John Tames Me

I met John through some friends at a party in college, I was in my second year, he had just graduated. That first night I ended up drunk and alone in a room with him blabbing my mouth about some of my deepest trans fantasies and I don't quite remember how but I ended up blowing my first cock that night.

John was a big guy, a football player body and just the type I'd fantasized about getting fucked by when I'd been intoxicated. It turns out I was pretty much what he was looking for...small stature, submissive side just waiting to be brought out and tamed.

He started slow, a couple of grab-a-beer dates that lead to me giving him head in the back of his car. Wow did he have a beast in his pants but over time, I learned to take it all.

We had just got back to his apartment one night when John mauled me and pushed me onto his bed. He stripped me of my pants so fast I barely knew what was going on and then we made out for a bit while he fumbled with my ass. Soon thereafter I began dildo training and within a week, I was ready to try John's foot long monster.

Anal poundings became a daily ritual after that, sometime 2 or 3 times if he was feeling extra horny. He introduced me to a few pills he called "enhancement drugs" and started using a numbing agent on my cock occasionally before we fucked; he said he liked the way it made me limp as a noodle and I wanted to please him more and more these days so we began using it more and more. I didn't like the lack of orgasm at first but I couldn't help my newfound desire to obey John's every whim, he seemed to have a power over me and I began to submit to him more and more. Soon I was orgasming from the poundings just as often and more intensely than ever before and I quickly forgot about my shrunken genitalia.

By the second semester of my Junior year I was failing out of school in deference to spending my time with John or just being at John's place or around his things. I spent almost all of my time at his apartment and was barely able to function without his constant oversight and direction. I was helpless without him. I dropped out and moved in with him, abandoning almost all of my former possessions and life in the process.

John began to replace my clothes with prettier, more feminine things and told me to start wearing eyeliner. He added to my regimen bit by bit and by the time summer had ended I was starting every day with almost an hour of prep and makeup. John had introduced me to lifts to "show off my ass" a little and slowly replaced all of my shoes with lifts, wedges, heels, stilettos and boots. By the end of the summer, I was getting fucked in heels every night, and John had mandated that I was never to be caught in anything less than 4 inches unless I was changing into a different pair. My calves ached but damn did my ass look good for my man.

Around August John stopped using the numbing agent on me but I remained limp, my cock now shrunk to barely an inch and a half long. I had begun to notice other changes in my body. My flesh was redistributing and my skin was getting softer. My chest began to hurt and my nipples swelled. Soon my chest began to jiggle whenever I walked and John was more and more interested in suckling and fondling my areolas with every passing day. In September John bought me my first training bra. He told me he'd been giving me hormones but that they were being impeded by my natural sex so it was time to remove my testicles. I was scared and unsure of what to do but John didn't give me time to process. We entered a doctors office the next day and I was gassed up 3 hours later.

When I woke up I immediately knew something else had happened. My face was covered in bandages, I couldn't speak. My body ached all over.

I faded in and out for a while and when I awoke again, the bandages were gone from my face. I felt very weak.

John soon came to my side and soothed me. He explained everything that had happened. I had been under for more than three weeks, in and out of consciousness. John had ordered a few more procedures to help with the transition. My balls were gone, so was most of my body hair. My face had been sculpted into a much more feminine shape, my nose less than half its previous size, my eyes now almond shaped, my cheeks high and swept back. But my lips, my lips were amazing. Almost cartoony. I could barely move them into shapes to form words but was told that was temporary. Blowjobs would be epic from now on. I didn't look for the first two days but finally I had the courage to remove the padding over my crotch and examine the new me. I couldn't believe it, I almost appeared completely female. The skin where my testicles had been was folded in on itself with a crease down the middle and swollen with a gel agent so it looked like a pair of fleshy labia. My penis, already barely more than an inch long with a glans the size of a small cherry had somehow been pulled back so that just the glans remained poking out from my abdomen. The glans itself had been shrunk even more to maybe the size of a blueberry and was dense and firm, and extremely sensitive. The hole seemed to have closed up. Just below the glans at the top of my faux vagina was a catheter. John gently removed it and that night I sat and peed without using a penis for the first time ever.

Having waited three weeks, John was ruthless in bed that night and with my limp body I felt like a ragdoll flung to and fro for the amusement of my owner. Bliss.

Many of my muscles had atrophied but John seemed to prefer my new weakened state. Rather than go to rehab John left me to retrain my body on my own at home. I slowly began to regain strength but I was exhausted all of the time and grouchy. John explained that without the testosterone in my system to fight it, the female hormones were running rampant. By the end of December rampant was an understatement. I more than properly filled out my clothing now, and exclusively shopped at stores that catered to the sexy woman. John would give me lists from time to time and I would revel in running around in my already slutty clothes trying on even sexier outfits for my man to tear off.

Our sex life had gotten even more intense. Now John had so much more power over me I had no control at all...I kind of feared his aggression but that itself thrilled me. I got a rush from knowing I was so powerless to stop him from doing anything he wanted to me. As for the mechanics, now that I had a button instead of a handle, missionary and cowgirl had become my two favorite positions. Riding John with my "clit" rubbing up against his pubic bone while his man-meat thrust in and out of my ass was almost unbearable it felt so good. I often had to ask John to slow down or stop to give me a chance to reorient myself during missionary. With his huge cock sliding almost all the way out then slamming back in, his body pounding into my nub with each thrust while I lay helpless beneath him, my own tits slapping my chin with every rock back and forth, if he ignored me and kept plowing through I often passed out from the overwhelming sensation. John seemed to take pride in being able to do that too me.

By June of the next year my body had plateaued in its progress and I could tell John was up to something. I had a 28" waist, 34" hips, and a C-cup bust which I was very proud of, knowing many girls like me don't make it past A-cup territory, but John seemed less enthusiastic about them since they'd stopped growing. The day we ate lunch across the street from the clinic I'd had my previous surgeries at I realized what was happening and got excited. Not that I knew what procedure was planned, but knowing I was going to go in making my man happy and come out making him even happier seemed to be all I needed. I was giddy. As he paid the check, John turned to me and said two words "new tits."

And tits they were. It was 2 weeks before I was comfortable enough for John touch them. Sometimes you lose sensation during a boob-job, sometimes the opposite happens, and sometimes, your nipples become so sensitive you have to ease yourself back into wearing shirts. And bras. Yeah, I ran around topless at home for three weeks while my tits healed. 1200cc's crammed into a 300cc breast. They're almost the size of my head and round as bowling balls. I love them. Mostly because John loves them. Well, that, and they look amazing! And they feel amazing. It's like the nerve endings doubled when they stretched out the skin. The whole tit feels arousing now. My nipples, excessively puffy before, with even larger areolas from the hormones, now looked perfect on the end of these globes.

As they healed, I began to take pleasure in new things my huge tits introduced me too. Head turning was one, catcalling another. I would frequently find myself taking routes past construction sights while shopping just to hear the whistles and comments. I often got a little shudder at particularly raunchy requests and would find myself rushing to the nearest ladies room so I could use my little purse friend real quick.

I loved how my tits slapped together when john took me from behind and I was especially proud of how much more effective they were at tit-fucking...they were so big John could even fuck my tits straight in, though not with his whole cock.

About two years into our new relationship as a man and mostly-woman John sat me down to discuss something very important. This was unusual, my man didn't need to ask my opinion on important matters, he knew he had my implicit trust, practically ownership of me, so I became very concerned when he told me he needed to get my permission for something. What he outlined next I was not prepared for. Recent advances in medical science had made it theoretically possible to transplant an actual vagina from a female to a male, and there had been decent success in pig trials. Now a clinic was looking for human subjects, but there was a sizeable chance of death as a risk. Now I understood why John had wanted to discuss this with me, and for a tiny moment I was disheartened that he didn't think I trusted him with my life until I realized he cared so much he wasn't sure if HE wanted to have it done and had needed ME to convince him. At the end of the conversation, when the question came, all I said was "Whatever makes you happy baby" to which John smiled as I watched a planet's worth of weight slide off his shoulders. That night I can't even describe the depths to which he plunged into my cavern, the whole while my mind alive with the thought that soon, John would have 3 holes to release himself in, and I would never be rested again.

The procedure itself was not complicated from my end. I went in and, much like before, woke up about 2 weeks later. I felt a slight pressure in my pubic area behind my faux vagina but that was largely from the small plastic dilator installed. While the vaginal canal was real and therefore not prone to closing up like in other trans surgeries, the internal connections apparently needed constant pressure to bond correctly and make the proper nerve connections. The next 3 months was agony, like the worst burning intestinal cramps you can imagine, all day, everyday. I was on meds, I was in bed, I was miserable, but I knew it would be worth it if the surgery took. Around the end of the 3rd month I had my first day without constant pain. There were quite a few times I felt nothing at all, but there was still no sensitivity to speak of. By the end of the 4th month, my abdomen was down to waves of dull persistent ache and John and I were back to fucking, anal only, of course. To avoid damage, we mostly fucked in doggy, so I used a vibrator on my clit for added stimulation.

Around the end of the 5th month I began to notice sensation when I would slip and mash the vibrator into my labia during sex. Around 6 months I was actively masturbating with a dildo and had stretched my new vagina almost enough to accommodate an average penis. It felt good but I did not know if I could have a vaginal orgasm or even what path to take until one night, lying in the tub, I was so relaxed, I kept relaxing more and more, and as I kept pumping my dildo in and out of myself I began to feel a wave of pleasure pulsing inside me. I began to rock back and forth, the waves in the tub like the waves in my body growing momentum with every pulse, the rythm of the world outside and the world inside in perfect synchronization, trying to get the wave to crash, I crested for a moment, unsure if I could get all the way there...all of a sudden WHAM, my orgasm hit, I convulsed and nearly drowned in the bathwater. After that John and I began what I did not realize would be the slow, arduous process of stretching my new vagina out to accommodate his monster cock. It had been so long since we'd first hooked up that I'd forgotten there was a time I couldn't take the whole thing. Now that I was starting all over again, it was a pleasant experience, albeit a bit painful.

Eventually John was able to pound my pussy just as hard, even harder than my ass, and we actually began to fuck more vaginally than anally.

Since then John and I have re-entered the world as a couple...I've found a great part-time job at a local strip club as a host (this pussy is for my man, but I like the attention and so does he) and I have a whole new world of co-workers and daily drama to help me ease into this new life. Only a handful of our closest friends know anything about me is different than the average lady. The rudest comments I receive are about my pornstar sized fake tits but that's between me and my man.

Now if only they could transplant a uterus...