Angela's Revenge

She had to force herself to crawl off the bed, go back into the living room. She shakily lit a cigarette, found that it actually tasted good, and tugged her dress down below her waist. Now, to let him stew for a few minutes.

Angela knew exactly what she had to do next - and knew, without any doubt, that it would work. Everything was crystal clear. She was in complete control, for the first time in her entire life. And she vowed never to give it up, to anyone, ever again.

She made and drank a cup of coffee. She could hear his furry-tongued complaints in the next room, but was fairly certain he couldn't escape. She couldn't resist peeking a couple of times to be sure. Her quick glimpses reassured her.

When she finally allowed herself to return to him, he was struggling, crab-like, against the ropes. "Turn me loose," he tried to demand. His voice carried more fear than force, and filled her with her earlier raw savagery.

"No way in hell, asshole. We've got a whole night of fun ahead of us. Besides, look at your cock. You're already hard as a fucking rock again. You like being tied up. I'll bet there are other things you'd like, too."

Her laughter mocked his denials. She wrapped her hand around his shaft, still sticky with cum, and stroked it.

"You were right, you know. I do love looking like this, acting like this. I've always been afraid of my sexuality, afraid that if I indulged it, like you wanted me to, I'd lose part of myself. I never dreamed that I'd gain something, Roger."

He was trying to focus on her words, and having trouble doing it. Between the drug and his re-building desire, listening was almost beyond his capabilities. She should've given him less of the sleeping pill, she thought. She gave up his prick, knowing that'd both frustrate him and leave a little more of his awareness available to understand what was going to happen.

His eyes tracked her into the bathroom. The feel of his gaze sent a chill through her, made her even more aware that there was a seductive strength in her that she never again wanted to be without. She was in control, not only of herself, and her lover, but her entire life. Empowerment. She paused before the mirror, looked at herself quizzically. It really wasn't about Roger anymore. It was about herself. It wasn't about revenge anymore. It was about justice. This was right for both of them.

She returned to the bedroom with the bag she'd packed and hidden in the linen closet. He was obviously puzzled. She held up his cordless electric razor. Until she clicked it on and moved it toward his thigh, he had no idea what her intent was. She watched comprehension dawn, waited for his mouth to open in what was certain to be a shout of protest. Instantly, she crammed a pair of her dirty panties between his lips.

She hadn't anticipated his ability to buck and evade the shaver. Angered, she grabbed his balls, gave them a quick, hard squeeze. That stopped him cold. She kept them in her hand, a constant reminder of what she could do - but she also fondled them, toyed with them. His lost hard-on slowly returned as she finished stripping one leg of hair from ankle to groin and turned her attention to the other. She relinquished his balls, raked his shaft with her lengthened red nails. His bucking was very different by then - thrusts, not evasions.

"That's better," she purred sexily. "We can do this one of two ways. I can force you, or you can go willingly. You choose: pain or pleasure." To demonstrate the latter, she lowered her face toward his groin, teased the purpled head of his dick with her tongue. It jumped. She chuckled throatily and backed off.

"Now we shave this, too," she whispered. His eyes were wide with fear. She had to grab his balls again and inflict what must have been nauseating pain before he held still and let her shave away every trace of public hair, even from the balls themselves.

She rewarded him by kissing his glans, wrapping her scarlet lips around it and sliding a couple of inches in and out of her mouth. All the while, she held his bulging eyes with her own. Her pussy gave a little twitch.

"I'm so fucking hot," she breathed, after a final deep kiss to his cock. She raised herself to her knees on the bed, lifted the tiny dress up. "Look. I'm dripping wet, looking at your naked dick and legs. I could cum, if I just pinched my clit. Would you like it if I did that? Would you like to watch your whore cum for you?"

His nod was hesitant, but his eyes were eager. She positioned herself close to his head, held her furred slit open with one hand as she began stroking its length with the other. Her voice shook.

"Can you smell me, honey? Your cum mixed with mine? See how I'm creaming? Look how big my clit is! It looks like a tiny cock - just like yours. It feels so good when I rub it. Ahh. Fuck, baby. That's so good. Watch now. Watch! I'm going to cum for you! Your slut's going to cum all over her hand!"

So saying, she did, her fingers alternately dipping into her cunt, then diddling her clit until she could stand no more, until the walls of her vagina were wringing themselves, cramping painfully around her probing fingers. Gasping, she gathered her fluids and some of his stale cum, expelled from her hole, and smeared his face with it.

She sank back to the mattress. His eyes pled silently, moved to his swollen cock, waving helplessly in the air. She shook her head sadly as she reached for her cigarettes.

"Not yet, honey," she said, expelling smoke. "Soon, though, if you're good. You will be good, won't you?"

He nodded fervently. She murmured encouragement as she shaved his belly and chest and underarms, occasionally sucking on his cock instead of the cigarette. He willingly raised his hips so she could remove the hair from his ass, too. She gave his painfully swollen shaft a long, thorough fucking with her mouth as she fingered his tight little puckered hole. He pushed against her, obviously on the edge of a massive explosion. She jerked away, her own eyes slightly unfocused. She wanted him deep in her mouth, down her throat. She wanted to feel the hot sperm spurt in ropy gouts straight into her stomach - but forbade herself. She shuddered, hugged herself tightly.

Her voice was as hollow as her eyes, which were locked on his lipstick and saliva smeared, hairless dick. "The next part's going to hurt a little. Not much. And I'll make it worthwhile."

She steadied herself, rattled through the tools in the gym bag, came up with tweezers. He whined a protest, but endured having his eyebrows plucked into narrow, high arches, doing no more than flinching with each quick tug.

Already, he looked feminine to her prejudiced eyes. His narrow, sensitive face, his eyes huge with helpless fear, seemed to her to project a deep desire for what was happening to him. She scraped his cock and balls absently with her nails as she surveyed her victim. She'd finish his eyes first, she decided. Finish their conversion from male to female. Make him look at the world from the other side of the vanishing gender barrier.

She gave him the full treatment, filled with an eerie, thrilling concentration. She felt detached as she penciled heavy black borders around his upper and lower lashes. She tenderly blotted tears from his eyes, told him how thoughtful he'd been to provide them with waterproof makeup. She felt like he was a child she was encouraging during some crisis. She coached him as she heavily mascara-ed his lashes. She whispered endearments as she applied and blended the gaudy eyeshadow she knew he loved.

He promised with a quick nod not to cry any more before she smoothed foundation over his face, blushed his cheeks and powdered him. Putting everything else back in the bag, she held up the two shades of lipstick for him to look at.

"Which one, darling? Which do you want?"

His muffled answer was indecipherable. He seemed to trying to do more than choose between the two. There were two words. On his second, more deliberate attempt, she made them out.

"You first."

She chuckled, found the hand mirror, and studied herself. It was a shock to see how sucking his cock had smeared her lips. But, even more surprising than that was her sudden realization that she wished he'd told her earlier - that she always wanted her mouth to be succulent and wet and red. Her guts went hollow and cold. She had somehow become very attached to this personna she'd put on, as if it was a part of her power. In a totally unexpected way, it fulfilled her. And she experienced a wave of gratitude for her lover. If he hadn't tried to manipulate her, hadn't so openly whored around, she'd never have discovered this wonderous feeling.

Without even thinking about it, she repositioned herself and sank upon his raging erection, slipped him all the way to her core without hesitation or tease, then sat very still, aware of nothing but her new fullness. Holding up the mirror, she very carefully drew a fresh crimson mouth.

Her voice quiet and quaking, she focused on her lover. "There. Is that the way you want it? Umm. Me, too. Now it's your turn, baby. I'll take out the gag and make you look just as sexy as I do."

He didn't cry out or resist in any way, just lay there, lips parted in anticipation. His long lashes waved at her as she began. The vibrant color flowed over his mouth as if it belonged there. She moaned, wiggled her hips at the sight, and felt him begin to spew inside her, line her uterine walls with another measure of sperm, exactly at the moment his feminization became complete for them both.

It took her just another fifteen minutes to dress him and release him from his physical bonds. Wearing the same panties he'd bought for her, pantyhose, a cheap blonde costume wig she'd had to buy, a stuffed bra, and one of her sundresses, her lover looked damned convincing. The only thing missing was shoes and nail polish. The former they couldn't do anything about.

He tried to act shy and reluctant, but she could plainly see how he was relishing the feel of his new clothes, the real allure he displayed in the mirror. She tersely told him how he needed to move, hold himself - feel. He didn't even try to fake any resistance. He obeyed her every order. He was an avid learner. Angela laughed loudly. She wasn't the only one who'd learned a massive self-secret. This was what he'd really wanted all along. Not to be with a sexy woman - but to be one.

Angela led her new girlfriend into the living room, sat him on the sofa, and did his nails the same color as her own. They were short and stubby. His hands were rough, but he quickly vowed to take better care of them from now on. His voice was quiet, as if he was afraid of betraying any masculinity.

Angela squinted through her cigarette smoke. "Am I hearing you say that you want to do this again, honey?"

"Well . . ." The blonde boy-girl was sincerely terrified and ashamed.

Angela stroked his silky thigh, all the way up to the again burgeoning cock, and rubbed it sensuously. "I'll tell you what I'll do. As long as you keep yourself shaved smooth all over and wear sexy clothes and learn to do your own makeup, I'll keep myself looking like this. You'll have to wear your men's clothes to work, of course - but I'll be your slut full time. How's that sound, my pretty little bitch?"

Roger's hips were pushing against her hand. His slick red lips were parted. His heavily made up eyelids drooped with passion. "It's scary as hell, Angela. But maybe we could give it a try."

"Oh," she purred, leaning over to lick his mouth, kiss him lightly, exchange a touch of lipstick, "we're going to try lots of things." Her hand ran down over his tightly encased balls, flirted with his asshole, then rose again to pet his massively engorged cock. "Tomorrow, you're going to stay home from work. We're going to go spend an obscene amount of your money on clothes and makeup and other toys for both of us."

He was humping her hand wildly. His voice was shrill. "Like this? I have to go out dressed like this?"

"Oh, yes," she whispered, nibbling his ear, deciding to have his lobes pierced and get his nails lengthened while they were out. He could always cut them off Monday. His scream was high and long and his prick throbbed in her hand as he filled his pantyhose with his cum. She pumped him, staring hotly, until he was through.

She moved away, left him gasping, his darkened eyes closed. She watched her reflection light her cigarette - and watched him begin to squirm, uncomfortable with the sticky mess trapped inside his undergarments.

"Angel? Can I go clean -"

Her laugh was a sharp bark. "How many times do I have to tell you I'm not your fucking Angel?"

"Sorry," he apologized weakly.

She stood, towered over him, her cunt at the level of his face. "Come on, bitch. If you do a good job of shaving my pussy, maybe I'll let you wash yours and put on fresh hose."

Her new girlfriend trailed her obediently into the bathroom.