Date: Sat, 20 Nov 1999 19:54:49 -0500 (EST) From: ladyindenim@email.com Subject: Mother Please... Mother Please... by Ilean Anne Jerque Jules Beverly Bavier stood looking at himself in the mirror. He hated this. He knew he should have said something earlier but he never did. It was just that Mother was so strong willed, so insistent at times that he just had to do what she said, even if it meant that he would be standing here, like now, in an attractive dress, with his face and nails femininely painted, his legs clean, smooth, and exposed in nylons, and his hair soft and flowing down to the bosom that was so obvious in the clinging dress. "Julie," Mother called from the other room, "Are you ready yet. The photographer is ready." Jules shrugged at his reflection, smiled his best, female smile, and rounded the corner onto the shoot area. Ever since he was a small child, his mother had dressed him as a girl and had him modeling dresses in some catalogue or another. This was easy since she owned a modeling agency and since Jules was "blessed" with very feminine face, skin, and hair. Most of the people that worked in the agency knew of the deception but, as has been said, Mother was very strong willed and no one dared say anything openly. The shoot took all day and required several changes. Jules cringed to think that at least one or two of these dresses, if not all, would be in his closet tomorrow and that next weekend, shoot or no, he would be in some city, in some restaurant, in one of these dresses. As the shoot ended, Mother was in the dressing room collecting some of the girl's wear, "Julie, quickly get out of that and wear the pretty flowered number with the white lace collar. It really does show off your sweet face. And wear heels also, they make our legs look so shapely." Jules did as instructed and Mother gathered up clothes from all around. As he finished, Mother appeared to inspect him: "Now what is wrong with that dress." She paused to inspect her son, "Julie, you really must wear a bra and forms. Girls you age have breasts and you must, also. Now put your forms in, touch up your lipstick, and wear some nice perfume, we'll be having company this evening." A shiver ran up Jules' spine. It was one thing to have to dress up as a girl, but lately, when Mother entertained, she would have her son sit on a man's lap as "a beautiful, young model should for her employer." The last couple of "employers" had jostled him up and down enough that he knew that they had come. At fifteen, no matter how sheltered and controlled one's life has been, one has some idea of what the basics of sex are. Tonight proved to be a bit different. All through dinner, James van Alt took unusually long glances at the feminine boy. After dinner, James asked if Julie would mind dancing with him. Jules opened his eyes wide at his mother but she accepted for him anyway: "Why, I think that Julie would enjoy that. She has had some instruction in the art." That wasn't a lie, either. For the last two years, every Wednesday evening, Julie had been enrolled in ballroom dance classes. In fact, dancing in heels had become quite second nature to him. James van Alt apparently hadn't had instruction, or didn't use what he had once learned, because instead of holding Julie around the waist and carrying the girl's hand in his, the animal held Julie by both cheeks and openly rubbed his erection into Julie's belly, as he gyrated into orgasm. Jules felt dirtier than he ever had before. After kissing the "gentleman" good-bye lightly on the lips, he rushed upstairs to take a shower. Stripping quickly, he started the water and gathered his shoulder blade length hair up into a shower cap; it was Saturday and Mother was going to take him out for dinner tomorrow and he really didn't want her to set his hair because it was wet. In the warm water, he washed the colors from his face and the flowery scent from his neck and wrists. "Jules," Mother spoke from in the room, "I have a special outfit in mind for you tomorrow so don't take off your nail polish. And don't forget that you have to get your shot tonight." Again a shiver ran up Jules' spine. These shots that Mother had been giving him for the last two months were female hormones, Mother made no effort to lie about that. It seems that Jules was "just getting to be too much a boy" and that he would need to take the hormones for a while to keep him in a girlish figure. But that didn't seem to be all they were doing, he noted that his skin was becoming very soft and white, and that his penis was clearly shrinking even though it had never been big. After drying himself, he slid into his pink satin PJs. Mother chose that moment to come into the room with the shot. She handed the syringe to her son and instructed him to inject himself as he had been shown. Jules wanted to resist but pulled down his pants and wiped a spot of his rear clean as he knew to do. He hesitated, knowing that the shot was forcing femininity upon his body. And then there was the shock, the cattle prod, aimed directly, viciously at his scrotum. It nearl! y knocked him over and the pain brought tears to his eyes. "Jules," Mother said as if she really was tortured herself, "You must take your shot and not dally. Now, inject yourself." Still aching, the boy lined up the needle to his skin and shoved it in. Slowly he pushed down the plunger, sending the chemical instructions of femaleness into his body. After recleaning the site, Mother collected the syringe, and hugged her son, saying, "This will be for the best, Jules. Soon you will have beautiful breasts and then you won't have to wear that bra if you don't want to. Now sleep tight my sweet." Jules crawled into bed. A small tear slipped from his eye as he fell asleep. Mother called from her room, "Jules, are you dressed yet?" Jules stood looking at himself as he had so many times before, "Mother, if I have to wear this, can I at least wear some long pants?" "Why, no," Mother appeared at the door, "You are always complaining because you have to wear dresses and then when I provide a boy's outfit for you, you complain about that." Jules looked at the modified Little Lord Fantelroy outfit. It was baby blue in color, with a heavily ruffled, white blouse with extended ruffle cuffs. The shorts had no belt or zipper, but had to be buttoned up both sides with several large white buttons. The shoes were clearly girls' strap over slippers worn with thin, white cotton socks that stood out well against his smooth legs. Mother entered the room and began to brush his hair. After ten minutes his rich, brown hair glistened in the sunlight. Mother then pulled the hair behind each ear and held it in place with a single hairpin on each side, allowing the length to cascade down his back. She then plucked a few stray hairs from his brows, ensuring that they were thin and clearly feminine, and slid two diamond studs into the peircings of each ear lobe. A very light touch of red tinted lip balm finished the very gay looking boy. "Let me see your nails," Mother demanded. The french manicure from the day before was still perfection on each long nail. "There," Mother said with satisfaction, "we'll be lunching with Mrs. Brighton and her daughter, Sally, today, and I wanted you to wear something special for them." Jules heart sank. Mrs. Brighton was some old lesbian that had a daughter that could only be described as a bully or thug. He had had one incident with her before, the mother and daughter had come to a shoot and Mother had introduced Jules as her son. Mother had asked Jules to show Sally around backstage, and when the opportunity arose, Sally, who had teased Jules unendingly when out of the parent's earshot, pushed the skirted lad against a wall and racked him terribly. Laughing at the boy's pain, she said, "Well, well, I guess there is something male about you." She chuckled all the way back to her mother leaving Jules in pain for hours. "Mother," Jules tried to plead with her, "this looks so silly. Could I wear a dress instead?" She looked at him with a smirk, "You want to wear dresses now after all the times you've asked me to let you wear boy's clothes? I think you are a spoiled brat! You'll wear what you have on and I will hear no more about it. You will have plenty of opportunity to wear dresses later when your breasts come in." The lunch was agonizing. Heads turned and fingers pointed at the faggoty boy, and snickers and muffled laughter could be heard following close behind him. Sally made "nelly" faces and gestures at him whenever the parents were otherwise occupied. Soon the urge of nature enveloped Jules and he had to travel to the restroom. He walked with his head down, barely looking at where he was going, unaware that Sally was hot on his heels. Entering the little hallway that contained the doorways to the restrooms, Jules turned toward the men's room. Suddenly his head was jerked back by a solid grip on his hair. Off balance, he was drug backwards into the women's room by Sally. "In here, girly boy," Sally demanded, "you'll need to do your peeing in this room." She puled him to the stalls and then returned to lock the door. Jules stood in fear as the bully spoke to him again, "Go on and pee, wimp. And when you're through, I have a surprise for you. Something that I borrowed from my mother. I'm sure you'll really enjoy it." There was no denying the urge, so Jules entered the stall and dropped his pants and the silly jockeys that he was forced to wear. He stood and released his bladder, then bent to retrieve the shorts from his ankles. With a painful jerk, Sally again had a hold of his hair. She turned his head back over his shoulder so that he could view her. Having slipped out of her dress, she stood behind him wearing only her bra. From her pussy extended a double sided dildo, the end near Jules' butt glistening with lubricant. "You like?" the bitch giggled. Jules tried to struggle but she grabbed his hair hard and reached between his legs and grabbed his balls. Pain jolted up his spine and reverberated in his head. "This," the bully said as she lined up the dildo with his butt hole, "is what every prissy boy like you needs. I only wish it were real so that I could cum in your ass. Now relax so I don't rip you open." Horrified at what was about to happen to him, Jules didn't even have time to tense up before the dildo slammed into his insides. The bitch was strong. It only took a couple of strokes before the dildo's balls were pressed against his own. Nearly passing out, he went limp and the girl began to pump the plastic phallus in and out of him. "You like it don't you, girly boy?" she demanded. Jules only whimpered. He couldn't believe how she was holding the thing inside herself and able to stroke it inside him. He hurt but fought back the tears, not allowing the bitch the full pleasure of her raping him. The torture went on for several minutes until Sally finally came. When finished, she released the dildo from herself, leaving it planted in Jules' rear. "Turn around," she demanded of him. He couldn't comply immediately, so Sally made her point more clearly with a hard shot into his right kidney, "Now!" Jules had to right himself some to turn in the confines of the stall and the dildo pressed hard against the back of his gut. "Lick me clean," the bully bitch demanded. Jules mustered his strength, "You're not going to get away with this, bitch." Grabbing Jules' ears, Sally kicked him in the balls and pulled his mouth down to her slick pussy, "Lick it clean or I'll kick your balls up to your throat." He knew that she hadn't kicked as hard as she could have and he also knew that she would kick him harder if further provoked. He licked. When he finished, Sally demanded: "Now get that thing out of you and wash it off." He did as instructed, going to the sink and cleansing the plastic with hand soap and water. When he turned around, Sally was again dressed. She took the instrument of rape from him and slid it under the backside of her dress, where it magically disappeared and stayed despite gravity. Patting Jules' head, she said, "Hurry up, pussy. Our parents will be wondering what is taking us so long. I'll tell them that there was a line and if you say anything about what happened here, I'll search you out and cut that tiny prick off you with a butcher knife." Her face was pressed eye to eye with Jules' as she finished speaking. She accentuated her threat with a flick of the tip of Jules' prick. Quickly she turned and left, leaving the boy standing before the sink, his shorts and power blue jockeys around his ankles, and KY slithering down his legs and balls. Though he still hurt inside, Jules quickly cleaned himself, dressed, and returned to the table, each step sending stinging pain from his aching butthole to deep inside his belly. Mother was gone from the table. Mrs. Brighton said as he returned, "Your mother has gone to take care of the check. You both took so long, did you and Sally get to know each other better?" Jules was shocked as he read the knowing smirk on the fat lesbian's face. Mother returned, "Well that's done. Jules, dear, your hair is all mussed. Here," she fished a brush from her purse, "we'll fix your hair when we get outside." They exited and the lesbians got into their car. Mother stood Jules outside their car and brushed his hair in full view of the audience behind the restaurant windows. "You were very long in the restroom. Sally didn't rough you up did she? You are a boy, after all, you shouldn't allow girls to be mean to you. I would be so ashamed of you if that were to happen." Jules' memory of Sally's hot, garlic breath pushing into his nostrils coupled with Mother's declaration brought only submission from the weakened boy, "It was nothing I couldn't handle, Mother." Eighteen months had gone by and the weekly estrogen injections had been supplemented with small dosages of human growth hormone. The resultant effect was to increase his height to five feet six inches, but more, to dramatically pull the seventeen year old boy's body into femininity. His skin had become powdery white and exceedingly silky to the touch. Seeming to thicken more, his deep brown hair glistened brightly around a fair, hairless face who's cheeks and lips were fuller than before, who's nose was daintily chiseled, and who's eyes had become clearly those of a young woman's. Twenty pounds heavier, his waist now measured two whole inches less than before but his hips had gained four. The boy's full thighs and rounded rump flowed long into finely curved legs, graceful knees, perfect calves, delicate ankles, and into feet that hadn't gained a shoe size in over a year. Broad but thin, shallow shoulders sat atop a flat back, and smooth arms extended into small hands wi! th tapered fingers that still sported his "trademark" half inch french manicure. Inside the sheer bra that clung to his ribs, his breasts filled the C cups fully, his deep pink nipples, the areola now wider than half dollars and nearly an inch deep, stuck out in strong definition as the tips extended outward half an inch and half an inch thick. Nightly suction from a device Mother made him use had forced the desired dimensions into existence. The narrowness of his ribs accentuated the flatness of his sternum and the slight roundness of his lower belly as it rested between his fattened, enlarged pelvis. Satiny skin graced this area, and flowed to a barely visible, thin patch of short pubic hair surrounding an almost flat, deep pink, and mid-parted scrotum. Above this, the tiny tip of his penis peeked out of it's uncircumcised sheath, which flowed into the sides of the reduced scrotum, nearly parted beneath to almost join the clearly defined line that threatened to separate! the sack into vagina lips. Mother stood examining her son, "Yes, perhaps the estrogen dose was too strong. I hadn't expected you to loose the use of your penis altogether. After all, I only wanted to ensure your career as a model, not to prevent you from ever fathering a child." Jules slumped into a chair, "Mother, we've been here before. I showed you how small my dick was getting and you said that you would decrease the dosage then! It has been clear that you have wanted me to be a girl from the start." Mother shot back, "That's not true. When have I ever denied that you were a boy?" Jules tried to remember any such incident but couldn't. He could recall some incidents, "There were many times that you failed to tell people that I am a boy." Mother took a deep breath, "It was better for you that they didn't know. You have a career to protect, you know." Flabbergasted, Jules retorted, "Career! Mother I model women's' fashions and lingerie. That isn't a career for a boy much less a man. What were you trying to protect?" Mother tried to answer, "You were just too pretty to not be a model and you looked like a girl. It was what I had to do despite your defiance and unacceptance of your gift." Jules eyes widened, "Mother, you have turned me into a girl!" Lurching up from the chair, he lifted his breasts almost into her face, "These belong to a woman, this skin belongs to a woman, this entire body is a woman's, not a man's." Mother's face shot angry and the cattle prod appeared in her hand like magic. Shoving the electrodes into the boy's stomach, she mashed the button, and curled the boy over in muscle spasms. He fell to the floor, unable to breathe. "You insolent child," she crossed to his dresser, removed a syringe and the bottle of estrogen, and filled the device past the markers. "You think that I want you to be a girl? Well, young man, I'll show you what being a man is all about." Putting her foot on the boy's back, she shoved him to the floor and then sat on him, crushing his full breasts against the carpet. Placing the prod against his temple, she mashed the button again, knocking Jules out. Rolling him over, she felt the boy's scrotum, kneading for a testicle. Finding the tiny gland, she shoved the needle through the sack and forced the comparatively huge amount of fluid into diminutive ball. Swollen to almost normal proportions, she repeated the procedure on the other gland.. Then, pushing the boy's foreskin back to expose as much of his tiny male organ as possible, she began injecting the entire contents of the bottle into the member until his penis was also swollen, though not nearly normal in size, and appeared to be erect, even if a bit puffy. Jules was out for nearly an hour but he never knew. Coming to, his head felt as if it had exploded. Despite his spinning vision, he gradually focused on his mother. Trying to speak, he had trouble with the left side of his face, "What did you do to me?" came forth in barely discernable words. Mother sat on the edge of the bed, "I given you what you want...sort of. Feel your manhood." He hadn't realized it because of the pain in his head but there was also quite a bit of pain in his groin, also. A simple touch of his dick made him aware of it. "Jesus!" he called in pain, "What did you do to me." Mother was cold, "The pain will go away soon. You have a dick. It's even erect, sort of. Feel it. Does it make you happy?" Touching it gently, Jules felt around the shape of his injected organ, "How did you do this." She told him. By the next morning, Jules' head no longer hurt but he had began to bleed from his penis and the pain was unbearable. Mother, reluctantly, took him to the hospital. After the examination, the doctor told Mother his findings, "He told me that he's been injecting himself with female hormones for two years. You obviously know this. And he also told me that he injected himself in the testicles so that he could see what he would look like with a male penis again. I seriously doubt that he could have withstood such pain. I challenged him on this point but he was adamant. I think you did this. If he would collaborate my suspicions, I would have the police in here to haul you away for child cruelty. None the less, I will make a report. I've given him an injection for the pain and a sedative. He'll sleep through the night. The bleeding is from a ruptured testicle. It's stopped now but I think he'll lose that one. I'm not sure he will have function in the other. He is probably sterile." Two years has passed since Jules had moved away from his mother. He is married. Crawling from his bed, he discovered that he had fallen asleep last night without releasing the pressure in his implant. Pressing against an imbedded valve near his pelvis, his six inch erection slowly subsided into a flaccid, two inch penis that rolled around on the flatness of his groin. Fluffing his shoulder length mass of waves, he shot a pump of revitalizing lotion into his palm and then smoothed it onto his flawless female's face. Calling to his wife, "Sweetheart, you need to get up. We have a shoot today." Carol's voice wafted in from the next room, "Yeah, I'm up. What are we shooting today, anyway?" "Wedding gowns," he replied, guiding his breasts into their cups. Carol giggled, "Wedding gowns! I love to see you in wedding gowns. Can we pump you up before we leave there tonight?"