The Teamviewer Mature Files

Alright, same plan, right?

He comes and I...offer to...pay him some of my cut...of selling my business percentage, for a trip to the bus station, where I could ride to some small town out west and get some kind of job as an illegal immigrant on an expired Visa.

Maybe a waitress job, given there was no way in hell I'd ever again be able to look like a man. Nothing about me said I was a man, anymore, other than no pussy, and no womb and maybe something in my genes, but hell if I knew what. My hips felt wider, and my skin softer and even the angle of my shoulder blades seemed soft. My face was 99.9% female. I had bigger natural tits than most women. I had to pee sitting down. I had less hair on my legs than virtually every woman, the only hair still capable of growing was on my head, eyebrows and that silly patch over my clit.

And it as a clit, to be sure. Totally. I was never going to fuck anything ever again. Gay or straight didn't even matter, in that department. My giving was done. Getting, however, seemed certain, given I looked like Dolly Parton with a tan.

What was it going to be like when the testosterone in my blood wore completely out? Give that a week or two and the only hormones in my body would be female. Add that to the gay genetic alterations they'd targeted on me and I'd not have a clue regarding what kind of orientation to even call myself. Was I gay, lesbian, what the fuck, I had no idea. Talk about gender confusion; I couldn't even put a label on it already. A week from now, shit!

They'd sexecuted me. I wasn't any sex. I wasn't a part of the gene pool, either. At all. Not just regarding the offspring I'd never have, but me. I wasn't a real human being. I had no idea who or what I was. I wasn't even me, if I was human. 'I' was some black man from Africa, with those credentials the dead 'me' had left in some file cabinet stripped and taken to nowhereville.

No, I was a thing. Undefinable. Inaccessible from my own consciousness. At the same time, my associated body, the thing underneath my brain, was smoking hot. I'd want to fuck me, picking my ass over everyone else in the dance hall, more than likely. What I felt about it was as meaningful as a rubber fuck doll, though, because I had been made into a eunuch.

Before this.

After this, they'd just made me into this totally non-reciprocal fuck thing that was better off if it just drooled and looked at the wall while being used.

I went through five days of lying there, taking the drugs, healing. They took out the staples, dressed me in a plain, grey dress with white mid-calf socks and plain Jane flats. My hair was put into a pony tail. Like a drone, I let them clip a pink leash to the metal collar permanently around my neck, and lead me down to a lobby I'd never seen before.

REORIENTATION was marked over a whole row of doors. I was led into room 21 and made to sit on a stool.

"Take off the panties and hang them on this hook."

I'd been in a stupor, finally looking at the black male orderly's face. He was another young man, maybe a college student, doing his part-time job.

I slipped my pantied down my smooth legs and gingerly hooked them onto the clothing hook on the wall. They hung there by the door where I'd come in.

The orderly departed.

The room has a small bed, a square kitchen table and a chair in the corner. A mirror on the wall had been lined with those cheap Christmas lights, merrily tinkling away. A bare bulb dangled from the ceiling. Obviously they'd made the place look a lot like a dingy motel room, only more bare. It might have taken some effort to do that. I'd not thought that even possible to make a trashy motel room look worse.

A man in a hoodie came in the same door I'd just came in, making me feel like some thug had followed me in my motel room. I felt cheap and violated and vulnerable instantly.

"Hey, bitch! You're my ass, now!" the man said. He was tall and about thirty, dressed in jeans and black sneakers. The skin was middling for a black man, but not handsome. Without fanfare, he unzipped his jeans. "Fucking get your face down here, white bitch. I'm gonna teach you what your mouth's good for!"

I'd not done that before. No, that one man had stuffed my mouth full of his balls, but I'd managed to avoid it before. Maybe they didn't even know I'd lucked out and avoided it, but here was a man, a rapist was more like it, and he'd barged into my room and dropped his zipper.

He fished his cock out then manipulated his underwear so his balls hung out as well. The balls were big and the cock fat, wrinkled, not yet hard. The word, JUNK, came to mind, it was so ugly.

"Get at it, cunt. I ain't got all day!"

I backed until my legs hit the bed.

He reached out and yanked my hair, pulling me forward and awkwardly pushing me to my knees and stuffing my face into his crotch. I'd fallen awkwardly, off balance, held from crashing to the ground by his strong hand gripping a fist full of my hair.

"If you bite me, I'm gonna cut your nose off, whore!"

He didn't show a knife, but he had me terrified, nonetheless. What power did I have? Nobody here was on my side, and of course this room had been their setup. The people who held my Visa and who'd turned me into a woman had sent him in.

I had a hard time keeping my balance, walking on my knees as he shifted around, toying with me. His cock was on my cheek, balls on my chin, pubic hair in my mouth and up my nostrils.

He let go a second to push the back of my head flat to his crotch, then let go of that a second to manipulate his penis to my lips. He smacked the back of my head. "Open up, cunt. What the fuck's wrong with you!" He smacked my ear, making it ring.

I opened my mouth, and his cock filled my pie hole in a flash. Damn! I had my mouth full of ugly, smelly, wrinkled penis!

"Such. Jesus, I thought you cunts were trained."

I started to suck. It was, in fact, almost instinctual, given I'd a had hundreds of hours on dildos and even self-fucking myself with that tongue deal.

He grew and grew. Dammit, the dick was going to be a monster before it was done.

"Tighter. Use your tongue. Stop with the teeth."

And then it started in earnest, now that his prick had swelled, likely two inches in diameter and eight inches long. Shit, I was a goddamned cock sucker!

He grabbed my hair with both fists and pulled me in until the cock was several inches down my throat.

I glared up with wide eyes of terror.

He smiled at that and seemed to fill with ecstatic euphoria. "Shit. That's right, bitch. I'm gonna choke the shit out of your cunt face!" He kept it in, only wiggling it in and out an inch or so.

I became desperate to breathe. My head spun, and not just from him yanking it in and out. He moved around the room, some, dragging me as my knees tried to keep up, almost always off balance.

Thank god his penis finally pulled out. It dangled in front of my face while I struggled to take in a breath.

"Thank me for fucking your face, cunt!"

I tried, but the coughing made it hard to get the words out. "Than—ank—you—mast—master!"

"Get on it, bitch!" He pulled me back onto his cock, and this time bent in so I fell onto my butt. With bent knees, he fucked my face hard and men, filling my throat, over and over again, between rounds of just holding it in and banging me tight with his pubic hair mushed into my nose.

He pulled out.

I felt disoriented, trying to catch some air.

I was being yanked all over the room like a rag doll, him taking my face in every position possible. I stopped trying to move on my own, the way he kept repositioning me as he pleased, yanking me here and there, causing me to resign myself to the reality that he didn't want me on balance. He was getting some kind of joy out of knowing I didn't even have control over my limbs.

He yanked my arm, forcing me to my feet, then tossed me over backwards onto the table. The brutal man kept a hold on my arm, and made sure I stayed on my back, until he leveled me out and situated my head off the far edge.

"Now I can get it in there, nice and deep!"

Fuck, that penis came for my head again, this time with it dangling upside-down off the far end of the table. He put it in, and I knew then that my skull was nothing more than a fuck hole. His cock drove halfway to my stomach. Every minute or so, he pulled out and just lulled the meat around on my tongue, so I could gasp a breath, then right back in. I realized I was nothing. Balls banged my nose, eyes and forehead. The back of my head banged into the side of the table.

He started to cum with a burst so far down my throat I didn't even have to swallow. In the same motion, he pulled clear out, making an audible plop, then shot the next burst straight up my nostrils. He held it there, and screamed, "Snort it, bitch, or I'll beat you blue!"

I snorted his cum, over and over again, sniffling it in and tasting it in the back of my throat.

He zipped up then slapped me until I fell off the table and onto the floor.

"Kiss my shoe, white bitch!"

I kissed his shoe.

"Get your face up here!"

I scrambled to my knees.

He grabbed my hair and cleaned his dick off in it, then pushed me back until I fell into the side of the bed.

"Look how fucked up you are!" He zipped and left out the same door.

I crashed to the floor, crying, and trying to straighten my hair, best I could. I'd likely smell his cock in my nose for weeks.

A second man, older, black again, balding with white hair over his ears, stepped in behind the man who'd left. He pulled in some kind of cart with what looked like a curling iron on it. He looked down at me on the floor and said, "Rough, huh? Well, sorry about this, but you're out processing, and I have to give the final clerical work before you can go."

I jumped up off the floor and sat on the bed, all eyes. My whole body was still shaking from the experience of having my face so violently violated, but I licked my lips and tried to pull it together. This was it. I was being released.

"Let me see the arm band."

I held out my arm, where the facility had banded me with my name and Visa ID number. He read it off and punched the same into a hand-held unit attached to the cart.

Was that it? He had my number. Now I could—

"Alright dear, hold out your arm and clamp it down on the handle of my cart."

I did that.

"Rigid. Out tight. Look that way." He pointed.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched him pick up the thing that looked like a curling iron, only it was flatter on the side. He held it up to my upper arm, and grabbed my arm tight, making sure I didn't flich, before pulling the trigger.

Searing pain hit me hard, burning, sizzling. I smelled flesh burning.

By the time I felt and smelled all that, he'd taken the thing away and was looking at my smoking flesh. "Good. That and the chip makes sure you are easy to identify."

He got up and put the items back on his cart.

My arm had been branded. I squinted, seeing my Visa number and name, Nancita Hernandez. Under that cooled an 800 number, and the name, Linda Co.. All around them all, my flesh had been insulted, and glowed pinkish under my middling brown.

Shit! They branded me, like some Jew destined for Hitler's ovens.

The man wheeled his cart to the door, but then he paused. "Hey, you know, you're the hottest one I've had all day." He halted, but then shrugged. "You don't mind, do you?" The man unbuckled his pants and pulled down his fly. "I got an itch."

I shuddered and sat back a little farther on the bed.

"Hey, I ain't taking your mouth. I can see it's likely to bruise from your trainer. I'm a nice man, so it's alright. Look, just come up here." He grabbed my arm, and helped me stagger the step to the table. There he leaned me over it, facing it and with my feet on the ground, this time. "There you go. Easy as be."

He lifted my skirt, spit on his hand and smacked the wet hand up to my sissy cunt. Coming up close behind and kicking my legs wider apart, her positioned his dick and slipped the head into my virgin ass.

"Now relax. I don't mean to make it hurt."

Fuck!

The cock entered, little by little, then rocked back and forth, and by the tenth thrust, started to bang me eight inches per thrust.

And there I was, a cocksucker and cunt, one, two, ending my day. Of course, I might have also fucked, but about twenty thrusts into my ass fucking, I realized there'd never be an issue of needing to reciprocate. I didn't have a dick. Even the massaging of my prostate wouldn't cause me to cum, or at least not normally, and even though the stimulation might have caused my dick to harden involuntarily, that also wasn't in the cards.

I reached down and touched my dick head, noticing that it didn't have any length to it at all. I even had to hunt for it in amongst the skin, most of it still numb from the nerves cut in surgery.

Teamviewer Femdom File

By jo199

Chapter Nineteen.

A lady in a red dress came in the other door. "For god's sake, bitch, put on your panties."

I felt numb while putting on my panties. I brushed the tears off my cheeks.

She shook her head, as if saying I was only engaging in useless theatrics, and then led me out. Crazy as hell, I was near the front of the hospital. These back doors emptied right out into what looked like the entrance to a hospital, obviously clear on the other side of the huge complex I'd been stuck in for days. There was a turn-around, where people were picking up sissies.

Here, it was sterile, clean, newish, professional. We were just parked here to wait, like nothing whatsoever had just happened to us.

There I sat trembling on a plain bench with a rotating fifteen or so other gurls, waiting to be picked up by one black person or the other. Every one of us was dressed the same, plain grey dress, white socks and standard-issued Janes.

Sometimes a black man would pick up several, and sometimes I saw the same mistress more than once, but mostly the gurls were picked up by someone different. Maybe all the black families in town had themselves a slave gurl. I'd decided to stop trying to calculate.

I just had one thought. Get my cut, pay half of it to Marcus and get that bus ticket to as far as it went until it ran out of gas.

That's when I saw him walking through the door. Late, like six or so in the afternoon. He missed me first, but then turned around and his eyebrow went up. "Ah, there you are. Sissybitch. No, wait. Tip of my tongue. Henrietta."

"Nancita Hernandez," I corrected him. "Sir." I ignored the pain in my crotch to stand and give the required curtsy.

"Nancita. Shit, I'll never get that right." He took my leash, and didn't pull on it any as he led me out to his car. I realized that it had once been my car, but I really did not want to even know. Fuck the car. The last thing I needed was a distraction that got my head wandering onto an utterly irrelevant concern.

"So, how did it go?" he said as small talk the moment he pulled out of the crowded parking lot. Shit, there had to be three hundred cars in the lot. People were going in and coming out of doors all over this side of the massive building.

"Thank you for picking me up, Master Marcus."

"Oh, come on. Stop being so formal. You know, this is my first run converting sissie. I'm dying to know how it went. I bet it shocked the hell out of you when they—" He made scissor movements with his fingers "—snipped your boy parts."

"I was shocked. Nobody could speak," I said, not because I wanted to chat about it, but because I needed to please him so I could mention what I had to do before the car went too far in maybe the wrong direction.

"Well, you're one fine piece of ass bitch now, Nancita!" The name apparently got him laughing out of control.

"I wanted to touch base again about our plan. I need to cash out what I can of my share of the company, and then I'll pay you half, just for a bus ticket and a ride." I lied: "I want to express my appreciation to you with the money." What kind of fool would pass up an offer like that? It seemed easy, too, one, two, done.

"Oh, that. We talked about that before, didn't we?"

I nodded.

"Boy, I'd sure like to do that. You've always been up front about things, and of the other sissies, you was the anchor, so I feel beholding, Nancita, but there's a problem."

"Problem?" Fuck, fuck, fuck!

"I talked to Tosha about it. She said that your company was sold to her company five months ago, and that you got the prescribed payout for your share of stock. That went towards paying off the renovations, so since you paid for all the new facilities, your stock is kaput. It was a fine investment for the future, though."

"What?"

"You're out of debt, and the company's doing ten times the original business, with zero debt, I should repeat." He looked at me with a sincere face. "That's pretty cool. I know lots of black folks who ain't had the money to pay rent in months. Being out of debt is a pretty common goal, don't you think?"

Think?

We were on the freeway, but traffic was rush hour, and we'd slowed down to stop and start, zero to twenty, back and forth. I opened the door and jumped out.

A car hit its horn and blared as I dodged traffic, clear to the berm and over. We were near a bridge, so I ran down the slope and there was a boat. It was tied to a dock, and looked about big enough to carry two men along the shore to fish the reeds. I pushed into the water, and landed inside, floating into the current.

After a while of lying there on my back, wishing I was dead, I chanced a glance back at the bridge. Some cop had pulled up, and his blues and reds were flashing. It was a mile back, though, and nobody was visible, even on the shore, so I just leaned back and rested some more. After all I'd been through, I needed the sleep.

I woke up with the sky graying up to first light, somewhere over the other side of the river, maybe east, maybe morning. The little boat was banging up against the top of a low dam, one of those you could step right onto. The spillway was only a few feet down, strewn with huge boulders, and since the water wasn't particularly high up, not a threat.

I tried to brush the mud off my shoes and the hem of my plain dress, then I walked the dam to the shore, where I kept on going. I recognized the main highway by the number of cars, and took it south. At a rest stop, I found one truck trailer with the back unlocked, and scooted in. It took off south, and when I peeked out, west. Somewhere maybe Oklahoma, I got out, peed in the grass out of my still-painful clit and found my way into the truck stop diner. Johnny D's.

Back a ways, they had restrooms and those little trucker shower places, maybe even a cot or two.

Men whistled. Some of them were white man, and they appeared to be masculine, free, acting as if there was no conspiracy at all. Others were black and they didn't whistle or cat call nearly as much.

Speaking of cats, an elderly white waitress came up to where I'd sat at the last counter stool and she said, "Well, look what the cats drugged in."

I gave her my most desperate look and said, "Please. I need a job. Anything. I'll wash dishes. Take out the trash. Clean the floors. Maybe you need someone to paint? Part time. Full time. Just a few hours."

"Well—"

"I'm a good worker and I'm clean. No drugs or alcohol. I don't even smoke."

"We don't—"

"I'm not wanted by the cops, and I've never been in jail." It was hard to talk like a straight person with that ring in my tongue. As well, I'd been talking in falsetto for so long, I found myself doing it naturally, now. Maybe the hormones had even altered them. I cleared my throat, wondering.

I'm sure the tattoos and ring in my nose was a real turn off for any respectable employer.