Pageant Queen
mc; Mb; bf; Fdom; oral; preg; sissy
Steven frowned as he sat beside his father in the waiting room, listening to the clock on the wall slowly tick down, and the subtle hiss of the white noise generator by the door that kept people from hearing what was happening on the other side. He wasn’t crazy. He didn’t know why everyone kept treating him like he was crazy.
The door opened and a woman in her forties stepped out, ushering a woman in her thirties into the waiting room. The woman in her thirties said, “Thank you, Doctor,” and shook the older woman’s hand before heading for the reception window. The older woman, the doctor, then smiled at Steven and said, “Mr. Carlowitz, it’s your turn.”
Steven glanced at his father with a scowl, only to have his father nod at him, so he stood up and stuffed both hands into his pockets and stomped towards the doctor, who held the door open for him still.
“Second door on the right,” she said softly as he entered the hallway past the door she held.
Steven entered the room and sat down on the long couch as the doctor followed him in and sat at a desk, smiling sweetly at his scowling face. The room wasn’t an exam room, the woman wasn’t that kind of doctor. Instead it had a number of degrees on the wall over the desk, comfortable furniture, too many pillows to be decorative, and boxes of tissue stashed everywhere. The middle of the room, between the doctor and him, was a simple glass coffee table on which stood a silver tray with glasses and a pitcher of ice water. There was a large picture window, but for privacy it was closed by a tan set of cloth accordion blinds.
The doctor picked up a legal pad and a fancy gold pen, and then turned her chair to face him, saying, “Steven, may I call you Steven?” waiting a moment for his noncommittal shrug, “I’m Doctor Julia Westwood. I’m going to assume by your medical records that you’ve never seen a therapist before, so I want you to know that anything you tell me within this room is completely confidential, it won’t go past these walls. You can say anything you need to, alright?”
Dr. Westwood was a fading blonde, some gray hair entering her long locks, and intelligent blue eyes. She was dressed in a white blouse that strained just a bit more than was proper against her bust. A brown wool pencil skirt and black stockings covered her legs, and she work a pair of black stilettos that didn’t at all look professional. Despite her age and the looming wrinkles from being over the hill, she was clearly a beautiful woman still.
By contrast, Steven was literally just a kid. Eleven years old, and lanky from his first growth spurt. His short hair was a dirty brown color, with eyes to match, and his face was a bit too… babyish for his comfort. He was dressed in a pair of blue jeans and a t-shirt, in high tops, his leather bomber jacket left with his father. Steven sighed, “What’s the point? You won’t believe me.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest and scowled. His father hadn’t, the police hadn’t… everyone treated him like he was some sort of lunatic for talking about it.
Dr. Westwood nodded slowly, smiling, “Why don’t you start at the beginning and let me decide for myself?”
Steven sighed, “Fine, whatever… So my dad’s the principal of Lake Hill private school. Over the last several months they have been putting up fliers for a beauty pageant that the school is going to host over summer break. The pageant is for girls ages nine to thirteen, and they have been having tryouts for the girls at school, to see if any of them ‘have what it takes’.”
“My best friend, Marcus, dared me to go spy on them, and see how stupid the tryouts were, and maybe film some of it with my cell phone.” He frowned sourly at the memory of what happened to said phone. “So I did. I ‘borrowed’ my dad’s keys and took the city bus to the school, and snuck in.”
“They weren’t tryouts… it was some sort of trap. There were a bunch of grownup men in the gym, and a bunch of girls from school… but the girls were doing things… with the men. Some of them were naked, others half in and half out of fluffy and poofy dresses, and they were being molested. Some of them were even being raped!”
“I shot some footage with my cell phone, but one of the guys saw me. When they realized what I was doing, they ran after me, caught me, and broke my phone. I thought they were going to kill me, but they just let me go. So I ran home and told my dad.”
Steven grit his teeth for a moment, and then continued, “He just said that I was pretending, and that I must have dropped my phone and was making the whole thing up as a way to explain why I broke a four hundred dollar phone. So I called the cops, they said they would look into it, but then they called my dad. I’ve been trying to get people to believe me all month, but in the end, they just sent me to you, because apparently I’m ‘troubled.’”
Steven reached out and grabbed the pitcher of water, pouring himself a glass and taking a long drink as he fumed over the memories. “They treat me like I’m crazy, but I saw it… those girls were being abused by those men.”
Dr. Westwood listened quietly, making the occasional notes on her pad of paper, when it was clear that he was finished with his story, she said quietly, “I don’t think you’re crazy Steven. I don’t think you are crazy at all. When I was a young girl, my mother enrolled me in pageants. We were always warned about judges wanting to abuse us, in exchange for promises of winning. We wouldn’t have been warned so much if the threat wasn’t there, would we?”
Steven blinked a little, surprised that she seemed to believe him. He nodded slowly, “Uh… yeah.”
“Allow me to play devil’s advocate for a moment, Steven, but…” the doctor paused as she thought her words through, “Have you ever considered that maybe, the reason your father didn’t believe you… was that, being the principal of the school, he might have been in on what was happening to those girls?”
“Wh… what?” Steven asked, a little shocked by such a suggestion. He felt a sourness churning in his belly, and swallowed hard, taking another long drink from the glass.
“In fact, it’s even possible that the police are in on it…” The doctor laughed sweetly, “Or who knows, even me?”
“Are you making fun of me?” Steven asked, or tried to, his words coming out somewhat slurred as that sourness spread and he started to feel woozy.
“Not at all, Steven… Not at all. I’m sorry if you are feeling sick. The drugs in the pitcher of water are meant for an adult, not a kid. You might be somewhat overdosed.” She watched the glass fall from his hands as he slumped over on the couch, his eyes slowly closing. “If it’s any consolation, I really do believe you…”
Steven woke slowly, groaning as the drugs slowly cleared from his system. Dr. Westwood smiled, “Sorry about that Steven, most my patients don’t pass out like that. Still, it let me get you into position.”
He wasn’t in the same room. This room was darker, with a single heavy exam chair in the middle of the room, which he was strapped down to, padded leather restraints holding his arms, chest, legs, neck and forehead still. He thrashed a little, but even if he wasn’t drug addled, it would have been impossible to fight his way free of the bonds. He tried to talk, but something was in his mouth, spongy, but thick, and strapped in place like the restraints, preventing him from anything more than guttural grunts and groans.
Other than the doctor, the only other thing in the room that he could see was a TV hung on the wall, on which a spiral of colors slowly spun and twisted on itself, morphing and occasionally changing directions, so that the only point that never changed was the absolute center of the spiral.
Dr. Westwood chuckled softly, “Oh, I can see it in your eyes. You see the spiral, this dark room, the fact that you are locked down, and you’re thinking, ‘You did this. You brainwashed those little girls to become sluts.’ I didn’t though… I brainwashed their parents to ignore it.”
The doctor walked around behind him, whispering into his ear, “You see, society already brainwashed those little girls into becoming sluts. You’re probably already masturbating. Did you think girls wouldn’t start around the same time? Girls tend to start puberty before boys. That’s why they get taller and more mature so much faster. They think about sex far more than boys do.”
She listened to his grunting and watched him thrash, “Don’t believe me? Think about it… while you were playing cops and robbers, they were playing house… Daddy and mommy, making babies. While you were playing with action figures and running through the woods, they were playing with boy and girl dolls, and watching movies about princes romancing princesses. While you were dreaming of being an astronaut or fireman, they were dreaming about being princesses, or being married.”
“I mean, just their clothes, Steven… Colorful, pretty things all tied up with bows and ribbons. Just like a gift. Those girls at the cusp of puberty have been trained that their bodies are gifts to give, and that love is everywhere. But just as they start to want it, to really desire sex with men, society tells them that men like that are monsters, and that they are evil for even dreaming of such a thing.”
The doctor came back around into Steven’s view. “Fathers are terrified to even hug their daughters. Men won’t comment on their looks, or meet them in the eye, for fear of being branded pedophiles and having their lives ruined. It’s heartbreaking for men… but it’s devastating to those girls.
“At the time in their lives where they are most insecure about themselves, when they most want to be loved, adored, and pleasured. When they want to make babies and love men forever… they are spurned, scorned, ignored. They want to know what they did wrong. Why they aren’t pretty enough. It happened to me as a girl. It happens to all women everywhere.”
She shook her head, “Then comes the body shame. They believe it is their fault. They weren’t pretty enough, weren’t nice enough, weren’t right. They mutilate their bodies with fad diets and unnecessary surgeries, all to try to become what they already were. Lovable, fuckable girls. They spend the rest of their lives feeling… wrong.”
“It’s not their faults. It’s society. After seeing so many women in my practice who had fallen victim to it, I decided to approach investors, college deans and private school boards. Local officials, police, and men of power soon followed. I would get the parents to accept their daughters no matter what those girls decided to become, and in exchange, they got to enjoy those daughters, and help them feel beautiful.”
“In my day, if a girl won a pageant, all she got was a plastic tiara and some flowers, while her parents took the prize money. Now the prizes are college scholarships, and even participants who never win get at least partial scholarships. And those girls are never left feeling ugly, because even if they don’t win, they still were pretty enough for the judges and fans to want to fuck their brains out.”
“Oh, I know you don’t believe me, Steven. Society has trained you too well. But it’s alright. By the time you wake up, you’ll understand. Just look into the spiral and listen to my voice…”
Steven opened his eyes slowly, blinking away the strangest dreams. He was still in a chair, but it was a different kind. His skin stung, it was pink and raw, and his head was wet. He tried to get his eyes to focus, but then had to close them as water splashed across his forehead.
“Morning, sweetie,” he heard a male voice say in a cheerful and almost painfully gay accent, “Did you have a nice nap?”
He mumbled out, “My skin hurts…”
“Oh, I bet it does, princess. You just came out of a full body wax. Your body is hairless as a frog’s ass.” the man said in a sing-song manner as he washed Steven’s hair.
Princess?
Body waxing?
Steven felt panic set in, it churned in his guts like a monster eating him from the inside out, but his body refused to move. The feeling of someone massaging his scalp and washing his hair was just too… relaxing?
He tried to say, ‘What waxing? I’m not a princess; what’s going on?’ but all that came out was the last part, “What’s going on?” said in an almost childish, girlish voice.
The man laughed softly, “Oh darling, we’re getting you ready for your tryout for the pageant. I’m just washing the dye out of your hair now, and then we will see about sculpting it just right.”
The stylist finished washing his hair, and then levered the chair upright, letting Steven see himself in the mirror.
His brunette hair was now a platinum blonde, with electric purple highlights worked in. He blinked several times, “My… my eyes are blue…”
“They are indeed. It’s a laser treatment, really new. It kills the color in the cells of your eyes, leaving them permanently blue. It matches your new look a lot better, don’t you think? Oh, and the virgin waxing you got was in early enough, not enough hair had grown out of the peach fuzz stage, so it won’t grow back. No shaving or waxing for you in the future. It’s a life of silky smooth from here on out. I’m so jealous!”
Steven watched as the man worked at his hair, cutting his boyish cut into a pixie cut, which just highlighted his baby face even more strongly, and with the blue eyes, he really did look like a girl. Worse, his lips were a brighter shade of pink, and stung. “My lips…”
“Yes, we bleached them a little bit while we were bleaching your nipples and anus. Gave your lips and nips a more candy color, and took your cute little boy-pussy all the way to skin tone.” the man finished with his hair, and then pulled the smock away, revealing that Steven was naked under the cloth drape.
Steven looked at his lanky young body, now completely hairless, his skin lotioned and pinkish from the waxing. With the changes to his face and hair, and the lack of the attempt at body hair that his young body had been barely forming, he went from looking like a lanky, awkward boy, to a tomboy… a trappish boi… Even his ears were pierced, little pearl studs marking where the job had been done. He wanted to scream, to yell, to have a fit, but all that came out was a soft sound of surprise.
The man laughed softly, “I know, I know, I’m an artist. It’s not often I get to work with cute little sissies like you. I can’t wait until your hair grows out more and we can really style it.”
The man directed Steven towards a door at at the back of the salon, telling him it was ‘wardrobe’, and he could get dressed there, and then left Steven staggering towards the door, naked and horribly confused.
He opened the door and was stunned to see it was full of girls, most of whom were naked or just in panties, getting dressed. His jaw dropped, and his cock slowly rose to attention. He expected screams or an outcry, but all that happened was some giggling from some of the girls about how small his dick was, and the rest returning to getting ready.
One girl, looking to be older than the rest stepped up to him. She was blonde, blue eyed, and maybe fourteen, with b-cup breasts in a virgin white demi-cup bra, and her girlish hips holding up a pair of matching thong panties. She grinned at him and offered her hand, “Come on, come on, we have to get ready. What’s your name, sweetheart?”
Steven swallowed, “Uh… Stephanie. Wait… no… Stephanie… no, it’s Stephanie.”
The girls just laughed, and the older girl holding his hand said, “Wow, Mom really did a number on you. I’m Candace Westwood, but you can call me Candy. Think of me as your new big sister. I’ll be helping you until you get this all figured out, okay?”
Candy led Steven over to a lit vanity table, beside which stood a rack with several choices of clothing… and on one hanger, his t-shirt, jeans, boxers and socks. “So here’s the deal Stephanie. Mom said that she gave you a choice. If you can somehow force yourself to put on your old clothes, all her programming will break, and you will go back to being your old self. You’re still going to be hairless the rest of your life, and the bleaching and eye job will last the rest of your life too… so I guess not entirely your old self.”
He swallowed as he looked at his old clothes, trying to will himself to grab them, his hand slowly moving towards them, trembling as he fought against the programmed instincts.
Candy pushed up behind him, pressing her breasts against his back, with only her tiny bra between them, one of her hands slipped down to take hold of his erection, slowly stroking his cock, “Or… you can put on any other set of clothes on that rack. Doing so will mean that deep down you accept that you are now Stephanie, and her programming will be permanent. You will live the rest of your life as a girl. A pageant girl. Men will covet you, men will fuck you… and you will be primped and preened and put on stage. But you will also spend most of every year, until your eighteenth birthday, on the road with us girls, us horny, unchaperoned girls. And you will be able to fuck us to your heart’s content.”
He looked at Candy’s face in the mirror, taking note of the fuck-me red lipstick she was wearing. With her hand on his dick, slowly stroking it, he couldn’t help but imagine her sucking it, and a soft moan escaped his lips.
Stephanie’s lips were wrapped around the thick cock of one of the judges, her eyes looking up at him as she bobbed her head and moaned around his girth as he fingered her asshole. Her own cock bounced beneath her, drooling precum in response to the pleasure. She couldn’t remember the judge’s name, but it didn’t matter. Out of all the girls in the contest, he had picked her for some pre-pageant relief.
She could taste his precum on her tongue, along with the cherry lube that she used to keep her ass slippery, still clinging to his cock after he fucked her moments earlier. She knew he was about to pop and braced herself, pulling back so she could catch it all on her tongue.
She heard Candy call out from across the gym, “Better not swallow Steph! You don’t want to get fat!” which set a bunch of girls giggling and made Stephanie blush deep. With as much yoga, swimming and jogging the girls all did, there wasn’t any real danger of getting fat, especially from something as nutritious as a fat load from a judge.
The judge grabbed her pigtails and tugged her forward hard, several times, almost triggering her well trained gag reflex a few times, and then he pulled her back just enough to blow his load into her mouth, letting her gather it on her tongue.
She pulled her head back once his erection started to flag and giggled as she showed him the puddle of cum on her tongue, before slowly, sensuously swallowing it.
He chuckled and gave her a soft swat on the ass, “Go get dressed, beautiful.”
Stephanie nodded and gave a quick vulgar curtsy, in her completely naked state, and then ran off to the girl’s locker room to get dressed. She pulled on a pair of gauzy black stockings, fidgeting with the garter belt and garters, and then stepped into the black lacy g-string that just barely managed to cover her little dicklet.
Her dress was a rich maroon color, which had required re-dying the purple into her hair into a darker tone to compliment it, but it felt great on her skin, and the banding at the waist made her boyish body look far more feminine.
She would have to see Francis, the stylist, to get her hair properly coiffed before she walked the runway that night, but she didn’t mind. His hands were magic on her scalp.
About the time she was slipping on her high heels, Candy came into the locker room, walked right up to her and gave her a kiss on the lips. She glanced down at Candy’s loins and saw a trickle of cum oozing out of the girl’s pussy.
Stephanie giggled and bunched up her dress, so that she could kneel, and licked the inside of Candy’s thigh, all the way up, cleansing that trail of cum and suckling a bit more from the horny older girl’s pussy.
She heard Candy moan softly, “Oh, that feels so good… I saw that you didn’t get to cum… sneak over to my hotel room tonight after the pageant, and we’ll fix that.”
She gave a moan of her own, kissing Candy’s pussy, and then the little baby bump on Candy’s belly. She didn’t know if the child was hers, or some random guy, but it didn’t matter. Candy was her best friend, and her lover. The two were inseparable. She only wished that she could get pregnant too so that when they were both showing, they could both be in the ‘teen mom’ league. At least they both got to stay on the same bus and at the same hotels.
Life was good for Stephanie. She was at peace, and in love, as a girl should be. There were times, when she was dressed and strutting her stuff on stage, or showing off her special talent before a show, when she almost forgot all about Steven…
Almost.
Fin.
