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newsFrom: Dani <70262.227@CompuServe.COM>Newsgroups:
alt.sex.storiesSubject: TG: Petticoating the Boss 1 (femdom, hypnosis,
fetish)Date: 28 Feb 1995 18:38:10 GMTOrganization: via CompuServe
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<3ivqii$7f$1@mhadf.production.compuserve.com> PETTICOATING THE BOSSby
'Dani' CHAPTER ONE: Angela Gets Dominant "Angela!  Come in here, please!"
Steven's voice roared through the office door to his assistant.  In
moments, she was in the doorway. "Yes, Steve.  May I help you?" she asked
sweetly. Steve looked her over: He had hired Angela, he had to admit,
mostly on the basis of her looks, but she had turned into the most
efficient assistant he had ever had.  Still she was a woman and looked
it--although she had recently changed her style of dress, it seemed. When
he hired her, Angela's tastes seemed given to flowery, flowing prints,
lace and silk.  Until the last six months, he had never seen her in
slacks.  Now, she stood before him in a black leather business suit with a
red satin blouse beneath the jacket.  The skirt was short and
tight--revealing her legs to mid-thigh.  And those legs were, as always,
spectacular, particularly now, perched on six-inch red heels.  She had cut
her hair recently as well, now wearing it in a stylish, but somewhat boyish
cut.  Her makeup remained impeccably tasteful--but it seemed more severe at
the same time.  When asked, she had passed the changes off as "the shifting
winds of fashion," but Steven suspected there was more to it. "I said, may
I help you, Steve?" Angela's repeated query broke her boss out of his
revery and he pointed to the coffeemaker on his credenza.  "I'm out of
coffee," he said.  "Make some more, will you? "Oh--and that pile of reports
needs to be photocopied," he added, indicating the two-foot stack of papers
on the corner of his desk. Angela sighed, and moved to the coffeemaker,

spooning co ffee into the machine, getting a pot of water, and then left,
picking up the reports on her way out.  She closed the door behind her and
leaned against it. In many ways, Steven was one of the best employers she
had ever had--but Angela had grown tired of his constant demands for her to
perform duties she felt were beneath her title of assistant.  She made the
coffee and copied the reports--but those days were soon to end, she
thought. A little over six months ago, Angela had met Mistress Jennifer and
Mistress Susan at a little bar on the East Side.  Each was accompanied by a
very intriguing companion.  Jennifer introduced the lovely blonde by her
side as Sissy Dani, her male lesbian slave.  At Angela's wide-eyed,
innocent stare, Jennifer displayed, surreptitiously, Dani's male equipment,
and then showed how his bracelets could be locked together--and how much
Dani loved the whole idea.  Dani also wore a sedate but attractive white
raw silk dress, its hem stopping six inches above her knees, sheer
stockings, and wh ite pumps with six-inch heels. Turning to Susan, Angela
noted that her friend, called Teasing Tammy, seemed quite young.  "Indeed
she is," answered Susan.  "Tammy is just 16--but a real cockteaser, as you
can tell from her clothing." Tammy was dressed in a short, frilly pink
minidress that did little to hide her full, lush figure.  She also wore
sheer pink stockings and pink, lace-trimmed ankle socks, while her feet
were shod in six-inch pink pumps.  Tammy seemed determined to pick up a man
in this bar, as she constantly let her skirt hike up to her stocking tops,
while she pouted her lips and let her tongue slip out in a teasing fashion.
"Actually, Tammy is my brother Tommy--he's been transformed just as Dani
has," Susan admitted.  "His role in life is to bring more men into our
little TV trap." Jennifer and Susan were both dressed in leather-- Jennifer
in a red leather skirt and white satin blouse with black, thigh-high
leather boots with six-inch heels, Susan in a black leather jumpsuit,
decorated with zippers , including one that ran from her collar to her
crotch, and was now pulled open to an inch below her otherwise naked
breasts.  She also wore six-inch heels, but hers were pumps set off by the
pale stockings that showed between her ankles and the zippered bottoms of
the pegged pants of her jumpsuit. Both had miniature whips hanging from
their belts, and a ring of keys.  Jennifer explained the keys were for an
assortment of locking bondage gear they kept in their purses. Susan pointed
out that Tammy was about to make a "conquest." A slender young man of about
22 had caught Tammy's eye and the two were now strolling to a dark booth
elsewhere in the bar.  "She'll signal us when she's ready for the next
step," Susan said.  "Tell us about yourself, Angela." Intrigued by the
unusual lifestyle these two attractive women had chosen for themselves,
Angela spoke about her job as Steven's assistant and about the increasing
frustration she felt at his consistent chauvinist attitude toward her and
her duties.  Jennifer grinned .  "Sounds like a terrific candidate for our
new transformation process," she pointed out.  "We've been using hypnosis
as our means of making our little darlings meet our expectations and
needs...but now, a doctor friend has suggested a new method, involving
drugs that heighten suggestibility.  She says the process might take a
little longer, but it wouldn't require the constant reinforcement that
hypnosis does.  Are you game?" Angela's brow knitted while she thought
about it.  "Let me see how you handle Tammy's 'conquest,'" she replied.  "I
want to see how this works." Jennifer and Susan agreed and the three turned
back to the bar to await Tammy's signal that her friend was ready for them
to pounce. Half an hour later, Angela joined the two dominants and their
slaves as they returned to Jennifer's house.  Tammy's "conquest," Sal,
slept peacefully between Dani and Tammy.  Susan explained that Tammy had
doused Sal's drink with a powerful sedative that would have the man knocked
out for hours.  Arriving at Jennifer's t hey carried the unconscious victim
into the bedroom and bound him to the vanity bench. Angela watched as they
stripped him of his clothes-- suit, shirt, underwear and all.  Tammy and
Dani, acting like a pair of ladies' maids, dressed Sal in lingerie: frilly
tap panties, padded bra, matching garterbelt, sheer stockings.  Jennifer
used cosmetics to feminize his youthful face--mascara, eyeshadow, blush and
lipstick.  She stepped back to examine her work.  Satisfied, she settled a
pair of earphones over Sal's head, turned out the overhead light and left
him, still bound to the vanity bench, facing the brightly lit mirror. "Now
what?" Angela asked. "Now the tape player will impress my hypnotic
suggestions on his sleeping mind," Jennifer answered.  "By morning, Sal
will be Sally--in everything but body. "Would you like to listen to a bit
of the tape?" she asked. Angela nodded, and Jennifer led her into the
adjoining room, where she flipped a switch.  Instantly, Jennifer's voice,
in a soft sultry tone, filled the room.  " I prepared this while Dani and
Tammy were dressing him," she told Angela. "You love women's clothes," the
recorded voice told the drowsing Sal.  "You love dressing and looking like
a woman.  The feel of satin, silk, and nylon arouses you.  You are
particularly fond of clothes that make you look like a servant.  The
traditional French maid's uniform--black satin minidress, cap, apron, black
hose and very high heels--is a special turn-on.  As such, your name will be
Serving Sally. "You are a sexual submissive.  You are compelled to obey the
commands and orders of women.  You are particularly responsive to those who
will dress you in beautiful clothes and keep you in bondage," the voice
continued.  "You want to be a male, lesbian slave.  But you will never
forget that you are a man, and the great humiliation of your feminine,
submissive state. "When the alarm clock strikes 6:30 a.m., you will awaken.
You will not remember being hypnotized, but you will be prepared to follow
my instructions implicitly.  When you see yours elf in the mirror upon
awakening, you will immediately come.  Forever after, the sight of yourself
as a woman will be equated with sex in your mind: You will be unable to
have sex while dressed as a male.  At the snapping of my fingers, you will
return to your 'normal' personality, with full memory of the humiliations
you have experienced.  The spoken phrase 'Tie your apron, Sally,' will
bring back your maid-servant-slave personality....." The voice drifted off
and was replaced by soft soothing music.  "The tape will repeat
periodically through the night," Jennifer explained.  "Now, come with me,"
she said. Susan, Jennifer and Angela spent the rest of the evening planning
Steven's transformation...but first would come Angela's own change.  The
two experienced dominants explained the importance of appearance--the
dominant, by dressing in clothes that accented her feminine charms while
also indicating her power, impressed a subtle message on the intended
submissive.  They went through many of their fashion magazines, pointing
out to Angela the clothes that would best befit her wanted role of dominant
woman. Susan and Jennifer invited Angela to join them in bed that night,
with Dani and Tammy, as well.  Angela, although she had never experienced
lesbian sex before, was enthralled with the pleasure she got from the
others, particularly when the dominants ordered their crossdressed slaves
to pleasure Angela's pussy and breasts.  Later, Angela had her first taste
of dominant power as she fucked Dani's ass with a dildo.  It was a heady
experience and set her firmly on the path of dominance.  Steven's days as a
free male were numbered! The next morning the three opened the door to
Sal/Sally's bedroom just before 6:30.  As the clock began ringing, Sal's
eyes popped open and he saw his feminized face in the brightly lit mirror
above the vanity.  At the same moment, his body shuddered and his cock
exploded, filling the tap panties with cum.  Jennifer, Susan and Angela all
laughed at the reluctant TV's embarrassment. "What the hell is g oing on?"
he yelled as he strained at his bonds.  "What are you doing to me?" "SHUT
UP!" shouted Jennifer.  "And TIE YOUR APRON, SALLY!" Angela watched the
lingerie-clad man's eyes glaze over, as the feminine, submissive
personality Jennifer's posthypnotic commands imposed took over his body. 
He lowered his eyes and said, apologetically, "Of course, Mistress.  How
may I serve you?" "Wow!" thought Angela.  "If he's this easy to handle
after just one night of commands, how much can I manage to do with Steven
once I get my claws into him?" She watched as Jennifer unbound Sally and
showed her the maid's outfit laid out on the bed.  The mesmerized TV
practically threw herself at the satin uniform she had been trained to
desire...and Angela observed how the little darling's cock filled the
panties again. With an urgency born of erotic desire, Sally slipped on the
seven-inch black patent-leather pumps laid out for her, tied on her apron,
perched her cap on her still masculine curls and curtseyed to the three
women.  "I a m ready to serve, Mistresses--what may I do for you?" Susan
grinned as she circled the new maid, reaching under the petticoats to pat
her ass.  "Go make our bed, then start breakfast," she told Serving Sally,
then chuckled as she watched the pantied ass under the petticoated
miniskirt wiggle off to her chores. Angela watched as well...and
contemplated how she would alter Steven's psyche to her own demands.  Path:
usenet.ucs.indiana.edu!vixen.cso.uiuc.edu!howland.reston.ans.net!cs.utexas.
edu!uunet!in1.uu.net!news.inhouse.compuserve.com!news.production.compuserve
.com!newsFrom: Dani <70262.227@CompuServe.COM>Newsgroups:
alt.sex.storiesSubject: TG: Petticoating the Boss 2 (femdom, hypnosis,
fetish)Date: 28 Feb 1995 18:42:25 GMTOrganization: via CompuServe
Information ServiceLines: 201Message-ID:
<3ivqqh$7f$2@mhadf.production.compuserve.com> CHAPTER TWO: Steven Becomes
Stephanie Steven poured himself a cup of the strong coffee that Angela had
made and settled into his chair.  He ran his tongue over his
teeth--something was different about this coffee.  Not that it tasted
bad--just different, somehow. Outside his office, Angela watched through
the glass wall as Steven downed mouthful after mouthful of the brew.  She
smiled secretively.  This was the beginning of Steven's transformation, she
thought. But in reality, that transformation had begun six months ago with
her own change from sweet, frilly secretary type to dyna
mic, dominant assistant.  The afternoon of the creation of Susan's new
maid Sally (nee Sal), her two new friends had invited her to Mistress
Margaret's beauty salon.  "If you're going to be a dominant, you need a
whole new look," Jennifer told her.  "Besides, maybe it will give you some
ideas for Stephanie's new life as well." The visit to Margaret's
establishment was another revelation for Angela.  In the back room of the
otherwise normal beauty salon, the dominant beautician maintained a
business devoted to aiding her mistress friends and associates in turning
their husbands, boyfriends and sons into sweetly submissive little
transvestites. There was only one TV client today, a boy of about 15 named
Nathaniel.  His mother, Eva, had grown tired of his constant carping about
the greater freedom she gave his sister.  "You want to be a girl--so be
it!" she said to him as Margaret tied him down to the special chair used
for difficult cases.  The lad continued to struggle--so hard that Margaret

knew she would never be able to do her transforming work.  She produced a
hypodermic filled with a bright blue liquid. "This will calm him down," the
hairdresser told Eva.  "He'll be nearly catatonic until I give him the
antidote," she added, as she pressed the syringe into Nathaniel's arm. 
"Plus, it will allow you to impress any special orders you might want." Eva
grinned.  "Oh, I have some special orders, all right!" Margaret turned the
boy's transformation over to an assistant and escorted Angela back to the
main part of the salon.  "I think I know just the right 'look' for you,
Angela," she said.  She opened a presentation book filled with glossy
photos of models in a variety of hair styles and makeups.  She flipped
through several pages, then stopped, pointing out a particular shot.  "What
do you think?" "Perfect!" Angela glowed--this would shock the pants off
Steven for sure--pun intended. Margaret started work--trimming Angela's
shoulder- length hair to a boyish shag, then using mousse and gel to make
it into a tousled halo then s et off her high cheekbones.  Next was the
makeup: a completely new look for the formerly shy and retiring Angela. 
Instead of the pale blues, pinks and roses she normally chose for herself,
Margaret went for stronger colors.  Her eyes were accented with deep brown
shadow and a heavy application of mascara, lengthening her lashes 'til she
could feel them brush her cheeks with every blink.  The blush was a deep
rose, making her cheekbones stand out further.  Finally, a deep red
lipstick, shiny and wet--matched by the same color on her finger- and
toenails. The whole process took the better part of two hours.  As she
helped Angela from the chair, Margaret asked, "Would you like to see
Nathaniel, now?" "Would I ever!" Angela replied, following the beauty salon
proprietress into the back. Sitting in the bondage chair was a very
different person from the mousy teenager they had left two hours ago. 
Nathaniel's brown hair had been changed to a vibrant red, which served to
bring out the natural green of his eyes and his f
reckles.  It had further been permed into attractive ringlets that hung
to his shoulders.  Those green eyes were highlighted by shadows and
mascaras in green and brown.  A light dusting of blush (not enough to hide
the beguiling freckles) brought out the transformed boy's cheekbones and a
soft pink lipstick made his mouth look sweet and girlish.  Overall, this
was a knockout any teenaged boy would beg for a date. He sat upright in the
chair, his mind and body still enthralled to the drug Margaret had injected
into him earlier.  Now she produced the antidote.  "Wait!" Eva interrupted.
"I haven't given him his 'orders' yet." Eva turned to the lovely young
thing who had been her son only two hours ago.  "Your name is Natasha. 
While you are constantly aware of your true male gender, you are unable to
reveal that gender to anyone.  You will always act like a girl of 15--a
girl who thoroughly enjoys being as feminine as possible at all times. "You

receive a sexual thrill from wearing the most feminine of clothes: lace, si
lk, satin, nylon.  But you cannot abide the feel of pants on your legs--in
fact, pulling on a pair of pants causes you great pain." She smiled evilly
and looked at Margaret.  "Jennifer suggested that one--she'll never be able
to appear as a boy again!" The dominant mother turned again to her new
"daughter." "You are totally devoted to me and to your sister," she told
the young TV.  "Any order we give you is like the greatest wish you ever
had--to be fulfilled immediately. "All right," she said to Margaret, "wake
her up." The syringe with the antidote sank into Natasha's arm and in
moments, the beautiful green eyes fluttered.  "Oh mother!" the soft voice
cried.  "I'm beautiful--thank you so much!" "You're welcome," Eva replied,
settling into another of the salon's chairs, pulling her skirt up to reveal
her unclad sex.  "Now come over here and show your appreciation." Without
hesitation, Natasha sank to her knees before her mother and buried her face
in Eva's crotch. Margaret and Angela tiptoed out, silently closing the door
behind them. Angela thought back on that first time she had seen the
dominants' amazing mind-control drug in action.  But she knew there was no
way she could manage to inject the chemical into Steven.  Fortunately,
Jennifer and Susan had told her that it could be taken orally as well...and
though the effect took longer to build up, repeated applications would
result in a totally pliable male psyche--with the subject unaware of the
way in which his mind had been altered. She had been slipping the drug into
Steven's food--lunch, coffee, water--for the past month.  Today should be
the day: When he finished his current cup of coffee, there should be enough
of the chemical in his system for him to fall victim to her suggestions.
She glanced into the office.  He had placed the empty cup on his desk--now
was the time.  She picked up her phone and dialed his intercom number. 
"Yes?" he responded. "Steven, you are frozen to your chair," she told him.
"You cannot move; you cannot speak, until I permit it." She lo oked into
the office, he was rigid in his seat--it was working!  She hung up the
phone and entered his office, locking the door behind her and pulling the
blinds on the glass wall. "All right, Steven, you can talk," she said.
"Angela--wha-what's going on?  What's happening?" he blurted out. "Shut
up!" she ordered, and instantly his mouth closed.  "I have carefully
constructed a little trap for you, Steven.  A trap of lace, silk, nylon and
satin.  Stand up and come here." He obeyed.  She pulled a pair of pink
satin tap panties from her pocket and held them out before her.  "You want
these, Steven, more than you have ever wanted anything in your life.  They
represent everything desirable in the world--money, a beautiful woman, sex!
Most of all sex." She watched the hunger in his eyes as he gazed at the
lovely pair of panties she waved before him.  She watched his hands clutch
and unclutch at his sides; he wanted to grab the panties from her but could
not until she permitted it.  Angela tossed the panties to the floor.  "
Pick them up and put them on." Practically tearing off his pants and
shorts, Steven picked up the panties and pulled them up his legs, settling
them about his loins, rubbing their satiny softness against his cock and
balls.  "That's enough of that--stand still!" she commanded. "Put your
pants back on and leave for home.  I will arrive precisely one hour behind
you.  By then, you are to have taken a bath and completely shaved your
body, except for your head, of course.  When I ring, you will greet me at
the door dressed only in your panties.  Now go!" Steven pulled on his pants
and mechanically walked out of the office.  Angela sat on the edge of the
desk and laughed.  Well, Steven-- we'll soon find out what kind of a
Stephanie you make! That evening, dressed in a black leather corset, jacket
and skirt, with sheer black nylons and six-inch heels, Angela rang Steven's
doorbell.  Within moments, the door swung open and there stood her
once-masculine boss, body nearly as smooth and pink as the panties on his
hips.  His c ock strained against the satin. "Excellent," Angela commented.
"Now, it's time to complete your transformation." She brought in the
suitcase she carried and opened it.  Inside was an array of feminine
clothing of every kind, from prom gown to hooker's costume.  Angela pulled
out a set of pink lingerie that matched the panties her boss already wore
and ordered him to put on the bra, garter belt and waltz-length slip. 
"This will do for now. "Steven, in a few moments, I will order you to bed,
dressed just as you are.  While you are asleep, a new treatment of hormones
and chemicals will begin, along with a set of sleep-learning commands. 
Within the week, you will be Stephanie whenever I want her." She could see
the look of surprise and fear that entered his eyes.  And at the same time,
a look of longing and want.  He wanted this treatment more than he could
ever say...whether that was latent desire or something created by the drugs
in his system she could not say.  But Angela was overjoyed to see both
emotions--she wa nted him to suffer in his new identity, but she also
wanted him to desire it. Moments later, Steven was carefully tucked into
bed.  Angela set up the intravenous line into his arm as she had been
instructed, the line that would slowly drip a dilute solution of female
hormones and drugs into his system.  To increase his feelings of femininity
and helplessness, she had thrust a vibrating dildo deep into his ass and
tied him to the bed with satin scarves.  She fitted the headphones over his
ears and turned out the light.  "Good night, Stephanie." Once outside the
room, she switched on the tape player.  "Good evening, Stephanie," it
began. "That is your name, unless Mistress Angela allows you to answer to
another.  You have no will of your own, only the ability to respond to
Mistress Angela's commands.  You desire to wear women's clothes in whatever
fashion Mistress Angela suggests--and your mind will conform to the clothes
you wear.  Dressed as a French maid, you will be sexy, flirty and devoted
to serving your Mistre ss.  In the clothes of a hooker, you will be
compelled to offer your body to any man with the money to pay for it. 
Dolled up as a little girl, you will act as if the Mistress were your Mommy
and obey her in everything.  Now sleep, these instructions will repeat
later." Angela turned off the speakers as the soft music faded in. 
Tomorrow would be Stephanie's debut!

   Path:
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om: Dani <70262.227@CompuServe.COM>Newsgroups: alt.sex.storiesSubject: TG:
Petticoating the Boss 3 (femdom, hypnosis, fetish)Date: 28 Feb 1995
18:48:53 GMTOrganization: via CompuServe Information ServiceLines:
231Message-ID: <3ivr6l$7f$3@mhadf.production.compuserve.com> CHAPTER THREE:
Stephanie Goes Shopping The two young women, each stylishly dressed but in
opposing fashions, strolled through the suburban mall. The tall blonde with
the short-cropped hair was clad in leather: black leather jacket over a
royal blue satin blouse and a tight black leather miniskirt revealing
nearly seven inches of her black nylon-sheathed thighs.  Her shoes were
black kid pumps with six-inch heels. Her companion was dressed in a
flowing, flowery silk print dress in lavender and blue.  It, too, had a
short skirt with gentle pleats.  Her splendid legs were covered in sheer
nylon
s and hints of her stocking tops and garters showed as her skirt
flounced around her thighs.  Her shoes were blue sandals with seven-inch
heels, revealing her coral-painted toenails that matched her perfectly
manicured fingernails.  Her auburn hair hung in gentle waves to her
shoulders. As they passed various stores in the mall, Angela (the one in
leather) often pointed out particular outfits on display, telling Stephanie
how lovely she would look in such a dress.  Stephanie would giggle and
simper, amused that her companion found her so attractive.  Onlookers would
have thought some of the clothes that Angela suggested were rather unusual,
for they included a little girl's party dress and Mary Janes, a fanciful
maid's uniform in a costume shop and a revealing satin teddy in a lingerie
display. Inwardly, Angela was laughing her head off.  Stephanie, once her
insufferable boss Steven, was helpless to have any other reaction to this
little window-shopping excursion.  When Angela had dressed the newly

submissive TV in this floral print design, she had impressed upon him that
it was the type of clothing that a bubble-headed society deb might
wear--and so Stephanie was forced to act just that way. But behind that
facade, Steven still knew who he was--and he could not believe all that had
changed in his life in the past two days. The morning after Angela first
imposed her will on Steven, she tiptoed quietly into the bedroom where he
was tied down, an intravenous line dripping a combination of feminine
hormones and suggestibility-heightening drugs into his system.  She
carefully lifted the headphones off his ears--the headphones that had
filled his mind with her carefully prepared commands all night--pulled out
the IV and untied the satin scarves that held him to the bed. "Wake up,
Stephanie," she called quietly.  His eyes fluttered for a moment and then
he smiled at her--a sweet, feminine smile, despite the absence of makeup
and long hair. "Good morning, Mistress," he answered in a soft, husky,
well-controlled contralto.  "H ow may I serve you?" "We have a busy day
ahead of us, Stephanie," Angela said.  "You have an appointment at the
beauty salon--and we have lots of outfits for you to try on.  Climb out of
bed, sleepy head, throw on that peignoir and slip your feet into those
mules.  It's time for breakfast." The half-feminized male followed his
erstwhile assistant to the kitchen.  Angela had a whopping big breakfast of
toast, bacon, eggs, juice and coffee...while Stephanie had to be satisfied
with just a half grapefruit and coffee.  Angela was determined to whittle
the already slender Stephanie down to a 22-inch waist and a size seven
dress. Since the beauty salon appointment was at Mistress Margaret's,
Angela knew she needn't worry about how outrageous she chose to make
Stephanie's appearance for the day.  Margaret's clientele knew all about
domination and forced crossdressing; indeed, many of them delighted in it.
After breakfast, Angela pulled out a lacy pink party dress for Stephanie.
Though adult-sized, it was clearly of a sty le intended for a girl of nine
or ten, featuring as it did a pink satin sash with a big bow and puffed
sleeves.  Beneath it, Stephanie would wear ruffled pink panties, three
stiff white taffeta petticoats, knee socks and black patent- leather Mary
Janes. As each of the little girlish articles of clothing was placed on
her, Stephanie felt her self-image shifting.  No longer the submissive
adult lover, she thought of herself as Angela's little sister--still
completely submissive to the older woman's will but no longer in an erotic
fashion.  She was, in her mind, a child--and children always obey their
elders. However, the effect of the clothing on the adult body, still padded
out to attractive feminine proportions, was decidedly erotic.  The 36-inch
breasts showed their curve under the pink lace bodice, while the long legs,
with their womanly curves and smooth, hairless thighs, were shown to
excellent effect under the short skirt and petticoats. And for a dominant
with an urge to feminize her males like Angela, t he unadorned male face
with the short hair above the ultra-feminine, ultra-childish garments was
doubly erotic.  Angela felt her own pussy getting hot and wet as she gazed
on this creation, her own little Galatea. "You're just the sweetest thing,
little Stephy," she told the dominated man-girl.  "But it's time for you to
get even sweeter.  Come with me." She forced Stephanie's hands into lace
gloves and handed her a small black patent purse to carry.  Then, without a
care as to what any of Steven's neighbors might think, she took the
childishly dressed TV by the hand and led him out of the apartment and down
to her car. Moments later, they were in Margaret's shop.  "Hello again,
Angela," the dominant beautician greeted her warmly, with a firm, wet kiss
on the lips.  "And this must be Stephanie!  Well, you come with me,
darling, and we'll have you looking as pretty as can be in no time." Angela
smiled as she watched the adult-sized little girl mince off behind
Margaret. She had already given her instructions as to h ow Stephanie was
to be transformed, so she settled back in one of the waiting room chairs,
opening one of the many magazines devoted to female dominance and
transvestism that Margaret kept available for her special clientele. Back
in the "transformation room," Margaret stripped Stephanie down to her
lingerie, which reasserted her more adult persona.  After a facial,
Margaret began applying the cosmetics--dark brown mascara, eyeshadow in a
range of shades from pale blue to deep purple, a rose blush (heavily
applied for the embarrassed look so many of the dominants preferred on
their TV slaves), and deep red lipstick.  At the same time, one of
Margaret's own TV slaves, a lovely thing named Karen, manicured Stephanie's
hands and coated her nails with a double layer of polish, in a shade that
matched her lips.  Then Karen stripped off Stephanie's shoes and knee socks
and performed the same function for her feet and toenails. The last step
was the wig that Margaret had prepared.  Since Steven's own hair was still
too short for the right effect, this auburn creation, its shoulder-length
curls close in color to his natural hair, would substitute for the next few
months.  Margaret carefully fitted it in place, did a few touch ups and
then called Angela in. The new dominant was ecstatic.  "Oh, Margaret, she's
beautiful!  More lovely than I could have dreamed she would be!" She turned
to her crossdressed boss.  "Stephanie, it's time for you to get dressed
again--but I've brought a new outfit for you." She produced a pastel
lavender and blue floral print dress, its lines flowing and loose, with a
short, pleated skirt. As Stephanie let it fall over her head, Angela
described the type of woman who would wear such an outfit.  "This dress is
designed for the young debutante, the girl who never works in her life. 
Indeed, she is incapable of holding down a job, she's such a ditz.  Her
only pleasures in life are shopping and spending money, especially on
herself." With each word, and with each swish of the new dress against his
skin, Stev en's mind was altered into the new version of Stephanie.  The
posthypnotic suggestions that Angela had impressed upon him were
working--every piece of clothing he wore as Stephanie changed his persona.
Now, as he slipped on the seven-inch heels that went with the flowery
dress, he became this ditz-queen deb. Angela handed him the purse, filled
with the cash she had removed from his bank account the day before, and
announced, "Stephanie, let's go shopping!" "Oh, yes, Angela," Stephanie
squealed in response, "let's go!" So, now, after about an hour of traipsing
around the mall, Angela steered her companion into a store with a
fascinating name: "Jessica's House of Fantasy." "Hello, Trish," Angela
called to the young woman behind the counter.  "Stephanie, Trish here is
just like you--a girl who used to be a boy." Both of the submissive TVs
blushed at having their secrets so revealed.  "Is Jessica about?" Angela
asked. "She's in the back, laying out the clothes you asked her to prepare,
Mistress Angela," the pretty brunette replied.  "Shall I summon her for
you?" "Don't bother, dear," Angela replied.  "I know the way.  Come along,
Stephanie." She led the way through a curtained doorway in the rear of the
shop. Jessica was a middle-aged woman who maintained a youthful figure and
outlook on life.  About three years ago she had transformed her son Patrick
into the lovely Trish, now 20 years old.  In addition to serving as counter
girl, Trish also often acted as a model for her mother's unusual clothing
collection. Today, Jessica was dressed in a low-cut white silk blouse and
skirt combination, her excellent legs perched on five-inch heels.  Her
salt-and-pepper hair was twisted into a tight French braid, revealing her
elegant neck with the gold choker around it.  "Angela, darling!" she cried.
"And is this Stephanie?" Stephanie blushed once again in acknowledgement,
extending her hand as she had been taught.  The older woman took the TV's
hand in hers and pulled Stephanie to her embrace, then planted a full, wet
kiss on the man-wom an's mouth, her eager tongue probing deep within. 
Unnerved, Stephanie found herself responding to the kiss and felt her cock
grow within her panties. "OK, Jess, that's enough," Angela interrupted. 
"There'll be plenty of time for both of us to enjoy Stephanie's charms
tonight.  Right now, we have to find some clothes for her." "Of course,
Angie," Jessica answered.  "How about this?" She held up a white satin
blouse and shorts outfit.  "Just the thing for a picnic--or gardening."
"Terrific--let's see her in it." She ordered Stephanie out of the floral
print dress and the lingerie she had worn since leaving the house that
night.  Now totally naked, Stephanie's psyche became a blank slate, waiting
for the clothing and Angela's description of the woman who wore it to write
her personality upon it. Jessica produced a pair of plain white panties and
a white demi-bra for Stephanie to wear beneath the minuscule outfit.  The
white satin shorts were extremely brief and tight, nearly hot pants.  They
revealed Stephanie's smoo th, hairless legs from just below the ass cheeks.
The matching blouse had but three buttons, so that it hung open in a V to
just below her breasts.  Its short sleeves left her arms uncovered as well.
The finishing touch was a pair of white sandals that strapped on, showing
off Stephanie's extremely feminine feet with their twinkling red toenails.
"This is a great outfit for a teenager to wear on a picnic, isn't it,
Jessica?" Angela noted, beginning the personality change in Stephanie. "Or
for a trip to the mall, so she can attract the attention of all the hunky
boys," Jessica suggested, knowing Angela's plan.  Unable to do anything
about it, Steven felt his psyche shift again, becoming younger, giggly,
full of youthful spirits. "Yes, but any girl who would show herself off
like this must be something of a slut," Angela went on.  "Maybe even a bit
of a cocktease." That did it.  The new Stephanie was born.  With every
ounce of her being, this girl wanted sex, but on her terms.  She would lead
a boy on until he was b egging for her bF command copies all lines from the
current line up to, but excluding, the first line found that begins with
the specified string, and appends them to the text buffer's current
contents.  Format: give him only what she pleased. Jessica laughed, "My
god, that's amazing!  Why I could literally watch her whole personality
change before my eyes." She picked up a black spandex outfit, so small it
looked like a belt with a small skirt attached. "Oh, that's the hooker
look," Angela explained.  "Combined with the sheer black nylons and garter
belt and the seven-inch heels, it'll make her eager to sell her body to any
man or woman who offers money. "But that persona has already been
established by my tape last night.  Let's see what else we can come up
with."

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newsFrom: Dani <70262.227@CompuServe.COM>Newsgroups:
alt.sex.storiesSubject: TG: Petticoating the Boss 4 (femdom, hypnosis,
fetish)Date: 28 Feb 1995 22:22:58 GMTOrganization: via CompuServe
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<3j07o3$e6t$1@mhade.production.compuserve.com> CHAPTER FOUR: "PICTURE
PERFECT" "Oh, here's a great idea!" Jessica cried, handing Angela a formal
evening gown, of the type a teenager might wear to her senior prom.  "I
think with a few touches--and your instinct for the right description of
the kind of girl who would wear this--we can have a very interesting
version of Stephanie to enjoy." Each set of clothes Angela dressed the
little TV in, combined with Angela's description of the kid of woman who
would wear it, succeeded in placing a new persona in Stephanie's roster of
identities. The gown was hot pink, with a sweetheart neckl
ine that revealed Stephanie's budding bosom.  It was tightly fitted in
the bodice, then expanded into a swirl of net, lace and satin in the skirt,
ending at the TV's ankles.  Beneath it, the women had dressed the former
Steven in virginal white lingerie, including a garter belt, and sheer pink
stockings with diamond clock work at the ankles.  The shoes were pink satin
dancing pumps with five-inch heels. As they completed the outfit, Angela
told Stephanie of the girl who wore the gown.  "You are off to the prom,
Stephanie," she began, "but your date is a little kinky." She slipped a
wrist corsage on the boy-girl's left arm, then put a heavy silver band
around her right wrist.  "He wants to make sure you don't stray to any
other young stud--so he has bound you." With that, she hooked the band of
the corsage through the bracelet on the other arm, then padlocked it in
place.  Stephanie's arms were tied together, the bonds hidden by the
flowers of the corsage she seemed to carry so delicately before her. "But

your date wants to make sure you are ready for the after- prom festivities
as well, Stephanie," Angela continued, producing a vibrating dildo.  She
lifted up the gown's skirt in back as she spoke.  "He wants you HOT!  This
vibrator will fill your 'pussy' until his cock can do the same." She turned
on the vibrator deep within Stephanie's ass and dropped the skirt of the
gown. "All this has turned you on, Stephanie.  You want to be his little
bondage slave.  You hope the prom will end early so he can show you what
other ways he will control you from now on," Angela concluded. They let
Stephanie enjoy the fantasy Angela had cooked up for a few minutes, while
they sipped coffee and made small talk. "Have you anything else that's
interesting, Jess?" Angela asked, finally. "Well, other than the classic
French maid's costume, I have one other idea," she answered, rummaging into
a pile of clothes.  "Ah, here it is!" She produced a white satin dress on a
hanger. "A bridal gown--terrific!" Angela replied, quickly preparing the
hapl ess Stephanie for yet another shift in her psyche. "But this is no
ORDINARY bridal gown," Jessica pointed out, as the unusual outfit settled
over Stephanie's form.  "Look--the front is cut short, mini-style, so her
lovely legs show completely, while the back forms a train.  And the
sleeves--see?" Stephanie soon saw what her mistress's boutique-owner friend
meant.  The sleeves were really just one sleeve: When her arms were in the
lacy tunnels, they met in a pair of mittens that forced her to hold her
hands folded before her.  The gown was also TIGHT!  It constricted her
waist, pressed against her bosom, its high lacy neckline contrasting with
the short skirt in front.  With it, Angela dressed her little doll in white
lace panties, a matching garter belt and lacy white stockings.  The shoes
were white satin pumps with a floral pattern and six-inch heels. "She's a
bondage bride!" Angela exclaimed.  "Oh, this is wonderful, Jess!" The
dominant turned to Stephanie, thrusting a dildo deep in the helpless
boy-girl's mout h.  "Stephanie, in this dress you are at once virginal and
wanton.  You will suck that dildo like a real cock, always wishing it were
one.  At that same time, you are deeply embarrassed by your bound and
exposed state." With that, Angela locked a silver chain around Stephanie's
ankles, limiting her stride to a mere six inches.  "You will wear this
until your stride is naturally the mincing walk I want to see from my
bondage bride," she told the TV. Stephanie felt her personality take on the
tone her mistress described.  She felt her face burn hot with shame, at the
same time the rubber cock filled her mouth that slobbered all over it and
her own cock grew large and heavy in her lacy panties.  As instructed, she
practiced her tail- and breast-wiggling walk in the extreme heels and
chains.  No man with an interest in B&D could have resisted this image. The
two dominant women reveled in the TV's humiliation for several minutes,
then ordered a halt. "Stephanie, it's time to leave," Angela announced. 
"Jess, do you have catalog photos of these outfits we've tried on?" "Sure,
Angie--what are you up to?" Jessica replied. "I've got an idea for a way to
bring out these various personalities in Stephanie.  I'm going to give it a
try at home." By now, Stephanie was once again in her ditzy deb outfit--and
the mindset to match. "Oh, Angela!  All these clothes are SO scrumptious!
Can I buy them all?" the TV exclaimed. "Certainly, Stephanie," Angela
answered.  "I want you to." With that, she pulled Steven's credit card out
of her purse and had the entire wardrobe--satin short set, hooker dress,
prom gown, bridal gown, French maid uniform--charged to his account.  Then
they said their goodbyes to Jessica and Trish and left. That evening, in
Steve's apartment, Angela tacked the photos of the various outfits on a
wall and stood Stephanie--clad in lingerie alone--before the display.
"Stephanie," she announced, "these pictures represent the various
personalities hidden within you.  Whenever you see one of them, that
persona will come to the f ore.  You will have an irresistible urge to
dress in the appropriate costume and serve me.  No matter where you are--no
matter whether you are Steven or Stephanie--your mind will shift as you
have been instructed.  Do you understand?" "Yes, Mistress Angela," the
mesmerized submissive answered. Angela began removing the photos from the
wall as she continued, "When I close the door behind me tonight, you will
take a dose of the drugs I have left for you, remove your lingerie and
store it in the drawer I have indicated.  Then you will start the tape I
have left and go to bed.  When you awake in the morning, you will remember
nothing of today's activities, except the instructions I have given you. 
You will follow this routine every evening until I say otherwise.  Steven
will always be unaware of Stephanie--but Stephanie will always Steven is
inside her and will fill his shame at his feminized state.  Good night,
Stephanie...I'll see you at work tomorrow." And with that, Angela walked
out the door.  Following her instr uctions, Stephanie drank the concoction
of narcotic and hormones, put away her clothes and went to bed, with the
instruction tape whispering in her ears. Over the next two days, Steven
often pondered over the 36 hours of lost memory, but hesitated to mention
it to anyone.  After all, no one wanted an executive who had memory losses
or blackouts.  Otherwise, everything in his life seemed normal.  Angela
seemed very attentive and was doing her usual terrific job as his
assistant. Maybe he would have to give her more money. For her part, Angela
was merely biding her time, letting the nightly dose of chemicals and sleep
learning sink in before springing the next stage in her trap.  By lunch
time on the third day after Steven's first transformation, she was ready.
She prepared a very special message and took it to a local office supply
store, one that would send faxes for those without fax machines. "I'd like
this sent to this number," she said to the clerk, handing him a single
sheet of paper.  "And at precisely thr ee o'clock," she added. "But this is
just around the corner, isn't it?  Why not just deliver by hand?" the clerk
asked. "It's a surprise for a friend in the office," Angela answered, not
exactly lying.  With that, the clerk took the "message" and prepared to
send it when requested. At three that afternoon, Steve was told there was a
fax coming in for him.  He would have to pick it up himself, since Angela
had gone home sick.  He went to the fax machine and watched as the
"message" came in.  When it was complete, he picked it up and looked at it.
On the single page was a photo of a girl in a French maid's uniform and the
handwritten note, "Go home, Stephanie." Immediately, Steven felt a change
come over him...he was no longer Steve the executive, but Stephanie, the
sexy French maid.  Giggling and mincing (even in his male clothes), he
hurried to the elevator.  "I must get home to greet my Mistress," he
thought.  With increasing urgency, as the chemicals and commands demanded,
she sped to her apartment. Deep within h im, Steven thought, "I must look
ridiculous," but his outer mind and body could not resist the deep
conditioning his Mistress had placed upon him.  It took him twenty minutes
to get home by subway, his extremely feminine movements attracting stares
and ridicule the whole way. Reaching his apartment door, he discovered that
his keys were missing.  Sheepishly, he rang the bell.  The door swung open
and there stood his Mistress Angela, dangling the key ring from her index
finger.  Behind her stood a bevy of beautiful women--some dominant from the
look of their leather clothes, others obviously submissive in their lacy
finery and surreptitious bondage.  Many of the salves were obviously
transformed men. "About time you got here, Stephanie," Angela announced. 
"All my friends and their salves are waiting for the party to start.  Go
get into your uniform." Stephanie minced into the bedroom, where she found
the black satin and white lace costume waiting.  She stripped off Steven's
business suit, shirt and tie, then picked up the extremely restrictive
corset necessary for the maid's dress to fit.  She hooked it around her
waist, just as Angela entered. "Excellent, Stephanie.  Here, let me help
you lace that up," she offered, taking the leather laces of the corset in
her hands.  She put her knee into the boy-girl's back and pulled,
tightening the laces with all her might.  After several such tugs,
Stephanie's waist had been reduced to a mere 20 inches.  With a flourish,
Angela tied the laces off, then covered them with Krazy Glue--Stephanie
would get out of this corset when her Mistress desired and not a moment
sooner. Now Stephanie sat and did her makeup as her sleep learning had
taught her--and soon she was again the stunning auburn-haired young woman
who had left Margaret's beauty salon two weeks ago.  Next, she clipped on
dangling earrings.  Then came the padded bra, filling out her figure to a
full 36C.  Angela had not laid out panties, so the garter belt was next,
followed by sleek black stockings of real silk.  Three layers of w hite and
red taffeta petticoats followed, standing nearly horizontal from her
corseted waist.  Then the dress: Made of heavy black satin, it clung to her
artificial curves; its short skirt, sitting atop the stiff, rustly
petticoats, revealed her legs all the way to the stocking tops and garters.
The final touch was the black patent-leather pumps; Stephanie teetered on
their seven-inch heels. Angela again stepped forward, locking a tiny
padlock through the zipper catch on the back of the dress, followed by a
gold choker collar (also locked) around Stephanie's throat and matching
heavy gold chains about her left wrist and ankle.  "Step back, Stephanie,
dear." The Mistress observed her creation and smiled, triumphantly.  "All
right, Stephanie," Angela announced.  "The party's about to begin--and you
will serve my guests as you would serve me!"

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alt.sex.storiesSubject: TG: Petticoating the Boss 5 (femdom, hypnosis,
fetish)Date: 28 Feb 1995 22:25:20 GMTOrganization: via CompuServe
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<3j07sg$e6t$2@mhade.production.compuserve.com> CHAPTER FIVE: STEPHANIE'S
FATE Angela handed a platter with hors d'ouevres to Stephanie and sent the
tranvestized maid out into the party.  Each of the guests was one of
Angela's new group of friends, dominant women all.  Each was accompanied by
a slave--some, like Mistress Jennifer, by a submissive TV...others by a
submissive lesbian companion.  The assembled dominants applauded as
Stephanie minced into the room on her seven-inch heels, carefully balancing
the heavy platter. One or two fondled her ass beneath the ruffled
petticoats of her maid's uniform.  The programming pl
aced in her mind by Angela's careful ministrations permitted Stephanie
only to blush at these indignities, and to giggle a provocative mock
protest, "Oh, no, madame!" As she circulated with the appetizers, Stephanie
noted a single "man" within the room.  He was securely bound to a chair in
the center, with a business-suited woman beside him.  Her eyes never left
this out-of-place emblem of masculinity in the room full of women. 
Finally, Angela came up to her side. "Interested in our little captive,
Stephanie?" she asked.  "That's His Honor, Justice George Marshall of the
State Supreme Court.  The woman behind him is his law clerk, Nancy.  She
has grown tired of his repeated advances and his never-ceasing male
chauvinism--just as I did with your alter ego, Steven.Therefore, she has
brought him to us, her dominant friends, to be transformed and controlled,
just as you were.  His 'change' will be the central entertainment of the
party--and YOU will assist!" Steven, hidden somewhere deep within

Stephanie, could hardly believe it.  Here he was, so recently transformed
himself, expected to aid in the making of yet another helpless man/woman.
It was absurd--yet his programming now ran so deeply that he gave no
thought to the idea of rebelling. Half an hour later, at the height of the
party, Angela announced that the "entertainment" was about to start. 
"Stephanie, please go into the bedroom and bring out the tray of
cosmetics," she said.  The TV maid did as requested, returning with a tray
laden with every possible item of the cosmetic arts, from foundation to
false eyelashes.  "Now, Stephanie honey, you will show everyone here the
wonderful training I have given you by making George here into Georgia."
Forced to comply by the submissive personality laid over his own, Stephanie
started to work on the unfortunate judge.  She quickly noted that the man
was NOT entranced...that he was completely aware of what was happening to
him...yet, somehow, still unable to resist.  Angela explained, "Nancy and I
have not yet created darling Geo rgia's new personality.  However, thanks
to a remarkable muscle relaxant, she is totally unable to move.  Hence, she
is completely cognizant of the change being made to her appearance by the
lovely Stephanie.  Once she is completely female in appearance--and the
humiliation of her transformation is complete--then we will create the new
Georgia in mind as well as body!" Following Nancy's instructions, Stephanie
first shaved off the man's eyebrows, then the fringe of hair that circled
his otherwise bald head.  Though still young, George Marshall had never
tried to hide his baldness, thinking it made him look older and more
"judicial." Now, the TV maid applied foundation over his whole face, then
began to make up his eyes with dramatic applications of shadow and
eyeliner, and drew in high arched brows to replace the ones she had shaved
off.  Blusher followed on his cheeks, then deep red lipstick.  The final
cosmetic touch was the false eyelashes--long, thick, dark brown lashes that
gave his eyes an exotic, almost Lat in look. Nancy produced the crowning
glory: a wig of luxurious dark brown human hair, set in a shoulder-length
curly style.  She carefully settled it onto Georgia's bare head, applying a
latex glue to hold it securely in place. A mirror was placed before the now
lovely judge so that he could see the changes wrought.  Now Angela brought
out the clothes Nancy had chosen for her victim, and she, Nancy and
Stephanie dressed Georgia in them: scarlet lingerie (padded bra, panties,
garter belt, floor-length satin slip); sheer black stockings; red
patent-leather pumps with five-inch heels; and a form-fitting red satin
evening gown, its left side slit to the thigh, revealing the black-hosed
leg nearly to the stocking-top. In short, Georgia looked sensational! Now,
Mistress Jennifer stepped forward and, following Nancy's prompting, used
her hypnotic talents to create the new persona of Georgia.  Like so many of
the submissive transvestites in their little circle, she was to think of
herself as a "male lesbian"--but in Ge
orgia there was a difference.  Unlike the others, in all of whom the
feminine guise had been laid over a still inherent male personality,
Jennifer endeavored with Georgia to do the opposite.  "Georgia is the REAL
you," she told the mesmerized jurist.  "Your male identity, when allowed to
exist, is the false one.  So much so that you will feminine lingerie--and
nothing else--under your judicial robes when sitting on the bench.  So be
careful, Georgia dear!" The assembled party-goers roared with laughter at
Jennifer and Nancy's little game. The newly created Georgia was released
from her trance and turned over to her mistress.  Nancy made the man/woman
thank each of the dominants in the room for her part in the transformation,
then the two beautiful figures sashayed out of the apartment. That brought
an end to the party and to Stephanie's role as a French maid.  As Angela
helped her boss strip out of the satin uniform, and Steven's own persona

came to the fore, he began to wonder what her next ploy would be.  What wou
ld she make him become next? The answer camethe next morning, when Steven
found another photo taped to his shaving mirror.  Again, the careful
programming did its job.  The picture protrayed a young woman in a tailored
business suit, the V of the jacket revealing her lacy camisole and the
short skirt revealing her shapely legs, perched on matching kid pumps, to
mid-thigh.  The caption read, "Get dressed and go to work, Stephanie."
Steven moved in a trance to the closet, picking out the outfit that most
closely resembled the photo.  Soon, he was dressed in a red silk business
suit, with short skirt and six-inch pumps, his black camisole showing
beneath the jacket.  The clothing impressed his new identity upon
him--working girl, assistant to the new department head: Angela! Without
regard to whether or not others might see her leaving, Stephanie strode
confidently to the elevator.  A short time later, she was seated, knees
together, legs folded beneath her chair, at what had been Angela's desk
outside Steven's offic e.  The intercom buzzed.  "Stephanie, come in
please." Angela sat on the edge of her desk, dressed in a tight blakc
leather business suit, a creamy white satin blouse beneath the jacket and
black patent pumps setting off her magnificent legs.  She smiled as
Stephanie primly entered. "This is your permanent identity, Stephanie.  You
are now my assistant as I once was Steven's.  Your duties are similar to
what my once were--with several important additions." She stood and crossed
to the door, locking it; then pulled the blinds.  She sat again on the
desk, pulling her skirt up past her crotch, revealing that she wore no
panties.  Her pussy was framed by the black lines of her garter belt. 
"Satisfy me, Stephanie." Her submissive nature now a permanent part of her
psyche, the once-proud executive, now simply Stephanie the administrative
assistant, kneeled before her boss and mistress and buried her face in
Angela's crotch.  Though deep within Steven's voice still cried out in
humiliation, Stephanie could only think, "At last, I'm exactly where I
belong!" THE END