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Message-ID: <40614asstr$1043723403@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Bigby stories" <bigbystories@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} How Abraham became Abigail; m/F t/F, t/M transformation, Fdom
Date: Mon, 27 Jan 2003 22:10:03 -0500
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Author; Bigby
Title; How Abraham became Abigail
Summary; an adolescent boy gets a modeling job; but not as a boy
Keywords;  m/F t/F, t/M transformation, Fdom

More Bigby stories at;
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Bigby/www/
and;
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Bigby/     [in plain text]

I sure do appreciate getting some mail back;
bigbystories@hotmail.com

This story is a prequel for "My dream girl with a dick"

How Abraham became Abigail;

It began when I was 16, and the phone call came.  My mother had submitted my
photograph to a model agency, and someone wanted my face for some
advertising.

I went to the address after school to meet the photographer; it was a small
studio, just the photographer and a makeup girl.

I was very impressed; they both seemed so glamorous.  The photographer,
Daisy, was a beautiful woman, who looked half Oriental.  She was somewhat
petite, and in her forties.  The makeup girl, Francine, was slightly
younger.

"You must be Abraham."  Daisy said, introducing herself and shaking my hand
and businesslike manner.

"What do you think, Francine?"  She asked her colleague.

"Let's get him into the light."  Francine replied.

I felt odd as they sat me in a chair and walked around me, discussing me as
though I were an object.  I guess I was, to them.  I was only there as an
image, not as a person.

They shone light on me from different angles, and Daisy took a shot or two,
since she couldn't seem to breathe for very long without photographing
something.  They decided I would do.

"We can do the shot on Tuesday, it will take all day, or maybe even two."
Daisy told me, "It pays $150 per day.  Interested?"

"Yes, of course."  I told her.  Why else would I have come? 150, maybe $300;
that seemed pretty attractive.

"You'll have to dress as a girl."  Daisy told me.

Well, that threw me.  I wasn't sure I wanted to do that.

"Come on now, if you want to be in modeling, you'll have to learn to be
flexible."  Daisy informed me. "Still, if you say no, we'll understand.
It's not for everyone."

She seemed so nonchalant about it; it wasn't really a big deal, I thought;
probably no one would ever recognize me in the photos anyway.  And I could
get myself the bicycle I wanted with that much money.  I agreed.

I arrived as instructed at 9 AM Tuesday morning.  Daisy hadn't yet arrived,
and Francine sat me down at her bench.

She wrapped a cloth around my neck, like they do at a barbershop.  She ran
her fingers through my blond hair, examining my scalp with an artist's eye.

"I'm going to enjoy this,"  She told me, as she began to pin and spray my
hair. "I love getting creative."

I enjoyed the touch of her fingers on my face, neck, and scalp as she
worked.  I found her attractive, although I had no sexual interest in her;
the girls I was interested in didn't even know I was alive.

Francine added blush to my face, and I was too shocked to object when she
started to put mascara around my eyes.  She carefully painted my lips red,
but as I saw my face in the mirror, I knew no one would recognize me, no
way.  That wasn't me, that was a girl.

Francine glued long colored fingernails on top of my natural ones. "Don't
worry, honey; they come right off when we're done."  She said.

Clamp on earrings, a fake pearl necklace, a stuffed bra and a pink blouse
and matching skirt.  I went behind a screen and stripped down to my
underwear, and pulled up the net stockings Francine gave me.  Open high
heels finished my transformation.

Daisy arrived; she was pleased.

"Outstanding, Francine.  Exactly what I wanted; female, yet not too
feminine.  Androgynous, that's the look."

I stood in front of a plain colored backdrop while Daisy shot the first
roll, then we stopped for coffee and cookies.

"I don't understand."  I said, "If you wanted a girl, why didn't you start
with one?"

"I've had some trouble with people stealing my models."  Daisy told me. "I
break in a new girl, and the next thing I know everyone is using her except
me.  They'll never figure you out, they'll scour the agencies looking for
the girl I've been photographing, but never find her!"  She laughed, we all
did.  It was pretty sly.

"Seduce the camera."  Daisy instructed me, "You're a girl; remember that,
look at this camera like you've always dreamed a girl would look at you."

As she said, it took all day.  But in the end, she was satisfied she had
some usable material.

"I'm going to the dark room."  Daisy told us, "Francine, help Abby clean
himself up.  Tomorrow at 9 AM, people."

Somehow I had the idea that Francine's hands were finding excuses to touch
me; she sort of stroked my neck as she cleaned the makeup from my face, she
stroked my hands slightly as she removed the fingernails.  She lifted the
dress I wore for the second half of the shoot over my head, and her hands
caressed my body as they passed.

My hard on bulged embarrassingly through my underwear.  She looked pointedly
at my crotch.

"Do you need some help with that, honey?"  She asked.

Francine was a Hispanic looking woman, with slim hips and generous if not
very large breasts.  She was slightly taller than me.  I have to admit that
spending the day with these two women fussing over me had left me in need of
release.  I was looking forward to going home and masturbating while
thinking of Daisy.

Francine wasn't unattractive; she was just... large.  This older woman
wanted my cherry, she'd asked me for it.  My heart felt like it would pound
its way out of my chest, I was so excited and afraid.  I'd never even taken
a girl out on the real date, I wasn't ready for this.  I was just about to
finally decline her kind offer, when her hand slowly encompassed my cock
through my underwear.  I felt myself go a bit stiff; I enjoyed her touches
on my body earlier, but this was 20 times stronger, this was overtly sexual,
this was irresistible.

"You sit back, baby.  Let Francine take care of this for you."  She
whispered huskily.

She had a lovely mouth I observed, as I watched it encompass my cock.  I'd
never felt anything like this, I'd never even imagined anything like this;
the warm friendly moisture of her mouth, the perfect pressure of her tongue
and lips against my penis made me helpless; she could do at she liked with
me, dress me as a girl, a dog, an elephant, I didn't care.  I never knew
that such pleasure could be.  I came, I came so hard it hurt for hours
afterwards.  Francine's black tresses looked out from between my fingers as
I held her face at my crotch, looking down into her big brown eyes.

The second day went essentially as the first, but there was an intangible
extra in the atmosphere of the studio; a secret sexiness.

Daisy photographed the vibrations as though they were light.  It was her
art, her profession.  I was amazed when I saw the photographs; that sexy
woman couldn't be me; in fact, it wasn't me.  It was an image created on top
of mine.  It was photographer's fantasy; at first.

Daisy left that evening after the shoot, and Francine begged me to come home
with her.  As I was.

"I can't go out like this, Francine!"  I told her.  I was still frightened
of her, frightened of what she'd done to me.  Francine had made me a girl,
and she'd made me a man.  I knew she wanted more; it must be fun to suck a
boy's virgin dick, but I knew that she wanted me to go away with her.  I
might be ready, I was thinking, but as a male.

"But Abby, no one will recognize you.  Don't you trust me?  Come on, let's
go back to my place.  I'll fix you some dinner, and we can have some fun."

She wrapped her arms around me, and stroked my head.  Her thigh pressed
against my stiff cock, her breasts against my chest; my adolescent libido
couldn't refuse her a thing.

I didn't realize we'd have to take the bus.

I was nearly shivering in fear at first, but no one seemed to take much
notice of us.  A couple of men looked at me strangely; then I realized that
they were flirting with me.  I didn't know what to think, so I didn't think
at all.

Francine fed me, as she promised, then we sat on the couch and stroked each
other and kissed for awhile.  She reached under my dress, and stroked my
hard on; I opened her blouse, and ran my hands over a pair of breasts for
the first time.

Finally, we went to her bed; her body wasn't what I'd fantasized of, but she
was a woman, a woman who wanted me.

My school was filled with girls my age, 15, 16, and 17-year-old girls with
tiny hips and big breasts; perfect complexions and the vitality of youth.
But they didn't want me, Francine did.  And Francine got me.

We made love into the night; I came early, but stayed hard.  I never had a
large penis, but she seemed happy with it.  I made her come more than once,
and she held me in her arms with more affection than I'd never known.



Some weeks later, they wanted me again.

Francine had wanted me several times in between, and had had me, too.

It was an outdoor shoot this time, on location.  The company the first
photographs had been for had been very pleased, and wanted to do a whole
series of advertisements.

As I accepted my fantasy feminine role, I began to enjoy it.  I was playing
being a girl, a photo model; I smiled and pranced, twirled and flirted with
the camera.  People stopped to watch; I was embarrassed at first, but soon
gained confidence.  We were far from where I lived, and no one, no one would
ever recognize me.  No one would think that skinny blond kid Abraham could
be this glamorous model.

The company wanted video of me, they wanted to do a TV spot; Daisy insisted
that she would be in charge.  Of course the film crew didn't like that, but
they had no choice; no one knew who I was.  I sure wasn't going to tell
them.

And whenever we could, Francine and I would be bonking away, usually at her
place.  We didn't love each other, that was accepted; but there was a great
affection between us, and we both just loved to do it.  I trusted her; some
people would say she abused that trust, that she destroyed any possibility I
had of living a normal life.  But I love what I've become, what she helped
me to become.

It was Francine who told me how easy it would be to get the hormones over
the Internet; Francine who pointed out that at my age, I could choose my
gender.  I could become what I was pretending to be.

I was amazed at how quickly the transformation began; I suppose a lot of it
was just placebo effect, but I felt more and more girlish.  My tiny male
nipples started to puff outwards, my breasts began to grow.

Of course, my mother noticed; how could anyone not notice?  I tried to keep
her from finding out for as long as I could, until there wasn't much she
could do about it.  I was a girl, I looked like a girl, I talked like a
girl, I walked like a girl.  She thought it was just a passing thing, a
little fantasy that was being encouraged by the film crew.  When she found
out about the breasts and the hormones, she cried.

Of course I felt bad about that, but I didn't want to go back.  I had the
attention I always wanted, I was desirable.

"But I'm so happy like this, Mom; I love being a girl. Couldn't you just
accept me as a daughter?"

My mother prides herself on her liberalism, but accepting my transformation
stretched it to the utter limit.

Boys asked me out, men held doors for me.  Everyone melted when I smiled at
them, it was glorious.

Of course, there was still a cock between my legs.  I found I was becoming
less interested in Francine, and more interested in men.

She knew it would happen; she knew that our relationship was transient.  She
knew I was too beautiful to keep.  She knew about the effect of the
hormones; Francine's given name at birth had been Francis.

I decided I wouldn't be going back to school in the fall; the gender issue
made it almost impossible.  And besides, I was in demand.  Not nationally or
anything, but the company I'd done to first advertisements for were making a
lot of sales; I'm not saying that's because I was their cover girl, but it
could have been.  Everyone loves a winner, and they commissioned another
series of television and print advertisements.

The whole crew was invited to the house of the company director; a big
victory party when the new sales figures were announced.

There must have been a hundred people there, the executives and sales staff
as well as we advertising people.  The boss was around 50 years old, a fit
handsome 50, though.

He flirted with me; all men flirt with me.  He was the boss, I flirted back.
He put his arm around me, and showed me his house.  He was a charming
bastard, and I guess I must've let it happen; but somehow, we were alone.
In a quiet room in one corner of his large home, away from my friends, away
from his wife.  His arm slipped around my waist again, pulling me against
his strong old frame; causing waves of excitement and fear to run through
me.  No one knew except Daisy and Francine, no one.

I looked up at him; his eyes regarded me with desire and amusement.

"I've wanted you since I first saw your photograph."  He told me. "What do
you think of that?"

"I don't know."  I answered, trying to figure out what to do. He could
cancel the whole campaign. Daisy and Francine, my best friends in the world,
were depending on it; it was the break they'd been waiting for, they'd
canceled other jobs, they could be ruined.  And so of course, could I.

The world is full of pretty faces, struggling to climb over each other to
just make a living, never mind getting to the top.

Otto could break me, or he could make me; he could do both.

The hand slid up my back, under my long blond hair, to my neck; with his
thumb under my left ear, and his forefinger under my right, he held my head
steady as he bent to kiss me.

I had never kissed a man; not a whole man.  I'd kissed Francine, but
Francine was a woman when I did that.  His lips struck mine like lightning
striking a pine.  It ignited a fire where I never even knew there was fuel.

I felt my cock stiffen; fortunately, I was wearing a special restraint that
I had gotten that kept it tucked under my ass while I was wearing thin tight
dresses.

Otto's strong arms held my young body tightly, and my arms went around him
involuntarily.  I wanted so badly to be a woman, I wanted so badly to be
held and loved, to be cherished, protected, cared for.

What a fantasy, what a dream; a big strong handsome rich man held me his
arms and kissed me.

Ah, but he was three times my age and married.  And I had a small
inconsistency in my anatomy that just might spook most men.

But there was nothing to be done; he was as strong as an oak tree, and not
only physically.  He was a man who was used to being obeyed; how could I
refuse him?  And yet, how could I accommodate him?

I felt the zipper of my dress descending down my back, I felt his confident
fingers on my young flesh.  I stroked his strong gray head, wondering what I
should do.  He bit my lip, and I gave him some tongue.  I must stop this, I
knew I had to stop; but I couldn't, I wouldn't.  Not yet. It was so
wonderful to be a girl in a man's arms.

My breasts weren't fully grown yet then, but he held them in his hands and
murmured words of appreciation.  He pushed me down onto the bed we had been
sitting on, and kissed my nipples, sucked on them, cherished them.

It was so amazing a feeling; to be loved as a girl, by a man. I was a virgin
again, a virgin girl. Otto was the man I wanted, I thought as his mouth
sucked on my new nipples. I heard myself moan; I held his head in my arms,
swept up by my desire.

His hands started to move down to my ass; alarm bells began to ring in my
befuddled skill, if he reached into the crack between my firm young buns, he
would find my small but hard cock strapped there.  My hands went to his
belt; the only possible defense was offense.  The only way I could prevent
him from finding my cock was to find his first.

It was big, bigger than mine at least.  It was hot in my hands, and hard.
Big blue veins ran down its length, and his balls were bigger and hairier
than I'd thought was possible.  My mouth watered involuntarily, and a thrill
ran through me; a cock, a real man's penis.  I reveled in my desire, the
desire of a woman for a man. To suck him, pleasure him, serve him.

A light push from my slim manicured hand pushed the large man flat onto the
bed.  I smiled at him seductively, and removed his shoes.  I basked in his
admiration and massaged his feet for a short time before pulling off his
trousers and underwear.

He spread his legs, and slowly I crawled towards the center of his
sensuality.  His big stiff penis was laying against his flat stomach.  I
gently ran my hand from his balls to the tip of his shaft and back again; I
wrapped my fingers around it, feeling the power of it in my palm.  I looked
up at his face; his grin was infectious, and I had to grin back.  I longed
to feel it in my mouth, nearly as much as he longed for it to be there; I
was a girl who loved giving head, I thought to myself, a girl who loved to
please. I opened my mouth, without breaking eye contact with my benefactor
and lover, I slowly lowered my mouth over his hot potency.

The sensation was more wonderful than I had imagined.  I could sense his
power, I could feel his sexuality through my mouth.  To suck his cock was to
know him, to know him as others couldn't.  It filled my mouth with its heat
and desire, its desire to fill me.  I toyed with his balls as I sucked him
deep, as deep as I could.  I'd never done this before, but I'd had it done.
I knew how to please him.

I broke off before he came, and licked up and down his shaft, letting it
cool slightly; I sucked his hairy balls into my mouth before resuming.

It was so odd to feel his body tensing, my mine always did for Francine; to
feel his balls move as his fluids were drawn into the passage that led
through the center of his hot manhood, to my lips.

The hot salty viscous fluid flooded my mouth, for the first time.  It was
glorious, it was joy.  I had brought a man to orgasm, and not just any man,
either.  A rich powerful man was giving me his seed, and I wanted it.  His
body was bucking involuntarily, and I held my mouth over his cock until the
last drop was delivered to me.  I ran my thumb up the base of his shaft,
milking the last drop from him.  I looked him in the eye as the warm sperm
slid down my throat.

It was an act of submission and humiliation, yet filled with power. While I
held his hard manly cock, he was mine.

I was afraid I'd feel some revulsion at what I'd done, but I never did. I
always loved it, from that first time with Otto.

There was silence for a moment after the action stopped.  Then he said that
we'd better get back to the party.

Of course I can never be a whole woman.  I could have the operation, and
then I would have a vagina.  That would please most men who would like to be
my lover; it would please me to be anatomically female, at least
superficially.

On the other hand, there are men who will accept me as I am.  There are men
who love me as I am.

My boyfriend loves to show me off to his friends.  What a man he is, to have
won a woman with looks like mine.

And secretly, in our bedroom, he loves to suck my dick.  I'm every man's
secret desire, androgynous, a beautiful woman with a penis.

And they fuck me; I love it when a man fucks me.

Otto was the first.

He wouldn't leave me alone after that blowjob.  He was always lurking around
the set, trying to get me alone.  Finally, Daisy had to do something.  She
told him the truth.

We didn't see him for a while; the contract had already been signed, and
after all, our work was earning him money.

But then he phoned me.

"I'd like to see you, Abby."  He told me.

"Are you sure?"  I asked him, confused.  Daisy had told him, hadn't she?

"Yes.  I'm going to New York on the weekend.  Would you like to come along?"

How could I refuse?  Did he really know?  New York!

I met him at the airport.  Naturally, we traveled first-class.  It was
something I would become accustomed to.

The hotel was fabulous, a dream come true.  Glamour, style, beauty; this was
the life.  I wondered then whether I could have this and keep my penis as
well.  Had Daisy really told him?  I wished I'd succeeded in getting through
to her before leaving home.

Otto took me shopping for clothes and shoes.  He bought me a lovely pair of
pearl earrings.  We had dinner in a magnificent restaurant.  Everyone could
see he was my sugar daddy.  I didn't mind; in fact, I loved it.  They were
just jealous, jealous of him for his ability to bed a young beautiful girl,
jealous of me for my beauty and my willingness to trade it for what I
wanted.

"This will be a first for me."  He said as we got back to our room.

"For me as well."  I answered him quietly.  I can't say I wasn't afraid; I
was terrified.  I'd been a virgin before, and now I was a virgin again.  I
was willing to suck his cock again, I was dying to suck his cock again; but
he would want more this time.  It was inevitable.

He undressed me gently, finely revealing my white little penis standing
stiff in front of me.  He caressed it gently in his strong hand; he kissed
me on the mouth, lifted me from my feet, and placed me on the bed.  I
watched as he undressed, admiring the thick white curly hair on his powerful
chest, his thick arms and long legs.  His gorgeous dick.

We kissed and stroked each other for a time, our thighs intertwined, our
penises sliding across each other, my female breasts against his masculine
chest.

I was shocked when he put his head between my legs, and started to suck my
cock.  It felt wonderful physically, but it blew my illusion of him; real
men don't suck cock, do they?  I've given up on that idea now, I love to
make men suck my cock now, but back then I wanted to be a girl, and be loved
by a real man.  Of course that wasn't possible.

The second night we were there, he fucked me.  How could I refuse him?  He'd
bought my plane ticket, put me up in a first-class hotel, wined and dined
me, bought me gifts.  He'd treated me like a lady, and sucked my cock until
I came in his mouth.

When his gentle massage began to concentrate more and more on my tight
little ass, when his finger violated the sanctity of my annus, I'd just
waited for the inevitable.

I felt the penis move down the crack of my ass, I felt the tip of it push
against the point of my vulnerability.  His strong hands pulled me open as
his  powerful sex organ slowly penetrated my body.

Gently, carefully, the big tool spread me open, pleasuring itself with me.

There was pain; but I accepted the pain, knowing that it was just a
stumbling block on the road to pleasure.

His hands pushed my shoulders against the mattress as his greased cock slid
in and out of me with surprising ease.  There was a burning sensation, and
he grunted with satisfaction and fucked me.

Finely, my sugar daddy climaxed behind me.  I was too afraid to enjoy it the
first time, except by proxy.  It pleased me that he'd done it to me, it
pleased me that he'd wanted me.

After returning home, I never heard from him again. "My wife wouldn't
understand."  He'd said.

I wanted so desperately to have those feelings again; to be wanted, to be
held and cherished. But it was very difficult. I was still under age, and if
I wanted to have a future, I had to keep the truth of my gender from getting
out.

I flirted, I dated; it was nice to be romanced by men, taken out for dinner,
dancing, shows. I loved to be held and kissed, to share soft little touches
of affection. I loved to give them blowjobs, but of course I could never let
them undress me below the waist, let alone touch me where I so desperately
wanted to be touched.

Since it was the only sex I could have, sucking cock became what I did; it
was my art form. I would crawl over my man, suck his nipples, rub his dick
over my big firm breasts. My tongue was my brush, and his dick the canvas; I
couldn't get enough. Big hard manly cocks; big ones, small ones, young ones,
old ones, black and white ones. I didn't dare stay too long with a
boyfriend. A few dates, a few loads of delicious white "Man chowder", and
then move on.

It was a sad and lonely stage of my life, since I was denied any direct
satisfaction.

So I just concentrated on getting what I could. I loved the Big Load; the
bigger the better. I wanted spunk, I wanted to feel my lover's orgasm hot
and thick shooting into my mouth.

I used to tease them for up to an hour before bringing them off, bringing
them close to the edge before letting them back again. I like to suck cock
with a little thick cream, or sometimes ice cream.

Usually, I dated older guys. They knew how to treat a lady [and would treat
me the same, not knowing any better], and could afford to take me to nice
places.

But I seduced a few boys my own age as well; it was always a challenge to
keep them from coming, but when they did, it was always plentiful and tasty.

When I turned 18, I could get into the one tranny club in the area; at last,
I could just be myself. I didn't have to lie anymore, the men who went there
knew the score.

I could dace and flirt in there, and if I liked someone, let him take me
somewhere where we could be alone.

Of course, anal sex is the most dangerous thing you can do after jumping out
of tall buildings without a parachute, we had to use special condoms to make
it safe. But at last I could be touched all over, I could enjoy the
wonderful feeling of a man fondling my genitals as we kissed and made love.



I'm earning well from my modeling work now, and I've been offered some small
television roles.  I don't need a sugar daddy any more, but I have one
anyway.

Just for fun.

Bigby 2002

This story is a prequel for "My dream girl with a dick", which can be found
on the url below.

More Bigby stories at;
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Bigby/www/
and;
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Bigby/     [in plain text]

I sure do appreciate getting some mail back;
bigbystories@hotmail.com

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