Date: Fri, 23 Jan 2009 06:28:11 -0800 (PST) From: Exprmntle <exprmntle (at) yahoo (dot) com> Subject: Two Days Two Days By Exprmntle at yahell dot com At just before noon in the sunny, crisp morning, barely morning at all, they woke up. Charlotte ordinarily didn't wake up that early in the day. What was the point? Most of the things she wanted to do didn't start until quite late. At midnight, Charlotte could often still be found primping in her boudoir, having spent hours creating a perfect dramatic effect. Only then would she go out, making the rounds of the exclusive clubs and gatherings. But this afternoon, she had one of her weekly pedicure/manicure sessions scheduled and she liked to have a little breakfast before the people attended to her. She smiled cruelly as she thought about the full-service treatment she usually received. Jeannie ordinarily didn't wake up that early, either. Jeannie (who until just a while ago, was a boy named Gene) didn't need beauty rest, but she took all she got. Like her mother, Jeannie preferred to go to the late-night parties, sometimes attending with Charlotte, sometimes stalking her own hunting ground. But today, she had a date with a friend and she wanted to take some time to get ready before she met him at the movie theater. Movies were not her usual entertainment choice. She much preferred nightclubbing. This boy was something special, however; he knew him from before. She smiled to herself as she considered the possibilities. Charlotte swung one of her long, evenly tanned legs out of bed, sweeping the covers out of the way with an elegant gesture and lifting the hem of her long, sheer, blue nightgown so she could step into one of her slippers -- a pair of mules with a five inch heel and a puff of matching blue-dyed marabou. Her feet were caressed in a perfect arch by the shoes, which made her pelvis tilt forward, presenting her juicy, rounded ass for casual inspection and not incidentally thrusting her not inconsiderable breasts out, too. She shrugged into the matching robe and strutted to the breakfast table. Jeannie swung one of her long, pale legs out of bed, after shoving the covers off with her delectable, slender feet. She slept nude, although her body was covered in delightful little adornments. On her slim, toned right biceps, she had intertwined strands of rose stem, thorns encircling them with perfect symmetry. On her ankles, she had little wings. On her toes were tiny, sparkling toe-rings. She had multiple piercings on each ear, a shiny stud in her right eyebrow, a stud in her tongue, and, her new toys -- a pair of diamond studs in her nipples. They had set her step-father, Ted, back thousands of dollars but not only did she not care, she thought that Ted owed her, just as she thought that her large, firm breasts were only her due. She sat for a moment, legs spread, allowing her long, slightly smelly penis, with its Prince-Albert piercing, to dangle obscenely between her legs. Then, she rose from bed and took her black silk kimono from the hook before walking (dancing really) to the breakfast table. Charlotte looked up from her newspaper as Jeannie entered the room, gazing over the rims of her designer reading glasses. "Well," Charlotte murmured, dismissing the servant with a glance before returning to her paper. "You've certainly looked better." "Mummy," Jeannie began. "Jeannie," Charlotte said. "I've told you many times: if you don't respect yourself, no man is going to respect you. Just look at yourself. Come here." Jeannie came slinking over to her mother, her kimono rustling against her skin and her various piercings. Charlotte turned her chair, which rolled on silent metal casters so that she could fact Jeannie directly. "Now, Jeannie," said Charlotte. "This is exactly what I mean." Charlotte reached between Jeannie's silky smooth legs and ran her blood-red fingernails up the inside of Jeannie's thigh. She reached Jeannie's crotch and felt her dick and balls, which began to pulse warmly in her hand. Charlotte drew them forward, parting Jeannie's Kimono with them so they stood out, luridly incongruous against the ultra feminine silk. Reaching with her other hand, she pinched the base of Jeannie's balls. "Will I have to get this pierced too? Or perhaps an anus piercing? So that I can padlock this wandering cock of yours? I mean, honestly, darling, I understand that you feel responsible for having new adventures to amuse Ted, but..." Charlotte paused. She leaned forward and sniffed Jeannie's genitals. "Your dick smells like you've been up to some very naughty extracurricular activities." "Mummy," Jeannie protested. "I thought you told me to do what I wanted." Still holding her cock and balls in one hand, Charlotte squeezed, a little roughly, her long nails digging in a bit. Then , she reached between Jeannie's legs and pressed a finger into Jeannie's anus. It gave way and Charlotte found her finger snuggled tightly in Jeannie's ass-pussy. She looked Jeannie in the eye and Jeannie looked away, rolling her eyes. "Yes, Mummy," she said, biting her own tongue gently. "I saw a few friends last night. But I told Ted about them when I came home. I told him ALL about it." "Honestly, darling," continued Charlotte, pushing her finger farther into Jeannie's butt. "You simply must make things more of a challenge for the boys. They'll enjoy it more! You'll enjoy it more, too." She withdrew her probing finger from Jeannie's ass, and brought it to her lips, licking it clean, absently, as she released Jeannie's penis, which had begun to swell. She waved Jeannie over to one of the chairs then touched a small bell on the table. Jeannie hastily rearranged her kimono, bending at the waist to obscure her throbbing member, then sat, with her legs crossed, dangling a pampered bare foot. In a moment, the servants returned, placing breakfast before Jeannie. "Jeannie, I'm going out after I bathe," said Charlotte. "For my weekly spa treatment. What are your plans for the day?" "Mmm," mumbled Jeannie, swallowing. "I am going to the movies." "What," asked Charlotte, amused. "Is it a date?" "Um," stammered Jeannie. "Maybe." Charlotte laughed. "With a regular boy? Not a conquest from the clubs?" "Yes, Mummy; a regular boy." "Ah, someone you met at school," asked Charlotte, a smile curving one corner of her full mouth. "Oh, Jeannie, don't you get it? You're not to meet boys for innocent romantic afternoon trips to the movies." She paused as the servants bustled around the room. "Jeannie, your step-father has more important things for you to do." "I know, Mummy," said Jeannie, blushing. "But this is a very nice boy. I think he... could have potential." "Do not, my dear, make Mummy angry," said Charlotte. "Don't do anything that could make me... or your stepfather... disappointed." They ate the rest of their breakfasts in silence. After her hour-long session with her personal trainer, Lena, Charlotte returned to her boudoir. She worked out with Lena because she was one of the few wholly heterosexual people Charlotte had ever met and she could rely on a business-like atmosphere in the gym. Charlotte removed all her clothes, standing naked in front of a bank of mirrors, skillfully angled so that she could comfortably scrutinize every angle of her body. She inspected it carefully -- it had long been one of her most valuable possessions. Dark hair; tanned, wrinkle-free skin; full lips; large, natural breasts, toned to perfection by exercise (and some artfully done surgical work); large brown areolas with big, thick nipples; a relatively flat belly; unobjectionably curvy hips, with a matching derriere; long, perfectly turned legs; flawless feet. She considered the merits of each of her assets, pleased with their progress and gratified by the returns she had received from them: Her body and her skillful use of it had garnered for her a wonderful second husband who was even richer than her first. It also got her all the companionship she could desire. After her hour-long session with her personal trainer, Frank, Jeannie returned to her boudoir. Frank had been selected because he was a heterosexual male in a committed, monogamous relationship. In addition to the physical training Jeannie received, she was also under orders from her mother to ruin Frank's marriage. "Have fun with it," Charlotte had said brightly when she had told Jennie of her new trainer. Jeannie had felt awkward at first but had been making steady headway for weeks now. Sometimes, Frank didn't even bother to conceal his increasing lust for this gorgeous creature. His sweats would bulge in front and Jeannie would feign a blush as she finished her exercises. Eventually, she would make her move. In the mean time, she would cock-tease him mercilessly. Jeannie stripped her gym clothes off and stood before her own bank of mirrors and surveyed her own body. Although she hadn't been using it this way for long, she knew that it was an attractive body and she knew that it felt good to use it in naughty ways. Naughty? Who knew what that word meant any more. She ran her hands over her sweaty breasts, stopping to twist her new nipple jewelry, turning her breasts this way and that to make the diamonds sparkle. Then, she ran her hands down her flat tummy and placed them on her still slightly boyish hips. True, more weight had been accumulating there, but not as much as she might like. It would be a while before she had nice, rounded hips like her mother. Her butt was good, though, she knew that. It was round and stuck out in a way that made men want to lick it and kiss it and bite it and fuck it. She smiled and turned to wiggle it in the mirror. Charlotte saw the clock, then and considered the buffet of delights that awaited her at the "spa." She turned to her armoire and opened one of the drawers. She reached in and withdrew a massager that had been her trusty friend many times. She stepped back to the mirrors and moved closer to the mirrors. Her hard nipples and soft breasts pressed against the cool of the mirror as she placed the vibrator against her clitoris. She stared into her own eyes, mashing the vibrator home and fingering her ass-crack with the other hand. She had her first orgasm of the day that way, looking at the person she loved and admired more than anyone else in the whole world. Waves of orgasm shuddered through her as she murmured: "I would do anything for you, darling..." She closed her eyes part way as her copious cum flowed down her sleek, tan, aerobicized, inner thighs. She dropped the vibrator to the floor and turned to the shower. Jeannie saw the clock, then, and smiled, biting her sexy lower lip. She would just have time. She ran to the nightstand and took out a butt-plug with a dangling remote control. Quickly, she lubed the rubber toy. Then, she squatted, facing the mirrors, placing the plug between her feet, with the tip of the plug grazing her pretty pink asshole. She looked at the mirror, her eyes closed to lust-filled slits, and moaned as she sat down, her cock becoming semi-hard as the plug popped past her anal ring and began filling her shitter. Pre-cum began oozing its way out of her dick as she slowly turned up the vibration. She bit her lip again, standing, arching her back and stretching up onto her tip-toes. She looked in the mirror and admired the magnificent creature that she had become since sacrificing most of her unwanted manhood. She smiled and murmured at her reflection: "Oh, I can't wait to," she gasped... her orgasm was building. "Go to the movies..." Jeannie laughed as she shot her load at her reflection in the mirror. It dribbled down in streaks. She reached out and scraped up a taste with her finger, then turned around, the remote from the plug wagging behind her as she left the rest of the mess for the help to clean. As she pranced into the shower, she thought, suddenly, of the boy she was meeting: his name was Everett. After her shower and quite some time primping, Charlotte gathered her things and inspected herself in the mirror. She wore a simple black dress that had cost thousands of dollars to exquisitely accentuate her not inconsiderable assets and minimize her few defects. Underneath, she wore hand-made black silk bustier with garters, French-cut panties, and black silk stockings. She slipped on her black leather coat, and went to the garage, where Lyman was waiting with the car. Lyman was the best chauffeur Charlotte had ever had. He was ready to drive her to the far ends of the earth at a moment's notice, always prepared for every eventuality, and more than willing to slip his long, hard cock into her pussy or ass or mouth... or wherever... when ordered to do so. Lyman looked at Charlotte carefully. Her over-sized sunglasses concealed some of her mood and her expressive mouth expressed nothing at the moment. Then the right side of her lips curled slightly, a lazy smile intended as a greeting for Lyman. "Good afternoon, Charlotte," Lyman said, holding the door as she slipped into the soft leather back seat with a rustle of silk. She rarely spoke to Lyman, whom she did like, unless it was to give commands: Drive me to...; Pick up my...; Lick my...; Fuck my... Lyman responded promptly to all commands. That was why he was so well paid. She adjusted herself in her seat and touched the intercom button once she heard Lyman in the drivers compartment. "Drive me to the spa, Lyman." Lyman knew where they were going, but he never started driving until he had received her command. After her shower, and quite some time primping, Jeannie gathered her things and took a moment to appraise her clothes before she went to the garage. She was wearing a little black mini-dress, almost more of a long tank top than a dress, with a red silk t-shirt underneath, stretched to its limits by her tits. Under that, she wore a tight red t-shirt, and striped red-and-black thigh-high tights, attached to a simple black garter belt. On her arms, she wore matching striped fingerless gauntlets, revealing her silver rings. She wore lacy panties that were designed to accommodate and confine her bulge in the front, with a strip of fabric cleaving her ass cheeks. Matching her red panties, she wore a silky bra that served to enhance rather than confine her big, firm tits. On her feet, she wore black ballet flats with an oversized red buckle on the tiny toe. They were by no means her sexiest shoes, but the boy she was meeting was not tall and she wanted to be able to look up at him with feigned innocence when it was time to close the deal and if she was two inches taller than him in her heels. Or taller. She went down to the garage and slipped into her shiny sports-coupe. She liked thinking of the coupe as her steel bikini. She pulled out of her parking space and headed to her rendezvous. She hadn't seen Everett in... well, since before she had begun her transformation. Everett was one of the few boys who had sat at her table in the cafeteria. He was as she had been: a skinny outsider. Unlike Jeannie, Everett was a few inches taller, very smart, and much nerdier. Jeannie had not seen him for over a year. On an impulse, she had visited his social networking sites and laid siege to him, complementing his taste in music and the design of his pages and using her secret knowledge from her old life to renew her friendship with the unsuspecting Everett. She licked her lips at the thought and pulled into traffic. Charlotte opened the door and strutted in, expecting, and receiving, every eye to follow her. She was met at the door by one of the attendants, a petite almond-skinned woman named Yvette. Without breaking stride, Charlotte handed her coat, sunglasses and purse to Yvette. Charlotte went to the her private, reserved salon, with Yvette following, eyes, lowered slightly, holding Charlotte's accessories as though they were holy things. Upon arriving in the room, Charlotte began disrobing, revealing her beautiful body. She seemed to notice Yvette for the first time. "Oh," Charlotte said, smiling her lazy half-smile. "Yvette. I hadn't noticed you. You're pleased to see me, I suppose." "Yes, Charlotte," said Yvette, blushing slightly. "I am, Charlotte." "I thought perhaps," began Charlotte, smiling her half-smile. "You would be ashamed to see me after last time. I have rarely seen someone... degrade themselves so very thoroughly." Yvette whimpered softly at the memory and bit her lower lip. Charlotte finished disrobing and stepped, nude, into the designer high-heeled sandals that were her spa shoes. "Shall we begin, Yvette?" "Yes, Charlotte. Please, Charlotte." Charlotte looked at Yvette, and Yvette looked down and away, licking the lips of her small, pouty mouth. Charlotte chuckled. "Lie down, Yvette," said Charlotte. Yvette lay down, trembling slightly. Charlotte stepped over Yvette's face and looked down. "I haven't had my cunt licked in hours." She squatted down on Yvette's face and reached between her legs to pull Yvette's eager mouth to her pussy. "Oh, Yvette... I forgot. I haven't had a piss in a while either. Connect." Yvette whimpered into Charlotte's vagina, sealing her lips around Charlotte's urethra as hot piss filled her mouth. Then she resumed sucking Charlotte's outsized clit. Jeannie opened the door and strutted in, expecting, and receiving, every eye to follow her. Everett had asked to meet in the food court adjacent to the theater. He little suspected that this was anything other than a slightly awkward internet first date. Jeannie, tall, slender, stacked, commanded attention. She parted the crowd with her haughty manner, moving directly for the startled boy. "Hi," Jennie said. "You must be Everett." She knew very well it was. Although he was very much a college student now, he looked much the same: skinny, awkward, pale, with longish hair, and ethereally smooth skin. She looked down, then peeked up at him from beneath her black bangs. "You look just like your cute pictures." This had exactly the effect Jeannie had calculated. Jeannie had learned her mother's lesson's well. Few men could have resisted such concentrated coquetry. Everett, smart, knowledgeable, on track for a great career in some tech field, had little experience with... girls. He blushed and Jeannie could tell he would stammer if she let him speak. "Let's go in," she said. Everett had picked the film (with her consent) but she did not care what the film was. She had actually made him suggest several times and films. After six broken plans, she had agreed to this one, not because she preferred it, but because she wanted to know for sure that Everett would still be compliant. He was. Ironically, it was a film that the earlier Jeannie, the one that Everett had known, the boy named Gene, would have loved -- a horror movie with science-fiction elements. Now, Jeannie saw things like that as nonsense, a waste of time that distracted her from her real amusements. They sat down in the stadium style seats. Jeannie raised the arm between their seats, and moved slightly closer to Everett. He was blushing as the lights dimmed and the previews rolled. Charlotte enjoyed every minute of the experience. She reclined on a spa treatment chair, with split legs. Two manicurists, two pedicurists, one scalp and body masseur. A female butler stood at hand, wearing a pornographic parody of a tuxedo, providing drinks and snacks to Charlotte's waiting mouth. And, of course, Yvette, who was still pleasuring Charlotte, her expert tongue licking her clitoris, her anus, her breasts, and belly. Yvette, like the rest of the technicians, had a small array of tools at her disposal: dildoes, butt-plugs, vibrating eggs, clips, lubricants, gloves (of varying textures and materials), clips, clamps, flails, scourges... When Charlotte's manicurist finished, she liked to have something to hold, something to use on Yvette. For the moment, Yvette crouched and lapped, sucked and sipped. Of course, Charlotte, busy woman that she is, could not be expected to get up during her complete treatment. Fortunately, the clever chair could be arranged to accommodate all of her desires and functions. "Yvette, connect," she commanded, and Yvette's soft lips sucked at Charlotte's clit and urethra. Then, smiling, she turned to one of the female butlers. "Jane, could I please have another glass of iced tea?" Between her legs, Yvette whimpered again. Jeannie enjoyed every minute of the experience. She didn't care about the content of the film, but Jeannie watched the film carefully. She needed to use it to continue her seduction. At every shock, every startling event, she flinched closer to Everett. By the end of the first act, Everett had his arm around her. By the time the monster was killing the slutty teenagers in the film, Jeannie clutched the inside of Everett's thigh. She could feel his penis hardening against the side of her palm. She brushed against it, smiling up at Everett in the dark before returning to her feigned interest in the film. When the film ended, Everett scarcely noticed. His tight jeans betrayed his arousal. "Well, what shall we do now," asked Jeannie brightly. "Uh, I don't know," stammered Everett. "Want to get something to eat?" "No," said Jeannie. "Oh," said Everett. "What, then?" "I thought I could take you home and we could talk. You know, like we do on the internet. But without the internet." She reached out and took his hand. "You rode the bus here, didn't you?" "Uh," said Everett. "Yeah. That sounds... great." Charlotte knew it was time to move on to the next phase. Charlotte's nails were dry now. She reached over to the box of carefully sorted toys and fingered one, then another of them. Yvette's eyes widened as Charlotte touched a whip... then moved to a paddle with small round studs on it. Yvette, in fear, licked more rapidly, hoping to deter Charlotte's anger. Charlotte smiled down at Yvette as the pedicurist indicated she was finished, too. She withdrew her patrician foot from the pad and put it on Yvette's shoulder, pushing her away. Yvette frantic with relief, began kissing and licking her foot. Being pushed away during the manicure phase was bad, but being pushed away now meant that she had chosen another target for her fun. While Yvette showed her crawly gratitude, Charlotte turned slightly in the chair and looked at the masseur, the only male in the room. "Come here," she said, turning back to her position of comfort. "Yvette, stop licking my foot and bring my strap-on." Yvette's eyes met Charlottes as she removed her tongue from between Charlotte's toes and she moved over to the toys. She began preparing the equipment. "What's your name, boy," asked Charlotte, undoing the masseur's belt buckle. "Never mind, I don't care. The rest of you can go... or stay, if you would like to help." The others in the room, all women, waited. They knew from past experience that Charlotte tipped very, very well, if one could demonstrate one's usefulness. The masseur was an athletic man of average height in his early twenties. He had the lightly tanned complexion of the part-time athlete. He had been told, by Yvette and the others, that Charlotte was insanely generous with tips, but his previous requests to join Charlotte's spa team were rebuffed. The other spa workers thought the masseur was skilled but presumptuous. They didn't like him. They were prepared to exclude him from their weekly windfall. Until Charlotte herself had seen him during her last visit. She had spoken with Mistress Anais, the owner of the spa and had her carefully question the masseur, insuring that he would be compliant and enough of a whore to accept whatever treatment he received if there was the prospect of a big tip. Mistress Anais was very careful to cultivate the mercenary impulses of her staff and even more careful to test the limits of their pride, humiliating them at every opportunity. If they continued to show up to work, they were gradually moved into the parlors that treated special patrons, like Charlotte. Yvette took a double-ended dildo and slipped it into the custom-made strap-on harness. She made sure that every part was lubed (enough, not too much) and returned to her kneeling position beside Charlotte's gorgeous, perfectly groomed pussy. She placed Charlotte's end of the dildo at the lips of her pussy, leaning in for a quick kiss before looking up, yearningly, at Charlotte's beautiful face. At a nod, she slipped one end into her pussy, still tight after years of Kegel exercises. She busied herself arranging the firm straps of the harness while the other girls prepared the masseur for his assfucking. The others took the masseur by his hands and guided him over to a make-up table in the corner of the room. They had him bend at the waist. One girl, Janelle, disappeared behind him, while the others cuffed his hands and forearms to the purpose-built table. Then, they fastened a waist restraint around him, arranging his body for perfect access. He smiled nervously at the girls, who ignored his looks. Janelle placed two cool hands on his buttocks and parted them gently. He gasped as Janelle breathed gently on his anus. She pulled back and slid a finger into his ass, then pulled the finger out, replacing it with her velvety tongue. He began shivering. Then he heard Charlotte stand, he flinched slightly, but she wasn't ready yet. She murmured a command and the girls giggled. A well-turned transsexual named Patricia, the spa's top make-up artist, moved to the masseur's side, and began swabbing his face with clensing pads. Then, she began applying liquid foundation to the masseur's face. "What the," the masseur began to say. He tried to wiggle away. SMACK! Charlotte had swung the leather paddle, with its small, round studs. The masseur whimpered and bit his lip, then tried to hold perfectly still. Patricia paused in her work during this incident and said, "Charlotte, please be careful when you hit him. I'm trying to do a neat job for you." She continued applying make-up to the masseur's face -- eye-liner, lip-gloss, blush. "Oh, Patricia," smiled Charlotte. "You know I would do anything for you." That was partially true. Charlotte did love Patricia, in her own way. Patricia had once been a boy servant here at the spa, named Patrick. She had broken him under her dildo and turned him into a shemale, just as she intended to break this boy. Yvette busied herself lubing Charlotte's intimidating phallus while Janelle continued to lick and finger the masseur's ass. Two of the other spa workers cuffed the masseur's ankles to the legs of the make-up table. He was so scared by this sequence of events that he jumped (as much as he could, so tightly confined) when Charlotte caressed one of his nipples. "Hmmm... I'm going to enjoy this," Charlotte breathed into his ear. Jeannie knew it was time to move on to the next phase. The movie had been fun, and Everett was a charming date, but she had long-term plans. In the car, she had allowed her dress to ride up a little, showing the top of her right stocking. She ignored his glances in that direction. She had driven the care with more aggression than she ordinarily would. In part, this was because she did enjoy pushing her steel bikini as hard as she could, every now and then, but also because she wanted to get Everett's heart racing. Once they got to his house, Everett hesitated. His family was well off. Everett lived alone in a townhouse in an affluent section of town. He did not hesitate for the reasons that bachelors typically stop before inviting their date in. Inside, it was clean and comfortable and there was food and drink in the refrigerator. No, Everett hesitated because he could not remember if he had changed the screen-saver on his computer, a screensaver that was a slide show of erotic pictures he had found on the internet. The pictures were of girls that looked a bit like Jeannie, in various stages of undress and debauchery. Girls and boys had sex, Lesbians intertwined, females dominated males, and almost every other permutation -- and all the females in the pictures had the same color hair, eyes, and skin as Jeannie. In his favorite picture, a sexy domme, shoved a big, flesh-colored dildo into the tight ass of a crying boy. He had beat off to that picture many, many times, dreaming that it was his internet chat buddy, Jeannie, pushing the latex phallus into his nearly virgin ass. Nearly virgin because he routinely pushed a finger, a brush-handle, or some other slender, dick-like object into his ass while he fantasized about Jeannie. He didn't know why he did that. He consciously excluded gay male sex from his slide show, even the really hot pictures of twinks and daddies fucking and sucking. He did not feel comfortable with anything gay (even the stuff that made him hard as Chinese algebra). But the improvised anal toys... it just felt good to have pressure there when he stroked his mid-sized dick. Maybe it had something to do with the time that he and his old friend, Gene, had stayed up late, talking about sex and... But he didn't want to think about that. He wondered if the screen saver was still on... And then noticed, with some dismay that Jeannie was getting out of the car. "J-Jeannie," he began. "Coming," asked Jeannie. He scampered out of the car, looking at her swaying ass as she walked up the stairs to the door of his townhouse. He shut the door and heard the car's electronic locks engage as she raised an elegant wrist. She didn't look back at him. He took the stairs two at a time, fumbling his keys out of his pocket and unlocking the door. He opened the door and looked, for what seemed like the hundredth time that day, at her profile as she swept past him. She was so beautiful. And... there was something... familiar. Inside, he escorted her to the living room, which had designer furniture and a professionally installed entertainment center, including an integrated computer. He often sat in his ergonomically designed recliner while chatting with Jeannie. His laptop sat cradled on a swinging arm, which allowed him to chat and browse the web without putting the laptop on his... lap. His monitor was the huge flat-screen television amid the entertainment center. He was incredibly relieved to see that the computer was not even on. Jeannie pranced across the room, dropping her coat gracefully into a small chair at the edge of the room. Then she cooed at the modern appurtenances and expensive audio-visual equipment. She had stuff like this in her own suite of rooms at home, more expensive, even, but she was working on Everett. She asked trivial questions about the different things in the room. Finally, she saw that he was nearly ready. At her request, he had just put the media system on a music-only channel. "Come sit by me, Everett." He sat on the couch next to her, suddenly conscious of the heat coming from Jeannie's body. Her large breasts and swollen nipples strained at the front of her little black dress. He felt fire where she touched his face, tousled his hair, and pulled him in for a kiss, her lips demurely parted. She sucked his tongue, hard, while she ran her left hand down his flat, almost concave chest, and stopped at his belt buckle. With her other hand, she took his, and guided it to her right breast. He gasped. The kissed like this for a few minutes. Then: "Everett," she purred into his ear. "Can I please have something to drink?" Everett stammered an apology for this lapse in his hospitality and then broke away from her to go to the kitchen. If there had been a mini-fridge in the room, Jeannie would have had to request something else. However, all seemed to be going to plan. When he returned, she sat, perched on the edge of the couch, her clothes strewn on the floor, except for her retro-looking red underwear and her striped stockings. She sat with her legs crossed and pretended to be looking at a large art book on Everett's coffee-table. If he dropped the glass, she would rush to help, allowing him plenty of time to examine her from every angle before she hustled him to his bedroom. If he brought her the drink, she would put it aside and resume kissing him and massaging his throbbing dick though the front of his pants. If he stood there, she would whisper his name. "Everett," she whispered. He crossed the room in a trance and she took the forgotten drink from his hand, placing it on the coffee-table and unbuckling his pants. He said something, mumbled really. She ignored him and was delighted to see that he was wearing bleached white tighty-whities. So cute! She leaned forward and sniffed. She could smell his clean, slightly musky dick smell. She leaned even farther forward and left a hot, lipstick kiss on his crotch, planted with precision on his pulsing balls. His knees nearly buckled and she placed her slender hands on his slender hips and guided him to the couch, stripping his underwear down to his knees as he went. Now his jeans were in a bunch around his calves and she took a moment to take his sneakers off his feet. She stripped him bare from the waist down and sat back to appraise him. In some ways, he was a slightly pale mirror of Jeannie's earlier self: Not as curvy, but that was to be expected. Everett hadn't been feminized. Jeannie remembered comparing Gene's body to Everett's, before, when they were both just skinny, nerdy high school boys. It was late one night, during what they told their parents was a gaming sleepover. They had gotten into a silly argument about the effects of a sex-changing magic item in the game, and had suddenly found themselves playing strip Truth-or-Dare. Eventually, they were naked. They had admired one another's skinny, pale bodies, and turned and exposed themselves in various ways. They had touched each other everywhere and the game had only ended when Gene had turned Everett around, bent him over, and gently parted Everett's butt cheeks. Jeannie still remembered the thrill she had felt (as Gene) when she sniffed Everett's shitter. Gene had leaned forward, eyes closed, and gently kissed Everett's perfect little rosebud... And Everett had flinched away, stammering something about not being gay. Jeannie would see about that. Everett's dick trembled in front of her full lips. She smelled his cock, and moved forward, licking her lips. With the last stroke of her tongue, she brushed the head of his cock. She stopped and planted another lipstick kiss, this time on his straining, plumb-colored erection. She laughed when he shivered, and then engulfed the head, swabbing the glans with her talented tongue. She looked up and made eye contact with her prey. Everett, looking down between his legs, locked eyes with Jeannie and pieces of the puzzle that had been nagging his memory fell into place. Those eyes... so familiar... the feelings from his cock clouded his brain, but he knew that he had seen them, looked into them, secretly lusted for them... "Gene," began Everett. "Mmmm," purred Jeannie, bobbing up and down on Everett's slender cock, staring Everett in the eye. At a word, her seduction would be complete or ruined. At a word, Everett could magically return them to the way they were. At a word, this delirious new conquest would end and Everett would slip away. "I love you, Jeannie," Everett said. Jeannie/Gene exalted in her cocksucking triumph. Charlotte was pleased with the way the day was ending. Yvette's lips were busily engaged in stimulating the masseurs previously ignored cock. Her expertise as an oral sex toy were unsurpassed, Charlotte knew. Charlotte had four fingers, held together in a cone shape, in his previously virgin asshole and was steadily loosening his anus and his resistance. The transsexual, Patricia, was whispering into the masseur's ear, pierced moments ago. Large, girly hoop earrings adorned his still bloody earlobes. His face was made up professionally. For the moment, you could still tell he was a boy under the makeup. "She's going to fuck your asspussy," Patricia whispered in a husky falsetto. "And you're going to love it. It will hurt at first. But admit it: you're kind of a whore for pain anyway, aren't you? I mean, we warned you. I took you into the locker room and showed you that I used to be like you, didn't I? I showed you my prick and the scars on my nipples? I showed you the pictures of me with... with my wife?" Patricia kissed the masseur's ear and licked the blood from the piercing. Charlotte placed the head of the rubber phallus at the masseur's asshole. "Oh, this is going to be good," Charlotte said, applying gentle pressure to her end of the dildo, beginning to force its way into the tight, pink sphincter. "Listen to me, before I get started, boy. I'm going to fuck you now. Well, rape you, really. Semantics. But I'm going to rip your asshole open so that you'll have trouble shitting for the rest of the day. "If you complain," she continued. "All these girls will call you a liar. I OWN this establishment. Your manager, Mistress Anais? She runs the place, but I own it. These girls LOVE their jobs and they won't let you ruin that because you got cold feet. Or a torn asshole." She chuckled. Patricia continued to stroke the masseur's hair, and absently fondled one of his nipples. "Remember that psychological assessment you took when you were hired? Mistress Anais knew you would love this. That you would like to be transformed. Isn't that what you want?" Patricia whispered, her collagen-enhanced lips brushing the masseur's blushing ears: "Say yes." "Yes," Charlotte continued. "I know what you want: Pretty frillies and lots of dick. You'll get lots from me. I don't have vaginal orgasms, my dear. Just clitoral. So, the stimulator on my end of the dildo will need to rub against my clitoris. It takes a lot of fucking to make me cum this way. I hope you understand the sacrifice I'm making." Patricia, Charlotte's old conquest, kissed the masseur's ear, and swirled her studded tongue inside. And suddenly, the masseur did understand what Charlotte was doing for him. As she pumped the veiny, realistic dick a full nine inches into the masseur's asspussy, Charlotte gasped. "Ooooh," she moaned and smiled from one corner of her mouth. "I think your new name will be... Fiona." Between Fiona's legs, Yvette caught the first drops of his cum. Jeannie was pleased, too, with the way her day was ending. After Everett had blown a huge load in her mouth, she had left him, exhausted, on the couch. After a moment of mumbled apologies, she had covered his naked pelvis with an expensive throw-rug, dressed, and left. She arrived home just in time to see her step-father, Ted, getting out of his car. She pranced up the driveway, taking him by the hand into his sumptuous, manly library, giving him a very un-daughterly kiss on the way. She sat him down on the leather couch and began frantically unbuckling his pants. Then, she stood back and took off her dress and kicked off her panties. "Did he go along?" Ted asked. She slipped onto the couch next to him and put her mouth on his cock. "Mmmhmm." "That's nice," he said, slipping his finger into Jeannie's asshole. "I can't wait until you and your mother make him into a girl... I can't wait to pump my hard cock into his boy-pussy. Let me know if you need any money." He stopped, gasping. He took his finger from her asshole, sniffed it, and reached down between her garter straps and began rewarding Jeannie for her hard work, stroking her sexy cock. "Did Everett... Evie?... See your pink clitty?" "Unh-unh" "I love your pink clitty. Make it spit for me, baby." As he coated her throat with his cum, she ruined his suit-pants with her thick spunk. Ted enjoyed the way his day ended, too.