Stepton High, Conclusion

The next morning, Arnie dressed in the clothes his stepmother had laid out for him--short-sleeved satin blouse in pale green; matching satin skirt cut like a skater's circle; all over the sexiest of white lacy lingerie: bra, panties, garter belt and lacy white stockings. His shoes were the white high-heeled Mary-Janes. He immediately noticed that the extremely short skirt revealed his stocking tops, garters and panties with practically every move. What's more, the implant's programming--which was rapidly replacing even his internal thoughts--meant that the combination of the smooth satin and the humiliation of his constant exposure left him with a pulsating cock.

As he buckled his shoes, his father/maid, Ronnie, minced into the room in his satin uniform. "I have been requested to aid you in your makeup and hairstyling, Annie," the transformed servant told him. Arnie/Annie sat quietly at the vanity as Ronnie applied cosmetics to his face and combed out his pageboy. The final touch was a pale green satin bow tied into his coppery hair.

Ronnie escorted him downstairs to greet his stepmother. "Mistress Diane, here is Annie," she announced.

Diane clapped her hands when she saw her creation. "Splendid!" she cried. "I'm sure you'll be the hit of the 1990 freshwoman class at Stepton High--and you're certain to be picked by the top junior."

A look of puzzlement passed over Arnie's face--a look that wasn't missed by Diane. "Oh, don't worry your pretty little head, Annie: You'll find out all about it at assembly this morning."

One hour later, Annie sat in an auditorium at Stepton High with about 50 other transformed boys. Most of the others had, he learned, been living as girls since the day they were born, others had first been made into boy-girls when their parents moved to Stepton. A stern but beautiful woman, Mistress Joanna, the Dean of Boy-Girls, spoke to them from the auditorium stage.

"Ladies, you all know your place within Stepton society. Our task, here at Stepton High, is to train you for your individual niche in that world. Many of you have had your future places chosen for you by your mothers and guardians. Our classes in modeling, home economics and, yes, sex education, will prepare you for the duties they have chosen. Other women have left your proper training to us...we will discover your natural inclinations and train you for the positions that best suit your imposed personalities.

"To aid the faculty, the upper class women often participate in training, frequently choosing a particular boy-girl to become a special project. Along those lines, it has become traditional for the five top female scholars in the junior class to have their pick of the incoming freshwoman class boy-girls to train for the next two years--and often far beyond that time."

At that, five young women strode on stage. Like their mothers, the 16-year-olds of Stepton were the image of confident female power. Three of the four wore leather of one kind or another. A fourth was in spandex. The fifth, surprisingly, wore the lace that normally designated a feminized male.

But no one would ever mistake Destiny McGiver for one of the submissive playthings of Stepton. Despite the ladylike crispness of her lace-bestowed blouse and calf-length satin skirt, her face was the picture of determination. She wore a white velvet choker with a black cameo at her throat. The white patent-leather boots showing below her hem had six-inch stiletto heels...and what looked like real spurs. She carried a white riding crop hanging from her left wrist by its thong.

Mistress Joanna introduced each of the prominent juniors, indicating that, as top in her class, Destiny was to have first choice of the available freshwoman boy-girls. About half the class were asked to stand--those whose future had not been determined by their mothers--Annie among them.

Destiny walked up the aisle, eyeing each of the boy-girls carefully. She passed Annie and inwardly he breathed a sigh of relief. He was not sure he was ready for the rigors of individualized training. But then he felt a tap at his shoulder from behind. "What's your name, Red?" Destiny asked. "I don't think I've seen you before."

"Annie Howard, Mistress," Annie responded, in the best female voice her programming could create. "I've just moved into town."

"Really? Should be interesting training a newcomer," Destiny replied. "And I've always like redheads. You'll do." She turned to the stage. "Joanna--I claim Annie Howard as mine!"

Thirty minutes later, Annie was on her knees in the "training room," a converted gymnasium, awaiting the arrival of her new school mistress, Destiny McGiver. With her were the other four boy-girls chosen by the top women of the junior class for training. Two places to Annie's left was Connie, once Conrad. She was dressed in classic schoolgirl attire: white man-tailored blouse with middy bow, red-and-green plaid kilt, with an oversized pin in the front, white ankle socks and loafers. The kilt, naturally, was short, revealing Connie's smoothly shaven legs to mid-thigh.

Between Connie and Annie was Jessica, formerly Josh. Unlike most of the other boy-girls in the freshwoman class, Jessica's mother had begun her on a more complete transformation program, before turning the details over to the school. Jessica had been on female hormones since sixth grade...and over the summer between junior high and high school she had undergone breast enhancement surgery. Jessica now had a 35C bosom, a fact that was not hidden by the skin-tight white spandex top that clung to her every doctor-given curve. Below she wore equally tight black jeans with zippers at the ankle. Her shoes were black patent pumps with six-inch heels.

To Annie's immediate right was Danielle. Danielle's mother, like Diane, had heard of Stepton through the grapevine and decided it was just the right place for her family. Danielle looked like a model...and with good reason. She had spent her pre-teen years modeling slightly kinky little girls' clothing at a boutique owned by Miss Michelle, one of Stepton's founders. But now that she had gotten older, Sharon, her mother, had decided it was time for her to get some real training.

The strangest of the five new trainees was undoubtedly Louisa. She was dressed as no teenage girl in any other town might be for a schoolday. Louisa wore a tightly laced black corset that left her still flat, male-like bosom exposed, its slight globes powdered and its nipples rouged for effect. Matching panties encased her obviously engorged cock, while black seamed stockings were held up by the corset's six straining garters. Her shoes were truly strange: The heels were so high (Annie would swear they measured eight inches) that her feet were forced into a literal tip-toe position. Her hands were bound behind her back and a red ball-gag was forced between her lips.

Seeing Annie's shocked look, Danielle explained. "Louisa's mom is Gretchen...she's really the town bitch. She and her dad, Marsha, aren't under the control of the implants like the rest of us. Gretchen uses bondage and discipline to keep them in line and feminized. I don't think I've ever seen Louisa in anything more than a corset."

Danielle quickly stopped speaking as the doors swung open and Destiny and her four compatriots strode in. The others were named Samantha, June, Justine and Hazel. Their leather outfits gleamed as they each approached one of the chosen freshwomen.

"Well, Red," Destiny began, "I hope you're ready for a tough first year of high school. See--I've got it in my head that it's just too easy to dominate you boy/girls with your implants. I need a challenge."

She stopped a moment as it seemed Annie's face brightened. "No, that doesn't mean you won't be my slave, honey. But I'm gonna fix you up good and proper as a cock-tease. I think it might be fun to have a sexy little thing working for me to bring some new male blood into Stepton--some male blood I can dominate and feminize without Carla's little electronic thingies...at least until I'm good and ready to use them."

Annie looked at her quizzically. "You still don't get it, do you, Red? You're going to be my bait," Destiny explained. "I'm going to dress and train you to be the biggest little tease in all suburbia...then you and I will go to some school dances in the surrounding towns and pick a likely candidate for you to work on. All the boys in Markham and Sutterville have heard the 'legends' of the unapproachable beauties of Stepton--now they'll get to meet one face-to-face. It'll be a meeting they'll never forget!"

Deep beneath the implant-imposed calm, Arnie shuddered. It was one thing to be subjected to his feminized fate by his stepmother--but to become the lure for other boys to share his humiliation? That was truly bizarre.

Destiny produced a leather leash and belt, then buckled them around Annie's waist. "Okay, come with me," she said, tugging the cross-dressed boy to his feet. "First, we have to get your mom's permission for my little scheme--then it's time to schedule some of the changes I have in mind for you."

She walked confidently from the room, Annie mincing behind at the end of the leash.

Hours later, Annie's step-mother Diane had agreed to Destiny's plan, and Annie was in the dressing rooms of the swankest boutique in Stepton. The clerks brought in dozens of the most beautiful dresses--cocktail frocks, evening gowns, designer suits--for her to try on.

Destiny sat on a little settee, approving or disapproving each of the choices. By the end of the afternoon, Annie's wardrobe had been expanded by some 15 expensive outfits.

"All right, Red--here's the plan," she announced to Annie as they drove back to Diane's home. "Saturday night there's a big college dance in Markham. You and I are going to be there--dressed to kill. I want you to pick out the likeliest candidate for domination and transformation and get him to come back here to Stepton with you. I'm going to do the same. Then the fun will begin." Destiny unhooked Annie's seatbelt and let her out of the car. "I'll meet you here Saturday night, Red."

Saturday evening seemed to come all too fast for Annie. What am I going to do? Arnie thought from deep within the recesses of his feminized mind. She's going to want me to make time with one of those college guys--and then help control him the way they control all the men in this town!

Destiny arrived at 6:00 and was escorted to Annie's room by Ronnie. She carried a garment bag with her own dress in it.

"This is a formal affair, Red--so we're going all the way," she told the transformed boy. "Strip out of those teenage clothes and we'll start with your face."

Though deeply embarrassed by the demand, the implant's programming gave Annie no choice. She took off all her outer clothing--revealing the lacy red bra and panty set beneath--and sat at her vanity. With Ronnie's aid, Destiny soon had the young boy-girl's face looking luxuriously exotic and elegant. Her eyes were enhanced with several shades of green eyeshadow as well as the longest, thickest false lashes Annie had ever seen. The weight of them seemed to pull her eyelids to half-mast, giving her a heavy-lidded, bedroom-eye look. The blush used made her cheekbones look high and well-defined, while the wet red lipstick turned her lips into "kiss me, fuck me" signals.

And then there was the dress: It was white satin with a halter neck, leaving her back bare to the waist. It clung to every one of Annie's artificial curves, its hobble skirt outlining the sensuous curve of her nyloned legs. Together with the six-inch heels on her satin pumps, it shortened her stride to a mincing five inches, causing her ass to wiggle most provocatively.

Destiny was dressed more comfortably, but equally as sexy. Her gown was black leather, cut in a strapless bustier style, with a short jacket over it all. The straight skirt hung to her ankles, with a slit up the left side revealing her black-hosed legs perched on six-inch patent-leather pumps.

Destiny reached into her purse and produced a silver collar and locked it around Annie's throat. "OK Red," she announced. "Let's go trap some college boys!"

One hour later, Annie was on the floor of the gym at Markham College, her body pressed close against that of Randall Shuster, a tall, slender, sandy-haired freshman. Destiny had helped her slave pick out the boy as a likely candidate--he seemed shy, he was alone, and his face and figure would lend themselves to transformation.

Destiny herself was busy leading on another Markham freshman, Grant Collins. The dark-haired young man was a touch on the fleshy side, the dominatrix observed, but all that flab might turn into an impressive bosom if treated properly, she thought.

Both Destiny and Annie played up to their conquests, promising greater joys to come, if they would just accompany the girls back to Stepton. Why am I doing this? Arnie struggled with Destiny's commands, deep inside Annie's mind. She's just going to make them like me--her little feminized pets! Eventually, neither Randall nor Grant could resist. The four of them piled into Destiny's car and headed for Stepton.

"You know, we've heard a lot about Stepton ever since we got to Markham," Randall told Annie. "The girls there are all supposed to be lookers--and you two certainly live up to that description--but they're also supposed to be sort of cold and aloof."

"Don't believe everything you hear, Randall," Annie responded. She reached out and stroked his burgeoning cock through his trousers. The slender boy moaned softly, put his arm around her shoulders and drew her to him, for a soft but demanding kiss. Oh, jeez! I'm kissing a guy--what next?

Destiny, in the driver's seat, had unbuttoned Grant's shirt and was playing with his nipples. Then she let her hand stray down to his crotch. His cock was rock hard. "Just as I thought," she mused. "This one is a prime candidate for a breast fixation--his own breasts!"

The short drive drew to a close outside Destiny's house. Her mother had promised to leave the place deserted so that her well-trained daughter could spring her trap. While Annie helped the two unknowing victims settle in in the playroom, Destiny fixed drinks. She carefully offered them to Randall and Grant--who very quickly dropped off to sleep.

"Why did you drug them?" Annie asked a little sheepishly. "I thought you wanted to control them without help?"

"And I will, Red--don't you worry," Destiny responded. "I just didn't want them fighting me the whole time I got them dressed appropriately. There's a whole wardrobe of girl's clothes over in the closet. Start pulling stuff out while I get these two undressed."

The closet indeed held a veritable cornucopia of feminine finery--everything from formal wear to short- shorts; from dominatrix outfits to little-girl party dresses--all made in sizes to fit grown men. Annie guessed at Randall and Grant's sizes and pulled out one of everything that might fit.

Meanwhile, Destiny had stripped the two sleeping college students naked and, working quickly, had shaved their legs and chests smooth as silk.

She selected black lingerie for Randall and red for Grant: bras, panties, matching garter belts. She sleeked their legs with sheer stockings, making certain the hose were taut and smooth. Ruffled miniskirts in matching colors covered the college boys' hips (and that's about all they covered). After padding the bras with lifelike prosthetic pads, the dominant high school girl put white satin blouses on them.

As Annie submissively held a tray covered with a wide array of cosmetics, Destiny made up Randall and Grant's faces--foundation, blusher, eyeliner, mascara, shadow and luscious red lipstick. Annie fetched a pair of matching wigs, one in a sandy blonde color for Randall, while Grant's was a close match to his own brunette hair.

Working quickly, for the drug in their drinks would wear off soon, Destiny slipped red six-inch spikes on Randall's feet, black ones on Grant.

"Well, there they are, Annie--your new sisters, Randi and Grace!" Destiny exclaimed as she stepped back to examine her handiwork.

The boys' well-mascaraed eyelids began to flutter and they strained at their bonds. Randall turned to look at his buddy and registered shock at Grant's transformation. "What the hell is this?" he shouted. "What's goin' on?"

Destiny reached out and slapped him on the cheek, leaving a red impression. "Shut up, Randi, dear," she ordered.

"What's going on," she continued, "is the beginning of your enslavement to the women of Stepton. We have videotaped the entire process you have undergone since arriving here...and those tapes will be sent to Markham's local television station, unless you do exactly as I tell you."

In short order, Randi and Grace agreed to the deal. The next several hours were spent teaching the two college "girls" how to handle their heels and skirts. When Destiny was satisfied with their progress, she locked them in a spare room at the high school, to await the next day's assembly.

At 9:30 that morning, Mistress Joanna, Dean of Boy-Girls, announced that Destiny had a special surprise for the school. Destiny came on stage and called for her video to be projected on the auditorium screen. The audience gasped as they saw the two Markham college students transformed--without the aid of Stepton's usual electronic gadgetry. As the screen faded to black, a spotlight hit the left side of the stage and Annie led Grace and Randi before the assembly.

Blushing in embarrassment, the latest boy-girls of Stepton proved Destiny as the premier dominant of Stepton High!

THE END