Making More Dreams Come True

Mom smiled. "I've been wondering what to get you for your birthday... Leave it to me. It'll be a nice surprise for her, too."

4. At Home at Margaret Baxter's.

Time passed and August came around as it always did in summertime and on the second Wednesday we found ourselves up in the Midlands to attend Margaret Baxter's monthly 'At Home'.

Margaret, you will recall, is Mom's friend and a Psychiatrist to boot. She's an attractive and striking grey-haired middle-aged lady who lives with her 'companions' in a strange three-story bungalow about fifteen minutes' drive away from the Ludlow University campus where she works. Her 'At Homes' was slightly different to Mom's in that they are a little more structured, no doubt she liked to feel that she was in control, perhaps that's a medical thing about which I cannot comment. I'm a personnel manager, not a doctor.

Ms Baxter, as well as being a consultant Psychiatrist at the hospital, is a lecturer and tutor at the Medical School that is part of Ludlow University. Her grey hair is done in a no-nonsense page-boy bob which frames her open and rather beautiful face. She is slim and although fifty-ish is also one hell of an attractive woman!

We arrived at about one pm and Mom parked our car, the Peugeot not the Bentley, in the drive and then we followed the little paper arrows around the house and into the back garden where a light buffet lunch was laid out and were we were greeted by one of Margaret's 'companions'. The woman, a stunning red-head , was casually dressed in a gingham blouse and mini skirt, she raised her cowboy hat to us and bade us welcome before she informed us that. "Madam has been delayed but would be joining us shortly."

She escorted us over to the buffet and left us in the capable hands of an identically clad, but equally stunning blonde who handed us our plates and indicated that we should help our selves, which we did. The food was simple and catered for multiple tastes including vegetarian, which we weren't. Then while we ate, we circulated and chatted with the other guests most of whom we knew, they included Ludmilla Carbanova, who seemed to spend as much time in the UK as she did at home in Russia. She was chatting in a quite animated manner to Sandhya Sachi, an Indian Mistress who we had met occasionally. They greeted us with a big smiles but continued with their discussion.

The meal over, Margaret joined us. "Sorry about the delay," she said, "but I was attending to Lakshmi."

She was dressed as I had never seen her before and looked very fetching in her daffodil yellow sun dress. When her guests began to wonder what was happening with the infamous doctor, Margaret just smiled and suggested that we should follow her and find out.

She led us in through her garage, which was located in the basement directly under the kitchen. Once inside, she indicated a small doorway behind which was a hallway and a staircase that led up into the house, proper. At the other end of the short hall was another door... Except this one was totally concealed behind a sliding wall panel.

"We really love our secret playrooms, don't we, ladies?" Margaret said in self-mocking tones as she led us through into another room only this one was even larger than the garage. I gasped when I realised just what it was.

"Welcome to my medical facility." She said quietly. "Here, as you can see, we are equipped to carry out simple surgical procedures as well as a certain amount of basic psychological conditioning and other modifications."

"What sort of surgery?" Tilly asked, sounding more than a little intrigued.

Margaret smiled proudly. "Simple stuff, mainly: sterilization, castration, breast augmentation, basic plastic surgery and facial remodelling. Fiona reckons that we could tackle M to F GRS..."

There were a couple of gasps of surprise. "You've met Fiona, she's the red-head that greeted you earlier. Besides being one of my pets, she is also a top-notch surgeon who works part-time at the local teaching hospital. Ginnie, one of my other pets, is an experienced operating theatre sister and I'm also a qualified anaesthetist."

The whole place looked 'state of the art' to me, but then I had nothing to compare it too, other than the kit seen in TV sci-fi shows. And believe me, the stuff in that basement would not have looked out of place in one.

"What's all of this got to do with that bitch, Gupta?" Another of the guests demanded.

Margaret smiled and led us to the rear of the facility. "Ah yes, Lakshmi! We all know that she had been getting ideas above her station for years and believed herself worthy to be a full member of our little circle."

Someone else said something rude and unladylike which Margaret chose to ignore. "Some of you were at dear Helena's soirée in May when she brought that foul American woman along as a 'potential' candidate for membership and will remember how she all but raped Helena's lovely daughter, Tilly."

She waited for the muttering to die down before continuing. "The ladies present decided that Dr Gupta had finally gone too far that time and ruled that both of the offending women should be dealt with permanently. I volunteered to render Lakshmi harmless while Ludmilla, here, was awarded control of Thelma Detwhiler. The American Embassy thinks that she is dead, by the way: so please don't say or do anything that would convince them otherwise."

I looked around and saw the women that were present at our house back in May nod in agreement. "Yes well, as Madam Carbonova graciously agreed to take charge of Thelma it was agreed that she should be given a free hand regarding her punishment. She is only a lawyer, after all and had nothing that was of use to any of us. I'll leave her to enlighten you in that regard. But what to do about 'dear' Lakshmi?"

There were various suggestions, all too obscene or sadistic to recount, which Margaret again ignored. "You will all admit that her skills and imagination have been of great service to us all over the years, so it was stipulated that any sanctions so applied would leave her with these faculties intact. A Doctor with her skill and a total lack of ethics or scruples is a rare and valuable jewel and should not be discarded lightly."

When this last statement was met with a few blank looks, Margaret Baxter just smiled before half-turning and pressing a stud on the wall. Another panel slid back, this time to reveal a small but well lit eight by eight room with Lakshmi Gupta on display in the centre.

Only...

Only...

Only she was naked, on all fours and shackled to a support frame with a ring-gag strapped into her mouth. "I find these more convenient as medication or a range of items may be inserted into the subject's mouth without the need to remove any obstructions first or indeed without the risk of the handler being bitten." Margaret explained.

Only...

Only...

Only small cups were attached to Lakshmi's nipples, cups connected to some sort of humming machine by flexible plastic tubes through which a white liquid was flowing. "As you can see, ladies, she is being milked which must be done three times a day to keep her docile and fully productive. You are no doubt aware that there is a ready market for human milk which will allow dear Lakshmi to more than pay for the cost of her treatment and upkeep. The machine is a basic goat-milker with a few modifications to make it more comfortable for her, bless her.

"I'm sure that you will agree that this transformation is a major improvement on her old, abrasive self."

Lakshmi's only reaction to the chuckling and laughter was to give us all a soulful, pleading look just before the door slid shut.

Next, we were conducted to the large open-plan lounge in the centre of the bungalow for refreshment but even this was slightly surreal. I will always remember Margaret's red haired pet, the one that was also a surgeon, bending over me so that I couldn't help but look inside her blouse. When she was sure that I had a good view she asked the usual questions beginning with: "Tea or coffee?"

This was followed by: "Black or white?"

And finally, with a completely straight face: "Cow or Lakshmi?"

That afternoon, probably for the first time in her life, Dr Gupta proved to be universally popular.

After our drinks were served the afternoon did begin to develop along more conventional lines - conventional for The Circle, that is - and the usual small talk predominated for an hour or so until two of the miniskirt and gingham clad women came in to set up a monitor and DVD player in the corner, then, with a proud Ludmilla providing the commentary, it was time to view her 'home movies'.

She began by showing us panoramic shots of the rugged countryside that surrounded her dacha, or country house to the non-Russian speaker. The house being located in south-eastern Siberia, somewhere near the mythical and highly disputed Chinese border. Then after skimming over rivers and dirt roads, the camera alighted on a wide and modern looking two lane highway, which it followed at speed until it arrived at a small provincial airport. Waiting outside of which was an old fashioned horse-drawn carriage - a 'Landau' to be precise, or so Ludmilla informed us... Except that the landau was not being pulled by horses: it was being hauled by a team of men.

"As you can see, I have adopted my good friend Kê Cai's idea and have acquired a team of horsey-boys all of my very own. I am going to do to them exactly what Madam Kê did to hers but you will see by their silly floppy willies that they are still a work in progress." Was it my imagination, or had her Russian accent faded somewhat over the months since we had last met?

The team was made up of six muscular male slaves, all in their late twenties or early thirties clad in nothing but leather harnesses and tack complete with impressive tall lilac plumes sprouting from their head collars and long, flowing ribbons of the same colour plaited into their long hair. I felt my willy contract with a jerk when I noticed that the left hand lead horsey-boy wasn't. Although at least as broad and as heavily muscled as the male slaves, this one had large firm tits and didn't have a cock, or anything else for that matter.

Tilly recognised her at the same time as I did. "Hey, Saffie, isn't that Thelma Detwhiler?" She whooped.

I double checked and then did a double take because it was!

"As you can see, lead horsey-boy is actually a horsey-girl, or at least she used to be." Ludmilla said proudly. "I've had her on a very high dose of steroids since I was given her in May, she has also been forced to exercise for hours every day and as you can see this has caused her to develop big muscles that would shame many body-builders. I had all of her lady parts surgically removed and the place where they used to be has been smoothed over so that it is impossible to see that they were ever there. Her tits have been enhanced and reinforced with carbon fibre mesh to prevent them from sagging, they are also as hard as bullets so she can't play with them either. Nipples are about two inches long and too sensitive to touch. She also gets regular testosterone injections to increase her strength and libido so she really is one vicious, mean-spirited, evil and sexually frustrated bitch with absolutely nothing to play with. She hates men and so takes her frustrations out on the horsey-boys who are all terrified of her."

I must admit that both Tilly and I thought that the new hard-looking female eunuch-Thelma was a major improvement on what she used to be.

The video continued and an entourage emerged from the doors of the airport building and soon we recognised Ludmilla escorting a small, bald, dapper-looking man out of the Airport building and into the landau. The rest of the entourage piled into SUV's and military-style 4 by 4's

"Hey," someone called, "isn't that Vladimir Putin?"

Ludmilla looked coy. "He is a regular house guest at my dacha although I do have to keep my best toys away from him in case he breaks them!"

As the carriage moved away from the airport buildings and Ludmilla's team of Horsey-Boys broke into a trot, one of the guests asked about the buxom young woman who was driving the landau.

Ludmilla laughed. "She is my sister-in-law, or used to be. Stupid bitch tried to blackmail me and even went to the police to report me for keeping slaves when I refused to give her a million dollars. The police handed her over to me - bitch didn't realise that I owned them too."

She began laughing. "See the stupid-looking Horsey-boy in the middle at the right? He's my brother and he put her up to it. She's a lesbian now and hates the snivelling bastard even more than I do which is why she keeps flicking him with her whip."

5. Playing with our Doll (Concita).

For one reason or another Tukta did not leave for India until mid June. She was away for about ten weeks, which was less time than taken for the twins last year. The body modifications were identical to Sapphire's but there had been less to do to her in the way of conditioning, hence the shorter time.

I know that Helena had taken careful notes as to what the twins wanted but confided to me that some of the processes were a trifle hit and miss. The hospital, however had refined their pioneering technique and were in the process of wheeling it out as part of the GRS package that they offered to trans-men. This was, after all, the first type of realistic working phallus that anyone had managed to construct and as such was a ground-breaking surgical procedure.

After trans-women and trans-men we now have trans-shemales although I must admit that I shuddered when I heard Sapphire apply the term to herself for the first time. I guess it is the fault of the strict catholic upbringing I received when I was a girl in the Philippines, that and the fact that I am, in many ways, old fashioned. But deep-down I still think of Saffie as a 'girl' and Timmy as a 'boy' and doubt that I will ever get used to their conversion into shemales: trans or otherwise.

Helena has helped me come to terms with the status quo which I have had no alternative but to accept. I try to be happy for the children and have attempted to accept what they have become. I have been left with my memories and personality intact and know that Ms Yorke could just as easily had me conditioned and turned into one of her devoted pets. It goes without saying that I am grateful she decided against it although I suspect that some minor psychological tinkering was carried out to help me accept the status quo. Perhaps that is why I suddenly became a lesbian.

And now I am happy simply because the children are happy. But on that tragic and fateful night, eleven years ago, if I'd known what I know now, would I have run up the lane and asked for Helena's help? Well, would I?

The only honest answer that I can give is that I do not actually know. Don't get me wrong, she was so good to them while they were growing up and never interfered with them or gave me any signs of what she was planning. She protected them and spoiled then a little. They went to the best private schools and never lacked anything. Their childhood could only be described as idyllic. But looking at what they have been forced to become, occasionally, just occasionally, on nights when the children are away or are having sex with Helena, I cry myself to sleep thinking about what might have been and of the normal lives that they should have led. I do not do it often as it distresses the Tukta and I do not like seeing her upset. At other times when I seem to be smiling I am actually crying inside.

No! Things are as they are and Tukta, the twins and myself just have to make the most of it but I will always be haunted by those silly nagging doubts, those 'what ifs' that haunt us all.

It was the end of August when the twins' doll returned from that awful Indian hospital. I learned that hey had kept her in a medical coma the whole time which means that she had no knowledge of what would have otherwise been a stressful and harrowing experience and so I thank heaven on her behalf for small mercies. Helena is a kind and thoughtful person and really does not like distressing those for whom she is responsible: her pets; the Tukta; the Twins; even myself. We are all treated with kindness and consideration at all times, so I should not complain.

The Tukta was brought up to the twins' bedroom and laid on my bed before Anna give her an injection to fully revive her. The doll was dressed in a simple white tunic which was the first garment that I had ever seen her wear. I must admit that she looked like a sleeping angel, lying there on my bed with her long black hair flowing over my pillows.

When she showed signs of waking, Anna, Helena's Australian pet who is also a trained nurse, withdrew to the hallway but remained within earshot in case of unforeseen difficulties. This left just the three of us, Saffie, Tilly and myself to witness her revival,

As we watched, her eyelids fluttered before she screwed up her pretty face and yawned. Slowly, her eyelids opened to reveal her beautiful, golden brown, doe-like eyes. Then as she looked around, her puzzled expression dissolved into a radiant smile as soon as she saw the twins standing there watching her. What are you thinking, my darling? I wondered as she struggled to sit up.

She must have felt the soft cotton tunic pressing against her golden skin because she glanced down, saw that she was wearing clothing for the first time in over a year and suddenly looked confused and not a little frightened.

Saffie moved forward and helped her to swing around until she was sitting on the edge of my bed. I hesitated, should I help? But no, I left it to the twins, she was their Tukta after all.

Then, playing her part, Tilly stepped forward and offered the doll a glass of water which she gratefully accepted and rapidly drank: her eyes saying 'thank-you'. It was clear that she was confused. What has happened to me? How did I get up here? Why am I wearing clothes? These questions must surely been running through her pretty head. She looked over to me and I smiled reassuringly and told her "Everything is fine."

This caused her to smile and relax. Concita says that everything is alright, so it must be!

Saffie bent down and kissed the top of her head receiving another radiant smile in return. Tukta really did love the twins, she had been conditioned too, after all!

Tilly then knelt by the side of their sex-doll and slowly, gently undid the buttons that were holding her tunic closed. We watched as it fell open and all of us, Tukta included, gasped as the world's latest trans-shemale was revealed in all of her glory. I must admit that the cock looked like a natural one and not something made by surgeon. But, I wondered, just what genius has decided to tie a large bow of purple ribbon around it?

Playing with our Doll (Tilly).

The afternoon that Tukta came home was fantastic as we had all really missed her. Yes by 'all' I'm including Concita because I am sure that in her own way, she is quite fond of our pet Siamese beauty too and I do know that they had sex together, usually when Saffie and I were sleeping with Mom. Not that we minded, we were more than happy for our dear Filipino nanny to share our things and to play with our doll.

Oh how Saffie and I had missed our beautiful and loving doll: we had both been ever so concerned about her safety. Were they treating her well? Were they being kind to her? Was she getting enough to eat? Was she missing us?

Imagine my surprise when we were informed that she had been unconscious for the whole two months and would not be able to remember any of it. Lucky, lucky Tukta!