by Tom Tame
"Yes," Mister Zebra whispered, and it was almost as if his voice were being born inside Mark's head.
"You're feeling it now, aren't you?"
He was, and he was beyond speech. It was simply indescribable. It wasn't the pills. He'd become somewhat
accustomed to the dreamy, happy, eager to follow effect of the pills. This was different. This was magic. This was
like an electric current flowing between Mister Zebra and him, his heart, his trapped cock, his entire body.
"That's okay," Mister Zebra whispered, so quietly he barely made a sound. "I'm feeling it, too. You can tell,
can't you? I understand what you are feeling, the little struggle to keep being a boy, even as you sink further into
being a girl. Let that struggle go for now. It's too difficult anyway. It keeps you from being happy, keeps you from
pleasure. Look where you are. Look what I've done to you. With just a few simple words, you're on your knees with
your pretty little head just swimming, and you know that makes me feel powerful. The more powerful I feel, the
more power you give me, the less you have, the less you want. Isn't that so?"
Mark nodded. He moved his lips, aware of the tackiness of his pink lipstick. He couldn't seem to speak. He
couldn't seem to think. His body was humming, vibrating with anticipation, with excitement. He wanted. He wanted.
He wanted. He just wanted. He didn't know what he wanted; it was a simple yearning that kept burning and burning
and burning.
Mister Zebra no longer spoke in a whisper. His voice had tone, and it was deep and commanding and Mark
shivered from just the sound of it. "Lean closer."
After a moment, where his mind spent time deciphering Mister Zebra's words, he leaned forward. Mister
Zebra's pants were before him, his zipper, and something rather tense pushing toward him from beneath the fine
material.
"Closer."
He did so, coming within a hair's breadth. He couldn't think about what he was doing. He couldn't think at
all. He could only feel the racing of his heart, the burning of his cheeks, how his lips desperately needed licking.
"Breathe deeply. Breathe me in. That's me. That's my scent flowing into your nose. That is the musk of an
aroused man. When it enters a girl's mind, it makes certain connections with her body, prepares her to be touched,
used, pleasured. When it enters the mind of a girl like you, it pushes everything that is not a girl away, leaving her
raw and naked and receptive. Keep breathing. Nice and deep. Can you smell me? Can you feel what smelling me is
doing to you?"
In the silence of the room, Mark became aware of the crackle of a fire. He became aware of the rustle of
Mister Zebra's clothes, of the sound of his own breathing, panting. He felt the need to nod, and accidentally brushed
his nose against Mister Zebra's pants, against his crotch. He could smell Mister Zebra, musky and strong.
"Close your eyes. Just for a moment."
Mark let out a long, slow exhale and let his eyelids flutter closed. There was more rustling of clothing.
There was the slow sound of a zipper. If the urge to escape appeared in his mind, it made no connection. That urge
was being felt by someone else, a boy that would think this was wrong.
He felt the presence of something hot near his cheek and without meaning to leaned toward it, until it made
contact. Yes, it was hot, like a strong red hot poker, but it was warm like flesh and now the aroma of Mister Zebra's
oily musk was overpowering. Mark began to pant quietly, lips parted. He was a single raw nerve, so easily
disturbed, so easily pleasured with the slightest breeze. He began to rub his cheek on Mister Zebra's cock, back and
forth. He heard Mister Zebra panting as well. He fell into a gentle rhythm, brushing the soft skin of his cheek against
the hot skin of Mister Zebra's cock, until he soon found himself turning his head and rubbing it on the small space
between his nose and his upper lip.
Mister Zebra withdrew slightly. Mark's eyelids fluttered. "Keep your eyes closed." Mark's eyelids stopped
fluttering.
Mark's face was magically compelled to tilt up as if drawn by Mister Zebra's voice. Mister Zebra laid the
underside of his cock on Mark's blushing cheek. He slowly drew it down until the tip of it dropped easily to Mark's
pink lips.
Mark parted his lips to draw a breath, a panting, erratic breath. There was something moist and slippery on
the tip of Mister Zebra's cock and now it was slick and wet on his lips.
Mister Zebra began to chant softly, "Good girl . . . good girl . . . be a good girl."
Mark opened his eyes and saw the shaft, stiff and aching. Somewhere very far away alarm bells were
ringing, but they were too distant to notice. There was no mistaking what was expected of him. He parted his lips
further, the musky cologne of Mister Zebra's arousal drawing him closer, breathing deeply in, always in, gently
testing the boiling waters with his tongue, placing it just beneath--
The door cracked open. The thuds of high heels on carpet resounded throughout the room. "Where did that
silly girl run off to?"
It was Tatiana's voice.
With horror, Mark realized where he was. With horror, Mark realized what he was about to do. He jumped
to his feet and almost fell over because of the heels. Mister Zebra's hand shot out and grabbed him by the arm,
saving him from tumbling over backwards.
Tatiana's eyes went wide with shock. A moment later, after she'd taken it all in, she laughed and covered
her mouth with her hands. "Oh! Oh my!"
Mark blinked and blinked and shook his head. "No! No, it's not--we weren't--"
Tatiana looked at Mister Zebra and curtsied with a blush. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."
Mister Zebra grinned. The anger that had flared momentarily was already dissipating. "It's okay. It was
unexpected for all of us. They don't usually succumb so easily."
Tatiana grinned at Mark who was busy fidgeting and squirming and making his cheeks scarlet. "Oh, she's
very special. I hope I didn't, um, ruin your fun, Mister Zebra."
He laughed. "I can wait. This one won't take long. She'll be in a black uniform in no time."
Mark hurried toward the door, but Tatiana's voice planted his feet before he could escape. "Wait there for
me."
He blushed and he blushed. He couldn't think of anything else to do.
With a soft voice, Tatiana turned her attention back to Mister Zebra. "Is there anything I can do for you,
Mister Zebra?"
He grinned. "Perhaps later. Is she alone?"
Tatiana snapped her fingers and Mark begrudgingly answered, coming to stand by her side, unable to meet
anyone's gaze. Why couldn't he break away from this place? "She has a wife, I'm afraid."
Mister Zebra's eyes sparkled. "She's new?"
"Yes, Mister Zebra. Her name is Sophia."
Sophia. How had Mark forgotten about her? His reason for living, his reason for being here. What would
Sophia think if she found out--
"Yes, I saw her earlier. She's dying to get out of that little blue uniform and into something substantial.
Black hair, blue eyes, creamy skin, curvy?"
Tatiana curtsied. "Yes, Mister Zebra."
He collected his cigar from the ashtray and rolled it between his lips, giving it a little suck. "Yes.
Interesting. Delicious. Perhaps I can help her along. Perhaps I can help them both along."
Tatiana curtsied. "Will be there anything else, Mister Zebra?"
"Not just now." He sat in the chair and cup
ped the snifter of Brandy in his palm. "Perhaps later though.
You'll be a good girl and come by and see."
Tatiana blushed and curtsied. "Yes, Mister Zebra."
She turned and wrapped her hand around Mark's upper arm, intending to draw him away, but Mark
whispered, "He touched me."
Tatiana stopped. "What did you say?"
"I--I said he--he's not supposed to touch me. I'm in pink, but he did."
Tatiana took a deep breath and turned back to Mister Zebra.
"I think you'll find," Mister Zebra offered before Tatiana could pose the question, "that it was the other way
around." He gazed sternly at Mark. "It was you who touched me. Was it not?"
Tatiana questioned Mark with her eyes. Mark's face burned hot red. She sighed. "Well, I'm glad that's dealt
with."
Outside, she paused just long enough to slap Mark across the face. As soon as he'd recovered, as soon as
she saw the first tear trickle down his cheek, she wrapped her arms tenderly around his neck and kissed him deeply.
He was lost in the wetness of her lips, the swirl of their tongues and when the kiss ended, he gazed at her and
realized he was just simply lost in every sense of the word. "I--I can't take anymore. P-please."
Tatiana grinned and played with his curls. "Mister Zebra is right. You won't even last a week."
Maid in Form
Sophia smiled at him and rubbed his nipples. Her thumbs made their little circuits and he watched her pretty
lips move. She was speaking, but he wasn't paying attention. He was only moaning softly. Pleasure was a hot bathe
in which he was immersed, relaxed and receptive, knowing he could only savor all the ecstasy that occurred before
orgasm, because the orgasm never came.
It had been a long day, and not for the first time he was eager to lose himself in the joy of Sophia's touch.
She rubbed the stinging ointment into his breasts and it sank deep into his flesh. Once again, he could feel his chest
swelling, and as it did, his nipples became so much more sensitive. After the redness faded, after his nipples and the
flesh around them no longer burned, his skin became soft and tingly. His breasts were feeling bigger every day and
they never really shrank back down to their normal size anymore, but it felt so good when Sophia rubbed them that
he was finding it difficult to complain.
"Miss Lydia says you're becoming a good girl. Miss Lydia says you're growing your breasts nice and big
and soft for her."
It was true. He was doing it for Sophia. He was doing it for Miss Lydia. He was doing it for Tatiana.
Especially he was doing it for Tatiana, because of what she'd seen. She'd never so much as hinted that she might tell
Sophia, but he knew there was nothing stopping her.
He was on his best behavior with Tatiana from then on. He no longer resisted her. Every time her gaze fell
upon him, her eyes twinkled with the image of him on his knees in the parlor with Mister Zebra's cock mere inches
from his lips.
He followed her around and complied with her every whim. She could be as cold and as bossy and as cruel
to him as she wanted. What could he say? What could he do? She tested him constantly, he thought, fishing for
resistance. She found none. He barely spoke any more. He only curtsied incessantly, blushed feverishly and agreed
with everything she said. "Yes, Miss Tatiana. No, Miss Tatiana."
In the morning, Sophia awoke him by rubbing his nipples and whispering to him. She fed him his pills and
minutes later he felt the familiar pleasure of his thoughts dulling as if swimming through cotton. They showered,
dressed and put on their makeup together, but mostly he stared at her dreamily, feeling utterly delighted when she
smiled back.
What started as a little joke, became a habit. He curtsied to her as he did with Tatiana. He addressed her the
same way. "Yes, Miss Sophia. Right away, Miss Sophia."
He served the guests and stood quietly with his head bowed whenever they teased him. "You're far too
pretty to be in a pink uniform. Are you sure you aren't really a girl?"
"Yes, Sir."
"You're more feminine than my daughters. Were you always this way?"
"No, Ma'am."
He did not see Mister Zebra again, and he was certainly on the lookout for him. He planned to avoid him at
all costs. He couldn't wrap his mind around how Mister Zebra had so easily manipulated him. He remembered the
bartender's warning, He can be very persuasive. He remembered bringing Mister Zebra his cigar and his Brandy.
Beyond that, it was like a dream that shifted from one scene to another, making sense while you were in it, but
utterly confusing through hindsight.
"She's so adorable. Is that a wig?"
Tatiana fiddled with his hair. "No, it's hers."
Mark stood there being talked about again as if he were a mere doll. He blushed and bowed his head and
remained quiet. The pressure between his legs increased: his cock trapped in the gaffe struggled (and failed) to
grow. It was getting so that he only felt that little aroused pressure when Tatiana, Sophia or the guests spoke down to
him. It was getting so that he craved to be spoken to that way, as if he were nothing but a weepy girl everyone loved
to tease.
"Is she growing it out?"
"Oh, yes," Tatiana laughed and used her finger to lift Mark's chin. It was so much worse when he had to
meet their eyes. He tried to keep his eyes lowered, but Tatiana snapped her fingers. He stared at the woman who was
displaying a keen interest in him. The humiliation was complete and it roared like a jet engine in his ears. "Soon her
hair will be as long as mine. I'm thinking to dye it blonde."
The woman giggled. "She'll look like a tart."
Tatiana tilted her face sideways and smirked, studying his expression. "She will, da." Tatiana's eyes had a very clear message: I can do anything I want to you.
Mark felt the urge to curtsy and respond, "Yes, Miss Tatiana."
"And how do you make her breasts look so real?"
"Oh! They are real. See?"
Tatiana rubbed one of Mark's nipples. It was unexpected. He was used to having them stroked in the
morning and in the evening by Sophia, but here in front of everyone without any forewarning, it was as if she'd
clicked his "ON" button.
He gasped, his knees trembling. He panted and clutched at his skirt. He moaned loudly and squirmed and
arched his back and squeezed his thighs together as lightning bolts of pure pleasure shot through his body. He knew
his nipples were becoming sensitive, but this was almost too much.
The woman laughed and blushed. "Oh my. I wish my breasts gave me that kind of pleasure."
Tatiana's eyes snapped to the woman. "Oh, they could if you wished. We have little ointment we rub to
make them very full of pleasure. Perhaps I can help?"
The woman grinned. "I'd rather play with hers and have a little fun."
Tatiana sighed and stared dreamily into Mark's eyes. "If only you could, but pink uniform means no
touching by guests."
Tatiana pinched Mark's nipple. A flash of pain brought him nearly to his knees. She slipped her hand inside
the shelf bra of his uniform and began to tenderly roll his nipple between his fingers. He fell against Tatiana's soft,
sweet smelling body and panted desperately, nearly hyperventilating. He felt his cock squirt a little ooze of precum
inside his gaffe. The sensations coursing and surging and pulsing through him were unbelievable.
"That's easily fixed," the wom
an offered. "Just have him change uniforms."
Tatiana's sharp-eyed grin only heightened his terrible arousal, an arousal that would only ever be a deep
utterly overwhelming craving. He'd nearly forgotten what it was like to truly climax. The days of exploding and
cumming his sticky squirty mess all over Sophia's belly were so distant, he could barely remember them. " Da, an
easy fix," Tatiana whispered. "If you were in blue, devushka, all the guests could play with you, and our new friend
could twist and pinch and kiss and lick your little nipples, hm? Would you like that? I am thinking you would."
The woman grinned and stood and at once Mark could smell her perfume. She was so lovely with her gray
hair pulled back and her soft blue eyes that if were truly just a doll, he would definitely want her to play with him.
Tatiana played with his nipple, giving him a little kiss on the lips. "If you were in black, she could have you
and you could have her, but then . . . so could everyone." Tatiana whispered so that only Mark could hear.
"Including Mister Zebra." She laughed and added louder, "What will it be, krasivaya devushka? Will you stay in
pink or change to blue or change to black?"
Mark shook his head. The curls of his hair tickled his cheeks and neck, and they were just starting to tickle
his bare shoulders. Yes, his hair was getting longer. How long had he been here? Tears trickled yet again down his
cheeks. Was it because the pleasure was too much to stand? Was it because he was being asked to make a decision
after so long of being free from them? Or was it simply the pills creating them?
The woman gazed deep into his eyes with a pitying smile. "I would like very much to play with you,
Alyssa. Wouldn't you like that?"
That name. Why did she have to call him that name? It robbed him of the very last of his maleness every
time he responded to it, every time he began to think of himself that way. He nodded with bleary eyes and smiled.
"Yes, Ma'am."
Tatiana rubbed his nipple tenderly. "Go and ask Miss Lydia."
Without thinking, he tried to curtsy, though his knees were so weak that he could barely manage it. He
smiled, wiped his tears and blushed red hot yet again. "Y-yes, Miss Tatiana."
"We'll be here waiting for you," the woman said.