Date: Mon, 15 Nov 2004 12:40:45 -0000
From: Chris Angel <moonknuckle@hotmail.com>
Subject: Zara

**********

(Ein)

**********

Isn't it strange how the simplest things can give you that weird sense
of nostalgia? I kinda get that when I look out my bedroom window. It
reminds me of my live with my folks. To see cars zipping by every three
seconds and even further across the road being the apartments that were
neighbouring my own. I say my own but this place isn't really mine at
all. Not really.

I always used to wonder why I'm even here. Why Matt even took a chance
on me, I thought I`d never know. What I didn't know was that I was
going to find this out soon. Sooner than I would have ever believed.

My name is Zack Moore.

Not a popular name by any length, but `Zack' in truth isn't my birth
name. My given birth name was David. But after realizing how boring the
name was, I had convinced everyone to regard me by my nickname, which was
Zack. It took me a while to realize that my name wasn't the problem, but
hey, by then, people had become accustomed to calling me Zack. So it just
sort of set in.

I scrambled away from my window and looked over at the coffee table by my
bed. Suddenly I felt like getting something to eat. I hadn't eaten since
one thirty and by now it was almost six, so it was perhaps a good idea to
grab a bite. And even though I'm hungry I suddenly remember that Matt
will be back at any moment. From that I'm jarring myself into staying
put. It was a quirky little fear but I always worried that he would run
away or something. But I guess it was from my own insecurity. And I
suppose I still felt shocked by the way Matt had accepted me. Lucky
breaks are like lightning. They don't hit twice.

Matt Stillman, 19 years of age, three years older than me, had helped me
out of a really tight spot by allowing me to stay here. It all came back
to my years at home with my real family. I lived quite a ways from this
town, at least 80 miles, or so I'm told. I used to live with my mother
and father, both unsuited to be parents or even regard themselves as
such. Mom was a drunkard, her only friend was the bottle and her rancid
breath was proof of their love for each other. Where Mom was just a
waster, Dad was an unashamed bastard who thought with his fists rather
than his brain. He regularly cheated on my Mom, but she was so consumed
with her age old boyfriend, Las Vodka, that most of his cheating ways
escaped her notice. Eventually I got tired of living with them after one
of my father's custom battering sessions, and I decided to hit the road
with as little as I could spare. Which wasn't much. In the end all I
left with was 50 bucks in my wallet, the clothes on my back, and a heart
full of hopes for a better future.

Of course running away always seems like a good idea at the time.

It was a foolish mistake to make, and I saw that, but I couldn't live in
that house with those people any longer. The first three days after
leaving home were the toughest. Thankfully I had enough cash to keep
myself sparingly fed, but didn't have nearly enough to put a roof over
my head. I was forced to sleep rough, one of the scarier and more
alarming moments of my life. It was summer by this time so it wasn't
very cold, but it still was an experience I long to forget. Park benches
were the best thing I found to sleep on, but parks weren't the safest
place for a sixteen year old boy to sleep, in more ways than one.

I don't believe in god but someone had to be watching out for me those
two nights. Because somehow I came out in one piece and with my virginity
in tact. By my third day I was down to $38 and was growing restless with
bench sleeping. I didn't have much of a choice though, which was the
real heavy hitter in all that. But a shining ray of hope came to me in
the form of Matt. I was getting breakfast at a diner nearby the park that
I had been sleeping at, and we ran into each other. I had just gone there
to grab a coffee and think about my next move, but suddenly I met with
some stranger and we got to talking. In the end, we talked for about
three hours and had a real laugh. I learned a lot about him too. Matt was
a post graduate student, studying mechanics at a local community college.
He lived on his own in an apartment that was paid for by his Saturday job
at his father's garage. Matt had told me that he wanted to `follow in
father's footsteps' by becoming a mechanic, but I could see beyond
that. I knew that he wanted a lot more from his life. It turned out that
we had a lot in common too. In the things we liked, the food we liked, it
even seemed like we had the same taste in women. And through talking to
him I finally felt like I was forgetting my troubles. At least till he
asked me,

`Where do you live?'

I froze. How could I tell Matt the truth? That my current residence was a
park bench? I don't know what came over me, but I informed him of my
whole story. My abusive parents and my running away from home. I thought
that the moment he discovered this truth that he would want nothing to do
with me, but he did the opposite. He offered me a room at his place. It
was a great gesture and I thought that he meant it as a temporary offer
but he let me stay at his apartment indefinitely. And so, three months
later, this was were I was, living with Matt. I had to admit that it was
the happiest I had been for so long. Suddenly I was snatched from my
darkest hours and thrown into my brightest ones. All the rules I had been
following with my mother and father were a thing of the past. I could
come and go as I pleased, I could eat whatever I liked, do whatever I
chose. I had all the freedoms that I believed I could gain by escaping my
old home. There were some drawbacks. Although I didn't have to go to
school or anything, I did have to chip in with the rent, so I started
working a full-time job at a fast food place downtown. Matt was a nice
enough guy too, but he did play a lot of loud music, which I didn't need
at three in the morning (when you start working full-time you find
yourself less tolerant with loudness). The only other negative aspect was
Matt's friends. Most of them I really liked and became friends with
myself, but there was a `circle' of Matt's best buddies that I had
never taken a shine to.

Outside of those few issues, it was all good. And I had been thinking as
much up until yesterday evening. It started out like any other weekend.
Matt and I went up to a party at that one of our friends were holding. It
was a much bigger party than I had thought, and as soon as I got to the
house Matt and I were absorbed into the madness. I'm not a drinker but I
did down a few drinks while I was there. It went on for hours and hours,
and just as I thought about leaving, a girl pulled up to me and cast me
'those' eyes. You didn't have to be Einstein to see that she was
interested in me. In fact, for the fifty minutes that we spent talking,
she did nothing but flirt. I liked her, and she was what most men would
find attractive, but I cave in. I had never been too confident with
girls. I really didn't know why, but women were never my strong point. I
wasn't exactly a buff stallion either. My looks were far more pretty-boy
in nature, most of Matt's jock friends regarded my appearance as fruity
(though they never meant this as an insult). But the girl was relentless,
and she dragged me out into the dance floor that had been made out of the
living room. I enjoyed dancing with her, but the moment I got into it, I
felt a strong hand grab me by the arm and yank me out of the crowd. I
couldn't see who it was until we got into the hallway. In the end it
turned out to be Matt.

And for some reason he was pissed with me.

Matt wasn't always a violent person, but he knew how to handle himself.
And I had never seen him express anger at any of his friends, let alone
me. But whatever I had done he wasn't happy about it, because he
declared instantly that we were leaving. The ride home was equally
awkward. Matt didn't utter a word to me, he just continued to seethe and
stew over my unknown error. I began to wonder if the girl I danced with
was his ex girlfriend or something. It explained why he was so angry with
me. But when I asked him this, he told me no, in short tones. Leaving me
confused as ever. When we got home things were just the same, and by now,
things hadn't gotten better. Matt was still icing me, and I hoped that I
wasn't losing my best friend. If I did, I'd lose my home as well.

I looked out the window again to see if his car was pulling up. It
wasn't, but thirty minutes later his car came around the block and
parked up nearby. I watched him come out of his car, a large paper back
came with him, and he walked over to our apartment building. I was
dismayed to see Jason with him.

Jason was one of the three buddies of Matt's that I didn't like. He was
a jerk and a complete womanizer. He stood at about 6 ft 1 with shady
black hair falling in bangs over his sneaky grey eyes. I made it a habit
to avoid Jason as much as I possibly could, but being that he was one of
Matt's best friends it didn't work out as I would have hoped. The two
made there way inside and I suddenly felt strange as a knock came at my
bedroom door. I actually felt nervous. When I didn't answer the first
knock, the door blew open with a jerk from Jason's grip. He had a
devious smile on his face while Matt's was neutral. It looked like he
was struggling with something, but I couldn't place just what was
bothering him. And I was more concerned with the cocky smiles that Jason
was giving me.

I moved away from the window and spoke. "Something wrong, guys?"

"Something like that," Jason quipped. "But then I guess you would
know, since your ass has been sniffing around Stacy a lot lately."

I blinked. "Stacy?"

"The girl you were dancing with last night, Zack." Matt said stoically.

I knew that was the root of all this. "Why is that important?"

Jason glared at me. "It's important when you start making eyes at my
woman, kid."

I felt my stomach turn. I had no idea that the girl flirting with me was
involved with Jason. I didn't even know her name. If I knew, I would
have stayed well clear of her. Not because it was the right thing to do,
but because Jason was part animal. Despite his unusually sophisticated
looks, Jason was a bruiser, I had seen it myself. The amount of flesh
that he had chosen to rend by those knuckles was a frightening number.
And I immediately began to worry that I was actually next in line.

"I didn't know she was yours." I said in my defence. "She was the one
flirting with me. All I even did was dance with her."

Jason didn't seem to be swallowing this. I wasn't lying, in fact I
wasn't even interested in Stacy that much. But it didn't seem like he
was listening to me. I rolled my eyes over to Matt and I saw that he had
a frustrated frown on his face. Jason definitely intended to do something
to me, I could see it in Matt's expression. And it was probably of the
reason he was so annoyed with me after the party.

I was now ready to do anything to keep from being battered into a bloody
pulp. "I'm sorry."

Jason smiled at me, another of the condescending smiles that made my
flesh crawl. He obviously took pleasure in the fact that I was afraid of
him. My voice had actually risen in pitch from my fright. Jason moved
over to me slowly, then reached out and grabbed me by the chin with one
of his large, elegant hands. His grip enfolded my jaw like iron, but what
scared me most was that nasty little glare of intent in his eyes.

"Little pussy." He barked quietly. "Begging for me not to beat the
living hell out of you. I could snap you in two."

And he could. He really could. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Take it lightly, pussy." Jason uttered. "I'm not gonna kick your
ass. At least not if you don't screw me around now. So just calm down
and do what we say."

It's easy to understand that that did not reassure me one little bit.
But I was too scared at that point to even scowl at Jason. My fear for my
personal safety was on my main agenda. And from that look of dejection on
Matt's face, I knew I wasn't going to be getting any help from him,
either. With a slow nod, Jason's hand still over my mouth, I submitted
myself to his mercy. Jason smiled with his new claim over me, then shoved
me hard across the room.

"Ahh!"

I stumbled back and eventually fell over the bed, my limbs sprawled out
over the spreading. Jason instantly mounted me, placing his hand over my
mouth and pinning me with his weight. I gasped under his fingers. What
was he planning to do with me? I tried to thrash my legs about to somehow
move him off me but it was no use. No matter how I struggled, I couldn't
get Jason off me. He was far too strong for my feeble body. When Jason
seemed to realize that he had me immobile, he looked over to Matt.

"Come on, man!" He yelled. "Gimme a sock or something!"

Matt dropped the bag he was holding and walked over to the chest of
drawers near the door. He went into one of the top drawers and pulled out
a sock, a white one with a blue stripe. I would have been more
embarrassed about him going through my socks and underwear if I wasn't
pinned down beneath Jason. Matt handed Jason the sock, and my captor went
to work. He freed my mouth, and I gasped with relief, a gasp which melted
into a moan when Jason shoved the sock past my lips. It completely
blocked up my mouth and I could hardly breathe, so I was forced to do so
through my nose. I was also aware that I couldn't scream for help
either.

Now that his hand was free, Jason grabbed both of my thin wrists with his
large hands, completely making me unable to get myself free. I was
expecting a kicking even if Jason said he wouldn't hurt me, but now it
looked like they wanted to torture me. My mind started to judder with the
thoughts of what they might do. Like slit my arm with a knife and pour
salt on it. All those horror films I'd seen suddenly seemed less funny.

Jason smiled at me again. "So, pussy. You like playing around with other
guy's women? Well consider yourself lucky. You're gonna be what we
like."

My eyebrows rose when I heard that. I was confused. So confused that I
stopped kicking my legs on the bed. I didn't have a clue as to what he
had meant. That was until I took a look at the bag that Matt was
previously holding. Inside it were the items and gear you would expect to
find in the bag of a theme prostitute. I felt sick. My mind had caught on
to what they planned to do. And now I realized what Jason had said did
make sense after all. I started bucking harder against Jason, kicking my
legs and swinging my head from side to side, but it was no use. Jason was
so much stronger than I was. I could remember someone telling me,
probably Matt, that Jason used to play as quarterback in his high school
football team. Probably where all that strength came from. And now that
strength was working towards my agony and humiliation.

Matt grabbed the bag that he had brought in with him, and move it closer
to me and Jason on the bed. I tried to look away as his hand reached
inside it, but I found myself frightfully curious as to what would come
next. He pulled out a small jar of lavender nail polish. I was
incredulous. All my fears and worries had been confirmed. They wanted to
turn me into a girl! It was impossible! In my head it sounded like some
ridiculous plotline for a cheap humour story, but from that devilish
smile on Jason's toned visage, this was very much a reality for me. I
looked up into Jason's eyes, as fragile as I could possibly seem, hoping
he would take pity on me and end this. It was in vain, because I could
see that Jason had no intention of letting me go. There wasn't a way to
get out of this.

For a third time I tried to struggle free from his iron grasp, to maybe
wriggle out of his hold and run for my life, but again I found myself
trapped and isolated. This time Jason leaned down and whispered into my
ear.

My blood ran cold as he spoke. "Remember. If you keep on struggling,
I'll rip off both of your kneecaps."

I fell silent after a whimper of disapproval. No matter what, I was too
afraid of being hurt to argue with him. It might have sounded cowardly,
but I was such a feeble person in strength that I had no choice. All I
could do was go along with his plans and hope that would keep him from
bringing harm to me. I nodded my head once again as complete assurance.
He and I both knew that this time, my claim to stay still was for real.
Matt placed the jar of lavender nail polish at the bed, then walked over
to the door. I was suddenly aware that he was about to leave, and I
mumbled behind the sock for him to stay. Either he didn't hear me or he
didn't want to hear me, because he left without even looking back. As
the door clicked shut I realized that I was on my own with this maniac.

By now Jason seemed to feel secure enough with my submission to release
my wrists. He did it slowly at first, but I didn't move an inch. I was
too afraid of him to resist what he wanted anymore. He finally pulled
himself off me then tugged off the socks I was currently wearing. I
didn't wear shoes in my own place, so it was an easy thing for him to
do. Next he moved up to the zipper of my denim jeans. He slowly unzipped
then, and I felt my face flush with embarrassment. No one, no girl, no
man, no one, had ever gotten inside my crotch. No one had ever seen me
naked, not since my childhood as a toddler. I couldn't believe that the
first person who would ever see me naked since then would be this
bastard. With one good yank, Jason pulled down my jeans. They slipped
free from my thin smooth legs and off my feet, coming to rest next to my
two discarded socks. Now that my pants were gone all that was left to
conceal my lower body was my underwear, which I was ashamed to say had
little teddy bears on them. I was still sixteen after all.

I heard Jason chuckle at me as he saw my underwear. I realized that I
would probably never forget this moment for the rest of my life. I had
never been so embarrassed in all my young years.

"Ain't that cute." After chuckling at me briefly, he slipped his
fingers around my thin waist. I felt weird about how long his hands
lingered there, but seconds later they came down and stripped my of my
underwear. My small penis bounced up and down with freedom as the
underwear slipped off my ankles and feet. And my small ding humoured him
even further.

"Heh, heh, heh." He chortled. "Even cuter."

I hoped that he didn't notice my blush. Even if he had to laugh at my
genitals, I didn't want him to take pleasure in the fact that he was
humiliating me. Jason then pulled off the tee shirt that I had been
wearing, an anime motif, that was loose and free around my chest. It came
off my head, shoulders and arms very quickly, and I was left as a naked
mass upon my own bed. Jason threw the shirt onto the pile of the rest of
my gear, and he looked down at me. I shut my eyes as hard as I possibly
can. I didn't even want to look at him. I didn't want to see him
looking at me. For a few moments didn't hear or see anything, then I
noticed the brief unscrewing of something. My curiosity opened my eyes
for me, and I looked over at the foot of my bed to see Jason, with the
jar of nail polish.

I gulped. I still couldn't speak, and it was getting monotonous to keep
breathing from my nose, but I had no choice in the matter. I only lied
back and watched as Jason took the little brushing wand and began
applying it to my toenails. I struggled to keep tears from dampening my
eyes. Strangely I found this more disturbing than Jason smirking at my
nakedness. I tried over and over to deny this in my mind, to block it all
out and say, `hey, this isn't happening to you, it's just a dream'.
But as I felt the cold and smooth wetness of the polish moving over the
first toe of my right foot, I knew what the truth was. I didn't move a
muscle to stop him. And eventually he finished painting the first foot. I
looked down as he moved over to the other one. I wiggled my toes a bit
and looked at them. My masculinity had been bruised greatly by this, but
I strangely found myself `occupied' with my painted toenails. It was
odd, but Jason had also done a decent job. I expected a clumsy situation,
but he did this so swiftly. It was almost like he had done this before. I
shook off my literal trance as I felt Jason finish off the second foot.

"Perfect." He said, observing my long toes. "Now for the hands,
pussy."

I leaned upwards, and presented my hands evenly for him. It shocked us
both to see how submissive I was becoming. Even after the threat of
violence, I think Jason expected me to still make some form of resistance
against him. But the fear of my impending femininity was far weaker than
my fear of physical abuse. Jason clasped my fingers lightly, and set
about working each of them into a lavender colour. The process took a
little longer than it did with my toes, but one my one, the lacklustre
colour that previously garnished my nails fell to the smooth brightness
of lavender. Though this all horrified me, I had to admit that the colour
of pale purple suited me. Jason pulled back and admired his work once
more, and I guessed that he would be doing something else to me now.

"Those need to dry." Jason pointed at my fingers and toes. "I'm gonna
get some stuff ready. If I come back and see even one smudge I'll take
all of it off and start again. You hear me?"

I nodded. Jason left the room slowly, keeping one eye trained on me. I
didn't have much time to enjoy my much loved privacy, because a short
while later he came back with a similarly amused smile on his face. By
now my nails had dried enough, much to Jason's pleasure. It was about
this time that I started thinking that maybe he got off on this. Forcing
me into this situation. And I scared myself when I realized that this
wasn't bothering me. At least not as much as it would have thirty
minutes ago.

"Stand up." Jason commanded.

I did as I was told, standing up and moving away from the bed that I had
been lying on. It may have sounded peculiar but I felt more aware of my
own nakedness as I moved about. And as I inched towards Jason on my bare
feet, I felt like the proverbial lamb being led to the proverbial
slaughter. Jason went into the bag again, and withdrew a pair of lilac
panties and a lilac bra. I blinked at them. He didn't honestly expect me
to wear those, did he?

His eyes showed that he was deathly serious. "Lift up one of your
legs."

I obeyed, raising my right leg. He slipped the panties up over my feet
and leg, and I filled in the blanks by stepping into the other leg hole.
I felt so silly as Jason helped me slip the panties up over my smooth
thighs. But I felt even sillier when I started to admire the soft
clinging tightness of them. I didn't want to think that way, but the
panties did feel nice around my crotch.

"Lift up your arms." Jason stepped closer to me and pulled the bra
straps outward. I rose my arms into the air and let him pull those straps
around my chest. I felt him fumble to hook them together around my back,
but eventually he did it to his own satisfaction. The bra was far more
uncomfortable than the panties. The panties seemed to fit around my
crotch, but the bra felt really out of place. When I looked down, I
noticed that this bra was padded. In fact, it looked specially designed
for flat-chested girls because there was very little room provided for
large breasts. Suddenly I caught on to the fact that this whole situation
had been planned. When I thought about it, it was obvious that Jason had
planned to do this to me even before he found out that I had danced with
Stacy. But I didn't really see it like that. I guess I just convinced
myself that this was a spur of the moment thing. But if Jason had to go
to this much effort, I doubted that he would do it just to pay me back.
There had to be something more he wanted, and I knew, quite accurately in
fact, that it wasn't going to please anyone but him.

After taking a few moments to get used to the feel of the material around
my chest, I waited for what Jason wanted next. He grabbed my by the arms,
and slowly guided me back down to the bed. I took note of the fact that
he was being a lot more gentle with me, though at the time I didn't
understand why we would do this. I sat back down on my panty-covered
buns, while Jason kneeled just enough to face me at eye-level. His hand
took something else out of the bag, an eyebrow pencil. I didn't quite
understand his need for it, but I kept still, and tried hard to avoid
squirming. Jason focused his eyes on his task and slowly drew over my
thin brows in an arc motion. I already had very thin eyebrows, one of the
reasons people said that I looked so fruity. I used to resent this aspect
of myself, but right now I was thankful for it. Already feminine eyebrows
meant that I wouldn't have to suffer the stinging pain of having them
plucked. Jason used great precision to carry this out, each stroke was
firm but smooth. Again this made me think that Jason had done this
before. Soon he had done what he wanted, and although I couldn't see
myself, I knew I was looking more and more feminine by the second.

I expected Jason to go into his bag again, but instead he took something
from his pocket, a lavender lipstick set to match the nail polish. I
didn't know how to apply that so I was glad that Jason did it for me. I
kept still as he ran the short staff over my pouting pinkish lips. In no
time at all my lips were covered in the painted cream of lilac, and I
struggled to picture what it might look like on me.

While I pre-occupied myself with this idea, Jason went inside that bag of
his and withdrew even more articles that I hadn't seen. One was the
small (which also meant tight) pure white blouse. He also took out a
denim mini-skirt of light blue, and a pair of tall black high heels. I
trembled when it came to mind that I would love that set up on anyone
else. Anyone else but me. I didn't even wait for Jason to order me to
get dressed in them. I knew better than to argue at this point. I had
already gone so far that stressing a plea would never do me any good. I
first took the blouse, and pulled the light white clothing over my head.
I slipped each of my arms through each respective armhole, then pulled
down the blouse as far as it could possibly go. It didn't reach so far
as two inches above my midriff. But I found that I almost liked the feel
of a woman's clothing against my skin. It was virtually the same as any
top that a guy would wear, but the fact that it was meant for a woman was
somehow different. Yet not different in a bad way. I took the mini skirt,
and brought my long legs as close together as I possibly could. My bare
feet darted through the leg holes, and I pulled the waist up my legs to
my waist and bottom. Once it had reached in place, I wiggled my butt
cheeks and my thighs to get used to it. To wearing a skirt. It felt odd
at first, but again I experienced this strange tingling. I felt somehow,
more comfortable in these clothes than I did in my normal ones. But it
just wasn't possible. I didn't really like wearing a girl's clothes,
did I?

Last but not least were the black heels. They actually looked quite
expensive, they possessed sheen and the heels were at least 3 or so
inches. They were also open-toed, which meant they would reveal my
painted toenails. But then I doubted that Jason would make me go out in
public like this, so I recalled thinking how much I loved watching
actresses wearing shoes like these. I took them both from Jason and began
putting them on. Without even being asked. I undid the dainty little
buckle at the side and then slipped my foot inside the first shoe, the
straps binding it. I redid the buckle, and repeated the same process with
the other shoe. Once I had finished the task, I suddenly contemplated the
struggle that some women must have had with these. They bent my feet
upwards from the second joints of the toes and were surprisingly awkward.
I never would have guessed this, because I always thought that open-toed
high heels looked so sexy.

It was pretty easy to stand in them, but harder to walk in them, and I
tried to get used to this newfound query. Jason watched quietly as I
tried to walk in heels, back and forth in slow, short strides. I soon got
the hang of it, but there was still a little oddness in my walk. Ten
minutes later, Jason had gone into the bag again. He pulled out
jewellery, two rings, a pair of bangle earrings and silver necklace. It
was at this time that I remembered that I had both of my ears pierced. It
was two years ago that ear studs were the new `cool thing' in my area,
back when I was living with my Mom and Dad. I decided to follow the flock
and get one too, but unfortunately I got the wrong ear done. In the end I
got the second one done, before I was made subject to more teasing, but
with both ears pierced I really felt like a fool. I was surprised that
Jason even noticed that I had both ears pierced.

"Put these on." He said slowly.

For second I noticed his lack of malice towards me. I ignored it for now,
and took all of the pieces of jewellery from his hand. This was probably
the easiest part of my femme-transformation, as both the rings and the
necklace came on easily. The large hoop earrings were a little more
troublesome, but the piercing of my ears hadn't closed up yet, on either
side. They hung loosely from my ears, and to my horror, I actually liked
the way they felt in combination with my necklace and the rest of my
clothes.

I was sort of scaring myself. Was I actually starting to like being
dressed as a girl? Was I really liking this? I tried to ask myself this,
but for another time Jason went inside that bag of feminine goodies and
withdrew something else. A wig.

The hair was a long red, a very alluring strawberry blonde. I was already
a redhead, but my hair just about touched the edges of my ears. Jason
fixed this on my head himself, and I made a note of the slow care he took
while doing so. Just as he wanted, the long mop of satin-like shimming
and straight hair came to rest over my natural hair and splashed over my
shoulders. And with that final touch, I realized that I must have
undergone a complete change of appearance. I was too afraid to look in my
mirror before, but I looked over at it on my chest of drawers and gasped.

I didn't see myself anymore. All I saw was the reflection of this
beautiful girl. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. Was that really
me? Was that gorgeous girl I was looking at, really me? I didn't have
the power to even understand what was happening to me. And what confused
me even more were those looks I was receiving from the man who had
created that beautiful girl. I could see Jason's reflection inch up to
my own, and I felt my breath quicken as his voice rang in my ears.

"Do you see how sexy you look?" He said smoothly. "I knew you would.
Ever since that day I first saw you."

I juddered again. Had Jason been looking at me like that? Even when I was
a boy? I felt my heart do jumps. I was even thinking of myself as a girl.
Could this really be happening?

Had I now become a woman?

"What name would you like, babes?"

I was virtually dumbstruck. No matter how had I tried to get my head
around it, could not understand how that beautiful girl could possibly be
me. Jason was right. I did look convincing. More convincing than I would
have ever thought possible. I was too entranced by my own beauty to
notice Jason's hands slowly run themselves around my body. Up and down,
over my `breasts' and around my waist. I couldn't see the attraction
in his eyes. If I had, I probably would have realized why he was starting
to be gentle with me. It was like he had changed me into my true, real
form, and therefore I now belonged to him.

"Okay then. I'll pick your name. Zara. How's that sound?"

Even my voice was feminine in this form. "I like it, Jason."

I didn't quite understand it, but I suddenly felt different about
things. It was the kind of change you see some person make on TV and
think `that was ridiculously fast'. I couldn't explain it away any
better now, but my whole perspective started to alter. I didn't see
myself as a boy dressed up as a girl, or a person forced into being a
girl. As I looked into that mirror, I felt like something had been pulled
out of me, like a spirit or something. And that spirit had now possessed
my body with an entirely new view about femininity and what that term in
itself meant to me. I was Zara.

Before I even knew what was happening, my thin shoulders were yanked
around slowly by Jason. I finally snapped out of my trance-like reverie
and I looked up at the taller man questioning. The response I got was a
confident smile along with confident eyes. But not only did those eyes
hold confidence, they held lust. Suddenly I started remembering what men
thought of pretty girls like me. But I had never ... Thought of men like
that or in that fashion ever before. That wasn't going to change because
of my newfound gender. But it seemed that Jason had other ideas. I was
just about to say something that might quell his desire that was so
clearly burning in him, but all that escaped my lips was a quiet yelp. I
was pulled closer to him with powerful arms, his hands reaching around to
my shoulder blades and the small of my back. Both of my palms pressed
against his chest, my head of red hair just coming to rest under his
chin. Nobody had ever held me in this way. I suppose that was the only
reason I didn't push him away. For the first time in my life I felt
protected. It was a ridiculous notion, considering that Jason had
threatened to kick the crap out of me, but I knew that was what I felt.

I simply shut my eyes and concentrated on my newborn femininity. While I
did that, I felt Jason's hands both slide down the cheeks of my ass and
grab them respectively. I heard a moan from myself upon the feeling. The
feeling of two large hands swallowing my cheeks with their vastness, it
was strangely alluring. I couldn't understand the changes that were
taking place inside me though. An hour or so ago, I would have been
revolted at the idea of a man groping me up, especially a man who had
threatened violence on me. But he I was allow Jason to cop a feel from
me. I doubted I would ever understand what happened to me when I looked
in that mirror, but it had changed me forever. And these changes were
reflected in my reaction to Jason's advances. Rather than being
repelled, I was allowing it. And I was shocked to find that on some
level, I was enjoying it. Jason's hands continued to squeeze at my soft
ass, while I nuzzled my head on his neck and chest. For the first time
since this transformation started I felt relaxed. If this was all he
wanted, I really didn't see the harm in it. But, of course, that was not
all he wanted.

"Zara," He said slowly. "I don't think you realize how beautiful you
are. It was tricky to bring you around at first, but I love the results.
I can tell you do too. Just remember that it took me to bring it outta
you. That means you owe me."

"Huh?"

"You're gonna need to make this up to me." The grip he had on my
behind grew tighter. "For the next week, you're gonna do everything I
want, Zara. And just remember what I can do to you if you screw around
with me."

My answer surprised us both. "...Okay."

I could tell that Jason was astounded by my acceptance of his request.
But when he said 'everything I want' I guessed that he meant someone to
clean up after him or something. Which didn't sound too bad, especially
since it was only for a week. Then I would never have to think about
slaving away for him. Jason moved away from me and my palms, then walked
over to the bed. He sat down facing me, with another of those sneaky
grins on his face.

"Okay then, Zara." He stressed my name. "Blow me."

My eyes widened. It may sound stupid but I did not expect him to say
that. In fact, that was one of the furthest ideas from my mind. Now I
knew what `everything I want' was supposed to mean. But why? Jason was
what many girls would define as a `stud muffin'. He could have his pick
of any of the women around here. Why was he looking in my direction?
Besides, he knew what I really was, so why...?

I could barely speak. "I-I can't do that..."

"And why not?"

"Because I... I'm not..."

"Remember Zara," Jason began. "You owe me for this. And if that isn't
a big enough incentive then think of what I could do to you if you don't
do what I want."

I realized that he was right. He couldn't blackmail me with what I was
dressed in, I could just deny that any of this happened to anyone. But
that did not change the fact that this guy could crush me like a grape at
his whim. I couldn't leave... because I was dressed like this. And I
couldn't fight back, because, let's face it. I have a brain. Jason
would royally waste me with lefts and rights in a straight-up fight. I
was in a bind. All I had to do was blow him, right? I could just block it
all out of my mind and forget about when it was over, right? I didn't
have any choice in the matter. After a few moments of personal debate,
Jason was becoming impatient. I could see that much. And I couldn't get
on his bad side. I was in a very vulnerable position as I was. Just one
little action and I could just put this all behind me...

I saw Jason smile as I walked between his legs and lowered myself onto
two knees. He knew as well as I did that he had me where he wanted me. I
took to the zipper that confined his man-meat to his jeans. And when I
slowly pulled it down; the weight of what I was about to do started to
occur to me. I folded the front of boxers he was wearing as low as I
possibly could from that position. And then it was revealed to me. A full
and thick eight-inches worth of impaling flesh. Stiffening towards its
limits. Strangely enough, it didn't disgust me. Not by itself nor under
the circumstances.

Jason spoke again, though this time his voice was huskier. "...Blow
me..."

And so I did.

Though I accepted it as one action, it was the beginning of a chain of
events that would see my life altered beyond anything I could have
possibly comprehended. But was the beginning of my life as a woman. And
the beginning of a lust I would be maintaining for the man sitting above
me...

**********