Please note: This is an incomplete story. For anyone who read this and expected more chapters, I do apologize. I think it was too sexually oriented for me to maintain enough interest to finish it.
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And here is the start of another story. Please note that it has a slightly darker tone than my other writing, and a forced sex scene towards the end.
Comments, suggestions, and the like are welcome.
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I first noticed her about two hours after the party started. Maybe 5’8”, thin without being too skinny, and her curves well displayed in the tight blouse and mini-skirt she wore. Her face was well made up, and had an elegant, aristocratic look to it. Her overall demeanor, however, was far from aristocratic. Standing alone, she looked lost, confused, and a bit scared. I looked around, but everyone else was too busy making small talk to notice her. I decided to go and and introduce myself.
She saw me approaching when I was about 6 feet away. Suddenly she looked alarmed, the panic showing in her eyes. She looked around the room, as if looking for an escape route, but didn’t move. The analogy of a deer in the headlights came to mind. Odd, as I was scarcely a frightening looking person.
“Hello, I’m Julian. Are you enjoying the party?” I asked.
She continued to glance around, not making eye contact with me, and not responding. I tried again. “Hello, what’s your name?” Suddenly, she must have seen what (or who) she was looking for, somewhere behind me. The scared look on her face intensified. I looked back, and saw a man of an unusual ethnic background approaching. He looked like a cross of Hawaiian, Chinese, and maybe Mongolian ancestry. There was probably some European in the mix, to be certain, but I couldn’t tell what. Maybe Portuguese.
“Ah, my pet. I leave you alone for a moment, and you are trying to pick up another man. Tsk, tsk. Well, I will deal with you later. In the meantime...” he swung his gaze towards me, “I am Damian. Who are you?”
I didn’t much care for his demanding tone. “I’m Julian, if you must know.”
After a moment, he replied, “No, you are mistaken. Your name is Julie. Now, tell me, who are you?”
“For the hard of hearing, I am Julian. And you are a bit odd, Damian. Anyways, gotta go. Ciao.”
He looked confused, like he was expecting a different answer. I didn’t much care; the guy was just strange, and my sixth sense was telling me to leave, el pronto.
“I did not give you permission to leave. You will stay and entertain me and Tess.”
I swung around to look at him. “No, I am NOT going to stay, to entertain either of you.” I looked at his lady friend, and added, “I’m not sure what you are doing with this yahoo, but I’d recommend leaving him and finding a nice guy. Quickly.”
Damian looked at the girl, and said, “You have my permission to speak freely, slave.”
She looked at me, and said “I wish I could leave him. However, he is well versed in the black arts, and has complete control over me. If you can leave, do so now. Do not become his prisoner. He will…”
“Silence, girl!” She stopped and looked at him. Her expression quickly went from pure hatred to an adoring gaze in less than a second. Odd.
“Tess tends to exaggerate, playing up the negative and downplaying the positive. There are many benefits of being mine. And I have decided”, he said, looking me over in a way that creeped me right out, “that you will now be mine as well. You will accompany us back to my house.”
For the briefest moment, I felt a vague desire to do just that. The feeling quickly passed, however. I just looked at him like he was a deranged person. “I’m going to have to pass on your ever so kind offer. Thanks, anyways.” I turned once again and walked away.
“Okay, be difficult. I like the occasional challenge”, I heard him say. Then something like a needle hit the back of my neck. The world suddenly became very fuzzy, and then the thickly carpeted floor rushed up to meet my face.
“It’s alright, I’m a doctor.” It was Damian’s voice. “Now the fun begins, my pet” he whispered, as he crouched over me. It was the last thing I heard before losing consciousness.
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I slowly came to, lying on my stomach. There was a warm, bright light shining on my face. I squinted towards the source — it was the sun, shining through pink curtains. “Pink curtains?”, I thought. “I don’t have pink curtains.” I groggily went to get out of bed, only to discover that my arms and legs only could move a few inches. I looked at my left wrist, and saw the padded cuff, with a length of cable securing it to the bedpost.
“What the hell?!” I exclaimed. “Hey!! Is anyone there?” Silence.
“Hello?!” I could hear footsteps, and then, a door opening.
“Ah, my pet. Did you have a peaceful sleep?” I knew that voice. After a few seconds thought, I realized who it was. I turned to look at my tormentor. “Damian? What the hell is going on here? Why am I tied up? What do you want with me?”
“So, your accommodations are not to your liking?” he said with a laugh. He crouched down, so that he could make eye contact. “I’m insulted! That bed cost me a lot of money. Maybe you would prefer to stay in the cellar?”
“Actually, I would prefer to stay as far away from you as possible.”
He gazed at me for a second, his face revealing something akin to… respect? “I’m impressed, Julie. I have tried almost every spell I know on you, in order to gain control of your psyche. None have worked. I have saved the last, most powerful one for when you woke up, as the ‘recipient’ needs to be conscious.” With that, he opened up what appeared to be a very old book, taking a moment to find the right page. He began reading, pausing a few times to look at me. As he read, I could feel a slight mental pressure. My eyes lost focus, and I could feel myself losing my will. Wanting to obey and to please. And then, snap!! The feeling was gone. I could focus again. I looked over at him, feeling somewhat smug that his last attempt was a failure.
“Amazing…” he whispered, sounding a bit shocked. “I didn’t think anyone could resist that spell. It has been around for hundreds of years, and has never failed. With it, our kind have controlled more influential people in government and industry than I would care to name.”
“Well, sorry to wreck your day. So, now that you have failed, you should let me go. It only seems fair, si?”
“Oh, you shouldn’t be such a smartass, Julie. I view this as an educational opportunity. The knowledge I gain from breaking you will help me control others like you.” He paused, looking me over in a way that made my skin crawl. “While your mind is resistant to magic, your body is not. And as you may know, the mind tends to be heavily influenced by its vessel. I have made a few modifications, and I am going to very much enjoy watching and learning their effect on you. In the end, I will win, as I always do.”
“So, what is your grandiose scheme of yours?” I asked, with a bravado that I did not entirely feel. This guy was deranged, whether from a mental illness, or too much power, I did not know.
“Perhaps you are familiar with the effect of addictive substances? Substances like heroin, crack, crystal meth, and the like affect the pleasure centers of the brain. The user wants to feel like that again, and will do anything for another high. Their morals will gradually deteriorate, and they will end up committing crimes to get more of their drug of choice.”
“Oh, you need not worry,” he said, taking note of the look on my face. “I am not so crude as to inject you full of heroin so that I can control you. I am not some pimp, 'looking after' his women. People like that tend to look at short term gain only, knowing that they can always get more girls in dire straits to replace the ones that have been ‘used up’. No, I have a different plan.”
“You probably have heard of people who are addicted to television, the internet, or video games. These mediums also affect the pleasure areas of the brain. However, they do not tend to harm the addict. Well, not much, at any rate. There are always factors like the lack of exercise, and destruction of family life, to consider.”
He reached over and did something to the side of the bed. I could hear a slight humming sound underneath me. The cables attached to the padded cuffs on my wrists loosened a bit. Any elation I felt over that quickly evaporated as the restraints on my legs were slowly being pulled to the sides of the mattress. Meanwhile, Damian had placed the book he was holding on the night table, and was digging through the drawer. He quickly found what he was looking for - a very lifelike dildo. It must have been 7” long, and maybe two inches in diameter. I quickly turned my head and buried my face in a pillow when he moved it towards my lips.
“Ah, do not fear, my pet. Soon enough, you will enjoy having something like that in your mouth. One day, it will be replaced by the real thing, and you will have little choice in the matter. Or, at least, that will be your perception of it.”
“You see, I intend to turn you into an addict of sexual pleasure. You will eventually do anything I say, because you will want to the high that only I can provide, again and again.” He paused, and then I could hear a buzzing sound emanating from the dildo. He touched my upper back with it, and slowly slid it down my back.” I was almost hyperventilating, partly from panic, and partly from the sensations the vibrator was giving me.
“As I said before, I have made a few alterations to your frame. Your body hair has been removed, permanently, of course. This, along with a special ointment I have created, will increase the sensitivity of your skin many times over.” By this time, he had the dildo between my ass cheeks, and was sliding the fabric of my underwear to one side. “Oh, and best of all, I used a spell to make your anal region considerably more sensitive than your penis ever has been.”
And with that, he slid the dildo up my ass. The pain was intense, but only for a second. It was quickly replaced by a pleasure the likes of which I had never felt. The pleasure slowly increased as Damian started pumping the dildo in and out of me. Soon, I was hitting a level of ecstasy that I had never even dreamed of before. Then, suddenly, cruelly, he stopped. He shut off the vibrator, and had the head of the dildo up against my anus. I found myself, without realizing it, trying to shove my ass against the sex toy.
“Well, looks like you are well on your way, and that took all of…” he looked at his watch, “a minute and a half. Now then, what is your name?” he asked.
“My name is… Julian”.
“Really? You look more like a Julie to me, what with that silky lingerie on, and a dildo in your ass.” He turned it back on, but at a lower speed, and slowly shoved it back inside me. He held it in one place for a few second, and then restarted the pumping action. I whimpered as the feelings of pleasure radiated through my body again.
He repeated this torture over and over, and every time he stopped, he asked me what my name was. The denial of the impending orgasm was torment. Each time he brought me closer to climaxing, and then stopped. I tried everything to stop the feelings. I thought about sports and bridges and horrible jobs that I had held over my lifetime. Nothing worked.
Finally, I was at wit’s end. I had to have release. My balls ached like I had been kicked square. The ninth (or was it the tenth?) time he asked, I finally screamed out in desperation, “Julie!! My name is Julie!! Now please, I beg you, fuck me til I come! Please!!”
I looked over at him, and immediately hated him for that smug and superior grin on his face. I vowed to myself then and there that I would make him suffer for this. No matter how good he made my body feel, the embarrassment that I felt was even more intense. Yes, Damian would pay dearly. But right at the moment, I needed to come.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he asked. He turned the dildo back on, and plunged it in and out of me. Just as I was at the very pinnacle of orgasm, he added “Oh, by the way, you should know about the other spell I cast on you. Every time you come, you lose a bit of your masculinity. It is why I do this — male essence is the source of my power. The result of this is that you will first become a shemale, and then a woman.”
I was beyond caring — all that I knew then and there was the orgasm that exploded through my body for what felt like hours. I saw stars. My skin tingled. My muscles tensed as I pumped out an endless amount of cum. The feelings were absolutely bliss, and I knew before the end that I would have to experience it. Again and again. Damian had won —this time.
Before I could contemplate it anymore, an exhausted sleep claimed me.
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Comments
Question Is, Will Julian Or
Julie win in the end? That **** might be able to do many things, but can he truly breal Julian?
May Your Light Forever Shine
May Your Light Forever Shine
I'm Curious
...to see the reactions of other readers here. My impression after hanging out here a while is that this site seems to have a certain number of readers who are not particularly into erotica, and the "forced" stories seem to get a slightly less enthusiastic reception here than elsewhere.
This story should serve as a litmus test for the current state of sentiment here.
I wouldn't worry about it, though. If worse comes to worse, I'm sure this would fit in just fine on storysite or fictionmania.
Yes, I had considered it
Pippa:
I had considered it putting it on FM, but so far, this is the only site I have posted stories on. Besides, there is hope for our character - he/she has a strong will, and won't go down without a fight. I think the story is more about the psychological aspect than it is about erotica.
What says the rest of you folks? Too heavy for BC? Opinions, as always, are welcome.
Thanks
O.K.
Clarifying...
Just to be clear, I'm pretty comfortable with erotica of most kinds. It rarely bothers me, and some of it can be rather tasty. I'm less comfortable with "forced" plots, especially if I start empathizing with the protagonist (which is most of the time) and there doesn't seem to be hope of escape and revenge.
Now, the "forced" problem is just a personal quirk of mine, so don't let it affect your story-telling. I'm hardly typical, especially in terms of degree of reaction.
No prob
I shan't let others' opinions sway me from my story. If there was a lot of negative reaction, though, I would simply post the story on FM, and keep the milder stuff on BC.
Thanks for the feedback, Pippa.
Have a good day.
O.K.
Varrrry creepy!
An effective start for a horror story. It would be sad to think there wasn't a place for mildly disturbing material like this (because it is pretty mild so far) here at BTCS, and I'd hate for you to yank this or not follow through with it just because it isn't wildly popular, or might not get the hits some stories do, or someone squawks that they find this spiritually unsalubrious. This story site need variety if it is to be anything worthwhile. After about a year here one of my stories has finally limped past the 1000 hit mark. Not a great showing numerically, apparently I'm not everyone's cup of tea. But I figure that those who enjoy my stuff REALLY enjoy it, so it sort of evens out. And then there is Alexandra Rios/Tyla Flowers, who writes these gritty, harrowing adventure stories about young transsexuals living on the margins of society, full of violence and despair and then the most excessive fuck scenes that the heroines join in with total abandon. While these stories don't describe (and to some they might seem to mock...) the experiences and attitudes of most trangendered people, they use pornography to say important things about the nature of addiction and self-image, and choices. These 2 series', with their astonishing command of prose, appear here chapter after chapter receiving virtually no hits, comments or votes; but Alexandra/Tyla clearly believes in them, and gamely continues to submit them here despite the almost total void of feedback. I look to her example for courage to just write what moves & interests me, post it and cross my fingers...
~~~hugs, Laika
"The federal government will only recognize 2 genders,
as assigned at birth-" (The man in his own words:)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C1lugbpMKDU
not sure about
it being a horror story. Not my cup of tea, really. Unless I have a different definition of what a horror story is.
I have noticed a declining readership on one of my past storylines, but I figured out that it just took me too damn long to get anywhere with it. By part 7, there was only maybe 1/3 of the hits as there was for part 1. I won't get bummed about it, though, and will consider it an educational experience. I should start that storyline up, just so that interested readers will get some sense of closure on it.
But anyways, I ramble. Thank you for your support on my story.
O.K.
bad word choice
I guess I didn't mean "horror" in the classic Dracula/Creature from the Black Lagoon sense. Supernatural thriller? Psychic Psychological Drama? Whatever I mean it's intense, not a litehearted frolic. That one line haunts me, where the warlock speaks of a particular spell that has entrapped politicians and lawmakers. It could make this even SCARIER if in her time in Damian's thrall, Julie got a glimpse of a world out of some gnarly satanic "conspiracy theory"; where she realizes that not only is she personally in deep doo-doo from this bit of witchcraft, but there's just about nowhere to run even if she could regain control of her motor functions and such ......... Just an idea, pardon mon buttinski, and anyway very good stuff!
~~~hugs, Laika
"The federal government will only recognize 2 genders,
as assigned at birth-" (The man in his own words:)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C1lugbpMKDU
that's a good idea
I might be able to toss in the occasional reference here and there, but it won't be very deep. Get me started on conspiracy theories, and poor Julie/Julian will be in limbo for a very long time. : )
Depends on how it goes
If in the end, the victim triumps or the baddie gets his just deserts, it should fly.
Dom/force fem stories just for the trill of the forcing are not my cup of tea and usually crash and burn here unless unusally good or have more to them than just that.
That he could resist all those other spells suggests the male magic user, the Warlock I suppose or a wizard, not sure yet, is in for a nasty suprise down the road. A common theme in magic stories is magic potental is often blocked by something, often the person being the wrong sex for their particualr type of magic they are tied to.
Julie, and I suspect that is a given now -- Julian is toast, would have been a powerful witch or sorceress if not born male or maybe has a bit of a female demon in her/his heritage that this arogant man is unleashing, IE one of Julian's progenitors was a demoness or succubus. Maybe he was comceived as one such powerful magic female and someone cast a spell at birth or in the womb to make him male and cap the powers. Plus any magic user as powerful as this nasty man must have rivals and enemies.
Curious to see your take in this. I may have hit on it or be so far out in left field it will take a saffari to rescue me.
I will try to give it an honest hearing.
John in Wauwatosa
John in Wauwatosa
I gotta say...
... comments like yours keep me on my toes, John. I will probably have to do some alterations to the story, just to keep from being too predictable. : )
I do wonder, though - how many stories are truly new and unique? Many times, you can see what is going to happen a mile away. Once in awhile, an author totally catches me off guard, and I like when that happens.
As for the 'forced' stories, there are some good ones out there, and some that leave me thinking "Well, there's ten minutes of my life that I will never get back." Sorry, I know that's kind of mean statement to make, but some writing is just too bizarre for me to ever understand or relate to.
Pushing the envelope
This is an interesting story. You've written some finely drawn characters, you provide vivid imagery, and you maintain just the right balance between the sacred and profane, fear and fascination that makes forced feminization an important sub-genre of tg fiction. Your villain has just the right amount of mystery to keep him from being one dimensional while your protagonist has just the right amount of heroic potential to make the emerging conflict worth reading. This is a worthy start of a potentially good story and one that I'd like to see you continue.
Stories like yours have always been a mainstay of transgendered fiction. They have maintained their popularity because they are metaphors for the very real anxieties, fears, threats, and mysteries of the transgendered experience. This is exactly the kind of story that should be welcomed in a tg writer's community. Unfortunately, BC is increasingly less of a writer's community than it once was. A political correctness has emerged on BC which demands that stories appearing here be emotionally "safe". While there are only a few self-appointed moralists making these demands, they are visible enough to cause good writers to leave what was once a vibrant fiction site. The best way to combat the stultifying sameness of political correctness is by producing edgy, envelope-pushing stories like yours.
wow!
Thanks, Kate! High praise indeed!
I don't know enough about Big Closet's history to comment on how things may have changed. I do understand your concerns, though.
Political correctness is just one example of the few dictating for the many. It happens all too often in almost every aspect of life, all over the world. It may be as mild as censorship of a book in a local library, or as severe as violence being used against those who practice an "unacceptable" religion. It is everyone's duty to stand up for what they believe in.
I'd add to that: this site, and ones like it, would be banned by some if they had their druthers. Their defence would be along the lines of "BC promotes a perverted lifestyle. We don't want to see that kind of rubbish, and we certainly don't want our children to be exposed to it."
I suppose a little freedom given up now will mean a lot more freedom given up later.
Phew! Best rant I have had in a while. : )
O.K.
And how ironic that of those
And how ironic that of those who have suffered some, a few, are so unselfconsciously willing to commit similar retributions simply because someone writes a story they don't like. Their objections are not about the story but, rather, that such stories exist at all.
May I Call You O.K.?
I think you'll find an audience here for erotica rather than heavy porn. You probably won't get thousands of hits but another recent addition to our bevy of talented authors is a Miss K. and she has done some pretty raunchy stuff (which I personally love as she does it with such panache) and has what I guess is a niche market following. If you continue in the current vein I think you will tap into a similar group of readers. From me, go for it!
Joanne
That's okay
I don't mind if I don't get thousands of readers. I just write because I get inspired on occasion. Nonetheless, I thank you for the support.
I've read most of Miss K's work. Her Jane Master's stories are great. Like you said: very explicit, but well written.
And it's okay to call me O.K. : )
Few truely new stories or so some say.
If you want to argue it.
But it is how you portray it that makes all the difference. I remember a joke, funny because it has some truth in it about Frankestein and My Fair Lady being esentially the same story, just one has a happier ending.
You can follow the predictable path but in a uneque way or twist convention on it's head. The nasty, manipuative, ruthless socerer might turn out to be a dupe of a more powerful force that needs to have the victim turned into a woman for some devious or greater purpose. In the end who is really the pupet and the pupetteer?
I agree, Miss K's Jane Bond story is remarkable. Rather graphic but I think the tale called for it as Bond is rather a sexual man. The plot was riveting with lots of complications and backsatbbing/counterplots.
This story of your's has a lot of potential too. Good luck.
John in Wauwatosa
John in Wauwatosa