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Subject: Repost TG: After School Special   by Marlissa  (2/3)
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Hi.

  A guidance counselor is cured of his curiosity the hard way.

  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 <<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

2___After_School_Special______________________________________by_Marlissa_



Glen nodded demurely.  For now, he had decided it was easier to accept and
obey.  Minute to minute, hour to hour, he told himself.  Just survive long
enough to get out of this nightmare alive.

"As you know, you're a lucky little girl.  We've adopted you, just like
Brenda.  Rick has taken care of all the legal details.  As your parents, we
have complete responsibility for your upbringing and discipline.  As you've
already discovered, we're very old fashioned when it comes to correcting
improper behavior.  Our opinion is that pretty girls should be seen and not
heard."

Glen swallowed hard.  It was still strange to be think Dr.  Mason was
talking about him, uh, her.

Mr.  Mason-- Daddy-- continued where his wife had left off.  "It really is
too bad for you that you had to meddle in our business- - and that you
happened to be such wonderful material to work with!  Small, child-like in
appearance, no facial hair-- hardly a male at all!  Much better suited to be
a teenage girl-- like Brenda.  You were right about Brenda.  We took her
when she was about twelve.  You see we've always wanted kids.  Though not
for the usual reasons, right Dear?"

His wife, her hands resting in her white lab coat, nodded in agreement.  She
was pleased with her handiwork and like a true craftsman kept inspecting the
finished product, looking for a single flaw.  But there were none, she knew.
Kelly was perfect- - a sexy, sixteen year old girl.

"We are extremely successful and up to three years ago, thoroughly bored.
Money after a certain point means nothing," Mr.  Mason discoursed.  "You
grow soft, begin to watch too much television.  That was how we got hooked
on Beverly Hills 90210.  Have you seen it?  As we watched it, we grew
infatuated with the idea of having those beautiful girls to do with as we
wished.  There's nothing as appealing as a teenage girl coming to terms with
her sexuality.  The experiments with ever-so-subtly seductive, pretty
clothing, the thrill of the stolen first kiss, the innocence of the embrace,
the sweet surrender to the first lover.  It has a taste fuller than the
finer glass of wine.  Lesley agreed.  She had steadily more aroused by the
sight of the pretty, pampered girls on the show.  I think she even brought
up the idea.  Why not capture a runway who looked like one of them for a
pet?  I could handle the legal aspects of the capture and Lesley could do
the necessary cosmetic surgery to turn our new possession into the toy of
our dreams?

You have to understand Kelly that Lesley and I are very sophisticated when
it comes to sex.  We have certain tastes that aren't exactly mainstream.
Because we are both very successful, we have come to look at the world in a
different way.  There are those who take and those who give.  Well, instead
of waiting for something to be offered, we take it.  This goes for our
tastes in lovemaking."

Glen noticed a burning glow in the man's eyes that scared him, scared him
more than anything else had so far.

"You wouldn't understand this, but people who have power like to use it.
The exercise of power over those who don't have it is an intoxicating
experience never lose a taste for.  Power to correct, power to train and
tame, power to bend another to your will--"

"Yessss!" Dr.  Mason's hands were plunged deep in her pockets as her husband
continued his dark discourse.

He smiled at his wife.  "Well, it is a drug.  You get hooked.
Unfortunately, my wife is just as strong willed as I am.  Stalemate.  So we
used whores-- a poor substitute at best.  You never get the sense of true
submission.  Thus, Lesley's idea.  I loved it.  Between the two of us, we
had the capability to pull it off.  But the more Lesley thought about it,
the less enthusiastic she was about her own idea.  I asked her why but she
refused to say.

Then it hit me.  She was worried.  You see, Lesley is as jealous as any
spouse.  As am I. She was concerned about the inevitable course of such a
plan.  What if I became too involved with the runaway?  If I came to
actually grow affectionate?  So I suggested the perfect compromise-- a boy
turned into a girl.  We would leave the male genitals, but the rest would be
completely transformed into a pretty girl.  That way we could have our cake
and eat it too, so to speak.  We would have our teenage temptress to train
and play with, and temptation would be avoided because I'd never, ever leave
my Lesley to run off with a boy.  Not that I would ever leave my darling
wife, but this solution made her feel better and satisfied both our
appetites."

He stroked his long, strong chin in smugness for the brilliant solution they
had concocted.  He looked at Glen with wide, questioning eyes, but Glen
remained silent.

" Since you had to be a nosy little fool, you have no one to blame except
yourself." She smiled disdainfully, her white teeth bared.

"You were kind enough to bring your file regarding Brenda, which I've
destroyed." Mr.  Mason pulled a cigarette from a small silver case and lit
it with an obsidian lighter.  He took a long, slow drag on the black Dunhill
and continued.  "And you're well aware of your tragic demise.  So all the
loose ends are tied up, are they not?"

Glen continued to clutch his breasts.  "You'll punish me if I tell you what
I really think of all this," he answered, his soprano voice wavering with
fear.

Mason flicked an ash in an ashtray and shook his head.  His deep-set eyes
were amused.  "Go ahead, Kelly.  tell us what you REALLY think." His wife's
hard.  cold eyes were on him too, interested in what he had to say.

"My name isn't Kelly.  It's Glen Simmons."

The wife looked at her husband.  The two laughed.  "Your name is Kelly
Mason," Mr.  Mason advised patiently.  "Here is your birth certificate." He
handed a square piece of paper to Kelly, who took it quickly so as to keep
his breasts covered.

He scanned it.  It said that he was indeed Kelly Mason, that his parents
were listed as unknown, that he had been born sixteen years ago.  It was
notarized with the appropriate date, the signatures legitimate, the document
completely legal.

"And this." Mason passed another piece of paper to him.  It was notification
that Kelly had been adopted by the Masons two months ago-- about the time of
his "accident."

"And this." Another piece of paper.  This one a death certificate for Glen
Simmons, dated and stamped by the proper authorities.  It was signed by Dr.
Lesley Mason, the reporting physician.

Glen looked up, tears forming.  It couldn't be!  It was impossible to make
someone go away and to create someone else in their place!  It couldn't be
done-- could it?  "I can find witnesses..."

But Mason cut him off.  "You can?  We did someone investigating and WE
couldn't find family, friends, girlfriend, anyone who might miss you.  Are
you telling me there's someone we missed?  Save your breath-- we didn't miss
anything."

"No one will suspect anything out of the ordinary, Blue Eyes." Dr.  Mason
shook her head emphatically.  "No one."

"But I'm a man!  I have a cock!" Glen shrieked in frustration.

The soprano betrayed him and the couple chuckled lightly at the incongruity
of the statement and the dulcet tone in which it was expressed.  "Not
really.  You'll find your chastity belt quite snug, missy.  It isn't coming
off any time soon.  As for being a man, well--- I JUST DON'T THINK SO!" Mr.
Mason boomed in scorn.

Glen looked around craftily and smiled.  "Fine.  You can't watch me all the
time.  I'll get out of here and then--"

Dr.  Mason nodded in agreement.  "Naturally you'll be out of here.  I've
kept you here for observation, for your own good.  But it is time you were
allowed to live in the house with the rest of us.  You have a wonderful
bedroom all set up for you.  Any high school girl would love it."

"And I'll get out of the house then--"

Mr.  Mason looked at him dumbfounded.  "Of course you will, young lady!  If
you think you're going to laze around the house all day, you're plain wrong!
You will be getting out of the house-- and going to high school."

Glen was confused.  "Fine, then when I get to the high school,
I'll...I'll..." His lips opened and slowly closed.  His blue eyes widened.

"You'll what, Kelly?  What will you do?" Mason puffed on his cigarette.
"You'll do nothing, because if you do, you'll be sent home, diagnosed with
mental problems.  And if you run away, you'll be brought back here by the
police.  And even if you do get far enough away, what then?  How far do you
think a pretty blonde, blue eyed sixteen year old runaway girl would get on
the highway or city streets?  Hummm?"

Glen clutched his breasts closer.

" So you can put those thoughts out of your pretty empty little head.
Thinking too much is bad-- very bad.  It's a habit you'll lose soon enough.
Your mother knows how to help you forget those pesky thoughts with some
special medicine you'll be on for a while.  Pretty soon you'll be the pretty
vapid teen you know you are-- and you can concentrate on what's really
important-- like boys and clothes and boys and makeup and boys--"

"And lingerie and boys and jewelry and boys and so on," Dr.  Mason rattled
off.  Then she leered.  "Not that boys are EVERYTHING mind you.  There are
women too."

Glen's hands had bunched into small, angry fists against his heaving bosom.
"How can you make me do that?  You can't--- you can't make me into a girl if
I was born a male!  There's no way!  You just want an act and I'm not going
to pretend to like any of this so you two can get off!" He was furious and
confused, but he knew this was right-- he wasn't gay and he couldn't pretend
to get into this kinky stuff no matter how much they hurt him.  He went on
with more confidence.  "Oh, yeah, you can MAKE me do things, you can FORCE
me to do things, but you'll know it isn't REAL!!!!"

He had hoped the outburst would shatter the perfect surface of their
arrogance, their utter calmness and the everyday-way they were talking about
remaking Glen Simmons, High School Guidance Counselor into Kelly Mason,
sixteen year old girl.  He would have to make them see it just wouldn't
work-- but now they were laughing at him, laughing deeply and richly, as if
he couldn't be more wrong about anything.

The redheaded bitch caressed his arm.  "Poor Kelly!  Never heard of
mellaril?  Why would you?," she reminded herself.  It's what's responsible
for those plump boobs of yours.  But you're right-- that's just a physical
change, gives you feminine characteristics externally.  The real magic is
going on inside your metabolism right now.  Another benefit of having you as
part of our little family is that I get to make up for an error in
judgment."

Her husband tried to dispel criticism, but Lesley overruled him with a
wagging finger.  "Please Rick, don't.  I made a mistake with Brenda.  I'll
admit that.  But with Kelly, I can make up for it." She turned back to Glen.

"For the last two months, every since your untimely "accident," your system
has been saturated with estradiol.  It's a high performance female sex
hormone.  Brenda was induced with the same treatment.  She was given the
exact amount of sex hormones a normal girl her age would have.  Because of
the wonder of biochemistry, I've implanted you, like I did with Brenda, with
a device that will convert your testosterone into estradiol.  However,
instead of giving you the natural level of hormones as we did with Brenda,
you'll produce sex hormones at a rate fifty percent higher than the level
found in natural-born teenage females."

Rick Mason hooked his finger in his belt, grinning wolfishly.  "You see,
even though Brenda's system carries the hormones, since they are only
average level, she hasn't been as, shall we say, stimulated as we'd like her
to be.  When we decided we wanted her to have the characteristics of a young
teenage girl, we forgot that along with curiosity about sex, there would
also be fear and confusion.  Brenda's too prim and proper for our tastes."

"Yes, and once the metabolism has been set, you can't screw around with the
biochemical mix," Lesley the doctor elaborated.  "Brenda behaves just like a
normal fourteen year old girl would- - curious but scared, coy and immature.
Not what we want when it comes time for frolics in the Play Room.  But with
the amount of Estradiol you've been given, we're sure you'll be able to help
us train Brenda the way we want her to behave for us."

He didn't like the sound of this.  "Estradiol?  What will it do to me?" he
asked feebly.  He dreaded that he might guess the answer if not the
specifics.

Mr.  Mason put out his cigarette, letting his wife answer.  He was so
deliberate in all his actions, thought Glen.  As if he knew every objection
I could raise before I said a thing.

The doctor's tongue slipped in and out of her mouth as she explained, as if
savoring word after delicious word.  "It will make you terribly insecure,
very vain, extremely flighty.  Your attention span will be very short and
you'll become bored with anything that requires too much thinking.  You'll
be overly preoccupied with your appearance at all times.  You'll be led by
your emotions, a spoiled brat one minute, a darling angel the next.  You'll
find yourself unable to make decisions for yourself and you'll be draw to
strength, since you'll be so naturally dependent and submissive.  In other
words, you'll exhibit every stereotypical female trait exaggerated by fifty
percent.  And the estradiol will have one more dramatic affect."

"What?  Please tell me!" begged Glen.

She licked her lips before answering.  "You'll be a very, very horny young
lady.  Come on, Rick, let's take Kelly to her new room."
5. Part


Glen was shown to the bedroom by his new 'parents.'  He gloomily looked
around.  It was decorated entirely in pink-- pink plush carpeting; a big
pink double bed, with two fluffy pillows and a smiling oversized teddy bear;
a pink vanity replete with lipsticks, mascaras, perfumes, foundations,
brushes, styling pins and rollers; a pink painted bookshelf filled with
brand new paperbacks, all of them romance novels; a pink skirted nightstand
with a stack of magazines like Cosmopolitan, Teen Beat, Soap Opera Digest,
and a number of catalogs from Talbot's, Laura Ashely, Victoria's Secret and
more; a pink Princess phone; a pink plastic boom box with a preselected
music library of Madonna, Janet Jackson, Whitney Houston, and Wilson Philips
CDs; a pink lamp in the shape of a ballerina; and a single window adorned
with pink curtains.  On the wall were two posters.  One was full of flowers
and flowing feminine script.  It repeated a trite poem about setting love
free and it would come back to you.  Another was a full length poster of
Fabio, the romance novel cover model and teen heartthrob.  The requisite
Barbie doll rested on a bookcase shelf watching over all with her empty and
pleasing smile.  A Minnie Mouse clock clicked away the minutes and hours on
the wall.

"You'll be very happy here, Kelly." Mr.  Mason's -- Daddy's-- hand was on
his bare ass and he hated it.

"And you'll finally be allowed to wear clothes.  Isn't that exciting?  Why
don't you play dress up by yourself and get used to your new home, Kelly.
Your father and I will be down in the Play Room with Brenda." She rubbed her
palm against her thigh.  "She's been a very naughty girl and needs to be
punished." The door was shut, leaving him alone.

He was relieved.  Privacy.  It was the first time he had enjoyed privacy in
two months.  And clothes!  He never realized how much you could miss
clothes!  He opened the dresser.  Naturally-- girls' underwear.  Bras,
panties, thigh high stockings and nighties.  He opened the next drawer.
Tops-- but all in bright or pastel colors.  He opened the bottom drawer--
shorts, exercise outfits and bathing suits.  None of it in the least boy-
like.

He turned and opened the closet.  Inside hung a number of short-skirted
dresses, frocks and miniskirts.  There was even a little black cocktail
dress.  "Is that when I get invited to school dances?" he thought
disgustedly.  On the floor were a number of shoes-- many being three inch
heels of varying fashion colors.  In addition, there were a pair of
open-toed sandals and a pair of pink Reebok running shoes.

He looked out the window, down at the wide luxuriant green lawn and the
hedges that bounded the huge estate.  They couldn't make him put these
clothes on.  And yet he wanted to cover his body.  Reluctantly he returned
to the dresser.  He pulled out a light blue cotton bra and slipped it on.
It gently lifted and separated his 32B breasts, offering some girlish
cleavage above the flowery trimming that decorated the demi-cup.  He hated
the pleasant way it made him feel.  He had to resist.  But as he stepped
into the matching Calvin Klein blue thong panties, he couldn't help the wave
of delight he felt as the snug garment crept between and up his legs.  He
had to remember he was a male, a twenty year old male, not some dopey
sixteen year old kid.  But his resistance crumbled as he slipped on the
white cotton half-blouse that bared his trim, flat tummy, feeling the
tightness over his breasts as he buttoned up.  He picked out the only pair
of jeans in the closet, determined not to wear a skirt, no matter what.

But as he held up the pair of No Excuses jeans, he realized why the calves
had zippers.  The designer jeans were so tight, he had to unzip the calves,
then get on his back and try to jam himself into the legs.  He managed to
get them half in and stood up carefully.  He bounced up and down as he
forced his already small butt into the even tighter jeans.  At last he was
able to get them in and triumphantly zipped the zipper.  With the air of a
natural gesture, his hands found their familiar perch on his hips.  The
mirror showed a sassy, hot to trot sixteen year old with pouty lips and
smoldering blue eyes.  But that wasn't the reality, Glen reminded himself
frantically.  Fishing though the shoes, he slipped on the pink running
shoes.

"Very pretty, Blue Eyes." It was the Masons.  They were back.  But they
weren't alone.  Mr.  Mason yanked a leash and Brenda came tumbling to the
floor behind him.  "See your new big sister, missy?"

Brenda looked up, eyes swollen with tears.  The leash was attached to a pair
of handcuffs and allowed Mr.  Mason to drag the boy-girl behind him.  The
fourteen year old wore only a pair of white bikini panties and a training
bra.  The back of his thighs were red as if from being hit with a flat
object repeatedly.

"Brenda has been a naughty little girl, Kelly.  It seems your sister isn't
as interested as she should be in her housekeeping duties.  Naughty girl!"
Mason screamed at the girl.

Brenda groveled on the floor before the two adults.  "Please!  No more!
Please!  I won't do it again!" She pressed her cheek against Lesley Mason's
high heeled shoe pathetically.

Mrs.  Mason rubbed her shoe across the boy-girls cheek and Brenda obediently
began to lick it.  "This is what happens with only children," she spoke to
her husband.  "They get spoiled like Brenda.  You know, I think having a big
sister like Kelly around will do wonders for teaching Brenda how to act like
a proper young lady."

Mr.  Mason concurred.  "Kelly, you may do whatever girls do when they are
alone.  Your mother and I need to continue with Brenda's discipline-- in our
bedroom."

Brenda looked up.  Kelly noticed the boy-girl shaking as he struggled to his
feet.  The door was shut and Glen was left only to wonder about the many
shocking shouts and cries he heard from the bedroom in the following hours.

                      *****************************

Rick Mason heard the door shut first.  "The girls are home, Darling.  It's
Homework Time"

Lesley Mason looked up.  She had been reading a medical journal article,
which she carefully bookmarked and closed.  Languidly she rose to follow her
husband, who was already downstairs ordering the girls to come to the Play
Room.

She walked in to find them standing, heads down, for their next instruction.
The Play Room was her idea.  As a creator and shaper by training, she had
put much of her imagination in it's design.  The immediate impression was
dungeon-like.  She preferred the dark, Gothic stony look, with the fireplace
for her and her husband's love games.  It put everyone involved in the
proper frame of mind.  Two sets of manacles hung from the ceiling, which
were easily controlled by a simple winch.  A stockade and sawhorse sat ready
for use on the side of the dark, barely-lit room.  Whips, crops, and canes
of all sizes and thickness waited on wall brackets for hard hands to wield
them.  A cage waited for an insolent prisoner in the other corner.  Lesley's
favorite prop was a device they had bought commercially-- a kind of
saddle-seat mount from which protruded a detachable dildo.  Oh she loved
that toy!

Rick lit the fireplace and brought it to a roar with the bellows.  "Strip
down, sluts.  You first Brenda."

The little brunette looked down and though shivering with fright, kicked off
her heels.  Unsteadily, he pulled off his ribbed pink tank top, exposing his
cotton bra.  At fourteen and a half, Brenda had just been allowed to
graduate from a training bra to the real thing, even though his breasts
hadn't grown, nor would they ever grow any bigger.  Gingerly he unzipped his
denim miniskirt.  Wriggling out of it, he waited in only his pink cotton
softcup bra with it's thin straps and the matching pink cotton bikini
panties.

"Now Kelly."

With a saucy smile, the sixteen and a half year old kicked off his red high
heels and pulled off his midriff t-shirt.  It was tight and read "Boy Toy"
on the front and back.  Underneath, his healthy pert bust was supported by a
red lace half-bra, which he thrust out proudly.  Kelly loved his breasts,
the way the boys and male teachers at school looked at them, the way he
could make them jiggle to get attention.  Sinuously, he pulled down her neon
green spandex bike shorts to reveal the red lace thong panty.  It had been a
gift from Daddy for being such a good girl in helping to slut-train his
little sister Brenda.  He loved them-- they made him feel like such a
pampered princess!

Months ago, Kelly had hated to wear the revealing, provocative clothing he
wore now.  He had made up his mind to resist the temptations of the feminine
trap he was in.  He was a male, a twenty year old man.  Panties and bras
couldn't change that and he wouldn't accept them as natural.  But slowly his
feelings changed.  Not that he liked what had happened to him-- he missed
the freedom being a man had given him.  Everything feminine was such a
prison-- tight clothes, high heels, mandatory make-up, everything.  And the
dull hot throb that emanated from the chastity belt reminded him constantly
that he had born a male.  It was so frustrating never to be able to scratch
the itch below, the itch that was a curse because the things that his
adoptive parents did to him always kept it burning.

But his attitude had changed.  It wasn't the result of the punishments he
earned from time to time.  It wasn't the training either.  It was from
inside.  It was the creep in his spine that rose when he realized he was
becoming very good at dressing up, the silent scream from knowing he blushed
when Daddy complimented him, the anguish that raged impotently when he began
to pick and choose from his growing lingerie collection and get turned on,
even against his will.

And then his escape plans began to dissolve in gauzy daydreams.  His
instincts told him if he could talk to the right people, have them check his
fingerprints or dental records, then...  But a day would pass and these
thoughts would be lost.  And in trying to rediscover them, he found that
thinking was just too hard, too exhausting, too frustrating.  Instead of
taking firm shapes, his thoughts grew fuzzy and vague, like strands of
cotton candy that dissolved at the merest touch.  He gave up thoughts of
escape in favor of less complicated, simpler things like his romance novels
and soap operas, what to wear and what color to paint his nails.

Then school had started.  It was strange being a student in the same school
he had once been a faculty member of.  Not that he any longer remembered the
skills or education he had once had.  Today Kelly was no more able to be a
guidance counselor than he was a rocket scientist!  Luckily, he wasn't
encumbered with college prep courses.  Like Brenda, his parents had enrolled
him in general overview courses that wouldn't tax his mental abilities.  The
only courses he had to worry about grades in were Home Economics and Gym
class.  Home Ec was important because he was responsible for household
cooking and cleaning, with Brenda as his helper.  Gym was important because
it kept him in shape, though aerobics at home were also expected.

School itself was a nervous blur for Brenda.  The young boy- girl was jumpy
and still unable to handle the attention his ripening feminine body and
teasing clothes attracted from boys.  But for Kelly, being a pretty high
school sophomore was wonderful.  In the clothes he wore now and the nubile
body he sported, he did indeed resemble the Kelly Taylor character from the
Beverly Hills 90210 series.  Sweet, tarty thoughts crossed his mind as he
swung his hips in the tiny red miniskirt for the boys behind him.  He began
to find power over boys in the smallest ways-- by bending over to reveal
some pink cleavage, to toy with a stray bra strap, to giggle cutely at their
silly jokes, to intently listen, eyeing them dreamily as they spoke to him.

He wasn't permitted a boyfriend by his parents.  Kelly was reserved for
their use alone.  Whenever he was asked out on a date, Kelly had learned to
answer that there was a boyfriend who was in the Marines, so, gosh no it
wouldn't be possible for Kelly to cheat on him, would it?  But if Kelly
wasn't already involved, and if the mysterious Marine ever dumped Kelly,
could she take a raincheck and call the boy up?  This strategy of assuaging
each boy's ego kept them from thinking the pretty blonde was "stuck up."

He was allowed to flirt, though, and flirt he did, with the boys he was
beginning to think of more and more as cute and handsome.  Instead of paying
attention to the teacher, Kelly would silently choose a boy in a classroom
and begin to tease him, allowing the lucky boy quick peeks of the bright
polyester or lace panties he wore as he slowly crossed his legs under the
desk.  Such behavior earned him the reputation of a slut, which he both
resented and accepted.  Kelly was Kelly-- he couldn't help what he had been
turned into.
6. Part


Daddy sat in the big arm chair as Mother took over the Home Work lesson.
She had stripped down to her lingerie-- a black lace bra, black panties and
high heels.  Her pale skin and her red hair made her a most striking woman.
"Well, my pretties, let's begin your lesson today where we left off last
night.  Brenda, down on your knees.  Now Kelly, you too-- but face your
little sister."

The two boy-girls waited, eyes still downcast.  Kelly generally didn't mind
these sessions, except the painful parts of course, but Brenda did not.  He
was still too much of a prudish little girl for.  It was one of the reasons
he had to help slut-train Brenda for their parents.  Kelly was the perfect
slut, Daddy said.

"Now, Kelly, lean forward and kiss Brenda.  Show her how to French kiss.  Go
on-- get to it!" Mother had chosen a riding crop from the arsenal of
disciplinary implements and waved it threateningly.

Everyday after school there was a predetermined Homework Lesson.
Instruction was always held in the Play Room by Daddy and Mother.  Sometimes
others came to watch too, men and women who drank wine and watched.
Monday's Homework Lessons always started with French kissing and foreplay.
Tuesday was for breast and nipple play, Wednesday was dedicated to
striptease practice, Thursday oral and body worship, and Friday was for
sextoy lessons, and the weekend was whatever Daddy and Mother decided.
Fridays made Kelly nervous.  Mother and Daddy had such a varied dildo
collection and some hurt so much.  But today was French kissing and Kelly
liked French kissing a lot.

Kelly obeyed Mother's instruction, letting his tongue sink deep into the
fourteen year old's soft mouth.  He rolled it around, exploring it even as
Brenda's own tongue shyly retreated before its onslaught.

SWAT! "Brenda!  Show Big Sister you love her back!  Go on!  This is how you
learn!"

Brenda obeyed, and the two were soon in a passionate lesbian tongue lock.
Lesley looked up.  Rick had pulled off his shirt and was unzipping his
pants.  She watched the boy-girls as they hungrily sought each other's
mouths for a good twenty minutes.  Then she ordered them to stop.

Pettishly Kelly withdrew his tongue from Brenda's mouth.  The younger teen's
small mouth closed in an instant.

"Now Kelly I want you to instruct Brenda how to make out with a boy.
Pretend you're a boy on a date with Brenda.  Brenda, you're a little slut
for your man, so don't resist, Kelly, as the boy, you know that Brenda is
easy, so you can take second base.  Got it?"

Kelly licked his lips and nodded.

"Go on, then."

Kelly wrapped his arms around Brenda and the brassiered chests of the two
sissified boys touched electrically.  "Bren, honey, stick your titties out--
boys like that!  Isn't that right Mother?"

Lesley patted his long blonde hair.  "You're slut reading is going well, I
can tell."

Kelly's full lips were curled into a tight, smug smile.  At first, he hadn't
liked his slut reading.  Mother had made such an embarrassing deal over
it--marking the articles in Cosmo and New Woman for him to read.  They were
all sex advice articles on how to make your man feel good in bed, ways to
flirt and dress provocatively.  He hadn't paid much attention and found them
disgusting.  But after a few "pop quizzes" and some smarting spankings,
Kelly got the hint.  He began to devour the articles.  Then came the
subscription to Playgirl that now came regularly in her name.  He was
allowed to read it by himself, but Mother's questions made it clear he was
expected to absorb the contents of every issue completely, condom ads
included.  He now kept the stack of dog-eared Playgirls by his nightstand.
Recently, Daddy had taken Kelly on lap and had him read letters from
Penthouse aloud for he and Mother, especially the letters from female
writers.  It always got Daddy in a very, very good mood when Kelly did this
well.

"Go on, Kelly.," Mother snapped.  "Brenda, follow your sister's advice--
she' s only trying to help you be a better slut."

Brenda stuck his tiny chest out.  Kelly's small hands unwrapped themselves
and cupped the small offering, squeezing the nipples.  "Moan whenever I
touch you Brenda-- that way a boy knows you like what he's doing!" Kelly had
read this in a number of times in the Advice Column in Playgirl.

Brenda began to moan softly as Kelly unhooked the juvenile bra.  Closing his
eyes, he began to buck against his Big Sis as Kelly took hold of the flesh
buds.  "Is that right Kelly?  Last time you said boys like this."

Kelly gave him a full kiss on the lips.  "Yes, Little Sister, that's good,
very good."

Lesley grinned at Rick.  "Our daughters are a couple of lezzies, dear.  What
do you think?"

Rick stood up abruptly.  "Get the bitches on their fours," he ordered.

Kelly and Brenda paused.  Kelly put on a counterfeit smile.  "Oh, do me
Daddy!  Please, pretty please!?!  Do me-- you said I'm your favorite slut!"
He hunched down on his elbows and offered his panty-thonged backside up for
anal rape.

But Daddy crooked his finger at Brenda.  "Come here you little slut and get
me wet."

Kelly turned around.  "Please Daddy!  Last time you really hurt her!
Please- I like it and she doesn't!  Do me!" But all he got was a vicious
slap from Lesley.

"I'll do you pretty baby-- don't worry.  Your hole will get filled.  Now get
back down on your fours facing Brenda."

"Brenda, you're gong to be Daddy's little cocksucker, aren't you?  You
little bitch-- you know how much you love the taste of my cum!  And if you
so much as let your braces scratch my cock-- even a little-- you'll get a
beating you won't forget!" With that warning, Rick jammed his cock down the
fourteen year old's throat, cruelly filling the tight orifice.  Using his
ponytail as a ripcord, he pulled the young teen up and down to ensure equal
devotion to the entire length of his shaft.  Finally he pulled the ponytail
down, freeing Brenda's mouth with a pop.  The redfaced teen looked up in
terror.

"Please Daddy!  It hurts!  It hurts so much!" As he begged, he clutched her
breasts, crossing his legs desperately.

Without answering, he took the ponytail again and yanked his face down to
the floor.  "Stick your ass up in the air like a good girl or I'll whip it
off of you!"

A whimper, then the pink bikini'ed butt was pulled up and raised for Mason's
cruel usage.  Kelly looked at his slave sister in submission , waiting for
his own use.  Behind him, he felt Mother's hands commanding his own hips to
raise.  Then the nails scraping around the red lace thong, yanking it down.
Then the cold tip of the thick plastic strap-on phallus against his anal
rosebud.  No lubricant, no gentleness, just a mighty heave and Kelly was
filled with the missile.  He looked at his poor little sister.  Brenda had
dissolved into tears as Daddy rammed the helpless rag doll of a boy-girl
from behind.  He could see the eyes open wide in fear and agony then close
as he pulled back, then repeated their opening.

"Let the lezzies love one another, Lesley!" Daddy commanded.  Kelly could
feel his hips being reamed and driven forward toward Brenda, his companion
in rape.  Their faces were forced forward, nose to nose.

"Go on-- make out, girlies!  Make kissy face for us!  Kelly, tell your
little sister how to be a good piece of ass for Daddy!" Daddy ordered.

Kelly nudged his tongue in Brenda's mouth.  Brenda limply responded when
Daddy landed a hard slap on his bare thigh.

"Bren, Daddy likes it when you buck your hips back in rhythm to his.  Go on,
do it!"

The fourteen year old looked at his slave sister in misery.  "Kel, it hurts
so much!  It hurts me soooo much!"

"Just do it, Brenda!  Sluts like us buck our hips to our lovers' rhythm.
Come on, I know you can do it!"

And Brenda gasped, and obeyed.  Slowly he was picking up the rhythm of his
adoptive father's rape and responding to it.  Daddy grunted in approval.  He
pushed Brenda forward again, satisfied.  Even as the two were being brutally
taken from behind, they made soft lesbian kissing love, older boy-sister to
younger boy-sister, teens in gentle heat.  Kelly knew Daddy had shot his hot
jism into Brenda as he gasped for breath and surged forward.  Mother always
took longer.  Kelly threw his hips into overdrive, rocking back and forth
like a pro.  Mother responded by stepping up her thrusts till she had
overtaken Kelly.  Then like a rider breaking in a mount, she slowly finished
off, pulling out of an exhausted Kelly.

"Clean me off girlie," Mother ordered.  Kelly scrambled to his knees and
took the gooey long black plastic cock, deepthroating it.  He wrapped her
lips tightly against the side.  Dildos and strap-ons had to be cleaned
flawlessly and there had been many lessons in doing it.  Kelly was good-- a
natural cocksucker, Daddy called him, but Brenda was still learning.

"Owww!  Stupid little slut!" Kelly looked over.  Brenda had been put to the
same task as he had, but his little sister had made some mistake.  Mother
yanked Kelly's blonde mane like a leash to his own cocksucking duties.

"Damn bitch!  You got my hair caught in your braces!  Arghhh!" Daddy
backhanded Brenda, wrenching his metal mouth free from his cock.  He looked
up, quivering.

"I'm sorry Daddy!" he yelped, but it was too late.  He hauled the fourteen
year old up by his hands and locked his wrists in the manacles.  Slowly he
raised the winch up, lifting the teen onto his tiptoes.  With relish, he
picked out a paddle, testing it against his palm.
7. Part


"I'll teach you to be so careless, Brenda!" He swung the paddle back and
landed it squarely on his cupcake asscheeks.  Brenda screamed but the
soundproofed walls retained the music of his agony within the room.  Again
and again the paddle fell.

Kelly could feel his mistress'es interest switch to the helpless boy-girl's
punishment.  He continued to lap the plastic dildo clean, hoping to avoid
displeasing Mother the way Brenda had displeased Daddy.  His chin was
cupped.  Mother unbuckled the strap-on.

"I want to watch Brenda get what's coming to her.  Come with me-- on your
fours, bitch!" Mother walked to the arm chair Daddy had been sitting in
earlier.  Kelly followed her, a kitten following its mistress.  She sat
down, spreading her legs.  With easy finesse, she hooked her thumb in the
band of her black panty and pulled the dainty thing off.  Beneath, her
bright-red haired cleft was wet and sparkling.

"Pleasure me, Blue Eyes.  Pleasure me well.  Or you'll get what Brenda is
getting." She spread her thighs wide open and reclined with a dry smile.

Kelly carefully nuzzled his face to the older woman's sex and began to lick
the furry edgings of Mrs.  Mason's pussy.  He had been trained how to do
this and knew precisely where and how long to lick.  As Brenda whined for
mercy from Daddy, he reminded himself that he must teach Brenda how to be a
cuntlapper.  It would be an important slut skill for his lil sis to know!
Mother stroked his hair now almost appreciatively and he renewed his oral
worship, happy to keep the woman happy.  After a good thirty minutes,
throughout which she filled Kelly's mouth twice with her stickiness, Dr.
Lesley Mason pushed the pretty blonde away.  She looked for something on the
floor, found it and picked it up with toes.  It was her discarded black lace
panties.

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