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Message-ID: <55401asstr$1172844603@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Daemon Way <daemonway@yahoo.ca>
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Subject: {ASSM} ST: "Teacher - Part 55" (nc, mc, F/F, transgender)
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Date: Fri, 02 Mar 2007 09:10:03 -0500
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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TEACHER - PART FIFTY-FIVE

By Daemon Way

daemonway@yahoo.ca

	As Cory stared down at the two dazed, drugged cops he
thought back to the conversation he, Billy and Juan
had almost two months ago after they had discovered
the rape of Trang and Molly by the two cops.  Billy
had been particularly angry.
	"The fucking arrogant sons-a-bitches!  Who the fuck
do they think they are?  They have no fucking idea who
they've fucked with."  To Billy all women were bitches
who were placed on earth for one purpose and one
purpose only, and that was to please men, and he saw
the two thirteen-year-old girls no differently, but
they were his bitches, and you didn't mess with what
belonged to Billy Dean.  That his uncle had cracked
Molly's cherry and had introduced her to the womanly
duty of spreading her legs for a man was no more than
nature taking its course.  The girl had been flashing
her pussy around town enough that someone sooner or
later was going to do it, and there was nobody better
to introduce a young girl to the fine art of fucking
than his uncle Eli, unless it was Billy himself.  It
had also been perfectly natural and justifiable that
Molly and her best friend Trang later service the
nerds that they had been teasing and putting down,
just as given their personalities and God-given sweet,
innocent looks, it was only natural and justifiable
that he had big plans of turning the two girls into
porn stars.
	Getting screwed by two macho cops on the other hand
was neither natural nor justifiable.  The girls had
been doing no wrong, and in fact flashing their
thirteen-year-old pussies and budding teenage tits at
old codgers who couldn't get it up anymore and at
their classmates who had no chance of ever seeing a
girl's tits or cunt never mind making it with a girl,
and their teachers who got no reward for putting up
with a school full of hormone-crazed teenagers five
days a week was doing them all a favour.  It wasn't
anything they deserved getting raped over.  Billy had
little liking for cops, and he had even less liking
for bad cops who figured because they had a badge and
a uniform they could break the laws they were supposed
to be upholding.  He had least liking of all for cops
who intruded into his territory and played with his
toys without his permission.
	"Oh yeah, dude, those two whities need to be given a
lesson," agreed Juan.  Like Billy, he had no use for
cops who abused their position, and in particular for
these two bigoted white extremists who looked at him
and any other coloured person like they were dog shit.
 That one of them had taken Trang's virginity
particularly angered him.  The taking of a young
girl's cherry was a very special occasion.
	"Given a lesson?  They should be given cement shoes
and tossed in the Santa Ana, that's what should be
done with the honkies."  With Billy's gang
connections, Cory knew that could very well be a
possibility.
	"No way man, death is too good for the arrogant
bastards," disagreed Juan.  "They need to be taught
some humility.  We should get Aris Pandoppolis to ship
them off to some Arab country where they can become
eunuchs for some sultan's harem.  Surrounded by
luscious dark-skinned young beauties all day and not
having the equipment to do anything with them would
serve those two right."  Considering their strong
racial prejudices and their macho attitudes, Cory had
to agree that would be particularly suiting.  Aris
Pandoppolis had warehouses on the docks in LA that
were rumoured to be used for illegal imports and
exports overseas besides his legal business.
	"Hell, they should be castrated and sold to some Arab
prince to be used as his boy toys.  I know there are
Arabs who have a thing for white guys."
	"That would never work.  They're too ugly," observed
Cory as he tried to imagine the two cops bending over
for some handsome, dark-skinned Arab prince.
	"Cory's right," agreed Juan.  "They're not good
enough for an Arab prince.  They're more suited for
some bedouin tent on the edge of some desert town
servicing stinking camel-herders who have come in off
the desert for something different to poke than their
camels."
	"I dunno, compared to them camels would look good,"
Cory observed and the three of them laughed.  To
thirteen-year-old Cory anyone over twenty was old and
desperate.  To tell the truth, given their ages the
two men were not bad looking, and being physically
active, they had hard, muscular bodies that a lot of
men would envy.
	"Actually with their looks they'd make good dykes,"
Billy observed, thinking particularly of their size
and weight and Eric O'Malley's square chin and Mike
Polanski's broad face and wide nose.
	"Actually, I know some stevedores that work for
Pandoppolis who have girlfriends who don't look half
as good as those two do," commented Juan, and they
laughed again.
	"You guys know anything about transformation?" Cory
asked.  The two of them looked at the
thirteen-year-old in surprise.  Despite all they'd
been involved with together and as well as they'd
gotten to know him in the past three months, he still
surprised them with his sexual knowledge.  "I read
these stories, you know, about guys who mistreated
their wives or women bosses or whatever, and they had
the guys changed into women to become their sex
slaves.  That really possible?"  The porn he'd read
over at Jacob Schuller's had certainly made it sound
like it could happen, and he was discovering there was
a fine line between fantasy and reality when it came
to sex.
	"Yeah," replied Billy.  "It's possible.  It's called
transgendered surgery or some shit like that."
	"I met a transsexual hooker once.  Fucking awesome
bod with boobs like this," Juan said, gesturing
breasts the size of watermelons, "and a cock like
this."  Billy and Cory laughed at the impossible size
of the horse cock Juan would have them believe the
hooker had.
	They'd thought no more about it, but that had been
the beginning.  A couple days later Cory had mentioned
the idea to Bob Moser as they followed Julius Gilles
one afternoon out to a dirty, rundown playground in
the Baldwin Park district where stray dogs tended to
congregate and watched him make some new doggy friends
as Bob had ordered him to after having a particularly
bad day and being royally pissed off with Julius and
arrogant do-gooders in general.  For Julius, romping
round the playground naked and sniffing butts and
letting the mongrels fuck his ass, and doing his civic
duty to keep the place clean by eating up the dog shit
littering the place, was still a better alternative
than his soccer team at RGAB discovering a picture of
him eating out Bob's ass, which was Bob's alternative.
	Anyway, Bob got Cory in touch with Freddy Rabb, who
attended the Royal Glencoe Academy for Boys where Bob
had once taught and coached soccer.  Freddy had
admired Bob as a coach and had been angry when the
Board had dismissed him, feeling even if the charge of
messing around with guys was true it was no reason to
fire him.  He knew lots of guys who messed around
together.  Though the handsome teenager was the
heartthrob of half the high school girls at the
Academy's sister school, Gladys Harper Private School
for Girls, and was no virgin, having lost his
virginity to one of the cheerleaders who'd been so
agog of his good looks and his popularity that she'd
let him crack her cherry, he saw no problem with a guy
if he was gay.  It was no big deal.
	He especially hated his father whom he knew had
pressured the board into firing Bob and had threatened
to withdraw his son from the school, along with his
annual donation, which he made not so much because he
thought highly of the school as it was a great tax
deduction.  As one of the top surgeons in Riverside
that was a substantial sum.  Besides, his father was
an arrogant, pretentious snob who acted so pure and
upright and so incensed over the immorality of the
world publically not because he believed in any of the
shit but because it was politically correct.  It was
the same reason he had enrolled Freddy in RGAB besides
of course the prestige having his son enrolled in the
private school brought him.  Meanwhile on the sly his
father was regularly breaking the law, overcharging
his equally snobbish and overly rich patients,
falsifying his earnings to the IRS, giving medical
favours to his close friends or those in power he was
sucking up to, and dabbling in illegal stem cell
research, thinking he was going to make a major
discovery that would be the cure for all of society's
ills, medical and otherwise.
	His father having an illegal supply that he couldn't
very well report having losses from, it was easy
enough for Freddy to get his hands on as much female
hormone as Cory wanted, which Cory passed on to Billy
who gave it to a friend of his and Juan's, Ravindra
Shankar, who worked with his uncle at the Dunkin'
Donut shop that the two cops visited regularly on
their beat.  Ravi hated the two cops for their racial
prejudice and the way they looked down at coloured
people, and for their homophobic attitude,
sixteen-year-old Ravi being gay and proud of it and
having come out to his family two years ago already. 
It was an easy matter to crush the pills and insert
them into the filling of the donuts, and to stir them
into the coffee.
	While the cops were being fed their daily doses of
estrogen and other hormones with names that meant
nothing to him, Cory hung around the donut shop or
other places they frequented, always out of sight, and
broadcast feelings of comradery and friendship between
the two cops, something that already existed and only
needed reinforcement, along with subconscious feelings
of something that went beyond male bonding, feelings
that he was now after two months of such broadcasting
ready to bring to the surface and expand upon.
	"They're out of it," the leader of the group of six
men who had crashed the hotel room at the Economy Inn
announced as he bent over and opened the lids of one
of the cop's eyes, interrupting Cory's thoughts. 
While in the final throes of their ecstasy, which was
partly natural and partly enhanced by Cory through his
headband, Cory having slipped into the room unnoticed
by the two cops as they'd begun sixty-nining with
Anton and Ravi so he could do his thing for their
fourth and final climax, the first three being totally
of their own doing, the cops had been given an
injection of something to knock them out.
	Packing the two cops out to the police cruiser, the
group of them headed out to the home of one of the men
in Baldwin Park.  Doctor Rabb was there waiting for
them.  Freddy having mentioned his dislike for his
father and his father's illegal research to Cory when
Cory had asked for the hormones and had mentioned that
Bob Moser had sent him, and Cory having mentioned it
to Billy, it was an easy matter for Billy to convince
the good doctor that if he wanted to avoid going to
jail, that he cooperate.  The fear of losing his
licence, the thought of not being able to continue his
research in which he was certain he was about to make
a breakthrough any day now, and of greatest importance
of all, the humiliation and loss of prestige if he was
arrested, made Billy's proposal one that he could not
refuse.
	Laying the two naked men out on the tables that had
been set up, he administered the anaesthesia and
picked up the scalpel on the tray.  The rest of them
quickly left, their part in the revenge complete.  For
the next three weeks the men were fed intravenously as
they drifted in and out of consciousness and the good
doctor monitored their progress.  He was a skilled
surgeon and the operation no longer as complicated as
it once was, and his two patients were strong and
healthy, and, as he'd observed to Billy with some
amusement, had a lot for him to work with.  During
those three weeks Cory dropped in to do his next part
in the revenge too.  In their drugged state, it was
easy for him to probe their minds and to direct and
influence their thoughts, much like a hypnotist does
with the subconscious mind when he puts a person
under, but 
Cory also found it much more difficult to stay
focussed, and to keep them focussed, as in their dream
state their minds jumped from one thing to another,
often with no relationship between the two.
	He'd been using the headband for six months now so
some things came easy, like linking a real memory or
thought with a related one so that the related one was
accepted as the person's own.  That had been one of
the first things he'd done, first on a conscious level
with Goosey and his sons and later directly on a
subconscious level like with Reverend Winthrop and
Father Henry.  Both cops were completely and
unshakably heterosexual and had been all their life,
even as children.  They deeply loved their mothers and
their wives despite the fact women see things
differently from men and they didn't always understand
that female way of looking at things.  It was an easy
matter for Cory to find and link those thoughts with
his own thought that it takes a woman to really know
and understand a woman, actually a thought both men
also had and which he simply connected to their
thoughts and feelings of love and sex and then
repeated over and over each day so the idea increased
in importance, a trick his great-grandfather had noted
in his journal and one Cory had found many
opportunities to practice.
	Similarly over time he'd become more skilled at
probing a person's mind, an ability his
great-grandfather had not discovered and one he
himself had first achieved without knowing or
understanding the procedure back when he'd tried to
read Goosey's mind for the answers to one of Goosey's
dumb Physical Education tests, and had then
accidentally done experimenting with his other
teachers.  He'd become so skilled at probing that he'd
easily read Molly and Trang's minds during the orgy
with his classmates over at Callie Dean's, and more
recently Reverend Winthrop's thoughts about God and
about his son while Cory was hiding in the recess in
his church videotaping him.
	So it was really not that difficult to probe the
semiconscious minds of the two cops, though sifting
through their memories and seeking out the snippets
that he could use, and modifying those memories ever
so slightly to incorporate new memories totally of his
making did take time and was something he'd never done
so extensively.  Cory was motivated though, and his
persistence paid off.  Besides, some of it was fun,
like discovering the cops' memories and thoughts about
their foreplay with their wives and how their wives'
tits and pussies felt.  Those were so vivid and strong
it was like he was laying there in bed doing it to
their wives himself!  The memory and disappointment of
the many attempts to get their wives to touch them
between the legs like they touched their wives and
their wives' resistance was also very strong.  Taking
their thoughts about how good a woman's pussy and tits
felt, Cory linked them to the idea that it took a
woman to know how a woman thought and felt, just as
only another man could really know what it felt like
to have a cock and to feel horny, a thought fresh in
the cops' memory from a similar comment by Anton while
he was pleasuring them.  It was easy to weave in that
their wives found touching their cocks and balls
distasteful, and the cops' macho belief that men
touching men there was disgusting and immoral.  Cory
repeated the sequence of thoughts in his mind and
pinged them to the two men who readily accepted the
thoughts as their own.  Touching cock and balls, bad;
touching tits and cunts, good; men touching cocks
disgusting, women touching cocks disgusted; men
touching women good, women touching women good.  You
always saw women embracing and sharing their feelings
Cory quickly pointed out when his last thought was met
with opposition, which immediately quelled any
resistance to the idea.
	Other thoughts were not so easily connected.  Both
men admired their dads and wanted to be like them, and
both admired certain traits of their mothers, like
their tenderness and delicacy, their compassion for
others, and of course their unquestioning support for
their sons.  While they admired those traits, they
resisted Cory's thought that they wanted to be like
their moms.  That would make them effeminate, and that
they definitely did not want.  Cory could feel the
resistance as he pressed the idea that to be like
their moms, to be like women, did not make them
effeminate, but he persisted and concentrated all the
harder on the idea, gradually deepening the channel in
their brains and reducing the resistance.  When he
tried the next step, pinging the idea that sex between
people of the same sex, especially women having sex
with women, was acceptable his thought was met with an
immediate and even stronger opposition.  There were
some things that had been ingrained in their memories
all the way back to their youth and would take a long
time to reverse.
	He'd come a long way in using the head band over the
past six months, but there were still things he was
just discovering and learning how to do, like how to
trigger their memory of tastes and smells and how to
plant his own so they'd think it was theirs, something
his great-grandfather had said he'd done in his
journal.  That was easy for Isaiah McFarlane who got
friends and neighbours to think they were biting into
a lemon or an onion instead of a juicy apple.  It was
much harder when he didn't have the words to describe
things, like how cum tasted.  In the heat of their
last ejaculation he'd managed to ping them with the
idea that the taste of cum was good, but what it
tasted like was another matter and had come out a
jumble.  Fish and cheese?  Well, it was the best he
could do, and it seemed to have worked.
	Even harder was picking up another person's moods
without feeling that way too, something else his
great-grandfather had experienced and had attributed
to the work of the devil and so had avoided.  When
he'd slipped into the room as they'd engaged in sex
for the fourth and last time, their feeling of
horniness had been so strong that it had been all he
could do to stop from pulling out his dick and
whacking it off, and when they'd come their sense of
pleasure had been so strong, in part because it really
was and in part because he'd been intensifying their
feelings all the while they'd been having sex that
last time, he'd had to break off the connection or
he'd have creamed his underwear.
	The idea of the ultimate revenge that they'd come up
with had been awesomely wicked but to work required
getting the two cops to make a major mental change,
and that was the hardest part, especially in that it
was something he'd never tried doing before, and nor
evidently had his great-grandfather.  He was really
stretching his ability and his use of the band to new
limits and he was beginning to think that changing
their attitudes and beliefs was going to be
impossible.  Their prejudice against immigrants for
example was so ingrained that the anger and repugnance
whenever Cory triggered their thoughts of Ravindra
were so strong that Cory tensed with anger and hatred
himself and actually felt his stomach heave with
revulsion, beliefs and reactions that he definitely
did not have himself.  Getting them to have an
accepting attitude toward immigrants instead of hating
them was a task he had doubts he'd achieve.  As for
changing their minds about beliefs like it was all
right for women to have sex with other women, he'd
have had an easier time convincing them to give skunks
blow jobs.
	An hour of intense concentration trying to replace
their beliefs and attitudes with more supporting
beliefs and values like he and Billy possessed left
him with a splitting headache and so drained he
couldn't even get up a boner before going to bed, and
that was bad!  Even worse, it was not just a day or
two, it was every day for three solid weeks!  When
Doctor Rabb finally said his two patients had healed
physically and no longer needed monitoring, Cory
didn't care if they were ready mentally or not.  Three
weeks of not getting his nuts off was cruel and
inhumane torture for any thirteen-year-old, and
especially him.  He pronounced them ready too.
	Eric O'Malley stretched and yawned and sighed.  It
felt like he'd been asleep for days.  Taking a deep
breath and slowly releasing it, he ran his hand over
his face and scratched his armpits as he usually did
upon waking.  Something was wrong.  He scratched his
left arm pit again, and then the right, and slowly
rubbed his chin.  He raised one arm and squinted at
his armpit and then did the same with the other.  He
had no pit hair.  He rubbed his cheeks.  They were
uncharacteristically smooth and soft.  Rolling over on
his side, he felt a pillow pushing against his chest,
preventing him from totally rolling over.  He groggily
reached up and wrapped his fingers about it and
pulled.  The pillow seemed to be attached to him.  He
opened one eye.  It was attached to him, but it wasn't
a pillow.  It was a tit.  A nice, big, round, smooth,
pink tit.  He closed his eyes and took another deep
breath.  He'd been having a weird dream all night, but
this was the weirdest part of it yet.
	He slowly opened both eyes.  Mike Polanski was laying
beside him, mouth wide open as he snored contentedly
and stark naked.  At least it looked like Mike
Polanski, but he looked younger and his face smoother,
more like a teenage boy's than a man's, or more like a
woman's.  He slowly glanced down.  It was not his
partner of the past three years.  The person beside
him had Mike's face, but he had the upper body of a
woman.  He slowly lowered his gaze to the person's
crotch.  His groin was shaved, and what was between
his legs was definitely a woman's.  Hesitantly,
fearfully, he dared glance down at his own body.  Like
the person beside him he was totally naked, and like
the person beside him he had large, gorgeous tits, and
wide hips, and a shaved groin, and a cunt.  He shook
his head violently.  He slapped his face hard.  If he
was dreaming, the slap felt surprisingly real, and it
didn't wake him up.  He slowly sat up and looked
around him.
	It was a small room, maybe ten feet by eight, with
only an exceptionally large bed, a night stand, two
padded chairs, and a coat rack in the corner.  A very
large floor-length mirror extended almost the entire
length of one of the longer walls.  He slowly got up
and paused to catch his balance.  He felt very
light-headed and wobbly, and top heavy.  He looked at
his image in the mirror, and moving closer, studied
it, viewing his body from front and sides, trying to
see his backside.  It was his hands and his feet, and
his arms and legs though hairless now, and his face,
though smoother and younger looking, and his mind, but
the rest was not his body.  He slowly turned and
looked down at the naked person on the bed.  What was
going on?  He thought back to before he'd fallen
asleep.  The last he could remember was being in the
motel room at the Economy Inn, him and Mike,
sixty-nining with the two faggot boys.  A surge of
arousal shot up between his legs, up  . . .  up his  .
. .  his vagina.  Getting his nuts off with a guy, and
a kid to boot, had been the most disgusting thing he'd
ever done, and had been the most erotic, most
pleasurable experience he'd ever had.
	Mike stirred and slowly opened his eyes and stared up
at him.  The initial hazy, sleepy look turned to
surprise and then bewilderment.  Eric knew what his
partner was thinking and what he was going through. 
Wait until he discovered his own body.  Mike's look of
shock, and of disbelief said it all.  His partner
didn't have to speak.  Eric didn't know what to say
himself, and nor did Mike.  Mike slowly, tentatively
touched his right breast, and then sat up and swung
around to sit on the edge of the bed.  He raised his
right eyebrow in bewilderment as he looked up at Eric.
 That was Mike.  He always raised his eyebrow like
that when he was confused or uncertain, but this
eyebrow was thin and manicured.
	"I don't know, but I don't think we're dreaming
ol'buddy," Eric observed.
	Mike looked at him, and then down at his own body
once again as if hoping his eyes had been deceived. 
"You think they gave us something, acid or something?"
	"I don't think we're hallucinating."
	"Holy fucking Christ!"
	"Yeah."
	"How'd this happen?"
	"I dunno.  What is the last thing you remember?"
	Mike concentrated, and his face flushed a bright
crimson.  That was Mike.  He always blushed easily,
and his face turned redder than any man Eric had ever
known.  "What do you remember?" he asked, unable to
bring into words the last events he could remember.
	"Lying in a bed, smaller than that one, beside you,
the two of us  . . .  the two of us naked, being
forced to engage in oral sex with those two young
queers, surrounded by a bunch of thugs and immigrants
looking down at us, leering, smirking. . . ."
	"Yeah."  Mike shuddered with the memory.  Never had
he felt so humiliated and so ashamed, so angry and
hateful.  "And then, after, after I shot," Mike said,
struggling with voicing what had happened and how he
had felt to another man, well, to his partner,
whatever sex his partner was now, or whoever this
person was before him, and struggling with the sudden
surge of pure ecstasy and a desperate horniness the
memory of that last climax brought, a horniness that
made his  . . .  his  . . .  his cunt ache,
"everything began to spin and get dark."
	"And someone was looking down at us," Eric observed,
struggling with the same feelings of ecstasy and
horniness with the memory of that moment.
	"A boy, very early teens, with thick reddish-brown
hair and blue-green eyes, and a light shining about
his head, like, like a halo," Mike said, calling up
the details as if describing a perp, calling on his
training as a policeman in a desperate attempt not to
think of other things, like his body, desperate to
prove to himself that he was still him.
	"Hair was sort of longish, and held in place with a
gold band about his forehead, a strange sort of thing
with symbols of some sort," Eric continued, doing the
same thing.  He was thinking like a cop.  He was
thinking like he always thought, so it had to be him,
his mind anyway.
	"Yeah.  And he was smiling."
	"A strange smile, sort of knowing and sort of curious
though, and comforting."
	The look of an angel the two thought though neither
was prepared to say it.  Eric sat down and the two men
sat there on the edge of the bed numbly.  There was a
limit to how much detail a person can describe, and a
limit to how much being a cop could delay them from
thinking of more pressing and personal questions. 
They cautiously looked at their bodies again, and even
more cautiously stole looks at each other.  Trying not
to be obvious, Eric casually ran his hand up over his
chest.  He cupped his right breast and squeezed it,
and then rubbed it.  Mike followed suit, checking out
his own boobs.  He dared to run a fingertip over the
large, dark nipple and he felt an immediate pang of
arousal shoot through his chest, a pang even stronger
and more erotic than when his own nipples had been
touched by the East Indian faggot.  The memory sent
another shock of arousal shooting up between his legs,
deep up his groin, deep up his  . . .  up his cunt. 
He shook his head.  What did he mean by "his own"
nipples?  What was he thinking?  These were his
nipples that he was touching that very moment.  These
were his breasts.  It was too confusing.
	"They feel weird," Eric observed.
	"Fucking for sure."  Mike didn't know what else to
say.  He slowly caressed the firm, swollen mounds,
just as he caressed his wife's.  He'd often wondered
how it felt for her, to have boobs and to have them
touched, and now he knew.
	"It makes you feel good actually, touching them,"
Eric said as if he'd read Mike's mind.
	"Yeah.  I sometimes wondered what it felt like for a
woman."
	"Me too."
	The two men sat there palpitating and caressing their
breasts, cupping them and squeezing them.  They were
nice and solid, like their wives' used to be when they
first married.  Two months of breast enhancement drugs
had resulted in the buildup of fat deposits and a
softening of their broad pectoral muscles, causing
their chests to become flabby as they'd noticed much
to their dismay.  Making tiny incisions under their
arms where their breasts began, Doctor Rabb had easily
removed those fat deposits and had inserted the
silicone gel, stretching the loose skin to the maximum
to give them the nice firm tits of a young, fully
mature woman.
	They caressed their nipples and as they quickly grew
firm they felt pangs of lust pass up their new
vaginas.  It was delightful, and like scratching a
mosquito bite, they could not resist doing it again. 
As they concentrated on the strange, new feelings
between their legs, feelings that were intensely
pleasurable, they vaguely remembered lying on a table,
a doctor beside them, inserting something between
their legs, telling them they had to keep their
vagina's dilated for the next week on a regular basis
until they could stay dilated on their own, until
their new vaginal muscles built up strength to
function properly.  They squeezed as they remembered
squeezing to close their peeholes and to their delight
they felt their vaginas close.  They relaxed and
squeezed again.  Their vaginal muscles felt so much
more powerful than the sphincters of their penises,
and operating them brought them an even more intense
pleasure.
	Unable to resist, they slowly reached down and
running their fingers over their shaved pubes they
tentatively and tenderly ran their fingers over their
labia.  They shivered with the shock of stimulation
and with the immediate swelling of their fresh new
lips.  As the good doctor had observed, the men had a
lot to work with, and their foreskins made excellent
material for the new cunt lips.  Running their index
finger along the slit, they thought of how good their
wives' cunts had felt and how hot it had felt stroking
them.  They also recalled wondering what it had to
feel like for a woman.  Well, it took a woman to know
how a woman felt, and now they did.
	Inserting the tip of their index fingers inside their
now throbbing and juice-slick slits, they slowly slid
them up and down the shallow crevices.  Striking their
clit, actually the stub that was left of their
penises, a new shock of arousal shot through their
groins and their clits immediately grew hard.  They
fingered them repeatedly, recalling the sensation of
having the rims of their knobs stroked and recalling
wild it drove their wives when they touched that spot.
 It was similar to having their knobs stroked, which
of course it should be being the same erectile tissue.
 Tentatively they eased their index fingers deeper up
their vaginas, which had been constructed by coring
out their penises and then turning them inside out to
create the well they were now exploring.  Blood rushed
into the spongy tissue, causing it to swell.  The two
men quivered.  So that was what it felt like for a
woman to be penetrated.  They slowly worked their
fingers in and out, concentrating on the new feelings.
	Glancing over at each other, they knew how the other
was feeling and what the other was thinking without
saying anything.  It took a woman to know how another
woman felt.  They reached over and cupped each other's
breasts, stroking them and caressing each other's
nipples, bringing each other the pleasure they'd
brought their wives hundreds of times, but now knowing
the pleasure they were bringing.  They took turns
snuggling down and kissing and sucking on each others
tits while they reached down and caressed each other's
labia.  It was so nice to be touched down there by
another person instead of being the only one doing the
touching as had been the case with their wives. 
Touching a woman down there was good.  A woman
touching another woman down there was good too.  Their
cunts were swollen by then, and each purposefully
sought out the other's clit and stimulated it, sending
shocks of pleasure through it.  Just as men they'd
known how each other felt, now as women they also
knew.
	As they felt the desire throbbing between their legs
begin to increase, they thought of the delightful
orgasm they'd had while engaged in a sixty-nine with
the two faggot boys.  It had been perverted and
disgusting, but it had felt so good, better than any
orgasm they'd ever experienced.  Again without saying
a word, they rolled over on their sides and assumed a
sixty-nine position.  As men they'd never consider
doing each other, and they'd certainly never consider 
muff diving, but they were women, and women cared for
each other and expressed their love for each other
much more freely than men.
	They were comrades once, fellow cops on the beat. 
They knew each other well, better than they knew their
wives.  They knew each other's wishes and desires,
each other's fears and hatreds.  They had a lot in
common.  That was why they were partners.  That was
why they were good cops.  They had a lot in common
now, their new sexual organs, their new feelings.  The
deep, subconscious love each felt for the other, the
feelings Cory had implanted in their minds as they sat
in their cruiser eating their cream-filled donuts and
sipping their estrogen-laced coffee over the past two
months at last came to the fore.
	Eric stuck out his tongue and ran it over Mike's
cunt, sending thrills through it as Mike did the same
to him.  He buried his face in Mike's crotch and
licked and sucked.  He wormed his tongue inside the
slit and lapped at his clit, at her clit.  He, or
rather she, reached around and caressed Mike's smooth
butt as she sucked deeply on Mike's cunt.  She inhaled
deeply, delighting in the womanly fragrance of Mike's
cunt.  Michael's cunt.  Michaela's cunt.  Yes,
Michaela, and Erica, their new identities.  The names
fit their personalities, and their looks.  They were
the perfect names for two women standing at over six
feet and weighing over two hundred pounds.  Erica drew
back and looking up at her partner, she smiled, and
twisting around, kissed her, her lips sticky with
Michaela's cunt juices, and Michaela's lips tasting of
her own cunt.  They French kissed, worming their
tongues inside each other's mouth as they'd wormed
them up each other's cunt and they pressed their
delightful, full tits against each other.
	And then they reversed positions again and resumed
licking each other, sucking on each other's cunt,
striking each other's clit with their tongues, causing
their hot, throbbing pussies to fill with juice until
they overflowing and their hot, slimy juice was oozing
down the inner side of their thighs.  It was sheer
delight to be a woman.
	On the other side of the mirror Doctor Rabb smiled
with pride.  He'd never performed transgendered
surgery before but the operations had evidently been
huge successes.  Their silicone breasts looked
fantastic, better than the natural breasts of many
women, and their labia and clits had clearly healed
and were functioning as a woman's should, and from the
copious and constant flow of cunt juices, so were
their vaginas.  As for their reaction to their sex
change, and toward each other, both were a total
surprise.  He hadn't been told why he was performing
the operation and he knew better than to ask, but you
didn't have to be a rocket scientist to figure out
under the circumstances in which he'd been called in
that the two men had not been willing participants. 
He'd expected surprise, which he had seen in their
faces, and perplexity, which he'd also seen, but he
had not expected such ready acceptance, nor feelings
of lust.  If anything, the cops being heterosexual and
macho, he'd expected those interests to have remained
the same, except now directed at men.  Of course in
that the two had been physically attracted to women as
men, it did make sense in a way that they'd still be
attracted to women but now as women.
	It made perfect sense to Cory.  When Mike and Eric
had reached their fourth and final orgasms with Ravi
and Anton, he'd transferred the pleasure each was
feeling to the others so that each person was not just
feeling the pleasure of his orgasm but the pleasure of
the other three as well, magnifying their pleasure by
four.  And, as the two cops trembled and bucked with
their fourth ejaculation he'd pinged them with the
idea that sex with the same sex was not a bad thing,
and in their heightened sensitivity and raging
emotions at that moment, they accepted it as a truth. 
How could they deny it when they were having the most
pleasant and powerful orgasm of their lives?  Cory had
frequently called up that new belief during their
recuperation these past three weeks, reminding them of
the intense pleasure they had felt, reminding them it
was the result of having sex with a person of the same
sex, and extending the belief that sex between two
women would be a good thing too.  Now, as they were
experiencing their first genital stimulation as women,
he brought up those beliefs again, cementing the idea
that sex between two women was good with the
undeniable pleasure the two were feeling as their
cunts throbbed and ached with a pleasure they'd never
known before.
	Calling upon his own experiences with his mother and
with Antoinette, and adding the thoughts he had picked
up from Molly and Trang the day they'd had sex with
each other, he broadcast those feelings to the two
men-women, reinforcing the idea how great their cunt
juices tasted, like the sweet juice from freshly
squeezed berries, and how delightful it was to be able
to please each other.  The first time he'd realized
the extent of his ability to trigger tastes and to
enhance moods had been that afternoon at Callie Dean's
when Nick had engaged in his first threesome and Molly
had frigged herself with the chicken leg.  Now he
blasted the two men with his new found power,
instilling in them a lifelong taste for cunt juice and
a profound love of a woman for another woman.  He
called up once again the comradery the two cops had
felt and the subconscious feelings for each other that
he had planted and now at the height of their sexual
arousal and as the first wave of their first orgasm as
women swept over them, he hammered home the rightness
of the love they felt for each other and the rightness
of the love and pleasure two people of the same sex
can feel for each other.
	Reprogramming their deeply held beliefs into totally
opposite beliefs and rewarding those new beliefs with
the greatest positive reinforcement of all, that of
pleasure, and the greatest pleasure of all, that which
throbbed between a person's legs, was a new and
exhilarating experience for Cory, and though his first
attempt was crude and rudimentary, it was working as
evidenced by the lust with which the two cops devoured
each other.  They sucked deeply on each other's hot,
throbbing cunt as the second wave of orgasm hit them. 
They gasped and groaned as they experienced the new
delight, that of a woman's orgasm.  They contracted
their cunt muscles and relaxed them as wave after wave
of pleasure pulsated through their groins, their cunts
saturated with juice and flushed and throbbing with
heat.  The pleasure of their orgasms caused them to
jerk their hips wildly and to grunt and sigh with open
abandon.  Wave after wave struck them, each taking
them to a greater high.  Their hearts were racing and
their breathing laboured as they buried their faces in
each other's hot, slimy cunt and sucked and licked in
desperation, and Cory, his heart beating just as fast
and his breathing just as laboured, shuddered as he
felt his cum gushing up his cock and filling his
underwear as he watched on the other side of the
mirror.  As they shuddered in the greatest ecstasy
they'd ever felt, the two women recalled their
powerful orgasms as men, and felt the overwhelming
delight of a thirteen-year-old boy squirting off a
load and they cried out with the terrifying explosion
of their own womanly orgasms.
	Billy and Juan could not believe what they were
seeing.  The two macho cops with their faces buried in
each other's muff and their sheer delight in their
first orgasms as women was beyond their wildest
dreams.  What was going to be even more delightful
than turning the two macho men into cunt-loving dykes,
was that while they would now have a burning desire
for each other, they would always know and remember
their achievements and the delight they'd once felt
when they were men.  Though they would long for those
days again, that would be a life they'd never be able
to return to.  That was just punishment for the crime
they had committed, far better than being eunuchs in
some Arabian village serving stinking camel jockeys. 
And thanks to the marvels of modern technology, Billy
and Juan had caught the momentous event all on tape so
they could enjoy the occasion for many months to come.

*****
Thanks to Billy for suggesting the lesbian plot in
this story and to John for suggesting Cory might find
the solution to punishing the cops from Jacob
Schuller.  What further fun and havoc can Cory create
with his growing awareness of the power of his
great-grandfather's headband?  What is going to happen
to the Gilles family, Vice Principal Stewart
Millburne, Baptist Pastor Winthrop and his family,
Kenneth Ballard and his mother, Father Henry, Calvin
Cosher and his daughter Stacey, the WCHS gang, the 14
RGAB soccer players and their families, the cops Erica
O'Malley and Michaela Polanski, Anton's RGAB
classmates, Dominic, Terry, Anthony, Bob, Billy Dean,
Ben Hanson, Jacob Schuller, Benji Gilles, Callie Dean,
Jonah Winthrop, Lane and Spence Spudder, Nicole
Halder, Molly, Trang and Ashley, Nick Dawson, Nat and
Darien Wilson, Emma and Elijah Dean, Aunt Rosa and
Uncle Rafael, Juanita, Luther, and Lucy, Ramon Carlos,
the nerds of Lincoln Junior High (Fats Fortillini,
Peter Manchester, Dwayne Hainsworth, Jerome
Eisenstein, Wilbur Thornton and Dylan Ingles), and now
Ravindra Shankar along with of course Lad, Rocky,
Shep, Dobe and the star of the series, Cory Wilson? 
Watch for Part 56 and a pivotal event that will
drastically change everyone's lives.

__________________________________________________
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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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