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Subject: Under Control part sixteen of twenty eight
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Under Control - part sixteen of twenty eight
by mailto: VictorBruno@mschristine.com

this story remains copyright Victor Bruno, release to publish
granted to Christine Stevenson.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

Then minutes later, refreshed by a shower, Delia was all brisk
efficiency again. One could scarcely have realised the incident
had occurred at all. Whilst for Paul it had been an unforgettable
experience, he realised for Delia it had been a momentary frolic.
That was bitter to bear.

"Of course we won't say anything about it, will we slave?" smiled
Delia flexing an unpleasantly thick rod menacingly.

"No . . . n-no . . . never, mistress . . . ." promised Paul.

"Because I do not think Miss van Meer would much approve. She
might decide to cut 'it' off after all!"

She was right, he reflected. "I swear, mistress . . . ." he said,
most earnestly.

"Good . . . good," nodded Delia. "For you, I mean. Because since
you are going to remain in my immediate charge for some time yet,
you would very much regret any indiscretion." The cane whistled
shrilly through the air. "Never forget that how many you get, and
how hard depends very much on we overseers. On me!" She smiled
roguishly. "Understood?"

"Yes, mistress . . ." Paul understood only too well!

Delia now went to work on him again. First she massaged his whole
body with oil explaining, rather as if she were a nurse, that
this would be done regularly to him to help keep his flesh more
soft and womanly. Then came his first injection of female
hormones. Another regular event to come. "You realise we intend
to make you as near female-looking as possible, don't you, slave
.. . . even if not female-feeling! In fact preferably not female
feeling! Why . . . soon you'll have your own tits . . . with
these hormones working away!"

Paul shuddered. He almost felt like weeping. The fate devised for
him seemed almost intolerably cruel. A man imprisoned in a
woman's body. Yes . . . it was crueller than being made an actual
eunuch. Much as he knew he would hate to face that.

"Meanwhile," continued Delia, "we're going to give you a false
pair of tits. They're very good, too. Take a look . . ."

Paul looked and was amazed. They were a pair of breasts seemingly
made of real flesh . . . even though they must have been of some
special latex or plastic filled with foam rubber. The tint of
them even matched his own skin. How long had Gloria planned this?

The breasts, high, firm and round, were fastened on to a kind of
sheet of skin which Delia placed over and around his chest. It
adhered automatically, merging in with the natural skin. "There .
.. ." said Delia, looking down with amused satisfaction, "isn't
that just great?" She tweaked the pink-pert nipples. "Pity you
can't feel that," she said.

Looking along his chest from his prone position, Paul saw the
twin hillocks and the cleft between. The realism of them was
amazing. Oh my God, he whimpered inwardly, it's really happening!

"I wouldn't ever try to remove them," Delia warned, "the adhesive
penetrates the pores and hair follicles. Without the special
solvent I'm not sure how much of your chest and sides would
remain!"

Next came the affixing of the cruel device to emasculate him.
Paul's penis having firstly been pressed down between his balls
and under him. The 'thing' was shown to him; A kind of oval
plastic, 'cricketer's box,' but with a slit underneath it. This
too fastened on by means of the adhesive. Paul shuddered as he
felt the cool substance on the skin of both penis and balls. The
plastic skin surrounding the box adhering to the tender flesh
above and behind. What, in effect was achieved, was a rather
prominent mound of Venus, such as quite a number of Junoesque
women possess.

"Your 'tits' will come off when your own start to develop. But
since there'll never be any need to take that off I've used extra
adhesive," assured a smiling Delia, "but you'll now have to sit
down on the lavatory just like we real girls do!"

Paul felt something like panic as well as despair gripping him.
The whole of his manhood was confined and crushed immutably. He
had been rendered useless. Utterly impotent. Little wonder that
tears began to mist his eyes.

"It might be painful if you ever get excited," Delia continued.
Paul groaned in despair. My God how was he to avoid excitement
surrounded as he was to be by so much girl flesh. And what would
those girls think of that 'box' between his legs. He was neither
man nor woman!

But Delia had not quite finished. She now affixed over the mound
another piece of skin-plastic . . . this having lips which fitted
around the slit of the 'box' underneath. "I hope none of the men
here take a fancy to you," she laughed, "or they'll get a bit of
a shock. No way in there, I'm afraid."

The main process of Paul's transformation had now been completed
.. . . but there were many fine details yet to be attended to.
Delia was only too happy to oblige. Having had the last of his
manhood it was strangely satisfying to complete his
transformation. She plucked his eyebrows, put false eyelashes on
him, made up his face carefully and finally put a wig of soft
brown hair over his shaven head. The hair was shoulder length. As
a final touch she painted Paul's finger and toe nails a bright
crimson.

"We won't be calling you Paul any more now," said Delia as, at
long last, she released him from the bench on which he had been
spreadeagled helpless. "It will have to be Pauline from now on.
Take a look . . ."

Paul sat up stiffly. He was trembling with dread at what he must
see. There, ahead of him in the wall mirror, was himself . . .
yet not himself! Only dimly could he recognise something of the
line of his features; make-up, wig, eyebrows, and so on had
transformed him. If not exactly beautiful there was no doubt that
the body he now saw had a femininity; was almost sexy, possibly
even attractive. It was unbelievable. Uncanny. Frightening.

"Take a closer look . . ." urged Delia.

He swung off the bench, feeling the bounce of his false breasts,
and moved unsteadily to the mirror. Yes . . . he really was a
woman! Long hair, facial features, breasts, everything. With a
moan Paul buried his face in his hands. Within moments he was
sobbing openly. Never, never, had he felt such utter despair.

"Come, come, Pauline," said Delia, giving him a half-playful slap
on the bottom, "those hormones can't be working all that fast,
can they? We are not reduced to girlish tears so quickly, are
we?"

Paul went on sobbing . . . until Delia brought him up sharply
with three slashing cuts of the rod across his tender behind.
"Now you'll need to repair the make-up" she rasped. "And, this
time you'll do it yourself. After all, you've got to get used to
it. Sit there . . ."

Delia indicated to a dressing table. Paul sat and gazed in
bewilderment at this unknown creature. Slowly he began to undo
the unfamiliar jars of cream, rouge and lipstick. From now on,
this is your life, he told himself. Perhaps, he thought
pathetically as the lipstick coloured his lips deeper, when the
hormones really begin to work it will be better. Then, possibly,
whatever he looked like, he would feel more like a woman and less
like a man.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 


This story is being released as an illustrated web book, for
autoresponder details of Victor Bruno Books available please
contact

VictorBruno@MsChristine.com
http://www.mschristine.com/bruno.html

sincerely, Christine
The Fem Dom Training Software. Runs on all computers (Macs too!) 
Advises on how best to train your husband/lover. 
http://www.mschristine.com/program.html 
mailto:program@Ms-Christine.com



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