Steph Becomes Gyrl Becomes Lady

Chapter 1 - Friday evening: the beginning of a weekend.

They always enjoyed Steph coming to stay. She was their niece. She was sweet. She was bubbly. She was pretty - she was slim with long black hair, shapely - one day she would be a very beautiful woman - all she lacked was the confidence. For several years she had come to stay once a month for a weekend, and they had had lots of good times together. They had gone to the pictures. Eaten at MacDonalds. Gone for walks. Watched the telly. As she grew to her late teens they wondered if she would find a boyfriend, or choose to stay at home to spend time with friends, but she didn't appear to. She rarely missed her weekend with her "Uncle Les" and "Auntie Joan" every month even though she was now twenty.

From Steph's point of view she loved visiting. She knew that Les and Joan weren't real aunt and uncle - Les was a cousin of hers, Joan his wife, but they were a bit older - in their late thirties, and she had always called them Auntie and Uncle. They were kind, friendly, funny - not in a strange way - they made her laugh and giggle - and did nice things with her. Yes, she had friends, and once had a boyfriend, but she had never wanted to miss her weekend - 29 days a month with family and friends was enough, 2 days with Uncle Les and Auntie Joan were not to be missed. And they were easy to visit - living a bus ride, twenty miles, from her home.

This time, as Steph approached their door, she was distracted. Still wondering about the last couple of weeks, and what it might mean. She had lost her journal. She didn't call it a diary - she only wrote in it every so often, not every day - but it was lost. Her journal was very personal. She had no idea where it had gone: it had completely disappeared. On one level she wasn't too worried - she typed it, never put real names in it - just initials - and she probably couldn't get "blackmailed" through it. But it was very personal. It recorded her fantasies. Her dreams. Her hopes. She had printed stories off the internet that had appealed to her, and stuck them in. She was distracted because although she felt safe, she had been thinking for the hour bus ride how much the journal had meant to her - it was her most private place of all.

At last Steph reached the door, rang the bell, and was excited to see Auntie Joan answer the door. For the moment her worries were forgotten as she was welcomed in, given a coffee, questioned about her parents, brothers and sister, made to talk about college - it happened every time she visited and she loved it - that these people were so interested in her. They were what real Aunts and Uncles should be. They chattered away through tea, washing up, they watched a programme or two on the telly. At about 8 pm they turned the telly off - nothing anyone wanted to see. Steph thought they might play a game, or something like that - she enjoyed playing games with her aunt and uncle. At 20 you don't play games with friends and family, but on these weekends it was nice to be a bit girly and childlike and do those things she had enjoyed so much when younger. But it was uncle Les who spoke first.

"Steph," he paused. "Last time you were here, we were clearing up your room, and found you had left this." Uncle Les held up the note book she used as her journal.

At first Steph was relieved - it had been found, everything was safe. No harm done. But quickly it turned to concern in the quiet - what if they had looked in it, or read some of it. It was very personal. She went bright red with embarrassment. Something not lost on Auntie Jean, who continued.

"Why are you embarrassed honey?" She spoke very affectionately.

Steph stuttered out her answer "Nothing.....um, nothing............." She composed herself. "Can I have it back please?"

It was Uncle Les who continued, a twinkle in his eye, a twinkle in his voice. "I wonder if you are embarrassed because you wrote something like this............." He paused and opened the book, then began to read: "Love all these stories where the girl submits. Where the man makes her his sex slave......."

Uncle Les paused. "Or perhaps this one........." Again her turned over the pages in the book, then began to read. "Watched Mark on the telly. Would do anything for him. Wish he would tie me up and use me for whatever he wants." Mark was the lead singer in Steph's favourite boy band. Again a pause as uncle Les turned over the pages: "Or perhaps this: dreamt last night of being tied naked to a bed and Mark take me over and over, and put his thing in my mouth. Had to play with myself twice before I could risk getting up."

Uncle Les read several more paragraphs, while Steph sat there silently. At last he closed the book and handed it to her. She took it mechanically, paralysed with embarrassment, guilt, fear. She held it to herself and began to cry. Auntie Joan sat next to her, put her arms round her and Steph allowed herself to be hugged. Auntie Joan said, several times, "It's alright honey."

At last the tears stopped, and Auntie Joan moved to a chair nearby. It was Uncle Les who spoke quietly. "Is this what you want, honey? Do you want to submit to someone? Do you want someone to dominate you?"

Steph paused, perhaps for a minute, before she summoned up the strength to speak. She spoke hesitatingly "Yes. No, well, sometimes, not all the time, don't want to be really hurt, but someone to control me, use me.............." her voice trailed off.

Again it was Les who spoke. "Honey, we will do that for you, if you want. We know what we are doing. We adore you and would never hurt you. If you want, you can submit to us. Completely. It will change everything. I suppose it already has. But the weekends will be completely different. You can, if you want, be our servant, our slave, for these weekends."

Uncle Les paused. "I know it's a difficult decision. Let me tell you how it works before you decide. First - you have to choose it. We will not do anything if you haven't chosen it. Secondly there does have to be punishments, and we use this paddle for those - it stings, but not horribly." Uncle Les showed her something which looked like an elongated table tennis bat. "And thirdly, you can pull out whenever you want, and we will think none the worse of you. That clock..........." Uncle Les pointed at a clock in the corner of the room: "..............that clock chimes every hour. If you ask to leave within one minute of that clock chiming, we will simply let you go. It means that every hour you have to choose to stay."

Again a pause. It was Auntie Joan who spoke this time. "Honey, I know it takes time to choose. Why don't you go to your room, and think about it. In your room you will find a set of black bra, panties, stockings and suspenders. They are yours. But if you come down here this evening, sometime, wearing them and only them, then we will take it you want to submit. Wear anything else, and we'll just make you a cup of cocoa and you can watch some more telly with us. There's a good film on later......."

Steph loved the chance to escape. She loved her room - it felt so safe and warm and cosy. "Thank you, Auntie Joan.........." She almost ran out of the room, her life seemingly turned upside down in minutes. Found out. Given the chance for real. For the first time seeing Uncle Les and Auntie Joan in a different light. Uncle Les, quite muscular, bearded, quite tall. A gentle bear of a man. Auntie Joan, slim, smaller, with short dark hair, much more business-like about things. Yes - attractive people, as well as being really nice to her, until now......... But they were still being nice, giving her the choice, respecting her .......

For ages Steph mulled these things over in her mind, wondering what to do.

Once Steph wanted to ask a question, and wondered whether she could, or whether she should go downstairs again, but didn't want to. At last she decided - she would phone. She got her cellphone, rang Uncle Les and Aunt Joan's number. It was Auntie Joan who answered. Steph was very nervous. "Please Auntie Joan, what will you do to me.............?" Her voice trailed away as she immediately regretted the phone call.

Auntie Joan had affection in her voice. "Honey, I can't tell you that, but you have to trust us. Put yourselves in our hands. It will be good." She paused, then ended the call. "Honey, we'll see you in a bit."

Steph still couldn't decide - part of her wanted to run away. Now. Get on the bus home. Part of her wanted the weekend to be like all the others. All of her conscious mind said she did not want to do what her Auntie and Uncle were suggesting. But then............

But then a thought came to her mind. Why not try them on? She had never worn underwear as pretty as those on her bed. She could just try them on to see what she looked like in them, to see what they felt like. Try them on for a couple of minutes, then dress in her Jeans and t-shirt again.

Quickly Steph slipped out of her clothes. She put on the bra and panties. It took her a few moments to put on the suspenders and get them right. It took her a couple of minutes to put on the stockings and to hold them with the suspenders - she had never done that before. Then she looked in a mirror - a long mirror hanging on the wall.

Steph gasped - she looked sensational, or so she thought. All of those years she had worn Jeans and T-shirts, sometimes a dress to a party. But suddenly at this moment everything changed. She WAS a lady. She was an adult. She was a sexual object. Of course she had had sex with her boyfriend and it had been okay, but that was just a boy emptying himself into a girl. Now here she was a woman. A sexual being. She like what she saw. Then she giggled - she would never stop being a girl, but she was adding another layer on top. A new part of her was appearing. She enjoyed wearing the black underwear. Perhaps she should run away with them, get the bus home, ask Auntie Joan if she could keep them..........her mind was suddenly in a whirl again.

Ten minutes later she was walking down the stairs. Everything in her mind told her to run, put her Jeans on, return to being the little girl. But somehow her legs decided what her mind couldn't. She was walking down the stairs. Wearing black bra. And stockings. And suspenders. And panties. And nothing else. Why? She didn't know. Stop, her mind screamed. But something kept her going. She was at the bottom of the stairs. Turn back, her mind told her. Her legs took over her arms. She realised she was knocking gently on the sitting room door. Standing outside. She could still run. Turn back.

The door opened, Auntie Joan was stood there, smiling broadly. "Come on in, honey." She pointed to a spot on the carpet in front of the sofa, in front of uncle Les. "Stand there, honey."

Slowly her legs took her across the sitting room, she stood where she had been shown, facing towards Uncle Les. Her eyes were firmly fixed on the floor.

For several moments he looked at her, then said very quietly: "Honey, you are very very beautiful."

Uncle Les and Auntie Joan sat beside each other, and looked at the young lady in front of them. The sweet little girl in the last hour had transformed into a sensational young lady. Uncle Les stood up, walked around Steph, admiring her beauty, her figure. She was slim, but very shapely. Once Steph felt his finger start behind her knee and run slowly up her thigh, over her ass and end at her shoulder blade. She shivered, but otherwise knew she shouldn't move. A few moments later she felt uncle Les gently catch hold the top of one of the bra cups and pull it down, revealing one of her breasts, revealing her nipple. She was acutely embarrassed - the nipple stiffened instantly, but Uncle Les only said to Auntie Joan what amazing titties she had.

It was strange, she felt really good. And she was aware of something else. She was tingling. She couldn't think of any other word for it. She was tingling. Between her legs. She had never felt that before, as much as she had made love a few times to her boyfriend, and regularly played with herself, but this was something different. She was also aware that her panties were quite damp. She didn't move, but what was happening to her - thought it felt fantastic - added to her embarrassment.

Suddenly she felt she had been left alone, her tittie still free of the bra. She looked up, and saw that Uncle Les had gone to a cupboard and was taking something out. He brought it across to her, but she couldn't make it out. But he spoke to her.

"Steph, I have here a leather collar. For you. Whenever you are being our sub, you must wear this collar. Here, would you like to see it?"

Uncle Les handed her the collar which she took reluctantly. She looked at it. It was leather. It had a number of rings attached to it. There was a fastening loop which had a small padlock attached to it. There was a plaque fixed to it which had one word - Gyrl. She was terrified, and even more embarrassed to feel the tingling between her legs get even stronger. Uncle Les took it back.

Uncle Les continued. "Whenever you stay with us, you need to fetch the collar - kept in that drawer over there.........." He pointed across the room, before continuing. ".............and bring it to one of us to put on you. When you leave, we'll remove it. And of course, like we said - whenever the clock strikes, you are welcome to ask to be released, and we will release you. Of course there are one or two other things - whenever you wear it you call me master, call Joan mistress. We will call you Gyrl - thought that would be a nice name for you."

Uncle Les paused. "Honey, I know there is a lot to take in. Would you like me to fix the collar now?"

Steph paused. She couldn't turn back. She spoke quietly. "Yes please, master."

Steph felt the leather strap around her neck - not tight, not loose. She heard the lock click. She suddenly had a thought panic through her mind. "The keys, where are the keys............?"

Uncle Les laughed. "Gyrl. I have a key. Mistress has a key. The keys are safe."

The rest of the evening seemed surreal. "Mistress" - Auntie Joan - took Steph - Gyrl - upstairs, and together they had a girly hour as they chose clothes suitable for her. There were pyjamas to sleep in. A dress to wear outside. Several sets of underwear of different styles and colours - she particularly like the mid blue set. At last they had a wardrobe for the weekend, chosen from a store that Master and Mistress - as she would have to get to call them - had in a spare room. As they finished Mistress said to her: "Look at the time. It will be time to go to bed soon. We'll make cocoa, get you ready then put you in bed." They had both looked at the clock - it was well past eleven.

Mistress spoke again, affectionately. "Gyrl, before we go down there is one or two other things. I know there are a lot of rules, but can I give you one more." She paused, before continuing. "Gyrl - some of this can be very exciting. Can make you sexually charged. Highly charged. Remember this..........." she spoke almost severely: ".....................remember this, you are not to orgasm without our express opinion. You will be allowed to and made to, but only when we say. Do you understand?"

Gyrl was shocked by the strength of Mistresses voice, and also by her lack of inhibition in mentioning it. She spoke quietly: "Yes, Mistress."

For the next half hour the three prepared themselves for bed. They cleaned teeth, drank cocoa. Gyrl went to the spare room - her room - and put on the little girl pyjamas they had chosen for her, with cute teddy bears. She lay on her bed, ready to sleep. It was uncle Les who appeared, or Master as she was learning to call him.

He spoke quietly to her. "Gyrl, you are not sleeping here. Come with me." They went through to Master and Mistress's bedroom. "You will sleep there."

Master pointed to a small bed at the foot of the main bed. "Come and sit here for a moment." Gyrl sat on the edge of the small bed. "We just need to fix this............."

Gyrl gasped as Master pulled a length of thin chain from under the bed, and went to move away as he moved to attach it to the collar. Master spoke one word: "Gyrl!" Steph sat still, as Master attached the chain to the collar and snapped the lock shut. For a moment panic swept through her, but then she looked at the chain. It was attached at the other end to the bar of the main bed, and was maybe two metres long - it was long enough for her to stand, and to move around.

As the panic subsided, Mistress spoke to her affectionately. "Now then Gyrl, time to sleep. Lie down."

Gyrl did lie down her mind whirling as Master and Mistress left the room. This was so wrong. It made her feel safe. She couldn't dream of anything better. She would never sleep...................

Chapter 2: Saturday Morning: Found Out.........

Gyrl woke, with daylight already pouring into the bedroom. Three things leapt into her mind as she came round from a solid night's sleep. Firstly - it was morning. Secondly the recollection of dreams, images, half-formed pictures that had whirled through her mind. They were pictures that she couldn't pin down, but all felt very erotic. Whatever the dreams were she knew - the pictures had left her aroused in a way she had never been aroused before. Instantly her hand moved inside her pyjamas to between her legs, seeking her clitoris which felt like it was burning for satisfaction. Thirdly she felt her bed rocking slightly, and then tuned into the sounds. It was obvious from the moans, the gentle obscenities, that Master and Mistress were making love. It made Gyrl feel even more excited. But still embarrassed. As her fingers pressed and played with her clit, she was determined to be silent, and she was, her body exploding into a silent orgasm seconds before Master and Mistress hit theirs with moans and groans and grunts.

A few minutes later Master and Mistress got out of bed, looked at Gyrl who seemed to be asleep and headed for the shower. Minutes later Gyrl could hear them making breakfast downstairs. One thing nagged her mind. She had remembered the moment her orgasm was over what Mistress had said the night before - her lust had thrown it out of her mind. She had to have permission to masturbate. And she hadn't had permission. Hopefully Master and Mistress wouldn't know, wouldn't realise. She wouldn't tell them.

Minutes later Mistress appeared, released the chain, wished Gyrl a good morning, and left her to get ready for the day. Gyrl went to the bathroom, dressed in the blue set of underwear she had so liked the previous evening and went downstairs, feeling more elated than she had. This was................this submissive thing..............she struggled to find the right word. Fun. It was fun. Because it made her feel safe.

The three had breakfast together, chatting about the day, almost as if there was nothing new happening at all this weekend. It was one of the old weekends as they had always been. Gyrl and Mistress stacked the dish-washer as the usually did. As they closed the door of the washer, Mistress spoke in a more serious tone, but seemingly innocent, as if she didn't know.

"Gyrl. Have you played with yourself?"

For a moment Gyrl looked started, then replied. "Of course not, Mistress." The lie had come without a thought.

Mistress spoke again, in an innocent voice, that gave nothing away. "Do you just want to go and sit on the settee and we'll talk about what we are going to do today." Gyrl did. A couple of minutes later Master and Mistress both appeared, Master sitting in an armchair, Mistress sitting at the other end of the sofa. It was Mistress who spoke very quietly. "Gyrl, you masturbated this morning." It wasn't a question - she knew. Gyrl's heart leapt. Panicked. What? They knew? What would happen?