Collaborative sex stories let us write the plot together
(Her Secret Fantasy, continued by Romeo Catullus...)
A month later, your programming and transformation have been completed. You now have no need for breast moulds, as the estrogen has caused you to grow actual breasts. You now work as a cocktail waitress. Your day is limited to an eight-hour job at the bar, then you go home and service your mistress and her friends. You never see your old friends anymore. You, in other words, are a perfect sissy slut.
One day, while waiting tables, you come across a table with some very familiar faces. Your old friend Jamie is having a drink with Rachel’s boss, John. Jamie gapes as he sees you.
“What happened to you, Ross?” he asks incredulously.
You shrug. “I go by Mandy now. It’s who I am now, although it might be who I’ve always been,” you explain. Despite this, every now and then you get this unusual feeling that something isn’t right. That the transformation wasn’t right
Jamie still looks shocked as he orders drinks. As you walk around, waiting tables, you hear a few of the words that they are saying. “Navy pilot Sawbones doctor ” You don’t see them again that week.
A week later, as you walk home from your job a van pulls up next to you. You expect it to be Rachel driving — she once said she would do a kidnapping fantasy. But when you look, the driver is a man wearing a neck scarf over his nose and mouth, as well as sunglasses. Another man slides open the door and puts a rag over your face, smelling of an odd substance. You pass out as you are dragged into the van.
You slowly wake up, feeling different. You feel numbness all over your body.
You are lying on a table in some abandoned. You try to sit up, but you find that you are strapped down. Suddenly, the upper half of the table props up. A man walks into view from behind the table. It’s Jamie. He sits in one of the four chairs in front of you. John comes in and sits next to him, along with a man with a goatee in a grey jumpsuit and a clean-shaven man wearing scrubs. Blood-stained scrubs.
“Morning, sleepy-head. More like good night, but that would imply you are going to sleep, which you are not,” Jamie says. You struggle against your bonds. You feel leather restraints on bare skin, and you realize that you are naked, and that your chastity cage is gone.
“Me and John were talking, and we’ve decided that Rachel and you are wrong. You used to be a player. You could get any girl you wanted. Until that bitch changed you. I was a Navy Pilot. John here was in the CIA. We are both trained in programming and deprogramming. We’ve decided to deprogram you. But we can’t spend all that time with hormone therapy and showing you porn and stuff. So we called in some help,” Jamie explains.
The man in scrubs introduces himself. “My name is Doctor Saul. You may call me Sawbones. See, you have been under my knife for the past few hours. Let me tell you, John and Jamie must be really good friends. Spare parts ain’t cheap, and the chemicals to force regrow of the nerves and to boost testosterone aren’t easy to get. Neither is the drug to do extensions.” He approaches you with a mirror.
He first shows you your dick. You have stitches on your scrotum, but the biggest surprise is that your cock is hard. And it’s grown an extra three inches. “I procured this from the university lab. Some chick had been testing it and one of the possible side effects was a priapism. It will wear off. Sometime.”
He moves the mirror up to your chest. “We removed the breast tissue, but we ended up having to replace the entire muscles.” The stitches around your chest seem to prove this. He moves the mirror to your neck. There is stitching there too. “The last major surgery was that we took out your vocal chords and replaced them with deeper vocal cords. We did some other touch ups and injections. Basically, you are now a man again. Except improved. Man 2.0,” Sawbones finishes.
“But we can’t operate on the brain,” John says. “So we paid off some guards to let our friend here out on furlough.”
The bearded man speaks up. “My name is irrelevant. The news called me the Electrician. I was sentenced to jail for performing mind-altering therapy on random people. Apparently homeless people are people too,” he chuckles. “I’m getting lots of cigarettes for this.”
“What What type of therapy?” you stammer, not sure you want to know.
“Electro therapy. Very effective. Highly unethical apparently,” the Electrician replies. He starts pushing the upper half of the table down and fixing electrodes to your head.
“Why? Why are you doing this?” you ask. You really don’t want to get shocked to death. You hardly recognize the deeper voice you now have.
Jamie walks over. “I want my best friend back.”
John comes over to the other side. “Since she dominated you, Rachel thinks she can dominate any man at the company. We can’t have other people being the boss. That’s who I am. I’m going to show her that she has failed in her attempts to truly change you.” He turns to the Electrician. “Go ahead.”
You black out as the first burst of searing pain tears through your body