____________________________ | | /)| KRISTEN'S BOOKSHELF |(\ / )| DIRECTORIES |( \ __( (|____________________________|) )__ ((( \ \ > /_) ( \ < / / ))) (\\\ \ \_/ / \ \_/ / ///) \ / \ / \ _/ \_ / / / \ \ o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o The 'Bookshelf collection' offers a very wide variety of o o stories. They have been submitted by people from all over the o o world. Also from alt.sex.stories (Newsgroups). There is no o o particular order other than offering them to you in alpha- o o betical directories. o o I don’t believe in categorizing things. "I don’t want to o o be typed therefore I don’t type things myself." I think it’s o o a lot more fun to browse around and find 'little' surprises o o that you might not have even thought of looking for. o o Lest we forget!!! This story was produced as adult en- o o tertainment and should not be read by minors. Kristen o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o On Becoming Gretchen - 2 (tg) by Amelia Allbyte * Chapter Two "That's your side of it. But I'm not so sure that they'll believe your story after I tell them my story, especially with this sort of thing going on." She dropped a newspaper in front of me. Craning my neck, I managed to read the headlines and the first few lines of the lead story. "RAPIST STRIKES AGAIN," it read. "For the third time this month, a rapist attacked a woman in an isolated home. The police are baffled, but believe it to be the work of an itinerant worker who has holed up somewhere since the rapes were always in conjunction with a robbery." It went on in the same general tone. There was even a description given by one of the victims. Uncomfortably, I noted that it fit me quite accurately. "Now," said the woman, "what do you think they'll do when I turn you in?" I knew what they'd do and the outcome wasn't very pretty to contemplate. I may eventually convince them that I wasn't guilty, maybe even produce an alibi (my old landlord?), but during the time they spent checking it out, I'd be in for a rough time, and it would probably be for a long time. "If I agree to do this, you won't turn me in?" "That's right. You do as I ask and no cops." "OK., you got a deal," I gave in. "I'm glad to see you're reasonable. I can just imagine how the police would question you," she responded. Then she added, "Now that we have come to an understanding, the first thing that we're going to have to do is to get rid of that ugly hair on your body, arms, and legs. Since it's rather late and you need a bath anyway, we'll just go ahead and do it tonight. We'll start your other lessons in the morning." "Remove my body hair? Other lessons tomorrow? What the hell is this? I don't need all that junk just to serve a few plates." "You just agreed to do as I asked and already you're trying to get out of it. You will either do it my way, or I'll call the cops. Now which do you want?" "Alright, you win. I guess I can take anything for a day or so." Once I agreed, she yanked the skin off me and released the leg irons. "OK., young man, let's get going." By now I was warm and dry and despite the humiliating method, well fed. I struggled to my feet. "I agreed to your terms. You can take these things off my wrists now." "You agreed verbally. I don't know what's going on in your mind. What you are going to be doing can be done just as well with those things still attached. Now, move on." I headed back to the bedroom where the bath was located, my female guardian following, occasionally prodding me. I noticed that she was no longer carrying the gun. We reached the bathroom and she began applying a lotion to my body. Starting at my forehead and working her way down to my toes, she covered every inch of me. It was kind of titillating, especially when she got to my groin where she liberally applied the lotion to my cock and balls. I began responding to the handling. In other words, I was beginning to get a hardon. The woman stopped, reached for long-handled bath brush, and slapped down my erect member. It hurt! My eyes watered and all thoughts of arousal were gone. I went completely limp. She acted as if nothing unusual had happened, as though she whacked erect cocks every day. She went on with her task. In a few more minutes I was completely covered with the gooey stuff. "Just stand there awhile and let that lotion do its work. I'll be back when it's time to remove it." She went out, closing the door behind her, leaving me standing there. With no clothes and my wrists locked behind me, I wasn't going anywhere. Besides, I heard the lock click after she left. Apparently the door could be locked from the outside. With nothing else to do, I stood there - and stood there. Meanwhile, the lotion was beginning to work and my skin was beginning to feel itchy. So I stood and waited some more. Finally, when I felt I couldn't stand any longer and my body felt like one big rash, the lock clicked and the woman entered. She looked me over rather critically, ran a fingernail lightly down my leg, examined it, and nodded in satisfaction to herself. She started the shower, motioned for me to enter, and I did. When I got fully wet, she started rubbing me down with the bath brush. It was scratchy and uncomfortable. What was worse, I could see all of my hair coming off with the brush. Now, I didn't think I was exceptionally hairy, but I could see gobs of hair coming off and going down the drain. Even my pubic hair was going and the woman seemed to take a perverse delight in giving that area a good scrubbing. Satisfied that the hair was all removed, she motioned me out of the shower and began rubbing me down with a big fluffy towel, and then began applying a soft soothing lotion to my now hairless body. The feeling was amazing. My denuded skin seemed so much more sensitive and delicate. I was suddenly aware of every waft of air, of minute changes in temperature as she led me from the bath into the bedroom. "You look much more presentable now," she said after examining me to make sure I was completely hairless. "Oh, one other thing. I want you to know that the lotion has a hair growth inhibitor in it. Your face should stay smooth for two or three days; the rest of your body for at least a week." "You need a name. You're fairly light complexioned and blonde. 'Gretchen' seems rather appropriate. Hello, Gretchen. You can call me Miss Irene. Just always remember the respectful Miss." "My name is --" She slapped my face, hard. Then she put her hand over my mouth. "Gretchen, I don't give a damn about what it used to be or even what you did. As far as you and I are concerned, you have just been born. Do you understand?" "Yes, Miss Irene." "It's kind of late," she said. I looked at the clock. It was well after eleven and I realized that I was quite worn out. "Tomorrow we'll start training you so that you may be a passable maid. You may as well start getting used to feminine clothing tonight. I'll get you a pair of panties and a bra. We'll pad it out, and of course you will need a nightgown." She came over and removed the handcuffs. "I guess it's all right to remove these now. Besides, it would be difficult to dress you while you're wearing them." She started over toward the bureau to get the clothes. I figured it was now or never. I had been forced to agree to her terms under duress, which as far as I was concerned carried no validity. I'd just beat the hell out of her, find some clothes and get the hell out of there. I had no desire to be her maid, and as far as I knew, she would still turn me in at the first opportunity anyway. Without another moment's hesitation I jumped her with the full intention of overpowering her and leaving her manacled with her own handcuffs. Now, the idea may have been pretty good, but the execution left something to be desired. As I started to jump she turned and grabbed me by the writs and using my own momentum, slammed me to the floor. I staggered to my feet and before I knew what had happened, she grabbed me by my other wrist and slammed me against the wall. Then she lowered my head and butted me right in the gut. I doubled over and she rabbit-punched me on the back of my neck and my little revolt was quelled. I was licked. "I can let you up and we can go at it again just to prove it was no accident," she said in a conversational tone, stepping back to give me an opportunity to rise. I clambered to my feet, still a bit shaky. "Uh, no, thanks." I didn't need or want any more proof. She was quicker, more agile, and better trained than I was. At the moment, it would not have surprised me to discover that she was stronger than I. The one grab that I did make at her felt like I was grabbing a steel cable. "So where's the damn clothes," I muttered. As I was getting up, she was getting the clothes and tossing them onto the bed. I had no trouble pulling the sleek lace panties up into place about my waist, at least as far as slipping them on. But the sensation was quite another matter. That smooth nylon about my hips and the lace-trimmed elastic around my waist and legs gave me an exotic high you wouldn't believe. The feeling was intensified because of the increased skin sensitivity due to the hair removal. I could feel an erection coming on - fast. Miss Irene saw the sudden bulging at my crotch and wasn't amused. "You will get aroused and have an erection only when I permit it. Cease immediately." Well, that was like telling the tide to quit coming in. There wasn't a thing I could do about it. My captor could do something, and did. She went back into the bathroom and returned with the long-handled bath brush. She positioned herself and held the bath brush like a baseball bat, and - whack! That was all I needed. I subsided immediately. "You may not believe it now, but that thing will become quite obedient," she said nonchalantly, returning the brush to its proper place. I didn't believe her. After all, that thing had a mind of its own and would occasionally pick some of the most embarrassing times to decide to get hard. Besides, wasn't she going to release me in a few days, after I acted as a maid for her little party? Or was she? After we went through the little fracas she then brought over the bra and helped me put it on, and then inserted the pads. Here again, although the sensation wasn't quite as erotic as my panties, it sure wasn't unpleasant. The tightness of the elastic about my chest, the pull of the straps over my shoulders and the weight of the inserts seemed very pleasant, and in an odd way rather natural. "You will look much better with adhered pads, or even better, implants until you grow your own, but for now these will have to do," she commented after viewing the completed task. "That sounds like you want this to be permanent. I thought you said you would let me go if I acted as your maid." "I said I would not turn you over to the police," she retorted. "How long I keep you depends on how you cooperate." As she was saying this, she was handing me a peach-colored waltz-length nylon nightgown with a gauzy overlay of lace. It had short puffy sleeves, ending just below the shoulders. The neck was modestly scooped and ornamented with frilly lace, the same as the cuffs and hem. Once again, the sensation of the dainty nylon and the frilly lace on my denuded and sensitive body was more to be felt than described. But this time there was no erection, or at least none that caused a noticeable bulge in my satiny panties. I was learning. "Time for beddie-bye, Gretchen," she said. "Do you need to use the bathroom before you retire? You know where it is." I nodded and headed for it. I started to close the door when she stopped me. "We're two girls together. We don't keep secrets from each other. And remember, we girls sit down to pee." I took the hint and sat. Oh, well, I thought philosophically, at least I don't have to worry about my aim. "And now to bed. You will soon learn that your sexual activity will be under my direction. Therefore, to prevent you from playing with yourself during the night, you must wear these 'chastity irons'. The chastity irons consisted of a collar locked about the neck, and a pair of manacles attached to it by about 18 inches of chain. This device very effectively prevented my hands from going any lower than my chest. She led me into another bedroom. At first I thought the bed within it was a hospital bed with side rails, but then I realized it was built more like an oversized crib with high side rails. I looked about, finding the bedroom unusually furnished. One side of the room was decorated just like a nursery. There were big murals of barnyard animals on the wall. There was a cabinet that was stacked high with diapers and all sorts of baby powders and lotions. Along the floor there were baby toys and other baby things. The other side of the room was a picture of femininity. There was a dressing table with all sorts of cosmetics and various lotions and powders. There was a dresser with some sort of jewelry box, a pair of pink-shaded table lamps, and other dainty feminine decorations. I really didn't get a good opportunity to investigate all of the furnishings. Miss Irene motioned toward the bed and I crawled in. She raised the side, and then reached over and lifted up a top cover, which she locked down in place. The crib was nothing but a cage! "I feel so much better knowing that you can't walk in your sleep and possibly injure yourself. Now, go to sleep. We have a big day tomorrow." Leaving a little ducky night light burning, she closed the door, leaving me alone in my cage with a little furry bear I found laying on the pillow.