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Subject: New Story:  Attacked by Silk Gloves -  2/5  (tg, magic, nc, 
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New Story:  Attacked by Silk Gloves -  2/5  (tg, magic, nc, creative)

My second story, I hope you like it.

Normal Disclaimer Information:

Do not read any further if:

1.  You are under the age of 18, or
2.  You are offended by explicit sexual and/or erotic writing, or
3.  You are offended by humiliating sexual situations

This story describes creative situations where a man is magically
transformed into a woman, against his will.

If this sort of story is likely to offend you, then do not continue.

If you have any comments on this story, good or bad, then please tell
me so via E-mail! It will encourage me to write more.

Thank you,

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Paul did not sleep soundly. His dreams were invaded by images of 
disembodied, self-animated gloves caressing his body, of Rosemary 
humiliating him as he tried to explain why the gloves were stained 
with cum, of him naked in front of her, as she verbally abused his 
massively rock-hard cock.

Then, his dreams turned weird. He dreamt he had become a glove, able 
to move like an inchworm, able to grasp onto an unsuspecting hand and 
swallow it down his throat. The scene changed and he was a pair of 
panties, being put on by the daughter and somehow his arms and legs 
made loops for the leg holes and his face was the strip of fabric at 
the crotch. She started walking across the room and the panties rode 
up her ass crack, his face was rubbed across her anus. Then the 
daughter changed into a man and his face mashed into musky male pubic 
hairs. Then the man changed into Rosemary and her shriveled buttocks.

"Unh!" Paul moaned and shook the images from his mind. That last, 
intimate picture of Rosemary nearly turned his stomach. It was one of 
those images that your mind can not resist, precisely because it is 
so disgusting and weird, while the rest of your body revolts.

Paul shook the image from his head, turned over and put his feet on 
the floor, and reached over to turn on the lamp on the nightstand.

The gloves! He had forgotten about the gloves, or had thought they 
might have drifted away like the other images from his dream, but he 
felt them as he turned the light on, and there they were: white silk 
gloves covering his hands up past the elbows. He sighed and held them 
before his eyes, wondering what to do. Would Rosemary go ballistic 
when she saw them on him? He expected that Rosemary was responsible 
for them in the first place, and he knew that he would be wearing 
them forever unless he got her help to take them off. Perhaps it was 
her plan to get him to ask for her help, or to make him feel more 
humble, or something.

He took a closer look at the hem of the glove. It was not so 
restrictive that it cut off his blood, just a nice firm fit. However, 
the hem had absolutely no give at all. He could not force more than 
the tip of a finger underneath it. It was like a steel band around 
his upper arm, allowing no hope for escape. Further, he couldn't slip 
the glove down his hand. First, his elbow prevented it from going 
very far, and second any amount he pushed was lost as the glove 
wriggled back up his arm.

Of course, he could always just cut the gloves from his hand. But he 
was sure that the glove would defend itself (and god only knows what 
that would mean!) and besides, the gloves were beautiful, and he 
didn't want to destroy something magical, which was, for the moment, 
totally mysterious and unfathomable. This was exactly what he had 
been so desperately searching for these past 6 years.

Paul looked at his watch. It was 1:30 AM. He let out another sigh, 
there were still another 6 hours left before morning. He looked 
around the room.

"That's strange," he said, out loud. Paul spied a bra lying on the 
bed, off to the side. "Was that there before?" He reached over and 
picked it up.

The bra was perfectly ordinary. It was white, with springy elastic 
straps that crossed in front.  The cups were simple nylon fabric with 
a stiff underwire. He tossed the bra back where he had picked it up.

"Now hold on." This time, there was a body cincher on the bed, next 
to where he tossed the bra. "I swear, that wasn't there before." He 
wondered if it had been obscured by shadows, or by the folds in the 
fabric of the bed.

Paul picked up the cincher and looked at it. It was simply a wide 
strip of fabric, about a foot wide and two feet long, which went 
about the waist and cinched the waist in a few inches. There were 
eight hooks on one end, and three rows of eight eyes on the other, 
for three possible tightness adjustments, each adjustment about an 
inch tighter. It was lightly boned with plastic stays. There were 
tabs hanging down from the bottom, obviously intended for holding up 

Paul had never seen a cincher before, and he was intensely curious 
about this new feminine undergarment. He sucked in his belly and held 
up the cincher, wondering how it would work. The fabric was pretty 
stiff. The tabs dangled down his legs.

Over the next few minutes, Paul would realize how stupid he had been, 
not recognizing the danger he had encouraged, and he would kick 
himself for having stayed in the bedroom at all. He honestly thought 
that the glove trick was all that there was, and didn't realize, 
until too late, that other pieces of clothing might be similarly 

He discovered how just wrong he was in the next instant, when the 
ends of the cincher whipped out of his hands (easily done because the 
silk gloves had no grip), and whipped around his body with a *snap* 
as the first hook caught the first eye. "HUP!" he gasped, as his 
breath was caught short by the sneak attack.

Paul frantically reached behind his back with both hands, trying to 
grip the ends of the cincher to undo the hooks. *snap*, *snap*, 
*snap*!  Three more hooks coupled with three more eyes. Damn! *snap*, 
*snap*, His gloved fingers just couldn't get a grip! *snap*!  Nor did 
it seem like he could budge the cincher at all. *snap*! He pushed and 
twisted, but even just the first hook resolutely refused to be 
disengaged from the eye.

Paul let go and tried to twist around to see if he could see what was 
going on. *Snap*! The first hook had moved to the next tighter row of 
eyes. He felt his waist further pulled in and confined. *Snap*, 
*snap*! Two more cinched in.

"Aaahhck!" Paul felt his breath grow short, frantic now that he was 
being cut in half. He looked down at his waist and saw that it had 
visibly shrunk, much more than he had thought possible. *Snap*, 
*snap*, *snap*! Three more hooks cinched in another inch.

Paul then felt something brush over his hand. As he looked down, he 
realized that the bra had also come to life, and that his right hand 
had been encircled with a bra strap.

"Oh no you don't!" he nearly shouted, and pulled at the bra with his 
left hand, pulling it completely off. But this time, the left hand 
became encircled with the left strap of the bra.

"Damn!"  He waved his hands frantically through the air, the bra 
wildly whipping around him. *Snap*! The final hook on the cincher had 
made it to the second row of eyes.

Paul soon was hopelessly tangled up in the brassier, both hands 
encircled and tangled with bra straps. 

*Snap*!  The first hook now moved to the next row of eyes, cinching 
his waist in yet another inch. His waist compressed further, now 
becoming amazingly small. He suddenly thought that this was more than 
just mere physics, his waist seemed to be shrinking!

*Snap*, *snap*!  Two more hooks each tightened up by an inch to the 
next row of eyes. The constriction was horrible, as his breath came 
out only in short gasps. He went back to the brassier, and what he 
saw made his heart sink. The gloves were against him! While his 
attention had been diverted to the cincher, the gloves had untangled 
the bra straps, and the bra had actually slipped up his left arm, 
past the elbow!

"Nooooo!" He reached with his right hand, trying to pull the straps 
back down his arm. As he did, the right bra strap slipped up his 
right arm, up to the elbow.

*Snap*! Another hook pulled the cincher still tighter around his 
waist. Each snap was taking longer now, as the cincher struggled to 
pull each one in to the last and tightest position. The pressure was 
nearly unbearable.

And his gloved hands refused to obey his mental instructions! He 
reached for the bra straps, trying to grasp them and pull them back 
down his arms, but the fingers refused to grasp! All he could do was 
paw at the straps, and they easily worked their way up his arms, 
until the straps were nearly over his shoulders.

*Snap*! Another hook tightened. His waist was being inevitably shrunk 
to a diameter of about 26 inches, where his normal girth was about 32 
inches. *Snap*!  Only two more to go.

The gloves and the bra completely thwarted his attempts to undo the 
bra, and the straps now slipped up over his shoulders. The ends of 
the bra slithered around his back, snugly embracing his torso, and 
the first hook and eye engaged with a *snap*.

*Snap*, the cincher pulled in further. *Snap* the second hook on the 
bra pulled the bra firmly into place, solidly encasing his chest in 
it's silky grip. Paul could just barely breathe, and couldn't bend 
over at all.

*Snap*, the last hook on the cincher was firmly set in its final 
position. *Snap*, *Snap*, the hooks on the bra snapped in another 
position, tightening the bra. And then finally, *Snap, *SNAP*! The 
bra pulled tighter into its final position, sealing his fate.

Paul beat the bed in frustration, gasping, and now in tears. He had 
been fully defeated by simple articles of woman's underwear, which 
had magically and easily circumvented all of his defenses and had 
trapped his body in a virtual silk prison!

As the tears streamed down his face wetting the bra, he looked down 
and saw something he absolutely couldn't believe: his breasts were 

It was unmistakable, his breasts were expanding to fill the bra. What 
had been empty, loose fabric cups, were now slowly filling out. He 
reached up with his hands, in a ridiculous attempt to push the 
growing bosoms back. His new tits grew steadily within his hands, 
causing his fingers to part, and his hands to be pushed out.

Pretty soon they were at about an A cup, then B, then C, and then 
they stopped somewhere between C and D. Complete and full breasts, 
which the bra was just barely able to contain, bosoms which spilled 
out over the top of their silk confinement.

Paul looked at horror at his body as the final goal of these events 
came to him: he was being transformed. As each piece of clothing 
attached itself to him, that part of his body had been transformed 
into something smaller, more delicate, more feminine. He didn't 
notice it with his hands and waist, because they could have been 
simply due to the compression of the tight fabrics. But his breasts 
provided conclusive evidence.

"I'm outa here!" Paul announced, realizing now that there was not a 
moment to loose if he was to keep what was left of his body intact. 
He hopped to the floor, grabbed his watch, and headed for the door...

... but stumbled and fell down hard on his face and arms. "Shit, 
shit, shit!"  Something had tripped him! He pistoned his legs trying 
to get them back under him. He looked down at his legs and saw what 
had gone wrong: a stocking had wound itself around his ankles, and a 
second was  now clasped onto his right foot, working its way over his 

"Oh fuck...Ohhhh fuck" Paul could see now where this was headed. He 
reached down and tried to untangle the stocking. He got a foot free, 
got to his knees, and lurched for the door.... And fell down hard, 
again. Now both feet were covered with stockings, one had just 
wriggled over his knee, and the other was just over his ankle.

The struggle didn't last much longer. Paul tried to take off the 
stockings, but the arms and ands of his gloves wouldn't obey his 
commands. Every time he tried to get up to leave, stockings or no 
stockings, his own two feet would trip him up, as if his feet were 
being pulled out from underneath him.

After just a minute or so, the battle was lost. Even the stocking 
tabs on the cincher had strained down and attached themselves firmly 
to the stocking tops. Paul lay on his stomach, face to the floor, 
fingers clawing the carpet, sobbing. He looked down at his legs and a 
fresh torrent of tears flowed through a gasping "Why me?" His legs 
had been transformed too. They were now thinner and more beautiful, 
with much smaller feet and pointed toes. And there was not even a run 
in the stockings.

He made one last attempt for the door, crawling on hands and knees, 
but the gloves and stockings worked together to thwart any further 
progress, he struggled against them, but the magic was too strong, he 
could only just hold still for a few minutes, before his hands and 
arms pushed him back. He sat back against the bed, shaking from the 
effort, breathing in gasps, feeling resigned and depressed.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

After his breathing had settled down, Paul took stock of the 

First, his hands and arms were covered in shiny smooth silk gloves, 
over the elbow. The gloves would give him control of his fingers and 
hands only when he relaxed and didn't fight the magic. His hands were 
smaller than normal, with proportionally longer fingers. Paul rubbed 
the fingers together, feeling the silk, and, almost against his will, 
the fingers rose to stroke his cheek as they had already done many 
times that night.

Second, a size C bra covered his chest, made of shiny white nylon. It 
cupped and hugged his new breasts, which were just a bit too large 
for the bra. He saw his new nipples for the first time, they had 
grown significantly, and were about the same size around as his 
little finger. A silk finger traced down a breast and experimentally 
brushed his nipple.

"Oh!" he sucked in his breath sharply. He had not been prepared for 
the intensity of the electric thrill that caused his nipples to 
tingle. Paul swallowed hard as both hands tweaked both nipples and 
then the fingers traced light circles around the ample curves of his 
bosom. He then cupped both tits with his hands, and hefted them. At 
any other time, Paul would have said that they were perfect.

With an effort, he continued his exploration with the third item, his 
waist, which was now enclosed in the grip of the tight waist cincher. 
He traced his hands around his waist, feeling a light tickle across 
his sides and stomach. Paul still couldn't believe how narrow his 
waist had become. Although his breathing was definitely impaired, the 
cincher was not crushing. The magic had definitely given him a nice 
hourglass figure.

Fourth, the stockings. Again, they were simple nylon stockings, and 
his legs had become decidedly more slender and curved than before. He 
ran his fingers up and down their length, feeling how much more 
sensitive his skin had become. He saw his toes, now seemingly more 
dainty, as they fanned out the stocking fabric.

Paul leaned back against the bed and closed his eyes, trying to put 
it all together and decide what to do next. One of the gloves, on its 
own, snaked down to his penis, which was already hard, and started 
lightly stroking it. A second cupped and played with his bosoms, and 
lightly stroked and pinched his new nipples.

"Oh," Paul moaned. "It's not as if I've been hurt, really. Just 
transformed. Oh god..." the glove had pinched harder on his nipple, 
twisting it slightly. "I'm sure the magic can be undone, I am still 
me, after all. Uhhhh..." the other glove had reached down and was 
lightly tracing up and down the inside of his sensitive thighs. "And 
every attempt to fight it has been easily defeated, and I'm exhausted 
and tired, and trapped. And Jesus! This feels good." A hand went down 
to rub his balls lightly with silk fingers.

Paul relaxed back and closed his eyes as the gloves did their work. 
He could see no way out of his situation, so he had given up. The 
sensations were wildly tingling and he felt himself building quickly 
to his second orgasm that night. It didn't take long, the strange new 
sensations had shifted his brain into some kind of thrilling new 
rapture. He was just reaching the peak...

But then it stopped. He reached with his hands, but the gloves 
resisted. Paul jerked up, wondering what had happened, and saw a pair 
of nylon panties over his ankles, slithering up his legs.

"NO!" Paul realized he had not given up after all. He knew what would 
happen now, and realized that he couldn't let the panties reach their 
goal. He fumbled down, fighting the gloves, and caught hold of the 
briefs with a fist. The lady's briefs slipped away and crawled up 
over his knees.

No amount of clenching his thighs, or pawing at them with useless 
fingers seemed to make any difference. The undergarments settled 
snugly over his hips, cupping his buttocks, settling around his 
constricted waist, and clasping around his penis, which, amazingly, 
was still rock hard. Paul reached down, frantically, covering his 
penis, trying to protect it, but it was too late...

His penis, still hard, began to shrink away underneath his fingers. 
"Stop! Nooooooo!!!" He pleaded, as he felt it shrink and disappear.

The transformation under the panties took just another second, as his 
buttocks tightened, his hips widened slightly, and the folds at his 
crotch deepened into the puffy lips of a full-fledged vagina.

Paul now had his own pussy, which made him now undeniably female. 
"But, I'm still me!" he said feebly, wondering if it was really true. 
He ran his hands over the swell of his hips, over his cute ass, and 
finally between his legs.

His penis was gone. In its place was a vagina, with lips that opened 
up and thrilled to his touch. It was definitely affected by his 
recent sexual excitement, for the lips were slightly lubricated and 
very warm.

Paul refused to continue feeling his crotch. "Damn it!" He stated, "I 
am still a man! This is just magic and I remain who I am!"

He rolled on to his knees and stood up - holding on to one of the bed 
posts for balance. What he saw on the bed caused his heart to sink: a 
long-sleeved negligee.

It was a beautiful garment. Fully silk, long sleeves, slim, an open 
neck, and with lace and embroidery around the edges.

This time he didn't struggle. The gown snaked up his body, covered 
his head and arms in its silk confinement, and then slipped over his 
body, like a sheath. The gloves poked through the armholes and each 
button at the back pushed into its buttonhole, tightening the 
negligee about his body, smoothing his final bulges into one sleek 
figure. He was now fully captured in its clasping silk embrace, as it 
clung closely to his body.

He couldn't deny that the feeling of the gown was intensely 
pleasurable, and wondered if that was part of the magic. Paul took a 
few steps around the bed and felt the silk slip smoothly around his 
legs and arms and over his shoulders.

Paul stepped on something and looked down. It was a pair of bedroom 
slippers made of pink taffeta fabric. They had small, flat heels with 
an open back. His toes curled for a second, and then his feet just 
automatically stepped into them.

"Now what?" he wondered. Paul looked around the room, held his arms 
out and then looked down at the dressing gown. His new bedroom 
slippers poked out from underneath the long nightgown. It was late, 
and he was tired. He sighed, and realized that there was no more 
energy left with which he could fight the magic anymore.

Paul looked up and spied the dressing table. Without any conscious 
thought, he found his feet guiding him to the dressing table, where 
he sat down and turned on the lamp next to the mirror.

Paul looked into the mirror. "It is still me," he remarked, out loud. 
His face had not changed, but his it was on top of a body which was 
obviously not his. As Paul stared into the mirror at this new bust, 
shoulders, and waist, he became overwhelmed and tears began to roll 
down his cheeks, slowly at first, and then more as he sobbed and 
covered his face with his gloved hands. "Damn!" he pounded the table. 
He was upset that he had been trapped like this. "Why didn't I leave? 
What will I do?" He knew that his only chance now was to depend on 
Rosemary to reverse the magic. He had no other choice.

Eventually, the crying subsided, and he looked around for a tissue, 
but none seemed to be handy. Instead, there was a handkerchief, with 
some lace around the edges. Paul dried his eyes and blew his nose and 
generally cleaned up.

As he finished wiping his face with the handkerchief, he looked into 
the mirror and saw someone else's face staring back. The face of a 
beautiful young woman.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Oh Janice!" Rosemary was by the side of the bed, a hand over her 

Paul rolled over to face Rosemary. He had spent the few remaining 
hours of the night asleep in bed, under the covers. Before falling 
into a deep, weary sleep, he did take the time to explore his body, 
including the curves of his new breasts, the sensitive nipples which, 
when lightly tweaked, sent uncontrolled jolts through his body, his 
smooth arms, the amazingly thin waist, sensitive thighs, and finally 
(of course) his new vagina. The exploration had ended in a warm 
orgasm, which coursed through his body, causing it to vibrate with a 
delighted hum. Somehow, he felt a bit more feminine and the body felt 
a bit less foreign after the experience. After that, he slept 

"Oh Janice!" Rosemary repeated, putting a hand on Paul's shoulder, 
"is it really you?" Her voice had reached a shrill pitch, she was a 
bit on edge.

"No, I'm Paul. Please... I'm still Paul! Out! ...Clothes, off, I need 
to take these clothes off! Why? Please! Reversed magic... What am I 
going to tell my parents?" Paul sputtered, not coherent after just 
having woken up. He looked up at Rosemary.

"Oh!" She burst out, dissolving into tears, "Janice!" Rosemary 
staggered back to the dressing table chair. She pulled her dress up 
and used it to wipe away her tears, between gasping sobs she 
continued. "It's been so long." She looked up at Paul again. Paul 
waited until she settled down.

"Rosemary," Paul continued, more gently this time, "I am still Paul. 
I must be changed back."

"No!" her swift fierceness surprised him. Her cragged features became 
sharp and penetrating. "I've worked 25 years for this moment, and now 
it's begun. You are my daughter, Janice, and you're going to stay 
that way."

"No, I'm not! I'm Paul! It's still me inside!"

"Hah. Look at you. You are the exact image of my darling, and you 
already hold her spirit within you. Soon, you will fade, and Janice 
will take over."

"Nooooo..." Paul whimpered, collapsing in shock. How could he fight 

"Yes. The more you become accustomed to your new image, the more you 
become accustomed to your new body and feelings, the more your mind 
will weaken to her soul. It's only a matter of time before I have my 
daughter completely back."

Paul looked in shock at Rosemary. He barely recognized the words 
which came from her mouth. She had shed her image as a worn-out old 
hag as easily as an actor shedding a cloak. In it's place was someone 
confident, someone with a purpose, someone intelligent, someone to be 

Paul looked at her straight back. "I won't do it. I won't submit."

"Oh but you will. One or two days at the most, every time you sleep, 
every time you feel the clothes on your skin, every time you have an 
orgasm, every time you do something feminine, these are the times 
when your male ego will slip a little, giving my Janice a foothold."

Paul cringed, remembering his climax from the night before, and how 
he had felt afterwards. It was already happening! "Stop!" he cried, 
hiding his face in the covers.

Rosemary walked over to the bed and spoke louder, through the covers. 
"Give it up! You can't resist. Let her in!"

"No! No! NO!"

She smiled. "Well, it's going to happen anyway. I'm going down for 
breakfast. When the bed is done with you, why don't you join me? The 
dishes are clean." Rosemary slammed the door as she left.

[End of Part 2]

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