Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
From: an225040@anon.penet.fi (marlissa)
Date: Wed,  2 Aug 1995 11:51:24 UTC
Subject: REPOST After School Special 0/7 (tg, nc, bd, teen)

After School Special/comments

by Marlissa

The following seven part story contains adult material.  If below
the age of 18, go outside, get some fresh air and do something
healthy (g).

If you ARE 18, then  you should know the following story is
about a young man and teenaged boy who are forcibly
feminized and transformed into teenage girl sex slaves by a
mysterious married couple through chemical and pyschological
techniques.  It contains non-consensual sex and b&d themes. 
Both the characters and occurences in this series are completely
fictitious.


Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
From: an225040@anon.penet.fi (marlissa)
Date: Wed,  2 Aug 1995 12:00:46 UTC
Subject: REPOST After School Special 1/7 (tg, nc, bd, teen)

The following story contains adult material.  If below the age of
18, go outside, get some fresh air and do something healthy (g).

If you ARE 18, then  you should know the following story
contains TG-oriented non-consensual sex and b&d themes,
involving a teen-aged character.  Both the characters and
occurences in this series are completely fictitious.

After School Special/Part One

by Marlissa

There she was.  "Come in Brenda!" Glen Simmons absently
shouted. 

Brenda Porter, the freshman girl who had freaked out at her bus
stop shyly entered the room.  Glen wondered why he didn't
remember her from the junior high school, then remembered this
was the transfer student who had just started at Bentson High. 
He pointed to the seat which she took, careful to keep the hem
of her red spandex miniskirt under her thighs.

She was a pretty ponytailed brunette, about 5' 4", with coltish
slim hips and a small bust, which she accentuated with a
midriff-baring sleeveless navy knit top.  She wore saucy little
three inch red heels and precious white socks with elaborate
lace trimmings, and her legs were smooth and shiny.  Brenda
was just starting to blossom into full-fledged femininity, with a
bright pouty red lipsticked mouth,  mascara'ed hazel eyes with
thin plucked brows and lightly highlighted cheeks.  Cute face
too-- delicate bone structure with a longish look and a short
pointy chin and a pair of dimples to die for.  A typical fourteen
year old girl even down to the braces which she revealed as she
gave him a respectful smile.  

Well, maybe not so typical.  She reminded him of someone but
he couldn't think who at the moment.  And she did dress a little
provocatively for fourteen-- a veritable Lolita in that form-fitting
top and tight spandex mini.  But Glen had to be honest-- he
hadn't the slightest idea of what teen fashion held sway at
present.  Maybe this was considered "in."  

"Mr. Skinner mentioned that something happened this morning. 
Something that upset you.  Want to talk about it?"

The smile ran away from her face in an instant.  "Uh, I don't
know what you mean, sir."  She twirled a long lock of her
ponytail nervously, eyelashes batting rapidly.

"Well, I understand Tommy Jacobs was teasing you.  Why don't
you tell me the rest."  He nodded, inviting her to do so at once.

The teen kept her big hazel eyes locked on her shoes.  "Uh, we
were in the bus line and Tommy was behind me and he snapped
my bra strap."

Glen nodded, noting this with gravity on his legal pad.  Inside
he wanted to laugh.  The kid had gone hysterical because a boy
had snapped her bra!  "And that was it?"

She shuffled her pumps.  "No.  He said I had nice little boobies
and he wanted to touch them."  She was angry and her lips were
pursed tight over her braces.  When her lips parted again, Glen
could see the pink lipstick traces on the steel fittings.

Glen considered quickly.  He had to be gentle but he also knew
Old Man Skinner would go ballistic if Brenda kept having
screaming fits whenever some boy snapped her bra.  He couldn't
help but notice she did have a nice, if petite figure for a fourteen
year old.  If he were fourteen, he might have snapped her bra--
if he hadn't noticed something OFF about her.  He couldn't put
his finger on it, but there was something strange about the girl.

"You know Brenda, boys at this age often do these kinds of
things to show a girl he likes her."  

Glen noticed the girl blush.  As if this comment reminded her of
something she ought to do, Brenda daintily crossed her smooth
legs, her small hands with their red polished nails smoothing
down the miniskirt hem as she did. He continued quickly.  

"Tommy was just flirting with you.  He probably likes you. 
Pretty girls get teased that way a lot and unfortunately they just
have to get used to all kinds of attention from boys."

The little brunette looked dully out the window.  "That's what
Daddy says.  Just what Daddy says."  Glen thought he detected
a hint of bitterness in the soft voice.

"Well, he's right.  I'm sure your mother tells you the same thing
too--doesn't she?"

The student nodded reluctantly.  "Do you think I'm a pretty girl,
Mr. Simmons?" she asked plaintively.

"Yes I do, Brenda."  Has she got a crush on me?... but no-- the
compliment caused her to frown worriedly.  Glen pressed on. 
"And isn't it nice to think a boy your own age thinks so too and
that he likes you?  Maybe you and Tommy could be boyfriend
and girlfriend before too long.  You're at the age when I bet you
think about those things."

Brenda's jaw dropped, eyes wide.

Good, I  must be right since she looks surprised, he thought. He
plowed on in a similar vein, eager to finish this little interview
up.  He had paperwork to get to.  "Sure, I bet you think about
boys a lot-- maybe even daydream about the cute ones.  It's
natural for you to be a little boy-crazy, Brenda.  You shouldn't
be ashamed of your new feelings.  Hey, I know who you look
like now.  I've been trying to think of it an it just came to me--
you look like that girl on Beverly Hills 90210, uh, Brenda. 
Anyone ever tell you that?"

And then Glen knew he wouldn't be getting to his paperwork,
because Brenda Porter broke in a deep sobbing fit.  Instantly he
was on his feet handing her some kleenex.  Trying to comfort
her he put his hands on her thin shoulders.  "It's o.k.--"

"Don't touch me, please!" she shrieked.

His hands flew off her shoulders in a second.  "Brenda, relax! 
I'm just trying to help!  Obviously I'll have to call your parents
at once.  You're in no state to return to class."

She looked up terrified.  "No Mr. Simmons!  Please don't call
my parents!  I'm o.k.!  See? I'm all set!"  The theatrical grin on
her tear stained face was offered as proof.

He picked up the phone as she rattled off assurances she was
indeed o.k.  "I just got silly because of what Tommy did, Mr.
Simmons.  Really!  I'm o.k.  I guess you're right about those
things you said about girls at my age going boy-crazy.  I, uh, do
like Tommy and I got all weird inside.  But please don't call my
parents!  I'm enough trouble for them already!  I'll be punished
if you call them!"  Her eyes pleaded with him not to make the
call.

He put the phone down and Brenda relaxed.  "O.k. Brenda--
you can go back to class.  If you have anything else you want to
talk about, come see me anytime-- I'll arrange a hall pass for
you, o.k."

She smiled sweetly, brushing the last of the tears way.    "Thank
you Mr. Simmons.  I won't be bothering you any more."  She
picked up her books and minced shyly from the office.  

Glen immediately reached for Brenda's file.  Something was
wrong-- he could sense it.  At twenty he wasn't so far away in
age from these kids so as not to be able to understand them. 
Old Man Skinner, the principal, had hired him out of
community college only after he had received a copy of his
degree in education-- he hadn't believed Glen was old enough to
have been to college.  And his looks didn't help either-- his
bright blonde hair, too-pale beardless complexion, his short
height.  Maybe that's why he had always wanted to work as a
guidance counselor-- at heart he felt more comfortable with the
kids than the adult world.  Only with kids did he feel like he
commanded respect.  And he knew teens well enough to know
Brenda's behavior was just wrong.

He flipped through the courses chosen.  Home Economics (an
A), Gym Class (an A-), then all Cs and Ds in her required
academic courses, all of which were general.  That indicated
Brenda wasn't taking college prep course.  Not a future Rocket
Scientist of America, he chuckled. Then he glanced in surprise
at the IQ score-- 135!  Not a genius but she ought to be taking
college prep for now.  He  took another look at the coursework.  
It was annotated "General classes at request of parents."  He
found the parents' names.  Maybe if he could talk to them,
convince them Brenda needed to take harder courses and really
apply herself.  They're probably not too bright themselves.

Wrong again.  "Mr. Rick Mason, attorney at law and Dr. Lesley
Mason, plastic surgeon."  These were Brenda the Ditz'es
parents?  They had requested non-college courses for their
daughter?  It didn't make sense.  He needed more information. 
He dialed up the number listed as the last school attended and
was connected to a Deanna Hill, his counterpart at the Jasper
Ohio Junior High School guidance office.

"Yes I remember Brenda.  Cute girl, real quiet. Is there a
problem?" the older lady inquired helpfully.

Glen didn't know what to say.  Even inferring there might be
would be against the rules.  And if it got back to the parents, he
might be held liable for slander.  "Not really.  I just want to help
her adjust to our school and I thought you might have some
insights," he explained.

"Well, she was only here for a year.  A good kid basically.  She
never was very social-- no friends I can recall.  She wasn't an
academic star-- never did her homework and never studied for
tests.  She seemed embarrassed about it but never did anything
to improve.  Just had a 'I'm just an airhead and I can't help it'
attitude-- not that she ever brought a book home.  Not that her
parents cared.  They attended one teacher-parent conference and
said if Brenda could learn to cook, clean and sew plus keep
herself in shape, then they were happy.  God damn," the woman
exclaimed, "it was as if all they wanted for Brenda was to be
some bimbo housewife!  And her mother is a doctor for God's
sakes!"

Glen hesitated then plunged in. "How did Brenda get along with
boys?"

A pause.  "You know, it was funny.  She seemed completely
preoccupied with her appearance, like being pretty was
everything.  I thought she dressed, well-- a bit old for her age. 
You know-- one of those girls who really gets into makeup and
clothing.  And yet she hated it when boys touched her even
innocently.  Never had a boyfriend either.  At one point, I
suspected sexual abuse-- you know that's not natural for a girl to
be so skittish."

"What happened?" Glen pressed.

A disgusted laugh.  "They moved before I had a chance to do
anything.  That's why I'm glad you called.  Tell me what high
school you're at so we can pursue legal--"

Glen hung the phone up.   Skinner was such a conservative that
he'd flip if Glen brought in some out-of-town know-it-all. 
Bentson was a small town with a small town mentality.  If Glen
thought Brenda was being sexually abused, he'd have to dig up
more than he had.  He searched through the files but the only
other information was the listing for the school Brenda attended
preceding Jasper Junior High.  He dialed the number for the
Central Massachusetts State School and got the records office.

"I need the records for a student, please."

"Social security number?" a gruff male voice demanded rudely. 

"034-99-6669."

"That D. Porter?"  The voice didn't sound like a guidance
counselor in a school system to Glen.

"Yes.  Can you tell me something about--"

"Look Mac, hundreds come in and go out as fast as I can book
'em here in Records.  I don't no particulars, o.k.?"

"Fine, just fax it over o.k.?"  He gave him the number, got a
brusque 'yeah' and the promise it would be there by end of day.


Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
From: an225040@anon.penet.fi (marlissa)
Date: Wed,  2 Aug 1995 12:00:41 UTC
Subject: REPOST After School Special 2/7 (tg, nc, bd, teen)

The following story contains adult material.  If below the age of
18, go outside, get some fresh air and do something healthy (g).

If you ARE 18, then  you should know the following story
contains TG-oriented non-consensual sex and b&d themes,
involving a teen-aged character.  Both the characters and
occurences in this series are completely fictitious.

After School Special/Part Two

by Marlissa

That has to be it for my Sam Spade routine for a while, Glen
thought.  He put the file in his brief case, soon forgetting about
Brenda Porter.  For the rest of the morning he buried himself in
evaluation forms and talking to college admissions offices as he
requested information for next year's seniors.  At noon, he heard
the cries from the kid's recess.  With an effort he freed himself
from his paperwork and looked out the window. 

The day's weather had turned out well and a beaming May sun
was streaming in.  He looked across the school grounds at the
various kids-- the girls gossiping in groups, the boys tossing a
baseball, and then... Brenda.  She was leaning against the main
building wall, reading the latest issue of Seventeen.  She
seemed so intent on her magazine she couldn't see Tommy 
Jacobs sneaking up behind her.  Glen could see on Tommy's
face there was going to be trouble and with what he guessed
about the girl, he knew that one of Tommy's pranks was the last
thing needed.  He sprang to his feet.

He had just swung open the door when he and the entire
freshman class of Benston High saw Tommy pluck up the hem
of Brenda's red hip hugging spandex miniskirt to reveal what
was underneath--  a pair of red cotton French-cut bikini panties
that clung high on her slim hips.  The kids filled the schoolyard
with laughter as Tommy triumphantly cried "I knew it, I knew
it!  Brenda wears slut red panties!  Hahahahahahah!"  

He ran to Tommy, pushing him away and trying to obscure the
view of the kids.  The eighty or so kids in the yard roared with
the laughter, boys looking over and around Glen to get a peek at
Brenda's underclothes.  I turned back to her and she was
hysterical, struggling to yank her skirt down, but Tommy was
holding it up, not allowing her to.  Brenda flayed at him
weakly, her arms flying to cover her pantied crotch.

"Tommy Jacobs, leave Brenda alone--now, mister!  Or it's
Detention Hall!"

The boy gave me a lame look and let go of the skirt.  As he did,
his eyes caught a flash of Brenda's now-infamous panties. 
Tommy, unwilling to risk further trouble had walked off and the
kids had turned away as well, not interested in being implicated. 
So Glen was the only one who saw the bright reflection of sun
on what looked like metal.  The glint had come from where
Brenda's panties disappeared between her legs, as if from some
metallic surface underneath the skimpy undergarment.  He
looked quickly away.  As he did, he thought he caught Brenda
slipping a finger under the panty crotch and pull it over the
metal.

"Brenda, go inside and pull yourself together. I'll speak to
Tommy."

Brenda looked at me, face beet red and thoroughly humiliated. 
"I didn't do anything, Mr. Simmons!  He kept bothering me,
asking me what color panties I was wearing!  When I told him
to leave me alone, he called me a tease and he did this!"  She
was shaking.

"Go on in, Brenda.  And I think I better give you a ride home
tonight after school, all right?  Riding the bus with Tommy is
asking for trouble."

She nodded and trotted off to the Girl's Room to compose
herself.  As she did, Glen watched what had probably started the
trouble.  Brenda's spandex skirt was so tight, that her panty line
underneath was as clear as day.  As she swiveled her slim hips,
it must have seemed to Tommy that yes, she was being a tease. 
"Good" girls just didn't sashayed around that way.  Glen sighed
and took Tommy to Skinner's office for a "discussion."

An hour later, Glen returned to his office.  On a hunch he called
the Nurse's office.  "Has Brenda Porter had any surgery that you
know of?"

No, not that she knew of, the nurse answered as she consulted
her records.  Any corrective surgery she'd need a metal brace
for?  Was there any mention of hip problems?  No, none of that. 
Last time she'd been seen by the nurse?

"Haven't seen her actually.  The day we did Physicals, she was
out.  Then she came in with a note from her mother giving her a
clean bill of health.  I wouldn't worry about Brenda's health at
all, Mr. Simmons.  You see her mother is a doctor."

He hung the phone up.  Glen knew it was wrong to be so
beguiled by the mystery of what was under Brenda's panties.  It
was pretty indecent actually.  But even though the girl was
undeniably sexy in a fresh way, he told himself he was only
interested in the answer as it fit with the rest of the pieces.  And
yet even as he tried to distract himself with his mounds of
paperwork, his mind kept returning to the sight of that pantied
midsection, so taut and trim under that panty.  the panties were
cut so sheerly they practically disappeared up the girl's privates
giving him the impression that the girl either hadn't grown much
pubic hair or that she kept it closely shaved.  Or entirely shaved. 
But that was crazy!  A fourteen year old girl shaving her sex? 
He wondered how wild Miss Brenda Porter was and what
exactly she did after school.  He stopped.  There had been a
small bulge under there.  Yes, now that he thought about it,
there had definitely been a  mound.  All this daydreaming had
brought it back.

He had only begun to ponder what the metal item was that
perhaps caused the mound when he remembered to check the
fax machine.  There it was, waiting for him at three-thirty on the
dot.  He took the fax to his desk and began to read.  It seemed
the Central Massachusetts State School wasn't your run-of-the-
mill junior high.  It was a reformatory.  And a mistake had
obviously been made in the records.  The "D. Porter" listed was
a twelve year old boy!  He had the phone in hand to call the
Records Department to ask make another request for the proper
file when he saw the grainy head shot.  He looked at the fax
closely.  The photo was that of a twelve year old boy, Danny
Belmont.  The familiar hazel eyes, the black hair, the pointy
chin-- it was as if Brenda had a brother!  No dimples or Adam's
Apple, and Danny's lips were thinner than Brenda's, but other
than that they might have been siblings.  Weird.

He looked at the notes in the file.  "Danny's birth parents
unknown.  Brought up in a number of foster homes.  Caught
shoplifting at eleven and remanded to the Central State School
for correction.  Placed for adoption by state to Mr. and Dr.
Mason at age eleven and a half."  So Brenda had a brother?  But
the other information was identical. Danny Belmont's Social
Security number was 034-99-6669.  And so was Brenda
Belmont.

Glen heard the knock on the door.  It was Brenda, here for her
ride home.  Glen gathered up Brenda's file and the fax and
threw it in his briefcase.  "Ready?"

Brenda nodded, her ponytail bouncing.  "Yes, thank you Mr.
Simmons."

"Say Brenda, can I reach your parents at this hour?  I'd like to
see them after I drop you off-- about, uh, what a good job
you're doing in Home Ec and Gym class."

Her hazel eyes widened in fear then glee as he added the
reason.  "Oh would you, Mr. Simmons?  It means so much to
them that I do well in those classes.  They would be so pleased
with me!"

"Well, fine.  I'll be happy to do that.  Just tell me where I might
find them. At their offices?"

Brenda thought a minute then shook her head doubtfully.  "Oh
no sir.  They're always home when I get off the bus.  They're
always there after school."

And so they were.  Glen could see the matching black and silver
BMW convertibles there at the head of the long drive, even as
he pulled in with his old Pontiac Firebird.  The house was
practically an estate, easily two hundred yards off the road,
hidden behind huge, immaculate hedges and a mason wall.  It
stared down at him imposingly, three stories of white Victorian
excess of cupolas, verandahs, and French windows.  A
gorgeous house, certainly in the million dollar range.  He
looked at Brenda again, silently contemplating some inner
concern in her trampy little minishirt.  "General classes at
request of parents."  Even if Brenda was adopted like her
brother, why would the new parents who lived in such affluence
restrict her to go-nowhere courses?  Why would they place such
a premium on Home Ec and Gym class?  Why would they
allow her to leave the house dressed this way every day?



Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
From: an225040@anon.penet.fi (marlissa)
Date: Wed,  2 Aug 1995 11:48:12 UTC
Subject: REPOST After School Special 3/7 (tg, nc, bd, teen)

The following story contains adult material.  If below the age of
18, go outside, get some fresh air and do something healthy (g).

If you ARE 18, then  you should know the following story
contains TG-oriented non-consensual sex and b&d themes,
involving a teen-aged character.  Both the characters and
occurences in this series are completely fictitious.

After School Special/Part Three

by Marlissa

A tall, youngish man of thirty-eight or so opened the front door,
eyeing him suspiciously.  Brenda looked up, biting her lower
lip.  "Daddy," she explained as they got out of the car.  "You'll
tell him I'm doing well in Home Ec and Gym?"

Glen nodded and extended his hand.  "Mr. Mason, I'm Glen
Simmons, the Guidance Counselor at Bentson High School."

The man's mien softened.  He reminded Glen of a tv lawyer--
slightly graying hair, strong, conservative presence and a self-
confidence that bordered on arrogance.  "Nice to meet you.  To
be honest, I thought my Brenda was getting a ride home from a
high school boy.  No offense intended," he added humorously.

Glen blushed.  "None taken.  I offered to give your daughter a
ride home because of something that happened at school today--
"

"Has she gotten herself into some mischief, Glen?"  He looked
critically at Brenda, who looked at Glen with hurt betrayal.

"No-- she hasn't done anything Mr. Mason.  It was just a
schoolyard prank really.  Actually if your wife is home, I'd like
to ask you some questions."

The attorney masterfully waved off the request.  "Come in the
house first and let's get this cleared up.  Brenda, come here
girl."

Brenda, standing frightened between the two, obeyed and with
eyes downcast and by the older man's side, walked with them
into the house.  Inside a tall striking redhead of thirty-five was
pulling off a lab coat.  Glen thought she looked like a younger
Sigourney Weaver, with a hard edged, no-nonsense way about
her.  She was introduced as Mrs. Mason.  It nettled Glen who
liked first names not to be granted the courtesy of calling these
people by their first names even as they called him Glen.  They
had a way, Glen could tell right off of making one seem
inferior.  Probably got that from giving orders to everyone all
day long.

The four were in the living room, the Masons and Glen sitting
and Brenda standing.  Mr. Mason demanded to know what had
happened in the schoolyard and as Glen explained what had
happened, Brenda cringed.  After hearing the whole story,
Mason turned his cold blue eyes on the teen.

"So, you're teasing boys again, that it?"

Brenda shook her head, the ponytail dancing in the air. "No,
Daddy!  I swear!"

The parents exchanged smug looks.  "Obviously Brenda needs
to be taught another in a long unbroken string of lessons, Rick. 
Will you do the honors or shall I?"

The husband pointed to his chest.  "You handled her last time.  I
better take care of it this time.  We switch off so she doesn't
think she can get away with anything," he explained to Glen. 
He stood up and took off his expensive suit jacket.  With
deliberate slowness, he unbuckled his belt and pulled it off. 
Glen watched in growing unease till he understood that Brenda
was about to be strapped with a belt for doing no more than
being a pretty girl!

"Please, it wasn't her fault!  She doesn't deserve to be punished!"
he pleaded.

The man smiled cruelly.  "But you said it wasn't really the boy's
fault either.  Well, you don't know Brenda.  She needs this," he
slapped the belt hard against his open palm," to remind her to
behave herself like a proper young lady.  And no more
interruptions Glen.  When I've finished with this, we can discuss
why you're here, but not before."

Glen stood up.  "Perhaps I should leave."

"Whatever for?" Mrs. Mason asked fliply.  "Brenda is punished
all the time.  Just wait five minutes.  That's all it takes."

Glen sat down, mesmerized as the girl, in resignation, draped
herself over the man's knees.  As if part of a regular ritual, she
herself yanked up the miniskirt, revealing the incriminating
panties that had caused all the trouble.  Mason's fingers were on
the elastic band of the panties and was ready to pull them down,
then looked at Glen and left them up.  Glen looked for a tell-tale
glint of metal, but Brenda had either covered it up or it had
never been there.  Of the slight bulge, Glen could see nothing
from where he was sitting.

He watched with macabre fascination as the leather belt was
raised high over the small, shapely pantied rear and fell with a
harsh crack.  Brenda's eyes were closed, but she obediently
counted out each and every stroke.  On the second stroke, she
broke into tears, but even then, she continued to announce each
stroke as it crashed into her backside.   From the corner of his
eye, Glen noted that Lesley had unconsciously let her hand drift
down to the lap of her pants.  Then, aware of it, pulled it back
stealthily.

At last, Brenda was allowed to rise.  She was told to go to her
room as the adults had a talk.  All three adults watched the
fourteen year old prance painfully out of the room, the slim hips
forced to swivel in an exaggerated way so as to avoid feeling
more pain.

"Little slut," Mason whispered as his eyes followed the
spandexed teen ass wriggle out of the room.

"Yes, little whore," agreed the doctor wife in a cold, reptilian
way.  Glen shivered.

 Mason looked up at Glen, completely professional.  "Now,
what do you have to tell us about Brenda?"

"Well, did you adopt Brenda?" he asked.

The two nodded.  "Yes, when she was eleven or so.  I took care
of the legalities," answered the lawyer affably.

"And did  she have a brother named Danny?" Glen pushed.

The redhead rose.  "Drink for you Glen?" she asked suddenly.

He looked uncertainly at the two of them.  Mason answered for
him.  "Yes, Lesley, great idea.  Get us all some lemonade-- all
right for you Glen?"

He nodded.  As the tall redhead left the room, there was a
moment when he thought their eyes met again in some secret
amusement.

"You're about what, 5' 4" Glen?"

He nodded, embarrassed about where this was going.

"Young too, huh?  What are you, eighteen?"

"Twenty, Mr. Mason."

He gave him a comical look, as if to ask who could believe that. 
"I thought you were sixteen when I first saw you.  I'd say
definitely sixteen.  What do you say, Lesley?  Doesn't Glen
look as if he's about sixteen?"

She smiled with icy concurrence.  "Oh yes, he's got the small
framed body of a sixteen year old at most.  My apologies, Glen-
- my clinical opinion, that's all."  She handed him a glass of
lemonade.  "Here you go."

He took it and put it down.  "Thank you.  Now about this
Danny Belmont."

Mason looked at him offended.  "Please, your drink first.  Then
we'll tell you all you want to know about Danny and Brenda
and the way things are in our household.  But please, don't be
rude-- it's hot out today.  Enjoy your lemonade!"

Glen surrendered, picking up the full glass.  The two Masons
watched as he drained it, leaving their own drinks alone.  He
smiled.  "Very good!  What do you make it with?"

Dr. Mason's mouth opened wide in laughter.  "Thioridizine
hydrochloride.  Also known as mellaril."

Glen felt woozy.  "W-what does that do?" he asked as he
slumped forward.

The husband and wife laughed.  "Oh, you'll find out darling--
you'll find out very soon," the woman doctor promised.

************

The next day Glen woke to the color white.  All around him,
just clean, antiseptic white.  Hospital white.  He tried to move
but he was in a body cast.  IVs dripped liquid nourishment into
his system and he felt totally numb.  He couldn't feel a thing.

"Good morning.  You look pretty good for a corpse!"  Mr.
Mason held his strong chin in his hand, measuring Glen's
reaction.

"W-w-ot ooo meeen?"  Talking was painful and he stopped as
tears formed in his eyes.  

Mason held up a copy of the local newspaper.  A subhead read
in bold type HIGH SCHOOL MOURNS AS LOCAL
GUIDANCE COUNSELOR DIES IN AUTO ACCIDENT. 
Glen started to cry as he blurrily made out the text:

Glen Simmons, 20 years old of Bentson, Florida was killed
Wednesday morning at 11 pm PM when his Pontiac Firebird
slammed into a restraining wall on Coast Highway 14 and
plunged into the ocean two hundred feet below.  No body has
been recovered, but two witnesses, Mr. and Dr. Mason of
Solitude Lane reported that there was no question Simmons was
killed in the accident.  Richard Mason, a prominent local
attorney, testified to police seeing the car swerve erratically,
then driving off the road.  His wife, Dr. Lesley Mason with the
Private West Palm Beach Clinic was reported as telling police
there was no way the driver could have survived the fall and
subsequent explosion.  The police have ruled out any foul play
and closed the file.  No immediate relations were known at
press time."

He sobbed, which was agony.  "Why dooo tis?" he tried to
scream.  Why was he in such agony?

The redhaired woman was by his side with a syringe.  "Sleep
little one," she whispered and the world was black again.



Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
From: an225040@anon.penet.fi (marlissa)
Date: Wed,  2 Aug 1995 12:01:17 UTC
Subject: REPOST After School Special 4/7 (tg, nc, bd, teen)

The following story contains adult material.  If below the age of
18, go outside, get some fresh air and do something healthy (g).

If you ARE 18, then  you should know the following story
contains TG-oriented non-consensual sex and b&d themes,
involving a teen-aged character.  Both the characters and
occurences in this series are completely fictitious.

After School Special/Part Four

by Marlissa

Days later.

The woman and man were standing over him, arguing.

"It's my turn!" the woman was angrily disputing.  "You made
your picks the last time!  Besides," she cooed evilly, "I  think
you'll like my choice."

Was that Brenda standing behind them, wearing the candy
striper uniform?  Where was he anyway?  A hospital of some
kind?  What were they doing to him?  What had they already
done to him? The cast was still on his body leaving only his
arms bare.  He felt weak and sensed that he had lost a great deal
of weight.  Strange things were being done to him, things that
scared him.

"Well, if you have something interesting in mind, Lesley.  What
do look do you want for our new pet?"

"The Kelly look of course-- to go with our little Brenda! 
Wouldn't it be wonderful to have them both?  I want to take
advantage of that fine blonde hair of his.  A wonderful natural
feature."  She pulled out a scalpel and was using it as a pointer,
swinging it through the air as she described how she wished to
alter the subject in question.  "Small breasts but bigger than
Brenda's."  She put her arm around little Brenda and clutched a
small breast through the striped blouse.  She found the nipple
through the bra underneath and twisted.  Brenda cringed and
kept her lips clamped, but the pain in her eyes called out to
Glen.

"Yes, maybe a bit bigger.  Maybe a pair of nice ripe 32Bs--
cute, feminine, but not centerfold.  Big sensitive nipples to play
with.  A smaller upturned nose.  The chin has to go-- even if it
gets a little weak, it'll still work.  I want to really thin out the
eyebrows, but I want to lengthen and thicken the lashes."

Mr. Mason was nodding, in increasing agreement with his wife. 
"And the lips-- you'll do the lips, correct?"

She nodded.  "Yes, but not as much as Brenda.  Some moderate
collagen should plump up the lips, but let's no go Julia Roberts,
alright?  There's a pretty bow-shape there that might get ruined. 
Now, the waist needs to go down of course, and the hips go up-
- how about tagging it at a 32-24-29?  A nice, huggable petite
figure that's almost doll-like.  You like?"

Mr. Mason smiled.  "I like.  Sounds like you're going to  give
this bitch a nice, tight butt.  think she'll be grateful?


Glen froze as he heard the woman's icy, shrill cackle.  "After
what we do with it, I doubt it honey!"

"And you'll let the hair and nails grow out naturally or will you
use an accelerator?"

The doctor looked down at Glen.  "An accelerator.  Don't you
want everything done as quickly as possible?"

The man nodded.  "Absolutely."

Pain.  The syringe was sinking into his arm again.  

**************

Glen winced as Dr. Mason slipped the chastity belt over his
male member.  The metal was cold and he shivered.  The doctor
squeezed the microscopic snap with a pair of tweezers and it
clicked with finality.

Dr. Mason stroked his cheek, running her hand through his long,
lustrous blonde mane of hair.  "Cold, pretty baby?  Don't worry-
- it'll get so hot down there you'll never believe it was so cold! 
The two openings in the belt between your legs will allow you
to relieve yourself-- sitting down of course!  Now, stand up."

He obeyed promptly, popping off the hospital bed in the
Examination Room.  Glen had learned it was actually
underneath the Mason's mansion-- a private medical wing
devoted entirely to the private experiments and whimsies of Dr.
Mason.  It was where she had turned him into a girl.  There was
another room too, but one he had never been in.  From the
windowless, white hospital-style bedroom where he was locked
every night, he could hear things though.  Brenda's cries,
whippings, Mr. Mason's yells, Dr. Mason's screeching laugh. 
They called it the "Play Room."

As Glen stood in front of the mirror, he looked at the image that
stared back.  Was that really him?  It was still difficult to
believe the changes were permanent even after a whole month's
time.   The most obvious change was the pair of moderate sized
perky high-nippled breasts that hung from his chest.  He could
feel the jiggle of the orange-sized spheres as he moved quickly,
the way the cold air massaged his long nipples into small, hard
rubies.  They weren't huge, but he could surely feel their weight
as he walked.  

And he walked differently now too.  His legs were longer, his
calves shapelier.  His instep had been raised, giving him a
highstepping toe-first way of walking.  His hips were wider as
well, his butt fuller.  The whole affect was to give him the light
airy prance of a ballerina-- or a showgirl.

His hands were soft and callus free as if the heaviest object he
had ever lifted was a hairbrush.  Even the scar he had gotten
from fishing when he was twelve was gone.  All that was there
now was milky skin as soft as velvet.  And having nails now
was strange.  He had to be careful how he used his hands, how
he picked things up, how he held things, otherwise he might
break the nails.  And that was unthinkable.  His arms seemed
more relaxed as he walked if he held them up in the air, elbows
bent, with hand bent, palms down.  It also seemed natural for
him to rest his hands high on his hips, practically on his wispy
waist.  With thumb and index finger resting palm down on
them, he felt more relaxed than if he just kept them by his side. 
Glen couldn't tell, but he guessed some muscles in his body had
been lengthened and shorted to produced these desired
affectations.

Seeing his face for the first time was a frightening sensation. 
He could barely believe that the blue eyes were his.  Permanent
cosmetic contacts, the Doctor had explained.  His eyebrows,
once as thick as caterpillars were now razor-thin plucked blonde
arcs.  In contrast, his eyelashes were long and lusciously full-
bodied, and he now no longer closed his eyes and opened them-
- he batted his lashes.   His mouth was even smaller, his thin lips
now poutier.  When he smiled, his expression was like the one
they made Barbie dolls with-- sexy, surprised and happy all at
once.  His nose was half it's previous size.  He had a deviated
septum, the result of a long ago high school tussle, which had
given his nose a slight bend to the left.  But now it was small,
upturned and delicate and perfect as  porcelain.  And framing
his whole face was his light blonde hair, now straight and long
enough to reach to the tops of his breasts.

As he silently inspected himself, Mr. Mason walked into the
white hospital room.  "Well, there's the pretty lady!  How are
you Kelly?"  The older man was leering at his new breasts and
he held up his hands to shield them.  

"Uh, fine, Daddy," he answered in that new, subdued voice of
his.  Mr. Mason was Daddy and Dr. Mason was Mother, he had
been told.  Brenda was his little sister.  He was Kelly, a sixteen
year old girl.  A pretty girl who must behave.  Or Daddy and
Mother would punish Kelly.  Glen had already learned what a
hard spanking Daddy could give when his Kelly had sassed
back.  Damn!  That had hurt!

"We're about to go over the new rules, Father.  Please sit down-
- no, not you Kelly. You just stand there in front of the
examination mirror and listen carefully."

Glen saw Daddy's eyes on his bare butt reflected in the mirror.  
It made him so uncomfortable.  He had been kept naked since
the operations had ended a week ago and it was driving Kelly to
the point of nervous exhaustion.  He hated being kept nude.  It
made him so vulnerable.  All he wanted to do was snatch up a
sheet and cover himself.  But he kept quiet and listened to his
new parents instead.

"Your chastity belt is designed to keep that silly little thing of
yours under complete control.  You can function naturally in
every way, though it will prevent you from playing with
yourself.  It's o.k. to blush Kelly-- that's the sign of healthy
shame we want to instill in our girls."  She smiled.  "You
SHOULD be ashamed of that little thing-- which is why the
chastity belt will control it and keep it nice and flat.  We won't
have it ruining your panty lines with big bulges!  Got it?"

Glen nodded demurely.  For now, he had decided it was easier
to accept and obey.  Minute to minute, hour to hour, he told
himself.  Just survive long enough to get out of this nightmare
alive.

"As you know, you're a lucky little girl.  We've adopted you,
just like Brenda.  Rick has taken care of all the legal details.  As
your parents, we have complete responsibility for your
upbringing and discipline.  As you've already discovered, we're
very old fashioned when it comes to correcting improper
behavior. Our opinion is that pretty girls should be seen and not
heard."

Glen swallowed hard.  It was still strange to be think Dr. Mason
was talking about him, uh, her.   

Mr. Mason-- Daddy-- continued where his wife had left off.  "It
really is too bad for you that you had to meddle in our business-
- and that you happened to be such wonderful material to work
with!  Small, child-like in appearance, no facial hair-- hardly a
male at all!  Much better suited to be a teenage girl-- like
Brenda.  You were right about Brenda.  We took her when she
was about twelve.  You see we've always wanted kids.  Though
not for the usual reasons, right Dear?"

His wife, her hands resting in her white lab coat, nodded in
agreement.  She was pleased with her handiwork and like a true
craftsman kept inspecting the finished product, looking for a
single flaw.  But there were none, she knew.  Kelly was perfect-
- a sexy, sixteen year old girl.

"We are extremely successful and up to three years ago,
thoroughly bored.  Money after a certain point means nothing,"
Mr. Mason discoursed.  "You grow soft, begin to watch too
much television.  That was how we got hooked on Beverly Hills
90210.  Have you seen it?  As we watched it, we grew
infatuated with the idea of having those beautiful girls to do
with as we wished.  There's nothing as appealing as a teenage
girl coming to terms with her sexuality.  The experiments with
ever-so-subtly seductive, pretty clothing, the thrill of the stolen
first kiss, the innocence of the embrace, the sweet surrender to
the first lover.  It has a taste fuller than the finer glass of wine. 
Lesley agreed.  She had steadily more aroused by the sight of
the pretty, pampered girls on the show.  I think she even brought
up the idea.  Why not capture a runway who looked like one of
them for a pet?  I could handle the legal aspects of the capture
and Lesley could do the necessary cosmetic surgery to turn our
new possession into the toy of our dreams?  

You have to understand Kelly that Lesley and I are very
sophisticated when it comes to sex.  We have certain tastes that
aren't exactly mainstream.  Because we are both very
successful, we have come to look at the world in a different
way.  There are those who take and those who give.  Well,
instead of waiting for something to be offered, we take it.  This
goes for our tastes in lovemaking."

Glen noticed a burning glow in the man's eyes that scared him,
scared him more than anything else had so far.

"You wouldn't understand this, but people who have power like
to use it.  The exercise of power over those who don't have it is
an intoxicating experience never lose a taste for.  Power to
correct, power to train and tame, power to bend another to your
will--"

"Yessss!" Dr. Mason's hands were plunged deep in her pockets
as her husband continued his dark discourse.

He smiled at his wife.  "Well, it is a drug.  You get hooked. 
Unfortunately, my wife is just as strong willed as I am. 
Stalemate.  So we used whores-- a poor substitute at best.  You
never get the sense of true submission.  Thus, Lesley's idea.  I
loved it.  Between the two of us, we had the capability to pull it
off.  But the more Lesley thought about it, the less enthusiastic
she was about her own idea.  I asked her why but she refused to
say.

Then it hit me.  She was worried.  You see, Lesley is as jealous
as any spouse.  As am I.  She was concerned about the
inevitable course of such a plan.  What if I became too involved
with the runaway?  If I came to actually grow affectionate?  So
I suggested the perfect compromise-- a boy turned into a girl. 
We would leave the male genitals, but the rest would be
completely transformed into a pretty girl.  That way we could
have our cake and eat it too, so to speak.   We would have our
teenage temptress to train and play with, and temptation would
be avoided because I'd never, ever leave my Lesley to run off
with a boy.  Not that I would ever leave my darling wife, but
this solution made her feel better and satisfied both our
appetites."

He stroked his long, strong chin in smugness for the brilliant
solution they had concocted.  He looked at Glen with wide,
questioning eyes, but Glen remained silent.

" Since you had to be a nosy little fool, you have no one to
blame except yourself."  She  smiled disdainfully, her white
teeth bared.

"You were kind enough to bring your file regarding Brenda,
which I've destroyed."  Mr. Mason pulled a cigarette from a
small silver case and lit it with an obsidian lighter.  He took a
long, slow drag on the black Dunhill and continued.  "And
you're well aware of your tragic demise.  So all the loose ends
are tied up, are they not?"

Glen continued to clutch his breasts.  "You'll punish me if I tell
you what I really think of all this," he answered, his soprano
voice wavering with fear.

Mason flicked an ash in an ashtray and shook his head.  His
deep-set eyes were amused.  "Go ahead, Kelly.  tell us what
you REALLY think."  His wife's hard. cold eyes were on him
too, interested in what he had to say.  

"My name isn't Kelly.  It's Glen Simmons."

The wife looked at her husband.  The two laughed.  "Your
name is Kelly Mason,"  Mr. Mason advised patiently.  "Here is
your birth certificate."  He handed a square piece of paper to
Kelly, who took it quickly so as to keep his breasts covered.

He scanned it.  It said that he was indeed Kelly Mason, that his
parents were listed as unknown, that he had been born sixteen
years ago.  It was notarized with the appropriate date, the
signatures legitimate, the document completely legal.

"And this."  Mason passed another piece of paper to him.  It
was notification that Kelly had been adopted by the Masons two
months ago-- about the time of his "accident."

"And this."  Another piece of paper.  This one a death certificate
for Glen Simmons, dated and stamped by the proper authorities. 
It was signed by Dr. Lesley Mason, the reporting physician.

Glen looked up, tears forming.  It couldn't be!  It was
impossible to make someone go away and to create someone
else in their place!  It couldn't be done-- could it?  "I can find
witnesses..."

But Mason cut him off.  "You can?  We did someone
investigating and WE couldn't find family, friends, girlfriend,
anyone who might miss you.  Are you telling me there's
someone we missed?  Save your breath-- we didn't miss
anything."

"No one will suspect anything out of the ordinary, Blue Eyes." 
Dr. Mason shook her head emphatically. "No one."

"But I'm a man!  I have a cock!" Glen shrieked in frustration.  

The soprano betrayed him and the couple chuckled lightly at the
incongruity of the statement and the dulcet tone in which it was
expressed.  "Not really.  You'll find your chastity belt quite
snug, missy.  It isn't coming off any time soon.  As for being a
man, well--- I JUST DON'T THINK SO!"  Mr. Mason boomed
in scorn.

Glen looked around craftily and smiled.  "Fine.  You can't
watch me all the time.  I'll get out of here and then--"

Dr. Mason nodded in agreement.  "Naturally you'll be out of
here.  I've kept you here for observation, for your own good. 
But it is time you were allowed to live in the house with the rest
of us.  You have a wonderful bedroom all set up for you.  Any
high school girl would love it."

"And I'll get out of the house then--"

Mr. Mason looked at him dumbfounded.  "Of course you will,
young lady!  If you think you're going to laze around the house
all day, you're plain wrong!  You will be getting out of the
house-- and going to high school."

Glen was confused.  "Fine, then when I get to the high school,
I'll...I'll..."  His lips opened and slowly closed.  His blue eyes
widened.  

"You'll what, Kelly?  What will you do?"  Mason puffed on his
cigarette.  "You'll do nothing, because if you do, you'll be sent
home, diagnosed with mental problems.  And if you run away,
you'll be brought back here by the police.  And even if you do
get far enough away, what then?  How far do you think a pretty
blonde, blue eyed sixteen year old runaway girl would get on
the highway or city streets?  Hummm?"

Glen clutched his breasts closer.

" So you can put those thoughts out of your pretty empty little
head.  Thinking too much is bad-- very bad.  It's a habit you'll
lose soon enough.  Your mother knows how to help you forget
those pesky thoughts with some special medicine you'll be on
for a while.  Pretty soon you'll be the pretty vapid teen you
know you are-- and you can concentrate on what's really
important-- like boys and clothes and boys and makeup and
boys--"

"And lingerie and boys and jewelry and boys and so on," Dr.
Mason rattled off.  Then she leered.  "Not that boys are
EVERYTHING mind you.  There are women too."

Glen's hands had bunched into small, angry fists against his
heaving bosom.  "How can you make me do that?  You can't---
you can't make me into a girl if I was born a male!  There's no
way!  You just want an act and I'm not going to pretend to like
any of this so you two can get off!"  He was furious and
confused, but he knew this was right-- he wasn't gay and he
couldn't pretend to get into this kinky stuff no matter how much
they hurt him. He went on with more confidence.  "Oh, yeah,
you can MAKE me do things, you can FORCE me to do things,
but you'll know it isn't REAL!!!!"

He had hoped the outburst would shatter the perfect surface of
their arrogance, their utter calmness and the everyday-way they
were talking about remaking Glen Simmons, High School
Guidance Counselor into Kelly Mason, sixteen year old girl. 
He would have to make them see it just wouldn't work-- but
now they were laughing at him, laughing deeply and richly, as
if he couldn't be more wrong about anything.

The redheaded bitch caressed his arm.  "Poor Kelly!  Never
heard of mellaril?  Why would you?," she reminded herself.  It's
what's responsible for those plump boobs of yours.  But you're
right-- that's just a physical change, gives you feminine
characteristics externally.  The real magic is going on inside
your metabolism right now.  Another benefit of having you as
part of our little family is that I get to make up for an error in
judgment."  

Her husband tried to dispel criticism, but Lesley overruled him
with a wagging finger.  "Please Rick, don't.  I made a mistake
with Brenda.  I'll admit that.  But with Kelly, I can make up for
it."  She turned back to Glen.

"For the last two months, every since your untimely "accident,"
your system has been saturated with estradiol.  It's a high
performance female sex hormone.  Brenda was induced with the
same treatment.  She was given the exact amount of sex
hormones a normal girl her age would have.  Because of the
wonder of biochemistry, I've implanted you, like I did with
Brenda, with a device that will convert your testosterone into
estradiol.  However, instead of giving you the natural level of
hormones as we did with Brenda, you'll produce sex hormones
at a rate fifty percent higher than the level found in natural-born
teenage females."

Rick Mason hooked his finger in his belt, grinning wolfishly. 
"You see, even though Brenda's system carries the hormones,
since they are only average level, she hasn't been as, shall we
say, stimulated as we'd like her to be.  When we decided we
wanted her to have the characteristics of a young teenage girl,
we forgot that along with curiosity about sex, there would also
be fear and confusion.  Brenda's too prim and proper for our
tastes."

"Yes, and once the metabolism has been set, you can't screw
around with the biochemical mix," Lesley the doctor elaborated. 
"Brenda behaves just like a normal fourteen year old girl would-
- curious but scared, coy and immature.  Not what we want
when it comes time for frolics in the Play Room.  But with the
amount of Estradiol you've been given, we're sure you'll be able
to help us train Brenda the way we want her to behave for us."

He didn't like the sound of this.  "Estradiol?  What will it do to
me?" he asked feebly.  He dreaded that he might guess the
answer if not the specifics.

Mr. Mason put out his cigarette, letting his wife answer.  He
was so deliberate in all his actions, thought Glen.  As if he knew
every objection I could raise before I said a thing.

The doctor's tongue slipped in and out of her mouth as she
explained, as if savoring word after delicious word.  "It will
make you terribly insecure, very vain, extremely flighty.  Your
attention span will be very short and you'll become bored with
anything that requires too much thinking.  You'll be overly
preoccupied with your appearance at all times.  You'll be led by
your emotions, a spoiled brat one minute, a darling angel the
next.  You'll find yourself unable to make decisions for yourself
and you'll be drawn to strength, since you'll be so naturally
dependent and submissive.  In other words, you'll exhibit every
stereotypical female trait exaggerated by fifty percent.  And the
estradiol will have one more dramatic affect."

"What?  Please tell me!" begged Glen.  

She licked her lips before answering.  "You'll be a very, very
horny young lady.  Come on, Rick, let's take Kelly to her new
room."


Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
From: an225040@anon.penet.fi (marlissa)
Date: Wed,  2 Aug 1995 11:49:43 UTC
Subject: REPOST After School Special 5/7 (tg, nc, bd, teen)

The following story contains adult material.  If below the age of
18, go outside, get some fresh air and do something healthy (g).

If you ARE 18, then  you should know the following story
contains TG-oriented non-consensual sex and b&d themes,
involving a teen-aged character.  Both the characters and
occurences in this series are completely fictitious.

After School Special/Part Five

by Marlissa

Glen was shown to the bedroom by his new 'parents.'  He
gloomily looked around.  It was decorated entirely in pink--
pink plush carpeting; a big pink double bed, with two fluffy
pillows and a smiling oversized teddy bear; a pink vanity replete
with lipsticks, mascaras, perfumes, foundations, brushes, styling
pins and rollers; a pink painted bookshelf filled with brand new
paperbacks, all of them romance novels; a pink skirted
nightstand with  a stack of magazines like Cosmopolitan, Teen
Beat, Soap Opera Digest, and a number of catalogs from
Talbot's, Laura Ashely, Victoria's Secret and more; a pink
Princess phone;  a pink plastic boom box with a preselected
music library of Madonna, Janet Jackson, Whitney Houston,
and Wilson Philips CDs;  a pink lamp in the shape of a
ballerina;  and a single window adorned with pink curtains.  On
the wall were two posters.  One was full of flowers and flowing
feminine script.  It repeated a trite poem about setting love free
and it would come back to you.  Another was a full length
poster of Fabio, the romance novel cover model and teen
heartthrob.  The requisite Barbie doll rested on a bookcase shelf
watching over all with her empty and pleasing smile.  A Minnie
Mouse clock clicked away the minutes and hours on the wall.

"You'll be very happy here, Kelly."  Mr. Mason's -- Daddy's--
hand was on his bare ass and he hated it.

"And you'll finally be allowed to wear clothes.  Isn't that
exciting?  Why don't you play dress up by yourself and get used
to your new home, Kelly.  Your father and I will be down in the
Play Room with Brenda."  She rubbed her palm against her
thigh.  "She's been a very naughty girl and needs to be
punished."  The door was shut, leaving him alone.

He was relieved.  Privacy.  It was the first time he had enjoyed
privacy in two months.  And clothes!  He never realized how
much you could miss clothes!  He opened the dresser. 
Naturally-- girls' underwear.  Bras, panties, thigh high stockings
and nighties.  He opened the next drawer.  Tops-- but all in
bright or pastel colors.  He opened the bottom drawer-- shorts,
exercise outfits and bathing suits.  None of it in the least boy-
like. 

He turned and opened the closet.  Inside hung a number of
short-skirted dresses, frocks and miniskirts.  There was even a
little black cocktail dress.  "Is that when I get invited to school
dances?" he thought disgustedly.  On the floor were a number
of shoes-- many being three inch heels of varying fashion
colors.  In addition, there were a pair of open-toed sandals and a
pair of pink Reebok running shoes.

He looked out the window, down at the wide luxuriant green
lawn and the hedges that bounded the huge estate.  They
couldn't make him put these clothes on.  And yet he wanted to
cover his body.  Reluctantly he 
returned to the dresser.  He pulled out a light blue cotton bra
and slipped it on.  It gently lifted and separated his 32B breasts,
offering some girlish cleavage above the flowery trimming that
decorated the demi-cup.  He hated the pleasant way it made him
feel.  He had to resist.  But as he stepped into the matching
Calvin Klein blue thong panties, he couldn't help the wave of
delight he felt as the snug garment crept between and up his
legs.  He had to remember he was a male, a twenty year old
male, not some dopey sixteen year old kid.  But his resistance
crumbled as he slipped on the white cotton half-blouse that
bared his trim, flat tummy, feeling the tightness over his breasts
as he buttoned up.  He picked out the only pair of jeans in the
closet, determined not to wear a skirt, no matter what.

But as he held up the pair of No Excuses jeans, he realized why
the calves had zippers.  The designer jeans were so tight, he had
to unzip the calves, then get on his back and try to jam himself
into the legs.  He managed to get them half in and stood up
carefully.  He bounced up and down as he forced his already
small butt into the even tighter jeans.  At last he was able to get
them in and triumphantly zipped the zipper.  With the air of a
natural gesture, his hands found their familiar perch on his hips. 
The mirror showed a sassy, hot to trot sixteen year old with
pouty lips and smoldering blue eyes.  But that wasn't the reality,
Glen reminded himself frantically.  Fishing though the shoes, he
slipped on the pink running shoes.

"Very pretty, Blue Eyes."  It was the Masons.  They were back. 
But they weren't alone.  Mr. Mason yanked a leash and Brenda
came tumbling to the floor behind him.  "See your new big
sister, missy?"

Brenda looked up, eyes swollen with tears.  The leash was
attached to a pair of handcuffs and allowed Mr. Mason to drag
the boy-girl behind him.  The fourteen year old wore only a pair
of white bikini panties and a training bra.  The back of his thighs
were red as if from being hit with a flat object repeatedly.  

"Brenda has been a naughty little girl, Kelly.  It seems your
sister isn't as interested as she should be in her housekeeping
duties.  Naughty girl!"  Mason screamed at the girl.  

Brenda groveled on the floor before the two adults.  "Please! 
No more!  Please!  I won't do it again!"  She pressed her cheek
against Lesley Mason's high heeled shoe pathetically.

Mrs. Mason rubbed her shoe across the boy-girls cheek and
Brenda obediently began to lick it.  "This is what happens with
only children," she spoke to her husband.  "They get spoiled
like Brenda.  You know, I think having a big sister like Kelly
around will do wonders for teaching Brenda how to act like a
proper young lady."

Mr. Mason concurred.  "Kelly, you may do whatever girls do
when they are alone.  Your mother and I need to continue with
Brenda's discipline-- in our bedroom."

Brenda looked up.  Kelly noticed the boy-girl shaking as he
struggled to his feet.  The door was shut and Glen was left only
to wonder about the many shocking shouts and cries he heard
from the bedroom in the following hours.

*****************************

Rick Mason heard the door shut first.  "The girls are home,
Darling.  It's Homework Time"

Lesley Mason looked up.  She had been reading a medical
journal article, which she carefully bookmarked and closed. 
Languidly she rose to follow her husband, who was already
downstairs ordering the girls to come to the Play Room.

She walked in to find them standing, heads down, for their next
instruction.  The Play Room was her idea.  As a creator and
shaper by training, she had put much of her imagination in it's
design.  The immediate impression was dungeon-like.   She
preferred the dark, Gothic stony look, with the fireplace for her
and her husband's love games.  It put everyone involved in the
proper frame of mind.  Two sets of manacles hung from the
ceiling, which were easily controlled by a simple winch.  A
stockade and sawhorse sat ready for  use on the side of the
dark, barely-lit room.  Whips, crops, and canes of all sizes and
thickness waited on wall brackets for hard hands to wield  them. 
A cage waited for an insolent prisoner in the other corner. 
Lesley's favorite prop was a device they had bought
commercially-- a kind of saddle-seat mount from which
protruded a detachable dildo.  Oh she loved that toy!

Rick lit the fireplace and brought it to a roar with the bellows. 
"Strip down, sluts.  You first Brenda."

The little brunette looked down and though shivering with
fright, kicked off her heels.  Unsteadily, he pulled off his ribbed
pink tank top, exposing his cotton bra.  At fourteen and a half,
Brenda had just been allowed to graduate from a training bra to
the real thing, even though his breasts hadn't grown, nor would
they ever grow any bigger. Gingerly he unzipped his denim
miniskirt.  Wriggling out of it, he waited in only his pink cotton
softcup bra with it's thin straps and the matching pink cotton
bikini panties.

"Now Kelly."

With a saucy smile, the sixteen and a half year old kicked off 
his red high heels and pulled off his midriff t-shirt.  It was tight
and read "Boy Toy" on the front and back.  Underneath, his
healthy pert bust was supported by a red lace half-bra, which he
thrust out proudly.  Kelly loved his breasts, the way the boys
and male teachers at school looked at them, the way he could
make them jiggle to get attention.  Sinuously, he pulled down
her neon green spandex bike shorts to reveal the red lace thong
panty.  It had been a gift from Daddy for being such a good girl
in helping to slut-train his little sister Brenda.  He loved them--
they made him feel like such a pampered princess!

Months ago, Kelly had hated to wear the revealing, provocative
clothing he wore now.  He had made up his mind to resist the
temptations of the feminine trap he was in.  He was a male, a
twenty year old man.  Panties and bras couldn't change that and
he wouldn't accept them as natural.  But slowly his feelings
changed.  Not that he liked what had happened to him-- he
missed the freedom being a man had given him.  Everything
feminine was such a prison-- tight clothes, high heels,
mandatory make-up, everything.  And the dull hot throb that
emanated from the chastity belt reminded him constantly that he
had born a male.  It was so frustrating never to be able to
scratch the itch below, the itch that was a curse because the
things that his adoptive parents did to him always kept it
burning.  

But his attitude had changed.  It wasn't the result of the
punishments he earned from time to time.  It wasn't the training
either.  It was from inside.  It was the creep in his spine that
rose when he realized he was becoming very good at dressing
up, the silent scream from knowing he blushed when Daddy
complimented him, the anguish that raged impotently when he
began to pick and choose from his growing lingerie collection
and get turned on, even against his will.

And then his escape plans began to dissolve in gauzy
daydreams.  His instincts told him if he could talk to the right
people, have them check his fingerprints or dental records,
then...  But  a day would pass and these thoughts would be lost. 
And in trying to rediscover them, he found that thinking was
just too hard, too exhausting, too frustrating.  Instead of taking
firm shapes, his thoughts grew fuzzy and vague, like strands of
cotton candy that dissolved at the merest touch.  He gave up
thoughts of escape in favor of less complicated, simpler things
like his romance novels and soap operas, what to wear and what
color to paint his nails.

Then school had started.  It was strange being a student in the
same school he had once been a faculty member of.  Not that he
any longer remembered the skills or education he had once had. 
Today Kelly was no more able to be a guidance counselor than
he was a rocket scientist!  Luckily, he wasn't encumbered with
college prep courses.  Like Brenda, his parents had enrolled him
in general overview courses that wouldn't tax his mental
abilities.  The only courses he had to worry about grades in
were Home Economics and Gym class.  Home Ec was
important because he was responsible for household cooking
and cleaning, with Brenda as his helper.  Gym was important
because it kept him in shape, though aerobics at home were also
expected.  

School itself was a nervous blur for Brenda.  The young boy-
girl was jumpy and still unable to handle the attention his
ripening feminine body and teasing clothes attracted from boys. 
But for Kelly, being a pretty high school sophomore was
wonderful.  In the clothes he wore now and the nubile body he
sported, he did indeed resemble the Kelly Taylor character from
the Beverly Hills 90210 series.  Sweet, tarty thoughts crossed
his mind as he swung his hips in the tiny red miniskirt for the
boys behind him.  He began to find power over boys in the
smallest ways-- by bending over to reveal some pink cleavage,
to toy with a stray bra strap, to giggle cutely at their silly jokes,
to intently listen, eyeing them dreamily as they spoke to him.  

He wasn't permitted a boyfriend by his parents.  Kelly was
reserved for their use alone.  Whenever he was asked out on a
date, Kelly had learned to answer that there was a boyfriend
who was in the Marines, so, gosh no it wouldn't be possible for
Kelly to cheat on him, would it?  But if Kelly wasn't already
involved,  and if the mysterious Marine ever dumped Kelly,
could she take a raincheck and call the boy up?  This strategy of
assuaging each boy's ego kept them from thinking the pretty
blonde was "stuck up."  

He was allowed to flirt, though, and flirt he did, with the boys
he was beginning to think of more and more as cute and
handsome.  Instead of paying attention to the teacher, Kelly
would silently choose a boy in a classroom and begin to tease
him, allowing the lucky boy quick peeks of the bright polyester
or lace panties he wore as he slowly crossed his legs under the
desk.  Such behavior earned him the reputation of a slut, which
he both resented and accepted.  Kelly was Kelly-- he couldn't
help what he had been turned into.    


Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
From: an225040@anon.penet.fi (marlissa)
Date: Wed,  2 Aug 1995 11:49:38 UTC
Subject: REPOST After School Special 6/7 (tg, nc, bd, teen)

The following story contains adult material.  If below the age of
18, go outside, get some fresh air and do something healthy (g).

If you ARE 18, then  you should know the following story
contains TG-oriented non-consensual sex and b&d themes,
involving a teen-aged character.  Both the characters and
occurences in this series are completely fictitious.

After School Special/Part Six

by Marlissa


Daddy sat in the big arm chair as Mother took over the Home
Work lesson.  She had stripped down to her lingerie-- a black
lace bra, black panties and high heels.  Her pale skin and her red
hair made her a most striking woman.  "Well, my pretties, let's
begin your lesson today where we left off last night.  Brenda,
down on your knees.  Now Kelly, you too-- but face your little
sister."

The two boy-girls waited, eyes still downcast.  Kelly generally
didn't mind these sessions, except the painful parts of course,
but Brenda did not.  He was still too much of a prudish little girl
for.  It was one of the reasons he had to help slut-train Brenda
for their parents.  Kelly was the perfect slut, Daddy said.  

"Now, Kelly, lean forward and kiss Brenda.  Show her how to
French kiss.  Go on-- get to it!"  Mother had chosen a riding
crop from the arsenal of disciplinary implements and waved it
threateningly.

Everyday after school there was a predetermined Homework
Lesson.  Instruction was always held in the Play Room by
Daddy and Mother.  Sometimes others came to watch too, men
and women who drank wine and watched.  Monday's
Homework Lessons always started with French kissing and
foreplay.  Tuesday was for breast and nipple play, Wednesday
was dedicated to striptease practice, Thursday oral and body
worship, and Friday was for sextoy lessons, and the weekend
was whatever Daddy and Mother decided.  Fridays made Kelly
nervous.  Mother and Daddy had such a varied dildo collection
and some hurt so much.  But today was French kissing and
Kelly liked French kissing a lot.  

Kelly obeyed Mother's instruction, letting his tongue sink deep
into the fourteen year old's soft mouth.  He rolled it around,
exploring it even as Brenda's own tongue shyly retreated before
its onslaught.

SWAT!  "Brenda!  Show Big Sister you love her back!  Go on! 
This is how you learn!"

Brenda obeyed, and the two were soon in a passionate lesbian
tongue lock.  Lesley looked up.  Rick had pulled off his shirt
and was unzipping his pants.  She watched the boy-girls as they
hungrily sought each other's mouths for a good twenty minutes.
Then she ordered them to stop.

Pettishly Kelly withdrew his tongue from Brenda's mouth.  The
younger teen's small mouth closed in an instant.

"Now Kelly I want you to instruct Brenda how to make out
with a boy.  Pretend you're a boy on a date with Brenda. 
Brenda, you're a little slut for your man, so don't resist,  Kelly,
as the boy, you know that Brenda is easy, so you can take
second base.  Got it?"

Kelly licked his lips and nodded. 

"Go on, then."

Kelly wrapped his arms around Brenda and the brassiered
chests of the two sissified boys touched electrically.  "Bren,
honey, stick your titties out-- boys like that!  Isn't that right
Mother?"

Lesley patted his long blonde hair.  "You're slut reading is going
well, I can tell."  

Kelly's full lips were curled into a tight, smug smile.  At first,
he hadn't liked his slut reading.  Mother had made such an
embarrassing deal over it--marking the articles in Cosmo and
New Woman for him to read.  They were all sex advice articles
on how to make your man feel good in bed, ways to flirt and
dress provocatively.  He hadn't paid much attention and found
them disgusting.  But after a few "pop quizzes" and some
smarting spankings, Kelly got the hint.  He began to devour the
articles.  Then came the subscription to Playgirl that now came
regularly in her name.  He was allowed to read it by himself,
but Mother's questions made it clear he was expected to absorb
the contents of every issue completely, condom ads included. 
He now kept the stack of dog-eared Playgirls by his nightstand. 
Recently, Daddy had taken Kelly on lap and had him read
letters from Penthouse aloud for he and Mother, especially the
letters from female writers.  It always got Daddy in a very, very
good mood when Kelly did this well.    

"Go on, Kelly.," Mother snapped.  "Brenda, follow your sister's
advice-- she' s only trying to help you be a better slut."

Brenda stuck his tiny chest out.  Kelly's small hands unwrapped
themselves and cupped the small offering, squeezing the
nipples.  "Moan whenever I touch you Brenda-- that way a boy
knows you like what he's doing!"  Kelly had read this in a
number of times in the Advice Column in Playgirl.

Brenda began to moan softly as Kelly unhooked the juvenile
bra.  Closing his eyes, he began to buck against his Big Sis as
Kelly took hold of the flesh buds.  "Is that right Kelly?  Last
time you said boys like this."

Kelly gave him a full kiss on the lips.  "Yes, Little Sister, that's
good, very good."

Lesley grinned at Rick.  "Our daughters are a couple of lezzies,
dear.  What do you think?"

Rick stood up abruptly.  "Get the bitches on their fours," he
ordered.

Kelly and Brenda paused.   Kelly put on a counterfeit smile.  
"Oh, do me Daddy!  Please, pretty please!?!  Do me-- you said
I'm your favorite slut!"  He hunched down on his elbows and
offered his panty-thonged backside up for anal rape.  

But Daddy crooked his finger at Brenda.  "Come here you little
slut and get me wet."

Kelly turned around.  "Please Daddy!  Last time you really hurt
her!  Please- I like it and she doesn't!  Do me!"  But all he got
was a vicious slap from Lesley.

"I'll do you pretty baby-- don't worry.  Your hole will get filled. 
Now get back down on your fours facing Brenda."

"Brenda, you're going to be Daddy's little cocksucker, aren't
you?  You little bitch-- you know how much you love the taste
of my cum!  And if you so much as let your braces scratch my
cock-- even a little-- you'll get a beating you won't forget!" 
With that warning, Rick jammed his cock down the fourteen
year old's throat, cruelly filling the tight orifice.  Using his
ponytail as a ripcord, he pulled the young teen up and down to
ensure equal devotion to the entire length of his shaft.  Finally
he pulled the ponytail down, freeing Brenda's mouth with a pop. 
The redfaced teen looked up in terror.

"Please Daddy!  It hurts!  It hurts so much!"  As he begged, he
clutched her breasts, crossing his legs desperately.

Without answering, he took the ponytail again and yanked his
face down to the floor.  "Stick your ass up in the air like a good
girl or I'll whip it off of you!"

A whimper, then the pink bikini'ed butt was pulled up and
raised for Mason's cruel usage.  Kelly looked at his slave sister
in submission , waiting for his own use.  Behind him, he felt
Mother's hands commanding his own hips to raise.  Then the
nails scraping around the red lace thong, yanking it down.  Then
the cold tip of the thick plastic strap-on phallus against his anal
rosebud.  No lubricant, no gentleness, just a mighty heave and
Kelly was filled with the missile.  He looked at his poor little
sister.  Brenda had dissolved into tears as Daddy rammed the
helpless rag doll of a boy-girl from behind.  He could see the
eyes open wide in fear and agony then close as he pulled back,
then repeated their opening.

"Let the lezzies love one another, Lesley!" Daddy commanded. 
Kelly could feel his hips being reamed and driven forward
toward Brenda, his companion in rape.  Their faces were forced
forward, nose to nose.

"Go on-- make out, girlies!  Make kissy face for us! Kelly, tell
your little sister how to be a good piece of ass for Daddy!" 
Daddy ordered. 

Kelly nudged his tongue in Brenda's mouth.  Brenda limply
responded when Daddy landed a hard slap on his bare thigh.  

"Bren, Daddy likes it when you buck your hips back in rhythm
to his.  Go on, do it!"

The fourteen year old looked at his slave sister in misery.  "Kel,
it hurts so much!  It hurts me soooo much!"

"Just do it, Brenda!  Sluts like us buck our hips to our lovers'
rhythm.  Come on, I know you can do it!"

And Brenda gasped, and obeyed.  Slowly he was picking up the
rhythm of his adoptive father's rape and responding to it. 
Daddy grunted in approval.  He pushed Brenda forward again,
satisfied.  Even as the two were being brutally taken from
behind, they made soft lesbian kissing love, older boy-sister to
younger boy-sister, teens in gentle heat.  Kelly knew Daddy had
shot his hot jism into Brenda as he gasped for breath and surged
forward.  Mother always took longer.  Kelly threw his hips into
overdrive, rocking back and forth like a pro.  Mother responded
by stepping up her thrusts till she had overtaken Kelly.  Then
like a rider breaking in a mount, she slowly finished off, pulling
out of an exhausted Kelly.

"Clean me off girlie," Mother ordered.  Kelly scrambled to his
knees and took the gooey long black plastic cock, deepthroating
it.  He wrapped her lips tightly against the side.  Dildos and
strap-ons had to be cleaned flawlessly and there had been many
lessons in doing it.  Kelly was good-- a natural cocksucker,
Daddy called him, but Brenda was still learning.

"Owww!  Stupid little slut!"  Kelly looked over.   Brenda had
been put to the same task as he had, but his little sister had made
some mistake.  Mother yanked Kelly's blonde mane like a leash
to his own cocksucking duties.

"Damn bitch!  You got my hair caught in your braces! 
Arghhh!"  Daddy backhanded Brenda, wrenching his metal
mouth free from his cock.  He looked up, quivering.

"I'm sorry Daddy!" he yelped, but it was too late.  He hauled
the fourteen year old up by his hands and locked his wrists in
the manacles.  Slowly he raised the winch up, lifting the teen
onto his tiptoes.  With relish, he picked out a paddle, testing it
against his palm.  


Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
From: an225040@anon.penet.fi (marlissa)
Date: Wed,  2 Aug 1995 11:51:04 UTC
Subject: REPOST After School Special 7/7 (tg, nc, bd, teen)

The following story contains adult material.  If below the age of
18, go outside, get some fresh air and do something healthy (g).

If you ARE 18, then  you should know the following story
contains TG-oriented non-consensual sex and b&d themes,
involving a teen-aged character.  Both the characters and
occurences in this series are completely fictitious.

After School Special/Part Seven

by Marlissa


"I'll teach you to be so careless, Brenda!"  He swung the paddle
back and landed it squarely on his cupcake asscheeks.  Brenda
screamed but the soundproofed walls retained the music of his
agony within the room.  Again and again the paddle fell.

Kelly could feel his mistress'es interest switch to the helpless
boy-girl's punishment.  He continued to lap the plastic dildo
clean, hoping to avoid displeasing Mother the way Brenda had
displeased Daddy.  His chin was cupped.  Mother unbuckled
the strap-on.

"I want to watch Brenda get what's coming to her.  Come with
me-- on your fours, bitch!"  Mother walked to the arm chair
Daddy had been sitting in earlier.  Kelly followed her, a kitten
following its mistress.  She sat down, spreading her legs.  With
easy finesse, she hooked her thumb in the band of her black
panty and pulled the dainty thing off.  Beneath, her bright-red
haired cleft was wet and sparkling.

"Pleasure me, Blue Eyes.  Pleasure me well.  Or you'll get what
Brenda is getting."  She spread her thighs wide open and
reclined with a dry smile.  

Kelly carefully nuzzled his face to the older woman's sex and
began to lick the furry edgings of Mrs. Mason's pussy.  He had
been trained how to do this and knew precisely where and how
long to lick.  As Brenda whined for mercy from Daddy, he
reminded himself that he must teach Brenda how to be a
cuntlapper.  It would be an important slut skill for his lil sis to
know!  Mother stroked his hair now almost appreciatively and
he renewed his oral worship, happy to keep the woman happy. 
After a good thirty minutes, throughout which she filled Kelly's
mouth twice with her stickiness,  Dr. Lesley Mason pushed the
pretty blonde away.  She looked for something on the floor,
found it and picked it up with toes.  It was her discarded black
lace panties.

"Clean the crotch.  A sweet treat for a good little bitch!"  She
patted Kelly on the head and the blonde dutifully spread the
panty crotch face up and began to give it long, loving licks--
tasting with each his adoptive mother's love juice.  

Brenda's manacles had been lowered so that he now crouched
on his knees in front of Rick Mason.  He was crying
hysterically, promising to be a good slut for Daddy.  "Please
don't hit me any more!" he screeched.

Daddy looked down at the teen boy-girl.  "See what a good girl
Kelly is, Brenda?  Why can't you be more like her?  She how
she likes being a sexy bimbo slut now?  Remember how at first
she didn't?"

"Yes, Daddy!  Please don't hurt me anymore!" he pleaded
manically.

He slapped her and continued.  "Quiet, wench.  Now listen. 
Kelly is going to be giving you more and more slut lessons and
I expect you to pay close attention-- UNDERSTAND?"

He nodded dumbly.

"Good.  Now I want you  to kiss your Daddy's balls-- AND
DON'T YOU DARE SCRATCH THEM WITH YOUR
BRACES!"

Brenda bent his head and began the humiliating task, happy just
not to be further punished.  He offered loving adoration to each
of his Daddy's sweaty, hairy balls as he held Brenda's black
ponytail as a rein.  

"That's my sexy little girlie!  Inside those balls I'm making cum
just for my Brenda-girl to drink!  Wouldn't you like a nice
sticky mouthful of Daddy's cum?"

Brenda nodded, his tongue too busy to answer.   His cock was
rising again and Daddy rubbed it against the teen's pale face. 
Suddenly, he drew the ponytail back and aimed the cock at
Brenda's bare chest.  In a second, Brenda's two small bubbles
were covered with a sheet of the spunk.  

"Is Kelly done cleaning your panties, Lesley?  I have a chore
for her."

Mother snapped her fingers and Kelly looked up.  "Your Daddy
has a job for you."  

Rick Mason pointed at Brenda's small cum coated titties. 
"Clean your sister's little hooters off, girlie.  Milk them good."

Kelly nodded sweetly.  He wasn't about to get Daddy mad at
her by sassing.  Besides cum wasn't so bad tasting.  He lowered
his lips to Brenda's nipple and began to tongue off the salty
snack.  As he did, Brenda began to moan in his bondage,
pushing his boobs lewdly forward, greedy for more sisterly
attention.  The parents watched as the older teen boy-girl made
love to the other's small feminine mounds.     

"Sweet pets, aren't they Rick?" his wife asked.  Her husband
nodded.  "And they thought they were boys.  Why they're the
cutest little teenage bimbos I've ever seen.  Brenda-- so
innocent!  And Kelly-- so horny!"

That night they were told that they would be rewarded for doing
such a good job on their "homework" by being allowed to sleep
with each other.  It was a wonderful treat, thought Kelly as he
watched his younger sister get ready for bed.  The brunette had
come to find Kelly his best friend, so much smarter and more
sophisticated.  Why, Kelly got to wear the prettiest lace panties
and bras, which he wore on those big breasts of his!  If he had
to be a girl and have an older sister, he was glad it was Kelly! 
And he just loved cuddling with his pretty older sis too.  

"Kelly," he asked, "what do you want your Lil Sis in?" He
knew he was teasing, but couldn't help it.  

Kelly had given him a "you know better than that" look.  "Don't
be such a bitch, Bren! You know how sexy you look in your
red panties.  And don't forget your bra!  You know Daddy and
Mother want your breasts to get as much shape and lift as they
can.  They're so small and dainty they need to be in a bra as
much as they can.  You can't keep not wearing your bra to bed--
they'll find out and punish you!"

He pouted and agreed, slipping on at least a cute pink colored
bra for his sissy sister-lover.  Then slipping on his sister's
preferred red thong panties, he presented himself.  "Like me?"

Kelly smiled at his sis.  He had come to love the younger boy-
girl and tried to protect him as much as he had been able.  It
was so hard when Kelly also had to help teach him all the
degrading things their adoptive parents required of them.  At
least tonight they could find peace in each other's arms.  And his
little lover looked just so hot in his cotton undies!

"I just can't wait to start!" he answered impishly.  

Hand in hand, they minced bare foot into Kelly's room.  Inside
they found Daddy and Mother waiting.  Daddy held a video
recorder.

"Are you both ready?" Mother demanded.

Kelly nodded his head.  "I'm not wearing anything under my
robe.  If that's o.k."

Daddy put the camera down.  "Put on something very sexy for
your sister.  Something she's not old enough to wear but you
are.  Put on one of the things I bought you for Valentine's Day. 
That should emphasize the age difference."

Dully, Kelly opened his dresser.  He pulled out a black lace
garter belt, black lace thong panties and a black lace push-up
bra.  He held them up for approval.  Daddy had bought them for
Kelly not longer after the Estradiol had really begun to kick in--
when Kelly had turned from the sullen, withdrawn prisoner into
the hot-blooded young sexpot.  After that Daddy and Mother
had given him lots of pretty things to wear for them.   

"Perfect.  Put them on.  Black heels too," he was instructed.

As he donned the lingerie, he heard Mother speak into the
microphone.  "Lesbian Lessons For Little Sister, testing."

Brenda was told to get under the covers.  "Hug the teddy bear
and pretend you're dreaming of a boyfriend," he was told by
Daddy.  Brenda did as he was told as the camera began to
capture the moment.

Mother snapped her fingers and Kelly quickly pranced in the
heels to her side.  "We're going to turn your make-out into a
movie for our friends.  You two are going to be movie stars."

Kelly smiled.  He knew he was supposed to smile so he did, but
he didn't feel it inside.  He felt dirty and excited at the same
time.

"Now you're going to surprise little Brenda there in bed.  Use
your imagination and show us what a slut you are for her." 
Mother was so excited.

"Yes, do Kelly-- or I'll take you over my knee for sure. 
Understand?" Daddy threatened from behind the video camera.    

He nodded with a bright bimbo smile .  "Oh, yes Daddy!  I'll try
to do a super job!"  

The camera whirred on.  Kelly crept up to the bedside and
gently took the teddy bear from the sleeping boy-girl.  Brenda
looked up and he held his finger to his sensuous lips. 

"SSSSHHH or our parents will hear!" he whispered.  "Do you
think I'm pretty?"

Brenda smiled wide and nodded.  

"Can I get into bed with you?" he asked and again Brenda
nodded.

Kelly snuggled in the bed and threw off the covers.  "Like my
pretty undies, Bren?" he purred.

Brenda nodded.  "Do you like mine?"   He thrust out her little
boobed-filled bra.  Clearly the filming didn't matter to him.  He
wanted to be with his older slave sister regardless.

Kelly played with the bra's little shoulder strap.  "Cute!  What's
your bra size, Brenda?"

"Just a 32AAA, Kelly.  But I'm only fourteen and a half. 
Maybe they'll grow out.  What size are yours?"

Kelly was getting into his role now.  "32B.  Say, do you know
what a lesbian is Bren?"

Brenda shook his head.  "No Kelly."

Kelly stroked his sister's breasts through the soft cotton cup. 
"It's when a girl wants to be with another girl, like the way she
might be with a boy."

Brenda blushed.  "I've never been with a boy, Kelly.  Just
Daddy."

The blonde was now stroking his little sister's thigh.  "Want to
be my girlfriend, Brenda?"

Brenda coyly smiled.  "Will you teach me how Kelly?"

Kelly answered by pulled down Brenda's bra straps then leaning
forward to unhook it.  Then he leaned forward to snuggle his
own black laced tits against his young sister's bare nipples. 
Like magic the nipples snapped to attention under the older boy-
girl's ministrations.

"You're hot for me, Bren-- see your boobies?"  Then he
unhooked his own bra and the two began a chest-to-chest dry
hump that lasted for what seemed hours.  "See how much I love
you little sister?  Your little titties?  Your pretty mouth?  I love
you Brenda Mason!  If I could, I'd keep you as mine, all mine!" 
And with that, Daddy and Mother rose, the camera off.

"Good job girlies.  Now Brenda, off to your bed little one. 
Kelly, lights out.  Tomorrow is a school day."  Mother and
Daddy left the two to their respective slumber.

And as Kelly nodded off to sleep, he dreamed he was a
beautiful butterfly kept in a jar by a man and a woman.  Would
they ever let him out of the jar?  As he dreamed, tears like rain
made his pillow wet.  In the morning he would forget, but for
know he knew he was the pretty butterfly in a jar that would
never be anything other than pretty, weak and possessed.  The
tears were shed for a long time before he finally drifted to a
nocturnal peace.

THE END

I hope you liked AFTER SCHOOL SPECIAL.  Comments always appreciated!  
Send
them to an225040@anon.penet.fi


