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Archive-name: Changes/joe3.txt

Archive-author: Ruth White

Archive-title: Guinea Pig, The - 14-16

       Part 3 of the continuing adventures of Joe Watson



     It didn't take Joe's, now youthful, skin long to recover from

being dyed. While his face was still covered up, he was moved to a

new room. He saw it for the first time the morning Monica took off

his bandages. It was large, sunny, and finished in an extremely

feminine decor. Joe was delighted by his new room, although he

didn't know why.

     "No more breakfast in bed for you." Monica told him. 

     "This morning you get dressed and eat in the cafeteria with

the rest of us peasants. Now go and wash up, while I lay out your


     Joe felt anticipation grow in him for some reason. "Hey, it's

not such a big deal, going out for breakfast," he told himself,

mistaking it's source.

     There was no mirror in the bathroom, so Joe couldn't observe

the remodeling that had been done to his face. However, as he

washed, Joe could perceive some changes by touch; his nose felt

smaller, his lips were fleshy and appeared to project out, over

teeth that didn't seem to meet just right. He wondered about the

tattooing on his face. 

     "I think I read somewhere that they can be removed by lasers,"

he thought to himself.

     Then it occurred to Joe. "She's going to make me wear women's

clothing today."  

     He was surprised that the notion didn't trouble him. In fact,

he found the idea slightly pleasing. His worries over what had been

done to his face faded, as he thought about how Monica would dress


     Joe came out wearing only a robe. Monica handed him a pair of

pink satin and lace panties. Holding them up, Joe looked at them

and thought "these are going to be way too big for me." He pulled

them up his hairless legs and adjusted them around his hips. To his

great surprise, they were a perfect fit, except in the crotch where

his cock and balls were obvious by their outline. The panties

delighted Joe. He ran his hand over his ass, enjoying it's touch

through the satin on his soft skin. 

     "When I get out of here, I'm going to have some satin briefs

made for me," he decided.

     Monica held up a matching bra. Joe stared at it, speculating

on how his breasts would look, supported in the sheer cups. Monica

showed Joe how to don the bra. She adjusted the straps so that his

breasts were supported, and at the same time, displayed to their

best advantage. At the same time, Monica was sure to follow Dave

Weinstein's instructions to caress Joe's breasts and cock whenever

the opportunity presented itself. "Wow, a D-cup, and it's a tight

fit. He better give up those candy bars." Monica thought to


     Joe marvelled at the sensation of his breasts in their

delicate confinement. He could view his nipples and aureoles

clearly through the lace cups. He found the sight thrilling and his

cock stirred inside his pretty panties. 

     Monica interrupted his thoughts."Sit down here Joe."

     Motioning Joe to the chair, she held up a pair of what he

recognized as panty-hose.

     "Here Joe. You'll have to be very careful putting these on

with those dragon-lady nails of yours. They're ultra-sheer and it

won't take much to put runs in them. You pull the legs up like

this, put your foot in; the seam goes across your toes, pull it up

to your thighs, then do the other leg."

     Joe followed her instructions.

     "Good. Now position the crotch and pull the panty smoothly

over your hips."

     Joe stood there amazed at the feel of his legs encased in the

taupe colored nylon.

     "Man, I didn't know girls clothes could be such a turn on."

Joe thought, not realizing he was talking aloud.

     "Oh yes Joe. They can be so thrilling."

     Joe admired the way his legs glistened in the delicate

hosiery, delighting in the sensations he felt and the sound his

legs made when they brushed each other.

     Monica produced a slip, made of the same pink satin as Joe's

bra and panties, with a lacy bodice and hemline. She put it over

his head and let it slide down. Arranging the slip so that it hung

properly, she noticed that the profiles of Joe's excited nipples

were clearly discernable. The slip was a snug fit across Joe's

broad hips and Monica could see the outline of his stiff cock

underneath it.

     Looking in the large walk-in closet Monica was amazed at the

collection of clothing there; shoes, dresses, blouses, skirts,

gowns, everything a fashionable young woman could want. It was all

custom designed and made. She felt a momentary pang of jealousy

which vanished when she thought. "He'll never buy clothes off the

rack. He's a misses size ten with a size two waist and size

fourteen bust and hips."

     Returning with a pair of red leather pumps, Monica slipped

them onto Joe's feet. "Wow. How does he do it? Those heels must be

at least five inches high." Monica thought, watching Joe maneuver

effortlessly in his pumps. 

     Monica held out Joe's first dress as he stepped into it.

Resistance was the furthest thing from his mind; the transvestite

programming had taken control and he was really getting into the

swing of dressing up.     

     Monica guided Joe's arms into the half sleeves and pulled the

dress up over him. Made of pink polyester with the look and feel of

satin, it was a jacquard knit with a floral pattern woven into the

material. Making sure that the slip was positioned, and after

brushing against Joe's nipples, Monica pulled up the zipper. The

dress was a tight fit across Joe's bust and hips.

     The dress started with a high jewel neckline. Princess seaming

ran down the front, accenting Joe's large bust, ending in a peplum

that swaddled his womanly hips. The skirt of the pretty dress

appeared from under the peplum, continued to below Joe's knees,

with a slit in back so that he could walk. Monica buttoned the

half-sleeves at Joe's elbows. 

     Joe looked down. His forearms which had been tan, muscular,

and covered with wiry black hair were now pale white, slender, and

hairless. They extended from the sleeves to end in delicate hands

with long and luxurious fingernails. 

     Monica put a belt, covered in the same fabric as the dress,

around Joe's narrow waist and drew it tight. Joe was encased in

satin and was he ever turned on. Glancing down, he noticed his hard

nipples, their outline projecting through his clothing. Unable to

resist, Joe brought his hands up to his breasts and started

kneading them. Excited beyond reason, Joe dropped his right hand

and caressed his cock under his dress. This slight stimulation

proved to be too much, as his cock erupted and pumped it's load of

cum into his panties.

     Joe was dazed. Never before had he experienced such an erotic

rush. He stared at the expanding damp spot in his lap, then looked

sheepishly at Monica. In his sugary voice he stuttered "gee Monica.

I'm sorry. I didn't know ... "

     Dr. van damme and Dave had witnessed Joe's impulsive

ejaculation in his feminine costume.

     "Well Dave, it looks like your program worked."

     "Yes Doctor, but we are at a critical juncture here. You see

Joe's behavior is characteristic of a transvestite, as we wanted.

The problem with this is, once a transvestite has experienced

relief through orgasm he feels guilty. All he wants to do is get

out of the clothes and forget about them until the next episode. We

planned for this and think we can interrupt the pattern.

     Back in the room, Monica smiled sweetly at Joe. "Don't get

upset Joe." 

     Taking him by the shoulders, she forced him to look her in the

eyes. "What happened to you is perfectly normal. Sexy clothing can

be such a turn on. Now let's get you cleaned up."

     Monica reached down and undid the belt. Turning Joe around,

she unzipped his dress, eased it over his shoulders, and let it

slide down his body into a soft pile around his feet. She repeated

the process with his slip and it joined his dress on the floor.

     Joe stepped out of the pile of clothing and turned around to

face Monica. She placed her fingers under the waistbands of Joe's

panty-hose and panties. Going to her knees, Monica pulled Joe's

lingerie over his hips and down to his ankles.

     To Joe's great surprise, Monica started licking the cum from

his abdomen; she had never before shown the slightest interest in

intimacy with him. 

     Monica took his wilted cock in her mouth and Joe felt himself

becoming aroused by her ministrations. His cock tried to stiffen

and his nipples got hard. Monica sucked his balls and cock entirely

into her mouth and played with them with her tongue. She felt Joe's

cock start to get hard and released it from her mouth. She had Joe

slip off his pumps and remove his hose and panties. Joe stood there

wearing only his bra. He wished the pretty blonde would resume the

blowjob. She didn't. 

     Monica gave Joe a dressing gown to put on, which he did. He

was handed his hose and panties. "These have to be cleaned before

the cum dries in them," Monica informed him. "There is a bottle of

detergent for hand washing delicate fabrics under the sink. Follow

the instructions, roll them up in towel, then hang them over a bar

to dry. I'll take your dress and slip to the laundry and lay out

some other clothing."

     As he washed out his lingerie, Joe found his thoughts

concentrating on what clothing Monica would dress him in next. He

found the contemplation exciting. "Damn," he thought, "What is it

about women's clothing?"

     Joe doesn't know it yet," said Dave to Dr. van Damme, "but

from now on he'll find donning and wearing women's clothing to be

extremely arousing sexually."

     "That's excellent," said Dr. van Damme. "Because that's all

he'll ever wear.

     "Well, at least he has the body for it." rejoined Dave.



     "Take off your robe and bra," directed Monica.

     Joe's inevitable modesty asserted itself. "Can't I leave it

on? It didn't get messed."

     "Joe, as you learn to wear the clothing for which your body

has been designed, you'll find that, unlike your men's underwear,

different types of lingerie go with different outfits. What's right

with one, is inappropriate for another. Now get that bra off!"

     Joe struggled with his long nails and the unfamiliar bra

fastening in the small of his back.

     "I'd like to help you" thought Monica, "but you've got to

learn to manage in your new attire."

     Joe got the clasp released and his breasts spilled out of the

bra's lacy embrace. He stood there naked, holding his bra in one

hand with his other arm across his chest.

     "What a feminine pose," thought Monica.

     Monica went through the dresser. "There doesn't seem to be

another pair of panty-hose," she lied. "I wonder what we can do?" 

     Trying to pretend as though this had not been meticulously

planned, Monica pawed through the drawers. "Ah, that's it."

     Monica held out what looked like a black piece of lace with

strips hanging down. Joe recognized it as a garter belt. His wife

Gloria would never wear one, but some of his conquests had. Joe

blushed at thought of wearing the sexy garment yet, at the same

time, he found the idea thrilling.

     Monica fastened the tiny garment around his slim waist,

adjusting it so that the garters hung down in the proper position.

     "Sit down Joe."

     He did, and she handed him a pair of sheer black stockings.

     "Now carefully roll these up, fit the seam across your toes,

and then very carefully roll them up your leg."

     Joe did as he was told with the first one. Monica demonstrated

how to connect the two garters. Joe put on the other stocking and

got the garters attached. Joe stood up and Monica took the slack

out of the suspenders, so that the stockings were held securely on

his shapely legs.

     "What an odd sensation." Thought Joe, walking around to get

the hang of wearing a garter belt and nylons. He felt the garter

belt tight above his hips, unable to slip down, and the suspenders

flexing on his thighs as he walked, ensuring that his hose would

stay smooth.

     "Here Joe, put this on." 

     Monica handed him a white bra. Joe put it on as he had been

shown previously. Hooking the bra up backwards, turning it around,

and then pulling it up over his breasts. 

     Joe immediately became aware of several differences; the cups

were not see through, but the profile of his nipples were

unmistakable as they pushed out against the nylon cups, there were

inflexible semi-circles under each cup, and the straps did not come

over the top, but rather down the side of each breast. 

     The bra provided firm support so his breasts wouldn't bounce

around uncontrollably, but at the same time it pushed Joe's titties

together, holding them up and out. Joe eyed the resulting cleavage.

It shocked him that there was so much of it, but secretly thrilled

him. As was evidenced by his semi-erect cock.

     Monica held out what Joe thought were panties to match the

garter belt. He stepped into them and she pulled them up, over his

nylon covered legs. It wasn't a panty, but a very brief black satin

and lace bikini. 

     Monica adjusted it so that it rode on his hips. Joe's balls

were very tightly compressed, being forced up by the tight satin

crotch panel, which wasn't designed to hold them. Joe's erect cock

was held tightly against his abdomen, but the black lace wouldn't

stretch to cover the head of it. 

     "... Ah, Monica, maybe I should tuck it back between my legs?"

     "Why Joe, whatever would you want to do that for?"

     "You know ... to hide it."

     "Why? You're a man. Aren't you?"

     "Yes, but ... "

     "It still works, as you demonstrated earlier. Perhaps you'd

like me to ask Dr. van Damme to have it removed?"

     The suggestion chilled Joe. His cock and balls were the last

discernible evidence of his manhood.

     "That crazy doctor won't cut them off, will she?"  wailed Joe

in his girlish voice.

     "Now Joe. How do I know what Dr. van Damme has in store for

you?" lied the pretty nurse.

     Joe was really panicked. "Please don't let her cut my balls

off. Please get her to let me keep them."

     Monica looked at the pretty man as he wept; her teasing him

had gotten out of hand. She had to get him re-interested in


     "O.K. Joe. I promise you, that I'll see to it, that you'll get

to keep your precious little balls."

     Anxious to get the plan back on track, Monica held up a

sleeveless white silk blouse. Joe slipped his arms through the

delicate garment and Monica buttoned it up the back.

     Joe looked down. The square necked blouse opened up about

half-way up his breasts, their creamy white tops were revealed, and

the cleavage created by Joe's underwire bra left nothing to any

onlookers imagination. The blouse was taut across Joe's bust. He

noticed the outline of his nipples projecting out against the silk.

     "Is everything they make me wear going to fit like this?"

wondered Joe.

     Monica handed Joe a pair of black patent leather pumps. Joe

sat down to put them on. Looking at the spike heels, he was amazed

that he could even stand up in them, let alone walk around.

     Monica held out a black skirt as Joe stepped into it, then

tugged it up over his hips. It was a very tight fit. Joe had to

stand with his legs and knees pressed together, so she could get it

up, which only intensified the pressure on his already aching

balls. The skirt was made of black taffeta lined with acetate. Joe

liked the way it felt, but how could he walk in it. "Aren't skirts

supposed to have a slit in the back," he asked to himself.

     Once in position, the skirt fell to his knees. Monica

struggled to get the zipper up over his ass. Finally it was up.

Joe looked down; he was mortified. The skirt was so tight that it

outlined everything underneath it. Not only could he see a panty-

line and the clips of his garters, but the profile of his balls and

erect cock were clearly outlined by the tight skirt as it pushed

them up against his body.

     While Joe was considering his appearance, Monica wrapped a

wide black patent belt around his waist and cinched it tight. It

only contrasted the slender waist between his bust and hips. From

a large chest on the dresser, Monica selected some jewelry and

handed Joe a necklace of ebony beads and a matching bracelet. 

     Joe put them on. The bracelet dangled over his left hand and

the necklace settled in between his breasts, the black beads

drawing further attention to his creamy white cleavage. It was a

weird feeling, to have a necklace resting atop his breasts.

     "Don't move Joe," said Monica.

     She was holding what looked like large hoops of polished

ebony. Joe noticed that the circles didn't quite meet, but ended in

a little pin. He recognized them as earrings for pierced ears.

     "What the ... "  Joe said as Monica fiddled with his right

ear. He felt the post slide through a hole he hadn't known was

there, then a slight pinching sensation as the clasp was fastened.

Monica let the large earring dangle and Joe felt the weight of it

pull down on his earlobe. She had him put the other one in, moving

it about until he found the hole.

     Monica gave Joe a black patent clutch. "What do I need this

for?" he asked.

     "To carry your things in. In case you haven't noticed, your

skirt doesn't have any pockets."

     "Well what sort of things do I have to carry around?'

     "Not any make-up that's for sure, you silly boy," thought

Monica. Instead of telling him that she answered. "You never know

Joe. Let's start with a handkerchief." 

     She got a lacy hankie from the dresser and handed it to him.

     "Come on Joe, let's go, before breakfast is over."

     "Uh, Monica isn't there something else?"

     "Why yes there is Joe. How silly of me to forget it."

     She reached in the pocket of her uniform and pulled out a tag.

It read: 


     Monica attached it to the neckline of his blouse, right

between his breasts.

     This, coupled with the conspicuous display of his breasts and

male organs, was to much for Joe. 

     He started to weep. "I meant, don't I get a wig to wear?"

     "Why would you want to wear a wig Joe?"

     "So I don't look so foolish."

     "Well, I'm afraid Dr. van Damme wants you to appear as you

are, but I can assure you that you will have hair soon enough. Now

come on!"

     The embarrassed man tried to follow her, but he could hardly

walk. By trial and error he figured out how to move; taking short

mincing steps with his legs pressed together, and moving mostly

below the knees. This delicate stride made his hips sway, even more

than they normally did, and his ass swing in a wide arc.

     The sensations of wearing tight revealing feminine clothes

weren't the only things turning Joe on. The sounds he made as he

walked did also; his high heels clicked out a staccato beat which

echoed down the passageway, his nylon sheathed legs rubbed together

with a dainty sound, his skirt made delicious undertones as his

stockings slithered against the lining, and the swish, produced by

the friction between the lining and taffeta, as his hips gyrated in

their confining embrace. 

     Not only that but, pressed tightly between his tight skirt and

abdomen, Joe's cock was stimulated by the skirt shifting, every

time his hips moved.

     Joe thought, "I'd better be careful, or I'll shoot a load in

these clothes too."



     Joe wondered why he hadn't drawn any attention in the

cafeteria. "Surely, I must have been a sight," he thought. 

     Joe didn't know that there were two good reasons for his not

causing a commotion; Dr. van Damme's staff was well trained not to

display interest in anything out of the ordinary, and they had all

seen more outlandish creatures than Joe Watson result from the

Doctor's experiments.

     Monica hadn't allowed Joe his customary huge breakfast,

instead limiting him to cereal, skim milk, and fresh fruit. 

     Patting his taffeta wrapped behind Joe thought. "That's O.K.

I certainly don't need to put any more weight on." 

     Joe worried about how he would get it off, once he was

liberated from the island.

     Back in his new room, Joe sat in a chaise lounge. He tried to

adjust his position so as to relieve the pressure on his testicles.

He felt very vulnerable with them exposed and constricted the way

they were. The strain on them did not abate and any movement merely

caused further discomfort. He found out that sitting still caused

him the least suffering. 

     The room was equipped with a television. Turning it on, Joe

observed nothing but soap operas. There were some magazines in a

holder by his chair. He looked through them. They were all fashion

and women's magazines; Cosmopolitan and the like. Joe had a sinking

spell when he saw the dates on them; he'd been here quite awhile. 

     Bored, he picked up an issue of Vogue and started thumbing

through it. Before long his transvestite inclinations had taken

over. Looking at a particularly charming evening gown, Joe thought

to himself. "I wonder how I would look in that?"

     Just then Monica entered his room. "Get up Joe, you've got an


     "For what?"

     "Don't you worry about that. Just get moving."

     Joe tapped down the hall in his heels, attempting to keep up

with Monica in his restrictive apparel. Joe followed Monica into

what looked like a lecture hall. There was a chair in front

surrounded by machinery.

     "Sit in the chair Joe."

     Joe obeyed,and his aching balls were squeezed even more as he

settled his plump behind into the chair. Monica tightened straps

around his ankles, lap, waist, wrists, arms, and above his breasts.

A strap around his neck pulled him hard against the back of the

chair, but there was no headrest or support. Monica rubbed some

lotion all over his bald head.

     "What's this? The electric chair?" he joked.

     Monica didn't answer. Instead, she produced a ball gag, forced

it between his lips, and tied it in place. The lotion was then

applied to his forehead and eyelids.

     People came in, seated themselves throughout the room, and

talked quietly among themselves. The room was almost full when Dr.

van Damme entered with a man. Joe recognized him as the Doctor who

had given him his fingernails. The group hushed as Dr. van Damme

introduced Dr. Brenner then sat down. 

     "Has the desensitizing agent been applied to the subject?" The

Doctor asked Monica.

     "Yes sir."


     He pulled a piece of the equipment out, turned it on, and

swung it out on an extension over Joe's head.  

     "This is a further refinement of my work with the acrylics

that produced the subject's fingernails. First I turn on the laser

and outline the area to be covered."

     As he talked he rotated the machine completely around Joe,

keeping it focused on his head.

     "The outline is stored in the computer's memory. Then I just

turn it on like this."

     There was a humming noise, not unlike a sewing machine, and

Joe could feel a vibration in his head.

     "The color is selected, the machine mixes it, and then

extrudes it as a fiber which is randomly varied in cross-section

and color for a natural appearance. Select the length carefully

because, like the fingernails, once it's formed it's forever. The

strands won't burn, fade, can't be cut or dyed, but at least you

don't have to worry about split ends. Otherwise, the fibers are

indistinguishable from organic hair. They need to be washed,

regular shampoo will do, and sprays and gels will control the

strands allowing them to be styled in any manner. I think what I

have here is the ultimate in hair replacement."

     Joe worked at his gag. "What are they doing to me now?"

     "The newly formed fiber, before it solidifies, is connected to

a needle and inserted into the skull where, once it sets, it is

anchored permanently and can't be pulled out."

     The machine hummed on. 

     After awhile it stopped. The Doctor moved another unit to the 

front of Joe's face.

     "To replace hair not on the scalp, this device allows the

fibers to be secured in the skin, much like a hair root. Also, like

natural hair, these strands can be pulled out, but I understand

that it's quite painful."

     The Doctor aimed the light at Joe's forehead twice then turned

it on. Joe felt a sensation of pressure on his forehead over each

eye and then it was done.

     "As you can see the length, color, and thickness are totally


     The machine stopped. The Doctor examined Joe's face. Joe saw

the Doctor peek down at his cleavage, and felt a twinge of shame.

There was more than a professional interest in the Doctor's eyes. 

     Was it desire?

     The Doctor grabbed Joe's right eyelid and pulled it out. Using

tweezers to grasp it, he moved the unit over to engage and clamp

down on it.

     "The machine even allows for individual detail work."

     The machine buzzed slowly and Joe felt a tugging on his

eyelid. The process was repeated on his bottom lid and then the

left eye.

     The small machine was pulled away. 

     Joe blinked. His eyelids were heavy and he felt lashes brush

on his cheek.

     "What have they done to my eyes?" he thought.

     The Doctor spoke. "Now that the main unit is finished we can

open the accumulator."

     There was a click and Joe felt a weight on his head. He

couldn't see it, but he experienced the odd sensation of mass

pulling on his scalp.

     The Doctor was congratulated by his fellows and they all

departed, leaving Joe and Monica alone. Monica came up and released

his bonds.

     "See I told you you'd have hair soon enough. Now you have to

worry about taking care of it."

     Joe's gag was removed and the restraints released. Standing

up, he felt the unfamiliar sensation of hair brushing against his

neck and shoulder blades. Joe reached up and touched an enormous

mass of hair. He pulled a handful forward over his shoulder. It was

the color of gold.

     He was a blonde.


     Joe ran his long red fingernails through his long blonde hair.

The transvestite in him loved it. He pulled more over. Hair covered

the tops of his breasts and Joe could feel his new tresses hanging

down his back, almost to his waist.

     Incredulous, Joe followed Monica back to his room. She left

him sitting on the chaise, still gazing at handfuls of his

magnificent blonde hair. After awhile, Joe recovered from this blow

only to get another; a full-length mirror had been positioned on

the wall on the other side of the room. Joe just looked at it,

afraid to go over and see his reflection. Finally his curiosity

overcame his misgivings and the trembling man shut his eyes and

walked over in front of the mirror.

     Opening his eyes, Joe saw the most desirable woman he had ever

laid eyes on. Completely astounded, he stared at her. The girl in

the mirror appeared to be about twenty or twenty-one. Long blonde

hair framed a oval face. Her eyebrows were narrow semi-circles,

arching highly above provocative green eyes. Long lashes, thick

with mascara, curved out from lids lined heavily in black. The blue

shadow on the eyelids darkened to purple in the eye crease, then

softened, as it rose, to become silver under the eyebrows. 

     The pert nose and high cheekbones added refinement to her

face. Her skin was soft and ivory colored, except for rosy red

cheeks. Opulent red lips smiled sweetly at him and begged to be

kissed. In back of them, perfect white teeth sparkled. "That's me."

Joe cried.

     The only familiar reference was his green eyes, but even they

were different; more open and wider as if he viewed the world in

perpetual wonder. And those lips!

     "But I'm not smiling," thought Joe.

     The cosmetic surgery which had made his lips full and

protruding had somehow formed his mouth into a permanent smile. Joe

noticed that the bright red lip color matched his nails, and that

his make-up was a trifle on the heavy side. "Wait a minute," he

thought. "I don't have any make-up on." 


     "That's tattooed on my skin!"

     Joe's panic was short lived as he stood there and stared at

himself. He loved this babe whose image the mirror reflected and he

lusted for her. Meanwhile the transvestite in his mind relished how

sensual he looked. Joe became more and more aroused the longer he

studied his reflection in the mirror. He had been reconstructed to

look like a girl from one of his sexual fantasies. He couldn't

believe it. 

     Joe's tiny feet were perched on black patent high heels.

Shapely legs, encased in sheer black nylons, disappeared into the

tight skirt which defined the contours of his broad hips which were

further emphasized by the wide belt wrapped around his

infinitesimal waist. 

     Joe's massive breasts strained against his silken blouse

revealing an expanse of cleavage guaranteed to arouse the interest

of any man who hadn't been dead for over an hour. A beautiful face,

long blonde hair, slim arms, and graceful hands with their long red

fingernails completed a vision of loveliness; Joe was every inch a

stunning and desirable young woman.

     Except for those inches outlined under his tight skirt!

     Joe gazed at his reflection. His arousal grew until finally,

without a touch, he ejaculated into his tight taffeta skirt.

     Released from his enchantment, Joe removed his belt then tried

to get his tight skirt off. It was tough going; getting the zipper

down over his rounded ass, what with the long nails and all.

Eventually he got it down, peeled the skirt off, stepped out of it,

and threw it in the hamper.

     Joe saw the advantage now of the bikini he wore. Since the

head of his cock was not covered, he had come into the skirt, and

his panties were unsoiled. There was some gooey residue on his

abdomen however, and Joe went to the bathroom to get a tissue and

wipe it off.

     Once there though, Joe could only stare at the cum on his

belly. He found himself filled with an overpowering need to taste

it. Joe placed the tip of his right index finger in the sticky goo,

then brought it to his red lips. His tongue snaked out and licked

it. "Hmm." It tasted salty and somehow familiar. 

     Joe rubbed the fingers of his other hand in the sticky mess

and brought it to his mouth. Hungrily he lapped his cum of off his

fingers loving every drop of it.

     "What's going on?" Joe wondered. Why did he find eating his

cum so satisfying? 

     Joe decided that his body craved salt because of the lack of

it in his diet. His chagrin alleviated by this bogus

rationalization, Joe repeated his actions, alternating hands and

sucking on each finger until it was clean. Somehow still compelled

by his mysterious hunger, Joe returned to his bedroom. 

     Joe walked to the hamper. He didn't want to do this but was

powerless to resist. Slowly, he reached into the hamper and

withdrew his soiled skirt. Turning it inside out, he raised it to

his lips, and hesitantly licked at the damp lining. Joe could taste

his cum. He drew the material into his mouth and sucked at it

vigorously. "What's happening to me," he wondered. He didn't really

want to be doing this but something inside his mind forced him on. 

     "Is all this dressing and looking like a woman making me act

like one?" Joe asked himself.

     Joe sat on the chaise lounge feeling silly. He'd tried to

remove his blouse but couldn't reach the buttons in back, so he

remained as he was; half dressed.

     Monica entered. She knew what had transpired, having watched

the interlude from Dr. van Damme's office. "Let's get you undressed


     "What should I wear to dinner?"

     Monica wanted to say: "You've just had your dinner. Do you

really want some more," but instead said "it's too late for dinner,

but I'll get you a snack when your ready for bed."

     Joe removed his jewelry. Monica unbuttoned the blouse and Joe

shucked it off and put it in the hamper. Joe removed his shoes and

placed them in the closet, removed his bikini, undid the garters,

unhooked the garter belt and took it off. Joe removed his bra and

stockings and went to the hamper with his lingerie.

     "Wait a minute Joe. You have to wash your undies out by hand

every night."

     Handing him a short nightie, Monica said, "Clean them like you

did your panties and hose this morning."

     Joe put on the nightie to cover his breasts. 

     When he was done and had hung his underwear up to dry, he

returned to the bedroom where Monica was waiting for him. Holding

out a sandwich and glass of milk she said, "here eat this then get

in bed."

     After eating, and when Monica had left, Joe lay in bed,

enjoying the luxuriousness of the satin sheets. He decided he liked

the way his head nestled in the bulk of his blonde hair.

     Joe didn't get dressed the next day. Monica brought him his

breakfast, then Betsy arrived. Joe spent the day with her learning

to care for his new hair. Betsy showed him how to wash, dry, and

style it, trying to make Joe feel good about what had been done to

his appearance. "Just think Joe, you'll never have to get a

haircut." Or, "Think of the time you'll save not having to spend

hours putting on or removing cosmetics."

     "But why would I ever want to wear make-up in the first

place?" thought Joe.

     By the end of the day Joe could arrange his hair in any number

of fashions;  from a tight bun to adorable little ringlets.

     Joe woke up groggy the next morning. He stumbled into the

bathroom and splashed water on his face. There was now a mirror

over the sink. It shocked him to see his face, first thing in the

morning, all made up as if he had just left a beauty salon.

     "I guess I'll have to live with it for awhile," he thought. "I

know tattoos can be removed or covered up. I'll get rid of this

face once I'm home."

     Joe opened the closet and looked at the vast array of dresses

there wondering which one he might be dressed in today. He got

turned on thinking about the clothing. Going to the bathroom he sat

on the toilet and massaged his breasts until his cock was hard. Now

when he masturbated he used his right hand and beat off into his


     After he had come, he consumed the semen in his hand, savoring

every drop.

     "Surprise Joe!" said Monica. "You get to go to the beach

today. You need some color."

     Instead of a dress Monica put Joe in a swimsuit. It was a very

revealing one-piece made of spandex. The strapless suit was black,

except for the elasticized top which was white with a big bow over

his bust. Naturally, everything was revealed, including his male


     Joe was given a white cotton cover-up, some sandals, and a

gold chain was locked around his neck. "Sorry about the sandals

Joe, but they're all I can find for the beach. Don't try to remove

that chain, it's a locating device in case you get lost. Don't even

think about trying to run away. Dr. van Damme owns the whole

island, there's nothing else close, and no way off it . Parts of

the island can be very dangerous, and you can't go very far or very

fast with your feet."

     Joe was turned over to Betsy who took him to a lovely secluded

beach, put lotion and sunscreen on him, and saw to it that he

tanned properly. 

     After several days of this, Joe looked like a bronze goddess.

     Joe considered his dressing as a woman. It didn't seem to

bother him at all any more. In fact, as he would admit only to

himself, he got a kick out of it. While his physical development

had been, for the most part, gradual allowing him to acclimate

himself to the changes in his body, he had been abruptly thrown

into the world of women's fashion which was totally alien to him. 

     Some of it took some getting used to, especially bras and

hosiery. If he wasn't at the beach or sleeping, Joe was wearing a

bra and either stockings or panty-hose. Joe hadn't as yet been able

to accept as normal, the wearing of stockings. He was mesmerized by

the appearance of his shapely legs in shimmering nylon. Not only

that, but whenever he wore hose, which was most of the time, the

feeling of his hairless legs in their delightful embrace drove him

to distraction. Added to which, were the exquisite sensations he

received as the delicate fabrics of his apparel massaged his legs

through his ultra-sheer hosiery.

     Joe had always thought that a bra was a bra, not knowing of

the vast assortment available to women for different purposes;

bandeaus, underwires, long-lines, front-hook, back-hook, natural

cup, strapless, and more. Joe was learning quickly though; he wore

them all. The one bra that Joe just couldn't get comfortable in was

the demi-bra, this infernal design just held his jugs out but

didn't cover the nipples at all. Five minutes in a demi-bra under

a slip, blouse, or dress and Joe's nipples would be rock hard and

his cock ready to pop.

     Joe had gone through a hard enough time getting accustomed to

having tits, but now he was kept constantly aware of their presence

on his chest by the firm pressure of the well-stuffed brassieres he

wore. It had become unnerving to go without one, as he did now.

          One of Joe's questions had been answered for him as,

piece by piece, he was dressed through the contents of his new

wardrobe.  Yes, everything they gave him to wear fit just like his

first outfits did. Every single bit of clothing was tight, sheer,

revealing, and sensuous; designed to put on display the feminine

qualities which Joe now possessed in abundance. 

     There wasn't anything that could even be considered normal day

wear. Not only that, but lately Monica and Betsy had been treating

him like a mannequin, entertaining themselves by dressing him in

whatever fashions caught their fancy. 

     Take this morning for instance; Joe was very self-conscious,

knowing he was dressed inappropriately for breakfast, let alone

cafeteria dining, but this was how Monica had bedecked him this

morning. He had been poured into a strapless, long, black velvet,

evening gown. Having been given no bra, his enormous breasts

jiggled with every step, seeming as if they would leap out of the

gown's embrace at any moment. Black satin pumps, along with shapely

legs and thighs clad in filmy black panty-hose, revealed

themselves, snaking out through excessively high slits in his

skirt. Joe's hair had been brushed out straight and styled so that

it fanned out over his back, covering his shoulders like a yellow

cape. Long elaborate rhinestone earrings dangled from his ears

matching the sparkling necklace and bracelets that he wore. As Joe

ate his low-fat cottage cheese, he thought, "I should be in a

whisky advertisement." 

     Joe found this funny for some reason. Giggling, he spilled

some cottage cheese onto the bare top of his breast. He tried to

wipe it up discreetly, but every male eye in the room was glued to

him, Dr. van Damme's instructions notwithstanding. 

To be continued ...



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