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Making a Woman of Him Ch. 01

By: ElRoylk



"Who's he?" Millard pointed to the slight figured guy passing hors d'oeuvres through the crowded party room. 

"Chester," John responded, screwing up his face. "He's kind of queer." 

"I'll say. Isn't it a little late to be rushing?" 

"Oh, he isn't rushing," John paused to take a swig from his beer. "No...Chester was accepted last fall. He just dresses that way." 

"But...since when is this house, like, gay?" Millard looked more amused than alarmed. 

"Shit, no. And I was out voted. Not because I give a shit what the guy likes to take up his ass, but I just didn't think his...tastes...fit with the house." 

"He looks kinda young to be in college...you sure he's even legal?" 

"Fuck you, Millard. Besides, he's older than you." 

"No fucking way. Really?" 

"Yeah, he's old enough to be in graduate school, but he doesn't have enough credits...whatever. Why the fuck should I care?" 

The two stood, silently watching Chester move through the crowd, his French Maid's costume raising eyebrows from every one of the guests when he passed by. 

As John swept his eyes back through the crowd they caught Corrine's for just a moment. She raised her eyebrows and nudged her head in Chester's direction. John just shrugged and tipped his glass to break contact. 

"So what's up with the new maid?" She startled him, appearing next to his ear faster than he could have imagined. 

"Please. I don't want to talk about him." He cleared the beer from his throat. 

"When did you guys get so equal opportunity?" 

Corrine could be...so difficult. "Look. He rushed, the house voted. He got in. I couldn't believe it, but here he is. I figured he wouldn't last a week. In fact, he took such a hazing that first month I didn't believe he'd even stay in school. But here he is." She made him more nervous than usual. 

"Nice outfit." 

"Shit. That's nothing. You should see his closet. Some of the guys tossed the whole thing out, and a week later he had it restocked. Evening gowns, full length gloves, skirts. Shit." 

"What's his name?" She seemed to have taken an extraordinary interest in the little shit. 

"Chester. Chester McMillan." 

"Oh. McMillan." 

"Like, I should know what that means?" He knew he was treading on thin ice, but leave it to Corrine to keep tabs on all of the People One Should Know. 

"No. I wouldn't expect you to know. McMillan - only one of the wealthiest families in the region. Railroad money from way back. He's been raised on kilts. Maybe that explains it." She continued to sip from her drink staring at John. He gave a shrug. 

"Whatever. Anyway, we laid down the rules - no fucking around with other guys in the house, keeps a 3.5 or better, and he watches his ps and qs." 

She raised an eyebrow, her face smug. "And?" 

"Fucker's a genius. 4.0 as far as I can tell, and I never see him do any homework. Housework, yes. Homework, no." 

"I noticed the place had a woman's touch." She let her hand drift down John's shirt, her fingers rubbing his nipples through the material. 

"Fuck." He shivered a little. "You should see this guy clean. Like a mother-fucker. Every time I come home he's dusting there, vacuuming here. That's one thing I'll say for him, we've never had such a spotless bathroom since I've moved here." 

"Hmmm...it gives a woman ideas," she stared at John and turned to look at Chester. "What makes you think he's gay?" 

The question stopped both of them. They looked down at her like she was crazy. 

"Doh?" 

She dropped her hand to her hip and stood back. "Seriously. Just 'cause he cross dresses and likes to keep house? Ever see him with another guy?" 

"No fuckin' way. Like I said. If he brought one home, he'd be kicked out." 

"On campus? Does he hang at the Queer Lodge?" 

"Now how would I know that? I don't go drinking over there?" John wasn't ready for Corrine tonight. He could tell she was building up to something, and he couldn't take whatever it was. It wouldn't end well for him. It usually didn't. 

"Cleans house, eh?" He could see a glint in her eye. "Would you guys be willing to lend him to us for a week or so?" 

"Mmmmm," He stalled trying to figure out her angle. Corrine always had an angle. "I don't see why not. Overnights?" 

"Hey, not a problem, right? If he's gay we're in the clear, and I can see where his fastidiousness could come in handy. Wendy's out this semester on Junior Year Abroad. He can sleep in her room. 

"Let me check with the council, but I'm sure they'd be fine. By the way -- how old did you say he was?" 

"I didn't. To you." He paused, hoping she'd just go away. "22. I think." 

"Wow." She turned her attention to another part of the room, their conversation over. 

The two of them breathed a sigh of relief, shaking their heads wondering what she was brewing. 

* - * - * - * 

She watched as Chester walked up the drive, tugging his rolling suitcase behind him, a large handbag on his shoulder. She noted his outfit: a lightweight periwinkle cotton blouse, a pair of Italian cut slacks and low key blue pumps. He appeared nervous. 

She opened the door to his knock, hoping to disarm him with a smile. 

"Chester! How great you could come! My name is Corrine and I'm the house lead. Please come in!" She stepped aside to let him into the foyer, his suitcase bumping up over the threshold. 

He stood looking around, uncomfortable and quiet. 

Corrine continued. "You've picked a perfect time to come over. Almost all of the girls are at classes or out, so this should give us a chance to get to know one another and settle you in. Let's get you into your room." 

She turned towards the stairs, looking over her shoulder to make sure he understood to follow her. Assured he had gotten the message, she ascended. "One of our girls is spending the semester abroad, in Florence actually, so her room is available. Usually we'd put a guest in the guest room, but I think Wendy's would be a better spot." 

She waited at the top of the stair, watching him drag the suitcase behind him. He never met her gaze directly, always looking down or back. Terminally shy, this one. She continued to prattle. "I think you'll like these girls," she pointed to the doors as she passed them, each decorated with small blackboards, stick-on flowers, posters of rock stars. "And I understand you like to clean, right?" 

He looked up at her at that and gave a shy smile and quickly looked away. 

"Here we are," she stopped at an open door, the room brightly lit by the south facing windows. Wendy had a great room, overlooking the back yard of the house; a single with a lot of storage. Corrine stepped inside and let him pass through taking a long look at his tight ass, held snugly by the designer slacks. 

She took a seat in the rolling desk chair and pointed vaguely to the rest of the room. He set the suitcase in the middle and stopped to look around. The room was mostly peach and coral, stuffed animals on bookshelves, a painted desk in the corner, a throw rug in center. She watched as his eyes fell on the bright pink coverlet and just stopped and stared. 

"I know, right? I mean, it's a little over the top, especially in this light, but when it's dark you can't really tell what color it all is." She looked up to see him blushing and tried to imagine what he thought was so embarrassing. 

"So, let's see. I think the bureau is practically empty. Why don't you go ahead and unpack your things in that and then I can give you more of a tour." 

He hesitated and looked around, as if he needed to escape, darting glances back at her. He hunched his shoulders a little and lifted the suitcase onto the bed, unzipping it. 

"We have our Council dinner tonight. You picked a great day to start your stayover; everyone will be there and you'll have a chance to meet them all." Her eyes grew larger as he began to empty the suitcase: neatly folded blouses, skirts, a couple of formal gowns, several high heeled open toed sandals, and then the lingerie. Stacks of it. 

Corrine took great pride in knowing her lingerie, but she couldn't place it from where she was sitting. "Wow. That's beautiful stuff. Who's the designer?" 

"It's from Paris," he practically whispered so she couldn't hear the last part. It was the first words she'd heard him utter. 

"Paris. Who?" 

"LolaLuna. Actually, a designer from LolaLuna. She's a friend of the family's." He didn't look up and was blushing the entire time. He finished unpacking and began putting the clothes away. As he hung the dresses in the closet, an idea occurred to her. 

"Um, Chester?" 

He stopped and looked at her. 

"I was wondering," she looked down, as if she too were too shy to look him in the face. "Would you...would you consider modeling a couple of those pieces for me?" She quickly looked up to see his reaction. 

His eyebrows shot up and he looked her in the eyes to see if she really meant it. Seeing her staring directly at him, without a hint of amusement, he blushed again, realizing what it might entail. "Uh, maybe..." He looked back down at the floor. 



"That would be so cool." She saw he wasn't reacting. "Oh! I thought...maybe, like...right now? We have time now. No one will be back for dinner for a couple of hours so we wouldn't be interrupted." She gave what she hoped was an encouraging smile. 

He started to shake his head, looking down and around, but didn't say anything. 

"I'd really love to see what those look like on you. I'd offer to try some on as well, but I don't think we're the same size." Again, she tried to make sure he didn't hear any trace of teasing or condescension. 

"I...guess." He didn't know what to do with his hands. They flitted around his waist and out again. 

She got up and closed the door and sat back down again, rolling slightly away from him to give him space. His fingers slowly went to the top button of his blouse. One by one he released the buttons, all the while looking down at the floor to avoid her eyes. He undid the belt buckle, unbuttoned the waist band and carefully pulled the blouse out of the loosened waistband. 

He even undresses like a woman. 

He slipped the blouse off and pulled a hanger from the rod. His chest was completely clean shaven, nicely toned muscles from his shoulders to a six pack. Corrine registered a little surprise first at the lack of a bra, but then at seeing his underarms completely clean shaven as well, giving her a little jolt at the thought he shaved everywhere. Well, we'll soon see. The image of his penis being smooth aroused her unexpectedly. 

He lifted first one and then another foot behind him to slip of his shoes. She noted he was wearing pantyhose and suppressed the urge to shake her head in disbelief. As his fingers slipped into the waistband he hesitated again, and she thought she could see a definite bulge at the crotch. He's getting excited by this! The thought started her imagination going in six different directions. 

She watched as he slipped the slacks down his waist. They were so tight they pulled the panty hose tops with them along with the cotton bikini briefs. As he pulled them down, her earlier guess was confirmed: he was completely shaved from his waist to the crease where his shaft met his abdomen. She watched, fascinated, as the complex of pants, pantyhose and briefs pulled across his penis, slowly revealing it, until it sprang out, released. It was much larger than she expected for a guy of his slight stature. In fact, it might have been the largest cock she'd ever seen. By the time he had peeled his clothes off and stood naked in front of her, he was at half-mast and growing. Her own arousal was growing along with it. She stared, wondering how far he was willing to let her push him. 

He was blushing so much he was pink from his forehead to his nipples, but he never looked up at her. Instead he busied himself separating his clothes and neatly folding them on the bureau. The distraction seemed to help him; his (not so) little man bobbed around a little lower than before. Even so she continued to marvel at his size. 

He opened a drawer and selected a black lace set of panties, garter belt and camisole. "This is one of my favorites," he said quietly, looking up at her. 

"I'd like to see you in it, Chester. But could you just hang for a sec?" Smiling at her choice of words, she was curious to see how big he would get when he was fully erect. Of course, nothing was hanging on him at this point -- his sac was tight and his cock was practically sticking out. 

Now he really didn't know what to do with his hands. He put them on his thighs, then they drifted up to his shoulders and back again. His eyes darted around the room, down to his growing erection, back to her feet and up to the wall above her head. 

"It's okay, Chester. It's just us girls, right? I've just never seen a girl quite so nicely built before is all." She rolled up close to him. "Here, give me your hands, sweetie." She reached up and took his closest wrist guiding his palm to his tight buns. He brought the other one down on the other side and stood stock still. His penis continued to grow. 

"You have a beautiful little man, Chester. Actually, it's not so little, is it?" She looked up at his face. He couldn't meet her eyes. "Would you mind terribly if I touched it? I'm not sure I've ever seen a penis quite this size before." She hoped her face communicated the right sense of innocence. She wasn't lying, but she felt he was so sensitive he might shut down at the first sign of deception. 

"I guess..." he whispered, nodding slightly, his eyes closed. 

She brought her left hand up to it, letting her fingers graze the underside from the head to his completely shaved balls. 

He breathed out a sigh but didn't budge his own hands. She took this as encouragement, grasping her fingers around his shaft and squeezing it gently. It swelled further, pointing nearly backward toward his navel. She could feel the blood pumping in it and couldn't imagine it getting any harder...or bigger. It was truly a magnificent cock. 

"When was the last time you gave yourself some relief, Chester?" She opened her hand slightly to make it easier to slide along his shaft. She looked up to see him, eyes closed, straining not to look down at her. She looked down at his balls, smooth, hairless, and then further, his legs shaved smooth. She moved her hand up to the ridge of his penis, squeezing slightly at the top. He moaned. 

She was curious, was he shaved everywhere? 

"Chester," she inquired softly. "Could you pull your hands apart, just a little?" She moved her free hand on top of his knuckles closest to her, helping him. He pulled his ass cheeks apart exposing his brown ring to her. Damn. Not a hair on him anywhere. 

He moaned as her fingers moved back down. She took her free hand to feel his balls. The sac was so smooth and unwrinkled, holding their precious cargo tight up to the base of his cock. 

"Chester?" She asked again. "You'll tell me when you are going to release, okay?" 

He moaned again, his legs tightening. 

She wasn't sure what she was going to do. She continued her gentle pumping motion. On the one hand, she wanted to see how far he would ejaculate. She traced the trajectory of imaginary white globules through the air, the plopping sound as they hit the floor. But then she looked and saw they'd get all stuck in the carpet. On the other hand, she would love to have him come in her mouth. Not only did she crave the taste of semen, she wanted to help him feel a little better, maybe soften the blow (so to speak) of this surprising change of plans she had sprung on him. 

He started vibrating at the top of his thighs as if battling an internal war. She felt his balls tighten further, if that was even possible, and knew he was close. She slipped her index finger off his balls to push on the muscle between his hole and his sac and it was more than he could bear. 

He gave a soft moan. 

She felt the liquid bubbling up through his shaft and decided to let it fly. There would be other opportunities to taste him. Besides, he likes to clean so much, I'm sure he'd be delighted to pick up after himself. And then it burst out of him, the thick white stream shot several feet in an arc with a satisfying plop onto the carpet. She moved her hand, milking him as the next batch moved through him. It popped out in a short volley leaving a thin strand to drape across her fingers. This was the part she loved, when boys got so sensitive just after they came. She moved her fingers up to touch the head, causing him to jerk as she lightly stroked it. Scraping her thumb across the open hole, spreading the remaining semen across his glans, he jerked back, opening his cheeks a little more to the cool air. 

She leaned forward to brush her cheek against his smooth thigh, wrapping her arm around his ass and between his legs to hug him closer to him. "That probably felt good, hmm Chester? It seemed like a long time since you last came, yeah? When was that?" She asked her questions gently, softly, hoping he would confide in her. 

"I only relieve myself on the first Sunday of each month," he almost sounded as if he was crying. 

She quickly sat back and looked up at him, keeping her hand on his softening cock, continuing to ease the remaining liquid from him. There was a tear forming at the corner of his eye, now open and looking down at her. She didn't know what to make of his confession. 

"Hey! Let's get cleaned up. I can show you the bathroom and continue the tour." She tried to change the atmosphere, but didn't move, keeping her hand around his shrinking member. 

He looked around, confused. "But...my lingerie...?" They both looked at the lace ensemble resting on the drawer. 

"Hmmm...you're...still...ummm...dribbling a little bit, yeah? You wouldn't want to get any of your jism on your underwear, right?" She pressed his softening shaft one more time for good measure to reinforce the point. A small blob of semen emerged. 

He nodded, embarrassed. "Okay...I'll just throw on a robe...?" 

She let go of his penis and stood up. "Don't be silly. No one will be back for ages." She walked to the door to invite him into the hall, watching his thing and licking the remnants of his cum from the back of her fingers. It's so huge, just hanging there! 

"Down here is the main bathroom," she was several steps down the hall before he reluctantly followed her, naked, his cock swinging. "Three stalls, three showers and a bathtub. We get boys here all the time so don't worry about being the only one with a y-chromosome in the house. If you need a little more privacy there's a single bathroom on the main floor as well." She entered the bathroom beckoning him to one of the sinks. Warming the water she probed a little further into his sexual experience. Just because he cross-dresses, doesn't mean he's gay. The possibilities, if true, began to blossom in her imagination. 

"That wasn't the first time someone did that with you, was it?" She washed her hands under the faucet, looking at his face and letting her gaze stroke the front of his body, coming to rest on his bald cock and balls. 

He swallowed and looked away. It wasn't, but his mind was swirling with confusing emotions -- why did she just do that? It wasn't the first Sunday! What would happen if he got out of cycle? It wasn't the first time, but he wasn't going to tell her who he had done it with before! A faint memory bubbled up, more an emotion than an image. He shivered a little, blushing. 

She reached for a paper towel to help him clean up. "Well, thank you for letting me be the first. I really enjoyed it. I think you have a beautiful body and I'm very impressed with your penis. You have nothing to be embarrassed about!" She ran a stream of water on the towel and turned to hand it to him. Once again, he was blushing from forehead to nipples. 


Making a Woman of Him Ch. 01



"Thank-you," he said quietly, but whether it was for the towel or the compliment she couldn't be sure. 

"I hope you'll let me help you again." She thought about doing it right there, but decided against it. After dinner, perhaps. "And hopefully before the next 1st Sunday!" She added encouragingly. 

When he was done cleaning himself up, she grabbed a few more towels, wetting a couple with soap and water and handed them to him. "You'll probably want to clean up the mess we made in Wendy's room, hmm?" 

He took the towels and gave her a weak smile, joining her as she walked out of the bathroom. 

She made small talk with him while he knelt on the floor scrubbing at the dark spots on the carpet. She studied his back, the way his spine traveled down to his tight ass checks. 

"When was the first time you jacked off?" She sprung it on him in the midst of her prattling. 

"Sorry?" He stopped and looked up at her to make sure he had heard her correctly. 

"I'm curious. Me? I started fingering myself at 15. Closer to 16 I guess. I brushed my pussy washing in the shower one day and I couldn't stop. Didn't actually come for at least a couple months after that first time. So, I was just wondering about you." 

"12." 

"Twelve?!" She hoped she didn't sound as shocked as she felt. Ten years, best guess, and he's really never had anyone else touch him? Shit! 

"Yeah," he mumbled as he worked on the stain. "I was home alone one summer day and tripped across one of my dad's magazines. There was some of my mother's underwear next to it, and I couldn't resist feeling it. I just looked at the pictures and felt the underwear between my fingers until..." 

"Until?" This was the most he'd spoken since she'd met him. She realized she'd been wet for a little while now and getting wetter as he talked about himself. 

"Until...I felt something hot and wet in my pants. I thought I had peed." 

"Wait a minute. You weren't stroking your penis? You were just feeling her underwear?" 

He blushed beet red. "Yes," he confessed quietly. 

"Wow. That must have been some underwear. No wonder you love to wear women's clothes, eh?" She said it admiringly. There was no way she wanted to let this guy think she was mocking him. This was too rich. 

He searched her face for any sarcasm. "It was pretty nice underwear," he said with a little smile, convinced she was serious. He finished his work and stood up. "Sorry." 

She looked at the floor thinking maybe he hadn't gotten it all cleaned up, but realized he was worried more about the hard-on practically poking her in the face. 

She smiled at him and gave the mushroom head a light kiss. "I would never apologize about that," she assured him and stood up from the bed. "It's probably a good idea to throw some clothes on and let me show you the rest of the house." He gets off cleaning. He's not gay. He's so well hung he'll be better than any toy I've ever owned. She could almost hear her vagina squishing she was so wet. Hmmm, the possibilities are almost too many to imagine.



Making a Woman of Him Ch. 02



"Ladies. Ladies!" Corrine quieted the young women seated around the table. Everyone was dressed for the formal dinner, looking their best. Their eyes sparkled in the candlelight almost as much as the crystal glassware at their settings. "As you are all aware, we have a special guest joining our house for a week or so. Everyone, please meet Chester McMillan. I expect you to take some time to get to know Chester." 

They all greeted him, some enthusiastically with smiles, others with a curious reserve, and a few with minimal mumbles. 

"Umm, Chester?" Beatrice hesitated. Beatrice always hesitated. "I'm just wondering. Why do you wear women's clothes?" 

The group broke into nervous tittering as all eyes first went to Corrine and then to Chester. Surprisingly, Corrine's face had turned red, while Chester seemed quite calm. 

"Beatrice!" Corrine hissed. 

"It's quite alright," Chester interrupted softly. "I get that all the time. I can't remember the exact details, but about four or five years ago, I came to the realization I preferred to dress as a woman. Over these past few years, I've taken it very seriously. Hopefully you can give me some pointers." He said the last with a shy smile, looking at their faces and then back to Corrine. "It's a problem for most of the guys I know, but it seems to be a great ice breaker with women." 

Corrine could only think about his pointy big ice breaker buried beneath his formal gown. She licked her lips. 

The admission did break the tension; the table broke into numerous conversations as the food was passed. 

Several of the women asked Chester questions about his preferences for various designers, eventually realizing he had strong opinions about almost all of them. By the time dessert came around, most concluded that Chester was something of a snob: he had snubbed their opinions on several topics regarding dresses, slacks and proper shoes, not to mention accessories. 

Corrine again called them to attention, striking her spoon against her water goblet. "Ladies! There is something else you should know about our new guest." She turned to look at him, watching him blush. What does he think I'm going to say?! She let him squirm for a heartbeat and turned back to her audience. "Chester really likes to clean. According to John, he's never seen the men's house so neat and clean. In return for staying with us, Chester has graciously agreed to help any of you in your household tasks. You are free to interpret that as conservatively or broadly as you see fit, but Chester has confided in me that he really, really likes to clean house!" 

As all eyes returned to him, he blushed and looked down again, unable to stand the attention. 

"Catherine, I believe it is your evening to clear? Donna, you are on washing duty, yes?" 

Before the others could get up, Chester was out of his chair graciously collecting dishes and silverware to bus to the kitchen. 

Catherine, who had been the quietest about Chester's presence in the house, stayed seated, more than happy to let him clear. "I've been saying we should have had a housemaid all along, but I'd never have imagined we'd get a houseboy." No one seemed entirely surprised by Catherine's reaction -- it was rare to hear anything positive coming from her lately. 

Chester continued emptying the table, stacking the dishes for Donna to wash. 

"Did you want me to help with that?" He asked her quietly as Corrine entered the kitchen. Donna smiled and shook her head. "I'm fine. Thanks!" 

Corrine looked down at his crotch to see a bulge beginning to grow. Sheesh, just clearing the dishes turned him on. He must have blue balls all the time. 

"I've made a copy of each girl's chores for the week. I assume you will make sure you've chatted with each one to see how they want to use you." Her raised eyebrows sought his acknowledgment. 

"No problem," he assured her quietly, looking down. 

"I want to be clear about this arrangement, Chester. The Council is just 13 of the 40 women who live in the house. Even though you're an upperclassman you should be quite honored at the privilege we're giving you: a seat at our table, an honorary member of the Council. But with privilege comes duty, obligation and responsibility, and I expect you to keep your end of the bargain. No fraternizing with the underclasswomen and no shouldering their duties. You serve at the pleasure of the House Council. Is that understood?" 

He looked at here and nodded his head, making sure she understood he understood. 

"Feel free to do your evening toilette in the Council bathroom on your floor. I've already told them you'd be in there, so don't feel you have to wait for it to be empty or anything." She tossed the remark off as she left the room. 

He had a dozen questions for her, but she was already down the hall before he could get them out. 

* - * - * - * 

Chester entered the bathroom wearing a gauzy coral-chiffon robe carrying his toiletries case. As he stood in the doorway, scanning the room for an open sink, several of the women looked up. 

He noted with a mixture of alarm and relief that Corrine wasn't there. Alarm because he had felt the beginnings of a bond with Corrine - that she might protect him as he was about to enter the lioness' den. Relief, because he had a sense of shame from the afternoon encounter with her, and he wasn't sure how to face her. 

That Chester couldn't have been more off base in either assessment was as much a credit to his naiveté as it was to Corrine's complete lack of concern for or about him. She watched him from down the hall, hesitating. From the moment she had seen him at the party the other night Corrine had concluded he was the biggest freak-show she'd ever seen. She just had to have him as a play-toy; when the novelty wore off, she'd send him back to the boys. But for now, she could imagine all sorts of wonderful play time in the house. 

"Chester! Come on in. There's a sink over there you can use." 

"Hi Chester! That's a sweet robe. Wow, it looks expensive!" 

His approach to the sink was narrated by several comments and questions, none of which received a response, except the usual deep red blush. 

"You know, girls," Roxie looked up from painting her nails. "I think Chester is the only one dressed in the room. He's new, so I suppose we can forgive him this time, what do you say?" 

He looked around and realized she was right. All around him were women in various stages of undress, just a couple with only a thong or pair of shorts. His eyes moved from breasts to breasts, darting to neatly coiffed pubic regions and back to their eyes, all of which were on him. 

The woman next to him, Lucinda was it? was buck naked, brushing her hair. Her coffee-and-cream skin was exceptional. She turned to him and smiled supportively and set down her brush. 

"The Council bathroom is a no-clothes zone during 'rush hours:' 6AM to 8AM, 8PM to 10PM. If you want to come back a little later, like some of the other girls, you can keep your robe on. Otherwise...I can help you off with that," she looked at him questioningly. 

He wanted to protest, but let her disrobe him, his face reddening further. She reached over, slowly opening his robe and letting it slip it off his shoulders. 

The room filled with several gasps whether because he was completely shaved or the size of his equipment. All eyes were on his member and balls hanging down from his smooth-shaven pubic area. He stood at the sink, uncertain what to do with his toiletry case or his own eyes. He glanced in the mirror rapidly to see what the room was doing. 

"Chester! You're...you're...thing. It's hairless!" 

"You weren't born that way were you?" 

"Beatrice! How stupid can you get? Half of y'all shave, why shouldn't he? I think it's perfectly fetching!" 

"How often do you shave?" 

The questions came like popcorn, too quickly for him to answer. 

"Oh my, look at that blush!" 

It was almost like a special effect - his skin turned pink and then deep red, starting from his hairline and stopping with a straight line across his chest. 

"Seriously, Chester, you are the cleanest shaved man I've ever seen!" 

Lucinda had folded his robe over her arm and stepped back. He looked down to see her own pubic hair had been neatly trimmed to a thin black vertical line, drawing his eyes to her "cleft". He quickly looked away, but it was too late to stop the effect on him; he could feel himself getting hard. "You know," she said to the room as much as to him, "I think we have a special circumstance here, wouldn't you agree ladies?" 

They all looked up at her for a moment, stopping their activities. She paused, staring at his growing erection. "I know some of you bring your boyfriends over, and most of them aren't shy about being in here..." she was interrupted by protests from a couple of women and continued "...now don't try and argue with me, Darla -- you know Roger loves to come in here, and if you don't, well it's about time you did. The man practically hangs out in here when you're at class. Except he doesn't hang much when he's in here. Anyway, I think this little situation is different -- Chester is going to be part of the house for the next week, and some of us on the Council prefer to bathe without the presence of a man in the bathroom. 

"Personally, I don't mind a bit." She paused again to stare at him, pinning him to the sink with her eyes. "But, I suggest that when Chester wants to use the bathroom, he makes sure to hang his robe on the outside of the door so others will know he's in here. What do y'all say to that?" 

Lucinda's suggestion was greeted with a few hearty 'Yeahs!' and disinterested nods, the women mostly staring at Chester's continuing tumescence. Seeing agreement, she walked to the door and hung his robe outside. He watched her the whole time, her naked back and beautiful tight behind would look so nice in a few of the ensembles he had in his room...if she were a little larger, and then on her return, her small breasts pointing out from her chest. This meant he would be naked everytime he was in the bathroom. The thought made him pulse a little and he didn't know why. 

"So...the girls have some questions for you, Chester..." Lucinda sat back down next to him, her legs spread open unselfconsciously as she returned to her toilette. 

He felt like an insect on display. "I, I don't shave," he protested, reaching into the toiletry bag. "I use this..." 

He proffered to Lucinda a plastic jar of a white cream. She studied it carefully. "Shit, this stuff's expensive! French?" 

He nodded his head and turned to get himself organized at the sink. A light touch of fingers on his naked ass made him jump and look up. 

"I'm sorry, but I just had to feel your skin." It was Roxie. She too was naked, her short red hair matched by a dense bush below. "I've never seen a guy this smooth before." Her fingers continued to trail up and down his buns and eventually gently pulled on his thigh, turning him to face the room. His penis had continued to grow and lift. 

"Why, I think it's bigger than it was a moment ago, isn't it Chester?" This observation from Genielle, an incredibly beautiful black woman whose firm breasts were almost covered by dark brown aureolas. 

He swallowed but didn't answer. 

"How often to do you use that stuff?" 

Again he hesitated, aware his penis was stiffening by Roxie's touch and the room's stares. 

"Every Tuesday," he whispered. 

"Well, let's have a dipilatory party!" This from June, a diminutive blond sitting just in front of him, her legs open. He couldn't avoid staring at her completely shaved pubis, her inner lips pink and showing. 

"Suit yourselves, girls. I like my hair and I'm keeping it." Genielle had turned back to her own toiletries ignoring Chester's "growing" unease. 

By this time, several of the women had gotten up to look at him more closely. Roxie's fingers had now trailed to his balls, lightly stroking his sac with the tips of the pads of her fingers. The effect was impossible to ignore. His penis lifted beyond the horizontal. He was dying of embarrassment and wanted her to stop, but couldn't get any words out. He just stared at her staring at him. 

"Wow, you're big, Chester. Much bigger than any guy I've been with. And your balls. Millard's just hang down and swing, but yours. Yours are tight and your sac is so smooth." While she was saying it, Roxie continued to move her hand to the base of his shaft, pulling it down into a more horizontal orientation. 

"Damn, Roxie, you're such a ho! Leave the guy alone." It was said playfully, he didn't know by whom, and it was obvious the speaker didn't want Roxie to do anything of the sort. He swallowed again, frozen in place by the small cluster of naked women. 

"What is this, human bio class?" The scene was interrupted by Catherine walking into the bathroom, dressed in a terrycloth robe. "What're y'all doin' over there, jackin' him off?" 

"Catherine, just because you've never been with a guy doesn't mean you need to be so crude about it. Maybe you should come over here and learn something." 

"Nice one, Roxie. I don't need to play with any guy's dick to get experienced. That's the pot calling the kettle black!" She had turned her back to the group, shrugged out of her robe to reveal a beautiful pair of cheeks and reached into one of the shower stalls to start the water. 

Chester failed to see even a remote parallel with the metaphor -- Roxie's bush was bright orange, Catherine's he noticed, a deep brunette. He watched her turn to face him, his eyes taking in her beautiful figure, quickly darting to her dense brunette bush and imagined her in a wonderful lace teddie. He licked his lips at the thought and his penis gave a little lurch. She caught his furtive glance and drilled into him with her eyes. 

"Why, Catherine, I do believe you're having an effect on the little man!" June had covered her mouth in surprise at the ever growing size of his erection and turned away, flushed. 

"You know," Bethanie spoke up, joining the crowd around him. "I had a boyfriend in high school who was part of the swim team." He felt her palm move from his navel up his front. "He never had any hair here at all, either. I always thought it was so kinky." She rubbed her hand across his nipples, feeling the nubbins get stiff. "But I don't remember him being completely hairless..." She let her fingers trail across his nipples one last time and backed away. 

"I don't know what it is, June, but I gotta 'hand' it to him, he's ginormous." Roxie backed away slightly to expose him to the others. Again gasps filled the air. 

He had stiffened almost to his maximum, the head of his peter a large purple mushroom, the veins on his shaft swollen, purplish green. He thought his penis was offensively ugly, a nuisance for his taste in clothes, and if it weren't for Yvette, he wouldn't have known what he'd do. He'd never been serious about cutting it off - he knew about that surgery - he wasn't interested in the slightest about becoming a girl. It would just be a little more convenient. 

"Well, we can't just leave him like this," Roxie continued. "Shit, I can barely get my whole hand around him!" She had curled her fingers around his shaft, her index finger adjacent to the rim of his head and he pulsed autonomically. 

"Roxie, it isn't nice to play with our guest this way. You should at least ask permission." 

"Chester," she turned to him, "would you like me to help you?" 

For the second time in a day, way beyond his usual schedule, he realized he would cum. This time, the stimulation from Roxie's touch was beyond anything he'd felt before. She held him so perfectly, so much more subtly than Corrine; the feelings from his usual self-attention weren't even in the same universe. 

"Chester?" She stopped, waiting for an answer. 

"I...I don't know. I..." He stammered, torn between confronting them and the sheer embarrassment and humiliation of having his erect penis in front of them. 

"I'll take that as a 'Yes.'" 

He licked his lips. "It's okay. I guess...if it's okay with you." He looked off to the side, avoiding their stares. The thought of ejaculating in front of them was almost too much. 

"You see. I think it's cruel to leave a guy in this state. They get blue balls and they can barely walk." 

"Oh yeah, Roxie, you are one of the most empathetic girls on campus." 

"Very funny, Genielle," she chided back, focusing her fingerwork on his shaft. He stiffened his ass cheeks as she rubbed just beneath the ridge on the underside. "The way I heard it, you had the whole team in your mouth last week." 

"Nice. Very nice." There wasn't any nastiness, just a sisterly bantering that confused him a little. 

"I think this is gross and I wish you'd get it over with already so I can finish up in here." He didn't recognize the woman, maybe Darla. She didn't look up, avoiding the whole scene. 

He looked around at the rest - six of them in the room, one in the shower and Corrine nowhere in sight. With the exception of Genielle and Darla, all of them were watching Roxie rub him, some filing their nails or combing their hair and the effect of being on display put him over the top. 

"Here he comes," Roxie announced. "Mmmm, that's sweet." 

For the second time that day he watched the pearly beads fly topsy-turvy in an arc, landing with a splat on the floor. He noted with some relief that at least it was tile this time, and he spasmed again as Roxie pushed on the underside of his pelvis with her two fingers. More semen burbled out, but just roped down on her fingers. 

"Ewww...that's so disgusting." He snapped his eyes up to see who had said it, embarrassed and humiliated that maybe he really had done something shameful. It was Darla. She was topless, hiding her breasts from him, her privates covered by shorts. 



"Oh, Darla, knock it off. It's sweet. He's a sweetheart. You're just worried about what Roger might say if he knew you were watching a guy get jacked off in the bathroom." Roxie giggled while she washed her hands in the sink, handing him a washcloth. He didn't know if the intention was to have him wipe himself up or wipe up after himself. He did both, starting with his peter and kneeling on the floor to clean up the ejaculate. 

"Such a clean-freak. This is going to be great around here!" June had turned around at the commotion and watched his naked back as he wiped up the floor.



Making a Woman of Him Ch. 03



He had arrived mid-day on Friday. It was now Saturday evening and he considered his situation. Because of all the fuss yesterday, his schedule was in complete ruin. He had tried to make up for it today, and thankfully, for whatever reason, he hadn't been called upon to do any specific chores. 

Either Saturday was quiet, or the women responsible for the chores had forgotten to delegate them to him. He didn't count the clean up at the meals and he hadn't been expected to cook. Apparently they didn't think of that as "cleaning." Several had stopped by to say hello, peeking into Wendy's room and chatting briefly. He had dressed in casual slacks and white blouse with a small bra to fill it out; conservative. He didn't want to create any more scenes if he could avoid them. 

He was told to stay on the Council floor at all times, unless he was exiting or taking meals. That was fine with him -- he didn't need to call any more attention to himself with the rest of the women in the house. His penis was a little uncomfortable, uncomfortable in a way that made him think this was a Monday. He had been very careful for over three years now to only relieve himself once a month, and always on a Sunday night. As a rule, the next day was always a little uncomfortable, but today was more so than usual. 

It wasn't too surprising, given how the women had practically attacked him the previous night on top of Corrine the previous afternoon. 

In addition to waking with an erection, an event he noted only on Mondays after relieving himself, there was a slight pain inside - a small throbbing - that appeared every once in a while. Each time it called itself to his attention, Chester felt a fleeting moment of shame and humiliation. He knew he wasn't "bad" for being a boy and having these urges, but he always felt a little pang of guilt even as the burst of momentary pleasure overwhelmed him. 

He had carefully worked out his scheduled releases so that he didn't wake in the middle of the night all wet and sticky. Once per month seemed to be the minimum necessary, and he could choose the means and method to avoid creating a mess. He would never have allowed the ejaculate to spray hither/thither onto the floor. Usually, he lay in his bed with a proper tissue that could be flushed away. 

His thoughts returned to his homework. Mostly he had caught up, except for a review of the articles in the Poly Sci class. He put away the math book and associated work sheets, careful to place his spiral notebook in its prescribed pouch in his backpack where he could expect to find it on Monday, and took out the PS assignment. It was mostly a review of the writings leading up to the Magna Carta, stuff he could almost recite by rote from his high school AP course years before. 

Within the hour he completed the review, packed it up and prepared to get ready for bed. He wondered if he would be faced with a similar assault in the bathroom again this evening. There was nothing for it except to go about his routine and try to make the best of it. Maybe they were all too distracted by their parties or boyfriends or whatever to pay attention to him. 

He carefully undressed, placing the dirty things in the clothes hamper, hanging the clothes he could wear a second time on their hangers and grabbed his toiletry bag. He reached for the robe unconsciously and then stopped. He looked at the clock -- 10:30; past rush hour. But they had said he had to hang it on the door no matter when. The thought of being caught naked in the bathroom again filled him with mixed emotions: a weird sense of arousal combined with humiliation. If there were any women in the room, they would likely stare. They seemed so obsessed with his peter! He folded the robe over his arm, prepared to leave the room naked as the day he was born. 

He entered the hallway, somewhat self-consciously, expecting at any moment to be accosted by one of the senior women. He walked quickly to the bathroom, his penis swinging from side to side, the motion causing the slight pain from yesterday's attention. The feeling of Corrine's hand forcing him to ejaculate was immediately overwhelmed by the humiliation of Roxie masturbating him in front of the rest of the women. 

Replaying the prior evening's events for the umpteenth time, he wondered what it was about Catherine that gave him a jolt. Even now, as he walked into the bathroom, he realized he was growing slightly, the pendulum swing of his peter slowed somewhat by his mushrooming erection. 

He felt a mixture of relief and disappointment upon entering the deserted bathroom. It was much better to not be bothered at all, and for that he was very relieved. But if he was to be bothered, he thought a little shamefully, it would be much nicer to be bothered the way the women bothered him as opposed to the men. No rat-tails on his naked butt, no cat-calls and jeers as he walked down the hall and no crude references to what the women were all too happy to notice were excellent choices in clothing. He looked down to see the robe draped across his arm and returned to the hall to hang it up. Still no one to be seen. 

Completing his toilette with absolutely no molestation, he returned to his room, slightly deflated. He recognized the symptoms: he was tired, and no doubt so much loss of semen in so short of time was contributing to the mild depression. It surely wasn't healthy to lose that much vital fluid. He picked his favorite silk pajamas, grabbed the latest novel on the stack and slipped into his sheets for a long night's rest. Maybe being in the women's house was going to work out okay. 

* - * - * - * 

He awoke fairly early for a Sunday; he wasn't used to the sun streaming into the windows, and he was surprised to find himself erect for the second day in a row. It was surely a sign of ill health. The over-stimulation by the women on Friday was likely the culprit. He hoped he could get through a second day without further humiliation. 

He grabbed his towel and toiletry bag, remembering the prescription of taking his robe. He kept his pajamas on while he made his way to the bathroom, first to eliminate and then for a much needed shower. He felt grimy, like he had sweated during the night, although he couldn't remember anything in particular to cause night sweats. His forehead was cool, so he wasn't getting sick. He hung the robe on the outside of the bathroom, saw it was empty and quickly stripped out of the PJs. 

As he closed the door to the stall he heard someone else padding in. He hated eliminating with others in the room so he made sure to aim the stream at the side of the bowl to be more discrete. Before he had finished, he heard the shower running and the curtain being pulled closed. 

He flushed and made his way to another shower. 

"Is that you Chester?" It was Genielle. 

"Yes," he said loud enough he hoped for her to hear but not so loud he would be heard outside in the hall. 

"I thought so. No one else I know pees standing up around here. It's Sunday, yeah?" She poked her head out and looked at him. Her hair was filled with lather. He noticed her eyes scanning his body. It made him blush a little. "There you go again turning pink. Damn you're the pinkest person I've ever met. Anyway, it's Sunday. Sunday is my day to clean the showers. I was hoping you'd help me with that." She pulled her head back in and left him wondering what to do next. 

He figured he might as well get started now. He opened the cleaning supplies closet they had pointed out to him Friday night and found what he hoped would be enough equipment: gloves, a scrub brush, and the cleaning fluid. He walked back to one of the empty showers turning on the water as he usually did to begin his washing routine. 

"Hey, Chester! Watcha doing out there?" 

"I was going to clean the showers, Genielle. I thought I'd get started on this one as you are already using that one." 

"Forget that shit. I need to make sure you do it right. Get your little pink ass in here!" 

He shut off the water and looked a little confused. The showers were pretty small and he wasn't sure how he would be able to clean one while it was occupied. 

He stepped up to her shower and pulled back the curtain slightly. "Is there enough room for two of us?" 

"Hell, yes. Get in here. Forget everything but the brush and that spray bottle. Genielle will see to it you clean these showers the way they're supposed to be." 

He stepped in, his arm brushing against her breast. Her nipple trailed across his skin. He shivered at the image of Yvette rising unbidden from his memory. He shook his head to clear it and tried to avoid the touch of her nipple as he squeezed passed her. There was just enough room for the two of them as long as she stayed under the shower head. He turned away from her, a little embarrassed at being so close. Why would Yvette pop up? He was distracted by her memory. 

"Okay, Chester, here's what you do. You start at the top of the corner there and work your way down. That stuff is "all natural," they say, so it shouldn't kill us to breathe it, but it does make you scrub a little harder." He hesitated, looking up where she pointed. "Go on, the hot water will be gone." 

He sprayed the upper corner and stood on his tiptoes holding the brush up as high as he could reach. He strained his calves and couldn't get good leverage to brush very hard. Standing almost half a head shorter than her, there was no way he could clean the way she normally did without a stool to step on. He realized his buns were straining. At least she couldn't see his peter. 

"Oh." She had been rinsing her face and hadn't been paying attention. "You're too short. Well, I'll take care of the high parts. Why don't you get started on where you can reach." 

Much happier with the new arrangement, Chester scrubbed starting at eye level. He enjoyed the feeling of moving his muscles, of working the unseen colonies of bacteria off the wall. It wasn't long before he had scrubbed to the base and continued on the floor. Kneeling as he backed up, he bumped into her, the touch of her thighs against his shoulders made him jump. He was getting hard again. Before this weekend, he'd never suffered an erection when he cleaned. It was confusing. 

"You're doing great, Chester. You really do like to clean. You know, maybe you should hold off on the floor for a minute and work on this side wall here." 

He looked up to see her looming over him, her breasts almost hiding her face, her pubic hair at his eyes. He stood up, careful to not touch her too much and continued his work on the wall. It was a little more cramped now, being next to her, with every brush stroke his elbow grazed her breasts. 

The steam and water was getting in his eyes making him stop more frequently than he would have liked. As he worked his way down the wall he felt her crowd him, pushing her thighs and hips against him, knocking him a little off balance. 

"Hey Chester? How come you shave yourself so much? I've been thinking about your thing there. It's one of the largest I've seen on a white guy, maybe on any guy. Why do you shave him and all?" 

It was torture having to talk about himself while she stared at him. He desperately hoped she couldn't see how hard he was getting. "I don't know, Genielle. I guess it feels cleaner to me that way, you know?" 

"Cleaner, hmm? You think hair is dirty? Lemme see...wait a second." She stood under the stream, leaning into one bent leg, straightening the other. "Hell yes. Have you ever cleaned a woman properly?" 

He swallowed, completely confused by her statement. He stammered and shook his head. He couldn't get the image of Yvette out of his mind. That was different! That wasn't cleaning! 

"I thought not. Okay, today, in addition to cleaning the shower you're going to get a proper lesson in cleaning a woman. Now to begin, take that washcloth back there and get it all lathered up." 

He reached for the cloth over her shoulder. Her breast rubbed against his chest making him wince. He was bent at the waist, his peter sticking out so far he had to struggle not to touch her pubic hair with it. Taking the soap he frothed the cloth with lather. 

"Okay. Y'see, I love my hair, like I said the other night. And I think you will find, after you've cleaned it properly, that you'll like hair too." She raised both hands above her head exposing large tufts of wet black hair under her arms. "Start by scrubbing that mat of hair just as if you were going to rub it off." 

He started to push the cloth against her underarm, but she fell away from him. He realized he would have to support her shoulder with the other hand. The thought made him queasy. Pressing into her shoulder while he rubbed under her arm brought more memories of Yvette rushing into his brain. He swallowed and did as she asked trying to ignore the horrible images of what he'd done, rubbing the cloth back and forth raising a lather in her hair. 

"That's right, Chester. That's the ticket. Now do the other side, just like the first." 

He switched sides, the shower spray blinding him for moment. Working on her body, he couldn't stop thinking about what Yvette had done to him. That was years ago! The first time she had taken a shower with him, the first time he held her; dressing him up-- the impact on his peter was immediate. 

"Whoa, Chester! Something is up, my man. You really enjoy cleaning, don't you?" 

He blushed, knowing she would tease him. 

"There you go again, turning pink. Well, it looks like you got the idea, Chester. That was the practice session. Now for the real cleaning. The hair between my legs gets real dirty and you'll need to work even harder on it." 

He hadn't seen it coming. There was no point in protesting, and it let him bury his erection between his legs, away from her skin. He sank to his knees, backing up as close to the wall as he could and, reaching his arm around her waist to provide resistance, he began the same scrubbing motion on her pubic hair. Even though it was sopping wet, it was wiry and wouldn't take a lather. He stopped for a moment to soap up the cloth and returned to the task. As he scrubbed, he tried to imagine how he would know it was time to stop. 

"That's it, Chester. Keep it up. Let me help you a little." He felt her hands come down on his shoulders to steady him, pulling him a little closer. 

He continued to scrub, moving his hand between her legs to spread the soap all around. Up and out to the top of her mound, back and forth, down and through to her cheeks. He didn't know if he was supposed to wash her there, but then she bent her legs a little giving him more access. 

"Yes. Chester, that's it. You need to make sure I'm totally clean. Everywhere." 

He kept the motion going for what seemed like an eternity, her words urging him on at first and then drifting to just grunts. 

"A little harder, Chester. A little harder, right there. Faster and harder in little circle right there. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes! YES. YES! Keep it coming. YES! YES!" She continued to push her hips at his hands, holding his shoulders while he did what she asked. With all of the water flowing, there wasn't much soap left, but he kept going until she told him to stop. 

He looked down, his emotions swirling like the soapy water around the drain. He was tired from the exertion, and alarmed to see how erect he'd gotten. He pulled his hips back a little to hide from her. Too, he smelled a new aroma in the shower, the images of Yvette overwhelming him -- he knew that smell, an animal smell. He wrinkled his nose and closed his eyes. 

"Chester. You did good. I think you got most the hair sparkling clean...but there's likely one more thing to clean me up properly. This doesn't require a cloth. Here." She held him in place and pushed her mound towards him, making him turn his nose up to face her. Looking up he could see the bottom of her breasts rising and falling, her nipples silhouetted against the ceiling light. 

"Okay, Chester. The only way to properly get that smell out of a woman is with your tongue. I know it smells pretty different from anything you've probably had in the past, but believe me, when you are done, I'll be properly clean. Now, I'm going to press my lips against yours, and you need to stick your tongue as deeply as you can inside me to get all of that smell out." 

He panicked for a moment as the water came down on his face, making him sputter, but she rearranged herself, blocking the stream and then she pressed against his lips. 

He flashed back to Yvette, holding him in the shower. Why now? He panicked a little; it had been so long and so forgotten. His face was beet red at the upwelling memories. She had instructed him how to do what Genielle was asking, but it had been so long ago. She had been the one to help him understand how different women's bodies were from his; she had made him study her to better understand women's clothes. 

His schooling was at the hand of the finest tutors money could buy - sex education was limited to the most basic of plumbing and none of the instruction manuals were nearly as instructive as Yvette had been. The flood of memories, so long repressed, came spilling into his brain, momentarily stopping him. 

"That's it, Chester. She won't bite you. And don't you bite me either, buster!" 

In spite of his memories of his prior experience doing this horrible act, or maybe because of them, he wasn't any better prepared to stick his tongue between Genielle's legs -- as far as he could tell, a vagina was the second dirtiest part of a woman's body. 

He remembered Yvette's smell all of a sudden and it was different from Genielle's now that his nose was right in hers. Hers had smelled of the ocean. This one smelled like hay and barnyard. 

She pushed herself onto his mouth and he opened his lips, his tongue emerging. The hair was wiry and thick; he almost gagged at the thought he would be putting her hair in his mouth, but he couldn't back out -- her hands were against the back of his head. Her lips were filmy, at first he thought it might be soap residue, but as he licked them, the salty taste reminded him of Yvette and he knew it was lubrication. The memory of Yvette laughing at him gagging when she told him it was mucous made his stomach lurch. 

Genielle held him firmly, pushing his mouth tighter against her open vagina. Slipping his tongue between her thick labia, he explored her, tasting more of her fluid, licking his tongue tip back. 

He felt a swollen bump pushing on his upper lip and knew it was her clitoris. He remembered Yvette shoving her fingers against his nose while she forced him to lick her, and he knew she was playing with herself there. 

"Push your tongue as deeply as you can inside me, Chester. It's the only way to clean me up." Her hands continued to hold his head, providing no escape. 

He plunged his tongue in as far as he could, tasting and feeling the salty fluid. He scooped and pistoned, scooped and pistoned, in and out, her hands helping him find a rhythm she seemed to want. He couldn't hear her anymore, the rush of the water and her thighs against his ears, but he felt his way into and out of her. She seemed to be reaching a crescendo, her hands pressing harder on his head, her hips thrusting into his face until she stopped, spasming, holding him tight and then...a torrent of fluid came into his mouth, spilling around his tongue and lips. He thought he might choke as he tried to swallow and breathe. For a split heartbeat he thought she had peed in his mouth, and then he remembered his own first orgasm...did women have semen, too? This was completely new -- Yvette had never done anything like this, and he began to gag at the thought of what he was swallowing. 




Making a Woman of Him Ch. 03



Slowly she released him, letting him sit back on his heels. His nausea came in waves as he pulled hair from his mouth, the taste of her on him. He could feel his stomach spasming. 

"Ooohh, that was good, y'all. That was really really good. I think you cleaned me out proper. Did you feel like you got every drop?" 

He couldn't answer, the rush of feelings was overwhelming. He looked down and saw he was more erect than he could ever remember, his peter seemed to throb. He put his hands on the floor to steady himself and then slowly got up. 

"Well, you've definitely cleaned me up, but there's still this shower to do. I'll get the other two ceilings and tops - you finish up here and get going on the others as quick as you can." Her eyes cast down to his erection sparking a raised eyebrow, and with that she slipped out leaving him a little dazed and confused. 

It didn't take long for him to finish up that shower and the next. He was finishing the second just as Genielle finished work on the ceiling of the third. Stepping out of the shower stall, she watched him rinsing, shaking her head at the size of his penis. He was a small guy, someone she wouldn't even pay attention to on the street, but here, naked, his penis pointing to the sky, rigid and purple, was quite a sight. She'd be in for it with her boyfriend, if he ever found out, but she reminded herself he was screwing around, so fuck him. Besides, it was so early no one in the house was even up yet. He wouldn't find out. 

She watched Chester scrubbing the walls, moving like greased lightning. As he got down on his hands and knees, his cheeks spread open for a moment revealing the cutest little butt-hole she'd ever seen. She stared at his hairless body, how baby-like his skin looked. The memory of his tonguing was still fresh in her mind, the orgasm was a relief; it caused her to want something more. 

"Chester?" 

He jumped at her voice, she had entered the stall behind him. 

"Yes, ma'am?" Somehow he felt he needed to address her with respect. 

"Chester. I'm wondering if you've been cleaning yourself as carefully as you clean the shower and all." 

He stopped, looking up at her, feeling a little intimidated as she towered over him. His eyes scanned her naked breasts and dark bush; he felt guilty for staring. 

"I don't understand, Genielle. What do you mean?" He had always felt a great pride in his hygiene, being careful to wash all parts of him every day. 

She turned on the shower, pointing the spray away from him until it could warm up. Taking a wash cloth and soap, she lathered her hands. He watched from his position on the floor, not sure what to do. 

"You just keep cleaning there. I see you're almost done. But I think you need a thorough washing, maybe in places you have a hard time getting to." 

He did as she directed, losing himself in the task. When her soapy finger stroked the seam between his ass cheeks, he almost cracked his head into the wall jumping from the surprise. 

"What are you doing, Genielle?!" 

"Just take it easy, Chester. Why don't you stand up and be a good kid so I can help you out. You ever wash around here? How about in here?" She gently pushed her soapy index finger against his pink ring. 

He was standing now, facing away from her, the spray coming down his back, her hand between his cheeks, her finger starting to probe a little into his sphincter. Images from his childhood of enemas, administered by his governess, came flashing into his memory. He started another blush. 

"Ummm, yes, ma'am, I clean there every da...OH!" 

She pushed her finger deep into him, using the lather as lubricant. "Hold your cheeks apart, Chester. It will make this much easier for both of us." She continued to move her finger deep into him and pulled it out, washing it off and lathering it again with each movement until she was satisfied she had cleaned the walls of his rectum of any shit he might have there. 

Standing back a little to admire him, his hands spreading his cheeks stretching the wrinkled anus to expose the pink flesh inside, she decided to go for it. Directing the spray onto the pink and brown target, she washed away any soap residue and dropped to her knees. 

"Chester, I think you need as thorough a cleaning as you gave me. It's only fair, and since I know you haven't had one of these, probably ever, you can't tell me you've done a thorough cleaning. So be a dear and hold still while sister Genielle helps you out here." She swiftly moved her lips to his stretched skin, darting her tongue to the hole. She licked all around it, knowing the sensation would drive him nuts. 

He wasn't strong enough in this position to keep from bending as she pushed harder against his exposed backside. She reached her hands up and around his hips to push from the front. The resistance allowed her to push her tongue deeply into his rectum. 

He spluttered at the invasion. He'd never in a million years thought anyone would push their tongue into one of the dirtiest places on his body. His mind was a swirl of emotions: disgust, humiliation, guilt, shame, and something he had never ever felt before. 

Relieving himself, once a month, was as much an act of hygiene as it was efficiency: if he didn't he'd just have to clean up his sheets from the wet mess he'd make at night. Arousal never played into it. There were brief moments of intense feelings when his semen exited his peter, but up until this weekend, he couldn't recall feeling it was pleasure. Now, as her tongue entered his most private place, and her fingers pressed against the flat part of his belly and hips, he felt a glow starting at the tip of his peter spreading towards his balls. It worried him slightly because he'd never felt anything like it before, but it felt good, and he didn't want her to stop. 

She wanted to feel that huge cock of his as she reamed his ass. She gradually shifted her fingers towards his center, letting them touch lightly at the base of his shaft where it met his balls. The lack of hair made her curious, she'd never felt a smooth shaved guy before and she let her fingers travel lightly over his sac and above. She felt his cock pulse and his ring gave a squeeze to her tongue. 

She made a circle of her finger and thumb, squeezing the base of his shaft tightly. He moaned. She squeezed again; this time he pulsed and again squeezed her tongue. She knew pushing on the muscle between his balls and his ass would make him harder and she wanted very much to make him as hard as possible. 

Keeping her tight grip on the base of his shaft with one hand, she brought the other up between her body and his, pushing two fingers into the perineum, feeling the bulge increase in both his cock and his anus. He was trapped in three places and it forced another moan, longer and louder from him. 

The shame and humiliation he felt was more powerful than he'd ever suffered before. Seeing Yvette's face laughing at him as he masturbated, trying to hide his growing erection from her, parading in front of her friends -- none of that came close to the disgust he felt at the moment. Adding to it all was a surge in pleasure unlike anything he'd felt with Yvette. It was going to end in another ejaculation; he just knew it and the thought humiliated him further, his pleasure spiraling up as a result. He couldn't resist the increasingly mounting sensations flooding his groin. The glow had now encompassed his entire peter, his balls, and now was added to by the pistoning of her tongue in his hole. Suddenly he felt the pressure mounting and the glow became a burning volcano. His knees buckled a little and he looked down in amazement as blobs and blobs of white liquid again came pulsing from his purple head. He couldn't remember seeing it like this before - usually it was yellowish, like tapioca. This was pure white, smooth and creamy. He was breathing hard, something else he couldn't recall ever feeling before, and he closed his eyes to the little white blobs floating to the shower drain. 

Genielle pulled out of him with a satisfying pop, grinning at her accomplishment. She'd always wanted to do that to a guy but Chester was the only one she felt was clean enough to give it a try. "There you go, Chester. I think you are definitely much cleaner now. Don't you agree?" 

She stood up to rinse under her arms and down her front, washing her face of any residue from him. He was still standing, his hands spreading his cheeks, a low growling moan coming from him. 

"You can come under the shower, Chester, if you want to rinse off. I'm just going to dry off and get ready for the day." 

He shook his head, trying to get clear with what was happening to him. He felt his peter pulsing over and over again and he couldn't figure out the feelings in his backside. He took her place in the shower, absentmindedly letting the water hit his head. 

"Hey Chester?" She stuck her head in the shower for a moment. "I'm going to ask you to keep this between you and me, yeah? None of the other girls need to know about it, 'cause my guy? If he heard about this, he'd probably come and rip your dick off." 

He looked up in alarm at the image, not sure if she really meant it or not. He nodded his head silent and wide eyed. She smiled at him to soften the message, wished him a good morning and left him alone, confused by these new sensations.



Making a Woman of Him Ch. 04



Back in his room he shivered uncontrollably. Lying on his bed, he watched the last four years clear away like a fog in the afternoon. Yvette! His teeth chattered as his body relived the horrible humiliations she had made him go through.

He was supposed to go to college – he'd had enough credits between his private tutors and the private school his mother had sent him to. He had just turned 18, his mother had given him a car...tears started to flow even though he wouldn't let himself cry. The accident, the whirlwind of lawyers and servants and...then, his father...coming back to the house to "help take care of the poor boy..."

He'd hated his father – abandoned at 10, his mother always told him he was better off without the "abusive bastard" as she referred to him. And then he shows up. Elbowed his way back into the house and his life, carting a new wife and her daughter with him. Yvette. A wet spot crept across his pillow as his tears dripped.

His mother had been very protective of him – no girls, no distractions – so when Yvette showed up, he was confused by his feelings. Even now, after four years, her cruel smile was all he could see. That, and her body – how it filled out her clothes – her beautifully shaped breasts filling those custom bras; he licked his lips and tasted the salt from his tears. Her underwear, filmy lace that showed off her bush, framed by her garters and stockings.

He hated himself for getting hard at the memories. He looked down and saw the tip of his penis beginning to lift. Damn her! 

"So, what do we have here?" 

He stared at the young woman who put her purse down on the foyer secretarial without a thought for scratching the surface. What would his mother say!? But she was gone, he remembered too late, his eyes turning away.

"Yvette – this is my son, Chester. Chester, say hello to your sister, Marylyn's daughter, Yvette."

He murmured something politely and waited, watching as she breezed through the house.

He tried to ignore her, successful only for a day or two, and then she showed up in his room.

"It's polite to knock," he reproached her.

"Your door was open – I thought it would be okay." She sat down on the bed and looked around. "I'm bored. What do you do for fun around here?"

He tried to be polite, but something about her pushed his buttons. She was rude, and a boor, and...and beautiful. He couldn't keep his eyes off of her. She knew it too. He had enough sense to know she knew what effect she had on boys.

"Do you like what you see?" She was smiling at him, watching him staring at the "v" from her collar bone down into her blouse. "That might be fun," she said mysteriously.

He had no idea what she was thinking.

"I have an idea," she said importantly, standing up. He followed her with his eyes, confused by the sudden change in her voice. "Let's tell each other something so secret, no one else in the world knows it." 

He didn't know what to make of her, her face a puzzle, entrancingly beautiful but mischievous. 

"...fuck my mom."

"What??!" He had no idea what she had said, distracted by her face. As he scanned the echo, she kept talking, thinking he might have been scandalized. "I watched your dad fuck my mom" was what she had said.

"I told you it was something so secret no one else in the world knows it. I'd die of shame if you ever told anyone." Was what she was saying.

He gulped, not knowing where to go with the conversation.

"Your turn, silly!" She punched him lightly on the shoulder.

He had no idea what he would say. A secret he hadn't shared with anyone?

"C'mon. Surely you've done something you wouldn't want anyone to know about?"

He just stared at her, falling under a spell. No girl had ever paid this much attention to him.

"It's only fair, Chester! I told you!" She looked as if she would cry.

He didn't know what came over him but he heard himself say it and was mortified even as the words hit his ears. "I masturbate rubbing my mother's panties." 

The effect on her was immediate. She put her hands to her mouth and tried to cover her reaction, but her eyes gave her away. Cruel and laughing at him. He turned away from her and covered his face, humiliated and horrified by what he'd just revealed.

"No. Way." She barely whispered. "That's...too...much."

He looked back at her to see if she was still laughing at him, but she had turned to the door.

"I hope I never see you doing such a nasty thing," she said as she left the room.

Things only got worse from there. The next day he came home from school to see three of his mother's underwear on his bed. He paled, setting his books down. Before he could leave to find Yvette, she was at his door.

"I thought I'd make it a little easier for you – no sense in going into Daddy's room, right?" Her eyes were cold, even though she was smiling.

"What are you doing?" He was nearly in tears.

"I'll tell you what, little brother. I promise not to tell your secret to anyone if you do me the smallest favor."

He wasn't an idiot, but as much as he knew she was blackmailing him, he felt a strange pulse in his groin. "What?"

"I'd like to see you try them on." She said it flatly, as if she was asking for a piece of paper from his binder or a slice of cake.

He looked at her like she was crazy, but the effect on him had been powerful. His emotions were all mixed up.

"You wouldn't..." he whispered. "You promised..."

"Promised? I didn't promise anything. I just was bored and said we should share secrets. That didn't mean I was going to keep them a secret." Her smile was anything but comforting. "Oh now, c'mon. You're not going to cry, are you?"

He was on the verge of tears. It was the most humiliating thing he could imagine. Who would she tell? It didn't matter who, he concluded. It was too horrible.

"So? Yeah?" She stood watching him, her eyes as cold as a snake's.

"Now?" He croaked.

"There's no time like the present. That sounds great!" Her face lit up a little.

He remembered he didn't quite know what to do then. His hands seemed no longer to be attached to his arms – they fluttered around, first to his belt and then to his shirt, out to the panties. He wasn't sure what to do, freaking out.

"Hey. Chester. Take a breather. It's not that big a deal, right? You're just going to get undressed for me – no one is upstairs right now – and you'll put them on. I think they're about your size, by the way – your mom wasn't too big a woman, and you're pretty slight."

Just get undressed for her? She said it like it was the most normal thing in the world. He looked at her, his eyes brimming with tears. He couldn't. It was awful. She was awful. But the face that stared back at him was unmoved and he knew he would do it. If not right then, eventually. He looked down at his belt, tears falling onto the carpet and he saw his fingers undoing the buckle.

"So," she said conversationally, "how was school?" She continued to stand, leaning against the door frame. 

He mumbled something, pulling open his trousers and slipping off his shoes. It had been an okay day at school, actually, but what did that have to do with what was going on here, now? 

"Can you strip down completely naked for me, Chester? I hate to see guys with their socks on. It's pathetic."

He slipped his socks off and felt the cool air all along his legs, the hairs rising up from goosebumps. Looking at the bulged in his brief, he couldn't believe he would be exposing himself to his step-sister. He squeezed his eyes shut and more tears fell.

"Seriously, Chester. Get a grip. You don't think I've seen guys before? It's no biggee. Just take off your clothes and get on with it."

He unbuttoned his shirt and slipped it off, pulling his t-shirt over his head. He could feel his penis getting harder and he couldn't stop from blushing. When he looked back at her face, she was staring at him.

"Do you always blush like that? It's amazing." But the way she said it didn't make him feel she was amazed. He felt like a specimen, like some trophy she was pinning to a board to show at the science fair.

He slipped his thumbs into the waistband of his briefs and before he could think about it, shoved them to the floor, quickly bending over to hide his rising organ. But, he knew staying bent over too long was just silly, so he slowly stood up, his peter beginning to point at her.

"Is that thing loaded, Chester?" She chided him, making him feel even more naked by her stares. "Did anyone tell you how well hung you are?" He thought she was going to come over and touch him and stepped back a little, frightened. She just smiled a little and gestured slightly to the panties. "The mauve ones, I think. Don't you? They look like they're your color."

He turned slightly to reach them, his peter now inexplicably rising further. He was in shock from embarrassment. This wasn't something they'd laugh about over Thanksgiving dinner years in the future. This was...forever. This was totally screwed up and he couldn't stop it. As if he wasn't in his own body, he watched the scene, the naked boy with a huge erection, picking up his mother's underwear while his step-sister looked on. Some awful, sick painting he was posing for. Everything moved in slow motion and all at once, at the same time. He felt the smooth silk slide up his legs, the waistband pulling across his sac...

"Look at me, Chester. I want to see your face as you pull them on. It obviously excites you."

He looked up at her, tears obscuring his vision, the waistband scratching the tender skin under his shaft and then they were on, as high as he could pull them. The material at the crotch hugged his balls, the part in back pulled into his crack. As high as they were, his erection was taller, he knew the head was ballooning out of the waistband but couldn't pull his eyes away from hers.

She was staring at him, taking him in like a camera, memorizing the moment. He was so totally screwed. He started crying, he remembered. Sobbing and begging her to stop. The little boy with the erection in his mother's underwear. So humiliated. So screwed.

Her hands on his shoulders shocked him into silence, even though the touch was tender.

"Shhh...Chester...shhh...you've done it perfectly. Just like I asked. Shhh...don't cry. There's no reason to cry." She drew her hand across his cheek, stroking him, her face right up to his. "This will be our little secret. I promise I won't tell anyone. Shh...I just...well...I just need you to do something else for me..."



Making a Woman of Him Ch. 05



"Chester? Are you awake?" A woman's voice, his mother's, called to him, warm and filled with calm. 

"Mmmm," he moaned.

"Chester. Are you okay?..."

He opened his eyes, the room, unfamiliar. What day was it? What time? Where was he? The image of his mother's face shredding into the dream. The house. The women's house. He jolted awake, looking around.

Corrine was kneeling next to him, concern on her face. "Are you okay? Have you been crying?" He felt her hand drifting down his cheek, the memory of Yvette flooding from her fingertips.

"Don't. Please." He pushed her hand away and looked down to see he had fallen asleep, naked on top of his bed, his peter hard, pointing toward her. "Oh god...my mother..." He closed his eyes and fell against the pillow.

"Your mother? Is your mother okay?" She rested her hand on his shoulder. Her eyes darting to his erection and back to his face.

"My mother? She died..."

"Oh, Chester! I'm so sorry! What..."

"No...no! She died four years ago! I was just dreaming you were her...I mean...never mind...it's okay. I'm okay."

She moved her hand down to his chest, feeling how smooth it was. "It's "4:30. Dinner's in half an hour – you need to get dressed. It's the only required meal all week. All council members, semi-formal." She stroked him lightly on the thigh watching his cock pulse, wanting to wrap her hand around it again. "You sure you're okay?" She asked as she got up to leave.

He nodded, not sure she could see him in the dim light from the hall and rolled off the bed. 4:30! How long had he been asleep!

"Oh, that's too rich!"

He didn't know at first who had spoken as he entered the dining room and found the last open seat. Looking around, he made eye contact with Roxie and Corrine, but ducked them when he saw Genielle looking at him with a thin smile. He peeked back up from his soup and saw Catherine eyeing him from the far corner of the table; he averted her gaze, pretending to listen to Darla.

The past few hours, first with Genielle and then the memory of Yvette welling up, confused him. He barely heard the women chatting about the weekend's events, their teasing about each other's relationships, the tests coming up. He was mildly concerned about his homework – he'd let it slide a little – but that anxiety didn't compare to the images that seemed to pop into his head from Yvette, so many years ago.

"Chester? You seem to be lost in thought!" Corrine sat across from him, offering a bowl of mashed potatoes. "Are you sure you're not coming down with something?" She turned to the rest of the group. "I was coming upstairs to make sure our guest knew about dinner and heard him moaning in his bedroom, the lights off. Now, all of us know the rules, but I thought maybe Chester had a friend with him in there!" She said it jokingly, but it didn't have the desired effect.

"What was going on, Chester?" Roxie chimed in, apparently sincerely concerned.

"It was nothing...seriously. I had fallen asleep – you know? I hardly ever do that in the middle of the day," he was trying heroically to make light of the situation. He didn't dare have them pry any further. "And I had the oddest dream. It was about my mother..." he let it drift off, as another conversation at the table grew more animated. Relieved the attention was off him, he looked up at Corrine who smiled silently at him, her expression suggesting she knew something different. "I'll never tell," she mouthed at him and turned to listen to the rest of the group.

"Who is it you're wearing, Chester?" 

He answered without thinking, "LolaLuna. It's a boutique design house out of Paris. I get many of my clothes from there." He was focused on his food and didn't see the reaction from around the table. Several of the women rolled their eyes, others stopped eating altogether and a few hardly noticed, as if everyone gets custom-made designer clothes from Paris.

He felt odd in the clothes he'd chosen; self-conscious for the first time in...he couldn't remember the last time he'd thought about being dressed as he was. The clothes weren't out of place by any means – a tasteful blouse with a fine lace bra, silk slacks and flats. He fingered the pearls unconsciously, thinking perhaps he shouldn't have worn them...no, they were fine, he noticed, looking around the table. Everything was fine. What was wrong with him? Was he coming down with something? And then it occurred to him – he had ejaculated so many times in one weekend, it couldn't be healthy. He was drained. He needed to back off and let his vital fluids regenerate.

Relieved at finding a diagnosis for his malaise, he brightened a bit, listening with more interest to the chatter around the table. He turned to his right and realized it was June. She had been laughing at a something he couldn't quite catch.

"So, June, did I understand you are graduating this year?"

She turned and smiled at him, a beautiful wide smile, her cheekbones higher than any he'd seen. "Yes, Chester, I am. With great pleasure, I might add. I can't wait to get out of here! And you, what is your story?" She seemed truly interested, her blue eyes looking at him unwavering.

He was struck by that look, hesitating a heartbeat, trying to find his voice. "I...I, uh, well, I'm almost a senior, based on the credits, but I just haven't settled on enough classes in one department to get a clear major..." 

As the conversation went on, he relaxed into June's engaging voice and manner. She was an excellent dinner partner, he decided, and felt the rest of the room melt away. Throughout the rest of the meal, they barely talked with anyone else, and he sensed a deep connection with her, the way she looked at him, her eyes kind and sparkling.

"Well, you two, it's time to retire to the lounge and let the crew clean up." Corrine had appeared next to them.

He broke away from staring at June, to see everyone was gathering their things and leaving the table. "Crew? Isn't it...I mean, aren't I...?

"Sunday," June patted his hand, pushing away from the table. "Our one meal of normalcy." The two waited for him to stand up and they walked through the main hall. 

Chester wasn't sure what to make of it – they entered a room with a crackling fire, desserts on trays, the rest of the women taking places in various sofas and overstuffed chairs. "Are these rooms only for Council members?" He was a little overwhelmed.

"Sundays. Just for us." June had taken one arm, Corrine the other and they led him to a three-seater. "It's a small thing, but I appreciate it." She sat back, her arm going across his shoulders.

"Every Sunday," Catherine said, the sarcasm a little too cutting.

"Oh get over yourself, Cate. You know you love it – the sense of aristocracy, the privilege. It's the closest thing to home you're going to get, so don't try and convince us you think it's 'bourgeois.'" This from Corrine. He looked at her, his smile faint, trying to stay out of what appeared to be an old fight. 

Catherine chose not to engage, reaching for a petit-four.

June and he continued their conversation, but he was a little more self-conscious than he'd been at the table, perhaps because Corrine was on his other side. He got the impression they were competing for his attention, but he wasn't certain. He was trying to be polite and include the both of them, as each asked him questions or responded to something he'd just said. He yawned.

"Why, I think Chester is bored by us, June!" Corrine slapped him lightly on the thigh, leaving her hand there.

June glanced past him, a mischievous smile on her face. "Bored. Hmmph. Here I thought we were having a lovely conversation." She put her hand on his other thigh.

"Bored!? I'm...I'm not bored. Please! I've been enjoying myself for the first time in..." he paused, realizing he might offend several of the girls in the room. "I mean, I'm really enjoying both of your company. Immensely. I just...I'm just a bit tired is all." The thought of his vital fluids returned. "I've been a bit over worked lately, I guess."

"Too much cleaning," Corrine winked.

"Pipe cleaning. Ash hauling. It can wear a man out." June agreed.

Chester was pretty certain they were all talking about the same thing, but he couldn't tell by the looks on their faces. They were looking past him and glancing over his head, eyebrows raised.

"You're not getting ready for bed, Chester? It's only 7!" June asked.

"I...no...I'm...It isn't that late, but I'm feeling so tired," he yawned again, apologizing.

"Let's go, Chester. Time to get you tucked in." Corrine and June both stood up, each holding out a hand to him.

He let them lead him out of the lounge, saying his goodbyes to the other women. As they left, he heard Genielle laughingly say "I believe they've got a nice cream sandwich," a comment he couldn't quite understand.

They left him at his room and continued on, giggling and chatting. He was a little sorry – he'd wished he could spend more time with them, but he had a lot of homework. It was a little white lie saying he was tired, but he couldn't think of another way to get back to his studies. He undressed, careful to hang up the clothes that were still clean, dropping the underwear into the hamper. He wrapped the silk kimono around him and settled into his desk, focusing on his History.

It seemed like just a few minutes had passed when he heard June ask him a question. Looking at the clock, he realized it had been a couple of hours. Disoriented, he glanced to see her standing in the door wearing a short robe, her hair freshly washed.

"What?" He asked, smiling.

"I'm sorry to interrupt. Are you working hard?" Her eyes were bright. She glanced down between his legs. "We're...Corrine and I...we're in the middle of a little study hall and we need...we could use your help. Do you have a minute?"

"Uhh...sure?" He got up, careful to tie the kimono and followed her down the hall. She turned into a doorway he assumed was her room.

"We're having a little trouble," she continued into the room. He looked around but couldn't see Corrine at first, until he heard some movement from the closet. Concerned, he walked over to see what was happening.

"Oh!" He stepped back, embarrassed. Corrine's naked back was to him, her buttocks pointing out of the closet while she was stretching up to get something on the shelf above. She turned to see him and smiled.

"Chester! Thank you so much for coming to help. I'm just getting some art supplies down. Just take a seat...I'll only be a minute..." 

He blushed and backed away, his eyes trying not to stare at her pale skin, tight across her backside. As he bumped into a chair, he looked over and saw June had opened her robe, her hairless pubis pink and fresh from her shower. He could feel the heat rushing to his head.

"What...what did you need my help with?" He wasn't sure where to look, as Corrine exited the closet, her bush a dark triangular target. He glanced at her breasts, wide and small, the nipples bright pink in their small surrounding circles. She was carrying a case about the size of a notebook and as thick as her thumb toward the table next to him. 

"June and I are in a little bit of a pickle, Chester. We are taking this freaking stupid health class, and we waited until the last minute to do this assignment, and now, well, now we're not sure how we're going to get it done." She seemed nonchalant in her nudity as she sat down and opened the case.

He could see a row of colored pencils and other implements. June came over to join her, taking the chair on her opposite side, her robe now completely off,.

"What...ummm, how am I...?" He shrugged, his hands coming up, confused.

"Right. Weeellll," she looked over at June and smiled. "We're supposed to have drawn our ...coochies..." she paused looking at him to see if he understood, "and identified all of its parts...and, well, you can understand...it's kinda...intimate?" As she said it, she spread her legs open and looked down, drawing his eyes.

Her vagina was buried in a mass of hair, dark brown and curly. Out of the corner of his eye, he could just see June's shaved pudenda, pink and glistening. The contrast was...overwhelming. As he looked up, an image of Yvette flashed in his head, and then the scene with Genielle in the shower just this morning...was it just this morning? He shook his head, trying to concentrate.

"But, that's not the first thing, Cor. We could do that without him." June looked over, her face embarrassed. "We are supposed to document whether our vaginas are 'healthy.' But the ways they tell us to do that seem a little difficult with just two of us. It's like they're forcing us to expose ourselves to somebody else!" He could hear a little indignation in her voice.

"What?!" He shared her concern. "They...what?" He stopped confused.

"Here's what it says," June said, pulling out her health book. "The vagina is one of the cleanest parts of a woman's body. The natural lubricants maintain an excellent environment for friendly bacteria. A healthy vagina has a natural scent of hay or fresh mown grass. At times it may smell of the ocean. Hold on...this part's boring...okay, yeah...In the case of a yeast infection, however, the vagina may have off-putting smells, such as spoiled fish, cheese or gym socks....gym socks! Eweeeww." She turned to Corrine. "Have you ever smelled gym socks coming from your vag?"

Corrine smiled and shook her head. "Never."

"Anyway," June continued, looking straight at Chester, "we need someone to smell our vaginas and tell us if they're healthy."

He gulped, his face beet red, his eyes glued to their bodies and his penis beginning to tent out the kimono. He hoped they wouldn't notice as he shifted his body so his peter was under the table. "Smell? Your...vaginas?" He was stalling for time, trying to find a way out. The images of Genielle this morning and a faint memory of Yvette sparked an anxious feeling in his spine.

"Me first, June. We agreed." She turned to him. "I know it's a little embarrassing, Chester, just think what it feels like to us! But if we don't turn something in tomorrow, we'll get a fail and I can't afford to fuck this class up...sorry...foul this class up." She pouted a little, looking down between her spread legs, her hands opening to welcome him.

"It would probably be easier if you got down on your knees, yeah?" June suggested, standing up to help him.

He looked up at her naked hairless body and down at Corrine's full bush, his peter now pushing out from the folds of the kimono and shook his head slightly, still trying to work his way out of the room.

"Be a sweetheart, please?" Corrine took his hands and pulled him gently forward, forcing him away from the table and toward her open legs.

"I...I..." He didn't resist, letting her pull him further, bending his knees in an attempt to hide his erection from them and gently coming down on the floor in front of her.

"Don't be embarrassed, Chester! We've all seen you naked. And erect. I told you before, you have a beautiful not-so-little man! In fact, if it makes you feel better, let's take that silly robe off!" She slid the kimono down his back as far as she could push it, exposing his chest. It caught on the belt and his rising cock.

"It says here," June read from the health manual, "you're assistant is to put his or her nose as far into your vagina as possible and breathe in as deeply as possible."

Corrine put her hands behind his head and pulled him into her thighs, forcing his nose against her rough hair. They could hear him inhale.

"Well?" June waited.

The aroma was thick – different from Genielle's and still different again from his memory of Yvette, the image of her dark black hair flashing again in front of his eyes. "It smells...thick. Like cumin...and salt...."

"What does it say about that?" Corrine tried to look at the book.

"Looking. Hold on! Okay, spices. Yes. Would you say it smells of spices, Chester? Maybe you better do it again."

He tried to back out and look up, but Corrine held his head tight against her inner thighs. His nose pushed into her lips, he could feel her juices on it. He took another deep inhale and almost gagged, the smell was so intense. He breathed back out through his mouth. Nodding, he said, "Yes. It definitely smells like cumin...and salt." Corrine held him there.

"Okay. One down, Cor. Should we do the next one while he's there?"

He couldn't see what they were doing or quite make out what they were saying, but she wouldn't let him up.

"Chester. While you're there, the manual suggests you should taste her. As long as she's passed the sniff test, it says you should test her with your tongue. Have you ever done that before, Chester?"

He didn't react. Genielle's threat and the faint memory of Yvette crowded out any rational thought. He let Corrine tip his head back a little and bring his mouth to her lips. She thrust her pelvis forward and pushed his head firmly against her. He pushed out his tongue and pulled it back when he felt her hairs against it. This can't be clean! He thought.

"I don't think he has much experience at this," Corrine confided. "Try again, Chester. I didn't feel your tongue deep inside me. Isn't that where the book says he needs to lick?"

"Mmm Hmmm. Push your tongue as deep into her vagina as you can, Chester. You know the saying, right? 'Cat got your tongue?' Well this is 'Pussy got your tongue,' right?" She giggled at her joke and Corrine slapped her lightly before pushing his head against her again.

"That's it, Chester. Now you're doing it!"

He extended his tongue as far as he could, feeling the slippery folds inside her lips, the rough hairs brushing against his lips. The smell was still overpowering, but now the salty slimy taste of her fluids coated his tongue and as he drew it back, he felt them going down his throat. He wanted to gag.

"It says you should do it at least three times, to get the deeper fluids. That's apparently what really tells you if things are healthy."

He extended his tongue again, and Corrine pushed hard against his head in one direction, her pelvis against his nose in the other. He felt a glop of liquid in his mouth he quickly swallowed and then he did it a third time. She held him hard, grinding herself against his face as he tried to breathe, until she let him go.

He rolled back onto his heels, the kimono slipping down further to expose his stiff peter. Before he could react, June had bent down and held his cheeks.

"Let me taste." She pushed her lips against his and kissed him deeply, her tongue probing into his mouth, wrestling with his tongue. "Hmmmm....I'd definitely say you are clean, Cor. My turn."

She gently bumped Corrine out of the chair and took her place.

"Remember, smell her first, Chester."

He tried to wipe his face, uncertain if he could do it right with Corrine's scent all over him.

"No fair, Cor. Get something to clean you off him." June pouted a little.

He sat still, watching as Corrine grabbed a washcloth, doused it with water from her plastic bottle and wiped his mouth and nose. He stared at her breasts hanging in front of him as she bent over him. He couldn't help the reaction it caused in him, the thought he was getting harder made him blush.

"You are so adorable, Chester! The way you blush!" She stepped aside and his eyes landed on June's open legs, her clean shaven vagina open and glistening.

He tipped forward and did as she instructed, pushing his nose against her pink lips. Her aroma couldn't have been different – not so much spices as grass, green and fresh. He took another inhale, it smelled so good.

"So? What does it smell like, Chester?" June gently pushed his head back to look at his face. "You're so cute! You have a little of my juice on the tip of your nose." She reached her finger down, brushing the drop off and bringing it to her lips.




Making a Woman of Him Ch. 05



"Grass. Fresh cut grass." He wanted to lean in again to take another whiff.

"Ooohh, that's good June," Corrine cooed. "That's definitely 'clean.' Do the taste test, Chester."

He didn't resist as June pulled his head against her spread legs. He pushed his lips against hers and thrust his tongue as deeply into her as he could, the smell was irresistible. Part of him was disgusted with his behavior, but some other part, a base animal part wanted to eat whatever she had coming out of her vagina. He licked and sucked as hard as he could, embarrassed by the sounds he was making.

"Hah! June, he's practically devouring you! Okay, Chester. Chester! That's enough!" Corrine was laughing, watching June struggling to keep him there even as Corrine was pulling him away.

"And...the verdict...is?" June was breathless.

"I dunno..." he paused, licking his lips.

"I'll admit defeat, June. There's no question Chester thinks you're cleaner than me."

"Well...is it any wonder?" June paused, still out of breath. "It's because you don't shave."

Corrine gasped at the accusation and Chester wondered if they would have an argument. He thought it might be best to leave if they were going to fight, his eyes glancing to the door.

"So, Chester. Did you like the way I tasted?" June stood up and pushed the chair away, clearing the floor in front of him.

He didn't know what to do, sitting on his heels watching her. He nodded slightly.

"According to the manual, it says if you have started cleaning someone out, you should finish the job, otherwise they can get a little clogged up." She knelt down in front of him looking him in the face. "You want to finish the job, right?"

He shrugged, not knowing what she meant, but not wanting to disagree. "I guess?"

Corrine stood next to them, her dark bush in his face. "It says, you're supposed to finish lying down..." June started to lie back on the floor. "Not you, silly. Chester!" They looked at each other smiling, their expressions a complete mystery to him.

June got out of the way, helping him lie on his back, the kimono bunched around his waist, his erection sticking up to the ceiling.

"That's it," Corrine coached him, "don't worry about that. I'll take care of that." 

He didn't know what she was referring to until he felt the kimono opening up and being removed, leaving him naked once again. Yvette's image flashed again, forcing his eyes closed. When he opened them, June had stepped over his head, her feet on either side. He looked up to see her vagina above him, reddish and swollen now, shining from his saliva and her lubricants. She was facing the top of his head, her small breasts barely visible over her thighs.

She slowly lowered herself over his face, until she squatted just above his nose. Her aroma enveloped him, his nose just barely touching those lips. He wanted to reach up and kiss it; he wasn't sure why, but he'd never smelled or tasted anything like it. She lowered another inch, moving forward so her lips were over his mouth. Squatting directly on his face, his nose was pressed against her naked pubis. Her scent seduced him; he opened his mouth and pushed his tongue up into her, feeling her wet channel around it, her liquid flowing. 

Corrine couldn't stand it any longer, kneeling down, she moved her mouth over his cock, sliding it deep into her as far as she could take it. It was huge, hot and salty, just as she had hoped. He practically jumped when she took him, forcing his mouth deeper against June's slit. Corrine smiled, or tried to smile, his cock forcing her lips apart as she slipped it in and out of her, her cheeks sucking in to create as velvety a glove as she could.

He moaned, struggling not to ejaculate again, but unable to resist the intense tingles and glow building at the base of his spine. His tongue shot into June, his mouth pressed as hard against her as he could manage. He could feel June's hard nubbin when his tongue came out and entered again; he didn't know if he should lick it, but it felt smooth and nice to play with. She practically tipped over, gasping and giggling when he did it. 

"Careful, Chester!" She laughed, her hand coming down to his cheek. "Not so rough on my little clit, sweetheart!"

He blushed, not completely certain what she was talking about, but was careful nonetheless to stay clear of that button. He concentrated on cleaning her out; he wanted to do a good job, but he couldn't focus. Corrine's mouth and now her hands were all over him. He moaned again, and knew he couldn't stop himself, feeling his ejaculate bubbling up from his testes and though it sickened him at the thought, he knew it had burst into her mouth. He froze against June's vagina, his tongue extended as deeply as it could go, his body stiff as his penis emptied itself, pulsing.

It's grotesque, he thought, his head resting against the floor, June's vagina pushing down on him. I feel so horrible. June pushed harder against his face, rubbing her lips against him.

"Now you can play with my clit, Chester! Take it gently and suck on it, just like Corrine did with that magnificent cock of yours! Yes...oooohhh....yes, Chester! Gentle, gentle, yes, just like that! Keep doing that!" 

He sucked on the knob gently as she moved her vagina across his chin; her taste enchanted him, even as he worried she would ejaculate into his mouth like he had with Corrine. He pulled on it a little harder, forcing June to moan and push harder against him. They got into a rhythm, push, pull, suck, pull, push, his jaw began to cramp a little; he wasn't sure how long he should do it, until she pushed a little harder and held him there, her lips convulsing slightly, a rush of liquid pouring onto his mouth and neck. He could hear her cry out and hoped he hadn't hurt her.

She sat harder on him, her hands brushing behind her, down his chest and into Corrine's hair where she had rested her head on his belly. He could hear them both breathing, wondering if they had fallen asleep.

Momentarily, she stirred, lifting up and rolling back. "Chester," she sighed. "That was fucking incredible. Have you ever cleaned a woman like that before?" He couldn't see her face, but he got the sense she was teasing him.

He just stared at the ceiling waiting for Corrine to move so he could roll over. His body was a little sore and he needed to go back to his room.

"You don't have to leave, Chester." Corrine suggested, holding back his kimono. "We were just going to crawl into bed and...well...maybe you'd like to sleep over with us tonight?"



Making a Woman of Him Ch. 06



Lying in her bed, Corrine's hand lightly stroking his cheek, he was pulled back to the memory from earlier that day...Yvette stroking his cheek, trying to quiet him from his shame in putting on his mother's underwear. He moaned softly..."This will be our little secret." He remembered her whispering to him, her face right up against his. "I promise I won't tell anyone. Shh...I just...well...I just need you to do something else for me..."

He opened his mouth to protest, but nothing came out. He stood there, his hands by his sides while she gently stroked his face and his shoulders. "What...what...else do...you...want?" He could barely get the words out between sniffles and sobs.

She leaned forward and kissed him, pressing the back of his head with her hand, her lips sealing his mouth, her tongue penetrating him. He couldn't move, he didn't want to move, his hands came up to her back, holding her, not wanting her to leave. He didn't know what was going on, but her kiss flooded him with comfort and release. He took her tongue, as disgusting as it was it seemed to fit: he was disgusting for doing the things he did. She knew it and she was only telling it like it was. Her tongue drifted across his teeth, across his tongue. She took his breath away and then it was over and she was back in front of him, breaking the embrace.

"Not bad for a beginner, Chester. Not bad. But you can do better and I'm going to help you. But about that little favor," she paused looking down at his penis pushing against the waistband. 

He was in a little pain – he'd never restricted his peter before, and he'd never been this excited or stiff. He watched her eyeing him and he shifted hoping she'd get it over with, whatever it was.

"You look like you could use a little help there, little brother. You think?"

He didn't know where she was going. "Yes?" he offered.

"It's just a small thing..."she giggled. "Actually, that's not such a small thing at all, is it."

He blushed more deeply. "What...?" He could barely get the question out, his throat was dry.

"I want to see you do it. In your mom's underwear." She could see he was completely clueless. "Stroke yourself. Masturbate by rubbing your mom's panties. Isn't that how you do it?" She sat down on the bed and waited.

"No..." he whispered. No. No. NOoooo...she couldn't be serious. OHMYGOD. He was screaming inside, his hands flying up to his shoulders and down to his stomach. "You can't be serious..." He stared at her, begging her with his eyes.

"Wouldn't you be more comfortable lying down on the bed?" She ignored him, making room and patting the coverlet near his pillow. Seeing his hesitation, she reached up to take his hand.

As if in a dream, he allowed her to lead him onto the bed, rolling onto his back. She stood up, spreading his legs a little, he didn't know why but he was too far gone to protest and waited. It was inevitable. She wasn't going to go away and he was already too screwed to matter. He felt his fingers brushing against the underside of his erection, the silk smooth and slick on his fingertips.

"Look at me." She said it kindly, as if she was in love with him, but he knew she didn't love him. As much as he wanted to believe she was being kind, he could see the coldness in her eyes. She darted those eyes between his face and his crotch, watching as his motions got more intense, pressing harder against himself, faster until he closed his eyes and his crème jetted out onto his stomach, a large drip landing on his chin.

He could hear her giggling and clapping and it almost sounded sincere, but he didn't dare look at her, his humiliation at what he'd just done flooding in with the guilt. This wasn't the usual routine. This wasn't just clearing out his ductwork. This was something so terribly different and awful, and he knew it wasn't the last time she would be here, watching him.

"That was beautiful, Chester. Beautiful." Her voice wasn't soothing, the compliments more a judgment than a cheer. "You should probably clean up, and I think, if you're really really careful, you won't get any jism on those silk briefs. There aren't that many left, so I'd be careful with them." And she left him to his grief and disgust, alone in the room. 

He avoided her as long as he could, getting up early and out of the house before she awoke, staying away for as long as possible, missing dinner three times that week. No one other than Margaret the housekeeper noticed, and it likely didn't matter – Yvette would have found him whenever she wanted, if she wanted.

Sitting at his desk on Thursday night, he heard her, his heartbeat quickening. What now? He was terrified at the power she had over him.

"Hey little brother," her voice soft. "It's been a while..."

He turned to look at her and froze. She was twirling a pair of light blue panties on her finger, her face expectant. She twitched her eyes to the bed and waited. When he didn't react she smiled, wickedly. "There's no one home tonight – servant's night off, Daddy's away. Time to do the deed, little man."

He choked. "Why? Why are you doing this?" He didn't budge from his chair.

"Because. Because I'm bored, because you are a pathetic little thing, and because I like to see you spray your cum on your stomach wearing your mommy's underwear. Now be a dear and get undressed for your sister."

He didn't move, shaking his head and looking down at her feet.

"I really don't want to have to beg you, Chester darling. It wouldn't be fitting for a woman of my station, do you think? Not very polite of you to deny me this little favor. Besides...it's got to be a lot of fun for you too, no?"

He looked up at her, pleading with his eyes.

"Hmmm...not that you're in any position to negotiate, after all. I mean, what would the kids at school say when they find out..." She left the threat hanging and turned as if to go.

"No! No...wait...Okay. Sure. Yeah...bring 'em back." He had stood up and was taking his shirt off over his head. By the time she re-entered the room, he was down to his briefs, and as she handed him the underwear, he was naked.

"Wait." She stopped him as he bent to put them on. "I want to look at that schlong of yours. It's fucking amazing." She stood in front of him, her hands on her waist and just stared at the sausage hanging between his legs. "Amazing." She waved at him to continue as she sat on the bed.

He pulled them up, his peter stuffed into place and stood there awkwardly.

"What do you think about when you stroke yourself, Chester?" She stared at him, from his face down to his crotch.

"Nothing in particular. I just like the feeling of them." He looked at the wall above her head and let his fingers start to play across the front of the panties. He could feel his erection starting to build, the smooth silk jolting his arousal. He felt ashamed and embarrassed at performing this in front of anyone, especially her, but in spite of it, he was getting hard. 

She watched intently as his cock head began to press against the thin material. "You really get off on this, don't you?" She was just being curious, but her tone was like a dagger into him. He blushed, realizing how awful a scene it must look like. 

His peter was doubled over, the wrong way, the head pointing down and the shaft bent and uncomfortable. He slipped his hand inside to rearrange it, so it could be free to point up. He knew she could see its head and he closed his eyes to hide from his own shame.

"Unnh, unh, Chester. Eyes open. Look at me. You know you want to look at me looking at you doing it."

He struggled to stare at her face. It was beautiful and terrifying at the same time. If her eyes weren't so cold, he thought, he would be truly be in love. Watching her, feeling his peter getting harder, he felt something snap inside – he didn't know how to describe it, but he no longer felt like protesting. He stroked a little harder.

"Nice, Chester. Really nice." She sounded more bored than encouraging.

He looked at her, his eyes staring at her face, his expression a mixture of agony and arousal as he felt his climax building. He'd never done it standing up – it would make such a mess – and he wasn't sure if he would peak this way.

"Are you close?" She might as well have looked at her watch, the way she asked.

"Ummm hmmmm," he moaned, wishing he could close his eyes and get it over with. Half of his peter was out of the panties, the elastic on this pair was no match for how hard he was. His fingers brushed across warm skin and smooth silk; he wasn't sure which felt better. And then he felt himself going over the edge, his crème spurting out all over his hand, the panties and the carpet.

Yvette gasped and clapped. "Beautiful, Chester! That's just beautiful, but you'll need to get that cleaned up. The underwear might be ruined...too bad..." And she left him, the shame and guilt pouring down into his brain.

He couldn't stop the tears of frustration and shame as he cleaned up the mess. He just wanted her to leave him alone!

Each night, she would come to his bedroom door and look in on him, his heart pounding at the thought of what she might make him do. Some nights, she just stared at him, not answering his questions until he would turn back to his homework. Others, she would make him strip and put on another pair of underwear, repeating the horrible scene.

"At least let me use a tissue, Yvette!" He pleaded quietly, as he got hard.

She dismissed his concerns, waiting until he had cum before walking away.

By the middle of the third week, his emotions began to shift, confusingly. He spent most of the day wondering if she would come to his room, hoping she wouldn't, and then, hoping she would. The nights she didn't come he was relieved and inexplicably anxious, until one night after waiting for her and realizing she wasn't coming, he went to his mother's drawer and removed one of the last clean pairs of underwear. His father wasn't home and he listened carefully for any movement in the house. It was quiet. 

Feeling an urge growing in his belly, he quickly removed his clothes in the master bedroom and slipped the panties on, the excitement growing from the smoothness of the silk as it flowed across his skin. Lying down on the bed, blood pounding in his head from the possibility of being caught combined with the arousal in his peter, he ran his fingers lightly over material, feeling his erection.

He grabbed a tissue from the bedstand before he hit the point of no return and within moments felt the rush of semen in his shaft, the pulsing under his fingers and the hot glop of sperm onto the tissue. His sigh was as much from relief as it was from the inrush of guilt and shame. He jerked up at a sound from the hallway outside the door.

"Nice work, little brother. Very nice." She was clapping softly. 

He groaned in embarrassment. He felt a small spark of joy at her being there.

"You're a very naughty little boy, Chester. Very naughty. Do you do this every night I'm not here?" She advanced into the room.

He sat up, cleaning himself up with the tissue. He noted with relief the underwear were not stained. "No," he protested. "This was the first time."

"Ummm hmm. Come here, little brother. We need to have a chat."

He rolled off the bed, his penis still caught in the waistband, a drop of semen oozing out. He dabbed at it before throwing the soggy tissue into the trashcan.

"Tsk, tsk, Chester. You don't want Margaret finding that there. Go get it and come over here." He blushed at the disapproval and command in her voice.

Retrieving the mess from the trash, he returned to stand in front of her, his penis still peeking out, his humiliation at his situation blazing in his face.

"I think you enjoy jacking off for me, don't you Chester? I think you secretly wished to be caught. But you're taking quite a risk, don't you think? What if Daddy came home, or Margaret or any of the others came upstairs?" Her hand lightly stroked his shoulder. It was the first time she'd touched him since that first night and the effect sent a jolt through him. "Well?" Her question, as awful as it was hung in the space between them, demanding an answer.

"I...no...I don't think so...I don't know..." He could feel the tears coming on, the frustration of being shamed by her, the need to rush out of the room and bury himself in his covers, curled up in a ball.

"Here's the thing, Chester. I can't be here every night to help you relieve yourself or play your sick little games. If you want to get off with me watching you in your mother's underthings, I suggest you'll have to wait until it's convenient for me. Do you understand?"

How could she twist things around so much!? That's not the way it was! She made him do these terrible things! She was being unfair! "That's not fair, Yvette! I don't want to do these things! You are the one making me do it!"

She raised an eyebrow, nodding slightly toward the bed. "I made you dress up and jack off just now?"

He blushed deeper, tears brimming over. "No...but..."

"You'll not do this again without me, Chester. Do you understand? If you feel like jacking off in your mother's underwear, you'll wait until I am there and you'll do it for me, like you want to. Do you understand?" She had both hands on his shoulders, lightly massaging him. The movement sent a glow through his back.

"No..." He looked down, confused.

"'No,' you don't understand? Or 'No,' you don't agree?" Her fingers dug deeper into his muscles, sending the pleasure of pain down his spine.

"I don't understand. Why?" He closed his eyes, the feelings of her fingers relaxing him.

"Because I say so, Chester, and you're not in a position to argue. In fact, I'm not happy with the position you're in right now at all. In the future, when you want to cum in your mother's panties, you'll ask me, in the most polite way you can, naked as the day you were born, on your knees."

His head shot up to look at her. "You...you can't be serious!" He hissed, not wanting to anger her.

"In fact, let's practice that right now, so you can learn how serious I am." She let go of his shoulders and stood back, waiting.

He shook his head, afraid the humiliation rising in him would make him faint. He closed his eyes and slipped the panties off, relieved to let his penis hang free. Kneeling down, he looked up at her, tears falling from the corners of his eyes, his vision blurred. He could barely see her face but knew she was waiting.

"Please, Yvette..." he began, intending to beg her to not make him do this.

"Yes, cute buns?" 

He felt his resistance snap again and some sick need for her approval surged up his spine. "Please Yvette...I would like to cum..." he balked, not certain what to say.

She interrupted him, impatient. "Oh my god, Chester. Here. This is the script, since you can't seem to figure it out yourself. For such a smart boy, you sure act stupid sometimes."

He closed his eyes at the insult and waited, just wanting it to be over so he could go to bed and cry, alone.

"My dearest Yvette," she began, her voice pleading, "I am kneeling here before you to seek your permission to stroke myself in my mother's underwear, so that you can watch me cum for your pleasure. Can you say that?"

His mouth was dry as he attempted to repeat what she said. 

"Good enough. Now get out of here before someone catches you." She turned and walked out of the room.

After school every day, he would retreat to his room. She would appear randomly at his door, each time waiting for him to decide what to do. At times he screwed up the courage to ignore her, focusing instead on his homework, his heart pounding at the fear of her response. The first time he was shocked when she didn't push. At other times, he would get out of his chair, strip off his clothes and kneel in front of her, reciting the script. 

After a month, he had stopped thinking about it, hoping she would be there, looking forward to it all day, his penis hardening at the thought of kneeling in front of her begging to stroke himself. He began to think he might be falling in love. He didn't know what that was, but he knew he couldn't get her out of his mind, the need to be with her, to do what she asked.

He looked up to see her standing there as usual and nearly jumped out of his chair, removing his clothes and kneeling in front of her. He hadn't yet gotten used to being exposed to the hall – anyone coming up the stairs might see him, his penis hanging, his hand holding hers to his lips. He recited his script as loudly as he dared, scared someone would hear him.

"You are so sweet, little brother. Not tonight I'm afraid. I'm so tired."

She'd never acted this way before. He looked crushed.

"I've instructed Margaret to move all of your mother's clothes into your closet. As of tomorrow there'll be no need to scurry about in Daddy's room. You can play dress up right here. Won't that be perfect?" She yawned, not waiting for his response and walked away.

He lay awake that night wondering what Yvette's plan was, his nerves on edge.

When he came home the next day, he dropped his bag off in his room and stopped. His closet was open, revealing all of his mother's gowns, blouses, and slacks. Her shoes were arranged in their hanging shelves and her sweaters, shawls and over-things were neatly stacked. Alarmed, he opened his drawers to see her bras, underwear, and other lingerie. Except for the clothes on his back everything else of his had been removed.

He kept to his room as long as he could, working hard to concentrate on his homework. He heard a light knocking and looked up to see her standing there. He didn't move.

"I see Margaret has made the move. What do you think?"

"I...you...what am I supposed to wear, Yvette? To school? Out? You don't expect me to dress up like this...outside...do you?"

She laughed, the sound like icicles cracking. "Outside? Now why didn't I think of that?" She looked at him wickedly. "Of course not! That would be a scandal, now wouldn't it? Sweet, dear Chester. Not outside the house. No. But if you could do me the smallest favor..."

He felt his heart pounding in his chest, waiting to hear what would be the latest 'small favor' she had in store for him. 

"From now on, since you seem to get such a rise out wearing them, I would just love it if you would dress up around the house – breakfast, dinner – whenever you leave your room. You can do that for me, can't you?"

He shook his head, the heat rising along with his peter. The thought! What would the servants say? What would his father say? "Yvette! You can't be serious! How could I possibly live here – it's...shameful!" He whispered the last word, not daring to even think how awful it would be.

"You are such a dear, cute buns. Do you like me?"

The question came out of nowhere, confusing him. "Yes...but what...?"

"Of course you do. You would do anything for me, wouldn't you, sweet buns?"

He licked his lips, nodding. 

"How long has it been since you last masturbated for me, little brother?" 

Again he was caught off guard by her question. He paused trying to remember. "Maybe it was four nights ago?" 

"You must be pretty worked up, hmmm?" She entered the room and sat on the bed. 

He didn't know what to say. 

"Well, did you have a chance to look at any of the stuff? When you ran your hands over her underwear, did it give you a hard-on?" She asked it innocently enough, but he could tell there was something behind her words.

"No...not really. I just saw all my stuff gone and kinda freaked...a little." He hesitated, turning to stare at the drawer of underwear.

"Let's try something a little different tonight, Chester. Let's see how those stockings and garters work on you. You can use the undies to stroke yourself. Right here – in front of me. What do you say? Something a little different."




Making a Woman of Him Ch. 06



He shook his head, trying to imagine what she was leading up to. She just stared at him, waiting.

Getting up slowly, he opened the drawer to take out a pair of panties, a garter belt and a pair of stockings. Removing his only remaining clothes, he stood in front of her, not certain how to put them on.

"Slide the belt to your waist. Not too low. That's right. And now slip the stockings up and clip them to the suspenders. Perfect. Oh aren't you a sight?!" She leaned forward, her face barely inches from his waist. He could feel her breath on his peter. The thought some girls put penises in their mouths revolted him, even as he imagined her doing just that.

"You know the drill, Chester – let me see you stroke yourself, nice and slow with those lovely undergarments you've picked out."

He reached down and rubbed his peter, the silky fabric working its magic. With her face so close to him, he was forced to watch her looking at him, as he watched his erection grow. She backed away slightly as it poked out, resting her chin on her hands while he performed for her.

Just as he started to show signs of going over the top, she reached across the gap between them and cupped his balls in her hand. Gently squeezing them, she felt his sac, tight against his shaft, pulling them away in time with his own motion. 

"Noooo....god...no, what are you doing?" He stared down at her fingers, seeing them against his leg, his scrotum twisted and caught, and before he could think about it, he spurted, white blobs jumped in an arc...landing on her shirt and neck. 

"You little scoundrel," she shouted, half playfully with a sinister tone. She drew her hand back and pulled her blouse away from her, inspecting the damage. Looking back she watched as more of his cum dribbled down onto his fingers, the panties and the carpet. "Look what you've done, Chester! You've made a mess! And if you don't get this cleaned up immediately it will stain. You know better! Your cum stains!"

He was blushing, tears brimming over, humiliated beyond anything he'd felt before. She'd never touched him...there...and the echoes of the feeling pounded through him. Her fingers were so soft and warm. There was semen everywhere. He carefully dropped the panties, and quick as he could reached for tissue to wipe off his fingers. She just sat there, staring at him, his cock starting to sag to horizontal, the hole glistening and open. 

Her urge to suck on it was stronger now than it had been a few minutes before. Soon, she thought. Feeling the gel on her neck begin to liquefy, she pulled her blouse out further to prevent any more damage. He had reached over by then, a fresh tissue against her neck, scooping up the jism.

"Hold on, stupid." She quickly unbuttoned her blouse and pulled it away revealing her lace bra. "You better get it all, I don't want any on my bra. Oh...forget it." She dropped the blouse and reached back to unsnap the bra. "Just make sure there isn't any on my breasts."

With the exception of seeing his motherthis was the first time he'd seen breasts this close. It was nothing like in the movies or magazines he'd seen. He was frozen, his hand holding the tissue poised above them. He knew there wasn't any crème there, but she was challenging him to clean her up. He felt a strange jolt in his peter – it wasn't possible, was it? Could he get hard again this soon?

"Don't just stand there, idiot. Wipe them!" 

He moved his fingers down, the soft skin sloping out, resisting him but resilient. He'd never felt anything like it, the sensation going straight to his groin. His fingers traveled further, the skin getting crinkly until he touched her nipple. He didn't know what to expect – were they like his or different?

"Don't just rest there, rub them!" Her voice was insistent but not cruel.

He opened his hand and rubbed across her skin with the tissue, feeling the bump of her nipple on his palm. He moved to the other one, even though it wasn't anywhere near where his crème had landed.

"You'll get the hang of it, eventually, won't you Chester?" She watched his cock stop its descent as he put more pressure on her breasts. It was actually feeling pretty good, she thought. Maybe he would actually get the hang of it.

"I...you..." He didn't stop his hands, dropping the tissue to feel her skin directly. It was smooth, but not like silk, and warm, and something about it sent feelings to his groin. 

"Well," her voice caught briefly as his fingers moved to her nipples, "here's what I'm looking forward to, little brother: seeing you dressing up in your mother's clothes. Frankly, I'm surprised you haven't done it sooner. Don't stop. Don't stop until I say so!"

His eyes blurred, his emotions fighting inside – he was falling in love with her; she wasn't really his sister; she liked him, she liked what he was doing to her. He couldn't get enough of her nipples. They were so much larger than his, rough and smooth at the same time. He had been turning them gently, squeezing them, exploring them to see how they felt. His peter was starting to point up again; her latest demand seemed to make him harder. Maybe he was a pervert. Abnormal. He twisted her nipples a little harder to see what would happen.

"Ahhh! No...yes....do that some more. Yes, little brother, that was an unexpected pleasure. Ahhh...."

He watched her face change, the smile turning to a grimace, her eyes squeezing shut as he pulled harder at them. He wasn't certain whether he was hurting her; whatever it was, she seemed to like it more the harder he squeezed and turned. Her hands moved to her jeans, quickly unbuttoning them. He pulled and turned the flesh between his thumbs and fingers, watching them darken and swell.

She lifted herself off the bed and slid her jeans and underwear down below her knees, her hands flying to between her legs. Her eyes were closed as she moaned encouragingly to him. He could see the top of her bush, barely, her fingers slipping between her legs, rubbing furiously.

He let go, his hands moving across her breasts, his fingers curling beneath them, wanting to feel how heavy they were.

"Noooo! You little FUCKER!!! Don't stop. Don't you stop until I tell you to!!!"

He jumped at her voice, his fingers returning to her nipples and pulling harder, twisting to make the surrounding darker skin spiral. He felt awful. Guilty and confused. Her moans got louder as her hands moved more quickly between her legs, her thighs opening and closing.

"Yes. Yes. Harder...oh fuck yes, Chester, you little perv-fuck, pull on them. God damn! YES!" 

He knew she must be climaxing, but wasn't clear how it worked with girls. She slowed her hands a little and he got the feeling he should let up with his fingers. He released her nipples and looked around at the mess.

"Oh fuck, Chester. Fuck, fuck, fuck. What the fuck did you just do?" She looked at him accusingly and he blushed. 

He turned away, certain he had done something terrible, focusing on the mess on the carpet. He picked up the panties – they were stretched and stained, probably beyond repair. He looked at the drops of his cum sinking into the carpet and reached down, trying to absorb them with the material. The stockings a constant reminder he was under her spell. He looked over at her blouse, the little droplet had turned into a small dark circle.

"You better clean this up, Chester. I've got to go." She got up, pulling her jeans and panties all the way off, exposing herself to him as she walked out the door. He stared at her behind, the image of her vagina and pubis burned into his consciousness. 

She left the bedroom, shaking from the experience. She'd never felt anything quite like it, and had to leave before he saw the impact it had on her. She was three steps away when an idea struck her.

"Hey." 

He looked up to see her standing at the door, her clothes barely covering her.

"When you're done here, come downstairs. It's getting close to dinner and it's servants' night off, so it's just you and me."

He swallowed, unable to respond with anything other than a nod, and she was gone, the flash of her naked buttocks distracting him for several heartbeats.

* - * - * - *

He tossed and turned, awakened by a hand brushing his naked skin. He'd never slept with another person before, let alone two women. Naked. The memories of Yvette's humiliation rushed back to him. He needed to leave, but he didn't dare move. He stared at the ceiling, the images of his step-sister flooding his mind. How had he suppressed them? When did he stop recalling her cruelty?

His peter had stiffened again, and he could feel the blush in his cheeks. He had to get out of this bed! Turning sideways, he tried to calculate how much he had to stretch to get over June, the covers barely hiding her breasts. He pulled them back, lifting them over her, his eyes watching her chest rise and fall slowly, her pale skin barely visible from the hall light leaking under the door. Behind him, Corrine was snoring lightly, her back to him.

Before he could make his move, June turned her face to him and smiled, her hands reaching out to touch his face. 

"Shhh," she whispered. "It's okay. I know you need to go. You've never done this before." She reached up and kissed him lightly. "Come on."

She lightly left the bed and waited for him as he collected his kimono. Together they tip-toed out of the room, quickly opening and closing the door. The light made him squint, her white skin bright in the hallway. He was ashamed at his feelings for her, at the way he wanted to stare at her buttocks, the smooth skin down her legs. He could still taste her, the aroma making him want to devour her. He shook his head, the memory of Yvette momentarily rising up.

"Come on." She entered his room. 

He followed, the darkness blinding him. She closed the door trailing her fingers down his back.

"You liked it, right?" She was close to him, the tips of her breasts just brushing against his back.

"Whaa...?" He wasn't following, distracted by her skin pushing against him. 

Her hands came around to feel his chest, her fingers brushing his nipples.

"June....please. What..."

"Shhh...just let it go, yeah? You liked eating me. Earlier. Tell me." Her hands continued to brush down his stomach.

"It...I...you tasted...amazing." He didn't know what to say. All he could think about was Yvette and the terrible things she had done to him, and the incredible feeling he had with his mouth on June's vagina. 

"I thought so. I'm so glad. You were so gentle, Chester. So gentle and so...hungry." Her fingers had reached his cock and began stroking it. "I felt a little...selfish." She reached her lips to his ear and softly nibbled his lobe.

He'd never felt anything like it. The combination of her naked body against his backside, her hands softly stroking him and her lips on his ear...he moaned, dropping the kimono and giving into her.

"But...I can't help it," she held him still. "I was lying there, not sleeping. All I could think of was your mouth, your tongue buried deep in my pussy. I need to feel it again, Chester. I...is that too much to ask? Am I being selfish?"

His heart jumped. Again? To have her vagina on his mouth again, to taste it, to suck on it? He wanted to give into her right away, to have her lay him down and slowly sink onto his face again. But he was worried about tomorrow. He had a full load of classes. He needed to sleep! And his vital juices – it was too much. He knew he would be exhausted.

"What's wrong? You didn't like it?"

"No...no, that's not it! I...loved it, June. I loved the way you taste. You're so clean. I didn't want it to stop...it's just...it's..."

"What Chester? Do you want me to suck you? Is that it? I am being selfish." She let him go and came around to face him. 

His eyes had adjusted to the dark; he could see her outline against the window, imagining her small breasts and her smooth pudenda. She pushed herself against him, his peter rubbing between her legs.

"Or...do you...do you want to...fuck me?" She looked up at him, her expression lost in the dim light. "If that's what you want, Chester, I would...I would let you." She wrapped her arms around him, her hands drifting down to his buns.

He looked into her eyes, confused. Why would she be doing this? Was she mocking him? Echoes of Yvette crashed against his head – how she tormented him. His arousal began to seep down to his feet, his peter following it down.

She sensed something had changed and looked down. "I've said something wrong, haven't I. Shit!" She pushed back a little to look at him, but couldn't tell in the dark.

"No, June. You...it's just that everything is happening...I haven't slept...couldn't sleep well...bad dreams, and earlier...earlier...I, it...you tasted so good. I want to do it again. I do., but I...have classes tomorrow and I'm going to be worthless...." His hands fluttered a little.

"You do? You want to do it again? Could you? Would you? Right now? I won't stay long. I know it's late and you have to sleep...but...Chester...I'm so worked up. I'll be lying awake for hours, thinking about that beautiful tongue of yours...could you?"

He looked into her eyes and couldn't resist, nodding slowly. Before he knew it, she had led him to his bed and she laid down across it the short way; spreading her legs, her pussy split open at the edge of the mattress, she drew his face down. "Like you did it when I was sitting, Chester. I think you can get in deeper this way."

He knelt down, her aroma wafting up to him, sending a charge through his bloodstream. She drew his face into her, adjusting his mouth against her warm lips, their juices already seeping out. 

"Remember, sweetheart, don't get close to my clit yet. Just shove that tongue as deep into me as you can."

He swallowed at her mentioning 'sweetheart.' Was he her sweetheart? When did that happen? Before he could think about it, her musk overwhelmed his senses and he separated her lips with his tongue, reaching inside her to eat her. The need to consume her overtook him and once again he slurped and sucked, and shoved his tongue as deep into her as he could. He felt her responding, her juices flowed, her pelvis pushed against him, her hands held his head tight against her. He could hear her moaning and gasping over the noises he was making.

It felt like no time had passed, except his jaw and tongue were getting tired. He had pushed his hands under her back to help him drag her against him, and then she froze. He didn't know what to do, whether to keep going or stop.

"No, no, no no...don't stop...suck me, suck me suck me, Chester!" She was practically screaming, her hands pushing his head against her.

He lifted his mouth slightly to take more of her outer lips in and found her button. Briefly running his tongue over it, she screamed and held his head tighter. He couldn't move, his tongue pressed against her wet flesh, her juices coating his chin. And then she bucked, forcing his mouth down again, his nose pushed against the top of her vagina, his tongue lapping at her lips. He felt an explosion of liquid come from her into his mouth and he almost choked. It was delicious, like nothing he'd ever tasted before and he sucked it in, disgusted at the same time as he was powerless to stop it. She seemed to spasm, over and over again, with each jerk, more liquid flowed out of her until she rested. 

He kept his mouth pressed against her, feeling her blood pounding, her breathing moving the bed, until she quieted and relaxed her hands.

"Thank you Chester." He could barely hear her. "Thank you, thank you, thank you..."

He was embarrassed and...victorious? He couldn't understand his feelings. He was weak, exhaustion filling in where exhilaration was leaving.

"Come on, Chester. It's time to put you to bed."

He let her bring him into his bed, pulling back the covers and tucking him in.

"I can't thank you enough, Chester. Really. I'll make it up to you. Tomorrow. But now, you need to sleep." She reached down and kissed him, sliding her tongue into his mouth. He felt somehow reversed, as if his mouth was a vagina. He sucked on her tongue in ways a vagina never could and she pulled it out, giggling. "Good night, Chester!"



Making a Woman of Him Ch. 07



In spite of his exhaustion, he couldn't push the memory of Yvette from his mind. That first night he had seen her naked, how she had forced him to touch her breasts, how she had handled him. He knew there was more and as much as he wanted to push it away, the memory came tearing back into his consciousness.

He made his way downstairs, his room and her clothes as clean as he could muster. He hoped he hadn't ruined her blouse. The carpet he was less concerned about. He held the panties in a ball, intending to throw them in the garbage where no one would be apt to find them.

She wasn't in the kitchen when he got there. Not knowing what she wanted for dinner, and not having much experience in the way of cooking, he set the table at the bar for two. As he was putting down the water glasses, she walked in.

"No, no, no, Chester. That won't do at all. Those look just awful!"

He looked at the place settings, confused. He didn't think it was going to be a formal night...

She giggled. "Not the plates, idiot. Those horrific sweat pants and shirt. Take them off -- they're offensive."

He looked at her to make sure she was serious, and looked around to see who might come home. It was only 5:30, the servants wouldn't be back til the morning, and who knew when his father might appear. Maybe never. The entire side of the house was glass, but it faced a private arboretum -- there were no neighbors on this side. As long as she didn't make him go outside, the thought ran a shiver through him, he wouldn't be exposed.

"C'mon. Please, Chester. They're really awful! Where did you get them?"

He shrugged, not wanting to set her off, and peeled the sweat shirt over his head. He could feel his peter jiggling -- he hadn't bothered to put on any underwear -- and the thought he would be naked in the kitchen sent one of the odd pulses through his groin. Slipping off the pants, he folded them and set them on a chair.

"What's for dinner?" He looked at her in the light and gasped a little. She had put on sheer cotton pajamas, her breasts, particularly her nipples and the dark area around them, clearly visible, as was the dark triangle of hair at the top of her legs. "You look hungry enough you could eat me," she said in a way that left him wondering if she meant something else.

"I...I don't cook...that much. On nights like this there's usually some casserole or something we can microwave." He walked to the side-by-side and opened it. He could sense her coming up behind him, but he jumped when her fingers touched the small of his back.

"You're a little high-strung, Chester. Just relax a little. Just the two of us. Hanging." Her hand came around his waist and cupped his balls and cock. "At least, you're hanging. So far."

He froze, waiting for her to let him go. "Uhhh...I don't know what else you might want." 

She giggled, pulling a dish from the refrigerator. "It looks like there's some vegetables in the drawer. Grab 'em and I'll show you how to cook a little."

He did as she directed, awkwardly peeling carrots, slicing a cabbage. She seemed to know her way around the kitchen -- a difference between their upbringings. 

Sitting across from her at the peninsula, his discomfort at being the only one without any clothes on returned. "Would you mind...?" He nodded to his sweat pants.

She ignored him, or pretended not to understand. "Hey! I've got some friends coming over a little later. I want you to help me."

He turned pink at the images that came into his head. "What, exactly, do you mean 'help?'" He asked softly.

"It's not much, actually. One of them is an aspiring fashion designer -- she's trying to get a line ready and she needs some input. I thought you could offer an opinion or two."

He chewed slowly, watching her, knowing there was more to it than that. "My opinion? On fashion?"

"Women's lingerie," she grinned, her eyes glistening coldly. "You'll be modeling."

He almost choked, his face beet red. "No. You can't. I won't. Yvette...you can't make me..."

"You're right. It's probably too much to ask. But I just thought...well...never mind."

He saw the scheming behind the mask of her face and couldn't avoid the bait. "What. What...were you 'thinking?'"

"It's just that, I'm pretty certain your school chums would be more than interested in your nighttime habits...with your sister, no less."

"You wouldn't! You can't! Yvette...this...you..." He had lost his appetite, his stomach cramping.

"Whatever. I thought you might want to help. They'll be here in an hour -- should we just leave the dishes for the help?" As she got up, he thought he noticed her pajama bottoms sticking slightly between her legs, and as she turned, he saw they had ridden up between her cheeks. His face was burning, embarrassed by what he had seen and frightened by what he knew she was going to make him do.

That he would agree was never an issue. She knew it, she knew he knew it, and she knew he knew she knew it. She just liked to play -- like a cat with a mouse. It aroused her to no end to toy with him. He would parade around in Lyssa's designs all night. It would pass the time.

He heard the doorbell ring from his room. He had hoped to get dressed, but didn't know what to wear -- he couldn't find any of his clothes. He threw on one of his mother's robes. As the sounds of young women's laughter and voices echoed from the front hall, he felt another jolt in his peter. "You can't possibly be getting an erection from this!" He hissed to himself.

Trying, and failing miserably, to concentrate on his History, it was a mixture of anxiety and relief when Yvette knocked on the door. 

"Chester? I'd like you to meet a couple of my friends -- Lyssa and Hannah. Girls? My step-brother, Chester."

He turned, smiling weakly at them, exchanging polite hellos.

"Chester? Would you like to join us downstairs?" It wasn't a question and he knew it.

He set aside his book and tried to control the shivering. They had left, his sister still in her transparent pajamas, Lyssa -- a dark haired, pierced Goth, and Hannah looking stoned or just stupid. Standing up seemed to help, his upper body vibrating, his peter sending weird signals. He wiped his face, his hands massaging the muscles trying to reduce his tension.

He padded down the carpeted stairs, barefoot. He could hear them in the living room, and he tensed at the idea he would be stripped naked not only in front of his sister, not only in front of her friends, but possibly to the driveway and street beyond. With each thought, his peter pulsed a little and his face turned a deeper red.

"Oh...there he is. Isn't he just so cute when he blushes?" She motioned for him to take a chair in front of them. They were reviewing a sketchbook on the coffee table. He noted, relieved, the curtains were drawn. His self-consciousness returned as he tried to sit without exposing himself, the robe riding up his legs.

"So...Lyssa was just going over her designs -- they look pretty amazing. What do you think?"

He didn't know anything about women's lingerie. He just liked stroking his mother's when he masturbated he kept reminding himself, wanting to shout at her sister but knowing it would only make it all worse. That was the last thing he should be saying right now! 

"Chester? What do you think?"

The three of them were staring at him now, their gazes shifting from the pink robe to his face, as if they were expecting him to get hard. He shook his head silently, pleading with her to not go through with whatever she had in mind.

"Sometimes it's hard to imagine a design from the sketches, Lyssa, you know?" She smiled at him, sounding as if she was the kindest, most endearing sister a boy could want. "Maybe it would help to see the prototypes?"

For whatever reason, this last question sparked some interest in Hannah, who until then looked as if she had been about to fall asleep. She reached over and grabbed a large duffel, putting it on the table as Lyssa gathered up her sketchbook.

"Let's see," Lyssa said, unzipping the luggage. "I've got an entire ensemble here I think is really cool." She pulled out a plastic bag filled with a gauzy pink material. 

He stared, dumbstruck, as she laid out an entire outfit -- panties, stockings, garter and a teddy -- all baby pink and all silk. He licked his lips before he could stop himself, and felt his peter moving.

"Do you think they'll fit?" Yvette's question hung in the air, the implication she had discussed the plan with the two others now obvious, and he blushed. "What do you think, Chester? Do you like these?" She motioned for him to get closer, touch them and pressed him for an answer.

"They're...I...they're really nice." He could barely speak, his tone as non-committal as possible.

"You see?" She turned to the two women. "I thought he'd like them. Go ahead, little brother, let's see them on."

He looked up to see all three staring at him, Yvette cruelly, Hannah with mild interest, and Lyssa with the stare of a scientist -- as if he were some exotic species she'd never encountered before.

"Please...Yvette...no...This isn't right..." His fingers belied his protests, drifting across the material.

"Now, now, Chester. I don't think that's very gentlemanly of you. Especially after I promised my friends you'd help. Up. Up! Let's see how these work. If they fit, Lyssa has a couple of other things to try on too, right?

He shook his head, looking at Lyssa's eyes. She was smiling softly, encouraging him to try.

As if in a dream, he stood up, his fingers untying the belt, letting the robe slip open. He knew he wasn't the most muscular boy, but he'd never given it much thought before his sister had forced him to bare himself. He could feel his peter getting larger and blushed again, knowing his body was conspiring against him. 

He looked down. He couldn't stand to see their faces staring at him, looking at his peter when it got so hard. He just wished it would behave itself and not give itself away. He peeled off the robe completely, his penis at half mast.

"Oh shit," Lyssa gasped, looking over at Yvette. "They're not going to fit right at all."

"Well, he should at least try them on so you can get the right measurements, yeah?"

Lyssa nodded, staring. Hannah reached into the duffel for a tailor's tape and they watched as he pulled the pink panties onto his legs, and up as high as he could. They easily went over his thighs -- they were high cut and the elastic waistband stretched tightly around his hips. The crotch though was far too flat -- it mounded out, his penis folded over.

They stared at him, waiting. He pulled up the garter, and then the stockings, snapping them in place. They were too long and bunched a little at the knees. As he was about to reach for the teddy, his eyes brimming with tears at the way they were staring at him, his sister held up a hand.

"Hold on. This looks awful, doesn't it?"

Hannah was on her feet, her hands winding the tape around his waist. "32." She moved it down to his hips, across his bulge. "35...no better make that 36" She saw his cock pulse as she ran her fingers across it. Dropping to her knees, she took his inseam, "30," pushing his balls aside with her knuckles "dresses left," and before standing back up, stared at his cock. He didn't know what she was planning, it looked like she was going to kiss it. For the second time that night, he was sickened at the thought of a girl putting his peter in her mouth. Nobody would want to get that dirty!

"Hannah! You're such a ho. Get back, girl."

"I can get those stockings to work, but the panties...They're completely wrong." Lyssa was up now, kneeling down to tuck the tops of the stockings into the clips, tightening them to take up the slack. "But this hair...it's disgusting. It completely ruins the look." She waved her hands all around his body, from his legs up to his chest.

He heard Yvette laughing through the drumming in his ears. No. They wouldn't. They couldn't. He'd run away. He'd...he didn't have anywhere to go. Yvette would be on Facebook in a flash; the whole school would know. But...but they'd know on Monday, anyway, when he went to the gym, completely shaved. He felt hot tears dripping down his cheeks.

"Whoa, there," Lyssa stepped back, the drops landing on her neck. "You'll stain the merchandise."

"There's nothing to be done, Chester. You heard the designer -- doesn't work with your hair. We're going to have to clean you up. I think I have just the stuff for it. Get out of those things before you ruin them, and we'll head upstairs to the bathroom."

He carefully removed the garments, worried he would rip them, handing them to Lyssa, his eyes unable to meet hers. Stripped bare, he let Yvette lead him up the stairs, his eyes red and burning from the shame.

"No, little brother. Let's use Mom and Dad's." She directed him the other way at the top of the stairs -- away from his bathroom to the master suite. He'd only used it once before, that he could remember -- years ago when his dad made them shower together. He dimly remembered the embarrassment of that day -- seeing his dad's penis, huge and hanging, his body hairy and looking so...dirty. 

He followed Yvette into the bedroom, the reflection of his naked body in the full length mirrors reminding him of how little control he had. He could hear the other two coming up the stairs, arguing about something.

She flipped on the lights in the bathroom, the whole room lit up with a pink glow. It was a temple of marble, larger than his entire bedroom. At the far end, a glass enclosed shower big enough for all of them, the two side walls covered in water jets. The far wall of the shower, glass from end to end, looked out onto a private garden; he had spent a lot of time in that garden, the memories of his mother's silhouette making his heart jump. 

"I...I have to use the bathroom," he said quietly, hoping to buy time, hoping Yvette would somehow change her mind.

"Go ahead. I've got to get something from my room. I'll be right back."

The toilet was separated from the main bathroom; he closed the door behind him and sat, eliminating as best he could, knowing the two girls were just on the other side. He couldn't prevent the splashing as he urinated or the noise as his gas exited. He sniffled and cried silently, struggling to find a way out of the situation.

"Chester? Are you almost done? We want to get started, little brother?" She opened the door, revealing him sitting, his face teary. 

"Just leave me alone...for a few minutes, can't you?" 

"Now stop that, Chester and get yourself cleaned up. C'mon!"

He pulled the tissue from the roll, trying to ignore them as they stared. He wiped himself and got up, flushed the toilet and went to wash his hands, more ashamed and humiliated than he'd ever been in his life.

Lyssa had set herself up at his mother's vanity, her duffel on the floor, the pink underwear on her lap. "I think I've got an idea, Yvette. When I saw how Chester filled out the main panel, I realized what I've got to do. Chester -- I can't tell you how much you've helped me."

Yvette motioned him over to the bathtub where she'd perched herself, her legs slightly open, the dark triangle and deeper crease at the top of her thighs catching his eye. Hannah was standing next to her, not appearing to do much of anything. The fear of losing all of his hair, of being the laughingstock at school started another round of shivers. His teeth began to chatter.

"Chester! Are you cold? Hannah -- turn on the heat lamps -- over there."

The room grew a deeper shade of pink. He looked down, his skin looked like it did after a sunburn peeled -- pink and fresh. He didn't have much hair on his chest, and in moments he'd have even less. His gaze traveled down to the wisps around his peter -- also not much compared to what he'd seen other boys had in the locker room. And his legs, why were they being so mean? He felt his eyes filling with tears again, hoping to stop the flow by shutting them.

"Chester, my brother," she was talking softly, but all he heard was menace in her voice. "This is very expensive stuff. You won't have to use much. Just take some on your fingertips and spread it all over."

She held open a wide-mouthed jar half-filled with a white crème. The smell was acrid and floral. He scrunched his nose as he scooped some onto his fingers and began to spread it on his chest.

"Hannah -- can you come help me here?"

He felt the air movement as she stood close to him. He couldn't look at her doing what he was doing. He scooped more, wiping the crème across his breastbone.

"Don't forget under your arms, Chester. Definitely don't want any hair there."

The smell coming off his chest was awful -- like burning hair and orchids. He scooped some more, applying it under one arm. He'd always thought his hair was densest there, relatively speaking, but he knew it was thin and wispy. As he applied the crème to his other arm, he jumped. Yvette had spread it on his pubic bone, her fingers coming down and around his balls and sac. At the same time, Hannah was rubbing it in the small of his back and down his buttocks.

"I'm not going to do that!" He heard her protest. He could barely breathe, the smell of the crème as it melted his hair away was overpowering.

"Chester will help, won't you, dearest?" He looked down. She had stopped applying the crème to his privates, motioning he should spread his cheeks open. 

"What?" He could barely say the word. Her expression left him no choice. Reaching down, he opened his cheeks and felt Hannah spreading the crème down his crack. At the same time, Yvette had run her hand along the underside of his pelvis and he felt their two fingers meet. 

Suddenly, a white glow began in his hole, getting hotter with each heartbeat until it was burning. He jerked, and felt Yvette's hand slap onto his shaft. Another stab of pain began to grow where he'd felt her fingers touch him there. 

"Ouch! Shit! Shit, what's in this stuff? Ouch! Yvette! It's hurting!"

The two women moved back as he started jumping from foot to foot. "Get into the shower, Chester! Right now."

He moved quickly, turning the knobs as he entered. The blast of cold water on his shoulders and head shocked him, forcing an intake of breath. The vapors jumped into his lungs, burning him. He coughed and spluttered, the water now running hot. He felt hands turning him, spraying water on him, his eyes closed from the spray and pain. The smell began to subside along with the heat. He could still feel the stinging in his butt hole and along his penis and scrotum.

"You are two twisted kids," Lyssa commented.

Yvette was in the shower with him, her pajamas practically invisible now from the jets spraying. Her body, this close to him, not as naked as his, but even more revealing in some way, caused a new reaction. He felt another erection starting and moaned. 

"Okay, Chester. Time for your legs." She turned off the spray and reached for the jar. Quickly she ran the crème down his front and back. He could almost feel the hair coming off before she'd finished one side. "Last rinse and we're done." Again the water and he opened his eyes to see his skin completely clear of hair. He cried.

"Shit, Chester. Be a man, for chrissake. Grow up." 

He thought it kind of odd she was telling him to be a man, when she'd just removed what little bit of manhood he had. She might as well have had him cut his peter off. He sniffled, trying not to be so childish in front of these three women, but he was losing the battle.

She stripped off her pajamas, leaving them on the shower floor and grabbed two towels. He dried himself off and waited, watching her now, standing in the bright pink room as naked as him, but with one major difference: he was completely shaved from chin to toes. He noticed tufts of hair under her arm, and looking closely, hair on her legs. It wasn't fair!




Making a Woman of Him Ch. 07



"You look...beautiful, Chester. So much more beautiful this way. Don't you think, Hannah?" He got the sense the two of them were more than friends. The thought left him a little confused. Looking at Lyssa, he saw she had done something with the panties -- cut them open and added a new panel in front. "They won't look like much, but I think I have solved the problem that's been plaguing me. Can you try them on?"

He took the underwear and bent to slip them on, blushing again at the image he saw reflected back at him: he was almost a little boy again, trying on his mother's panties, his skin smooth and pink. The feeling of the silk against his hairless legs brought back the memories of when he first discovered his love of the material. Against his conscious mind, his penis began to harden, rising up to midlevel as he pulled the panties over it.

"Oooohhh, would you look at that?" 

He stared at the figure in the mirror -- his penis was lifted up, the head pointing at his waist as if it were completely erect, even though it wasn't. They weren't nearly as tight -- the new panel Lyssa had put in provided a lot more room. He closed his eyes as the feeling of the silk across the underside of his shaft hit him. 

"I think he likes these, Lyssa. I think he likes these a lot." Yvette had sat back down on the tub, the towel draped across her shoulders, her legs open. When he looked in the mirror again, he could see her sex in the reflection, a pink glistening beneath the dark thatch of hair. He swallowed, the jolts running up his spine from the silk against his peter confusing him. He saw Hannah staring, not at him, but at Yvette, between her legs.

"Sure, Hannah. Be my guest. You wouldn't mind, would you Lyssa?"

Hannah didn't wait for an answer, dropping to her knees and spreading Yvette's legs open with her hands. He watched in the mirror as Hannah moved her face deep into Yvette's thighs and he suddenly realized, she was going to put her lips on Yvette's vagina. The thought anyone would do such a thing was so awful, so incomprehensible to him, he forgot to breathe. A stinging slap on his buttocks brought him back.

"Chester! Turn around when I talk to you!" 

He looked at her head on, Hannah's face and mouth making slurping sounds, Yvette's face a mixture of joy and...it looked like pain to him. Her hand brought his to the panties, rubbing his fingers across his peter. 

"Show them what you like to do with silk, Chester. That's what they've come for."

He tried to pull his hand away, shocked and hurt she'd exposed him, but she held his hand firmly against his shaft, rubbing it harder, moving the silk across his skin. He closed his eyes and kept up the motion after he felt her hand slip away. He was lost in the feeling, the memory of his mother, the rush of electricity in his groin. He could feel his ejaculation starting when Lyssa batted his hand away.

"Not on those, Chester. Not on those. I need those." His eyes sprang open at the sensation of the panties being peeled off of him. She was on her knees, next to Hannah, but facing him, pulling them off and down. "You can use this, if you want." He felt her place a swatch of fabric in his hand and then back away.

His peter was fully erect now and he knew what was coming was inevitable. The silk was so smooth and felt so clean against his skin. He closed his eyes and stroked until the milk bubbled up and shot out.

"Oh that was just precious! Marvelous! Do it again! Yes, oh that's just fantastic!"

Yvette held Hannah's head tight against her, watching as Chester's jism flew across the gap between them, landing on her back. The kneeling girl knew what was happening but was trapped, or didn't really want to stop, in spite of her faint struggles. 

And as the feelings of guilt and shame washed over him, he heard Yvette gasp and moan, like he'd heard her earlier in the evening, until she vibrated, holding Hannah tight against her.



Making a Woman of Him Ch. 08



Monday. He woke to the light streaming into his room, panicked he might have overslept.

He struggled to see his clock, his heart hammering at the thought he might have missed his morning classes. 6:00. He lay back, staring at the ceiling, letting his pulse slow, puzzled at the soreness of his jaw until the memory of June came back in full force.

He could feel a tenderness in his peter -- a pain he'd not felt before. As he peeled back the covers he looked down to see if it was bruised. Sitting up, pulling his legs apart to get as good a look as he could, he pulled up the head to see under the shaft. As he pulled, he gave a little squeeze, noting the pain subsided. He sat for a moment, massaging it, hoping he could ease his discomfort.

"You should close your door, if you're going to abuse yourself, Chester!"

He looked up embarrassed and confused. It was Roxie. "I, uh..." he quickly let go of himself and looked around for his kimono.

"It's okay. I know guys do that. Besides, I've already helped you before. It's no biggee." She was leaning against the door, her robe tied loosely. "I'm heading to the showers to get ready. You?"

He stood up, his peter sticking out a little from all the attention he'd paid it. He could feel the blush.

"God, you're so cute when you do that!" She put her hand to her mouth. "C'mon. You don't have to get dressed just to get undressed for a shower."

He started to join her, when she held up her hand and walked into the room, shutting the door behind her.

"Wait a minute. The other night...when I jacked you off...that wasn't the first time, was it?" She came right up to him, her hand on his chest. "I can't get over how smooth your skin is."

He stood still, not sure what to do, looking at the clock, relieved he still had plenty of time to get ready. She had moved both of her hands flat on his chest, rubbing down until her fingers touched his peter.

"Was it?" She looked at his face, her fingers lightly touching his peter.

He could feel it begin to swell and moaned a little. It wasn't fair! He needed to save his precious fluids! But that glow began right between his legs and he knew it would only get stronger if he'd let her continue. He shook his head -- as much to answer her question as to protest her fondling.

"It must be hard to be around so many girls, right?" Her fingers had closed around his shaft and she squeezed him gently, pulsing into him, the soreness going away every time she squeezed.

He nodded, looking at her, not really understanding her expression. He was missing something. His peter was stiffening now, and he couldn't help it. His hands came up to rest on her shoulders -- he didn't know where else to put them.

"Did you like what you saw the other night? In the bathroom? When we were naked?" She stared at him, eyes wide, while her fingers kept up their work on his cock. "Just slip my robe off with your hands. I'd like to be as nude as you."

He shook his head, conflicted. He had to get ready. June had just been sleeping with him. Yvette, what would Yvette say? He tried to shake the thought out of his head -- Yvette? She wasn't anywhere around to make trouble. Before he could move his hands to comply, Roxie undid her belt and shimmied the robe onto the floor.

His cock was sticking straight out, poking into her. She giggled and looked down. He looked down to see her red bush peeking out below his peter, her pink breasts pale with dark nipples.

"Have you...has a girl ever sucked on your cock, Chester? Given you head?"

He thought back to Corrine the night before, the memory jolting his stomach at the thought she'd taken his ejaculate into her mouth...and swallowed it! He didn't recognize the expression Roxie had used, but realized it what it meant. He licked his lips and nodded slightly.

"Would you like it if I did it to you? I've been thinking about taking that monster into my mouth ever since I saw it on Friday. You'd like that, right?"

Before he could stop her, she had slipped down to her knees and held his peter up to her lips, kissing its head and then down the shaft. Turning her head sideways, she kissed his balls, slowly taking them into her mouth and sucking on them. He felt them bunch up as her tongue rubbed along his sac, her lips pinching them away from the base of the shaft. His hands fell down to her hair, resting on her head.

As she moved her mouth back up to his head, her movements transmitted through his hands, so he could feel her in two places at once: on his peter with her lips, and on his hands with the back of her head. It was surreal, connecting the two parts of his body through her head. She leaned back and opened her lips, moving them over him, just like Corrine had done the night before, only different, he realized. Her mouth was different. And then she did something very different from what Corrine had done. Somehow she swallowed his peter into her throat, his head pushing against the smooth wet skin, her tongue sliding along his entire length.

Her hands pushed against his butt, holding him against her mouth. She wanted to take him all in, but he was too big for her. She held him as deeply in her throat as she could, controlling the cramps in her stomach and her need to gag. She could feel him expanding and hoped he would cum, his balls contracting up against her chin. Moving her tongue as best she could, she slowly slid him out and slid him back in again. Back and forth, torturously slowly, each time forcing herself not to gag. She loved that part, where his cock pushed against her limits and then went past them, until he was deep into her. She wished she could play with herself, but she needed her hands to control him, to keep him inside her.

The sensation of being inside her throat disgusted him. How could she do this? How could she want to have his peter inside her like that? At the same time, the humiliation she must be feeling excited him, just as he had been feeling when Yvette forced him to put his mouth on her vagina. The memory crashed into his consciousness at the same time the pleasure burst up from his insides. He erupted into her throat, forcing her to gag and grunt. He tried to pull out, but she held him as tight as she could, as if she wanted to drink whatever he was shooting into her. He stood stock still, confused by the images in his head and the sight of Roxie choking on his peter.

She pulled away from him eventually, sucking her lips and cheeks around him, not letting any of his cum escape. Smoothly, gently so that he wouldn't jerk away, she slipped her lips off of him and rocked back on her heels. Looking down at her, he saw her bright red bush framing her vagina, her inner lips deep crimson. Her eyes looked up at him, a satisfied smile on her face.

"Was that nice, Chester?" She rocked back up, her hands sliding up his back for balance.

He didn't answer, the images swirling in his head confusing him.

"When a girl deep throats you like that, Chester," she said admonishingly, "the polite thing to say is 'Yes.'" She gave him a mock look of disapproval. "Most guys think I'm pretty good at it, you know."

He swallowed and smiled a little. "Thank you?" He offered quietly. He realized his hands had come to rest on the top of her buttocks, her skin smooth and silky. The images of his mother's silk underwear appeared unasked for in his brain.

"Hmmm...you need a little work on your social skills, sweetie. But I'd do it again, anytime you want. You have a beaoootiful cock. Beaooootiful." She reached down to grab her robe and gave his butt a pat. "C'mon. We both gotta get ready. It's getting late." 



Making a Woman of Him Ch. 09



It took until about mid-day before he finally felt like his normal self. He'd been in a fog all morning, the pain from all of the attention to his peter distracting him. He knew he wasn't quite sharp when he failed to answer the questions posed by Professor James in History, something he should have, did! know but wasn't quick enough to respond.

Sitting in the cafeteria, getting ready for his next class he suddenly realized he hadn't brought all of the materials he needed for the following day's debate. His first thought was to just go back to his room at the men's house and pick it up, but the deal he'd struck with the two houses was he wouldn't return before the week was up.

It wasn't like him to cheat on a deal, but this was crazy. If he didn't have his notes, he'd let his team down. His mind raced through the possibilities, sneak in through the back door and up the back stairs -- he'd have to pass by John's room, he'd be screwed. Monday. First Monday! First Monday night almost no one would be at the house -- what was it this month...a movie. That was it. They'd be at the movie house. He gathered his books, dropped the tray on the conveyor and left for class, relieved he had pulled himself together.

It was after dark when he approached the house, concerned he'd be seen in spite of it being empty. Still, he chose to go in through the back door and up the back stairs. If anyone was home, they'd likely be in their rooms, or in the front room. Carefully opening the door and closing it behind him, he softly moved through the darkened kitchen. Stopping at the bottom of the service stairs he listened for any sounds of televisions or conversation. Hearing nothing, he moved quickly up to the first landing, stopping again to listen.

His heart pounded at the sound of something, a noise from upstairs. He calmed his breathing and listened. Something, but he couldn't tell what. Someone was home, that was certain. He waited, debating what to do: it was likely nobody who cared about his deal, but if it was, he'd be in a lot of trouble. It was likely they wouldn't even know he was there -- he'd just keep going to his room and quietly leave again.

Still scared, he continued more slowly up the next set of stairs to the 2nd floor landing. The sounds were louder now -- voices and...a woman's cry! He froze, staring down the hallway from the open doorway, listening -- a slant of light coming from a room down the way. There it was again! A cry for help! Sobbing! Chester moved quickly toward the sound, keeping as quiet as possible, until he could tell which room it was coming from. John's!

"No! Please! I'm sorry. Yes! I'll do better! I will. I will. Please. Just...noooooohhhh...OHHH!"

And then a slap! They were hitting her! Shaken, he didn't know which way to go -- to just leave, get his things and run, or see if he could intervene. He couldn't live with himself if he left her -- he had to see what was going on. As softly as he could, he peeked through the opening in the door. He didn't know what to expect, but the scene in the room was beyond anything he could have imagined.

John and Millard were smoking! Smoking in the house! It was one of the rules they could get expelled for! He took a whiff and realized they weren't smoking cigarettes! Pot! They were smoking pot! Before he could completely comprehend the idea, his eyes locked onto a young woman, her back to him, dressed only in her bra and panties (he noted their design immediately, and unconsciously registered she was well brought up, conservative, and uninventive). As he took another look, he gasped. Her hands were tied above her head, held there by ropes attached to two hooks in the ceiling. Her legs were spread behind her, and she was leaning at an angle away from him.

Millard looked up at the noise and before Chester could get away, he grabbed him by the shoulder. "Hey, John, lookee here! It's our friend Chester! Chester, you faggot. What are you doing in the house?" Millard dragged him in.

"No!" The woman gasped, trying to look away. "No."

John looked to her and then to Chester, smiling grimly. "Well, well. Isn't this an unpleasant surprise. Have a seat, Chester. We'll deal with you in a moment."

He slumped into a chair near the door and waited, looking up at the woman. Something about her, her voice, her build. He knew her. Who was it?

"So, Catherine, one of your girlfriends is here. Shall we have a little party?"

Catherine! But...what? What was she doing here? And like this?

"He looks a little surprised. Any reason he should be surprised to see you like this? Don't you share your secrets with all the girls?" John moved behind her, raised his hand and slapped her ass cheeks, the sound echoing in the room with her cry of pain. "We asked you to do us a small favor. We told you what the consequences would be if you disobeyed us, and now, it appears you've decided to test our will. Is that it?"

"No," she gasped between sobs. "No. I told you what I had heard. I had no idea Roxie was seeing someone else. I swear it!"

Chester panicked at the implications, his heart racing.

"But," Millard said menacingly, "but you knew something was up. You said it yourself." He moved over to her and unsnapped her bra, letting her breasts swing down. He pulled the straps and cups up over her head out of the way.

Chester saw now that she was stretched across the edge of a table at about 60 degrees. From where he was, he could just see the edge of her breasts and a single nipple. He could see tears streaming down her face.

"No. Please. Don't. What are you doing?"

Millard was fiddling with some kind of black box on the table -- visible to Catherine but not to Chester. Eventually, he pulled a red wire from it, with some kind of metal clip on the end. He held her breast and clipped it to her nipple. She screamed in pain and tried to struggle, but the way she was trussed up, she couldn't move.

Chester turned his face away, the image of her agony causing a strange reaction in him.

"Chester!" John commanded. "Get over here."

He shook his head, not wanting to comply.

"Mother fucker. Get your candy ass over here. You're a girl, right?"

He shook his head again, but found himself walking over to John's side.

"You know Ms. Cruline, right?" John pulled Catherine's face to the side, forcing her to look at Chester.

He nodded, asking her silently if there was anything he could do. At that moment, Millard held her left breast and attached a second clip to that nipple. She screamed the moment she felt his hand on her breast, but John held her head, facing him.

"Now, now, Catherine. You know you want this. Obviously you must have wanted it, or you wouldn't have misbehaved, right?" He made her look up at him, his eyes cold. "Tell Chester you want it. He's a little scared we're hurting you."

She tried to turn her eyes away, her sobs wracking her body. Between gasps, she opened her mouth. "It's...it's okay...Chester. John's right. It's... what I expected."

He let her head go and she cried openly.

Chester stared at the clamps on her nipples, her breasts hanging free, the wires going to the black box.

"It seems a little unfair that Catherine is the only one undressed, don't you think, Chester?" John looked over at Millard. "She probably hasn't seen a girl quite like you before."

Before he could think, he blurted out, "Oh, she's seen all of me already..." and then realized it was probably not the right thing to have said.

The two stared at each other and then down at her. "What? Another little secret? My my, Catherine, you are just a box full of secrets today, aren't you." John motioned to Millard and stepped back. "Asshole," he turned to Chester. "Since you two are on such intimate terms already, how about losing the clothes. Now!"

He knew it was stupid to protest, either he or Catherine would just get hurt, besides, what did he care to be naked? It was puzzling to him, didn't they think he was gay? Why would they want him to be naked if they were as homophobic as they seemed? As he began to undress, Catherine stiffened, her mouth open in a silent scream.

Millard had turned on the machine, and quickly turned a knob.

"OHHHHGOOODDDDDD!!!! FUCK FUCK FUCK!!!" She screamed after the initial charge of electricity coursed through her nipples in that first instant, recovering only when Millard had adjusted it, after the fact.

"Stop it, you little cunt!" John slapped her hard on her ass cheeks. "Pull yourself together. You know what to say if you want this to stop. Now shut up!" He slapped her again.

Chester had dropped his slacks, revealing his silk briefs. He was ashamed. Not at being naked, but at the realization that the suffering Catherine was going through was arousing him in some horrible way. Looking down, he saw his erection beginning to push the panties away from his body.

"Holy Mary, mother of Christ. Would you look at that Millard? The guy's getting off on this. Mother fucker." John grabbed him by the arm and pulled him in front of Catherine so she could see him. "Look at that, little lady. Your girlfriend is getting a hard on watching you suffer."

Catherine's face was red and puffy from crying. The pain from the electrical stimulation had subsided a little, but it came in pulses, obvious to Chester as she screwed up her face every few seconds. He looked down at her nipples, pulled away from her body by the weight of the wires, the teeth of the clips pinching into them. He felt his penis pulse.

"Oh, god. No. Oh. No....nooooo..godddd, please. Stop. Make it stop. He...he can't see me this way...he..." She continued to plead with them, but they only seemed to enjoy it more.

"She actually wants this, Chester. Really. She gets off on it. Seriously." It was Millard, his fingers resting on one of the machine's black knobs.

"Everything. Off." John motioned to Chester to finish stripping.

"Holy shit. John! Did you know this queer was hung like a horse?"

Chester blushed deep red at the attention his erection was getting. Looking up, he saw Catherine staring at him, her mouth opening and closing, whether from pain or the shock at his size.

"I thought you said you two were buddies, Chester. Looks to me like she's never seen you before." John walked behind her. "Let's make it a little easier for you, Cate." John put the joint in his mouth, took her panties in his hands and slid them down to her thighs exposing her cheeks and her dark triangle of hair. "That's more like the way you like it, right, darling?" He put his palm on her ass, lightly rubbing it. "How many?"

She just sobbed, shaking her head, tears falling onto the table.

"I asked once, and I won't ask again!" He raised his hand, ready to strike her.

"15. I deserve 15 for disobeying you."

"You know the drill, honey. And as we have agreed, no penetration of your pretty little virgin twat. But...15. If I know you, you will be dripping by seven." He raised his hand and brought it down hard.

"OHHH GODDDAMIT!!!" The slap caused her to jump against the table, her eyes screwed shut. "One," she barely could say it. "Thank you."

Before she'd finished saying it, his hand came down again, and she screamed, her body jumping.

Chester watched, helpless as the two men alternately spanked and jolted her. More alarming to him was how stiff he had become, his peter harder than he'd ever seen it. He stood exposed to her, naked in a way he'd never felt before. Grimly, he was silently thankful she couldn't really see him; her eyes were either closed or filled with tears.

With the sound of the 15th slap echoing in the room, Catherine was barely able to mouth the final thank you, struggling to breathe. It looked to Chester as if her arms would be pulled from their sockets.

John had reached behind him for something out of a desk drawer. "Chester may need a little help figuring out where to put that thing, Cate. Hold still."

It was obviously a gratuitous remark, but from where Chester stood, he couldn't begin to understand what he meant by it. He watched as Millard pulled her cheeks apart and saw her open her eyes, shake her head and whisper a protest. "No." Even from where he was standing, he could barely hear her. Her eyes focused on his erection and her expression changed. She just shook her head side to side, staring at him and silently protesting.

The two had finished whatever they were doing behind her and he watched as they unzipped their pants. He couldn't see their penises, but he assumed they were hard and that they would rape her. Although, he wasn't sure if it was rape. John had said she knew how to make it stop. Why didn't she make it stop?

"You first, John. I believe it's your turn." Millard stood back, his cock now visible to Chester.

John reached up and gently stroked her breasts, letting his fingers glide down to her nipples. Chester watched him, his fingers so light. He watched her face, her expression of alarm as John's fingers got close to the clamps. She shook her head, her soft 'Nos' like puffs of steam from a locomotive. Even though his fingers never touched her nipples, she erupted with a scream of pain.

"FUCKKKKKK...NOOOOOO!!!!" Her body convulsed in agony.

When she started to buck against the table, Chester finally understood what had happened. John had obviously shoved his penis into her and was pounding against her. John's grunts mixed with her protests as he moved into a steady rhythm.

"You...little...slut," John exhaled with every push, "tell...Chester...you...want...THIS." He shoved hard at the end, her face popping open from the invasion.

She shook her head, tears flying off, trying to catch her breath. Streams of mucous flowed from her nose across her lips.

"Yeah, Cate. I think Chester needs to be reassured again." Millard knocked an ash from the joint into her hair and took a drag.

"Uhhhnn, I...I'm...I...unhhhh...OH FUCK!" John had reared back and shoved into her, hard. "I LOVETOBEFUCKEDINMYASS!"

It took several seconds for Chester to decipher what she had said, it all came out in one stream. He was shocked -- they were fucking her in her ass??? He'd never known people did such things. And it was so dirty!!!

John apparently was climaxing, he held her by her shoulders as he pumped into her, her head bobbing from the motion until he had finished. He smiled wickedly at Chester when he had recovered, pulled out of her with a small pop and pulled up his trousers. "You're turn, Millard. I think she's lubed up for you."

"Catey, my girl. You know how I like it." His hands came down to spread her cheeks as he pushed up against her.

"Please," she begged, her breathing was ragged. "Let me catch my BREATH!" She was shoved forward again as Millar impaled her, drops of liquid flying from her face.

"Tell me, you little bitch!" He shoved deep inside her.

"Fuck...me...in...my...ass...Mill...ard...so...I...can...stay...a...vir...gin." With each syllable he pounded her, her breasts bobbing against her chest, the wires threatening to fall off.

"Nice, unhhh, hunnh, Chester?" Millard looked up at him between thrusts. "She...unh...likes it in the...back...door...god this is sweet, Cate. So...fucking...sweet." He stopped for a second, his right hand drifting down to the box on the table. "You ready?"

"No...no...please Millard, noooooohhhh!!!!"

"Here we go sweetie...just the way you like it." Whatever he did, she stiffened, her face thrown back in pain as he shoved himself deep into her. "God that is fucking fantastic. John, I can feel the throbbing all the way down here. Fuck!" He brought his fingers up to her nipples and suddenly he went stiff, the electricity jolting between them.

Chester didn't know what to do -- the two of their faces both screwed up in agony, their bodies stiff, Catherine's cries of anguish filling the room, the sickly sweet smell of pot inside his nose. He saw John out of the corner of his eye, but the motion hardly registered. He stared at Catherine's breasts, the nipples red and vibrating, Millard's fingers pinching them, his face in pain, his body pushing hard against her.

And then it was over. Millard's hands fell to the table, his body went limp against her, his breathing labored and irregular. "God, Cate," he said eventually, "that was so fucking awesome."

Her eyes were still shut, tears streaming down her face, her mouth making small shapes with her breath. Her bra had slipped down her arms to rest against her head making a strange tiara.

"But, my friend," John interrupted the quiet, bringing Chester's attention back to the room, "she's not finished, are you, Catherine?" His voice wasn't like Millard's, Chester noticed. He enjoyed the torment, but Chester got the feeling Millard enjoyed...Catherine. "Answer me!"

"No..." she shook her head. "I haven't cum yet."

"But you want to, don't you, you little twat?"

She nodded, her eyes opened and pleading, but with whom Chester couldn't imagine. Not with him! He had nothing to do with this!

Millard pushed away, leaving her hanging, figuratively and literally. John's hand came around in front of her, stroking at her bush. She jumped at his touch, sniffling back the stream of liquid coming out of her nose. Chester watched as his fingers slid down between the table and her legs, between her legs.

"Say it."

She shook her head, her sobs changing to moans. "Please...don't...please...no...don't...you...no..."

"SAY IT!"

She jumped again as John's fingers caressed her, sliding into her vagina, running along her clit. She looked up at Chester, her eyes darting between his face and his pulsing cock, shaking her head. "I...ohhhh....fuck...ohhhh....god, no...John...don't...no...don't make me..OOOHHH!"

"Tell him. Beg him. We won't let you cum until you do." Underscoring his point, he pulled his hand away.

She moaned, licking her lips and looking around her wildly, first at Chester and then to see if either of the other two were anywhere in her line of sight.

"Do we need to start over again? I know you can sometimes cum that way..." John's hand moved across her ass cheeks, softly emphasizing the threat.

She inhaled sharply and shook her head. "NO. Please. No. Okay. Yes, okay! I'll do it." She looked at Chester, her face miserable. "Please, Chester. I need to cum. I need...you...to...fuck me in my tight ass."

He stared at her and then at John's impassive face behind her. He looked over at Millard, smoking the joint and watching the scene. Millard shrugged and sat down, unconcerned.

"Come around here, Chester, ol' girl. Usually we'd do this a different way, but as soon as Catherine saw that monster, we knew she wouldn't be happy without it up her ass...so...since you've disobeyed our agreement, you've got a choice..." John stepped back inviting Chester behind her.

It was his turn to shake his head. His mind was a swirl of confusion. Put his peter in someone's rectum? With other boys' ejaculate? He had lost track of whatever John had been saying.

"So...here, or there?"

He looked up confused, tears blurring his vision. "Wha...?"

"Shit. Listen, butt-fucker. You take it up the ass all the time, right? Well, now it's time to give it to our Cate, here. Either you fuck her tight little ass with that mother-fucking beast god gave you, or she'll just have to endure a spanking, just a tad bit harder than you just saw. And as for you...well, that we'll have to think about..."

"Please, Chester." She looked at him, her eyes begging. "Just do it. They mean it. They'll hurt me. It's the only way I'll be able to cum, and they won't stop until I do. Please."

He stared at the three of them, trying to clear his thoughts. Just last week he had been minding his own business, trying to get through school and on with his life. Now, after only a few days at the women's house, his whole life had been turned upside down. Looking at the cruel expression on John's face he thought it was Yvette's, the pain of what she had done to him rising up and threatening to overwhelm him.




Making a Woman of Him Ch. 09



"Well, Catie, ol' girl, I guess that's your answer..."

"No! I'll...do it. I'll do it. Just show me what to do..." He looked down at the floor as he walked behind her.

"What?!! You've never fucked anyone in the ass before, Chester? You've got to be kidding!" John's confusion looked sincere, staring at Millard to see if he believed it. "Well, alright then. Come on over here and let's take your cherry!" He backed away a little more, careful to not touch him as if he might catch a disease.

"Spread her cheeks, Ches."

Standing behind her, his hands pulling apart her beautiful ass cheeks, he saw now what they had been doing: written around her pink asshole in permanent marker were the words: Fuck me here, I'm a virgin. He stared at the wrinkly hole, a dribble of cum dripping out, and he swallowed.

"Don't delay the inevitable Chester m'lad. Take that prick of yours and help her over the edge!" Millard had gotten up to witness the taking of Chester's virginity.

He had trouble pulling her cheeks apart and pressing his penis against the hole until he realized he had to step closer to her. With his thighs practically pressed up against her his shaft was against her crack, too high to penetrate her. He bent his knees feeling the slimy ribbed texture of her anus rubbing along the underside of his penis and he shivered in disgust. Suddenly, he felt his glans up against the rosy muscle and he felt her open to him.

"Stick it in me, Chester. Please. Before they hurt me. Please?" She tried to turn and see him, but her arms kept her facing forward.

He pushed forward softly, still not wanting to go through with it, but too terrified to back out and before he knew it, his head was inside her: warm, wet and unlike anything he'd felt. Not like Roxie's cheeks, or Corrine's tongue, or Yvette's hand, even when she had put lotion on. The memory of Yvette stroking him came back like a wave crashing -- the times she would make him watch as she spread the rose scented crème on her hands, taunting him, forcing him to beg her to give him relief. The anger he had felt, combined with humiliation, pushed him over some hidden threshold and he shoved harder into the slippery envelope of Catherine's rectum.

"OH GOD!!!" She screamed as he penetrating her, the sound of her pain slowing him briefly. "STOP. FUCK! Chester! STOPPPP!"

He knew that wasn't whatever the word was she needed to say to make him stop, and the cheering from John and Millard only confirmed it. He let go of her cheeks and put his hands up her ribs, pulling her down onto him, feeling his cock inching further into her. He had no idea what fucking a vagina would feel like, but he couldn't imagine it feeling better than this: her tunnel was so tight it grabbed him like nothing he'd ever felt. He looked down and saw he was only half-way in, but the feeling was incredible. He paused to catch his breath and feel the throbbing of her heartbeat against his penis. He pulsed his penis back, expanding his head inside her bowels and was pleased to hear her mewl in response.

"She likes whatever you're doing Chester. Keep it up and she'll be cumming in no time."

He moved his hands to her breasts -- he wanted to feel them, to crush them as he pushed deeper against her. She protested, begged him to not touch her nipples; he could feel tears, or snot, dripping from her face as he purposefully ignored her, much to the entertainment of the other two.

He avoided touching both wire clamps on her nipples at the same time, not wishing to get electrocuted, but with each touch she yelped in pain and pushed against him. He didn't understand her, what she was doing here, or how she could possibly enjoy this, but he had stopped caring, only wishing to pursue some animal emotion that he'd never felt before.

He started to pull out, slowly, listening to her beg him to fuck her hard in the ass again. It was indescribable the feeling of her rectum stroking his cock so softly and so tightly. He could feel the ring up against the bottom of his glans and he stopped.

"What...do...you...need...Catherine?" He could barely get the words out, his heart was pounding. He was confused by her shouts for more and for him to stop. He still couldn't believe how amazing this felt.

The other two stopped and listened, waiting for her to answer.

"You're hard, hot cock, Chester. In my tight ass. Hard. Hot. Fuck me, Chester, I'm so close. I'm so close." She was panting, her head moving from side to side, her body trying to push against him to take him into her.

He bent his knees, telegraphing what he was going to do and waited.

"Please! Chester. Fuck. Me. HARD! OOOOOHHHHHHFUCCKKKKK!"

He pushed up into her as hard as he could, shoving with his legs, lifting her feet off the floor momentarily, forcing her to hang on his cock as it slowly pushed past her defenses, his girth stretching her sphincter further than she'd ever felt.. He couldn't take it much longer, the sounds of her begging him, the feeling of her nipples against his fingers and then, the squeezing of her tunnel on his shaft. He was still only half-way into her, her rectum began rippling against him, milking his seed out of him until he erupted in a burst unlike anything he'd ever felt.

"YESSSS, CHESTER, YESSS, ooohhhh FUCCKKKKK MEEEEE, CHESTERRRR! FUCK MEEE!!!" Catherine went stiff, pressed against the table, her head arched back, Chester's cock buried as deep inside her as he could go.

Millard shut off the box as she climaxed and she squeezed Chester's cock even harder, a second orgasm crashing over the first.

He could hear her crying now, crying in relief and abandon, her body beneath his, her breasts in his hands. He put his fingers over the clamps and pulled them off and he felt her squeeze him again, this time so hard he thought she would tear his penis off his body.

"GODDDDFUCCKKDAMMITGODDFUCKKFUCKKFUCKK" She screamed as the pain of the clamps being removed pushed a third wave through her and he held onto her nipples, hoping to massage the pain away. She pulsed against him, thick strings of drool coming down onto his hands. "GODDDDCHESTERDAMMITFUCKYESSYESS YESS!"

He slowed down, trying to not get hurt as his penis deflated and started to pull out. He had lost track of the others -- it almost felt as if he had passed out -- until finally his hands dropped to the table and he pulled out completely. He looked down to see specks of shit on his cock and he almost gagged, the smell of her rising up along with his shame.

He stepped back and went to get his clothes.

"Not so fast, Chester, old boy." Millard stopped him. "You're not off the hook yet. Not by a long shot."

He felt bile in his throat and wondered what would happen if he vomited all over Millard. He saw John lowering her arms off the hooks, bending her at the waist to let her rest her cheek against the table.

"What?" He barely whispered.

"You came back here. Against the deal. You broke the deal. We'll need a new deal, right?"

He stood naked, stinking of shit and close to getting sick. "What do you want?" He had to get out of there, get to the bathroom and get cleaned up immediately.

"You. And Catherine. You understand, first of all, that this never happened, right?"

He nodded. He'd never admit to it even if they brought it up.

"Secondly. You understand she's looking out for us over there and you're not going to fuck that up, right?"

He nodded again. Who gave a shit? Shit. All he could smell was shit. The bile bubbled against his throat.

"Okay. So here's the new deal: you're going to look out for us too, got it? You'll both be watching over there. We'll interview you separately, so your stories better be straight. You got that, Chester? You'll be back here in a couple of days and if you don't want to be in her position, you'll tell us what you know."

He nodded, reaching for his clothes and ready to run.

"Oh, and one other thing you should know. Catherine will be given a little task to do for us that we'll expect you to report on. You'll know it when you see her next. Now get the fuck out of here you little faggot and don't come back until we call you."

He rushed into the hall, up the stairs to his floor and into the bathroom. Dumping his clothes on the floor, he started the hot water in the shower and stood under it, crying for what seemed like an hour before he found his way to his room, collected his stuff and walked back to the women's house.



Making a Woman of Him Ch. 10



He undressed in a daze, not even taking the time to put his clothes away passing out on the bed. It wasn't late, before 9PM, but he had been traumatized by the events at the men's house, by seeing Catherine tortured, by her desire for pain! His sleep was equally tortured, images of Yvette taunting him, the constant 'favors' she demanded of him.

He looked up to see Lyssa and Yvette in his parent's bedroom.

"You've outdone yourself, Lyssa! These are amazing!" Yvette stood back from the bed admiring the several outfits laid out in front of them.

He was naked, as had become the routine. Whenever Lyssa came over, Yvette expected him to be completely undressed. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the rainbow of colors in front of him.

They had him try everything on, one after the other. With each bit of silk rubbing against his skin he got harder, until by the last outfit, his peter was throbbing and pushing out from the top of the waistband.

He watched, dumbfounded as Lyssa got down on her knees, peeled the panties down and leaned forward, lightly kissing his penis.

"Nooo," he moaned, his hands trying to push her away. "It's too dirty...." But his arms were like lead weights, his hands couldn't move. He felt her lips, wet and silky, drift over his head, her tongue swirling along it, forcing him to buck his hips forward. "Nooo...please..."

The sound of her sucking on him changed and he opened his eyes into the darkened room, his penis sliding into a wet warm mouth. Looking down he saw June's hair, silvery blond in the light from the hall, glistening as she moved against him. He felt her sliding off him, her face tilting back to smile at him.

"I told you I'd return the favor, Chester. I don't like to welch on a deal."

Before he could stop her, she slid back over him, wet and hot. It wasn't like Corrine, or Roxie, or Catherine's rectum. Her rectum! June was sucking on his peter after it had been in the dirtiest of all places! He only relaxed a little after remembering the hot shower and the hard scrubbing he'd given himself...when was it? He looked over at the clock and saw it was midnight.

Nooo...I've got to get some sleep!

June's attention to his penis resulted in it getting hard again, although not as hard as it had been witnessing Catherine's punishment. He pulsed at the memory, inspiring her to continue whatever she had been doing. Her fingers wormed their way under his thighs, pulling him into her as deeply as she could manage, which, in her case was nothing like Roxie. She barely had the head against the back of her mouth, her tongue twisting around him. He could feel her saliva dripping onto his pubic bone.

She pulled up, sucking along the shaft and slipped down again. Almost, but not quite pulling off him, she continued her rhythm, her fingers pulling his cheeks apart until he felt the tips against his anus. He couldn't stop her, he didn't want to stop her, even as he was disgusted by what she was doing. Why did these women all want to suck his semen out of his penis? His hands drifted to her hair, his fingers curling through the strands.

Encouraged by his movements, and feeling him enlarge slightly, June went into high gear, moving her wet mouth up and down in double-time. She knew he had to be close and she wanted to taste him. Moments later she was rewarded, a splurt of cum erupted from him as he arched his back up to meet her. She held him against her mouth, as deeply as she could until he relaxed back down and his cock began to deflate. Swallowing the remaining dribbles, she kept him in her mouth, her head resting on his belly.

"Thank you, Chester," she said quietly, after pulling off him. "I was feeling bad taking so much from you and not giving anything back."

His fingers pulled gently at her hair, distractedly, as he felt himself get limp. Now, besides the throbbing pain he knew he would suffer tomorrow, he felt an irritation on his skin, as if June had given him a rug burn.

"Was it okay?" She looked up at him, her eyes almost invisible.

"It was great, June," he whispered, looking away. He pulled his hands away from her head and tried to turn. "I've got to get some sleep...please." His voice was barely a whisper but he felt he had whined.

She nodded and slipped off him and off the bed, softly padding to the door. "Thanks, Chester. I hope it was good for you."

He turned away, feeling wet and spent and burning.

* - * - * - *

"Chester!"

He felt the push against his shoulder and jerked his head up. Disoriented, he looked around at the lecture hall, students gathering their books, jackets and backpacks, the echo of the whispered shout in his ear. He turned to see Catherine staring down at him, surprise and...fear? on her face. He shook his head, realizing he'd fallen asleep. Fallen asleep! In Morten's lecture?!!!

"Hi Catherine...wha...I must have dozed off..." He had never fallen asleep in a lecture before. His anxiety began to grow. All of the sexuality activity was clearly taking a toll on his vitality.

"Chester," Catherine half-whispered, looking around at the emptying lecture hall. "What are you doing here?"

"I...what? I, uhhh, I've got Morten's class at 1PM every Tuesday. What?"

"I've never seen you here before." She was still whispering, fear now clearly written on her face. "You...we...you know what you have to do...," she tipped her head down, putting her backpack on the floor. "Right?"

He had no idea what was going on. If he didn't get moving soon, he'd be late for his 2:30 debate. "What are you talking about, Catherine? Do?" He started to collect his things. There were only a couple of stragglers heading out the doors.

"No! You can't move. You can't go. Not yet. Not until..." She stopped him, and made him look up at her face. Tears were forming in her eyes. "John. Millard. You know what they'll do to me if you don't."

He had a good idea of what they'd do to her, but he had no idea what she was implying. "I'm sorry, Catherine, I really don't know what you are saying."

"God damnit," she whispered, turning to face the stage several rows in front of them. The lecture hall was steeply sloped, the rows of chairs cascading down. From where they were sitting, about 10 rows up, they could be clearly seen from anywhere in the room. They were alone. "Fuck."

He watched as she bent over the back of the seat, reached back and lifted her wool skirt above her waist. Her lingerie, Devereaux, he noticed, light pink and typically conservative, covered her backside. As he watched, she pulled down her panties as far as she could, exposing her cheeks. The fog hadn't cleared completely from his mind; he was completely baffled by what she was doing. He did notice a fine network of burst blood vessels on her behind, where John's or Millard's blows had left a lingering impression.

"Five," she said, looking back at him, her hands resting on the seat's armrests. Her body was bent at an angle, her head below her waist. "And you have to mean it. They'll know if you don't."

"What? What five, Catherine? What are you going on about?" He could feel his peter hardening at the thought of what they would do to her. He still wasn't sure what she was asking...demanding...of him.

"For crying out loud, Chester! Five spanks! Isn't it obvious? Shit! Before someone comes in. Hard, Chester. As hard as you can!" She was practically spitting.

Her tone made him jump out of his seat and stand to the side of her. Her bottom looked so pale around the light bluish/purple bruises. He brought his hand down lightly to stroke it, to feel her skin. It was tight and warm.

"Spank you?" He moved his hand lightly. "Why should I spank you? What is going on Catherine?" He couldn't stop feeling her skin.

"Fuck, Chester!" She was still whispering, exasperated. "John. Millard. They told you I'd have to do something the next time I saw you. This is it! Five. Fast. Hard. Before someone comes in and sees us! Please!"

Her urgency caused him to raise his hand back. He'd never done anything like this. Nobody had demanded he spank them. Nothing Yvette had ever done came close to this perversity. He brought his hand down, hard and flat against her cheeks, watching them jiggle just as she screamed.

"ONE! THANK you, Chester!"

He could see her gripping the arm rests tighter as he pulled his hand back. Not wanting to strike the same place, he tried to find an unbruised area off to the side of her right cheek. The sound of the slap seemed to reverberate through the room, followed by her response. He couldn't understand why she needed this, why he was doing it, and more frightening, why it made him so hard.

His hand stung on the third slap, just below her waist and she grunted her 'Thank-you' through tears. Something came over him, that animal feeling again, and he stopped for a moment, surveying her. He reached down and pulled her panties all the way to her feet; she stepped out of them without questioning and spread her legs as far apart as she could. He didn't know how she knew what he intended, but the power he felt over her, as if she was reading his mind, filled him with the need to hurt her. He brushed his hand between her legs, feeling how wet she was.

"No...god...no...please...just finish...before someone comes..."

His wiped his hand, wet with her juices, on her reddening cheeks. "Will you climax?" He asked quietly as he considered where he would strike her next.

"Just do it, Chester. Please. No...I won't cum. This isn't enough."

He could see the tears and hear her frustration and fear. He brought his hand down and swung it up as best he could, against her exposed sex.

"FUCK, FOUR! Chester....fuck...thank you...not...there!" She exhaled another thank you and waited, breathing hard.

He watched her back rising and falling, wondering where else he could slap her, wondering when she would be required to do it again. He stepped to her right side and lifted his left hand, aiming for the bulge of flesh just where her buns met her thigh.

"FIVE! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! Thank you, Chester! Thank you" She was crying now, her body shaking from her sobs as he reached over to pick up his bag.

"I...I...don't want to hurt you, Catherine." He said, lamely. "I...why...how can we not do this again?"

She shook her head, trying to control her breathing. He could tell she was aroused, the smell from her sex was obvious, but he didn't want to think he had hurt her. "Are you okay?"

She nodded silently, her eyes closed. "Just go. You'll have to do this whenever I see you. No matter who's around. No matter what. It's what they expect."

He watched her calming down knowing he had to go. "But how will they know, Catherine? If it's just you and me, we could say it never happened. We didn't run into each other."

"Just go...they'll know. They'll know because they'll force me to tell them. Now. Just. Go."

He turned and walked down the row to the exit door feeling his erection rubbing hard against his leg, reminding him of how irritated it was. As he turned up the main stairs and looked back at her he could see her, half-naked and sobbing, reaching for her underwear. "I'll see you back at the house," he said, before he realized the implications. "Or not."

* - * - * - *

He barely made it through his classes, almost blowing his debate team's performance. No one had seen him this distracted and they were worried, asking about his health.

He practically ran back to his room and shut the door, not wanting to think about Catherine and what had happened. He was terrified he had hurt her permanently, or worse that they'd run into each other in a crowded place and she'd have to present herself to him right there.

Trying to bury himself in his books, he jumped at a light knock on the door.

"Who is it?" He sounded frightened.

"Chester? You in there? It's Roxie."

He felt his heart jump. Fuck. Roxie. No, no, no, no.

He saw the door open and he tried to cover his fear as she peeked around. "Are you decent?" She asked quietly.

"I'm over here, Roxie." He had a frog in his throat.

"Hey."

She had entered the room, leaving the door open. At least she was dressed.

"Hey?"

"You look kinda funny, Chester. Is everything okay?" She sat on the bed, staring at him. Not waiting for an answer she continued. "Catherine said you were in Morten's class..."

He almost fainted at the thought Catherine had told Roxie about what they had done. The room was swimming a little when he heard Roxie's voice, concerned.

"Chester! What's going on? You must be sick." She was up and over to him in a moment, her soft hands against his cheek, pulling his face up to look at her. He could smell her perfume and maybe a whiff of her sex, he wasn't sure anymore there had been so many smells in his life the past two days.

He breathed out and shook his head. "I'm fine. I'm okay, Roxie. Really." He brought his hands up to hers, moving them away. "What did Catherine say about Morten's class?"

She stood back a step, leaning against his desk. "She said you were in it. I didn't know that. I never see you there. Anyway, I need a little help with this last assignment and wondered if you had a few minutes before dinner?"

He shook the remaining confusion from his head. "Absolutely," he smiled accommodatingly, realizing he was treading on fine line here. John, or Millard, were already convinced she was seeing someone else...maybe it was him?

"But, uh, Roxie?" He didn't know how to broach the subject. He waited for a moment. "Would John or Millard care?"

"Millard? Why would he care who I do homework with?" And then she started laughing, her hand jumping to her mouth. "Oh shit. Shit." She couldn't stop giggling. "Did...Millard...threaten...you...threaten to do some...thing to you?"

He didn't understand what was so funny. She was practically crying she was laughing so hard, but about what he couldn't begin to imagine.

"Nooo...not me...I mean," he tried to change the subject. He couldn't reveal Catherine's involvement. "Not threaten me, no...he just suggested he wasn't very comfortable knowing a girl like me was living in the same house as you."

She wiped her eyes and smiled at him. "He's a fuckwad, Chester. We have been so over for so long, but he still thinks he owns me." Her eyes gleamed with a mischievous look. "What did he say, exactly?"

"I...uhhn...he...He just said, he thought you were seeing someone else and he would find out who it was." He stared at her trying not to look too guilty.

"Well, fuck 'im, Chester. I can see whoever I want and it's none of his business. Now, about that assignment. Do you have time now, or should we do it after dinner?"



Making a Woman of Him Ch. 11



He noticed Catherine was absent from dinner. He was grateful, but it made him wonder if she was avoiding him. He wouldn't blame her -- the thought of having to spank her in front of the other women at the table caused him to blush. He looked around and seeing as there were several empty seats, he decided it could be explained any number of ways. Apparently, except for Sunday night, dinners were optional.

Still, he wondered what was to happen. What if she passed him in the hall? Would he be forced to spank her no matter what? What if she walked into the bathroom, with the other women present? The image of her baring herself to him and demanding to be spanked threatened to eclipse everything else going on, including the conversation.

"...blushing again! My word, Chester, what could you possibly be thinking?"

He looked up and blushed even a deeper red, if that were possible, smiling gamely.

"I dunno, Corrine, but whatever it was it doesn't seem to stop! Look at the poor boy!"

He cast his eyes down, smiling as best he could at the ribbing and concentrated on his mashed potatoes. The conversation moved on, but he had trouble participating. All he could focus on were images of Catherine's backside, presented to him to spank, and, he shook himself, penetrate.

"I swear, Chester, if you don't stop day dreaming, we're all going to starve! Please pass the butter, man!"

He jumped at the voice and reached for the butter plate, passing it to Genielle, the memories dissolving. He shook his head, finished his dinner and excused himself as quickly as he could, explaining he had a lot of work to do.

In the safety of his room, his door shut, he focused on the remaining homework for the week. He had caught up, but given his new circumstances, he was betting he'd be getting more distractions than fewer in the days to come so he tried to get ahead in his reading assignments.

By the time he looked up, it was 10:00 and surprisingly Roxie hadn't appeared. The images from dinner crept back, his peter starting to swell. As he considered whether to make it an early night and start getting ready for bed, there was a soft knock at the door.

"Chester?" Roxie pushed open the door. "I saw your light on and figured you were still up."

He turned to watch her, framed in the door, her arms clutching a stack of books and her laptop. Thankfully she wasn't in her pjs as he had fantasized, but she might as well have been: she had the shortest cut-offs he'd ever seen, and her blouse was tied around her midriff, her breasts clearly visible without a bra.

"Hi Roxie," he sighed with a little more exasperation than he had intended.

"If it's not a good time, Chester." She seemed to notice.

"Well...no...I'm a little tired, is all." He looked up to see her shrink a little. "Shit. I'm sorry. Come in. It's not that hard." He had been referring to Morten's assignment -- something he had dashed off in less than 20 minutes. She looked down at his groin and smiled.

"We could fix that," she said accommodatingly, setting her books down on his bed.

It took him several minutes to figure out what she had said, long after he had started helping her through the homework. While she was busy thinking about her next outline point, he shook his head, wondering what he'd gotten himself into.

"Hey, Chester. Can I ask you a personal question?" She was apparently satisfied with the progress she had made on the paper and was packing up.

He glanced at the clock -- 10:30 -- and nodded. "Sure." He started cleaning up his own work.

"The other night, at dinner, Beatrice asked you about why you like to dress like a woman. Your answer seemed to satisfy everyone, but I'm still curious. Why do you dress this way?" She sat with her palms on her thighs, her face open and sincere.

He remembered his answer, the one he usually tossed off. But at that point he hadn't regained his memory of Yvette's treatment of him, how he had truly come to be this way. Now, now he couldn't hide the truth...but he wasn't sure how he would explain it.

"I...uhhh...well..." A dozen ways to begin flashed through his brain. "I had...uhm...have a step-sister...Yvette..." His hands started to flutter as they always did when he got nervous. "Shit...She..." He stopped, looking at Roxie, flummoxed. "It's complicated."

Roxie looked at him, concern mixed with curiosity. "Okay...it sounds like you're not ready to really share...that's okay." She started to turn to collect her things.

"No!" He put his hands to his mouth in surprise at the force of his answer. He started to giggle in embarrassment, thankful she was smiling with him. "Sorry. No. I would like to tell someone," he said, relief washing through him. He had always considered it a secret, he realized. A secret he couldn't share.

He remembered the first day she made him dress up in public. It was the three of them, Yvette, Lyssa and himself. Yvette had bought tickets to a Sunday concert in the park specifically as a celebration of Lyssa's first line. She had closed a deal the week before with a small retail company -- her lingerie would be in several boutique stores in the Fall.

As usual, he was stripped naked when Lyssa arrived, his peter hanging loose, his body clean-shaven. As far as he knew it was a typical Sunday -- his father and step-mother had some social affair, the help were off, Yvette and he were taking a quiet coffee in the garden. Lyssa walked around the side and through the gate, a box under her arm.

After each of them kissed on the cheeks in greeting, Yvette cleared a spot on the table for the box. "Are these it?" She was practically clapping from excitement.

Lyssa nodded, opening the box and pulling back the tissue. She pulled up a coral tinged lacy bra with a subtle underwire laying on the inside of the box top, followed by the briefest bikini panties, the front panel clearly designed to fit Chester.

"Ooohh, Lyssa. They're beautiful! I'm soooo jealous."

Chester looked at the ensemble and swallowed, the effect on his peter already noticeable.

"Try them on, Chester! Try them on!" Yvette looked like a school girl.

He got up, humiliated his peter had betrayed him and was now sticking out, swaying as he reached for the underwear. He pulled them on, shivering at the feel of the silk against his legs, until he had them up to his waist. His penis was pulled up, but even with the front panel, it was bulging out, pulling on the waistband.

Yvette tsked slightly at how he had ruined the effect, but urged him to put on the bra.

Standing in front of them, in the open air of the garden he thought he might faint. The feel of the silk against his skin, the two of them inspecting him and some hidden plan on their part only hinted at raised his arousal further. His erection was pushing the underwear out further; he knew he was disappointing Yvette and she would punish him for it.

"Lyssa! They're beautiful. Really. Of course, we'll have to do something about Chester's misbehavior, but I've got an idea for that. And the bra -- it's gorgeous, but it would be far better filled out a little..."

"...no problem," Lyssa said, reaching into her bag. "I thought the same thing." She pulled out two pads of latex.

Chester had no idea what they were, but he watched silently as Lyssa came over, unsnapped the bra and slipped them into the cups. "Hold still a sec," she said, resnapping it into place. "Right?" She turned to Yvette for confirmation.

"Exactly!" Yvette clapped and then frowned. "Except for the mess he's making down there. Let's see." She stepped forward and pulled the panties down, his cock snapping out. "Shit, Chester, you'd think you'd get over it already. It's been months." She took his penis and slowly pushed it down, until it was bent over at the juncture with the top of his balls, shoving it between his legs. "Hold still!"

He winced from the pain, trying to bend at the waist. He felt like his peter was going to break!

With one hand still holding his cock down, she used the other to pull up the panties, locking it in place upside down. "Now stand up straight, Chester! That's no way for a lady to stand!"

He knew she would get more angry if he didn't comply. If he hadn't learned anything else since she'd come into his life months ago, it was that: she would make life worse for him. He eased himself up to a full standing position, the bulge from his bent over peter noticeable but not enough to pull the waistband out.

"Let's see what you look like. A little modeling, please."

He knew what they wanted to see. They had trained him a little over the past several weeks. He walked away, swaying his hips just a little, trying desperately not to wince at the discomfort in his penis. When he got to the gate, he turned and walked back, remembering to hold his hands and arms in just the right position. He blushed at how they stared at him, but the walking helped a little, his erection was softening some.

"Beautiful Lys. Absolutely beautiful. I think I have just the thing to go over the top. Chester? You'll be the talk of the town!"

He stopped, panicked at the implications. "No. No, Yvette. You promised!" He said it softly, tears starting to fill his eyes.

"Promised? I don't recall promising anything. What are you going on about Chester? Get control of yourself." She turned to go inside. "I'll be back with the sheath."

Lyssa stood admiring him, gently arranging a strap, evening the waistline of the panties. She smoothed out the wrinkles in the panties, her hand stroking his buns and the top side of his penis. She felt it pulse in response. "You know," she said softly, her hand lingering on his erection feeling it reacting. "I've never been able to ask you what you think. Do you like my work?" She said it with sincerity.

She'd never touched him before and the feeling of her hand on him sent jolts up his spine. He didn't know how to react, humiliated that his peter jumped against her hand with a mind of its own. "I...uhhh...I love the feeling against my skin." It was true, but it didn't directly answer her question.

"You have a beautiful body, Chester, and even though your proportions have made it a challenge..." She left the thought unfinished, stepping back to admire him. "Let's get that picture taken."

It wasn't the first time she'd photographed him, but he still jumped in response to the request. Yvette had made it clear she wouldn't publish them, but the threat was always hanging there, unspoken. Lyssa had made him sign a release saying she could use the photographs in her portfolio. She claimed it was one of the reasons she'd gotten the recent deal.

He stood as they had taught him, his hands on his hips, turned in 3/4 profile. After a couple of shots, he moved his hands behind his head, turning to face her. The last position, him bending forward reaching for some unseen object, always confused him -- what would anyone be doing in this position wearing underwear?

"Here we go," Yvette came swooshing in, a swatch of fabric over her arm. "It just came back from Lourdes'." She held it out for both of them to look at.

Yvette had taken him to the seamstress a couple of weeks before for a fitting. Of all of the things Yvette had made him do, stripping down to his underwear so Lourdes could measure him was perhaps the most humiliating. He blushed at the memory.

He slipped the fabric over his head, the long tube fitted beautifully to his dimensions. It hung off his shoulders, tapering to his waist in a subtle way, the hem just below his knees. The two women arranged it, pulling here, adjusting there until they were satisfied and stood back to look at him. He could see his reflection in the French doors. A strange feeling came over him -- a shift from embarrassment and humiliation to one of...admiration and...attraction. He looked beautiful in that dress.

"Exactly." Yvette turned to Lyssa. "Exactly right.

"Okay, well the two of us need to get ready. Take those things off, Chester and straighten up. You'll probably want to shower and get yourself all primped. We're leaving in an hour."

"Leaving?" He knew it was the deal, but she hadn't been explicit until now.

"Yes, you stupid boy. We're going to the Garden Philharmonic. It's a charity and we've purchased orchestra seats. Now get going."

"Chester?" The memory collapsed at the sound of Roxie's voice. "Where'd you go?"

He shook his head, clearing the images of that day...the fear and panic of being paraded in public, the transformation into liking people staring at him, the constant stimulation against his penis of the silk. It was the last day he had ever worn boy's clothes, finishing up his high school year dressed as a woman.

He started to tell his story to Roxie, the words starting slowly and then tumbling out like children's wooden blocks from a tipped box. With each revelation, Roxie's eyes grew larger, her breathing quickened, her hands going to her mouth and back again. He could see the range of emotion his story was raising in her: sympathy, embarrassment...arousal.

"Chester!" She stopped him, overcome by a particularly cruel treatment Yvette had inflicted on him. "Why...I mean...didn't you tell your dad? I mean...wasn't he in the least...concerned...?" She couldn't understand how Chester could have been abused this way and no one seemed to intervene.

"She had fixed that," he said, relief at finally being able to tell his story flowing through him. He started to cry. "She had made me tell everyone in the house I had chosen to do this, that it was my decision and that I would appreciate everyone supporting me in it. My father was actually proud of me! Yvette had said he was a secret cross-dresser and I figured it was true." He wiped his eyes, his face wet.

Roxie stood and hugged him, pulling his face into her belly to comfort him. She felt the wetness against her, stroking the back of his head to help him. "You are so wonderful, Chester." She wanted to cry she felt such a surge of emotion. She knelt down, her blouse rubbing up against his face until their eyes met. She wiped his tears, stroking back his hair and leaned in to kiss him softly.

Her lips were so soft, her embrace was so kind. It was like a salve on a burning wound. He felt the tension of the past days fall away from him, the secret of the past four years revealed, and in its exposure, the evaporation of guilt and shame and humiliation. He pushed his lips against her, returning the kiss, her mouth opening in response, her tongue reaching out.

She pushed against him, gently moving back into his chair, her tongue pushing into his mouth. She broke the kiss, pulling back. "Oh, god, Chester! I'm sorry! I'm...you..." She looked at him to see if she'd taken advantage.

He brought his hands up to her face, stroking her, looking into her eyes, his relief overpowering the small amount of confusion at her reaction. "What...please...that felt so great." He pulled her face into his, wanting to feel her lips against him, to explore her mouth with his tongue.

They leaned back into his chair, the shift in weight threatening it to roll out from under them. She pulled back again, dragging him with her.

"C'mon," she stood up, lifting his chin up with her hands. Not waiting for him to stand up, she quickly pulled up her top, her breasts now properly free, and faced him, watching as he stared at her unbuttoning her shorts. "Would you...would it be okay to...be with me?" She kept looking at him as she pulled them off, taking her panties with her.

He had stood up by then, his erection pushing painfully against his slacks. "I've never done it before," he said quietly, his hands reaching to her ribs, letting his fingers play across her skin. He couldn't keep from staring at her bush -- the bright red hair framing the thick lips below. His eyes kept jumping from her head to between her legs. "You look so beautiful naked," he complimented her, momentarily paralyzed by what he was seeing.

She blushed, adding further red to a pale pink palette of skin and freckles. She knew what attracted men to her and she had used it over the years to get what she wanted. The memory of Millard, kneeling subserviently to her, pledging to be her slave, drifted behind her eyes. But this felt different. She wasn't seeking advantage, she was truly stricken by Chester's story, the pain and vulnerability, his openness in sharing, raised a new feeling for her, a feeling of nurturing, of healing. She looked down to see her deep pink nipples erect, the tiny pale shadow of the areolas, so small they were almost nonexistent.

"Kiss me, Chester. Kiss my breasts." She said it as a request, not a demand, reaching forward to offer herself to him.

Her breasts. He stared at them as if he had seen them for the first time. It wasn't the first time, of course, he thought back and realized this was the third time -- the first in the bathroom his first night, the second just yesterday morning when she came to visit him in his room, but it was like he'd never seen them quite this way. As he stared at her nipples, so small and pink, he realized he'd seen more breasts in the past few days than he'd seen in his entire life before. The differences were truly remarkable: Genielle's - large black and pendulous, her nipples a deep pink, the surrounding targets large and carmel colored; June's were much smaller but her nipples were big and her areola even bigger, and Corrine's larger than he could get his hands around, a completely different shape.

Until this week, for him, breasts were what bras were for, something he'd never be properly equipped with. But after being exposed to so many, he began to understand why bras were so complicated and why there were so many.

"Chester? Don't you like them?" Roxie looked at him with a mixed expression, pouting and smiling.

He leaned forward and kissed her left nipple lightly. Opening his lips he just barely touched it with his tongue, running it down onto the skin of her breast, feeling it crinkle. Opening his lips wider, he tried to bring as much into his mouth as he could, letting his tongue lie flat on the nipple. He backed up a little. "Your breasts are so different from Genielle's and the other girls."

"Chester!" She slapped him lightly.

"What? Aren't I doing it right?" He turned back to pay attention to the other breast, thinking he had spent too much on the left.

"No, Chester! You're doing it fine. It's just that it's not polite to talk about other women when you're making love. Don't you know that?" She pushed him away for a second to look at his face. "You really don't have much experience do you?"

He shrugged, trying to focus on her right breast, his tongue reaching out to lick the nipple. They were so small and tight, he just wanted to play with them all night.

"You're a virgin, Chester?" The comment just hit her consciousness.

He nodded, thinking about what he'd been forced to do with Catherine last night. "If you don't count butt-fucking," he said quietly.

She giggled, slapping him again, the innocence continuing to fan this new feeling in her. She took his head into her hands and guided his mouth to her right breast, holding it there. "Mmmm, that's nice, Chester. A little lighter...yes, uhhhhhuhh, yessss." She breathed in and out, letting his tongue send sparks into her chest. She could feel his pants pushing against her, the bulge of his erection pressing into her pubic hair.

She walked backwards, forcing him to bend a little more and take a step, until she felt the bed against the back of her knees. Sitting down, she moaned when he had to pull his mouth away. "Chester," she said as she brought her hands up to his belt. "I'm going to take your penis out, like I did yesterday, and then I want you to lay me backwards, spread my legs and push it inside me. Okay?" She looked up at his face, his eyes glazed a little. He nodded, watching as his peter sprang out, relieved.




Making a Woman of Him Ch. 11



She had forgotten for a moment how ginormous it was. This is going to feel amazing, she thought as she put her lips over it. Licking it, covering it with her saliva, she sat back to see it glistening, her juices flowing at the prospect of him ramming it into her. But he won't. He's too inexperienced. She sighed at the thought of teaching him to be the lover she wanted and slowly backed herself onto the bed, raising her knees and spreading herself open for him.

"Fuck me, Chester. Leave your clothes on. I want to feel exposed and wicked. Like a slut. I want to be your slut, Chester. Fuck your slut with that monster cock of yours." She looked up at him to see if talking dirty had any effect. He closed his eyes, his face twisted in pleasure and anticipation.

Looking down between her pale thighs, he studied her slit. So different from June's and Corrine's and Genielle's and he supposed Catherine's although he hadn't gotten a good look at it. The bright red hair framed darker, thick lips, shining and wet. He could smell her -- a "clean" smell, according to his recent lesson -- spices and grass. He thought about leaning down and tasting her, but her invitation to penetrate her was overpowering. He leaned over instead, his hands down next to her breasts, his erection touching her, the warmth and wetness sending a signal to his brain.

"Don't tease me, Chester. Push it into me. As deep as you can. Just take it slow at first, okay? You're so huge I'll need a little time to get around it."

He pushed and the head slid up and out of her lips, her pubic hair rubbing against its underside. He pulled back and tried again, the head popping out at the last moment.

"Oooh!" She moaned, as he pushed too hard against her clit. "God that's going to feel sooo good..hold on...let me help a little." She reached her hand down, encircling his shaft, pushing it lightly against her lips, opening them. "Okay, slowly, push into me, not up, 'k?"

He looked at her and did as she directed, feeling his cock swallowed by her wet hot velvet skin. It was amazing. It was as if it was designed that way. You idiot, it was designed that way! He smiled at his foolishness, almost fainting at the feelings surrounding his head and shaft. He pushed in further, her hand letting him go and he couldn't believe what it was doing to him. Further still, he could feel her pubic hair beginning to tickle the base of his peter, where his balls joined, everything else coated and enveloped in a wet, slippery-hot channel. It was like his mother's silk underwear but so so much better.

"Oh Oh OH...hold on Chester. Wait. Oh. Fuck. You're so huge. Hold on." Roxie's hands went to his ass cheeks, pinching and holding him, trying to stop him from pushing further. She hadn't been filled so much in her life -- the size of him stretched her lips, and he just kept going in. She felt impaled on his rod, like an animal sacrifice. Her mind was reeling at the intensity, not wanting him to stop but unable to take any more of him. She breathed in and out, focusing on relaxing, wanting him to bury himself and lie on top of her. "Okay, Chester. Okay. Slowly, very slowly push into me. Oh! It's okay. Oh! Oh! Yes! You're almost in, right? More? Shit. Shit. Shit. Fuck. Okkaayyyy. Yesss." She could feel the joint at the base of his shaft and knew he could push in further if she asked him, but she couldn't take any more.

Chester was in heaven. It was as if his entire peter were coated in silk underwear. Hot, wet silk underwear. In spite of expending so much of his vital fluids in the past days, he could feel it building inside him. He didn't want to move it felt so incredible. Roxie's hands drifted up to his shoulders urging him to lean down onto her. He brought his chest to hers and then his lips to her open mouth. He didn't want to close his eyes. He wanted to see everything she was feeling, to feel her lips against him as she pulsed against his peter.

She could feel his heartbeating inside her, the veins of his cock pulsing against the stretched walls of her pussy. She needed him to move, to rub his cock against her, but she didn't want to him to leave her, to leave her empty. She kissed him, shoving her tongue inside his mouth, wanting him to follow her lead with his cock, in and out. As she pulled her tongue out, she rotated her butt, trying to slide her pussy off him. He got the message, pulling out as slowly as he had gone in. "Ohhhhh, gawddd, Chester!!!" She couldn't take it, the size of him, leaving her empty, she needed him back.

He was confused for a moment. He was trying to pull out as slowly as he could so he wouldn't hurt her, but she had pushed her hands on his cheeks, stopping him from leaving. He held still, wondering what she wanted, but happy just to feel her vagina pulsing against him, wet and warm. He re-entered her, her moans and cries startling him. Apparently she wanted him to keep going, pushing him even deeper than before. Now he could feel moisture against the base of his peter, her juices seeping onto his testes. He couldn't take much more, the sensations were overwhelming.

"Pull out, Chester! Slowly, please, just fuck me slowly." She let up on his ass cheeks, letting him start to pull out. She couldn't take much more of this, but she knew she wouldn't cum this way. She sighed, the stimulation was amazing as his cock rubbed and stretched her skin on its way out.

He felt his peter pop out, the cool air on the head a stark contrast to the delicious feeling of being inside her. She moaned, urging him to push back into her, her hands on his butt cheeks. Maneuvering the tip of his penis against her warm lips, he pushed gently, feeling them spread apart, that wonderful silkiness drawing him in. He couldn't wait, pushing harder than before to feel her around him.

"Oh, OH, OHHH! YES, god YES, Chester! Fuck! Yes! Harder! Yes, shit! Yes harder!" She pulled on him even as she thought she might be injured, until he had seated himself inside her. This was so much better than what he'd done with Catherine the day before, and he thought that had been amazing. She urged him to pull out, and he repeated the motion, listening to her moan and beg to have him back, only to cry in anguish when he bottomed out inside her.

He couldn't hold out any longer. He could feel his semen building inside his sac and wanted nothing more than to ejaculate deeply into her. He hoped she was on birth control. He hoped she didn't have a disease. Too late for that, buddy. And then the rush of his seed up his shaft until he expanded feeling it erupt out of his hole. He pressed hard against her, splitting her legs open further as his pelvis tried to mash against her. He could feel her lips pressing against his balls, the liquid dripping onto his sac.

She was crying out, and he worried others in the house would hear, it seemed so loud to his ears. She was grabbing him, holding him tight and then twined her legs around him, locking him into her. All of a sudden she started bucking against him, grinding her pubis against his until she went stiff, pushing with all her might. He held still against her, trying to push back to give her whatever she needed, but his strength was giving out. He collapsed against her, her cries in his ears either of anguish or passion he couldn't tell. He lay there, breathing hard feeling her pulsing against his shaft as it began to shrink.

"Oh god, Chester, oh god, oh god." She brought her hands to his face and kissed him, pushing her tongue into his mouth, pulling him back to look at him, and kissing him again. "I didn't think I could cum this way, but god, god, Chester. It was so fucking fantastic. God...!" She kissed him again, against his cheeks, his eyes, his forehead and then back to his mouth.

He felt a euphoria wash over him with the echo of his orgasm. "No wonder," he whispered.

"What?" She stopped, waiting.

"Oh...nothing. I was just saying, no wonder people want to do this." He smiled at her, looking into her eyes.

She laughed. "It's not always like this Chester. That," she looked with her eyes down his body, "was fucking fantastic." She rested her head back, closing her eyes, pulling down on top of her.

He woke up, uncomfortable, sticky and wet, her light snoring in his ear. He looked over at the clock and swore softly. The lights were still on and it was 2:12. "Glad I did that extra homework," he muttered, trying to figure out how to get comfortable. She mumbled something and turned to the side of the bed.

He pulled the covers over her as he rolled off the bed, stripped off his clothes and debated whether to go to the bathroom. He could feel his bladder talking to him, so he padded down the hall, relieved himself, ran a toothbrush through is mouth and padded back, thankful none of the other residents of the hall were up.

He turned out the light, crawled onto the empty side of the bed and hoped he would be able to fall asleep.



Making a Woman of Him Ch. 12



When he awoke the next day, Roxie had left, the stain on his sheets and a faint trace of her musk the only evidence she had been there. And, he noticed, when he pulled back the covers, several of her red hairs. The euphoria he had felt as they were making love came back to him. He was smiling in spite of his lack of sleep. Looking at the clock he saw he was going to cut it close. He rushed through his closet, pulling out a comfortable ensemble, picked a couple of extra-special pieces of underwear (Lyssa had included a special note to him when she sent them, suggesting he had inspired her design) and practically ran down the hall to the bathroom. It didn't occur to him, until he walked in, that he had slept in the nude, again, only last night he seemed to have been okay. When he rounded the corner into the doorway of the bathroom, he saw the usual assortment of hall-mates getting ready.

"Hey! Chester! How are you today?" It was Corrine, sitting at her vanity, arranging her hair. He stared at her, seeing her breasts and comparing them to Roxie's.

"Hi Chester. We missed you last night." June smiled at him knowingly. He blushed, thinking about how he had spent the evening and worried she might get jealous. She turned to face him, opening her legs to show her shaved pudenda, her lips a deeper shade of pink than the surrounding skin.

He nodded to everyone, mumbling a good morning and quickly hopped in the shower to get ready. Roxie's smell immediately hit his nose with the steam rising off his body. He grabbed the soap and scrubbed. He'd be so embarrassed if one of the other women smelled it on him.

"Oh, he was with me last night," he overheard Roxie telling the others. He couldn't make out much more, but his face was burning. "It was a big night for him." He thought he heard giggling, but he couldn't be certain. Why was she doing that? It was a special night!

Before he could react any further, the curtain was pulled back and Corrine, June and Roxie were standing outside looking at him.

"Is that true, Chester? Did you and Roxie roll in the hay last night?"

He stared at Corrine, nodding his head slightly, unable to answer.

"And it was your first?" June looked curious.

He nodded again, his hands trying to wash the soap off his peter.

"Awww, I would have wanted to be his first. Damn, Roxie!" June slapped her on the ass playfully.

"Well, I'm sure there's always tonight, girls." Roxie turned back to her station, looking over her shoulder with a wicked grin. "I'm absolutely sure Chester will be up for it." She wagged her butt at them all and turned the corner.

"That's fantastic, Chester. I'm so happy for you. Remember what I said the other night, though. Any time. Really." June looked down at his groin and blew his penis a kiss before she turned to leave.

"So," Corrine narrowed her eyes. "It seems I'm being left out of the night-time fun and games. There's a few things I could show you...or perhaps there's something you'd like to show me?"

He had no idea what she was talking about, but nodded and smiled. He didn't want to be on anyone's bad side. The feeling he had waking up, the image of Roxie's face as she climaxed, he wanted all of that. The thought he might get it with June and Corrine started to make him hard.

"That's more like it," she said, smiling at his growing erection. "A little morning wood is all I ask for. Maybe tomorrow, eh?" And she walked away, leaving the curtain open. She stopped and turned around, grabbing something from his cubby. "I think you forgot to do this last night. It was quite a nice party -- too bad you didn't make it."

He took the depilatory from her and closed the curtain.

He had a spring in his step all day, even when he ran into Millard and John in the café and panicked. Shit! I just fucked Roxie. Millard will kill me! He tried to ignore them for as long as he could, hoping they'd just go away. As he was packing his things to go, Millard waved at him. He nodded and worked his way to the exit. As he looked back he saw Millard pointing his hand at him, shaped like a gun. He shivered and quickly made his way home.

"You got mail, Chester!"

He greeted Corrine as he made his way upstairs. "Yes? A letter or a package?"

"Letter. It was delivered today from the men's house. Looks like it must have arrived last Friday. I put it in your room." She waved to him from the bottom of the stairs.

He didn't think much of it. Likely from his father, or maybe one of his friends from school. It happened every once in a while, but as soon as he saw it on his bed, he froze. Yvette. He wanted to throw it out the window, burn it, open it and read it immediately, his emotions ran the full spectrum. He set his stuff down and looked at it from across the room.

A year ago, hell, a week ago, he would have been happy to see it. He enjoyed getting letters from Yvette, or so he thought. But with the memory of her tormenting him, of forcing him to be the way he was today, now raised feelings of dread. What will she be asking me to do now? As he thought back to every letter he'd received from her, he remembered her small favors.

He let it sit on the bed, trying to focus on his latest assignment, but it was impossible. After 15 minutes of distraction he gave in. Holding it as if it were a poisonous insect, he sliced through the end and removed the letter.

Dear Chester,

I hope this note continues to find you well and that you are focusing on your studies! We both know how important it is to stay focused and keep your eye on the prize, don't we.

For my part, I have been having a wonderful time on the Continent. We've been flying all over Europe from one fashion show to another as Lyssa peddles her line. It really is quite Baroque, actually . Kissing the right peoples' asses, deferring here, bowing there. Stupid really, but she is terribly serious about the whole venture, so I humor her. And it seems to have made a difference! We're coming to the States for a line.

And that's my big news! We'll be over there next week, preparing for our Stateside gigs. I am so looking forward to seeing you and hope you can break away from your studies long enough to spend a little time with your tired old sister.

He read further, taking in the details of her itinerary, and looked up at the calendar to confirm the date. She would be arriving this weekend! He set the note down and looked around the room, panic building in him. He didn't know what would happen, but the last person he wanted to see on the entire planet was his step-sister.

The house was quiet. It was his first Wednesday, his afternoon off from classes and he usually spent it in his room getting his work done. Since he had gotten ahead of classes, he turned his attention to the end of term paper due, something he hadn't spent nearly enough time on. Trying his best to put the rest of his life out of his mind, he began looking at possible topics.

"Pssst! Chester!" A harsh whisper from his door interrupted his concentration.

He looked over to see Catherine trying to get his attention, her head glancing over each shoulder furtively.

"Catherine? Come in!"

She looked again and quickly ducked into his room, closing the door behind her. He could see she was distressed, her face blotchy from crying, her eyes red-rimmed.

"Catherine! What's going on?" He stood up, concerned. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do, but he could tell she was about to start crying again.

"I saw you!" Her whisper practically a shout. "I saw you and Roxie!" It came out as a serpent's hiss. "Last night! In your bed! How could you??? How could you!!!"

He tried to reach out to her, to hold her shoulders, to somehow offer her comfort but she backed away.

"No! Don't touch me. You've ruined it! Millard will have your ass, just as he's had you take mine! There's no stopping him. And. I'll. Have. To. Tell. Them." She sat on the bed sobbing.

He froze trying to figure out what to do next. Watching her cry and remembering how wonderful he had felt earlier in the day, he fought off a growing depression. Couldn't I just enjoy myself without feeling guilty?

"Catherine." He tried to get her attention. "Catherine!" He walked over to her, took her shoulders and gave her a small shake. "Snap out of it! Snap out of it! It's none of Millard's business! Roxie broke off with him months ago!"

She looked up at him, not registering what he was saying for several heartbeats until the words made it through her distress. "What? What?!"

He could see the beginnings of anger emerging. "She told me yesterday. 'He doesn't own me...' she said, and that's true for you as well. You don't owe Millard anything." He stopped to think for a moment. "Speaking of which, why do you let him punish you that way? What does he have on you?"

She shook her head, a new round of tears beginning to flow.

"What?" He sat down on the bed, his arm around her shoulders, his hand stroking her hair.

"Pictures," she sniffled. "He...took...pictures..." She tried to catch her breath. "of...me..." She lost it, crying again.

"Pictures of you...doing what?" Chester couldn't imagine what Catherine had been doing that could have been worse than what he had been doing to her the other night.

"Like...the...other night," she blurted out. "He knew..." She stopped to breathe, her lungs laboring between sobs.

"Hold on," he said, squeezing her. "Just catch your breath and relax." He kept stroking her, trying to calm her down.

After a minute, she turned to look at him, her face a portrait in misery. She tried again. "He knew...somehow, that I like it rough. That I'm saving my...virginity...for marriage. I don't know how he found out. Maybe I told him. I got drunk one night at a party. Anyway..." she sucked in air, "he tied me up, with that asshole John, and the next day he showed me pictures. He's threatened to put them on the net if I don't do as they say." The last sentence cascaded out all at once.

A thought occurred to him just as there was a knock at the door.

"Shit," he mumbled, looking at her panicked face. "It's okay. There's no crime in being in my room.

"Come in!"

"Chester, are you okay?" Roxie's red hair peaked through the doorway, concern on her face.

Catherine turned away, embarrassed.

"Roxie," he greeted her, wanting to get up and hug her but not wanting to let go of Catherine. He dropped his arms and stayed on the bed. "Come in. Please. And shut the door."

She looked confused at the two of them sitting so close, closed the door and made her way to his chair. "What's going on?" She was more concerned than jealous.

"It's Millard," he began. "He's causing some..."

"...Don't!" Catherine practically shouted. "You can't! He'll..."

"...trouble." Chester looked between the two of them. "Catherine. It's the only way out. You can't keep going on like this. It's almost criminal."

Roxie looked even more concerned, confusion playing across her face. "What the fuck is going on with Millard?!"

Catherine buried her face in her hands, crumpling onto the bed.

"Your ex is...disturbed, Roxie." Chester continued. "Apparently, he's into blackmail, torture and all sorts of deviant behavior. But maybe you know that?" He looked at her, remembering her comments from the night before.

"He's fucked up alright. It's why I left him. But I didn't know he was into giving as much as he needs to get. What's he doing?"

Chester explained as best he could what he knew to give Roxie the idea, without providing graphic details of his involvement. Her anger grew with each revelation, but her compassion for Catherine grew even greater. She held up her hand to have him stop. She'd heard enough.

They sat silently: Catherine sobbing on the bed, Chester lightly stroking her, while Roxie stared out the window. He looked over at her, eyebrows raised.

"What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking," she said, venom in her voice, "Millard needs psychological help. But that's not for me to say, it's for him to decide to get. Since he's not going to do that, I think an intervention is in order. I'm just trying to figure out what that is."

"It's my fault," Catherine sobbed into the bed. "It's all my fault."

The other two stared at her, incredulous. "What?" "No it isn't!"

She just shook her head, sniffling into the covers.

"Catherine! What are you going on about? Millard is a sick bastard. You have no idea what he wanted me to do to him. Shall I tell you?" She stood up and knelt by her. "How badly are you hurt?"

Chester shifted, a little uncomfortable at his own complicity in Catherine's situation. "I, uhhh, I may have contributed...somewhat... the current situation."

She turned to look at him, her eyes narrowing. "What did Millard have you do?"

He wasn't sure how to explain, when another knock at the door interrupted them.

"Who is it?"

"Chester? It's June and Corrine. Are you okay? We thought we heard crying."

He turned to look at the other two, wondering what he should say. Roxie nodded, suggesting he should let them in. "We're...uhhh...okay. Come in!"

The room was getting a little crowded. June took the chair; Corrine sat kitty-corner on the bed to Catherine.

"What is going on?" she looked at Catherine and then at Roxie before turning her question to Chester.

"Millard," Roxie answered before Chester could even gather his thoughts. Apparently that was enough for the other two.

"Asshole. What did he do this time?" Corrine looked down at Catherine sobbing. "Did he hurt you?"

"We were just coming to that. Catherine? Can you tell us what he did?" Roxie looked up at Chester, her face a question mark.

She just shook her head, her hands waving behind her.

"He...uh...the night I ran into them, they had tied her up and...they were...spanking her pretty hard." He looked at June, preferring not to look Roxie in the eye.

"Shit. That fucking asshole." Corrine reached down to stroke Catherine's hair. "Did he do that to you more than once?"

Catherine didn't answer, her sobs quieting down.

"I...uh, I think Catherine actually...uh...likes it?" Chester looked down at Roxie, not sure how much she should reveal.

"Of course she likes it. That's not the point! Catherine? Did you consent to Millard treating you this way?" Roxie had stood up and began pacing in what little space there was.

Chester looked between the two of them, confused at Roxie's attitude.

Catherine finally pushed herself up to a sitting position, her hair matted against her face. She looked around at them and nodded her head a little. "At first...you know I like it when boys spank me." She cried again, embarrassed and humiliated. "But...he goes too far..." She looked over at Chester, the hint of a smile at the corners of her mouth.

He didn't understand what confidence she was trying to communicate. Was she suggesting Chester had been brought into the mess she had made and she was worried for him? He gave her a questioning look.

"What?" Roxie had picked up on it. "What does this have to do with you, Chester?"

He swallowed, realizing it was best to come clean. "I interrupted them, Millard, John and Catherine, the other night at the men's house. I had gone back to pick up some homework, heard screams and they pulled me into their room. They...they forced the two of us to..." He couldn't quite bear to explain the details.

"To what, Chester? They forced you to do what?" Corrine had gotten her hackles up, the thought that John and Millard were fucking around with her girls was beyond her tolerance.

"They...uhh, they forced me to have anal sex with Catherine." He said it as calmly as he could, even as he began shivering at the confession. "She...seemed to...need...it?" He looked at her for confirmation.

She nodded, looking him in the eyes. "It's okay, Chester. You didn't do anything wrong. She turned to the others, "I...shit...what the fuck...I didn't know what they'd do to him. I needed something! They had me trussed up for an hour, teasing me! Fuck Fuck Fuck!" She put her hands to her face and started to cry again.

Roxie stopped, looked at the two of them and continued to pace. Corrine had put her hands on Catherine's shoulders to calm her. June just stared at Chester, thinking about what they had done the other night. She caught his eye and shook her head, confused.

"So," Roxie said slowly, "everyone knows Catherine is into a little kink. The problem is, Millard isn't just kinky, he's an animal." She paused, thinking. "I suppose you could try and bring charges, but Millard could claim it was consensual, and there'd be few people, aside from Chester, up until a minute ago, who wouldn't have told the court the same thing under oath." She clicked her tongue slowly, continuing to pace.

"But," Roxie continued, "you want it to stop now, right?" She stopped, waiting for Catherine to respond.

"I...shit, I...yes! Of course I want it to stop...with Millard. He's an asshole and...but...the pictures...and what he's making Chester do...I never wanted that..."

They looked at Chester. "What else are they having you do, Chester?" Corrine asked softly.

He looked back at them, the feelings of guilt and humiliation rising as if Yvette herself were in the room. "I...I'm supposed to tell them what Roxie is up to...or they'll hurt Catherine even more." He paused. "She's supposed to tell them as well. If our stories don't match they'll hurt her."

It was Roxie's turn to get angry. "Fucking Millard! Who the fuck does he think he is!" Her face began to match her hair. Chester thought she looked like a bright scarlet angry...fairy. He smiled briefly at the vision. "Catherine. Pictures. What about pictures? And...can you show me what he did to you?"

"What?" Chester interrupted. "Do you really think that's necessary?"

"It's okay, Chester." Catherine looked up at Roxie. "It's okay. Yeah. It's okay." She turned around, looking at Corrine before rolling onto her stomach on the bed, her legs falling off the edge. Reaching back she lifted her skirt above her waist and peeled down her underwear to the tops of her thighs. "He took pictures. He's threatening to expose me on Tumblr..." She sobbed quietly.

June gasped at the bruising on Catherine's cheeks. "Oh. My. God," she whispered, her hands to her mouth.

Her cheeks were black and blue, with a spiderweb of broken blood vessels. Corrine put her hand down gently on Catherine's skin, lightly tracing the bruises. "That's got to hurt," she said quietly.

"It's not so bad right now. My rectum is a little sore," she said ruefully. "Chester is...maybe too big." She pulled her panties back up and dropped her skirt, rolling up to sitting.

"We can't let this go on." Corrine again, looking at Catherine and then Roxie. "This is completely unacceptable."

"Yeah, but campus police won't do anything about it..." Roxie was still pacing, thinking hard. "Besides, Chester might be implicated as an accomplice. And it won't stop him from publishing..."

He moaned softly at the idea of being implicated in the situation. He was just doing what Catherine asked!

She turned to Catherine. "When do they expect you to report back?"

"Not 'til tomorrow. Mondays and Thursdays. Something about the house schedule."

"Movie night and Bowling. Mandatory socials," Chester clarified. "No one's supposed to be there."

"And what if you don't make it?"

"I hate to think what they'd do to me." Catherine hugged herself, Corrine's hand massaged her back. "They've told me what would happen. I've never tested them. Not to mention the photographs." She shivered and started to cry again.

Roxie scrunched her lips and turned back to pacing. "Catherine, you weren't here. You didn't see us, you didn't talk to us, you aren't going back there. You're done with them. Millard is dangerous and John is a sadist. Done. Got it?"




Making a Woman of Him Ch. 12



Catherine looked up at Roxie, scared. She nodded, not certain what would happen.

"Catherine, we should tend to those injuries." Corrine's voice was soothing. "June. Why don't you and I help her? There's nothing more comforting than a hot cup of tea and warm bath. Come on." She motioned to June and the two of them walked Catherine out of the room, chatting with her about school and her upcoming summer plans.

"Jesus, Chester. This is pretty fucked up, isn't it?" Roxie sat on the bed staring at his closet doors.

He sat silently, thinking about Catherine's powerlessness. The image of Yvette, lording his weakness over him, rose up and he remembered the letter.

"Shit, Roxie. I...shit."

She looked at him, concerned. "What?"

"I...Yvette sent me a letter last week. I just got it. She's coming here. Sunday." He pointed to the letter on his desk.

"No fucking way. No." She shook her head, her hands coming to his face. "That's awful! How long will she be here?"

He shook his head and shrugged. Her touch made him feel better. "I feel kinda like Catherine...in a way." He backpedaled a little. "I mean, she never beat me like Millard did, but...you know..."

Roxie stopped breathing for a second. "You know," she mused, "from what you've told me about her, she and Millard are birds of a feather...maybe..." She stopped, looked at him and smiled. She reached forward and kissed him. Hard. "Just maybe..."

He had no idea what came over her, but she pushed him down on the bed and reached for his belt buckle.



Making a Woman of Him Ch. 13



"I just had the most marvelous idea, Chester. And it has made my little pussy so hot and bothered for you." Before he could say a word, she had stripped his slacks down and taken his cock in her hands. "You and Catherine are a lot alike," she looked up at him before kissing his penis. Taking his head into her mouth she ran her tongue all around it and slipped it out between her lips, forcing a moan from him.

"Frankly," she continued, running her thumb idly over his expanding shaft. "I don't have a lot of sympathy for her." She reached down again, pushing his cock into her mouth but not into her throat, sliding it back out against the inside of her cheeks.

"What???" He couldn't understand why she would feel so callous to her.

"Oh." She looked at him, realizing he was shocked. "No. Please. Don't get me wrong. I do feel sorry for her. Millard is a psycho...and that's what's gotten the idea into my head. But Catherine does want it. You saw how willing she was to show us her bruises? What do you suppose Corrine and June are doing with her right now?" She looked at him with a wicked gleam and returned her attention to his rising cock.

"What." He couldn't imagine anything other than the three of them drinking tea and taking a bath.

"And...did you seriously shove that monster of yours up her ass?" She smiled, staring at his cock getting hard in front of her nose. "She must have screamed loud enough for the neighboring house to hear." She gobbled it into her mouth, moving her head to get the best possible angle. Slowly she slipped it past her gag reflex, feeling it enter her throat. 

He didn't understand how she could enjoy what she was doing. The sounds of her gagging and the drool he felt streaming onto his testicles would have made him concerned, except for how wonderful it felt. Not like being inside her vagina, the memory of that made him close his eyes and pulse his peter, but the warm wetness of her tongue and how it moved against him was wonderful. He was distracted by her comments – Catherine wanting Millard, and him, to hurt her? What were Corrine and June doing to her right now?

"What...do...you...think...they're...doing?" He could only get the words out in between the intensity of her attention.

She slipped off him, wrapping her hand around his shaft, squeezing it until he winced a little. "Right now, Chester, I imagine Corrine and June have stripped old Cate of all her clothes, drawn her a bath, as promised, and likely are giving her a bit more cleaning than she had expected." She looked at his confused expression and giggled. "They have a little stash of medical equipment in their bathroom cubbies, when they don't use it on themselves, they often share it with some of the other girls. Catherine is a particularly willing patient, I believe." She just shook her head at his lack of understanding and kissed his cock head. "Maybe when we're done here, we'll take a little trip to the bath room."

He moaned again as she slipped him down into his throat and back up again. Down, drool, gag, up, gag,!pop! as she slipped him out of her lips. "You know," she commented, slipping his blouse up to his neck, exposing his nipples. "The more I think about it, you two are more alike than not. Subs."

He was about to protest when she stood up, slipped her pants down and exposed her flaming red bush to him. "Before you put that monster in me, I think I need to get a little wetter. You've eaten a girl before, right Chester?" She put her knees on the bed on either side of him and walked her slit up to his head, holding it just above his mouth.

He looked up past her bush, past the tips of her breasts to see her eyes glistening, expectant, the hair on top of her head merging with the hair just above his mouth. He nodded, smelling her again, spices and grass. He reached up and kissed her lips, moving his tongue into her.

"Mmm, that's the ticket Chester. But you don't have to work so hard. Just rest back and let Roxie ride you." She turned herself around so she could face his cock, moved her thighs and rested her slit down onto his mouth, pushing hard against him, his nose buried in the muscle between her vagina and her anus. He pushed his tongue in again, this time tasting her, exploring her, wanting her to use him for her pleasure. He thought he might be falling in love. She shifted again, her butt rising up a little, her mouth returning to his cock. Feeling her surround him, he pushed his tongue into her in rhythm with her sliding him down her throat.

Time passed, he got lost in the sounds of her vagina squishing around him, the moans and gags coming from somewhere else, the idea that he and Catherine were a lot alike. He didn't know what she meant by 'Subs,' but kept working his lips and tongue against her, trying to clean her out as June had taught him. In this position, he couldn't lick her clit; he brought his hands up, trying to slip his fingers in between his chin and her vagina but the way she was lying made it impossible.

She moved her hips, sliding off of him slowly rising up. "yessss, hmmmm mmmm. I think I'm ready for you to fuck me, Chester. Would you like to fuck me?" She looked down to see his little-boy face, glistening with her juices, his eyes wide, looking all the world like she was offering him a fortune. "What do you say, Chester?" She said it kindly, but expected an answer.

"Yes, please. Roxie, would you let me fuck you?" He had a sense of déjà vu, the feeling he had been asking her already washing through him.

She smiled, thinking how this might just work into a wonderful relationship, and in a few moments she gasped, pushing herself onto him slowly, until she had reached bottom. It was different from the night before – maybe because of the position, maybe because he wasn't as hard. She couldn't explain it, but she was more than satisfied, slipping up and then down again, rubbing her nub against his belly, her breasts, still behind her shirt, along his chest. The thought of what his sister had done to him sparked a rush of feelings and in a final push, she rammed him into her, pushing down on his pelvis with her hips and vibrated. "GODDD! I can't believe it! I can't believe it. Fuck." She sat up for a moment and then collapsed onto him, her liquid oozing, her face next to his.

He lay beneath her, completely confused. It had taken her less than five minutes. He rubbed his hands across her back, slipping them under her shirt to feel her naked skin. He was just as happy not ejaculating – his peter was hard, but not painful. Her vagina was wet and warm, the silky feeling as she pulsed around him reminding of his first time the night before. He closed his eyes feeling their heartbeats.

"What do you mean, 'Subs?'" It was several minutes later, their heart rate returning to a semblance of normal. His hands still rested on her naked back.

"Submissives," she said softly, her fingers playing with his hair. "It's a sexual power relationship. You and Catherine prefer to be with dominant partners. It's how you get off."

He wondered if that were true, although everything he'd ever felt about being with Yvette was based on her humiliating him and ordering him around. He tried to think of a time where he hadn't been ordered to do whatever he had done. Even the other night with June and Corrine and their health class. He sighed, "I suppose you're right."

"It's not something to be concerned about, Chester! I think it's adorable. You can be my submissive any time!" She reached back to fondle him, squeezing his balls softly. "Would you like to see what they're doing to Catherine?" She rose up on her elbows, the light in her eyes enough to convince him she wanted to see.

He shrugged, letting her pull him off the bed, letting her pull off the rest of his clothes and letting her drag him down the hall to the bathrooms. The actual "bath" room was a closed area off to the sides of the shower. No one else was around as they approached the closed door.

"Knock knock. You there?" Roxie lightly tapped on the door.

"Come in!" It was Corrine. "Whoa!" she looked at the two of them, clearly just having had sex. "Do you want to help Catherine?"

Chester looked into the room, expecting to see her lying in the bathtub. Instead, June was on the edge of the bathtub, her legs spread open. Catherine was naked, on her hands and knees, her mouth on June's naked slit, a tube pushed up into her rectum. An empty bag hung on a medical stand. "What....are you doing...to her?" He noticed cream had been spread on her bruises, her buttocks whiter than her thighs.

Catherine reacted to them arriving, but June kept her head pressed against her. "Shhh...that's it...just lick right there. You're doing fine. It's what you want, right?" She brushed her hair with her fingers, speaking to her soothingly, but obviously keeping her trapped against her slit. June looked at Chester's dick, half hanging, and at Roxie, half dressed, her bush peeking out from her blouse. "Fucking wonderful," she murmured, pushing against Catherine's head.

"She's almost ready," Corrine said, looking at the empty bag. "Just one more, right Catherine?"

The woman seemed to protest, shaking her head side to side, but her words were buried in June's pussy.

"I thought four, as usual, but given her recent trauma, we're keeping it to three." Corrine unhooked the bag, the tube locked in place by a metal clamp, turned to the bathtub and filled it with water. Rehooking it up, she watched as it gurgled down into Catherine's intestines.

"Hoooohhh, that's so nice, Corrine. She is definitely needing that." June held her tight, pushing her hard against her sex as Catherine tried to struggle. Her moans were muffled.

Corrine made sure the tube was tight inside her, and then reached around to feel her belly. "Here, Chester. Feel this. It's how Catherine needs to be cleaned." She brought his hand around, brushing it against Catherine's pubic hair, until she pressed it on her belly. He felt the skin, taught and extended, vibrations from gas bubbles or water transmitted to his finger. "Here," she said, her hand against his, "she wants you to push on it a little." She pushed his hand against her belly; it felt like a water balloon. Catherine tried to move away, shoving her mouth deeper into June's cunt.

When he stood back up, Corrine ran her fingers down his front, curling them around his peter. "Would you mind?" She turned to Roxie, raising her eyebrows.

The other woman smiled, delighted. "It won't take him long. He didn't cum."

"Ahhh, too bad. Chester? I'm going to give you a blow job. As soon as you cum in my throat, we'll let Catherine empty herself. Okay?"

He just shook his head, not understanding. Before he could answer, she knelt down and began to slip his peter into her mouth. "Just one thing," she said, stopping. "If you were a true gentleman, you would let June cum first. She is so close, poor thing." He looked over at June, her hands pushing on Catherine's head, her backside squished on the bathtub rim, her eyes closed. He thought he could hear her humming over the noise Catherine was making between her legs.

"Here goes. It's a race. Whoever cums first, wins." She slipped her mouth over him and began pistoning, moving her fingers over his sac, up to his anus, her tongue whipsawing up and down on him. It wasn't like what the others had done to him and he didn't know how long he would last. He closed his eyes, the sensation on his peter overwhelming. He rested his hands on Corrine's head, the motion combining with her actions on his erection starting to push him over the top.

"Ohhhhhh...noooo....I...I'm...I'm...not...please..." He looked at June, feeling bad she wasn't going to cum first and then he lost it, the sensations too strong to resist. "I'm cumming!" He shouted as he felt relief for the first time that day. He thought about that briefly as his cum burst into Corrine's mouth. First time this day? I used to wait a month. The thought of his cum going into someone's mouth was apparently commonplace for him now as well. Three days ago it would have made him gag.

Corrine finished cleaning him off, smacking her lips and giving his balls a squeeze before standing back up. "Okay, Catherine. You're 'off the hook' as it were. Too bad for you, June. Perhaps Chester can help?" She looked at him, raising an eyebrow.

The thought of tasting June again sent a jolt up his spine. He loved her taste. But the thought of eating her after Catherine had her mouth on her stopped him. 

"Go for it, Chester. She needs you." Roxie gently pushed her hand on his shoulder, suggesting he should kneel down.

Corrine had pulled Catherine away, shuffling her back to a toilet at the end of the room. "Stand up slowly, Catherine. I don't want you to have to clean up any mess."

He knelt down in front of June for the third time in as many days, her vagina redder than he remembered it. Her inner leaves were dark and shiny, whether from Catherine's saliva or June's lubricants, he couldn't tell. Her aroma was intoxicating, drawing him closer. He pushed his nose against her, inhaling deeply before pulling back. 

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Catherine carefully squatting over the toilet and then he heard the sploosh of water gushing out of her. He couldn't stand it, preferring to bury himself in June's wide open slit. "Yes, Chester!" She grabbed his head, pulling him against her. "Like the other night. Shove that beautiful tongue in me."

He knew he was blushing – he didn't know what Roxie would think about their time together; he was grateful his face was hidden by June's belly and thighs. The sound of his tongue lapping at her along with her cries and moans drowned out whatever was happening with Catherine. Even though his jaw was tired from being with Roxie not 30 minutes before, June's taste was so inviting he ignored the pain, hoping to help her release. When she seemed to be getting close, her hands pressing harder against him, he shifted upward slightly, like she had enjoyed the other night, his lips finding her clit and clamping down. He was rewarded by her thighs clamping against him, her cries of pleasure getting louder until she just seemed to keen for a minute straight. 

He gulped in breath through his nose, his mouth trapped against her smooth skin, the smell of her orgasm lighting him up. He could feel his peter rising again – he didn't think it was possible. Finally, she let him go and he sank back onto his heels, her legs spread open on the edge of the bathtub, vagina swollen and exposed.

Corrine was helping Catherine get to the bathtub, her face calmer now. He stared at her pubic hair – so thick and black, matted with sweat, as she stepped over the rim of the bathtub. June turned around, lifting her leg over him and slipped in with her, her feet at Catherine's head. "You guys going to join us?" June slipped her foot between Catherine's legs, smiling up at them.

Suddenly Catherine looked up in alarm. "But what about Millard?" She moved so quickly water spilled up over the tub.

"Shhhh," Roxie, calmed her. "I've got it covered. I called the worm earlier today. You're fine. It's fine."



Making a Woman of Him Ch. 14



"Listen up ladies," Corrine struck a knife against her water glass, looking around the table. "It seems we have a problem."

It was Thursday night, Corrine had called a mandatory council dinner. Everyone was there, including Catherine. Chester could see she was agitated at the prospect of her disobedience to Millard and John.

The noise quieted down, all faces looking at Corrine.

"Catherine...well, Catherine has gotten herself into something a little deeper than is good for her. Or, should I say, she's put something deeper in her than is good for her?" Corrine smiled at her play on words.

They all turned to look at Catherine, her head shaking, red-faced.

"And Chester...well, it seems Chester's past has caught up with him." She paused, looking at Chester with a matronizing expression. "To make matters a little more complicated, the young pups, Millard and John, have been a bit more pit bull than French poodle. So, we're going to have to stage an intervention."

Several of the women turned their heads to look between Catherine and Chester, not sure where to pay attention, their curiosity exploding.

"What sort of intervention?"

"Who?"

"When?"

Corrine looked around, smiling thinly. "Well, that's what we wanted to chat about. We had some ideas, but we thought you all might be able to help."

Corrine explained some of the specifics, talking over the gasps and protests from some of the women as they comprehended what Catherine had agreed to. Chester kept his eyes focused on her, trying to ignore the questioning looks. He knew he was blushing, but his biggest concern was the reaction from his peter. Why would it pop up at a time like this? 

The suggestions started to fly about what to do. 

"Well, when Roger is a bad boy, we do a little B-mod, if you know what I mean," Darla said coyly.

"No, Darla, we don't. Perhaps you could be specific?"

She blushed, but everyone knew she enjoyed talking about Roger – he humiliated her plenty when he was in the house and she used these as opportunities to get back at him. "So, he absolutely hates it when I don't let him...ummm...you know...cum? So, when he's been particularly annoying, I make sure he's pretty worked up, and then, well, I leave him hanging...so to speak. He doesn't repeat whatever it is very soon after – blue balls apparently lasts a while..."

Lucinda chimed in. "Yeah, I've noticed him being sheepish every now and then – that's cold, Darla. But I've got to admit I've used the same approach on a few guys. It sounds like these two are real freaks of nature, though, right? In my Human Sexuality class last semester they talked about how symmetries in sexual practices – like voyeurs are equally likely to be exhibitionists, or doms and subs often switch roles...like that...."

"What's your point, Lucinda?" June hated how she lectured all the time.

"I'm just saying, if Millard and John are so into these power roles – they would likely respond to having it done to them, right?"

"And?" It was Roxie's turn to push her along, already well familiar with Millard's role switching.

"So, I guess it would be a small shift to move them from Dom to Sub under the right circumstances..."

Chester saw Corrine's eyes dart to Roxie's and June's and all of them quickly looking at him and Catherine. He couldn't figure out what was going on, simply eating in silence as the chatter continued around the table.

Roxie pulled him aside after dinner, the group agreeing on their next steps for Millard and John.

"Have you given any more thought to what you're going to do about your sister?"

He just shook his head, his eyes searching hers for any hope. "No. Whatever she is planning, it'll be awful for me. I'm certain of it." He had been imagining what Yvette would be thinking, but he'd never successfully figured it out before – she always seemed to push the envelope beyond anything he'd thought up.

"Oh, c'mon Chester. It's not that hard." They were sitting in her room – a single, like his, but without all of Wendy's pinks and fluff. "She just enjoys humiliating you. And you seem to respond to it, so she keeps doing it." 

He sat on her bed watching as she puttered around the room, straightening, getting her homework together. 

"But," she stopped, looking at him, "it sounds like she's into a little bit more than just public humiliation, right? Control. She really sounds like a control freak." She looked over his shoulder, staring into the distance, thinking. "I'm going to get out of these clothes – you don't mind, yeah?"

He shrugged – it didn't seem to matter what he minded. But the thought she might care about his opinion was sweet. 

"For example," she continued as she unbuttoned her blouse. "She'd just as soon have you kneeling on the floor right now, right?" She stopped, two fingers pinching her blouse closed. 

He blushed at the thought, and how she had nailed Yvette. "Yes," he said quietly, waiting.

"She'd probably do something like this – let me know if I've got it right: 'Chester, you little scoundrel! What are you doing in my room?! The scandal! Sitting on my bed and watching me undress! That just isn't a proper thing for a boy to do, is it?'" Roxie smiled slightly, letting the blouse placket swing open. 

He could see the lace of her bra. He smiled thinly at her impersonation. "Close," he said. 

"'But you're not a boy, are you? No! You're a girl! So, I suppose it's okay. But I'm still wondering what you're doing here. Were you going to jack off watching me?'? Roxie slipped the blouse off and put it on a hanger. "'That's it, isn't it? You wanted to jack off watching me undress. Well...who's stopping you?'" 

Her expression had changed slightly – a little harder, her smile gone. He shivered a little and nodded. "That's closer to the real thing." He was getting confused.

"Well?" She motioned to the ground in between them, as she reached back to undo her bra. "Do it." 

He felt the same jolt up his spine he remembered from Yvette. A feeling of powerlessness, of compliance. He almost jumped from the bed, but held back, confused. "What...? What...are...you...Are you asking me to masturbate in front of you?" He felt his hands begin to move on their own, unbuttoning his shirt. What was wrong with him? What was with her???!

She ignored him, taking off her bra and throwing into the hamper. Her breasts jiggled slightly. "'You're the one who crept in here to watch me. It's up to you.'" She turned to look at him, her eyes going to the ground, a silent demand.

He shook his head slowly, his eyes filling with liquid. "No, Roxie. Please. I...it's...you're scaring me a little." What was scaring him was how much she had begun to sound like Yvette, and even worse, how much he wanted to do what she was demanding. "I'll do whatever you want, but don't...not like that." He brushed the back of his hand across his eyes to clear them.

She turned to face him, slipping her slacks down along with her panties. "Shhh....it's okay, Chester. It's okay. I'm sorry." She tossed her underwear into the hamper and hung the slacks on a hanger. "I was just trying to figure her out. Did I get it right?"

He realized he had been holding his breath and let it out, relaxing. To his shock, he could feel his penis hardening and shook his head. 

"It's okay, Ches. Seriously." She had noticed the tenting at his crotch. "I told you. You're a sub. You want to do this stuff. It's just the way that Yvette does it is cruel. She's just looking out for herself. Here. Let's try it a different way – you'll see."

She took a couple of steps toward him, her naked body fully exposed, legs spread, her hands on her hips. "Chester?" She waited for him to answer.

He was momentarily confused by her rapid shift. He felt a pulse in his penis. "Yes?" 

"I know you would like to eat my pussy, right?" 

Standing there, she looked...powerful. But naked and exposed, she looked...inviting. He looked up at her face – she wasn't stern, but she wasn't smiling. She was waiting. "Yes?"

"Well, either you do or you don't. Which is it?" The tone was teasing, but the demand was clear.

"I...do." He looked down at the bright red hair and knew where she was leading him.

"I would appreciate it if you would take that beautiful tongue of yours and make me cum. Do you think you're up to it?"

He unconsciously licked his lips, his head barely nodding.

"That would be great," she said, invitingly. "Here's the thing, though. I need you to strip naked and get on your knees. You'll do that for me, right?"

He didn't take his eyes off her face, as his fingers continued to unbutton his blouse. Peeling it off, he stood up, unfastening his slacks. He knew he would be on his knees in a moment; he knew he would shuffle over to her and do whatever she asked of him. He knew it, because she was right. He needed whatever she was doing to him...just like he had needed Yvette.

"That's it, sweetheart. Mmmm...your hands on my ass feel so great...yeah, unh huhn...dig your tongue a LITtle...ohhh...deeper. Yes! Suck my cunt, Chester. That's it, suck my juices out of me like a tropical fruit. That's it baby. Keep it up. Keep it up."

But as he worked his way into her wet lips, his tongue slipping as deeply into her as he could manage, he realized she wasn't anything like Yvette. He would do this for her because she asked. Because it gave her pleasure. He would do this for her because he wanted to give her pleasure.

* - * - * - *

"Yvette is so done with you," they were lying together in her bed, his peter hard. She hadn't cum, at least not standing up. She'd made him follow her around the room, his knees hurt a little from the carpet, until she sat on the bed and he was finally able to give her release. His peter had been so hard the whole time, but she wouldn't let him ejaculate. 

He just stared at her face. "How?"

"Just like Millard is so done with me and Catherine," she smiled but he couldn't quite understand the expression on her face. "You are a beautiful girl, Chester. I've taken a shine to you." Her hand drifted to his chest, feeling the smooth skin, keeping him aroused.

"How is Yvette so done with me?"

She put her finger to his lips and reached over to turn off the light. "Go to sleep, Chester. You've had a very hard night and you need your beauty rest." To emphasize the point she wrapped her hand around his erection and held him until they had both fallen asleep.

* - * - * - *

"So, here's the plan." Roxie looked across the breakfast table at the three of them. "Yvette comes in on Sunday, right?" 

Chester nodded.

"And she'll likely expect you to show her your house, the school, your room, your hard dick." She didn't stop, watching him nodding uncomfortably. "But we're not going to let that happen, right ladies?"

June and Corrine exchanged glances. When Roxie got into one of her moods, it was best to just let her run out of steam rather than attempt to participate. "Sure!" June said, enthusiastically. "How?"

Roxie smiled indulgently. "Here's the way it's going to play out: Chester will bring her over to the men's house, as she would expect, but after showing her his room, and hopefully avoiding any contact with The Two Dicks, he'll surprise her by bringing her over here." She took a spoonful of cereal, leaving the impression she'd made everything clear.

"Uhh, c'mon honey," Corrine wasn't going to play. "You know you aren't done. What's the plan?"

Roxie smiled an 'I'm fucking with you smile' and continued. As Chester listened to her plan, he realized he would have to do and say things to Yvette he'd never done before. He squeaked in protest at one point and they all three looked over at him, their eyes raised.

"I...I'm not so sure..."

"Well, you better be," Roxie said dismissively and continued explaining.

He looked over at the other two women who, nodding and smiling, seemed to think it would work just fine.

As Roxie explained, the idea dawned on him that maybe he really could be rid of his step-sister...for good. He turned it over in his head, the feeling of release, of freedom creeping into his thoughts. It occurred to him how much of a burden it had been, even though, a week before, he hadn't thought of it consciously.

It scared him a little too. The thought he might be who he was because of Yvette's power over him and not because it was what he truly wanted. He looked down at his clothes and looked back at his life the past few years, wondering if dressing as a woman was so important. His eyes watered at the thought. He felt as if he were standing on a cliff.

"It'll be okay, Chester!" Roxie looked over at him with concern. "You can do it!"

He pressed his lips together in a tight smile. "It's not that. I mean, I don't know if I'll be able to do it or not...but...it's just..." he waved his hands around his body, trying to explain how much of him was tied up in Yvette's control.

They all looked at him questioningly, not comprehending. Roxie got up and stood behind him, her hands on his shoulders. "It'll be okay. Really. We'll be there almost the entire time." 

He looked up at her, a tear overflowing onto his cheek, realizing she still didn't understand his concern.

"Hey! It's getting late!"

"What time is it?" Corrine looked at her watch. "Fuck! I've got to get going!"

They scattered up the stairs, leaving him alone with his thoughts and worries. "It'll be okay," he said to himself, the memory of Roxie's fingers on his shoulder. "Sure it will," but he didn't feel any more confident hearing the words.

* - * - * - *

He might as well not have gone to class with the amount of attention he was paying. Matheson, his PolySchi prof just looked at him funny each time he failed to even raise his hand, let alone participate in the discussion.

Luckily he only had two classes, back to back, early in the day. He usually reserved Friday for completing as much homework as possible, and seeing how horrible the weekend would likely be, he desperately wanted to get started. He raced to the library, hoping to find a quiet corner where no one from the women's house would interrupt him, or take of their clothes, or kneel down and swallow his peter. He shook off the feeling beginning to grow in him and found a study carrel.

He liked the cluster of carrels in this corner of the building. Facing a forest, he could look up and out of the plate glass to contemplate his reading and get lost in nature. While he thought it was idyllic he found it odd so few others claimed the carrels around him. In the several months he'd come here, only a handful of times had he encountered any other students, and never anyone he knew. 

As he read, he could hear the shrrrshrring of whispered conversation, coming from somewhere behind him. It happened every once in a while, and it usually didn't bother him, but this time it seemed to go on, and at times the voices sounded heated...or emotional. He couldn't quite make out the words, but the tone seemed different from the usual snickering or casual conversation.

Completely distracted by it, he quietly got up to stretch and looked around. There was no one in sight in any of the carrels and he couldn't see through the stacks behind him. Cautiously, not wanting to cause a fuss, he walked toward the sounds. Peeking around the shelves into the first aisle he saw it was deserted, but the whispering was a little louder, punctuated by some other noise he couldn't quite make out. 

There were two more aisles before the back wall of the room. Quietly he looked into the next aisle and again found it deserted. The sounds were becoming louder – either because he was closer or whoever it was was getting more animated. The words weren't much clearer, but he could tell it was a man and a woman, and they seemed to be arguing.

Too curious to let it go, he crept to the edge of the last shelves. Looking back to the carrels, confirming he was still alone, he drifted his left eye around the shelf. To his relief, he saw it was Roxie, and then he saw who she was arguing with – Millard! Immediately he was confused. Millard was on his knees, his face pushed in between her legs, her pants and underwear pushed to her feet.

He pulled back and suppressed a gasp, her words now clear to him.

"That's it you cunt-licker. Stick your face deep into my taco, you sick fuck," she hissed. 

Chester's heart raced; he felt the warmth of a blush on his face. Thoughts warred with each other - Why can't I just get my studying done? And How could she still be seeing him, after what she said to me!

"You think you have power over me? You think you can hurt my friends just because I'm calling it quits? This is the last time you're going to taste my sweet little pussy, Millard. Look at me when I'm talking to you, douche-bag!"

Even though her voice was barely above a whisper, Chester could hear the flood of words pouring out of her. Pictures. Catherine. Her own pictures. Of him. And John. Ruining him. The sound of his slurping increased as she laid into him, as if her threats only aroused him further. The power of her voice resonated through Chester, no matter what it was doing to Millard. He could feel himself getting hard, quieting a moan before it escaped his throat.



Making a Woman of Him Ch. 15



 [Author's note: not a lot of sex in this chapter, but it had to be written for the story to "hang" together. Hopefully it's a quick read, even if it doesn't get you off.]




"Hey little brother!" Yvette unfolded herself from the cab and reached out to him as if she was a war bride greeting her returning hero. 

He smiled weakly, allowing her to embrace him. He felt her breasts push against him and he shivered a little. Her hands drifted down to the small of his back, pushing him against her, but he didn't resist.

"Is this how you greet your sister after all these years? Chester! Is there something the matter?" She held him away from her to stare at him, scanning him from head to toe. They were standing outside the Men's house – he had been fidgeting all morning waiting for her – and now he felt as if he were sliding down a waterfall, unable to stop the flow of events. The confidence June, Corrine and Roxie had tried to instill in him the prior week was flowing away as well; he was sinking under her spell. "Well?" Her voice snapped him back.

"No. No, Yvette. Everything's just fine. I'm just a little tired, is all. Please, come in and let me show you around. I'm sure you're very curious about what I've been up to."

As they walked up the stairs to the front door, she complimented him on his choice of outfit and suggested he should model something for her. He nodded grimly, opening the door and showing her through the foyer. She never stopped her stream of consciousness and it occurred to him that perhaps she was nervous as well – a thought that had never crossed his mind until just then. He entertained the possibility he was growing up and maybe the women were right. Maybe he could do this. 

His confidence bolstered, he ushered her to his room and made a place for her bags.

"So," she said, looking around as if she were in a TB ward. "Is this the best they can do?" She sat on the edge of his chair, confirming there wasn't something squiggly that might jump out at her.

"How has the tour been?" He deflected her comments.

As she chirped about this and that, about Lyssa's success here or a great exhibition there, he began to sense desperation in her voice. He tried to stay as neutral as he could, listening patiently, looking engaged to keep her talking, but it kept coming up. Something was definitely wrong and she was trying to hide it.

"Okay, enough chit chat. I can see you're deep into your studies and haven't much to offer me in turn, so perhaps you could be kind enough to show me some of the items Lyssa and I have been sending you?" She sat back, expectantly.

"I would love to, Yvette." He tried to make it sound convincing, even though he neither felt anything of the sort, and per Roxie's plan, he could do nothing of the sort. "But I have a small confession to make."

She looked at him, eyebrows raised, waiting.

"For the past week or so, I've not been living here – so most of my things aren't here to model. But before we go to my current room," he held up his hand slightly as she started to interrupt, "I'd like to show you around a little more, if that's alright?" This part he was able to get through without sounding forced.

A little miffed at him, she accepted the explanation. "My, aren't you getting assertive. Well, I suppose that's what college is for. Still I don't expect you to forget all of your manners or what I taught you." She proffered her cheek, as if she were some royalty.

He shuddered, silently giving thanks that her eyes were closed and couldn't see him, and leaned forward to kiss her lightly. Her hand moved down to his groin and gripped his penis inside his slacks forcing him to hold still.

"Now you listen to me, you little freak show. I don't know what you've got brewing, but I know this: you're hiding something and before the day is out, you will be honest with me. Do you understand you little fucker?" Her voice was quiet, dripping with menace, but oddly the words didn't frighten him. He waited, smiling thinly out of her line of sight, until she released him. He stroked his penis lightly trying to massage the pain away and stood up.

"Let's go," he said quietly, picking up her bags. "It's just a block away."

Walking through the campus wasn't nearly as embarrassing as he had expected her to make it. She played the visiting relative act to a "T," asking polite questions about various buildings, stopping to smell a rose in a planter, noting the sculpture in front of the Library. It all appeared so thoroughly normal, he began to wonder if he'd imagined her outburst in his room. The faint pain from his groin, however, wasn't imaginary – a constant reminder of how important it was to play this out perfectly. 

When they arrived in front of the Women's house, she stopped him, one hand on his arm, the other to her mouth. "Holy Mary, mother of God," she gasped. "You've got to be fucking kidding me!" 

He blushed at her reaction, even though there was no one around and he could have predicted it, in fact had predicted it. Still his body betrayed him, especially to Yvette.

"You've been here how long?" 

"About a week." He tried to breathe normally.

"It's too perfect. Too fucking perfect. Please, show me your room!" She clapped her hands lightly and shooed him up the stairs.

Once again in his room, she found a seat and suggested she would love a fashion show.

"I was thinking, Yvette," he said, stalling her again. "On the way over here, maybe you'd like to have me model some of Lyssa's work to the other women in the house. They've not seen much of what you've sent over – I try to wear only the day-to-day things, which," he added conspiratorially, "is already over their heads. What do you think?"

Her eyes brightened at the idea. "Why Chester, here I was thinking you were hiding something, and you were! What a great idea, and what a great surprise! May I help you pick out the wardrobe?"

"Would you like to see the rest of the house first, or....?" 

"No. No. Let's figure out what you're going to show off. You know how much you like it." She stood and joined him at the closet, helping him pull boxes off the shelf.

"Now Chester, there's something we need to chat about before the day gets much older." She used a tone he hadn't remember hearing before and it frightened him a little. "Are you completely familiar with the terms of your trust fund?"

He froze. It was about money. His money. She needed money. The European tour hadn't gone well and she'd blown her inheritance. Now she was after his. Even though she didn't say anything of the sort, the entire scheme became obvious to him in that one question she asked. He continued pulling clothes out of the closet and looked at her a little quizzically.

"No?" She waited a hearbeat. "Well, let me tell you. Your mother, bless her heart, set aside two sets of funds for you: a college fund to be used only while you were in school, the remainder, if any provided as a stipend after graudation, and a second fund, only provided to you upon your graduation. Nobody told you about this? Arthur never mentioned it?"

Arthur, the family attorney had in fact told him all about it, but he was waiting to see where she was heading.

"Chester, your mother wasn't the saint you make her out to be...now, don't interrupt me. Let me tell you some of the details of that second fund – a couple of...qualifications, shall we say, beyond graduating. For starters, you need to be of 'sound mind and body.' Do you think you're of sound mind and body, Chester? Do you think Arthur would consider you of sound mind and body?" She looked around the coral hued room, to the clothes he was wearing and holding and looked back at him.

He was aware of the clause. Arthur had suggested it was standard language – he had also suggested it was a difficult test to fail – Chester would practically have to be institutionalized, according to Arthur's account. Still, he waited patiently for Yvette to get to her point.

"Your mother loved you dearly, Chester. She had a second clause in there as well: You must be engaged to be married before the funds can be released. Isn't that just too much? Engaged. To. Be. Married! Your mother, what a dear!" 

Yvette's laughter was like breaking glass. He winced.

"I know. It really hurts to think your own mother would write that in, but you can check it for yourself – it's there." She sat back on the chair, waiting for him to respond.

"I...uh...I don't know what to say, Yvette. What are you driving at? I'm not ready to get married – I've got enough saved up to live without that second fund, and when I'm ready, I suppose I'll get married."

"But Chester! Isn't it obvious? Nobody would marry a kook like you! Not only that, but just being a kook is enough to disqualify. No, my poor little brother, and I do mean poor, because without that fund, you've got precious little, don't you? No – here's the nail in the coffin, dear brother – if you don't qualify for that second fund within a year of graduating, it reverts back to Daddy. And he decides what to do with it." She stared out the window, avoiding his eyes, as if it pained her to offer this horrible news. She sighed, her hands folded neatly on her lap.

Arthur had in fact counseled Chester on all of these terms and conditions, along with many more that Yvette was either unaware of or purposely leaving unstated, but it didn't matter. He just needed to keep her talking for a few more minutes.

"What are you saying, Yvette?" He said trying to do his best to sound as if he were choking back the words. "You're the one who made me this way!"

"Oh stop the pity party, Chester! We've been down this road too many times before. You are the way you are. I just freed you to not be so twisted and closeted. Don't even think about going there with this. One way or another, before you see another red cent of that little trust fund you're going to have to go through me."

He made a show of being intimidated, swallowing and widening his eyes slightly. "What do you mean, 'one way or another?'"

"It's really simple, isn't it? For a college student you're kind of thick. Let me spell it out for you:

1. If you continue to behave this way, I'll get you certified as crazy. If that doesn't work, I'll make it impossible for anyone to want to marry you. In either case, you're out of luck seeing that money

2. If you suddenly stop being a transvestite, or homo, or whatever the fuck you are, I'll simply show the world all of the wonderful photographs we have together. It'll be clear to the court your latter-day transformation is merely a ruse to avoid disqualification.

3. Or, we can avoid all that unpleasantness, and you and I can meet with Arthur to draw up a transfer of funds – we'll get you married off to some gold digger, you hand over your funds, and I agree to give you an allowance

"You see? It's not that difficult to understand."

He worked hard at forcing tears to his eyes, he had dug his nails into his hands while she was talking. "You can't, Yvette! You wouldn't! That's not fair!" He choked the words out, bringing his hands to his face to wipe the tears away.

"Oh grow up and grow a couple already, Chester! This is exactly what I'm saying: you aren't fit to receive this money your mother had left for you. Face the facts! Now, let's put this unpleasantness aside for a little bit and let me see you put on a nice show for the girls!"

He looked around, letting her believe he was panicked and trying to find a "way out." She tsked and demanded he pull himself together, until he felt he had played the part to its proper conclusion. Resigned to her threats, he gathered up the clothes, surprised she bothered to help with some of the boxes, and led her to the community room up the hall.

"Roxie, June, Corrine? I'd like to introduce my sister, Yvette. Yvette, here are three of the women who I'm living with."

They exchanged pleasantries while Chester set down the clothes. Yvette inspected each of them as she was introduced, concluding not a single one was worth any time at all. But she was looking forward to seeing Chester's fashion show; the additional humiliation of him modeling in front of such low-class women would only add to the amusement.

"Chester?" Roxie looked at him with concern. "Is everything alright? You look like you've been crying!"

The others quickly came up to him to see for themselves. 

"It's okay. No, it's fine. You know. We haven't seen each other in so long...I...I get kinda emotional...you know that, right?"

"So what are you doing, Chester?" June looked at all of the clothes. "Oh, how rude of us! Yvette, please. Take a seat." She moved a chair from the side of the room and offered it to her.

"Yvette...Yvette thought," he was choking up a bit, trying to make a good show of it. "Chhhhmmn," he cleared his throat. "Yvette thought it would be nice to see some of her friend's line they sent me from their recent European tour, and I suggested we should do it with you."

The three women exchanged smiles. 

"That is so sweet, Chester!"

"What a great idea – we'd love to."

He spent a few minutes laying outfits across the table, opening boxes to reveal lingerie ensembles, accessories and the like. Yvette directed from her chair, suggesting combinations she and Lyssa had imagined would look perfect on him. For his part, he couldn't stop from getting aroused, his peter swelling as his hands touched all of the silk underthings, his anticipation of showing it off for his friends.

"I think it's time, Chester. I'm getting eager to see these on you."

He stood back and waited until they were all seated, and unbuttoned his blouse. Slipping it off, he neatly folded it onto the back of a chair, removed his bra and paused. His erection was clearly visible through the thin material of the slacks, tenting out in front of him.

"Oh god that is precious, Chester. Just like old times. Girls, have you ever seen such a handsome package?" Yvette's eyes gleamed as she stared at him, her scheme she had hatched so many years ago unfolding even better than she had planned it. "I must document this!" She opened her purse to pull out a camera.

"Just a sec, Yvette." Roxie stood up and walked to Chester. "You might want to capture this." Roxie unbuckled his belt, slipped it through the loops and reached behind his back to fiddle about with something. "You ready?" She asked, turning to look at her. "Okay, Chester, kneel down and kiss your mistress."

Without pausing, Chester knelt in front of her, pushing his face between her legs and kissed her vagina under her clothes. He could smell her, and he loved her scent. He could feel his erection growing each time he inhaled. As he kissed her, Roxie handed the belt and whatever else she had in her hands to Corrine, who walked to an end table and set it down. Yvette was too shocked by the Chester's display of submission to notice.

"That's enough, Chester. You'll get me hot and bothered, and it's too soon for that." She turned to Yvette, keeping her hand on Chester's head.

"Here's the deal, Ms. McMillan. Chester is no longer your property. He's my little puppy dog now, to do with as I like. Isn't that so, Chester?" She stroked the hairs on the back of his head.

Even though they had played this out and practiced it, he hadn't known how he would react in the moment. He nodded, looking up at her.

Yvette broke from her shock and began laughing. She laughed so hard, she had trouble catching her breath. When she finally got control of herself, she wiped her eyes and looked at the pathetic scene like she was about to exterminate a nest of cockroaches.

"I can't even begin to figure out what you're saying...Roxie is it? My 'property?' You're 'little puppy dog?' I'm at a loss to know what you're going on about."

She was interrupted by her own voice, coming over a set of speakers at the far end of the room. "One way or another, before you see another red cent of that little trust fund you're going to have to go through me."

Yvette stopped, confused momentarily, until the parts all came together. "You little shit," she said venomously. "You think this little charade is going to make any difference? You think that," she waved her hand at the recording, "is going to stop me from getting what is rightfully mine?"

"I think, Ms. McMillan, you should probably stop while you're behind." Roxie turned to face her, prompting Chester to stand up. "Chester, I would really like to see you model some things today. Could you do us the pleasure?" She stood back a little to give him some room, watching Yvette the entire time.

Chester removed his slacks, stockings and panties, his penis springing out. Four pair of eyes stared at it. Yvette sighed, realizing how long it had been and how long since she'd seen it last. He proceeded to select an item from the table and put it on. As he got dressed, Roxie continued.

"Here's the real, deal, Yvette: you will, from this point forward, cease and desist any and all contact with your step-brother. You will neither attempt to steal his rightful inheritance, nor attempt to manipulate him for any reason whatsoever. Under penalty of a court order, you will avoid having any communication with him, verbal, written either directly or through third parties." She paused.

Yvette smiled thinly. "Aren't you the little miss smug junior attorney? Well let me tell you a thing or two about what you're up against, miss little 'cease-and-desist.'"

Roxie held up her hand and stopped her. "Don't say another word. You have no idea what guns you're facing Ms. McMillan. This isn't some college level mock trial. You're literally on the edge here. Not only will my counsel nuke whatever you bring to bear, Arthur himself is in on the deal. So I'd suggest you sit down, enjoy the last show you'll get, and listen very carefully."

Yvette's face nearly turned purple when Roxie first interrupted her, and then nearly blanched at the mention of Arthur's name. She slumped into the couch, her breath irregular. They grew alarmed when it looked as if she would faint, June running to get a glass of water. By the time she returned, Yvette had recovered enough to stay conscious, but the fight was out of her. She watched silently as Chester began to show his audience the outfits.

"Those are amazing, Chester. Yvette, Lyssa is truly talented." Corrine walked over to feel the material, coaxing his penis into a better alignment. His erection was pushing out on the teddy, an effect it had been designed for; it was immensely erotic to her.

As he continued to model, Roxie continued to lay out the new order of things. "We are not without some compassion, Yvette," she began softly. "We understand your needs and we're sympathetic. It's just that Chester is no longer available. We would like to offer you some alternatives, however, which we feel are likely to provide you with nearly as much satisfaction."

Yvette looked up at her, confusion mixing with cynicism.

"If you can plan to stay until passed commencement, I believe we will have two lovely young men who would like nothing more than to serve, and service, you as you have come to expect from our dear Chester."

A look of disgust passed quickly across Yvette's face, followed by curiosity. "I appreciate your amateur attempts at extricating Chester from his familial obligations, but offering me some poor substitutes is really not going to cut it ladies." 

Her expression belied her words; the women all noticed the contradiction.

Roxie continued, "Ms. McMillan, I think you should take everything we're saying very very seriously. We appreciate the fortune you are likely giving up, and while we can't guarantee these men will simply sign theirs over to you...without some...ermm...persuasion on your part, we can state unequivocally they are good for it. Perhaps in sum, greater than what you might expect to have...er...acquired from dear Chester here." 




Making a Woman of Him Ch. 15



Yvette, disbelief and denial flooding back to wash away the sense of defeat they had instilled in her, looked at all of them with disdain. "Really. I really don't think this conversation needs to go any further." Stealing a glance at the recorder across the room, she maintained her bluster. "I think I should probably go to my hotel..."

"This isn't an empty threat, Ms. McMillan," Corrine was crossing the room, her hand extending a cell phone. "You might want to confirm the situation with your attorney." 

Yvette's eyes flared in shock and anger, staring at young woman's hand and up to her face, her hands struggling not to accept the proffered phone. Fear won out; she snatched the device up to her ear. "Arthur?" Her voice was all honey and flowers. She turned to leave the room, hoping a little private conversation might clear matters up.

The three women all looked at each other and then to Chester – eyebrows raised and lips twisted in silent hope. Chester removed his clothes, unconcerned about standing naked among them as he folded the ensembles back into their boxes. 

"Assuming Phase One is complete," June began, "I think it's time to get going on arrangements to transfer ownership of the boys to..." she motioned with her thumbs.

"I've begun the process," Roxie assured them. "Had a little goodbye session with Millard on Friday. I think he's pretty clear about the situation. Got a message today from him and John – looks like they know they've crossed a line, and frankly, I think they're a little scared. I showed them a few samples of the vids I have and well, let's just say they're willing to discuss terms." 

Chester pulled on his regular clothes, staring at them not a little confused. Was the entire world blackmailing each other? When did this start happening?

"I'm just wondering, Roxie," Corrine interrupted. "Why did you let this go on so long if you had the goods to stop it?" Her tone was more confused than accusatory.

Roxie shrugged. "Dunno, really. I mean, Catherine's obviously not happy about it, but she's always had the power to stop it...or maybe not. Who knows. Maybe it's his fault." She pointed a thumb at Chester, her lips barely forming a smile.

"You little bitch," June said with a grin. "I think you've found somebody better to boss around than Millard!" She looked at Chester blushing and giggled. "Well, Chester, you couldn't find a better replacement for Yvette...speak of the devil!"

They looked at the door as Yvette re-entered, her face ashen, her eyes shooting daggers. "Chester," she almost spat his name, ignoring everyone except him. "I'm going to my hotel. I am very angry right now, so it would be best if we didn't dine together tonight. But I expect to spend some time with you tomorrow." 

"We will make the gentlemen available to you as soon as you'd like. This is the final week of school, but that should be enough for you to determine whether they are of value to you, no? Naturally, we believe it will be worth your while, but we know the little dogs quite well." Corrine couldn't have cared less one way or another, but if Yvette wanted something out of the deal, she'd have to put a little into it.

"We'll see," she whispered with venom, her eyes fixed on Chester's face. "We'll see."



Making a Woman of Him Ch. 16



The rest of the week practically flew by. Pre-finals preparations had put everyone on edge. Everyone that is except Chester...and Yvette. For his part, he simply continued working through his studies, unconcerned about a few tests, final papers, or oral arguments. For her part, she expected him to attend to her as she always had, but it was clear the dynamic had been broken. She wasn't sure what the new dynamic was, but it didn't make her happy.

It was only a couple of days since the "transition" as Chester had come to think about it. They sat across the table at a small café for dinner. 

"What do you know about these young men?" She feigned disinterest, sipping her wine, but he knew better. 

He paused, feeling more at ease than he'd felt with her since...he couldn't remember when. She was asking him, putting him in a position of importance. He let the feeling wash over him, not willing to leave it alone.

"What?" She looked at him, confused he wasn't responding to her. She smiled grimly. "Oh. I get it. Well, don't gloat too long, little brother. It's not good sportsmanship. And who knows, the table may turn again."

He just shook his head, knowing she'd never change, but feeling free of her influence. Finally. "Millard comes from excellent stock," he began, reciting the background Roxie and the others had given him. "4th generation royalty or something. Great-great is/was an Earl." 

She looked unimpressed. "They're as likely to be poor as anything else. Earls don't mean much."

He tipped his head, puzzled. "Whatever. Apparently his family's got some land. Like half the state of Vermont or something. You can get the particulars from Roxie if you need them. He's got a lot to lose, that's for sure, or to give...depending on how you look at it." He smiled, pleased with his small attempt at humor.

She didn't acknowledge it. "And the other one?"

"John Capstold. Noveau Riche, according to what I learned." He was reciting the facts as he'd practiced them. John was going to be a tougher sell, if he wasn't careful. "Folks came into some money through odd circumstances: an inheritance or lottery. Something. Anyway, they're more than flush, but it's clear they've not learned discipline. Typically, John's not up to managing the fortune they've built up. He wasn't born into it, so it's...heck. You know the type, Yvette." All scripted, practiced in front of the mirror, and all true, but the women kept telling him presentation was everything.

She nodded, knowingly, and distracted, preoccupied by the possibilities, her mental calculator going crazy, working through the scenarios.

"Doesn't this feel a little...cheap?" He couldn't resist the need to share his discomfort at enabling Yvette's next steps.

"Cheap? How so?" She looked at him confused and then laughed, a high bird-like trill. He felt his jaw tighten. "Chester, grow up! The stakes are anything but cheap. These boys know what they're getting into – and if they don't, well, it's time to go to school."

He looked down at his plate, wondering if having all this money was really worth it. Maybe he should just let her have it. 

She interrupted his thoughts. "And what they had been doing to Catie..."

"Catherine," he corrected her.

She shook her head annoyed at the interruption. "Catherine. You're certain that will be enough...leverage?"

He shrugged again. "It's all news to me. Roxie has plenty on Millard, as far as she's said...I've only seen one instance, and it was pretty horrible. But if she's got stuff like that on both of them, it shouldn't take much convincing."

She sighed, turning her attention to her drink and her meal – it all sounded so...sophomoric. Her options were limited. It was clear Lyssa's endeavor wasn't going to turn the corner any time soon, and she couldn't go back to Daddy for more funds; he'd made that clear last year. Traveling took juice, a lot of it, and damn if she was going to change her lifestyle. She'd been living this life for far too long to let it go. No, she needed cash, and she'd need it before the year was out. If it meant sinking her hooks into a different vein, well, maybe that wasn't such a bad option. Get rid of the sick step-brother. 

She looked at him as if for the first time: pathetic, weak and likely under the thumb of that middle-class bitch Roxie. He was lost to her, in any event; Arthur had made that much clear. He was of no further use to her, so he could rot in Roxie's hell for all she cared. But right now, he seemed to be her only avenue to a new source of funding, so she put up with him.

"Fine. I'll try my best. Now let's not talk about it anymore." She looked back at him before returning her attention to her dinner.

* - * - * - * 

"How did it go?" 

Roxie approached him before he'd had a chance to close the front door. She was in her pajamas – a sheer silk ensemble he recognized from one of the New York houses. The rest of the house was dark, with only a table lamp on in the living room – it was pretty late he realized.

He shrugged out of his coat and looked at her, suddenly shy. "Okay, I think." He lowered his eyes.

"Did she bite?"

He thought she meant literally for a moment and looked up to reassure her when he realized what she was asking. "Yes. I think she'll be calling you for whatever you've got."

She helped him hang up his coat and turned to him, sliding her arms around his ribs, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Chester?" She pulled back to look at him. 

He saw something in her look, a glint of mischief and a...tenderness...he'd not seen since...he couldn't remember when...his mother? "What?"

"I'm..." she hesitated, her hands sliding down the sides of his blouse to rest on his waist. "I think I'm falling for you." She stared at him, waiting.

Vulnerable. She looked vulnerable and it triggered an emotion he'd never felt before. Protective, predatory. He mentally shook his head, keeping his face still and looking back into her eyes. At the same time he wanted to bite her, bite her neck, inflict pain and take out all of the years of humiliation he'd been suffering, even as he felt a flood of compassion and warmth. He was afraid if he opened his mouth he wouldn't stop himself. The new feelings raised his heartbeat from anxiety. What is going on?

She moved her fingers, pulling the blouse out of his slacks and quickly unbuttoning it, running her fingers up his smooth chest. "The other day...in my room. I'm sorry if I went over the line." Her hands returned to his waist, undoing the clasp on the slacks. He realized she was stripping him in the front hall of the house where anyone might catch them. He gasped as she peeled his clothes down, his peter springing out into the cool air.

"Roxie," he finally whispered. "We...you...not here!" He waved his hands around at the darkened rooms and the stair, expecting at any moment someone might appear.

She was kneeling now, slipping the pumps off his feet and moving the pile of clothes aside. "You're right, Chester. Come with me." She handed him his clothes and led him by the elbow to the living room, where, if anything, he felt even more exposed. His peter jumped at the thought of being caught. This was public space, not just the council floor – it would be terrible for both of them. He shivered at the possible consequences.

"Shhhh, Chester. Sweetheart. It's okay. Do you know how late it is? Nobody is coming down. I've been waiting up for you." She stroked his back and buns, letting her fingers drift between his thighs. "I couldn't keep my mind off of you...all night. I gave up studying. All I could think of was you, kneeling on my floor, the look of complete desire on your face when I asked you to eat me out." She pushed on the top of his butt, suggesting he should kneel down again. "You liked that, right?"

He understood what she wanted and felt his heart jump at the memory of submitting to her, of how good it felt to push his mouth against her vagina, the taste of her. That other thing, that predatory feeling, it simmered under the surface biding its time.

"I..." She turned to face him, his mouth level with her waistband, "I think I'm falling in love with you, Chester." He looked up to see that expression again, vulnerable mixed with desire. The mischievous glint was there too, but it might have only been a trick of the light. She slipped her briefs down, her red bush pulling his attention back. 

He leaned forward, moving his hands to her cheeks to support himself, when she backed up and turned, making him lose his balance, falling onto all fours. Confused, he looked up to see an impish smile as she sat down on the sofa, spreading her legs.

"Could you imagine spending the rest of your life with me?" She asked it quietly, even as she reached forward to take his head in between her legs. "I've so needed your mouth on my pussy, Ches. Ohhhh, two days is far too long to wait...yesss, Chester, shove that beautiful tongue into me."

Like a crocodile, that feeling broke through the surface as he felt her juices on his lips. He took her soft inner folds between his teeth and bit down gently, pulling the leaves out and back.

"OH! Chester! Yes! God! Yes, I love that!" Her hands pulled at his ears, stroking him, urging him on.

Grunting he buried his face into her, rooting like a pig looking for truffles, his nose rubbing against her clit. Sliding up, he took the small button between his lips, pressing them together.

"OHHHHGODDD, Chester!" She moaned quietly and jerked as he shifted her clit in between his teeth.

He'd never done anything like this before, but she had unleashed something. Part of him wanted to hurt someone, but he couldn't believe it was her...Yvette? He didn't stop to think, continuing to work his mouth against her open vagina trying to force another moan from her. 

Minutes later, her hands pressing against his head, he felt a rush of pride as she climaxed on his face. The crocodile inside smiled and sank below the surface, satisfied for the moment. He sat back on his heels, listening to her ragged breathing.

"Thank you, Chester. Thank you." She looked down at him, her eyes glistening. "I couldn't have slept tonight, just thinking about the other day..." She reached down to stroke his cheek and eventually stood up, pulling his chin up.

He got up, his peter standing up, stiff and swollen. He blushed at his arousal; he still was embarrassed at his erection, even though he knew it was silly. She reached down, put her hand around it and pulled on it.

"Grab your clothes, Chester. Let's go upstairs."

As she pulled him up the stairs by his penis, the memory of something she'd just said hit him like a soft pillow. The rest of his life? 

"Roxie?" He whispered as they got to their floor. "What did you mean about imagining this for the rest of my life?" 

They got to his room, moonlight helping them find their way. She turned and hugged him, pressing his erection between them. He couldn't see her face, but he imagined that look and he felt his peter pulse.

"Could you?" She whispered. "I'm having...I really...I'm in love with you, Chester. I'm falling deeply in love with you..."

* - * - * - *

"Lower." She stood behind him, her foot pushing his knees apart. "Get your head on the ground." 

Millard's arms were pushed out in front of him on the rug, his knees spread as far as they could go. Putting his head down would mean raising his hips – he wasn't that flexible.

She looked at his ass, spread open, his bare back and buttocks. The hair would definitely have to go. Perhaps tonight...yes, she thought, and she liked the possibilities that drifted into her thoughts.

"Now, you were saying?"

"I umyr svnt."

"Do NOT raise your head! But you'll have to speak up, mumbling won't do at all. Say it so we can hear it. Enunciate!" She pushed the toe of her shoe against his asshole and he jerked.

"I AM YOUR SERVANT." He was sobbing a little, whether from fright, humiliation or pain, she wasn't sure, but in any event she didn't care.

"Yes, you little cunt. You are. For quite a long time. But it's clear you'll need training. You've risen above your station, haven't you, you little cocksucker. Cocksucker...have you ever had the pleasure?"

She had walked around to his head, poking at his ear. 

"Well?"

"NO!" 

"Hmmm...not very well mannered, are you? So much for you to learn. How tiresome of your former mistress." She sighed. "Manners will be the first lessons apparently. 'No, mistress'. That is what any pony-boy would say to his mistress, hmmm?" She put her shoe on the back of his head. "Say it!"

"NO, Mistress! I've never sucked cock."

She looked up at John, fidgeting. "And you. On the floor. We'll put that thing to good use, or perhaps you'd like to be pony-boy's first?"

His eyes flared in anger, his protests reduced to grunts by the gag. The black latex phallus bobbed in front of his nose.

"Really. Really?" Yvette walked around to him, her head nodding toward the television. "I thought we'd been through this already."

He squinted, his eyes shifting from defiance to fear to anger. He reluctantly bent to the floor, his knees between Millard's spread legs.

"Since you had the little toy, I assume you know how to use it. And given both of your familiarities with anal penetration, let me see how you think it's done." She moved to the desk, inspecting a tube. "Hold on. I'm not interested in that much struggle." 

She handed the tube to John, her intentions clear, returning to the bar to sip her drink. It was really too good a scene to leave for her memory alone, she thought, looking around for her phone. By the time she focused the viewfinder on her new pets, John had spread a coil of lube on Millard's asshole.

"Please, John. Don't!" He pleaded quietly, as if there was some way he could change his situation. "We'll figure something out. There's got to be a different way. AhHHHHHHSHITTTTT FUCKKK!"

Whether John thought there might be a different way out or not, he had no intention of defying the bitch. At the same time, he'd never touched another guy's naked skin before, not counting the touch football games; he struggled to position the dildo without having to actually put his hands on Millard. He had brought the dildo right up to his friend's ass and began pushing it in. Surprisingly, it went in easier than he would have expected, and even more surprising, pushing it in gave him a sense of power. Almost as powerful as when he tormented those stupid cunts. He always was a pussy, he thought, the shouts of Millard's agony only spurring him on.

She felt herself getting wet watching the little sadist work his jaws against the gag, pushing further into Millard's ass cheeks. Millard's protests were empty, after all. If he really didn't want this, he knew how to put a stop to it. 

John had shifted his knees back to give him more room to maneuver, pushing hard against Millard's open ass. Bottoming out, he started reversing but Millard was clenching hard and the lube wasn't sufficient to overcome his resistance. With the gag in his mouth he couldn't talk Millard through it: he would have to use his hands if he was going to pull out. As he brushed his fingers across Millard's straining thighs, he felt his stomach lurch. He was stuck, breathing as best he could through his nose, the stench of Millard's asshole causing more cramping. A blinding white pain shot up his spine, the result of Yvette slapping his ass with what turned out to be a leather belt. 

He spread Millard's thighs with his hands, ignoring the cramping and nausea and began to pull out, the resistance of Millard's rectum against the dildo transmitting directly into his jaws. 

"Let's see if you can get him to spew, snail-cunt." She refreshed her drink, feeling the breeze against her skin as she walked. Her reflection in the French doors made her clench a little – her breasts bobbing nicely, her bush neatly trimmed. It had been so, so easy to get them to...cooperate. The ice clinked. She splashed some scotch into the glass and swirled it, rewinding the day.

"Henry Millard, is it?" She read the dossier Chester had fumbled together, her feet up on the table, the sun glancing off the marble counter in her hotel room.

"Just Millard, Ms.?..." His voice sounded nasal over the phone.

"McMillan. Yvette McMillan. I'm Chester's sister. I'm in town for a couple of days, and Roxie suggested I give you a call."

She let the silence dangle between them.

"And?" His voice sounded a little more strained.

"I believe she may have mentioned I would be calling. I believe you and she had an arrangement?"

His intake of breath was all she needed.

"Right then. So, I'm at the Register. Room 407. Shall we say, 15 minutes?" She had no idea where anything was, but she assumed he lived on campus, practically a stone's throw from her window.

"Ms. McMillan...I...er...I've got a prior engagement this evening..."

"Ummhmmm. And your buddy, Capstold. Give him a call. I expect both of you over here in 15 minutes. Do I need to go into details?" She looked out the window at the bright spring clouds. It was really too beautiful a day to spend inside, but the anticipation of breaking the two boys made up for it.

"Uhhh...John? Hold on, Ms. McMillan."

She could hear muffled conversation; she took the moment to inventory the room. 

"Could you perhaps be available tomorrow, Ms. McMillan. We both have prior...er...dates this evening...?"

"15 minutes," she said with quiet threat. "The Register. Room 407. And bring all of your toys. You won't be disappointed."

She was a little surprised they showed up as promptly as they did: a light knock on the door 13 minutes later.

"It's open, please come in." 

The two young men came in, smartly dressed, Millard with a look of apprehension, John, defiance. He carried a small valise – leather, antique – in a way that led her to believe it was heavy. 

"Thank you for indulging me, gentlemen." She got up to meet them, the sheer material of her robe leaving little to their imagination. If it confused them, all the better. "I think we all know why you're here, but if there's any doubt in your mind, let me set matters straight.

"It seems," she directed her remarks to Millard, "that your lady-friend, Roxie, has taken a shine to my brother. As he had previously been under my...guidance, the new situation has become terribly inconvenient." As she spoke, she turned to a small side table and picked up the TV remote. "Please, set the bag down and take a seat." It was more a directive than a request.

Although both were wary, Millard appeared to accept the situation, while John's hesitation suggested he wasn't going to stick around much longer without a good reason. As they settled in, the display lit up, an image of Millard spread-eagled on the bed, his mouth held open, his cock in some kind of contraption. 

Millard's gasp of surprise was masked by John's "What the fuck, Millard?"

"She...she didn't...fuck." Millard looked around at the hotel room as if it was closing in, avoiding the screen.

"What. The. Fuck. Millard?" John's attention was welded to the images and the sounds of Millard's gasps and cries as he struggled with something unseen tormenting him.

Millard looked confused. "Really, Ms. McMillan, I'm not sure what...it's...you're not..." He couldn't get a sentence out, his hand waving at the screen, trying to avoid watching himself, remembering that night and knowing what was coming next. His throat was starting to constrict.

She ignored the video – she'd seen it enough over the past day to almost have it memorized – advancing to the next chapter. It was Catherine, tied up and screaming, John fucking her hard in the ass.

"Now that's more like it," John said with snarky ease. "I don't know what the fuck you were doing there Millard, but this I can get into." He looked up at Yvette, challenging her to say whatever she had on her mind.




Making a Woman of Him Ch. 16



"You like videoing your little escapades, don't you, Mr. Capstold?" She advanced the video again. This time, the tortured cries were from a young blond woman, a trickle of blood running down her spread thighs. "Not that it matters, but do you remember this little piece?"

John licked his lips, looking at the woman crying and struggling, remembering that night. Fuck that was sweet! He recalled silently.

"Right." Yvette paused the screen, the image of the young woman's face frozen in mid-scream, her naked body stretched open. "Are you aware, that at the time you were having fun, this woman was probably under-age?"

John didn't react at first, lost in the reverie of that night. What a piece of ass she was. God that was fantastic. "What?" He looked up at her. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Jail-bait, Mr. Capstold. Statutory rape. Not to mention what appears to be a brutal physical rape." She saw the realization sweep across his face. It was a beautiful thing to watch. She wasn't 100% certain, but the initial investigation she had done left it sufficiently ambiguous to make her case. She continued her bluff. "My attorney has located her. It wouldn't take much to have her press charges."

"You're fucking kidding me..." But he didn't look at all amused. Just the opposite. He looked like he was starting to feel – royally fucked. "Fuck." It was his turn to stare anywhere but at the television. "You fucking bitch," he spat out. "This is blackmail!"

The look on their faces was precious. So precious she had wished she'd had a camera handy. A feral smile spread on her face. "And from what I've heard, you both are comfortable with conducting business under those terms." She let the silence hang between them.

"Right. So, now that we have the basics taken care of, let me fill you in on some details.

"1. Your asses, figuratively and literally, perhaps, are officially mine. As of 1PM yesterday, I own you. We'll discuss what that means over the next several weeks. But for now, and starting right now, get over any thoughts of personal freedom.

"2. You'll begin making preparations to travel abroad with me. My associate and I are about to go on our European tour and you'll be assisting us. No doubt between the two of us you'll be able to provide proper accommodations. We'll discuss the itinerary tomorrow.

"3. Starting in the next few minutes, you'll begin your training. I've been told you are excellent prospects to serve my needs; I'll need to discover that for myself.

"While you mull that over, why don't you mix us some drinks Millard? I'll take a Scotch on the rocks." She put the remote down, letting the video continue to play in the background. It was kind of Roxie to provide a highlights reel of the two boys' playthings. She had rubbed herself raw the night before studying it, intrigued by Millard's submissive tendencies and a little concerned at John's sadism. "John? Perhaps you could give me a little tour of your toy box?" She motioned to the desk, the implication clear.

He was still hesitant, but due more to caution than arrogance. As he began to pull out a variety of harnesses, dildos, whips, clamps and devices, the purposes for which she could only imagine, Millard arrived with drinks. 

"Hmmm..." She studied the paraphernalia while she sipped her drink. "I'm sure I don't know what half those things do, boys, but before the evening is out, I think you'll be able to show me, right?" She said it coyly, as if she might be the object of their demonstrations, but with enough menace to leave it open to question. "All of this has made me a little hot. You don't mind if I get a little more comfortable, do you?"

They smiled tentatively. This was more familiar territory. 

"Not at all, Ms. McMillan. Is there something we can do to help?"

"Now, that is more like it, Millard. Yes, I think there is. Perhaps you could do me the favor of removing all of your clothes and putting them in a pile over there. And when you are done, please stand in the middle of the room in front of the TV."

Millard froze for a moment considering her request, looked around, swallowed the rest of his drink and shrugged his shoulders. It was going to be a kinky afternoon, that was for certain, but he hoped her prior comments about owning him weren't for real. 

"And as for you, John. Perhaps you could help me out of my things?" She arched an eyebrow at him seductively.

He jumped at the chance. He had been mentally undressing her the moment he'd walked in the door. He didn't need any more encouragement.

She set down her drink and raised her arms over her head, opening herself to him. He practically attacked her blouse, unbuttoning quickly, pulling the tail out of her skirt. Slipping it over her shoulders he pulled it off one arm and then the other, all the while looking at the tops of her breasts in a half-cup bra. 

As he moved to unhook her skirt, she returned her attention to her drink, as amused by his eagerness as she was bored with the preliminaries. Feeling the air against her bare thighs, she waited for him to undo her bra and work out how to take off her stockings. By this time, Millard was standing where she had directed, his pecker starting to swell. Typical. Sheesh. 

John stared at the stockings, garter and underwear. He'd never seen anything quite like it – her bush visible but discreet behind the material. He found the hooks and eventually removed everything, leaving her standing nude, looking at him as if he were a school child, sipping her drink, waiting.

"What?" He was confused – he stared at her body – there wasn't anything left to take off.

"You're overdressed, wouldn't you say?" She turned away, leaving him to stare at her tight ass.

Refilling her drink she turned to Millard. She eyed him, noting his sleek build, the muscles of his chest and arms so much more pronounced than Chester's. He had slimmer hips, but his thighs were thicker. She barely noticed his cock – that was immaterial at this point. She wondered whether she had anything in Lyssa's line that would work. She sighed, realizing they'd have to try things on...

He was facing toward her as she approached, staring at her, his eyes focused first on her breasts and then down to her bush. She smiled and walked around him. A pretty nice ass, she had to admit. Nicer without the hair for certain. She continued to size him up as she moved around him. 

"So," she said softly, coming to stand up against him, her breast against his arm. "You like it a little rough?" She lowered the glass below his balls and raised it up. He jerked. "Especially, when it comes to your little man?" She brought her other hand down to cup his ass, spreading his cheeks apart.

He gasped as the ice pushed against his balls. "Hold it there for me, Millard."

She walked to the desk looking over the stuff there. "John," she turned to see he had stripped as well, "come and tell me what this is for." She pointed to a dildo-gag, knowing damn well what it was. He came over, his cock bouncing against his thigh.

"Which?" He took a drink and looked at where she was pointing, pausing. "That's a dildo-gag..." He stopped as he looked at her face.

She was staring at him, an eyebrow raised.

"No...you...you want me...?" He raised his shoulders and backed away a little trying to decipher her look. All he could see was a small nod as she took another swig from her glass. His eyes drifted down her naked body, to the dark patch of hair between her legs, and he felt his cock jump. They'd only made the girls wear it, but looking at her, her legs spread slightly, all of a sudden it didn't seem like such a bad prospect.

Assured John was gagging himself, Yvette returned her attention to Millard.

"You," she said addressing the naked Millard, "will be known as pony-boy from now on." At Millard's realization of the implications, she smiled wickedly. "I am inspired by some of the toys John brought.

"And you," confirming John had buckled the gag into place, "will be known as snail-cunt. Simply because you are slimy and not so quick.

"Your training begins right now. And as is proper in these circumstances, you each have a safe word. But. Using it only prevents the training from going too far. It doesn't save you from training. We'll figure something out one way or the other. Do you understand?"

They both looked at each other, at the television and at her, one resigned, the other still defiant. She spent the next quarter hour going through the details – safe words, her training objectives and a little peek at their future. By the time she had finished, Millard's balls were numb and her drink was diluted from the melted ice.

And so it brought her to the present moment, with Millard's anguished cries in the room mixing with the sounds from the television. 

"How hard is he, snail-cunt?"

John had been focusing on fucking Millard's ass, surprised that in spite of the nausea, his cock was stiffening. Each time Millard shifted, John was reminded of his hands holding his thighs apart, his nausea returning. Now, he would have to go further and actually feel the pussy up; he'd never touched another guy's dick and was almost ready to use his safe word. He stopped, trying to figure out what to do next. A sharp slap across his cheeks pushed the dildo further into his friend's ass. 

"Well?"

Closing his eyes and trying not to breathe too deeply, he reached up and under Millard's raised thighs, until he felt the hair on his balls brush his fingers and...a little further up, his wrist brushing the front of Millard's pelvis and then...a thick erection. He probably is enjoying this, John thought disgustedly. He pulled his hand back and gave her a thumbs up – the universal sign for erections.

"So it's obvious he isn't going to come just by you fucking his ass. Help him out."

John's stomach lurched again at the prospect he'd be jacking Millard off, while he fucked his ass with his mouth. How did I get myself into this??? He paused, briefly, continued his pistoning and took control of his disgust and humiliation. Moments later, he pushed his hand back under Millard and gingerly wrapped his fingers around the fucker's hard-on. It was not easy to move his fingers, keep the dildo going and not collapse onto the rug, but apparently Millard didn't need much help. Within a couple of strokes, he felt Millard's cock pulsing, and choking back a little vomit, he felt the jism spurting out, the sound of it hitting rug mixing with Millard's gasps and protests.

"You see boys? That was just hard enough, eh? Now, get up and present yourselves to me as I instructed you earlier. The day is still young, and I have ever so much for you to learn."



Making a Woman of Him Ch. 17



Two hours later, and Millard was a changed man. John was nearly catatonic from what she'd put them through.

Millard stood in the middle of the room, his entire body shaved from the head down, tears leaking from his eyes as he looked at the outfits Yvette had laid out for him. He was hoarse from protesting, but not once had he used his safe word; he couldn't explain why, but even as he was humiliated he was aroused – almost more aroused than Roxie had ever made him feel. He knew something was terribly wrong with him, he'd known it for years, but the past two hours had been more confusing than any he could remember. He shifted uncomfortably, the thing in his ass a constant reminder of his new status.

John sat. Naked, humiliated and disgusted, he stared at his fingers past the black phallus at his nose. No amount of washing would satisfy him they were clean. The smell of Millard's ass was in his nose; the smell of the depilatory was everywhere. He had wretched behind the gag, begging her to let him take it off, furthering his own debasement at his show of weakness, the smell of his vomit adding to the horrible stew. He wouldn't use the safe word, and more surprising still, he couldn't understand why he had been hard the entire time. And all the while she just watched them, sipping her cocktail, her bush and tits naked and teasing – the promise of fucking her ever present. He was almost ready to take her right now, but he knew she would fuck him up royally if he tried. His jaw was numb from fatigue, his neck wet from constant drooling of saliva and gastric juices. As god-damn awful as this is, it isn't as bad as having a pony-tail stuck up my ass! He grunted a little laugh at the portrait Millard made standing there.

She liked what she saw: a nicely groomed pony, his skin oiled and satiny, his tail a little small, but it would grow over time. She had images of wonderful new outfits Lyssa could make – ephemeral and cloudlike, with hard leather and metal. She'd even imagined a brand and product line: Prancing Pony. It was going to be too perfect. She was practically dripping from arousal – it was time to get snail-cunt inside her. He had been hard almost the entire time he had tormented his friend, sick fuck, and he looked like he was ready to attack her. She needed that. It had been too long since she'd had someone properly fuck her.

"Snail-cunt," she turned to him. "It's time you made yourself properly useful..."

* - * - * - *

With finals week over the women's house had transformed – the buzz of anxiety replaced by a fog of calm. That's what it felt like to Chester, as if the air itself was thick with a sedative. Usually he was unaffected by other students' stress, focusing on his own work, and rarely challenged to a point of anxiety, but then, he'd never spent any amount of time in a community of women. Maybe they had something else going on he reacted to.

He hadn't spent a night alone since Roxie admitted to falling in love with him; he still wasn't used to sharing a bed with someone. Harder still, she refused to let him wear anything, her skin pressed up against him; his sleep was suffering. And even more of a strain was his constant arousal – his peter was hard when he went to sleep and hard when he woke up. In one way he was thankful she wouldn't let him release – at least he wasn't losing his vital fluids – but his balls ached in ways he'd never felt before, and that was causing him some concern.

"Ow," he winced when she lightly stroked his sac one morning. "I think something's wrong..."

"That's natural, Chester, my love," Roxie said casually. "You just need to cum."

He could tell by her attitude that she was not going to help him.

"Go ahead, if you need to. I don't mind." She sat up in bed, stretching and then laid back on her elbow to look at him.

He considered it – even moving a little sent jolts of pain through his testicles, but he really had wanted to slow down his frequency of ejaculation. He decided against it for the moment, easing himself off the bed. 

"I love you, Chester," she said with a smile and slipped out of bed to get ready for the day.

Love. He wasn't sure what that meant, or if he'd really ever felt anything like it. He'd read enough literature about love. His tutors had made him read the classics, so he knew what others talked about when they talked about it. 

He remembered the feelings he had for Yvette in those first few months – before he realized how cruel she was. He had thought that was love, but looking back maybe it was more like infatuation. The other day, when Roxie suggested he was a submissive and she treated him...that way...he felt something like what he remembered feeling for Yvette, but it was different. It was all too confusing, really. He did feel great fondness for Roxie, maybe even affection. And then, the other night, when he had bitten her and she wanted him to do it more, that feeling in the pit of his stomach, reptilian, predatory-like. What was that about? Was that love? 

The echo of that feeling came back as he gingerly washed himself in the shower. Did she really want him to hurt her? Could he continue to do that? Was that how he felt love? And marriage? Was Roxie really contemplating marriage? His experience in that department was limited to his parents, who had not been exemplary role models – his father leaving his mother, only to return to take over the inheritance. Others, aunts and uncles, cousins – many were married of course, but he really hadn't thought much about whether they were in love. The two things seemed to be completely separate in his experience – people married for all sorts of reasons apparently, not because they loved each other.

The house was preparing for Commencement. Although he wasn't graduating this term, he was expected to support the house's efforts. A processional committee had been formed with much activity around outfits, sashes and the like. 

On top of those preparations, there was to be a party. He only got snatches of the arrangements as he did his toilette in the morning or over meals. It didn't involve him, as far as he could tell – tomorrow he would be moving back to the men's house for summer term – his last before he graduated. 

Yvette had said her goodbyes the day before, the two men in tow, Millard somehow transformed, John tamed in some subtle way. She waved goodbye from the taxi, all smiles and light. He returned the waves but not the kiss. Each day he had woken up, relieved at the realization he was free from her power. For the first time in his life, he had begun to think about the future, a future he could envision without her. He pitied her: her obsession about money, her need to control. With Arthur's help he was assured he would never have to worry about money, not that he'd given it much thought; but Arthur had been clear on one thing: he had to find an avocation – he couldn't be idle. 

A light knock at the door interrupted his daydream as he was packing. He returned Roxie's smile, the pain from his groin a constant reminder of his situation with her.

"Busy?" She didn't wait for an answer before walking in. Looking around, she saw he had packed most of his things. "Looks like you're pretty much ready, yeah?"

He nodded, looking at the room in a fresh light. It no longer suited him, the coral and peach, the stuffed animals. He felt a change growing in him, something that started a couple weeks before was growing, but it still hadn't taken shape. That feeling in the pit of his stomach returned when he looked at her, his eyes shifting to the tops of her thighs. He licked his lips, thinking about biting down on her clitoris. 

Snatches of a dream he'd had the night before came back. He and Yvette were standing at the edge of the Grand Canyon, it was a beautiful sunny day, clouds drifting. As peaceful as the scene, however, he felt menace and foreboding. Without warning, Yvette pushes him over the edge and he was falling into the crack. Suddenly a red balloon appears below him and he falls into its sheath, enveloped by a warm red fabric. The fabric changes to a long red tongue and he woke up as if he had been swallowed. He shook his head to try and clear the images but he couldn't shake the feeling. Something was changing.

"Soooo," Roxie began, her voice a little strange. "I was hoping...I was hoping you might want to join some of the rest of us for a little party..."

"I've been hearing about it..."

"It's a bit like a Sadie Hawkins...but perhaps a bit more grown up..."

He shrugged, not at all clear what that might mean. He'd never been invited to a party by a girl – being the freak in high school guaranteed it – so he had no reference. He raised his eyebrows.

"So, I was hoping you'd be my date!" She smiled, the invitation less a question than an expectation.

"When is it again?"

"This Saturday. Are you free?" She knew he was. 

He knew she knew. And he knew she knew he knew she knew. It made him laugh. "Why wouldn't I be free?"

"Perfect. It's at 7PM. Uhhh, and there's something else..." She paused, uncharacteristically embarrassed or shy.

He paused as well, waiting, now even more confused at her demeanor.

"The party. Like I said. It's an adult Sadie Hawkins. We've done it once before and it was pretty wild. Even some of the more shy girls came...uhmm...out. But, well, you and I, we've...oh fuck. Why am I so nervous?" She giggled, looking down at her hands. "Okay. I'll come out and say it straight and I hope I don't fuck up what we've got going." She paused again. "We do have something going, don't we?"

He looked up at her strange tone and realized she was truly vulnerable, concerned about his reaction or, he couldn't quite believe it, his feelings. The predatory feeling returned. 

He nodded. "Tell me." The crocodile eyes poked above the surface, his stomach clenching slightly. 

"Well, first, it's clothing optional. That part shouldn't be too hard to handle for either of us." She waived her hands and gave a short laugh. "More challenging, perhaps, is that the boys all must be restrained – you come as our 'pets,' not as our dates." She held her breath, waiting.

He smiled slightly, trying to imagine what such a party would be like. "And what sort of pet would you expect me to be?" The image of a lizard popped up unbidden. 

She exhaled, relieved he found it as amusing as he did. "Why, I don't know. I hadn't gotten that far, but now that you ask, isn't it obvious? You'd come as my pussy."

* - * - * - *

The "ballroom" was in the basement of the house. Basement wasn't really an appropriate word – not cold, dank or moldy, the bottom floor of the house opened out onto a broad expanse of lawn where the hillside had been terraced. 

As Chester descended the stairs (Roxie had allowed him to walk down), he immediately noticed how high the ceilings were. He'd not had an occasion to come down before, and he had expected a low ceiling room, housing the heating plant with exposed plumbing. None of that was the case. 

The stairs spilled into a small squarish hall, a pair of open double doors revealing a larger room beyond, along with a corridor serving several rooms to the right. 

They walked through the entrance to the room – brightly lit, with a bar at one end, glass sliding doors out onto the back lawn, and couples...naked, or nearly naked...lounging, dancing or making out. He had felt self-conscious when Roxie had put the collar and leash on him upstairs – it was a new step – but more difficult to adjust to was the harness she had made him wear around his penis. A thin flat belt around his waist, with a two equally thin belts attached above his pubis, pulled tight down and through his legs to attach at the back. Roxie had wrapped two silk handkerchiefs around the belts, making his groin look like an oversized vagina, pink and red. His peter was pressed against the flesh between his legs, not even the root visible through the fabric. Its position forced him to move unnaturally, with a slightly widened gait; the fabric and belts constantly rubbing against the top of his shaft. When Yvette had made him pull his penis back, it was in service of an outfit; this time it was to make him look like a woman even when he was naked.

He caught a glimpse of himself in one of the mirrors – with his smooth pubis, the silk floral fabric really looked like an oversized pair of labia. He closed his eyes and tried not to blush. A pulse of arousal moved through him and he looked at Roxie, holding his leash. He hoped she wouldn't be cruel.

Looking around he saw that at least one of each pair had a leash in hand, the other with it around their neck. In all cases, he quickly saw, only women held the leash – he saw Darla with what he assumed was Roger, and Bethanie, also with a man. Near the bar he saw Genielle, statuesque and regal, her leash around, what Chester could only assume was her boyfriend – a well-built dark skinned man, sipping a drink out of straw, his arms tied behind his back, kneeling next to her.

He shook his head, unable to connect all of the dots. How could they all behave this way?

"Ecstasy, Chester. Like I told you. It does wonderful things for your sex life. But we don't need it, do we sweetheart?" Roxie pulled him along through the open dance floor, the music dying down; couples leaving to grab a drink or go outside. 

He tried to ignore everyone's stares. He'd been used to dressing as a woman, but now, with his peter pulled tight under him by the two straps, he knew what he looked like. For the past several years he'd thought of his penis as a nuisance, grateful for Lyssa's creative designs, but Roxie's use of the straps was something new. Perhaps we should send her a picture and a suggestion for a new line. It was uncomfortable, especially as he walked, and now as he felt it swelling, pushed hard against the leather. Was there something Lyssa could do to make it more comfortable? He made a mental note to bring it up with Roxie later. 

Most of the other guys in the room were on the floor, kneeling or engaged in some kind of sex act with their partner. Roxie was parading him through the crowd, his 'coming out' party, is how she'd put it to him. He smiled, not getting the joke when she first said it. Naked, she paraded him as if he were a woman, coming 'out' when his peter was tied up tight and out of sight.

"You're looking swell, Chester." Darla stared at his crotch and gave a little tug on Roger's leash, forcing him to sit up. "Roger, this is the guy I've been telling you about. What do you say, bitch?" Roger looked up at her, his eyes smiling, and looked at Chester.

"Woof." He barked, tossing his head a little.

"Nice," Roxie nodded. "Nice. Does he do any other tricks?" She motioned to the bartender for two shots of tequila.

"All sorts of tricks," Darla giggled. "Like, find the pearl in the bearded clam. You really like that one, don't you my pet?"

Chester remembered his first night in the house, when Darla was so self-conscious she wouldn't uncover her breasts in the bathroom. Now, completely exposed, she was pulling Roger up, forcing his mouth to her dark bush.

"Mmmm, that's right, my pet. Ohh! Yes. Keep doing that. Keep doing that, and you'll get a nice bone."

"I think he's getting a bone, one way or another, Darla."

Chester looked down to see Roger's penis getting erect. He turned away, distracted by a noise and saw Corrine through the doors, coming down the stairs. She was completely naked, her breasts even fuller than he remembered them – light skinned, with dark pink targets. She had done her hair, pulled it into a sever bun actually, that made her features sharper than usual. He shivered a little at how fierce it made her look. She saw them and crossed the room, smiling at all of the guests and house members.

"You look ravishing," Roxie greeted her with a hug. "Where is your date?"

"In a few, in a few." She ordered a drink and looked around. "I don't see June – has she arrived?"

Chester scanned the room and saw her outside, lounging on the grass – apparently alone. "There," he nodded.

She nodded in return and carried her drink through the doors. Chester watched her, her naked backside a little fleshier than he remembered it; the indentation from her spine as it merged into her cheeks exactly as he remembered it.

Roxie pulled on his leash lightly, wanting to dance. It wasn't something he'd been very good at, but his current situation gave him no alternative. Self-conscious about his lack of rhythm far more than his nudity, but uncomfortable with how his penis was restrained, he tried to move to the beat.

She could see his awkwardness. "Chester. Just copy what I'm doing, as if we're mirror images."

He concentrated on her movements, seeing her arms move over her head, her waist swaying one way while her legs went another. It was hard work! 

She laughed. "Try smiling a little Chester! It's not supposed to be a work out!" 

By the time the song ended, he was sweating, the alcohol beginning to go to his head. "Come on, sweetie. Let's sit this one out."

She pulled him down to his knees, his mouth against her open slit, while she lounged, sipping her drink. "You like that, don't you Chester? You prefer to suck my clit more than dance, yeah?"

He nodded, the tequila making it easier to rest his head, anywhere was better than trying to stand or dance. He lapped at her vagina, running his tongue into her folds the way she liked it. He was losing himself in her, in her smell, her taste, the feeling of her lips against his tongue. He lost track of time, her legs and pelvis pushing against him as he worked his jaw against her. The urge to repeat what he'd done the other night came back, his teeth beginning to nibble at her soft folds, working their way to her clitoris. Crocodile eyes.

"Not here, pet." She whispered. "Not now. Later. I want you to do that to me when we're alone." She put her hands on the back of his head and gently pulled him away. Looking up he saw a gleam in her eye he couldn't interpret. Bringing her finger to his lips, she looked up at the room nodding her head to someone.

"As much as I love what you're thinking, it's time for a special announcement." She stood up, her vagina brushing against his forehead, and stepped away from him, turning to offer her hand. Pulling him up, she walked with him to the center of the room. The music had stopped and the dance floor was empty.

"Everyone," she twirled a little to look around the room. He noticed everyone had come in from outside, standing in the doors, drinks in hands, leashes in hands, all staring at them. "I want to thank you all for making this a very special evening!" Her eyes were sparkling and he began to wonder whether she had taken Ecstasy.

"This party is to celebrate the end of the year. Not only have we done our time here..." the group shouted, interrupting her, "...helped our friends," she paused to point to Chester next to her and looked around to find Catherine, kneeling at Corrine's feet, "and also to share some very exciting personal news with you." She paused dramatically.

"As many of you know, I was working very hard to land a job after graduating," she stopped again to smile at the room, "and I just heard from Wygant Industries that they are offering me a starting position in their labs!" She clapped and gave a little jump, her breasts bobbing up and down. The room erupted in applause and good will. Roxie raised her hand to quiet them.

"I had a very strict upbringing," she continued. The room looked puzzled at the radical shift in the conversation. "I was always taught I needed to 'get my education, get a job, and only then consider marriage.'" She had deepened her voice impersonating her father. "So, I've taken care of the first two, and now, as you are all my witness, I will, hopefully, take care of the third."




Making a Woman of Him Ch. 17



Before anyone had time to react, Roxie knelt down in front of Chester and looked up at him. "Chester, since this is a Sadie Hawkins dance, I thought it should only be fitting that I propose to you. Chester, will you marry me?"

Before he could answer, she pressed her lips to the silk fabric and leather straps holding him fast, slipping her tongue into the gap to lick the back of his penis. He was speechless, putting his hands down on the back of her head more to steady himself than to keep her in place. He looked around the room, the faces erupting into smiles and cheers. He looked down to the top of her head, looking for any guidance, to see if she was putting him on, but she continued to kiss and lick him through the straps, his peter continuing to swell. 

"Yes?" It was as much as he could utter, but he wasn't at all certain it was true.

Hearing the word, she rocked back, snaked up and holding her hand behind his head pushed her lips against his. She pushed her tongue deep into his mouth, holding him tight, her other hand slipping down to his ass cheeks. His heart pounding, his thoughts whirling, he just submitted to her attack, letting her tongue wrestle against his, until she pulled away to face the rest of the room.

Corrine was the first to come up and congratulate them, Catherine in tow, hugging first Chester and then Roxie. Leaning in, she whispered confidentially. "You scheming bitch," she said it with a smile, "you'll be set for life. Good work." When she backed away the two women smiled at each other and hugged again.

As Chester looked down at Catherine's face he saw a mixture of sadness and longing – was she disappointed, jealous? He raised his eyebrows and she gave him a little smile, congratulating him. All around him the other women were coming up to share their good wishes, a sea of naked smiling bodies. As he stood, buffeted by all of the excitement, he felt Roxie's hand lightly rubbing the back of his trapped shaft, drawing attention to his new situation. 

"Thank you," she whispered into his ear. "We're made for each other. Tell me you agree." She didn't make it sound like a demand, but he felt a faint memory of Yvette. 

The alcohol wasn't helping, fogging his brain. He laughed a little, but he wasn't sure why. Nerves. The absurdity of it all. Marriage? Him? He hadn't really thought about it at all until Yvette made such a scene this past week. Why would Roxie want to marry him? The feeling in his stomach returned and with it a thought crept up his chest like some green vine, tiny, convoluted and strange. Perhaps there's more to what she was saying than she intended. So much had happened in the past few days! His head filled with memories, some unwanted– Yvette, Lyssa, Millard, and some more outlandish than he would have believed just a month before. When he came to university, he thought he was comfortable with whom he had been, and then, with Roxie pushing Yvette out of his life, he'd had a glimpse of other possibilities. He couldn't stay with one thought more than a heartbeat, Roxie's fingers continued to play with him, his peter getting uncomfortable, trapped against his underside. 

And now? Now what? Everything was topsy turvy, English ivy twisted – his desire to dress like a woman he'd always thought was just a peculiarity of his personality, but now...Marrying Roxie? Just a few days ago, Yvette wanted to convince him he was doomed. Money. It was always about money. His heart jumped and fluttered as Roxie pushed her fingers between his legs, rubbing the ridge of his glans. What was he in for? It was too much to take, tears leaked from his eyes. 

Corrine was staring at him, watching the tears begin to flow; she could tell they weren't from joy, even as the other women smiled and tried to hug him, to reassure and congratulate him. She tapped Roxie and cocked her head slightly.

"Chester?" She whispered, pulling her lips close to him. "You want this, right?"

He worked on getting his breathing under control, ignoring his tears; still his thoughts twisted around inside him. Since he was 16, he'd never thought of anything other than being at home, of living his life in the society his mother had made for him. School was just a means to an end – he remembered his adolescent notions of being an explorer or a scholar and how Yvette's...sickness...was only a mild distraction. The thought he might be making a mistake was quickly followed by that predatory feeling in his stomach, accompanied by his need to sink his teeth into Roxie's vagina. He tried to clear his mind, shaking his head; droplets flew from his cheek.

"Chester?" Roxie pulled her head back and shook him slightly, concern all over her face. 

"I'm...I'm okay..." he tried to smile. "It's just a lot to...a lot to process, 'sall."

"It's going to be great...No, better than great. We're already good for each other. You know that, right?"

Again, he felt a hint of familiarity of Yvette, but then, it wasn't like Yvette at all. The crocodile flowed up his middle and over his brain – he pulled her tight against him, her nipples hard against his chest, and brought his hands down to rest on her upturned bottom. 

Her hands held his head, her lips kissed his tears away and she kept whispering in his ear

"Shhh, it'll be okay. I'm so hot for you. I can't wait to get you alone. I love you so much." And on and on. His fingers traced a line up her spine, her pelvis pushing into him more deeply in response.

He couldn't resist the reptile urges flooding through his brain. He gripped her closer, pressing his lips against hers, raising his hand to slip between them, to her nipple. As they kissed deeply, her fingers stroking his stiffening bent peter, he squeezed her nipple, hard, like he had enjoyed doing to Catherine, pleased at the moan he pulled from her. Emboldened, knowing it was the right response, he pressed into her further and bit down hard on her lip, feeling a drop of blood.

Yes, the crocodile voice whispered in his head. He smiled at her moan, at her surprise. Yes you are made for her. He pulled her lip into his mouth and sucked on it, imagining all sorts of ways they would be good for each other.