Daphne

The rain was coming down like wet nails outside. Consequently, all the runners and walkers decided to get their workout at the gym, and as a result the place was packed. Every machine was occupied with a line of three or four sweaty people trailing next to it. The smell of human effort permitted the place.

Francis stood in line and tried not to let his frustration show. To make things worse, Francis was in a hurry tonight. In a few hours, he'd be having dinner with Daphne. It wasn't an ordinary date. He'd had to work for weeks to find the right circumstances to ask her out- or was it months? She was out of his league, and it was clear that both of them knew this. He was out of his depth.

Daphne was the kind of girl who played her femininity like an instrument. Her hair was always doing something interesting. Every part of her body seemed to move of its own volition as she walked. Wherever she happened to be, no straight male in the room could beat the urge to stare at her at least a little. He wondered what she might wear tonight. He'd seen her in a simple black dress of an impossibly light fabric that showed off every curve of her frame. He'd seen her in tall, statuesque heels. He'd seen her lips painted a flirty pink with just enough gloss to glint in the light. After thinking this, he became aware of his penis becoming erect, and he quickly covered his crotch with his towel.

In doing so, the terrycloth wad rubbed up against the shorts of the man standing in front of him, a former football player if he had to guess, who immediately spun around.

"Um, excuse me?" he said.

Francis turned as red a cherry. "I'm sorry. I was just ... that was my towel."

He could see the embarrassment on Francis' face, and he smiled. "We might as well introduce ourselves formally now that you've touched my ass. I'm Dan."

"Francis," he said, shrinking a little.

By the time Francis finally got his workout done, the rain had stopped and place had emptied out.

He had the locker room all to himself now. Relishing this newfound freedom, he stretched out in the shower and lingered under the warm stream for a long while. He barely noticed the dark hooded figure enter the stall from behind him. He felt the hood going over his head and the thick, strong arm weaving under his own arm and behind his head with no real understanding of what was happening.

He had the sensation of being marched a short distance. He heard one door open then another. Thrown naked onto the floor, he heard a loud metallic door sliding shut next to him.

"Is this Phil? Seriously, this isn't a night for pranks, dude. I've got a date."

"You're going to have to cancel, dear." said a voice, which was not Phil's. It was a calm and deep voice that inspired obedience.

"I don't have my phone. I need to text her."

"That's all been taken care of. You texted her to say that you have a work emergency. She texted back to say that she understands- rain check."

Francis could feel that they were both on the move. Sounds of traffic were all around him.

"What the fuck is going on? How did you-"

"She's pretty," said the voice. "Daphne, I mean. Her photo came up when she texted back. Is she your ideal woman?"

"I'm not answering you. Let me the fuck out of this van right now!"

Francis struggled but found that his wrists were tied behind his back with some kind of plastic restraint. Desperately, he began rubbing his face on the upholstery to remove his hood.

"Don't make me drug you, dear. Are you going to make me drug you? Tsk. Tsk. So disappointing."

Francis felt a needle prick, and nothing more.

The process of waking took several attempts. When he first regained consciousness, he saw a half-lit room and a leather chair opposite him. Everything became blurry and he soon succumbed to sleep again. Two more tries, and he finally pulled himself awake enough to sit up. Soft nylon rope held him to his leather sofa. The sounds of the leather against his body filled his ears. Suddenly, he became aware that he wasn't feeling the leather against his bare skin. He was clothed now.

With the bindings, it was difficult to see what his captor had done. Before too long, he noticed a mirror on the other side of the room- a long full-length mirror positioned at such an angle that he didn't think he was looking at himself. It looked like someone else or a dummy in the corner. His blood ran cold.

Black sheer stockings, tall black high heels with a glass-like shine to them, a mini skirt of soft leather, a red satin blouse and glowing white pearls. On his head sat a gorgeous dark brunette wig. He seemed to have makeup on as well, the same shade of lipstick as Daphne wore in her photo.

Francis was furious. He strained against his bindings, grunting and shouting. "Let me out of here you sick fuck! I'm a man. Do you hear me? Fuck you and your perverted bullshit!"

No response. He was left in the room with only his feminine reflection to keep him company. He looked at his heels again, twisted them in the light to see the shine. The curve of the heel caught his attention. Whoever this was had great taste in shoes. After an hour or so of staring at himself, he began to feel attracted to that woman- if it was not him, of course. He noted for the first time that his legs looked very good in those stockings. If he met a woman who looked like this, he reluctantly admitted to himself, he would probably want to fuck her, to run his hands over her body slowly and to slide his cock inside her pussy and to kiss those pink glossy lips. He felt his cock growing again as before. He'd been put in satin panties. he felt it as soon as his erection began to emerge. Satin and leather on his cock. The sensation was incredible.

For a moment he pondered a different perspective: if he were this woman would she want to fuck Francis?

He allowed himself to imagine reaching into his own jeans and pulling out his hard, pulsating cock. He imagined what it would feel like to touch it, to put it in his hungry mouth. He banished the thought from his mind as soon as he could. It made him feel ashamed and awful. Less than nothing.

"So pretty," said the voice. "I've been watching you from the other room. You clean up nicely, dear."

When he opened the door, Francis immediately recognized him. Dan from the gym. He struggled in his restraints.

"Let me out of here!"

"I will," said Dan, laughing a little. "Eventually. Do you like my little art project? Some guys draw dicks on each other when they pass out. "I'm more fond of turning them into their ideal woman."

"That's bullshit."

"Really? You're not turned on by the way you look? I can see your clitty getting hard, dear. I can see what it's doing to you. You're very pretty. Did you always know you would make such a pretty girl, Daphne?"

"I'm not Daphne, dammit."

Dan leaned down very close. Francis could feel the heat of his breath as he said, "In here. Tonight. You are Daphne."

"Let me go!"

"Tell you what," said Dan, reaching around Francis' body. "I'll let one arm free."

And whit that, Dan left the room. What the hell was Francis supposed to do now? Several minutes passed as he stared at himself again, embarrassed and feeling emasculated by the experience. With his one free hand he could feel the leather of his skirt. Without moving enough to let Dan see him do it, he ran his thumb along his stocking tops. Involuntarily, his cock flexed in his panties. He wanted to touch himself so badly now that it didn't matter if Dan would humiliate him for it.

Francis reached up under his skirt slowly. He closed his eyes to visualize it all in his mind. He ran his finger along the shaft of his cock against the satin, and the sensation thrilled him. He opened his eyes and saw him touching himself. The lump in his skirt looked appealing to him now. He wondered what it would feel like to feel it inside him, strong hands on his hips pulling him close. He was Daphne now. It was obvious. He closed his eyes and stroked his clitty inside his panties.

"Are you my dirty girlie slut?" said Dan. He had been in the room for a few minutes unnoticed.

Francis/Daphne did not answer. She could see Dan's hands kneading his own cock as he stood there. Daphne was making his cock hard. Daphne hiked up her skirt enough to expose her panties. She looked up at Dan coquettishly.

"Are you my dirty girlie slut?" he asked again.

Daphne's answer was to pull her clitty out from her panties and stroke it for him.

Dan smiled. "That's good enough for now, I think." He unzipped his jeans and slowly pulled out his thick, hard cock.

For the first time in his life Francis, now Daphne, craved it. Drool formed at the corners of his mouth. Unable to speak, Daphne mouth the word "please." With her free hand she wrapped her manicured fingers around Dan's muscular member and felt his heartbeat for a moment.

"Good girl," said Dan, writhing his hips in Daphne's grip. "You made this. You're so gorgeous that you made my cock throb. How does that make you feel?"

"Like a girlie slut," said Daphne. She pulled on his cock a little as Dan came closer. The tip of his circumcised cock was so close that Daphne could feel the heat of it on her face.

"Are you going to suck Daddy's cock?" he asked. The act of saying the words made his cock pulsate with joy.

"Yes," said Daphne, wrapping her pink lips around him. The shame of it mingled with the thrill in her mind as Daphne relaxed her throat as she had seen porn stars do. She took as much as she could in her throat, his hands on top of her head pulling her down. When she pulled up a string of saliva ran from her mouth to his cock like a leash. She liked that thought. Her clitty throbber in her skirt.

Dan unbound her other arm, and Daphne stretched a little. Noticing the long black satin gloves on the sofa next to her, she put them on for him. She delighted in the effect her new femininity had on Dan and his monster cock. She felt like a lion tamer in the cage. She knew how good it would feel to be stroked with satin gloves. Daphne new better than most women how to take care of a cock. Daphne was, indeed, the ideal feminine creature.

Dan grabbed her chin and pulled her head up to make eye contact. Her satin-clad hands gripped his cock as she slid her mouth back onto him.

"You were born to suck my cock, weren't you?"

Daphne hummed in agreement. She could feel his cock muscles tensing. Daphne knew what this meant. Rather than being revulsed by the idea, she craved it. She needed to feel his cum in her mouth. She wanted to feel the accomplishment of making this man's cock explode.

"I'm going to cum in your mouth, Daphne."

She hummed again eagerly.

Dan pulled away. "But I won't. Not until you say the words for me. Say that you're my dirty girlie slut."

"Yes," said Daphne, her lipstick smeared and her eyeliner running. "I am your dirty girlie slut. I need your cum inside me. Daddy, please cum in my mouth."

With that, Dan grabbed Daphne's head and pulled her onto his rod. She squeezed him with her satin fingers and within a few moments he shot a hot load into her throat. His cock still in her mouth, Daphne's fingers wandered down to under her skirt. She came almost instantly all over the inside of her pretty panties.

"You made a mess," said Dan laughing. "I'll need to change you."

He untied her and slowly peeled her clothing off. Within a few minutes, he had her dressed again in a clingy black spandex dress and red satin heels. The act of dressing her stiffened his cock again. Daphne could sense it in the way he moved. She wanted it again. She was desperate.

Dan flipped the sofa around so Daphne was bent over it facing the mirror. She could see herself in her dress. She liked the way she looked. She felt like a dirty girl on a night out hunting for cock. She could see him behind her, his cock sprang out of his pants again as he rubbed it against her silken legs. His eyes closed. Seeing how much pleasure he got from her feminine body made Daphne insane with lust. She felt her dress hiked up, her ass exposed. She felt his fingers playing with the hem of her panties. He didn't take them off, merely pushed the crotch to one side. Daphne could feel his cock against her stockings, warm and still wet. She thought about her spit being used as lubricant. Daphne felt his thumb on her rosebud, loosening her, relaxing her.

"I'm going to put my cock in your ass, Daphne," said Dan. Stating the obvious only made it hotter for Daphne. She arched her back in anticipation. "I'm going to fuck your dirty girl asspussy and cum inside you. Are you my dirty anal girl?"

"Yes," said Daphne. She could feel precum on her aching clitty. "Please, Daddy. Please fuck the shit out of me. I'm your dirty anal girl."

Dan grunted like a caveman and slowly pushed his cock into Daphne's ass. It hurt, of course. Even the pain wasn't enough to dim her excitement. The sounds he made, the obvious pleasure he took from her body, it pushed her through it. Dan leaned over her, pressing his weight on her. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close as he fucked her ass. Daphne could feel his rod deep inside her. She knew that she had made him so hard. She had already made him cum once, and she was determined to capture his seed in her ass like a dirty slut.

"Your'e so beautiful," he said softly. It wasn't the aggressive dominant tone of before. He seemed earnest. "You're so damn beautiful, Daphne."

She looked up at the mirror and saw how he was looking at her. "Fuck me," she said. "I need all of you inside me."

Suddenly, he turned her around to face him. He grabbed her legs by the ankles and pushed his cock back inside her. Now she could see his face. It was not vitally important to her that she see his face when he came inside her ass. He was fucking her hard now. Daphne's whole body shook with each thrust. Her clitty was flapping in the air under her dress. Daphne was using both hands to hold herself steady, so the fleshy appendage moved of its own accord.

He leaned over her now and Daphne's smooth legs instinctively wrapped around him. He pulled her dress off of one shoulder and kissed her skin passionately. He nibbled on her, unable to stop himself. He was going to leave a mark, but Daphne didn't care.

"You're my gorgeous girlie slut," said Dan breathlessly. "You always needed a thick cock in your ass and didn't know it."

"Cum inside me, Daddy," said Daphne urgently. "I need it."

The words must have triggered something inside Dan. Every muscle in his body tensed suddenly, and Daphne could feel a huge explosion of cum squirting inside her tight ass. The feeling of making her man cum again was incredible. She had tamed the lion. Daphne's clitty was rock hard pointing to the sky like a tentpole. She reached down and rubbed the tip lightly, looking directly into Dan's eyes.

"No," he said with mock anger. "You must ask, dear."

"May I, Daddy? I want to stroke my sissy clit and cum."

He stood her up in the middle of the room and placed her in front of the mirror. "Yes, dear. Perform for me. Stroke your clit but don't take it out."

Daphne reached down under her skirt and rubber her organ looking at herself and at him. Daphne was beautiful. Daphne was a dirty girl. Daphne became a woman tonight. When she came, her knees became weak, and Dan needed to lean in to keep her from falling off her five inch heels. In fact, it was all too much for her and she eventually passed out on the floor.

Francis woke some time later- no telling how long but the sun was up now. He was in his own bed somehow. He crawled out from under the covers and stumbled to the bathroom. He was both relieved and disappointed to see that he was back to his male self. The only reason he didn't dismiss the entire event as a fever dream was the distinct bite mark on his right shoulder. He touched his hand to it with affection.

On the counter he saw his phone lit up. One text. Unknown number. He tapped to open the message- images of himself as a woman, an incredible voracious, lusty woman.

At the bottom were just a handful of words: "Daddy misses Daphne already."