But now that she knew, Olivia realized this was the way to really complete her protege's makeover, to turn Charity into something that Charles could never have been.
Over the next week, she began preparing new tapes, to again alter Charity's persona, in keeping with the boy-girl's own desire for fetish wear and Olivia's plans to further mold her once-boyfriend into something erotic, exotic and kinky.
*****
"Have faith, Charity!" Olivia announced, and once again the feminized young man fell into a trance, facing the TV. Olivia switched on her tape. Immediately, images of beautiful young women in leather, vinyl and latex began to appear...and Olivia saw Charity's crotch show its tell-tale bulge. Now the images shifted, as the fetishized women were joined by others, attractive young men and women in submissive postures. How wonderful to control others as you are controlled! flashed subliminally on the screen. Leather, latex and vinyl make you a dominatrix!
Now the images changed again, as they had before. The dominatrices on the screen now had Charity's face and form. You are dominant to all but your loving mistress! You long to have them serve you as you serve her! The images continued until one final message flashed. Turn to the bedroom and see your mistress--turn and see what you will soon become! Then awake!
Charity turned to the bedroom door and there posed Olivia--much changed, now the kind of fetish-clad domme Charity had spied at the party. She was all in black vinyl, her waist severely cinched to a mere 22 inches like Charity's, her breasts padded to a massive 36-D, her legs hobbled by the tightness of the skirt at her knees, all balanced on seven-inch spikes and two-inch platforms. She brandished a whip and smiled seductively.
Charity fell to her knees and kissed the patent leather of the bizarre pumps. "Make me like you, Mistress Olivia!" she cried. "I want to be the object of submissive lust!"
"Certainly, Charity love," Olivia agreed. "But you must always remember your place with me...and I have just the way to ensure it." She gestured to the TV screen. "Return to your place of learning, my dear. Have faith, Charity." Re-entranced, Charity absorbed the lessons from the second of Olivia's new productions. Images of the fetish-clad lovelies again filled the screen...but now their companions were other dommes, each armed with a dildo. The phalluses came in a variety of sizes and shapes, some vibrated, others did not. But in every case, the scene ended with the lovely's feminized ass impaled on the artificial member. The messages flashed again: You cannot be a true domme until you have experienced feminine submission! And you cannot truly know feminine submission until you have been filled!
The images changed again, so that every one of the willing submissives was Charity and every one of the dildo-weilding dommes was Olivia. Your Mistress wishes to help you become the domme you should be! Submit to her desires!
The tape ended, and Charity awoke to the image of her vinyl-clad lover brandishing a vibrating dildo before her. Without speaking, Charity turned and sank to her knees, pulling her skirt up, revealing her panty-less bottom. "Fill me, Mistress," she begged. "Make me truly feminine, so that I may be truly dominant!"
*****
The fetish-party was in full swing. Men and women of every sexual persuasion drifted and mingled. But a particularly large cluster seemed to form around a ladder set up in a corner. Both men and women, all desperate to submit to a true dominant, were drawn there.
Olivia watched from the other side of the room as her creation became the focus of attention of seemingly every potential slave in the place.
Charity's hair was curled and teased, her makeup subtly more dramatic than before. She wore a black vinyl bustier that displayed her massive tits to perfection; her legs were sealed within black vinyl pants so tight that the bulge of her sissy-cock was difficult to disguise. Her shoes were black patent pumps with seven-inch heels. She smiled lasciviously, knowing the crowd around her cared not if she were male or female, so long as she would make them her slaves.
She pointed at one young woman and then at her left shoe. The petite blonde fell to her knees and began licking and kissing the shiny leather. She pointed to a young man on the other side of the crowd and then to her right shoe, indicating the heel. He likewise dropped and took the slender stiletto in his mouth, sucking for all he was worth.
Olivia watched this for several moments and then decided her protege had had enough fun. She reached into her bag and pulled out that same vibrating dildo and flicked the switch. Somehow the sound of it carried over the noise of the party and Charity became riveted. Her eyes were caught by Olivia's and never left them, as she kicked the two submissives at her feet out of the way and wiggled her way over to her mistress.
She turned her back to Olivia and leaned over slightly, pushing her smooth, vinyl-clad ass out. Olivia rubbed the vibrator over Charity's crack and watched the boy-girl grow even more excited. Then she beckoned to the little blonde, as she reached around and freed Charity's sissy-cock from its fetish confines.
The blonde knew what she should do--as Olivia stimulated Charity from behind, the little submissive did the same from the front, as all the while Olivia murmured, "Have faith, Charity, have faith!"
THE END
Bonus attraction: Here's the new camisole, which I intend to wear under my male clothes the rest of this weekend, whenever I'm not completely dressed.
"It's incredible," Olivia answered. "I've been spending all our evenings and weekends bringing Charity in and out of trance, deepening her need to be feminized and dominated, trying out different looks and personalities.
"But you want to know the craziest thing?"
"What's that?" the salon owner said.
"I think I'm as turned on by all of this as Charity is...maybe more so," Olivia admitted. "Everytime I help Charity become a little more feminine, a little more sexy, I get even more attracted to her. This started out as revenge--but I think I'm actually creating my own ultimate sex toy!"
Sophia pondered that. "I don't see anything wrong with that, hon," she advised. "What's bothering you?"
"Nothing, really, except--"
"Except what?" Sophia pressed.
"Well, I've started to think about making even more permanent changes to her. We make love at night, with her all prettied up in a baby-doll nightie or sexy lingerie and high heels and I find I want to be able to play with her breasts!" Olivia explained.
"But she doesn't have any..."
"Exactly," Olivia said. "I'm dieing to give her some."
"I know a doctor who'd do it for you, cheap," Sophia said. "Let's just say that she's into this almost as much as you are...but you'd have to convince her that Charity wants it done, too."
"That may not be a problem," Olivia mused.
A week from that night, Olivia began her new program. She posed sexily for her personal sex machine...in a low-cut blouse, tight short skirt and heels. She knew this was the kind of outfit Charity loved to see her in.
"Charity, come sit here in front of the TV," she told her boy-girl charge. Obediently, the person once known as Charles sat beside her. "Charity, it's time for some new fun. Have faith, Charity." With that trigger phrase, Charity fell into a light trance, just right for the subliminal programming Olivia had prepared.
She pressed the remote and the TV set came alive with a new video. The beginning was a series of images of busty young women, displaying their abundant charms. Olivia observed Charity's bulging cock, just as the screen began flashing its subliminal messages: All really pretty girls have big boobs. Wouldn't you love to have a nice set of hooters?
The tape moved on to a set of images Olivia had very carefully prepared. It began with an image of Charles, then morphed into an image of Charity, bare from the waist up, then morphed again into Charity with a set of D-cup tits. Olivia reached over and took Charity's hands in her own, then placed them on the boy-girl's flat chest. "Play with your titties," she whispered in Charity's ear. And her helpless victim began to stimulate his own nipples as the tape continued.
It showed the manipulated image of Charity in a variety of cleavage-revealing outfits, always sexy, always appealing. More messages flashed into Charity's open mind: You want sexy tits, don't you? Your sissy-cock feels so good when your titties are played with.
Olivia kept the tape running most of the evening, then turned it off and invited Charity to bed. She was unsurprised when she discovered the pretty changeling lying in bed, asleep, but tweaking and tickling her nipples, her cock hard from the stimulation.
Within another week, the process had the desired results. "Olivia, darling," Charity began one afternoon, "would it be impossible for me to have real boobs?"
Olivia grinned. Even the tape's programming for Charity to always refer to her breasts by the most degrading sexual terms--"boobs, tits, hooters, jugs"--had taken hold. Once everything was in place, Charity would be completely breast-obsessed.
"Of course, it's possible," she told the delighted transvestite. It certainly was--the appointment with the doctor had been made a week ago!
The next morning, Olivia and Charity visited Dr. Roberta Marshall, well-known in the transgender community as "Doc Tits". The plastic surgeon looked Charity over carefully. "She's an excellent candidate," the doctor advised Olivia, quickly sizing up who was in charge. "Her breast tissue is already somewhat stretched and the rest of her body will look in proportion." She turned to the boy-girl. "What size breasts do you want, Charity?"
Charity smiled. It was a question Olivia had hypnotically prepared her for. "Give me the biggest pair of jugs you can manage!" she said enthusiastically.
"I think you can handle a pair of 35-Ds," the doctor replied.
Sure enough, six hours later, Charity lay in a hospital bed, bandages covering a new set of massive mounds on her chest. Though she could not yet touch her beloved boobs, she smiled dreamily at the thought.
Doc Tits spoke quietly to Olivia. "She going to need extra support for those, of course, as well as some body shaping to make them look their absolute best. I recommend a good corset."
One week later, with her new tits healed and bouncing sexily, Charity left the hospital to the lustful stares of the men and envious glares of the women. She climbed into the car beside Olivia, who explained their first stop. "Having those wonderful hooters of yours means some interesting new clothes, Charity love. I've ordered something special for you."
Moments later, they were in the corsettiere's shop, having Charity's final fitting. The restriction on her waist at first bothered the boy-girl, but when she saw her 35-D tits proudly displayed above her now 22-inch waist, she beamed.
Olivia now realized how completely aroused she was herself. She was a dominatrix Pygmalion and she had to have her once-male Galatea. They raced home and fell into bed, Charity begging Olivia to play with her boobs as the boy-girl happily brought Olivia to climax and then came herself.
Along with the new body, came a new personality for the emerging Charity. She giggled, she posed, she flirted, always leading with her chest. Olivia couldn't be prouder of her creation: Everyone, male or female, dominant or submissive, desired the man-woman she had made and who was devoted to her.
They were at a party several months later, with Charity in a sexy little red cocktail dress (a description that had many double meanings), when the boy-girl suddenly turned to her and said, "Olivia, I need something more." She turned to point to an obviously domme-sub couple, in fetish gear. "I want that!"
More to come
"He" was her erstwhile boyfriend, Charles. The bimbo in question his young associate, Stefani, who favored the crop tops and low-ride jeans made popular by the teen-aged pop star. Charles had begged off a "get-back-together" date with Olivia, claiming an urgent appointment...but Olivia had stopped at Chez Ricardo to cancel her reservation and seen the two at an intimate table, holding hands, as Stefani giggled girlishly.
"So that's the image he wants, huh?" Olivia continued talking to herself. "Wonder how much he really wants it?" She pulled out the book on hypnosis and subliminal programming she'd been studying for an adult-education class. It had suggested a revenge plot to her when she first discovered Charles's straying ways...and now it was clearly time to see if it could work.
A week of work--more studying, time in the school's video lab--followed, but she was soon ready.
"Hello, Charles," she cooed into the phone, trying to sound her most conciliatory. "Is work under better control this week? How about making up that missed date with me?"
"Sure, Olivia," Charles said. "Should I make reservations at Ricardo's?"
"Nooooooo," Olivia purred. "I'm fixing a scrumptious meal for us right here--much more interesting and private, right?" Charles quickly agreed and made plans to be at her door at 7:30 that evening.
Olivia spent the time in between preparing her trap and herself. The lights in the living room were at their most romantic, the special tape already in the VCR. At precisely 7:30, the doorbell rang and she answered it. Charles clearly liked what he saw:
Olivia wore a little black dress with a plunging neckline and a hemline that ended six inches above her knees. Long black gloves accented with silver bracelets graced her arms. She glared at him, but it was a glare that burned with sexual fire.
"Wow!" Charles exclaimed. "Can we forget about dinner?"
"No, we cannot," Olivia answered, smiling seductively. "But dinner has a few more minutes in the oven. Join me on the couch."
They moved into the living room and Olivia got her victim settled comfortably in one corner of the couch, propped on pillows. She took her place at the other end, where the lighting highlighted and accented her eyes. "Look at me, Charles." He did so, his eyes dropping momentarily to her bosom. "No--not there, dear. Here!" She cupped his chin in her gloved hand and raised his gaze to her eyes. Her gaze met his...and he suddenly discovered he could no longer look away.
"You like the way my eyes look in this light, don't you, Charles?" He started to speak, but she put her finger to his lips. "Don't speak, just nod." He nodded. "I knew you would. Look at them closely while I talk, Charles. My voice is soft and low and it makes you relaxed and a little horny, doesn't it?" Another nod. "Good. Just keep looking at my eyes and listening to my voice. My eyes seem to be changing now, don't they? Are they spinning, seeming to become a whirlpool that your own gaze is drowning in?" Still another nod. "Excellent. Let your gaze drown in my whirlpool eyes. Let your consciousness drift on the current of my voice, drift down, down into a light trance. Not too deep, not too deep...just enough to increase your relaxation, your arousal, your suggestiveness."
As Olivia noted his trance state, she let Charles settle even more comfortably into the couch, making sure his gaze was directed at the television set. Then she pressed the remote and the screen came alive with the tape she had made.
Repeated images of teen-aged girls in the style of clothes favored by Charles's secret lover filled the screen, interspersed with images of Charles himself, and with quick flashes of subliminal messages: Isn't she hot? Wouldn't you like to be that hot? Only girls get to be hot. Wouldn't you like to be a girl?
Now the images began to shift--as the pictures of Charles literally morphed into pictures of the sexy teens. Olivia noticed Charles's arousal growing as the images became more and more explicit about him becoming the embodiment of his own desire. The hidden messages became more explicit as well: You are hot. You are a girl. You're a sexy girl--a sexy teen-aged girl.
The screen faded to black, and Olivia moved back into Charles's field of vision. "Who are you?" she asked.
"Charles," he replied.
"What are you?"
"A sexy teen-aged girl," he answered.
"But sexy teen-aged girls aren't named Charles," she objected. "You need a better name. Your name is...Charity--because I expect you to be doing a lot of giving very soon."
She beckoned to him. "Come with me, Charity. We have to get you ready for an appointment." She took his hand and led him to the bedroom. There, three different sets of clothes were laid out: one was a normal male outfit, another was a dress that a sophisticated woman might wear, and the third was a sexy outfit designed for a teen-age girl. The newly renamed Charity moved immediately to that set, as the subliminal messages and images of the tape had urged her to.
It was a sweater and pants set--the sweater a tight-fitting embroidered thing that ended just below the breasts. The pants had an elastic waist and rode low on the hips. Olivia handed the faux girl a lightly padded bra and matching panties to wear beneath, followed by pantihose and sexy sandals with a four-inch heel.
Once Charity was dressed, Olivia did a quick dusting of makeup. "OK, Charity--time for your first beauty appointment!"
And 20 minutes later, they arrived at the beauty salon owned by Olivia's friend Sophia. Still entranced, Charity was oblivious to the idea that this was a place that no male belonged in...unless that male was to be further transformed!
"What did you have in mind for her?" Sophia asked, grinning at the image of the half-changed young man.
"Obviously, a complete facial makeover," Olivia replied. "Make her beautiful! And the hair definitely needs work: that dirty blonde color does nothing for her fair skin and deep brown eyes, don't you agree?" The beautician nodded. "Something long and sexy, I'd say...and a dark chestnut color."
Sophia quickly agreed and in moments the half-hypnotized Charity was seated in the chair, awaiting a whole new look. "Charity," Olivia said to her, "you will find this experience arousing and delightful. You will want to go through it often. Enjoy yourself!"
First came a shampoo, then a careful reshaping of the former Charles's already long locks. The hair color was the next step, followed by a gentle permanent. While it dried, Sophia turned her attention to Charity's hands, filing the nails into slender claws, painted a deep pink verging on red.
Next came the cosmetics, transforming Charles's nondescript, slightly wimpy male features into a paragon of youthful loveliness. Through it all, Charity's gaze was directed away from the mirror, so that the final effect would be a total surprise. The final step was the comb-out.
At last, after more than two hours, it was completed! Charity was ready for her unveiling. But before that event, Olivia again spoke to her.
"Charity, in a moment you will see yourself for the first time. That sight will raise your arousal level to the highest it's ever been. You will pose, you will primp...and when you hear me say Charity begins at home, you will come as you never have before, falling deep in love and lust with your own feminized image."
Olivia and Sophia walked their charge to the full-length mirror and then turned her to face it. Instantly, a smile widened on Charity's face, her breathing grew heavy, and she began a series of sexy poses, all the while feeling her pantied cock grow larger beneath the tight-fitting, low-riding pants.
Olivia watched Charity's hand stray toward her half-hidden bulge and felt her own arousal grow. Her nipples grew hard and erect, her pussy wet and hot. Watching her creation turn itself on was turning Olivia on as well. Finally, she could stand it no longer. "Charity begins at home!, she announced, and watched the boy-girl nearly collapse from the power of her orgasm.
And felt herself react as well, as though the post-hypnotic suggestion had as much power over the hypnotist as it did over the hypnotized!
More to come
She frowned. "You all know that, in order for the Institute to achieve success in its ultimate goals for society, we must be able to give all our prospective clients exactly what they are looking for in our treatment of the subjects they bring to us." She reached into the box that sat beside her on the table and pulled a small metal band with a number of electrodes attached. "This is the IRG Trans/Conformer 1. We in the Technological Division have been working on it for two years. As of now, it has been successfully tested on all manner of lab animals, beginning with rats six months ago and climaxing with the stunning success with a chimpanzee we demonstrated just yesterday to many of you gathered here."
Amanda leaned forward and placed her hands flatly on the table, her magnificent breasts pushing against the thin fabric of her satin blouse. "It's time for a test on a human subject. Since we have all agreed that, eventually, we must present our own subjects for the Institute treatment, I have decided that my own husband, Mitch, will be the first to experience the Trans/Conformer." She flipped a switch and a TV monitor came to life on the wall behind her. "As you can see, even now Mitch is being prepared in our surgery. The Trans/Conformer will be implanted beneath the skin at the back of his head and, over the next three weeks, I will use it to bring Mitch to the same level of transformational success that normal methods require six months to achieve."
The room fell silent as they watched the Institute's surgeons and technicians place the strange device in the unsuspecting Mitch. Yes, unsuspecting--for Mitch had not given any consent to this procedure. Like nearly all Institute subjects, he had been chosen for treatment by the woman in his life, and that treatment would be something he would never have chosen for himself.
******
Mitch awoke and saw his wife seated in the chair opposite his bed. As he came to consciousness, he became aware of what seemed like a myriad of voices murmuring within his mind.
"Hello, Mitch," Amanda said. "Welcome back. No doubt you can feel my little addition to your mind working right now."
He nodded. "Amanda, what's happening?"
"What's happening, love, is that you are the first of what I hope will be a long and successful set of new subjects for the Institute." Mitch's eyes went wide. "Now, now, don't look so surprised, darling," Amanda cautioned. "You've always known about my work--surely you didn't think you were exempt from the plans of the Institute?" She stood and walked to a room-wide closet beside the bed and threw open the doors.
Mitch couldn't believe his eyes--within the closet was a range of feminine clothing such as he had never imagined could exist: day wear, party clothes, evening wear and even bizarre fetish clothing. Oddly enough, he couldn't take his gaze from them; he wanted them, passionately. He desired them. And, somehow he knew, too, that they were all intended for him.
"I can see the Trans/Conformer is operating perfectly, by the look in your eyes," Amanda said. "Yes, this is your new wardrobe. By the way, you have a new name, as well--Mitzi." She pulled out some articles of clothing and commanded, "Get dressed!"
Twenty minutes later, Mitzi was dressed in a black corset, black panties, sheer black stockings, and patent-leather pumps with six-inch spike heels, all accented by a pair of black elbow-length gloves. Amanda had quickly feminized her husband's face with makeup. Now came the next lesson.
"The plan does not end with feminizing you, Mitzi, dear," Amanda explained. "No, you must be taught to instantly comply with all the wishes of the women in your life. Oh--and there will be more as well." She stepped to an intercom panel. "All right, Doris, input lesson plan B."
Just a few moments later, Amanda sat, leaning comfortably back in her chair, her own elegantly stockinged and shod leg extended. Mitzi lay on the floor before her, supported by elbows and ass. As Amanda placed her foot near Mitzi's mouth, she said, quietly but firmly, "Suck it, dear."
Mitzi felt the myriad voices in her head all come together in a chorus that seemed to say, "Obey, obey....OBEY." She took the toe of the shoe within her mouth and began to suck and lick at it as if it were the sweetest of candy.
*****
Within a week, Mitzi no longer noticed the constant voices within her head; they were simply a part of her--the part that enforced the submissive, feminine psyche Amanda and the others in the Institute were working so hard to instill in her.
Each morning, Mitzi dressed in the clothes the voices suggested, suggestions that came from the various lesson plans input by the Institute technicians. Over time, she realized that the choices were overwhelmingly feminine and sexy, intended to present an image of a flirtatious young woman unafraid to flaunt her charms to all and sundry. In addition, she realized that being seen in these clothes was sexually arousing, that she got an intense sexual pleasure from playing this role.
Still, there was a part of Mitch that remained inhibited. Though Mitzi delighted in the clothes suggested by the voices, Mitch's mind frequently rebelled, to the point that he was able to prevent his body from carrying out the suggestions from the Trans/Conformer's programmers.
One of the technicians eventually showed a readout of these incidents to Amanda. She sat at her desk, studying the numbers and charts. Finally, she pointed to one graph. "Here's the problem--the level of sexual arousal when on display isn't high enough." She pulled out a folder and went through the contents, then handed a sheaf of papers to the technician. "Tomorrow, when I've got Mitzi out for her visit to the city, input this lesson plan. If we have to go to exhibitionist to get flirt, we will!"
Twenty-four hours later, Mitzi and Amanda were strolling through the downtown business district, enjoying the gaze of many male admirers and the disapproval of many jealous female onlookers.
Many of those looks were aimed at Mitzi--she wore a form-fitting white dress with a halter collar and a short skirt with a slit to the thigh on the left side. Her legs were in sheer nude hose and her feet in white patent pumps with five-inch heels.
Amanda spotted a fountain on the next block. "Excuse me," she said to Mitzi and pulled out her cell phone. "Input the lesson plan now," she instructed.
Amanda immediately noticed a change in Mitzi's demeanor. Her walk became more sexual, her hips swaying more. Her smile for each male eye became broader and she no longer attempted to control her skirt when the occasional gust would flip up under the slit.
As they approached the fountain, surrounded by businessmen enjoying the cool mist in the noonday heat, Mitzi dashed ahead, and plunged into the water, feeling the spray coat her body and make the thin white fabric of her dress cling to her every curve, revealing her lingerie beneath. She grinned with arousal as she felt every male eye upon her as well as the approving gaze of Amanda.
"At last, she's ready for the final step," Amanda thought.
*****
One week later, Amanda again addressed the assembled Institute staff in the conference room. She showed them the tapes of Mitch's transformation into Mitzi, the data from the Trans/Conformer's readouts, and comparisons of Mitch's progress as against other subjects undergoing similar changes by traditional methods. The staff nodded in agreement.
"Now, I think it's time you all met Mitzi," she said.
Amanda led the staff down the corridors to the Institute's reception area. There, behind the reception desk sat Mitzi, dressed in a low-cut blouse, tight leather miniskirt, six-inch heels and elaborate make-up. She smiled broadly as the staff approached. Just then, the phone rang. "Excuse me a moment, please," she giggled, then--still giggling--spoke into the phone: "IGR, Institute for Gender Realignment--how may I help you?"
THE END
(We may see more of the IGR in future stories.)
That expression turned to a wide smile as Bobbie stopped in front of a collection of bondage-related clothing: latex and leather blouses and skirts, shoes with extreme high heels, collars with padlocks, delicate chains that would link ankles and wrists. He sighed noticeably--then turned suddenly when she spoke:
"For your girlfriend, or for you?" the owner, Janice, asked.
"I--I don't have a girlfriend," Bobbie stammered.
"A cute guy like you?" Janice laughed. He was cute, if a little small and slight. "OK--then, considering something for yourself?"
Bobbie was beside himself. How could he tell her the truth? What would this beautiful woman think if she knew?
"You'd like to wear those things, wouldn't you?" Janice continued to press. "And other girlish things, too, right? But only when a beautiful girl told you to?"
"How did you--No!" he insisted. "Not at all!"
"Come now, I've been running this shop for years--I know a submissive cross-dresser...or a wannabe...when I see one." Janice smiled knowingly. "I can help you, you know."
"I--I don't need, I don't want help," Bobbie argued.
"Nonsense--of course you do," Janice answered. She pulled out a sapphire pendant and held it before him. "I've helped dozens of boys just like you, boys who knew what they wanted but couldn't admit it. And this pendant was a part of that help."
"The--the pendant?" Bobbie said, finding that he was intrigued by the play of light in the deep blue of the jewel.
"Yes, look at it," Janice went on, "it's beautiful, just like the beautiful girl you could be if you let me help. Look and let me help...look...let me help," she continued, moving the pendant in the light, letting it flash into his eyes, "look...help...look...look....."
In moments, Bobbie was completely entranced, deep in a hypnotic spell. Janice led him to a chair, then closed and locked the shop. She pulled out what she thought were the proper clothes, then dressed him.
He wore a tight-fitting lacy red blouse over a bra that altered his form to a stunning 36C bosom. His skirt was short and black, pleated to make it stand out and show off even more of his legs, which were clad in black thigh-highs. He was perched on a pair of black patent-leather sandals with two-inch platforms and six-inch spike heels.
She found a black curly wig and placed it on his head, then carefully made up his face to bring out his dark eyes and full lips. Yes, Bobbie could be beautiful!
"Bobbie," she said to him, "in a moment, I'm going to snap my fingers and you will wake up. When you do, you will be pleased to be dressed as a girl and will act accordingly. Furthermore, you will remember and obey the following instructions....."
*****
Snap!
Bobbie's eyes fluttered and he awoke. He looked down at his new clothing and smiled. Yes, he thought, Mistress Janice was completely correct. This is what I've wanted for so long!
His new mistress approached him and returned his smile. "Bobbi, you look wonderful! But we're not quite done." She picked up a pair of gold bracelets and clicked them to his wrists.
"They're very tight, mistress," Bobbi tried to protest.
"Nonsense," Janice answered. "We don't want them to accidentally fall off, do we?" Bobbi shook his head. "Of course not--now, give me your hands."
Bobbie held out his hands as ordered. Mistress Janice attached a thin gold chain to the pretty bracelets around his wrists. Instantly, a slew of thoughts, suggestions and commands came alive in Bobbie's mind:
The moment you are bound in any way you cease to be male. Bondage makes you submissive...and submissives are girls! You are Bondage Bimbo Bobbi! Bondage not only makes you feminine and submissive, it makes you crave even more bondage!
Bobbi dropped to one nylon-clad knee, her short skirt still not coming near the floor. "Please, Mistress," she began, "bind me further into your service!"
"Of course, my darling!" Mistress Janice cooed. "Stand up!" Bobbi complied. Mistress Janice produced another length of chain, somewhat heavier and shorter, and attached it to the ankle straps of Bobbi's shoes. "Now walk!" she commanded.
Without hesitation, Bobbi took a step--and nearly tumbled to the floor. The combination of the six-inch heels on her shoes and the six-inch length of the chain connecting her ankles had changed her stride to a mincing step. She carefully began to inch her way across the floor.
"Excellent!" Mistress Janice announced. "A few days of that and even unbound you'll be unable to walk with anything resembling a male step." She headed for the door. "Come with me!"
We're leaving? Bobbie thought. How can we go anywhere with me in female clothing and bound like this? But the hypnotic suggestions and commands Mistress Janice had placed in his mind still controlled him. "Yes, Mistress," he answered and minced out behind her.
They made it to the car without incident. Mistress Janice assisted her bound submissive into the front passenger seat and began to make some adjustments. First, she unbuttoned the front of Bobbi's dress, so her carefully enhanced cleavage was clearly visible. Then she unlocked the chain from her ankles, placing one foot on the dashboard, so that Bobbi's short skirt fell back, exposing her stocking tops, garters and panties. She used the chain to lock that foot to the glove compartment handle.
Then she unlocked the chain from her wrists. Using a longer chain, looped around the one tying her foot to the dash, she reconnected and repositioned Bobbi's hands. One was placed on her left nipple, the other in her crotch. Experimenting, Bobbi discovered she could move her hands only enough to stimulate those sensitive areas, but not away from them.
Satisfied with her slave's pose, Mistress Janice walked around the car and got into the driver's seat. "There--that should give the truckers on Route 72 something to gaze at, don't you think, Bobbi?"
Bobbi was dumbstruck. Deep within, his male mind raged with doubt. I'm a guy, how can I even be thinking of trying to arouse other guys this way? he thought. On the surface, his feminized self shivered with delight at the thought of the admiring and lustful glances he'd been getting.
Soon enough, Mistress Janice had maneuvered the car onto the highway and was soon cruising alongside an 18-wheeler. She pulled up until she was sure the driver had a clear view of the passenger side and then tapped the horn.
The driver's eyes went wide and he grinned lasciviously when he spotted Bobbi in her revealing pose. But it didn't end there. Mistress Janice looked Bobbi in the eye and said, Itch!"
And another set of commands flooded Bobbi's mind: You are horny...and you need relief! Play with yourself! But you may not come without Mistress Janice's permission!
Without any further thought, Bobbi's hands began to move over her crotch and nipples, stirring them to even stronger arousal. She squirmed in her seat, growing more and more excited, constantly aware that the truck driver believed this was a show she was deliberately providing for him.
"Flirt!" It was another trigger to release more hypnotic commands from his psyche. Bobbi turned and looked up at the driver. She smiled and batted her eyelashes. She cupped her breasts with her bound hand and offered it to him, mockingly. Just as it seemed the driver was about to say something, Janice slammed her foot on the accelerator and zoomed away.
They got off at the next exit, but Bobbi continued to operate under the given commands. By the time they reached Mistress Janice's home, she was so aroused that her cock was clearly visible under the frills of her skirt. His eyes pleaded with his mistress for relief, but Janice would have none of it. She unlocked her new submissive from his obscene display in the car and had him follow her, mincing all the way, into the house.
Once in the house, Janice led Bobbi to the bedroom, where she stripped to her own lingerie. She reached into a nightstand drawer and produced a large vibrating dildo. She showed it to him...and another trigger was pulled:
Like any bimbo, you long for the feel of a big cock inside you. You will beg to be filled when a cock or a dildo is displayed to you!
"Please, Mistress Janice," Bobbi pleaded. "Let me come, let me come with that gorgeous shaft buried deep within me!"
"In a moment, Bobbi," Janice answered, smiling. "First you must please me. Come here and turn around."
Bobbi did as ordered, and soon heard the soft buzz of the dildo as its mechanism was activated. She groaned and sighed as Mistress Janice worked the vibrating cock into and out of his ass, finally leaving it well within him.
"Now turn and face me." Again Bobbi complied, to find his beautiful mistress sitting on the bed, her legs spread wide and her pussy clearly visible--wet and ready. "Service me!"
Bobbi knelt and plunged her face deep into Janice's crotch, her tongue and lips playing with the mistress's clit. Soon, Bobbi felt his mistress verge on orgasm...and as she did, a new set of commands were triggered: You will come when your mistress comes!
Simultaneously, the domme and her new submissive reached their peaks and subsided in loving fulfillment.
*****
Mistress Janice spent much of the next week bringing Bobbi in and out of her trance, deepening it each time, exploring the submissive's fantasies and desires. One in particular was strong and came to intrigue the mistress.
It was the Sunday of the Super Bowl and Janice had again dressed and hypnotized Bobbi, presenting her with a new set of instuctions and suggestions. In addition to the extremely feminine garments she dressed her lover in, Janice placed a remote-controlled vibrating butt plug deep within her ass.
As they settled in to watch the game, Janice drew Bobbi's attention to the cheerleaders whenever they appeared on screen, dancing and jumping around in their hot pants and halters. With each sight of them, Janice observed Bobbi's cock swell, and her eyes glaze over. Finally, she said to Bobbi, "Perhaps you could be a cheerleader someday, Bobbi love." She pointed to the mirror in the hallway. "Go look at yourself."
Bobbi arose and half-entranced, minced in her heels to the mirror. As she reached it, Mistress Janice activated the vibrator, and Bobbi felt the stimulation. New thoughts flooded her mind once more: Look in the mirror. Do you see yourself? You are no longer simply Bondage Bimbo Bobbi--now you are Bouncing Bimbo Bobbi, the submissive cheerleader.
And in Bobbi's mind, the image in the mirror softened, faded and reformed as a glamorous cheerleader in a red-and-white uniform, her magnificent boobs tumbling out of her top, her long sleek legs atop high-heeled boots. Dance, Bobbi, dance as you feel your arousal grow!
And, shaking her imaginary pom-poms, Bobbi began a most sensuous cheerleader routine, displaying her tits with abandon, kicking her legs so that her tight pants revealed the bulge of her aroused cock, all the while feeling the vibration of the butt plug drive her more and more to climax.
"Look at me, Bobbi," Mistress Janice called. Bobbi turned and saw her mistress with her hands buried deep in her own pussy, arousing herself and panting at the image of her faux-cheerleader performing for the audience of one. "Do you want to come?" she asked.
"Oh, yes, Mistress," Bobbi breathed.
"Then remember your orders." A phrase again rolled through Bobbi's mind: You will come when your mistress comes! And still dancing, still cheering, she watched until her mistress's arousal reached its peak and Janice screamed with fulfillment. At that moment, Bobbi again filled her own panties with come, collapsing to the floor, but still ready to serve her mistress in any way.
THE END
