What would it take for you to believe?
I didn’t believe it when he said that I was invisible. That he could make me over in any way and
that society would accept it as truth.
He put me in athletic clothing and presented me as an Olympic swimmer. They didn’t know I couldn’t swim, but they believed
it. He put me in a designer suit and sold
me as a playboy. They didn’t know I was
practically destitute, but they bought it.
They didn’t know he gave me inspiration to act the right way.
For the swimmer decoy he threw me in a pool and kept me
there until I could tread water then rewarded me with a day at the spa to help
me relax. For the playboy simulation he used
a cattle prod until my vocal inflections and posture were right then calmed me with
a new car.
With that evidence, I shouldn’t have doubted him. He said he could get me into his exclusive club. Only members and their dates could
enter. Membership was out of the question,
and he wasn’t about to date me. But then
he went to work. It took him a month. Maybe six weeks. It’s been hard to tell time as I’ve been
locked away in his palatial home. The transformation
was surprising and shocking and savage.
Skin, hair, nails. Heels,
lingerie, dresses. Makeup, perfume, jewelry. All of that was to make me look like a girl
he’d date and it was effective. Even I
couldn’t deny the beauty of the girl in the mirror.
He constantly kept me in heels and filled my rear with an
anal plug to give me that wiggle. He tucked
my manhood away under my panties to hide any bulge and make me smooth. He padded my chest and rear with glued on
falsies to give me the curves. But all
of that was physical. The mental
training, the behavioral grounding, was truly inspiring. Or ruinous, depending on how you looked at
it.
Minor infractions, like speaking out of turn or not smiling and
giggling were treated with open handed smacks across my sensitive bare
cheeks. I thought I’d get pity but he seemed
to like my cheeks pink. More aggressive violations
like using my male voice or directly asking him to stop all of this was met with
an over the knee spanking. I thought he’d
take pity with my screams of pain and terror, but he seemed to like my cheeks
pink. And finally the rewards. I guess they were ultimately rewards for him as
they almost inspired more noncompliance on my part. He had to use the ring gag at first as no
matter how much he painted my lips with his pre-cum, I wouldn’t willingly open
my lips. He would wonder aloud why I
doubted him, and in the end, I wondered the same. He said any girl he’d date would be a true
cock slut and by the time of my debut I was more familiar with his manhood than
my own.
Now tonight, at his proof of concept, I find myself
here. Sitting at the table in the corner. My hands wrists and ankles are bound not out
of fear of me running but to mark me as taken.
I learned that all the dates here are slaves, but ownership here is
tiered. Even my master has his betters and
my head has been guided into the lap of several men for me to provide my
portion of the entry fee. They’re not as
big as my master, but they were all impressed at my abilities. Evidently master has won some prize, but it’s
none of my concern. All I know is that he’s
pleased with me. The buzzing of my remote
control plug tells me that he’s ready to work on his next promise. I doubted he’d ever be able to make me an
anal whore, but I’m learning to believe.
(found this image through the D+X Discord. Thanks Tiffy!)
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