CHAPTER 7
The End of Manhood

I felt as if several hours had passed. But in fact, only one had gone by after John had dropped that bomb on me. I couldn’t eat a bite, and the omelet and toast simply sat there untouched. I held my head between my hands, feeling a burning sensation in the pit of my belly. My mouth was dry and I couldn’t think.

Suddenly, the door opened and John came back. He had two bottles of pills, a yellow manila envelope and a small suitcase.

“So, have you made up your mind, yet? The clock is ticking and I need an answer now.”

I turned around to face him. I was pale and terrified.

“John, please. I…”

“Ashton, I’m getting really tired. If you don’t give me an answer now, I’m going to throw you out into the street. Then I’m going to call the Chicago P.D. and deliver the tapes, the panties soiled with your semen and the gun. How long do you think it’ll take them to pick you up?”

“Please don’t. Really, I…”

“So you want to stay?”

“No, I mean yes… I mean…” I broke down and started crying. John was unmoved by my tears.

“Another confirmation of your true self, Ash. Real men don’t cry. They stand up. They fight. If you would’ve fought me, at least I would’ve doubted my original theory. But this display…”

I simply sat there and sobbed.

“Okay. That’s it. Get out. Just start getting used to the idea of getting arrested. Get used to the idea of being exhibited in court as a homosexual transvestite who shot his lover. Get used to the idea of getting wildly fucked up the ass for the rest of your soon-to-be short life in prison.”

He started going for the phone.

“NO! Please!” I cried. “I’ll do it! I’ll stay!”

John put the phone down and smiled at me. “I knew you would make the right choice”.

I slumped on the couch. I was drained. Defeated. But I figured I’d buy some time and figure out a way out later. For now, I had to avoid prison.

John sat next to me. “Okay. Here’s the deal. You’ll live here. Alone. I will tell the servants that you’re a college student working on some research project and they are not to disturb you. They will only drop off your meals by the porch. Leave the tray outside as soon as you finish.”

He stood up and put on a thin, cotton glove, then extended his open palm at me. “Now, I need your wallet.”

I reached into my back pocket and slowly handed it to him. He then took out a small plastic bag and sealed my wallet inside. Then he took a piece of paper out of the manila envelope and handed me a pen. “Now sign this. Don’t bother reading it, just sign it”.

I took the pen, and started reading it. “I said, don’t bother reading it. Just SIGN the fucking paper!” I stopped reading and signed it. I only caught a glimpse of the first few lines. It was a letter addressed to some doctor at John Hopkins Hospital. He took the paper and placed it in the envelope again.

“Okay, good. Now, pay attention because this is very important. As of this minute, you’re no longer Ashton. You’re Ashley. Got it? Start getting used to your new name.”

“What are you going to do with me?”

John smiled. “You got it wrong. It’s not what I’m going to do with you. It’s what I’m going to do TO you.”

I simply stared at him with a blank look on my face. He went on to explain in detail.

“Your transformation… or shall we say… your blossoming into womanhood will take place in three stages. Stage one will begin right now. You will undergo a rigorous diet and exercise agenda and you will begin an aggressive hormone therapy program.” He put the pills on the kitchen table, opened them and took a pill from each bottle. “You will take one of these with every meal for the next six months. Starting today. In fact, starting right now.”

He went over to the kitchen and poured me a small glass of water. Then he gave me the pills. I held them in my shaking hands.

“Take them. Go on. It’s with every meal.”

I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t bring myself to taking them. Suddenly he yelled at me, “TAKE THE FUCKING PILLS, NOW!”. I was so scared, that I popped the pills in my mouth and drank the water.

I almost choked as I asked what kind of hormones they were. He answered quickly, “they’re a new brand of concentrated hormones. One of my pharmaceutical companies is working on the protocol. They give these to women in fertility programs. They are more easily and rapidly metastasized into your system. It's not magic of anything. It's just a new generation of hormones. Not synthetic, actually. They have natural ingredients. Anyway... the eggheads at the lab told me how they work and they're supposed to work faster and safer. The other pill is a testosterone-inhibitor, so your transformation will be even quicker.

“Now. Stage one will last about six months. We will begin to mold and shape your body naturally as much as we can. You’re 18. That’s a good age. Your body will begin to adjust to its new hormones quite rapidly. But after six months, that’s as much as your body will change in a natural way. That’s when we will begin stage two.

“Stage two will involve your first set of surgeries. I will evaluate your breast, waist and hip size and will adjust them accordingly. We will begin with breast augmentation surgery. I will give you *B* or C-size cups depending on how your body responds to treatment.”

The burning sensation in the pit of my stomach bolted again. My mouth was parched, even though I had just taken a glass of water and my hands were sweating beyond belief. I was terrified. I was going to be deformed! He was going to give me tits! I would be forced to wear bras for the rest of my life!

“Don’t look so scared. I guarantee you’ll beg for them after six months. Furthermore, I’d like you to have a 26 inch waist. If after your exercise and hormone therapies you don’t get one, the second surgery will involve the removal or your lower ribs and liposuction around your waist area to give you with a beautiful and sexy hourglass shape”.

My eyes started watering again, and I started sobbing.

John gave me a warm smile and continued. “Finally, we will remove your Adam’s apple and tighten your vocal chords to provide you with a higher-pitch voice.

“A few months after stage two’s surgeries have healed completely and no tissue scarring remains, we will move on to stage three.” He stopped and looked at me with those steely-ice-cold eyes.

“What’s stage three?” I asked stupidly.

“I think you know what it is. You just signed an application for sex reassignment surgery at John Hopkins. Your testicles will be removed and you will have a vaginoplasty performed. You will, in fact, become a full-woman. I have a bunch of shrinks and doctors on my payroll. They'll have all the necessary documentation. But just in case you try to expose this little... research program, I'd really like to see how you explain your signature on a real, LEGAL, sex-reassignment-surgery application."

I felt dizzy. I was about to pass out. I was trying to swallow, but my mouth and throat were totally dry.

“Approximately one year from today, you will be a woman. My woman. And I expect you to behave as one.”

I started hyperventilating. I was going to be castrated! My dick was going to be sliced open!

“Don’t be so dramatic. I guarantee you’ll enjoy it.” He walked over to the bed and opened the small suitcase. He pulled out a bunch of sport bras and thongs along with some pink, cotton uniforms, lycra gym clothes for women and a few panties.

“These will be your clothes for the next six months. You will wake up at 7;00 AM every day.” He pulled out a DVD from the suitcase. “Then you will follow these exercise routines to the letter.” He pulled out a second DVD. “Then you will learn to apply make-up, and learn the basic concepts of female fashion: accessories, jewelry, hair styles… the works!” He proceeded to take out a bunch of magazines: Cosmo, Vanity Fair, etc.

“I… please, John.” I stammered.

He didn’t even notice me. He simply continued. “Right now, I want you to stand up.” I complied. “Now strip.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Strip. To your bare ass.”

I slowly took off all my clothes. I stood there, completely naked in front of him. I shyly cupped my dick and my balls in a feeble attempt at holding on to some shred of dignity. John went back inside the suitcase and extracted a small leather bag. He handed it over to me.

“Take this bag and go and take a shower. As you shower, I want you to shave every follicle of hair on your body, except your face. After you shave, you will use hot wax and tweezers and you will remove every single beard on your face. I’ll be back in an hour and we’ll pick it up from there.”

As I stretched out my hand to grab the bag, I revealed my balls. John looked at them and raised his eyebrows. Then he smiled and gave me an “ok” sign with his hand. Then he picked up my clothes, and disappeared behind the door.

As I stood there, cold, naked and terrified, I couldn’t help feeling completely at a loss. For years, I had wanted to dress full-time as a woman. But this was going too far. Nevertheless, John’s little remark at my balls didn’t go unnoticed. My dick stirred, and before I knew it, I had a hard-on. I helplessly felt my manhood slipping away between my legs, and the more I thought of myself as a woman, the harder my dick got…

There I was, standing completely naked. Stripped of all dignity. Stripped of my manhood. And yet, I was sexually aroused at a man complimenting my genitals.

I sat down for a moment and looked inside the bag. There was a lady razor along with lady shaving gel, a Nair waxing kit and a pair or tweezers. I took out the pink razor and stared at it. How long had I waited to do this again. But now I was afraid I would lose myself and be forever gone if I did it.

I knew I had no choice. One way or another I was trapped. I summoned all my strength and moved into the shower, I turned the hot water on and stepped in. I let the water wash over me. I felt dirty. Used. Violated. The water was a welcome relief.

As I let the water run down my naked body, I blocked out any thought and concentrated on the feeling the water provided. I pressed the button on the gel can and the sweet, strawberry-smell filled my nostrils. At once, my dick reacted and began to get hard. I closed my eyes, and began lathering my chest. I turned off the water then I put the razor against my chest, and gave a firm stroke. There was a rustling sound. Then I looked down and saw the shaved track in the middle of my chest. My dick began throbbing. I rinsed the razor, and looking straight at my chest, I took the blade cartridge against my skin, and moved it again. The rustling sound of the hairs being shaved sent pangs of ecstasy down to my throbbing cock.

I took a deep breath and looked down. My chest was beginning to strip of any hair. I rinsed, took another deep breath and shaved again. This time, as I heard the rustling of the hairs being shaved, my left hand moved down and grabbed my throbbing cock. I started to rub it gently as I rinsed the razor again.

Another rustling sound and my legs started to shake. I opened my eyes and took another deep breath. Two thirds of my chest were still covered in sweet-smelling lather. But one third was bare. Nice and clean. I took the razor back to my chest and shaved another strip. The rustling sound made me sigh in deep anticipation. I was masturbating strongly now. I looked down, and my chest looked like a 50-50 bar. I frantically started to shave the rest of my chest as I stroked my cock.

Before I had finished, I burst with an orgasm I hadn’t felt in a long time. My legs buckled and I almost fell inside the shower. My left hand was filled with my cum and my right hand held a razor full of lather and chest hair. By now, my chest was shaven. No more hair on it.

At once I felt sick. That guilt-ridden feeling I got after an orgasm was back, but it was much stronger now and all I could think of, was that I was going to get castrated. I was going to have my penis cut open and scraped. I was going to get breast implants. And here I was, jacking off. That awkward sensation returned and I was pissed at myself. How could I possibly enjoy this shit if I was going to be changed forever? I didn’t want to become a woman. I wanted to fuck my mom’s brains out.

I turned the shower back on and rinsed my left hand. Then I leaned against the wall as I let the water hit me in the back of my head. I felt ridiculous. I turned off the water and sat down on the floor of the shower. I put my head between my arms and I started to cry again.

As I calmed down, I felt the water droplets run down my bare chest. They felt nice. Almost sensual. I looked at my chest. It wasn’t quite as smooth as i first thought. There were still small traces of body hair. I ran my fingers down my chest and it felt a little like peach-fuzz. I took the razor, and without thinking I started fine-shaving those areas. As i concentrated on the task the awkward feeling disappeared and suddenly I wanted to have an extra smooth shave for the rest of my body. I wanted that lovely feeling of nylon stockings against my bare legs.

I stepped out of the shower and went over to the kitchen. I looked under the sink, and there was a small bucket. I filled it half-way with warm water, then I returned to the shower and sat down again. I was still drenched from the shower as I lathered up again using the gel. The sweet smell of ladies’ shaving gel filled me up and I started to enjoy it again.

My cock was spent, but I was feeling very excited. I started shaving rapidly, rinsing the razor inside the bucket after each stroke. In a few minutes, my entire body was as lean and smooth as a baby’s butt. No short hairs remaining.

I toweled dry and looked inside the suitcase. There was a jar of moisturizing cream which I opened. The sweet smell kept me completely aroused. My cock’s strength was returning slowly and I started to apply the cream all over my body, especially in the belly and groin area. There was also talcum powder with I immediately applied in my groin. My earlier experiences with shaving had taught me to moisturize that area or i would suffer a bad case of chaffing.

The feeling of my soft, smooth skin sent chills down my spine as my cock started to get hard again. I dropped on the bed and started jacking off again. This time it took longer, but my cream-filled hands felt awesome against my cock and I came again in a rapture of bliss. Although I had very little semen coming out of me, I was so wrapped up in my female personification ecstasy that it seemed like the orgasm lasted for minutes.

I lay there, spent and weak. My head hurt. I hadn’t eaten anything and I was thirsty as hell. I started to get that strange after-orgasm feeling again. I felt ridiculous and silly. To distract myself, I got up and I went over to the kitchen. I drank the orange juice with one gulp. Then I sat down for a while.

Everything felt surreal. I was totally naked with a shaved body inside a strange house. I was frightened as hell that I was going to have my dick and my balls cut off. But at the same time, it seemed unreal. as if it wouldn’t happen for a long time, yet. So I started to relax a bit.

I went inside the leather suitcase and got the Nair waxing kit out. Curiously I started to read the instructions as I examined the contents. I forgot about the fact that I was naked -- and shaved. The awkward feeling had dissipated and now I was deep into learning how to wax my face. As I was reading, unconsciously I shifted on the chair and crossed my legs -- ladylike. The sensation of my shaved legs, one against the other, began exciting me immediately. I wanted that feeling for my face, too.

I opened the wax jar and placed it inside the microwave. Then I applied a strip of hot wax on my face. At first it burned. But as it cooled, it felt nice. Then I tore it off and yelled in pain.

I looked at the strip and I noticed that I had torn the beards from its roots. I looked at my face in the mirror and I noticed a red stripe of skin where the wax tore off the beard.

I took a deep breath and waxed the rest of my face. Each time I pulled the strip I was hit by an intense pain. But after I finished, my face felt unbelievably soft. Softer than any close shave I had ever given myself. The problem was that my entire face underneath my nose was blood-red. I knew that would disappear in a couple of days. In the meantime, I took the tweezers and fine-plucked any remaining beards left behind.

The door opened and John came back. As I heard him walk in the room, I instinctively grabbed a towel to cover my body. Without realizing it, I had pulled the towel over my chest... just like a girl would... A question that still remains to this day is this: was I embarrassed to be seen in a shaven body, or was I starting to revert to my female self? Even today, as I look back I keep wondering why I covered my chest with that towel that morning...

“I knew it. Underneath, you’re a true woman”, he said. I sat on the toilet seat, clutching to the towel. Feeling humiliated. John simply said, “get up. Let me look at you.”

I stood up, still holding on to the towel. With his eyes John ordered me to drop it. His gaze was very commanding and cold. I had no choice but to obey. I dropped the towel. John grabbed his chin as he examined me.

“Very good. Very smooth. No nicks or cuts. You’re very good at it”, he said as his eyes ran up and down my body. I was still covering my dick. “Let me see your dick”. Slowly I removed my hands. John shook his head. “You didn’t shave there. Get in the shower and finish up. I don’t want a bushy area. In fact, give yourself a French wax”.

He left for the kitchen. Slowly I put a strip of how wax right above my dick. I pulled on it and screamed in pain and terror. John came running in and started laughing at me.

“I can’t do it. It hurts too much!” I pleaded.

John walked over and looked at my genitals. “Mmmm. Very soft. Let me help”.

He picked up the wax kit and I yelled “no!” but he went ahead and applied a second strip. He held me back and then ripped it out. I screamed and writhed in pain holding my waxed area. Tears were rolling down my face. John smiled. But in the midst of all that pain, having his hands so near my genitals had an arousing effect. As the pain began to subside, my dick started to get hard. John simply whispered, “patience, my dear. Soon you will fully enjoy the touch of a man...” With those words he tore another strip. I almost came, but I rolled around the bed screaming in pain. This went on until my genital area was totally smooth and free of any hair.

“There you go. See? Isn’t that better?”

All I could say was, “I need the lotion so I don’t get a rash”.

“Let me. I’ll do it”. John grabbed the body lotion and approached me. Without thinking, he put some lotion on his hands and began spreading it around my crotch. As his hands were spreading the lotion, he said very nonchalantly, “Don’t think that I’m gay, or anything. You’re my woman. I’m simply getting to know you a little better. I don’t want any surprises later on.”

As John touched my groin, the feeling in my gut got stronger. It was a warm feeling spreading through my belly. It was not uncomfortable. Actually it was a wonderful feeling of pleasure that started filling me up. I was trying very hard not to react, but for some reason, every time his hand came near my dick or my balls, I wanted those hands to hold my balls or to hold my dick. I tried to fight that feeling with all my strength, but naturally, my dick started to respond. By the time he finished, I was blushing from the huge boner. John stood up and slowly approached me. He whispered into my ear, “I knew you found me attractive. I can’t wait for you to have a pussy so I can fuck your brains out every night”.

There was a feeling of sickness in the pit of my stomach, but at the same time I also enjoyed the words. Having someone find me attractive was a first in my life. No one had ever said that to me. The fact that it was a guy didn’t matter very much at the time.

He slapped me gently on my butt and walked outside. As he left the room he said, “Get dressed and try out your new clothes. Put on a set and hang the rest in the closet. I’ll come back to check on you shortly.” Then he left.

I raced over to the suitcase. I wanted to put some clothes on. It didn’t matter if they were woman’s clothes. The humility of being naked in front of someone of great power, was unbearable. It had been so long since I had stripped that it felt like I had been naked for days... but only one hour had passed.

I pulled out a set of pink, cotton sweats and a white, lycra sleeveless shirt. I didn’t put on any panties of bras. I felt sick. I wanted to wear the least, feminine clothes at the time.

As I pulled the pants over my legs, I couldn’t help feel the soft, cotton fabric on my bare legs. As upset as I was at the situation, it felt good. I put on the shirt then I stared at myself in the mirror.

The clothes fit very snug. As slim as I was, I didn’t have a female shape at all. It was square, like a man. There was a bulge in my crotch that made me very self-conscious. I tried to reduce it as much as I could, but without any panties, it was difficult.

I took off the pants and put on a pair of white panties. They were pink, g-strings. They hardly covered my balls and my dick but it helped me a bit to push my dick and my balls back. Then I put the pants on again. They only came half-way down my calves, so part of my shaved leg was visible.

I looked up, and you could see my nipples through the white, lycra shirt. The touch of lycra against my nipples made them hard. I didn’t want John to think that I was horny or anything. That also made me self conscious, so in the end, I wound up putting on a sports bra to cover my nipples. Then, to cover the sports bra, I put on the sweats’ jacket. The sweats had a soft, pink tone that was very feminine.

There was still a bulge in my crotch and the clothes were very snug around my hips, thighs, chest and arms. I wasn’t fat, by any means. But my figure was a far cry from a girl’s figure.

I went over to the bed to sit down. As I walked, the g-string would ride up the crack of my butt. I felt silly and ridiculous. I lied in bed and started to cry.