Spencer's Transformation

"Now," she said, "what tags do you think we should put onto this clip to get it a few P2Ps on the filesharing sites? La Illorna as you and Earl are both in it. Faggot, cocksucker and sissy, obviously. I don't think saying forced bi would be honest, though, as you obviously love sucking his cock Any thoughts?"

An answer was obviously required.

"Slave, Mistress?" I said. "Fetish? Bimbo?"

"Forget 'Bimbo'," Mistress said. "You don't have the breasts for that. Or the lips. Are you saying that you want implants, slave? Are you a transsexual not a faggot? Do you want huge breast implants, fat cocksucking lips and a nip and a tuck?" Her hand cradled my balls again. "I suppose it's possible that you might be happier with these gone, and this," Mistress swatted my caged cock "is useless. I may never let it out again, anyway It's never going anywhere near a pussy ever again, so there's no reason to keep it, is there?"

I felt a little faint at the thought. Mistress squeezed my aching balls hard. "I asked a question. When I ask a question you answer. Always. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"So answer my question. We are never going to have penetrative sex that involves your genitals ever again. If I want cock, I will find a big hard stud with a big hard cock and have him fuck me sore. You'll enjoy watching that, and you might even get to suck him first to get him nice and hard for me. You might be allowed to lick his come out of me afterwards, and you're certainly going to be using your mouth on my pussy and feet and anywhere else I tell you to, but as an oral and anal slut, you don't need to have genitals, do you?"

"No, Mistress," I said.

"I want you to do some porno," Mistress said. She began to stroke and squeeze my balls, gently. It felt really good. "then there's your sordid prostitution fantasies as well. I think getting rid of these might be a problem with both of those, mightn't it?"

"Yes, Mistress," I said.

"So I think we can forget about castration or a penectomy for now. It might be fun to see if you still served me faithfully and lovingly with these gone. Arabella's slave has been infibulated did you know? She doesn't seem to miss her clitty any more than her hair or her teeth. But really, I think I'll let you keep these. For now, at least."

Mistress massaged my aching balls and I moaned. "Of course that means I can't describe you as a bimbo, doesn't it? And whatever else you might be, you're a professional musician. Do you think you'll be able to play the bass with inch long backscratchers?" She clocked my puzzled look and sighed. "False nails, slave. It might be fun to have you wear some for a photo or a porn film, but you can't play the bass in them and I don't think they'd do anything to improve your skills as a maid, either.

"Enough of this, though. It's getting late. Run me a milk bath. While it's running, you can make me a hot chocolate with marshmallows and brandy in it."

Mistress let me stand up and start for the door, then snapped her fingers as soon as my back was turned. I hurried back, got down on all fours and kissed her bare toes. I felt her hand on my head as I rose back to my knees and started to stand up. It stayed there as I stood, and to my surprise she pulled my head down to hers and French kissed me.

"Watching that footage of you sucking cock is so hot," she said. "I'm very pleased with how easily you're adjusting to all of this. You really are scared of me now, aren't you?"

"Yes, Mistress. How could I not be?"

"Only by being incredibly stupid. I want to watch you practice your cock sucking while I take my bath. There should be an unopened jelly dildo in the toy box, a black one molded to look like a big vein y circumcised cock. Bring that along to the bathroom with my drink once the bath is ready."

"Yes, Mistress," I said, and curtsied.

"And another thing. From now on you back out of the room instead of turning away from your Goddess. It's disrespectful."

"Yes, Mistress," I said. I curtseyed again and backed out of the room slowly, not turning until I was out of the door.

***

"This will be a nice test of your oral training," Mistress said as she buckled the gag's strap around my face. "The blunt end of this is a lot bigger than the silly little penis gag you used to suck on from time to time, isn't it?" She wasn't wrong. The double ended dildo gag had a four inch molded rubber penis in my mouth and one coming from its front that was eight or nine inches long. They were both about the same thickness, and probably the same molded length of rubber. She adjusted the buckle and took a step backwards to inspect her handiwork.

"Very nice," Mistress said. "Much more impressive than this..." she paused to give my imprisoned penis a short kick "...silly little thing. Does it feel nice to finally have a big cock worth bragging about at last? Yes, I know you can't speak with your mouth full, but you can nod your head, can't you, slave?"

I nodded and felt the penis hanging from my mouth waggle up and down. Mistress laughed. "Maybe I'll get a strap on you can wear over your pathetic deformity," she said. "Just think, I'll be able to ride you and enjoy it instead of having to humor you because you're too much of a pussy to go on top."

We were both naked, apart from the chastity device and the penis gag I was wearing. Since putting me in chastity Mistress had started either going naked or wearing fetish wear around the house most of the time. The aching from my blue balls was starting to rival the pain from my trapped penis looking at her. I'd had a constant, painful thwarted erection for most of a week now. I was on my knees and when she stepped back, I could see how excited she was. Her pussy was oozing and open.

"Head back on the sofa, slave," Mistress said. I leaned back. I'd been hoping that she had been planning to sit back herself and let me thrust into her, but even with a rubber cock strapped to my face that was too masculine a role for me now. It wasn't a comfortable position I was adopting. I could feel my shoulders tensing up as my neck stretched backwards.

Mistress stepped forwards and put her hand around the dildo, wanking it and giggling. She turned, squatted down and lowered herself onto it. My nose nestled between her buttocks as she took it all the way inside her. "Ohh," she said. "That feels good. Right on my g spot. This is going to be amazing. Don't even think about moving until I tell you I'm finished, slave." She began to bob up and down on it making a lot more noise than she ever had riding my penis. My breathing was soon noisier than hers was as I strained to fill my lungs when she rose as high as she was going before my nose was blocked by her ass.

I hoped that her screaming orgasm was at least partly exaggerated, but I could feel juices running down my face from her squirting. She put her whole weight on my face while she recovered, and I could feel my lungs burning by the time she lifted one foot and put it on my chastened penis.

"A big jelly dildo is much, much better than this pathetic excuse for a cock," Mistress said. "I can't believe how hard I came. Of course, the power I have over you helped as well as a much bigger cock than this. Not that you can even buy dildos this small. And it's only going to get smaller, as well. You know that right? Prolonged chastity means it'll get less flexible and lose its ability to swell up properly."

I didn't care about that. I was struggling to suck air in around the gag filling my mouth as my nose was blocked. If there'd been enough air in my lungs to try to shout through the gag I would have, but I couldn't. I just hoped that I wouldn't suffocate before she got off me.

To my astonishment, Mistress bent down and unlocked the chastity cage. The agony in my penis doubled as it straightened and unfolded, and then faded.

"Doesn't look any smaller yet," Mistress said, "but then it's only spent five days locked away so far. Nothing really, and I suppose it's plenty small enough already." I took a blissfully deep breath as she got off my face. "Stand."

I stood, gratefully. Now I could breathe again, I was aware of the crick in my back I'd been ignoring while my Goddess rode my face.

"Don't dare touch it," Mistress said. "Hands behind your head." I put my hands behind my head and waited as she went to the desk and came back with a metal ruler and a note pad.

"I should really have done this before locking it away," Mistress said, "but it didn't occur to me at the time that recording your last pathetic attempt to pass yourself off as a man with a cock was worth recording." She measured my erection with the ruler and made a note in the notebook. "I think the thing to do will be to measure it once a week, and note any changes and shrinkage. It might be nice to put a graph on the blog.

"For now though, you can go to the kitchen and fill a glass with ice so we can put it away again when I've got some photos and measurements. Maybe I should have done that before starting, but it looks much more photogenic with blue balls, doesn't it, slave?"

I nodded and the lubricious dildo hanging from my face waggled again.

***

I felt painfully conspicuous as I walked through the Outlet Mall alone and fully cross-dressed in public. I wondered how obvious it was that I was a sissy in a dress rather than a tall, ugly woman. The black shirt dress I was wearing had a knee length skirt, and my caged penis was shoved back between my legs and held in place with a strip of tape that was fastened to my taint. I had a black velvet choker around my throat with a Chinese coin dangling from its front, and wore a padded bra under my dress. My arms and legs were bare, and I wore a pair of black open toed courts with two inch heels. At least Mistress hadn't sent me out in nosebleed heels, but part of the point of the exercise was to get me used to walking in high heels. Mistress didn't think that mincing around the house was good enough practice for that. I concentrated on taking short, straight steps, keeping my arms down and swaying my ass a little. I was grateful for the small clutch bag she'd given me, as carrying that kept my hands busy. I wondered how long it would take for me to stop having to resist the urge to break into a stride.

The rest of the point was humiliation. I wasn't wearing anything blatantly kinky, or even that much makeup, but my white and pink hair was gathered in twin ponytails on the sides of my head, which didn't exactly make me low profile. I wondered if anybody I knew would recognize me, and wondered whether I'd be more embarrassed and humiliated if they didn't than if they did.

Mistress had provided me with a shopping list. The first shop on the list had been exquisitely embarrassing and humiliating, though I'd tried not to let it show. Electrum Connection was a budget jeweler's dedicated to showy, vulgar bling. A lot of low carat gold and cubic zirconia, and just the sort of place I'd never have dreamed of buying my Goddess anything from. She'd told me to treat myself, and also to buy her a charm for her ankle bracelet. The clerk hadn't said anything, but he'd noted the wedding band tattooed around my left ring finger's bottom joint (the name "Deanna" was mixed in with the elaborate Celtic k notwork) and probably the size of my hands as he checked the "HW" charm, three pairs of earrings, and a silver bangle through the checkpoint.

After that, a trip to the sex shop to buy a Kali's teeth bracelet and a rubber maid's dress was nothing. I'd been a little worried abut being barred from the women's boutiques, but either they didn't realized I was a sissy or they didn't care. I'd tucked the jewelry into my clutch bag, but came out of Victoria's Secret and Amazons with a carrier bag each.

It wasn't until I'd crossed the mall that I realized the last shop on Mistress' list was going to be even more embarrassing than Electrum Connection had. I was an old lady in my thirties, and Hot Topic was full of teenagers in platforms who were young enough to take Marilyn Manson seriously. I put my hand on the door, and pushed my way in, hoping that my worry didn't show on my face. Mercifully, it was a weekday morning and school was in, so the place wasn't exactly busy. The plump young lady with purple hair behind the counter hardly looked up from her copy of Gothic Beauty as I made my way to the rack of wet-look lycra Morticia dresses at the back of the store.

Of course, I reminded myself, when I got back home I had a far more humiliating evening waiting for me than some guy in a jeweler's realizing what a charm on an anklet signifies or some dumpy baby bat with a bad dye job sneering at me. I was still looking forwards to it with a jittery buzz that was half sick anticipation and half delight, though.

***

I kept my eyes on the camera as I bobbed up and down. The dildo I was squatting over and lowering myself onto had a sucker on its bottom end, and was the one Mistress had used to peg me with in the past while we were still husband and wife rather than Goddess and insect. The dildo was hard acrylic, not jelly, and I'd been able to use Vaseline to lubricate it, rather than KY, and the thicker greasy petroleum jelly made the penetration easier. I had an idea that my daily anal training was also geared to tighten and tone my buttocks and thighs. After a full week of my new regime, I was starting to enjoy this part of my new lifestyle, if only because I did my anal training barefoot, before dressing for the day. My anus was always a little sore by the end, but it was nothing next to the agony I'd been left in by Mistress' first anal hatefuck, and I was starting to enjoy it. I liked how full the rigid hard dildo made my anus feel, and the pressure on my prostate when my buttocks touched my heels felt wonderful. I put a saucer in front of me underneath my penis to collect any emissions, but I hadn't managed an analgasm yet, or even a prostate discharge yet. However, my trapped penis, with its near permanent painful erection was usually oozing, so there was usually something on the saucer for me to lick up when I was done.

This evening would mark a full week since I'd begged my Goddess to allow me to become her slave. The routine I'd settled into since then felt comfortable, reassuring and safe. The day had begun with my waking Mistress by licking her feet. That had led to a painful, thwarted boner, as always. When I'd roused her, I'd eaten her out, then fixed her a coffee before making her breakfast and bringing it to her in bed. After she'd eaten it, I was allowed my own breakfast, which I'd eaten out of a bowl on the kitchen floor. Muesli in skim milk, with a banana sliced into it. My diet as a slave, Mistress had explained, banned coffee and any sort of red meat. After eating, I was allowed half an hour to shower, shave, use Nair on my genitals around the cage, reapply my makeup, fix my hair and take another enema before starting with the day's anal training. I was doing this in the small box room next to the downstairs bathroom. Mistress had set up a webcam on a tripod to monitor me. I was keeping my eye on it because Mistress was watching it from her laptop. When the green light went out, and the red light came on, I'd know that she wanted me to stop, find her in the living room, and kneel at her feet while she told me how to dress and gave me my instructions for the day.

Anal training was first, though. I wasn't doing this, or my late night oral training with a jelly dildo stuck to the wall at waist height to a fixed schedule, but I had an idea that the sessions were getting steadily longer. Mistress was quite keen that her slave would be able to analgasm when the three week trial ended and I begged to become her full time slave permanently, and I was desperate not to disappoint her in this. The clock was ticking. It shouldn't come as a surprise then, that I was delighted when I felt my penis twitch inside its prison and spurt.

I'd been expecting an analgasm to be weaker than coming through stimulating my penis, but it was a lot more potent, and seemed to last longer. It came in waves, and it was all I could do to stay in a squat instead of falling over backwards. I realized that I was drooling from my mouth as well as my penis as I began to recover and saw Mistress standing in the doorway behind the camera. I closed my mouth as she looked at me and applauded, clapping very slowly and dismissively.

"Insect's first anal orgasm," Mistress said. "I'm so proud of you, slave. You've proven you're a pathetic sissy who would rather have it up the ass than have sex. Now get down on your hands and knees and lick the plate clean."

I eagerly did as I was told. Maybe this would stop me oozing pre-cum all the time. It looked a little watery and thin compared to what I produced beating off or having sex, but I still felt very smug as I lapped it up.

***

Mistress had handed me the camera so that I could film her bowel movement. The turd that slithered from between her pale buttocks into the metal bowl was oily, scaly looking and dark brown. She stood up, stepped away from the bowl and snapped her fingers. There was a ball-gag in my mouth, but I pressed my face to her feet and tried to look devoted as she took the camera from me. All she was wearing was her latex kimono, and her anklet. I'd noticed that she'd taken to wearing it whenever she appeared in any of the footage she was taking of her slave for the blog. Which meant, I supposed, that she was going to be available to any viewers she liked the look of.

I'd realized that this was going to happen as soon as Mistress had told me I wasn't getting any breakfast today last night. I'd been gagged through lunchtime as well. By now my stomach had been rumbling for hours and my throat was as dry as a bone. The main reason to starve a slave was to make sure that it was hungry enough to eat something unpleasant.

We had experimented, briefly, with scat. It was one of those fetishes that looked incredibly submissive and felt thoroughly taboo, but it was also messy and a pain to clean up after. Back when we were a couple who played occasionally rather than a slave and its owner, Mistress had taken an enema, shat over my crotch and used her semi liquid excrement as a lubricant to masturbate me. The hot, gooey mass had felt good enough to ignore the smell, and I'd come quickly both times. The second time I'd screwed up the nerve to ask permission to lick her hands. Mistress had made a moue of amused distaste and held them to my face. The first couple of licks had tasted almost pleasant, with a yeasty, almost spicy favor and a texture like hot ice-cream, but the flavor grew stronger the more shit I sucked into my mouth and quickly became overpowering. I didn't vomit, but Mistress was quite annoyed that I felt ill enough we had to call a halt to any further limit pushing immediately afterwards.

This time, the bathroom wouldn't need cleaning. We were out in the garden. Mistress gestured me to my feet.

"Take the gag off and make your face up," she said. "The key's on my dresser. Put your hair up in a beehive. This will keep, so do it right. Put lipstick on your nipples as well."

When I came back out, Mistress seemed to find my appearance acceptable. She had me kneel with the bowl of shit between us and took a few photos that showed my face, chastity device and the contents of the bowl.

"Remember that we only have five minutes of footage," she said. "You need to have the whole lot eaten by the time the camera's memory is gone, or we'll have to start over. I'll be quite displeased if that happens, to put it mildly. I don't mind if you vomit after you finish eating my shit, but you are to finish eating it. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Mistress," I said.

"State your real name, what you are and what you're doing, then start," she said.