When I read Maryanne Peters' story "A Special Kind of Revenge" (https://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/fiction/86869/special-kind-revenge), it enraged me so much, I couldn't keep myself from painting darker and darker plots of revenge on behalf of the brothers. I got so worked up, I had to write it out of my system. While writing it down, the story became less and less dark than in my first intentions. (But) I hope you will (still) enjoy it.

Further remark: Of course, the copyright of the original story and characters belongs to Maryanne Peters. Since she didn't name her characters, I had to come up with names on my own. Thus, while she didn't name the surgeon, but wrote it from the ego-perspective (first person) I named the surgeon after her (just in honor to her as an author, not because she is that surgeon (at least as far as I know or not know)).
Anyway, please be aware, this is a work of pure fiction, any resemblance with dead or living persons (especially Maryanne Peters), with any objects, places and events are completely coincidental and unintended.

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In "A Special Kind of Revenge" (https://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/fiction/86869/special-kind-revenge) Maryanne Peters lets a surgeon deal with males by performing MTF transformations on request as salvation, punishment, revenge or prophylaxis, if the price is right. One of her customers orders the transformation of a pair of brothers into sisters. The surgeon wonders briefly, if the customer bit off more than he could possibly chew. The 'sisters' were quite a handful on delivery. This is where this story took off from and is written from the customer's point of view.

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A Special Kind of Revenge gone cold

Hi, my name is Humphrey. Yes, I know, but my parents are a bit old-fashioned and some might call them 'old money'. From that point of view, you might categorize me also 'new money'. Although I had many benefits from my parent's monetary halo, it earned me as much pain. Benefits of course, because I didn't miss a thing during my childhood and got the best education I could dream of. On the other hand, pain because of what this triggered in other kids. I have always been a pretty skinny and pale kid. Although healthy, most people surely thought of me as a sick child or such alike.

Truth is I have always been more intelligent than other kids my age or a few years older. Therefore I liked to immerge myself into science. In contrast, I strongly detested outdoor activities and other kids in general, because they were so boring and into childish games and stuff. I would rather read or do my experiments and stay in my room. My parents were not too sad about that as well. I suspect I was brought into this world to inherit the family’s wealth and to continue the family's name and tradition than to fulfill a longing to pamper and spoil a child.

My mother and my father often told their friends, they would be more than happy to have me around when I finally become old enough to enjoy the opera or social events of the rich and famous. But as long as I appeared to be a little child, I was rather an annoyance and left in care of our butlers and maids. (Yes, plural and as in more than one at a time!) However, besides serving meals, supporting hygiene, clothing, transportation and occasional errands they left me alone and I them. As said, I rather stayed in my room and educated myself.

Thus, no wonder, when I started school I was fast ahead of all the others in my class although it was a very expensive, private school. In consequence, I became kind of an outcast pretty fast and stayed away from the other kids anyway. Consequentially, I had no objections when already half a year later and despite it being in the middle of the school year, I was transferred to the third graders to be less bored. Still there was little new and challenging for me. I eluded this by dreaming up lots of things to experiment on while the lessons progressed. When in fourth class, I won first prize for chemistry and biology experiments at the state's junior science fair for those aged 10 to 14. I was 8 and a half at that time and won the Most Enthusiastic and the Most Creative of all participants prize, too. Thus, it seemed the reasoned next step to attend some high-school courses and even some university courses as well in parallel to starting fifth grade. That was when I meet Louis and Carl.

They were two brothers and although Louis was almost a year older than Carl, they were freshmen and both in my chemistry classes. They were a handful for the teachers and the terror of the high school. When they became aware, I got better marks than them, had more money and was much younger, I became their favorite target. Since I refused stubbornly to share my knowledge as well as my money, this resulted in lots of pain and terror. Luckily, I brushed through my courses and left them behind rather quickly. Not that the time in between didn't seem to stretch indefinitely.

When I became 15, I got myself a lawyer and started the process to gain emancipation from my parents. It was not because I didn't love them or they didn't love me. In fact, our relationship was the best ever since I was born. For one, now I was more on an equal level going mature and second, they were able to share most of their favorite things with me. No, it was mainly because I wanted to found my own research lab company and didn't want to endanger my parent’s wealth and name should I go bankrupt.

A year before that, I had had a major breakthrough with one of my science projects. Easy speaking, I managed to plant a catalytic component in a bacteria culture, which enabled them to 'fart' hydrogen while digesting water, ammoniac and carbon dioxide. Although it was working in lab conditions only at that time prospects were gigantic. Think hydrogen-fueled cars and combined in-house heat power units producing no more greenhouse gases. Far from it, my bacteria would 'suckle' carbon dioxide out of the air. On the other hand, endangering the business of the oil companies could be dangerous enough to ruin one's life and those of all his beloved ones, too.

Through the next years, I worked on my degree, setting up my business and improving the production process. I had not much time for anything else. Foremost of all, I had no time to spend on a relationship with any member of the other gender. Growing up being the youngest one around and an outcast most of the time, I was a bit on the shy side (okay, understatement of the year) I was heavy on the shy side, so that I could hardly speak to girls without starting to stutter. Additionally, it didn’t help, that most nights I would wake up from nightmares all sweaty and panting. My personal shrink found out this resulted from the treatments I had received by Carl and Louis during high school. I couldn't really remember that much, but one ‘joke’ they performed quite regularly. They used to pull down my pants and underpants in front of the cheerleader clique a lot. Leaving me standing there unable to flee, embarrassed and laughed at my tiny weenie. Hey, I was nine!

§§§

Now close to 20, puberty had donated an adequate and sizeable equipment to me for some years, but I still got panic attacks imagining others seeing my crutch and possibly laughing about it. It didn't help that at 5'5" I was smaller than most girls I knew. Working in a lab didn't help make me a hunk in girls’ eyes either.

Therefore, I was more than a bit surprised to be approached by this beautiful girl one evening and even more astonished when I didn't start to stutter right away. To make my confusion complete, she told me, we knew each other from high school and she went by the name Brian at that time.

Obviously, his/her mother found out his/her father cheated on her big time. Which caused his mother to become an evil man-hating nut bitch. (Her rating not mine, mind you!) For whatever reasons she projected all that hatred for his father and men in general on him. After a lucrative divorce settlement and gaining sole custody of him, she accidently met a surgeon performing SRS even or especially on unwilling males if the price was right.

Contrary to most stories you would find online, where the victim would have some hope of escape because the SRS is done as last step of the painfully slow transformation, this surgeon would start with 'cutting off the dick' and performing a vaginoplasty, if requested, right at the beginning. Thus, Brianna looked like any other girl a month later - at least below her waist. Without any hope to pass or perform as a boy ever again, she gave in to the nagging and treatments. She started on hormones and attended classes in the female arts and ladylike behavior, dressing, make-up, dancing as a girl and such.

First, she was truly depressed, but when she became friends with some of the girls at the courses, she accepted her new life and became happy again. Maybe even more so than as the nerd, she had been before. Now she had girls as friends and lots of them. She were no longer shy in public or hunted down by jocks (or when for completely different reasons, mind you). She could be an eager beaver, organized and high-flying, with ambitious aims in life and not been beaten or shoved down the toilette bowl or in a locker for it. Now she was the one to toy with the jocks and cause them sleepless nights (again for completely other reasons but maybe just as soul torturing since the jocks got nowhere with her but not out of her red lacquered 'claws' either). She laughed a lot about that part.

Maybe she will never forgive her mother for her betrayal and she still intends to make her mother's life as miserable as only a in the beginning rebellious teenager brat and now a lavish, reckless and money-wasting bitching daughter can do, which on top is driving off or making fun of all her mother's friends and lovers. Flaunting her new assets in their faces, teasing them mercilessly, provoking sexual assaults to be witnessed by her mother, but being the well-behaved daughter when her mother is around them. This also helped spreading discrete little lies among the higher circles her mother so wanted in, but prevented by the bad reputation pointing at her mother. Unbeknown to her mother, Brianna had found the love of her life, too. Secretly, she is planning her lesbian marriage ever since and then adopting only boys, but not before torturing her mother a while longer and then some more.

§§§

While listening to Brianna's story and during the next sleepless nights, a plan started to form in my head. My shrink once told me, I still suffered a severe inferiority complex. I have always reckoned, the only way to get rid of the ghosts hounding me from the time Carl and Louis mobbed and taunted me, was to apply a special kind of revenge on them. Now Brianna had shown me a way to do so. I tortured my favorite search engine and 'ducked out' (sorry, I couldn’t leave this pun alone) her surgeon's contact data.

When I met the surgeon, I was a bit intimidated. She was surprisingly tall for a woman or at least lot taller than I am. Having said, many women are taller and even more muscled than I am, this might not account for much. Despite her clearly feminine features and style, I seemed to catch tiny bits of masculine vibes, which gave me the creeps. However, as soon as we sat down to discuss my requests, I found out she was a really nice woman and easy to talk to. Although she radiated some hatred against men and the male gender, too, she was very friendly and even a bit flirtatious towards me. So maybe I mistook those vibes from before and projected her strength and her intimidating me from my male punishers onto her. Since I couldn’t make a rhyme of it, it confused me a lot and probably therefore frightened me a bit. (Okay, okay, a bit more than a bit) In retrospect, I am afraid it also affected my usual analytical and clear thinking. Because, I might not have made the best decision that day. (Understatement of the century, when I read it now!)

In the end, I really asked her to transform the bullies of my past into the sex kittens of my future. That’s why, I asked for them to be made into anatomical correct girls - sisters - as pretty as possible. Furthermore, they should be as girly as possible, too, and for that as weak as kittens. To hit home their new destination and meaning in life they were to be delivered naked and to be placed unconscious on a bed in the cottage I would be renting for their delivery in the middle of nowhere.

Maryanne never bat an eye upon all those details and further specifics I asked for. She didn't question my motives, motivation or rightfulness. I guess she felt my resolve and hurt and wasn't disturbed to right something wrong by such a tremendous act. She even told me, she had done such jobs on brothers, buddies, sons and fathers, cousins and from time to time on small groups of boys. She even went as far as to confess that she liked doing multiple transformations at the same time better. In her opinion, the results were far better, easier to obtain and faster settling deeper in the 'victim's' psych, when they had someone else to see the uselessness of resistance as well as being able to compare and to understand their own inevitable progress on. Additionally, it seemed to resolve the male pride and shame more efficiently when they were aware, they were not the only one no longer fit enough to be a manly man but a little girly girl.

In the end, Maryanne seemed only interested in the generous sum I would pay for all this. On the other hand, she didn't seem interested in the money per se. It appeared to me as if she would do it for free, too, if there weren’t bills to pay. However, after all, there was a lot to be done and many equipment and facilities to be used as well as many professional people to be employed. All quite expensive and would take a big share of my payment. The rest would finance research, development and other special projects of her. Should she, even if after paying all that, still have an even not so small amount of money left over to provide her a nice living, I wouldn't complain either. Matter-of-factly, I had made enough money with my inventions so far to pay her five times the price without seeing much more than a tiny dent in my portfolio.

When we separated, I offered to pay her completely in advance. She told me then, she would 'invite and pick up' the brothers herself instead of waiting for me to have them 'win' a 'visit' in her clinic. Lastly, she had to confess, it would probably take between half a year and a bit over a year to have them ready for delivery from the first operation on. No problem. I was in no hurry and thus I had more time to anticipate the promised results.

$$$

In October the next year, I finally received the long longed for message. Carla and Louise were ready to be delivered. It had taken Maryanne more time and costed her more nerves than estimated but finally she had succeeded and she allowed herself to boast, with even better results than anticipated.

Although the operations had been as successful and as perfect as only a hopeless optimist could imagine or dream of, the brothers refused to accept their new reality. They refused to be dilated and somehow managed to rip out the trainings dildos every time and fight over it endlessly. Thus, they had to be drugged and kept unconscious until their new plumbing had healed completely. This had to be done to keep the stitches from tearing open or become infected as much as to keep the new cavity from growing the wrong way back together. While they were knocked out, an ultra-high dose of long-term estrogen and testosterone blockers caused them to grow a nice pair of soft, large breasts each. The hormones cruising their bodies now and being bedridden that long caused them to lose maybe half their muscle mass, but despite all that, they still stubbornly refused to behave other than as the males they no longer resampled and for sure no longer were.

Their pelvises had been widened implanting bone extensions. Body fat had been redistributed to enhance the female shapes further. The fingers had been slimmed down at bone level as much as had the bones of the feet been shaped and aligned to resample the female ideal. The tendons at the heels had shortened themselves from the long time the feet had been in a cast pointing downwards. Thus, they should be more comfortable walking tiptoed or in high-heels and due to the wider hips and changed center of gravity naturally give in to a sexy swing. Still they refused and were determined to stomp along as probably only heavy-built bikers or lumberjacks out for a fight would do. Even if it looked rather funny and not intimidating or manly at all, it was as far away from sexy or female as well.

Since they had to be unconscious for such a long timer, Maryanne had the chance to even experiment with reshaping their skulls and facial structure to more female proportions. Eyes, noses and lips were adjusted to match the girly image. The Adam’s apple was long gone and the voice cords had been altered to produce a higher, sexy mezzo-soprano voice. The hair had grown to reach down up to five inches below their shoulders in the meantime. It had been permed into long, springy, wavy curls and colored honey-blonde. Stubbornly, they still stuck to their male behavioral patterns.

As last resort, Maryanne kept them drugged with a further female hormone cocktail to induce more female longings, although she hated to have to rely on such. The success would be deeper and more immersive when the subject would learn the lessons by acceptance or defeat. With the hormones, it would be more like putting tapestry up and hoping the wall would suck up the pattern deep into its structure. Opposed to it, learning would be like a sponge squeezed in ink again and again and again.

Unexpectedly, there was a sudden break-through though. When one brother (or should I say sister - no, I guess brother was still correct then, although they were female in every other way than their stubborn male self-images) hurt himself severely. He once more had tried to stomp all macho, despite walking on tiptoes and still refusing the support of the sling-back high-heeled stilettos as well as the necessary help of a nice C cup-sized lace-covered soft bra for his magnificent rack. He ended crashing heavily on the edge of some stairs next to the vanity. 'Unfortunately', he broke his lowest set of ribs 'beyond repair' and they 'had to' be removed. After that he had to wear a corset until his ribcage was fully healed and 'unfortunately, too,' the corset had to be laced rather tight to give enough support. When the corset could be removed, 'Louise' had a much thinner waist than Carl and 'Carla' suddenly didn't want to be the fat cow with the barrel-waist.

Soon Carl had an 'accident', too, (remarkably, even without Maryanne's 'encouragements' or 'help', this time) and 'strangely' 'lost' the same lower set of ribs as Louise had, too, as well as some significant inches of waist. This then was, of course, in the process of Maryanne's 'selflessly' provided 'help' and 'care' to repair the accident’s damages. Suddenly, Carla had something to compete with Louise again, but while Carl(a) had been knocked out, Louise gained another lead.

Louis had been bored tremendously and started to notice to 'her' mirror image. First he talked to 'her' as if chatting up his next girlfriend, but then (s)he began to talk to her 'sister' about where she(!) lacked in looks and could use a little help and improvement(!!!) and not much later she started to apply makeup on her own doing to fix those shortcomings. Of course, first, the attempts were rather like a child's using her mother's makeup for the first time, but some strategically 'forgotten' fashion journals and teen magazines showed her, where she went wrong or too far, how to coordinate, how to apply and how to find the suitable stuff.

Thus, when Carla came back from her ribcage surgery she felt the ugly duckling and left behind again. In no time, she were struggling to learn herself about the makeup artistry, her sister could already master effortlessly. Once more in human history, a fight triggered by (male) pride and/or stubbornness brought down and sealed its participants' doom - funny enough, this time it was the doom of their male/macho/bully minds. Soon Carla and Louise (since at latest now, only the female form could apply in earnest) competed for the best looks, sexiest clothes and gait, the most seducing makeup and best flutter of the 'most perfectly' glued-on false eyelashes. They competed on everything - how to sit, to walk, to talk, to be the most girlish or ladylike. They challenged each other who could the flawless make-up the fastest and who could reproduce a certain look from the Glamor Girl the most accurately. Surprisingly, no matter, who won, they ended up giggling and snickering like schoolgirls. No one could honestly see the former bullies in those girly-girls, tickling each other, anymore.

The tickling became more and more sensual and sooner than not climaxed in hot make-out sessions or lesbian lovemaking or sweet exploring of their new female anatomy. That always ended in long caring embraces and falling asleep in each other's arms happy smiles still plastered on the cute faces hours later. Especially, when some vibrators (loaded and safety released, so-to-say) 'appeared' conveniently in previously empty drawers of their nightstands and came into play for a few hours. After that, the brothers were gone for good and replaced by sisters and sex kittens.

§§§

As foretold all those months ago, I had rented a cabin in the woods. It was more than 30 miles away from any settlement. It sat at the shore of a lake surrounded by thick forest and high steep mountains. There was no creek draining the lake with its only flow subsurface. Thus, no one could follow the course of water to get back to civilization. No one was the wiser in which direction to climb the mountains either, because even from atop of the surrounding mountains you just saw more mountains but no path, no street, no sign of human live. The only suitable way to get there and away was by helicopter or tiny hydroplane, which could land on and take-off from the water of the lake.

I told my parents and employees I would be gone for the winter months to work on a new technology. I carried on, it would require my undivided attention and since I trusted no one in this delicate phase, I would be out of communication and at an unrevealed location for some time and they could save their energy attempting to find me because they won’t.

I would leave all my communication devices, computers and such at home. I bought new ones - each in a different town quite aloft from my home. I avoided buying this stuff while on business trips or on private trips, people knew I was undertaking. But while on the business trips, I would always withdraw some extra money, which that way wouldn't seem too unusual. After collecting it and carrying this stash of cash around, it surely couldn’t be traced back to me or my accounts. I would only use cash, fake addresses and IDs when purchasing new equipment. Thus, I could even prevent buying a burner phone, since this would probably attract more attention in a deserted area than an ordinary one but registered on an inconspicuous name.

When I went on those shopping trips, I would go by public transport not carrying any electronic devices with me. The purchased devices went still dissembled in a rented underground container until I transferred them over to the cabin. Probably being a bit too paranoid but probably not, I avoided to carry any of my old devices close to where the new ones were as well as I avoided to bring the new ones anywhere close to my home, workplaces or favorite places. Last on my list, I bought a small 1980 Toyota town car with virtually no electronics beside the digital clock in the dashboard and the EFI. It didn't even possess a radio. Overall, I was as sure as one could be nowadays, that no one would be able to track me down the next half year, and hopeful no one would be triggered to try to begin with.

§§§

With everything prepared to my liking, I drove with my new old car to the small town closest to the cabin using back roads only. Since everything else was already up in the cabin, I parked 'down town', grabbed my little overnight bag and started walking. Not slowed down by deadweight, I managed the five miles through the nearly empty suburban streets to the small airfield in no time. I chartered a helicopter flight and was on my way not much later. We landed out of sight of the cottage and I sent the pilot back. I hiked the short distance to the cottage and took in the view. Everything seemed undisturbed. No footprints, no strange objects or other indication of any human being ever around beside the huge block cabin. I carefully walked over to the terrace avoiding sand spots or muddy patches. I looked around one last time and took in the scenic view of the lake. Then, not able to withstand my excitement any longer I pulled the keys from my pocket and unlocked the door.

Stepping inside I would have thought no one had tempered with the interior for the last months if not for the new round French bed in the middle of the living room and the two sleeping beauties on top of it. As agreed Maryanne had delivered the brothers - uhm - sisters right prior my arrival and left no visible traces how they got here. True to her word, both girls were still sedated and sleeping completely nude huddling in each other's arms.

I walked over to the bed and took in all there was to see. Carla and Louise were simply perfect. Lithe and lissome, womanly hips, pert, round and most impressively naturally grown breasts. Long slender legs and not a single hair on their bodies below their thin, arched brows beside two heart-shaped patches of soft hair above their changed sex. Their faces were perfect and incredibly cute. Their arms had lost all manly contours and the bulging muscles, which inflicted so much pain and the feeling of inferiority on me. Now slim as pixies’, they for sure lacked their former power. To round things up, their feet were now slim and feminine, too, and even when relaxed, pointed downwards. I could almost hear them craving for beautiful high-heeled pumps.

Originally, I had planned leaving the newly minted sisters naked for the first few days. Probably, having them soon begging for clothes and shoes or if I was lucky enough for my cock. However, at that sight, I was drawn to change my plans slightly. I went to the bedroom and opened the closet. There was not much inside. Some flimsy, short, lacy nightshirts and teddies and some see-through lingerie. Apart from that, one side held pairs and pairs of sexy high-heels, stilettos and sandals - none with less than four-inch high heels. I picked up some beautiful black strappy high-heeled sandals. They looked rather delicate and soft, but they were enforced with steel cords in most of the thin leather straps and next to the buckle there was a tiny but sturdy lock.

Excited, I rushed back into the main room. The sisters were still asleep. I slipped the sandals on their tiny feet and was surprised once more, how accurate Maryanne had met her own specifications after my suggested sizes. I locked the sandals in place and sat myself in an easychair facing to the bed. I spent the next 30 to 40 minutes just sitting there and watching them sleep while admiring the manifestations of my special kind of revenge. I was just about to guess what would lay ahead of me in terms of sexual future when they began to stir and to wake up.

They woke up almost at the same time, slowly first but then with vehemence. At first, they cuddled sleepily as if waking in a safe place from a pleasant dream on a Sunday morning, but suddenly they had bolted upright within seconds apart from each other. They looked around a bit frightened taking in their new surroundings until their eyes met mine. They tried to crawl away and then to cover themselves as they discovered the bed was round and left not much space between them and me. However, the day cover was tucked under well and they were still sitting on it. Still keeping an eye on me, they jumped off the bed from the far side off me and fled to the door. I watched fascinated as they moved gracefully like nymphs or does although they had just woken up and never worn those shoes before. Nevertheless, they didn't struggle the tiniest bit. Maybe, they were too accustomed to running on tiptoes to register the shoes in their panicked mindset.

I had left the door unlocked intentionally. So they turned the knob, opened the door, possibly surprised it actually opened, and then stopped after a few steps out still on the terrace. They took in the magnificent view and incredible huge wilderness although I am sure rather shocked than appreciating. There was a sudden gush of cool evening breeze and suddenly, the girls became aware of their state of undress.

Hanging their heads, they slowly returned into the well-heated room and to being protected from the ruthless elements and looming wilderness. Then Louise closed the door leaning against it from the inside and catching her breath. Carla was leaning against Louise's shoulder looking frightened and for support. I observed them fascinated and impressed upon their perfection and ostensibly natural womanhood. If I hadn't known better - no, make that - although I knew better, I would never guess or had any oh so little reason to doubt them being anything else than they appeared to be. Beautiful, perfect women! The fright and the cold breeze had triggered their nipples to go erect. It was unbelievable how complete and real the transformation had become and in what relatively short time at that. Their nipples were pink and as big as pencil erasers and the areolas as big as quarters. Just the size I love.

I kept sitting motionless and taking in the sight. Now Louise watched me, too. I think it took some time and grinding wheels, but finally you could see recognition grow on her face.
"Humpdee-Dumpdee! Humphrey!!!", she shouted half of surprise and excitement, half of relief, I guess. I twitched slightly at the almost forgotten nickname, but soon recovered from its impact. After all, I had won and got my revenge and played the winning trump, hadn't I.

Their faces fell back to more frightened expressions after the short-lived joy of recognition had passed and yielded to sorrow of what I was doing here. Probably, they even regretted bullying me, but maybe it was just shame for being naked in front of their erstwhile victim. Like captured wild animals, they tentatively came back to the bed and sat down, all the time facing me and keeping their distance and a bodily tension as if ready to flee again. With their lithe and weak bodies and those big eyes, they reminded me off does. I smiled at that inwardly and had to fight hard for not showing on the outside. Yes, I had my revenge. I had won!

I laid down what lay ahead for them from now on. They were weak. They were female. They were naked. They were at my mercy. I didn't tell them exactly where we lived now, only that the cottage was now their whole world. They were free to go, but it would be more than 30 miles through tough wilderness to the next settlement and I wouldn't tell them in which direction. There might be wolves, bears and cougars out there just waiting for such tender meat. Furthermore, even if they could avoid or escape them they would still be naked and the mountains around would be covered in snow soon. I would be the only one around here wearing clothes. Since they were still taller than me and had much more up front as well as much wider hips and tights nothing of my clothes would fit them. (Tactically, I had brought only no-stretch textiles and rather skinny ones at that with me.)

Meaning they would be naked and in high-heels out in the woods and mountains trying to climb or outrun predators while not freezing to death. Or they could fulfill my needs, stay here with me, will be looked after and taken care of, with a place to live, maybe even clothes - make that sexy, lacy, flimsy clothes, but clothes anyway, something to eat and somewhere to sleep (with me). Finally yet importantly, with me they didn't need to pretend to be some big, male bullies, gone missing and somehow re-appearing as some kind of pixies. Also, no need to pretend to be some kidnapped or missing girls without memory or whatever story they would come up with to explain their existence or the absence of IDs. Instead, they could live a careless life in luxury with only minimal effort to satisfy me and keep themselves sexy and ready.

With everything in the open and all I intended to say said, I went to the master bedroom to leave them to mull over the facts and proposals. I was already sure of its outcome. Therefore, I undressed and slipped under the heavenly soft and cozy comforter. I had lowered the setting of thermostat in the living room a few degrees when I left them. As soon as Carla and Louise began to shiver and found the day cover of their French bed wouldn't move, I was sure they would join me rather sooner than later.

It took a surprisingly long time but when they finally entered the master bedroom, they were shy, demure and submissive. I was astonished, but happy. Probably Maryanne had succeeded far better than we both thought and hoped. The girls apologized timidly and almost childish, before asking for permission to share the bed with me and to crawl under the blankets. When asking me this, they grew beet-red and looked at the floor. As if impersonating 4-year-olds, shy little girls if that image had not been betrayed by their womanly figures.

Like performing a noble act, I waved them over and lifted the comforter on both sides of me. The message was clear and as much as Louise or Carla wanted to lay next to each other at least, they obeyed. Louise slipped in left of me while Carla rushed under the covers to my right. I shoved my arms underneath their backs and pulled them closer. I got another pleasant surprise. As I said, I have never been a work-out guy or into fitness or muscles, but I had no problems at all to pull both girls to me at the same time. They were not only much weaker than before but also much more light-weighted. I could easily handle them or take them on now. Now I was sure, Maryanne's worries those two could be too much for me, had no foundation anymore. They weren't a handful, but because they not much more than a hand full now.

The next and even more pleasant surprise came after I pulled them to me. They had turned on their sides and now two beautiful full and pert pairs of magnificent breasts pressed warm and soft against my sides. It overwhelmed me anew how perfect they had become. Their skin was as smooth and as soft as any girl's I had ever met. They were as real as they could get without being born as girls. Even some genetic girls might not be as close to the ideal as they were. After a few stiff moments (no, not that stiff moment! Although there clearly was some blood working on it) they relaxed a bit, threw their arms over my chest, and snuggled closer. They kissed me tenderly, one on each cheek, then laid their heads on my shoulders and were asleep just seconds later. I guess they were exhausted from the drugs and excitements of the day and their lithe bodies could not store so much energy.

Now it was my uncomfortable situation keeping me awake. Aroused and in bed with the most beautiful girls I had ever met and then pinned down by their cute heads, soft breasts and bodies and wrapped by their long, slender, smooth and hairless legs. My erection was standing at attention but did not receive any. I couldn't reach it and I would not get anywhere that night. Finally, my frustration and excitement of the day took its toll, too, and I fell in Morpheus' arms.

When I awoke, I felt two heavy weights pressing on my chest and a tender but strong grip around my shaft. I think I even felt some long sharp fingernails. That hand was not my hand! My eyes flew open and I saw a wicked smile close up. Carla and Louise had each positioned one of their boobs on my chest and while Carla still slept against my shoulder, Louise was watching my face while gently stroking and kneading my morning wood. I was just about to relax when Louise dove under the covers as her hand was replaced by something warm and moist. Some sucking and the bobbing of her head told me it were her mouth and tongue. I couldn't stand it very long before I shoot a big load down her throat which she consumed without stopping her motions as if she had greedily waited for it or even appreciated it.

Louise returned to lay next to me, snuggled closer smiled and then started kissing me. First my neck, chin and cheek, then my nose and finally my lips. When she kissed my lips, her tongue darted in my mouth and I tasted something musky and salty. Before my overloaded one-track-brain registered, I had a mouthful of my own cum in my mouth. As stunned and off balance as I was, I could't come up with anything but to swallow. Louise stopped only shortly to smile at me then continued ravishing my lips with hers.

Carla must have awaken, too. Because suddenly I felt soft lips engulfing my flaccid dick again. Only it didn't stay flaccid for long. As soon as he started to harden, Carla climbed on top of me and brushed her clit with my glans. After a few strokes she lowered herself onto me - engulfing my inches with her other lips and moist cavity. Louise still tortured my lips and tongue with hers. Therefore, it was hard to keep track of all those hot inputs and to divide my attention between those two hot girls. Any thought about the former bullies or original gender vanished and was replaced by insatiable lust for those 'as real as they get' girls.

Over the next two weeks we made love, we had orgies, we ravished each other full of pure lust and sexual hunger. We did it in pairs while the third was watching. We 69ed while the third found ways to heighten the others' pleasure. We often fell asleep in each other's arms, only to be awaken by the first one awake testing ways to get us going again.

Dear god, the girls really kept us going and going. Soon, fear crept up to me I couldn't keep up with them for much longer. I still got as hard as fast and as often as at the beginning of our adventure, but I became more and more exhausted, a bit sore in places and I seemed to fall asleep much faster and then would sleep much longer. When I 'finally' woke up the girls were always eagerly waiting for me and our next romp in the sheets. I tried to slow them down or to decline them their fun, but the girls wouldn't take a no as a no and continued to integrate me in their games and challenges as before or maybe even more so. Of course, it couldn't go on forever. I am only just a man and as I said no honk or top-athlete. Thus, the inevitable happened. One evening - I think after satisfying each of them the fourth time that evening - I simply blacked out on top of Louise.

§§§

When I became conscious again, I was cold. Something felt wrong, but I couldn't pinpoint, what it was. I just lay there on top of the covers a few moments longer, before I opened my eyes. I was facing the high wooden ceiling of the main room of the cottage. So obviously, I lay on top of the French bed and therefore I had no covers, of course. The temperature was still set to rather cool. Beside from the cool, there was still something else disturbing me rather well, but only on a subconscious level. Not so subconsciously, something was strangling me a bit around the neck. I moved my hands up there and my fingertips brushed something like a dog's collar. When a 'What?' escaped my lips, I got a severe electric shock from it. Muttering 'WTF' in consequence earnt me another shock this time with a much higher intensity. I almost fainted and that luckily kept me from ushering further endangering noises.

When I had calmed down some I investigated the collar. It was made of heavy leather, seemingly fitted with studs and rivets, and some kind of electronics in a thickened part, but, as far as I could tell by now, not with a lock or a buckle. I raised my upper body and propped myself on my elbows to look down at myself and this time fainted for real.

When I became conscious once more, I wasn't sure I was awakening from a really bad dream. So I kept my eyes shut as daring fingers found the collar as subconsciously and fearfully expected, before they went on a quest south. Beyond a soft patch of pubic hair, they only found a void. Okay, not really a void - more a stump of what there had been once before. My numbed brain registered an alien feeling from my fingers and from what my dick was left of my dick. My eyes snapped open again and I looked down. I got the impression my dick was chopped off right at its base. What was left of the cavernous body and spongy body of my erstwhile penis seemed to remain in form of just a little nub the size of a dime with a tiny hole a little off-center. The skin covering it appeared to be still heavily scarred and pinkish, as if burnt and badly healed. I guess, the hole was what was left of my urethra.

It took quite some time to take in the shock I got from just looking at the ruins of my once male pride. When I was able to process further impressions, I became aware that my ball sack was still there and intact. Only difference from before (if you overlooked the absence of my little man - and no there is absolutely no pun intended) was a silvery band running around its 'neck' like a tie. It didn't hurt or prevent the blood circulation, but it was too narrow to pull it down or shove even one of my balls upwards through it. I am sure since I tried a lot of times and THAT hurt like hell.

Finally, I gave up. I would obviously be living with a silvery band around the base of my ball sack for some time. How hard could that be? If I leave it alone it will leave me alone kind of logic, but then again what could I do and what would it hurt to leave it there? It is not as if anybody would be seeing it out here in the woods.

While I tried to get rid of it, I had felt some kind of tucking between my bottom cheeks. The silvery band ran straight to and vanished between them into my sphincter. Confused I had to admit, all this stress, fear and tucking got me somewhat aroused. It felt like a hard-on approaching. Despite this, all I got was some strain and a draw in the skin where my buddy once had been. A few drops of precum appeared from the tiny hole and ran down my scrotum. As if it shed a tear about what was lost.

I was still cold. I looked around, but there was nothing to cover me up. In a corner stood a chair and something black was thrown over it. I walked there and became even more aware of my cold feet and the cold floor. When I picked up the piece of cloth it unfolded some more and presented itself as something black and white and lacy and satiny. I turned it a bit this way and that and thereby discovered, it was a tiny French maid's costume. Maybe just a part of it? There was a black skirt sewn to a short bodice. Both made from soft, black satin or silk. Under the skirt some white lacy stuff bobbed out pointing in all directions like a disc.

I tried to cover myself with it, but it was nearly impossible to cover anything with the lace sticking out quite rigidly. I held it in front of me - between thumb and pointer finger only at the top of the bodice on each side. The skirt immediately formed a perfect disc supported by the lace underneath. While the bodice seemed wide enough to probably fit me, it would barely cover more than my belly. I wondered what girl would fit in such an attire when the curiosity hit me hard. I strained my ears and looked around but I was sure I was alone. Quickly I stepped into the bodice and drew it up over my hips.

The black skirt stood out like a tutu of a ballet dancer. The lace below supported this impression, too. The bodice hung rather lose to the front. Therefore, I searched around the back a bit and when I found the zipper, I zipped it shut. The bodice fit snuggly now, but as I had assumed barely reached my rips. At least, my kidneys would be covered now. However, this was not in focus of my mind at that moment, but the zipper was. When I pulled it up, it had suddenly made a clicking noise and as much as I pulled, pushed, turned and tore, it didn't move the tiniest bit any more. Despite its delicate appearance, I was not able to tear it apart or loosen it in any way.

I was stuck in this attire. At least my kidneys became a bit warmer and I felt a bit warmer and somehow (strangely enough) more decent. On the other hand, my chest, my buttocks and pubic region especially my lonesome ball sack were still in plain view and for all the world to see. Luckily, I was still alone and maybe could come up with something before exposure to the world.

With the piteousness of my pubic leftovers out of sight - at least my view was blocked by this tutuesk skirt - I could think a bit clearer. I began to wonder where Carla and Louise were. Cautiously, I creeped in direction of the master bedroom. Still, there were no noises beside my own breathing and the elements outside. I peered inside and the room was empty. The comforter was missing and the closet was empty. Only a single pair of red stiletto sandals remained in the back of the closet.

I observed them for a while as if they would jump at me any moment. Unexpectedly, the remained unanimated, silent and absolutely not in the mood to savage me. I picked one up and had a long look. The pencil-thin and ultra-long heel fascinated me. I could not imagine how anybody could walk in such impractical footwear not to mention on such high and thin heels. At the same time, this thought intrigued me more and more. If 1 millions of women could achieve this, why should men or more precise me not be able to do so, too? Would I be able to stand or even to walk in such shoes? I laughed at the thought of stumbling around and finally breaking my neck and then someone would find my dead body in high-heels and tutu.

Immediately, I put the shoe back down. But curiosity kills the cat - or those heels me? I picked the stiletto up again and sat down on the bed. Still no more dangerous than say a toothbrush or a sock, I studied the shoe some more. It was a plateau sandal with probably three inch plateau and the heel therefore was eight to nine inches long but not as thick as my pinky. Despite or maybe therefore, it looked still delicate and elegant. The straps were thin and soft red leather and would enclose the foot above the ankle. There was a small buckle designed like a butterfly with its wings apart while open.

I put it down in front of me and slipped my foot in. Surprisingly, it fitted like a glove. My heel was lifted and my calf was strained but this caused it to look sexy rounded, too. I turned my foot a bit to have a better view from the side, but since the straps weren't closed the sandal slid around and almost off. I pulled at the straps and held the butterfly wings close to each other, careful not to close them, but suddenly they were drawn to each other as if by a strong magnet. They connected, snapped shut and a click confirmed my fear of locking them in place. I struggled with the wings, but there was no visible lock or release and now it appeared as if made of a single piece of metal.

When I turned my foot then the stiletto stayed on as designed. Wouldn't it have been sprouted from my foot I would thought of it as sexy as hell... okay, I still found it incredibly sexy then - even on my foot. The remains of my dick thought so, too, and I felt a strain and pain from the scarred skin between my legs.

With no way to get rid of the shoe, there was nothing left to do but trying to stand up. It was easier than I thought. With the other foot flat on the floor I was still balanced and simply stood up. A bit like as if on a step. On the other hand, now the shoed leg felt 10 inches too long. I had to keep the knee bent quite a bit and couldn't really place my foot down. When I tried to straighten the knee the other foot rotated freely in the air as if slacklining. Sighing, I gave up and wobbled back into the closet. I stepped into the other sandal. Since the hold without closing it was again too weak and the second shoe would not add much on top of my current dilemma in form of the maid's dress and the first high-heel, I snapped the second one's straps close, too. It fastened itself and was not to open again.

A bit more wobbly than on the way in, I left the closet. Nevertheless, it was surprisingly easy to walk in those skyscraper-heels. That is, as long as I could stabilize myself with one hand against the wall and slowly walk the flat hardwood floor. On the other hand, it felt surprisingly high - much higher than I had expected. In the end, it were just shoes, right!?! For a man, shoes are not related to elevated heights. I felt like 6'8" to 7" tall. Okay, it was more like 6'3", but I felt like Gulliver.

I walked around the room some more trying to find my balance. It became a tiny bit easier with every step and soon it was okay as long as I moved. I had to concentrate on not to twist my ankle or stumble when lifting and lowering one foot, but it was more or less okay. Only when I stopped I started to wave like a willow. Always in danger of toppling over back or forth.

I felt the need to relief myself, so I went to the bathroom. I was no longer afraid to collide with somebody or about someone could see me like this, but I was again walking slowly and carefully. Only now, I did so to not break my neck or some bones. Additionally, the tutu didn't make it any easier since I could not see where or how I placed my feet exactly.

When I finally entered the bathroom, I was shocked to the bone. I faced the large mirror and thereby myself or what was left of it. My legs appeared to be incredible long and slender due to the additional height of the stilettos. The maid's dress slimmed down my waist visually without actually slimming me even a single inch. Since the tutu still spread out in a circle around me, I could clearly see my groin region and it looked even more ridiculous facing it from that angle than before.

Even when growing up I had already thought the male genitals were a joke of nature. One ball hanging lower than the other one, the ball sack strangely shriveled and wrinkly and then the strangely formed dick hanging bent to one side and tipped with the strange formed glans. Everything else in nature usually seems aesthetical, symmetrical and fitting. When you look at slim young girls or women with pert breasts, they appear as well designed as a dolphin or a panther. Sleek, streamlined and flawless. Men on the other side, look like the penis was added on a whim or as a last minute change without asking the chief designer. Maybe it really was meant as a bad joke to see how men would cope with this.

Anyway, now it looked even more ridiculous. There was no neat triangle, but a void, scarred, bald spot with the tiny hole in it and underneath the scrotum now in plain view. This didn't exactly help its visual presentation - quite the opposite. Do you remember the alien in MIB with the scrotum below his chin? Yeah, that ridiculous!

Luckily, I could not waste much time looking at me since my bladder actually called for its right with vehemence then. So, I sat down. What else should I do with nothing to hold or to aim with? I wasn’t embarrassed by this. Why should I? Okay, it is nice to be able to stand and point while taking a leak e.g. in the wilderness or a public restroom and I always peed standing when it was possible before. On the other hand, I guess all men have sat on a toilet seat at least once in their life without being ashamed. Like most, I have always sat down when I had to poop and it wasn't as if sitting down to pee was a woman-only domain or a faggot thing to do. I know of 'non-gay' men doing it because they have to clean the toilet themselves and like to do so as few times as possible and sitting down certainly helps there, too.

Anyway, I sat down and let go as I was used to and it felt and worked almost the same. It sprayed a bit more. Maybe the most embarrassing thing was, now the stream shoot out straight ahead and I over the bowl. Thus, I had to lean forward quite a bit to not wet the floor in front of me (further). Beside that, there was not much to write home about. That is until the pressure diminished. The remaining fluid started to tinkle down the scarred skin and the front of my scrotum. Now that was strange and humiliating. It felt as if I had wetted myself and the warm liquid tinkled down and stimulated some nerves and reflexes in the sack’s skin. When I tried to shove it back out of the way, I peed on my hand. Uhhg! Humiliating plus one as it clashed with my upbringing.

Disgusted, I cleaned myself when I had finally finished and patted myself dry. While I touched the paper towels to the skin below my peehole I brushed the silvery band, too. This reminded me of the string and the tugging from before. I placed a knee on the edge of the sink and then started to pull gently at the string. The tucking at my butthole intensified and the resistance inside my bowels increased. I tucked a bit harder and felt something bigger press against my sphincter from the inside. I tried to concentrate on and to relax those muscles and finally managed to pull a silvery egg out of my derriere.

The egg was connected to the silvery band. Beside this, where that left the egg, it had no seams and no lock and no other disturbance or something to remove it. The band could not be detached or loosened as far as I could see. Soon, I got distracted, when only half a minute or so after I had retrieved the egg from my insides the band started to warm up. Slightly noticeable at first, but after a bit it heated gradually up some more every few seconds. Now I tried to remove the band even more furiously than before, but nothing worked. When the heat and pain got almost unbearable I did the only thing I hadn't tried - I vehemently shoved the egg back where the sun don't shine. The heat and the pain vanished immediately.

I left the bathroom without another look around or in the mirror. I was too occupied with those last experiences. I was deep in thought while passing the bedroom and entering the main room to sit down exhausted, that I noticed just much much later, I had been walking around on my stilts without much thought or effort. Soon after that, I started to examine the cottage.

Basically, it was more or less as I remembered before falling asleep. A bit more chilly and the closets were empty. My phone and stuff was missing and so was the key for Carla's and Louise's high-heels. In the fridge, there were some salad and some vegetables, but most of the other food was gone. When I glanced outside through a window, I could see Indian summer had progressed quite a bit and would end soon. The leaves were yellow and red, hardly green anymore and partly gone. The lake gave a chilly impression, too, and the mountaintops had an icing of snow in some spots. Had I really been out for three weeks if not more?

My expedition brought up not much more than that I might starve or freeze to death here and now I was the one with no chance of rescue or escape. Nobody knew where I was and nobody would start looking for me or would even think I could be in need of help or rescue. The thought made me shudder some more and reminded me of the cool air inside. Thus, before I broke down crying I stalked over to the front door and turned the knob. It was still unlocked. Then again, where should I go if not back inside? Still, I stuck my head out and looked around. Everything was void and silent. Nobody nearby here, too, as far as I could detect.

I opened the door some more and stepped out on the porch. I looked around again and listened intensively, but I appeared to be the only living creature beside trees, bushes and grass in miles around. Hurriedly, I tip-tapped around the veranda to the side of the cottage. There I still found the firewood I had stacked there in summer. I cut down some scales with a hatchet leaning there against the wall, before picking them up together with a few big logs and soon was tip-tapping even faster back inside. I left the hatchet where I had found it. If it would be good for anything else beside the firewood, whoever took the rest of my stuff would surely have taken it, too.

Already chilled to the bones, mentally and bodily, I hurried to the fireplace and started a fire. Luckily, it worked on the first try and soon my shaking from exhaustion and cold stopped.

While I sat in front of the fireplace hugging myself and slowly getting warmer, I had heard a faint noise. I wasn't too sure but it could have been a helicopter taking off. I ran to the porch window, but there was nothing to see but darkening void and spacious nature. I was about to get back to sit in front of the fire when the door opened and Carla and Louise came in. They were both dressed to the nines in pantsuits, women’s business pantsuits that is, hugging every curve and accentuating their perfect bodies. They were carrying a small flight case each and rolling in two big suitcases.

They stopped dead in their tracks and dropped their luggage. I was about to flee the room, but where to and why. After all, they most likely cause my current predicament and surely planned to get me in the stuff, I was wearing, anyway. Therefore, I just stood there like a deer in the head lights of oncoming traffic. After flashing shortly a startled expression, Louise' face morphed into a sugar-sweet, motherly, but surely fake smile. She told me, how nice it was to see me up and dressed adequately for my new position. Then she informed me, that Humphrey or Humpdee-Dumpdee would no longer seem appropriate. They would start calling me Heidi (pronounced Hi-Dee) or Deedee. I was expected to call them Mistress, since I obviously 'chose' and 'wanted' to be their maid. Why else would I be dressing that way? My attempt to deny or explain differently, was cut short with an enraged look and non-negotiable instructions.

First, they ordered me to take their luggage to the master bedroom. Then I would have to go outside, pick up some boxes and store their content in the kitchen cabinets and fridge. I was too startled to move, so Louise did something with her watch and suddenly my butt started buzzing. This startled me some more. Therefore, Louise touched her watch again. This time the silvery band heated up significantly and then I received what I reckon were mild electric shocks back and front. Louise smiled at me with bared teeth. I couldn't really place that smile. Malicious, sneaky, superior, expectant, amused or maybe disgusted or a mix of all or some of them morphing into each others.

Louise tapped her watch once more. This time everything going on down there stopped. She pointed at the luggage, gave me an upwards nod. Without giving me any further look, she then turned around and went over to the fireplace to enjoy its warmth herself. Carla giggled at me before joining Louise. Both their backs remained turned to me. I felt like in twilight zone and as if in trance, I fulfilled my assigned tasks. I was even only mildly surprised that I had no issues with the weight and my heels - afterwards. While I was at it, I simply fulfilled my 'job'(?) and it was as if I had done so in this my outfit all the time.

When I had put all the clothes and food away as ordered, I went where the sisters had settled down on comfy chairs near the fireplace. I performed something rather resampling some kind of the-restroom-is-engaged-dance, since I was unsure if I had to and if so, how to curtsy. Louise noticed and erupted in barks of laughter. Carla followed her lead only seconds later. To me, this was the closest to the bullies or boys I had known, that I had seen in them in weeks. I had almost completely forgotten their origin and our strained past.

Louise told me, we - meaning I - would work on this. Among a lot of other things. Then SHE told ME what my future would be like - as I had done to them all those weeks ago. She didn't really have to mention, that I was far far far away from any help and from any human outpost. Nevertheless, she mentioned the snow, which was expected the next days. Probably we would soon be snowed in and for the next three to four months, there wouldn't be any way out of here - apart from through the air. Except of course, one of us - me - would be an experienced high-alpine mountaineer or an ice climber or something similar. But even then, I would need the proper equipment, which I hadn’t. That brought forth new and louder barks of laughter due to their pun.

Anyway, I would have a lot of time to learn how to be a proper maid and they would have a lot of time at their hands to help me. For sure, they would point out my flaws and maybe they would even stoop to bring me on my way to be a devoted sex slave as well. Should that be 'my wish', they would love to provide me with all the toys, I would ask for or even 'not dare' to ask for. Regardless, first I could prove myself beneficial and prepare some dinner and the table. Since 'we girls' would have to watch our figures - me more than them regarding my 'surprisingly' male-like appearing belly and waist - a nice salad would be just right.

I did as told and was allowed to join them for dinner. On one hand, because we had just one dinner table and on the other hand, they wanted to revel in my new prospects of live.

It began, when they informed me that while I had been asleep during our first two weeks, one of them would have left the bed to search the cottage and surroundings. The other had watched me sleep and petted me gently to help me relax. That way they had found all my keys, equipment and most-importantly my phone. I learned I had severely underestimated their intellect. Obviously, they were into computers and hacking and stuff. Since I am not, I didn't understand most of it, but condensed it came down to 'they won - I lost everything'.

First, they had unlocked my phone thanks to fingerprint authentication (stupid me thought this was the safest! Though they just needed to press it against my thumb while I was sleeping!). From that point on, they had systematically found out where we were, how to get hold of my accounts and properties, order stuff, get away and back here and so on.

As a juicy bit of information, they gloated over how they recorded me alone at home today. Hence, they could easily proof, that I had dressed myself that way and completely on my own free will without them forcing me and not even in the same building. Obviously, the best-of showed how I had searched for the shoes and put them on as deliberately as later I had shoved the vibrator egg up my rectum without being asked to. Further, it showed how I left the unlocked cabin and returned without anyone around.

While I was still digesting that, they told me more about their doing, while I was out. When they came in possession of some of my money, they started to order things online and had them delivered by drones. The deliveries were dropped outside without me perceiving. Most likely I was too exhausted at those times or asleep. While I was sleeping like a rock one of them would pick things up and hide them for later use. Thus they got sleeping pills, clothes for themselves, surgical equipment and else. When I finally fell asleep that last time, they could knock me out for longer with some black-market shots.

Next, they boasted, how they cut off my dick since I had cut off their dicks before. They cooled it down with ice cubes and surgical ice spray before they cut it off with one sharp cut. Then they quickly sealed up everything by cauterizing it with a wide, burning hot, stainless steel knife, before I could bleed to death. To their on surprise, it worked far better than they expected - not that they cared much after me castrating them. As last step, they had stitched up the left-over skin and shoved in a catheter for the time I was healing. When I stupidly asked, why they left my sack untouched, Carla grabbed it, encompassed it with her hand in one quick grasp and squeezed it. Not really hard, but hard enough to fill my eyes with tears and had me stand on my toes in seconds. When she released her grip after a short eternity, I didn't need to ask no more nor why my skirt stuck out like this or why I had no panties or such.

While I dried my eyes with the back of my hand and tried to find a way to sit down again without further pain, Louise smiled and told me, my balls might fall off rather sooner than later anyway. Somehow, they found out how Maryanne had drugged them with testosterone blockers and high-dosed artificial estrogen cocktails. I received the same dose as Louise in my left buttock and another such dose like Carla's in my right buttock. Consequentially, I might feel the beginning and some results much faster and more impressive. Alternatively, my body might just use-up the same amount of hormones and progress with a similar development instead, while flushing the excessing chemicals out. They had ordered them through darknet channels and one could never be sure what one got.

With the atrophy induced by the hormones, my balls might get sterile, die a silent death and fall off black and shriveled like raisins, joked Carla. At least, I hoped she joked. Not that they did much good without the penile extension, but at least then I could still donate some sperm and father kids. Big IF - if I was rescued somehow. Slim hope, but a hope anyway. However, Carla continued to tease me mercilessly, that I would never get a hard-on again. Same as I had denied them and since I did it to both of them, they had decided to cut of the tip as well. Double revenge by denying me any penile relief for the rest of my life. I would get excited with no vent to blow off the steam. I guess that was the main reason to leave the balls untouched. I still would feel the itch that I couldn't scratch, if you know what I mean.

To prove this, Carla did something to her watch and I felt something buzz inside me. The vibrator buried inside me stimulated some sweet spot. But every time I felt something close to excitement the silvery band grew hot or zapped my balls like a stun gun or a hot needle. Despite all that, I soon began to moan and sweat and swear and shout for relief. Carla tapped her watch and everything stopped. Beside my horniness and frustration! I had never been as frustrated and as aroused as in that moment in all my life before. My body begged for relief but I had none to give. I even skidded on the cushion back and forth like a lapdog on the carpet. That did nothing for me, despite being mercilessly laughed at by the girls.

During the evening, they told me more about their preparations. They had equipped the cottage with lots and lots of spy cams and detectors. I would never be alone or without being watched. There was no place to hide and no place to go. They could zap me, stimulate me and watch me from everywhere they were and as they saw fit.

If I thought I could manhandle them because they were weaker now, I better should think again. They had been trained in jujitsu since they were kids. Their advanced level would not require lots of muscular power. It was more about skills and techniques, which they had plenty still. They might not be a match for their sensei but for a bookworm like me, it would be more than enough. Further, they had more ways to control me than the watches and I better would not insist on figuring them out. Because learning those ways the hard way would be much more painful for sure.

During the next months I learned some of those anyway, when I felt I had to draw a line and was stubborn or reluctant and sometimes simply too tired and I can tell you painful and humiliating they were. Too humiliating to write them down here. This might be my last dignity after all the things I have gone through during those last months.

I became their maid and their project and their distraction. They had me train to deep-throat and shove things up my other end. I learned to lick them to ecstasy and clean afterwards. I learnt to use my fingers on them the most satisfying way (for them) or to stand still or hold still for hours. I learned to cook, to clean and to do all the chores that came to their minds. Since the cottage wasn't that big and it was just the three of us there wasn't much of housework, but plenty of project time. With them bored and inventive and me the project to work on!

I was on diet most of the time. Additionally, I had to cut firewood and chop it as a workout. As long as the lake wasn't frozen over I had to swim 5 minutes every day. This might not sound much but I wasn't allowed to take off the shoes and the water was freezing cold. Soon my maid's costume would become too big for my waist. Then a drone would arrived with a new costume of similar style, but now it contained a corset. The next time a smaller one and the third time an even smaller one not so much later. Thus, in spring I had a rather shapely figure - kind of an hourglass figure even despite my narrow hips. My derriere had filled in a bit and so had my chest. I wasn't sure since I was always bare chested, but I might sport A-cup-sized breasts or small B-cup-sized ones. As said before, the corsets had no cups, only cloth around my midriff and a stiff skirt like on my first costume. Therefore my new roundness were always accessible and in plain view.

Due to the hormones, I had stopped shaving around Christmas and my skin was soft and my hair long, healthy and shiny. My face had soften, too. Not that there was much male squareness to soften from the start. As 'Christmas present' Carla had plucked my brows into thin arches and Louise had filed and polished my nails to an elegant, female shape. I kept them in a slutty red as my lips now - not by choice, mind you. As their guinea pig, pupil and 'willing' victim I had to test all sorts of styles and make-up while learning the finer arts with me as canvas.

Then as spring came around, I had an androgynous look with big amplitude on the female scale. Only male reminiscence was the rather tiny sack with the tiny marbles inside. Thus, when I passed a mirror I more than once registered a girl walking next to me and even on looking in the mirror more intense I failed to see the boy-me more and more and accepted the girl-me staring fascinated back at me. When the snow was mainly gone so was my mind’s image what me the boy and man had looked like. It was just a passing though I could no longer grasp or focus on. Just some blurred reflection of an afterthought.

§§§

Then came the day my tiny world crumpled and my slowly inflated comfy bubble of Stockholm syndrome burst. I had settled into routine and found reassurance in my protected isolation and carefree, undemanding and controlled-by-others piece of world. I lost any ambition, but also any sorrow. I lived from command to command my mind at ease and not a threat to worry about until Carla and Louise told me to pack all their belongings.

When I was done there was not much more than the food in the kitchen, my meager belongings in corsets, make-up and sex toys and what was part of the cottage. They had me sit down at the table with them and then they told me what was to come next.

Obviously, they bought the cottage, the lake and everything in view up to the rim of the mountains around this secluded valley. With my money, of course. After that, they bought a private island somewhere near the Bahamas or Cayman Islands. (They weren't too clear about it, probably to keep me from finding them or sending someone after them and I don't know the Caribbean Sea at all. Are those islands in the Caribbean?) Anyway, I was to stay here. They would hire out the cabin and me as a luxury(?) sex retreat for the rich with me as gofer/maid/slut/sex-slave/furniture.

Somehow, they had found Maryanne and would 'pick her up' on their way south. Then they would find a way to take vengeance for all she did to them before finally selling her drug-addicted body to some whorehouse in Polynesia.

I begged to take me with them and I would be a good girl (yes, I really said and meant it). I pleaded on my knees. I felt like a little girl when the parents go out dancing the first time after being close to them all its life - only twenty times more intense since it would be forever. They told me I would die here if not sold off to some client, too. I cried real tears and endless streams of big tears. My heart ached and my tummy felt empty beside some burning coals in my bowels. But nothing helped.

I sat there on my knees and looked through tear-stained eyes at the closed door hours after they left and took a helicopter. I had been too weak to get up and probably stumble after them begging and calling for mercy. When it became dark, I fell weeping to the floor and lay there until sleep caught me. In my dreams customer after customer hunted me. I was running through the woods on my high-heeled stilettos like a deer, but every time I stumbled and fell I would land on the bed inside the cabin next to the customer smiling like a shark. I would run again and again only to end in bed with him. Finally, I would do all I could to satisfy him and the next customer and the next flight would take over.

Suddenly, Carla appeared in front of me. Huge like a grizzly she stood there laughing. Barking with laughter she told me, I was dead. On my way back home, my helicopter had crashed and all the world knew me gone. She described how my parents and employees had wept at my funeral and how they had wept, too. Then they had inherited all my belongings and left for good. At that, she started laughing and laughing and laughing again until I woke up sweating all over.

Weak I dragged myself over to the kitchen and onto a chair. I contemplated my dreams and I think there was a grain of truth or a look into my future there. Maybe I was too stubborn or too afraid to die alone here. I pulled myself together and made some breakfast. Next, I took inventory of the cabin and my life. I found some pieces of paper and a pen and wrote down all that happened to me so far. Maybe someone would find this 'diary' when I was long gone or I could slip it some of my customers' staff in hope of rescue. But most likely I will be too afraid for this and I won't get this chance anyway. But at least I would not vanished without trying to let the world know of my errors in life.

§§§

I think I am here on my own for more than two week now. I have lost track of time. I do my chores, I eat, sleep and take care of my body. I even swim twice a day just to have some routine and something to occupy my thoughts.

I am not sure what is worse to wait for my first customer and the things he/she/they will do to me. Or is it worse to wait and imagine all those things, going crazy about expecting even harsher and more outrageous treatments every time? Will I become bored enough to wish those things to happen? Will I become addicted to the humiliation or will I blunt and go numb and indifferent to whatever they dish out after a while? Will I be like a caged animal or like an introverted patient of a psychiatric ward? And which would be worse? To vegetate or to be in full awareness of one's own doom?

§§§

Now I sit here and read it all for the hundreds time maybe, when I hear the distinctive sound of chopper blades cutting the air. This means, I will have to hide these pages quickly, then hurry over and kneel next to the door like a slave, arms stretched out in front of me. My palms and elbows flat on the floor as my forehead. My nipples might even brush the wooden planks since my breast still dangle freely and my bare round ass will greet the sun. When the door opens, I will welcome my new master or mistress the way Carla and Louise told me to do firm but submissive. From then on I will be at his/her/their mercy. I hope that I will be able to write some more from time to time, but now I have to hurry as I hear the chopper circle over the cottage.

------------

Epilogue

From my submissive position on the floor I hear the distinctive sound of high-heels on the hard-wood veranda. Confidently coming closer until they stop in front of the door. My heartbeat is booming in my ears. I hardly hear the door open, but my closed eyes register the rays of light suddenly fighting the dim darkness of the cottage.

I take a last breath to find enough strength and say:
"Welcome to the cottage at the lake! I will be at your service whenever you need me. I am here to please you in every way I can. Feel free to ask, to command or to demand anything any time. I will do my very best to fulfill every wish. If I am not up to your expectations, you may punish me in any way you see fit. I am just a humbled slave, a worthless maid, a mere furniture. I am not worth your thoughts or attention. You may call me Heidi, Humphrey, Humpdee-Dumpdee, Deedee or anything you prefer.
Welcome and enjoy your stay! How may I be of service?"

There is a moment of silence. I keep my posture on the floor face against the wood. Then I hear the most angelic sound:
"Heidi, you may rise!"

Trying hard to keep my hopes from rising and my body from trembling I pull my upper body back up and push myself in kneeling but upright position. Slowly I lift my head and open my eyes. Fearing what they will see and confirm or not. There are some fancy high-heels and beautiful legs in front of me. The legs have a slight bronze taint and vanish under a flowery skirt. I look up further and my eyes finally meet Louise's face and a small, but pleased smile. My eyes must have expressed my hopes and worries. Is it real? Am I hallucinating? Is it wishful thinking?
But then the same angelic voice, the one I missed all those long last weeks alone comes from those smiling lips:
"Yes, Heidi, it is me - Louise! Carla is waiting outside. Please, stand up!"

I stumble to my feet like in trance. I seem to have more problems standing up than the first time in high-heels all those months ago. It seems like a lifetime ago or like from a previous life, which it really may be. Louise takes my hand and gently pulls me up. I stand there and stare at her. It must be a dream. Will I wake up soon? Louise has never been that nice to me. She even seems to really care for me.

She walks me over to the table and brings me a glass of water. I gulp it down like after a week in the desert. Louise sits down with me and pats my hand gently.

"Heidi, we are here to take you with us. Not as slave but as friend or mate or at least someone who would enjoy to live with us. You see we have not been very nice or honest to you in the past but your special kind of revenge was our salvation, our rescue - a dream fulfilled."

Over the next half-an-hour or so Louise explains everything to me. When they were kids, they discovered, they were born in the wrong bodies - the wrong gender. They both thought, they should have been born girls instead. Despite having been as close as only siblings or twins possibly can, neither of them confided to the other or to their parents. Instead, each tried to be as macho in front of the other as he could possibly be. They each became the worst bully one could imagine just to outdo the other. They started martial arts to become tougher and stronger and later to harass the kids around.

They thought they could never pass as girls or women. Therefore, they especially hated those kids looking rather feminine and those, which could pass as girls more easily if they wanted (but didn't). Since I was much younger than they were when we first met, I didn't look very male and being small and slim triggered their hate of their pubescent male bodies and my body seemingly mocking them with its potential.

Aside from school, they became very introverted and self-loathing. They even kept distance to each other and secretly (even unaware of the other) they started hacking and stuff. One day the FBI was on their doorsteps but somehow they could deflect this since nobody knew about it. As one brother didn't know the tiniest bit about it from the other the FBI hadn't been able to play one off against the other. Each thought, they tried to trick him with questions, why his brother had done, what he knew he had done himself, and thus to not incriminate himself or to confess, each one remained silent or played clueless and dumb. (Gosh, even trying to write this down boggles my mind!) Further, since their parents and all kids and teachers at school never saw them doing any computer stuff, as bullies and challenged to reach the next grade, maybe the FBI thought some hacker had masked his IP address with theirs. Maybe the FBI just rested their case until they got better evidence. Anyhow, they were lucky and got away with a black eye or a slap on the fingers. Make that almost.

When the FBI was off their heels, their parents called for a family gathering. They told Carl and Louis in absolute clear words that no matter what they told the FBI or that the FBI withdrew the charges, both parents believed Carl and Louis guilty. Further, they were fed up and over with fending off charges for their bully sons. From now on Carl and Louis would be on their own.

They next morning they got the sack. To their parents they were as good as dead. The tuition fee for their next four years of college had already been paid and so was a single room apartment on campus, but beside that, they would have to pay and fight for themselves. They could forgo college or live somewhere else, but then they would have nothing more than the clothes on their backs and a suitcase full of clothes each. They could do in college whatever they wanted. Their parents didn't care. If they failed college, they would have nothing.

Thus, they started college with majors in finance and computer science and electronics. They had jobs waiting restaurants and cleaning offices at night to feed themselves. After college, they started hunting for jobs but the financial crisis from 2008 still lingered and shadowed their chances. They shared a small apartment with two single bedrooms and kept above the water by day-to-day jobs and as freelancers. They still hadn't confided to each other about their gender disorder or whatever it was. With their male pride, meager income and too much shame to confide, there was no way to solve it or get help anyway. Hence, all the money they could afford they rather put into computer parts and small SW projects. They hoped that would drag them out of the morass of financial dependencies somehow in near future. Further hope was it would give them a little freedom to do without the other or at least live separate lives and dressing to their own liking in private then.

They still hadn't reached their goal, when Maryanne's goons caught them off the street and Maryanne did her magic. It wasn't so much resistance to become girls Maryanne was fighting so hard, but the long-imprinted fear to be discovered by the other brother and seen as a sissy, a fag or whatever by the only soul left close to them. That and probably the shame to confess of wanting the transformation Maryanne forced on them.

When that barrier was torn down by Louise's better looks due to that ribcage OP and head start on makeup the competition was on. Finally Carl(a) confessed to Louis(e) and vice versa. Unfortunately, Maryanne didn't catch this or missed it while reviewing the progress. Probably also because Louise and Carla kept fighting the process as they were as Carl and Louis. They thought whoever did this to them, planned to sell them as sex-slaves or such. Further they thought, if they didn't give away, how comfortable and convincing they were or could be, they had a better chance to escape and vanish as soon as they were out of Maryanne's claws and 'feminization jail'.

Therefore, they waited for their move until they were delivered to my cottage. First, they discovered, they were still into girls and were wondering if that made then straight or lesbian. In the end, they didn't care much about it since it was too much fun to discover their new bodies. That also applied to the question of incest. As soon as they had undergone those first 'fatal' operations, they were challenged to see the other still as their brother and thus as family member.

First, they perceived the other one like just a random girl, albeit both knew it was the other brother. But that way, it seemed easier to them to accept their own changes and feelings - in front of a stranger and not the one you were hiding things from all of your life. Then they became kind of girlfriends and lovers out of curiosity and due to missing alternatives. Lastly, that transmuted into true sisterly feelings and love. Maybe some male concepts survived this evolution. Because they still see lesbian sex as okay and hot, but gay intercourse turns them off and caused them to freak out. Strangely, when they joined me in bed, they were as curious as they were turned on, too. They really had the hots for me or at least wanted to be laid for real. Their minds saw them and a male like a threesome with a hot girl or just common sex but nothing disgusting.

They really enjoyed sex with me and now they feel like they are really bi, but with strong accent on the lesbian component. But in the(ir) butt is still disgusting to them since they see that as gay. They had no issue to shove something up my butt though. If they would still own the right tools, they would do it to any girl that way, too, just no boy and not to themselves.

That led to the next big revelation. Although they and even I saw me as a girl, I was none. Okay, you might say 'no news there, aren't there', but that's not what I or they meant. Okay, meanwhile I sported a nice rack, a rather girlish figure, shapely legs and derriere, long hair, arched eyebrows and even a level of estrogen high enough to compete with that of a suburban book club, but beside the obvious eggs-in-a-bag, I still possessed the sausage to go along with them. If I hadn't sat already, latest then I would have crashed helplessly to the floor.

As Louise described it to me, they really intended to cut off my dick as revenge. Nevertheless, they were truly afraid, I would bleed to death and they had really enjoyed my dick during those two weeks before. In the end, they saw it as a bit of a waste and much too harsh, too, since in the end I had (unknowingly) fulfilled them their biggest wishes. I think there was still some male fear of losing what 'defines' a man ingrained deep in their subconsciousness. All that aside, they still wanted to hurt me and didn't come up with any suitable idea but to cut it off. Therefore they started to look for ways to stop the bleeding afterwards or to chop it off with causing the least bleeding wound.

Luckily, they stumbled onto a forum for SRS and transgender specialists. There was one doc describing a solution he used on men - I mean transwomen ready to undergo the RLT. It was mostly reversible and still close to the real thing. He would cut the suspensory ligament of the penis and then would be able to push the penis inside the body - if need should be even behind the pelvic bone. He would push the balls inside the body's cavity, too, and would use surgical glue and a few stitches to form a very rudimentary resamplance of the labias. There would be no vagina and no clit, but it would look like a woman's vulva on not too close inspection. The risk was pretty low and when removing the stitches most would pop back in place on its own. Then a bit of correction surgery and voila as good as new. Although, clearly this wouldn't be the intention of the RLT.

Unfortunately, Carla and Louise were not such (great) surgeons, but still they found a solution. They cut the suspensory ligament, too. For that, they had to cut the skin above my penis. Then they kind of circumcised me and shoved me dick inside. After that, they somehow managed to stitch together the skin from both cuts and leave the glans and urethra unharmed. They entered a tube in the urethra and kept the wound clean for over a week. Since there was a lot of tissue which hasn't been outer skin before and since they didn't dare to cover the healing skin with Band-Aid, compresses or something like that, I ended up with the 'raw' skin which looked like that of a burned victim. Therefore, they came up with the story of cutting and cauterizing.

In summary, if I got that correctly, my whole penis (beside a tiny bit of foreskin) was still there - just inside of me! My tummy did somersaults on that news.

They left my balls alone. For one it was easier to control me with them dangling there, then they still were afraid of an infection and lastly the effect on my psych seemed to be bigger and more useful.

After almost half a year living with me 24/7 in such an enclosed environment and with so much intimacy, they had grown an affection, if not even love for me, too. They weren't sure it was a sisterly love or the love between close female friends or the love of lovers, but there was a kind of love which hurt them when they were hurting me. On top, they regretted what they had done after all I had done - not to them, but FOR them - by making 'real' girls out of them.

Hence, when they left it hurt them as much as it has hurt me, but they wanted to get clear with their feelings and wanted to end my punishment with a big bang. Additionally, they wanted to give me time to come clear with the new me. Little did they know they almost destroyed me completely, but I wouldn't tell them - at least not now.

That's why, they told me what they told me when they left and most of it was true. Despite telling me they went to find Maryanne to seek revenge, they went to find her for my salvation. Yes, they bought that private island. Yes, they took all my money. Yes, the cottage, the lake and the mountains around it were theirs now. But (and this is a big BUT (still with only one 'T' though)) they converted the island and they will soon convert the cottage, too, into a retreat for people like them. With my (their?) money they founded a hotel and a small clinic on that island and had Maryanne fit out the OP room and clinic with all the required stuff to help those in need. Those could go on a holiday, enjoy the Carib and after recreation come back as the new person they had been all their lives despite their body's shortcomings to present them correctly before.

Now the helicopter was idling outside and waiting for us. I should go and pack my things, then we would fly out of here and down to the island (not all the way with the helicopter, of course) and there I would meet Maryanne again. Then it was up to me. Since I was still 'dead', I could decide whatever I like.

Maryanne could free my dick and put it back in place. Or Maryanne could work the same magic on me like she had poured over Carla and Louise. I could keep my girls or go back to my nerd's chest. I could decide to stay on the island anyway as a friend, girlfriend, male or female lover. Or I could go back to my old live or start a new life as man, woman, girl or something in between. They would share my (their/our?) money with me. Or they would even give me back most of it. They only asked for enough money to keep the island and the clinic running. All that was completely up to me.

§§§

Now I sit here, look out the window of my patient's room and wonder how life will be from tomorrow on. The white sand and the azure blue water of the Caribbean Sea seems to calm me down a lot more than the tranquilizer in my IV drain. As slowly as I drift into sleep as fast I gain a clarity which is only met by the brilliant blue sky and the crystal-clear water. Now I am sure I asked for the right...