I tried keeping track of how many days I was held here, but I lost track around the third month. I had no windows, no clocks, no connection to the outside world. The people who ran this... Whatever this is, always kept my schedule. They would wake me up, take me to bathe where they would blindfold me and chain my hands above my head as the orderlies tended to my cleaning. Their rough, strong hands scrubbing me clean. They would then help me into my uniform, the tight, constricting shapewear bodysuit. It was obvious my form was growing, or shrinking rather, more feminine even though I wasn't allowed any mirrors, which I'm sure is a joint effort between the clothes and whatever they put into my daily shake.
The shake gave me all of the nutrients necessary, and any other chemical cocktails that would help get me to whatever point they were trying to help me reach. I came to enjoy the shake admittedly, as, though I was still blindfolded, I would be left alone for 15 minutes. I think the room had a skylight as I could feel the warmth on my skin and I could fade into my own little world until the orderlies unceremoniously snatch me up and take me to Emma, she washes my hair, my face, and does my make-up. She's shown me how, but she insists on doing it to admire what I'm becoming, ignoring my pleas to let me see what they've done to me.
The rest of the day is filled with my classes, where they teach me to walk, talk, and act like a girl. If I mess up, I get spanked. If I talk back, I get spanked. If I look like I need to be spanked, I get spanked. If I cry, I get spanked. I've become extremely graceful in my heels, my voice is high-pitched, I have anxiety when it comes to asserting myself and speaking up (or really any kind of interaction with anyone) now, so t's mostly the crying that gets me in that situation, not just because of being isolated, being controlled, not knowing what I look like anymore, the fact they took my balls and reduced the size of my cock so much it fits into a cage the size of a water bottle cap. Not even Dasani, one of those cheap generic grocery store water bottles based on what I can feel under my bodysuit. No, the thing that upsets me most is the thought of my girlfriend Gabby.
The last time I saw Gabby, I had done some horrid things. That was before, when I was the owner of a stuggling restaurant. She had gotten a job then-recently working for a man who was taller than me, stronger than me, more successful than me. He took a liking to her and they started going on business trips together, talking on the phone, having inside jokes. I was upset about this, nobody had ever made me feel this insecure and I didn't know how to handle it. Gabby promised me nothing was going on, but I wouldn't believe her. I did some... Unspeakable things that I've replayed over and over in my head. The next day she left for work, and that was the last time I saw her. I got pulled over that afternoon, then realized the cop approaching my car was in plain clothes too late to do anything about him lunging at me with a funny-smelling rag. I woke up here and my new routine started.
After I've done all of my learning and practicing for the day, I'm taken to the exam room where Doctor Rogers checks me out. She always feels me up through my bodysuit, I'm not sure if that's a part of it. I'm not sure the day of the week, but once every week she blindfolds me once more, strips me down, and cuffs my hands to the exam table, then bends me over and fucks me with a strap-on to completion. At first I was very opposed, but I soon came to know it as my only release. Plus, it hurts a lot more after she calls in an orderly to spank me first so I just let it happen. I've come to grow satisfied with it, even look forward to it. Doctor Rogers has referred to herself as a lesbian a few times, then laughed in my face when I asked why she likes fooling around with me if she only likes girls. That was a blow to any still-lingering illusions that they hadn't snatched the entirety of my manhood away. I think my giving up was also evident to her when she would joke about letting one of the orderlies take her place after I was locked in for my fucking. I used to beg her not to, or struggle. But one day I just silently nodded. She was still kidding, except for a few times. It made me sad that I could recognize who was who by the roughness of their hands on my hips. It's something I still struggle to accept as a thing that happened to me, moreso that I screamed and moaned to until I was a weak-kneed mess.
If it was a release day, they'd take me to the shower again. If not, I had recreation time. But it was just yoga, cardio, or an arcade game with a long, extended phallus protruding from it. Ashamed to admit it as I am, I would occasionally be too sore that I'd take the opportunity to rest on my knees for a bit and suck off the robot to try and beat my high score. Then I'd be led to bed, where my hands would be bound to the headboard, my eyes covered in a sleep mask, and my bodysuit swapped for a nightgown. The sleep mask had built-in headphones that played some very relaxing music I could never seem to remember.
But today was different. After the trip to the shower, I was unchained, my blindfold was removed, and the orderlies left. I would scream "wait! Don't forget me! I don't want to get in trouble! Please!" But the door was locked from the other side. I got into a fuss over the spanking headed my way and then I realized. I was alone. I wasn't cuffed. I wasn't blindfolded. I wasn't stuck in the suit. And the bathroom had a mirror! It was still foggy but I hesitantly approached and wiped it off. I felt a rush of adrenaline as I saw a face I didn't recognize looking at me. My first instinct was that I was caught and in trouble. But no... This was me. I started to take in the whole picture, my soft, delicate face. The long, thick, wet hair. The hairless skin. The perfect pair of tits, the kind I would have grabbed without hesitation before. My flat, toned stomach. My wide hips. My incredible ass. Wow, all of the hormones and exercises really did a number on me. Other than the tiny metal bottle cap between my legs, I looked like a woman no older than 20. Then it hit me. I look like a woman no older than 20. I approached again, trying to see anything of the old me in my eyes. Then the door opened.
"Please! I didn't meant to, they locked me in here. I tried to get out!" I shouted. My squeaky voice cracking in fear only to see Gabby in the doorway laughing at me. I was confused. I ran up to hug her. She stopped me, pointing out that I was still wet.
"Wow, the photos didn't do you justice. And that wittle voice. So cute." She said. I raised an eyebrow, confused. "Have you been a good girl for the nice people?"
"W- W- What's going on?" I stuttered, subconsciously knowing that questions gets me in trouble.
"W-w-w Well..." She teased. Rubbing my face like I was her little Sister. It felt good. "After what you did to me, I had a friend, a powerful friend, arrange things so that you wouldn't hurt me again." And Mr. Johnson, her boss entered as if on queue. That's when I noticed the hand she was rubbing my face with had a wedding ring on it.
"Y-y-you told me you w-w-weren't." I cowered in fear of a punishment.
"Weren't with Troy, here? That's the truth. I married a man who can appreciate my platonic and professional relationship with my boss. Plus, we weren't each other's type. I'm more into someone laid back, someone who isn't work 24/7. Who I can relax with, you being so insecure taught me that." And an orderly turned up and handed her a metal ring. She approached me, it turned out to be a collar with a leash attached. "And Troy, well, his preference is more..." She trailed off as she handed him the leash. Which he quickly pulled tight, yanking me forward into him where he wrapped an arm around me.
"B-b-but I'm not a-"
"I've seen the videos. We both have. You're no stranger to men, sweetheart. But I think you're going to be exclusive, but I hear he's more than enough man to keep you satisfied. And in turn, all you have to do is keep him satisfied. Clean his mansion, cook his meals, fulfill any urge he may have. So, congratulations on bagging yourself a very successful, handsome, confident, tall, REAL man." She said before leaning forward, causing me to flinch out of instinct, she gave me one quick peck on the lips. "We'll give you a week to get settled in, then we're going to have a double date at my Husband and my restaurant, I think you'll find it a little familiar. See ya then, Sis!" She said before walking out. I watched her leave, lip trembling.
"Girl." He said with another yank of the chain. I looked up at him, he was tall before, but I felt so much smaller next to him now. I just stared into his eyes, not sure what he wanted. He led me through the corridor, still naked, past everybody waving goodbye, giving me one last slap on the ass as I passed by. I saw full daylight for the first time in however long as he led me to his car. I sat in it. The sun-heated leather uncomfortable on my sore rear.
"I um-" He looked at me. I asked with my eyes if I could speak. He nodded. "I d-don't know how to clean, Mr-" I could see in his eyes I made a mistake. "I don't know how to clean, sir." He smiled.
"They offered lessons in housekeeping, but I saw those videos of you being spanked for failing your lessons and I figured since I was paying, they shouldn't get to have all the fun. That's why the little maid outfit waiting for you at the house has such a short skirt. Well. Once of the reasons." His free hand touched my smooth leg and ran up my thigh. I felt a tingle run up my spine and I bit my lip to avoid a pout. Don't let him see you cry.
"Y-yes, sir. Very s-smart, sir."
