Randy Grant smiled in anticipation. He'd seen a sample of this website on one of the newsgroups, and he'd worked for the past six hours to hack his way past the privacy measures. he was nearly certain he'd breached their defenses.
He typed in his false password and ID, then punched the enter key. Sure enough, a welcome screen loaded, complete with more of the dazzling pictures that had caught his eye on the newsgroup the day before. The site was filled with illustrations of beautiful women in provocative clothing--lingerie, leather, vinyl, rubber, extremely high heels, and boots.
That's odd, Randy thought. There's no e-mail address on the site, not even a copyright line indicating ownership. Who goes to this much trouble to shield his site from prying eyes and then doesn't take credit for it?
Shaking off his confusion, Randy began browsing the site. There was relatively little text, just captions identifying the models: "Paula, Roberta, Michelle, Carol, Marcia...." The list seemed endless.
And there was another oddity--as each page began to load, there seemed to be an odd flash on his monitor, as if something else momentarily appeared on screen and then just as quickly was replaced by the loading page. By the time Randy got to the fifth page of sexy photos, a strange thought was running through his head: How would it feel to wear these clothes?
"Ridiculous!" he said aloud. I might be a bit of a nerd, but I'm all guy, he mused. Still, imagine the attention the girls who wear this stuff must get!
On the next page came the shot that had originally caught his eye and riveted his attention to hacking his way to full access to the site. It was the most gorgeous pair of legs he'd ever seen, perched patent-leather pumps with six-inch heels and topped by a skin-tight shiny black vinyl miniskirt, revealing the thighs almost to the crotch. He glanced at his watch. Geez--it's after midnight! I had no idea I'd been at this for so long! Sighing, he closed up the web browser, after bookmarking the page, and went to bed.
Randy's dreams that night were filled with the images from the remarkable website. He stirred in his sleep with arousal as he watched the fetish-clad lovelies dress in their leathers and rubbers and heels, and as they dressed each other as well. The final dream was the most disturbing: Four leather-clad women, in corsets and nylons and extreme high heels, dressed a completely naked form. But the subject's crotch was never clearly shown and its face seemed to always be in shadow. Finally, as it watching a carefully edited film, Randy watched as the image started at those same six-inch pumps, scanned up the long, sleek legs to the hips surrounded by the skin-tight vinyl miniskirt, and continued over the vinyl bustier pushing the tits up and together in tantalizing cleavage. The final view was of the still-shadowed face, as the light slowly brightened and the features were revealed--his features! Randy's features! This fetish-clad model, now simpering in submission before her dominant transformers was Randy himself!
Randy awoke with a start, to discover his cock harder than he could ever remember it, and his shorts wet and sticky with cum.
Later that day, Randy found himself compelled to again hack his way onto the site. The memory of last night's strange dream was fresh in his mind and he found himself picturing every image with a hidden face as his face! This time, Randy discovered an e-mail link and clicked on it.
"Dear Madam:
I am enchanted by your website. Please let me know if it is possible to meet any of your lovely models."
Once again, as yesterday, each loaded page seemed to be preceded by an unusual flash on the screen. These flashes seemed to become more frequent and more intense as he came upon a new section, filled with photos of men half-transformed to women: Men with their short hair still apparent, but their faces lovingly feminized with blusher, eyeshadow, mascara, and lipstick; men with their flat chests unadorned, but their waists pulled in cruelly with corsets, their legs sleeked with sheer nylons and perched atop spike heels. And all of them apparently in a high state of arousal.
Randy discovered himself aroused as well.
Later during the session, he was told he had e-mail. Opening the message, he discovered it was from Mistress Amanda, webmistress of the site. The tone was surprisingly cold and commanding:
"You little pansy! Did you think you could hack into our website and not be noticed? Every time you have loaded a new page from the site, you have been impressed with a subliminal message that has altered your thoughts and desires. Finding yourself interested in women's clothing, sissy? Want to have a beautiful woman turn you into her sexy lesbian whore? Of course you do, because we have made you want it!
"High heel desire!"
Upon reading that last phrase, Randy seemed to blank out, unaware of anything until--what seemed like mere seconds later--a demanding female voice announced, "Wake up, sissy!"
He awoke to find himself in strange surroundings, with a group of four women around him, women exactly like the dominants of his dream the night before. Each was dressed in leather and heels, each was beautiful and sexy and certainly in control of the situation and of him. He struggled but could not move.
A tall blonde with her hair pulled back in a French twist stood before him. "How are you feeling, Sissy Randi?" He looked at her dumbfounded. "Yes, that is your name now--the only name you will be known by or answer to. Since you're such a computer expert, we've 'hired' you--on our terms--to prevent others from violating our security as you did. Of course, we've had to make sure you don't run off, not that the subliminal programming we've given you would permit that. Still, best to be safe for the first few weeks, right?"
She rolled a full-length mirror in front of him and the transformed hacker saw the new Randi for the first time. Her head was crowned with a long dark wig, bangs cut straight across above her eyebrows, the full length of the hair meeting her breasts. Yes, she had breasts--large, voluptuous globes held in check by the cups of the severe corset that pulled in her waist to mere 20 inches. The garters on the corset were attached to dark nylons, and her feet were slipped into black pumps with the most extreme heels Randi had ever seen--a full seven inches high.
But the worst of it was that she was bound--carefully tied at the wrists, knees and ankles with nylon rope. What's more, the entire image had aroused Randi once more--within his black satin panties his cock strained against its confinement.
As the dominant women left, Randi heard a giggling voice answer the phone outside the room: "IGR, Institute for Gender Realignment--how may I help you?"
THE END
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