Chapter 1 – The First Night Peter shivered miserably. His clothes were soaked through and
Chapter 1 – The First Night Peter shivered miserably. His clothes were soaked through and the wind was starting to pick up again. The only other protesters had left over an hour ago and still his ride home hadn’t turned up. It was only when a branch above his head reached a tipping point at the weight of water it held and broke fully depositing a full litre of fresh rain down the back of his shirt that he looked up again towards the manor house. Through the mist and heavy rain he just about made out the flashing on of a pair of high-beam headlights. He watched still as a muddy, dark-red Land Rover wound its way down the mansion’s driveway and paused in front of the ornate iron gates whilst the motors ground into life to open them. Pete stood frozen to the spot for a second before he remembered why he was there and half-heartedly picked up his placard. The small crowd had seen neither hide nor hair of his Lordship all day and this was the first chance he’d had to actually get his protest across. He therefore felt more than a little deflated when the driver leant over, opened the passenger side door and spoke to him, “You look like you could use a hot drink or a towel at least. How’d you fancy waiting inside?” Now in his early forties Lord Madison had a few flecks of grey peppered over his temples and a little more stubble than in any of the tabloid photographs but it was still unmistakably him. Peter’s mouth lolled open for a second and he was unsure what to do; torn between maintaining his protest in spite of the elements and the offer of any kind of shelter, he pouted. Seeing his discomfort Lord Madison smiled broadly and offered a hand to him, “Come on now, really, put politics aside for a moment; we can discuss the matter further back at the mansion and I’ll try to clarify what I was trying to say. Truce?” Peter looked at him, in his icy blue eyes for the first time, and gave up. *** The dark-stained oak doors to the mansion opened with a creak and Peter followed his Lordship inside. His rain-soaked converse trainers sloshed with water as they crossed the cold front hall and ascended up the imposing central staircase, with its luxuriously thick carpeting. Upon reaching the third floor Lord Madison led his shivering guest down a warren of corridors before pausing outside a richly appointed bathroom. “Now, why don’t you stop in here and have a good hot shower. I’ll take your wet stuff and find you some nice warm clothes, then you can meet me in the grand hall whilst yours are drying.” Peter shivered an agreement and entered the bathroom. He stripped off whilst his Lordship waited outside, pausing only for a second to look over his body in the full length mirror. Not that there was a great deal to look at: he was nineteen now and in his second year of college, but there was still barely a hair on his slender, pale body apart from a little blonde tuft above his cock that really only served to highlight how poorly endowed he was. Stepping into the shower he turned the jets on full blast and washed away the mud and grime in the hot streams of water that ran down his face. As he picked up an old-fashioned looking bottle of shower gel and sniffed at it he faintly heard the sound of the door opening and his clothes being collected. He could just make out the faint silhouette of his Lordship moving across the floor with something in his arms but he paid it no mind. The gel smelt a little acrid but it felt strangely cooling as he rubbed it over his body, lathering up along his long legs and smooth belly and rubbing the suds over and around his balls. Finally he rinsed it all away with the water so hot it felt like his skin was burning a little and the air of the tiled bathroom felt incredibly cold. Brushing the water from his eyes he looked around for the anticipated clothes but the only thing resting over the towel-rail was a short, light-pink dressing gown. “Ah, you’re finished.” His Lordship’s voice boomed through the door, “I’m afraid that was the only thing I could find that would fit you. I’m sure it’s not what you were expecting but it’s only for a little while. It belonged to a maid who recently left my service; one of the factors that provoked my little outburst in the chamber the other day.” Before Peter had a chance to complain he heard the sound of heavy footsteps leading away back down the corridor. After drying himself as best as he could Peter slipped the soft, terrycloth gown around his slim shoulders and turned back to face the mirror. His face dropped in shock, the thing was a disgrace: it barely came up to halfway up his thighs and he had to keep tightening the belt around his waist to keep it from slipping open. It was deeply humiliating but he couldn’t stay in the bathroom forever and there was little else that he could do. He stepped back out into the dark hallway. Following the sound of a crackling fire Peter walked along the thickly carpeted hallways, surrounded by the flickeringly lit faces of long-dead viscounts and barons until he reached the grand central hall. A glow from a fireplace shone around the doorframe and Peter stood for a second unsure on how to enter before he leaned against the heavy oak door and pushed it open to see his Lordship languidly reclining in a high-backed leather armchair, a glass of brandy resting in his hand and a rack by the hearth where his clothes stood gently steaming. “Ah! There you are! Come in, come in,” Lord Madison waved him inwards and motioned towards a second chair facing the fireplace and the large mirror that hung above it, “Let me get you a glass of something warming.” Peter felt incredibly exposed as he squeezed past his Lordship to reach the other chair. The heat from the fire flushed against the exposed skin of his upper thighs. This humiliation only increased as he sat down, feeling the dressing gown ride up and the touch of leather on his bare arse cheeks. It was whilst he was adjusting the pink robe that he realised he needed to constantly keep his knees pressed together so as to avoid revealing himself. “There you go.” Peter looked up to see Lord Madison pressing a large tumbler of what smelt like brandy into his hands. He thought for a second that he saw his eyes flashing downwards with a smirk and it was at this point that he finally felt like he had been pushed too far; he was done being belittled by this man simply because he wasn’t a member of the peerage, it was time to put his foot down. Peter looked about the room, anger boiling inside of him just beneath the surface, with its dark ornate oak panelling, antique wooden chests and full grand piano the entire scene was enormous, opulent and entirely wasted on this aristocratic layabout. Raising the glass tumbler to his lips he downed it in one. He scarcely registered the slightly-off, chalkish taste it had and putting it down to it being an older vintage than he’d ever tried before. Now he was ready. “You think you’re better than me? You think that all of this makes you better than any other human being?” Peter waved his arms about, “with even a quarter of what you’ve got stored away here entire villages could live on, all to perpetuate some kind of anachronistic bullshit about breeding and refinement!” He shifted about in the dressing gown again; his skin was starting to flush hotter than just from the fire and an itching was spreading from his ankles to his neck. His Lordship raised an eyebrow and smiled curiously, waving him on. “This entire ssysstem iss based on the antuqua, on the antiq, on the old idea of you being inherently ssuperior to mee.” Peter could suddenly hear his own voice and how slurred it was becoming, how heavy his tongue felt in his mouth. “What digni dignity iss thereee in tryin’ to to ” He tried to stand to make his final point but his legs fell from beneath him and he collapsed back into the chair. “futhhherr morrre” his closing argument was lost in a sloppy mess of sound as his eyes glassed over. His Lordship took another sip of his brandy and leant forward, “All done? Splendid, then I can begin.” He downed his own glass with a gulp and stood up. A new kind of smile spreading over his square jaw: malevolent and slightly cruel. “Now having never tried chloral hydrate myself I’m none too certain of how conscious you are right now but hopefully you’re still aware enough to be able to hear me.” Striding purposefully past Peter’s openly lolling mouth and beyond his field of vision his Lordship picked up one of the heavy wooden chests that lay along the far wall and carried it over with ease past the fireplace and dropping it with a thud at Peter’s feet. “I don’t owe you an explanation, why should I? Everything I’m about to do is fully justified in its own right, but, simply so as to prevent you from whining at me more than I can suffer over the next few weeks, I’ll fill you in a little.” His Lordship leant over and opened the dressing gown from top to bottom with a single finger and pulled it out from behind Peter, leaving him naked. With one hand Lord Madison dismissively brushed away the hair that was rapidly falling away from Peter’s body. “You see, my maid handed in her letter of resignation a month ago and it’s becoming oh so very hard to find good domestic help anymore, in spite of the labour shortage.” He slid along the arm of the chair and, moving his face closer to Peter’s, wafted away his little tuft of pubic hair and whispered in his ear. “So I decided to train one myself: you!” with that he gave Peter’s cock an excited little squeeze. “I’ve come to the conclusion that there would be no better manner than this in which to prove the correctness of the old social order: that some men are simply born to be dominant and other men are born to be, to be … well, to be whatever it is I decide to turn you into.” He said it with a smile, but it was cold and intimidating all the same. “Hence the little trick with the defoliating shower gel.” “Now, I know full well that your first thought is going to be one of escape, maybe even of running to the police, well let’s put that right out of your little mind shall we?” He reached into the chest and pulled out a tall, stiff, leather collar that was lined on the inside with a steel band and on the outside with rows of lacy bows that hid a small black box with a little blinking light. Reaching forward, his Lordship wrapped it around Peter’s neck and tightened it until it was as close as skin. Then there came a little click. “Fits like a glove,” He smiled. “Now, should you decide to try to venture beyond the bounds of the manor or its grounds this little box in front will provide you with 8,000 joules worth of electrical shock as a reminder of where your new place in life lies. Allow me to provide you with an illustrative demonstration.” Picking a small, silver service-bell from the chest his Lordship gave it a tinkle and an instant shock ran all through Peter’s body, though for the moment all he could do was twitch and give a little involuntary moan of pain. “Wireless technology! It really is quite the miracle invention and that was only a thousand joules to let you know that I need your attention. I need hardly tell you that you would not want to experience its full capacity should you try to remove your collar.” “So, let the transformation begin! I think I’ll work from the top down.” He ran a hand through Peter’s mid-length thick blonde hair, “Good, but not good enough on its own yet, but good enough to avoid a wig. A natural blonde too. I think we’ll put in some extensions.” And with that his Lordship went to work, picking a set of straighteners and some clumps of long blond hair from the chest and moving behind & around the still unmoving Peter, weaving them permanently into his hair. “Lovely, you’re looking cuter already, see how it’s already framing your face, speaking of which …” He bent down and picked up a make-up case, a cheapish looking one stocked with gaudy pinks and blues. “Now, in time you’ll have to learn how to do this yourself, but since you’re new to this kind of service I’ll walk you through it.” He talked him through the foundation, and blusher, through the eye shadow and dark mascara and finally through the nail polish and the bright red lipstick that he smeared on with a little too much vigour, “Oops, I’ve got a little too much on now, oh well we’ll see if I can’t find something to wipe it off with later,” he said with a grin. All the time this was going on Peter’s mind was raging inside. The taste of the drugged brandy was still filling his mouth and nostrils and although his thoughts were becoming clearer he could still not move his body an inch. He silently fumed and screamed internally with an impotent rage at the presumptuous arrogance of the man who was transforming him into god knows what, but as his Lordship continued his work he found his anger mixing with fear at how far it was being taken. Lord Madison now ran his hands down Peter’s finely feminised cheeks and onto his chest, groping at his skinny frame and then suddenly pinching and pulling hard on his nipples. “Not much here to work with,” he sighed, “but then I always find a challenge makes it all the more fun for me.” Another capped tube came out of the box, this one a darker green in colour with a heavy chemical smell as Lord Madison unscrewed the lid and quickly began working it over and around Peter’s chest in two circles. “This,” He said, “is an epoxy resin. Once set it’s then good and secure for about a month so you won’t need to worry about these,” he dove for the box once more and pulled out a pair of extremely lifelike breast-forms, round and bouncy, 36 C cups, “moving about too much.” His Lordship spent some time carefully positioning the fake silicon tits on his chest so that they lined up perfectly, matching the natural shape of his chest and tone of his skin. As the resin set Lord Madison kept his hands in place and looked Peter squarely in the eyes as he spoke. “These are, I assure, not my preference either. Merely a stopgap measure whilst I decide what size suits you best: you may go up but you’ll never go back down again, especially after I decide what’s best for you and you get some permanent implants in there.” At this he grinned malevolently and Peter’s eyes darted in every direction pleading with the world for some kind of exit or help. After ten minutes had passed with his Lordship’s weight pressing down on his chest he finally removed his hands and let the heavy breasts swing freely. The unusual weight felt strange on Peter’s skin and his body twitched involuntarily until they settled. For a second his Lordship stood back with hands on hips admiring his handiwork until his eyes fell further downwards. “Ah yes, which brings us onto this …” He ran a finger slowly up and down Peter’s penis, stroking gently and circling the head with his thumb. “Now don’t you worry little maid, you’re not going to have to go under the knife for this. I mean, it’s hardly worth it, is it? Not when it’s this small.” His Lordship’s laughter echoed around the large ballroom. “No, I think I’ll let you keep it, just as a reminder of who you once were and how far you’ve fallen.” “But that doesn’t mean we can have you going around with that little acorn bouncing around freely now does it?” Lord Madison picked up a strange looking metal contraption consisting of some interlocking hinged steel rings attached to a slim curved steel tube which ended in a heart shaped lattice where a small little bell jangled. “I do hope this is the right size, it looks a little spacious for that little nubbin of a thing.” Desperately, Peter tried to move his groin away from the ensnaring metal tubes but his body still felt numb and beyond him and he could barely twitch his thighs as Lord Madison locked first one testicle and then the other, tightening the metal rings around them then clipping the larger ring all around his cock and sliding the tube up to meet it and gave it a little shake, the bell on the end tinkling in response. At this final humiliation Peter managed to compose his strength and gave out a small gurgled moan in protest. “Shhh now, I want you to hear this.” Lord Madison looped a small titanium padlock across the top of the tube holding it place for a second. “Listen closely sissy, I want you to remember the sound of your manhood disappearing forever …”He squeezed the lock together and there came a small metallic Clink. “Beautiful, you’re starting to look like a real sissy slut now, the only thing holding you back is to get you into your new uniform, but first out with the old!” At that Lord Madison picked up the still steaming rags Peter had been wearing to protest in and one by one threw them into the roaring fireplace. “After all, I don’t want you getting it into that silly little head of yours that there’s any escape from this point onwards.” He paused as he picked up the pair of baggy combat trousers, sneering until he investigated the pockets, and pulled out Peter’s wallet. He flicked through the slim leather holder, pulling out its contents. “No drivers licence, no credit cards and barely any cash. Not much of a life you’ve got going on here is it . . you know I’ve just realised that I don’t even know your name! How frightfully rude of me!” He laughed deeply and pulled out a student ID card, “Peter Hayes? No, no, no. That simply won’t do, that won’t do at all.” He flicked the card backwards over his shoulder dismissively, not even turning to watch it melt. “No, I think you’ll need a new name for your new identity. Hmm, I think Francine will suit you much better.” With that he carelessly hurled the last of Peter’s clothes into the fireplace and lifted his chin with a finger, “Watch now as the last of your old life, the last of your manhood, goes up in smoke.” Lord Madison walked away behind him and left the room for a second, leaving Peter alone to stare at the reflection in the mirror. He barely recognised it as being a mirror at first it looked so different to himself: a stunningly beautiful, slim blonde with a heaving chest. In spite of himself, he felt his cock twitch inside its metal cage at the sight of this gorgeous female and he had to try and focus all his thoughts on who he really was. From the corridor outside there came a trundling sound and soon Lord Madison re-entered carting behind him a clothes rack that seemed to be about 50% frills and 50% latex and leather. Splayed out on a rack below were innumerable sets of lingerie: panties so lacy and flimsy they may as well be invisible, shiny satin bras and opaque little babydolls. “Meet your new wardrobe Francine!” He started with panties: sliding a thin, black pair of French cut panties slowly up Peter’s legs and letting the lacy fabric trace its way over his newly sensitive skin before pulling them snugly over Peter’s now straining belt and a little way up into his arse crack. Lord Madison went around him to put on the matching bra, his face sliding close to Peter’s as he clipped it shut. Putting the corset on took more work as Peter’s body was still as limp as a ragdoll, but eventually the process of tightening up could begin. The silky constraints pulling hard on Peter’s stomach, squeezing half the air out of him and pushing his new breasts out and upwards so they were close to spilling out. Next came the maids uniform. There were a dozen or more different uniforms hanging from the rack and his Lordship shuffled through them before settling on the one that he liked; a tight latex bust that clung to Peter’s skin above a hundred lace frills that still somehow managed to stop just above his knees with a little white apron on the front making the illusion complete. Then came more padlocks, this time clinking tightly onto ankle and wrist cuffs and a pair of five-inch-heeled thigh-high boots that were now impossible to remove. Finally Lord Madison unfurled a single length of ribbon and spent some time arranging the curls on top of Francine’s head before tying them off with a large, looping bow. His work complete his Lordship leant back against the mantelpiece and took in the sight of his creation, waiting for the drugs to wear off. It took maybe another quarter hour or more but slowly Peter felt the control come back to him. His skin tingled with renewed recognition. He twitched his face as much as he could to try and shake the feeling back into it, groaning and moaning his uncertain throat. When it finally looked like he was about to come around Lord Madison strode forward and locked his wrist and ankle cuffs to the side of the armchair. Peter moaned again and tried to move his arms and was amazed at the sudden ease of movement and new clarity of voice, the knockout drops had now finally worn off and he was able to speak. “You fucking sicko pervert! What are you trying to do to me?” Lord Madison slapped him with a hard open palm across his cheeks bringing a new look of shock to Peter’s face. “I would have hoped that even to a brainless sissy like you it would be clear what I’m going to do; I do hope I didn’t overdo the dosage and caused a little brain damage, after all breaking in a sissy’s brain is the most enjoyable part. Well, maybe second most enjoyable after breaking in another part of you.” With that Lord Madison stepped forward again, straddling the armchair that Peter was securely shackled to, moving his bulging crotch just inches from his face. Peter recoiled in shock and horror but no matter how he tried to turn his head there was no escaping the growth in Lord Madison’s trousers. Zzzzzzip. His Lordship undid the zipper slowly, pulling aside his jockey shorts and beginning to take out his cock. still only semi-erect and already 7 inches in length the girth alone was enough to intimidate Peter into silence for a second. “It’s ok, take a good look at it Francine. I’m sure you’ve not seen a real cock since showering in gym. After all,” He reached down through the lace and silk and jingled the bell on the end of Peter’s chastity belt, “this hardly counts as a cock now does it?” Peter sniffled a little and looked up at Lord Madison, “Stop it! Stop calling me a sissy! You rich asshole, why are you d-d-doing this? W-w-what do you want from me? I don-” Peter’s tirade was cut short as Lord Madison push his head back with one hand and forced his now hard cock deep into Peter’s mouth. Suddenly for Peter his entire perspective had changed; his entire sensory experience was now filled with cock: the taste from the pre-cum that already coated his tongue, the feeling of its hard throbbing length sliding in and out of his mouth making him gag, and the sight of his Lordship his face sternly looking down on him. “You’re going to learn to serve society, you’re going to learn how to serve this household, and most importantly you’re going to learn how to serve me. From this point on Francine you are now my property, you may not like this to begin with – and quite frankly I don’t give a damn if you come to like it at all – but this is your life from now on.” He put a hand on the back of Peter’s head, wrapping his fingers through his new thick blonde locks, and started forcing his head further down. “This is all in your best interest though. Your sissy side is part of your true nature. Any real man would have fought back by now; but you’re not a man, you’re not a woman, you’re a simpering little sissy bitch. You’re a cock-worshiping maid whore and it’s time you were treated like one.” With that, Lord Madison grunted and quickly pulled out just in time to shoot load after load of thick, hot cum across Peter’s face, coating it completely and making sure to land one into Peter’s still gaping mouth. “Not bad for a first time sissy,” He panted, “you still need a lot of work keeping your teeth out of the way though, but I have just the thing.” He darted back to the chest and picked something up. As he turned back Peter was just beginning to regain his senses once more and stretching his aching jaw to protest when Lord Madison stuffed it shut with a thick rubber gag that, as Peter realised when he explored it with his tongue, was almost perfectly matched in size and shape with his Lordship’s hard cock. After tightening the buckles on the gag, and ignoring the muffled screams of his new maid, Lord Madison rested on the arm of the chair and whispered in Peter’s ear. “I think we’ll leave it at that for tonight Francine. It’s getting on for midnight so get a good night’s sleep now; you’ve got a long, hard days training in the morning.” Peter could barely move his head to watch him leave, only able to listen to his receding footsteps and stare at the reflection in front of him of a newly minted porn-star fantasy maid, cum dripping down her face onto her heaving chest with only the slight glint of light coming from the chastity device left to connect him to his old life. He tested his bonds, he struggled and screamed into the gag, but escape, for now, was impossible. -- source link
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