Author's note: The first few chapters involve a kidnapping and forced transformation. There is some bondage, and a nasty dominant, but it is NOT the focus of the story. There will also be some use of French in the story. English that is italicized is just the characters speaking translated French. You'll get the hang of it! :)

Chapter 1

The boy woke from his sleep. The room was dark, and a little bit cold. He felt around the bed. He knew he was naked, and the sheet that covered him was not nearly enough to keep him warm.

“Hello? Is anyone here?” he called out. He never did the dark, and what was worse, he didn’t know who he was, or where he was. “Please! Someone! Anyone! Let me the fuck out!”

The lights to his little room clicked on. It looked a lot like a jail cell. There was a steel door, a little toilet area, a bed, a desk with a mirror, and an armoire

Blinking to adjust to the sudden light, he went over to the toilet to relieve himself. He sat down on the cold stainless steel and took care of what he needed to. As he cleaned himself, a cold, mechanical voice intoned “You will move when we tell you, you will eat when we tell you. You are now our property. Do you understand?”

“But where am I? Who am I? Why the fuck are you doing this to me? I want my Mom!” he called, nearly frantic with panic.

The mechanical voice answered. It was obviously an electronically obscured human voice, sounding like a Cylon from the old “Battlestar Galactica” series. “Where you are is unimportant. Who you are is unimportant. You are unit 532. If you need a name, it is Belle. We do this simply because we can, and any disobedience will be punished severely. If you refuse to obey, you will be killed” the voice paused. “You have no mother, no father. There is only the code”

“B-but what is the code?”

“Obey or die…that is all. You are nothing”

“Why can’t I remember my name? Belle isn’t a boy’s name?”

“You aren’t a boy. You are nothing. We will transform you to a form that is useful to us. Now…eat”

A tray with bacon and eggs with toast and some orange juice and milk was slid through a door on the floor. He was famished, and put the tray on his desk, then began devouring the meal. It was actually pretty good, all things considered. He thought about what the voice said. Was he really nothing? He had parents, didn’t he? Why did it hurt to think?

After finishing his meal, drowsiness overtook him. Darkness claimed him once again.

“Very good, Harris. This subject is a one in one hundred find. Fifteen years old, perfect bone structure, not yet into puberty. Excellent work!”

Harris laughed at the predicament the boy found himself in. “Why in the hell do you call him 532?”

Veronica clapped and laughed heartily. “It’s from when we threw him into the van. The time, silly! And if he’s thinking the way we want, he may think that he’s the five hundred and thirty second person to go through this. It’s just another way to wear him down”

“Hah! Okay, I get it. For my part, social networking has made things a lot easier since the old days. Those do gooders in Washington think they have the market cornered in net trickery. I don’t think so!” Harris laughed. “They told me I didn’t have what it took to find predators…They were right. I make so much more money as a ‘predator’, he wiggled his fingers in air quotes, than I ever would as an agent” Harris rubbed his hands together. “Stupid bastards”

Harris Duncan loved turning these innocents into empty headed bimbos. He knew why, too. Bullied as a child, he swore he would take his frustration out on the world. He hooked up with Veronica after meeting her by chance at a convention. They hit it off, and they discovered their mutual passion, and that was domination of the weak.

They had been inspired the profits to be found in the sex trade. The money had been incredible, and the crashes when the schemes were discovered were just as spectacular. Veronica felt she wouldn’t repeat the mistakes of her predecessors. She had researched the perpetrator of that scheme. She liked her, as she was a kindred spirit.

Romance had bloomed and Veronica and Harris were an immediately successful team. There were perverts in every corner of the world. It seemed money equaled perversion in some people. The more money some had, the more disgusting their tastes were. And the more they would pay to satisfy them.

Veronica Duncan had found the object, an ancient talisman, quite by accident in the home of an art collector friend of hers. He didn’t know the value of it, but thanks to her magical training, she did. It would slowly change the sex of the unfortunate soul that was exposed to its power in the correct fashion. She wasn’t able to activate it, but for a reasonable fee, her cousin, a practitioner of the dark arts, could, and indeed was more than willing to. She had a little mean streak as well, nourished by a healthy dislike of males.

Harris and Veronica specialized in transforming boys into girls for four years. The magic police and the temporal authorities had gotten much better at finding and stopping this type of crime. The Duncans had figured out how to keep one step ahead.

Transformees were in great demand in the sex trade. Since their bodies didn’t match their psyche, they were always off-balance. This made them highly susceptible to suggestion, and once broken, quite submissive and dependent on their masters. The lack of a history made them even more expendable and dependent. No identification, no history. They had nowhere to run.

One, properly changed and trained, fetched millions in the market. It didn’t really matter that their new masters or mistresses would tire of them in no more than five years. That just increased the return business.

They had sold six so far, and had amassed a fortune in the “consulting” business of over twenty million euros. The Harris’s dealt exclusively in euros. With the uncertain state of the US economy, it made more sense. Dollars were so passé now.

They found their latest project, a fifteen year old boy named Brian Kalisek, on his mother’s Facebook page, strictly based on a program that scanned the photos for persons with the proper facial features. From there, they went to his page. His photo matched the computer generated parameters, and it was a simple process to locate the child.

Through a series of well planned email contacts, they developed a relationship with the boy. He thought that the person he was talking to was a troubled, abused girl of fifteen named Ariel. They knew he would be unable to resist saving the girl.

Harris was an expert at developing rapport with boys or girls via the computer chat rooms they frequented. It almost got him a career in law enforcement, but the bitch in charge didn’t think he had what it took to be an effective, caring agent. She was right, of course, but that didn’t matter. His talents paid off in spades here.

Veronica called on the intercom. “Harris, Moira is here. Can you get it ready?”

“Sure, babe. You get the device ready” It. He loved it when she called the poor bastards “It”

Moira Mairenn O’Toole finished the spell as the unconscious form of Brian lay on the table in front of her. “That should do it, Ronnie. All of the spells are done. Remember, the changes won’t happen overnight, but neither can they be reversed”

“I understand, Moira. Great work, as usual. The payment has already been wired to your account, along with a nice bonus”

Moira smiled. “Thanks, Ronnie. You know, I could get into a lot of trouble if this was ever found out by the community. I’m breaking about ten laws by doing this”

Veronica rolled her eyes. “Like you ever worry about being caught. There’s no way anyone can tie you to what is going on. She switched to a kind of old fashioned spooky radio voice. “You appear and disappear like the mist” She began to laugh at her own joke.

Moira cautioned Veronica “It’s never that easy, Ronnie. Remember that. These schemes are always profitable for a time, but when they go south, people die. I’d hate for that to be you”

Veronica flipped her hand dismissively at Moira. “Worrywart” She hugged her cousin and bid her goodbye.

532 stirred, and then felt his way out of his cot. The lights hadn’t been on in what seemed like days. He knew his way around the cell now, and after taking care of his business, sat down at his makeup table. He was dressed in a very feminine, very frilly short nightgown with matching panties.

Everything he wore was white, and any stains were cause to be punished severely. He wanted his mom more than anything, and he cried more and more easily every day. His chest itched and his bones hurt. His insides always felt sore.

It seemed like he had been here forever. He had no idea how long he had actually been held captive. At first, he tried telling them boys didn’t wear makeup and girl clothes, but that resulted in him being strapped to the wall and being whipped until he passed out. He didn’t complain again.

Now, he was having a lot of trouble even saying anything. He could think of the words, but they wouldn’t come out. It was very frustrating. He was also having a lot of trouble keeping his emotions under control, crying a lot more than he ever did before. He didn’t know why. They were trying to kill him, he thought, which made the tears flow..

Weeks passed. The days were endless repetition with makeup, dressing, learning everything a girl should know. His body ached all the time, but they wouldn’t stop. His hips, his chest, his tummy, everything ached. Pain was a constant companion, as was the need to sleep. He slept most of the time, ate a little and performed his mind-numbing chores.

The clothes were embarrassing, but it was better than going around naked all the time. He either wore girls’ clothes or nothing at all. It was too cold to go naked. So what if he had to wear dresses. They were really kind of pretty, anyway, and he did like to wear the pretty things.

It seemed he was treated better when she obeyed. The meals were okay, but he missed her mama and daddy. He couldn’t remember their names, only her mama’s face. He held on to it like a life preserver. No matter what that voice told him, she was somebody, and someone was missing him, she just knew it. It was what kept her going.

Much later, he didn’t know how much later, her chest began to hurt less. He had boobies now. Really nice ones. They looked cute. Especially in a push up bra. The Mistress liked push up bras. She told her she looked pretty.

He hadn’t spoken in such a long time. She was alone with his thoughts.

The light came up slowly, allowing her to adjust to the brightness. “Practice with makeup” announced the mechanical voice. 532 just sighed and began to practice according to the program on her iPad. The cover was a cute pink, and she loved to read all about the newest fashions out of Paris when she was allowed to browse the internet.

After two hours of makeup practice, 532 was informed that he was to read quietly until instructed differently. The first thing she saw was a Fashion magazine. It was the French language edition of Vogue. She found an article on the new summer casual look. Halfway through the magazine, she suddenly realized he was reading and understanding French. She went through the magazine, article by article, ad by ad, and realized he understood French! She wondered if he could speak it as well.

“Bonjour! Suis-je parler français ?’

This is too weird, she thought. Maybe I can speak again. He tried to speak in English. “Bonjour?” No, that’s not right. Try again. “’allo?” It wasn’t right. She had an accent, and she really had to struggle to think of what to say. What were they doing to him?

Rage suddenly erupted through him. “Qu’as tu fait pour moi?” (What have you done to me?)Then, crying, she collapsed on his bed. The lights blinked off. Punishment was coming. She knew she had a date with the whip.

“Veronica, how are the changes coming?” asked Harris.

Veronica smiled as she reviewed the latest measurements. “Very nicely, sweetheart! This one will do very nicely. Our customer will be very pleased. The language spell kicked in today. She is distraught. It made me sooo, ahhh, very anxious, my dear”

Harris ran his arm around Veronica’s narrow waist. “Leave the girl alone for now. I have other problems you can work on…” He led her to the bedroom.

The next morning, Harris got the call from their customer. He was calling to check on the status of his “order”.

The “customer”, an Indian businessman, had ordered a human double to the fairy tale princess Belle from “Beauty and the Beast”. He was one sick bastard, and had killed eight women in his quest to create her. The pictures of the botched plastic surgeries had been tough to look at even to the hardened psychopaths that Harris and Veronica had become. They also knew that Belle would be dead in a year. He was very hard on his “princesses”.

Their version of Belle would be as close to the cartoon version as was humanly possible. The bone structure of the subject was perfect, and they were pleased that the changes were going according to plan. While the spell was slow acting, the power of the change was irreversible, and as long as the changes were happening, the victim was practically immune to long term damage. It made the whippings more effective, as the wounds would heal perfectly and without scars.

Veronica was a pure sadist at heart, and the thrills she got listening to the keening wails of Belle as she was tortured never failed to push her over the edge several times every session.

Belle sold for ten million, and the changes requested were complex. The time required would be over two years. They would use her during this time, as she would be immune to disease during the changes. They would put her to work during her changes, at gatherings of wealthy pedophiles and sadists. She would command top dollar, as she would be effectively a pre-operative transsexual, a desired commodity in the market.

After six months in captivity, Belle’s body had developed into the equivalent of a fourteen or fifteen year old girl. She was 5 feet 4 inches tall had small 34B cup breasts, a 23 inch waist and 35 inch hips. Her brown hair was down to the middle of her back. Her male organs, now useless, were still there, albeit shrinking.

There was more programming to come, and their little darling would be helpless to fight it.

She woke up this day feeling very uncomfortable. Her ankles were attached to her thighs and her arms were bound behind her back. She was on her knees in her bed, and a hood was over her head. Her mouth was taped shut. A collar attached to the ceiling kept her upright.

As she began to panic, the inside of the hood lit up. It was a virtual reality setup, and it began to play pornographic scenes. It showed women, no, not quite women, he saw, but girls like her-submitting to strange acts that disgusted her. She tried closing her eyes, but was rewarded with a terrible shock to her breasts and genitals. A muffled scream was all she could manage.

A female voice droned in her ears. “Don’t close your eyes again, Belle, or the next one will be much worse. Watch the scenes, dear, and learn what you need to do” Tears trickled down her face as she realized what was to become of her.

Veronica watched in delight as her little pet helplessly watched the acts being depicted on the screen. She could hear her muffled whimpers, thanks to the microphone in the VR hood. The scenes she was watching weren’t faked, and were actual footage of previous rape parties from her other projects. She was getting aroused thinking about the little it down in her cell squirming, trying to get away from the knowledge that she would be the one getting raped in the not too distant future.

The language spell was working to perfection. Belle’s identity was being systematically stripped from her, replaced with something of Veronica’s own creation. She was to be the perfect slave.

Harris was out recruiting some participants for Belle’s “coming out” party. Veronica’s arousal was getting intense, and watching the little girl struggle on the bed was almost more than she could bear. She pulled open the drawer on her desk and retrieved her little wand for such times as this.

Three more months had passed. Belle had undergone intense training to serve as a proper sex slave. The training was handled personally by Veronica, and it was the reason she lived for these transformations. She watched as Belle, with her beautiful, innocent face, learned to service men in every way she was physically capable of. She was so starved for human companionship that she willingly submitted to the training, just to have someone to talk to.

‘Je fais de ce droit, maá®tresse?’ Belle asked as she handled the artificial phallus. Her French programming was fully integrated, and she now found it so frustrating to speak English that she mostly spoke French unless Mistress ordered her to try English, which she did from time to time to have an excuse to punish her.

“Yes, Belle, that is correct. Very good job”

Belle smiled, proud that she pleased La Maitresse. Some of the things she was made to do were uncomfortable, especially when she had to put things in her rear end, but maitresse was so kind. It was for Belle’s own good.

‘Quand vais-je avoir á  faire cela pour un homme, maá®tresse? Bientá´t ?’ (Will I have to do this for a man soon, Mistress?) She returned to her duties orally training with the object.

“Very soon, pet. You are such a very good little girl. I am so proud of you. Answer me in English, pet”

Belle had to think. She could understand English, but to speak it, was tres difficile. “Thank y-you Maitresse, no, Mistress” she struggled to get the words out.

“Oh, Belle, your little accent is sooo darling! The men will just love you”

Belle blushed. “Merci, Maitresse”. She then held her hands in front of her mouth in embarrassment. “I am s-sorry, Mistress. Thank…you” she then curtsied as she had been taught.

Veronica never tired of that. She had stolen this wretched thing’s very life, and this thing was actually thanking her. Harris was going to break this wretch in tonight, and Veronica was going to watch. Little Belle had proven her abilities with women several times; Veronica had seen to that. Tonight, however, she would be introduced to her husband, and he was one sick bastard.

“Belle, I want you to wear your little black dress tonight. Wear your special black lingerie and black stockings. I also want you to wear your 5 inch stilettos, okay?”

“Oui, Maitresse”

Harris returned from his travels to Belle, standing very demurely, head down, hands folded in front of her, with a red bow on top of her head. She was wearing the black ensemble that Veronica had shown him earlier.

A note was attached to her left breast. It said “My name is Belle. Would you please use me tonight, Master?”

“Are you ready, Belle?”

“Oui, Maitre. I w-want…to s-serve…you t-tonight” He was pleased that the language programming had taken. She was really struggling to speak English. He could she that she was shaking like a leaf.

He took the girl into his bedroom…

The next morning, Belle was tied to the “horse”. Her hands and feet were fastened to the four legs of the horse, a padded version of a sawhorse and her body lay lengthwise on the crosspiece. She had been beaten severely on the back and rear end. Her jaws were on fire because of the ball gag inserted in her mouth. It was a little better than the large ring gag he had fitted her with to rape her orally. She thought she was going to choke to death on his penis, but he took her to the point of passing out and kept bringing her back.

Her face was streaked with old tears, blood and dried ejaculate. She had two black eyes and a broken nose. Belle had taken so much time to be beautiful for her Master. She thought, “What had I done wrong?” He had ripped her dress off and slapped her until she bled, then subjected her to the worst night of her life, raping her repeatedly with any toy that would fit inside her. Her stockings were torn, and her feet ached from wearing the heels all night.

Veronica had watched the whole display. She had pleasured herself all night, then helped her husband clean himself up, and made love to him afterwards. She came in to the room where Belle was bound and shook her head.

“Tsk tsk tsk. What happened, little girl. Did we displease Master?”

Belle tried to lift her head, but dropped in exhaustion. “mmmphhg-g-g”

“I think you need a little more motivation, pet. You must have done something. I don’t want to do this, but I can’t have you displeasing the Master or the customers” She reached for the narrow riding crop and swished it in the air for Belle to see. “Belle, this is for your own good…”

Belle squirmed and screamed into her gag. The riding crop struck her bottom with incredible force. Her pain was excruciating. The blows just kept coming. Without pity or remorse, they rained down.

After fifty strokes on her bottom, back, legs and arms, blood was leaking out of nearly every stripe. She had passed out around the fortieth blow. Due to the regenerative properties of the transformation spell, she was already beginning to heal. Still, this session had nearly killed Belle.

Veronica had two orgasms beating the girl. It was magnificent. Harris had untied the unconscious girl and they had taken her back to her cell. Thanks to her programming, she would assume she caused the beating and rapes, and would try harder to satisfy her tormenters.

Chapter 2

Belle woke the next day. She was still in incredible pain from the soft tissue injuries. Her muscles were on fire, and the burns on her wrists and ankles from her struggles against the bonds were very painful. Using the wall to support herself, she slowly made her way to the shower. The remains of her lingerie were easy to strip off. She turned the water on and staggered in. She screamed as the hot water set her damaged nerve endings on fire. Slowly, Belle adjusted to the water. She slid down the wall of the shower and cried.

“Mama, Papa” she thought. “Please give me your strength. I need it now more than ever. I will see you again. I just have to go with the flow. I mustn’t fight it. They want me to fight it. Don’t fight it…”

Three weeks after her session with the whip. Belle was completely healed and had not one scar to show for her ordeal. She was ready for the first of the private parties that Harris Duncan had arranged. This little party would net the Duncans nearly seven hundred fifty thousand dollars. Every pedophile and pervert in the area paid for the privilege of abusing Belle.

Belle got dressed in a gold evening gown, her hair put up in a bun, with little tendrils of hair framing her face. She was the picture of the Princess she was supposed to be. Her body was even more feminine, a result indirectly of the beatings she took. The more she was abused, the faster the transformation would take place, as the healing process worked. Her breasts were now a full B, and were growing into a C cup.

Veronica opened the door to Belle’s cell and Belle immediately stood to attention.

“Sit down, pet. I need to put some drops in your eyes. We are going out tonight”

Belle said nothing, as Maitresse had not given her permission to speak. The drops went into her eyes, and Belle’s vision dissolved into a murky white. Her beautiful brown eyes hazed over to white. She was blind. The drops were a gift from Moira. They were a potion specially crafted for this effect.

Panic spread into Belle’s features. In French, she whispered, “I’m blind”

Veronica held Belle’s hand. “It’s okay, pet. The effect is only temporary. I can’t have you getting in to trouble, and blindfolds are so restrictive, so, I use this medicine. You’ll be back to normal tomorrow”

Tears trickled down Belle’s cheeks. They had stolen her sight! In the back of her mind, she could still see mama. She was telling Belle it was going to be okay.

“No crying, pet. I want your face perfect for tonight. A lot of clients are expecting to see a beautiful young girl. You are going to make a lot of men happy tonight. Some ladies will be there too. They will love your little outfit. Now, let’s get you ready”

Veronica bound Belle’s arms in a white leather armbinder. A white ball gag was placed in her mouth, and a hobble chain was attached to the cuffs on her ankles. A collar was placed on her neck and a gold chain was attached. She was led away, struggling to maintain balance on the five inch spike heels.

The party guests were a cesspool of the worst sexual perverts assembled in one room. Belle was led in, blind and dressed only in her lingerie. Her bonds were removed earlier. The room went silent, and the bidding for the first one to use her was started.

She was subjected to cruel games, taking advantage of her sightlessness. She was terrified, and the more she was stressed, the less English she spoke, so by the end, no one could understand her. Veronica openly used her vibrator on herself during the “games”, as she was sitting on a makeshift throne above all of the action watching it all. Harris kept the violence to minimum, so as to avoid irreparable harm

By the time the evening was over, Belle had been raped thirty six times, and had been beaten nearly comatose. She had been given a date rape drug during the evening, so mercifully she wouldn’t remember most of the night.

One patron of the evening’s festivities was disgusted almost to the point of physical illness. The Duncans knew him as Drake Franklin, CEO of a telecom corporation in Dallas, but in reality he was a private investigator and undercover specialist named Kevin Howard. He had gotten word of the “party” from a confidential informant who had been instructed to look for these types of events. In return, Kevin would “look the other way” in certain other circumstances. This little arrangement had paid off big this time.

Kevin had seen the two Duncans bring in the blind, helpless girl. His heart nearly broke as the crowd descended on her like a school of piranha. How she survived the evening was nothing short of a miracle. In the confusion, he had managed to slip away unnoticed.

Kevin got on the phone to his employer, Pluton Security, specifically an entity named Cerberus. He specialized in dealing with sex rings and forced prostitution. Cerberus dealt with them in ways that the law enforcement community would not approve of. Simply put, when Cerberus got his hooks in, the undertaker was the next and only way out. This was clearly a job for him.

A male voice answered Kevin’s call. “Styx Club”

“I have two coins for the Ferryman” It was the code for a potential operation.

“Okay. Cerberus will be in touch. Stand by; the call will be at 1350 hours”

“Got it. Make sure he knows Persephone needs her dad”, code for a victim in danger.

Cerberus. His real identity was a closely guarded secret. Rumor had it that he lost his daughter to a sex slaver, and had never found her. He later found out that she had committed suicide. The story went that the people responsible for her kidnapping were found after a thorough investigation. They did not survive.

Cerberus was never seen without his mask. It was a simple mask, like a modified hockey goalie mask, with two mirrored lenses for the eyes and no other holes. It was also pure black. He wore a leather tactical suit to make combat easier, and to keep his weapons. A deadly hand to hand combatant, he was also a master of several types of weapons. It was rumored that he was a former Navy SEAL or Green Beret, but no one knew for certain.

Kevin’s phone rang at precisely 1350 hours. The gravelly voice on the other end spoke. “Okay, Kevin, what do you have for me?”

“Well boss, I got a tip about a possible sex party in the Highland Park area of Dallas. I was able to get access. What I saw made me sick me. Our friends the Duncans brought a girl, make that a t-girl, to the party. She was blind, not more than sixteen years old. Boss, they nearly killed her”

“Girl, no more than sixteen, you say?”

“That’s my guess, Boss. I’m thinking she was foreign, but I don’t know. I could tell she was trying to speak English at first, but as she got more panicked, she broke into French”

“French?”

“Yeah, I speak it. Grew up in Quebec, but I guess you know that already. She was begging for her life, Boss. It was all I could do to leave her. They tortured her. Out and out torture. I couldn’t do anything”

“I know, Kev. You did what you could. I happen to know what rock those two maggots are living under now. I have an idea what is going on, but I have to admit, the French thing has me a bit stumped. Good work, Kev. I’ll take it from here”

“Get them boss. This was the worst thing I’ve ever seen”

“I will”

Cerberus scratched his chin. French. The timeline was right for the Kalisek disappearance. It fit their MO. He had just found where they were only recently, unfortunately not soon enough for the others they had taken. They had been associated with another bunch that got into this sort of thing. But the French thing? The boy didn’t speak French. He thought, and then it came to him. There was a case a few years back. Language programming. They had figured a way to program a new language on top of the native language. The victims never quite shook the programming.

If they could do this, they have moved up the ladder. He thought. He should have just ended them when he had the chance last year. But no. He didn’t kill anyone without absolute proof. The girl, that complicated things a little. If it was the Kalisek boy, then damn. He would be one messed up kid. There are places for him or her to get some help, but she’d have to consent.

Veronica and Harris were showering after a particularly strenuous bout of sex. She was so turned on by the poor blind girl trying to protect herself, that she practically attacked her husband after she was put away. Belle would be out of commission for a week or more after her adventure last night, so Veronica would have to look at the tapes of the evening to restart her engine, and she would do so several times before the next gathering.

“You are turning into one crazy bitch, you know that?” said Harris.

Veronica smiled and tweaked his nose. “I didn’t hear any complaints last night, lover”

He smiled predatorily “You’re crazy, but you’re mine all the way”

They giggled and proceeded make love yet again in the shower. She was amazed by Harris’ ability to recover after sex.

Cerberus put out every feeler he had in the area. Nothing was scheduled for now, but he would be on alert until there was. The Duncans were too greedy to pass up another opportunity to exploit their “guest”, and Cerberus was a patient man. He could wait.

One month had elapsed since the party. Veronica had trained Belle the fine art of walking in ballet boots. The pole dancing training had been going on for nearly six months, and Belle was turning into a world class pole dancer. Her face was nearly done, and her body was almost done. The female organs hadn’t formed yet, but her ‘strenuous’ workouts had really accelerated the process. Her little male organ was basically just a large clitoris now, and she had allowed Belle to experience her first orgasm as a nearly complete woman.

Belle was programmed to be very vocal in her lovemaking, and Veronica smiled as Belle screamed during her orgasm. She kept crying “Oui! Oui! Mon Dieu! Oui!”, and a bunch of other French nonsense. It didn’t matter. She would be the perfect toy for Narang.

Veronica had allowed Belle to service her. Belle was getting very good at knowing where to touch her. She took care of her mistress in a very short time. Veronica simply patted her head as if she was a dog, and left her as if she were nothing.

To Be Continued