The  Circus

                                                                  by  She-Devil


I give you a circus story.

It was better than most hospital rooms:  bigger, better- equipped,
comfortably furnished, and conscientiously attended by a trained staff.  But
at this moment it wasn't much better than the Drunk Tank at the City Jail,
thanks to the hordes of screaming relatives that clustered around the bed
where my Uncle Hubert lay, taking his own good time about dying.

"You can't do that!  moaned Aunt Mary.

"It's a disgrace!" groaned Cousin Charles.

"We'll be ruined socially!" wailed a blue-haired old lady who relationship to
me I never was sure of.

"None-the-less," the strong tones of Uncle Hubert's voice silenced them all,
even from his death bed.  "It's what I want and it's what I'm going to do!"

"But you can't!" Aunt Mary repeated.  "You just can't leave all your money to
a bastard child you've never even seen ...  the daughter of-of a common
performer -- or worse!"

"I can and I will," Uncle Hubert's voice grated more firmer than ever.  "The
lawyers have already rewritten my will, and all I have to do know is find the
child...  And by damn, I'm going to!  Now get out of here, all of you --
except you Martin -- Go on, get out!"

The others were herded from the room by a nurse who looked like a
pro-football linebacker and I was left alone with my Uncle Hubert.

"Any progress?" He asked eagerly.

"Some," I said, watching his old eyes light up.  "The detectives have been
following up every lead you've given us, and it seems they might be on to
something.  They're checking out rumors about a girl working in a circus or
something somewhere out west.  They say it looks really hopeful, and if it
turns out good they should have some news in a few weeks."

"Good!" The old man knew he could hold out that long easily.  "You know,
Martin, it's funny; I never thought much of you.  Guess some of your ideas
were a little too far out for an old man like me.  But now it seems that
you're the only one I can trust to do this.  Maybe it's because I never tried
to buy your love like I did all those others," he cast a disparaging glance
at the hallway full of greedy relatives.  "Anyway, I want you to know I
appreciate it and, if it works out, if you find the child, you'll be well
taken care of!"

"Sure, Uncle Hubert," I smiled, rising.  "But the main thing now is for you
to rest.  I may not be back for a few weeks, but when I do return, it'll be
with good news!"

Out in the hallway, the others ignored me as I left.  Except for my cousin
Roderick, that is; I heard his mincing footsteps growing louder in the
hallway as he hurried to catch up with me.

"Well," he trilled, touching my sleeve softly.  "How's the pet nephew today?"

"Still poor, but happy," I smiled, hiding the distaste I've always felt for
Roderick as best I could.  For years I used to tell myself that I was
unfairly prejudiced against Roderick because he's gay and I'm not.  But
recently I had come to realize that my dislike of the man had nothing to do
with his sexual preferences; he was just a little twerp, that's all.  And a
very irritating one at that.

"And how are things with the upper classes?" I continued.

"Oh, you know that crowd," he wrinkled his nose at my reference to our mutual
relations.  "Always worried about losing an odd hundred million or so.  But
just what have you and Uncle Hubert been plotting, anyway?"

That was the one thing I liked about Roderick:  you could see through him
like air.  Clever he might be, but subtle?  Never!

"Nothing very important," I lied, "but why should you care?  You were never
in the will for very much anyway -- not that you needed it -- and I know you
don't lose any sleep over the welfare of us paupers."

We smiled at the half-truth of my remark.  By conventional standards, I'm not
a pauper at all, with a trust fund that nets me a few hundred grand a year
after taxes.  But in our family, that strictly a poor relation.

"Oh, you must know I've always liked you Martin," Roderick lied right back.
"But I must say that whatever it is you've been doing lately has changed you
somehow.  I can't quite place it, but your just a little ...  different!
Your clothes don't seem to fit you anymore, your voice seems higher, your
skin paler, and ...  you walk funny.  You almost remind me of an old
boyfriend of mine.  Did I ever tell you about the fellow who was into
dresses?"

I felt myself reddening at his remarks, wondering if he had really guessed
anything.  Fortunately, we had reached my Mercedes by that time and I broke
the conversation off quickly and sped home.

There, in the privacy of my luxury town house, I studied myself closely in
the mirror, then I doffed my clothing for a look at how I was progressing.

It was better than I had expected.  My skin was smooth, soft, and -- except
for a triangular patch over my male organs -- hairless.  My shapely legs and
round ass would have looked great on any girl.  But most impressive of all,
above my nipped-in waist, were a pair of full firm breasts that had grown so
they were not easy to hide anymore.  Well, I thought, after tonight there
would be no need to hide them at all.  And in a month or so, if everything
went right, I'd be completely rid of them and back to being my old 100

You're probably wondering what all this is about.  The fact is that I had
been giving serious thought to the question of my Uncle Hubert's lost bastard
child for over a year.  Ever since the old bastard had been diagnosed as
terminal he'd been talking more and more about his lost youth and the
mistakes he'd made and the wrong he'd done.

One thing in particular had seemed to bother him more than most:  About
twenty years ago, he'd had a fling with some girl who must have really
impressed him.  He had even promised to marry her, or hinted around that he
might, anyway.  Whatever the case, when the lady in question got pregnant,
he'd dropped her like a greasy hand grenade, which was why the girl was so
ashamed at having been made such a fool of that she dropped out of college
(she'd been in some athletic program or something) and joined a travelling
circus.

Can you imagine anything like that in this day and age?  I couldn't either,
but Uncle Hubert had insisted it had happened, and the detectives I'd hired
confirmed it:  A girl with the plebeian name of Kitty O'Malley had really
dropped out of an Ivy League school twenty years ago and taken up employment
with an acrobatic troupe passing through the area that summer!  And this was
none other than the woman whom Uncle Hubert had seduced and abandoned.

As I said, I had hired detectives to dig all this information out for several
months ago.  You see, I could tell by the way Uncle Hubert had been talking
about this things that it was really preying on his mind and it occurred to
me that he would probably be looking to make amends before he died.

I was right.  The old reprobate broke down and cried one evening, just after
he'd gone into the hospital, swearing that he'd do anything if only he could
make things up to his poor, poor Kitty.  He'd hired some detectives himself
by that time, and it had come as quite a shock to him when they'd reported
back that Kitty had died over fifteen years earlier.  But you should have
seen his eyes light up when I reminded him that Kitty had been pregnant,
after all, there was still a very strong possibility that he had a son or a
daughter running around someplace who could be found and provided for!

That's when Uncle Hubert and I finally started to get along.  He was amazed
that any of his relatives would be so understanding and self-sacrificing as
to actually try and dig out another relative to share his billions with.  But
I put my pious look on my face and told him that I could see how much it all
meant to him, and from that day on, I was put in charge of `The Search for
the Missing Heir/ess.'

Since I was already several months ahead of the detectives he'd hired, it was
fairly easy to put them all on false trails while I sent my own detective on
a short-cut.

Then, when that had just almost found my uncle's lost child, I thanked them,
paid them generously, and told them to forget it, that I would have the
second team of investigators (the ones Uncle Hubert knew about) finish the
job.

By now, you're probably wondering about my motives in all this.  Well
frankly, I was wondering myself.  You see, I knew that there was a lot of
money at stake her.  And it seemed to me that whoever found this missing
child (actually a young lady by now, I had discovered) would hold the key to
the whole situation; if I found her, I could always present her to Uncle
Hubert and count on being cut in for a share of his gratitude.  If I ever did
present her to my uncle, that is!  It had also occurred to me that if I --
and I alone -- knew where she was, it might be possible to remove forever any
proof of her identity and sound my other relatives out on "How much would
they be willing to pay if I could guarantee that the missing child would
never be found?"

So everything I'd done up to a few months ago had been to ensure myself that
I would find Uncle Hubert's daughter long before anyone else could.  Then I
could see what the situation looked like and make my plans accordingly.  Only
I'd hit a snag.

My detectives had traced Kitty O'Malley's daughter to an outfit called "She
Devil's Travelling All-Female Circus." But there was something funny about
this set-up.  It seemed this circus didn't play small towns, shopping
centers, or hook with the big circuses the way other travelling shows did.
No, She Devil's troupe seemed to play exclusively at very posh and private
parties for people in the same income bracket as my Uncle Hubert.  And they
had their home base on the estate of a mega-billionaire who made even Uncle
Hubert seem like a piker.  During the summer months they would travel the
country side like any other circus outfit, except that they were a little
better off than most, and as I said, they only played at very swanky and very
private events.

Well, if there's one thing learned from being rich, it's that rich people
don't waste their time going to the circus.  S it was pretty obvious to me
that She Devil's Travelling All-Female Circus must be offering some extra
attraction for the jaded wealthy, and it didn't take me long to discover what
that was:  SEX!

Through my connections with other wealthy young men of leisure just like
myself, I soon learned that She Devil's Circus specialized in the bizarre.
My friend mentioned bondage displays, exotic sexual freaks, and feats of
eroto-acrobatics that would have amazed the Flying Wallendas.

So this was where my long lost cousin was working.

And this was where I would have to go to find her.

That was where my problem started.  Because for my purposes, I would have to
not only find the girl, but find out all I could about her private situation.
If there was any way she could be privately hidden away, spirited off, or
just have the proof of her identity removed, I had to know where it was.  And
if there wasn't, I had to know that too, so I could be as delighted as Uncle
Hubert over her discovery.  Therefore, I would have to conduct my own private
investigation incognito.  It would never do for Uncle Hubert to discover that
someone of my description had been continuing to search around She Devil's
Circus long after he should have found his long-lost daughter and brought her
home.

The answer stared me in the face for a long time before I finally admitted
it.  The only way that I could effectively disguise myself and do a close
investigation of She Devil's All Girl Travelling Circus was to disguise
myself as a woman!  And for s et-up like this, it would have to be not just a
disguise, but almost a complete transformation!

As I say, it took me a long time to admit this to myself; after all, though
not particularly big or masculine-looking, I am completely male and
definitely heterosexual, so the idea of turning myself into a woman -- even
temporarily -- was naturally repugnant to me.  But once I decided that this
was the only way to do it, I threw myself into the project with a vengeance.
I read everything I could about transvestism and transsexualism.  I discussed
things with well-known female impersonators and transsexuals.  I even spoke
to doctors who did the male-to-female operation.  And at last I had developed
a way to carry the whole thing off.

Expensive creams and hormones had softened my skin and almost completely
deadened my body hair.  Shots had rounded my buttocks and swelled my breasts
up to what would become impressive 38-D dimensions.  Corsetting and exercise
had nipped in my waist while another daily regimen had softened the muscles
in my arms and shoulders and shaped up my legs.  And hours of constant
practice had finally made me an expert in makeup, hair styling, and feminine
deportment.  I could now look and act completely feminine whenever I wanted.

Or almost completely.  There was just one detail to take care of:  my male
organs ..  some detail!  But I had at last found a way to get around even
that obstacle without doing myself any permanent harm.

Weeks of nightly soaking in a special astringent lotion had succeeded in
shrinking my cock and balls to about half their normal size.  And for an
outrageous fee, an obliging doctor had permanently stitched small loops of
surgical thread into the skin around my genitals.  I had been anaesthetized
during this procedure, of course, but the result was that I now had a network
of incredibly strong and tiny loops of thread completely around the area I
wanted to hide.

Now I picked up the device that I had ordered from an expensive special
effects lab in Hollywood:  An artificial vagina!  It was made of a durable
flesh-like substance and designed to fit comfortably over my real genitals,
holding them back in a small package between my legs.  There was even a
realistic permanently- moistened female passageway between the pussy-lips,
equipped with a nylon spring to keep it convincingly tight yet seductively
yielding.  And the entire thing was surrounded by dark hair that could be
easily and invisibly laced into the loops at my crotch!

Did I say "easily?" It took me almost an hour of bending forward, trying to
see between my jiggling breasts, to get the thing laced on!  But when I had
finished at last and looked at myself in the mirror once more, I felt an
enormous glow of satisfaction.  There, reflected back at me, was the perfect
image of an attractive -- even voluptuous -- woman!  Her curly dark hair fell
neatly to the nape of her neck in a perfectly feminine style.  And framed by
this dark hair, her softly made-up features smiled back at me:  Gracefully
arched eyebrows over demure, shadowed brown eyes with long dark lashes, just
a hint of blush at the cheeks, and the skin so soft as to need no foundation.
And a perfectly drawn pair of oh so kissable lips!

Below the neck, the shoulders were smooth and soft like the arms, betraying
no hint of masculinity.  At the chest were those firm, lovely breasts for
which I had worked so hard.  Below the flat tummy was an inviting triangle of
dark pubic hair with just a hint of pink nether lips behind it.  Behind this,
I could see the twin curves of a round, bouncing pink bottom.  And beneath my
gracefully swelling hips was a pair of legs that would make any woman
envious.

I was ready!

                                *********

"So you're Mattie Huntington?"

She Devil looked at ne over the strong, bitter tea that we were sharing in
her well-equipped trailer, her green eyes softly glowing.  They were
fascinating, those eyes of hers, and as we talked, I felt myself looking into
them more and more deeply.

"That's right," I lied in my soft feminine voice.  "I believe you received a
letter about me from my -ah- friend, Martin Howard?"

"Yes, Martin vouched for you alright; he said you're not an undercover
policeman or anything.  But I don't actually know Martin.  He himself was
referred to me by some long-standing patrons of mine.  So your references are
good but just slightly second hand."

"Isn't the money I'm paying you enough to settle any doubts?" I asked.  "I
mean, it - it's hard enough for me just getting up the nerve to try this
thing without having to go through this- this ...

"Interrogation?" She Devil smiled.  "Relax.  Mattie:  you're not the first
woman who has offered to pay me to hire her.  You'd be surprised how many
women have a latent streak of exhibitionism or submissiveness in them and
decide they'd like to try a few weeks with She Devil's Circus.  Your request
was a little different from most, however."

"You mean my stipulation that I shouldn't have to-to...."

"That you didn't want to perform for the customers but just wanted to help
out with the girls backstage," She Devil prompted.  "That's right.  In fact,
it might be very difficult to arrange.  This is a circus, after all, and part
of the system is that every girl must pitch in wherever she's needed.  That's
the only way we can get by."

"But-but I'm paying for this!" I insisted.  "And I really, really don't want
to have to -- have sex with-with men and things!  Isn't it possible for me
just to clean the girls rooms and care for their things?  Liked I asked?"

"I'll do what I can," She Devil said evenly, looking deeply into my brown
eyes with her smoldering green ones as she went on in her soft, compelling
voice, "But I want you to prepare yourself mentally for the times when we'll
ask you to do something else for us; to help in some way with the customers.
Of course, we won't force you to do anything against your will, but you may
find, after a little while with us, that you have more potential than you
ever thought.  As you relax, you'll find your mind expanding and your
horizons broadening.  And although you can refuse anytime you wish, you may
simply feel better by helping out.  That will all come later prehaps.
Meanwhile, I want you to remember that this arrangement will continue only
for as long as you can pay for it.  Is that clear?"

I shook myself out of the reverie into which I had somehow fallen and nodded.

"Much as I might like you personally," She Devil continued, "and I do find
myself strangely attracted to you, I can only survive as long as this show
prospers.  We serve a rich clientele, but that also means that our expenses
are high and our arrangements complicated.  I had a girl here, very much like
you, once who could not understand that ours was a business relationship:  We
provide our services only as long as you can pay for the.  That's all right
with you, isn't it?"

I nodded again, thinking comfortably of how well I had prepared for all this.
Not only had I changed my appearance, but I had also obtained false
identification papers and even set up a well stocked checking account through
a large bank in the name of Mattie Huntington.  And in case of emergency, I
had all my real identification, credit cards, and such safely hidden away in
the trailer I had bought to travel in with the circus.  I sipped my tea and
felt myself relaxing even more.

"Very good," She Devil smiled.  "Now, let's talk Mattie.  I want to discuss
the things you'll be wearing and the duties you'll be performing for me and
the other girls.  After all, we have to know just what you'lll be doing
before we know what outfits to have made for you.  So I want you to relax and
tell me all about your innermost thouhgts and fantasies.  And about yourself.
Tell me, Mattie, how old are you?"

We talked for almost two hours about all sorts of things:  Did I like my
body?  What did I think was my most attractive feature?  Howold was I? Where
was I raised?  Brothers and sisters?  What were my favorite colors?  My
favorite fabrics?  Did I enjoy the cool swish of silk?  Or the warm caress of
leather?  Both?  How about the comfortable squeeze of tight instep-arching
high heels, and the delightful rythym they impart to a woman's gait?  How
about the rustle of silken petticoats or the whisper of black silk stockings?
Had I ever felt the erotic constriction of a corset?  The delicate touch of a
leather collar?

Had I ever gone swimming in the nude?  How did I feel in school when I
showered with the other girls in Gym Class?  What would it to be like to be
photographed nude?  I was asked to relax and imagine myself in a situation
where I was meeting a few friends for an important luncheon at a fashionable
restaurant.  I was elegantly dressed, as I was now, in a heavy white silk
blouse, attractive mauve skirt, expensive silk slip and matching undies, with
sheer stockings on my legs, and fashionable shoes with two inch heels.  But
as we all sat down, I suddenly realized that there was a bigger than life
size poster on the wall behind me in which I was completely naked, down on
all fours, with a collar around my neck, being walked down a city street by
She Devil who was wearing my clothes.

I blinked, suddenly startled by the bizarre picture She Devil had created, a
little surprised to discover that I was not in that restaurant with all my
dream friends, but still here in She Devil's trailer.

"I'm sorry." I said stupidly.  "What was I saying?"

"Oh, nothing," She Devil smiled, rising.  "But I have a pretty good idea now
how I'm going to dress you and what you'll be doing!  It's late now, though.
Why don't you go back to your trailer and relax while I mnake some
arrangements.  Then, tomorrow morning, I'll introduce you to everyone and you
can start your job!"

                                *********

Starting the next day, and over the next few weeks, I discovered what a
bizarre set-up indeed was She Devil's Travelling All-Girl Circus.  And what a
strange cast of characters inhabited it!

There was Ktanka, the Strong lady, for instance, a lovely but muscular
Russian Goddess who towered almost seven feet tall, and whose proud boast was
that she could wrestle anything on earth.  I watched her one day, practicing
an odd combination of ballet moves and wrestling maneuvers, amazed by the
speed and agility of her big, smooth legs and the quick strength of her arms,
and I began to believe that she was probably right:  She could wrestle
anything.  Only I wouldn't have bet on her oppponent!

Then there was Lila, the Tattooed Lady, who bragged that every inch of her
skin was tattooed and charged customers to explore the truth of her claim.  I
saw her quite often, showering, sweating in the heat, even rubbing oil over
her body to show everyone that the tottoos were genuine; yet somehow, as I
watched her from day to day, the pattern of colorful pictures seemed to keep
changing, so that it was never the same fromone week to the next.

There was also Lasha, the Whip Woman, a dark-skinned leather- clad girl who
was never without some sort of stinging punishment device hanging from her
wrist or hip.  I saw her in competition once and gapsed as she knocked
bottles, one at a time, from a platform ten feet away before a sharpshooter
could shatter them with his target pistol!

And there were a host of others, even stranger:  Sally Swinger, the arealist;
Armless Amanda and legless Lilly, twin sisters; helga, the Horse-woman;
Magica, the conjurer; Kathy Clown (whose bag of X-rated tricks seemed as
inexhaustible as it was inventive); The Round-Up Girls, the Rubber Woman ...
I could go on all day!

One of the most interesting for me, though, was a pretty twenty-year-old
blonde who was introduced to me as just Molly.  She did an act with two
leopards in which the big cats walked lovingly between her legs, tickled her
with their tales, then gently made love to each other in a variety of human
positions at her command.  It seemed as if the animals actually loved their
blonde mistress, an attitude which was shared by the rest of the troupe as
well.  Molly's soft, gentle nature was cherished and protected by the other
girls in the troupe -- some of whom, as you may have gathered, were quite
hard-boiled -- and next to She Devil, she was teh most popular person in the
outfit.

Ah yes, She Devil.  Aptly named, that woman.  It wasn't that she was overtly
evil or anything; she just had an ineffable sinister quality that I could
never quite place.  She told me that she used to do a mind-reading and
hypnosis act in night clubs, and the more I came to know her entrancingly
proportioned body and her captivating green eyes, the easier it was for me to
believe it.

And I saw quite a lot of She Devil.  Since we were both backstagers, we often
had moments together while the others were working, and gradually these
moments lengthened into hours and then evenings.  Somehow, I always felt I
could relax with She Devil.  She would talk to me in her low, melodic voice,
rubbing the back of my neck as I sipped tea in her trailer, and after awhile,
I would listen and it would be me talking.  I only knew that when I left her
trailer, I always felt pleasantly refreshed, as if I had been able to out
down some terrible load for a little while.

Just when we became lovers I could not say.  It just seemed that one night I
opened my eyes and found myself crouched nude between her legs, tonguing
passionately between her pussy lips, feeling the soft caress of her bare
thighs on my ears.  I had never done this to a woman before, but I suddenly
found myself hungry for this exotic creature, physically aroused in a way I
had never felt before!  My nipples were erect and tingling, and between my
legs, my captive cock, imprisoned behind the false pudenda, ached warmly as
it struggled to expand in the small space ...  in vain!  But the pressure on
my balls as my swelling organ pushed at them was somehow more pleasant than
painful.

After that night, it seemed I just couldn't get enough of She Devil.  Every
chance I could, I would wait on her, attend her in the bath, run little
errands for her, or lovingly hand wash her stockings and lingerie for her.  I
ignored the comments from the other girls that She Devil was incurably
fickle, and devoted as much time and attention as I possibly could to this
fascinating lesbian!  And, oddly enough, it seemed that, though still very
much a male underneath, I was coming to think of myself more and more as ...
lesbian.  I lusted after She Devil, it's true; What guy wouldn't be turned on
by her full, firm breasts, her shapely legs, and the silken texture of her
tawny skin.  Beneath that false pussy I wore, my cock stiffened every time
she walked into a room!  But somehow, I also felt a stiffening in my nipples,
a warm, moist tingle in my crotch, and sometimes my mouth would actually
salivate with hunger to get between her thighs, like some kind of conditioned
reflex!  At those moments, I almost forgot about my real identity, even
forgot that I was really male, and responded to She Devil's charms in a
distinctly feminine way.  Soon, in fact, whenever she entered a room I would
feel my knees flex automatically.  Everyone assumed I was curtseying to her,
but actually it was a reflex action caused by my conditioned response to go
down on her, until I realized that we were in public.

But here I've been going on about She Devil and haven't gotten around to
telling you how she dressed me or some of the things I had to do around the
circus for the other girls -- and with them!  And there was also my gradual
discovery of my uncle's missing daughter, and how I uncovered proof of her
identity at last...  and what happened when I did!

No, life with She Devil's Travelling All-Girl Circus was not just an extended
feast between She Devil's bewitching thighs, much as I wished it could have
been.  In fact, I had to put up with quite a few inconveniences and even
indignities in order to keep up my masquerade of femininity and pursue my
search for my missing cousin.

For one thing, there was the way She Devil dressed me.  Since I had agreed to
be hired on her terms (although I was paying all the expenses!)  I had to
wear whatever she thought appropriate.  And She Devil had decided that as my
job was to be a back-stage assistant and general helper to the other girls,
the best outfit for me would be a series of Maids Costumes!

But what costumes they were!  They were in a variety of styles, but all were
of jet-black satin with white lace trim and accessories, such as caps and
aprons.

Aside from that, though, they were surprisingly different, from each other
and from any other kind of outfit I had ever seen a maid wear!

There was one traditional maid's dress, with puffed sleeves, lace collar,
layers of starched petticoats and a darling apron and cap set.  But the skirt
was so short that every time I walked in this thing it flipped up, offering
teasing glimpses of my black panty-clad bottom as well as the tops of my
opera-length black net stockings, and bending over to do anything at all was
...  well, I might as well have raised my panties up a flag pole for all the
exposure they got

My next Maid's outfit was much more concealing, but much more restrictive as
well.  The skirt on this one came clear to my ankles, and the dress had a
very high collar and long sleeves, as well as matching black satin gloves.
The problem was that the whole thing was so tight -- and made of such heavy
black satin -- that I could barely move in it!  There was a corset built into
the bodice which kept my back rigid and just slightly curved, and the high
satin collar was almost as bad as the corset, forcing me to keep my neck
strained outward and my chin up, so that I had to bend slightly forward just
to see in front of me.  The arms of this thing were so snug that I couldn't
bend my elbows very far or even raise my arms above my head.  It was a chore
just feeding myself, especially since the tight satin gloves were as
restrictive as the rest of the outfit, making it impossible for me to even
close my fingers very tightly.  It took She Devil a full fifteen minutes to
button me into this thing and lace the corset straps, and when she was
finished I couldn't get out of it without help.

But even that outfit was better than the next one, an ensemble so brief that
it was barely there at all.  It consisted of a tight (and I mean really
tight!)  satin corset with a small patch sewn on the bottom at the front, in
the shape of an elongated triangle, with the base sewn to the corset bottom
and narrowing at the tip to a thin strap that passed between my legs and ass
cheeks and then tied to the back of the corset.  With this on, my pussy was
just about hidden, but that was all.  There was an apron sewn to the front of
the corset, the skirt portion hanging just inches below my waist and the bib
portion held up by pasties on my nipples.  And this, along with
skyscraper-high heels, black-net stockings held up by black satin garters,
arm length black net fingerless gloves and the ubiquitous maid's cap was all
there was to it; My shoulders, the tops of my breasts, most of my back, and
my entire bottom were completely bare!  She Devil used to make me wear this
when I'd been disobedient, she said, and everyone in the group laughed
heartily at the sight of modest me scampering around camp on my duties,
trying all the while to keep my backside from view.

And this wasn't always easy, considering some of my duties.  Normally, all I
had to do was dust and vacuum the dozen or so trailers of the girls in the
troupe, easy enough considering their compact size and convenient layout.  I
had specifically picked out this job because it enabled me to snoop privately
through the papers in each girl's possessions, picking the locks on strong
boxes when necessary in my search for birth certificates, old photographs,
and anything else that might prove someone's identity.  It was this way that
I was able to discover...  but I'm getting ahead of myself.

As I said, my job occasionally called for a little work above and beyond the
call, and sometimes I found myself roped into something, that I certainly
hadn't figured on when starting.

There was the time, for instance, when Magica asked m to assist her in an
illusion.  For this one, I was attired in a sweeping, floor-length strapless
gown of light green silk, no underwear, dark silk stockings and elbow length
white gloves, along with a string of pearls and the usual four inch high heel
shoes, of course.  Dressed like this, I waited in the stands of our portable
arena until she asked for a volunteer from the audience and someone pushed me
out.  Acting a bit nervous and reluctant (which wasn't really acting) I came
into the spotlight with her and introduced myself as Mattie Huntington, a
wealthy visitor.  Magica thanked me for "volunteering" and led me up to a
heavy wooden X-frame up on a small platform.

In no time at all, Magica had my wrists securely tied with strong rope to the
top of the X and my ankles similarly secured at the bottom.  Then she called
for another volunteer to make sure I was really helplessly bound.

Suddenly Kathy Clown came running up from the darkness at the edge of the
spotlight.  In slapstick pantomime, she conveyed to the audience that she
wanted to test me, to make sure I couldn't move, and the audience applauded
wildly.

All at once I found myself hit in the face by a stream of seltzer water.  I
sputtered in protest, then screamed shrilly as Kathy directed the stream down
the front of my dress, soaking it to a clinging, near transparent mess that
outlined every inch of me.

From up her sleeve, Kathy produced a huge bouquet of feather flowers and
proceeded to plant these down my decolletage.  I looked down in wonder, only
to be hit full in the face again by another stream of seltzer.

But Kathy was just getting started.  Smiling impishly, she plucked a feather
from the bouquet between my breasts and began tickling me!

Oooo!  I writhed, I giggled.  I screamed for help as I tugged frantically at
the ropes that imprisoned my wrists and ankles.  But it was no use.  I felt
the merciless caress of the feather as it swept artfully up my sides to my
armpits, behind my ears and under my chin, then darted down to the insides of
my thighs.  How long it went on I couldn't say, but at last I was hanging
exhausted by my wrists and Kathy was bowing as the audience applauded wildly
in the darkness beyond the spotlight.

Now Magica proceeded with her act.  Two stagehands brought out an ornate red
lacquer oriental cabinet, about six feet square, and Magica made a big
production of showing everyone that it was empty.  Then, with a flourish, she
swept off her oversized cape and draped it over the wooden X-frame, covering
me completely.  Through the heavy fabric, I heard a "poof!" and saw a flash
of light, and then I suddenly felt a trap door opening beneath my feet as
razor sharp blades concealed in the X-frame flashed out and back, severing my
bonds.  Instantly, I was plummeting downwards as hooks caught my dress and
ripped it from me.  Then I was rolling down a short passageway and onto a
small platform.  My weight flipped a trigger somewhere, and before I could
even realize what was happening, I was shot upwards into some kind of black
closet about six feet square.

And then the sides suddenly fell from the closet.  Dazed, I blinked and
looked around

On the stage, Magica was bowing and showing off Molly, who, attired in an
outfit identical to my green dress, was now bound to the X-frame.

And I was standing, free, in what had been the oriental cabinet.

Free and almost naked!

I squealed and clasped my arms around me as I suddenly realized that I was
standing there in front of everyone in just my stockings, gloves and heels!
And as the band kicked up a lively circus chase theme, I leaped from the
platform and ran, blushing furiously, to the safety of the performers door
under the stands.

A little while later, in the front of her trailer, She Devil massaged my back
softly as I lay comfortably nude on her floor.  She was nude herself, and the
feel of her bare thighs straddling my back was giving me warn tingles all
over that had nothing to do with the carpet beneath my stomach.

"There, there, Poor Little Thing," she cooed softly.  "I know it was just
horrible, but really you were sensational.  And you were really the best one
for the job, you know; you and Molly have completely different coloring, but
there is enough resemblance between your faces and builds to add a lot of
visual impact to the illusion.  But don't worry.  I'll tell Magica to do her
acts from now on without your assistance."

"Oh thank you, She Devil," I breathed softly, luxuriating in the gentle touch
of her hands up and down my bare back.  Then I thought of something else:
"By the way, uh, how long has Molly been with you?"

"Molly?" She Devil replied casually.  "Why for years and years.  At first,
she was too young to even use in any of the acts, but her mother had died
years ago and the acrobatic troupe that bad been raising her broke up, and...
well, the kid bad no place to go and nothing but a pathetic little envelope
full of papers and photographs, so I took her in and found some things for
her to do that didn't involve performing for the customers.  She and Leona
(Oh, you don't remember Leona, do you?  She left the show a couple of years
back.)  Anyway, she and Leona worked out that cat act and when Leona left,
Molly took over.  But why so interested in Molly?  Should I be jealous?"

"Oh no," I answered quickly.  "Just curious, that's all."

"Well that better be all," She Devil moaned and leaned forward, I felt the
hairs between her legs brush across my smooth bottom as her full breasts
flattened against my bare back, and I felt that old familiar ache in my
pussy.  Did I say Pussy?  I mean the ache was in my male genitals, of course,
hidden behind the false pussy.  Funny how I was getting confused about that
lately.  But She Devil was still talking.

"I want you all to myself, you magnificent animal, you," she was saying.  "I
want to cage you and keep you and have you perform just for me.  And I want
to have you feeding right out of my hand...  or right out of any place else I
think of!

"Oh yes," I sighed, helpless to resist this woman's lesbian charms.  "Any
thing for you, She Devil!"

"All right, Animal!" she giggled.  "Play Horsie for me!"

"What?" I half rolled over and looked up at her quizzically.

"You heard me," she insisted softly.  "Play Horsie!  Come on now, up on your
hands and knees, right between my legs here...  That's right!  Oooo, that
feels sexy!  Now carry me around the room this way!  That's it!  Giddyap,
Horsie!"

And, odd as it may seem, I, Martin Howard, a man of considerable wealth (and
on my way to much more) did just as she asked -- willingly!  Nude and
completely feminized, I happily carried this equally naked circus performer
around the room on my back, feeling my breasts sway beneath me as I walked,
revelling in the exciting jiggle of my bare pink rump as She Devil swatted it
playfully.  And then, when my ride had ended us up in the bedroom, I took my
reward, lapping gratefully between her tempting nether- lips until she at
last moaned in fulfillment and felt my own body tingle with naughty lesbian
enjoyment.

After then, it seemed like all She Devil wanted to do when we were together
was some variation on the "horsie" game.  As soon as I entered her trailer, I
would have to strip naked and drop to my knees to approach her.  When I did
this, she would rub me affectionately behind the ears and call me a Good
Horsie, and if there was time she would have me fetch the Bridle.

Ah yes, the Bridle.  I really didn't care much for this, but She Devil had it
made up specially for me by the Round-Up Girls, and she seemed to really love
having me wear it, so I humored her.  Basically, it was a set of leather
straps that buckled tightly around my head, fastened to a semi-soft plastic
tube about half an inch long and an inch in diameter.  This tube was placed
between my teeth and the straps adjusted so that I was biting down on it, my
teeth fitting into little grooves on the outside.  When She Devil had
finished putting this thing on me, my mouth was held open and she could jerk
my head side to side by pulling on the reins.  I could make little whinnying
noises, but intelligible speech was out the question so long as this thing
was on.

And She Devil had a host of devilish little tricks for keeping it in place!
One evening, while wearing it, I happened to turn my back to her and suddenly
felt my wrists seized from behind.  In no time, my hands were cuffed behind
me and She Devil was laying down the law:

"Now Horsie," she said with mock severity.  "You've been very lax in your
duties lately, so I'm going to do a little something to impress you with how
much I love having you all for my very own Horsie and how I hate to see you
spending so much time in Molly's trailer.  Understand?"

I whined and nodded my head, agreeing that I shouldn't be spending so much
time there.  Actually, I had almost found what I was after......  but She
Devil took my assent as permission to punish me

"Very well," she said, uncoiling a length of rope.  "Kneel down!"

I did as she ordered, unsure of where all this was leading, and quickly found
that she had bound my left ankle to my upper left thigh and was doing the
same with my right!  As always with She Devil, I was completely nude except
for my bridle, and as she fussed over me, I felt myself oddly excited by the
feel of her leather boots brushing against me, the whisper of her tan denim
jodhpurs, and the softness of her breasts through her white silk blouse as
she leaned over me.

But this was no time to think of that.  What was happening to me?  She Devil
tied each ankle immovably to its thigh, and now she was tying my knees
together with a long, long length of the soft but strong nylon rope.  As I
looked down in wonder, she took the unused portion of this rope, which was
sticking out from behind my bent knees, and was using it to wrap my bent legs
!  Around and around she went, tightening and re-tightening, until my leg
stumps were bound together like a mummy, encircled by yards and yards of the
white cord, from my ankles and upper thighs right down to my pink knees.

But She Devil wasn't finished there.  In no time, she had produced a frilly,
lace trimmed, corset of heavy white satin, reinforced with strong plastic
ribs, and she was fastening this thing around my middle, tugging mercilessly
at the laces.

Ooogh!  I felt my waist being nipped in to breathless tightness as She Devil
pulled and pulled at the laces.  The frilly white satin trim at the top and
bottom of this brushed the undersides of my breasts and tickled the hairs at
the top of my pussy as She Devil at last judged it confining enough and tied
it off.

"Now what shall we do with those hands of yours?" She Devil mused.  "Horsies
don't have hands, you know!  I have it!"

She went to her medicine cabinet and soon returned with two big rolls of
white surgical taps.  Taking each hand separately, she bent the fingers and
proceeded to wrap it firmly into a useless half fist, leaving only the thumbs
free.  I wondered about this briefly..  until She Devil made her next move!

With a smooth motion, she unlocked my handcuffs and before I could think what
to do, tied my thumbs together in front of me with a length of white nylon
ribbon.  Then, to finish things off, she ran a length of narrow white nylon
cord from my thumbs to my knees, leaving about two feet of slack between
them|

"There now!" She Devil stood up and smiled down at me.  "Horsie won't go
wandering off now, will she?"

I looked at myself in a full length mirror on the far wall and blushed with
shame.  Crouched there on my hands and knees, I was a pink and white picture
of helpless submission.  The white bondage encircling my bent up legs and
hands went perfectly with my white satin corset, accentuating the flesh tones
of exposed breasts and bottom, which now reared up behind me in humiliating
prominence.  Encircled by my dark hair and the leather straps of my bridle,
my pretty feminine face gaped uselessly at the sight I made, down on all
fours and completely unable to rise, to take off my bridle...  to do anything
but what I was ordered!

And, standing over me, toying with a shiny black riding crop, She Devil
obviously had some interesting orders planned!

"Move around some, Horsie!" she giggled softly.  "I want to study your
movements.  Get along now!"

As best I could, I moved my bound fists forward on the carpet, then wiggled
my ass behind me, sliding my knees forward to catch up.  Then, when I had a
little more slack, I repeated the whole shameful process:  First a
breathtaking jerk with my taped fists, then a tail wagging shuffle with my
hampered knees to catch up.  She Devil laughed delightedly at my antics.

"How cute!" she chuckled, flexing the riding crop in her hands.  "But I
wonder what would happen if I used this!"

I quailed at the sight of the leather quirt, shaking my head and whining for
all I was worth, and She Devil laughed again.

"Oh, I don' t mean to spank your naughty bottom with," she tittered.  "Not
right now, anyway!  But look what happens when I tickle your nipples with
it...  my!  They're standing right up!  And you're moaning!  Now what happens
when I brush it across the soles of your bare feet?  Does that tickle?  My,
your bottom bounces when you jump like that!  And the way your titties shake
is positively indecent!  Settle down Horsie!"

Somehow, I made myself stop bucking and stood there (if being forcibly tied
down on one's hands and knees can be called "standing") quivering with
anxiety and sexual tension as She Devil softly stroked my naked flanks with
her hand, then playfully tickled me under the nose with the tip of the riding
crop.

"And now, Horsie, it's time you were punished for spending so much time in
Molly's trailer and making She Devil jealous!"

Punished?  You mean there was more?  Yes, apparently there was, because She
Devil went on:

"You see, it's just now Show Time and I'm going to be busy for the next few
hours coordinating some of the acts.  I had thought about just tying your
reins to a post out in the middle of the campgrounds and leaving you there,
but now I have a better idea:"

"After the Show, I'm going straight to your trailer.  When I get there, I
want to find you, bound just as you are now.  That means you'll have to
hustle your cute little ass all the way there from here!  Fortunately for
your sake, there won't be too many girls in this area during the show, but
you'll have some pleasant moments trying to keep from being seen like that,
my little modest missie!  I think I may also tell the girls that there's a
reward out for whoever catches you out and ties you to her trailer, just to
make things interesting!  So, there you have it, Horsie:  You've got about
three hours to sneak across camp and lock yourself in your trailer until I
come for you.  If you're caught, your fate will be up to whoever catches you.
But if you don't, at least try to make it, and I find you still in here when
I come beck after the show..." She smiled impishly.  "Well, let's just say
that this nasty old riding crop has a lot of applications!  'Ta now!"

And, blowing me a kiss, she vanished out the door!

I don't know how long I huddled there in that trailer, feeling my arms and
legs stiffen in their restraints, chafing under the growing ache in my neck
as I strained to hold my head up, and trembling in fear at the prospect of
hobbling and crawling clear across camp in this bound-up bare-assed state.  I
looked at myself miserably in the mirror and my big pink bottom and jiggling
bare breasts seemed to mock me.  How had a man like me ever gotten into a
situation like this?  Feminized, bridled, breasted and bound down on all
fours, and in this state faced with the prospect of trying to make it clear
across the circle of trailers that formed our camp, at the mercy of a bunch
of gaudy whores!

For the umpteenth time I wondered what spell She Devil had cast over me to
get me into a fix like this, then I sighed, nosed open the trailer door and
peeked out.

It looked good.  Everyone was assembled for the Opening Parade and the rest
of the camp was deserted.  Cautiously I turned around, backed my big rump out
the door, and backed carefully down the three steps to the ground.

Down on the soft grass at last, I looked around again.  Still deserted; I
just might make it.  But I'd better keep close to the trailers and go around
the perimeter rather than cut across; that way, if anyone came, I could
always duck under a trailer and hide till they passed.  Cautiously, I began
my journey:  A forward tug on my bound arms, then a jiggling shuffle in my
knees to catch up.  Then another forward tug.  And another shuffle.
Tug-shuffle, tug- shuffle, tug-shuffle ....

My bridled jaws throbbed with the pain of being kept forced open like this
for so long, even as my neck screamed silent agony from the strain of holding
my head up to see in front of my.  Every forward tug of my bound hands jerked
at the rope that secured them to my knees and prevented me from straightening
up.  My knees burned from the friction of scooting them across the grass, and
my bent-up, rope-wrapped legs felt like they were growing numb.  I had to
stop, rest, and hide somewhere.

Then I looked up and saw that I was right in front of Molly's trailer.

And the door was ajar!

Over the last week or so, I had indeed been spending quite a lot of time
there, as She Devil had mentioned; but not for the reason she suspected!
Ever since She Devil had dropped that passing comment about Molly showing up
with "a pathetic little envelope full of papers and photographs" I had been
obsessed with the idea of finding them and seeing if they contained proof of
Molly's identity.

You see, there was a lot about Holly that led me to believe that she was none
other then my long-lost bastard cousin.  As She Devil had mentioned, there
was a slight physical resemblance between us:  nothing major, just a hint
around the chin and nose.  More importantly though, Molly had mentioned to me
once that she had exceptionally strong teeth and had never required any
dental work!  This was one characteristics that is shared by nearly all the
Howard family, and when she told me about it, it clenched my suspicions.  All
I needed was proof.  And the only place to get it would be to find that
envelope full of papers and photographs, that until now I hadn't had a chance
to really search for!

All this and more flashed through my mind in an instant as I tugged and
pulled my way up her steps and in the door of her trailer.  It might seem
terribly foolish of me to try looking for anything in my present state, but I
had to rest somewhere anyway, and I knew I might not get a chance like this
again soon.

Half an hour later, rested and a little more mobile, I began my search.  I
had found a knife in the kitchenette of Molly's trailer and used it to cut
the ribbon that held my thumbs together.  With my hands still taped up, it
didn't free me by a long shot, but at least I could raise my arms now and use
my thumbs to open drawers and such.

Being familiar with Molly's trailer, it didn't take me long to find what I
was looking for:  a strong manila envelope tucked into some old scrapbooks.
And everything I needed was right there!  A birth certificate from some
county in Utah that I'd never heard of, where one Kitty O'Malley, passing
through with a troupe of acrobats, had delivered her daughter Molly.  There
were photographs, of mother and daughter that cinched the whole thing; The
Kitty O'Malley in these pictures was obviously the one that Uncle Hubert's
detectives were looking for, and the girl with her was just as obviously her
daughter Molly!

It was all here, everything I needed.  And it was in just the right package,
too!  Without this stuff, much as they might suspect, no one could prove that
Molly was really Uncle Hubert's bastard child.  With it, the proof would
stand up anywhere.

And I had it all, right in my hands, to do whatever I wanted with!

For just a second, I forgot all about my present condition.  I forgot that I
was feminized, bound, bare breasted and bare-assed, bridled speechless and
hobbling about on my knees.  For that brief moment, I was Martin Howard all
over again, a man of wealth and status, with infinite possibilities
stretching out before him:  Should I take this stuff to my greedy relatives
and let them bid to buy my silence?  Or should I play the hero and be the one
to bring the long-lost daughter back to the arms of her dying, loving, and
financially grateful repentant father?  Either way, I was going to be richer
than I ever had been before.  All I had to do was tell She Devil that I'd had
enough of Circus Life, drop out of the troupe and disappear, only to
resurface in a few days as my real self.

Well, I decided, all things considered I might as well be Mr.  Nice Guy and
tell Molly about her inheritance and help her prove her claim to it.
Besides, that would give me a chance to see She Devil again, and find out if
she'd respond to me as I really was:  A man!

Sighing through my open-mouth tube, I decided I'd better replace the envelope
and try to sneak back to my trailer.  Still in my uncomfortable bondage (a
little easier now with my arms not bound together, but still awfully awkward)
I pranced my ass beck to the scrapbook and, clutching the envelope as best I
could with my thumb and taped fist, began putting it back.

Even if I hadn't been gagged, I'd have been speechless with shock as I spun
around to see who had crept up behind me so quietly.  And even if I hadn't
been already bound, I'd still have been motionless with guilty terror as I
crouched there, incredibly feminine and incredibly helpless, my big pink
breasts and ass exposed to the world, and looked up into the smiling face of
my gay cousin Roderick!

"Hello Martin," he beamed, tucking the envelope into his pocket and pulling
out a small, shiny pistol, "Or is it Mattie now?  I must say I like your
appearance much better now.  And your taste in clothing is positively
captivating!  That is the way you feel now, isn't it?  Captivated?  I think
I'll keep you that way from now on!"

He sat down on the edge of the bed, still smiling at me and casually holding
the pistol.  I felt myself redden under his gaze as his eyes swept up and
down shamefully displayed femininity until I was positively burning with
embarrassment and helpless humiliation.  Miserably unable to speak or run
away, I pressed my legs together as best I could and crossed my taped fists
over my massive titties.

"Good idea!" Roderick chuckled.  Then suddenly he reached into another pocket
and pulled out two pairs of handcuffs.  Before I knew it, be had secured my
left wrist to my right forearm vice versa, so that my arms were permanently
crossed in front of my curvaceous bare chest.  I looked up at him in wonder.

"That's just to make sure you keep still while I tell you what's going to
happen," he explained, sitting back down.  So that you'll know exactly what's
going to become of you and our bastard cousin and how helpless you are to
prevent any of it.

"You see.  I suspected back in New York that you were up to something, and
the way your appearance was changing (I mean you can't hide a thing like a
sex change from a judge of the male form like me!)  really piqued my
curiosity.  So the day after you left.  I broke into your apartment and began
looking through your records!"

My eyes widened in shock as he continued:

"It was quite an interesting story I pieced together," he said, "What with
your detectives tracing Uncle Hubert's long lost daughter to this all female
circus and you feminizing yourself to join the show undercover, so to speak.
And I must say that the detail about putting Uncle Hubert's detectives on a
false trail so you could have a few weeks to investigate things on your own
showed surprising intelligence -- coming from you, I mean."

"But I've decided on a little variation of my own.  Would you like to hear
it, you gorgeous, feminine thing you?.  Of course you would!  Well, in a few
minutes, when that Molly person comes in the door, I'm going to shoot her!
I've been practicing quite a bit, so there shouldn't be any difficulty at all
in killing her with one shot, and her act finishes first tonight, so there
won't be anyone in the area to hear it," he twirled the gun playfully.  "Dead
eye Roderick, that's me!  But you won't be awake to appreciate my
marksmanship."

He reached into his pockets once more with his free hand and drew out a small
hypodermic syringe!  I shivered in dread as he went on to outline his plans
for me:

"You'll be sound asleep by that time, my Dear.  That way, you won't give me
any trouble when I untape those lovely hands of yours (by the way, it was
very considerate of you to put yourself up like that for my benefit!  I'm
thrilled to discover that you're into bondage too, because that's just how I
like my men:  bound and feminized!  But I digress, don't I?).  When I untape
those lovely hands of yours and put your fingerprints all over the gun, which
I'll leave here.

"And you?  Well I'm going to wait until very late, then spirit your sleeping
form out to my car and off to a hospital near here where I've arranged for
Mattie Huntington to have a little plastic surgery!  Oh, nothing major; just
enough so that no one will recognize you when I bring you back to New York
and introduce you as my bride who I picked up in Florida -- which is where
everyone thinks I am now, boating!  Don't fret so, Beautiful!  I know that
being my Terribly Submissive Wife will take some getting used to, but since
the Police will all be searching for Martin Howard for the murder of this
girl Holly, I think you'll find it much better than the alternative!  Can you
imagine life in a Southwestern Prison?  In your condition?"

"No, there's no sense in you moaning like that; I'm not going to ungag you
and let you argue with me.  I've gone to too much trouble in the surrounding
area here convincing everyone that I'm you!  It wasn't easy buying all the
forged identification and such, but believe there is now a very convincing
trail of evidence to put you right in this spot and me a thousand,miles away.
I even bought this gun in your name!  And oh yes, the Relatives are going to
pay a pretty penny for me removing both you and your Cousin in one deft
stroke.

He picked up the syringe, putting his thumb on the plunger and leaned
forward.

"Sleepy-time, Sweetheart!" he laughed, "when you wake up, Martin Howard will
be a wanted fugitive and You will he my Bondage Bride!  Now hold still while
I slip this needle under your breast...  Uh--Wha-- ?

Just at that moment the door opened and She Devil entered.  Roderick
hesitated for an instant, the syringe poised in his hand as he tried to
figure out what to do now.

And in that instant, I leaned forward, on top of the hand holding the
syringe, plunging it deep into his thigh and squeezing the plunger!  He
squealed, looked sharply at me, then his eyes went soft and he collapsed with
a tired moan.

She Devil looked back and forth between us, her green eyes flashing.

"Just what the Hell is going on here?" she demanded.  Ooohruuughuu!" I
gurgled through my gag.

                               * * * * * *

It was two hours later.  She Devil and I were in her trailer, looking at the
cold inert form of my late Cousin Roderick.

"Guess his heart just couldn't take it," She Devil said.  "Too bad for him.
And for you too, come to think of it"

I was huddled shaking on the overstuffed chair in She Devil's tiny living
room, wrapped in a housecoat of flame colored satin that she had thoughtfully
given me after she'd untied me and we'd carried my Cousin's body over here
unseen.  I had told her everything:  All about myself, my real sex and
identity and what I was doing here -- even my mixed motives in assuming this
disguise.  I was Just too shaken up to hold anything back.

And now I looked at her in fresh consternation.

"Me too?" I squeaked.  "What do you mean?"

"In case you haven't noticed, Babe," She Devil explained coolly, "We're got a
dead body here:  one that's going to have to be explained to the Police.
Said body has a hole from a needle in his thigh and your fingerprints are all
over the syringe!"

"B-but you said he-he died of a heart attack." I stammered.

"For all I know.  it could just as easily be an overdose," She Devil replied.
"And from what you said this joker ran around buying everything in your name.
So when the Police see him, they're going to start putting motive, method,
and opportunity together real fast!"

"But you saw it" I protested.  "You saw me...  him..."

"What I saw went by so fast I could not even figure it out," she countered.
"Not that the cops would buy my story any way.  They'd probably just figure
me for an Accessory!  No, thank you!"

"But then-then what are we going to do?" I whimpered pulling the satin
housecoat tighter over my smooth, bare, feminine flesh as I curled my shapely
legs beneath me for warmth.  "I-I can't let them arrest me for murder!  I
can't let anyone know I've been here like-like this!"

"Steady girl." She Devil cautioned.  "There Just might be a way to get us
both off the hook for your cousin's murder without giving anything away about
your work here -- Or your disguise!  It'll take a lot of work and a lot of
sacrifice on your part, but I think we can carry it off.  And like you said
your cousin told you:  It'll be better than a stretch in prison for murder...
in your condition!"

"Anything," I assented eagerly.  "Any thing would be better than that!
What's your idea?"

"Just this:" she said.  "This Roderick guy went through a lot of trouble, you
said, to leave everyone in this area convinced he was you, Martin Howard.
Even if we knew what all he'd done, we could probably never erase it.  So
whatever happens, when they find this stiff, the Police are going to know
that Martin Howard was in this vicinity.  So what if we carry your cousin
Roderick's impersonation of you a step further?"

"Wh-what do you mean?" I asked.

"Just this," She Devil explained.  "You two are roughly the same build and
hair color, and from what you've told me, neither.  one of you has any
fillings, so there won't be any dental records to check.  So what do you
think the Police would figure if they found a body -- mangled beyond
recognition -- dressed in your clothes and carrying your identification?"

"Wh-why, they'd think it was me, I guess," I said.  "Especially since there
would be local records and witnesses who thought they'd seen me in this area!
But-but how on earth could we ever explain that mark on his body or-or what
you said about him being mangled?"

"Easy!" She Devil smiled.  "Molly's cats!  They seem gentle enough with her,
but they just hate strange men!  We could even rub some fish oil over the
hands and face, to make sure they give those parts a good going over!"

I shivered in horror at the thought.  But I could see her awful logic:  If
the Police found my cousin Roderick dead here, and me here also, in disguise,
they couldn't help but think I'd killed him; but if they found a body they
thought was me, and could piece together stories from witnesses to "prove"
that I'd just arrived here and met with an accident in the cats' cage...
Then they wouldn't be looking for me at all!.  I'd be perfectly safe!.  But
there was another problem:

"She Devil," I said, "One other thing:  As soon as word of my 'death' gets
out, I'm not going to be able to be me any more!  Where will I go?  What will
I do?

"I thought you'd get around to that," She Devil replied, "Well, I owe you
something, maybe, for not letting that gay cousin of yours shoot me.  And I
definitely owe you something for lying to me, getting this whole set up into
this fix, and trying to rob poor Molly of her inheritance--"

"But I wasn't going to--"

"Quiet!" She Devil snapped.  "So I figure you can stay on here as one of the
girls for awhile.  It won't be the easy life you were used to, but it'll be
meals and a roof over your head until you decide you'd like to try something
different.  It'll beat jail, I bet."

"You'd do that for me?" I asked, relieved to be seeing a way out of all this
at last.  "You'd let me stay here and work for you?"

"Oh, you'll be working all right," She Devil smirked.  "You may not like all
of it, but you can always leave and try something else if you're too unhappy
here, and you wouldn't get that choice in prison.  But there's one other
thing, from what you've said, when word of Martin Howard's death gets out,
those detectives that you and your Uncle hired are going to come down on this
place like a pack of hungry hounds.  They'Il find your cousin Molly, of
course, and take her off to be reunited with her rich Daddy.  No problem
there but while they're here, and we don't know for sure when they'll be
coming or how long they'll stay, we've got to make sure they don't recognize
you or take any pictures of you that someone else might be able to identify.
In other words, we've got to disguise you even more than you are now.  Enough
so that no one will ever recognize you!"

"But, how will we do that?"

"Let's take care of this thing first."

She Devil nudged the body of my late Cousin with the toe of her high-heeled
shiny black leather boot, then looked up at me.  "Then we'Il go see Lila, the
Tattoed Lady!"

                               * * * * * *

The detectives were a couple of overweight tired looking guys sweating in the
unaccustomed heat, but they had brought along with them a sharp looking
female attorney from a local branch of the firm that handles my uncle's
business.  I opened the door for them, and curtseyed in my short skirted
maid's uniform, my eyes downcast demurely, trying not to feel the hot stares
of the two men as their eyes fastened on my dark, shapely legs, and the tops
of my enormous breasts.  They were round, brown, and more than amply
displayed by the low cut decolletage of my uniform.

"Madame!"

I turned to She Devil and curtseyed again, as I had been taught to do, while
I made the formal announcement.

"Zee Detectives are 'eer!"

"Thank you, Yvette."

She Devil nodded to me condescendingly.  "Why don't you fix us all drinks
while we chat?" She turned to her guests, "so what else can I do for you?"

"Nothing much, Ma'am," the older of the two replied, ogling openly at me even
as he spoke to She Devil.

"Or I guess not right now, anyway.  Miss, er Ms., Bidwell here just thought
we should go over things one last time before we leave with Miss O'Malley to
make sure there was nothing left out of your statement."

I felt the still unfamiliar stiffness of my coarse, kinky black hair as I
bent my head over the drinks, trying to listen, even as my dark hands, with
their slightly lighter palms, stirred a pitcher full of gin and vermouth.

"Everything should be there," She Devil said calmly, relaxing in her chair.

"From what you've said, that Martin Howard must have learned something about
Molly's real father and come down here trying to find her himself.  Why he
went into the Cat Cage is something of a mystery, though."

"From what the Police said, there were Narcotics in his system at the time of
his death." The older detectives' eyes widened a bit as I pirouetted
gracefully in my high heels (it had been a bitch learning to walk in them)
and minced over to the company balancing my tray of drinks.

His voice caught in his throat as I had to turn my back to him and serve the
female attorney, who was eyeing my scanty costume critically and pursing her
lips in undisguised disapproval at the expanse of my dark colored skin left
uncovered.

"His uncle told us that Martin was kind of a wild, high living guy, so we
figure maybe he did a few lines of Coke and wasn't thinking too clear when he
went in there," the detective went on as soon as he had recovered from the
sight of my panty clad ass, as I bent over, as seen from the rear.  I had
begged She Devil not to make wear such tiny white lace panties with this
short 'skirt', but my pleas had fallen on deaf ears as she had insisted that
I appear in them.  I dutifully turned and offered the detective a drink as he
went on.

"He also he had a gun with him, so maybe he figured he could use it before
those cats.., uh down here Honey, my arm's a little stiff and I can't raise
it too high."

I felt myself blushing hotly beneath my newly acquired dark cheeks as I bent
lower to offer him the tray of drinks, giving him an unobstructed view down
the front of my dress, even as I was treating his partner to the panorama of
my scantilty clad ebony ass.  Then I had to whirl around and go through the
whole thing again with the other guy!.

"Better bend down a little lower Hon, I'm stiff too," he leered, "what'd you
say your name was?"

"Sorry," I said in the baby doll voice She Devil had made me work on until it
was perfect, "but I do not understand zee English too well yet!"

"Her name's Yvette," She Devil answered, giving me a secret smile as I turned
to her with the last of the drinks, "she's from Algeria, and she doesn't
speak too much English yet."

"And just how did she happen to emigrate to this part of the world?" Ms.
Bidwell asked sweetly, with an underlying sharpness that unsettled my nerves.
But She Devil was ready for her.

"She advertised for an American husband," she told her.  "I'm sure you've
heard about those things.  You see, girls like her, dark skinned with a
French father and a native mother aren't treated very well in her part of the
world, so she decided to take a risk and come over here as the bride of a man
she'd never met.  Well, I won't go into details, but it didn't work out, and
the authorities were going to ship her back until I offered her a job with
me.  As you can see, she's extremely devoted and grateful to me."

"So I noticed," Ms.  Bidwell said, finishing her drink, "but I think we're
through here now.  I'll just go and see if Molly is packed yet.  Then we're
going into the City to buy her some new clothes before I take her back to New
York.  I can't tell you how intensely Hr.  Howard is looking forward to
seeing his daughter at long last."

"I can imagine," Fellna smiled.  "Of course, we'll miss Molly, but we're all
so happy for her, going off to be rich and everything." They all rose, the
detectives still eyeing me wistfully, and moved to the door.

"And if we can do anything more for you, just let us know."

Once they were gone, Fellina turned to me with a triumphant smile.

"It worked," she said, "They won't be looking for you now!"

"Humph!" I pouted, putting my hands on my hips.  "They were too busy looking
at me to be bothered looking for me!  I can't wait to get out of these skimpy
outfits and into some real clothes for a change."

"Oh!  I meant to tell you about that," She Devil said, "I gave most of your
clothes to Molly.  Her Lion Tamer outfits simply weren't appropriate to wear
out anywhere, and you were really the only girl in Camp with very much of a
sensible wardrobe in anything close to her size, so I told her just to take
your things.  I think she's driving off with them now."

Shocked, I spun around to see Molly getting into a car with Ms.  Bidwell,
wearing the clothes I had worn on my first day here and carrying my suitcase.

"But She Devil!" I protested.  "What will I wear?  How much of my stuff did
you give her?"

"Don't worry," She Devil patted my bottom reassuringly.

"I left you all your delicate undies and a few of your lighter nighties, plus
your taller high heels and fancy stockings, and your other two maid uniforms,
of course!"

"But I can't go any place in those clothes," I whined.

"Look at me!" I gestured down at the vast expanse of freshly stained skin
that the silly black satin and white lace maid's uniform left on display,
regreting that Lila had been so proficient at her skin dying art.  My lips
had been slightly enlarged by her tattooing needle.  Even the shape of my
nose had been altered by tiny hollow plugs implanted in my nostrils.  I was a
Black girl now, down South, and with only the most outlandishly feminine
attire to wear!

"It'll be OK," She Devil said soothingly.  "I'll order some new clothes for
you, once we decide what you're going to be doing here and what clothes
you'll need for it!  There should be enough money left in Mattie Huntington's
checking account to cover whatever we buy.  I'll have to cash your checks on
Mattie's driver's license!  But that reminds me, you'd better go over to your
trailer and gather up whatever Molly left you and bring it over here.  Lila's
got a buyer for her old trailer and she's anxious to move into yours."

I sighed, remembering that I'd had to sign over my brand new luxuriously
equipped trailer to Lila as payment to her for...  for doing this to me!
Well, at least I could live at She Devil's.

"Hurry back!" She Devil called as I minced out the door, "I'm anxious to
discuss your new duties with you and see where you might fit into any of the
acts.  Also," she lowered her voice and one eyelid as she continued, "I just
can't wait to feel those plump sexy lips of yours on me again!"

Once again, I felt that ache in my between my legs.  But it was somehow
different now.  There was less of a sense of frustrated male longing in the
masculine organ beneath the false cover lately.  Whenever I was horny I now
felt hot and squirmy down there but, as long as that thing was sewn onto my
crotch, there wasn't a thing I could do about it!  My last few sessions with
She Devil had been like sweet agony as I writhed with desire for her.  She
interpreted it as increased passion on my part, and she would speak to me as
we made love, in that soft, lulling voice of hers that always made me feel so
relaxed and refreshed afterwards, although I could never remember what it was
that she said to me.  Those sessions were still delightful, even in my
current state, but for some reason it seemed I was becoming enthralled with
my present condition.

And there wasn't a thing I could do about it!

                               * * * * * *

I strutted across the brightly lighted arena, hearing the crowd murmur as
Lasha, the Whip Woman, stood by her rack of carefully measured, meticulously
arranged whips and eyed me carefully.

And I was quite an eyeful!.  For starters, there was a leather hood over my
head that laced tightly, outlining my features and form fitting my skull,
allowing just two slits for the eyes and a small black mesh near the mouth
for breathing.  Below this, I wore a specially designed black leather blouse,
one that lifted and emphasized my proud breasts while totally concealing
them, and nipped in my waist delightfully.

Below this was my skirt, also of black leather, ruffled and flaring playfully
out from my legs so that it covered me only down to about mid-thigh.

Then there were the thigh length black leather boots, bizarrely high heeled
and laced all the way up my shapely legs, a perfect match for the tight,
shoulder length black leather gloves that fit my arm like a second skin.  I
was a swaying, strutting, inky dream in black leather, and the crowd gasped
in anticipation as I carried my tray of drinks across the arena, on a course
that would cut directly in front of Lasha, standing ready only twenty feet
away.

*SNAP!*

The bottle was suddenly gone from my tray.  I kept walking.

*SNAP!*

One glass gone.

*SNAP!*

The other glass gone.

*SNAP! SNAP!*

Suddenly the tray was knocked from my hands and sent skimming crazily
overhead, only to be shattered into pieces like a clay pigeon by Lasha's
whip.  On cue, I froze and turned to look up at it.

*WWWHHHHAAACCCKKKK!!!!*

Like some incredibly swift, incredibly strong serpent, Lasha's whip had
coiled itself around my knees, snapping loudly but harmlessly on my leather
covered thigh.  In an instant, she had dropped it and was already sending
another one streaking out at me.  Remembering the instructions, I had raised
my hands to my ears as soon as the first whip had snapped.

*WWWAAAA----AAACCCKKKK!!!*

Lasha's second whip, even longer than the first, had wrapped itself around
head, pinning my leather covered palms to my ears, covering my eye slits so
that I could not see, and landing with a pain less but head ringing crack!

I stood there a moment, standing about prettily in my high heeled boots for
the appreciative crowd.  There wasn't much else I could do...  not with my
knees pinned together by the first whip and my arms forcibly upraised, hands
bound to my head by the second one!  I made what halting, stilted steps I
could, feeling my breasts and bottom sway as I tugged at my whip bonds,
sensing the swish of my leather skirt as I struggled in vain.

*WWHHHEEEWWWAAACCCKKK!!*

Another whip struck, this one just catching the top of my specially designed
leather skirt.  It broke away at the proper places and whisked off my now
naked hips, exposing my black bottom and feminine loins to the crowd.

*WWHHEEEEAAACCKKK!!*

A matching blow, right on the heels of the first, this one stripping my
specially constructed leather blouse from me, so that my gleaming dark torso
was now completely exposed, my bare breasts glistening with sweat, their
prominence magnified by the way my elbows were forcibly raised, my round
brown bottom jiggling helplessly above the tops of my thigh length leather
boots as I tried to mince around in my high heels, knee bound and totally
blind.

*SNAP!*SNAP!*SNAP* SNAP-SNAP!!*

Now came the most delicate part of Lasha's exhibition.  For she was whipping
me in public!  Her touch with the mean looking black snake was so skillful
that all I felt were mild stinging slaps as it cracked against my breasts,
back, and buttocks, but the noise, and my twisting, jerking movements must
have given the impression of an incredibly painful, merciless beating!

*C-C-C-R-R-A-A-A-C-C-K-K!!!*

The sound overhead was our prearranged signal for me to bend way over.  The
long, strong, imitation ponytai1 anchored to the top of my discipline helmet
now hung down in front of my shins and --

With a single deft stroke, Lasha bound my ponytail to my legs, keeping me
forcibly bent-over.

And now she started to work on my upturned buttocks in earnest.  Ouch!  That
was a little too realistic!  Ouch!  That one really stung!  Eeek!  Another
one!

Totally incapable of freeing myself, my knees pinioned together, my hands
bound to my head, and now my head bound to my legs, I hobbled forward as best
I could, trying to avoid those painful snaps of the whip, trying to keep from
falling over, trying to forget that I was letting everyone in the world watch
me, feminized, black, bound, and now beaten!

At last, it was over, and I was in the safety of our trailer once again,
curled up in She Devil's arms as she rubbed soothing ointment into my
inflamed butt.

"Ooooh!  I moaned.  "It was horrible.  Oh, She Devil, I can't do that again!
Ever!  I just can't go through with it!"

"There, there, Little Dark One," she cooed, easing the pain and my
humiliation.  "You won't have to!  The act really wasn't as exciting as I
thought it was going to be, anyway.  (There, there now.)  I guess there just
wasn't enough contrast between your skin and that black leather outfit to
provide enough visual impact.  It's a shame you had to spend so much money on
a custom made leather outfit that you can't use anymore, but that's all
right.  We'll just find something else for you to do.  For now, though, why
don't you come down here a moment...  that's right, right between my legs
Darling!  I cooled down your flaming bottom, now maybe you can kiss out my
fire, hmmm?"

It was almost instinctive of me now to go down on She Devil whenever she
asked.  It was like a hunger or a conditioned reflex.  Kneeling there between
her legs, I once again felt the frustrating ache of my own male urges,
confined for so long beneath this ersatz pussy.  But I also felt the tingle
of lesbian excitement in my breasts and loins, and I knew that somehow I must
do whatever she suggested.

                               * * * * * *

In the dark cubicle I crouched, ready to spring out the minute the buzzer
sounded.  Ready for action!  I was wearing a white, one piece bathing suit,
white knee stockings and tennis shoes, white rubber gloves, and, to top it
all off, a white rubber bathing cap, strapped tightly over my head.  "That
ought to be plenty of visual contrast, I told myself grimly as I waited for
the signal.

BUZZZZZZZZZZ!

The sound coincided with my door springing open and my nimble leap out into
the arena.  As the crowd applauded, I raced for the Safety Zone on the far
side of the field.  For this was an old fashioned Calf-Roping Contest.

And I was the Calf!

Well, it wasn't quite so old fashioned.  As I sped across the field, I heard
the dirt-bikes of the two Round-Up Girls roar into life as they devoured the
earth, charging towards me, their lariats coiling overhead.

But I was way ahead of them; almost there, in fact!  Just a few more yards.
I turned my head to see how far back they were.

Was that a mistake!  I almost froze in terror as I saw the powerful dirt-bike
barrelling down on me.  It was coming straight at me!  Panicking, I leaped
aside to avoid it, and fell face down in the sawdust.

WHOOM! It zoomed around me and I felt something close on my wrist:  A noose!

All at once I was being tugged back into the Round-Up Girls section.
Desperately, I pulled at the noose with my free hand, running forward to give
myself enough slack to loosen it and ...  there!....  pull free!

But not for long.  As I turned and raced towards the Safety Line, I heard the
roar of twin dirt bikes behind me once more.  Two lariats snaked out with
alarming precision and caught my wrists, one in the other!

And now the Round-Up Girls raced around me in a skillful serpentine, coiling
the strong white rope around and around, twisting my arms against my torso
and imprisoning them in yards of rope.

Suddenly GirI #1 was off her bike, holding both ends of the rope in her hands
and knotting them securely.  I noted with some embarrassment that my arms and
the coiled ropes were directly underneath my massive brown breasts, pushing
them out into even greater prominence.

But there was no time to worry about that now!  Girl #1 had reached quickly
down to my ankle and lifted, tipping me neatly off my feet.  I gasped as I
hit the sawdust, only to see that she was securing another loop around my
ankle !

I kicked!  I twisted!  I squirmed!  But it was all to no avail.  Before I
could do anything about it, Girl #1 had my leg bent and my ankle secured to a
loop of rope at my wrist.  And she was starting on my other ankle!

I struggled even harder this time, but with even less result.  In no time at
all, my second ankle was secured behind my back, both knees bent sharply, and
my upper body secured in a cocoon of white rope.

But they weren't finished yet by a long shot!  Smiling mockingly down at me,
Girl #1 forced another strand of rope between my lips and pulled, bending my
head sharply backwards as she secured the ends of this one to my back, down
near my shoulder blades.

And then I felt myself being lifted into standing position-- standing on my
knees, that is!  Girl #1 was holding me upright with one hand and flicking my
bottom with a riding quirt held in the other, urging me to march forward on
my knees as best I could.  With my arms pinioned, ankles tied to my waist,
mouth open and head bent way back, there was nothing I could do to resist her
commands.  Dutifully, I turned this way and that so.  she could show me off
to the audience, and even when Girl #2 ripped my bathing suit from me, there
was nothing I could do about it except blush even harder as the smiling girls
displayed my black skinned, rope wrapped, feminine charms to the hot eyed men
in the stands.

                               * * * * * *

"It's no good." I heard Girl #1 mutter as they carried me off.  "She's just
not fast enough to give us any challenge!"

"Oh well," Girl #2 sighed philosophlcally.  "I suppose She Devil will find
something for her to do!"

"Now Martin," She Devil lectured as I sat, miserably naked, on the chair in
Lila's trailer (which used to be my trailer!)  while Lila soldered the last
of the copper coils around my neck.  "I know this maybe isn't what you would
have chosen to do...  if you had a choice, that is!  But it's really the only
thing for you now, and since we spent every last penny of your money buying
the equipment for this thing, the best thing for you to do is reconcile
yourself to it and try to make the best of it!"

"It won't be so bad," Lila encouraged, the bright patterns on her skin a
kaleidoscope behind me.  "After all, your set is very nicely equipped, these
rings are rounded and loose enough to be comfortable, and that thingamajig I
wired into your front teeth can be removed by any competent dentist in only
an hour or so.

"That's right," She Devil chimed in.  "And don't forget the post-hypnotic
treatments I've given you to help you through your routine!  You might even
end up enjoying this!"

"All finished!" Lila proclaimed.  "Take a look at the New You, Martin!"

Nervously, I forced myself up off the chair and over to the mirror, my arms
crossed shyly over my naked brown feminine body.  That was one thing She
Devil had done:  her post-hypnotic suggestions had made me super modest, and
even here, in the privacy of a trailer with two other women, I felt like
melting into one huge blush of embarrassment over my naked ebony tits and ass
and the uncovered expanse of smooth brown legs that I kept shifting in a
futile attempt to the conceal the artificial, but very real looking, vagina
that nestled between them.  But the face I saw in the mirror, even though I
had been expecting it, was even worse!

Starting at the top, my hair, treated somehow so that it was now coarse and
black, had been braided into neat corn rows and laced with beads in
intriguing patterns.  Next, my neck, from shoulders to chin, had been
encircled with bands of shiny copper, soldered at the back, of graduated
widths, wide at the bottom and narrowing towards the top to give my neck an
elongated look.  But most startling of all, some sort of rigid objects had
been tucked in front of my gums, wired to my teeth, and somehow fused to my
lips forcing them to protrude in a bizarre, duck-like fashion.  Just like the
women in primitive African Tribes used to look in National Geographic!

My reflection showed that more had been done to my nose.  It was now flat,
very broad, and upturned.  Any observers view would be drawn to it by the
prominent gold hoop dangling from my nostrils, that obviously pierced my
septum.  Now when had that been put there?

My unbelieving eyes took in the whole strangely sensuous sight.  For despite
its peculiar appearance, my face was somehow undeniably erotic!  The
aboriginal cast of my reconstructed countenance seemed to agree with the
femaleness of the rest of me.  I was reminded for a moment of the diaries of
early African explorers, in which they speak of the almost surreal beauty of
the native women and, looking at myself now, I understood for the first time
what they were talking about:  I was totally unrecognizable, more animal than
human.  Yet I was also incredibly feminine and sexy.  The nervous, trembling,
doe-like shyness that She Devil had induced in my deportment and mannerisms
only complemented the impression!

I looked away from the totally transformed creature in the mirror and tried
to tell the girls that I couldn't, under any circumstances, go through with
this!

"Uhmooga moo!" I said, "Mmmughamugha!" The stiff slats that stretched out my
lips clicked when I tried to speak.

"Calm down now Martin," She Devil patted my naked mahogany fanny, bottom
causing me to start nervously.  "You know you can't be understood with that
thing wired in your mouth!  Now let's hurry out to your set.  I'm supposed to
interview a new contortionist in a few minutes and I want to make sure you're
all taken care of before the show.  Come on now, scoot!"

Positively dying of embarrassment, I allowed them to push me out the door of
the trailer into the mercifully dark night.  I scampered desperately across
the grounds towards my set.  It was awful, having to run stark naked through
the night like that.  I raised my knees high, scissoring my shapely brown
legs as fast as I could, my hands fanned out in front of me for just a little
protection from all the eyes that I sensed on me.  With each step, I felt my
nude bottom sway from side to side while my bare breasts bounced shamefully
in front of me until at last I reached the dubious safety of my set.

Ah yes, my "set".  This was circus talk for the background, props, or
theatrical settings that were used by the various performers to make their
acts more dramatic and convincing.

Mine was a cage.

I slipped in through an opening in the 4x4x6 foot square cage.  It was made
of iron bars mounted on a two foot high elevated platform.  She Devil then
locked the door behind me so that I wouldn't have to worry about anyone else
getting in.  I crouched in a corner with my hands in front of me and looked
around at my new home.

It was quite elaborate.  For a cage that is!  The fresh straw on the floor
covered the lid of a portable toilet, and there was a shower mounted in the
ceiling complete with a propane hot water tank, so at least I'd be able to
keep myself clean.  That was very important to the customers.

There were also lights and speakers mounted in the ceiling, to keep me well
illuminated, and speakers that kept whispering something at a subliminal
level that I could never quite hear.  They could also be made to play music
that...  but I'll tell you about that later.  For now I just sat there
quietly melting with shame as She Devil wished me luck.

"I just know you'll be a hit with the crowd tonight!" She smiled, "Well, I
gotta run and open the gates and see about that new girl.  Later on tonight,
after everyone's gone, I'll let you out and you can come back to our trailer
to sleep.  Bye now!"

And she was gone.  Leaving me alone.  In a cage.  Planted right inside the
gate that led to the arena, where all the curious and horny men and women
would be passing by.  Attached to the platform on which my cage was mounted,
there were free condom dispensers, and a little switch to turn the music on.
Above this switch there was a short massage about how women of my primitive
tribe had been conditioned to respond to a drum beat during fertility rites,
and how the men of the jungle lured us out of the forests with these drums.
Over my head, there was another sign.  It read:

    JUNGLE CAPTIVE WILD WOMAN!

As the well dressed men and women began to trickle in, I crouched there, eyes
wide, trembling, arms crossed tightly over my humiliating nude brown body.
They stopped to stare.  And comment:

"Look at that...  Check those tits:...  Disgusting, if you ask me!  This from
a lady with long legs and a rather small bosom.  Come around here and look at
this ass!"

"Why, she's nothing more than an animal!"

"I dunno:  See those lips?  I'll bet she could suck the chrome off a bumper
hitch!"

"Poke her with your stick, Lloyd, and see if she'll move.  Wow!  look at her
jump!

"Did you see those bazongas bounce?"

"She moves like a deer!"

There was quite a crowd around me now, admiring my shamefully naked body and
speculating on my sexual prowess.  A couple of the bolder men, urged on by
their tipsy friends, opened their flies, and I recoiled in horror as I
watched them slip rubbers over stiff cocks.  Then someone flipped the music
switch, and the speaker started drumming out a rhythmic, syncopated,
Africanized version of "Bolero".  I felt She Devil's post hypnotic suggestion
trigger my subconscious.

Suddenly all I could think of was getting at those cocks!

I crawled on my knees, thrusting my body up to the bars, pressing my erect
nipples against the cold metal and rubbing my imitation vagina suggestively
up and down the bars of my cell.  Then, on inspiration, I worked myself into
a corner so that I could press my bare ass out one side and my extended lips
out the other.  The whole crowd laughed at my antics, but I didn't care, I
just had to feel those cocks inside me!

At one point I knelt there, utilizing the artificial vagina in a pretty good
imitation of a real one, getting fucked by, what felt like, a rather large
cock.  I wondered at how the customer could fit it in the artificial pussy
and, once there, not be able to tell the difference.  I puzzled over the
sensations that seemed to be emanating from my fake feamle sex organs.  How
was it that I seemed to be able to feel that hard penis inside me and how
could it be possible for a rubber pussy to feel moist and hot.  I didn't
wonder about these things for long though.  A condom covered cock presented
itself in front of my face and it might as well have been a chocolate covered
cherry.  I took it between my stretched and fleshy lips.  I savored the
sensation as I forced the head down my throat.  All I could think about was
how much I wanted, no!, how much I needed cock.

Much later.  All the customers were gone and I was once again shyly crouched
in my cage, humiliated and aching.  She Devil approached, smiling warmly.

"Well, I must say, Martin," she sparkled, "You were a real sensation tonight!
Whew, what a smell!  Go ahead and shower off and I'll be back in a little
while to release you.  I have to arrange things a little more with that
contortionist.  Rubber Rita, she calls herself, and it sure fits!  But
anyway, get yourself all cleaned up, like a good girl, and I'll come and get
you.  I know you probably don't feel like sex again tonight, but I thought it
might be kind of nice to have you suck my toes while I watch TV and play with
myself!  Well, see you later!

Weeks went by.  Or was it Months?  It seemed I was losing track of time
lately.

And so was She Devil!  She should have let me out of this cage hours ago!
But she's been spending so much time lately with Rubber Rita that I...  Well,
the more time those two are together, the more time I spend stuck, naked in
this cage taking handouts of food from any girls who, happen to pass by, and
trying to hide my shameful nudity at the same time.  Oh, I wished she'd get
here and let me out of this, so I could at least hide in her trailer and put
a towel or something over these big, brown, female curves!  Where was she?

Huddled there in my little cage, between the trailers, I looked around once
more for something else to think about to pass the time.  Anything was better
than just sitting around in this pile of straw!  Rita's trailer was on one
side of me, and I thought I heard the sound of someone going in, through the
open window on my side.  Yes!  There were two women talking.  And one of them
was She Devil!  What was she saying?

And then the Round-Up Girls, on the other side of me, came in and turned on
their television.  Their trailer was situated so that I could see the program
they were watching as well as hear it.  It was something called Lifestyles of
the Filthy Rich, and the loud drone of the announcer's voice drowned out the
conversation from Rita's trailer, so that I could only catch snatches of it
when he paused.

"...  look lovely tonight, She Devil!  I just can't resist the sight of you
this way!  But tell me about..."

"Tonight we'll be talking with molly howard, in her fabulous
east-coast mansion! But it wasn't always fine furs and elegant
restaurants for our Molly! For years she worked in a circus, an orphan
abandoned at birth!"


"...  Martin?  I call him Mwumba now!  Kind of fits, doesn't it?  And I
didn't find him, Rita Darling, I made him what he is!  Would you believe he
used to be just another ...

"Man-handling tigers was just one of Molly's job until she was
discovered as the long lost daughter of dying billionaire Hubert
Howard! With the death of her cousin Martin Howard, and the
disappearance of her other cousin, Roderick Howard, presumed lost in a
boating accident in florida, Molly Became the sole heiress to the
Howard fortune! And how she enjoys it'."

"...  didn't take me long to get inside his mind and find out what he had
planned!  At first I thought it'd be enough just to change his sex and turn
him into a lesbian, but the more I thought about how he planned to rob poor
....

"Molly's days are filled now with the animal conservation activities
that are so important to her!  Her nights are filled with heavy dates
at New York's poshest nightclubs. Always on the arm of some wealthy
and eligible bachelor! And how does she dress for these dates?"

...  that interfering cousin of his was a stroke of perfect luck!  I'd have
done it to him anyway, of course, but this made it much easier for me to do
to him what he planned to do Molly!  Plus a little something..."

Large closets in her sumptuous barely contain the vast array of
fashionable clothing that Molly now luxuriates in! Gowns! Dresses!
Skirts! Coats! The most expensive of delicate lingerie!  Stockings and
thousands of shoes all cover her wealthy body now!"

"...when I look at him out there now, locked up forever in that tiny cage,
totally feminine, completely changed, why he can't even..."

"Talk to Molly about her penniless past and she is sure to change the
subject! This modern day cinderella prefers to spend her time
discussing her new line of high fashion clothing! Shel even gave us an
impromptu fashion show!"

"...ing off his hot black body to the rubes.  Which, by the way, is the only
thing he has left in the world.  I've arranged things so that he's lost all
his money, his cars, clothes, houses, even his very sex and identity!  Get
this, he still believes that he's wearing a glued on reproduction vagina and
that someday we'll just remove it, wash off his skin dye, and he can go on
his merry way.  HA! Do I have some news for him!  His transformation was
comprehensive and PERMANENT! He's nothing but a little black bitch now and
there's no way he'll ever be anything else."

"Not only that!  But do you know what?"

"No, do tell."

"Every now and then we knock him out and add another ring around his neck and
expand the inserts in his lips.  It's gradual, and in his state he never
notices it as his neck and lips stretch just a teeny bit more to accommodate
them.  He's already way beyond where he was at the start of his devolution
into a native beauty and the effects are cumulative.  Soon he'll be a freak
with neck like a giraffe and lips like a duckbill platypus.  Why, by the time
I let him out, he won't even be human any more!  Just a caged up, sex hungry,
little...

"Animals are her other passion, and Molly insisted on showing us her
private zoo, where exotic animals are caged in regal comfort! Molly
takes care of their every need.!

"...  you now!  Forget Martin, I'm going to sell him the next time we're in
New York!  It's you I want.  Come over ...

"Here we left Molly Howard, comfortably ensconced in hedonistic luxury
on her fabulous estate, far, far from her humble beginnings! This
little lady has had all the luck!"

The Round-Up Girls closed their window against the cooling night air, leaving
me with the sounds of passionate lesbian pleasuring from Rita's trailer as my
only distraction from my circumstances.  I looked around at my tiny cage,
knowing that, even if I could get out, She Devil's hypnotic treatments had
left me too shy and modest to have the courage to try to escape.  With a
sigh, I huddled down further in my clean straw and hugged my embarrassingly
exposed black woman's body a little tighter for protection against the cold,
naked night ahead.

FIN