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Message-ID: <28259asstr$978700206@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Louis Nessus" <nessus29@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Nessus RP: Wicked Game 13 (FD)
Date: Fri,  5 Jan 2001 08:10:06 -0500
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This story is intended for the enjoyment of adults over the age of 18 or 
whatever the legal age is in your part of the universe. It contains fantasy 
scenes of graphic sexual activity.   Please, if you are under the age of 18, 
or if you will be offended by such material, use your intelligence and read 
no further - delete the file.  Otherwise ....enjoy!



The Wicked Game Chronicles:
Book 1.
The Devil and Mr Brownlow.
(Part 13.)

by Nessus

FemDom Mast Humil CB Magic




My eyes blinked and I looked around slowly. I was seated at my old desk on 
the eleventh floor, Troy was seated at his computer in his office and there 
was the general noise of the office around me. Troy looked up, saw me and 
smiled. I smiled back.

I felt very strange, almost detached, waking from a horrible dream. Glancing 
down, I saw a handbag on the desk and a woman's black suit coat draped 
across the computer. Reaching for it, I saw my hands were smaller, my 
fingernails long and red and a thin bracelet around my wrist.

Suddenly, Angeline was next to me, her hand resting on my arm. "Don't 
scream," she said quitely. "Relax. Come with me." She steadied me with her 
arm as I slowly stood, the horror rising in my throat as I saw I was dressed 
in a white blouse, black skirt, hose and high heels. Angeline scooped up the 
handbag and the coat, then led me to the elevator.

Numb, I walked into the empty elevator and stared at the mirror wall. A 
young beautiful woman, brown eyes wide in horror, stared back at me as I 
leaned against Angeline.

"I'm a woman," I gasped. "He turned me into a woman!"  The woman in the 
mirror stared back at me. I still had dark hair and I could see similarities 
between the old me and this woman. The hair was fashionably short, breasts 
annoyingly large, long legs and a slim body. I felt smaller, vulnerable and 
lost. "Why?" I whispered to the mirror and Angeline helped me to slip the 
coat on. A beautiful businesswoman in the mirror looked back at me.

The elevator doors opened and Angeline bustled me outside the building to a 
bench in the corner of the building forecourt. I looked down at my high 
heels. "How can I walk in these things?"

"You just did," she reminded me as she pointed at the bench. "Sit." I dusted 
the bench down and sat, arranging my skirt to the top of my knees. Angeline 
smiled at the gestures. "You have all the skills of a twenty-five year old 
woman. You just have to let your subconscious guide you through. Soon, you 
won't remember being a man."

"Never!" I protested my voice strange to my ears. "I want to change back!"

Angeline shook her head and sat down next to me. "Only he can undo this. 
He's manipulated time as well as your body. Look in your bag."

My handbag, I thought weakly as I pulled my passport from it. My name was 
now Christine Brownlow and the young woman in the passport photograph smiled 
back at me. "Why?" I asked softly.

"It's a wicked game we play, Christine. The Wicked Game for the soul of the 
Chosen One."

"Whayt do I do now?"

"Live your life. Enjoy it. As a woman."

"No! I want to change back. I'll never accept this! I have to find him."

"Don't chase him," she warned. "Don't attempt to play the Wicked Game. You 
need to know the ancient rules."

"Then tell me!"

"No," she said calmly. "I can not do that." She stood. "Goodbye, Christine. 
Live a full life."

"No, wait! Don't leave me alone like this."

She smiled. "You're never alone. Let your subconscious help you with the day 
to day things and your soul will guide your though the spiritual."

"Angeline!" I protested but she vanished, leaving me alone on the bench. 
Slowly, I walked back into the building, disorientated from the peculiar 
motions of my body. Feeling incredibly self-conscious as I joined a group of 
people in the elevator. A tall man looked down at me and smiled. Ignoring 
him, I examined my feelings. Was I attracted or interested? Was I repulsed 
and revolted? The answer to both of these questions was a resounding no. I 
was dead inside, numb with no feelings at all.

Weakly, I sat at my desk and examined the contents of my handbag. All 
identification and credit cards bore the name Christine Brownlow.  Apart 
from the usual female paraphernalia, I found the chastity device nestled at 
the bottom. Remembering my own peculiar past, I stared at it for a moment 
and tried to imagine what was between my legs now. Nothing.

"Ah," said Troy, "the secrets of a woman's handbag."

Startled, I looked up and he smiled down at me and at the cosmetics 
scattered over the desk. His expression changed. "You ok, Christine?" he 
asked, concerned. "You seem a little pale."

"Just a little off colour," I said, my feminine voice strange to my ears.

"Why don't you take off a little early?" he said. "Get some sleep."

"Thanks. I might do that." Donna wheeled her cart to my desk.

"Hi, Ms Brownlow."  With a coy smile, she dropped the gilt edged invitation 
to dinner with the Chairman on my desk. D j  vu, I thought as I stared at 
it. Christine Brownlow and partner it said.

"Thanks, Donna. Donna," I suddenly said. "Do you go up to the thirty-seventh 
floor?"

Donna looked at me strangely. "We only have thirty-six floors."

Shocked, I tried to maintain a business facade. "Of course. That's what I 
meant."

"I go up there. Why?"

"Just curious. I've never been there," I said and Donna smiled as she 
wheeled her cart away.

"Got your invitation," Troy observed smugly. "Don't worry, it's not a small 
event. About a hundred and eighty people. The Chairman and his executive 
team like to welcome all the new graduate recruits. There'll be about You 
won't get to talk to Will Macintosh or any of his execs but you've got to 
go. If you want up the ladder, you can't be a no show."

"I have to go?" This was like Ground Hog Day, except I was Bill Murray in 
drag.

"I just said that. You'll dazzle them with that royal charm of yours. You'll 
need a date."

"Maybe," I said puzzling over my next move.

He cleared his throat. "I'll be there as a supervisor. So, if you're looking 
for company," he said, tailing off and I looked up at him.

"Thanks. I'll go by myself."

He looked crestfallen but I felt nothing. I just didn't care. "Ok," he said, 
recovering. "I'll see you there. You should take off early, Chris," he said 
as he walked back to his office.

I took his advice and left work early. Self-conscious, aware of the rolling 
movements of my new body and the prominence of my new breasts, I avoided the 
stares from passing men as I headed home. The apartment was the same except 
for the obvious signs that a woman lived there. Female clothes hung in the 
wardrobe and in the drawers while an array of cosmetics dominated the 
bathroom.

Cautiously, I stripped and excamined my new body. Large breasts, long legs 
with a neatly trimmed black bush between them. I felt neither aroused or 
repulsed. Slipping into a large fluffy robe, I sat at the table and, to my 
utter surprise, cried.

When the tears and the sobbing subsided, I wiped my eyes, blew my nose and 
made a strong cup of tea. I couldn't let it end like this.

This Wicked Game. I wondered if I was still a player or just on the 
sideline. I wanted my old body back and I knew I had to find Duivel in 
whatever form he or she inhabited. I had dealt with the Devil and half-won. 
If I was to be Christopher again, I had to get back into the game.
End Part 13(Final)

Appreciate your comments by email: Nessus 29@hotmail
_________________________________________________________________________
Get Your Private, Free E-mail from MSN Hotmail at http://www.hotmail.com.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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