Date: Thu, 14 Aug 2008 10:23:51 -0700 (PDT)
From: Fred Gingerman <gingerfred2005@yahoo.com>
Subject: Finished -- transgender

Finished
by Gingerfred Man


Chapter One -- Curiosity

It was curiosity that brought me to Gingerfredonia. Not need. But need kept
me there.

I certainly didn't need money. I was a world-famous novelist with eight
bestsellers in ten years, all of which had been made or would be made into
box-office-smash movies. Even you've heard of Nick Watson, right?

I laughed out loud when I saw the letter from Fred Gingerman, my former,
"author colleague," offering me a teaching position at some "finishing
school" in that Mediterranean island country he had bought a few years
earlier. Gingerman was the absolute ruler of that place and had ludicrously
styled himself as King Fred.

[See "Pantied" for more about King Fred and Gingerfredonia.]

Gingerman was, I thought, a hack writer who wrote in a very narrow genre --
transgendered fiction. Even more narrowly, it was all stuff about males who
became feminine and had sex with males. And it was all XXX-rated stuff.
Boys dressing as girls and having other boys or men fuck their bottoms.
Some of the stories were about men who were dissatisfied with their lives
and found happiness being women. And taking big cocks into their asses and
mouths. The stories were drenched with cum, but sometimes clever and even
occasionally funny.

Gingerman did have a following. Enough of one that he earned billions of
dollars and bought an effing country. A place where he could do ANYTHING he
wanted.

The guy was obviously gay. I mean, who writes crap like he did and isn't?
And there were lots of other rumors about him too. And jokes. "Why did King
Fred go to the department store? Because he saw their ad that said boy's
pants were half off."

Still, he wasn't the only gay character in the entertainment business, nor
was he the only one to have other appetites. But as an absolute ruler, he
was the only one who could actually fulfill those desires legally.

Gingerman was wildly popular in his country, the former Vinoblanco, because
of the incredible prosperity he had brought the people through some
sweetheart deals with the EU. There were rumors again about improper
"incentives" he may have offered European decision-makers to get those
deals, but the Gingerfredonians didn't care. They loved their king. Even
if, as it was rumored, some of Gingerfredonia's prettiest young boys were
being feminized to be "used" by the king and offered to foreign
dignitaries.

I doubted such things were happening, because not one complaint was ever
made by a Gingerfredonian or a parent of such a boy. Gingerfredonians
traveled freely throughout the world and had full access to all modern
communications. So I was certain that the rumors were all a lot of swill.

Gingerman had balls, though. I'll give him that. I was a world-famous,
multi-multi-millionaire who always set his own hours and he was offering me
a job teaching high-school brats in his country? For 50,000 Euros a year?
Hah!

It was so ludicrous; I had to see it for myself.



Chapter Two -- The Offer

Gingerman arranged for his supersonic Gulfstream to pick me up at my home
in Fromage, Wisconsin and take me to Gingerfredonia. It was first-class
treatment, even for me.

He greeted me personally and alone at the Gingerfredonia airport and I was
surprised and delighted to see how unpretentious and normal the guy was for
an absolute monarch. We had met a few times before and I had to admit that
I always kind of liked the guy.

And I liked his stories a little too. I'm not gay, but the thought of those
pretty boys in stockings and heels taking men's big cocks in their bottoms
and squealing helplessly as they spurted their sissy cream often...ahem...
held my interest. Just little, innocent diversions, I reasoned. Thinking
about something isn't the same as doing it, after all.

Gingerman drove me to his palace, which was big and old and impressive. We
sat in his big office and he chatted amiably about my life and his. He
liked being king a lot. And he was very caught up in his latest projects,
which he described as a fantasy spa for well-to-do tgirls [read all about
it in an upcoming story called "Fulfillment"] and "a finishing school for
the offspring of the rich and famous." He told me that the finishing school
was in its third year, had 60 students and was already turning a huge
profit.

When he told me that tuition was 250,000 Euros a year and I remembered what
he had offered me as a salary, I wasn't surprised that it was profitable.
Then he knocked my socks off by telling me who was already on the faculty.
Nobel Prize winners teaching science. Pulitzer Prize winners teaching
journalism. An ex-French-president teaching French. All male faculty and
all incredibly overqualified and underpaid.

Hearing all that scared me a bit. Had Gingerman hypnotized those guys or
something?

Gingerman saw my puzzlement and said, "No coercion, Nick. The faculty all
choose to work here because it's a very satisfying job."

What?

He continued. "We run what old money used to call a finishing school. Rich
people are eager to get their teenagers far away and give them the skills
they'll need to get through life as a rich person, but without the hassle
of doing all that themselves. There are a few major differences though. We
cater to new money, not old. And European finishing schools were for
girls. We only educate boys."

Not a surprise, I thought, considering Gingerman's bent.

"We have a first-rate student body," Gingerman continued. "I know that's
why the faculty works here. They love the students."

OK. But I was no stinking Mr. Chips. I didn't care how brilliant the little
brats were. I started to wonder when that Gulfstream would be taking me
home, when Gingerman said, "Let me introduce you to one of our students."

To be polite, I agreed.

Gingerman got up and walked to his office door. He stuck his head out and
said, "Paul, could you join us please?"

He turned and said to me, "Paul has been with us for three years and is an
honor student." Then he told me who Paul's parents were. I was impressed.

Then a vision of feminine sexual thunder entered the room.

Huh? Who was that? Did Gingerman have an incredibly sexy, mega-babe
secretary? Whoever she was was five-foot six and walking confidently on
five-inch strappy heels. Her tan stockings hugged her delicious legs and
showed perfectly formed, painted toes. Under her tiny skirt, her bottom
invited love. But her face! Heaven had better take roll, I thought, because
an angel was missing. Long, blonde hair in perfect curls. Big, red lips
that pouted for a kiss as she said, "Hello, Mr. Watson. I'm Paul. I love
your books. I've read them all! I'm a big fan."

<Choke> That was Paul?

Why was I surprised? It was pure Gingerman.

Gingerman was smiling neutrally, but I knew he loved surprising me like
that. And I knew he was delighted at my reaction, including the lump in my
pants.

The business at hand though was Paul. Looking at him or her I felt as if I
were in one of Gingerman's trashy stories. Gingerman knew what boys like
Paul did to men. Even to me. Gingerman could see what being in the room
with Paul was doing to me.

Did Paul know that I wanted to put him on his back and kiss him. Then reach
into his panties and...Oh. Enough of that baloney. I wasn't falling into
Gingerman's not-too-subtle trap. I was getting on a plane, a commercial
plane if I had to and going...

"Could I give you a tour of our school, Mr. Watson?" Paul said,

I looked at Gingerman. It was clearly up to me. I considered things. What
harm could a little tour do?

"Yes, thank you, Paul," I said.

And the die was cast.



Chapter Three -- The Tour

Paul was bubbly and girlishly excited to take me around the Gingerfredonia
Finishing School. I thought Gingerman had probably picked the prettiest boy
in the school and dressed him in drag to get me to sign some long-term
contract in blood or something. I was sure that Paul was unique or close to
it. I didn't expect to see any other... Whoa!!!!

Classes were letting out for lunch and doors were flung open.

Emerging into the open air was the greatest collection of teenage beauty I
had seen. Forget those Miss Teenie Queenie beauty pageants. They were
woofies compared to the crew of skyscraper-heeled, micro-miniskirted,
giggling, teasing sexpots wiggling by Paul and me.

My mouth was open and my tongue was hanging to my waist.

I looked at Paul after the last one passed me. "Are they all...?"

"Boys? Yes, sir. But we prefer to call ourselves sissies. Right this way,
Mr. Watson. I'll show you the dorms."

A school full of Pauls? My cock was moist and meaty thinking of being
around all those incredible sissies. Then I got a grip. I was a
jillionaire. And I wasn't gay. I would just keep on making love to women.

But when was the last time I had done that? And how much had I enjoyed it?

Hmmmm.

I was drawn from my reverie by a happily chattering Paul who was showing me
the features of the nice, but not luxurious dorms. What a doll that sissy
was! Then he said, "And this is my room. Let me show you."

Politely, I entered behind Paul and looked around. The room was a feminine
lair. Frills and lace. Stuffed animals and closets stuffed with clothes and
shoes. And every book I ever wrote.

I was looking at some pictures of Paul's famous mother and father and a
young boy, who, I presumed, was once him. I turned around to ask him and
saw him lying on his bed, with his panties down. Stroking a very girlish
cock and tickling a pink bag of pretty balls.

Paul groaned and said, "I'm sorry, Mr. Watson. It's just that being with
you had made me very excited. You're very handsome and sissies are very
highly sexed. We need relief frequently. I hope I'm not embarrassing you,
but I'm so...Oh. Could you help me?"

What would you have done?

I mean the little angel was in distress.

I wasn't made of stone.

I sat next to Paul on his left side. His cock was uncut and leaking sticky
goo. I felt like such a klutz. "What should I do?" I asked.

Paul smiled and my libido ignited. "Just pull my foreskin up and down. It's
so much better when a handsome man does it."

He thought I was handsome! Or was I being fished?

No matter, because the next thing the feminine masterpiece did was blush
and say, "And could you kiss me too?"

I was living one of Gingerman's trashy stories. Or so it seemed. And I was
fainting with lust.

I had never touched a male, "that way." Except for Eddie Van der Walter in
the seventh grade. But Eddie touched me first. Then he moved away.

And there was Paul. His cock looked pink, drooling and tasty. His balls
hung low and seemed to be filled with cum. His eyes were so beautiful. The
lashes were long. His make-up so girlie.

What was the harm? I took his cock in my hand and felt it throb. He groaned
and shuddered with pleasure. He smiled at me in loving gratitude and I
began to skin the little beauty's peeny up and down. He gave a soft squeal.

Then I kissed him. His lips were warm, glossed and delicious. I felt his
cherubic breath and tasted his seraphic tongue.

It was my turn to shudder with pleasure.

Was I crazy?

Apparently. My ears burned as I licked his tongue and wanked him to his
obvious, intense pleasure. He gasped and squealed with sissy delight. Then
he began to spurt glob after glob of his exquisite cream.

I had never been so excited in my life.

I was lying in bed with a boy who was dressed in girlish lingerie,
stockings and heels. His cock was long and limp after his intense cum, the
residue of which was stickily spread on his flat tummy and drooling on my
fingers. He was smiling at me in a loving way.

"You look as if you need help too. Can I help you, Mr. Watson?"

Oh my.

In for a penny in for a pound. I hooked my thumbs in the waist of my
trousers and pulled them down, freeing my stiff cock and full balls.

I prayed that this wasn't some blackmail trap of Gingerman's. Even if it
were, my cock was committed.

The little darling clapped his hands when he saw my cock. No woman ever did
that. Nor did a woman ever immediately and skillfully take my big boy into
her warm, wet mouth.

I had had quite a few blowjobs in my life, but that one set a new
standard. The little doll sucked the life out of me. He licked my balls and
even <gasp> gave my asshole a tonguing to die for. By the time he returned
to my cockhead, I was on a hair trigger to ecstasy.

Ohhhhh. My balls exploded and I poured what I thought was everything I had
down Paul's licking, sucking, voracious, beautiful mouth.

The thought, "This is gay," did not even cross my prurient mind. All I
could think of was, "Are all 60 students here like him?"

After some more glorious kissing, I did a rather naughty thing. I had Paul
lie on his back and I licked up all the cum from his earlier emission. He
adored it and told me so. It was clear to me, he wasn't lying. His big
thingie was stiff, red and throbbing once again.

Praying that Gingerman wasn't filming all this for submission to A&E for my
episode on "Biography," I took the sweet angel's cock into my mouth and
sucked and swirled, licked and twirled, kissed and adored until he made
four more sweet globs of sissy cream for my hungry throat.

I had crossed the Gay Rubicon with that one, all right. Alia iacta est. I
was gay then. Gay cocksucker. Sucked a femmy boy's cock I had. And was
ready to do it again. It tasted wonderful and, even at my advanced age of
45, I had another Woodrow.

Paul was kissing me as if I had just invented sex and had just shown it to
him.

Then he upped the ante.

Wordlessly, he got on all fours and waved his pretty bottom at me.

I looked at him. Did he want me to... He nodded enthusiastically. He did.

But didn't he need lubrication? Gathering more courage than I thought I
would have at that moment, I entered his divine bottom with the middle
finger of my right hand. He squealed in appreciation. It was
wonderful. Women never did that for me. I added another finger to help open
him for our mutual pleasure. The angel had either lubed himself or been
fucked recently. Or both. Because he was plenty wet and slippery back
there.

Paul was gasping and panting and mewing for my cock. Oh golly.

I had never had anal sex before. The women I knew all thought it was
icky. That feminine little doll Paul was begging me to pork his pooper.

I complied with his wishes.

I centered my peehole on his pink rosette, breathed deeply, and pushed.

It went in perfectly. Tight as blazes, but made for my cock. Like inserting
a sword into a hot sheath. Except the sheath doesn't scream in passionate
pleasure, then begin to ejaculate helplessly through a carnal cacophony of
sobs, whimpers and moans.

Paul was the hottest piece of ass I had ever had. And I was fucking his
perfect bottom off.

How much was Gingerman offering me again?

It didn't seem as little as it had two hours earlier.



Chapter Four -- Imposing My Will?

I wanted to talk to Paul about how he had become a sissy angel of love, but
all he wanted to do was drive me insane with orgasms.

Maybe later we would talk.

I stayed with Paul all night, fucking him with erection and cum reserves I
had no idea I had. When I woke up, exhausted, at 9 a.m., Paul was gone.

There was only a note. "I love you, Mr. Watson, but I have classes. I'll
see you soon. When you awake, please call King Fred."

And he signed it "Paul (Tina)" with a big heart drawn next to it.

He loved me! Wow. Or maybe it was "she" loved me. I guessed Paul called
herself Tina too.

I would have to ask Gingerman about that.

I was a big, naked, cummy mess when I heard a knock at the door of Paul's
room. It was a lovely girl of about 14 dressed in a maid's uniform. Her
legs were long and black-stockinged and she walked confidently on very high
heels.

"Good morning, sir," she said. "My name is Vanessa and I'm here to help you
get yourself ready for the day. I have a robe for you and if you'll follow
me, I'll help you get bathed and clothed and fed. Then I must take you to
our King."

I looked at her curiously. Was she a real girl? She was very feminine and
beautiful. Then, stupidly, I realized that I was naked in Paul's bed,
smelling of an ocean of dried cum, and was sporting something I hadn't had
in years. Morning wood.

Vanessa didn't blush. She must have seen quite a few naked men, I began to
surmise. Twenty-four hours ago, I would have been horribly embarrassed to
be seen naked by this delicious darling. That morning, I was considering
asking her (or him) for a fuck.

We men are low characters, I thought.

Then I proved it.

"Did King Fred ask you to take care of ALL of my morning needs, Vanessa?"

Vanessa blushed and said, "Of course, sir. This is Gingerfredonia."

Then she turned around and lifted the rear of her skirts and slip. I could
see a lovely, soft, pink bottom and, not surprisingly, a pair of white,
filmy panties through which, one could see a full package -- cock and
balls. She eased her pretty panties down, reached for my cock, and guided
her prelubed anus onto my rammer.

I loved Gingerfredonia.

The maid's uniform was a turn-on. That and a four-star bottom with anal
muscles massaging my cock made me lose my load surprisingly quickly.

I was breathing very heavily when Vanessa, who clearly had an agenda, got
me on my feet, in my robe, and moving.

When we got to the bathroom, she stripped and joined me in the tub. Forget
Paul/Tina. Vanessa was what I wanted for Christmas. She had boobs for
goodness sakes! Nice ones. And a narrow waist, big hips and a nice cock and
balls.

I had to ask. "Are you a student at the Finishing School?"

Vanessa was soaping my cock and balls so nicely when she answered. "Oh no,
sir. I'm a Gingerfredonian. King Fred selected me almost three years ago to
serve him and my country as a pretty girl."

The rumors were true! "He enslaved you?"

Vanessa giggled. "Of course not. Can't you see how happy I am? I love
serving king and country. I'm only sad that my three years are almost up."

"He only keeps you until you're 14?" I shuddered at Gingerman's
audacity. "Then what? He discards you? Throws you out on the streets, where
you sell your body for crack? Or worse, you go back to being a boy?"

Vanessa was laughing out loud. She kissed me sweetly, then said, "You're a
nice man, but very silly. I would never be a boy again. And as a "veteran,
I receive a very large, lifetime pension. The state will pay my tuition and
expenses at any schools in the world that will admit me, all the way
through doctoral degrees. King Fred is very generous. And a wonderful
lover."

Suddenly I was very jealous of Gingerman. Although he did share. Vanessa
and I got down to some serious lovemaking and I'm afraid I didn't show for
my meeting with Gingerman until around two.

He was in his office watching a rerun of "The A-Team" and acting as if he
were not surprised to see me show up late. He arose to meet me and inquired
about my health.

"You didn't strain any muscles since I saw you last, did you, Old Sport?"

Now he's trying to be Gatsby, I thought. What's his next move?

"I've had a wonderful time in Gingerfredonia," I said. "Suddenly, your
offer is quite tempting."

Gingerman considered me. "But you're not going to take it, are you?"

Actually, I wasn't sure, but Gingerman continued. "Of course not. You're
not a man who wants things handed to him. You want to TAKE what's yours."

Huh? What did he mean?

"Those girls were too easy for you. You want a challenge."

Actually, I was enjoying not having a challenge for once, but he was
right. Sort of. I did want a small challenge. But what?

"Jordan Michaels is the son of Bert Michaels, the music production
king. Jordan hasn't adjusted to sissiness as well as the other boys. In
fact, he's been with us six months and has had no sex. Perhaps the right
man could...help him. Here's his picture."

Trembling, I took the picture from Gingerman. Ohhhh. A doll. A virginal
doll. For me? I could have my way with him or her and no one would
care. That was wrong! But so right too. The Dark Side beckoned to me.

Gingerman read me completely. I gulped and asked, "Do all the students have
sex with men?"

Gingerman smiled slightly and said, "Eventually. And boys too. And other
sissies. And even girls. Some need encouragement. Some, like Paul, are
sucking cock from the day they put on their first panties and stockings. He
was a prodigy."

I sighed. Paul was adorable. And so was Vanessa. What about this Jordan?

"How do you get the boys to become girls?" I asked Gingerman.

He smiled. "It's a lot easier than you would think, Nick. Give me a randy
teenage boy, take his awful boy clothes away and slip a pair of soft, silky
panties on him and he will erect. Add stockings, a garter belt and a bra,
and a quarter of the boys will cream their panties. Get him into heels,
make his face up and put him in front of a full-length mirror and another
quarter of them will spurt their sticky goo into their panties. Have a
good-looking boy his age tell him how pretty he is as the boy kisses him
and rubs his cock through his panties and you'll get another quarter to
orgasm. Then it's easy. Except for that last quarter. The three quarters
who accept their delicious feminine feelings that first day will grow in
their femininity every day until they revel in their girlishness. They will
ache for lingerie, beautiful clothes, jewelry, perfume, makeup and, most of
all, the comfort of men and boys' bodies and the intense orgasms they will
 give and receive from males. It's that darned other quarter."

Was Gingerman crazy? What he had said didn't seem possible. Nevertheless,
my erection had returned at full strength. Thinking about all those
beautiful, randy sissies. My students, perhaps. And that "darned other
quarter."

I asked, "What happens to that `darned other quarter?'"

Gingerman smiled again. He knew I was intrigued. "They all accept their
femininity and the comfort of males eventually. We are very...persistent."

Those boys were being forced into feminization! I didn't recall much of
that in Gingerman's trashy stories, but it appeared he was doing it in real
life. That was illegal! Although not, apparently, in Gingerfredonia.

It was immoral at least. Of course, that was a judgment coming from a man
who had just fucked two young sissies several times in the past 24
hours. And was eager for more.

Jordan looked so sweet in his picture. Gingerman said he was going to
accept his femininity eventually. I would just be helping him. By making
him do what was best for him. That was it. I would be doing a good deed.

I was almost being a boy scout. There. That was better.

I knew that if I ended up "helping" Jordan, I would take Gingerman's
offer. And stay in Gingerfredonia and "teach" and fuck sissies until I was
85 or the Viagra ran out.

Sounded like a good plan to me.

Chapter Five -- Jordan

Gingerman suggested that I rest in one of his guest rooms and he would
bring Jordan to me at four.

<Gulp>

I couldn't do it, could I?

I mean, "force" a boy. Fuck him. Make him suck my cock. As if I were his
master.

Could I?

I lay on the king-size bed in my huge, elegant palace guest room. I wanted
to nap, but I had images of Jordan crying as I fucked him. Begging me to
stop.

It sickened me that I could even consider that. And that it made my cock
throb like a bass drum.

Good to his word, Gingerman knocked on my door at precisely four p.m.

I opened it, but didn't see Gingerman. All I saw was a sweet, pretty young
girl, with her head down in shame. Her long, white-blonde hair was
beautifully styled and her make-up would have been perfect, except for the
ravages of her tears. She was wearing the standard Finishing School uniform
of pleated, plaid skirt, white blouse and big, black, four-inch stiletto
sandals. She was also wearing white, thigh-high stockings that revealed her
luscious thighs. Her lips were pouting and she looked so sad and helpless
that I wanted to protect her or fuck her. Or both. Definitely both.

Then I remembered that "she" was a boy. Gingerfredonia was a wonderful, but
confusing place.

I did hear Gingerman say, "Jordan, this is Nick Watson."

Now Jordan was smart enough to know that his ass was being offered to me
for recreational purposes, but the tiniest light appeared behind his eyes.

"The author?" he asked.

I smiled. Fame was occasionally valuable. "Guilty," I said, with as much
charm as I could muster.

The sobbing stopped and he considered me. "'Human Condition' is my favorite
book," he said.

Well, well. A fan.

Gingerman withdrew. "See you later," he said, then closed the door.

"Would you like a soda or something?" I asked, moving to the room's small
kitchen.

"Yes, please," he said. "A lemonade. With ice."

A good sign. I moved to get us each a lemonade.

"I'm not gay, Mr. Watson."

"I know, Jordan. I'm not either."

Jordan looked at me as if I had just told a very big whopper. "Then what
are you doing here?" he asked.

Good question. "King Fred offered me a job teaching at your school."

He looked at me incredulously. "I thought you were a multimillionaire." The
kid obviously hadn't just fallen off the turnip truck.

"I have enough money. Teaching has other rewards."

"I know what you mean, Mr. Watson. You teachers are always in my dormitory
at night. All night. In the rooms on my floor. Making my gay, sissy
classmates squeal and scream and cum again and again."

Bad attitude on the little tyke. Time for a shift in approach.

"I'm not a teacher yet. I'm just looking. The King said you were having
some problems here. I know it's hard to adjust sometimes. If you recall,
adjusting to adversity was what I wrote about in `Human Condition.'"

He considered me. Then he began to cry again. "I know. I read that book
whenever I'm depressed. It helps me remember that I can get through this
mess -- dressed like a little teenage tramp, with boys and men and my
classmates all wanting to do sex things with me."

The boy was desperate for an ally. So desperate, he was willing to trust
me. I felt evil. But I wanted that feminine treasure's most precious
goodies. I sat and held out my arms. Jordan wrestled with his nature, then
wiggled his perfect bottom across the room and sat on my lap.

I encircled him with my arms and held him as he sobbed.

He told me all about how awful the last six months had been. How he felt
completely abandoned and betrayed by his parents. How his classmates and
teachers disgusted him. For almost two hours, he sobbed and vented!!! I
held and rocked him and told him everything would be all right. I didn't
judge him or offer him solutions. I just listened. And smelled his
perfume. And felt his warm, girlish body against mine.

His feminine side recognized my nonjudgmental listening as what it has
always been to women and girls -- the greatest known aphrodisiac.

After as much of that as I could stand, I had to ask: "Do you ever feel a
physical hunger or a need you can't explain?"

He looked at me hard and said, "Yes. I don't know what it is, but something
is missing."

"When your classmates are having sex, does that excite you?"

I hoped I hadn't gone too far. I hadn't. He said, "A little."

Hmmmm. I asked my third and last question. "Do you ever just want to accept
femininity?"

He looked at me with those huge, liquid, lovely eyes for a long time. Then
he said, "I've thought about it a lot. It scares me."

All the trust I had shamefully built up could have disappeared, but I had
to do it. I kissed his beautiful, soft, warm forehead. He didn't scream. I
cuddled him and rubbed his arms. He seemed to like it. Gathering my
courage, I gave him a little peck on the cheek. He pulled back from me an
inch, then something seemed to change. He relaxed. I kissed his cheek
again. That time he let me and he even let my lips linger on the warm,
rouged flesh.

My cock had never been so stiff in my whole life, as I felt a virgin's soft
surrender, the most exciting thing any man ever feels. More exciting than
penetration is that moment of submission.

With complete confidence, I reached under his skirt and touched his cock
through his panties. I gently outlined his cock and balls with my hand,
thrilled beyond measure that he moaned softly.

Then I kissed his lips.

Oh, Glory.

I knew at that moment that I would never leave Gingerfredonia. Everything I
wanted was there.

Hail Gingerfredonia!

The little angel waved his white, lacy flag and capitulated to me.

He began to kiss me back. Slowly at first, then enthusiastically.

It was fantastic.

Very softly, I entered his mouth with the tip of my tongue. He groaned
sweetly.

Boldly, I reached into his panties and felt his bare, hot, throbbing, hard,
penile flesh. Jordan gasped. He kissed me harder and then shuddered in
ecstasy as cum gushed from his Venus-penis for the first time.

The sweet cherub was startled at the feminine feelings that washed through
her. She arched her back and whimpered as I milked her girlish balls of
every drop of their sissy cream. Her beautiful eyes were wide as she
thanked me wordlessly for freeing her from her boyish shackles.

As her ecstatic spasms subsided, I knew what I needed to do next.

Masterfully, I carried Jordan to the end of my bed and laid her on her
tummy, with her high-heeled feet on the floor. I locked eyes with her and
saw raw need in them as I stripped naked and got on my knees behind her.

I was wondering if Gingerman was standing outside the door to hear her
screams of erotic joy as I parted her bottom cheeks with my thumbs and
plunged my hot tongue into her anus.

She was shaking as if she were being exorcised, and in a way she
was. Exorcised of the mean-spirited demons who had prevented Jordan from
reveling in her femininity. From enjoying a situation many males dream of,
but are terrified to voice.

I licked her nasty place and she wiggled and whimpered, pushing back to
reach all of my taste buds. I was in complete command of her pleasure and I
was delighted when she once again, in complete helplessness, began to gush
her delicious goo, that time drenching sheets and mattress.

She was afraid and excited about what was to happen to her next. To prepare
her a bit more, I eased first one, then two, then three fingers into her
impossibly tight, virginal hole. She screamed and came once again. Even she
had no idea what a hot little piece of ass she was. I had shown her.

I was taking what was mine. Just as Gingerman said. I didn't force her. I
sympathized with her and loved her. And then she was willingly
mine. Gingerman said they all come around eventually.

So it was with a relatively clear conscience that I lay on my back and
asked her to take off her dress and slip. She quickly complied, which told
me that her little pootie was ready for my big boy.

She removed her bra and, Mamma mia! She had little A-cup titties!

Noting my surprise, she said, "They give us `hard cases' hormones to try
and `cure' us of our boyishness."

Goodness! What could I do? I kissed those lovely titty bumps as I finger
fucked my sweet girl to yet another orgasm, this time all over my hairy
chest. That girl loved having her titties worshipped! And fingers in her
pooper.

The sweet darling knew her time had come, so, on her knees, she straddled
my hips, held my stiff weapon in her hand, aimed it at her tight hole, and
began to sit on it.

Ohhhhhh. It was incredible. Her eyes widened. Tears formed, but she pushed
her bottom down, impaling herself completely on my hot spear.

She cried out and erected yet again.

I grabbed her hips and took control of the carnal rhythm.

I gasped out a request that she bend over so we could kiss as we made
love. She liked that a lot. So did I. I tongued her mouth as I caressed her
pink balls and rubbed my cock on her tender prostate. She acted as if she
had been shot with a .357 Magnum love dart.

Every last cum drop in her body evacuated and she cried as the flames of
lust incinerated her.

I joined her in heaven, pumping her bottom full of my manly cream.

She felt better about the Gingerfredonia Finishing School and her life
after that.

So did I.



Chapter Six -- My Own Surrender

Two hours later, after an exhausted Jordan and I stopped making love and
kissed farewell for what I hoped would be a brief time, I found Gingerman
and told him I would be delighted to accept his kind offer of a faculty
position.

"Welcome aboard, Old Sport," he said.

He wasn't the least bit surprised.

I had to ask. "Has anyone ever turned you down?"

He smiled enigmatically. "What do you think?"

I thought not. "Do I need to sign a contract?"

"Of course not. If you want to leave, leave. I think I could find a
replacement very easily, don't you?'

Good point. I was feeling very fortunate at that point.

"Why don't you rest up for ten hours or so, recharge your reserves, and
we'll have a little welcoming celebration," Gingerman suggested. "You've
already met Vanessa. I'll introduce you to some of my other local beauties
who have patriotically offered their perfect bottoms to the movers and
shakers of the world. And to me, of course."

More than one? I guessed I could wait for more Jordan time. Or Paul/Tina
time. More than one? I figured I had better get some sleep. And lots of
fluids.

I slept the sleep of the innocent for nine hours, then awakened, shaved,
showered, and wore the outfit Gingerman had suggested -- A gray tshirt and
matching gym shorts. Comfortable and easy to remove.

A quick breakfast with more juice and water and I was escorted to Gingerman
by one of my future students -- a lovely little brunette confection named
Robert, whose father broke that record with the Whatchamacallits when they
won all those championships. Poor Robert would have to wait, as I would be
sampling the King's private stock that day.

Gingerman was truly generous in that way.

He was dressed as I was and watching an old "ChiPs" episode when I joined
him.

"Ah, Nick. Did you rest well?"

"Yes, thank you, uh."

I didn't know what to call him.

He smiled at that. "We don't stand on ceremony here. Call me Gingerman as
you always did. Or Fred or King or whatever. Just do a good job of
teaching, I'm very serious about education. Remember that and we'll get
along fine. Ready for some fun?"

I loved Gingerman's idea of fun. "Yes, please, Old Sport."

"Good. Me too."

He picked up a phone. "Are the girls ready, Barney? OK, thanks. <Hangup>
Follow me, Nick.'

We walked about 50 yards to the residence part of the palace and entered a
large room with four very large beds, one in each corner. And there they
were. Six beauties from Gingerman's private stock. Six. And I didn't see
any other men. That meant, if I did my math correctly, that I would be dead
or at least seriously incapacitated by the end of the day.

That sounded just fine with me.

The girls' beauty was blinding. And their squealing was deafening.

They were simply the most beautiful, most feminine human beings I had ever
seen assembled in one place.

They acted as if Gingerman were a rock star. They hugged him and kissed him
and jumped up and down, calling him, "Daddy."

Daddy?

Gingerman looked at me and said, "My first Gingerfredonian girl, Lori,
called me `Daddy' and the rest picked it up. It's a little strange, I know,
but this is Gingerfredonia. Ladies, this is Nick Watson, the author. He's a
new faculty member and my honored guest. Missy, Leila and Madison, why
don't you introduce yourselves to Mister Nick over on the northeast bed and
I'll reacquaint myself with Diane, Mary Ellen and Carla on the southwest
bed?"

"Yes, Daddy," the little creampuffs chimed.

Did I mention that they were all wearing babydoll nighties that barely
covered their navels, exposing their erect, girlish cocks and pretty balls
bags, huge heels, stockings and garter belts? And Missy, Leila and Madison
were on a mission to make me happy.

"Oh, Mr. Nick, you're so handsome," Madison said as she sat me on the end
of the bed. Then she sat on my right thigh and began to kiss me.

What a kisser! She was... Oh. Leila had removed my shorts and was on her
knees, conducting a very thorough examination of my very stiff cock.

Then Missy sat on my other thigh and hugged me, removing my tshirt and
rubbing her hands all over my naked chest. She teased my nipples in a way
no one ever had. Then she began to lick them. Ohhhh. Madison kissed me as
Missy worshipped each nipple and Leila sucked my balls.

Had I seriously considered turning this all down at one point?

After about five minutes of that, I thought I had slipped the surly bonds
of earth and was on the planet Lovetron. The orgasm when Leila tongued my
peehole, knocked me flat on my back. A position that the trio exploited.

Leila straddled my shoulders and fed me her delicious cock and
balls. Madison tongued my pooper as Missy reawakened my limp love muscle
with the most talented tongue I had yet encountered,

Leila's cock was a warm, meaty feast. After some fine efforts on my part,
she gave me a huge reward of girlish cum for my enthusiastic attentions to
her pretty penis.

As my mouth filled with goo, I squirmed in ecstasy from being eaten out
deeply for the first time in my life, something no GG on this planet would
do. Miraculously, I produced another woodie, which Madison greedily claimed
as the oldest of the trio. The girls maneuvered me onto my left side, then
Madison spooned in front of me. I entered her and loved it when she gasped
at the insertion.

Madison had lovely, B-cup titties with very erect nipples. I reached under
her wispy nightie and fondled her nipples and fucked her bottom until she
screamed with lust.

Then I got my biggest surprise since arrival on that magnificent
island. Twelve-year-old Missy eased up behind me and slid her four-inch
cock into my bottom as I was gleefully fucking Madison.

It wasn't right. I was the man! And I wasn't going to take girlish peenies
in my pooper very often. But Good Golly, simultaneously fucking and being
fucked did feel wonderful!

I hardly noticed when Leila spooned behind Missy and gave her a big dose of
the joy I was experiencing. A chain of four of us, moving as one in carnal
conjunction. I reached around Madison's hip and skinned her lovely peeny as
we grunted and strained to four intense climaxes.

The next eight hours were an orgasmic blur. I remember licking Missy's
nubby little nipples for an hour while she screamed and came and came,
while Leila was eating Missy's cum from my bottom and Madison was sucking
my balls.

I think that at one point, Diane, Mary Ellen and Carla switched with my
trio and Missy, Leila and Madison sissied over to engulf their fearless
leader for quite some time.

Ten hours after that, I awoke alone, in a nice bedroom, wearing pajamas and
clutching a teddy bear.

I felt as if I had run consecutive marathons wearing 20-pound boots. But I
was very optimistic about my future.



Chapter Seven -- Life in Academia

The day after my orgy of all orgies, I cleaned up and met with Gingerman
and Bernard Fife, the former, major-university president who was the
finishing school's headmaster. After a few minutes of curriculum
discussions, Gingerman excused himself to go watch the Mod Squad marathon
he was beaming in on satellite that day. Fife ran the school for Gingerman,
who really only dealt with faculty recruiting and appropriation of profits
for his own uses.

Fife was a good man. He helped me understand what I needed to teach and how
I would go about it.

He was also there for the same reason I was. The sissy pussy. So were we
all.

"I want our faculty to be happy, Nick," Fife said. "And that never seems to
be a problem. There are 60 students and only 15 of us. About forty-five of
them will do any darned sexual thing we want. As often as we want. And
squeal with glee. The other fifteen, fourteen now, thanks to you I hear,
are a bit more challenging. But that's OK too.

"Having sex with their teachers is something that most students around the
world want to do, but are denied. We break that evil circle of deprivation,
Nick. We fuck our students' sissy bottoms off and make them spurt gallons
of their sticky cream. We make them happy and fulfilled sissies. We satisfy
their needs to ingest men's cum and make men happy. We're do-gooders,
Nick. The first band of true, caring academicians. It's a noble calling
you've chosen, my friend."

A good lie when you want to hear it is the most comforting thing one person
can do for another.

"Now we've been working for three hours," Fife said, "Let's take a break
and get a couple of those little sissies in here and pork their pretty
bottoms."

A capital idea!

My noble headmaster pulled out his cell phone and three minutes later, two
giggling sissies entered our workspace. One was the glorious, brunette
Robert, who had escorted me from A to B once before, earning my admiration
and hope for a later meeting. The other was an exquisite little creampuff
named Thomas, whose blonde curls and long legs drove men insane with lust.

Fife offered me first choice. Ohhhhhh. I wanted them both! But I didn't
want to be piggy. Fife saw my dilemma and said, "Oh, please, Nick. Both
dolls are yours. I'll go find another for myself and meet you in two
hours."

Robert had my cock out and Thomas was removing her panties as Fife closed
the door.

Thank goodness it was only two hours. My cock was going to have to toughen
up and get calluses or something. All that fucking was making it sore.

That's what we call a good problem.

The next day I began teaching creative writing. My schedule was light --
one 90-minute class in the morning and one in the afternoon -- and the
class size was small -- ten in each.

But consider who those ten were. Ten glorious, delicious dolls, all hot for
my cock. At least that was what I told myself.

I must say that the students were serious about learning about creative
writing. I was the one who was getting distracted. Especially by
Jordan. Who was sitting in the front row of my morning class.

I hadn't seen Jordan since our "date," and despite my many other
distractions, I missed her. She smiled shyly at me. Did she know how cute
she was when she did that? I think she did.

I gave a good class, but I found myself transfixed now and then by Jordan's
toes. They were quite visible through her strappy, big-heeled sandals and
tan stockings. She had painted the nails a hot pink -- my favorite -- and
her lipstick matched. Those toes. Mmmm.

When class was over, the girls were all flirting with me, but Fife advised
me that if I wanted to cut one out of the herd, I could just say, "I'd like
Jordan to stay after class, please." And all the others would leave. Every
classroom had an adjoining bedroom suite where instructors could counsel
their students.

I wasn't sure about Jordan's feelings for me at that point until we entered
the instructor's bedroom and she kissed me passionately.

"I was so afraid you would never choose me again," Jordan said. Her tears
were joyful.

I was choked up too. "Jordan, you're very special to me, Baby. <Kiss> <Hug>
Are you happier now?"

"Oh, yes, Mr. Nick. I've been having s-e-x with some of the other girls and
they're teaching me so much. One even shared her boyfriend with me -- a
Gingerfredonian boy named Franco who works at the palace. It was dreamy!"

A pang of jealousy stung me until I remembered my activities of the past
few days.

See. I did do the little doll a good turn.

She could even be coquettish. "I saw you looking at my toes in class,
Mr. Nick. Do you like them?"

I never thought of myself as a toe guy, but I admitted, "Yes, Sweetie. Very
much. They're adorable."

Jordan blushed. "Would you like to kiss them and suck them? I've never had
that done, but my cock is very hard thinking about you doing that."

Never deny a lady, I always say. I sat her on the couch and kissed her for
a long time. We both managed to get down to lingerie for her and birthday
suit for me. Then she leaned back on the couch and caught my stiff cock
between her stockinged feet. I saw those beautiful toes teasing and
tormenting my cockhead as she giggled with girlish joy. It was too much. I
came like a gusher all over those pretty digits as she rubbed cum on my
balls with her dainty footsie.

Ohhhhhhh.

"Now look at the mess you made, Mr. Nick. How will I ever go to classes
with your gooies all over my pretty toes?"

Jordan had come a great distance in a short time. She undoubtedly had had
many examples among her classmates, but she was already a great
prickteaser. And prickpleaser.

I crossed another big hurdle. Looking into her heartbreakingly beautiful
eyes, I licked my own cum off Jordan's warm, stockinged feet. In case
you're wondering, it was sexy, not disgusting. And it fired my little doll
up.

When I had licked her clean, she unhooked each stocking from its garter and
rolled it slowly down, teasing me so much that I produced yet another stiff
tribute to her femininity.

Then she lay on her back and, with her feet on my naked lap, wiggled her
delicious toes at me. Her cock had escaped her panties and was standing
skinned and proud. Her little ballsack promised delights I was planning to
ingest. But first, the toes.

I held her right foot in my hand and it was my turn to tease. I sucked her
big toe as if it were a cock and watched her eyes pop. Then I said, "Do you
like that?"

"Yes!!!" she gasped. "Please don't stop!!!"

I smiled, and took my time about things. I kissed the sole of her angelic
foot, then began to lick between each toe.

"Uhhhhhh," my angel of the year moaned. She was close to making a big cummy
mess.

I stopped and allowed her to cool down. Then I worshipped her left foot,
sucking each toe, tounging the crevices between and making her squeal. Each
time she appeared to be nearing an orgasm, I would stop and discuss her
studies with her.

I was being bad, I know. But the result was worth it.

When I knew she could stand no more, I got off the couch and onto my
knees. I kissed my sweet angel as she lay on her back, then I devoured her
girlish cock and balls with incessant kisses, licks and sucks.

She was whimpering and squealing until a huge grand crisis seized her and
buffeted her about. She screamed, "I love you, Mr. Nick," as she drowned me
with the sweetest liquid on earth. A sissy's hot, sticky cum, delivered
directly from its source.

I drained her balls, then kissed her sweetly and cummily, reassuring her
that I loved her too. She noticed my stiffy, remarked on it, then took it
into her warm, secret place to care for it properly.

And that was just the morning of my first day of teaching.

I think I'm going to like being an educator in Gingerfredonia.

It's good to give something back to the world as you get some small
recompense for yourself. I feel good about myself now. Wouldn't you?


Please tell me what you think at gingerfred2005@yahoo.com

My other stories on nifty:

"Acting Up" transgender -- control

"Panty Pleasures" transgender -- young friends

"Woodville" transgender -- tv

"Mothered" transgender -- control

"Panty Town" transgender -- teen

"Tradition" transgender -- teen

"Punished" transgender -- high school

"Panty Paradise" transgender -- teen

"Kevin and Molly Go to Camp" -- transgender -- teen

"Lovelife" -- transgender -- high school

"My Three Sissies" -- transgender -- tv

"Acting Out" -- transgender -- high school

"Explorers" -- transgender -- high school

"Pantied" -- transgender -- young friends

"Rebuilding" -- transgender -- teen

"The Au Pair" -- transgender -- surgery

"Birthday Girl" -- transgender -- teen

"Genes" -- transgender -- high school

"Brothers in Panties" -- transgender -- teen

"Coach" -- transgender -- control

"Intervention" -- transgender -- high school

"Winners" -- transgender -- teen

"Teased" transgender -- high school

"Irish Girls" transgender -- teen