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Subject: Title story: "Circus Story - 1" Author: She Devil 51496597
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Date: Sun, 14 Aug 2005 05:16:47 +0000
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Circus Story - 1
I give you a circus story.
It was better than most hospital rooms: bigger, better- equipped, comfortably
furnished, and conscientiously attended by a trained staff. But at this moment
it wasn't much better than the Drunk Tank at the City Jail, thanks to the hordes
of screaming relatives that clustered around the bed where my Uncle Hubert lay,
taking his own good time about dying.
"You can't do that! moaned Aunt Mary.
"It's a disgrace!" groaned Cousin Charles.
"We'll be ruined socially!" wailed a blue-haired old lady who relationship to me
I never was sure of.
"None-the-less," the strong tones of Uncle Hubert's voice silenced them all,
even from his death bed. "It's what I want and it's what I'm going to do!"
"But you can't!" Aunt Mary repeated. "You just can't leave all your money to a
bastard child you've never even seen ... the daughter of-of a common performer
-- or worse!"
"I can and I will," Uncle Hubert's voice grated more firmer than ever. "The
lawyers have already rewritten my will, and all I have to do now is find the
child... And by damn, I'm going to!
Now get out of here, all of you -- except you Martin -- Go on, get out!"
The others were herded from the room by a nurse who looked like a pro-football
linebacker and I was left alone with my Uncle Hubert.
"Any progress?" He asked eagerly.
"Some," I said, watching his old eyes light up. "The detectives have been
following up every lead you've given us, and it seems they might be on to
something. They're checking out rumors about a girl working in a circus or
something somewhere out west. They say it looks really hopeful, and if it turns
out good they should have some news in a few weeks."
"Good!" The old man knew he could hold out that long easily.
"You know, Martin, it's funny; I never thought much of you. Guess some of your
ideas were a little too far out for an old man like
me. But now it seems that you're the only one I can trust to do this. Maybe
it's because I never tried to buy your love like I did
all those others," he cast a disparaging glance at the hallway full of greedy
relatives. "Anyway, I want you to know I appreciate it and, if it works out, if
you find the child, you'll be well taken care of!"
"Sure, Uncle Hubert," I smiled, rising. "But the main thing now is for you to
rest. I may not be back for a few weeks, but when I do return, it'll be with
good news!"
Out in the hallway, the others ignored me as I left. Except for my cousin
Roderick, that is; I heard his mincing footsteps growing louder in the hallway
as he hurried to catch up with me.
"Well," he trilled, touching my sleeve softly. "How's the pet nephew today?"
"Still poor, but happy," I smiled, hiding the distaste I've always felt for
Roderick as best I could. For years I used to tell myself that I was unfairly
prejudiced against Roderick because he's gay and I'm not. But recently I had
come to realize that my dislike of the man had nothing to do with his sexual
preferences; he was just a little twerp, that's all. And a very irritating
one at that.
"And how are things with the upper classes?" I continued.
"Oh, you know that crowd," he wrinkled his nose at my reference to our mutual
relations. "Always worried about losing an odd hundred million or so. But just
what have you and Uncle Hubert been plotting, anyway?"
That was the one thing I liked about Roderick: you could see through him like
air. Clever he might be, but subtle? Never!
"Nothing very important," I lied, "but why should you care? You were never in
the will for very much anyway -- not that you needed it -- and I know you don't
lose any sleep over the welfare of us paupers."
We smiled at the half-truth of my remark. By conventional standards, I'm not a
pauper at all, with a trust fund that nets me a few hundred grand a year after
taxes. But in our family, that strictly a poor relation.
"Oh, you must know I've always liked you Martin," Roderick lied right back. "But
I must say that whatever it is you've been doing lately has changed you somehow.
I can't quite place it, but your just a little ... different! Your clothes don't
seem to fit you anymore, your voice seems higher, your skin paler, and ... you
walk funny. You almost remind me of an old boyfriend of mine. Did I ever tell
you about the fellow who was into dresses?"
I felt myself reddening at his remarks, wondering if he had really guessed
anything. Fortunately, we had reached my Mercedes by that time and I broke the
conversation off quickly and sped home.
There, in the privacy of my luxury town house, I studied myself closely in the
mirror, then I doffed my clothing for a look at how I was progressing.
It was better than I had expected. My skin was smooth, soft, and -- except for a
triangular patch over my male organs -- hairless. My shapely legs and round ass
would have looked great on any girl. But most impressive of all, above my nipped-
in waist, were a pair of full firm breasts that had grown so they were not easy
to hide anymore. Well, I thought, after tonight there would be no need to hide
them at all. And in a month or so, if everything went right, I'd be completely
rid of them and back to being my old 100% male self.
You're probably wondering what all this is about. The fact is that I had been
giving serious thought to the question of my Uncle Hubert's lost bastard child
for over a year. Ever since the old bastard had been diagnosed as terminal he'd
been talking more and more about his lost youth and the mistakes he'd made and
the wrong he'd done.
One thing in particular had seemed to bother him more than most: About twenty
years ago, he'd had a fling with some girl who must have really impressed him.
He had even promised to marry her, or hinted around that he might, anyway.
Whatever the case, when the lady in question got pregnant, he'd dropped her like
a greasy hand grenade, which was why the girl was so ashamed at having been made
such a fool of that she dropped out of college (she'd been in some athletic
program or something) and joined a travelling circus.
Can you imagine anything like that in this day and age? I couldn't either, but
Uncle Hubert had insisted it had happened, and the detectives I'd hired
confirmed it: A girl with the plebeian name of Kitty O'Malley had really dropped
out of an Ivy League school twenty years ago and taken up employment with an
acrobatic troupe passing through the area that summer! And this was none other
than the woman whom Uncle Hubert had seduced and abandoned.
As I said, I had hired detectives to dig all this information out for several
months ago. You see, I could tell by the way Uncle Hubert had been talking about
this things that it was really preying on his mind and it occurred to me that he
would probably be looking to make amends before he died.
I was right. The old reprobate broke down and cried one evening, just after he'd
gone into the hospital, swearing that he'd do anything if only he could make
things up to his poor, poor Kitty. He'd hired some detectives himself by that
time, and it had come as quite a shock to him when they'd reported back that
Kitty had died over fifteen years earlier. But you should have seen his eyes
light up when I reminded him that Kitty had been pregnant, after all, there was
still a very strong possibility that he had a son or a daughter running around
someplace who could be found and provided for!
That's when Uncle Hubert and I finally started to get along.
He was amazed that any of his relatives would be so understanding and self-
sacrificing as to actually try and dig out another relative to share his
billions with. But I put my pious look on my face and told him that I could see
how much it all meant to him, and from that day on, I was put in charge of `The
Search for the Missing Heir/ess.'
Since I was already several months ahead of the detectives he'd hired, it was
fairly easy to put them all on false trails while I sent my own detective on a
short-cut.
Then, when that had just almost found my uncle's lost child, I thanked them,
paid them generously, and told them to forget it, that I would have the second
team of investigators (the ones Uncle Hubert knew about) finish the job.
By now, you're probably wondering about my motives in all this. Well frankly, I
was wondering myself. You see, I knew that there was a lot of money at stake
her. And it seemed to me that whoever found this missing child (actually a young
lady by now, I had discovered) would hold the key to the whole situation; if I
found her, I could always present her to Uncle Hubert and count on being cut in
for a share of his gratitude. If I ever did present her to my uncle, that is! It
had also occurred to me that if I -- and I alone -- knew where she was, it might
be possible to remove forever any proof of her identity and sound my other
relatives out on "How much would they be willing to pay if I could guarantee
that the missing child would never be found?"
So everything I'd done up to a few months ago had been to ensure myself that
I would find Uncle Hubert's daughter long before anyone else could. Then I
could see what the situation looked like and make my plans accordingly. Only
I'd hit a snag.
My detectives had traced Kitty O'Malley's daughter to an outfit called "She
Devil's Travelling All-Female Circus." But there was something funny about this
set-up. It seemed this circus didn't play small towns, shopping centers, or hook
with the big circuses the way other travelling shows did. No, She Devil's troupe
seemed to play exclusively at very posh and private parties for people in the
same income bracket as my Uncle Hubert. And they had their home base on the
estate of a mega-billionaire who made even Uncle Hubert seem like a piker.
During the summer months they would travel the country side like any other
circus outfit, except that they were a little better off than most, and as I
said, they only played at very swanky and very private events.
Well, if there's one thing learned from being rich, it's that rich people don't
waste their time going to the circus. S it was pretty obvious to me that She
Devil's Travelling All-Female Circus must be offering some extra attraction for
the jaded wealthy, and it didn't take me long to discover what that was: SEX!
Through my connections with other wealthy young men of leisure just like myself,
I soon learned that She Devil's Circus specialized in the bizarre. My friend
mentioned bondage displays, exotic sexual freaks, and feats of eroto-acrobatics
that would have amazed the Flying Wallendas.
So this was where my long lost cousin was working.
And this was where I would have to go to find her.
That was where my problem started. Because for my purposes, I would have to not
only find the girl, but find out all I could about her private situation. If
there was any way she could be privately hidden away, spirited off, or just have
the proof of her identity removed, I had to know where it was. And if there
wasn't, I had to know that too, so I could be as delighted as Uncle Hubert over
her discovery. Therefore, I would have to conduct my own private investigation
incognito. It would never do for Uncle Hubert to discover that someone of my
description had been continuing to search around She Devil's Circus long after
he should have found his long-lost daughter and brought her home.
The answer stared me in the face for a long time before I finally admitted it.
The only way that I could effectively disguise myself and do a close
investigation of She Devil's All Girl Travelling Circus was to disguise myself
as a woman! And for s et-up like this, it would have to be not just a disguise,
but almost a complete transformation!
As I say, it took me a long time to admit this to myself; after all, though
not particularly big or masculine-looking, I am completely male and definitely
heterosexual, so the idea of turning myself into a woman -- even temporarily
-- was naturally repugnant to me. But once I decided that this was the only
way to do it, I threw myself into the project with a vengeance. I read
everything I could about transvestism and transsexualism. I discussed things
with well-known female impersonators and transsexuals. I even spoke to doctors
who did the male-to-female operation. And at last I had developed a way to
carry the whole thing off.
Expensive creams and hormones had softened my skin and almost completely
deadened my body hair. Shots had rounded my buttocks and swelled my breasts up
to what would become impressive 38-D dimensions. Corsetting and exercise had
nipped in my waist while another daily regimen had softened the muscles in my
arms and shoulders and shaped up my legs. And hours of constant practice had
finally made me an expert in makeup, hair styling, and feminine deportment. I
could now look and act completely feminine whenever I wanted.
Or almost completely. There was just one detail to take care of: my male organs
.. some detail! But I had at last found a way to get around even that obstacle
without doing myself any permanent harm.
Weeks of nightly soaking in a special astringent lotion had succeeded in
shrinking my cock and balls to about half their normal size. And for an
outrageous fee, an obliging doctor had permanently stitched small loops of
surgical thread into the skin around my genitals. I had been anaesthetized
during this procedure, of course, but the result was that I now had a network
of incredibly strong and tiny loops of thread completely around the area I
wanted to hide.
Now I picked up the device that I had ordered from an expensive special effects
lab in Hollywood: An artificial vagina! It was made of a durable flesh-like
substance and designed to fit comfortably over my real genitals, holding them
back in a small package between my legs. There was even a realistic permanently-
moistened female passageway between the pussy-lips, equipped with a nylon spring
to keep it convincingly tight yet seductively yielding. And the entire thing was
surrounded by dark hair that could be easily and invisibly laced into the loops
at my crotch!
Did I say "easily?" It took me almost an hour of bending forward, trying to see
between my jiggling breasts, to get the thing laced on! But when I had finished
at last and looked at myself in the mirror once more, I felt an enormous glow of
satisfaction. There, reflected back at me, was the perfect image of an
attractive -- even voluptuous -- woman! Her curly dark hair fell neatly to the
nape of her neck in a perfectly feminine style. And framed by this dark hair,
her softly made-up features smiled back at me: Gracefully arched eyebrows over
demure, shadowed brown eyes with long dark lashes, just a hint of blush at the
cheeks, and the skin so soft as to need no foundation. And a perfectly drawn
pair of oh so kissable lips!
Below the neck, the shoulders were smooth and soft like the arms, betraying no
hint of masculinity. At the chest were those firm, lovely breasts for which I
had worked so hard. Below the flat tummy was an inviting triangle of dark pubic
hair with just a hint of pink nether lips behind it. Behind this, I could see
the twin curves of a round, bouncing pink bottom. And beneath my gracefully
swelling hips was a pair of legs that would make any woman envious.
I was ready!
*********
"So you're Mattie Huntington?"
She Devil looked at ne over the strong, bitter tea that we were sharing in her
well-equipped trailer, her green eyes softly glowing. They were fascinating,
those eyes of hers, and as we talked, I felt myself looking into them more and
more deeply.
"That's right," I lied in my soft feminine voice. "I believe you received a
letter about me from my -ah- friend, Martin Howard?"
"Yes, Martin vouched for you alright; he said you're not an undercover policeman
or anything. But I don't actually know Martin. He himself was referred to me by
some long-standing patrons of mine. So your references are good but just
slightly second hand."
"Isn't the money I'm paying you enough to settle any doubts?" I asked. "I mean,
it - it's hard enough for me just getting up the nerve to try this thing without
having to go through this- this ...
"Interrogation?" She Devil smiled. "Relax. Mattie: you're not the first woman
who has offered to pay me to hire her. You'd be surprised how many women have a
latent streak of exhibitionism or submissiveness in them and decide they'd like
to try a few weeks with She Devil's Circus. Your request was a little different
from most, however."
"You mean my stipulation that I shouldn't have to-to...."
"That you didn't want to perform for the customers but just wanted to help out
with the girls backstage," She Devil prompted.
"That's right. In fact, it might be very difficult to arrange. This is a circus,
after all, and part of the system is that every girl must pitch in wherever
she's needed. That's the only way we can get by."
"But-but I'm paying for this!" I insisted. "And I really, really don't want to
have to -- have sex with-with men and things! Isn't it possible for me just to
clean the girls rooms and care for their things? Liked I asked?"
"I'll do what I can," She Devil said evenly, looking deeply into my brown eyes
with her smoldering green ones as she went on in her soft, compelling voice,
"But I want you to prepare yourself mentally for the times when we'll ask you
to do something else for us; to help in some way with the customers. Of
course, we won't force you to do anything against your will, but you may find,
after a little while with us, that you have more potential than you ever
thought. As you relax, you'll find your mind expanding and your horizons
broadening. And although you can refuse anytime you wish, you may simply feel
better by helping out. That will all come later prehaps. Meanwhile, I want you
to remember that this arrangement will continue only for as long as you can
pay for it. Is that clear?"
I shook myself out of the reverie into which I had somehow fallen and nodded.
"Much as I might like you personally," She Devil continued, "and I do find
myself strangely attracted to you, I can only survive as long as this show
prospers. We serve a rich clientele, but that also means that our expenses are
high and our arrangements complicated. I had a girl here, very much like you,
once who could not understand that ours was a business relationship: We provide
our services only as long as you can pay for the. That's all right with you,
isn't it?"
I nodded again, thinking comfortably of how well I had prepared for all this.
Not only had I changed my appearance, but I had also obtained false
identification papers and even set up a well stocked checking account through a
large bank in the name of Mattie Huntington. And in case of emergency, I had all
my real identification, credit cards, and such safely hidden away in the trailer
I had bought to travel in with the circus. I sipped my tea and felt myself
relaxing even more.
"Very good," She Devil smiled. "Now, let's talk Mattie. I want to discuss the
things you'll be wearing and the duties you'll be performing for me and the
other girls. After all, we have to know just what you'lll be doing before we
know what outfits to have made for you. So I want you to relax and tell me all
about your innermost thouhgts and fantasies. And about yourself. Tell me,
Mattie, how old are you?"
We talked for almost two hours about all sorts of things: Did I like my body?
What did I think was my most attractive feature? Howold was I? Where was I
raised? Brothers and sisters? What were my favorite colors? My favorite fabrics?
Did I enjoy the cool swish of silk? Or the warm caress of leather? Both? How
about the comfortable squeeze of tight instep-arching high heels, and the
delightful rythym they impart to a woman's gait? How about the rustle of silken
petticoats or the whisper of black silk stockings? Had I ever felt the erotic
constriction of a corset? The delicate touch of a leather collar?
Had I ever gone swimming in the nude? How did I feel in school when I showered
with the other girls in Gym Class? What would it to be like to be photographed
nude? I was asked to relax and imagine myself in a situation where I was meeting
a few friends for an important luncheon at a fashionable restaurant. I was
elegantly dressed, as I was now, in a heavy white silk blouse, attractive mauve
skirt, expensive silk slip and matching undies, with sheer stockings on my legs,
and fashionable shoes with two inch heels. But as we all sat down, I suddenly
realized that there was a bigger than life size poster on the wall behind me in
which I was completely naked, down on all fours, with a collar around my neck,
being walked down a city street by She Devil who was wearing my clothes.
I blinked, suddenly startled by the bizarre picture She Devil had created, a
little surprised to discover that I was not in that restaurant with all my dream
friends, but still here in She Devil's trailer.
"I'm sorry." I said stupidly. "What was I saying?"
"Oh, nothing," She Devil smiled, rising. "But I have a pretty good idea now how
I'm going to dress you and what you'll be doing!
It's late now, though. Why don't you go back to your trailer and relax while I
mnake some arrangements. Then, tomorrow morning, I'll introduce you to everyone
and you can start your job!"
*********
Starting the next day, and over the next few weeks, I discovered what a bizarre
set-up indeed was She Devil's Travelling All-Girl Circus. And what a strange
cast of characters inhabited it!
There was Ktanka, the Strong lady, for instance, a lovely but muscular Russian
Goddess who towered almost seven feet tall, and whose proud boast was that she
could wrestle anything on earth. I watched her one day, practicing an odd
combination of ballet moves and wrestling maneuvers, amazed by the speed and
agility of her big, smooth legs and the quick strength of her arms, and I began
to believe that she was probably right: She could wrestle anything.
Only I wouldn't have bet on her oppponent!
Then there was Lila, the Tattooed Lady, who bragged that every inch of her skin
was tattooed and charged customers to explore the truth of her claim. I saw her
quite often, showering, sweating in the heat, even rubbing oil over her body to
show everyone that the tottoos were genuine; yet somehow, as I watched her from
day to day, the pattern of colorful pictures seemed to keep changing, so that it
was never the same fromone week to the next.
There was also Lasha, the Whip Woman, a dark-skinned leather- clad girl who was
never without some sort of stinging punishment device hanging from her wrist or
hip. I saw her in competition once and gapsed as she knocked bottles, one at a
time, from a platform ten feet away before a sharpshooter could shatter them
with his target pistol!
And there were a host of others, even stranger: Sally Swinger, the arealist;
Armless Amanda and legless Lilly, twin sisters; helga, the Horse-woman;
Magica, the conjurer; Kathy Clown (whose bag of X-rated tricks seemed as
inexhaustible as it was inventive); The Round-Up Girls, the Rubber Woman ... I
could go on all day!
One of the most interesting for me, though, was a pretty twenty-year-old blonde
who was introduced to me as just Molly. She did an act with two leopards in
which the big cats walked lovingly between her legs, tickled her with their
tales, then gently made love to each other in a variety of human positions at
her command. It seemed as if the animals actually loved their blonde mistress,
an attitude which was shared by the rest of the troupe as well.
Molly's soft, gentle nature was cherished and protected by the other girls in
the troupe -- some of whom, as you may have gathered, were quite hard-boiled --
and next to She Devil, she was teh most popular person in the outfit.
Ah yes, She Devil. Aptly named, that woman. It wasn't that she was overtly evil
or anything; she just had an ineffable sinister quality that I could never quite
place. She told me that she used to do a mind-reading and hypnosis act in night
clubs, and the more I came to know her entrancingly proportioned body and her
captivating green eyes, the easier it was for me to believe it.
And I saw quite a lot of She Devil. Since we were both backstagers, we often had
moments together while the others were working, and gradually these moments
lengthened into hours and then evenings. Somehow, I always felt I could relax
with She Devil.
She would talk to me in her low, melodic voice, rubbing the back of my neck
as I sipped tea in her trailer, and after awhile, I would listen and it would
be me talking. I only knew that when I left her trailer, I always felt
pleasantly refreshed, as if I had been able to out down some terrible load
for a little while.
Just when we became lovers I could not say. It just seemed that one night I
opened my eyes and found myself crouched nude between her legs, tonguing
passionately between her pussy lips, feeling the soft caress of her bare thighs
on my ears. I had never done this to a woman before, but I suddenly found myself
hungry for this exotic creature, physically aroused in a way I had never felt
before! My nipples were erect and tingling, and between my legs, my captive
cock, imprisoned behind the false pudenda, ached warmly as it struggled to
expand in the small space ... in vain! But the pressure on my balls as my
swelling organ pushed at them was somehow more pleasant than painful.
After that night, it seemed I just couldn't get enough of She Devil. Every
chance I could, I would wait on her, attend her in the bath, run little errands
for her, or lovingly hand wash her stockings and lingerie for her. I ignored the
comments from the other girls that She Devil was incurably fickle, and devoted
as much time and attention as I possibly could to this fascinating lesbian! And,
oddly enough, it seemed that, though still very much a male underneath, I was
coming to think of myself more and more as ... lesbian. I lusted after She
Devil, it's true; What guy wouldn't be turned on by her full, firm breasts, her
shapely legs, and the silken texture of her tawny skin. Beneath that false pussy
I wore, my cock stiffened every time she walked into a room! But somehow, I also
felt a stiffening in my nipples, a warm, moist tingle in my crotch, and
sometimes my mouth would actually salivate with hunger to get between her
thighs, like some kind of conditioned reflex! At those moments, I almost forgot
about my real identity, even forgot that I was really male, and responded to She
Devil's charms in a distinctly feminine way. Soon, in fact, whenever she entered
a room I would feel my knees flex automatically. Everyone assumed I was
curtseying to her, but actually it was a reflex action caused by my conditioned
response to go down on her, until I realized that we were in public.
But here I've been going on about She Devil and haven't gotten around to telling
you how she dressed me or some of the things I had to do around the circus for
the other girls -- and with them!
And there was also my gradual discovery of my uncle's missing daughter, and how
I uncovered proof of her identity at last... and what happened when I did!
End of Part 1
Stay tuned kiddies.
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