Thursday, August 23, 2007

Petticoating the Boss, Chapter Four: Picture Perfect

"Oh, here's a great idea!" Jessica cried, handing Angela a formal evening gown, of the type a teenager might wear to her senior prom. "I think with a few touches--and your instinct for the right description of the kind of girl who would wear this--we can have a very interesting version of Stephanie to enjoy." Each set of clothes Angela dressed the little TV in, combined with Angela's description of the kid of woman who would wear it, succeeded in placing a new persona in Stephanie's roster of identities.


The gown was hot pink, with a sweetheart neckline that revealed Stephanie's budding bosom. It was tightly fitted in the bodice, then expanded into a swirl of net, lace and satin in the skirt, ending at the TV's ankles. Beneath it, the women had dressed the former Steven in virginal white lingerie, including a garter belt, and sheer pink stockings with diamond clock work at the ankles. The shoes were pink satin dancing pumps with five-inch heels.


As they completed the outfit, Angela told Stephanie of the girl who wore the gown. "You are off to the prom, Stephanie," she began, "but your date is a little kinky." She slipped a wrist corsage on the boy-girl's left arm, then put a heavy silver band around her right wrist. "He wants to make sure you don't stray to any other young stud--so he has bound you." With that, she hooked the band of the corsage through the bracelet on the other arm, then padlocked it in place. Stephanie's arms were tied together, the bonds hidden by the flowers of the corsage she seemed to carry so delicately before her.


"But your date wants to make sure you are ready for the after- prom festivities as well, Stephanie," Angela continued, producing a vibrating dildo. She lifted up the gown's skirt in back as she spoke. "He wants you hot! This vibrator will fill your 'pussy' until his cock can do the same." She turned on the vibrator deep within Stephanie's ass and dropped the skirt of the gown.


"All this has turned you on, Stephanie. You want to be his little bondage slave. You hope the prom will end early so he can show you what other ways he will control you from now on," Angela concluded.


They let Stephanie enjoy the fantasy Angela had cooked up for a few minutes, while they sipped coffee and made small talk.


"Have you anything else that's interesting, Jess?" Angela asked, finally.


"Well, other than the classic French maid's costume, I have one other idea," she answered, rummaging into a pile of clothes. "Ah, here it is!" She produced a white satin dress on a hanger.


"A bridal gown--terrific!" Angela replied, quickly preparing the hapless Stephanie for yet another shift in her psyche.


"But this is no ordinary bridal gown," Jessica pointed out, as the unusual outfit settled over Stephanie's form. "Look--the front is cut short, mini-style, so her lovely legs show completely, while the back forms a train. And the sleeves--see?"


Stephanie soon saw what her mistress's boutique-owner friend meant. The sleeves were really just one sleeve: When her arms were in the lacy tunnels, they met in a pair of mittens that forced her to hold her hands folded before her. The gown was also tight! It constricted her waist, pressed against her bosom, its high lacy neckline contrasting with the short skirt in front. With it, Angela dressed her little doll in white lace panties, a matching garter belt and lacy white stockings. The shoes were white satin pumps with a floral pattern and six-inch heels.


"She's a bondage bride!" Angela exclaimed. "Oh, this is wonderful, Jess!"


The dominant turned to Stephanie, thrusting a dildo deep in the helpless boy-girl's mouth. "Stephanie, in this dress you are at once virginal and wanton. You will suck that dildo like a real cock, always wishing it were one. At that same time, you are deeply embarrassed by your bound and exposed state." With that, Angela locked a silver chain around Stephanie's ankles, limiting her stride to a mere six inches. "You will wear this until your stride is naturally the mincing walk I want to see from my bondage bride," she told the TV.


Stephanie felt her personality take on the tone her mistress described. She felt her face burn hot with shame, at the same time the rubber cock filled her mouth that slobbered all over it and her own cock grew large and heavy in her lacy panties. As instructed, she practiced her tail- and breast-wiggling walk in the extreme heels and chains. No man with an interest in B&D could have resisted this image.


The two dominant women reveled in the TV's humiliation for several minutes, then ordered a halt.


"Stephanie, it's time to leave," Angela announced. "Jess, do you have catalog photos of these outfits we've tried on?"


"Sure, Angie--what are you up to?" Jessica replied.


"I've got an idea for a way to bring out these various personalities in Stephanie. I'm going to give it a try at home." By now, Stephanie was once again in her ditzy deb outfit--and the mindset to match.


"Oh, Angela! All these clothes are SO scrumptious! Can I buy them all?" the TV exclaimed.


"Certainly, Stephanie," Angela answered. "I want you to." With that, she pulled Steven's credit card out of her purse and had the entire wardrobe--satin short set, hooker dress, prom gown, bridal gown, French maid uniform--charged to his account. Then they said their goodbyes to Jessica and Trish and left.


That evening, in Steve's apartment, Angela tacked the photos of the various outfits on a wall and stood Stephanie--clad in lingerie alone--before the display.


"Stephanie," she announced, "these pictures represent the various personalities hidden within you. Whenever you see one of them, that persona will come to the fore. You will have an irresistible urge to dress in the appropriate costume and serve me. No matter where you are--no matter whether you are Steven or Stephanie--your mind will shift as you have been instructed. Do you understand?"


"Yes, Mistress Angela," the mesmerized submissive answered.


Angela began removing the photos from the wall as she continued, "When I close the door behind me tonight, you will take a dose of the drugs I have left for you, remove your lingerie and store it in the drawer I have indicated. Then you will start the tape I have left and go to bed. When you awake in the morning, you will remember nothing of today's activities, except the instructions I have given you. You will follow this routine every evening until I say otherwise. Steven will always be unaware of Stephanie--but Stephanie will always Steven is inside her and will fill his shame at his feminized state. Good night, Stephanie...I'll see you at work tomorrow."


And with that, Angela walked out the door. Following her instructions, Stephanie drank the concoction of narcotic and hormones, put away her clothes and went to bed, with the instruction tape whispering in her ears.


Over the next two days, Steven often pondered over the 36 hours of lost memory, but hesitated to mention it to anyone. After all, no one wanted an executive who had memory losses or blackouts. Otherwise, everything in his life seemed normal. Angela seemed very attentive and was doing her usual terrific job as his assistant. Maybe he would have to give her more money.


For her part, Angela was merely biding her time, letting the nightly dose of chemicals and sleep learning sink in before springing the next stage in her trap. By lunch time on the third day after Steven's first transformation, she was ready. She prepared a very special message and took it to a local office supply store, one that would send faxes for those without fax machines.


"I'd like this sent to this number," she said to the clerk, handing him a single sheet of paper. "And at precisely three o'clock," she added.


"But this is just around the corner, isn't it? Why not just deliver by hand?" the clerk asked.


"It's a surprise for a friend in the office," Angela answered, not exactly lying. With that, the clerk took the "message" and prepared to send it when requested.


At three that afternoon, Steve was told there was a fax coming in for him. He would have to pick it up himself, since Angela had gone home sick. He went to the fax machine and watched as the "message" came in. When it was complete, he picked it up and looked at it.


On the single page was a photo of a girl in a French maid's uniform and the handwritten note, "Go home, Stephanie."


Immediately, Steven felt a change come over him...he was no longer Steve the executive, but Stephanie, the sexy French maid. Giggling and mincing (even in his male clothes), he hurried to the elevator. "I must get home to greet my Mistress," he thought. With increasing urgency, as the chemicals and commands demanded, she sped to her apartment.


Deep within him, Steven thought, "I must look ridiculous," but his outer mind and body could not resist the deep conditioning his Mistress had placed upon him. It took him twenty minutes to get home by subway, his extremely feminine movements attracting stares and ridicule the whole way.


Reaching his apartment door, he discovered that his keys were missing. Sheepishly, he rang the bell. The door swung open and there stood his Mistress Angela, dangling the key ring from her index finger. Behind her stood a bevy of beautiful women--some dominant from the look of their leather clothes, others obviously submissive in their lacy finery and surreptitious bondage. Many of the salves were obviously transformed men.


"About time you got here, Stephanie," Angela announced. "All my friends and their salves are waiting for the party to start. Go get into your uniform."


Stephanie minced into the bedroom, where she found the black satin and white lace costume waiting. She stripped off Steven's business suit, shirt and tie, then picked up the extremely restrictive corset necessary for the maid's dress to fit. She hooked it around her waist, just as Angela entered.


"Excellent, Stephanie. Here, let me help you lace that up," she offered, taking the leather laces of the corset in her hands. She put her knee into the boy-girl's back and pulled, tightening the laces with all her might. After several such tugs, Stephanie's waist had been reduced to a mere 20 inches. With a flourish, Angela tied the laces off, then covered them with Krazy Glue--Stephanie would get out of this corset when her Mistress desired and not a moment sooner.


Now Stephanie sat and did her makeup as her sleep learning had taught her--and soon she was again the stunning auburn-haired young woman who had left Margaret's beauty salon two weeks ago. Next, she clipped on dangling earrings. Then came the padded bra, filling out her figure to a full 36C. Angela had not laid out panties, so the garter belt was next, followed by sleek black stockings of real silk. Three layers of white and red taffeta petticoats followed, standing nearly horizontal from her corseted waist. Then the dress: Made of heavy black satin, it clung to her artificial curves; its short skirt, sitting atop the stiff, rustly petticoats, revealed her legs all the way to the stocking tops and garters. The final touch was the black patent-leather pumps; Stephanie teetered on their seven-inch heels.


Angela again stepped forward, locking a tiny padlock through the zipper catch on the back of the dress, followed by a gold choker collar (also locked) around Stephanie's throat and matching heavy gold chains about her left wrist and ankle. "Step back, Stephanie, dear."


The Mistress observed her creation and smiled, triumphantly. "All right, Stephanie," Angela announced. "The party's about to begin--and you will serve my guests as you would serve me!"

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