Alana

by She-Devil

Alan looked himself over in the mirror carefully, picking a bit of fluff or lint here and there from his tight, pink, angora sweater dress. The black patent belt around his waist was too wide and tight and the black patent spikes on his feet were too tall for him to ever think of walking very far.

Alan combed a little more mousse through his ultra-short champagne pink hair. The punkish single finger of hair, tinted from pink to lavender, hung at his nape down between his shoulder blades. His make up was perfect. In the mirror, Alan was an alluring, sexy woman - all except for the neat dark mustache `she' wore.

Getting some white wine from the fridge, he still couldn't believe how he had gotten himself into this. Trapped as a woman with breasts, figure, and all! And all over a stupid mustache.

Before all this, Alan Ross was one of the up-and-comers on Wall Street. He made big money, had all the hot investments, was definitely loaded. Along the way he met Sheila, blonde and beautiful, the perfect sort of female accessory for a soon-to-be power broker in the big time money game. Sheila moved in and made herself useful.

Sheila started to input Alan's transactions into the personal computer in his study. Then, she started to run his projections. Sheila handled his bills, his calls, his schedule. With Sheila doing the grunt work of his life, Alan did whatever he pleased. He certainly had the time.

Christmas Day was Sheila's birthday and Alan had a pave diamond bracelet from Tiffany's for her. But Sheila seemed distant and sullen. Oh what the hell! She's probably just starting her period thought Alan.

"Sheila, I got you something to show you just how much I appreciate you and all you've done. I wanted it to be something really special and I hope you like it."

Sheila ooed and aahhed but still she seemed not quite right.

"What's up, Sheila? You're not yourself. Want to tell me about it?"

"I know it's silly, but there is something that I'd really like. It wouldn't cost a thing, but I know it would be asking a lot of you."

"So tell me what it is and maybe I can make it happen."

"Would you shave off your moustache? You see it really bothers me. I keep getting tickled by when we kiss and I don't like the way it looks on you."

No way! Alan was well aware that at 5'6" and 135 pounds that he was on the delicate side for a man by anyone's standards. His moustache was part his `masculine' image, part of what made him one of the boys. Sorry, but shaving it off was something he wouldn't do for anybody.

"Sheila, I love you, really I do but I don't think I can do that. I would look like a kid or a girl or something if I shaved it off."

"Dammit Alan! If you loved me you'd do it. I bet you'd rather dress like a girl than shave that stupid thing off."

Angry now, Alan retorted. "If that's what you want to hear, you're damn right! I would. I'd rather dress like a girl than shave my moustache off."

Sheila stormed out, sulking. These arguments are a drag. I need to get her in line. If she's going to start breaking my balls, this bitch is history. Alan stewed alone.

*********

Sheila slipped out of bed. Alan snored noisily and stirred as she left but remained out of it.

In the bathroom, Sheila pulled a small glass vial from behind a picture. Morphal X, the latest project at X Industries, where it was referred to as M-X. She knew the name came from the word morphallaxis, meaning regeneration of a part or transformation of one part into another by means of structural reorganization with only limited production of new cells. Sheila had paid a fortune...well, Alan had, after all it was his money.. for this stuff. Still experimental and hard to find even on the black market, it worked by taking up the fatty deposits and water buildup in the body and redistributing all that mass to the hips and breasts. X Industries saw potential in it to replace, or as an adjunct to, cosmetic surgery but hadn't dealt with the side effects of rapid hair growth and loss of height. How much to give Alan?

The instructions said one cc for every twenty pounds. After his macho pig act tonight, Sheila wanted to make sure he got what was coming to him. The right dosage should have been 6.75 cc's, but the needle capacity was 9 cc's, so that's what Sheila filled it to. A little spray anesthetic hid the prick of the ultra-fine needle when Sheila slipped it into Alan's rear and he soon had the powerful drug coursing through his body.

*********

"Oh my God! What's happened to me?"

Alan was standing in front of a full length mirror by the time Sheila got to his room. Nice job that M-X did. Alan was shorter by at least two inches. He had what looked like a fat pair of `C' cup breasts and his hips were getting nice and wide.

"Shut up, you little sissy!"

Alan saw Sheila for the first time. She was dressed head to toe in black leather. In her six inch heels, she towered over the rapidly feminizing male.

"Sheila, what did you do to me?"

"I took you at your word. You said you would rather look like a girl than shave off your moustache. Now, you do. And a very sexy girl, I must say."

Sheila caught a handful of Alan's now shoulder length chestnut hair and pulled him to his toes.

"Let's get something straight from the beginning. I'm a lot stronger than you, I'm a lot smarter than you, and if you don't do exactly as I say, I'll make your life hell."

Too terrified to speak, Alan could only nod his submission. To his dismay, Sheila pulled box after box of woman's clothing from the closets. It was obvious that she'd been planning this for some time.

"I have to make a few phone calls. While I'm busy, I want you to put all your new clothing away neatly and throw all your old men's stuff in these boxes." Alan was left in a daze as Sheila made her way to the study.

First, out came all the male clothes; suits, slacks, shirts, and shoes. In went dozens of pairs of sexy panties and bras. The bras seemed to run in sizes from 38C to 44D. These were followed by all sorts of frilly lingerie including tap panties, stockings, and garter belts. There were also several corsets that looked like they would be very uncomfortable to wear.

Then there were the dresses, skirts, blouses, and sweaters. And the shoes! By the time Sheila returned, Alan had the bedroom switched around as ordered. Every stitch of male clothing was boxed and ready to go.

"Well now, Alana. Oh yes, I've decided to call you Alana. We certainly can't call you Alan. Here are the rules: You are to get up every morning at 6 A.M. I want you dressed in your Maid's Uniform, made up, and in the kitchen by seven. At 7:30, you will serve me breakfast in bed."

"After I leave for work, you will change into whatever clothes I have specified for you to wear that day. From then, until noon, you will clean the place from top to bottom, whether it's clean or not."

"At noon, you can eat the lunch I leave for you."

"After lunch, you will change into your third outfit of the day and watch soap operas and talk shows all afternoon. I'll be taping them so you had better pay attention. I might just ask a few questions. God help you if you don't know the answers."

"Just before I return home, you will change again and have a drink ready for me. After the dinner you will cook and serve, another change of clothes for you and time to get all your changes for the next day laid out, give yourself a beauty facial, and, of course, care for your precious moustache."

"See, that's the biggest joke of all. You won't grow any more facial hair, but you do have a little moustache problem, don't you? So many girls do. Well, if your a very, very good girl and you beg me every night before I put you to bed, I might let you have it electrolysized off.'

Alan looked at himself in the mirror. Unbelievably, he hadn't noticed. His moustache was still there, ludicrous now on such a feminine face.

"Sheila.." My God, he thought, even my voice is changing! "Sheila. I'm begging you. Let me shave it off. I'll shave it off right away and keep it off for good. Just don't do this to me. I'll do anything you want..."

Sheila cut off Alan's quivering plea. "You'll do whatever i say because I tell you to and you'll keep that moustache until I decide to believe that you are sincere."

"Now get dressed. Someone's coming over, and I have plans for you."

*********

Alan's face was burning hot. His hair had been washed and was now being cut. Cut really short, maybe a quarter of an inch long. The floor was covered with long brown hair. One long lock of hair was left to trail down his back, and Alan was forced to sit as a thick white goo was worked into his hair. After a few minutes, his scalp was burning, but no one paid him the least attention. Finally, the hairdresser put his head back in the sink and rinsed his hair thoroughly for nearly twenty minutes. Now another lotion was being rubbed in. Alan couldn't see himself, they had covered the mirrors. When she came to the single lock down his back, she seemed almost to be painting. Rinsed again, now he could see what had been done to him.

His hair was pink and that tail was purple. And so short! The hairdresser looked at Alan in his black spandex jumpsuit with the big chrome industrial zipper running down between his legs and snickered.

"Listen, Dearie, I can't wait for you to overcome your little moustache problem and come into my shop for a total beauty treatment. I'd love to help you stay pretty like this."

This was part of Sheila's plan and Alan new it. Even after she had bonded the false pussy... Sheila called it a duralatex vagiform...to cover his male genitals, Sheila had made sure that the hairdresser knew exactly what was being done to him.

Alan was setting out tomorrow's changes under Sheila's strict eyes. Six changes to plan for, with accessories and make up to suit. Looking at what was now laid out made him feel even more sick and anxious.

Alan had a hot, perfumed, bubble bath, followed by a mud mask facial. Sheila laced him into a wasp waisted corset that pushed his breasts up high and compressed his waist substantially. From 26 inches to 21, Alan felt cut in half. But scarier was the fact that the edges did not meet in back. It was going to get worse.

There were ankle boots with ballet toes and no heels that locked his feet straight and stiff. Satin mittens that buttoned up to his elbows made his hands useless. Finally, after rubbing skin creams into his face, Sheila laced a lined satin helmet about his head. A rubber sponge filled his mouth. He could breathe through it but barely. The mask made him blind, deaf, and dumb.

Sheila arranged her subject on the bed, his big breasts thrusting upwards nicely. Using wide satin ribbons from D-rings at his toes and hand pods, Sheila pulled Alan spread-eagle on the black satin sheets. The white satin of Alan's bondage contrasted fabulously. It was all going perfectly.

Lastly, Sheila wheeled over a drip stand with a fat enema bag hanging from it. Into the bag she poured a powder and a big pitcher of water. `X Industries Destabilized Animal Fat', that's just what this sissy needs, thought Sheila. This stuff was reduced to a ratio of sixteen to one so that one ounce equaled a pound of fat. Sheila added another drop of M-X to the mix and fixed a long plastic tube from the bag to the white access tube jutting so conveniently from Alan's mouth.

So tomorrow, my little sissy will be ten pounds heavier, and with the M-X, it will go to all the right places. Sheila couldn't help giggling to herself as she watched the treacherous fluid beginning to drip into Alan's sponge gag. He would have to drink every drop just to breathe. And in the morning, when all his clothes are tight...maybe even too tight to get on! Sheila found herself laughing out loud and not ever wanting to stop.

*********

Alan carried the tray carefully into Sheila's bedroom. His dress was much too tight to go quickly. Thank God it was a stretchy fabric. At least he had been able to wiggle into it. And the way his breasts stuck out was really embarrassing. They hadn't looked this big last night. A 38C bra hadn't fit this morning, and now the 40D felt a little snug.

"Good morning, Sheila. Your breakfast is served."

Sheila eyed her latest undertaking. Look at the butt on this one. Alan had to be 40 inches across the hips and he was much more busty now. Alan couldn't keep the sway out of his hips now when he walked, and his hobble skirt only served to accentuate his feminine gait. But then, there was that silly moustache.

"Good morning, Alana. How did you sleep?"

Fearing some trick, Alan smiled. "Very well, thank you."

Alana, I don't want you calling me by name anymore. Please refer to me as Ma'am and, whenever I enter or leave a room, I'll expect you to curtsey."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"And keep your eyes down. Speak only when spoken to. I want to see your hands limp at your sides unless doing something at my direction. And stand with your back very straight and shoulders back."