The Club of Fools Ch. 09

Author's Notes:

(1) This is fiction, just a story;

(2) One should never start a book at chapter 9. This story as a whole is way longer than I anticipated when I started, too long for those who hate it, not long enough for those who like it...apologies to the latter group;

(3) Jason is not being exploited by anyone except himself, and shouldn't we all exploit ourselves?

(4) Slavery is illegal. That does not mean it is not real;

(5) This chapter flies through time, and is not as erotic as many would like, but it is necessary to the final results of the story. As usual, I don't expect many readers.

*****

Jason never moved back into his own house. Following his "mind-fuck" he lived alternately at Victoria's and Jodi's houses. He still had to be constantly trained and disciplined, so the dungeon at Victoria's place was put to good use whenever he failed to graduate in his feminization at Jodi's place. It was not a forced process; everything that happened, Jason wanted to happen. To be clear, he was strange that way, as many are. The psychological feedback molded him like clay and he took to his new name chosen by Jodi, Janice, and he came to automatically answer to it. The corseting was constant and it came to symbolize his narrowing choices in life as the corset became tighter and tighter. There was a maximum of one hour a day free of the tight-lacing (and most often less than half an hour), during which he performed his enema, shaved his body, and showered. His corseted waist over the next few months decreased by three inches, and with some cleverly placed padding in some of his underwear at his hips and derriere, he had a body most women would die for. And his hair, now long, was styled wavy and bleached blond with darker highlights. It cascaded to his lower neck and tickled his back when he went strapless in some of his gowns. His fingernails also became his own, growing out nicely under the gel nails he had been given initially, the gel no longer needed.

Jodi had been administering a light but constant regimen of female training, some subtle, some of it by seemingly blunt trauma, but he changed, slowly and surely, his maleness in full withdrawal. Once, he was tested. He didn't know he was, but one evening at Victoria's place, he was told that he could have another woman, a night of "stress-less' sex, no obligations of bondage or service to a dominant female. He was excited by this, and he waited in the dungeon, nude, for the first time in many weeks free of feminine undergarments. Two stunning women entered as he was watching TV, and offered themselves to him. Their clothing was plain, feminine but normal, and as they removed it, instead of becoming aroused, he became agitated and after some time he tried to remove himself. When one of them put on a corset, told him to put a corset on as well, and threatened to fuck him with a strap-on, he suddenly became very aroused.

His sexual conditioning was now complete; he was not aroused in a normal way any longer, and he never could be again. After the experiment, the outcome was explained to him, and he nodded silently. There was no turning back, and in fact, there was some comfort for him in having this understanding. His sexual confusion became less of an issue. He knew what he liked, could respond to nothing else, and his sexual preferences were being presented to him on a regular basis like a continuous supply of oxycodone or morphine.

The first week after he had his eyebrows done on his "mind-fuck" weekend, there had been some awkward moments in the courtroom. At one point in the middle of a trial, while an exhibit was being set up and there was time to kill, the judge, a kindly senior man but with conservative viewpoints, called him to the bench.

"Mr. Steele," he said, "You look different. What is it? It's your eyebrows. Is it your eyebrows?"

Jason had squirmed and turned red. The fact that he was tightly laced in a corset, was wearing nylon hose under his clothing, and was plugged with an anal plug made it much more traumatic. But he thrived on that now and found it all strangely erotic nonetheless. "Yes, Your Honor," he said, "They were plucked."

The judge stared at him and said gruffly, "Why? You look like a woman. I find that disconcerting. I suppose you're wearing women's underwear too?"

Jason's heart skipped a beat but he found a way to use the last comment to his advantage. "Yes Your Honor, I am." And he winked and smiled.

The judge tilted his head, slightly shocked, and then thinking that was a joke, smiled with amusement and said, "Alright then, let's get back to work, shall we?"

The following week Jason slept in one morning. Being late for the morning briefing in the board room of his law firm was frowned upon, so he prepared for his day as usual, but with a haste uncharacteristic of him, doing his enema, showering, body shaving etc. He arrived at the meeting just as the senior partner entered, and he had to sit down in the least wanted seat, next to him. As Jason laid out his notes and papers however, silence descended upon the room as everyone in turn glanced at Jason awkwardly and then turned away with barely concealed smiles. Jason's hands were on the table, palm-down in front of him and there they were: excessively long bright red nails, all glossy and shining in the unforgiving board room light.

For many weeks now he had been applying nail polish in the evenings and removing it before he went to work in the morning, so it was 14 hours with and 10 hours without, every day except weekends when he went the full weekend as a woman. He became used to the red polished look in the evening and weekends however, and it slowly became normal for him. All he could do now at the board room table was make a fist with both hands and say nothing. The meeting rambled on as usual and ended without any comments upon his beautification, but as he stood to leave, the senior partner said, "Jason, could you come to my office please. We have some things we need to discuss."

The meeting did not go well.

"Mr. Steele," he started, "Do you think I'm slow or stupid?"

Jason's heart skipped. This was not good. "No, of course not sir."

"I'll get to the point. Your eyebrows are quite feminine, have been for some time I believe. You have mascara on this morning and your nails are long and painted bright red. What am I to think?"

Damn that waterproof mascara; It didn't come off in the shower, he thought. Jason was flustered. "Sir, I'll fix all this right away sir." But he offered no explanation as to why it was so in the first place; there was none to offer.

"No Jason, I don't think you can fix this right away. It's something else, isn't it? You're transgender or something like that aren't you? I'll be honest; this firm does not quite believe in the transgender nation. To be blunt, you can't continue to pursue cases with this firm if you look like someone in a gay pride parade. You've lost a lot of credibility lately, your billings are down, and quite frankly, your value here is tarnished to say the least. You know what to do, and you have two weeks to do it. You can sue us if you wish, but I don't think that would be wise."

His resignation was accepted a week later, and after a long soul search, he set up his own office on the edge of downtown, coincidentally near the transgender shop where he had been fitted with his bra inserts many months ago. Business was poor, as expected, but Victoria's kinky friends were beginning to see him as a tool for kinky rights in law, so things were slowly changing. It also helped that he put an ad up inside the transgender shop that he would represent clients if it was perceived that their rights had been trampled.

He was well into the permanent electrolytic removal of facial and eyebrow hair by the end of February, and the results were encouraging. No scarring, no serious burning, just clean hairless skin. It would take years, but he had resigned himself to remove all his body hair as soon as physically possible. With no hair, he could still pass as male during work hours, but it seemed odd to him that he was now thinking that way; he used to wonder if he could pass as female.

The most stressful and difficult decision he had to make was concerning his breasts. He had come to hate his own chest, flat and masculine, but he had also come to hate the preparations of re-applying the fake breasts every few days. Yes, they felt real, bouncing and jiggling when he moved, but they weren't real, and now he believed that there was this one final decision to make, one from which there was no return. If he decided one way, he would have to come out as transgender, the other, and he would always be a fake female, one in fantasy only, a weekend plaything. In late January he talked to Jodi about it.

They were up late drinking wine after watching a movie in late December. As usual he was dressed in a skirt and blouse and very relaxed, and he said, "I'm scared."

It was an abrupt departure from their conversation, and Jodie looked at him sharply in concern. "Scared? Scared of what?"

"I want breast implants," he said simply.

Jodi smiled and said, "Congratulations! I've always wanted a woman with a cock." And she giggled. Then she said, "But why are you scared?"

"Same reason. I want breast implants."

"Huh?"

"Look," he said, "If I get breast implants, I come out of the closet; there's no going back."

Jodi took her head off his shoulder and turned to look deeply into his eyes, whispering, "Janice" (she called him that now) "There's no going back now anyway. You have to face that. You're transgender. You have to face your peers in your profession, your friends, your family, and most of all, the public at large, and let them judge you by the person you are, not your gender."

Janice looked down at the floor, away from Jodi's gaze and said, "I know. I find the idea of that incredibly exciting. That's what scares me. Where are we going with this? Where am I going with this?"

"Janice," she said reassuringly, "For all intents and purposes, you're a woman right now, right? I mean, look at you; you're gorgeous! Are you going to run to the basement to hide every time the doorbell rings in the evening or on the weekend just because you're dressed and made up as a woman? Forever?"

Jodi cocked her head and smiled a silly smile. "Be a man, Janice; get the implants. Who's more important to you, me or all the other people out there?" She swept her arm around the room to indicate the world at large. "I'm the only one who's important to you now. Remember that. And you agreed, you have to obey me." She winked.

He couldn't help it; he laughed. "That's right; I did agree to that, didn't I? But how can I be a man and choose breast implants?"

She responded immediately with, "And how can you be a woman and not?"

They sat silently for quite some time. Finally he leaned forward and said with suppressed excitement, "Jesus, I have to, don't I?" It was a rhetorical question, as he had made the decision. He immediately knew it was the right one, because he felt euphoric and free and light as if he had been dragging an anchor up until now. The very next day, Jodi talked to Joanie who pulled strings in her medical profession and it was set up, surgery for the tissue expander in late April, installation of saline implants in June. This had been disappointing, as the wedding was slated for late March, but there were physical issues which could not be avoided: his skin was tight, and could not accept the 500cc of saline fluid that he wanted for breast size, not without prior expansion. Timing could not always be perfect.

Jason continued to appear as a male during work hours, but female in the evenings and weekends. His female mannerisms continued to overtake his male side, making it more and more difficult to switch back and forth between genders when required. He even started to cry. He cried when he was sad; he cried when he was happy, and initially it was disconcerting. He even accused Jodi and Victoria of secretly giving him female hormones, but they adamantly denied it. After some discussion, it was decided that he was simply freeing up his inner soul with his other changes, like it was a therapeutic result of his feminization, a placebo effect, and maybe that was true. But he still felt male, unable to fully interact with the public at large, so Jodi kept training him in the delicate art of appearing feminine, encouraging and prodding, pushing and pulling. Slowly, he became a person, not a lawyer, not a man, not even a woman, but a real live soul-bearing person, for the first time unabashedly happy around those that loved him. But outside of that circle, not so much.

The wedding date had been set for the last Sunday in March. Today was March 10th, and it had been special. Janice's wedding dress had gone through its final alteration and the final fitting had taken place. It was a thing of beauty, a brocade strapless, fit and flare gown, pink in color, with a beaded lace bodice and ultra-feminine sweetheart neckline. Because he had not had surgical breast augmentation and was still wearing the self-adhesive silicone breasts, a sheer over the shoulder, lace accented covering had been added to distract the observer away from his poor cleavage. The dress was fully lined with satin, and when it fell down upon him and was zipped tightly up the back, the weight of it was astonishing. It fell down to his feet as if there were lead weights in the hem and the satin slipped over his corset and the padded girdle, sighing with every slight movement. The fit was perfect, and for the first time in his life, he had a complete psychological flip so that he looked at himself as being a woman. For the first time there was no doubt in his mind as to what gender he felt himself to be and it was a turning point, one of many over the past several months, but this bigger than all the rest.

Suddenly, it all fell into place. The next day, Janice got out of bed with resolve and excitement, went through his daily preparations for his inner hidden self, the enema, the anal plug, the corseting and tightening of it by Jodi, but this morning he said to her, "Jodi, what would a small independent female lawyer wear to work?"

As she pulled on the corset laces, Jodi smiled almost imperceptibly and answered, "Well, I think I'd go with a conservative black skirt and white blouse which shows breasts but in a covered way, no cleavage, and some lightly patterned hose with three inch black heels. Nothing fancy. That's what I'd suggest to any female lawyer just starting out on her journey. And just what female lawyer would you be asking about anyway?"

Janice drew in a quick breath, blew it out quickly for stress relief, and said, "Jodi, I'm going to do it. I'm coming out."

"It's about time, you twit!" she answered playfully, "You simply can't get any more feminine than you are now. The only thing you have to watch out for is nervousness. You WILL be gawked at, by both men and women. Men want to see if you're worthy of fucking; women want to see what you're wearing and see if you're a threat to men choosing them. It's so stupid, but it's evolution at work I guess, and we have no control over that. You'll be fine, as long as you just relax and be yourself."

It was a blustery March day, colder than the thermometer said, as March often was. Janice's overcoat was tied tight at his waist, and he picked his way from the parking lot two blocks away to the office, trying to negotiate the odd ice patch on the sidewalk in four-inch heeled knee-high boots. He carried his more conservative shoes in a bag along with his purse slung over his shoulder. Waiting at the stoplights, he tried not to look afraid and nervous, but he was. Discreet glances at strangers occasionally revealed what Jodi had warned him about, but for the most part, people were more concerned about staying warm.

The corset seemed tighter than usual this morning, the anal plug larger, and his breasts bounced and jiggled with an increased erotic tremor as he walked. When he entered his office, Jeanie greeted him, "Good morning ma'am. Can I help you? Do you have an appointment?"

He had hired Jeanie three weeks before, and she had been worth her weight in gold, and that would have been a considerable fortune. Her flesh jiggled when she got up to help him out of his coat.

"Jeanie, it's me. It's Jason, umm Janice..." He waited for a reaction but there was none.

As Jeanie took his coat and hung it up, she turned and said, "Oh, sorry, I thought you were a client. You look lovely Jas, uh, Janice, just lovely. Your usual coffee? Mrs. Giovani will be here for her appointment at 10:00. Here's your file."

Janice looked at her as he unzipped his boots and put on his lower heeled shoes. "You knew? You knew about me?"

Jeanie sat down behind her desk and put her elbows on it, clasping her hands. "Of course I knew sir, err ma'am. Okay, that's hard...can I just call you Janice then? Anyway, you, umm, you just had that look, and don't forget the corset; you've had one on every day. Women notice things like that I guess. I wonder if you'll learn to notice stuff like that too. Anyway, congratulations!"

"What? What for?"

"For coming out. I suspect it's been a long journey for you."

Janice became overwhelmed with happiness with Jeanie's greeting, so he walked around her desk, gave her a big hug, and said, "Thanks Jeanie; that means a lot to me, especially your underwhelming reaction."

Jeanie said, "And I assume you chose today because your father is coming in to take you to lunch? He must be a sweet man to do that."

Janice's heart seemed to stop. "Today? He's coming in today? Oh Jesus! Oh shit, and I can't go home and change either...too much to do here." He paced back and forth.

"Uh-oh. I take it he doesn't know yet?" Jeanie asked.

"No. I didn't know how I was going to do this with him and Mom. Maybe I should warn him? Oh shit!"

"How's his heart?" Jeanie asked, with all seriousness.

"Oh it's fine."

"Then maybe this is the best way...shock and awe..."

Janice looked into the distance, well beyond the walls of the small office, and said wistfully, "Maybe it is; maybe it is. There's no right place and right time for something like this to take place anyway. I remember now. I was supposed to meet him at Bruster's. Better in public than in private maybe...I don't know..."

He decided to just do it. When he entered Bruster's at 11:55, the place was busy, almost full already. As he took his coat off, Janice's hands trembled and the corset's tightness didn't allow him as much oxygen as he would have liked, to the point that he briefly felt dizzy. As the receptionist took his coat she said, "Do you have a reservation ma'am?"

She called him ma'am. He got a rush from the top of his thighs to the base of his neck. She actually called him ma'am. "Mr. Steele's table please," he said.

"Oh yes, right this way then..." He followed her with growing trepidation, weaving this way and that way, avoiding table edges, all the while seeing the lecherous glances of the men and the critical looks of the women, but he remained composed, as his hands fell from his wrist showing off his bracelets and bright red fingernails, the polish perfectly applied. He even returned one or two of the men's glances, and they maintained their gaze, making a slight smile and nod. It was a totally foreign and freaky experience, repulsive in a sexual way, as he had no attraction to the male form, but erotic in a way because he seemed to be accepted by them as female. Weird.

There he was. The hostess stood beside his father's table. The back of his grey head was visible, and as usual he was dressed in a black suit.

"Mr. Steele? Your guest..."

Janice came around from behind and quickly sat down facing him.