by Tom Tame
He didn't want to be loose down there, but she whispered "Relax" and "Breathe" again and again and he realized he
couldn't stop it. He couldn't stop any of it.
She worked his finger in and out of him, deep and shallow until the slick way it came and went could only
remind him of how it must feel for a girl to get fucked. He was being fucked like a girl. His mind crumbled with
despair, simultaneously squealing with delight. One part of him was dying, while another was part was being born.
Finally, she withdrew her finger but told him to "stay".
Soon, another intruder pushed up against him. Cold, hard. He hoped he could resist it, but just like before,
Miss Lydia worked it, rubbed it, pressed it and finally it slipped deep inside him with a pop. He could feel the cold,
indistinct kiss of it inside, but most of all he felt the stretch of his anus as it acclimated itself.
Finally, she told him to stand and he struggled to comply. His legs were rubbery. He was weak all over. As
he moved, he felt the tenderness of his red ass cheeks once again. As he moved, he felt the strange intruder inside
him moving with him, filling him.
Miss Lydia snapped her fingers in front of his face quickly. "Look here, please."
He did so. Yes, he was lost again. Lost in her eyes, but also lost from himself. He felt different, desperate.
He felt terrifying filled down there. The hardness inside him reminded him of its presence with every move.
Miss Lydia gazed deep into his eyes and whispered, "How do you feel, Alyssa?"
His expression was new; he'd never worn it before; the twist of it, the fatigue of it, the anxiousness, the
desperation, was unidentifiable. It was obvious by the way Miss Lydia grinned that she'd seen such an expression
before and was happy to see it on his face now. "Mmhmm. That's more like it. Don't try to make sense of it. It is
what it is. This is what you are now. Accept it, honey, and your life will be filled with more pleasures than you ever
thought possible."
She forced him to sit on the stool before the mirror to fix his face. The intruder rammed deeper inside him.
There was no way to get comfortable with it. Strangely, he preferred to stand. It was still there, but feeling it shift
slickly inside him was far more pleasurable and naughty. Yes. Naughty. He felt like a naughty girl. He'd been
spanked, plugged, and now his reward was to report for duty to his wife, Miss Sophia, feeling naughty and
frighteningly vulnerable.
Maid by Hand
Before sending him on his way, makeup fixed, hair pulled back in a cute little ponytail, blue uniform tightly
gripping him once again, petticoats swishing, Miss Lydia melted the last of his resistance with ice.
His cock, free at last for the first time in months, stood tall and proud beneath his skirt, mostly concealed by
his petticoats. The tender caress of the soft lace was a whispering reminder that he might be able to cum if he just
got a little more tickle, a little more rub. It was impossible now not to have an erection. He gazed at the pretty blonde
girl in the mirror and his cock twitched harder. He saw the expression of her face and it both frightened and thrilled
him. Her cheeks were still stained red from crying. Her nose was red from sniffling. The nervous but ready look in
her eyes made her look innocent, but oh so sensual. This was a girl who had been teased for weeks on end with no
relief and needed to be used. It wasn't just a physical need; it was a deep down in the soul emotional craving. This
was a girl who wore the evidence of a cruel spanking on her blistered ass and was so softened by it that her will had
simply melted away. This girl with her wet lips and "please" in her eyes was him. There was no denying it any
longer. He was Alyssa.
He felt spaced out again, disconnected from whoever he used to be, attached to the girl that he now was and
the only thing left to anchor him was the anxious yearning of Alyssa's body, but he still had his cock and that was
incredibly disorienting.
His cock, his beautiful cock that he'd loved so much his entire life . . . his cock was ready to split at the
seams it was so hard. As much as he wanted to fuck someone or some thing, anyone and any thing, the plug shifting
inside him and stretching his anus made him reel with confusion. Did he want to fuck or did he want to be fucked?
The intruder below simply would not let him get comfortable, yet with each passing second he was getting more and
more used to it. It was a slippery little reminder of Miss Lydia's will.
Miss Lydia stood before him with a smile that said, I know everything and I'm going to help end your
confusion, but not the way you want. She held up an ice pack before his eyes. "Now--" She looked at him slyly like a
girl trying to flirt her way out of a speeding ticket. "--no matter what happens, Alyssa, I want you to stay hard. You
keep that cute little erection of yours up. That's an order. Think whatever you have to think, imagine the naughtiest,
filthiest, sexiest thing you can, but keep your cock hard, sweetie." She gazed deeply into his eyes once again as she
lowered the ice pack. "I'll even help, if you like. I'll play with your pretty pink nipples, but you have to keep your
little cock hard for me. Do you understand?"
He swallowed and nodded. "Y-yes, Miss Lydia."
She gently pressed the ice pack to his record-breaking erection. He gasped once because of the intense cold,
but quickly the ice began to invade and pervade and dissipate the heat of his cock.
He panted, tried to imagine Miss Sophia on her hands and knees, puppy dog style, while he drove himself
into her, but the image in his mind switched to someone else fucking her. Hard. Fast. Eliciting little moaning
whimpers from her, the cheeks of her ass rippling from the thrusts. The hard plug in his ass transformed the image to
a pretty blonde girl, him, on his hands and knees with someone behind him . . her . . with their hard cock like his . . .
placing it against her rear, breathing, putting his hard hand on her soft shoulder and pulling her back into--
No. That's not what he wanted to see. He had to get hold of himself.
True to her word, Miss Lydia began to rub her thumb on one of his nipples and again he the pleasure
zapped through him like erotic jabs of lightning. They'd spent weeks, months sensitizing his nipples and now the
merest touch helplessly aroused him. His cock, however, was slowly starting to wilt.
"Keep it up, Alyssa. Keep it hard." Her whisper was seductive and he wanted to obey her. He tried pulling
away from the ice pack, but she pressed it harder against his cock, against his balls. He whimpered, panted, whined,
but it was no use. His once molten flesh was turning cold and shrinking away.
"How about this?" Miss Lydia grinned. "If you keep it up, I'll let you go back to being a boy. You and Miss
Sophia can stay here as long as you like, and you can be your old manly self again. All you have to do--" She
wrapped the ice pack fully around his shrinking cock. "--is keep your erection."
He leaned against Miss Lydia. She smelled so pretty. He smelled pretty, too. He'd smelled pretty for so
long, he couldn't remember what it was like to smell any other way. "Please. . . ."
The sensations that once filled his cock like a red hot poker straight from the fire were gone now. The
stiffness, the aching of it was gone, yet the yearning desire remained. He whimpered. He panted. He resorted to
imagining himself as Miss Sophia's perfect feminized maid, and it aroused him, it drove him wild
, but his cock
continued to surrender to the ice.
Miss Lydia laughed. "Can't you keep it up, honey?"
He shook his head, cheeks burning again.
He didn't want to give up, but he had no choice. Defying his will, obeying hers, his cock went limp. She
was in control of it; she always had been. Miss Sophia had given her control over his cock to Miss Lydia, and now
she was showing him how much power over it she really had. His testicles shrank and withdrew inside his body. He
was left feeling as if he had no cock at all, just a frigid numbness between his legs.
It was gone again, and it was as if it had never existed.
Her eyes filled with pity. "I guess it's back in the gaffe for you then."
He couldn't stand the shame. He couldn't even make himself nod.
She handed him the tight pink gaffe and watched as he stepped into it and pulled it up his soft legs. With a
practiced hand she folded his limp cock back between his legs, trapping it there as it had been for months. Just like
that, he was a maid again. He felt a shift in himself. He felt himself suddenly hold himself differently, closing his
legs, ankle to ankle, weight forcibly shifted because of the high heels (were they extra high today?). He felt
different, too. He felt hopeless again, helpless to do anything but what he was told. He was overflowing with desire,
with need, and he would do anything they wanted, anything at all.
"Th-thank you, Miss Lydia." He sought to please her. He didn't know why. Maybe because she was in
control of his cock and he hoped . . . hoped. . . or maybe simply because she was the Mistress.
She patted him on the cheek then, and gave him a little swat on his rump and watched him wince and jump.
He was obviously still tender back there and the way his soft butt cheeks clamped down on the hard plug sent
strange sensations spiraling up through his body.
She addressed him as if he were a desk lamp. "I wouldn't worry about it. Miss Sophia wants you this way
and it was really just another lesson for you to learn. Your maleness makes you helpless, darling. That little cock
that you think makes you strong and formidable is actually your greatest weakness. Women have been controlling
men this way for centuries, convincing you to forego your own pleasure for us, knowing how it makes you soft to
our wills, but we've only gotten good at it in the last few decades. I am an expert, and I've taken the liberty of
teaching your Miss Sophia everything she needs to know. It's been awhile since you've seen her. She's learned a lot.
She's changed, darling. I think you'll find your sweet little wife is a different person now. I can't wait for you to find
out."
Had she? Had she changed so much? Was she still his Sophia? The last time he'd seen her, he'd been
shocked by how much she'd slimmed down, how she'd suddenly oozed sex. He'd changed too though, hadn't he?
Changed so much she hadn't even recognized him. Would she still love him? Would she still want him?
He was pushed into the hallway before he could collect his thoughts. Miss Lydia was sending him home,
she said, home to his wife, but the walk was a new experience. The heels were taller than he was used to which
forced him to focus on his gait; smaller steps, one foot in front of the other (which made his hips sway
uncontrollably), heel-toe, heel-toe. It was the plug in his bottom, however, that he found the most distracting. It
wasn't just changing his walk, pushing his butt up in the air, forcing his thighs to squeeze together as if to keep it in
(though the truth was it wasn't going anywhere--in fact it only ever felt as if it were sliding deeper). It was also
changing how he felt. That plug was the center of his world now, and it felt enormous inside him, as if his legs
needed to swing around it with each step. It's what a puppet must feel like with its master's hand shoved up inside it,
controlling it, directing it without mercy. It was almost as if Miss Lydia had never removed her finger, but was even
now twisting it inside him, warm and wet and hot, and driving him where she wanted him to go.
Before he knew it, he'd arrived at Miss Sophia's room, which not so long ago had been their room. He
smiled. He couldn't wait to see her. He missed her terribly, and it was only now that she was a door width away that
he realized how much. He blushed and felt his heart thud heavily in his chest. Any moment now, he'd see her bright,
smiling face, he'd feel her love again, smell her hair again. In just a moment, he'd be back in her arms, warm and
safe and hers, however she wanted him.
If she wanted him to be her girl, then he would be her girl. He didn't care anymore. He just wanted her, to
love her and be loved by her, to be next to her, close to her.
He knocked and felt the blood rush into his cheeks. His toes were tingling. His nipples were hard as
pebbles. He bit his lip and leaned forward, waiting for the moment when he would see her, when she would see him,
when their eyes would meet and--
The door opened and a smile broke across Mister Zebra's face.
His world fell away. It was a roller coaster drop into terror and dread. What was he doing here?
"Well," Mister Zebra grinned like a shark, "what do we have here?"
Alyssa blinked and blinked and his--her lips parted as her mouth dropped open and he--she stared, wordless
with shock.
Mister Zebra whispered, "The one that got away." He placed one finger under the pretty maid's chin and lifted her face. Her deer-in-the-headlights expression amused him to no end. "Well, you're not getting away tonight,
are you?"
Unconsciously, Alyssa began to shake her head, perhaps agreeing that no, she would not be getting away or
perhaps denying it. It didn't matter. He--she was trapped and she knew it. There was nowhere to go.
The door whined open a little further, and suddenly Miss Sophia appeared. She smiled happily and blushed
and suddenly his world was right again. "Hello, Alyssa." She shook her head. "I can't get over how different you
look now. It's as if you were always this way." She turned and spoke to Mister Zebra. "Don't just leave her standing
there. Bring her in."
Mister Zebra took a step back and Alyssa moved through the door, feeling at once his warm hand on the
small of her back. It happened all the time now. Since she'd changed into the blue uniform, men and women alike
handled her, touched her, squeezed and pinched her. She'd gotten so used to it that she barely even noticed it
anymore. She noticed this touch, however. There was some deep significance to it that she couldn't put her finger on.
"Stand by the bed," Miss Sophia said, and there was sternness in her tone that he'd never heard before.
He did so and spun around to see his her, noticing then how much she'd changed. Her once full and wavy
head of black hair had been restyled into a saucy set of bangs, which hung, flirty and bold, in her eyes. Her hair was
ironed into straight satiny sheets with a blunt cut set of bangs that fell in her eyes. Her makeup was heavier, bolder,
with flashing red lipstick and smoldering dark swirls of gray and burgundy, making the blue in her eyes startling.
With a shock, he realized she was in a red maid's uniform. There was no petticoat, no flounce; it was a tight, straight
A-line skirt that ended at her upper thighs. Her corset was smaller, the crisscross laces drawn taut, pulling in her
waist so that her hips flared even wider than before. He'd never seen her so slim before, yet her face still had that
soft heart shape, and her breast
s appeared even larger, softer, rounder than he remembered. She was so impossibly
beautiful and luscious; she was almost doll like.
She was still his Sophie though. When their eyes met, just like always, it was as if they were silently
singing to each other, as if their bodies were magnetically drawn to one another, as if they wanted to attach and
never separate. For an eternity, they stood and stared at each other, utterly happy, blissfully so. It was if they'd never
parted, as if nothing had changed, even though everything had.
Miss Sophia was moving toward him, floating it seemed, and he knew he would soon be in her arms.
"Sophie," Mister Zebra warned.
Miss Sophia shook her head, eyelashes fluttering, cheeks blushing deeply, and she flashed an irritated
expression at him. "I know."
Alyssa glanced between the two of them, man and woman. What was this secret communication between
them? It wasn't fair. Were they . . . together? It couldn't be true.
"You do now," Mister Zebra replied.
"I knew. I hadn't forgotten, just--" Miss Sophia shook her head and rolled her eyes so only Alyssa could
see.
Yes, good, she was frustrated with him. That was good. Wait, was it good? Was it the frustration of a
couple interacting, of a woman in a relationship with an overbearing man? It sounded far too much like "Yes, dear"
for his comfort.
Miss Sophia brushed Alyssa's hair from her face, twirled one of her blonde curls around her finger. She
looked her up and down, stepped back to take her all in, her short flouncy skirt, her blue fishnet stockings, her high
heels, her thin arms, her polished fingernails. She shook her head with a soft whisper. "I can't get over how much
you've changed, even since the last time I saw you. It's not even just how you look. Tatiana took care of that. It's
how you move. Miss Lydia was right. I just can't believe it. It's like you're not the same person. It's like you were
never a man at all."
"He wasn't," Mister Zebra chimed in.
Alyssa bowed her head and burned bright with shame. It wasn't true. He had been a man once. He
whispered, "No . . . I--" but he didn't get the chance. Miss Sophia parted her painted lips and drove the figurative nail