"So how's the 'project' coming?" Sophia asked, two weeks later.
"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
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