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From: nostrumo@nienor.IN-Berlin.DE (Nostrumo)
Subject: Repost TG: Alana by She-Devil (1/1)
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Hi.
Here one story of the rather notorious She-Devil. For the older ones
you know her style and plot line. For the innocent beware your
friendly secretary.
As usual I DIDN'T write this story and haven't any claim on it. If
you have some usefull hints or some good coments, your mail is then
welcome. Flames, you know, they will be piped to /dev/null.
If you are an author and wish to remain anonymouns or just try to
avoid the replies to your work. I offer you the chance of posting your
stories and collecting the response for you. This offer only stands for
story postings and for nothing else.
Enjoy the story.
Ciao
Nostrumo
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> cut here with a sharp knife <<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<
Alana
by She-Devil
Alan looked himself over in the mirror carefully, picking a bit of fluff or
lint here and there from his tight, pink, angora sweater dress. The black
patent belt around his waist was too wide and tight and the black patent
spikes on his feet were too tall for him to ever think of walking very far.
Alan combed a little more mousse through his ultra-short champagne pink
hair. The punkish single finger of hair, tinted from pink to lavender, hung
at his nape down between his shoulder blades. His make up was perfect. In
the mirror, Alan was an alluring, sexy woman -- all except for the neat dark
mustache `she' wore.
Getting some white wine from the fridge, he still couldn't believe how he
had gotten himself into this. Trapped as a woman with breasts, figure, and
all! And all over a stupid mustache.
Before all this, Alan Ross was one of the up-and-comers on Wall Street. He
made big money, had all the hot investments, was definitely loaded. Along
the way he met Sheila, blonde and beautiful, the perfect sort of female
accessory for a soon-to-be power broker in the big time money game. Sheila
moved in and made herself useful.
Sheila started to input Alan's transactions into the personal computer in
his study. Then, she started to run his projections. Sheila handled his
bills, his calls, his schedule. With Sheila doing the grunt work of his
life, Alan did whatever he pleased. He certainly had the time.
Christmas Day was Sheila's birthday and Alan had a pave diamond bracelet
from Tiffany's for her. But Sheila seemed distant and sullen. Oh what the
hell! She's probably just starting her period thought Alan.
"Sheila, I got you something to show you just how much I appreciate you and
all you've done. I wanted it to be something really special and I hope you
like it."
Sheila ooed and aahhed but still she seemed not quite right.
"What's up, Sheila? You're not yourself. Want to tell me about it?"
"I know it's silly, but there is something that I'd really like. It
wouldn't cost a thing, but I know it would be asking a lot of you."
"So tell me what it is and maybe I can make it happen."
"Would you shave off your moustache? You see it really bothers me. I keep
getting tickled by when we kiss and I don't like the way it looks on you."
No way! Alan was well aware that at 5'6" and 135 pounds that he was on the
delicate side for a man by anyone's standards. His moustache was part his
`masculine' image, part of what made him one of the boys. Sorry, but
shaving it off was something he wouldn't do for anybody.
"Sheila, I love you, really I do but I don't think I can do that. I would
look like a kid or a girl or something if I shaved it off."
"Dammit Alan! If you loved me you'd do it. I bet you'd rather dress like a
girl than shave that stupid thing off."
Angry now, Alan retorted. "If that's what you want to hear, you're damn
right! I would. I'd rather dress like a girl than shave my moustache off."
Sheila stormed out, sulking. These arguments are a drag. I need to get her
in line. If she's going to start breaking my balls, this bitch is history.
Alan stewed alone.
********* Sheila slipped out of bed. Alan snored noisily and stirred as
she left but remained out of it.
In the bathroom, Sheila pulled a small glass vial from behind a picture.
Morphal X, the latest project at X Industries, where it was referred to as
M-X. She knew the name came from the word morphallaxis, meaning regeneration
of a part or transformation of one part into another by means of structural
reorganization with only limited production of new cells. Sheila had paid a
fortune...well, Alan had, after all it was his money.. for this stuff.
Still experimental and hard to find even on the black market, it worked by
taking up the fatty deposits and water buildup in the body and
redistributing all that mass to the hips and breasts. X Industries saw
potential in it to replace, or as an adjunct to, cosmetic surgery but hadn't
dealt with the side effects of rapid hair growth and loss of height. How
much to give Alan?
The instructions said one cc for every twenty pounds. After his macho pig
act tonight, Sheila wanted to make sure he got what was coming to him. The
right dosage should have been 6.75 cc's, but the needle capacity was 9 cc's,
so that's what Sheila filled it to. A little spray anesthetic hid the prick
of the ultra-fine needle when Sheila slipped it into Alan's rear and he soon
had the powerful drug coursing through his body.
********* "Oh my God! What's happened to me?"
Alan was standing in front of a full length mirror by the time Sheila got to
his room. Nice job that M-X did. Alan was shorter by at least two inches.
He had what looked like a fat pair of `C' cup breasts and his hips were
getting nice and wide.
"Shut up, you little sissy!"
Alan saw Sheila for the first time. She was dressed head to toe in black
leather. In her six inch heels, she towered over the rapidly feminizing
male.
"Sheila, what did you do to me?"
"I took you at your word. You said you would rather look like a girl than
shave off your moustache. Now, you do. And a very sexy girl, I must say."
Sheila caught a handful of Alan's now shoulder length chestnut hair and
pulled him to his toes.
"Let's get something straight from the beginning. I'm a lot stronger than
you, I'm a lot smarter than you, and if you don't do exactly as I say, I'll
make your life hell."
Too terrified to speak, Alan could only nod his submission. To his dismay,
Sheila pulled box after box of woman's clothing from the closets. It was
obvious that she'd been planning this for some time.
"I have to make a few phone calls. While I'm busy, I want you to put all
your new clothing away neatly and throw all your old men's stuff in these
boxes." Alan was left in a daze as Sheila made her way to the study.
First, out came all the male clothes; suits, slacks, shirts, and shoes. In
went dozens of pairs of sexy panties and bras. The bras seemed to run in
sizes from 38C to 44D. These were followed by all sorts of frilly lingerie
including tap panties, stockings, and garter belts. There were also several
corsets that looked like they would be very uncomfortable to wear.
Then there were the dresses, skirts, blouses, and sweaters. And the shoes!
By the time Sheila returned, Alan had the bedroom switched around as
ordered. Every stitch of male clothing was boxed and ready to go.
"Well now, Alana. Oh yes, I've decided to call you Alana. We certainly
can't call you Alan. Here are the rules: You are to get up every morning
at 6 A.M. I want you dressed in your Maid's Uniform, made up, and in the
kitchen by seven. At 7:30, you will serve me breakfast in bed."
"After I leave for work, you will change into whatever clothes I have
specified for you to wear that day. From then, until noon, you will clean
the place from top to bottom, whether it's clean or not."
"At noon, you can eat the lunch I leave for you."
"After lunch, you will change into your third outfit of the day and watch
soap operas and talk shows all afternoon. I'll be taping them so you had
better pay attention. I might just ask a few questions. God help you if
you don't know the answers."
"Just before I return home, you will change again and have a drink ready for
me. After the dinner you will cook and serve, another change of clothes for
you and time to get all your changes for the next day laid out, give
yourself a beauty facial, and, of course, care for your precious moustache."
"See, that's the biggest joke of all. You won't grow any more facial hair,
but you do have a little moustache problem, don't you? So many girls do.
Well, if your a very, very good girl and you beg me every night before I put
you to bed, I might let you have it electrolysized off.'
Alan looked at himself in the mirror. Unbelievably, he hadn't noticed. His
moustache was still there, ludicrous now on such a feminine face.
"Sheila.." My God, he thought, even my voice is changing! "Sheila. I'm
begging you. Let me shave it off. I'll shave it off right away and keep it
off for good. Just don't do this to me. I'll do anything you want..."
Sheila cut off Alan's quivering plea. "You'll do whatever i say because I
tell you to and you'll keep that moustache until I decide to believe that
you are sincere."
"Now get dressed. Someone's coming over, and I have plans for you."
********* Alan's face was burning hot. His hair had been washed and was
now being cut. Cut really short, maybe a quarter of an inch long. The
floor was covered with long brown hair. One long lock of hair was left to
trail down his back, and Alan was forced to sit as a thick white goo was
worked into his hair. After a few minutes, his scalp was burning, but no
one paid him the least attention. Finally, the hairdresser put his head
back in the sink and rinsed his hair thoroughly for nearly twenty minutes.
Now another lotion was being rubbed in. Alan couldn't see himself, they had
covered the mirrors. When she came to the single lock down his back, she
seemed almost to be painting. Rinsed again, now he could see what had been
done to him.
His hair was pink and that tail was purple. And so short! The hairdresser
looked at Alan in his black spandex jumpsuit with the big chrome industrial
zipper running down between his legs and snickered.
"Listen, Dearie, I can't wait for you to overcome your little moustache
problem and come into my shop for a total beauty treatment. I'd love to
help you stay pretty like this."
This was part of Sheila's plan and Alan new it. Even after she had bonded
the false pussy... Sheila called it a duralatex vagiform...to cover his
male genitals, Sheila had made sure that the hairdresser knew exactly what
was being done to him.
Alan was setting out tomorrow's changes under Sheila's strict eyes. Six
changes to plan for, with accessories and make up to suit. Looking at what
was now laid out made him feel even more sick and anxious.
Alan had a hot, perfumed, bubble bath, followed by a mud mask facial.
Sheila laced him into a wasp waisted corset that pushed his breasts up high
and compressed his waist substantially. From 26 inches to 21, Alan felt cut
in half. But scarier was the fact that the edges did not meet in back. It
was going to get worse.
There were ankle boots with ballet toes and no heels that locked his feet
straight and stiff. Satin mittens that buttoned up to his elbows made his
hands useless. Finally, after rubbing skin creams into his face, Sheila
laced a lined satin helmet about his head. A rubber sponge filled his
mouth. He could breathe through it but barely. The mask made him blind,
deaf, and dumb.
Sheila arranged her subject on the bed, his big breasts thrusting upwards
nicely. Using wide satin ribbons from D-rings at his toes and hand pods,
Sheila pulled Alan spread-eagle on the black satin sheets. The white satin
of Alan's bondage contrasted fabulously. It was all going perfectly.
Lastly, Sheila wheeled over a drip stand with a fat enema bag hanging from
it. Into the bag she poured a powder and a big pitcher of water. `X
Industries Destabilized Animal Fat', that's just what this sissy needs,
thought Sheila. This stuff was reduced to a ratio of sixteen to one so that
one ounce equaled a pound of fat. Sheila added another drop of M-X to the
mix and fixed a long plastic tube from the bag to the white access tube
jutting so conveniently from Alan's mouth.
So tomorrow, my little sissy will be ten pounds heavier, and with the M-X,
it will go to all the right places. Sheila couldn't help giggling to
herself as she watched the treacherous fluid beginning to drip into Alan's
sponge gag. He would have to drink every drop just to breathe. And in the
morning, when all his clothes are tight...maybe even too tight to get on!
Sheila found herself laughing out loud and not ever wanting to stop.
********* Alan carried the tray carefully into Sheila's bedroom. His
dress was much too tight to go quickly. Thank God it was a stretchy fabric.
At least he had been able to wiggle into it. And the way his breasts stuck
out was really embarrassing. They hadn't looked this big last night. A 38C
bra hadn't fit this morning, and now the 40D felt a little snug.
"Good morning, Sheila. Your breakfast is served."
Sheila eyed her latest undertaking. Look at the butt on this one. Alan had
to be 40 inches across the hips and he was much more busty now. Alan
couldn't keep the sway out of his hips now when he walked, and his hobble
skirt only served to accentuate his feminine gait. But then, there was that
silly moustache.
"Good morning, Alana. How did you sleep?"
Fearing some trick, Alan smiled. "Very well, thank you."
Alana, I don't want you calling me by name anymore. Please refer to me as
Ma'am and, whenever I enter or leave a room, I'll expect you to curtsey."
"Yes, Ma'am."
"And keep your eyes down. Speak only when spoken to. I want to see your
hands limp at your sides unless doing something at my direction. And stand
with your back very straight and shoulders back."
Alan made the various adjustments as Sheila spoke. Visibly chastened, he
docilely followed behind his Mistress as she showered, dressed, and prepared
to leave.
At the door, Sheila stopped to give final instructions. "Alana, I want you
to have this place immaculate when I return, or I'll put you over my knee."
********* How could he clean dressed like this? Alan put down the lame
stole that matched his long formal dress and polished the table. In two
hours, he had put the entire downstairs right. Lunch was a tossed dry salad
with diet soda.
Now he was settled in, dressed head to toe in clinging black velvet,
watching soap operas. Would Sheila really tape them and ask him questions
about them? This was getting out of hand, how to escape?
At dinner, Alan was a vision in blue taffeta and, after dinner, a vixen in
red satin. After all his changes were set out, and Alan was bathed, his
routing changed.
"Put this on."
`This' was a black rubber girdle, heavily boned, with two hard prongs built
into the crotch. Alan whimpered as first the longer fatter one was inserted
and then driven deep into his false vagina, exciting his cock under it. It
was soon followed up his rear by it's mate. Alan laced up the girdle,
pushing and pulling his bottom into two perfect globes. Then came the
corset, the hand pods, and the heel-less boots. Was it the same corset? It
seemed even narrower in the waist. Helmeted and spread-eagled, Alan
couldn't see Sheila hook up another bag of forced fat feeding. But this
time she added a few new goodies.
Lactamorphonate-M. A dangerous test hormone designed to induce milk
production in cows. First tested in the dairy industry, human females had
been exposed by accident and found their breasts converted to constantly
flowing milk factories.
A mild stimulant and aphrodisiac were blended in. The tube was hooked up
and Sheila made sure that Alan was getting his hormone milkshake. Then she
attached two wire leads to the plugs filling Alan's holes. The vibrations
made Alan go rigid. For the rest of the night, at random intervals, Alan
would have a vibrator going in either his pussy, ass, or both.
Sheila couldn't wait for tomorrow.
********* Alan tried to tell Sheila, but she wouldn't listen. Those
things inside him had been vibrating. They really had! And now his breasts
were even bigger. Only his 44D bras fit right now. His skirts still fit,
but all his dresses and blouses were ridiculously tight across the bust.
Looking at himself, in the mirror, in his exercise leotard, Alan knew how
foolish he looked. So sexy, with a man's moustache.
Sheila wouldn't listen to him beg. It was going to take going through
whatever she had planned for him, before he could remove the moustache, and
he was trapped for the duration.
Why were his breasts growing so much? What was Sheila up to? When this was
over and he was back to normal, Alan was definitely getting rid of Sheila.
She was too damn dangerous.
Exercise leotard. Nurse. Ballerina. Go-go girl. Cocktail dress. Today,
it was all green and white. Alan had given up on trying to guess where
Sheila was taking him. Time to get into his tutu and watch his soaps.
********* Alan was in obvious discomfort. His corset was laced down to 18
inches and his breasts were pumped up to 48DD's on M-X and his force fed
diet. Sheila took notes as Alan struggled, tied to the bed. Hmm, third
night on Lactamorphonate-M. Second night on Esterase-L. That one was a
banned hormone used to put breeding stock in heat full time. human females
exposed to it had become sexually insatiable. Now was the night to start
him on Detestosterone. This hormone attacked any male hormone in the
subject's body. It created a craving in the subject to remedy the loss of
hormonal balance, since every normal human body produces both male and
female hormones. Those exposed became addicted to male hormones, needed
them in their system. Source of first preference was their species sperm.
Won't Alan be surprised at all the special things about himself?
Sheila grabbed one of Alan's massive breasts and squeezed. A stream of milk
shot up into the air.
Good! Sheila thought. By tomorrow he'll be a regular cow, pumping himself
twice a day. I can't wait to see him drink his own milk.
********* Alan sat at the kitchen table. The electric pump hummed
noisily. How can this be happening to me?
One container was full and Alan was busy filling the second. Trying to put
on a bra had brought forth a flood of milk. Alan panicked, but Sheila had
explained that this was just a rare, but expected, side effect of the
feminizing process. If Alan did as he was told everything would be alright.
So Alan had learned to use the breast pump and now had to pump himself every
other hour. It wasn't hard to tell when he was overdue; his breasts felt
like they would explode.
Alan switched the bottles and watched as the third was half filled before he
went dry. Adjusting his nursing bra, Alan carried the bottles to the
refrigerator. Neatly lined up inside were another ten. At this rate he
might fell thirty a day. And he felt so hot. Itchy. He kept rubbing his
false vagina trying to find some relief. Alan had looked for his dildo
girdle, but couldn't find it.
That afternoon as Alan pumped himself yet again, he found himself looking at
the crotches of the men on television, not realizing that he was doing so.
I wonder what it would be like...
********* Sheila sat in the study and reviewed her lover's progress. His
breast growth had stopped at 55DD and Alan was pumping out more than twenty
ounces of milk every two hours. His uncorsetted waist was down to 18
inches, while his hips had been compressed to stay at 40. He now stood 5'2"
and weighed 147 pounds, mostly tits and ass.
This evening when Sheila had shown him a much more aggressively endowed
version of the latex girdle, Alan had been quite willing to impale himself
and insert the leads. Even now, she could hear him sighing thorough another
orgasm. The hormone drip was eagerly devoured after Sheila had added a
touch of sperm to the brew. In a short time, she had taken Mr. Wall Street
and turned him into a balloon titted cow, constantly in heat, and dying for
a cock to suck.
The fool probably thought that this was all over a moustache. Hardly!
Sheila wanted to be rich and Alan certainly had been. Tomorrow, Alan would
be drugged and taken to a clinic where he would undergo the surgery which
would make him a complete woman. If things went okay there, it wouldn't be
long before Alan got what was coming to him and so would Sheila.
********* Alan felt awkward. The new gleaming black corset did a lot to
support his enormous swollen mammaries, but to actually walk around with his
breasts bare, with little clear plastic cups catching the milk that leaked
out to run down tubes to the collection bottles mounted on his hips! His
panties were crotchless and the smell of sex followed everywhere he walked.
And the men! He couldn't keep his eyes off them. Had that stretch in the
hospital turned him gay or what?
"Thank you for coming tonight." Sheila stood tall and glamorous in the
middle of the room. "I know the circumstances are odd but Alan wanted it
this way. All his life, Alan knew he was a woman in a man's body. He has
gone through terrible trials to correct nature's mistake. He has worn a
little stage moustache tonight to remind you of the old Alan and tonight
he'll remove it, to show you the new Alana."
The guest were staring at Alan and at, what was obviously, a vagina nestled
between his legs and made conspicuous by the crotchless panties he wore.
They marvelled at the bizarre fittings on his breasts, indeed at the massive
size of his tits. Alan was oblivious to his surroundings and had been for
some time. He wasn't even aware that he no longer wore an artificial pussy.
His thoughts were kind of vague; so what if the moustache is gone? So damn
what. Just look at that hunk over there!
"So if Alan will come up and sign a few documents, we can move the evening
along." Alan signed a petition for a name change from Alan Ross to Alana.
That was going to be his full name, just Alana! He gave power of attorney
over all of his affairs to Sheila, and then deeded all his property and
transferred all his assets to her. He could never deny it. Everyone had
seen him sign away his fortune.
Most of the people drifted off, dazed at the spectacle of Alan so naked and
degraded. But some stayed. Special people, friends of Sheila who had been
promised a party like no other. Strong hands picked, the now tiny Alan, up
and placed him, breasts down, in a metal frame. His big boobs swung free.
A latex head harness that left his face free was first laced tightly on and
then used to force his head up, facing directly ahead. A thick O-ring
forced his jaws wide. Alan's legs were separated and tied with padded cuffs
to rails that left his entire crotch exposed and ready.
Someone entered Alan's new sex from behind. It felt so good to him. Now,
someone was taking out an enormous cock and feeding it to him. Alan's
throat opened to engulf the hard rod. It only took a few slight adjustments
to the frame and Alan was enjoying his first deep throat.
The pull of gravity on his breasts wasn't enough to keep the milk flowing.
His breasts were taut with pent up milk. Alan's little hands kneaded and
pulled at his mams, drawing the milk out. Milking himself, while being
filled at each end, Allen couldn't remember how he had gotten here, except
that Sheila had been so good to him to get him so much action.
Sheila stood back and watched as her former lover, now simply a horny slut
and not good for much other than as a party favor for the male guests,
performed. Amazing! It's like this was what all he,..I mean, she.. was
meant to do her entire life. Whatever, it's all she'll ever do from now on.
Sheila looked back as she went off to another part of the party. Alana was
working on a new set of cocks. I wonder if Alana will ever remember having
been a man, or if she'll even care.
Alana never saw Sheila go. Someone changed her bottles and she was
perfectly content.
Fin
1
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