|
Josie (7/8)
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
This is a file from my archive. I didn't write it but I hope you
enjoy it.
Quicksilver-Iota
******************************************
THE GUINEA PIG
CHAPTER
17
Monica entered Joe's room with her gear and looked at the
sleeping man. Lifting the satin coverlet from his body, she paused
to watch the rise and fall of his breasts under his satin and lace
negligee as he breathed. The drug in his dinner had worked well.
Continuing with her task, Monica pulled the hem of his negligee up
over his hips. The only natural hair left on his body was a
triangle of silky pubic hair. Monica lathered it up and began
shaving it off.
Joe woke up muddled the next morning and tried to get up.
"Joe, get back in bed," said Monica. "And lie on your
stomach."
Joe did as directed, but wasn't very comfortable; his breasts
didn't make very good pillows. Monica flipped Joe's negligee up to
reveal the soft globes of his ass cheeks. Placing her hand in the
small of his back to hold him still, she injected the contents of
a needle into one. Joe felt a sting as the needle slipped into his
right buttock. "What's that for?" he asked Monica.
"Don't worry about it. Just turn over and lie back."
Monica left the room. When she returned, with two attendants
pushing a gurney, Joe was out like a light. She watched the
gorgeous man as the negligee was striped from his lush body, which
was then transferred to the gurney. Joe was wheeled out of his
room, and into a new life.
CHAPTER
18
Joe was dreaming. He was chasing a pretty blonde girl. She was
a knockout and he wanted her. He wanted her so badly that his balls
itched, and his cock was so hard it hurt. Then it dawned on him;
the girl he was chasing was himself, as he looked now.
Joe woke up. He was very dizzy, but able to comprehend that he
was in his room. He didn't notice the lack of sensation below his
waist. Dr. van Damme, Monica, and another doctor were at his
bedside. Joe giggled. "Hi guys. What's going on."
The doctor shot a needle into the IV drip in Joe's arm. Joe
started to fade. "Hey Monica, you're looking great. Say my balls
ache, would you rub them for me?" Then he was gone.
Monica looked at the doctor curiously. "How could he?"
The Doctor answered her. "The same way some amputees get
cramps in the calves of legs that aren't there anymore."
CHAPTER
19
Joe gradually returned to consciousness. Trying to check
himself out, he discovered his restraints. "What has that crazy
bitch done to me now?" he thought.
What was there left to do to him? "No. Monica said the Doctor
wouldn't do that," he recalled.
Dr. van Damme, the surgeon, and Monica entered his room,
alerted to his awakening by the monitors. "Don't try to move Joe,"
said Dr. van Damme. "You've been given a spinal block and can't
feel below the waist. You might hurt something by moving around
with no sensation."
"So what bunch of suffering human beings am I helping today?"
Joe asked her cynically.
"I'm happy to tell you Joe, that you represent new hope for
thousands of transsexuals."
"WHAT?"
"Well, since you asked. Many men aren't men at all, but rather
a woman's psyche in a man's body. Their only possibility of
happiness is sex reassignment surgery; what you'd call it a sex
change. The problem is that the state of the art of surgery today
results in more mutilation than change. The post-operative
transsexual is usually left with a pathetic imitation of a vagina.
I'm happy to tell you that the surgical procedure we have
developed, and tested on you, was totally successful in the
construction of fully functional female sex organs."
Joe was shrieking and in shock.
After several minutes he looked up, still wailing. "But
Monica, you said ... "
"I told you that you could keep your precious little balls you
foolish boy, and I didn't lie to you."
Monica held up a mirror so Joe could see his face. Brushing
his hair back from his ears she pointed at two diminutive gold
globes, one of which adorned each earlobe.
Joe sobbed in his pillow.
Later on, having cried himself out, the giddy man addressed
Dr. van Damme. "So you did it. You've changed me into a woman."
"Not really Joe. Let's examine your situation. You have the
beauty, the figure, and now even the secondary sex characteristics
of a woman. You may, over time, even acquire the needs and desires
of a woman, but you are and shall always be a man since you lack
what truly makes a woman female; a womb and ovaries. However, you
also lack what makes a man male; a penis and testicles. Now a woman
is the equal of a man, but since you are something less than a man,
it follows that you must be less than a woman. Don't you ever
forget that you are an imitation, a plaything created in
retribution for the way you lived your life. You're gorgeous,
you're sexy, but basically Joe, you're only a eunuch." On that note
she left with the surgeon.
In the hall outside, the surgeon asked her. "Why were you so
severe with him? He's been through a lot. His vagina cannot be
distinguished from that of a genetic female and I did a superb job
on the plumbing. Why any gynecologist who examined him would
testify in court that he is a woman who has suffered from cancer
and been given a hysterectomy ."
Dr. van Damme answered him. "Doctor there's more going on here
than meets the eye. Part of what we are doing to Joe is punishing
him. Dave Weinstein's earlier experiments have shown us that a man
who is feminized unwillingly can eventually find refuge in his
femininity. Dave tells me that this approach we're using on Joe
will establish in him a streak of rebellion which will prevent that
from occurring. He will cling to the fact that he is a man, even
though he could never convince anyone of that fact."
They walked on.
Later, in his bed, Joe thought to himself. "They may give me
a woman's body, but I'm still Joe Watson. My body may betray me,
but my mind won't. I will not let it. I'm Joe Watson and I'm a man,
and no matter what they do to me, I'll always remember that in my
brain, where it counts. They'll never conquer my spirit."
CHAPTER
20
Joe lay in his bed. He had lost count of the days and weeks as
he watched the world go by through the fog of drugs and, after the
spinal block had worn off, pain.
With the passage of time, his body recuperated and this
morning the doctor had removed the last bandages shielding his
operation, pronounced him fully healed, and extracted the catheter.
It felt very peculiar to Joe, to have his insides probed and
scrutinized like that.
Joe refused to look at himself, and tried to ignore his
metamorphosis. Then the inevitable happened; he had to go to the
bathroom. He tried to ignore his bladder, but couldn't for long.
Reluctantly, he got out of bed, thankful for the long satin
nightgown, which covered him from neck to ankles.
In the bathroom, Joe frowned at the toilet. "I guess I'd
better get used to this."
Raising the back of his gown, Joe lowered his abundant ass
onto the seat. "At least those muscles haven't changed," Joe
thought as he urinated. Joe enjoyed the relief pissing brought and
when he was done stood up. letting his gown fall only to feel
wetness on his thighs as urine ran down them.
"Cripes!"
Joe gathered up his gown and sat down again. He'd forgotten
that girls had to wipe. Even though he wasn't a girl, he still
pissed like one and had to copy their hygienic techniques. He
bunched up some toilet paper and, looking away, stuck his hand down
and dabbed. When he was satisfied that he was dry, he got up and
returned to bed.
Outside his room, Dave Weinstein spoke to Monica.
"I am certain that Joe is depressed, resentful, and hostile
over the removal of his genitals. I think we should give him some
valium, then why don't you get him dressed as we discussed and see
if we can get his transvestite programming to take control of his
emotions.
Monica entered the room.
"Up and at 'em Joe."
Joe just glared at her.
"Joseph Watson! You get out of that bed right now and take
this medicine, before I call Dr. Van Damme and have you punished."
Joe complied, and after he had swallowed the Valium, Monica
sat him down and went to work on his hair to kill time until the
medication calmed him. Monica rolled Joe's hair up in curlers and
put lotion on it to keep the curls in. When she was done, Monica
pulled Joe's gown off. He instinctively brought his hands up over
his breasts. Monica snickered at this. "Oh come on Joe. There's no
secrets between friends, right? Here hold these."
Joe held up what looked like a pair of stockings, but they
were different. Holding them up, he recognized them as fishnet
hose. He hadn't seen them on a woman in years, except in some of
his men's magazines. Part of his mind considered what he would look
like in them. Not counting on Joe's cooperation, Monica put a
garter belt around his waist and hooked it in back. After sitting
him down, she rapidly rolled the hose up each leg. Standing Joe up,
Monica hooked up the hose and tightened the suspenders. She noticed
that he wouldn't look down. Sitting him down again, Monica slipped
shoes on his feet; red patent leather open-toed sandals with ankle
straps and five inch heels. She noticed how his red toenails peeked
out through the mesh of his stockings. "Sexy," she thought as she
buckled the straps tight.
Monica brought out a pair of French-cut black satin and lace
panties. She put them on over Joe's shoes then, standing him up,
pulled them slowly up his legs. Joe perceived a new sensation as
Monica pulled the panties up over his hips, a slight pressure on
his genital area that he 'd never experienced before.
All of a sudden Joe wanted to see what he looked like. He
walked over to the mirror. "Boy don't my legs look great?" Joe
asked himself.
Joe still resented the loss of his cock and balls, but the
drug had taken effect and besides, part of him liked the fact that
his panties fit properly now; with no protrusion or bulges from his
cock or balls. Joe could see his pubic hair, which had regrown,
through the lace, which ended at a satin panel which was flush
against his crotch. Beneath the taut material Joe could see the
outline of his new vulva. The transvestite in him was elated. Isn't
this the ultimate in cross-dressing? Joe felt his nipples tingle.
"Where's my bra?" he asked Monica.
"We're going to try something different today. Just wait."
Monica had Joe step into a skirt and she worked it up over his
hips. It was a black kidskin miniskirt and was it ever tight. Not
knowing that the clothes were designed to fit like that, Joe
thought. "I've got to lose some weight."
Joe looked at his profile. No outline of his cock showed, just
the feminine swell of his pelvis under the skirt. Monica held up a
strip of red leather and wrapped it around Joe's chest. "What's
that?" he asked.
"It's a bustier. Don't worry it will support you."
Monica pulled it together and fastened it. Joe's breasts were
tightly confined in its firm grip and he could tell that it would
support them, but looking down he discovered that it sure as hell
didn't cover them. It just squashed his breasts together and
offered them up for public inspection.
Monica wrapped a white patent leather belt around his waist
and gave him a matching purse. Taking an atomizer, she sprayed Joe
with perfume; behind his knees, between his breasts, on his neck
and shoulders. Joe was enveloped in an intoxicating fragrance.
Monica put the bottle in his bag, then removed the curlers from his
hair. Lifting Joe's golden curls, she placed a fine gold chain
around his neck. Attached to it was a locket which settled in his
cleavage. Joe picked it out. "I wonder what this is?" he thought.
Joe found a tiny latch and managed to open it. Inside was a
picture of himself; before any of the changes. Joe just stared at
it, surprised that he wasn't annoyed at this final humiliation. The
drug had kicked in Joe was not in control of his emotions. Rather
than anger or hate, some other passion built."I wasn't a bad
looking hunk," thought Joe as Monica brushed out his hair.
Joe didn't know it but he was getting turned on by his own
picture. His nipples stiffened and then he felt a well-known
commotion in his crotch. He was getting a hard on."Is it possible?"
Joe wondered. "Maybe my cock isn't gone, just hidden."
Joe resolved to check it out at the first opportunity, as he
shut the locket and returned it to the valley between his boobs.
Monica put some dangling gold earrings in his multiple-pierced ears
and gave him a gold link bracelet and a huge aquamarine ring.
Slipping the ring on his right ring-finger, Monica told him,
"Remember this Joe, aquamarine is your new birth-stone."
"What do you mean?"
"Well you're a new man, so to speak, so we'll use the day you
were made to celebrate your birthday from now on."
Joe followed Monica, finding it was much easier to walk without his
balls being pinched all the time. He liked the feel of leather on his
skin, the way his hair bounced when he walked and brushed against his
shoulders and back, and especially he liked the perfume he wore. Joe
knew he must look pretty sexy and he felt sexy, but it never occurred
to him, that he looked for all the world, like a very beautiful, very
high-priced call girl. As he sashayed down the hall; breasts bouncing
and hips and ass swaying with every mincing step he took.
***********
End josie7.txt
Continued josie8.txt
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
To find out more about the anon service, send mail to [email protected].
Due to the double-blind, any mail replies to this message will be anonymized,
and an anonymous id will be allocated automatically. You have been warned.
Please report any problems, inappropriate use etc. to [email protected].
|
|
