From alt.sex.stories.tg Mon Jun 10 00:18:58 1996 Path: mordred.cc.jyu.fi!news.funet.fi!news.eunet.fi!EU.net!howland.reston.ans.net!newsfeed.internetmci.com!in1.uu.net!news.i-link.net!usenet From: LabRat@i-link.net (Karen Mitchell) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.tg Subject: Story - Warhell - Parts 1-4 Date: Fri, 07 Jun 1996 21:32:09 -0500 Organization: I-Link Lines: 333 Message-ID: <pYOuxY5faJdX090yn@i-link.net> Reply-To: LabRat@i-link.net (Karen Mitchell) NNTP-Posting-Host: austin-1-2.i-link.net Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=ISO-8859-1 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit I did not write this and you must be 18 or over to read it as it may contain a great deal of adult explicit sexuality. If this is offensive do not read - delete file. For those of us who enjoy .... enjoy! Please do not ask for files by e-mail - I can barely keep up with what I have now. ***From FEMINET, Felton CA 408-335-4387 or 408-335-7888 Shotdown Chapter 1 bhs 8/91 The pain, excruciating, unrelenting pain. I was flying in an A4 over a country called Iraq. Having successfully annihilated a suspected supply depot, I was returning to a strip of desert that had almost magically become the 4th largest airport in the world when a stray fragment from a "friendly" ground to air missile pierced my aircraft. Ripping through the underside of the fuselage, the fragment continued upward through the cockpit and through my manhood. Somehow I managed to land the injured bird, screaming into my mic for assistance. An efficient team extricated me from the cockpit, slicing through my flight suit and covering my exposed crotch with pressure bandages. Mercifully I passed out. Waking to the unmistakable smells and sounds of a hospital, I sensed that all was not right. A grim faced team of medical personnel surrounded my reclining form. "Captain Lewis, can you hear me?" "You are at base evac and we are going to fly you to Germany for treatment." "Your condition is not terminal, however we lack the necessary equipment and specialists to properly treat your injuries." "Your wife has been notified and she'll join you there." Nodding, my thoughts turned to Lisa, married less than 2 years, she was the undeniable love of my life. Petite and so feminine, her makeup and hair always perfect, even after the wildest sex or a full day of housework. She never criticized my slight build or my peach fuzz beard, I was her warrior, her knight in shining armor and she was my princess. Snapping back to reality, I asked, in classic Hollywood fashion, "How bad is it doc?" "You've been shot in a place that we all love to joke about but all fear the most, we've stopped the hemorrhaging, stabilized your electrolytes and are sending you to a hospital equipped with the finest specialists. Uncle Sam takes care of his heros." With that I was sedated, wheeled into an awaiting transport and flown to Weisbaden. the flight was uneventful, the attending staff kept me sufficiently drugged, the drug induced stupor preventing me from dwelling on the events of the past 12 hours. Arriving in Germany, I was offloaded and trucked to the base hospital. Another group of medical personnel gathered around me to poke, prod, confer, and examine. "What's the prognosis doctor and where's my wife, I was told she would be here." "Relax Captain, the prognosis is that you will need to undergo reconstructive surgery and your wife is currently waiting in the foyer until we complete our examination." "Reconstructive surgery", I queried, "In simple English you are telling me that my dick has been shot off!" "Unfortunately the tissue damage is severe enough to prevent us from restoring you to your former level of functionality, however there are several options." "Our staff psychologist has already discussed these options with your wife and we will meet this afternoon, after you've had a chance to discuss the alternatives with your spouse and decide on a course of action." With that he abruptly turned, gathering his entourage, and left the room. Lisa entered, evidence of tears had been unsuccessfully masked with heavier than normal makeup, but to my eyes she was lovelier than ever. Dressed in an attractive blouse and skirt, nylons, and black mid-sized heels, she ran to my side and embraced me. "My brave warrior" she said with only the slightest quaver in her voice. "My princess", I replied, "I guess I broke my promise to return safe and sound to you." "As long as you're still breathing, I have everything I want in this world", she comforted. "Well it appears that I don't quite have everything I want in this world." We both glanced toward my groin and hurriedly looked away. "I hear that the staff psychologist has had a chat with you. Obviously you've been selected as the unfortunate that has to discuss my options and I need to know where I stand and what the future holds." An awkward pause preceded her response, "Larry, they can't surgically repair your penis, the damage is too extensive. Furthermore, current protheses are typically nonfunctional and unwieldy, to cut to the chase, the physicians are recommending SRS, sexual reassignment surgery. Essentially, you will emerge from the procedure with the genitalia and outward appearance of a female. I want you to know that I love you and will always love you either as husband and wife or as sister and sister." With that we both collapsed into tears.............. WARHELL Chapter 2 bhs 8/91 by Rebecca Scott An 8 hour demerol induced stupor followed the discussion with my bride regarding my present circumstance, my options for the future, and the seeming injustice and embarrassment I had been subjected to. Heart shattering images haunted my psyche, should I elect to accept the SRS, how would my parents and loved ones accept me? What would be the impact to my relationship with my wife...would she become my "sister", my lesbian lover, a chapter in my past? My introspection was abruptly interrupted by the intrusion of the now familiar staff of medical personnel. "Captain Lewis, we must have a decision as to how to proceed." "As you know, we can perform the SRS, allowing you to perform and appear as a normal female, should this prove unacceptable, your alternative would be that of an emasculated male, unable to function, essentially a eunuch." "The surgery is quite refined, we take the shattered remains of you penile tissue and fashion a working vagina." "Additional procedures will reduce the protrusion of your adam's apple, shorten your vocal cords to heighten your voice, plastic surgery to feminize your cheeks and jawline, and should hormone therapy prove insufficient, breast and hip augmentation, electrolysis will permanently remove your masculine hair." "The procedure is lengthy and painful, however in the opinion of the medical staff, this is clearly the most logical and appropriate course of action." With wrenching emotion, I concurred with the assembled medical staff. "Continue with the procedures, however you must tell those that I love that the operation was unsuccessful and that I died during surgery." "I cannot and will not subject those that I love to the humiliation and remorse that I feel." "As of this moment I've stopped being what I was and will undergo a metamorphosis into the creature that you will create." "I will emerge as the female that God must have intended me to become, but the circumstances leading to this change must be forever hidden." I broke down into tears, uncertain of my future, frightened at the changes about to befall me, heartsick over the reaction of those I so dearly loved. A faceless nurse injected me and I lapsed gratefully into unconsciousness. A technically challenging and lengthy procedure was performed on my mangled body. A team of surgeons created a virtually perfect copy of a female vagina. The tissue that formerly was my scrotum was fashoned into realistic labia. The tissue I used to refer to as my penis was stripped, inverted and attached as my new vagina. My urethra was repositioned, giving my urine a female trajectory. Implants in my cheeks and reduction of my jawline softened my face into a feminine form. Silicone gel implants rounded my hips and buttocks and augmented my breasts. Satisfied with their craftsmanship, I was bandaged, and wheeled to a private recovery area, my journey to femininity ahead of me............. Warhell Part 3 bhs 8/91 by Rebecca Scott I awoke. Strange bodily sensations commanded my attention. An uncomfortable weight on my chest -- sticking bandages on my face and cheeks -- an indescribable numbness between my legs. And the feeling that someone was holding my hand. I looked over to see Lisa, the stress clearly exhibited in her otherwise beautiful countenance, sitting close to my bedside. Hoarse, with a voice that seemed strained I whispered, "I told them to tell you I'd died!" "I know, and they did, but in my heart I know that nothing could kill my brave warrior." "I knew that you-- that we would survive." "Am I -- well you know -- did they..." "Yes my love, my warrior has had some remarkable changes but together we will put our lives back together and continue on." she comforted. " The doctors expect that you will need about 6 days of recovery, then we will fly home together and begin rebuilding what that rocket changed." The Navy has offered you a commission in the WAVES and will still permit you to fly your beloved jets." "I will be by you forever, helping, teaching, supporting you in every way." Tears marked both our faces as she knelt and gently caressed my bandaged cheek. "Rest now my love, I'll be back tomorrow and we will begin to plan our future." Lisa rose and left the room, leaving me to contemplate my horrifying situation. One day Navy fighter jock, the next Christine Jorgensen the 2nd. Struggling to right myself, I began to take inventory. Chest protruding and heavily bandaged, legs splayed apart with a tangle of tubing exiting a bandaged crotch. My wildest imagination could not adequately form a mental picture of me with a vagina and breasts. Sleep came fitfully, nightmares of monumental proportions wreaked havoc on my psyche. I dreamed of myself as a hooker, a waitress, even pregnant! Morning came, and the entourage of doctors, nurses, the curious, and the disinterested filled my room in a never ending procession. The professional staff incessantly remarked at my excellent progress while congratulating themselves on a most innovative solution to a difficult problem. Medication and the blessed shock of still not realizing the magnitude of my circumstance mitigated the embarrassment and confusion I felt. Lisa dutifully visited chatting about a plethora of topics, all unrelated to the situation at hand. Another restless night was interrupted by the chief surgeon and several of his minions waking me. "Today Captain Lewis we are going to remove the bandages on your chest, throat, and face." "Please remember that there will be substantial bruising, and that the surgery to shorten your vocal cords will make speaking painful and difficult for several more days." Removal of the bandages was more irritating than painful. As soon as my chest was released, I moved my hands to cup two firm, although extremely tender female breasts jutting from my formerly planar physique. Obviously the shock was more than I could handle as my next recollection was that of Lisa, once again holding my hand in a now darkened room. " Have you seen them?", I whispered gesturing toward my chest. "Yes my love and you have a very attractive pair, firmer and more nicely shaped than mine." "But Lisa, I wasn't born with these, it all seems so foreign, so immoral." "I wasn't born with mine either, however I must admit that yours appeared in a much shorter time." She smiled the smile the melted my heart some two years ago and I couldn't help from feeling somewhat better. The following days were filled with the standard prodding, poking, and examining so dear to the medical community in the early morning and my afternoons were filled with a torture known as electrolysis. Each day at precisely 1:00 P.M a sour faced matron armed with a vicious device terminating in a needle would subject my sparse beard and chest hair to a 6 hour series of hair removal. Her comments were short, excepting when she complimented herself on how rapidly the treatment was progressing and that I would be smooth as a baby's bottom by the end of the week. Day four proved to be the most humiliating and frightening day of my stay. The morning started with the announcement that the bandages covering my new (or perhaps lack of) equipment would be removed. Following removal of the science fiction collection of tubes, catheters and bandages, it was announced that I was to be dilated. The chief physician produced what could only be described as a long dildo, liberally coated it with K-Y jelly and proceeded to insert it into my formerly virgin orifice. The pain was unbelievable. My newly high-pitched voice screamed as in pain, I felt as if I were being split in half. I squirmed and cried and begged them to stop this torture. "Captain, I know this is quite painful the first time, however let me assure you that it is quite necessary to insure future functionality of you sexual organ." "You will need to perform this procedure twice a day for the ensuing six months, let me assure you that soon it will be more pleasure than pain." Removing the hated device he left me to my thoughts. The pain in my vagina was starting to lessen, prompting me to explore the opening in my legs. Soft, tender labia surrounded a moist slit. Withdrawing my hand in disgust, I left further examination to a later date. Lisa entered the room and asked if I needed any assistance. "With the catheter removed you will have to either use the bedpan or get up to answer nature's call, however by now you must know that the days of standing to pee are over." "I believe that I would like to try and get up, I've been flat on my back for more than a week and I would really like to examine myself in the floor length mirror." "Will you help me Lisa?" "Of course my darling, however you must be prepared as there is much about you that has changed and you must accept these changes and adapt." With the accompanying dizziness from being bedridden for so long and my changed center of gravity hindering me, I managed to right myself and take several tenuous steps. Turning toward the mirror I opened the front of my hospital gown and reeled from the shock of a nude woman with my face staring back at me. Pert, firm breasts, wider hips, and normal appearing female genitalia defined the illusion in the mirror. "I've seen enough.", I announced closing the gown and heading back to the sanctuary of the hospital bed. The remainder of the week fell into the routine of electrolysis and dilation. Finally the day for my release from the hospital arrived. Wakened early, I was given a through examination and handed a huge document detailing the procedures I was to follow in the coming weeks. Lisa entered the room bearing several shopping bags. "I bought you some clothes to wear to the hotel and we'll buy some more for the trip back to the States....... Warhell Part 4 bhs 9/91 by Rebecca Scott .....Lisa opened the first bag and removed a bra and pair of panties. "Those aren't for me!" I cried. "Of course they are dear, you will need to adjust to your new role and in that role these are the undergarments you will need to wear." "Additionally the bra will give you welcome support to your still tender breasts." Reluctantly I slipped the panties over my significantly wider hips, pulling them snugly against my new labia. The sensation was foreign but not uncomfortable, as the light blue satin material was remarkably soft and light. Next came the bra, another delicate garment, fashioned out of the same blue satin. Struggling, I tried to remember how Lisa put her brassiere on but found myself with the cups above my breasts, my arms through the straps, unable to snap the back or adjust the front. Without adding to my discomfort, Lisa gently showed me how to lengthen the straps and guided me on the correct procedure. "Turn it around backwards and fasten the hooks on the back strap, then rotate it around, place your arms through the shoulder straps and lift the cups over your breasts." she instructed. Having completed that ordeal, I was then handed a pair of designer jeans with small bows about 3" from the cuffs, and an attractive pullover sweater with lace trim around the collar. Finishing my ensemble was a pair of socks that looked like nylons and a pair of low wedge women's shoes. I looked in the adjacent mirror and was surprised to see a rather attractive, casually dressed woman looking back at me, my GI haircut seemed remarkably out of place on the person in the mirror. "See dear, it's not so bad, you are quite attractive, you are still alive, and 51% of the population copes with this "condition" everyday of their lives." Lisa said, breaking my reverie. "I bought you some casual things and we will gradually indoctrinate you into dresses and heels and all sorts of wonderful feminine clothes." "No damned way am I ever wearing a dress!", I exploded. Then seeing the hurt look on Lisa's face I realized that this was tough on her as well, her husband shot down, emasculated, and now raging at her when she was only trying to support the one she loved as best she knew how. "I'm sorry my love, of course we will continue with my transformation, I guess I'm just a little overwhelmed." Smiling again, Lisa beckoned me to sit down in front of a small desk in my room. "Reaching into the seemingly bottomless shopping bag she removed several bottles, tubes and brushes. Placing them on the table in front of me she said "Now don't loose control, I'm simply going to apply a slight amount of makeup, a proper lady would not want to go out with her face naked." With that she proceeded to apply a light foundation that complimented my fair complexion. Powder, blush, eyeshadow, liner, and mascara followed in rapid succession, the odd sensations and odors left me feeling quite uncomfortable yet somehow excited. She continued her labor by affixing two tiny pearl clip earrings on my earlobes, and placing a softly curled short blonde wig over my short hair. "You won't need the wig for long, I know that it is uncomfortable but when you see the benefit I am sure you'll agree it's necessary." She then held up a necklace of two hearts intertwined held on a delicate gold chain. "These are our hearts my love, we shall always be together." With tears welling up in both our eyes she fastened the chain around my neck, kissed me softly, and handed me a ring. An exact duplicate of the wedding ring I gave to her, what seemed another lifetime ago laid in my palm. Choked with emotion I slipped in on my ring finger. Next: Debut I did not write this and you must be 18 or over to read it as it may contain a great deal of adult explicit sexuality. There is also a skip in this series - I don't have part 5. Look for parts 6 and 7 coming up. From alt.sex.stories.tg Mon Jun 10 00:19:00 1996 Path: mordred.cc.jyu.fi!news.csc.fi!news.eunet.fi!EU.net!howland.reston.ans.net!newsfeed.internetmci.com!in1.uu.net!news.i-link.net!usenet ~From: LabRat@i-link.net (Karen Mitchell) ~Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.tg ~Subject: Story - Warhell - Parts 6&7 ~Date: Fri, 07 Jun 1996 21:37:36 -0500 Organization: I-Link ~Lines: 174 Message-ID: <wdOuxY5faxjX090yn@i-link.net> ~Reply-To: LabRat@i-link.net (Karen Mitchell) NNTP-Posting-Host: austin-1-2.i-link.net Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=ISO-8859-1 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit I did not write this and you must be 18 or over to read it as it may contain a great deal of adult explicit sexuality. If this is offensive do not read - delete file. For those of us who enjoy .... enjoy! Please do not ask for files by e-mail - I can barely keep up with what I have now. Warhell part 6 9/91 by Rebecca Scott Waking, I rolled over, the protrusions of my breasts reminding me of the events of the past weeks. The cream colored, lacey nightgown provided me by my spouse provided additional reinforcement that I was not mommies's little boy anymore. "Wake up", Lisa commanded. "Today is the first official day of our new life and we are going to make the most of it!" Groaning in a most unfeminine manner I swung my cleanly shaven legs over the side of the bed and headed for the bathroom to eliminate some of the previous night's champagne from my system. Sitting on the toilet (a posture that still required cognizant effort as I only had to pee), I released a stream into the bowl, gingerly wiped my new genitalia, and exited to find Lisa already clothed in an attractive navy suit, nylons and matching heels. "Dilation for 20 minutes, breakfast in the room, your introduction to wearing a dress and makeup and a shopping excursion are the orders of the day." she extolled. "Lisa, GODDAMNIT....", I started but was promptly interrupted. "Just get to it.", she stormed, "I am trying my best to be supportive and loving and I am not about to tolerate this crap." Somewhat taken aback at her tone I grabbed my "friend" the dildo and retired to the bedroom to begin the self-induced torture of widening my new vagina. Inserting the wretched device, I massaged and enlarged my new opening. Following 20 minutes of tears and discomfort, I emerged and waited for further direction. "Here is the outfit I've purchased for your first official day as a female." Lisa stated as she pointed to a collection of garments displayed on the sofa. I crossed the room and gazed upon an attractive lavender above the knee dress, matching lavender panty hose, a cream colored bikini panty and bra set, a delicate lacey slip, and a pair of 2" D'Orsey strap heels in a matching shade of light purple. Mindful of the earlier rebuff, I decided not to object and dress myself in the awaiting garments. Struggling with the bra, I successfully managed to attire myself in Lisa's ensemble. The lavender hose felt slick and smooth against my hairless legs, the slip caressing my expanded hips. Stepping into the shoes presented an entire new feeling-- one of restraint of movement--if you will, one of subservience. Satisfied with my performance, Lisa beckoned me to the dresser. Sitting, I was subjected to a fitting and styling of my blonde wig, the application of a multitude of potions and lotions-- foundation, powder, blush, eyeliner, two complimentary shades of shadow, mascara, lip gloss and a light spritz of Channel. Glancing in the mirror, I found myself in awe of the attractive young woman peering back at me. My reverie was broken by a knock at the door of our suite and the announcement of "room service". "Be a dear and get that.", Lisa requested as she strode toward the bathroom. Mortified, I unsteadily went to answer the door, conscious of my heels, my dress, my makeup, my breasts, the absence of my penis, I opened the door. "Breakfast for two.", announced the waiter as he wheeled a covered tray into the room. Without a second glance, the waiter positioned the cart in our suite and left. Amazed at the fact that the waiter didn't immediately scream faggot at me and ran away laughing, Lisa and I settled down to a breakfast fit for a king, or perhaps a couple of queens. "We're going shopping this morning.", Lisa stated between mouthfuls of the most delicious strudel. "I am going to indoctrinate you into a female institution, which will afford you the opportunity to refine your feminine posture and demeanor." Although I was admittedly reluctant to undertake such a journey, I could not help but feel a since of anticipation and desire for the upcoming trip. Excusing herself, lisa went to the ladies room leaving me to reflect on my current condition. Emasculated, having breakfast with my wife in a German hotel, dressed to kill in tasteful, feminine fashion, and preparing to go on a shopping trip......I was simply overwhelmed. Warhell ........Part 7 ............................bhs 9/91 by Rebecca Scott Lisa exited the restroom and motioned to me that it was time to go. With a lump of apprehension in my throat, I headed for the door only to be stopped by Lisa's voice. "A lady NEEDS her purse.", she stated, handing me a black leather purse with an attached shoulder strap. Opening the bag I found my military ID card, a couple of credit cards bearing the name Linda Lewis, some various containers of makeup, a hair brush, and shockingly-- two tampons. Sensing my consternation, Linda informed me that a girl needs to be prepared. With that we left the hotel and headed for a busy downtown shopping area. The unfamiliarity of my new attire-- the unsteadiness I experienced from the heels-- the feeling of the early morning breeze blowing up my dress all combined to exacerbate my insecurity in my new role. As we walked toward the shopping area, Lisa kept up a constant banter of suggestions -- take smaller more feminine steps, don't swing your arms like a jogger, and (catching me eyeing a passerby in outrageous heels and a spandex mini); ladies do not normally drool when they see another lady! Finally after what seemed like miles in the unaccustomed garb (although actually only 3 blocks), we arrived at our first stop. Entering the shop, I was overwhelmed at the display of ladies underwear. All manner of corsets, bras, panties, nightgowns, slips, teddies, and camisoles decorated the confines of the store. Unsure of what to do, I allowed Lisa to conduct the expedition. Approaching one of the salesladies, she explained that all of my clothes had been lost by the airlines and that I needed a complete new wardrobe of foundation garments and lingerie. Beaming at the prospect of a large sale, the sales girl guided me through a whirlwind tour of the intricacies of shopping. I was measured, examined and ushered repeatedly into dressing rooms to try on and model a plethora of feminine finery. After parting with more than $700.00, Lisa and I left the shop burdened with 10 bras in various colors and styles, 20 pairs of lacey panties, 2 slips, 2 teddies (one a shocking pink), 3 garter belts, 10 pairs of stockings and another 10 pair of panty hose in styles and colors I had not known were available (seamed, fishnet, sheer, support, silky, shiny, a rainbow of colors) , and a wicked looking Victorian corset with extreme boning and laces extending the length of the back. Our next stop was a shoe store. Sitting in a rather uncomfortable chair, I was attended to by a young man that seemed to spend half his time attending to my shoe purchases and the other half staring at my breasts. I was obliged to model wedgies, pumps with heels that literally seemed impossible to walk in, boots that ranged from ankle to thigh in height, and open-toed sandals with obscenely high heels. Lisa orchestrated the constant parade of footwear placed at my disposal and following her recommendation, I found myself signing another credit card slip for more than $800.00 and was further burdened by a pair of 5" ankle strap pumps, two pair of the stiletto heeled open-toed sandals, two pair of 3" black pumps (which she referred to as 'duty shoes'), a pink pair of ballet slippers, a mid-calf pair of high-heeled boots and an unbelievable pair of thigh-high boots with 6" heels that I had pleaded I could never successfully walk in after nearly falling on my face in the store. Laden with the mornings purchases, Lisa suggested that we return to the hotel, unload my packages and continue our shopping after lunch. Gratefully I agreed, longing for the sanctuary of the hotel room and a respite from the uncomfortable feeling that everyone that looked at me was seeing a man in a dress. Entering our hotel room, I scattered the packages on several tables and sat down to remove the cursed heels that had the balls of my feet virtually numb. Massaging the injured extremities through a pair of purple hose I questioned Lisa as to why we were buying such blatantly feminine, if not downright provocative clothing. "The best way I know to assist you in accepting and becoming proficient in your new role is to exaggerate the femininity of your wardrobe and your demeanor." "After you've mastered the short skirts and high heels routine, you should be constantly conscious of your posture, your gender, and the socially accepted standards of being a female - call it overkill if you wish, but we haven't much time to prepare you for the role you will assume for the rest of your life." "What is this afternoon's agenda?", I questioned hoping it would not be more stressful than the morning regime. "Well following your dilation and lunch, we are going shopping for dresses and then a trip to the beauty salon for a makeover and manicure." "Also we'll explore having some hair extensions added so you don't have to labor with that uncomfortable wig." "Capping off the evening will be dinner and dancing in a beautiful new outfit." With 'dinner and dancing' echoing in my head, I retired to the bedroom with my trusty dildo............ Next: Shopping, Dinner, and Dancing This is the last chapter I have.