmer you are, the less the needles will hurt. But if it makes any difference, most of your shots will be much smaller than this one. This was a special preparatory mixture to help begin conditioning your body. We shouldn't need to give you this much at once from this point on."
"-Most of my shots-," -- "From this point on?" His attempt to comfort me definitely did nothing of the sort. The thought of routine needles certainly was not pleasant. But the exam was finally over, and I was relieved to be able to finally leave the room.
As I stepped out I saw Jim was already in the waiting area, and he, too, seemed a bit shaken up. Before we left, the doctor told us he wanted us both to come in an hour and a half early for our exam the following morning. We were both very quiet as we walked through the dimmly-lit halls to the cafeteria. It was at this time I also learned that there were dietary differences between the pink and blueband programs. While Bluebands could eat whatever they wanted (Jim immediately requested a steak), Pinkbands were not allowed to consume meat, cheese, or beans over the first three months they were at the school. The only dairy foods we were permitted were milk and yogurt, and these were special vitamin-fortified varieties that Bluebands were not allowed. It was kind fo strage to suddenly not be able to eat protein foods, but at this point it wasn't something I was very concerned with.
We took our trays and sat down next to Chris and Pat, both of whom were still a bit sweated from the Phys Ed they just gotten back from. Pat turned out to be right -- the food actually was excellent -- but I was too sick to my stomach to eat much.
"It'll pass eventually," Pat said. "I'm still not fully used to it, but its not as bad after the first week."
Oddly, Jim and Chris seemed a bit unsure of what we were talking about. Jim said he was a little sore from a needle, but that otherwise he felt fine. Chris said about the same thing; though the needles hurt a bit, he hadn't been nausious at all since he and Pat arrived two weeks ago. Pat said he thought my upset stomach had something to do with the injections they were giving Pinkbands like me and him, but that other Pinkbands had also mentioned most of the queasiness passes in time. In any case, we all finished our dessert and headed back to our rooms.
Later that night I had a headache in addition to the nausia. Before either of us had fallen asleep I built up my courage and fired a question out of the blue at Jim. "Jim...about the shot they gave you," I said, "...Was the bottle they took the stuff from pink?"
"No," he answered, laughing as if I was being ridiculous. "It was blue."
I had a hard time getting to sleep that night. The room was so hot I found myself sweating quite often -- and strangely, I also was shivering from the cold now and then. At one point during the night I overheard a rustling sound from over at Jim's bed. I realized what he was doing and tried not to listen. But despite my nausea, just as it has been during our occassional camping trips, the rhythmic sound was fascinating and I found myself horny and also masturbating, secretly trying to time my release to his. A few minutes later it was over, and I finally drifted off to sleep.
By morning I was now quite sleepy in addition to lightheaded. I also felt a little depressed. After quickly getting ready, we proceeded to the Nurse's office early, as we were suppposed to. I was starting to get scared again, but even Jim said I should try to relax. He said he had slept fine and felt great, and that I might just be a bit under the weather from the change in surroundings. Since it was Jim saying this, after all, I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.
The exam I had that morning included a procedure that was every bit as strange as some of the others. The Doctor said I would only be recieving it twice, though: once during this exam and once next week. After Nurse Leigh left the room, he put on a pair of latex gloves and approached me with two jars. One jar was full of this bright pink colored cream, and the other with a sticky-looking clear gel. After almost completely filling a small plastic sleeve or sheath (it looked like a very big condom with a tight ring around the base) with the clear substance, he gestured for me to remove my sweats, as he needed to apply some of the other cream to my genital area.
I hesitated, but he assured me that this wouldn't hurt. "Come on, now," he said, "it really won't. This is a special cream to help deal with your development." When I was still hesitant, he quickly got very impatient. "You know, I might add that you don't have a choice on this matter. This is a required procedure, and if you don't at least try to cooperate I can recommend disciplinary action. Do you really want to be -in trouble-?"
I quickly shook my head. As I slowly lowered the front of my sweats, he handed me what looked like a clear plastic bag. Actually, I realized it was kind of like underwear, with elastic around the leg holes and waist. After applying a very thick coating of the bright pink cream on my genitals, Doctor Mark slid the plastic sleeve/sheath all the way onto them. The sleeve was like a condom in that it had an elastic band at the base (which fit -really- tightly around the base of my penus and seemed to keep the creams from leaking), but elsewhere it would have been way too loose.
"Isn't it too tight?" I asked, worried about how uncomfortable the sheath felt on the base of my male organ.
"No. It won't be a problem. Just quit whining and take it like a man," the doctor said, dryly.
Instead of being a regular condom, the sheath seemed instead to be designed as a pouch to hold a thick mixture of the two creams on the penus. As soon as they came into contact with each other, the creams started to smell terrible, very musky, and they seemed to get warm immediately. They had a gooey, heavy texture, which made me feel even more yucky. Doctor Mark said I had to leave the plastic condom on for an hour and a half, and I should put on the plastic underwear "just in case," to keep the creams from leaking onto my sweats while I was waiting. Though I still thought this was strange, I did as I was told, and returned to the waiting room, where there were a number of magazines I could read to pass the time.
Jim had already been in the waiting room since before I'd arrived for my exam, and I now realized that he must have been there because he was going through some similar treatment. I was a little embarrassed to sit down next to him, because the cream was very strong-smelling. I wondered what he was thinking. Then I caught a whiff of what I guessed was his own treatment cream. Again something was a little strange -- his cream definitely smelled different. Whatever cream he was being treated with smelled sharp and chemicalish, rather than musky.
After I had been sitting there for a few minutes, the area the doctor had put cream started to tingle and feel very hot. The sensation was similar to how your arm would feel if you were laying on it, kind of like it was "falling asleep." It was getting harder and harder for me to ignore, and the next thing I knew I had a full erection, which made the plastic sheath so tight it hurt. As I discretely laid my hand across my lap to try and hide it, I glanced over and it looked like Jim must have been having the same sensation and problem. About an hour afterward he was called back into the exam room, still embarassingly holding a hand in front of his crotch. Five minutes later he left to go back to the room. Luckily my hard-on didn't last that long, so I didn't have to worry about being embarrassed. After only another half an hour or so it gradually faded, though the whole area was still burning and tingling madly.
Just as the heat and tingling on my genitals and the strong smell were starting to get unbearable, Doctor Mark called me back in the office. As I lowered my sweats I saw that the two layers of creams had apparently mixed while I'd been sitting there. Instead of two layers -- the thick, bright pink stuff on my penus and the sticky clear gel on top of that -- the cream was now uniformly a pearly pink color, and much more liquidy. Doctor Mark had me remove the plastic sheath and carefully wiped the cream off me. Then he very -very- carefully removed his gloves. I asked him why he was being so cautious not to touch the cream, but he didn't answer me -- all he did was chuckle. He just said that after the exam was over I could go back to my room, shower and clean up, and then proceed to breakfast.
The rest of that exam only lasted 15 minutes. Dr. Mark said my nausea and other symptoms were "typical," and that I shouldn't worry, I wasn't getting sick or anything. Nurse Leigh came back in the room, produced another pink bottle and gave me an injection, though thankfully this one was much smaller than the first one. Dr. Mark handed me a bottle full of large, round light-pink pills.
"These vitamins will balance your system, help get rid of the nausea, and keep you healthy," he said. "This is very important. Make sure you take them every day -- one before breakfast, one before lunch, and one immediately after dinner, otherwise you could start feeling sick again."
I immediately took one of the vitamins, which smelled faintly chemicalish, and rushed to the room for a quick shower. I normally enjoyed showering, but in this case the experience was less than pleasurable because I had to hurry to make it to the cafeteria on time. I noticed my penus was dark purplish red (especially at the head) and almost completely numb from the cream, and a little black and blue from the tight elastic, but I didn't really have much time to think about it. A few minutes later I was in the cafeteria munching on breakfast.
My first day of classes went well enough. Despite our age difference, Jim was in two of them with me, and what ones he wasn't Pat was in. I noted two of my classes consisted entirely of Pinkbands, which was another strange thing about this school. But the teachers seemed nice, and the work was just about what we were doing when I left our old school in June.
All things considered, Jim and I were settled in well over the rest of that week. I still felt pretty depressed for a while but I figured the new surroundings must have been part of that. The vitamins must have really helped my stomach, because after a few days it was almost normal again, though I was also feeling somewhat more emotional than usual. (I actually broke down crying quite a few times that week, for no apparent reason). I also felt a little strange physically, in a way that was really difficult to describe. I guess the closest thing would be to say my body felt really calm, in a dull sort of way. But at the same time, it was nice to feel so relaxed and laid back, and I soon found myself sleeping very soundly the whole night through. Jim and I gradually found we had a lot in common with Chris and Pat. Jim and Chris started to spend a lot more time together down at the gym, leaving me and Pat time to also become better friends.
Our daily medical exams consisted a few basic checks, but most of them usually took less than 15 minutes. I learned that Jim's procedure, like Chris's, was a bit different than mine and Pat's. Bluebands didn't get as many shots as we did -- the doctor said the vitamins they were taking were different than ours, and their needs were different. So Pat and I, like all Pinkbands, would have to endure the needle once every two or three days. It actually wasn't as bad as it sounds. Aside from a headache and ocassional nausea that seemed to happen around the day of a shot, we were getting used to the routine.
That weekend we recieved our more thorough, weekly exam, which was similar to the first one except that, thankfully, the giant needle was left out in favor of what was becoming one of the usual, smaller ones. The doctor also took some more pictures.
During the measurements, I got a little nervous when it took a while longer than in the last exam for me to get an erection. I also wasn't as hard as usual, but Dr. Mark said not to worry. "Same flaccid, 4 inches partial," he told nurse Leigh. I was then given my shot and was sent outside to the athletic grounds, where Jim and many of the others were already enjoying the fresh air.
Weekend afternoon activities were nice. We were encouraged to participate in a variety of outdoor activities. There was a decent swimming pool (though I didn't swim), as well as fields for soccer and other sports. Jim and I used to play soccer often at our old school, so the following weekend he talked me into playing with him and a few of the other guys. Pat, who was also in the group outside, said he wasn't really in the mood for such a high energy game, so he went over to play volleyball with a few other people. I actually understood what he meant -- soccer with these guys looked like it could indeed get rough, and volleyball was a bit less crazy -- but Jim really wanted me to play. (Strangely, most of the Bluebands seemed to be playing soccer, while the volleyball players looked like they were almost all Pinkbands).
The soccer game lasted for quite a while that day. The team Jim and I played on won, though I probably didn't have that much of a part in the victory. A lot of the Bluebands kept getting very aggressive with the ball. I was afraid I would get hurt, so I kind of kept my distance from most of the action. I didn't know why I hadn't felt this way before, but soccer suddenly seemed so crazy, fierce and competitive. I decided next time to play volleyball with Pat and them, where the game seemed friendlier and more relaxed, and I could feel more like part of the team.
That Sunday night Jim and Chris decided to grab some extra time at the gym again, so Pat came in the room to hang out with me. We were having a very pleasant and fairly regular conversation for two thirteen or fourteen year olds, until he suddenly hesitated, as if debating whether or not to ask me something. "Matt?" he asked. "Yea," I said, "What is it?"
"Well, this is kind of weird. I was just wondering if you've been noticing something. Have you, ah, been having trouble lately, you know, getting hard?" He rubbed his chest and hesitated for a second, and then suddenly pulled down the front of his shorts to show me his genitals. He startled me so much that for the longest time I was too surprised to say a word. I suddenly realized that I hadn't even though about jerking off since the week before. I didn't know what to say. It didn't help matters that he felt the need to show me. His male organ was a bit smaller than mine, but then he was a few months younger than I was, and was also a little shorter heightwise. I paused for a few moments, then slowly looked back up at him. He had tears in his eyes, though he didn't seem to be sad, just curious.
"Well, I really haven't, um, thought much about playing with it lately," I slowly admitted, realizing that in about two weeks I had completely forgotten about what used to be a favorite passtime. How could I not have been horny during all that time? I had noticed my penus seemed a bit more sensitive than usual, but other than that I (very strangely) couldn't recall paying much attention to it at all.
I looked back up at Pat in embarrassment. "I don't know why, but I ... I really haven't thought about it," I said. "But I did have a little trouble doing it yesterday for Dr. Mark." I felt awkward, like I should show him my own member since he was brave enough to show me his, so I briefly lowered by shorts, as he had done.
"I haven't been thinking of it much either," he confessed. "Until yesterday. I was with Dr. Mark, too, he was waiting to measure me and... Its just... Well, nothing happened. ... It wouldn't get up. I couldn't do it." He paused and again started gently rubbing the left side of his chest.
By now I was feeling really uncomfortable, so I just decided to change the subject, and we quickly returned to discussing a homework assignment that was due the next day. I just couldn't think about such an unpleasant topic.
I was forced to do just that by the time my weekend exam came around the next weekend. During the week, I had been given another treatment with those smelly creams, which again left my penus purple and numb for a day or so, but again I hadn't really had time to pay much attention to what was going on. At least until my exam that weekend, when it became time for measurements. When the appropriate time came, I tried and tried and tried. But even though it somehow seemed more sensitive than usual, I couldn't coax my poor penus into getting anything, not even a small semi. I could feel myself blushing as the doctor waited. After five minutes he became obviously impatient. "Is it happening or not?" he asked, abruptly. Eventually he simply gestured that I could stop trying.
"That's okay -- forget about it," said Dr. Mark. "Flaccid size, no change -- still three inches," he relayed to Nurse Leigh. He immediately began writing something on my chart. I caught a glimpse of it when he turned for a second to whisper something to the nurse. There, next to the date, he had scribbled the short phrase, "Subject has reached complete impotence." Seeing that word hit me like a truck. I put my head down and quietly made my way back to the dorm room. I had no idea what was going on. Other than what Pat had said, I knew only that Jim could not have been having the same problem. Lately I had been hearing him -- and it seemed he must have been energetically masturbating several times a night. When I went to bed later that night, in a vain effort to prove the doctor wrong, I tried to stimulate myself to erection. Once again, it didn't work at all. I was trying and trying but only got my genitals sore. After quite a while, I was still able to satisfy myself, but my penus stayed soft as a marshmallow the whole time, and when I felt the unusually gradual release, only a drop or two of clear fluid oozed out. I felt unbelievably embarrassed for myself and quietly fell asleep crying. Doctor Mark never asked for an erection measurement again.
Time seemed to run quickly under our busy schedules, and before I knew it, Jim and I had already been at the New Outlooks school for over six weeks. We had both been getting reasonably decent grades, so we were put on the Extended Priviledges list and were now given an extra hour of free time each night. Jim, not surprisingly, put most of his to use for sports and other gym activities. He had even started getting up early just so he could go for an extra workout. I didn't know where he was getting all this energy from. But all the extra physical activity was starting to show. We both had been in the habit of sleeping shirtless for the past few years, and we'd kept that habit here at the school. Lately I noticed his muscles were starting to fill out and develop. He seemed stronger. I was fascinated by the way his biceps and pecs were beginning to bulge even when he wasn't flexing them. I was also amazed at how fast his chest hair was growing in -- he had a nice little crop of it right in the center of his sternum that seemed more noticeable than it used to be.
I, on the other hand, was definitely not growing muscle. Lately it seemed as if the heavy metal doors around the school were getting even heavier. I felt more or less okay, but was physically weaker and seemed to need more sleep than I used to. Despite my own Pinkband physical ed classes and activities (which admittedly didn't involve any weight lifting), I was actually losing muscle mass and tone. I couldn't believe how quickly I'd lost the muscle!
Partly to blame for this must have been the Pinkband diet, which seemed very low in protein. And then there was a week-long seminar that Pinkbands were required to take beginning after our second week, which had altered our schedule. For seven straight days we had hardly any physical activity--we'd simply sat the whole day in an auditorium. It was kind of strange in that none of us seemed to remember what the seminar was about (we all seemed to have dozed off each day right after it started). But ever since then I had been feeling pretty weak and cautious because of it.
And that weak feeling showed in our appearances. By now I looked quite a bit less built -- actually I couldn't believe how much muscle I'd lost. My body was starting to look really wimpy. Whenever I flexed my biceps, instead of the tight round knob I'd just been starting to show, the muscle that showed now was only a slight, barely noticeable arch. My chest had no noticeable muscle tone at all anymore. While I hadn't yet developed a real six pack on my stomach, I used to at least be able to feel the muscles that were there. Now, my stomach was completely smooth and soft. And so was nearly all of my skin. Both the thin trail of hair to my belly button and the peach fuzz I used to have on my chest had faded. The only place my body hair still seemed to be growing in was under my arms and in my pubic area (where it was getting thicker, but had started growing in a triangular shape; it didn't trail upward at all any more). The worst part about losing so much muscle was that it was so impossible to hide, because of snug-fitting Pinkband clothing. All of the Pinkbands had been looking wimpy--almost frail lately. The only positive thing I could say was that the slight acne I had when I arrived had completely cleared up.
My classes had been going well, and most of my grades were A's and B's, with one very noticeable exception. For the past few weeks I had been having a trouble keeping up in math -- I'd gotten a C- on my last exam! Back at our old school, it had been my best (and favorite) subject, and I had for a long time been hoping to become an accountant. But lately, even though my math work wasn't much more involved than what I'd done before, it was suddenly seeming really hard. It was exhausting, too, and had gotten to feel so unpleasant that I was starting to hate going to class.
One time when I was back in Phys Ed, doing sit-ups with the other Pinkbands, I realized that I seemed to smell different than I used to. I craned my neck over so I could smell under my arm better and was a bit stunned. Instead of the almost metallic body scent I used to have, I now smelled muskier. It wasn't an unpleasant odor; it just was different from the way I used to smell. There were other changes I was noticing, too. Even though I hadn't been eating as much as I used to, and despite having lost muscle, I was starting to gain weight and had quickly put on two pounds. (Although I was grateful--one Pinkband had gained almost 20 pounds!). My skin had gradually gotten a little lighter in color, especially on my penus. Instead of being olive tan, its head was now a pale pinkish-purple, and easily irritated (somehow that original, soft underwear now felt uncomfortably rough), and both my penus and my testicles now felt really soft when I squeezed them. I don't think I felt horny or had any erections the whole time, although for some reason I still wasn't thinking about this that much. The strangest thing of all -- and one that I was paying a lot of attention to -- was that my nipples had been feeling overly sensitive and very tingly. It was so bad that they now looked bright pink and swollen from me rubbing them all the time. They'd had little lumps under them for a while, and now the tips were actually sticking out a little bit. I think other Pinkbands were having this problem too. For four or five of the (mostly) younger guys it was so bad your could see little bulges in their shirts.
In my weekly exam Nurse Leigh gave me special underwear that she said would help keep my privates from getting irritated. They were basically light pink bikini underwear, very high on the sides and similar to what I'd already been given. But these new ones were made of a more delicate, much softer satin material. They were also different in that they had a thin, lacy elastic band at the top and around the legs. While my old underwear had a kind of unisex quality about it, these new panties were definitely designed for girls. But I didn't want to feel my privates irritated, and no one would really see them, so I went in the side room and immediately put them on without a fuss. When Dr. Mark continued his exam I learned that my testicles had decreased in weight by 35% and in size by almost 20%. I wasn't sure what this meant, though I had noticed they hadn't been bouncing as much when I did my running in Phys Ed. Then the doctor gave me a special cream to rub onto my sore nipples. He said if I rubbed it on them four times a day it would help (although they seemed just as tingly and sore, and if anything they were starting to bulge out a little more).
Another strange thing I started to notice was how fast hair was growing on the heads of Pinkbands like Pat and me. Since we were only given haircuts every five weeks (and the barber for some reason had been cutting less of our hair off), our hair was gradually getting longer than that of the Bluebands.
As we got ready for bed that night Jim and I were talking about our time at New Outlooks. I really wanted to know if he'd noticed symtoms like mine, so I led the conversation toward the changes we'd noticed in ourselves since we'd arrived. While we were talking I noticed his voice, which had changed the summer before, had over this time been continuing to deepen in pitch. I had been expecting mine to start changing too, or at least cracking, but it just wasn't. You couldn't really see my adam's apple, either. My voice was still high and clear, and the extra contrast between our voices suddenly made me feel awkward. Here was a boy who was obviously well on his way to becoming a man, and then there was me, looking and feeling like a complete wimp.
Jim said other than sometimes feeling tense and a bit frustrated, he'd never felt better. He laughed at me when I mentioned my itchy nipples. He said his had definitely never been itchy, and, though I was sure to reveal nothing about myself in this regard, he bragged about feeling ... well, especially potent lately.
After bragging some more, he changed the subject. "I'm going to change the room around,'' he said. "I want your bed over on the other wall so I have more room to do pushups in the corner!"
I absolutely hated this idea -- I really wanted to keep the room the way it was, but I let him move everything. I don't know why I didn't protest. Maybe I just didn't feel like challenging him, but I didn't say anything. After a few seconds I looked up and realized he'd been staring at my chest for a few seconds. I quivered and quickly looked away in embarrassment (and a little fear) when I noticed the bulge rising in his shorts.
About three weeks later, Jim, Chris, and the other Bluebands who'd come to the school in our group were on a weekend field trip, leaving us Pinkbands the only ones left in the dorm area. Pat came in my room that morning and seemed to have something serious on his mind. His hair was tossled, and he seemed a bit nervous. We began chatting, and eventually he brought up what was bothering him. "I was talking with one of the guys down the hall," he said, pausing to push back the hair that was hanging in his eyes. "They say the injections they've been giving Pinkbands...well..."
"What?" I asked, now even more curious. "Well, I heard what they're giving us is female hormones." "Look," he said, simultaneously lifting his shirt up and pulling down the front of his shorts. My mouth dropped open as I saw his penus. It definitely looked a little smaller. If he didn't have pubic hair, I might have thought his private area belonged to a three or four year old boy. Now that I thought about it, I realized what used to be a bulge in his shorts (not that it was ever that noticeable) hadn't really been visible at all lately. Perhaps out of fear, I didn't even glance down toward my own shorts to look at mine.
However, I was truly frozen as I looked up at his chest. I knew that lately you could see little bulges in almost every Pinkband's shirt, but until now I hadn't actually seen any of the others' chests. Now that I saw Pat's, it definitely looked a little fleshier. But it was his nipples that caught my attention. They must have been over two inches across, pointing out at least half an inch, and were bright pink in color. They were so conspicuous now that they seemed the focal point of his chest. I shuddered in fear. Even if my areoles weren't quite that bad, I knew they were becoming more and more prominent, too.
That afternoon during my exam I decided to find out what was really going on. Out of the blue, I turned to Dr. Mark while he was examining me. "What are the injections we've been getting?" I asked. He hesitated, as if he was surprised that I hadn't figured it out already, then offered a surprisingly direct response. "Well, we've been giving Pinkbands like yourself a series of rather powerful female hormones and male hormone blockers. The bands on your wrists and ankles -- blue is for boys and pink is for -girls-. Haven't you noticed that your body has been growing less and less masculine over the past few months?" He turned to Nurse Leigh, "Penus is not even two and a third inches; testicles now 40% the original weight and 55% the original size--basically half the mass."
I tensed up. "Then what are the Bluebands getting?" I choked, even though I had already figured out the answer. "They are being given special hormones called gonadotrophins, which are making their testes extra active. That is why unlike you and the other Pinkbands, they are getting more and more like real men." "And what about me?" I pleaded. "You are developing differently," he said. "Your body is already starting to show some early female characteristics, such as early-stage breast development. These will continue to become more pronounced. You're not developing into a man. Pinkbands like you are never going to become men."
His cruel words were too much for me. As soon as the exam was over I rushed back to my room. I quickly removed my clothes, and sat down on my bed looking at my shrinking genitals. My pale penus was definitely a little smaller. It looked weak -- pathetic, Like Pat's, as if it belonged to a four year old. The tips of my bright pink nipples were swelling and definitely pointing outward (already the size of the tip of my pinky), and it seemed like ever since I'd started rubbing that cream on them the areoles had been growing even larger and more noticeable. Even the curves around my hips were starting to fill out and look softer, rounder. There was almost no muscle definition anywhere on my body. Tears were starting to run down my face and I started shaking. I ran into the bathroom in front of the mirror and turned around to look at my back, hoping to see some sign of muscle or maleness. As my eyes moved down toward my butt, I shuddered. While my shape was not yet really feminine, it was definitely much less masculine. My buttocks looked bigger and fleshier. It looked like a smooth curve was forming where they met my upper thighs, which also looked fuller. I panicked.
Frantically, I grabbed the bottle of pink "vitamins" I'd been given and flushed them down the toilet. I ran to my desk, grabbed a scissor and hacked off the pink bands on my wrists and ankles. I heaved open Jim's dresser drawer and pulled out Blueband-style clothes: an athletic shirt, and a pair of sweat pants. I couldn't find boxers or a jock strap in the drawer, and panicked even more. Jim must not have done his laundry in weeks!. I quickly reached into his hamper and pulled out the jock and boxers he'd worn the day before. At first I hesitated, because the jock had a massive stain in front and was still damp, as if Jim'd had a hell of a wet dream before taking it off. But I knew a real man wears a jock when he works out, and I desperately needed one, so I quickly slipped it on. It fit very loosely, almost as if it had been stretched in the front (or had my penus and scrotum shrunk that much?). Also, Jim was a bit taller than me so the clothes also looked quite a bit loose, but I was determined to try to build back what I had lost. I raced to the gym and immediately walked over to the serious weight machines, hoping that if I pumped some iron I could maybe fight off what was happening to me. I couldn't believe how heavy the 20-pound weights on the bicep machine seemed, but I struggled with them fiercely.
I wasn't there for five minutes when two of the older Bluebands who were working at one of the front desks came over. I started to tremble. They must have been about 18. They had very broad shoulders and narrow hips, and from the tense musculature of their upper bodies I knew they meant business. "Where is your arm band?" barked one, in a very accusational tone, "I don't see it."
Before I could answer they had both grabbed me. I struggled and screamed, but they were so built and I was so weak that the best I could muster barely even phased the arm-lock one of them was holding me in. Within seconds they had called Dr. Mark and had dragged me down to the medical office.
"I should have guessed this was going to happen," said the doctor. "Well, you'll learn to obey the rules, one way or another."
Seconds later Nurse Leigh entered the room with a needle every bit as big as that first one I'd recieved. "You have no choice," she said. ''Over the past few months our anti-androgens have almost completely neutralized and eliminated the production and action of male hormones in your body. Your testicles are completelt inactive and shrinking. Your testosterone levels as of this week's test are even lower than the trace levels a normal woman would have, but apparently complete chemical castration is not enough to tame you!"
As she walked toward me, she started drawing fluid from a large pink bottle into the syringe. I tried again to struggle, but the two Bluebands were still holding me down. Both of them had obvious erections. One of them grabbed my sweats and panties and yanked both downward at once. As they loosely dropped to my ankles I could feel the cool air against my butt and legs. I instantly had goosebumps.
"Normally, for a minor punshment, we'd give someone your size 125 cc's of this special cocktail of time-release hormones," the nurse threatened, as I stood facing the wall with the lower half of my body completely exposed. "But for a major violation like what you did, we are now going to give you 900. This extra potent fluid will intoxicate your blood with the equivalent of more than ten times the normal level of estrogens in a girl your age. I suspect the sensation of all this suddenly burning through your system will be quite unpleasant. We'll teach you to stay in your place!" The sharp pierce of the needle alone almost made me pass out.
And then she picked up another bottle, and another needle.
"Now -this- will be your 'motivator,'" she sneered. "And, wonderfully, many of its effects are permanent! It is a special chemical that encourages functions of the central nervous system. More specifically, it affects the sexual differentiation of the brain -- the development of a normal 'male brain' or 'female brain' that happens before birth and during puberty. The process is, of course, heavily influenced by a person's gender, which, from the brain's perspective, is almost entirely determined by their sex hormones. Can you just imagine what this will do to your brain with such an unusually -massive- dose of female hormones circulating in your body?! This will definitely take care of the lingering remnants of that macho spirit!"
I screamed and started struggling again. Again, to no avail, the needle was plunged into my other buttock.
"Now we are going to give you a new bottle of supplements-vitamins. Keep in mind that with these hormones in your body you will feel even sicker than your first day here if you don't take these regularly." I was trembling all over and felt so weak I could barely walk as the two Bluebands escorted me back to my room. They forcefully removed the clothing I'd taken from Jim and put me back in my own soft panties. They were both starting at my enlarged, brightly colored nipples, and I still felt completely naked. One of them walked up in front of me, and, after a brief hesitation, kneed me hard in the groin. As I keeled forward to grab myself he siezed my head with both hands, brought his lips within two inches of mine and whispered, "I bet you wish you didn't have those little peanuts -now-, huh?" As he stepped back the other Blueband came back over to me. He was stood right in front of me, close enough to jab the tip of his strong erection right between my balls. I was trembling and quivering as he reached around my waist and ran his big, rough hand underneath my soft underwear and between my buttocks. "Don't fight it," he said. "One day you'll really appreciate the changes you are going through. Why -- "
"Come on, Shane, we have to get back to the gym," interrupted the other Blueband, "You want the Doc to get pissed?" As the two of them left I flung the new pill bottle across the room and curled up crying, keeping one hand on my crotch, which, strangely, wasn't throbbing for quite as long as I thought it would.
The rest of that night was horrible. The shots I'd been given had me feeling so sick and dizzy that I skipped dinner. I must have dry heaved more than ten times. I felt horribly feverish. Pat had come knocking on the door but I pretended not to be in. I was so nausious and depressed I didn't want to see anybody. Eventually I felt so tired and so queasy that I just couldn't take it anymore, and I swallowed one of the new pills.
I woke up the next morning to discover Jim was back. He looked like he was getting ready to go to the gym, but he paused when he realized I was awake. "They told me what happened," he said. "Is it really that fucking bad?!! I mean, why can't you just do what they want?" I couldn't believe he was saying this -- and then I again I saw he was looking at my chest. A huge bulge was starting to rise between his legs. Without saying a word I rolled over and started crying. Jim said he was sorry and left for his workout. I wore a shirt to bed from that night on.
I was still very dizzy and nauseous over the next week, but the feelings eventually subsided, as did some of my urge to resist. It really was no use trying. What was the point? I mean, I couldn't run away, and if I tried anything atypical there were always older Bluebands around who noticed, and I knew I'd be brought in for another punishment. By now my body had already been forced down the road to substantial feminization, enough so I knew even if the treatments were stopped I would never mature into a real stud like Jim, or even a normal man like my brother. I mean, I had already lost what were maybe the most important first few months of male puberty. My nipples were already big enough to show as a bulge through every shirt I had. My testicles were half their original size--hardly capable of making me anything of a man even if I could get away or get them to stop injecting me with estrogens. My body had become accostomed to the female hormones in my bloodstream, and I learned if I missed a single dose of the pink "vitamins" I would quickly begin to feel sick and horribly depressed again.
It was a short time after this that the Pinkbands were told that New Outlooks, in addition to being a school, was also a medical research facility for human sexuality and development. Pat and I were also shocked to discover that apparently some of the entrance forms our parents had signed for us were actually release forms, authorizing the school to put us in this program, and stating that we'd expressed a solid interest in it. No wonder they had been so shocked and reluctant when they learned I wanted to come here!
While I absolutely hated the medical side of life at New Outlooks, I found that at least some of the work wasn't too bad, math again excepted. (Me and several other Pinkbands, including Pat, had been dropped down to a much less involved math class, eliminating my hopes of being an accountant). But now that our other classes had been underway for almost four months, we were getting into some more enjoyable lessons those courses. As part of one of our classes, we all went outside into the many acres of woods surrounding the school to study the ecosystem. We were split up into pairs (our roommates, actually) for little expeditions in different parts of the area. Things were going really well for the first few hours, until I decided to answer a call of nature behind one of the bushes. As Jim waiting for me nearby, I stepped closer to the shrubs to minimize the chance of him seeing any of me. I lifted the front of my sweat pants and began to pee. A second later I felt the warmth and realized something was wrong. When Jim and I had gone camping I'd gotten used to simply opening my pants and relieving myself, but I hadn't realized how the changes in my body would have affected something like this. My penus, which had gradually been shrinking since I'd began the program, now no longer hung outward enough for me to urinate without carefully aiming it. I couldn't believe I had wet my sweats like this, and I quickly tried to think of how I could try to hide it from Jim. But it was too late. "Aw, what did you piss yourself?!" he laughed. "Maybe you'd better squat down from now on!" Mortified, I ran trembling and crying all the way back to the room to change. I didn't tell anyone, but I did start sitting down (or squatting) to pee.
Time continued to pass, and soon Jim and I had already been at the school for six months. Jim and Chris now both had the bodies of almost fully mature-looking young men. They had both grown more than two inches (Jim was now 6'2") and were still growing, and their builds were quickly catching up to the older Bluebands who had been at the school for years. (Jim now weighed 194 pounds). They definitely seemed to have gotten more aggressive, more decisive, and most were now playing very rough games of football or rugby, rather than soccer, on weekends. I noticed Jim's chest was now nicely defined, calling attention to his shoulders, which looked even broader and very powerful. He had a very adult-looking and perfectly symetrical formation of neat, straight hair on his chest, and his facial hair had almost completely grown in. He was now shaving daily. Pat said Chris was changing similarly, though perhaps because of his blond complexion, Chris's chest wasn't really getting hairy.
My own body, meanwhile, had continued to soften. I felt more cautious, a lot less sure of myself. I was so afraid of getting hurt that I rarely played any sports anymore (although they all seemed boring these days). I had gained 3 more pounds -- almost all of it on my hips, thighs, and butt. (I had been focusing on excercises to tone my backside, but it looked like they were making things even worse, so I started to put myself on a diet). My face was starting to get rounder, making me look like either an extremely feminine boy or a tomboyish girl. (Lately, I was looking less and less like the former and a lot more like the latter). Like many of the other Pinkbands, my hair was quite a bit longer, and I was now forced to wear it pulled back in a pony tail. I couldn't even pretend my chest was flat anymore. I now had two well-rounded mounds curving outward, which called attention to my areoles, which had grown to more than two inches across and centered around increasingly developed nipples. (The nipples themselves jutted outward over half an inch, making the new curves end in two distinct points). Meanwhile the slight bulge that used to be visible in the crotch of my shorts or sweats had gradually shrunk to being unnoticeable, as it also had on virtually all Pinkbands.
Me and Pat noticed the clothing given to us seemed designed to call attention to the changes in our bodies -- and in some ways he seemed to be changing a bit faster than I was. Over these months we watched as those little crotch bulges grew less prominent as the size of our genitals diminished. The very short sleeves on our shirts called attention to our weaker, much less defined biceps and shoulders. Much to our dismay, the budding developments, like those of the other Pinkbands, were impossible to hide under our shirts--you could actually see the outlines on most of our chests. The developments even moved slightly when we walked or jumped. The high-cut legs of our shorts and underwear also made our thighs and hips look even smoother and curvier.
As we sat next to each other one day studying, close enough for our thighs to touch, I noticed how smooth and soft Pat's legs were. I knew he was looking at mine, too. The fine blonde hairs on his legs were so soft I could hardly see or feel them, and I realized even though my leg hair wasn't as fair or as fine, my legs felt almost as soft as his. The shape of our legs was now different, too. Instead of being about the same width the whole way up, as they used to be, our thighs now seemed wider and a lot fuller and fleshier at the top. It was really strange to be that close physically and not have the slightest feeling of horniness or an erection. It was even stranger that I couldn't remember what having an erection felt like. I don't know why, but despite the strangeness it didn't bother me at all.
For Bluebands clothing and appearance was a corresponding story -- their tank tops framed their broadening shoulders and growing musculature. Many of them were developing hairier bodies, and most now had to shave at least once a day. The slight bulges that had originally been visible through shorts and sweats now were calling attention to the Bluebands' larger, more mature equipment. Most of us Pinkbands were now constantly aware (and a bit fearful) of when a Blueband was in the room with us -- more and more often, we found them catching glimpses of us when we didn't expect it.
Bluebands has also started picking on us for stuff that seemed silly, like the way we walked holding our elbows close to our bodies and our arms out. At first I hadn't noticed it, but then I realized I had picked up the same mannerisms. The added weight of the developments up front now forced me, Pat, and several of the other Pinkbands to sometimes wear chest supporters.
As I sat in the examining room one day, Dr. Mark informed me that the changes and feminine development of my body were becoming permanent. My testicles had continued to shrink. They were now less than a third of their original size, and felt like two soft little peanuts. He said I had probably become permanent sterile as much as two months earlier. Without the weight or size of larger balls, my scrotum had also shrunk, and now held them up closer to my body. My penus, which the doctor said would never be capable of erection again, had drooped and shrunk to the point where it could no longer even reach the two inch mark on the ruler. It was now mostly hidden in my thick, female-pattern pubic hair; just its pale, weak little pink head showed. The doctor said it probably wouldn't shrink much more, but then, it already was barely visible unless I dug for it, so this news didn't really matter that much.
My overall height hadn't changed much, but because I had lost so much muscle, my shoulders looked smaller. My hips had already grown wider by two and a half inches, but they appeared to have changed much more than that because of the way my body was redistributing fat, making my contours look even more rounded. My legs actually seemed a bit farther apart, and the extra space between them made my diminutive genitals look even more pathetic (They looked as useless as they felt -- and were -- these days). My butt and thighs were much fleshier and blended into each other in soft curves, almost a teardrop shape. Actually I was starting to feel like I was all hips and butt -- and I knew people were noticing. Because of all this, it was getting harder and harder for me to walk without moving my hips a little, a problem I noticed many of the other Pinkbands were having. I still didn't want to admit it, but I didn't -feel- like a boy anymore. I really was starting to feel like a girl.
Now that we were so far along in our "treatments," Dr. Mark and Nurse Leigh revealed more about what they were doing to us. I vividly recall the doctor's explanation of why Pat was growing feminine a bit more quickly than I was. "It was the age difference," he said. "The treatment is more effective the less your body has differentiated into male form. You both started puberty as boys, but neither of you had been into it for even a year. Your friend Pat, being several months younger, wasn't as far along as you were, so his new hormones had little to overcome before they could start doing their real work. Your body had been in male puberty a bit longer, but certainly not long enough for the early effects to be pronounced or permanent, or to keep us from fully reversing those few male characteristics with our treatments. In any case, because you were started on these hormones so close to the onset of puberty, it won't be long before your bodies are completely indistinguishable from those of real females. Look -- already your bones are maturing as markedly and unmistakably female. You've hardly grown half an inch in height, and I seriously doubt you'll get any taller. The estrogens have probably completely stunted any significant further growth. Your shoulders have remained small and narrow. Your arms and hands are also small and delicate, as are your facial features. And look at how wide your hips have grown already."
"That first shot you recieved was a special mixture of chemicals," he continued. "In addition to several powerful new estrogens we've developed, it also contained a new time-release anti-testosterone. The combination of hormones immediately stalled and shut down your testicles. The male hormones that were already in your blood were blocked -- why, a few days after that injection your production of male hormones and sperm was practically null. Perfect chemical castration in the first month!"
Nurse Leigh picked up the explanation, telling me about the hormone cream treatments that had been done to my penus. They were part of a fairly new procedure the facility/school had developed. Originally, the "school" found that even though the Pinkband hormones injections and pills were very effective in feminizing the body. But one the penus develops sufficiently, it doesn't need much testosterone to keep its ability to have erections. While spontaneous erections in Pinkbands usually stopped within two months, direct stimulation of the genitals could sometimes still bring on an erection even after more than six months. And as long as the genitals were capable of erection they didn't shrink much. "We wouldn't be able to consider you girls if you were like that, now would we?" the nurse said.
So the facility decided to work on a hormone cream treatment that could hasten the weaking and atrophy of the penus. Normally, she said, if a hormone cream were applied to any specific area the chemicals would simply be absorbed though the skin and dispersed throughout the body -- minimizing any local-acting effects. But the treatments Pinkbands had been given were different. The tight plastic sleeve that was placed over my genitals was specially designed to hold a thick, even coating of the creams around the penus. The elastic at the base slowed and restricted the supply of blood into and out of the organ. When the two creams were mixed, they chemically reacted to each other, forming an unstable mixture of synthetic estrogen-like chemicals. The chemicals were so strong that they had an almost corrosive effect on male organs, but because they were unstable they acted only on localized areas before breaking down. Because of this, there were few undesired side effects.
"Basically the creams caused powerful estrogens to penetrate and be absorbed specifically into your penus, quickly resulting in complete impotence and forcing the organ to revert to undiferentiated epithelial tissue. Under the influence of your new, extremely female body chemistry, it began to atrophy, just like your testicles. I find the irony quite amusing: the tingling sensation of the creams causes most males to have an erection. As soon as the erection starts, the penus becomes thicker, which makes the elastic even tighter and more restrictive, making the erection even harder and more promounced. With the reduced bloodflow and the penus in such a "hypererect" state, the cells responsible for creating erections are simultaneously filled to capacity and starved for oxygen, ultimately making them much weaker. Meanwhile, the erection increases the surface area of the penus and actually raises the temperature of the organ quite a bit for a few minutes, which makes the initial absorption of hormones even more effective, bringing on erectile disfunction even more quickly! In a young boy like you were, complete impotence usually occurs after just two of the weekly treatments. But those creams are so powerful they can deactivate the penus of even the most potent stallion of a stud in four or five! And in almost all cases the effects are completely permanent. Why, we first tested that treatment on a big, hairy-chested buff third-year Blueband with a powerful six-inch-flaccid, nine-inch-hard trophy. After cooking his schlong with five of those treatments, he hasn't been capable of a single erection in more than a year now! His penus -- even without additional female hormones -- shrunk three inches in the first six months. It feels like a marshmallow! We had to castrate him to reduce his sex drive, he was getting so frustrated!"
In addition to the cream treatment, she said, the Pinkband hormone injections had been taking effect. The pink "vitamins" contained large doses of anti-testosterones, a variety of estrogens and estrogen-like chemicals, progesterones, and a small amount of a drug to make us dependent on taking them. With all this in our systems, she said, "Two things began to happen. Without all those male hormones directing your body, your male sex drive faded and your genitals continued to 'forget' all about their male functions. Then your new female hormones began acting directly on them and sped up the process, convincing your body that you are and should be developing as a girl."
"The very slight male secondary sex characteristics that you were starting to show faded, and you began to develop female characteristics, such as breasts and those nice wide hips and thighs. You developed a female pattern of fat distribution -- just look at your hips and behind! Almost all of these changes are now permanent, including the shrinkage and degeneration of your testicles. And as you must know the hormones have almost completely feminized your brain. This is affecting everything from your newfound difficulty with typically male skills like math to your emotional development. Actually you probably haven't even started to realize how female your mind already is! That punishment you recieved a while back certainly helped speed things along, but I'm sure you know the changes were occurring anyway. They started as soon as you recieved that first shot. Soon even the minor chemical and thought processes in your brain will have completely and permanently settled into a female pattern."
The Bluebands' program worked differently, the doctor and nurse said. Their first injection had been a chemical to kick their testes into overdrive, gradually increasing both their male hormone levels and sperm counts. The Doctor said that since most "normal" males' genitals are already almost fully grown by the time they are fifteen, the Blueband cream treatments were a mixture of growth hormones and testosterones, designed to enhance potency and encourage continued growth. The Bluebands' plastic sleeves had a slightly looser elastic so as not to weaken the penus during thr "enhancement." The goal here wasn't necessarily absolute size; rather it was sensitivity -- and especially, strength of the organ. As long as the Blueband was generously-sized (ideal, they said, was a reasonably thick eight or nine inches), the treatment was considered sucessful.
Then, a series of other shots had been programming their bodies to demand the new, higher hormone levels all the time, so that when the injections are eventually stopped their systems will continue to function in the enhanced male mode. The Blueband "vitamins" were actually anti-estrogens, designed to neutralize any trace of estrogens that their bodies might have converted from all that testosterone or secreted from their hot-rodded testicles. The pills also contained amino acids to help them build muscle. At the same time, Doctor Mark said, their sperm counts had climbed by an average of 60%, and the size and abilities of their prostate and cowper's glands had grown considerably. Their larger testes were capable of producing as much as three or four times more semen than an average male. And they were definitely turing into men. Aside from the way their bodies were "virilizing," as the doctor put it, their personalities kept getting much more and more aggressive. They were now very beligerent, cocky, overconfident, factors which caused them to very often get into fights. They even smelled like men.
Pat and I later realized why we were now so conscious of when a Blueband was in the room with us. With their enhanced masculinity bound to affect their sex drives, and our increasingly feminine forms, it was only a matter of time before something happened.
And something did happen. One night about two weeks later, I was in the shower and didn't realize Jim had come back from his workout early. Thinking he wouldn't be back for half an hour more, I stepped out of the bathroom without covering my chest with the towel. As I turned to corner I was surprised to see Jim sitting on his bed, sweated and looking pumped. I knew he had immediately observed my developments, and embarassed, I raised my arm to cover them up. He stood up and began stepping towards me. I could see the front of his dark blue sweats swelling outward, and I began to tremble. "No, don't," I pleaded. He didn't say anything.
All of a sudden he had pushed me over to his bed. "No, stop!" I shrieked. I started to cry. I was terrified. I tried to curl up in a ball on the far side of the bed, but the next thing I knew he had pinned me against the wall and was right on top of me. He held my head down, looked at me for a second, and tried to thrust his tongue into my mouth. I tried and tried to resist, but he was just too strong for me to struggle with. The next thing I knew his tank top was off. He'd flung my towel across the room and was examining my naked, girlish body. "Wow, it really has shrunk," he said, looking at the dense pubic hair in my crotch. I could feel his massive, large male organ throbbing against my leg through his damp sweats. "I think you'd better relax," he said, "or this will definitely hurt."
"No!" I said, "Please, please, -PLEASE- don't!" I begged. "Its no use," he said, continuing to rub his maleness against my leg, "Its already too late for me to stop." I was shaking so hard I didn't notice how he'd restrained me with only one arm while he slid off his sweats. I could now see exactly how much the Blueband treatments had enhanced him. His member was definitely more than eight inches long, and it was incredibly thick. His pubic hair connected with his chest hair to provide perfectly symetrical evidence of what hormone was boiling through his system. His rough, rippled body felt like a burning tree against my soft, sensitive skin.
I was still struggling and begging him to stop when he reached under the bed and produced a jar of vaseline. "No NO! -PLEASE-!, I don't want to!" I shrieked. "I do," he said, out of breath, as he applied some to the tip of his well-proportioned manhood. "You know, Mattie,'' he said, "have you ever seen a stallion mount a mare? That's exactly what this is going to be like."
My girlish efforts to resist were no match for him, and now he had forced himself behind me and had spread his legs around my backside. "Wow, your ass is so -big- and -soft-!," he moaned. I just kept crying. I felt completely helpless. His arms encircled mine, clamping them next to my chest, where his rough, rugged hands grasped both of my developments and pinched my nipples. He had me pinned with my face on his pillow and my butt in the air. I felt his narrow hips and hot, lubricated tip in position and tried to tighten myself, so he couldn't get inside me. "Its no use," he said, and he started to mouth my right shoulder. "Ah, you are so smooth and weak and -girly-," he moaned again. "Look how -wide- your hips are!"
After a few seconds he began biting me, and as I started to make a muffled cry from the pain I realized I'd lost my concentration farther down on my body. His head had taken advantage of my momentary distraction, and was now starting to enter. I tried to tighten up, but just couldn't. My muscles couldn't win against such strong pressure. I could feel them stretch as they gave up their struggle, allowing him to slide farther and farther in. I was in unbearable pain, and I soon realized his burning, iron-hard penus was all the way up inside me. I felt like I was being branded. He was out of breath, and began pumping and moaning in frighteningly powerful, rhythmic strokes. I now knew there was no point struggling anymore. It didn't take long before he came, and as I felt the explosion, it was as if he were completely filling my insides with his thick male fluid.
I don't know when he pulled out. I must have fainted, because when I woke up it was 6 am and I discovered to my dismay that I was still lying next to him. He was already awake and staring at me, with another erection. He began to reach his arm towards me and I winced out of fear.
"No..its okay," he said softly. "I'm sorry about last night." I was a bit surprised -- he actually seemed sincere. I winced again when he ran his hand up the inside of my thigh and started to slide closer to me. "Shhhh, easy," he whispered. I started to tremble again.
"Its just me -- Jim." I was still afraid, but there was genuine sincerity in his voice. He began gently kissing me on the mouth. At first I kept my mouth shut, but for some reason his sudden gentleness was relaxing me. He reached his hand down and began slowly sliding it down my smooth stomach and across the curves of my hips and thighs. "Wow, look at these thighs. Those hormones are really working." I shuddered again, but this time he was being much gentler so I didn't mind it as much. He startled feeling my shrunken genitals. "When did you stop having erections?" he quietly asked, easily holding my entire "penus" between the tip of his thumb and forefinger. I couldn't believe he was asking me this, but I answered anyway, shyly mentioning it was about two or three weeks after we'd arrived. "I was wondering that," he said. Then he started circling my nipples with his thumbs.
"Mmm," he signed, "They're growing nicely. They look like perfect little cherries." He kissed me again and began stroking himself. I shuddered as I realized how aroused he was getting but he tried to comfort me again. It felt really strange to be watching him jerk off again, especially now that I couldn't do the same to myself alongside him. He slid even closer to me, and now his hairy chest was pressed firmly against me. After a few minutes he reached orgasm, spraying a firehose of hot semen in between my legs. He chuckled and stared at me again, smiling. After a few seconds he reached over for the towel that was still on the floor and began gently patting me dry.
I was so ashamed by what happened that I didn't even tell Pat. Unfortunately, I must have winced when the nurse pulled down my pants to give me my injection. She immediately called attention to the bruises on my side. (Even though Jim had grabbed me very roughly, I couldn't recall having ever bruised that easily). "Ah, so it has happened," said the doctor. "Well, I think you should be prepared to get used to that, too. Welcome to womanhood." I was mortified at his attitude, and didn't say a word for the rest of the exam.
Now that Jim had had a taste, I found I couldn't keep him from getting his way. That night, after struggling again for a short time, I simply gave up and let him mount me again. What was the point if I couldn't fight him off anyway?
To my surprise, it wasn't long before I was indeed used to this drastic change in our "friendship." Within a week, I noticed I was instinctively starting to submissively spead my legs and arch my butt upward in receptiveness as he got behind me. It quickly got to a point where he expected to play "stallion and mare" all the time. My receptive, submissive feminine behavior soon spread to affect the way we related in other ways. I began listening to what he said, doing what he asked. I couldn't believe what a pushover I had become, but then it wasn't much use to resist anyway because of the strength difference between us. I started to expect certain things to happen at certain times of the day, such as when he returned from the gym. I realized I needed to keep Jim happy with me so that he would feel like he should be protecting me from other Bluebands -- Even though I was afraid of him, I felt like I needed him to protect me. I was feeling more and more like this was simply my place in the bizarre relationship we were developing.
As time continued and two or three more months passed, the physical and emotional changes I was showing and feeling continued. The doctor was right, my penus eventually stopped shrinking (hardly visible at all through my pubic hair at one and a half inches), but then by now I almost never thought about it anyway. I was gradually beginning to accept my curvier body, probably because Jim called so much attention to it -- he now always treated me like a girl (his girlfriend) and constantly called attention to my developing shape and female attributes.
I guess I really didn't mind the attention. It wasn't long before I began to respond to Jim's interest with interest of my own. Once, after he'd had me playing with his penus for a while, I started to get really curious what it would be like to put it in my mouth. As soon as Jim realized this, he put his hands on my head, pushed me down on him, and began giving me orders on how to suck. At first I gagged immediately, but it didn't take long before I felt more comfortable and even began enjoying the procedure, and making him moan.
At some point I realized exactly how feminine my mind had become. My sex drive was completely different -- the male "horniness" and urge to ejaculate had dissappeared so quickly after I'd begun the Pinkband treatments that I hadn't noticed any of the other changes in my desires. I never actually felt outright "horny" anymore; my whole approach toward physical contact had relaxed and eased. I was now more interested in sensual pleasure than pure sexual, though the idea of sex was still interesting to me. I couldn't remember at all what it felt like to ejaculate, but I no longer had any interest in that anyway. What I was interested in was making Jim ejaculate. I started to love sucking his big, powerful cock, and instead of the masculine desire to dominate and mount, I needed to be dominated and be mounted.
The differences in my body continued to follow the same course. My scrotum now barely "hung" at all, and held what was left of my testicles up, all the way next to my body. My curves were also continuing to round out and soften. My wide hips, large round butt, and full thighs were now part of my identity, and I stopped paying attention to how much they had changed the way I walked. At the same time, I realized there was no point denying I was growing fairly full breasts, so I started thinking of them as such and began to wear a chest supporter all the time. It really wasn't that bad -- I found it felt kind of good to let Jim play with them and suck them. My face was different, too -- I didn't look like a boy anymore. I really did look like a girl, a young woman. I even began shaving my legs and under my arms. Jim said I was even beginning to look and feel like a "real woman." Now that he was being satisfied on a regular basis, he also seemed a bit calmer, though he still couldn't fall asleep at night without an orgasm, and he often woke me up several times a night for more.
I gradually accepted my new position with him, as his "woman." I learned a lot more about the changes that were happening to him and the other Bluebands. He really was extra potent. He told me that somethimes he really had trouble keeping his erections down. At some point he had started wearing special jock straps that supported his massive testicles in a separate pouch, and allowing his penus room for invevitable hard-ons. I could see that other Bluebands were having the same problems -- even in the gym, as they struggled with heavy weights, the intensity of their workouts alone could provoke a hard on.
Not long after that, I reported for my weekend exam only to find that it was time for a different procedure. Nurse Leigh guided me into a separate side chamber that had a lot more medical equipment that the usual exam room. She laid me down on an angled table and put my feet into a set of stirrups. It looked like the same type of table used for examining a pregnant woman. The Nurse gave me a towel, removed my sweats and opened a side drawer. She produced an electric shaver. I was a bit frightened, so I asked her what was going on. "Nothing to worry about," she said, "I'm just preparing you for your next step." She proceded to shave my entire pubic area, all the way down in between my legs. Since the table allowed me to lay partially upright, I was able to watch what she was doing. Without the pubic hair, it was the first time in a long time I had gotten an unobstructed view of my genitals, and now I could see exactly how small my penus had gotten. It was so tiny. It was maybe the two-thirds the size of my pinky, and a very pale pinkish purple color.
A couple seconds later two older Bluebands came into the room with Doctor Mark. Doctor Mark started to talk to me as the two Blueband positioned themselves on either side of the table. "Now don't be nervous," he said, as if I wouldn't be. "This is a fairly quick procedure." In seconds the Bluebands had grabbed my arms and were strapping me down to the table. My feet were again secured in the stirups and my legs were spread apart. I started to cry. And then I felt the sharp pierce of a needle in my shoulder. "This is not going to put you out," said Nurse Leigh, "Just keep you drowsy and calm. This is a short procedure and there is no need to fully sedate you." The next thing I knew she had another needle and was walking over to the stirrup side of the table. I think I would have screamed, but I was already feeling the effects of the sedative. I was so exhausted it took all of my concentration just to keep aware of what they were doing.
One of the Bluebands reached with two fingers, aimed and taped my little peter up, against my pubic bone. Nurse Leigh reached with the needle down toward my crotch. I felt a few seconds of excrutiating pain as the syringe entered my scrotom, and then the whole area went numb. The Doctor leaned over with a scalpel. I suddenly realized what was happening, but couldn't even speak under the strong relaxant, much less resist. In a matter of seconds, he had made a small incision down the middle of my sac. The Nurse handed him what looked like thread, then another tool. I watched as he tied the string to cut off the blood supply to one of my shrunken testicles. I was crying, but I think more because I was scared than upset. He reached for a small scissor-like instrument. One of the Bluebands whispered to me, "Say goodbye to those little peanuts." I didn't want to watch, so I closed my eyes. But I didn't have to see it. I heard the snip of the scissors.
Supposedly, I had not been given enough sedative to make me go fully under, so I must have fainted. When I woke up, I was in the back room of the exam office in a bed. I was very groggy, but I had to know what happened after I'd passed out. My crotch felt a little sore, but not unbearably so. I was no longer tied, so I drowsily slid my hand down under the sheets. My little penus was still there, but my testicles were gone. Then again, with all the hormones and chemicals I'd been given over these months, they had been made permanently useless anyway. Maybe it was the symbolic meaning that scared me so much. But at least the incision made had been small; it felt like the cut was only an inch and a half or so, so I figured it would heal quickly.
I was released from the medicial area later that day, after another exam. Now that I no longer had testes, the doctor said I no longer needed such massive doses of hormones. It was the same case with the other Pinkbands, who he said had also been undergoing castration one by one. (Pat, he said, had had his balls removed two weeks ago). While we were under anesthesia, he said they had implanted each of us with a patch that would release female hormones into our bodies in levels that were only slightly different than those of a "normal woman." (The original, pre-castration injection regimen had apparently kept Pinkbands' female hormone levels much higher than a normal level to hasten our feminization). As each of us had what was left of our testes removed, the teachers began to call us by the feminine versions of our names. Pat was now Patty; I was now Mattie, which Jim had been calling me anyway. I noticed our paperwork had been changed accordingly.
It wasn't long before it was time for our next step in Pinkband treatment -- the procedure to create a vagina. Unlike traditional SRS, the school's procedure did not require preserving much of the penus' length so that a deep female orifice could be created from it. Doctor Mark said the Institute was using a new prodecure that involved using the shrunken penus only for the sensitive mouth/clitoris of the area. He said they had also found that watching their penuses shrink helped Pinkbands adjust to their "withering maleness and budding femininity."
There really was no reason to resist from this point, since I clearly was no longer capably of being a man (or even a boy), so I willingly submitted to the final operation. A special silicone tube was inserted and arranged in my abdomen in the proper location, and the nearby tissue was arranged to surround it, creating a realistically sized and textured vagina. A graft of my skin (sebaceous glands intact) was used to line the inside. The Doctor said because of this, whenever by body got warm the lining would sweat, creating a little bit of natural lubrication. My urethra was shortened and repositioned lower down, in the normal female location. A special dilation tube was inserted in my new orifice, and the Doctor said it was being left there for a month while the lining healed. After a week or so under close medical supervision, I returned to normal classes, now as a Yellowband.
Jim had been out on a trip with other Bluebands the day I underwent the final procedure to have the dilator removed. It took only five minutes to remove the tube, after which Doctor Mark examined how my new vagina had healed and pronounced me a "full woman." I wasn't that afraid of the exams anymore. Pat (which is what I still called her) had been telling me the procedure as he went through it himself, usually about a week or two earlier than me.
Jim arrived at about 8:00 that night. I knew what he had on his mind immediately as he locked the door. (Of course, -what else- was he always thinking of?). I was afraid it was going to hurt me, so as he approached me I started begging him to be gentle. But, as I should have known by now, when a Blueband gets aroused (which happens often) he only cares about one thing.
"I'll be as gentle or as rough as I want!" he threatened, "I am a stud stallion, you are my mare." He was already shirtless. "No!" I begged, "Please be gentle!" But he was already in a frenzy.
"WHAM!"
It took me a couple seconds to realize what happened. My resistance pissed him off so much that he smacked me across the face, hitting me so hard that he knocked me onto the bed. He was behind me and again had me locked below him on my hands and knees. "I'll fuck you however and whenever I want!!!" he roared, "You have a pussy now, a cunt, just like a real woman!!" I was trembling, as usual. In one sharp motion, grasped my light green shirt and supporter and tore them off me in shreds. His penus was pressing against my leg, and I could feel his rough hands untieing the string for my sweats. I can't remember having ever felt that helpless or vulnerable, though for some reason I didn't mind it that much. I was mostly just afraid of being hurt. There was nothing I could really do but submit. As I started arching my butt upwards and spreading my legs in receptiveness, he seemed to change from being pissed off at me to being pleased.
The next sensation I felt was completely new to me. As his tip entered my moist new spot, my whole body began to tingle. It was amazing, and I was so awed my eyes were glazing over. Half a second later, all of his maleness was completely up inside me. He began pounding, and I couldn't believe it, but I began sighing, it felt so good. It felt so natural I couldn't believe I hadn't had a vagina from birth. After maybe five incredible minutes, he pulled out, rolled me onto my back, straddled and mounted me again. A few minutes later, as I felt him explode inside me, the tingling ran through my entire body.
By the following year I was deemed mature enough to help out with the incoming students of the next class. My assignment was a Pinkband who had just arrived. His name was Chris, and he was thirteen years old. He was from Idaho, and was sent to New Outlooks by his Aunt and Uncle, who he said were fed up with discipline problems he kept having at his old school. He was a beautiful young boy, with wavy blond hair and bright blue eyes, obviously just barely entering puberty. He was a prettyish boy, like Pat had been, with perfect, if somewhat immature facial features. His voice hadn't changed yet, but I could tell he was starting to become aware of the slight beginnings of his maleness. He was also completely oblivious of what the Pinkband treatments were already in the process of doing to him.
Chris immediately seemed attracted to me, and I decided there was no harm in leading him on. It might actually be fun. He seemed puzzled by the neausea he had that first week, but like I had, he settled in fairly quickly. I was sure not to say a word that might clue him in as to what actually was happening to him. By the following week I decided to sneak into his room for the night. It wasn't long before we were in his bed, examining each other's bodies. He really wasn't even starting to mature sexually, but there was something about that that attacted me. As we spoke he admitted that it was only during the past few months that he began paying significant attention to his genitals. His shoulders and hips were about the same size, making his frame look especially young and immature, and his nipples hadn't quite reacted yet to his new hormones. He was just starting to grow pubic hair, and I guess was so close to the beginning of puberty that he had hardly any hair anywhere on his body. Maybe it was the though of watching the beginnings of his masculinity fade (like mine had) that had me so captivated.
After we had spoken for a few minutes I guided his hand up and he shyly began to feel and fondle my breasts. We were laying close together, and he seemed curious to study my curves and features -- with just cause. By now my body showed no trace of evidence that I had once been a boy; I looked like a normal, maturing young woman. He was very cautious and very shy. I couldn't tell if this was because of his youth and inexperience or the early effects of his new Pinkband treatments. I assumed the latter, because he seemed more interested in fondling than in anything that a real man might be after. As he caressed my thighs with one hand, he reached for his penus with the other. Though he had been recieving Pinkband injections for under two weeks, he'd already been given the first of the genital cream treatments, and the combination was already affecting his potency. He was obviously a beginner at jerking off, but he seemed puzzled by his sudden inability to get fully hard, or to hold that semi-erection for longer than a minute or so. He kept losing it and trying to pump it up again. His weakened, struggling young prick was maybe four inches in its half-flaccid state, which was about the maximum he seemed capable of. Still, it had an amazingly perfect and round head. I knew it wouldn't be long before it would begin to shrink noticeably. I reached to play with it and he blushed, like he was ashamed to show me his suddenly limited abilities. (As if I didn't know about them anyway). A few minutes later he was laying on his back, and I was kneeling in between his legs sucking him.
With most of his own male hormones probably out of his system by now, he probably would have been satified just with that, but I wanted to test how much of his maleness was left, and to give him one last conquest. It was only a day until his second cream treatment, after which time I knew he would probably be rendered completely impotent. I gradually moved myself upward, wrapping my legs around his back, and pulling myself closer to him. He realized what I was doing and his interest seemed to rekindle a bit. He leaned over on top of me and got himself in position. We gradually worked his penus back to a barely-erect state and he tried to insert. After several whimpy little cautious thrusts failed, I looked up at him and decided to deliver a nice psychological blow. "What's the matter?" I said, "Not man enough to get it up and in?
He looked like he was going to cry, but then when he saw me reaching for it, his interest was rekindled, and after a few more, equally pathetic tries he finally managed to push his head in.
His efforts as a male were quite pitiful, but he satisfied me just the same. He kept losing his erection and was obviously embarrased about it, but eventually he pushed in a few weak, short twitches and I new he had come. I couldn't tell if he had ejaculated (I certainly didn't feel any noticeable fluid), but he immediately went completely soft again.
"I'm sorry," he said, blushing in the same way a thirteen year old girl might. "I don't know why I couldn't keep it up. I just haven't played much with it the past week or so. I don't know why. Maybe I'm out of practice. I'll do better next time."
"Yea, I bet you will," I said, slyly. I knew it had probably been the last erection he would ever have.
END