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Subject: New Story:  Attacked by Silk Gloves -  3/5  (tg, magic, nc, 
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New Story:  Attacked by Silk Gloves -  3/5  (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 pulled his head from under the covers and flopped back in bed, 
frustrated. "Damn her!" His voice betrayed his panic. "Fuck this, I'm 

Just as he was turning to get out of bed, Paul felt something in the 
bed move. "What?" He froze and looked down. The bed was covered with 
a light, white knit blanket and sheets. He looked down again. 
Something had definitely moved. He sat up gradually, and began to 
push himself out of bed.

But something soft clamped around his ankles. "What?" Paul reached 
down, frantically, to try and push away his attacker. But there was 
nothing there! "What's going on?" An invisible aggressor pulled his 
leg hard towards the bottom of the bed, and he fell backwards into 
the bed, flat on his back.

And then he watched as the covers themselves tightened around his 
ankles and legs, as if they were attracted to him by static cling. 
"What?" He sat up a second time and reached down to pull them away, 
but they tightened further, outlining his legs clearly underneath. 
His nightgown had ridden up during the night, so his legs, in the 
stockings, were exposed. The covers tighten around them, squeezing 
his calves and thighs, and then gradually forced his legs apart.

"Stop!" He reached down to pull the covers off, but they had now 
grasped tightly around his torso, all the way around his waist. They 
pressed in, and then started to wriggle their way under his bottom, 
tucking in around his body.

"NO. Stop. Damn!"  Paul reached under the covers to lift them off, 
but just as he had his hands underneath and started to push up, the 
top half of the sheets slithered up his body, over his arms, elbows, 
and shoulders, and clasped around his neck. "Aaahhhh..." he moaned, 
as they clung tightly around his chest, squeezing the breath out of 

As the sheets squeezed around his narrow middle and pressed down on 
his chest, Paul was forced to lie down on his back. The sheets flowed 
around him like water, filling every nook and cranny, flowing between 
his legs, all the way around each arm, underneath him, and all around 
and up his neck, over his face, in his ears. He could still breathe 
through the fabric, but he felt entombed in the cotton body bag. Paul 
looked like he was caught in a tank of running water, with sheets and 
covers rippling all over his body.

As they flowed around each arm, his arms were gradually pried away 
from his body, and his legs were pried further apart. Sheets surged 
around his breasts, encircling them, massaging them, and then 
grasping them  "Oh!" he gasped, as his body began to respond to the 
rough manipulation. Once each breast was firmly clamped in its own 
fabric vise, the top of the sheet formed two folds, which then 
pinched together, with his new, larger nipples caught between.

"Oh jeez!" Paul clenched his eyes, tensed and bucked his body, and 
struggled to try and escape the intimate grasp. His new breasts were 
fantastically sensitive, and he felt his sex respond against his 
will. His "Stop! Please..." came out as a whimper. The bed covers 
grasped firmly around his body and just rode along with his struggles 
and rocking, the merciless pinching and massaging of his breasts 
continued, inescapable.

But the worst was still to come. Sheets around his legs flowed up 
under his nightgown and wormed their way into his panties.  He felt 
sheets flowing against his pubic hair, down between his cheeks. Then, 
with a downward ripple, the sheets actually pushed the underwear 
right off, down around his thighs. Now with completely open access, 
the fabric flowed easily between his legs, over and around each 
buttock, and over his new female sex.

"Gaaahhhh..." he gasped, the sensation taking his breath away. The 
covers clung to his sex and rippled over it. Combined with the 
pinching and manipulation of his nipples, it was overwhelming. "Can't 
cum...." Paul gritted his teeth, trying not to climax, realizing that 
his consciousness would slip away with each and every orgasm.

Then the covers formed two folds at his crotch, and then started to 
gently pinch his clitoris. "DAMN!" He shouted as his whole body 
clenched and the first orgasm flowed over him. "God," he was so 
sensitive, so responsive. "My sensations must be more intense because 
of the magic", he thought in terror, realizing that his body was 
going to respond and control his mind, rather than the other way 

Worse, the body was female, which meant that one orgasm wasn't 
enough. The sheets became more aggressive underneath his bottom, 
flowing into his ass crack, pulling his cheeks apart, and then, with 
a hard point, they actually penetrated his anus.

Once started, Paul was powerless to resist the waterfall of 
sensations. He climaxed a second time, easily, then a third as the 
manipulations all over his body continued and increased. Then a 
fourth, as the sheets worked their way into his pussy, thrusting in 
and out.

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

Paul had faded out again. He gradually came back to consciousness, 
fighting a dense fog of confusion. It took him longer to focus now, 
and his body was starting to feel more natural. After a second, he 
decided he should get out of bed while he could.

As soon as he slid out of bed, Paul roughly fell to his hands and 
knees, his head spinning. He stopped for a full 5 minutes on the 
floor, trying to pull things into focus. Finally, he got up, 
staggered a bit, propped himself up against the wall, and then slowly 
opened the door.

As he walked out of the room and down the stairs, his sensations were 
again assaulted by the clothing he wore as it rubbed against his new 
feminine body. The corset compressed his waist, the panties (which he 
had pulled up again) hugged his crotch and buns, the stockings clung 
to his legs, and the long nightgown slid smoothly over his whole 
body. And, of course, there were always the gloves, which tightly 
encased both arms and each finger. Each step made him realize all 
over again how very female this new body was.

At the bottom of the stairs he saw the front door, and headed 
straight for it. It was locked, with a dead bolt that could only be 
opened with a key. "Damn," he muttered. He started searching for a 
key, over the doorjamb, amongst the knickknacks. There were no keys, 
anywhere! Finally, he headed towards the window.

"Finally up, I see?" Rosemary appeared behind him.

"I'm leaving. Let me go."  Paul pushed aside the curtains.

"Sorry, but you're my daughter now." She stepped forward and reached 
out with her finger. Controlled by an unseen force, Paul's elbow was 
pulled back to meet the finger. She pulled her finger back 
effortlessly, his elbow with it, and Paul with the elbow. 

"Wait! You can't do this to me..." Paul cried as he was helplessly 
towed back to the kitchen.

"Sure looks like I'm doing it. Now there." She put his elbow down, 
welding the elbow to the tabletop. Unable to escape, Paul sat down 
heavily in the chair.

"Have some breakfast." She clunked down a bowl, and filled it with 
cereal and milk. Paul reluctantly began to eat.

Rosemary sat down and watched him eat. "Did you like the bed?" Paul's 
face flushed beet red as he remembered the intimate experience. She 
chuckled at his reaction. "I thought you'd like it. And think, you'll 
get to sleep in the very same bed all night tonight!"

"No!  Please don't do this to me, it's not fair." Paul pleaded. But 
his body betrayed him and he felt the spark of sexual stimulation, 
against his will.

"It's either you or my daughter Janice, and since I now have the body 
back, I want the rest of her too. The way I see it, it wasn't fair 
the way she was taken away from me."

"But that's your problem, I have nothing to do with that!"

"You do now." She paused. "Are you done yet?"

Paul sighed, and finished his breakfast.

"Well," Rosemary continued, brightly, "since you're done, I think its 
time you had a bath."

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

As the bathroom door closed and locked behind him, Paul felt all of 
the female clothing loosen, just slightly. It was a sagging feeling, 
as if the elastic had given out. He was now able to take off his 

Rosemary had dragged him to the upstairs bathroom, the one that 
Janice had used 25-odd years ago. The old towels were still there. 
Rosemary supplied new soap, and gave Paul a bag of clean clothes. She 
then locked him in the bathroom, and told him he would stay locked in 
the bathroom until he was clean and dressed.

Regardless, Paul felt grateful for the sanctuary of the bathroom. 
Even though the door was locked and he was trapped inside, it felt as 
if he could hide for a while, collect his thoughts, and perhaps plan 
an escape.

But first, he had to get out of the clothes which first trapped him. 
As Paul peeled each item of clothing from his body, he marveled at 
his new body. The waist was now amazingly thin (had she really been 
this slender? He wondered), the legs were long and smooth, and his 
new bosoms were large and heavy. The only way he could stand 
comfortably was up straight and with his shoulders back a bit. This 
caused the breasts to jut prominently from his chest. "I should be 
proud," he thought, "they are perfect." Paul reached up to cup and 
stroke them a second, but then stopped and cursed when he realized 
what he was doing.

When Paul turned to the mirror, he saw Janice's frightened face 
staring back at him. The only thing that remained of the old Paul was 
his hair, which was unchanged. Apparently that's where the magic 
stopped short. But since his hair was already shaggy, he ended up 
looking like a female business executive on a really bad hair day.

Paul sat down on the toilet, depressed. "What am I going to do?" he 
wondered. It looked hopeless. Of course, he had to escape, but how? 
He was trapped in this incredibly feminine body, and every time he 
blacked out from an orgasm, it was getting more and more difficult to 
come out of it.

"I've gotta escape, that's my only hope." As he kept repeating this, 
he went over all of the possibilities. Was the back door unlocked? 
Could he jump off the roof? He looked up and saw that the bathroom 
window was too small to fit through.

After a minute, he realized he had to urinate, and so he did. The 
stream came out from a strange place deep inside. He looked down and 
watched it flow from his new vagina. The relief of pressure was 
palpable, and lifted his mood somewhat.

"OK," he muttered, "I'll just have to find a way out. But first, I 
have to leave this room, which means having a shower and getting 
dressed. I'll endure that, and then escape as quickly as possible."

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

Paul held a bar of soap in one hand and the detachable showerhead in 
the other. He was now completely clean, except for one vital spot.

The shower had been easy. Yes, his new body had responded somewhat to 
his touch, for it was more sensitive than his male body used to be. 
But he finished quickly before the stimulation could become too much 
to handle.

Paul looked down at his pussy, leaning over slightly to look over his 
new breasts. "OK, Let's get on with it." He quickly rubbed the soap 
over the curly hairs of his pussy, nearly losing strength in his 
knees as the soap rubbed directly over his clitoris. Then, he reached 
back to soap up his puckered anus, as he moved the shower spray to 
his crotch to wash the soap away.

Just then, however, the soap slipped from his hand. "Damn." Paul 
reached down to find it, but then the shower nozzle also slipped from 
his hand.

"Shit!"  He crouched down, legs apart, and felt the floor for the 
soap, but as his cheeks parted, the soap leapt up, and started 
pushing into the opening of his ass, actually trying to drill past 
his sphincter.

"Eeeep!"  Paul squealed and shot up. Just then, the detachable show 
head moved up to his pussy, and with a hard, oscillating flow, the 
stream beat directly against his clit.

"Oooohhhh...." now his legs gave out completely, and Paul sank to his 
hands and knees, water splashing directly into his pussy, over his 
pussy lips, filling his vagina. The slippery soap was now slowly 
squirming past his sphincter, gradually working deeper into his anus. 
"Must... get out..." he gasped, as an orgasm rocked through his body, 
causing him to shiver and his nipples to jut out hard in the cool 

The shower nozzle pushed in closer, beating his clit rapidly back and 
forth. Paul weakly pushed at the nozzle with his hands, but it easily 
circumvented his defenses. His hips rocked back and forth, wildly, as 
each bathroom objects attacked their respective hole, causing Paul to 
grunt and moan under the twin assaults. 

Just then, the wash cloth, which had been lying on the floor where he 
had dropped it, jumped up and covered his left breast, kneading his 
tit flesh and rubbing the hard nipple with wet terry cloth. A second 
orgasm coursed through him, and he felt his mind begin to fade out, 
as he leant against the side of the shower. A third orgasm was 

But then, the hot water ran out. As it ran icy cold, the fog in his 
brain cleared, and Paul somehow found the energy to get to his knees, 
and lurch towards the door. He burst out of the shower stall and 
landed with a wet splat on the tiled floor. The shower nozzle 
strained after him at the end of its tether, spraying the bathroom 

Paul reached behind him, was somehow able to get a grip on the 
wriggling soap, and threw it into the shower stall. He slammed the 
door shut, and held it as the soap and nozzle banged against the 
glass. He grasped the wash cloth, pulled it from his breast, and held 
it down with his foot.

"Oh geez." Paul leaned against the door, gasping, until eventually 
the banging stopped, the wash cloth stopped fighting, and, somehow, 
the water magically turned itself off. He looked through the 
translucent glass and saw the nozzle hanging limply and the soap on 
the floor. After a few more minutes, Paul stood up on wobbly legs, 
and toweled himself dry.

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

Rosemary had given Paul a very big bag of clothes to wear. It was 
about the size of a grass bag. Paul couldn't fathom why the bag was 
so big.

First, there was no bra this time. Instead, there was a true corset, 
with supported bra cups built in. It still had hooks and eyes, 
however, and as Paul put the corset around his waist, it pulled out 
of his hands, hugged his body and automatically tightened up the 
corset to the tightest snap. His breasts were pushed up and slightly 
together, creating deep and captivating cleavage. His waist was 
pinched in even further, and he found it difficult to take deep 
breaths. Also, he couldn't bend over, so stiff were the stays. 
Instead, it enforced good rules of posture, and he had to bend his 
knees to pick up anything.

Next were the panties, simple white nylon with a cotton crotch. 
However, they did have one unexpected feature, a seam down the center 
of the seat with additional fabric bunched around it. This had 
elastic sewn in, which outlined each ass cheek, cupped his buns, and 
gently brushed against his anus. He reached behind and pulled at the 
seat of the panties, but they tightened back into the crevice, 
intimately cupping his buttocks and spreading them slightly to expose 
his ass hole.

Third, black stockings smoothly slipped up his legs, stroking his 
feet, calves, and thighs as they went. At the top, the stocking tabs 
from the corset grabbed hold and fastened on, locking his legs into 
the stockings. He spread his toes in the nylon netting and marveled 
at his elegant feet. "If only she weren't so mean, if only this were 
temporary," he thought, "this might actually be fun."

After that, it was time for the half-slip. It covered his head and 
face, slipped down his body, and settled about his hips. Also nylon, 
it brushed smoothly against his stockings and over his pantied ass.

Then the underskirt and crinoline, which were the reason the bag was 
so large. This came out as a mass of stuff, but eventually sorted 
itself out into a skirt of fine bunched up netting, covered with 
simple cloth skirt. It flared out widely, creating an effect of 
considerable bulk around his hips and legs, although the whole 
ensemble was light and manageable.

Now it was time for the dress itself, and it was gorgeous. Of course 
it was strapless, exposing Paul's bare shoulders and back. The bodice 
was made of beautiful deep maroon velvet, and it was tailored to 
every curve of his torso, creating a stunning outline with his bosoms 
barely contained by the top. The skirt was made of a deep maroon 
changeable taffeta, which slid smoothly over the underskirt as he 
turned back and forth. As the dress slipped over his head, he thought 
that this might be the most beautiful outfit for his figure 
imaginable, and realized that it might not be much longer before his 
body succumbed completely to his new female occupant, and he 
permanently faded away. The dress embraced his body like a close 
friend, and the zipper slowly traveled up his back, closing him in 
into it's own velvet and taffeta prison.

After that, the rest was anti-climactic. Of course, new silk gloves 
traveled up each arm, isolated and encased each finger individually 
and clicked at the armholes, locked in place. Then he stepped into a 
pair of silk maroon heels, about 4 inches high, dyed to the same 
color as the dress. And there was one final touch, a silk maroon 
ribbon, also dyed to match, which went snuggly around his neck and 
displayed a small cameo in front.

Paul looked at his figure in the mirror, and realized that Janice was 
totally gorgeous. "No wonder she misses her" he thought. He took a 
look more closely at the cameo. The face carved into the ornament was 
his old masculine face carved in a 19th century style with top hat. 
Paul looked at it and felt tears slowly roll down his cheeks. He 
softly sobbed, realizing how remote that face now seemed.

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

"Oh, don't you look lovely!" Rosemary opened the door. Paul jumped 
for the stairs but she quickly touched his elbow, trapping it and 
jerking him harshly back. "It won't be long now, dear," she 
continued, "I can tell. You are looking more comfortable with your 
feminine body every minute. But, your hair is a mess! Let's fix that 
right away."

Rosemary dragged Paul into Janice's bedroom and sat him down roughly 
at the vanity. She welded his elbows to the vanity, which caused him 
to lean over a bit, with his face close to the mirror. She pulled out 
a hairbrush, and started to roughly tame his hair.

Paul's head was jerked to and fro as she brushed out the tangles and 
made it presentable. "Of course Janice's hair was brunette," she 
commented, "not this ugly dirty blonde color. But then, that's easy 
to fix!" She parted the hair in the middle and brushed the sides out 
some more.

And then came the scissors. "Hey!" Paul shouted. His hair was the 
last part of his male body left over, and now it too was being tamed 
and feminized.

"What?" Rosemary shot back. "What are you going to do?"

"Please don't, why do you have to do that?"

"We must look our best!"  Rosemary trimmed some of the locks away. 
"After all, you'll soon be entertaining company!"

"What!  Who?" Paul shouted.

"It's a surprise, now pipe down."

"No, I can't let this happen." Paul was frantic, and now furious. He 
took a deep breath and shouted at the top of his lungs.  

"I just knew it was going to come to this." Rosemary snapped her 
fingers twice and then touched his throat. Like turning off a switch, 
his voice was instantly silenced. Paul screamed and shouted and 
talked, but nothing came out other than air.

"That's better. Now, let's finish this off." She cut his bangs to an 
even length, then rubbed her fingers over his side-burns, which 
simply rubbed away, falling gently to the tabletop.  Apparently his 
new feminine face was more than just skin deep.

When she was finished, Paul looked in the mirror. Rosemary had 
achieved her purpose, for it no longer looked like a man's haircut. 
Instead, it was definitely feminine, though perhaps too short in 
places and unkempt in others. Certainly, no one would give it another 

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

Rosemary released Paul's elbows and turned him around in the chair. 
She pulled out some makeup and lightly did up his face. It didn't 
take much, just some powder and lipstick.

"There, now you stay there while I give your old friend a call. He's 
waiting next door and will come over right away." She chuckled, "you 
two are going to have so much to catch up on!" Rosemary opened the 
door and stepped out.

"It's now or never." Paul lunged for the open door.  He stumbled past 
Rosemary, unaccustomed to the high heels, and roughly pushed her to 
the floor. As he tried to take the stairs two at a time, a heel 
caught on the carpet, and sent him tumbling down, skirts and shoes 
flying as he desperately grabbed for the handrail. At the bottom, 
bruised, but OK, he scrambled to his feet, trying to gather the 
voluminous dress up.

By this time Rosemary had gotten back up to her knees and had crawled 
to the edge of the stairs. "Stop it right there!" she shouted, and 
jabbed a finger at him.

Instantly, Paul felt the silk ribbon constrict tightly around his 
neck, cutting off his airflow. Gathering up the rest of his skirts, 
he ran in his stocking feet into the kitchen, and tried the back 
door. Locked! He frantically looked around the kitchen for the keys, 
or a knife, or a pair of scissors. By the time he found a knife, the 
ribbon was so tight that there was no chance of cutting it without 
slitting his own throat. Regardless, he tried a couple of times, got 
nicked in the process, and then threw the knife to the floor in 

Paul was ransacking the drawers for a key when he finally blacked 

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

Paul awoke to smelling salts, and abruptly turned his head away. 
"Oh," he held his head with a splitting headache. He was back in 
Janice's bedroom, propped up against the headboard on pillows.

"Take this, it's aspirin." Paul took the pill and swallowed it down 
with water. "And, now drink this, it will make you feel better." 
Rosemary gave him another drink that was a dark milky color. Still 
not thinking clearly, and glad to ease the pain, Paul drank it down. 
It had a thick and sweet taste.

"That should get rid of your headache, and also make you a little 
more compliant. Now, you just relax, and I'll go call your friend, 
Jacob Johnson."

Paul tried to protest, but found his voice was still silenced by 
Rosemary's magic. He tried to follow Rosemary out the door, but in 
his weakened condition all he could do was lean over and flop down on 
the bed. She closed and locked the door behind her, and Paul could 
hear her walk down the stairs to the telephone.

After a few minutes, the medicine seeped into his body and gave Paul 
a nice woozy buzz. "Better than Southern Comfort," he thought to 

Thinking about his situation, Paul felt nearly all hope slip away. He 
held up his hands and flexed the elegant fingers in the fine silk 
gloves. "Those damn gloves!" he thought. "If only I had had some self 
control, this never would have happened." He felt his eyes softly 
fill up with tears as the medicine broke down his emotions.

As he looked from his gloves to his body, Paul felt the dress itself 
gently hug his body, and the skirts gently rustle and smooth 
themselves over his legs. The feeling was strangely comforting, this 
personal embrace by his animate clothing. "Thank you," he said, as he 
hugged his own chest. Paul felt with his hands over the velvet bodice 
of the dress, outlining his curves. The tears slowed down, replaced 
with resignation, and a feeling that he might as well enjoy what he 
thought might be his last few hours of consciousness.

Gently, the panties cupped his pert buns, separating them slightly, 
squeezing. Paul gasped, and reached down to feel his hips. Next, the 
panties worked their way in between the lips of his pussy, stroking 
gently up and down. "Ohhh..." Paul sighed, surrendering to the 
sensations. It had been about 20 minutes since Rosemary had left, and 
the potion had fully taken over his body, making Paul feel light-
headed, a bit giddy, and confused. When Rosemary and Jacob entered 
the room, he looked up with wide-eyed innocence at them.

[End of Part 3]

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