|The Transformation Story Archive||The Other Sex|
The Guinea Pig
It wasn't that long ago that Gloria Watson had been using drugs uncontrollably and, out of despair, attempted suicide. Now her rehabilitation was almost complete. All that remained was a departure interview with the director of The Institute, the facility which had saved her life and restored her to sanity. Gloria knew Dr. van Damme by reputation only and did not know what to expect as she entered her office.
Dr. van Damme rose to greet Gloria. Gloria tried not to gawk. She had known that the doctor was a woman, but that she was as strikingly beautiful as she turned out to be. She was tall, blonde, and dressed all in white; suit, blouse, hose, and pumps. A small name tag pinned to her jacket said "von Damme". She wore little make-up and her hair was gathered up in roll on her head.
"Hello Gloria. It's a pleasure to meet you at last," said Dr. van Damme extending her hand. "I'm glad your recovery went so well."
Gloria took the proffered hand, shook it, and the two women sat down on the couch where Dr. van Damme opened the conversation. "Gloria, I want you to tell me in your own words what happened to you. How you wound up here, and how your experience here will enable you to function in the real world again."
"Please, Gloria, call me Justine."
"My troubles started after I married my ex-husband, Joseph Watson. He was everything any girl could ask for. Fantastically wealthy, handsome, and sexually insatiable. He was thirty and I was twenty. Being young and coming from a lower middle-class family, I was in awe of him and his wealth. I always felt inadequate around Joe and he did everything he could to reinforce my perception. What did the marriage, and me in, was his continual betrayal of me. Joe just could not resist bedding any blonde with a big chest. I'm sure you've noticed that I conform to his ideal. I later learned that he has always behaved in this manner, why he even has a son who is almost my age; he got a girl pregnant when he was only twelve!"
"After a year of my trying to get him to settle down, he divorced me. I blamed myself and my shortcomings for this. He provided me an extravagant settlement and I tried to loose myself in drugs and alcohol. When that didn't work I tried to kill myself. A friend shipped me here to your clinic for treatment and to avoid any scandals in the tabloids."
Dr. van Damme poured out coffee for them. "And what have you learned from your treatment here?"
"Well, I don't blame myself anymore. None of what happened was my fault; it all lies with that son of a bitch. I really believe he wanted to make it with all those women because he's really insecure about himself. Take his height for example, Joe is only five foot seven but always wanted to be six feet tall. I don't feel ashamed and guilty any more. I'm mad as hell and I want to get back at him for ruining my life and almost causing my death."
"Gloria. Surely you don't mean that."
"I certainly do Justine. I don't know yet what I will do to get even with him, but I will spend the rest of my life trying, if that's what it takes."
"You certainly seem determined Gloria. Perhaps we can find a way for my organization to help."
"But Doctor, I have no more money. I'm broke."
"You needn't worry about that Gloria. Anything's possible."
Dr. van Damme produced a file. "We investigated your husband during your stay to see if the things you told your therapist were delusions or reality. It makes very interesting reading. He's certainly deserving of some severe punishment, and I think it would be even more fitting if he paid for it himself. I'm sure we can work something out."
"Oh Justine, could you? Would you? Joe Watson is a powerful and wealthy man, are you sure you want to get involved?"
Dr. van Damme spoke into her intercom. "Clarice. Bring in a blank contract form please." Then continued, "Gloria I fear no man like Joe Watson. My organization operates in many areas, and as a result, has made numerous friends of real influence and power. Joe Watson can't hurt me, he can't even find me if I don't want him to. Besides I've taken down bigger than him before. Now shall we discuss specifics?"
Joe Watson followed the girl into her hotel suite. Congratulating him-self silently, he thought, "man, what a fox. She's so hot, and I'm just the guy to give it to her."
Joe had been captivated by her since he spotted her in his customary pick up joint. She was all tits and ass and paraded them proudly. His cock was as hard enough to drive nails and he couldn't wait to ram it in her.
"Want a drink Joe?" She called from the other room.
"Sure, eh... " He couldn't remember her name. "Make it Scotch and water."
Joe and his date sat on the couch and sipped their drinks. He wanted only to rip her dress off and go at it then and there. He played it cool though, thinking he might be able to enjoy this one for more than one night.
"Tell you what Joe, why don't I go slip into something more comfortable?"
She left the room and Joe thought, "Hot damn. Here we go," and downed the rest of his drink in one gulp.
When Joe's date returned she was wearing something more comfortable; a sweatshirt, jeans, and tennis shoes. Joe didn't seem surprised. In fact, he didn't even notice. The girl eyed his inert form on the couch for a moment, then dialed the number she had been given. "He's good to go. Come and get him."
She retrieved her bag and belongings and after making sure that the door was unlocked she departed, leaving Joe to his fate.
"You can open your eyes anytime now Mr. Watson. We know you're awake."
"I was just trying to collect myself and remember what happened," said Joe.
Opening his eyes he saw an older man wearing a white coat and carrying a stethoscope. Glancing about he noticed he was restrained in what appeared to be hospital bed. Furthermore, he saw wires leading from his bed to a bank of monitors that were meaningless to him."
"What happened? I have a heart attack or something."
"No. Nothing that simple I'm afraid." Let me get the director to explain the situation to you.
Several minutes later Joe looked up as a pretty blonde entered the room. "Mr. Watson, welcome back to the world of the living. My name is Dr. van Damme and I'm sure you have many questions... "
"You bet I do babe. What happened, where am I, and when can I leave." Joe interrupted.
"To answer your questions in order. You were drugged; slipped a mickey I think the vernacular is. You are on my private island, far removed from the United States, and I don't know when, if ever, you can return there. Does that satisfy your curiosity?"
"What the fuck is going on here? Who the hell do you think you are?" Joe exploded.
His answer was a slap from Dr. van Damme that rocked his still woozy head.
"I'll thank you to keep a civil tongue in your head. The story your associates will put out is this; as a result of your notorious womanizing, you have contracted AIDS. You have secreted yourself at a private clinic outside the United States to undergo experimental therapy, much as a famous actor did not to long ago. Eventually you will succumb to your illness and your remains will be cremated. After that, it won't be long before the world forgets that Joseph Watson ever existed."
"How could this be happening to me?" Joe wondered. "Who put you up to this?" He demanded to know.
"The answer, Mr. Watson, is that you did. The way you treated your ex-wife, and the way you've treated women all your life, caught my attention. That, and the fact that you were vulnerable."
"That goddamned bitch Gloria. Figure her to get mixed up in something like this." Joe thought for a minute. "What do you mean vulnerable?" "You were such a disagreeable person that no one cared for you. We were able to influence every individual who might be concerned over your absence. They all sold you out. You were a failure as a person Mr. Watson. That and your miserly penny pinching did you in."
"What are you talking about?"
"You were too cheap to keep a good law firm on retainer. I'm sure if you had, that they would have advised you to change your will immediately after your divorce. As it was, you didn't, and have created all manner of potential difficulties for yourself. Such as the one you're in right now."
"Let me go. Look, whatever she's paying you I'll double it, no wait... , I'll triple it."
"Lets understand one thing Mr. Watson. Your wife didn't put us up to this. We put her up to it."
"So what's going to happen?"
"When you die, your wife will become executrix and administrate of your estate, at least until your son becomes twenty- one. She's going to pay us for our 'treatment' of you and a good portion of the fees will be rebated to her via overseas bank accounts."
"And how much is this treatment of mine going to run." Inquired Joe.
"About five million dollars to start, but that's just the beginning. The Institute provides many services; psychological, surgical, behavior modification, anti-aging, and infertility just to name a few. Many of these treatments are unsanctioned in the industrialized countries, such as injecting fetal cells to reverse the aging process. Our many affluent clients come here, where any treatment they desire can be provided. Whether or not their nation's medical authorities consider them effective or ethical. Even so, these treatments have to be tested somehow and that's where you come in. Your wife made you available to us to perform research on as part of your punishment. In addition to the base fee of five million, your wife guarantees us a profit of thirty-five percent on all procedures performed on you."
"But what exactly is it you plan to do to me?
"The bad news, Mr. Watson, is that we are going to create a new you. We will change both your appearance and your personality. The good news is that you have shown a definite preference for the design we are going to use."
At this point Dr. van Damme retired. Leaving Joe to contemplate her cryptic announcement as he drifted off into unconsciousness.
Joe lay in his bed. He didn't want to get out of it. Even walking across his small room to the toilet seemed to wear him out. He'd lost all track of time and didn't know how long he had been here. Severe diarhea had afflicted him shortly after his arrival, he'd lost a lot of weight, and was exceedingly thin. He still didn't feel quite right, his skin was pasty white, he'd grown a beard, and his sex drive had vanished. This last worried him most. Joe had always prided himself on his virility. He couldn't even get a hard on to masturbate, no matter how erotic his thoughts.
Joe's image was displayed on a video monitor in the conference room. The doctor in charge of this phase of his treatment addressed the audience in the room. "Treatment has proceeded along the determined lines. The administered dosages of the prototype drug A6D have been effective. Subject's testes are no longer producing sperm or male hormones and are degenerating. There has been an ensuing loss of interest in sex as a result. Subject is, in effect, castrated. I recommend that A6D be commercially developed and made available to those governments that have expressed an interest in such a treatment for chronic sex offenders."
"Thank you doctor," said Dr. van Damme. "Your work, as always, is praiseworthy. Now our genetic engineering department will have the floor."
A bearded young man, looking barely old enough to be a graduate student, approached the podium. "As you all know we have conducted extensive research into recombinant DNA theory. One of the easiest DNA chains to manipulate is that of the bacteria, Escherichia coli, which lives in the human digestive tract. A bacteriophage was introduced into subjects diet which exterminated all E. coli resident in his body. Subject then consumed foodstuffs containing our modified species. It has thrived and far exceeded our expectations."
"This introduced species produces natural estrogenic compounds as waste, which are then absorbed into the bloodstream through the lining of the large intestine. Analysis shows that the subject's hormonal balance is now that of a mature female. The only difficulty is that it is slightly on the high side. That's not really of any concern in this case, and we think we've found the cause. We believe this treatment can be manipulated to do away with the need for repeated dosages of almost any drug, not just hormones. Early experiments show a potential for a bacteria that can produce insulin. Furthermore, I personally feel this line of research warrants additional inquiry as having the promise to provide a reversible birth-control 'vaccine'."
Dr. van Damme led the room in a standing ovation for the researcher. "Thank you very much. If I don't miss my guess, you may have a Nobel Prize in your future."
Standing up, Dr. van Damme spoke into a small microphone. "You may commence."
Then she addressed the assemblage. "Well, I'm sure we can all agree that this subject is making an enormous contribution to scientific and medical knowledge."
Ignoring the snickering that followed her remark, she continued. "Next is a demonstration of a product that we hope will someday be in every beauty salon in the world."
While she spoke, attendants had entered Joe's room and restrained him to the bed. They were busily attaching connections between Joe's body and a control board.
Dr. van Damme spoke. "As you know women employ many methods of depilation. Few opt for electrolysis due to the time, pain, and expense. We hope this device will change all that. A process has been developed which we call batch depilation. As you know, when a person comes in contact with voltage, electrical current passes through the body, more often than not producing death by electrocution. An exception to this is electricity at high frequencies, not the radio frequencies used for some electrolysis, but rather four hundred cycles per second. This electricity passes along the skin. What we do is pass high voltage four hundred hertz power between electrodes attached to the skin, after desensitizing it. Then, as the current flows, it burns out the hair follicles. Let's watch a demonstration."
Speaking into her microphone, Dr. van Damme said "You may proceed with the presentation now."
Joe didn't know what was going on. He offered no resistance, lacking both the energy and the inclination for such a move. His skin had been coated with a slimy gel which tingled for a moment then stopped. Metal bands had been fitted around his body at various intervals from his feet, up his legs, around his waist, chest, arms, and even his fingers. He was fitted with a collar and then a cap, not unlike those used with the electric chair.
The technicians stepped back and threw a switch. There was a humming sound and Joe felt the skin on his right calf tingle. After a period it stopped, only to be repeated at another location on his body. There was the odor of burned hair in the air. Finally, the bands were removed and a mask was fitted over Joe's face and the procedure was repeated there. The technicians removed all their equipment. An aide came in and helped Joe to the bathtub.
Dr. van Damme changed the video pickup to the bathroom and she and her staff observed as Joe was bathed. They watched with fascination as the goo was scrubbed from Joe's body, for along with it came his hair.
All of it!
"As you can see it is quite effective. We can choose the area to be treated. The process is quick, cheap, and relatively painless. You will notice that the subject now exhibits no hair anywhere on his body except in the pubic region."
Joe was put back in bed and administered a sedative. Totally hairless, and bald as a baby, he drifted off to a gentle sleep.
Joe lay face down on an operating table in an amphitheater. He was anesthetized and could neither feel nor move. In his euphoric state, he could not pay attention as the as the surgeon described what was happening to him.
"Today I am using micro-miniature appliances, incorporating fiber optics and lasers, to demonstrate some inspiring developments in surgery."
"First, I am performing liposuction to effect body contouring. As I am sure you are well aware, this is a high profit margin business for us. However, I am going beyond conventional routine here today. In order to create on the subject the smallest waistline possible, as called for in the treatment protocol."
"Accordingly I have made a small incision at the spine where the lowest set of ribs connect. I then insert a multiple lead fiber optic cable to carry video, transmit laser energy, and control the miniaturized equipment."
The surgeon accomplished this and went on."Now I simply cut through each rib at the spine, severing them. I inject a radioactive compound, with a short half-life, into the marrow to kill it. Next I apply a sealant to the spine to prevent any attempt at reattachment.The rest is simple. The bones die and gradually become brittle. Subsequently, the subject is exposed to the ultra-sound shock treatment used to break up kidney stones. This shatters the now fragile bone, and the body assimilates the fragments as it would any source of calcium." The surgeon finished up.
"Another advantage of this procedure is that there is no scarring. Surgical adhesive is applied to the entry puncture, and we are done." The surgeon departed with a smattering of applause from the gallery.
Another surgeon appeared in greens. "Good morning. I am going to continue the physique contouring started by my esteemed colleague. As you know the subject of weight reduction is complicated by the fact that once formed by the body, fat cells are never destroyed. When the body is starved, as when dieting, they just give up their fat and remain where they are, waiting to be refilled. Liposuction as performed earlier does remove these, but here I venture a step further."
The surgeon did something to Joe's hip.
"I separate the fat cells by centrifuging them, then filter them to a uniform size with a permeable membrane. These cells are collected in a tank and, using a process I call lipoaugmentation, re- inserted into the body according to a computer generated matrix. You now need only place the subject on a high fat diet. When the fat cells refill, the body assumes the desired profile."
"Notice that I have inserted a probe into the hipbone to function as an dispenser. It serves as a reference point for the matrix, and the re-introduced empty fat cells are deposited around it automatically by the computer."
Nothing more was said as the machines performed their work with mechanical efficiency. The surgeon readjusted the probe to several points on Joe's hips and buttocks. Eventually, everything was removed.
At this point two attendants came and rolled Joe over very carefully. Joe stared up at the ceiling wondering what was going on. He languished in daydreams, unable to focus on the activity going on around him. He shut his eyes.
The surgeon, meanwhile, had gone to work on Joe's chest. The needle was inserted down the center of each nipple to the breastbone. The surgeon took notice that they were not the typical vestigial nipples of most males, but rather they exhibited the developmental characteristics of a pubescent female. The machine completed it's assignment and the next surgeon entered the operating pit.
After countless days of suffering, Joe awoke in a sunny room. He was agonizingly stiff, swollen, and sore. He couldn't find a part of his body that didn't hurt. Dr. van Damme and several other persons stood around looking at him. Joe tried to move and discovered that his entire body was restrained.
"Well it looks like our surprise is ready to be unwrapped," said Dr. van Damme."
Joe's torso and legs were released. He discovered that his hands were surrounded by some type of box, his feet were in casts, and he had no feeling or freedom of movement in his extremities.
"Dr. Morgan would you describe for us please your modifications to the subject."
An elderly doctor came forward. "Thank you Dr. van Damme. This is a procedure we have been working on at the request of another branch of our organization. We have been able to alter the subjects fingerprints."
The assembled onlookers showed great interest.
"Do go on Doctor."
"Well using computer controlled lasers at an oblique angle we were able to eradicate the center of the original print. An electron gun was used to, I guess burn would be the best term, a pattern onto the finger. The resultant scarring is regulated, and becomes indistinguishable from the loops and whorls of a natural print. With a sufficiently sophisticated program you can not only change someone's prints, but give him another person's."
Understanding the possibilities inherent in this, the crowd murmured it's approval. Another doctor was working on releasing Joe's feet from their confinement. At Dr. van Damme's cue he explained what he had done.
"What you are looking at gentlemen represents a turning point in reconstructive bone surgery. I have actually accomplished two feats here, if you'll pardon the pun. I have taken the subjects feet and rebuilt them to Dr. van Damme's specifications. What were a man's size ten wide are now a perfect woman's size eight medium."
There was talking by his audience but no questions,so he continued. "What is really interesting are the other adjustments I was able to make. You know how we podiatrists tell the girls to stay off of high heels. Slaves to fashion that they are, they never listen to us and, as a result, suffer many foot ailments as a result. It seems that the human foot was just not designed to walk in high heels."
"Doctors, what I have done, is to devise and create such a foot! I strengthened the weight bearing bones and made alignment changes to the metatarsal bones. These feet could run a marathon in spike heels."
The amazement of the group was apparent.
"And now last, but certainly not least, Dr. Brenner will enlighten us as to his accomplishments."
"Thank you Dr. van Damme. I too work in reconstructive surgery. One problem faced in severe damage to the hands and feet, is the permanent loss of nail growth, which serves to protect the fingers and toes. Our material department has been able to fabricate an acrylic polymer that is indestructible by any means available to us here. What this means is that we can formulate a replacement nail that will last forever."
The Doctor busied himself with the box which held Joe's left hand. "You have to be very precise in your measurements with these because once they set, that's it. These were modeled to Dr. van Damme's specifications and have been anchored to the subjects finger bones."
Looking at Joe, he giggled and said, "I would avoid countries which practice torture if I were you, young man. I can guarantee that your fingers will pull off before those nails do."
Still groggy, Joe just looked at him blankly. His hand was freed from the box. Joe tried to move his fingers, but they were too sore. He held his hand up to his face and gasped. At the end of each finger was a long oval nail at least an inch long.
AND THEY WERE BRIGHT RED!
The doctor went on, "These nails will take some getting used to and I must warn you to be careful until you are accustomed to them. They could be dangerous."
Addressing Dr. van Damme he went on. " I believe you will find that these nails will not chip and the colors will not fade."
Joe's other hand was freed and it joined it's mate. Joe stared, in shock, at the long red talons, now permanently attached to his fingers. The doctor released Joe's feet from their containers.
"I also took the liberty of replacing the subjects toenails while I was at it."
Joe struggled painfully to move to a position from which he could see his feet. He was rewarded with the sight of ten cute little red toenails peeking back at him. He noticed that his feet were indeed much smaller and somehow more graceful. He moved them and observed that they flexed in a peculiar manner.
Engrossed with his fingers, Joe failed to notice Dr. van Damme motion everyone to leave. he looked up to find her alone with him.
"Please doctor. Tell me what's going on here. Why are these things being done to me?"
"Because, Mr. Watson, you are at hand. We needed a test subject and you're it. Also, as I once told you, we have contracted with your wife to erase any trace of Joe Watson from the face of the earth and dispense appropriate retribution in the process."
Joe wanted to learn more but she spun on her heels and walked out.
Two large attendants entered Joe's room. The larger of the two men motioned for Joe to get up. "Come. Bath." He said.
Joe stared at him. "What."
Having been instructed in his native tongue to compel instant obedience. The man slapped Joe's face so violently that Joe cried. Having learned his first lesson, Joe painfully maneuvered his body to where the attendants could help him out of bed and walk him to the bathroom. He noticed that the bathroom was austere and lacked a mirror.
While bathing under the observation of one of the attendants, Joe noticed the curious lack of hair on his body. "Oh well. It'll grow back," he thought.
After poking himself with his new fingernails a couple of times, he learned to move slowly and carefully. He went to wash his hair. "So they shaved my head too."
While washing his face he found out about his peculiar lack of eyebrows. After he had dried off Joe was handed what looked like a standard green hospital gown. It was different from the normal hospital gown in two respects. It was made of silk instead of the normal cotton, pulled over the head rather than tying up the back, and fell to mid thigh.
Joe was able to return to bed unassisted. Walking back, he noticed unaccustomed pressure on his feet and tension in his calf muscles.
While Joe had been in the bath, the other attendant had been making up his bed. Joe discovered that the new sheets and pillow cases were slinky and slippery.
"Well I'll be," he thought. "Satin sheets. At least they go first class here."
Joe began to relax. Now that feeling had returned to his body, he took stock of himself. The stiffness and soreness had been reduced by the hot bath. There was a odd itching sensation at various points on his body. He probed his hips and buttocks were the feeling was concentrated. Nothing seemed wrong. He scratched his chest which also itched. He touched a nipple that was swollen and sensitive. Pulling out the front of his gown he observed that his nipples were enlarged. Further investigation disclosed the presence of a hard lump in each breast.
"Probably a reaction to some new drug they're testing on me," thought Joe. "Just my luck, they're probably looking for a cure for breast cancer."
One of the attendants returned with a food tray. After setting a table in place over Joe's bed, he put the tray on it and left. The smell of the food reminded Joe that he was ravenous. Opening the plates he discovered an abundance of food. He found that he had to adjust his handling of utensils to compensate for his long fingernails. Still, he dug in with abandon. Pancakes with syrup, eggs, bacon, milk, and orange juice. He ate it all and sated, Joe relaxed and was soon asleep.
Dr. van Damme and Dave Weinstein, her behavior modification specialist, watched the sleeping man on the monitor in her office.
"So, we are acclimating him to the feel of materials such as silk and satin on his skin." Asked Dr. van Damme.
"Yes Doctor. The texture can sometimes produce a emotion of resistance in a male. His subconscious knows that the cloth is typical of female garb and objects because of the inconsistency with his masculinity. By establishing the initial contact with such textiles in a non-threatening environment, the male accepts their presence and eventually regards them as normal."
"Thank you Dave. Keep me appraised of his progress."
Joe sat up in bed watching television. He was wearing an athletic shirt and boxer shorts. So what if they were red and soft. Besides, it was all they gave him.
Any woman, though, would have recognized what Joe was wearing; a satin camisole and tap pants set. And they weren't red, they were fuchsia. A distinction that Joe wasn't aware of, yet.
Joe finished his candy bar and drank the last of his soda,thinking, "I shouldn't be eating all this junk food. I'll get fat."
Joe was getting fat, but that didn't bother him too deeply. What did was the way it was being distributed around his body. He couldn't view himself in a mirror, but he could comprehend that his ass was getting fat and so were his hips. He couldn't see any increase in his waistline though. Indeed, it seemed to be getting thinner, so he didn't let it worry him.
Joe's nipples were another story, they had continued to swell. The increase in their size was evident under his gown. The red areas around the nipples had expanded to the size of a half-dollar while the hard lumps on his chest had softened and were expanding.
Dr. van Damme entered the room on one of her infrequent visits. "And how are we today Mr. Watson?"
"I, ... am fine."
"Excellent. Please be so good as to get out of bed."
Aware that his attendants were at most a call away, Joe hastened to do her bidding.
"Get undressed and put these on." She directed.
Not daring to disobey, Joe doffed his clothing and took that which she offered. "These" were a matching gown and robe. No pretense was offered to disguise their feminine style. The gown was blue satin and was edged in lace on the hem, and bodice. The robe matched the gown. It tied at the waist and fell to his knees.
"We're going for a walk Joe."
"But, Doctor, I have had trouble walking ever since that doctor worked on my feet."
At this Dr. van Damme produced two items. "Here. These should help you walk easier."
Joe was speechless. she had given him two tiny high heeled shoes. There wasn't much to them. Just a satin strap across the instep with some fluff attached.
"They are called mules Joe. Sit down."
Joe sat and Dr. van Damme placed the mules on his feet. She was not surprised to find them a perfect fit.
Joe noticed that his feet felt relaxed and natural in them. He stood up. After an initial shakiness, he managed to walk around fairly easily. "Wow. My feet feel so much better in these things."
"It seems Joe, that when the doctor modified your feet to accommodate high heels, that he made it difficult, if not impossible, for you to walk barefoot for any great distance or stand for any length of time. Your feet now need the support these type of shoes provide so you'd better get used to wearing them. Now follow me please."
As he walked Joe appreciated the way the shoes made his feet more comfortable. In addition, due to his insecurity about his height, he liked the fact that they made him taller.
"When I get out of here, I'm going to buy some elevator shoes," he thought.
Joe followed the Doctor to an empty room where he was told to strip and lay down on the bed. She returned and gave him a small glass of a bitter clear liquid to drink. Joe immediately felt lightheaded.
"What happens now Doc? Gonna let me in on your big plan?"
"Yes, perhaps it is time Joe. You might recall that I said that we were going to change your appearance and personality."
"Yes, I remember."
"Well we are using you as a test subject for many new drugs and processes which will reduce suffering in many diverse groups of people. You are, you might say, a human guinea pig. Unlike many test animals though, when we are done with you, you will be well taken care of for the rest of your life. Which, I might add, due to the nature of some of the experiments may turn out to be abnormally long."
"In addition to those experiments, in order to fulfill our contract with your wife, we have put many changes into effect on your appearance and now we start on your personality."
Seeming to float above reality, Joe giggled. "So what exactly is it you're changing me into?"
"That's the fun part Joe, and also your punishment. In the past you have displayed an attraction for large breasted blonde women that borders on compulsion. I believe, therefore, that you will be pleased to know that you will soon be joining their ranks. My only hope is that your new form will provide you with as much enjoyment as those of your playmates did."
Finding this hilarious for some reason. Joe continued to giggle as he drifted off into unconsciousness.
Joe's inanimate form lay on a platform surrounded by many pieces of complex machinery. Countless wires ran from the apparatus to points all over his body. His head from the throat up was enclosed in a sealed container from which the top of his bald head projected. Inside, Joe's unconscious eyes stared blankly into the darkness.
An incision was made around the crown of Joe's scalp, which was then peeled back to reveal his skull. A precision micro-saw then cut a circle through the bone. The bone was carefully removed revealing Joe's brain. A team of surgeons spent some time implanting a mesh of fine wires in Joe's cerebellum.
The leader explained their actions. "What we are doing here is connecting the subject's brain for a function plot using resonance mapping. An external impulse is applied to the body, or suggested to the subconscious, the brain responds. This point is then plotted on a three dimensional map, and stored in computer memory. This is not new technology, it has existed for at least ten years. The notable accomplishment here, is this; knowing where the function signals the brain, we now can duplicate that signal directly to the brain using a technique I call proto-resonance induction. What this means is we can act directly on brain responses, both conscious and unconscious. Leaving the conductive mesh under the skull will allow for future alterations without surgery. The potential for treatment of mental illnesses and obsessions such as drug or alcohol addiction is unlimited."
"Is the subject ready?"
"Good. Let's proceed."
"To start the demonstration we will apply external stimulation to the genitals."
After a short wait a green light came on.
"Good. We have that mapped. Now we apply external stimulation to the subjects breasts."
When the light came on he continued. "Now while stimulating the breasts we apply a signal to the area controlled by genital stimulation. The result is that the subject now finds manual stimulation of the breasts a sexually arousing experience."
"Now here is how I can influence behavior. The computer is suggesting an embarrassing situation to the subconscious mind. It is plotted and now the computer suggests a new experience."
He looked at some papers.
"Yes, this one is being seen bare-chested. While the allusion is in the mind, the signal is sent to the embarrassment center of the brain. The subject will now find the bare chest a source of embarrassment. You can see how this can be used to substitute desired behavior patterns for unwanted ones."
"To test the effectiveness of this process we will attempt to affect other senses." The doctor pushed a button.
"What I have done is release into the subjects nostrils a vapor containing an extract of the pheromone produced by a human female in heat. Normally the conscious mind is unaware of the presence of it. Ah yes, we have response."
The doctor pushed another button. "I have just released a vapor containing the pheromones excreted by a sexually aroused male. I apply the previous signal and, voila! I trust I do not have to draw you a picture."
"I am doing nothing here to affect the subject's prior sexual urges. Rather, you might say, we are expanding them. This machine can be programmed to provide any number of effects and can be left to run automatically. The response can be strengthened or weakened by adjusting the signal strength. Hypnosis can further reinforce any suggestions which may encounter resistance from the subconscious. The machine will now finish the task. Any questions?"
There were none and the group left the room. The lights were turned out leaving the blinking machines as the only source of illumination.
Inside the device, a picture of a naked giant breasted blonde, in a suggestive pose, was displayed to Joe's unconscious mind. The computer noted the strong response. A series of pictures of handsome and virile young men were flashed at Joe's mind. Along with each one went the feedback of the previously recorded signal.
Next a little cam whirled. Oxygen was routed to the tubes in Joe's nostrils and he was influenced to breathe through his nose. A probe was inserted into Joe's mouth while a low level signal was sent to his pleasure center. Joe's subconscious recognized the shape as that of an erect penis but the constant pleasure signal overrode it's objection. The probe was pushed in and out, eventually reaching deep into Joe's throat.
Previously recorded signals controlled Joe's responses. The gag reflex was muted and his throat was compelled to produce a swallowing motion. The pleasure signal increased in intensity. The computer then released a measure of fluid which in consistency, taste, and temperature duplicated that of semen. Some was swallowed, some overflowed his mouth and ran over his face. Joe's body, craving salt due to his diet, savored the fluid. Concurrently the machine pulsed the strongest possible stimulation to Joe's pleasure centers.
The machine ran through it's program, scattering cues and responses throughout Joe's mind. While Joe slept he became a new man. Only he didn't know it.
Joe came to in his bed. He was wearing a baby doll nightgown and panties made of satin and lace. Recalling Dr. van Damme's threat to turn him into a big boobed blonde, he stuck his hand under the elastic of his panties.
"Yes sir, little buddies safe and sound," he thought. "So much for that crazy doctor and her plan."
Joe's reverie was interrupted by the entrance of the most gorgeous babe he had seen in awhile. Even in her starched nurses uniform, Joe could make out the outline of her fantastic figure. Her long blonde hair was pulled back into a pony tail. She was tall. About six feet of everything that Joe desired in a woman. He could feel his cock stir in it's satin confinement.
"Hi. I'm Monica. I'll be your nurse from now on. And you are Mr. Watson?"
"Last time I looked. Where's the two thugs?"
"Oh they're around somewhere, I'm sure."
An attendant brought in dinner then left.
"I'll bet you're hungry Mr. Watson. You've been out for awhile."
"How long was I out? What happened to me?"
"I don't know Mr. Watson." Lied the pretty girl. "I just started on your case. You'll have to ask Dr. van Damme. Here you go. Bon appetit."
Joe realized he was starving and dug in with a vengeance, wolfing down salad, milk, rolls and butter, prime rib, mashed potatoes and gravy, and finishing with apple pie ala mode. Joe's meal had tasted pretty bland. He mentioned it to the attendant who told him he had been put on a no-salt diet on Doctor's orders
Monica left with the tray. Joe marvelled at his new found ability to put food away. It dawned on Joe that he was handling his long fingernails with no trouble. In fact, he hardly noticed them anymore.
"Boy it's amazing what the human body can adapt to," he thought. "There's got to be a way to get them off when I get out of here."
Joe hadn't examined the rest of his body and what a surprise was he in for. His eyes widened as his arm brushed against his chest. Pulling up his gown, he stared dumbfounded. What had been a case of swelling nipples were now full-blown breasts. Not quite massive, but definitely prominent.
What had been swollen nipples were now elongated cones, projecting out from abundant hemispheres of flesh. The aureoles around his nipples had continued to expand and they and the nipples were now a dark pink, almost brown.
Frightened, yet curious at the same time, Joe timidly brought his right hand up and touched his left breast. He was rewarded with a strong sensation of pleasure. He grasped the nipple between his index finger and thumb. The pleasurable feeling increased as he increased the pressure on the nipple. He watched in amazement as the nipple responded to his touch. It enlarged and became rigid. As Joe rolled the nipple between his fingers he felt his penis awaken.
Stopping for a minute, Joe padded to the door. Satisfied that the hallway was empty, he went to the bathroom. Elated that his cock was working again, Joe raised his gown, pulled down his panties, and then sat on the toilet, fondling his breasts and stroking his cock, awash in pleasure.
Joe's cock never did become totally erect, but finally spasmed and discharged a watery impotent fluid. Joe wrote this off to it's long inactivity, wiped himself off, replaced his attire, and flushed the toilet.
Proud of his performance, he returned to bed. Smugly thinking. "So that doctor thinks she can turn me into a bimbo. Well we'll just see about that!"
He hadn't noticed how his forearms brushed against his hips as he walked.
In her office, Dr. van Damme turned away from the monitor. "So Dave, is this all part of the plan?" She asked her director of behavior modification.
"Yes Doctor. In fact, he is ahead of schedule."
"What's next Dave?'
"I understood doctor, that there were some more physical changes to be concluded before we went on psychologically."
"My next stage is to get him dressing in feminine apparel."
"And how will you accomplish that?" Asked Dr. van Damme.
"During his session with Dr. Baxter's mind machine," he used staff slang, " I had instilled in Joe, the psycho-sexual response of the typical transvestite. You may be aware that these are men who feel compelled to dress in women's clothing, and obtain great sexual stimulation and pleasure from doing so. I masked this character trait, so we need only hypnotize him, give him the release cue, and his first experience in female finery will conclude his imprinting. After that, I'd venture a guess that you couldn't keep him out of women's clothing. Would you like me to do this now?"
"No Dave, not just yet. Let's allow Joe to reach his full development. No sense wasting money on clothing now, that will no longer fit him when his tits and ass stop growing."
Joe finished another enormous breakfast. Many days had left him no illusions as to where the food was going, but he felt no urge to diet. His breasts were expanding mounds. Jokingly he mused, "If this keeps up I may need a bra." Rejecting the notion as trivial, he gave it no further thought. Everything would be corrected once he got out of this madhouse. "Let them have their little fun. We'll see whose laughing at the end."
Joe was now aware of the fact that he had to hold his arms out away from his body as he walked. They couldn't hang straight down; his hips got in the way. He also had to swing them in an unfamiliar manner, to compensate for the oscillations of his tremendous buttocks as he walked. He felt like his whole center of gravity had shifted. Without his being aware of it, his gait had modified itself to counterbalance his new distribution of mass.
Dr. van Damme and her chief plastic surgeon watched from her office as Joe went about his morning toilet. "What are the changes you want done to this one?" Inquired the surgeon.
"Just some minor detail work; the ears pinned back, the nose bobbed and those little implants put in to give him those high sexy cheekbones. I also want his eyes opened for more expression, and his lips made as full as your skill allows."
"No problem there. I'm ready when you are."
"Good. In a couple of days then."
By now Joe had dried off, and Monica was giving him a rubdown on the bed.
"You may find this interesting Doctor," said Dr. van Damme.
"The subject is being applied an experimental medication that will make us wealthy beyond our dreams. We have had great success retarding the aging process using injections of fetal material, however, many people objected on ethical grounds. The lab was able to extract the compound that produced that result and was able to synthesize it. Applied in a regimen of topical application it reverses the effect of aging on the skin."
"I remember the millions that poured out for Retin-A which was of dubious effectiveness," stated the surgeon.
"The money involved here will make that seem like a child's kiddy bank. Take this subject for instance. For several months now his skin has been replacing itself under the influence of female hormones. It now has all the characteristics of female skin, but he is still thirty-one years old. When his treatment is complete he will have the skin texture of an eighteen year old girl."
Joe relaxed and savored the tingling feeling that covered his body. It was almost as if his skin was alive. He wondered if he would get a chance to masturbate this morning. His cock and nipples stiffened in anticipation.
Meanwhile ... Back in New York.
Joe Watson's son, Robert, confronted his newly appointed guardian, Gloria Watson. "I don't care what the court says, my father wanted you out of his life. Just because he never changed his will doesn't give you the right to take over my life."
"Now Bob, that's no way to talk. It seems to me he didn't want you cluttering up his life either. I understand that, except for your support money and a birthday card once a year, you never saw or heard from him. Let's put the past behind us and work through these hard times together."
"Fuck you! Just wait till I get control of my money. I'll see to it that you're finished in this town."
"Fine Bob. If that's how you want it ... "
Joe awoke from a tortured dream, only to find his reality just as severe. He couldn't open his eyes or move his lips. His throat burned, his mouth was dry, and every part of his face ached. Just then he felt the sting of a needle entering his arm, relief, and
Joe sipped his milkshake. That's all the nourishment he'd had for some time now. He wore big braces on his teeth which prevented the intake of more solid food. The pads had been removed from his eyes and lips. He still couldn't speak.
Dr. van Damme, Monica, and several other people filed into his room. One of the men went to work removing Joe's braces. "I've straightened, capped, and evened his teeth up." Looking in Joe's mouth, he said "They're flawless."
Dr. van Damme and another doctor looked at Joe's face critically, the surgeon grabbing his head and turning it this way and that.
"Exquisite Doctor. Once again you've outdone yourself," said Dr. van Damme.
The surgeon acknowledged her compliment with a nod.
"So what do you have to say Joe?" asked Dr. van Damme.
Joe tried to tell her that he was fine but no matter what he did, no sound came from his mouth.
"What's the matter Joe? Cat got your tongue?"
The crowd laughed.
By trying to hum Joe was finally able to produce a noise. It was a high-pitched squeak.
"O.K., enough fooling around. What's wrong Joe, is that you've been given a new larynx. Many people loose theirs to throat cancer very year and an man made one that won't be noticed will allow thousands to speak again and rejoin society. The only difficulty is that the muscles that operate your new voice, function differently from your old ones. Mrs. Johnson here will be your speech therapist and teach you how to speak again."
The crowd departed and Joe was left alone for his first session with Mrs. Johnson. As he tried to speak he noticed that, in addition to his throat, his lips felt odd.
The following days reminded Joe of the movie "My Fair Lady". He felt like Eliza Doolittle learning to speak. Not only that, but after several weeks he spoke like her too! Not with a British accent, but in a sweet soprano voice.
Two things about this latest development bothered Joe in particular. First, he had to learn to operate new muscles to pronounce each word. This was a long process and so far he had only the vocabulary of a first grader, but Mrs. Johnson had told him that her sessions with him were almost over. Secondly, he didn't like the enunciation patterns that Mrs. Johnson had imparted to him; he now spoke in the slow breathy drawl of a seductive young woman.
One morning, Monica and another girl entered Joe's room. Joe was wearing a pink satin chemise gown with spaghetti straps, trying to ignore what was under it. His breasts had finally stopped growing, but it was too late as far as Joe was concerned; the new appendages were immense.
Joe didn't joke about needing a bra anymore. Now he wondered when he'd be given one to take the considerable strain of supporting the pendulous mammaries off of his pectoral muscles.
"Good morning Joe. This is Betsy. She's a cosmetologist and will be working on you today."
Joe groaned inwardly. He'd suspected that this would happen sooner or later. It seemed that every occurrence brought him closer to Dr. van Damme's promised outcome.
Betsy fussed around Joe's face. He felt her applying make-up to his lips, eyelids, and cheeks. When she was done, she took Joe's picture. The process was repeated several times.
Betsy was talking with Dr. van Damme as Dave Weinstein, Monica, and a strange man looked on.
"What color is his hair going to be," asked Betsy.
"Blonde." Replied Dr. van Damme. Thinking "As if we ever had a choice."
"In that case, I'd recommend this style."
"That's too subdued. I had something a little more extreme in mind."
"That we can do." Said Betsy, getting some colored markers and making changes to the close-up photographs of Joe's made up face. When she was finished Dr. van Damme smiled and nodded her approval.
"What do you think?" She asked the strange man.
Looking at the pictures, he replied, "No problem. Child's play. I'll go get my gear ready."
After he left, Dr. van Damme addressed Dave Weinstein. "While Joe is under for this, I want you to remove the block on his transvestite programming."
"Please get up and come with me Joe."
Joe had been expecting lunch, which was late. Instead here was Monica telling him to come with her. Too apprehensive to complain, Joe swung out of bed, slipped on his high heeled mules, and grabbed a robe which matched his chemise.
Joe tried to remain self-possessed as he followed Monica down the hall, but was not very successful. He knew he presented a spectacle; a bald man with the figure of a centerfold. Walking in his high heels produced a loud racket which resounded throughout the corridors. With each step his large breasts bounced awkwardly, the nipples rubbing against his satin gown, providing unwanted stimulation. He tried to straighten up and not swing his hips so much. This made his breasts even more prominent and walking more tedious.
They entered a room containing a bed and some unfamiliar gadgets.
"Strip and lie down on the bed."
Joe shed his robe and chemise. He felt uneasy, not being aware of his implanted need to conceal his breasts.
The strange man entered and Joe experienced intense embarrassment and instinctively covered his breasts with his arms. He was grateful when Monica covered him with a sheet, over which she placed a plastic mat for protection.
Monica produced a gas mask. Knowing the futility of resistance, Joe breathed deeply. As his awareness ebbed Joe saw the man raise what looked like a dentists drill and attach a bottle of red fluid to it.
"Wait a minute, that's a ... "
The tattooist turned on his needle and started to outline the unconscious man's appealing lips. He thought to himself, "Real pretty, this one's gonna be real pretty."
It didn't take Joe's, now youthful, skin long to recover from being dyed. While his face was still covered up, he was moved to a new room. He saw it for the first time the morning Monica took off his bandages. It was large, sunny, and finished in an extremely feminine decor. Joe was delighted by his new room, although he didn't know why.
"No more breakfast in bed for you." Monica told him.
"This morning you get dressed and eat in the cafeteria with the rest of us peasants. Now go and wash up, while I lay out your clothes."
Joe felt anticipation grow in him for some reason. "Hey, it's not such a big deal, going out for breakfast," he told himself, mistaking it's source.
There was no mirror in the bathroom, so Joe couldn't observe the remodeling that had been done to his face. However, as he washed, Joe could perceive some changes by touch; his nose felt smaller, his lips were fleshy and appeared to project out, over teeth that didn't seem to meet just right. He wondered about the tattooing on his face.
"I think I read somewhere that they can be removed by lasers," he thought to himself.
Then it occurred to Joe. "She's going to make me wear women's clothing today."
He was surprised that the notion didn't trouble him. In fact, he found the idea slightly pleasing. His worries over what had been done to his face faded, as he thought about how Monica would dress him.
Joe came out wearing only a robe. Monica handed him a pair of pink satin and lace panties. Holding them up, Joe looked at them and thought "these are going to be way too big for me." He pulled them up his hairless legs and adjusted them around his hips. To his great surprise, they were a perfect fit, except in the crotch where his cock and balls were obvious by their outline. The panties delighted Joe. He ran his hand over his ass, enjoying it's touch through the satin on his soft skin.
"When I get out of here, I'm going to have some satin briefs made for me," he decided.
Monica held up a matching bra. Joe stared at it, speculating on how his breasts would look, supported in the sheer cups. Monica showed Joe how to don the bra. She adjusted the straps so that his breasts were supported, and at the same time, displayed to their best advantage. At the same time, Monica was sure to follow Dave Weinstein's instructions to caress Joe's breasts and cock whenever the opportunity presented itself. "Wow, a D-cup, and it's a tight fit. He better give up those candy bars." Monica thought to herself.
Joe marvelled at the sensation of his breasts in their delicate confinement. He could view his nipples and aureoles clearly through the lace cups. He found the sight thrilling and his cock stirred inside his pretty panties.
Monica interrupted his thoughts."Sit down here Joe."
Motioning Joe to the chair, she held up a pair of what he recognized as panty-hose.
"Here Joe. You'll have to be very careful putting these on with those dragon-lady nails of yours. They're ultra-sheer and it won't take much to put runs in them. You pull the legs up like this, put your foot in; the seam goes across your toes, pull it up to your thighs, then do the other leg."
Joe followed her instructions.
"Good. Now position the crotch and pull the panty smoothly over your hips."
Joe stood there amazed at the feel of his legs encased in the taupe colored nylon.
"Man, I didn't know girls clothes could be such a turn on." Joe thought, not realizing he was talking aloud.
"Oh yes Joe. They can be so thrilling."
Joe admired the way his legs glistened in the delicate hosiery, delighting in the sensations he felt and the sound his legs made when they brushed each other.
Monica produced a slip, made of the same pink satin as Joe's bra and panties, with a lacy bodice and hemline. She put it over his head and let it slide down. Arranging the slip so that it hung properly, she noticed that the profiles of Joe's excited nipples were clearly discernible. The slip was a snug fit across Joe's broad hips and Monica could see the outline of his stiff cock underneath it.
Looking in the large walk-in closet Monica was amazed at the collection of clothing there; shoes, dresses, blouses, skirts, gowns, everything a fashionable young woman could want. It was all custom designed and made. She felt a momentary pang of jealousy which vanished when she thought. "He'll never buy clothes off the rack. He's a misses size ten with a size two waist and size fourteen bust and hips."
Returning with a pair of red leather pumps, Monica slipped them onto Joe's feet. "Wow. How does he do it? Those heels must be at least five inches high." Monica thought, watching Joe maneuver effortlessly in his pumps.
Monica held out Joe's first dress as he stepped into it. Resistance was the furthest thing from his mind; the transvestite programming had taken control and he was really getting into the swing of dressing up.
Monica guided Joe's arms into the half sleeves and pulled the dress up over him. Made of pink polyester with the look and feel of satin, it was a jacquard knit with a floral pattern woven into the material. Making sure that the slip was positioned, and after brushing against Joe's nipples, Monica pulled up the zipper. The dress was a tight fit across Joe's bust and hips.
The dress started with a high jewel neckline. Princess seaming ran down the front, accenting Joe's large bust, ending in a peplum that swaddled his womanly hips. The skirt of the pretty dress appeared from under the peplum, continued to below Joe's knees, with a slit in back so that he could walk. Monica buttoned the half-sleeves at Joe's elbows.
Joe looked down. His forearms which had been tan, muscular, and covered with wiry black hair were now pale white, slender, and hairless. They extended from the sleeves to end in delicate hands with long and luxurious fingernails.
Monica put a belt, covered in the same fabric as the dress, around Joe's narrow waist and drew it tight. Joe was encased in satin and was he ever turned on. Glancing down, he noticed his hard nipples, their outline projecting through his clothing. Unable to resist, Joe brought his hands up to his breasts and started kneading them. Excited beyond reason, Joe dropped his right hand and caressed his cock under his dress. This slight stimulation proved to be too much, as his cock erupted and pumped it's load of cum into his panties.
Joe was dazed. Never before had he experienced such an erotic rush. He stared at the expanding damp spot in his lap, then looked sheepishly at Monica. In his sugary voice he stuttered "gee Monica. I'm sorry. I didn't know ... "
Dr. van Damme and Dave had witnessed Joe's impulsive ejaculation in his feminine costume.
"Well Dave, it looks like your program worked."
"Yes Doctor, but we are at a critical juncture here. You see Joe's behavior is characteristic of a transvestite, as we wanted. The problem with this is, once a transvestite has experienced relief through orgasm he feels guilty. All he wants to do is get out of the clothes and forget about them until the next episode. We planned for this and think we can interrupt the pattern.
Back in the room, Monica smiled sweetly at Joe. "Don't get upset Joe."
Taking him by the shoulders, she forced him to look her in the eyes. "What happened to you is perfectly normal. Sexy clothing can be such a turn on. Now let's get you cleaned up."
Monica reached down and undid the belt. Turning Joe around, she unzipped his dress, eased it over his shoulders, and let it slide down his body into a soft pile around his feet. She repeated the process with his slip and it joined his dress on the floor.
Joe stepped out of the pile of clothing and turned around to face Monica. She placed her fingers under the waistbands of Joe's panty-hose and panties. Going to her knees, Monica pulled Joe's lingerie over his hips and down to his ankles.
To Joe's great surprise, Monica started licking the cum from his abdomen; she had never before shown the slightest interest in intimacy with him.
Monica took his wilted cock in her mouth and Joe felt himself becoming aroused by her ministrations. His cock tried to stiffen and his nipples got hard. Monica sucked his balls and cock entirely into her mouth and played with them with her tongue. She felt Joe's cock start to get hard and released it from her mouth. She had Joe slip off his pumps and remove his hose and panties. Joe stood there wearing only his bra. He wished the pretty blonde would resume the blowjob. She didn't.
Monica gave Joe a dressing gown to put on, which he did. He was handed his hose and panties. "These have to be cleaned before the cum dries in them," Monica informed him. "There is a bottle of detergent for hand washing delicate fabrics under the sink. Follow the instructions, roll them up in towel, then hang them over a bar to dry. I'll take your dress and slip to the laundry and lay out some other clothing."
As he washed out his lingerie, Joe found his thoughts concentrating on what clothing Monica would dress him in next. He found the contemplation exciting. "Damn," he thought, "What is it about women's clothing?"
Joe doesn't know it yet," said Dave to Dr. van Damme, "but from now on he'll find donning and wearing women's clothing to be extremely arousing sexually."
"That's excellent," said Dr. van Damme. "Because that's all he'll ever wear.
"Well, at least he has the body for it." rejoined Dave.
"Take off your robe and bra," directed Monica.
Joe's inevitable modesty asserted itself. "Can't I leave it on? It didn't get messed."
"Joe, as you learn to wear the clothing for which your body has been designed, you'll find that, unlike your men's underwear, different types of lingerie go with different outfits. What's right with one, is inappropriate for another. Now get that bra off!"
Joe struggled with his long nails and the unfamiliar bra fastening in the small of his back.
"I'd like to help you" thought Monica, "but you've got to learn to manage in your new attire."
Joe got the clasp released and his breasts spilled out of the bra's lacy embrace. He stood there naked, holding his bra in one hand with his other arm across his chest.
"What a feminine pose," thought Monica.
Monica went through the dresser. "There doesn't seem to be another pair of panty-hose," she lied. "I wonder what we can do?"
Trying to pretend as though this had not been meticulously planned, Monica pawed through the drawers. "Ah, that's it."
Monica held out what looked like a black piece of lace with strips hanging down. Joe recognized it as a garter belt. His wife Gloria would never wear one, but some of his conquests had. Joe blushed at thought of wearing the sexy garment yet, at the same time, he found the idea thrilling.
Monica fastened the tiny garment around his slim waist, adjusting it so that the garters hung down in the proper position.
"Sit down Joe."
He did, and she handed him a pair of sheer black stockings.
"Now carefully roll these up, fit the seam across your toes, and then very carefully roll them up your leg."
Joe did as he was told with the first one. Monica demonstrated how to connect the two garters. Joe put on the other stocking and got the garters attached. Joe stood up and Monica took the slack out of the suspenders, so that the stockings were held securely on his shapely legs.
"What an odd sensation." Thought Joe, walking around to get the hang of wearing a garter belt and nylons. He felt the garter belt tight above his hips, unable to slip down, and the suspenders flexing on his thighs as he walked, ensuring that his hose would stay smooth.
"Here Joe, put this on."
Monica handed him a white bra. Joe put it on as he had been shown previously. Hooking the bra up backwards, turning it around, and then pulling it up over his breasts.
Joe immediately became aware of several differences; the cups were not see through, but the profile of his nipples were unmistakable as they pushed out against the nylon cups, there were inflexible semi-circles under each cup, and the straps did not come over the top, but rather down the side of each breast.
The bra provided firm support so his breasts wouldn't bounce around uncontrollably, but at the same time it pushed Joe's titties together, holding them up and out. Joe eyed the resulting cleavage. It shocked him that there was so much of it, but secretly thrilled him. As was evidenced by his semi-erect cock.
Monica held out what Joe thought were panties to match the garter belt. He stepped into them and she pulled them up, over his nylon covered legs. It wasn't a panty, but a very brief black satin and lace bikini.
Monica adjusted it so that it rode on his hips. Joe's balls were very tightly compressed, being forced up by the tight satin crotch panel, which wasn't designed to hold them. Joe's erect cock was held tightly against his abdomen, but the black lace wouldn't stretch to cover the head of it.
"... Ah, Monica, maybe I should tuck it back between my legs?"
"Why Joe, whatever would you want to do that for?"
"You know ... to hide it."
"Why? You're a man. Aren't you?"
"Yes, but ... "
"It still works, as you demonstrated earlier. Perhaps you'd like me to ask Dr. van Damme to have it removed?"
The suggestion chilled Joe. His cock and balls were the last discernible evidence of his manhood.
"That crazy doctor won't cut them off, will she?" wailed Joe in his girlish voice.
"Now Joe. How do I know what Dr. van Damme has in store for you?" lied the pretty nurse.
Joe was really panicked. "Please don't let her cut my balls off. Please get her to let me keep them."
Monica looked at the pretty man as he wept; her teasing him had gotten out of hand. She had to get him re-interested in dressing.
"O.K. Joe. I promise you, that I'll see to it, that you'll get to keep your precious little balls."
Anxious to get the plan back on track, Monica held up a sleeveless white silk blouse. Joe slipped his arms through the delicate garment and Monica buttoned it up the back.
Joe looked down. The square necked blouse opened up about half-way up his breasts, their creamy white tops were revealed, and the cleavage created by Joe's underwire bra left nothing to any onlookers imagination. The blouse was taut across Joe's bust. He noticed the outline of his nipples projecting out against the silk.
"Is everything they make me wear going to fit like this?" wondered Joe.
Monica handed Joe a pair of black patent leather pumps. Joe sat down to put them on. Looking at the spike heels, he was amazed that he could even stand up in them, let alone walk around.
Monica held out a black skirt as Joe stepped into it, then tugged it up over his hips. It was a very tight fit. Joe had to stand with his legs and knees pressed together, so she could get it up, which only intensified the pressure on his already aching balls. The skirt was made of black taffeta lined with acetate. Joe liked the way it felt, but how could he walk in it. "Aren't skirts supposed to have a slit in the back," he asked to himself.
Once in position, the skirt fell to his knees. Monica struggled to get the zipper up over his ass. Finally it was up. Joe looked down; he was mortified. The skirt was so tight that it outlined everything under-neath it. Not only could he see a panty line and the clips of his garters, but the profile of his balls and erect cock were clearly outlined by the tight skirt as it pushed them up against his body.
While Joe was considering his appearance, Monica wrapped a wide black patent belt around his waist and cinched it tight. It only contrasted the slender waist between his bust and hips. From a large chest on the dresser, Monica selected some jewelry and handed Joe a necklace of ebony beads and a matching bracelet.
Joe put them on. The bracelet dangled over his left hand and the necklace settled in between his breasts, the black beads drawing further attention to his creamy white cleavage. It was a weird feeling, to have a necklace resting atop his breasts.
"Don't move Joe," said Monica.
She was holding what looked like large hoops of polished ebony. Joe noticed that the circles didn't quite meet, but ended in a little pin. He recognized them as earrings for pierced ears.
"What the ... " Joe said as Monica fiddled with his right ear. He felt the post slide through a hole he hadn't known was there, then a slight pinching sensation as the clasp was fastened. Monica let the large earring dangle and Joe felt the weight of it pull down on his earlobe. She had him put the other one in, moving it about until he found the hole.
Monica gave Joe a black patent clutch. "What do I need this for?" he asked.
"To carry your things in. In case you haven't noticed, your skirt doesn't have any pockets."
"Well what sort of things do I have to carry around?'
"Not any make-up that's for sure, you silly boy," thought Monica. Instead of telling him that she answered. "You never know Joe. Let's start with a handkerchief."
She got a lacy hankie from the dresser and handed it to him.
"Come on Joe, let's go, before breakfast is over."
"Uh, Monica isn't there something else?"
"Why yes there is Joe. How silly of me to forget it."
She reached in the pocket of her uniform and pulled out a tag. It read: HELLO, MY NAME IS JOSEPH WATSON.
Monica attached it to the neckline of his blouse, right between his breasts.
This, coupled with the conspicuous display of his breasts and male organs, was to much for Joe.
He started to weep. "I meant, don't I get a wig to wear?" "Why would you want to wear a wig Joe?"
"So I don't look so foolish."
"Well, I'm afraid Dr. van Damme wants you to appear as you are, but I can assure you that you will have hair soon enough. Now come on!"
The embarrassed man tried to follow her, but he could hardly walk. By trial and error he figured out how to move; taking short mincing steps with his legs pressed together, and moving mostly below the knees. This delicate stride made his hips sway, even more than they normally did, and his ass swing in a wide arc.
The sensations of wearing tight revealing feminine clothes weren't the only things turning Joe on. The sounds he made as he walked did also; his high heels clicked out a staccato beat which echoed down the passageway, his nylon sheathed legs rubbed together with a dainty sound, his skirt made delicious undertones as his stockings slithered against the lining, and the swish, produced by the friction between the lining and taffeta, as his hips gyrated in their confining embrace.
Not only that but, pressed tightly between his tight skirt and abdomen, Joe's cock was stimulated by the skirt shifting, every time his hips moved.
Joe thought, "I'd better be careful, or I'll shoot a load in these clothes too."
Joe wondered why he hadn't drawn any attention in the cafeteria. "Surely, I must have been a sight," he thought.
Joe didn't know that there were two good reasons for his not causing a commotion; Dr. van Damme's staff was well trained not to display interest in anything out of the ordinary, and they had all seen more outlandish creatures than Joe Watson result from the Doctor's experiments.
Monica hadn't allowed Joe his customary huge breakfast, instead limiting him to cereal, skim milk, and fresh fruit.
Patting his taffeta wrapped behind Joe thought. "That's O.K. I certainly don't need to put any more weight on."
Joe worried about how he would get it off, once he was liberated from the island.
Back in his new room, Joe sat in a chaise lounge. He tried to adjust his position so as to relieve the pressure on his testicles. He felt very vulnerable with them exposed and constricted the way they were. The strain on them did not abate and any movement merely caused further discomfort. He found out that sitting still caused him the least suffering.
The room was equipped with a television. Turning it on, Joe observed nothing but soap operas. There were some magazines in a holder by his chair. He looked through them. They were all fashion and women's magazines; Cosmopolitan and the like. Joe had a sinking spell when he saw the dates on them; he'd been here quite awhile.
Bored, he picked up an issue of Vogue and started thumbing through it. Before long his transvestite inclinations had taken over. Looking at a particularly charming evening gown, Joe thought to himself. "I wonder how I would look in that?"
Just then Monica entered his room. "Get up Joe, you've got an appointment."
"Don't you worry about that. Just get moving."
Joe tapped down the hall in his heels, attempting to keep up with Monica in his restrictive apparel. Joe followed Monica into what looked like a lecture hall. There was a chair in front surrounded by machinery.
"Sit in the chair Joe."
Joe obeyed,and his aching balls were squeezed even more as he settled his plump behind into the chair. Monica tightened straps around his ankles, lap, waist, wrists, arms, and above his breasts. A strap around his neck pulled him hard against the back of the chair, but there was no headrest or support. Monica rubbed some lotion all over his bald head.
"What's this? The electric chair?" he joked.
Monica didn't answer. Instead, she produced a ball gag, forced it between his lips, and tied it in place. The lotion was then applied to his forehead and eyelids.
People came in, seated themselves throughout the room, and talked quietly among themselves. The room was almost full when Dr. van Damme entered with a man. Joe recognized him as the Doctor who had given him his fingernails. The group hushed as Dr. van Damme introduced Dr. Brenner then sat down.
"Has the desensitizing agent been applied to the subject?" The Doctor asked Monica.
He pulled a piece of the equipment out, turned it on, and swung it out on an extension over Joe's head.
"This is a further refinement of my work with the acrylics that produced the subject's fingernails. First I turn on the laser and outline the area to be covered."
As he talked he rotated the machine completely around Joe, keeping it focused on his head.
"The outline is stored in the computer's memory. Then I just turn it on like this."
There was a humming noise, not unlike a sewing machine, and Joe could feel a vibration in his head.
"The color is selected, the machine mixes it, and then extrudes it as a fiber which is randomly varied in cross-section and color for a natural appearance. Select the length carefully because, like the fingernails, once it's formed it's forever. The strands won't burn, fade, can't be cut or dyed, but at least you don't have to worry about split ends. Otherwise, the fibers are indistinguishable from organic hair. They need to be washed, regular shampoo will do, and sprays and gels will control the strands allowing them to be styled in any manner. I think what I have here is the ultimate in hair replacement."
Joe worked at his gag. "What are they doing to me now?"
"The newly formed fiber, before it solidifies, is connected to a needle and inserted into the skull where, once it sets, it is anchored permanently and can't be pulled out."
The machine hummed on.
After awhile it stopped. The Doctor moved another unit to the front of Joe's face.
"To replace hair not on the scalp, this device allows the fibers to be secured in the skin, much like a hair root. Also, like natural hair, these strands can be pulled out, but I understand that it's quite painful."
The Doctor aimed the light at Joe's forehead twice then turned it on. Joe felt a sensation of pressure on his forehead over each eye and then it was done.
"As you can see the length, color, and thickness are totally variable."
The machine stopped. The Doctor examined Joe's face. Joe saw the Doctor peek down at his cleavage, and felt a twinge of shame. There was more than a professional interest in the Doctor's eyes.
Was it desire?
The Doctor grabbed Joe's right eyelid and pulled it out. Using tweezers to grasp it, he moved the unit over to engage and clamp down on it.
"The machine even allows for individual detail work."
The machine buzzed slowly and Joe felt a tugging on his eyelid. The process was repeated on his bottom lid and then the left eye.
The small machine was pulled away.
Joe blinked. His eyelids were heavy and he felt lashes brush on his cheek.
"What have they done to my eyes?" he thought.
The Doctor spoke. "Now that the main unit is finished we can open the accumulator."
There was a click and Joe felt a weight on his head. He couldn't see it, but he experienced the odd sensation of mass pulling on his scalp.
The Doctor was congratulated by his fellows and they all departed, leaving Joe and Monica alone.
Monica came up and released his bonds. "See I told you you'd have hair soon enough. Now you have to worry about taking care of it."
Joe's gag was removed and the restraints released. Standing up, he felt the unfamiliar sensation of hair brushing against his neck and shoulder blades. Joe reached up and touched an enormous mass of hair. He pulled a handful forward over his shoulder. It was the color of gold.
He was a blonde.
Joe ran his long red fingernails through his long blonde hair. The transvestite in him loved it. He pulled more over. Hair covered the tops of his breasts and Joe could feel his new tresses hanging down his back, almost to his waist.
Incredulous, Joe followed Monica back to his room. She left him sitting on the chaise, still gazing at handfuls of his magnificent blonde hair. After awhile, Joe recovered from this blow only to get another; a full-length mirror had been positioned on the wall on the other side of the room. Joe just looked at it, afraid to go over and see his reflection. Finally his curiosity overcame his misgivings and the trembling man shut his eyes and walked over in front of the mirror.
Opening his eyes, Joe saw the most desirable woman he had ever laid eyes on. Completely astounded, he stared at her. The girl in the mirror appeared to be about twenty or twenty-one. Long blonde hair framed a oval face. Her eyebrows were narrow semi-circles, arching highly above provocative green eyes. Long lashes, thick with mascara, curved out from lids lined heavily in black. The blue shadow on the eyelids darkened to purple in the eye crease, then softened, as it rose, to become silver under the eyebrows.
The pert nose and high cheekbones added refinement to her face. Her skin was soft and ivory colored, except for rosy red cheeks. Opulent red lips smiled sweetly at him and begged to be kissed. In back of them, perfect white teeth sparkled. "That's me." Joe cried.
The only familiar reference was his green eyes, but even they were different; more open and wider as if he viewed the world in perpetual wonder. And those lips!
"But I'm not smiling," thought Joe.
The cosmetic surgery which had made his lips full and protruding had somehow formed his mouth into a permanent smile. Joe noticed that the bright red lip color matched his nails, and that his make-up was a trifle on the heavy side. "Wait a minute," he thought. "I don't have any make-up on."
"That's tattooed on my skin!"
Joe's panic was short lived as he stood there and stared at himself. He loved this babe whose image the mirror reflected and he lusted for her. Meanwhile the transvestite in his mind relished how sensual he looked. Joe became more and more aroused the longer he studied his reflection in the mirror. He had been reconstructed to look like a girl from one of his sexual fantasies. He couldn't believe it.
Joe's tiny feet were perched on black patent high heels. Shapely legs, encased in sheer black nylons, disappeared into the tight skirt which defined the contours of his broad hips which were further emphasized by the wide belt wrapped around his infinitesimal waist.
Joe's massive breasts strained against his silken blouse revealing an expanse of cleavage guaranteed to arouse the interest of any man who hadn't been dead for over an hour. A beautiful face, long blonde hair, slim arms, and graceful hands with their long red fingernails completed a vision of loveliness; Joe was every inch a stunning and desirable young woman.
Except for those inches outlined under his tight skirt!
Joe gazed at his reflection. His arousal grew until finally, without a touch, he ejaculated into his tight taffeta skirt.
Released from his enchantment, Joe removed his belt then tried to get his tight skirt off. It was tough going; getting the zipper down over his rounded ass, what with the long nails and all. Eventually he got it down, peeled the skirt off, stepped out of it, and threw it in the hamper.
Joe saw the advantage now of the bikini he wore. Since the head of his cock was not covered, he had come into the skirt, and his panties were unsoiled. There was some gooey residue on his abdomen however, and Joe went to the bathroom to get a tissue and wipe it off.
Once there though, Joe could only stare at the cum on his belly. He found himself filled with an overpowering need to taste it. Joe placed the tip of his right index finger in the sticky goo, then brought it to his red lips. His tongue snaked out and licked it. "Hmm." It tasted salty and somehow familiar.
Joe rubbed the fingers of his other hand in the sticky mess and brought it to his mouth. Hungrily he lapped his cum of off his fingers loving every drop of it.
"What's going on?" Joe wondered. Why did he find eating his cum so satisfying?
Joe decided that his body craved salt because of the lack of it in his diet. His chagrin alleviated by this bogus rationalization, Joe repeated his actions, alternating hands and sucking on each finger until it was clean. Somehow still compelled by his mysterious hunger, Joe returned to his bedroom.
Joe walked to the hamper. He didn't want to do this but was powerless to resist. Slowly, he reached into the hamper and withdrew his soiled skirt. Turning it inside out, he raised it to his lips, and hesitantly licked at the damp lining. Joe could taste his cum. He drew the material into his mouth and sucked at it vigorously. "What's happening to me," he wondered. He didn't really want to be doing this but something inside his mind forced him on.
"Is all this dressing and looking like a woman making me act like one?" Joe asked himself.
Joe sat on the chaise lounge feeling silly. He'd tried to remove his blouse but couldn't reach the buttons in back, so he remained as he was; half dressed.
Monica entered. She knew what had transpired, having watched the interlude from Dr. van Damme's office. "Let's get you undressed Joe."
"What should I wear to dinner?"
Monica wanted to say: "You've just had your dinner. Do you really want some more," but instead said "it's too late for dinner, but I'll get you a snack when your ready for bed."
Joe removed his jewelry. Monica unbuttoned the blouse and Joe shucked it off and put it in the hamper. Joe removed his shoes and placed them in the closet, removed his bikini, undid the garters, unhooked the garter belt and took it off. Joe removed his bra and stockings and went to the hamper with his lingerie.
"Wait a minute Joe. You have to wash your undies out by hand every night."
Handing him a short nightie, Monica said, "Clean them like you did your panties and hose this morning."
Joe put on the nightie to cover his breasts.
When he was done and had hung his underwear up to dry, he returned to the bedroom where Monica was waiting for him. Holding out a sandwich and glass of milk she said, "here eat this then get in bed."
After eating, and when Monica had left, Joe lay in bed, enjoying the luxuriousness of the satin sheets. He decided he liked the way his head nestled in the bulk of his blonde hair.
Joe didn't get dressed the next day. Monica brought him his breakfast, then Betsy arrived. Joe spent the day with her learning to care for his new hair. Betsy showed him how to wash, dry, and style it, trying to make Joe feel good about what had been done to his appearance. "Just think Joe, you'll never have to get a haircut." Or, "Think of the time you'll save not having to spend hours putting on or removing cosmetics."
"But why would I ever want to wear make-up in the first place?" thought Joe.
By the end of the day Joe could arrange his hair in any number of fashions; from a tight bun to adorable little ringlets.
Joe woke up groggy the next morning. He stumbled into the bathroom and splashed water on his face. There was now a mirror over the sink. It shocked him to see his face, first thing in the morning, all made up as if he had just left a beauty salon.
"I guess I'll have to live with it for awhile," he thought. "I know tattoos can be removed or covered up. I'll get rid of this face once I'm home."
Joe opened the closet and looked at the vast array of dresses there wondering which one he might be dressed in today. He got turned on thinking about the clothing. Going to the bathroom he sat on the toilet and massaged his breasts until his cock was hard. Now when he masturbated he used his right hand and beat off into his left.
After he had come, he consumed the semen in his hand, savoring every drop.
"Surprise Joe!" said Monica. "You get to go to the beach today. You need some color."
Instead of a dress Monica put Joe in a swimsuit. It was a very revealing one-piece made of spandex. The strapless suit was black, except for the elasticized top which was white with a big bow over his bust. Naturally, everything was revealed, including his male organs.
Joe was given a white cotton cover-up, some sandals, and a gold chain was locked around his neck. "Sorry about the sandals Joe, but they're all I can find for the beach. Don't try to remove that chain, it's a locating device in case you get lost. Don't even think about trying to run away. Dr. van Damme owns the whole island, there's nothing else close, and no way off it . Parts of the island can be very dangerous, and you can't go very far or very fast with your feet."
Joe was turned over to Betsy who took him to a lovely secluded beach, put lotion and sunscreen on him, and saw to it that he tanned properly.
After several days of this, Joe looked like a bronze goddess.
Joe considered his dressing as a woman. It didn't seem to bother him at all any more. In fact, as he would admit only to himself, he got a kick out of it. While his physical development had been, for the most part, gradual allowing him to acclimate himself to the changes in his body, he had been abruptly thrown into the world of women's fashion which was totally alien to him.
Some of it took some getting used to, especially bras and hosiery. If he wasn't at the beach or sleeping, Joe was wearing a bra and either stockings or panty-hose. Joe hadn't as yet been able to accept as normal, the wearing of stockings. He was mesmerized by the appearance of his shapely legs in shimmering nylon. Not only that, but whenever he wore hose, which was most of the time, the feeling of his hairless legs in their delightful embrace drove him to distraction. Added to which, were the exquisite sensations he received as the delicate fabrics of his apparel massaged his legs through his ultra- sheer hosiery.
Joe had always thought that a bra was a bra, not knowing of the vast assortment available to women for different purposes; bandeaus, underwires, long-lines, front-hook, back-hook, natural cup, strapless, and more. Joe was learning quickly though; he wore them all. The one bra that Joe just couldn't get comfortable in was the demi-bra, this infernal design just held his jugs out but didn't cover the nipples at all. Five minutes in a demi-bra under a slip, blouse, or dress and Joe's nipples would be rock hard and his cock ready to pop.
Joe had gone through a hard enough time getting accustomed to having tits, but now he was kept constantly aware of their presence on his chest by the firm pressure of the well-stuffed brassieres he wore. It had become unnerving to go without one, as he did now.
One of Joe's questions had been answered for him as, piece by piece, he was dressed through the contents of his new wardrobe. Yes, everything they gave him to wear fit just like his first outfits did. Every single bit of clothing was tight, sheer, revealing, and sensuous; designed to put on display the feminine qualities which Joe now possessed in abundance.
There wasn't anything that could even be considered normal day wear. Not only that, but lately Monica and Betsy had been treating him like a mannequin, entertaining themselves by dressing him in whatever fashions caught their fancy.
Take this morning for instance; Joe was very self-conscious, knowing he was dressed inappropriately for breakfast, let alone cafeteria dining, but this was how Monica had bedecked him this morning. He had been poured into a strapless, long, black velvet, evening gown. Having been given no bra, his enormous breasts jiggled with every step, seeming as if they would leap out of the gown's embrace at any moment. Black satin pumps, along with shapely legs and thighs clad in filmy black panty-hose, revealed themselves, snaking out through excessively high slits in his skirt. Joe's hair had been brushed out straight and styled so that it fanned out over his back, covering his shoulders like a yellow cape. Long elaborate rhinestone earrings dangled from his ears matching the sparkling necklace and bracelets that he wore. As Joe ate his low-fat cottage cheese, he thought, "I should be in a whiskey advertisement."
Joe found this funny for some reason. Giggling, he spilled some cottage cheese onto the bare top of his breast. He tried to wipe it up discreetly, but every male eye in the room was glued to him, Dr. van Damme's instructions notwithstanding.
Monica entered Joe's room with her gear and looked at the sleeping man. Lifting the satin coverlet from his body, she paused to watch the rise and fall of his breasts under his satin and lace negligee as he breathed. The drug in his dinner had worked well. Continuing with her task, Monica pulled the hem of his negligee up over his hips. The only natural hair left on his body was a triangle of silky pubic hair. Monica lathered it up and began shaving it off.
Joe woke up muddled the next morning and tried to get up.
"Joe, get back in bed," said Monica. "And lie on your stomach."
Joe did as directed, but wasn't very comfortable; his breasts didn't make very good pillows. Monica flipped Joe's negligee up to reveal the soft globes of his ass cheeks. Placing her hand in the small of his back to hold him still, she injected the contents of a needle into one. Joe felt a sting as the needle slipped into his right buttock. "What's that for?" he asked Monica.
"Don't worry about it. Just turn over and lie back."
Monica left the room. When she returned, with two attendants pushing a gurney, Joe was out like a light. She watched the gorgeous man as the negligee was striped from his lush body, which was then transferred to the gurney. Joe was wheeled out of his room, and into a new life.
Joe was dreaming. He was chasing a pretty blonde girl. She was a knockout and he wanted her. He wanted her so badly that his balls itched, and his cock was so hard it hurt. Then it dawned on him; the girl he was chasing was himself, as he looked now.
Joe woke up. He was very dizzy, but able to comprehend that he was in his room. He didn't notice the lack of sensation below his waist. Dr. van Damme, Monica, and another doctor were at his bedside. Joe giggled. "Hi guys. What's going on."
The doctor shot a needle into the IV drip in Joe's arm. Joe started to fade. "Hey Monica, you're looking great. Say my balls ache, would you rub them for me?" Then he was gone.
Monica looked at the doctor curiously. "How could he?"
The Doctor answered her. "The same way some amputees get cramps in the calves of legs that aren't there anymore."
Joe gradually returned to consciousness. Trying to check himself out, he discovered his restraints. "What has that crazy bitch done to me now?" he thought.
What was there left to do to him? "No. Monica said the Doctor wouldn't do that," he recalled.
Dr. van Damme, the surgeon, and Monica entered his room, alerted to his awakening by the monitors. "Don't try to move Joe," said Dr. van Damme. "You've been given a spinal block and can't feel below the waist. You might hurt something by moving around with no sensation."
"So what bunch of suffering human beings am I helping today?" Joe asked her cynically.
"I'm happy to tell you Joe, that you represent new hope for thousands of transsexuals."
"Well, since you asked. Many men aren't men at all, but rather a woman's psyche in a man's body. Their only possibility of happiness is sex reassignment surgery; what you'd call it a sex change. The problem is that the state of the art of surgery today results in more mutilation than change. The post-operative transsexual is usually left with a pathetic imitation of a vagina. I'm happy to tell you that the surgical procedure we have developed, and tested on you, was totally successful in the construction of fully functional female sex organs."
Joe was shrieking and in shock.
After several minutes he looked up, still wailing. "But Monica, you said ... "
"I told you that you could keep your precious little balls you foolish boy, and I didn't lie to you."
Monica held up a mirror so Joe could see his face. Brushing his hair back from his ears she pointed at two diminutive gold globes, one of which adorned each earlobe.
Joe sobbed in his pillow.
Later on, having cried himself out, the giddy man addressed Dr. van Damme. "So you did it. You've changed me into a woman."
"Not really Joe. Let's examine your situation. You have the beauty, the figure, and now even the secondary sex characteristics of a woman. You may, over time, even acquire the needs and desires of a woman, but you are and shall always be a man since you lack what truly makes a woman female; a womb and ovaries. However, you also lack what makes a man male; a penis and testicles. Now a woman is the equal of a man, but since you are something less than a man, it follows that you must be less than a woman. Don't you ever forget that you are an imitation, a plaything created in retribution for the way you lived your life. You're gorgeous, you're sexy, but basically Joe, you're only a eunuch." On that note she left with the surgeon.
In the hall outside, the surgeon asked her. "Why were you so severe with him? He's been through a lot. His vagina cannot be distinguished from that of a genetic female and I did a superb job on the plumbing. Why any gynecologist who examined him would testify in court that he is a woman who has suffered from cancer and been given a hysterectomy ."
Dr. van Damme answered him. "Doctor there's more going on here than meets the eye. Part of what we are doing to Joe is punishing him. Dave Weinstein's earlier experiments have shown us that a man who is feminized unwillingly can eventually find refuge in his femininity. Dave tells me that this approach we're using on Joe will establish in him a streak of rebellion which will prevent that from occurring. He will cling to the fact that he is a man, even though he could never convince anyone of that fact."
They walked on.
Later, in his bed, Joe thought to himself. "They may give me a woman's body, but I'm still Joe Watson. My body may betray me, but my mind won't. I will not let it. I'm Joe Watson and I'm a man, and no matter what they do to me, I'll always remember that in my brain, where it counts. They'll never conquer my spirit."
Joe lay in his bed. He had lost count of the days and weeks as he watched the world go by through the fog of drugs and, after the spinal block had worn off, pain.
With the passage of time, his body recuperated and this morning the doctor had removed the last bandages shielding his operation, pronounced him fully healed, and extracted the catheter. It felt very peculiar to Joe, to have his insides probed and scrutinized like that.
Joe refused to look at himself, and tried to ignore his metamorphosis. Then the inevitable happened; he had to go to the bathroom. He tried to ignore his bladder, but couldn't for long. Reluctantly, he got out of bed, thankful for the long satin nightgown, which covered him from neck to ankles.
In the bathroom, Joe frowned at the toilet. "I guess I'd better get used to this."
Raising the back of his gown, Joe lowered his abundant ass onto the seat. "At least those muscles haven't changed," Joe thought as he urinated. Joe enjoyed the relief pissing brought and when he was done stood up. letting his gown fall only to feel wetness on his thighs as urine ran down them.
Joe gathered up his gown and sat down again. He'd forgotten that girls had to wipe. Even though he wasn't a girl, he still pissed like one and had to copy their hygienic techniques. He bunched up some toilet paper and, looking away, stuck his hand down and dabbed. When he was satisfied that he was dry, he got up and returned to bed.
Outside his room, Dave Weinstein spoke to Monica.
"I am certain that Joe is depressed, resentful, and hostile over the removal of his genitals. I think we should give him some Valium, then why don't you get him dressed as we discussed and see if we can get his transvestite programming to take control of his emotions.
Monica entered the room.
"Up and at 'em Joe."
Joe just glared at her.
"Joseph Watson! You get out of that bed right now and take this medicine, before I call Dr. van Damme and have you punished."
Joe complied, and after he had swallowed the Valium, Monica sat him down and went to work on his hair to kill time until the medication calmed him. Monica rolled Joe's hair up in curlers and put lotion on it to keep the curls in. When she was done, Monica pulled Joe's gown off. He instinctively brought his hands up over his breasts. Monica snickered at this. "Oh come on Joe. There's no secrets between friends, right? Here hold these."
Joe held up what looked like a pair of stockings, but they were different. Holding them up, he recognized them as fishnet hose. He hadn't seen them on a woman in years, except in some of his men's magazines. Part of his mind considered what he would look like in them. Not counting on Joe's cooperation, Monica put a garter belt around his waist and hooked it in back. After sitting him down, she rapidly rolled the hose up each leg. Standing Joe up, Monica hooked up the hose and tightened the suspenders. She noticed that he wouldn't look down. Sitting him down again, Monica slipped shoes on his feet; red patent leather open-toed sandals with ankle straps and five inch heels. She noticed how his red toenails peeked out through the mesh of his stockings. "Sexy," she thought as she buckled the straps tight.
Monica brought out a pair of French-cut black satin and lace panties. She put them on over Joe's shoes then, standing him up, pulled them slowly up his legs. Joe perceived a new sensation as Monica pulled the panties up over his hips, a slight pressure on his genital area that he 'd never experienced before.
All of a sudden Joe wanted to see what he looked like. He walked over to the mirror. "Boy don't my legs look great?" Joe asked himself.
Joe still resented the loss of his cock and balls, but the drug had taken effect and besides, part of him liked the fact that his panties fit properly now; with no protrusion or bulges from his cock or balls. Joe could see his pubic hair, which had regrown, through the lace, which ended at a satin panel which was flush against his crotch. Beneath the taut material Joe could see the outline of his new vulva. The transvestite in him was elated. Isn't this the ultimate in cross- dressing? Joe felt his nipples tingle.
"Where's my bra?" he asked Monica.
"We're going to try something different today. Just wait." Monica had Joe step into a skirt and she worked it up over his hips. It was a black kidskin miniskirt and was it ever tight. Not knowing that the clothes were designed to fit like that, Joe thought. "I've got to lose some weight."
Joe looked at his profile. No outline of his cock showed, just the feminine swell of his pelvis under the skirt. Monica held up a strip of red leather and wrapped it around Joe's chest. "What's that?" he asked.
"It's a bustier. Don't worry it will support you."
Monica pulled it together and fastened it. Joe's breasts were tightly confined in its firm grip and he could tell that it would support them, but looking down he discovered that it sure as hell didn't cover them. It just squashed his breasts together and offered them up for public inspection.
Monica wrapped a white patent leather belt around his waist and gave him a matching purse. Taking an atomizer, she sprayed Joe with perfume; behind his knees, between his breasts, on his neck and shoulders. Joe was enveloped in an intoxicating fragrance. Monica put the bottle in his bag, then removed the curlers from his hair. Lifting Joe's golden curls, she placed a fine gold chain around his neck. Attached to it was a locket which settled in his cleavage. Joe picked it out. "I wonder what this is?" he thought.
Joe found a tiny latch and managed to open it. Inside was a picture of himself; before any of the changes. Joe just stared at it, surprised that he wasn't annoyed at this final humiliation. The drug had kicked in Joe was not in control of his emotions. Rather than anger or hate, some other passion built."I wasn't a bad looking hunk," thought Joe as Monica brushed out his hair.
Joe didn't know it but he was getting turned on by his own picture. His nipples stiffened and then he felt a well-known commotion in his crotch. He was getting a hard on."Is it possible?" Joe wondered. "Maybe my cock isn't gone, just hidden."
Joe resolved to check it out at the first opportunity, as he shut the locket and returned it to the valley between his boobs. Monica put some dangling gold earrings in his multiple-pierced ears and gave him a gold link bracelet and a huge aquamarine ring. Slipping the ring on his right ring-finger, Monica told him, "Remember this Joe, aquamarine is your new birth-stone."
"What do you mean?"
"Well you're a new man, so to speak, so we'll use the day you were made to celebrate your birthday from now on."
Joe followed Monica, finding it was much easier to walk without his balls being pinched all the time. He liked the feel of leather on his skin, the way his hair bounced when he walked and brushed against his shoulders and back, and especially he liked the perfume he wore. Joe knew he must look pretty sexy and he felt sexy, but it never occurred to him, that he looked for all the world, like a very beautiful, very high-priced call girl. As he sashayed down the hall; breasts bouncing and hips and ass swaying with every mincing step he took.
Joe ate breakfast with Monica and, having nothing to do, followed her around all morning. As time wore on, Joe became more accustomed to the clothes he wore, and at ease with his new appearance. He was unaware that every man who laid eyes on him lusted after him.
When Joe had followed Monica into her office and taken a seat, she realized what had been bothering her about him. Except when his body and dress required that he move otherwise, Joe still sat and, in some situations, moved like a man. Right now he sat with his legs apart. Monica could see his garters at the tops of his stockings and glancing up, she could make out his vagina in it's satin embrace.
"He's got learn not to flash that pussy of his around so conspicuously." She thought. "Oh well, I'll tell Dr. van Damme and she can put Mrs. Maxwell on it."
Later, Monica took Joe to lunch where he was given a tuna salad, despite his preference for roast beef. After they had eaten, Monica told him. "I always take a little nap after lunch. Why don't you try it?"
"Maybe I will. I still feel very worn out."
Monica and the attendants found him on the bed with a fashion magazine open in his lap; the hypnotic in the iced tea had worked to perfection. Joe was wheeled to the operating theater where his belt, bustier, skirt, and panties were removed. After his inert form was laid out on a table, his legs were spread apart, and his feet placed in stirrups as if for a pelvic exam.
The plastic surgeon who had created Joe's vagina lectured to the audience, while a television camera zoomed in for close-ups, which in turn, were relayed to monitors throughout the room. "There were two very significant improvements included in the many innovations introduced with this subject's procedure. First, I was able to preserve the penile nerves intact and bundle them together. Secondly, we removed some of the mucous membrane from a section of the subject's large intestine. This was cultured, a mutation was induced, and it was then used as the lining for the vaginal wall."
"The results versus conventional sex reassignment surgery are vastly superior; the penile nerves retain full tactile sensation with the ability to provide pleasure when touched, just as the penis would. There is no danger of the vagina closing up, so we can do away with the need to keep a form inserted. The lining, when irritated, secretes a fluid, sort of like a runny noses, not very different from a female's natural lubricant. nose."
The doctor pointed out the highlights for the television camera as he went on. "Here we have the mons veneris. Here the labia majora or outer vaginal lips, constructed from the scrotum and inside the labia minora. This is the clitoris, formed from the foreskin where the penile nerves were. It functions not very differently from the way the subject's penis did; when aroused, it engorges with blood, although the increase in size is minimal, and when stimulated can produce the muscular contractions known as orgasm. The labia minora, or inner vaginal lips, which were created from the leftover penile tissue and mucous membrane."
The crowd murmured it's approval. All of the assembled doctors admitted it was near impossible to tell Joe's man-made vagina from the real thing.
Dave Weinstein took the stage as various devices were attached to Joe's body; rubber molds with wires running out were put over his breasts, the projection box was lowered over his head, a shape resembling a large cock with a metal ring around it was carefully inserted into his vagina, then a thin probe was forced into his anus.
Dave spoke. "You will recall Dr. Locke said that the subject's vagina will secrete a fluid when irritated. What I hope to accomplish is to trick the subject's mind into confusing sexual arousal with vaginal irritation, much as Dr. Pavlov tricked his dogs."
Joe was brought up to a trance state. The device in his vagina vibrated, irritating the lining. When the fluid was secreted it completed an electrical circuit in the device and a green light lit on the control console. "Excellent," said Dave. "Now we hot-wire our little beauty's neural network for pleasure."
The cups over Joe's breasts were shaking and the plug in his vagina vibrated, along with the probe up his ass. Inside the box, all the images programmed into Joe's pretty head to be sexually stimulating were flashed before him. The pleasure center in his mind was excited by induction to the metal wires still in his skull.
This went on for some time, and at the end, tiny electrical shocks were pulsed through Joe's breasts, vagina, and ass. Then the plug was removed from Joe's vagina and dried completely.
After a short wait, Dave Weinstein inserted a tiny metal probe into Joe's vagina and reset the light to red. "And now the moment of truth."
The psychologist flicked a switch. Inside the box, images of virile young men, naked with large erect cocks, were projected into Joe's subconscious. Dave Weinstein speculated silently. "Would the brain recall it's programming and find the pictures erotic? Would the conditioning work?"
The crowd waited expectantly.
Dave started to worry.
Then the green light flashed on.
It worked. Joe was lubricating himself in response to sexual stimulation. The audience roared it's approval. Dave Weinstein looked down at Joe. The transfigured man was unconsciously undulating his pelvis, the way a highly aroused woman would do.
Joe was awakened by Monica shaking him. "Come on sleepy head. Wake up. It's dinner time, you slept all afternoon."
Joe remembered distinctly the graphic visions he had dreamed. He didn't want to talk, or even think, about them. Noticing that his mini-skirt had risen up over his thighs, Joe tugged it down as he got up on his high-heeled feet. Joe discovered that he was hungry, but was surprised to find himself still tired. "Well they say too much sleep is the same as not enough," he recalled, and thought no more about it.
The two lovelies went to dinner, after Joe paused to refresh his perfume. He loved the scent. Monica laughed silently. "Boy, if only he knew."
The boys in the lab had concocted the stuff and called it "Eau d' Joe." It had been formulated with the sole objective of attracting men. It contained all the scents that the masculine psyche found sexy and alluring on a woman, and was liberally laced with female pheromones, which not only served to inflame Joe's remaining masculine passions, but also those of any male who might be within range of the compelling fragrance.
After dinner, Monica took Joe to the island's theater, where they watched a movie. Joe experienced weird emotions running through his body. He wrote them off as being induced by the well-made thriller. It never dawned on him, that those vivid sensations coincided with the appearance of the movie's handsome star on the screen.
On the way back, Monica picked up a bottle of wine. When they got to Joe's room, she said. "Joe, go in and take a shower and get ready for bed. I'll get a corkscrew and some glasses."
Joe showered, avoiding any contact with his remodeled gender. His earlier interest had worn off, and he didn't want to deal with it now. Joe dried and put on his most attractive negligee of shimmering pink satin and lace. He loved both the way it felt, and the way it displayed his magnificent body.
Monica returned. She had changed into a blue satin and lace teddy covered by a matching short gown. She opened the wine and poured to glasses handing one to Joe.
"So tell me Joe. How did you like the first day with your new body?"
The abruptness of Monica's question caught Joe off-guard.
Joe and Monica weren't the only ones enjoying a sip of the grape. In her office, Dr. van Damme and Dave Weinstein savored a rare tipple as they watched the unfolding scene.
"Here's where Monica earns her pay," said Dave.
After a minute, Joe started crying. "Oh Monica. I don't know. Part of me likes it; looking so sexy and wearing such fantastic clothes. But inside I'm still a man. It hurts so much; every minute that I'm in this body. It's so degrading to know that I'll never escape from this masquerade. What can I do." By this time he was was weeping.
"Don't cry Joe." Monica lifted up his chin and gently kissed him on the lips."When you can't change something, accept it, and try and make the most of it."
Monica hugged Joe until his tears subsided, then lifted the sniffling man up and carried him to the bed. Joe hadn't known the big girl's strength. Monica got into bed with Joe and kissed him passionately, while easing the straps of his negligee over his shoulders, uncovering his well-developed breasts. Monica tenderly fondled each in turn, feeling his nipples harden.
Monica gave Joe a long-lingering kiss, examining every corner of his mouth with her tongue. She then turned her attention to his breasts, licking and sucking first one then the other, until both were stiff with desire. Joe didn't know what to make of this, but he knew that he liked it. He felt very hot between his legs and the sensation that he was getting a hard-on was back. Joe moaned with pleasure when Monica placed her hands under his hips and trailed her tongue down across his belly to find the lips of his vagina moist and enlarged with his passion.
Monica flicked her tongue over Joe's vulva then teasingly poked it back and forth between the lips. Joe spread his legs even wider as Monica took her hands out from under him, using her fingers to gently stretch his cunt wider. With her tongue, Monica found Joe's clit, which had been fashioned from the sensitive tissue of his cock and contained the penile nerves. Seeming to recall it's previous function, it swelled, trying to become erect. Monica took it in her mouth and sucked and nibbled on it with her teeth.
Delirious with pleasure, Joe took his hands with their long red nails and grabbed his breasts. Taking a nipple between each thumb and fore-finger, he pinched them, sending even more waves of pleasure through his body. He tried to grind his crotch against Monica's face but she pulled away. Joe wished she'd continue eating his pussy, but instead Monica kissed Joe on the mouth again. "Being a girl can be enjoyable Joe."
When they broke for air, Monica whispered. "Joe dear. I have a surprise for you. Rising on the bed she undid the belt of her gown. Reaching down she unsnapped the crotch of her teddy and pulled it up. Out popped an erect cock. Monica was a man!
Joe didn't know what to think of this, he was both frightened and fascinated by it. "Monica. What? ... I don't know ... "
Pushing Joe back on the bed Monica said, "There, there Joe. I promise I'll be gentle with you."
Joe wasn't aware of it, but his subliminal programming had pre-disposed his masculine mind to accept the orientation of a heterosexual female and Monica had been chosen to be the agent of Joe's introduction to this lifestyle. Since his mind was still male and he really lusted after the pretty blonde, her apparent femininity would overcome any objections his masculine ego might raise.
Giving up, Joe decided to go with the flow, and he laid back and relaxed, as Monica resumed licking his hot pussy. After a short interval, Joe was writhing in pleasure again. Positioning herself between Joe's legs, Monica rubbed the head of her cock against Joe's cunt.
Joe was too far gone to care what happened now. Monica inserted her shaft slightly between the lips of Joe's pussy, letting his new cunt get used to penetration for the first time. When she felt the time was right, Monica rammed the entire length of her large cock into Joe. At this Joe took notice; letting go of his breasts and opening his eyes to look at Monica. It dawned on him with a flash.
HE WAS BEING FUCKED.
LIKE A GIRL.
AND HE LOVED IT!
Monica began a slow piston-like movement. Joe pulled her close to him, put his legs up over her hips, and crossed his ankles. Joe was amazed at the sensations he felt as Monica's prick penetrated deep inside him. He could feel every inch as it slid in and out of his hot wet cunt. It was so intense, so exciting. He was panting now, and making faint unintentional moaning sounds. Joe could feel Monica's cock swell and his body was racked by spasms, accompanied by louder moans as he experienced his first female orgasm,just as the she-male commenced pumping her load of cum into him.
The die was cast. Joe now had a female element in his mind that his will could not control. Never would he turn away from a session with a stiff prick. Joe collapsed into a limp bundle and as Monica withdrew her spent cock, he curled up; tired and worn out. "Just like a man." Thought Monica. "After sex, all they want to do is roll over and go to sleep. Well he'll learn a hard lesson shortly."
Joe was startled out of his daze by the awareness that Monica's cock was pressing against his asshole. He clenched it tight, but Monica pushed harder and the shaft, still lubricated with his pussy juice, was finally forced past his sphincter and driven into his lovely behind. Joe felt himself become aroused again, as the she- male's balls slapped against his butt. It was very unconventional, but for some reason he desired it.
Powerless as the stimulation overcame his reason, Joe put one hand between his legs and played with his pussy. Finally, Joe orgasmed again, then Monica did and withdrew her cock from his ass.
Dr. van Damme raised her glass in a toast. "To the new Joseph Watson. I gave him the body of an exaggeratedly voluptuous woman, while you provided the appetites and impulses of a horny slut."
They sipped their champagne.
"Not only that," said Dave. "But Joe cannot fathom what's going on with his body, he cannot exert any conscious control over it's conditioned behavior. Joe definitely won't want to be involved all the proceedings that he will be, but as far as his body is concerned, his conscious mind is a passive spectator, no matter how degrading a performance it puts on. Joe is trapped in an endless loop; his mind rebels while his body compels.
The Guinea Pig copyright 1996 by Ruth White.
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