Evade

The Boy Who Became a Doll

and other cross-dressing stories

#1

The Boy Who Became a Doll

"Put these on," said the man, tossing a bundle of clothes on the bed in front of the boy.

Twelve year old Tommy Follows looked puzzled, turning his gaze from the man who had forced him into his car an hour earlier, brought him to this place miles from home, to the bundle before him. It was, he could see, brightly colored – a pattern of reds and yellows and pinks. "But, sir, I've got clothes on," the boy said.

"Sure, kid. Dull old boy's clothes." The man grinned at the child. "These other ones are special."

The boy furrowed his brow and picked up the bundle. It fell open, spilling clothes on the bed. In a moment Tommy realized they were women's clothes – a mass of fine fabrics and lace. "I can't wear these," he gasped, dropping them back on the bed.

"Of course you can," snapped the man. He was, of course, considerably taller than the youngster and he stepped forward to tower over the kid. The man's rough, close cropped beard and his long, black hair made him look threatening, along with the dark pools that were his eyes. "You get out of those things and get those on. Now!'

Sudden tears welled in the pre-teen boy's eyes. He was scared. "Please... I want to go home."

"Not yet," said the man. "Later, if you're good. When you're dressed."

The boy sniffed back his tears. "Please sir. Why do I have to wear these clothes?"

"Because I say so. And you'll look cute, believe me."

Tommy wiped his eyes on the back of his hand. "I want to go home," he repeated.

"And I want you to get dressed," growled the man. "So do it."

"You can't make me."

"Oh but I can," smiled the man. "I can make you do anything I want." He flexed his big fists and cracked his knuckles loudly, making the terrified boy blink.

Reluctantly Tommy started to pull off his own clothes. He began to fold them neatly, just as he had been told by his mom.

"Don't bother," said the man. "You won't be needing those again."

Tommy let his clothes slip from his hands to the floor, embarrassed as he slowly became naked under the unrelenting gaze of the man. He'd never seen this man before he had been pulled, struggling into the car and told to lie still – very still – on the floor by the passenger seat. Tommy had done exactly what he had been told if only because the man had looked capable of getting very angry.

He still looked as if he could get angry as he glared down at Tommy. The boy shivered, partly from fear, partly from the cold in the cabin.

They were a long way from home, up in the mountains. The cabin had little furniture in it beyond the bed, a table and two hard back chairs. The small window on one side looked out over rocks and a distant valley. The door was locked and Tommy already knew the man had the key.

"Put the panties on first," said the man. "You can get to cover that wiener up."

Tommy fished in the bundle of clothes and pulled out a pair of pink nylon panties, decorated with white lace at the legs. He held them up, unsure what to do with them.

"Quit stalling, kid. They're just like your own pants. It's just that they're a little lady-like." The man laughed at his own joke.

Tommy stepped into them, glad at least he could hide his dick. He pulled them up over his hips, aware of the way the nylon felt. It made him shiver but in a different way to just being cold or scared.

"Now the bra," said the man.

"I can't," spluttered the boy, face turning red as he stared down at the red and black lace garment. "It's for women!'

"Of course it is. It's a goddamn brassiere. But you're going to wear it."

"But I've never worn one before," objected Tommy.

"Time to learn, kid. Put your arms through the bra straps and fasten it behind your back." The man paused. "You want me to do it for you?"

Tommy felt his heart start to race. He didn't know if he wanted this man to do it, but he couldn't do it on his own. "W-will you do it?" he asked.

"Say please," grinned the man.

"Please," mumbled the boy.

"Please what?"

Tommy stared at the man, seeing how he was enjoying this. Tommy couldn't work out why. He said it anyway, even if it was quietly: "Please, sir, will you put the bra on me."

"Louder," said the man.

The boy, startled, repeated it louder.

"Good," said the man. He picked up the bra and showed the boy. "The cups go in front, on your little chest." The cups he alluded to were lace – black like the rest of the bra but with generous red lace on the edges, a red bow between the cups and bizarrely, red satin straps. Tommy had seen very few bras before – only his mom's and his sister Diana's – but they were usually white, though a couple were entirely black. But this was something almost sluttish. A strange feeling flickered in the boy's stomach.

He held his arms out and watched as the man threaded the straps over them and drew the bra up to the boy's chest. Deftly, the man tugged the bra round Tommy's back and hooked it closed. "It's tight" the boy said when the man had done.

"It's meant to be tight," growled the man. Tommy didn't like the man standing so close to him, didn't like the feel of his rough hands on him, but he was both fascinated and scared when the man adjusted the sliders on the bra straps to make them sit tight on his shoulders. He did it like he knew exactly what he was doing. For some reason Tommy was aware of thinking: my dad wouldn't know how to do that.

"Feel good?" the man asked, stepping back to study the boy.

"It's, um, sort of weird," said Tommy, aware something he had never known before was stirring in him. The tightness, the softness of it sent a peculiar tremor through the twelve year old. He brought his hand up and felt the bra cup lace and shivered, simultaneously repelled by its femininity and attracted to its texture.

The man grunted, as if he understood. But he said as he turned away: "Better get used to it."

"It's flat," said the boy, suddenly blushing at what he'd said.

"I know. You haven't got anything to fill the cups out." The man's eye's sparkled as he added: "Soon you can have something."

Tommy blushed brighter red, unsure what the tumbling sensation in him was.

The man didn't see it. He had turned away and gone to the stone fireplace and was pushing some dry sticks and brushwood into a pile. He struck a match and lit the brushwood. Tommy watched as the flames licked up round the wood and the man carefully added some larger pieces of wood to it, and the boy was glad there would be some heat. It was late afternoon and the onset of night he knew would bring much lower temperatures.

The man stood and went to the table, ignoring the boy. He had brought a bag with him and was looking in it.

"Sir," ventured Tommy. "The rest of the clothes. Do I put them on."

"Sure," the man said as he brought something out of the bag. It was pink – flesh colored – and looked shiny. He put it on the table and looked back at they boy, standing in the bra and panties. "But first we need some more fuel for the fire."

Tommy watched, horrified, as the man stepped over to the pile of Tommy's boy clothes, swept them up – including his sneakers – and took them to the fire. Without a word the man began tossing them on to the flames. The smell of burning leather and plastic from the sneakers filled the room.

"My clothes!" gasped the boy as he saw the flames consume them. He took a half step forward but stopped himself: the man shot him a look so he stood still, helplessly watching his pants and sweater disappear in flames.

"Your old clothes," corrected the man. "I told you already you wouldn't need them."

"But... what am I going to wear?" The boy wailed.

"The skirt and the blouse – oh yeah, and the slip. I'd get that on now if I was you."

Tommy gulped, tears in his eyes, and picked up the slip – a full-length white slip with lace insets on the bust and at the hem. Without a word he struggled into it, dropping it over his head. He wouldn't admit it but he was secretly glad it fitted him – and it helped cover up his panties and the small swelling of his cock inside them.

"I don't look like a girl," grumbled the boy, conscious of how he felt as the slip settled round him. In an odd way, it was more girlish than the bra.

"You do if I say you do," said the man quietly but firmly. "Now the blouse," said the man, gesturing at the richly patterned red and yellow flowered long-sleeved blouse on the bed. Tommy picked it up cautiously. "Go on. It won't bite," the man laughed, watching him.

Tommy struggled it over his shoulders, glad that it gave him more cover. It was smooth to the touch and again the boy shivered without knowing why. He fastened the buttons, despite the fact that they weren't how he was used to, including the ones at the cuffs.

For some reason he was too ashamed to admit, his small cock was stirring in the panties. Tommy grabbed the skirt – a gray and black check knee-length skirt – and pulled it up his legs, desperate to hide the small but distinct bulge at the front of the slip. He hoped the man wouldn't notice it. There was small zipper at the side of the skirt – at least he presumed it was the side – and a hook fastening. He closed it and wriggled in it, like he'd seen his mother do, to straighten it.

"There," smirked the man. "Feel better now you're dressed?"

"Okay I guess," said Tommy in a small voice. He put his arms round himself, feminine-like, to hug himself both for warmth and protection: the fire looked as if was going to die down with all his clothes burnt and the man made no move to put any more wood on it.

"You look cute. I said you would," the man said. "The clothes fit real well."

Tommy swallowed and shivered. His small cock was harder than he would like, as if wearing this stuff excited him. But that was stupid, he told himself. Boys don't wear women's clothes.

The man picked up something next to the pink, shiny thing on the table. "Trouble is, kid, you look like a girl but not the face. Guess you need to have that little girl look."

Tommy furrowed his brow, confused. "I'm not a girl," he said.

"Not yet," laughed the man as he stepped forward. He had two things in his hand – a short, narrow tube and a piece of surgical tape with a small hole at the front. Tommy stared wide eyed at them, suddenly fearing the worst. "Now, kid. We can do this the easy way or the hard way. But it's going to happen."

"What do you mean, the hard way?" The boy gulped, taking a step back. The bed met the back of his legs and he couldn't retreat any further.

"I mean I can tie you to one of those chairs and make you do what I want, or you can make it easy on yourself and stand still while I put this in." The man held the tube up. "It's to help you stay alive," he said.

"How?" Tommy managed to say, alarm exploding in him. He was fighting down his fears.

'It's so you can breathe and feed properly. Just keep this between your lips for a minute," the man said as the tube came up towards the boy's face.

Tommy, foolishly, tried to knock it away. The man was prepared for that however and seized the child. He grabbed something off the bed – a thin leather belt that Tommy had assumed was just part of the clothes he was supposed to wear. It was, he realized, to keep his arms out of the way. The man looped the belt round the boy's arms and waist in an instant and then buckled it tight, pinning Tommy's arms to his side.

"Let me go!" Tommy shouted, trying to struggle.

The man merely held him effortlessly, even when the boy tried to kick – not very effectively, he soon discovered. "Cut it out kid or I'll get more ropes and straps and really tie you down." Suddenly Tommy gave up, slumping in defeat in the man's strong arms. He was allowed to sit on to the bed, head bowed, knowing that resistance wouldn't work.

"Better you're sensible, kid. I can hurt you, no problem," he said, not unkindly. "But I don't want to. So make it easy for yourself and cooperate, okay?"

"You wouldn't hurt me," said the boy, trying to be defiant.

"I try not to hurt little girls unless I have to."

Tommy nodded, knowing he had no option but to obey. The thought came to the pre-teen that if he did what this man said, he might be kinder to him. Maybe let him go. Tommy opened his mouth so the man could insert the tube – it hung between his lips like a cigarette. The man peeled the back off the surgical tape and brought that up, fitting the tube through the hole and smoothed the tape over Tommy's cheeks, covering all of his lower face. The boy made a helpless mmmphing noise but nothing else.

"You can breathe through that tube," said the man, "and take in drinks. Like a drinking straw."

Tommy, tears in eyes, nodded. The man went to the table and came back with the pink, shiny thing. He held it up in front of the boy.

"It's a rubber mask," he explained. "A little girl's rubber mask."

Tommy stared at it, panic in him, knowing that it was for him. The face on the mask was like that of a doll: big painted on blue eyes with large lashes, arched eyebrows and a cute bright red bow lips, pouting to a kiss. There was, he could see, a small hole in the middle of the lips and two others where his nostrils would go. He was relieved to see the blue eyes had two small holes too, so he would be able to see when it was on.

The boy made no effort to fight as the man pulled the mask over his head. The mask fitted snugly over his nose and the man made a couple of small adjustments to make sure the tube in Tommy's mouth projected through the mask, the nostrils and eye holes were in the right place and it sat properly over the boy's head. Slowly, methodically the man began to lace up the back, compressing the thin rubber to the boy's face. Tommy groaned as the pressure increased but with his arms still pinned to his side by the belt, there was nothing he could do.

The man finished the lacing and tied the ends off at the back of Tommy's neck. "You look really sweet, girl. Can you breathe okay?"

Tommy nodded. He could breathe through his nose and the tube in his mouth and was at least glad of that. The man went back to the table and the boy watched him, aware that the small holes at his eyes meant he had to turn his head to do so: there was no vision if he moved his eyes to the side. The only way he could see was looking straight ahead.

The man returned with a small, golden padlock. "This," he explained, "goes at the back of the mask. It locks it onto your head and stops you undoing the laces."

Tommy made an urgent demand why all this was happening, how long was this mask – this hood – going to be on him. But his taped up, hood covered mouth allowed only meaningless grunts, and even if he could make himself understood the man probably wouldn't have told him.

"Calm down, girl," the man said as he threaded the lock through what must have been two small rings at the back of the hood and snapped it shut. "It's for your own good."

The man went back to the table and brought out what was clearly a wig from the bag. It was a mass of long, golden blonde curls, and the boy knew it was for him.

"Shirley Temple look," the man grinned. "You'll look even more like an adorable, cute little girl now." The man as he pulled the wig into place on top of the hood and smoothed down the curls at each side. "And, special treat, it won't come off in a hurry. There are special glue pads inside it, which are waterproof. After all, no girl likes her hair coming off in the rain or in the shower," he grinned, positioning himself so that Tommy could see him directly without turning his head. "It also hides those unsightly laces and the padlock."

The man seemed to be showing more kindness now, seeming much less threatening. Tommy gulped, wondering where all this was leading. He understood the man wasn't going to kill him now and for all the fear, all the terror, there was something reassuring about this. He was still Tommy Follows, but it was all hidden away under this pretend girl.

The man got up and found, from his stuff, a hand mirror. He brought it over to where Tommy sat and held it up so the boy could see himself. It was, Tommy admitted, quite a shock. For a start it could have been anybody in that mask: with the blond, tumbling curls wig and the wide eyed, innocent painted face it was simply a doll staring back. He was a doll. A weird doll maybe with the small tube sticking out of its mouth but a doll nonetheless. Moreover, the way the mask had been stretched it seemed to reshape Tommy's face, making it rounder and smoother. The light gleamed on the 'skin' of the doll face, emphasizing its sweet, almost contented look.

Inside the pink panties the boy's small cock began to twitch again and his cheeks burned with embarrassment inside the hood. But of course, the man wouldn't see that. All he could see would be a doll, looking pleasantly at him.

The man put down the mirror and undid the belt, freeing his prisoner's arms. Tommy understood he could do nothing about the hood but he brought his hands up to feel its smoothness and texture. It was like nothing he's ever felt before.

"Warm in there?" asked the man.

Tommy grunted a yes and nodded. It was warm inside the hood. He wasn't sweating yet but it wasn't far off.

"That's the rubber, though it is a special compound," explained the man as if he was a teacher. "It lets the skin breathe and there are small holes at the top that allow air – and heat – to escape through the wig. But, like all skin enclosed, there's going to be some build up of heat. Best thing to do is not to do anything too demanding. No severe exercise. No running away, for instance," he grinned. "You might want to get up and walk round, though. Get used to everything, like how the skirt feels." He paused. "But before you do, I think you need some shoes."

The boy nodded. He wasn't sure why this man had kidnapped him, why he had been brought to this lonely place, why he had been made to dress as a girl and wear this mask. But he had the overwhelming feeling that the man didn't want to hurt him. If anything the man looked a lot less scary than he had at first, and his voice was gentler. Like he cared.

The man reached under the bed and pulled out a box. When he opened it and lifted it up to show Tommy the contents, the boy's heart did a little flip. He wasn't sure if it was shock or a strange delight he couldn't explain. The box contained a pair of polished black, high heeled shoes, complete with ankle straps and gold buckles. Very feminine shoes that even a small girl wouldn't wear normally. Only for dressing up games.

"Uhhh mmph mrrm uhngg!" grunted Tommy. He had tried to say: I can't wear those things but it might have sounded like a gagged version of: "wow, they look good."

The man, kneeling in front of the boy, eased the first of the pair on to Tommy's foot. The shoe was a perfect fit and slipped on as if it was made to measure. The man carefully, almost lovingly, fastened the gold buckle. The boy, staring down, gave a little gasp: the high heel and the shape of the shoe pointed his foot down elegantly and he liked the way the polished toes caught the light. Even the tight ankle strap gave him a peculiar but enjoyable thrill.

The other shoe went on, perfectly, and was fastened like the first. The boy looked at both feet as the man stood. "I think," he said, looking down at the boy, "you need to practice walking in them."

Tommy gulped and nodded. Gingerly he got to his feet, wobbling a little on the spike heels, his arm supported by the man. He knew his mom had a pair like this and he'd wondered how she could walk in them. He was about to find out and the idea sent a shiver through him and his cock stirred anew inside the panties.

"Take it easy," said the man gently. "One step at a time."

The man didn't let go of the boy's arm, allowing him to walk tentatively, awkwardly, at first. Then the man said something odd: "You'll find you're right at home in them soon enough."

The twelve year old was walked round the room, wondering what the man meant. Would he have to keep them on his feet a long time, or were they going to walk somewhere? He tried to look down at his feet as he walked but the small eye holes limited his vision and he had to bend his head well forward. The man stopped him.

"Better if you walk properly, head up. You'll fall if you walk like that."

The boy nodded and walked, head up, allowing the man to guide him. They walked twice round the room before the man let go of Tommy's arm, so he could walk on his own. He did, feeling elated he could cope with shoes like this. His feet, unused to the angle and the heels, were hurting a little but the boy didn't mind too much. There was something about wearing high heels that sent a thrill through him.

He thought how impressed his mom would be to see this. That made him stop in his tracks: he realized he hadn't thought of his parents for a while. He felt guilty. He had yearned for them to come and rescue him, thought that they would be calling the police, that help would be on its way. But the dressing up, the mask and the shoes had made him forget about them.

The man noticed the boy had stopped. "Something wrong?" he asked, stepping up.

Tommy shook his head to show there was nothing wrong. Given that he had in the space of two hours been kidnapped, brought to a strange place, been gagged, restrained and masked as well as made to wear women's clothes – and high heels – it was strange to indicate there was nothing wrong.

"Good," said the man. "Carry on walking."

Tommy did as he was told. He made several more circuits of the room, aware his feet were beginning to hurt now. He looked at the man, sat at the table, watching him and tried to make a "I can't go on doing this" look. The mask, of course, made it look like he was entirely happy. The man indicated the boy should continue his exercise, and the child did, feeling the sweat beginning to prickle under the mask.

The hood muted some sound but not all. There was a rattle of something metallic and Tommy looked round at the source, where the man was. He had extracted a length of chain from the bag and what looked like another padlock. He came towards the boy. "Time to rest," he said. Without warning the man looped one end of the chain round Tommy's neck and closed the padlock at the boy's throat. "This chain will secure you to the bed or whatever I want. Can't have you getting up in the night and falling over in your heels," he grinned.

The night? He'd have to stay here for the whole night, like this? Panic welled in the boy again. He tried to object, tried to lash out with his fists, even kick out though he almost lost his balance as he did so in the high heels. The man dodged the boy's efforts easily, scooped up the belt and this time secured Tommy's wrists behind his back, fastening the buckle in front across his belly. The man gave it a good hard tug to tighten it, making Tommy groan, before pushing the boy back on the bed, so his skirt flew up.

The man leaned over and straightened it down, for which Tommy was glad. He may have been a boy in female clothes but even he knew what modesty was in a young lady. The chain was looped round the headboard post. "Just relax," said the man. "I don't want to chain you up like some animal but I need you to behave." He paused. "I could chain your ankles easily, so you can't walk very fast or even fasten your wrists behind you – permanently. For now, the belt will do, so just take it easy. Good girls don't fight."

Tommy glared at the man but he knew it would do no good. He watched, sullenly, as the man returned to the table, brought more chains out of the bag but didn't approach Tommy with them.

Instead the man went to the fire, stirred the remains of the boy's clothes into the hot ashes and threw some more wood on. The fire burned bright and Tommy stared into the flames.

The chains rattled when Tommy walked. He must have walked round the cabin a hundred times, to the point he was long past feeling dizzy. The man watched as the boy completed yet another circuit, his ankle chain rattling on the floor boards. The man was masturbating, slowly stroking his thick cock as he watched the boy walk.

Tommy was embarrassed to see a man doing that, because he'd been doing it for a year himself: masturbating his admittedly much smaller dick. But like a lot of pre-teens, they were embarrassed about what they all did naturally. Seeing someone else do it so openly made Tommy feel hot and bothered. Tommy even tried not to glance at the man's thick cock, noting its purple head and how hard it was. How a small drop of pre-cum gleamed at the eye.

And Tommy could see the man's dick was like his – hairless. He understood men had pubic hair. He had seen his father's cock briefly once when they went swimming, when they had changed together. Tommy had been fascinated by the thick matt of hair round his dad's cock as he glanced surreptitiously at it. But this man, the one who had enslaved him, clearly was shaved. Admittedly, the boy didn't understand what that was – he assumed at first that the man was naturally hairless. Fascinated, the boy kept glancing at the man, who seemed to be smiling as if he knew what was in the kid's mind.

Tommy didn't understand this but the man was an expert at almost bringing himself off, just delaying the moment of ejaculation so he could enjoy watching the cross-dressed, rubber-masked boy walk so deliberately, so slowly in his chains round the room. The boy's own experience of masturbating had been mostly swift: he came quickly and wiped it up hurriedly. But this man wasn't guilty, or hurried. He was slow and deliberate. Measured.

The boy in the girl's clothes desperately wanted to ask if he could stop walking as he was exhausted, but he also knew in some deep way that he probably wouldn't stop until the man had finished his masturbation. Of course, there was the matter of the gag, so asking was out of the question anyway. In desperation, the boy did the only thing he could: he knelt in front of the man and brought his hands up in a praying, pleading gesture.

The man laughed at Tommy's gesture. He stopped masturbating (though still gripped his cock) and beckoned the boy closer. Tommy shuffled on his knees towards the man, feeling the rough floor hurt his knees but he didn't drop his hands from the pleading position.

"Good, you're learning," said the man, not unkindly. "You will learn to communicate with me by gestures. Providing you aren't tied up." The man smirked at the last part and suddenly renewed his masturbation.

In a moment Tommy understood what would happen next, and what he must do. With his face less than two feet from the cock, he also grasped what was required of a doll-faced slave. He shuffled closer still and put his hands behind his back, face angled towards the bright pink, bulbous end of the man's hard dick.

The jet of cum was hard and rattled loudly against the boy's masked face. The boy flinched at it, but instantly understood the benefit of having a layer of thin rubber between his face and the semen. He couldn't feel it roll down his cheeks but presumed it was. He thought he should remain, hands in back, and he didn't move.

The man put his cock away. He picked something up, which looked like an expensive handkerchief. "Yours," he said. "It's lace edged silk. I'm just borrowing it." Without another word the man wiped the silk over the boy's face, clearly wiping his own semen off the mask.

"If you weren't gagged, you could suck it clean," he said, with a sly smile. "So you should thank your lucky stars your mouth is occupied. Agreed?"

Tommy nodded, grateful the man wasn't going to push the cum-soaked silk and lace into his mouth and make him suck it all off. The gag he wore was good for something, he concluded.

"Okay, girl, time to rest now," said the man as he stood. "Let's get you chained up on the bed and you can get some sleep. After you have a drink."

A wave of panic swept over Tommy. he thought that the man would do something gross like pissing in his mouth, but he needn't have worried. The man picked up a glass and filled it with ordinary water, and then held the tube at the boy's mouth so it could go into the liquid. Tommy soon understood he had to suck to drink the liquid.

"In case you are wondering, this is also how you will be fed from now on. You will be drinking a special food slaves like you have."

Under the mask, Tommy raised his eyebrows. Slaves like him? There were more?

The man must have understood the slight movement of the cross-dressed boy's head. "Oh sure," he smiled. "There are small boys like you all over who get to be dressed up like this, made into slave girls. Someone had to make all this, right? So it follows they have to make the stuff that you will live on."

Tommy mentally gulped as he drank. He hadn't realized how thirsty he was, and hungry too. But he suspected he would have to wait until the next day for a taste of this food. The boy wondered what it would taste like, whether he would hate it. In the way he hated Jello. Maybe, he thought, there are different flavors.

The boy drank all the water and then lifted his head clear of the empty glass and as he did so, he felt his bladder twinge. Of course, he understood, he had to pee. And he also understood he had to indicate to the man he needed to go. He stood, carefully, and lifted his skirt and put his hand in front of him as a boy would, to hold his cock as he would when going to the bathroom.

The man looked at him and slowly shook his head. "Girls don't go to the toilet like that, do they?"

Tommy blushed under his mask and shook his head. The man made no effort to move, and slowly it dawned on Tommy he had to communicate the proper way, as a girl would. Holding his skirt up, he bent and squatted, as if he was going to sit on the toilet in the female way.

The man, to Tommy's relief, grinned and nodded. He took hold of the boy's arm and led him, chains clanking, to a door at one end of the room. He opened it to reveal a small bathroom – no more than a toilet, sink and shower unit. The man guided Tommy in and stood, arms folded in the doorway, watching. The boy was embarrassed to do this but he had no choice: the feeling in his bladder was urgent. Lifting his skirt again, higher, Tommy peeled down his pants and sat. He was facing the man and kept his eyes down in shame at being seen doing this. The boy was tempted – but understood he shouldn't – to hold his small cock down as he peed.

Somehow he managed to empty his bladder. He finished, stood and pulled his panties up and straightened his skirt. He did it as naturally as he could, as a girl would do.

"Good girl," said the man with a nod. "Now it's time to chain you up in bed. Busy day tomorrow."

Tommy nodded slowly, sighed under his doll mask and headed for the bed and the waiting chain.

Note: This is adapted from a cross-dressing and bondage story previously published by myself.

"Your mom says you're changing," said Doctor Hibbs as he studied the fourteen year old boy. "How do you feel?"

Jamie Newton shrugged. His friends' bodies had been changing for the past year. His was, too. On the other hand, they didn't seem to be quite changing like his was.

"I guess I feel okay," the boy said, not entirely telling the truth. There was something odd he felt, but nothing you could pin down. It was the way he felt lighter, the way he felt more delicate. The way he seemed to want to cry if something upset him.

"It's just your age," his mom had said to console him, but she was worried. Worried enough to make an appointment for her son to see the family doctor.

Jamie wriggled. He was conscious of sitting in the doctor's surgery with almost nothing on and the doctor was taking his time, making notes continually and sighing or muttering to himself.

"Your mom says you don't seem to be showing signs of reaching puberty. You know what that is?" The man in the white coat stroked his chin. He looked concerned, Jamie decided.

"Course I do. It's when boys get to be a man. Like my friend Toby, who's already shaving and Mark who's 3;" the boy hesitated.

"Go on," said the doc. "I won't be shocked."

Jamie blushed a little. "He's 3; his dick has got all hair round it. And his voice has broken," he added.

"Voices change when boys get to your age. Yours has."

"But not like the other boys," said Jamie, feeling tears well in his eyes. His voice had got higher, more like a girl's voice. His mother had said that was to be expected, but she didn't say it like she meant it.

"Jamie, I'd like you to take your T-shirt off. I need to see your torso. Your upper body."

The boy blushed. He was hoping it wouldn't come to this. He hated showing his chest off, now those things were obvious. But he stood and peeled off his top, avoiding looking at the doctor.

Doctor Hibbs leant forward, peering over his glasses and pressed his fingers against Jamie's chest, on the swelling around his nipple. Both of them, first one, then the other. The teenager flinched – they were tender and the doc's fingers were cold. Jamie was ashamed of how his chest had changed, the way those swellings had appeared. They had got more tender as they got bigger. Then the doctor asked Jamie to turn round, back to him and hold his arms out at the side so the doctor could see his shape.

"Interesting," said the doctor, making yet more notes. He picked up a tape measure and checked the boy's chest, waist and hips, his hands hovering for a moment or two longer than necessary. The boy shivered at the man's touch. "I need you to lower your pants," said the doctor. "I'm afraid my examination wouldn't be complete if I didn't examine your penis."

Jamie gulped. He had a feeling it would come to this. As much as hated this, he carefully he slid his pants down his hips and stepped out of them. He bent to pick them up, aware he did so by bending his knees and squatting, like he'd seen his mom do. The ladylike way of picking something up. He blushed again, but the doctor seemed more concerned with looking at Jamie's dick.

Or what there was of it. Jamie was convinced it had actually got smaller over the past few months. It was never the biggest in his year but now it seemed to have shrunk. There was no pubic hair on it, like there was on his friends' cocks, and his testicles were tiny too. Much smaller than theirs.

Doctor Hibbs carefully put a thin wooden spatula under Jamie's small penis and lifted it up, peering at it. All he said was "hmmm." He did the same to Jamie's small testicles. Then he weighed the boy on the scales, then he made the boy walk up and down a little, then asked the boy to stretch up. Then he asked the boy to kiss him.

"What?" asked Jamie, suddenly terrified and shrinking back.

"Jamie, it is unusual but I assure you it isn't entirely improper. I need to test the soft tissue in your lips. I'm afraid that my lips are the only things that will tell me what I need to know. Plus I need to check something." A momentary pause. "A reaction test."

"Doc 3;" began the boy, tears in his eyes again. He blinked them away. "I-I can't."

"Course you can," said the man comfortingly. He was at least forty, a little plump. He wasn't, despite his thickened waist and the large glasses, an unattractive man. But Jamie had never kissed anyone, other than his mom in a mother-son way, and he felt sick. He certainly never expected his first kiss of someone outside the family to be a man. The boy stood, naked and shivering, hands clasped across him, trying to hide himself. Doctor Hibbs leaned forward, said "Be brave," and kissed the boy on the lips. Not a long kiss, but a fraction longer than Jamie expected.

"That didn't hurt, did it?" asked the doctor, smiling as he moved his head away from the teenager. Jamie shook his head and sniffed, but he gasped a little as the spatula once again lifted the boy's cock. His slightly harder cock. "I see," said the doctor. "I think we have to repeat the test," he said.

"I have to kiss you again?" Jamie was still anxious, but when the doctor nodded he leaned forward himself to meet the man's lips. He even closed his eyes this time and the kiss was slightly longer than before, that touch more ardent. This time the doctor used his hand to feel Jamie's cock, before they broke the kiss.

"Definitely harder," said the man. "I think a longer kiss should get it fully erect."

Jamie gulped and they kissed again, this time the doc drawing the boy to him, holding him tight in his strong arms, his hands on the boy's soft, round naked butt cheeks. The kiss from the man was open mouthed, the doctor's tongue finding its way into the teenager's mouth. Jamie moaned in both surprise and delight at the invasion, but he didn't pull away. Instead, his almost fully hardened cock stiffened to a little hard rod, pressed against the man's belly.

They broke the kiss again, the boy's small dick stiff now between the man's finger's, a thin string of drool between their wet lips. Jamie blinked in the shock of what he'd done, what he was doing. Jamie gave a small gasp as the doctor stroked the teenager's hard dick gently.

"I've never done that before," he said.

"Never jerked off?" The doctor asked.

"No 3; I mean yes." The boy blushed. "No one's done it to me before."

"You like it?" the doctor stepped up the pace of the stroke, grasping it tightly, warmly. He knew what he was doing, how hard to squeeze, where to apply pressure to bring the boy to a climax. "You want me to carry on?"

The boy nodded.

"Tell me," said the doctor, his hand movements slow and steady, prolonging the milking, "What you think of when you are playing with yourself."

"N-nothing," Jamie moaned. An obvious lie.

"I'll stop then," said the doctor.

"No! Please 3; I mean, I think of things. Naughty things." The boy blushed.

"Like what exactly?"

"Being 3; being a girl." Confessed the boy. The doctor's hand was going a little quicker.

"More. Tell me more."

"Uh 3; About me being a girl and 3; being tied up."

"You want me to tie you up?"

"Oh 3;" He didn't get much further as he came into the doctor's hands, closing his eyes as he pumped his thin pulses of semen out. He clutched at the man, not wanting the sensation to end.

The doctor lifted his hand, spread it and examined the small puddle of semen. "Hmm, it isn't very much," said the doctor with a sigh.

"Is that bad?" Panic filled the boy's voice.

"Not bad, but not good. You have to do more. Even though you are changing I would have expected a little more of your semen. However, please put your tongue out and lick it from my hand." He held his hand up to Jamie's face, flushed slightly at the thought he may be inadequate somehow.

Tentatively the boy put his tongue out, and then back in again before it touched the off-white puddle. "Will it taste bad?"

"Heavens no!" laughed Doctor Hibbs. "Boys of your age taste it all the time. Now hurry, while it is still warm."

Dutifully Jamie licked, his face screwed up slightly in case his taste buds should encounter something vile. They didn't and he finished it, finally opening his eyes. "My mom 3;" he began.

" 3;Is outside, waiting for you," continued the doctor. "She can wait. We have to do more tests."

Jamie nodded. He watched the doctor reach into his desk drawer and bring out a thin length or rope. At the man's directions Jamie turned and put his hands behind him.

"Good girl," whispered the doctor as he bound the boy's wrists together. Tight, which surprised Jamie. His cock, despite having just squirted, was beginning to harden again.

"Why are you tying me?" asked the boy. "And 3; you called me girl."

"Did I? Hmmm, slip of the tongue. The tying up, it's what you want," said the medical man. "My tests rely on you being what you want to be."

The teenager gulped. He knew that meant something he'd never done before. "You want to have 3; you know, sex with me," he said, barely above a whisper.

"Of course," smiled the doctor. "How else would I know if you are ready." He studied the boy's face, the slightly resigned expression. The way Jamie nodded as if he understood. "But before anything else it is very important you taste me. I want you to suck my cock." The man turned the teen boy back towards him, pushing the tied boy down on to his knees.

Jamie nodded again, but didn't move his head down to where the man had flipped his hard cock out of his pants, simply staring at it, the way the pre-cum formed a shining droplet on the eye at the tip of the smooth slightly purplish head.

"I won't cum in your mouth," reassured the doctor, "if that's what you're thinking."

"I'm not 3; it's just 3; I don't know if I'll like it." Jamie gulped.

"My seed is bound to be good for you. You tasted yours and you were okay with it. Mine will be better because it comes straight from my testicles. Fresh." He guided the boy's head down until Jamie's lips closed on the thick shaft, the velvety pre-cum slicked head against his young tongue. Jamie clenched his bound hands behind him and gasped "Hrrth," either in pleasure or fear as the man eased his hard penis deeper into the boy's mouth. Doctor Hibbs thrust his hips back and forth, not letting go of Jamie's head, listening to the stifled gurgling noises he made.

"It won't hurt," breathed the doctor as he thrust harder. He hated telling an untruth and lying to patients wasn't a good idea. Ethically regrettable, he thought as he came into Jamie's mouth, filling it with his cum, forcing the boy to swallow it so he might breathe. But the man knew medicine wasn't easy for patients sometimes.

Doctor Hibbs withdrew his softening cock from the boy's mouth, a thin string of cum between the head and his lips until it broke.

Jamie looked up, anxiety in his eyes. "Doctor," he said. "Was that 3; okay?"

"For a beginner it was fine," soothed the doctor. "I won't be angry at you at least trying."

"Angry?" Jamie looked scared.

"Jamie, we all have to try a bit harder every time we do something. I just need to know you are making progress. If you aren't, if you don't follow my instructions, then of course I am certain to be angry."

"Please don't be angry with me, doctor Hibbs," pleaded the boy. "I promise I'll do what I'm told."

"I know," soothed the man, stroking the boy's soft hair. It would be even nicer when it was longer, thought the doctor. "Jamie, I need to tell your mom what's happening."

"Have you finished my tests?"

"Not yet. But you need a rest for today. I'm going to ask Nurse Bening to put you in the recovery room. It's a little room here with a bed we have for people who have undergone tests, or need to rest up." The doctor paused. "You need to stay there while I talk to your mom."

Jamie nodded. He stood, a little shakily. "Do I go in there like this? You know, tied up."

"You're hardly tied up," said the doctor, making a note on his clipboard. "Just hands behind back."

"Um 3; it's uncomfortable," said the boy.

"Not as uncomfortable as it might be," the man shrugged.

"I haven't got any clothes on," said Jamie.

"Nurse Bening is a nurse. She has seen people like you before. She won't be embarrassed, if that's what you mean."

The boy blushed. It wasn't what he meant but he thought, perhaps it's another test. He watched the doctor ring a buzzer on his desk and Nurse Bening came in. The boy had never seen the Nurse before. She was dressed in a white uniform, starched and clean, but with a short skirt and unbuttoned at her chest to show her cleavage. He could even see the edge of her white, lace cup bra. She had white high heels on and tripped into the room with a no-nonsense, practical air about her.

She knew what to do. "Come with me," she snapped to the boy, before the doctor said anything about what was to be done. Jamie thought that odd but then, as he followed the nurse to another door from the doctor's room, he figured it's what they did here. Routine, probably.

Nurse Bening led the boy into a room – a stark white room with nothing more than a hospital bed and a simple, aluminum-tube straight back chair. There was a large medical lamp over the bed on some adjustable arm, so the doctor could get a closer look, no doubt. Jamie shivered though. It was a cold, sterile room and there were no windows, no other door out.

The woman spun the boy round and undid his wrists. "Lie on the bed," the nurse said briskly, patting the hard mattress covered with a thin white rubber sheet. "Lie face up."

Jamie hadn't thought there was any other way to lie so he eased himself on to the mattress. He shivered more. The bed was not only hard but also, thanks to the rubber sheet, cold. "Hands above your head," said the nurse.

Jamie stretched his arms up and was astonished when the Nurse snapped a pair of cuffs on them. He tried to move them down but they were attached to the bedhead. He watched, as best he could, as the nurse then fastened his ankles to another set of cuffs, one on each ankle and then attached each of them to the edge of the bed, so his legs were drawn apart, which prevented him from moving his legs more than a few inches. He wriggled, but stopped when the nurse glared at him.

Without any warning the nurse suddenly lifted the hem of her white uniform and the boy could see Nurse Bening, attractive she may be, was no female. A cock – small but clearly a penis nonetheless – nestled between her legs, framed by her white garters. She climbed on the boy sitting astride his thighs so her small but stiffening cock was just above his small dick. For the first time she smiled and then lowered herself on to him so her cock, by now hard, pressed against his. Slowly she began to rub herself up and down the naked fourteen year old boy, her large bust pressing against his chest. Stretched on his back like this his small mounds had disappeared but his nipples were sensitive and under her weight and movement his cock began to stir too.

Then to his astonishment the nurse kissed him. Not tenderly, like Doctor Hibbs had done, but savagely, almost biting his lips. Jamie tried to move his head but the Nurse gripped his head with both hands so he couldn't move away. She kissed and bit harder, her hips wriggling faster now, her weight pressing down on him more. He could feel her hard nipples, the weight of her chest, on his. His own small but sensitive nipples were on fire, hard and aching.

The boy tried to say, "You're hurting me," but he couldn't even breathe properly, let alone speak. He felt her cock twitching against his and he knew, instinctively, the Nurse was going to ejaculate.

Nurse Bening bit harder and came with a grunt, depositing her heavy wad of cum on his cock and belly. Without a word she let go of him and climbed off him, straightening her uniform. She walked to the door of the room without looking back at the secured patient, at what she had left on him.

"Nurse, please," called Jamie. He desperately wanted to cum himself, but his small hard cock was twitching vainly in thin air.

The Nurse stopped before she opened the door, turned back and leaning over the immobilized teenage boy, produced from her pocket an adhesive bandage. A white bandage, like the room and the rubber sheet and her uniform. The Nurse smoothed the bandage over the boy's mouth, sealing it. He "mmphd" a plea into it but she was gone, closing the door behind her and leaving him alone.

Mrs Newton sat at the doctor's desk and watched Nurse Bening come out of the rest room. The attractive nurse exchanged a smile with the woman at the doctor's desk, who noticed that the crisp white uniform of the woman appeared creased at the front and there was a wet patch, a stain of some kind below her belt at the front. Perhaps, thought Mrs Newton, there had been some emergency. She turned back to the doctor as the Nurse left the room. "You say he's resting. Can I see him?"

"Ah, I wish you could, Mrs Newton. But it wouldn't be wise: your son has gone through some exacting tests and, frankly, he needs to rest now. We'll look after him for a while."

"You'll keep him here for how long?" the woman was understandably anxious but the Doctor smiled reassuringly.

"Hmm, two days should be enough. You see, he is changing in a most odd way and I need to observe." Seeing another look of concern on the mother's face the man held his hand up. "Please don't look so alarmed, Mrs Newton. Boys of his age do change and sometimes, the change takes a slightly, shall I say, unusual direction. Of course medicine has encountered it before and we can treat it, if we observe and react the proper way."

"This change 3;" the woman hesitated. "Is he changing from a boy?"

"Possibly there has been a surge of the female hormone complexes in him. Every boy has them. Most overcome them, or rather, absorb them into their growing cycle. Jamie hasn't managed that."

"But he will, won't he?"

"Perhaps, perhaps not. We can only observe and try to deal with it. But above all, believe me your son is healthy and in no pain. Or distress. He will be okay, whatever the outcome."

Mrs Newton's face crumpled. "I feel so bad. He was fine, until the time I brought him for his flu injection last year. Since then he hasn't been himself."

"Mrs Newton, don't feel bad. The flu injection worked and is completely unconnected. His troubles might have been worse. You did make sure he took the pills I prescribed, didn't you?"

"Of course, Doctor."

"Well, then you have done everything right as a good mother should. Those pills are powerful but they have staved off the worst aspects of this change."

"You mean, you knew what was happening to him?"

"I regret to say yes, though there was no point in alarming you at the time. I had hoped the pills would simply do their task and that would be the end of it. But, while it could be worse and the pills have helped, it hasn't proved a complete cure."

Mrs Newton looked as if she might cry but rallied. "I'm so glad you are helping him, Doctor. I don't think we could ask for a better medical practitioner."

Doctor Hibbs smiled. "You're very kind but any doctor would do the same. Now, I want you to take these." The man reached into his drawer and pulled out a bottle of small, white colored pills.

"What are they for?" The woman asked as she reached for them. She looked at the label – three long, unpronounceable words.

"We call it HEP, for brevity's sake," said Doctor Hibbs. "They are to help you. You have been under a lot of stress and worry. These will help calm you. Take two a day and they will assist you."

"But 3; I don't feel ill."

"You aren't! But they will make you more relaxed. I can tell you need it – and will need it to help Jamie. In fact, it would help if you took the first two now, so I can be sure you're taking them." The man pushed a glass of water towards the woman.

Mrs Newton stared at the bottle, then opened it and took two, as directed. She swallowed them without the water, but the doctor insisted she sipped some. Mrs Newton, looking grateful, smiled at he man after a long drink from the glass and put the pills in her purse. She stood. "Will you call me when he's ready to return home?"

"Of course," smiled the doctor. "I think this is going to be very successful. We just have to remain positive and take the pills, okay? It is important."

"Okay," smiled the woman, making to leave. "You know best."

In the silence of the white medical room, Nurse Bening sat on the doctor's lap, back to the man and her white uniform up round her waist. Doctor Hibb's thick cock was deep in the nurse's rectum and she was moving up and down. The doctor's left hand was round the nurse, clawing at the nurse's left tit, out of its bra, while his right hand was round her waist, stroking the shemale's small hard cock.

"You gave the bitch 3; the memory altering pills?" asked the nurse, gasping a little at each thrust, each squeeze and each stroke.

"Of course. Stupid cunt will take them 3; and not know what she's saying. She even drank the anti-memory compound I'd prepared 3; oh! 3; after her first pills. When we pay her a home call tomorrow 3; she'll listen to what we say and think it's her thoughts, her ideas. When we 3; ahhh,yes 3; tell her her son is to be a female, she'll accept." The man paused and snorted as he levered his cock up harder. "We will get her to sign the absolvency forms."

"You have a lot of 3; uhmm 3; faith in pills, don't you?" The nurse grunted louder at another extra hard thrust of the man's cock in her ass.

"Look at you. Ah 3; That's what pills will do."

The nurse chuckled. "Uhhh 3; And him," she said.

The two on the simple, aluminum-tube chair looked at the boy on the bed, now spread-eagled, face down, a thick electro-dildo purring in his ass.

The boy was wearing his first ever garter belt – white of course to match the sheer white nylons – and wriggling against his chains, his hips moving as he rubbed his small, hard cock against the smooth rubber sheet. The rubber was caressing his larger but still sensitive nipples, too. He was moaning into his white rubber ball gag and would be cumming soon – the sixth time that afternoon, according to the chart at the end of the bed. The pictures on the small screen on the bedhead in front of the secured boy were changing every few seconds. Hundreds of pictures of men dressed as women, cocks jutting out from under skirts, white-uniformed nurses bent over cross-dressed men sucking their small cocks, men in women's clothes kissing and stroking, men in pretty white lace underwear tied to chairs and beds, gags like Jamie's filling lipsticked mouths, close-ups of white cum running down smiling, perfectly made-up male innocent young faces. Cute little girl faces.

Jamie Newton couldn't take his eyes off them.

"When 3; ahh! 3; do we get to fuck the sissy in his ass?" asked Nurse Bening, catching a glimpse of a picture on the screen of her. A picture showing her cock buried deep in some young man's ass, semen splattered over his girdle. A white girdle, as all the converted men wore.

"Soon, when I think he's ready and 3; ah 3; his tits are bigger. When he can wear 3; uh 3; a bra 3;" The doctor was close to cumming.

"When we have his mother as ours tomorrow, can we 3; Oooff! 3; put her in with the other caged females, in the basement?"

"Of course. We need to do more experiments. 3; ahhh, wonderful! 3; on more sluts like her. Now turn your head and kiss me," whispered Doctor Hibbs. "Before I fill your ass with my hot, white cum."

On the bed Jamie was busy, pumping out his own hot, white cum as he watched a small heavily bound and gagged boy having his white skirt lifted and a thick, hard cock pushed up into his asshole. Jamie moaned, wishing it was him as yet another climax mounted and he felt his own hot white cum ready to spurt again.

"So that's the choice, Lenny," said the man sat next to the boy in the car. "You're either a Pansy, a Pretty or a Punished."

"Choice? I thought you said they decided," the 13 year old boy asked.

"Sure," the boy's Uncle Harry grinned at the boy alongside him. "They do the choosing."

Lenny nodded. "An' I have to do what they say." He thought for a moment, staring out the windshield at the large building in front of them. The big house where his life would change. Where he'd be one of the Ps. "Uncle 3; what do you think they'll choose for me?"

The man shrugged. "Guess I can't rightly say, Lenny. You're a good looking boy, maybe they'll think you'll be nice as a Pretty, just paradin' round with nothing on 'cept for a little makeup and a pink lace collar."

"And Pretties, they just have to look nice," the boy was repeating what his uncle had told him earlier, when they set off for the Club as he called it.

"Yep. Pretties just are, well, nice looking. Just so the men who go there can be excited by you and maybe cuddle up to you, kiss you and stuff. Like we do." He almost said 'did' because from now on Lenny would be out of his hands, most of the time.

The boy nodded, perhaps even understanding what hadn't been said. Lenny continued: "The Pansies just dress up as girls, right?" He looked uncomfortable saying that, but only because his experience of wearing dresses and stockings and high heels had resulted in some painful experiences when he had to bend over and flip up his skirt so his Uncle could take advantage from the rear.

Harry recognised the look on the kid's face and guessed his distress. "Not all of them want to do things to Pansies, mostly you could be just serving drinks, cleaning up 3; the kind of things womenfolk do." The middle-aged man paused. "You'll be kind of like a young woman in there, maybe wearin' a bra and stuff. If that's the Club's choice."

Lenny blushed a little. "A bra," he said quietly. "Like my mom has, but she's got tits."

"Well, some of the Pansies get to have tits too, so I guess they need to have bras then. Once they've had the operation."

The boy nodded, still looking ahead. Whatever he thought about being converted into a part-boy, part-girl he hadn't brought himself to talk about the Punisheds. Maybe he couldn't, Harry thought. He had been tied up by his Uncle and even spanked. But that was play, not punishment. Even though it hurt at the time Lenny hadn't thought he was being punished.

"You want to know about the Punisheds?" Harry asked gently, breaking the silence.

"I guess if that's what they choose I'll find out," said the boy. He wriggled a little in his seat, fidgeting because his hands had been tied in back for over an hour while they drove here. It hadn't been strictly necessary for him to be bound hand and foot (he had ropes round his ankles too) and not from the start of the drive over. But Harry saw no reason not to bind his nephew when he collected him. Except that he couldn't wave goodbye to his mother like that.

The man smiled and tousled his nephew's hair. "You'll be okay kid. If I was a gamblin' man I'd say a Pretty if ever I saw one." He wasn't sure the Pretties got things any easier, what with all the cock sucking and swallowing they had to do, but maybe the boy would think that better than being turned into a half-girl or even put in the cells. The Pretties always looked more or less free, Harry had decided since joining the Club ten years ago.

Joining on the strict understanding that one day he would, like all members, provide a boy for the Club to enjoy.

Harry started the car up and they eased forward, down the winding road that led to the gates of the big house. Towards a decision about Lenny.

The boy sat staring at the wall of the room, perched on the edge of a table with his hands now cuffed in back and a neck chain dangling down his front and attached to a ring fastened round his small penis and scrotum. He was naked and there were several faint marks on him where he had been subjected to an examination. Harry wasn't sure what to say to the disconsolate boy, other than: "I still think you'd have made one hell of a Pretty."

Lenny shrugged but didn't answer. He looked morose, and Harry wasn't sure how he could cheer him up. He didn't have to, but it seemed that's what family should try and do. "Listen, it won't be so bad 3; I know some real nice boys who 3;" But the word boys sounded hopelessly inappropriate. It wouldn't be too long before he stopped being a boy as such.

"Lenny, it could have been worse. I mean a Punished has a tough time in the cells, what with the whippings and tort 3;"

"Stop it, Uncle," glowered the boy. "I might as well be tied up and chained up as a boy instead of having to wear a skirt." There was a bitterness about him. Understandable, given the resentment he felt against females. After all, his mother hadn't stopped him going with his Uncle, had she? She hadn't intervened, never said her brother couldn't have the boy for all these games.

Now he was on the verge of being a female, of a kind.

"You don't know what they'll do to you," soothed Harry. "Not all Pansies have their cocks taken away, and some of them don't get tits."

"I know" said Lenny, a fraction less testily. "They showed me some. Pictures and a movie. But I don't know if it's better to have a cock under a skirt, or not have one at all."

"Some men here like boys in women's clothes. Just boys as they are." It was the best Harry could offer, now Lenny was out of his hands.

Well, not quite. He checked his watch: he had an appointment in ten minutes with a Pretty, down the hall in one of the bedrooms. A latino with big dark eyes and a wide grin who sucked cock really great and loved rimming a man's asshole. But Harry had a few minutes to comfort Lenny.

Harry perched on the table next to the boy and put his arm round the young teen. He looked down and saw that the scrotum ring the boy now wore was in turn attached to the table, which disappointed him. He had been hoping to lift the boy up on to his cock for one last fuck. But then Lenny's ass would be sore from the examination and what they put in him. Perhaps it was a good job he couldn't lift his ass off the table, Harry thought.

He kissed Lenny on the cheek. The boy's skin tasted salty, from the tears he had shed while being brutally examined, while the Club made its decision about him.

"They hurt me, Uncle Harry," the boy whispered.

"Has to be done, kid," smiled the Uncle, leaning round and kissing the boy's lips. It wasn't a long kiss, but it was tender and Lenny welcomed it, opening up for his Uncle's tongue. They kissed for a short while and then the man broke it. He checked Lenny's small cock, now bigger and with his balls bugling forward because of the metal ring, looking even sexier than usual.

It made Harry hard to see such a delightful sight, but he wasn't going to waste cum here. Not with that boy waiting for him. Gently Harry reached down and took his nephew's semi-hard cocklet. "Want me to make you cum?"

"Course I do," said the boy, breathing a little harder now. He never could resist his uncle's hands on him and he didn't blame him for the the Club had decided. It wasn't his doing was it? The man had merely delivered his nephew there, not made any decisions.

"Okay, one more time for good luck." Harry began rubbing the small cock between his thumb and forefinger, making it grow hard as he exercised it.

Quietly, the man moved his free hand up so he could cover the boy's mouth, just in case Lenny wanted to make any whimpering noises. Harry knew full well the house was full of sounds of boys cumming, or men cumming into boys, or boys begging or pleading or crying or even screaming at what was being done to them. But this room was quiet and the man didn't want to spoil the silence. Anyway, Harry always liked the idea of pinching the boy's nostrils closed just as the kid shot his small load out.

Lenny was used to being smothered as he came, and made no effort to resist his Uncle's grip, closing his mouth tight and then having his nose pinched shut. As usual, Harry slowed his masturbation of the boy so the boy was soon wriggling and struggling, desperately trying to cum and get his breath back.

"Hush, soon be there," whispered Harry, wanting another kiss but knowing it would have to wait until he heard the small patters of the boy's semen on the floor beneath them.

"Hmmmth" whimpered Lenny into the hand that sealed his lower face. Already his eyes were bulging, his body twitching with pleasure and fear. His palor was changing too. Harry chuckled and slowed his jerking even more. After all, he should make this moment last: if things went according to plan Lenny might not have a cock to do this to again. Maybe it would be his last climax.

But that was the future and he should think about the now. In a moment Lenny, twisting against his cock restraint and helplessly kicking his legs and making panicky noises in his throat, managed to cum. His thin semen jetted out and splattered on the hard floor, making Harry grin. With a sigh he released his iron grip on the boy's face – but only after the last pulses of cum had stopped, leaving a small puddle on the table top between his legs.

"T-thankyou," gasped Lenny as he clawed his breath back

"See, it isn't so bad after all, is it?" Harry leaned in as the boy shook his head and kissed those pretty lips, which would he knew look so much better with slut-like collagen implants. The man ran his hand over the boy's chest, thinking what it would be like to feel little tits on them, imagining too how the boy would look with no cock and balls. Just a hairless slit between his legs as he teetered round on five-inch [12½ cm] high heels with his butt shimmying in that sexy little way only converted boys can manage. The thing that drove most men to instant erections.

But then he didn't doubt it would happen to Lenny. The Club had followed all Harry's recommendations so far, and as President he had no reason to think they wouldn't do exactly what he said.

Jack Miller stood in the doorway of the living room, unable to believe what he was seeing. The female bound to a hardback chair and so well gagged might have been his wife Jane. A younger version of his 33 year old wife.

But it wasn't Jane, all trussed up as the man liked to see her. It was their only son, Bobby.

For a moment the man didn't know what to do, finding Bobby like this. His instinct, as father, should have been to rush to the pre-teen boy and free him, get his gag out and demand to know what had happened. But the part of him that loved bondage and sex wanted to drink in this sight for as long as he could, feeling his cock harden in his pants at the vision.

It was quite a vision too. The 12 year old boy was sitting perfectly still in his mesh of tight ropes, arms fastened behind him and knees tightly bound together, wearing one of Jane's black skirts and cream satin blouses with the all too obvious bumps of large breasts beneath. The boy wore dark stockings and polished black high heels – Jack could see them under the intricately woven ropes tied round Bobby's feet to keep them on. Despite the ball gag the boy looked extremely feminine with plenty of make-up: beautifully made-up eyes, a little rouge on his cheeks and red glossy lips stretched round the black rubber ball in his mouth.

Even the boy's hair was identical to Jane's. Chestnut red curls, falling to his shoulders, and at the boy's throat Jack could see the gleam of a pearl necklace. The expensive necklace Jack had bought Jane for their last wedding anniversary.

Had it been Jane bound and gagged like this it would be, as far as Jack was concerned, the perfect welcome home after a hard day at the office. A surprise, but one he dreamed of. What he could see here was very much a surprise too, and as Bobby looked so much like Jane perhaps the next best thing. Especially as the boy was so docile, not struggling or crying or trying to shout.

Jack took in the sight of his son, looking like his wife, and then walked over to him. He took the envelope pinned to the front of Bobby's blouse – the one with big red letters on it saying: "Important: Read this First" and opened it.

Bobby sat quite still and silent as Jack began to read the letter inside, one obviously from his wife's hand.

Dear Jack,

I guess this must be quite a surprise for you, coming home and finding Bobby like this. It has taken some arranging to all this right but I am pleased with the effect and I hope you are too. Whatever your instincts though please read all this letter through carefully before releasing Bobby. Don't worry about him in his bondage: he understands perfectly.

In fact, I would think he would be disappointed if you untied him and told him to go and take off my clothes without reading all this letter and thinking things through.

Bobby has been very good and co-operated throughout my training him. Training him for a purpose.

You see, I have decided to leave you and let Bobby take my place. He can, with patience and understanding, become the perfect copy of me – the woman in your life you always wanted.

I am sure this is a shock to you but it's only right that I let you know why I decided to go. I have left you for a woman I met some time ago. You don't know her but she has proved to be a perfect lover for me. We will be relocating to California but please don't try to find me: I have a new identity and new look and I won't be coming back.

Being married to you Jack was hard for me. I had a secret longing for a female lover and Susan took some finding. A lot of trial and error, all kept from you I am sad to say. But you wanted a wife who dresses sexily, wear high heels all the time, loves bondage and enjoys being screwed in the ass and mouth. Oh yes, and one who kept herself looking young and innocent. I knew I could never meet those ideals, and didn't want to meet them.

Seemed to me however that we could both get what we wanted, thanks to Bobby, who has been perfect.

Jack looked at his feminized son and felt his cock swell again at what he was seeing. Yes, the boy did look wonderful like this and all kinds of dark and delicious thoughts stirred in him. The man went back to the letter.

I trained Bobby for almost nine months, after I found him trying on my clothes one day. You never knew because I made Bobby promise to do what I said. I told him if he did things my way, then you wouldn't find out and ground him for a year or whatever and he could carry on wearing my things. Or the sexy things, anyway, which pleased him.

I trained him to be the new me. He wore lots of my clothes when you weren't around, practiced walking in high heels, got used to putting on a bra and hooking nylons to a garter belt, knows how to do his hair (a wig at the moment but his will grow) and even does the housework. It's surprisingly easy to educate boys to be docile housewives if they are allowed do the washing and ironing and cleaning in high heels, stockings and lingerie!

By the way, you will have noticed his boobs – you can hardly miss them! I have bought silicon filled false tits for him to wear in his bra, boobs that can be glued to his chest if needed and look quite realistic. They are, of course, rather bigger than my real boobs and I guess you will be fascinated by them being so large. Happy feeling up, Jack!

More than anything you will be pleased to know I also trained him to be good in bed. Susan provided me with a strap-on dildo and Bobby learned to take it in the ass – and I taught him to suck it as if it was a real dick too. The two ways you most wanted me to perform for you and I found it so difficult.

Also I trained Bobby to appreciate bondage. You know I wasn't happy with being bound and gagged by you (though Susan does it to me and I find that incredibly different and utterly arousing) and our son took to it well, I have to admit. I tied Bobby in all sorts of ways when he was in my clothes and believe me, what you see in front of you is tame compared with some of the ways I bound him up. He even had his ass paddled when he didn't do some task properly, so he understands the need for discipline you'll be pleased to know.

But like I say, Bobby is the new Jane. New and improved as the advertising people say.

Jack took another look at Bobby, wondering how he missed all this secret activity and training, but he had been away on business a lot and often out at weekends. The two of them – three if this Susan was involved – had plenty of time to get all this done. The man went back to the letter.

So the next stage is up to you Jack. You can free Bobby, let him resume being a boy and go and find a new wife. I won't contest any divorce and want nothing of my old life with you. Or you can allow him to be the female he wants to be, and more important the female you want him to be, right down to his little lace panties.

I have left all my clothes (my tight dresses and the short skirts and see-through tops and of course all that lingerie and underwear you bought me, plus the high heels) and a lot of makeup. You may even want to take him shopping for more sexy clothes: I have done and he makes a totally convincing young woman. Hell, I could have got him a couple of dates at the mall from very interested men!

I have every reason to think Bobby will make you the perfect wife, and that includes being in bed. You see, I may not love you Jack as I thought I once did but I do want you to be happy after the years of disappointment with me. Bobby, as your new wife, can do that.

On this marital thing one more point. When Bobby is sixteen he can become your real wife. There are a couple of places that have a local law allowing a man to marry anyone 16 or over, and I hear that includes young males. I would think by then though Bobby would have proved to be an outstanding female and no one would ever know in any State, but you might want to keep it totally legal. Like I say, all this is up to you, though I imagine you still find wedding dresses a turn-on and may want to see Bobby suitably attired in virgin white for his big day. Maybe with ankles chained under the long lace-trimmed dress, as you wished I'd been obliged to wear on our wedding day thirteen years ago.

You may wonder at this point how you will cope with your mom and dad finding out about all this: well, to put your mind at rest, they already know. Your mom and dad have been great, met Susan (and like her, especially your mom who I think has quite a leaning towards strong, domineering women too) and they both want me and you to be happy in our own ways. They have seen Bobby dressed up and acting as me and thoroughly approve, indeed your mom has some good ideas about teaching Bobby to be an even better wife and has got him cooking and working in the kitchen. She also has taken him to the mall and got him appointments at the corset shop – not because Bobby needs it with his slim waist but because it's another way for him to be restrained.

Your mom thinks submissive young women should be well strapped up under their clothes and likes the idea of Bobby encased in a tight pink corset – well, each to their own I guess!

On that subject I must tell you that your pop surprised me (and very much surprised Bobby) by wanting to lift his skirt and smack his ass. Seems he always wanted to do that to me and I imagine slapping the back of Bobby's legs and his derrière when he's in my clothes is a good substitute for doing it to me. Several times your father came round specially to spank Bobby's ass and it seems to have done the boy good to be handled so strictly by a mature man. Incidentally, your father made a fine set of heavyweight manacles (they're on a shelf in the garage if you need them) which Bobby wore from time to time as a punishment when doing the housework. Believe me, it all helped.

I have to say your mom and dad have been astonishingly supportive in all this and I guess I will miss their friendliness and enthusiasm. You are lucky to have such good parents, Jack. They will help a lot over the coming weeks and months, I know.

So that's all I can tell you, Jack. Bobby has been trained, likes to be disciplined, wants to be female and put to good use. I don't even think he'll miss me, so don't worry on that score. Oh yes, I have taken care of his education needs with home learning which you may want to continue, unless you want to send him to school as a girl. Up to you from now on, though if he dates another boy you may get jealous!

Okay, I have to go now. I will, by the time you read this, be a long way from you – in both body and spirit. Susan I know will want to tie me up and spank me for spending so much time and effort with this letter but I don't mind. Funny how I see her doing it to me as preferable to you doing it!

Take care, Jack, and look after your new wife, Bobby.'

One last thing. When you look under his skirt you will find I have provided him with a butt plug and his cock and balls are in a little stainless steel chastity cage, the key for which is in the bedroom. I think you will agree however that keeping his small cock locked out of the way both increases his feminized state and doesn't spoil the line of even the tightest skirt with a little bulge, though seeing that swelling may turn you on.

I am sure you will soon realize there may be issues over letting Bobby cum. My advice, if I can offer it, is to let him out of his cock cage once a month if he has been good and allow him to jerk off, probably while looking at some fashion catalog with women in their underwear. Or maybe pictures of himself, dressed up for sex. I am sure you will decide what's best for him. Incidentally I allowed him to look at pictures of you, photos from our vacation down on the beach, while he whacked off – with a two minute deadline to climax. It helped get him to think of you as the one he should please and admire, and it was also fun watching him with his skirt held up, panties round his knees and masturbating furiously to cum quickly, before I locked the cage back on him.

Okay, that's really it now. Goodbye and good fucking. J.

The man briefly thought about his wife and this Susan female, wondering where they were. But Jane was right: she was gone, and it was time to move on. In some ways he would miss her, but not many ways. Not if Bobby here lived up to the all the things his wife had written about.

The man stepped up to the chair and straddled the boy, facing him. He could smell his wife's perfume on the boy and he smiled. Every detail was perfect. Jack reached behind the boy's chestnut hair and undid the gag, easing the rubber ball out of his lipsticked mouth.

Without a word he slipped his stiff cock from his pants and slid it into the waiting open mouth, sighing as Bobby closed his lips around the thick, veiny shaft and expertly began sucking while licking the sensitive underside of Jack's cock.

Jack groaned with pleasure. The boy was good – no, make that his new wife was good. In a few minutes of this careful tonguing and sucking he would cum down his – or her – throat. Then he could use his new, sexy wife any way he pleased. Untied, spanked, taken upstairs and be tied up once more and fucked in the ass on the big marital bed.

The man thought about all the things he would do, the dressing and tying and fucking. Yes, Bobby would be a perfect wife. No, make that Bobbi, the man grinned as he came like never before.

You have to earn a black bra. Simone knew it, even from when she was Simon and first arrived at Mentor Towers.

When Simone was a boy, he had seen the other girls with their sheer blouses and different colored bras showing through. The white ones were the young, innocent new arrivals. Like he became, feeling that sense of awe and fear as his first bra was placed on his flat, 12 year old chest and fastened in back.

Thank goodness there was a real woman there to do it for him. Awe and fear? Ah yes, the awesome feeling that a boy was wearing a bra, feeling how tight it was. Making him think like a girl. The fear was easy to explain: Simon to become Simone was scared he would always be a girl from then on.

Well, fear can be irrational, can't it? Like being scared of the dark, but only because you can't see there's nothing to worry about. But it was still scary, feeling the bra on you, looking in the mirror and seeing the straps and the lace edges on the bra cups, turning to see the band across your back. It didn't matter there was nothing to fill the cups: it was the bra itself that made him feel so, well, girly.

Even knowing other boys there – boys that were boys once, at least – would see his bra. Of course, he could see theirs: that was the idea wasn't it? Each boy seeing the other girl's bras.

That was the most confusing at first, thinking that everyone at Mentor Towers had once been a boy, no matter how much they looked like a girl now. The way they moved, their long hair, the hint of make-up. The way their skirts swished as they walked. The coy looks, even a few blushes of arousal at seeing another boy they liked. Sorry, another girl.

Especially the ones in the black bras, that really showed up through their uniform blouse. They were almost entirely girls now. They'd earned it by being good at what they did. What they had become.

Simone had to get used to the idea of not only being in a bra and other boys (or girls) seeing it, but letting his mom and dad see it too. Visiting day, once a month. Standing in the visiting room in front of the comfortable chairs the parents used, standing to attention, hands at the side of his pleated gray skirt, so his parents could admire how he looked. They could see his polished black shoes, the white ankle socks, how his skirt hung (no unsightly bulges, young lady!), the sheer blouse and the bra underneath.

They could also see his blushing cheeks. Well, it was hard being studied like this. The way his mother lifted the hem of his pleated uniform skirt and examined his panties. White, of course, to match the bra. Simone was really embarrassed that the first time his mommy did it, but he got a little hard in his panties.

"It's okay, honey," said his mom. "We understand. Being a little girl can do that to a boy." She was really thinking, training to be a little girl.

"Um, yes, mommy," Simone had said, and for heaven's sake, even felt it get a little harder as she looked. Fortunately she lowered his skirt and hid his half-erection.

But he tried, she really did. But things go wrong.

Mrs Sidwell in the corridor: "Simone, how many times must you be told that girls do not have swellings in their panties? It spoils the line of your skirt, young lady."

Sara, grinning at Simone between lessons: "What do you think you have to do to get a red bra? No really, they have them. I know!"

Miss Lee-Naylor, in her large classroom overlooking the lawns: "That, girl, is naughty! Stretch your hand out and I will cane you if I see you tenting your school skirt again. You do not get excited by other girls, no matter how pretty they are. The black bra is a token of progress, not an incitement to feel aroused!"

Leanne, in the dark in the dormitory: "I need someone to rub me, under my nightdress, please Simone? Please!"

Dr Edith Jones, Mentor Towers Principal, in her office: "I understand, Simone, you have been permitting other girls to see your panties. I shudder to think what they would want to do then. Perhaps you need a few days of special lessons. On your own, in the correction class."

Myra, kissing Simone, putting her hand up Simone's skirt. Feeling and not saying anything: "Oh, if only I had a black bra, whispered Simone, hands on the other girl's flat chest, stroking the lace through the sheer white blouse, feeling the girl's small but hard nipples."

Nurse Edmonds, in the examination room: "I hope this isn't that disgusting male semen in your panties, young lady. Have you been masturbating again?"

Madame Brigitte, French and Corsetry teacher: "So, ma petite chérie, hold your chest up so I can see how the black brassiere fits. Ah, oui, is good."

Dr Edith Jones, Mentor Towers Principal, in her office: "I am very disappointed in you, Simone. Such a promising student. Now remove your blouse and bra and put this red one on."

Mrs Hauptmann, Science and Locksmith teacher: "There, that revolting little thing is caged properly now. Now, girl, pull up your panties and let's have no more of this playing with yourself nonsense."

Jennifer, running her hands over the cage and the little gleaming padlock: "Does it hurt, Simone, if I tickle it with this pencil point through the little bars?"

Ms Karen, gleaming in her latex one-piece with the zipper down and her large breasts spilling out, swishing the cane. Not scowling or shouting, just breathing the words: "Six hard strokes on your panties, Simone, and please try to hold your skirt up properly this time."

Simone, bound to the whipping post: "Please, Dr Jones and Ms Karen, no more! I'll be a good girl, I promise! I won't do that ag- Mmmmph! Mnnth!"

Oh, how it hurts!

How she cried, rivers of tears soaking through her thin blouse, dampening her red bra.

This wasn't visiting day as such, though Simone's mom and dad were there in Dr Jones' office.

Simone, in her neatly pressed school uniform with her red bra prominent through her blouse, standing smartly to attention. Mouth sealed with black tape, chains at her ankles and wrists, waiting while mommy and daddy discussed what to do with the naughty pupil.

Dr Jones was saying she is probably ready, earlier than expected. Mom and dad agreeing, nodding, not looking at their chained and gagged daughter now. The red bra told it all anyway. They had heard how she needed to be corrected, refined. Trained harder.

Dr Jones was holding up some picture, letting the parents choose which man should purchase their daughter Simone. They were agreeing that the older man, the one who looked like Colonel Sanders – distinguished, responsible, wealthy – was the best of them. Colonel Sanders had given Simone a glowing report when he had inspected her too. Hardly had to spank her at all across his knee before she shot her cum into her red panties.

A good man, and a good price. Everyone was pleased. Mommy kissed her daughter goodbye, a little kiss on the girl's smooth gagged lips and of course, one last look up that pleated skirt, checking the bright panties and looking at the red marks from the whip across the front and back of Simone's legs. Something to remember her by.

Then they left, saying thankyou to Dr Jones and Mentor Towers for such an excellent education for Simone, how they hoped she'd be happy with this kind man.

Simone might have cried, but girls are taught to be strong here. Strong eventually, as they all learn.

The girl wasn't crying, but she was excited. Her little cock, inside the red panties, would have got harder if it hadn't been for the polished cage around it, he little padlock under her tiny balls. She wanted to rub it, but she couldn't. She quivered, desperately but quietly. But then all she could think of was the man who would own her. She just hoped this nice gentleman would buy her a new, all lace bra when he took her away.

White or black or red, it didn't matter what the color was providing Simone could wear it so everyone could see.

Even a pink bra, maybe. Simone trembled a little more at the nice thought and felt her small, poor cock in its cage stir in futility. Yes, a pink one please with lots of lace and a pretty little ribbon bow between the lace-covered cups. She'd do anything for that, anything at all.

I was nervous, walking up the pathway to my sister's house. I guess I had every right to be. I was visiting to use her son as my lover, and I had no idea what to expect.

My sister Deanne was a couple of years older than me. She lived in a quiet part of town, pleasant houses and neat lawns. Nothing about it suggested here was a woman who would let me make love to her son, but then that was the way I wanted it. Deanna had known me all along, so I guess as she had seen me wear her clothes when I was young she understood what made me tick.

But even loving sisters can be surprised by the revelation that as much as I liked putting on her skirts and dresses and trying on her panties and training bra, I really wanted a small boy to wear them for me. I guess we are all a little weird in some way. Mine was wanting to have a boy lover.

As she had invited me to visit, I presumed that she had gotten over her surprise that I was turned on by wanting to have a small boy as a lover. But it still made me kinda nervous to make my way to her house.

Let me explain about Deanna. She had no husband, so anything I did at her place wasn't going to be a problem with anyone else. Deanna was 29, still a pretty hot woman though I am sure you understand that apart from her clothes I had no great desire to fuck her. She had a brief, pretty disastrous affair with some guy and little Stevie – who was now eight – was the result. Cute, the way small boys can be.

As Deanna was almost three years older than me, about the time she was starting to fill out her first bras I was getting horny over thinking I ought to be wearing them. She had taken it pretty calmly when she caught me all dressed up, in fact I am pretty sure without her eagerness to do my hair, put make-up on me and try all her clothes on I might not have been as interested as I was.

But I also knew, when I was dressed up and pretending to be little Kelly Ann, I was trying to picture someone else in those clothes. Me pouting at myself in the mirror was also me wanting to imagine another boy pouting at me in some hot little dress with no glass between us. I kept that part of it from Deanna though in truth I didn't really know quite how I felt then. Oh sure, I liked Deanne jerking me off in her panties to see how much boymilk (as she called it) I could make, but part of me wanted to have a boy do it to me. I just didn't know how much I wanted it back then.

Deanna greeted me at the door. She looked as good as she always did, but I wasn't here to admire her slim body in the low cut sweater and admire her long legs in a short, tight skirt. I did wonder if she wore them to say to me: "Hey, you might want little Stevie but how about fucking me instead?"

If she thought that she was barking not only up the wrong tree but the wrong forest entirely. Fortunately, she wasn't though even i could tell she had something on her mind.

Deanna, being my loving sister, gave me a hug on the doorstep and guided me in to her home. I landed a kiss on her full red lips and she looked at me demurely like she was saying: "Naughty!"

I glanced round, looking for Stevie. I wasn't sure what condition (or for that matter clothes) I'd see him in but he wasn't around. "Listen, honey," said my sister, linking her arm through mine and taking me to the living room. "I have to talk to you about something."

Shit, I thought, bang goes my fun. She's had some sort of crisis of conscience. Funny really, as she didn't usually bother. She sat me down and placed herself opposite me, and as she leaned forward I got the perfect view down the valley of her tits. Like I say, if I was that way inclined I could have had then and there. But once was enough. Back when I was fourteen I tried her. Enjoyable, but not enjoyable enough, though I was wearing her black lace garter belt and stockings at the time.

"Honey," she said to me. "I know you are really looking forward to having Stevie as your little lover and I guess I'm pretty excited too. But I've been thinking."

I tried not to register disappointment, but I needn't have worried. "My son's all ready for you in his bedroom and I have to say he looks real cute. I spent quite a bit of time and money on him to make him look just right for you, and if you don't get a woodie when you see him you ain't trying, brother." She grinned at me and nodded at the front of my pants, which were already showing a healthy sign. "But my things is – and I never told you this – I need to be there too."

I sat up and my stiff pecker started to dip. The last thing I wanted was my sister interfering, maybe even telling me I shouldn't fuck the little darling. "Oh stop looking so damned worried," she said. "I am not, repeat not, going to get in the way. In fact, bro, I want you to make sure I don't do anything to stop you. You don't know this but I have started to have a thing about being tied up. Yeah, you may well look surprised. Gagged too. So I figure if I am in there but all bound and gagged you can do it in front of me."

My sister paused and laughed. "In fact, think about it. I get to be all helpless while you do what you want to pretty little Stevie and I can't do a damn thing about it."

I nodded and felt my cock reassuringly get back some of its strength. "Would be kinda fun to have you there, but I warn you sis – I will tie you hard, and when I gag you trust me you stay gagged." I couldn't really see what Deanne was going to get out of this but maybe sheer frustration and helplessness was enough. Like I always say, I might dress in a woman's things but that's as far as it goes when it comes to understanding them. "Okay," I agreed. "let's do it."

I followed Deanne to her son's bedroom. Of course I knew where it was. My sister might not have known that I had slipped in there a few times, to corner the boy and play with his small dick. Kiss him too, which was always nice.

Anyway we went straight in and there was the most heavenly sight. Little Stevie was stood on a stool, dressed in a yellow and pink spotted dress, with a short flared skirt and little puff short sleeves. He had white ankle socks on with pink lace tops and cute polished mary jane shoes. On his wrists he had little bangles and bracelets and round his neck a cheap, glittery necklace. The sort little girls like. Best of all was his face: perfectly made up with bright red lips, glossed, and lots of blue eye shadow and mascara. His eyebrows had been plucked into a feminine arch and on his earlobes were two large, pearl button earrings. His hair, normally a tousled mop of blond, had been combed and styled into a fabulous little girl's hairstyle, with bangs and two small pink bows in his hair, one on each side.

My cock had been semi-erect but it almost tore through my pants now. "Fuck," I said as I saw this vision. I could have rushed over to him right then and there and drilled him with my aching cock.

"Hi Uncle Willy," said Stevie, giving me a small coy wave from where he stood and the bangles on that wrists made a pleasant tinkling sound.

"Lift your skirt, sweetheart," said the boy's mommy over my shoulder. "Show your uncle your panties."

Little Stevie giggled like a girl and lifted the hem of his skirt, revealing the most divine pair of pale pink panties covered in bands of blue lace. I couldn't see the boy's small cocklet in there but I knew it was waiting for me. I gulped loudly in appreciation.

"But me first," said Deanna. "Tie me to this chair here, please."

I saw the chair. It was a straight, hard back chair with a pile of ropes next to it. Deanna settled herself on it and put her hands over the back. As much as I wanted the boy, I had agreed to this so I set to work, lashing my sister to it. I really got into it too and soon had her pinned tightly to it, shoudlers straining back and tits out, legs bound wide apart. I asked if it was tight enough and she groaned in pleasure. It was the last sound she made for a while as I tied a knotted scarf in her mouth and then taped it over. When I asked her how she felt again, she made a real indistinct noise. I patted her head. "You're done, sis," I said.

I even gave her tits a squeeze. Not out of friendliness or erotic pleasure, but a sharp reminder of pain. As I squeezed hard I twisted her boob sharply. She made an "unnnth" sound into her gag. I did it to first one and then the other. I swear a tear even appeared at the corner of her eyes.

I walked over to Stevie who was watching wide eyed at what I had done to his mommy. But I wasn't bothered about what he thought, only what I was going to do to him.

I took the boy in my arms and planted a huge kiss on his red gloss lips, pushing my tongue into his little mouth. He made some strange sound in his throat, which I took to be pleasure. Stevie sure was a good little kisser and we enjoyed the intimacy for a good few minutes. I opened my eye and caught a glimpse of my sister, all trussed up, staring at us in a kind of wild-eyed "make me cum" way. I hoped she was getting what she wanted out of this: I know I sure was.

My hands roamed over my nephew (he had his arms round my neck) and I was feeling his cute little butt though the panties. I was sure I could feel his tiny little erect penis against my belly too, and gyrated my body a little so the friction would rub on it.

The stool the cross-dressed boy was standing on was just the right height and I flipped my hard cock out to poke it between his bobby-sox ankles. I could have shot my load then and there all over his polished shoes and his socks but I resisted the urge.

I hoisted the boy up and dropped him on his bed. His little skirt flew up and he made no effort (very unlike a real girl, I thought) to push it down. I tore my clothes off and turned the kid over on his face, tugging at his panties to get them down to his knees. Behind me I could hear the watching Deanna moaning in frustration, which somehow increased my determination to give Stevie's little ass a good humping in front of her.

"Wait, Uncle Willy," said the boy, craning his head round over his shoulder.

"What?" I said.

"Please," the kid begged. "Can you tie me up like my mommy? So's I can be like her."

"Stevie, I can't tie you to a chair 'cos I can't get at your asshole."

The boy grinned. "I know, Uncle, I know. But you can tie me face down, can't you?"

I was desperate to spear the boy and though he was right, he was also wrong. I could tie him face down, but not this time. "Nah 3; later," I said, holding him down and pressing my rigid cock to his tight little back passage. "Hold still, girl," I said. "This will hurt."

"Yes sir," he said. "Please gag me with your hand."

It was the least I could do, clamping my hand over his rich red lipped mouth and sliding my thick cock up into him. Deanna had lubed his back passage for me in readiness but it would still make the kid yelp. I even tried to position myself so that Deanna, tied to the chair, could see my shaft entering her son's ass.

Stevie howled and cried and struggled, as indeed did his mom watching, but I was soon getting up a good rhythm, driving my rigid dick in and out of his butt, feeling my balls slapping against his cute little rear and getting ready to help pump my thick cum into the pretty boy's tight ass. With care I could keep this going for ten minutes easily and I had every intention of trying for fifteen. It was just about the best fuck anyone had ever had 3;

When I had filled him with cum and I was done I lay, cuddling the child, consoling him as he sobbed gently from the pain. That's when I decided on the next course of action. I lifted the lightweight boy off the bed. "Hey Stevie, time to hurt your mom some, huh?"

The little boy looked at me in surprise. He may have known his mom would be tied up but not that he'd get to hurt her. He wiped his tears away and smiled. I guided the boy over to his mother who was looking at us wide eyed, the kid waddling as he still had his panties round his knees. "Okay, lover boy, this is what I want you to do. Now, see your mommy has tits?" I reached out and seized one and gave the sharp twist I had done before, but harder this time. The female almost exploded in pain. "Now, your hands aren't big enough to do this but look here." I took my leather belt from my pants and showed it to the boy. "You're going to use this on her tits. Don't worry, lover, it won't hurt you. Only her."

"Okay, Uncle Willy," said Stevie as he took the belt. I showed him how to fold it over and where to hit his mom's tempting boobs. My sister was mmphing into her gag in panic. Guess she hadn't thought of this eventuality. Well, she'd learn.

Stevie's first efforts at swiping at those mammaries wasn't great, but with practice he began to hit them most every time. "Do it harder," I urged the boy and in a few moments he was lashing them hard. Tears were rolling down his mom's face and she was howling anew into her gag. I stroked her hair as her son beat her sore tits. I didn't want Deanna thinking I didn't care. I also, with my other hand, rubbed the little boy's dick through his pretty dress. It got surprisingly hard and he clearly was enjoying this.

"Okay, that's enough for now, lover," I said as I stopped rubbing him up and took the belt off him. Stevie looked disappointed.

"Okay, Uncle Willy," he said. "Will mom be alright?" He asked, looking at the way tears were falling from her face.

"Of course she will, she loves it really," I said. "I wouldn't do anything to really hurt her, would I?" Then I laughed. "Though you might."

"Sure," said the boy with a chuckle.

"When you are bigger and I do this you can even shoot cum on her tortured nody. Now, that'd be fun, right?"

The boy nodded eagerly. "Now can we fuck some more please Uncle?"

"Okay, with you tied down?"

The little boy nodded more than before and as I was ready for some more action on my cock I couldn't think of anything I'd like better.

There was enough rope left over to bind the boy spread eagle and face down, a pillow under his front to raise his ass up. I gagged the boy this time as I wanted both hands free and set about slowly riding him, hearing him sob with the pain of another severe invasion from my thick, hard cock.

I didn't make it last as long this time and soon had shot my load in him, leaving him lying crying on the bed while I went to make myself a drink and catch up with the afternoon TV shows.

It was later on when I went back and untied Deanna's arms but not her spread legs, and as she could see clearly her son all tied up on the bed her hand rushed up her skirt to finally bring herself off. When she had finished and I removed her gag she gasped: "That was fucking awesome, brother."

"Did your little boygirl hurt you?"

"Damn right he did. God it was painful but I came so hard."

"Well, thank Stevie. He's going to be good at punishing you and I have to say he is the best little lover a man can have."

"Oh yes," gasped Deanna, frigging herself as fast as she could.

I moved right in a few weeks later. Little Stevie wears pretty little girl clothes all the time now and he really knows how to dance on the end of my cock. Well, we get plenty of practice. He also gets tied up and thoroughly enjoys being fucked bound and gagged. As I well know, there are lots of ways to do that and I am sure we can think of some more.

As for Deanna, she's getting used to wearing chains when she's not tied up and we are making good progress torturing her. I think Stevie will make an excellent torturer and already has some good ideas. He likes her in a small cage overnight and my sister even goes and locks herself in it. Good slut, we say to her when she does it.

For my part I'm just happy to relax in my new home, fuck some and enjoy life with my nephew, my lover.

The End