## Archive-name: mistress_ishtar

From: zakueins@aol.com (ZakuEins)

Subject: [NEW]Mistress Ishtar(1/?, Femdom, ForcedFem, BD, ff)

Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories

This is my first time writing here, so be easy on me. I'm new at this. This story involves scenes of bondage, forced feminzaion, and all the things Mother Told You Not To Do. Those of you under 18, don't read this. Let your own imaginations warp you before I even get to you.

Comments, commentary, complaints, etc, can all be sent to me. I'll respond to compliments, commentary I'll enjoy, death threats will result in a colony drop, marrage proposals will require a few days to analize, and proposals to acually DO this to me will be read carefully, then discussed in detail.

ZakuEins@AOL.Com

Part 1-"And So My Troubles Began"

It had been about three months since I was brought here.

This was a guess, of course. I KNEW, for certian, that I was here for six weeks. The limestone walls took the improvised scraping tool I made just well enought to scribe lines in the wall. The lines were showing 42 days, and the sun was setting on another day. 43 days here.

The rest was guess work. I found needle tracks all over my body, evidence that someone had professionally inserted IVs into me. One of my girlfriends was diabetic, and she told me everything about insulin injections, and my memory dredged up that memory of how long a certain location could take needles before switching. My arms and legs were covered with tracks, but not my thighs or armpits. I was here for a month and a half, a month and a half that I was aware of only in pain and the odd floating feeling of tranquilizers.

For six weeks, I had gotten used to three facts.

The first one was that, to the outside world, I was dead. They told me, though my door, that my previous life was dead-I had no real family, and my life was gone when they faked a head-on car crash that caused both cars to burst into flames. They had swapped my dental records with the dead man's body, so I was pronounced dead.

The second was that I was here because Ishtar-no, I should say it right, if only for posterity- Her Goddess' Mistress, The Lady Ishtar; had read an article I had written in the college newspaper. She liked it so much, they said, that they had "recruited" me.

And the third part was the 36DD breasts hanging from the front of my chest.

And the firm, yet full ass that peeked out from my behind.

And the fact that, except for my eyebrows, eyelashes, and the hair on my head, I was as smooth as a newborn baby.

All of this pailed, however, in comparison to the always wet, seemingly sopping cunt that dripped between my well-turned legs.

It had been fifty-eight recorded days, God-knows how long really, before I was told that Her Goddess' Mistress, The Lady Ishtar, was granting me, Her Lowly Slut, a audience. In my prison cell. I was told how to deport myself, and how to speak to her, not to look at her directly, how to follow every order she gave. And to get cleaned up.

Cleaning up was easy. They had left me, in my cell, a comb, a brush, soap, and shampoo. Towels as well. I took a shower, combed and brushed my hair, and put on my clothing....

No, it wasn't "clothing", it was the barest minimum to avoid being naked. A simple nylon codpiece with a plastic core with what could only be a dildio, that fit over my hips. A demi-bra that only held up my considerable assets. A hair ribbon for my already uncontrollable reddish brown hair. And that was it.

Three knocks on my door, then the voice said, "Remember, Slut, you turn to face the window until The Lady Ishtar tells you to turn around. I won' t have you disappoint me!

"I hope not," I said, my voice putting it in a low-enough venom, but still sounding like a playful come-on. The voice of a temptress, I had been told, I was given.

"Good," the voice ended, and I turned to face the window. The door opened, then it closed. "Turn around," a female voice, curious and soft, replied.

I turned around on my knees, looking at The Lady Ishtar's boots. They were leather opera pumps with heels that seemed to go forever and ever. "I am The Lady Ishtar. And you must be the Slut?"

"I am, Your Holiness," I replied, carefully allowing myself the privelage of looking up slightly. She had VERY long legs.

"Good," The Lady Ishtar replied. Then her tone suddenly became casual, friendly. "Your head must have been filled with many things-how to act, how to kneel, how to sit before me. Don't think about that now. For now, and if you are lucky, the future, simple casualness with suffice. I am Ishtar, you are the Slut. I won't call you by your previous name, after all," she laughed, tossling some of my hair, "with your body, that name hardly fits!"

There was a sound of something sliding across the floor, then a soft creak. "You may look at me now, Slut," The Lady Ishtar said.

I looked up, and saw what could only be the most beautiful woman I had ever seen in my entire life. She was about my new height(I assumed about 5' 9"), and was just plumped out enough to have mass to her bones. No beanpole here! Her breasts were just as large as mine, amply emphasized by the black demibra and overalls she wore. Under the overalls was a green satin blouse that extended to her elbows. Her hip-length, fire-red hair was tied in a French braid, tossed almost casually over her right shoulder. She had the face of an angel, with a brilliant white smile. "I take it, you like what you see?" Ishtar said, smiling.

"Yes, I do, Your Holiness...." I was about to go through the entire devotional until she put the buisness end of a rhino-hide whip under my chin. "I said, this is informal. Sit more comfortably, and we shall talk," Ishtar replied, then let the whip fall.

I moved to sit Indian-style rather than with my legs under my body, and got as comfortable as one could on limestone. "Let us start," Ishtar said, "First of all, there is your recruitment."

"My abduction, ma'am," I replied.

She looked, and her face softened. "For now, to you, it is an abduction. But you will understand, later, what this means for you. You wrote a story, an editorial, as a matter of fact, about the Women's Movement. You're words, I belived, was that you felt it was taken over by lesbians and controlled by women who felt that men should be exterminated like rats."

"I have never regreted those words," I said. "No matter where they lead me."

"Eh?" Her face became bemused, for a moment. Then she smiled. "No, this isn't you're punishment for telling lesbians off. In fact, I praise you! You have guts, pluck, and a eye for the truth. That, I can respect. And, besides," she giggled, "you're right. The Feminist movement has been taken over by Feminazis, as Rush Limbaugh will call it. They want to kill men off. I don't. Like it or not, they're here."

"So, why am I here?" I asked.

"Because of all your traits. You're smart, sensitive, and a sense of timing that's hard to miss. A lovely man, to say the least. I would have loved to have you, but I couldn't. Even as a friend, your cock would have gotten in the way. You would have wanted to fuck me one day, no matter how hard you tried to not think about it, and you would have succeeded, I assure you! So, I made you into something that we can both enjoy," Ishtar said.

"You turned me into a woman! Without my permission, without asking my wishes!"

"I've known you, Slut. I stuided your records, in great detail. You were never really a man. Not by the standards of society. No wonder women hated you. You were one of them, and they feared something like that. I wanted you, and if I couldn't have you as a man, I would have you as a Emulator," Ishtar replied, shaking her head.

"Huh?" I asked, curious.

"I'm very, very rich. So much so, that I can sponsor all sorts of engineering and chemestry projects. I had you sculpted in flesh, using techniques that my company has developed. You were made, Slut, into the woman you always wanted to be. With a few small modifications, of course. I had given you a voice that is seductive and as smooth as slik. With the proper treatments, you'll live for centuries-and never lose that perfect face. You're a woman in all respects of the word, Slut.
You can even bear children, and even choose the sex," Ishtar said.

"I made you for two reasons. The first was for me-I wanted your mind so much. The second was to save the world. Male rulership has lasted too long-but matriarchy is impractical either. So that's what you're for. As an Emulator, you have lived as a man, but are now a woman, for the rest of your days. You know, and have been a part of, both sides of the sexual equasion."

"So, you want to emulate Engles and bring back a matriarchy, but a matriarcy of sex-changed women," I said, sneering.

"No," Ishtar said, "I want Emulators. Men who were once women and women who were once men. My name is that, Slut. You know what it is."

"Ishtar," I said, "is the Babylonian goddess of Love and War. So, you want a war, and you want to turn humans into Emulators."

"I want to turn those who should rule into Emulators-that is my war. And I shall give all the love I can to my soldiers. My Slut, you shall know that love," Ishtar said. "You will know just how loving I can be."

I don't know what happened, really. One of my teachers said I took "easy offense agianst rightiousness." And she was here, preaching a gospel that sounded like geocide.

So I slapped her.

Hard, with just enough english to leave a killer welt on the side of her face. By the time I realized what I had done, it was too late. I had heard, from my mysterious keepers, that Ishtar had once ordered a disobedient Slut's veins opened and the blood to just drain from her body.

But, as she turned her face around, the angry grimace turned into a smile.
Then she laughed, a loud, racotious rumble that filled the room. "Perfect! You're still fighting! You still have spirit! You'll be *perfect*. Good day, Slut, and we shall meet again," Ishtar said, smiling. Then she walked out, still smiling with a swagger in her step.

It was the next morning, when I woke up from what could only be a drug-induced sleep with my arms and legs tightly chained to the floor, with my ass on fire. Two IV's were in my arms-intravenous feeding. I turned my head, to see a large-type note on my side.

"Slut,

"Don't take this personally, but I started on stretching your anus. Normally, I'd go for the larger sizes, but I'm starting out small. For your sake. In a few weeks, I'll even add a vibrator, to just make your life more pleasant. By the end of three months, you'll be in perfect shape to start your REAL training.

"-Ishtar"

I let my head loll to look at the celing. The Universe, I thought, really decided to have it in for me.

Last modified (12/24/96 14:11:50) by Eli-the-Bearded.

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