textfiles/sex/EROTICA/P/petti.txt

Petticoating the Boss
by Dani

******

CHAPTER ONE: Angela Gets Dominant

	"Angela! Come in here, please!" Steven's voice roared through 
the office door to his assistant. In moments, she was in the 
doorway.
	"Yes, Steve. May I help you?" she asked sweetly.
	Steve looked her over: He had hired Angela, he had to admit, 
mostly on the basis of her looks, but she had turned into the 
most efficient assistant he had ever had. Still she was a woman 
and looked it--although she had recently changed her style of 
dress, it seemed.
	When he hired her, Angela's tastes seemed given to flowery, 
flowing prints, lace and silk. Until the last six months, he 
had never seen her in slacks. Now, she stood before him in a 
black leather business suit with a red satin blouse beneath 
the jacket. The skirt was short and tight--revealing her legs 
to mid-thigh. And those legs were, as always, spectacular, particularly 
now, perched on six-inch red heels. She had cut her hair recently 
as well, now wearing it in a stylish, but somewhat boyish cut. 
Her makeup remained impeccably tasteful--but it seemed more 
severe at the same time. When asked, she had passed the changes 
off as "the shifting winds of fashion," but Steven suspected 
there was more to it.
	"I said, may I help you, Steve?" Angela's repeated query 
broke her boss out of his revery and he pointed to the coffeemaker 
on his credenza. "I'm out of coffee," he said. "Make some more, 
will you?
	"Oh--and that pile of reports needs to be photocopied," 
he added, indicating the two-foot stack of papers on the corner 
of his desk.
	Angela sighed, and moved to the coffeemaker, spooning coffee 
into the machine, getting a pot of water, and then left, picking 
up the reports on her way out. She closed the door behind her 
and leaned against it.
	In many ways, Steven was one of the best employers she 
had ever had--but Angela had grown tired of his constant demands 
for her to perform duties she felt were beneath her title of 
assistant. She made the coffee and copied the reports--but those 
days were soon to end, she thought.
	A little over six months ago, Angela had met Mistress Jennifer 
and Mistress Susan at a little bar on the East Side. Each was 
accompanied by a very intriguing companion. Jennifer introduced 
the lovely blonde by her side as Sissy Dani, her male lesbian 
slave. At Angela's wide-eyed, innocent stare, Jennifer displayed, 
surreptitiously, Dani's male equipment, and then showed how 
his bracelets could be locked together--and how much Dani loved 
the whole idea. Dani also wore a sedate but attractive white 
raw silk dress, its hem stopping six inches above her knees, 
sheer stockings, and white pumps with six-inch heels.
	Turning to Susan, Angela noted that her friend, called 
Teasing Tammy, seemed quite young. "Indeed she is," answered 
Susan. "Tammy is just 16--but a real cockteaser, as you can 
tell from her clothing." Tammy was dressed in a short, frilly 
pink minidress that did little to hide her full, lush figure. 
She also wore sheer pink stockings and pink, lace-trimmed ankle 
socks, while her feet were shod in six-inch pink pumps. Tammy 
seemed determined to pick up a man in this bar, as she constantly 
let her skirt hike up to her stocking tops, while she pouted 
her lips and let her tongue slip out in a teasing fashion. "Actually, 
Tammy is my brother Tommy--he's been transformed just as Dani 
has," Susan admitted. "His role in life is to bring more men 
into our little TV trap."
	Jennifer and Susan were both dressed in leather-- Jennifer 
in a red leather skirt and white satin blouse with black, thigh-high 
leather boots with six-inch heels, Susan in a black leather 
jumpsuit, decorated with zippers, including one that ran from 
her collar to her crotch, and was now pulled open to an inch 
below her otherwise naked breasts. She also wore six-inch heels, 
but hers were pumps set off by the pale stockings that showed 
between her ankles and the zippered bottoms of the pegged pants 
of her jumpsuit.
	Both had miniature whips hanging from their belts, and 
a ring of keys. Jennifer explained the keys were for an assortment 
of locking bondage gear they kept in their purses.
	Susan pointed out that Tammy was about to make a "conquest." 
A slender young man of about 22 had caught Tammy's eye and the 
two were now strolling to a dark booth elsewhere in the bar. 
"She'll signal us when she's ready for the next step," Susan 
said. "Tell us about yourself, Angela."
	Intrigued by the unusual lifestyle these two attractive 
women had chosen for themselves, Angela spoke about her job 
as Steven's assistant and about the increasing frustration she 
felt at his consistent chauvinist attitude toward her and her 
duties. Jennifer grinned. "Sounds like a terrific candidate 
for our new transformation process," she pointed out. "We've 
been using hypnosis as our means of making our little darlings 
meet our expectations and needs...but now, a doctor friend has 
suggested a new method, involving drugs that heighten suggestibility. 
She says the process might take a little longer, but it wouldn't 
require the constant reinforcement that hypnosis does. Are you 
game?"
	Angela's brow knitted while she thought about it. "Let 
me see how you handle Tammy's 'conquest,'" she replied. "I want 
to see how this works."
	Jennifer and Susan agreed and the three turned back to 
the bar to await Tammy's signal that her friend was ready for 
them to pounce.
	Half an hour later, Angela joined the two dominants and 
their slaves as they returned to Jennifer's house. Tammy's "conquest," 
Sal, slept peacefully between Dani and Tammy. Susan explained 
that Tammy had doused Sal's drink with a powerful sedative that 
would have the man knocked out for hours. Arriving at Jennifer's 
they carried the unconscious victim into the bedroom and bound 
him to the vanity bench.
	Angela watched as they stripped him of his clothes-- suit, 
shirt, underwear and all. Tammy and Dani, acting like a pair 
of ladies' maids, dressed Sal in lingerie: frilly tap panties, 
padded bra, matching garterbelt, sheer stockings. Jennifer used 
cosmetics to feminize his youthful face--mascara, eyeshadow, 
blush and lipstick. She stepped back to examine her work. Satisfied, 
she settled a pair of earphones over Sal's head, turned out 
the overhead light and left him, still bound to the vanity bench, 
facing the brightly lit mirror.
	"Now what?" Angela asked.
	"Now the tape player will impress my hypnotic suggestions 
on his sleeping mind," Jennifer answered. "By morning, Sal will 
be Sally--in everything but body.
	"Would you like to listen to a bit of the tape?" she asked.
	Angela nodded, and Jennifer led her into the adjoining 
room, where she flipped a switch. Instantly, Jennifer's voice, 
in a soft sultry tone, filled the room. "I prepared this while 
Dani and Tammy were dressing him," she told Angela.
	"You love women's clothes," the recorded voice told the 
drowsing Sal. "You love dressing and looking like a woman. The 
feel of satin, silk, and nylon arouses you. You are particularly 
fond of clothes that make you look like a servant. The traditional 
French maid's uniform--black satin minidress, cap, apron, black 
hose and very high heels--is a special turn-on. As such, your 
name will be Serving Sally.
	"You are a sexual submissive. You are compelled to obey 
the commands and orders of women. You are particularly responsive 
to those who will dress you in beautiful clothes and keep you 
in bondage," the voice continued. "You want to be a male, lesbian 
slave. But you will never forget that you are a man, and the 
great humiliation of your feminine, submissive state.
	"When the alarm clock strikes 6:30 a.m., you will awaken. 
You will not remember being hypnotized, but you will be prepared 
to follow my instructions implicitly. When you see yourself 
in the mirror upon awakening, you will immediately come. Forever 
after, the sight of yourself as a woman will be equated with 
sex in your mind: You will be unable to have sex while dressed 
as a male. At the snapping of my fingers, you will return to 
your 'normal' personality, with full memory of the humiliations 
you have experienced. The spoken phrase 'Tie your apron, Sally,' 
will bring back your maid-servant-slave personality....."
	The voice drifted off and was replaced by soft soothing 
music. "The tape will repeat periodically through the night," 
Jennifer explained. "Now, come with me," she said.
	Susan, Jennifer and Angela spent the rest of the evening 
planning Steven's transformation...but first would come Angela's 
own change. The two experienced dominants explained the importance 
of appearance--the dominant, by dressing in clothes that accented 
her feminine charms while also indicating her power, impressed 
a subtle message on the intended submissive. They went through 
many of their fashion magazines, pointing out to Angela the 
clothes that would best befit her wanted role of dominant woman.
	Susan and Jennifer invited Angela to join them in bed that 
night, with Dani and Tammy, as well. Angela, although she had 
never experienced lesbian sex before, was enthralled with the 
pleasure she got from the others, particularly when the dominants 
ordered their crossdressed slaves to pleasure Angela's pussy 
and breasts. Later, Angela had her first taste of dominant power 
as she fucked Dani's ass with a dildo. It was a heady experience 
and set her firmly on the path of dominance. Steven's days as 
a free male were numbered!
	The next morning the three opened the door to Sal/Sally's 
bedroom just before 6:30. As the clock began ringing, Sal's 
eyes popped open and he saw his feminized face in the brightly 
lit mirror above the vanity. At the same moment, his body shuddered 
and his cock exploded, filling the tap panties with cum. Jennifer, 
Susan and Angela all laughed at the reluctant TV's embarrassment.
	"What the hell is going on?" he yelled as he strained at 
his bonds. "What are you doing to me?"
	"SHUT UP!" shouted Jennifer. "And TIE YOUR APRON, SALLY!"
	Angela watched the lingerie-clad man's eyes glaze over, 
as the feminine, submissive personality Jennifer's posthypnotic 
commands imposed took over his body. He lowered his eyes and 
said, apologetically, "Of course, Mistress. How may I serve 
you?"
	"Wow!" thought Angela. "If he's this easy to handle after 
just one night of commands, how much can I manage to do with 
Steven once I get my claws into him?" She watched as Jennifer 
unbound Sally and showed her the maid's outfit laid out on the 
bed. The mesmerized TV practically threw herself at the satin 
uniform she had been trained to desire...and Angela observed 
how the little darling's cock filled the panties again.
	With an urgency born of erotic desire, Sally slipped on 
the seven-inch black patent-leather pumps laid out for her, 
tied on her apron, perched her cap on her still masculine curls 
and curtseyed to the three women. "I am ready to serve, Mistresses--what 
may I do for you?"
	Susan grinned as she circled the new maid, reaching under 
the petticoats to pat her ass. "Go make our bed, then start 
breakfast," she told Serving Sally, then chuckled as she watched 
the pantied ass under the petticoated miniskirt wiggle off to 
her chores.
	Angela watched as well...and contemplated how she would 
alter Steven's psyche to her own demands.


CHAPTER THREE: Stephanie Goes Shopping

	The two young women, each stylishly dressed but in opposing 
fashions, strolled through the suburban mall.
	The tall blonde with the short-cropped hair was clad in 
leather: black leather jacket over a royal blue satin blouse 
and a tight black leather miniskirt revealing nearly seven inches 
of her black nylon-sheathed thighs. Her shoes were black kid 
pumps with six-inch heels.
	Her companion was dressed in a flowing, flowery silk print 
dress in lavender and blue. It, too, had a short skirt with 
gentle pleats. Her splendid legs were covered in sheer nylons 
and hints of her stocking tops and garters showed as her skirt 
flounced around her thighs. Her shoes were blue sandals with 
seven-inch heels, revealing her coral-painted toenails that 
matched her perfectly manicured fingernails. Her auburn hair 
hung in gentle waves to her shoulders.
	As they passed various stores in the mall, Angela (the 
one in leather) often pointed out particular outfits on display, 
telling Stephanie how lovely she would look in such a dress. 
Stephanie would giggle and simper, amused that her companion 
found her so attractive. Onlookers would have thought some of 
the clothes that Angela suggested were rather unusual, for they 
included a little girl's party dress and Mary Janes, a fanciful 
maid's uniform in a costume shop and a revealing satin teddy 
in a lingerie display.
	Inwardly, Angela was laughing her head off. Stephanie, 
once her insufferable boss Steven, was helpless to have any 
other reaction to this little window-shopping excursion.  When 
Angela had dressed the newly submissive TV in this floral print 
design, she had impressed upon him that it was the type of clothing 
that a bubble-headed society deb might wear--and so Stephanie 
was forced to act just that way.
	But behind that facade, Steven still knew who he was--and 
he could not believe all that had changed in his life in the 
past two days.
	The morning after Angela first imposed her will on Steven, 
she tiptoed quietly into the bedroom where he was tied down, 
an intravenous line dripping a combination of feminine hormones 
and suggestibility-heightening drugs into his system. She carefully 
lifted the headphones off his ears--the headphones that had 
filled his mind with her carefully prepared commands all night--pulled 
out the IV and untied the satin scarves that held him to the 
bed.
	"Wake up, Stephanie," she called quietly. His eyes fluttered 
for a moment and then he smiled at her--a sweet, feminine smile, 
despite the absence of makeup and long hair.
	"Good morning, Mistress," he answered in a soft, husky, 
well-controlled contralto. "How may I serve you?"
	"We have a busy day ahead of us, Stephanie," Angela said. 
"You have an appointment at the beauty salon--and we have lots 
of outfits for you to try on. Climb out of bed, sleepy head, 
throw on that peignoir and slip your feet into those mules. 
It's time for breakfast."
	The half-feminized male followed his erstwhile assistant 
to the kitchen. Angela had a whopping big breakfast of toast, 
bacon, eggs, juice and coffee...while Stephanie had to be satisfied 
with just a half grapefruit and coffee. Angela was determined 
to whittle the already slender Stephanie down to a 22-inch waist 
and a size seven dress.
	Since the beauty salon appointment was at Mistress Margaret's, 
Angela knew she needn't worry about how outrageous she chose 
to make Stephanie's appearance for the day. Margaret's clientele 
knew all about domination and forced crossdressing; indeed, 
many of them delighted in it.
	After breakfast, Angela pulled out a lacy pink party dress 
for Stephanie. Though adult-sized, it was clearly of a style 
intended for a girl of nine or ten, featuring as it did a pink 
satin sash with a big bow and puffed sleeves.  Beneath it, Stephanie 
would wear ruffled pink panties, three stiff white taffeta petticoats, 
knee socks and black patent- leather Mary Janes.
	As each of the little girlish articles of clothing was 
placed on her, Stephanie felt her self-image shifting. No longer 
the submissive adult lover, she thought of herself as Angela's 
little sister--still completely submissive to the older woman's 
will but no longer in an erotic fashion. She was, in her mind, 
a child--and children always obey their elders.
	However, the effect of the clothing on the adult body, 
still padded out to attractive feminine proportions, was decidedly 
erotic. The 36-inch breasts showed their curve under the pink 
lace bodice, while the long legs, with their womanly curves 
and smooth, hairless thighs, were shown to excellent effect 
under the short skirt and petticoats.
	And for a dominant with an urge to feminize her males like 
Angela, the unadorned male face with the short hair above the 
ultra-feminine, ultra-childish garments was doubly erotic. Angela 
felt her own pussy getting hot and wet as she gazed on this 
creation, her own little Galatea.
	"You're just the sweetest thing, little Stephy," she told 
the dominated man-girl. "But it's time for you to get even sweeter. 
Come with me." She forced Stephanie's hands into lace gloves 
and handed her a small black patent purse to carry. Then, without 
a care as to what any of Steven's neighbors might think, she 
took the childishly dressed TV by the hand and led him out of 
the apartment and down to her car.
	Moments later, they were in Margaret's shop. "Hello again, 
Angela," the dominant beautician greeted her warmly, with a 
firm, wet kiss on the lips. "And this must be Stephanie! Well, 
you come with me, darling, and we'll have you looking as pretty 
as can be in no time."
	Angela smiled as she watched the adult-sized little girl 
mince off behind Margaret. She had already given her instructions 
as to how Stephanie was to be transformed, so she settled back 
in one of the waiting room chairs, opening one of the many magazines 
devoted to female dominance and transvestism that Margaret kept 
available for her special clientele.
	Back in the "transformation room," Margaret stripped Stephanie 
down to her lingerie, which reasserted her more adult persona. 
After a facial, Margaret began applying the cosmetics--dark 
brown mascara, eyeshadow in a range of shades from pale blue 
to deep purple, a rose blush (heavily applied for the embarrassed 
look so many of the dominants preferred on their TV slaves), 
and deep red lipstick. At the same time, one of Margaret's own 
TV slaves, a lovely thing named Karen, manicured Stephanie's 
hands and coated her nails with a double layer of polish, in 
a shade that matched her lips. Then Karen stripped off Stephanie's 
shoes and knee socks and performed the same function for her 
feet and toenails.
	The last step was the wig that Margaret had prepared. Since 
Steven's own hair was still too short for the right effect, 
this auburn creation, its shoulder-length curls close in color 
to his natural hair, would substitute for the next few months. 
Margaret carefully fitted it in place, did a few touch ups and 
then called Angela in.
	The new dominant was ecstatic. "Oh, Margaret, she's beautiful! 
More lovely than I could have dreamed she would be!"
	She turned to her crossdressed boss. "Stephanie, it's time 
for you to get dressed again--but I've brought a new outfit 
for you." She produced a pastel lavender and blue floral print 
dress, its lines flowing and loose, with a short, pleated skirt.
	As Stephanie let it fall over her head, Angela described 
the type of woman who would wear such an outfit. "This dress 
is designed for the young debutante, the girl who never works 
in her life. Indeed, she is incapable of holding down a job, 
she's such a ditz. Her only pleasures in life are shopping and 
spending money, especially on herself."
	With each word, and with each swish of the new dress against 
his skin, Steven's mind was altered into the new version of 
Stephanie. The posthypnotic suggestions that Angela had impressed 
upon him were working--every piece of clothing he wore as Stephanie 
changed his persona. Now, as he slipped on the seven-inch heels 
that went with the flowery dress, he became this ditz-queen 
deb.
	Angela handed him the purse, filled with the cash she had 
removed from his bank account the day before, and announced, 
"Stephanie, let's go shopping!"
	"Oh, yes, Angela," Stephanie squealed in response, "let's go!"
	So, now, after about an hour of traipsing around the mall, 
Angela steered her companion into a store with a fascinating 
name: "Jessica's House of Fantasy."
	"Hello, Trish," Angela called to the young woman behind 
the counter. "Stephanie, Trish here is just like you--a girl 
who used to be a boy." Both of the submissive TVs blushed at 
having their secrets so revealed. "Is Jessica about?" Angela 
asked.
	"She's in the back, laying out the clothes you asked her 
to prepare, Mistress Angela," the pretty brunette replied. "Shall 
I summon her for you?"
	"Don't bother, dear," Angela replied. "I know the way. 
Come along, Stephanie." She led the way through a curtained 
doorway in the rear of the shop.
	Jessica was a middle-aged woman who maintained a youthful 
figure and outlook on life. About three years ago she had transformed 
her son Patrick into the lovely Trish, now 20 years old. In 
addition to serving as counter girl, Trish also often acted 
as a model for her mother's unusual clothing collection.
	Today, Jessica was dressed in a low-cut white silk blouse 
and skirt combination, her excellent legs perched on five-inch 
heels. Her salt-and-pepper hair was twisted into a tight French 
braid, revealing her elegant neck with the gold choker around 
it. "Angela, darling!" she cried. "And is this Stephanie?"
	Stephanie blushed once again in acknowledgement, extending 
her hand as she had been taught. The older woman took the TV's 
hand in hers and pulled Stephanie to her embrace, then planted 
a full, wet kiss on the man-woman's mouth, her eager tongue 
probing deep within. Unnerved, Stephanie found herself responding 
to the kiss and felt her cock grow within her panties.
	"OK, Jess, that's enough," Angela interrupted. "There'll 
be plenty of time for both of us to enjoy Stephanie's charms 
tonight. Right now, we have to find some clothes for her."
	"Of course, Angie," Jessica answered. "How about this?" 
She held up a white satin blouse and shorts outfit. "Just the 
thing for a picnic--or gardening."
	"Terrific--let's see her in it." She ordered Stephanie 
out of the floral print dress and the lingerie she had worn 
since leaving the house that night. Now totally naked, Stephanie's 
psyche became a blank slate, waiting for the clothing and Angela's 
description of the woman who wore it to write her personality 
upon it.
	Jessica produced a pair of plain white panties and a white 
demi-bra for Stephanie to wear beneath the minuscule outfit. 
The white satin shorts were extremely brief and tight, nearly 
hot pants. They revealed Stephanie's smooth, hairless legs from 
just below the ass cheeks. The matching blouse had but three 
buttons, so that it hung open in a V to just below her breasts. 
Its short sleeves left her arms uncovered as well. The finishing 
touch was a pair of white sandals that strapped on, showing 
off Stephanie's extremely feminine feet with their twinkling 
red toenails.
	"This is a great outfit for a teenager to wear on a picnic, 
isn't it, Jessica?" Angela noted, beginning the personality 
change in Stephanie.
	"Or for a trip to the mall, so she can attract the attention 
of all the hunky boys," Jessica suggested, knowing Angela's 
plan. Unable to do anything about it, Steven felt his psyche 
shift again, becoming younger, giggly, full of youthful spirits.
	"Yes, but any girl who would show herself off like this 
must be something of a slut," Angela went on. "Maybe even a 
bit of a cocktease."
	That did it. The new Stephanie was born. With every ounce 
of her being, this girl wanted sex, but on her terms. She would 
lead a boy on until he was begging for her b give him only what she 
pleased.
	Jessica laughed, "My god, that's amazing! Why I could literally 
watch her whole personality change before my eyes." She picked 
up a black spandex outfit, so small it looked like a belt with 
a small skirt attached.
	"Oh, that's the hooker look," Angela explained. "Combined 
with the sheer black nylons and garter belt and the seven-inch 
heels, it'll make her eager to sell her body to any man or woman 
who offers money.
	"But that persona has already been established by my tape 
last night. Let's see what else we can come up with."


CHAPTER FIVE: STEPHANIE'S FATE

	Angela handed a platter with hors d'ouevres to Stephanie 
and sent the tranvestized maid out into the party. Each of the 
guests was one of Angela's new group of friends, dominant women 
all. Each was accompanied by a slave--some, like Mistress Jennifer, 
by a submissive TV...others by a submissive lesbian companion. 
The assembled dominants applauded as Stephanie minced into the 
room on her seven-inch heels, carefully balancing the heavy 
platter.
	One or two fondled her ass beneath the ruffled petticoats 
of her maid's uniform. The programming placed in her mind by 
Angela's careful ministrations permitted Stephanie only to blush 
at these indignities, and to giggle a provocative mock protest, 
"Oh, no, madame!"
	As she circulated with the appetizers, Stephanie noted 
a single "man" within the room. He was securely bound to a chair 
in the center, with a business-suited woman beside him. Her 
eyes never left this out-of-place emblem of masculinity in the 
room full of women. Finally, Angela came up to her side.
	"Interested in our little captive, Stephanie?" she asked. 
"That's His Honor, Justice George Marshall of the State Supreme 
Court. The woman behind him is his law clerk, Nancy. She has 
grown tired of his repeated advances and his never-ceasing male 
chauvinism--just as I did with your alter ego, Steven.Therefore, 
she has brought him to us, her dominant friends, to be transformed 
and controlled, just as you were. His 'change' will be the central 
entertainment of the party--and YOU will assist!"
	Steven, hidden somewhere deep within Stephanie, could hardly 
believe it. Here he was, so recently transformed himself, expected 
to aid in the making of yet another helpless man/woman. It was 
absurd--yet his programming now ran so deeply that he gave no 
thought to the idea of rebelling.
	Half an hour later, at the height of the party, Angela 
announced that the "entertainment" was about to start. "Stephanie, 
please go into the bedroom and bring out the tray of cosmetics," 
she said. The TV maid did as requested, returning with a tray 
laden with every possible item of the cosmetic arts, from foundation 
to false eyelashes. "Now, Stephanie honey, you will show everyone 
here the wonderful training I have given you by making George 
here into Georgia."
	Forced to comply by the submissive personality laid over 
his own, Stephanie started to work on the unfortunate judge. 
She quickly noted that the man was NOT entranced...that he was 
completely aware of what was happening to him...yet, somehow, 
still unable to resist. Angela explained, "Nancy and I have 
not yet created darling Georgia's new personality. However, 
thanks to a remarkable muscle relaxant, she is totally unable 
to move. Hence, she is completely cognizant of the change being 
made to her appearance by the lovely Stephanie. Once she is 
completely female in appearance--and the humiliation of her 
transformation is complete--then we will create the new Georgia 
in mind as well as body!"
	Following Nancy's instructions, Stephanie first shaved 
off the man's eyebrows, then the fringe of hair that circled 
his otherwise bald head. Though still young, George Marshall 
had never tried to hide his baldness, thinking it made him look 
older and more "judicial." Now, the TV maid applied foundation 
over his whole face, then began to make up his eyes with dramatic 
applications of shadow and eyeliner, and drew in high arched 
brows to replace the ones she had shaved off. Blusher followed 
on his cheeks, then deep red lipstick. The final cosmetic touch 
was the false eyelashes--long, thick, dark brown lashes that 
gave his eyes an exotic, almost Latin look.
	Nancy produced the crowning glory: a wig of luxurious dark 
brown human hair, set in a shoulder-length curly style. She 
carefully settled it onto Georgia's bare head, applying a latex 
glue to hold it securely in place.
	A mirror was placed before the now lovely judge so that 
he could see the changes wrought. Now Angela brought out the 
clothes Nancy had chosen for her victim, and she, Nancy and 
Stephanie dressed Georgia in them: scarlet lingerie (padded 
bra, panties, garter belt, floor-length satin slip); sheer black 
stockings; red patent-leather pumps with five-inch heels; and 
a form-fitting red satin evening gown, its left side slit to 
the thigh, revealing the black-hosed leg nearly to the stocking-top.
	In short, Georgia looked sensational!
	Now, Mistress Jennifer stepped forward and, following Nancy's 
prompting, used her hypnotic talents to create the new persona 
of Georgia. Like so many of the submissive transvestites in 
their little circle, she was to think of herself as a "male 
lesbian"--but in Georgia there was a difference. Unlike the 
others, in all of whom the feminine guise had been laid over 
a still inherent male personality, Jennifer endeavored with 
Georgia to do the opposite. "Georgia is the REAL you," she told 
the mesmerized jurist. "Your male identity, when allowed to 
exist, is the false one. So much so that you will feminine lingerie--and 
nothing else--under your judicial robes when sitting on the 
bench. So be careful, Georgia dear!" The assembled party-goers 
roared with laughter at Jennifer and Nancy's little game.
	The newly created Georgia was released from her trance 
and turned over to her mistress. Nancy made the man/woman thank 
each of the dominants in the room for her part in the transformation, 
then the two beautiful figures sashayed out of the apartment.
	That brought an end to the party and to Stephanie's role 
as a French maid. As Angela helped her boss strip out of the 
satin uniform, and Steven's own persona came to the fore, he 
began to wonder what her next ploy would be. What would she 
make him become next?
	The answer camethe next morning, when Steven found another 
photo taped to his shaving mirror. Again, the careful programming 
did its job. The picture protrayed a young woman in a tailored 
business suit, the V of the jacket revealing her lacy camisole 
and the short skirt revealing her shapely legs, perched on matching 
kid pumps, to mid-thigh. The caption read, "Get dressed and 
go to work, Stephanie."
	Steven moved in a trance to the closet, picking out the 
outfit that most closely resembled the photo. Soon, he was dressed 
in a red silk business suit, with short skirt and six-inch pumps, 
his black camisole showing beneath the jacket. The clothing 
impressed his new identity upon him--working girl, assistant 
to the new department head: Angela!
	Without regard to whether or not others might see her leaving, 
Stephanie strode confidently to the elevator. A short time later, 
she was seated, knees together, legs folded beneath her chair, 
at what had been Angela's desk outside Steven's office. The 
intercom buzzed. "Stephanie, come in please."
	Angela sat on the edge of her desk, dressed in a tight 
black leather business suit, a creamy white satin blouse beneath 
the jacket and black patent pumps setting off her magnificent 
legs. She smiled as Stephanie primly entered.
	"This is your permanent identity, Stephanie. You are now 
my assistant as I once was Steven's. Your duties are similar 
to what my once were--with several important additions." She 
stood and crossed to the door, locking it; then pulled the blinds. 
She sat again on the desk, pulling her skirt up past her crotch, 
revealing that she wore no panties. Her pussy was framed by 
the black lines of her garter belt. "Satisfy me, Stephanie."
	Her submissive nature now a permanent part of her psyche, 
the once-proud executive, now simply Stephanie the administrative 
assistant, kneeled before her boss and mistress and buried her 
face in Angela's crotch. Though deep within Steven's voice still 
cried out in humiliation, Stephanie could only think, "At last, 
I'm exactly where I belong!"

FIN