What's Your Perversion?

What's Your Perversion?
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Saturday, July 10, 2010

Forced Femme Stories: "Slumber Party Nightmare"

So many sissy bois love forced femme stories and this sissy cockmilker is no exception.

Like all media, there are common themes in many of these stories. I prefer those stories where the characters are not simply feminized physically but also transformed mentally. Often the best stories are those where the character is tricked or cajoled into it. Hypnosis can also be a wonderful device plot, but only when done right. Regardless of the method used, I tend to like the stories where the character ends up becoming a simpering, ultra-feminine bimbo.

Below is one of the earlier stories that I found on the Internet that I really liked. "Slumber Party Nightmare" was originally released anonymously in the mid-to-late 1990s and was re-issued by someone else who re-edited it and extended the ending.

After reading it, please let me know what you think. If you have any stories or authors that really make your sissy hole quiver, please do tell!

~Sarah



SLUMBER PARTY NIGHTMARE (reedited)


"Are you sure this is okay?" Mark Walters asked, creeping through the shrubbery at sixteen-year-old Linda Mason's house. At midnight on a Friday night, he'd rather be at home watching music videos. He pushed his longish, brown hair out of his eyes.

"Trust me," his best friend Sam Grenwald smiled back. "Look. Crashing slumber parties is... I mean, it's traditional. Like TP'ing houses and soaping windows on Halloween. They'd be pissed if we didn't show up." He waited a second for Mark's expression, then added, "Besides, Mary Cartland is in there."

Sam was sweet on Linda Mason, and Mark had a crush on her best friend, pretty Mary Cartland. He never had the nerve to talk to her beyond a quick "Hi, Mary" in the hall at school, and sometimes he wanted to be ten years old again so he could simply ride his bike with no hands by her house. But his older brother spoke enthusiastically about panty- raids at the college he went to, so Mark accepted this passage from child to man.  Mark had plans of going to the same college that his brother went to, they was both going to follow in their father's foot steps and be electrical engineers.

"So, what do we do?" Mark whispered.

Sam grinned. "We just look in a window and make faces when they see us. They'll scream and stuff, and we run like hell. Or maybe get invited in for a while."

"But they'll know it's us."

"That's the whole idea, stupid. It shows we like 'em."

"I still think this is dumb," Mark complained, but any opportunity to see Mary Cartland -- maybe naked...

The two crept close to the big picture window at the front of the house. The rustling of the yews sounded like a jet plane, but they clearly heard female voices talking and giggling. "When I count three," Sam hissed in Mark's ear, "we jump up and look. Maybe we'll get a beaver shot."

"Okay," Mark said, his hands sweaty and his heart pounding. He wasn't sure what a fabled beaver shot was.

"One...Two --"

Suddenly, Mark and Sam were roughly jerked up by their collars. Flailing around, they saw the policeman that had them in his clutches. Anticipation rapidly turned to fear.

"What are you two doing out here?" the cop demanded.

"Nothing, Officer," Sam stuttered. "We were just --"

Before he could explain, the front door opened, spilling bright inside light over the front of the house. The cop jerked Mark and Sam to their feet and hustled them onto the porch. Mrs. Mason was standing in the open doorway, six giggling girls crowded behind her.

"Here's your prowlers, Ma'am," the cop stated. "Caught 'em right outside the window."

Mark's face heated and Sam wanted to sink into the ground. They were in trouble.

"Why, you're the Walters boy, aren't you?" Mrs. Mason asked. "And aren't you a Grenwald? I know both your parents from the PTA."

Both boys sensed the chance to apologize and forget the whole thing quickly evaporate.

Mrs. Mason smiled. "It's all right, Officer. You see, my daughter's having a slumber party over the weekend. You know how boys are."

"Yes, Ma'am," the cop returned, smiling because of his memories of slumber parties he had invaded as a boy. "But I have to make a report, probably call their parents."

"They didn't mean any harm, I'm sure," Mrs. Mason said.

"Throw 'em in jail!" one of the girls hiding behind Linda's mom shouted. The others erupted in giggles.

"Girls, that wouldn't be nice. Officer, what if I call their parents? Would you have to make a report?"

The cop thought a minute, then replied "I guess it would be all right." He shook the two boys and warned, "I don't want to see you two skulking around houses again, you hear? Next time, you go down to the station!"

"Yes, Officer," both boys muttered. "We're sorry," Mark finished. He and Sam were relieved, certain that they could explain it to their parents -- especially the fathers.

"Then come in, boys," Mrs. Mason invited. The cop gave them a shove toward the door. "Thank you very much, Officer," Mrs. Mason said. The cop tipped his hat, turned and walked back to his car, happy that he wouldn't have to fill out a long report.

Mrs. Mason shepherded Mark and Sam inside and closed the door. The boys blushed, looking at the floor as the scantily-clad girls gawked and tittered. "Sit over there, boys," Mrs. Mason suggested, her smile waning. Sam and Mark walked into the living room strewn with sleeping bags and fashion magazines and sat on the couch. The six girls circled them, arms folded and eyes hard. Mrs. Mason left the room.

"You've got a lot of nerve spying on us, Mark Walters," Mary Cartland accused, her arms crossed over her already impressive chest. Mark's face got hotter.

"And you too, Sam Grenwald," Linda Mason scolded, her long, shapely legs visible under her big T-shirt. "What did you think you were going to see?" Sam squirmed, trying to keep his eyes off her tits.

There was no way they could admit what they had hoped to see, so they mumbled the time-honored "I dunno" in unison.

Before the interrogation could continue, Mrs. Mason strolled back into the living room, her smile wider. "It's all arranged with your parents," she stated. "I've told them that you two decided to go on the camping trip with my husband and son. They don't expect you until Sunday night."

Mark and Sam locked eyes, their mouths dropping. "Uh, what to you mean, Sunday night, Mrs. Mason?" Sam asked.

"Why, you boys were so anxious to see what was going on at Linda's slumber party. I thought you'd like to stay.

"But, Mother!" Linda protested.

"Now, Linda. Where are your manners? I'm sure you can fit two more girls in, can't you?"

"Girls?" Sam choked.

"But we're not girls!" Mark blurted, his heart stalling in mid-beat.

The girls got the message faster than mark or Sam. They giggled, whispering plans for the weekend loudly to each other.

"That's a great idea!" Linda chortled. "We'll have so much fun, trying on clothes and makeup," she aimed at Mark.

"Talking about boys!" Mary tittered.

"This is stupid," Sam said, jumping to his feet. "We don't have to put up with this. C'mon, Mark."

Mark was totally shamed by the unwanted attention of the six girls discussing what they were going to do with him. Time to leave. He stood.

The girls crowded around them, cutting off the route to the door.

"Let's tear off their clothes and make 'em walk home," one suggested.

"Or make them our slaves for the weekend," another threatened.

"Now, girls," Mrs. Mason said sharply. "That's not ladylike. Now I told you that I might hypnotize one or two of you tonight, remember?" Mrs. Mason was a psychiatrist. "I think it's only polite that we let the two new girls go first.

The word 'hypnotize' slammed imagined visions of being forced to act like a chicken into Sam and Mark, but those were quickly quenched with their absolute certainty that it couldn't be done to them.

"Do it to them, Mom!"

"Yeah, Mrs. Mason. Put 'em under!"

Sam and Mark began to build mental resistance to a spinning coin, a swinging gold watch and the admonition "You're getting sleepy."

"You can't hypnotize me," Sam affirmed, sensing a chance to impress the girls. "Go ahead. Wave a watch in front of me, you'll see."

Mrs. Mason turned and smiled at him. "Do I detect a challenge to my professional skills, young lady?"

"Don't call me that!" Sam snapped. "Everybody knows you can't hypnotize somebody against their will.

"Yeah," Mark agreed uncertainly.

"But you don't understand," Mrs. Mason said in a malevolent tone, "When I'm finished with you, you won't have a will."

Her voice sent a shiver down their spines. It was time to go, and a second later they bolted for the door. Mark had his hand on the knob when Linda tackled him. Before he could react, two other girls landed on him. Sam didn't even get that far.

Loathe to hit a girl, both boys hesitated, didn't fight back very hard, then discovered that it was too late. Always certain that girls were weak, they were astounded by the strength of the female hands holding them down.

Mrs. Mason slipped out of the room, her anger at the two smug boys smoldering. She entered her home office, opened a locked medicine cabinet and prepared two hypodermics with a milky fluid. Coming back into the living room, she noted that Sam and Mark still had defiant expressions and smiled.

"Let go!" Mark gasped, his arms and legs pinned.

"I don't wanna get rough with you," Sam threatened helplessly.

Mrs. Mason slowly approached, holding the syringes high in the air. Both boys froze, their minds and limbs paralyzed with terror. Sam squealed when the dripping needle approached his arm. He could only watch in horror as it entered his flesh and Mrs. Mason injected the milky fluid into him.

After seeing Sam injected, Mark thrashed and kicked, trying to get free. He got an arm loose but two girls pounced on it, stretching it out for the needle. "I wanna go home!" he blubbered as the milky liquid oozed into his vein.

A minute later, Mrs. Mason suggested, "You can let them up now, girls." They backed away, ready to attack again should the boys show any signs of fight. Mark rolled over and looked as Sam, each boy waiting for some bizarre effects from the injection, but they felt pretty normal. As if by some silent, shared countdown, both boys gained their feet and sprinted for the door.

"Freeze!" Mrs. Mason commanded.

Their brains were operating their arms and legs, bringing them towards the door and freedom -- but they weren't moving. Mrs. Mason walked in front of the two rigid boys. "You see, only charlatans use a spinning coin or a dangling watch. Science has provided a much better method."

"Please return to the couch," she suggested, and Mark and Sam were compelled to obey, their minds screaming defiance. The six girls parted to let them by, watching the boys with astonishment. When the boys were seated on the couch, the girls crowded around them, waving their hands and snapping their fingers. They weren't convinced.

"Are they really in a trance?" Mary asked.

"They can't hear us or anything?" another chimed in.

"Oh, they can hear you just find," Mrs. Mason informed them, stepping in front of the boys. "But just so they aren't disappointed: You are getting sleepy. Your eyelids are getting heavy."

Mark and Sam couldn't stop their eyes from shutting, their minds getting cottony.

The girls fell back and sat in a semicircle around the victims. "The drug takes about ten minutes for the full effect, but you can see it's already working. Given in small doses, this drug puts the subject in a trance somewhat like hypnotism, but in larger doses, it forces the subconscious open. I gave them a very large dose. I will be able to find certain behavior patterns and modify them."

The girls huddled together, whispering and gasping.

Mark and Sam heard but didn't quite understand her, their terror was rising. But they couldn't move.

"You may open your eyes now," Mrs. Mason said, and their eyes fluttered open. She leaned over and studied their blank faces, then stood back. "They're almost ready. In a few minutes, whatever I tell them, they will have to believe. They have no choice."

The assembled girls stared at the two helpless boys for a time, then one said, "Make them do something!"

"Let's turn them into chickens," Mary suggested.

"No, let's make them bark like dogs," another girl suggested.

"I think we should turn them into slaves and make them clean our rooms," a third girl wanted.

"No," Linda said seriously, with a hint of evil, "They wanted to see what it was like at my slumber party, so let's make them join in. Mom, can you make them more like us?"

Gleeful screams and giggles made it unanimous.

"Certainly," Mrs. Mason agreed. She stepped in front of Mark. "I think that's a fine idea. First those names just won't do, will they?" Glaring at Mark, she demanded, "Do you hear me?"

"Yes," Mark returned flatly.

"Fine. What is your name?"

"Mark David Walters."

"No, that is not correct," Mrs. Mason said sternly. She pondered for a moment, then grinned. "Your name is Melissa Ann Walters. You have no memory of ever being named anything but Melissa Ann. Your name has always been Melissa Ann, isn't that right?"

"Yes," Mark intoned.

"Now, what is your name?"

"Melissa Ann Walters."

The girls giggled ant poked each other.

Sam couldn't believe what he had just heard, then terror gripped him when he understood that he was next.

"And you," Mrs. Mason pointed to Sam. "What is your name?"

"Samuel Lawrence Grenwald," he replied, fighting not to.

"No, that is incorrect. Your name is Stephanie Sue Grenwald. Your name has always been Stephanie Sue. You have no memory of any name but Stephanie Sue Grenwald. Your name has always been Stephanie, right?"

As much as he wanted to, Sam could not conceive or imagine ever having a different name. "Yes."

"What is your name?"

"Stephanie Sue Grenwald," flowed effortlessly from his mind and out of his mouth.

Concentrating so hard that it hurt, neither boy could remember ever having a different name.

The girls erupted in laughter and applause.

"Stephanie, Melissa. Please stand and take all of your clothes off," Mrs. Mason urged.

Unable to resist, both boys pulled T-shirts, jeans, sneakers, socks and shorts off until they were stark naked.

"That dose will be wearing off soon," Mrs. Mason said. "And it's time you girls got some sleep. But I think these two need to learn some modesty, don't you?"

The girls eagerly agreed. Sam and Mark stood motionless, their minds exploding with shame at being naked in front of six girls and frustration at being helpless.

"Look!" one girl exclaimed, "Their thingies are getting hard."

Sure enough, and as much as they tried to stop it, Mark and Sam were getting erections.

"Why, we can't have that among the girls here," Mrs. Mason stated amid the pointing and giggling. She approached Mark and changed her tone to careful command. "Melissa, do you hear me?"

"Yes," Mark said against his will.

"Melissa, you cannot have an erection, now or ever again. You do not have a penis. Your testicles will retract into your abdomen where they belong, your penis gone. You may urinate through it, but it can never become erect."

Mark's saw his balls slowly deflate and shrink, and his cock getting smaller and smaller. In a few minutes, where Mark's balls had been was smooth and flat, all Mark saw of his was penis a protruding nub.  To Sam everything looked normal.

Minutes after Mark, Sam, thought his male genitals were gone, too. "Melissa and Stephanie," Mrs Mason continued, "since, you have no penises, you have no need for any male hormones.  You body will not produce any more male hormones, it will produce only female hormones, and it will produce them at a very large rate.  Your body will produce female hormones, in the highest rate a woman can produce hormones and still be normal."

"That's better," Mrs. Mason concluded. "Stephanie? Listen carefully to me, dear. You have very nice breasts, and you're very proud of them. You feel on your chest, don't you?"

Sam was suddenly aware of a tightness on his chest.

"Your breasts are quite large and heavy. You have big nipples. You feel big, heavy boobs on your chest, D cup size and you are very proud of them."

Sam saw his nipples darkened and expanded.  Sam shifted his posture like he had a weight on his chest.

She turned to Mark next. As the girls watched in awed silence, Mrs. Mason told him, "Melissa, dear. You have large breasts, D cup size."  Mark felt his chest expand and get heavier and heavier, his nipples jutting out like little fingers.

"Now, Melissa, dear," Mrs. Mason prompted, "Hold your boobs out for us to see. You too, Stephanie."

Sam and mark helplessly cupped their imagined tits, hands six inches away from his chest. They felt soft, heavy flesh.

"And you have such lovely figures, Melissa and Stephanie. Your waists are very narrow and thin, your hips are wide and round, your rear ends are quite round and full. It is also nice that both you are exactly the same height.  It's great that you are both 5 foot 2 inches tall."  Mark was a bit taller than Sam, both boys was tall for their age. Without Mrs. Mason's suggestion they would have both been over 6 feet in a few years.

"When you think of yourselves, you will now think of yourselves as petite," Mrs. Mason continued.

The boys felt different.  They felt smaller and seemed to have to look up to some of the taller girls.

Sam could feel his perception of his waist getting trim, his hips and ass ballooning as if it were really happening.

Mark joined him as Mrs. Mason continued to command them to have very womanly figures.

"Now, Melissa and Stephanie," Mrs. Mason commanded, "It's not nice for young ladies to stand around naked. You are both very embarrassed! Cover yourselves this instant!"

Mark and Sam, fueled by induced shame, instinctively thrust their arms thrust their hands over their crotches.

"Look at yourselves are you covering yourselves properly?" Mrs Mason inquired.

Sam and Mark looked again, and this time they thrust one of thier hands over their chests too.

"Don't forget you must keep your chests covered in public, like all young ladies your age.  Since you have such large busts, you must always wear a bra but in a few months you will change your mind and decide that you like the feel of your large giggling breasts free in you clothes.  Then you will go from time to time without your bra, but that will be another time."

Sam and Mark suddenly felt undressed without their brassieres.

"Since you now have no penis and a narrow waist only woman's panties fit you.  You also love the feel of nylon, satin and lace and other soft materials on your naked buttocks and crotch."

Sam and Mark still felt naked, but now instead of wanting to wear boys' briefs and a T-shirt they craved bras with matching panties.

"Just like with their genitals, they have to believe what I've told them," Mrs. Mason informed the girls. "In a very short time, their bodies will change to fit the way I've programmed them, and at that time, when they need them the most, they'll stop wearing bras."  Mrs. Mason gave the girls an evil wink.

"You mean they'll look like girls?"

Mrs. Mason grinned. "A month from now, Melissa and Stephanie will be built like centerfolds."

The girls stared at each other with a mixture of astonishment and glee.

That's enough for tonight, I think," Mrs. Mason announced. "Do we have something for Stephanie and Melissa to wear?"

A quick trip to Linda's room produced two silky, babydoll nighties. "Put this on," her mother commanded Mark, handing him a pale blue one. The little panties were smooth on his stomach and between his legs. Sam received a pink one. Though they were mortified wearing girl's clothes, they were anxious to cover their nakedness. Although the material did feel smooth and convertible against their butts.

"Stephanie and Melissa," Mrs. Mason stated, "You two will curl up on that couch and sleep until I wake you."

The boys obeyed.

"They won't remember being under the drug's influence, but I've permanently altered their behavior and in time their bodies also."

The girls eventually crawled into their sleeping bags and after an hour of giggling, they fell asleep.

It was late Saturday morning when Mrs. Mason came down from her bedroom, some of the girls were awake, but most still slept. Mrs. Mason walked to the couch where Mark and Sam were curled around each other and commanded, "Wake up!"

Sam and Mark snapped awake. It took them a few seconds to decipher where they were and a moment for the memories of the night before to flow into their minds. Mark jumped up, suddenly aware that his friend Sam was wearing a pink nightie. "Sam? What the hell...?"

Sam looked funny, then confused. "Who's Sam?"

"You are, for Christ's sake!" Mark stated, now aware that he was dressed in a blue nightie. "Holy fuck! Sam, what's going on here?"

"Why are you calling me Sam? My name's Stephanie, you idiot." He swung his bare legs off the couch, perceiving a strange fullness in his chest, hips and rear end. "You look like a fag wearing that."

"Melissa!" Mrs. Mason said sharply. Mark turned. "The others are still sleeping, and such language. But we'll cure that today, I guarantee you both. Now please use the bathroom while you have the chance."

Mark and Sam walked warily to the downstairs bathroom, staring at each other's lacy nightwear. "What the hell's going on here?" Mark hissed.

"I don't know," Sam admitted. "I remember we were grabbed by that cop, and Linda's mom was going to call our parents. This has got to be some kind of joke."

"Then how come you said your name is Stephanie?" Mark prodded.

"Because it is," Sam insisted. "My name has always been Stephanie."

"Yeah, right. Just like my name has always been Melissa."

Both boys got horrified looks. "I know I don't have a girl's name, but it's all I can remember! What's my name?"

"Mark."

"No, that's not right. I'd know if I was Mark, wouldn't I?"

Still puzzled, Mark stepped into the bathroom and closed the door. He stood in front of the toilet, chagrined at the silky nightie but for some strange reason more embarrassed to be seen without it. He stared straight ahead, gingerly lifted the hem and pushed the panties down, his fingers searching. His heart stopped. Snapping his head down, he pulled the panties down, stared, then put his hand between his legs.

"Oh, Jesus!" he wailed. "My cock is gone!"

Sam burst into the bathroom. "What's wrong?"

"My cock is gone," Mark repeated mutely.

Mark jerked his panties down and stared in horror at his empty crotch. "Jesus. They castrated me!"

Sam said, "What are you talking about, your dick is right there!!!"

Mark was crying, he couldn't see, and never would again see, his penis which Sam could see quite plainly. If Sam had checked his penis, he would think that his was gone too, but before he could, Mark's cries of anguish woke the rest of the girls, who quickly crowded around the open door. Sudden shame made Mark jerk his panties up and push through the girls.

"We've got to get out of here," Sam told Mark.

"We can't go out like this!" Mark noted.

"Our clothes have to be around here somewhere. Look, whatever they did to us, it's just a joke, right?"

Calming, Sam concluded, "I mean, they won't really hurt us. They'll probably give us our clothes back when the joke gets old."

"But what about...?"

 "I don't know. Let's just stay cool until they let us go, okay, Mark?"

"My name's Melissa," Mark insisted.

Mark and Sam huddled in the bathroom and warily waited for their nightmare to end. Mrs. Mason forced the door open and pushed them into the living room. Then Linda Mason's friends pulled off their pajamas and started getting dressed right in front of the astonished boys. Leering at the naked girls, memory and instinct told them they should have boners hard enough to drive nails. But they felt nothing between their legs. When the girls were dressed, Mrs. Mason came back in with two syringes in her hand.

As before, Mark and Sam bolted, not caring if they had to escape wearing only nighties. Sam got to his feet, but a strange weight on his chest and perception of mass around his hips and rear end made him stumble. Mark crashed on top of him. And as before, the girls easily held them, some of the girls even seemed bigger than them.  Mrs. Mason injected them while the girls held them down.

They were sitting on the couch as she addressed them: "Today, Melissa and Stephanie, we're going to help you to be proper young ladies."

The six girls formed a circle on the floor, evil smirks on their pretty faces.

"First, ladies pee sitting down, you have always went to the bathroom sitting down.  Your bodies have always been made to make peeing sitting down natural.  It has always been natural for you to pee sitting down.  Have you ever peed standing up?

" No, of course not" Sam said with an incredulous look on his face, as if peeing standing up was the silliest thing he had ever heard.

"Second, do you shave your faces?"

"Yes"

"No, you don't, no hair grows on you faces.  Your skin is soft and smooth.  Your features are small and refined. Also young ladies do not allow hair to grow  on their legs or in their armpits. From now on, you will both consider anything but smooth, hairless legs and armpits utterly gross and disgusting. You can't remember ever feeling any other way."

Mark and Sam gazed down at their hairy legs, faces twisted with repugnance.

"Melissa and Samantha you will never cuss again.  When you get mad the worse things you can say are 'Oh fudge' and 'fiddlesticks'".

"Now, we will learn to sit and act like ladies."

The girls criticized and offered suggestions as Sam and Mark were commanded to stand and sit again and again until they kept their knees together and their ankles crossed, then sensuously crossed their legs at their knees.

"Melissa and Stephanie," Mrs. Mason stated sternly. "You will sit that way from now on. You will conduct yourselves as young ladies at all times. You have no memory of sitting and standing or talking any other way, do you?"

"No," they answered mutely, their memories of sitting like boys erased from their minds.

"Now we'll work on your walk."

Sam and mark paraded up and down, remarks from the girls altering the way they walked until their shoulders were back, their pelvis tilted forward and their hips and asses wriggling.

"Melissa and Stephanie," Mrs. Mason reinforced, "You will walk this way from now on. You don't know of any other way to do it, do you?"

"No," they answered, and their ability to walk any other way except as sexy young ladies was completely forgotten.

They were told to sit back on the couch. Mark eased back, his knees together, his ankles crossing naturally. Sam leaned forward, his legs crossing at his knees, hit foot tucked behind his ankle.

"Now, Stephanie and Melissa," Mrs. Mason began again, "Do you like football?"

"Yes," they answered.

"No, you don't. You aren't the least bit interested in most sports. You have no memory of ever being interested in sports like football, basketball, baseball or hockey. You like sports like figure skating and woman's gymnastics.  You don't like to play any sports but you like have been planning to take step aerobics classes. From now on, sports and cars and all things boys are interested in are too difficult for you to understand. You can't remember ever being interested in anything that boys do, can you?"

"No," the boys agreed.

"Do you like movies?"

"Yes, we like movies"

"What type?"

Sam and Mark both told Mrs. Mason the type of movies they liked.  It was mostly action/adventure movies and gross- out horror movies."

"That will not do," said Mrs. Mason, "you both love romances and any G rated movie created by Disney. Melissa your idea of a good movie is one in which you can feel for the characters and cry in joy or sorrow right along with the main heroine.  Melissa your all time favorite movie is Bambi, and you always cry your eyes out when they shoot Bambi's mother.  Stephanie you hate action movies, you think they are boring and stupid.  You still like gross-out movies, but you can't look at the screen when the scary things happen.  You must close your eyes and bury your head in the strong protective shoulders of your date.  You can't help yourself but scream in a high feminine pitch when you see the frightening images on the screen.

Mrs. Mason grabbed two glossy fashion magazines from the floor and handed Mark and Sam one each. "Look at these magazines. This is what you're interested in," Mrs. Mason told them. "You have always been interested in fashion magazines. You avidly read every fashion magazine you can get your hands on, don't you?"

"Yes," the boys chanted.

"You just love all the pretty clothes and the makeup and the shoes and everything in those magazines.  You are also very fashion conscience and have to have the latest styles and colors, don't you?"

"Yes"

"You also like girls magazines like Seventeen and Teenbeat.  For the next two months when you read the advice columns in this magazines, and when you read one with who has a name that begins with the same first letter of your names, it will remind you of a time that you had the exact same problem and you will remember your problem and the solution exactly as it is written in the magazine as if it had happened to you. "

Mrs. Mason explained to the other girls that this will give Sam and Mark a history of experiences similar to other girls without Mrs. Mason having to make them up for the boys.  "Now, I will give them the specific likes and dislikes of girls that will grow and change with the times."

"Stephanie, your favorite magazine is seventeen. Every month as its release date nears you can feel anticipation and when you finally get you hands on it, you are filled with joy and happiness and reads it as soon as you are possible.  As you read it, you will agree with everything said in it.  If the magazine says that a new music group is the is greatest, you will agree wholeheartedly and will become instant fans of that group.  If the magazine says most girls like to do something you will also like to do it.  If it says that something is not hot anymore you will quickly lose interest in that thing.  When you grow up and become an adult then Family Circle will become your favorite magazine."

After telling Sam what his favorite magazine is, she gave Mark a similar command except he likes Y&M and when he grows up he will like Good Housekeeping.   She explained to the other girls, "We don't want these girls to be exactly alike do we?"

One of the girls ran into the other room and returned with the latest issues of Seventeen and Y&M.  She held them up for the boys to see, and both boys said almost in unison, "Hey, that is my favorite, can I please read that when you are done?"  Both boys, already obeying the command to conduct themselves, as proper young ladies, asked as politely as they could for the magazines.  When they ate, they would always take small bites and always put a napkin in thier laps.  Hundreds of habits and behavors had been subtlely changed forever, by Mrs Mason's simple command of "You will conduct yourselves as young ladies at all times."

The cover article on the Seventeen magazine was "How to get him to ask you to the prom."   Sam saw this headline and started wondering how he was going to get a boy to ask him to the prom.  Then he thought, "Good thing there is an article in Seventeen.  That magazine has always helped him with all this troubles in the past and it will solve this problem for him also."  Sam smiled to himself.

"When you wake up, you will both be very feminine. You want to be pretty, so you wouldn't think of going out without your makeup. You can't remember ever wanting to be seen without makeup. You love long, polished nails and perfume. In fact, you won't really think of wearing pants any more and the pants you do wear will be designed for women only. No more unisex pants for you.  You want so much to be pretty and feminine, so you will always prefer wear pretty dresses and skirts. Pantyhose or stockings and high heels make you legs and feet feel great when you wear them.  The longer you wear them, the better your legs feel,  isn't that right?"

"Yes."

Mrs. Mason paused, thinking that she had gone far enough with the two upstart boys. Her daughter, Linda, stood up and whispered something in her ear. The woman smiled. "We'll do that one last," she agreed. "The drug will wear off in a few minutes."

As they slowly came back to awareness, Sam and Mark had the intense perception that something wasn't quite right. The first thing Mark noticed was his crossed legs. He knew it wasn't the way he wanted to sit, but couldn't think of any other way to do it. Then he saw his hairy legs and gagged.

"What's wrong, Mark?" Sam asked.

"That hair on my legs. It's gross! And don't call me Mark. I'm Melissa. And how come you're sitting like that?"

Sam was shocked at his friend's bizarre behavior. He was sitting with his knees together, his ankles crossed and his hands folded in his lap. He couldn't figure out what Mark meant. Then he noticed his own hairy legs. "You're right! I can't stand it!"

One of the girls handed Sam a mirror and he stared at his face, wailing, "I look horrible! Anybody got some lipstick?"

Mark was shocked at Sam's request. He grabbed the mirror and regarded his face with disgust. Lipstick would be ridiculous on Sam, but he needed it. "Look at my hair. It's a mess!"

Almost in a panic, the two boys were inconsolable until the six girls offered their help.

In the upstairs bathroom, Sam didn't know why, but he felt much better after he shaved his legs and his underarms. Mark was downstairs spreading Nair all over himself.

"I know," Mary piped in, "Let's do each other's hair."

Sam and Mark didn't understand why the other one enthusiastically offered himself to the skills of the girls. Three hours later, both boys had their brown hair bleached blond and elegantly permed. They kept reminding themselves that their friend should hate it, but they couldn't stop admiring themselves.

The girls split into teams of three each. They plucked and shaped the boys' eyebrows. Sam was sick watching Mark put on mascara, eye shadow, blush and lipstick, but Sam just couldn't stand himself without it. That was the way they always wanted to look.  Mark's makeup highlighted his best feature, his big blue eyes.

One of the girls went to the kitchen and came back with some ice cubes, a potato and a large needle. "Slumber party tradition," she told Sam as she pierced his ears.

"Sam, what are you doing?" Mark shouted, gagging at the sight of his feminized friend. But he knew he looked normal with makeup and permed, bleached hair.

"Don't call me Sam," his friend shot back. "They're turning you into a fag!" He couldn't understand why Mark was acting so weird. It was the most natural thing in the world for him to have pierced ears.

Big hoops were put into Sam's new holes. Mark got heavy, dangling earrings. They admired their own pretty faces and earrings in a mirror and thought the other looked ridiculous.

The six girls left to go shopping. Sam and Mark desperately wanted to go along, but Mrs. Mason made them stay behind. She gave them a Seventeen and Y&M magazines. They eagerly started reading through them, absorbing every word.

Mark read an article about PMS.  It is Y&M and seventeen's style to start articles with stories about girls who have had this problem as a segway into the story.  As he read, Mark felt the same way and by the time he got to the end of the article he remembered having PMS since he was about 12 and had it every month without fail.

Sam on the other hand found out how to get a prom date, and was thinking about how to put these new ideas into use.

When the girls returned, Sam and Mark were studying new makeup ideas and imagining themselves in the dreamy clothes. They were so deep into fashion, they didn't even feel it when the needles entered their arms.

Back on the couch, helplessly under the influence of the hypnotic drug, the boys stared with blank eyes.

"Now, Melissa and Stephanie," Mrs. Mason told them. "Since you two have decided to become blondes, you will have to behave like blondes. And we all know how blondes are."

The girls tittered behind Linda's mother.

"You are both blonde airheads. You smile and giggle a lot."

The boys grew smiles.

"Unfortunately, blondes are rather stupid. When you wake up, the biggest concern you will ever have it where skirt hemlines will be in next season's fashions. The hardest decision you will be able to make is what color nail polish to wear or what dress to put on."

The girls giggled and tittered.

"When it is quiet and still late at night, you will remember what you used to be and what was done to you, but you do not have the ability to be anything but dumb blondes for the rest of your lives.  You will like to date only boys (and later men) who remind you of the boys you once were and men you would have been.  Since you no longer have a penis, you have a vagina and all of the external genitalia that a young woman of your age has.  Your plans for the future are to be to meet the man of your dreams and be a housewife and mother.  When you get home, you will learn all the skills you need to become a housewife and mother.  You will learn how to cook and sew, and keep house and anything you think a housewife should know."

Sam and mark sat on the couch, smiling as the drug and the suggestions destroyed their intellect and ability to reason.

When the drug wore off, they looked at each other and giggled. Deep in their minds, they would always know that they were Sam and Mark, but they behaved like Stephanie and Melissa because they didn't know any other way.

"Here," Mrs. Mason told them, handing their clothes back. "You can go home now."

Mark looked at the clothes he had worn on Friday night. "I can't wear this," he protested. "These shoes are so ugly and smelly."

Sam didn't believe what his friend was saying. Mark always wore jeans and a T-shirt. As for him, there was no way he was going to dress like that.

"That's all you have to wear," Mrs. Mason stated.

Both boys reluctantly put their clothes on, each eager to get home and into a pretty dress. As Mrs. Mason showed them to the door, they stared in disgust at each other.

"Before you go," Mrs. Mason said, "Can either of you tell me who won the football game last week?"

"Huh?" Sam said, no memory or understanding of football left in his mind.

"And, Melissa? What's eight times six?"

Mark smiled vacantly, then giggled. "I don't know."

Walking together down the street to their homes, Mark sniped "You're walking like a girl."

"So are you."

"I can't wait to get these horrible clothes off. I feel naked without a bra."

"Me too."

"Let's go shopping!"

"Yes, let's go to the mall, there will be cute boys there."

"No wait, let's go home and put on some nicer clothes."

Mrs. Mason watched the two intruders wiggle down the street. Six girls came to Linda's slumber party on Friday night. Eight girls left.

Mark, went home, no one was home at his house so he quickly went up to his room.  He looked in all his draws and couldn't find anything to wear.  He decided to go into his parents room and borrow some of his mom's clothes.  His figure, as Mrs. Mason said, had become very womanly and he thought mom clothes fit pretty well, although the bra seemed to be a bit tight.  He put on one of his mom's dresses and some hose and then went downstairs and started reading one of his mom's fashion magazines.  He was still reading them when his parents came home.

"Hi, Mom," Mark said, "I borrowed some of your clothes there was nothing nice and pretty to wear in my room.  I'll have to go shopping tomorrow to get some nice things for me to wear."  He said this as if it was the most natural thing to say.

Mark's mom was stunned into silence, she didn't know what to say.  She saw her son, in her dress, wearing makeup with permed hair and earrings, telling her she needed some of his own pretty clothes.

His dad who right behind his mom was furious.  He told Mark to go upstairs and get out of his mother's clothes and put on his own.

Mark protested that he didn't have anything nice or pretty to wear. But he thought he was in trouble, not for wearing the dress and stuff but for wearing his mom's things without asking her.  A young lady never borrows someone else's things without asking.  Mark went up stairs and took off all his mom's clothes and was standing there naked, not knowing what to wear.  Mark's mom come to his room and asked him what was wrong?

Mark told her, there was no pretty clothes here, and look at those pant, I can't wear them."  She knew he was with Mr. Mason for the weekend, maybe he hit his head or something, Mrs. Mason, might know what was going on..  She took out some of his clothes and told him to put it on.  Mark didn't like being in boys clothes again, but his mom was angry and he couldn't do anything about it. She took him to the bathroom and cleaned the makeup from his face and then, she, Mark and his dad drove to the Mason's house.

Sam's parents was already at the Mason's house when Mark and his parents got there.  Sam was in the living room reading a fashion magazine.  Sam's parents was in the kitchen with Mrs. Mason.  Sam's parents was staring into space listening to what Mrs. Mason was telling them.  Mrs. Mason, had spiked their drinks.  Since, Mrs. Mason wasn't going to make as drastic changes in their parents' minds as they did in Mark and Sam's, she didn't need as big a dose.  A short time later, Mark's parents was in the same condition. Mrs. Mason told Sam and Mark's parents that they have always had daughters named Samantha and Melissa.  About an hour later, everyone went home.

The next day, Samantha and Melissa (Sam and Mark now no longer existed in any way) both dropped out of school.  School was too hard for them and their mom's had a lot to teach them anyway.  They learned how to cook, clean house and sew.  It seemed to take forever to teach them to cook, the recipes was very difficult for them.  But even though they were dumb as a stone, if you show them often enough, every day for weeks and months, even airheads can learn something.

Twenty years later, Melissa Ann Walters-Tipton was meeting her husband at a movie, it was an Die Hard II or was it Die Hard X, what did it matter.  She hated action adventure movies, but her husband loved them and since this was the movie he wanted to see she went along with it.  It's a wife's duty to make her husband happy.  Afterall, he goes to work everyday to support her. Melissa could never do that, she couldn't even balance a checkbook. She let her husband, Mark Tipton, make all her decisions for her.  Mark Tipton is a good looking man.  He is 6'2, 170 lbs, brown hair and blue eyes.  He is an electrical engineer just like his father and grandfather.

Melissa is a very pretty woman, she is short, 5'2, 95 lbs, flawless makeup and very stylishly dressed.  She takes a great pride in her appearance.  But, today she was in a hurry, she got lost on the way to the movie again.  She has been there hundreds of times over the years, but she still gets lost.  Her three adopted children was in the car with her. "Fudge, we'll be late!!!," she told Sam.  Sam, her oldest, was in the front seat, telling his mom, where to turn to get to the movie. Finally, they got to the movie.  Mark was waiting outside, with tickets in hand, telling them to hurry up, the movie was about to begin.

Melissa, couldn't understand what was happening in the movie.  It didn't matter if she did, she hated movies like this anyway.  But Mark had his arm around her and she contented herself by snuggling close to her husband.

Later that night, after her children was asleep, Melissa put on a revealing babydoll nightie.  Mark told her he was feeling frisky tonight. Even though she wasn't feeling much like having sex tonight,  she had cramps and PMS today, she knew it was her duty as a good wife to have sex with Mark anytime he wanted it.  After 15 years of marriage, she knew just how to please him, she would start by letting him fondle her breasts.  She was very proud of her breasts, she has always been proud of them for as long as she can remember.  Then she would give him a blow job and then finally intercourse with her screaming and moaning has seemingly having an earth shattering climax.

After it was done, Mark turned over on his side and went to sleep.  Melissa picked up one of the dozen fashion magazines that she kept by her bed side table.  She loves fashion magazines and could read them all day.  Soon things was very quiet and it all came back to him, he was really Mark.  He was really a man, he should have Mark Tipton's job.  He just had sex with a man and happily swallowed his cum.  He hated his life and what Mrs. Mason did to him years ago.  He wished he would die so his nightmarish life would end. He is going to get out of bed and go to the bathroom, find some drugs and overdose.  He went to get out of bed, by the time she got to the bathroom she picked up a fashion magazine and started reading.  Melissa loved fashion magazines, she could read them all day.

The End.



2 comments:

  1. Now this is an absolute long time favourite of mine! I'm a huge fan of hypnosis and of bimboization and this just hit all the buttons for me! Wonderfully nuanced - including the idea of 'beinging like Barbie' or striving to be a secretary... Wow! Just brilliant stuff!

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  2. Disgusting cunt! Anytime there is a disparity between the severity of the crime and the punishment it is justice denied.

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