The Twighlight Zone Ch. 04

But I knew that they would find us, find me, and somehow make me fulfill my forced obligation. I nearly feinted right there.

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Tuesday, July 2nd

This evening I picked out a nice 9mm automatic. I went through half a box of ammunition testing it out in the store's gun range. By the time I was finished, I was a fair shot at anything within ten feet. That would be more than enough.

Wednesday, July 3rd

According to what I had been told, this would be my last night of my sentence. I had been under that impression before, though. I looked at black leather bag staring out at me from the closet. One more night and I would be free of the sadistic little artist and her friends. This morning I had found their delivery hanging from my rearview mirror. I hid it in the trunk, and got it inside when I got home from work.

My hands shook as I pulled the large bag out, unzippered it and started taking out the contents.

First was the controller she had shown me what seemed to be an eternity ago. A marked numeric keypad, a red enter button, and eight other buttons that I had started to learn the functions of but was afraid (with good cause) to fool around with. Next came a white mask without cutouts for eyes, nose or mouth. A pair of rubber gloves. A shoulder length bleached blonde wig, in soft curls. A small box containing false fingernails, a tube of the sealant, silver hoop earrings at least an inch in diameter, a small black butt plug, a thick black leather collar with spikes on it, a pair of silicon type falsies, and what looked to be a condom. I knew better.

It was obvious that tonight I was going to be dressed as a woman of some sort.

At the bottom of the bag I found two clothes boxes. In the first was a pair of crotchless black leather panties, a pair of elbow length black leather gloves, and a lightly boned black leather and satin corset with half-cup bra support. In the other box was a black leather mini-dress that would probably just cover my rear end, stockings, and calf-high black leather boots with what looked to be at least five-inch heels. The panties, corset, gloves, and boots all had a semi-shiny material on the inside that I could only presume to be VRSKIN; the catalog from the week before had confirmed my guess at a name for the stuff.

Yup, I was going to be a woman for at least part of the night. I am not a body builder, but I didn't think there was any way I could pass for a woman. Of course, two months ago I would never have thought that I would masturbate in front of an aerobics class, or screamed to have a devil woman fuck me in the ass, or even dressed up and treated like a horse, so I moved the 'turned into a woman' from the 'definitely not' column to the 'probably' column in my head.

The directions for dressing were slightly different. I was too enter my code after putting on each item, and to do so in a specific order.

As I looked at the items I resigned myself to my fate. One last night of their kinky weirdness and I would have my life back. I hoped. I squeezed some of the lubricant into my hand and began rubbing it over my entire body. Tara's instructions from that first night echoed through my head as I massaged the goop into my hair. I was certainly used to shaving the rest of my body now. When I finished, I put on the pair of rubber gloves and clicked my code into the controller. 30 seconds and counting.

I stimulated myself into a hearty erection, not difficult when you consider it was nearly erect just from seeing the clothing, then began to roll the condom object on, all while wondering what they were going to do to my cock this time. The controller began to hum, then let out a BEEP. Immediately I felt a tingling sensation as my cock expanded and elongated to its new size. An inch and a half thick and eight inches long. I thought that I better not get a full erection with that dress on. I hit the enter button again. The panties slid up my legs and over my cock and balls, which I pulled through the hole in front. There was also a hole over my asshole, which would be filled in a minute. For a moment I wondered, 'why have panties at all if you are going to put holes in the parts that should really be covering things up?'

I held the falsies up to my chest, making sure to center my nipples in the little indentations just as Tara had done to me that first night, then waited for the controller to catch up. After a few seconds I heard the hum and BEEP, and the breasts now became one with my flesh while they expanded to a nice b-cup size. I marveled at the sensations my breasts were giving me and almost forgot about the controller. I picked up the corset and wrapped it around me. Instead of the normal draw string arrangement, this one was split up the front. On one side were a multitude of little arrow shapes, and on the other a series of matching holes. I got the idea and started to snap the arrows into place, which left no trace of a seam on the corset anywhere. Hanging from the back of the corset was a long strap. I lubricated the small butt plug, ran the strap through the slot on the bottom, and pushed it through the hole in the panties and into my anus. From that point the strap split into two parts which came up on either side of my cock and locked in place at the bottom of the corset using the same arrow and hole connectors.

The stockings were next, and also connected to the corset at thirty-six different points around my leg, effectively making the corset one with the stockings. The boots were a little awkward to put on, and again were closed with the arrow connectors.

The earrings snapped into the holes created recently by the dominatrix.

I was really apprehensive about the mask. I didn't see any breathing holes and couldn't figure out what it was for, but mine was not to wonder why. I covered my face in the goop and held my breathe as I pressed the mask to my face. I heard the remote hum and beep, but the mask came off in my hands, and I was a little confused. I put the mask down on the nightstand, and proceeded to the next step. Maybe I was missing something.

I positioned the wig on my head (the little 'front' written on the inside helped me a lot) and hit the enter button again. In a moment I had long curly blonde hair. Per the instructions, the rubber gloves now came off. The bright red nails were as easy to put on, but I couldn't figure out why I needed nails when I would be putting gloves on again, until I actually slid on the leather gloves. When my fingers reached the ends of the tips the nails passed through, making it look as if the gloves themselves had nails. With the prosthetics taken care of, I began to calm down a little. The collar was the last bit before the dress. It was snug but not uncomfortable, and again connected with the arrows to make a seamless circle. I sat down on the edge of the bed when I heard the controller begin to hum again. Frantically I looked through the bag to see if I had missed anything.

It was empty.

BEEP.

The corset contracted a little, forcing the breath from my lungs, and the gloves, boots, and collar all became completely snug. A strange kneading and twisting sensation started on my nipples. Not my idea of comfort, but I could live with it. I grabbed the dress and pulled it up over my legs and rear, and quickly pushed my arms through and zipped it up.

How women ever learn to do that without a hangar to help them, I will never know.

The dress was shorter than I thought, barely to a spot above my knees, and amplified the small amount of cleavage that I had recently acquired. I picked up the controller (per instructions) and my car keys then headed out. As I passed the bathroom, curiosity got the better of me, and I stepped in for a peek.

Before me stood a six-foot-eight (in heels) black leather bitch, bright red lipstick to match her nails and a slightly over-done make-up job. I knew now what the mask was for. If I looked real hard, I could discern traces of my own male self underneath, but Tara had effectively accomplished her goal. Right down to the choker, which did a good job of hiding my Adam's apple. I moved the 'turned into a woman' from 'probable' to 'definite'. One last night of these indignities, I kept telling myself. One last night of humiliation. I headed down stairs, grabbed one of my wife's old purses (that I felt matched my new outfit) from the pile in the coat closet, and stuffed the controller, my wallet, and my gun inside, and got into my car.

I was two blocks from my own driveway and I started to panic when I first heard the hum. BEEP. Several things happened at once: the corset contracted again and the boning stiffened, forcing me into a severe upright position as it pushed the breath from my lungs, while the strap holding the now larger butt plug tightened, driving it further into my ass. My breasts enlarged to a c-cup, and the half-inch nipples, which now alternated between getting a gentle caressed and a hard pinch, strained to break through the dress. Even my cock thickened as it got longer. Luckily, there was no cross traffic as the surprise of the action caused me to run through a stop.

When the next BEEP came I was almost to my destination. My chest went past a d-cup, and the corset had pulled even tighter, driving the now dildo sized plug even deeper. My normal thirty-two inch waist line must have been down to at least twenty-seven, and the tip of the massive cock dangled out of the bottom of the dress.

'Traitor' sent some sensations up to my brain, and I have to admit I wondered what it would be like to hold it in my hands. He ached to be caressed. The toes of my boots had bent downwards so that I might walk only if it was tippy-toed on the six inch heels.

Ballet boots, they were called. Yes, I know what they are. I did look through the Twighlight Zone catalog once or twice. Or three times. So now I knew a lot more about what they sold in that store. It wasn't like I was in the bathroom masturbating or anything. Research purposes only, I assure you.

I grabbed the purse and my car keys and rushed as well as I could to the house when I realized that the boots had gone solid. I was no longer able to bend my knees, and if I thought walking was hard before, it was now nearly impossible. Being extra top heavy and trying to walk in those boots wasn't easy, but I knew I couldn't have taken the boots off now even if I had the time or the will. The door to the basement opened before me and I stumbled into the darkness.

"Stand where you are, Alan. I wasn't finished with you last time, and I had to pay for a second night. You owe me." When the voice came out of the darkness, I knew I was in deeper trouble than I had suspected. It was heavy and electronic and came from all around me, probably from hidden speakers: a woman's voice mutated through high-tech means. I was almost positive it was Mistress Jackie, the woman from my last excursion. I added that 'Mistress' part on my own, because there was something about her that far surpassed the nature of the dominatrix I had dealt with.

I reached out blindly, hoping to touch something that might keep me from falling, but met with nothing.

A blue light started to fill the chamber, and I saw around me the makings of a medieval torture chamber warped into somebody's living quarters. The walls were covered in floor to ceiling mirrors. On the wall to my left was a huge wardrobe, both doors shut. The wall to my right had a large x-frame rack, currently empty. But the oddest thing was directly across from me; a wrought iron-framed king size bed on which sat the evening's mistress.

She was dressed similarly to me in some ways; high-heeled boots, stockings, corset, and gloves, but hers were all done in a matching zebra stripe skin pattern. I had flashbacks: I remembered her from the first of my seven (now eight) nights under Tara's control. She had grabbed my erect cock and given it a nasty twist as she walked by. I thought that she was also the lady from the week before; the dress she had worn then had a zebra skin pattern to it. I wasn't too dense that I couldn't put it all together. Well, that and the fact that she had just told me so.

Even in comparison to all I had been through, this knowledge of her payment for a second night with me sent a shiver of real fear down my spine as I took in the rest of her costume. Her head was encased in full hood, also in zebra stripes, which covered her mouth and eyes with a metallic screen that gave her a very faceless alien look, and her long blonde hair streamed out of a topknot hole in the back. What really blew my mind was her body; if it were real (which I doubted) she had d-cup breasts that defied gravity and a waist and hips that I had only dreamed about.

Well, dreamed about until I had been given a matching figure.

Whoever had done the research on my libido had hit the bulls-eye on this one, and my enhanced cock did it's best to lift the front of my dress as it sprang to a rock hardness. For some stupid reason, I wondered if she were still upset about last week's disruption at the fashion show.

The blue light gradually got stronger as she got up off the bed. "So, the Art Critic likes wearing leather and has a horse dick," the voice said from all around me. I was pretty sure that it was the person in front of me talking, because the jaw movements matched the sounds around me. But the new metallic neutrality was already getting on my nerves. "Which is good, because I like a man who is hung like a horse. Or should I say a woman who is hung the way a man should be. Maybe I shouldn't remind you of your little escapade as a horse, though, and get on with business." My thoughts snapped back to my stint as a ponyboy, and then my 'Night in Hell' - neither seemed to compare to what was happening to me now. "You've had some fun these past weeks, and this will be your last night in this program, so I'll have to make worth the price."

I broke the unspoken rule, and blurted out, "worth the pr...?", only the words came out of my mouth were in somebody else's voice. It was higher and yet huskier. Definitely not mine. More like a woman's.

"That would be the collar. Nice effect, eh? If you are going to dress and act like a woman, you should sound like one, too." She lifted a remote that looked remarkably like the one in my possession. She idly tapped a finger on her face, where lips would be if she had them. "Let's see. Eleven inches of cock, check. Forty double-D tits, check. Silkskin dildo buttplug, six inches, check. Beautiful long blonde hair and a pair of pouty lips that look like they want nothing more than to give oral satisfaction. All wrapped up in a black leather package. Check"

Through all of this, it had never dawned on me why these people did the things they did to me. But the description of me that she had just rifled off, with the exception of the whole 'cock' part, fit to a 'T' half the downloaded porn I had on my computer. I moved my purse in front of me. It was almost do-or-die time.

"Alan, I always wanted to experiment with a she-male lover, and now I have one made to my specifications. If you're any good, I might I'll keep you for myself. Would you like that?" Her voice almost purred through the speakers. Another shiver of fear ran down my spine.

"Put down your things, and come over here."

I slipped my hand inside the purse, and drew out my automatic. I have never been a violent man, and I shook a little as I pointed the weapon at the woman in front of my. I wished I could see her face so that I could gauge her reaction. "No. No more of this."

"Are you really going to shoot me, Alan? I don' think you are the type. Besides, you need to bend your fingers to shoot." A single button press on the remote, and my gloves turned to rock. She deftly removed the pistol from my grasp, and backed away again. My hands were released.

"As I said before, move to the center of the room."

I did as she said, and moved to the center of the room. She pressed a few buttons on her remote, and the floor in front of me opened up. A black leather-covered tumbling horse, seven feet long, rose out of the floor and locked in place just below waist height. On top were two little chains with clips on the end, and from either end were straps with web type restraints attached. "Put the clips on."

I reached down and picked up one of the clips. The chain was not connected to the other clip, but instead went into a hole in the horse. I pulled down the front of my dress and attached the clip to my new nipple, and pain shot through my body. I then attached the other one for the same effect.

"Now the manacles."

Once again, I lost the battle.

I wrapped the restraints on and fixed them in place, and she pressed another button. Immediately the straps retracted into the ends of the horse, pulling my arms apart and forcing me to my to bend over painfully. The chains retracted into the horse, forcing my chest even further into the horse. In a few seconds I went from standing free to kissing the leather in front of me.

Jackie walked around behind me, and the click of her heels echoed through the chamber. "Have you enjoyed your little escapades, Alan? Do you like the clothes, the women, your big dick? Have you enjoyed the kinky adventures every week, while your wife lives in ignorance? Maybe I should train her, too, and then the two of you could be a matched set. Would you like to watch while I fucked her into submission, or would you prefer her see her husband subjected to sexual torment as a she-male whore?"

I could feel the anger rise in me again, this time even stronger. I should have just shot her when I had the chance. There was a momentary pause, but I wasn't stupid enough to reply.

"Of course, If you were mine, you wouldn't have to go to work. We would fuck and suck all day long. You would be my little sex slave to dress and torment as I pleased. I would punish you when you were bad, pleasure you when you were good. Maybe you like being a bad boy. Well Mr. O'Neill, bad boys get spanked. Would you like to be spanked?" She pulled the dress up to my hips, exposing my dildo filled ass, and began to hit my ass cheeks with her open hand. The strokes were hard and strong, and it took all my will not to jerk forward or cry out when she hit me.

As she spanked, she again asked me, " Have you liked your little escapades?"

I knew the game, and how to answer. "Yes, Mistress Jackie."

She looked at me for a moment. "Alan, What is your wife's name? Jenny?"

"Uh, Jenna, Mistress Jackie."

There was an evil chuckle that echoed throughout the room. "Then I want you to refer to me as 'Mistress Jenna' from now on. Perhaps if you thought a little more about your wife, you wouldn't be where you are now."

That little statement made my bad situation ten times worse. I don't know which was greater, my guilt or my anger.

"Are you a bad boy?"

"Yes, Mistress Jac..Mistress Jenna." The words were like dust coming out of my mouth.

"Wrong answer, Alan. It's obvious you are not a boy, isn't it? Boys don't have dicks like you have, do they?"

"No, Mistress Jenna." The name was not getting easier to say.

"And you aren't really 'bad', are you? I would call you a whore, but you don't get paid for sex. You have become more of a slut. Do you agree that you are a slut, Alan?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"And the way you talk, with the 'yes, Mistress' and the 'no, Mistress' gives me the impression that you like it when women control you. You've learned that, deep down, you really are a submissive. That makes you pussy whipped, doesn't it?" I hadn't even realized that I had started calling her mistress until she pointed it out.

It just got deeper and deeper, and I just kept going along with it. I didn't know if this was my hell or my heaven.