How Did This Happen


How Did This Happen

I sat looking into the vanity's mirrors. Reflected back was the face of
a pretty but not beautiful girl. Long strawberry blond hair piled up in
curls held in place by a white feathered band. Pillow soft strawberry
colored lips. The nose a bit too big but not that detracting, arched
brows, smoky eyelids and large golden hoop pierced earlobes stared back
at me.

What the mirrors didn't show was my attire. I was wearing a white
crystal beaded square necked leotard with spaghetti straps with powder
pink tights. Around the waist flared a stiff pink and lavender tutu and
white satin en pointe ballerina slippers on my feet. On each wrist was a
wide white feathered band. Under the leotard I had on a very tight white
panty girdle with a satin diamond panel embroidered with silver thread in
a delicate floral pattern and white push up gel filled C-cup strapless
bra. It was a costume appropriate for my ballet recital. What really
made it a costume though was the fact that the person wearing it was me.
I'm all boy, at least that's what I was before Stephanie came into my
life.

Stephanie was my step aunt. My father married my step mother when I was
f******n and Stephanie was her older s****r. I had just turned sixteen
when they were killed in a horrific traffic accident. Stephanie was the
nearest living relative and as such took control of my f****y's estate
and me. Unlike my loving step mother she was cold and demanding. She
never married preferring the company of other women. She was pretty but
inside her heart was ugly and cruel.

From the moment she took control my life, as I knew it, was over. First
she fired the maid, Millie, and cook, Dana. Our chauffeur had died with
my parents. Millie and Dana had been more like f****y than servant but
despite my pleas were let go. In their place she hired a very pretty but
obnoxious maid, Delilah and Bertha. Delilah was of Italian descent with
blue-black raven hair and smooth olive complexion. Her hearth shaped
face was always immaculately made up and wore stylish clothing when not
in uniform. Bertha, the new cook, can best be described as a woman right
out of Wager's operas, big, blond and very German. Her round double
chinned face never had makeup and when not in her uniform wore man styled
slacks and shirts.

She pulled me out of school and hired a nanny to home school me. Her
name was Madam Simms. In my mind she wasn't a woman but the devil
incarnate. She was a very sever looking woman. She was six foot tall in
three inch block heels, more big boned than fat and despite her size very
quick on her feet. Her salt and pepper hair was always styled in a tight
bun on the back of her head. She wore little makeup usually just a slash
of red across her narrow lips and dressed mostly in black ankle length
dresses. It was into her hands that Stephanie thrust me two weeks after
she took over.

During those first weeks, Stephanie had workers come in and do some
remodeling. I call it a house but it was really a mansion with ten
bedrooms set on a large isolated lot. Besides the house and garage there
is a large swimming pool and cabana. Workers came once a week to tend
the pool and grounds. It was a great house but being so isolated none of
my friends lived nearby but I had just gotten my driver's license so that
wouldn't be a problem much longer.

To answer the question of how did this happen, I need to start telling my
tale from when Stephanie took control and pulled me from school. Like I
said Delilah was hot but it took me about two seconds to realize she
didn't like me. I tried to act cool when I was around her but she turned
up her pert nose and ignored me.

Stephanie was in the process of making her changes when she called me
into her office. Up until then I did my best to avoid her. It had been
my dad's but only the furniture remained. All his personal items and
masculine nick knacks were gone. She had even replaced the original
America's Cup oil painting by James Buttersworth. In its place was some
old classical styled oil of two half naked women embracing.

"Dale I have decided to remove you from school as of this Friday and
hired someone to teach you here at the house. Her name is Madam Simms
and you will do your studies under her guidance. She will be moving in
next week and you will meet her then. She has my orders to see to your
day to day affairs. You are dismissed," was her terse statement as I
stood before her desk.

"Stephanie I don't want to quit school. All my friends are there and I
like the courses. You can't do this to me," I answered angrily.

"Dale I'm in charge of this household and you. I am the adult and you
are the c***d. You will call me Ms. McAdams and not by my first name.
As far as school, I can and I have. Now leave." She didn't scream but
said it in the cold tone of authority.

On my last day at school during PE I played a couple of sets of tennis.
I was pissed that Stephanie pulled me out of classes and took it out on
my opponent. We played hard and both of us were sweat soaked by the end.
Since it was my last class and my last day I didn't bother to shower.
Upon entering the kitchen I saw Stephanie and Delilah.

Delilah took one look at me and sniffing the air said to Stephanie,
"Puppy dog, he smells like a wet dog. Shall I take care of it Madam?"

To my surprise she grabbed me by my earlobe and began pulling me up
stairs. I should tell you that I'm not that big or strong. I'm short
and thin for my age with shoulder length brown hair and blue eyes. I
looked more like a f******n year old and that's probably why I copped an
attitude at school. My parents got more letters from my headmaster than
most of my buddies regarding my misdeeds.

Delilah was a head taller and surprisingly strong. I protested the
treatment but that only made her pinch my earlobe all the harder. Man
that really hurt. She pulled me straight into my in-suite bathroom and
started filling the tub. I just stood there like a lamp post rubbing my
throbbing ear. Like I said, I did smell and my shirt was deeply stained
with sweat so I wasn't upset about getting cleaned up only taking a bath
bothered me. I couldn't remember the last time I had taken a bath. In
my mind only babies and girls took baths.

I was standing there rubbing my sore ear when she told me to strip.
"What the fuck?" I thought hearing that. She obviously didn't mean for
me to get naked with her still there. How wrong that thought was as she
came over and began pulling my shirt over my head. Free of the shirt I
tried to move back but she grabbed the waist band of my shorts and pulled
me in.

I opened my mouth to tell her to fuck off when she did something that I
had never experienced before. She slapped my face hard bringing instant
tears. The side of my face was flaming and my mind frozen in shock. I
had been in fights at school but usually I was the instigator and
expected to be hit back. I'd never been slapped before so this shocked
and caught me off guard. If it had been some guy I would have lashed
back but this was a girl, no a woman. As I stood trying to get control
over my tears, she undid my tennis shorts and in one motion pulled my
shorts and boxers to my ankles. Immediately my hands plunged down to
cover my parts. Her smile was more of a smirk as I did that and she took
my clothing from around my feet. The next two hours, yes, I said two
hours, were the most embarrassing I had ever experienced. Leaving me
standing naked she left but returned shortly with one of those small hard
shelled pink carrying cases. From the case she removed a number of
bottles and a pair of latex gloves.

As I watched her wide eyed, she looked at me holding up a wooden
hairbrush and said, "By the time I'm through cleaning you up, you will
smell nice and sweet. Give me any trouble and I will punish you."

From the tone of her voice, the look in her eyes and from the way she
already manhandled me the only thing I could do was nod my head. Putting
a white plastic bibbed apron and the gloves on, she grabbed a large pink
jar and began rubbing the contents all over my body. She applied a thick
coating everywhere except my upper face and head. She had covered my
hair in a pink plastic shower cap. In no time it began to burn and stink
making me hop from one foot to the other asking her for relief. All she
did was smirk and tell me to stop complaining. After what seemed like an
hour she shoved me into the shower and turned on the cold water. Believe
me when I say that cold spray felt wonderful at first but quickly became
very uncomfortable shrinking my male parts and turning my lips blue. It
wasn't until she told me to shut the water off and get out that I noticed
all my body hair was gone. I was a naked as a new born baby and if I
wasn't so cold would have blushed.

From the shower I was ushered into the bath which now was a mass of
multi-colored bubbles and the aroma of flowers overwhelming. She
actually bathed me like I was a helpless baby. When she had me stand and
began cleaning my genitals I thought I was going to die from
embarrassment. Normally I could get a hard on instantaneously just
looking at a pretty girl but this time I was too mortified. It didn't
help my pride or ability to get erect when she wondered why I was making
a big fuss with such a baby dick and balls. I almost jumped out of the
bathtub when she stuck the washcloth into my asshole. By the time the
bath was finished I was totally mortified and my male ego severely
bruised.

My experiences in the bathroom didn't end with the bath. After patting
me dry she covered my body in a very fragrant body lotion and with a
large powder puff dusted me with an equally aromatic talc. With my body
dusted I was pushed over the sink where she shampooed and conditioned my
hair. Not once but three times. With my hair still quite damp, she had
me sit on the edge of the tub with my feet in it and wrapped the towel
around my shoulders. She parted it down the middle and across the
forehead then began trimming it. When she had finished my hair was in a
shoulder length bob with feathered bangs. Using a round bristle brush
and blow dryer she gave it a big poofed out look with the ends turned
under. Using a lot of hairspray it was set in a very stiff, shiny do and
the smell of varnish heavy in the air. Way too feminine for any real
boy. Finished with my hair she tucked a bath towel around my chest and
told me to go get dressed and not mess with my hair. When I saw what she
had done to it in my dresser mirror, I wanted to rush back into the
bathroom and stick my head under the shower. She was still there so all
I could do was get dressed, so much for my first up close and personal
encounter with Delilah.

I actually didn't meet Bertha for several weeks after she was brought on
board but I immediately became familiar with her cooking. I'm on the
skinny side but all I got to eat was vegan and a bunch of heath
supplements to swallow down with the bitter tea I was served. By the
time Bertha changed my diet to the complete opposite but with very little
red meat, I looked anorexic. With the lack of real protein and being
banned from the basement workout room, my muscle loss was apparent.

I just wish I could avoid Delilah like I could Stephanie. Looking back
on it I guess it was Stephanie doing the avoiding. Anyway Delilah made
it her business to give me my morning and evening toilet. She made sure
I took a bath using lots of bath beads and fragrant floral oils twice a
day. I was spared some embarrassment as she let me wash myself but she
applied that foul smelling lotion that burned once every day. I later
learned that it was a strong depilatory that in time made my body hair
loss permanent. My hair was shampooed and conditioned every third day.
She made me brush it out into that big hair look that I hated. At night
she would make me roll the ends in large bristle rollers. I used smaller
ones to roll my bangs.

That first night was probably the worse as I stared into my dresser
mirror. My reflection wasn't all me. It was like a girl me if you know
what I mean. I had on a blue night mask that covered my face except for
the eyes and lips, large pink rollers decorated my neck, smaller ones
went across my forehead and a neon blue hair net held it all in place. I
also had white gloves on. Under those was a pair of plastic ones to keep
the lotion covering my hands from seeping through. Apparently Delilah
didn't approve of the calluses and rough skin. I lost some more of my
masculinity that night.

Other than Delilah's daily visits and meal time I was left to myself
during that weekend. I wanted to go out and play ball or just hang with
my friends but with that big sissy hair didn't dare. I tried hiding it
under a ball cap but that failed miserably. I thought briefly about just
sticking my head under the shower but had been told in no uncertain terms
what would happen if I messed it up. As a result I stayed at the house
mostly in my room looking at porn or chatting with my friends. Of course
they wanted to know why I was pulled from classes. All I could say was
that she made me and I had no choice. I didn't have a car yet. My
parents were going to give me one when I turned eighteen in a few more
months so I was completely isolated. Like Stephanie would drive me to
see my friends anyway.

Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you that I did put up a fight if you could call
it that. That very first night after she had given me my first bath
Delilah came into my room without knocking I might add. When she said it
was time for my bath, I refused. I was standing, just having put down my
lap top, when she entered. She couldn't surprise me with that ear grab
plus I could block a slap now that I knew her tactics and she was a girl
after all. I didn't know she knew martial arts. She quickly had me in
tears and very compliant. Being defeated by a mere girl only slightly
bigger than you is not conducive to boosting one's ego.

Stephanie's aloofness and Delilah's treatment were nothing compared to
Madam Simms. She scared the hell out of me the first time we met. Like
I said she was a big severe looking woman and as she examined me I felt
like a bug under a microscope. I had been called into Stephanie's office
to meet her the day she arrived. I wasn't all that confident with that
big hair style and when I looked into her eyes shriveled up inside.

As soon as her eyes fell on me she snapped, "Stand up straight with your
arms at your sides, feet together and chest out. Now pull your left leg
back a bit, take your thumb and forefinger to grasp the sides of your
slacks then bend your right knee keeping your back straight and chin
tilted down."

I was so intimidated by her that I did what she said without any real
thought. I know I must have looked like an idiot as I awkwardly
complied. All she said was "Dismal but that will be remedied. Now stand
there and be quite," turning her attention back to Stephanie. They
talked for a few minutes as if I weren't even in the room before they
turned their attention back to me.

"This is Madam Simms and your new nanny. I have given her complete
authority to do anything she deems appropriate. I have given her
permission to punish misbehavior anyway she desires to correct that
behavior. Understood?" Stephanie stated.

I could only nod my head in response. I was too frightened hearing the
words "nanny" and "punish." I didn't understand the part about her being
my nanny as I was much too old for a nanny but I did understand the
punish part. Looking at Madam Simms I guessed that the tortures of the
Spanish Inquisition would have been a preferable alternative. Over time
I learned that alternative was indeed preferable.

"I'm glad you understand your position in this household Dale. Madam
Simms, I guess you need to unpack before you begin his instruction?"

"No I think it best if I e****t Dale to his room now. I see that I have
much work to do. Give your aunt a curtsey c***d," she replied putting
her big hand on my neck giving me a downward shove.

Leaving the office she surprised me yet again by telling me to walk ahead
of her. Have you any idea how disconcerting it is to have someone
walking right behind you muttering over and over, "Oh that will never
do?" It gave me the creeps and this woman was scary enough as it was.
Arriving at my room I found the door both closed and locked. I never
locked my door. My confusion was answered as she grabbed me by the back
to the neck and steered me further down the corridor to the second room
from the end. It was one of the rooms Stephanie had remodeled of the
three at this end of the corridor. Madam Simms removed a key and opened
the door pushing me through as the door swung wide.

I stood stunned as I looked about the room. It was a girls room and not
only that but a very little girls room. The walls were painted powder
pink covered with cartoon decals of Disney princesses and cute a****ls.
A very thick lavender rug covered the floor. In one corner was a large
Victorian white and blue painted doll house with several dolls placed
nearby and a hope chest. Not far from the doll house was a pink rocking
horse and next to it was a white with pink rose bush imprinted play pen
with a pink pad filled with stuffed a****ls and foam blocks. On the
other side of the room was a twin sized bed but it was a white enameled
with pink rose bush design crib. It had thin metal rails and a mesh
steel top that locked in place to keep me from getting out. Over the
crib whirled a mobile with multi-colored butterflies.

Across from the bed's footboard was a pink padded changing table with
eight drawers. Next to the bed was a night stand and princess lamp. A
small table with straight back chair had a pink lap top computer and CD
player sitting on it. The large walk-in closet seemed to be bulging with
little girl dresses. A large dresser and small vanity again with that
same rose bush design completed the furnishings. There were no windows
as this was an inside room and it reeked of flowers. My eyes still
traveling around that horrible room I took a step back then another
before I felt two large hands tightly grip my shoulders. As she turned
me to face her, I saw her sneering smile.

"There's no time like the present to begin your instruction. Yes, this
is your new room. From now on until you can prove to me that you are
both willing and compliant to my wishes it will be all you know. As you
may have guessed from the furnishings and decoration the person that
lives in this room is a very little girl. You are now that little girl
and will answer to the name of Darla Jean. The sooner you learn that you
are Darla Jean and behave like a little girl you can move out of here and
into a much older girl's room. If you don't do everything I say and do
it happily you may be stuck here for a very long time. How long you stay
as a diapered little girl is strictly up to you. Understand Darla Jean?
Now let's get you dressed appropriately," she said pulling my shirt over
my head as she pushed me toward the changing table.

"Diapers! Little girl! Darla Jean! Stuck in this icky room! No, this
is too outrageous and I'm not going to stand for this. I'm a grown man,"
my mind screamed.

Even with my arms entangled in the shirt my head still covered, I began
to resist as much as I possibly could. I was picked up by very strong
arms and laid across the changing table. With one hand pressing down on
my back I heard a draw open and then only pain. She paddled my poor
bottom for what seemed like hours before she let me fall to the carpeted
floor. I lay curled up on the floor crying as she moved about the room.
When my tears became sniffles she pulled me to my feet and quickly
removed my slacks, boxers and the shirt off my arms. She effortlessly
lifted me onto the changing table and fastened a restraining belt over my
chest pinning my arms in the process.

"That should keep you under control as I prepare you for your first
diapering. Before I do that we have to do something about that little
deformity between your legs," she stated.

What she did next destroyed what manhood I had left. It was a male
chastity device that kept my penis very shrunken and pointing down. My
poor balls were stuffed back up inside the body cavity they descended
from which caused new tears and a nauseous feeling. Putting everything
to shame used during the Inquisition this device had adjustable sharp
pointed teeth built in.

She would replace those barbs with new longer and sharper ones as time
passed. If the tiniest erection tried to form, it proved most painful
and occasionally brought little pricks of bl**d. I could pee with it on
but would have to sit to do so. I can't tell you how many times I tried
to get that damn thing off but every attempt resulted in painful failure.
Without the key the only way to remove it was to cut my penis off which
wasn't an option as far as I was concerned. Over time and much pain all
I had left showing between my legs was a small none functioning penis and
empty shriveled sack.

Compared to the chastity device being diapered was a walk in the park.
She used thick pink cloth diapers with a soaker to diaper me and covered
them in a translucent lavender plastic diaper cover with six rows of
white floral ruffled lace on the bottom. Next she pulled dainty white
nylon socks on my feet with bright yellow ruffles. Diapered she helped
me stand. The thick bulk of the diaper between my legs f***ed me to
stand uncomfortably with my thighs spread. It f***ed me to walk with
what I can only describe as a waddle. As I stood, she put a bright
canary yellow with white lace trimmed training bra on me.

"Yo....you...do..don't want m...me to...actually use these?" I stuttered fearing
the worse placing my hand on the front of my diapers.

"Actually I do except if you have to do a number two you will tell me and
I will let you use the potty provided you have behaved," she curtly
responded. It wasn't the answer I wanted to hear but like I had any
choice and it could have been much worse.

She took my hand and led me to the closet where she removed a canary
yellow satin little girl's party dress. I spotted a toddler's pink potty
chair sitting in the corner. The dress had large puffed short sleeves
with heavily laced cuffs in white tying off with yellow satin ribbon
bows. It was square necked with a short waist and box pleated full skirt
supported by three stiff built in net petticoats. The short bodice had
four rows of white satin bows running down the front in a "V" pattern.
The hem of the flaring skirt didn't cover but half of my butt exposing a
lot of my diapered ass.

I was surprised that the girlie clothing actually fit. Not too tight or
too loose. The only discomfort beside it being on me was that caused by
the net petticoats. They made my upper legs itch like crazy. Later I
learned that Stephanie had the clothing made to my measurements. That
fact also told me that Stephanie had my girlhood planed from very early
on and wasn't a spur of the moment decision.

Dressed I was then taken over to the vanity where she fashioned my long
hair into pleated pig tails tying them off with yellow satin ribbons with
long streamers. With the hair styled, she coated my lashes with black
lengthening mascara and my lips in a pearl pink. The lipstick made my
lips tingle. I had never worn or paid attention to lipstick ads but from
kissing my girlfriends never felt my lips tingle. Much later I learned
she was using a lipstick with a chemical additive that would swell my
lips. Again, over time, my lips became permanent soft pillows. She
finished me off with a heady floral perfume. All I could do was watch my
reflection in the vanity mirror as she turned me from boy to girl.

Diapered, dressed and made up she took me to the doll house. "I have
unpacking to do so I want you to sit here and play with your dollies.
You can find different outfits and accessories for them in the hope
chest. While I'm gone I expect you to play enthusiastically just like a
real little girl. This room is wired for both sound and pictures so I'll
know if you don't," she said as she put a disc into the CD player.

When she left the room I scanned the room more closely. Sure enough,
they were small but I counted six cameras. Defeated, I picked up one of
the dolls. I just held it as I had no idea of what to do next. I was a
guy and never played with dolls, girl dolls anyway. When I was a lot
younger I played with action figures. Now that I thought about it
"action figure" was just a ruse cause they were really dolls.
Remembering she said something about different outfits, I decided to
change the dolls clothing. As I played with the stupid doll I felt like
a fool. This was so unmanly but I went through the motions. Oh yeah,
the music I had to listen to was very irritating. It was nothing but
nursery rhymes set to music, so infantile and sung in a high pitched
little girl voice.

I eventually got tired of changing the dolls clothing and opened the doll
house to see the inside. It was divided into various rooms just like
you'd find in a regular house's floor plan along with the miniature
furniture. I figured out that "playing house" was nothing more than a
little girl imitating grown up life.

"You want me to become a little girl? I don't have the faintest idea
about being a fuckin' little girl!" I screamed in frustration and anger
forgetting about the microphones.

Madam Simms came back and said, "So you don't know anything about being a
'fuckin' little girl' do you? For that you earned a good mouth washing
for cussing and instruction on how to be a good little girl. Oh, and for
yelling, your diapers will not be changed until tomorrow morning."

If you have ever tasted and swallowed soap you know the icky nauseous
cramping it can cause. The suds even get into your nose and it takes
like forever to stop smelling it. This was my first experience and a
very demeaning one at that. It was something I didn't want repeated but
over time I tasted more soap than I ever wanted. When my diapers were
finally changed, it was both a great relief and mortifying. They were
very wet and extremely stinky. Actually when you first pee in them the
warm wetness felt nice but when it cooled became unpleasant quickly. Add
in a stinky slimy pile of crap which spreads all over down there and you
have a very miserable time. She made sure I did both pee and p*o-p*o. I
was given many bottles of baby formula laced with both laxative and
diuretic to drink out of large baby bottles. The rubber nipples on the
bottles were three inches long, one inch in diameter and shaped like
dicks. It took a hard paddling before I could put that into my mouth and
suck on it. The taste of the formula made me want to gag but my burning
bottom kept me sucking.

With my mouth thoroughly washed out, she sat me at the small table and
powered up the computer. I spent the next two hours playing various
games designed for little princesses and another hour on a site that was
an electronic version of paper dolls. Having to do that was almost as
bad as the mouth washing.

I don't know how long I was isolated in that room. There were no windows
or clocks to tell the time or day. Madam Simms made sure I had no idea
or capability to figure it out either. She varied the times I was put to
bed. Sometimes I would be fully awake and into the crib. At other times
I would be dead tired and still not in my crib. For awhile I tried to
keep track by scratching a notch on the closet door but gave that up as
pointless.

My awake time was spent playing with my dollies or in the play pen with
my stuffed a****ls. When not doing that I was at the computer playing
those little girl games or memorizing little girl etiquette from a book
published in 1948. The CD kept playing that little girl singing nursery
rhymes over and over until bed time. It got to the point where I heard
that shrill little girl voice singing in my head in my sl**p.

I was always dressed in satin party dresses in various pastel colors with
lots of stiff net crinolines. Delilah would come into my room in the
mornings and bed time to make sure I followed my toilet. My food was a
mush of adult food put into a blender and my liquids mostly baby formula.
Of course I had my handful of vitamins to take each morning and bed time.

During my play time I didn't see much of Madam Simms. She didn't need to
be there because of all the monitors but I spent time with her every day.
It was my class time in which I learned to write in girlish script, speak
in a little girlish voice, move and behave like a girl per the etiquette
book. Again I tried to resist but having a wet and messy diaper for two
days without a change or spanking put a stop to that.

The only time my chastity device came off was for cleaning when I had a
messy diaper. I was never given the opportunity to play with it.
Something I longed to do. I barely remembered the last time I got to
touch it and have the relief I so desperately needed. Despite wanting
relief and totally sexually frustrated the sharp barbs in the device
ensured that I wouldn't get hard. The pain had me doubled over many
times but not so often now. I had vowed to endeavor to persevere and
keep my identity safe and sane but this little girl treatment was
breaking my will power.

By the time I was allowed out of that torture chamber I was singing along
with that little girl in a similar voice without even knowing that I was
doing so. I dropped a curtsey every time someone entered or left the
room, asked me a question or told me to do something without thought. I
hated being treated like a toddler especially the diapers so I did what I
had to in order to get out. I worked hard to become what they wanted so
I could get out of there.

One day Madam Simms entered my room and said what I longed to hear.
"Darla Jean you have shown some progress and I've decided to let you grow
up. Just remember this room is still yours and you can move back into it
as quickly as you have moved out. Now come along Delilah is waiting to
give you your morning toilet."

"Yes Madam Simms, thank you so much. I promise to behave," I replied
happily while dipping into a cute curtsey.

Ooo

I was hoping now that she had decided to let me grow up I wouldn't have
to perform those humiliating curtseys. I didn't realize just how
habitual that task had become and found myself curtseying like I had been
taught. After she told me I didn't have to curtsey all the time only
when first greeting her in the morning, it took time before I actually
could.

My biggest hope was that she would stop all this silliness and let me go
back to being a man. That hope immediately died when I saw my new room.
Yeah, you guessed it. Another ultra-feminine girl's room decorated to
please the heart of any teenaged girl. It was bigger than the one I left
but just as distasteful to me. The walls were painted in lavender with
pink vertical pen stripes and the floor covered in a plush beige carpet.
At least this room had a window so I could look out on the world
something I hadn't done in ages. It was treated with pinkish orange
satin curtains and bone colored blinds. All the furniture was French
Provencal, white enameled with gold piping. A queen sized bed with pink
chiffon canopy that d****d in billowing folds down the spindle posters
and tied off in large pink satin bows dominated the room. There was an
eight drawer dresser, side tables, vanity with lavender satin box pleated
skirting and matching bench seat and a small table with straight backed
chair completed the furnishings. The room had an attached full bath and
very large walk-in mirrored closet.

The bed had a bright white pillowed satin comforter with small pink rose
buds, two large pillows that matched the comforter, a large red satin
heart pillow with white lace trim was placed between the two larger ones,
white linens with a small floral print and pink satin skirting. The
bedside table held a white porcelain doll lamp and alarm clock. The lamp
shade was a miniature frilled parasol in pinks and lavenders. On top of
the dresser were two large dolls dressed in fancy costume representing
s*******nth century French ladies. On the wall facing the bed was a
large poster depicting Justin Bieber who I detested. On the wall beside
the bed was another large picture of a prima ballerina en pointe as the
swan in Swan Lake. There were two other posters on each side of the
window. One was some boy band I never heard of and the other featured
the pirate character "Jack Sparrow". Beside the feminine décor there was
a prevailing aroma of flowers filling the room. I didn't like it but it
beat the heck out of smelling baby power and stinky diapers.

Unlike the nursery this room had its own bathroom. The bathroom was
decorated with pink and white tiles, had a large footed tub, commode,
linen closet and white marble counter top with sink. A mirror ran the
entire length of the counter top and very well lit. It was great to have
a bathroom to use again but it had its drawbacks. The commode was
covered in a pink fuzzy tank top and seat cover which matched the small
rug around the base. I had always hated such decoration as when I stood
to pee the thickness of the seat cover wouldn't keep the seat up. Oh
well, that didn't matter now because I always sat to pee. It also didn't
have a shower which I dearly missed.

Again I was told that this would be my room until I displayed the
appropriate behavior of a young girl. Like I said I wasn't happy but it
beat being in the nursery and out of diapers. Actually I should tell the
truth. I was more than happy to be out of the nursery. I was ecstatic.

Instead of diapers I now wore cotton panties usually with floral prints,
training bras which were white cotton with a pink ribbon decoration. My
wardrobe was mostly dresses, skirts and blouses suitable for a young girl
of ten or eleven. I also had a few pair of girly shorts and tees. I
didn't mind the upgraded clothing choices so much but seeing the leotards
and tutus did. Another new addition that I wasn't overly pleased to see
was all the different cosmetics on the vanity and in the linen closet. I
soon learned that the cosmetics on the vanity weren't real in that they
were "play" lipsticks and powders that could be easily removed from any
surface. However, all the different nail varnishes were the real thing.
The linen closet contained container after container of bath beads, bath
oils, moisturizers and body lotions.

There were a few things brought in from the nursery, the pink computer,
CD player and my "favorite" dolly. Instead of nursery rhymes I had to
listen to boy bands, Hanna Montana and the like all day. They were
almost as nauseating as that little girl's voice singing in the nursery.
Like before, it wasn't long before I was unthinkingly singing along with
the CD's. My computer was now used to watch various teen idol, fashion
and social media suitable for a young girl. I was also given several
magazines and books catering to young girls.

Delilah came in every morning and evening to instruct and observe my
morning and evening toilet. She also instructed me in the proper use of
all those lotions and creams I was now expected to use daily. She spent
time teaching me how to braid my hair and use things like barrettes,
clips and bobby pins to create different hair styles. I found "playing"
with my cosmetics the worst as what man would do that. Seeing me wearing
bright pink lipstick and green eye shadow was another major blow to my
masculinity.

Of course I saw Madam Simms on a daily basis for at least four hours. I
still had to practice the basics like writing femininely, voice training
and behavior. For my poise and behavior lessons I was given a book for
young lady's published in 1952. A couple of nauseating chapters in this
book described basic feminine hygiene. Madam Simms not only made sure I
knew the contents of those chapters completely but practiced them as
well. Since I didn't have a pussy you can guess the substitute I
practiced on. Looking back those lessons weren't that bad as I was
considered too young to have a period.

Other than "growing up" the other big change was Mademoiselle Lily. I
saw her Monday through Friday for two hours for ballet lessons. She came
to the house and taught me in the basement exercise room. When I first
went down there I was surprised to see all the weight and strength
training equipment gone. The room had been remodeled into a mirrored
dance studio for the most part with a small section devoted to a tread
mill, step climber and stationary bike. Mademoiselle Lily was a tall
thin woman, perhaps in her mid-forties and very demanding. Those first
lessons left my body hurting in places I didn't know you could hurt but
in time I adapted. The only time I left my room was for dance. It
wasn't a lot of freedom but better than the nursery that I never left.

It was during my "young girl" time that I noticed that my nipples were
becoming sensitive and seemed to have developed lumps under them. I
should have been more concerned then but I figured that wearing a
training bra all the time was the cause. Another thing I wrongfully
disregarded was not having much feeling in my groin or having an
erection. Actually at the time not having one was a big relief as the
barbs on the chastity device had been very painful.

It was in this room that I learned the basics of young girlhood and
ballet. I was taught the rudiments of clothing coordination and care,
cosmetic application, hair, nails and skin care, sewing and how to keep
my room spotless. More importantly what Madam Simms ingrained into my
mind set were the things that entertained and were enjoyed activities of
a young girl. Things like being boy crazy, makeup application, fashion
and music. They weren't enjoyable or entertaining to me but I did appear
to love those activities. Like I said, the punishments just weren't
worth my defiance.

Another good thing about that time was that I could actually keep track
of it. I had an alarm clock and there was a window I could look out of.
Finally Madam Simms said I was ready to move into my new room. I spent a
little over six months in that room and had really concentrated on my
studies and behavior. Yes, I knew what the Stockholm Syndrome was but I
had to be that way or it was back to the nursery plus I wanted to escape
all my tormentors. The only way I could do that would be to advance to
the next level. If I were treated more my true age and had more freedom
of movement I just might be able to escape. I pinned all my hopes and
desires to get to that level for the sole reason of escaping. I also
held a dim hope that now I would be allowed back into my boy clothing.
Like I said it was a dim hope but I had to hold onto the belief that I
would eventually get to be myself again.

Ooo

My new room, wow, it was just as feminine as the last. The walls were a
pale egg shell white with a wide floral boarder and cream plush
carpeting. The furnishings were in the same style as in my previous room
except the white enamel with gold piping was gone. This furniture was in
its natural maple wood and the canopy gone from the bed posts. The satin
skirting on the vanity and bench seat was a powder pink and the linens
were sensual lavender satin with a bright pink pillowed satin comforter.
The attached bath still didn't have a shower but this tub was a whirlpool
which I came to enjoy very much.

While the room and bath were not that much different the wall décor
certainly was. Instead of Justin the large framed one on the wall at the
foot of the bed was very disturbing. It depicted a heavily muscled man
wearing nothing but a Speedo that emphasized his very prominent package.
That picture would be the first thing I saw in the morning and the last I
would see at night. On the wall beside the bed was another large framed
picture. It depicted a prima ballerina en pointe wearing an elaborate
leotard and tutu. Two posters decorated the wall on each side of the
lavender satin curtains. One was Brad Pitt and the other Johnny Depp.
The aroma filling the room wasn't just the floral scent I was use to.
This one had a hint of spice and musk which I liked better than that
overly sweet floral scent.

The lighted vanity was overflowing with cosmetics and hair care products
only this time they were not k**'s stuff. The large walk-in closet was
overflowing with dresses, skirts, blouses, fancy nighties and tons of
shoes. Up until this point what shoes I had worn were either Mary Jane
styles, tennis or shoes with a one or two inch block heel. I spotted
several pairs in this closet with what looked like a seven inch spiked
heel and a thick platform sole. Seeing those shoes sent a shiver up my
spine and for just a second I had misgivings about coming here.

Opening the top drawer of my dresser I found it stuffed with different
styles and colors of nylon and lace frilled panties. In the second I
found, stacked in neat rows, many different kinds of bras with a satiny
finish. The third had camisoles, full and half slips all lavished with
lace and made of the slinkiest of fabrics. The forth was filled with
foundation garments most of which I was totally unfamiliar with. It
didn't take me long to hate the training corsets. The fifth was filled
with fancy garter belts and hosiery and the sixth had an assortment of
leggings most in a bright floral pattern and a few Capri's. The belts,
scarves and purses were in containers inside the closet.

After looking around my new room I was both pleased and saddened by the
lack of anything remotely masculine. I was pleased that it was a more
adult room and saddened that my enf***ed feminization would be
continuing. Again Madam Simms informed me that my old room and the
nursery were still mine and I could wind up back into either of them if I
didn't display the utmost concentration on my studies and behavior. She
also informed me that if I did well and showed enthusiasm that I would be
allowed trips out of the house.

Let me tell you those threats were taken very seriously. If you don't
believe me then you wear the same diaper for two days. That's the kind
of memory that never fades or having to listen to Justin and other boy
bands sing the same songs over and over again all the time you are awake.
See if you can take that for a week. The carrot she dangled in front of
me, getting out of the house, was a really great incentive. I was
salivating at the very thought of a much greater chance to escape. So
don't blame me for doing my very best to comply with her demands.

Becoming an older teenager had other benefits such as Delilah no longer
came to supervise my toilet. It really didn't matter because by now I
did my morning and evening toilet automatically without thought. My
meals became real none vegan food although I seldom ever got any red
meat. Oh what I would give for a hamburger or better yet a nice thick
juicy steak. The few times I was served a small piece of red meat, I
savored it like one would a rare vintage glass of wine. With the richer
diet I was gaining weight which introduced me to my most hated feminine
garment, the training corset.

This particular corset was made of a heavy canvas like material with
elastic bands and panels strategically placed to pull in my stomach,
round my shoulders and up lift my butt. It had a smooth soft lining,
rigid stiff metal boning, zipped up the front and tied off in the back
with laces. It was a miserable thing to wear, keeping my back ram rod
straight and retained heat. Fortunately, I only had to wear it at night
but my day time corsets weren't much better. I have to admit that they
were very pretty. These corsets were made of satin in bright colors and
frilled with contrasting lace and satin ribbon bows. The training corset
reached from just below my breasts down to mid-thigh while my day time
ones stopped at crotch level. They both had one thing in common besides
being uncomfortable. They kept my back ram rod straight, my waist and
stomach in and my butt and chest out.

Another bothersome item was added to my feet when I went to bed. It was
like a five inch wedged heeled pointed toed sandal except it was covered
in black leather and laced up to just past my ankles. This device kept
my feet angled downward at a steep uncomfortable angle. I later
discovered that his horrible device, when worn over time, would shorten
my Achilles tendons forcing me to wear high heels all the time. It also
f***ed my toes into a permanent "V" with my big and little toes pointing
inward at a sharp angle. My feet ache all the time now but hurt if I'm
not wearing at least a four inch heel. It is the reason that when doing
ballet, I'm en pointe most of the time.

Madam Simms continued my lessons in deportment, voice and penmanship.
Only this time the deportment and penmanship lessons were very different.
Deportment emphasized female to male relationships and flirting
techniques. For penmanship I was given a pink leather bound diary in
which I wrote down my innermost thoughts. Both of these changes were
extremely embarrassing and humiliating and the worst I had encountered so
far. These lessons were very mortifying and humiliating for me and I
balked at first but going back was out of the question. I had to get
away and my best chances lie in staying in this room.

I hated having to master flirting techniques like batting my eye lashes,
pouting just so, even to how I licked my lips plus other methods to
attract male attention. Madam Simms had given me an anatomically correct
love doll to practice my more advanced education. I spent a lot of time
just reading magazines like "Cosmo," "Play Girl," "s*******n," and the
like. In addition I read a lot of romance novels and watched way too
many chick flicks.

An hour before bedtime each night I had to make entries into my diary.
If you think those entries were just mundane repetitions of what happened
to me that day you're wrong. No, I had to make entries not only in a
neat feminine script but from a girl's point of view. My love doll's
name was Jake, no mistaking the gender of that name, became "my"
boyfriend. As such, I made daily entries into my diary all about how
"wonderful," "darling," and "sweet" he was to be with and how much I
"wanted" him in a much more personal way. Yuck! If you read my diary you
would swear a love sick adolescent girl was the author. It took several
months, some pain and nausea before I acted excited and enthusiastic
enough to please my nanny.

It was also determined by Madam Simms that I was now old enough to have
my period. Now that was almost as disgusting as having to make out with
Jake. I learned all about keeping track of my cycle, the use of tampons,
pads and other hygiene practices of a woman who's sexually active.

Most of my lessons concentrated on my inter-personal relationships and
hygiene but not all. I had to keep up with the latest fashions, makeup
and music plus I had ballet. I eagerly awaited my dance classes as I was
driven to Madam Lily's studio for those. There is no way to put into
words how delighted I was to actually be outside but these excursions
were closely supervised. I was entered into her regular class of girls
about my own age. I was scared, shy and intimidated attending those
first classes. I was scared that I would be discovered as a boy. I was
shy being the "new girl" and never had to socialize with them as an equal
before. Their talent intimidated me as I didn't have the long term
training they had. However after two or three classes I became very
comfortable being around them. With all my training I could easily talk
on their level about fashions, makeup, boys, music and boys. Within a
few weeks I was friends with most of the f******n girls in the class.

Ballet was a welcome relief from my intensive "girlie" training and just
being able to talk to others my age refreshing. Looking back on those
early days I should have expected something was wrong. I still thought
of myself as a male but I had absolutely no sexual feelings towards any
of them. What I found myself doing was comparing their clothing, style
and looks to my own. Even Heather the prettiest girl in my class with
her firm C-cup breasts, flowing golden hair and green eyes didn't get a
physical reaction out of me. I just lusted after her beautiful green
eyes wishing I had them.

My trips out of the house were not just to ballet. Occasionally Madam
Simms e****ted me to the mall to do window shopping mostly. She used
these times to observe me using my flirting techniques to get boys
interested in me and how I reacted to seeing a really cute outfit.
Initially I used these trips to see if I could find a way to escape but
over time the impossibility of it dawned on me. Madam Simms kept a very
tight rein on me and never let me out of her sight or grasp. Once I saw
a police officer close by and thought about running up to him and
pleading for help but didn't have the courage.

Think about it, I looked and appeared to be a pretty teenage girl. I was
dressed in panties, B-cup naturally filled out bra, frilly semi-
transparent pink nylon blouse, black mini-skirt, black hose and pink four
inch spike heeled strappy sandals. I had been using my feminine voice
for so long there was no way I could ever sound like a man and in full
makeup. None of the girls at ballet had a second thought that I was
anything but a pretty eighteen year old girl. Even I no longer
questioned that after seeing myself so many times in the mirror. The
only thing that proved otherwise was my chastity device. If I ran up to
that officer and said I was a boy being f***ed to wear girl's clothing by
the time he quit laughing Madam Simms would have pulled me away. I
didn't even want to think of the punishment that act would get me. After
that day I pretty much gave up any hope of escaping my fate. Hell, by
now, even my thought processes were becoming almost totally feminine. I
found myself thinking of myself as a girl more and more as each day
passed. I even tried walking and behaving like a boy a few times but
failed dismally. My only hope now rested in becoming all the girl I
possibly could so that Stephanie would release me from Madam Simms.

Now that I had been in this room for a few months, I saw Stephanie more
and more often. At first she was still very cold and aloft but gradually
she seemed to warm. On her last visit she hinted that if I continued to
behave and conduct myself as the pretty girl I appeared to be she would
let me continue to live in the house without any direct supervision.

Talk about an incentive. So I did my very best and completely submerged
my real self some where in the very back of my mind. After another six
months, I was given a choice by Stephanie.

"Darla Jean I have a proposition for your consideration. You can
continue here under Madam Simms's care or you can move on with your life.
No, don't say anything until you hear me out. Should you decide to move
on, you will have to agree to go out with a young man I have selected.
He comes from a good f****y and, in a way, is special like you are. I
need to form a relationship with his f****y and getting you two together
will seal the deal. You have until your ballet recital next Saturday to
give me your answer, any questions?" she said.

To say that I was shocked would be an understatement. Go out with a boy,
was the first question that hit me and the second was could I even do
that. I don't know how long I sat there with my mouth working but
nothing coming out but finally managed to ask,"Wha...what do..do you mean
go out?"

"What I mean is that you will agree to marry this gentleman if he asks
and become his legal wife. This state recognizes same sex marriages and
your union will form the business base that I need. Like I said, don't
give me your answer now wait until after your recital and get to meet
him. If I were you, I'd give my request very serious thought," she said
getting up and leaving.

Holy crap! That was a stunner. I never expected anything like that and
was totally taken away by her demands. What was I going to do? I wasn't
gay but then again I wasn't a real man anymore either. My penis was
small and didn't really work, I had real boobs and a full B-cup at that.
Thanks to my corsetry my body shape was definitely female and I had to
wear at least four inch heels to even walk comfortably. As I peered into
my full length mirror all I saw was a young woman and a pretty one at
that. Madam Simms's intense training regarding female to male
relationships had really dimmed my aversion to gay sex. Not totally but
to a large extent anyway in that I didn't toss my cookies or get sick
performing those intimate acts.

There was that great big carrot though. I could get my freedom from not
only Madam Simms but Stephanie as well. It would be a totally different
life than what I had planned but still I had been living full time as a
girl for about two years. There were even aspects of womanhood that I
actually had grown to enjoy. Things like the wonderful clothing choices
and variety, the silkiness of the lingerie and that I could show my
emotions or silliness without qualms.

So here I sit awaiting my cue to go on stage. I met my husband to be,
you might have guessed it, his name is Jake. To be exact Jake
Summersfield Esquire, the third son of the Summersfield's of New York.
He's tall, quite handsome with a muscled frame and a junior partner in
his father's prestigious law firm. I still haven't made my final
decision yet but my time is running out. Oh dear, that's my cue. What
am I gonna do?

100% (4/0)
 
Posted by klammer
1 year ago    Views: 2,964
Comments (4)
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1 year ago
sexy
1 year ago
What a great story and so masterfully detailed out. The forced transition drew me in and held me. Can't wait for more.
1 year ago
nice story!
1 year ago
fantastic story so hot and very hard to belive
thanks
zJay