From: curjim@usa.pipeline.com(Curjim)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: story:  Eric's Dilemma (tg, femdom)
Date: 2 Dec 1995 06:58:55 GMT
Organization: PSINet/Pipeline USA
Message-ID: <49otff$lgc@news1.usa.pipeline.com>

 

WARNING:  The following story contains graphic descriptions of sexual

activity.  This is a work of FICTION (as far as I know), intended for

ADULTS ONLY.  If you are below 21 years of age, or offended by this kind of

material, or it is illegal where you are, stop reading now.  --  CJ 

 

If you like this, watch this space!  More to come... 

curjim@usa.pipeline.com 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Eric's Dilemma 

by She-Devil 

 

******. 

 

 

	The music kept the beat.  The girls on the stage shimmied as best they

might in their stilted heels.  Oddly, the audience was filled with women,

not men, and the dancers showed none of the exhibitionism linked with

topless dancers.  The bulge in their g-strings looked a little too full.  

Alexis wondered what that meant. 

 

	The back of Club MALES was dark., some booths filled with shadowy shapes

writhing in pleasure.  In one, an anxious woman sat, pleading her case. 

 

	"I know you can help me, Kim said so." 

 

	Alexis brushed the platinum blonde curls out of her eyes and tried to

convince the Club's owner of her sincerity.  Someone had to save Alexis or

God knows what would happen to her. 

 

	Two years ago Alexis Lane had been at the top of her class in business

school.  Picked to go far, her mistake had been to fall for the

blandishments of Eric Katt.  THE Eric Katt, Takeover King and Corporate

Raider Extraordinare.  Eric had promised Alexis exposure, a chance to show

what she had, to show she could stay on her toes.  It could be argued that

Eric had kept his word, literally. 

 

	Alexis, or as she was known now, "Alli" Katt, found herself turned into a

blonde, busty "T & A", wet dream, prancing about in heels that indeed kept

her on tiptoe, scampering about in dresses that revealed just what she had,

and this  exposure" had destroyed any hopes of a legitimate career. 

 

	Why didn't she leave?  Get a divorce and a chunk of his millions?  Alexis

had tried but Eric never tried.  He did!  Alexis' mother was

institutionalized, a nervous breakdown.  She had been making progress

toward normalcy.  It was a delicate time and an uncertain process.  Alexis

tried to visit as often as she could. 

 

	Barbara Lane sat in front of the vanity.  Her body was sheathed in a red

satin dress that showed her breasts.  Her hair was jet black and teased. 

In horror, from the door, Alexis listened as the nurse insisted that

Barbara's already theatrical makeup needed to be touched up.  Despite

Alexis' angry protests, Barbara never took her eyes from her reflection. 

The makeup kept caking on.  At the director's office, Alexis was put on the

phone with the owner, Eric of course.  And dutifully, Alexis allowed

herself to become Alli Katt, prize trophy of the sexist, chauvinistic Mr.

Katt. 

 

	"It could be done.  It would be dangerous, but it could be done.  What do

you have in mind and what are you offering in payment?"  Lorna Reina

survived because she was careful. 

 

	It was one thing to take a man and degrade him with psuedo- femininity. 

It could even happen to the well-known and mildly prominent.  Celebrities

were a perfect example.  A once famous rock star was now working as a

parlor maid - nothing French, long starched uniforms and sturdy shoes - now

after his involuntary stay at MALES. 

 

	The powerful were something else altogether.  They could have plans laid,

loyal retainers charged with their rescue, scenarios pre-plotted to foil

the cleverest kidnappers.  And if she were caught, Lorna had no illusions

of being arrested.  A man like Eric Katt would have her killed. 

 

	Still, it might be a particularly succulent challenge. Indeed, Eric's

bimbo wife was succulent herself.  Alexis squirmed under Lorna's too

interested gaze.  Her surgically augmented breasts swelled in all their

36-D grandeur from the cups of her rubber bustier.  The matching latex

micro-mini  molded everything and showed everything. 

 

	"If I am to do this ... First, I will be paid $10,000,000 in cash or cash

equivalent in U.S. dollars". Lorna announced. 

 

	"Second, I will make all plans for the adventure, and I will have sole use

and enjoyment of the project for six months after success." 

 

	"Third, after I am forced to relinquish my project, you will take it's

place for six months." 

 

	A nice way to see if this overblown plaything was serious.  It was one

thing to consign your abusive mate to sugjugation, but quite another to

take his place as part of the fee. 

 

	Swallowing and red-faced, Alexis signed the necessary documents. 

 

	********* 

 

	The financial papers were full of the news.  Eric Katt, a massive stroke! 

Found collapsed at his Hampton's estate by his wife. Alexis, newly coifed

and tastefully dressed, made several public statements expressing hope but

acknowleged that her husband's dire condition left little expectation of a

return to his affairs. 

 

	There was no opposition to Alexis as she took over her husband's empire. 

Lawyers mopped up details, accountants audited the books and, once the

various executives who were handsomely paid to run Eric's empire were

assured that their positions were safe, no one thought much about Eric at

all. 

 

	********* 

 

	"Very good Eric.  Please walk to the mirror and curtsey." 

 

	Eric teetered in his seven inch heels.  His feet were arched "en point" by

the ballet boots.  Carefully, he minced to the full length mirror and

executed a tremoring curtsey.  A smile never left his face. 

 

	"Very nice indeed, Eric.  Now show me your new steps." 

 

	Eric first shimmied his narrow hips in gentle circles.  His arched back

jiggled the tiny titties on his chest.  The limp penis at his crotch

bounced and jiggled ludicrously, already much diminished by the thrice

daily hormone dose. 

 

	"Now sing your song, Eric." 

 

	Embarrassed, he stammered in his now sweet feminine voice, "Watch me

dance.  Watch me prance.  I want to rub my ass on your pants." 

 

	"See me strut.  I'm a slut.  Watch me preen.  I won't rest `til I taste

your cream."  Near tears, leg muscles burning from their bizarre exertion,

Eric repeated his lewd ditty. 

 

	"Much better, my sweet thing.  The tears were a nice touch. Now beg me to

give you an extra-big shot of girl juice.  I want you to beg for titties,

big girl titties to flaunt for the boys." 

 

	Eric had first come to strapped to a hospital bed.  Gagged, catheterized,

restrained, he laid there as one doctor after another visited, made notes

and left.  No one paid any attention to his struggles.  The nurses merely

kept him clean, exercised by massage, and fed.  The doctors prodded and

checked but no one seemed to be doing anything. 

 

	The shots had started.  First, one on the hour, followed by every other

hour.  It had dropped off to one with every meal.  His body seemed to burn

sometimes.  He felt so hot!  His nipples and his penis suffered an

excruciating irritation. 

 

	The mouth gag held two tubes in place.  One carried water, the other a

gooey mush.  Forced feeding kept his belly full, but a wide belt kept his

waist restricted and his back straight. 

 

	How long had he lain like that? 

 

	Days?  No, it had been much longer.  Weeks?  Not enough.  Had to have been

two months maybe more.  The room had no window.  Eric couldn't count the

days. Time lost it's meaning as day and night became a function of when he

had last fallen asleep. 

 

	The doctors seemed satisfied.  The straps were coming off. The gag was

out!  Eric looked down and vomited. 

 

	Two shapely breasts hung heavily from his chest.  Shapely indeed, he now

possessed magnificent 36-DD breasts.  The nurses ignored the acrid vomitus

as they stood the patient up.  Eric could see himself in the mirror.  More

than breasts, he also had a very narrow waist and wide hips.  His skin was

creamy and his hair had already grown out to below his shoulders. 

 

	Perhaps as a cruel jest, nothing had been done to Eric's face. True, his

beard was gone, a centerfold body aside, his was a decidedly mannish face,

unattractive at best. 

 

	Alexis had been there when the doctor explained all the things that were

going to be done to Eric.  A nose job, face lift, upper lip and cheek

implants, collagen injections, eye shaping, ear shaping, chemical skin

bleaching, capped teeth, and jaw reshaping. 

 

	They were going to start with the nose, lips, and eyes. Alexis was making

suggestions but the sedative was making it all too fuzzy for Eric to

follow. 

 

	"I don't want big lips, I don't ..." 

 

	********* 

 

	"Eric, see who's at the front door." 

 

	Eric gave a little shudder.  He hated to have anyone look at him.  But it

wasn't his place to complain.  About anything!  Giving his breasts a hefty

inward and upward shove, causing a deep cleavage to split his chest, Eric

wiggled in his heels to obey his mistress. 

 

	Oh no!  It's the pool boy.  Tanned and muscular, Todd from Poolz surveyed

the creature that answered the door.  Her nationality intrigued him.  Her

extremely long, curly hair, dark brown with red highlights, the oversized,

too generous mouth, the preposterously extravagant figure, all suggested a

Mediterranean background. 

 

	But the blunt nose suggested a black heritage, while the slanted eyes,

implied some oriental ancestry.  A real mixed breed, this one.  And crazy

mixed up also. 

 

	Eric knew what was expected.  Cooing, he traced an inch long red

fingernail up the thickening mound in his vistor's pants.  His skirt rode

up his thighs, letting the shrunken vestige of his penis, with it's empty

scrotum, show through the lace of his panties. 

 

	While Todd cleaned the pool, Eric slowly stripped and bent over a pool

chair.  His groans of ectasy were only matched by the slurping of his

talented mouth as he licked his lover of the moment clean. 

 

	"Eric, I told you I wanted some facial cum shots.  You swallowed this

time.  Next time, I want you to hose your face with cum. Understand?" 

 

	Miserable and naked, Eric allowed Mistress Lorna to run a chain through

his cock ring and tie that useless member to the floor.  Trapped on hands

and knees, he endured his whipping and remembered.  That afternoon, the

mailman made a spectacular mess of his erotically confused features. 

 

	"So, where are we?"  Gone was the blonde bimbo, Alii.  In her place was an

assured young business woman, Alexis Lane Katt, firmly in control of her

husband's affairs and readying to strike out on her own. 

 

	Lorna Reina sat across from her client, relaxed.  A large aluminum

suitcase was tucked be her feet.  $10,000,000 in $20's, counted, and paid. 

Business was business.  First, get paid. 

 

	"As you can see, Mrs. Katt, substantial progress has been made." 

Gesturing, Lorna called Eric up to the desk. 

 

	It all seemed familiar in some way.  This office, the decorations, the

woman behind the desk.  Eric couldn't remember how.  In fact, he didn't

remember much, just what he had been taught. 

 

	"Mee nayhme ees E-reeh-kah.  Berry eh-plees to meeh-ting juuh." 

 

	Eric smiled and curtseyed, that fact that his skirt was flashing glimpses

of his panties made no impression on him.  He would expose much more at the

slightest gesture from his Mistress. 

 

	"Oh, that accent!  Where did you come up with that?" 

 

	"Well, think of it as protective coloration.  Someone might believe a

woman who claimed to be Eric Katt, forcibly feminized, if she sounded like

Eric, acted like Eric, and could make an impression like Eric might." 

 

	"But if she looked like an erotic cartoon and talked like there should be

subtitles running past her when she opens her mouth, then tell me, who

would ever take such a ridiculous female seriously?" 

 

	"How much sexual experince has he had?" 

 

	"Nothing really.  Routine sex with selected partners. Straight sex,

nothing too bizarre." 

 

	"Couldn't you maybe .. uh, you know, make him really freaky? Into rubber

or something?  Bondage, and things like that?" 

 

	"Certainly, anything can be done at this point, but it will require my

time, which is, of course, only for sale." 

 

	"How much?" 

 

	"One Million, cash." 

 

	"Done.  Now here's what I have in mind." 

 

	********* 

 

	Eric felt his vibrators click on.  The strap running from the front of his

corset, back through his legs to buckle in the small of his back, made

removing them impossible.  Feverishly, he rubbed his leather clad hands

over his bare breasts. 

 

	Hooking his thumbs through his nipple rings, he tugged the fat globes up

past his shoulders, seemingly to hang himself by his own udders.  The

vibrations were building. 

 

	Dropping the nipple rings over a chromed hook on the wall, Eric slipped

the ping pong paddles from their holsters on his hips and began to spank

himself, deliberately, slowly, with increasing force. 

 

	Quickly, his jiggling ass reddened.  The weight tied to his cock ring

bounced against his legs, tugging the flaccid organ, and threatening to rip

away the last relic of his manhood. 

 

	Faster, harder, jumping to put more strain on his tortured nipples, Eric

tried to beat the inexorable tick of the twin vibrators.  He was there ..

nearly there .. almost, almost ... 

 

	A cruel shock of electricity jolted through his passages.  The doctors had

given him a vagina.  It could accommodate practically anything; cock,

dildo, even a fist!  They had, however, left him a penis, now a sort of

gigantic clitoris.  Eric had become a bisexed freak.  The vicious lances of

electrical pain flowed freely from rectum to vagina and back, causing Eric

to twitch uncontrollably. 

 

	SMACK.  SMACK.  SMACK., SMACK, SMACKSMACKSMACKSMACK! 

 

	Mindlessly, Eric kept up the pummeling of his own ass until, overwhelmed

by sensation, his orgasm came.  Roiling waves of pleasure, based in

terrible pain, blotted out any thought from his mind.  His hands dropped

the paddles and ran up and down his corseted torso, the rubber sweat slick

under his fingers. 

 

	Seated at his makeup table, Eric repaired the damage.  He had an hour to

be ready for another orgasm.  The clock was already ticking.  There was

barely enough time.  If his makeup wasn't just right, if he wasn't wearing

the right clothes, if he didn't have on leather gloves to massage his tits,

or high heels, or any one of a myriad preconditioned things, he couldn't

cum.  And, if he failed to cum, the shocks kept going. 

 

	For how long? He didn't know, but he had no desire to find out. 

 

	********* 

 

	"I want to escape." 

 

	Eric hadn't had such a thought in two years.  For much of that time, he'd

forgotten who he was, that is, who he had been. 

 

	"Why had they refreshed all that?" 

 

	Eric knew that he had been Eric Katt, knew that he was now trapped in a

female body, that in reality he was male. 

 

	"Why tell me this?" 

 

	Eric had tried three times to leave.  There were no locks on the doors. 

Each time, he had never made it past the door of his room.  First, it had

been a corset.  Next, picking out the right dress.  Now his makeup was

perfect but he just couldn't seem to get moving. 

 

	"I'll take it a step at a time." 

 

	Eric stepped into the hallway, just to see what was out there. It was

easier to do this by small steps.  Down the hall to the stairwell.   Down

the steps and out to the next floor.  On to the elevator, down to the

ground floor.  It was working, Eric was getting away. 

 

	Three men were standing by the front door.  They were wearing leather.  Oh

God!  Eric could feel himself get wet.  His tiny penis throbbed.  Head

down, he tried to walk past.  A strong hand turned him around and calloused

fingers dug his breasts out of his low-cut dress. 

 

	"Look what we have here boys, prime milk bags.  Looks like she's ready to

go into heat.  What do you say boys?  You "Bulls" ready to service this

here heifer?" 

 

	Eric wanted to resist as they pulled his dress up and put him, on hands

and knees, on a table.  Docilely, he serviced each in turn, front and back,

the smell of the leather and the bruising of their rough play turning him

on. 

 

	Cum splattered and disheveled, Eric watched them leave laughing.  He was

Eric Katt inside, dammit he was and she, goddammit *HE*, could leave

whenever he wanted. 

 

	But not like this.  My hair, my face!  I must look a wreck. I'll just fix

myself up and then I'll go. 

 

	Eric tried the next day and every day after that for a month. He never got

out of the lobby. 

 

	********* 

 

	Alexis watched, amused, as Eric stood naked, surrounded by kinky fetish

gear.  What to put on first?  Lorna had said this would be the ultimate

demonstration. 

 

	Eric Katt, who once made decisions that affected millions, was now an all

tits and ass bimbo who couldn't decide whether to deck herself out in

sluttish rubber or kinky leather. 

 

	"Why don't you try the pink hot pants?" Alexis suggested. 

 

	Grateful that someone had broken the confusion that enveloped him, Eric

began the arduous process of squeezing his stout hips into the tiny

garment. 

 

	"He seems very domesticated, Lorna.  I'm impressed." 

 

	"Does he meet to your satisfaction, both as to his original feminization

and his .. uh, how shall we say, .. custom modifications?" 

 

	"Lord yes!  he's wilder than anything I ever dreamed of.   All those times

Eric had my tits hanging out, fending off the hands of his drunken buddies.

 Now he can enjoy the experience.  Yes, he'll do just fine as "Erica." 

 

	"I'm so glad you find him suitable.  I have worked so hard. It's so

difficult, you know, to impose new behaviors, new attitudes, without

extinguishing the basic talents.  Eric, for instance." 

 

	Lorna took out a cigarette, lit it, and continued. 

 

	"Eric has a natural talent for making money.  Of course, that talent

needed to be harnessed and put to work for females.  While it would be nice

for you to have Erica at your beck and call, it will be so much nicer to

have Eric making money for me." 

 

	Alexis tried to stand up.  She was woozy, hot, and the room was spinning. 

 

	"I've made a few modifications of my own, you see.  Eric, as Erica, is

going to be your assistant.  He'll be running things while you're on

vacation.  Quite smoothly, I'd bet.  After all, it was his company." 

 

	Lorna stepped back to avoid Alexis' clawing fingers. Staggering, the

drugged female collapsed to her knees. 

 

	"Meanwhile, you have a debt to pay me.  A very significant debt." 

 

	********* 

 

	The intercom.  Her last meeting was cancelled.  It was time to go home. 

 

	Alli and Eric minced in.  Husband and wife were now identical twins. 

There were a few improvements, of course.  The accents were gone, as well

as the remains of Eric's manhood.  It got in the way of business, but their

bustlines were stupendous.  40-FF's. Impossible to support unless wearing

well engineered foundations. Watching the two enter was like seeing two

cars from the fifties with jutting headlights. 

 

	The intelligence was still there.  It had to be to keep Lorna in touch

with her newly acquired empire.  But there were other things.  Alii looked

at her mistress with unbridled lust.  The poor girl was now an obsessive

lesbian.  Eric, on the other hand, was now an uncontrollable slut.  He

couldn't keep his hands off any cock that came by. 

 

	MALES was throwing a dinner in Lorna's honor.  It was going to be

interesting to see who got a bigger reaction from the crowd when they

danced - Alii or Eric.  Each had a little song to sing and a dance to do. 

 

	There would be a live sex show including, even, an animal act. It would be

fitting somehow to see Eric Katt, the takeover king, being taken over by a

donkey. 

 

	There was a brothel in the hills north of Acapulco where the girls were

taught a sort of naked Flamenco.  The pale, slim, Anglo girls, kidnapped

form the tourist beaches, were particularly humiliated by the lewd costume

and the heel pounding dance they were forced to learn.  The beat of the

heels serving to drive the dildos they wore deep into their, soon to be,

well worn slits. 

 

	It might be fun to send my pair South for the season to take dancing

lessons.  Lorna sat back and pictured it in her mind.  The see-through,

triple tiered, skirts, their ponderously moving breasts, cries of "Ole!" in

the background.  She picked up the phone and began to dial. 



