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The Guinea Pig part 2
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
The Guinea Pig -- Part 2
by Ruth White
******
manner, to compensate for the oscillations of his tremendous buttocks
as he walked. He felt like his whole center of gravity had shifted.
Without his being aware of it, his gait had modified itself to
counterbalance his new distribution of mass.
Dr. van Damme and her chief plastic surgeon watched from her
office as Joe went about his morning toilet. "What are the changes you
want done to this one?" Inquired the surgeon.
"Just some minor detail work; the ears pinned back, the nose
bobbed and those little implants put in to give him those high sexy
cheekbones. I also want his eyes opened for more expression, and his
lips made as full as your skill allows."
"No problem there. I'm ready when you are."
"Good. In a couple of days then."
By now Joe had dried off, and Monica was giving him a rubdown
on the bed.
"You may find this interesting Doctor," said Dr. van Damme.
"What's that?"
"The subject is being applied an experimental medication that
will make us wealthy beyond our dreams. We have had great success
retarding the aging process using injections of fetal material,
however, many people objected on ethical grounds. The lab was able to
extract the compound that produced that result and was able to
synthesize it. Applied in a regimen of topical application it reverses
the effect of aging on the skin."
"I remember the millions that poured out for Retin-A which was
of dubious effectiveness," stated the surgeon.
"The money involved here will make that seem like a child's
kiddy bank. Take this subject for instance. For several months now his
skin has been replacing itself under the influence of female hormones.
It now has all the characteristics of female skin, but he is still
thirty-one years old. When his treatment is complete he will have the
skin texture of an eighteen year old girl."
"Mmmm. Interesting."
Joe relaxed and savored the tingling feeling that covered his
body. It was almost as if his skin was alive. He wondered if he would
get a chance to masturbate this morning. His cock and nipples
stiffened in anticipation.
Meanwhile ... Back in New York.
Joe Watson's son, Robert, confronted his newly
appointed guardian, Gloria Watson. "I don't care what the court
says, my father wanted you out of his life. Just because he never
changed his will doesn't give you the right to take over my life."
"Now Bob, that's no way to talk. It seems to me he didn't
want you cluttering up his life either. I understand that, except for
your support money and a birthday card once a year, you never saw or
heard from him. Let's put the past behind us and work through these
hard times together."
"Fuck you! Just wait till I get control of my money. I'll see
to it that you're finished in this town."
"Fine Bob. If that's how you want it ... "
CHAPTER
12
Joe awoke from a tortured dream, only to find his reality just
as severe. He couldn't open his eyes or move his lips. His throat
burned, his mouth was dry, and every part of his face ached. Just then
he felt the sting of a needle entering his arm, relief, and
Joe sipped his milkshake. That's all the nourishment he'd had
for some time now. He wore big braces on his teeth which prevented the
intake of more solid food. The pads had been removed from his eyes and
lips. He still couldn't speak.
Dr. van Damme, Monica, and several other people filed into his
room. One of the men went to work removing Joe's braces. "I've
straightened, capped, and evened his teeth up." Looking in Joe's
mouth, he said "They're flawless."
Dr. van Damme and another doctor looked at Joe's face
critically, the surgeon grabbing his head and turning it this way and
that.
"Exquisite Doctor. Once again you've outdone yourself," said
Dr. van Damme.
The surgeon acknowledged her compliment with a nod.
"So what do you have to say Joe?" asked Dr. van Damme.
Joe tried to tell her that he was fine but no matter what he
did, no sound came from his mouth.
"What's the matter Joe? Cat got your tongue?"
The crowd laughed.
By trying to hum Joe was finally able to produce a noise. It
was a high-pitched squeak.
"O.K., enough fooling around. What's wrong Joe, is that you've
been given a new larynx. Many people loose theirs to throat cancer
very year and an man made one that won't be noticed will allow
thousands to speak again and rejoin society. The only difficulty is
that the muscles that operate your new voice, function differently
from your old ones. Mrs. Johnson here will be your speech therapist
and teach you how to speak again."
The crowd departed and Joe was left alone for his first
session with Mrs. Johnson. As he tried to speak he noticed that, in
addition to his throat, his lips felt odd.
The following days reminded Joe of the movie "My Fair Lady".
He felt like Eliza Doolittle learning to speak. Not only that, but
after several weeks he spoke like her too! Not with a British accent,
but in a sweet soprano voice.
Two things about this latest development bothered Joe in
particular. First, he had to learn to operate new muscles to pronounce
each word. This was a long process and so far he had only the
vocabulary of a first grader, but Mrs. Johnson had told him that her
sessions with him were almost over. Secondly, he didn't like the
enunciation patterns that Mrs. Johnson had imparted to him; he now
spoke in the slow breathy drawl of a seductive young woman.
CHAPTER
13
One morning, Monica and another girl entered Joe's room. Joe
was wearing a pink satin chemise gown with spaghetti straps, trying to
ignore what was under it. His breasts had finally stopped growing, but
it was too late as far as Joe was concerned; the new appendages were
immense.
Joe didn't joke about needing a bra anymore. Now he wondered
when he'd be given one to take the considerable strain of supporting
the pendulous mammaries off of his pectoral muscles.
"Good morning Joe. This is Betsy. She's a cosmetologist and
will be working on you today."
Joe groaned inwardly. He'd suspected that this would happen
sooner or later. It seemed that every occurrence brought him closer to
Dr. van Damme's promised outcome.
Betsy fussed around Joe's face. He felt her applying make-up
to his lips, eyelids, and cheeks. When she was done, she took Joe's
picture. The process was repeated several times.
Betsy was talking with Dr. van Damme as Dave Weinstein,
Monica, and a strange man looked on.
"What color is his hair going to be," asked Betsy.
"Blonde." Replied Dr. van Damme. Thinking "As if we ever had a
choice."
"In that case, I'd recommend this style."
"That's too subdued. I had something a little more extreme in
mind."
"That we can do." Said Betsy, getting some colored markers and
making changes to the close-up photographs of Joe's made up face.
When she was finished Dr. van Damme smiled and nodded her approval.
"What do you think?" She asked the strange man.
Looking at the pictures, he replied, "No problem. Child's
play. I'll go get my gear ready."
After he left, Dr. van Damme addressed Dave Weinstein. "While
Joe is under for this, I want you to remove the block on his
transvestite programming."
"Please get up and come with me Joe."
Joe had been expecting lunch, which was late. Instead here was
Monica telling him to come with her. Too apprehensive to complain, Joe
swung out of bed, slipped on his high heeled mules, and grabbed a robe
which matched his chemise.
Joe tried to remain self-possessed as he followed Monica down
the hall, but was not very successful. He knew he presented a
spectacle; a bald man with the figure of a centerfold. Walking in his
high heels produced a loud racket which resounded throughout the
corridors. With each step his large breasts bounced awkwardly, the
nipples rubbing against his satin gown, providing unwanted
stimulation. He tried to straighten up and not swing his hips so
much. This made his breasts even more prominent and walking more
tedious.
They entered a room containing a bed and some unfamiliar
gadgets.
"Strip and lie down on the bed."
Joe shed his robe and chemise. He felt uneasy, not being aware
of his implanted need to conceal his breasts.
The strange man entered and Joe experienced intense
embarrassment and instinctively covered his breasts with his arms. He
was grateful when Monica covered him with a sheet, over which she
placed a plastic mat for protection.
Monica produced a gas mask. Knowing the futility of
resistance, Joe breathed deeply. As his awareness ebbed Joe saw the
man raise what looked like a dentists drill and attach a bottle of red
fluid to it.
"Wait a minute, that's a ... "
The tattooist turned on his needle and started to outline the
unconscious man's appealing lips. He thought to himself, "Real pretty,
this one's gonna be real pretty."
CHAPTER
14
It didn't take Joe's, now youthful, skin long to recover from
being dyed. While his face was still covered up, he was moved to a new
room. He saw it for the first time the morning Monica took off his
bandages. It was large, sunny, and finished in an extremely feminine
decor. Joe was delighted by his new room, although he didn't know
why.
"No more breakfast in bed for you." Monica told him.
"This morning you get dressed and eat in the cafeteria with
the rest of us peasants. Now go and wash up, while I lay out your
clothes."
Joe felt anticipation grow in him for some reason. "Hey, it's
not such a big deal, going out for breakfast," he told himself,
mistaking it's source.
There was no mirror in the bathroom, so Joe couldn't observe
the remodeling that had been done to his face. However, as he washed,
Joe could perceive some changes by touch; his nose felt smaller, his
lips were fleshy and appeared to project out, over teeth that didn't
seem to meet just right. He wondered about the tattooing on his face.
"I think I read somewhere that they can be removed by lasers,"
he thought to himself.
Then it occurred to Joe. "She's going to make me wear women's
clothing today."
He was surprised that the notion didn't trouble him. In fact,
he found the idea slightly pleasing. His worries over what had been
done to his face faded, as he thought about how Monica would dress
him.
Joe came out wearing only a robe. Monica handed him a pair of
pink satin and lace panties. Holding them up, Joe looked at them and
thought "these are going to be way too big for me." He pulled them up
his hairless legs and adjusted them around his hips. To his great
surprise, they were a perfect fit, except in the crotch where his cock
and balls were obvious by their outline. The panties delighted Joe. He
ran his hand over his ass, enjoying it's touch through the satin on
his soft skin.
"When I get out of here, I'm going to have some satin briefs
made for me," he decided.
Monica held up a matching bra. Joe stared at it, speculating
on how his breasts would look, supported in the sheer cups. Monica
showed Joe how to don the bra. She adjusted the straps so that his
breasts were supported, and at the same time, displayed to their best
advantage. At the same time, Monica was sure to follow Dave
Weinstein's instructions to caress Joe's breasts and cock whenever the
opportunity presented itself. "Wow, a D-cup, and it's a tight fit. He
better give up those candy bars." Monica thought to herself.
Joe marvelled at the sensation of his breasts in their
delicate confinement. He could view his nipples and aureoles clearly
through the lace cups. He found the sight thrilling and his cock
stirred inside his pretty panties.
Monica interrupted his thoughts."Sit down here Joe."
Motioning Joe to the chair, she held up a pair of what he
recognized as panty-hose.
"Here Joe. You'll have to be very careful putting these on
with those dragon-lady nails of yours. They're ultra-sheer and it
won't take much to put runs in them. You pull the legs up like this,
put your foot in; the seam goes across your toes, pull it up to your
thighs, then do the other leg."
Joe followed her instructions.
"Good. Now position the crotch and pull the panty smoothly
over your hips."
Joe stood there amazed at the feel of his legs encased in the
taupe colored nylon.
"Man, I didn't know girls clothes could be such a turn on."
Joe thought, not realizing he was talking aloud.
"Oh yes Joe. They can be so thrilling."
Joe admired the way his legs glistened in the delicate
hosiery, delighting in the sensations he felt and the sound his legs
made when they brushed each other.
Monica produced a slip, made of the same pink satin as Joe's
bra and panties, with a lacy bodice and hemline. She put it over his
head and let it slide down. Arranging the slip so that it hung
properly, she noticed that the profiles of Joe's excited nipples were
clearly discernible. The slip was a snug fit across Joe's broad hips
and Monica could see the outline of his stiff cock underneath it.
Looking in the large walk-in closet Monica was amazed at the
collection of clothing there; shoes, dresses, blouses, skirts, gowns,
everything a fashionable young woman could want. It was all custom
designed and made. She felt a momentary pang of jealousy which
vanished when she thought. "He'll never buy clothes off the rack. He's
a misses size ten with a size two waist and size fourteen bust and
hips."
Returning with a pair of red leather pumps, Monica slipped
them onto Joe's feet. "Wow. How does he do it? Those heels must be at
least five inches high." Monica thought, watching Joe maneuver
effortlessly in his pumps.
Monica held out Joe's first dress as he stepped into it.
Resistance was the furthest thing from his mind; the transvestite
programming had taken control and he was really getting into the swing
of dressing up.
Monica guided Joe's arms into the half sleeves and pulled the
dress up over him. Made of pink polyester with the look and feel of
satin, it was a jacquard knit with a floral pattern woven into the
material. Making sure that the slip was positioned, and after brushing
against Joe's nipples, Monica pulled up the zipper. The dress was a
tight fit across Joe's bust and hips.
The dress started with a high jewel neckline. Princess seaming
ran down the front, accenting Joe's large bust, ending in a peplum
that swaddled his womanly hips. The skirt of the pretty dress appeared
from under the peplum, continued to below Joe's knees, with a slit in
back so that he could walk. Monica buttoned the half-sleeves at Joe's
elbows.
Joe looked down. His forearms which had been tan, muscular,
and covered with wiry black hair were now pale white, slender, and
hairless. They extended from the sleeves to end in delicate hands with
long and luxurious fingernails.
Monica put a belt, covered in the same fabric as the dress,
around Joe's narrow waist and drew it tight. Joe was encased in satin
and was he ever turned on. Glancing down, he noticed his hard nipples,
their outline projecting through his clothing. Unable to resist, Joe
brought his hands up to his breasts and started kneading them. Excited
beyond reason, Joe dropped his right hand and caressed his cock under
his dress. This slight stimulation proved to be too much, as his cock
erupted and pumped it's load of cum into his panties.
Joe was dazed. Never before had he experienced such an erotic
rush. He stared at the expanding damp spot in his lap, then looked
sheepishly at Monica. In his sugary voice he stuttered "gee Monica.
I'm sorry. I didn't know ... "
Dr. van Damme and Dave had witnessed Joe's impulsive
ejaculation in his feminine costume.
"Well Dave, it looks like your program worked."
"Yes Doctor, but we are at a critical juncture here. You see
Joe's behavior is characteristic of a transvestite, as we wanted. The
problem with this is, once a transvestite has experienced relief
through orgasm he feels guilty. All he wants to do is get out of the
clothes and forget about them until the next episode. We planned for
this and think we can interrupt the pattern.
Back in the room, Monica smiled sweetly at Joe. "Don't get
upset Joe."
Taking him by the shoulders, she forced him to look her in the
eyes. "What happened to you is perfectly normal. Sexy clothing can be
such a turn on. Now let's get you cleaned up."
Monica reached down and undid the belt. Turning Joe around,
she unzipped his dress, eased it over his shoulders, and let it slide
down his body into a soft pile around his feet. She repeated the
process with his slip and it joined his dress on the floor.
Joe stepped out of the pile of clothing and turned around to
face Monica. She placed her fingers under the waistbands of Joe's
panty-hose and panties. Going to her knees, Monica pulled Joe's
lingerie over his hips and down to his ankles.
To Joe's great surprise, Monica started licking the cum from
his abdomen; she had never before shown the slightest interest in
intimacy with him.
Monica took his wilted cock in her mouth and Joe felt himself
becoming aroused by her ministrations. His cock tried to stiffen and
his nipples got hard. Monica sucked his balls and cock entirely into
her mouth and played with them with her tongue. She felt Joe's cock
start to get hard and released it from her mouth. She had Joe slip off
his pumps and remove his hose and panties. Joe stood there wearing
only his bra. He wished the pretty blonde would resume the blowjob.
She didn't.
Monica gave Joe a dressing gown to put on, which he did. He
was handed his hose and panties. "These have to be cleaned before the
cum dries in them," Monica informed him. "There is a bottle of
detergent for hand washing delicate fabrics under the sink. Follow the
instructions, roll them up in towel, then hang them over a bar to dry.
I'll take your dress and slip to the laundry and lay out some other
clothing."
As he washed out his lingerie, Joe found his thoughts
concentrating on what clothing Monica would dress him in next. He
found the contemplation exciting. "Damn," he thought, "What is it
about women's clothing?"
Joe doesn't know it yet," said Dave to Dr. van Damme, "but
from now on he'll find donning and wearing women's clothing to be
extremely arousing sexually."
"That's excellent," said Dr. van Damme. "Because that's all
he'll ever wear.
"Well, at least he has the body for it." rejoined Dave.
CHAPTER
15
"Take off your robe and bra," directed Monica.
Joe's inevitable modesty asserted itself. "Can't I leave it
on? It didn't get messed."
"Joe, as you learn to wear the clothing for which your body
has been designed, you'll find that, unlike your men's underwear,
different types of lingerie go with different outfits. What's right
with one, is inappropriate for another. Now get that bra off!"
Joe struggled with his long nails and the unfamiliar bra
fastening in the small of his back.
"I'd like to help you" thought Monica, "but you've got to
learn to manage in your new attire."
Joe got the clasp released and his breasts spilled out of the
bra's lacy embrace. He stood there naked, holding his bra in one hand
with his other arm across his chest.
"What a feminine pose," thought Monica.
Monica went through the dresser. "There doesn't seem to be
another pair of panty-hose," she lied. "I wonder what we can do?"
Trying to pretend as though this had not been meticulously
planned, Monica pawed through the drawers. "Ah, that's it."
Monica held out what looked like a black piece of lace with
strips hanging down. Joe recognized it as a garter belt. His wife
Gloria would never wear one, but some of his conquests had. Joe
blushed at thought of wearing the sexy garment yet, at the same time,
he found the idea thrilling.
Monica fastened the tiny garment around his slim waist,
adjusting it so that the garters hung down in the proper position.
"Sit down Joe."
He did, and she handed him a pair of sheer black stockings.
"Now carefully roll these up, fit the seam across your toes,
and then very carefully roll them up your leg."
Joe did as he was told with the first one. Monica demonstrated
how to connect the two garters. Joe put on the other stocking and got
the garters attached. Joe stood up and Monica took the slack out of
the suspenders, so that the stockings were held securely on his
shapely legs.
"What an odd sensation." Thought Joe, walking around to get
the hang of wearing a garter belt and nylons. He felt the garter belt
tight above his hips, unable to slip down, and the suspenders flexing
on his thighs as he walked, ensuring that his hose would stay smooth.
"Here Joe, put this on."
Monica handed him a white bra. Joe put it on as he had been
shown previously. Hooking the bra up backwards, turning it around, and
then pulling it up over his breasts.
Joe immediately became aware of several differences; the cups
were not see through, but the profile of his nipples were unmistakable
as they pushed out against the nylon cups, there were inflexible
semi-circles under each cup, and the straps did not come over the top,
but rather down the side of each breast.
The bra provided firm support so his breasts wouldn't bounce
around uncontrollably, but at the same time it pushed Joe's titties
together, holding them up and out. Joe eyed the resulting cleavage. It
shocked him that there was so much of it, but secretly thrilled him.
As was evidenced by his semi-erect cock.
Monica held out what Joe thought were panties to match the
garter belt. He stepped into them and she pulled them up, over his
nylon covered legs. It wasn't a panty, but a very brief black satin
and lace bikini.
Monica adjusted it so that it rode on his hips. Joe's balls
were very tightly compressed, being forced up by the tight satin
crotch panel, which wasn't designed to hold them. Joe's erect cock was
held tightly against his abdomen, but the black lace wouldn't stretch
to cover the head of it.
"... Ah, Monica, maybe I should tuck it back between my
legs?"
"Why Joe, whatever would you want to do that for?"
"You know ... to hide it."
"Why? You're a man. Aren't you?"
"Yes, but ... "
"It still works, as you demonstrated earlier. Perhaps you'd
like me to ask Dr. van Damme to have it removed?"
The suggestion chilled Joe. His cock and balls were the last
discernible evidence of his manhood.
"That crazy doctor won't cut them off, will she?" wailed Joe
in his girlish voice.
"Now Joe. How do I know what Dr. van Damme has in store for
you?" lied the pretty nurse.
Joe was really panicked. "Please don't let her cut my balls
off. Please get her to let me keep them."
Monica looked at the pretty man as he wept; her teasing him
had gotten out of hand. She had to get him re-interested in dressing.
"O.K. Joe. I promise you, that I'll see to it, that you'll get
to keep your precious little balls."
Anxious to get the plan back on track, Monica held up a
sleeveless white silk blouse. Joe slipped his arms through the
delicate garment and Monica buttoned it up the back.
Joe looked down. The square necked blouse opened up about
half-way up his breasts, their creamy white tops were revealed, and
the cleavage created by Joe's underwire bra left nothing to any
onlookers imagination. The blouse was taut across Joe's bust. He
noticed the outline of his nipples projecting out against the silk.
"Is everything they make me wear going to fit like this?"
wondered Joe.
Monica handed Joe a pair of black patent leather pumps. Joe
sat down to put them on. Looking at the spike heels, he was amazed
that he could even stand up in them, let alone walk around.
Monica held out a black skirt as Joe stepped into it, then
tugged it up over his hips. It was a very tight fit. Joe had to stand
with his legs and knees pressed together, so she could get it up,
which only intensified the pressure on his already aching balls. The
skirt was made of black taffeta lined with acetate. Joe liked the way
it felt, but how could he walk in it. "Aren't skirts supposed to have
a slit in the back," he asked to himself.
Once in position, the skirt fell to his knees. Monica
struggled to get the zipper up over his ass. Finally it was up. Joe
looked down; he was mortified. The skirt was so tight that it outlined
everything under-neath it. Not only could he see a panty line and
the clips of his garters, but the profile of his balls and erect cock
were clearly outlined by the tight skirt as it pushed them up against
his body.
While Joe was considering his appearance, Monica wrapped a
wide black patent belt around his waist and cinched it tight. It only
contrasted the slender waist between his bust and hips. From a large
chest on the dresser, Monica selected some jewelry and handed Joe a
necklace of ebony beads and a matching bracelet.
Joe put them on. The bracelet dangled over his left hand and
the necklace settled in between his breasts, the black beads drawing
further attention to his creamy white cleavage. It was a weird
feeling, to have a necklace resting atop his breasts.
"Don't move Joe," said Monica.
She was holding what looked like large hoops of polished
ebony. Joe noticed that the circles didn't quite meet, but ended in a
little pin. He recognized them as earrings for pierced ears.
"What the ... " Joe said as Monica fiddled with his right
ear. He felt the post slide through a hole he hadn't known was there,
then a slight pinching sensation as the clasp was fastened. Monica let
the large earring dangle and Joe felt the weight of it pull down on
his earlobe. She had him put the other one in, moving it about until
he found the hole.
Monica gave Joe a black patent clutch. "What do I need this
for?" he asked.
"To carry your things in. In case you haven't noticed, your
skirt doesn't have any pockets."
"Well what sort of things do I have to carry around?'
"Not any make-up that's for sure, you silly boy," thought
Monica. Instead of telling him that she answered. "You never know
Joe. Let's start with a handkerchief."
She got a lacy hankie from the dresser and handed it to him.
"Come on Joe, let's go, before breakfast is over."
"Uh, Monica isn't there something else?"
"Why yes there is Joe. How silly of me to forget it."
She reached in the pocket of her uniform and pulled out a tag.
It read: HELLO, MY NAME IS JOSEPH WATSON.
Monica attached it to the neckline of his blouse, right
between his breasts.
This, coupled with the conspicuous display of his breasts and
male organs, was to much for Joe.
He started to weep. "I meant, don't I get a wig to wear?" "Why
would you want to wear a wig Joe?"
"So I don't look so foolish."
"Well, I'm afraid Dr. van Damme wants you to appear as you
are, but I can assure you that you will have hair soon enough. Now
come on!"
The embarrassed man tried to follow her, but he could hardly
walk. By trial and error he figured out how to move; taking short
mincing steps with his legs pressed together, and moving mostly below
the knees. This delicate stride made his hips sway, even more than
they normally did, and his ass swing in a wide arc.
The sensations of wearing tight revealing feminine clothes
weren't the only things turning Joe on. The sounds he made as he
walked did also; his high heels clicked out a staccato beat which
echoed down the passageway, his nylon sheathed legs rubbed together
with a dainty sound, his skirt made delicious undertones as his
stockings slithered against the lining, and the swish, produced by the
friction between the lining and taffeta, as his hips gyrated in their
confining embrace.
Not only that but, pressed tightly between his tight skirt and
abdomen, Joe's cock was stimulated by the skirt shifting, every time
his hips moved.
Joe thought, "I'd better be careful, or I'll shoot a load in
these clothes too."
CHAPTER
16
Joe wondered why he hadn't drawn any attention in the
cafeteria. "Surely, I must have been a sight," he thought.
Joe didn't know that there were two good reasons for his not
causing a commotion; Dr. van Damme's staff was well trained not to
display interest in anything out of the ordinary, and they had all
seen more outlandish creatures than Joe Watson result from the
Doctor's experiments.
Monica hadn't allowed Joe his customary huge breakfast,
instead limiting him to cereal, skim milk, and fresh fruit.
Patting his taffeta wrapped behind Joe thought. "That's O.K.
I certainly don't need to put any more weight on."
Joe worried about how he would get it off, once he was
liberated from the island.
Back in his new room, Joe sat in a chaise lounge. He tried to
adjust his position so as to relieve the pressure on his testicles.
He felt very vulnerable with them exposed and constricted the way they
were. The strain on them did not abate and any movement merely caused
further discomfort. He found out that sitting still caused him the
least suffering.
The room was equipped with a television. Turning it on, Joe
observed nothing but soap operas. There were some magazines in a
holder by his chair. He looked through them. They were all fashion and
women's magazines; Cosmopolitan and the like. Joe had a sinking spell
when he saw the dates on them; he'd been here quite awhile.
Bored, he picked up an issue of Vogue and started thumbing
through it. Before long his transvestite inclinations had taken over.
Looking at a particularly charming evening gown, Joe thought to
himself. "I wonder how I would look in that?"
Just then Monica entered his room. "Get up Joe, you've got an
appointment."
"For what?"
"Don't you worry about that. Just get moving."
Joe tapped down the hall in his heels, attempting to keep up
with Monica in his restrictive apparel. Joe followed Monica into what
looked like a lecture hall. There was a chair in front surrounded by
machinery.
"Sit in the chair Joe."
Joe obeyed,and his aching balls were squeezed even more as he
settled his plump behind into the chair. Monica tightened straps
around his ankles, lap, waist, wrists, arms, and above his breasts. A
strap around his neck pulled him hard against the back of the chair,
but there was no headrest or support. Monica rubbed some lotion all
over his bald head.
"What's this? The electric chair?" he joked.
Monica didn't answer. Instead, she produced a ball gag, forced
it between his lips, and tied it in place. The lotion was then applied
to his forehead and eyelids.
People came in, seated themselves throughout the room, and
talked quietly among themselves. The room was almost full when Dr.
van Damme entered with a man. Joe recognized him as the Doctor who had
given him his fingernails. The group hushed as Dr. van Damme
introduced Dr. Brenner then sat down.
"Has the desensitizing agent been applied to the subject?" The
Doctor asked Monica.
"Yes sir."
"Good."
He pulled a piece of the equipment out, turned it on, and
swung it out on an extension over Joe's head.
"This is a further refinement of my work with the acrylics
that produced the subject's fingernails. First I turn on the laser and
outline the area to be covered."
As he talked he rotated the machine completely around Joe,
keeping it focused on his head.
"The outline is stored in the computer's memory. Then I just
turn it on like this."
There was a humming noise, not unlike a sewing machine, and
Joe could feel a vibration in his head.
"The color is selected, the machine mixes it, and then
extrudes it as a fiber which is randomly varied in cross-section and
color for a natural appearance. Select the length carefully because,
like the fingernails, once it's formed it's forever. The strands won't
burn, fade, can't be cut or dyed, but at least you don't have to worry
about split ends. Otherwise, the fibers are indistinguishable from
organic hair. They need to be washed, regular shampoo will do, and
sprays and gels will control the strands allowing them to be styled in
any manner. I think what I have here is the ultimate in hair
replacement."
Joe worked at his gag. "What are they doing to me now?"
"The newly formed fiber, before it solidifies, is connected to
a needle and inserted into the skull where, once it sets, it is
anchored permanently and can't be pulled out."
The machine hummed on.
After awhile it stopped. The Doctor moved another unit to the
front of Joe's face.
"To replace hair not on the scalp, this device allows the
fibers to be secured in the skin, much like a hair root. Also, like
natural hair, these strands can be pulled out, but I understand that
it's quite painful."
The Doctor aimed the light at Joe's forehead twice then turned
it on. Joe felt a sensation of pressure on his forehead over each eye
and then it was done.
"As you can see the length, color, and thickness are totally
variable."
The machine stopped. The Doctor examined Joe's face. Joe saw
the Doctor peek down at his cleavage, and felt a twinge of shame.
There was more than a professional interest in the Doctor's eyes.
Was it desire?
The Doctor grabbed Joe's right eyelid and pulled it out. Using
tweezers to grasp it, he moved the unit over to engage and clamp down
on it.
"The machine even allows for individual detail work."
The machine buzzed slowly and Joe felt a tugging on his
eyelid. The process was repeated on his bottom lid and then the left
eye.
The small machine was pulled away.
Joe blinked. His eyelids were heavy and he felt lashes brush
on his cheek.
"What have they done to my eyes?" he thought.
The Doctor spoke. "Now that the main unit is finished we can
open the accumulator."
There was a click and Joe felt a weight on his head. He
couldn't see it, but he experienced the odd sensation of mass pulling
on his scalp.
The Doctor was congratulated by his fellows and they all
departed, leaving Joe and Monica alone.
Monica came up and released his bonds. "See I told you you'd
have hair soon enough. Now you have to worry about taking care of it."
Joe's gag was removed and the restraints released. Standing
up, he felt the unfamiliar sensation of hair brushing against his neck
and shoulder blades. Joe reached up and touched an enormous mass of
hair. He pulled a handful forward over his shoulder. It was the color
of gold.
He was a blonde.
PERMANENTLY!
Joe ran his long red fingernails through his long blonde hair.
The transvestite in him loved it. He pulled more over. Hair covered
the tops of his breasts and Joe could feel his new tresses hanging
down his back, almost to his waist.
Incredulous, Joe followed Monica back to his room. She left
him sitting on the chaise, still gazing at handfuls of his magnificent
blonde hair. After awhile, Joe recovered from this blow only to get
another; a full-length mirror had been positioned on the wall on the
other side of the room. Joe just looked at it, afraid to go over and
see his reflection. Finally his curiosity overcame his misgivings and
the trembling man shut his eyes and walked over in front of the
mirror.
Opening his eyes, Joe saw the most desirable woman he had ever
laid eyes on. Completely astounded, he stared at her. The girl in
the mirror appeared to be about twenty or twenty-one. Long blonde
hair framed a oval face. Her eyebrows were narrow semi-circles,
arching highly above provocative green eyes. Long lashes, thick with
mascara, curved out from lids lined heavily in black. The blue shadow
on the eyelids darkened to purple in the eye crease, then softened, as
it rose, to become silver under the eyebrows.
The pert nose and high cheekbones added refinement to her
face. Her skin was soft and ivory colored, except for rosy red cheeks.
Opulent red lips smiled sweetly at him and begged to be kissed. In
back of them, perfect white teeth sparkled. "That's me." Joe cried.
The only familiar reference was his green eyes, but even they
were different; more open and wider as if he viewed the world in
perpetual wonder. And those lips!
"But I'm not smiling," thought Joe.
The cosmetic surgery which had made his lips full and
protruding had somehow formed his mouth into a permanent smile. Joe
noticed that the bright red lip color matched his nails, and that his
make-up was a trifle on the heavy side. "Wait a minute," he thought.
"I don't have any make-up on."
"That's tattooed on my skin!"
Joe's panic was short lived as he stood there and stared at
himself. He loved this babe whose image the mirror reflected and he
lusted for her. Meanwhile the transvestite in his mind relished how
sensual he looked. Joe became more and more aroused the longer he
studied his reflection in the mirror. He had been reconstructed to
look like a girl from one of his sexual fantasies. He couldn't believe
it.
Joe's tiny feet were perched on black patent high heels.
Shapely legs, encased in sheer black nylons, disappeared into the
tight skirt which defined the contours of his broad hips which were
further emphasized by the wide belt wrapped around his infinitesimal
waist.
Joe's massive breasts strained against his silken blouse
revealing an expanse of cleavage guaranteed to arouse the interest of
any man who hadn't been dead for over an hour. A beautiful face, long
blonde hair, slim arms, and graceful hands with their long red
fingernails completed a vision of loveliness; Joe was every inch a
stunning and desirable young woman.
Except for those inches outlined under his tight skirt!
Joe gazed at his reflection. His arousal grew until finally,
without a touch, he ejaculated into his tight taffeta skirt.
Released from his enchantment, Joe removed his belt then tried
to get his tight skirt off. It was tough going; getting the zipper
down over his rounded ass, what with the long nails and all.
Eventually he got it down, peeled the skirt off, stepped out of it,
and threw it in the hamper.
Joe saw the advantage now of the bikini he wore. Since the
head of his cock was not covered, he had come into the skirt, and his
panties were unsoiled. There was some gooey residue on his abdomen
however, and Joe went to the bathroom to get a tissue and wipe it off.
Once there though, Joe could only stare at the cum on his
belly. He found himself filled with an overpowering need to taste it.
Joe placed the tip of his right index finger in the sticky goo, then
brought it to his red lips. His tongue snaked out and licked it.
"Hmm." It tasted salty and somehow familiar.
Joe rubbed the fingers of his other hand in the sticky mess
and brought it to his mouth. Hungrily he lapped his cum of off his
fingers loving every drop of it.
"What's going on?" Joe wondered. Why did he find eating his
cum so satisfying?
Joe decided that his body craved salt because of the lack of
it in his diet. His chagrin alleviated by this bogus rationalization,
Joe repeated his actions, alternating hands and sucking on each finger
until it was clean. Somehow still compelled by his mysterious hunger,
Joe returned to his bedroom.
Joe walked to the hamper. He didn't want to do this but was
powerless to resist. Slowly, he reached into the hamper and withdrew
his soiled skirt. Turning it inside out, he raised it to his lips, and
hesitantly licked at the damp lining. Joe could taste his cum. He drew
the material into his mouth and sucked at it vigorously. "What's
happening to me," he wondered. He didn't really want to be doing this
but something inside his mind forced him on.
"Is all this dressing and looking like a woman making me act
like one?" Joe asked himself.
Joe sat on the chaise lounge feeling silly. He'd tried to
remove his blouse but couldn't reach the buttons in back, so he
remained as he was; half dressed.
Monica entered. She knew what had transpired, having watched
the interlude from Dr. van Damme's office. "Let's get you undressed
Joe."
"What should I wear to dinner?"
Monica wanted to say: "You've just had your dinner. Do you
really want some more," but instead said "it's too late for dinner,
but I'll get you a snack when your ready for bed."
Joe removed his jewelry. Monica unbuttoned the blouse and Joe
shucked it off and put it in the hamper. Joe removed his shoes and
placed them in the closet, removed his bikini, undid the garters,
unhooked the garter belt and took it off. Joe removed his bra and
stockings and went to the hamper with his lingerie.
"Wait a minute Joe. You have to wash your undies out by hand
every night."
Handing him a short nightie, Monica said, "Clean them like you
did your panties and hose this morning."
Joe put on the nightie to cover his breasts.
When he was done and had hung his underwear up to dry, he
returned to the bedroom where Monica was waiting for him. Holding out
a sandwich and glass of milk she said, "here eat this then get in
bed."
After eating, and when Monica had left, Joe lay in bed,
enjoying the luxuriousness of the satin sheets. He decided he liked
the way his head nestled in the bulk of his blonde hair.
Joe didn't get dressed the next day. Monica brought him his
breakfast, then Betsy arrived. Joe spent the day with her learning to
care for his new hair. Betsy showed him how to wash, dry, and style
it, trying to make Joe feel good about what had been done to his
appearance. "Just think Joe, you'll never have to get a haircut." Or,
"Think of the time you'll save not having to spend hours putting on or
removing cosmetics."
TO BE CONITUED
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