A Perfect Fit

But when he thought about what had happened in the bathroom... the shock was immediately mixed with a resurgence of excitement, oflust. Some new part of him hadliked it, hadfed on the delicious helplessness. And thoughts of Vinicius himself sparked an even more chaotic flurry of emotion.

As long as he thought in the abstract... if he thought aboutsomeone stealing his dick, and toying with his mind, andfinger-fucking him, he could be properly indignant, even outraged. But if he thought specifically thatVinicius had done so, his fury collapsed.

Remembering the man's hands, so surely and confidently reducing him to jelly, caused his skin to flush and his breath to come more rapidly. He wasscared to be angry at Vinicius. (Steve finally, absently noticed that he wasn't using the man's surname anymore, even in his thoughts.) He was commanding, intimidating, and alluring... and each fed into the others. He knew that it was wrong, but it didn'tfeel wrong to be aroused by, and attracted to, his sheer animal power.

Steve finished eating and made his way to the living room, intending to sit on the couch. Before he'd arrived there he'd changed his mind. He had to understand his situation, figure out what was going on. Unknowns were dangerous, and his own body was now a critical unknown. He went upstairs, closed the blinds, and took off his clothes. There was a mirror over the dresser.

Aside from the nipples and his crotch, things seemed the same. He was a bizarre mix - a fit, lean man with women's genitals. He walked about in a small circle and confirmed a suspicion he'd developed - his gait had changed slightly, his hips were subtly reconfigured - not wider, just shaped differently. A quick, experimental snap-kick revealed unexpected flexibility, it reached inches higher than his previous limit. He wasn't unusually hairy for a man, but his legs looked strange beneath that clearly feminine groin.

Reluctantly he examined the... vagina between his legs. The task proved to be more difficult than he'd anticipated; he ended up laying on the bed with a hand mirror. Aside from its terrifying location, it proved to be a disquietingly normal example of the type. Pert, symmetrical lips; a cute clitoris demurely hiding beneath its hood. A short distance within there was even what had to be a hymen. He would have found it attractive, placed in other surroundings.

The attention of his hands, however, was causing it to stir alarmingly. He bolted off the bed with alacrity and wiped off his fingers. He moved to the mirror, shifting attention to his nipples. Again, except for their placement, they were entirely typical out to the edge of the areolas: at that point his normal chest hair reappeared. They were by now erect and firm, and sensitive to his exploratory contact. Somehow they seemed connected to the awakening flesh below, bestirring his arousal further.

It feltso good. In his imagination, Vinicius' magnetic eyes watched him as one hand descended and began to rub his new lips and clit. His back arched, almost involuntarily. He began to picture himself putting on a show, displaying his submission, affirming what Vinicius had made of him... his toy, his pet, his... hisslut. Steve's sighs waxed into moans and then shrieks as he came again, almost as violently as before.

As the pleasure faded he came to a sick realization of how thoroughly the hooks had sunk into his very being. Gathering the scraps of his willpower, he pulled his hands away from his still-eager, throbbing flesh and fought to calm down. It took time, much time, but eventually he'd restored some sense of equilibrium.

As noted, Steve was not one for surrendering. He assailed the problem from many angles as the evening wore on, but it was like there were now trapdoors scattered across his mind. Considering certain aspects or specifics of his situation would drop him down a slippery ramp toward shuddering lust, and only immediate and frantic effort would keep him from entertaining dangerous fantasies... and succumbing to them. His pussy's appetite and aptitude for pleasure displayed no apparent limits as the night wore on. It took a firm and careful rein on his own thoughts, consideration of the issues only in the most general terms, to retain his self-control.

He went to bed, very late, demoralized and without even a vague idea how he could proceed. Even that was disquieting; normally he slept naked, but he found that he needed a shirt to protect his... chest from unwanted stimulation. He feared what tomorrow would bring... but the despised new parts of his psyche felt a cloudy anticipation, too.

...

Steve woke at the sound of his alarm and sat up. There was no confusion about his circumstances; it had been a restless, fitful night, and from the few snippets he could recall it was perhaps a mercy that he didn't clearly remember his dreams. But the bed was wet where his crotch had lain.

He showered, briefly and unthinkingly; he could not risk devoting too much attention to his altered body... but he also couldn't go to work smelling like he did. He pondered calling in sick but he didn't want to stay home where it was clear he could be easily gotten to. He chose a stiff, thick shirt, hoping it would hide the nubs on his chest if they awoke. The rest of his morning ritual was comforting in a way, but tension underlaid the whole proceedings. He wrestled with the decision he had to make all along his drive to work. Presenting his credentials as usual, he was admitted to the secured areas and he sat down to go over his morning briefings and case reports.

In the end, he couldn't do it. He came close, several times, to alerting his boss that he'd been compromised. But he never quite made it to Edwards' office. It wasn't just that it was career suicide; he had a strong sense of duty and patriotism, and was willing to put that over his own ambitions... if only barely. But acknowledging what had happened... exposing his complete humiliation to others... it was just too much. Telling his superiors that he'd been magically castrated - tellinganyone - well, no man could face that without pause. He'd be probed, studied, examined. Treated like a lab animal. And snickered at...

Work, too, was reassuring. He was incredibly relieved to confirm that he wasn't looking at other men in a sexual way. Thoughts of Vinicius' appearance had to be quickly stifled for the shivers they brought, but his co-workers were just other guys. Just as happily, he still found women attractive... though if he went too far in that vein, he started to feel his fantasies and desires warp in unfamiliar directions. Still, he could function on a business level. In many ways his day went entirely normally.

But he felt like an imposter going into the men's room, walking past the urinals and sitting at a toilet to pee. Wiping was emotionally but not physically excruciating.

He took a chance and did some digging on Vinicius, striving to adopt a mindset of abstract research, though it was hard to maintain; his interest was more than academic, after all. Still, there was little to discover; mostly travel records. He'd apparently never attracted much official attention. A Brazilian citizen from a well-off family. Studied anthropology and history abroad in several countries. Well-traveled since then, too - he'd been on every continent, including Antarctica. It wasn't clear where his money came from, but Steve didn't dare initiate a more thorough search that might be noticed. No known ties to any organizations of interest.

He stayed later than usual, putting off the inevitable. Deviating from routine too much might draw attention from the internal agency watchdogs, however, which he could not afford in his current predicament. He ate dinner out, dread and excitement mounting simultaneously. When he pulled into his garage, his stomach was churning with the volatile mix of desire and fear. He was mentally rehearsing what he'd say and how he'd react if Vinicius was there... but he had little confidence that he'd actually be able to follow through.

He entered the kitchen gingerly, and when he saw that the living room was dark he was pierced to the heart with relief... and disappointment. He recognized that he was psyching himself out, but the rigid grasp he'd always kept on his emotions was getting rather frayed.

A quick tour showed that the ground floor was as he'd left it. He felt more reassured still as he went up the stairs and saw that the lights were off. Again, a survey cleared the area. He stood in the bedroom, glad to be spared a confrontation... or mostly glad, at least.

He almost screamed when the voice came from behind. "Good evening, Mr. Harper." Displaying the reflexes he'd been complimented on last night, he whirled around in a flash.

Vinicius sat in the chair in the corner, casual and relaxed. Once again Steve was transfixed by the man's handsome appearance, even as his mind frantically tried to account for his sudden presence. The Brazilian hadnot been there when he'd swept the room seconds ago.

"You... I don't... Please, leave me alone..." It was hard to talk, to think; he just wanted to drink in that amazing face, that lean body. He knew that he should be shouting, cursing, but he suddenly felt so confused. All of the strong words he'd planned had dissolved, vanished. His nipples were perking up, so hard and sharp that his shirt couldn't conceal them. It was embarrassing, but part of himwanted Vinicius to know how turned on he was becoming.

"Hush." At the word Steve's feeble protests ended and he fell silent, abashed. "I promised I would come today, and I am, as they say, a man of my word." The white, even teeth flashed by his grin were captivating. "Are you truly so sad to see me?"

Given leave to speak, he cried "Yes!", his voice breaking. He remembered the root of the term 'hysteria' and almost despaired. "You... changed me... attacked me..." He could feel himself flushing,lubricating, at the images in his mind.

A mock frown wrinkled his brow. "Indeed? I don't recall spirited opposition." He almost leered then, but somehow even that was...sophisticated, coming from him. "It must have been terrible."

The warmth he felt on his face... he must be bright red. "I didn't... You... I wouldn't have..." He didn't know what to do with his hands.

"What did I do that was so upsetting?"

"You... touched me, held me... felt me..."

"That doesn't sound so fearsome." The feigned puzzlement gave way to a serious expression. "Show me. What did I do that offended you so?"

"Please, don't make me..."

"Show me," he ordered, in a tone like steel.

Steve collapsed inside. He could not stand up to Vinicius, he was like a physical force. Where had his willpower gone? Yesterday he had been a cold-blooded killer. Now he was timid and bashful... and his blood was anything but cold.

With trembling fingers he reached up to his chest and pinched his nipples through the shirt. "First, you squeezed my... my chest..."

Sternly: "No."

It took him a second. He quailed within, but he felt his still-alien clitoris swell when he understood what Vinicius meant. The holster slipped off and was cast away; slowly, he began to unbutton his shirt. "You... you took off my shirt, like this." It fell to the floor.

"And then?"

He looked away shyly. "You took off my undershirt." Slowly he pulled it over his head and dropped it softly to the ground.

"Did I? What did I do after that?"

"You squeezed my nipples." He began to play with the strange, stiff nubs on his chest, marveling at the sensations they evoked. It was like an erection, but more concentrated, and there were two of them, and they seemed to be connected toeverywhere. His pussy was flushed, straining...

Vinicius allowed this to go on for some time. Steve was moaning softly; he'd never made much noise during sex before, but the feelings swamping him demanded expression. Eventually, his audience queried, "You find this unpleasant, then?"

Lying was out of the question. "No," he whispered.

"What was that?"

Compelled, he spoke in a loud, husky voice. "No."

"How does it feel?"

The delay was brief, barely perceptible. "Good, oh God, so good," he panted. "Ilike it." Why had he added that? It was true, but it felt so...naughty to admit it.

Vinicius' frown had returned. "We must explore further, then, and find what upset you so." He seemed so casual, and yet Steve couldn't imagine refusing him. "What happened next?"

"You... you touched me. Down there."

"Where?" Like a schoolteacher, eliciting the proper answer.

"On my... mypussy." Oh, God, why did it feel so good to say it?

"How could I?" The accent was so charming... "You are still wearing pants."

He was suffused with embarrassment; he hadn't been reenacting things properly... and then, as he became aware of that thought, he was embarrassed by how thoroughly involved he'd become in Vinicius' game. But it couldn't shake him loose of the control; indeed, his breath came faster as he began to unbuckle his belt. "I'm sorry, sir." The honorific just slipped out, naturally, without a conscious decision.

He kicked off his shoes, one by one, and eased the pants down; slowly, flirtatiously. He realized he was doing astriptease for the man who'd stolen his maleness. Where resentment, whererage should have been, there was only shame... and a growing, dazed wonder at how erotic it all was.

He stepped out of the pants and turned slightly as he began to slide off his briefs, gradually. It was indescribably exciting, so sexy. His reservations meant nothing anymore, they hardly registered; he was in another world now, where other rules applied. The only anxiety he felt was fear that Vinicius wouldn't find him attractive.

His audience simply regarded him, infinitely superior, a lord surveying a peasant. Steve kicked the briefs away with a flair and ran a hand down his belly toward his...his snatch, his twat. It was on fire,he was on fire. It didn't feel alien now; it was too powerful, too deeply rooted to be anything but part of his being.

He fell to his knees, legs spread. He plumbed the strange and wonderful new convolutions of his crotch, feeling the delicious slippery friction, hearing the slurping wetness, smelling his own new musk. All for Vinicius, who had ignited this glorious conflagration within him. He gave voice to passionate moans and whines; he had no control, it was was if his pussy was crying out directly.

It was so much like his fantasy of the night before that he wondered if Vinicius could read his mind. As he raised his head and gazed into those oh-so-compelling eyes, he felt as if they were peering into his very soul, that every secret within him was laid bare before this irresistible presence. He felt tiny and humble... and unbelievably hot.

A hint of a smile on that face; he knew, hemust know. "Oh, oh God, oh please, oh my Gooood!" Again his climax was intense and cataclysmic and unmanned him, completely and literally.

As a man an orgasm had been a final thing; once he had come, arousal dropped precipitously, and didn't return for a time. His new parts didn't have that limitation; arousal receded somewhat, but came nowhere near zero. He was still hungry,starving for more.

It was enough for him to remember how degrading this all was, though... or at least, how degrading it should have felt. There was barely a flicker of resentment, however. He was ashamed... but eager.

Vinicius was smiling broadly. "That didn't appear so upsetting. Tell me, how do you feel?"

He didn't evenwant to lie. "Hot," he panted. "Sexy."

"You enjoyed that, did you?"

"Yes," he admitted coquettishly. He wasflirting!

"Do you wish me to leave now?"

"No!" he anxiously and unthinkingly exclaimed.

"Well, then, I appear to have done you a favor. It is only right that you repay my kindness," Vinicius admonished sternly.

Steve suffered a thrill of terror. He thought he knew where this was headed, but he realized that he was too worked up, too far gone, to refuse Vinicius now. He'd do practicallyanything... and understanding that, he felt himself become even wetter.

The man stood up from his chair. "Come, approach me."

Steve began to stand, but the words came sharply. "On yourknees."

He crawled forward, face burning, but whimpering with lust. To Steve, Vinicius looked... magnificent from down on the floor. His submission was total. He reached Vinicius' feet and stopped, trembling. Unbidden, he bowed his head. He could feel juices running into his pubic hair, onto his belly...

The moment stretched... and then he called down. "Remove my shoes."

He reached forward. "Yes..."

Viciously: "Yes,what?" Steve paused. It was appalling how little resistance he could mount, how the words were squeezed out of him.

"Yes, Master." He shivered. The cool air running over his naked skin, perking his nipples... it did nothing, he was still sohot...

The shoes came off, one by one. The pungent smell should have been off-putting... but it was arousing instead. It was his Master's smell.

"Now, the pants."

He reached up, fumbling for a moment, unhooking the belt, pulling it free. His hands grew surer. The pants had a single button, easily undone. The sound of the zipper descending made him shiver again. Hewanted this. It didn't feel like the desires were being imposed from without. It was like he was awakening to parts of himself that had always been there, latent, waiting for the proper time to stir and bloom. It felt natural, right, and wonderful.

He pulled the pants down. Vinicius wore boxers. That struck Steve as more manly than briefs... and that was somehow more sexy. He was gratified to see that, despite Vinicius' affected detachment, he was sporting a prominent erection, stretching the sleek fabric. Steve wanted desperately to please him.

There was something else he wanted desperately, too. He leaned forward and took hold of the boxers with his teeth. The smell was intoxicating, the feel of the smooth cloth against his cheek was delicious. It had to be real silk. Slowly he descended, slipping the undergarment to Vinicius' ankles to join the pants. He sat up again and regarded his Master's cock.

Intellectually, he knew he should have been disgusted, repulsed; that awareness was purely abstract, however. In reality, it was concretely fascinating. It was somehow more immediate, more impressive, morereal than any he'd seen before. He'd never inspected any prick so closely or intently in his life, not even his own. It was... not beautiful, exactly, but... enticing. Stimulating. Suggestive. It was uncircumcised and the head glistened slightly, extending out past the retracted foreskin. Master's pubic hair reminded him of nothing so much as the mane of a proud lion. The balls hung low in the scrotum, too masculine for words.

"Touch it." Was Vinicius' voice just a bit throaty, a fraction strained? Steve hoped so. He needed no further encouragement, and gently took hold of the member. It felt amazing, strong, powerful. It might as well have been electrified for the tingling that ranged through his whole body at the contact. He stroked it gently for a time, marveling at the feeling, and at his own enthusiasm. Admiring the naked lower half before him, he wondered what anentirely unclothed Vinicius would look like, and hoped to find out soon. He was ready to do more, much more, but despite his straining anticipation, he could not dream of proceeding without permission.