Monday, July 17, 2017

Pulitzer Prize

Investigative journalism at it's best!

How could it be legal?  What methods did they use?  Did women really sign up for this?  Did men?  The ‘School’ was supposed to help women become more receptive lovers for their dominant men but they advertised in some fetish magazines that they could even make men into simpering sex starved sissies for their gay lovers.  They were incredibly secretive about their methods, so the only way we were going to get answers was to send someone in.  Tyrone and I got ‘volunteered’ as we were both ace undercover journalists.  That and the fact that I was already small and slight and could conceivably be seen as a sissy wannabe. 

It’s ok.  Just kneel and pull your dress down.  How did they make my skin this sensitive?  How did they make it so that a silk dress sliding down my body was so pleasurable that I could practically orgasm from just that?  Don’t think about it.  Just do it.  Just pass this test. 

Signing up was easy enough.  We explained that while Tyrone was a life long homosexual, I had only recently come out of the closet even to myself.  We told them that we were in love, but that my shyness was driving a wedge between us and that we were willing to go through almost anything to make us more compatible.  The exam was pretty surprising.  We both had to don VR goggles and be exposed to all manner of images as they read our brainwaves and bodily responses.  When they gave us the results I thought that the ruse was up.  They said that Tyrone was unconsciously looking for a small, sexy, overly feminine partner that he could dominate completely.  His blush told me that they hit that nail on it’s head.  Then they told us about me.  They told us that I was deeply conflicted.  That I wanted to be both powerful and meek.  That I wanted to be the perfect mate.  That I wanted to make those I was with ultimately happy and satisfied, but would have trouble submitting fully to anybody.  My own blush more than likely confirmed the validity of that statement. 

Don’t look in the mirror.  You don’t want to see yourself like that again.  Your hair full and styled, though still short.  Your face smooth and covered in makeup.  Your Adam’s apple all but gone.  Your waist cinched in and your hips flaring out wide.  You don’t want to see that….. Oh Shit here he comes, and he’s already naked.  Don’t look at his cock, don’t look at his cock, don’t look at his cock…. Fuck.  Okay just look at the mirror and see how small and sexy and feminine you are.

When they told us that it was possible to get what we wanted we were both excited.  Now we’d expose their methods and be able to tell all of our readers what was going on here.  We might even get a Pulitzer Prize!  We eagerly signed the papers committing ourselves for a two month stay.  The first four weeks would be separate training.  Tyrone would be taught how to treat his ideal lover while I’d be transformed into that simpering feminine creature.  The second four weeks would be training with each other.  One on one training.   I imagined it would be embarrassing…. I’d probably end up in a dress as we cuddled on a couch.  I’d probably have to kiss him and call him darling.  But a little embarrassment would be worth it when we could write this story out. 

Don’t move.  It’s not like I’m touching him.  I’m just kneeling here and watching a hulking man jack off in front of me.  I can do this.  I can do this.  I CAN do this…. Can’t I?

I’d love to say what was most surprising… but there isn’t any part of this training that isn’t shocking.  First what they did to my body.  That first week was nothing but procedure after procedure.  I’ll freely admit that I cried each time they rolled me into surgery.   I thought they might give me a padded bra…. They gave me big breast implants.  I thought they might make me wear a corset… they took out my lower ribs and reformed my pelvis to give me a tiny waist and full hips.  I though they’d make me shave my body hair off… they permanently lasered it all away.  I thought I’d have to use lotion on my skin… they gave me some chemical peel to permanently make my skin smooth and sensitive.  I thought I’d have to wear a wig… they gave me hair treatments and implants making my hair thick and full and long. 

How am I going to get through this?  When I snuck out and saw the syllabus of my training… damnit this is just stage one.   ‘Learning to appreciate my man’.   I have to get through stage four ‘Learning to orally pleasure my man'  before I even get to see Tyrone!

The physical changes were extreme… but the mental changes made those look minor.  They implanted some kind of receiver into my ear where they can talk to me.  And whenever they’re not giving me direct commands on how to act they have it playing that damned mantra.  I’m not sure I’ll ever get that out of my head… “I’m a pretty little sissy and I want to man to love me”.  And if I don’t do what the tell me to do?  If I even balk or pout when they tell me to pucker up or twirl my hair or prance around?  They buzz me.  I don’t even know what it is, but it must be something else they implanted.  They just hit a button and I’m given a shock that redefines what pain is.  And it works…. I find it difficult to NOT do whatever they tell me to do. 

Just hold still!  Keep your hands under your breasts and present them for his cum.  Oh God!  Can’t they see that I can’t do this!?  I can’t!  I Can’t!  I CAN’T!!  FUCK!!! God NO!  Let Go Of My HAIR!!! 

Everything I do is designed to make me Tyrone’s ideal girl.  When I’m not prancing around and talking like a valley girl, I’m being given ‘experiences’ that Tyrone will like.  They tie me up.  It seems Tyrone likes bondage.  They make me watch porn and describe how the woman feels in each one.   Tyrone seems to like sex and his women to be vocal.  They spank me.  They spank me when I do bad but they also spank me when I do good.  Tyrone seems to like spanking his girls.  Maybe worst, they have men around me all the time.   Men who touch me.  Men who demean me.  Men who kiss me.  Men who feed me.  Men who dress me.  And then they combine it all.  Last night I spent hours tied up over a man’s lap watching porn, his cock pressing into my belly, his hand caressing my ass whenever it wasn’t spanking it,  his other hand reaching down to rub and caress me down there… making me cum into his hand every time he came onto my belly. 

They like this.  They like it when I cry.  They love seeing my tears fall down to mix with the cum on my breasts.  But I’m not crying to look more vulnerable and girly.  I’m crying because I failed and now I’m going to have to repeat this test tomorrow.  I’ll keep repeating it until I coo and smile as a man jacks off onto my breasts.  Then I’ll move on to the next test which I’ll fail over and over and over until I can smile and wink as I give a guy a handjob making him cum all over my face.  Then I’ll move on to the next test which I’ll fail over and over and over until I can moan and whimper like a whore as I give a man a blowjob.  And only when I pass all of these tests can I move on to get the personal training with Tyrone.    

source:  fuskator

I'll freely admit that this obscura was completely inspired by Timothy Reisling Betticut's story "Pansy Pond"


  1. Oh, my . . . that was intense, and so very well done. Great writing!

  2. A great story, it ends to soon, Guess we knew what would happen from the of but hey!