The Club

It was a cool July evening when these events took place. I never thought
such a thing would ever happen. Not in my wildest dreams. But it did. I
can't go back now. As I sit here in my quarters - not too posh, but I always
liked simple - I know that I will be like this for the rest of my life.
Dressed in a white lace nightgown, pen in hand, I write this. I'm
practically unconscious of the breasts now, and am accustomed to sitting
down when I need to use the bathroom. It's all part of my life now.
But I jump ahead of myself. Let me go back to where it all began. To tell
how I began, to tell how I started to become the woman I am today, I must go
back to the very beginning of it all.
As I said, it was July and the night was young. I lived in Toronto,
downtown, in a nice condominium. I lived off a good salary provided by my
work in the Art Department of an advertising company. It was a great job,
where I was able to explore my creativity that I seemed to brim with.
I wasn't the most masculine guy. At my age of twenty-eight, I had a feminine
face, curvy hips, and a thin form. My full lips didn't quite belong, and
either did my narrow nose, long eyelashes, or arched, thin eyebrows. Many
thought I was gay, but I never really thought of that. I was simply a guy
(lonely though) making his way through life.
This evening I decided to go to a nearby club. I liked it there - it had a
nice atmosphere with mellow bands, and there were plenty of women though I
never made it past chatting or flirting. It seemed they wanted to talk with
me more than anything.
The club was never full, but had ample people. I liked that about it too. It
wasn't hustled, or packed, or too loud. It was an enjoyable place to spend
the evening.
I was sitting at the bar, sipping my amaretto on the rocks as I gazed
around. A few lovely women walked by, but I didn't get anyone's attention. I
never did. They walked past and went forward, to the more masculine guys.
All I could ever do was hang my head and let out a sigh.
However, this evening, a lovely woman walked through the swinging
kitchen-style doors of the club. Oh, what a woman! With raven locks that
flew down to the middle of her back and large almond shaped eyes, she looked
like the perfect woman to me. The curvy, black-haired figure swayed her hips
as she walked towards me, like she was supposed to meet me here. I smiled up
at her as she took a seat. She winked and sat next to me.
"What are you drinking?" she asked, her voice like satin personified.
I told her my drink of choice, and she ordered two - one for myself and one
for her. I had just finished mine, so I thanked her and offered to pay half.
She refused.
We made the simple, meeting chat. She asked me if I came here often, and she
told me she was new in town and was hoping to find the better of the places.
I recommended this one highly to her, and the bartender laughed as he
listened. I found out that her name was Nadia.
The evening went on and we talked and danced to the music. All was going
smoothly. I hadn't been with a woman since college, so when she asked me to
walk her home I jumped at the opportunity.
We walked the streets of Toronto like a perfect pair, the moon's rays
letting it's light down on us.
We reached her apartment and she asked if I wanted to have a cup of coffee.
Classic invitation. I agreed and we took the elevator upstairs.
Nearing her door, she wrapped an arm around my waist gingerly. I smiled. She
unlocked the door and...
Blackness.
I dont know how long I was out. It could have been minutes, hours, days... I
awoke feeling hungry, and tied to a bed. The sounds of clickings and bleeps
sounded in the room was my vision slowly cleared. I thought I was in the
hospital, before I realized I was held by restraints.
"Goodevening, Blair." I heard a voice say to me. I slowly opened my eyes,
seeing a woman hazily. The woman who had brought me to her apartment.
Someone else was with her.
She looked sophisticated. The sexy librarian look. Her blonde hair was tied
back, a few stray strands running along her face. She wore a labcoat and
rubber gloves. Glasses sat upon her nose - black rimmed and triangular.
"Where... where am I?" I asked, dazed and confused.
That's when she explained everything.
"You're the perfect female, you know. You have a lovely figure, though it
could use some enhancements... and such a pretty young face. You're lucky to
have a name like Blair, because if it were a little more boyish I would have
to rename you." She said. I didnt understand, and apparently she saw this.
"You are to become a woman, and my slave. My friend Shirley here is going to
do a few operations on you. As you can see, she already has."
I looked down at myself to see two small mounds of flesh sticking out of my
chest. I gasped as I slowly came to my senses and realized they were
breasts. Small breasts. They looked to be B cups.
I stuttered words... "You... you cant do this!"
She laughed, almost sinisterly. "I already have. From now on, Blair, you are
my slave. I am your mistress. So you will always address me as mistress."
I thrashed against the restraints. My breasts hurt as I tossed and turned.
"You can't do this!!" I screamed!
She smacked me hard across the face. I only continued to thrash. "If your
going to act like a child, then you are going under yet again! And call me
Mistress, dammit!" she put a cloth over my face. After a few struggled
breaths, the ether that was soaked in the cloth knocked me out.
The darkness enveloped me once more.
I awoke sitting along in the room. I wasn't restrained. The medical
equipment was gone... I felt aches all over my body, and I slowly stood up
and stumbled to a mirror.
I was shocked. My hair was longer, it flew down to my shoulders. These were
hair extensions, though they seemed grafted to my skull. I reached up and
touched stubble upon my head. They had shaved it clean.
My face was clean of all facial hair, as was the rest of my body. And my
breasts... I couldn't get over them. I moaned in dispair as I saw that my
penis appeared shrunk, bald like the rest of my body.
I took in my surroundings.
The room was dark. It had no decor, just pale gray carpet and white walls.
There was the bed that I had awoken in, and a desk with a chair. A closet
was in the far corner, left closed.
I went to the desk, and spotted a note on it, written in very fancy, flowing
writing. I read it outloud to myself and noticed my voice was sharper,
higher, more feminine. I almost yelped.
The note said this:
Blair,
You are just waking up from your comatose state, no doubt. I hope you like
the changes we have made. You are going to my my slave, my property, from
now on. On your left arm we have imbedded chemical tubes. Much like the new
form of birth control, these slowly give you estrogen to make you more and
more like the lady slut you'll be for me.
If you look in the closet, you'll find a leather skirt and a white blouse,
as well as a pair of thong underwear and a buttplug. Wear these.
Waiting,
Nadia
I could have screamed. I didn't, though. I Felt the urge, the need to obey
the note's commands. Or maybe it was just curiousity. I made my way to the
closet, and found precisely what I expected. On each garment there was a
little note. The thong told me to bring my cock and balls back between my
legs before I slid on the thong. The buttplug explained how to apply it. The
blouse told me to leave the last 5 buttons undone so my cleavage would be
seen clearly. The leather skirt told me to unzip the zipper along the side
to half way to show off my thighs. I did all that was asked and looked in
the mirror.
I did look very much like a woman. My facial features made the
transformation perfect. My bust, though small, stuck out and were perky. I
could see my nipples pressing through the white fabric. This aroused me, the
look, but also offended me. Yet I could do nothing but obey.
I opened the door of the bedroom, half-expecting to find no one there.
Hoping. But there sat Nadia by herself, legs crossed as she read a newspaper
and sipped a martini.
Her apartment was beautifully decorated. Paintings lined the walls, and a
little gas fireplace with formed marble framing sat against one wall. A
parlour piano rested on a platform in the far corner by the balcony.
All was white, except for the picture frames and furnature, which seemed to
be all black, giving the apartment an almost futuristic feel.
My bare feet felt good across the carpet as I slowly made my way to her. She
looked up from her newspaper and offered me a smile.
"Goodmorning, slave." she said to me in a pleasant voice.
I whimpered "Goodmorning, Mistress" back to her, afraid of what else she
might do to me.
She grinned and applauded my obedience. "Good, you remember the last thing I
said to you. Well, let's get some things straight here. You are mine. You
are no one elses. If you dare try to inform the authorities, I will castrate
you as they break my door down. Things could be a lot worse, trust me. You
will serve as a maid, as a lover, as a cook, as a cleaner."
My ears perked up at lover. At least some good would come from this.
She walked to me and handed me a list. I looked down and raised an eyebrow.
She explained. "This is a list of things you must do today. If you do not,
you will be severely punished."
I gasped quietly, and nodded. "Yes Mistress."
She told me to get cracking.
I did just that.
The list had labourous tasks set before me. Clean the kitchen, make her
breakfast (with instructions), vaccum, clean the bathroom (toothbrush
included), make lunch... the list went on. But I did what she asked me to,
partly in fear of what she might do to me, partly due to the fact that I
wanted to do it for some strange reason.
At the end of my labour I came to her and bowed, though I had no idea why.
She smiled at me. "You're done?"
I nodded.
"Everything?"
I nodded again.
"Good. Time for your reward. Get on your knees, slave."
I did as she asked, hanging my head in shame.
"Dammit, slave! Look at me when I talk to you!"
I looked up immediately into her eyes.
"Good, now that your done your chores you get your reward."
She was wearing a sundress at the time. And slowly she hiked it up around
her hips, and I gazed dreamily at her glistening folds of her pussy.
Thoughts immediately came to pleasuring her with my mouth. She grinned down
at me. "You like what you see, dont you slave?"
"Yes mistress..." I mouthed in awe.
She gripped my head by the hair. I flinched as she turned around, spreading
her firm cheeks. "Lick my asshole." she commanded.
I did.
I sat there and drove my tongue along the pink circle, feeling it contract
occasionally. I licked to my hearts content, the smell of her sex pungent in
the air around me. All I could do was lick and lick and lick. When I tried
to penetrate her ass, she smacked my hard across the head.
"I said Lick, slave! Not penetrate! Now, eat me." she turned and spread her
legs. I could see the dewdrops of her juices forming about her closely
cropped black netherhair. I licked along the labia, moving slowly into her.
I ate her out for hours, it seemed, until finally, when my face was drenched
in her cum, she told me to stop.
This has been my routine for the last few years. Occasionally, she gets her
strapon and fucks me in my sissy cunt, as she calls it. I can still feel the
plastic and rubber cock fill me, the pressure of the false head upon my ring
until at long last she breaks through, filling me to the hilt before rocking
hard against me, roughly so. I can still hear the cries of pain, the moans
of pleasure, the gasping of breath. I can still taste the sweat, the juices.
This is my life. This is how it must be.
I am Blair. I am a sissy-slut for life.


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