Outside his office, Angela watched through the glass wall as Steven downed mouthful after mouthful of the brew. She smiled secretively. This was the beginning of Steven's transformation, she thought.
But in reality, that transformation had begun six months ago with her own change from sweet, frilly secretary type to dynamic, dominant assistant. The afternoon of the creation of Susan's new maid Sally (nee Sal), her two new friends had invited her to Mistress Margaret's beauty salon. "If you're going to be a dominant, you need a whole new look," Jennifer told her. "Besides, maybe it will give you some ideas for Stephanie's new life as well."
The visit to Margaret's establishment was another revelation for Angela. In the back room of the otherwise normal beauty salon, the dominant beautician maintained a business devoted to aiding her mistress friends and associates in turning their husbands, boyfriends and sons into sweetly submissive little transvestites.
There was only one TV client today, a boy of about 15 named Nathaniel. His mother, Eva, had grown tired of his constant carping about the greater freedom she gave his sister. "You want to be a girl--so be it!" she said to him as Margaret tied him down to the special chair used for difficult cases. The lad continued to struggle--so hard that Margaret knew she would never be able to do her transforming work. She produced a hypodermic filled with a bright blue liquid.
"This will calm him down," the hairdresser told Eva. "He'll be nearly catatonic until I give him the antidote," she added, as she pressed the syringe into Nathaniel's arm. "Plus, it will allow you to impress any special orders you might want."
Eva grinned. "Oh, I have some special orders, all right!"
Margaret turned the boy's transformation over to an assistant and escorted Angela back to the main part of the salon. "I think I know just the right 'look' for you, Angela," she said. She opened a presentation book filled with glossy photos of models in a variety of hair styles and makeups. She flipped through several pages, then stopped, pointing out a particular shot. "What do you think?"
"Perfect!" Angela glowed--this would shock the pants off Steven for sure--pun intended.
Margaret started work--trimming Angela's shoulder- length hair to a boyish shag, then using mousse and gel to make it into a tousled halo then set off her high cheekbones. Next was the makeup: a completely new look for the formerly shy and retiring Angela. Instead of the pale blues, pinks and roses she normally chose for herself, Margaret went for stronger colors. Her eyes were accented with deep brown shadow and a heavy application of mascara, lengthening her lashes 'til she could feel them brush her cheeks with every blink. The blush was a deep rose, making her cheekbones stand out further. Finally, a deep red lipstick, shiny and wet--matched by the same color on her finger- and toenails.
The whole process took the better part of two hours. As she helped Angela from the chair, Margaret asked, "Would you like to see Nathaniel, now?"
"Would I ever!" Angela replied, following the beauty salon proprietress into the back.
Sitting in the bondage chair was a very different person from the mousy teenager they had left two hours ago. Nathaniel's brown hair had been changed to a vibrant red, which served to bring out the natural green of his eyes and his freckles. It had further been permed into attractive ringlets that hung to his shoulders. Those green eyes were highlighted by shadows and mascaras in green and brown. A light dusting of blush (not enough to hide the beguiling freckles) brought out the transformed boy's cheekbones and a soft pink lipstick made his mouth look sweet and girlish. Overall, this was a knockout any teenaged boy would beg for a date.
He sat upright in the chair, his mind and body still enthralled to the drug Margaret had injected into him earlier. Now she produced the antidote. "Wait!" Eva interrupted. "I haven't given him his 'orders' yet."
Eva turned to the lovely young thing who had been her son only two hours ago. "Your name is Natasha. While you are constantly aware of your true male gender, you are unable to reveal that gender to anyone. You will always act like a girl of 15--a girl who thoroughly enjoys being as feminine as possible at all times.
"You receive a sexual thrill from wearing the most feminine of clothes: lace, silk, satin, nylon. But you cannot abide the feel of pants on your legs--in fact, pulling on a pair of pants causes you great pain." She smiled evilly and looked at Margaret. "Jennifer suggested that one--she'll never be able to appear as a boy again!" The dominant mother turned again to her new "daughter." "You are totally devoted to me and to your sister," she told the young TV. "Any order we give you is like the greatest wish you ever had--to be fulfilled immediately.
"All right," she said to Margaret, "wake her up."
The syringe with the antidote sank into Natasha's arm and in moments, the beautiful green eyes fluttered. "Oh mother!" the soft voice cried. "I'm beautiful--thank you so much!"
"You're welcome," Eva replied, settling into another of the salon's chairs, pulling her skirt up to reveal her unclad sex. "Now come over here and show your appreciation." Without hesitation, Natasha sank to her knees before her mother and buried her face in Eva's crotch.
Margaret and Angela tiptoed out, silently closing the door behind them.
Angela thought back on that first time she had seen the dominants' amazing mind-control drug in action. But she knew there was no way she could manage to inject the chemical into Steven. Fortunately, Jennifer and Susan had told her that it could be taken orally as well...and though the effect took longer to build up, repeated applications would result in a totally pliable male psyche--with the subject unaware of the way in which his mind had been altered.
She had been slipping the drug into Steven's food--lunch, coffee, water--for the past month. Today should be the day: When he finished his current cup of coffee, there should be enough of the chemical in his system for him to fall victim to her suggestions.
She glanced into the office. He had placed the empty cup on his desk--now was the time. She picked up her phone and dialed his intercom number. "Yes?" he responded.
"Steven, you are frozen to your chair," she told him. "You cannot move; you cannot speak, until I permit it." She looked into the office, he was rigid in his seat--it was working! She hung up the phone and entered his office, locking the door behind her and pulling the blinds on the glass wall.
"All right, Steven, you can talk," she said.
"Angela--wha-what's going on? What's happening?" he blurted out.
"Shut up!" she ordered, and instantly his mouth closed. "I have carefully constructed a little trap for you, Steven. A trap of lace, silk, nylon and satin. Stand up and come here." He obeyed. She pulled a pair of pink satin tap panties from her pocket and held them out before her. "You want these, Steven, more than you have ever wanted anything in your life. They represent everything desirable in the world--money, a beautiful woman, sex! Most of all sex."
She watched the hunger in his eyes as he gazed at the lovely pair of panties she waved before him. She watched his hands clutch and unclutch at his sides; he wanted to grab the panties from her but could not until she permitted it. Angela tossed the panties to the floor. "Pick them up and put them on."
Practically tearing off his pants and shorts, Steven picked up the panties and pulled them up his legs, settling them about his loins, rubbing their satiny softness against his cock and balls. "That's enough of that--stand still!" she commanded.
"Put your pants back on and leave for home. I will arrive precisely one hour behind you. By then, you are to have taken a bath and completely shaved your body, except for your head, of course. When I ring, you will greet me at the door dressed only in your panties. Now go!"
Steven pulled on his pants and mechanically walked out of the office. Angela sat on the edge of the desk and laughed. Well, Steven-- we'll soon find out what kind of a Stephanie you make!
That evening, dressed in a black leather corset, jacket and skirt, with sheer black nylons and six-inch heels, Angela rang Steven's doorbell. Within moments, the door swung open and there stood her once-masculine boss, body nearly as smooth and pink as the panties on his hips. His cock strained against the satin.
"Excellent," Angela commented. "Now, it's time to complete your transformation." She brought in the suitcase she carried and opened it. Inside was an array of feminine clothing of every kind, from prom gown to hooker's costume. Angela pulled out a set of pink lingerie that matched the panties her boss already wore and ordered him to put on the bra, garter belt and waltz-length slip. "This will do for now.
"Steven, in a few moments, I will order you to bed, dressed just as you are. While you are asleep, a new treatment of hormones and chemicals will begin, along with a set of sleep-learning commands. Within the week, you will be Stephanie whenever I want her."
She could see the look of surprise and fear that entered his eyes. And at the same time, a look of longing and want. He wanted this treatment more than he could ever say...whether that was latent desire or something created by the drugs in his system she could not say. But Angela was overjoyed to see both emotions--she wanted him to suffer in his new identity, but she also wanted him to desire it.
Moments later, Steven was carefully tucked into bed. Angela set up the intravenous line into his arm as she had been instructed, the line that would slowly drip a dilute solution of female hormones and drugs into his system. To increase his feelings of femininity and helplessness, she had thrust a vibrating dildo deep into his ass and tied him to the bed with satin scarves. She fitted the headphones over his ears and turned out the light. "Good night, Stephanie."
Once outside the room, she switched on the tape player. "Good evening, Stephanie," it began. "That is your name, unless Mistress Angela allows you to answer to another. You have no will of your own, only the ability to respond to Mistress Angela's commands. You desire to wear women's clothes in whatever fashion Mistress Angela suggests--and your mind will conform to the clothes you wear. Dressed as a French maid, you will be sexy, flirty and devoted to serving your Mistress. In the clothes of a hooker, you will be compelled to offer your body to any man with the money to pay for it. Dolled up as a little girl, you will act as if the Mistress were your Mommy and obey her in everything. Now sleep, these instructions will repeat later."
Angela turned off the speakers as the soft music faded in. Tomorrow would be Stephanie's debut!
No comments:
Post a Comment