The Club of Fools Ch. 05

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Jason is trained in feminity, no resistance possible.
5.1k words
4.68
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8

Part 5 of the 10 part series

Updated 06/07/2023
Created 03/20/2015
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Author's Notes as before:

(1) This is fiction;

(2) Do not read this chapter out of context. Read chapters 1-4;

(3) Jason is a masochist;

(4) Victoria is a sadist and possibly a psychopath, her actions illegal;

(5) Do NOT ever attempt "breath play" as it is described herein;

(6) Do NOT ever leave anyone in bondage as severe as this for as long as this and without supervision;

(7) This story has scenes in it that will be upsetting to most, interesting to some, and erotic to an even fewer number of people. I don't expect many readers.

(8) No masochists were harmed in the writing of this story.

*****

Jason slept, but there were dreams, lots of them, but all the same. He was walking through a shopping mall. It was crowded. Suddenly he realized he was dressed in a corset and he was unable to speak. A gag was locked into his mouth in some strange way and the corset was made of a strange steel-like flexible metal and locked as well. Someone kept prodding him in the back to move forward, always forward. In fact he couldn't go back. People were chasing him. His breathing and movement, as restricted as they were, caused him to slow down in fatigue. He was falling behind and they caught him. He was surrounded. They laughed; they prodded; they pushed him down and rolled him over, taking pictures and commenting on Facebook.

He woke up on his side with his catheter hose pulled up and over his left leg into that now familiar bucket. The lights were out and the room was lit only by moonlight. A toilet flushed in the distant reaches of the house, and then there was nothing. Jodi had left him for the night. Fantasy and reality were one and the same now, a misty pastel shading where there were no sharp boundaries even with pain; numbness replaced those boundaries, a soft squishy, unfeeling sort of thing. It was not sleep that came to him now; it was unconsciousness. Sub-space was like that sometimes.

Much later, a sunbeam from the front window traced its way across the room and he awoke in its path, blinking. It warmed the second skin of latex on his head to the point that his face was sweating, but he couldn't remove himself from it; his bondage was as firm and unyielding as ever and the futility of any attempt was obvious. His stomach growled, he was thirsty, and like a dog, he hoped that his owners would feed him soon and give him a bowl of water. He peed in the bucket and waited. The sunbeam moved to his leather bondage corset and heated it up now, so that his sweatiness changed location. He was sure he smelled.

But his mind was charged and busy. He went over the highlights of last evening in detail. Now Jodi knew that he was a crossdresser, a fetishist, and both virtually and literally owned by Victoria. She knew everything. He had spent that whole year and a half dating her, carefully avoiding the intimacy required to share with her his deepest and darkest secrets. And it just dawned on him at this moment that the lack of intimacy had also not allowed her to tell him of her perverted desires, not that it was deliberate on her part. After all, she did not seem ashamed by her fantasies, but he was sure ashamed of his. And now she knew. And not only that, but she seemed damned pissed off at him, enough anger there to almost kill him.

But she had ridden him to orgasm last night, and she had lost herself in that passion. What was that all about? He thought it through now, of the command of hers to not have an orgasm until she said so, the controlling of his air supply through the breathing tube when he was allowed to cum, and suddenly, in an epiphany, he had an idea. It was clear she enjoyed him as a sexual object, something to be used and stored away for future use. And he enjoyed being treated that way; he actually enjoyed it. Could he somehow use this as a roadmap to her heart, a bizarre map, but a map nonetheless? If he was submissive to her, maybe he could have her. Certainly his former identity was not going to fly with her, so why not be what she wanted? And what he now wanted.

He laid there and became aroused thinking of her, seeing her in his mind's eye, smelling her sweat and perfume and all those pheromones swirling about her. Maybe if he pleased her in this way, in this new role of submission, she could learn to love him again. He had been such an asshole. And what was the difference anyway? He had been a slave to the denial of his fantasies all his adult years. Could it be so different to now embrace them and be addicted to the reality of them, now that she knew all of his perverted desires?

Jason's thoughts rambled about, criss-crossing in random ways, and he had no idea that he had been broken by the events of the past two days; he had no idea that the way he was thinking now was completely different from the way he thought a week ago, a month ago. Something had cracked, and it was a clean break, with no pain, just the realization that whatever broke was bearing too much anyway. The break was inevitable. Now he was simply conforming to the psychological space he was in, like a pumpkin forced to grow between large rocks; he would survive by taking the shape that was given him.

Now he made plans in his sub-space stew of thought. He resolved to call all of them "ma'am" from now on. That would please them. And he wouldn't resist any longer; there was no point to that. It only led to this, this endless bondage, this pain of limb, and the silence and rejection. Yes, he liked being used, but he would prefer to be used while making himself useful to them by his own actions. As it was now, all he supplied was his penis or tongue, or his male vagina (as Victoria had called his asshole once) , and he could give so much more; he could be so much more.

Somebody leaned over him from behind and plugged his breathing tube. When he struggled, the hand left him. There was nothing else; the hand simply checked for signs of life in a clinical way like taking a pulse. It occurred to him to check his own extremities. He flexed his shoulders slightly and found that they ached slightly but were mostly just numb, and when his brain sent signals to wiggle his fingers within the mitten of the arm-binder, there was a moment of panic as he forgot how to move them. He tried harder and then he felt something, a tingly "foot-asleep" type of feeling and he didn't like it, so he stopped. His legs had always been free, at least below his knees, and he flexed them now. He tried to take a deep breath, but the bondage corset sealed him like in a tight sarcophagus, and the neck posture collar remained rigid, pushing his cheeks out above it and squishing the mouth gag firmly in this speechless eternity.

Time was not measurable except by the movement of that sunbeam across the floor. It must be late now, he thought, as the beam had marched across the floor and was bent and broken on the edge of the sofa. He puzzled over this for quite some time. Then the sunbeam disappeared suddenly. He moved his eyeballs toward the source of the blockage and saw Dougie standing there with a coffee and a piece of toast. Dougie shook his head in amusement at Jason's bondage predicament, and even went over to him to roll him over with his foot. Now he faced the hallway down to Victoria's bedroom.

Pressure was building in his bowels against the anal plug. He hoped they would get up and give him his enema soon; he felt so full at the very same time that his stomach growled with emptiness.

He waited.

He didn't realize his delirium until an awareness moment flooded over him in the bathroom. They were stripping him of his bondage once again and he felt that enema tube inside him, felt his stomach swell with the fluid. Then time skipped to the shower where they washed him and shaved him. He only vaguely realized that they shaved his face and removed all his body hair. His arms felt strange, useless, like the arms of a rag doll, but they had feeling at least. Now he was standing in front of the mirror and he saw the stripes of the boning of the corset on his skin, red and straight like the canals of Mars. He stood and waited to be bound within the corset again, but instead they fitted him with a white bra and black panties, as well as a white waist-cincher girdle which they did up in the front with the numerous hook and eye closures. It seemed like a throwback to the fifties as there were six garters attached which they now attached to his stockings which, in contrast, were black to match the panties. He had no recollection of even lifting his feet to put the stockings on.

A drink and a straw was thrust in front of him. "Drink this protein drink," Suzie said, "And I'll cook up some breakfast for you once we're done dressing you up."

"Thanks Su...uh, ma'am," he said, "Where's Jodi ma'am?" His voice croaked from lack of use.

"In the kitchen. No talking now. Drink up; I want to get your lipstick on."

The drink was like a tonic, and the clothing was too. It elevated his spirits, knowing that the bondage of the past two days was being replaced with this soft but tight female clothing, a second skin of tight reassurance. It felt absolutely wonderful, satiny and fresh with feminine perfumes, and he breathed deep breaths, filling his lungs while at the same time filling his stomach. Submitting like this, he felt so oddly free, and the humiliation of wearing female clothing was like a reward compared to what he had just gone through. He felt he had passed a test and was being rewarded in some bizarre way.

He finished the drink quickly and felt strength and awareness increase. His mascara and eyeshadow, as well as foundation makeup and highlights, were applied, finally followed by the red lipstick. He smacked his lips and tasted it as they fitted the blond wig over his head. The long hair tickled his bare neck.

Suzie said, "Okay, almost ready. You look like a man in drag, but in a good way. As long as there are no complaints, there'll be no serious bondage today. Put this blouse and skirt on and these high heels. I know these don't fit or suit you properly, but it's all we've got until we go shopping. Just so you'll know, Victoria has decided you're to be feminized and used in that way from now on."

Feminized, he thought. What did that mean? He looked in the mirror. "Oh," he said. He needed food.

Later and with difficulty, Jason entered the kitchen. His arms and shoulders ached as he teetered in his high heels waiting for acknowledgement. Dougie broke out laughing, Victoria smiled, while Jodi said, "Well, don't you look sweet in your outfit! Is this any better than what you have in your own closet?"

"I don't have any in my own closet ma'am."

"What? You've kept all your fantasies just in your head all these years?" Jodi asked, unconvinced.

"Yes ma'am."

She shook her head. "Well, no wonder you're so fucked up then!" she laughed.

"Jodi, uh ma'am, umm could we talk...alone?" Jason said hesitantly.

Jodi looked surprised and shocked. "No, I don't think so," she said quickly, "We're not done with you yet. You only speak when we ask you a question. That's the new reality. Understood?"

Jason answered like a soldier, keeping his chin up. "Yes ma'am," he said. Weirdly he felt that it was more comfortable that way; he didn't have to think, and in not thinking, he didn't need to be careful what he said. And there was nothing to hide now; he was bare like a charged wire.

He was told to sit while Suzie made some French toast and covered it with maple syrup. He sat down, noting how the clothing slipped and hissed on his now hairless body. He relished every mouthful of food, moving it around in his mouth to reach all his taste buds. How exquisite it tasted, and the coffee...how perfect! No corset, no gag, no arm-binder and no leather posture collar. This was like a dream.

Idol chatting went on around him as he ate, and everything seemed so normal that he smiled. The comfort of the clothing was unbelievable, even with the high heels. It was all relative, he knew, to the severity of his treatment earlier, but he didn't care. Right now he felt euphoric as the carbs and protein invigorated him. He remembered what Victoria had said in that dream (was it a dream?) : knowledge and humility will set you free. Well, he had learned a lot over the past little while, and he sat here, not humiliated, but in humility, simply glad to be out of bondage. Indeed, he did feel free.

Victoria noticed his smile and interrupted his thoughts, "Jason, after breakfast, we'll be taking your measurements for bras, girdles, skirts, dresses, blouses, all that stuff and discussing what size of breast forms to get for you. It turns out that Jodi here has a fondness for dressing men up as women, so she'll take the lead on the shopping. You don't have any work until Monday afternoon, so I'm scheduling you with my corsetiere for tomorrow morning at 9:00, where she'll take your measurements and create some custom corsets for you for delivery in about six weeks. Periodically you'll have to visit her for fittings. At 10:00 we'll go to a transgender store and fit you with a few pairs of high heels and boots, maybe get a purse or two as well. I'll pay for all of it initially and when I get a final tally, I'll let you know what it is and you can bring the money next Friday."

"Umm, what, uh, all this stuff? Uh, yes ma'am," he said, his thoughts ablaze with confusion and wondering how she knew he didn't work tomorrow morning. There were a lot of things he did not know, he realized. And a lot of things she did know.

Hands were all over him after breakfast, tape measurements and discussions ensued, and the atmosphere was one of subdued excitement. Finally Jodi said, "Suzie, could I borrow your computer?"

Suzie led all of them into the study, down the hall toward the kitchen from the bedroom, where she told Jodi to sit while she turned the computer on. Moments later, Jodi was on a site displaying French Maid's fantasy dresses, all frilly and some with crinolines which billowed the skirts out to almost horizontal. Within twenty minutes she had ordered two dresses, one pink with black lacy trim, the other the more traditional black with white lacy trim, complete with frilly bonnets. She turned to Jason and said, "You'll be doing the housework in these, both here and at my place every week. This is going to be so great, isn't it?"

"What? Jodi...I mean, yes ma'am." Maybe this wasn't as wonderful as he had thought. Or maybe he was thinking straighter since being fed, but the commands and plans for him were escalating fast, and he wondered where all this was going. In his mind, he just wanted to be with Jodi, but she was being so distant and hard edged. He had to learn to just do as he was told, but surely there had to be limits, didn't there? Maid's dresses? Even women thought they were silly. So why did he have to wear them?

At noon, Jodi said her goodbyes and thank-yous and left, briefly pausing to kiss Jason on the cheek. "It's been a real pleasure meeting you finally, the real you, the perverted you. I've got a feeling I'm going to be using" (she laughed) , "umm, seeing a lot of you from now on, sissy-boy." And she left, patting him on his girdled derriere as she walked out the door.

Jason was left standing in her pheromone mist, hard under his skirt and girdle, wanting her desperately. She said she would be seeing a lot of him, and no matter what that meant, whether it be in bondage or dressed like this, or both, he looked upon that news as good news.

The rest of the day passed with Jason trying to do the housework without complaints and doing everything that he was told to do. At 5:00, he was told to undress and get back into his chastity device and male clothes and leave, to arrive again on Friday of that week.

It wasn't until he got home that he realized he still had the anal plug inserted. Many things had become normal and natural to him lately, and if he was totally honest with himself, he was enjoying the master plans laid out for him. In fact he had decided to facilitate his changes, resolving to start doing his anal cleaning on a daily basis, and instead of using a stainless steel plug he would use a silicone one during the days that he was working his cases at the courthouse. He was excited by the prospect of being a proficient lawyer at the same time he had an anal plug massaging his prostate. When he smiled at the Lady Magistrate now, there would be more to it than she would ever know.

The corset measurements were finished on Monday morning by 9:30. It had been a strange and tense experience for him. The proprietor had asked, "So, when will you have your surgery?"

Jason had acted surprised and said, "What? What surgery?"

"You know, SRS (Sex Reassignment Surgery) . How long have you been on hormones?"

"Hormones? Umm..."

Victoria had saved him by saying, "No, he's just a gay transvestite and he wants to dress like a woman."

"Oh, I'm so sorry; I just thought you looked so nice and all and I, well, I thought... It doesn't matter, let's just get the measurements right. If I do this right, you'll have a beautiful figure."

Jason's face had been as red as a beet at that point and Victoria had laughed and said, "He says he's not gay, but let's face it, it's hard to get a date with a woman when you wear women's clothes."

The proprietor smiled and said in agreement, "I bet it is."

Thankfully Victoria took him to an obscure transgender shop where he was fitted with several pairs of high heeled shoes and boots of many styles. He also tried on many bras with various breast inserts made in various ways, the solid silicone to the more liquefied variety. A self-adhesive style at size 36C was settled upon and as he felt its weight in the bra, the straps transferred that weight to his shoulders, giving that odd fantasy of being actually his. He lingered there after Victoria left, surveying the vastness of tricks available to males seeking to be females, making notes in his mind. A week ago, he wouldn't have been caught dead in this place, but now he walked about with his chin up and his shoulders back actively holding clothes out, imagining them on him and moving on. For the first time in his adult life he felt alive and truly excited.

Friday arrived once again. He gave Victoria $1,843.00 and was instructed to go to the ensuite bathroom adjacent to Victoria's bedroom where Suzie sized him up and attached the breast forms to his hairless chest. He held them there self-consciously for a few moments while they "set" and then let them go. The weight shocked him, as they bounced downward and he felt a pull at his upper pectoral muscles. It felt erotic to him but at the same time slightly unpleasant. The bra that he donned now removed the unpleasantness with a degree of support that only a woman would understand. Then he changed into the clothes laid out for him, the Spanx high-waist and long-leg cincher girdle, the hose and panties.

"I know you like the tightness, don't you sweetie? It has the added benefit of eliminating your male bulge. You're going to serve tonight, so put this maid's dress on, and these shoes."

In the end, he was told to put on his latex hood, the one with the gag and breathing tube, and the wig was added to the top of his head. He stared at himself in the mirror and was revolted by what he saw. Sure, the feeling on his skin was sensational, but his look was bizarre and humiliating. For that reason, he was thankful he had the latex hood on.

As he served the female guests throughout the evening, they poked at him and fondled him, laughing at his grotesque fetish attire. Another male was there that night as well and he was dressed entirely in latex from tips of fingers and toes to the top of his head. Underneath, he was given breasts to mimic a woman, but his male bulge was undeniable. His arms were cocooned within that dreaded arm-binder and he stood at various places, not knowing what to do or where to stand. Periodically their eyes met and an understanding blink and nod reflected their slavery to these women.

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