Spencer's Transformation

I took my hands off the bed's footboard, took a step back and bent further forwards. Every muscle between the small of my back and my toes protested. I smiled as Mistress raised the camera to her eyes. I had an idea that she was more interested in my sore, gaping anus than my face. After the camera clicked a couple of times, she snapped her fingers and I got onto all fours to kiss her feet gratefully. They were bare and I slowly and lovingly kissed the tip of each toe, telling myself that I wasn't just glad to be off my feet at last. Mistress slapped my face a couple of times as I started to straighten my back, then took a couple of photos of my teary face and ruined makeup.

Mistress' look of contempt was both withering and exciting as she picked up the key for the tiny padlocks on the ankle-straps of my pink courts and handed them to me. All she was wearing was the harness for the strap on. As I was wearing the heels and a corset, she was more naked than I was, which seemed a strange breach of etiquette. I kept that thought to myself.

"Shoes and corset off," Mistress said. "Enema. You're going to clean your face off with cold cream and redo your makeup as well. And brush your teeth. Kiss my cock."

I kissed it and heard the camera snap again. I could taste blood as well as shit.

"Now go and get ready. You're going to eat me out to three orgasms."

"Yes, Mistress," I said, curtsied, which hurt everything below my waist, and walked to the door, taking the short, mincing steps I'd been practicing all day and swaying my hips. I heard the camera again.

"You're getting the walk right, at least," Mistress said. "Head up and back straight, slut. Maybe a sore bottom is helping with that."

An enema did soothe my pained ass, though my anus was still gaping and I couldn't really hold it, so just put the tube up myself sitting on the toilet and felt the hot water drain straight back out of me as soon as I removed it. Removing the corset and shoes felt even better. My makeup wasn't as bad as I'd feared, even if my mascara was all over my cheeks. I cleaned my face off and reapplied it carefully, struggling not to rush and spoil it. The foundation was easy, but putting on the rest of my face was trickier. Mascara on my own eyelashes, pink eyeshadow, red lips, black lipliner pencil. I hoped it was a good enough job when I entered the bedroom carrying my shoes and corset.

Mistress was lying on the bed, naked. She studied my face and nodded.

"Passable," Mistress said. "Not brilliant, but acceptable. Put the corset and shoes on the floor in the corner, then crawl over here on all fours and start licking. I don't want to hear another word from you until morning now."

I crawled over to the bed and began to lick her clitoris. After her third orgasm she took another photo of me with my makeup smeared by her juices. "Lights," she said, "then you can sleep on the floor. We have a lot more work to do to get you vaguely presentable at the band meeting in your new role."

I walked to the light switch, switched off the lights and curled up on the floor, wincing as my buttocks moved.

***

I minced into Arabella's living room after Mistress, swaying my hips and feeling a delicious thrill of humiliation as my band mates looked up and took in my transformation. I felt both impossibly exposed and proud that my owner thought I was worth displaying even to a select gathering. I was careful to keep my back straight and my shoulders back, but my eyes lowered. The short, fat butt-plug I had filling my ass helped me to walk with the right gait.

For my unveiling, Mistress had dressed me in a sheer body stocking, black courts with four inch heels and padlocked ankle straps, a thick leather collar with a d ring on the front that supported a pet identity disc, and a pair of manacles on my wrists fastened together behind my back with a double ended slide clip. The body stocking had an open crotch, baring my useless imprisoned cock and smooth hairless balls. If the chastity device hadn't been in place, I was sure that the feel of the body stocking on my shaved skin would have had me erect. I had crosses of tape over my nipples. My hair was gathered into twin tails on either side of my head with hair clips shaped like butterflies, and I had a pair of huge silver hoop earrings in the piercings in my earlobes I usually left open. My face was made up heavily again, with foundation, red lips lined in dark brown, pink eyeshadow and long fake lashes. As well as lining my lips, I'd been ordered to add a beauty spot above the right side of my mouth, and there was blusher on my cheeks. Mistress waited until everybody was looking then snapped her fingers. I quickly fell to my knees and kissed the toes of the courts she was wearing.

Arabella raised an eyebrow. She was half Scottish and half Tejano, with a deep rich tan and a luxuriant mane of dark red hair both of which were natural though everybody always thought one or the other must be fake. "Dress up," she said, "or has Spencer finally manned up and admitted what he wants?" As we were meeting at Arabella's ranch house, she was dressed down, wearing just jeans and a t shirt. As a slave owner herself, she was probably hoping for the latter answer. Her own slave, Helga stood off to one side in a low cut rubber maid's dress with a very short skirt. They were in a very heavy duty hardcore nonconsensual slavery arrangement that Helga had entered freely and now could never leave. Her example was one of the reasons I'd been so wary of begging Mistress for what I craved. With her mouth closed, her empty gums weren't on display, but the slave crest tattooed on the right side of her scalp was clearly visible. She had enormous, obviously fake breasts, and a quiet, graceful dignity that I supposed I was going to have to learn to imitate.

Mistress grinned and sank into a chair. She was wearing a long sleeved sweater dress in black viscose and a pair of black courts with higher heels than my own under a jeans jacket. It was the final touch that gave me a sick thrill though: the gold chain anklet with the key to my chastity device threaded through it. Mistress had told me, in a voice dripping with contempt, that she hadn't put two mars and one Venus symbols on it as charms because that promised a three way and I was no longer a man. I might be allowed to suck her lovers' cocks to get them hard for her, but that was the limit of my involvement now. As a Mistress and slave, we would have an open relationship, my Goddess had explained. She would fuck whoever she wanted, and I would fuck whoever she wanted as well, but apart from oral service or the occasional pegging, we were never going to have sex again. My penis had grown painfully erect in its cage and was oozing pre-cum by the time she'd finished explaining that. Mistress had laughed while probing my urethra with a metal sound, then made me lick it clean.

"It should be permanent," Mistress said. I kneeled at her side. "This pathetic creature is on probation until the Cathexis tour. If it sticks it out without any tantrums or hissy fits this will be permanent, though. And it isn't Spencer any more. I need to find a permanent slave name for it, but for now I'm calling it insect. And it definitely hasn't manned up. Quite the opposite, in fact. It's admitted that it isn't a man, never was a man and never will be a man. I think coming to terms with that has been liberating for it."

"Indeed," Arabella said. I can tell that she was looking at Mistress' ankle chain. "A lot of slaves feel that way. Straight into the deep end, then?"

"Deepish," Mistress said. "It is going to go a Hell of a lot deeper than this, though. I want to talk to you about the nonconsensual thing some time, Bella. A band meeting isn't really the place, though."

"Not really," Arabella said. "I can lend you some books to read, though. And I'll email you a few notes later on. Tamara can give you some ideas on how to enforce control, she set up the paperwork on my own slave, not that I need any of it. You might need to resort to coercion as your insect obviously has no idea what it's getting itself into."

"Perhaps," Mistress said. "Thank you, Bella."

"My pleasure. It's always good to welcome somebody into the sisterhood, even if she does have an itch for her genetic inferiors." By which Arabella meant people with a Y chromosome.

"If Spencer..." Kara began then stopped herself and started again. "Sorry, if insect is now your slave, Dee, does that mean that he..."

"It," Mistress said. I could hear the smile in her voice. Kara was kind of a slut, and had had her eye on me for as long as we'd both been in the band together. If I'd strutted in with a black ring on on my right hand and Mistress in a chastity belt and very little else, she'd probably be rubbing her hands with glee. Kara had a rock chick mane of honey blonde hair that probably wasn't any more natural than my own white and pink do, a pale complexion and sharp features, slightly softened by a tightly controlled but soft mouth. Today she was dressed in black leggings, a purple and black bustier, and high heeled white ankle boots.

"Does that mean that it can now be taken to have no opinions about the band and its management worth discussing and will just back you up on everything without question?"

"I will be very displeased if that isn't the case yes," Mistress said. "And insect is smart enough to know how stupid upsetting me would be now that it's planning and hoping to become a full time slave. Unless we're going to rehearse, there isn't really any point bringing it to these things any more, is there?"

"But you wanted to show it off," Earl said. The fact that Earl was gay was probably an even greater source of frustration for Kara than my marriage had been. He had a shaved head and a neatly trimmed short dirty blonde beard, and was dressed in leather jeans, army boots and a Motor head t shirt.

I suppose, taken as a whole, none of us looked like members of a country band. La Illorna was pretty much Arabella's show. They'd started as a more orthodox country rock band but when Arabella joined them as a fiddle player after being fired from the psychobilly band she'd been in before, they'd become a lot less Skynnyrd and a lot stranger. Earl was the only member of the line up she'd joined left in the current band. Mistress and I had joined the last after the original rhythm section had split to join a biggish name's touring band at around the same time as the nu metal band we'd been in had fallen apart. Kara, who'd had been in a death-rock band with Arabella, had replaced the original lead guitarist and singer songwriter who'd thought something more acoustic was the way to go. Her taste for super-Strats and pointy heavy metal guitars rather than Telecasters had irked the keyboard player, who'd finally thrown a mantrum and flounced off when the rhythm section from a nu metal band was brought in. He'd wanted somebody who played a string bass rather than an electric, and Arabella had claimed, had spent the whole time they were both in the band complaining about that non-stop. As a gothic tinted country band, we worked fine without any keyboards anyway. Earl, who was of those infuriating people who can play almost anything, moved between banjo, lap steel, dulcimer and mandolin adding textures as needed. We had an album out that had been selling steadily for six months, and had got positive write ups from the music magazines and we were getting even better reviews online, even if Clear Channel wouldn't touch us with a bargepole. We were all the wrong side of thirty and had an idea that La Ilorna might be our last shot at breaking into the big time. As Mistress, her slave and Earl could make a decent living from session work, that was more of a concern for Kara and Arabella. Still, so long as the album was outselling the monstrously expensive mainstream debut of Jasmine and the Jackalopes, Arabella could live with her current status. Being thrown out of that band had rankled with her. The fact that she'd made more money playing the fiddle over some disintegrating tape loops on the soundtrack for an indie horror film that went big than she had in over a decade and a half as a professional musician was a bit of a sore point for her as well, even if doing that had paid for her ranch.

"There is that, yes," Mistress said. "any comments on its makeover?"

"It actually looks pretty good like that," Kara said. "It might even pass if you gave it a padded bra and a gaff."

"Yes, I thought so," Mistress said. It was, I thought, unbearably obvious what she was waiting for. The thought made me feel a little queasy and very frightened, as well as excited. Finally, Earl mentioned it first.

"So, as well as being cuckolded, is your insect interested in 'forced' bi?" Even with my eyes lowered, I knew that he was doing air quotes around the word forced.

"Of course it is. It has all of these repressed middle class fantasies about prostitution and sucking cock and being butt-fucked. Are you interested, Earl? I don't think sodomizing it will do much for either of you after the way it carried on when I popped its cherry, but if Arabella is willing to allow such a thing in her house, there's no reason that it can't give you a blow job."

"What's wrong with its dirt road?" Earl asked. I somehow managed to keep my face still as Mistress answered.

"I pegged it with a very big dildo last night. It couldn't take that, and that was what broke it completely. It's going to need some extensive anal training. It probably needs to do some practice before it can perform a decent blow job come to that."

"How much?" Earl asked. I bit my tongue.

"I can't decently charge for what's likely to be the worst, sloppiest cock-sucking you'll ever experience. Still you will be its first."

"I'm game," Earl said. "Bella?"

"Go for it," Arabella said. "Just let me get a camera, though."

Mistress laughed. "I'd not thought of that," she said. "And there was me recording its makeover yesterday."

"I'll send you a copy, Dee," Arabella said. Helga handed her a video-camera. "I'm sure Earl will want one as well."

"Could I have a copy as well, Bella?" Kara asked.

"Of course, Kara. This must be a bit frustrating and annoying for you. The two boys in the band, neither of whom has ever been available, are about to have oral sex in front of you."

Kara laughed. "Go on, Bella," she said. "Rub it in."

"This isn't a boy anymore," Mistress said. "Insect, ask Earl if you can fellate him."

I raised my face. "May I please fellate you, sir?" I asked. I was astonished that my voice wasn't shaking.

Earl spread his legs and unzipped his fly. "I don't really go for twinks and sissies," he said, "but you may. Come here."

I stood up, stepped around the coffee table, then knelt between his legs. Arabella had the camera raised to her eye and was smiling the coldest smile I'd ever seen. Being turned into a freak like Helga had worried me, but it had never occurred to me that Mistress turning into a monster like Arabella might be an issue as well. It was too late for regrets now. She was my Mistress and I was her slave, and what we'd become was something I had no say in anymore.

"Start sucking," Earl said. His prick was already stiff, and looked clean. I kissed it and then took it into my mouth. "Eyes up," Earl said. "When you suck a man's cock, you look him in the eyes."

I looked up to meet his eyes and began to suck my first cock.

***

The video on the laptop showed me sucking Earl's cock. I was batting my eyes and moaning as I did so. That hadn't needed any prompting, but if I was honest, it hadn't been very sincere. It wasn't until after he'd come in my mouth that it occurred to me that I might have been indulging in the sort of mean spirited caricaturing of femininity that drag queens were into. Hopefully not: the three women in the band had all seemed to enjoy the show just as much as Earl, even if there was only one of them I had to worry about impressing. For all I knew, Arabella's slave had watched me thinking I was a disgusting scumbag as well.

"Does it feel good to be a faggot, slave?" Mistress asked. I was kneeling in front of the coffee table with the laptop on top of it, watching. She'd set the video up to loop.

"Yes, Mistress," I said. I wasn't sure that I was, or it did, but if she said I was a faggot, then I was a faggot.

"You obviously enjoy sucking cock," she said. "You never showed that enthusiasm eating out the poor woman you conned into marrying you because you'd fooled her into thinking that you were a man, did you?"

I was going to regret however I answered that one, even if Mistress' delivery made it clear that there was a right and a wrong answer. "Yes, Mistress," I said. "I love sucking cock."

Mercifully, Mistress didn't push on the other button. "Why is that?" she said. "Why do you love sucking cock, slave?"

"Because I'm a faggot, Mistress," I said.

"I bet you'd have loved to have Earl up your ass as well. Maybe I should make you available to him whenever he wants. You'd like that, wouldn't you slave? It'd let you act out all the nasty disgusting queer cravings you had to suppress to pass yourself off as a man."

There wasn't a question there, so I didn't have to answer that. That was probably a good thing.

Mistress leaned forwards and purred into my ear. "Did you know that you look quite sexy like that? Made up, with your hair all girly and a cock in your mouth? You're much sexier as a sissy than you were pretending to be a straight guy."

"Thank you, Mistress," I said before the pause stretched out too long.

"Earl doesn't think you're all that good at it, though. You need to practice. he's suggested some guys who might help you learn to suck cock properly, but I think we need to train your mouth and your anus to take cock with dildos before you can even be trusted to try that again. Just look at all the trouble you had with that tiny little strap on last night."

That was a bit dismaying. I didn't think I'd done that badly for a first attempt. Earl had came fairly quickly, and I'd swallowed his load without gagging. Maybe that was the problem and a serious cocksucker takes it deeper and chokes and gags.

"So here's what we're going to do. You're going to be settling into a routine over the next three weeks. Most of it is going to be about making you properly servile, training you to wait on me hand and foot. I'm not lifting a finger around here any more, slave. You're going to cook, clean, everything. But as well as that, you're going to do oral and anal training. Every night when you've finished eating me out, you can go and practice on a dildo stuck to the wall. And every day, after you've made me breakfast before you dress, you can spend some time squatting down over a dildo and training your ass. You're going to put in an hour on each day. I'm not going to let you embarrass me with any other faggots the way you did with Earl. If you want to suck cock, you have to learn to be a really good cocksucker. If you want your ass fucked, you need to develop an inviting, hungry hole. I'm generous enough with my property to let you turn yourself into a much better faggot. I hope you're grateful for that."

"Thank you, Mistress," I said again. "Your slave is very grateful." She licked my ear and I winced as my imprisoned cock responded. I felt her hands cupping my balls between my legs.

"They really do go blue, don't they?" she said. "It's only been a few days, as well. Don't worry, though that's a good look for you, slave. Just like the sissy hair, makeup, cross-dressing and a cock in your mouth. Everybody liked you like this, even Earl. Especially Earl, and he doesn't even like sissies." She released my balls, which were aching painfully, stood up and stepped away from me.